"I know of no way of judging the future but by the past."

- Patrick Henry

                                                                          ***

Sirius sat up, staring at the Hunter. The skin around Rick's eyes and mouth was tight and bloodless, looking a whole lot less than pleased. 

Then Sirius laid back down. "No."

The shock in Rick's voice was almost priceless. "What?"

Listless, Sirius answered, "You don't mean it. You won't go against Caleb, and we both know that. Besides, hunting demons isn't something to dick around with."

"I know that," Rick hissed. "This isn't exactly my first rodeo here." He stood up and poured himself another glass of whiskey. He gulped it down, then slammed the glass against the table. "The hell, Fido? I thought she was important to you."

"She is," Sirius said, his voice a low warning growl. "Which means I'm going to do what I can by the book, and everything else with the utmost care. I'm not screwing this up again."

"Again?" Rick asked, his sudden curiosity searing into Sirius' skin. Then he barked out a laugh. "Oh, you mean the fact that she's in Hell at all."

The growl went from a warning to a threat, and Rick narrowed his eyes. His hand going to the small of his back, he said, "It's not my fault you fucked up and lost your girl, Fido. I'm just here offering some assistance."

Sirius' jaw tightened, and he looked away from the Hunter, trying to get his raging temper under control. Keeping his words short and clipped, he said, "I didn't lose her. They took her."

"Whatever," Rick snapped. "I don't even care."

"Then why are you asking?" Sirius snapped back.

Rick pursed his lips, and Sirius sat up again a little gingerly. Blood had spotted through the bandaging right in the middle of his chest. The Hunter finally said, "Because it's my damn job to keep those fucking gates shut, that's why."

Sirius snorted. "You Hunters," he scoffed. "Think you carry the whole goddamn world, don't you?" Then he sighed. "This is different."

"How?" Rick demanded. "Because it's demons? Because the whole fucking world is at stake? Hate to break it to you, Fido, but been there, done that already."

"I sincerely doubt that," Sirius said, without giving it much thought. "You've never seen something as bad as this could get, and I know that because it's never been that bad."

"Who said it—" Rick cut himself off sharply. He went to the door and threw it open. "You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything."

With that, he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him, making Sirius flinch as the percussion thudded into his ears. He sat there, listening to the Hunter slam his way down the stairs, swearing under his breath. He heard the metallic flick of a lighter, and seconds later the acrid scent of cigarette smoke hit him.

He sighed, wishing with everything in him that Rick really would go behind Caleb's back, but he knew that would never happen. He'd seen too many like Rick, and knew they tended to die young, brave and loyal.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes then got off the bed, making his way carefully to the bathroom. Leaning heavily against the sink, he started to unwind what seemed like yards of blood-spotted bandages.

He dropped them into the sink, then stared at his chest. He couldn't see through himself to the bathroom wall, so that was probably a good sign. Mostly it was just like someone had taken an evil ice cream scoop to his chest, just to the right of his sternum. Bits of rib were still missing, and his lung hadn't completely healed, but as he watched, his body continued its work to put everything right.

Mostly healed, deep-purple lines fanned out from the hole in a strange pattern, across his chest and down his stomach. Cautiously, he poked at one of the lines, but nothing overly disgusting spewed out of it, save a little of his own dark blood.

He closed his eyes, focusing on how his body felt, trying to decide if any darkness had been left inside him. His eyes snapped back open when memories of the darkness pouring into him through the wounds it had inflicted made him feel sick and violated.

Knowing it wouldn't help anything, he turned the shower on.

In all honesty, he was shocked that he was even healing. Then he remembered how the darkness had needed to summon a blade for the killing blow, the likes of which he had never seen before. Black as obsidian, it had lacked the shine of the volcanic rock. Nor had it been blackened steel—it had seemed too heavy for that.

Sirius knew it hadn't been a demon blade, but he had no doubt it would have killed him. A shiver skittered down his spine as he realized truly how close he had come to dying that night. 

