"Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin."

-Barbara Kingsolver

                                                                             ***

Galloway was crying. She didn't want to, but she couldn't stop. The water had run cold a long time ago and the tears burned hot and fast down her face.

She couldn't shake the image of the Debt from earlier tonight. Couldn't stop seeing the pictures of the happy life he had managed to carve out of the twenty-five years allotted to him after he made his Deal. The pictures of his wife and children kept looking at her, condemning her, and she couldn't help but think that Sirius had been right.

One way or the other, Galloway was going to lose her Soul.

Eventually—maybe even inevitably—she ran out of tears and the cold water was numbing more than her skin. Slowly, she got out and dried off, doing everything in her power to avoid meeting the gaze of her reflection.

Part of her wondered idly if she even had a reflection anymore. Things without Souls weren't supposed to have reflections right?

This thought sent a painful chill through her and she looked up, sighing in relief when she saw the familiar pale grey eyes, straight nose, full lips. A chin that wasn't soft, but drawn in sharp lines and the freckle just on the corner of her jaw.

She'd inherited her mother's thick blonde hair and her father's piercing eyes.

She smiled bitterly, wanting to laugh at her own absurd notions. That was just a story. Mirrors reflected evil just as easily as they reflected the mundane. It was the good that people searched for in vain, staring into these judgemental pieces of glass.

She got dressed gingerly, knowing that it wasn't her body that was sore. It was her mind, her Soul, the very core of her existence. And she just didn't think that the bottle of whiskey she'd bought on a whim would be enough to dull the pain. 

But she was sure as Hell going to give it a try.

When she went out into the room, she found Sirius contemplating the bottle. He looked over his shoulder at her and said, "Drinking game?"

"Since when do you need a game to drink?" Galloway asked, going for sardonic, but only really managing a mild sarcasm.

"There's nothing on TV," Sirius explained with an elegant shrug. He held up two glasses. "Come on. Higher-Lower. Truth or Dare or Drink, which, in its own way provides an answer one way or the other. Never Have I Ever." He grinned, his tone teasing, holding out a glass to her.

Reluctantly, she took it, giving it a considering glance. "We can't play Higher-Lower. We don't have a deck of cards."

"Which takes the possibility of strip poker away," Sirius mused, frowning. Then he seemed to catch up with what she had said. "But that's not a no."

She sat in one of the chairs at the table by the window and bit at her lip, thinking. Drinking alone had never seemed particularly healthy to Galloway. At least, drinking to the extent that she planned to tonight. He sat across from her and she said, "I'm not playing Truth or Dare."

"Afraid of the dare?" Sirius taunted.

Galloway shook her head. "I don't think you can come up with anything I haven't already done."

He blew out a breath, looking to the side before smiling wickedly at her. In that silken voice that gave her shivers, he said, "You shouldn't say something like that then leave it all up to my imagination."

She bit her lip, trying not to smile. "That's safer than giving you any details."

"Oh, I don't know," Sirius speculated. "I have a pretty good imagination."

The way he said that made her desperately want to put his statement to the test. She bit her lip, already knowing this was a horrible idea.

But she was so damn tired of fighting.

Drinking with him wasn't the same as sleeping with him but it certainly flirted with a dangerous line. Galloway was tired of trying to step back when the line just kept dragging her closer.

Sirius opened the bottle, a resonante pop sounding through the room, quickly followed by the sweet, woody smell of the bourbon. "I guess that leaves us with the last. Unless you have something a little more exotic?"

She shook her head, sitting cross-legged in the chair. Sirius poured and said, "Ladies first."

Galloway stared at the amber liquid in her cup and bit her lip, thinking. "Never have I ever..." She paused, having to think. She'd had a long damn life, sometimes it was difficult to remember what she had or hadn't done. She eventually decided to settle on something simple. Stupid really. "Eaten sauerkraut."

Sirius blinked at her, frowning. "Really? That's what you're going to start with?"

