Smoke and Mirrors

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)

Summary:

"Did you know gods die?"

"...interesting post sex talk, but I'll go with it," John quipped. "How? I thought gods, if they exist, are immortal."

"There are rules. Everyone lives by rules. You eat, because it feeds your cells, which allows complicated chemical processes to flourish and run the machine that is your body. Gods have rules as well." Sebastian closed his eyes, and let himself scent the air, still holding John close. There was still energy leaking off of him, and he let it lap over him. After being hungry for so long, he'd accustomed himself to starving, constantly starving. "Some crossover, but most starve."

"Okay, well… that's interesting," John said. He huffed a laugh. "Gods starve to death huh? Well, they wouldn't get much eating off of us, would they?"

Chapter 1

He couldn't remember where he was on the color and word of the day chart any more.

It was stupid to be frustrated by that, but he'd been tracking day by bloody day in his mind and somewhere in the last handful of days he'd let more than that slip though his fingers.

Being a prisoner of war was as horrifying as any of the briefings had said, but he'd reached a point where he was starting to believe either he was going delusional, or they had been lacing his very limited water with opium or something. The torture sessions had somehow become strange in his head, and he was starting to feel worried he was going insane. He was a doctor, he knew the reaction people could have under this sort of stress, but this was like his mind going off the rails in a hallucinatory fashion rather than dissociating.

He was mostly sure they'd cut one of his fingers off, but it was still there. He’d felt it, felt the nauseating pain and juddering of bone being sawn through slowly as he screamed and screamed until something blindingly overwhelming in his head had wiped out consciousness - and then had awoken to see ten whole fingers tied still in front of him. He'd seen them behead a man in front of him, again unable to stop the urge to do something he fought and yelled against the restraints imagining he could feel every hideous cut - only to have the victims neck tissue start to knit back together before his eyes, and the kidnappers had hastily hacked the man apart again as he degenerated into some form of delirium. It was, John was quite sure, raw opium he was being fed.

He'd been moved somewhere one night, might have even been longer than a night because his time sense was shot as well as all other senses. Things were even weirder here. It was like they weren't interested as much in the 'confess infidel' tactic and more in the violence and torture and brain washing techniques. Unless he was mentally filtering that bit because memories had become fragmentary and he had scars on his arms that looked old but he didn’t remember them from before.. His skin felt tight on him somehow even though physically it was loose with rapid weight loss, but he felt like he was full of ...something, stuffed over full like he might vomit up a nest of snakes that had taken up residence under his skin and in his stomach.

Yeah, definitely opium.

For the moment, it was quiet, but the roiling sensation wouldn't ebb back as he sat on his thin mattress and listened to the sounds of new people being brought in. British voices, protests and anger, fresh and healthy for the moment.

It didn't last. They didn't last, but for some reason he did, and he tried to save the others but that might be wish fulfillment and delusion.Maybe the doctor thing was why they didn’t kill him. He remembered being allowed to treat people sometimes. Or was that before this happened?

There was a noise at the door and he wasn't sure if he was to be brought out, or someone brought in. For some reason his body isn't functioning right so his days of making a lunge for the door were long past. He’d tried, over and over, at least he thought he had. They'd chained him somehow, as if he was somehow potentially threatening. For god's sake he was a military doctor, not SAS or whatever and his attempts at escape had been in reality more an attempt to end this torture. Maybe he had wigged out under the drugs or something - he remembered deep, deep fear that engulfed him on occasions but the feeling submerged the content of whatever had happened.

He couldn't remember, but it almost surprised him when they pushed someone into the room, smell of blood sharp in the air as a tall soldier fell in on the floor and the door shut again.

Immediately, there was that weird feeling of pain drawing him closer and he half dragged himself over to where the man had fallen and was half rolling and groaning at the same time. It was like he couldn't stop himself, as if he was hungry somehow. Bloody drugs.

"Hey.." His voice was cracked with disuse and screams. "Hold still."

"Uhn?" He rolled onto his back, not holding still at all, and his eyes were slotted tight like a cat's.

Perhaps it had been the sleep deprivation training as a young doctor, but he found the words coming straight away and his actions too as he did the examination. "What's your name? Can you hear me? I'm a doctor… where does it hurt?" Leg, it hurt on his right leg, he knew that without touching him.

Why did he know that? "Colonel Moran, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." Name and unit and that was it.

"Captain John Watson, surgeon- I was originally attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, before they detached our medical corp to go with the Berkshires," John answered as he made the examination. He felt an almost magnetic pull to the leg, clinking the chain as he shifted. " Bill Gubbins stayed on as Surgeon after I left. He still there?"

The man was suspicious, he didn't know how he knew but it was obvious.

He could almost hear the man's shift in response, a change in his tension. "Christ. Yeah, yeah, Bill's still with us. Was. I don't... know."

"Been away from the unit long?" There, a definite break. It was like he could see through the flesh to it all. Clean enough if he could get it back together. "Broken leg Colonel. You okay if I manhandle this?"

"Been three months. You've been MIA longer. Go for it." He waved one hand bluntly, head lolling back against the ground. "Lots of soldiers missing, we could exchange notes..."

"Okay, breathe in, that's it." He placed his hands over the injury and had that peculiar painful build of tension again, before he wrenched the bone back into place and there was a jolt of pain that ran through him like white lightning in his bones and...goddamn it right into his cock. What the fuck. As he breathed out, it was like something spilled out off him, warmth, heat as he tried to steady himself, relieving a little of that pressure somehow that made his skin tight.

He sighed, exhaled in a shiver, and the man below him was gasping and twisting for a moment, mouth open and teeth bared before he seemed to calm, and those drugs were awful.

He felt dizzily high, as he pulled back, and his hands movement over the Colonels body were possibly more familiar than diagnosis should be.

"Sorry," John mumbled. "They're feeding me drugs right now. Everything is a bit weird. " For a moment it felt like the skin was long fur under his hands.

"Can imagine." Sebastian exhaled in a huff, panting through the pain John supposed. "Glad they put me in here with you. Thought that was going to kill me."

"Sorry, some of what they do might make you wish they had," John said quietly. "I don't know where we are, but these guys like the fucking torture games." He had a nasty feeling they were trying to brainwash him or something because it was like they pumped him with something to become high when it happened.

His reaction to pain had always a been a little…

Fucked up. Now, now he was getting a raging hardon setting a broken leg and no one was even goading it on.

"Tell me some of it?" The man rubbed a hand hard at his own hip as if he was trying to ground himself. John had seen soldiers do that as well, seen all the ways men tried to cope with pain when there weren't options.

"I remember weird shit." John said a bit vaguely. "Sometimes it's one on one but recently they've taken to taking in a group of us. You never know if it'll be you as the focus or not. Beatings, whipping, mutilation, rape." John shook his head. It was like it became too much, trying to reach the others, almost begging for it to be him. He didn't understand. He never understood those sessions, he often ended up unconscious even if he hadn't been the centre of attention.

"Same." Colonel Moran sat up slowly, staying close to John and watching him. "They had this guy chained to a chair in the middle of the room, when they broke my leg. He died that night and they just moved us survivors... No one touched him."

"I'm the last of the group that came through with me," John said. "I don't get it, why they are keeping me alive. They don't ask for anything. Makes no sense." He blinked a bit dizzily steadying himself with a hand on the other man and blinked for a moment he could see cats eyes filling his mind, and other things that made no sense. "Sorry, I think I'm losing my grip on things."

"I think your grip on things is just great, major." The man was looking steadily at him, expression hard in a way. "They're testing us, John. Survival of the strongest."

"What the fuck for?" John said. He shuffled back so he could lean against the wall, and the warmth of the other man. It got cold at night in this shithole.

Broken leg reset or not, the colonel moved with him, body heavy with exhaustion. "You don't know, do you?"

"...No?" John answered. "Know what?" What was there to know? They had been captured, tortured for… wow, well over 3 months, who knew and they were all sadistic assholes.

The man made a quiet noise, and looked thoughtfully at John, before pressing his shoulders against the wall. "Do you believe in ghosts, major?"

"...No." No, he'd seen Private Jenkins, but that had been Post Traumatic Stress, for all he told him where to find their bodies. No. And his mother....no that was just a kids wishful thinking. "No. Any aberrations are aberrations."

The man laughed, rough sounding, and tilted his head a little. "You're alive because of the strength of your aberration, I think."

"Christ, I have no idea what you are talking about," John groaned. "I'd say make a break for it if you can, but you've got a broken leg."

"It's healing." He was close, close enough that John was aware of how badly they both had to smell, sweat and old blood coming closer to some ammonia tinge than he was comfortable with. "I think you and I might be able to make it out of here, doctor."

John didn't have the strength to snort at that. It came out as more of a sigh. "Yeah, sure," he said and wondered how long that attitude would last.

---

There was a certain edge to a Sensitive who was on the edge of converting into something, and the balled up energy in the air made him wonder if Major Watson was going to be the next sensitive dead in the middle of a room full of pain and chaos.

Seb was sure the doctor was a sensitive, and he was starting to think that the ones who held them knew that too. But what the hell were they doing? Sensitives felt the pain of others, had to deal with it or it would eventually kill them. That seemed par for the course. John had dragged himself over to his broken leg instinctively and healed it just like that indicating a strong talent that was manifesting in a time of need - pretty much what you would expect. So why were they immersing him so constantly in what had to be the sensitives equivalent of psychic acid by exposing him to torture of himself and other? To drugs and if he didn’t miss his guess, the tell tales of some form of brain washing process too. And where was that tingle like ozone coming from?

John, clearly, but why was the question. The broken leg hadn't been as bad for him as it might've been for another soldier, but he felt much better after John had touched him than he had any right to, and it left his brain spinning as memories crowded up in his head. Bones pulled out of joint, sockets twisted, being raped slowly, fast, electricity, and he struggled for a moment to not turn, to not unleash himself, but why was he thinking those things so sharply while his leg seemed to improve?

"Eh. 'S that you doing that?"

John seemed to be struggling to focus. "Wha.." he managed. If it was John, John had no clue. Obviously he'd never done direct healing before because he seemed to think it was hallucinatory.

"Healing my leg," he murmured, waiting for the response. "And sifting through my suffering."

"I set your leg Colonel, if that's what you mean" John answered. "Don't know what you mean about the rest. Sorry, think they lace the water here." He was exuding a siren song of energy that was hard to resist, and seemed unaware of it.

"Haven't had a drink since I got here," he half smiled, and on a whim reached a hand between them to palm the man's crotch.

He was more than half hard, and all the reaction he got from John was a startled opening of eyes but no dramatic protestations of being straight, or what the hells. Just..
"What're you doing?"

"You're getting off on this." No judgment, just a statement. "Are you... Processing my memories and...? I don't understand this."

"I don't know what you're talking about?" John asked. "This is another hallucination isn't it? Because you've got a broken leg, so you wouldn't feel like palming my cock."

"You're healing me," he countered, and bent his leg with careful care. It ached like an older wound, not a new one.

"No, don't bend -- how the hell are you moving your leg?" John blinked. "Jesus, that's it, I've cracked. You probably don't even exist."

it was wrong but he felt compelled to laugh. The man was having a real existential crisis. "Believe me I'm very real. And you are something very special, major." He was something he had never seen before, or heard of. A sensitive capable not just of withstanding pain, or being able to function despite it but he seemed to be actively converting it somehow, channelling it.

"Yeah well, all I'm doing is apparently hallucinating you being tortured and your hand on my cock and that's got to be a weird thing," he said.

"You're in my memories. I know because you're, I'm experiencing them all over again." Which wasn't a pleasant experience, but given that he had just met the man and his leg was already healing...

"Well, tell me how to stop," John said. "As you’re the hallucination that knows everything."

"Sorry. Not sure what you are, really. Never been good with sensitives." He squeezed the man's cock lightly through his trousers, not quite sure why, but going with it. He'd survived as long as he had by going with it.

"Oh god.." John moaned and little and gripped back at him. Interesting reaction, and there was a goading pull whispering him at him to do something, anything he wanted.

Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, and leaned in, breathing the thick smell of unclean skin, old sweat, blood, letting it filter through his senses before he licked the man's neck. In one way, the complete disbelief John had in everything worked in his favour, because teeth were coming in, the fur sprouting, and the claws elongating. Under the physical tastes, there was the rich, rich overwhelming taste of power humming under the other man’s skin.

And Sebastian was starting to make guesses where it was coming from, as weird as those pieces were, he could understand why John was possibly still alive. It had everything to do with the pain,

"Come on, stay with me..."

"You feel soft.. like fur," John was saying. He was clutching him tightly, the metal chain clinking on the ground. "Teeth… biting teeth." He seemed very intrigued by that but at least the sensation of having his memories being rifled had faded and was being replaced by a more general hunger.

It was easier to deal with than the sharp laughter and fingers on him that he hadn't been able to bite off. "Yes, lots of teeth. Let me help you open up to that energy a little..."

"Yeah, whatever you say as long as you keep doing whatever you're doing," John replied pressing against him. Touch starved except for pain. And why would he starve for pain when he was being fed a steady diet of it. There was no question that Watson was energy-fat on pain, like nothing Sebastian had ever seen before. They’d given him no other choice but to adapt his ability or die and with startling clarity the poor sods dying untouched in a room of torture victims made more sense. He licked the man's neck again and started pulling off clothes.

He could get himself back up to a decent fighting strength with a little power exchange because he knew how to feed on that energy. He had no idea how a sensitive could turn pain into power...he'd never heard of that happening, but he wasn't going to knock it. It might just get them the hell out of here.

And getting out of there was a great goal just then. Sebastian could quibble over the morals of it later, as he let himself go loose and finally got fingers on skin. He could see John's pupil's instantly dilate, and lean up to kiss at him, teeth and all. He definitely wanted him. It was surreal and strange, but there was lust definitely there.

Not even hidden or something he needed to work at to reveal. It was right there at the surface, waiting for a chance at the world. Sebastian was happy to oblige, stretching his hands, palming all of John as he kissed him back, leaning in to touch more with his other hand.

"Fuck ..." John breathed. "Yeah, do it to me, you want it, I want it...I don't care if I am hallucinating, you feel good."

"At this rate you're going to be sad that I'm real," Sebastian chuckled, giving John a hard squeezing stroke that he hoped would stimulate both parts of the man.

From the reaction it seemed to work, as his own hands were suddenly fumbling to find Seb's cock and he was rubbing at him instinctively. He wasn't going to stop, either, from the way he was going for it. It caught Seb a little off guard, but he thrust against John's fingers and curled his free hand tight against the man's left asscheek. "Yes, been, Christ, that feels good..."

It was something raw and a little frantic, but somehow the reality of their situation, in a filthy cell, prisoners, faded into the background. He could taste, smell, feel the power on the other man and his beast was hungry for it.

It would have been too easy to slip over entirely to the beast, but he was close enough in the middle space that he could taste it, savour it, take just enough to refill achingly empty storehouses in himself and savour the man’s moans and arching at the same time.

Somewhere in the moving and rubbing, he felt the moment when John lost control and came almost deliriously, the jolt travelling all the way through his body and hands in pure energy that fed a starving part of him that could use that energy..

He held on for it, felt it against his cock and arching into his stomach as John kept stroking him, fast hurried motions that lost their pace in the rush of orgasm.

It left them hot, stick and panting against each other, but Seb definitely felt a lot better for his energy snack.

"Well that was… unexpected," John managed as he lay there.

"Generally is." Sebastian leaned his forehead against John, slipping slowly back to human to conserve for a better opportunity. "Did you know gods die?"

"...interesting post sex talk, but I'll go with it," John quipped. "How? I thought gods, if they exist, are immortal."

"There are rules. Everyone lives by rules. You eat, because it feeds your cells, which allows complicated chemical processes to flourish and run the machine that is your body. Gods have rules as well." He closed his eyes, and let himself scent the air, still holding John close. There was still energy leaking off of him, and he let it lap over him. After being hungry for so long, he'd accustomed himself to starving, constantly starving. "Some crossover, but most starve."

"Okay, well… that's interesting," John said. He huffed a laugh. "Gods starve to death huh? Well, they wouldn't get much eating off of us would they?"

"They would off of you," Sebastian drawled, lifting his head to look at John. And he shouldn't have tasted, he really shouldn't because he was so hungry, so so hungry, and now he felt it, like an urge to throw up the little he'd had.

"Well, good to know I'm the equivalent of snacks for gods," John said. He frowned a little. "You okay? You don't fee... look okay?"

"Haven't eaten in a while." He watched the man's frown, and decided that they wouldn't wait patiently for a perfect plan. Couldn't.

John stared at him. "I have no idea what you are talking about. But right now I'm willing to do anything." It seemed to have provided him with more energy too which had implications too.

"You and I? We're going to get out of here. That's really all you need to worry about right now." They'd made a stupid mistake putting him in with a sensitive that was bubbling over, and he wasn't going to give them a chance to fix it. But what would a were-creature do even if given energy? What a shame for them he wasn’t just one of the Were-People.

"Okay, I believe you," John answered in a tone that very obviously indicated the opposite. He shifted his leg and the steel clanked. "When you've finish chewing through this, let me know."

Oh. Oh, obviously, and he felt like a fucking moron as he shifted gingerly to touch the edges of it. He had been restrained by iron and still managed that? That was fucking unbelivable. "Don't suppose your mum ever told you about fairies and cold iron, hmn? No, you probably grew up on bad science fiction..." He focused on claws, on having claws, on being sharp and fierce, and while it would take time, he could cut through it.

"I hope you are not going to take my foot off," John commented. "Mind you I considered gnawing it off myself at one point."

"You don't want my teeth anywhere near your ankle," Seb drawled, sharp black claws sliding from his fingertips, sharp as obsidian. "Tell me about yourself while I get this off you."

"Nothing much to tell," John said. "Hi, I'm John Watson, field surgeon, bloody good field surgeon actually but with a genius for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Unless he felt drawn to those places because he'd get the most out of it, if he really was a sensitive that could transmute the darker energies. "Some of us consider that a lifestyle choice, Major."

"Yeah, well… I'm not sure, what else is interesting. Not much family left, no real ties, blah, blah blah, got captured during an attack, been tortured a lot, drugged a lot,don’t remember a lot," he added. "So how are we getting out of here?

"Once I get this shackle off of you, we run for it." He felt sick with too much but still too little energy, and that was fine, that was something he could work with. "You good for it?"

"I guess. I mean, I'm not in top condition but if it means we escape, I'll bloody run," John said.

Good attitude. Particularly if they could get out of there before their captors came back. "We'll run. Just do what I say, and we'll get you home before they do anything else."

"If it gets me out of here, I'll do anything, " John said fervently. "Any idea where we are? What about the others?"

"... Not sure we can get them out." Sebastian hesitated, but kept cutting with determination. "We'll. I'll try."

“There must be something I can do to help then," John said, holding still. "Seriously Colonel, I'm part of this."

He batted absently at some sort of moth that decided to flutter between them in that moment, as if seeking something and zeroing in on him. He stared at it a moment and couldn't stop the grin. He recognised the moth’s markings. He tilted his head back, and started clawing at the iron faster. "The cavalry has found us. Looks like we won't have to fuck up rescuing ourselves."

"What's the cavalry then?" John asked as the moth took off and headed out of the barred window and presumably back to where Paul was hunting for him. He guessed the mage’s little seekers had been unable to find him until his energy peaked up enough to be located. He would get there eventually.

"My favorite battle Mage." He looked to John to see his facial expression of complete and utter disbelief. "And I wonder why you think you're hallucinating."

John just stared at him. "And a moth told you that?" he said slowly.

"It's one of Paul's seeking moths. Which again must sound crazy for you..." Sebastian kept clawing, slowly, sawing through metal. "My energy was too low for it to sense me until now."

John shook his head. "I don't care how, if it gets me out of here. Just assume I'm going along with all of it as you appear to be breaking that chain with your bare hands."

"Claws," Sebastian corrected, feeling nearly manically amused over the nausea.

"So you're like Wolverine now?" John half laughed weakly. "If I live through this, I'm never going to make it out of therapy. Fuck it, what can I do to help?"

"Hold still." He gave one last hard motion and broke the shackle. "There we go." Now it was just seeing how much cold iron had impeded the man.

Immediately there was a crackling greasy feel to the air, as if a massive static charge was building up looking for a point to be discharged. No wonder Watson felt loopy, he must be saturated. Whether he started this little conversion trick in sheer self defence from being immersed in torture, Seb didn't know, but what he did know was that unless, they got out of there sharpish, something big would happen.

John pushed himself up unsteadily, and stood straight. "Bugger me you did it," he said. "Feels good to be rid of that thing."

"Cold iron," Sebastian reiterated as he unsteadily stood up. Stood, and felt awe in that because Watson was still healing him without touching him. That was a hell of a spillover. "Right."

John was leaking energy like a sieve, and it seemed their close contact had awakened his own genetics because he was feeling fiercely possessive as well as hungry for more.

"You going to do that to the door then?"

"Yes." He leaned in closer to John, soaking up the lapping energy, and just letting it fill some of his empty spaces. "Not too much stalling, but I want the cavalry on the way."

"Wouldn't say no to a rescue. There must be some keys with someone," John said. He frowned a little and Seb felt a surge of energy sweep out from him. "I don't know if I'm just remembering but I think I must have seen it when they dragged me out, or picked up on it. Interrogation and torture area is left from the cells, down the corridor. Holding cells right and left up to there. To the right, usually two guards, armed, and keys. Above is quarters for the enemy soldiers, and a communication area. We're in a disguised compound, most of it built into the side of the mountain. There's an overhang… visual sorties and satellite do not see it as a base."

"You just sensed that." It was hard to not feel and sound incredulous when he said it, but the man was so far reaching from too much power just then...

"Must have seen it," John said hesitantly. "I've been here a long time. they've dragged me up and down a few times. You pick bits up."

"Yeah."

Sure. Sebastian leaned away, and stretched, letting himself shiver over to a stronger in between point, in a stretch of energy. "Do you feel ready enough?"

"As I'll ever be," he replied and Seb considered. Paul had ways to move fast in an emergency that meant the bastard could even keep up with him. He would get there any moment. Hopefully. Until then, he would have to wing it.

"Then stay close to me."

Because he needed the energy as much as the man could benefit, maybe, from his protection. And Sebastian wasn't going to fool himself and think his protection was worth much of anything just then without the energy. He turned to the door, and started to yank at the hinges.

Noone out there. Even in a semi weakened state, he could sense that much. He could hear voices down the corridor. Dark and dingy, but no match for his vision. There were people still here alive and half of him wanted to snarl and run for freedom.

But John wanted to rescue, and for the long term, yeah, the other men would be soldiers and he was a good officer as well as a jaguar godling. They needed to be rescued.

Keys then. He turned and prowled down the corridor, John behind him, trying to figure if he had the energy for a full shift to his nagual form. Perhaps he could take them as he was...he was damn fast.

He didn't think he could make the full shift, not as long starved and as deeply hungry as he was. It was a matter too of keeping John with him, protecting his power source as they went down the hall and approached two men who had no idea what was coming.

They were taking in a hill dialect, which gave him hope that they were not well trained. Best not to be too cautious then. He made a decisive move, step step, slash and a throat pulsed out rich blood and gurgling noise and then he snarled and lunged at the second.

It was better to just kill quickly, and if there was too much blood, well.

A normal sensitive would have been floored by the brutal death, or they would have had to have been very skilled at shielding. John didn't bat an eyelid, just went straight in there after keys and if anything that aura of power jumped up another few notches.

It was notable, interesting and something for him to tuck away for when he wasn't scanning and looking for the next threat. The man's death had been quick and quiet.

"I've got the keys," John whisphered. "Let's get the others out."

"Right." He edged back to the door, and glanced sideways at John before leading the way into the quiet hallway, back over the body.

John moved with surprising speed, opening the first door signalling for quiet the moment the door was clear. No one chained up and a few he recognised.

"Colonel?"

Fucking hell. He was halfway to a jaguar, and looked feral as fuck, and that area recognized him. "Noise discipline. We're getting out of here."

"Sir," came the reply. "Jacobs can't walk."

"Go, get the others out," John said. "I'll see what I can do to get him mobile."

"Watch out for him," Sebastian directed in a quiet hiss before reaching for the keys.

Whatever, he didn't have time or energy to spare with glamours. He'd have to explain it away. Down the corridor, in the dim light following his senses. John's scent was all over the torture room, stronger even than the cell. It almost made him drool as primal memories of sacrifices twinged at him.

He wanted, wanted so badly, and he was still so hungry, and he was in charge of his hungers except it wasn't going well then. He moved past the torture room, looking for a excuse to kill.

There was something here in this place. Something feeding and enough to prickle his senses alert. It felt oppressive the deeper into the building he got. No more prisoners. Bodies.

Nothing left but the strongest, he supposed, and he kept going rather than turning back which would've, he knew, been smarter. There was that little voice and he damn well ignored it as he started down a sloping path.

"Seb.." That was John's voice hissing behind him. "Wait.." What the hell was he doing there? "There are explosions outside. Now's our chance."

He turned towards John, abandoning the bad idea taking him down that path, and reached for his shoulder. "Go, go toward them now." It felt like a compulsion, the thread pulled tight and then snapping.

"You coming?" John asked. The aura of darkness in this area was cloying and one he didn't recognise but the explosions, he was pretty sure that was Gregson.

"Something's down there." Like a siren song, something was down there and he knew that was bad, moving with John away.

"Prisoners?" John looked like he might turn back but just then the place rocked with a thunderous explosion. and he could hear a familiar voice yelling, "Move out! Move soldier if you want to live get your ass out now. Exit through the big ass hole in the wall!"

"Bloody hell I have missed that noise. No prisoners, John. Nothing..." He hauled at the other man, back the way they'd come, looking for light.

A figure loomed out of the smoke and he saw the glowing tattoo lines before anything else. John just turned, frowning as if he was sensing something. It was hard not to.

"Seb, you fucker where the hell are you? If you're dead, I resurrect your ass and shoot you again!"

"Hey." No need for fanfare, not when he was trying to hurry because what he'd sensed behind them was bad and they needed to move fast. "Clear everyone out and we can do introductions when we're leaving."

"They're clearing," Gregson said, looking as sharp and wiry as ever. He blinked a little narrowing his eyes at John obviously sensing something, but then rather strangely one off his dogtags flared in a warning bloody red light. "Shit, what are we on top of? Demon sign."

"The creature all of this has been for. It was calling me to its lair, let's just go..."

"You go. I need to know what level we're dealing with here," Gregson said. "Glorified soldier demon we can let rot."

"No no-no, we don't have the strength for this one," Sebastian intoned, moving to drag Paul along too if he had to.

Paul seemed to hesitate even as John was already obeying, when the sense of presence billowed at them and the dim light at the far end of the corridor went pitch black. "That's no soldier demon," Paul muttered starting to prepare to cover their escape. "Okay, we're getting the hell out. Go! go!"

He struggled forward, moving as fast as he could and half pulling John with him because he's survived as long as he had by occasionally knowing when to tuck tail and run.

"What the fuck is that? I...think...I..." John gasped, even as he could hear the unmistakable harmonic growl of a big demon. He had met a few in his time and survived a hell of a lot more.

"Just fucking run!" It wasn't until they were all outside that he realized he didn't know what Paul's plan for escape was or how long it might take.

"I've got an extraction point due up a couple of clicks due east," Paul pointed out to the huddled survivors. The light was going but there was a landmark clearly visible. "Listen up..that is your target. Stick together, I may have missed a few in there. Hope you scavenged weapons. Colonel, you're with me, we need to cover the rear."

That creature back there was coming for them and they both knew it. "No weapons, just me -- go go, everyone get moving..."

The rescued prisoners started running all except John. He had a gun and fell in behind him. "Get the hell out of here," Gregson growled. "Move it. Seb, how much energy have you got?"

"Starving." He turned, back to John as he laughed it and watched the mouth of the complex. "Doctor Major Watson here gave me a little juice, healed my broken leg."

"He's got juice to give?" Gregson said as they started to move. Seb could scent the stench of the approaching entity.

"I have no bloody idea what you are talking about but what the fuck is that following us?" John said, panting a little as they tried to run.

"Creature from hell." Ahead of them and getting further away were the rescued survivors, which was heartening. Someone was going to get away from the mess of a place even if they themselves didn't. Shame to die facing off another creature of death. "Demon or shit, whatever those games were for."

"Him?" John's tone changed. "That fucking bastard? I'll shoot the bastard." Seb had hoped John had not experienced the demon but obviously he had been there for sometime and perhaps that thing had been responsible for whatever had happened.

"Yeah, that'll help," Gregson said wryly as an inky black shape pooled out of the building, drawing itself up into something solid.

He growled low in his throat, and stepped backward before steeling himself. "Stand our ground, Paul?" He reached for what little energy he had.

"Yeah," Paul glanced at the thing and hastily cut his hand, using the blood to inscribe some protective symbols on his skin and that of John. "By my Will, I mark thee, no mind shall possess your will, while mine remains..." he paused "And if you make it out off here, you are getting that fucking tattoo, army or not."

There was a roar and the demon coalesced into a seemingly ordinary man, except for the glowing red eyes. "Give me him, and I shall let you go, mageling and your pet."

