"Just a little rush, babe. To feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me... Our veins are busy, but my heart's in atrophy. Any way to distract and sedate."

- Hozier

                                                                                  ***

The crystal struck his skin three times. Three times she told him not to do it, that it wouldn't make anything better.

But he didn't really believe her.

His resistance crumbled like a sand castle in a hurricane, and he snatched the hollow crystal away from Valentia, leaning over the table. Inhaling sharply, he ignored the way the powder bit into his sinuses.

A taste like caramel apples filled the back of his throat, and when he moved his gaze to the third line he found his pupils were already blown out.

When he was done, he pinched the bridge of his nose and lay his head back on the top of the couch, waiting for the burn to stop. Valentia giggled, the sound echoing through all the holes in his skull he could now feel.

"I said three, Sirius."

He cracked one eye open and then the other, staring with delight as colors he suspected weren't there burst and pinwheeled through the room like miniature fireworks. It took a moment to remember why he'd opened his eyes in the first place.

Looking at the table, he found it was down four lines instead of just three and frowned.

"I'll pay for the fourth," he said with a shrug. He could feel the tendons slid over the bones and did it again because the sensation was interesting.

"No, no," Valentia said airily. "My treat."

"Treat," Sirius muttered. "Treat. Mm. I like tricks better."

She laughed again and stood up, smoothing a hand down her dress. He liked the shushing sound her hand made over the silky material.

"Just relax, Sirius. Enjoy the show. I'll come get you and the rest of my payment when it's here." She cast a critical eye over him. "You should be mostly sober by then."

Sirius nodded, though the movement made the sounds around him warp. He slumped back into the sofa, eyes moving rapidly as he tried to track each new pop of color that exploded around the people partying.

After a second of following the bursts of light, he found the pattern. 

It was sound.

A high-pitched laugh from a woman brought bright yellow. A deep voice was violet. Clinking glasses created green fireworks and the bass from the music was blue and deep purple.

He laughed, creating red around him, then stopped, sitting up sharply when something in the crowd caught his attention. It disappeared, and he sighed.

There it was again. A flash of deep blue.

Then a man moved to the side and he stopped breathing.

Galloway stood in the center of the room, wearing that blue dress he'd stolen for her the first time they'd been in Vegas together. Her blonde hair fell in soft curls around her face and she smiled, beckoning him forward.

Some small part of his brain currently buried in coke-induced stimulation taunted him, telling him he should have seen this coming. The rest of his brain couldn't comprehend what was really happening.

It was just content to send fire through his veins.

Without remembering how, Sirius found himself on his feet. She smiled again, and, with a start, he realized she was wearing makeup. Alabaster skin was highlighted by light silver shadows at the edges of her eyes, her lashes unnaturally dark and long. Frosted pink lips smirked at him and he moved forward.

He wasn't sure he was attached to his body, but wouldn't risk looking back to make sure he hadn't left it on the sofa.

There was laughter—a small explosion of bright yellow. It made him shield his eyes.

He blinked hard and jumped when a voice said, "Hi."

When his vision was no longer spotting, he looked down to find a dyed-blonde girl who smelled faintly like werewolf smiling up at him.

Sirius turned wildly, searching for Galloway. She'd been here. Here. Right fucking in front of him. Where had she gone? Why had she left without him?

"Looking for someone?" the werewolf-smell girl asked, putting a hand on his arm.

Violently, he shook his head and jumped back from her, his brain sloshing around in his skull. "You're not who I want!" he snarled, fangs cutting into his lip.

It felt like someone was pressing the dull edge of a knife against his skin.

The girl snarled back something that was probably unpleasant and stalked away from him.

He put a hand to his mouth, touching the small cuts before pulling his fingers away to stare at the blood there. Then his vision wobbled, and the slick substance on his fingers turned from black to bright red.

It streaked down his fingers, moving like it had a mind of its own until it came to the bands of black around his wrist. Sirius watched in horror as it edged closer, not really knowing why he didn't want his blood to touch the magic.

He watched, riveted as the droplet finally made contact. Agony exploded from his wrists, climbing up his arms in broad loops to wrap around his chest, squeezing down on his heart. Sirius dropped to his knees, wheezing and gasping. Somewhere very far away—impossibly far away—he thought he heard a scream that echoed the one in his head.

Something bright red splashed to the ground in front of his knees, followed by another drop, then another until it turned into a steady stream. Cautiously, his fingers shaking from the burning pain around his wrists, he touched his face to find his nose was bleeding.

His vision wobbled again, and the crimson pool turned to an oil slick.

What was happening to him?

"I did say three, Sirius."

He tried to drag his gaze up, but tilting his head back made the blood run down the back of his throat, gagging him. Valentia didn't seem to mind, grabbing his chin and bending at the waist to look into his eyes.

