Underage prostitution
Self harm
disassociation So... Hi, I've been working on this for a while and I'd love to hear your thoughts on some of the new formatting I've been using or any other thoughts about the chapter, I'd really appreciate constructive criticism! Also, how are we all? It's been a while. I once read a book where this guy said, "Call a spade a spade and a jack a jack, but *always* call a whore a lady. Their lives are hard enough." So, that's where the title is from. Anyway, enjoy :)
"Artemis."
Artemis awoke with a start.
"Run!" Benny yelled, panic in his voice.
The sounds of fighting drifted from the distance, and he was on his feet, looking around. Benny was facing off against three werewolves in an increasingly desperate fight. Already bleeding in several places, his movements were more sluggish than usual – still terrifyingly fast – but slower than usual.
Three hostiles. All equipped with sharp claws and teeth that could grind flesh into a paste. Lovely.
Grabbing his dagger from his boot, he descended into the fray with – well – maybe not grace per se but enthusiasm at the very least. He was well acquainted with close-quarters combat by now, stabbing, jabbing, brutal movements with a flurry of diversionary blows, all elbows and knees. In this instance, biting was very much off the table.
It was far from elegant, but at least it was efficient. Butler would have grimaced at the display – professional as the man was.
Artemis elbowed a blond man in the solar plexus, before following it up with rapid-fire jabs to the head and neck. Something cracked. He plunged the knife into the man's chest before struggling to pull it out. Fuck.
Used to the enhanced strength of a fledgling demon, Artemis had never stabbed someone as a human.
A fist cracked into his head from behind and the world spun, he was up again, vision blurred. A man advanced, a manic look in his eyes–
Then there was a great yellow flash in the clearing and the fight stopped. Artemis, dazed as he was, watched in confusion as Benny and the two werewolves came to a standstill before they ran in different directions.
Benny grabbed Artemis, "C'mon kid, we got to get out of here."
"Wh-?" Artemis started, he was probably concussed.
The light was getting closer now.
"Shit," Benny muttered before he pushed Artemis down behind a fallen log.
Artemis watched, as Opal Koboi shot past, levitating above a destructive stream of golden energy, laughing maniacally all the while as she passed.
"Ah." He stared straight ahead, eyes wide "Oh, that is not good."
Although…
"It does make sense. I was probably pulled into Purgatory with her, She wasn't really a fairy at the end, she was… something else."
"You know her?"
Artemis blinked slowly, "Yes, she was… I think I'll say, my nemesis."
Benny rolled his eyes, "People don't have nemesis. Not in real life."
"I do. I have plenty of enemies, but they weren't nemesiss'. Opal was different."
"I can see that, Chere. I've seen her a few times in the last month, she just flies around zapping people and laughing."
"Sounds in character. At least she's happy, god knows someone should be."
Benny shrugged, head inclined.
They waited there until the sounds of Opal's particular brand of violence faded to nothing.
Benny turned to him, slightly impressed, slightly mocking, "What in the hell, since when could you fight like that? You actually looked like you knew what you were doing."
Artemis shrugged, "I'm a ninja now. So, naturally, I must respect a time-honored tradition and have a spiritual epiphany which leads me to realise the hardship of a minority and fulfill my destiny as a pretentious white saviour."
"Chere… I don't know what you're talking about."
Artemis giggled, actually giggled. Frond, he was spacy, "Oh yeah, you died in the sixties. TV has gotten fun."
"Sounds it," Benny said slowly, then stared at him with shock clear.
"What?" Artemis asked, "Do I have something on my face?"
An incredulous look was aimed at him, "You… you're on your feet. And you're fine."
"On your feet sweetheart, it's just a bit of blood."
"Well, my ears are still ringing and my head is killing me."
Benny shook his head, "No, I mean, your injuries are gone. What about the shrapnel?"
Artemis looked down at himself, "Oh." He zipped down his outer dark camouflage jacket and his underjacket, finally pulling his shirt to the side. The scar looked pink and old; the stitches had vanished, "Cool."
