A week has passed since the day Tomas told Marcus everything. It was a week of peace, as if even God decided to finally let Tomas rest. He was hoping it wasn't the proverbial quiet before the storm, but Tomas was just grateful for getting a chance to breathe and get back some of his energy. He wondered how much difference did several nights of uninterrupted sleep make. For one, his appetite was back and even Olivia commented on his healthier look. It was a good thing too, because Tomas needed to be spending more time at Marcus's place and if he had at least good health to show for it, Olivia might relax a bit.

After that first day, which Tomas spent mostly sleeping or talking with Marcus about the things he wrote in the journal, Marcus and Peter tried to keep Tomas as far away from their little investigation as possible. Marcus resumed the lessons of Latin and except for an occasional enquiry of whether or not Tomas had a good night, there was no talk about demons, nightmares or visions. Tomas was grateful for that as well and enjoyed the time spent in study.

It was once again Friday and Tomas was in the living room of Peter's house, finishing up some of his homework while the guys were in the kitchen cooking dinner. At least he thought they were both cooking, even though he hoped Peter kept a closer eye on the food. Even in such short time, Tomas learned that there was one thing Marcus was abysmal at, and that was food preparation.

Tomas was lost in some math problem, biting at the end of his pencil in thought, when he heard a chuckle from the door.

"Dinner will be ready in five... but if you prefer, I have some charcoal in the next room," Marcus joked and Tomas looked up with a smirk.

"Depends. Who was in charge of cooking, you or Peter?"

Marcus gave him an offended look.

"I'm hurt at your insinuation of my lack of cooking skills."

"It's not insinuation if I had to drink a gallon of water afterwards to stop the burning," Tomas muttered under his breath, though there was still a playful smirk on his face. Marcus ruffled his hair and put some books on the table in front of him.

"Hm, here I am bringing gifts, and what do I get in return? Criticism. Really, today's youth..." He shook his head exaggeratedly and Tomas snorted, then sobered and looked at the books with interest.

"Presents?"

Marcus shrugged and sat down next to him on the couch, handing him the first book.

"Well, more like new study material, I suppose. Here."

Tomas looked at the title and his eyebrows went up.

"De exorcismis et supplicationibus quibusdam?"

"Of Exorcisms and Certain Supplications,"Marcus added the translation.

Tomas opened the book and looked through the pages. It was all in Latin with no English translation, a bit over his knowledge base, but he figured that wasn't that important right now. He was pretty sure Marcus would help him with the translations. Still, there was a frown marring his face and Marcus seemed to catch on that.

„Hey, if you don't want to, it's okay. I thought-"

"No, I just..." Tomas shook his head, looking up with uncertainty. "Isn't this good just for actual priests?" Tomas looked like he expected Marcus to laugh off the question, but instead he got a look of serious consideration and a small nod.

"You're right. Exorcism shouldn't be performed by a layman. Major exorcism can be performed only by an ordained priest for several reasons. Some are right; some are just a way of the church to keep things under control. Point is..." Marcus shook his head a bit. "I'm not expecting you to go out and exorcise demons. You don't have the Church's approval for that and I don't think you'll get into a situation where you will gain it anytime soon. But things aren't as cut and clear as they seem... the Church wants everyone to believe that they are the ones holding God's power. While in truth... God chooses his own vessels. Whether they are part of the Church or not doesn't matter."

Tomas looked at Marcus, taking in his words and feeling a chill creep up his back. Was Marcus insinuating that God chose him? How could he even believe that? If anything, Tomas would've thought he was stained by something much darker. Why would God give him such horrible visions if he couldn't do anything to stop them? It didn't make any sense and as Tomas held the book he half expected God to struck him with lightning but nothing happened.

There was a sad little smile on Marcus's face and he put a hand on Tomas's shoulder.

"It's okay, Tomas. Don't over think it. For now, take it just as something that may broaden your horizons. No pressure."

Tomas nodded and carefully put the book aside.

"Thank you," he said politely, his mind still a bit stuck on the whole idea of God being the one causing him all this anguish. Marcus must've seen it on his face, because he cleared his throat and Tomas found another book in his hands, this one much more familiar.

"Oh, I already have this," he said, confused. It was the first play Marcus gave him and he still had the copy in his room. Marcus chuckled.

"Yes, but that one is used and full of my crappy drawings. I thought you might enjoy a brand new copy of your own instead."

"T-thanks," Tomas said, but he was even less enthusiastic about the present than he was about the last book and Marcus raised an eyebrow, giving Tomas's shoulder a small squeeze.