"Can you taste the silver yet?" she whispered, then snapped her fingers at an obscenely large man next to her.

Before he could try to stop it, silver wire was looped around his wrists and he was being tossed over the man's shoulder, a trail of blood left in their wake. Valentia soothed the other guests and a door slamming shut made Sirius flinch.

"Fucking bitch," he murmured, shaking his head to try and clear the blue fog that had settled over his eyes.

He was thrown into a chair and tied down, but his drug-riddled brain wasn't letting him know how screwed he was yet. Suddenly, his lungs seized, and he started coughing and hacking hard enough that his stomach twisted. He leaned to the side, vomiting Hell only knew what.

"What the... the fuck," Sirius had to stop and drag a breath into his lungs, "did you give me?"

"A little of this, a little of that," she said coyly. "Snipes and snails and all that."

His stomach lurched and he retched again. Blood was steadily trickling from his nose. Now he could feel the microscopic bits of silver he hadn't smelled before cutting into his sinuses, making him bleed.

How had she delayed the reaction?

He coughed, blood sticky on his tongue. "Why?"

"Why don't we wait until you've come down a little before we try to hold any civilized conversation?" Valentia suggested. Something shiny and sharp twirled in her hands.

Sirius would have argued, but his vision was fading. The darkness chittered around him. "Where's a damn Hunter when you need one?" he muttered, not entirely sure he'd said it out loud before he plunged over the edge of the cliff, far down into unconsciousness.

                                                                         ~~~

When he opened his eyes, he realized he wasn't somewhere new. In fact, he was somewhere very old. A place he hadn't thought about in centuries.

"Hello, Sirius."

He sighed, leaning against a nearby marble column, looking out of the temple down onto the fields below them. "I'm a little full up on my quota for ancient gods," was his only reply.

"Would it kill you to be a little more polite?"

"Not here," he retorted. "Kind of the problem with dreams, isn't it? Can't make me."

"I didn't bring you here to argue."

"Then what do you want, Persephone? I already told you. I'm not helping your bastard husband. Not after what he did. Not after what he took from me."

"Yes, your Hunter girl, I know." Her voice was sour.

"Galloway," he snarled, finally turning into the Necropolis to glare at the goddess.

The diaphanous dark blue robes she wore were inclined more toward seduction than a business dealing. 

Maybe those two things were one in the same, he thought.

Diamonds glittered on her throat and wrists, sapphires woven into the thick braids of her dark hair. 

"That's her name. Not Hunter girl, not Huntress."

"But that is what she is," Persephone reminded him. "A Hunter. An enemy."

"I stopped fighting under banners a long time ago. You made sure of that." He smiled as she flinched. "She's the only one I don't see as an enemy. Everyone else can go to hell."

"How blind she has made you," Persephone marveled. "You can't even see the hand extended to help you anymore."

"She," Sirius said slowly, dangerously, "is the only thing I have or ever will love. And you've never extended a hand to me. Now, what do you want, Persephone? You sort of caught me at a bad time. I'd like to get back to it soon if you don't mind."

"What?" she asked, voice innocent. "You mean tied to a chair, drugged out of your mind with a woman you've repeatedly scorned standing in front of you with a demon blade in her hand?"

"I thought that's what she was holding." He nodded. "Yup. That'd be the place."

"And let us not forget the black magic searing you," she added.

"Let's not." He rubbed unconsciously at his wrists, knowing that as soon as she let him wake up, he'd be in a world of pain.

She pursed her lips, staring at him, obviously displeased with something. Maybe his words, maybe his attitude. Maybe just him. By now it was hard to tell.

Then, she tilted her head, eyes half-closing like she was listening to something being whispered in her ear. Sirius' heart sank. Something was going to happen. That much he understood.

The only real question was what was going to happen.

Her eyes flew open and she smiled, the expression gracious. "Perhaps I've gone about this the wrong way," she murmured. "Perhaps what you need to understand is what you will gain if you help me. You need a taste of the reward. You always have."

With a bitter laugh, he shook his head, turning to look back out over Ancient Greece. Persephone snapped her fingers, making his hard smile drop. A flash of something like pale gold in the corner of his eye made him freeze, his heart turning to a solid lump of ice in his throat.

He didn't turn. He was afraid to.

"Where," she drew the word out, then changed direction, "what the hell?"

It was like someone had taken a sword to him, cutting his legs out from under him, and he dropped to the ground, palms pressed flat into the cool, black marble. "Stop," he gritted out. "You aren't going to get anywhere with me by doing this. By giving me a cheap copy. I've had enough of those, thanks."

