"And you said we'd leave this place in dust and fall from heaven straight through hell."

-Bastille

                                                                                   ***

Sekhmet cast one more disgusted look over the bottles of blood, raking that sneer over Sirius as well. He hovered over them like he'd unearthed millions' worth in gold. He resisted the urge to thank her again, sensing that she wouldn't like it very much.

A door creaking behind him had him looking over his shoulder, but the only one he found was Rick. His eyes traveled over Sirius and the blood to land finally on his mistress.

"How do we explain this?" he asked softly. "I can't... we can't just say an ancient goddess decided to help us. They don't really tend to do that."

Sekhmet made a small sound of distaste at the word ancient, and he shrugged apologetically. "You look really good for someone who's a couple thousand years old," he offered. "If that helps?"

"I suppose it must," she grumbled, but neither Sirius nor Rick missed how she shook out her long, dark hair, preening a little. Obviously pleased by his words, she smiled at him. "Just say I felt like I needed to help Sirius. He is an old friend, after all."

Rick made a face at this, but didn't pursue it. He tilted his head, like he was considering something so ridiculous.

"No," Sirius said, bolting to his feet. He turned to Rick. "Give me your keys."

"What?" Rick's eyebrows furrowed. Sekhmet frowned as well.

"I'm not wasting any more time. And there's no way we won't be here for two fucking days while your sister and pretty boy in there grill me about where we got this. We can't say anything about Sekhmet because of your issues." He held out his hand expectantly. "I'll leave a damn note telling them I'm done with their bullshit. That I've just decided to do this by myself."

"That won't work." Rick pointed at the spell markings around his wrists. "Those things keep you tied to Caleb. They burn you both when you leave, remember?"

His hackles rose as he was reminded of the unfortunate new side effect of the dark magic printed on his skin. Still, he shook his head. "I'm going to Valentia's. Tonight."

"Doesn't the magic hurt you?" Sekhmet asked, though the gleam in her golden eyes told him she knew exactly what the spell did.

"I've had worse," he nearly snarled. "I don't care. I've got what I need and I'm going. Or..." He looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing. "Or I'll tell them everything you don't want them to know about how exactly we got this blood with minimum strings attached."

Rick paled and Sekhmet snarled, her ivory canines flashing in the low light. Sirius suddenly found himself pinned against the banister, claws embedded in the skin of his neck as the goddess grabbed him by the throat.

He kept his eyes lowered and his gaze slanted away from her, his animal instincts easily recognizing that she was the dominant creature here and could gut him and leave him bleeding without much effort on her part.

Her voice slipped to a guttural growl, her words in Ancient Egyptian. "Do not threaten him, Sirius. You have no right to ruin his life just because you made a mistake that destroyed yours."

When he didn't immediately answer, she dug her claws in with a little more force, and blood trickled down to his collarbone. It was getting a little difficult to breathe, and he decided this wasn't the hill he cared to die on. So, though it hurt his pride, he nodded his head. "Apologies. I just... I need to go, Sekhmet. I need to get her."

Rick scowled as they continued talking in Sekhmet's native language.

"I know very well why you are so desperate to retrieve her," she said, voice softening ever so slightly. "But it's time you learned to take others into account as well, Sirius."

After another moment she let him go, but he still kept his eyes cast downwards.

"We'll talk to them in the morning," Rick decided, looking anxious at the prospect. "We'll just say that... that..."

"That I did some more crazy magic and have an old friend who happened to have some demon blood," Sirius said, voice toneless.

"Will it sounds fucking stupid when you say it like that." Rick scrubbed a hand through his short hair, then looked at Sekhmet. "I'm sorry. I'm just not... they won't—"

"I understand," she soothed. "It does not upset me. I know humans—and Hunters in particular—tend to have rather narrow scopes of understanding."

Sirius found himself sharing a knowing look with her. That was probably the understatement of this century. Then, she turned her attention back to Rick, and Sirius took that as his cue to give them a moment alone.