"Hey, what's the matter? I know most kids aren't that enthusiastic about books, but you seemed to like that one."

"It's not that," Tomas shook his head, trying to explain himself. The last thing he wanted was to offend Marcus or seem to be ungrateful. "I like the book very much... especially because it is used. I like your drawings."

"Oh." This time it was Marcus who looked surprised, almost stunned. He obviously wasn't all that used to someone complimenting his drawings, even though Tomas was sure Peter did it often. But Peter was something different. "I hope I wasn't drawing something kinky there," Marcus spoke, his voice a bit choked but also tinged with humor. Tomas chuckled.

"No, don't worry. Mostly just birds and trees. It's... it's hard to explain." Tomas threw up a hand, suddenly frustrated.

"Hey, no judgment from me. I'm happy you like my art. Keep the book, hell, I'll be happy to give you some of my drawings if it'll make you happy."

Tomas paused, the idea of having one of Marcus's drawings in his room sounding rather good. Marcus knew how to draw after all and Tomas often found himself drawn to the pictures all around the house. But a drawing on the wall couldn't be put under his pillow; he couldn't keep his hand on it all the time while he slept.

"I'd like to keep the book if it's no problem," he said a bit sheepishly. Marcus smiled.

"Of course. I'll keep this copy and maybe decorate the pages as well. So... you like birds and trees? Just so I know what to get you for your birthday," Marcus said then seeing the surprised look on Tomas's face quickly added: "Just joking. Don't worry. I'll get you something else." Marcus winked and Tomas let out a sigh, worrying at his bottom lip.

"I didn't explain it right, Marcus. I... I like your art, your drawings are very nice, but... it's something else." Tomas watched Marcus's face, trying to gain his thoughts and hoping he wasn't offended, but all he could discern was sudden intrigue and a slight nod nudging him to continue.

"Is there something special about the book?" Marcus asked, trying to figure out what was Tomas hinting at.

"Kind of," Tomas admitted. "You know how I told you about the colors around people?"

Marcus nodded a hint of worry appearing in his eyes but it vanished before Tomas could really notice it.

"Well, sometime things have colors too. Especially things that are dear to people. Like your drawings..." Tomas waved his hand in the direction of several drawings hanging on the wall. For Marcus, it was just black charcoal on white paper. For Tomas, every line was tinged with a hint of gold, accentuating the shadows. If he came close enough, he could almost feel the warmth seeping through.

"It's like when you draw, you are pouring some of your energy into the paper. And it stays there, even after you finish. I can... I can tell which drawings mean the most to you, because they are shining so bright." Tomas chanced a look at Marcus, hoping he wouldn't see ridicule or something worse, disbelief. He felt only relief when all he saw was awe. Swallowing, Tomas cast his eyes down towards his hands that were now idly playing with the pencil he didn't even remember grabbing.

"The book... it helps me sleep. It's not as bright or strong as some things here," Tomas's eyes landed on Marcus's hand and the bracelet with the medallion of St. Benedict. He had to squint when looking at that bracelet and Marcus seemed to catch his eyes, because there was a hand on his chin and Tomas found himself looking into Marcus's blue eyes.

"Tomas? You okay?" There was worry in the voice and Tomas thought maybe he spaced out a bit. Swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat, Tomas nodded.

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, kiddo. You were saying the book helped you sleep?"

Tomas nodded again, finding it a bit hard to form words. He suddenly felt like a small kid needing a comfort blanket and he didn't want Marcus to think less of him for that. But Marcus didn't seem to be disgusted, more interested than anything.

"How does it help?" he asked and there was true curiosity in his voice. "Tomas?"

"I don't want you to think I'm a baby or something," Tomas muttered and he heard a sigh, then felt Marcus's palm on his cheek.

"I would never think that, Tomas. With all that's going on, I'm absolutely stunned you're handling things as well as you are. I'm proud of you and nothing you say will change that."

Tomas looked at Marcus, the words causing something long forgotten to stir in his stomach. A warm feeling, one he hadn't felt ever since his Abuelita died. Not since last time she looked at him with eyes filled with love and pride over his school achievements. Tomas didn't know what to say, the look on Marcus's face making him suddenly too emotional. He took a deep breath and looked away, muttering a quiet 'gracias'.

"De nada," Marcus said with a smile then became serious again. "How does the book help you sleep, Tomas?" he repeated the question and Tomas found himself shrugging.

"It's full of your drawings," he said softly. "It shines and if I touch it, I can feel the warmth... it's like being close to you... to your energy. It just... it keeps the nightmares at bay. Not always, but... it makes it a bit easier to keep the shadows at bay. They don't like you."