So John was the target. That made it easier to himself between the incarnate creature and John. "We're not letting you have him. The queen has a claim to him first."

"I am a servant of Ahriman, who are you to stop me?" Two snakes seemed to sprout from the man's back rising up hissing.

"Fuck, I recognise him," Paul muttered. "Ancient Persian...How are you on that?"

Behind him John leveled his gun and fired dead on, a perfect shot that a sharpshooter would be proud of. No reaction, though. Zip. If nothing else, John had injected a little comic fucking relief into the moment but not much else. Sebastian let heat pool in his spine, waiting to lunge.

"He is mine," the demon repeated. "I will not give up my prize. I could devour him for eternity and never tire of his taste. If you wish to die, then so be it. You are no saoshyant to stop me." He whirled and the ground shook and a whirl wind arose.

"Enough grandstanding Azi Dahaka, to this plane I bind thee," Paul incanted, loosing his own power that he had been building in response. "Now! Go Seb!"

He lunged, moved fast, pulling wind and fire and hatred with him as he slashed out at the man's neck, face, chest, those fucking snakes.

His claws sliced through the snake on the right and it was severed -- but almost immediately grew back hydra like, with more heads than before. Dahaka's arm swept around and struck him with supernatural force, even as Paul summoned fire, which the demon deflected with his whirlwind. He laughed at their attempts derisively.

"How the mighty have fallen. I've worn your kind as a pelt Son of the Smoking Mirror."

No point in backing down, and he swallowed a snarl in his throat as he lashed out again, full of fury and rage and a need to hurt, to make the creature suffer for his kind. He became over focused on the prospect of the kill and the fight, fight fight, impact, strike, hit recoil, hit again. The demon was strong, probably bloated on the energies of his soldiers and he had been dangerously weak for a long time. Paul wasn't doing much better..

But giving up wasn't an option, and he had dedication even if he didn't have strength, because it was fight or die and he knew it. He wasn't going to make his people's numbers smaller not if he could help if.

He got tossed back hard at the same time as Paul, who lay groaning even as John who had been trying to find a vulnerable point to shoot at ran over to him.

"Ah, my morsel..." The creature sniffed and snarled. "you have cat stench over you! Whore! I shall crush him!"

"No!" John raised his hands and the fist came down and seemed to chime like a bell on empty air. "Seb, Colonel, come on, I have no goddamn idea what is going on, but what can I do? What do you need to stop him?"

"Energy. Just, let it loose, you're holding it in, I can feel it..." Reflexively, like a breath. He struggled to stand, to open himself up to it.

"How?" John seemed bewildered.

"Sacrifice," Paul wheezed from nearby and Seb noticed John blanched but gritted his teeth, caught Paul's tossed knife and quickly slashed his own arms. Something he had been taught no doubt and that just made him feel sick, but then… It was like a dam had burst.

Opening and overwhelming, like being knocked over by an ocean wave and almost pulled back in under by the current. He soaked it up, sucked it up greedily, quick, quick because he hadn't let his hunger get free of him and there was so much.

He heard Paul laughing almost manically, and the very air around them caught fire and exploded in a tornado of destruction that took control of the whirlwind and then sent it back against the enemy base. The demon roared in shock at the power surging against it.

And he dove in to finish it off with as much power and force as he could manage, pulling the elements, the earth beneath them into the fight.

Sand and rock raised up like a massive clawed paw and then slammed down on demon, crushing it to the ground. He could feel it wriggling as if it was a creature under his own nagual paw. Fire twined around them all and he could hear Paul chanting some dialect exorcism he didn't recognise.

He really needed to read more. Let his brain indulge itself. But that was a concern for later, and he focused on clutching his claws tighter. The only way he was going to let that creature free was if he was taking a bite out of it's skull.

It was a jaguar instinct to bite and pierce the skull with powerful jaws that tore through bone like paper. The demon fought back, but he felt like he really was of the Blood of the Night Sun, Chilam balam, the Smoking mirror, golden jaguar for the first time.

Fully enveloped with power, basking in the way he had not in a long time, no way that made it easy to turn crushing into rending supported by Paul's spell work. There was a wailing sound from Dahakan as Paul administered the final slap down, and the sucking pull of a hell gate opening pull the demon back into the demonic realms in an explosive release. They were all tossed through the air but he barely felt it, even if Paul lay groaning over on the dirt and rubble strewn sand near smouldering scrubby plants, and John looked like a tossed rag doll.

He stood up moving shakily, and glad that he was built for strength and endurance more than speed. John was the weaker of the three of them so he moved over to him first to help him up to see how he was. The air still stung and tasted more like ash.

"Christ on a fucking crutch," Paul groaned making an attempt to move. "That bastard had some power. Shit, so does your new friend? He okay?"

John looked pretty much unconscious, that aching feeling of power around him subsided, and bubbling inside of him.

He hauled John up with care to his feet. "I hope so. Shit, he was the one this was focused on..."

"Yeah, no shit," Paul said. "With that power burst. Can you carry him? I've bust a gut here and we've got to make that transport."

"Yeah, I've got him. You, too, maybe." He hefted him up with ease, cradling him close. They owed the man their lives.

"I can manage," he said pushing himself up to his feet, though there was groaning, and the scent of blood. "Never known a sensitive do that in a battlefield."

"Cut themselves?" He'd been impressed by the man as well, how he just instinctively knew what to do. Even he didn't seem to understand what was going on.

"That and not end up curled up in an empathic ball of paralysing agony," Paul said and headed after those they had released. John seemed to be vaguely moving his legs but they weren't very effective.

So Seb kept carrying him, and wished he'd stop that sad fishlike squirming. "Easy, we're getting there..."

Somehow in all the adrenalin and sex, and the escape he hadn't taken in the other mans physical debilitation because he had still come across as coherent. The other rescuee’s were there, some having used their training to get the group in cover.

Brilliant, because he and Paul probably looked like they'd been fucking off, hardcore. "Helo, Paul, or...?"

"Helo, though we might need more than one transport." He sat down in the cover and found his radio to try and contact the rescuers before they reached them and give an update.

"Sir? Is the doc okay?" asked one of the men. His voice sounded rough.

"Yeah, just a little low on juice. Saved our asses." He eased John to sit with them, and tried to shift his form to something more entirely human.

"Sir, they did some bad shit to him." the corporal said. "And most of us here are uh...normality challenged. I think that was the purpose of this place.”

"We'll make sure he's all right," Seb promised, keeping close to the man. "Came from another facility. You?"

"Same sir. Couple of the People here who've been here longer than most. Everyone knows him. Most of us have had direct healing from him. The Yanks call them Sensitives."

God fucking bless, he loved stupid over eager sergeants who wanted to tell an officer everything he knew all at once. Like seeing him with fangs and ears didn't suggest he was old and dangerous. He stretched his fingers against John's side, as if that would keep the excess energy in the man. "I know. We're going to make sure he's safe and taken care of now. Appropriate talent for a doctor. I'll get your papers all squared away for you with the army as well. Jobs and contacts if you need them." The boss probably had half those boys in his lines, but none of them seemed old or threatening, others but not shifty ancient hiders like he was. "We take care of our own."

"Sir," and the soldier suddenly looked like he was fit to collapse himself. The adrenalin was wearing off, and Paul looked like he was hanging as well as he tried to slap some field dressings on himself.

"Seb, here, stick these on the doc's arms," Paul instructed tossing them over eyeing him slightly.

"Shit, right." Right, and he focused, moved to stick them down with care as he leaned over John. He was possibly the only one of them doing well just then.

"And look after yourself too," Paul instructed. "You're fucking high as a kite and not noticing the state of your body."

John groaned a little as he pressed the cuts on his arms with the dressing but did not come around. "I'm fine." He tilted his head, focused on John for a moment. Drunk on hunger, on being fed, maybe. "What state?"

"More scars for your collection. Get over here, let me put some triage on you," Paul ordered. "Or did you think Dahakan just gave you love taps?"

"I have energy," Sebastian murmured, breathing deeply. Felt so damn good. "I'll heal."

"Yeah, you know normals are going to be here soon right? " Paul exhaled. "Mind you, the enemy has done us one good turn and effectively winnowed through the ranks for specials for us."

His hearing picked up the sound of chopper blades approaching and he started looking for their arrival.

Normals, right, right, and he worked to pull himself together tightly, as human as he could feel, human and solid and grounded, that was what he needed to be. Holding onto John still.

He couldn't seem to let go of him. He had, even in his own semi-delerium given to him, sacrificed to him willingly and for him, that stirred all his ancient drives and instincts.

"He's different," Paul murmured just for his ears. "I'm not sure what he is. The boss might know. The boss will want to know."

"The boss will need to protect this one," Seb agreed quietly. "I have a few ideas what he is."
Nothing clean, nothing easy, no quick good or bad lines and that was what the Boss worked in.

The helo's were in sight and Paul exhaled and stood, efficiently calling out for those mobile to get their fellow rescuee’s together.

"We'll talk about this later," he muttered as an aside and then it was the rush and noise of a rescue in progress.

Later wouldn't be soon enough.

---

John was looking a complete failure of his planned future. He'd woken up in a hospital with only faint recollections of how he got there aside from some frankly drug induced visions, and everything ached, hurt or made him feel sick which he knew was pretty normal for someone coming out of such an ordeal. He wanted to know how the others were and who had been pulled out of that hole. Or even if the man he remembered as Sebastian Moran existed because frankly the whole recent past memories he could pick up were blatantly delusional and he was torn between asking people what was correct and keeping his obvious psychotic break quiet. Besides, he was lucky to get a drink of water with how busy they were after the mass release of prisoners.

There were just basic needs to be met and he had a feeling that all of them were emotionally broken, shattered as he felt when he tried to touch the pieces. It was very likely that John had hallucinated the man on those last couple of hours.

Especially the way he had a broken leg, then didn't, and then the fur, and cats eyes, and that whole intensely erotic encounter which was … yeah. He was never going to pass a psych eval now. Especially as he had two fresh slashes on his wrists that made him look like a suicide risk. He was frankly surprised he wasn't in medical restraints from the wariness with which they were treating him.

Then again, he was non-combative, and he'd heard a kerfuffle in the hallway about someone up on the roof. And Christ knew which one of the rescued soldiers that had been. They’d all suffered torture and abuse in the extreme, dying around him as he struggled to do something, anything...

Yeah, he didn’t want to go there.

He pushed himself up, to see what was going on. His leg was killing him for some reason so he was wary of standing and didn't even get that far before someone came in the room.

"Shhhh!" The man pulled the door shut behind him, and stood still for a moment, holding silent before he turned to look at John. And there was his bloody, actually bloody, hallucination in the flesh ironically enough.

"Seb?...Uh Colonel Moran?" He knew he was half gaping like a fool but it seemed strange to see someone he had written off as hallucination there in front of him. Unaccountably he could feel a flush of embarassment as he remembered the strangely frantic rough sex.

"Doctor. Good to see you. Wanted to talk to you in private if you're amenable." He wiped at his mouth with the back of his wrist in almost polite motion that left a red streak on his skin.

"Uh, this is about as private as it gets at the moment unless you help me out somewhere. Leg screwed up for some reason," John replied awkwardly.

"Good point. What's wrong with your legs?" He seemed a bit wild, but focused intensively on John.

"Not sure. They say it could be an old injury, or something psychosomatic. All I know is it hurts," John said. "How are you? Were you badly injured?" He had seen the blood, even if it was a smear.

"Yes and no. I can't feel a thing, and I should be unconscious. The doctors are a little baffled. I'm not surprised. I'm not human, I don't quite work like you do." Col. Moran perched on the edge of John's bed. And there it was - the indicator he was out of his fucking mind.

"Oh shit, I'm still hallucinating aren't I? I knew it." John groaned and sat back. "They are going to lock me away in a psych ward and leave me there."

"I hadn't really considered how bad that would sound." The hallucination that was masquerading as a colonel patted his leg. "There are more psychics and supernatural creatures in the world than anyone cares to admit. Many of us feel drawn to military service because it reminds us of our old days, leading Warriors into battle."

"You are seriously telling me about psychics and supernatural creatures, and saying there are lots of them?" John asked a bit incredulous, trying to ignore the part of him saying wasn't it better for that to be real than him be crazy and locked in a psych ward?

"Yes. And I'm telling you this because you know the things you've seen. Because you are one of us." The man said it slowly and with a hard conviction.

"How the hell can I be ‘one of us’? I don't know what you are talking about. I'm a doctor, a military doctor, that's what I do, I don't go for psychic or...any of that." He said it knowing it was a lie and his uncertainty must have shown.

"There are people we call sensitives. Who are open to the energies of the world. Healers. Mind readers, Seers. There are so many manifestations and usually they are generated from the self... But you interact with the world's energies. You interact with pain, a negative energy which a lot of people do, but they don’t process it, transform it into something else. I knew a priestess once, who tried to teach herself how to process pain - it went badly wrong. You're a natural." He cut John a sharp look, and added, “ And don't think I'm judging you. I was raised, glutted on human sacrifice."

"You're saying I..." John hesitated. "How can I be some sort of healer and have pain as a power source?" He winced a little, hearing Harry’s bitter words in his head ' You're a fucking masochist big brother, adrenalin junkie just as much as I'm a junkie for alcohol."

"It's logical, isn't it?" The man tipped his head down a little, smiling. "Where else does a man find so much pain without feeling guilty about being around it? Don’t you feel your most alive when you are saving someone’s life - taking someones pain in that instance would be a win, win for everyone."

"That just sounds... sick," John said, a bit disturbed at the premise, but flashes of information of a dark figure, and hissing, murmuring instructions and blinding pain, his own, and others made his own was there in his mind. It fit the shattered recollections he had somehow.

"It sounds pragmatic. You turned the energy from the pain into healing." The colonel, Seb, was watching him intently, and he remembered the cat gleam in the man's eyes, how he'd clawed throats out.

"Okay, say I believe you.." John said slowly. He couldn't really believe him could he? "Say I do, is this what sensitives do?"

"Not usually. Most of them die when exposed to excessive pain - they feel it but they can’t channel it, or transform it. They are driven to try and heal it using internal energy - too much and they die. The best of them work out how to block or shield pain as they heal it. You're more of a... Special case. I work with a man who has an interest in special cases."

"So I'm either off my head and will be locked away or I'm a special case and I'll be locked away?" John said. Dammit.

"No. Do I look like I'm locked away?" But it was possible that the man was bait of a sort.

"Look Colonel, this is all a moot point isn't it? I'm out of the army. I'm damaged goods no matter the cause," he said. "Not the sort of thing anyone wants to take on."

"John." The man shifted again, holding his eyes; his gaze was level, unblinking, and blue eyes transitioned to round yellow irises. "You heal people. You're a real healer and who knows what else?. You're out of the army, and you're going to get to see things you never fucking imagined. You're only damaged goods in your own head." And he was imagining that the man smelled of blood as he leaned in closer. Maybe.

John just stared at him. "Is that...a pigeon feather?" he asked, distracted by it on Seb's shoulder.

Seb turned his head, and gave a quiet chuckle as he brushed it off his shoulder. "... I was hungry. Haven't had energy like this in decades, gets a little hard to not roll over into it after so long without."

"You… ate a pigeon?" John felt he had to repeat, trying to ignore the vision creeping into his head of Seb roaming around with a dead pigeon in his mouth like a guilty housecat.

"Yes." He coughed, and rubbed fingers at the edge of his mouth like he was subconscious. "I would've preferred something with fewer bones, but I'm not picky. Small deer. Goat. Goat would be lovely."

"I guess you don't mean done like the villages used to do or us," John shook his head. "Okay, what are you then? Maybe if you tell me enough things might make sense."

"I've been called a nahual, but that's not quite right. I've never been human, not inside. Not like you." Or that the man remembered. "I came from the deep jungle, and served with other gods as humans made merry for us, and we returned the favour with strength in war." His eyes slid back to blue. "And then they died. They stopped believing, and we became nothing, shadows. The keener of us repurposed ourselves, but we dwindle year on year, dying. It's traumatic. We were never supposed to die."

John looked at the man telling him that and frowned. He was seeing the shift, visually, and he had to choose between denying sanity and accepting this. "You're related to gods?" he asked finally. What the hell was a nahual?

"I'm a jaguar person." Not human, that was a careful word choice. "And I live on blood and sacrifice, which strangely is decently served by her majesty's finest. It's enough, since hardly no one believes anymore. And you... Sacrificed when asked."

"I did?" John glanced at his bandaged arms. He had a vague recollection of that of someone asking him to and mechanically he had know what to do, as if it had been required of him over and over in the past. "And that had an effect?"

"You poured power to me and we managed to banish the demon back to hell. Me and Paul, Tobias Paul Gregson, but he goes by Paul because he's a git as well as a battle Mage," Seb said, just watching him for any reaction.

John sighed. "I'm struggling with this, all of it. I don't know if what I remember is true or not. I remember you with a broken leg, then you were sprinting around like nothing had happened and we... did we -- in the cell...?"

"We did. That's another way to pass energy, and I took a little from you. Enough that Paul found us because he could ‘see’ me again in a magical sense. Like a magical homing beacon on my signature." And he had his hand on John's leg, casual, almost proprietary.

"Okay, that was weird," John replied pinching the bridge of his nose. "What does all of this mean anyway? I'm out of the Army now. I'll never pass another psych eval in my life.

"So? Think of magic as an alternative, civilian economy. We can provide you enough pain and danger to keep you happy."

"I don't know if I can do that," John said. "I just want to be normal. Get my feet under me. You know, that sort of thing." It wasn't the best time to hit him with a paradigm shifting proposal and this was freaking him the hell out.

"Then get your feet under the new you as well. Take it slow." He was still watching John intently. "But I'm going to help you do it."

That was a bit of a change. John was used to having to deal with his shit alone because Harry was usually too much of a wreck and he didn't have any other living family he really knew. He knew he should just man up and say it wasn't necessary, but he found himself saying. "Okay, thanks...I appreciate that."

"You saved my life. Paul's life. Everyone in there who was rescued is because of you. Don't thank me for what you did." It was odd to have that turned back in him, because he didn't expect it.

He felt a little bit uncomfortable with that even as he picked up someone else standing at the door.

"Seb, stop purring over the doctor and get your ass out here. The Boss wants us." Paul, his memory supplied, giving him images of something like a movie with million dollar special effects, battling some creature or something. Impossible.

"There is life after normalcy." He shifted to his feet, a smooth roll of motion, as he turned to Paul. "Plan in place yet?"

"Working on it. Good to see you looking more recovered Major Watson," Paul said politely and John caught a glimpse of tattoos on his arms, strange ones that made his head ache a little. "I'm probably have to take Seb away from you for a bit, but we'll drop in on you when you get settled in England. They want to make sure you are physically well recovered."

"Just don't talk much about what happened," Seb encouraged, still watching John like a hawk. Or, maybe like a pigeon.

"Yeah, I think I've worked that one out," John said. "Uh, thank you for the rescue though."

Paul looked a little surprised by the thanks but nodded an acknowledgement.

"We'll see you back home in England." The colonel let himself be hauled out the door, by the surprised looking tattooed man.

This was easily the most surreal thing he had ever experienced. But given a choice between being sectioned for insanity and going along with the whole thing, John decided it was probably in his best interest to play along. To start with, at least.

Chapter 2

Summary:

"Fighting demons and things deemed dangerous to England? Yes. You could, too."

However crazy it sounded, it was better than the prospect of perpetual GP or doctor locum work. That was pretty much all he would be fit for with his leg like this, unable to get a permanent appointment because of his health and background. He did have the queen and country thing somewhere in him, or he wouldn't have become an active field based doctor. "Okay, but what can I do? Heal people in a combat situation? I've done that all of… once?"

"Good enough," Seb smiled, cutting a piece of his steak up. "You're a soldier. Aren't you?"

It was a relief to be back in London, but he was exhausted and half feral and struggling to keep himself together in a way he hadn't had to since... He didn't remember. A hundred years, and there he was in a clean suit and shiny shoes, reaching forward to take a delicate teacup from a tray. A monster in good clothes.

"Do you wish me to send out for some refreshment?" Mycroft Holmes said. "A biscuit, a cake or a pigeon perhaps?"

He heard Paul snort beside him, even as he looked the epitome of suave and capable all dressed up out of deference to their Boss’s sensibilities. "So apparently that story got here ahead of me." Sebastian swallowed the urge to grimace, because Holmes had a way of making him feel like an untamed beast.

"Indeed." Mycroft said. "As did the tales of your heroic rescue. Now, I am given to understand that you had encounters of the supernatural kind that you need to bring to my attention?"

A debrief with tea and the trappings of humanity. Sebastian exhaled, and leaned back in his seat, trying to focus on anything but the thrumming of his blood. "Should I start with the capture and the missing months, or…?"

"I would be interested in how someone managed to circumvent your normally alert defensive," Homes replied. "Colonel Gregson was… perplexed considering how difficult it is to catch you unawares."

"Well, 9 times out of ten he gets me if I spring something on him having a cat nap," Paul acknowledged.

"I was very low on energy." He said it carefully, kept it circumspect because it was laden with complications and inferences that left him uncomfortable. "And I was in a convoy going to a stupid dog and pony show when we were ambushed. Don't know if they targeted me, or one of the otherkind in the unit, but they had a paralytic gas that... Did the trick. Knocked out everyone regardless of type."

"I see. Were they interested solely in otherkin, or prisoners in general?" Mycroft queried, steepling his fingers.

"The interest was in us. The normals died quickly, or, well, slowly, but they were there to suffer for whatever experiments they were running, or knowing what we do now, feeding demons. And then they started to whittle us down, systematically. The focus at the facility I was in was the sensitives."

"Ah yes, the sensitives. Explain your observations Sebastian," he said and focused his intent dark gaze on him.

"They were trying to drown them with pain and suffering. Tying them up in a chair in the middle of a room full of people being tortured, and seeing what they did, trying to force healing or other expressions of energy. Healing without touching I thought at first. There were some who managed a fraction of that but... They died, of course, and we died, and..." He paused, took a sip of tea. Tasted the tannins and let it linger in his mouth, breathing it, scenting the earthy familiarity. He was home and it was good, even if home was a cold hellhole of an island. "They were consolidating the strongest survivors to the final location, where Paul found us."

"And the purpose of this torture?" Just like Holmes. Cold, disinterested in the effects of the torture and more on its purpose.

"We think it was an experiment to try and force a … self replenishing food source for a demon," Paul answered. That was the only thing they had come up with. A sensitive that gave out nourishment energies for demons when caused pain would generate more, become stronger when fed on rather than die. Cultivated, they would be an invaluable power source.

"One of which sprang up with Major Doctor John Watson," Sebastian supplied. "He drinks pain in, converts it and holds it, releases it as different types - healing, energy food. Never seen a sensitive do that before."

"Ah." Mycroft Holmes seemed intrigued. "He learned how to transform pain energy? What was his output?"

The more he thought about it, the more he realised Watson had no doubt been stress-trained to a high level, expanding a natural capacity massively. He was willing to bet in his sessions, he been healing those tortured around him and they’d been adding more and more and more. Maybe that was the purpose of their transport. His broken leg would have been another test, another method of keeping the training going at all times. He probably had injured tossed in with him all the time.

Paul glanced across at Seb and said. "The two of us kicked Azi Dahakan back to hell after a jolt from him. Seb seemed to have delusions of invulnerability for a short time."

"Still do," he offered after a moment's quiet. "And I don't think it was a transformation. Have a feeling the guy was always like this, or had the potential to be like this and needed a kickstart."

"A heyoka sensitive..they are very rare indeed, barely a few mentioned in the histories," Mycroft replied. "I am surprised… I have no indications of this in Major Watson's lineage."

It was practically a red letter day, Mycroft Holmes admitting to surprise. "He thinks he has gone crazy sir," Paul chipped in. "Strange things are happening around him, and he is making the assumption it is trauma related psychosis."

"Which I tried to disavow him of." To the best of his capacity, but the pigeon and he'd possibly been too excited, and the doctor still thinking he was in the aftermath of some form of post traumatic stress breakdown.

"Mmm. Did he respond to you in any way, Sebastian?" Mycroft queried thoughtfully.

"He seemed to. He healed my leg in the cell and I tried to explain what was going on to him." Too much, too soon but he wasn't going to let it go at all. "I want to pursue it."

"The Lore says that a heyoka sensitive needs a stressful environment in the same way that a normal sensitive needs calm and serenity." Mycroft mused. "Unfortunately, your role does take you away often enough that we cannot set a base with either of you. "

"He did respond to Seb sexually sir," Paul countered. "Perhaps that could be an avenue?"

"Indeed. I believe I can find him a placement that will provide the stress he requires. As I understand it, without it his abilities will turn on themselves causing illness and physical symptoms. However, we need to get his abilities controlled and readily accessible."

"And it'll keep him safe." Seb felt compelled to offer that, when he was sitting with two of the most amoral men he knew, and it left him feeling oddly embarrassed.

"Your heritage Sebastian, and longevity, means you have experience with a variety of sexual practices yes?" Mycroft said. "You need to indoctrinate Major Watson into a lifestyle where his abilities are honed and charged. If we ever need him for a full defensive or offensive ritual, he will have to be able to endure what is required of him."

"Brush off that sex club membership Seb," Paul smirked at him.

"You think I'm sharing him?" Sebastian drawled. "But if he's up to it, I'd, I'll make sure he's very well taken care of and at the ready." Longevity he supposed was a way to say he was an old pervert. A very talented one.

"Then it is arranged. I will..allow him to find a permanent base with my sibling Sherlock. There should be enough stress and low grade masochism there to prevent him from withdrawal and Sebastian can cultivate him. Paul, we will need to discuss and investigate the bigger picture."

Which Sebastian was shit at, he had to admit, more focused in operational planning and waiting and making things happen than that supposed big picture stuff. "I'll see if I can find him when he gets back then."

"Please try and use a degree of subtlety, otherwise our new resource will break in the manner he suspects he already has," Mycroft said. "And try not to antagonise Sherlock too much. He has a tendency to start spreading his irritation around."

"Is the Doc really going to be safe with Sherlock?" Paul asked.

"I do hope not," Mycroft said affronted. "That is the purpose of this meeting."

Sebastian inclined his head as it started to sink in a little. "He needs danger. Sherlock is... Lively in that way. A constant source of it."

"Yeah, but Sherlock is not exactly the most stable of individuals," Paul said. "I've fished him out of trouble often enough for you."

"He is very young," Mycroft said. "And has mothers intelligence, as well. It makes our lives a constant source of boredom when secrets unravel easily. I suspect however, John Watson will distract him as much as anything else."

"That's kind of safety net for someone who feeds on pain and darker energies." Just thinking of feeding and food made him feel hungry, and he sipped the tea, taking a careful slow swallow. The urge to go into cat form and stay there for a decade or two was intense.

"Give the doctor chance to regain his equilibrium. I think I'll have his family line investigated. It is possible his sibling might have Sensitive traits as well," Mycroft said. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss?"

With Holmes? Not a chance in hell, and he shook his head. He was a God of death and war and the man was a cold bastard by his own standards. "I think Paul and I have it."

"Ensure you are both recovered. Sebastian, you should consider seeing one of my staff sensitives for counselling if you are feeling unsettled after your experiences," Mycroft gave a cold thin smile. "I always say, Troy would never have fallen if the gods had had therapy."

It was probably his version of lighthearted banter.

It was instead incredibly awkward and left Sebastian feeling grim as he finished his tea. "How's that work? Troy not falling?"

"Homer was right about the fact that the gods essentially had a petty argument and dragged family members into it. A truce could have been brokered without their interference. Or the Trojan Horse never conceived of." Mycrofft said.

"And they're all mostly dead now." He exhaled, and glanced over at Paul. "Anything else?"

"No. We've got some leave, so let's… leave," Paul suggested giving him a look that he knew meant Paul was worried about him. He was never sure why. He seldom understood why anyone did anything, let alone worry about him, so he stood and moved to let himself out, expecting that Paul would follow.

He did, staying close enough that he could smell his distinct scent. "Come on, we've got an appointment," Paul said practically in his ear.

"Do we?" He turned his head a little, scowling and finding Paul millimeters away from him.

"Yeah. A tattoo remember?" Paul said. "Either we go downtown or I do it. Take your pick."

"Who'll do a better job, you or downtown?" He didn't mind, it was an excuse to stay in good company rather than going off on his own.

"Me." Paul answered. "I've got the ritual ink and I've had a shit load of practice. Besides, you'll probably end up getting drunk and we know what you're like then."

"Sloppy and over friendly?" Sebastian grinned, feeling it a little better at that suggestion, as they walked. "You, then."

"Come on, I've rented a flat. Nicely warded up for sound and intruders, got the cheap alcohol you seem to like in," Paul encouraged. "Bloody heathen that you are. Steak for later. Need to build you back up."

"How come I survived so bloody long and didn't need protective tattoos. I start hanging in with you a lot and suddenly everything evil that I didn't know existed comes at me. I could be in a jungle right now eating monkeys. Instead, you're going to feed me ginger beer until I puke." He grinned and bumped Paul with the shoulder.

