A/N: Part 3 of the story, still stuck on episode 3. More notes on the end. I hope you'll enjoy.

By the time they reached the motel, Tomas was lightly dozing on the passenger seat. Marcus wasn't planning to wake him before they got a key, but turning off the engine was incentive enough. Tomas blinked and looked around with some confusion. It was late at night and there were only few street lamps lighting the road and the unfamiliar building.

"What's going on?" he asked sleepily and Marcus wondered if he was confused from waking up or if it was because of the concussion.

"At the motel. You okay?"

"Yeah, sure," came the answer even as Tomas winced and reached for the door. "Want me to get a room?"

During their six month journey it was usually Tomas who took care of the motel, the collar often bringing a warmer reaction and fewer questions.

"No, I'll take care of that. Stay in the car."

"Why?" Tomas paused, the confusion showing on his face and Marcus rolled his eyes.

"There's still blood on your face," he explained, pointing at his own face. "Right now, my tired old mug looks less suspicious than your bruised one."

"Oh," Tomas gingerly touched his face and felt the flakes of dried blood on his skin and hair. "You might be right on this one," he admitted, receiving a snort in reply as Marcus left the car.

Five minutes later they were both inside a warm apartment.

"We have our own kitchen, fantastic." Marcus stated and went to look inside the fridge. It was of course empty except for some bottled water, but there was also a stove and a microwave. "I can cook us some breakfast in the morning."

"As long as you get to buy the eggs," Tomas muttered, looking around. Once again they had to share a room with two beds, though there was also a comfortably looking couch in the living room. While usually Tomas didn't mind sharing a room, he had a feeling tonight would be anything but peaceful for him. Maybe he could just fall asleep on the couch and let Marcus have a quiet night. As if reading his mind though, Marcus headed right for the couch and flopped down on it, bones creaking and all, not leaving much space to share.

"Think I'll grab a shower and lie down," Tomas said with a sigh, heading towards the bathroom, when Marcus' voice stopped him.

"No shower!"

"What?" Tomas turned around, a little bit miffed. "You wanna go first?" he asked with a confused frown, only to get another eye roll. Man, if Marcus continued with the eye rolling Tomas would get dizzy just from that.

"No, you idiot. The doctor super glued the wound on your head... you're not supposed to shower a few days. Or at least not get the wound wet." Because not showering a few days in their type of work and living in close quarters with another bloke was quite out of the question.

"Oh. I forgot," Tomas admitted, then frowned. "I doubt the doctor used Superglue though."

Marcus shrugged the smirk back on his face.

"They used it in the war, so who knows." Marcus stood up, stretching his back then headed towards the door. "Just wash up and go to bed, I'll wake you in few hours, to make sure your brain isn't leaking."

Tomas wanted to answer 'Yes, father,' just because it seemed so ridiculous getting ordered to bed, but thought better of it. That would open a whole new can of worms.

"Where are you going?"

"We haven't eaten the whole day, if I don't count that junk food in the hospital. There's a 24/7 around the corner, I'll grab us something to eat. Anything you'd like?"

The thought of food slightly turned Tomas' stomach, so he grimaced and shook his head.

"I'll pass, thanks. Maybe tomorrow."

Judging from Marcus look, the 'maybe' tomorrow was not going to be accepted. Shrugging it off, Tomas walked to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror just as the front door closed shut, so Marcus didn't hear the muttered swear when Tomas got a first good look at himself. Now he understood why Marcus didn't want him to go to the front desk. The bruise looked vile and the dried up blood didn't help. He was lucky that hammer didn't do more damage. The doctor told him the same that being mid motion might've saved him. Though if this was just a glancing blow, Tomas really didn't want to think about how taking a full blow to the skull would look like. He grabbed some paper tissues and turned on the sink, rubbing the blood off as gently as possible, wincing at every touch. Finally looking a little less like a victim of a robbery gone bad, Tomas cleaned up the sink. He was about to throw the dirty tissues into the trash, when his head started spinning and he had to lean against the wall for support.

Taking several deep breaths, trying to push back the sudden nausea, Tomas slowly slid down the wall, eternally grateful that the bathroom was properly cleaned. Closing his eyes proved to be a mistake though as all he could see was the glint of the hammer heading his way and there was a ringing sound in his ears eerily reminiscent of Harper's screams. Tomas pushed his fists against his eyes, trying to push back the images that assaulted him. His head felt like it was going to explode. All he wished for right now was to get into bed and get some sleep, but he really didn't think he could make it there without throwing up. So he let his aching head rest on his knees and tried hard to think about anything else but the last 24 hours.

He must've fallen into a light doze, because he didn't hear the rattling of the keys in the door, or Marcus putting down the groceries. What he heard was a rustle of clothes dangerously close and the swish of air as the door opened...

"No-" Tomas jerked, pushing his back against the wall, eyes wide and disoriented.

