"There's right and there's wrong; you got to do one or the other."

-John Wayne

                                                                              ***

"Hey, wake up," a voice said softly, making Sirius' eyes snap open. He jumped to his feet, hands brushing frantically at his arms.

"Sh!" the voice hissed. "You're gonna make them turn the lights all the way on again!"

Sirius blinked, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes, then frowned when he found Caleb standing next to him, raised up on his toes as he peered anxiously through the bars. It took him a second to realize that the Hunter was the one who had woken him.

He'd thought that maybe the darkness had seen an opportunity as he slept. That it had tried to creep over him to steal his heart and his conviction.

Caleb raised an eyebrow at him, then whispered, "Time for you to make like Houdini, Fido. So how are we getting out of here?"

Sirius looked around the cell, then placed his palm flat against the chilly cinder block wall right behind them. He asked, "What's on the other side of this wall?"

Caleb blinked, then scowled. "Wait, hold on. I think I have my x-ray glasses here somewhere." He made a big show of patting down his pockets. Then he held up his hands, palms toward the ceiling, elbows tucked into his ribs. He shrugged and said, "Damn. Must have left them in the cereal box this morning."

"Shut up," Sirius sighed. He turned around and picked his way over to the darkest corner, Caleb trailing along in his wake.

He placed his hand on the wall again and closed his eyes. A sticky tendril of darkness wound around his fingers, telling him that there was an empty storage room on the other side of the wall. 

That would have to do.

Rolling his shoulders, he said, "Okay, this is going to be awkward for everyone involved, so just suck it up and we don't have to speak of it again."

"What are you—Hey!" Caleb yelped indignantly as Sirius pulled him into an awkward embrace, his hands pressing into the Hunter's shoulder blades, pulling him flush against his body.

Without thinking about it, he let the darkness wrap around them in an ugly cocoon, then fell sideways through the wall, pulling the Hunter with him. He had the unpleasant sensation of the darkness pulling every molecule in his body apart, then he was whole again, standing in a room that was probably pitch black to the Hunter.

The darkness sank hooks into his arms and along his shoulders. Sirius tensed, forcing it out and away from his skin.

Caleb made a small sound of outrage, then Sirius' breath was wheezing out as an elbow was driven right into his sternum. They sprang apart from each other, Sirius' excellent vision allowing him to see the Hunter's look of disgust as he brushed at his face.

Galloway had once told him it felt like being pulled through cobwebs.

Struggling to keep his voice low, he said, "Would it have killed you to give me a little warning?"

"Maybe," Sirius retorted. Caleb was looking blindly in his direction, one hand placed tentatively on a shelf next to him. It was obvious that he was completely blinded by what was most likely pitch black to him. To Sirius, the room was more of a dark blue.

He had learned a long time ago that the only thing that was truly black was the darkness itself. Everything else tended to be in shades of grey or blue, even the blackest of nights.

Caleb whispered, "I can't see a damn thing. Where do we go next?"

"We need our keys," Sirius said, his voice low as he took the Hunter's hand and placed it on his shoulder, starting to lead him toward the door.

"Do you have proper training as a seeing eye dog?" Caleb said, and Sirius stepped to the side, grinning when the Hunter smacked right into a shelf and swore. Throwing a nasty look in Sirius' general direction, he hissed, "I know. But that's going to put us right in the middle of everyone."

"Don't they have like a room or something they put personal effects in?" Sirius asked, leading the Hunter toward the door. He really didn't know too terribly much about the human justice system. Anything he did know, he'd learned from law enforcement dramas.

He didn't think those would be incredibly helpful as a source.

Caleb seemed to mull this over while Sirius listened at the door. When he didn't hear anything, he cautiously cracked the door open, and the Hunter sighed in relief as the pitch black was alleviated. Sirius squinted against the sudden intrusion of the light, and they slipped into the hall, creeping quietly past closed doors. 

They ducked under some windows looking in on an occupied office, and found themselves at an emergency exit. They looked at each other, and Caleb said, "We can't risk it. We need to just go."

"But I can't leave her keys!" Sirius hissed, panic fluttering against his heart.

"We can just hotwire it," Caleb said with a shrug.

Sirius just stared at him, jaw dropping open. "Are you insane?"

"I'm not the one with voices in my head."

"I'm not fucking tearing her car apart. All my body parts are right where I want them to be, and I'd like to keep them that way if you don't mind." Sirius shivered slightly thinking about the wrath that would rain down on them if they did anything remotely disrespectful to her car.

Caleb looked a little pale at the prospect, but said, "She'll understand. There were extenuating circumstances. Plus we can always take it to that mechanic of hers before we get her out. We have to head back that way anyway to talk to Logan and Rhys."

