Hansel held his breath, not wanting to disturb Gretel. Worry gnawed at the edge of his resolve as he debated between the need to open his eyes to check what danger they'd gotten themselves in now, and getting lost in the warm feeling of Gretel curled behind him. Gently carding her fingers through his hair was a habit she had taken to when she was worried about him. They must surely be up a creek without a paddle for her to be so gentle and motherly in a way she only showed when he was sick. The revelation caused him to stiffen as he remembered that he was indeed plagued, not with a simple cold, but something much darker, much worse.

"Hansel?" murmured Gretel, her fingers pausing as she felt the shift in his formerly relaxed demeanor.

His breath ghosted over dry and cracked lips as he pried his eyelids open against the gritty feeling of his eyes. "'m still 'ear," Hansel slurred, not sure if he should be pleasantly surprised that they weren't dead or just putting off the inevitable. "Where's 'ear 'nyway?"

Gretel slipped her hand from Hansel's hair, shifting his head gently from her lap to the pillows. Though there were no serious injuries, he still looked like he had been through the ringer. Black and blue really weren't his colors. His eyes darted around the room but before he could voice his concerns, she grabbed a spoonful of the now cold broth and pressed it to his lips.

Hansel scrunched his face at the overly salty broth but gratefully took it to sooth his rough throat. He could see the toll their current predicament was taking on his sister; the dark circles never seemed to go away, unlike her warm smile that never seemed to come anymore. The light in her eyes and joy in her voice had long been replaced with pale skin and worry lines. It killed him to know he was the cause; he always seemed to be the cause.

After they had escaped the witch in the candy house and Hansel had started to show the first signs of the sugar sickness, it was Gretel that stayed with him, held his hand and promised that they hadn't survived the monster to have it all end that way. Hansel swallowed hard. He should have sent her away then, spared her from wasting her time.

"Stop that. We're going to get through this," scolded Gretel, giving him a gentle but firm smack on the side of the head. Somehow she always knew what thoughts were lurking in the dark recesses of Hansel's mind.

He snorted. "Been saving up for a miracle?"

"No," she confessed, "but stranger things have happened." Gretel paused, thinking about how she ended up hunting witches for a living with her brother, a troll and a boy that had practically made the siblings his religion, before choosing her next words carefully. Kaspar was a wildcard she didn't know how to read yet. "We might have found someone who could help you with your… problem."

"Yeah? Who?" Hansel's skepticism hung off every word. He had a solution to the problem. Hell, he had an endless supply of solutions he could load into his gun, if only he could convince Gretel to just let him go. He needed her understanding and her blessing or at the very least, her acceptance, otherwise she was liable to do something stupid. Hansel really had no desire to spend eternity as a member of the undead or something equally as horrible, should Gretel prove crazy enough to seek out someone who could do something so rash. And Gretel had proven herself to be just that crazy when it came to him. For both their souls, he needed her to let go.

"The guy who claims to be the only surviving male witch. At the very least, he can kick the Lamiae's asses and seems to be offering us shelter," she answered, almost daring to hope that salvation was upon them.

As if the stories weren't enough to convince Hansel of his impending death from the silver creatures' hands weren't enough, the foreboding ache in his gut assured him of the one possible outcome to his story. "And at most?"

"He has a way to help you." Gretel clinched her fist as Hansel rolled his eyes. "He's obviously survived, which means it can be done," she protested.

"At what price?" snapped Hansel. The thought of running forever was as appealing as selling his soul and becoming the very thing he hated. Nothing was worth preying on innocent children to live, nothing. "I don't have control over this thing Gretel! I've already hurt people, friends, who's next? You? I can't let that happen. I won't! I didn't want this Gretel. I'm not going to become like…"

"Like who?" she demanded, hurt burning every fiber of her being. "Me? Our mother? Who Hansel?"

Hansel lowered his eyes. It was the same fight come back to haunt them. The inescapable truth that no matter what, this was who he was: the monster parent's warned their children about; the monster pretending to be a man. "Like them!"

Gretel slammed the bowl down on the side table by the bed with a resounding thud. They had been on the same page for so long, and now the last year, they just seemed to be in completely different books. It wasn't like Hansel's hatred was anything new or some secret he had kept to himself. The truth was she couldn't even blame him for his attitude because somewhere along the line it wasn't Hansel that had changed, it was her. But still there was something just under the surface that she'd never taken the time to notice or question. It was a self-loathing that had only began to take root after their brush with Muriel. "Why do you feel you have to be punished?"

The temperature in the room felt like it dropped a few degrees as Hansel stared at his sister. Denial and lies danced on his tongue begging to see the light of day and he desperately wanted to tell her she was wrong. Terror rippled across his face from to a combination of being discovered, and fear, that maybe she believed it as much as he did. Hansel dug deep, searching for the strength to offer some reassurance but he came up empty. He was just so tired and the truth came bubbling out. "Because I've failed! I failed to protect you from this life. I failed in making sure you had a family, a safe place growing up. How many kids did we not get to in time?" His hands were forever stained with the blood of those he failed. Witches were relentless and no matter how many they killed in righteous anger, more always seemed to slither from the cracks and kill more innocent children. And now he had to factor in the good witch angle. How many white witches had he killed in his haste to rid the world of magic? How many witches like Gretel, like his mother, like Mina, who had no greater desire than to protect their loved ones and live in peace, had he killed blinded by hate?

"This, this is a sign that I'm no better than the monsters we tried to save people from. In fact I'm worse. I was just pretending to be one of the good guys!"

"Hansel, this doesn't change who you are. You're still the stubborn, idiotic, oaf of a brother you've always been," offered Gretel in a soothing yet taunting tone. "And along with all of that is a loyal, brave, courageous man who's made it his life mission to save others from all the horrors and suffering he's had to endure."

A small speck of confidence wormed its way through Hansel's cracks. Despite everything, and there was no one that had seen him at his lowest or darkest than his sister, Gretel still had faith in him, still believed he was worth saving. It was hard to ignore. "You forgot ruggedly handsome," he added shyly.

Gretel smiled, her first genuine smile in months. "I haven't lied to you yet. I'm not about to start now."

"In the spirit of full disclosure," started Kaspar from the shadow of the doorway, undeterred from interrupting the tender sibling moment, "You should know that the task you're about to set on should not be taken lightly. It takes a certain type of individual to rise above the magic and not let it consume them. Though I guess if it was easy, everyone would do it."

Yeah, easy, thought Hansel as he took his first look at their supposed savior and the telltale lines of dark magic that decorated his face. He had a terrible feeling his struggles were just beginning.