"In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present."

- Francis Bacon.

                                                                                 ***

Her eyes were trying to drag themselves closed by the time Sirius stopped the car. The sun was peeking over the edge of the horizon. Her leg was bleeding, but not as badly as it had been two hours ago.

A door slamming made her twitch, then she twitched again when her door was flung open. When Sirius picked her up, she curled into him willingly. Her head lolled forward, resting against the side of his throat. It was tacky with Khali's blood.

She turned her head, rubbing her face against his shoulder. This did nothing but smear some of his blood on her, and she gave it up as a lost cause.

Darkness clung to her face and arms, making her shudder, and she opened her eyes to find them inside what appeared to be an empty house. Her gaze drifted over pictures of a family with two small children. Swallowing, she croaked, "We can't stay here."

"They're on vacation." His answer was terse.

"How do—"

"The smell is old and there isn't a car in the drive. They haven't been here for two days at least." Again, she caught a shortness in his voice that she couldn't quite decipher.

He's mad.

The thought drifted restlessly through her mind, but before she could really think about it, Sirius was setting her down on a couch. A white couch.

Galloway watched with some dismay as the cushions under her turned red. But she couldn't seem to find enough dismay to get up off the soft surface. She slouched against the pillows as he went into the wide open kitchen connected to the sitting room she was in.

She could easily see as he banged around through the cabinets, running water for a second before returning to her. "What are you doing?" she asked, blinking sluggishly. 

He didn't answer and another thought was beginning to worm its way through the fog of shock and blood loss. Hand trembling, she tugged two pieces of red-stained paper out of her pocket, holding them out silently.

"I don't need to see the details of what the Hunter did," Sirius said, voice toneless.

"S'not that," she slurred, the symbols blurring on the page. "Demons can't..."

She trailed off when he looked at the symbols with renewed interest. He grabbed the paper, squinting in an effort to make out the parts obscured by blood. His eyes flicked up to her. "You'll need to bleed for a bit longer."

Galloway tried to ask what he meant, then swore when he daubed his fingers into the wound on her thigh. 

"My blood won't work." He stood up.

She watched as he painted one of the symbols onto every window and door in the place, trying not to swear at him when he needed more blood.

Finally, when she was quivering with cold and pain, he sat on the low coffee table in front of her, done with his task. He glanced at the gash in her thigh and she followed his gaze, biting her lip to keep from moaning when the edges twitched and shivered, the nerves overwrought.

When he didn't move, she said, "You have to take the jeans off."

Mechanically, he pulled her boots off, but as soon as the denim brushed the wound, she shrieked, burying her face against his shoulder as her breath trembled in and out. Not making any sound, he let one claw slice along the seam of her jeans. He pulled the shredded mess away, and they both stared at the ragged edges of the cut. 

Distantly, she wondered why it hadn't started to heal yet. 

"You need to wrap it," she whispered when all he did was stare at the exposed wound.

Sirius' hands tightened into fists once, then relaxed and he sat down, methodically wiping away blood and winding strips of what looked like a torn-up bed sheet around her leg. By the time he was finished, Galloway was sick and shaking, sweat beading on her forehead.

He left for a second, then returned with a glass of what she hoped to God or whatever was booze. She drank greedily, disappointed to find water. Placing the half emptied glass on the table, she watched as blood started to leach through the light green fabric of the makeshift bandages. A little shakily, she asked, "Why didn't you know Khali was following me earlier?"

"It's called a phase shift," he said, voice obscenely even. "You force the shift, then stop halfway through. It's dangerous and uncommon. Darkness doesn't leave a scent. I didn't know until the last minute." He looked away from her, shoulders tight. "I didn't realize he was tracking you until I saw you in that...with the—" He cut himself off, snarling under his breath.

He's not mad, he's furious.

Her brain realized this in a way that made it seem unimportant. Slowly, she reached out, then froze when he moved away from her. His hands were in fists again, claws cutting hash marks into his palms.

She tilted into the side of the couch. "I had to let him go."

"No. You didn't." His voice was still very calm, but she could sense the rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"Killing him would have killed me," she said slowly. "He—"

"Not killing him will kill you," he snapped, interrupting her. He spun furiously, slamming his fist into the drywall. She stared at the dark hole he'd created, then his torn knuckles, then his face. 

Her eyes widened when he was suddenly in front of her. Dropping to his knees, he cupped her face. "Why do you care more about him than you care about me?"

There was a moment of silence. "What?" she asked blankly.