"Hey, we all get our kicks somehow." he replied. "You are not invulnerable Seb, and I'm not always going to have the power to stop a big nasty trying to use you."

"No, you won't." But he hadn't had that trouble long ago. Sometimes he wondered if he was more of a liability than an asset. "Tattoos it is."

Paul's flat was across town and it wasn't too long in a taxi. The pair of them looked more like business men than wizards, dressed up in their suits, but that soon changed when they got into the place. Paul tended to ward the place a little like a fortress no matter where he was so it was surprisingly calm inside, and Paul had tossed his jacket onto a chair and pulled loose his tie as soon as they were in. "Beer, or straight to the hard stuff?"

"Beer to start, then the hard stuff." He liked how a good beer or even a bad beer tasted, even as it took him a little longer to settle in and shuck off his jacket. "Thanks."

He was tossed one from the fridge and Paul moved around fetching some supplies,and getting his own beer. "As I'm the one doing it, I'm going to do the whole ritual oil anointing and all that."

"Ah? That's been a while." He lingered by Paul's sofa, sifting through memories of hot braziers and firelight on stone inside a temple, heat and charcoal in the air and oil in his skin when he was human. Human enough, come down from the clouds to be among them. "Sorry, I'm really struggling today."

"Yeah. You're touch starved aren't you?” Paul commented. "Seen you like it before. Did you say one of your aspects was a sex god? Or is it just the cat in you need in it?"

"I was a sex god." He said it with a straight face, and then blurted out a chuckle, "Shit that's awful. I just feel like I'm still starving to death. I can't explain it, everything's hollow."

"You know what you remind me of?" Paul said as he sat down for a moment. "Me when I was a teenager. Starving all the time, sleepy or doing crazy shit and horny for everything that moved."

"I'm older that your Christ," Seb pointed out with a low growl in his voice. "Bit late for that shit, isn't it?"

"Hey, maybe you get demi-god related puberty late," Paul suggested with a faint smile and a shrug. "What are you hungry for? Maybe I can...help you out."

"I don't know." He sat down beside Paul and sighed. "And now I sound like a petulant git. I'm about to rip up one of your fancy pillows."

"You can if you want. Blow off some steam," Paul said. "You want food first or is the hunger all... other stuff."

“Other stuff." Sebastian admitted it petulantly, sheepishly, because when posed like that he did know what he wanted.

"Mmm, well I might not be the three course dinner Watson is, but I could probably fill a hole..." Paul smirked a little. "If you know what I mean."

"... Has that line ever worked?" Seb half laughed, a startled bark of noise. "I might as well say I'd like my belly scratched."

"You probably do," Paul answered. "It's not like we haven't shagged before Seb, though usually we're drunker. Tell you what, I'll make the tattooing good. I can do it with some ritual ink. Heard of a guy who got his done by a trickster once, magicked into flesh, so I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"Does being a trickster imply a complete inability to tattoo? I'm not really sure I'm following." Half the time he found himself in a conversation, sure that he was missing some integral part of it.

"Their concentration is notoriously fickle," Paul said. "Raw power and interested in anything and everything. I can at least hold my concentration." He smirked a little more. "You really do want your belly scratched don't you?"

He shifted in closer to Paul, and twisted toward him on the sofa. "Bugger, yeah, I do. I've wanted to roll over to cat form and just stay there since I got enough energy back to do it."

"Well we can't have you devouring the doc whole, so I'll consider this public service," Paul said. "If you pull out the sofa it makes a pretty good futon."

"Is that a hint? Shall I strip naked as well?" Sebastian pulled back, eyeing Paul

"Mmm, I think that might be a good idea," Paul answered palming a small bottle. "I have oil."

"Oh." Seb sighed, and started to unbutton his shirt. "I miss the old days."

"Which old days?" Paul said pulling on his own shirt and revealing his own tattooed torso.

"When I was still a god." He leaned in, drawn to familiar bare skin as he touched fingers to bare stomach.

"Tell me about it. Did our dark sensitive waken some memories?" Paul said getting oil to warm on his hands and leaning into the touch.

"Too many to count. I never wanted to be one of those old bastards, the ones who couldn't get past that time had moved on and everything changed. But I feel like I'm grieving. I thought I'd already done that once." He shifted his fingers down to Paul's belt. "Fresh blood and oil and priests and priestesses fucking for my enjoyment, for days before a battle."

"Not sure I can manage days, Seb," Paul murmured finally pressing his warm slick fingers to his skin. "Lie back. I want you relaxed first."

"Orgies in my honor, Paul. And to die to feed me? People fought for it. That part of me has lived on little scraps of sacrifice for centuries..." He let himself be goaded with warm fingers and warm oil on the skin.

"The part of you that is the Smoking Mirror. You're more than that now." He was surprisingly skilled at touch and massage, digging into tension, and crackling knots he had acquired.

"Am I? I'm a lackey to a half vampire, A mercenary against our kind. We've killed things that are probably less sinful and harmful to the world than I was." He needed to stop talking and stop thinking and just feel Paul's hands.

"Was being the operative word. That was civilization then, but you've done what a lot of the demi-gods could not, which is to adapt and survive. " Paul murmured. "And here you are, incarnate, still gorgeous and on the right side. That's pretty good going."

"I'm being a shit," Seb acknowledged, closing his eyes and stretching out more. "I know that. I just feel it very intensely right now."

"Well, concentrate on feeling my hands on you," Paul murmured kneading at his skin more thoroughly.

"Uhn." Seb closed his eyes and stretched his shoulders slowly. "That is amazing."

"I am able to heat my hands at will," Paul replied smoothing his chest and massaging deep muscle tissue. "Your shoulder is a mess."

"Everything is a mess. They realized I could heal and started taking me apart until I stopped healing." He had not known that it was possible for him to stop healing; a broken leg had been the last straw.

"Even demi-gods have limits," Paul said softly glancing to meet his eyes. "Just because you heal doesn't mean it wasn't torture and that you're not going to have after effects."

"Feels like it. I'm fine." He exhaled slowly, held and met Paul's eyes. It took effort.

"No. You're not," Paul said. "I know you are 'fine' but you don't get over things that easily."

"No? You say that like it's not an option." Or that it was Sebastian who didn't get over things. Maybe that was why he felt itchy in his own skin.

"Look, I'm pretty experienced in repressing this shit," Paul kept up the massage. "Fuck, but it screws with the energies."

"You can feel my repression?" Seb drawled, feeling a little amused.

"Hell yeah, you're fighting yourself inside. I'm no sensitive but I can pick up something hinky with your normal abilities. " Paul started moving down his legs. "I know I said it as a joke but maybe there is something to the godly puberty theory. "

"You have to be joking," he groaned, turning his head to mush his face against the pillows. "I'm older than your language."

"Mmm, so you say, but maturity is relative. I mean, the early stage of worship is a bit like a kid after sweeties," Paul suggested even as he made it down the legs. "Roll over, I want a crack at your back."

 

"And what's the later, older stages? Benevolently and benignly neglecting a planet while wearing the mantle of creator?" Sebastian turned over slowly, stretching his toes, his calves.

"Well, caring passionately and obsessively is a teenage thing isn't it? And adults tend to let things unravel in their own way." Paul said instantly unerringly digging into cramping muscles.

"Bullshit," Sebastian muttered, folding his arms under his chest. "How many humans have I met who can't regulate themselves like that? Adult, old humans."

"You should ask an Oracle. If you can find one that's not cracked out on drugs," Paul said. "I'm just making this shit up."

"I appreciate your attempt at therapy," Sebastian muttered, squirming a little. "I feel like I'm dying."

"You're not." But he could be making that up too. "You're one of mine, and I don't let team die."

"How old are you again?" Sebastian lazily asked.

"I do have mage blood, but fine...you're the old one. But I'm the mature one. " Paul answered moving to his back. "Well, if you discount that whole thing we did in Sierra Leone."

"That was brilliant," Sebastian muttered, smiling to himself as he enjoyed the touch, lingering and warm. "I'm a jaguar. You should all be delighted I'm wearing shoes and peeing in porcelain cups."

"You're a shapeshifter, and of the bloodline of the Smoking Mirror. I guess you're a ‘were-jaguar’ to most," Paul said. "Where do you want this tattoo? I'll do it then I promise we can...have a bit of a snack jaguar style."

"Were-jaguar implies I started as a human," Sebastian pointed out, looking over his shoulder. "Between the shoulder blades, I suppose."

"Hold on then… it might burn a bit," he replied and smoothed in the anointed oil carefully. "Biomorphic then if you want to get technical." He could hear the low buzz of harmonics as Paul began a whispering chant and power started to build up.

"I like the technical." He liked the thought, felt familiar with it, and held still while Paul started to just throw the tattoo at him.

It was like a fiery snake burrowing and twisting under his skin. He tried to force himself to remain silent because Paul was fixing it to an image in his head and a distraction could blow it. But the power crackling on his skin made him shiver.

Felt good, felt good and curled right to his balls, wrapped around the skin between his shoulders and left him speechless.

Paul gave a particular hissing sibilant of the incantation and the feeling of a storm passed, leaving an echo of the pain of a tattoo between his shoulder blades. "Done," came the murmur. "Now, we can make sure you are taken care off."

"Oh. Fuck that feels good," he sighed, stretched his toes again because he could. "Like a rush."

"What do you want me to do Seb," Paul asked straddling over him, and working still over his skin. "Is it the power you like? Like this?" He let something that felt like a crackling electricity surround his hands and touch him.

He twisted with care, stupidly half afraid he might smudge the ink, but that wasn't possible as he reached for the other man. "I don't know where I want to start."

"It's not like you to be indecisive," Paul said. "I'm pretty sure you'll get a few ideas if we just go in making it up as we go along." With that, he leaned in to kiss him, and it was a familiar taste, and warmth, something nourishing and satisfying at the same time.

"Oh, yes, fuck yes. I want power, I miss power, I want..." He was hungry and his shoulders hurt and he wanted Paul, but the hands on his shoulders kept him from moving.

"Well then, come and get it off of me," Paul challenged with a faint laugh in his voice as he lifted his hands. "If you can..."

"You bugger..." Sebastian twisted slightly, looking over his shoulder at Paul. The space between the eighth and the hunger was slowly turning into a better interest.

"You want this, you've gotta work for it," Paul murmured with a devilish smile. He gave a deliberate zap of power to the newly tattooed skin.

“Uhn. What do I get if I try harder?” He pushed himself up on one elbow,and tried to push his ass up.

Hands smoothed over his ass. "That depends on what you want," Paul said with a smirk in his tone. "Do you want me in your ass? Do you want to fuck mine?"

Oh. He pushed his hand back. "Fuck me. Not many people are capable..."

"It will be a pleasure," Paul murmured in his ear, and then there were teeth pressing into the skin on his shoulder near the nape of his neck.

He ducked his head down, and exhaled in a pant of breath as he rolled his shoulders up to that touch. "Uhnf, yes, yes, I want more of that..."

"That's because you're a fucking cat and that's considered foreplay," Paul said against his skin. "I'm not sure I dare do this on your stomach, you'll gut me." He started nipping in earnest then, pushing against his skin with his own teeth, the thrum of his power and life force crawling from skin to skin.

“I promise to not kick you if you tickle my stomach,” Seb half purred, half promised, loving the feeling of naked contact. He'd wanted that and more with the good doctor, but the circumstances had been fucking awful.

"Then we might get to it after all," Paul answered in a breath as he moved lean muscles against him. Seb could feel the heat of him, his cock erect already. Nails scratched slowly over his skin, hard enough to flush a raise welt but not to break skin.

He liked the way Paul felt, the drop of his hips against Seb's ass, the way his cock slid up the line of his arse. "I almost don't even mind that you inked my skin if you keep doing this."

"Mmm. Well, don't get yourself killed, " Paul said, "Or my hard work will be for nothing." There was a shift and a sensation of movement as Paul essentially rolled him so he was on his back and he could look into his eyes. The connection strengthened naturally, and he could feel that flow of energy draw them close.

He was just squirming with want and it made it hard to focus on just one thing. He wanted everything, and Paul knew how to give. There was a genuine desire there that fed him energy.

He slid his hands down, looking for the zipper for Paul's pants.

"Coming back to you huh?" he murmured against Seb's mouth and continued kissing him. Paul, he hadn't had Paul for some time. He must have been worried about him because Paul knew it was never as simple as just sex with one of his kind.

"Mm, slowly." And except for John down in the cell, he hadn't had a pleasant touch in a long long time. He turned his head, kissed the side of Paul's jaw as he got his pants open.

Paul tended to be quite forthright in what he wanted, pulling at his clothes as well. He showed practiced skill in getting him undressed with maximum efficiency and minimum time and then he was there, moving hands all over him. "C'mon sex god."

"We have time..." And he wanted to devour the feeling of skin against his own as it felt good, fingers and palms lingering on Paul as he kissed his neck.

"Yeah, and you have a funky new tattoo," he murmured and kissed the tender spot on his skin.

"I wasn't possessed," Seb half protested, squirming from the good feeling that flowed out from there.

"Mmm, told you, better safe than sorry," he murmured. "You were low powered, until you got juiced up."

Sapped, starving, The process took a very long time, a God giving into starvation, but he had seen it happen before, and Watson had stirred up old memories. "It wasn't that bad." Seb slid both hands to the small of Paul's back, and pressed close.

"Bad enough that I thought I'd lost you," Paul murmured. He pushed against him, reveling in friction.

"You're just spoiled, always being able to know where I am. " It was gently teasing but now that he was holding him could tell that his partner in crime really had been concerned.

They were one of Mycroft's best teams. Two men, enough firepower and experience to kick ass. "Mmm. Gonna put a bell on you at this rate."

"You're a poor excuse for a battle Mage if you haven't already figured out how to bell a person." Slid his fingers down to cup paul's balls.

"I like it personal," Paul groaned a little and bit at his neck, mouthing and then using teeth as he stroked him.

"I think I can ring these," Sebastian murmured, tilting his head back and oh, fuck, that felt good, that went right down the inside of his thigh.

Paul seemed intent on getting him riled up, he nipped and sucked and stroked him, goading him into a response he couldn't help even if he wanted to.

And he wanted it. He wanted it, shifting and rolling Paul over so he was on his back on the sofa and they were comfortable enough that he was going to have his way with Paul. Even if he didn't know quite what he wanted to do yet.

Paul was not directing it as he usually did, probably out of deference to his need to feed. Probably wasn't sure what he was in the mood for. The problem was, there was still the lingering memory of that satiating rush from John Watson.

Memories and memories, like the old times, that had been like the old times, and he needed to focus on what was present now, on pushing Paul down and making him feel, in riling up enough sensation to have waves if it wash over him in little laps, to make Paul give up need and want to him.

They soon disappeared into the haze of movement, friction, thrust, twining limbs and slick skin sliding over each other. Paul's mage energy would leak in tingles and crackling bursts of almost electric charge that earthed as they touched, or a surge of heat that would shimmer between them.

He soaked it up, finally starting to relax and pry at Paul's legs, because they were both hard and they were starting to ache, a delicious feeling Seb wanted to give in to. Maybe Paul would be amenable to not coming so he could get fucked as well. He wanted to bury himself in the feeling, but greed wanted him to experience it too.

He knew his way around, but it never turned into always one way rather than another for him because each partner was different, something turned them on and they reacted in a way that went straight to his balls, to that hunger inside of him and stroked it.

Paul, now Paul was an interesting one. He liked people who were open to variety. He would top as easy as bottom, use his mouth with skill and make delightful groaning noises as he was doing now. Time to step it up a bit.

Bring him close to the edge but not let him go over, because he was feeling greedy, he wanted everything. Sebastian reached between them, and wrapped his fingers tight around the base of Paul's cock.

"Fuck Seb!" Paul was trying to squirm for release beneath him, but he wasn't going to get it, not just yet. Not until he returned the favour. It because then something more primal as Paul's wriggling set off other instincts.

He leaned in, kissed him deeply, and kept his hand in place like a cockring has he thrust harder, trying to drive Paul past the edge. It seemed to work, Paul was pushed beyond his feelings into incoherence and that was what he was waiting for.

He felt a surge of energy then, the moment Paul truly gave up, gave in, and he sucked on it fiercely, grasping to not lose any as he continued to strain Paul past his limits.
He could sense the time that he was going to explode and stopped moving, drawing a desperate noise from Paul. He pulled out, knowing it would drive the other man crazy, which was what he wanted.

He wanted him to turn the tables, to take what he wanted rather than just give and give and give, because while all the giving was appealing, there was more to be said for *being given*, for being taken, and Sebastian leaned in to kiss Paul, hoping frustration overran him.

He didn't have long to wait because Paul growled and as he kissed flipped them over. "You fucking cocktease...looking for something?"

"Yes." He was all teeth when he said it, hooking a leg behind Paul's hips. "Are you going to give it to me?"

"Hell yes." Paul was trying to go through the motions of preparing him, but he was very eager and it was a little rough and fast with his fingers and the way he pushed into him.
Seb felt it, let himself feel it rather than the blanketing numbness he'd had for a while, reached down to brace his hand on Paul's bicep, gripping hard.

The other man thrust hard into him, his desperation wound up and ready to go. It wasn't going to take long for either of them to climax. Frantic thrusting, an amazing feeling even with the springs from the sofa digging into his back, because he could arch his hips up for more, more more, a hot stretching feeling that made his dick ache.

"More..."

"Insatiable bastard..." Paul panted as he strove to do just that. "I know you can fucking come without being touched if I just find the... right... angle..." He twisted as he thrust searching the elusive sweet spot.

Another twist, and Seb felt it, felt the pressure and the scrape of motion, and then Paul did it again and he was squirming to get it just right, just, just a burst of sensation, glorious and bright and hot behind his eyes, tight in his stomach as he came.

Paul managed a couple more thrusts before he climaxed as well and then collapsed exhausted on top of him. "Hmmm."

"Mmmh?" Seb echoed back, rubbing fingers against Paul's back while he felt himself start to go just a little soft.

"I must be getting old," Paul murmured. "I feel wiped." That was more likely to be the energy he took as part of the action, he had been hungry for any morsel of it given his way.

"Sorry, that was me. Let me snag you something from the kitchen..." He shifted carefully to squirm out from under Paul.

"That's okay then...I was begining to think I should prepare for the scrapheap if I couldn't manage a round of sex," Paul grinned and patted his side fondly. "My hungry teenage godling."

"I still think you're joking." He took his time stretching feeling tall and proud, comfortable in his skin, at least for a moment. He knew roughly how Paul kept his kitchen arranged and cooking up something quick and nutritious wouldn't be hard. And snagging a beer to help him do it, well...

"I'll have to do some research, but I think that there is something to it. You are not fading away Seb, you know that." Paul responded from the bed.

"Do your research." If there was anyone whose book research he trusted, it would be Paul except reaching as far back as he came from there were bad translations of their writings, and so much had been destroyed. He would do better by squinting at broken primary sources. "Sandwich good for you?"

"Yeah, sounds good. If there is anything in the fridge that is edible," Paul yawned.

It took a bit more rummaging then Seb had expected. He ended up finding frozen naan, and tossing it into the oven, along with some frozen salami that he cooked up to a bacon-y crisp.

It was enough to get Paul out into the kitchen still naked and yawning. "Gimme," he said and looked at him. "Dammit, suddenly you don't look like you've been lost for however long. "

"I told you, I was starving." And then he was starting to feel a little more grounded, a little more into himself.

"Yeah, well it's no substitute for food, I know you can survive without it but it drains your power reserves in a different way," Paul said taking the offered improvised sandwich. "Never seen a bacon butty made like this."

"Salami and naan. Tomorrow, you should get groceries in." He slapped one together for himself.

"Yeah, well you know...bit busy. Mycroft has his fingers in too many pies." Paul said with a mouthful. "And this business with setting your doctor buddy up with Sherlock... that's a risk."

"Is it?" He took a bite of his own, slowly chewing through it. "He needs a challenge..."

"Have you spent any long period of time in Sherlock's company?" Paul replied. His sandwich was nearly gone.

Sebastian leaned in, and kissed Paul loosely because he could. "Never, I'd rather set myself on fire."

"Yeah. Exactly. So for all Dr Watson needs a stressful environment he had been tortured and...who the hell knows what for over three months?" Paul said. "Fine line between not enough and too much." He chewed thoughtfully. "You noticed the fact he'd been conditioned?"

"To sacrifice. That..." Was amazing, and a huge turn on in ways that he was pretty sure would make even Paul uncomfortable.

"Doesn't even really know what he was doing. Makes you wonder what else he was conditioned with," Paul pointed out grabbing a drink. "C'mon, you can finish that in bed."

"More than you can imagine." He grabbed another beer, and wandered after Paul with his sandwich. Some things, Sebastian just wasn't in a mood to think about too hard.

---

After Moran had left, the world hadn't stabilized. He'd watched a nurse nick her hand, and reached for her wrist automatically. The wound turned tiny, disappeared altogether, and it was another one of those hallucinatory moments. She shrugged it off, calm, casual. But it made him wonder, broke the cycle of denial in his head enough to leave a crack of credulity. Once he started looking, there was a multitude of small things - dismissable individually but when he started adding them up, well, things were well beyond the coincidence range.

Chatting with other patients about brothers by name that they hadn’t told him about. Knowing personal details somehow - that was becoming rather common, and before he would have brushed it off as maybe he found out before and didn’t remember. Random accidental healing when he was around visiting guys he had been incarcerated with. Flashes of strange and mysterious things from them that only made sense if he stepped into that other paradigm. Accidental diagnoses that realistically he had no right knowing, but knew. Seeing a young Private walking down the hall towards him, just as he heard time of death called…

It was actually taking a lot of energy to deny everything, he seemed to be exhausted all the time and nothing made sense.

He didn't really expect to get a personalized pickup from the hospital, but there it was -- Colonel Moran, loitering in the doorway and all cleaned up, with a backpack of civvie clothes for John to wear. He looked lucid, which was better than the last time John had seen him. "I made a calculated guess on your size."

"Thanks I, uh..." He didn't know what to say. Maybe the guy was paying back after he treated his leg only... He was standing and walking on it fine and he hadn't been in the hospital that long. "You didn't have to do that." He remembered conversations but none of them made sense. Healing, sensitives, some sort of god stuff. Painkiller really did a number on him, but no matter what he took it didn't touch his bloody leg.

"I wanted to," Sebastian offered. "And it's... Coming home like this, after what happened, isn't easy. I've been struggling."

He looked up at that. Colonel Moran looked completely together. Fitter than he remembered from even a couple of days ago. "You have?"

He flashed a smile, and John swore there was a hint of too much canine. "Well, mentally. No one can seem to believe I was ever unwell."

"You are looking pretty good," he said taking the bag and rooting through it for something to put on. It was a matter of moments to pull off the hospital scrubs and slip on a jumper and then some trousers. He had to find somewhere to stay though and he really didn't want to see Harry. The two of them just seemed to wind each other up. It would have to be a cheap B&B until he could find a place then. Or maybe Mike would let him crash overnight . That was an idea. If he could remember his address. "Thanks, I'll get these back to you when I have somewhere to stay."

"Nah, keep them. Do you not remember that we were going to set you up with a place?" Seb suggested, stepping away from the door.

John frowned. "Well, kinda. But I also remember us talking about all sorts of other things that were obviously drug or PTSD induced."

"No, no drugs. We did talk about that, and..." He seemed to pause, moving in closer to John. They had a bit before his doctor made the rounds and discharged. "Do you mind if I sit down and we go over this from the top again so I don't entirely seem like a creepy bastard who's shown up to spirit you away?"

John exhaled. "Look, I remember what you said. I even remember seeing it happen when you cut yourself but it can't be true. Powers, sensitives, weird shit, you being some sort of distant relation to a god… I'm a doctor, I know that after the sort of experience I had hallucinations are likely. Visual, auditory , flashbacks. I just assumed the place to stay was part of all that."

Sebastian smiled, smirked as he sat down beside John. "Not hallucinations. Let me just..." There was a moment where the man's face seemed to elongate, his teeth grew, claws, a smooth shifting toward a giant cat-man, and then back to the human well composed officer he'd been expecting.

"What the fuck.." John stepped back a little. "How the hell did you.. shit, I'm hallucinating now!" He was stuck in a loop and he knew it.

Sebastian reached out to touch his arm. "No, the world is full of more than you expected, John, and you're part of it now."

Something happened then, and it made John realise how careful the nurses and doctors had been not to touch him skin to skin. A knowing, an awareness descended upon him with a cast iron inevitability that impressed the truth of Seb's nature into his bones. His defence mechanism of hallucination and stress was shredded into pieces leaving the stark reality behind. "Oh… bloody hell..."

The smile continued, and Sebastian leaned into him, grinning softly. "Everything exists. Gods and monsters, we all live. We fight and die and scrape out little pieces of the earth for ourselves."

"So all that.." he was going to say shit, but thought better of it. "...stuff is real, and when I go back to the hallucination thing, that is me repressing it?" God, that must be irritating for Seb. There he was showing him proof and John knew he had been systematically locking away memories of any weirdness.

"Yes. And if I have to go full jaguar to convince you, you had better believe it." He was still smiling, and it was hard to believe that the man was a God or something like it. That God or gods were real?

"I’ll pass on that for now," John said. He grimaced and memories pushed at his thought. "Okay. I’ll try and keep my denial under wraps. What was this about a place to stay?”

"Sherlock Holmes. He's dhampir." Sebastian offered it like it meant something, waiting to see if John understood at all.

"Which is what?" John was asking before he realised there was information in his mind telling him. Half vampire, supernatural abilities some vampire traits. "No, no I apparently have been told that before. Uh, why him?"

"He's the bosses' baby brother. There's no safer place in the world for you to get comfortable with this new reality."

"So he's going to tell me about all of this?" John said trying to get his head around everything, as his newly acquired information tried to settle in his head. "Fuck... what is it you think I am again? A Healer?"

"I can tell that you're a healer but that’s a part of the whole. You're what we would call a sensitive. It means you respond to the energies in the world. There are a lot of different ways this can be done. Clairvoyants, mind readers, touch readers, Healers, people who just know, there are so many shades. I would have called you a priest, A priest like no other. One of my priestesses once tried to learn to do what you do, and she wasn't able to handle it." Sebastian was smiling as he said it, body relaxed posture almost sprawling.

John stared at Seb a moment, feeling an unexpected rush of...something. Arousal maybe, but he wasn't sure that it wasn't just his own. After all the other man was long limbed, lean, powerful and sexy as all hell. "Aside from healing what did I do that so unusual?"

"You respond to pain, and you use it to your advantage. Do you know how powerful that is? To have a healer who can go to war, real war, and perform better than he would in boring circumstances. The trauma of a real war is more than most healers can deal with - to take what could be trauma and turn it to your powerful advantage..." He lifted his shoulders lightly.

He didn't quite get it, what was different about it but he nodded slowly. "I've always done well under pressure. So is this offer contingent on something?"

"Yes and no. We're.... what there is of an other-oriented group who supports the british government against... any comers.

"Sounds mysterious," John said standing up. His bloody leg was cramping like hell and he had to take the walking stick just to remain standing. "Well it's either this or my sisters and anything is preferable to that."

"Sherlock will make sure you hear too much about it. I'd suggest you stay with me, but..." Sebastian shrugged. "I'm too likely to be sent away at a moment's notice."

That was a real shame, and John couldn't quite hide his disappointment. "But while you are around we can meet up right?"

"I'd like that." Sebastian shifted, leaning against the edge of the bed rather than full standing up. "You'll see a lot of me if I'm lucky."

That wasn't a bad outcome, so John nodded. "Great. So, I guess you better whisk me away huh?"

"Once the doctor comes in here and signs off on you. Which should be soon. He should've been here already." Sebastian reached into his pocket to fish out car keys.

"He's chatting up a nurse," John said without thinking and then paused. How did he know that? Was it just a guess? "Oh, and striking out badly."

"This is what I meant by sensitive," Sebastian grinned, shifting to move past him. "You used to be the oracles of myth, you know..." He opened the door to peer down the hallway.

John shrugged slightly embarrassed by Sebastian's delight. "Yeah well you've already said I'm a bit weird as far as these things go." And there were footsteps heading his way.

"Good weird. Excellently weird." Sebastian waved to the doctor, and then stepped back inside. "I've been in the military so long this go round that I feel antsy being discharged from it."

He hadn't really thought of how that was going to work for him. John shook his head. "There goes my field surgeon ambitions.”

"I wouldn't write off your doctoring already," his doctor said as he entered. "You seem more lucid Dr Watson… I'm Dr Fielding. I just need to check you over."

"See, I knew you weren't all washed up," Sebastian teased, moving subtly out of the way, though he was a hard person to ignore.

John found himself focused on him while Dr Fielding ran over his vitals, checked his chart. He smiled a little suddenly sure Seb was being more than just a bit grateful. "Well John, you are much better off than you have a right to be. You still need to up your nutrient intake, and we will continue with investigations on your leg."

"Okay.. got that," he said nodding. "I've got a med pack?"

"Already done, the nurse will give it to you at the desk."

"Perfect. Actually, do you want to go snag a good lunch somewhere before we get you moved?" Sebastian asked, leaning away from the wall a little.

