Title: Resurrected, part 1

Fandom: Sanctuary

Characters: Henry Foss, Will Zimmerman, Bigfoot

Rating: M, for explicit allusions to nummy, sexy acts that we shan't mention outright. A few instances of strong, or suggestive language.

Summary: A tumultuous morning after leads to grief, but also honesty. Part 3 of the New Beginnings series. Follows my previous series set in the same verse: One door closes. Set before, during and after episode 9.

Warnings: This story is quite clearly Henry/Will slash, and happily so. If you're afraid of, or otherwise offended by, SLASH then; might I advise you to RUN, not walk, away as fast as your little underage, or otherwise insecure/bigoted legs can carry you? Thanks. That will be all. What? You're still here? Oh. Well, then. Have at it, if you will.

Notes: Some of the dialogue in the series will be taken directly from the episode's script. If you've watched it, you'll know exactly where it ends and my own begins. Subtext added by the author's fiery imagination for all things slash. Complete phrases or sentences in italics represent character thoughts. Single words italicized for emphasis. Title inspired by this quote:

Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
Chuck Palahniuk

Henry awoke with an expression of bliss on his face. His senses were full of Will Zimmerman. His scent was warm and pulsating as it wafted direct from the source with every sonorous heartbeat, every one of which Henry's ear pressed to Will's chest caught clearly. A whole subtler gamut of the man's scent now lingered all over Henry's skin, and he wasn't at all sorry for those dried up wet spots that had surely soaked into the bedding by now. He thought he might trade with Will for this mattress. Henry would never get rid of, so long as he lived, he thought. His eyes gazed upon the subtle swell of muscle of Will's chest, and he raised a hand to gently trace the dusky rose nipple in his line of sight. The solid pillow of flesh under him pushed against his face as Will took a deep breath.

"Hi," a breathy, throaty voice said that must have been Will's.

"Shh. Go back to sleep," Henry whispered.

Last night he had said no to Will, although there had been begging. Begging that had wreaked havoc on both his heart and his libido, but he had resolutely denied Will's request. He felt oddly embarrassed about it.

Even though I wanted to. I wanted to so much. I still do. But even though I can't believe I'm thinking this, I want to wait. I want it to be right. Maybe it's archaic, silly or antiquated. I can't help feeling stupid about it, because I had never felt the desire to... not do what comes naturally. This is different, though. It's Will. I want it to be special, I guess. Will is special. I don't want to go all the way with him because he's overwhelmed and his world is falling apart, or he needs to forget. I want him to... to... want to go on this trip with me. I want it to mean something, because it's Will. I know it's not 1950, but I don't wanna be just a fuck.

Will's sleepy croak broke Henry's reverie. "Can't. Awake now." He paused, and added, "...ish."

"Hm," Henry hushed. "Sleep." He turned his face to kiss Will's chest gently.

A big, sleepy smile spread across Will's face as he snorted. "Why are we whispering?" he whispered back, quoting a hundred comedies.

It made Henry chuckle.

The sound was very welcome to Will, who was having a hard time deciding what to do or say. He'd been awake for some time, trying to make sense of his many and contradictory feelings about what was happening between him and Henry and his being here this morning. He was at war with himself and plagued with the malady of over-thinking.

It was all so clear to me until the night before last. I could see everything, and it all seemed to fall into place. What's wrong with me now? Why did I let this happen again, if I'm having doubts? Well, duh. I know why. I killed Helen yesterday, and I was primed to implode if it hadn't been for Henry. Did I just use him, then?

No. We've done this before and, God, it was awesome, for sure. But now what? What right do I have to play with Henry's feelings like this? What if I don't feel the same? What if I can't ever feel the same? I should have never done this. But it felt so good to let go. He's so good to me, but am I any good to him? He's in a delicate place, and the last thing he needs is someone like me further destabilizing him. I can't shake the feeling that he would have gone through with the surgery if he thought I wanted him to. I don't want that kind of power over anyone. What have I done?

"Uh-oh," Henry said when he looked up and saw past the smile and into Will's tortured eyes.

Will didn't reply right away. He didn't know where to start.

"Will. William," Henry insisted. His heart sank. I've seen this movie. The ending always sucks for me. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asked mildly.

"Nothing," Will replied a bit too quickly. "I... ah..."

Henry swallowed slowly. His tone was careful. "Doesn't sound like nothing." See? We didn't even do the big P and he's still freaking out. Henry braced himself, because he knew that when faced with life or death situations, people tended to make hasty decisions about big issues, especially big issues dealing with matters of the heart, or worse, with their sexual identity. This could either be very good or end very, very badly. Will didn't strike him as the hasty decisions kind of guy, but then again: life or death.

"I feel like I've taken advantage," Will managed haltingly, his voice still hoarse. "I'm. You're wonderful, Henry. I've. I mean. What's happened between us..."

"Oh, God," Henry said. "Is this the part where you tell me you've decided you're a hundred and fifty percent straight after all and this was all a mistake? And can we just be friends? How am I doing so far?"