Galloway just shrugged and he smirked, nodding at her glass. She raised an eyebrow and he said, "Have you ever smelled that stuff? You think someone like me can even get near it?"

She actually believed that and took a sip of her drink.

He tipped back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling and said, "Never have I ever," he tilted his head in consideration, "killed a werewolf."

"You're a cheater," she said blandly, taking another sip.

"How many?" he asked, interested.

"Four or five," Galloway answered with a frown. "Weres are hard because you know that a lot of the time they just can't control themselves. It's not because they're evil or like killing or anything. At least, not with most of them." Looking at him, she said, "Never have I ever slept with a complete stranger."

"Now who's the cheater?" Sirius asked, finally having to drink. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't know if I believe you."

She actually managed a somewhat coy smile. "I always knew their names. If you know someone's name they aren't a complete stranger."

Sirius laughed outright. "Never have I ever..."

This went on for hours, until Galloway reached to pour and realized the bottle was empty. Sirius still had half a glass. She narrowed her eyes, feeling only slightly fuzzy and still very much in pain. She scowled  and said, "Never have I ever broken one of the rules."

He cut his eyes at her, then drained his glass. He slammed it down and got up, dragging her to her feet. "We need more."

Galloway shook her head, even though she more than kind of agreed with him. "Uh-uh. That's enough for tonight, Sirius."

He rolled his shoulders. "Says who?"

"Says, oof!" Her breath was knocked from her lungs when Sirius threw her over his shoulder.

He swayed, then righted himself and left the room, negotiating the stairs carefully. Galloway couldn't stop the small giggle that escaped as she tapped on his lower back. "Sirius, put me down. I can walk."

Sirius ignored her, continuing down the nearby sidewalk as he searched for a liquor store. She laughed again, pleasantly off balance as the blood rushed to her head.

But eventually she started feeling a little nauseous and said, "Sirius, if you don't put me down, I'm going to throw up."

He sighed and set her on her feet before grabbing her hand and pulling her with him, both of them weaving along the sidewalk. They knocked lightly into each other as they went, laughing every time they did. They walked farther from the motel they were staying in, the streets becoming narrower and dirtier.

There were a few people still on the streets, watching their progress. They kept their distance, like they could sense the otherness of Sirius and herself, some even going so far as to cross the street instead of passing them on the sidewalk. 

The city seemed to breathe with a life of its own, people moving like blood through streets like veins.

Muttering, Galloway said, "Neither of us ever sleeps."

"What?" Sirius asked, his eyes trained on something too far away for her to make out.

"The city," she clarified. "It doesn't sleep and neither do I."

"I sleep," Sirius offered absently, then he started pulling her down the sidewalk, toward whatever had caught his attention. "Kinda."

Galloway wanted to ask what kept him up, but was too busy focusing on keeping her feet as Sirius started to pick up the pace. She called to him when they passed a liquor store, but he ignored her, still heading toward something in particular.

She tried to wonder what he was headed toward, but decided she was just content to go along for the ride. She clung tightly to his fingers so she wouldn't lose him in the slowly thickening crowds. His fingers threaded easily through hers, warm and rough.

Sirius broke through a group of maybe ten people and turned to Galloway, sweeping her into him and spinning her around. Finally, she could make out the notes of the violin above the murmur of the crowd.

Whispering in her ear, he said, "You know how to dance, don't you, Galloway?"

She smiled and nodded and he started the step, finding something that matched the quick rhythm of the song. Her body fit naturally to his, moving with him easily as they spun about the circle of people, adding little flares and dips and jumps whenever the music asked them to.

Galloway closed her eyes briefly, trusting that Sirius wouldn't let her fall. She breathed a sigh of relief as warmth spread through her, obliterating her guilt the same way hunting did. A heady brightness seemed to fill her veins, like warm spring after bitter winter.

She opened her eyes and looked up to find Sirius staring down at her, his eyes a deep cobalt, shining with more than just the streetlights. The music suddenly slowed, mellowing, then it stopped. 