"Food sounds good," John agreed and he really was pretty hungry. Food fantasies were commonplace among the returning POW’s.

"Just make sure that you come to your appointments," Dr Fielding said. "I'll recommend a therapist.

Sebastian grimaced at that suggestion; he'd probably been assigned one as well, and John was willing to bet he hadn't or wouldn't go. It was a little hard to imagine how therapy would go if you started claiming to be a were-jaguar god thing.

Now he was accepting something was different, talking about it to a therapist was...not going to happen. But he nodded just the same. "Thanks."

"Just don't second guess the treatment," Dr Fielding said. "There you go, you are free to leave."

"Let's flee this excellent facility," Sebastian murmured, moving to lead the way out the door. "Thanks doctor."

John limped along after him, his leg giving him pain that seemed to have little medical basis. "I could murder a steak," he said. "They've had me on the bland diet and protein shakes. They are an acquired taste."

"Desperation and chalk is the taste," Sebastian agreed, slowly down to fall in pace with him with care. "Even the chocolate ones. Let's get you a steak then."

"I'll have to find a cashpoint," John said. "Shit, I don't have bank cards do I? I don't have any cash."

"Don't worry." The hand gesture that accompanied it was loose, relaxed. "I'm a soon to be retired Colonel. The least I can do is buy a nice meal for the both of us."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." He did, but he was going to have a lean time trying to get access to his own money. They stopped and picked up a barrel load of drugs from the hospital pharmacy, and John promised faithfully to attend outpatients appointments.

He would, mostly. Mostly. Except the therapist appointments, given the new... new. New reality he was learning about. "I don't know if Sherlock has a computer, actually. I can loan you one."

"You can?" John glanced at the other man as they made it out of the hospital. "I can speak to some old buddies, get things sorted. I'm just a bit, well it was sudden."

"No one expects to get kidnapped and tortured. I mostly use mine for paying bills. I suspect you can use it to order new bank cards," Sebastian countered.

"Hope this guy where I'm staying doesn't want cash upfront as a deposit," John mused having to limp slowly down the steps in contrast to Seb's fluid movement. "So are you going to be able to tell me more about all this?"

"Over dinner. It's easier for me to set up a barrier if we're not moving, and then we can talk as loudly or as bizarrely as we want." There was a flash of teeth. "I know a place that's walking distance if you want to chance it. They do a good bourbon, too."

Alcohol was probably a big no-no with the drugs he's been given but he hadn't taken any yet. It might be his only chance to have some. "Sounds good." Just as well, walking and conversation was difficult with him feeling stiff and a bit wiped out.

And Sebastian was glancing left and right, left and right, eyes moving curiously and fierce as they walked. John started to look left and right, left and right, and then he started to see things. Differences in the crowd jumping out at him in a way he’d never noticed before.

Every now and then, there was a startling image, a face that looked different. Animal like, glimmering somehow, or marked or… something. He didn't have words for what some of the things he was seeing could be.

He didn't know, didn't know where to start guessing, and Sebastian looked over his shoulder at him, putting a hand on the back of his shoulder. "If you can see them, they can see you."

"I never used to see them!" John hissed under his breath. "How do I stop?" He didn't want to be seen or noticed in any shape of form.

"I'll work with you on it. This is a very surface level you're using right now. You can't see me, can you?"

"No, not like you showed me before." The memory of the curiously human eyes in the feline face was weird. "So people hide themselves?"

"And the more powerful hide themselves so much better than the weaker ones. So it's not what you *can* see that you need to be scared of." Sebastian looked sideways at him, expression sharp, and delighted, eyes so so blue and bright.

"So you're pretty far up in the power stakes then?" John queried.

"For what I am. Last of a dying breed, last surviving Son of the Smoking Mirror." Sebastian shifted his fingers, rubbing gently.

"Okay, not sure what that is aside from something to do with a god," he said. He could see what looked like the restaurant up ahead.

And when they got a bit closer, he could smell the vague scent of meat. "Pre-Mayan, then Aztec. Some of the oldest of us survive. My father is still alive as well."

"So how is it that gods die then?" John frowned. Wasn't that the definition of being a deity, not being able to die?

"Belief keeps gods alive, or sacrifice to them. No altars, no year kings, I live on soldiers who trust me and people willing to help." He stopped, pulled the door open with a flourish.

"So, your men believe in you and that keeps you going?" John considered that. It made a form of sense - the intensity of bonds, belief in other people in the military was a matter of life or death. It had a power you didn't have to be sensitive to work out. And if he was in charge, in a strange way the death would be his responsibility which was pretty close to sacrifice.

"Yes. Or my team, or... Whatever I'm doing. Usually a war." Sebastian gestured to a table to the hostess, a corner booth, and she smiled.

"Thank you, sir, two?"

"Please," John nodded. The smell of steak and fries was making him practically dribble.

"Thanks." Sebastian sidled into the booth, so he could face the door. "This place is great."

"You've been before?" John asked as he sat down. It was the most he had walked since they had been rescued. He suddenly realised he wasn't sure how long he had been in hospital. "How long was I in the hospital? Things are a bit fuzzy."

"Three weeks." Sebastian reached for a menu, a drinks menu, and handed it over to John after half a moment.

That alarmed John. He really didn't remember hardly any of it. "So how many times have you had to explain this to me?"

The slow small smile was easy and bright as he glanced up at John. "A few. I actually got you as far as out here once, except you had a bit of a fit, and I checked you back in."

"Oh shit, that doesn't sound good." John rubbed his temples. "Is it stuff following on from there or… what?"

"It is. Most people... Come into what they are in a much gentler way." He unscrewed the top of the salt shaker, and carefully dropped some to the side of their table, then swiped his fingers around the edge of the table, a flourish of a gesture. "There."

It was weird but he could feel...something. A low level humming vibration. "I can feel that," he said amazed.

"Good. We didn't get that far the last time. We will have to, once you've had more time, work out your limitations. There are techniques that you may be able to use that others cannot, or have not ever thought about. What you can do is a darker thing then many on our side ever wants to deal with. Luckily, you have fallen in with a reformed group." He dusted the excess salt from his hands over the middle of the tablecloth. "Who are at least a group who sees the gray in the world and understands that it has a place."

"Okay, I think I need a run down of what people like me normally do and why what I do is darker?" John asked. He glanced at the menu and knew what he wanted instantly. His instincts told him the sirloin steak would be amazing with the works.

"What a sensitive with healing skills usually does is faint in the middle of a battle when the pain and emotional trauma surrounding them overwhelms them and their talent. Sometimes they make good spies, and sometimes, not usually, they make great advisors. But healing is an added level of power. You know your environment, and you can change it. You reach out and you tell another person's body to do your bidding - it takes energy from a healer to do that and there have been cases of Healers draining themselves of energy completely to save another. You on the other hand felt my pain and it fed you energy that you made into healing energy. That is new."

"So healer sensitives overload on pain, or they drain themselves trying to stop the pain? And I...what, I used it like a battery charger?"

"Yes." Sebastian looked particularly pleased at the metaphor. "You recharged yourself. I imagine that with time you could probably just heal without touching anything in your vicinity and keep that flow up if you won control. They were trying to weaponise you.”

"I remember feeling..starving but full." John frowned at the dim recollections. "Like my skin was tight. So, did they weaponise me?"

"You tell me. You're not a gun that someone can handle and point where they want. Are you?"

John flinched slightly. "I… don't know." He could feel his heart rate accelerating. He was saved from an incipient panic attack by their order being taken, after which time he had managed to get a grip on himself. "Is what I did with you being weaponised?"

"No. If you had reached inside me, and started to take me apart, then you would've been weaponised." Sebastian took a sip of his water, clearly waiting for his beer to come.

"Do you think that was what they were expecting me to do? Out of… hunger or defense or something?" John asked trying to get his head around what he could remember.

"Yes. They didn't expect me to feed on you." They might not have even known what Seb was, and John still wasn't clear on it after having it explained to him a few times.

"What out there can feed then? On people?" John queried and paused as the drinks arrived. “Aside from demons or whatever it was.”

"What, an energy... sponge? Not sure." Sebastian said honestly once the waiter had left. "Paul's researching."

"And Paul is some sort of, what... Harry Potter wizard?" John queried again. He remembered words, that crackled with power, lights like a mortar attack or several million pounds worth of special effects.

"Battle mage." Sebastian grinned, taking a sip of his pint. "But thanks. Harry Potter Wizard. Now I'll never forget that."

John found himself grinning back and there it was again, a distinct pull of attraction."And when we were outside what was I seeing...who was I seeing?"

"A bit of everything. Vampires, the people, ghosts, a couple of ghouls - you get more of everything in London. In most cities, you'd see nothing." He tapped his finger on the tabletop. "Ah, it's on the tip of my tongue. I've heard a word for you."

"Useful to know I'm not a completely unknown freak," John replied feeling a bit more relaxed.

"Bird something." Sebastian cracked a grin, and took another sip of his drink. "Heyoka? Less feathered serpent, and more wide spread wings and thunder."

"And you don't get on with feathered serpents," John said without thinking. "More to the point, I remember what you do with birds." It was a strangely arousing thought and he had no idea why.

"That pigeon was a lot tastier than the gruel we were being fed in the hospital." There was a sly gleam to his eyes. "I'm not like that to all birds."

"Oh really?" John said with a snort. "The shortage of chickens in Afghanistan is now explained."

"Oh." Sebastian sighed, looking deeply thoughtful for a moment. "Sorry, that's a damn good thought. Duck hunting, too. I miss shifting over fully and not ending up in a zoo for it."

"So you can really do that? I sort've remember seeing a massive great cat of some description." John shrugged and paused again as their food was brought.

"I can shift to any comfortable point I want. It's very useful in battle, to have claws and fangs instead of soft hands." He did unroll the knife and fork from a napkin and placed it on his lap.

"Does your appearance change then?" John asked. "Because you don't look particularly Mayan or Aztec?"

"For a long time I looked like a jaguar had been messily smashed into a person. This shape... Or things close to it maybe the last 700 years. This body feels good to me." He wasn't overly muscled, and probably more closely fit another times ideals of beauty.

"You look pretty good to me too," John said smiling a little. His plate had somehow become empty. He'd been eating like a starving wolf. "What else out there exists then? If vampires do."

"Werewolves. We call them the People. They're very different from myth, and they have a rich cultural tradition, and oral history that has bound them for thousands of years. Because most of them are wolves, but not all of them. There are skin shifters, there are witches and warlocks and battle mages, Angels and Demons, there's every mythical creature you've ever read about. I've never met your God, but I do know people who have dealt with your Lucifer. There are tricksters, and it doesn't end. There are whispers in the dark that could tear you to shreds." He cut a piece of steak, and slid across onto John's plate.

"So how is it we don't know about them publicly?" John said. He wanted to say ‘no’ but it seemed his stomach was a bottomless pit.

"Did you believe me when I told you? No. And yet you do believe in God and the devil, yeah? And Jesus, and maybe guardian angels? And you might think Bigfoot is bullshit, yeah, but sometimes you're outside and you move a little faster and you don't know why. You just hurry inside and slam the door shut behind yourself."

"It seems weird that people don't know more. And yeah I've done that, definitely. " Saved lives too by doing it.

"The people who talk about it end up on tv shows where they are mocked. Willingness to believe in things used to be a lot stronger. Now, you have science." He leaned back to nurse at his beer, and gestured to the waiter. "We'll have another round, a plate of fries, and your dessert menu."

"You know, when I get my money sorted I'll have to take you out to dinner to pay you back," John said.

"You can if you want to, yeah." He relaxed once the man left, glancing around the room. "So. That's where we are in the world."

"It still feels unreal," John admitted. "But I'm holding it together this time."

"You are, and I'm proud of you for that. I have my moments of disbelief as well. Paul was trying to convince me that I'm not dying, I'm an adolescent. Sometimes you'll hear shit even now and think it's crazy."

"You're...an adolescent?" John nearly choked on that. "Really? How does he figure that?"

"Hungry and horny. Restless, too, but captivity wasn't a breeze for any of us, was it?" He finished the pint off.

"No. It's still all fragmented for me," John replied. "I remember bits but not much sense."

He remembered the ferocity hot and bright for some reason. "So does that sort of thing happen often? You doing that?"

"Fighting demons and things deemed dangerous to England? Yes. You could, too."

However crazy it sounded, it was better than the prospect of perpetual GP or doctor locum work. That was pretty much all he would be fit for with his leg like this, unable to get a permanent appointment because of his health and background. He did have the queen and country thing somewhere in him, or he wouldn't have become an active field based doctor. "Okay, but what can I do? Heal people in a combat situation? I've done that all of… once?"

"Good enough," Seb smiled, cutting a piece of his steak up. "You're a soldier. Aren't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm a doctor, a surgeon and a bloody good one, "John said as he started eating and discovered he was ravenous. He also wondered how much of his exemplary record had been real surgery.

Now that was going to gnaw at him. Was it less so because it was magic?

"You are. You can still be one. Just... In a different sort of world and line of work."

"Well I guess it beats treating rashes and runny noses," John said with a shrug. "You said a lot of people like me went crazy? Is there something I should be doing?”

"To not go crazy?" Sebastian chewed slowly on his steak, and washed it down with a swig of beer. "Just be open. You've already passed the point of crazy."

"Not sure if that is reassuring," John said dryly. "God, this is good." After however long and then hospital, it was divine.

"Drink a little. Relax. The good times make living worth it." Sebastian slouched back in his bench.

"Yeah." He took a drink. "So you and Paul, you're a thing?" he said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

There was a gleam in Sebastian's eyes. "We're, what do you call it? Old friends with benefits. Not exclusive."

"Oh really?" John said, his interest perking up. He wasn't a poacher at heart but he could remember that frantic togetherness in the cell and half wanted to see what it would be like when they were on form.

"It's a weird community to date in, as you can imagine." Sebastian took another swig of his beer. "But Paul's got a long term partner."

"...and still sleeps with you?" John queried trying to get his head around it. "Never mind, not my place to comment on that. So, some of these special ops, what have you done?"

"Sleeping with my bosses partner on random occasions," he dead panned. "I'm not sure where to start. I came back with the Spanish, and wandered around Europe and India for a while. Done some interesting stuff against the Russians and the nazis."

"You've been everywhere then?" John asked. "I've done a bit of that myself. New places are interesting, have a different feel."

"New times," Sebastian countered, "as well. Every decade is a vast change."

Following an impulse John reached over and lightly touched Seb's hand, and instantly had flashes of interesting images, nearly laughing as he saw Seb sporting a massive moustache in his thoughts. "What was your favourite decade?"

"Oh, I liked the turn of the century." He paused, tipped his head down. "Last century. It was full of wonder and excitement at what might come next."

"Did you ever have an enormous moustache?" he asked, curious as to whether the image had been correct.

"Well groomed. It was the style of the time." He rubbed at the side of his jaw idly. "It's the style of the time again, too. It was fascinating to see so much facial hair. The Spaniards were big on that as well."

"It sounds interesting. I've always wanted to actually visit countries instead of occupy them. " John said "Afghanistan, what was that like?"

"When?" He grinned again, looking terribly pleased with himself as he ate another bite. "The first time?"

"Anytime,"John said with a shrug. "I imagine it was different in the past."

"It was gorgeous. I lived in Herat for a time, and fought there twice. Two separate battles, almost two hundred years apart. But the old Herat..." He spread his hands. "Old stone walls that were old in the early 1800s. It made me think of home."

"Home being South America?". It was amazing to think of the other mn as so much older than he looked.

"Yes. I went back , it's Veracruz now. True cross. Funny to think of that. I travelled a lot then, too." He picked up a fry with his fingers. "But the buildings and the deep seeping depth of it."

“What was it like? Going back that is?” John asked.

"I remember it very sharply, but there's still not much sense. They were invoking demons and evil," Sebastian murmured. "And the fires they were burning, the smoke, those were sacrifices."

John grimaced. "Were a lot of them like you? I mean are people like us sought after as sacrifices?" Was he the sirloin steak of the supernatural world?

"Yes. Sensitives in particular. You kill something and you take its power, you absorb it or you remove a threat from the world. My father did it ages ago."

"What did he do?" John asked very curious even as their desserts arrived. Everything was new and fascinating.

Sharp, and the food was a compliment to the ravenous for knowledge feeling he had. "He ate his other sons and daughters." Sebastian plunged his fork into a substantial piece of chocolate cake. "I was unusually busy when this went down.”

"Conveniently?" John smiled a little. His dessert was disappearing rapidly.

"Wisely. I… never felt the urge to sacrifice for him. And why be one at all if you're unwilling."

" I suspect there are a lot of gods who are less picky," John replied and then winced a little as a memory flashed across his mind. Darkness and a presence pushing and pushing at him until his head felt like it was going to explode, whispering inside his mind with a voice like a slithering tentacle and while he was fighting it, trying to hold onto control of his mind, he could see his body pick up a knife and pull a slash across his arm and a feeling of complete and utter delight in the process. It disturbed him that apparently this was buried in him.

"Many," Sebastian agreed, "my type do prefer willing. What're you remembering..."

"Something." John shook it off but it left a faintly raw sensation in his head." Not sure what. Fighting something in my head making me do… stuff." He couldn't help glancing at his arm a moment, still amazed that there was so little evidence of those deep cuts. Just faint hints of paler skin if you caught the light right.

Sebastian's eyes followed his gaze, and he quirked a curious look. "You were amazing out there."

He could remember more of it now. " I remember some of it now. The others, are they okay? What happened to them?"

"The ones we rescued? They're good, being integrated back into their societies and being taken care of." It made him wonder why, except if it was the British government, it did them a favor to keep those people in semi comfort. People like him and Sebastian.

" Like you're doing for me?" John finished his dessert. " Mm. So yeah. I remember healing your leg. Is that something I can do all the time or only when I'm stuffed with energy?"

"All the time, once you get a control of yourself," Sebastian murmured.

" Okay that is impressive," John said, thoughtful at the implications. That was a major upside to this craziness, because there was no surgeon alive who didn’t regret their losses." I mainly remember that and the thing when you and Paul were fighting… and the uh… sex." He coughed, a little embarrassed.

But Sebastian just smiled, still at ease as he scraped up the last of his cake. "I can't quite forget the sex. You felt very good. It helped me wake up from the stupor of pain."

"Well it was under odd circumstances," John said trying to give the impression he was not averse to trying it not under odd circumstances. "I'm pretty sure the conditions weren't… optimum."

"Interested in seeing how things are under better conditions?" Sebastian was toying with his glass as he said it.

John smiled. "Yeah. I mean if you're up for that. Maybe after I've moved in wherever I'm going, but despite evidence to the contrary I'm not crazy enough to turn down that sort of offer."

"It's protection as well as a nice flat," Seb reiterated. "The smarter of us tend to live near others. Sometimes you want a neighbor with three eyes."

"Do you live near, what's his name? Holmes?" John asked, hoping the answer was yes.

"Across the street," which was both a yes and enough detail to make John feel comfortable that it was an enthusiastic yes.

He grinned at that. "So aside from the fact my room mate to be is a dhampir, what else is he like?"

"Too intelligent, too easily bored. Also he's a detective for hire. It keeps him from being bored. He doesn't work for his brother."

"A detective? A private investigator?" He sounded interesting at least.

"Not quite a private investigator. A private detective - not handing over a stack of photos of your cheating husband, but solving mysteries, supernatural and not." Sebastian leaned back. "That was very good."

"Yeah. Apparently I really was starving," John replied. He felt a lot more grounded and settled for the food in his stomach as well.

He half felt there was a nudge of foot against his under the table. "I bet. Let's just get you... Settled in again. Once you've met Sherlock, I'll come over and let you borrow my computer."

He nodded at that. "Okay then. Thanks for this, I really appreciate it." He did. Seb didn't have to do all this, they had barely met before the escape.

And the response and help was... Fairly lavish. It did make a man just a little suspicious, but the military was sometimes like that. Sebastian waved down the waiter, and pulled out a card to pay.

---

He hadn't invited anyone over in years; Paul didn't count, Paul invited himself over, but it did make Sebastian consider himself as he crawled out of bed. His flat was well appointed, expensive, if a little old. His bed was spacious, and covered in furs, comfortable for him to paw at, but it always unsettled the normals. Still, since coming home he'd been wrapping himself in the familiar comforts, grounding himself and working out what had gone wrong in his purview during his absence.

Mycroft had him running some of his networks which were...not to put to fine a point on it not strictly legal. After the pecking order had been established, it wasn't too hard for him to keep on top of things and up to a point they were self running. But every now and then, someone new thought they could come in and kick over the anthill.

Which seemed to happen when he wasn't looking, which meant he needed to sharpen up, get dressed, and go kick some doors in. He staggered out of bed, relieved himself, and took a quick minute in the hot water of his shower before grabbing a razor to tidy up his human form.

He wasn't sure how much of Paul's idea of him hitting adolescence in divine terms was but there was no doubting he felt a bit different. He looked better though, he bounced back rapidly and he liked the appearance he had now - it was so ingrained it took an effort not to take this shape. Maybe he was becoming more human. Thoughts of John occasionally interrupted his shaving ritual though, making him consider the reaction. Yes, they had met under dire circumstances, but should he be so focused on him?
His brain was supplying him John, John, John, while he shaved and trimmed his hair a little, and it made his dick ache because he wanted more John. It was stupid and completely derailing when he needed to consider signs and activities that could be considered dire portents for their reality.

Mycroft had been interested in a way that did not bode well. Sherlock had been very interested in John when he had introduced them as well, but Sherlock was notoriously asexual. Sex was boring to him, which Seb considered meant he wasn't doing it right. But he'd had a gleam in his eye when he was bantering with John that stirred his possessive streak.

He wanted to protect and shelter John, and, and... He didn't know. There was no next step, just an aching interest, and he almost always had a next step.

Clean shaven again, and looking like he was ready for work. Even if officially he wasn't signed off yet. He contemplated his priorities. He had lent John a computer -- easy enough, his spare room was like the tech graveyard where old laptops went to die. John had been busy trying to get his life back; being declared nearly dead was hell on bank accounts.

Bank accounts, bills, just getting things he was missing, Seb understood it. He was just more accustomed to starting fresh in new and interesting ways.

They hadn't managed to get together properly, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing as John needed time to get his head around all of it, but it just proved to him he wanted to see him again. Time to dust off seeing his network second in command, see what was going on.

He had managed to balance his workload well when he was in the army, managing it at a distance, and on leave. But disappearing into captivity, that was different. It wasn't as if he had gone under cover, and meant to do it. Maybe he was actually losing his grip. There was a time when that never would've happened.

Mind you, there had been a time when he thought he could just do anything without it going wrong. He took a moment to put on an amulet Paul had crafted for him which had a piece of cold iron encased and shielded in lead because Irene was a tricky one to deal with and would spin intrigue just for the love of it sometimes.

She wasn't a very trustworthy second in command, though she was good at the job. She just had her own interests... Which often didn't intersect with his.

Still when it came to manipulation, Irene was a master...or mistress. He wasn't that fond of cold iron himself but it affected those with Fey blood like Irene a lot more than it did him. For a start she wouldn't be able to use her faery glamour to make her so beautiful it would make him lose his mind.

She said it was unfair that he was allowed to look however he wanted, but he was using it to blend into society not to look as good as he wanted.

Driving over to Irene's place gave him a chance to collect his thoughts and run through priorities. He was hoping there was no disasters to deal with . Irene was more than capable of taking someone down but she did like to toy with them first and that was not always the best idea.

It was never the best idea, if he was honest, and it always seemed to be her first and favorite. He could've called her, but he did prefer face to face dealings with her, even if it was on her own territory.

As he reached her house, got out of the car and approached the door he noted that her wards had had an upgrade. Interesting. Did that mean she had a reason to put up more fortification or had just done that because business was good?

A knock at the door elicited one of Irene's lackeys to escort him inside.

He was silent as he was shown in, not choosing to engage with the lackeys - he didn't want to and he didn't have to, dammit. He was there to deal with Irene.

"Sebastian, a pleasure to see you back from your latest brush with death." Irene was sitting, looking flawless as ever with her faint curve of a smile."You are looking better than information implied you would be."

"I do wonder where you get your information." He inclined his head in a polite greeting to her. "You look stunning as ever."

"Thank you. Jeanette, fetch Colonel Moran here a coffee, our finest blend...unless you would prefer something stronger?"

"No, coffee would be excellent. Thank you." He mostly ate for pleasure and supplemental energy -- and the enjoyment of it. Coffee, alcohol was much the same.

Jeanette left and Irene was studying him. "So I take it you have come to see whether the empire has fallen," she said with a faint curve of a smile.

"No. The empire hasn't fallen. I've come to see if there's any money left in the vaults. Metaphorically." It was much more a question of how the empire *was*, and what was looming out there.

"Mmm. Yes, the bottom line is healthy," Irene gesturing to a table where documents rippled into sight. "I knew you would drop around at some point. Accounts and breakdowns."

He leaned forward to reach for them, keeping his eye on her all the while. "I see and how did you amuse yourself in my absence.

"There are always those who make the mistake of assuming a woman will be weak and easily overpowered," she said. "I am afraid that a few of your acquaintances are not available any more."

"Haven't noticed they're missing yet. Who are they?" Most people were passing thoughts to him, little flashes in the pan. The ones who stuck with him, stuck with him hard.

"Davidson, Kostova,...oh and the entire Drozdzweski gang," Irene said with a dismissive flick of her fingers. She was testing his resolve to take power pack, he could tell from the sly glance.

"All extremely useful assets which I am assuming you have replaced with whom?" Given what he had just come from, a place where things mattered, to come back to this was beyond frustrating.

"Trustworthy people. Loyal ones grateful for the opportunity," Irene said evasively as his coffee arrived. "I'm sure you have more important things to worry about."

"Not a damn thing." He gave her a flash of teeth, too many teeth, and accepted the coffee as he finally sat down.

"Go on."

"Samuels has Davidson route, I appointed the Barlow twins in place of Kostova," Irene said "...and the O'callaghans in the place of the gang."

The O'callaghans? That was the Irish Fey right there, with direct links to the Bean Sidhe...and notably mainly women. That was a dangerous political move -- the welsh, scottish and English Fey would not be impressed.

"I see. Did you also gather a lot of other Irish support while I was gone? Because you're going to need to handle that you've pissed off the various clans." He was such an outsider, and generally assumed to be of the People, that he did not run afoul of the politics. The People united regardless of national origin, mostly because at one point or another every nation they'd ever been to had tried to kill them.

"The other clans respect my word," Irene said. "Do you think I did not think of that? They are in agreement."

Seb knew the only way they would agree was through some significant bribe of promise. He had a horrible feeling Irene was giving them changelings, the thing that the Fey sought from this world most of all - human children.

And with changelings came outsiders, came people who knew it wasn't right and tried to fix it. Came do-gooders. "You've given them bloody babies haven't you?"

"Babies that were abandoned to die. I have given them rights to any abandoned babies in certain territories," she said as if that was perfectly reasonable. "And yes, there were qualifiers on what constituted abandoned. Everybody wins. The children live, become fey changelings and don't die as would have been their fate."

"Left in the stroller outside a shop while mom gets coffee?" He lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Left for a minimum of twelve hours alone, or in danger of death within one minute," Irene said. "The deal is made and sealed and cannot be unbroken until at the earliest, the next equinox."

He thought about it for a moment, took his time and sipped at the coffee while he considered it. "Fair. Fair."

"I'm glad you agree." Irene said. "It has mellowed relations with the Fey a great deal. Mycroft of course will not scruple to bargain in children but will turn a blind eye when it works."

Everything was very close to the surface, ruminations, and he wondered what John had awoken in him to make him feel like that after so long. He could see babies held in priest laps, dying natural deaths and offered up as sacrifice. "Tell me when it stops working or if we need to rein it in."

"It would appear so. Activity is increasing," Irene said. "Your own experience I believe attests to that."

"Why?" He was missing something vital. The upheavals of the world came from something, we're not just chance.

"Power vacuum, created or accidental but it disrupts things," Irene said. "Mycroft will be busy no doubt."

"We all will be. Keep this stable."

She nodded at that. "So, I am intrigued as to your new focus of interest Sebastian."

"Which is what again?" He didn't want to offer her rich information that she'd use against him.

"The rescuee you have spent such a personal amount of time on. Major John Watson I believe?" Irene was watching him closely.

Who knew what she was getting off him, and what she did or did not actually know. "He's my type."

"Oh indeed.And what type is that?" Irene studied him obviously looking for clues.

It was hard to not get irate at her suggestion, though, at the curve of her lips as she said it. "None of your damned business."

"But Sebastian, it is my business. Literally." Irene sipped her tea. "In all the years I have known you, I have not seen you behave this way over a human."

She had to know his living situation as well, so perhaps her flags were already up. "I'm allowed my petty obsessions now and again. I always obsessed over my priests."

He shouldn’t have said that. That was a stupid thing to reveal.

"Oh, a priest for you is he? Or you want him to be?" Irene laughed. "He is special of course, or he would not be with Sherlock."

"Possibly he just has a high tolerance for assholes." But he'd made it more personal than how powerful John was, even with the embarrassing admittance that he wanted John as his priest.

