"But damn you cut close to the bone."

-Turnpike Troubadours

                                                                            ***

His eyes were glued to her car. It sat there in the sun, darkly innocent, like it was waiting for its beloved owner. Phantom images flickered in the tinted windows: Galloway looking at him with exasperation. Galloway watching him suspiciously as he drove. Galloway leaning over to kiss him, her blonde hair spilling over the side of her neck.

Ice had replaced the blood in his veins, and Sirius was afraid that if he moved, he'd shatter into a million more pieces. 

It was a bitter pill to have to admit that he was not going to be able to do this by himself—to admit that he needed any help, but especially the Hunter's help.

Sirius exhaled slowly, almost surprised when his breath didn't frost in the scorching air. He flinched to the side when it felt like fingers were running through his hair. Her voice whispered, I need you.

He didn't know what was worse: when the Darkness screwed with him, or when his own mind did.

Spinning around, not taking the time to guard his expression, he said, "You need to help. I need you to help." He shook his head, realizing that was the wrong angle. Steeling himself, he said, "Galloway needs your help."

Caleb's mouth pressed into a disgusted line. Harshly, he said, "What makes you think I need you?"

"Have you ever been to Hell?" Sirius asked, menace accidentally slipping into his tone. Caleb narrowed his eyes, but shook his head. Looking at him with keen eyes, Sirius said, "You wouldn't survive two seconds down there without me, much less have a chance of finding her and pulling her out in one piece."

The Hunter crossed his arms, staring suspiciously at him. Sirius just stared back, trying to ignore the Darkness telling him that it was pointless. 

Finally, Caleb sighed, his arms dropping down to his sides. "Why should I think you aren't going to turn around and murder me as soon as you get the chance?"

Now Sirius rolled his eyes. What made the Hunter think he was important enough to spend the time and energy it would require to kill him? Shaking his head, all he said was, "If you're dead you can't help me get her out of Hell."

That seemed to be the appropriate response. The Hunter spent a few more seconds staring at him suspiciously. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up in a humorless, insidious smile.

Out of habit, Sirius watched Caleb's hands as the Hunter walked over to him, though he couldn't bring himself to really treat him as an actual threat. Even as fast as he was, the Hunter was still slow by Sirius' standards. To be fair, he realized that his training had been a little more intense than Caleb's ever had the opportunity to be.

That's what tended to happen when you were from a world of gods and devils. 

Still, he half expected the Hunter to at least attempt  sticking something made of silver between his ribs. Sirius was almost disappointed when all Caleb did was edge past him and say, "You're the one who has to tell Logan."

When Sirius just blinked slowly, the Hunter scowled. Running a hand through his dark brown hair, he stalked farther out into the bright sunlight. Stopping next to her car, he let his eyes slide over the vehicle. Sirius growled, making the Hunter's gaze flick back to him.

Scowling, he said, "You got the keys?"

"Why?" Sirius asked, instantly defensive.

"She would kill me if I just left it here," Caleb snapped back. 

Sirius' defensiveness immediately turned to vicious anger. He slid his hand into his pocket, tightening his fingers around the keys. His fangs stabbed into his lip again, and the Darkness just inside the doorway to the warehouse clamored after him. It begged him to call it forward, to let it wrap around him, to let it rearrange his bones into a shape that suited his rage.

He turned his head away, looking at the sun-bleached concrete instead. Trying to keep himself together, he growled, "I know. I..." He had to stop and take a breath. "I'm well aware of her...attachment. I had no intention of just leaving it."

Caleb just blinked once at him, then started to walk away. Sirius clenched his hands, his claws reopening the barely healed puncture marks from earlier. "So that's it?" he demanded, even as his panic rioted inside of him. "You're just walking away."

The Hunter turned and gave him a dry look that seemed to question Sirius' intelligence. Gesturing toward the street, he said, "I'm getting my truck, dumbass. I told you. We'll need more people. And you still have to tell Logan."

It took Sirius a long moment to realize what was being said. When it clicked, a breath gusted out of him and he very nearly hit the ground again.

A brief spark of hatred flickered in his chest. The Darkness whispered, Look at this pathetic thing she's turned you into. You used to be so much more than this. You could be that again.

He hissed, warning it away. The hatred was easily drowned in the realization that having her back would take the weakness away. That he wouldn't be so constantly tempted with the idea of destroying himself and everything else around him when he could bury his face in her thick blonde hair. That his savage edges would be immediately soothed as soon as she pressed her mouth to his.

His eyes blurred again and he blinked, wondering terribly if he wanted her free for her sake, or just for his.