"It's not that," Will said uncertainly. "I just... I had no right..."

"To what? To have an amazing time? To enjoy your body with someone who... who cares about you, who's not a stranger?" Henry retorted passionately.

"The last thing you need right now, Henry, is someone who doesn't know what they want," Will replied sullenly.

"You're wrong," Henry countered, fully awake. His voice was a bit unsteady. "I can deal with you not knowing what you want. But the last thing I need is you pretending that we didn't really connect last night, and the times before." There. He had said it. There would be no willful denial on his watch. No, sir.

"I never said that. Last night was... my God, I don't even have words."

"So what's the problem, then? If you... so long as you're feeling good... why fuck a good thing up? What am I doing wrong here?" Henry pressed on, sounding increasingly upset.

"Nothing! You did nothing wrong, and that's the problem. You take nothing for yourself. Even when I offer... you stop me."

"Oh, I can't believe you just said that. What? You think I didn't take you up on your offer because I'm that selfless? Seriously?" Henry scoffed, exasperated. "Have you met me? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to control myself around you? But what you wanted... I told you, you weren't ready, and obviously I was right. If we'd gone all the way last night I wouldn't even be here now, would I? You would've kicked me out, or run and hid in your office."

Will felt his face redden with embarrassment. "Henry, I don't..." He shook his head and tried a different tack. "You need stability right now. That's something I don't know that I can give you. I don't even... I'm not even sure what's happening between us. Not to mention, after what happened yesterday, I need to decide if I'm really cut out for this job. I'm gonna need time to figure it out, to figure myself out, and I'm afraid you'll think I'm just giving you the brush off. And we both know it's a bad idea, us being co-workers and all."

"Oh, so you now you wanna play the selfless card? Bullshit. Don't tell me what I need, okay? Can you do that for me, ya think? And can the office romance b.s. too. We're not pencil pushers flirting over cubicles here. The usual rules were never gonna apply. Plus, I know what I want," he finished meaningfully, his eyes boring into Will's.

"Henry," Will protested weakly, and looked away.

"Tell me, then. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel anything when we're together, and I'll never bring it up again." Henry said, fiercely quiet.

"No." Anything? I feel way too much. I just can't figure out what it is I'm feeling. Will was running out of arguments. What was worse, he was running out of the will to argue.

"No, what?" Henry insisted earnestly, his heart about to break. Was that a no, I don't feel anything? Dammit, Will. Don't do this. Please, just... don't.

"No, I can't say that. See? This is exactly what I didn't want," Will mumbled. "Henry, please, calm down."

Henry's eyes flashed golden, and sharp pains stung his face as his ears elongated to points and his teeth stretched into fangs and back. "Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down!" he snarled through too many teeth. He then gasped and scrambled to turn away from Will until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, curled in on himself and breathing through his mouth. "D-don't see me like this," he whispered fiercely.

Will couldn't help the small, short cry the snarl in Henry's voice wrenched from him. In a heated flash, Henry's gentle features had become savage; otherworldly and beautiful in their own way; but frightening at the same time.

"Henry," Will said softly, reaching out to touch the man's back. Henry flinched away from his touch, gasping in pain from trying to control his change. He was blind with terror, thinking that in his anger, the beast would surely tear his beloved Will apart. He wanted to run away, fast, but he didn't think he could do that and hold back the change too.

"Go, Will. I can't... control it."

"No. Henry, you're not gonna hurt me," Will insisted stubbornly. "You won't hurt me. I trust you."

Henry let out an anguished sob. "Get away from me," he growled. His hands had turned to claws, and he could feel thick hairs pushing through his skin to the surface all over his arms and legs.

He got up and stumbled over to the commode lest Will touch him again. The damage he could do with those claws, he thought, and Will was so soft, so frail. He could smell his heat from here, he could smell the blood coursing through his veins. He saw his face in the mirror and he smashed it with sharp talons.

Will jumped off the bed to the sound of breaking glass and snapping wood. His hands were shaking, and he was breathing a little hard. Still, he tried to reason with Henry.

"It's okay, Henry. I know you would never hurt me," he said in the most even voice he could muster up. This was his fault. He had upset Henry by allowing this to happen between them. If Henry accidentally hurt someone now, he would never forgive himself, and neither would Will.

Henry didn't answer. He was too busy gouging deep grooves into the thrashed commode as he tried to keep it together long enough for Will to escape, but the stupid man wasn't running away yet.

"It's me, Will. Are you still there? Can you understand me?"

With a swipe of his claws, Henry tossed everything that was on top of the commode to the floor with a crash and a clatter, broken glass and all. He turned around violently with the sole purpose of getting Will away from him and to safety.

"GO!" he roared at the top of his lungs, shattering the last of Will's nerve.

Will scrambled back, the sudden, gut-wrenching instinctual terror shocking tears out of him. He hit his back against the door knob, and it took him several tries to unlock the door because his hands were shaking too much. He ran out, slamming the door behind him as Henry's bellows followed him down the hall.

TBC