a fresh start with the Easter morn- (closed)

[ployboy]

Who: Kate, Edward, Tim, others
What: an Easter celebration meets the Darkwalker's Revenge
When: on or about Easter, April
Where: Milton Church main chapel, other cabins

Content Warnings: we start with themes of cannibalism; loss of self; predation; stalking; vigilantism; violence; and there will be additional warnings on individual threads

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Not that Tim could let himself fall asleep this time. The twilight of day is a heavy weight on his limbs and lids, but in him thrums the electric anticipation of all-black night. So for now, rest is as hard to come by as sleep. And it wouldn't do to keep idle. With the Aurora coloring the sky above often, Tim had gleaned one bit of information that would have meant nothing to him before:

The calendars, paper and digital, are in agreement that Easter is upon them.

And Kate's probably going to make a big thing out of it.

He won't be jostled awake this time, at least. But Tim figures: well, he can wish her a-- happy Sunday or whatever. Give her something sweet, and then hightail it out of there. Sure. Why not. He has nothing cute for her, but he's got Jolly Ranchers. It'll have to do.

But Kate's not in her room.

He finds her making her way to the old church already. He finds the Lieutenant by her side. And that's never been a sight that he could simply let be.

Kate's Saviors have a frankly deplorable habit... of hurting her.

So Tim, a shadow and as silent as one, follows. He has a promise to keep.

Comments

cw: brief suicide ideation things

[fidior]

He can't describe what happens next — what any of it is. For a brief, horrible moment, he's been half-aware that the hole in him was being filled, that his hunger was being appeased, (even if not enough, not enough). But it was something, some glorious, nightmarish thing (he hurt Kate, Kate's crying shaking gasping, Kate's somewhere he can't reach and he needs to go to her, to fix this, to hold her in his hands)

Vitality pours into him and seeps into all the aching spaces, and the hungry thing with its mouth wide open demands more, and he feels better. Through the pain and blood and bleary eyes, he feels better, too. Some dark place inside of him has been fed, and he thrives in that place, now. In the dark.

Abruptly, reality changes again. Abruptly, the boy on top of him is draining him of that same vitality, maybe in a different shape, but Edward feels himself losing— himself. Like lungs taking a breath of much-needed air suddenly made breathless again.

He barely has time to process any of this before the boy is a beast. Dimly, Little recognises the creature as a wolf, the very same beast that lives beneath his own breast. On some level, he knows all of the pieces of this can be no coincidence, that all of this surrounds him too well: darkness, hunger, beast — but he can't make sense of it all.

The wolf bites him, and he screams. It's out loud but it's also in his head, in a place he's never been able to access before, an ability sucked right out of Kate Marsh — the scream sounds in the minds of those in the near vicinity, loud and howling.

He isn't a fighter (a killer, Wynonna told him. You've never been a killer and you aren't one now.) And maybe the truth of it is that Edward Little has wanted to die for a very long time. But there are people he has to live for, he's realised that time and time again. He can't leave Kate alone to this. He has to protect her—

He's still screaming, maybe just in his mind now, mouth wet and gasping, but he hits the wolf as hard as he can, and his knee shoves up and into it as hard as he can, and there's an anger that pulses up under everything. It won't be enough to do anything now, maybe he knows that, too. He's bleeding and broken in places and the wolf can rip him to shreds. He doesn't even have the strength to unleash his own beast form.

But he grits his teeth and his lip peels back enough to expose them (and even in his human form, his canines are sharp, fangy, and he bares them right back at the wolf) and his eyes are hard and angry and his scream becomes a roar. He tries. It never will be enough.

[castitas]

One moment, there is Tim on top of the Lieutenant and she's babbling slurred, clumsy pleas for it all to stop over the empty echoes pain that rattle around in her. The next, everything shifts and Tim's changing— even if it doesn't all completely register to her. Twisting and reforming of limbs, skin shifting to fur, fabric tearing — Kate trembles, staring with wide eyes. Wolf.

One rearing to look at her and snarling at her, bearing teeth. Fear snaps into her eyes and she flinches, crushing herself into the pew — breath and sobs sticking in her throat.

