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Chapter Text

There was a sound. A scraping. Something not quite there behind her.

Casey told herself to keep walking, just keep walking. It was only the shadows, the shadows and her own overactive mind. 19 year old Casey Cooke folded her arms over her stomach and listened to the sound of her footsteps on pavement, telling herself not to give in, not to run.

Too many times she had given in to panic, sprinting home in the dark, pursued by nothing but sordid memories and the mocking laughter of the past. There was nothing there.

She wouldn't do it. She would be strong, brave, she would walk home from work like a normal girl who wasn't afraid of the dark.

It came again, a gruffing, scuff of sound, and Casey's feet froze, uncertain now whether it was really just in her mind. There was a whine, as if from a dog, but it ended in a deep grunt and Casey slowly turned.

Light from the streetlamp fell onto cold pavement, caught on the sheen left from the afternoon rain. The street was dark, stretched with shadows, and empty.

Chastising herself for stopping, Casey turned back around.

There was a flash, a figure, a sickly scent, and Casey folded onto the hard pavement below, sinking into darkness.

Her room was damp, dark, and cold. It smelled faintly of mold and wet earth. She had come to alone, her thoughts thick, but her body felt unharmed.

She hadn't panicked. In some ways the darkness stemmed the tide. It was as if she was nothing, floating in an inbetween.

She didn't move, did not know how long she sat, knees curled into her chest, back resting on rough stone.

Her body jolted as a sudden sound came from the dark. A crack of light outlined a doorway, standing just across from her. It lit her surroundings just enough to show the room she was in was completely empty, except for her.

Panic began ebbing into her mind, and she swallowed, hearing the sound of breath, fast and shaky expand out into the room.

There came a voice, muffled, but close.

It was a man moving out past the door, Casey heard him, saw his shadow pass in the crack of light, and terror clutched her throat, thinking whoever had taken her had come back.

"Now why on earth would we have come down here?"

The voice was warm, rose in confusion, and hope choked the terror in her throat.

"Help," it was a thin, pathetic sound, and Casey forced herself up, to stand. "Please, help!"

There was a startled yelp from just outside. The door rattled.

"Is, is there someone in there?" They sounded absolutely incredulous, and Casey felt hot tears form. This wasn't who had taken her. She would get out of here.

"Yes! I- I'm in here. I don't know what happened. Please, let me out!" Her voice sounded strangled, and Casey winced, barely recognizing it.

"O- okay. It's um, it's locked. Just give me a moment,"

More sounds, thuds and clangs, Casey waited trembling. Something cracked loudly against the door and she started backwards, back hitting the wall as the sound came of something dropping to the floor, and the door slowly creaked open.

A triangle of light swept across the floor and up Casey, illuminating her there against the wall. Her rescuer was just a shadow, larger than Casey expected from the voice, and fear gripped her heart as the shadow moved forward.

"Oh, babygirl, what happened." His voice was gentle, tilted in a warm accent, and Casey was gasping as he came in. His hands touched her shoulders, rose to cup her face in a touch that should have felt invasive, overly familiar, but his distraught voice chased all of that away.

"Let's get you out of here. I'm so sorry, are you hurt?"

Mutely, Casey shook her head, letting him lead her out of the small room. She felt cold. She couldn't explain it, like she was removed from who she was, what she should be feeling. Too many times Casey had learned to close it all off, and now in the wake of when overwhelming fear should have been replaced with overwhelming relief, she felt numb.

She blinked as she stepped into the light. It was a bright fluorescent with a harsh tint that illuminated the basement they stood in. The man still had his hands on her shoulders, was speaking, asking what had happened, if she was okay, and Casey took her eyes from the metal shelves that lined the room and forced herself to look at him.

His eyes were a full blue, flashing with worry and concern, his features would be strong if every thought and emotion weren't filling every part. He looked as shocked and horrified as Casey should be feeling.

He looked smaller in the light, his silhouette had been menacing, but now that she could see the man, she was no longer afraid. He was dressed nicely, fashionably even, and that along with the curve of his voice made him almost seem endearing.

 Casey shook herself, disturbed by the odd line of thoughts.

"I'm Barry, honey."

Casey blinked, "C-Casey," she stammered out. Why did none of this seem real?

"Let's get you upstairs and see if we can't get you home."

Casey felt a cold clench hit her at the thought of home, and she took a breath. She did not live there anymore. She would not be going back there. Home was good. 

He settled an arm carefully around her shoulders and led her to the stair. They were concrete, grey and nondescript, and Casey focused on each one, watching her feet step and move, step and move. There was a door at the top, standing partially open, warm light spilling around it, and Casey reached for the handle.

A strangled sound came from the man behind her, and Casey jerked, twisting to face Barry. He was half collapsed, half hunched against the wall, face marked with fear, confusion.

"Wha-what's" he gasped, expression mangling and Casey felt herself moving towards him.

"Are you okay?" her hand shook as it reached for him. He pushed back from the wall abruptly, and Casey's hand fell in shock as the man before began to twist and grow. His body groaned and stretched, his hands tearing his shirt free as if it were nothing, veins pulsing, building, muscles etching themselves against his skin. A snarl came from lips dripping with blood as his teeth sharpened against his gums.

Casey was trapped in panic, in useless disbelief. She hated her body for always freezing, locking so pathetically in place.

"You..." It wasn't a voice. It was a growl, a harsh whine and memories flashed of the sound she had heard on the street, "are... mine... and you." he, it, this thing huffed, arms widening from its side in an intimidating stance, "will. not. leave."

Casey's knees began to shake, her legs wanting to crumble. It came closer, one step, another, now the one just below her, hunched menacingly above her, hot breath pouring into her face. Its eyes were cracked with red veins running into pupils that were too wide, almost obscuring the black. Casey saw her own terrified face in their reflection and she hated it.

Too late she stumbled backwards, too late she tried to run. This beast was already upon her and it closed hands with fingers too long around her and drug her down each step.

She struggled, she tried to, but the strength of its hands bit into her, and it threw her back into the tiny room with a snarl.

She collapsed, palms scraping the rough stone, her hair falling into her face and she blinked through it up at him as he stood above her. She could see its breaths panting in its side, like an animal, like the horses on the farm she visited as a child, could see the veins pushing from the skin as if they would burst.

She didn't understand how he, how this thing could be human. How the man with the kind, frightened eyes could have become this beast.

It did not speak. It stood, staring, huffing, as the door swung close, and darkness rushed in around her.

Casey crumpled, spots of black danced before her eyes, blending with the dark. She heard the sound of her breath, counted each one. She wasn't here. She was curled, under her bed, listening for the sounds of boots on worn hardwood. She counted her breaths. It meant she was alive. She counted her breaths. It meant this wasn't a dream.

She didn't breathe in her dreams.

She counted her breaths until they calmed, and numbness wiped away the terror. Then Casey pushed herself up from the floor, and coolly arranged her thoughts.

It wasn't long until she heard him returning, frantic step on the stair, a harsh scrape against the door, the sound of it creaking open.

"Casey?" The voice was full of dread, and Casey opened her eyes.

He stood there, the man, hunched into himself. She watched as he sank slowly to the floor, just outside the doorway. She could see then that he was trembling, and his arms wrapped around himself.

"Baby girl, I am so sorry. We didn't know, we didn't know he took you."

"What are you?" Her voice was firm, almost, and she watched him wince. Her mind had run through every impossible possibility. That he was crazy seemed obvious, but his body should not have looked like that, changed like that. Was it some sort of drugs, bad experiment, deformation? But the man before her looked perfectly normal now.

"My name," he pressed up onto his knees, reaching her for with one hand before faltering. "Is Barry." His hand shook. "I share this, this body, with other people, other alters."

Casey just blinked at him

"That... what took you, honey, it wasn't me. I didn't know he did that. I would never," the word was a cry, "do that. But he's stronger than me. He's stronger than almost any of us. And he says you have to stay."

Casey swallowed, "What is he?" It was a rough whipser ripped from a dry throat, and it cracked.

Barry's eyes filled with tears, "We call him the Beast. He hasn't, he hasn't always been a part of us. He doesn't usually take the light, be in control. The rest of us, we share it, but he comes out when he wants and we can't stop him."

His head fell into his hands, and Casey's eyes slipped past the man crumpled in the doorway, towards the stairs.

"So if I run?" she whispered, and his head came up, panic written across his face,

"No, no you can't Casey. He'll come back out. He'll stop you. He might hurt you. He, he says that if we make sure you don't escape, that we can keep the light. He'll let us stay with you, take care of you. But if you fight Casey he'll emerge. I would let you go, I swear it, if we could."

"So I let you keep me, or that thing comes back."

He nodded, a tear slipping from his eye, "I'm so sorry, babygirl." Everything in his expression burned with sincerity, and Casey choked on a frazzled laugh. This was insane. Completely insane.

And it was only going to get worse. Before her eyes Barry shifted, and his eyes blinked wide.

"HEyyyy," he swiped at his cheeks, tongue peeking through his teeth as he grimaced. "What, I'm not crying," his voice was suddenly young, and he was looking at her like someone who was totally embarrassed. "I pwomise, I'm not. That's for sissys."

He wiped his hands on his clothes, stopping in an amazed sort of wonder when his fingers encountered the torn shreds of his shirt.

"Woahhh, what did Barry do to his cwothes?" There was the slightest lisp to his voice, and Casey was blinking, trying to keep up.

"Barry didn't do that." she said, for some inexplicable reason, and watched his eyes widen.

"The beast?!" It was a squeak, and he fell over backwards, then scrambled up. "Ohh man. I don't like him, I'm glad I wasn't here when he came, cuz oohh man," he slapped the back of his hand into his palm, reminding Casey of wanna be gangsters she'd seen in youtube videos, and impossibly a smile cracked her lips.

She was losing her mind.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, thinking this must be another of the, what had Barry called them? Alters.

"I'm Hedwig!" he grinned at her, and even though she knew it was Barry's mouth, she almost expected his smile to be missing teeth. "Mr. Barry said your name was Casey. And that I should be extra nice to you," he blushed, ducking his head, "he didn't tell me you were pretty."

He peaked at her, bouncing in place. "Mr. Barry also told me you'll be staying with us, and I thought we could like, have fun, and play games, etc."

He was looking at her so shyly, but so hopefully, that Casey managed a smile that wasn't entirely forced.

"That sounds nice, Hedwig. But do you think maybe there's something to eat? I'm a little hungry."

Hedwig slapped his forehead like he should have thought of it. "I'll go get Miss Patricia."

He bounded away from her, leaving her door wide open, and Casey watched as he hopped up the stairs. He was almost out of sight, pausing on the last steps, when he turned. His eyes changed, tightening, darkening. His body was still prancing in place with the energy of a child, but Casey knew she was looking into the eyes of a beast.

"Don't." was all he said, and all thought of escape that had been paving their way through her mind crumpled up and vanished.

Hedwig blinked, shaking his head, "Woahhh," he giggled a little, as if he had merely spaced out for a moment, then finished darting up the stairs calling, "Miss Patricia! Miss Patricia!"

Casey crawled to her open doorway, and sat huddled in the light, eyes wandering the room just to fix repeatedly on the stair.

She heard the voices first. It sounded like Barry's voice, being passed back and forth with a softer, feminine tone. The basement door opened and the voices stopped, as the man returned, walking carefully down the steps. He passed to where she sat, gracefully, a hand resting just below his throat on his chest.

"Good day. My name is Patricia. You must be Casey," her lips pursed in a cute way as she gave a little shrug. "Why don't you come with me." She extended a hand, then winced as Barry's voice poured out.

"You heard what he said Patricia!"

"Oh hush," Patricia waved a hand like Barry was being over dramatic, "I do not want to have to come all the way down her just to feed her. We can keep her from escaping just as easily upstairs, and we would all be much more comfortable."

"The beast might come back!" Barry argued.

"Or he could understand and allow this," Patricia answered, sounding wise as she reached for Casey again.

Barry drew their hand back. "He might hurt her!"

Patricia hummed in agitation, "well, we will never find out unless we try."

She gripped Casey's arm, it may be a woman's mind but it was in a man's body and Patricia pulled her easily to her feet. Casey stared at the upper door in terror.

"Please, I don't want it to come back. I don't mind staying down here."

"But I mind, dear," Patricia said, turning to give her a pleasant looking smile, "now please, don't fuss and let us go get something to eat."

Casey was drug by the arm as Patricia hummed contentedly up the stairs. They reached the door and Casey was tense, waiting for Patricia to convulse into the beast, but as Patricia reached for the handle, she called out in a sing song tone, "Just heading upstairs," and she swung the door open with no hesitation.

Chapter Text

Casey sat in the small office, watching Barry as he worked. Papers were strewn about the floor around him as he lay, and Casey watched as Barry's scarf fell onto his sketchbook again, getting in the way of his pencil.

"The things I do for fashion," he muttered under his breath, and caught Casey's crooked smile.

He winked at her, flashing a wide grin, before pushing off of the floor onto his knees. He looked around. 

"Have I really made this much of a mess? I swear sometimes I think I miss Den-" He stopped abruptly, coughing into his hand.  

Casey tried not to appear interested.

It had been a week since she had awoken in the tiny room below. One week since Patricia had pulled her up into their home. One week since Casey had fully seen the beast. 

He was there, she knew he was, lurking. He would surface, like he needed to remind her he could emerge at any time. A shadow of a threat, constant and always following her.

It kept her here.  

But if it weren't for those moments, those times when her eyes meet that hungry, aching black, she would almost be content here. It was insane. Part of her was so keenly aware of that she felt like the walls might shatter if she stared at them too long. Normal people wouldn't be okay here. Normal people wouldn't be making friends with them. 

But Casey had always known she wasn't normal. 

She had met several of the alters, and each seemed overly anxious to make her comfortable. Like they could make up for what the beast was doing. Except Patricia, that is. She seemed, if anything, put out by the inconvenience, but was too well mannered to treat Casey badly.

Casey spent most of her time with Hedwig and Barry, when he wasn't at work. Hedwig loved to play even the simplest of games, and Casey's heart had swelled when she realized he likely never got to play with anyone. He was a nine-year-old boy in a man's body; it wasn't like he could head down to the neighborhood playground.

Barry was vivacious and charming, so full of life and happiness. She would catch him looking at her with worried regret, so broken by what the beast had done. She wasn't used to it, seeing genuine remorse. 

He always shook it off with a vigor, determined to amuse her. Still there had been times, with him and the others, when it seemed they almost let something slip. When Patricia's shirt was wrinkled from Barry leaving them in the dryer. Or just now when Barry looked at the mess he had made, as if they were all trying not to mention someone.

It didn't make sense. She knew about the alters, knew about the beast. What else could they possibly have to hide?

What could be more frightening then what she already knew?

Barry stood, stretching, "I promised Hedwig he could have the light in a bit, he wants to watch a movie with you."

Casey looked up at him from her chair, "That sounds fun."

He tweaked her nose as he passed, laughing as it crinkled, and Casey set down the book she hadn't even looked at and moved into the sitting room, waiting for Hedwig. Not five minutes later she heard him barreling down the hall. He vaulted over the back of the couch, and grinned at her happily.

"Hiya Cathey! Did you see me? I went so high!"

Casey laughed, "Yes, Hedwig. You did." Hedwig often ran and leapt on things, showing off in all the ways a nine-year-old thought was cool, and Casey was always a little bit worried he wouldn't know his own strength and end up breaking something. He was, after all, using the very fit body of a full-grown man.

"So, what do you want to watch?"

Hedwig bounced forward, squinting at the stack of DVD's "Well, I started Nightmare Before Cwistmath but I didn't want to finish it witho-wt Mr. Dennis."

Casey's ears perked up. As far as she could figure, she had either met or heard of all of the alters, but this was the first time she had heard that name.

"Does Mr. Dennis like that movie?"

Hedwig only half glanced at her, still intent on choosing a movie, "No, but he takes the light when I get scar-heeey. How did you know about Mr. Dennis? You're not supposed to know."

Casey cocked a brow at him. "You just mentioned him, silly," she said, keeping her tone light.  She had learned young that action wasn't always an option. But listening. Learning. Sometimes it was the only defense she had.

 Hedwig plopped back against the couch, groaning. "Aww, heck. I wasn't supposed to do that. Mr. Barry isn't gonna like this," he looked at her, pleading, "Don't tell him, please Cathey?"

Casey bit her lip. Hedwig looked so earnest, so afraid of disappointing the older alters and a very real part of her wanted to just let him be.

But that wouldn't help her get out of here.

"Tell you what," she said, smiling at the boy, "I promise I won't tell, if you tell me more about him."

Hedwig frowned a bit and shrugged. "well, gee, I dunno. Mr. Dennis, he used to be here. But the others, they didn't want him and they pushed him back."

"Well why would they do that?"

Hedwig shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Said he was mean. Too... Par-tic-u-lar." he sounded out the word, "Miss Patricia said he was dangerous."

A shiver raced across Casey. Is this what they were hiding? Another dark alter besides the beast? "Was he?"

Hedwig sighed dramatically, like he was bored of the questions, "He would yell sometimes, yeah, and like, if we made a mess, or etc..." he trailed off, embarrassed.

"But?" Casey prompted, and Hedwig dropped his hands in his lap. "But sometimes, when there were storms, or if Barry forgot to turn on my nightlight, he'd take the light for me, 'til I fell asleep." He mumbled it, and Casey's heart ached for him. A little boy who didn't have anyone to look after him. 

She leaned forward, snatching up Nightmare Before Christmas. "Tell you what, how about I finish watching this with you?"

Hedwig's grin was huge, and Casey found herself laughing in a way that felt real as he bounded forward to put it in to DVD player.

He crawled back onto the couch, curling up close against her, and Casey let her hand lightly brush against his back. It was surreal, that she could be comfortable with the physical touch of some of these alters. Hedwig was too innocent to shy away from, too desperate for childlike attention she never found herself pulling back.

 Barry was a physically affectionate person, hugging her hello and goodbye, brushing a finger over her cheek, or her arm. It was warm, and friendly, something about him so cheerfully offputing it was like he overloaded her system and she forgot to flinch away. Some of the other alters liked to keep to themselves, and she kept her distance for both of their sakes. Patricia's touches were always awkwardly motherly. She didn't care for those. But they didn't frighten her.

She wondered if this is really what it took, being forced into the company of a man whose body was shared between minds to learn how to okay be with other people touching her.   

Hedwig hummed, "I like you, Miss Cathey. You're nice."

Casey smiled, glad he couldn't see that it was sad, "I like you too, Hedwig."

He had fallen asleep by the time the movie ended, and stirred when she reached for the remote.

"Hmm..." It was Barry's teasing voice as he moved beside her, still tucked against her, "I could get used to this."

Casey shoved him off, but she couldn't ignore his laugh, or the pull of the smile she felt on her own lips. It felt tight in her stomache. But it wasn't fear. She reached for the remote when Barry winced beside her. He was still an unnatural moment, and then he blinked.

"Ugh," he rubbed a hand across his brow. "The beast said to tell you he approves of you and the boy. Hedwig's less irritating when he has a friend."

Casey froze, every pleasant fault draining like melted ice out of her. Her eyes turned slowly to look at Barry. His expression was still screwed up with distaste, and his eyes lit with regret when he saw her obvious fear.

"Is he always listening?" Casey whispered it. She still wasn't used to it. The sudden changes between alters had been jarring but she had adapted, accepted. It was the only was to survive. But this, casual conversation with a monster that could hide behind the face they all shared. She would never be used to that. 

Barry reached for her, settling her back against his side. Ignoring her brittle posture.

"No. He's not constantly listening, but he is always alert. I can feel him at the back," his palm tapped his temple, "Ready to be listening, if that makes sense. He leaves us be unless he has a message, or if he thinks we're trying to let you free." He sighed, letting his head rest against Casey's, "Oh baby girl, I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish you didn't have to be here."

He sent her a sudden smile, curled almost smugly, too bright for how sad he had just been. "We've liked having you here, doll. but we don't want to have to keep you."

Casey shivered, allowing herself to shift closer against him as he tugged, thinking it would make her feel safe. "Is he listening now?" she asked quietly.

 Barry looked like he was thinking, then shook his head, "No, honey, he's pretty far back."

"Where did he come from?" Casey whispered, as if keeping her voice low would keep him away.

Barry's arm was along the back of the couch, and he reached up with his hand to grab the red blanket thrown over the back and tug it over them.

"We weren't all here at once. At the beginning, Kevin, the one who actually owns this body, he was alone. Then," he paused, "then a couple of us arrived. In some ways I'm the youngest, I was almost last to show up, but I showed up older, ya know?"

Casey blinked, trying to pretend she understood, and maybe thinking she did a little.

"We were doing really well for a while, he, we" he corrected himself, "got ourselves a job, found a place to stay," he looked around the small sitting room, "the beast didn't emerge 'til almost a year ago."

"What happened a year ago?" Casey asked, her head resting against his arm, and she turned her face to peer up at his profile. He frowned, a look completely unlike Barry and for a moment she was afraid another alter had stepped in. But then he sighed, slipping down a little more comfortably into the couch, pulling her closer.

"You ask a lot of questions, babygirl." he flashed her a grin, but Casey's expression didn't budge. Barry sighed, letting his head fall back to rest against the couch.

"Would you think I was crazy, sweetgirl, if I just wanted to stay here? Like this, with you? You make it quiet, Casey. You make us almost feel normal."

Casey's smile wobbled, an unexpected tear slipping down over her cheek, soaking into his sleeve. 

"I know what you mean." She whispered, closing her eyes, letting her body rest completely against him. It was a choice. A release of tension. Like she wass trying this out. This feeling of protection between friends. She heard his head move, knew he had turned to look at her in question. But after a few quiet moments he exhaled an even breath and settled back down, neither minding at all when they fell asleep like that, comfortable together.

casey bear... where are you casey bear... it's not nice to hide...

Casey awoke with a start, blinking out of the dream, the movement waking the man beside her. She stretched with a soft groan, looking around. Faint light peaked in behind the current. It was just past dawn.

"Well this is unexpected."

Casey jolted and turned to stare at Patricia. The woman rose primly and neatly folded the blanket.

"I'll make us some breakfast, little dove.' she lifted her shoulders pleasantly, and Casey waited until she had walked into the kitchen before grabbing the blanket back with a groan. Pulling it over herself she turned her face into the couch and went back to sleep.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Hedwig bounced onto the couch by her feet, rolling her awake, "Patricia made us breakfast, but yours got cold."

Casey groaned as she sat up. Hedwig looked at her and snickered, "Your hair looks funny."

Casey's eyes flashed to his bald head, "So does yours," she muttered, but Hedwig had skipped away before he heard her. She heard him in the kitchen, before he reappeared a few minutes later, walking with abnormal slowness as he stared at the plate and glass he held in his hand, trying to carry them to her without spilling.

"Oh, thank you Hedwig," Casey smiled at the sweet boy, standing to take them, when Hedwig froze, his eyes going wide.

He convulsed, the plate and glass slipping, landing with a horrible crash as the man's body grunted and cracked into a tall, terrifying figure.

The beast stared down Casey, completely frozen on the spot.

"I, wasn't" she stammered, not understanding why he had come. She wasn't trying to escape. 

It stalked forward, and Casey's heart burned as it beat frantically. It stood over her, eyes rimmed red, black with something darker than anger.

"The day is coming."

His voice rumbled out, shaking into Casey and she trembled back from him.

Hands caught at her, clutched her, tightened until needles of pain shot through her arms and he lifted, squeezing, until her feet barely touched the floor.

"The day will dawn glorious, and I... will make you mineee." It was a snarl, a hiss, and Casey was suddenly pressed against him, teeth scraping her mouth. Casey screamed as his blood dripped onto her lips.

He released her, crumpling backwards as Casey collapsed, gagging and shuddering, desperate to wipe him away from her, hands too afraid to touch her lips.

Barry unfolded from the floor, eyes landing on the food mixed with broken glass, eyes flashing to Casey in alarm.

"Oh, he was here wasn't he," his voice wavered as he came forward, reaching for her. Casey scrambled back.

"Don't touch me!" It was a screech, and hurt flashed across his face before he tried to push it away.

"Oh baby girl, did he hurt you?" His eyes were afraid of the question, and Casey felt sick anger rise. Anger that once again she had been gripped powerless, pressed against, lips polluted with something too sick to call a kiss.

"What did he do, Casey, please, how can I help?" Barry was kneeling just beside, and she knew how hard it probably was for him not to reach for her, he was so physically expressive it was second nature but he held his hands back carefully.

"He's going to take me." words laced with tremulous anger and Barry blinked, not understanding. "My body!"

She screamed the words in his face and watched him crumple, watched him fall into that broken, horrified man who had cried for her after she had first faced the beast.

"No," he was shaking his head, tears falling, hands reaching like he couldn't stop them, "no, babygirl, no."

Casey let him touch her, hold her, pull her so tight against him it almost hurt and she cried at his tears, at his horror as it mocked her. She wanted to tell him it didn't matter. That she would survive. That you could go numb to anything. You could replace pain with thin red lines that meant that you were alive.

She wanted to tell him that nothing could hurt her anymore. That nothing could be done to her that hadn't already done. She had faced monsters.

But this was a beast.

And she was terrified.

She shuddered into him, tears threatening to build, to break into sobs, and she clung to him, wishing it would work, that his arms would bring comfort and her tears would wash her free but they wouldn't come. They fell but wouldn't break free. His arms held but could not protect.

She pushed against him, just barely, but he moved back instantly, carefully, staring at her face.

She sniffled, wiping at her flushed cheeks and red eyes. "Can you stop him?"

Casey knew the answer before she even asked, but she watched him anyway, watched his gaze fill with shame and his head shake.

"Sweetie, I wish with everything that I could. but I'm not strong enough. Most none of us are, he could break through us if we tried, and hurt you worse because of it."

"Barry." Casey spoke slowly, and he looked at her, confused by her simply even tone. "You said 'most'"

Barry blinked, and gave a subconscious shake of his head. "No, I meant none. There's none of us left who could fight him."

"But there was someone." Casey whispered, but it was laced with a desperate edge, and she rose to her knees, clutching his shirt. "Barry, is there anything inside of you that could be strong enough?"

Barry's hands covered her fists in his shirt, not to pull her hands away, but to squeeze them gently. "Casey, I, we don't know, there was-" his brown pinched and he sighed, coming to sit beside her.

"There was an alter, Dennis. He was the first. He came when Kevin was very young. Kevin's mother was not kind," he scoffed suddenly, "I can't lie to you sweetheart, she was cruel to Kevin, hurt him. Destroyed him piece by piece, and he was so young. When Dennis arrived, he stood over Kevin, protecting him. Taking his pain. He protected all of us for a long time. Was by far the strongest of all of us."

"What happened to him?" Casey asked when he paused, afraid he might stop, but he just took a breath.

