Unconsciousness brings little relief or protection from the memories; now we can't even try to block them out.

We spend what feels like hours trapped in the dark crevices of our mind, powerless to do anything but replay past events over and over, unable to hinder or forget their presence.

No. Please. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Make it stop.

Jack's mind has never been more isolated; she can't hear me, she doesn't remember she's not alone. Tall barricades and walls surround her mind, blocking off all communication between us, walls that I know are there despite the absolute darkness.

I have never felt so alone in my own mind.

Jack. Please. Let me in. I need to hear your voice.

Stumbling forwards into the dark, I force myself to face the memories that oppose me. Again and again, my father's images confronts me, each ounce of pain he brought me felt through every fibre of my being.

The walls are so close, but they show no sign of lowering for me, as cold and tall as ever.

Jack?

My voice echoes in the silence, reverberating off the walls and barricades.

Jack? Please answer me.

She is unresponsive, no sound greeting my ears except the suffocating darkness and my father's voice, getting closer and closer. I pound on the stone walls in panic, hearing steps approaching.

Let me in Jack! Please! I need your help!

She still does not reply.

The footsteps are much closer now, and I spin round, trying to pick out the source from my nie on impenetrable surroundings.

There is a small patch of darkness darker than the rest that slowly morphs into a distinct shape.

A wolf.

As they near, their features become clearer and I gasp in shock; it's Jack. Yet how, I do not know. She's barricaded behind the walls my back is pressed against. I cannot trust this figure.

The wolf's ears prick up upon sighting me, trotting towards me with a certain eagerness.

Jack?

The wolf nods, relief evident in her eyes but I still do not let my guard down, not trusting my senses.

Isobel?

How did you get here? I thought you were behind these walls.

The walls aren't surrounding my mind or yours. Rather, they surround memories, memories that you would be happier not seeing.

Hesitant, I seat myself cross-legged on the ground, allowing Jack to approach me and she bounds forwards, giving my face a small lick before settling beside me, head on my lap.

Jack, what is behind them?

Memories I do not want you to see.

Why not?

They ... How much of the night I killed our father do you remember?

It's a blur. I remember us fleeing from the house. I don't really remember anything after you took control.

It dawns on me that there is a large blank part of my memory and my eyes narrow at Jack, a horrible thought occurring to me.

What did you do?

What it took.

Tell me!

Not yet. She looks around her. It's getting light, meaning we're waking up.

She's right; what was once pitch black has graduated to a light grey, the light source undiscernable.

We need to wake up ready to fight. Sharing those memories will hinder that.

Promise you'll tell me later?

Yes.

Even as she speaks, the world brightens to a blinding intensity, making me lose sight of everything.

Then, slowly, reality shifts into focus, my eyes squinting in discomfort. A pair of neon orange trainers are in our direct line of sight and I jump backwards, remembering the beast that wore them.

However, the person wearing them is most certainly not a monster.

"Gwen?" I ask in confusion, my mind reeling from both Jack's revelation and the events preceding being trapped in my own mind. "What happened to the monster? Is Carrie really dead? Where is - " She holds up her hand, her expression grave.

"The child vampire is dead - for just reasons. The beast is gone for the moment, although I'm sure she will be back."

She starts to walk towards the Packhouse entrance but I catch her arm, retracting my hand when I see the colour of her eyes; red, scarlet red like the monster.

"Gwen, are you the creature that attacked Carrie?"

She ignores me, continuing to walk away, leaving me to pursue her into the Packhouse.

I don't trust her. Let me take control. She could turn on us at any moment.

I hand command over to her, never taking my eyes off Gwen who offers me an eerie smile, her teeth resembling neither a humans nor a wolf's. When she speaks her voice comes out as something between a bark and a hiss.

"I am going to find the goddess that has invaded this Pack. She will be returned to where she belongs, regardless of what it costs. Come, Luna."

She dares -

Jack forces herself to stay calm, understanding reckless actions could result in a death similar to Carrie's, deciding to follow Gwen indoors.

We walk through several corridors, Matthew and the witches' scents getting stronger the further into the house we get. The door to the pack common room lies ahead and Gwen pulls it open, revealing complete carnage.

Sofas and tables lay shattered and in various states of dismemberment on the floor, and the floor is covered in deep scratches. Somehow, the windows have remained unscathed.

"After you Luna," Gwen states, and for a moment we are tempted to disobey, only the memory of how easily she dispatched Carrie propelling us inside.

Matthew and Apate have continued to fight while we were outside, perspiration streaming down my Gamma's face, his eyes narrowed in frustration at how long this is taking. It's clear that the fight will end soon, although who will win has yet to be decided.

Matthew manages to snap a pair of handcuffs on Apate but she still refuses to give in, fighting both him and the bindings, breaking them with her superior strength while Matthew is disorientated from her latest offensive.

She dives for the edge of the circle in an effort to disrupt the witches' chanting but at the last moment Matthew grabs her ankle, tugging her away from them and back into the centre of the circle. Grappling with her, he manages to pin her to the ground cuffing her ankles and wrists together so she can barely move.

Matthew limps out of the witches' circle, acknowledging that his part in this is over, collapsing onto the floor beside me, breathing heavily.

A single spell from the witches incapacitates her but they struggle to maintain it, battling between constraining the goddess' divine abilities and continuing with their ritual. However, they somehow manage to do both and the ritual proceeds as planned.

Joining hands, the witches begin chanting, surrounding the restrained goddess in an endless circle. The ground begins to shake beneath our feet, smoke bleeding into the air through the cracked stone floor. Apate thrashes against the heavy chains in panic, her skin attaining a grey pallor as the magic consumes her.