"Chere, I'm glad you're healed an' all, but I think you're concussed."
Artemis puffed up his cheeks, then blew the air out, like a normal fifteen-year-old his age might when feeling awkward, "Probably."
Benny closed his eyes and lowered his head back onto the log behind him, "God help me."
A day passed, and the time of which Artemis spent most of sleeping.
The warm light would coax even the heaviest sleepers to life by this point, and they sat by the embers of the fire. Did purgatory have seasons? It seemed like spring.
He couldn't help but notice how haggard Benny looked, and couldn't help but ask.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, just fine chief." A gruff reply.
"You look exhausted."
"What can I say? I got used to getting my beauty sleep. Can't get much rest without someone having your back."
"Oh." He said, crestfallen.
Benny clapped him on the back, "Don't worry about me chief, I'm fine. I promise. I survived for this long, didn't I?"
Artemis nodded slightly.
"So, I was thinking we keep going to the portal, that good?" Benny asked although it didn't sound like a question.
"This is going to happen whether you want to or not. Don't make me hurt you."
"Yes, si—yeah—yeah, that's fine – Benny." He fumbled, wondering why his superior Benny was asking his opinion. What Artemis thought didn't matter, it certainly hadn't before. Alastair didn't like to hear anything he thought. Unless it was useful.
Benny frowned.
He fidgeted, weaving the gold-twined leather handle of the dagger between his fingers. Would Sir Alastair want it back? Alastair liked to be called Sir when he was angry. He wouldn't be happy now.
He could still feel Sir's Benny's eyes on him.
"Alright then Chere, we better make a move," Benny said, standing up and stamping out the last embers of the fire.
Hot coals under his feet. 'Do you want me to do this on the floor or the rack?'
He flinched as the boot stomped a final time.
Tension was certainly a word for it. The quiet, Benny's covert glances. Maybe it was tension. Or something else. He wasn't accustomed to worrying about this kind of thing anymore.
It was difficult. In Hell, someone was below you or above you. Benny was neither, he didn't fit into a neat box. But he had no particular power over Benny, nor was the man scared of him and it seemed that his subconscious was trying to round it up. Suffice to say it was discombobulating both that his mind had decided to size the man up; and that this was the conclusion he had come to.
He had to compartmentalise. Because this wasn't normal. And ideally, He would like to come across as normal. Ideally.
Benny's limp on his right was new or at least recent. From the practiced way he shifted Artemis guessed it was an old injury he had just never noticed before, something that barely even registered. It had probably been aggravated in the last few weeks.
A structural weakness in the patella, it wouldn't be hard to shatter. He was left-handed, best to go in from the right, his right that is. He would be much more likely to use brute force, but his emotional attachment meant he would be liable to use locks, blocks, and holds exclusively. Lowered chance of death, further opportunity was provided to plunge his knife into Benny's side when being restrained.
Artemis hoped that this wouldn't always be how he processed the world. It was entirely too cynical, even for him.
Perhaps this was how Butler saw people, a collection of weaknesses and nerve endings.
He hadn't meant to think about it, he had just reflexively begun to catalogue tactical advantages. He wondered if this was who he was now. He wants to say sorry, even though Benny wouldn't know what he was talking about. Or even care that much if he did.
The thought is a stain, a fleck of dirt. Benny can't see it, but Artemis knows it's there. He knows.
As they walk, Artemis presses the blade of the knife into his hand, everything stopping for a moment.
"Kid… don't do that."
Artemis' eyes snapped up to Benny.
Benny ducked his head for a moment, "I can smell it. And so can everything else."
"Right." There it was again. Tension. It was a second before his mind kicked into gear, "Fuck." There was a difference between day-old dried blood and he's fresh warm (very evaporable) blood. He closed his bleeding hand and rifled in the many pockets of his camouflage jacket. Alcohol, bandages.
Benny looked like he was going to say something. "Some nifty gear you got there."
