Residue

by MrTicklepaws

Desdemona Kakalose. Worth and Conrad and a nice little picnic in the woods...or something like that. Oh, and body snatching by a creepy supernatural critter.

The apocalypse wasn't all bad, really. No more taxes. Fuck showing up for work. Do what you want, when you want, how you want. The best part, as far as Worth was concerned, was that a man could relieve himself damn near wherever and whenever the call of nature sounded.

But the number of shitty things brought about by the complete collapse of man's dominion was rising higher every day. Chief among those, Worth was discovering, as he wrote his name in the yellowing snow, was winter. The cold was always a pain in the ass, sure. But back when you still had people everywhere, you also had power, and insulated buildings, the city littered with foggy window fronts and steamy manhole covers. Bundle up, deal with the cold while moving to your new location, then bunker down with a hot mug of something till you thawed out.

With the collapse came the overwhelming shock of a world without power. Sure, generators existed, and you could steal gasoline or kerosene from some areas, but as the days turned to weeks to months, supplies had dried up. That meant you only used generators when you absofuckin'lutely had to, and those times were few and far between. So people who had fled to safer places found themselves needing to shed clothes during the summer, and then when the days became shorter, scrounge to try and find as much cover as possible. Rugs, blankets, animal skins if you could get them, were all precious resources to keep valuable extremities from freezing off. Body heat was good, too, leading more and more frequently to the group huddled together trying to share what little comfort the heat of two living and two undead men could provide.

The days were long and cold, but the nights were even worse. Fire was a necessity on many levels, but also a source of potential danger. In fact, many things they'd never worried about before they were finding to be more and more problematic. Conrad, for example, was having trouble keeping his muscles from seizing up and quite literally freezing in the cold. Heated blood in combination with warm blankets was the best defense against it, but that only got him so far. The zombie was something of a walking piece of green jerky, but he was having some difficulties moving around, too. Hanna had joked about him freezing to the ground if he wasn't careful, but there had been a brief look shared between the doctor and the man with marmalade orbs drifting in sunken sockets that acknowledged the very real possibility of joke becoming reality.

Life in a camper was, well, better than what a lot of sorry slobs were dealing with, but still had downsides. You couldn't very well start up a fire or leave the vehicle running to keep pumping heat through the space, precious gasoline resources and worry of carbon monoxide poisoning and all. Hanna did what he could with runes, but more often than not, he spent most if not all of his energies helping those outside the foursome. Finding blood stained sleeves and handkerchiefs around the red headed menace was becoming so common place that Worth just gave a glare and Hanna didn't bother replying with anything more than a sheepish smile and a promise to get more rest.

And because resources were so scarce, when it came to areas where a safe zone had yet to spring up, where society was still barely more than fractions of survivors strung out far and wide, terrified and relieved all at once to discover they weren't the only humans still out there, Hanna frequently offered them a ride to a burgeoning city zone. The desperate nature of a season full of ice, white, and nothing but roots to eat if you were lucky almost always drove them to agree, despite their ride clearly involving a vampire and a zombie, neither of which tended to rank highly on a mortal's idea of excellent and innocuous companionship.

They had just made a delivery of three people, a woman and her two young daughters. Plague resistance seemed to run within certain family genes, so they frequently found relatives holed up together rather than friends and loved ones. Worth zipped up and headed into a large house, idly wondering how that would play out in the future, such a small pool of survivors, and so many of them already sharing a genetic heritage. Well, at least there were the smokers like himself, though fuck that fatherhood business. Maybe there ought to be more sperm banks, though, just leave some parcels out for the lucky women of the world to be able to say they had a little bit of Worth with them forever.

"What the hell are you going on about?"

Worth cocked a lean hip against a grandfather clock and grinned at Conrad who was seated in on an old couch with the zombie. Down the hall and in a room deeper in the house he could hear the chatter of Hanna, introducing the small family to one of the higher ups in the town. "Yannow. Like a pressy. They get an hour or so with me an' memories that last a lifetime." He waved a hand in the air. "An' a kid. They're pro'lly inta that, too."

"I fail to see how memories of the sort brought about by," pale lips drew themselves down into a grimace, "that with you would resemble a "pressy" as you put it. More like an eternal nightmare. The diseases alone I can't even imagine."

"Aww, clean bill o'health." He patted his crotch, enjoying the extra level of nausea that wafted across Conrad's face. "'Course, if ya don't believe me, ya kin play nurse an' gimme a check. Be buildin' a valuable skill, ain't many medical professionals 'round these days."

When he wanted to, Conrad could really move. Worth found the tattered collar of his sweater twisting within Conrad's fist just as he finished his last sentence, the pull on his clothing strong enough to yank him forward, hunching his body. He was fairly certain it had popped his back.

"I will not be playing nurse for you. Ever. Do you understand? Are these words simple enough for your hole riddled brain to process?" His eyes were narrow slits of red rage.

The grin just spread wider. "Aww, it's okay, Connie. I get it. Think of it like my civic duty."

"What the fuck are you going on about now? Did you just have an aneuryism?"

"Naw, yer jus' upset, don't wanna share me with all th' other girls. But, sweetheart, I still haven't given ya my class ring. We ain't steady till I do that."

A moment later Worth's jaw was aching, his vision clouding and Conrad had stormed off somewhere. He rubbed the side of his face and sat unceremoniously on the dirty carpet, tongue feeling inside of his mouth. There was some blood and a tooth felt looser than normal.

"Why do you antagonize him so? It always ends the same way." The zombie was watching him, having never left his quiet perch on the couch.

The blonde didn't need to give the question any thought. The answer was obvious. "'Cause it always ends th' same way, frien'."

"Mmm…your self-preservation instincts are nearly as acute as Hanna's."

He snickered and leaned back on his elbows, legs branching out, nearly reaching the couch. He felt more relaxed than he had in some time. Conrad definitely had popped his back.

For a man who had never concerned himself with food in the past, Worth now found it to be a much higher priority. It was likely somehow linked to the whole wanting what you can't have thing, though he'd never really given much thought to that being part of his psyche in the past; he tended to just take and do what he wanted. Food had never even tasted particularly appealing to him, unless it was some good quality bourbon, and even then it was more to have a different taste in his mouth after waking up. Nothing steadied the hands like a shot of southern comfort. He should mention that to Conrad the next time someone needed patching up.

Speaking of the fairy fart, he was sitting beside Worth at the moment, hovering ever closer on the bench they shared in a crowded room. It was meal time, and it was the one area in town that was guaranteed to be warm, fires burning to cook food, and bodies squirming and wriggling past one another to find places to sit. It was a stew of some sort, and bread, dense and gritty. They had likely milled it down the old fashioned way, and Worth could feel it already grinding away at his teeth.

With a sigh, Hanna sat down across from the doctor. "We have a big problem."

"Yer tellin' me," Worth replied, pushing a questionable chunk in his stew with a bent spoon, "this ain't seasoned fer shit. Needs a woman's touch. Connie, mebbe ya kin' make yerself useful an'-"

Cutting Worth off and preventing Conrad's immediate and violent reply, Hanna spoke, "Yeah, no, actually, that's kind of the problem, or part of it."

The blonde blinked, staring dully at the red head. "Well I dunno if food reviews are what we're hurtin' fer these days, but I guess we kin give this place two outta five." He gestured to the grungy walls, illuminated and stained by the light of candles. "Good ambiance."

Hanna opened his mouth to reply, but shut it with a strained smile as his unblinking best friend forever joined them in a smooth motion, setting a bowl down before the rune user. "Thanks, Gilbert."

"You are welcome. The greatest thanks you can provide is eating the meal."

