"Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

                                                                              ***

Galloway pulled up to the abandoned house and leaned forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel. Taking shaky breaths, she wiped at her eyes and cheeks, trying to calm herself down.

She had become more hysterical the farther she'd gotten from the hospital. A goodbye had never felt more permanent. Her chest and eyes ached as she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Wiping at her face one last time, she looked at her dim reflection in the dark window.

Then, she shook her head. She couldn't bring herself to care if he knew she'd been crying.

Turning to look at the house, she frowned when she didn't hear anything stirring. She'd half expected Sirius to come flying outside as soon as she'd parked. Panic fluttered through her veins, and she darted up the creaky front steps, throwing the door open.

"Sirius!" she hissed.

No answer.

Galloway made a lap around the first floor before she ran up the stairs. Abandoning the initial instinct to be quiet, she yelled, "Sirius!"

Throwing open door after door, her chest tightening with every moment she didn't find him, Galloway whirled back around. She flew down the stairs, then went toward the front door. 

No no no no. 

Feeling like all the blood in her body had pooled and been overheated in the pit of her stomach, she refused to acknowledge that he wasn't here. Getting angry now, she shrieked his name one more time.

"I'm right here."

His voice came from behind her, and she whipped around to find him standing in a dark doorway leading to what she assumed was a basement. Relief so intense it was almost unpleasant swept through her and she crashed into him, burying her face in the side of his neck.

Sirius' arms went around her and she shook as he held her. Angrily, she said, "Next time answer me!"

"Were you worried?" he asked, and she couldn't believe he actually had the gall to be making fun of her right now.

Jerking away from him, she crossed her arms and hissed, "You're not the only one allowed to lose their mind a little bit here."

"Call it payback," he said carelessly, and she punched his shoulder. Giving her a martyred look, he rubbed his arm, sticking his tongue out at her.

This made her roll her eyes. "Why didn't you answer me? There's no way you didn't hear me."

"I did, but I was busy." With that, he gestured to his chest and she stared at him in confusion for a second.

Galloway blinked, then focused on the dark, wet stain high on the left side of his shirt. Slowly, she met his gaze and asked, "What were you doing in the basement?" 

He looked away from her, and she finally registered the sweat beading on his brow and the pale cast of his skin.

Her stomach heaved as the spot on his chest grew steadily larger, and she stepped closer. "What did you do?" She looked at his fingers to find them stained black. Lunging forward, she grabbed his collar and repeated, "What did you do?"

Before he could answer, she undid the first four buttons of his shirt and tore the fabric to the side. Her fingers went numb, dropping away from his collar and she stepped back, shaking her head. 

Jagged lines were cut into his skin, bleeding and raw, the five-pointed star integrated into the scars already present. The cuts were unsteady, deeper in some places than in others. She realized his fingers must have twitched, making the lines tears instead of clean cuts.

Looking down again, she found that his fingers were still twitching. 

"What did you do?" she asked, her voice nothing but a whisper this time.

Sirius practically fell into a nearby armchair that sagged under him, dust puffing up in a cloud. She hesitated for a moment, then knelt down in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs.

His pupils were blown out and she could smell some kind of alcohol on him. Reaching up slowly, she twitched the fabric of his shirt aside, examining the pentagram. Blood continued to bead up, trailing inky lines down his chest. Gently, she touched the edge of the circle and he twitched away from her, whining.

He grabbed her hand, pulling it away from the cut, and rasped, "It'll stay open for about two days—the scar could last a month. That's plenty of time to get the demon blade."

"You did this?" she whispered. Meeting his eyes, she said, "Why? Why would you do something like this to yourself?"

"I said you weren't going to get hurt because of me." He closed his eyes, slumping to the side and slurring a little. "I'm not getting possessed just 'cause you don't have the stomach to carve a couple little lines in me."

She gaped at him, then flew to her feet. Her hands were in fists, her eyes wide. Blue glimmered dully at her as he opened his eyes halfway. She opened her mouth to start yelling at him, then sighed, shaking her head. 

Walking over, she glared down at him, but couldn't actually muster the ability to berate him even if she wanted to. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was probably right.

And she wasn't going to punish him for wanting to protect her.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. Carefully, she curled up in his lap, her head on his shoulder, staring at the still bleeding wound. His fingers brushed her cheek and she said, "You're freaking insane."

A laugh huffed out of him, making the muscles in his chest contract, inspiring a fresh well of blood. Turning his face so that he was speaking into her hair, he said, "I think that says more about you than it does about me." Galloway looked up, raising an eyebrow. He managed a small smile before saying, "You're the one who came back."

"Phew." She turned her head away as her eyes watered. Holding the back of her hand to her nose, she asked, "What were you drinking? Paint thinner?"

He laughed, resting his chin on her head. "Kids must come here to party. There was some homemade stuff downstairs and patrol cars have been around twice so far."

"So," she started, then frowned, "you just found some...whatever and decided it would be a good idea to drink it?"