"Dennis was strong, Casey, but he took so much hurt, it broke him. He was dark. Unstable, the rest of us moved on, learned to live what lives we could in the light, but Dennis always had a streak through him, of anger, of need. He frightened some of the others, the ones who weren't there towards the beginning, who didn't see everything Dennis did to make sure they weren't harmed. He stood in the way of so much pain," Barry whispered it like a mournful prayer.

"When we found work, found a home, we thought it was a new chapter for all of us. We could live. Breathe. Be free. But one day at work some teens got into trouble with Dennis, and it spiraled. We were afraid, worried that he would break and do something dangerous. He had a temper. Had poor control. We couldn't trust him with the light, like we can't trust Kevin. It took all of us, but we pulled him back, we shut him out. We thought we didn't need him anymore. that we could protect ourselves, even from him."

Casey didn't know tears were falling until Barry lightly brushed them away, giving her a sad smile.

"It wasn't long after we did that that the beast emerged. We had a few short months of warmth, then he just came. We don't know what he wants or why he's here. He would take the light but we could never see through. Waking up and finding you here was terrifying." he whispered.

Casey shifted, laying a hand on his arm.

"Barry," her whisper caught in her throat, "you need to bring Dennis back."

Barry looked at her, alarmed. "He's, he's gone, Casey, and even if he isn't, he could hurt you, like the beast, or worse, I, we can't do that."

Casey's fingers tightened in desperation, "Barry please, you said it yourself he was the only one strong enough. He might still be. He's my only chance. Barry, please."

Barry's hands cupped her cheeks, and he brought his forehead to rest against hers.

"I'll try, baby girl, I promise I'll try."

His lips pressed against her forehead softly, before he stood. Casey watched him leave the dimly lit room, before giving into the sheer exhaustion within her and she slumped against the floor.

Chapter Text

Casey awoke some time later to the sound of scraping. Turning her head, she watched as a broom passed over the broken glass and pieces of egg. She followed the long black handle to peer at the man who held it. It was Patricia, judging by the serene disapproval on her face, and Casey pushed herself up.

Patricia glanced at her, "Finally awake. I see you didn't eat, little dove." Her tone was chiding, and Casey swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. It was oddly reassuring, her calm disapproval. But when Patricia looked back at her, Casey's heart stuttered. Her expression had hardened, jaw tightened and his brow furrowed in intense anger. For one terrifying moment she thought the beast was reemerging.

"Who are you," It was a gruff demand, a thick accent deepening the middle of every word and Casey felt the bottom of her stomach drop out.

"Dennis?" The barest of whisper and she watched him blink, stern expression unyielding. He glanced down at his hands, at the mess by his feet and Casey watched him flinch away. His breathing became erratic, his hands shook. Casey went to move, and his gaze popped back up, widening.

 Hedwig's lisp came pouring out. "Heyyy, Cathey, you still haven't cleaned this up?"

Casey's breath left her in a cry, the change coming too abruptly, her brain not awake enough yet. Hedwig winced at her expression.

"Don't worry, I, uh, I can do it." She watched him bite his lip in concentration as he awkwardly gripped the broom.

"No, Hedwig, it's alright. You'll cut yourself." She went forward, forcing herself to be calm. To be sensible. But then he turned, hand going to a suddenly more prominent hip.

"You just had a say something, girl..."

Casey blinked, recognizing Jade, but the two had rarely spoken and Casey had nothing to say now.

"You had to try and dig up that useless hunk."

Jade's brow was cocked almost as aggressively as her hip. In some ways that Casey would never admit out loud, Barry reminded her of Jade sometimes.

"He-y, Jade." Casey stammered, trying to keep cool. Jade always showed up talking, running on about this or that, usually cursing and slamming things around when she couldn't find her diabetes medication.

Jade looked down at her self and scoffed, "Really letting this place go, aren't ya, Case," she gestured towards the mess on the floor before stepping back, letting the broom handle just fall across it. "He's not gonna like coming back to this." She bent over the book shelf by the wall, searching the shelves for her little box. Casey couldn't remember where she had seen it last.

"Shoulda warned you, that freak likes it clean." 

Jade straightened, smoothing her hand down her shirt.

"I don't know why she uses such language. It's really unnecessary," Patrica sniffed, stepping away from the shelves to retrieve the broom, but before she even got there she shifted again and Orwell was speaking.

Casey stumbled back, she needed a break from the constant shifts. She ducked into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her, and let herself sink to the floor. There was so many of them. Alters she barely knew, crammed together with others she had gotten used to. All with that creature lurking underneath and she couldn't keep up. Orwell hadn't deserved her running out on him, had never done anything to earn it and guilt nibbled.  

It wasn't long before she heard a knock.

"Casey..." Barry's voice floated through the door, and Casey choked on her relief. That familiar voice, knowing that he would understand. She scrambled up, pulling the door open, all but launching herself at him.

He caught her with half chuckle, and hugged her close.

"How you doin, babygirl? I know it's been a rough morning."

His hand smoothed her hair, and Casey squeezed her eyes closed against him, hoping he would stay. That she could keep him here. The others were kind to her, interesting and nice and she was getting to know them but Barry was different. Insane as it was, this man, trapped in the shared space of a complicated mind, was her friend.

He pushed back a little to cup her face, "It's been a bit hectic up here, sweetie. We're trying, like I said we would, but it's thrown us into a bit of a tangle. Some of the others are afraid, and started fighting for the light. They don't want him to come back. But I'm looking, Casey, I swear I am."

Casey grounded herself in the deep sincerity of his gaze. "He was here," Casey whispered, and Barry flinched.

"The beas-"

"No," Casey shook her head against his hands, "I thought it was him at first, but he didn't know who I was. He sounded...rough." It was only word she could think to describe the tone, the expression, the stance of him there, before his breathing had panicked and his hands had begun to tremble.

Barry nodded but she watched his mind race behind his eye, "That means it's working, babygirl, we'll keep trying." He winced, then pulled his hands back, shaking them.

"Whew, getting pretty close with Barry, arentya girl," Jade raised a brow at her suggestively, laughing as Casey's cheeks heated before she sashayed away. 

Casey's thoughts spun. She tried to piece together every half comment she had heard about Dennis. He was mean, dangerous, unstable, and for a moment she wanted to laugh that she was desperately searching for something like that just to get away from something worse. But there wasn't time. She tried to focus on the other details. He was strong, wouldn't let movies scare Hedwig, didn't like messes. She remembered Barry's and Jade's comments. The way Dennis's hands had begun to shake. More than didn't like messes. They made him unstable.

Casey took a moment to look at the apartment. It wasn't dirty, but it was disorganized. Hedwig's toys were stuck haphazardly in the corner, Barry's sweater was still draped over the end of the couch. There were papers on the coffee table, dust on the tv. Casey sighed, and found her fingers tugging up her sleeves. It seemed ludicrous to think cleaning would help, but Casey went to work. She had to do something.

She spent two days cleaning the apartment. It must have been the weekend, because the others didn't go to work, they just moved around her, letting her do her thing. Their changes were still hectic, breaking off mid-sentence for another alter to hold the light. There was chaos as Casey did her best to make everything in this place as neat and orderly as possible.

She fell asleep exhausted, hoping she would be too tired for the dreams to come.
                                                                                       

Dennis awoke on the couch, sitting up stiffly, a soft groan falling from him as his body left the uncomfortable surface. Why was he here? Had the boy fallen asleep watching movies again? He squinted at the television, but even without his glasses he could tell it was off. He stood rigidly, reaching for the blanket that he folded with quick, sure movements before setting it carefully on the cushions. He frowned when he saw the pillow. Whoever had the light before him had intended to sleep out here.

Reaching down he collected the pillow, moving through the darkened room. He stopped a half moment before walking into the coffee table, and blinked at it evenly. When had that gotten there? He would have to speak to Barry about moving the furniture around again. He reached to move it, but was struck with how tired his body felt. The others must not be getting it proper rest. He straightened stiffly, and turned towards the room at the end of the hall.

He tried to recall the day, if there was work in the morning. His watch wasn't on his wrist, but he knew a clock and a calendar were just inside the bedroom he shared with the other alters.

He pushed open the white door and clicked on the light, his eyes focusing on the calendar before him.

He blinked. This didn't make sense. March 1st was the last date crossed out, in an ugly line and Dennis knew the boy had done it. He resisted a sigh, and focused. March second wasn't crossed out yet. But he was certain March 2nd had already happened. There had been a meeting at work that day. Dennis reached for the marker clipped by the calendar. With two quick strokes he had drawn an exact 'x' through the center of the calendar block, when he noticed the placement of March 2nd was incorrect. It had not been a Monday, like this calendar said.

Dennis squinted, no, none of this was right. Had Barry hung the old calendar again? With a frustrated groan, Dennis reached to tear this calendar down, when a rustling came from behind him in the room.

caseybeeaarr. Ill tell your Daddy you're being mean Caseybear...

She jolted awake, kicking the blankets off of her, desperate to get their weight away from her skin. She blinked at the light, had she forgot to turn it off? She stumbled toward the light switch when her eyes caught sight of him in the doorway.

He was staring at her with dark, bewildered eyes, jaw tightening as he tried to process.

"Dennis?" It was a squeak and she watched him blink at her. "Is, is that you?"

Dennis was frozen as the girl moved. Her dark hair was a tangle about her, her face pale. She knew his name. A moment flashed through his mind, a memory of her face, her fear, the broken dish at his feet. She was staring at him, uncertainty, no, fear in her eyes and Dennis shook his head, taking a half step back, his shoulder hitting the calendar. He turned to look at it, his eyes finding the year, printed in the top right corner.

2018

No.

That wasn't right.

It couldn't be.

Flashes filled his mind. The others, shouting, shoving. Then there was the darkness, trying to stay awake, to keep holding on in the long, silent black. Broken snatches of their accusations rang in his mind. He was dirty, unstable, couldn't be trusted. Dangerous.

Dennis stared at the girl. The girl in his bed. The girl who knew his name.

How had she gotten here?

Had he... had he?

He felt his hands begin to shake.

How long had he been gone? What had he done while he was in the black?

How had this girl gotten here?

Casey watched the man's fists press into his head, biting into the flesh. His chest was beginning to pulse with panicked breaths. He fell to his knees, folding towards the floor as Dennis screamed.

It was a terrifying, harsh sound, and Casey resisted the urge to cover her ears.

He lay in a ball, knuckles scraping across his face. Every instinct told Casey to run, that what she was seeing wasn't stable, wasn't safe, but she knew this man, this alter, might be her only hope against the beast.

She crept off of the bed, slowly towards him.

"Dennis?" she whispered, unheard over the sounds he was making, low, guttural, almost sobs. Her hand shook as she gently touched his sleeve.

His head came up, gaze fixing on her. His expression was hard as flint, the panic in his eye falling into an even, cold pit of something barely contained.

"Take it off."

Casey blinked at him, breath wavering, surprised by his voice. Barry's voice was warm, almost cultured, not as refined as Patricia's. There was nothing refined about Dennis's voice. "What?" she gasped.

"Your shirt is stained. Remove it." Every word was an even line, and Casey trembled, not understanding. She looked down at her shirt. It was one of Barry's, a long sleeved tshirt he used when he painted, splattered here and there with color. Casey shook her head, trying to ease away from Dennis, when he launched himself at her.

"Take it off!" The demand seemed ripped out of him as his hands closed on the material. Casey tripped backwards, crashing against the bed, trying to force his hands away.

"No, stop!" she cried, his hands still tearing at the shirt. He pinned her roughly against the side of the bed, his body trembling with anger, his eyes fixing on hers.

They were gleaming in the light, filled with something more terrifying than Casey had ever seen in the beast's gaze. The beast at least was in control.

"Take. It. Off." The words were shoved against her, and Casey's head was nodding before her words could catch up.

"Okay. okay. I will. I'm sorry. I will."

He released her, straightening up, containing the tremors in a rigid posture as he watched her.

Casey felt sick as her fingers trembled at the hem of her shirt. She had her own shirt on beneath it, unable to sleep without her layers, despite the heat. She knew it was foolish, but the action itself was so degrading, undressing in front of his cold stare, that Casey began to cry.

Her uncle had never made her do this. He pushed and pulled, hurting and taking as fast as he could. He didn't want to see her, said she had destroyed her body with her ugly raised lines.

Hands covered hers, and she started violently as Barry knelt in front of her. The eyes that had watched her with that cold, predatory edge were now shining up at her through tears.

"Oh, babygirl, he gave me the light. We weren't going to hurt you."

It didn't make sense, the hands that reached for her belonged to the same body that had clawed against her in a fit of rage, but Casey found herself falling against him, desperate for his touch, for his arms to wrap around her, desperate for them to be enough.

He pulled her tight against him, as he settled onto the bed, holding her like she was a child. He shushed her and brushed his fingers gently against her, and whispered again and again how sorry he was. She fell back asleep against him, light still blazing, blankets still kicked to the foot of the bed. She didn't care. And neither did he. She fell asleep in his arms, both wondering if they had unleashed a monster somehow worse than the beast.

Chapter Text

Dennis didn't used to be able to dream. Before they had forced him into the black. Whenever he drifted to sleep, it was one of the other alters that got to dream. Usually the boy, and he'd tell them all about it with irritating excitement. Now images poured through his mind. The fear, the disgust, the hands that shoved him back. The memories of marks across his body. Some of them had healed on the body they all shared, were now faded and gone. Others were etched in slight patches of rough skin. But every mark still lay open on Dennis, every scar still burned in the light and he knew the others saw them, as they each waited in their chairs, he knew they hated them. Jade complained she couldn't wear what she wanted because then people would see their scars. But he knew what she meant when she said it, what she really wanted to say. People would see his scars.

Most of the others weren't there when they were formed, and they didn't like looking at Dennis, didn't like the reminder. Didn't like that the smallest thing being out of place could set him off. Didn't like that they couldn't trust him around their friends because he frightened them. Every single time they met someone, he was always the one to ruin it for everyone.

They didn't trust the thing that lay dark behind him. Hated the strict hold he kept, wanting him to just let loose and let them have some fun. They didn't understand what they were asking. They pushed him into the black and they didn't know, didn't know how long he held on. How hard he fought until his fingers had deadened and his grip had finally fallen.

It was that moment, that feeling of utter failure that haunted Dennis's first dream.

He moved, coming awake slowly. He recognized the feel of the bed beneath him, acknowledged it was familiar before taking in more. He did not recognize the soft scent in the room. More concerning, he did not recognize the warmth that lay tight against him.

He did not panic. Dennis simply opened his eyes to asses what was happening.

She lay there, the frightened girl, pressed against him in sleep. Hair was curled under his chin, head resting on his chest.

Dennis felt his chest constrict, the panic ebbing in as he stiffened. Why was she touching him?

She must have fallen asleep this way with one of the others. It wasn't him that she was touching. Dennis closed his eyes slowly, trying to remember, to shut out the feel of her against him as it pulled at the hungry dark in the back of his mind.

Focus.

Last night. The calendar. The girl. The echoes of voices, the fear. His hands twitched against her now, remembering the way they had clawed at her, his entire mind spiraling back into the darkness. He remembered her fear, tripping over backwards, desperate for someone else to take the light.

Barry, Barry had stepped in, ended up here, like this, with her.

Was she, was she and Barry...?

He felt her move, and choked back a grunt as her hand on his chest fisted slightly in his shirt. Familar. Clinging. She seemed to sense his tremors in her sleep, the hard way his body held. Her head turned slowly, cheek brushing across his chest, and she sighed, as if trying to get closer.

Dennis forced himself to stay still, to let her remain pressed too close, too comfortable against him. He didn't want to disturb the sleeping girl. He could keep control. But all he could see was the panic in her eyes and a flinch jolted through his entire body.

She murmured in her sleep, just a sound, the hand in his shirt gripping tighter, and he tried not to focus on the wrinkles her tiny fingers were putting there.

Distraction. He needed distraction.

It had been almost a year, he reasoned, since he had been in the light. A year in the black.

He moved past the thought. 

Dennis looked carefully around the room, trying not to turn his head too quickly and wake the girl. It appeared neat, tidy in the light still shining and he grunted in relief. They still had a home. It was well kept. Barry had even managed to find someone.

A thought filled him and Dennis felt the closest thing he had ever felt to fear. Maybe they had been right. Maybe they really were better off without him.

He had tried to fight it, the day they all faced him, tried to stay in the light. Individually he could easily overpower one, maybe even several of them. But they all had enclosed on him, and the darkness had wanted him, pulling him from behind as their words crashed against his mind. They had locked him away and dusted their hands free of him, like a dirty, unwanted stain. 

A stain they were contendedly living their lives without.

But then why had they brought him back?

Dennis felt the boy stir at the back of his mind, but ignored him. He wasn't sure what their work schedule was, and if he gave the boy the light now, Hedwig wouldn't bother getting ready. Dennis didn't want to make them late.

The girl pitched rather suddenly, a murmur rising, brow furrowing.

"No, no no!" Her hands shoved against him, trying to get away. She must have awakened, somehow realized it was him. But as he tried to pull away she pitched back against him, hands grasping at him.

"Barry." It was a strained whisper as she came half awake, burying her head in his chest. Dennis searched his mind frantically but the others weren't awake yet. She whimpered, a tiny sound. "Make him stop."

Dennis felt his heart go cold, even as tendrils of heat began to fill him in a way he had to ignore. He didn't know what she saw in her dreams, wondered if it was him who had frightened her, the monstrous way he had attacked her the night before. If she was reliving it now.

Sometimes he watched his hands do things.

They didn't understand, none of them understood how hard he tried, how hard he fought to be normal.

"Barry," another whimper, melding into a sigh, "please."

Dennis focused on what to do. He must focus. He could hear Hedwig whining in the back, he wanted the light to watch cartoons. Barry was no where to be found. Dennis moved, trying to pull himself not too harshly from the girl, every movement slow and exact.

She felt his presence leaving and her hands gripped at him, "No, don't leave."

Dennis froze, muttering a silent curse. He settled stiffly back down, letting her curl practically on top of him, feeling his body begin to panic at the touch, to come alive and want to run all at once. Resolutely he lifted his arms, settling them rigidly around her. It was a stiff, awkward hold, too careful, too cold, but he reasoned it was what Barry would do if he had showed up. 

Dennis watched her sigh, melting against his arms. He witnessed it but couldn't comprehend. Her brow unfurrowed and her hands smoothed against his chest. Her breath evened out, the rise and fall of sound pulling at Dennis like a hypnotising sway until sleep began to crowd in. It wasn't until his own breath fell even that his arms relaxed their hold.

_______________

Casey awoke as the man stirred beside her.

"Good morning, babygirl." Barry's voice was warm, roughened with sleep, and Casey flushed, embarrassed as he dropped a quick kiss on her hair.

She had spent the whole night with him.

It was not the first time she had fallen asleep beside Barry, usually on the couch, or that Hedwig had crept into the room at night if he was afraid. But it was the first time she had fallen asleep next to Barry and woken beside him. She half remembered waking, the feeling of him leaving, her shamelessly asking him to stay. The dreams had been worse, and she hadn't wanted to be alone. But now her blush deepened.

She watched his head turn to glance at the clock and he groaned, "I'm gonna be late."

Casey moved quickly as he sat up, visibly shy, and he tapped a finger to her chin, getting her to meet his gaze.

"You okay, hun?"

She shrugged. "I just, I didn't mean to keep you here all night."

He tapped her nose now, laughing at her heated cheeks, before standing and crossing to his dresser.

"Don't worry about it, doll. Besides, I wasn't here all night."

Casey's head turned sharply to look at Barry as he pulled clothes from his drawers, holding up pieces against eachother before shaking his head, and pulling out something else to try.

"Hedwig was awake before me, I think he took the light for a bit."

"Oh," Casey relaxed. That made it different, somehow. Less intimate. "I'm surprised he didn't wake me."

Barry shrugged, tossing his clothes over his shoulder, heading into the shower off of the bedroom without much comment.

Casey heard the water turn on, him talking to himself as he brushed his teeth. She rolled her eyes as she pulled herself out of bed, crossing to the same dresser. There were mulitple dressers spaced around the room, each alter with their own drawers. Several had told her to borrow whatever she wanted, and she had learned which drawers were theirs. Usually she stayed in her own layers, only borrowing some of Barry's between washes. She had looked through Jade's, but even though they were in a man's size, the thought of wearing that little had her almost shaking with discomfort.

She slipped out of her clothes, they needed a wash, settled for a pair of long grey sweats and a grey button up. They were calmer colors then she usually found in Barry's things, and she pulled them on quickly. It felt strange, being almost completely bare beneath the clothes, but they were large and shapeless, and her clothes would be clean again in a couple of hours.

Barry came out of the shower, in a pair of trim tan pants. His chest was bare and Casey blinked at it in surprise, before catching his gaze. He gave her an exaggerated wink and Casey turned away with a groan.

He eyed her as he pulled on his form fitting undershirt and navy sweater over top.

"How'd that get mixed in here," he muttered at her shirt, but Casey didn't really notice. She had picked up Barry's phone and was flipping through news stories.

"Hey," Barry took the small black device from her, frowning at it, "good thing you reminded me. This would have been so embarrassing."

He unclipped Hedwig's transformer phone case off of the back and tossed into the drawer of the night stand, pulling out a sleek silver one. He slung his scarf on, giving Casey a wide grin.

"How do I look?" Barry struck a pose and Casey rolled her eyes.

"You're going to be late."

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ducked out the door, calling his goodbye.

Casey looked about the room after he left. His towel had been left crumpled on the floor, a few shirts half pulled out of the dresser. She could see inside the bathroom his clothes he had slept in were strewn across the floor.

It made her smile, somedays, the boyish way he got ready despite the sophisticated look he always went for. But her smile froze.

The angry blue eyes. The way Dennis's body had shook at the mess. The hands, so angry, at her soilded shirt. It all came rushing back like a sickened tide.

Casey was moving. She cleaned the room and the bathroom, starting a load of wash, before she moved through the apartment, following the path Barry had made out the door. Straightening up behind him. Setting his mug in the sink. 

Everything had to be perfect.

She didn't want to face what would happen if it wasn't. And in that second her eyes turned to the front door.

Casey almost stepped forward.

Barry was gone, the beast with him.

One step to the door, two. It would be locked. The alters knew the only way to keep the beast at bay was to keep her here. Barry only ever left her alone to go to work, and that wasn't often.

He had made her promise, with enough fear in his eyes to crumble Casey's core, that she would stay. Them having to keep her here was a small price to pay for what the beast would do to her if she tried to leave. What it would do to them. None of them doubted it. 

One day she had tried it, made it this far. Ignored Barry's warning and went for the door. Discovered the message, scratched in the wood in an ugly, uneven scrawl.

I WOULD FIND YOU

Her hand had fallen from the handle and she had stumbled back, tears blurring the words as she struggled to breath. He would. She knew he would.

They hadn't left her alone since then. She hadn't had the chance to see if she was brave enough to run away. To risk that thing coming after her, angry, no longer held at bay.

And part of her was still used to it, living her life in a cage.

But last night she had faced the crazed fury of the alter who was meant to save her. Now the beast's threat hung in her mind, that he would soon come and make her his. Sickness rolled in her stomach.  She had to get out.

There was no hope staying here. 

Her hand met the cold steel of the knob. Twisted. Barry hadn't even locked it.

How. How did the beast not know? If it had felt for a second Barry's intentions it would have... unless Barry had never intended it at all.

Unless sweet, absentminded Barry had been so focused on his day the beast hadn't noticed a simple mistake.

She could run where the beast could never find her. Ignore what might happen to others because of it. She could do it.

But the truth, oh the truth like a thick whisper in the back of her mind. they will always find you.

The door swung and Casey screamed, every ounce of bottled up terror broke from her and she fell backwards into a terrified ball, her screeching hurting her own ears.

Barry came forward, hands on her, but not to console, they shoved her roughly down. A hand covering her mouth, pressing her into the floor and she met the hard, furious gaze and choked on a sob.

Not Barry. Not the beast.

The relief felt sick.

"Stop screaming," his rough Boston accent was clipped with frustration, and Casey tried to push his hands away.

"Stop. Screamin." He shook her roughly with each word, and Casey focused desperately on swallowing her sobs.

Dennis felt her quaking beneath his hands, his control brittle as his hold tightened, fighting back the memories her screams were pulling from him. The cries Kevin would make before Dennis could stop him, the horrible yells of his mother. He had locked those memories down, but his time in the black had weakened his hold and they were crashing back, paralyzing his control.

She choked into a muffled silence, and Dennis stood, reaching into his pocket he pulled out his kerchief, wiping her tears and saliva from his hand with a hard frown.

"You will not scream again." He stated evenly, and watched her eyes flash with something dark and angry.

He had met the light just to find himself on the street, with no knowledge of where Barry had been going. Barry had just winked out. The stress of Dennis's return still had them all in a chaotic scramble, and Dennis was the only one who couldn't have the light pulled from him in a heartbeat. He wasn't as strong as he used to be but he still had that atleast.

One of the others had gone for the light, managed to gain it from Barry, but was unable to keep it, and Dennis had been shoved to the front to fill the void. He had returned home in hopes of finding out where Barry had been headed, and had walked into this.

His eyes traveled over the girl, his brow furrowing as he realized he recognized the clothing she wore. How had she gotten them?

Casey watched his gaze roam over every inch of her, his cold blue eyes settled into a look of steel, and when he took a step forward, she cringed back into the floor.

"I'm not goin to touch you," he gruffed.

Dennis straightened, trying to think of something else to say. "You're Barry's," he finally stated.

Casey felt her stomach turn. He said he wasn't going to touch her, after wrestling her to the ground, because he thought she belonged to Barry? The disgusting nerve of this man.

She glared at him, "I'm not." she hissed, and watched his expression turn calculating, condescending.

"You slept together," Dennis stated in pure confusion.

Casey choked on a horrified gag, "No. We did not."

Dennis merely looked at her, those eyes drilling into her and she felt them reaching her core, leaving behind a shaft of ice. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then grimaced and turned away. He paused, his hand passing over his scalp in a rough, agitated motion, before he glanced at the place next to her on the floor, not quite looking at her.

"Get up," he ordered curtly, then he walked away.

Casey rose shakily. She could hear him as he passed into the office and the door swung closed.

_____________

Casey tried to go about her normal morning, making breakfast, cleaning up afterwards, but she heard him pacing, muttering inside. A constant reminder that nothing about this place was okay. 

The others, Barry, Hedwig, they turned this place into something other than a prison, made being here not feel so terribly wrong.

Abruptly the door opened and Dennis strolled out. He wore glasses, a surprising addition, and the steel frames were set against the deep frown of his brow.

He crossed to her, stood a moment, his gaze slowly moving over the kitchen. It stopped on a place behind Casey, and she turned, following his look. It took her a second to find the small crumb from her toast she had missed cleaning up and she brushed it into her palm quickly and threw it away. She did not want to set him off again.