Sirius' eyes flicked back and forth between hers before he leaned in, crushing his mouth to hers. Galloway automatically raised a hand to bury her fingers in his hair. But the kiss was close enough to violent that it unnerved her. He pulled back for a second, then leaned in, pressing his mouth quickly to hers once, then again.

He sat back on his heels, agony plain across his face. "Letting the Hunter go—explain how that's not picking him over me."

What stopped her from snapping at him was how sincere he looked. How frustrated. Swallowing, she touched her mouth. "It wasn't about him."

He tilted his head, waiting for her to expand on that. She reached out, ignoring how he tried to pull away, resting her palm flat against his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into her touch. 

"I didn't let Caleb go because of him. I did it because I couldn't live with the idea of sending someone I care about to Hell."

His eyes snapped open and he jerked away, standing up. Before he could say anything, she said, voice very low, "Caring about him doesn't mean I don't love you, Sirius. It was a selfish decision on my part. He didn't make me do it. But nothing could have made me send him to the pit."

She frowned as he blinked rapidly, looking extremely confused. Then she realized what she had said. 

Sirius knelt down in front of her again, eyes very dark. "If Khali hadn't messed up and let go of the darkness, you'd be in Hell right now." His words were slow and precise.

Her heart stuttered and she nodded. "I know."

The grim smile he gave her made a shiver skitter down her spine. "But you don't understand what that means."

"I've seen the pit, Sirius." She gave him a challenging look. "I've seen what it did to you."

Flatly, he said, "If I had been there a second too late and found you not there and the Hunter still alive, I would have killed him. Because it would be his fault."

She didn't know what to say to that and tried to look away, but he grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. He ran a clawed thumb over her bottom lip. 

"How do I get you to understand that it was wrong," he muttered.

Galloway let out a harsh laugh. "Wrong for who?"

Anger flared in his eyes. "You, for one," he snapped. "And me, for another. I don't... I can't... I fucked up and you're all that's left." 

Not giving her the chance to respond, he pulled her to her feet and started leading her toward one of the bedrooms. When she resisted, he hissed, "You need to sleep so that will heal."

She hated when he made an argument she couldn't deny. He nudged the door open and helped her to the bed, letting her fall onto the mattress. He turned to leave, but she snatched at his hand. He stopped, not looking at her. 

"Stay."

"I need to keep an eye out in case those angel markings of yours don't actually work," he said, jerking away like her touch burned him.

She lurched upright, indignant. 

Sirius shook his head, pushing her back down. "Sleep it off."

Taking advantage of him being so close, she snaked her arms around his shoulders. "I'll sleep if you stay," she whispered.

Sirius gave her a flat look, but when she didn't let go, he sighed. She loosened her grip and he crawled over her, his knee bumping into her thigh. She cringed, pressing her face into the pillows. When the pain had faded back into a distant throb, she inhaled deeply, staring up at the ceiling.

She tried to roll over to look at him, but Sirius stopped her by placing a hand on her hip. With a sigh that sounded less than pleased, he wrapped an arm around her waist, her back resting against his chest.

"Sleep."

Galloway contemplated this. Her body begged her to listen, but her mind preferred to be stubborn. She managed to wiggle around until she was facing him. His claws poked out for a moment, pressing into her back before retracting.

Slowly, she lifted her chin until her mouth was touching his. She reached around him, hand pressing between his shoulder blades to keep him still. "You can be angry if that's what you need to be. I wasn't picking Caleb over you. If that was the case, I would have gone with him when he offered to take me."

Sirius' gaze came down to meet hers, a growl rattling in his chest. She pressed her lips to his, quieting him. "I didn't know what I was going to do until I was standing in front of him. But I knew that I couldn't let him die. Not that way. I'm sorry if you don't agree with that, but that's just the truth. If you want out, I won't hold that against you."

He gave her a look of disgust. "I don't want out, Galloway. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to want it. What I want is for you to be alive. What I want is to not be terrified that they're going to take you away from me."

She laughed and he raised an eyebrow. "Did I say something funny?"

Shaking her head, she brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. "Only funny in the context that something so...sweet, is coming from you. It's a little out of character."

He frowned. "I thought it was selfish. Therefore, in character."

"Yeah. But it's the kind of selfish that would get you lucky if I wasn't bleeding." She let her fingernails scrape gently down his back and he arched into it. He gave her a heavy look and she sighed. "I know it's still not okay. But it happened. I can't undo it."

"Not that you would if you could," he said, tone just a little spiteful.

