Much of the plot of the tale Jack tells is directly derived from the canon Demon Hunter backstory. One line is lifted directly from this story and slightly altered. I'm still unhappy with the dialogue but haven't had the time to fix it, but I'll post it here anyway. xD


And the smoke lies on the valley floor,
And the blood dries while we spill some more.
Blood on the Valley Floor, Soundgarden


The door burst open at the witching hour, flooding the dark room with noise.

"Fire! Kill them! Kill them!"

Lyndon flailed and struggled to untangle himself from the blankets. He couldn't see, it was pitch black in the room now that the fire had burnt out. His hands found the familiar wooden handle of his crossbow before he was even fully awake. An arrow whistled by his head, ruffling his hair. There was a blossom of heat and wetness there, but he barely registered it. There were more of the light whooshing sounds of arrows flying and the tell tale thumps of them striking the wall with the tinkling of shattered glass. A sudden sound behind him made his blood crystallize and his spine tingle, it sounded like a beast had been hurt, a wretched howl. He couldn't look back if he wanted to, all his focus was involved in aiming at the shadowy shapes in the doorway. He had barely lifted and aimed the heavy weapon when Jack began to fire.

The single hand-crossbow jutted just past Lyndon's head and the scoundrel turned to look at him and froze as Jack's arm came down on his shoulder to steady his aim. The hunter snarled like an animal, teeth bared and eyes blazing like hot coals in the dark.

"Bleed you filth!" He spat viciously.

Lyndon paled, there was more than just a well of hatred for demonkind that emanated from the hunter this time, it was more than just a lust for battle. Jack looked like he had finally come unhinged. From the curve of his left deltoid protruded an arrow that had sunk deep into the muscle tissue and bled, black as ink. It was the Demon Hunter who had been struck. Dark shadows swelled and poured from his shoulder blades like the vaporous mist produced by dry ice when submerged in water. They spread like the wispy glowing tendrils of angel wings, but devoid of light and far more sinister. No longer did he even resemble the man Lyndon had grown to call friend, he looked like a demon from the deepest pits of Hell itself that had finally decided to cast off its flimsy mortal guise, revealing its true form, and dear Gods, is that what he'd been sleeping next to?

There were five men firing volleys of arrows at them from the doorway, desperate to kill them. Three were annihilated near instantaneously when Jack fired, humans had little to no physical defense against such powerfully enchanted arrows. The hallway wall where the men had stood was evenly coated in a spray of blood and bone fragments. At least fifty arrows had been imbedded in the wall behind where the unfortunate men had been standing, creating deep cracks and scorch marks of black magic among the wash of gore.

As Lyndon became less disoriented and more awake, he realized just what was going on. He recognized some of the same men he had seen downstairs in the tavern earlier that evening. The unsavory ones that had been watching him. Even though they were trying to kill them, the wild desperation in their shots told him that they were unskilled and were probably no better than farmers or local craftsmen.

And... and Jack was his friend. His friend that he'd teased not a week before for eating around the crust of his meager sandwich before eating the middle, and they'd traveled together for months and shared food and arrows every day and he couldn't just let him kill like this-

Fear made him hesitate, but he reached out anyway, "Stop, stop, Jack, they're just villagers! We can't!" At his touch, the Demon Hunter's arm seized as though it were part of some great failing machine, a wrench thrown into the works, and the Hunter was drawn back from the depths of his hatred, shuddering from the sudden transition from rage-haze to self awareness. The arrows stopped, but the shadows remained and Jack blinked his candle eyes rapidly in the gloom.

Lyndon stared at him stupidly before he remembered and aimed his crossbow at the doorway again. The only reason the two remaining men were still alive was because they had hastily dropped to the floor to avoid becoming human quivers. Jack had been so busy destroying the first three that he simply didn't notice them. In all the confusion, Lyndon never even got a chance to loose even a single arrow.

When Jack had stopped firing the two survivors scrambled to drop their weapons and hold up their hands in surrender.

"P-please don't shoot! Oh please!" A rather mousy looking man said, looking horrified at the carnage. A farmer then, or maybe a baker, or a candlestick maker, Lyndon thought madly.