Persephone stooped down next to him, the smooth brown skin of her legs flashing through the slits in the material of her dress. "She's real. It's her."

"Who the hell are you?" her tone had turned icy. Sirius really hoped that was aimed at Persephone.

The goddess' lips brushed against his ear. "Hades has a few tricks up his sleeve too, Sirius. And he's willing to play to get what we want."

"Sirius?"

The ice around his heart shattered, and he lunged to his feet.

Galloway stood uncertainly in the middle of the temple, looking down at the white silk that made up a gown similar to Persephone's, but less rich. Slowly, he took a step toward her, and her head jerked up.

Sirius hesitated, looking at Persephone. This had to be a trick—a trap. Something nasty for his behavior the last time they had spoken. She would disappear right as he reached to take her in his arms. She would morph into a leviathan and devour him. Persephone would turn this wondrous moment into something ugly with a bat of her eyelashes.

Persephone narrowed her purple eyes. "No tricks, Sirius. No traps. Just a sample of what you could have if you agree to help us."

For a moment he hated his own foolish arrogance. By telling Persephone about her, he'd played right into her hands—right into Hades' hands. He'd handed her a sword named Weakness and she'd run it right through his heart. 

"Okay, honestly, I have no clue where we are, not sure if this is me or Hell or whatever," Galloway said, "but all I care about is Theron just finished..." Her breath shortened and there was a dull thud as she fell to her knees, hands clutching her head, a thin keening sound coming from her.

He didn't have the strength to not respond to such a helpless, horrified sound from her. Trap or no trap, Sirius turned and crossed the room in three long strides, sliding to a stop on his knees in front of her. Almost roughly, he pulled her into his chest.

As soon as he touched her it was like something had snapped back into its proper place. He could breathe again. His vision sharpened, brightened. Inhaling deeply, he realized Persephone had been telling the truth.

This was her.

"Why—w-why," she stuttered, tears hot through his shirt. "I remember. I don't—I'm not supposed to remember! They're not supposed to hurt me here."

"Sh. Sh," he hushed, combing his fingers through her suddenly tangled, bloody hair. He gasped and Persephone swore, snapping her fingers again. Galloway's hair turned silky and clean around his fingers, and he realized with horror that whatever state her Soul was really in, it would transfer here without Persephone keeping that perception at bay.

Galloway shuddered once, then twice and looked up. Tears continued to stream down her face and she continued to tremble, but she was no longer making that awful, defeated sound.

"What changed?" she asked. "Why..." She stopped and wrapped her fingers in his shirt. "When I'm here, it's just supposed to be you and me."

He put his hand against her face. Her skin was freezing. 

"I love you," he said softly.

Because it was the first thing he had intended to say when he saw the real her. Because he would never be able to say it enough.

"But you aren't real." Her voice broke on the last word and she collapsed forward into him, arms going around his neck, face pressed against the side of his throat. "Don't say that, please," she said, crying again. "They twist it. I already told you that."

His throat closed up, understanding immediately what her dreams had been about.

Carefully, he moved around until he was sitting with her cradled in his lap, where he could hold her close, arms wrapped around her protectively. Trying—though he knew it was futile—to make her feel like she was safe.

"Yes I am," he whispered. "You remember what happened right now because this isn't Hell."

She looked up at him, the movement sharp. "What is this?" she mumbled. "What is he doing now?"

Sirius didn't understand what she was talking about until her elbow was driving into his sternum.

"Off!" she shrieked, making him cover his ears. "Get off! You're not him." She backed away, eyes darting around like she was looking for a way to run.

Her expression turned wild, nearly feral and she bared her teeth at him. A sheer look of pure hatred passed behind those grey eyes he loved so much and he froze again, even as his muscles screamed at him to do something.

She'd never looked at him like that before.

Even when he'd hurt her. Even when he'd been cruel and insufferable, she'd never given him a look that said she wanted his blood spilled across the floor under her bare feet.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "I swear to what the fuck ever, I don't care what you are. I will tear you to pieces. Better yet, I'll sit and laugh while the real Sirius does it for me."

A ridiculous little laugh bubbled up his throat. She was still fighting. She was still angry and hostile. God, he loved her. 

"Perhaps I can speed this along?" Persephone murmured from behind him. He nodded, still chuckling a little. She might as well.

After all, she'd said it was the real thing... and it hadn't been a lie.

Galloway's gaze flicked to Persephone and her eyes narrowed. Then she let out a scoff that could leave someone bleeding. She looked at Sirius. "You know, usually you cheap knock-offs come alone."

That stung. Could she really not tell that he was the real thing?

Persephone snapped her fingers and suddenly they were standing in Milo's garage, several classic cars all around them. Galloway's hostility dropped away, shock taking its place.

