Night Prowler
A/N: So this is my longest one-shot ever! O.O
I do not own Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod Crane etc, he belongs to Washington Irving and Fox
The title comes from the AC/DC song
Thanks to AlElizabeth for beta-ing
I had written this for Halloween and then forgot to post it. So this is a little late but close enough :)
I hope you enjoy
Captain Irving sat in his office, Luke Morales and Ichabod Crane across from him. "So, we have a problem don't we, gentlemen?"
Morales cleared his throat, "Sir?"
"I have Mills and Jones sick, and I need another patrol car out there, it being Devil's Night and all," Irving replied.
"It's what?" Crane asked, frowning in his confusion.
"Devil's Night, Crane, it's the night before Halloween," Irving replied irritably. He really didn't want to be hanging out at the station all night, he would rather be home. Macy was over for the weekend and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his little bean.
Crane nodded emphatically, "Of course, derived from the Scottish 'All Hallow's Eve."
Morales turned slightly towards the other man, his eyebrows drawn together, mystified, "Alright there, Professor, thanks for the origins lesson. So what are you getting at, Captain?"
Irving shook himself out of his daydream and looked at the two men, "I want you two to go out on patrol. Together," he clarified.
Morales looked horrified, "But sir, this man is supposed to be just a consultant, you can't send me out with an untrained man! I'd even take a rookie!"
"Don't worry, Morales, Crane is good enough for a quiet night in Sleepy Hollow. I don't want to listen to this anymore," Irving dismissed.
Morales sat staring at the Captain, his mouth hanging open. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Crane stand and leave the office, his hand digging in one of the pockets of his raggedy old coat.
Irving looked up from the paperwork, "What Morales?"
"Please sir, you have to reconsider," Luke begged, casting a long glance at Ichabod who appeared to be on his cellphone.
Irving tented his fingers and levelled his best glare at the other man. "I need you to do this. We do not have many options, believe me if we did I wouldn't be sending him out tonight, he has better things to do."
Morales frowned; he hadn't considered what an inconvenience it must be for the consultant to perform routine police work. Finally, he nodded and left the Captain's office, heading for his temporary partner.
"I must end this conversation now, Miss Mills, please get some rest," Crane said into the phone and snapped it shut as Morales drew near. "Detective Morales, I just wanted to inform you that I will do my best to assist you in any way tonight," Ichabod told the other man.
Morales looked Ichabod up and down before nodding, "Let's go." As they left the station, Morales cleared his throat. "I didn't want to say this in front of everyone, but these are the rules: If there are any problems, I respond. You are not a cop and shouldn't even be carrying a gun. All you'll be doing is sitting in the cruiser, waiting for me. I don't care if you play Snakes on your phone all night, the Captain wants you to come with me and that's what is going to happen, but that's all that's going to happen," Morales told him, unlocking his patrol car.
"Detective, I have no intention to impend your authority; however Lieutenant Mills has found that some of my assistance is quite useful at ti-" Crane explained but was cut off.
"No, you'll stay in the car and you won't talk," Morales interrupted.
Crane stopped walking and looked over the roof of the car at the Detective, "Very well, if my assistance would be such a hindrance, I will acquiesce to your superior experience." He then ducked and settled into the passenger's seat.
"Snarky bastard," Morales mumbled before sitting in the car also and pulling out of the parking lot and into the darkness of Devil's Night.
The two had been driving around the quiet streets of Sleepy Hollow without speaking for two hours and Morales seemed to be losing his nerves in the battle of wills.
Finally, he broke the silence, "So, why Abbie?"
Crane frowned at the unexpected question. "I beg your pardon?"
"Why did you choose Abbie? Do you have a thing for girls like that or is it because Corbin had just died and you wanted someone desperate?" Morales explained, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
"If by 'girls like that' you mean brave and intelligent and strong, then yes. And as for personality of Lieutenant Mills I would not use 'desperate' as a choice word, I would use courageous or confident, essentially any antonym," Crane replied, not looked at the Detective. "And as for 'choosing' Miss Mills, I had no say in the matter. It was destiny," he stated simply.
At that, Morales slammed on the brakes, sending the cruiser skidding several feet and Ichabod scrambling for a hand hold, the seatbelt pulled tight across his chest. "I can't believe you would pull some weird destiny shit on me. I mean Jesus Christ, what are you? Some occultist trying to convert Abbie?"
"Occultist? Surely not," Ichabod answered, finally turning to the other man.
