A/N: Chapter contains potentially sensitive content, like temporary dismemberment.

Chapter Sixteen: Gold Dust

"And that should do it," Anders said, stepping back from the red-orange panel to inspect Renkotsu's scowl. The mechanic took to the metal with a large hammer and shaped it back into something resembling... well, what would probably be something useful once it was finished. The truth in the matter was that Anders didn't care a lick for whatever was going on here, but it was conveniently close to the entrance and he had yet to see any sign of Remus or Naoya. It was reaching late afternoon, now - very late, too late for comfort. Anders crossed his arms, waiting for the man to indicate that he needed to heat the sheet the metal up once more.

"You are not heating this side properly," Renkotsu stated. He used the tail end of his long, pale-blue bandana to wipe a bead of sweat from his cheek.

"Is that a compliment?" Anders replied, and Renkotsu made no indication that he heard the mage whatsoever. How was he supposed to get under the man's skin when evidently it was made of the iron he loved so much? He had all the humor of a dead man.

"Over here," Ren said, pointing with his finger, and Anders rolled his eyes before acquiescing.

"That means you're helpful," Sokka said from across the antechamber. "I think. It's hard to tell."

Ren huffed past a small scowl, saying nothing. A bead of sweat fell past his tattooed jawline as he pounded the sheet metal further.

Anders felt himself frown slightly, turning to watch Sokka in the gap between instructions. For most of the morning, he had been sitting in silence. Sokka's body was lax, but in his eyes there was a cold tension and his hands were stiff against the small whetstone he used to sharpen his boomerang.

"I'm rather surprised that you aren't doing that in the workshop, Sokka," Anders said quietly. "Wouldn't you have better tools there?"

Sokka paused, shifting his weight where he sat. He put the boomerang down carefully, and his lips curled left, then right. "Yeah, but there's nobody up there. I mean, it's alright to do it by myself, but why, when I can do it with company?"

The way he looked at the floor after speaking made Anders bite his tongue. He paused. "Are you waiting for N- "

"Here. Over here," Renkotsu demanded, turning both heads. "Quickly."

Anders obliged, though he carefully rolled up his sleeves before summoning much more flame. Maker forbid a quick spark catch if he were going to be here a while. He was grateful that the sound of the fire covered his muttered cursing. It was frustrating being here. It was frustrating waiting for Remus and Naoya without knowing anything about what was happening. Maker only knew whether everything was alright, and there were so many "what-ifs" that Anders was sure that at least one of them would require significant healing upon return if not both. It wouldn't be like this at all if he had been able to see to things directly, but that was a bruise still tender to the touch and objectivity was only so helpful if he wasn't careful.

"Over here," Ren said again, pounding against the metal that was slowly taking shape.

Anders just sighed.

"Ando!"

His insides went rigid. "What in the - ?"

"Hey," Naoya said, striding casually down the steps. The steps from inside the Vault . The steps that Anders had been sitting on the entire night , waiting.

And here he was. Alone. Without Remus.

"Naoya, did you not-?"

"Oh, I went along," he said. His hands were in his pockets, and his spine was very straight. He smiled. "Did you not see us come back?"

Renkotsu peered over his work with a stoney, dismissive glance. "Hurry up and heat this metal, mage."

Anders waved him off, opening his mouth to speak. But Sokka beat him to it.

"We were sitting here all morning," he said. "We didn't see anyone go in or out. When did you come back? Why didn't you tell us you were back? I could have had this done two hours ago if I hadn't taken my time!" He swung his hands as he spoke, pointing to the boomerang still in his lap.

Ren glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Where are the supposed supplies you two went for?"

Naoya took a step forward. "Uh, yeah. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to Andy about. Mind if I borrow him for a bit?"

"You will have to wait your turn." The mechanic had turned to face all of them now, slapping the side of the mallet against the palm of his hand with impatience. "In case it has slipped anyone's notice, I am trying to make very important repairs and actually do something productive today."

Naoya pointed towards the wall, where sat a small row of blow torches lined up against the stone. "What's wrong with those? Why can't Sokka help you for a little while?"

Ren snorted. It was the closest thing to a laugh they had seen yet. "Sokka is banned from using those. I suspect that if you look, his left eyebrow is thinner than the other."

Sokka went very rigid. "It was an accident!"

"No matter," Ren replied stiffly. He returned his bandana to his head. "I need the mage."

Naoya caught Anders' eye, and the look pinned Anders' legs to the floor. Something cold trickled down the back of his spine. Something had gone horribly wrong. He knew it, he knew something would happen! By Andraste's holy fucking pyre, he knew something would go wrong and no one listened! Anders took a sharp breath, and his fingers flexed at his sides.

"I'm sorry," he blurted to Renkotsu, pointing to Sokka and then to the torches and pleading with his eyes as he followed Naoya back out towards the main hall. Once they were out of earshot, he could contain himself no longer. "What is it? What's happened? I told him something would go wrong, I knew!"

Naoya was walking fast, but still managed to cock Anders a sly grin. "Don't worry, Ando, it's much worse than anything you're thinking of."

"That's not funny."

"Alright, alright. But it is true that you're needed for medical attention."