"A little help?" he asked, waving a hand at the blood still at his feet.

Sekhmet snapped her fingers and they disappeared without a trace. At his raised eyebrow, she said, "They're in the trunk. I thought that would be the place least likely for them to be stumbled upon by the more... inhibited members of your party."

Rick rubbed at the back of his neck, still not looking pleased by the situation. But he nodded. "Yeah. We keep it locked and I have the keys, so Alex shouldn't see it until we show them."

"Well, if that's all, I'm going back to bed." Sirius averted his eyes as Sekhmet grabbed the collar of Rick's jacket playfully and dragged him closer to the two of them. "Thank you, my lady."

Sekhmet purred in response, but Sirius was pretty sure that wasn't necessarily because of him. He turned and bumped into Rick, muttering an apology before he disappeared back into their room. He went into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth, using it to clean the now-dry sweat off his face and the blood from his throat.

He braced his hands against the sink and carefully looked up, wondering what he was going to find in the mirror.

It was nearly surreal to find he looked just as he had a month ago. Black hair, blue eyes... he needed a shave. Same mouth, same hands.

He felt so much older and more worn than he looked, but the only thing that showed what was on the inside were his eyes. Hollow, with dark shadows under them, they reflected what passed for his Soul.

Broken and empty, he wished he'd taken the time to look at his eyes when he'd been with her. He was curious if they would have looked any different, or still just the same dark emptiness.

A tremor ran up his arms, his hands balling into fists on the countertop.

"Did I really love her?" he asked his reflection. "Or did I just like the fact that she loved me?"

He wasn't sure he knew the answer. He wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer. Because if it was the wrong one, then what was the point? If he didn't love her, then what happened... never should have happened.

It shouldn't have happened anyway, but if he didn't really love her, then it shouldn't have happened and he'd killed her for no reason.

For how smart you are, it astonishes me how stupid you can be.

He bowed his head as she spoke to him.

If you didn't love me, she continued, you wouldn't be wondering these things. You wouldn't be doing what you're about to do. Because it wouldn't be worth the pain.So, the most important question is: is it worth it?

"Yes," he whispered, the answer immediately on his tongue. His eyes closed as a phantom hand brushed against his cheek.

Then quit doubting yourself and get to work.

A small, unamused laugh escaped him as he looked down at the keys he'd lifted from Rick and put next to the sink. He closed his eyes and listened, but couldn't hear anything outside the door of the room, which most likely meant Sekhmet had spirited Rick off to some other plane of existence. Some place between Heaven and Earth.

Apparently she hadn't been quite finished with the Hunter for the night.

That would play in his favor. Rick would be too preoccupied with the lioness and her tricks to realize his keys had been stolen until it was too late and Sirius was already gone.

The only remaining question was how gone he could get before Caleb woke up.

Sirius glanced down at the magic shackled around his wrists, then turned off the lights in the bathroom. Immediately, a silky strand of darkness wound up his arm, curling around his throat like some kind of unnervingly affectionate python.

"Can you make it stop hurting?" he murmured.

The darkness was silent for a moment, like it was considering his request.

For some, it finally hissed. Enough for you to leave this place, these... Huntersss.

"Can you give me time?"

No. Only distance. The magic is strange... because it is ours. You will get to where you are going, perhaps farther, but then you will both have to feel it. It will wake him, and it will lead him right to you.

Sirius nodded his understanding and the darkness slithered back down his arm.

Once more, he looked in the dim mirror to find a dark version of himself. The lack of light turned him into something ghoulish and fearful with eyes that burned like blue fire. He realized there was something funny here... or at the very least ironic.

He turned sharply on his heel, denying the impulse to send his fist through that mirror too. Opening the door again seemed risky, so he used the darkness to slip through the solid material and walked down to the parking lot.

It took less than a minute to find Rick's car and start it. The engine sprang to life, the Chevrolet emblem on the steering wheel mocking him.

He missed the Chevelle. Missed how she loved that car. Briefly he wondered how impossible it would be to convince her dragon mechanic to loan it to him for a little while. He'd like that to be the second thing she saw after being freed from Hell.