"Yes, I suppose it is." He wrapped his hand. The alcohol would mask the scent; it would blend with the smell of fermenting berries and plants. Hopefully.
Artemis had felt like something should be happening. He was lying. He hadn't said anything, but he was lying to Benny in his silence.
He wasn't safe to be around. At some point, the boy Artemis had been replaced, and no one had noticed but it wasn't the same. He had the same memories, but it wasn't the same, he was someone else now. "You're mine, sweetheart." His skin was crawling, and he couldn't seem to understand… because something should be happening.
If Alastair was here, he'd know. He always seemed to know, his face would soften, he'd step closer, and he'd hurt help Artemis. How could he think something like that, and yet nothing happens, no sign, no flickers of pain, no yelling.
Nothing was happening but Artemis was still waiting for something. Alastair had done that, hurt him, and then that something would have happened, and it would be fine. The second shoe had dropped. A breeze danced across his skin.
A howl in the distance, he turned his head, behind them was nothing. But there was an uneasy feeling, he was missing something.
A rumble.
He looked around again.
The ground shook and a centipede erupted from the ground, body rearing up as it clambered to the surface. It towered over them by several metres, legs undulating in a sickening rhythm, a great maw lined with sharp inward-facing teeth.
Benny went for its abdomen, swinging as the creature lunged for him, its head batting him out of the way, then bearing down on him. Its teeth flexing, it began to rip into his shoulder, and a raw scream was torn from Benny's throat as the man thrashed widely. Sinew tore with the sound of crackling velcro, muscle squelched in its teeth and Benny went limp.
Artemis ran at them, skidding, and plunged his knife into the creature's undulating maw. It screeched, for a moment, then fell on top of them, still twitching.
Artemis heaved it to the side, but not without some effort.
Benny said nothing for a moment. And another. Artemis looked round; he was pale, unmoving, his shoulder ripped and bloodied.
He scrambled to the man's side, "Benny?"
Nothing. He tugged at the limb uninjured arm to no avail.
"Fuck. We don't have time for this." He muttered.
Because Artemis was good, an experienced fighter at this point but he doesn't have Benny's supernatural endurance. If he stays here and defends his friend he will eventually tire, slowly, until something kills them both.
But he can't leave Benny.
Vampires usually have accelerated healing, but Benny had been run ragged for weeks, sustaining more injuries while doing so. Maybe Benny would heal. Maybe.
He pulled the shreds of Benny's shirt away from the wound and winced, the bleeding was rapid, and it was coated in a viscous green acrid-smelling saliva. Or perhaps it was venom. Artemis did his best, hands shaking. He was used to this, but he had only ever done it in Hell, and only with people that didn't matter. Which was a disturbing thought. He cleaned what he could around the wound, and tied a tight bandage to stem the bled.
Assess the situation a voice in his mind said, it first sounded like Butler, but then it had distorted into Alastair's sing-song lilt. The one he used when he was giving Artemis an ultimatum. He pushed it aside, he didn't have time to be confused about whatever was going on in his head.
The carcass of the centipede coiled around the trees, its blood pooling on the forest floor. The size of the thing was staggering. Carrion would soon descend to feast on it, and in turn, predators would arrive in droves. They had to move.
But Benny was unresponsive and bleeding, and heavy.
Artemis was still a fifteen-year-old boy (physically, perhaps mentally too, he didn't suppose that hell was terribly conducive to mental growth) There was no way he could carry Benny for a substantial amount of time, if at all. He could drag him a small distance, but he would need to reduce resistance.
Of course. He rifled in one of his larger pockets and pulled out a small tarp sometimes used for shelter. Demons didn't need shelter, but Alastair had his gear made specially.
He dragged Benny onto the tarp and wrapped a cord under the man's arms, securing him somewhat. The bone white knife lay where Benny had dropped it. Artemis tucked it into the empty sheath on his belt. Benny's head lulled forward as Artemis lifted the makeshift stretcher, the man's legs dragging on the floor as they went. It was hard work and Benny's feet kept on snaring roots and branches as they went.
