"Cut clean from the dream that night, let my mind reset."
-Hozier
***
Sirius knew he was dreaming as soon as he opened his eyes to sunlight through soft, gauzy-white curtains. It didn't hurt his eyes, and he was on a soft bed, but the biggest tip off was the blonde head resting on his chest.
But he'd take this over nightmares any day.
Tentatively, certain she would disappear as soon as he dared to move, he ran his fingers through the silky stands of her hair. She sighed softly, and his heart broke in two. It was ridiculous how such a little sound could affect him so intensely.
She made a little grumbling noise, then looked up and smiled. His breath caught in his throat. She was just as perfectly beautiful as she'd always been. He didn't blink when she raised up onto an elbow and leaned forward, kissing him.
Cinnamon and the scent of sun-baked grass played over his tongue. A flat memory of her complex taste at best, but more than he currently had. He buried his fingers in her hair, his other hand trailing down the curve of her back.
After a moment, she pulled away. She rested her arm on his chest, then her chin on her arm, looking at him. The sunlight made her winter-grey eyes luminous, almost silver. Softly, she whispered, "Morning."
"Hi," he whispered back, voice a little choked.
She surprised him by turning her head to glare at the door for a second. When she came to a conclusion that seemed to satisfy her, she turned back to him. With a conspiratorial grin, she said, "We have probably three minutes."
He frowned, not sure what she meant by that, but then she was on top of him, her tongue sliding against his. His body reacted immediately, having missed her touch to the point that it was painful.
He clutched at her hips, kissing her back feverishly. She made a small, pleased sound when his fingers hooked into the waist of the sweats she was in. He sat up, hand on her shoulder to push her down to the mattress.
She gasped lightly, her back arching when he pushed the hem of her tank top up, exposing her smooth stomach. Galloway was fit, her body obviously trained by her combat-heavy lifestyle, but she was soft in all the right places. Control slipped away from him and he bent his head, licking and kissing down her stomach, wanting just to taste her, to remind himself of what she tasted like.
All his mind could conjure was a weak imitation, but at this point he didn't care. His mouth traveled lower and she murmured, "Sirius, we don't have the time."
He ignored her—sure that Logan or Caleb or whoever the hell they were supposed to meet now could wait—and bit gently at her hipbone. He wanted her so badly he couldn't stand it. He pressed a kiss into the sensitive skin of her lower stomach, and she sucked in a breath, the sound letting him know he was headed in the right direction. He kissed her again, a little lower, and she said, "Sirius!"
Her voice was so emphatic he had to look up. She raked a hand through her hair with a sigh, cheeks a little flushed, lips red. Slowly, she tugged her tank top back down, making him growl. With a smile, she pressed her palm against his mouth to quiet him, and said, "The kids will be awake any second."
Sirius muttered disparagingly against her palm, then his eyebrows drew together sharply as he stared at her. He blinked rapidly. She took her hand away from his mouth, and he sat up fully. "The who will be what now?"
All she did was roll her eyes. Her lips parted, but then the door was thrown open, making Sirius flinch as it banged into the wall.
"Mama! I want pancakes!" a high-pitched voice that was murder on his ears squealed.
Galloway grinned as something miniature and blonde launched itself into her arms. She caught the thing and said, "I think we can manage some pancakes."
"And bacon!" another small voice crowed, and Sirius had the breath knocked out of him as a small body slammed into his upper back, arms wrapping around his neck in a chokehold.
Before he could react, the small body flipped itself over the top of his shoulder to land in his lap, giggling as it looked up.
Sirius didn't understand what was happening until he stared down at the child in his lap to find a boy of maybe seven or eight years with midnight hair and winter-grey eyes. His head snapped up to look at Galloway who was laughing with a little girl, younger than the boy, who had blonde hair. She peered up at him with sapphire eyes, and his breath whistled out like he'd been gut-punched.
The little boy stood up, hands on Sirius' shoulders to keep his balance. He bounced up and down on the bed, laughing as he looked down at Sirius with more affection than he could fathom. The boy asked, "Bacon, Dad. Can we have bacon? I want bacon. Please, Dad?"
Galloway answered for him. "I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind making some bacon, Connor. Would you, Dad?"