The wolf bites before she can yell out and even that yell is quickly cut off.

It's one thing to hear him scream, but it's not just that— it's inside her, scraping the insides of her skull, something raw and sharp and— she grips at her head, crying out in pain, curling up into herself, legs kicking uselessly stop it stop it stop it—

She wants Edward Little to stop screaming, she wants to the wolf to stop biting. She wants both of them to stop. And she's crying out for Wynonna again, pleading for her: Wynonna, please— please, God, help—

The screaming continues, tearing at the insides of her mind— she wants it's to stop—

The wolf's going to kill him. Tim's going to kill him. And she'll never forgive either of them for it: Tim for killing, Edward for dying.

She loves Edward Little. She loves Tim Drake, too.

But if Edward Little dies, they all lose.

Her hands flail, reaching up above her, onto the little ledge of the pew— trying to reach for something, anything. Her fingers brush against soft leather and she grabs at it, heavy and clumsy in her hands. She tries to find a better grip on it. It's a good weight.

She hurls the Bible with as much force as she can at the wolf. Her face is red and wet with tears, her eyes desperate and filled with horror.

Her voice finally finds her, and it's a scream: overwhelmed with pain, fury and desperation: "STOP IT—!"

She doesn't have sharp teeth, she doesn't bite. But she has a voice, and love, and a shiny new spine.

cw: reference to attempted hanging

[pacificator]

There's always a girl, crying and helpless. In her head, Kate screams Wynonna and Waverly screams Willa and all three of them merge into one another, innocents caught in a crossfire, dark gold hair and blue eyes and a drowning sorrow none of them can ever really shake.

This is not the first time she's slammed her way out of a saloon to run to a rescue.

(Over a hundred years ago, a man — a hard man, maybe a good man, maybe a complicated man — waged a war against the evils of his world, against the things that snap and stab, steal and cut. To win a war, you need a weapon. To wield a weapon, you need a champion. And when that champion dies, a brimstone curse licking fire around the edges of their grave, you need someone to pick that weapon up and continue the fight. An heir.)

Her leg aches where a bite, burrowed down into the muscle of her thigh, is still torn and raw, but she can't feel it as she barrels out of the old Post Office and into the cold, snow and mud and gravel spraying as she pelts through the town to the little church. Kate is begging in her head, and she's turning the corner, losing her footing; she's pulling up to the homestead to see Waverly there tip-toe on a stool, a noose around her neck.

A scream splits her head and for a moment she feels the earth shake again under her feet, threatening to rip her open the way rock and soil and roots have torn apart here. She knows that scream, even if she's never heard it before. She'll never be able to not hear it ever again.

The last time someone hurt Edward Little, she tore them apart, literally, with her bare hands, and that was before the dream of the bear, the constantly simmering rage pooling in her stomach, the blind need to protect what's hers—

—The Milton church isn't large. It was built for this small town, not a great city and large congregation or to host grand events. Its doors are not the massive, imposing things of a cathedral, heavy enough to withstand battalions. Wynonna Earp hits them with the implacable fury of a bolt of divine lightning, and they blow open before her like screen doors in a summer storm.

Her hair is mussed from her run, her jeans soaked; not the usual picture of an avenging angel, despite the gimlet eyes and the fury burning through her. But she'd reached for Peacemaker in the same moment she raised her booted foot to slam into the double doors, and now her arm lifts as she marches into the church, down the aisle, without breaking stride. The Buntline Special's nose points toward heaven as she pulls the trigger. In the open, Peacemaker is loud, startling; inside, it's an avalanche of sound, rolling like thunder, the acoustics of the building helpfully pushing it along.

She takes it in: the wolf, the man, the girl, the shredded clothes cast around the struggle. Wynonna has always chafed under authority, but she wields it now like she wields that gun: voice sharp, a tool of promised violence if she's not obeyed, and immediately. "Get back."

[ployboy]

There's a scream; Tim wouldn't have survived as long as he has if screams weren't able to be heard but put away into a soundproof box at the very back of his mind. To deal with later. But not right now. Right now Tim's ears are forward and he learns- he doesn't hear anything. Not from the man.

