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When Nathan finds himself on a yacht, he knows that what he's seeing isn't real.

But it was real one day. That's the scary part.

He's been here before, some six months ago. He remembers this space with its dim orange lights and background jazz all too well. He remembers the large table in the middle, where Jamie and Eva Booker sat playing a game of poker with the mafia. He remembers Derek's lingering oppressive presence, his sipping whiskey at the bar.

Now, Nathan's standing here all on his own, but it doesn't make this place any less oppressive.

He curses under his breath.

Above him, the lights flicker. His magic scar seems to sting and burn every time they do. Nathan's hand travels to the old wound and he applies a little pressure to it, all to distract himself from that irritating undercurrent of hurt. Before he obtained this scar, he'd never known it was possible to feel pain in dreams. Maybe it actually isn't possible at all.

Because this is, ultimately, the furthest thing from an ordinary dream. Or an ordinary nightmare, for that matter.

This is a form of torture. A magical punishment he still doesn't know how to escape.

But maybe it'll be over fast this time. Maybe he'll be let off easy. Maybe, with some luck, he'll be allowed to wake up in the blink of an eye.

(Though contrary to Linda Carrera's assertion, Nathan has never been a very lucky guy.)

Driven by his desire to make short work of this, Nathan breaks out into a run—just like he did when this was all reality, when this yacht was sinking underneath him and he was shoving his way past panicking crew members in the ensuing chaos, when he was on his way to help Veronika and put a violent end to his criminal career. He knows where he needs to go. The uppermost deck. His final destination on the yacht even now.

Nathan remembers exactly which route to take; his lungs even burn like they did that day. He ascends the main staircase without considering any detours, without contemplating making a run for someplace else. Experience has taught him that would be useless. He tested different escape routes in past iterations of this hellscape, tried getting to Patch's motorboat as well as locking himself in the bathroom he dragged Jamie into, but to no avail. He always ends up where he needs to be. Where the Devil himself awaits.

The closer Nathan gets to the upper deck, the more violent the sea around the yacht becomes, waves toying with the huge ship as if it's nothing but a plastic bag in the wind. His scar's stinging grows more persistent with every step and by the time Nathan's outside, inhaling ashes underneath a pitch-black sky, his breaths come out ragged. He struggles not to double over, for the pain is sharp and cruel, a phantom fire scorching his flesh anew. But it pales in comparison to the terror the creature before him instills.

"Ah, there you are. Such a pleasure to see you here." Derek McLaren sounds as distant and hollow as Bishop Nikulasson's did, though not quite as emotionless. There's a bit of amusement in Derek's tone, mixed with a vicious mocking—a combination that makes Nathan want to start snarling at him to shut up. But he won't do that. His voice isn't steady enough and it would be a waste of effort.

Instead, Nathan focuses on lifting his gaze and looking Derek in the eyes, hoping to show he's not afraid even though he's terrified. Terrified because Derek's eyes are empty, glassy ones, wide-open and forever unblinking. Terrified because the bullet Nathan fired into his skull has left him horribly disfigured and bloody, leaving parts of his brain exposed to the open air in a macabre display for his audience of one. Terrified because every bit of flesh still left on Derek's bones is charred as black as the sky above and everything still smells like salt and blood and flames, even though a dream shouldn't ever have a scent.

"You again." Nathan speaks through gritted teeth, forcing himself to remain composed through the fear and the pain. "Just how many more times are we going to do this?"

It doesn't happen every night. Thank god it doesn't. Still, Nathan has lost count of the amount of times he's been brought back here to talk since he killed Derek and used magic to cover up the crime. He has given up on trying to figure out who he's really talking to—his own subconscious, a cruel puppet tormentor created by the magic staining his body and soul, or Derek's actual spirit come to haunt him from beyond the grave. Whatever this is, Nathan needs it to stop.

Derek grins. Sizable chunks of the skin around his jaw have sloughed off, affording Nathan an even more sickening view of his slowly rotting teeth. "Do you have to be so hostile? We're merely catching up."

"I don't want to catch up. I'm done talking to you. Fuck off and let me go."