"It'll take a few days to get back to Logan's and we'll need to stop in Cedar City to hook up with a few friends." Caleb stopped talking to glare at Sirius, like he was challenging him to argue. When all Sirius did was nod, he said, "How long does she have?"

Sirius' hands trembled, ghastly memories teasing at the edge of his mind. His breath hissed out of him and he had to look away from the Hunter. Slowly, he said, "I don't know. It's—"

"I thought you knew everything about Hell?" Caleb asked, sarcasm thick.

Sirius' eyes slid back to the Hunter, staring at him heavily. A growl built in his chest, but he refrained. His voice tight, he said, "I don't know because time moves differently in Hell. It can stretch days into years, months into decades. She's been gone three days already. They've been t-tor..."

He couldn't even get the word out. The world swayed around him, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. He was on his knees again and the only reason he knew he'd fallen was that he found himself looking up at the Hunter.

Bracing his hands on his legs and bowing forward slightly, he forced himself to inhale slowly through his nose. The sunlight-gasoline-cinnamon-silver smell of her blood still on him let his lungs expand properly. After another breath, he no longer felt as though he'd be violently sick. 

His eyes glued to the cracked cement beneath him, he whispered, "By now they've been able to run through the gauntlet. Everything you can imagine, and so much more that you can't."

"So what does that mean for us?" Caleb asked, his face pale, his eyes hollow and haunted.

That expression angered Sirius, malevolent frustration bubbling in his stomach. What right did he have to feel anything about her? She wasn't his. She might have cared for him, but that was only because she cared. Not because she needed him.

The Darkness laughed.

Sirius managed to drag himself to his feet again and walked slowly toward her car. He opened the driver's side door before he looked at Caleb over the roof. Rapping his knuckles a little too hard against the metal, he said, "It means that we need to get to Cedar City so we can meet these friends of yours. Then we need to go to Hell."

Caleb's expression darkened a little, but all he said was, "First you need to get cleaned up."

Sirius sighed internally, wondering why it bothered him so much. It wasn't like the blood was all over the Hunter. What did he care if Sirius was covered in the stuff.

All he did, though, was nod. "Where?"

He didn't want to linger over the thought that he was reluctant to wash the only thing left of her away. 

If he moved in just the right way, her scent would hit him all over again, and he could imagine for half a second that she was just standing right behind him, about to wrap her arms around his waist. About to press her soft lips to the side of his neck. About to whisper that all she wanted was his hands on her body, then graze her teeth against his ear because she knew that drove him crazy.

He was saved from the de-evolution of that thought when Caleb said, "I got a room at a place a little ways away from here. You can shower there, then we can go."

The idea of leaving this wretched city and finally starting to do something sent a rush of sweet energy fizzing through his veins. But as rapidly as his mood rose it came crashing back down, and he stopped halfway into the car.

"Wait," he croaked.

When Caleb kept walking toward the street, Sirius snarled and ran after him. His claws extended before he could stop them, hooking into the Hunter's wrist when he grabbed him, the skin tearing as he jerked him to a halt.

There was no hesitation as Caleb used the velocity of Sirius turning him to whip around, fist raised. Sirius turned his head at the last second, the blow merely clipping his jaw. The fist was followed by an elbow that Sirius saw out of the corner of his eye. He leaned back, but not far enough, and the elbow caught just the corner of his cheekbone.

A dull ache spread under his eye, and he stared blanky toward a point over the irate Hunter's shoulder. He saw the all too telling tense of Caleb's shoulders, the way he shifted his weight toward his right leg ever so slightly. He didn't move.

Caleb's fist crashed into his cheek, right next to the corner of his mouth, and Sirius was surprised when he staggered to the side, his ears buzzing a little. He shook his head, and her voice said, You didn't have to let him hit you.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Caleb took a step back, and knew he'd made the right choice. Now the Hunter would have it out of his system. Besides, what did a few very temporary bruises on the outside matter anyway when he was hemorrhaging very permanently on the inside. 

He wiped the Hunter's blood off the tips of his finger onto his jeans. "We need to find a demon."

Caleb's cold look melted away into confusion, but then he scowled. "What?"

His throat felt like he'd been eating sand when he said, "We came here to find out what a demon blade will cost."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "And what's the price tag?"

"Demon blood," he rasped. "She wants demon blood."

The Hunter blinked, then blinked again before his mouth twisted in disgust. "Who wants it and why?"

Sirius shrugged. "I didn't ask. I don't care."

"Who wants it?" Caleb repeated the first half of his question, oh-so-righteous judgement dripped from his tone.