Half an hour blessedly passed before they were attacked. A striga. Artemis had barely survived. The woman's claws had almost ripped his throat out, her green eyes glowing. Artemis hadn't thought they were real, nor had he imagined they looked like that in real life.
A great eagle swooped ahead, and Artemis held his breath. It could crush him in one of its sharp clawed feet if it so wished.
As his movements became sluggish, night descended with a callus reliability. He didn't know how Benny had done this, survived while protecting someone, it was a near impossible task. It was clear that he'd taken Benny's help for granted, it seemed that alone every moment was a struggle to survive, more so than usual. This couldn't continue.
There was something that could be done to accelerate Benny's healing. And he really had been trying not to think about it. Benny had said he wouldn't need to drink blood here unless he was injured. As he was dead. So, human blood could restore Benny's ability to heal. But Benny wouldn't be lucid for a while. And unfortunately for many Hollywood movies, unconscious people tended to choke on liquid.
An idea sparked, perhaps the idea to bite down would be instinctual. He was knelt down next to his friend and tried to wake him again, this time getting a mumbled response. Half-conscious then, that would have to do. He eased a hand under Benny's head and lifted it, ignoring everything in his mind repeating, he's unconscious, he can't consent, he can't consent.
Flashes of Hell, Alastair never asking, never listening, smothering. He wasn't even allowed his own emotions, his reactions It's not like that. It's not. He cared what Benny wanted, but he really couldn't wait till morning for the healing process to start.
He opened Benny's mouth and pressed the crook of his arm against Benny's teeth. Fangs slid out of Benny's gums and tore into his arm. Artemis went still, breathing through the pain as Benny started to drink. This felt wrong.
His arm began to tingle, and a warm feeling spread through his veins, the pain receding until it was barely present. Absently he remembered that some predators released painkillers and tranquilisers in their saliva to subdue prey. He closed his eyes; the warm feeling had reached his toes and the world was pleasantly thrumming. And spinning. Oh. The blood loss. He opened his eyes, how long had it been?
He pulled his arm away, even as it bled all over him and lowered Benny's head to the floor. The man's eyes were open, but unseeing, he was gradually coming around. Artemis was slow to bandage the arm, mind numb.
"Artemis?" Fuck, his voice sounded so uncertain, scared even. Benny's eyes were focusing on the scene before him, and he craned his neck as best as he could and made a choked off sound. Benny tried to twist, to move, but his body was unyielding, and he huffed out a sound of distressed frustration, "What did you do?" heavy breathing, "What did you-"
An answer bubbled up before he could stop it, "I let you feed. I thought it might speed up the healing process." He blinked slowly, that was odd. It was like the words had just slipped out.
Benny stopped trying to move, lying back, "You shouldn't've done that; I could've killed you. I could've… Darn it all to hell."
Artemis shrugged, "You didn't, I'm fine. And now you are too."
"You fuckin' idiot."
"I won't dispute that."
Benny sighed then narrowed his eyes, "Never seen anything like that before, thing had too many legs." He shuddered.
Artemis clicked a finger to the side, still unmoved from the conversation before, "I am sorry though. I'm sorry. You weren't awake and I shouldn't have… you couldn't say no." He was staring ahead, as if he was remembering something.
The air changed and Benny's voice was gentle, "S'alright Cher. Hey, it's okay. That wasn't what I was pissed about."
He fidgeted.
"I was worried, didn't want you dying on me. It doesn't bother me, I mean it. I would've died if you left me." An expression of weary concern crept onto his friend's face "But that isn't an excuse to be stupid, no risking your life, got it?"
Artemis blinked tears out of his eyes surreptitiously, his gaze lowering to Benny, and he nodded, a fragile smile taking root.
