Well shit
Bigby stared down the steps at the robber he'd been chasing. On his hip, the Homelands sword glinted. He really would prefer to not feel the bite of that blade - enchanted weapons could do some damage. He wouldn't know how much exactly until it got him, but that unpredictability made it as dangerous as if it were made of silver.
Which it still could be.
Either way, he didn't have his usual immunities so why was he even thinking about that when it was useless and he was wasting time-
'Nothing to say?' The man boomed, a cocksure grin showing off unnaturally white teeth, 'Such a dumb beast that you can't even talk?'
Bigby sighed. With the collar (and his opponents in possession of both a magic sword and a shotgun), he didn't fancy his chances in a fight. Which wasn't good for him; talking it out had never been his strong suit.
If someone else came out to help, however…
Bigby knew his new limitations better now, after being thrown around by Jersey. With some help, he could win this.
Hopefully Grimble hadn't gone straight back to sleep. Hopefully, he'd call Snow, get Bigby some backup. Hopefully.
With that in mind, he straightened, putting his hands in his pockets. Relaxed his shoulders, cocked his head and smiled lazily, 'You know who I am. I don't know you.'
'Saint George,' The man dipped his head, then gestured at Tweedle Dee, 'I think you've met my companion.'
Bigby hummed, examining Saint George. He definitely fit the description, and had been in the book of Fables not in Fabletown - a different Fable settlement attacking them? Or just a personal crusade?
He didn't remember coming across him. Not back in the Homelands, not in the Mundy world either. Then again, yet another knight in shining armour wasn't hard to forget.
More info. Clues. Leads.
If this was just an advance party, Bigby needed to know.
'Justice?' Bigby asked with a sardonic tilt to his voice, 'You've robbed people. Scared them, too.'
'Better than killing them,' George grinned, then shook his head and unsheathed his sword, 'Enough of this.'
Next to him, Dee cocked his shotgun.
A bang, hot air above him and Bigby had ducked just in time. Behind him, the shattering of glass and crunching of wood as metal pellets smashed into the door.
Fuck, he couldn't get out of this. Couldn't just tear his claws into them and be done with it.
The click of Dee pumping the shotgun and Bigby charged, leaping down the steps and landed in a roll. Sprang back up but he stumbled, hands on the floor to shove himself up and forwards. Dee was taking aim. The dull metal of the shotgun barrel followed Bigby as he sprinted towards them, only a few more metres away.
George's eyes glinted, just as cold as the blade of his sword, held out in front of him. Then he was stepping forwards, swinging it up. Bigby skidded to a stop and Dee's shotgun was there, that tube pointing right at him and he'd stopped moving, that must be an easy shot to make and-
Bigby leapt aside just as Dee squeezed the trigger. Hot, boiling pain exploded into his left shoulder and he staggered. George ran in, sword up, swinging down. Bigby fell backwards, barely keeping his feet under him and a line of dripping red appeared on his chest, the tip of the sword painted a bright crimson.
George kept on coming, blade a blur of silver and Bigby could do nothing but back up. Something against the back of his heel and he fell, back cracking against the rough stone steps and George stood above him, a maniacal grin exposing his teeth. Sword poised to spring down into Bigby's chest.
'What're you waiting for? Kill him!' Dee yelled, storming forwards, his knuckles white from gripping the shotgun.
Bigby glared and George just laughed.
'I was promised a fight,' He said, leaning back, stance relaxing, 'You're supposed to be tougher than even a dragon, Wolf!' He poked Bigby in the chest with his sword, nonchalant, 'I want a proper fight, you hear me? None of this pansy shit.'
A personal crusade, then? Didn't match up with everything else, but-
'Fight me!' George yelled, spit falling onto Bigby's face.
Dee appeared, gun held out, 'If you won't kill him-'
Bigby kicked out, kneeing George in the groin. A yelp of pain and Bigby shoved himself up, grabbing the winded man by the shoulders and twisting them, throwing his weight down the stairs.
Dee shot again and George juddered in his grasp, coughed up blood that splattered onto Bigby's face.
Then they landed at the foot of the stairs, the sword clattering away. George groaned, eyes rolling in his head, then snapped back into focus, staring up at Bigby. In an instant, his hands shot out, grabbing him by the neck. Squeezing.
Bigby pawed at George's face, searching for his eyes but he was shaken off.
'This,' George grunted, 'Is pathetic!'
He'd shaken off a shotgun shot. No problems - took the hit and then started strangling Bigby.
He couldn't do this as a human. He couldn't.
Snow was going to be the death of him.
From somewhere behind him, a scream.
George paused and Bigby sucked in a sweet breath of air. The darkness he hadn't even noticed creeping in fled from the edges of his vision and he shoved himself up. Got enough room between him and George, swung his fist into the man's stomach and he felt as his grip weakened further, until Bigby could break it and roll off of him, gasping for air.
He blinked up at the slowly-lightening sky for a moment.
Then there was another scream, this time a gurgling rattle.
Bigby groaned and shoved himself upright, only to see Snow White at the top of the stairs, framed by the slammed-open doors and wielding an elegant silver sword.
Before her, Dee kneeled. His shotgun lay off to the side, accompanied by a pool of blood and what looked to be… Fingers?
'Go,' Snow hissed, voice cold and eyes even colder as she glared down at Tweedle Dee.
In moments, it was just Bigby, Snow and Saint George.
'Bigby?' Snow was looking at him, that cold thawing just a little.
He nodded, stumbled up the steps to stand beside her. That sick feeling was making a return but he shoved it down mercilessly.
