"They found the Marked One," Bálor whispered into Finn's mind. "I felt the darkness above move to ease the pain of one of our own. I have only known one other who could do that, but he did not have as much power as I felt. And," he said in quiet resignation after a moment's silence, "he is no longer here anymore anyway. You must choose now what your course of action will be. The darkness will not allow for such a reckless ruler much longer. WE could have all of this," the demon hissed softly, "WE could choose who lives and dies. Not that crazed woman who stole from us. You know you want to be whole again, as to I. We deserve to be whole. They do not deserve our allegiance. They do not deserve us."
Finn cocked his head to one side, blue eyes contemplative as he considered the demon's words. He knew he didn't want to continue the way things were going, constantly cleaning up his mother's messes and listening to her shrill, ridiculous demands. She had no plan, not for the future of the underbelly, not for the coming war and beyond. She merely went with her current mood, one that often did not coincide with the best outlook for Finn's precious demons.
He watched the low-level demons fighting below, training for the coming war. He knew he should be more involved in their training, but it rubbed them both the wrong way to acquiesce with his mother's demands. Sighing, he brought his fingers up to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Soon, Bálor, I will answer you soon. We do not even know where it is, though. I have looked everywhere. I have subtly questioned everyone at all levels." Balling his hand into a fist he brought it down on the ledge of the overlook. "Yes, damnit, I want to be whole again. We do deserve it." He paused his train of thought, considering his father. "The old man might get in the way."
"We can handle him…"
XXXXXXXXXX
Erin kept her hand outstretched, willing Dean to relax enough for her to touch him. She knew it was a long shot, but often long shots were worth it. Clearing her mind of all the days' confusion, she slowly moved in to touch his snout. Just a small touch was all that was necessary, if this worked that was.
Dean kept his form rigid under her stare but slowly moved his head closer to her hand. She gently brushed over the rough fur…
The noise of the battle was overpowering. Screams of pain and the clashing of metal filled his mind as he fought through the mess. On every side of him there were men falling from arrows and swords. Rider-less horses ran by in terror as he surveyed the battlefield, searching for his brothers. He knew they were supposed to take out the king, to make it look as gruesome as possible so that the other side could claim the throne and the victory. This was what they did, fought for the money, not the side. Panic started to set into his chest. Where were they? They were supposed to stay together. He was the one who needed to keep them safe during the fray, to protect them, but he had lost track of Seth and Roman during the fighting.
Looking side to side, he quickly raised his sword to deflect an attack. Fuckers, just stay down when I put you down, he thought. He brought his sword back and shoved it in the attacker's gut with a grunt. Twisting his wrist slightly, he pulled his sword up to where he knew the body would never heal. Removing his weapon, he stepped hastily over the twitching body of his latest victim and progressed through the battle to the front. That would be where Seth went. Fucking Rollins always needing to be the center of goddamned attention. And Roman would be near, keeping their little brother safe. He knew that.
Surveying over the sea of blood and death, he noticed his older brother's large form. Long black hair flowed down his back from under his silver helmet. His chain mail was covered in the blood of the day and he moved rapidly to follow another smaller form. Seth. He was there, at the front, running for the king. Stupid fucking idiot. They were better as three, not one going off alone to fight. Seth didn't need to prove himself in the eyes of the world. He needed to stick with his brothers where it was safe.
Running swiftly, he tried to catch up to the two. The stench blood filled his nostrils as he jumped over body after dead body. Swinging every so often to avoid an attack, he made it to his brothers' side… almost in time. He did make it just in time, however, to see Roman take an arrow to the neck. The bronzed man howled in pain as it pierced through his skin. Blood flowed from around the wound and he dropped face down in the battlefield. Anguish filled his mind as he watched his brother fall. No! This was not how it was supposed to happen! Seth turned, hearing Roman cry out, and a look of utter devastation crossed his face. He abandoned his goal of killing the king and ran over to Roman's side. Just then another warrior came over to take advantage of Seth's distraction.
His battle hoarse voice yelled out a warning…Seth! On your left! Rollins! But it was too late. The sword came crashing down on the back of Seth's neck, hitting its mark with force. Blood sprayed across Roman's prostrate form. Something inside him died watching his brothers fall on the field. Something he knew he felt, but never said. He couldn't lose them. Tears burned at the back of his eyes as he made his way in a daze to where their bodies lay. Warriors came at him from either side, but he dodged them easily and continued his mission. This wasn't supposed to go down this way. They were the rulers of their battle yard, fighters, warriors. They weren't supposed to be brought down in front of his eyes where he could do nothing to help.
He finally made it to his brothers' side. Neither of them moved to acknowledge his presence. He knew they were leaving him. He knew he would be alone forever now. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted his brothers back. He wanted to fight by their side again. Three against the world. He wanted… oh how he wanted. He would give anything in his power to get them back. Kneeling reverently, he removed his mail glove and touched Seth's bloodied cheek. Reaching down to where Roman lay, lifeless, he grasped the arrow and gave a sharp tug. If they were going to die before his very eyes, they wouldn't die with anything marring their bodies. The sharp tip of the arrow nicked his thumb where he gripped it hard. Looking down where his blood still flowed out of his body, proof of his still beating heart in contrast to their unmoving figures, he finally allowed the crush of feelings to overwhelm him.