Dennis cleared his throat, holding up a clean blue folder.

"I need to ask you some questions. The others aren't being very forthcoming right now."

Casey swallowed as he set the folder on the counter and flipped it open. There were neat stacks of bills and a few receipts, and Casey spotted more than a few past due notices.

"Do you know who is in charge of the budget?" he was staring at the papers as he said it, and Casey frowned. That's what he wanted to ask about right now?

"Um, Barry?" she guessed.

His gaze came up, fixing her with a stern look. "Don't joke."

Casey drew back, "uh, I wasn't."

He regarded her a few moments, blinking, before groaning, his forearms meeting the counter and he dropped his head in his hands. He seemed to be locked in an internal struggle, maybe an argument with some of the others, but when he looked up a minute later, his expression was even, just a little strained.

"Do you know where they work?"

Casey frowned, wary of his current behavior, half reasonable, half controlled. "Some type of store. Different days, 9 to..." she trailed off, trying to remember when they came home, but it was always varying times.

Dennis stared at the papers before him, half listening to the girl, half waiting for one of the alters to answer his questions.

There was evidence of there being at least three different jobs in the office, each with different schedules. He found write ups for missing work at all but one of them, a woman's department store downtown that he had to assume Barry worked at. Barry at least seemed to make it to and from work. The realization that Dennis had interrupted it that day made him growl in frustration.

Half of the bills were paid. He had set the utilities on automatic withdrawal when they found this place. The only other bill that was paid regularly was the cable. Car insurance had been cancelled due to overdue bills, which explained why Barry had been walking. Every other piece of the budget was spread out in scraps of half receipts from ridiculous places Dennis didn't even recognize. The rent, he saw, had been paid sporadically, and was still due. It was a wonder they hadn't been evicted. He groaned, hands raking across his scalp.

"Is something wrong?" the girl asked, and Dennis's head jerked up. He went to answer her when his gaze focused on the grey material pulled across her chest. There was a stain, just beside the buttons, and Dennis felt his hands clench as tremors began through him.

"You got coffee," he ground out, "on my shirt."

She looked down, "this, this is yours?" she gasped, but all Dennis heard was Kevin's mother, her screams reverberating in his mind. He worked so hard to keep them out, but his walls had been stripped and weakened and they slammed into him.

KEVIN WENDALL CRUMB. YOU MADE A MESS

"Take it-" he swallowed, trying to stop the words, the desperate need to reach across and rip the soiled garment off of her.

"Take it off." A whisper, slipping out underneath his attempt at control, and he could see her taking unsteady steps backwards, his eyes on the stain as it retreated from him.

Her hands came into view, struggling with the buttons, whimpering cries echoing at the edge of his attention. Her fingers worked a button loose, the stain shifted as the shirt parted, and Dennis froze as a smooth patch of skin appeared. Something else flooded through Dennis and he clutched his hands so tightly he hissed in pain.

"Stop."

Casey froze as the one word reached her. She had forgotten, somehow, impossibly, so used to her constant layers that she for once wore nothing underneath. So frightened of his attacking her again, she had just wanted to get this over with, but as the cool air of the kitchen touched her exposed skin, she froze, nausea rolling up in her stomach. 

She hadn't meant to do this. She hadn't meant to.

He was staring, eyes burning, expression tightening to one of intense anger and need and Casey felt the blood drain from her face.

"Please." She didn't recognize the voice that whispered it, when Dennis suddenly blinked, straightening.

"My my, little dove," Patricia cooed, taking in her unbuttoned shirt with a raised brow, "Having fun while the others are away?"

Casey pushed past her, not wanting to deal with the older woman right now. She ducked into the laundry room and slammed the door. She could stay there until the laundry was done and she was safe under her layers again.

A few minutes later she heard Barry curse, "Now how did I get here. ughh. It better not have been Hedwig. I am sooo late. Bye Case!" He called, and Casey heard the door swing shut behind him.

He came home as Barry. Casey didn't say a word about Dennis. Barry noticed the wary look in her eye, but didn't ask.

She went to sleep alone, Hedwig creeping in sometime past midnight when a wind picked up outside, scraping branches against the roof. He crawled into bed under the guise of checking on her, and Casey let him curl around her, not even pretending she wasn't thankful for the warmth. Hedwig was sweet, and innocent, and wrapped around her like she was a teddy bear, and it didn't matter that his weight was half crushing her. His lips were parted like a sleeping child, his hand bunched in her shirt, and Casey stroked his back gently until they both fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Dennis woke just before dawn. He was stretched in the familiarity of his own bed, but an unfamiliar presence was burning into his skin.

It utterly astounded him. How could this be happening again.

The others used to take better care, watch what they were doing before he came into the light. But now there was no warning, he was aware in a moment of his own body, left in in the foreign position of another alter.

 His body curled against hers. His hand was wrapped in the strands of her hair, fingers of the other bunched in the shirt at her waist. He was clinging  to her. 

She moved, and Dennis hissed in a breath. It had just been a clumbsy stretch in sleep, but her shirt pulled up enough that his knuckles drug across smooth skin. 

He was so close. His body too close. 

Dennis swallowed a curse, fighting a feeling rising within him. His hands were shaking when they untangled from her. When he rose from the bed without her waking, the cold that hit him was a sorry relief.

He stepped purposefuly out of the small bedroom, and felt someone stirring behind the light.

Barry, Dennis practically growled in relief. The allusive alter was finally close enough to talk to and maybe now Dennis would finally get some answers.

He mechanically went through the actions of making breakfast as he focused on the other alter. 

Barry looked embarrassed to see him, no evidence that Dennis had been missed. That he had been gone at all. Instead the smaller man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. -Hey, Dennis.-

Dennis skipped the pleasantries. What is going on.

Barry seemed to look over his shoulder, -If this is about the budget I know it's a little sideways, but I'm working on it.-

Dennis growled out loud, "The girl, Barry." He snapped, "why is she always here?"

Barry blanched a little. -She... lives here- he tried to sound convincing, but Dennis saw a wariness in his eye.

I know she's yours. Dennis stated, assuming Barry didn't want to tell him about the relationship, no doubt afraid of how he would react. He was not unaccustomed to the others trying to keep such things from him. 

Were they that frightened of what he would do. Scared to even speak to him in case they set him off.

Barry colored, -Oh, yeah. We're, yeah. that's why she's here.- he sent Dennis an unconvincing smile. -Look, I gotta go,- he said, disappearing before Dennis could snap at him. 

Dennis blinked down at the eggs that were beginning to burn, and resolutely moved them off the burner.

The girl lived here. For how long? He wondered how many times she and Barry had- he broke off the thought, wincing. 

The first night Dennis had seen her was in his bed, in Barry's disgusting shirt.

But there was no escaping the image of her then, unbuttoning Dennis's own shirt from her body. It flooded his mind, and Dennis gritted his teeth in anger, pushing the thought away.

The others didn't trust that part of him, didn't like the fierceness that rose up so strongly it almost strangled him.

Why had they brought him back?

Barry was mostly holding down his job, couldn't be bothered enough by the bills to be truly worried about them. Had a relationship that was going so well the girl had chosen to stay here. 

It wasn't as if they had missed Dennis. The did not want him here, he wasn't so foolish to believe that. They wouldn't even talk to him now.

In the beginning, he and the others passed eachother's thoughts almost constantly, each seeing every little piece of eachother's lives. As they grew they learned to give and keep a little more privacy. The others had begun avoiding him altogether towards the end, but they were so completely absent now he had to search for them whenever he needed to talk, and it was getting frustrating.

Their silence was approaching the absurd. The only one who had been anywhere near Dennis lately had been the boy.

He was as alone and ignored as before they had shoved him into the black.

Why bring him back to just pretend he didn't exist?

He stayed in the light, discarding the ruined eggs and beginning again. He made two plates of food, leaving the second covered. 

He went to write the girl's name on it, but realized he didn't know it.

Kitchen cleaned, Dennis went into the office, taking a moment to survey it. He spent the next hour reorganizing everything. There was not as much dirt or dust as he feared he would find. Someone had atleast attempted to clean this space.

 He found Barry's work schedule and made a larger copy, one that was easier for the others to see. He found an unopened calander and began marking when bills were due and how much. A system so simple even the boy could follow it.

The year blazoned in the corner still winked mockingly at him as he wrote, legible proof of all the lost time in the black. The letters beneath his marker wobbled as his hands shook, and Dennis laid the marker down with a sigh, frowning at the uneven line.

Standing, he hung the calendar. He did a futile search for Barry as he headed back to the room, knowing it was time for him to get ready, but couldn't find him.

Dennis pushed into the room, careful not to make too much noise, to disturb the soft breaths coming from the girl on his- on Barry's bed. He crossed to the dresser, noticing the laundry in the basket too full beside it, filled with pieces from everyone's wardrobe. They had all been out in frequent bursts. Left their belongings discarded and unwashed. Something had fallen behind the basket, and he reached for it with a scowl.

His fingers closed around the smooth grey material, and he knew it was one of his shirts. But there was simply no way he had tossed it there. His laundry was in the other corner, and they knew better than to disturb his clothes. 

At least they used to. The thought of what they had done with his belongings while he was gone left a dark residue at the edge of his focus. 

He shook out the garment and his eyes zeroed in on the stain by the breast pocket. His hands stilled. The only initial reaction was to cross to the waste basket and discard the soiled article of clothing. The stain had set, and probably wouldn't come out. But there was a voice inside of him whispering that she had worn this, the soft sleeping girl. 

Dennis found himself folding it carefully, tucking the stain out of sight, and crossing to lay it neatly beside his own hamper.

Perhaps the stain could be removed.

Dennis showered, quickly and efficiently, not letting himself relax under the stream of water, not letting himself remember the heat of unexpected touch that he had woken beside.

He exited the shower, careful to step onto the mat and not drip. He toweled off, slipping into his dress pants, socks, shoes, he reached for his shirt, realizing he had forgotten his belt.

He crossed the steaming room and opened the door.

He blinked at the light, not realizing the girl had woken and turned it on. She was standing by the bed, barefoot and wrinkled, and Dennis felt a flash of relief that she was not in his own clothes, but something darker walked the back corner of his mind. 

She turned as he entered, her smile slipping when she saw him.

He wondered how she knew, how she instinctively knew he was not Barry. He cleared his throat, "Good morning." It seemed the most sensible thing to say.

*********

Casey stared at him, the hard dark eyes, alerting her instantly to who held this body now. The same alter who had controlled those hands. Pressing rough against her, shoving her, hurting her and she flinched back at the memory.

Something flickered across his expression and he sighed, hand rubbing his head in that agitated habit of his.

"Look, girl," his voice was gruff, like a common street thug, but his tone was clipped, as cold as his movement. "I don't mean to scare you. I am trying," he rolled his shoulders, shifting uncomfortably, "To be good. but I've been gone," his voice went softer, "for a time. And I'm still getting my bearin's."

Casey stared at him, at the honesty that had replaced the harsh light in his eye, and she found words falling out of her.

"My name's Casey."

He blinked.

"Don't call me girl," it sounded rude, but Casey was flustered. He nodded as if accepting her reproach before going to turn away. When he flinched, eyes losing focus. 

"Barry." Dennis snapped, it sounded like a command, then abruptly Barry was coming towards her.

"Oh, that man, he's so," Barry shook himself, "he's definitely rough around the edges."

He felt Dennis in the back of his mind, angry with him for skipping into the light instead of talking to Dennis when Dennis had stepped back, but he could feel the beast pacing far behind, listening, and he couldn't say a word to Dennis when the beast could hear. Why was he making this so difficult?

They all had felt the beast pacing restlessly. But it stayed away from Dennis. Barry could only hope it was because the beast could feel Dennis was stronger. He wanted to believe more than anything that his plan would work. 

But it would be dashed to pieces if they couldn't somehow keep the beast in the dark. 

He couldn't explain to Casey, to Dennis, to anyone while the beast lurked in the background. 

If Dennis was going to help them, Casey was going to have to ask him for it. And Barry didn't know how to tell her that.

Barry glanced at the clock, frowning down at himself. "Oh so drab, and no time to change," he kissed Casey's forehead and scooted by her, snatching up a shirt, trying frantically to just go through the motions, to escape any questions Casey might throw his way and accidentally let the beast know what they had planned.

**********

It was a strained week that passed. The others identities kept her company when they were home, but were nervous around her. She could see it sometimes in Barry's eye, that the beast was watching from just behind. They still flashed in and out of eachother's way, sometimes almost comically exasperated when they were interrupted mid sentence, but Casey began to feel a strange sense of order fill in around them. Barry left on time every morning, he, or sometimes another alter, not coming home until after four. She was surprised one morning to hear a car start. Barry drove to work every morning after that.

Dennis had not threatened, had hardly spoken to her, in days. She avoided him as best she could. She heard him sometimes at night, moving around the apartment, but she never went out. On one hand she was grateful, the memory of his angry, unsteady gaze set her on edge and trickled fear into her heart. But she found herself, at strange and random times, suddenly speaking to him, intending to talk, to say something, but she always fell short.

They had stilted, awkward conversations that lasted only a minute before Dennis would turn stiffly and walk away, and Casey began to grow annoyed. What right did he have to seem so put out whenever she opened her mouth? He had been the one who had been angry and out of control, not her. 

She would grow angry just at the sight of him, the glasses, darker than the ones Orwell wore. That rigid posture that felt unnatural, like he was trying to hold himself tall and a little bit away from her. He never looked at her when they spoke, his gaze was always just beside her. It was driving Casey mad.

She was trapped here, caged up with nothing to do, with a revolving door of alters who were too afraid to actually speak to her, and her only chance of freedom was a hard eyed man with an unstable mind and an overbearing presence. 

Casey had had enough.

It was Dennis who walked through the door after work, she was certain of it, despite Barry's sweater vest clinging to his frame. She stood just outside of the kitchen, waiting for him.

He ignored her, removing his shoes carefully, setting them by the door. He shrugged out of the sweater, turning to head towards the bedroom to fully change. Casey stepped into his way, biting back a twinge of unease when his gaze settled squarely on her for the first time in days.

"Why did they push you back?" The question sprung out despite her carefully planned words, and she saw his jaw clench as he looked away.

She thought he wasn't going to answer, when he spoke.

"I'm not like them. I'm... difficult to get along with."

Casey didn't know what to say. Difficult to get along with? No kidding. At her silence, Dennis shifted, speaking again, "When they didn't need me anymore, they thought they would be happier without me." His eyes wandered over her as if she were proof of something, "I think they were right."

"No," Casey shook her head.  "No, they still need you, Dennis."

He scoffed, looking away as he folded his arms, she was surprised to see they were bare. It wasn't like him, Barry's v-neck tshirt still on his powerful frame. "They never, he never would have gotten you if I was still around."

For one excruciatingly hopeful moment she thought he meant the beast, but Dennis shook his head, a flash of self disgust disappearing from his face. "Barry could never find someone before."

"Dennis," Casey took a half step forward, "I'm not with Barry."

Confusion lit his eye. "Then why are you here?"

Dennis watched fear begin to creep into her eyes, and something dark stirred behind his own.

"Why did they bring me back?" It was a soft whisper, and Casey stared.

"Are they keeping you here?" he demanded gruffly, and she started. 

He didn't know. They hadn't told him. He was back and didn't even know about the beast they needed him to fight against.

Dennis felt rage build. He knew something was wrong. He had known since the moment he saw her, she did not belong here with them. Barry said she lived here, but nothing of hers was anywhere in the apartment. She had one set of clothes that she wore between borrowing the others. She had crept about him in half hidden fear, obviously uncomfortable around him. It would be easy for her just to get out of the apartment for a while when he had the light, but she never left.

She wouldn't have stayed around him all week if she had had a choice.

"You need to leave." he strode forward, gripping her arm, even as she struggled.

"No, Dennis, wait!"

He couldn't hear over the pounding in his ears. Which one? Which one had taken her? They were so sickened, so disturbed by the darkness they could see in him, which one of them had done this? He dragged the girl to the door, rage soaking his body. He had always known, always feared what they were capable of, what dark deeds this body could do.

They reached the door just as she collapsed, dropping like a stone and Dennis grunted at the sudden weight against his arm. She was staring, past him with horror, and Dennis turned his eyes to follow hers.

He blinked at the scratches on the door, the ugly mark he hadn't noticed before, the warning ripped from the wood.

I would find you.

Dennis felt his blood freeze, his heart crumple into smoldering ash.

"No." 

Casey stared before her as the man groaned in a heart-wrenching cry, sinking to the ground below. 

"No. it can't it can't be." he was muttering, hands covering his head, tremors wracking him.

He had tried so hard, had held onto the darkness for so long. He had fought. 

But it had broken free.

"The beast." The harsh whisper ripped into Casey and she froze as his head came up, his eyes searing into her own with crazed remorse. "It took you."

It wasn't a question, but Casey nodded, whimpering backwards when a roar broke from Dennis, almost inhumane in sound. He surged to his feet, hands fisting as his frame trembled.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH HER!"

Casey watched as his eyes reddened and a snarl broke his lips.

"She's miiiinnne."

Dennis collapsed as images filled his head: Casey's body, bare and broken as the beast tore every piece from her, stripping her soul and the light from her eyes. He screamed as the beast's laughter rumbled out of him.

Casey watched the form of the man crumple before her eyes, the veins that had been spreading calming as his body slumped to the ground.

Chapter Text

There was a feeling, as terror receded, that lay like sick in the pit of Casey's stomach. She was torn, torn between crawling to him and leaving him in a heap on the floor as she ran. Her legs felt like wood but she got them beneath her. Her body could move. She had learned that a long time ago. Even if it felt like it wasn't hers anymore, she would watch it go through the actions of living without her. Until she found a way to make her skin feel her own again.

It would move because it had to. To surive, it had to. And Casey had learned to survive.

He still lay. Moments after the beast had tried to take over that body, it still lay in silence on the floor. Something had stopped the beast from coming through. It may have been the unsteady alter that they all tried to believe would fight the beast back. He was stronger than all of them, Barry said. A timid hope whispered that maybe he would be strong enough.

There was blood on his lip. She stared at it as she stood over him, at the slightly parted lips that let in uneasy breath, torn from the teeth that had bared against them. Blood that didn't belong there. And she moved. Casey gathered a tissue and wiped it away softly, cradling his head in her hands with illogical gentleness as if it had been Barry, or Hedwig lying there. The body stirred, moaning, and Dennis opened his eyes.

He blinked up at her. "I'm sorry." It was a hoarse whisper and Casey was locked in place as his hand rose, as if unthinking.

"You know about the beast," Casey whispered, afraid to move, to break whatever softness had come into this hardened man, afraid to acknowledge the barest touch on her jaw.

"I've always known about him," Dennis groaned, his normal frown falling into its place as his hand left her skin. He sat up with a small grunt.

"How?" Casey's eyes followed him as he sat beside her, his arm draping across his knee in a position that would seem relaxed on someone else. Dennis only bore it out of exhaustion.

"He came after you were gone," she added quietly. Barry had told her, the story of how they had all come to be, and Dennis looked at her.

"What?" he croaked, as if the beast's voice had rubbed his throat raw.

"Barry told me you were the first um, alter. But the beast didn't come until after you were gone. So you couldn't have known..."

Dennis was shaking his head, a slight, tired movement, but it was enough to get her attention. "I wasn't the first alter, Casey. The beast was."

Her expression was fixed in confused disbelief, eyes staring at him too intently. Dennis grew uncomfortable, looking away.

"Then why did Barry say-" she began but he waved her off.

"The others didn't know about him."

Casey studied him, the broken edge to his eye that he kept trying to blink away, to find that stoic calm. It couldn't be possible, what he was saying. That the beast had always been there, always in side of them? But the others never knew. How could they not know?

"You held him back." Casey whispered the realization and watched as Dennis' gaze fell, unable to look at her, to acknowledge the words. She reached out, and he flinched harshly when her hand met his arm, caught in this moment where nothing felt real, "Dennis, you..." she trailed off.

He shifted. "It wanted out. I couldn't let it. It would hurt them."

The years he must have spent keeping the beast locked behind him, Casey shuddered, unable to even imagine it.

He felt it, the shudder that passed through her, read the disgust that would have to be in her eyes. Couldn't bring himself to look.

"Did it hurt you?" she whispered. He flinched again. And something in Casey broke as she watched his expression settle into stone. His gaze lifted to hers, cold blue steel and her heart wrenched at his words.

"Tried to."

There was so much hidden anger there, dark energy trembling beneath the surface.

How many times had Casey told herself her uncle couldn't hurt her? No matter what he did it wouldn't hurt if she didn't let it. How many times had she convinced herself that it didn't matter. Shut everything off so deep inside that all there was left was hollow steel and she needed to bleed in order to feel again.

She was moving before she knew it, not understanding why. Her hands rose shaking to cup his face, and she saw his eyes widen. He jerked when her forehead came to rest against his own, his entire body tensing as his breath hitched in his chest.

She opened her eyes, gazing at the space between them and saw his hands fisted in the carpet, fingers squeezed white.

The years spent tormented in his mind came rolling back over him, each memory layered on the next. The raging darkness that pressed against everything he did, trying to be let out. It pushed thoughts and images and wants into his head, it tore him to the bone and he had fought it every waking moment. He had kept his life rigid and in complete control because he had to, he had to because if he slipped the beast would emerge.

He saw how the others hated him and he wanted to tell them, but was never convinced that they would believe him. Because the beast had been whispering, little thoughts in his mind that there wasn't a beast at all, that the darkness was his. It was him who wanted to tear and hurt and take and part of him had believed it, part of him hadn't even tried when the others pushed him away.

But once alone in that black he felt the beast stretch towards freedom. He had latched on with everything he had, felt his fingers shred as he held it back and they had struggled in that black void until he had blinked away into the darkness, stupidly believing that he had taken the beast with him.

But he had only set it free.

The girl, Casey, was too close, her tears falling against him and he bit back a groan as his body began to crave her warmth, her touch, wishing it would cover him and spread into his soul, burning the black away.

He faced every agonizing moment she had laid against him, asleep and convinced it was another man's arms she lay in, and he had let her. He had convinced himself he was doing it not to frighten her, but in truth he couldn't pull himself away.

He had stayed rigidly away from her for days, eyes averted, hands clenched at his sides and now she was touching, feeling him, and his heart beat in a rhythm that hurt.

He swallowed thickly, feeling Barry pass into the background of his mind.

"You're scared," he mumbled, "I'll let..."

And a moment later he was different, arms circling her automatically. For a moment she thought it was Dennis, but when Barry spoke in her ear, she could not explain why the gentle sounds of his voice made her sob harder.

Barry felt the beast pacing, feeling strangely victorious, and his heart wrenched open.

"Oh Casey, did it, did he." he pushed back, looking at her in horror and Casey shook her head, lips pressed into a hard line.

She began to shiver violently, shaking with tremors, and Barry hauled her against him, rocking her, "Babygirl, babygirl," he murmured it against her but she continued to shake, her teeth beginning to rattle. Barry carefully lifted her, carrying her to the room.

He tried to set her on the bed, but she clawed at him, shaking her head violently.

"I was just gonna run you a bath, sweetie, you're shivering."

But she wouldn't let go, and he carried her into the small bathroom. He settled beside the tub, keeping her tucked against his chest as she continued to shake against him.

With one hand he turned on the shower, letting it heat.

caseybear casey bear the voice danced through Casey's mind, drowning out the sound of everything around her. Memories she thought she had escaped from pulverized her mind, the voice of the beast echoing over them all blended with the perverted sounds of her uncle's grunts.

She felt like her shell was rattling free and that the twisted mass of what was left of her heart was about to be exposed to the world, and she couldn't bear it.

"You should get in," Barry's warm voice invaded her mind, and she shook her head, shuddering uncontrollably. "It will warm you up. You'll feel better."

"Come with me." She whimpered it and felt him puff out a breath.

"That's not a good idea, sweetheart."

She was shaking and terrified and everything within him wanted to sooth her tears, to hold her and caress her and tell her it would be alright. He was a physical man and he knew it. As much as he loved this sweet girl in front of him in every innocent way, he was a man and the thought of showering with her raised interest in areas that did not need to be raised.

"I could ask Patricia?" he said, but she shook her head, and Barry nodded, yeah, he wouldn't want the prickly woman either. He felt someone at the back of his thoughts and grimaced.

"Shove off, Dennis."

He felt Casey move, "Dennis?" she asked shakily.

Barry tightened his hold, "Don't worry about him, sweetheart, he was trying to worm in."

"Could you... could you let him?"

Barry frowned, and Casey looked up at him.

"Are you alone?" she asked, her shivering punctuating the words, and Barry sighed as the beast paced.

"No," he answered honestly.

"Is he?" she asked, though she somehow already knew the answer, and he nodded, watching her expression harden stubbornly.

"Then let him in."

Barry scowled like he wasn't going to do it, but then he blinked and she watched his expression fall. Dennis shifted beneath her, freezing in place as she moved against his chest, and blinked at her slowly.

"I just wanted to check, I didn't realize you were..." his voice was gruff and awkward, and he frowned as he felt Casey's tremors, his arms still around her.

"You're cold," he said, then seemed to register where they were. "Were you going to shower?"

The logical line of his voice helped Casey push away just a little from the dark grip of memories in her mind. She nodded meekly. "Barry thought it would help."

Casey found herself whispering, and he tensed beneath her for some reason, abruptly pushing her away. The steam from the shower was shaving away the cold against her skin, unable to reach the ice clenched around her core. He moved back a few paces, sitting stiffly, eyeing her warily.

Casey watched him. His back was to the tub wall, body sprawled however it had landed when he moved, like he didn't have the energy to hold himself like he normally would. He looked like a regular man. If Casey saw him now she would think it was another alter. It was unsettling, that he was missing that edge that made him Dennis. She watched him sigh, try to straighten out. He was so worn.

"The beast, it tried to come out fully, earlier, didn't it?" It had been different from when it would use the other alters, to peak through enough to let her know he was always there. This time the beast had tried to take full control of that body.

"Yes," he answered gruffly.

"You stopped him."

He didn't respond.

"Did it hurt you?"

He winced the smallest fraction, attempting to hide it behind his cold expression, and Casey crawled closer.

"Dennis, are you okay?"

He looked away, his breath becoming unsteady, "You should get in the shower," he ground out.

"I'm not cold anymore," she answered honestly. Reaching up behind his head, she turned off the water.

The sudden silence echoed, muffled by the steam that hung in the air.

"Dennis?" she whispered as he stared at a place on the floor. She followed his gaze, but couldn't see any spots or stains on the white tile. "Why don't you go lay down for a while," she tried. When he didn't respond, she moved as if to touch him, and he turned hard, angry eyes on her.

"Go away," he snapped, and Casey drew back, wary of his change in mood. "Get away from me, Casey." There was a grip to his tone, a threat in his eye. Casey shivered, backing away. She stood silently and left the tiny bathroom, moving woodenly to sit on the center of her bed.