"Heh…Yeah, okay, anything for you, buddy." He spooned a mouthful, swallowing with another smile, this one somewhat more genuine. "Nothing like heat in your belly, er, of the food kind, not of the actual burning embers kind 'cause, whoa that gives you indigestion like crazy. Anyway! So, salt. It's winter, guys."

"Is it really?" Conrad's lips pursed, his body returning to the slow lean towards Worth's consistently radiating body heat. "I hadn't noticed, what with nearly freezing parts of my body off for the past weeks. So good of you to inform us."

At the push of the bowl from the zombie, Hanna took another bite before speaking. "Okay, you probably don't remember 'cause you slept through most of it, but I know Worth'll remember all those mass graves we had to dig during the summer."

Christ, yeah, he remembered. He remembered limbs like jelly, back and neck feeling like he'd been hit with a sledge hammer. He could still feel the cling of clothing, saturated with sweat, the feel of it hanging off the tip of his nose, the small dark spots it left in the dry ground he moved to make room for bodies. He remembered the smell, bacteria at work on the skin of the laborers and within the guts of the bloated, discolored dead. He wasn't so sure he wanted to finish eating at that point, but pushed forward out of necessity. You never knew when your next meal was coming these days. "Yeah," he replied, "I remember diggin' holes. What's that got ta do with stew?"

"Salt. See, every culture deals with the dead in some way. You have to sanctify the body somehow. You can burn it, or you can use earth or salt. That's why a burial at sea is good, but not so much in the middle of a freshwater lake. When you don't do that, baaaaad shit will happ-oh! There are some potatoes in here!" With a fresh vigor, Hanna quickly worked on the chunks of potato hidden within his bowl. "Mmm. Man I miss potatoes. Ah, cheese fries were so good. Especially with bacon and sour cream and chives oh man, I hope I can have that again some day. Weird the stuff you miss."

"Alright," Conrad tilted his head, single fang poking out over his lower lip, "if it has to be burned or buried or whatever, then why do you have the mummified monks? Egyptians used salt, but not the monks. They just stuck bodies in niches in the walls of their churches, in catacombs. I don't remember "bad shit" happening there. Hell, Victorians and Roman prostitutes fucked in cemeteries."

Worth stared at Conrad, not quite sure how to reply to the odd knowledge of dead bodies and Roman prostitution practices. Conrad stared back with an ever deepening scowl.

"What?"

The quiet stare continued, Worth not breaking the gaze even as he wiped his bread along the inside of his bowl and brought its gravy covered body up to his mouth. He took a bite, chewing slowly.

"What?"

Eyebrows raised along with shoulders as Worth shrugged and turned back to Hanna.

"He uh, actually has a good point! Which is what I am totally getting to!" With a mildly sheepish smile, Hanna held up a finger, then coughed into his elbow. "Uh, okay, so! See, a cemetery is holy ground. Even if you're talking about a building with the dead inside, that extends to the holy ground, 'cause you have all the blessings and symbols, mostly sun signs, stars, crosses, that stuff. Keeps out the nasties 'cause they don't dig sunlight. In fact, that's part of why Halloween is such a big deal, the nights are getting longer, and the sun is losing a lot of its power, so it's party time for most of the dark creatures, you know?"

"Spit it out, Hanna." The doctor had a feeling he knew where this was going. The ground was too hard to dig in, and he didn't remember any holy buildings littering the streets of suburbia.

"So, uh, you can't dig a hole in frozen earth. And they're so low on salt here that they're conserving it as much as possible. No churches, and no one here really knows how to properly bless anything to get one started."

"What about fire?" Conrad asked, arm dangerously close to brushing against Worth's side. "Couldn't they burn the dead?"

"Nooooooot really. It's too cold and wet for something to burn without an accelerant, and you know how short the world is on that stuff these days. Plus, if something happened and the fire spread to the houses here? Everyone is dead without shelter in these temperatures."

"Right, so ya go bless somethin' up nice fer 'em an' they kin throw their bodies in there."

"Yeah, I mean, I totally have already, so they should be good from here on out till summer and then, ugh, it is going to reek around here once that happens, but it's as far out as we could make it so it'll have to do till then. But in the meantime, they uh," he coughed into his elbow again, wet and body wracking, "they have a skinwalker."

"Need more iron if ya kin get it."

"Huh? For the skinwalkers? I mean, yeah, it helps when they're out of a body, but-" Wordlessly, the zombie reached over, wiping a pale cherry smear from Hanna's chin with his olive thumb. "Uh…sorry, I'll make sure I get some extra sleep, promise. But, ugh, gotta fix this first 'cause it's kinda a big deal."

"Yeah? Sure. How's it gettin' fixed, then?"

"What the fuck is a skinwalker? Does anyone want to, oh, I don't know, explain this to me so I know what's going on?"

"Er, sorry, Conman. Skinwalkers uh…walk within the skin of another, basically. Sometimes they take animal bodies or forms, but they prefer human if they can get them. They can do way more damage that way, get into more places, you know?" He took a few more spoonfuls of stew, glancing around himself. "Anyway, the thing is, if they're able to get a fresh enough body, if no one knows that the person is dead, then they can really wreak havoc. As far as we know, this skinwalker hasn't been able to switch bodies yet, so it's pretty easy to spot, if not smell 'cause the body it took is a couple weeks gone. But if it manages a switch, ugh. Bad news bears, bro."

Tapered fingers tapped against the table top, Worth's brain doing a few quick calculations as he stared at his empty and cooling bowl. "Jus' need a dead body? Don't matter if somethin' else is occupyin' it?"

"Not if they're strong enough, no. The longer they're in a body, and the fresher the body, the stronger they get. It uh…helps if they feed, too. Well I mean, it doesn't help us or anything, it makes things extra shitty for us. But they can't like, take the body of a really living person, 'cause the spiritual ties are too strong to the corporal form."

"S'then how do ya get rid of 'em?"

"Um, well, you kinda, uh…kill it." Small hands waved defensively infront of an equally petite frame as Hanna spotted Worth's growing irritation. "No, really. It's mostly a reanimated corpse, okay? So you kill the body, or at least destroy it enough that it's no longer a good host form. Think of it kinda like a zombie, but a zombie with high thinking functions and er, sorry, Tiberius. They're gonna move really weird, though, if you find them and attack. You know the Exorcist? Yeah, it might creepy spider crawl up a tree or something. I have some stuff in the camper, though, so we can take it down."

"Uh huh," Worth had finished his calculations, fingers no longer tapping on the table. "Ya mean I'm gonna kill it."

"Huh? Nooooo we. Group effort. Teamwork. There is no I in team, but there is an I in meat pie, and team is like meat spelled a different way."

Worth slammed his hand on the table with a thud, rattling the silverware in the bowls and cutting off Hanna's rambling. Hanna's spoon sputtered out, clanking dully on the table top. "This thing's like a ghost. Ain't got a body. Moves around possessin' bodies. Now I know it's hard fer ya ta keep things I say in mind when ya go gallivantin' off on yer stupid ass adventures but-"

The vampire snorted. "Gallivanting?"

Unphased, Worth continued, "not th' time, Conrad, when ya go off don' stupid shit, so I'm gonna remind ya. No ghosts. No. Ghosts. That goes fer glowy-eyes, too. Seem ta remember him catchin' a case a th' possessed some time back. An' Connie," he now looked to the artist, "ya kin stay here an' do some redecoratin' or something. I'm sure yer jus' dyin' ta fung shui th' shit outta this place or beat th' rugs or somethin'."

"Oh, I'll gladly beat something," he seethed, nostrils flaring wide.