The battle around him long forgotten, he leaned his hand over to brush the wound on Roman's throat and where the sword had cut the back of Seth's neck. In his mind he wished, he promised, he pleaded for anyone above or below to hear his cries of pain. To hear him in his time of need. He would do anything, debase himself to any level to bring back his brothers. To make sure he wasn't left alone in this empty world without them. His thumb brushed the wound at the back of Seth's neck, and again he pleaded to anyone who would listen. He would serve the very mistress of hell herself if it would bring them back together again.
A tingling sensation filled his body, starting where his thumb was cut. A black swirl encompassed his hand and moved up his arm. Terror filled his mind as he watched the tendrils of dark smoke engulf his body and that of his dearest friends. He closed his eyes, afraid of what was happening. He didn't want to know, he just wanted to die. A sharp cackle filled his ears and he snapped his head up and opened his eyes. There she sat, in all her evil glory… she eyed him with interest. A click sounded to his left, then his right. Soon, he felt a collar wind itself around his neck and close with another click. Finally, she spoke. 'Granted'.
Erin pulled her hand back with a gasp and clutched at her heaving breast. The poor man! He had done everything he could to get to his friends, but there was no hope. So that was why they were here. She understood his reluctance to speak about the problem. She realized the shame that he must feel for the predicament that he and his brothers found themselves in. It was, after all, sort of his doing. Ok, more than 'sort of'. She looked over to the other two, but they remained silent, watching her every move with keen interest.
The three hounds of hell, Erin thought. Silent in her safe little home. They were in the servitude to the mistress of hell and needed Erin's help to get released. She understood. She understood it all. She didn't know why, but it made so much sense to her that they came. Her mind reeled at the sheer implication of it all. How was she supposed to help them break a spell, or a contract, or a broken man's wish on the battlefield?
Taking in a shaky breath, she finally spoke into their minds. "I'm so sorry for you. For all of you."
Dean cocked his head to the side. He hadn't even said anything to her yet. How was she sorry? He snuffed out a hot breath, "What are you sorry for?"
"They would have stayed dead, Dean. You did everything in your power to get to them, don't you see that? There is nothing that you could have done. Even all the magics of heaven and hell cannot change what is supposed to be." She patted Dean's head again, attempting to console the hound before her. Looking over at Roman and Seth she said quietly, "He loves you very much. I can see that. I can feel that."
Seth snorted in disbelief then grumbled, "Fucker just didn't want to deal with fallout from the fact we didn't finish the job."
"How did you know that?" Dean asked her in confusion, not too happy that she had just revealed deep emotions to his brothers in battle. Although, he considered, they probably had figured out that he cared deeply for them if he had gotten them into this mess in the first place just to get to see their ugly faces every fucking day.
"Sometimes when I touch people," Erin replied, her voice lilting through his head, "I can see what they see, or have seen. I can look through their eyes and understand what is, what was or what is to come. I find that touching the person helps me with my vision. I don't always fathom what I see in a vision. Some of them are confusing, but I saw the battle. I saw you all there. I saw the loss, the horror. I saw it all."
"It was one of our bloodier ones," Seth snarked.
Erin chuckled softly in the quiet room. "Yes, I'm sure it was. You fought valiantly Mr. Rollins. Mayhap a little too valiantly for your own good."
Seth shot Dean a dirty look. "Brother… just what did you show her?"
Roman broke in then, before the two could start an all-out fight that he knew would happen. "So, you see our problem then, healer, you understand what we need from you," his low voice rumbled through her mind.
"I do," she replied. "I'm not sure what I can do about it, though. I just work on healing people… and now demons, I guess. We will need to talk to someone who knows more about breaking those things around your neck. Also, I think that going forward you could all probably just call me Erin." Looking over to the door, she considered grabbing Baron and letting him come in for the rest of the conversation. She definitely needed to tell him about the recent events. But, before she could move a soft moan came from the bed. The hunter was awake and watching them with abject horror in her eyes. Erin sighed, this was going to be a long night.
XXXXXXXXXX
Bayley looked around the room she was supposed to be cleaning. How much longer did she have to do this? Her life used to be so happy, filled with hugs and laughter. Remembering her close family, she felt her chest tighten with sadness. She used to be filled with joy at every turn. Here, the life was sucked out of her, one day at a time. She longed to be touched again, to be safe in the arms of a loved one.
Dipping her cloth into the filthy water once again, she scrubbed the area where the Queen kept her most precious articles. It amazed Bailey that she was even allowed in here. She guessed the Queen knew that she didn't really have it in her to do anything bad. She was a lover, a hugger, not a fighter.
She surveyed the unique collection that her evil mistress had amassed over time. A torn parchment contract that was suspended, floating under a dark smoky dome. A fragment of a glowing soul suspended on a red pedestal. A chained metal box that moved, trying to open against the strength of the chains. The cracks that showed when it attempted each opening glowed crimson whenever Baily glanced at it.
The whole room gave her the heebie jeebies. If it wasn't so darned hot down here, she would have shivered. Oh, how she longed to be free of this horrible place. She guessed she didn't have it that bad, considering she was never physically hurt. Unlike the people and demons that she cleaned up after. The ones who had been wounded or worse. Unlike them, she merely existed. She existed down here without touch, without hope, without any feeling of happiness anymore. Oh, how she longed to be free.