"You're the perfect drug, when it hurts like hell."

- My Darkest Days

                                                                           ***

Sirius knew he hadn't been unconscious for too long. The little sunlight sneaking past the drawn curtains of the window across from him was the thin, clear sunlight only present as the sun peeked over the horizon.

He'd left the Hunters just as the sky was turning grey.

He smiled slightly to himself, the dream still vivid in his mind. He could still taste her. A small peace radiated through him—the kind only she could bring, and he knew it was real. It had all been real.

Everything ached. His tongue was a dry stick in his mouth, the back of his throat a victim of some terrible scorched-earth tactic. His joints felt like rusted hinges, his muscles melted rubber. His eyes felt devoid of any moisture, shrivelled and loose in their sockets as he looked around.

Sirius was almost afraid to look at his wrists. They burned so fiercely he was sure the skin and flesh had been burned away, leaving nothing but scorched, useless bone. 

Still, that particular pain gave him bitter hope. Caleb should be feeling the same thing. It should be dragging him here in an effort of relief.

He was still tied to a chair and, judging by the smoky, sulfur scent in the air, he was bound with silver.

"He should be awake by now. Maybe not totally sober, but enough."

Sirius jumped as Valentia's voice echoed in his ears, and he looked around wildly, but he was alone as far as he could see. 

"You're kidding, right?" a different female voice responded. "He snorted half your stock! Do you even understand what I put in that?"

He realized he was hearing them through the door.

"To be fair, Mon, I didn't have very much in stock." Valentia sighed. "And you don't exactly know him like I do."

"I know he's screwing the Hunter bitch that killed my brother," Mon snarled, and Sirius' heart sank into his stomach.

"Was screwing," Valentia retorted. "She's in Hell, remember?"

"Not even half of what she deserves. Hunters," Mon sneered the word. "Always so self-righteous. Do you know what she did to Frank?"

Valentia just sighed again.

"She gutted him, Val!" Mon nearly shrieked. "Gutted him like a fish, then laughed like a fucking maniac when I finally caught up to her. Said he deserved what he got even when I made her choke on her own blood." There was a small silence. "Maybe I should return the favor. Besides, I still owe him for the other night. He ruined my favorite dress."

"Won't work," Valentia said off-handedly. "Gut him if you want. It won't kill him."

"It will if you give me that." 

Sirius closed his aching eyes, sending out thoughts desperately, hoping Sekhmet—hell, even hoping Persephone—was listening. 

"No," Valentia snapped harshly. "They want him alive."

Well that didn't sound like a particularly good thing. 

There was a sullen silence, then Mon asked, "How alive do they need him?"

His day was going to go from bad to worse—he could feel it.

"Ugh, fine. Just... don't do anything that will leave a permanent mark. You can have one hour with him. We'll need to leave enough time to let him heal up. They'll be here by noon."

"Thank you, darling," Mon cooed and Sirius swore under his breath.

"Don't touch his face," Valentia warned.

"Don't worry. That's not what I want to take from her."

Then the door was being flung open. Sirius turned his head slowly, a bored expression falling easily into place.

A woman with hair dyed a violent shade of blue and heavy eye-makeup slowly closed the door behind her. She was short and rake-thin, nearly as thin as Valentia, with nails like crimson claws.

"Well, hello, gorgeous," she said, smiling, the expression sickeningly sweet.

Sirius shook his head, flipping sweaty strands of hair out of his face. He didn't say anything, knowing it wouldn't make any difference.

Monica leaned back against the door, smiling and biting her plum-colored lips. Then she pushed herself forward, stalking toward him like a cat, but he was no mouse.

She couldn't even manage to spike his heart rate, and he sighed wearily.

Slumping back in the chair, he said, "You got an hour. At least try to impress me."

Monica snapped her fingers and suddenly a table appeared before him, knives and nasty, curving hooks and all manner of sharp, pointy things on its surface. He yawned, making his throat ache even more.

The witch made a little tsking sound and flicked her fingers at him. The vessels in his eyes ruptured, blood pouring down his cheeks, blinding him. 

He laughed. "Cute. Next."

Her little parlor tricks couldn't break the calm numbing his senses. Galloway had barely even touched him and already he felt more in control. Just the promise that she was waiting for him—that she knew he was coming—made him feel invincible.

The blood stopped, she snapped her fingers and he could see again. She stalked closer and he realized her face was more interesting than pretty. Her mouth was a little too wide and her nose was a little too long. Her features were just exaggerated in a way that made people look at her.

She batted her eyelashes and he realized that she had eyes that were two different colors, one brown, one electric blue.