Dennis groaned out a sigh, letting his head fall back against the ceramic wall of the tub, hating the weak tremors that were passing through his limbs, glad that Casey had left before he had to admit he wasn't sure if he could stand.

It was some time later before Casey heard movement in the other room. Footsteps, then the bathroom door swung shut. The shower turned back on.

Dennis stood beneath the spray, every droplet adding weight to his body and he resolutely straightened against every one. He had lain on the cold tile floor like a weak, disgusting animal, and now he stoically washed the grime away.

He stepped out, taking his towel, gathering his soiled laundry. He kept his thoughts back and movements even.

He opened the door and saw the girl, still on the bed, back to him and he entered the room without speaking. His thoughts formed a checklist of everything he needed to do.

He deposited his laundry in his hamper. Selected clean clothing. Returned to the bathroom to dress. Placed towel in hamper. He walked through the bedroom again without looking at the girl. She was not on the list. He reached the door when she spoke.

"Thank you."

Casey watched the man freeze, hand still on the doorknob. His head bowed, he turned a micro amount towards her. Then she heard his indrawn breath as his shoulders squared, his head lifted, and Dennis exited the room.

Chapter Text

The next morning Casey stepped quietly from her room. It was early still, Saturday, and she knew when they didn't have to work, Barry and the other alters enjoyed sleeping in.

Casey hadn't slept a drop. She was grumpy, sore, and wanted coffee. She crossed quietly into the kitchen, stopping when she spotted the figure at the counter. Dennis was seated, dressed in clean, even lines of grey, a cup of coffee sat beside the paper his attention was fixed on.

She studied his profile, the prominent brow, the metal rimmed glasses set on his angular nose. He reminded her of old photographs, when it took so long to capture an image people chose expressions easier to hold.

Dennis's face couldn't hold a smile. It held in lines of steel.

He reached for his coffee, gaze still focused on the paper in front of him.

"Good morning." he spoke it quietly, as if to the empty kitchen. Casey started, embarrassed that he had known she was there, silently watching him.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Casey grumbled, she circled the counter and pulled a mug from the shelf above the sink, helping herself to the coffee.

She could feel Dennis's gaze on her and she tried to ignore it. She tried to think of something to say, but she hadn't forgotten the angry way he had snapped at her. She glanced at him, and for a moment met his serious gaze, watching her expressionlessly like she held absolutely no interest to him.

"Can I talk to Barry?" she asked hopefully, and Dennis shifted slightly, his gaze returning to his paper.

"I can't find him."

Casey scowled in confusion at his words, and he corrected himself despite not having looked up at her expression, "He's nowhere near the light right now."

"Hedwig?" she asked hopefully. Dennis just shook his head.

"Patricia?" she croaked, now she was getting really desperate.

His head lifted slowly and when his gaze met hers, Casey shivered. It was full of a deep resignation that bordered on brittle despair.

"I understand you don't want to be near me, girl, but no one else is near the light."

"I told you not to call me that," Casey snapped with unnecessary gruffness, and she watched his lips form a hard edge before he looked away.

"Casey," he amended, "There isn't anyone else right now."

"Well where are they?" Casey felt an unnatural rise of anger, and she set her mug down hard on the counter. Dennis flinched when some of the hot liquid splashed out onto the white surface. Casey ignored it even as it held Dennis's gaze.

"I'm not certain. Could you-" he stopped as Casey moved her mug, dragging it through the spilled liquid, spreading it further.

Dennis coughed, hating the panicky feeling welling up inside, hating that he couldn't look away from just a few drops of coffee.

Abruptly Casey realized what she was doing. She was toying with him, preying on his instincts, and she stumbled back a little, feeling sickened. She grabbed a napkin, quickly wiping up the drops, her hands trembling as she hardly recognized herself.

She saw Dennis shift out of the corner of her eye, heard his small exhale as he carefully reached for his own coffee.

"Is the beast there?" Casey whispered, and his hand stilled a split moment before carrying on its action.

"There's no one here."

It was quiet a moment. He cleared his throat.

"I think that perhaps it is watching them more intently, and they're staying away from the light so it can't over hear."

"Why doesn't the beast watch you?" Casey whispered, staring at the counter in front of her. She heard him move.

"I dunno." It was spoken low.

"When is it coming?"

"I don't know, Casey." He sounded almost annoyed, and her gaze came up.

"I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?" She didn't know what had gotten into her, she was never like this. But she felt flushed with anger and she was so tired of being afraid.

"Has my being kidnapped interrupted your quiet morning?" she ranted at him. His expression hadn't moved a muscle, but he sat up, arms folded over his chest, as if calmly waiting for her to continue.

"Well let me just leave then. Oh wait, I can't. Because when I try, you turn into a disgusting beast!"

The words were screaming out of her, and it was like railing against frozen iron. He did not react, respond, do anything. She didn't know it, but in that moment she was witnessing Dennis play his truest role. To accept the weight of anger, and abuse, to let it hit him, chip into him, but never let him crumble, never let it break through and hit the others.

She screamed at him and he took it all.

"Do you know what that thing wants to do to me!"

She was nearing the end of her tirade, her energy evaporating quickly, and he must have recognized this for he moved slightly in his seat.

"I'm aware." He said it so lightly. So evenly. and Casey began to cry.

She sank down to the floor, gasping as weak waves wracked her body. She felt flushed and confused and just wrong.

She heard a long sigh. Dennis moved to stand above her.

"Please get off of the floor." He sounded so reasonable, his accent warming and dipping into each word. Casey cried harder. He stood another moment, before reaching down for her arm.

He drew back almost immediately after her touched her. Then he was kneeling beside her.

"Casey," his low voice held a different tone, and she felt cool fingers brush against her skin, rest against her forehead.

He mumbled something low that sounded like a curse, before she felt his hands pulling on her arms.

"You need to lie down."

Casey didn't want to move. She wanted to stay here on the kitchen floor and not be told what to do.

"Casey, please."

She stuck her tongue out at him, hardly aware of doing it, and heard something in between a grunt and a snort. The next thing she was fully aware of was being placed on her bed.

She tried to crawl out of it, but hands where there, pushing her back and she frowned fiercely at them.

Dennis tried twice more to keep her still but to no avail. She kept frowning at him, brow puckered, face flushed with heat that poured from her skin, alerting him that she was unwell. Every time he put her back on the bed, he had to resist the urge to forcibly pin her down. He gripped his hands closed, taking in a steadying breath, then Dennis made a snap decision.

"Really, baby girl, you need to settle down."

Casey gasped at the voice suddenly above her.

"O thank heavens, Barry, Dennis is being mean to me." She missed the way the man above her flinched, a strange whine entering her voice.

"Well, Dennis is a mean man. But you need to rest, Casey."

"I don't want to." Casey grumbled. She caught Barry's hand, peering up at him, "Will you stay with me, please?"

She scooched over on the bed, making room for him, and Dennis bit back a frustrated groan. He hadn't meant to do this for more than a moment or two, just to get her to calm down and rest so her body could fight off whatever illness she had come down with.

Casey had other ideas. She kept tugging on his hand, giggling a little in the back of her throat, and Dennis felt his own throat tighten.

He settled carefully on the edge of the bed, chanting to himself to relax or she would know, but Casey didn't seem to be in a state to care.

She crawled over to him, she pulled him down, curling right up against him, the heat of her more intense than usual and Dennis let out a quiet hiss as her leg hooked over his waist. Her head buried into his shoulder, and she let out the tiniest little sigh.

"You should sleep, babygirl." Dennis said, fighting for his voice not to sound strangled.

She fell quiet, and he thought she was asleep, when she stirred. "Hey Barry?"

"hmm?" it was a noncommittal sound, and she wiggled a little closer.

"What you said, about Dennis. I think maybe you were wrong. I think maybe you should have kept him."

Dennis's throat closed off, relief taking him when she dropped off to sleep without realizing he hadn't responded, without realizing he was trembling.

Dennis stared at the space between the dresser and the bathroom door, blinking it in and out of focus, taking even breaths. Casey was latched against him, a dead weight now that she slept. Dennis had tried twice now to extricate himself, but the sleeping girl was having none of it. She had claimed him with her sleeping body and her tiny frame engulfed him like he was a lifeline. It reminded him, in some ways, of how Hedwig had curled into to her, how Dennis had awoken that morning still holding her as tightly as Hedwig had clung in his sleep.

His breath hitched and Dennis scowled, forcing it back. Forcing his eyes to stare only at the place, the safe place on the wall, and not drift down to the sleeping girl.

He didn't want to see her against him. Lips parted in sleep, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other spread against him, fingertips curled just so slightly to fit the contour of his chest. He didn't want to feel the heat of her sinking into him, hear the sound she made in her sleep, the tiny breath of a whine when she moved tighter against him.

Dennis swallowed a curse, his head falling backwards to hit the headboard with a solid thud.

She curled at the sound, her hand sliding lower down his chest.

she thinks you're Barryy. she thinks you're Barry. It passed through his mind like a recitation, forcing calm thought and he felt it, the darker thoughts welling beneath. Images flashed of her flushed and against him, a voice whispering to find out how far she would let Barry go.

Dennis squeezed his eyes shut, a groan tearing through his teeth as he fought the images back. They morphed and changed and he was staring at what the beast had planned for her, the thoughts he had flooded into Dennis's mind as Casey's words echoed over top. Do you know what he wants to do to me?

Dennis's body jerked as he gagged, unable to escape the images in his mind of her bare and broken. He was consumed with the memory of the beast rising up in him, tearing its way into the light and how excruciatingly thin his hold had been when he had forced him back.

But he had forced him back because that it what he was. That is what he did. He existed, not to want, not to breathe, but to be the line between the light and darkness, hard and unflinching.

Lines did not want. Walls did not feel. Wanting made him weak, and he had to be strong.

His hands moved her, off of him, away from the heat and she whined in her throat, her eyes briefly fluttering open and he saw confused hurt, but Dennis stood. His hands straightened his shirt, smoothing the material back into place. His hands took the blanket and folded it over, never touching her. His hands tucked into each pocket, and they did not shake when he left the room.

*******

The room blinked into view, and Casey winced as the light hit her eye. She sat up, feeling the ache of her muscles as she moved, stretched across every one. Her throat was sore, her mouth dry and coated with an unpleasant taste. Her head felt stuffed with cotton that someone had set on fire.

"Barry?" she rasped, blinking as she searched the room for him, but he was gone.

On the table beside her there was a glass of water next to two white pills set on a note written in careful hand that read, "take these."

Casey obeyed, gulping down half the water too quickly, before sputtering and setting the glass back on the table. With a groan she flopped back down, clumsily thrashing about in a futile attempt to get comfortable before finally giving in to sleep.

Her breath evened out and she did not hear the quiet sigh in the hall, or see the door click resolutely closed.

*******

Dennis had checked on the girl twice now, the pills she had taken had helped her fall into a still sleep. It was some hours later and he debated waking her to give her more, but decided it was best to let her sleep. He was carefully pinning the last paper in place beside the calendar when he heard the screams. He was reacting before he could even think, breaking into her room before his mind had caught up with his body. She was thrashing on the bed, hoarse screams choking on sobs and Dennis was over her before her could think, his body responding in sheer panic to get her to stop, to stop whatever was hurting her.

Her hands were flailing against the twisted sheets, and Dennis ripped them off of her, freeing her. Her hands connected with his body then, wailing against him and Dennis's mind whited out as memories broke against his mind.

He caught her hands roughly, pinning them to the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as his heart surged against his chest, and he tried to force it to calm.

Casey stopped thrashing, going still as death beneath him, and it took him a moment to open his eyes.

The fever in Casey's mind had raged against the walls that kept the worst of her memories locked away. It had melted them down and released a torrent of terrifying past. She fought, she fought against every one like it would matter, like it could change what had happened then. When she had laid compliant under every touch. Like she hadn't been weak. Like her dreams weren't the only place she ever fought back.

She was jerked into consciousness, pinned under a physical weight and it took her a few gasping moments to realize that this was reality, that the thing above her wasn't a shadow of the past but a man, holding her down, hands closed about her wrists. Casey bucked against him, blinking in terror until her eyes finally focused on his face.

Casey stilled at the pain written there. She had seen the barest glimpse of it before, when Dennis had found her moments after reading the beast's message, when he had wrestled her to the floor and told her she would not scream again. She had felt the same desperate strength in his hands then as she did now. She couldn't help but wonder what memories her screams awoke in him, what terror this man had endured.

It had broken him, hardened him to the point he was almost impenetrable. Made him so that he could stand against the beast. But there were cracks. Things he could not withstand. Like the spilled drop of coffee Casey had taunted him with. It was a weakness, one he managed with the strictest care. One he could survive.

But Dennis could not bear the sound of her screams.

His eyes finally opened, blinking down at her, emotionless.

"You were going to hurt yourself," he stated, as if it could explain the vehemence of his reaction.

"I'm sorry," Casey whispered, and he did not know how completely she meant those two inadequate words.

He frowned as if her apology was useless before sitting up carefully. He reached into his pocket and removed two pills, laying them on the table beside her water.

"Take those," he ordered, before rising and leaving the room.

Chapter Text

Casey did not stir again until late morning the next day, and she stretched, a long groan feeling like it was pulled from every part of her as she did so. She felt better, tired still, but better, and she climbed carefully to her feet.

Dennis was not in the kitchen, and Casey poured herself a glass of water, desperate to get the dry taste out of her mouth. She drained the glass and filled it again, turning from the sink.

On a whim she headed towards the office. She hadn't seen inside since Dennis had begun spending his night hours in there, afraid to disturb anything. But now she pushed inside.

Everything had changed. The desk was against a different wall, more in line with the center of the room. Barry's easel had been set into the corner. Above the desk, papers covered the wall in a neat grid, and Casey approached them curiously.

There was one for every alter, arranged alphabetically, each with a bulleted list of 
Casey did not stir again until late morning the next day, and she stretched, a long groan feeling like it was pulled from every part of her as she did so. She felt better, tired still, but better, and she climbed carefully to her feet.

Dennis was not in the kitchen, and Casey poured herself a glass of water, desperate to get the dry taste out of her mouth. She drained the glass and filled it again, turning from the sink.

On a whim she headed towards the office. She hadn't been inside since Dennis had begun spending his night hours in there, afraid to disturb anything. But now she pushed inside.

Everything had changed. The desk was against a different wall, more in line with the center of the room. Barry's easel had been set into the corner. Above the desk, papers covered the wall in a neat grid, and Casey approached them curiously.

There was one for every alter, arranged alphabetically, each with a bulleted list of responsibilities, reminders.

Barry's work schedule was laid out, 9 to 4pm, the 4pm highlighted in a perfect square of yellow. Patricia's held a reminder to return a book to the library by next Wednesday. Jade's had a reminder to pick up a prescription, and a reminder of where her medicine was kept. She knew Jade moved it around so frequently, she wondered if Dennis had to find it each evening and put it back. Hedwig's was a list of things he was and was not allowed to do. Simple things like no watching scary movies alone. At the bottom there was one added in a neat hand that read "be nice to the girl.'

Casey felt her heart twist a little, confused by the even scrawl. Why would he be concerned if the boy would be unkind?

A calendar was in the center, color coded to match each paper, with x's through each finished day. She saw every so often one of the perfect marks was replaced with a wavering one, almost as if Hedwig had marked that day. She wondered if Hedwig snuck in here, or if Dennis let him.

She heard footsteps in the hall and someone pushed the door open. Assuming it was Barry, Casey spoke, still studying the wall.

"Did he do this for you before?" she asked quietly.

There was silence, then he spoke. "Yes."

It wasn't Barry's voice, and Casey turned sharply to face Dennis. She started violently when she saw Dennis standing right behind her, still and tall like he had been there all along. He reached out and calmly took the glass that had almost slipped from her fingers, setting it on the desk beside them. He did not speak, he seemed to be inspecting her and Casey felt her cheeks warm at his cool, dissecting look.

He stood watching her.

"They didn't like it." he said almost to himself, "Said it was too controlling."

It was said without feeling, but Casey felt a sudden ache in her heart. When Barry had told her they sent him away, she had imagined a monster. Sometimes facing Dennis she saw one. But other times he seemed so quiet and so careful, silently taking care of all the others despite the fact that they never even thanked him.

At her silence he spoke again, "You seem improved."

Casey rolled her eyes at his statement, reaching for her water.

"Yeah," she croaked awkwardly, "I feel a lot better. Thank you," she added after a moment, but Dennis didn't react.

"I need to inform you, the others have made a decision," It was fascinating to Casey as he spoke, her mind still a bit groggy, the muffled distinction of each word, spoken so precisely in an accent that was both rough and strangely warm. She let her eyes trail over him. His shirt was a dark grey, holding the faintest touch of green, tucked into his straight grey slacks. An image flashed in her mind of him buttoning the buttons on each wrist, with sure and exact movements. She was unsure of when she would have seen that. The strength of his movements was enticing, comforting knowing what they faced. But he held himself so stiffly, she wondered if she would ever get to see his body match his voice. Rough, warm, strong.

Casey blinked away from the thoughts, staring a bit open mouthed as her thoughts refocused and she shook her head. She must still be a bit feverish.

Dennis had paused as if waiting for her response, but decided to continue.

"They feel it is best if they limit their time here, with you. They've regained some balance and will be spending their time in the light during the work hours. It will be the best way to limit the beast's access to you. They will be here occasionally, to avoid suspicion, but you will be seeing less of them."

Casey was still blinking at him mutely and she watched him straighten more, as if that was even possible,

"I understand you won't be comfortable with the arrangement, but I am regaining strength the more time I get in the light. This will help, Casey."

His voice softened the merest amount and something in his eye was asking her to understand, to be okay with spending most of her time here with him.

Casey puffed up her cheeks before letting out a breath. "I think that sounds like a good plan," she said, choosing her words carefully, and she saw him relax a fraction as if relieved she hadn't fought him. She sent him a slightly awkward look, and began to slip by him.

"I'm going to go shower, ok?" She didn't know why she asked, but he nodded once jerkily before she slipped away.

The water felt like liquid perfection, and Casey tried not to moan as it slipped against her sore body. She was covered in a film of dried sweat and she washed it away gently, letting the soap sud against her skin, using more than was necessary, but enjoying the simple action of cleansing her skin.

She only grew willing to leave the shower when she felt the water cool. Then she stepped out, toweling off quickly. She stepped out into the bedroom, still wrapped in her towel, and frowned.

Part of her had been fully intending to march to the bed and burrow under the covers, letting herself fully dry smothered in warmth. But Dennis had stripped the bed, removing each blanket and pillow case, no doubt concerned about the germs. She supposed he had a point. She crossed to Barry's dresser, pulling out a comfortable pair of sweatpants and sighed.

She wouldn't see Barry for a while. Or the others, and strange as it would sound, she would miss them. Well, maybe not Patricia, but she definitely missed seeing Hedwig.

She took her time dressing, pulling on different layers, all of the softest material she could find, but her stomach got the better of her and she followed her hunger to the kitchen.

She pulled out enough things to make a sandwich with and set to work. She hadn't seen Dennis when she passed the living room, and had to assume he was in his office.

Bored, she wandered down the hall, sandwich in hand, the other cupped beneath it, mindful of crumbs.

The door to the office was open a crack, and Casey peaked in.

Dennis was in front of his desk. His left hand rested on the desk as he leaned over it, reading something on one of the papers he had hung for the others. She watched as he glanced down at another paper on the desk, then made a few corrections to the paper on the wall. His posture was strong, but less rigid than she was used to, his body moving with more of a natural ease. The fingers against the desk drummed against the metal as he worked, but it was a light, even sound, in time with his movement. She watched as the fingers stilled and the left hand moved, his gaze still fixed on the paper he read, and reached for a highlighter resting on the shelf. With some fascination she watched him raise it to the paper on the wall and highlight a line, the pen in his right hand checking off something on the paper on the desk.

Dennis was ambidextrous. She wondered how she had never noticed, even while realizing she would scarcely have had a chance to.

He returned everything to its place and straightened, Casey ducking away from the door before he turned.

She finished her sandwich in the kitchen, quickly cleaning up after herself and put on more coffee, pretending she wasn't waiting for Dennis to come down the hall.

He entered the kitchen just as the coffee finished and cleared his throat.

"Barry would like to say hello. He says the beast has moved off some, and he might have a few minutes."

Casey was nodding eagerly even as Dennis shook his head a little and Barry appeared.

"Casey," he said it like a sigh of relief and a moment later his arms were around her. Casey burrowed into the hug, missing his warmth, missing him. "Oh my sweet girl," he stepped back, cupping her face, "How are you? you look better, are you better?"

His eyes seemed to be all over her face, and Casey laughed feeling a little self-conscious.

"Yes, I feel much better. My fever must have broken last night."

Barry's brow furrowed, "You were sick? Oh that's just what you need, something else to deal with," he sighed dramatically and pulled her back into a hug, before stiffening a little.

He cursed softly, "That stupid, ugh, he's coming back love. I'll pop in when I can." He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then in a moment was gone.

Dennis blinked into the light, staggering back from Casey, lips still burning from where they had touched her skin. He had scrubbed his fingers across his mouth before he could stop himself, trying to break from the touch, and saw unexpected anger flash in her eyes.

Casey shouldered by Dennis, ducking her head against the stain of embarrassment. She realized that it wasn't her Dennis was worried about being uncomfortable during the time they were forced to spend together. It was him. She hadn't done a thing to him, and yet he was acting like he was the one putting up with her.

The idea then, that she had interrupted all of their lives and none of them had asked for this flashed, but she shoved it aside. She hadn't asked for this either.

She curled onto the couch in the living room, grabbing up the remote. The back of her mind considered how useful it was that she no longer had to spend twenty minutes looking for it since Dennis had returned, but she pushed the thought away too.

She turned on the tv and flipped mindlessly through the channels, finally settling on an old Disney movie. She heard Dennis come in, saw him standing beside the couch before he cleared his throat.

"Do you mind if I am out here?"

Casey didn't look at him, "Do whatever you want, Dennis," she grumbled, sounding moody but she didn't care.

He hesitated, as if debating what to do, before settling on the other end of the couch. Casey tried to focus on the singing animals on the screen. She hadn't been allowed to watch much when she lived with her uncle, and she only dimly remembered this movie.

Dennis was silent but obviously uncomfortable as he sat, and Casey's mouth opened despite herself.

"I can change this, if you want."

Dennis shook his head slightly, eyes not leaving the screen. "Hedwig likes this movie."

"You've seen it?" Casey asked, and he shrugged a little,

"Some of it, there's a few parts he doesn't like."

Casey found herself sitting up. She remembered that Hedwig hadn't wanted to watch Nightmare Before Christmas without 'Mr. Dennis.' She had assumed that the alter shared the light with him at the time, but now she considered the more likely scenario. Hedwig stepped out of the light whenever something frightened him, and Dennis watched until he thought it was safe to give it back.

"Which parts?" she asked. His lips moved a little, and she wasn't sure what expression he was making for his gaze was still on the screen.

"There's a part coming up," he said, nodding to the screen. Casey hadn't been watching, and a sudden cackling sound made her jump. A woman laughed on the screen, surrounded by green smoke and Casey watched as she transformed into a dragon.

"This is a kid's movie?" she asked a bit stunned, surprised she didn't remember this, and Dennis shrugged again.

"The scene will be over soon." He nodded toward the scene again as the prince slayed the dragon, and Casey was struck by a thought, realizing this would be where Dennis gave the movie back to Hedwig. She watched him, as surreptitiously as possible, as he watched the movie. His eyes flipped over the screen as the prince was reunited with his princess, almost as if he was studying what was happening, confirming Casey's theory.

"You've never seen the ending, have you?" she asked quietly as the last song began to play.

"Hedwig likes that part," Dennis answered simply, glancing at her. Their gazes met and Casey stared at him a blank moment before making a rash decision and climbed off of the couch. She crossed to the bookshelf of DVD's, neatly arranged.

"What other endings haven't you seen?" she asked, eyes switching over the movies. When he didn't answer she looked back at him expectantly.
He frowned. "Well. All of them."

Casey turned back to the children's movies, picking one at random.

"Well alright then."

Dennis sat there, still, eyes on the screen as the movie played and Casey got comfortable on her end of the couch.

They were twenty minutes into Robin Hood when Casey went to make popcorn, knowing Jade had snuck some into the apartment. She carried the bowl back to the living room. Dennis glanced at her, no doubt curious where she had gone, when his gaze zeroed in on the bowl.

She settled down and she saw the exact moment the kernels came into view. His brow darkened and Casey set the bowl in her lap.

"I'll be careful." she promised.

His fingers drummed twice on the arm of the couch. He brought his gaze up from the popcorn long enough to look at her, then he breathed out a long sigh and turned his face back to the screen.

Casey had almost finished the bowl when she saw the first signs of him relaxing. He sat a little deeper into the couch, his legs spreading as his arms settled over his chest, pulling the material tight against his arms.

Casey's mouth warmed at the difference, and she looked back at the movie before he could sense her gaze.

She was unprepared for the wave of emotion that hit her as the movie ended. Pieces of warm memory surfaced as the song played, sitting with her father, giggling as he bounced her on his knee in time to the music.

Dennis heard quiet sniffling and his head turned sharply in surprise. The light from the television played on Casey's face, highlighting tears. But she didn't look as if she was frightened or in pain. She looked almost happy.

She caught his gaze and looked away embarrassed. She swiped at the tears.

"It's stupid," she muttered, with a tight half laugh, "just reminded me of someone."

"Someone good?" It wasn't a warm tone, but it was a quiet one, as if he knew far too well how easy it was to be reminded of someone bad.

"Yeah," Casey whispered shakily, before wiping away the last tears and standing. She knelt in front of the DVD player, removing the movie as awkward silence settled around them. As she clicked it back into its case, Dennis cleared his throat.

"The Jungle Book."

"What?" Casey said, standing, and Dennis shrugged easily,

"I've never seen the end of 'The Jungle Book." he stated, and Casey stared at him a half moment before shaking herself and crossing to the bookshelf. She slipped Robin Hood back into the place she had found it, and located the other movie.

"The Jungle Book," she muttered, staring at the case, "I don't know if I've seen this one."

She popped it in and sat back on the couch, not tucked in her corner, but sitting upright in her seat.

They watched in silence, when Casey cocked her head at the snake on the screen.

"Why do I know that voice?" she muttered, half to herself.

"It's the same voice actor as Winnie the Pooh." Dennis supplied easily, and a burst of her incredulous laughter shocked them both. It died out quickly, Dennis staring at her as if she had gone mad, and Casey shook her head, not sure if she could explain how ridiculous it had been hearing that sentence come out of his mouth.

Halfway through the movie Dennis let his head fall back against the couch. Casey wondered if she was boring him, and almost scoffed because how could she not be. He was an adult man stuck watching Disney movies. But when she glanced at him, he was still watching the screen through half hooded eyes.