"Oh an' I'm sure yer gonna do jus' that, darlin'," the doctor continued, "but try an' get b'hind some closed doors first, yeah? There're kids around."

Conrad momentarily deflated as he quickly deduced the meaning behind Worth's words, only to instantly stiffen his back and clench his fists again.

"Pfff, you guys," Hanna was shaking his head, smiling like an old man who had long ago solved a puzzle and was enjoying watching the youngsters figure it out.

"Perhaps," the zombie intoned, low, rumbling voice easing the tension, "Worth is right. It does sound dangerous for you to be around something that might take hold of your body, and mine. However, I would ask that you take Conrad with you, Worth. Just as you have proven yourself to be an admirable opponent in combat, so has Conrad."

It was Worth's turn to snort. "Since when do damsels in distress count as admirable opponents?"

The red head retrieved a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. "I guess that could work, but like…I dunno, Conrad's kinda not exactly totally alive. He'll have to be really careful and not let the skinwalker get too close to him. If he can get a good shot from a decent distance, though, he should be okay."

"I'm better at distance shots. Mebbe I should jus' use him as bait. Put th' damsel shit ta good use." His last word came out more as an "oof" as Conrad slugged him in the side.

"Piss off. You think I want to help you? That I want to risk some…thing out there jumping into my body? You really are brain damaged."

"Kay," smoke twisted and billowed around Hanna's head as he stood and exhaled, "if you're sure you're going to do this together, we can get stuff from the camper. Worth, just keep the iron away from Conman, okay? He's young so it's not like insta-kill, but it'll really irritate him. Aches and blisters and stuff."

The other man, the vampire, and the zombie all stood as well, following Hanna out of the dining room, bracing themselves as they left the clinging heat of the house and exited to the chill of snapping winds. They walked quickly and carefully along the slick, powder covered cracked asphalt to the camper. Safely inside, Hanna lit a candle and made his way into the back, mumbling to himself and rummaging around in the collection of boxes and oddities littered across the floor, climbing towards the ceiling like the ruined city skyscapes smeared across the highways.

From those boxes Hanna produced a dagger, approximately seven inches from the butt to the tip of blade. Worth was clearly unimpressed. "I'm killin' this thing with a letter opener?"

"It doesn't look like much but that's just because it was uh…intended to be easily concealed-within-a-woman's-cleavage-don't-judge-me. I got it second hand, okay? It's called a stylet and it's iron. Way heavier than it looks." He handed the blade to Worth who flipped it around a few times.

"Second hand means at a fuckin' Renfaire, don't it?"

"Er…maybe? Look, it's still iron and it works," the red head sat down, working his cigarette down to the nub, "that's what's important."

"Uh huh." Titty dagger was shoved unceremoniously in one of the holsters on Worth's belt. "Think I'll take my chances with bullets."

"Oh no, bullets are like, way better! But, you know, if you get up close and personal, especially if the spirit leaves the body and goes after you in wisp mode, stabbity stabbity."

Conrad hovered by the door. "Can we just go and do this already? The night's already half over."

"Oh well, yannow, I hate ta keep her ladyship waitin'. Didn't realize ya were so keen on getting' me all alone out in th' dark, but, I'm real flattered."

"Hey, be careful, seriously serious, okay? They already lost some livestock, and it's just a matter of time before it decides people are the other white meat."

They found nothing that night. At dawn they returned to the camper and immediately collapsed in the dark of the back bedroom. Hanna and the zombie had chosen to stay in one of the houses, if his barely legible note was to be believed. Considering he was likely staying there and scribbling protective runes everywhere, wearing himself out even further rather than resting…yeah, he could believe it.

Worth jolted awake sometime that afternoon to screaming in the streets. His first instinct was to reach for his gun, which still safely rested on the floor beside the bed. Eyes gritty, he grumbled, using an elbow to push Conrad away from him. Sleep had come, but not before bundling in blankets and bodies pressing together. It had truly felt like sidling up to an ice truck until the vampire had thawed enough for them to both rest. Without any sound but the sliding of fabric, Conrad was relocated to the far side of the bed and Worth snatched his gun from the floor, breath coming out in visible misty puffs in the cold air of the camper.

Clicking off the safety, he exited the back area and headed to the front to peer out of the windows. It was a bright day, the sunlight bouncing off of the stacks of snow and ice. A group had formed around a woman, obviously the one screaming her bloody head off, and she was setting others into a panic. Worth didn't see any blood or other obvious signs of danger, but he also didn't see Hanna. With a grumble, he stepped out, nearly slipping on the ice that had formed on the steps of the camper, and headed over to the group, keeping his eyes open and roaming the area for signs of an ambush of some sort. Daytime wasn't any safer than night, really, you were just on the look for different sources of danger.

As he approached, he noted a few things. One, everyone was getting more and more riled up. That was to be expected, it was mob mentality. Humans were herd animals when you got down to it. Smart-ish ones, sure, with thumbs and hunting instincts, but still easily panicked when one member of the group flipped their shit. Two, the screaming woman was the one they'd picked up a few days before. Chardonnay? Lacey? Fuck, it'd help if he'd paid attention. All he could remember was it was a stripper sort of name and he'd spent a few moments trying to reminisce loudly, which had turned into him following Conrad up and down the stuffy vehicle asking him if he'd ever had a lapdance. (Surprisingly, sort of yes. He had been "accosted" as he put it, by the entertainment at a friend's stag party. Something about never looking at lollypops the same way again.) Ah well, he'd have to revisit and get more info on that one when he thought about it. As is, the worst part was that Worth was focusing on the third thing he had noticed, Hanna's words echoing in his head: the woman only had one daughter with her.

Calming someone down was usually easier when you knew their name, but at the time, shutting down the growing upset in the street was more important. "Oi!" He shouted, slipping on another patch of ice, nearly going down in the process and feeling something tug in a wholly unpleasant way in his groin. "Th'fuck's all this noise? What's goin' on out here uh," he scratched his chin, "Rainbow?"

Frantic eyes darted over to the doctor, then back away like a flock of startled birds. "She's gone! She's gone!"

"Right, alright, yer kiddo's not where ya thought she'd be. She's pro'lly jus' somewhere ya ain't expectin." Like a basement somewhere, his mind added.

"No! She's gone!" Carrying her wide eyed and crying two year old, she pushed he way through the throngs of people. "Amy? Amy! Where are you?"

Worth gave a quick look around, hearing other women beginning to call for their children as well, waves of bodies splitting off to head towards the ranch style home they were using for cooking and some combination of daycare and schooling. It was easy to tell the fathers from the childless men, those without genetic responsibilities were standing around awkwardly, feeling they needed to do something, but unsure of what it was they could actually do. If someone didn't step in, the unchecked testosterone of desperate men and hysteria of protective women would likely turn into torches and a raid on whomever was the strangest member of the surviving town. Humans banded together and got along in peace as long as they were unified against an outside foe. But when the foe could be within their own ranks, when they were all already strung out from the stress of survival, they would turn on their own in an instant.

Where the fuck was Hanna and why did this shit always happen when he went somewhere?

Someone needed to convince everyone to calm the fuck down, and, for fuck's sake, it was going to have to be Worth, wasn't it?

Ammo was hard to find, but relatively easy to smelt, so, fuck it. He raised his rifle straight up and fired once. The crack was startling, shaking the people out of their parental worries and snapping them into a more immediate self-preservation. "Good. Gotcher attention. Everyone shaddap an' calm th' fuck down." Point made, he lowered the rifle, but didn't holster it. Who knew how long it would be until "strangest member of the town" turned out to be the lanky bloke who just rolled out of a vampire's bed. "Ain't gonna do any good ta freak out. Now uh," he scratched his jaw, "Sprinkles, wassit? What ya need ta do now is take care a th' kid yer holdin' right now. Everyone with kids, jus' sit tight, keep an' eye on 'im. Kids wander off. Happens. They always show back up. If ya wanna help, we still got daylight. Form a search party. No splittin' up, big group a five ta seven. Look through houses an' check in often."

