"Which childhood? The one that never ends? O you,
still a child, and slow to grow.
Still talking to God and thinking the snow
falling is the sound of God listening."
—Li-Young Lee
. . .
[September 27th (03:28 AM)]
It was just a feeling he had, a little tickle in the back of his mind... but Alastor suddenly found himself waking up with a tingling, vague feeling of something that has gone horribly wrong as he quietly slipped out of bed, feeling for his mate's presence.
To his relief, Winters seems to be still in the dining area, right where he had last seen her only hours ago. And William...
Strange.
The kid doesn't seem to be around.
In fact, judging by the faint scent, he doesn't seem to have returned to the hotel since yesterday morning. Did William go off to another mission?
Alastor frowns at the thought.
Why does it always feel like he's the only one who actually goes to sleep like a normal human being when he wasn't even one in the first place?
I swear, those two...
Blindly groping around for his cell phone on the nightstand, right where Alastor was so sure he had left it—spoiler alert, no: it's actually under his pillow—the little search took him an embarrassingly good five minutes before he found it.
Alastor squints in irritation at the sudden assault on his eyes as he tries to check on the time, ignoring the sudden brightness.
With a tired groan, Alastor stretched his arms up a bit as he lets out a quiet yawn. Hm, since Winters is already up... and no doubt, hadn't bothered to go to sleep (or even eat) it might be nice to make a very early breakfast for her.
Oh, maybe they can cook together!
He perks up at the idea.
Should he make pancakes or waffles? Ah, it's such a shame that they've already ran out of chocolate syrup... but as far as he knows, they still have some of the maple syrup left—
Wait.
What the fuck.
Alastor gawks, not believing his eyes for a second as he stands frozen by the doorway, taking in the sight of the room. It looked like a storm had gone and wrecked through the place while he was fast asleep. How the hell did he even slept through this? Could this be why he even woke up in the first place?
But...
Alastor swallows nervously as he sees the ruined dining table practically shoved to the farthest side of the room. It was practically cleaved in half... and as he looks around, he could have sworn he sees some the chairs looking like it has been thrown in random directions, some of them with their legs torn off, he even nearly stepped on a shattered piece of woodand glass that he was very faintly sure was the remains of a coffee mug.
Then, he noticed something that makes his heart practically drop out of his chest. Because even with the lights turned off, leaving just the distant city lights creeping past the curtains, it was enough to help him see his mate's silhouette huddled next to the window.
"Winters?" Alastor called as he tries to inch closer.
His eyes were instantly drawn to the skin on her forearms; it had been scratched raw, still bleeding right where they lay on her lap almost listlessly, marked with the distinct shape of crescent moons... blunt human fingernails (Alastor was quite dead certain those wounds had been self-inflicted), her head bowed down with her hair veiling most of her face.
And even from here, he can see the dried tear tracks falling and glistening upon her pallid complexion, her ragged breathing loud enough to make his own heart twist and hurt.
The sound reminiscent of someone drowning.
Alastor slowly kneels down next to her, careful not to set her off or something. "What happened...?' he had kept his voice calm, but his mind was frantically racing in panic as he looked at her. What did she just do? What should he do?
What can he even do?
Winters had been perfectly fine last night–
"Will's gone," she suddenly said, slowly raising her head to meet his eyes. That warped smile on her lips instantly frightening him, "He's gone..."
What?
"I don't... I don't understand... what happened?"
Winters suddenly threw her head back and roared in laughter then, the sound loud, high, and hysterical enough to raise Alastor's hackles.
"You know," she says, still wearing that crooked little smile, "I wasn't planning on telling you... or anyone to be fair but... but William's not even my little brother. He's my cousin! My mother and his were sisters apparently, from what I just found out. So, Hades abandoned me, and my birth mother died after giving birth to me, as far as I know and since my... aunt and uncle didn't want to surrender me to my grandfather for some reason, they decided to keep me with them."
Another wet, sounding laugh.
"It seems that I was lucky enough that some people thought it was still fine to have me around right after I ended up killing my mother, or who knows what would have happened!"
"Winters—"
Alastor can only stare, unsure and worried as Winters turns to look at him with red-rimmed eyes, her voice cracking with grief, "Who would have thought that my life was an even bigger mess, and I didn't even know that MOST OF IT WAS A FUCKING LIE!"
"Winters, stop that," he scolded her, gently reaching out to get a hold her wrists, mindful not to touch the still open-wounds on her skin when she suddenly raised one of her hands as if to roughly wipe at her face, "You'll hurt yourself..."
"I already did."
He froze, eyes wide as he stares at her, completely at a loss. What was he even supposed to say to that? What could he even say?
"...but he's hurting him, he's going to hurt him and I'm here. I'm still right here. I can't do anything. I can't—" Winters was saying, half-sobbing and laughing at this point as she looks at him, her gaze past him, as if looking and seeing something else.
"Winters, please snap out of it. What–?"
She suddenly leaned close to him, close enough that the scent of blood and tears made his head spin, his chest aching, the tears on her cheeks he can almost taste, as he watches her mouth moving to whisper the truth on his ear... and Alastor can only feel his face being drained of color.
Roman.
"You must have known," she murmurs against the side of his face and Alastor dreads to see the look on her face, "Or at least suspected... after all, you nearly did the same thing when we first met, remember?"
He swallows, feeling his throat go dry.
Shame and guilt at the memory her words had invoked, making him screw his eyes shut as he tries to will it away, tries to calm down, to not think of the terror and panic in her eyes on that day. That was... he wasn't... he didn't mean to... but that vampire, so he really did–?
No.
Alastor didn't even want to finish that thought.