He tastes blood and it's warm and delicious.

His tongue presses hot against cloth and flesh. He breathes in the vanity of this man's fear and then-- along with Kate's shouts, raw and hurt, Tim feels pain. Just under his jaw. His teeth snap together, his mouth kicked, and Tim tastes his own blood now too. He would not have survived as long as he has if he couldn't ignore pain. Deal with it later.

Kate screams.

Tim growls around his mouthful of prey. He cannot sink his teeth in any deeper and he cannot let go of the leg, so Tim drives forward into the man's anger, incensed, four paws scrambling and scratching as he wills his back teeth to-- he doesn't know. Grow, maybe.

Something hits his head. His snout, particularly.

And Tim hears something else, ears on a swivel despite the thud-thud-thud of adrenaline that's become Him.

It's his mistake to have perked his ears.

The pain is electric.

Tim screams. He's not used to this.

His mouth is too-warm and dripping and he's panting hard, tongue lolling and red. And then-- Tim's not used to this.

Wynonna.

He scents her before he sees her because he doesn't see her. Doesn't have to. He knows she's there. He knows she's--

here to protect.

She's here for her Pack.

She's here to help.

His tail wags, low and yielding and relieved and twitchy.

He doesn't hear what she says. His head is swimming in black pain, all of it concentrated between his eyes since the gunshot rang out. But he knows

(The wolf gravitates to Kate-- to be between her and the Lieutenant.)

he knows

Wynonna had said

STAY AWAY

and he will keep Kate away from the evil.

[fidior]

With a jolt of fresh alarm he hears words voiced in a scream — Kate — and the wolf's jaws are locked into him and he can't tell where its teeth end and his flesh begins. Maybe it bites down harder, maybe it's letting go, he doesn't know. His mind is swirling, reeling, he's in so much pain it's almost numbing.

There's a slam of sound, as calamitous as a disaster, a storm, a tidal wave. All of a sudden, Wynonna Earp stands there in the doorway of the church, and it shouldn't be possible that she's there, but something in Edward so immediately accepts the sight through the whirlwind of dizzy pained haze skewing his senses: of course Wynonna is here. Wynonna's always there, somehow, when he needs her to be, and his heart swells with a surge of affection and relief through his own horror.

It's split-seconds before the shot sounds, piercing everything, so loud it seems to rattle the very foundation they're in, or maybe that's in his mind, maybe it's his mind that's shaking and crumbling in at the corners. He gasps loudly, frightened, overwhelmed, but he also realises that at some point the wolf has let go of him. The deep pain makes it difficult to think, or move, but somehow he manages to get his arm up, blocking his throat in case the beast comes back for him. Around his arm, his wide, wild eyes find Wynonna and stay there and then he's looking around for Kate as much as he can, though he can't move much.

There's an attempt to shove himself away from the wolf, an agonised cry as he forces his body upwards a little, the smell of his own blood so nauseating that his eyes squeeze shut. He can feel it, slick beneath him as he pants for breath, blood smearing across the floorboards (sorry Dorian that both of my characters have left blood on the church floors, it's weird that it's happened twice)

He forces his eyes back open, realises the wolf (Tim, this is Tim) has moved towards Kate just enough that it sends a spark of alarm through Edward again. But he knows Wynonna will help her, doesn't doubt it for any instant, so he just nods to the woman — quick and wide-eyed, some wordless affirmation.

Wynonna's here. Everything will be okay now.

[castitas]

Kate yelps when the gun goes off, his hands over her ears, head ducking. The end is swift and sharp and she's holding her breath, eyes squeezed tight — nauseous and dizzy from the pain she can still put no words to. Wynonna is here, and it comes with a balm and after a few moments, she's finally daring herself to look.

The wolf is Tim, and he's no on the Lieutenant but coming towards her — putting space between her and the him. Kate inhales tightly, still choking on sobs. Tim couldn't turn into a wolf before, surely he would have told her that was a thing he could do, right? She doesn't know why he can do this, or if he's even safe—

there's blood around his muzzle. Edward Little's blood. And that's all she can stare at: a panting maw, dripping and bloodied and filled with so many sharp teeth.