He might even swallow his pride a little more and ask Caleb to talk to Logan about retrieving it before they met up at Devils Tower.

A nervous trill at the idea of seeing either of her witches sparked through his nerves. Logan, at the very least, was much more powerful than he let on. The magic he possessed had seemed to ripple from his body with the intent of drowning Sirius the first time he had met the witch.

And he could only assume that his brother was just as, if not more, powerful.

What was worse was that he knew Logan loved Galloway fiercely. He didn't know why. He didn't know what kept the witch around, but his reasons hardly mattered.

It didn't matter how he looked at it. Didn't matter how he tried to spin his story. Logan would make him pay for her blood, and his price would be Sirius' pain.  

He shook the inevitable off, preferring to think about the possibility right in front of him. Being near-sighted and shallow had worked for him for a long time, he didn't see any reason his impulsivity wouldn't serve him here and now as well. 

Two strands of darkness covered the magic already embedded in his skin. A tingling, numbing sensation encircled his wrists, and he knew that while he slept, darkness was doing the exact same thing to Caleb.

Sirius pulled carefully away from the motel, half expecting the Hunter to come running and possibly shooting. But nothing stirred and he started north, his only intention to get to Valentia's, get the demon blade and see if he could live with the pain in his wrists.

If it wasn't impossible, he might really consider just leaving the Hunters and going to Hell all by himself, reservations and fears be damned. He already was.

Traffic got thicker as he moved nearer to Las Vegas and the city's center, even at two in the morning. He drove carefully, concentrating completely on what he was doing. It was either that, or let his concerns and doubts eat him alive.

He wound his way around the Strip, not caring to see anything that would trigger an unfortunately timed memory and its consequent meltdown.

It worried a small part of him that he was becoming rather competent at avoiding memories of her that would kill him. How long until he avoided any memory? How long until he forgot?

He shook that off. He wasn't avoiding certain parts of Vegas because of her. It was because Valentia lived in the unsanctioned seedy part of town.

It didn't take as long as he somehow wanted to arrive at her warehouse turned loft-apartment. Even a street over and four blocks away to discourage any tricky play on Valentia's part, he could hear the dull pounding of music and smell the sting of alcohol and every other drug in existence.

She was always throwing one hell of a party. Her business depended on it, and Sirius would be willing to bet blood or money that the only reason Valentia was still alive was the work of some witch. She probably should have OD'ed years ago.

Then again, the same thing could be said for him.

Sirius unlocked the trunk of the car and dug through the gear thrown haphazardly inside, a pang for Galloway's OCD tendencies making his ribs hurt. He leaned farther in and had the absurd thought that the trunk was big enough for all the Hunter's gear plus a grown man's body.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for, extracting a clear vial from the far corner of the trunk. Why the Hunters needed vials like this, he had no clue, but he remembered Galloway having at least four on hand at any given time.

He wished he'd asked her why.

Carefully, he used a claw to remove the wax and thread seal around one of the bottles of demon blood.

"A little help?" he muttered. He wouldn't risk spilling even a drop.

Can we have some? the darkness returned, threads poking curiously at the glass. 

In answer, Sirius slashed open the palm of his left hand, letting the darkness fall eagerly on his own blood rather than risking Valentia being stingy over every last bit.

Once satiated, it meandered over to the open bottle, dipping inside. He watched intently as it piped the deep scarlet substance into the vial, capping it when it was full. 

Sirius tucked the vial into his back pocket carefully before using the lighter he'd also stolen from Rick to reseal the wax around the opening of the bottle. After making sure the bottle was properly sealed, and tucked an extra jacket he found around them just in case, he shut and locked the trunk with care.

The blood carefully cradled in his palm, he started walking, not looking forward to this meeting in the least. Valentia wouldn't be pleased with him after leaving like he had, tearing through the people partying when he'd smelled the other Hellhounds. He'd remembered the warm spray of blood, but he was pretty sure he hadn't killed anybody.