"David said your kind were m-murderers! "L-look what you've done!" The other man said, knees shaking, even as he pointed an accusing finger.

"Look what we've done?!" Lyndon balked, suddenly beyond furious, "What about what you've done you stupid git?! We were sleeping when you kicked in the damned door and attacked us!" Lyndon shouted back, crossbow tight in his grip, his fingers straining toward the release mechanism. "We've done nothing!"

Jack breathed out, crossbow slipping from nerveless fingers and he brought a hand up to his bleeding shoulder, dragged air through his teeth, then took several hard breaths through his nose. "Gods, we should have just slept in a field." He murmured. He closed his eyes and opened them again, fixing his burning gaze upon the men. "Why did you attack us?" He grit out tiredly. Lyndon felt that they both already knew the answer to that.

"D-David said that...you were Demon hunters and that you w-were going to slaughter the town!" The mousy man tentatively tried to explain without wetting himself. It seemed he only half succeeded.

"This David you keep mentioning? He sounds like a right idiot to me." Lyndon said quickly, aim unwavering. "As you can see the town still stands."

"He's dead now." The other dark haired man half whispered, staring at the blood pooling on the floor.

"My point precisely, if you think someone is a Demon Hunter, it's probably best to not attack them and their traveling companion. Demon hunters hunt demons, not townsfolk you damned fool."

"But-"

"He's the one who saved Tristram from King Leoric. Perhaps you've heard of him? Big bloke, few cards short of a full deck, commanded the undead skeleton army of Khanduras?!" Lyndon hissed. Some people could be so damned ungrateful. "It was a demon hunter named Jack who saved that town, THIS Demon Hunter, and if it wasn't for THIS Demon Hunter your charming little town very probably, would not still exist."

"Lyndon-" Jack tried to interrupt. The hunter never bragged, but some situations benefited from the revelation of truths. Lyndon considered the fact that Jack had, among other things, near single handedly saved their world and the High Heavens from absolute destruction, but it was probably best to keep those stories to themselves. It was better, he thought, that most common folk were not made aware of how close they had come to being wiped off the world.

"You killed the skeleton king?" The braver man asked Jack, his voice tight with awed disbelief.

The hunter nodded slightly. Lyndon was a little upset that Jack was not backing him up, but something was clearly wrong with him. Well, something aside from the arrow sticking out of his arm.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry my Lord!" The mousy looking man stuttered, "Aye!" The other shouted quickly. "We didn't know! You're a hero in these parts!" The two men practically fell on their faces in their haste to grovel and bow before them. "We're sorry!"

Jack turned away and closed his eyes in pained disgust at the sight. "I am neither a Lord nor a hero, please leave us in peace, we are leaving on the morrow and will trouble your town no longer." Jack said quietly. "If you're going to be sorry, be sorry for the men who died tonight because of a... misunderstanding." He finished, lip curling in distaste.

Is it so wrong to think of yourself as a hero? Lyndon thought. The scoundrel could think of none better to fit the definition.

The two men got to their feet and left hastily, apologetic and shaking. There were no bodies to remove but there was a rather wretched mess left to clean up, and though it was a nasty thought, Lyndon was very grateful that most of the gore was in the hallway so that they could at least go back to sleep in a relatively corpse free room. Jack was not speaking to him and looked rather upset. Lyndon was alright with this for the time being and left him to tend to his shoulder, still a little shaken by his ferocity.

Just another day as an adventurer! What fun, he thought sarcastically.

He waited until the men were gone before he jumped up to shut the door. He poked his head out curiously and spotted the Innkeeper standing white faced at the end of the now candle-lit hallway. Lyndon offered him a wave and a weak grin, "Sorry!" he said quickly and pulled the broken door shut. Thinking quickly, he shoved their small dining table against the door to hold it closed as the lock and indeed part of the frame had been smashed to splinters in the initial kick of forced entry. He then shoved the fireplace wing chair there too for good measure. Sodding bastards wouldn't be coming back in, he'd make certain of that. The candles above the fireplace were lit with only a little difficulty, his hands shaky with nerves, and then he could see much better.

