It was just another fight. Just another fight. Will kept telling himself that, but he didn't really believe it and he wasn't sure why.

He thought it might have something to do with The Wraith, who almost looked like a wild animal, snarling and throwing everything he had at anything who had the guts to get close to him. There was something about it, something so reckless and crazed that made Will's stomach turn. He barely seemed to be noticing the cuts that were slashing their way through his arms, his legs, his... everything, really. They were everywhere.

He dragged his eyes away from The Wraith and swept them over the scene as a whole instead, taking in Percy, who was wildly slashing his blade, trying to make any sort of difference in this fight.

Will was at his side in less than a second, flashing over the ground at the speed of light, just a blur of something like sun rays. He caught Percy's wrist, halting the progress of his sword through the air, halting the progress of the hurling tirade of water he'd been controlling. He barely gave pause before shooting forward again and hoping Percy got the message, skidding to a halt in front of The Wraith, rays of light spinning around him aimlessly until he lifted a hand, dodging out of the way of one of The Wraith's shadow whips at the same moment he flicked his wrist, sending a dart of light straight toward it. It wrapped around the phantom appendage and tore it to shreds.

The scream that was dragged from The Wraith was one of pure agony, and it chilled Will to the core. He could've sworn he'd seen him grin.

He'd done this too many time to count. It usually wasn't so easy, he didn't always win. The Wraith never seemed to put up much of a fight anymore.

-

Will's hands were covered in blood and the stench of it was invading his nose, his mouth. Metal and death.

"Just hold on," he was saying, hands pressing down on the guy's abdomen, trying to stop the flow of blood from the wound there, "Just hold on."

The stranger reached out blindly, hands grasping feebly at his wrists and Will closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind, finding every shattered bit of tissue. He felt it in his own gut, the burning, twisting, indescribable pain. He wanted to throw up, the guy had been stabbed in his liver and even as Will started humming, building power, feeling light pulse through his hands, woven through with his own strength--ready to pull and repair and make whole again--he could feel him slipping. No, he wanted to say, no. You can pull through this, don't give in. Neither of them had time for that, though, so he started singing. It was low and sounded desperate, because he was.

He imagined tissue being pulled back together, blood vessels repaired. Light was spilling through his hands, twisting frantically, trying to get the job done. But the man was still slipping. It wasn't enough.

The lyrics were a tangled, frantic mess now, words slipping over one another in his haste, punctuated by sobs and gasps. He could feel the guy's heartbeat slowing like a second presence in his chest. Slowing and slowing even as his song became more and more rushed. And then it stopped altogether. Will felt him fade, heard the startled gasp slip from his lips and felt his fingers go limp around his wrist, but he still he kept singing even though he knew it was hopeless.

Will's voice tapered off eventually and he rocked back on his heels. The mans's jaw was slack and his eyes were wide open; Will reached out and brushed them closed; it left streaks of red across his eyelids. Losing someone, not being able to save them, always felt like losing a part of himself.

He looked upward suddenly, on some strange instinct, and found pitch black eyes locked onto his own from across the street. The Wraith's mouth was twitching like he couldn't decide what to do with it and his shadow whips were swaying feebly-- not lashing and flailing as they usually did.

You did this. Will wanted to scream it at him–-even if he hadn't done it directly-–wanted to tear him to shreds for good this time, but something caught at the edge of his vision, just the barest trace of movement. Will jerked his head toward it, and the Wraith a moment after him. Silence was already pouncing--a super from another base in Queens--and Will shot to his feet.

The Wraith could have torn her to shreds, and Will knew it, but he didn't even try. He never tried anymore, not really. He just made it look like he was trying. Lashing out, but not as fast or as vicious as he could. Dodging, but not quite enough, managing to be hit every time. You'd only be able to tell if you knew him as well as Will did, if you'd seen him fight as many times as Will had.

Will shot forward, to help Silence or The Wraith (Why was that even an option in his mind?), he wasn't sure. It didn't matter, though. He caught a glimpse of The Wraith's face the moment before he disappeared and it was hopeless and bloody.

He didn't know what to think anymore.

-

"You said you didn't want to hurt me," Will said, hands twitching at his sides, wind tearing through his hair.

The Wraith laughed and this time it sounded exactly like his father's. Black lines were pelting across his face like rainfall. "Lumine... I don't think you understand." He took a single step forward and Will wanted to take a step back, but he stood his ground, pulling sunlight toward him instead, letting it swirl across his skin. A blinding sort of armor.

Will gulped, and then fought the urge to gulp again when the movement made The Wraith's eyes catch on his throat. He couldn't help but think that he was probably imagining tearing it open with his teeth. The blackness of his eyes made his expression unreadable. "Then enlighten me."

His eyes flicked back up to Will's, his mouth twitching upward in a small smile and Will found himself wishing that he could believe it was genuine. "That was bad joke, Lumine."

Will laughed, once, a short, abrupt noise that made his body jerk. "It wasn't meant to be joke, Wraith."

The Wraith looked off to the side, hair lashing across his face, mouth still curled into a smirk. It was almost easy to believe that he was just the same as Will in that moment, just a boy pretending to be something more than he really was. But he was different. He destroyed. Will repaired. They weren't alike in the slightest.

"That's a shame." His voice was almost lost to the wind.

"I thought it was a bad joke."

The Wraith's expression was slowly closing off again, Will hadn't even realized that it had opened up. Something inside of him was trashing wildly, screaming at him to do something to keep him from shutting off completely.

The Wraith's hands curled into fists, "A bad joke is better than none at all."

"True enough," he said, and then after hesitating, after watching the word 'no' be scrawled across The Wraith's cheek by an invisible hand, he said, "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

He'd expected him to laugh, wanted so badly for him to laugh. Instead, The Wraith's chest pulled in, pushed back out, air escaping through his teeth. His expression was ice again.

He said, "To get to the other side," sounding all too proud of himself, and lashed out, throwing Will sideways to the other end of the overpass.

Will hit hard, rolled several times, and hauled himself to his feet, rage coursing through his veins. "That," he said, dragging light toward him, piling it into a tangible force in his hand, "was a bad joke, Wraith."

The Wraith just laughed at him, shadow whips dancing around him. Will wasn't sure if he was at all human in that moment.