She's backing away from him, letting out soft whine of fear — even when there's nowhere left for her to go. She's already pressed tightly against the pew, her feet scrambling against the floorboard. She pulls her knees in close, tries to make herself smaller: get back, get back—

She doesn't want him near her.

But then, she worries— what if Wynonna shoots Tim—

She still doesn't Tim to die.

"Wynonna, don't shoot the wolf—!" she cries out from the pew, she still doesn't dare come out, keeps herself pressed there. "It's Tim."

[pacificator]

The fucking wolf — and she saw the clothes, she knows it's an Interloper, it's the only thing that's saved the cur from Peacemaker's vengeance — does the exact opposite of what she says, moving away from Edward only to corner Kate there in the pew, snarling, teeth and mouth red and wet and those teeth had been in Edward's body, tearing at his flesh and in a small, calm corner of her mind she thinks maybe she really will kill it anyway, Interloper or not.

But Edward's still moving, even if it's clear he's shocked and in pain, his blood smearing bright against the wooden floor. When she meets his eyes, they're huge with terror and agony — she can see the whites all around his dark irises — but he nods to her and his voice is somehow in her head in a way it never has been before, shattered and babbling. It's impossible to pick out any one phrase or cohesive sentence, but two things are immediately clear: relief at seeing her and fear for Kate. He gives her a quick nod, as firm as she thinks he can probably make it in his current condition, and she gives him a tiny jerk of her head in response before sweeping by him, Peacemaker leveling out in her hand—

And then Kate cries out, and for the first time since crashing out of the saloon, Wynonna's step hitches. "Tim?"

She turns to the wolf, with its wet and slavering mouth and spindly legs and raised hackles and... waving tail. Bemused fury rises, flickering in her jaw and flattening her eyes as she makes for him. "Tim!"

Of course it's Tim. So what do we do now, chief? he asks in her memory, a gold-glinting charcoal-colored string taut between them and she doesn't put Peacemaker away, but when she lunges its to sink the fingers of her left hand hard into the scruff of his stupid neck and now she's the one snarling, teeth bared. "I said get back!"

For a second, she considers shifting, herself, the wolf in her head and chest howling, blunt claws scratching at the lining of her gut, but the bear is there, too, huge and hulking and stronger than she'd ever managed to be on her own, and she takes that strength and puts every ounce of it into hauling Tim-the-wolf up and back, dragging him from his spot in front of Kate and unceremoniously half-shoving, half-flinging him back down the aisle, as bodily as she's able. "What the hell is wrong with you? That's Kate!"

goodbye farewell and amen

[ployboy]

For the first time, outside of the flinch after the thunder that cracked right through the folds of his brain, his ears flatten. The human in him (and isn't it weird- to think of a human as a part of him and not him, entirely) has been here before as an Unknown to be feared; the wolf isn't used to this, doesn't like it.

And maybe Tim's never liked it either, but--

irrelevant.

His ears are flat, the short tail is still swinging between the hocks of his back legs but now in a quicker staccato. Tim licks his lips in what he knows is a nervous gesture and he can't make himself stop it-- there's Power in how Wynonna is moving

moving towards the wrong

--wait, does she think...?

She does.

For the second time, Tim shouts: black lips pull impossibly back and he's... gagging, he realizes. Too late, he realizes- he can't defend himself. Wynonna has an iron grip on his neck; too coarse uneven brittle fur does nothing to stave away the sensation of not having air. Tim is used to that. The animal is not.

All he breathes in, in a wet choked gasp, is blood.

And then he can't feel his back legs.

He doesn't know when it happened; now he's gasping and coughing and all of his face is blood, and for a panicky moment he cannot move all four of his awkward and long legs. He's flat against hardwood floor, far from the Others. He's coughing. His ear are low, his tail swinging-- hopeful... hopeful...

He is not a member of this Pack.

He is an Other.

Through sheer will- fright- hope-- no: understanding, the wolf makes haste.

The doors.

It makes sense, even as he stumbles one- two- three times on unsteady feet.

Tim is not needed.

He would rather die than hinder.

The doors.

Kate has Power now, Power on her side:

she will be okay.