There. That sounded reasonable, right? Gave the restless boys something to do and confirmed to the women that they should just hang tight with their sprogs. He could see them thinking, nodding, a few of the teen to twenty somethings banding together, talking and pointing to places to look. He relaxed a fraction, gaze moving over to Bunny, who was vibrating, thin hands claws holding her toddler against her chest, looking around as if the townsfolk had suddenly abandoned her. He sighed. It looked like he'd still have to deal with her. Quickly walking over to her, he snapped his fingers and pointed, leading her away from the middle of the street.

The majority of people were living in the houses smack dab in the middle of their "town." It made sense, of course, everyone bands together for heat in the winter, and then they spread out to the other houses for extra breathing room during the summer. Sure it would lead to tensions, but it helped keep an eye on everyone, and, hey, it made Worth's job easier. Follow the trail of runes and head inside the most scribbled on building in sight. That would be the brick two story with a door so covered in gobbledygook that at first glance Worth thought it just had a strangely peeling paint job.

The temperature inside was nearly the same as outdoors, but at least there wasn't any wind. He stomped his way through the home, eventually finding Hanna curled up beneath a blanket next to the fireplace in the oversized family room. The zombie was there, gingerly putting a new log on the smoldering fire. Hanna was paler than normal and Worth didn't even need to ask, as the zombie informed him upon his approach that the idiot had passed out mid-rune work. Up all night, of course, not sleeping until long after the sun had risen.

"Right," he turned then to the woman, guiding her to sit on one of the couches in the communal sleeping area. "Yannow that kid's a magician an' all. He taught me a few things. G'on, put yer kiddo down, uh, Bubbles?"

There was confusion on her face before she set her toddler down and replied, "Candy."

"Right, Christ, I knew it was some kinna, eh, not important." He retrieved a handkerchief from one of the sacks on his holster and handed it over. "This'll help find yer kid. Gotta be inna calm place without many people fer it ta work. Ya gotta really focus on that symbol right there. Trace it with yer fingers 'n' think 'bout the girl. Might put ya inna trance, jus' relax an' let it. You'll see where she is in yer head."

She nodded, fingers eagerly tracing along the swirling lines drawn on the fabric, breathless whispers of her daughter's name slithering from chapped lips until her eyelids fluttered and she collapsed sideways on the couch.

"Worth," the zombie spoke as the toddler stood on wobbly legs to pat at her mother's face, "I believe you may have misled that woman."

"How downright awful of me. Look, jus' keep an' eye on them. Her kid's missin' an' you an' I both know where she is."

The zombie's expression shifted a fraction, tight skin over bone drawing down to create slight wrinkles at the edges of his downturned lips and between his brows. "Regretfully, yes." A hand hovered over Hanna's pale cheek, "Shall I wake him, then?"

Worth sighed. "Nah. I kin do this on my own. Work better that way, anyway. Always have."

A sparse brow raised and Worth ignored the potential implications behind the look, choosing to instead pick at the grime slowly accumulating along the edges of his short, cracked fingernails. "'S cold out there, Jolly Green. An' I ain't got time ta go back ta bed fer beauty sleep."

"Understood. Once Hanna wakes, I will bring Conrad here. I believe we have resided in this home long enough to give him entrance permission."

Nodding, Worth stood, feeling his joints creak. Decades of settling scores and relieving boredom with brawls making themselves known with increasing volume as he aged and wandered his way through the frozen wasteland of America. He left the tepid heat of the home and headed back out onto the street, hands shoved deep into pockets, chin tucked within the furry collar of his jacket. Oh sure, everyone made fun of him for his penchant for fur, but who was laughing now, cocksuckers? The street was empty and quiet. That was good, that meant people were doing their jobs and staying calm. Keeping Candy, Christ, what a classic name, knocked out and off their radar would help maintain the tenuous calm.

Icy eyes scanned the sides of the streets, areas where the snow remained undisturbed. It was glittering, reminding him a bit of the fairy wine he'd had months before during the treaty celebration. Looked stupid, tasted like fruit laced with mint, and it had knocked him flat on his ass drunk after only six shots. He had definitely developed a new appreciation for the fae after that. He vaguely remembered the dead beanpole smiling, Hanna actually looking relaxed for the first time in weeks, and Conrad might have actually been laughing a bit, in that goofy way that made his fang poke out and his ears look like open car doors.

As he thought about it, shielding his face from the biting wind, he spotted what he'd been looking for and what no one else had even thought to seek. On the edge, leading towards the thicket of undeveloped land at the end of the cul de sac were two sets of prints. One set was those of a child, sinking deep in the snow, interspersed with large indents from a slip and sideways fall, a scramble to get back up. The other was far more delicate, like sticks poked and slightly dragged in the white expanse.

The trail disappeared soon after Worth entered the wooded area, snow kept from blanketing the ground by the thick boughs overhead. It also made the area dark and he smelled more than felt that something wasn't quite right the farther he edged into the underbrush. He was doing his best to keep his steps soft, which was difficult while walking over innumerable twigs and acorns in old boots. Glancing behind himself, he scowled at how easily he was already becoming swallowed by the wood and pulled out a pocket knife to start carving marker arrows on large trees as he passed them. Whether he found the kid alive or not, he wanted to be sure he made it back himself.

There was plenty of time to think as he walked, his brain filling in the quiet, pausing only when he heard rustling or snapping somewhere deeper within the tangle of branches and bushes he was working his way through. He had liked that runespell, the one Hanna had given him on the handkerchief. Ever since the world went tits up, he'd been having dreams. Odd ones, strangely vivid, sticking with him long after waking. They changed, evolved, strings and faces of people who were dead hanging over him, clinging like the brush tangling around his worn jeans. He hadn't liked where they were going, becoming too loud, too insistent, yet unclear. He didn't care for that bullshit. Come out with something straight, or don't bother. His subconscious dreamville, apparently, didn't give two shits what Worth liked. Hanna had told him it was better to listen to his dreams than to magically slam himself into a dreamless sleep; ignoring them would just make them louder and more insistent. Worth told him he'd listen to what Hanna recommended when Hanna listened to his doctor's orders. There had been sullen silence after that.

He paused, brows lowering in concentration. There had been a sound, and yes, there it was again, off to his right. He hurried as best he could while remaining quiet, sneaking in deeper, breath puffing ahead of him, face feeling brief heat and then the cool of vapor dusting his cheekbones. Come on, kid, he thought, I know that was you. Keep making noise. A sob and the start of a wail were cut off abruptly and he grit his teeth, feeling the one Conrad had loosened earlier wiggling slightly under the pressure.

The woods were silent again, save for the occasional trill of something odd ahead of him. Worth fumbled, following his nose more than his eyes. When he found the clearing containing the skinwalker and the child, he nearly stumbled right out and on top of them. The only thing that saved him was that the creature's back was to him. He pulled back, squatting in the dirt and damp, crystalized leaves to watch them through small gaps in the foliage. The skinwalker was kneeling, rocking in rickety, off-kilter fashion, cradling the child in its discolored arms. A combination of relief and disgust rolled through the doctor as the child released another hitching sob, only to be silenced by the odd trill and bits of gibberish coming from the creature wearing a human suit.