He shrugged, then whined when it irritated the wound. Groaning, he let his head fall back to rest on the cushion. "I thought it'd take the edge off."

"Or make you go blind," she murmured. She pressed her lips to the side of his throat.

They were silent for a second until she flipped the material of his shirt back, hiding the ugly, bleeding lines. Without saying anything, she went out to the car and returned with a bandage and some tape. Kneeling down in front of him again, she cleaned the blood away as best she could before he caught her hands.

"It won't scar as badly if you treat it," he muttered.

She pulled her hands free. Scowling at him, she replied, "That's kind of the idea."

This made him frown, shifting as she attempted to place the pad of sterile material over the raw lines in his skin. When she hissed softly, he said, " Since when do you have a problem with scars?"

There was something vaguely vulnerable in that question. Concentrating on where she was placing the tape, she said, "I don't. Unless they happen to be my fault."

He snorted, closing his eyes as she finished. After fixing the buttons on his shirt, she settled back into his lap. She made a point to kiss a burn scar his collar couldn't hide completely and could practically feel him rolling his eyes. Resting her head once more on his shoulder, she let the silence build between them.

With a small sigh, he muttered, "He kissed you. The Hunter."

She closed her eyes, knowing that it had only taken him this long to ask because he'd been bleeding. Cautiously, she nodded once. "Caleb knows he didn't mean it as much as I know he didn't mean it."

"Then why'd he do it?" he asked, tone a little flat.

"What? 'Cause you've never done or said something you didn't mean?" She scoffed lightly. When he growled, she sighed and said, "Sometimes you have to try a few things to figure out how you care about someone." When he didn't respond, she braved looking up to find him staring blankly across the room. Tentatively, she said, "What? No fight?"

"No need," he said, blinking away his glazed look. "You're here, aren't you?"

Galloway bit at her lip, surprised that this hadn't caused more of a fight. Then she wondered if maybe he was just tired of fighting.

Like he knew what she was thinking, Sirius sighed and said, "It just occurred to me that if I was in his position, I would kiss you too."

Her eyebrows shot up. "That sounds suspiciously like empathy, Sirius. You better be careful. Someone might think you care."

He snorted, his fingers wrapping around her shoulder to hold her closer. "I don't care how he feels about it. I just remember what it was like to want to kiss you and not get to."

Scowling at nothing, she muttered, "So close, yet so far."

The stain left on his shirt was mocking her, and she whispered, "You're really going to bleed for two days?"

"Mm," he hummed thoughtfully. "About that. That's usually how long it took to heal up after the fights."

She sighed, closing her eyes, just for them to pop back open. "Fights?"

Giving her a wan smile, he said, "It's not just skeevy humans in Chicago who like to watch two creatures fight for blood. Big sport down south."

Shaking her head, her lips parted in horror, she said, "Dog fights?"

"Hellhound fights." Now his smile got a little wicked. "If it makes you feel any better, I left with odds a hundred to one in my favor." He laughed. "How do you think Khali lost his eye?"

She slumped back against the arm of the chair, and he cocked his head at her, lashes lowered. Her lips parted, but then she shut her mouth, really not sure what to say. His mouth pressed together, the movement so tiny as to be unnoticeable, and she finally said, "Is that why you want to kill them?"

"Because of the fights?" he asked, looking confused. "To be honest, the fights were some of the better times I had down there."

"For everything." She hesitated. "For revenge?"

His eyebrows drew together. He blinked twice at her before his eyes slitted and he said, "We're not backing down on the demon blade."

"I never said that!" she protested.

"You were thinking it," he countered. Wincing, he reached up and grasped her chin. His tone was a low growl. "Anything else from Hell that comes near you I want dead. This has nothing to do with me, sweetheart."

A heavy sigh blew from her nose. She grabbed his wrist, gently pulling his hand away from her face. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm tired of killing people whose only crime was that they didn't know about the things in the dark."

"You killed people who made Deals with those things in the dark." At the harsh words, he winced, then sighed. "You don't have to make up for something you couldn't control, Galloway."

"Then why do I still feel so damn guilty?" she asked viciously, then pressed her face into his shoulder. "Even if you are right, killing whatever poor sap the demon's wearing will make me actually guilty."

She felt his muscles shift as he shook his head. "Then I'll kill them."

Her breath burst out of her. A small sound of disbelief. Her fingers knotted themselves in the hem of his shirt, and she said, "How does that make it better?"

"How does it not?" Sirius pushed at her shoulder, forcing her back so she had to look at him. Raising his eyebrows, he said, "I already told you. I have no qualms about being the one in the blood and mud."

She just shook her head. "It matters because they shouldn't be dead."

He looked up, his jaw working. "We've had this argument, I won, and you're just doing this because you saw that Hunter of yours and want to be all selfless." He looked down, pinning her with a glare. "Well, dammit Galloway, I am very comfortable with being selfish. And what's worse is that you know I'm right. You know they need to die."

