Chapter 63
The first sparring session was brutal.
Abigail had gotten the hell knocked out of her, after assuring Victoria it was alright. Steve had to hold Mark back while this happened, and they had a crowd surrounding them. No matter how many times she was hit, Abigail managed to stand back up and took another hit, moving her hands in a 'bring it' gesture. A half an hour later, she finally went down and spit blood out, knowing Victoria was just aiming for her face, not any other body part. The dress would cover everything except her face, which was now heavily bruised, her bottom lip cut, and a slice was horizontal on her eyebrow.
"Are you gonna make it?" Victoria helped her up, knowing it was weird for her to help Abigail up after she just beat the hell out of her. "You need to rest. Eat and rest, gather your strength."
"Thanks for doing this." Abigail spat more blood out since her teeth cut the inside of her cheek and felt Mark come to her aid instantly.
"You're fucking lucky, she was holding back." Taker said gravely, studying the damage to Abigail's face. She was already swelling, bruising… "I'd offer you ice, but we don't have any." He doubted she'd take it anyway and groaned. "I don't suppose you want something for the pain, darlin'? Whiskey maybe?"
Taker needed a drink, or three. Abigail was going to have a scar for sure through that eyebrow. She was lucky Victoria had been holding back, especially since those blows had been aimed at the face. She should've swallowed some teeth and probably have broken cheekbones… He didn't like this, at all.
"No, some food would be good though."
Stew would be easy to eat, no chewing required. Abigail was lead back to their tent and laid down while Mark went to get her some stew, her fingers touching her bottom lip. It would all be worth it in the end. She had to keep reminding herself of why she was doing this, allowing this, and shut her eyes, taking deep breaths to deal with the pain. By the time Mark returned, Abigail was out like a light, breathing steady and her face was one big mess of blue, purple, and brown. She didn't feel Mark put some whiskey on her split lip or the cut on her eyebrow, too exhausted to move. Tomorrow's trip was not going to be fun, but at least Victoria only struck her face, nowhere else.
Abigail looked like a hot mess the next morning and Taker was very tempted to start putting salves on her face. When he tried, she waved him off, saying it needed to look real and raw. He was going to lose his mind. Camp was torn down quickly and they were all back on the road soon enough and he really hoped she was able to hold on because they weren't making stops every 3 hours. He was tempted too, because of her, but at the same time, that was only prolonging this torment and letting Wyatt get even closer to Wonderful. She was both the bravest and the craziest woman he had ever known.
"Taker! What is that?!"
Abigail pointed in the distance, a few hundred feet away, and felt him slow down, her eyes widening. Hopping off the bike before it completely stopped, she stumbled a little, but remained on her feet and rushed over to the scene. Dropping to her knees at the sight of none other than Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose.
"They need help! Someone help them!" It'd been 3 days since they were on the road and over a week since Dean, Seth, and Roman left. Roman Reigns was nowhere to be found, only Seth and Dean, who both didn't look so good. "Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Dean…" She covered her hand with his bloody one, tears filling her eyes. "Oh my god…"
"You look like shit, babe." Dean managed to get out through bloodstained, gritted teeth, hissing as he tried drawing in a breath.
"Taker, he needs help, bad." Seth was beaten and battered, but nothing like Dean. "Dean, c'mon man, suck it up, bro." He tried joking, moving so Abigail had to back away or get hit with his body. "Get up, help is here, man."
"Someone get Matt." Taker actually wished Jeff was with them, but… he wasn't. "Seth, don't move him. Steve, have them set up camp."
He surveyed Seth and Dean, taking note of Seth's twisted upper body, the limp way his right arm hung. Broken shoulder and maybe collarbone, for sure. Ambrose had blood seeping out of his mouth and his eyes were… not good.
"Abigail, get people to help you set up our tent, and get your first aid bag, darlin'." They were going to need her steady hands and, even then, he wasn't overly confident.
"They're… coming… Taker…" Oh, that hurt, Dean felt like laughing, but he couldn't.
Nodding at Mark's command, Abigail immediately stood up and swallowed hard. "Dean, you stay strong, you hear me?"
She rushed off to grab her bag, the pain she was in the last thing she was worried about. Breathe, get it together, she mentally coached, hoping like hell Dean, Seth, and Roman hadn't outed their plan to Bray. It was obvious the DOV had gotten their hands on them, but why hadn't Bray recruited them? Why had he tortured them this way? Frowning, Abigail quickly rushed back to Dean, setting her bag down, and helped Victoria with their tent while Taker assembled the others. It was 15 minutes later they were in the tent with Dean and Abigail finally cut away the shirt he had on, her eyes widening at how much damage was done.
"Dean…" This time when she said his name, her voice cracked.
Matt did not have to be a genius to know what this was. "He's bleeding internally, unchecked." Because Abigail was in training, he tried to focus on that and not the fact that he knew this man personally. "Broken ribs, something is punctured… immense bruising of the skin is the key indication of that. How long since this happened?"