"What about pancakes?" the little girl demanded, glaring at him with eyes that he'd only ever seen in the mirror before. She growled, the sound playful, and jumped toward him, little claws scratching at his skin as she caught herself against his bare shoulder.
Galloway laughed, the sound gorgeous and contented. She caught the little girl around the middle and pulled her away from Sirius, hugging her and making her giggle. Still cuddling her, she said, "Yes Ala, we can make pancakes."
His eyes met hers and he found her grinning at him, the expression mocking and delighted and so very happy. Slowly, he shook his head. "I can make bacon."
The child in his lap, Connor, shouted with delight, throwing his little arms around Sirius' neck. After a moment of petrified shock, he held the boy close, a terrible sadness destroying the dream as soon as he touched him.
Darkness seeped across the picture in front of him, taking Galloway and Ala, then finally ripping his son from his arms.
His eyes opened in the real world, pain battering him from every angle. He gasped in a horrible, racking breath, feeling like someone had thrown him down a mountain, then picked up the mountain and placed it on his chest.
"Guys! He's not dead."
His gaze drifted listlessly to the side. He was unable to move any more than that. Rick looked down at him from where he was standing next to whatever Sirius was laying on. This time, it was something lumpy, uncomfortable and hard.
Conversationally, Rick asked, "What the fuck was that you were fighting, Fido?"
He tried to speak, but his throat didn't appear to be working just yet. Rick nodded sagely, like he had answered, then said, "Well you were damn lucky we showed up when we did. That fucking thing looked 'bout ready to take off your head."
Sirius remembered that. The darkness had taken an actual, physical body, vowing that if it couldn't have him, then nothing could.
Coughing, he tried to sit up, but all his muscles did was shiver in protest. He looked up at Rick again, who seemed to know what he wanted. Shaking his head, he dropped the teasing tone and said, "Dude I don't even freaking know how you're alive. So why don't you just lay there and bleed for a little while, huh?"
"Rick, would it kill you to have a little bedside manner?" an exasperated female voice asked.
Sirius blinked slowly as Alex peered over her brother's shoulder, her face pale as she looked at him. Softly, she said, "How are you feeling?"
"Probably almost dead," Rick responded, his tone dry.
Alex punched his shoulder, making him scowl. Tentatively, she sat next to him, making whatever he was laying on creak woodenly. "Are you thirsty?" she asked kindly.
Sirius knew it was bad after that. He must really look like hell to elicit such concern from them. When he looked up again, he found Caleb standing next to Rick, his face drawn and worried. Meeting his gaze, Sirius croaked, "I've never gone toe to toe with the darkness before. Wasn't expecting it to kick my ass like that. Usually it just says nasty things from the sidelines."
Alex gasped, and Rick's arms dropped down to his sides in what might have been shock if he didn't look so grim. Sirius looked at him with narrowed eyes, and Rick scowled before walking away.
Caleb's eyes flicked back and forth between them, then he said, "How are you not dead?"
This time, when Sirius tried to sit up, he actually managed it. His body was not happy about it, but he managed it. He realized he was on a crate of some sort, then looked around at what appeared to be another damn abandoned building. No clues immediately presented themselves, but Sirius didn't really care to learn what the building used to be.
Alex offered him a water bottle. He fumbled with the cap for a second, fingers clumsy with fatigue and pain. She sighed and took the bottle back, taking off the top before handing it back to him. He cautiously took a sip, the water cool and soothing against his parched, swollen throat. After he had finished nearly half the bottle, he sighed and said, "How long have I been out?"
He knew better than anyone that time moved differently in dreams than it did in the real world.
When they both hesitated to answer, he demanded, "How long, Caleb?"
With a sigh, he muttered, "Two days. We were afraid to move you much farther than off the street and out of the immediate neighborhood."
His heart stopped and he flopped back weakly, staring open-mouthed at the Hunter, begging him to say something different. Caleb looked down, then muttered, "I'm sorry."
"No," he said plaintively. "Don't... don't tell me you haven't done... anything. Don't tell me we haven't got anything. Please."