She shrugged and he groaned quietly. Propping himself up on an elbow, he looked down at her. "I can't say that I thought it was worth it. But I'm not you. I wish I could understand, but I can't and all I can say is if you let yourself get killed, I'll murder you."

With some difficulty, she arched up against him, watching in fascination as his eyes instantly darkened with desire. Placing a hand on the back of his neck, she said, "Why don't you just kiss me before you pull something trying to figure out how to be considerate?"

Not missing a beat, he did just that, careful not to jostle her leg. Eventually, he pulled back, then ducked his head, lightly biting her neck. "I'm still less than thrilled with you," he said, lips still moving against her skin.

Closing her eyes, she smiled, starting to drift off. Her tongue clumsy with fatigue, she murmured, "I'm not spectacularly happy with myself."

                                                                       ~~~

The skin along the top of her thigh itching woke Galloway up. Sunlight was making an effort to shine through the thick green curtains and she sat up, fingers working at the knots of fabric around her leg.

She jumped when Sirius knocked her hands away, prying the knots loose to reveal a red line running the length of her thigh. It was still open, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore. She shuddered, remembering the gleam in Khali's eye as he'd torn into her. 

When the last of the bloody bandages had been tossed into a nearby waste basket, she rubbed gently along the line, trying to alleviate the itching sensation. A damp washcloth was dangled in front of her, and she looked up to find Sirius with dark circles under his eyes.

She leaned back on her hands and nodded at him. Sirius sat down and rubbed at the skin. The itching was relieved by the water and she sighed as she watched him, running last night through her mind.

"Why did you think I was picking Caleb over you?" she asked and his hand stilled.

Keeping his head bowed, he said, "You put his life over yours. You let him go, knowing they would take you for it, even if you didn't know the...larger ramifications. You'd let me suffer in favor of him walking free."

She gnawed at her lip, thinking she understood what he was saying. It was difficult to think her being taken to Hell would have such an impact on Sirius. It was a nice thought, but one that hadn't done much to influence her decisions the other night. Precisely because she had believed that she didn't necessarily mean to him what he meant to her.

Now, she was reevaluating that assumption.

Sirius blew out a breath and she sat forward, putting a finger under his chin. Reluctantly, he let her lift his head so that he was actually looking at her. 

For a moment, all she did was study him. As always, the first thing that struck her was his looks: eyes like sapphires and hair dark as sin, a fine, straight nose and cheekbones that weren't too sharp but pleasingly symmetrical. 

Then she took in his intensity. His power and his cruelty. Even now an edge of terribleness lingered in the set of his mouth and the angle of his eyelashes.

But there was something soft there. Uncommon and strange. Something lovely and it pulled her forward. Cautiously, she rose to her knees, then edged toward him.

When he didn't move, she settled herself in his lap, pressing just the tips of her fingers into the side of his jaw. Sirius looked up at her, his lips parted and she said, "The thing about humans is that they're complicated. Mostly because they end up caring for more people than they should, or caring for people they shouldn't. And I'm still pretty human, Sirius."

"The thing about Hellhounds is that they don't love anything, Galloway." Her eyes widened and his arms came around her, his face pressing into her chest. She shivered as his cool breath brushed against her skin and she pawed lightly at his hair. He choked out, "Except, it would appear that when they do, it is something all-consuming and terrible."

He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. Like he was beseeching some distant, unattainable star, he said, "All that's left around me is ashes and you. You've burned everything else to the ground. You are all I see, hear, think or feel. And that's probably not healthy."

"Not in the slightest," she breathed. In some ways, this was exactly what she wanted to hear. In others, it was strange and nearly uncomfortable for him to actually be saying them.

Sirius' mouth tugged into a poor representation of a smile. Bringing one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he said, "I'm having a difficult time understanding the concept of caring about more than one thing, so it's hard to get that you can care about both of us at the same time." He opened his eyes and his hand fell, realization dawning on him. He stood up, setting her on the floor. "Probably because I can only seem to care about the one thing. I don't have the sort of space that you do."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he stepped around her. Before he opened the door, he said, "I'm going to check the sigils."

Galloway nodded. The door closed behind him and she turned toward a bathroom. She flicked the light on, curling her lip at the reflection in the mirror. Turning the faucet on, she scrubbed away little flecks and smears of blood, wondering if she should call Logan.

She immediately dismissed the idea, sure the demons would be able to track that in some way. Or worse, would hurt the witch in an attempt to draw her out. Shaking her head at the abysmal situation, she turned back and limped into the bedroom. His words replayed in her head and she wondered what he meant by not having as much space as she did.