Sirius blinked hard several times, clearing the blood from his eyes, and watched as she hovered her hand over the knives on the table.

"So," Sirius started, "you have some sort of issue with Galloway?"

Her dichromate eyes flicked up to his. "You could say that."

"Do you mind if I ask what you think you'll accomplish here?"

Monica picked up a knife with a serrated edge and walked around the table. He  looked up at her, not blinking as she traced the edge of the knife around his mouth.

"I don't expect to get much. But I do like the idea of her knowing I carved your heart out." The knife slid down the side of his throat to his collar. "That's what the little slut did to my brother."

"Don't," Sirius growled, "call her that."

Anger fizzed through him at the slur.

"What would you prefer?" Monica asked, using the knife to cut his shirt in half.

Sirius sighed. He needed to just cut his losses and stock up on clothes.

She nudged the cloth away, running a cold hand down his now-bare chest. "If you don't like slut," she tapped the knife against her lips, "maybe... trollop? Whore? Harlot?"

"No one says harlot anymore," he said, trying to control his temper. He wouldn't give her a reaction.

"I like whore," Monica said with a smile, digging the tip of the knife into the skin just under his collarbone. "That's what she is, well, was."

He flinched when she corrected herself, earning a laugh. She was carving a steady circle around his heart, the knife scraping over his ribs. "Oh, I know, sweetie. It hurts, doesn't it? That's okay. You can scream if you want. Your whore was more than happy to let me know how my brother died screaming."

"Sounds like your brother was a little bitch then," he said, voice steady. Blood was pouring down his stomach.

Monica backhanded him and he burst out laughing. It hurt. Of course it hurt. But she was so... typical, and he had a pain tolerance the size of the Empire State Building.

The witch grabbed his face, digging her sharp nails into his skin. Then she smiled, the expression nasty.

"You had to have some idea, right? I mean, I don't know too terribly much about Soul Collectors—no one does—but I do know they aren't really supposed to be banging the help."

He gazed up at her, eyes heavy-lidded and dangerous. "Stop."

She was not a subject he would allow this whore to broach. 

"It's funny, really," Monica said, working the blade into the muscle between his second and third rib before starting to saw at the bone. "You know, Hunters always say witches are whores. That we sell ourselves for our power."

It nearly struck him as funny that she'd just echoed his thoughts. 

"They aren't wrong," he managed to say. 

"Mm, I suppose not for the majority," she admitted. "But some of us are just born this way."

Sirius grimaced when she made it through the first rib, unable to stop the small grunt that escaped him. She shoved the knife in, then walked back to the table. He could feel his heart slide against the side of the blade with every contraction. 

"You see," she said, picking up a small bone saw, "we might sell a bit of our souls for our power, but Hunters, oh," she let out a small laugh, "oh they sell every last bit of themselves a little at a time. And then they act like fucking saints."

His lip curled back, fangs lengthening.

"They're worse than us!" Monica exclaimed, yanking the knife out. "They're fucking psychopaths with mommy or daddy issues. I mean, at least we're honest about what we are. Which was it for her? Mommy or daddy?"

Sirius looked away. A memory flickered in the back of his head: the devotion and absolute adoration in her voice when she'd spoken of her father.

"I'm gonna guess daddy issues. I mean, I guess whoring around could come with the territory of either, but daddy issues seems more likely," Monica said.  

He hissed when she shoved the saw into his chest, working through another rib. Blood worked its way up his throat, and he spit in her face. She jerked backwards, wiping the blood away, the blackened saw dangling in her other hand.

"You wanna know how she got close enough to my brother?" she asked, leaning down.

He lunged forward, nearly nose to nose. "Stop. Talking. About. Her."

"Admittedly, Frank shouldn't have been so stupid." Monica shook her head, then she sank onto his lap making him turn his head to the side. Speaking into his ear now, she whispered, "She got him to take her back home."

"Stop."

"She told some pretty lies." Monica tapped a finger to her lips. "I almost wonder if they're the same lies she told you?"

His breath was faster, his chest seizing a little as he sucked blood into his punctured lung. 

"She acted lonely, and sad, and like she needed you to kiss all her cuts and scrapes. Maybe she told you the sob story about how demons killed her family."

"They did," he snarled, "kill her family."

"And then after that.." Monica giggled. "Well, apparently she is very flexible. And, well... how should I put this delicately?"

Sirius lunged against his bindings, snapping his teeth at her throat, but she skittered away, her laugh echoing around him.

"I don't care how she killed your fucking brother. I just wish she'd had the time to get around to you." He yanked against the bindings, the silver shearing into his skin, cutting it away and letting his hands slide.

