Chapter two. Medicine

Dastardos suddenly shot awake, taking a deep breath as if he hadn't breathed in a while, which honestly he probably hadn't.

His head hurt... Badly.

As his mind caught up with what his horrible eyes were seeing he realised that Doc Patch was there, staring jaw-dropped at him and holding his wrist, almost as if checking for a pulse.

The reaper scowled and yanked his hand back, immediately on the defensive. Why the hell was Patch here?! Did he get dragged back to the clinic?! Seeing his nemesis' face first thing after waking up was NOT what he wanted to happen today. Or ever!

"What are you doing?" He hissed venomously, and the already nervous doctor flinched back.

"I-I was helping you..." Patch defended, his panicked expression dropping into a concerned frown, "are you o-okay? When I checked your pulse-"

Dastardos cut him off. "I don't need help!"

The snap made Patch flinch again and Dastardos took that as an opportunity to try and float out of the one bed in Patchingo's tiny clinic, he was sick of this place already. But then a mittened hand pushed him back down.

"W-Wait! You can't leave y-yet, I haven't even treated your w-wound yet!" the doctor protested, getting even more irritating.

Dastardos just glared at him as he went transparent and tried getting up again, this time phasing straight through Patch's hand. The doctor gasped at the sensation and pulled his hand away. Dastardos didn't really know what it was like for other people when he did that, not that he cared.

As soon as he was upright though, a sharp pain shot through his already aching skull, and his vision clouded as he started to feel lightheaded. Fuck, he was really injured this time, huh?

He must have stumbled because Patch reached out to steady him. He tried to slap his hand away but this time the doctor wasn't deterred and managed to gently push him back down.

Dastardos was FURIOUS. First some annoying young gardener knocks him out with one of those shovels, and then he gets stuck at his nemesis' stupid little clinic?! And no doubt this'll become the village's next big thing to gossip about too...

Patch had moved to get some bandages from a cupboard but Dastardos could tell the doctor was glancing at him every few seconds. The reaper huffed.

At least he'd shut up. He must have realised that Dastardos was going to argue with him no matter what. Which he was. Especially now that Patch was coming back, not just with bandages but also a damp cloth and what he assumed was some kind of disinfectant.

"Don't you dare!" he growled when Patch reached out, and he froze, but annoyingly didn't back off. Since when was this wimp so stubborn?

"B-But you're still bleeding..." Patch weakly pointed out, before cautiously reaching for his skull again, slowly this time, as if Dastardos were a feral piñata that could attack at any moment... Which wasn't inaccurate.

The reaper just glared at him as he considered his options, but Patch took his silence as an invitation instead of a warning and moved closer, reaching to start pulling his mess of hair away from the wound.

Dastardos reflexively grabbed his wrist, holding it in place with impossible strength, his grip so tight that Patch whimpered in pain.

"Don't. You. Dare." He growled again, more intensely than before.

"B-but-"

"It'll heal quickly on it's own anyway!" He added. He didn't really want to tell Patch anything about his accelerated healing but if it got him to leave him alone...

Patch paused, frowning as he thought about what he'd just said... Dastardos hoped he would actually listen this time, he preferred Patch when he was a pushover! Did he just not fear him as much after seeing him so helpless? Ugh, another reason to escape as soon as possible.

"W-well... I can still make you m-more comfortable-" Dastardos scoffed "-while you h-heal at least!" Patch said with a nervous smile.

"D-do you need anything? A blanket? An e-extra pillow? Food? Water?" Patch froze. "W-Water! I'll get you a glass of water." And before Dastardos could even process everything he'd said, Patch left the room.

"Finally..." Dastardos muttered, ignoring the dizziness as he forced himself to float out of the bed and out through the closest wall.

Getting back home in this state was annoying, and when he passed through the old garden he got some odd looks from that gardener Laura (which he pointedly ignored) and he couldn't tell if it was because of the blood or because he was floating weirdly... But whatever, despite what Doc Patch clearly thought, he got home just fine!

As soon as he pulled open the curtains in the entrance to his tree and floated inside, he was greeted by a loud, excited mess of green eyes and red paper fur.

Floated past the crowd of sour piñata trying to get his attention, he went straight to a set of shelves carved into the wall next to his fireplace, which had a big cauldron sat in it.

The sours calmed down a bit as he began rummaging through a shelf of bottled potions, recognising that he was busy.

He quickly found the potion he was looking for an pulled the cork out before drinking the whole thing at once. Immediately he felt significantly less dizzy. Heh, he'd like to see Patch's medicine do that!

His head still hurt though, and he could still feel his thick black blood oozing down his neck, but that problem was nothing some time and some rest couldn't fix.

Turning around, Dastardos saw a few of the sours had laid down to rest in a pile on the floor.

He had a hammock hanging high above him, but the pile sounded like a much better idea right now.

As he practically collapsed on top of a snoring mallowolf, the rest of the sours decided that whatever he was doing they wanted to do to, and before he knew it he was completely surrounded by piñata settling down to rest with him.

Shifting so he was more comfortable, he pulled a sweet out of his pocket, the buzzenge life sweet he'd taken from his neighbour's garden earlier.

He unwrapped it, and had to push away a macaraccoon trying to sniff it over his shoulder before popping it in his mouth.

Dastardos didn't eat, not normally at least... He wasn't Pester, he didn't do what he did out of greed, but being whatever he was he needed a very particular diet...

He kept that a secret. He didn't want any gardeners knowing any more of his weaknesses... Or Patch for that matter.

He rolled over as he chewed the sweet, closing his eyes. As he fell asleep he absentmindedly noticed that he'd stopped bleeding, and that the pain in his head was getting smaller...