Then, she wondered if he was still mad about her letting Caleb go.

"They're fine," Sirius whispered in her ear. He wrapped his arms around her and she closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth coming from him.

They came back open when his fingers danced over the buttons of her shirt. Impatiently, he tugged it down and bit her shoulder a little harder than she thought was entirely necessary, but not so hard that she wanted to stop him.

"Sirius!" When he didn't so much as pause, she asked, "Really?"

He spun her around, stripping her shirt away. His mouth came to hers, voracious and demanding. Only when they were both breathing hard did he pull away to say, "I much prefer doing this to fighting with you."

He pulled her to the bed and fell onto it with her on top of him. He trailed his fingers up her spine, pupils dilating. "I want you, so..." He paused, then shrugged. "So I want you. Let me have you."

She brushed some hair out of her face. Shaking her head, she frowned. "So, just like that? We're not arguing anymore?"

He heaved a sigh, fingers now playing with her bra strap. He cocked his head. "Well, you're not sorry that you let him go and I'm not going to forgive you for doing it. So we can stay at an impasse, or..." He rolled over, pressing her into the mattress. "We can get over it and move on."

Her laugh came out throaty and amused. His tongue traced a pattern up her stomach. Her breath was jittery as she said, "We probably shouldn't do this here. We've already made a mess that will traumatize these poor people."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "So a little more damage won't really make much of a difference."

She couldn't stop herself from arching into him as his fingers slipped between her legs.

"Demons are chasing us. Now doesn't really seem like the time!" The last word came out high pitched and breathy. He was irresponsible, but he was talented. His mouth rested for a moment in the hollow of her throat and she had a little difficulty saying, "There are...o-other things we...cou-should...be doing."

He stilled for the barest moment, then shifted until his mouth was on hers. Her tongue glided carefully over a sharpened canine. He pulled away. "If I could, I'd spend a few years doing nothing but this."

She sighed, her body aching for the sheer pleasure he could provide. Sirius took that as a go-ahead signal.

Quite a bit later, they lay tangled up together. Sirius' head rested on her stomach, his finger drawing lazy shapes on her waist, occasionally exploring the ridges of a scar that was there. Galloway watched dust motes dance in the beam of light that managed to sneak past the curtains. She played with his hair, the texture silky against her skin.

He pressed a lazy kiss to her abdomen and she murmured, "Were you in my head when..?"

Sirius huffed out a laugh, sounding absurdly satisfied when she trailed off. His eyes stayed closed when he said, "Mm-hm."

She shifted and he raised his head. He explained, "I'm afraid the idea of experiencing what you were feeling on top of what I was feeling was too tempting."

Biting her lip, she said, "Okay, I'll bite. What was that like?"

He closed his eyes, pillowing his head on her stomach again. "Like getting religion, I suppose."

"Shut up," she said, laughing. "You don't even know what religion is, you heathen."

Sirius made an amused humming sound. "One of the best highs I've ever had."

She pursed her lips in consideration. It sounded almost dangerous. He nodded and she realized she could still feel his consciousness brushing gently against her own. Tentatively, she opened her mind farther and he looked up, shock flashing over his face. Surprise flooded through her when she felt him pull away.

Sirius sat up, then stretched out next to her. Rolling over to face him, she tucked the sheet around herself, grinning when he glared at the fabric with distaste. He traced her cheekbone. 

"Tell me something you've never told anyone. Not even your witch." When she raised an eyebrow, he said, "I want to pretend like you just belong to me for a second longer."

She bit her lip and his fingers slipped down to her mouth, sketching its outline. "Tell me why you wanted to feel what I was feeling," she bargained.

"Easy," he scoffed. "It's because I haven't got a single, solitary idea about why you even deign to look at me."

"Well," she said, tone considering, "you're not particularly hard to look at."

He gave her a dry look. "Did you know the first thing a Hellhound sees about a person is the color of their Soul?"

"They're blue," she said with a shrug. "Or white."

"To you," he explained. "I see a person in their most distilled form before I register anything else."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, just for Sirius to pull it free, winding it around his index finger. He sighed. "You have complex colors. More than most people. It actually took me a while before I could see your physical body beyond those colors. Most people have three colors max. You've got seven."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I have no idea," Sirius admitted. "But it answers your original question."

"Why you were in my head?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. When he nodded, she said, "Actually, it explains nothing. It's interesting, but not explanatory."