Anders kept having to slow down to keep pace with Naoya. Did he not sense any urgency? Was he going just shy of Anders's pace on purpose? "How bad is it? How bad is he? And - and how did you get in here? I waited there all night long. I would have seen you come back!"

Naoya took Anders's arm to slow him down, a small touch that was quickly aborted. On the underside of the mage's forearms, Naoya barely caught the sight of many burn scars that wove across the skin. "Look, I know you're worried. I can feel how worried you are. But you can't rush in there and bust the door down like a lightning bolt, although I know that's your usual style. One thing at a time. Remus is okay. He's okay. I healed him, so you don't have to worry about that too much."

Inwardly, Anders balked. "He allowed you to help him? He told me he didn't need any help."

"Yeah," Naoya went on. He made sure to gesture with his hands as he talked. "He had that conversation with you, not with me. But it's probably better if he doesn't know I did anything, either, so don't tell him - 'cause I'll take you down with me, Andy."

Anders growled, and pushed past Naoya without knowing where he was going. At this point, he just needed to be moving. Naoya caught up with him and stepped in his path, cutting him off.

"Take a breath. You're giving me a headache with your tension, Andy. Tension headache, ha."

Caught between terror and fury, Anders felt like he was about to explode. "You aren't going to move," he said through his teeth. "Are you."

Naoya shook his head. "Nope. You need to relax before I finish telling you what's happening."

Anders sighed, clenching his fists. Then, sighed again. And then, again. But try as he might, he could not release his tension. He stared somewhat helplessly at Naoya, an unmovable obstacle in the archway despite his size.

"Just tell me."

Naoya pursed his lips, looking Anders up and down. He inhaled sharply. "So our furry little problem has become three little furry problems."

Anders' nose scrunched in confusion. "And just what is that - "

Naoya pointed upwards, and Anders followed his finger. He hadn't realized how far they had come. They were standing directly below the tattered hide hanging from the main entryway in the central chamber. The very tattered - very balverine - hide.

Anders went very pale. "What are you saying? Naoya, what's happened?"

"It's not Remus who's hurt," Naoya said, quite serious.

They made it to their quarters in hardly any time at all after that, practically running through the maze of hallways with desperate breaths. Anders slid the keycard through the slot and nearly burst through the door as soon as it rolled open.

Remus was there, holding a crumpling form on his shoulders and stumbling to the couch. The white mass was smeared with blood that dripped in red clawprints across the metal floor. Alastor was breathing heavy, his golden eyes barely open. His legs started to give, and Remus pitched forward, unable to support the weight on his own. In an instant, Nadine was on Alastor's other side. Together they placed him gently down across the couch. Nadine's ears swiveled back and forth and her hairless, wispy tail was stiff. She panted heavily, and her nose was working the room in massive puffs.

"Here," Naoya breathed, passing swiftly by Anders and into the center of the room with the others. He pointed back towards the mage. "Found him."

"Anders," Remus said at once, locking eyes and stepping to meet him. But Anders' breath had caught in his throat. Naoya said he had healed Remus, but the man in front of him looked beaten beyond exhaustion. There was blood on his fingers and on parts of his clothes, and Anders saw the white balverine fur practically soaked with it as well but to whom all the blood belonged didn't matter anymore -

"Remus-"

"Help him," Remus interrupted, pleading with a voice that was quite hoarse. "Anders, Alastor is dying."

Nadine whined, a pained and desperate sound. She panted, through the air deep underground was quite cool. Her eyes were wide, and the whites were clearly visible.

Anders swallowed, taking his fears deep within. He breathed out a wave of anxiety, letting it go; assuming his role. Objectivity. Objectivity.

He swung his staff from his shoulders and leaned it against the door, striding over to the now unconscious balverine. "Can you clean up some of this blood, Remus? I can't see worth a damn."

Remus' hands were shaking as he took up his wand and carefully went over the snow-white fur. He glanced up to Nadine, waiting for a rogue snarl, but she remained stoic though ever present.

"Hurry," Anders pressed, though his hands were already illuminated with a pale violet glow. Remus doubled down on his efforts.

"He's been hit at least once," Anders announced to no one. "And there are so many claw wounds - Maker, they had better not be cursed."

He dared to touch one of the wounds and Alastor flinched, letting out a sharp noise that faded back into the darkness with him. Nadine barked, growling fiercely. She scored her claws down the length of the wall in a fit of restless energy, leaving shavings behind.

Across the room, Naoya flinched. "It'll be okay," he said loudly enough for them all to hear. "It'll be okay. He fixed me up, and he'll fix big ol' Al. Don't worry." He continued to reassure her, coming to stand by her and whispering it like a mantra.

"I need a little space," said Anders. "Remus - help me, here." He lowered his voice just as Remus came to his side. "He was shot through the chest. Here. I need you to put pressure."

"Can you do something about the pain?" The words were Nadine's, not Naoya's, even if they came from his lips.

"Yes, but - Maker, there's bubbling from this one. Don't move - he has to lie still!"

Anders pressed his hand directly over the largest patch of blood towards the left side of Alastor's chest. Swaths of light bored out from the spaces between his fingers. He had tended to arrow and the occasional bolt wound, but this was something else entirely. They did not feel like cursed wounds, not all of them. But in the deepest areas of bleeding Anders sensed something like oil in water, seeking veins like poison.