Whomever had died had been female, as far as he could tell from the narrow shoulders and wide hips, stringy, mud crusted hair swinging in time as it moved with the child in its arms. It didn't appear to be doing much else, content to sit and sway in the clearing. Worth looked up and around himself for a better vantage point, eventually locating one several yards away. It would give him some height to look down as well as provide some cover. With the child as safe as possible, he backed up and turned, working his way with painstaking quiet to the slight overlook. Once there he crawled on his belly into the brush and pulled his rifle.

With a clearer view, he could better tell what was going on. The skinwalker was licking the girl's face and hair, warbling and nuzzling. It was sitting most likely, due to the clearly injured leg. It was bandaged, splinted as best as the people had been able to do given limited resources and skill. Worth's best guess was it had also been what killed the woman – an open break most likely, splintered bone protruding from the skin, developing a deep infection after a painful and pointless setting and binding. Beside the skinwalker lay a fawn, tiny and dead, clearly a case of winter starvation. Skinwalkers could shift bodies, and Worth surmised it had taken the form of the fawn to lure the child away. He had assumed its purpose had been feeding, but it was almost acting in a maternal manner, despite the bloated and discolored nature of its body, screaming of nothing but death and decay.

If only he could get a good shot. Every time he lined things up, the awkward movement would jerk and he would lose confidence in a clear headshot. The worst part of it was that the light was starting to fail him. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd have an opportunity to shoot the skinwalker, how much more visibility he would have. That wasn't even taking into account the fact that with the sun down, the cold would start to creep into his bones like a slow injection. He couldn't even smoke to keep himself from being bored, if the orange of burning tobacco didn't catch the skinwalker's attention, the drifting smoke certainly would. "I'm punchin' someone soon's I get back ta town," he grumbled, flexing fingers to ease their stiffness.

"Oh, I'm sure."

Worth whirled, grabbing the body that had somehow appeared beside him, yanking it down only to have his wrists twisted and pinned within the confines of an iron grip. He blinked, then glared up at the reflective green glint of predatory eyes. "Goddamn it, Conrad, of all th' times ya could finally learn how ta sneak up, ya sure picked a hell of one ta do it."

"Shut up and let go," was the clipped reply. "Do you have any fucking idea what it's like waking up with frozen limbs, unable to move, no one around to hear you shouting? No? Maybe I'll introduce you to it sometime. It wasn't pleasant, but God knows you seem to enjoy that sort of thing well enough. I'm only here and functioning because what's his name dragged me into the mess hall or café or whatever the fuck they call it and I could thaw out." The green glow of tapetum lucidum narrowed as the strange warbling noises took on a wet quality. "What the hell is it doing?"

Releasing Conrad Worth rolled back onto his stomach and peered out. "Oh," he said, watching as human teeth tore open the stomach of the fawn, smearing gore across it smouth and chest, chewing with smacks and grumbles before pulling more viscera from the body to press against the child's mouth, "looks like it's dinner time."

"Jesus," Conrad punched Worth none to gently in the ribs, earning a grunt from the blonde, "how can you see that and…and act like it's normal?"

"How th' fuck'm I s'pposed ta act, Conrad?" He hissed back. "At least it ain't eatin' th' kid."

The dark haired man shuddered in the heavy gray air, turning into little more than a dark sillhouette. "We have to do something. There have to be...diseases."

Worth snorted, "Yeah, that's what we gotta worry 'bout right now. Foodborne illnesses."

"Oh fuck you, you quack." Conrad was likely planning on following that up with something else, but was cut short by a sound beneath them. It wasn't wet. It wasn't trilling. It was something else, something that resonated deep within the base of their spines, stirring an instinctual reaction. Conrad looked and Worth could hear the vampire swallow, could see the outline of his body stiffen.

"Lemme guess," he turned away, eyes squinting into the branches above, "Somone jus' found out we crashed her party."

"Oh. Yes."

"Fantastic. Next time ya feel like throwin' a bitch fit, try not ta do it with a hungry demon in th' area, will ya?"

"Me? How is this my fault? I come out here to help you and the thanks I get is you sitting there acting like," he choked, "God."

"Well, guess so, though ya might be strokin' my ego a bit much there with grantin' me deification."

"No, look. Look." Cool hands touched Worth's cheek, rotating his face around. The light from the moon was filtering through into parts of the clearing, casting enough light that Worth could see the skinwalker lurching up and over to a tree, climbing it backwards. Its head was facing them, arms grasping behind itself, pulling it higher into the canopy, feet rotating and twitching when they weren't scratching, skinning the bark from the tree.

Squinting, Worth picked up the rifle. "Huh."

"Huh? Something from the fucking Exorcist has its sights trained on us and the best you can come up with is "huh"?"

"Seen worse," he replied, bracing the butt of the gun against his shoulder.

"Really? Worse? Worse than a bloated, walking corpse with Bambi's guts dribbling from its mouth, climbing a tree backwards?"

"Yep." He needed the moonlight, needed it to hold still long enough to get a shot. Someplace vital to put it out of commission. "Ya ferget, Connie. I've seen you in th' mornin'."

Conrad's outraged shriek caught the attention of the skinwalker, the side to side bobbing of its head stopping as it fixed on the vampire's postion. That was what Worth had been banking on as he pulled the trigger. "Good on ya, sweetheart."

What he hadn't been banking on was the fact that, from the distance and with the poor lighting, his bullet missed the chest. As he swore, the creature shrieked and pushed itself off of the tree, landing on all fours near the child, a strange chittering noise eminating from its rapidly gnashing teeth. Within a heartbeat, it was gone, skittering into the brush.

"Great shot. What the fuck do we do now?"

"Now you stay here, keep away from it. I'll grab th' kid. Mebbe we scared it off." Yeah, right. Worth had been around long enough to know it wouldn't be that easy.

So had Conrad, apparently, as he grabbed Worth's hand by the thumb, flipping it over to place something heavy within his palm. "At least take the...letter opener or whatever it is."

The blonde looked up, seeing little more than the luminescence of Conrad's eyes as they flitted around them. "Yeah. Stay back an' get out if ya hear it nearby. Don't need ya screwin' anythin' else up tonight."

"Right," the vampire released Worth's hand. "Have fun getting your face eaten."

Worth snorted and turned to make his way gingerly down the frosted hill. "Have fun gettin' that stick outta yer ass." The doctor skidded his way down to the clearing, half on the heels of his boots and half on his bony ass. He looked about himself more out of habit than out of it actually helping him any. The moonlight was spotty, lighting only where it was managing to make its way through openings between branches. Each snap of a twig, each swish of a branch had him freezing, hand gripping the iron weapon severely enough to make his joints ache.

The child was curled up on her side where the skinwalker had discarded her and he approached cautiously. "Hey. Hey, kid. This is important. I'm here ta get ya back ta yer ma." The girl remained silent, balled up tightly. "I need ya ta gimme a sign ya hear me. Christ, c'mon, kid," a cough was tickling in his chest, a warning that he had neglected his medical tobacco, (and hell, that was a hoot, wasn't it?) a bit too long. He coughed out a morbid chuckle. "Ain't doin' this fer my health."

One more step brought him within six feet of the girl, and it was apparently one step too many. His only warning was a shout from the hill before he found himself sprawled face first on the frozen ground, nose throbbing, dribbling heat down and over his upper lip. "Fuck! Th' fuck was-"

"It's her! The skinwalker!"

He forced himself onto his hands and knees, breathing shallowly, the back of his hand pressing under his nostrils. "Where is she?"

"I don't know! Somewhere in the brush!"

"Great," he spat, mouth tinged with copper, "thanks fer th' help ya useless knob."