He groaned slightly as the candles illuminated the room, the place was a mess. There were arrows stuck everywhere! "Damn it to Hell!" he hissed, there were arrows in their clothes! Much of the hanging fabric was torn, they'd have to buy a few new things, or do some heavy duty repairs. He was terrible at sewing and often asked Eirena (who did it gladly) or Jack (which required a lot of begging and damage to the hunter's own clothes before it was even considered) to do it for him. He absently touched Jack's black cloak to pull a hanging arrow free, then yelped when a small bat flew out of a hidden pocket and hid itself in the window curtain. He gripped his chest, heart racing, an "I don't even want to know." leaving his mouth breathlessly as he shook his head. Of course he would have a bat now. Ravens and bats, weasels! He'd even had a spider briefly, adopted from the Caves of Aranaea, but after he had learned of Kormac's fear of them he had (reluctantly) let it go. Lyndon had not seen the two furry weasel things he had purchased in Lut Gholein for some time, he hoped they had not made a nest in his bag again. He was genuinely surprised the man didn't have fleas with all the beasts he kept around.

Lyndon felt a cold draft, the glass in three window panes was shattered, letting in frigid air. He stuffed a damp shirt in the hole to keep out the cold and- Jack had not moved and his entire arm was red with blood. Lyndon cursed under his breath and went to him.

Jack was staring at the blood congealing on the floor, off in his own head somewhere. Lyndon stared, beyond concerned for him. Damn it, he didn't know what to do in situations like this! At the very least Jack should have known better than to let that arrow stay there! It could be poisoned or rusty, or coated in any number of foul substances. Stupid stubborn bastard!

"What is the matter with you!?" Lyndon very nearly shouted at him, "Did you forget the bloody arrow in your- Gods... you're shaking!" Small tremors shook the hunter every few moments, everything about it screamed wrong. Jack didn't respond and sat there on the bed, tense and still. Black smoke still spilled from his shoulders and Lyndon recognized it as a reaction to pain. His eyes were bright and burning in his head. Was it shock? Blood loss? No, no... he'd seen him refuse to succumb with far worse injuries.

But he could not shake the sensation of wrongness about the whole thing. Something was not right here.

Lyndon slowly sat down on the bed, unsure of what to do. Acting with little thought, He reached for his shoulders, almost afraid to touch him because of the dark shadows spilling forth. His hands came down as gently as he could make them. The shadows didn't hurt like he thought they might, but instead felt terribly cold, like the frozen wind that feathered through the walls of Bastion's Keep.

Jack jumped when he touched him, causing Lyndon to jump as well. "H-here, its alright, what is the matter?" Lyndon asked quietly. "Doesn't this hurt?" His hand strayed toward the arrow.

"Get it out." Jack whispered, as though suddenly becoming aware of the arrow embedded in him.

"What? Oh... alright, just- a moment..." Lyndon murmured. At the angle it had pierced, it was difficult for Jack to reach the arrow successfully by himself, but at the very least he could ask a little more politely. Lyndon wrapped his hand around the thick shaft of wood, bracing his other hand on the man's skin. The muscles were hard as wrought iron from use of the bow and taught with pain. And Lyndon was wondering how to get this out without making it worse. He was no healer and by Akarat it was in there deep, it might even have been touching bone.

"Fast." Jack breathed.

"Don't be a damned fool!" Lyndon snapped at him. Gods, did he want it to hurt? Jack stared holes in the floor and Lyndon grit his teeth, pulling experimentally. The hunter made not a sound. It was in there deep all right, he had to pull it out carefully or it would only tear the muscle more, Jack's ridiculous impatience be damned.

The wood was slippery, slick with blood and it took him a few minutes to get the arrow out. He did the best he could and throughout the process Jack said nothing, didn't react, there was not even a gasp of pain, but he had briefly closed his eyes before opening them again when Lyndon finally managed to pull the damned thing free of him. It was good that the tip was not barbed or he would have had to slice it out with a blade.

More blood welled up alarmingly and poured out of the wound, the sharp odor of it like new coppers, filling his nostrils and curling in the back of his throat. Exasperated with Jack's sudden lack of interest in his own well being, Lyndon grabbed the man's other arm and forced his hand over the bleeding hole while he looked for something to wrap it with.