For many of the gods who were left it was an intimate relationship. Some never admitted it was more than a partnership, but it was something instinctive to those of the divine blood. They wanted someone that way. Paul might give him a little something, but he did not fool himself that Paul would ever be a priest to any god. Let alone the one whose beer he nicked.

"Perhaps he does. So is he mage blood or Other?" Irene asked coyly. She was probably wondering if she could poach him.

"Mage blood, but Paul is doing a workup on his lineage. Shame to let a mage go to waste..." Sebastian sipped at his coffee slowly. "And my dalliances are mine."

It was a lie, but he couldn't let anyone know that John was something different. "Spoil sport. Well if you start getting creative, I know someone who does nice custom work," Irene answered looking disappointed. "Now, there is a cartel from eastern Europe petitioning for access through one of our territories. Do you want me to handle it as before?"

"I want to know what cartel and why. There are things moving out there." He let a fraction of concern show in his voice. "We can't assume everything right now is for money."

"I see. Perhaps you need to apprise me of what happened in Afghanistan. My information tells me that you were captured and many of the Others were collected at a secret facility. Are you saying this is part of something bigger?" Irene asked.

"Multiple facilities reaching up into Russia, across the 'stans, and consolidating down to afghanistan as we were culled. This required organization, and was feeding Ahriman."

"A high level demon?" she asked. "Tucked there of all places, suckling off of war. It was in the wrong territory… Where were the protectors, the other gods?"

"Gone or dead." Now that was a concerning thought. There was a balance to the world, and that balance seemed to be missing, if he considered it.

"Mm. That does not bode well. That is a lot of infrastructure." Irene said. "I will see what information I can glean from my sources."

"Creatures of destruction myths," Sebastian murmured. "Never a good sign. I want you listening."

"I can listen," Irene replied. "There have been reports of signs and omens from reliable people."

"What signs, and what omens?" He had to know, he needed to know enough of the threads of activity going on that he could pull together the big picture, that moment where everything made sense.

"There's rumours of things happening in America. Things are going… mainstream," Irene crossed her legs. "I have unsubstantiated reports that Sheppard has been recruited. I'm sure you remember him."

"Recruited?" He huffed a laugh. "One of the best fixers. Gone what...? Who recruited him."

"We believe that the US Military have finally seen the light as it were," Irene sounded amused. "I do have a confirmed photo of him in the company of a certain Dr Rodney McKay."

"Oh." And he thought of muddy feet, and brain like no other in the University archives in Rome, and moments, a snapshot in time that were begging him to look at all of them at once. Why, why now and what was important that his brain was throwing up everything associated with everyone he met. Maybe it had been John's doing. "That is interesting..." Because there were gods and then there seemed to be the creator. The creation story over all of the other creation stories. The powers that he could not invoke to fight things that he probably didn't have the strength to fight. Sebastian took a large sip his coffee and pressed his shoulders against the back of the sofa.

"Indeed. A potent combination if they don't kill each other. There was another man, but him I've never heard of, a Dr Carson Beckett. Are you aware of him?"

"No, but it could be another name." Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. Or a complete unknown like John. "So we're all stepping up."

If all the Tricksters were surfacing then it must be end times...or something trying to make it end times.

"I will pass on further information, do have fun with your would be priest. You could use all the power you can get I suspect," Irene said as she got up to see him out.

It wasn't how either of them had expected that exchange to go and it was clearly unsettling for them both. She would taunt him another time. For now, he needed to see what else he'd missed in the world that the only good they were left with was men like him and Sheppard, and fallen angels.

Chapter 3

Summary:

There were the crazy eyes again and they were inextricably linked with Sherlock. They were dancing around each other, their movements so fast… faster than mortals could be but eyes locked on each other. A flash of lightning and he could see the laughing visage of the other man as they danced off of a roof and Sherlock was falling, falling, falling forever taking the other man with him. Another man. Shorter, staring, laughing as behind them as they fell, a cloud with wolfs teeth engulfed the last light in the heavens. Blackness, nothingness and sheer terror as something... something slithered in the void , creeping closer and closer and it would rip everything, destroy everything and there was nowhere, all there was was nowhere and coldness that was sucking the life from everything.

---

By the end of his day learning and re-learning the city, the rhythm of things, he was depressed and feeling miserably under-classed. At the end of the day, he was like an old member of the People, and no more useful in a fight than one. Vicious, yes, and cunning, but out of touch with his capabilities. Lazy.

He was more than a were, though he often passed for one and a lot of their society knew him as a were-jaguar rather than as nearly forgotten demi-god. The only gods who survived were those who adapted, or managed to persuade a 'priest' to somehow promote them. The age of fiction and movies has dragged quite a few back from the brink as had the occasional mainstreams foray's into the occult. Seb didn't have anyone like that, he'd decided a long time ago that he was not his father. The Smoking Mirror, the Night Sun may have destroyed and rebuilt the world of his followers, but Seb had seen before his other brothers and sisters that his father did not share power. He’d carved his own niche and made do with the energies to be found in his new vocations.

He was hungry, and he pulled it down into himself, and it had sustained him fatly over the years. But it was living, not for any purpose. Just survival. Just... He exhaled, and knocked on Sherlock's door.

He heard a "Get the door John!" and he could imagine the dhampir lying on his couch doing nothing and then John's "What did your last servant die of?...no, no don't tell me, blood loss." Then the door opened. "Seb, thank god, come in."

"Oh not him, he'll shed over everything."

"Good seeing you, too. I should claw the sofa as well." He leaned in to John, half awkward between trying to hug him and trying to shake his hand, and he really needed a drink or more coffee after the day he'd had.

John managed to somehow not get crushed in the awkward attempt at contact and he heard an inhalation of breath as he touched him. "I wouldn't put it past you," Sherlock said. "Bored, Bored, Bored.. .and if you've come from my brother I may have to shoot you."

John was looking somehow better. Seb had seen people in Sherlock's company before. Usually tolerance levels were measured in hours not days.

"Come in, I'll get you a coffee," John said, his limp barely visible.

"Thanks. I'm just here to see John. There's been a lot of portents, but Mycroft hasn't said anything." He rubbed a hand through his hair.

"That's my ever loving brother for you. All thought and very little action," Sherlock stared at Seb for a moment and then smirked. "Bring me tea John."

"You usually forget to drink it," John answered from where he was boiling the kettle. It was interesting to see that Sherlock could not compel him, and he'd seen him do it before. "Sugar Seb?

"Please." He moved in closer, half wanting to help because he didn't know what else he could do to compel things along. Without compelling.

"Just ignore Sherlock, he's been unbearable today," John said cheerfully. He was sneaking glances at Seb, and seemed much more focused and together. "I was considering escaping to your place but I wasn't sure if you were in."

"I was out and... Ugh, catching up on my job," Sebastian offered, leaning against the wall. "Now I'm in."

"And sniffing around like a cat in heat," Sherlock added as John passed over the coffee.

"Sherlock." John admonished. "Ignore him."

"Clear signs of arousal, pupil dilation, nostril flaring and unconscious flexing of fingers," Sherlock reeled off. "Also, smells like you have been to see Ms Adler. She is obviously the source of your information."

"One of many. Have you seen anything unsettling?" He tipped his head a little, folding his arms and trying to not respond to Sherlock.

"Me?" John looked at him. "Well, we've been to murder scenes and some of that was a bit overpowering."

"Interesting though," Sherlock said. "I'm going to get Lestrade to get out some of the cold cases, see what John can find on the evidence."

"You can sense things about scenes?" He could see how, just from that guess, if he was right, how John and Sherlock might get on like a house on fire.

"Sometimes," John shrugged. "and it's not usually giving me a convenient 'and this is who killed me' sense. It's more weird and snapshot based. But often it's enough to set Sherlock off and running." He was standing very close to Seb while he drank his tea.

Seb cupped his coffee, and gave John a particularly open ogle, just in case he were sensing things for pleasure as well as fun. "This is why Sherlock was a good choice."

"Naturally," Sherlock said and looked at John. "Oh really John, drinking tea with him turns you on? "

John choked a little at that.

He reached a hand out to pat John on the shoulder and steady him. "It's the little joys, Sherlock."

"Take the inevitable shagging to your place when it happens," Sherlock instructed waving a hand diffidently.

John cleared his throat, glancing up at him for a moment. "For someone not interested in sex, you talk about it a lot Sherlock."

"Yes well, when you are constantly surrounded by people flaunting their availability, then yes."

"Everyone else in the world," Seb offered as he leaned in to try and kiss the edge of John's temple. It felt amazing. "I want to hear your adventures these past days."

"He was just an annoying nuisance," Sherlock contributed.

"I am rated highly, as you can see," John said dryly."I will tell you everything if we can go over to yours because I suspect staying here will end badly."

"Yes, let's do that." He took another sip of the coffee, half determined not to let it go to waste. "I want to hear you talk about your adventures, without the color commentary."

John grinned at him. "It involves me going... 'Sherlock, wait up!' a lot."

"You need to learn to keep up, John," Sherlock admonished.

"Long legged creature of the night," Seb muttered, "I bet sometimes he's flying but he'll never give that away."

"You can fly?" John glanced at Sherlock as he put his empty cup down. "You bloody cheat."

Sherlock flashed a quick grin at them both. "Simple observation could have told you that."

"Gloating bastards, every Dhampir I've ever met." But he didn't mind them - that was a distinction that was important, finding friction versus outright hatred.

"Mmm. Right, we're going over to Seb's, don't wait up," John said and that was a clear indication that John was not just going to be discussing what he had been up to over the last few days.

He waved at Sherlock as he set his mug down, stepping out of John's way to let him pass. "Good seeing you again, Sherlock.

"Tedious as ever, Moran," he bade goodbye, as they escaped the flat.

"I've been waiting for you to turn up again. Been busy?" John asked as they made their way down to the street.

"Trying to get my head straight, then trying to get my business straight. None of it's good news." He hunched his shoulders a little, walking closer to John. It wasn't far, which was perfect.

John looked at him as they did a brisk walk over the road. "Anything I can do to help?"

"You actually might. As a Sensitive you know more about things going on around you than I do, and I'd rather keep you well-informed." But it hadn't been why he gone over to see John. "I also have a really good bottle of red wine."

"Really? Sherlock informed me you only drink the cheap stuff," John said in a teasing tone. "Don't get too excited about whatever it is that I'm doing. It's not really much of anything. Sherlock can do more with observation."

"I'm excited," Sebastian countered, "because I enjoy talking to you and you have a unique point of view."

"Well that I can do, unique points of view," he smiled. "And rechargeable battery on request."

Phrased like that, it sounded sort of bad, like he didn't have anything he was contributing back. Worst feeling in the world, being a non-contributor in their small world. "Now I feel both guilty and happy to see you."

John shook his head. "Let's get this straight, I'm practically putting up a flag here. I'm the one asking. Not to put too fine a point on it, every time I think about you, I get as turned on as hell and when you came over you drank a cup of tea at me and I nearly came in my pants. The only reason to be guilty is that you didn't come over before."

He laughed, half embarrassed as he opened the door to his building and started up the stairs. "Okay. Okay. I did come over once but no one was home. I figured Sherlock had you in a brain lock of excitement. And... I know this has to be strange." With a little space and time, John seemed to have dove head first in.

"Strange doesn't cover it really." He followed him up the stairs. "But Sherlock goes on about evidence, and I've given myself evidence."

"I want to hear about it." He didn't ask Sherlock what he did, Sherlock sort of mowed through life and explanations in a way that made his head hurt.

"Well, our first case, which started with an actual case, a pink one, I touched the case and saw an image of the victim appearing to take her own life. But there was a shadow in the background that indicated someone else was there."

"Which gave him enough that he could start solving it?" Sebastian guessed as he stopped at a stairway landing.
"Enough to consider murder as a possibility when all the physical evidence was pointing to suicide." John waited as he unlocked and opened the door. "And I guess I realised that maybe whatever this is is actually useful for something. So then I played around with it when I went on locum work at St Barts."

"And was I right at all?" Sebastian lingered, closing the door carefully behind them. A thin iron chain laid at the bottom, and it magnetically attached to the door jam on the other side.

"Well, I felt that weird energy when I was there. Sort of painful but like the pain you feel when adrenaline is pumping. I was in A & E, and there was a kid presenting what seemed like an ordinary flu like symptoms. None of her answers, or her mum indicated anything more and I think her mum had brought her in to call her bluff. But when I examined her, it was there, clear as day -- slow building brain aneurysm. Causing the pain behind the eyes, nausea and dizziness, and fluctuation leading to feverish spikes." John said sounding amazed even at the recollection.

He laughed, because that was brilliant. "I knew it! I knew you weren't going to be a wash up, and you could control it..." A rare, rare talent, and Sherlock challenging him had to help.

"Didn't believe it until the scan confirmed it, and felt like my own head might explode, but yeah." He grinned back. "I don't know how to do the healing thing though. "

"That will come in time." It was hard to not grin wildly as he let John wander into his space. "Let's celebrate. I want to hear more good news."

"That's pretty much it, that and realising how often people think about sex," John joked deliberately slipping in next to him.

"Now I'm curious how often I think of sex." And strange jumbled things that might or might not have made sense to John.

"Quite often, but there are images I don't understand mixed up in all of it." He shrugged. "I'm interested in getting a closer look.”

"Which part?" He was smirking as he asked that.

"Any of it. All of it." John said. "If I touch you, and see something will you tell me what the images mean?" John seemed like he was actively trying to get to grips with his new abilities with as much focus as he had avoided it before, which was very good news.

"Of course. Let's get comfortable for this." He was going to snag a couple of glasses and pour the wine, make John sit down. Sebastian was comfortable in the space he had carved out for himself, lush and luxurious as it was, and probably not actually well designed.

John sat close to him, taking a sip of wine. "This is good stuff, you were right." He reached to touch Seb’s free hand and smiled. "Well, at the moment I'm just getting the sensation of luxuriant fur."

"I'm fond of furs." He focused with care, imagining John laid out on his bed, holding the wine glass still, but naked.

John very nearly blushed at that. "You're doing that deliberately aren't you? We'll get to that."

"Very deliberately," Sebastian grinned, only slowly letting go of the thought. "This is the opposite of the, ah, white elephant challenge. Think of something muddy!" Or Irene-ish, that was an option, and he let that jumble of news surface in his consciousness.

"You went to a dominatrix?" John looked startled at that, and why was that the thing that came through of all of the things he had been talking about with Irene.

"She works for me!" He tried to not sound shocked or startled, or even cranky because she was just, no, so many times no. "She's a fae."

John snorted at his reaction. "You really prefer men don't you? That was one step off declaring that girls have cooties. Okay, so something you were discussing. I can see a really good looking guy with messy brown hair, hazel eyes and ...uh, tattoos I think."

"John Sheppard. A wizard, magician. He's... A one of a kind. Not good, no, but not bad. Exorcisms on the fly are his specialties, dealing with demons and fighting evil. I've never seen anyone like him, from someone who didn't believe. American, and their military is apparently forming up a group to fight. His companion in this, one of them..." He thought of McKay, pulled him out of the ether. Different faces, different eras, Italy, books, brilliance, and recently, and the image of a burning footfall.

John flinched. "That's… whoever that is is *bright*. Really bright and something about grey feathers. I can see Sheppard holding a grey feather… big one and smiling and another man too. Blue eyes, dark hair, scottish accent and there's numbers. Sevens, three sevens." He had drifted into an actual zone, Seb could hear it in his voice and he shouldn't be able to do that so soon coming online. It usually required ritual preparation of some description.

"Hey. Don't wander too far yet," he murmured softly, tugging at John's hand with his own. "McKay is an old friend. But that, when the Americans are pulling together what *they* are to ready for whatever they think is going to happen, it's not good."

"Darkness..." John's eyes were unfocused. "The seals are under attack." He didn't seem aware of what he was saying, and there was a strange rumble under his words to Seb's ears at least, like distant thunder. "Should the seal in the Land of the Angels fall, the failure that must be, will be real not a victory."

Fuck. Sebastian repeated the words to himself, trying to engrave it into his memory. The failure that must be, will be real not a victory. In the land of angels. Home, England was his second home, stark windswept places that made him think of his old home.

It also sounded like they were dealing with something on the apocalyptic level. The breaking of Seals was never a good thing and if John's spontaneous warning was right, the land of the angels meant they were dealing with Christian lore. Angels could be feisty bastards sometimes. He didn't like most of them.

And to them he was just a dirty little myth that didn't have the sense to fuck off when his era had ended. He tugged at John's hand again, trying to pull him back.

John blinked a little, and he looked disorientated. "What… was that?"

"That was what a sensitive can tap into," he said with concern, "The undercurrents of things that the rest of us only are half aware of."

"I'm not sure I like that," John shivered. "I prefered the fantasy things. " He rubbed his temple. "Is it useful to you?"
"I've felt a fear," he admitted, "that I can't fucking shake, and I didn't know why. Now I know."

"What does it mean?" he queried, leaning into Seb's side sipping his wine again. It was as if they had been doing this for years.

It was easy, a snap, and Sebastian curled an arm over John's shoulders in ease. "The seals are the seals of the bible. One for each continent."

"Let's just go with the fact that my connection to religion is 'Oh god please don't let me die'" John said.

"That's about mine," Seb murmured, "But belief has a strength of its own that I can't entirely discount. Any belief."

"And perks of occasionally sleeping with the deity you believe in?" John asked. His eyes glazed a bit. "I'll take that as a yes..."

"Not sure what I can promise except good company." And there was a chance that would be daunting from time to time.

"I know." John said. He looked contemplative a moment. "You want me in a way I don't think I recognise."

"I'm going to be arrogant and assume you mean in a good way," he grinned, leaning in to see if he could nudges kiss against John's mouth.

It seemed he certainly could because John would move just to the right place instinctively to be kissed. "Definitely. It feels more than just attraction I think. It feels...possessive, sort of darkly exciting somehow." He shrugged. "Something like that."

"I want you. I want you as mine, my priest." It didn’t translate, didn't have the right connotations when it was just words, when the words no longer meant what they had meant. So he thought it instead -- dark night in his temple, communing with his priest, feeding and giving the man access to deeper energies, combining and sharing, possessive over all. A union and a partnership as much as worship and empty words.

There was a reason the Old Testament had been full of stories of God smiting worshippers who'd dumped Him. Gods really could be jealous gods when one of their anointed were involved.

"Holy crap, priest has a really different meaning in your world doesn't it? Not like going to church here." John's eyes were wide and dark as he processed the information he had gleaned. "I don't remember the Church of England having sex as part of Sunday morning service."

"It's why priests were held in high esteem. They communed with and interfaced with the gods. And were tacticians as well as magicians in their own rights. The stories tell of Priests telling leaders "My God will see this done," and they skip the interesting part where they planned and plotted the battle together with their deity." And then more sex. So much sex, there was a reason a lot of gods ended up with some aspect of sex to their worship. It was simply one of the easiest ways to receive energy.

John grinned a little at that. "Do all the gods who are still around work like this or do they all have different styles? Should I be shopping around?" It was definitely a teasing tone.

It still made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, just a little, even as he leaned his forehead against John's shoulder. "Different styles."

"And your style is...?" John murmured as he turned and nuzzled into his hair. "I can feel possessiveness... control, darkness, a rich erotic sort of darkness which frankly makes me as hard as nails. "

"God of war, death, energy. I could put you thrumming in a state that you've never experienced, make you lose yourself." He exhaled, shifting a hand to ruck up John's shirt, "or maybe you'd push back. You're strong."

"I tend to push, I don't give in for the sake of it," John said and smiled. "I'm interested Seb, very interested in you. Interested in you feeling good because I'll feel that too. Want to try it?"

"Yes. I think you'll find yourself sucked deeper into everything, if we do this." The power he wielded before had been deep, earthy, heady, and different than the sharpness of pain power.

He wasn't sure how a dark sensitive would respond to it, but it had been difficult to have sensitives as priest in the past. His energies were too much for them to tolerate long term on a direct basis.

"I'll risk it," John replied and turned his head to kiss him properly.

"You're amazing." It made his fingers curl, a little reflexive moment of excitement as he let himself relax a little. "I knew you would be."

"I can feel you, fur and muscles," John murmured and moved to nuzzle and mouth at his skin.

"Should I go back to what I was, or is this enough for you?" He leaned back, just a little, just to look at John.

"Whatever you want Seb," John replied meeting his eyes. "I want you feeling comfortable."

"Times have changed." And he was afraid to go all the way back, but he could slip a little, let it settle between his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss John. Nothing to make anatomy challenging, nothing to make it hard or trigger off darker memories, but relaxing helped him.

Almost immediately, he felt a trickle of John's energy. Like a sip of something like a quality aged whisky, smokey and like liquid gold as John kissed back, slow and smooth matching his pace.

"Or maybe times haven't changed at all." Sometimes he thought it was the power of denial, of self denial, that had locked the world down and put an end to so much of the energy that had used to crackle in the air. And why it usually revealed itself now in danger and explosions. He reached for that trickle, a curl of energy that he pulled at with gentle care, kissing the side of John's neck.

John groaned. "I can feel it when you do whatever you just did, all through me." Interesting, most had to be coaxed to feel that, to relish it. Perhaps that was part of the difference.

Things had pulled at John, done things to John, and no one had told him that it wasn't possible to pull back. No one had crowded him in and ruined his skills with preconceived notions about *magic* that kept coming up and cropping people off at the edges, unfairly. He hummed low in his throat, and then signed. "Oh, pull back. Let's see what else you can feel."

John hummed, and he felt something then like a full body tingle and it was like the flat around them faded and there were the sounds of a night jungle around them, the flicker of torchlight and feel of a stone altar beneath them. John had pulled a memory or a fantasy up and wrapped it around them both. That was... ludicrously complicated to do. What had he been taught in that demon's lair?

Or what had he tapped into there to make it firmer, whatever his natural predilections were? Sebastian moved, leaned back, and the side of his arm brushed the sofa, but as he pulled John atop himself, he felt stone against his back. "Oh, that's brilliant."

John looked around. "Where… where are we?" he asked not resisting as Seb pulled him close.

"An old place. A crumbling nothing, now..." He inhaled, breathed in the memory. "Come, let's go to my bed, and see what else you can do. It's big and flat and you're going to keep hitting the side of the sofa in here."

"Sounds like a plan,"John murmured and the illusion faded around them. It was probably a reality created only in their minds but it was great.

It was something amazing, that John could wander that far afield. He clutched at John's hand, and pulled him to his feet. "Bed, and naked, please."

The image had obscured the fact they had been drinking wine. As they got up, the wine glasses went over. "Ooops," John said."Uh, your couch might not recover."

"Paisley exists for a very practical reason," Seb murmured, keeping an arm hooked around John's waist because he could. "Hides things. Beef juice. Chicken pot pie. Wine."

"Well as long as it is used to it," John said as Seb guided him to his bedroom. He had a nice bed bed, a complete opposite to the slim cots they had been on in the forces. John was already stripping off as they got there.

King sized and covered in furs and pillows, warm blankets and a bit of sheeting. Somewhere in there. Under the furs, and Sebastian pulled his shirt off with a bit of glee, watching John.

"If it were anyone else I'd say something about the furs," he said. "But it seems completely right."

"It's less trying to be very sexual and more... " Sebastian chuckled. "Nesting. I used to have this cave, this niche in my temple, stuffed with pelts, and I'd crawl into it like a, a cat in a stupid play tunnel." He grinned, reaching to grab John by the hips. "So warm and safe, and all things I'd killed, mine, mine, and my people were mine and my priest was mine..."

John chuckled and turn his pull into a pounce on top of him."Did your priest say all mine too?" he said.

"Often." And many, and he spread his hands wide over John’s back as he sprawled out. "Oh you feel good."

"Yeah, you feel brilliant. " John seemed to like feeling and touching him, touching all over.

He stretched, welcoming it as he peered up at John, trying to get a trace and a feel of John's power. It was an old thing, feeling with his hands over John's ribs, the seat of a man's power.

"Mmm." His heart pulsed and burned under his hands. Under his exterior there was a power house that would have set gods to wrangling. The greek pantheon had done it often enough that it made their era one giant soap opera. His heritage was a little bit more direct and bloody.

His father would have flipped John over there in the bed, and ripped his chest open, eaten his heart warm and gushing. But the deep pounding of his heart, the feeling of fire beneath his ribs made Sebastian hold him close, a precious thing to be preserved in their weak and dying world. "Miiiine."

"Possessive," John said as they tumbled again. John was far from passive when it came to sex. "Lets see what you do with what is yours."

He laughed, feeling raw delight as he pushed a tendril of energy back at John, raking his hands gently down John's sides, a soft spike of pain. Without a doubt that caused a flair of bright energy that locked onto him, weaving around him again, the edges of old thoughts and fantasies flickering on the edge of awareness. "Choose… I think I'm getting the hang of this."

"There will be a lot of practice," he promised, focusing on a beach on the coast, hot sun and tired soldiers behind him, joyful in victory.

There it was, the images creeping in around him. The sounds of that time and the heady feeling of winning and the need to celebrate fizzing in his blood. "I've been at one of these parties," John murmured still kissing him.

"Only with MOLLE gear instead of beadwork," Sebastian said, kissing back. He could feel the sand against his knees, and looked up, and out, and oh. Oh, that was amazing to see. Even the sky had looked different then and he'd forgotten.

He looked down and to his eyes John was there in the regalia of one of his priests in his arms and everything felt fresh and new again through his eyes. It had been so long. He felt powerful and wonderful and horny as hell.

He gave into it with a growl because he was fresh off a victory -- survival, survival was a victory, he hadn't been taken apart so badly ever before, and they were both alive, and he was scared -- fresh off a victory and John had helped him achieve it, had focused him and worked with him and he wanted to take him, push so hard into him that they became one.

"Yes," John hissed under his breath. "Fuck,Seb, please. I need you." It seemed he was just as ready for it.

He wanted it, and Seb could feel it, even as he threaded another tendril of sensation out to John. "Tell me how much you want it."

“Please Seb. “ It wasn’t so much the words as the feeling of wanting behind it, a wanting so deep it promised him he could do anything he wanted or needed and John would consent joyously.

He groaned, low in his throat, because that was amazing. That was, bone deep, shaking, and yet he was afraid to do that, afraid and half unable to think for himself as he touched John.

"Beg like that, it's gorgeous." He wasn't going to hold off, he was going to fuck John properly, take his time opening him up and then fuck him until he couldn't take it.

"You've gotta know you're driving me crazy like this," John answered tugging at him to get even closer. He hadn't wanted it like this for some time, not so much that he thought he was salivating with the hunger.

Now, now he was kneeling between John's legs and taking a moment to swipe a jar of lube from the nightstand. "You know you want to, please Seb. I've been hard for hours," John murmured.

"Hours?" He grinned, sliding two fingers rough the goo and then behind John's balls to toy with his ass. "Hours. I want you to feel everything."

"I am... not just mine but yours too.." John groaned wriggling a little to try and encourage him. He looked gorgeous and Seb knew he had a bad habit of falling for his priests and John... well John felt special even among his chosen.

John was sharp and cunning and had a soldier's spirit, a soldiers life and a healer's heart, a study in contradictions. He eased two fingers into John's ass, taking his time feeling him.

"Tease." John gasped out. "There I was thinking you'd be more direct...oh fuck, that's..." Good from the noises he was making.

"Want you slick and relaxed." Just then it would feel better for both of them, make it easier to go longer and make it play, fluid.

"Then you need to make me relaxed," John challenged. "I'm pretty keyed up."

He leaned in, and used his other hand to push John down at his chest, kissing at his collarbone to start. How to relax a sensitive - project the feelings at them. He deliberately called up the slow and mellow, long burn of delicious teasing sensation and felt his John's muscles relax under his hands as if he had been given a shot of something.

He could conjure up that sensation of ease, of low burning heat and add to it with touch, like stirring coals. John seemed to melt under his hands, hard muscles dissolving into soft compliance as he touched him, his motions becoming more fluid and looser as he moved against his touch.

"And how does this feel to you?" He scratched a claw gently around one nipple.

"Amazing," he breathed arching into his touch. "Please, more..." So responsive, and wanting.

He wanted it, and Seb could feel it, even as he threaded another tendril of sensation out to John. "Tell me how much you want it."

From the way John moved he was embracing it. "I don't want it, " he said in a low almost growling voice that messed with Seb's libido. "I want *you*. I want all of you, I want you let yourself go and to feel that knowing it was me that did that. I want you to have me and I fucking well want to be the one you will compare everyone else to no matter how long you exist."

He groaned, low in his throat, because that was amazing. That was, bone deep, shaking, and yet he was afraid to do that, afraid and half unable to think for himself as he touched John.

"Now Seb," he clutched at him. "Another victory awaits… the brightness of being alive surrounded by death... fuck me and take the spoils of war."

He exhaled, let it slip a little, and then felt it again, outside of himself as he shifted and shoved John's legs up, feeling himself, really feeling himself. It was a long time since he had done that, and then as he pushed in, energy surged back at him, boiling with power and rawness. Fuck, he wanted to thrust and let loose. He did, slowly, letting it build, a series of hard thrusts that he let himself have, watching and focused on John, John's movements, his responses. He moved with him, urging him along, and the stiffness in his leg melted away in the motions. The world narrowed down to that point between the two of them, the energy wrapping itself around them both.