She held her silence, biting her lip and slanting her eyes away from him. When he sighed, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Rubbing at his eyes with fingers that were still stained black, he said, "I'm not saying you have to like it, but you have to accept that the ends are going to justify the means here."

"Said any maniac ever," she responded waspishly.

"Yeah, well, since we're currently not trying for world domination, you know that's a line of crap. Please look at me." His tone instantly pulled her gaze up to his. With some difficulty, he brought both hands up to cup her face and said, "I don't necessarily care about closing the gates. I don't care how this will probably keep a whole bunch of people from getting possessed or killed. I honestly couldn't give a damn about how this crazy plan of yours is going to help anyone else."

Brushing his thumb along her cheekbone, he continued, "Honestly I think it could be a bit of a mistake. Things like this tend to have a way of biting you in the ass. But I know that locking the demons away for good will keep you breathing. So I'm willing to risk literally anything to make that happen."

"You are really not doing your argument any favors," she hissed.

Never letting his gaze waver, he said, "They'll kill and keep killing until you stop them. For good. You knew that three days ago, after the diner, and part of you still knows it. That's why you're fighting it so hard. Because you don't like the fact that you can accept that sometimes people need to die."

Galloway was pretty sure she didn't like how he could pluck the uglier version of herself so easily from the dark.

Brushing a loose strand of her hair back, he said, "Your dad said it—you've got something important. Something to give to the world. But to do that, you're going to have to let the abyss stare back. You're going to have to do, or let happen, things that don't mesh well with that Hunter conscience of yours."

She was sure he could see her caving just as easily as she had seen him. And she hated the fact that she was giving in so quickly.

"You fight dirty," she muttered, knowing he would understand the roundabout capitulation.

He huffed out another laugh, pulling her into his chest once again. Her fingers played with a stained button, trying to adjust to the idea that it would be worse before it was better.

It was just that, it had been worse for so long, she kind of felt like she had long ago earned her better.

Sirius pressed his lips to her hair, then to her temple. Looking up, she let her mouth meet his. Making sure she didn't bump the pentagram, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, letting herself get lost for a few blissful moments. His hand pressed into the side of her waist and she sighed.

"Honey," he muttered, and she immediately pulled away, raising an eyebrow. Rolling his eyes, he said, "You kind of taste like honey, too. But only a little."

With a small laugh, she realized he was adding to the list of things she supposedly tasted like. He leaned forward a little, kissing the corner of her jaw, just under her ear before whispering, "I hear Vegas is nice this time of year."

"Vegas isn't nice any time of the year," she grumbled, then sighed. "Can we go in the morning? I don't want you bleeding all over my car."

He gave her a wounded expression, then motioned for her to get up. With effort, he got to his feet as well and threw an arm over her shoulder. Speaking into her ear, he said, "I didn't spend the whole time engaging in self-mutilation, you know."

She shuddered, reluctantly looking at his chest once more. Biting her lip, she said, "I hate that you did that to yourself."

His smile was patient, almost patronizing. "I'm not lying when I said it was just a couple little lines. The worst was doing it myself. It's hard keeping your hand steady doing something like that."

She resisted the urge to cover her ears like a two-year-old. Letting him pull her toward the stairs, she decided to do the slightly less childish thing, and just changed the subject. "If there's a mattress up there, it'll be all manky and gross."

He gave her a dry look over his shoulder, then said, "Just shut up and look, would you?"

Following him down the hallway, she entered one of the rooms to find what looked like some sort of tea or sewing room. Briefly, she wondered just how old this place was, then saw the pallet of clean blankets on the floor.

Sirius waved his good arm around and said, "It smelled the least musty and..."

She sighed, "Stolen from a nearby house?"

Shrugging, he went to his knees, then stretched out cautiously on the blankets, babying his left side. "We can return them if you care that much."

The urge to laugh had her pressing her lips together into a thin line, but eventually, she just lay down next to him, throwing a blanket over the both of them. She wiggled around until her head was next to his, her breath making the hair around his ear flutter.

Turning his head to look at her, he didn't say anything for a long time. She bit at her lip, wanting desperately to know what he was thinking. He whispered, "You never went to the fights?"

She scoffed. "I didn't go to Hell unless I absolutely had to."

A laugh was huffed out through his nose. He kissed her and murmured, "Didn't want to slum it with the rest of us?"

"Not a huge fan of playing for blood, or paying for it," she whispered back.

"But that is just my game," he said with a slight drawl and she giggled.

Tilting her head, she said, "That movie had the greatest lines. Except how did Doc get three rounds out of a double-barrel shotgun?"

"Movie magic," he replied around a yawn. "Who cares about accuracy anyway?"

She snorted, then kissed him one last time before laying down and closing her eyes.

Galloway couldn't help but think they were driving toward their own O.K. Corral, and just wondered if it would be their blood or the demons' that soaked the sand by the end of it.

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For anyone unfamiliar with the reference, it's Tombstone with Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer. That movie has some of the single greatest lines ever, with the glaring exception of one.