"If we are always looking back, we will drive ourselves insane."

- Bastille

                                                                                 ***

She stared up at Sirius blankly. "What do you mean?"

He narrowed his eyes at her like he was trying to focus. "Just what I said."

Galloway shook her head, making the room spin. "No. No you don't just get to say something like that, Sirius! What do you mean I shouldn't have been made into a Collector? It wasn't exactly my idea, you know. Theron offered me the job."

Sirius sat at the table, looking exhausted. All he offered her was a shrug, making fury spark deep in the pit of her stomach. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look her in the eye. He narrowed his eyes at her, his teeth lengthening ever so slightly, and she heard the smallest click of claws on glass. 

Slowly, saying each word distinctly, she said, "What do you mean, Sirius?"

"You're too different," he snarled softly, jerking away from her.

"Care to expand on that?" she snapped.

He growled, the sound low and threatening. "No. Not particularly."

She slammed her hands down onto the top of the table. "Too damn bad. Start talking, Sirius, or this is going to get ugly."

Sirius bared his teeth at her and spat, "It's not a get out of Hell free card! They look for something particular, peculiar if you'd prefer, when they're screening for a new Collector. I've seen murderers, Galloway. Liars and thieves and rapists and cheats. Cruel people. Bad people. The heartless ones. People who had something broken in them to begin with."

He inhaled deeply before continuing, "Those are the people who get turned into Collectors. Not people like you. Not people who try to save people. Who sell their Souls for someone else. Not the people who become broken after the fact. Not you, Galloway!"

Her breath was rough in her throat, coming too quickly, her eyes wide and cheeks pale. Sirius released an irritated breath. "There's just—there's something wrong with you, Galloway. Nothing about your situation is right and it...it's dangerous. It's dangerous."

The room filled with a dead, heavy silence as they looked at each other, the aftermath of what Sirius had said scattered like sharp debris between them. 

"Wrong with me?" she echoed.

"Where Hell is concerned, yeah." He spoke softly now, like he was trying to piece it all back together. "Galloway." He waited until she was looking at him before he asked, "Theron was the one who made your Deal?"

Numb now, she nodded mechanically.

"Are you sure?"

"I think I would remember something like that, Sirius," she hissed, still feeling oddly detached. "Yes. Theron took over my contract. He had me sign the papers. He cast the spell."

"Are you sure he held up his end of the bargain?" Sirius asked.

Confusion now taking center stage, she nodded slowly. "Yeah. He brought them back."

"Did he know they were Hunters?"

She was starting to feel a little overwhelmed by his rapid-fire questions and wondered what exactly he was getting at, if he was getting at anything. She bit her lip. "I don't know. I don't think so, otherwise he wouldn't have brought them back, right?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then stopped abruptly, frowning, like he hadn't thought of that. Finally, he asked, "When did you make your Deal?"

"Around '38," Galloway answered, dodging her memories again.

"How old were you?"

Her mouth opened in surprise and she said, "Eight."

Sirius gave her a look of pity that she was sure she wasn't supposed to see. 

Anger swirled up again and she said, "Hunters don't have the luxury of waiting to grow up, Sirius. Only Hunter parents really know how ugly the world is. How easily everything can go to shit. You grow up fast. I knew exactly what I was doing."

She laughed, the sound harsh. "Don't try to tell me that Theron's above making Deals with kids. You and I both know that's a lie. Theron would do anything it took to get another Soul in the logbooks. It's about the numbers with him. Nothing else."

"You don't know what killed your family, do you?" Sirius asked, ignoring what she'd said.

The memory of finding them dead tried to claw its way to the forefront and Galloway had to fight to keep it down, shoving it back into the box in the darkest corner of her mind. When it was locked precariously away, she said, "There were none of the usual signs. Their hearts weren't missing, so it wasn't werewolves. There was too much blood for it to be vampires. Shifters always, always leave that nasty goo behind, because they shift when they make contact with living tissue. There was no way they wouldn't have made contact with tissue. Not with...not with the way they were killed."

She swallowed hard, the sour taste of bile rising in her throat. "We didn't have any immediate problems with a witch and we didn't find any hex bags anyway. There were no cursed objects in the house and it wasn't haunted. Dad had made sure as soon as we moved in. If it had been some kind of deity, they would have been eaten, not torn into confetti. And there would have been evidence of some kind of ritual if that was the case. Not even the most seasoned Hunter could tell me what had done it."

"Sounds like a Hellhound to me," Sirius said flatly.