They were on the move again; Benny had hardly needed five hours to heal completely. Artemis was relaxed for the first time all day. And Benny was making casual conversation, trying to make him laugh, or saying the kind of thing that made Artemis roll his eyes and at least pretend to be annoyed.
They lulled into silence and he felt a sudden pull to speak, "When I was… in Hell… I stopped fighting Alastair, not that I could do much… but, well. Anyway, he let me out of my cell after a while, he still kept an eye on me. He taught me to… torture people. I wasn't… I didn't want to, but I couldn't… I was scared and it was as if he was…" the words evaded him all of a sudden, "He was one of the only people I was allowed to see, and It was hard… not to listen to him." God, he sounded young, even to his own ears. He looked up for some kind of assurance.
Benny was clearly focused on him. Just listening.
"After that… I worked in the more academic side of it. Designing plans for the demons to follow with certain people, steering politics towards general anarchy, creating chaos really. I didn't realise at the time but, when I was hurt, my soul started to crack and pieces of Hell lodge themselves in. It's how Demons come to be. I stopped caring as much about everything, pain, other people. I became stronger too, the longer I stayed there. I preferred it, that would make me a pretty terrible person, wouldn't it?"
Benny cast a disapproving glance over to him, "You didn't have a choice. Preferring to feel less pain is natural."
Artemis shrugged, feeling relieved Benny saw it like that, like it was the only thing he could have done. Now he'd only have convince himself, "I guess… Then, he- Alastair sent me to a war zone." Benny looked like he was trying not to interrupt, his expression too kind, it almost hurt. "The angels had begun a full-frontal assault on hell, it had been going on for maybe five years at that point. I was there another eight years before they breached the city. An angel, a powerful one, looked into my mind and… he saw what happened. He... purged my soul I think and sent me back here."
Benny's sunlit features were twisted in concern, sympathy, and tenderness that almost hurt, "I'm glad you're back lad. You've gone through enough. None of it was your fault, it's all on them."
Artemis felt like he might cry. Someone reacting to this made him feel like he wasn't crazy, like he wasn't just moping. Something white hot and real unfurled in his chest.
The forest was alive with activity here, the day was bright and grey the clouds spitting the occasional raindrop, "Almost there." Benny puffed, his sprint slowing to a jog, "This last bit's going to be rough."
"I hadn't noticed." Artemis sarked, thin trees racing by him as he ran.
They stopped for a moment, "You ready?" Benny asked.
Artemis raised an eyebrow, "It'd be a bit awkward if I wasn't, wouldn't it?" A stern look from Benny made him smile, "Yes, I'm ready."
Benny met his gaze, "Thank you, I'll owe you for this Chief."
"No more than I'll owe you my friend." Artemis said, then pulled knife out of his belt, slit it down his arm, hands on Benny, focusing on his energy. Benny was doing the same.
Benny disappeared into a flash of light that jumped into his arms, the energy glowing red under the skin on his arms.
He took a deep breath and ran, trees lashing by. He came by a clearing, natural rock choppy and uneven and smattered with rainwater.
A woman was waiting at the shimmering portal. She gave him pause, before tentacles and teeth erupted from her body, too big to fit into those dimensions of a person. He dodged, the speed of the strikes of the tentacles moving faster and faster, razer like teeth on the ends leaving gashes on the rock. He took a chance, charging feigning with his knife, then skidding past her on his knees, into the portal.
His body was wrenched into freefall, dark all around, he changed directions multiple times, dizziness overtaking him.
He closed his eyes. This had better work was the last thing he thought before he closed his eyes.
He landed with some speed and a resounding thud, not noticing the last wisps of white smoke leaving him, padding his landing.
His eyes adjusted to a dark forest his eyes to a forest. He cursed; it hadn't worked. Or maybe… Ahead a headlamp lit up the forest, almost as bright as the moon.
He made a dash for the verge; he didn't know how far out he was from the nearest settlement. The truck came to a screeching halt as the trucker got out.
"You okay kid?" She asked.
She wore a ratty baseball cap, and her blond hair came down to her shoulder, she was maybe forty or fifty.
