A different take on the church scene in chapter 7. Joseph has another episode, but this time, Sebastian isn't able to help him. Rated M for gore.

Communion
Oneshot

The last time Sebastian had been in a church, he had sat in the same front, left side pew that Joseph was sitting in, and he had felt just as helpless.

He remembered Myra's hand in his, not holding it, not exactly. They just wove their fingers together and stayed that way through the entire service, a token gesture of comfort between two broken souls who didn't know how to offer anything else. He would have gripped her tight if not for the fear that she would then expect something more. He didn't have any words for her, then. He couldn't specifically remember even looking at her. But he remembered the cool, dead weight of her hand in his, and the creeping, silent panic that came with the realization that he had no idea what to do.

Joseph shuddered, elbows on knees and head in hands, while Sebastian looked on. His skin was already a sickly, pale color, but was hot to the touch, and his eyes were bloodshot with fatigue. Fresh blood flecked his lips with every wet breath. He already wasn't any version of Joseph Oda Sebastian had ever known. In the echoing hollow of the church every choke and cough resounded a dozen times, prickling Sebastian's arms with goose bumps. He had shoved Joseph out of the way of a bullet, once. He had dragged his drunk ass out of a cab and up two flights of stairs to his apartment the night after a particularly messy case went south. He had told Joseph to fuck off a few times, had spoken his mind, had acted when it was needed, but for the life of him he couldn't solve this one.

Don't fucking kill yourself. It should have been so easy to say.

Joseph lifted his head. He looked so ready to hear it, but Sebastian couldn't get the words on his goddamn tongue. He leaned back, trying to rally his wits, and in the process was reminded of a weight on his belt. A syringe.

Yes, good, cried his cowardly self. Action is easier than sentiment.

"Joseph." Sebastian yanked the rubber caps off the needles and gave them a moment's inspection; they didn't look any more sterile or inviting than anything else he'd encountered in their shared Hell, but it was all they had. "Have you seen these?" He showed it off, but Joseph only gave him a blank stare in return. "I know, you'd have to be crazy to stick something like this in your arm, but I have, and I haven't had any episodes like you. It's worth a try."

Joseph scraped his wrist across his mouth. "Probably can't make me worse," he said.

Sebastian winced; he didn't want to think about worse. He came forward as Joseph shoved his sleeve up as far as it would go. It has to work, he thought, slipping his thumb over the plunger. It'll work.

He touched the needles to the inside of Joseph's elbow; Joseph's hand snapped around his, tight and trembling and crusty with dried blood. But before he could break the skin, it came over him: the noise. The shrieking, twisted cacophony burrowed into his eardrums like fire ants, as fierce as it had ever been, and his hands began to shake. He had to draw the needles back.

He's here. Sebastian cursed, shoving one hand into his ear in a vain attempt to muffle the scream as he scanned the church. The pews seemed to flex at the rear, and the chandeliers clattered as they swayed, but he saw no familiar figure lying in wait. Still, he knew. He's here. He's coming for us.

"Joseph-" His hands weren't steady but he had no choice; he needed Joseph if they had any hope of fighting off their mad assailant, and his only hope of that lay in the syringe. He grabbed for Joseph's arm again and stretched it out, ready to inject him with God-only-knew what. It was a risk worth taking, but not taken in time.

Joseph slapped the needles out of his hand; they shattered against the stone floor and their medicine seeped quickly into the cracks. "What the hell are you doing?" Sebastian demanded. "That was-"

He only caught a glimpse at first. He saw black hair slicked down with sweat, and the whites of Joseph's eyes, sunken deep in ashen skin. Then the hands were on him. Joseph lunged from the pew with more than enough leverage to throw Sebastian off his balance, his gloved hands wildly clawing. Sebastian managed to keep them from his throat but his heels stumbled over a hunk of limestone, and he was pushed back step by step. The whine in his ears seemed poised to rattle him apart, but even over it he heard Joseph's voice rise in an inhuman wail.

No. Sebastian grabbed fistfuls of Joseph's vest and tried to keep him at bay. No, not like this.