Morales' face grew red with fury. "Why did she choose you over me? She could have gotten back together with me after Corbin, but she doesn't want anything to do with me! All she wants is to be with you!"
Ichabod frowned, "It is rather inappropriate to speak of the lady while she is not around, perhaps this is a conversation best reserved for when she is available?"
"Get out," Morales ordered, undoing his seatbelt.
"Detective?" Ichabod asked, more confused than before.
"I'm going to prove to Abbie that I'm better than you. Now get out," Morales ground out.
Ichabod unclipped his seat belt. It seemed Morales wanted a duel; he'd had those before, of course, for much better reasons than the attention of the Lieutenant whom he had shown no interest in. "Detective, this is unnecessary, I have no interest in the Lieutenant and encourage you to speak with her on this matter yourself," Ichabod tried reasoning again as he stepped out of the car.
"Shut up," Morales snarled and swung his fist, landing the first blow.
Ichabod stumbled back into the road, holding his nose which had started bleeding. "Detective! It is improper to begin before both opponents are ready," Ichabod snapped, glaring at Morales.
"Oh Jesus, don't you get it Crane, I don't care about being proper!" Morales yelled and swung his fist, which this time Ichabod side stepped.
"Please, Detective, I have no desire to fight you," Ichabod said, but assumed a defensive position.
Morales didn't bother answering this time; instead he lunged at the other man. Ichabod, resigned, swung and felt the Detective's nose break beneath his fist. The Detective dropped, holding his noise. At the same time, Ichabod heard a sound he'd begun to associate with one of Moloch's minions, a soft scuttling, and scurrying noise. He took his eyes off the Detective and scanned the road for the creature but couldn't find anything.
He was brought back into the fight by a hard punch to his gut, which left Ichabod gagging. He heard a creature howl somewhere close by and struggled to regain composure, swinging his arm out when he felt Morales drawing near again. Ichabod managed to slightly straighten and swung another fist, landing Morales on his back.
As the Detective fell backwards, Ichabod had a brief flash of a large creature jumping straight towards him, jumping right through the space Morales had been standing moments before. The creature bounded off Ichabod, sending the man flipping across the road and slamming into the police cruiser.
Ichabod tried to stand but his legs seemed to refuse to listen and he weakly flopped back onto the cement, his head rolling. Through his double vision, he could see Morales still rolling on the ground, holding his nose. Ichabod heard a growl just to his side and saw the creature rounding the car, its eyes glowing red, long strings of drool dripping onto the asphalt.
"Detective," Ichabod mumbled softly, trying his best to not draw attention to the other man.
The creature's growl deepened and Ichabod froze in fear, his blue eyes unable to leave the soulless red ones.
Over the growls, Ichabod could hear Morales groan and grumble about being knocked back, a good sign that the man was going to sit up and see the demon. Ichabod's hand inched slowly towards his gun, he could feel the grip with his pinky when the demon lunged and locked its jaws around his shoulder. Ichabod yelled, agony racing through his body.
Morales jolted at the sound of the screamed and looked across to his cruiser, where Crane was being mauled by a giant dog.
"Jesus," Morales gasped and pulled his gun out, pointing it at the dog. He started to pull the trigger when the dog dropped Crane and turned its eyes on the Detective. Morales froze solid, the red eyes holding him, terror filling his entire being.
The dog, seemingly satisfied, turned back to Crane, its mouth open again to bite.
"Shoot it!" Ichabod yelled, surprising Morales who had thought that the man had surely blacked out.
The dog snarled at its victim and raised one giant paw and planted it hard on the man's chest, the claws digging in deep, drawing wells of blood.
Morales swallowed and raised his gun again, aiming for the dog. His hand shook and he didn't think he would be able to pull the trigger. This is so wrong! What is going on? Why am I so scared! He questioned himself. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his grip as steady as possible, and pulled the trigger.
Ichabod gasped in relief when the pressure from the demon dog disappeared as the Detectives bullet sprayed its brains across the hood of the car and the creature vanished into dust. Ichabod slumped, his vision greying at the edges. He felt someone touching his neck, was vaguely aware of someone speaking to him, shaking him, calling his name, but his vision was swallowed into black before he could find the strength to respond.
Abigail Mills was not impressed, to say the least, when she was awoken at half past eleven to inform her that, as she was listed as next of kin, was required at the General Hospital for a Mr. Ichabod Crane. Slowly, Abbie has dressed in joggers and a bulky sweater stuffed her pockets with Kleenex and shuffled out to her car.