He angrily pawed through their bags and found some strips of cloth they reserved for bandages, just in case. He grabbed the lot and the pitcher of water on the bedside table.

Furious, Lyndon rounded on Jack for the second time, grabbing his injured arm perhaps a little more roughly then he meant to. "Do you want to bleed out all over the place?! Don't you care about yourself?!" Lyndon asked angrily. Jack still did not answer him, and merely let the thief do whatever he wanted. Furious, Lyndon held the man's arm out over the floor to avoid messing the bed and poured water over it, rinsing the blood away. Not like a little extra blood in the boards would matter right? They were already painted. He soaked some fabric in water and washed the wound quickly before binding it firmly. He hoped it was enough, because this was the extent of his healing knowledge. One good reason to miss that idiot Templar he supposed.

"Why won't you say anything?" Lyndon finally asked, at a loss, frustration and worry swirling thick inside him.

"You're afraid of me." The hunter stated quietly. Lyndon blinked hard, he had been afraid, but it had only been for a moment.

"No. I'm afraid for you." The thief retorted.

Jack looked away and at the bloodied floor.

"Jacky, what is it?" Lyndon pleaded quietly.

Jack blinked slowly at the use of his least favorite nickname. "I've become her." The hunter finally murmured.

"You've- What?" Lyndon said, terribly confused.

"The Demon Hunter who murdered this town a year ago, I-I've become her." He was still trembling every few moments and Lyndon finally reached out to him, placing a careful hand upon his uninjured shoulder. To steady him, he told himself. The hunter tensed, but didn't try to shrug him off, which was concerning in and of itself.

"Jack, what are you talking about? Who murdered the town?" Lyndon asked quietly.

Jack closed his glowing eyes for a moment, appearing to gather himself. He swallowed, blinking rapidly.

"Before I came to Tristram, I was the best recruit the Demon Hunters had ever seen." Lyndon noted that he said this with no trace of pride, it was stated as merely a fact. "As part of my "graduation" test. I was given a mission to kill a demon, Draxiel, residing in some ruins located in the southern Dreadlands. My partner and guide was a more experienced hunter named Valla." Jack explained quietly. He had never spoken of his life before coming to Tristram, though he had asked Lyndon many times about his and the lives of their friends. Lyndon eagerly digested this new information.

"She was another favorite among our ranks. She and I... didn't get along. She was abrasive and tended to act rashly. Even though our training was not a competition, she hated me for being the best at the techniques we were taught." He continued. Lyndon listened with rapt attention, wondering where this was going.

"When we were in the ruins... I... succumbed to the demon's influence and attempted to attack her." He murmured with some shame. "What I didn't know at that time, was that the demon had tricked me and had taken her form. I was nearly killed but I was saved by my mentor Josen and the real Valla." Jack said, shuddering at the memory.

"The whole thing had been a test, set up by Josen and I had failed." He growled with some hint of lingering anger, "After that, I began to study with Josen personally to overcome my weaknesses. He said... that I was a special case among them, and he wanted to help me. It wasn't long after that, that we heard that Valla had succumbed to her hatred and the influence of a foul demon."

"After, we learned of Valla's corruption. I was forbidden to interfere because Josen told me I was not ready, but I insisted and accompanied him anyway." Jack continued. Lyndon smiled. It was very much like him to ignore the advice of others. "We saw what she had done to Holbrook. Just being here... all I can see are the dead."

Lyndon swallowed, feeling his gut twist. Why hadn't Jack said something? Lyndon wouldn't have made him stop here if he had only known.

"Josen went to Bramwell, expecting to find her there. I was sent to Havenwood where she was rumored to have passed through. When I got there, children were possessed by some demon and were murdering their own families, and after, the townsfolk." Lyndon grimaced, imagining the horror of that sight. His fingers trailed down the hunter's arm and came to rest at his elbow.

"I had to subdue them, but I managed to not have to kill any." The hunter explained.

"That's why that man said "Remember Havenwood?" Lyndon interrupted suddenly, "But what happened after?"