He mustered the friendliest smile he could, "Sorry, I don't know where I am, could you give me a lift?"
She eyed his tattered clothes, "Sure, hop on up."
Once he was inside, he realised how numb his fingers were from the cold.
"Where you headin' kiddo?" The trucker
He kept his answer short, "Louisiana."
The woman whistled, "You're a long way from home then."
He frowned "Where am I?"
"Maine."
Maine was hundreds of miles away from where he needed to be. He didn't consider calling Holly; that part of his life was over now. He couldn't go back until he'd sorted this out. He didn't want to be around Myles and Bekett like he was now, he was a monster.
The more he thought about it, the more he could almost feel…
He took Artemis shoulders in blood caked hands, "Why did you let that happen?"
Artemis was confused, "I didn't…I don't-" He didn't let anything happen. He's scared and foggy and probably in shock.
…Did he? Artemis wasn't sure anymore.
"You should fix him before he bleeds out." Alastair said. "Don't want a death on your conscience," And with that he casually leaned against the wall.
The ride trundled on for another half an hour before he was dropped off at a petrol station near a town. The night was cold, biting even.
He was alone now with his thoughts. When he got like this, he'd usually ask Alastair to hurt him, take control so he wouldn't have to think. It was hard not to fall back in that mindset, find sir, do as he was told. He wanted to hurt himself, but he had a job to do, no getting distracted.
He needed a map. Or a phone. And money.
He was sitting on the ground a while later with some idea of where he was going (from a grumpy clerk). There was a line of trucks stopped for the night, no cars this late.
A man walked up, "What you doing out here this late sweetheart?" It didn't seem friendly, it felt predatory which set him at ease. That was fucked up.
"I… need to get somewhere." he said.
"You have any way to get there?"
He shook his head.
The man knelt by him, "Well why don't we help each other out? I can give you maybe forty dollars to get by. I'd just need a willing mouth."
Artemis knew what he meant; it had often happened in Hell. Sometimes Ali just liked to confuse him, sometimes he needed paperwork processed faster than everyone else from head office and they were not beholden to Alastair. If it wasn't fast enough Ali would get angry.
He'd probably try something, hurt him, take it further than agreed. That was fine. He wanted someone to hurt him, not respect him. It was comforting, familiar even. "Yeah alright." He said numbly.
The man smiled. He didn't feel anything. He was led to the back of the building. He was on his knees, the scene familiar. This wasn't normal, he wasn't doing this for the money, not really, he just wanted… someone to want him, maybe to hurt him.
The man's hands came up to his head as he went faster. Pulling on his hair.
Twenty minutes later he was sitting in the man's truck wondering what fuck was wrong with him.
Twenty hours later he was in Portland, changed into something less military, jeans a T-shirt and a jacket. It was surprising how easy it was to find sex work. He'd bought a backpack, supplies, a shovel and a coach ride to Boston. A man had raped him since, not like it hadn't happened before, took it further than he'd said. But that was fine, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it. He wasn't a good person.
A shower and a night's sleep had been welcome.
He lay on a thin bed, alone thoughts swirling round his head. There wasn't enough distraction. Alastair would say something cutting if he was here, then he'd wrap his arms around him. He missed that.
They coach took a day to arrive and from there he hitchhiked to Connecticut then New York, on to Pennsylvania. That took another four days.
Sometimes he let a guy… even if he didn't need the money. More often then not they'd say demeaning things to him, and that was fine, they were usually true. It made him feel… hollow, worthless. And that was probably how he should feel. He'd stopped saying no more often than not. And it hurt in more ways than one. And he didn't feel so numb when it did.
It was the only real human contact he got, and it was nice when a man would look at him like that, like he was something to desire. It was validating he supposed.
Five more days and he'd passed though Virginia, Tennessee, and Alabama. It got warmer as moved south.
