"And yet to every bad there is a worse."

- Thomas Hardy

                                                                         ***

Caleb didn't appear to be breathing. Rick was glaring at Sirius, and Alex refused to look at him. Sirius watched the sun slip below the horizon with increasing agitation, his fingers drumming against his thighs.

He hated this. He hated this feeling like he had bugs under his skin. There was a tight sensation in his stomach, just below his ribcage, and he was beginning to feel vaguely nauseated. 

Sirius had never had anxiety before he met her. He wanted it to go away, and the only thing that seemed to cure the sensation of his skin being slowly seperated from his muscles by insects was movement.

Anything that seemed to move him in the direction of getting her out of Hell was the only thing that brought any relief, and it was a paltry relief at best. 

It didn't help that he knew what the real cure was. 

Finally, Caleb sighed. "Rick, he didn't know."

"Bullshit," the other Hunter said calmly.

An hour after Alex had run from the room, away from Sirius, Rick had come storming in, his sister in tow. Caleb had given Sirius a look that clearly said I told you so.

And Sirius had burst out laughing when Rick had wheeled on Caleb instead, demanding to know about the black magic that was currently tattooing the skin around his wrists. His amusement had been short-lived, though, and after nearly twenty minutes of Caleb trying to answer questions he didn't know the answers to, Sirius was just eager to cut this short and leave.

Caleb, before Rick had interrupted them, had barely convinced him that it would be best to go to another nearby city like Mesquite or Paradise. His argument had revolved around the fact that they were probably wanted fugitives, and that Vegas had some of the most intense surveillance of any city in the United States.

Sirius had a brief flash of irony at the idea of hunting demons in Paradise, Nevada, and had finally agreed to leave Las Vegas and its relatively plentiful demon population. He knew that even if there weren't any demons in Paradise, if worst came to worst, they could always summon a demon and go from there.

He got the feeling that the Hunters would reject that second option. And he had determined that he was willing to play nice for the next three days, just as long as he saw results. After that, though, anything went. 

But most cities had at least one Crossroads Demon working sales there at any given time. The bigger the population, the more likely this was, but Sirius wouldn't have bet money on them just strolling into town and finding a demon. 

Really, he didn't care about the logistics. He just wanted to go.

And he was maybe five seconds away from just knocking all three of them out and throwing them into the back of the car. 

Trying to keep any overwhelming hostility out of his voice, he said, "I've never worked that spell before. Usually blood magic is so specific, it didn't occur to me that it would take mere presence as the same oath I was willing to undertake. Neither of us knew it would happen before it was too late."

Rick grit his teeth, then said, "I still don't believe you, Fido."

"And I don't fucking care," Sirius said wearily, his knees threatening to buckle as a wave of sheer hopelessness threatened to drown him. 

These, he knew by now, at least didn't stay very long. They just filled him to the brim with these miserable feelings, then left him drained and angry at his own pathetic weakness.

Shaking his head, he stumbled forward a step, then righted himself and went to the door. He glanced sideways at Caleb, tired beyond belief, and mumbled, "I'll be in the car. I can't do this anymore."

He opened the door, then reminded the Hunter, "She doesn't have the time for you to argue about every little step."

Caleb paled a little, tan skin draining of color, then nodded minutely. Rick snapped, "You're just letting him go?"

Sirius stepped out into the hall and shut the door, but still heard Caleb say, "He doesn't matter, Rick. And he won't leave. Galloway is what matters. I don't care what your issues are with that. But she saved me when I was a kid, and I owe her the same. I owe her my life, twice, and that's all there is to it."

Rick started to argue again, and Caleb snapped, "If she hadn't been there to save me, who would have been there to save you and Alex, Rick?"

That sounded like something nasty. A low blow if he'd ever heard one.

He made it to the top of the stairs at the end of the hall, then had to slump against the wall. Before he knew what was happening, he was sliding down the pale green and grey striped wallpaper to sit on the dark wood of the floor. A small breath rattled its way into his lungs, and his eyes blurred.

Another attack swamped him, and all he could do was try to ride out the wracking waves of pain and fear and sorrow. Guilt washed through him, scalding his very bones.  He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on top of them, not making a sound.

Bitterly, he wondered if this was something that happened to everyone, or just to something like him: an empty shell who fancied they could feel things. It couldn't be that humans experienced this. Because if they did, they'd be even more useless than they already were. 

They couldn't possibly feel all of this in the way he did. In waves that carried him up, or tried to crush him against the ocean floor, depending on whether or not she was with him. 