"I'm not doing it. If you want to, go ahead." Sirius shook his head. "I'm telling her you did it. There's no way I'm jumping in front of that bus with you."

The Hunter rolled his eyes, then looked up at the emergency exit sign. With a sigh, he said, "As soon as we open this, everything will go batshit. We'll need to split up, then run like hell. Do you know a place we can rendezvous?"

Sirius shook his head. "Just run. I'll find you."

"What? How?" Caleb said incredulously, then they both froze as a cop walked past the entrance of the hallway they were in. Neither of them dared to breathe until he passed.

Sirius tapped his nose, and said, "You stink, that's how."

With a dry look, the Hunter nodded, then placed his hands carefully against the door. He took one breath, then flung the door open. Immediately an alarm blared out. Sirius gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to cover his ears and curl into a ball as the sound drove ice picks into his ears.

Caleb yanked at his arm once, and then he was running, his barely repaired rib protesting the violent action.

There was the sound of shouting under the alarm, and the Hunter peeled away from him, shooting down a separate road. Sirius wound farther and farther away from the heart of the city. It was unfortunately less crowded, but there were also less cameras around.

The darkness slid along walls after him, like some kind of strange, distorted shadow, telling him he'd be faster on four legs. But he couldn't risk a shift. The darkness was steadily getting more and more persistent, and if he let it touch him, he knew it wouldn't let him go again. 

Not when his mind was still so messy.

He ran and twisted through dark streets and alleys, winding farther away from the lights and further into the filth. He darted past scantily clad women in impossibly high heels; past people in nondescript dark hoodies who smelled like cocaine and heroin.

Sex for money. Chemicals for relief. Each and every sin smelled different. Each sin beckoned to him. The darkness whispered that this was the world to which he belonged.

Finally, on a road lined with decrepit buildings and busted streetlights, Sirius stopped running. He stood in the middle of the street, chest heaving as his breath burst in and out. Voices floated to him from a distance and he straightened up to find a group of men swaggering down the sidewalk, loud and boisterous. 

Sirius didn't have the time tonight.

He started to turn away, his hands in his pockets. He needed to hurry up and find Caleb so they could get this show on the road. 

Then one of the men whistled. He heard a small, feminine gasp. He hunched his shoulders and started to walk a little faster. It wasn't his problem. His own problems far outweighed anything else. So did Galloway's. 

A moment of intense quiet seemed to settle on the street, and then he heard a swift patter of feet, and someone was grabbing his arm. He snarled and started to pull away, but small fingers dug into his forearm and wide, desperate, dark brown eyes were staring up at him.

He stopped walking, and she looked over her shoulder before trying to pull him along. When he didn't budge, she said, "Por favor, ayúdame!"

Rolling his eyes up to the dark sky, he looked over her shoulder to see the group of men approaching. They had all fallen eerily silent. Sirius sighed. He knew a hunting pack when he saw one. 

His eyes trailed over the men, finding piercings and tattoos on their deep tan skin. He could smell the cold blue metal of small handguns. One had a baseball bat carried casually across his skinny shoulders. Again he glanced down at the woman, who had tears in her eyes as she cowered next to him. 

Her dark hair almost shimmered. He cocked his head and asked, "Quienes son?"

"Hombres malos," she whispered. "Por favor, por favor."

Sirius sighed. He'd lingered too long. They were only about thirty feet away. Some of them were grinning now, dark eyes sparking and malevolent in the low light.

The woman's eyes were wild as they got closer. Sirius looked down at her, and said, "Corre."

When she just stared up at him, petrified, he pushed her out ahead of him, farther down the street and away from the men. He let his fangs peek out and snarled, "Corre!"

The woman's eyes widened, and she actually took the time to cross herself before clutching her purse and running. One of the men shouted and went to chase after her, and Sirius sighed. 

This was starting to annoy him.

His hand shot out, quick as lightning, his claws snatching into the man. Using the man's velocity, he let it spin him around before he let go, throwing the man back into his friends. One with a tear drop tattoo under his left eye caught him, righting him, before they started to circle around him. 

Runner looked down at his arm, and showed the blood to Tear Drop. 

Sirius now had their full attention. Good.

Before they could do anything, he spun in a quick circle, taking in and counting opponents. Five men, at least two had handguns, then there was the one with the baseball bat. A soft snicking alerted him to the presence of a switchblade over his left shoulder. 

He should have just kept walking.

"Estás en problemas, cabrón," Tear Drop sneered.

Sirius didn't bother responding. He wasn't in any trouble. They were just wasting his time. When none of them made a move, he rolled his eyes and said, "Podemos empezar ahora?"

They didn't seem to like that answer very much. Or maybe they just didn't like the fact that he wasn't afraid. He could see from the way Baseball Bat shifted that he was unnerved, and he grinned. He knew he had that affect on humans. Especially ones like these.