A shadow that had yet to be banished by the sun clung to the side of the building. Quietly enough that if Sirius wasn't careful he'd mistake it for his own mind, the shadow whispered, The one you left her alone for. It's just proof that it's all a lie. That's what you're good at, after all.

Sirius hissed lightly, warning the Darkness, but all it did was laugh. The sound was slippery and seductive, like silk over skin. 

He jerked his attention back to the Hunter, who had followed his gaze to the side of the building. Caleb frowned, then watched Sirius from the corner of his eye. Clearing his throat, he said, "Her name's Valentia. She's..." Sirius trailed off, searching for a way to describe the woman. He finally just said, "A dealer."

"Of what?" Caleb asked, his voice flat and unpleasant.

"Of anything that will turn a profit," Sirius snapped, his non-existent patience wearing very thin.

Caleb gave him what Sirius recognized as a warning stare. It irritated him that the Hunter could almost exactly replicate the expression she had given him on multiple occasions.

His mouth thinned down, but all he said was, "She dabbles in supernatural substances and sells them to humans."

"And you want to give her demon blood?" Caleb said, voice rising with indignation. "Are you crazy?" Sirius gave him a dry look, and the Hunter shook his head vehemently. "No. No way."

An ugly smile curled the corner of Sirius' mouth. "You're right. I'm sure Galloway would much rather stay in Hell than risk a few humans poisoning themselves."

Caleb flinched, his face blanching again. He looked vaguely sickened, and Sirius couldn't help but smile wider. On some level of consciousness that had been created by Galloway, he knew he was being terrible and cruel. 

But he wanted to be terrible and cruel. 

That was easier than actually allowing himself to think about what they were doing to her.

Pushing harder, wanting to cut the Hunter to pieces, he said, "They'll carve into her over and over again, but I'm sure you'll sleep better at night knowing that you prevented some—"

"Stop!" Caleb hissed, raking a hand through his hair. "I get it, okay?"

"Good," Sirius growled, turning around and walking back to the car. Over his shoulder, he called, "Get used to it."

He didn't need to turn around to know that Caleb was giving him a sour look—he could feel it prickling over his skin. With a sigh, he fell into the driver's seat of her car, looking at the streaks of rusty red on the backs of his hands, staining the beds of his fingernails.

Shaking his head, he thought that he heard a soft, familiar sigh coming from his right, but he didn't turn his head. He couldn't bear the disappointment of looking, just to find himself completely alone.

He started the car, then waited until Caleb drove past before he turned onto the main road, following the Hunter's truck. It occurred to him that it was a good thing he had someone to follow, since he couldn't bring himself to actively navigate his way through the city.

Instead, he turned his reluctant thoughts toward what it would take to capture a demon. They could probably find them easily enough here in the aptly named Sin City, but that didn't answer the question of how they were going to be able to keep one contained long enough to bleed it.

With a weary sigh, Sirius realized that would probably be another sticking point for the Hunter and his sickeningly noble sentiments. Briefly he wondered why Hunters even cared. Humans died all the time; what did it matter if it was from a supernatural cause? Still, he had spent enough time with Galloway to know full well that Valentia's payment would birth potentially multiple arguments. 

Valentia didn't just want a vial or two of the stuff. She required gallons. Four, to be precise.

Why, Sirius didn't know, nor did he care. He'd agreed before he'd thought through the logistics and couldn't renege now.

Four gallons meant four people at least were going to have to die, a gallon per meat suit.

The Hunter's problem, Sirius supposed, wouldn't be that a demon would have to die. It was that they'd have to bleed the human they were inside dry before they could kill whatever Hell-bitch was wearing the poor sap.

The real problem was keeping the demon inside long enough to get the blood. If they smoked out halfway through, then half the blood would be unremarkably human and utterly useless. 

Sirius just had to hope that she was worth more to this Hunter than a couple humans he didn't know from Adam. Or Eve as the case may be.

Are four innocent lives really worth mine? she whispered and Sirius growled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. 

That was a stupid question. She should have known—whether she was really there or just a strange, guilt-inducing hallucination—that she was worth much more than four humans. Hell, he would have bled the world and himself dry if that's what it took to free her.

Sirius scowled at the tailgate of the truck in front of him, growing impatient as the minutes started to stretch longer. He'd had two days' worth of down time since she'd been taken—left to the mercy of the Darkness—and had very quickly learned that the silence was not his friend.

Not that he'd particularly ever cared for the silence before, and doubly so after meeting Galloway. But that was just because he liked the sound of her voice. Not high-pitched and girlish, but self-possessed and feminine, with a husky edge to it that he was sure she hadn't a clue about.