Conrad began bitching in tight, clipped tones and Worth slowly stood, taking another cautious step towards the child. He threw a hand up in the air, stopping Conrad's wall of British pretentiousness. After this, he'd make sure the dick knew that just because Worth chose to use short words, it didn't mean he didn't understand the big ten dollar ones, too. "Achendick. Put those satellite dishes on yer head ta use. Ya year her clackin' up a storm, yeah? Figure out where it's comin' from."

Silence from the hill. Teeth in the woods. He stood, trying not to shiver in the cold, steam slithering from his mouth as he breathed and waited, shifting only slightly when the skinwalker's noise would ease, encouraging her to make more sounds.

"She's at your three o clock."

Nodding, he took another step towards the girl, throwing himself down on the unforgiving ground, rolling off to the side to avoid the skinwalker's next charge. He was gasping, breathing through his mouth, feeling his lungs protesting against the quick movement and hard landings. Stifling a cough, he waited.

"Seven o'clock."

Another step, another leap and dodge.

"One o clock!"

He rolled away, feeling the wind of the skinwalker as she passed him. Progress was being made, though. He was nearly next to the girl, and once he had her, well, fuck, he wasn't sure. He'd figure it out when he got there.

"Eight...thirty!"

"Thirty? Th' fuck kinda-" he threw himself to the side, losing ground and wrenching his knee on the landing. "Use real goddamned times, Conrad!"

"Eight thirty is a real goddamned time!"

"What's next? Ten fifty-three?"

"Yes, that's it. Antagonize the man who's essentially your seeing eye dog right now. I haven't forgotten what you said about my ears, you know."

"I won't forget ya jus' called yerself my dog, puppy."

"You want me to start telling you where she is by Stonehenge time?"

"Ya vindictive bitch." He looked up into the dark, general direction of Conrad's voice. "Do it an' I'll pull that' fuckin' snaggle tooth right outta yer oversized head."

"Twelve! Twelve!"

"Fu-" he was cut off as the skinwalker made contact with a preemptive strike, knocking him onto the ground. His head was grabbed and smashed against the solid ground once, heat spilling out over his forehead and onto the pine needles stuck to his face. Nails were scrabbling at his clothes, searching for a vulnerable point as teeth snapped against the fur covered back of his neck. Conrad was shouting, making a shit ton of noise as Worth sluggishly lashed out with the dagger, feeling the slight drag as it made contact with flesh. The skinwalker screeched, flinging itself backwards and out of his reach.

He lunged, nails digging in the dirt, launching himself at the skinwalker who dodged in and out of the soft rays of light. The iron dagger gleamed dully; thick, dark blood smeared across the blade. Worth feigned to the right, then ducked back in with a thrust to his left, feeling the tip of the dagger splitting flesh and dragging across rib. The creature unleashed a warbled cry and threw itself down, crawling like a cockroach away from Worth faster than the man could turn to keep up. He was sweating, gasping, a cough gurgling itself up within his lungs like boiling water.

"It's bleeding! I can smell it! Ugh, smells like Hanna." From the sound of it, Conrad was pinching that gargantuan beak of his closed with his hand.

The skinwalker's head twitched, then in one boneless motion swung low, chin dragging across the ground as its attention shifted from the doctor to the top of the hill.

"Ah, Christ. Connie get th' fuck outta there!" Thin thighs pumped, calves complaining against the sudden movement as Worth ran at the skinwalker, failing to stop it before it heaved itself up onto a tree and out of sight. He struggled to see, winding up only hearing Conrad's swearing and the snapping of twigs. His heart was quaking in his chest, adrenaline making him stupid, reactionary. Think, fucking think. He would never make it in time to help Conrad, hell, he could barely see his own hand infront of his face. So there was just one option.

He turned, found the child still lying motionless save for her breathing and ran to her, squatting and scooping her small body into his arms. "Kid, I know yer off in la-la land somewhere, but if yer ma asks, this wasn't me." He looked up towards the top of the hill, distantly amused that, even if Conrad might be a complete fairy princess, at least he had the mouth and fists of a sailor. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted the girl's shirt and pinched her side.

It was enough to bring her out of her stupor. It was enough to make her wail and cry and shake. It was enough to bring the fight back to him.

She came out of the woods on all fours, leaping and rolling her way down the steep hillside, down into the clearing, barreling heedlessly forward on a collision course with the doctor. Worth had just enough time to discard the weeping child before the skinwalker was on top of him, all knees and elbows, long nails and snapping jaws. The dagger clanked against a rock, flying out of his grip and landing just out of his reach.

On his back, Worth wedged a knee between her stomach and his, helping to keep her weight and knees from his gut, but her arms were wrenching themselves out of his stiff fingered grip. Spittle frothed and dripped in long strings from her teeth. He needed to stab her, now was the perfect time, but each time he reached for the dagger she would begin to overtake him. The tips of his fingers could touch the metal, but he couldn't quite get it in his grip, body writhing, trying to maintain control, keep her teeth from sinking into his skin, though they had already done a hell of a job on the fabric of his coat, and fuck, he just needed a few more inches to reach the dagger.

There was a sudden, sharp whistle and the skinwalker's head whirled, looking up the hill. It snarled once, muscles tensing as if to jump. Worth's fingers wrapped themselves around the hilt of the dagger.

And then, with a crack, the skinwalker's face was gone, replaced by a smear of dark, raw meat.

The body held still within Worth's grip, rigor mortis reclaiming the body. He rolled on his side, releasing its wrists, wiping skin, hair, and brain tissue from his face. Conrad skidded his way down the hill, Worth's rifle in his hands. He stumbled his last few steps, then approached the doctor, both man and vampire staring at the body.

"So," the vampire sniffed, hand on his hip, "who's the better distance shot now?"

"Only 'cause I was holdin' her fer ya. I had a movin' target. 'Sides, was about ta do this anyway," he flipped the dagger into an icepick grip and stabbed it deep into the chest. He always double tapped.

They were quiet as Worth retrieved the dagger from the torso with a soggy, sucking sound, wiping the blade against the dead leaves and pine needles on the ground. He took the rifle from Conrad, feeling the hours and rime aching in his bones as the inside of the dead woman dried and froze to his face.

"I don't think she can walk," Conrad stated softly, and Worth didn't feel like making a crack about missing a face making that kinda hard. He knew who the vampire meant.

"Yeah," was what he said instead, "someone's gotta carry her."

"Kids...aren't really my thing."

"Ain't mine, either."

"...Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Fer fuck's sake, Conrad, I'm covered in decayin' flesh, my knee feels like it got kicked by a mule, an' I ain't had a smoke in 'bout twenny four hours."

"Yes, but," the silhouette of the vampire's shoulders drooped. "Fine.

Worth watched Conrad walk over to the child and pick her up. He could kill for a cigarette, coughing thickly into his fist. Conrad looked at him, pale face bright as he stood in a patch of moonlight, one hand extended to the doctor. Worth stared at Conrad's hand. "Th' fuck's this?"

"You can't see, right? I can. It's just like in school. Stick with your buddy."

His head tilted backwards, body shaking as he laughed. "Yer shittin' me! I ain't holdin' yer hand an' prancin' through th' woods by th' light a th' full moon."

"One, it's a waning moon. Two, I don't know how you make your way through the woods, but I find prancing not to be my preferred method. Three," he seemed to have more difficulty remaining haughty for the third rebuttal, "I don't know how else I'm supposed to lead you and make sure you don't get lost. But, by all means, if you have some other ideas, run them by me. And, no," he glared, "putting a leash on me isn't an option."