When the movie ended Dennis stood. "I have some work to do," he said, not looking at her. Casey just blinked for a few moments.

"Okay," she said pointlessly to the empty room, for Dennis had already walked away.

Chapter Text

Some time later Dennis found her in the bedroom. He held a notebook in his hand and looked at her expectantly.

"I need to ask you some questions."

He turned before she could answer and walked out, leaving Casey to roll her eyes as she climbed off the bed because he was just assuming she would follow.

He set up in the kitchen, motioning for her to take a seat as he laid the notebook on the counter and carefully uncapped his pen.

"Full name?"

Casey blinked, "uh, Casey Cooke."

His pen moved on the paper, "Address?"

When Casey didn't answer, he looked at her impatiently.

"Why?" She was gripped in an odd stubbornness and attempted to stare him down.

He sighed and set his pen down, folding his arms, one shoulder dropping slightly as he rolled into an annoyed stance. He reminded her of the way Hedwig behaved with his wanna-be-gangster attitude. She realized that maybe Hedwig wasn't trying to act like that at all. Maybe Hedwig was trying to act like Dennis. She could see how Dennis's rough voice and tough stance would look to a nine year old.

For the second time Casey found herself on the brink of hysterical laughter and she choked it back, wondering if she truly was losing her mind.

Dennis gave in. "The others can't ask you because the beast will think they're trying to help you get out. I can." Now that he was certain the other weren't going to lurch into the light and accidentally let the beast see what he was doing, Dennis was free to look into this situation. 

And he was going to sort this out. 

Casey swallowed, going solemn at the reminder. She rattled off her address on instinct, realizing too late it was her old one, her uncle's house, and her hand shot out in a blind panic, snatching his pen.

He froze, his gaze slowly raising from the notebook to look at her, empty hand still poised to write without a pen.

Casey found herself blushing furiously at his look.

"I, I just, I don't live there anymore."

Dennis stared at her. For what felt like a very long time, he stared with blank eyes and too even expression. Then he calmly held out his hand. Mutely she retuned his pen, noting he took it without touching her, and his gaze returned to the notebook.

"Address." He repeated, and Casey intently listed off the apartment she rented now.

He frowned, but Casey didn't know why.

He asked her about how and when she was taken, writing notes without any reaction.

Then he set his pen down. He had not found any missing persons reports on Casey. Dennis had thought perhaps she had simply been taken from outside the parameters he had checked, but the address she gave was in town. In fact the girl lived a few blocks down from the store where they worked. She would have come up when he searched for missing girls in the area, but she hadn't.

"What family do you have?"

"None," She answered a fraction too quickly, and Dennis kept his gaze on the notebook, mind working.

"Boyfriend? Friends?"

He could see her shake her head out of the corner of his eye.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"You haven't been reported missing, Casey."

She made a sound, like a strangled scoff, and Dennis's head came up. She didn't look surprised, almost as if the fact held a sick humor, and she shrugged when she noticed his gaze, trying to smooth her expression.

"No one to miss me, I guess." She quipped, but there was something in her eye Dennis did not like.

"Casey..." He began, but stopped, uncertain of what he could even ask. Then he sighed, "Is there anything I should take care of. Rent? Contacting work?"

Casey shook her head. Her rent was paid til the end of the month, and she was certain that not showing up this long meant she no longer had a job. She wasn't too upset about it. She lived sparingly enough to have some savings and she hadn't enjoyed it anyway. She could find something else when she got out of here.

It should have disturbed her, how casually she dismissed her life outside of this place, but part of her didn't even notice.

"Do you know why he took you?"

From what little Dennis had gathered, he knew the beast could borrow light from the other alters to keep an eye on them, but they could see nothing when it had the light, and none of them had any idea why Casey had been brought here.

She looked offended, "Why would I know that, Dennis."

Dennis sighed again. Gathering up his notebook, he left the room without saying anything else, and Casey sat awhile longer, staring at patterns she imagined in the counter.

She didn't see him again for the rest of the evening. She went to bed early, still feeling a little weak from being sick, and woke to the sound of the shower running the next morning. She wondered who was in there getting ready for work, before remembering the others would be staying away now.

She dozed lightly as the shower shut off and the bathroom door opened.

To her ever great surprise, Hedwig bounded out.

"Hiya Casey! Did you miss me?"

He leaped onto the bed, still wet, his hold on the towel slipping.

"Woah, Hedwig, towel!" Casey's hands covered her eyes as the boy bounced a few more times before suddenly stilling.

"Well, isn't this interesting."

Casey dropped her hands and glared at Barry's smirking face.

"This so isn't funny," she told him, her face heating even as she tried to fight a smile.

His smirk turned downright wicked and Casey felt her heart flip a little at the look in his eyes.

"Oh I think it is, sweetgirl." He pounced on her suddenly, Casey shrieking with laughter as he began to tickle her.

Before that moment she hadn't even known she was ticklish, but now she writhed beneath his fingers, begging him to stop.

"No, stop, EEK, Barry you're wet!"

She squealed as drops of water landed against her, and Barry's laugh rumbled out of him.

He ended up there beside her, pressed slightly against her, arm draped over her waist, towel thankfully still around his own.

Drops of water beaded on his lashes and Casey was breathless a moment just by the joy in his eyes. It amazed her how utterly and completely the face before her was Barry. It was warm and open, and softening before her eyes. He was propped on his elbow, and his hand left her waist as his finger raised to trace her cheek. She missed the warmth on her stomach.

"Oh Caseygirl," he sighed, "it does this heart good to hear you laugh."

Casey's heart constricted at the weight of care in his words.

Her eyes searched his, "Are you.." she trailed off, wanting to know if he was alone, if the beast was listening. He winced a little and shook his head.

He surprised her then. Pressing forward he laid his forehead against her own, his eyes closing as he sighed, as if he was desperate for closeness.

Her hands had come up automatically when he moved, and had connected with his bare chest as he hovered over her. She felt the droplets of water slip over her fingers, the muscles beneath her touch shifting as he breathed.

"Um, Barry?" she said softly.

"Hmm, yes babygirl?"

"...you're naked."

He opened his eyes then, and his brow waggled against hers as his lips grinned just above hers.

"I know," he practically purred, and Casey would be lying if she didn't feel his voice move something inside of her.

She swatted him away, laughing as he rolled off of her. He sent her a devilish wink before retreating to the bathroom to dress.

Dennis stepped out some minutes later, dressed in Barry's clothes and without his glasses, but she knew instinctively it was him. Her cheeks flamed with how close she had been to that body not five minutes before.

She stared at the wide, tall shoulder, tense but strong. He looked so much bigger than the others. So much more intimidating. Powerful.

She got the strangest felling at times that Barry, like Hedwig, didn't know the full strength of the body they were held in. Barry at times seemed almost too small. He enjoyed having that body, she saw it in the way he dressed, the way he smirked at her in a way so overly flirtatious it was laughable to them both. It was Barry's body when he moved, when he held her so gently, but Casey couldn't help but wonder if there was space between their fingertips, an edge to him that Barry shrunk back from, unable to reach. This body held strength, power. The beast stretched it into something unnatural, too big for it, hurting its frame by just filling it. She remembered the blood from the torn flesh of his mouth. But Dennis stood in an easy command of the body he was in, filling out the shoulders, squaring them back, hardening the muscles of his chest. He looked as if he was made to fit this body, control it, use it. She wondered for one ridiculous moment what he would feel like, if it would feel different beneath her hands than Barry, than Hedwig or the others.

"I'm sorry about Hedwig," he spoke evenly, "I was talking with Barry and he slipped into the light."

Casey shook her head, "No it was good seeing him, both of them."

Her cheeks heated further and Dennis looked away, clearing his throat. He crossed the room and exited without speaking further, and Casey watched him go.

She spent the day as busy as she could be. Washing her clothing, going through Barry's, wishing he had more clothing in normal colors. She rearranged his drawers, not that he would notice. She cleaned the apartment, pointless with Dennis around, the place was spotless, but she needed something to do. She was going stir crazy. She had spent so much time trapped in this place, she began to think she would never see the sun again.

The windows were barred, not uncommon in this neighborhood, meant to keep the unsavories out. Safety that worked all too well in keeping people in. 

 They had kept the curtains drawn. Maybe it was how they always lived, afraid of the neighbours spotting the strange way they lived their lives. Maybe it was because of her. They didn't want the beast to think she was trying to be seen, trying to alert the police to come find her.  

But no one was looking her for. Work would have noticed her absence first, but they had such a high turnover they would probably think she had just stopped showing up. If she showed her face through the glass no one would care, let alone report her to the police so they could fight through the beast to get her out. Drag her free of here just to deposit her at her uncle's feet. 

She shivered, trying to turn her thoughts away. Her uncle hadn't reported her missing, and it twisted a little. She wanted to think he was just worried what she would say if he sent the police to find her. That he knew she was gone but was too concerned to come after her. But that was a pathetic laugh. He had always threatened that she could never disappear. Everytime she had run away when she was younger he had found her, pulled her back with sick, over the top relief for all to see. When she had become an adult the idea teased that maybe now Casey could get away.

Her own apartment, her own life. Free.

But she had known it wasn't true. Her uncle usually let her alone for some weeks at a time. But he always came by. Eventually he would show up to her empty apartment looking for her. Just checking in. Just a reminder that she was still under his 'care.'

What would he do then, when he finally stopped by and found her missing? Go to the police and beg them to find her, the epitome of faux paternal concern?

She stared at a window, deliberating, watching the light fill in around the edge of the curtains. Was it worth the risk? Being seen so when he did beg the police to find her, someone might notice her enough to know where to look?

It was ludicous. She should be scratching at the bars, screaming for the neighbors to help her, free her from the beast that loomed over her and the two dozen alters that cared. She should be desperate to get out. But there was a thought, call it logic, call it fear. Maybe it was a logic only a life of fear could know. But the truth was, the beast keeping her in, was the only guarunteed way of keeping her uncle out. 

She was safe here, protected. Until she wasn't. Until the clock counted down and the beast made his mark. 

Waiting was always the hardest part. She could live her life for weeks, content, independant. Alone. Then the spare key would turn in the lock. Didn't matter how many times she changed it. He always got another from her. Her uncle would drag his boots across her life. And the countdown would restart. 

The sick truth was Casey's life hadn't really changed. Being taken had just replaced a monster for a beast. The only difference was here, in this bizarely organized place, Casey wasn't always so alone. 

She stared at the barred window between her and the sky.

And then she decided that she just didn't care anymore. Casey crossed to it, opening it so eagerly her hands shook. She peered out cautiously at first, but when she saw no one she practically climbed onto the sill, hands latched around the bars. Like a child peering through a cage at the lions in the zoo. Content just to watch. To imagine. She stayed that way, breathing in the air, feeling it, not caring it was cold, that only a patch of sky shown between her window and the building next door. Casey could see the sky again.

She stayed until she heard the front door swing open.

She hurriedly climbed down and shut the window, crossing to the living room. Even if no one was looking she would never let the beast catch her like that. 

Dennis was by the door, removing his shoes, placing them by the mat. He straightened when he saw her.

"Barry bought you something." He held out the small bag with the name of the store they worked at emblazoned on the side.

"And you let him?" Casey quipped without thinking, coming forward to take the bag, knowing how strict Dennis was about the budget. He blinked and looked away. For a second Casey wondered if she had offended him.

"He says he hopes you like it." He repeated the message obediently, and moved passed her, careful space in-between, no doubt to go change out of Barry's clothes.

Casey tore into the bag. Her hands encountered soft material and she shook it out, hardly noticing when the bag fluttered to the floor.

It was a nightgown, a deep red and incredibly soft. It wasn't skimpy, but her face still heated at the thought of Barry buying her something like this and Dennis carrying it home to her. There was a note stuck inside.

"I saw this and thought of you, beautiful, modest, soft. Don't be afraid to wear it, babygirl. You deserve something nice."

She heard a sigh behind her as Dennis reappeared and bent to collect the discarded bag. As he straightened his eyes landed on the garment she held and he froze.

Casey resisted the ridiculous urge to hide it behind her back.

"He couldn't have just gotten me some sweatpants." She tried to say it lightly, but her voice shook with embarrassment.

Dennis swallowed, his gaze still not having left the nightgown.

"He shouldn't have done that." he stated evenly.

"I, I know," Casey stammered, "you can take it back." She held it out to him but he jerked away from it. His gaze locked on hers and Casey felt a sharp type of panic at the look in his eye.

There was something boiling behind his gaze, something molten and angry and Casey unconsciously took a tiny step back.

He scowled. "Keep it. Barry wanted you to have it."

She was still trembling when he walked away.

Dennis shut the office door behind him, crossing to his desk. Barry had had a meeting at work today that he had skipped out on, and Dennis was writing him notes of what they had discussed. He wrote, staring at the page, his left hand hanging at his side, fisting and unfisting in a slow rhythm.

Halfway though he dropped the pencil. He rubbed his fists across his eyes, standing to pace agitatedly before sitting back down. But he was up a moment later.

He needed to calm down. But all he saw was red. Soft, flowing red in Casey's hands, a gift from Barry, intimate and bare.

Dennis bit back a groan, cutting it into a harsh grunt.

He shouldn't be here, so often, with her. It was distracting him. Sitting for hours in the semidark, movies flashing, feeling her watch him watch them, as if she was afraid of what he was going to do.

He had come into the light after Barry this morning, and felt his heart still pounding, face still stretched with a smile, heard Barry's lingering thought of Casey. It was a flash, a moment Barry hadn't meant to share, pressed above her, her hands against his chest.

He growled, deep in his throat, pushing the image away. He wasn't here to care about what Casey did with Barry or anyone else. He was here to stop the beast.

He tried to return to his work, but his mind was far too agitated. He felt Hedwig in the back, trying to come out. He wanted to see Casey. He had seen a dog during the few minutes he had been out today and he wanted to tell her about it.

Dennis gritted his teeth, closing his eyes. Maybe it would be wise to step back for a few moments, to regain control. Briefly he made Hedwig promise to get him if the beast came close, and after the boy's repeated promise that he would, Dennis blinked out of the light.

Chapter Text

Casey was sitting on her bed, still feeling the soft material of the nightgown when her door opened. She hardly had time to react before Hedwig bounded in.

"Hey!" She was genuinely happy to see him, and more than a little surprised.

"Heya Casey. Guess what I saw today!"

Casey listened as Hedwig launched into a dramatic recounting of the dog he had seen, and she laughed at his easy excitement.

He hopped abruptly off of the bed, "Hey, you wanna play tag?"

Casey perked up. As insane as it sounded, she had so much frustrating energy that running through the house after Hedwig sounded like a great plan.

"Sure! I'm it!"

Hedwig's eyes widened and he dashed out of the door, leaving Casey to chase after him.

They made it into the living room, circling the couch a few times. Hedwig kept laughing so much he almost ran into things, making Casey laugh so hard she almost fell over.

He darted for the kitchen and she sprinted after him, hand out-stretched, almost reaching him, when Hedwig stopped too quickly in place and turned.

She smacked into him, about to ask him what he was doing when hands gripped her waist in a painful vice.

She felt the hiss of breath, the tremors and cracks as he changed and Casey's eyes turned upward as if pulled by force to stare into the face of the beast.

She saw the blood from his mouth and anger flashed that he had cut through the little boy's body to be here. Hedwig didn't deserve that. None of them did.

"They've been keeping you from me..." he growled, shoulders moving as he panted in air. Casey shook, trying to look brave anyway.

"What do you mean."

His hands tightened further and Casey couldn't hold back the gasp of pain.

"I... am coming for you. There is no escape."

"w-w-when?" Casey gasped, unable to look away from the black anger in his eyes as the beast's face leaned into hers.

"Soooon." The word trembled into her.

Before she could react the beast lurched, growling fiercely. Its hands locked around her, dragging her down as it crumbled. She was tangled against it, struggling to move, to breathe as it twisted and lurched before falling deathly still, body crushing her beneath it.

Then with a jerk its chest expanded with air and she felt hands, rough but gentler now, pushing her out from under him.

He groaned as his body fell back onto the ground, and he shook in a way that terrified her.

"Casey. I'm sorry. Casey. I shouldn't have-"

He groaned when Casey touched him, as she pulled on his arm, trying to get him up. She didn't want to process what had just happened. She focused on the weakened state of him now.

"Come on, Dennis. You need to rest."

He was a dead weight, and she tried to tug him up.

"Dennis the floor is dirty," she snapped and she heard him grunt, heard him mutter something that sounded like an eyeroll as he got his hands under him.

He staggered up, exhausted and in obvious pain, and Casey pressed herself against his side, his crutch as they shuffled toward the bedroom. He half fell into the bed, his face darkening as he cursed himself for being so weak.

Casey helped him lie back, her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled the blankets over him, saw his head sink into the pillow. Her entire body was shaking by the time she had him safely in. Weak with her own fear, Casey climbed onto the bed beside him. He didn't move as she slipped closer. She was too afraid to leave him, too afraid to be alone. She settled just against him, and counted her breaths as he slept.

Dennis woke slowly, groaning into consciousness as the dark of sleep pulled on his mind like sludge. He was in his bed. There was warm beside him. Casey was stretched, a light weight against his side. Her head just barely rested on his arm, but her hand had closed around his fingers that lay between then. He blinked, trying to remember what had happened.

"Dennis?" There came a whisper at his side, a soft breath of relief and Casey pushed herself up as he blinked. "Is that you?

His eyes found her face. It was pale and wane, her eyes reddened with the remnant of tears. He remembered her burst of laughter while watching that movie, the way her eyes had sparkled before they had met his own and the light died.

She never looked happy with him.

He never gave her any reason to be.

"What happened?" Dennis asked, pressing up on his elbows. Casey's hands went to his chest, as if to keep him from rising, and Dennis stilled, staring at them there as she answered.

"Hedwig and I were playing, but then, the beast, he..."

Dennis closed his eyes, groaning. He'd given Hedwig the light. The beast had taken over.

Hedwig's panicked screeches had reached him almost too late. The beast had been almost fully formed by the time Dennis had reached for the light. Dennis fell back, remembering the feeling of fighting the beast's hold on the light. It was like tearing through a layer of his body, skin and blood ripped away as he grated against the beast, vying for the light. He almost hadn't managed it.

Casey's gasped as Dennis collapsed back beneath her hands, his body beginning to convulse.

"Dennis?" She heard the panicky breath in her voice, "Dennis!"

She gripped his shoulders, not having any idea what to do, almost sobbing with relief when his body calmed. She fell forward, her head landing in the small dib in his chest, buried into his neck. His breath evened out, the chest rising and falling beneath her. Casey curled against him, tears falling into him, listening to him breathe. He had stopped the beast and she swore it had almost killed him. Guilt passed dimly in the back of her mind, knowing how negatively Dennis reacted to her touch. The little voice growing stronger until Casey forced herself to straighten and back away.

It wasn't fair to him, when he was weak and sleeping, to curl against his body just because she needed to feel his strength. Needed to feel the proof that he was okay, that the beast had been pushed back. She stretched out beside him, careful to keep a sliver of distance between, her eyes locked on the rhythm of his chest as he slept.

Hunger pushed her from her place some time later, and Casey padded softly to the kitchen. She fixed herself a quick sandwich, throwing together whatever she found onto some bread.

It eased the pang, and Casey began constructing another. She laid the meat and cheese symmetrically on the bread, cutting it in an even line, not wanting to stress Dennis any more than his body already was.

She carried the plate back to the room, pushing the door gently open. She started when she saw Dennis was sitting up, feet hanging off of the bed, preparing to stand.

Setting the plate down on the end table, Casey came forward, slipping against him as he stood, steadying him.

He blinked heavily down at her like he wasn't sure how he had gotten there, his arms hanging by his sides.

"You shouldn't be up," Casey tried to sound stern, but her voice was light as she stared up at him. Exhaustion was etched into every feature, deepening them, shading them grey.

"I need to shower." He spoke normally, but Casey felt him sway and she used her body to guide him back to sit on the edge of the bed.

"No, you can't."

"I need to wash it off of me." Dennis muttered, darkly, and a spark flashed in his eye, like desperate anger. Casey shivered at the sight of him slowly returning in strength.

"After you shower will you sleep?" Casey asked. His face was blank as he nodded.

Biting her lip, Casey moved back, letting him stand. He swayed, but waved her off roughly, and Casey followed just beside as he crossed to the bathroom.

Briefly she wondered what she had any hope of doing if he fell. Too well she remembered the weight of that body crushing her, and she shuddered.

He stepped in the bathroom, standing in the middle of the floor. Casey stepped around him to turn on the water, letting the shower heat, pretending not to notice the way his hands fumbled with the button of his shirt.

They slipped clumsily, completely lacking their normal dexterity and she watched his hands fall to his sides. His face turned skyward and he breathed out a long, frustrated puff of breath.

Casey crossed the small room, filled with the sound of falling water, covering the silence between. She stepped in front of Dennis, her gaze traveling over his face, his eyes closed as his jaw worked, as if trying to hold back anger he was too weak to do anything with.

She pretended not to notice her fingers were trembling as Casey gently reached forward, finding the button at his throat.

He jerked slightly at her touch, his hands coming out to steady himself, gripping the only thing close to him. She tried to ignore the way his fingers closed around her arms, wrapping the back of each elbow, almost like it was him steadying her.

She felt unsteady. Her eyes fixed on the button in front of her until her fingers had freed it and she lowered them simply to the next one. His hands moved with her arms, not releasing them.

He seemed trapped, frozen in widening uncertainty as her hands moved down his shirt. She stared at each button, gaze not moving until it was free and she could look to the next.

Her fingers found the last, and she watched her hands part the grey fabric, press against the neat white undershirt beneath. They traced upward, pushing the over shirt open, lost in the simple movement. There were tremors beneath her fingertips. She worried he was growing too weak to stand.

Her hands reached his chest and they widened, pushing the shirt towards his shoulders.

His fingers tightened slightly on her arms, steadying himself as Casey pushed the shirt over his shoulders, her fingers brushing bare skin at the edge of his undershirt.

She heard his sharp intake of breath, made the mistake of glancing up. His gaze was fixed on her, frozen and intent, wide with something Casey didn't understand.

Her body stepped closer, his fingers flexing on her arms as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her hands tracing the line of his biceps, trailing against his skin.

"Casey," he whispered, sounding slightly strangled as Casey stepped nearer so she could pull the shirt further down.

"Casey, stop." It was desperate, and Casey looked up as something cold filled her. She took in his expression, lit with panicked desperation, and Casey felt her stomach drop.

"I was just trying to help," she whispered thickly, clasping her hands to herself, "I didn't mean to touch you. I shouldn't have."

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed gruffly, but when she tried to step back, he hadn't let her go. He was staring at the floor between them, as if he was trying to summon the strength for the simple action of releasing her arms. Casey drew in a breath, forcing away embarrassment, she tried to be honest. She didn't know what had come over her.

"You're right. I know you don't want me touch-"

His hands seized on her arms, his head whipping up to stare at her with something dark raging inside, like fire burning so hot it was black.

"You don't know what I want." he growled, and Casey's stomach flipped at the sound. He was moving, pushing her backward until her back met the wall beside the shower and he nearly pressed against her.

"The others, they hate me for what I want, how I want."

He trembled above her, part of her thinking he was out of control, but knowing inside of her that control was the only thing holding him back.

Dennis was raging, black desire slamming against the reason in his mind. He was weak, so disgustingly weak and his control was slipping, dangerously slipping. Her hands against him, her body so close, it seared deep into his mind and he was caught in the memory like a downward spiral.

"I. am not. Barry." He bit the words at her, hands shaking her arms slightly with each word as if trying to force her to understand. "You don't touch me like you touch him."

She couldn't tell what it was, a warning? A demand? He broke back from her suddenly, harsh anger melding with the steel in his eye, and Casey shivered as the air that had been compressed from between them suddenly rushed back.

"Get out."

Dennis watched Casey blink, pressing back into the wall as if she could disappear. He didn't have the energy to warn her again. He turned his back, listening to her retreat from the room, feeling his walls slip back into place.

Chapter Text

Barry could feel Dennis in the back of his mind growing more annoyed as he waved to his coworkers and prepared to leave work. He had been asked yesterday to take a short shift today so they could train someone in the afternoon, and he had forgotten to mention it. Dennis didn't like their schedule being distrubed. Barry whistled lightly, smiling as he held the door for a few older women before heading across the parking lot to his car. Dennis could wait. He had promised Hedwig he would share the light on the ride home and the boy felt so horrible about what had happened with Casey that he wanted to give him some happy moments.

He winced as he got in the car, recalling Hedwig's retelling of the beast taking over him, and a gusty sigh dropped from his chest. It was a beautiful day, just past noon, and he would love nothing more than to go home and sketch with Casey. But if Hedwig's experience made anything clear, it was that she wasn't safe from the beast with anyone of them except Dennis, and he wasn't sure Casey was entirely safe with him either.

Dennis caught a tinge of his thoughts and Barry felt him stiffen, but Hedwig came bounding up a moment later, and Barry ignored the stern alter.

He drove home, focusing on the familiar route, listening to Hedwig's rapid fire commentary on everything they saw. The boy faded out after a bit, distracted, and Barry felt Dennis stretch, growing impatient.

Barry pulled into his parking spot, and threw the car in park.

"Alright fine, you oaf. What do you want." he demanded, focusing on the alter in his mind.

Dennis was silent for a dense second, and Barry seriously had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the larger man.

Casey isn't comfortable.

Barry snorted, -Of course she isn't. When she's not putting up with the beast she has to put up with you.-

Dennis didn't even react to his needling, something Barry was entirely used to, to the point he didn't even notice it anymore and he sighed, -you can't be mean to her and expect her to like you-

Dennis frowned at that. I don't expect her to like me.

Barry did roll his eyes then, wondering why Dennis even wanted to have this conversation. He reached for the door handle. -Let me go check on her-

Dennis was suddenly towering above Barry, stretched to his full height, and Barry stumbled back a little -Back up you troll. Do you behave like this with her? No wonder Casey doesn't like you.-

The beast could easily over power you, Barry.

-I know, I know- Barry waved Dennis off, -I just want to see how she's doing-

Barry felt Dennis shift, amazed to sense that it was almost as if Dennis understood. He squinted at the larger alter, cringing a little at the drab grey pants, the black long sleeved t-shirt that covered almost every inch of skin. An idea suddenly struck, -I'll share the light-

Dennis cocked a brow

-No really, it's perfect. You can keep the beast at bay and if he comes prowling I'll just skedaddle.-

Dennis was staring at him, blinking through those straight, boring glasses that Barry rather secretly hated. Must the man have zero sense of how to look? He felt hesitation, knew Dennis had never tag teamed the light before, but Barry did it often enough with the others he thought it would be a breeze.