"Few days, maybe, I don't know… I've been in and out, and he's mostly been out."
"Blood in the mouth…. swollen abdomen…" Matt rubbed his temples, eyes finally narrowing in on the chest. The left side was very sunken, heavily bruised. "Punctured lung."
"Now give me the good news." Dean chuckled harshly, turning his head to let the blood spill down the side of his face instead of right back down.
Nobody looked like they wanted to say it and his eyes were on Abigail. She was obviously sorting all of this out in her head, slow to reach the morbid conclusion. "You're dying, Dean." He said finally, quietly.
"Hate to know what you think bad news is…" He hissed, feeling hands adjusting him, propping him.
"We can make him comfortable, but… an hour, maybe." A mercy killing was something to consider because this was a very painful way to go.
"DOV caught us," Seth said, coming around to sit by Dean's head, his eyes on his friend, even as Matt came around to start tending to him. "Roman… Roman was going to sell you all out and Dean…" He let out a low pained cry when Hardy wrenched his arm back into its proper place.
Taker moved to help hold Seth still so Matt and Abigail could bind that arm in place, to let the bone heal correctly.
"Dean-O wasn't… having it…"
Dean saved her…again. After all the horrible things she said to him, he still saved and protected her. Abigail was having a hard time digesting the fact Dean was dying. Dean was going to die. No, no…this couldn't be happening! Wasn't there something they could do?! Magic, couldn't magic spare his life?! Abigail went to get up and felt Dean grab her hand, with all the little strength he had left, her eyes meeting his.
"Dean…" She sank back down beside him, shaking her head. "Why? Why did you…sacrifice yourself? Why did you…protect me?" It was because of her…this was all happening because of her; his blood would eternally be on her hands.
"Had…to…you're…my…girl…" Dean said slowly, pausing in between harsh breaths, and cupped her face in his bloody hand. "Listen to me…Abs…they're coming…they're coming for you…and you have to…fight…because…" He winced, groaning out, and felt her hand on his chest, his eyes only for her at this moment.
"I am…I am going to fight. We all are. We're taking them down, they're all going to pay for what they've done and I will avenge your death, Dean. I promise. Who is the one who hurt you? Name him."
"That…Luke Harper…is a bastard…" More coughing ensued.
Luke fucking Harper again. He would not live to breathe one more day on Vesperia once they caught up to them. "He'll pay. I swear to god he'll pay for this…"
"I…love…you…Abigail…Waters…"
He was gone. Abigail watched him take his last breath, his hand falling from her face and his last words were to her, revealing how he truly felt. Instead of breaking down and sobbing, Abigail felt anger swelling inside of her, her eyes darkening to nearly black pools. Bray was going to pay for this. The DOV was going to pay for everything, including Dean's death. Kissing his forehead, Abigail stood up and walked out of the tent, not caring that it was pouring down rain, soaking her completely through. She looked down, the blood on her hands, her arms, Dean's blood, slowly washed away in the pouring rain and all she could do was stand there, screaming internally, but completely calm on the outside.
"Boss?"
"Bring me water and soap, I'll clean him." Taker said quietly, reaching down to gently close Dean's eyelids. He may not have liked the man, but he definitely respected him. "Seth, do you have a preference on how the body is disposed of?"
"He'd… he would've found it cool to be burned. You know, like pirates at sea, or old Vikings, that kind of thing." Seth wiped away a tear, feeling arms helping him up.
"Matt?"
"Yeah, boss?" Matt stopped from leaving the tent.
"We'll need dry wood, under a tarp."
"Boss… it's pouring cats and dogs…"
"Keep the wood dry and I'll handle the rest. Malcolm can help." Magic could be used for this, it was the very least they owed Dean.
"Abigail…" Malcolm placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, knowing she wasn't in the mood to talk, but he wanted to be there for her regardless. "The alter is almost ready, my dear." He spoke quietly, feeling her tense and had done as requested of him by his son to help with Dean's fiery funeral.
"Malcolm." Abigail didn't turn to face him, her arms remaining at her sides while staring out at the long stretch of land, the body of water they were currently camped in front of. "Luke Harper is the one who killed Dean. I know he hurt Susan badly, but she's still alive. He's not. Do you understand what I'm saying?" She was going to be the one to take Luke's life now, not him.
"Yes…I understand." Malcolm didn't like it, but this poor woman had been through so much and, if she wanted to take that bastard's life, he wasn't going to stop her. "If you can't get to him, though…"
"Ice him for me, then, only if I can't get to the bastard first."
"Understood."
"Thank you."
"Dean was a good man, Abigail. He died a noble man and I know you don't want to hear that, but…it's the truth. He died with you and I'm sure that's the way he would've wanted to go because he did love you."