Because this was so, so much worse than he could've possibly imagined. Even if Winters was still close enough that he could practically pull her in to embrace her, to attempt to comfort or calm her down... but now he was afraid to even move, to touch her more than he already have, that a sudden action might really set her off. She looks so vulnerable, so torn up and close to breaking apart.
"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter now..." Winters finally says, tired and bitter, leaning away from him at his silence, "He won. He always won, like he says he always will–"
"WINTERS!" he snapped, squeezing her wrist.
She stiffened, as if remembering herself, and he wasn't sure he had ever seen her so impossibly hurt and sad as some sort of clarity returned to her eyes.
"...Sorry," she muttered, looking away.
Alastor took a deep, calming breath in through his nose, before trying to meet her gaze. "Winters. Listen to me. Whatever the flying fuck he told you, don't believe it. In fact, don't even think about it. He's just messing with you."
Her lips trembled.
When she didn't even look at him, Alastor released her wrists and gently cupped her face, to drive his point in her thick skull, "What the vampire did to you was wrong, okay? I was wrong. No one should have ever gone through what you or William did. The kid's missing? Then, we'll find him, okay? Together. I'm not going anywhere. I'll help you..."
"Don't," her face twisted, as if hurt, and he ached in sympathy at the desperation clear in her eyes, "Don't do that. Please... don't say things you don't mean."
"I won't," he promised, catching, and wiping some of her tears on his thumb. "I mean it. I won't leave you. I won't ever leave you. So please... just let me help, Winters. Trust me."
"I would have been just fine... knowing that William's okay," Winters sniffled, her trembling hands curling into fists at his shirt, "But this... if something bad ever happens to that boy, Alastor, I can't... I can't... why? Why does he keep hurting me?! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO HIM?!"
Alastor moves then to pull her in for a hug, but Winters suddenly curled forward in retreat to herself as she began to cry. As if she couldn't stand to take even that small comfort. Or didn't think she deserved it.
"It's fine–"
"Nothing's fine!" she snapped.
Alastor blinked back tears at the intensity in her voice while Winters looked startled, then ashamed for taking her anger out on him, the regret in her eyes so vivid that Alastor can almost feel it himself.
"You're right," he sighs, "It's not. But that doesn't mean we'll give up looking before we even get to start. We'll figure something out, Winters... we have to... for William. Because if it's really that leech, we have to do something."
"...It hurts, Alastor," Winters whimpered, her voice sounding so small, "It hurts so much. But why? Why does it still hurt? Pain or the idea of dying is nothing new for either of us. We both know that it will happen to us someday soon, with the life we've led—and knowing that monster, I should already be expecting the worst. I just... I feel so fucking stupid that I haven't seen it coming, that I put my guard down. But I can't... I CAN'T–!"
Her words were drowned out with a sob.
Alastor all but hauled her when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to drag her to his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin as he held her close to himself, muffling her screams against him.
Her pain was so vivid, a heartbreaking thing to watch, that Alastor couldn't even see the usually stoic goddess she usually presented herself as, nor the indifferent mask she often wore to hide the more tender parts of herself.
He almost didn't recognize her in her grief.
But those demeanors were a shield, he had come to realize, finally understood, cold armors meant to protect herself from everything and everyone to keep anyone from hurting her ever again.
Blinking back tears, Alastor held her closer to him as an anguished wail and another was ripped from her throat, the sound raw, so human... something that came from somewhere deep within her heart as fresh tears poured from her eyes.
"It's all my fault," she cried.
He rested his chin on the crown of her head, gripping her firmly, "No. That's not true. Don't blame yourself... but it's alright to cry, to be sad, Winters. Anyone would feel so hurt and angry after everything you've been through. You have a right to feel what you do. You shouldn't have to bottle it all up for someone else's sake. It's not your fault, you can't tell me otherwise."
Save for a few hiccupping sobs, Winters was quiet for a few moments after that, leaning against him and hanging on to him like he was some sort of a lifeline.
Finally, she whispered against his collarbone, her voice sounding a bit hoarse and still rattled, "You really should have just found someone else... is there even a point in trying to stay with something like me? I don't want you to wake up one day and realize that I'm not worth it–"
"Enough of that," he shushed.
Because after everything he had gone through, Alastor, at the very least, understood on a personal level why the act of staying mattered. And he is planning to stay, going to stay... but only if she will have him.
"But I–"
He ran a hand through her long hair, "No. Shut up. I've been listening to you talk and it's my turn now. Winters, the problem with you is that you have always been too hard on yourself. And it stings that you don't even realize it yourself, but you are worth it. You will always be worth it."
Winters sniffled as she pulls back but stayed within his arms, one of her fists rubbing at her eyes. "How is it that when I'm this close to breaking apart, you still manage to keep me together? It's kind of scary..."
Feigning a pout, Alastor whines:
"What, now I'm scary?"
A weak chuckle slipped past her lips, her eyes still looking a bit sad, "You seemed to always know what to say is all."
Alastor couldn't quite stop himself from laughing at that as he cuddled her to himself, rubbing his cheek against her's, "Hell, no. Half the time I actually feel like one step from falling off of a cliff. Jokes on you, though. I'm into that shit."
She gave him a small, watery smile.
Sighing, Alastor's voice become serious again. "But for real, Winters. William missing is not your fault. You're not responsible for things out of your control. If there's anyone to blame, it's that fucking psycho. The best we can do for now is hunt him down. Fortunately, that's something we're both good at."
"So, we find Roman, we find...?"
"Sounds like a plan, yeah?"
Winters lets out a slow, shallow exhale against him, "...I don't think I will ever understand why you still put up with me after all this time."
"I already told you, didn't I? You're worth it."