The ashes swirl around them still.

"It has come to my attention that you'll be visiting an island," Derek continues unperturbed. "An island called Poveglia. A very haunted place. Are you sure that's where you want to go?"

"I'm sure I want you to stay out of my personal business is what I am."

"Because it could be dangerous, you see." Derek cackles, the sound clear despite the violent crashing of the waves. "All places so filled with suffering pose a risk. You never know if an accident is waiting to happen. And it would be a shame if something were to happen to you, wouldn't it? Or to precious Miss Carrera. Wouldn't that be even worse?"

"Leave her out of it!" Nathan snaps, losing his grip on his composure the very moment Derek brings Jamie into the equation. "We're going to be fine. Jamie's going to be just fine. I won't let anything happen to her, do you hear me?"

Derek lies, he reminds himself. Derek always lies. All this evil thing is doing is trying to get a rise out of him, mess with his head and emotions like he did in life. Derek's words were toxic then and they're just as toxic now. Nathan shouldn't listen to this, shouldn't take anything this beast tells him seriously. That's just another recipe for disaster; Derek always thrived on harming others whenever he saw fit.

He needs to brush this off, and he tries. But everything this nightmarish apparition in Derek's dead skin tells him still takes root in the darkest recesses of his soul where it may fester and rot, and all Nathan can do about its nagging presence is fight it best he can.

Derek's grin never fades, his posture doesn't change, but those glassy eyes of his roll back into his skull as if Nathan hit him with a mind control spell. "We're all free to believe whatever we want. Just remember that if you dig into enough graves looking for treasure, eventually something may come crawling out of the underground."

Nathan is sick to death of all these riddles and games. "Are you still harping on about the goddamn book or what? Just shut up already! Shut. Up. Get out of my head, get out of my life, and fuck you, Derek! Fuck you fuck you fuck y—"

He gets a mouthful of ashes, coughing and spluttering putting an end to the stream of expletives he still had in store for this phantom of what used to be. He squeezes his eyes shut tight to protect them from the dust; Derek's cruel, smiling form is already engulfed in a black sea. Nathan feels himself slipping away from it all and awaits the end to this madness eagerly.

Even though he knows this won't be the last time he and Derek meet again.

~~

October 14, 2023

"Nate. Wake up."

Jamie doesn't make a habit of rousing people from their sleep in the middle of the night. However, if the circumstances hit right, it's fair game. Desperate times call for desperate measures and Nathan certainly seems to be experiencing a desperate time. Hence Jamie's decision to gently nudge him awake. The alternative would be sitting around ignoring his suffering and she's already bristling at the mere thought of doing so.

But saving people from their nightmares isn't a risk-free endeavour, so Jamie exercises caution and steps back the moment Nathan's eyes shoot open. The right choice, because Nathan scrambles to sit up so fast he might've accidentally elbowed her in the face if she hadn't. He's out of breath and sweaty and his eyes dart around the room in lost disbelief, as if he still doesn't really know where he is. He's scared to death, that's clear as day, and Jamie would be lying if she claimed that didn't make her heart ache.

"Hey, it's okay, it's– it's all good. Calm down. You're safe." She almost reaches out to touch him again, but refrains at the last second. Bad idea. Terrible idea. Her words will have to be enough.

Nathan still needs a moment to land, to let what she said sink in and get himself under control, but he finally succeeds. His feverish look recedes, his breathing slows and his muscles relax slightly. He's still much more tense than Jamie would like him to be, but he's doing better than before for sure. Jamie's still busy micro-analyzing his every last trace of discomfort when he looks at her and speaks.

"Shit." Nathan turns on the light by his bedside. He runs a hand through his hair, which looks even messier than it usually does. "What... Did I wake you up somehow? Sorry."

As if Jamie's the one deserving of concern instead of him. Even if he had woken her, that would be completely irrelevant now. Jamie shakes her head. "No, don't apologize. I was already awake."