Neither Alex nor Caleb would meet his gaze. The melancholy left from the dream of things he could never have was compounded by the horror of knowing they had wasted so much time. Fury tore through him and he tried to lunge forward, but a sharp pain held him down. All he could do was growl, and that only managed to make his throat hurt all the more.
He pressed his palms to his eyes, his chest and shoulders screaming from the action, and tried to hold back his anger and hopelessness. Thankfully, he was still too exhausted from his wounds to be able to spare much energy for those damn emotions.
Eventually, he looked back up and glared at Caleb. "I told you. I told you what happened after three days."
Caleb's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head. "No. These count as extenuating circumstances. We're not—no. I won't do it."
"Do what?" Alex asked, looking between the two of them, her eyebrows drawn together.
Neither of them answered her, too busy with a staring contest. Sirius bared his teeth, and hissed, "They are tearing her apart, Caleb. Right this second they're peeling the meat off her bones." His voice cracked, but he charged on anyway. "She's being hurt right now. And you won't do anything to stop that?"
The Hunter looked down, but still shook his head stubbornly. Alex let out a frustrated breath and demanded, "What does he need to do?"
"He needs demon blood, Al. Four gallons of it. A gallon's about how much blood a single person has in their body, give or take." Rick's voice cut through the stale air.
Alex paled, staring at Sirius, aghast. He returned her gaze unapologetically, and she shook her head. "No! Caleb's right. We've got to find another way."
Sirius scoffed, but didn't say any more. He knew there would be no point. Hunters and their questionable morality were really starting to piss him off.
Caleb just shook his head. "You can't do anything right now anyway. We're about an hour away from Paradise. We can argue more about it there."
With a small scoffing sound, he just lay back down, closing his eyes to try and assess the damage without cutting away the bandages currently wrapped around the majority of his body. Both Caleb and Alex sighed, and he heard a distant laugh from Rick.
Ignoring how Alex protested, he swung his legs off the crate he was on, and tried to stand up, just to find his knees had the consistency of pudding. Caleb caught him, and he hissed, "You've got one day, Hunter. Figure it out. If we're leaving, we're doing it now. I'm not waiting anymore."
Caleb's mouth tightened, but all he did was nod. Turning slightly to the others, he said, "Rick, help me get him to the truck."
Sirius considered shoving the Hunter away, but knew that would be unwise. He rasped, "I can drive."
"You don't have anything to drive," Caleb answered curtly. "I paid someone to take it back to that dragon mechanic of hers."
All Sirius could do was stare. He didn't get the chance to ask Caleb what gave him the fucking right to take any more away from him. Rick came back over and they helped Sirius out of the rundown building and into the single-cab truck.
Rick shut the door, and he watched as he and Alex got into a car he didn't know the make or model of. It looked vaguely like something Galloway would approve of. Caleb started the truck, then said, "I figured the sooner that thing got fixed, the better."
Sirius didn't answer, he just looked up, watching the stars speed past him, trying not to get drawn into the trap of thinking about that trauma-induced dream.
Because it had all been completely impossible. Both figuratively and physically. Sirius couldn't produce viable offspring with humans, or... at least he assumed that since he hadn't left a string of bastard children behind him.
And he wasn't the only half of that equation that couldn't work. Galloway had told him that Logan had told her immediately after she had submitted herself to the Soul Collector spell that the black magic had rendered her sterile.
With that sad little half-smile she wore when she talked about her past, she'd told him that it was something she'd come to terms with, and even appreciated. But he'd been able to tell that it was still something that was a point of sorrow in her existence.
Which just made everything hurt so much more, knowing he could never truly give her that perfect happiness. It shocked him a little to realize how much he wanted what his mind had teased him with.
He'd never wanted children before. Ever. He'd never known his own sire, and he had never cared to.
Staring blankly up at the dark blue sky, he came to the conclusion that he probably didn't want children. It was just the idea of how happy that would make her that he wanted.
Ignoring the rattling of the truck under him, he forced himself back to sleep, knowing he would need it to heal, and praying to anything that would deign to listen that he would never dream, ever again.
~~~
When he woke up again, they were pulling into a small motel in Paradise. Something must have taken some small mercy on him, because even if he had dreamt, he couldn't remember about what. He sighed in relief as he stared at the sun just peeking over the horizon, ignoring how the fresh light stung his eyes.