"I learned that there was a river that ran beneath the town through a network of caves, I guessed that this was likely where the demon responsible for Valla's corruption was hiding. She had fallen so far, that her very presence spread evil." Jack said. "The demon had finished with her apparently and had turned his sights on the town, while she moved on to Bramwell to slaughter all she came across. I left to find the demon, not waiting for my mentor. I nearly drowned trying to enter the underground channel." Jack uttered, twisting his fingers into the blanket in his lap at the memory.

"It-" He began again, breath deepening and coming a little faster.

"It... used the memories I had against me, of my village being slaughtered, burning, my mother, my family... everything I had lost." Jack grit out, rage and pain emanating from him.

Lyndon was silent and listening with an acuteness as if Jack were telling him where to dig up a mountain of gold. The scoundrel had always burned with curiosity to know more. He wasn't sure what he expected but he knew it couldn't be good based on Jack's personality, but even still, he wasn't expecting this... horror.

The sad circumstances of his own life paled in comparison.

"It almost... took me, but I looked back into its mind. The most dangerous thing a Demon Hunter can do." He hissed. "I learned that he was really Valdraxxis, once an important demon in Hell, but led a failed campaign and was cast out to our realm." Jack growled, "I looked into him and saw, as he had done to me and only then was I able to strike him down." Jack had stopped shaking now, but still seemed distraught. Lyndon was in awe, he had seen the man's incredible fighting abilities, but had only seen fleeting glimpses of the powers gifted to him by his Nephalem ancestry, and when he witnessed them, they were frightening. He had no idea that the Demon Hunters had developed such a dangerous ability. But if anyone could master such a dangerous skill, it would be Jack.

"Then you won then, didn't you? You saved Havenwood and its people and they were grateful to you were they not?" Lyndon asked quietly.

"Yes, but I was not there soon enough to save them from the pain of murdered families. I think... that it was my fault that Valla fell to corruption." Jack murmured.

"What!? How could that possibly be your fault?" Lyndon exclaimed, confused by the hunter's willingness to take the blame for so much death.

"I think... the reason she left us, the reason she had so much hate, was because I was chosen over her to study with Josen. She had wanted it so badly, had even succeeded in the test where I had failed, but I was chosen anyway. She was angry and her anger made her vulnerable. Hate begets terror and terror begets destruction as destruction begets hate." Jack recited cryptically. "Every demon hunter is taught this, the law of The Three. The Prime evil."

"I did not notice her hate, so wrapped up as I was in my own failings and angers." The hunter continued. "I did not see that she had succumbed, I did not look into her and because of this I did not save this town, or Bramwell, or prevent the tragedies in Havenwood, and those that remained to rebuild, look upon me and all Demon Hunters with fear and hatred." Jack finished darkly. He pulled his arm away from Lyndon and cradled his wounded shoulder as if it had only just then begun to hurt.

"You've told us before not to grieve over what you could not know or control. 'What's done is done,' you've said! Why are you no longer following your own advice?!" Lyndon asked anxiously.

"I can't escape this, this war will never end for me." Jack responded, as if he hadn't heard him.

"Don't be absurd, you stopped the war, you saved the whole world! I know, because I was there, remember?" Lyndon stated, frustrated by the pain that made Jack unable to see reason. There was something else he was holding back.

"Don't you understand? It doesn't matter what I've done, kill demon lords, save villages, worlds. None of that matters to them, they will always look at me as if I am a monster. Demon Hunters are seen as an omen of death. I must get used to this. I can have no attachments." Jack said with quiet pain.

"Jack you're not-" Lyndon interjected.

"I am. I know that now. How can I continue to help anyone if I am... cursed with this taint? This... demonic blood of my ancestors? I am no better than they are, I could lose control. With every demon I come into contact with, the risk increases. You saw, you saw what I did!" Jack hissed and held his firing arm against his chest tightly as if it had betrayed him.

"You are the best person I know, the finest warrior to walk this miserable ball of dirt and more noble than I can tolerate. It does not matter what they think! Ignorant, blind villagers! You will never go down that path, you're much too good for that. It-It wasn't your fault, they attacked us and we reacted. There was nothing different to be done! Sometimes there is no choice." He argued anxiously.