He swore not to let the darkness touch him again, staring at himself for another moment. His reflection didn't offer any comfort, and he finally stepped into the shower.

The water stung horribly on his arm. He hunched forward slightly to keep it from pooling in his chest. Dripping strands of hair hung around his face as he stared down at the bottom of the tub. Little black drops hit the white surface at random intervals.

Sirius stayed in until the water ran cold, then stood there a moment longer, letting the chill batter his skin and numb his physical pain.

The main door to the room slamming made him jump, having to catch himself on the grimy wall as his feet skidded over the slick floor. He swore, muttering under his breath about stupid Hunters and their refusal to stay someplace that wouldn't possibly give them some kind of flesh-eating bacteria.

Briefly he wondered if he could be affected by flesh-eating bacteria.

That thought had him quickly stepping out of the shower and drying off, dragging his once again blood-stiff clothes on.

Moving slowly, he made his way back out into the main room and found himself under Alex's keen stare. It singed at his skin, and he muttered, "Would you not look at me like that?"

She blinked, perplexed. He sighed as he settled back on the bed and explained, "You're a pure Soul. It burns when you look at me or touch me. So would you mind not doing it?"

"I'm a..." she trailed off, then scoffed. "Sure, whatever you say, buddy."

He didn't care for the disbelief in her voice, but just shrugged it away. His attention strayed to the TV, and Alex sat on the bed next to him, making him flinch. Slowly, she took his hand and started to unwind the damp bandages, revealing the four deep gouges in his forearm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.

"Making sure this doesn't get infected," she said, briskly swabbing at the cuts with a damp cloth that stung.

He couldn't help it when he barked out a laugh. She shot him a glare, and he tugged away from her burning touch. "It won't get infected."

When she raised an eyebrow and reached for him again, he rolled off the bed and stood up. Shaking his head, he said, "I'm fine. Thanks for the concern."

Before she could protest, before he could think about the fact that he didn't really have anywhere to go, he left the motel. Hot sunlight beat down on him and his eyes watered, but he sighed with relief. For the first time in his life, the light was preferable to the dark. 

He put his hands in his pockets, knowing people would look at the black stains on his clothes and assume it was oil or paint, and started to walk down the sidewalk. The hot, dry air made him quickly miserable, and he remembered that he hated the heat.

And the cold.

Both had been used in Hell to try and break him down to nothing after he had killed his previous Collector.

But the temperature didn't matter so much as the light did. 

The farther he walked, the more his body ached, but he didn't stop, winding through the city, not paying attention to where he was going.

Then a familiar scent hit his nose and he scowled, turning down a more abandoned street between a bakery and a dog grooming place. The irony of the second was not lost on him as he waited for them to find him.

Bitterly, he thought he should have learned his lesson last time to not go wandering around by himself.

A throaty chuckle found him first, and he looked up to see Persephone standing in the street, looking resplendent in an ankle-length dress with black irises on it. Her chocolate-brown hair flowed well past her shoulders down to the middle of her back, the perfect curls shot through with strands of pure gold. Her golden-brown skin was flawless, glowing with the subtle aura of immortality.

Two of her flower maidens stood approximately five feet behind her until she waved them off with a ring-encrusted hand.

The bloodstone on her left ring finger caught uncomfortably at his eye, and he grimaced, leaning against the wall of the bakery. When her handmaidens were gone, the goddess turned her full attention on him, the rich violet-purple of her eyes brightened by the sunlight.

Her rose-pink lips curved up into a smile. "Hello, Sirius. It's good to see you again."

"Lady Persephone," he said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. While not one of the more powerful or temperamental Olympians, it was nevertheless a good idea to stay on the Mistress of Spring's good side. 

She tilted her head toward the bakery. "Hungry?"

Sirius balked for a second, then nodded graciously. Persephone beckoned him forward and he slowly walked toward her. As soon as he drew near, her aquiline nose wrinkled and she placed a cool hand on his arm, making him hiss in pain.

Batting charcoal eyelashes that seemed absurdly long to him, she murmured, "You stink of darkness, Sirius. More than you did before."