Galloway's knees gave as the world spun and she crouched down, trying to draw air into her lungs. She had always avoided that thought, because it would inevitably lead to a question she couldn't consider. Gasping, she choked out, "No. That's not possible. There is nothing that my parents would have made a Deal for. My brothers weren't old enough. My sister was two. Hellhounds only kill Debts."

Struggling to remember how to breathe, she looked up at him and hissed, "Hellhounds aren't allowed off their leash."

She knew that wasn't polite. It wasn't nice. But she didn't care. Because the deaths of her family still felt as raw and fresh as when she'd opened the front door to find them that way. She died a little every time she thought about it, and she thought about it all the time. It didn't matter that they'd been brought back to live their lives without her. She had lost them that day, no matter how she looked at it.

Still speaking very softly, like he was sure she would shatter if he was any louder, Sirius said, "Demons kill that way too, Galloway."

Now she had something to cling to. "Demons aren't allowed up here. They can't come up here unless they're really powerful like Theron, or if they're summoned. They have to be summoned, Sirius. No one in a family of Hunters would do something as stupid as summon a demon." Building up steam, she said, "That's why Hell has to have Collectors! Because we still have Souls. Only Souls can stay up here. Only Souls can travel easily between the dimensions. Otherwise, demons would be up here in droves."

He looked at her uncertainly and she said, "It wasn't a demon, Sirius. And it wasn't a Hellhound. It couldn't have been." Softly, to herself now, she repeated, "It couldn't have been."

Sirius was quiet, though he didn't look like he really believed her. He sighed and refilled his glass, finger tapping against the side of it, making the dark amber liquid ripple. He rubbed a hand down his jaw. "Maybe you're right. Maybe Theron was just short on Collectors and saw you as an opportunity."

Galloway nodded, feeling like her insides had been put in a blender, then poured back into her, all shaken up. She sat on the floor, slumping forward a little, eyes half closed, feeling sick. But she couldn't tell if that was because of the emotional rollercoaster, or because of the whiskey. Alcohol poisoning was another of those things that wouldn't kill her, but it would still kick her ass.

Sirius downed his drink, and they sat in a thick silence for a long time. Until she remembered something he had said earlier. Slurring a little, she said, "One truth deserves another."

"Hm?" Sirius asked, sounding lost in thought.

She hauled herself to her feet with the table's help and squinted at him. "One truth deserves another. That's what you said. So what's your truth, Sirius? What could you possibly tell me that would match my truth?"

His eyes soft, he said, "I told you my truth the first night I met you, Galloway."

"You told me a half truth. I believe you killed your last Collector. I don't believe it was because he wouldn't take no for an answer," Galloway's voice dropped, imitating him and he sighed, closing his eyes.

"The room is spinning clockwise," he muttered, opening them and looking around.

Galloway looked up, easily distracted. "No it isn't. It's spinning counterclockwise."

Sirius laughed. "Maybe together we're actually sober." His smile dropped and he looked at the empty glass on the table. "God I hope not."

"Why'd you do it, Sirius?" Galloway asked, leaning forward. But she underestimated how unsteady she was and tipped too far forward.

She closed her eyes in a resigned sort of way, waiting for the floor to come up and hit her. But it never did. Instead, she felt a strong arm catch just under her ribs, pulling her into a solid body. She leaned against Sirius, dazed and apparently very drunk.

With her head resting on his shoulder, she whispered, "It's only fair, Sirius."

"Since when has life ever been fair?" he murmured into her hair, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.

She was feeling drowsy and disconnected from her body.

"I stopped him from collecting."

Galloway opened her eyes but didn't move, waiting.

Sirius sighed and the movement pressed his chest into her arm. "He didn't share details with me like you do. He just pointed me in the right direction. But I saw what it was this time. Some demon bitch had made a Deal with a damn kid. Twelve years old, just screwing around. Like you said, Crossroads Demons can only come topside when they're summoned, and only Hunter kids know what they're doing when a Deal is made. This kid wasn't a Hunter. Not even close."

He sighed and Galloway wasn't breathing anymore, afraid that if she moved, he'd stop.

"It was just an excuse, acting like I thought the Deal made with the kid was a mistake so I couldn't collect," he said flatly. "I didn't care that he was a kid when he made the Deal. It just didn't matter. What mattered was that the week before, he'd beat the hell out of me with Theron's permission after claiming that I wasn't working with him properly. I hated him more than anything else I'd ever come across. He was a bastard son of a bitch if there ever was one. My Collector," Sirius clarified, even though he didn't have to.

He put his hands on Galloway's waist, pushing her back a little so that she was looking at him now. "I botched it on purpose and he found out. He tried to make me pay for it. Tried to punish me again. And I tore his throat out. I tore his throat out and enjoyed the taste of his blood. Like I said, that wasn't the first time he'd put hands on me, but it damn sure was the last."