He let it go, let himself go and thrust harder, fucking John deep and slowly, trying to get inside him, to become one with him. "More, more..."

"Yeah, oh god yeah..." John moved rubbing , touching moulding to his body with every movement, opening himself even more.Everything was disappearing aside from them and their energy. A feast of energy, nourishing and filling.

He was fairly sure he had John cracked in half, ankles on his shoulders as he hammered into him and it still wasn't close enough. He wanted more, he needed more which seemed greedy considering he was feasting better than he had in a long time. John was losing himself in the thrust but there came a moment where his eyes opened wide and locked onto Sebs and it was like a storm between them, rippling thunder and lightning.

And thunder and lightning wasn't him, it was outside of him, and he couldn't, didn't want to look away from John as he reached between them to stroke his dick, to try to drive him to orgasm.

The sound that John made as he came was like a hymn of praise to him, thrumming through his body encouraging him to lose control of his own climax.

When he came it was with an instinctive roar like thunder and the immense amount of raised energy rushed into him as if his orgasm had pulled it in and he felt sated and full, bonelessly languid as he released John and then sprawled half over him.

John tugged him even closer. "Well, I can get used to this. Gonna feel that for a bit." It was like being wrapped up in the familiar from forever ago.

He exhaled, clutching him lazily tight. "You're amazing."

"I have no idea what I'm doing mind," John murmured burying his head into his neck. "Mmm, furry. Am I going to wake up being cleaned or something?"

"You might. I'm more likely to kiss you than lick your head." He nudged against his temple, and exhaled happily. Sebastian couldn't remember the last time he'd let loose to that degree.

"Probably just as well. You know, that's just set the bar. Haven't been able to do anything sex related since, well.." John mumbled, "But feeling pretty safe right now."

"Good. You can trust me." To say John was safe with him was a lie, but to say he wouldn't hurt him, that was different.

"I know." There was a sleepy chuckle. "Not sure if I can trust myself, but you I know about. Besides, I'm looking forward to exploring all those fantasies you have."

"I have a lot of fantasies." He exhaled, and shifted to pull a fur up over them. It was a little oasis in the middle of a world that was going to hell.

“Good.” John murmured and even now the energy just lapped over him, nourishing and gentle. He inhaled widely, and closed his eyes. There might be hope. Just a little.

---

John started making a habit of seeing Seb and always came back the following morning with a broad grin. He had been struggling with these weird new abilities, struggling with the nagging feeling he was losing his mind or at least had let slip some of the control. Weird pains, weird thoughts and all of that creating fear and anxiety, and then on the flip side there was having sex with Seb. It was incredible, transporting, stunning and had completely spoiled him for any 'normal' sex because he instinctively knew he would be hard pushed to find someone so rich in all the darker eroticism that seemed to have become a staple in his own needs. Before, he’d experimented yeah, and enjoyed it but opportunities had been few and far between and he’d never really identified as someone who would bond to that lifestyle or even to a specific role. Sherlock always gave him a lot of snark when he came back as well and he didn't even care anymore.

It was good to be with Seb, thrilling, and he was starting to piece together more and more of the culture. The supernatural had a culture just as much as the military did. It wasn't even that dissimilar in a strange way -- there were hierarchies and factions, internal politics that he picked up snippets about. Seb had said a few things but had kept a light touch on what they were doing, keeping some of his examples as hands on learning.

Sherlock on the other hand would lecture him. It was mostly "how did you survive this long"? rants about his stupidity because those that were Other would See him, pay attention to him and potentially come after him. Except Sebastian had said that they didn't pay attention to people unless they saw them.

If he had been seeing things before being captured, it had been blinks of talent, short and able to be dismissed as aberration caused by exhaustion or the stress of a long shift. Now his sensing ability was online and he was consciously aware of it, he found it difficult to ignore. It wasn't just knowledge he was receiving but ‘knowing’ as well. Utter certainty. A firm, deep understanding of the world around him, the Ultimate in knowing nods as if something all powerful had whispered in his ear. It was no wonder Sensitives had been priests and prophets and had sometimes been worshipped as gods but he shocked even himself with the bits and pieces that were coming through. Still, Sherlock had been gleefully telling him how many of ‘his kind’ had gone insane, or become prey for demons or the Others and apparently the odds did not favour survival in general.
From his point of view, if he was accepting the realness of his experience as definite, he had to get good at this pretty damn quick so he did the mental exercises that Paul had suggested via Seb, and things that Sherlock talked about religiously. He was having a nice cup of tea having finished his mental callisthenics when he sensed Mrs Hudson coming up the stairs.

He shifted, half ready to get the door for her. "John? John, you have a visitor."

Maybe it was Seb. "Is it Colonel Moran Mrs Hudson?" He asked hopefully.

"It'll be my brother," Sherlock called out from where he was lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling.

He could mostly feel Sebastian at a distance, and this one, he couldn't feel at all. "You haven't met him yet, have you?"

"No?" John glanced around.

"Mycroft is delightful," Mrs Hudson said. "I'll send him up shall I?"

"That would be great thank you," John said and hastily picked up some of the rubbish Sherlock had left lying around.

Sherlock snorted, and laid back on the sofa, placing a book over his face. "He's a traditional dhampir. It's very strange for him to be out this early."

"Not as strange as it would be to see you do something productive Sherlock," a cultured voice said from the doorway. John nearly startled, and looked around to see a man who shared Sherlock's height and hints of the same family but Mycroft was older looking. John stood up to greet him, not wanting to be rude. This was Seb's boss, apparently.

Slicked back hair, he was much tidier looking than Sherlock was, tightly wrapped in a suit. "At ease. Sebastian has told me so much about you."

"Uh, thank you I think. He's mentioned a bit about you. " John found himself a bit unnerved. Sherlock was all electric fire and sharp metal feelings but his brother… everything felt cold, glacial and inexorable. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea." He said it sharply, precisely, staring daggers at John. "And you've been bonding with my brother I see."

"Uh well..." John heistated. Sherlock seemed annoyed at him most of the time.

"He is barely tolerable," Sherlock announced as John made the drinks, still watching the other man. Cold… cold and complex crystalline fractals spinning in his mind. It was almost mesmerizing.

And nothing more he could get past the hypnotic whirl of cold complexity. Even Sherlock gave more away than that, and Mycroft smiled at him, like a nun in school, and shook his head. "You're so dramatic. John, have you told my brother about your revelation?"

"Revelation?" John felt wrong footed somehow as he was being studied dispassionately. "No?"

Sherlock sat up rapidly, practically leaping from lying to standing. in a moment. "What? You've learned how to hit an oracular state? Why didn’t you tell me?!"

Possibly because Sebastian hadn't been surprised by it, and had just been gently encouraging. His reaction was easy, guiding, and John didn't react as if it was a huge deal because of that. "Because he's been playing hide the kitty kibble with an old god.”

"Look, I'm new to this, I thought it was something all sensitives can do," John said getting a little defensive. Hiding the kitty kibble? Did he have to make it sound so trivial?

"And you're doing it with ease." He waved a hand at John. "Tell Sherlock what you saw."

"Well, I was sensing some stuff about a Major John Sheppard, Dr Rodney McKay and another man who Seb didn't know immediately," John said, a little uncomfortable. "Then it was... like something went deeper, darker, a shadow of something vast cast over us and I said "The seals are under attack.Should the seal in the Land of the Angels fall, the failure that must be, will be real not a victory." I don't really know what that means."

Mycroft merely lifted his eyebrows at Sherlock. "And I believe you said I was making a mountain out of a molehill?"

"We have potential world changing events all the time," Sherlock dismissed. "Evidently this is running along the same lines."

"Seb said he thought it was something to do with the Christian mythos?" John said. He concentrated his memory a moment, trying to recall what he was seeing. "I just remembered the darkness and crazy eyes. Dark eyes that were sort of fractured, different colors the more you looked at them."

"A Trickster," Sherlock declared, sitting up and looking more interested then. "What else?"

"That's all I remember. It was just a moment," John answered. "I was just trying out my sensing with Seb to see what I was meant to be able to do." Or apparently not know what he shouldn't be able to do.

"You need to do it again," Sherlock said with a sense of urgency.

"With Seb?"John frowned. "I don't really know how to make it happen. I've only just accepted that I have it."

"I'll summon him and we can guide you through it." Which changed the feeling of what he and Seb did, completely.

"I, I don't know if I can do it like that," John said. "I mean it was under private circumstances. It might not work with other people around. Or maybe it could work without him being here."

"Yes, prophets are notoriously finicky." Mycroft seemed to muse that, while Sherlock snorted derisively.

"You've piqued my interest. That will be all, Mycroft."

"I'm not finicky!" John felt offended by that because of all of the people in the room he was the least high maintenance. "I just don't know how it works. I'll try it with one of you guys if you want."

"You focus very intensely on a subject or a person," Mycroft said as he moved nearer John. "Unfortunately, I'm unreadable."

"I've been getting cold and fractal patterns from you when you came in the room. " John answered wondering if that counted as unreadable. "Should I try Sherlock?"

"Yes. Try me, John." Sherlock shifted forward in his seat, fingers tented in front of him.

"Okay. Okay. Right." He needed to be closer he guessed. "I think it's easier if I am touching you or something." He sat himself down next to Sherlock, trying to get himself into a zone.

It didn’t it come easily, not when he could feel the weight of Sherlock's expectation and interest and doubt weighing heavily on him. He had to shift and feel uncomfortable, and it was like sitting in an empty room waiting for someone to arrive. Anticipation. He grimaced a little as memory voices shouted at him to focus and he had to delve into his brain washing training to make contact.

Fire and lightning, the brilliance and darkness of an electric storm, that was Sherlock's thoughts and feelings. He was strange, he felt with his thoughts. Sherlock’s emotions were connected to his mind and he could create a beautiful fragile tissue of thoughts that he wove around his heart. He struggled to get a grip on it, find a connection to him, touching the gossamer strands of gold-woven energy. "I can feel your mind..."

"Yes, and...?" And he wasn't sure, because Sebastian experienced what he was doing and Sherlock didn't seem to.

Maybe that was the difference between a god and an Other-kind. "It's difficult to see. Give me a moment." He tried to block out everything else and slowed his breathing to relax. He closed his eyes and felt a drifting sensation as he had with Seb but it felt shallow as if he was dipping just under the surface. There were the crazy eyes again and they were inextricably linked somehow with Sherlock. They were dancing around each other, their movements so fast… faster than mortals could be but eyes locked on each other. A flash of lightning and he could see the laughing visage of the other man as they danced off of a roof and Sherlock was falling, falling, falling forever taking the other man with him. Another man. Shorter, staring, laughing as behind them as they fell, a cloud with wolfs teeth engulfed the last light in the heavens. Blackness, nothingness and sheer terror as something...something slithered in the void , creeping closer and closer and it would rip everything, destroy everything and there was nowhere, all there was was nowhere and coldness that was sucking the life from everything...

He didn't expect to be slapped. It was sharp and shocking and shook him from that moment of fear and sensation, a horrifying moment that sat tight in his chest.

He couldn't help himself, he felt very sick suddenly, cold, clammy and like he'd run a marathon. His limbs felt like lead and he wasn't so far gone that he didn't recognise shock when he saw it. "What the bloody hell was that?"

"The end. One hypothetical end to us all. A behemoth, a leviathan, if you will." Sherlock seemed excited as he sat back. "Here, have a cup of tea."

He was shaking so much he could barely take a cup and hold it, let alone drink. "Was I talking? Did you hear what was happening? What did I say?" He wanted Seb badly, he wasn't sure why but it felt almost visceral. Like he was meant to find this information for him, not these interlopers.

"Babble, really, about eyes and a laughing wolf." Sherlock seemed intent."What do you remember?"

"I remember seeing. the crazy eyes and you. Like you were linked to them, dancing like a spiral or...something spiraling in and orbit around each other. And you danced right off the roof of a building, and you were falling. " John shuddered because the shock of that, the pain of it shot through him with recollection.. "I saw his face, his eyes look dark, he can hide it well. He's shorter than you, white caucasian, short dark hair , slight build, looks like he is thirties and a smirk even when falling with you. Like that wasn't important but winning was. And behind him there was a storm against the sky, and a wolf shaped cloud seemed to bite down on the light. Everything went black, and then...there was something there. Something, ancient… something Forbidden. And it was coming for me and for everything else sucking life out of everything."

Mycroft was placing a phone call off to one side, and there was a firm impression of icy fractals, that was making John think that was what the man thought in. Inorganic snowflakes. "Ragnarok. It seems so... Obvious."

"It didn't feel certain," John said. "It's weird. But you are part of it Sherlock." He was sure of that.

"In this iteration.” Mycroft said. ” Another week and it might change. Another week and it might be a giant worm swallowing us all whole. Prophecies track the changes of time and time streams change quickly." He seemed so sure of it. "Moran is coming. This is my purview, Sherlock."

John was grateful for that at least.

"Your purview. I'm the one in the vision," Sherlock declared. "Against a Trickster. That's fantastic." He seemed delighted.

"It would of course be ideal if you cooperated, but I'm afraid I need to hand this off to my people, which means you'll be without your assistant..."

"You are not having John," Sherlock said switching immediately to cold anger. "You gave him to me."

"Whoa, whoa, John is standing right here you know," John pointed out.

"We have need of him to forestall the end of the world," Mycroft half-hissed, and there was a hint of fang.

"Which I will be working on with infinitely less politics involved than you brother mine," Sherlock sneered and his eyes seemed to alter as well. "If you didn't need me to be with John you would have kept him yourself."

The elder Holmes smiled tightly. "If you don't work with us brother..." It was odd being fought over, particularly when neither of them was an ex.

"You can try and subcontract me," Sherlock said. "But I thought it suited you if I wasn't because then if I embarrass you, at least you have plausible deniability. It's not like it's not obvious Mycroft."

"Excuse me?" John tried to butt in with little success.

"With, not for. Mind your prepositions, Sherlock." It made his head hurt, and for some reason his cell phone was buzzing.

He glanced down at it as Sherlock was offering "Very well, with" as if he was handing over sovereign territory and answered it automatically. "Hello?"

"John. Mind if I stick my head in? If there's heated negotiations, I'd rather not get in the middle of all the hissing."

Seb. Thank god… literally. "They've reached beyond hissing at this point," he said. "I need help here."

"Coming up." He hung up quickly, never lingered on the phone but he'd at least change the tenor of the room by arriving. Sherlock just sneered.

"What daft thing have you had them doing in the meantime, Mycroft?"

"I have been using my connections to ensure the security of this country. You know as well as I do the emergence of John cannot be a coincidence." John wanted to say it certainly hadn't been planned but for some reason listening to the argument was letting him calm down.

He could step back from it a little. "Emergence! Emergence! I didn't know he fell from the sky whole cloth. Listen to yourself, Mycroft, you're starting to believe this drivel."

"Don't be obtuse Sherlock. You really should feed a little more often, it's clouding your reason," Mycroft answered. "You know full well there was a movement to produce a heyoka sensitive by many authorities. Why? To give the creator dominance? To fulfil a role. To act as an Oracle for the things that would drive a normal sensitive insane? I thought you had started to use your mind but it would seem I am to be disappointed again."

He pulled a face, and John could half hear him mentally running up for a big rant. "Insufferable. He's always been a heyoka sensitive, there's no emergence here -- doctor in a war zone says it all. Normal Sensitives don’t seek out warzones. Have you looked at his family line at all?"

"They are under review. His sibling shows signs of normal sensitive latency," Mycroft dismissed. "A pattern inherited from both parents. It would appear they genetically inherited the ability. However neither of them were ...inverted. "

"This is me you are talking about here," John interrupted having become progressively more irritated by their high-handed discussion. "Look, I never used to be able to do all this. Maybe a few weird feelings but not all this."

"Which is still not an emergence. Your shields were high," Sherlock dismissed again. "By never looking, you were never seen. If you don't flex your muscles around here, no one knows."

"The conditioning he was put under clearly was designed to force an inversion," Mycroft said and his eyes were garnet red now, presumably with irritation. "Whether he was natural or not, the process worked. They were training him to a purpose."

"A heyoka sensitive 's damage has historically been immense in the few recorded cases."

He might as well have been sitting in the middle of the room naked. As it was, he started to stand up to get a cup of tea, when the main door opened. Thank God, it was like a rescue arriving as Seb stepped across the threshold.

"Will someone just tell me what that means?" John asked feeling exasperated. "You all keep going on about it, and I have no bloody clue what is normal and what is not."

"It means they're wanking on about things they're only familiar with philosophically. A true heyoka is more of a god, from my experience." Seb smiled at him, touching his elbow lightly.

He relaxed immediately. It was like a tension resolved itself in that single touch. "Well that proves I'm not then."

"Whatever you are, you are part of an overall plan," Mycroft said.

"I was going to say that it's more proof that you might be," he smiled. "What Dhampir fight am I interrupting now?"

"My brother as ever believes he has the answer to everything," Sherlock replied his tone ripe with disdain. "And likes to insinuate stupidity to bolster his own fragile ego. Considering we have just witnessed John hit an oracular state..."

"Not a prophecy," Mycroft stated. "A possibility , not a certainty."

"He prophesied with me." Sebastian was calm, level-voiced, and moved away to peek into the kitchen. "His voice changed. Always a sign."

"Yes. Referring to events already underway, " Mycroft said. "Prophecy is easier under those circumstances. I have done research, it would appear there is a concerted effort to break the Seals. We all know the end result of that."

"Uh no? We don't all know that."

Seb exhaled in a puff of air. "Uh, protestant or catholic?"

"Old testament," Mycroft said. "This is dealing with the celestial wars. The battle for dominance between angels and demons. They seek to release Lucifer."

"I was going to make a joke about roasted on spits or disappearing into the sky. Now you blew away my setup," Seb sighed. "But Lucifer's free."

"One of the many faces of the demon perhaps," Mycroft mused. “You of all people should understand how one can be many.”

"Look, if whatever happened was a vision, it didn't feel like a demon. Not like the other demon, " John interrupted.

"Samael's not a face, he is..." Sebastian inhaled. "He's the one most often written about in those books of yours. There are other things down there, people fighting for the mantel now." It felt like he'd been touched or met them, were they really talking about *Lucifer*?

John felt uncomfortable. It didn't feel right somehow. "No, no, I don't know what they are doing, or hope to achieve but what this is about is...wrong."

"Our conversation right now?" Sebastian murmured, stopping and focusing.

"Yes!..no," John tried to focus. "I can't explain it. Can you see what I've seen? It is beyond Other. Horrifying, terrifying, insanity embodied." He started feeling nauseous at the thought of it.

"Yes." He pulled at John's elbow, gentle, easy, moving him to the sofa. To sit on the sofa. "Let's just sit down."

"Sebastian is a prime example of what I said earlier about not being seen if you don't do anything."

As Seb sat next to him it was if the weird strange impulse to share what he had seen crested and broke in him as he grabbed hold of his hand. The images poured out as vivid and terrifying as before, the end darkness and it's mysterious slithering in the void itself threatening his sanity just with it's memory. But Seb was there, Seb was his for all he said he was the possessive one. Seb would know what this was or had the perspective to talk about it without wanting to throw up.

"Huh." Just huh, and a soft faint memory in return of heat, and light, shimmering dark brilliance driving back a creature of sensations that left his mind crawling. It made him think of cockroaches, synovial fluid, eyelashes, and dust, and he didn't know why.

John shuddered, grateful for that level of protection because that's what it felt like to him. "I, do you see what I mean? It's not like the thing in Afghanistan"

"Yes. It's ancient. Before the first, before this creation. We've, my father, I... I'm not sure. I remember this." He repeated the memory of shimmering bright darkness pushing back that feeling that reached beyond evil.

John frowned aware Sherlock and Mycroft were studying them both. "I feel something shimmering and dark and a pushing away, pushing back." It didn't seem enough, so he took Seb's hand tighter, and interlaced his fingers, focusing on that memory.

Jaguar eyes, something vast in the forest of stars. Incursion, territory and behind the Night Sun, the force of belief of an empire, a commander a leader of the divine blood. They would be unstoppable. Until they weren't... a thread of horror as the golden jaguars of the honour guard were devoured and destroyed by the slithering skittering darkness and the truth was there. This was no mere challenge. This was a god slayer.

John found himself nearly choking, as his nose started to bleed, his head ballooning with sudden pain as he pierced through to a deeper level of information that Seb had repressed even from himself.

He felt Sebastian standing from his watch point, felt him not shirking but angry, felt him not reacting to the skittering awareness that was out there, but enraged at the blood spilled and lost and thinking ten steps forward, to the city the capital being overwhelmed and buildings on fire. And still they fell, fell and disappeared under the onslaught, pulled in. He felt a pooling of power, and almost a resonance as the Night Sun pushed back against the tide.

It wasn't Sebastian then who was the focus, no it was his father the Smoking Mirror himself, doing battle, spending the power of ages, burning divine power to turn it all until He was wounded and weakened by the Outsider. He fought, watching his father's back, keeping him clear until he could do what needed to be done.

But it was bright and clear and hot, and the feeling of legs on his skin recessed, deep into a split in the earth, something beneath it, a gateway, and Sebastian clambered close, throwing power after it as he rallied what forces were left. It hadn't been an army, just one. One... Something, multitudinous, and he was half aware of Sebastian's hand in his hair. And the Smoking Mirror was upright, still, victorious and devastated at the same time, his obsidian bone leg fracturing under his own weight, shape shifting fluidly to settle on something sustainable, and Sebastian's resonance felt like a sucking wound then, putty against a vacuum.

Almost panicked, he couldn't help but instinctively wrap his energy around Seb, even though this was a memory, anchoring him, pulling him to him as if he could take the place of thousands of worshippers. Seb was his, a demi-god following the grand tradition of heroism to deification.

"Come back to me." Fingers carding in his hair, and Sebastian walking toward his father, weakening with every step. "That's done and over, John. It was. Come back to me." Run down, sucked low, and John didn't know when it had happened, couldn't tell, but he had felt other demigods dying, sucked dry by the Smoking Mirror pulling threads away from his kin to take it all back. And Sebastian had shared willingly, sacrificed willingly against... He didn't know. And Sebastian was still alive.

He hazily came back and he felt like shit. His head hurt, he felt like he was going to throw up and he had chills and hot surges through his body. "Crap, I feel like shit."

"I'm not sure mortals should ever see that," Sebastian murmured, still unraveling his head. "It's been so long."

"Well assuming Sebastian's narration was accurate it explains the fall of the Aztec. One of their major poles of power was severely damaged during that incursion," Mycroft said. "An Outsider. Not even the demons should be so foolish."

John tried to relax, his head thumping. "Wouldn't bet on that."

"Before. Before us, before creation," Sebastian repeated, stressed, and he curled against John, holding him close, nevermind the Holmes brothers standing and watching. "We survived it."

"But it destroyed gods," John said. "Killed them, absorbed them, did something. That bothers me a great deal."

"More to the point, a major deity, with profound elemental power was basically decimated pushing one back. If that should happen now?" Sherlock said.

And Sebastian's line had a unique factor to it, and his father had used it - pulled the rug out from under all gods in his own lineage and used their power to fuel his own fight. He'd fought with more than his own energy, and it still hadn't been enough. "We'd fight. We'd, this threatens all of us, fae to human, to what's left of my kind."

John was considering a moment, trying to think through the thumping headache. "So, breaking a Seal is something the demons are trying to do and if they succeed with this particular one, it could blow up in everyone's faces? That I can figure.. .but how, where and when are they going after this Seal?"

“That, unfortunately, is the mystery.” Mycroft's lips pursed tightly, and he looked at John with a particularly tense expression above the eyes. “The sooner we know that the sooner we can stop them.”

"I can't do any more now unless you want me throwing up my boots," John said. "I've got a migraine brewing now. Plus, I guess I would need someone closer, or with more direct contact to get any more. I think I'm only getting something due to the past and future links we have with the situation."

"I meant more for my brother to work the mystery through his usual means," he said firmly.

Mycroft inclined his head. "Of course we will. However, I believe you two should explore your bond. It is clear that John is a conduit and that should be enhanced."

Sebastian shifted his hands lower, looping around John's waist, still close. "John's dug things out of my memory that hardly feel real anymore, they were so long ago."

"I am talking about his other abilities," Mycroft said a little delicately and John frowned.

"What? Healing?" John asked. What else could it be?

Sebastian sighed, pressing fingers against the fabric of John's sweater. "You ever feel so unbelievably stupid around these two? I mean, just bloody dumb?"

"That's because you are," Sherlock contributed. "Really it is obvious. John manages to transform and channel darker energies. He was conditioned to do so." John stared a moment. He was not going to remember that deliberately, especially not now.

"I can work on that with him. Are you sure I'm smart enough to do it?" Sebastian smirked.

"I have doubts, but I suppose the only other option is myself." Sherlock quipped back.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," John cut in . "But if it will help."

"Finding places to put you in contact with dark energy," Seb half explained.

"And what is dark energy?" John queried, wondering where this was giving. "Are we talking about the pain energy?"

"It can be. Usually intentional..." Sebastian cleared his throat. "So it used to be a place like gladiator games would be perfect, or bullfighting, or boxing, or..."

"Something primal. " Mycroft said. "Energy is a raw power source but let us say that a consciousness acts as a means of tuning the energy to a certain frequency. The easily accessible primal energies of pain, fear, sex, death, anger and so on are...how to put it? Usually like a radio wave so powerful it shakes the radio apart. Gods can feed from it usually if the energy is 'prepared' as it were by ritual, or a conduit."

"And the ritualization of it is what makes it primal, a group. So, sex clubs, too." Sebastian cleared his throat.

"Oh." John cleared his throat as well and looked at Seb, amusement warring with embarrassment. "Well, that's tomorrow sorted out then." Even to himself, his voice sounded a little hysterical.

Sebastian laughed, a quiet chuckle. "How about we go back to my place and unwind a bit after that, and these two can keep mouthing off?"

“Sounds like a plan. My head aches, and Sherlock is likely to be ignoring me for the rest of the day.”

Sebastian shifted, dragged John off the sofa slowly. He felt jet lagged, slogged down under it all. "Thanks, Mycroft. We'll work on it."

"I will make appropriate arrangements," Mycroft said. "Sherlock and I have much to discuss."

John assumed the subject of the discussion would be him. "Let's go, before I have to see something else.”

"Or hear it." Sebastian cocked an eyebrow at him, and continued to pull at him.

He followed, grateful to be leaving to go somewhere more comfortable. Seb's place was rapidly becoming a point of sanctuary for him and he was happy to get across the road to the other side of Baker Street and then get up to Seb's flat.

The more he was in Sebastian's place the more his eyes wandered to strange items on the shelves, the books, and the decorations that spoke to Sebastian having lived there for a very long time. Sebastian shrugged his coat off and hung it just inside the door. "I was out shaking down a goblin when Mycroft texted me."

"A goblin?" John asked immediately going to what he seemed to have settled on as 'his spot' on the sofa. "There are goblins?"

"Yes. Everything exists. Every whisper is based on reality." He stretched, pausing to take off his shoes before padding over to John. "I'm sorry you saw that."

"I don't think Sherlock realises what it feels like. It's not just seeing. It was the feeling of it, they were the horrific part." John murmured. It was strange how much he was aware of Seb he was now. He remembered wrapping his energy around him instinctively in the vision...was that something normal? Did 'priests' do that? He thought that logically it should be the other way around.

But maybe logic had no place here. After all Seb had just been having a conversation with goblins. "I remember we thought the world was going to end."

"It really was going to, but you… he stopped it." John frowned. "Your father? Is that why he never consumed you? Because you guarded his back then?" Maybe Seb had never given that a thought.

Sebastian looked vaguely conflicted as he sprawled only his spot on the sofa. "I thought he saw it as a sign of weakness, that I did that. I could've struck him down afterward, he was so weakened. We all were, but..." But there was reverence in his tone. "I left after that. There wasn't enough to sustain both of us, and I survived well with soldiers."

"And he let you go." John was sure there had been something to the possibility that perhaps his father felt he owed him a debt. "So what was the thing? I just the impression of something… Outsider. And I’m not even sure what that means."

"Outside of creation." Seb licked his bottom lip. "Which is a chilling concept."

A very chilling concept. John nearly startled as there was a knock at the door. "Beyond. Yeah, I try to not think about it."

Seb flashed a grin as he stood up. "I did tell Paul he might be needed to break up the Holmes brothers, so he's probably been deflected over here."

John was a little disappointed but Paul had helped to rescue him. He watched as Seb opened the door, and Paul essentially let himself in. "I see you've been stirring up a hornets nest of Holmes,'" Paul said as he wandered in, making for the fridge.

Seb looked amused. "They stirred themselves up. Using John."

"Never known a sensitive come online this rapidly. So give me a sitrep." Paul had helped himself to beer from the fridge, offering one to John who decided he might as well have something to blame his headache on. He tossed one at Seb without even asking.