"Joseph!" Sebastian hit the steps, and his knees, already weary from too many battles, all but gave out. He fell backwards and caught himself awkwardly against the rotting alter, but the falter was more than enough; Joseph was on top of him, his skin rippling with boils, and his fingers were twisting in Sebastian's hair, and he was yanking his head back-

The stained glass ceiling twinkled overhead, its myriad hues smearing into a bright, fiery glow in the waning daylight. Cracks drew jagged silhouettes across the images of fearful angels. It reminded him of the church he'd attended as a boy, always gazing upward as Sunday mass rang in his ears.

-and Joseph's teeth were in his neck. Sebastian fought back, digging his hands into Joseph's rotting cheeks and jaws. Blood and pus oozed over his knuckles with a burning sensation. "Joseph," he gasped out, shifting his legs in search of some stability from which he could counter. "Stop! It's me-you have to fight this!"

Joseph growled, and for a moment his hands slackened as if he was fighting after all, but then he bit down hard. His incisors tore across the underside Sebastian's jaw, and his molars crushed the small bones in Sebastian's thumb with an audible crack. The pain sent Sebastian's heart racing, but it was his own sweat seeping into the open wound that redoubled his struggles; he thought of the poison drooling from Joseph's sores infecting him, too, gave him the strength he needed to throw Joseph off.

"Fuck..." Sebastian clapped a hand over his neck. It's not deep, he told himself even as blood slicked his palm. Apply pressure. It's not deep. Pistol drawn he retreated behind the alter. He just needed time. Joseph would fight it off again, and they'd bandage their wounds together, and get the fuck out of the unholy church-

Sebastian looked back, and his breath left him. It wasn't like the last time. There wasn't any barbed wire, thankfully, but Joseph's skin was an all-too-familiar shade of corpse gray, and his eyes were gleaming an eerie white behind his glasses. He smacked his bloodied lips with the hungry relish of a beast.

"Joseph." Sebastian leveled his gun, but the earsplitting whine had pitched even higher, and his hand shook as if caught in its vibrations. "Joseph, look at me," he ordered. "This isn't what you are. You can fight it, just like before." He just needed more time-Joseph would come back. He always came back. "Come on, Joseph! Fucking fight it!"

Joseph came at him. The alter stood between them, and then suddenly it didn't, and they were only meters apart so much faster than should have been possible. Sebastian gripped his pistol in both hands and aimed, but as Joseph rushed at him, his finger froze around the trigger. He couldn't squeeze. He just needs more time, he thought, and he couldn't squeeze. He'll come back. He always-

Joseph tore the gun away from him. He seized Sebastian, one hand at his belt and the other his gun hostler, and threw all his weight forward. They hit the wall as wrestling animals, but Joseph had all the momentum, all the leverage, and he lurched in again with fangs bared.

Not like this, Sebastian thought as Joseph caught the already torn edge of his throat between his teeth. Not like this.

Sebastian tried to get his hands between them, but his thumb couldn't exert any pressure, and all he could do was claw at the pulsing sores blanketing Joseph's exposed skin. He was losing too much blood. Joseph's working jaws were chewing his mangled neck open and it turned his stomach as agony jolted all through him. We just need more time, Sebastian told himself, and he twisted his hip enough that he could snatch the hunting knife from his belt.

He didn't have the chance to use it; even before he could decide where to sheathe it, Joseph had him by the wrist. He slammed Sebastian's hand to the wall, then again and again, until his knuckles were raw and the knife was clattering away. It was surreal to have Joseph's strength turned on him when only half an hour ago he'd been limp in Sebastian's arms.

"Joseph," he said, trying one more time even though panic was setting in and it was getting hard to breathe. "You gotta..." He gulped and felt his Adam's apple bob against Joseph's chin. "Hey. You remember the last time...we were in a church?" He looked again to the stained glass, let the orange and red blur into smoldering embers. "I wouldn't have made it through that day, if you-"

Joseph shuddered violently, but instead of retreating he gave a jerk of his head. Sebastian gagged against a press of teeth and then he felt it: the sickening pop of his jugular giving way. Blood spurted from the gaping wound-he saw it streak across the edge of his vision as if reaching for the crooked angels-and then Joseph's mouth sealed it up, hot and hungry. His tongue lapped up every wayward pulse and probed along the layers of sheared flesh.