Tears stung her eyes as Abigail fought back the pain, the agony, the heartache as she wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I loved him too. Just not the way he wanted me to." She was a terrible person for it too. "Did he tell you that on our way back from the castle?" Her eyes closed when Malcolm nodded, which in turn made her feel worse.
Waving his hand, Malcolm brought a blanket from inside one of the tents and wrapped it around her, not wanting her to catch sick since it was still raining. "Take a minute to yourself and then join us for Dean's funeral."
"Yes, sir."
It was crazy, Steve thought, watching as Taker finished cleaning Dean's pretty fresh corpse up. And he had gone the full nine yards, taking care of everything. Bodies got weird and messy when people died. Taker had just handled it like he did this every day. When he was finished, he had wrapped Dean in a black sheet and Steve helped to lift the body. Malcolm was warding off the rain, it was kind of neat to see. Like a giant, invisible umbrella, deflecting it off the pyre he had ordered built. Ranks had been formed around the pyre and he spotted Abigail pushing her way through, his heart tugging at the devastation on her face. He bet grief wasn't the only thing consuming her; she and Dean hadn't parted on good terms.
Guilt. It was nearly consuming her and the only thing stopping her from hopping on that pyre built for Dean was she wanted to see the life die in Bray and Luke's eyes. She wanted to see the destruction of the Dominion once and for all. Dean's parting words were he loved her…she would not disappoint him and avenge his death, by any means necessary. If only they had more time, she would've apologized for being a colossal bitch to him the last time they were together. Why couldn't magic save him?
Abigail had thought magic was a cure-all this whole time, but…reality slapped her in the face again. It wasn't. There were limitations to magic and saving lives was that limitation. She stood as close to the fire as she possibly could, her eyes not leaving the flames and the smell of human flesh burning infiltrated the air. Abigail didn't care, she would stay until every last bit was burnt to the ground, no matter how long it took.
Long after others had left, Taker remained standing just behind her. His head bowed, hands clasped before him as he listened to the crackling of the fire. Malcolm had remained as well, and he lent his own magic to the spell the old man was casting to allow this. Magic was draining, and Malcolm would need his strength in the days to come. Eventually, he moved to feed the fire, knowing how hot it would need to get to incinerate everything. He had been here before, a fire, so hot it left nothing but ash, even the bones nothing but ash. In the event the fire got out of control, all they needed to do was release the spell.
"Abigail," He said quietly, moving to stand behind her again, this time closer. "There wasn't anything you could have done, and… I think that would have been the way Ambrose wanted to go out."
"Malcolm said the same thing, but you both are wrong. Dean didn't want to die. Dean didn't deserve this…" Abigail looked down at her hands, which were no longer stained in Dean's blood, but felt it was still on her anyway. "I'm going to kill every last one of those son of a bitches, Bray and especially Luke Harper, included. I'm going to make them all suffer. I will avenge him. He was my friend and I loved him like a friend. I know his love for me was different, but that doesn't change the fact I cared about him and I will NOT let his death be in vain." She turned around, the tears drying up and such coldness filled her eyes, it felt like ice water ran through her veins. "We have work to do, Mark…and we're not stopping until the violence, bloodshed, and the DOV ends."
"Darlin', nobody wants to die and I doubt anyone is ever ready to go." This was not his first rodeo, he had been through more deaths than he could count sometimes. "But if he would've had a say, I think protecting you would've been how he'd want to do it."
Stepping towards the raging flames, he steeled himself and reached through them, channeling the magic inside of him. Taker pulled his fist out, turning towards her. Unburnt but his skin was laden with ash, black with it, and when he opened his hand, palm up, inside was an electric blue teardrop crystal. Malcolm hadn't been the only one learning tricks in that forge, he had been paying attention to his father's ramblings.
"Here." He held it out to her. "This way you'll always have a piece of him with you."
Hesitantly, she took it and watched it glow in her hand and let the fresh hot tears in her eyes slide down her cheeks. "Thank you." She whispered, unable to use her actual voice at the moment, and watched as he procured a necklace from his pocket. "What are you…?" With magic, he hooked the crystal to the chain and put it around her neck to wear, the stone resting just over her heart. It was a very small crystal and could easily be passed off as a gemstone of some kind. "I-I didn't want him to die protecting me…" She buried her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly, crying her heart out and letting all of her emotions pour forth. "I-I don't want anyone…dying for me…protecting me. Damn it, Dean…I'm so sorry…"
Taker didn't really have words to comfort her with, nothing he hadn't already said anyway. He and Dean hadn't seen eye to eye on magic, amongst other things, so there was more than a hint of irony in that he had used magic to do this thing for her. Something told him Dean would have laughed that damned hyena laugh of his in glee. He simply held her, resting his head on top of hers, his eyes never leaving that burning pyre. Roman Reigns had tried to sell them out to save his own ass and was now dead. Dean had stopped Roman, but at the cost of his own life.
And he had done it all for Abigail.