She will be okay.

He runs.

[pacificator]

Tim— skeedaddles, which is the first sign of intelligence she's seen from him in a while, but she doesn't holster Peacemaker until he's out the church doors and vanishing into the world outside. Then, she slides the old Buntline Special rapidly home as she turns and quickly moves to Edward, slumped there on the floor. His leg is bleeding, but it doesn't look like Tim hit an artery; she takes his hand and presses it, palm down, on the wound, hard. "Keep pressure on it," she tells him, already rising to her feet. "I'll be right back."

The place — and the people in it — are in shambles. She hurries to the pew where Kate had shrunk back away from Tim's sharp jaws and awkwardly half shuffles, half drags her knee over the seat of the bench until she reaches the girl and can wrap an arm around her. "Are you okay?"

She pulls back enough to glance over her, and she looks okay, if scared and shocked and too pale for Wynonna's liking. She runs a quick hand over Kate's mussed hair and hugs her again before her head turns like it's on a swivel, directing her bemused question to both of them. "What the hell happened? Why did Tim attack you?"

She knew he didn't like Edward, but he'd never seemed like he'd attack any of the Interlopers... and definitely not Kate. She'd been pretty sure she could trust him on that.

She doesn't know what to think right now, as she gets a hand behind Kate's back to help the girl up.

[fidior]

Later, he'll reflect on this fever-dream memory as much as he can, and see all the parts and pieces that he failed at. The wolf is Tim, his logical brain knows that, but the rest of him is all foggy stun and none of this can possibly be real, and he doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't say anything. Wynonna, if she's real too, could kill the boy. Later, he'll realise he might have helped caused another young man's death.

Fortunately, Kate says it from where she is, unseen, a million miles away — don't shoot, it's Tim, Wynonna don't shoot, it's Tim — the words play in loop in Edward's head as he gasps for breath, blinking hard against his own blurry eyes which don't work quite right. He's never been bitten by a wild animal before. It's one of his worst fears, after seeing what Tuunbaq was capable of; it's a fear that's lived in him for all this time. He realises he's shuddering uncontrollably and he doesn't know if it's from pain or that fear. He tries to pay attention, watching as Wynonna drags the wolf back, but there's a sudden overwhelming wave of fear for her as she nears the beast with its bloody dripping mouth and dagger teeth.

Cries and protests and horror claw at the inside of his mind and break out, infiltrating those around him. He doesn't even know this, can't control it, but then the beast is running off. He can't tell if it's truly gone, can't see that far from where he half-sits up. Suddenly— Wynonna's there in front of him, telling him what to do and he does it without a second thought, keeps his hand pressed to hot wet. (He's freshly fed what he needs, and he's still gaping for air like a newborn, like a baby bird with a wide-open mouth, mindlessly hungry, because it wasn't enough. He's still hungry.)

Wynonna getting near to him again leaves him dizzy and dumb, and the nails of his other hand scrape the wood beneath him. He could eat her alive.

What the hell happened?

What the hell happened? What's happening? Edward fluctuates between being lost and being grounded by specific words and concepts. She brings him back down to Earth again with that question, and with it comes another sweep of pure horror as he realises and then fights to see it clearly in the next beat. (It's real, it's real, no, it's a nightmare—)

Help, he's saying it in his mind, not explicitly meaning to broadcast it to her, but his gaping mouth can't quite find the words so they play out in his head instead, loud and crying. He doesn't realise they go right to Kate, too. Help me. Help her. Hurt her, I hurt her, I'm so hungry—

Then words are spilling from his mouth, or at least he thinks they are, rushing out in a shuddering spill. He's alarmed, desperate; Kate's been talking (screaming, pleading) so he knows she's not dead, but she's not okay and what if she's dying now, falling away? He can't reach her. He tries, body moving against all its blood, crying out with pain and ignoring it all in the same breath as one hand grabs for the nearest pew, trying to force himself up. He has to go to her. He has to help Kate.

"Is she all right? Kate— is she— is she all right?!"