"Tomas?" Marcus spoke, his voice as soft as if he was back in the house, talking to Harper. He was leaning down, the place too cramped to allow him better access to the young priest, but he still managed to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it lightly. "It's me, Marcus." There was worry in his eyes and Tomas felt stupidly guilty for being the cause of it. He seemed to feel guilty for a lot of things lately.

"Sorry," slipped out of his mouth, but it seemed to only make Marcus frown more.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine," Tomas quickly said, still trying to calm down his wildly beating heart. "Sorry for... I didn't hear you return."

"Maybe we should get your hearing checked out as well," Marcus said with a small grin, but it quickly vanished.

"Why are you on the bathroom floor, Tomas?"

Tomas looked around, hoping to come up with a totally natural answer, but there was nothing. His brain was mush and he was just happy to see Marcus.

"I just... felt like it?" he said with a grimace and earned a sigh.

"Do you perhaps feel like getting up now?" Marcus asked, offering his hand. Tomas grabbed it shakily and with Marcus' help managed to stand up. The room once again went on a merry ride and he felt himself leaning against the older man, worrying that they would both fall, but Marcus was steady as a rock. Tomas thought he should tell him that and so he did. Marcus chuckled, the action causing Tomas to sway a bit.

"Okay, you are definitely off your rocker," Marcus said with a sigh and wrapped his arm around Tomas' waist, helping him toward the bedroom. Tomas was quickly deposited on one of the twin beds. The motion made him clench his teeth and groan in discomfort.

"If you feel sick, tell me. I'd rather bring you a bucket than clean up vomit."

Tomas mustered up enough strength to glare at the older man, who just raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Well?"

"I'm good, thanks," Tomas uttered, hoping he won't regret it later. Once he was lying on the bed, unmoving, the spinning lessened, but he still felt queasy. He winced a bit when he felt the bed dip and opened his eyes, only to be met by a studious look.

"Did you lose consciousness while I was gone?" Marcus asked, his voice lower than usual, as if knowing that any loud sound was currently making Tomas wish for a quick and easy death.

"No. I just got dizzy... that's all. Thought sitting it out would help."

"Good. I won't have to call an ambulance then," Marcus said, suddenly sounding chipper. "Here, take this," he handled Tomas the pills they got at the hospital and some water. Once Tomas dutifully sipped it down, he leaned back and hoped his stomach won't rebel.

"Thanks," he muttered, eyes already slipping closed. He heard a soft 'You're welcome', then felt Marcus standing. His boots were removed and a blanket was thrown over him, but Tomas was already out.

Marcus wasn't really planning to sleep. Finding Tomas on the bathroom floor gave him a scare he didn't wish to repeat and the confused state of the young priest made him worry, even though the doctor warned them about it. So after whipping up some quick dinner for one, Marcus settled on his bed and pulled out a sketchpad he used for his drawings. Maybe putting some of the images on paper would stop them from haunting him during the night.

Sketching helped him focus, to put his thoughts in order. He wished for the relaxing sound of his cassette player, but knew Tomas wouldn't appreciate it right now. Maybe if he felt better tomorrow Marcus could use it as kind of a payback for being a smartass earlier. With that thought in mind, Marcus let the pencil slip from his fingers as his head fell back on the comfy pillow.

The nightmare was expected, but it hurt nevertheless. Standing in his old house and watching his parents argue was something Marcus was used to seeing. It was one of his usual nightmares, always ending the same way... with his mother lying dead on the floor, her head bloodied and squishy. Marcus still remembered seeing the broken pieces of skull protruding from the wound and the grayish mush of the brain matter peeking out. In the dream he was still a seven year old kid, watching as his father took the hammer and bashed his mom's head in. He was the seven year old kid reaching for the poaching rifle and shooting his father dead before he could do him in as well. Most nights the nightmare didn't end there. Most nights, the gruesome scene with both of his parents dead turned into any of the other scenes from his past. He was back at the orphanage, back in the catacombs with only the demon for company. He was back in Mexico trying futilely to save Gabriel. Nowadays there was also the nightmare of a possessed Casey Rance staring at him with a double pupil in her eye.

Tonight though the dream went different. Tonight, instead of his mother lying on the floor with her head bashed in it was Tomas, and instead of Lorraine it was Marcus' mother holding the hammer. His father was standing next to Marcus, arms crossed on his chest and a sick smile on his face as he turned to the stunned seven year old.

"See? I knew she was a bad seed. You should have just let me kill her." With a shrug of his shoulders the man turned back to the scene, looking on as his wife used the hammer to beat Tomas into an unrecognizable pulp.

Marcus wanted to scream, to stop the woman he couldn't even recognize anymore, but he was frozen in place. All he could do was stare with his mouth open in silent scream as the scene went on and on. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, something in the corner of his eyes moved and he saw Harper walking slowly towards the rifle on the wall. As she took it off the wall and checked if there were bullets inside, she spotted Marcus looking at her. With an impish grin, she put a finger to her mouth in a universal gesture of silence.

