"The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be."

- Socrates

                                                                                 ***

Galloway woke up to fingers prodding gently at her side. Opening her eyes with a frown, she looked up to find Caleb sitting next to her, peering under the makeshift bandages she'd wrapped around her side.

Scooting away from him, she demanded, "What are you doing?"

"Wondering why you don't have a couple bloody, gaping holes in you," he answered, standing up.

He didn't look any worse for wear considering his swim in the lake last night. His hair was damp with a recent shower and he was bare-foot, which seemed kind of weird yet somehow endearing to Galloway.

Her words stiff, she said, "Don't touch me. And that's what I get for being a little immortal."

Caleb looked away from her and got off her bed to sit on his own. He gnawed at the corner of his thumbnail. "How is someone a little immortal?" he finally asked.

She sat up and looked under the bandages herself to see that the claw marks from the wendigo had mostly closed and were scabbed over, the scabs thick and unappealing. 

Getting out of bed and pulling on the jeans Caleb had scrounged up for her, she said, "I can die, because I still have my Soul. Just not of old age. But it takes a lot of effort on the part of whatever"—she shot a glare at him—"or whoever wants to try and kill me." Then, she frowned, something occurring to her. "But you already knew that. Didn't you say you already knew how to kill a Collector?"

He smiled angelically. "I lied. I didn't even know they were actually, really real until I met you. Mostly Hunters just know about Hellhounds, but there's some lore to be scrounged up on your kind if you look hard enough."

She blinked, then rubbed at her eyes, wondering why he'd bothered looking. Caleb rolled his neck, the bones popping loudly enough that she could hear them.

"So, unless something's changed, can I go home now?" Galloway raised an eyebrow. Caleb frowned, obviously not pleased by the idea and she said, "If you want to know about what the demons are doing, you'll want to talk to Rhys. And if I'm not home relatively soon Theron will send someone looking for me and that won't be pretty. He expects me to be where I tell him I'll be."

"Obedient little Collector girl, aren't you?" Caleb mocked and she resisted the urge to throw a nearby coffee cup at his head. 

Instead, she hissed, "Well if you'd like to take my place on the rack, be my guest. Otherwise shut your mouth. Don't talk about things you don't understand, little boy."

Caleb bristled, but she continued, "We need to go anyway, unless you have some kind of hustle that works during the daylight hours. We could only afford the one room for the one night, right?"

Quietly, he asked, "Why'd you drop the lighter?"

She froze, her heart shuddering. Swallowing hard, she crossed her arms over her chest. "My fingers got cold. And then that thing startled me."

"You dropped it before the wendigo came," he said and she cursed silently, wondering how he could have possibly remembered that.

"My fingers were cold," she repeated blankly. She wasn't budging on this. He didn't really need to know that her accidentally thinking about Sirius had almost gotten him killed.

To her relief, Caleb nodded slowly. To her greater relief, he started putting on his boots and said, "So, who is this Rhys person and why does he know so damn much about the Hell gate or whatever this is all about?"

Galloway rolled her eyes, reluctantly picturing him in her mind. Pursing her lips, she bit at the inside of her cheek and said, "He's a witch who's kind of a friend...or at least the brother of a friend. He'll explain why he knows so much about it."

"You know," Caleb said dryly, "you can drop the air of mystery any time now. You don't sound so thrilled about talking to him."

She hesitated, then said, "Things with Rhys are complicated. And he's kind of an asshole. He and I had a...recent disagreement about—" She cut herself off sharply, then shook her head. "Some stuff."

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. He stood up to tower over her. "That bad, huh?" She raised an eyebrow and he clarified, "Sounds like bad sex to me."

Mouth dropping open, she stared at him as he smirked at her. Shaking her head, she curled her lip in a small snarl. "Not bad, just came with strings. Ones I didn't like."

Caleb's eyebrows jumped up momentarily but before he could say anything in response, she snapped, "The only thing you need or will know about him is that he can give you the answers you want."

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Okay. I just ask 'cause I was a little surprised. I was pretty sure you were banging the Hellhound so—"

He didn't see the punch coming any more than she realized it was being thrown. Her fist crashed into his mouth, making his head snap to the side. There was a moment of dead stillness, then he touched a finger to his mouth and it came away bloody. Her breath came in quick little gasps, her body shaking. 