Monica bared her teeth in a pained snarl which slipped away, her eyes widening as he jerked at his bindings once more, screaming as he took skin and flesh clean off the backs of his hands, exposing bone and tendon. 

Sirius stumbled to his feet, throwing the chair into the wall with so much force it shattered against the metal. Monica darted to the door, but he was too fast, tackling her to the ground. 

"I told you," he snapped, a clawed, bloody hand going around her throat, "to stop talking."

Monica started to mutter in Latin, and he shuddered as the magic pulsed against his skin. His other hand came up, clamping down over her mouth and stifling her magic, shoving it back down her throat.

"You know," he whispered, "it's almost funny, that you'd think I'd care. You're brother wasn't smart enough to see she was a Hunter, she used her many talents to cut his heart out, and all these years later, you still haven't been able to do anything more than nearly carve her—"

He cut himself off suddenly—he didn't know what he had been to her. Boyfriend. Lover. Everything sounded so... weak. 

The fear in Monica's eyes was delicious, making him smile. He picked her up by her throat, that smile growing. "Now. Tell me what on earth should we do with you."

"Please," she gasped, her hands clutching at his wrist, slipping over his bloodied, skinned hand. "Please don't."

"What would you have done if she was here?" he whispered. "Would you have made her watch? Or would you have skipped me and gone straight to her?"

Monica just shook her head. His arm was starting to shake and he slowly lowered her to where her toes scraped against the floor. "Would you have cut her heart out?"

She couldn't manage even to shake her head in denial this time. 

Kill her, the darkness whispered. Use her to get the blade, and then kill her. 

"No!" Monica gasped. "No, please. I... I-I'll get the blade for you. P-please. You don't have to kill me."

It didn't really surprise him that she could hear the darkness.

His breath rasped in his throat, rage and madness playing at the edges of his mind. "No," he agreed. "No, I don't have to kill you."

She sighed in relief.

He smiled, knowing how angelic it would look. How kind. He'd always been good at that. Being pretty had its advantages. She even almost smiled back at him.

"But it occurs to me that nearly a year ago, you used me to try and kill her. A hex bag, tucked away in the pocket of my jacket. It smelled like poison. It smelled like you."

Monica's skin turned the color of milk, and he slammed her back to the floor, using his body weight to pin her.

He reached up, fingers tracing over a dainty little blade near the edge of the table. When he pulled it down, a little sobbing gasp escaped her.

"I want you to scream," he said. "I want you to scream for Valentia, and tell her to bring the demon blade."

She shook her head, and he carved a line down the side of her face.

He could hear the scream before it hit her vocal cords. The rush of air toward her windpipe, before it hit her larynx. 

They both jumped when the door burst open, heads whipping over to find an imposing figure in the doorway. Caleb stood there, the muzzle of the gun he held wavering between Sirius and Monica.

Funny, he hadn't heard them busting into Valentia's.

"Have you lost your goddamn mind?" he hissed. "Get off her."

"She's a witch. One who tried to kill Galloway," Sirius snarled. "You sure you want to let her go? She kills people. That's sort of against your rules, right?"

"Get. Off. Of. Her," Caleb said slowly. "Now, Sirius."

He turned his head, snarling, then he was holding his ears as an explosive bang shattered his hearing. Blood misted up the side of his face from the blow back. Slowly, he looked down to find Monica laying still beneath him, a neat, dark hole in the center of her forehead.

His finger trembled as he got to his feet and he whirled on Caleb, who held up a knife, his expression stone-cold. The handle was made of what appeared to be human bone, the blade covered in Enochian glyphs.

"Told you I'd get you a demon blade, didn't I?" Sirius said, yanking his ruined shirt off. 

"What were you doing to her?" Caleb asked.

"Killing her," Sirius snarled. "I would have preferred to do it slow, but hey, the bitch is dead. Who cares how it happened."

"Why would you—"

"She tried to kill Galloway once." He shrugged. "She said a few things that pissed me off."

"We don't do things like that, Sirius," Caleb said, eyes burning with fury. "We don't torture people."

"She wasn't a human," he said with a smug smile. "She was a witch. A witch who killed people."

Caleb opened, then closed his mouth. The demon blade was slowly lowered, and Sirius watched as the Hunter visibly battled with himself.

Using the shredded shirt to wipe away the blood down his torso, he said, "Took you long enough to get here."

"Wouldn't have been a problem if you weren't so phenomenally stupid," Rick's voice snarled its way through the door, quickly followed by the Hunter himself. He stopped dead at the sight of Sirius. "Dude, what the fuck? Do you just like people poking holes in you?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. Rick took off his coat and threw it at him, making Caleb frown. He shrugged. "What? Do you want to ride around with his half-naked ass?"