"Can you spot an exit wound from there?" he asked, and Remus leaned cautiously over the back of the couch to examine Alastor's massive torso.

"Yes - yes, here. There's massive bleeding."

"Just put pressure on it until I can get to it, and if you hear any air - "

"I'll let you know," Remus nodded. He didn't need to be told.

"Hey, Remus, you have those bandages in the pack," Naoya added, and Remus summoned them at once. "And don't you know healing spells?"

"Not for this," replied Remus quickly, "this is far too - "

"If you can help," Anders said, "do it. I've got the big one." He snatched a handful of bandages and sunk his teeth into the plastic VaulTec wrapping. He lifted his hand slowly, slipping the cotton over the wound briefly to soak up the excess blood. "There's something inside here," he spat. "It's poisoning him."

"A bullet," said Remus. "It's got to be."

"Can you get it out?"

Remus hesitated. "Yes, but-"

"It doesn't matter," Anders demanded. "Just do it!"

"It's going to hurt," Remus finished, glancing to Naoya and Nadine. " Accio!"

Nadine continued to whine. Even Anders could taste iron on his tongue. He didn't want to imagine what the balverine's round nose was telling her. But through patient effort, eventually the bleeding stopped. The worst of the wounds was sealed. But it was still the better part of another hour before anyone let out the breaths they had held.

Now, with two half-dead balverines in their living room, the time for pause had come. But there was hardly one.

Anders resisted the urge to press on his throbbing temple, keenly aware that his hands were still sticky with fresh balverine blood. "He'll live," he said. "But that silver… it will likely be a while before he's going to be up from this couch."

Nadine, if she had heard him, gave no motion. She was pressed at Alastor's side, sniffing and examining Anders's handywork as though half expecting the skin to break open once again. She nuzzled the red patches in his white fur and continued to make small noises, like soft whispers. It was the closest thing to affection any of them had ever seen from one of their kind.

Anders sighed, turning. "How did this happen?"

"Reaver," Naoya said. He was watching Nadine intently, and Anders wondered what he could be getting from staring at her back. "Somehow."

Remus emerged then from the bathroom, offering a damp hand towel to Anders. "Perhaps we ought to let them rest," he said, pointing with a jerk of his thumb. "And I'd, er, like to sit down..."

"Oh - " The memory of the night came back to Anders then, and he saw Remus again as if for the first time. The bruising, the red lines tracing dark undereyes, his pale complexion; the anger over it all came back, but his doctor's objectivity swallowed the smoke. "Yes," he blurted, "yes - let's sit. I'll fetch some water."

Remus and Naoya headed into Remus and Anders' chambers, the only place with a door between them and the balverines with enough room for all. Anders came in shortly thereafter with a glass of water for Remus, who accepted it with hands shaking strongly enough that it nearly ended up in his lap. As Remus let his weight settle onto his bed, he felt every part of him craving sleep like a toothache. He made sure to press his back firmly into the wall to keep himself straight up, and uncomfortable. Every bone in him told separate stories of ache, and his stomach churned. The room spun briefly.

Across the way, Naoya had seated himself cross-legged on one side of Anders' bed, allowing enough space for the mage who was about to wear a trench into the floor with his rampant pacing. He kept looking to Remus, who fixated on his drink.

"What happened at the Windmill?" Anders asked. "How did this happen?"

When Naoya finished recounting the tale of what happened at the Windmill, Anders stared.

"We need to tell Wash," Remus croaked in summary.

Anders turned to him, a little too quickly. "Look at your hands shaking," he retorted loudly. "You need sleep, that's what you need!" Anders stopped, biting the inside of his cheek and running his hands over his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, this is so much to - we can't tell her! 'Oh, we only snuck the leader of the your enemies in here under your noses without explicit permission, is that a problem?'"

"It's not like we have some other choice," Naoya said, his thin brow arching. "It's not like we can hide a large body and an ocean of blood. Believe me, I've tried."

"I know," Anders said, but still he paced. "I know. You're right. But this will not go over well."

"I'll tell her," Remus said quietly, and the others turned to him. "I think I need to."

"So let me get this straight," Wash began to reiterate. "In order to get out of Reaver's mansion, you made the deal with the balverines. That's what you said before. But now you say that Alastor was only willing to make the deal with you at all because you're a werewolf. And now, through some horrible series of events we know next to nothing about, Alastor is here, in this Vault, and he gets to waltz in here like nothing and stay?"

Wash looked torn between rage and confusion, and her cheeks had darkened several shades. But beyond the rage in her face was the fear that set her to summarize the events in the hopes that she had gotten at least ninety percent of it wrong. But it wasn't wrong, was it? And that realization burned into her eyes and into the way her jaw set in a razor sharp angle. It burned into her shoulders and her neck as she stood like the wall years of war had built inside of her. She knew they had struck a deal with Alastor when she had let them in, but for something to come of it on their end… She stared at them.

"If it wasn't part of the deal before, it is now," Naoya mumbled quietly, biting his thumbnail. He resisted the urge to rub at his temples, resisted the basic need to try to soothe away the migraine that was building up with the tensions.