Rick opening his door made him jump, and he nearly fell out of the truck. It surprised him when the Hunter actually caught him, then helped him out before taking an arm over his shoulders.
At the strange look Sirius gave him, Rick just scowled and muttered, "Not one word, Fido."
He shook his head, letting the Hunter help him up the stairs to their room. Stifling a whine when Rick all but dropped him on the nearest bed, he tried to pluck at the bandages to see how much longer it would be until the hole in his chest really healed up. The hour nap from the northern edge of Vegas to one of its neighbors-turned-suburb had helped to take some of the pain away, which let him know the darkness hadn't done any permanent damage, but he needed to know how long he'd be down.
His hands were batted roughly away, and Rick said, "What part of damn hole through your middle are you struggling with here? Leave it be."
Sirius huffed, annoyed, but did as the Hunter said, pulling himself farther up the bed so he could rest his head on the pillows. They made a small crackling sound as he lay down, his eyes closing automatically.
The springs of the other bed creaking made his eyes open to find Rick stretched out on the mattress, his arm thrown over his eyes to shade them. Sirius stared at the Hunter, taking a moment to study his Soul again. The red and bronzy-gold color that had blasted away the darkness before it could kill him swirled up under the exposed skin of his right arm, the only thing Sirius could really see.
There was still something strange about the Hunter, but again, he couldn't seem to put a finger on what bothered him about the man. He startled a little when Rick muttered, "Quit looking at me."
Sirius blinked, staring at him for a second longer before he turned his gaze to the window. All that was visible was a strip of blue sky between the dark tan curtains. Green palm tree designs on the light tan bedspread under him kept catching at the corner of his eye.
Silence descended around them until all Sirius could hear were the ticking of the clock and Rick's breathing. Slowly, his eyes drifted shut, then flew back open when someone banged on the door.
Rick muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath, then sat up. He glared at the door, then strode across the room, throwing it open. Caleb and Alex came in, Alex sitting on the end of Sirius' bed.
Unable to stand looking at him, he turned his face away from Caleb, staring blankly at the wall. The wicker pattern of the wallpaper caught weirdly at his eyes, straining his vision. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to track correctly.
Caleb sighed and said, "Alex and I are going to start looking around for something."
"Excuse me?" Rick asked, flopping back down on the bed.
"We're not going to do anything. We're just going to see if we can dredge up a lead." Caleb paused meaningfully, and Sirius knew they were looking at him. Lowering his voice, like that would keep Sirius from hearing him, he said, "Unless you want to go with me and leave Alex alone with him?"
Rick was silent after that, and Sirius could only assume that he had nodded, because shortly after that Caleb and Alex left, and the only remaining Hunter turned on the TV.
He settled on a baseball game, and Sirius tried to let it lull him to sleep again, without any luck. Moving carefully, he sat up and stared disinterestedly at the TV for a while, until he said, "I'm not going to eat her."
Rick snorted. "What?"
"Alex. I'm not going to hurt her if that's what you and Caleb are so worried about."
The Hunter didn't respond right away, and Sirius looked over to find Rick scowling at the end of his bed. He raised an eyebrow when Rick looked at him, and he finally said, "You gotta understand, man. You're a Hellhound. You're just about the worst thing walking on God's green earth. There's not a whole lot of trust between us here. None of us exactly want to spend a whole bunch of quality time with you."
Now it was Sirius' turn to scoff. At Rick's curious look, he said dryly, "You don't have to trust me. You just need to know that it wouldn't benefit me in the least to kill any of you."
"Maybe you'd just do it for fun," Rick said, voice completely calm.
Sirius laughed, gasping when it made his chest hurt. He coughed at the pain, then said, "See, now that's just a wrong kind of thinking. Killing you for fun would be too much damn work. I don't have the time for it, plus you're no good to me dead."
It surprised Sirius when this inspired a burst of hoarse laughter from the Hunter. He looked over when Rick stood up. With a grin, he asked, "You want a drink, man?"
"Are you going to poison it?" Sirius asked dryly, but nodded. Even if Rick had answered in the affirmative, Sirius wasn't entirely sure he'd pass up the offer.