Marcus chuckled a bit at the last part and Tomas chanced a small smile.

"I shall hope so," Marcus said with a smirk, then appeared to be thinking over something. "So... it's a bit like being in this house?"

Tomas nodded.

"Like taking a bit of you with me, I suppose," he said, then blushed. It didn't come out right. "The light... your light I meant. God's touch."

Frustrated, Tomas shook his head.

"Hey, relax. I think I know what you mean," Marcus said and Tomas could see he was playing with the bracelet on his arm, trying to take it off. Tomas frowned, wanting to ask what he was doing, but Marcus was quick and managed to untie the bracelet. He looked at it for a moment then looked at Tomas.

"Which arm do you prefer?" he asked simply and Tomas opened his mouth in surprise.

"But... that's yours," he said stupidly.

"Yes, and now I'm giving it to you. You said things that have meaning shine the strongest. Does... will this work for you?" Marcus looked suddenly a bit uncertain.

"Yes, but... I can't take that. If it means so much to you, I can't..."

"Tomas, it means so much to me, because I had it for the longest time. It's a medallion with St. Benedict; it's for protection from evil. I think you can use it more than I."

Tomas was still speechless even though he moved his left arm feebly towards Marcus, allowing him to tie the bracelet on his wrist. The leather band was warm and snug and the medallion felt like a calming breath on his skin. It was warm and it shone and Tomas couldn't stop looking at it. It was as if the picture of the Saint had a real halo above his head and as Marcus closed his hand over the bracelet and Tomas's wrist, Tomas could feel the warmth seeping into his bones, deep and calming.

"T-thank you," Tomas choked out. "I really don't know what to say..."

"Hey, it's okay. I can always get a new bracelet. If it will help you sleep and maybe keep some demons away, it's the best present I ever gave." There was a small tap on Tomas's chin and he saw the honest smile on Marcus's face.

Tomas felt an overwhelming urge to just hug the man and before he knew he did just that. Marcus seemed to anticipate it though because there was no tension, only a welcoming open arm.

"Dinner will be served in five," came Peter's call from the kitchen and Tomas pulled out of the embrace, running his hand over his suddenly teary eyes. He wasn't going to cry over something like getting a present, he was not.

"Okay, go wash up. I don't know how you did it, but there are some pencil marks on your chin," Marcus said with a smile and Tomas was grateful he didn't mention the fact the shirt where Tomas rested his face was suddenly a bit damper than it was before. Tomas just nodded and without a word ran up the stairs towards the bathroom. If he heard Marcus clear his throat chokedly on his way out of the room, he didn't find the courage to acknowledge it.


Peter was sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and looking at his watch. It was the second time in just a week he visited this place, both times to see his old pal Luke; who was currently running 30 minutes late, not that Peter was counting. He was just hoping that after their last talk Luke would come in alone with information and not with a team to drag Peter off to the station for an interrogation. 'Speaking of the devil' Peter thought than grimaced, the title hitting a bit too close to home.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Luke said and sat down on the bar stool next to Peter. Luke was tall and muscular, dark skinned and only a year older than Peter. If Luke hadn't been straight as a nail Peter would have crushed on him hard ever since they met as teenagers. As things were, Luke was a good friend and Peter never regretted it. They knew each other from way back in school, trained together to get into the army. But where Peter was accepted, Luke had to pull out his application. His younger sister was just diagnosed with cancer and there was no way he was leaving her alone. So instead of the army, Luke enrolled to the police academy. Peter still stayed in touch and after returning from Afghanistan, Luke was one of the few people that didn't act strange around him. While they weren't hanging out that much lately and Peter still had to introduce Luke to Marcus, when Peter called him last week to get some drink and talk, Luke came.

That night a week ago went a bit weird as was expected. Peter didn't have a clue how to breach the subject of the murders or Tomas. He wasn't even sure Luke was in a position to offer him some information, but he had to try.

First they caught up on personal lives, on common friends and family. It was actually at the mention of Luke's little niece when Peter spoke about Tomas. He started talking about the kid without thought, the corner of his lips turning up into an involuntary smile as an image of a content Marcus slipped into his mind. It was an image of Marcus chatting with Tomas in their living room and looking happy, the last of the pain that was clouding his eyes since they first met and Peter learned about Gabriel finally gone, or at least pushed so far back it couldn't be seen. Helping Tomas was helping Marcus heal as well and Peter was willing to do anything to make his partner whole again. The fact the kid was growing on him as well was just an added bonus.