She swallowed, her throat dry. Sirius looked up at her, his eyes like blue fire. "Hell took me back, and I spent seven years in the pits before Theron pulled me out and handed me off to you."

Well, Galloway thought, now I know why he has all those scars.

She shivered. She'd been shown the pits once before, as a warning from Theron, and wondered how Sirius had spent seven years down there without emerging insane and broken beyond repair.

"Do you mean seven years up here? Or seven actual years down there?" Galloway whispered.

His hands tightened on her waist and he said, "Seven hundred Hell years. I didn't walk the Earth for seven."

Galloway felt like the air had been pulled from her lungs and bit her lip, horrified.

"Seven hundred years of them finding different ways to pull me apart. For them to test what, exactly, silver would do to a Hound. Anything you can imagine and so much more that you can't." Sirius' eyes burned hotter, but the heat was only from memories, dancing like shadows in his blue eyes.

Galloway wished she hadn't asked, but at the same time she felt like they were even.

Sirius shook his head hard, like he was physically trying to knock away the memories and he looked up at her with a small, grim smile. "Happy now?"

"Never," she muttered, brushing some hair back from his face. "I'm never happy. You should know that by now, Sirius."

He was looking at her mouth again. "Happiness is overrated anyway."

He placed a warm hand on the back of her neck, and she knew she wasn't going to stop him. Whatever he wanted, whatever he was going to do, she wasn't going to stop him. She didn't even want to.

She tilted her head forward, tasting mint as her lips parted. He always smelled like mint. Even when he'd been drinking.

Sirius caught her lower lip between his teeth, teasing, then he stopped, growing still.

She was just about to ask him what was wrong when he stood up abruptly and she finally hit the floor. His head snapped over and she jumped when someone banged on the door, the sound echoing through the room.

Sirius' nose wrinkled and he stepped back from the door, growling. Galloway stood, fighting to get her eyes to focus and stepped forward, only for Sirius to dive past her.

He threw the door open and snarled, "What are you doing here?"

Galloway took an unconscious step back when she saw who was at the door. He was another Hellhound and he was huge, probably somewhere north of six foot, his shoulders almost as wide as the door frame.

He had wild brown hair that didn't want to stay tamed in the tie at the nape of his neck and a jagged scar that ran up from his collar, over his jaw and crossed his face, leaving one eye milky white. The other was a startling red; a coal that burned into Galloway as he swept his gaze over her.

She had a sudden image in her mind of a snarling, feral mastiff and took another unconscious step back. Whereas elegant danger seemed to radiate from Sirius, the only thing that came from this Hound was a desire for blood, no matter whose it was.

Her eyes flicked down and she saw that his claws were extended, bloody in his nail beds.

In a deep rumble, the Hound said, "Don't you two look all cozy in here." He turned that burning eye on Sirius. "You're not making another mistake are you, Siri? I'd hate to have to take you back to the pits."

Sirius' lip curled. "You always were a terrible liar, Khali." His own claws extended. "I'm only going to ask once more. What are you doing here?"

"Thought I caught your scent in the city. Thought I'd say hello to an old friend." Khali sneered at Sirius before looking at Galloway again. He licked his lips and she fought down a shudder, raising her chin to glare at him.

"All that thinking in one day?" Sirius asked, tone acerbic. "That must have left you with a wonderful headache. Why don't you go find some snake hole to curl up in. I'm sure you'd feel right at home."

Khali's lip curled back, his teeth—already long and yellow—growing into fangs. He swiped a hand at Sirius but was too slow and looked down to find bloody claw marks tearing the skin of his arm.

Galloway scrambled over the bed to her bag and grabbed her gun. It wouldn't kill Khali, but it would slow him down enough for Sirius to finish the job.

She was shocked when Khali laughed and looked up at Sirius. "Still a quick little bitch, aren't you?"

"We've played this game before, Khali," Sirius said with a feral grin. "You're not my type, and I'd hate to ruin my shirt killing you."

Khali snarled but took a step back. "It was good to see you, Sirius." He looked once more at Galloway.

He opened his mouth but Sirius hissed, "Say one more word and I'll gut you, Khali. I swear it."

Khali smirked but left, and Sirius slammed the door shut after him.

He turned to look at Galloway but all she did was shake her head. Gravely, he said, "He wasn't just here to say hi."

Her head already pounding, she said, "My toast is burnt, Sirius. I wouldn't care if he was here to sell Girl Scout cookies. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

She turned out the lights and slid under the covers.

He must have thought she was asleep when he left, pulling the door shut behind him quietly.