A/N: So I'm sound asleep in bed, right? Dreaming of little doggies and kitty cats when my goddamn friend decides to shoot me a text at 2:30 in the fucking morning. And God knows that I have a text tone that could wake the fucking dead, and like an idiot, I forgot to put my phone on silent before I went to bed. So I almost scream my head off cause my loud-ass text tone made me think that I was about to get murdered in my sleep. Of course, I wasn't murdered, I was just getting very annoyed by my friend who doesn't sleep.
So I'm just tangling myself up in my blanket for a few hours, trying to go back to sleep, and it become increasingly apparent that the Powers That Be will not allow that to happen. So what do I do? I get up, turn on my computer, and start typing.
That brings us to the present, folks, with me uploading the next chapter at the crack of dawn. Congratulations. You can thank my obnoxious nocturnal friend for this upload.
To babyhorsewriter: Thank you again for the wonderful review :) I just wanted to try something different in the last chapter.
To Love and HeartBreak21: Oh...right... I did kill Colin, didn't I? I almost forgot about that.
To Riverfang12: I literally just started losing it at your comment. "Best nightmare ever besides all the sad subjects and fear." That is honestly hilarious. You know, just cause of that, I'm putting in another nightmare, just cause I love you.
To Kattylin: Wait. Do you mean to say that you have friends who read my story?! :DDDDDDDDDDD!
To Chibimax: OK that makes more sense now. So yeah, when I really want to, I can read super fast. Unfortunately, the website that I was using only had the first 20 issues, so I won't be able to read the rest unless I pay money which I don't have. Sorry.
To TheKittenAuthor: AND HE IS HERE TO TEAR SHIT UP
To Watcher: Ohmygosh, thank you! I really hope that you like the rest of the story, and I really appreciate you reading it!
Bigby bolted upright, cold sweat running down the back of his neck. His breath came out in shuddering gasps, and a high-pitched noise rang in his ear. "Snow?" he rasped. His throat was so dry, and he coughed.
He tried to look around at his surroundings, but his vision was blurry. From what he could tell, he was in the Archives, lying down on an old couch. He heard a sudden voice exclaim, "Bigby!"
The werewolf turned to his left and squinted. He could see a small, blurred figure hurrying towards him. From the scent, he knew it was Snow. He tried to speak, but all that came out was an unintelligible croak. He panted, his breathing heavy and uneven. After he swallowed a few mouthfuls of saliva, he managed to say, "Wha…what happened?"
Snow took another step towards him, but stayed a safe distance away. "Listen, Bigby, you're alright. Just calm down," she said to him in a quiet, careful voice.
"What. Happened?" he snarled at her.
She stepped back at his tone. "You need to slow down. Mary –"
"Mary!" Red-hot anger bubbled in the werewolf's stomach as he recalled the red mist tearing itself from his body. His golden eyes blazed, and he shoved himself off the couch only to fall to knees with a grunt. His head swam, and a sharp pain jabbed through his chest.
"Bigby, please!" Snow said. She hesitated for just a moment before coming forward to help the former sheriff to his feet. "You haven't eaten or drunk anything for the past four days. You need to calm down," she said.
"I'll calm down – ach! – after I've gutted the bitch," Bigby growled, struggling to his feet. His limbs trembled. It felt like someone was grabbing his heart and wringing it like a wet towel. He choked back a yelp.
"Stop!" Snow exclaimed. Throwing away all caution, she came rushed and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Please –"
"Don't touch me!" the werewolf barked at her. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he clutched at his chest with a clawed hand. With a moan, he sank back down to the couch as another spasm of pain shot across his heart. He shuddered, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision.
Bigby tried to breathe deeply, but tendrils of agony crawled beneath his ribs with every inhale. Still, as the oxygen flowed through his body, the werewolf managed to calm down enough for his claws and fangs to retract. Snow waited until he had taken a few shallow breaths before speaking. "We don't know exactly what Bloody Mary did to you. Now just sit down before you give yourself a heart attack," she said sternly.
"I'm fine. I just need to –" Bigby didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before he was overcome with a fit of coughing. He hacked into his palm, trying to keep from tearing up because of the agony that wrenched through his chest with every cough.
Snow sat down beside him and rested a hand on his back. She looked at him with concern. "Take it easy," she said.
"I can't…take it easy," Bigby panted. He looked down at the hand that he had coughed into. A small puddle of blood rested in the center of his palm. "While I was asleep… I heard…" He swallowed down a mouthful of bile.
"What is it?" Snow asked, her voice soft.
The werewolf glanced up at the mayor, closing his hand so that she couldn't see the blood. "How many Fables have died since I set Mary free?" he asked. Snow didn't answer. "Tell me," he pressed.
Finally, the mayor sighed reluctantly. "Twelve, last time Woody reported back to me," she said.
Bigby nodded slowly, his eyes distant. "Twelve," he repeated. His voice was hollow. "I killed twelve Fables."