His ribs seemed to contract, restricting his lungs, and he did his best to gasp in breath after breath. He closed his eyes, and memories flickered to life in the darkness, making all of it worse and better at the same time, which just served to confuse his fragile mind further.

It was a simple memory, this time. Nothing cataclysmic, just good.

It had been in Wyoming, after she had come back from meeting her witch. He knew she'd been crying. He could smell the salt of her tears. But he had made another stupid decision, carving that damn pentagram into the skin over his heart, then scaring the hell out of her.

His own claws had left fire inside his veins, burning him with pain, and he'd been unable to show her in the only way he knew how that he was sorry, that he loved her, that he wanted her to be okay. He'd been barely able to properly hold her.

She'd fallen asleep curled up next to him, and he'd caught himself marveling over that. The fact that she trusted him that much, that she could actually sleep with her back pressed against his side, astounded him.

He hadn't slept that night, content to just watch the moonlight slide slowly up the walls, the sound of her breathing lulling him into a contented doze. He'd been jolted back to full wakefulness when she'd rolled over, her breath suddenly warm against his ear.

She'd murmured, "I shouldn't love you as much as I do."

At first, he'd thought she was awake. But her breathing had immediately settled back into the same slow pattern that indicated sleep, and he realized she must have been dreaming. He'd closed his eyes, turning his head so that his mouth very nearly touched hers.

Sirius sighed as his ribs eventually released, and he finally managed to claw his way free of the emotional riptide. He rubbed across his eyes with his wrist, trying to blink away the blurriness. 

A step sounded in the hall, and he looked up, feeling like he'd just gone seventeen rounds in the ring. Pure exhaustion made him feel battered and bruised. He couldn't bring himself to care as Rick stared down at him, those cold, steel-colored eyes trying to burn a hole through him.

His muscles shook with fatigue as he finally hauled himself to his feet. He leaned against the banister, waiting for the trembling to stop. He didn't trust himself enough right at the moment to attempt actually going down the stairs.

The Hunter crossed his arms, and suspiciously asked, "What were you doing out here, mutt?"

Several responses ran through his mind, but he settled on the simplest. "Trying to keep from drowning."

Rick glanced around, his movements exaggerated like he was trying to find the ocean here in the hallway, without much success. Sirius rubbed at his aching eyes again, and asked, "Are you done with your bitch fit?"

The Hunter's eyes just narrowed. Sirius huffed out a breath and turned to go down the stairs. He wasn't surprised in the least when Rick grabbed his arm and threw him back into the wall with a dull thump, but he was too tired to get into it with this asshole.

Speaking distinctly, making sure his words weren't slurring, he said, "I didn't do anything to Caleb. If I'd known, I'd have made him leave."

"Why?" The hostility in the one word was impressive, even by Sirius' standards. And he'd been there to watch the Spartans and Persians duke it out.

"Because it was supposed to be something for me to show her. Only me." Sirius let out a small laugh, disliking how close to insane it sounded.

Slowly, Rick stepped back, his brow furrowing at that answer. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius sagged back into the wall, running a hand through his hair to push the dark strands out of his face. With a shrug, he rasped, "Just that. Because this way, when I get to her, I'll be able to show her these, and maybe she'll understand how completely..."

He shook his head. He didn't want to finish that sentence in front of this judgmental Hunter.

Rick's mouth skewed to the side in a displeased grimace. "What did you do to make him want to help you?"

Slowly, Sirius looked up, meeting the Hunter's gaze. He didn't burn Sirius like his sister did, and he squinted, drawing Rick's Soul up to the surface. He frowned when it didn't immediately work.

He stood up straighter, staring intently at the Hunter, who bared his teeth in response to the sudden scrutiny. Finally, slowly, golden bronze and bloody red whirled up in a strange spiral over his heart. 

Sirius frowned. He had seen a Soul like that before, but he couldn't think of when or where. 

He let go of his Soul and flicked curious eyes back up to Rick's. His gaze was greeted by one that was trying to cut him into little bloody ribbons. Wryly, he finally answered, "All I did was tell him they'd taken her. You want to know why he's doing anything, why don't you go ask him."

Rick's jaw tightened, but all he said was, "If he or my sister get hurt, you're the one I'm holding responsible."

Sirius had to battle the urge to roll his eyes. Different Hunter, same old song and dance. All he did, though, was nod. "Fine."