That's what tended to happen when a predator ran into something bigger and badder. And there wasn't much in this universe that was worse than him.

His claws slid out and he flexed his fingers. His vision sharpened as his pupils dilated, letting in every scrap of light available. Rolling his shoulders, he curled a finger at Baseball Bat, wanting to get him out of the way first.

He had no such luck when a gentle tap against the concrete behind him warned him. He sidestepped and twisted, grabbing Switchblade by the wrist to avoid getting stabbed. Sirius crushed his wrist, forcing him to drop the knife. 

A soft whistle had him ducking the bat and he twisted, lashing a foot out. The kick took Baseball Bat in the stomach sending him tumbling backwards.

He stepped in close behind Switchblade, who didn't seem to understand what was happening. His free hand slid up to the man's jaw, and he wrenched his head to the side. Before the others could regroup, there was a catastrophic cracking, grinding sound, and he dropped to the ground.

Sirius nudged the body to the side with his foot. 

The rest of the men stared at their dead friend. Then Baseball Bat let out a vicious scream and charged at him, swinging. Sirius laughed at the shock on the gangbanger's face when he stepped into the swing, catching the middle section of the bat on his shoulder, rather than the barrel. 

It took all the power from the blow.

He whipped his arm up, wrapping it over the man's hands around the handle of the bat, trapping the bat and his arms between his ribcage and his bicep. Sirius snarled as the man wiggled, trying to pull away, and sank his claws into the man's forearm, anchoring him.

Bringing up his free arm, Sirius punched him, following it with an elbow to the temple. He hit him twice, then blood poured and there was a crunch.The man crumpled, and Sirius stripped the bat away when he heard a rustle behind him. He turned his hips, swinging hard.

The barrel of the bat smacked with a sickening crack into the head of a man with a snake tattooed on his neck. The side of his head caved in. A horrendous bang made Sirius' ears ring, but he didn't feel any pain. The bullet had missed. A growl ripped from his chest and he turned.

There was another bang and he stumbled forward as a bullet slammed into his upper back, dropping him to a knee. Tear Drop walked forward, grinning prematurely.

Sirius still had the bat in his hands. With a grin of his own, he jabbed it forward like a spear, slamming it right into the inside of his knee. There was a pop as the kneecap was forced out of place, and Tear Drop fell screaming. 

Not missing a beat, Sirius dropped forward on top of him, sinking his fangs into the man's throat. Blood that tasted like bad tequila and asphalt flooded over his tongue. He bit down harder before flinging his head from side to side. Tear Drop screamed, trying to shove Sirius off of him.

A sharp pain bit into his side, a knife sliding twice into his left kidney. Snarling, blood in his throat, he tore a chunk of flesh out of the man. Blood gushed down onto the pavement, the man seizing as he bled out.

He wobbled up to his feet, pressing a hand into the knife wound in his side. He gagged and spit the chunk of flesh to the side, coughing the blood away. Breathing hard, he wiped at his mouth, then his eyes flicked up to the remaining two.

One held a blackened knife, staring at him in horrified fear. The other had helped Baseball Bat to his feet and was slowly dragging him away. 

Sirius wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. Nodding toward Knife's friends, he said, "Sal. Ahora."

The man dropped the knife and ran, leaving Baseball Bat and the one helping him behind. When they were gone, Sirius slumped to the ground. Everything was so quiet now. 

Blood and death filled his nose. 

He could feel the slug resting right behind his sternum. Blood pulsed from between his fingertips. It trickled down his back, making his shirt stick to him. He spit another mouthful of blood, black mixing with the red now. It was hard to breathe.

On his knees, he tilted his head back to stare at the bleached, starless sky. What was he doing here?

His shoulders slumped as a tear slid down the side of his nose. His wrists stung, wanting him to get up. Two men lay dead in front of him. What was the point of all of it?

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them, meaning to get to his feet. But then he froze. Slowly, he shook his head, knowing this was impossible.

Standing in front of him was Galloway.

Lips parting, he gasped in a small breath and she smiled, her eyes kind. He looked up at her as she stood right in front of him. He couldn't consciously remember her moving. Then he shook his head. "You aren't real."

She shook her head, blonde hair falling around her face. "No," she said softly, then bent at the waist to take his face in her hands. "But that's okay."

He could feel a warmth where her hands were, but there was no substance. Nothing solid. He dragged in a shaky breath. 

She whispered, "You did good."

A laugh that was nothing more than a dry puff of air burst out of him. His eyes clouded with tears. Shaking his head, he said, "You would have done the same."

"But you're not me, Sirius. You have to try so much harder." She smiled again, then leaned in closer. "You have to keep trying."

"All I want is to get you back," he said, staring at her. Even if he knew she wasn't real, he couldn't bear the idea of looking away. Even for a second. "I don't care about anything else."