"Why do you care so much? About what people think?" Lyndon pressed.

"Not people. Kormac... Eirena. You." Jack murmured. Lyndon blinked in disbelief.

Oh...

"It is said that when a demon peers into you, Lyndon, into the deepest recesses of your mind, then you may peer back if you know how. And then you will see only vengeance. Only the hunt. And your eyes will burn with its obsession. I have done this, more than once. I did it with every demon lord I slew." Jack revealed.

Lyndon did not respond, he knew how Jack's eyes burned.

"I didn't even think before I shot them." Jack murmured with quiet despair. "I'm losing myself." He brought his hands up to his face and buried them in his hair.

"Stop it now, you were asleep! I barely knew what was going on because I'd just woken up as well! I could have died you know, an arrow went right by my head. You basically saved my life... again." Lyndon said gently, resting a hand on the man's back. He had to do something to calm him. Jack seemed like he might be going round the bend.

"Yes, you're bleeding." Jack said quietly. Lyndon raised a hand to the side of his head where he felt the arrow fly by. His fingers came away bloody and he wiped at the cut with the wet cloth he had left in his lap.

"It's fine, it doesn't even hurt." He said absently.

"What if it had been different Lyndon, and it was you who had thrown open the door and startled me awake? You'd be dead now because of my carelessness." Jack whispered, barely audible.

"I think you're forgetting how I usually enter a room." Lyndon chided, attempting to be humorous. "Normally I don't kick the door in and fire an arrow into your arm!" He said with a weak laugh. Jack did not smile.

"I became too comfortable and it made me weak. I shouldn't have drunk anything... I shouldn't have eaten so much. Distractions like that, they take away control!"

"What? By sleeping? Eating? Having a little wine? Jack that's simply absurd... it's unfortunate that those men died, but we both attacked in self defense. You can't just give up every little thing on just the chance that something could happen! You have to live your gods-damned life! We've killed people, innocents have died, yes, but you've... you've never been like this before!" Lyndon fretted.

"What are you not telling me?" Lyndon asked with quiet desperation.

Jack looked away then, jaw clenched tight.

"Please tell me, I can't help if I don't know the situation." Lyndon begged, unknowingly repeating the very same words Jack had said to him when he'd been reluctant to talk about his brother.

"The demon... under Havenwood." The hunter began hesitantly, as if attempting to speak in a poorly learned foreign language. "It took the form of my sister." Jack finally ground out.

"Y-your...sister? Lyndon replied, barely more than a whisper. He immediately felt his gut twist with guilt for having asked him about sisters, lovers or female companions so many times. Gods what an ass he'd been.

"My younger sister and I, we had escaped from the burning of our village when the demons came, we ran deep into the woods, I remember holding her hand so tightly as we ran." Jack breathed, beginning to tremble again. "I was 14 summers then, she was 8. We lived out in the wilderness for weeks, living off the land, we had nowhere else to go, but it was hard for her. It was hard for both of us but it was harder for her, she was so young." Jack whispered, breathing too shallowly.

So were you, Lyndon thought wretchedly.

"It's alright, breathe." Lyndon said, feeling himself panicking in his lack of direction for how to act. He was struggling to figure out how to help this man, a person he was beginning to realize he barely knew, even after spending months with him. He grasped the hunter's hand tightly, offering him a physical anchor.

Jack sucked in a breath. "We both had nightmares, we saw our family murdered over and over again in our dreams, But one night, she could not take it any longer, she ran out into a storm and... I chased after her, trying to get her to come back." Jack whispered, agonizing over the tale. "She thought I was a demon and wouldn't stop, she slipped and fell at the edge of a rushing river and I grabbed her hand. I said I wouldn't let go but it was raining so much and our hands were wet." Jack's voice cracked and he turned away from Lyndon.

Lyndon held his hand tightly, almost bruisingly strong, he loosened his hold when he realized what he was doing.