Slowly, he turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth bright red where the lip had been split. Her nails dug into her palms as she struggled with her rage. Caleb dabbed at the cut with the sleeve of his jacket and said, "Got it. Won't bring it up again."

He said it like he meant to say him, but in reality she knew he had said 'it' on purpose. 

Spinning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, only distantly hearing the quiet click of the door and the footsteps following her. She got to the truck first, Caleb getting slowed down at the checkout desk, and looked down at her trembling hands.

She rubbed vigorously at the little spot of blood on her knuckle where it had met Caleb's face. Biting fiercely into her lip, she berated herself for being shocked by his nasty words. He was a Hunter. A pure Hunter, and she was just a monster masquerading as a person.

Just because they'd worked well together against the wendigo last night didn't mean they were suddenly best friends. She leaned against the truck, then shivered when she came in contact with the cold metal.

Sliding her hands into the pockets of her jacket, she turned, then froze. Her lips parted and fear like she hadn't felt in a while flashed through her.

Khali, the Hellhound they'd seen in New York, the one who seemed to have some kind of history with Sirius, was watching her from across the street. When he noticed that he had her attention, he crooked his finger at her, black claws gleaming in the sunlight, gesturing for her to come over.

Her heart thudded tumultuously in her chest, and she looked back to find Caleb was still talking to the man at the front desk. She bit into her lip, then put her head down and walked quickly across the street. 

The Hellhound was lounging casually against the side of a brick building. When she reached his side of the street, he turned and walked a little farther down the length of the alley behind him. Once more, she hesitated. She had no weapon. Even if Caleb tried to intervene, he'd never get over here before Khali killed her.

But she didn't seem to have much of a choice. Steeling herself, she stepped into the shadows of the alleyway, her nose wrinkling at the smell of trash and urine. Thankfully, Khali didn't go very far before he turned back to her.

His voice a deep bass growl she could feel in her chest, he said, "No need to look so scared."

"Who said anything about scared?" she immediately snapped, even as her heart sped up.

Khali grinned, the expression vicious, and laughed. "The smell." He leaned forward. "I'm just here with a message from Theron."

"Is there a reason Theron couldn't just call?" she asked, trying to convince her legs not to step back.

"He's a little busy right now. My brother's got a mouth on him that takes a little work to get around before he tells you anything useful." Khali smiled meaningfully at her and she had to step back, because it was either lean against the side of the building or fall.

"What?" she said faintly.

Khali grimaced, though he didn't look too terribly displeased. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the turmoil he'd caused. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I didn't expect that Siri would have told you about the fact that we both came from the same bitch. Probably makes you wonder what else he didn't share with you."

Galloway's fingers shook and she hid them in her pockets once more. "What's Theron's message?"

But Khali's attention had been caught by something across the street. He then looked back at her, smirking. "Who's the queer bait?"

She grimaced, her disgust rising in leaps and bounds. But he wouldn't care about her disapproval. Looking to the side, she found Caleb waiting by the truck, blatantly watching them. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind, his pretty features tight as he looked at them. Galloway supposed she should be lucky he hadn't already come over here.

Quickly, she said, "No one. Just some guy willing to give me a ride since those bastard demons totaled my car."

"Well, I hope you returned the favor," he said silkily, his tone making a shiver slip unpleasantly down her spine. 

Briefly, she wondered why everyone seemed so interested in her sex life, then shook her head. Through gritted teeth, she asked, "What is Theron's message?"

Khali licked his lips, the scar across his eye shimmering in the low light. With a sigh, he said, "Turns out that he'll actually have a new Hound ready for you in about three days. There are just a few things he needs to work out. Be at your apartment."

She wondered how the words work out could sound so similar to torture, then decided that was probably just an effect of them coming out of Khali's mouth. Curtly, she nodded and said, "Is that it?"

"Is there anything you want me to tell Siri? He's said so very much about you." Khali shrugged. "I mean, not willingly, but still."

The words were like a fist to her stomach and the air in her lungs blew out in a breathy whisper. Khali watched her, red eye glittering maliciously and she managed, "Not a thing."

Khali shrugged and turned, melting away into the shadows. Galloway sagged back against the wall before she straightened, walking quickly across the road to Caleb. Before he could open his mouth to ask, she said, "For some reason I've been given the courtesy of a D-Day clock. I've got three days to get you up to speed, so we need to haul ass to my place. Then you need to leave and never see me again." As an afterthought, she added, "Unless you've changed your mind about being a Hellhound's chew toy."