It's true. She was awake, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and making a game plan for what's to come. They'll be spending the night at Poveglia tomorrow, getting the filming out of the way as soon as possible to enjoy the rest of their vacation without having to think about work, but that requires formulating a strategy. Regular filming prep aside, Jamie knows Stella and her parents can't find out she and Nathan will visit the island during this trip. They'd throw a fit for a variety of reasons and Jamie really does want to make an effort and maintain the peace. If she's going to go off the grid for a night, she'll need a plausible cover story, no doubt about that.

"You couldn't sleep?"

"Not really, but that doesn't matter all that much right now. I'm fine. You, on the other hand..."

Nathan sighs. "Did it look that bad?"

Bad is too soft a term; terrifying better approaches the truth. Jamie considers denying it, but it wouldn't fool Nathan. He knows perfectly well she wouldn't wake him for no reason.

"Honestly? It was kind of scary. You were just tossing and turning like you were trying to, I don't know, escape something. Or attack something. And you were talking in your sleep." Jamie feels awkward just standing there, so she sits down cross-legged on Nathan's bed, only realising a little too late sitting down on her own might've been a better option. They're way too close. Again. Why does this keep happening?

Nathan frowns. "Do I, uh... Do I want to know what I said?"

Jamie shrugs. "You were mostly mumbling gibberish and a bunch of stuff that would get me demonetized if I repeated it on my channel. No prize-winning speeches or anything."

Nathan smiles slightly at the phrasing. Jamie relishes the sight. Though he definitely does it more than when they first met, Nathan still doesn't smile all that much, and that's such a shame. He has a wonderful smile that Jamie loves to see, and she might love being the one to coax it out even more. She enjoys making people smile in general, but it just feels better if it's him. Special, somehow.

"Sorry you had to see that. Hear that." Nathan hesitates. "If this keeps happening, I guess we could always get separate rooms."

"Nope. That's off the table." Jamie gets comfortable while she makes that abundantly clear right away. They did separate rooms in Iceland at first, until Nathan had joked it was kind of a waste of money for her to be paying for a room of her own if she spent most of her time hanging around his anyway. It had been a good point, so they'd just been hotel roommates after that.

Jamie likes it that way. If she's alone in a room for too long, the walls start closing in on her.

Walls are funny things like that.

"Besides," she continues, "stop worrying about me. Elaborate on if this keeps happening. I know you have nightmares, but..." She pauses. "How bad is it really? Is it always this intense?"

Nathan thinks about this, glancing up at the ceiling as he tries to recall. He looks so tired while he does it, tired and vaguely pained by something Jamie can neither fully understand nor chase away. And it hurts, seeing him like that. It makes her feel helpless in all the worst ways.

When they still had Nikulasson's grimoire, there was a spell she could've used to take Veronika's pain away. She didn't do that for Veronika at the time, but she'd do it for Nathan in a heartbeat if she could. Take the pain away. Make everything better.

But the book is gone, and Jamie can't do much of anything except simply being here and hoping it helps a little.

"It's not always this awful," Nathan replies. "There aren't always nightmares and most are just regular ones. But sometimes they're... different. This one was."

"Different how?"

"I think they're magic's doing. My scar hurts every time it happens. It's kind of aching now, too."

Nathan's fingers move to apply light pressure to the scar on his side, currently hidden under the old T-shirt he sleeps in. Thank the heavens and all the gods he sleeps in a T-shirt, because the alternative would be torturous. Jamie would have a really tough time staying focused on the things that matter.

"I guess those dreams are very vivid, too," Nathan continues after a moment's hesitation. "Very real. And they tend to roughly follow the same pattern. Sometimes I go a long time without having to experience that shit, but it always seems to find a way to strike."

"Do you think it's, like, a trigger thing?"

"Could be. Not sure." Nathan seems to shrink in on himself a little, momentarily looking much smaller than his '6'0" dude who could easily finish a fight' self. "Maybe I'm just stressed or nervous about the island. There was a bit about it..." He shakes his head. "...But fuck that. It doesn't matter. Dreams are just dreams."