Worth shook his head, then waved a hand with a flourish. "Right then." He took Conrad's hand, smirking into the inky dark of the forest, hearing the tentative chirp of a bird and the crunch of ice under foot. "Heel, boy."

Worth assumed Hanna was glad to see them when they entered the house. He assumed because the first thing Hanna did was scowl and fish out a cigarette. At least he knew ginger snap wanted him to live a little bit longer.

He pulled a drag deep into his lungs, holding it there as he had marijuana when he had been messing around with it back in junior high and high school.

"Worth," the zombie spoke, an ever constant presence around the preternaturally youthful Hanna, "I believe the expression is "you look like shit.""

"Smells like it, too. I've been careful not to take any unnecessary breaths for the past twenty minutes." Conrad shifted the child in his arms, still staring vacantly, tiny thumb lodged in her mouth.

Feeling the dried viscera on his skin crack and flake off, Worth pursed his lips, blowing smoke in Conrad's face. The vampire batted it away, which was stupid. The whole house was filled with the haze of burning tobacco, Worth's wasn't going to make a damn bit of difference. "Wanna help me wash up then, Connie? Make sure I get b'hind my ears?"

Conrad's nose curled. "I want to throw you in a lake."

"Good ta know th' honeymoon ain't over yet." Worth noted that Hanna still hadn't said anything, which concerned the doctor far more than the smell of a rotting body frozen to his clothes and face. The magic user's expression was changing as he looked at the little girl, lost somewhere within her own mind. He worked the cigarette down to the nub and nodded. "Put her down, Connie. Mebbe she'll walk now."

Uncertain, Conrad complied, slowly setting her down, hooking his hands under her armpits and holding until he was certain that she was supporting her own weight. Hanna pulled his sweater sleeve up over his hand, using it to brush browned smears of blood from the girl's cheeks. "Hey there uh, Amy, right? Yeah, Amy. Hey. I'm Hanna and, yeah, not a boy's name, I know, get it all the time. You're okay now, though, okay? You want to see your mom? She's right over here, I can take you to her, she's okay and you're okay and everyone's okay, okay?"

The girl blinked, slowly, automatically, remaining unresponsive.

Grimacing, Hanna stood back up, taking one of the girl's hands, stepping forward to lead her out of the foyer and into the communal sleeping area in the living room. Her mother was there, groggy, still coming out of the forced sleep state, but instantly recognized her daughter, bursting out into tears. Candy slumped off of the couch, legs giving way as she pulled her daughter against her chest, holding her tightly, shoulders heaving. Amy stared at the wall over her mother's quaking shoulders, silent.

Scattered throughout the room, the lumps huddled together under blankets occasionally glanced over, up at the shadows hovering at the threshold of the room. The voices weren't ones they knew well enough to subconsciously recognize as safe, and it was rousing them from their sleep. They were familiar enough not to cause alarm, though, and a few looks confirmed it was just the newcomers, the ones with the strange, inhuman traveling companions. They were okay enough, had scribbled protective nonsense on their houses. Sleep would find the survivors again, and one by one they gave up on watching, choosing instead to return to unconsciousness.

But they were awakened again as the mother pulled back, truly looking at her daughter for the first time, the haze of magic cleared from her system with the salt of tears and emotional release. "What...what's wrong with her?"

"Er, she'll be okay! I uh...a bath and stuff and, you know," Hanna was smiling awkwardly, wriggling his fingers, nervous energy building.

"No, no, what's wrong with her? Baby? Baby it's me, it's-what's wrong? Why isn't she saying anything?" The mother's hands stroked over her daughter's vacant face, across her skin and smoothing back her tangled hair.

"She's just um...traumatized," the man's head bowed, eyes hidden behind the glare on his thick glasses, white teeth working against chapped pink lips. "It-it's not as bad as it looks, er, I mean, okay, it's bad, it's always bad, but, but it's not permanent. It's just...she'll be okay eventually, sorta, mostly. It's just, you know when the mind, uh, when you experience something and your brain can't handle it, can't totally understand what's going on because holy shit, this shit isn't supposed to be real or to happen, especially not to you or your family and now you'll never see them again and it's just you and this new, fucked up world and how the hell can you get through this and will you get through this and-"

The zombie placed a hand on Hanna's shoulders and from across the room Worth could see the way the red head flinched, then turned into the touch.

"I mean. She'll get through it. She won't be herself for awhile, but, one day, she'll start to come back. She's just...hiding," he finished feebly.

"This...all of this...none of this would have happened, if..." oh, Worth knew what was coming now. Now was string of rage and blame. Oh no, it wasn't her fault for not watching her kid, it was Hanna's fault, all Hanna's fault. It was Hanna's fault for finding them, dragging them, yeah, she really just said dragging, and coercing them into leaving where they were and coming out to this town. And so it was his fault that her daughter was now a walking vegetable. Every word was a blow, making Hanna's slight form cringe a little more; the abused puppy, ever hopeful for a single kind word and touch thrown his way, only to be kicked around and left hungry. Worth glanced at Conrad and noted with a little satisfaction the way the vampire was glaring at her.

He would have said something, hell, yelling at sorry idiots was one of his favorite pastimes, but the woman's rage was consuming, and as she moved to grab Hanna, she was stopped by the zombie. One gloved hand, held on with neat, tight black stitching, had snapped out like a snake, fingers wrapped around her wrist. His tall, thin body bent over, looming as the amber glow of his eyes cast dark shadows across a gaunt face. "I would not," he rumbled, "advise doing that."

When green bloke wanted to be, he could be damn intimidating.

Startled, Candy retreated back, holding Amy again, whether for her daughter's comfort or her own, Worth wasn't sure and didn't care. Not-So-Jolly-Right-Now Jolly Green Giant was speaking, both hands on Hanna's shoulders while the bundled survivors watched with newly suspicious eyes.

"It is true. Hanna did bring you here. As I recall, you had been willing to trade certain...services for the food and shelter he gave you willingly. And I also seem to recall that he provided you with some of his socks, with an apology for the holes. We all provided protection as we transported you and your children to this new town, as well as a continued and steady supply of food and potable water. Once here, he bartered to guarantee you a safe entry and acceptance. That was not easy to do, and he did not ask anything of you. You had the right to refuse his offers of food, shelter, safety, and a new start. You chose to accept them. If a crime was committed here, it was not committed by Hanna."

A slight, weary smile toyed at the edges of Hanna's mouth. "Thanks, Goliath."

"I merely stated facts. There is no need to thank me." He inclined his head, "But you are welcome."

The woman looked away, the fight gone from her body and eyes. She busied herself sniffling and then plucking debris from her daughter's hair. She had just made things much more difficult for herself in her new home. Hopefully the kids wouldn't be ostracized, but biting the hand that feeds wasn't a good way to enamor yourself to the people you rely on to keep you fed and warm. Whatever. Worth was ready to call it an early night and just sit in a corner breathing the acrid air, soaking in the almost heat of the room.

But no, it wasn't that easy. Hanna was feeling far too uncomfortable now, and, despite Conrad being a complete failpire in almost all regards, well, sleeping with him in the room probably wasn't going to put the already somewhat edgy survivors in their happy places. He took a final deep breath and rolled his eyes. "Oughta clean up b'fore we head back 'n' sleep. Where kin I wash?"

"You're offering to bathe?" Conrad raised a single eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, 'n' guess what? Ya get ta watch. Aintcha lucky?"

Apparently he didn't think so, given the way he jumped back like a wild eyed cat.

"I do not remember bathing facilities," orange glow replied. "Perhaps a change of clothes and a damp rag will have to suffice. Hanna?"