Caleb silently unlocked the car and didn't say anything more until they were past the town limits. Galloway rubbed her hands together, thinking about what Khali had said regardless of how much she didn't want to.

She wondered what he'd said—what they'd done to get him to say it. 

"That was another Hellhound, wasn't it?" Caleb asked, knocking her out of her thoughts.

Even though he couldn't have know what he'd done, she threw him a grateful look and said, "Uh-huh. And not a very pleasant one at that."

"Are any of them really pleasant?" he asked, his words sharp enough to cut glass.

"Some are better than others, just like people," she responded coolly.

"I won't bring the mutt up if you don't act like he's anything close to human or good."

"Human doesn't mean good, Caleb. They don't have a corner on the market. And you're not going to bring him up because if you do, that punch to the mouth is going to look like little more than a love tap by the time I'm done." Galloway turned to the window, her anger billowing easily into true fury, and tried to breathe it away.

He stayed in stony silence for about six miles, then said, "Can I call a truce?"

Her eyes flicked over to him and he kept his gaze on the car in front of him. With a sigh, she said, "Yeah, fine. But how about for safety's sake we just talk shop from here on out?"

"Fine with me," Caleb agreed, then said, "This guy Rhys, he's a witch?"

She was pretty sure she'd already said that, but answered him anyway.

"Yeah. He doesn't kill anyone, though." Galloway felt it best to establish very clear lines before the two of them met. She didn't need them trying to kill each other as soon as they stepped into the same room.

Caleb nodded, then asked, "Why does he know so much about the Hell gate? I mean, how does he know?"

She bit her lip, considering how to answer this. Then finally, she said, "I'm not sure that's my story to tell."

Caleb sighed wearily. "You are not making this very easy for me."

"Easy's a myth." She turned back to the window.

"Tell me how he knows or I'll assume it's because he's working with the demons and stock up on my witch bullets." Caleb got onto the interstate she had told him to head toward.

"Is this going to be a pattern? Are you going to threaten to kill all the people I know?" she asked, rubbing once more at the knuckle that had been momentarily painted in his blood.

"Not if I don't think I need to. Why does he know about it?" He gave her a sideways look.

"If I'm supposed to drop the mysterious act, why don't you drop the hard-ass one?" she asked, then shook her head. "He got suckered by a demon bitch. It happens to a lot of people, you'd probably be nauseated by the actual number."

She paused to look at him and frowned at his clenched jaw. The color had drained from his skin. Gnawing at her lower lip, she looked away from him and continued, "Anyway, he saw for himself what the demons were trying to do about a hundred years ago, give or take—"

"Wait, they've done this before?" he interrupted.

"More than once," she muttered. Hoping he would just assume Rhys had told her this, she said, "They've been trying it for centuries. Caged things don't like to be caged."

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest and her shoulders hunched in a little.

Caleb ran his hand through his hair, propping his elbow up on the window ledge. "Why hasn't it worked?"

She shrugged. "They don't have the right recipe yet, I guess. Rhys and Si—" She stopped, then said, "Rhys said that the ritual itself has been lost and stolen and stolen again. They've been trying to piece it together and he thinks they're finally getting close to having it figured out."

"Why do you know so much?" Caleb asked and she wondered why it had taken him so long to get to the heart of it.

Chewing nervously on her lip, she said, "I may or may not potentially be the final piece to the puzzle."

Caleb turned and stared at her for a long moment. She refused to meet his gaze, staring stubbornly out the windshield. He could make of that whatever he wanted to, she really didn't care. Or, at least, she didn't want to care.

"What does that mean?"

"Why is this so difficult for you to grasp?" she asked, her agitation rising like sour bile in her throat.

"Hey, look, I'm a little new to this game. Haven't had to deal with too many demons until recently," he said, tone low and unkind. "I'm not as friendly with Hell as you are, so I'm just trying to find my way in the dark here."

Abruptly, she said, "There is no way we are going to be able to have this conversation without you saying something that pisses me off. So you're going to have to find a little patience and we'll talk when there's a freaking mediator present."