Perhaps they are. Jamie still finds it all alarming, especially if Poveglia plays but the smallest role in this. Yet, it's not alarming enough to make her seriously consider not going there tomorrow. It only motivates her to get it over with as fast as possible.

The opportunity is simply too good. The video she could shoot there could be solid gold, a fresh start. This could be her way to escape that dreadful lying attention whore label.

(Attention whore, sure. But she doesn't fucking lie.)

Jamie needs that because it's been eight years and there's a little too much love and a little too much self-worth tied to her channel for her to give up on it now. Witchcraft Wednesday needs that because if nothing changes for the better, it means Jamie should've called the damn thing Freakshow Friday after all.

She hasn't actually thought about that term, or the person who coined it, in a long time. And it was just fine that way. It was just. Fine.

But it's like Nathan said. Fuck that.

Jamie's going to Poveglia one way or another. Nothing short of the world ending could possibly prevent it. But Nathan doesn't have to come with her. Jamie would love to have him by her side, but she refuses to drag him into something he's uncomfortable with just because he already said he'd come.

"Nate. If it's bothering you, you don't have to accompany me to Poveglia. You know that, right?" Jamie makes a point of looking him in the eyes, hoping to get her sincerity across. "I can go by myself. It wouldn't be the first time and it wouldn't bother me. And I'm not saying this because I don't want you there with me, which just isn't true, but because I want you to know that you have a choice and that I won't hold whatever you choose against you."

She doesn't expect an immediate answer; unlike her, Nathan usually takes a little more time to think things over. Or, alternatively, to overthink things. But tonight, he makes his choice fast. Very fast. He straightens up, grip on his blanket tightening, and his expression becomes even more serious. There's determination in his eyes, determination as steely as the grey of his irises.

"Thanks for telling me that, but I'm not staying behind here. I'm coming to the Poveglia place with you."

He holds her gaze as he says it and all Jamie can think is that he didn't hesitate. Not for a second, despite the fact it would've been allowed, understandable, to be expected, even.

But maybe it shouldn't surprise her. Nathan may not state it outright, but his actions have often shown her how deeply he can care about people close to him. Jamie never did forget that he risked his life helping her out of Derek McLaren's clutches, even though he didn't have to, even though she'd unceremoniously barged into his life only days before and had turned the whole thing upside down—not for the better in every way.

There's that, and how seriously dedicated he's been to starting over and staying on the straight and narrow, and just about a thousand more little things, really, that make him the very best person Jamie knows.

And now this.

She's pretty sure it never has fully dawned on Nathan how amazing he is, but she hopes he'll realize it someday. In the meantime, she'll just remind him of it whenever. She considers telling him something along those lines, but he's still looking at her like she's important somehow and that's making it far too difficult to gather her thoughts and words. And if they stay here like this for much longer, she knows she might just give in to an impulse and do something completely and utterly stupid. Like kissing him.

That would be an absolute disaster waiting to happen.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Jamie can't mess this up. Not now. Not with him.

"Okay." That's all she manages to say and it comes out a little strangled. She stands up a slight bit too fast and almost trips and falls in the process. Smooth. "That's... Yeah, you're coming! Sure, cool!"

Jesus, that was weird. A little pathetic, too. Jamie smiles in hopes there's still some dignity left to salvage here. "I appreciate that. For real. But I guess it's... I guess it's going to be a long night tomorrow and we should try to get some sleep. Don't you think?"

If Nathan has an opinion on how awkward all of that was, his expression gives nothing in particular away. "Yeah... Goodnight."

He lays back down and turns the light off, allowing darkness to engulf their room again. Jamie stands in it a little longer, contemplating whether to follow her own advice or spend more time scrolling through her socials and empty her head. But if she opts for the latter, she'll have hours slipping through her fingers in the blink of an eye, so she gets back in bed and adds it to tonight's List of Successfully Resisted Temptations.

She does still think about the Poveglia video before drifting off to sleep. About uploading it on the thirty-first of October. She'd checked if the stars aligned to let Halloween fall on a Wednesday this year and had been sorely disappointed to see it would be on a Tuesday. Still better than Friday, though.

Still better than Friday.