So did they.

Galloway stood there with Sirius' arm still around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest, his hand warm around hers. They were both breathing a little hard and she slid her hand further up his shoulder unthinkingly.

She jumped at the sudden sound of applause. He sighed but looked around with a charming grin before giving their audience a brief bow, pulling Galloway back toward the liquor store.

She gave a sigh of her own, pulled back suddenly to sanity and pain. Ripped from spring to be unkindly tossed into winter once more.

They went into the liquor store and meandered down the aisles, holding quiet debates over brands and types of liquor, eventually settling on a bottle of scotch for Sirius and more bourbon for herself.

They paid, then wandered back down the street, quietly this time.

Galloway walked along, lost in thought, trying to avoid memory, ignoring the gentle whirring sound interspersed with ticks behind her. She huffed in surprise when Sirius jerked her to the side, making her hit the wall. She watched as some idiot on a bike went flying past them, then looked up to find Sirius watching her intently, his hands pressed into the wall on either side of her shoulders.

"Why didn't you get out of his way?" Sirius asked.

"I didn't hear him," Galloway whispered. "He should have gone around me."

The side of Sirius' mouth pulled up at the corner and Galloway thought she heard him growl, then realized it was just the distant rumble of thunder. 

She had always loved the city after a good rain.

"Never have I ever sold my Soul," Sirius whispered.

"The drinks aren't open," she said softly.

"What made you a Collector, Galloway?" he asked. "Why would someone like you do something like this?"

"What does that mean?" she asked wearily. "Someone like me. Who am I, Sirius? A good person?" Galloway laughed derisively, pulling up a conversation they'd had months ago.

"I don't really know what you are," he murmured, looking at her through his lashes.

She bit her lip and said the first thing that slipped past her whiskey-honest brain. "I hate it when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Sirius was still murmuring and she wished he would stop using such low tones. They felt too intimate. Too private. Too much like there was more between them than there should be.

Galloway shifted, wiggling closer to the wall and farther away from Sirius. "Like what you're doing right now."

"You're avoiding the question." He shifted closer.

"We weren't playing Truth or Dare," Galloway reminded him. She could taste mint.

He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "One truth deserves another, Galloway."

He pulled away ever so slightly and she looked up into his gemstone eyes, ringed by those devastating lashes. She bit at her lip again and asked, "Why does it matter to you?"

"Hell if I know," Sirius answered, his voice raw. He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, never blinking.

She reached up and took his wrist gently. "Because it was either that, or become something I despise."

"Don't you despise yourself anyway?" Sirius asked, and her breath caught at how blunt he was being. She ducked under his arm and started walking.

He didn't say anything else until they got back to the room. He went over to the table and filled their glasses sloppily and Galloway said, "Yes."

He looked up. "What?"

"Yes, I despise myself. I despise being a Collector. I despise Hell and Theron." She stopped, trying to collect herself, then gave it up as a lost cause. "I despise being a Hunter. I despise you."

She took the glass he offered and drained it. She grimaced at the slight burn. "But of all the things I hate, I can't seem to hate you nearly enough."

"What was your Deal?" Sirius pushed once more.

Galloway poured one more drink. "That's a long story."

"I've got time," he offered, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. He patted the mattress but Galloway stayed where she was. She wasn't that drunk. Not yet.

She chewed on her lip for a moment, the whiskey there biting at her tongue. Sighing, she sank down against the wall, swirling her drink as she brought her knees up to her chest. Galloway stared blankly at Sirius for a moment, then said, "I was a Hunter before I was a Collector."

She started slowly. If she didn't control the story, then the story would control her and she was weak enough as it was.

"Hunting, it's a family business. I know that's cliched, but it's real. Only a Hunter can understand another Hunter. They're the only ones who share your loneliness, who understand why you live your life the way you do. They're the only ones who get that it's impossible to stop. That nothing—not love or money or even life—will pull you away from this thing that makes your blood run." Galloway smiled bitterly. "It's the most addictive drug out there. One that inevitably gets you killed."