Rick shook his head, still grinning as he dug through his bag, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. The smoky, sugar-sweet smell of bourbon filled the air, the scent stabbing at his heart. It wasn't the same brand that Galloway preferred to drink, but it was close enough.
After pouring, Rick came over and handed him a glass before he sat on the edge of the other bed. Sirius hesitated for a second, staring down into the clear amber liquid. Then he shook his head and drained the glass.
Rick did the same, then sighed and said, "Bleeding a demon dry, will it kill the demon?"
Sirius didn't answer him for a long time, instead just staring down into his now empty glass. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. "No, not unless you slit their throat with a demon blade. It'll kill the host; you'll still have to send the demon to Hell via exorcism."
The Hunter sucked at his teeth for a second, then stood up and poured himself another drink. He sat back down on his bed, swirling the whiskey around in the glass, staring down into its depth like it would reveal the future.
He asked, "Aside from your... personal stake in this, why is it so important that we get this... what's her name again?"
Sirius didn't mean to growl, but it slipped out anyway, and he waved a hand in a half-hearted apology at the Hunter. Whispering, he said, "Galloway."
"Right," Rick said, tone just a little less abrasive. "What does it matter that we get her out of Hell?"
"Minus the fact that her being gone is killing me?" Sirius clarified, his voice dull. He slumped back down to the bed, eyes closing for a moment.
He regretted that when memories of the dream from earlier flashed there in the darkness behind his eyelids, taunting him with family and peace and things he would never know. His eyes opened. "If they keep her long enough, if they tear her Soul down enough, she'll open the gates to Hell. Demons will swarm across the face of the earth, destroying everything you know and hold dear."
Rick made a small sound of disbelief, and Sirius smiled grimly. Turning his head, he met the Hunter's gaze and said, "You don't have to believe me. You can ask Caleb, or maybe he'll have one of her witches talk to you about it."
"You're serious?" Rick asked, then grimaced. "I mean... dammit, you know what I mean."
With a grimace of his own, he nodded shortly, the movement making his throat ache. He touched his tongue to his upper lip, tasting the whiskey there, then croaked, "I couldn't bring myself to joke about it now, okay? It's not... there is nothing funny about what is going on here. I wouldn't lie to you about what took her away from me. Demons want out, plain and simple. I don't need your belief, I just need your help."
Rick was silent for a long time, still staring down into his drink. Then he looked up again and said, "Caleb's way is going to take a long time."
Sirius bared his teeth at the mention of the other Hunter, snarling quietly. Rick's expression flattened, and Sirius sighed. Softly, he muttered, "Yeah. Too long. Because after we get the blade we have to find one of the old entrances to Hell."
"Is there one in America?" Rick asked.
Sirius shrugged. "A few in Mexico at some of the Aztec or Mayan ruins. They had a thing for the underworld. There are some Native American sacred places that we could use. I think the closest one's in Wyoming."
"Devils Tower?" Rick suggested, making Sirius give him a sideways glance. Rick laughed, the sound thoroughly unamused. Muttering under his breath, he said, "What's in a name?"
"Everything," he answered. "Names are important. Things rarely get their name by accident. So, yeah, probably Devils Tower is where we'd have to go to get into Hell."
"How long do you think she can last?" the Hunter asked suddenly.
Sirius' breath wheezed out as memories of his own stint in Hell flickered to life, echoes of old pain skittered across his scars, and he sat up. Shaking his head, he whispered, "I don't know. Because I don't know how long a day up here is for her down there. It could feel like a year, it could feel like twenty. All I know is nobody can hold at forever. So the sooner we get her out, the better."
"What happens to her if she stays down there too long?"
This made him look up in surprise. Rick scratched at the scar on his neck, and Sirius choked out, "They'll strip her Soul down to nothing. They'll do it over and over again un-until she's... until she's not even a little bit human."
The very thought terrified him in ways he couldn't even begin to explain.
"They'll turn her into a demon?" Rick said softly, then took a sip of his drink.
Sirius couldn't give an answer other than a nod, his throat closed up with fear.
There was another heavy silence, until Rick said, "What if... I helped you?"