A perfect circle carves itself into the ground, thin lines crisscrossing it, forming a second, smaller circle that surrounds the goddess' incapacitated form. Beneath her, the ground screams in agony as it is ripped apart, creating a black tunnel that leads to Tartarus, its only feature a faint orange glow at the bottom, the scent of brimstone quenching all others.

Apate's skin flushes a deep red as her body burns from the heat swelling up from below her, heat that can be felt even through the witch's protection spell; I can only imagine how intense it must be for her. There's no sound, her mouth open in a silent scream as her skin and innards boil and finally alight, her body dissolving to ash. Her remains are sucked down the tunnel, into the depths of Tartarus, the scent of burnt flesh lingering despite the absence of the source.

With a screech, the earth pulls itself back together seamlessly, everything in the room exactly as it was before, the carpet back in its place, not even a wrinkle present. Only one thing is different; a perfect circular burn mark on the ceiling, a massive, streaky, black mark coating the otherwise pristine white plaster.

Matthew sighs.

"Isaac's going to want the room redecorating."

***

The next few days are spent undoing the damage Apate did the Pack, reassuring people that me and Isaac are alive, that Matthew is not an enemy, that everything can go back to normal, that they don't have to be afraid anymore.

Jack also tells me what was behind the wall in my mind: the night she killed my father she did not finish him off in one go. Instead, she tortured him, dismembering him one piece at a time, pulling out nails and cutting off thumbs. The rest was too horrific for me to cope with, at which point she cut off the memories.

Why did you do it Jack?

To make him suffer like we did. It's in the past now. I'm sorry. It was too far, even for me.

I know.

We find Isaac tied up in the Pack cells, heavily drugged alongside Xander, both unresponsive to outside stimuli. Matthew and I return to their sides as often as our duties allow, hanging onto the vague but unrealistic hope that they know we are there and are waiting for them to wake.

About five days after we defeated Apate, I can't stand Isaac's absence and, despite my exhaustion, haul myself away from the lure of our bedroom to his hospital room.

Somehow, we make it to Isaac without falling asleep but we barely manage to stumble to the chair next to his bed, my eyes shutting themselves. Resting our head on our arms, we stare blurry eyed at his limp, drugged body. The drugs are supposed to be wearing off; I want to be here when he wakes up. He needs to wake up. I miss him. I miss him so badly. However, my body has other ideas and I drift off entirely, consumed by sleep.

We wake up about an hour later, Isaac still unconscious and unresponsive. He seems more peaceful though and closer to wakefulness than slumber.

"Isaac? Isaac?"

I give him a gentle shake and he stirs, the drug's effects starting to wear off but not enough for him to regain consciousness.

Nate? Isaac?

He does not respond.

Nate?! Nate!

No movement. Not even stirring.

Nate, wake up.

Jack begins to whine, her fear and worry swamping my mind.

Nate, come back.

He groans in response, slowly beginning to come around.

"Isaac?"

At the sound of my voice he snaps upright, his hand tightening around mine and pulling me to him while his eyes dart around the room in panic. Once he is sure there is no threat to me, he turns his attention to us, his eyes worried.

"How are you here? Why am I not in that cell?"

"We defeated Apate. She's been banished back to Tartarus."

"We?"

"Matthew and I."

"What?! Iz, I thought I asked you to not intervene. Please tell me you're alright, you're not hurt? What were you thinking?!" He checks me over, reassuring himself I'm not injured. At his reaction, I decide telling him about Carrie can wait until he's out of hospital.

"I'm fine, don't worry. The baby's fine too. Matthew refused to let me go near Apate until she was secured."

"Thank the Goddess for that. At least Matthew retained some sense."

Nate? Are you okay?

I'm alright. Just tired.

I was so worried.

Without warning, Jack seizes control of my body and passionately kisses Nate, tears falling down our cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds before she releases him but she continues to hug him, burying her face in his shoulder.

I was so worried.

I'm sorry Jack. I -

Shut up. Just shut up.

She begins to cry again, hiding her face from him. Nate simply enfolds us in his arms, kissing our head. Jack's stress and worry drown me, an all consuming flood that I've never witnessed her express previously.

Jack, why didn't you tell me you were so worried?

I always needed to be the strong one. For both of us. And I wanted you to be happy, something that couldn't happen if I weighed you down with my baggage.

She's not wrong. Even when enduring my father she never shared any negative emotions beside anger. Never sadness. Never pain. Not even when he fired cruel words at us and physically abused us. In the past, I never really considered how she isn't a monster that's only motivation is fury; she isn't immune to hurt.

When I was trapped inside her mind, I saw her only as a savage killer and that view did not even begin to change until she forgave Isaac for imprisoning us. I never realised how lonely she must have been, to constantly hide large portions of her emotions from me, for the sake of me.

Jack, it's okay. I'm here now. You're okay.
You're not alone.

Not anymore.

And never again.

Nate kisses our head, both wolves transferring control back to me and Isaac.

I'm sorry Jack. I'm sorry for not talking to you as much since meeting Isaac.

No, it's alright. Since you've met Isaac, I've been able to talk to Nate. He - He gets rid of my loneliness.

That isn't an excuse for me ignoring you. I am sorry. Just tell me how to make it up to you.

I did have control for a good number of years, I think it's time you had a bit of freedom.

Jack -

Isobel, it's fine. I don't need to protect you anymore: you can look after yourself now.

But now you need to be cared for. Let me do this for you after you helped us survive so long. Please?

Alright.