And Seb caught it with smooth reflexes. "Exploring old memories again. Back, back in time, when an Outsider tried to come through. The Demons are trying to bring one through again."

Paul paused. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

"It's something to do with a broken Seal," John put in. "It seemed to imply, well there was weird stuff in the visions."

"Probably a bit symbolic. Visions do that, they use the same button as dreams do so have to talk in a dream like language."

"I'm useless to you there," Seb admitted, a little sullen. "I don't dream. So Paul might be able to talk you through it better than I can."

"And that is why they need humans," Paul said with a shrug handing over the beer and sitting down. "Okay, I'm ready for some vision interpretation. Hit me."

John recounted the vision with as much detail as he could, the initial one at least; the fractured rainbow eyes, the storm cloud wolf, and Sherlock and the other man and terrifying things in the darkness. He shuddered just recalling it.

Paul just listened, unusually still as he spoke, focused on him with and intensity that made him uncomfortable.

"So? What do you think?" he asked.

"Give me a moment," Paul said.

Sebastian took a sip of his beer, and leaned back on the sofa, reaching to absently rub at John's shoulder. "I take a more literal tact."

"Yeah, well for a god, you are not good at symbol interpretation. Mages on the other hand have to be," Paul said.

"So what does it tell you?" John said.

"Aside from the obvious, it tells me.. our seal breaker is a trickster scion, and one of Loki's get," Paul said. "The Wolf eating the sun? Fenris wolf, of Ragnarok was the offspring of Loki."

"And part of the end of the world." Sebastian rubbed at the edge of his jaw for a moment. "So, a trickster and a Heyoka, and a Dhampir..."

"...walk into a bar.." Paul drawled and drank his beer looking at John. "Hmm. So the trickster was attracted to Holmes. Anyway, the second part. That is where it gets interesting."

"How so?" John asked. "It was a nothingness?"

"That tell me something." Paul answered. "Seb, do you remember what tried to come through before? More importantly do you remember anything about the rituals your priests did at the time?"

"Yes." Sebastian looked distant for a moment. "They worked to give us strength, and they helped fortify the city. It was a... It was Other. It was crawling, like clouds of spiders, or..." Sebastian inhaled, and took a sip of beer. "We poured power at it, conventionally. We beat it back with strength, and fire."

“Hmm, Cthullu mythos. Lovecraft really should have got himself more grounded before rubbing up against the Other side.” Paul looked at John again. “Did you say you were in the nothingness?

“Yes, it was very unpleasant,” John admitted. It still made his skin crawl.

“Interesting. I wonder if that is a vision or a symbol. Sensitives are openers of doorways and portals but… What could a heyoka sensitive do?”

"Cross over, close doors." Sebastian tilted his head. "Everything a normal sensitive can do and more."

John shook his head."No idea what you are talking about," he admitted."I don't understand the images, but the feelings are clear. It's really bad."

Seb rubbed at his temple, and sighed. "I don't know -- I'm not good at interpreting. If you felt, touched an outsider, it's..." He took another swig of his beer. "It's really bad."

"Understatement," Paul said. "The last attempt at a breach ended up with a nuclear bomb being detonated in a so called underground test." He contemplated."A whole town went insane just from the psychic shockwave, and I don't mean mental breakdown, I mean tear their own eyes out insane and intense urge to suicide. It was over in China not long after the war. They lost one of the greatest warrior mages in history trying to shut that down."

"So the breaking of the seal is about the Apocalypse, but this is somehow worse than that?" John just couldn't see it. The Apocalypse was the end of the world, and what could be worse than that.

"Hell yeah. Apocalypses come and go, the world survives even if people die. We have an inflated opinion of our importance to the world. But if there is a threat of an Outsider, you'll see forces mustering all over the place regardless of background to combat it." Paul took a long swig of the beer looking grim.

"Because that's what it takes. What happened to our empire... We were civilization at the time. Home was cosmopolitan lavish, creative, the works of engineering alone..." He said waved a hand from side to side. "It came up out of the ground and just ate. And the feeling of it... You'll have people ripping parts of themselves off just, just because. It left me feeling cold, sick, but not mad."

"Because you're a godling," Paul said."There's a certain immunity to their affect. Demons are bad enough but they are part of our realm."

"I remember the demon, it didn't feel like this thing, but I don't know much about it." John put in, acutely aware of his shortcomings at what could be vital.

They were facing worse than the end of the world, and he wasn't able to pass on the nuances of something that could very well destroy them all. It left him feeling strained, even as Paul watched and looked thoughtful. "We need to start talking to people who've faced it."

"An Outsider? One of the Elder gods? You won't find many alive from the human realm," Paul said shaking his head."They go insane."

John considered."But you said the gods don't so.." John looked at Seb. "What about your Father? I mean if you saved his life .existence or whatever... He does owe you doesn't he?"

"Technically. But I was there and I don't really recall what we did. We fought hard, with spells and power in fists and arrows and spears and swords. We did everything. If it had been current era we would've been throwing refrigerators at it. It was desperate. Unless you want to talk to an old man about what desperation feels like." He finished the beer and set it aside. "We can."

"Mycroft and Sherlock will want to track down the trickster-kin," Paul said."He's the key to preventing this from becoming and issue. Stop him and the seal won't break but we need a contingency plan."

"A bad plan." Still, Seb got to his feet. "When?"

"Give me a location, I'll get us there," Paul said."Tomorrow maybe? We can't afford to fuck this up." It seemed incredible to John that they were taking the things he had seen in his head so seriously.

"Tomorrow. It's out in the moors. Naturally." Free land to roam and hunt, at least a little. He could still have to see Sebastian with the bit of pigeon blood on his face, and wondered if his father would do the same with ducks.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?" John queried. Seb talked about his father in a strange way to his ear. Half the time it sounded as if they had not long spoken, and the other half as if they had not spoken for literally ages.

"Hmn, it was..." He squinted at Paul, as if he were the trigger for the memory. "Right after you joined us."

"Oh didn't know you went off then," Paul admitted."But I was younger then. And possibly unconscious. I did that a long time ago."

"I was having a perfectly good conversation with him and he keeled out on me once. Explain how that worked, Paul."

Paul snorted."I would frequently think I had unlimited reserves of magic. Battle mages tend to get wound up in the adrenalin. And we do build up a much bigger reserve that those magic users who just do ritual magic....or a different type maybe. Anyway, on that occasion, I'd taken it nearly to my upper limit and congratulated myself on figuring out where the line was and then Seb asked for a light and I automatically summoned a mini flame without thinking and face planted into my dinner."

John smiled. It was pretty heartening to see that Paul was not as perfect as he seemed to be."How do you know when you are near your limit?"

"Age and experience," Seb teased. "Maybe? Getting another beer, you want some?"

"Sure," John said and Paul shook his head."I'm going to leave you two to do whatever you were going to do."

He got up looking at them both for a bit and smiled."You've got yourself a good solid bond going on there. You'd think it was decades old."

Seb smiled a bit, a slow, genuine smile. "Luck, I think, but yeah. Best kidnapping I've ever been in." John felt his smile go a little strained, simply because he knew it was unhealthy but he just tried to ignore memories of those three months. He didn't want to think hard in case it made it through the block.

"Well that’s something. Right see you tomorrow. I'll text the arrangements," Paul said as he went to the door."Now to go and interrupt Mycroft and Sherlock.”

He let himself out and John relaxed a bit. Sebastian relaxed a little, too, as if he'd been feeling John's tension. "It's been very rough."

"Bit of an understatement," he answered and leaned in to Seb again. The relief was like a shot of something in the arm. He'd never reacted so strongly to anyone.

Maybe it was flattery to imagine that it went both ways, but Sebastian seem to palpably unwind as he abandoned his empty beer bottle and sat back down beside John in comfort. "I don't think about these things. There are things that are painful and I don't touch them often, because gods shouldn't fear, or be sad. And to even touch the reflection of these things... You are so strong."

"I don't feel it," John replied."Not in those visions, I felt weak. I want to be strong enough to do whatever it is pointing at. Some of the vision felt different. Real."

Sebastian's hand wandered up to the shoulder touching it loosely, comfortably. "Well prophetic visions are a reality. If it doesn't come true, it will be because we intervened."

The darkness, him in the darkness could be real? His brain hurt just recalling it."So things can be changed?" He didn't want the end of the world on his conscience.

"Frequently. And sometimes what you see doesn't mean what you think. Sometimes it is esoteric like Paul was saying and sometimes it is what it is. A born prophet can finesse the difference - most born prophets are killed for witchcraft very early in their lives so..."

"Well thank god that didn't happen to me," John said. He became aware that he had somehow gone from leaning to snuggling."Er, you were going to tell me more about this connection thing of ours?"

"Mmm, trying to find a way to explain it that doesn't sound parasitic." He chuckled, and moved his other hand to pet at John's hip, very relaxed.

"It feels a bit like falling in love." John also blushed a that.

"I think it's that, too. I enjoy your company, and our magics are... Compatible." He shifted, nudged a kiss against the side of John's neck. "But if we didn't want each other, this wouldn't work."

"Why was it I felt uncomfortable with the visions until you were there?" John asked feeling a spreading warmth over his skin of faint embarrassment.

"Because I'm your God." Sebastian said it sheepishly, almost, as if it puzzled him. "It's been a long time since that happened."

"I thought you were a leader of soldiers, isn't that the same thing?" John said thinking about that. Should he be doing something if Seb was his god?

"Says a lot about our forces. It was enough to keep me alive, but a priest allows me to pick up a lot more energy. It's the difference between hot meals and living off of granola. And you benefit from it, you grow stronger and more grounded."

"Well should I be..doing something?" John asked . “You know, if you are my god does that mean I have to do priestly things?"

"Lots of priestly things. Take meals with me, listen to me bitch and moan after a bad loss... And scented oils. About the only thing I ever went for."

John chuckled, feeling oddly relieved."So it is pretty much like being in a relationship. Are we going to have weird special powers or something?”

"Yeah, and that's what the Holmes were trying to get me to work on with you. It's a bond -- you'll be able to reach out to me eventually, and the other way around."

"Oh, okay..." John nodded slightly. He'd never been that successful with relationships. They were either too boring or just short term. But he wasn't sure why but he felt like he wanted to protect Seb, which was crazy. He was the god, demi-god … whatever."Are feelings of protectiveness normal?"

"Yes. Very normal. You're my priest, you defend the faith and back before the structure became what it is now, you protected me. Priests are tacticians, they're..." He shifted his fingers, holding John for a moment.

A jumble of complex images drifted into his mind."The ultimate XO's with benefits," John said translating it into a role he knew and understood.

"Yes. It's partnership, not servitude." And there was a faint suggestion of 'if you survived', clear as a ringing bell but so soft so faint, unbidden, as Sebastian shifted and started to toe off his shoes.

"I could probably deal with that as long as you don't decide you want to sacrifice me or something," John said in response to that voice.

"Never." Sebastian sounded half startled, and leaned back to look at him.

"You mean you never did in the past?" John asked."I thought you said something about there being sacrifices and orgies and so on."

"But not my priest. That's like sawing a leg off," he said, still in a faintly horrified tone. "Kings, sure, enemies, but not *mine*."

John felt a tension leave him that he hadn't realised he had held up unless then. For some reason there was a part of his mind linking it with being sacrificed. He unconsciously looked down at the thin scars on his arms and knew the brainwashing had taken a very different approach..

"What you did when we were fighting that creature was... Creative and an emergency. I didn't expect that, you just knew to do it."

So the choice was his."I think I had been taught to do it," John admitted."I keep not thinking about what happened then."

"It might or might not be for the best. I don't know. We didn't do therapy back in my time." He pulled a wry smile. "We could've used it."

"More than likely. You'd think being able to sense things would mean I would be aware of feelings a bit more," John said. He yawned as weariness crept up on him after all the usage of his new abilities.

"That was exhausting," Seb admitted. "C'mon, let's go to bed. And maybe after tomorrow's trauma I can introduce you and Sherlock to my side of Holmes' empire."

"Sounds like fun," John said all too ready to sleep off the after effects of having several deeper visions one after another.

Sebastian half manhandled him to his feet. "C'mon. Just to sleep. You'll enjoy meeting a real fae."

John just nodded allowing himself to be guided to Seb's now familiar bed. He half regretted not having the energy to do more than just rest but he'd make it up to Seb tomorrow morning when he had a bit of energy.

---

He needed to get a bigger car. A much bigger car, even if Paul was sprawled in the back seat like a king while he drove, and they shared old stories as if the sheer volume of information would push knowledge to John.

John might not be thinking he was adapting quickly, but the truth was, Seb couldn't remember the last time he had met a Sensitive of any type that just ...got on with it like John did. Yes, there had been the spirited attempt at denial in the hospital, but he was pretty sure a lot of that was due to him not wanting to remember anything. But considering it hadn’t been very long at all, John was there up to his neck and rolling with the proverbial punches. Currently Paul was telling embarrassing stories about some of their Ops together. He liked Paul, well more than liked but they had never made the sort of connection that he had with John. The thought of taking him as a priest was strangely laughable but he wasn’t sure why. An allie, definitely - he was rock solid but warrior mages tended to be a bit solitary in general.

"..and then Seb jumped the roof tops, and nearly missed so started half turning, as he hit the wall, but then he realised if he turned all the way the jaguar would be heavier, so there he is, clinging to a sheer wall like a kitten to a curtain." Paul said with a chuckle.

"No, the worst part was that I got a claw caught in a piece of broken masonry and couldn't get my hand free while I was trying to claw my way up. I felt so bloody stupid, and Paul just made it to the other side just fine."

"Natural agility," Paul quipped. "And channeled energy. The chinese traditions hold elements of that."

"So you can do all that stuff you see in the movies?" John asked.

"Some of it. When you're younger, the energy is… a bit wild. I can actually do it with more finesse now, more energy efficient," Paul said."But the novelty of leaping everywhere wears off the first time you leap dramatically over an enemies nullifying cast and do a cartoon Wile E Coyote."

"That's also a great visual," Sebastian grinned, glancing up along the half familiar road. It'd been a while. "Most of the time, we do nothing cool looking or interesting."

"You've done some pretty visual stuff since I've known you," John pointed out.

"I can go weeks without doing any spell casting," Paul said. “Months sometimes.”

"I haven't done any great feats of power in so many hundreds of years that the entire community just thinks I'm a were-jaguar. I used to be able to make the earth shake and crumble beneath an army. Paul on the other hand can throw fire. And a bunch of other impressive shit that has saved all of us more than once." He took a turn onto a slightly rougher gravel road, seeing the house ahead of them. "It's looking rundown..."

"It looks like a shithole," Paul said frowning. "Would have thought your father would have more mojo than this. He still gets pulled out in occult novels and video games for a pastime. There should be enough general belief in him to keep him in a godly manor."

"Is this definitely the place?" John asked."It feels empty."

They hadn't even parked the car yet, and John thought it felt empty. That was an amazing pool of power... "Could be an illusion." He parked a bit outside of the buildings reach, feeling a pull.

"Well, I guess Tezcatlipoca could definitely pull off an illusion that detailed as it is his thing." Paul commented."Would mean he's not happy about visitors though."

"Never was. If you want to see you he would find you. I learned if he wasn't looking for me I did not seek him out." He turned the engine off and hesitated in opening the driver side door to get out. No, it was a bad idea on so many levels, and yet if they were going to face an elder God…

John hesitated."Wouldn't he know about the incursion though?" He seemed reluctant to get further than out of the door of the car.

"Yes. And he'd know more about how it started because I came out from the fringes of the empire to help. I wasn't there when it all started." Sebastian glanced, waited for Paul to get out as well. "If he kills us, it was nice knowing you."

"I'm not letting your father snack on my heart," Paul said."I've got a few tricks up my sleeves." He looked grim and Seb could feel a shift in the man's aura, enough that John squinted when he glanced at him even though there was no visible light.

"It'll be fine," John said shaking off whatever was bothering him."He owes Seb."

"I'm not sure darker gods like us respect that sort of idea," Seb half laughed. "I was always too fond of you all for his liking. Soft.” He stepped away from the car after taking a breath, resolved to just get it over with.

The truth was, the place wasn't his father's usual taste. It was a bit odd, even he had to admit that, but for all he knew it could be palatial inside. He headed up to the door and knocked listening for a response.

Maybe he'd gotten weird in his dotage. Weirder. Sebastian tried the door, and then started to search for a hide away key, a loose brick. "This is not good…”

"I can open it if there is no key," Paul said flexing his fingers.

"There's a sort of prickling feeling," John said."Is that a...ward? Is that what you called it?"

"Huh." Sebastian reached against the ward. It felt solid, easy enough to destroy, he just needed to know what the vibration of it was and then push. It felt familiar, though, touches of familiar power. "Take the door off and I'll, here, John, feel this when I do this. I know this is something you can do, too."

"Okay, so I have to just hold my hand to the ward?" he said holding his hand out."What should I do?"

He pressed his hand against it as well, glancing at John and taking this moment for learning. He had the stance, everything right. "It's like breaking glass. You just have to push at a vibration that it doesn't like, right Paul? So press against it, feel the tempo of the ward, the pulse, and then push right through it..." Sebastian took a moment to do as he was saying, breathing in easy relaxed breaths, and feeling it before he shoved hard.

"Right, oh, yeah it's like pushing against something elastic." John said concentrating. "It feels like it's… purring. Is that you?"

He laughed, pushing harder to break it down. "That's me, trying to, damn, just take this down..."

"WhAt if I do this..?" John asked and touched him and it was like a jolt of power.

"Oh, there it goes," Paul commented."Guess you inherited your wards from dear old dad Seb. It's similar in construction to the one you helped me put up in Alaska."

"It's the type of magic we know. It's less words and more a force of structure, will. It's..." Sebastian stood up, and pushed at the door, which was thoroughly broken now. "There we go."

Paul held up a hand and cast a muttered scrying spell through the door that Seb knew from experience would highlight traps. Sensible when visiting family, at least his. "Clear," he said shortly allowing him to go inside. It looked derelict as he entered.

Derelict and completely empty, and he felt his heart sink the closer he walked into the main room. And then he saw him, arms crossed over his chest, one bone leg, slower to the old days in a way that made him feel uncomfortable, that made him feel raw. "Not how I expected to see you."

"Circumstances turn on us all son," his father replied."And I have weathered the end of the world four times, I know what I'm doing." His father’s eyes were black as obsidian, and swirled under the surface like the Smoking Mirror that had become his name."I suppose you are here about that are you?"

"Er Seb?" Paul's voice interrupted.

"Quiet your friend or I will take him," his father said pleasantly."I could use a heart."

"He doesn't want to talk to you." Seb inclined his head, looking back over his shoulder. "Let's all do this calm. Yes, we want to know more about what happened. I don't, my memory isn't that good."

Tezcatlipoca stared at him."Why dwell on the past when it is the future that should trouble you? Though I see you have a priest now, a chosen one." He sniffed the air in a way that made Seb feel uncomfortable."I want him. I think I shall have him."

"I don't think you will." It stiffened his resolve as he took a step forward, closer to his father. "We need you to tell us how the old one got through."

"If you had worked on your abilities you would be able to scry it yourself," his father said."They corrupted a ritual. Now the White God from the West blasphemes and calls it the Ritual of the Angels, but it was corrupted, tainted, the stones defiled. Names are shadows, smoke, but the stones are corrupt. Two would be enough.”

"Seb, seriously, can you hear me?" John's voice seemed distant

He knew what it was, but he didn't, like a foreign language he couldn't translate. "Two stones?"

"One seal in the darkness, one seal on high," his father said."Two of the stones. Find the three sided stone and the mighty stone column. The Place and the object. Join them and the corruption awakes."

"Seb!" John seemed to be shouting from a long way away."Fuck it..." There was a sudden grasping pressure on his arm. "Seb do you hear me now?"

"Three sided stone and the mighty stone column, the place and the object." He repeated it, but it wasn't clicking, it wasn't, and he hoped John was getting this, at the same time he didn't want to defer to John with his father present. "I don't, the henges?"

"Seb, you're talking to no one and you are bleeding from the eyes," John said.

"You are naturally drawn to it. It calls you, the darkness beyond. It stole a part of you in that battle, my loyal brave one and when I banished it, it took some of you with it."

"I don't..." He didn't remember that at all, the creature doing that to him, doing anything to him, but he felt weak, dry and struggling to stay on his feet, and he felt a shift in his body, unwilling as it came over him. "I don't want it back? Everything's been good..."

"Good? Good? You were the Heart of the Mountain, my Tepeyollotl, you were the Jaguar. When you were birthed it was in the first destruction of the world! That strength, that might to tear down the pillars of heaven, there is a sweetness and intoxication."

"Enough!" There was a blaze of light in his vision."Seb, he is sucking you dry. I am your anchor, your priest. I call you...shit I hope this works Paul, you better be right about this - I pray to you beloved one, hear my plea, answer the call of your faithful servant..."

It was as if a choking mist was lifting suddenly.

A clearing seemed to show itself, and he managed to turn just a little, stumbling and closing his eyes, but holding onto John as he tried to pull his form back together, to get back to himself and to make things hurt less. His legs felt like they were on fire and that needed to stop. "We need to leave."

"No fucking kidding," Paul muttered and he felt the other man grab him and then attempt to lift him, practiccally dragging him even as John leant over and kissed him lip to lip, and there was a veritable gush of energy that came with it.

His legs started to get traction under him again, but he clutched hard to John while Paul got him around the shoulders. None of it made sense, but they were leaving the small dilapidated space and heaving back out to fresh air, and the pull seemed to break.

"Jesus fucking christ on a crutch Seb!" Paul practically yelled at him as they literally manhandled him to the car and allowed him to collapse on the back seat. John was getting his kit and shouldering Paul out of the way."Can you see me Seb? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He blinked, breathed in hard; his face felt wet, and everything was too bright. "Three. That was useless as fuck, wasn't it?"

"No, but not useful enough that it warranted whatever happened." Paul said. John was cleaning him up."You bled like a stuck pig from the eyes you idiot."

"Yeah. I said I don't enjoy talking to him." He half clutched at John, setting a hand on his side. "He used to roam the countryside as a sucking breathing rib cage; if you could snatch his heart, you got a boon, and if you got it closed on your hand he sucked you in. Blood and fire."

"hHat helping?" John said as warmth spread from his hand. "Seb, far as we could see you weren't talking to anyone. All there was in the room was a big black mirror. And you looked in it and started talking to yourself."

"I was talking to him. He is the Smoking Mirror..." Sebastian waved his other hand a little, soaking in that warmth. "I saw him, and his bone leg."

"Well I don't know how the hell that worked," Paul said with the terse tone that Seb knew meant he was really worried."Because I wasn't picking up anything new there. Was it some sort of communication device and he wasn't there?

"No, he was there. He was standing in front of me." Sebastian sat up a little, still clutching at John. "I was talking to a mirror?"

"Yeah," John agreed steadying him."Is that normal?"

"He might have hidden himself away," Paul said."But I've been in the presence of something like it before and I could only pick up you."

"But I saw him, clear as day." He had a sinking feeling, a sick nausea that clung to his throat as he looked up at John. "Clear. Talked to him. He said how the deal will be broken. I..."

"Look, I don't know how these things work," John said."But there was no one there Seb."

"He's right. Just the obsidian mirror."

He shook his head for a moment, staring up at John. He had seen his father in the mirror, and that could only mean one thing. "Look at what I saw. I need you to see what we talked about."

John looked at him directly before nodding and taking his hand. It didn't take much to connect with him, and he could see him grimacing as he watched the recollection and then...he was pulled into John's vision of the event.

It hurt to watch, but it confirmed his fear -- he was animatedly interacting with thin air, and then he'd collapsed to his knees, eyes bleeding as his form shifted, melded to a ragged bleeding thing, missing a leg up to his ass and part of his side, and he felt his body twinge then, even as he watched himself reform, and just held more tightly to John's hand. "I don't understand."

"Me neither," he replied."I feel that the words are truthful as far as they go. It's like information without the link."

"If you two will let me know what the hell is going on, I might be able to help." Paul pointed out.

Sebastian turned his head, looking at Paul and musing that he needed a larger car if they were going to do that shit. "I don't know. It's... Obsidian mirrors show the true reality."

"In theory, but they are also scrying tools to see elsewhere," he said."You saw your father in the mirror. Okay, it's part of his belief system."

"It's my belief system. It's still the true reality. My old form came back. I didn't know it was like that. I don't know anymore what happened then..." He shifted his attention to John.

"There was a bit where he said in the last conflict, the Outsider had taken a portion of Seb with it.." John said hesitantly."What does that mean?"

He started to sit up, feeling himself carefully. The crumbling injuries felt real, still, even if his stomach was solid and his hips were there. "The memory I have isn't real. I think it savaged me."

"The fact is that something was drawing energy off of you," Paul said practically."You don't draw energy like that off yourself, that's just a fact."

"But it was telling you what to find," John said.

"It's my father." Or maybe he was him. "We need to go raid your library, Paul."

"We can do that. If John declares you fit enough."

"He could probably use something to eat but he appears stable," John replied nodding.

"When we get back into London going to try shifting to my original form again. Jaguars fine, never had a problem with that, and I've played this body for so long... Why did I stop using the other?" Couldn't remember a moment where he made that decision, couldn't remember large chunks of time know that he thought about it.

"Easy," John soothed him."You don't have to solve this all at once. Maybe I can try and pick through things later okay?"

He exhaled slowly, half nodding at John's suggestion. "I have to put the ward back up first. I think it was my ward in the first place."

"Okay," Paul said."I can do that if you want. I don't want you bleeding off more energy."

“Thanks." He was pretty sure that he also wasn't fit to drive back, and hoped that between them Paul and John would decide who was driving. Everything felt surreal.

Paul vanished out of his sight and John was left with him, looking down at where he was sprawled on the back seat with a worried expression."Are you okay?" he murmured."You look shocky."

"I feel really awful. And I'll be honest, it fucking scares me. That I might be him and not me."

He felt John's thumb smooth over his cheek."Seb, you are not him," he said ."I don't know which way things have gone, but he is not you. If he's done something to you, then I can tell you, it's not that I feel. I feel you. All of you."

It was a surge of faith that he didn't have in himself just then, odd that John would feel it so strongly but he'd pulled him back from it. "I believe you."

"Good." John gave a slight smile and then the expression faded."But something has been done to you, that you are correct about. And it involves your father. But we can look into it."

"When we're back in London." He wanted to go home, but there was utility in immediately going to Paul's library. In exposing John to that wealth of knowledge.

"Lie still," John answered,"You are going to rest on our way back." He was surprisingly firm about it.

"You driving?" Finished into his pants pocket to hand John his keys. "I think I could just lay back here and sleep."

"Yeah," John said, and he was bundling up a jacket as a makeshift pillow and blanket."Here, have this..it's like a granola bar. Eat and then rest."

---

Sebastian passed out almost immediately once the car was moving, clutching tight to the stub of a chocolate chip energy bar. There was still blood on his face, and it was a little, no, it was very hard to not think of captivity and the man with the broken leg and the tattered bits of uniform that he'd first met.

It was probably good that Paul was driving.

He had taken one look at John and his inability to stop checking that Seb was okay and ousted him from the drivers seat for the sake of them all, or so he said.

John was struggling to find a frame of reference for all these experiences. Part of him was still protesting he must have lost his marbles.

Him Paul or Sebastian, or all three of them. "You doing okay, John?"

"Yeah," he said automatically and then shook his head."I guess I don't get what just happened.. Does this sort of thing usually happen?" It had hardly been any time at all since he'd been in hospital, and he had been plunged into this existence but had no frame of reference to judge if something was bad, good or he should be running for the hills.

"Yes and no. Gods are different from us. Each religions gods are different. I've spent enough time just palling around with Seb that I just assumed when he said he was a God that he was a Demigod, a half, quarter something from some sexual encounter with a priestess."

"Half I think, but I get the impression there is more to it in his family," John shrugged a little."He's worried he is not himself."

"I'm worried he's not himself. That was his ward on the building, and I didn't feel anyone else's magic. Magic is like a fingerprint, if you know a person. It's a scent, a feel, pheromones."

"Okay." John shook his head."But that wasn't him. Like you said something was drawing energy from somewhere."

"Something was in him drawing energy from him, I think." Paul spared a quick glance at John, but mostly kept his eyes on the road. "Tezcatlipoca shifted physical bodies through possession."

"You're saying he's possessed?" John knew he sounded incredulous but that was ridiculous."But he's...Seb. He feels like one person. Like Seb."

"Yes," Paul agreed, quickly, "but. Maybe he has... fractured personalities? Or, I don't know. We need to do more research. I should have pressed harder when he said he thought he was dying."

John felt a chill at that."He's not though is he?" he asked. His instincts said not but what did he know?

"No. No, but maybe he's changing." Paul shook his head. "I need to find out what God he had been and we can work it backward from there. I need to go through the old books."

John remember the name Seb's father, if that was what it was had said." His father, the spirit or whatever said he was 'Heart of the mountain my Tepeyollotl, you were the Jaguar'. Does that help?"