"Mary killed twelve Fables," Snow corrected immediately. "There was nothing you could do."
The werewolf said nothing, but looked to the side. A cold feeling crept down his throat and rested in the pit of his stomach. He recognized it as guilt. "I need to stop her," he said.
"You can't. Not in your current condition. You need rest," Snow insisted.
"I've been asleep for four days," Bigby said. "I've been doing nothing for four whole days. I can't just sit back and let her kill anymore, Snow. I need to end this." He made a move to get up.
"Bigby, stop!" she shouted at him. The mayor stood up, grabbed the former sheriff by the shoulder, and shoved him back down onto the couch. In his state, it didn't take much force. "You will get yourself killed for nothing! We can't just charge in half-assed. We need a plan of attack. And right now, you can't do shit. So sit down, shut up, and just listen to me for once in your life!"
Bigby stared up at her, too shocked to say anything. Snow pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. "Now," she began, "I know this must be difficult for you. We don't know a lot about what Mary might – what is it?" The werewolf had been peering at her with an expression that she could not identify.
"Difficult?" he repeated quietly. "You think this is 'difficult' for me?"
Snow sighed heavily. "Please, just let me finish," she said.
"I killed Colin, Snow. I ripped out his heart. He was my friend." His voice was incredibly soft. The mayor could barely hear him.
Snow looked down. "I'm sorry, Bigby. It wasn't your fault," she said.
"Where is his body?" he asked, ignoring what she'd just said. Snow didn't answer. "Don't tell me it's still in my apartment!" he snarled at her.
"No!" she said hurriedly. "We already burned it. The ceremony was two days ago. It was, um, a group funeral. We just had another one this morning."
The werewolf turned away and licked his lips. "Did anyone come?" he asked.
"That isn't important right now, Bigby," Snow said.
"Please."
The mayor closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. "No," she said. "Most of the Fables haven't left their apartments since Bloody Mary got loose."
Bigby nodded slowly. "I see," he said. A pause. "Is Bufkin OK?" he asked.
Snow's eyes brightened, like she was jumping at the chance to tell him some good news. "Bufkin is fine. So is Beauty and Beast, Woody, Holly, and Gren. I, uh…I don't know about Auntie Greenleaf. She hasn't been answering her phone. I sent Woody out to check on her."
Again, Bigby nodded. He leaned back into the couch. Everything ached. His chest was tight, and it felt like he might pass out any second. Snow was right; he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The least he could do was get as informed as possible while he was like this. "Woody. What's his part in all of this?" he asked.
Snow sat down in a chair next to him. "After I drove you back here, I called Woody to make sure he was alright. I told him what happened, and he volunteered to help in whatever way he could. Since then, he's been checking on the other Fables, warning them about Mary. He's kind of been…well, he's been acting sheriff for the past few days," she finished awkwardly.
Bigby bristled. "Ah," he said. He raised an eyebrow at Snow. "Woody?"
The mayor nodded. "Yes. Woody. Anyway, it didn't take long for –"
"You chose Woody to replace me?" the werewolf interjected.
"He's not your replacement. But you were unconscious, and some things needed to be taken care of," Snow responded patiently. She continued, "It didn't take long –"
"Does he get to wear the badge?"
"Shut up, Bigby," she snapped. The werewolf silenced himself and gestured for the mayor to continue. She sighed. "As I was saying, it didn't take long for Bluebeard to learn what was going on. He got it in his head that he could go out and take care of Bloody Mary himself." Snow scoffed and shook her head. "I don't know what he was trying to prove," she said, "but we found his body last night. He had lacerations on every visible part of him. He bled to death."
Bigby remained silent. As much as he had hated the smarmy bastard, the manner of his death didn't make him excessively happy. He ran a hand through his hair tiredly. "I'm sorry, I guess," he muttered awkwardly.
"It's, um, it's fine. I mean, it's not fine, but I'm fine." Snow bit her lip and rubbed her arm, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Bigby felt. "Thank you," she said.
The werewolf nodded. After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. "So what's the plan?" he asked.
Snow breathed deeply. "To be honest, we don't have much of a plan right now. If Greenleaf is still alive, Woody's supposed to ask for her help, to see if she knows anything about how we might be able to kill Mary. Bufkin is somewhere in the shelves, researching. Other than that, basically it's just 'avoid getting killed,'" she said.
Bigby looked at her. "That's not enough. You have to know that," he said.
"Well, do you have any better ideas? Besides going out by yourself," Snow added, seeing the werewolf open his mouth to make a suggestion. "No," she said. "I'm not letting you kill yourself. Right now, the best thing you can do is get more rest. Build up your strength."
Bigby growled, "I'm tired of being useless. I need to help."
The mayor's face was stony. "Don't make me give you another sedative," she said in a warning tone.