She shrugged and took another sip. "Kills you fast, kills you slow. It doesn't matter. It only ends one way and you always know that no matter how much you do, how much you kill or suffer or lose, you will never, ever be able to do enough. People will still die because you didn't get there fast enough or they'll die because you were there to begin with. Only Hunters understand that.

"My parents were Hunters. My two older brothers. Eventually my baby sister would learn. We grew up with lore books as our bedtime stories. Our parents read to us about how to properly decapitate a vampire, or how to make our own silver bullets." She smiled at the memories, even as they tore painfully at her heart and mind.

"I guess nightmares are a rite of passage for Hunters," Sirius half joked and Galloway shook her head.

"Things that go bump in the night don't scare Hunter kids. The nightmares start after you lose your first friend. Or...when you realize it's not that easy to get someone back from the dead." Galloway looked down, unwilling to answer his question in a way that was any clearer.

He was smart enough to see it, though.

"You traded your Soul for someone else's?" Sirius asked, looking almost abashed. Briefly she wondered what he thought she had done.

"I'm not the first Hunter to have done it."

Sirius shook his head. "You're lying."

Her head snapped up as she glared at him. "Not even a little bit."

"You have to be," Sirius growled, meeting her glare with a fiery one of his own. "Hell wouldn't make a Hunter into a Collector. They'd just see how many times they could take you apart and put you back together before you become something you used to hunt."

Staring at him in stark horror, Galloway suddenly remembered why she had evaded this question so thoroughly. For all Hell knew, she had started hunting after she became a Collector, not before. To justify continuing the life, she had just reasoned that they would think she had developed a sudden taste for blood and satisfied it with supernaturals.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she stared at Sirius with wide eyes, half expecting him to disappear and tell Theron all about her little secret.

Sirius rubbed a hand over his mouth and took another drink. Wonderingly, he asked, "How did you do it? How did you keep them from screwing you over?"

"I lied," Galloway breathed out.

"Who'd you trade for?" he asked, his tone just as hushed as hers.

She didn't know why she kept talking. She shouldn't. "Everyone. My family was attacked by...something. I...I couldn't even tell what had done it."

Her throat tightened as she remembered finding her family in pieces, strewn about the living room. Blood splashed and sprayed and pooled everywhere. She hadn't even been able to tell her two brothers apart they had been so mutilated.

"The other Hunters I knew, they told me that that was just how it happened sometimes. They were sorry. But I didn't want them to be sorry. I wanted my family back." Galloway closed her eyes. "I went through every piece of lore. Every story. Every single thing that could possibly bring them back. I eventually stumbled over the Crossroads spell."

She downed the rest of her drink, stood up, poured herself another and drank that too before she said, "Theron was the one who changed my Deal. The demon I met originally, the one who met me at the crossroads, he would only bring back one of them."

She tilted her head back to look up at the low ceiling meditatively. "Theron said he'd bring them all back if I..."

"If you signed on the dotted line, no questions asked," Sirius finished for her and she nodded.

Whispering now, she said, "I didn't know it would end up like this. I didn't know I'd never get to see them again."

"What?" Sirius asked, his voice sharp and jolting.

"By that point I knew Theron was watching me, keeping an eye on his newest investment. I got to see my oldest brother once, ten years after I made the Deal. He didn't understand. He thought I'd run away because I didn't want to be a Hunter and begged me to come back with him. They had no idea they'd ever been dead." 

Galloway sighed, tears burning in her throat, pouring once more. She could practically feel the hangover already. "I thought it best that Hell didn't know of my...heritage. So I left them."

"Smart," Sirius muttered to himself. He stood and joined her by the table, refilling his own glass.

Looking down at her, he said, "They don't turn people like you into Collectors. I don't care if you managed to hide that little tidbit. You're too different, Galloway. You shouldn't be a Collector."

She shook her head, bewildered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sirius looked down into his glass darkly. "I don't know."