"My fingers were so cold I couldn't tighten my grip. She slipped away from me. Then I had tricked myself into believing that she was alive and living somewhere else, somewhere safe. This is what the demon saw within me, this memory I had repressed. This is what Valdraxxis used to nearly destroy me." Jack said, Lyndon sat in stunned silence, staring at the hunter with shock written clearly on his face. "That town. The river below. All I can think of is her."

"Then Leah. Gods, how I failed her." Jack said brokenly. "She reminded me so much of my sister, her spirit, her smile. I didn't see what her mother was until it was far too late. I should have looked into her, but like a fool I trusted her... and now Leah is gone."

"None of us knew who she really was. You could not have known such a thing, she had been planning this for years." Lyndon offered quietly.

"Couldn't I have? Zultan Kulle tried to warn me, but I ignored him as well. Sometimes I wonder if killing him had even been right." Jack said miserably.

"Well, he may have been right about Adria, but he was a dusty, dried up old wizard who wanted nothing more than the world beneath his boot heel. What would he have done if left alone hm? Been the next threat? I think you were right to kill him." The thief argued.

"Perhaps." Jack conceded."But I can't help feeling it was Adria's design that he was killed. Leah was so like my sister, and I failed them both." He whispered. "Any Inn we stay at it, is just a reminder of the dream she'll never get to fulfill."

"It's no one's fault but Adria's. She'll pay for what she's done." Lyndon replied quickly, then they both went quiet for a time.

Jack had been bottling this up for a long while. His mind was rotting with his perceived failures. This was eating at him worse than anything ever had and he was close to his breaking point. Jack hid it well, but he was very damaged. His mental state was deteriorating as his powers grew stronger and stronger. Not a very good combination at all. He was living to kill Adria and get revenge for Leah and beyond that he saw little else. Jack needed to keep killing creatures of Hell to atone for things he thought were his fault. He needed to do this to keep his very sanity. If he stopped, if the battles ever ended, he'd fall apart, go mad or both. He looked more and more terrifying every time he fought, more demonic and vicious. Gods, he'd be sprouting horns and wings next.

Jack needed a break, he needed to not think for a while and calm his mind. Lyndon was trying his best, but he wasn't sure how to help him.

"I cannot... allow myself to care for anyone, lest they be taken from me and used as a weapon against my mind by the demons. I don't know if I can survive that again. I don't know if I am strong enough." Jack's voice broke and he pressed the heels of his palms hard against his eyes and trembled.

"Jack." Lyndon murmured, stroking lightly at his shoulders, unsure of what else to do. Jack let him, which went a long way with helping Lyndon feel better, even if Jack was still pained. How long had it been since someone had offered him a comforting touch? How long since he had last allowed himself to be comforted? Years?

The hunter did not cry, Lyndon wasn't sure if he even could anymore, he only breathed in and out purposefully. When he finally put his hands down, his eyes were damp but they weren't glowing any longer. He looked as tired as he did the day Diablo was defeated.

"H-Halissa... her n-name was Halissa. It was m-my fault, if only I'd-" Jack began again, his voice trembling.

"Shhhh, enough. It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault." Lyndon said softly, continuing the light touch. He wasn't good at this sort of thing, he didn't know how to comfort people. Lyndon tried to go with his gut and do what felt right, what felt like helping.

They sat there for some time, Lyndon trying to be a comforting presence while Jack struggled to hold himself together.

"Um, Jack..." Lyndon began, wondering if this was what he should be saying. "You- you can't go your whole life avoiding people, not getting attached. It's a lonely existence, believe me I know." Lyndon explained gently. "What about Eirena and Kormac? They're your friends aren't they? Haedrig and Shen... And you and I? You asked me to come with you after Diablo and the Prime or whatnot was killed. You taught me about weapon enchantment, tolerated my chatter, trusted me enough to tell me all this. Why? If you wanted to be alone so badly?" Lyndon asked hesitantly, afraid to upset the hunter even more.

"Because I am weak." Jack admitted quietly, still as stone.

"Its not weak. Its human, Jack." Lyndon argued. "Its human nature to want to be with other people, not a weakness to be pushed away."

"I'm not human." Jack growled, pulling away from the scoundrel. "I'm practically a demon. People that spend time with me tend to get killed." Jack said bitterly.