"No," Remus said, swallowing something tacky in the back of his throat. He coughed, hoping to clear his vocals, but it would take some time for his voice to return properly. "Whatever has happened to him, Alastor was gravely injured. I brought the two of them here to save his life. Believe me, I would under no other circumstances bring Alastor Grienwulf here of all places."

Sokka had his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his mouth changing angles as if he couldn't settle on how deep a frown to give, and he shook his head. "Great, he's healed, right? Isn't that what you said? Now he and his balver-wife can go."

"They're not going to go," Naoya pointed out, "Because there's nowhere to go."

"You think he's going to get a welcome from us?" Wash nearly snapped. Waves of tension almost made Naoya squint as he looked to her. "After all that monster and the rest of his kind have done to us, he's lucky we're even talking about it right now!"

"I understand your feelings," said Remus, stepping forward and claiming all eyes. He stood firm, but he tried to appear as neutral as possible. Anders had lent Remus his staff which now bore the brunt of the wizard's weight, and Naoya saw sweat dotting his temples with the effort just to stand. "But you must also understand that whatever we decide to do with them after he recovers is less important than what we do right now. When we left, we thought Reaver would be powerless. Something has happened - something that we need to discover, and our only hope to find answers is him! We need him!"

"Then you should have made certain that the Lord Reaver was actually dead before you attempted to trick your way into our base," Renkotsu calmly sneered from his place in the doorway. His fossil-brown gaze was unwavering as he silently placed his blame.

"The balverines needed Reaver alive," Remus retorted desperately. "Otherwise, Alastor would have become..."

Naoya let the conversation slip from his senses as Remus once again explained what he knew of Guardianship and Oases. He leaned one hand on the metal table between himself and Remus, and Wash and Sokka - keeping empathic tabs on everyone in the room, but most importantly he eyed the bandanna-wearing man who loomed by the entryway.

Wash could go on about Alastor being there, and Sokka could complain about the "giant white fluffy monster" who had tried to personally eat him four times all he wanted; but it was Renkotsu that Naoya needed a reading on the most. The archaic mechanic always felt muddled to Naoya's senses, like everyone else was color and Renkotsu was monochrome.

Wash and Sokka would wear down eventually, neither of them were the type to burn more than the occasional metaphorical bridge - but for one reason or another, Naoya got the distinct impression that Ren would burn the metaphorical bridges, the metaphorical castle the bridges led to, and then salt the metaphorical earth behind him. And he had a hunch that the mercenary wouldn't stop with the metaphorical, either.

And when Ren silently fell away from the conversation and left down the corridor - no more verbal accusations, no more aimed logic - Naoya felt his stomach drop slightly.

"We trusted you!" Wash said, her hands curled tight. "And you let them right into our base, led them right to us!"

"They have no idea where this is," said Remus. "Both of them were Apparated here; they have no way of knowing where we are."

"Then how did they find you?"

Remus hesitated. He had no way to answer that, because he didn't know himself. "It's possible that-" he swallowed "-perhaps they saw our plant trails, the ones we left behind while we searched for Naoya."

"Or," Sokka offered pointedly, "he used you. He let you go, and he waited until you found us because he knew you'd come looking for us. They've been trying to find us for months! Even if he did turn against Reaver, what made you think he'd be honest with you? Just because you're like him? He used you to get at us!"

Remus felt the wind leave his chest. "I doubt he'd self-injure to the extent that he's immobilized-!"

"I'm tired of this," Wash said, and she headed for the door. "I want to see this for myself. Let's go downstairs. Naoya, you need - " she halted, half-turned on the heel of her boot.

Somewhere in the slurry of accusations the teenager had vanished.

Renkotsu didn't exactly prefer hunting. Some hunts could be calculated, others could not; there were too many factors to consider and the mercenary disliked uncertainty.

He gathered his gear quickly, checking behind his shoulder now and then when the sensation of eyes drew close on his neck. But there was never anyone there, and Ren made his way down, deep into the Vault. His destination was waiting.

The hallway on the lower level was empty, and the motion lights were dark. The hallway was lined with red lights as the empty apartments sat locked and waiting. His footsteps echoed with purpose as he headed toward the only one with a green light - the only one with any life inside, checking his shoulder one last time. The open space made it all the easier to move with the weapon of his choice - a repeating cannon, or, as some of his vaultmates had known it as from their own worlds, a gatling gun. Ignoring the few comments of how his invention wasn't supposed to have been invented in their version of the world during his time period, he was proud of it; it would make this hunt easier.

"That looks safe."

At those words, Renkotsu's posture went rigid. He stiffly turned back, half-gloved fingers gripping the leather strap that held the primitive gatling gun onto his back. The motion lights above kept the hall fairly dim, and there, stepping out of the unlit half, was the brat who'd started all this.

Naoya had his hands shoved casually in his coat pockets, chin held high as his inhuman eyes stared through his bangs - his eyes flickered to the weapon on Ren's back for a split-second before going back to meet the other's even gaze. "Big gun in a confined area," he quipped, shaking his head, "That's overkill. Afraid you're going to miss?"

But Ren's disdainful frown only spread and the violet markings that lined his face made his expression seem darker. The fingers of his free hand played with the leather that lined his palm, purposefully playing with the metal wires that criss-crossed his hand and crawled up his custom-crafted vambraces.