His mouth pressed into a painful line. It was a bad idea to think about her. He couldn't help it.

While Galloway had obviously known she was pretty, he knew she had no idea just how devastatingly beautiful she was. He hesitated over thinking about it, but as always, what he wanted quickly won out over what was good for him.

Against his negligibly better judgement, he thought about the first time she'd kissed him. Really kissed him, months and months ago, after her witch had patched her up from her bout with the Collector spell. He'd been so relieved that she was okay, but hadn't understood why it mattered so much to him.

The result of his confusion had been a weirdly sexy fight and her not backing down from his dare. Sirius hadn't really expected her to give in. He'd expected her to tell him to fuck off and punch him in the mouth.

Instead, she'd given him one of those furious stares before she'd buried her hands in his hair, dragging his mouth down to hers. Even now he could practically feel how rigid she'd been at first. Tense and angry.

Then—Sirius shivered a little even thinking about it—then she'd given this little sigh he was sure was unconscious, and he'd lost all control. She'd turned soft under him, her body molding easily to his. Hungry and demanding.

And God, the taste.

All he'd wanted to do was rip her clothes away to find out if the rest of her tasted as good as her mouth.

She wasn't sweet. That wouldn't have been enough to hold his attention. Instead, she tasted of things that he'd never particularly cared for before. Sunlight and silver. Honey and cinnamon. The tang of gunpowder and the sweet burn of gasoline. Everything she was distilled into a scent and taste that had snapped a leash around his senses and refused to let go. 

Something rich and heady—a wicked concoction designed specifically to make him take things too far. Created to make him fall.

He'd rapidly come to the conclusion that kissing her, letting her kiss him, had been a drastic mistake. But her arms had been around him, and her teeth had been on his collarbone, and every other thought process had been short-circuited. 

Sirius wanted to close his eyes, but wouldn't risk her car. He'd started and now he couldn't stop, despite the fact that the memory was cutting down to the bone.

It hadn't helped that he'd wanted her since he met her. Overwhelmed by the color and light of her Soul down in Hell, he'd had his breath taken away when they had been teleported back to Earth, and he'd actually been able to focus and see her physical body.

With kiss-me-now lips and legs for days, she'd easily been one of the most gorgeous, enchanting creatures he'd ever come across. And he'd once spent an entire year in the presence of Persephone and her flower-maidens. (Though not many of them had stayed maidens for long).

She'd fixed him a drink and been amused by his threatening lie. Sirius briefly entertained the idea that sleeping with her then and there would have satiated his lust. 

He knew better. In reality, the more of her he got to have, the more he wanted. 

He forced himself to inhale, the sound shaky and pitiful. She was gone. Gone. 

And it was his fault.

Sirius was so distracted that he very nearly missed the turn the Hunter made, and scrambled to catch up. He ran a red light, earning himself a rude gesture from a bald man in a Maserati.

With relief and dread, he followed the Hunter into the parking lot of a shabby looking motel. He almost rolled his eyes, but then he was plowed into by a wave of nostalgia. He had no time or ability to be snobbish when he was trying to keep himself from drowning in a riptide of foreign emotion. 

He couldn't believe that he'd actually enjoyed this sudden ability to care.

Before, he'd thought it was interesting, satisfying even. He'd been enraptured by the feelings, not merely the sensations. Most beings didn't realize that there was a difference because they had been lucky enough to be born with both.

He'd enjoyed the sensation of her mouth on his, her fingernails digging into his back, her soft skin and supple body. He loved her.

And he'd caught himself wishing that he'd never been shown that there was a difference.

Now, he realized that he had not been made with the ability to deal with these emotions. Not without someone else around to temper them. Not without her there to calm the storm, or brighten it at the very least.

He got out of the car, the sunlight burning his already aching eyes. Caleb opened his mouth, then frowned, leading Sirius to a far room. He unlocked the door, then stood to the side in silence.

Sirius went inside and walked directly into the bathroom, ignoring the slight mildew scent. Forcing his mind to empty, he shed his blood-stiff clothes and shivered violently as the cold water assaulted him.

He stared blankly at the streaky wall, refusing to watch her blood swirl down the drain.

It was like having an everlasting heart attack, he decided. His chest hurt all the time. He tipped his head back, the now warm water washing her blood from his face. His throat was too tight.

His mind had run away with him, and he couldn't stop imagining what kind of damage they were doing to her perfect body.

He wanted to stop. He couldn't.

If he'd known how deeply she'd cut him, he might not have handed her the knife in the first place.