"You took care of mine, I'll take care of yours," she mouthed and pulled the trigger.

Marcus woke up with a gasp, the sketchpad falling from the bed with a thunk. His heart was beating fast and his ears were still ringing from the sound of the shot he heard as Harper fired the rifle.

"Holy hell," he muttered half breathless and sat up, looking towards the other bed. Tomas was still asleep but judging from the grimace on his face and faster breathing he was in the grips of a nightmare as well.

Marcus rubbed at his eyes, trying to push away the images from the nightmare. Seeing Tomas alive and albeit bruised but with his skull still in one piece was a relief. Being able to speak with him would be even better, but Marcus was still too shook up to face a possible conversation in the middle of the night. Still, Tomas seemed to be fighting some sort of nightmare himself. When he winced in his sleep and a small whimper escaped him, Marcus couldn't stop his hand from reaching out. Resting his palm on Tomas' chest he was surprised to feel how wildly his heart was beating.

"Hush," Marcus soothed as Tomas reacted to the touch. "It's okay, it's just a dream." He knew that what he was doing was illogical. After all, Tomas wasn't a child in need of soothing. He was an adult man having a nightmare and the best thing would be to wake him up or let him work it out himself. But after his own nightmare, Marcus needed some reassurance that none of that was real and feeling the heart beating under the palm of his hand was reassuring enough. Tomas also seemed to sense his presence, because he was starting to calm down. It seemed like he and Tomas shared more than just their faith in God. Although the young priest surely didn't have such a turbulent childhood as Marcus, he wasn't immune to nightmares either.

Marcus waited until the heartbeat slowed down marginally then pulled away his hand as if burned. After everything that happened, he should try and keep his distance, keep a cool head so to speak. But it seemed that he was doing quite the opposite. With a shake of his head, he headed into the bathroom. He could feel the sweaty shirt sticking to his skin. The cut on his arm was stinging like hell too. While he wasn't about to turn on the shower in the middle of the night, throwing some cold water on his face and changing shirts sounded just about heavenly.

When he left the bedroom, Tomas looked to be sleeping almost peacefully. When Marcus returned five minutes later it was a whole different picture. Tomas was either back in the throes of a nightmare or he was having some kind of a fit, because he was trashing like mad and groaning as if in pain. Marcus cursed his previous decision not to wake him up and rushed across the room, worried that with all that trashing his protégé would end up on the floor.

Grabbing Tomas' face in both hands, Marcus gently slapped his face.

"Hey, wake up! Tomas? It's just a nightmare. Come on, wake up!" Marcus repeated several times until the brown eyes opened, unfocused and hazy but still a welcome sight. For a second Marcus thought he would see only the whites of the priest's eyes as happened earlier in the hospital when Tomas connected with the demon in Cindy. That blind look still gave him the creeps.

"Harper?" Tomas asked, blinking and looking around searchingly. Marcus could feel his pulse beating hard under his fingers.

"She's okay. Calm down, it was just a nightmare," he said but Tomas still seemed disoriented, caught in some dream. His eyes roamed across the room then finally settled on Marcus. Brown eyes focused on the familiar face as Tomas grabbed one of the hands still holding his face.

"Marcus," he sighed and some of the tension left his body.

"The one and only," Marcus quipped with a smirk, hoping to calm the man even further. "You back with me?"

"Si," Tomas gave a shaky nod and Marcus finally let go of his face, though Tomas still kept his hold on the older man's hand, using it as an anchor.

They sat there for a minute in total silence, unmoving. It was Marcus who gave a gentle pat to Tomas' chest and gave him an inquiring look.

"Are you alright now?"

"Y-yeah, fine," Tomas answered and as if just now realizing he was still holding Marcus' hand as a prisoner, he let go. A little bit shaky, but he managed to sit up without any help and Marcus stepped back, giving him some space.

"What's the time?" Tomas asked, rubbing at his eyes then wincing from pain as he managed to hit the bruise on his head.

"3:20 am."

"Damn," Tomas looked up with a grimace that quickly turned into an apologetic look. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."

Marcus didn't comment. He just stood back, giving Tomas the look.

"What?" Tomas asked, perturbed.

"What was the nightmare about?"

Tomas looked at Marcus and his teeth clenched.

"I need to use the bathroom," he said after a few seconds, ignoring the question. Marcus watched him go, relieved to see he didn't wobble. While Tomas freshened up, Marcus picked up his forgotten sketchbook and pencil lying on the floor and looked at his drawing of Harper. She looked healthy and dare say even happy on the picture and Marcus wished to get a chance and see her that way. Maybe in few days, when the drugs are out of her system and she'll be on her way to the new family, maybe he'll see that smile on her face. For now he made sure the picture was safely tucked away in his suitcase.

TBC

A/N2: Sorry for cutting it off in such a weird place, but the scene will continue in the next chapter and I thought it would be too long. I should post in a few days, if anyone will be interested in reading more. Cheers:)