"You know some purifying arts, you have this weird array of knowledge on demons and magic," Naoya started to list, shifting his weight to cross his arms. "Normal monks don't give up their religion to become mercenaries, fight demons head-to-head, or craft weapons of war." When Renkotsu didn't answer him, he shrugged. "You know, most people get really defensive when they're hiding something. And you have been defensive... haven't you?"

At that comment, Ren's deathly-still face twitched - his jaw pressing tighter. His free hand slid inside the upper silk hem of his dark blue kimono, fingers clenching into a fist as he seemingly grabbed something.

Naoya arched his manicured brows, motioning with a hand towards the obvious reach. "For someone who's supposed to be really smart, that's really no-"

Ren pulled his hand out and threw a small knife at Naoya's legs - it didn't take much for Naoya to catch the knife with his powers. But no sooner had Naoya caught the knife did Renkotsu flick his wrist for a second attack while the teenager was distracted - quickly whipping the thin cables off of his forearm and tangling the psychic's upper body in his trap. He moved to do the same with the wires from his other vambrace, though Naoya was only partly successful in fending off the third attack as his legs soon became ensnared as well.

Renkotsu violently jerked on the wires, yanking them tight and pulling the bound psychic onto the ground.

There was a teetering anger in his dark and narrow eyes, raging but contained - and it was an anger the man had apparently known before.

"I am sick of reckless brats like you, barely turned of age, thinking they can toy with me!" Renkotsu spoke lowly, menacingly. "No more! I am done following unquestioningly into unwinnable fights; this time I am prepared!" He stamped a boot down onto Naoya's side, yanking at the cables fiercely and grinning darkly when his prey obviously was in pain. "These cables are covered in a special oil, which is now all over your clothing and skin," he said, suddenly calm, leaning closer. "You call out for help, and I'll spark my end of the cables and set them - and you - ablaze."

"Isn't that your plan already," Naoya muttered, he hissed as the wire dug into his skin when Ren pulled it taught again.

Winding up his boot, Renkotsu kicked his captive's stomach as hard as he could - smirking darkly when he managed to curl Naoya's body into the very door he was aiming for. "Maybe I should just set your pyre here, you insufferable little shit."

But before he could make any headwind on his threat the door slid open with a hiss, and through the frame a gust of blue-white ice shot across. It hit Renkotsu in the center of his chest, and Naoya flinched as chunks of ice broke apart from impact and fell around his frame. Anders's sturdy Warden boots stepped over him as he stormed out of their home.

Renkotsu held himself on hand and knee, gasping for breath. The wind had been knocked out of him only: his unimposing frame could surprisingly take a hell of a punch. But Anders did not care, and took him by the collar to drag him to his feet.

"Explain yourself!" he yelled into the monk's pale, white face. But he received only a hateful glare in response. Not taking his face from Ren's, Anders asked: "Naoya - are you alright?"

"Anders-!" Naoya shouted, just in time for Renkotsu's punch to line up with Anders's jaw.

With himself freed, Ren backed up a few paces and again reached into his attire once again - this time withdrawing a slender closed tube with a string, a small metal ball no bigger than a bead attached to the end. "I am here for the balverines," he said threateningly, "Let me pass and I may let you keep the brat. If not…" His voice trailed but the stick of explosives in his hand was held in front of him.

"You can't be serious!" Naoya shouted, squirming to try to get up as he called the mercenary's bluff. Wires dug into his skin where his clothes had failed to protect him entirely. He had partially been able to free one foot, but that wasn't enough. "You wouldn't blow us all up-"

Ren's eyes narrowed in defiance before he bit the small ball on the end of the string, yanking it hard and sparking the end of the fuse to life. He then spat the ball out onto the floor. "Do not think I won't!" He gestured in a chopping motion with his other hand, brow creasing . "I have survived worse things than being buried!"

"You would throw away all of our lives for your stupid vendetta!" Anders shouted through a bloodied lip.

But he never got a rebuttal. A horrific snarl began a sight that they would remember: an auburn flash, the slap of flesh against metal, and a pained shout.

Renkotsu was on the ground, Nadine on top of him. Her clawed fingers pierced his chest and blood pooled around the beds, but did not grow. A maw of razors sank into Renkotsu's arm just below the shoulder and he cried out. Tearing, ripping of flesh - with a quick thrust of powerful neck muscles Renkotsu's arm was torn from his body in a hail of dark blood and muscle. But Nadine dropped the limb nearly as quickly as she took it, dragging her claws from Ren's chest to paw at her muzzle and gag. Her ears bent low and her quills distended along her spine as she growled down at the mercenary monk, exposing bloodied fangs. It looked as if she had tasted something terrible.

"Andy, get the dynamite!" Naoya shouted, struggling to point.

Anders tore his gaze from the balverine to search the floor. He needn't look far: still held in the severed hand, the fuse was hissing with sparks. Anders snatched it up and extinguished the fuse with a wisp of frost, deathly aware of just how little time there was left on the string. He wiped his mouth, tasting nothing but copper, and turned back to the scene unfolding.