Dennis sighed, his arms settling over his chest.

We'll try it. For a while. But if the beast tries anything-

Barry threw his hands up in quick surrender -I'm gone.-

Casey stood in front of the mirror, trying to force herself to open her eyes. She had spent the night on the couch, not seen Dennis since he had finished his shower and collapsed back into bed. He had left without waking her this morning. She had passed most of her morning by the window, listening to the wind move, returning to the bed room on a whim.

It was early, not even one, and Dennis would not be home for hours. With a shaky breath, Casey opened her eyes.

Light poured in from the frosted bathroom window, warming the deep red of the soft material against her skin. Inch wide straps lay across her shoulders, a modest bodice that fit her a little too well and her cheeks stained red at the thought of how well Barry had guessed her chest size. It was light and soft against her, ending across her thighs and Casey resisted the urge to tug it down lower. No one was here. There was no reason to feel so exposed.

But Casey couldn't help it.

The straps weren't wide enough to cover the neat rows of pink against her shoulder.

They peaked out against the hem of the nightgown, laced down her thigh.

The nightgown covered the worst of them, and if she squinted just slightly, her reflection blurred enough that she couldn't see them at all. Until it wasn't her in that reflection at all, just a girl, a normal girl in a nightgown, shivering though she wasn't cold.

With a sigh Casey wrapped her arms around herself, crossing slowly into the bedroom to change.

The sudden sound of a door shutting caused adrenaline to spike through her heart.

"Baby girl, I'm hoooome," Barry's voice floated down the hall, coming closer and Casey spun, her hands fumbling for her clothes in a panic. Why was he here? He shouldn't be home yet!

She heard him just outside the door, the handle turned. "No, wait!" She sounded as panicked as she felt and he paused,

"Casey? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Casey was shrugging into a grey button up, looking for anything to cover herself with.

"Casey," the door rattled a little, the voice, still Barry's, held an edge she'd never heard before. "answer me or I'm coming in."

Casey couldn't find her voice. Panic, wild and irrational had choked her and she stumbled back as the door swung open.

For one agonizing moment she thought it was Dennis who stood there, the gruff lines of concern were too rough for Barry's face, but then he smiled.

"Doll, oh that is just stunning on you!" He came forward, his wide grin easing the clench around Casey's heart, "I don't know why you're trying to cover it up with that drab thing of Dennis's."

Barry had known what that nightgown would do for her figure the instant he had seen it. Why on earth did they think he had gotten it? It curved over perfect milky skin, and left his mouth a little bit dry. He only wished she hadn't tried to hide it beneath one of Dennis's drab grey button downs.

Casey saw him cough and he seemed to wince. "Easy, you caveman," he muttered under his breath.

Casey's eyes narrowed, "Who are you talking to?"

Barry was distracted by the energy pulsing off of Dennis in the shared cramped space of his mind. He'd almost forced Barry out of the way entirely when they heard Casey's panic, but seeing her had done something else to the man entirely.

At first he had thought Dennis had been angry, so volatile was his reaction to seeing his dress shirt hanging off of her shoulders, thin red material clinging to her beneath. But it only took a moment of Dennis struggling to regain control for Barry to realize and he felt a flash of irritation rise.

"Barry!" Casey snapped at him, waiting for him to answer, and he sighed.

"It's Dennis. He's here. We're sharing the light right now, doll," he reached to lay his hands on her shoulders and she jerked back.

"Don't"

Don't

Her own words echoed with Dennis's command in his mind, and Barry blinked at both of them.

"Why."

she doesn't like it when I touch her

"He doesn't like it when he has to touch me."

Casey watched Barry's face as it screwed up in a sort of incredulous shock, then he patted her shoulder lightly.

"Why don't you get changed into something you're comfortable with us seeing you in, and meet me in the living room."

He turned and walked out the door. The instant the door swung shut he was railing into Dennis

-you stupid, idiotic moron-

Dennis's jaw tightened, and he looked away, I haven't done anything

Barry missed the way his tone had darkened with self-disgusted embarrassment that Barry had witnessed that. Like he needed another reason to have the alters hate him. He knew what he wanted was wrong. He knew she was Barry's and the other alter was probably furious with him, but he was still trying to swallow down the picture of her in his mind, the wide, vulnerable light in her eyes, soft and full. He felt guilt for charging in, catching her that way when she obviously hadn't wanted to be seen. He was angry that the image had been burned into his mind, certain to torment him later.

-you better not have. you touch her and I swear I'll-

Barry cut off as Dennis stood there, arms folded and silent, not having to interrupt. They both knew Barry couldn't do a thing to him. He and the other alters had forced Dennis out once, but it had taken all of them. With the beast loose they couldn't afford to have him gone.

Barry stalked to the living room, flopping down on the couch, ignoring Dennis's discomfort when he kicked his feet up on the coffee table. He remembered very quickly why no one ever tag-teamed with Dennis. He was a major headache, not to mention an idiotic kill joy.

Casey came out slowly, eyeing him warily, dressed in her normal sweatpants. Barry felt Dennis count the four different layers of shirts peeking out beneath her sweatshirt, and Barry frowned, worried the girl would sweat to death.

she always dresses like that

Barry scowled at Dennis's reminder and held his arm out to Casey, scooching down to make room on the couch. Casey hesitated.

"Is Dennis still here?"

"Oh, let me worry about him," Barry waved his hand at her, trying very hard to keep his tone light.

"I don't want to make him uncomfortable," Casey murmured, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve.

Barry rolled his eyes, and reached out to tug her down next to him. He felt Dennis stiffen in shock, and half anger.

-oh lighten up- Barry hissed at him -she likes when I touch her-.

Casey was blinking at him, tense, and Barry fixed her with a look.

"Babygirl, I am not gonna waste the time I have with you with you looking at me like that." He reached out and squeezed her hip, knowing it was a ticklish spot, and she jumped, letting out a little squeak, "now relax,"

She still looked pensive, and Barry reached for her again. Casey squirmed away from his hands, laughing despite herself at the devilish gleam in his eye.

"Alright, alright," she slapped his hands away, "Stop and I will."

He stopped trying to tickle her, but reached out and tugged her against his side instead. He felt Dennis retreat a little in his mind, as if trying to give Casey space and he grunted a surprised thanks.

Casey settled against Barry, turning into him, and caught a whiff of his cologne. It was so entirely Barry that she felt herself relaxing almost completely.

Barry flipped the tv on, scanning until he found a movie he liked playing. Casey huffed against him, and he practically felt her roll her eyes.

"Legally blonde, again? Really?"

Barry poked her hip and she squeaked. "Yes, now don't hate."

He settled back, glad Casey was more at ease. The beast had been such a constant strain against his consciousness that having Dennis's stoic presence was a relief, even if he could be overbearing. He did not like the dark feeling of the beast always lurking just behind, an impenetrable shadow. Barry was no stranger to sharing the light, but the beast didn't share. It stole. Glimpses and moments without ever letting anyone see in to what it wanted, what it needed. None of them had any idea why the beast had even taken Casey to begin with.

In a deep, secret way that shamed him, Barry was almost relieved. He didn't think he could bear hearing or seeing what the beast had planned in his mind.  Barry hadn't been made for darkness, and he wasn't strong enough to live without light.

"I'm sorry for walking in on you," Barry said after a few minutes of silence, "we were concerned."

He felt Casey sigh against him, "I know. I didn't mean to over react, I just... got embarrassed I guess."

He felt Dennis shift uneasily, her reaction was far too intense for simple embarrassment, but Barry let it slide.

"You looked positively gorgeous." He watched amused as her cheeks heated.

"Oh, shut up and watch your movie."

Barry laughed, feeling his stress melt away as he pulled her tighter against him.

The movie was ending its credits when Casey peaked up at Barry, trying to catch sight of Dennis in the expression, but not seeing it anywhere. She wondered if he was still there, listening, if he could feel her leaning against Barry. If it made him uncomfortable. She knew what it was like to not want to be touched, and to have people never understand.

They thought she was rude. Cold. A prude. Hid every piece of skin every way she could.

Her fingers traced across Barry's forearm, against the material of his shirt and she knew instinctively that Dennis had been the one to dress that morning.

Memories of undoing a shirt much like this one flamed into her mind and Casey's cheeks burned. Barry caught the look and wondered at it, but didn't ask.

The movie ended but Barry didn't move. She went to reach for the remote, but he tightened his hold.

"Just stay? I don't know how much longer I have in the light."

Casey felt tears prick at the simple statement and burrowed closer against him. His arms moved, cradling her, moving her half into his lap as if wanting to feel her closer and she gasped.

"Are you sure this is ok with him?" Casey whispered against his shoulder, craving his warmth but worried about upsetting Dennis.

Barry felt Dennis move uncomfortably and a scoffed a little, "he'll get over it."

He held her close a few quiet moments, before he moved his attention to the alter in the back, -give me a minute with her-

Dennis frowned, not liking it.

-just a few seconds then you can have the light-

Dennis ground out a sigh, you have thirty seconds

Barry felt him wink out of the light and tightened his hold

He hadn't understood, hadn't had a single waking clue what had been going on while he and the others kept away, but he'd seen enough between the two to know that he had to do something before one of them snapped and killed the other one. They were both so wary of the other they were liable to start walking into walls. Now that he had felt Dennis's reaction to her, he was more than a little concerned.

"Casey,"

"hmm?" she hummed, a bit drowsy with warm contentment.

"I gotta go, love. but be careful with Dennis. Don't let him do anything you don't want him to."

Casey stiffened at the warning, but Barry knew Dennis would be taking the light back by force in about 5 seconds. He pressed a quick kiss to her hair, and backed out of the light.

Chapter Text

Dennis blinked into the light and swallowed a curse. She was curled against his chest as he sat rigidly in the position Barry had left him in. He had thought Barry would really have enough sense by now to move before giving him back the light, but the feel of Casey crashed over him and he sighed.

"Dennis?" It was as if all she needed was that one sigh to know it was him. He wasn't aware she had felt the change in almost every part of him. Her head came up, off of his chest, freeing it of its tight, restrictive hold and he sucked in a breath laced with a type of pain. "How are you feeling?"

His hand went to her elbow, helping her shift off him as she moved. When she was settled back onto the cushion, Barry's advice rang in her ear. She didn't understand why Barry had said that, wasn't sure what the alter was seeing that she had missed.

Dennis leaned forward, retrieving his glasses from the coffee table and slipped them on before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Better," he answered simply, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, "I apologize for earlier," he stated, though Barry had already apologized, and Casey looked at him confused.

"Your bedroom," Dennis reminded simply, and watched her cheeks flame.

"I never should have put it on. I really should get Barry to take it back. I just..." she trailed off, "Wanted to know what it felt like," she whispered.

Dennis didn't move. "Did you like it?" It seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to say, but Casey felt tears threaten and wanted to scream.

This wasn't her. She didn't want it to be, the frightened mess that cried constantly. But every time she thought she had found a balance here, something knocked loose again. "I just shouldn't have put it on."

Dennis watched her draw into herself, legs up, arms around them, and wondered if she even knew she was doing it. She seemed drawn into a dark hold of sadness and he frowned, uncertain of what to do.

Barry could make her smile in a heartbeat, pull her out of her situation and make her laugh. Dennis just seemed to make it worse.

She shook herself, her hand reached out as if without thinking and settled on his arm, "I'm glad you're feeling better," she smiled a bit shakily at him, and Dennis blinked at her, his gaze dropping to her hand.

She saw it and went to draw back.

"No," Dennis's voice stopped her, "You don't have to, I'm not," frustration was evident in his tone, "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Casey's answer was immediate, and Dennis looked at her. She coloured slightly, "I was, maybe, at times. But I just wasn't expecting... you."

The way she said it, like he was an unstable force one just had to prepare for. He made a hard noise in the back of his throat and looked away.

Casey studied him, his profile as he stared at a spot above the tv. Words came to mind, his own, broken and a little desperate, 'They hate me for what I want, how I want' Compassion welled within her.

The others, so many of them had relied so heavily on his strength, used it, but didn't like it when it showed up in ways they weren't expecting. The immensity of his emotion fueled that strength, though he kept it under careful lock and key because when it stirred it frightened them. He was stiff and exacting because he knew it was the only way to stay stable, and she wondered what it was like to live under the constant threat of one thing being out of place because you knew it could be enough to send you into someplace dark.

She wondered, then, if Dennis had secrets, if Dennis had scars. What his numb control had cost him, because it always had a cost. Casey's body was a road map of the price of facing darkness and never being able to fully escape.

She lived on her own for a year now, but her uncle would always have a key to her place.

For 'protection.' 'Just in case'

Just in case he was drunk enough not to care that she had grown out of the little girl he liked. Just not drunk enough to pass out.

Casey choked on a sob. How strange that it had taken coming here, getting kidnapped by a monster, to find kindness. To find someone who cared. They all did, most of them anyway, in their own ways. Barry, Hedwig, Jade, sometimes even Patricia.

And Dennis, who they had only allowed back into the light so they could use his strength, was doing everything he could to keep her safe, even though she did not deserve it, even though he didn't care.

"Casey," Dennis was frowning at her in concern as she choked on her tears, gagging at the feeling twisting inside of her. The one she kept down, the one she pretended wasn't watching her from a dark, cold corner. The one that knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would always be a polluted, twisted thing that could never find warmth because she didn't deserve it.

She had put on that nightgown in some childish attempt to feel beautiful, and all she had seen were her scars.

She was gasping, spiraling, and she felt hands on her shoulders, gripping her.

"Casey, you need to calm down, you're going to make yourself sick."

She wanted, just for once, for the pain to go away, to forget, to believe for one second that it was a lie. That she could get out. All those times Barry had gathered her to him, not even knowing what he was trying to keep out, assuming she shook because of the beast that was coming and not the one she already knew, and she had prayed his arms would be enough to shut out the world.

"Casey!" Dennis shook her, trying to force her to breathe, to break whatever hold had her so tightly she cried in anguish. He was afraid of the pain in her eye, afraid of the memories stirring to life, afraid that her fear came from a hurt far deeper than they had suspected.

The beast had stopped the others from asking anything about this girl. Any inquiry to her life outside this place held the potential threat of planned escape, and they couldn't risk it. It worried Dennis, how easily Casey accepted the necessary silence. Like she didn't want to talk about it even if she could.

She fell a little and he caught her, there, against him, hands going to her back, tightening as she shook. His heart was thudding heavily and he could hear it in his ears, pounding with the shaky sound of her breaths. Her hands fisted against him, into his shirt, clinging to him, and Dennis let his arms tighten, let her crawl into him and he fell back into the couch, groaning as she buried her head in his neck and cried.

Something in him broke through. Some worn, forgotten piece of him and he held her against him, stubbornly, determinedly, wishing he could take her pain. Wishing that he could stand between her and it and let it break him down. She cried and Dennis knew, he knew that this had to end. She couldn't stay here, trapped in this place just waiting for the beast to come for her. The others couldn't keep tripping out of the light, terrified the beast would rip into their place.

She needed to get out, she needed to be free, and he was the only one that could end it.

Dennis didn't rock her in his arms, didn't shush her quietly or murmur against her hair like Barry had done. His arms locked, hard and unbreakable in place. His chest rose and fell with intentional evenness beneath her and Casey locked on to the sound. She counted his breaths when her own were too broken to find. She curled into his strength and she felt the hold, the tight frantic grip of ice around her begin to loosen. The black faded into a place out of reach, and Casey sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling life touch her lungs.

Her cries fell away, drained and unsustainable. The panic eased into exhaustion. There, locked in warmth and strength and solid protection, Casey fell asleep, and for the first time she could remember, Casey didn't dream.

She woke to the world shifting beneath her, and found Dennis laying her on her bed. She caught his arm in the shaded dark as he went to stand.

"I don't want to be alone."

Dennis held in silence for a full minute. "I can get Barry back."

"No, no we need you to stay."

She felt his surprise.

"Why." His tone held an odd sound.

"The beast doesn't watch you," she whispered.

Dennis was silent, eyes carefully blank, mind working. "They... need me," he muttered, as if the words were foreign, impossible.

The way he said it.

Casey wanted to cry. He was a man so desperate to just be needed, as if the thought of anything beyond that was simply too unobtainable. All he had been made for, lived for, was being a necessity. He was dark and unstable, and he knew it. Tainted by other's rage, by taking their pain. All those years he was holding back a terrible darkness. Using all of his strength to protect all of them, and they hated him for it.

There was a sharp sound as his breath left him, then very carefully Dennis settled beside her.

They weren't touching, and Casey reached out, her fingers finding his shirt and she latched on.

"Is this okay?" she whispered.

Dennis nodded thickly, "Yes," and he heard her sigh.

He stared, blinking at the ceiling, feeling her breath move, ignoring the way his heart beat just slightly too fast. Her hand rested against his hip, clutched in his shirt, looking for some connection.

His body was at war with his mind.

He wanted this, to reach for her in the dark and pull her against him, to have her in his arms and have her know it was him she clung to. He wanted to feel her.

But he knew he shouldn't. He knew that he shouldn't and he hoped that would be enough to stop him.

She shifted, her hand falling from his shirt a moment before she mumbled in her sleep, her fingers searching for warmth again. They slipped beneath the hem of his undershirt, and skated across his skin.

Dennis sucked in a breath, cursing softly.

She trembled slightly, rolling closer, brow furrowing and her eyes darted as she dreamed. He watched her face in the cover of shadows, watched her tongue touch her lips, her breathe out a soft moan, before she tossed slightly beside him, blinking awake a quiet moment.

Casey squinted at the dark, her heart beating heavier with images from a dream that was already fading. She felt her hand cross heat. She warmed, registering the feel of taut skin beneath her fingers and they moved, snaking higher.

She heard his quiet grunt of surprise, saw his eyes, shadows in the dark, widen slightly.

"Is this okay?" she whispered, covered with an overwhelming urge to feel him solid and real beside her. To know his strength lay beneath her fingertips, ready and obtainable. He nodded, just barely in the dark, and Casey curled closer.

Her hand traveled up the lines of his stomach, smoothing over the hardness of his chest, lost in their own path. She pushed herself up, her breath passing against his neck, and he stiffened.

"Stop." he panted, and Casey froze, "I can't-" he broke off, sounding as if he was in pain, and she drew back sharply.

"Dennis?" she whispered in concern.

His hands rose to rake across the skin of his head, trying to drive out the sound of his name falling as a quiet whisper from her lips. He couldn't do this. He couldn't be here like this and not want, not need to touch her, to trace heat across her with his fingertips, to hear her gasp against his skin. The memory of every touch blazoned through his mind, every accidental moment she lay against him, unaware of who she held, and he selfishly, desperately, clung to the moments when her hands had reached and known who they were finding. When she had rested her forehead against his as chaos reigned around them. When her fingers touched his arm, when her hands traced his chest as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders, so gently, so carefully, like she cared.

Like he mattered.

Like he was more than a wall of steel.

But in the back of his mind he knew how foolish he was being, how stupidly weak it was to let thoughts, hopes like that form.

She wouldn't gasp softly beneath his touch, she wouldn't let his hands trail over every feature.

That was soft and full of everything Dennis knew better than to want. and for a moment his mind turned to the places he could push her, wild and uncontrolled. She could love Barry, giving with aching softness, Dennis would let her rail against him, taking every piece of him and leaving nothing in return.

"I have to go." The words came out too fast, too unsteady, his hands shaking as he sucked in a slow breath, hearing it catch in his chest as he sat up swiftly, moving to the edge of the bed.

"Dennis, what's wrong?"

He heard the wariness, the uncertain edge and he could feel her pulling away, like she should. He focused on his breathing, trying to calm, his head falling into his hands. He tried to chase away the feeling, the memory of her curling against him, desperate for touch, for comfort. She hadn't cared it was him she was touching.

Casey slipped towards the edge of the bed and padded quietly around to where Dennis sat, concern cinching her stomach. She didn't know what the beast had done to him, worried he was not as better as he claimed to be.

"Dennis?"

He jerked, head coming up to see her standing right beside him.

"Are you ok?"

He stood suddenly, crossing the room, gripping the door and swinging it open. He stopped, long enough to take a breath, to straighten, "Get some sleep."

Then he was gone.

Chapter Text

Casey awoke slowly, blinking, her eyes taking a moment to focus on the figure standing by her bed.

"You were dreamin," he muttered as Casey pressed up to look at him. His face was so stern, so wary, and something unexpectedly tender filled her at the familiarity of his hard expression.

"Was I?" she whispered, in all honesty having no memory of her dreams. From Dennis's expression though, she imagined it wasn't a good one. Dennis looked away.

"You said my name."

Casey felt her cheeks flush, but he continued.

"You were scared and you said my name." He turned dark eyes back on to her. "Do I hurt you, in your dreams, do I scare you?"

He looked so certain he already knew the answer, was steeling himself up for her to admit it, but Casey shook her head.

"No, Dennis, of course not." She pushed herself fully up. "I have bad dreams sometimes, but they're never about you. I, I was," she flushed, "I was probably looking for you," she answered softly.

As a child she would wake screaming for her father, and it only enraged her uncle further, but she couldn't stop her dreams, couldn't stop the way she cried for someone to come, like she never dared to when she was awake.

She hadn't cried out for anyone in a while, but Barry had told her a few times that she had started asking for him in her sleep. He had said it with a cocky, infuriating smile, and Casey had laughed it off. Now she felt embarrassed, wondering how Dennis would respond to knowing she was trying to reach him in her sleep.

"What does frighten you."

Casey ducked her head, feeling the weight of his stare.

"The beast," she said after the barest pause, and she heard him sigh.

"I think you're lying, Casey."

He had awoken just before dawn to the sound of his name, full of terror, her thrashing, desperate cries. She had calmed even as he reached the room, but her terror had stayed with him, layered on top of other reactions he had witnessed, when something in her eye was just a little bit off, like she was afraid if it shifted it would reveal a dark secret behind.

He knew the others hadn't noticed. Even the more observant alters, Patricia, Orwell, were distracted by the threat of the beast. They had kept her here to pacify the beast without having time to wonder why she was not fighting to get back home.

"Why would I lie," she huffed, sounding annoyed.

"I think you're scared of something else."

Casey flinched at the reasonable statement, and felt her ears burn in embarrassed anger.

"It's none of your business," she snapped, yet couldn't stop herself from hoping he wouldn't get angry, wanting to push him away but too frightened that he would leave.

He sighed, "you're not safe here, Casey. I need to know you'll be safe if you leave."

Casey couldn't answer that, and the moments stretched on in silence when Casey's stomach growled.

"I'm going to make breakfast!" she quipped, sliding from the bed and dashing from the room before he could ask her anything else.

Casey heard the water kick on as she stood over the stove, assuming he was in the shower. She hummed to distract her thoughts, flipping the eggs.

She was setting two plates onto the counter when Dennis appeared. He was neatly dressed, pausing when he saw her, blinking as she sent him an intentionally pleasant look as if nothing had happened.

She didn't realize it was the closest she had ever come to smiling at him.

Dennis shook himself. Going forward he accepted his food with a quiet grunt of thanks. He began eating, watching his plate.

Casey stared as Dennis ate, his entire focus on his plate, and she took a little step back, feeling foolish for, well, she didn't know what. He stopped, looking up.

"I'm being rude," he stated. Laying his fork down, he straightened. "I apologize. Would you like to eat with me?"

Casey found herself frustrated at the simple question, and ducked her head, "is that okay?"

Dennis moved in response, slipping off of the stool he moved his plate, fork, and napkin down the counter, and motioned for Casey to take a seat. She felt silly taking his seat but was too shy to protest. The moment she sat down she realized the coffee was probably done and went to rise.

Dennis waved her back.

Casey sat, not eating, watching as he circled the small counter. He selected two mugs from the cabinet, inspected them quickly, before setting them on the counter by the coffee. She watched his hands, intrigued as he straightened each cup so that the handles were in line. He crossed to the fridge, selecting the creamer some of the other alters used, and Casey wondered when Dennis had noticed how she liked her coffee. She knew for certain he drank it black because Barry had complained about it, calling it neanderthalic. Casey wasn't sure that that was a word, but it had made her laugh.

Now as she studied Dennis, the careful but easy way he moved, she couldn't help thinking Barry's description of him was plain laughable. There was nothing crude or unevolved about Dennis.

He set her mug down in front of her, and Casey's hands slipped around it, enjoying the warmth as she watched Dennis return to his plate.

He only looked at her long enough to look at her untouched food in question, and Casey obediently picked up her fork, as they ate their breakfast in a semi comfortable silence.

It was as if they had formed some uncertain truce of friendship, and Casey was at a complete loss of what to do.

Casey's mind was racing, as she hopped up to help him with the dishes, but she quickly realized his system left no room for additional helping hands, leaving Casey standing awkwardly by the sink before she gave up and retreated to her room.

She showered, quickly, not wanting to miss saying goodbye to him before he left for work, and pretending that wasn't why. She dressed, pulling on most of her own clothes. She had reached such a comfortable level of ease with the other alters, and now found herself wondering if she could have that with Dennis. If they really could be friends. She had toweled as much moisture out of her hair as she could, and was listening for the sound of the door, hoping Dennis wouldn't just leave, but half expecting him to.

Finally cleanly presentable, Casey slipped out into the quiet hall. She heard the office door swing closed and turned towards it as Dennis slipped out.

He paused when he saw her, a frown fixed more firmly than normal in place.

''Is everything okay?" Casey asked, and he rolled a shoulder.

"There was a gas leak at the department store that caused some damage. They will be closed a few days for repairs."

"So... you're not going to work?" Casey tried to squelch the something rising in her chest.

"It would seem not." Dennis stated evenly.

They stared at each other a moment, thoughts locked behind shy eyes, before the silence got to Casey and she was speaking before she thought,

"Since you'll be home, do you maybe want to watch something?"

Dennis's expression didn't change, but his body shifted, "I have some things to do." he answered evenly, "but afterwards, I can do that."

It was on the tip of Casey's tongue to ask if he wanted to, but she quickly decided to accept the answer she had gotten and she turned away, "ok, I'll see you when you're done, I guess."

Casey stayed in her room, trying to read a book, pretending she didn't tense every time she heard Dennis pass in the hall, hoping he would knock. She told herself she wasn't nervous. That there was no reason to be and she was being childish, but that didn't calm the nerves in her stomach.

After an hour or two, Casey gave up reading with a huff and ventured from her room. The faint smell of bleach hit her and she half smiled. She should have figured one of Dennis's things to do was clean an already spotless apartment.

She heard Dennis exiting the office and turned to face him, stopping a little in surprise. He had removed his outer shirt while cleaning, and had stopped outside the office door. His white tank top was stretched across his chest and she watched the muscles of his arm move easily as he shrugged into his shirt. He caught her gaze, and his eyes held her.