[castitas]

She can't see much from where she is, but she can hear the thud of Wynonna's boots as she makes her way down the aisle towards Tim. And Tim's being grabbed by the scruff and hurled away from her — towards the doors, the exit — Kate's eyes going wide at the sight. She doesn't have much room in her to process more than that: Tim's making a run for it out the doors and it allows some part of her to grasp that it's over now, maybe. Kate exhales shakily, filled with aching and upset and there's more tears spilling from her eyes — her face a mix of pale skin, blotched with red.

Wynonna's shuffling into the pew, reaching for her and Kate doesn't know how to answer the first question. She sits there stunned, barely reacting to the woman's hugs and fussing. There's a long delay, and all she can do is shake her head. No, she's not okay. Anything else would be a lie.

Wynonna has more questions, and Kate doesn't have answers either. But she hears the Lieutenant's, her head turning in his direction. She can't see him but she can hear his words in her head: Help me. Help her. Hurt her, I hurt her, I'm so hungry—

She still doesn't understand what happened. But she knows he... hurt her, somehow.

"I— I don't know." she says to Wynonna, and then her voice drops. Kate looks to Little's direction before back to her. "There's— there's something wrong with him. He... he did something. He wouldn't let go— and— Tim was there and he got him off me and it just—"

She doesn't know. It was just— messed up.

She's slow to get back on her feet, unsteady even with Wynonna's help — like a newborn fawn trying to work out how its legs work. She feels so tired and sore and weak, and she has to rest her weight both on the pew and Wynonna to keep herself upright, swaying a little. She doesn't feel— right.

Kate doesn't look mad when she sees him, now that's upright. She's not angry, just— unsure, frightened. Of him. She doesn't know what it is he's done to her, how he's hurt her. But he— he did. Something's wrong with him and he hurt her. And even then she's still scared for him, for what Tim's done. She stares across at him, equal parts concern and betrayal and fear.

Her mouth doesn't move, but he'll hear it inside his own mind: What did you do?

[pacificator]

The answer that comes isn't the one she expects, and it's not how she expects it, either. Edward's voice is suddenly in her head, everywhere, rambling and unsteady and saying a bunch of things she wishes she couldn't understand, and Kate's looking pale and shattered, and Tim was a wolf. Since when could Tim be a wolf?

There's something wrong with him, Kate says, clinging to her, and Wynonna thinks about the way his eyes had gone so black, how he'd tried to move away from her that night he came to her cabin, how he'd let her go like he was ripping himself away, saying it was too dangerous—

Realization falls on her in a rockslide, and she rolls her head to give him a disbelieving look, fury edging around her shock and surprise like flames licking around a sheet of paper. "Oh, you idiot."

Despite the thrill of horror chasing through her, Wynonna's hand is gentle as she takes Kate's arm, drawing the girl carefully behind her as she moves forward, putting herself as a barrier between Kate and the man they both— the the man who's cared for her and kept her safe for so long, only to shatter everything in a moment of weakness.

The movement puts Kate behind her, which is good. It also frees up her right hand, which comes to rest, ready, on Peacemaker's ivory grip.

Doc could make it look a lot more casual. Wynonna's too tense for that, head lowering, eyes intent on Edward. "The hunger?"

Goddammit, she'd told him, he needed to control it before it controlled him, and now he's hurt the one person he'd rather die than hurt and all she can feel is simmering upset and rage. "What the hell, Little? I fucking told you— and you went after Kate? Are you kidding me?"

She grimaces and shakes her head like a dog with water in its ears. "And can someone please explain to me why I can hear you in my head and why Tim is a wolf now?"

[fidior]

Kate's fumbling, dazed words make it all real. If there were any lingering disconnect between himself and the impossible reality before him, it's made solid and whole by the girl's reply. 'there's something wrong with him, he did something, he wouldn't let go'

Edward's stomach drops with a nauseating sinking that almost sends him reeling sideways. He sways where he's half-sitting up, feels his shoulder against the pew nearest him, the smell of his own blood swirling through his senses. Then comes Wynonna — 'oh, you idiot' — and he can't see Kate but he can see the older woman as she looks around at him for that brief moment inbetween helping Kate, anger steeling her eyes into shades of ice as she helps draw the girl up into his line of vision. Edward flinches from the sharp daggers in Wynonna's gaze; he draws in a ragged sound that's supposed to be a breath but sounds more like a gasp, having to force air into his lungs.