"Naoya," he said, rushing towards the teen as he pulled his dagger from his belt and took a fistful of the wires wrapping around the boy. "Ah, they're covered in something - hold on. It smells like some kind of oil, I don't want it to spark." Anders returned his dagger and undid one of the cloth bindings on his wrist, clutching it in his hand for better grip as he uncoiled Naoya by hand. "Naoya, are you hurt? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, thankfully you used an ice spell, if you had used fire I'd be toast ," Naoya flashed something close to a tired but proud smirk.

"I'm going to leave you tied here," Anders warned.

"Step away from him!" Wash's voice, hard and angry, snapped all heads towards the hallway entrance. Wash had set her eyes squarely on Nadine over the top of her sonic pistol. Sokka was right behind her, but stopped still at the sight - and stood at the bottom of the staircase, as if anchored.

Renkotsu struggled to get up across the tiled floor, but when he pushed himself up he coughed up a splurt of the same deep brownish-red, and he leaned back down. A few of his chest wounds bubbled as he looked at the others with almost shameful discontempt. Wash seemed to see him clearly for the first time, and paled.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now!" she yelled, and Nadine backed towards Anders and Naoya with her ears flat against her head, quilled hackles raised. "Look at what you've done!"

A hand shot out from behind her and wrapped around her elbow, gentle but firm.

"Look at the ground," Remus said quickly, imploring with his other hand and pointing with his wand at Naoya still ensnared on the ground. "This is not the whole picture!"

"You are the reason these monsters are here at all!" Wash snapped back at him, wringing her arm free from him to stare at him with incredulity. "Look at this!"

"It's true -" Anders stood from the ground with the wrappings still in his hands. "Renkotsu attacked Naoya! He was going to set this hall on fire! Look at the canon beside him, look at Naoya - these are coated in oil, and he was going to-!"

"Shut up, all of you!" She pointed at Anders. "Help him, do something!"

Anders was kneeling beside Renkotsu in an instant, hands glowing with the familiar blue. Ren tried to fight, to push him away with what remained of his arm.

"I do not need your aid!" he tried to shout, but it came out as a garble as he spit out more blood.

"You're delirious from blood loss," Anders muttered, trying to view the most grievous of the injuries. But as he pulled the sleeve away from Ren's shoulder to view the jagged amputation, Anders felt his innards begin to go cold. "Where is it...?" he asked, to no one in particular. "You've lost an arm, there should be more blood than this…!"

At these words Renkotsu jolted, urging himself up suddenly and bringing himself to sit on his knees. The severed arm was not far, and he was able to reach it with little strain. As each of the others stared at him, Renkotsu collected his arm and maneuvered it bloodied-end-first into the torn sleeve of his robes. With a sick squelching sound and a sharp snap of bone, Renkotsu's face contorted with pained concentration and the fingers of the arm began to flex. It was as though the arm had never been severed.

"Magic?" Anders heard himself ask, though he was still in shock. "Blood magic?"

Renkotsu spit the rest of the blood in his mouth onto the floor, wiping his mouth with his reattached limb. "I told you that I did not require aid," he growled. He turned to Wash, glaring with fury burning in his eyes. "After all the work it has taken to get this far, you would throw it away. And look at the chaos that's been wrought!"

"We are not your enemy," Remus said, stepping forward. "Reaver is our enemy, our common enemy - and these two risked their lives to bring us the news that he is still a threat!"

"You've brought an unwinnable fight to the doorstep!" Renkotsu's face was livid. "And you've let head agents of the opposition into the base!"

"Can't you see that they mean you no harm?" Anders yelled, with one arm flung out at his side in front of Nadine.

"Wait a minute!" Sokka's head poked out from behind Wash's shoulder, and he scooted around her. "You just popped your arm back on like it was nothing! I don't like the balverines either, but, I mean, doesn't anyone else think that that might need discussing, right now?" He threw an obvious look at Ren.

Fresh claw wounds from Nadine were still wet on Ren's chest, though they no longer bubbled, and Wash stared at him. "What are you?" the words came out edged with betrayal.

Renkotsu looked to Sokka and Wash as though he was seeing something for the second time in his life. But he sighed, albeit angrily. "A dead man walking," he muttered. "A bourei."

Sokka's eyes edged wider and he threw his arms out to the sides. "You're a zombie?!"

"That answers a lot," Naoya said, and heads turned to him. He was still getting untangled from the wires. Sensing the confusion from all but Ren and Sokka, he added: "It's Japanese. It means 'spectre,' but I guess you could translate it as 'undead'. I thought he felt funny to my senses, but I didn't know why… Still, never would've guessed zombie."

Sokka opened his mouth to speak again but a new voice came into the conversation, an even one that gave everyone chills: "So you're the one who smells like grave dirt."

A tall form lingered in the doorway, standing just behind Naoya. Shifted into his human form, Alastor did not look well. One hand gently held his chest, and the other he kept pressed discretely against the doorframe in which he was standing. There was a slight, nearly invisible slouch in his shoulders, and though it seemed impossible Alastor had visibly paled with the stress of simply standing. His golden gaze was marred with bloodshot veins, and the multiple slashes that covered the visible sections of skin and remainder of his clothing told a terribly story of his attack. It was a wonder he was standing. And yet the way he glared down at Renkotsu, it was not weak. Rather, it was unyielding.