This isn't real, Sebastian told himself, even as his strength fled. With every beat of his heart his aching limbs grew heavier, colder. The light flooding into the church grew dark and muddled. It can't be. He pushed ineffectively at Joseph's shoulder. "Jo..." When he tried to take a breath his chest seized up, and he couldn't get enough air. He sagged as his knees began to give out. "Joseph..."

Joseph growled, and he let go of Sebastian's wrist only so he could grab his belt again. With greater strength than he had ever possessed he forced Sebastian upright, thrusting him up against the wall with all of his body. Hip to hip and chest to chest he pinned his partner to the stone. The back of Sebastian's head struck hard and left him seeing white, and as Joseph resumed his suckling, clarity came over him.

He was dead. Even if Joseph stopped, cleaned him up, jabbed him with needles, he was bleeding out with every second and he was dead. His skin was already painfully tingling as if the teeth were all over him, and if not for Joseph's clenched support he knew he would be on the floor. Everything was spinning and throbbing and fading away. But then Joseph moaned, rumbling his neck with sounds of beastly pleasure, and it didn't matter so much.

It must have felt good, Sebastian imagined, to have finally given in, to eat and drink and feel nourished. To have heat flowing into an empty and eager belly. God, he was thirsty. He had to admit, he might have torn open a few throats himself if only Ruvik had promised him they bled whiskey.

Ruvik.

Sebastian stared blearily at the melting scenery of the church, and all of a sudden, everything sharpened back into focus. His body was still a wilting, dull carcass supported only by Joseph's arms and thighs, but his mind had never been clearer than when he saw Ruvik, tattered and burned, moving steadily toward them. The buzzing echoed through his ears as if from some great distance but it held meaning, then, more so than ever before. He understood the intent in Ruvik's narrowed eyes.

"Nn..." Sebastian managed to take a breath, but only blood came back out. No. He let the words resound throughout his skull, desperate for Ruvik to hear them. No, please don't.

Ruvik was only a few meters away. When his lip twitched, so did Joseph; a quiver ran the length of Joseph's spine, and his tongue slowed in its strokes to Sebastian's open veins. Sebastian choked on more useless words. Don't wake up, he begged. He curled his senseless fingers against the back of Joseph's neck and drew him closer-he tilted his head in welcome until Joseph was drinking again. It's too late-you don't need to see this. Don't wake up, please, oh God, don't wake up-

Everything was cold. Everything was black at the edges, and Ruvik was before him, lifting his scarred hand. Sebastian clutched his partner tight and squeezed his eyes shut like a child wishing away a nightmare. "Don't," he whispered brokenly in Joseph's ear. "Don't wake up. Dnn..." He heard skin against skin as Ruvik's fingers glided over the backs of his and then sank into Joseph's hair, gently petting. "Jo... please, God..."

The last thing he felt before slipping away was Joseph's sharp intake of breath close to his chin.

"You don't look well, Detective."

Sebastian bolted upright. The first breath he took tasted like copper, and his hand flew to his throat. There was nothing there. When he swallowed he could feel the gnawing teeth, the flicking tongue, but he found no wound. There wasn't even a scar. When his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see the familiar outline of a cell around him, and in the dimly-lit doorway, Tatiana was watching him with the same impassive stare she always had.

He sank back down onto the old spring mattress, rubbing his neck and trying to breathe.

Tatiana's heels clacked softly as she came into the room. "You must be having a difficult time out there," she said, though without any sympathy her words alone might have implied.

Sebastian gulped and needed a moment longer before he was able to speak. He tried to meet her eyes. "Did that really happen?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Joseph, he..." Sebastian licked his lips and tasted blood again. When he cautiously explored the rest of him, he found dried stains in his collar and bite marks on his thumb. The panic began to creep in.

Sebastian shoved himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing is eyes. "My partner," he said. "Joseph. He turned into one of those things." He stared up at Tatiana and couldn't bring himself to hope. "Is there a way to reverse it for good? Isn't there anything I can do for him?"

Tatiana considered him for a long moment, daring him toward optimism, but then she reached down, easing Sebastian's clasped hands apart. She pulled out of her apron's front pocket the pistol he had lost in the church, and she gave it to him. "You can show him mercy," she said. And she left.

And Sebastian sat there with the cold weight in his hands. And he was helpless.