This earned him a vicious sort of grin from Rick, who then leaned against the opposite wall of the hallway and folded his arms. It was slowly coming to Sirius' attention that there was something very strange about this man.

He struggled to focus on something besides the sensation of flayed nerves, but before he could decide what about the man seemed so off, a door opened and Alex stepped out into the hall.

"Hey, Rick? Caleb wants to—" Her words were sharply cut off when she saw Sirius standing in the hall as well. She looked at her brother, then asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taking the dog out for a walk," Rick responded a bit snidely. Sirius' eyes closed for a second, annoyance sparking briefly in his chest. Then the Hunter's voice softened a little and he said, "Don't worry, Al. Just talking."

He opened his eyes to find Alex watching her brother suspiciously. Then, she said, "Caleb wants to talk to..." Her gaze flicked to Sirius, then she finished, "He wants to talk to the Hound about the best way to find a demon."

They both turned to him expectantly. He used his thumb and index finger to rub at his eyes before he pinched the bridge of his nose. Pushing himself away from the wall, he edged his way around Alex, careful not to touch her, and said,  "Not much to it."

Both of the Winters siblings scoffed, then followed him into the room. He found Caleb leaned over the table, looking at a map of Nevada. He looked up when Rick closed the door, eyes scanning quickly over everyone, attention lingering longest on Alex, who just nodded and sat on the bed. 

Caleb sighed and raked a hand through his hair, standing up straight before he said, "We haven't had the chance to really look, so this is pretty preliminary, but we don't really have any signs of demon activity anywhere in the state. No lightning storms, no livestock mutilations, nothing that usually lets us know where they are."

Sirius couldn't help the small snort that escaped him. All three Hunters glared at him and he snapped, "I don't need to look for stupid signs."

"Then what do you need?" Caleb asked, a strange mix of irritation and forced patience in his voice.

Sirius sighed and went over to the map. Moving quickly, he unwrapped Alex's careful binding from around his arm. Blood pattered down onto the map, blotting out Las Vegas and several surrounding cities. 

Softly under his breath, he directed the blood, whispering, "A sanguine, videbitur. Daemonium quaerere."

Latin had been one of his first human languages, and tended to be the least dramatic of them where spellwork was concerned. Spells in Greek and Egyptian had a tendency to get a bit out of hand, unless you wanted to spend hours writing out an essay of text that outlined every stipulation of the actions you required from a spell.

Latin was simple, terse and got the job done. And while it might not be the most powerful of the spellwork languages, it was all he needed for now.

Caleb glanced at him, opening his mouth, then blinked as the blood began to move, racing out in black ink strokes across the pale paper.

As they watched, Sirius wrapped his arm back up as best he could. He didn't think Alex would be inclined to help him with it a second time. The other two Hunters huddled in around the table, watching his blood draw circles around cities with a demon currently in them.

He stepped away from the table in favor of sinking back into the same green armchair Caleb had found him sitting in earlier. His arm stung something awful. His joints ached and creaked when he moved. He felt unreasonably cold. His head hurt, and his mouth felt sticky and dry.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was sick.

Except, Hellhounds didn't get sick. It was impossible. Which led to the conclusion that it was all in his head. Closing his burning eyes, he slumped down in the chair, trying to find some way to lessen his misery.

More than anything, his chest hurt. It felt like all his ribs had been broken, then jammed into his heart. He wanted something to make it stop hurting. 

Get to work and you'll feel better, she whispered, making him flinch.

He bit into his lip to keep himself from answering her out loud. Instead, he thought, I'm trying. But your stupid Hunter doesn't seem to work at a pace other than slow.

Her laugh rang inside his head, lightening the crushing sensation in his throat for just a moment. Then, she said, We can't all just go off half-cocked, Sirius. Some of us are a little more breakable than you, remember?

His shoulders hunched up around his ears as those words brought on a flash of memory. Blank eyes. Blood-soaked hair. Still body lying in a crimson pool.

He bolted to his feet and out the door, ignoring the shouts from behind him. His muscles screamed as he ran down the hall before slamming his way down the stairs. He startled a maid, making her drop a stack of towels. Then he was bursting out the front door and sprinting down the street.

Shadows sprang up in front of him, taunting him as he flew past. Whispering terrible things, they tried to wrap around his arms and legs. Trying to trip him, trying to slow him down. 

He ran into the middle of the empty street, trying to put some distance between himself and everything else. The sun was just a golden thread on the horizon, rapidly losing the battle against the dark night.