"Demon," Renkotsu breathed lowly, narrow eyes becoming almost slits on his tattooed and bloody face. "Finally come to show yourself now?"

"You wanted to face me so badly, corpse," Alastor explained, towering over Ren. Their gazes seemed to exchange an endless challenge, both cold looks with neither side quite winning. "Here I am."

The infirmary air was cold. The airflow from overhead sent cool, underground air circulating through the room and the dead flowers by the desk shuddered in the draft coming from directly above. It was the only sound in the room, and the tension could not have been pierced with a knife.

Three of the infirmary's dozen beds were occupied. Closest to the door, Renkotsu sat upright in his bed still wearing his bloodied clothes. But Wash stood over him, her arms crossed and her eyes dark. The trust was lost.

A few beds down, Alastor lay across the mattress but remained fully awake. His expression was less pained now that he was off of his feet. But his mouth was still set into a faint snarl after Anders insisted on bedrest. Nadine was curled up on the bed beside him, and on her shoulder a fresh wrapping had been fixed to her wounds from the day before. Nearly forgotten until now, Alastor watched carefully as Anders tended to her and made sure it would not become infected. The two would not leave each other's side.

In the bed across from Renkotsu, Remus was fighting sleep. He held a glass of water in a shaky hand, nursing his drink and tapping his wand against his leg. Anders had tended to each of them and stood breathing heavily beside him, his mana depleted, though neither of them would comfortably meet the other's eye.

Though he had been attacked, Naoya was not seriously injured. Or he assured them all he wasn't. "Just bruised!" he'd said, right before going on about needing a shower, and Sokka promised to come to them right away if it turned out the psychic had been less than truthful about his condition. Last thing they needed were more bodies in the sick bay.

In a small window of time, the room became bloated with unease. Wash's head was pounding. She needed a drink badly, a high-proof drink.

"So I'm going to ask some questions," she said slowly, looking around with venom. "And I want answers. Real answers, no more of these bullshit half-truths or someone will be sleeping outside . Is that clear?"

Though there was no vocal response, the very air in the room seemed to shift to attention.

"Good." Wash crossed her arms. "What happened last night, Remus? I see your wounds - I believe you; that you're a werewolf and that you were indisposed last night. But look at it from my point of view, and tell me that you didn't bring these balverines here. I need you to tell me that."

"I swear to you that I did no such thing," Remus replied simply. He looked at her with a steady gaze, trying to impress his sincerity upon her.

"Then how did they find us?"

Still flat on his bed, Alastor's reply was nonplussed. "It is not hard to track those who leave behind a trail to follow. Before you conclude the worst, know that we worked hard to pick up that trail. If it had rained, it would have been nigh impossible to follow any trace scents. But your escape was not followed: only luck allowed us to find you. Your 'Vault' is undiscovered, for now."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Alastor glanced to Renkotsu out of the side of his eye. "It means that for now, your Vault is not known to Reaver. Or should I repeat myself once more?"

Ren went white with rage, a snarl catching in his throat as Wash and Anders stepped towards him in warning. He looked as though he wished both of them would spontaneously combust.

"But the barriers," Anders said. He stood now at the foot of the monk's bed, much closer to Alastor. "Remus and I, we set barriers to prevent intrusion."

"Conditionally," Remus offered from behind him. "Barriers of upwards strength could kill almost anything - wild birds, animals. So the spells don't react to peaceful intent, just as Naoya and Mabel were able to walk through on their own. The magic is not perfect."

Wash pursed her lips, carefully considering the words 'peaceful intent.' She turned to Alastor so abruptly that Nadine lifted her head with a soft, deep noise from her throat that was not quite a growl but not quite something else. Wash kept at a cautionary distance.

"You've killed more of our people than I can name," she said darkly. "There used to be a town; there used to be people. Children, families. We're all that's left! Your people - your kind, slaughtered them! You turned some of them into monsters! And you expect me to allow this to go on any further? I've wanted to blast your skull open and mount it on my wall."

At her words, Ren frowned deeply, wringing his hands in his lap tightly, stiffly nodding once in agreement. But she did not notice the dead man's frown and instead glared long and hard at Remus, and then at Anders, before turning back to Alastor.

"But... I believe them," she said. "I believe that you made a deal, and I believe them now. What I don't understand is why in the hell would you think you could come here and ask us for help after everything you've done?"

Alastor hardly made a face as he sat up now, though the pain was clear in his eyes. Nadine made to help, but ceased at the raising of his palm. The sheets hardly shifted beneath him. He slid his legs across to the floor, fine black boots silently touching the linoleum. In balverine terms, this was a generous pause.

"Not you nor your charges personally, Lieutenant," he said. "I came seeking them-" he motioned vaguely at Remus and Anders "- quid pro quo. Mr. Lupin owes me."

"'Quid pro quo'!" Anders wrinkled his nose. "You're mad if you think that any of us owes you a life debt. I would have thought that was settled when we left you in charge of 'your' hive!"

"Then you thought wrong," Alastor camly blinked, his steady stare carried with it some kind of warning. He looked to Remus, who turned to Anders.

"...Yes, it's true." Remus paused. He remembered that night: Give me your word that you will protect Anders and Naoya, even from me. Keep them safe, and you shall have my trust.