The werewolf huffed and lied down on the couch lengthwise, crossing his arms angrily. After a moment, a though occurred to him. "Another sedative?" he said questioningly.
Snow winced, realizing her mistake. "You got a little…fitful in your sleep. We had to sedate you a couple times."
Instead of upset, the former sheriff simply seemed confused. "Regular sedatives wouldn't normally work on me. I guess I must have been pretty out of it," he muttered.
"We didn't use regular sedatives," Snow admitted. "It was diluted wolfsbane extract."
"Oh." Bigby uncrossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably. He recalled their heated conversation in Snow's office, when he had tried to kill Bluebeard. He'd been so shocked to find out that she had kept the Crooked Man's bullets. "So, I guess you did also have wolfsbane," he said.
Snow gave him a sideways glance. "Really?" she asked. Bigby shrugged, and she scoffed, turning away from him. "I didn't have any wolfsbane, Bigby. We called Swineheart. He had a stash in his medical supplies."
"Oh," the werewolf said again. He felt a little better knowing that the toxic plant didn't belong to her.
"Yeah." Snow stood up and looked around before saying, "I think I'm going to check on Bufkin. You get some sleep." Then, she walked off.
Bigby closed his eyes and turned on his side. Though he didn't feel as physically ill as before, his head still pounded, and his heart still jolted painfully every few minutes. He was exhausted, but sleep evaded him for the longest time.
Colin, stay with me, buddy.
Whatever you do, don't fall asleep.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
The werewolf jerked suddenly. His claws had come out and dug into the flesh of his forearms. Bigby tried to breathe deeply, but everything hurt too much to calm down. He gritted his teeth. Beating yourself up won't help you kill Mary, he thought. Rest. You need to rest. After what felt like hours, the werewolf managed to fall into a deep, but fitful slumber.
He dreamt that he was walking through his apartment, half-morphed, with claws, fangs, and dark brown hair along his arms, chin, and eyebrows. He entered the small space and looked around the living room. Colin's corpse was rotting on the floor, but he ignored it. Corpses rot, it wasn't his problem. He walked into the bedroom to see Snow White sitting on his bed, a lilac-colored ribbon tied around her neck. She was facing away from him, staring at the wall on the other side of the room
"What are you doing here?" he asked her.
She turned around, revealing that her eyes had been gauged out their sockets. All that remained were deep, bloody pits. Still, the mayor smiled at him. "I was waiting for you, Bigby," she said calmly before tugging on the bow around her neck ever so slightly. The knot came undone, and her head toppled to the floor.
He woke up to the sound of talking. "Woody called. Greenleaf's dead," one said. Snow. "Damn it!" she continued. "She was our last hope."
Bigby didn't know how long he'd been asleep. Not too long, judging by how tired he still was. He remained still, pretending to sleep as Bufkin replied, "Not our last hope."
"What do you mean?" Snow asked quickly. "Did you find something?"
"I did, but you won't like it," the monkey answered. "I looked back at The Power of a Legend, the book that told me how Mary was able to survive. Apparently, after the Urban Legend is able to manifest into corporeal form, most of her ties with the host body are severed. All except one."
No, Bigby thought, realizing what Bufkin was going to say.
"She still has a connection with Bigby's soul, one that cannot be cut. She depends on his life force to maintain her own. Once the energy stops flowing, Mary will revert back to her simplest form: just a pile of harmless glass," he said.
"Speak English, Bufkin! How do we stop the energy?" Snow asked angrily. Bigby knew she had already figured it out. Judging by her scent and tone of voice, she was just in denial.
Bufkin had reached the same conclusion, judging by how gently he said his next words. "If Bigby dies, so will Mary," he said.
"What?" Footsteps – Snow was pacing. "That's crazy. There's no way that's going to happen.
"It's the only solution I could find, Miss White," the monkey said.
"Then you haven't been looking hard enough!" the mayor snapped. Even in her hushed voice, Bigby could hear the rage in her words.
"I will keep looking, but we have to consider all the options," Bufkin tried to say, but Snow was hearing none of it.
"I don't need to consider this option, Bufkin. It's out of the question. Not. Happening."
"Miss Snow –"
"I suggest you get back to work, Bufkin. I don't want to hear any more on this subject," Snow said curtly. A few seconds passed when all was quiet. Then, Bigby heard the flap of wings. Bufkin took off.
The werewolf heard Snow walk over to him. He felt her standing over his body, watching him with a troubled expression. She reached down and rested a slim hand on his shoulder. Bigby remained still, not reacting to her touch.
Something wet fell on his cheek. He couldn't help but twitch when two more droplets landed on his chin. A sharp inhale, a few sniffs, and Bigby realized that Snow was crying. He couldn't move or speak as the Fable sank to her knees, her arms resting on Bigby's back, her face buried in the couch. He couldn't hold her close or whisper comforting words in her ear when he heard sobs wrack through her body.
He could only lie still and pretend to sleep.