'what did you do?'

Kate's up and his eyes finally find her, looking back at him like he's an animal she's not sure is safe or not to approach, hurt and fearful and barely able to stand upright. What did you do?

He stares up at her, eyes wide and mouth open. His rambling thoughts have abruptly frozen in him, everything going still and silent. He doesn't know how to answer what Kate asks — as he looks at her, he can see that something's— wrong, he's made her wrong, but how?

What did he... feed on? What is it that he feels inside of him now, that he craves more of— no, not him, this isn't him. There's some darkness, some demon, he would never want to harm her—

Her... spirit? Her vitality? Life, Wynonna said, my life.

He's stricken, numb. It's Wynonna's question that pulls a response from him again, and his eyes tear from Kate's tear-stained face and snap down to the hand that rests at the gun. He might do something again. Might try to hurt someone again. Wynonna is protecting Kate from him, and the horror of that realisation feels like a punch.

"I— I thought it was under my control, I didn't—" He's breathless, as though the wind's been knocked out of him. He's in a great deal of pain. He's still hungry. "I would never...—" And yet he had. With one simple touch, one simple movement.

His eyes swim; he finds Kate again. Looking at her is a different kind of pain; his heart wrenches itself into beats, his eyes plead. "Kate. I—"

There's apology there in him, but he can't even voice that much. How could he? How could he ask to be forgiven? Of course he couldn't. Wynonna's question demands an answer once more, and he shrinks back as though from her, one arm wrapping around himself, slumping back.

"I don't know. I don't— understand. Mr. Drake...did something to me, too. It hurt—" Different from the other hurts, the physical tearing, the clamp of jaws and weapons. Edward winces sharply against his own shallow breathing, too-aware now of his own injury.

Can... hear him in her head. Wynonna can hear him? The way people can hear Kate. And Tim's a wolf now, the way Edward can be. He felt strong and vital so briefly, and then Tim took something from him, weakened him again.

"I think we— we took something. We fed." That word makes him flinch again with another shuddering sound. He fed on Kate. And Tim... fed on him...? Edward's eyes flutter, voice hoarse. He feels lost, able to latch only onto the concept of fixing whatever he'd done to Kate.

"I don't know what to do. What... do I do...? I have to help her..." He reaches his other arm up towards the girl, weak and fumbling, as though he could grasp hold of what's wrong, make it right.

[castitas]

There is a conversation here. An understanding. One that Kate's not privy to, one she doesn't understand. But it's something that Wynonna and Edward do. Something Lieutenant Little could do and Wynonna knew about it. Every inch of her hurts, even if the sharpness of it has gone now. It's more of an ache now. She feels heavy and sick. Her eyes flit between the two of them, unsure, but— they're something going on here, she knows that.

Edward Little did something to her, something she can't put words to right now. Something he knew he could do, something Wynonna knew he could do.

Something that Tim can do, too.

He'd done it to the Lieutenant, just as he'd done to Kate. Tim couldn't turn into a wolf, before. He— he turned into a wolf— she saw that. Saw it happen.

Kate shrinks behind Wynonna as soon as she moves between her the and the Lieutenant. A buffer, a shield — and she's grateful for it, as much as her mind reels from it all. She clings to the back of Wynonna's jacket, exhausted and feverish. Her stomach churns, and she wants to throw up from fear and anger and hurt—

She feels so small.

And yet he's calling for her, desperately — trying to reach for her. Kate's shaking her head, cowering away. "No, no—" she utters, panicked. "Please, don't—"

Doesn't want him near her—

"You hurt me, you—" her own voice is hoarse, her head sinks low. "I just— I just— I thought you were sick, and I— I don't—"

Her head shakes, "I feel— wrong—"

She looks so wounded, and in amongst the fear of what's happened is betrayal—

"Tim tried to stop him, only— only he— he was going to—" she doesn't want to put words to it, but she knows exactly what Tim would have done. And it feels like another betrayal. "I wanted them both to stop."