"It's been a long time, Lady Persephone. I'm a lot older and much wearier than I used to be."

Gently she took his face in her hands. The smell of spring flowers drowned him. She stared up into his eyes for a long time, then, she placed her palm over his heart. He gasped as a pulse of magic spread from her hand throughout his body, then sighed when it soothed every ache and pain he had acquired in the past days.

She didn't heal him, but it did help.

"Wearier," she repeated. "And terribly lovesick. My, my, how you've changed."

He didn't know how to respond to that. Persephone narrowed those gorgeous eyes at him and asked, "What happened?"

Sirius' eyes burned with more than just sunlight, and he said, "It's a long story, my lady."

"And I have literally all the time in the world," she said with a sweet smile. She beckoned for him to follow her. "Please, come, have something to eat with me. You need it."

Without looking back, the goddess took off toward the front of the bakery, and Sirius had no other option but to follow.

Shaking his head, he hurried after the goddess, catching her just in time to open the door for her. She beamed another of those megawatt smiles at him, and he followed her into the small bakery.

When she pointed toward one of the small tables by the window, he merely nodded. He sat, the smell of bread, flour, sugar and cinnamon overwhelming him.

He stared blankly out the window until Persephone came back, one of the employees trailing her like a lost puppy, carrying a tray with coffee and pastries. The boy placed the tray on the table, his face slack as he stared at her.

Persephone offered him a smile, then made a small shooing motion at him. He turned around and went back to the register, looking for all the world like he hadn't just served the Queen of the Underworld coffee.

She settled gracefully into the chair, leveling a concerned gaze upon him.

He knew he was supposed to talk. And everything about Persephone made him want to share every last thought he'd ever had about Galloway with her. But he knew better than anyone how devious she really was.

People had been fooled for centuries by good publicity, seeing Persephone as the poor victim of Hades, a young girl stolen from her mother while picking flowers. In reality, the gods on Olympus had been embarrassed by the torrid affair between one of their brightest, most beloved daughters and the dark King of the Underworld.

Persephone had been banished to hide the whole unseemly ordeal. The problem was that none of them had thought of Demeter. The goddess had been furious at her daughter's banishment, and the whole world had paid for it.

So the sentence had been commuted somewhat to where Persephone was required to spend a few months of the year with her obsessive mother, the rest of the time spent with her husband. She was just as power hungry and cruel as he was, though she hid it better.

She smiled at him, taking a delicate bite of something flaky with a sweet glaze that hurt his nose.

Carefully, he said, "After you... gifted me to Theron, I was assigned to a Collector."

Persephone giggled, the sound girlish and innocent. "Yes, I remember. Hades was quite cross with me for at least a year. But it all worked out."

Sirius really didn't want to think too hard about how they had worked things out, so just nodded. Taking a sip of his coffee, which he found disgustingly sweet, he said, "The position didn't agree with me. I killed him."

The goddess glanced out the window, a small smile on her face. He continued, "I spent several hundred years as a plaything for some of the most twisted spirits in Hell, until finally Theron pulled me back out."

That smile never wavered.

She pushed a bear claw toward him, and he took a small bite of it, not registering the taste of the apples. He said softly, "They gave me to a new Collector. A woman named Galloway. She was... different, from other Collectors I had met and I..."

"You fell in love," Persephone finished for him, clapping with delight. He nodded stiffly and she sighed dreamily. Playing with the bloodstone ring on her left hand, she said, "A beautiful woman can tame even the most savage of beasts." She glanced at him conspiratorially. "I would know."

Bile rose in his throat, and he took another bite of the pastry in front of him, trying not to let on how desperately he did not want to talk or even think about what the Lord of the Dead and his wife might be doing behind closed doors. So instead, he asked, "What brings you to Paradise, Nevada?"

She sighed, her beautiful face growing pensive. Slowly, she said, "My husband."

Sirius grew still, his claws sliding out to tap minutely against the tabletop. He raised an eyebrow, and carefully asked, "What could Lord Hades need from this place?"