Maimed, possibly, but there definitely hadn't been enough blood to account for someone dying.

His lip curled back from sharpened teeth. Valentia could go to hell for all he cared about what she cared... but that didn't stop the fact that he was very dependent on her answer tonight concerning the demon blade. 

So he grit his teeth, walking a little faster, trying not to think about what he would have to do to get back into her good graces. Then he stopped dead, staring down at the sidewalk, eyes tracing the cracks in the concrete.

For once in his life, there were lines he wouldn't cross.

He could feel them like a physical thing. Chains that wrapped around his heart, making it impossible to disentangle himself from them.

He wouldn't touch her. Couldn't touch her if he wanted to be specific. The very idea of touching any woman other than Galloway ever again sickened him. 

With a vicious growl, he kept walking. His night had just gotten a lot more difficult. 

He got to the building he wanted, and darkness allowed him to slip past the heavy metal of the front door. Fingers trembling a little, he slid the vial back into his pocket and climbed the punctured metal stairs slowly, wanting to be almost anywhere but here. 

When he got to the black door at the top of the dim staircase, he pressed a single finger into the corner of his eye, trying to alleviate the pounding headache he'd found himself with. His throat constricted and his chest ached.

He didn't want to be here.

In the music pounding through the door, he thought he could hear her screaming for him—begging him to save her.

That thought snapped him into action, and he remembered what he was really doing here. This wasn't about Valentia. It wasn't even about him.

He slammed the side of his fist once into the door, then leaned against the frame, waiting.

Before long, the door cracked open, revealing a suspicious green eye. Sirius cocked his head, hoping that he was managing the little sideways, slightly apologetic smile he was attempting. The eye narrowed, but the door opened completely to reveal a rail-thin woman with deep black hair staring at him disdainfully.

The horrible realization that he would still have to play the game for this night to work in his favor hit him like a tidal wave. He swallowed a frustrated growl, and let his gaze wander over her, because it was expected.

Her tight red dress left little to the imagination, but he couldn't find it in him to enjoy the view. The nagging image of the fine, clean, strong lines of Galloway's body invaded his mind. His gaze snapped back up.

The woman pursed her crimson lips. "What are you doing here?"

"Something pressing came up," he said, trying to smooth his voice. "But I'm still here to talk about a trade."

Valentia looked him up and down, her gaze like venom on his exposed skin. He resisted the urge to brush a hand over his arm to rid himself of the sensation.

"Oh?" she asked, raising a dark eyebrow. "I didn't appreciate you leaving the way you did. What was so pressing you had to nearly disembowel poor Monica?"

"You know how it is working for Hell," he said slyly, but with just enough bite to make her frown. "They say jump, you just ask how high."

"I'm just a contractor, Sirius. They don't hold my leash."

He ignored the unsubtle jab. His eyes flicked up, the sounds from the never-ending party going on behind her assaulting his senses. Valentia continued to bar his way, making him sigh and lean forward to speak in her ear. "I got your fucking blood. Do you want it, or do you want to keep up the slighted-mistress routine?"

A throaty chuckle brushed against his ear, and he had to force himself not to flinch away.

"Darling, if anyone were to slight me as their mistress, Hell would be the least of their worries." She stepped away from him, mustering a scarlet smile as she beckoned him inside. "It'll cost you."

"I've already got what you want," he reminded her, grabbing her elbow and backing her into a nearby corner.

She blinked slowly, her lips parting in expectation. He stared down into her eyes, trying to will them into turning grey. Steeling himself, he bent his head until he could feel her breath in his mouth. His heart threw itself against his ribs, rebelling, and his throat constricted.

He forced his lips to part, then held up the vial he'd taken from his pocket as soon as she'd answered the door.

Valentia's eyes zeroed in on the rich, red substance, then flicked up to his. He pulled away slightly, his anxiety easing when he could no longer taste the burnt-sugar flavor of her mouth. "I don't suppose that will cover the entrance fee," he said, giving her a teasing smile.