"Why is it such a problem for you?" he asked. "God, you are the most emotional Hunter I think I've ever met. You take all of this so damn personal."

"Well, shit, Caleb," she scoffed. "Why don't you try learning that your whole life was ripped clean out by the roots so that a fucking demon could use you to pop open the gates to Hell? I'm sure you'd just be stable as a priest's faith about the whole thing."

This finally made him fall silent. Looking back out the window, she said, "People and things have been screwing around with my life since I was eight years old, Caleb. If I want to get emotional about it, then I've earned that right. And you know what?" She turned to look at him, except this time he refused to meet her gaze. "We all get emotional. We pretend like we don't. We shove it down deep and self-medicate, but none of us is what could be called stable, and you know it. So what the hell are you talking about?"

He brushed his fingers through his hair again but didn't answer.

Rounding off her point, she said, "Because of who I am, what I came from... I might be responsible for the worst supernatural calamity that's ever happened to this world. So you're damn right I'm emotional about it."

"I'm sorry," he said, startling her into silence.

"You're what?" she said blankly.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. His knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel. His eyes flicked over to her and he said, "I've never worked with someone...like you before. I'm just having a little bit of a hard time trying to make that okay in my head."

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She could understand where he was coming from. If their situations had been reversed, she would have had a hard time working with him, too. 

Quietly, she said, "Look, I get it. You spent a long time thinking I was just a Hunter. Now you know different and you're struggling with the fact that not all of us want to rip peoples' spines out. Every Hunter has that moment and it's not fun. But you need to realize that I'm a Hunter at my core even when I can't be on the surface."

"Are you us or are you them?" he asked. When she gave him a confused frown, he said, "One moment you talk like you're a Hunter, the next you talk like you're actually part of Hell. So which is it?"

"Kid, you need to learn that not everything is so black and white." She sighed. "I know it's really easy to think about the world that way, especially when you're a Hunter. The things in the dark are bad and the things in the light are good, but the fact of the matter is that's just not true. The sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll be a truly good Hunter."

Caleb touched his tongue to his upper lip. He stared moodily at the sky for a second before casting his eyes back onto the road. "Lot of people I know don't see it that way."

"Lot of people you know haven't been desperate enough then," she shot back. "Lucky them."

He nodded slowly. They rode in silence for another long stretch, then he said, "Can I just ask you one thing? And if you need to get mad, fine, but I really want an answer."

"What's so important about the question?" she grumbled. There was no way she was going to like where this was going.

"Because it's the one thing that keeps dancing around in the back of my mind every time I think you're really not that bad." He swore as traffic started to slow them down, then looked at her, eyes somehow made even darker by the bright afternoon sunlight that filled the cab.

She bit her lip, weighing the benefit of letting him ask the question against the worry of what that question might be. Finally, she nodded jerkily, trying to steel herself.

"What happened with you and the Hellhound? The first one. Every time I mention him or you accidentally mention him, you flinch or throw a punch."

"Is there an actual question in there?" she asked stiffly, her heart starting to beat very hard against her sternum.

"Hellhounds are just about the worst thing out there. So why do you seem so... involved with him?" Caleb asked.

She stared at him for a long time, wishing she had just refused his question. Until, finally, she realized Caleb's problem wasn't necessarily with her. It was with Sirius, and the fact that she'd been with him when they first ran into the Hunter.

Taking a steadying breath, she said, "He had saved my life once or twice before that night. He'd shown me that he was worth my trust as far as my life was concerned."

"Why don't you say anything about him?" Caleb asked. She didn't remember giving him permission for a follow up question.

Biting harder into her lip, she finally said, "Do you talk about your dead people?"

"He's not dead—," Caleb tried to start, but she shook her head violently.

Voice strained and creaky, she said, "It's easier for me to think of it that way."

Caleb took a deep breath. "Okay. Fair. I won't bring it up again."

They spent the rest of that day driving in a relatively comfortable silence. Then she watched Caleb display his skills at first a pool table, then a small poker game. They paid for a motel room; she decided not to complain about having to share. She didn't want to feed his paranoia now that she'd seemingly put a damper on it.

The air was a little clearer between them after their final conversation, but now she found herself stuck in a cycle of thinking about Sirius, then thinking about not thinking about him.

Either way, she couldn't seem to banish the ghost knife that had lodged itself right in the center of her chest.