"You forget that Tyrael said that Nephalem are born of both angels and demons, that's why you have both good and evil, why humans have both good and evil." Lyndon argued. "You're as human as I, though a decidedly more talented one. And besides, I'm still here, you haven't let me die yet!" He laughed weakly.

"I thinks its clear which ancestor I take after more." Jack replied tiredly, getting worn down from their talk. "If I lose control, you could die. A lot of people could die." Jack stated.

"I don't want you to die." He admitted. The quiet fear in his voice took Lyndon by surprise. "Sometimes when I'm killing them, I feel like I'm going insane." The hunter confessed. "I feel like I can't control what I'm doing."

"You said that your eyes burn because the demon's make you live for vengeance, but if you can live for something... other than that hate, don't you think that you'll have control again? Don't you think living for something else will make you stronger? If you drown yourself in one thing, there's no balance. No discipline as you're so fond of saying. You don't have to keep going this. Let us be friends to you." The scoundrel offered. "We can help you, I just know it."

Jack looked at him silently, surprise on his tired face.

"I know I don't appear to be very serious at times. Well, most of the time." Lyndon began, "When the woman I loved went to my brother instead, I knew that it wasn't his fault, but I refused to let anyone else in after that. I pushed him away, even though he was my brother, my only family." Lyndon admitted. This seemed like the right thing to say, it might help Jack realize that he was serious about wanting to help him.

"I didn't know what to feel about what had happened to him. If I hadn't been so careless... I became selfish after, I closed myself off, stopped caring. I used people so they wouldn't use me first. I mean... I was always a little on the bad side, but for a long time I thought I was rotten to the core." Lyndon said, wiping at the cut on his head again.

"I thought that helping you slay the demon lords would make me a good person again, but you told me that I was a good person already. I thought you were just trying to make me feel better in case I didn't make it, but...I realized you were right, and I had just buried it so deeply I couldn't see it. Didn't want to see it. It was easier to pretend I didn't care." Lyndon whispered.

"I realized... that its alright to feel something and let other people help. It made me feel better...when you asked me about my brother and my life. I know I was angry at first... but I felt better after I told you." He finished quietly. "It's alright to give a damn."

Jack just stared at him in quiet disbelief, blanket pooled around his legs. He blinked softly and glanced down, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a weak smirk. "Sometimes you still surprise me Lyndon." He murmured softly.

"Well, you can be a bit thick sometimes." Lyndon laughed, relieved, it felt good to laugh. He looked at the tired hunter warmly, taking in his features. He still looked like a bit of a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them, face pale and a bit bloodied. But Jack was smiling slightly, a rather fetching expression on him. He should smile more often. He was looking much better, and dare he say, more together than he had all night.

"I'm surprised you can tolerate me, you and Kormac, Eirena, Haedrig... Shen. You should hate and fear me, what I could become." Jack admitted worriedly.

"Don't say such nonsense, they say so many nice things about you when you're not around, its enough to make me sick." Lyndon laughed. "I like you very much. And besides, there are worse people around, a thieving rat like me for instance, Haha! I should be asking how you lot can tolerate me!"

The hunter looked away uncertainly and squeezed his injured arm, looking a bit pale. The smile was gone now.

Lyndon gazed at him, wondering why Jack thought himself so worthless and unworthy of love. He was a good person. Very noble. Not bad looking either, strong, loved animals and was mysterious or some such drivel. Traits that would have women falling over themselves to get at him, if only he would allow it. Lyndon could only claim charm and good looks. If only he could show the Demon Hunter how valuable he was, show him that he could be more than just a living weapon. He could have a life beyond this endless fighting and experience all the joys that came with the mortal world. Lyndon theorized that Jack hadn't really lived since he was 14 all those years ago, his chance at happiness having been cruelly ripped away from him.

That was a long time to be alone. Perhaps if Lyndon-

He had a sudden though. A mad thought.

He decided to do something then that might have been a little stupid.

"How's this for a surprise?" Lyndon rumbled, then leaned in and gently captured the Demon Hunter's mouth with his own.

Well, maybe a lot stupid.