She slid her greedy gaze—something he had once found attractive—away from the vial. "Well," she said, voice sour, "it'll get you in the door."

Sirius smiled again, hoping it looked real, and tucked the vial into the front of her dress. She waited for a moment, but he just couldn't do it. Her eyes narrowed when he didn't kiss her, and she stepped around him. 

With an elegant flick of her twiggy wrist, she led him across the room. "My people are bringing it here tonight."

"You told me you had it," he growled.

She tossed her curly hair as they wove their way through the crowd dancing and drinking. "I never said where I had it."

"How long until they get here?" His heart sank straight through the floor when she led him to one of the brightly colored loveseats scattered around the edges of the room. 

Valentia sat, gracefully crossing her long legs, and patted the cushion next to her. He closed his eyes briefly, then regretted it when an image of Galloway frowning at all of this greeted him. At least this time she was just inside his head.

His eyes snapped open and he sat down, trying not to think when Valentia draped her legs across his lap and wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders.

She skimmed her teeth lightly against the corner of his jaw, and he fought against a sudden wave of nausea. He could have sworn he heard Galloway's hiss of disgust.

It was drowned out when Valentia put her mouth next to his ear. "You seem out of sorts, Sirius. Tense, you know? It'll be a little while before they get here. Why don't you unwind a bit? Relax."

Impossible.

His eyes slitted, but before he could reject her offer, she grabbed his chin, guiding his gaze to the table in front of them. He hadn't paid it any attention before. The mirror-like surface showcased several lines of sparkling, vibrant blue powder.

She released him and leaned back.

Slowly he dragged his eyes away to find her watching him in amusement, chin propped on her hand. With a girlish giggle, she said, "I seem to recall you having a certain fondness for my poisons. Though," her lips fell into a pout, "you didn't bother with these the last time I saw you."

Sirius' eyes wandered back to the table. "I... was working."

"Mm," she hummed before tapping the front of her dress where the vial of blood was. "For some reason I think you're between jobs at the moment."

A shudder ran through him when he remembered why he hadn't played with any of the harder substances the last time he was in Vegas. He had thought Galloway would disapprove. Even way back then the idea had bugged him.

But she's not here to see you now, a wicked voice in the back of his mind said.

He didn't think that was the darkness. 

As he continued to hesitate, Valentia laughed. "Don't tell me you've jumped on the wagon, Sirius?" She pouted again. "You'd be much less fun that way."

She had no idea.

Valentia nudged him with an elbow, and he turned to find her holding out what appeared to be a thin straw made of pure crystal, translucent and perfect. His breath wavered and he couldn't deny that his mind wanted it.

Badly.

Part of him, one growing suddenly louder, wanted to give in and dull the pain, dull every memory and thought he might have about her, even if it was only a very momentary relief.

His words stilted, his mind still fighting his heart, he rasped, "What is it?"

Don't do this, she whispered, voice pleading.

He didn't know if he would.

Valentia raised a dark eyebrow, then shrugged. "From Colombia, mostly. I added in my own special kicker."

The music pounded against his ears, the salt-sweat smell of too many humans in one place mixing weirdly with the varying scents of different supernaturals present stinging his nose. Valentia catered to everyone and everything. 

But his eyes were trained solely on the glittering powders. When Valentia said kicker, she could mean anything from fairy blood to vetala venom. He wasn't a stranger to any of her experiments, seeing as how none of her concoctions could kill him.

But there was something to be said for the quality of the high. That powder could send him to heaven, hell or anything in between, and he wouldn't know until he tried.

Don't. Her voice was plaintive this time, making him bow his head a little.

Valentia tapped the crystal lightly against the back of his hand, the cool stone making a shiver run over his suddenly too-tight, too-warm skin.

"I think it'll take three for you."

For the record, I so don't condone drug use. Kills your brain and various other body parts... unless you happen to be a Hellhound.

This chapter took me two damn weeks to write. Sorry for the delay but school.