Persephone didn't answer him for a long time, a deep frown wrinkling the light brown skin of her forehead. His agitation grew as he waited, but he didn't say anything. Hades had been a touchy subject for Persephone ever since God had locked him and several other Underworld, old-world gods away eons ago.

Her lips pursed, and she said, "It's not only demons that want out of Hell, Sirius. And there have been rumors concerning yourself and your pretty, blonde Huntress."

The muscles in his shoulders tightened. Quietly, he asked, "What... rumors?"

Persephone's suddenly cold gaze met his. "I can still visit my husband. I am free to come and go as I please from that wretched place. But he is not. And that is something we have all been working to change for a very long time."

The world around him seemed to stop moving. Sound became warped and distant as he stared at the goddess, who sedately took a sip of coffee. He couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. Swallowing hard, he rasped, "This is... is because of Hades?"

He stood up so violently his chair went flying. Persephone didn't even flinch. Fury clawed at him, and before he realized what he was doing, his hand wrapped around her elegant throat, claws spilling golden ichor as he slammed her back against the window.

A sharp stab of pain in his lip let him know his fangs had lengthened as he snarled. He squeezed harder, wanting to crush her throat. To watch the light drain out of her eyes, so that her husband would understand the pain he had been living with for days.

Persephone didn't even bat an eyelash. She stared up at him, and managed, "Your Huntress wasn't Hades' idea. But Theron didn't let on that there was any other way to do it!"

Sirius slammed her against the glass, making it crack. She grabbed at his wrist, but he was physically stronger than her. He leaned over the top of her, her blood trickling over his fingers. Hatred darkened the edges of his vision. He snarled, "I don't care. If Hades had anything to do with it, I'm going to kill him too. Right after I spill your blood across the floor of this place."

Something akin to fear finally flashed in her purple eyes. Sirius' fingers tightened, and she started to choke.

"Wait!" she begged. "Please. I-I can help you!"

"I know what your help looks like, Lady Persephone. And I want no part of it." He dug his claws into the soft tissue around her windpipe. "There's nothing you have that I want."

"Then she'll die down there," Persephone gasped out. His claws pulled out of her skin as his grip loosened with shock. "Hades is her only chance at surviving the trip back up here!"

Sirius burst out laughing, the sound terrible and cruel. His fingers tightened again. Baring his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, he said, "Nice try, Lady, but I wouldn't help your bastard husband if my life depended on it. Tell all the lies you want, I can get her out all by myself, thanks."

Her eyes flashed red and Sirius found himself being thrown backwards, through the glass case displaying pastries and breads. He lunged to his feet, shaking shards of glass out of his hair and off his shirt.

Persephone's chocolatey hair had turned black, her eyes red. She bared delicate fangs at him and hissed, "Don't say I didn't warn you, Sirius."

Much to his surprise, the goddess disappeared in a swirl of black, sweetly scented smoke, leaving him standing there dripping blood and shards of glass. His breath puffed out and he shook his head, eyes searching the surrounding area for some sign of the goddess.

All he could smell was bread, blood and the lingering scent of spring flowers. She was truly gone.

Sirius sighed and picked his way out of the destroyed bakery, ducking through side streets until he found the motel again an hour later. He swiped a finger at the blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, then looked down to find his arms covered in little nicks from the glass that were just starting to close. 

His mind was a whirlwind of activity, trying to decide if what Persephone had said was the truth. That it wasn't just Theron trying to pop the gates for a worldwide demon takeover. That Hades, the deity he hated above all others, was responsible for her death. That he had been the reason her family and her life had been destroyed.

Which would mean both Theron and Hades had used him, again, to cause pain and destruction where she was concerned.

Sirius rubbed the back of his hand against his face again, wiping the slowing drip of blood away one more time. He started up the stairs, but was stopped when a voice asked, "Where did you go?"

He turned on the stairs to find Caleb standing by his truck, and wondered if the Hunter had been there the whole time he was lost in thought. That idea made him a little uneasy. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he shrugged and said, "Just went for a little walk."