He knew that would work. Dreams in Hell were static. Simple. One place, one pleasure.

It made it easier for Hell to manipulate thoughts that way.

Slowly, Sirius got to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender when her laser-like gaze snapped back to him. Her features grew pinched and guarded.

He wracked his brain for something, anything that would prove to her this was real.

"When I get you out," he started carefully, "what car do you want me to take you home in?"

Her entire body went slack, every last drop of fight seeming to drain out of her. Her lips formed soundless shapes and he was dying to feel those shapes instead of see them. He wanted to kiss her. Wanted her breath in his mouth and her body pressed up against his.

He needed to know if her lips were still as soft as they'd been. If she still tasted as good as she smelled. If she would still react in the same way: sighing into his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair, molding herself against him.

A weird mix of strong and soft that he craved with every molecule in his body.

"Son of a bitch," she suddenly moaned, burying her face in her hands and shaking her head. "I've lost it, haven't I?" She looked up at him bleakly, leaving him totally bewildered.

Persephone sighed, impatience laced through her breath. "No, you idiotic mortal. You haven't lost anything." The goddess tossed a heavy braid over her shoulder. "This is real. I believe your kind call it dreamwalking, yes?"

She looked at Sirius for confirmation, but all he did was shrug. He'd never had the ability to control even his own dreams, so he had no idea. 

"I..." Galloway frowned. "Who the hell are you?" She turned to Sirius. "Who the hell is she?"

He couldn't help but like how her tone turned jealous and nearly rude.

"It matters not," Persephone snapped before he could answer. "Just know this is real. Can't you tell the difference between those Hell-plays that happen every time the blade goes too deep," she paused as both Sirius and Galloway flinched, "and this dream?"

"I..." Once more she trailed off, but there was something different about the expression. Something more concentrated, more internally focused.

Persephone muttered, "That's right."

Galloway fell to her knees once more, hands cradled over her stomach, dry-heaving.

Ignoring the fact that he would probably get hit again, he rushed to her side and placed a hand on her back, not sure what was wrong or how to help.

"Oh God," she gasped. "No."

"I'm sorry," Persephone said, not sounding very contrite at all. "I can hide your real appearance, but I can't do much to repair the damage you have sustained."

Galloway was making these little muffled whines that let him know just how bad it was. She lifted her hands, seeming surprised when they weren't covered in blood. Turning her face slightly, her skin so pale it was nearly translucent, she said, "It hurts. It hurts, Sirius."

Something about the way she said it let him know she believed them. Believed that he was real. Sirius just wished she could have done that without being sickened by pain.

He picked her up and she slumped against his chest, hands still over her stomach like she was afraid her guts would fall out if she didn't. Before he could say anything, Persephone waved her hand and a low couch sprang up out of nowhere.

Gently, he lowered her to the cushions, kneeling in front of her.

Her eyes were huge and pain-riddled, but something else was shining in their grey depths.

"You're coming to get me."

It wasn't a question. He had to answer.

"Yes," he nearly growled, cradling her face. She placed a hand over one of his, closing her eyes like she was savoring his warmth.

"I should have known," she said with a weak laugh, brushing her fingers over his mouth. "The you in my dreams doesn't really... talk."

He smirked, then scowled. It should seem impossible to be jealous of his dream-self, but he was.

"Kill him."

Sirius blinked once, not sure if he'd heard her correctly.

But then she was staring at him, fierce and demanding. "I don't care what you have to do," she hissed. "I want Theron dead. I want his blood on my hands for a change. I don't care what it takes. I don't care how ugly it gets."

Relief seeped through the cracks in his heart. He nodded sharply.

Bass-heavy music floated around them.

"You're waking up," Persephone warned. "I won't be able to hold either of you much longer."

Galloway's fingers clamped down on his arm like a vice. "I love you, Sirius. You need to remember that. And then you need to hurry."

"Don't worry," he said, voice strained, not sure if this was a lie. "I'll get you out of there. I swear on you."

The music grew louder. The smell of his own blood filled his nose.

Not sure if it was a good idea—if it would hurt more than it would help considering her mental state of moments ago—Sirius laced his fingers through her hair.

She let out a needy gasp and crushed her mouth to his, her arms wrapping around him. Ragged nails cut into his back through the t-shirt and he moaned. His hands went to her waist, fingers sliding over thin silk.

His claws came out of their own accord, aching to slash the expensive material to ribbons around her.

He had a split second to think things might get rather awkward when he woke up at Valentia's as she tangled the fingers of one hand in his hair, the other sliding down his chest. Then there was the ear-shattering sound of something like glass breaking.

"No!" Galloway screamed as they were torn apart.

He reached forward but she was gone. 

His vision went black and when he opened his eyes, he was alone.