He rolled his eyes. "Hellhounds don't have any colors. Just black. Hollow and empty." She was still lost and he could obviously see that. He kissed her collarbone. "You're seven flavors of existence and I'm nothing."

"Are you saying you don't have a Soul?" she asked.

He shook his head. "We have something. I think. I just don't know if it's a Soul in the usual sense. But it's why I wanted to be in your head." He paused and struggled with his confession. Turning his face away from her, he admitted, "It seems categorically impossible that something like you could even see something like me."

"I can't see a person's Soul while they're still alive," she said softly. 

"I think I'm saying this wrong." He frowned. Slowly, he began, "It's not...in a Hellhound's nature to really feel anything with the depth that humans do. But the universe, in its infinite cruelty, makes us lust after the idea of actually feeling something. So we resort to pretty much anything, trying to chase after some sort of sensation. Sex, drugs, murder... Anything that will fill the void. Anything that will shed light on the darkness. But we're never successful."

Her lips parted in horror at the thought of that kind of emptiness. He smiled and tugged her closer. "But you, for reasons beyond me, have shed some kind of light. I was in your head because...because it's intoxicating in the most satisfying way possible to truly know that you feel something for me and that magnifies what I'm feeling. Then I realize that I'm actually feeling something, and it's such a new thing that I can't bear to let it go."

When she blinked at him, he groaned and rolled over until he was pinning her down, his hands wrapping around her wrists. "It's like starving for centuries and finally finding something that fills your stomach. Like dying of thirst and finally finding water. It's this visceral sense that I'm actually alive, rather than just another piece of meat walking around."

She smiled, then pressed her lips together, trying to stop it. But she couldn't and giggled. He raised an eyebrow and she said, "I think you've seen one too many horrible romance movies."

He growled and flopped down next to her again. He grumbled, "Don't mind me. I'm just baring the core of my existence here. Oh." She looked at him. Wonderingly, he said, "That's it. That's what you are. I don't have a Soul because that's what you are. If I already had one, there wouldn't be any place for you."

"That's a little much," she said, a bit alarmed. But she couldn't ignore how certain he seemed of that. She wasn't sure how she felt about the idea of him thinking of her in that way.

He just shrugged. "Call it what you want. Doesn't make it less true. I realize it's completely nuts, I just don't care."

"You could have just said you love me," she muttered.

"It's a small word," he said carelessly. "It's not big enough to explain that you've created something out of nothing inside of me. Being inside your head when you were thinking and feeling the things you were, then realizing I was somehow responsible for that...I suppose that would be like you talking to God and realizing that He made you because...He would enjoy your company."

"Oh," she said, the sound very small. That seemed like a lot to take on.

"Your turn," he prompted.

She stared at him for a long time before she remembered what he had asked before the conversation had taken on the weight of an entire planet. Biting her lip, she tried to think of something that could satisfy his request.

Her mind hooked on a memory so important she instantly balked, just out of pure habit. Then she took a breath and said, "When I was seven, a year before my family was killed, my father took me on a camping trip." She smiled slightly. "Just me and him. I was so happy that he didn't take anyone else."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "That's it? The one memory you've never shared with anyone else?"

She shushed him, placing her hand over his mouth. Closing her eyes to rein in her emotions, she said, "Dad wanted to explain to me what being a Hunter was about. At that point, I was just interested in the mechanics of it, not what it really meant." She opened her eyes. "He said it was something sacred. He said we were guardians of this world, picked by God Himself. There was something so special about our Souls, that we were the only humans that could look into the abyss without fearing the possibility of it looking back."

Sirius swiped his thumb under her eye and she realized she'd started crying. 

Swallowing hard, she whispered, "But the thing that stuck with me the most was that, precisely because we had something magnificent about our fate, that we had to pay for it with a misery that no ordinary human could bear up under. I was seven years old and my father explained to me that my life would be nothing but sacrifice, but that my reward would be the knowledge that, in a world where most people don't matter in the grand scheme of things, I was important. That I meant something, even if no one else knew about it."

Sirius kissed her and she sighed into his mouth as he drew her back into the present. He kissed her for a long time, nothing pressing or urgent or intense about his actions. The kiss was just comfort, just a reminder that he knew, even if no one else did.

When he pulled back, she said, "We should probably think about getting out of here."

He sighed. "If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer if we dispensed with the whole 'sacrifice' thing. That's what got us here in the first place."

Galloway gave him a sad little smile. "That's what you get for wanting a Hunter."