Dive bars, like the one he was in now, were commonplace here it seemed. Sticky floors, old rock music and alcoholism haunted these places. He approached a tall man in his thirties, with sandy hair. He was a military type, American, and more than a bit squiffy from drink. He'd eyed Artemis more than once, but not too overtly, he wasn't leering.
He didn't know why he did this, in Hell, he'd done it without charge, this self-destructive cycle, validation, emptiness, intimacy then nothing song. It was like a strange form of self-harm.
He'd been taken to a room. It had been quick, but not bad, and not demeaning either. That was odd. Just quiet, intimate maybe. Perhaps he didn't have anyone to be intimate with. Artemis lay there, disconnected.
"You alright?" Asked the man.
"I'm fine." He heard himself say.
Another few minutes passed, and Artemis began to sit up get himself together.
"Kid," The man said like something awful had just occurred to him, "How old are you?"
No-one had asked him that in a long time, not least with concern, "Old enough."
"Do you need… help?" the man asked uncomfortably, eyeing his back and Artemis realised he was studying the scars that littered his body.
"I'm fine and I don't like to repeat myself." Artemis snapped.
"Okay, got it… Do you need to phone home though? Your accent... you're not from around here."
"No." He walked into the bathroom and walked out twenty minutes later, without a word. Who did this man think he was? Asking if he needed help? He didn't, he was doing fine, actually.
He arrived at the town, St Ives at night, but he was so close.
The half-moon shone bright tonight and crickets ticked in the long grass. He passed a sign, an old graveyard, rows of unmarked graves. He walked down the row, and his arm began to glow, it got brighter and brighter until he reached the right one. It was buzzing now.
"Hold on my fanged friend, I'm getting there." He murmured. He took the extendable shovel and started to dig. It was not a shallow grave and Artemis had never gone grave digging before. He was out of breath and perspiring soon.
Eventually, he hit a wooden coffin and threw the shovel to the side. It creaked as he pried it open, a plume of dust rising. The smell was overpowering, and he coughed several times. A decrepit body lay inside.
He took his arm in hand, cut it open again and focused on pushing the energy out. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, a fully restored Benny was climbing out of the box, "My god I need a shower. Nasty." Benny said.
Artemis coughed, "I have never agreed with you more." Benny flexed, his fangs coming out. "Everything working?" Artemis asked.
Benny grinned, "Beautifully, thanks to you." He came closer, clasping his arm, pulling him in for a hug, "I wouldn't have made it out of there without you." He broke away, still grinning, "We did it, Chere."
Artemis couldn't help but let Benny's joy infect him, "We did, my friend. That we did." He climbed out of the grave, picking up his stuff. He had been careful not to work in this town, "We should get back to the motel. Now, I don't have time to stop at a hospital along the way but-" He tossed a water bottle to Benny, filled with crimson coloured liquid, "I had some blood to spare. I'll figure this out later."
Benny caught the bottle midair, "Thanks."
Artemis waved it away and tossed back a bundle from the bag, "Oh, and I don't know what your size is, but this is my best guess."
Benny examined the Karki's and flannel with curiosity, "Chief, I don't know how to-" his voice layered with emotion.
"You don't have to." Artemis cut him off, "You would have done the same, you've saved my life."
Benny snorted, "You're not allergic to feelings, you know that right?"
Artemis rolled his eyes. It was becoming a habit around this man. They walked off into the night, and Artemis wasn't sure where they were going after this, but that was for then. For now, he would be happy he had his friend back.
Somewhere in Illinois a man named Jimmy Novak heard a voice, "Hello Jimmy, My name is Castiel, God has work for us." The man jolted, blue eyes widening.
Author's note: I once read a book where a a guy said, "Call a spade a spade and a jack a jack, but *always* call a whore a lady. Their lives are hard enough." so that's where the title is from. So... Artemis is having an interesting time. I actually planned out his route with a map if anyone is wondering. I enjoyed just having Opal flying about and being chaotic. Drop any thoughts you have below! I would really appreciate any constructive criticism!