When she'd arrived at the hospital, she was greeted by Morales, who was sitting in the waiting room with a bandaged nose and two black eyes. Abbie frowned at the Detective as she made her way to the nurse's station, "Abigail Mills for Ichabod Crane."
The nurse, a woman who appeared to have been working for too many years and had rolled out of her bed in scrubs, handed her a clipboard, "Fill these out; the doctor will see you when he's available."
Abigail grabbed the clipboard and sat down a couple seats away from Luke, wiping her nose with one of the Kleenexes. She started to fill out the papers, sniffling deeply as she did so, when Irving arrived at the waiting room. He stopped directly in front of Morales, his face full of rage, "What happened?"
Morales gaped at the Captain before answering, "It was a dog. It got the jump on us."
"A dog? From what I hear, Morales, is Crane is in emergency surgery and they're not sure he's going to make it," Irving snapped.
"What?" Abbie gasped, the clipboard slipping from her fingers and landing loudly on the floor.
Irving turned slowly towards Abigail, "Mills, I didn't know you got here yet…"
"What happened to Crane?" She asked, her vision leveling on Luke.
"It was the biggest damn dog I'd ever seen, at least seven feet tall," Morales explained.
Abbie couldn't breathe. Her partner was almost killed by what she could only assume was a demon sent by Moloch and she hadn't been there to protect him. If he died, the Apocalypse would start and she would be solely responsible.
"Why didn't you have his back?" Irving demanded, only too aware that the demon dog probably was another thing he labelled as 'not needing to know.'
"We were fighting. I was so angry. He stole Abbie and didn't even have the balls to admit it," Morales accused, some of his anger creeping back into his voice.
Abbie frowned at her ex. "Crane didn't steal me; he's just a consultant, that's all."
Irving stepped back from the two. "I want a full report on what happened by tomorrow noon and you're suspended for a week. Keep me posted on him," he added to Abbie.
Abbie and Luke sat silently in the waiting room. "This is why I didn't get back together with you. You're angry all the time, Luke, and I just couldn't take it anymore. When Crane showed up, he gave me the confidence to stand up for myself. He's my best friend, Luke, and he might die because you were too petty to realise you were the biggest road block in our relationship, not him." With that, Abbie picked up the clipboard and continued filling out the forms.
It was almost three hours later when a doctor entered the waiting room and asked to speak with the next of kin privately. Abbie scanned the doctor for any sign of blood, but it seemed he'd cleaned himself up quite nicely before visiting family.
The doctor led Abbie to his office, which was just a small room a couple meters away from the nurses' station and had her sit down.
"Miss Mills, my name is Dr. Bruinsma, I operated on Mr. Crane. He came in with severe injuries. It seems the dog bite his left shoulder and damaged the muscles badly; however he should fully recover function. He also seemed to have been scratched by the dog, and I have to tell you Miss Mills, judging by the distance of the claw marks, that was the biggest dog I've ever heard of. We are running cultures for rabies right now, but we proactively gave him the first shot of Imovax. Mr. Crane had road rash on several areas of his body, his back being the worst and head trauma, which we are monitoring," the doctor explained.
Abbie sat silently, absorbing the news. "Can I see him?" She asked.
The doctor nodded, "He's being moved to his room."
Abbie didn't speak as she walked past Morales, her eyes completely averted. She waited patiently for the porter to move Ichabod from the stretcher and the nurses to hook up his IV and oxygen before moving closer. Abbie felt tears coming to her eyes as she looked down at his cut face and gently brushed some errant hair from his eyes. She brought a chair close to his bed and held his hand, gently rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.
"Hey… Ichabod," she spoke softly. Abbie carefully pulled down his blanket and inspected the thick white bandages the surgeons had covered him in before covering his chest. "I'll make sure I find your clothes, alright? So you don't need to worry about that. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you. I… I don't know what I would do without you, I mean; you're the other Witness, right? We have to stay together through the Apocalypse," she whispered.
Abbie jumped when she felt Ichabod's hand twitch slightly in her grip and stared, astounded when his eyes opened slightly, a small smile on his lips. "I'm thankful I was injured and you were not… Abbie," he told her, his voice rough and slow from the anesthesia. "I am also pleased to know you will locate my clothing for me," he teased before his eyes slipped closed again.
Abbie smiled down at her partner, unbelievably relieved to have seen him awake, even for the brief moment. "Get some rest, Crane."
A/N: Imovax is anti-rabies medication used in people pre and post-exposure.