"Why are you always bleeding when you come back?" Caleb moved closer, head cocked curiously.

"Something about me that just rubs people the wrong way, I guess," Sirius said. When Caleb snorted, he said, "I ran into Persephone. There's some bad blood there."

Now the Hunter's mouth gaped up. Shaking his head, he rasped, "Persephone. Is that the stage name for some stripper you pissed off?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. Caleb shook his head again, looking bewildered, and asked, "Just how old are you exactly?"

"I was born sometime around when Ancient Greece was a thing," he answered shortly. His past was not a favorite subject of his, so to cut this short, he said, "Persephone, as in the Queen of the Underworld, was the reason I was given to the demons. Originally I was meant to serve Hades, and Hades alone. It didn't work out, I ended up on the rack for a few hundred years, and then they gave me to..."

He trailed off, sighing and closing his eyes. Wearily, he muttered, "It doesn't matter anyway. She came here, she did what she always does, and then she left. Nothing more to it than that. What did you and Alex find?"

"What did she do?" the Hunter asked, looking suspiciously at the fresh bloodstains on Sirius' shirt.

Looking away, he said, "She lied. Because mindfuckery is a pastime for the bitch. It doesn't matter, because everything that comes out of her mouth is a lie." He glared at Caleb. "What did you and Alex find? And it better be good, Hunter, or things will get unpleasant."

"Because you're such a joy usually," Caleb mocked. He scowled, obviously still wanting to talk about Sirius' acquaintance with the goddess of spring, but all he said was, "We think we found a place one hangs out. Probably a Crossroads Demon, but you never said it had to be a specific kind of demon."

"It doesn't," he replied shortly, turning to walk up the steps. "A Hell-bitch is a Hell-bitch is a Hell-bitch. Doesn't matter which department they work for."

"What are you doing?" Caleb asked as Sirius reached the floor their rooms were on.

Sirius stared blankly down at the Hunter. "I'm getting your little girlfriend and her brother. Let's go get the demon."

Caleb calmly flipped him off, then said, "That's not how it works. We need to spend a little time figuring out what we're up against here."

"Pretty soon it's going to be me, Caleb," Sirius growled, leaning over the banister to glare down at the Hunter. "We go now, and we get something now, or else I start killing the people we find with demons riding shotgun, got it?"

Caleb paled a little, and Sirius turned, just to hit the floor to avoid a fist swung at his mouth. He rolled as a steel-toed boot stomped down toward his head. Sirius looked up to find Rick looking pissed. He thought he heard Caleb shouting.

Sick of these two, he sank his claws into Rick's calf, making the Hunter swear, and yanked his leg out to the side, unbalancing him. He spun around, still on the ground and kicked up, catching the Hunter in the chest with the heel of his boot.

Rick's breath wheezed out and Sirius got to his feet, just as Alex came out of one of the rooms, and Caleb came up the stairs.

Alex immediately ran to her brother, who straightened, glaring at Sirius. He spit at his feet and said, "You threaten him one more time, Fido, and you and me are gonna have a problem."

Sirius' teeth clenched, and his fury-tinged gaze landed on Caleb, who actually took a step back. Trying to stay in control and not disembowel the lot of them, he said, "We're going. Right now."

To his immense surprise, Caleb nodded slowly, shooting a warning glare at Rick when he protested.

Sirius balled his hands into fists, claws cutting his palms, and turned to storm down the stairs.

He heard Rick hiss, "What the hell, Caleb? I'm not bending over backwards to help that asshole. Not if he's going to keep saying things like that."

"Didn't you see his eyes?" Alex whispered.

Finally, Caleb muttered, "He's more dangerous than anything else we could be dealing with, Rick. He's unkillable at the moment, and he's unstable. So until we can get out hands on that demon blade, I think we need to play nice."

Sirius got into the truck, slamming the door behind him. His chest heaved with suppressed bloodlust and his hands were trembling with the need to kill something. 

They were damn right they needed to play nice.