From the floor, George started to laugh, slowly righting himself to look up at them, 'Need your woman to defend you, Wolf?'
'Fuck you,' Bigby snarled. He wanted to growl, howl, anything but the pathetic words which were all he had access to! But swearing would just have to do.
A small hand on his arm - Snow's. She didn't look at him, but the gentle touch beat back the anger just enough that he stopped shaking with the force of it.
'Why are you here?' Snow asked, imperious and demanding an answer.
George's grin faded. Became a frown, 'You really haven't figured it out?'
'Explain as if we haven't.'
George snorted, 'I'll give you a clue. That,' He pointed at Bigby with his sword, 'Is a merciless killing machine you're keeping around like a pet. No. Worse. It's part of your fucking government.'
Snow stared for a second. Then it was her vibrating with rage, not Bigby, 'He has a name-'
'It's not even that!' Saint George interrupted, getting to his feet, ''The Big Bad Wolf'? That's not a name! You've got an animal as your Sheriff. You dress it up and give it a name so it isn't as scary-'
Bigby was numb. His stomach roiled and that dizziness was about to come back with a vengeance. It didn't help that the shit George was spewing made sense. A twisted sort of sense. But he didn't want to think about that. Not now, not ever.
Was that how the people of Fabletown saw him? A dressed-up dog?
'Why are you here?' Snow stalked forwards, sword held unwaveringly in front of her.
'Because you decided to give amnesty to these criminals! The Wolf and Bluebeard are just the worst of it,' Then he shrugged, 'I volunteered for this since your lapdog is more of a challenge than the last dragon I slayed.'
Bigby couldn't see Snow's face, but he could hear the disgust in her voice; 'You're from a Fable settlement? Why would they-'
'You've got the Wolf on a leash,' George said, 'Who's to say you wouldn't set it on the rest of us?'
'I would never-'
Bigby felt the world spinning. His stomach roiled and he groaned. The aches in his neck and shoulder and chest worsened and he was blank but for that pain, lancing through him at every slight movement.
Snow and George were yelling at each other. She was advancing, going down those steps and the clang of swords striking resounded. But Bigby just stood there, staring sightlessly at the floor as he fought to keep his meal down.
He didn't know how long passed. Everything was faint and he wasn't standing anymore, but sprawled on the cold floor and everything was too hot and-
A cool hand on his shoulder, shaking him.
'-igby? Bigby?!'
Snow. She sounded terrified.
He groaned, tried to look up at her but couldn't. Couldn't move.
'Are you alright?' She asked, grunting as she tried to roll him onto his back, 'What happened?'
Then Bigby could see the sky, then her face. Haloed with blue-black hair and two striking blue eyes looking down at him. Brow furrowed with worry. A slice of red down the side of her cheek, blood dripping from it.
'Shit, Bigby!' She was shaking him now, 'Snap out of it! I need you!'
He groaned again, then spasmed. Turned away and threw up the noodles he'd just eaten. Lay there gasping for a moment but managed to look up at Snow, offering what must've looked like a pathetic attempt at a reassuring smile, 'I'm good.'
She sighed but relief was clear in her eyes as she helped him up, 'I'm calling Swineheart,' Bigby opened his mouth to protest, but Snow shut him up with a glare, 'I am. You've been shot, choked and are throwing up again.'
'Saint George?' Bigby mumbled, stumbling over the words.
Snow smiled a little, 'I fought him off,' She looked away with a huff, 'He's not here for me, anyway. It's you he wants.'
'Yeah… Sorry 'bout that.'
'You have nothing to be sorry for!' Snow glared, shoving the broken doors aside with a bit too much force, 'It's his choice to be a bloodthirsty dick!'
Bigby snorted, 'He chose the right time for it. Without this collar he'd be dead.'
Silence.
Grimble sat as if rebar had been shoved up his arse. He watched them with his hat in his hands, pulling at threads and twisting them round his fingers. Snow helped Bigby to the lift, his uninjured arm slung over her shoulder until they got inside and she propped him up against the flimsy wall, jabbing at the button panel with too much focus. Something to do that wasn't looking at him.
A ding and the doors slid shut.
Snow glanced down at her watch. Then crossed her arms. Then uncrossed them.
Bigby didn't know what to say. Was this anxiety? Worry? Or just plain awkwardness? He couldn't tell. Didn't know what to say without being able to smell how she felt.
'I'm sorry,' Snow whispered.
He blinked at her, 'What for?'
She huffed, turning to glare at him, 'For the collar. For putting you in that situation! For being so scared of you when it's not your fault!'
Bigby stared back at her, speechless.
Then the doors cracked open with a ding. Snow grabbed him, slinging his arm over her shoulders and dragging him out into the corridor. Stormed down the dull hall until they reached the Business Office door, slammed it open and stumbled inside.
'You're… Scared of me?' Bigby whispered, head hanging so he didn't have to look at her.
Snow made a sound that was as close to a growl as a human could get, 'No! Maybe! I don't know!' She shoved him off of her and into a chair and backed up, started to pace, 'I know I shouldn't be. That you'd die before you hurt me. But I just can't help it!'
That…
It hurt.
But it made sense, too.
Then the roiling in his stomach raised its ugly head and he wretched up bile, body jerking.
'Crap,' Snow muttered, turned and grabbed the phone, 'Hang on, Bigby.'
Just as he started to hear the dial tone, the spinning turned to darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. Swineheart picked up, Snow started talking and Bigby fell from his seat. He was unconscious by the time he hit the floor.
AN: You guys are so lucky I'm procrastinating Important HomeworkTM right now. Otherwise, this chapter would not have taken just one day lol