"Yeah." The red head sighed and raised his head a fraction. "That'll probably have to be it, Kumar." He adjusted his glasses and forced a smile. "It's pretty cool that you're going to wash up, though. Maybe it can be a once a week thing or something? Sort of like pizza night, but wash night, but not for clothes, though I guess we should wash them eventually, when it's summer, 'cause in winter you just set stuff outside and the bacteria freezes because-" he was moving, heading out of the door while the others trailed behind, Worth cast a final glance at Candy before shutting the door behind himself, barely listening to Hanna's noise as they walked on blue tinted and sparkling streets to the camper. They filed in with Hanna still talking, grabbing rags and a canteen from the kitchenette counter, stuffing them in Worth's hands. "-and then I was like, totally confused, because, why didn't they give Chewbacca a medal at the end of the first movie? I mean, he was there, he was badass, and helped the Rebel Alliance and that's kind of just a really lame name, isn't it? Rebel Alliance. It's like they just gave up and were like "meh, we're a bunch of rebels who allied ourselves so, fff, we're the Rebel Alliance." You can't even hide if you straight up use that name, you gotta get creative, and dude, you gotta take those clothes off and throw them outside asap 'cause there's enough thawing that this place is gonna stink."

Worth poured water onto a rag and began swiping it over the ridges and hollows of his face, not even caring as small chunks of ice scraped across his skin. He was just glad the whole canteen hadn't frozen while it sat out in the camper for hours. That and, yeah, honestly, he was smelling pretty ripe, even to his own nose, but Hanna was the one complaining, not Connie, and it just wasn't quite as fun reveling in your own filth when twinkle toes wasn't bitching about it. He'd still consider "accidentally" rolling over in a manner that "just happened" to put his armpit over the vampire's face, though. That was always good for some shits and giggles. He tossed the rags down and shrugged out of his coat while Hanna and the zombie ventured into the small, back bedroom.

"You missed a spot."

"I miss a lotta spots. Usually on purpose." Worth grabbed the bottom hems of shirt and sweater, lifting them both up and over his head at once. Sweet fuck it was cold without the body heat they had helped to trap. He shuddered, realizing it would have been much smarter to grab something clean and have it ready to wear prior to stripping. He turned to go into the back bedroom, but was stopped by Conrad's hand on his elbow. "Ya know, icepaws, ya ain't helpin' me out here. Unless thass it. Ya jus' wanna make sure I got a good chill? Get th' nipples poppin'?"

"Wha? I don't...ugh, for fuck's sake." Glaring, he yanked on the elbow, not enough to dislocate anything, but enough to tug Worth's face down to his level. "I don't want to get anything "poppin'", as you put it, least of all your nipples." He quickly worked the rag around the shell of Worth's ear, dipping in slightly, then bringing it back and out to rub over the lobe.

The doctor shuddered once, then scowled deeply. "Ya about done yet, ma?"

Eyes rolling, Conrad dropped the rag on top of Worth's discarded shirt and coat. Worth kicked the clothes out of the door and headed into the back where there was a regular old cuddle puddle starting on the sagging mattress. Tugging on a fresh shirt and sweater, or, as fresh as anything got these days, he added his spindly body to the rest. Not bothering to take off his shoes (not like anyone else did, anyway), he drew the covers up to his ears. They had found the best way to lie was with the two humans in the middle and the two undead on the ends. Worth had threatened on more than one occasion to blast ass if he caught Connie spooning him. He had yet to make good on his promise.

The shared heat spread between the men, and then to the vampire and zombie on either side of them. Muscles relaxed, Worth's eyes slid shut.

"So uh...that was her then? On your face?"

"Yep."

"Soooooo totally decommissioned?"

"Yep."

Hanna melted, worry and guilt temporarily alleviated. "I'm glad you got to her in time. You should have gotten me up, though. I totally could have helped. Maybe get her before the trauma set in. How'd you find her?"

Worth felt Conrad shift behind him, edging a little closer, while Hanna slid both of his hands under the flat pillow. "Could hear her. Her 'n' th' skinwalker."

"It wasn't, like, chasing her or anything?"

"It was cradling her," Conrad replied, breath ruffling Worth's hair. "And then it tried to...feed her, I guess."

"Really? Weird." The glow of the zombie's eyes was turning the unruly curls of Hanna's hair into coiled neon. "Maybe it was a remnant."

"Remn'nt a what?"

"Like, a leftover bit of life. Memory. That's why skinwalkers move so funny. See, they usually start out as a medicine man or woman, taking a spiritual form of an animal for rituals and stuff. But sometimes they can get a bit uh...warped by all that shape shifting and projecting and they sort of lose the connection to their own body. So they seek out other bodies, especially when they're old or injured. And then they just keep body hopping, never really fully satisfied with where they are, and they lose their humanity along the way. So, when they've lost enough humanity, human becomes another option for dinner." He rubbed his nose, then settled back down. "So, they'll crawl like a spider 'cause they were a spider once and they have the memory. They'll howl at the moon because they were a wolf. I've never heard of one like, stealing a kid to keep, but, I guess it's possible."

Conrad was edging closer. Worth could feel the vampire's knees against the back of his thighs. "Or mebbe it jus' wanned ta fatten her up fer later."

"Maybe. Who knows? They're kinda wackadoo. Sorta like Rogue, with all those memories and they can't keep it all straight, yannow? Anyway, it's cool you got her. Not many people survive an up close fight with a skinwalker." He yawned widely. "Maybe you should keep a diary and get it published later. When we have electricity and indoor plumbing again. You can call it "Diary of a BAMF" and read it while using the electricity and indoor plumbing." The red head was fading into sleep quickly, his usual rush of words slowing from a raging river to a drying up stream. "Bros. I totally miss poopin' inside."

"Yeah, don't we all." Cool hands weren't quite resting on Worth's back, but they were resting beside it, sandwiched between his body and the chest of the vampire. "I miss fast food."

"Libraries."

"Macbooks."

"Dude, the internet."

"Fuckin' central air. Cool in th' summer an' hot in th' winter."

"Eight hundred count Egyptian cotton sheets."

"Laundromats."

"Havin' shit delivered."

"Macchiatos."

"Th' fuck's that? Some gay porn star?"

"Noooo, that's totally the guy from Karate Kid. Right? Am I right? I'm totally right."

"I believe it's a coffee."

"Well that's fuckin' bullshit. Ya weren't drinkin' that b'fore we got thrown back ta th' eighteen hundreds."

When Conrad scoffed, his breath was close enough that Worth thought he felt the light graze of a fang on his neck. "Oh fuck you, yes I did. Just...not quite as much in the past year or so before this happened. If I mixed some blood in it wasn't so bad."

"Aww," Hanna was close to the doctor, too, and Worth had learned long ago not to look at the red head's face when it was this close to his. Those eyes had a way of unsettling you. "Who was the guy waxing on and off?"

"Ralph Macchio."

"Dude. Yes. Totally." There was another yawn, this one directly in Worth's face. Hanna was down for the count. "I knew I could...count on you...Ralph."

"Yannow, ya kin count on me, too, Connie," he lifted a leg and the vampire immediately scooted back to avoid the danger zone.

"Same here," he followed up with a punch to the kidneys before rolling over so that they were lying back to back.

Snickering, Worth thought about his handkerchief. He tried to picture the rune pattern in his mind, trying to remember the way the fabric felt under his fingers and the perfect, pure blackness of sleep it would bring him. Hopefully he was too tired to dream, too tired for all that mystic bullshit to dance its jumbled way through his subconscious that night. He'd earned a little rest, as far as he was concerned. But the universe didn't always agree with what he thought, and he drifted off to sleep with an aching knee and a cool body pressed against his.