"The arrangement as it was struck was only for your safety, Anders," he said. "You and Naoya. I fully expected to be left behind. The fact that he and Nadine saved me and brought me to you was not part of the deal. By rights, I suppose that I do indeed owe them for my life."

Anders stared at Remus, his face seemingly unable to settle in one emotion or another. He turned away.

Beside him, Wash's dark eyes narrowed. "You can't be serious. You're in charge of the balverines, yet they tore you apart?"

Alastor gave a tired semi-snort. "Most of them cannot help it," he explained. "It is Reaver's doing, thanks to the Control Crystal."

"Has he gotten hold of the Crystal again?" Remus asked, visibly paling.

"No," Alastor sounded lowly. "I destroyed it before he could have it again. I would see my kind extinct before traded back into the ancient Heroes' slavery magic."

"Then what causes the other balverines to be loyal to him?"

"A few higher-breed loyalists. He's killed off all but a handful of the ferals and lesser breeds, trying to bolster what little actual support he has. Some of them know nothing else, and choose to follow for that reason. But it is not only that…" his voice trailed off, square shoulders sinking solemnly. "Do you recall, Mr. Lupin, when I told you that in order to take control of the Hive as he did, Reaver had help when he slayed Lugaru?"

Remus nodded. "You said that he arrived with the Crystal, but that it was not enough to take complete control."

"Correct. Our hive, our packs - they all function based off of a hierarchy of breeds. Some breeds are older than others, closer to our great mother, the Balvorn. They are the leaders. But now and then, however, there are those of us created by specific circumstance that can… circumvent the hierarchy of our own breeds; they become alphas of alphas-Phenotype Alphas." He held up a hand when the slightest breath was made to interrupt him. "As I mentioned before, my breed is what made me immune to the effects of the Crystal. But I was not alone. For many centuries, it was myself, my friend Lugaru, and one other: Barry."

"Wait- Barry ?" Wash crinkled her nose, crossed her arms across her chest as her features dipped sharply in disgust. "As in, Barry Hatch ?"

Alastor almost looked surprised. "Ah, you know of that ginger little rat-hobbe?"

Wash's hair was loose and wavy and it bounced when she shook her head disapprovingly. "I only know of one balverine named Barry, and he's not a credible threat. He's a lone, greasy weasel who's not even worth hunting down."

"How do know of him?" Remus asked.

"He's a little ginger creep," the Lieutenant summed up, frowning only the way a woman who had dealt with an unpleasant man was capable of. "He thought he could try and make an easy go at some of our supplies a few years ago. Tried masquerading as a human, but then someone saw a balverine hunting in the woods outside camp. That's what gave him away in time for us to see right through him."

Anders looked to her. "How did that help?"

"His eyes," said Wash, pointing with her middle and index fingers to her own coal-like pair. "Barry's eyes don't match, not even as a balverine. There's nothing right about him. He's a womanizing cretin-not worth your bullets."

"Tactfully and accurately put," Alastor agreed with a grimace. It was the first common ground found. "And I thought the same for many decades. I tolerated Barry as one of our own for far too long. It was he who helped Reaver take control of the Hive-who betrayed us, and who allowed Lugaru to be slain. Before the dust fell on Reaver's new reign I drove Barry out of the Hive and into the wilds. He was so badly wounded that I made the mistake of thinking we would never hear from him again."

"But he came back." Remus nodded slowly as he pieced the new information together.

"Isn't that always how it goes?" Anders said, sighing in annoyance. "It's like these people never learn to just stay dead."

"As the Lieutenant's encounter confirms, Barry did not flee the area as I had hoped. I do not know how he evaded my packs for so long, and I intend to find out. Evidently, Barry is not as incompetent as he portrays himself to be. He was watching and waiting. When your group came along and we enacted our coup, Barry slipped into the Oasis using the chaos as a cover. He helped Reaver escape his cell. And together, they tried to kill Nadine and myself."

"That is far too convenient."

All eyes turned to Renkotsu, almost surprised at his presence.

"Reaver is a 'Hero of Skill' - a supposed master marksman. He never misses, or so he said as he executed our members." Renkotsu glared across the way at Alastor, searching the man's torso as if disbelieving the wounds truly existed at all. But the blood on his clothes was very real, if dried. Ren pursed his lips. "That a figure that has been banished for centuries would choose now to come back - now, when there are three newcomers to these woods who leave a wake of chaos - is far too convenient. You are Reaver's right hand, a balverine at the top of the hierarchy and power to match. Reaver does not miss ."

Alastor's yellow gaze was suddenly alight with an internal fire, and he stared at Renkotsu as though he wanted nothing more than to spread his blood across the walls. Behind his lips, Alastor sent his tongue darting across teeth which threatened to become daggers. "You are once again mistaken, monk . Reaver does not leave survivors who challenge that claim. The fact that Nadine and I are alive is more dangerous than any of you know. Reaver will stop at nothing to find us, and to find you three now that he has escaped," he added to Remus and Anders. "Make no mistake if you wish to survive: Reaver is coming."

"How can he?" asked Wash. "He's the Guardian of that Oasis. He's trapped there, isn't he?"

Alastor's face darkened, but he did not answer. The small, defeated sigh he gave was all the answer they needed.