Caleb sighed wearily. Then he turned on his heel, brushing past Rick to go back into the main room.

Rick moved closer to Sirius, sharp eyes taking in the de-gloved backs of his hands and the exposed, severed ribs on the left side of his chest. "What happened to you, man?"

He nudged Monica's body with his foot. "Galloway tore out her brother's heart. She wanted to return the favor."

Rick whistled low. Then he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a flask. He took a drink, then handed it to Sirius, who did the same.

After he handed it back, Rick brushed at his own nose. "You got a little... what is that? Coke?"

Sirius was surprised it hadn't been hidden by the blood. He rubbed at the side of his nose, his fingers coming away sparkling faintly with blue powder. "Mostly."

"Did Caleb see?" he asked, voice low. "'Cause if he did you've got a lecture of epic proportion coming your way."

"Just as long as it comes on the way to Wyoming," Sirius said, moving to step around him.

Rick grabbed his arm. "Why don't we get you cleaned up a little, huh?"

That nearly made him smile. Maybe Galloway was right. Maybe he did like Rick a little.

Ignoring the sting it sent through his hand, he clapped Rick on the shoulder. "It'll keep. I just want to go get her."

His rage had dissipated and the idea of fulfilling his promise sent a wash of strange calm through him. He frowned, thinking there was something weird about his good mood, even if he had just seen Galloway.

The Hunter sighed deeply, muttering under his breath, but Sirius didn't care to listen. He put the borrowed coat on and walked out into the main room of Valentia's place.

Caleb and Alex looked over, Alex lifting a hand to her mouth, horrified by the state he was in.

"I'm fine," he growled, heading to the door. "Let's go. Hell-gate in Wyoming. Galloway's waiting."

"No," Caleb said. "We need to talk about what happened today."

Sirius clenched his fists, making blood patter to the ground. They didn't have time for this. She'd told him to hurry. 

"What's there to talk about, Caleb? Hm?" Sirius tilited his head. "That I ditched out on you? That I came to Valentia and got high as fuck, and she tied me to a chair before siccing her witch on me? You've got a demon blade in your hands, right now, because of me. Yeah I was gonna kill the bitch in there. I was gonna tear her heart out. So the fuck what?"

The Hunters stood silently, watching him. Even after the moment of camaraderie with Rick, he could sense the way they were huddling up, presenting a united front.

You're scaring them, Galloway whispered, and he laughed.

"He's still high," Rick muttered. "Let me deal with him."

Sirius bit down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything unfortunate. He wasn't high. He felt fine.

Caleb stepped forward, but Alex grabbed his hand. "He knows what he's doing, Caleb."

"Yeah, I know." The words were scathing, and Rick's mouth thinned into a tight line. Then Caleb shook his head. "Yeah, fine, whatever. If we're going to Wyoming I need to call Logan."

He stalked past Rick, then Sirius before turning on his heel. Sirius turned and raised an eyebrow, watching the Hunter.

Caleb punched him, splitting his lip, but all Sirius did was grin. Tonight had pushed him too close to the edge. He simply didn't care about the pain anymore.

He simply didn't care.

"That was for these," Caleb said, shaking back the sleeve of his coat to show Sirius the black band of magic. All the gold had been burned away, and there was something deep in Caleb's eyes. Something like fear.

"What—" Sirius started, but Caleb was already thumping his way down the stairs.

He turned to Rick, raising an eyebrow, not bothering to wipe away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"You knew," Alex said, voice thick. "You knew about the magic. You knew it would kill him if you left." Her voice had risen in pitch and she moved across the room until she was standing right in front of him. 

Rick tensed, but Sirius didn't move. Not even when her palm collided with his cheek.

Tears shining in her eyes, she kept screaming at him. "He woke up, screaming in agony, those bands bright red! He couldn't even speak." She slapped him again.

"All we could do was carry him to the truck. We dropped him twice because he kept thrashing, that's how bad he was hurting. How badly you hurt him!" She raised her hand a third time, but Rick caught her wrist.

"Say something," she screamed. "Say something, you son of a bitch."

Sirius stood frozen, even as Rick looped an arm around his sister's waist and hauled her from the room.

"Enough. Enough!" he roared, slamming the door behind her after he pushed her from the room. Through it, he yelled, "Go check on, Caleb. I got Fido."

Alex swore at him, filthy as a sailor, and Sirius' mouth twitched. 

In that moment, he knew Rick was right. He was high as a damn kite.

Couldn't feel a thing.

And it was wonderful.