He didn't smirk, flash her an exaggeratedly confident smile like Barry would have. His eyes didn't light with a teasing glint. He just simply held her gaze as he straightened and buttoned each button in a smooth, easy pattern. Something warm hit Casey. It was a such a simple moment and she didn't know why it was so comforting to watch. He flicked his sleeve down on each wrist, fastening the small button, eyes still quietly fixed an her, and it was like she suddenly couldn't even remember what it was like to be afraid. It felt like the quiet moment of a normal life and Casey let herself believe for a half a moment that this was all there is.

Him getting ready, her waiting to spend his day off watching movies and relaxing. Like those Saturday morning she used to pretend she could have, that she could find a time in her life that time at home wasn't something to be carefully limited.

He didn't seem to mind her staring. The other alters would have said something by now, broken the silence, jokingly asked if she liked what she saw. It amazed her, sometimes. Barry made half suggestive comments often, but always with such a ridiculously teasing air that she never considered for one moment he meant any of them. He was a lively, physical man, and she suspected he enjoyed making her blush. She knew Jade did, thought it was hilarious to talk about things that turned the heat in Casey's cheeks sky high.

He came towards her, eyes slipping over her face a moment, before stopping just before reaching her.

He didn't speak, and Casey shifted in the silence.

"Are you done? With what you needed to do?"

He watched her a moment, and she swore in that moment he looked almost disappointed, before he nodded. "Yes."

Dennis followed her, his mind still working over what had been eating at him all morning. No amount of scrubbing had eased his thoughts. There was something Casey was not telling them, and he needed to know what it was.

She led the way to the living room, crossing to the bookshelf of movies. She tried to ignore the way Dennis stopped just inside of the room, standing tall and a bit too stiffly.

"What do you wanna watch?" Casey flashed him a half hopeful look, but he just shrugged a small amount.

She didn't want to make him sit through another Disney movie. Barry's shelf was full of romantic comedies, Orwell had a line of documentaries, Jade had a section of horror that Casey didn't even bother looking at. Patricia' shelf always surprised her, there was a smattering of documentaries mixed with period pieces with stern looking characters in grey cloaks and a handful of old comedies.

"Well what kind of movies do you watch?" Casey asked, frowning at the shelf. He didn't answer, and she glanced over her shoulder at him in question.

"I don't watch movies." He finally answered at her look, "unless Hedwig needs me to."

"Oh," Casey sighed, "Well we could do something else. What do you do for fun?"

He glanced away a moment, and shifted, and Casey tried another question, "Well is there something you do that relaxes you?"

"Clean." It was an honest answer and Dennis watched Casey frown. He bit back a sigh, feeling more useless by the second. He wasn't someone people spent time with, or did things with. He existed for a purpose. Order and protection. If he wasn't doing that he wasn't usually given the light. The longest he ever held it before was at work and he handed it off as soon as the shift ended. These past couple of days had almost been too much time to handle.

Casey was looking for hobbies he didn't have, and Dennis bit back a scowl. It had been foolish of him to think that he could do this, spend time with her in any normal way. He had ruined her attempt at a decent breakfast this morning and now he was screwing this up.

Casey surprised him then by suddenly smiling.

He stood, blinking at her, feeling it hit him.

"I have an idea." She said it more like a question but she crossed to the couch and settled down, grabbing the remote she clicked on the tv.

"Are you coming?" she said without turning around, and Dennis made himself move forward.

She waited until he was situated on the other end of the couch, before holding up the remote.

"I'll flip through channels. You tell me when to stop."

Dennis blinked at her through his glasses and Casey ignored his nonreaction. She would lose any ounce of courage and disappear into her room if she let herself think about any of this and she was determined not to do that.

She clicked the remote, pausing a few seconds on each channel, checking Dennis's reaction no matter what the channel was. Talk shows. Cartoons. Infomercials. His expression didn't change, but he was watching the screen annalytically, like he was concentrating on getting this right and Casey stopped looking at the television all together and just watched him. His face never changed. His eyes would move at different things on the screen, but his expression never betrayed anything. Whether he simply had no opinion of what he saw or kept his reaction stoically masked, Casey didn't know.

She flipped the channel again and he blinked, "This is fine." he murmured softly, and Casey glanced at the tv.

"You like animals?" she asked, hearing the surprise in her own voice, as she saw the lions pacing on screen of the discovery channel.

He shrugged, "We can change it."

"No, I'm just... surprised." Casey set the remote down and swallowed, not quite looking at the screen. 

Casey wished she liked animals.

She knew from her uncle that her father used to take her hunting, but her memories of that time were oddly blank, shaded with a dark sense of cold.

Dennis's voice pulled her out of a looming feeling of dread, and she started. "We used to work at a zoo."

"Really?" Casey's voice was a little too high from the thoughts he had interrupted and he glanced at her without turning his head.

"Yes. Mostly maintenance. We didn't work with the animals but we were around them."

"Did you enjoy working there?" Casey asked, intrigued. She had never met anyone who had worked at a zoo. 

"It was interesting," he admitted softly

She found herself turning in her seat, studying Dennis intently. His eyes were roving the screen. He didn't look like he was enjoying it in any obvious way, but he had settled a little deeper into the couch. His arms had relaxed against his chest, more loosely crossed now, and Casey felt a half smile curl.

"Did they have lions there?" her voice was unnecessarily soft, but he blew out a little breath that almost sounded like the beginnings of a chuckle.

"Yes. Two of them. One was young."

Casey was soon relaxing into the cushions, not looking at screen, just quietly watching Dennis. He had to have been aware of her eyes but he never looked at her. Every few moments she would ask another question about his job, what it was like, and he would answer with simple, short sentences that inexplicably made Casey want to smile.

She got up to get a drink, he quietly shaking his head when she asked if he wanted anything.

He hadn't changed position when she returned, but hiding the deep breath she took, Casey settled much closer to him on the couch when she sat back down.

He stiffened, his gaze darting to where she sat just next to him, and Casey watched his arms move as his chest expanded with a deep breath. He released it, forcibly making his body relax.

She was quiet a few minutes, telling herself she was ridiculous for feeling this proud that she was successfully just sitting next to him. But a proud little hope was building in her. She had been terrified of him before, her only hope against the beast. But Dennis had successfully stopped the beast twice now, and the feeling of security was mingling with an odd sort of fondness beginning to form for this man with the impassive stare. It shouldn't really surprise her. She had taken to the other alters almost instantly, formed a connection with them she had never had with anyone else. But this was different, tenuous and strange. Her eyes were on the coffee table, and she glanced up at the screen, about to ask another question, when the image on the television jolted into her.

She didn't know what it was about it, it was an innocent scene, a herd of deer in the wood, but something black bit at her insides and before she knew it, she had flinched into Dennis's side.

"Casey?" 

She could feel him staring at her, his voice clipped with surprise, and she grimaced, embarrassed.

"Are you okay?" he pressed when she didn't respond, and Casey forced herself to peek up at him. He was leaned slightly into her, peering down at her over the shoulder she had half buried beneath. His blue eyes piercing behind his glasses, filled with such a quiet depth of concern that Casey felt her breath hitch in her chest.

That feeling came over her again, as if life wasn't meant to be more than this. Quiet. Unafraid.

She smiled, embarrassed, "Sorry, sometimes animals scare me."

He frowned, his face darkening and Casey gave a small gasp when he shifted, his arms unfolded as he turned towards her. Gaze half angry and searing into hers, he pressed over her, his arm reaching behind her, fingers closing around the remote.

He clicked the tv off, only moving back a fraction. His hand settled on the cushion in front of where Casey had curled into herself. He was still hovering, around her, over her, and he fixed her with a dark look that made Casey press back into the couch.

"Why didn't you say something." His voice was laced with stern disapproval, and Casey swallowed,

"It was stupid. I didn't want to interrupt what you were watching."

"It's not stupid." His gaze dared her to refute it, "You can tell me when you're afraid."

She knew from the depth of his tone that he meant it about more than just what was on the television. Casey was shocked when tears pricked in her eyes. She was angry and confused because they did not belong there. Not when there was this much warmth filling her.

"I'm not afraid." she whispered honestly, not knowing why her voice shook. Without thinking, she raised a hand slowly, gently, and let her fingers trace the slight hollow of his cheek.

His eyes widened with his quick inhalation of breath, be he turned as if he couldn't stop himself into the touch. She traced the line of his jaw, her fingers curling and she let her knuckles brush across his lips.

She reasoned that she often touched the others, that this was no different. But she knew better, the pounding in her heart knew something was shifting inside of her.

His eyes fluttered closed, a soft warm breath passing over her fingers as he went completely still and Casey pressed up, letting her other hand feel him. He stayed fixed above her, turned into her as her fingers followed the dip in his brow, brushed across the place his pulse thudded in the hollow of his throat. He was still, quiet, letting her touch him, trace gentle patterns on his skin and Casey marveled at how still he could be when she had seen him, gripped in a raging energy and barely in control.

She realized with a startling amount of clarity that she wanted to kiss him. It was a desire that flew from somewhere completely unexpected and hit her so abruptly she was almost overwhelmed. If she thought, considered, she would never have even begun. But Casey's breath hitched.

She had almost built up the courage, to close that final distance, to feel his lips again with hers, when he winced.

"Are you alright?" she whispered, and he sighed.

"It's Barry. He's at the back, says the beast has backed off for now, and he wants to share the light."

Casey swallowed, feeling guilty for the flash of disappointment that hit her.

"Oh, okay." she said, dropping her hands.

Dennis blinked, and in a moment, he was sitting back, gaping at her.

Chapter Text

"Okaaaaay. What exactly did I just interrupt."

Casey stared at Barry. His cheeks where high with heat, and he looked more than a little flustered.

"What? Nothing?" Casey shook her head, thrown off by his unusual bad humor.

Barry frowned at the girl in front of him, half tempted to smack the alter that had stepped just out of the light. He could feel his pulse racing against his skin, the heat still flooding where it shouldn't be.

"What was he doing, babygirl."

He watched Casey blink at him, those wide, doe eyes filled with flustered confusion, and Barry bit back a curse.

"I told you not to touch her, you sick-"

"Barry!" Casey's shocked interruption clued Barry in that he had been speaking out loud, but part of him didn't care. So what if he wasn't the strong one, the protector. This sweet girl was his friend, and he cared about her more than he'd ever thought he would find and he would do anything to keep her safe. It ate away at his soul knowing that the beast was coming for her, and there was nothing he could do but he would be dammed if he let Dennis lay a hand on this girl.

He could feel Dennis in the back, silent but tensing and he didn't care.

"I know we need him to stop the beast, but you don't have to be close to him, you don't have to let him near you."

"No, Barry, you're wrong about Dennis. He wouldn't hurt me."

She looked so tiny and angry and Barry's heart broke, "Oh sweet girl, you don't understand. You don't know what he's capable of."

Casey didn't like what curled inside at those words. She knew Barry would not lie to her. His face screwed up and he growled out a frustrated groan, "I thought I would have longer. I have to go. Be careful, doll."

He kissed her cheek and was gone, leaving Casey blinking at Dennis.

She couldn't pull away from Barry's warning, and a sudden burst of bravery pushed a question from her lips.

"What happened a year ago?"

"What do you mean?" There was a low warning in his voice, but Casey didn't care.

"Barry said you got into trouble with some teens at work." She pressed, trying to remember everything Barry had said when he had first told her about Dennis, wanting to understand.

"It was just a prank," he rumbled, not looking at her, "kids being stupid."

"It had to have been more than that," she insisted, staring at his profile. She watched his breath begin to form a panicked rhythm. "What did they do?"

Dennis sat, glowering at the blank tv. He didn't want to even acknowledge the question, let alone answer it. The others used to say talking helped. They would pull out their memories and line them up with words neatly on top, like the darkness was just something you could dust off, like the past was a crooked painting you could straighten.

Dennis didn't like talking. He didn't like her question. Stoically he ignored it.

...Just like Casey ignored him when he asked why she was afraid.

He groaned, head falling into his hands, fingertips pressing into his scalp.

He didn't want to answer. But maybe he had to. If he wasn't willing to be honest how could he ever expect her to be.

Casey thought he wouldn't answer. It seemed he had all but forgotten she was there.

"They touched me," his sudden voice was brittle, tight and controlled, "Where I didn't want to be touched."

His words were completely unexpected, and Casey felt her heart tear, felt pain well against the jagged edge.

"Took my hands," he continued, staring at his own two hands like they were something evil. "Made me touch them," he winced, dropping his hands in disgust, caught in memory, speaking now as if without realizing.

"I didn't want it to happen," he murmured, his hands scraping his head, trying to erase it, "s-someone saw. I got, I got fired. They others, they thought I, they didn't believe that they..."

"They said it was your fault." Casey's whisper passed through the empty space between them and his head came up, staring forward, as if afraid to look at her.

He swallowed, "yeah," he muttered, rubbing at a spot on one of his hands.

He growled, a harsh ripping sound, his fists thudding into his head as if he was trying to force the memories out. It reminded her of the night when Dennis had fallen to the floor and screamed full of something Casey couldn't fathom.

She rose from the couch and stared at his silhouette, shoulders taught, curved the slightest amount as if they struggled against a pressing weight. Even as he was, elbows leaning heavily on his thighs, fingers gripping his head, she was aware of the strength this man held, the lines of his arms that pressed against the material of his shirt. Strength that was warring against brokenness and she was overwhelmed with a need to help him, somehow.

Casey knelt before him, staring up at him.

"Dennis?"

The quiet voice was right in front of him, and Dennis jerked, opening his eyes.

"Are you ok?"

Dennis forced his gaze from the soft light in her eyes. "I'm fine."

His tone was devoid of emotion and Casey frowned, not knowing what to do. Everything inside of her wanted to reach for him, but she hesitated.

Dennis glared at her, hating the way she looked at him, concern, compassion, like warmth he shouldn't want, shouldn't need. He growled against the dark thoughts raging that wanted to brand himself with the heat of her skin, knowing it would cauterize the dark, cover scars that had been ripped open in the black. The memory of her touch minutes before traced a yearning fire over his skin and he stared at her, part of him hoping she would run.

Casey didn't move, she stayed half kneeling, a foot away, watching him with those eyes and Dennis groaned.

His hands rubbed against his thighs, in obvious agitation. "I am trying to be good."

Casey swallowed, pressing closer. "I don't understand." Her hands reached for his own, paused, hovered a breath away from his thighs.

"Casey," there was a dangerously unsteady edge to his voice and something inside of her curled up and heated at the sound, "don't push me." "Please." It was an added gasp, and Casey's heart began to pound.

"Push you how?" she whispered, hardly recognized her voice.

"I'm not good, Casey," his words were low, broken in her ear, "I want" he ground the word out and it moved into her.

He drew back, a space away from her, and she recognized that he was trying to warn her, to frighten her off and Casey trembled, not completely understanding, but knowing she did not want him pulling away.

"What do you want?" she whispered.

Casey counted the heart beats, the breaths of perfect stillness he held unmoving above her. Before very slowly he lowered his head, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, like she had done the first day he fought the beast, desperate for the connection.

"Casey," a whisper above her lips. Casey felt it tremble through her as her hands settled onto his legs. Something was coming over her, a warm, light calm that had her floating above the dark. Everything, every dark and terrible thing seemed to fade from her skin replaced by a simple touch.

Dennis was shaking his head, his forehead turning softly on her own and Casey's head tilted up, her lips brushing his as they passed.

He jerked in surprise, tremors beginning to pass through him as his breath hitched in his chest. Casey was locked in place as nerves coiled in her stomach.

"Why did you do that." His voice, her eyes closed at the sound, so rough, and a little bit dark, a little too controlled.

"You make me feel safe.' Casey whispered honestly. She felt him move as he swallowed.

"I'm not Barry." Dennis forced the words out, knowing the reminder would break whatever spell had come over Casey and bring her back to reality. She couldn't be here like this, with him. She couldn't want to-  she couldn't have- the memory of her lips ghosting across his replayed again in his mind.

Casey had kissed him.

"I know you're not," Casey's hands tightened against him, her voice sounding angry.

She squeezed her eyes shut as hot, embarrassed tears fell. She couldn't believe she was doing this, practically desperate for the touch of a man who wanted nothing to do with her. But he had held her terror back and made her feel for that brief time that she could be herself again. Like there was something left under all the layers. And he had been hurt. He had pain etched inside and every piece of Casey wanted to find a way to wipe it away.

"I want to hold you, Dennis. I, I want you to hold me." Her voice wavered and she hated that she was begging, begging stone to care. Her life had been a mangled shadow before she had ever been locked into this place. Now she was surrounded by fear and kindness, and a man of revolving identities each tasked with keeping her from the light.

To protect her, yes, to keep the beast at bay, but Casey wanted to feel. She wanted her blood to pound from something that wasn't fear. She wanted whispers of something other than thin red lines to press into her skin.

She wanted his strength and his silence and his tenuous control and it killed her to ask, but she was too desperate not to try, not to let a tiny sliver of hope burn a little too much. Hope that he would want it too. Hope that she could offer something, even something small, to take away the pain. Hope that she could help him.

He hadn't moved, he had gone impossibly still and Casey felt cold curl into her.

'Casey..." it was a sigh, a warning, an incredulous question, and she felt the brush of his fingertips on her neck.

"Casey,' he whispered again, fingers tightening, and Casey shivered as the heat from his fingers spread through her. He pulled her closer, held a heartbeat from his lips, and Casey looked up into his eyes.

They were burning, raging and she felt they were on a precipice, the final edge of his control, and Casey swallowed.

"Please," she whispered.

It passed over him, that soft, tremulous sound, And Dennis's hold slipped. With a deep groan he brought her to him, tasting her, feeling her pressed and breathing against him. Her quiet sigh at the edge of the kiss spread fire into his soul. He felt the heat raging, to grip her body and take every inch, pressing desire from deep inside, but he shoved it forcibly away. Her touch was too soft to break from, the sound of her breath too perfect to mar with frantic gasps.

He wanted this, this perfect edge of silence, broken only by her breath, rising and falling like peace.

She felt his hands slip down her arms, gripping her elbows and pulling her up until she stood against his body, standing between his knees. His head tilted back to keep their claim on her lips and something woke within Casey

This large, powerful man was pressed beneath her hands as she stood over him. He had to reach up for her, and she let her hands travel over his shoulders, her arms settled around him as she pulled him closer.

All her life she had felt so small, so powerless, easily swept away with any touch of force. She had wanted, even needed Dennis's strength to sweep over her, but in this moment Casey felt tall. She felt strong and as his hands pressed into the small of her back, framing her with them. Casey smiled.

Dennis felt her arms slip around his neck, her lips move into an intoxicating smile, and he gathered her to him. His heart was pounding with the force of spreading warmth, not the desperate driving heat he feared would fill him, but something unlike anything Dennis had ever felt before.

He felt whole.

He got lost in the feel of her, in this moment. His hands slid over her waist, her shirts bunching beneath his hands. He gripped her hips as his thumb brushed against smooth skin.

Casey made a sudden, strangled sound, and stumbled back. She stood gaping at him, horror forming in her eyes and Dennis's heart cracked as black anger poured in.

He had frightened her. Pushed too hard. Began to lose control. Like he always did. Like he always would do. He shouldn't have, he shouldn't have... he stared at her, frantic mind spinning, body still filled with pounding heat, trying to find air to apologize. To resist the urge to tear into his hands and soak them in bleach for what they had done.

Casey drew in even breaths, her start of fear of feeling his fingers touch a scar fading as she watched his gaze dip into chaos.

"Dennis?" She took a step forward and he flinched back, eyes angry.

"Don't. I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't."

He shook his head, eyes wide behind his glasses, and Casey purposefully moved towards him.

"I'm not afraid of you." Casey said the words, to defy him, to remind herself it was true. She had seen the darkness inside, felt his hands rough against her, felt terror gripping her at the anger in his eyes. She knew what he fought to keep down.

And she wasn't afraid anymore.

Because she had seen the misunderstood strength that laced everything he did, the rigid way he lived his life between hard and rejected lines. He was built to take their pain without ever given a place to put it and it had turned and corroded inside. He was the price of their freedom. He was the scars of their past.

They didn't want him, hated and rejected the ugly rough lines, but Casey understood. Scars didn't have to mean failure. Scars didn't have to spell out pain. Sometimes they meant you had fought, maybe not against the world, but against the darkness. That you had fought to feel, to know that blood still ran because your heart still beat and no matter how much they took, they never took that. Scars meant that the bleeding always stops. Scars meant you were alive.

"You should be." Dennis's voice was a low threat, but Casey just shook her head. Reaching out, she settled her hand on his unflinching jaw.

"You're the only reason I'm safe."

He sat back, blinking away his scowl, frowning at a complete loss.

He didn't protest when Casey curled beside him, settling her hand on his arm, hardly touching. It wasn't too close, but in this shaken moment it was close enough for them both just to breathe and feel that slight connection. She clicked the tv back on, watching whales float across the screen, and settled next to his rigid warmth, calmly counting her breaths until he relaxed.

Chapter Text

Dennis stared at the computer screen before him, trying to focus. His mind kept turning, kept drifting, back to that moment and he forcibly pulled his thoughts back.

Casey had kissed him.

He had work to do.

Casey had kissed him.

He. had. work. to. do.

He had stepped away as Casey made some lunch for herself, and he frowned as he sorted through the results online. No new girls had been reported missing, but he had been able to find some things with the information Casey had given him before. An archived article about a car crash that had killed Casey's mother. Her father's obituary had been harder to find, a few sentences detailing his death by heart attack, that he was survived by a brother John and a daughter, Casey Cooke.

He stared at the name for a full minute.

He shook his head.

He reread the paragraph. Casey had said she had no family, but an uncle was listed here, her father's brother. Further searches did not pull anything up on the man, and Dennis sighed.

He clicked out of the browser and stood. He crossed the room and entered the hall, reaching the kitchen. He paused when he saw Casey, his feet stilling as if they had forgotten how to move. She was rinsing out a bowl in the sink, her hair half curtaining her face. Some frightfully gentle thing threatened to overtake him, and Dennis frowned, forcing it away.

This wasn't the time. There were things that required focus, situations to address that did not involve memories of an impossible moment he still was not entirely sure had actually happened.

She turned, blushing at her own obvious start of surprise when she saw him.

"Hey," her voice was light, and Dennis stared, his thoughts drifting on the warm current of her smile.

His brow tightened. "There's things we need to discuss," he said pragmatically.

He watched Casey turn scarlet, and wondered at it, refusing to let it distract him. "I've been trying to determine what to do about the beast."

Casey blinked, paling, that was not what she thought he was talking about. She set her bowl down nervously, "I thought you were keeping him back okay."

Dennis nodded once, seriously, "I am, but it's not a permanent solution and it doesn't allow you to leave."

Casey didn't respond to that. She just stared at the counter, a tiny frown between her brows.

"Don't you want to go home, Casey?"

He almost sounded annoyed, and Casey scowled, "If I try the beast comes out."

"That's not what I asked."

He sounded so reasonable, and Casey felt irritation rise. She had been doing the dishes, caught in a day dream, reliving every moment of his touch, the memory of a kiss that would forever live in her mind. Because despite everything, there was a part of her that was still innocent.

She had been touched and pulled and taken, but she had never given.

Until Dennis. She wondered if he knew he was the first man she had ever willingly kissed. The first one whose hands she had ever let feel her, touch her, pull something from deep within her that she still didn't understand.

She wondered if he knew he was a line Casey never thought she would be able to cross.

She wondered if he would care.

He was standing there, so unaffected, so calm, that unexpected hurt pooled in Casey.

"Casey?" he pressed when she didn't answer, and Casey frowned at him.

"That isn't really any of your business."

A sigh escaped before he straightened, "The beast put you in danger. Your safety is now my responsibility."

"You're not responsible for the beast's actions," Casey's reply lost some of its bluster at the solemn weight in his eye and she realized that Dennis really did hold himself responsible for anything the beast did.

He was the only one strong enough to stop him. The only one the others could blame if he failed.

He eyed her disapprovingly, "There's something you're not telling us."

Casey wanted to turn away from his eyes, drilling and stern. Part of her wondered why she couldn't just say it, admit it, ask for help.

But Casey couldn't do that. She couldn't say the words. Not because she couldn't find them. They were too available. Too neatly defined.

She had searched once, online, when she had grown just old enough to know something wasn't right, but not old enough to fully understand. She had found the right words. Definitions spelled out, cold and factual, neat rows of black on a back lit page.

They had lost all meaning.

Nothing that meant what had happened should be able to look so pristine, could be so easily defined. Casey needed a new word. One you weren't allowed to say, never type. Only written and immediately burned. Words not cheapened with perfectly executed definitions that put you in a categorized box.

Silence was the only way. Those actions belonged in the dark. Use words and the world would turn her into one of two things; a liar or a statistic.

"There's nothing to tell." Her shoulder rose in a disinterested shrug, the one that got her in trouble in high school as it spelled out casual disrespect.

Dennis did not react, and in some ways that was the cruelest reaction at all. He did not sigh, grow annoyed, or stare her down and demand answers. He just stayed, fixed and expressionless, before taking a tiny step back.

"Okay." An acknowledgment of her lie, not belief, and Casey felt guilt stir.

Just a few hours before she had badgered him into admitting his own dark secrets without respect for how difficult it must have been. He had told her. He had shared.

Why couldn't she.

But she knew why. Dennis was stronger. And Casey had always been weak. So weak that when he turned to walk away words stumbled out in desperation.

"W-wait. Don't go."

He turned carefully back around, waiting for her to speak again.

"Are you busy? Did you maybe want to do something?"

Dennis frowned at the cautious hope in her eye. He didn't know what to do. The more she denied the more obvious it became that something was hidden there. It was too easy to imagine the countless things it could be. Frustration mounted that he couldn't just get at the truth. He could not act without all of the facts. He could not plan. But she was still watching him, waiting for his answer, and Dennis found himself shaking his head.

"No," Casey's gaze fell before he finished, "No, I'm not busy."

She didn't stop. Dennis spent the afternoon in a wave of unsettled confusion. The others kept away, the beast never nearing the light. In a way it was a needed reprieve, but Dennis grew wary. He did not like not knowing where the beast was or what it had planned. He knew with the beast kept so far back, Casey was safe for now. But how long could they really keep doing this?

If the others didn't get enough time in the light, things could become chaotic. They were all trying, so hard, working together to keep Casey safe. But it wasn't sustainable.

In some ways Casey didn't seem the least bit interested in finding a solution, and Dennis wasn't sure how to handle that.

Casey moved around him, showing him things, asking him what he thought. She flipped through Barry's sketches, ones she had been shown several times, but Dennis had only ever seen when he was straightening up.

Dennis couldn't care less about the drawings, but his eyes couldn't stop tracing her expression as she looked at them, the way she smiled, half in amazement half in disbelief at some of the things Barry had designed. They were bright and very bold and he couldn't imagine her wearing a single one.