There was nowhere he could go to escape.

Before he had the chance to think about it, he let them swarm over him, but they didn't pull his wolf form free of his human skin. Instead, the darkness slammed into him with the force of a battering ram and he fell, his muscles giving out like a marionette with cut strings. 

He hit the concrete, his shoulder making an unpleasant crunching sound as he landed. The darkness took the pain in his arm and shoulder and sent it fizzing through the rest of his body.

It giggled as he tried to breathe. Softly, it crooned, You couldn't run forever, Sirius. You couldn't stay away. You belong to us. You belong with us. You're ours, not hers, and it makes us angry that you forgot that.

It opened bleeding lines across his face, then down his neck. More lines opened up on his chest and stomach, as cleanly as if it had been done with a scalpel. Sirius screamed as the darkness poured into the wounds, seeping through his veins like acid. 

Not thinking, he grabbed one of the tendrils, claws sinking into the solid, slimy darkness. He yanked it out of a cut in his side, screaming again when it felt like he had dragged an artery out instead. 

Blood poured, making his skin slick as he fought with the darkness. His claws cut through it, but didn't cause any real damage. The darkness kept laughing, feeding on his blood and his pain. His vision was cut off, a blindfold of black wrapping around his eyes.

Next it rendered him deaf.

He was in a bubble that consisted only of his physical struggle against the slick threads wrapping around him, and the smell of blood and darkness. 

His claws tore through darkness into his own flesh. He could feel his vocal cords working as he cursed and screamed, but he couldn't hear or see anything.

Sirius struggled to his knees, but the darkness looped around his throat, yanking him back to the ground. It tightened, cutting off his breath.

He wondered what would happen if it killed him.

Even unable to see, white spots danced across his vision as his lungs started to cry for air. He clawed at his neck, but couldn't cut through the darkness quickly enough to bring any relief.

He could only add to the pain the darkness wrought on him.

Still struggling, he rolled sideways and choked as blood from the puddle under him went up his nose and down the back of his throat. The darkness released its hold just long enough for him to be smothered by his own blood.

It whispered, Promise to forget her, and we'll let you live.

Sirius couldn't answer. A spear of darkness went right through his chest, pinning him to the concrete. He couldn't let it kill him.

He tried to move, but every twitch against the spear cut him to pieces.

It wrapped around his throat and dragged him up. All he could manage was a whimper as it dragged him off the spear, leaving a gaping hole through his middle. More blood splashed down.

He wasn't sure he had much left to spare.

Come back to the fold, it hissed in his ear. You don't belong in this world, with those people. You belong to us.

Sirius shook his head weakly, blood bubbling up from the back of his throat and trickling from the corner of his mouth.

The darkness heaved out a petulant sigh. Then if we can't have you, nothing will.

It dropped him back to his knees. He swayed, his body trembling as he tried to stay upright. The darkness slithered away from his face, returning his sight, and he looked up as it morphed into a humanoid shape.

A human-shaped abyss looked back at him as an obsidian blade appeared from nowhere, sliding into the darkness' hand.

He spit a mouthful of blood at its feet. 

Just behind the darkness, Galloway shimmered into view, looking horrified. A hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide and glittering with tears. 

The darkness raised the blade. She screamed, "No!"

Sirius' vision was blasted out, red and gold light exploding around him. The darkness exploded into wisps of shadow that scattered in the beam of light. Another shape was exposed right behind it, one that shone white and silver.

He slumped to the side, his eyes closing.

"You can't die on us now, Fido," a gruff voice said.

"Rick!" Sirius' eyes flew open as he heard a woman's voice.

But he couldn't see beyond the colors. He thought they were Souls he recognized. His mind refused to give him anything more than that though, preoccupied instead with the hole through his chest and the blood he was losing.

He whimpered as a burning sensation blazed to life against the side of his face.

The woman's voice said, "We need to do something."

"Well we can't take him to a hospital!" A third voice, another voice he knew, exclaimed. Exasperation was thick in his tone. "Not when he bleeds black goo."

"Pick him up, we'll do what we can," the woman's voice said. Why couldn't he remember who these people were?

Galloway, her voice thick with worry, said, Friends. They're friends. Just hold on, Sirius. 

He couldn't remember closing his eyes, but he must have since he couldn't see again. Everything was getting a little duller, sound and pain alike slipping away from him.

A mouth pressed into his, arms going around his neck. Galloway whispered, You'll be okay.

He was jerked upright, and that was the last thing he remembered.