Chapter 2: Will

It had been three years since Crowley died, four since he'd had to drag Halt out of a bar. If you asked Halt, he'd say he was overdue.

The bar was bustling, normal for a Friday night and the fierce wind drove in more patrons than normal.

One such patron wore a mottled green cloak and looked surprisingly young for the aged look in his eyes. He scanned the room, quickly spotting the man he was looking for hunched over at the counter.

Will moved carefully through the room and pulled up a seat next to him.

Halt was on his ninth drink. Beer, by the smell of it. He didn't react when Will sat down, but continued to stare straight ahead, as if the bottles on the shelf might hold the answer.

"Halt," Will said.

Halt turned to look at him and his eyebrow raised in disbelief. He stared at Will for a long moment before turning back to his drink, whatever little light he'd had in his eyes, now snuffed out.

"I thought you were-"

"I know."

Silence. Just the murmuring of patrons around them, laughter and chatter and the clinking of cutlery. Halt spoke.

"Why aren't I dead yet?" he said, voice choked slightly by emotion and drink. "I've done more than enough to deserve it," he continued. "It shoulda been me, not Crowley." He took another swig while Will figured out what to say. What can you say to that?

"Well, I'm glad you're alive," Will said quietly. Halt's lips twitched and his eyes grew wet.

"You shouldn't see me like this," he murmured. "I'm a mess."

"We're all a mess Halt. There's no shame in it."

"No shame in nine bottles of beer? 'Doubt it," he gruffed and downed the rest of his glass. He raised his hand to order another one, but Will gently guided it down before the bartender could see.

"Halt, let's go home."

"What home?" he asked, no, demanded. "Huh? My home is gone Will! Has been for three years! It's not as easy as it looks!" he cried.

Though the outburst was sudden, Will knew what he meant. It wasn't easy to keep your composure, to move on, to pretend you had when your heart was still grieving and everyone else had seemed to recover. Halt's eyes screamed in a silent cry for help, empathy, sympathy, something. Someone to confide and comfort him. And that job now fell to Will.

Feeling incredibly nervous and that this was in no way his place, Will grabbed his mentor's shoulders and gently guided him into a hug. Halt didn't resist, so Will allowed himself to relax slightly.

"I know it's hard Halt, I know. But you are not alone in this. You do have a home and it's with me and Alyss and Pauline. It's okay to miss Crowley; he was a part of your home. But you are not alone Halt.

"Take your time. We'll be here when you're ready."

Halt sniffled ever so quietly and it took Will a minute to realize that his mentor was crying. He felt tears sting his own eyes as he thought of everything his mentor had done for him. From rescuing him as a child to finding him in Skandia to helping him be the man he was today.

"It's okay," he murmured.

Halt eventually pulled back, rubbing his eyes not so discreetly. He'd take time to be embarrassed later, but for now…

"Let's… let's go home," he slurred.

Will watched Halt get up as he paid, ready to lend a hand if necessary and carefully led his mentor out of the establishment and into the chill fall air, reminding them to be grateful for their cloaks as they stumbled back to the castle. Pauline and Alyss were out on a joint courier mission, so it was up to Will to make sure Halt got into bed instead of staring listlessly into the fire until he fell over.

Before long, Halt was snoring away and Will quietly made a pot of coffee before sitting in an armchair and resting quietly, the only noises being his mentor's breathing and the howl of the wind outside. He ended up falling asleep in the chair and when he woke up, it was morning. Halt was gone and there was a fresh pot of coffee. When he saw him later that day, he gave him a brief clap on the shoulder, but didn't mention the previous night.

It was the least he could do.