So Peter told Luke about a kid his partner brought home and practically adopted as a stray cat. Luke laughed and shook his head, taking a sip of his beer.

"You really need to introduce me to this partner of yours."

"You're welcome to stop by anytime," Peter said with a small smile which vanished in the next moment. It was time to broach the topic he came for. "Uh so, enough about my love life. How's work? Any interesting cases you're working on lately?"

Luke's eyes narrowed a bit.

"Any particular case you have on mind?" he asked and Peter grinned. Luke was nothing if not perceptive and very blunt. Which could have made this meeting either very easy or very problematic.

"Am I that transparent?" Peter wondered out loud and Luke chuckled.

"Well, you usually don't look this tense when going for a drink, unless something's bothering you. It's not your love life or work, because we talked about the former and the latter is boring as hell. So spill."

"Do you remember our math teacher, Mrs. Williams?"

"That old loon? The one with five cats who could add up any numbers in the world within a second, but thought there were ghosts living in her attic?" Luke's eyes went up and Peter grimaced at the very real description of their teacher.

"Yes. The same 'old loon' who always knew when it would rain and told Amelia Carter two days before her car accident not to drive for at least a week."

"What are you trying to say? Except for the fact she probably had arthritis and had seen the way Amelia drove her car."

"Maybe. Or maybe she really had some 'sixth sense'. Who knows." Peter shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't tell me you believe in that nonsense."

"I've seen so much stuff overseas, Luke... knowing a girl would crash her car few days prior wouldn't surprise me at all," Peter sighed, remembering a young man who had a week until the end of his tour. The man was always in good mood and happy but turned into a scared boy, writing a letter to his family just few hours before a bullet tore through his skull. Somehow, the kid knew what was coming.

Peter took another sip of his beer then realized his glass was empty. He raised a hand to the bartender and waited until another glass was put in front of him. Luke in the meantime watched him, thinking.

"What's really going on, Peter?"

"I might have some information about the mass murder of those families a few weeks back," Peter spoke, eyes focused on the beer. He still sensed Luke tensing, all mirth gone from his face. He was back to business and Peter knew there was no going back.

"What information?"

"Are you working on the case?"

"No, but that doesn't matter. The case is a shitstorm waiting to happen. If the force doesn't get some clues, any clues, the media will have a field day. Not to mention the riots that are already happening."

"What if I told you I have a witness that is able to describe what happened, yet he wasn't anywhere near the place?"

Luke gave Peter a considering look then rubbed the bridge of his nose in a clear attempt to steer off a headache.

"I have a feeling I'll regret this, but... we are kind of desperate. So yeah, go ahead. Is this hearsay? Or an actual witness?"

Instead of trying to relay details from memory, Peter pulled out several sheets of paper where he printed out the most relevant parts copied from Tomas's journal. He pushed them towards Luke and waited patiently until the man read through them. He watched Luke's eyes turn cold, fingers turning pale from clutching the glass with beer.

"What the hell, Peter? This reads like an eyewitness account. What bullshit are you trying to pull on me?"

"No bullshit, Luke," Peter raised a placating hand. "I swear on my mother's grave, this is real."

Luke shook his head in disbelief.

"This is described from the view of someone right there, Peter. And I can assure you, there was no one there who survived that massacre outside of the killers. So I repeat my question, what the hell is this?"

Peter swallowed, knowing this was the moment he feared the most, the moment that could land all of them in deep trouble.

"Do you believe in visions, Luke?"

Peter expected a wide stare or anger. He didn't really expect the laughter, but he supposed it was better than some of the alternatives. So he waited until Luke stopped laughing and focused back on him, his face turning into that look of disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn man, banging an ex priest really messed you up."

This time it was Peter who chuckled and shook his head.

"Believe it or not, this didn't come from Marcus."

"Who then? Did you suddenly become a psychic?"

"No. Listen, I... I think I can help you with the case, but... I need you to promise something."

Luke's face was all business now and Peter saw the moment of hesitation, before years of friendship won over and Luke nodded.

"Let me explain everything... without judgment. And promise me you'll give it all due consideration before doing anything rash. It's... there are lives at stake, lives of people I care about."

It was testament to how deep their friendship was that Luke made the promise and heard out everything Peter had to say. It was even more telling that Luke promised to look into things before making a decision that could put Tomas in jeopardy. So they parted, both men hoping they would soon get answers to their questions.

As Luke sat down on the barstool next to Peter this second time, his face serious and humorless, Peter knew his worries were real. That the things Tomas wrote in his journal were real. He just wasn't sure what it all meant for their future or how he and Marcus could help the boy to stop the nightmares that came to life.