"You keep telling yourself that." Her fingers brushed through his hair, nothing more than wind sighing through the dark strands. She tilted his face up and placed her mouth over his.

His lips parted automatically, but there was no scent to breathe in. No taste. She wasn't real.

Finally, she pulled away and stepped back. Sirius stretched out his still-clawed hand, but before he could touch her, she sifted away like so much ash on the wind. A small cry escaped his throat.

His head bowed, his arm dropping back down to his side. He could feel the bullet moving, trying to find a way out of his body. It grated against the back of his sternum.

You have to go find Caleb, she whispered.

Sirius stayed where he was, on his knees, surrounded by blood and death, and wondered if this was where he belonged. Then his head came up. It wasn't about where he belonged.

It was about where she belonged.

He lurched to his feet, then swayed as his vision dimmed and warped. Looking down, he found blood drenched him. The knife had done more damage than he had expected. Not enough to kill him, but certainly enough to make his life hell.

Inhaling slowly, he waited until everything brightened again, then started walking. He stumbled down the concrete, trying to catch any hint of the Hunter's scent on the light breeze.

As he wandered, the bullet found a space between his ribs and clinked to the ground in a small puddle of inky black. He sighed. Now all he had to do was wait for it to close up. The knife wound was still steadily repairing itself.

The night was waning when he finally caught the scent he was looking for.

The Hunter smelled like leather, silver, sawdust and an autumn forest. Not to mention the dark magic that clung to him in wisps now. Sirius inhaled deeply, the scent stretching out like a ribbon in front of him.

It led him in a dizzying pattern through the streets of the outer city until he found himself staring at the open door of some dive bar. Irritation welled up in him.

While he had been bleeding, the Hunter had been drinking. 

Then he actually cracked a smile. If their situations had been reversed, he'd probably have been drinking too. He wiped at his face one more time, hoping that most of the blood was gone.

Shaking his head, he made his way across the street and into the bar, glad for the low light. A few nearby people gave him an odd look, but nobody screamed, so he started to wind his way through the surprisingly large number of people.

He followed the scent until he spotted the Hunter holed up in a corner of the room, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He'd ditched the shredded, bloodied clothes from earlier, and was now wearing a plain blue t-shirt. He appeared to be very deep in thought, staring down into the beer he'd ordered.

Sirius fell into the seat next to him, making the Hunter start a little.

A waitress came over and Sirius ordered straight scotch, making the Hunter raise an eyebrow. When Sirius just waved off his question, Caleb shrugged. They waited until the waitress had returned with his drink and left again.

He drained about half the glass, then said, "We probably need to leave soon."

Caleb sighed. "What did you do?"

"Killed some bad people," Sirius said flippantly. "Got stabbed. Oh, and shot."

"You what?" Caleb hissed, fingers tightening around his glass.

"I'm fine by the way. Thanks for asking." Sirius met the Hunter's outraged stare, then sighed and said, "Look man, I didn't do it on purpose. I just ended up in fucking gangland and this woman ran up to me, asking for help and they started it."

Caleb maintained the furious expression for another second, then unruffled. "I guess I should just be happy that you didn't go rampaging through suburbia."

Sirius didn't dignify that remark with a response, instead finishing off his drink and signaling to the waitress for another. The Hunter eyed him, then said, "You don't look very shot to me."

Once again, Sirius waited until the waitress was gone, then lifted his shirt so that the Hunter could see the hole where the bullet had worked itself out. The knife wound, as well as the entrance wound from the bullet, had mostly closed by now.

"Jesus H. Christ," Caleb breathed. Shaking his head, he said, "Okay, so how long do you think we have. Did anyone see you?"

"Nobody who will report it to the police," Sirius said, slumping back tiredly in his seat. The days of barely any sleep and no food were starting to take their toll. "We can meet your people, but it might be a good idea to go demon hunting somewhere else."

Sirius rubbed at his eyes. They burned and itched. He downed his drink, then said, "Are we still arguing about that?"

Caleb didn't answer. All he did was stand up, throw some money on the table, then he said, "Come on. I found a place we can crash for tonight. Then we can go get the car."

Taking that as an answer, Sirius pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. Caleb watched him carefully, but didn't offer any help. Instead, he turned and started pushing his way toward the exit.

Sirius muttered under his breath and followed suit. He found Caleb waiting for him on the street, but all the Hunter did was turn and start walking, hands in his pockets, head down.

He leaned against the brick wall of the bar for a second. Exhaustion swept over him, drowning him. He didn't even have the energy to slap away a slick ribbon of darkness as it wrapped around his arm, nestling against his skin. His breath was shallow, and his eyes kept trying to drag shut.

There was no way he was surviving this. Any of it.