She met his gaze over the notebook and an image of her in the red nightgown flashed in his mind. His body heated and he saw the faint blush stain her cheeks as he stared. Everything within him wanted to reach across those drawings and pull her against him, but her reaction when his touch had turned too aggressive flared in his mind, and he jerked back, glancing away.

He turned sullen, but Casey wasn't fazed. She pulled him through a thousand different subjects, as if determined to find his interest in something but the only thing that held any interest for him was her. She would move away, getting something, putting it back, but always return, sitting just beside him, her arm brushing his, her warmth seeping into his own.

This time she returned with a box in her hand, one of Hedwig's games, and she opened it with a soft smile.

"I used to play this, with my dad." It was said so quietly, as if speaking too loudly would break the memory, then she glanced at him shyly.

"Would you... want to play?"

Dennis blinked at her slowly, the hopeful light in her eye, the self-conscious way her teeth pulled in her lower lip, and he found himself nodding without even looking at what the game even was.

It was Memory, and Casey laid out the cards. He noticed the way she set each down carefully, straightening each one. She glanced at him, smiling shyly, hopefully, and a soft sort of awe began to fill him when he realized it was for him. Casey didn't care if they lined up, but she took her time with each because she knew he did, and Dennis shifted, unfamiliar with this feeling. 

They played for some minutes, Dennis hardly able to focus on the cards as she peered over each, frowning when she turned over one that didn't match, her lips moving in a little huff as she turned the card back over.

He had an eidetic memory yet hadn't turned a single match but instead of frustration, he was rocked by a kind of warmth. She looked up at him after yet another mismatch on his part and frowned at him.

"You're letting me win." Her lips were a pout, and Dennis shook his head.

"You're distracting me."

Casey blushed at his answer. There was no flirtatious gleam to his eye, no devilish smile. He spoke it in quiet honesty, and Casey ducked her head to hide the heat in her cheeks.

They finished the game, and as Dennis carefully collected each card to put it away, Casey went to start dinner.

Her mind was spinning so much she was distracted and she opened the fridge three times before actually getting out the meat.

She dropped it on the counter and let her head fall back with a frustrated sigh.

"Everything okay?" Dennis's voice sounded right beside her and Casey's eyes popped open as her heart lurched. Her stomach had been tied in an almost aching excitement all day, and her nerves felt frazzled on end. There was something about him, the solid warmth of him that made her stomach do a little flip.

He had been stoic and harsh and so impossibly soft all afternoon, watching her with an even gaze that turned her thoughts in circles. He had let her press thing after thing into his hands, drawings and books and he never responded about a single one of them, but he had watched her ramble nervously on with this look in his eye. It was driving her mad. He had been careful, but she remembered wondering what Dennis would look like when he matched his voice and she was seeing it now. Rough, warm, strong.

He was standing beside the counter, one palm resting on the smooth counter top, watching her and she let out a frustrated groan. "Everything's fine."

"You seem..." he paused as if searching for the correct word, "flustered."

"Well I wouldn't be if you weren't so," she bit off her grumble, hardly aware of speaking, and swore she felt the air change around him.

Every fiber of him had tensed, that cold wall falling into place behind his eye and Casey realized too late what it sounded like she meant. He assumed he was frightening her, making her uncomfortable.

He had no idea.

She faced him squarely, letting out a sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about," she colored, looking away, "when we-" she stopped, looking up at him, too shy to continue.

He was blinking at her, gaze morphing from stoic cold to the stirrings of heat and she watched his shoulders shift, him draw himself back in careful control. Part of her wanted to see it break free, while part of her knew she wouldn't stand a chance against the flood of him. She wanted to be pushed but she didn't want to break.

She stepped forward, tentatively, watching his eye track every movement. She didn't know where she got the courage, but Casey admitted what had been tripping against her tongue all day.

"I, I liked it, Dennis, being close to you..." she blushed fiercely, losing her nerve, "I don't know if you did or if you want that, or-"

He swore suddenly, his gaze dropping, his hand gripping the edge of the counter and Casey froze at the waves of intensity rolling of him.

"I want it, Casey, I want you. but I," he grimaced, passing a hand over his face, "Barry was right. I'm dark. I, I get out of control, and if I hurt you..." he broke off, his gaze lifting to hers and it held more frantic emotion than Casey had ever seen and against all logic it calmed the sea of uncertainty raging inside her, because she knew he would never let anything hurt her.

"I trust you."

Her words broke through Dennis, every piece of him swearing a solemn oath that he would be worthy of that trust. He frowned in such deliberate concentration that a wave of tenderness curled through Casey.

She reached him, let her hand trail up his arm, looking at him with a promise in her eyes.

His fingers flexed, digging in to his palms as her hand continued up his arm. She brought it to his chest and he felt his heart thrum against her palm. Her eyes were wide, and full, and silently waiting and Dennis let his hands move like they had wanted to do all afternoon.

They brushed against her hair, the soft line of her throat, they slid to her waist as she stepped into his kiss and her lips found his.

She sighed a little when their lips finally met, and Dennis felt a tremor go through him. She was so soft, and small, like she would slip in to him completely and she pressed nearer as if she wanted that, like she wanted to lose herself against him and Dennis drank her in.

She pressed up on tiptoe, into the kiss in such a sweet, simple way. His hands tightened on her waist, lifting her easily, feeling her tight intake of breath. Hands gripping him in surprise, and Dennis couldn't help but mumble into her lips.

"Trust me," almost desperate to hear it again, and she nodded.

"I do," she kissed him again, "I do."

He set her gently on the counter, head tilting to brush her lips. She shifted forward eagerly, pulling him against her and he felt her lips curl as her hands took control and everything inside of him wanted to give her this.

He kept his hands still on her waist, steady and undemanding. He kept the flood of aching need low, and let her take her time with him.

She was young and he suspected somewhat inexperienced and something told him she was no stranger to being powerless against an unstoppable force, and he would never be that to her.

He couldn't take back the moments they had met, when he had woken from the black with an unsteady hold, and his hands had ripped at her in a crazed state. His heart groaned as he deepened his kiss, every touch an apology.

Dennis held everything else back and simply let her be gentle and cherished against him.

He had learned to rage in desire and to want harsh and demanding because his life had excluded him from all real chance to feel. But he felt her against him, soft and so gentle as her hands brushed hope against his skin.

She was his chance to be whole and unchained, to have his moment in the sun, and he held her in every careful way.

He finally pulled back when he remembered she had come out here to make dinner and had never eaten, and she sighed, settling herself against his chest.

Chapter Text

They had finally finished dinner, spent the last few hours before bed in front of a movie neither paid any real attention to. Casey was perched beside him on the couch, thin space between, playing with the few unpopped kernels in the bottom of her bowl. Dennis was seated, leaned a little back just beside. He hadn't reached for her, had hardly touched her since they had finally moved from the kitchen. But she could see him watching her out of the corner of her eye, saw his chest expand as inhaled slowly, as if he was trying out a new space, a new hope, a new belief.

Casey didn't mind. His quiet warmth still reached her and she was tucked in with memories and thoughts that spun along a pleasantly uncomplicated trail.

Dennis erased. She had not thought of her uncle once, of the beast or the scars that had hid beneath his hungry hands. She knew, was certain that Dennis had still held back in that kiss, and it made her grateful in a cozy way. She was learning, stepping further into the storm of him, but part of her feared getting swept away. It was like he instinctively knew just how far to push, and her cheeks warmed at the memory.

He glanced at her then, and she turned to meet his gaze. His expression was even but he caught her smile and she watched him breathe, expanding, getting used to this, to the quiet.

The movie ended and Casey stretched, surprised by the yawn that came out, and covered her mouth half embarrassed.

He was watching her, unsmiling, but his gaze traced over her and she could feel its gentle touch.

She stood, and he cleared his throat, shifting. She watched the muscles of his arms press into his shirt as he shrugged.

"Do you mind if I shower? You're tired and will be wanting sleep."

Casey shook her head, "I can sleep through you showering, Dennis," It was a perfectly innocent statement, but their gazes met and it suddenly felt entirely too intimate. He shifted again, blinking rapidly a few times, before glancing away. Casey went to move past but his hand came out, his fingers brushing her arm.

It was a light, hesitant touch, without any real purpose and he seemed to be studying her before he slowly lowered his hand. She sent him a half smile and carried the bowl into the kitchen.

She readied for bed while Dennis showered. She pulled on her usual sweats, a long white t-shirt that she made certain was clean, before climbing into bed.

The shower shut off and Casey was holding her breath. Dennis stepped from the bathroom a few minutes later, clothed in grey sweats and a white tank top, and Casey couldn't help looking him over. He stood still under her gaze, cool and reserved and it eased whatever uncertain clench had fit in Casey's stomach.

She didn't have to be nervous. She had stepped into something new today, but she didn't have to be afraid. Nothing was going to happen that she didn't want to happen.

She repeated it to herself. Nothing was going to happen that she didn't want to happen. She let herself float on that truth, the one so many people took for granted.

Whatever expectations she was expecting him to have evaporated when he gave her a softened look before crossing to the door.

"Dennis?" She spoke as he opened it, and he turned, looking at her in question.

"You could stay, here, sleep here, if, if you wanted?" It was a fumbled mess and Dennis blinked at her a few times before shutting the door and crossing to the bed.

She could not tell at all what he was thinking, but he settled carefully on the edge, his long fingers switching off the lamp at her nod.

The shadows rose around them. Casey stared at the ceiling as she lay on her back, feeling the slight warmth of Dennis as he lay inches away from her.

She heard his sigh, felt the mattress shift as he turned on his side and she stared up, pretending she couldn't feel his eyes one her. Then he moved, his hand finding her arm, tracing it down very slowly until he met her hand. Her fingers wrapped around his eagerly, she heard the exhale of his sigh, and Casey smiled.

She had fallen asleep. He could hear the deepening of breath, the long steady rhythm, and Dennis lay in the shadows, feeling her hand in his own.

He was lost, lost in a way that felt like being found and he didn't recognize the walls of his heart anymore. She breathed and he let it calm his heart beat, let his own breathing match hers. He clung to the warmth of her hand, and let himself remember. Let every detail, every brush skin and touch wash over him, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the memory of her.

He had always been sickened at the part of him, so sure that he would have no control. Certain that once let free he would take without thought and it stilled a part of him, in a frightfully quiet way, that he hadn't done that to Casey. Of all his faults, his crude failures, his edge of anger and need, he could never hurt Casey, could never let anything harm her.

At least he was worth that.

She turned in her sleep, his name spoken on a quiet sigh, and Dennis's throat closed. She blinked, moving, only partially awake, and seemed to be searching for him.

Dennis held still as she crawled against him, his name repeated in a quiet mumble as her head buried in his shoulder. Her body, clumsy with sleep, molded against him, and he breathed. He took a long, slow breath and told himself that he wasn't going to wake up. That he wasn't dreaming.

He didn't breathe in his dreams.

The next day was spent in a careful bubble of warmth. Casey sat in the office while Dennis worked, watching him, every so often asking him about what he was doing. He always answered, sometimes not even looking at her, and part of her enjoyed just witnessing him be him.

He moved with such a controlled edge that Casey couldn't seem to tire of. Dennis had been made to serve a purpose and everything about him was there to fill a role. The hobbies of the other alters were crammed and scattered into every corner of this apartment, but Dennis had this. A wall of organized schedule, a desk impeccably arranged.

He seemed at times to forget she was there. Casey didn't know how impossible that really was.

Dennis felt her presence behind him all day, heard the quiet movement and it hummed against his skin. He was worried, at first, that he would bore her, that his lack of sociable personality would irritate her. He wasn't made to spend time with. But she didn't seem to mind. He couldn't quite comprehend it, but she sat in the corner with a book she only half read and seemed to be content.

He didn't know how well Casey was acquainted with silence, how well she had learned the feeling of empty space. She had craved those places where everything else just wasn't. And now, here, with Dennis's quiet but very real presence filling the room, she felt more at ease then she thought she ever had before.

There was something calm in his controlled stillness, something comforting in the way that she did not have to be anything but just there. Dennis had kept glancing at her, as if concerned, in the beginning, but that had eventually fallen away, and when he straightened from the desk at last, Casey looked up in quiet curiosity.

He crossed to the door and opened it, then looked over at her a little expectantly, and Casey quickly gathered her things and stood. She passed into the hall just in front of him, her cheeks blazing as his gaze followed her, and she ducked her head over the book in her arms, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush.

He followed her into the kitchen, motioning for her to sit and she watched more than a little interested as Dennis began preparing to make dinner. He set a box of pasta and a jar of sauce on the counter. He crossed to measure water into a pot to boil, but as she watched his moves became less exact, more agitated. She jumped when his hands came down suddenly on the counter, his arms locked straight as he leaned over them, his head down in obvious concentration.

"Dennis?" she whispered it in hesitation, and he winced a moment before his gaze came up, hard and unfeeling. He pushed away from the counter and moved towards the hall. Casey turned on the stool but the look he sent her stopped her in her tracks and she stayed, more than a little confused, as Dennis walked away.

The door to office swung shut and Dennis let out an audible growl at the alter currently shouting in the back of his mind. Barry was so angry he was making Dennis's eyes hurt.

The alter had winked out of the light after berating him to Casey, but now he had worked his way back close enough to finish what he started days later.

It would be almost comical, seeing how flustered and spasmatic the smaller alter had become, if it weren't for the things he was hurling at Dennis.

He had tried to stoically ignore Barry for some time, but that only made the man rail harder and Dennis finally faced him.

"Stop."

Barry was having none of it -she's not some thing for you to play with. She's trapped here because the beast wants her and you're supposed to be protecting her!-

"I. Am." Dennis kept the harsh emotion clear of his tone, refusing to let Barry know his words were having any effect, too focused to realize he was speaking aloud.

-I felt what you were doing, what you wanted. She's not yours. YOU DONT GET TO TOUCH HER-

"You do." Dennis meant it as a calm rebuttal, an image flashed in his mind and he knew Barry saw. It was the half memory Barry had let slip of him shirtless above Casey, her hands pressed on his chest, and something sick curled in Dennis's stomach at the memory. Barry actually laughed in the back of his mind.

-that is not the same and you know it. I care about Casey. I care about her comfort and I would never touch her if she didn't want me to.-

"Neither would I."

"BUT SHE DOESN'T WANT YOU TO TOUCH HER"

Dennis had been pulled back by the memory, Barry growing so angry that he slipped for a moment into the light and his shout echoed into the office.

In the hall, Casey stood trembling by the door. She had been drawn to the voices, Dennis's clipped one sided conversation and was trying desperately to understand what was going on, when Barry's sudden outburst startled her.

"You don't know that."

It was the smallest Casey had ever heard Dennis sound, and she swore her heart broke.

Barry scoffed, still half in control. "You actually think she wants you?"

Casey knew it wasn't meant to be cruel, Barry's voice dripped with sincere disbelief, but she had to resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What have you gotten her to do, Dennis?" the quaver of anger was back in his voice, and Dennis flinched.

"I haven't made her do anything." But the edge to his tone slipped just a little with self-doubt, and Barry was all over it.

"She needs you, Dennis. You're the only one who can keep the beast from her. You think she would want to disappoint you? Make you not like her? Do you really want to hold that over her head and use her like that?!"

"Stop." It was a whisper, and Casey was ripped open by the evident pain in Dennis's voice. He was breaking. His hard, impenetrable wall was crumbling and she couldn't understand why. Surely he had endured worse. He had fought down the beast, been dealt pain through a horrible past, why was this of all things getting through?

"You think she isn't afraid of you, that she wouldn't feel forced to do whatever you wanted? I remember Dennis, coming through after you, holding her terrified because of what your hands tried to do to her. You think she doesn't remember?!"

Casey was trembling with silent rage, her hand extending towards the door, but she held back. She had never seen them talking between alters like this, didn't know if it was safe for them to be interrupted. And she knew, she knew Barry was only angry because he cared and he was scared for her, but he was so wrong.

"I won't hurt her." Dennis's voice was low, but firm, and there was a beat of silence before Casey heard another scoff.

"You already have."

It fell too silent, and Casey pressed against the door, unsure.

Dennis swayed as Barry blinked suddenly out of the light, cold moving slowly down through him. 

He already had. 

He remembered the fear in her eyes, his hands clawing at her stained shirt.

The way her hands had shook unbuttoning his shirt from her body, trembling with terror, and the sick, disgusting want that had curled through him.

It didn't care that she was scared. Of him. He had wanted her anyway.

A groan ripped out of him, and Dennis fell to his knees. The door creaked as it swung open and the lightest footsteps padded towards him.

"Dennis?" her voice washed over him, uneven and concerned and Dennis's hands fisted white. Her touch came, light on his shoulder and Dennis jerked forcibly back.

"Don't."

He heard her sharp gasp, could imagine the wide eyed fear at the dangerous edge to his tone, but he didn't look up, didn't look at her. He would hurt her. No matter how badly he tried, he would hurt eventually and the thought caused sick darkness to curl in his stomach and a cold sweat to spread across his skin.

He didn't get to want. He wasn't made to feel. He had been so stupidly naive. The others were right. They usually were. His existence was a careful line and anytime he let himself relax, he did something dark and undesirable. He was undesirable and he had dragged this innocent, achingly beautiful girl down into a sordid, impossible dream.

Casey watched in wary confusion, not understanding what was going on, when Dennis suddenly shifted.

"Casey!" She recognized Barry's voice and her anger snapped instantly.

"Oh just shut up, Barry!"

He drew back, looking hurt but Casey's anger steamrolled the remorse she may have felt. "I heard what you said to Dennis, and it wasn't right!"

Barry all but rolled his eyes, skyrocketing Casey's annoyance, "You don't know him like I do, sweetheart. He isn't good."

She drew back at that, eyes flashing, "You're wrong. And, and he wasn't fired for why you think, Barry. You were wrong about that too! Those girls made him do it."

Barry groaned, distracted between cursing out the alter at the back of his mind and wanting to pull the confused girl close.

"That may be what he told you, baby doll, but I was there. I came into the light right after, sweet girl. I saw what he was thinking. What he was feeling."

Casey's anger faltered at the deep sincerity of Barry's voice, it had dropped into mournful and she stared at the sad regret in his eye.

"I felt it. The dark. He wanted to hurt them. to, to touch them in ways that," he flinched as if gagged by the thought, and Casey was shaking her head but her eyes had gone too wide.

"Maybe it started as a prank, Casey, I don't know. But I know what I saw in his mind, and I don't want that anywhere near you."

He raised a hand, thumb brushing her tear from her cheek, as his own fell from his troubled eye, and he gathered her against him, breaking inside.

"Sweet girl," he murmured against her, "I wish I could take you away from all of this." He pulled back, dropping his forehead against hers, his deep sigh filling the stillness in between.

There was a moment, then his body stiffened and she knew Barry was gone.

Dennis pulled back, his hands straightening his shirt.

"You heard?" Casey whispered, staring into a face that would not meet her eye. Dennis nodded.

"He shouldn't have said those things," Casey said, her whisper breaking and she watched Dennis shift into his cold, perfect posture.

"No, Casey. He was right."

Chapter Text

Casey blinked, her mind trying to scramble past the gaping hole that had just blasted through her thoughts. "What?"

Dennis's arms settled menacingly over his chest, and Casey stepped back.

"I'm not good, Casey." His voice was raw, simple honesty and it dropped out of him like he just didn't care. "I want things, see things in my mind that I am one slip away from doing."

Casey didn't realize she was shaking her head until his hand shot out, gripping the back of her neck, stilling it.

"Yes, Casey." He leaned into her, lips twisted, eyes boring into hers with cold intent. "They weren't wrong to force me out, and you shouldn't forget that. I never should have touched you."

"I wanted you to, Dennis." Her voice wavered with pleading.

He blocked out the words, her eyes, and forced himself back behind steel. He rebuilt his walls with intentional cruelty.

"The same way you want Barry to?"

Casey felt indignant shock flame in her cheeks. Did he really think that if she was Barry's that she ever would have kissed him, let him touch her? What did he think she had been doing?

"What are you talking about?" She managed past rising anger.

Dennis's face fixed in a scowl, "I know you touch him, Casey."

"You don't know anything, Dennis," she spit at him, angry tears threatening and she forcibly held them back. She was confused and hurt and embarrassed and she wanted to scream at the walls because maybe they would listen.

Dennis stared at one spot on floor, realizing every way he had been a fool. He had caught glimpses, ideas of what she had with the others. Warm friendships. Touch. How familiar Barry's hands were with her body and he was ashamed of the jealously that curled its way up his throat.

He had wanted, wanted what he couldn't have, and it had distracted him.

She was trapped here, victim of a beast but they themselves were her captors.

He had spent hours letting warmth pull him away from what he was supposed to be doing.

He wondered if Barry was right.

He didn't want to believe the tiny whisper forming that her touch had been a lie. Casey wouldn't lie, would she? But Dennis was a logical man and he understood. There were two possibilities and only one was remotely realistic; that she cared? Or that she needed him? She would let him take, she would let him want, she would let him hurt her, because he was the only thing that could stop the beast. She thought his touch meant survival, that she had to give to be safe. It ripped through him, leaving a serrated gash in the hollow of his stomach.

He wanted to tell her. She didn't have to pretend. He would still keep her safe. Caring had never been a requirment for his protection.

But Dennis felt the darkness, the kind that craved her touch so badly it whispered to take what she would give regardless of her fear. The kind that craves warmth so much it doesn't care if it's a lie. The kind of darkness that rested in the back of mind and told Dennis that he could not be trusted with Casey.

Dennis forced himself to stand, stoic and calm. He looked her in the eye, wide and full of everything he knew better than dream of, and let brittle words out.

"Don't lie, Casey."

He turned, not waiting for a response, and left her standing in the empty office.

Casey staggered back, shame crashing over her. She would not cry. She wouldn't do it.

She felt so stupid. Every touch rose like a mocking recital in her mind. She had asked, pleaded, begged him to touch her. Craved him and his strength and now the others were hating him for what she had asked him to do.

She had brought him more anger and more pain and she knew she wasn't worth it. She wasn't worth putting up with any of that.

She collapsed, rough angry sobs over taking her as her body trembled with shame.

She went to bed alone. Staring, blinking at a shadowed ceiling. Trying not to think. Dennis had avoided her, utterly and completely. Like she didn't even exist.

Like she was nothing.

Hours passed as she stared, until eventually, she fell asleep.

Casey stirred, a voice buzzing in her ear, and she blinked awake heavily.

"Finallyyy" Hedwig was bouncing on the bed beside her, and Casey pushed herself up startled, looking around in utter confusion.

"Hedwig?" she croaked, voice still rough with sleep, "What are you doing in the light?"

The boy scoffed, "Well, duh, Mr. Dennis was asleep, uh not like he was using it."

Casey was still blinking, "I thought no one could take the light when Dennis has it."

Hedwig rolled his eyes, "well yeah, like normally, but when he's asleep, I can take it if I try real hard. The others can't. Miss Patricia says that I got potential."

He flashed a proud grin, frowning when Casey didn't reciprocate. The memory of when Hedwig last had the light was too strong in her mind.

"Hedwig, can you get Mr. Dennis for me?"

Hedwig scowled, looking hurt, "You neeever want to see me anymore." he whined, and Casey tried to keep her patience. It wasn't the boy's fault he'd been kept from the light, but Casey couldn't help but feel something very bad was going to happen.

"I do want to see you but there's something really important that I-"

She broke off midsentence. Hedwig had gone too still. Hope flared, thinking Dennis had returned, until black angry eyes turned on her, and Casey swallowed a scream.

"At lasssst." his voice hissed as the body cracked and strained, his fingers tearing his shirt free. and Casey was stumbling backwards, feet tangling in the sheets as Hedwig's body grew into the beast.

"They tried to keep you away from me," he snarled, and his body began to move almost unnaturally across the bed.

Cassy kicked, hard, pain shooting through her foot when it connected with a chest that was too hard, and she bit back a terrified whimper as long fingers latched onto her thigh.

"You can not fight this. You will be mine."

His claw-like hands dug into her calf and she bit back a scream as he drug her to him.

This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be happening. It was a useless repetition cramming up her brain, taking all of Casey's thought.

She fought. Desperately her body fought but the beast hardly noticed. His hands just closed over her body like she was a shaft of rope, pulling her closer and closer and she gagged in terror as she felt his hands tear into her clothes. Strips of material were torn from her body, layer by layer each revealed to his dark, animalistic gaze as he pinned her completely beneath him.

Casey was panting, unaware she was chanting a name until the beast laughed, a long, echoing sound.

"Dennis can't help you, girl. Nothing can stop me once I am here and I." he jerked her against him, "Am," his hands tore the last of her shirt away, "Here." She felt hot sickly breath on bare skin and Casey crumpled. Her hands covered her head as her mind detached and she lay, counting the memory of breaths, waiting for this all to be over.

A panicked Hedwig stumbled bodily into Dennis, and he jerked up in confusion. Why wasn't he still in the light? He looked around, who was in... he gripped the boy's shoulders.

What did you do

Hedwig's tears disguised his words but Dennis already knew. The beast had the light. The beast had Casey.

He ran, breaking through remnants of forgotten edges of Kevin's mind, pushing towards a wall of black. He felt it, slicing into his skin, shaving it back and he felt the weight of death pressing down on him. It was a power this beast had, to stop anyone from even drawing near. He pushed, harder, trying to reach, but the beast was fully formed, at its total strength and Dennis was struggling against an impossible wall.

He was in the background of the light, that place where glimpses of reality could filter its way in and he heard her, he heard her panicked, choked breaths calling to him and an unrecognizable roar ripped out of him.

He jerked, aware of hands, and turned to see Barry. Half collapsed beside him, blood spilling from his lips and Dennis shouldered the smaller alter back angrily. He couldn't be here. It was impossible he had even made it this far, but Barry glowered at him with a wild determination.

"Save her, Dennis, please!" the smaller alter thudding against him, pushing with all his might, and Dennis took another step forward.

More scenes filtered in. Casey's scream, sounds of shredding and the Beast's pants. Rage flowed like molten stone through Dennis and he felt his body tightening, hardening into hate and he latched onto the dark throat of the beast.

For one agonizing moment his eyes were clear, and Dennis was blinking through the vision of the beast. He saw Casey, sickeningly still and bare beneath them, body thrown across the bed. Liquid horror flooded into him and he felt the beast stir, turning to face him down.

That's when Dennis saw her scars.

Rows of fine lines etched in careful detail across her skin, slits in the perfect edge of her. Testaments to pain, to terror, to a horrible broken past, and Dennis's mind whited out.

He in that moment became every dark thing that had ever railed against him, the extent of each pain they had ever felt, and his hands locked around the beast.

It roared, widening, its claws raking into his chest and searing pain ripped into Dennis's mind. He faltered, his gaze blinking in the light. He saw, for one moment, Casey's calm and perfect face lying too still, then he stepped into the Beast and all went black.