Paul exhaled thoughtfully. "Heart of the mountain. Tepeyollotl, I think he was an avatar for Tezcatlipoca. Damn, I really need to look this up, I don't know this off the top of my head, and I can't be sure. I honestly joked Seb to hell and back about being and over-puffed were-jaguar."

"Well, I can look things up but I'm pretty new to all this," John admitted feeling a bit helpless."I've obviously got some weird connection going on."

"Can you see what he's dreaming of?" It was an odd question, but not as odd as anything else had been.

"What now?" John hesitated."I'm not sure, I'm not sure how to try.

"Reach a hand back and touch him. And just... see if you can join him sleeping." It was a hell of a way to try something new, and John didn't know if it would work. "He always said he was a Nahual."

“A what?” John frowned at that. “What's a nahual?” He couldn't remember if Seb had ever mentioned it before.

“He said they were animal people. Not like weres, but they could shift like skinwalkers. Generally, from modern shamans, they are understood to be the animal spirits, attached to a person. So I don't know if he is something the literature hasn't documented or if he's his father's animal spirit.”

John tried to absorb that. "If I make it into his dreams what do I look out for."

"Anything. It's harder to keep walls up in dreams, and you may be able to reach the reality of what happened, rather than what Sebastian thinks happened."

John had to agree it probably made sense, for a given value of sense that was his life at the moment. "I'll give it a go. I'm going to have to start wearing gloves if I keep doing this sort of thing." He wanted to help Seb, even if it meant constantly immersing himself into the unfamiliar. He reached around to try and touch Seb and closed his eyes, trying to let images flow.

It didn't take as long for the connection to occur as he had feared. It was like settling into a warm bath, sinking into the familiar and letting it wash over him. Sebastian was usually a louder presence but now he felt small to John, as if he was curled up in himself.

He half wanted to call out to him but reasoned he was meant to be there to observe so tried instinctively to be quieter and less intrusive. Even so he half recognised some of the images that solidified around him. A Seb nest... in cave it looked like, but flickering fire and furs.

Familiar, but weakened, desperately weak, and those priests who were tending to him were unfamiliar with him, survivors of the slaughter. He shifted, unfurled and stretched slowly onto his back, and there was an unfamiliar face with a familiar feeling, dark skinned and long black hair, his body mangled, a leg missing completely. John could see entrails and more blood every time he breathed.

It was the priest reaction that told him this was not usual. One after another they murmured in hushed tones something that sounded like an Azted prayer that his subconscious translated for him. "Oh Smoking Mirror, Obsidian Blade, We are his Slaves, the Enemy, the Maker of himself, we are worthless in your sight. Who are we to stand in your presences..."

A priest with a turquoise inlaid mask moved to the fore. "Our god lives once more, his son sacrifices at his bidding!"

The other priests, looked far less convinced, because then the image of the unfamiliar visage shifted, moved to something more Seb like to the movement. "No! The Heart of the Mountain survives."

He could feel Sebastian in it, could see the shifting of the face, the elongating of the features, even though the physical damage remained, ragged and ruinous, they area around his eyes softened in a telling way. And then he looked at the priests. "He does and he does not."

"Oh my beloved lord, what does this mean?" The priest who John was mentally calling one of Seb's rather than his father seemed genuinely emotionally affected by the situation.
Then again, his God laid before him half broken. It was a little wonder the man was distraught. "We both live. I carry him in me."

"Then instruct us on how to heal you," the man was asking, but John was already disturbed at the thought that Seb was basically an ancient Harry Potter with his father as some ancient original horcrux possession. That was the only knowledge he could bring to bear to categorise what he was seeing now.
Basically. He half wondered if he could make Seb read Harry Potter as a way of explaining it.

"I do not know. Sit with me and I will discard this form."

The images blurred some, becoming chaotic and unstructured. Dream fragments. There was blood, and the slow movement of sex with the bright flash of eye. A little power, and Sebastian shifted again, shifted away from what he had been and to some hard to fathom creature, more jaguar than person, more fur, and cutting blue eyes. It was the eyes that struck him, sharp at their core but soft at edges, sympathetic. The priest seemed more at ease then, as if it were familiar somehow.

John could feel Seb's energy there, dominant somehow, settling, while around them the other priests circled them in a whirling blurred movement, doing something, making something that wound around him over and over. A Binding of sorts John guessed.

Binding what or *to* what, he wasn't sure, but Sebastian was firm and clear in his mind's eye even if he looked different. It had done away with the gore of the injury, the shape shifting, and he felt... familiar to John.

The image shifted to a golden Jaguar lying sprawled out, and as he watched the flower bloom markings, spread, covering the fur into black, with only the eyes staying golden...and then the golden colour bled back in and the black faded back. Round and round the cycle went in the peculiar circular logic of a dream.

It faded away to nothing, that sense of dreaming, and he was mostly aware of Sebastian turning his head to press his mouth against John's hand as they both surfaced from the dream.

He stroked at his skin, sensing the golden fur that could, should , would be there and tried to hold onto the images of the dream as they threatened to break up and dissipate. He wasn't sure what it meant, although the bit about them both being present was good but alarming.

He didn't get it well enough, didn't, it still wasn't his world, and he'd read books and thought some wild things in his time, this was all reality. This was real and he didn't know what it meant. "Mmm, hey."

"You two slept a while," Paul said from where he was driving. "We're nearly home."

"Hey," John said, his mind ticking over about how he could keep the gold, strengthen that, not the other.

It was a gut feeling, and John knew to trust his gut. "Still feel wrung out."

"Not surprised," Paul commented. "Did you see anything John?"

"I think I saw some," John admitted. "Paul thought your subconscious might hold more of the truth than what you could remember."

He gave half a laugh, where most men would've been suspicious, and looked up at John with tired eyes. "I'm missing part of my original body. And I don't remember it at all. So good chance, yeah, he's right. Did you see anything interesting?" He moved a hand to reach out and touch John.

"I saw what I think was after the battle and you were a mess...you didn't look like you, and your leg was shredded, gone." John said reaching back. "There were priests, some I think of your fathers and some of yours. And, it was like there was an internal battle. Both sets recognising you as theirs."

"But I saw him survive the battle. He was fine. I was fine." And yet neither of them were fine. He'd have to share it back to Sebastian, re-acquaint him to his subconscious memories which seemed so useful.

"There was some sort of ritual. Your priest gave energy to you, and your fathers did some sort of binding ceremony thing," John replied, not sure how to describe it.

"If it were a normal possession, we probably won't be having this talk, so that's some comfort." Sebastian shifted, sat up a little to see where they were. Close to Paul's, John knew that. They had some heavy reading to do.

The frustrating thing was that Sherlock should be the one with this ability. With his observational skills he would no doubt pluck the answer fully formed out of thin air. He was a doctor, not a… whatever he was. Not even normal in the Supernatural world from the sounds of it.

Not from the way everyone eyed him. Paul parked the car not long after that, and Sebastian started to sit up, groaning. "I wonder if there's any use in trying to heal my broken pieces, or if it's safer to leave them broken."

"I think we should." John said automatically without thinking.

"There speaks your priest," Paul said dryly.

"I'm glad someone is." He smirked a little, and leaned up to kiss John. "C'mon, let's go bleed on Paul's sofa while he reads."

John kissed back, wondering at the fact that he felt no inhibition about doing that with Seb, whereas before he had been secretive and reserved about relationships. Thinking back, he didn't like to get too close and usually after sex felt a bit overwhelmed by the strength of his feelings so would back off. This was openness on the closeness, this was a relief, because there was no need to worry if he was feeling overwhelmed. "You're both going to have to help me on this," Paul half reminded as he got out of the car.

"I'll do what I can , but I'm technically a doctor. You both have much more background than me," John said and got out as well, reaching back to help Seb.."And you are washing this off..."

"Did you just lick your thumb?" Sebastian was grinning as he moved to scoot out the passenger door. "Nah, thought I'd wander down the street and get a chip butty..."

"Idiot," John said relieved Seb was sounding like himself.

"We can do that later," Paul said. "I've probably got a set of your clothes here from the last time you tried to bleed out everywhere."

"What was that, the angry wendigo?" Sebastian stretched slowly, and he was limping a little but seemed to walk it off as the stiffness wore off. "I miss things like that right now."

"Yeah. Hold on John, I have to key you to my wards," Paul said and John had the distinct impression of vast amounts of protection, buzzing. He watched as Paul muttered under his breath and took a single hair from him and it apparently vaporised. "There we go. No touching my books with sticky hands Seb.."

"Like I'm not house trained," he scoffed, grinning at John in a playful, showy way that was disconcerting when his face was so bloody.

Paul's place was probably more like what he expected of someone who reminded him a lot of a James Bond would have -- if James Bond had a fetish for arcane artefacts. It was quite clever. Paul had them displayed artistically as if he was indulging in a hobby, but John could feel the enveloping protection.

They were all placed carefully and for a purpose, and that purpose was Paul's continued survival. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Very." John grinned.."So, you know I'm guessing the makeshift interior design at your place is down to you huh?."

"I like the comfort of it," Seb countered. "It's full of things I hunted, and it's comfortable."

"It's basically a man - cave," Paul pointed out. "Go, get showered for god's sake Seb. John, I'll show you where the library is -well room, I call my study. I am hoping your intuition will guide you to things we need to know."

"Will do." He waved vaguely at them, and headed for Paul's shower, leaving John with the Battle Mage.

Paul gestured for John to follow him. "I promise it won't bite."

"You sure? Are these magic books or just books about magic?." John asked as he followed.."I wasn't sure if you would be the studious type. That's more a Sherlock thing."

"Yes to both on the books. Mostly the second one." A full and proper library, with floor to ceiling shelves. "Think of it as applied knowledge. You have to know what spell to use against what creature or demon from what religion."

That did make sense. "So, I guess we need information on Seb's father. Or Aztec rites?." He hesitated a moment. "Possibly earlier?." There had been a feeling of ancient wisdom.

"Older. Mayan, pre-Mayan," Paul murmured, letting his hands idle over books. "Good."

John sat at one of the rather plush chairs and picked up one of the books that Paul put in front of him. "Not sure I've ever heard of the Olmecs," he commented.

"Time to pretend you were an avid reader of history. I'll dust the old codexes off and make Seb read them to us, as well. Usually pisses him off, because the ones preserved were mostly written down forth hand, by Christian converts."

John smiled at that. "Okay then, back to my student days it is..." Olmecs and their significance and culture it was then.

Chapter 4

Summary:

Not for the first John was wondering if he had had another lapse with reality agreeing to go to a sex club. He wasn't a complete sex club virgin but the ones he had visited with groups of other soldiers and medical staff were not like this. But from the way that Seb found his way, he had been to the Dark Court before.

"It's a safe place for our kind," Sebastian promised, "run by a colleague of mine. She's fae."

"So, a sex-club for the Other kind?" John asked, nervously tugging to reposition his shirt that felt scratchy. Something in the air was making him feel antsy. The entrance of the Dark Court was a sort of gothic opulence that he saw in vampire films, and he could hear the sounds of music and other noises as the door opened and a stunningly beautiful woman entered.

It was like bumping the edge of an old bruise, and now that he'd rediscovered it, it was like a dog chewing on a hot spot. He was all sealed up with grave injuries. Permanently.

How had he never been aware of those places before? It wasn't like he didn't take injuries now, most of the old gods could be hurt, could be diminished down to a level of mortality and he'd long since accepted that something powerful enough could take him down permanently. Just as he remembered the days when he could tear down mountains with a whole nations belief and history pouring power into him.

But this was surreal, beyond that, a memory tainted and locked away, and he wasn't sure what was what except that he wanted to hold John very tight and he felt restless. A bath helped most everything, but he wanted to switch over, back to the old body and really catalogue what was going on, as if physical evidence would tell him the whole story where his mind hand memory had been lying to him all this time.

He looked down at his own body as it was now, stretched out in the bath soaking away stress and wondered where the evidence of those injuries actually were. He had been in this body-shape longer so he wasn't sure which would tell him more. His nahual shape of the jaguar always felt whole and powerful and he had changed into that often enough over the centuries. So how had this been hiding?

Was he really even who he thought he was? Seb knew he had a habit of trying not to think too deeply about things in the past and maybe there was a reason why rather than him being a shallow bastard as he claimed.

None of the explanations were at all comfortable to consider, rather than what he had always assumed, which was that his cat nature wasn't any good with the concept of time and that explained the patchy nature of his recollection.

He tried to think a little bit about what John had managed to pick up -- John still had no idea how impressive it was he could do that so soon after coming online and though he and Paul talked about it they decided that if John didn’t know something was thought to be impossible he might just manage to do the impossible. Most sensitives needed training to be able to reach those sorts of perception, or determine energies. But Paul had said with a shrug, they knew John had been trained somehow - most likely with brutal intent and efficiency at a highly accelerated rate under constant threat of death. The fact that he didn’t remember what he knew did not necessarily mean he didn’t know it. Still, on a basic level, a sensitive coming on-line often needed psychiatric care and the sort of visions John had been experiencing would have knocked them right out.

John was diving in headfirst, no trips, not much of a struggle if Seb didn't count those first few total mental meltdowns. They’d brushed them off as an annoyance, but it was his sanity trying to establish its dominance again and he’d managed to override then human need for normality with his experience of the truth. No, John was amazing and doing better every day.

And he was his. His priest, his John, not his father's. If there was something that made him feel separate and individual it was the fact that he had John and instinctively knew John was his.

No questions, even if his father had been salivating over John. And it didn't even feel like an actionable threat from his father, unless he was standing, apparently, in front of an obsidian mirror.

That had been unnerving, but his father's symbol had been the Smoking Mirror and sign of his power over divination and scrying. The sacred obsidian mirrors also stripped away lies and that was probably why he saw him then. His own reflection made real. Was it true though that the wounds, the gaps in him were due to parts of him being sealed away in the Outside?

And his father there in him. He hadn't survived that battle, and Sebastian had no memory of it, no clear memory of it, except that the empire had started to decay, and he'd left with the Spanish after a while because it suited him to find new battles and because life as he knew it was changing. He had the what, but not the why.

So if he was right from the glimpses of recollection that John had dredged up they had battled a terrible threat and had won in a pyrrhic victory. His father had been crippled and like the sage had declared, as above, so below. The Empire lost its fulcrum of stability, the power that made them dominate South America and their power base had toppled, felled by that catastrophic incident.

Thus had ended their reign. Sebastian stretched, and sleeked his way out of the tub, taking a moment to scruff himself off with a towel. Hopefully John and Paul were getting on.

Paul had left a pile of clothes on the radiator and he recognised them as his, though he seemed to recall they had holes in them at the time. Apparently Paul did occasionally use magic to do other things aside from blow things up loudly, although Seb found it amusing to think of the Battle mage casting incantations to heal his socks of grievous holes. He slipped them on and as he left the bathroom he could smell Chinese food.

"How long was I in there?" He half asked, half deciding it'd been a very long time if they had time not just to get over introduction but to decide on food and get it delivered.

Paul looked up with a mouthful of chow mien. "You were napping in there. I cheat, the water stays hot. A clever runic combination etched into the bath. John and I have been working, you lazy bastard.”

John grinned waving a chopstick or two around, nearly losing his grip on what looked like sweet and sour chicken. "Not allowed in the library with food apparently."

"Not a bad call given I once spilled tea on some bothersome text... And I wasn't napping. I was enjoying it." And dozing maybe. Maybe. He stretched again, feeling very mellow. He’d have to see about getting that runic configuration.

"You were bloody well snoring," Paul said gesturing with a chopstick as well.

"I thought it was an earthquake," John chipped in. John looked a lot better for eating something. After the visions he had looked pale and a bit waxy translucence to the skin, a bit like shock.

This was much better for John. Clearly Paul's basic skills of care and feeding were above par. "Maybe I took a little nap," he confessed, reaching out to snag an egg roll with his fingers.

"You look better, " John said, studying him with that look that had become second nature now. "Paul's been debriefing me properly and putting all the details down I remember."

"Excellent. As we have proven that my memory is officially shit. I remember hard fought victory, not half of me being chomped on." He sat down beside John.

"To be fair Seb, " Paul said, "From our initial looks , it appears like the binding ritual that was done is responsible for that. John thinks that they implanted positive memories in relation to your father to prevent your mind instinctively rejecting what you would have seen as the source of the pain."

"Actually I said, 'I think they were hiding the other energy for some reason,’" John commented.

"Can't see why. He usually fully takes a host. I shouldn't even exist as me." It was still a grim statement, but true, so true that it ached.

"That's the bit I don't get," John said. "How can he be a separate entity but be recognised as his father as well?"

"In possibly more familiar terms to you John, it's a bit like the Metatron being the Voice of God, except Seb is the Jaguar of his father… and his father tends not to be generous historically in allowing a host mind." Paul explained and he’d obviously been reading up on his lineage.

"But to be a host, the mind has to exist," John argued.

"I had seen him occupy my brothers and sisters. All he needs is a body one of appropriate power, or ritually prepared like the Year kings. He's..."

"...a dick," Paul said shrugging his shoulders. "But then the Jaguar is the form of raw power. It's possible of all of them you are able to survive due to what was your baseline power not being completely overwhelmed."

"I'm starting to consider that I might be the last of us." It had never really interested him to look for the others, because he had always prefer the company of humans, or his own time with himself for his amusement.

“You might well be," Paul said. "After all, it was the ritual year kings filled with his power that generated your brothers and sisters. You on the other hand, if what you have said is true were not born human. "

"Look, we've worked out that he was weakened, you were injured, your priest gave of himself to give you directly power, not your father and that put you personally in a dominant position, but there were stronger priests of your father there, so they bound your memory and I think..." John hesitated. "I think they bound your father’s energy into you as if you were an anchor point."

"And he's not strong enough in himself to best me. Yet." Sebastian reached for another egg roll, "So, this whole thinking I'm starving to death..."

"He's been leeching you," Paul corroborated.

"Does that mean that I shouldn't be having sex with Seb," John looked almost comically worried at that prospect.

"If you weren't bonded as Seb's priest yeah," Paul said. "Joking aside, I do think Seb is hitting his adult development and he is unconsciously starting to fight the intruder. He's had nightmares as long as I've known him," Paul said looking directly at him. "Not as good at concealing that as you believe furball."

"I'm going to eat all your fried rice for that." He cleared his throat as he reached for chopsticks. "So, I have nightmares. So does everything."

"Old nightmares, but no dreams," Paul clarified. "Anyway, going back to our research, there is some interesting stuff about the Ritual of the Angels, but it looks like a Christianized version of something older, so we'd like you to do some translation."

"Mmmph, let me eat a bit more," he bartered, snagging some of the fried rice. "Ritual of Angels. I wish more of the old tomes had survived."

"Yeah, me too," Paul grimaced a little. "They're probably in a cave somewhere."

"You know, I've been thinking. You know the anchor thing... what if it is your father's essence that was half with the Outsiders. Not just an injury," John mused.

"Then he wouldn't be able to fully take me over." Sebastian looked thoughtful, felt tired and a little frightened as he looked over to John. "Might. Might... need to take a look at that text now."

"Eat first," Paul instructed. "I'll get the books. "

John moved closer to him, looking worried. "You okay?"

"Feeling like a marathon runner who just got informed of a dicky heart." He grimaced, and ate a bit more fried rice, trying not to wolf it down.

"Look, I know you are okay," John said. "I'm not going to let anything get to you." He looked strangely serious and fierce.

He was fairly sure there was no stopping anything that wanted to get to him, and John was talented but a mortal who was new to all of this. But he leaned in and nudged his face against John's, a nuzzle of a kiss against the side of his face, lips on stubble. "I've been staggering on blindly for the last thousand or so years."

"You've been being you, protecting your men," John said. "That's your instinct. Not your fathers. That much I do know."

"I didn't know there was anything going on, or that I was the last of us, I just..." He should have known, protected his people better, not just left.

"Think about it logically," Paul said as he returned with the text. "You might have had a compulsion to leave in whatever they did."

"True. But I should've been stronger than that. I'm a god." It helped that Paul snorted, and Sebastian turned a little, feeling himself relax.

"Who was the sole survivor of a massive pantheon, taking on an Outsider, badly injured, semi-amnesiac," Paul pointed out.

But why save him, his father, if they were almost promptly abandoned by their followers? It made his head ache, and he wiped his hands off on a napkin before reaching for what Paul was holding. "We were strong when the Outsider came."

"Yes, and now others have come into that strength," Paul said. "But think about it tactically... you are facing a massive threat that might be back. There is one survivor from this threat. What would you do."

"Strategic retreat and preserve intel." To pull back as far as he did... Sebastian's head hurt. "And you think this'll have some answers."

"Yes, but more to the point, someone or something is going to figure you have an answer. I'd want my intelligence firsthand if possible." Paul said. “And your knowledge of ancient texts from reading the first editions so to speak.”

"This is a section on maize." Sebastian quirked a look at Paul. "Not sure what significance you wanted from this." It was hard to not read it without getting angry.

"Are you looking at the Ritual of the Angels or something else?" Paul asked exasperated. "Here, this one. I want to know if there is a more descriptive way of determining what the pillars and stones are."

"Maize is the three-cornered stone of grace," he countered, feeling frustrated. "Tun is a stone, or a year. It was used for counting and used for awe, and katun is 20 years. What... the night, the mirror, the wind, that's where we are. That's where the spread of Christianity didn't know where to reach."

"There has got to be a clue to what the stone is," Paul sounded frustrated as well. "John, did you get any sort of visual on that?"

John shook his head. "No, and unless you want me out cold I'm not going looking until I've slept. I've done emergency triage shifts that wipe me out less than doing this ...thing."

"You think of stones and you think of places of power," Seb countered. "Time is firm like a stone, but stones are often metaphors for important things that are precious, not like the standing stones."

John frowned. "So we are not looking at a literal stone, or is here a stone that also symbolises time?"

"It could be yes to either. I, what are you looking for here? An explanation of my father's power, or...?"
It was difficult for Seb to focus on what was needed.

"Okay, I was just hoping the two were linked," Paul said exhaling.

"It's possible they are," John said. "I hate to say it, but Sherlock is your man for this sort of thing."

"The root of it is how my father possessed his avatars and shifted his power, yes?"

"Well, yes. Did it happen to you before?" Paul queried.

"Once, I think. He was escaping something." It worried at him, again, and he leaned back, looking at the tome. "Do you have more copies in the library?

"Feel free to browse," Paul said. "At least it indicates that he does not consume the host in the process."

"They do that?" John looked alarmed.

"It's more a power level thing," Paul said. "Which is probably why he preferred his offspring as hosts. And Seb is strong enough to… well, last out."

"Throw me on like an old shawl when the opportunity presented, but it wasn't..." Sebastian sighed and stood up. "I always liked the Aztec stories better."

"In what way?" John asked. Seb could feel his attention focus on him. It was strangely like some sort of heat source. He resisted the urge to bask.

"Blood and time, everything was blood and time. They're almost still readable, now a days." He ran a hand through his hair, and moved to the library to swap the maize-text for something more useful to him.

It was strange how humans recorded things as they made stories that wrapped reality in meaning. Paul had some very old texts and in some cases pictures of writings on artefacts. Seb was going back earlier, looking for anything that jumped out at him.

The pictograms spoke to him the best, and he lingered, touching these reproduction copies with reverence as he wandered back towards John.

"Found something?" John asked as he sat down again. "They look a bit odd. And old."

"Old. The first stories, when we were rampant..." Sebastian showed them to John, glancing up at Paul. "This is me."

John looked at the pictograph and then at him. "I think you've lost weight," he said in a serious sounding tone.

"Lot of furs. And I lost a hip in there somewhere," Sebastian joked, letting his fingers linger. "Story says that I was the first son, born of his shed skin after he fled the feathered serpent."

"Do you remember any of it?" he said. "I mean, actually?"

"A good question. There's a lot of interpretation that could go into that origin story." Paul commented.

"I remember being a little thing mewling for attention at his feet. First memory was being picked up by him, this dark shining gleam, and being fed from his hand. I chewed on his fingers, and then I was in the forests and the temples for a long time, just being." He glanced sideways to John. "Sorry, nothing really dramatic. I got sleek and fat and played with the worshippers and the priests, and hunted when I wanted to. I grew up with the humans."

"Hang on," John frowned. "Wasn't he the Jaguar when he destroyed the First World. I remember reading that."

"In theory." Paul fidgeted with his beer. "But your memory would indicate there was some form of generative other spirit. Animal spirits, nahuals are different to The People and weres. They are archetypes in themselves, the earliest of mythos. I wonder if you are the offspring of a primal Jaguar spirit and your father's union with it."

"What, so he transformed into a Jaguar, a world destroying Jaguar, and at the end when he let go of the shape it turned out that he was essentially pregnant?" John asked incredulous.

"No different to Athena being born out of Zeus' thought," Paul said.

He'd always firmly maintained he was Jaguar before human, and it was hilarious to see Paul finally concede on that point. "Which made me different from the rest of my siblings."

"That definitely would." Paul was thinking, looking at him. "You were his ace in the hole. His backup plan - he was a god of divination after all. He must have received some form of inkling about the future. I always wondered why all those civilizations were obsessed with time and the future."

"So, what does this actually mean?" John asked. "Seb isn't going to be used up and discarded like one of the sacrifices?"

"Last one. What would he move on to?" He turned another page, browsing in comfort now that he was back beside John.

"But he can exist outside of you right? and a host." John said. "I think you are the thing holding him here. I think the binding holds him in you and uses your strength to keep him from being drawn to his lost energy."

"Might be more of him there than on this side. I don't know. He used to exist outside all the time, but I... I've been seeing him every so often for centuries, avoiding him, and I thought he was just puttering around."

"To a certain extent maybe he was," Paul said. "I think that's a solid working premise though. We've got a split energy here. This could be indicative of you pushing him out or a stronger draw from the other side. Either way, I think we're against the clock."

"Until he gets full control, or... Until we face an Outsider again." If it was the same outsider, that was an unfathomable horror to consider. He remembered it, the crawling fear that still haunted him even without clear memories to give it context.

"I guess it is preferable to not face the Outsider?" John asked.

"It would be...difficult, yes," Understatement of the epoch there. One Outsider would consume the world as it descended into horror and insanity from its mere presence.

"My father was an omnipresent god before the outsider came, and our civilization was flourishing. I'm sure other incursions are similar scars on the face of human development."

"There are a couple of sages that discuss that the secret purpose of gods and entities is as a form of protection, " Paul murmured. "When one turns up, that usually ends up as end of the world stuff for whichever civilization is dominant."

"The only thing that can beat the things in the night is believing a worse more ferocious one cares about you," Sebastian drawled.

"Okay, someone needs to teach me how to do something about this whatever it is I have," John said seriously. "Something more than just doing this equivalent of psychic googling. I am not going to sit around helpless if the world is in danger."

"That was my next task," Sebastian half startled himself. "I just, yeah, we need to. Only today didn't go the way we expected."

"Understatement," Paul said as he sat back looking thoughtful.

"You guys are talking about combat situations. I need to know the basics of defense or I'll be a liability," John insisted.

"Magical defense is the same principles as military defense. Instead of artillery, you've got spells."

"Which I know nothing about," John pointed out. It was a point, John seemed to know so much already, it was hard to remember he had only become aware of this part of the world at all in less than a month.
He was just doing so damn well that he and Paul and Sherlock were probably skipping some elementary steps.

"Right. Right. So we need... to pick a basic starting point and work up."

"Basic training all over again," Paul said with a faint smile. "Sensitives don't usually do combat spells.”

"You tell me I'm different," John answered. "I was a good shot for a doctor."

"Not sure what you can wield. Fire, or...?" Sebastian leaned back in his chair, setting the tome aside. "Not sure. Pain?"

John shrugged. "I really don't know. You'd think I would have figured it out when I was caught if I could have done anything."

"But that was your awakening." Sebastian glanced over to Paul, and gestured a little. "How did you first practice?"

“Raging teenage hormones building power up that needed outlets,” Paul said. “I’ll be honest, I went the easy route and didn’t get overwhelmed by the supercharged libido.”

"Oh we can try sex clubs to get him charged up and then see?" Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. "Everything I do has very few words to it, no structure the way Paul and most of our world operates. But that’s more about my heritage than anything else."

John looked a little uncomfortable. "You really think I'm going to power up there?" he said skeptically. "How do you power up? Just through belief?"

"I do. Just through belief, and sacrifice. And Paul is a self-charging battery, and he can draw from the environment around him, but if the demand outpaces capacity it can go badly wrong. It does amazing things to blood sugar, I've been told. This is why we have stories of great magic occurring and a person passing out or collapsing."

“Used to do my first spells with mats on the floor to break my fall,” Paul concurred.

"And normal sensitives?" John queried. "Is their energy all internal based? Is this heyoka business an inversion?"

"Pretty much," Paul said. "Difficult to say, because they don't happen often enough for there to be reliable information. Everything has a power source. Mages and most of the Magic users draw from a core inside, that refills from the natural magic around them...much like the process of respiration. Sensitives are generally similar, but they absorb more and then tend to radiate more constantly. So, like a fire, versus a magic users short burst blow torch. The Were and People have magic bound in complicated ways to their blood. The Fey, well they are strongly linked to elemental energies. Tricksters... they feed off of chaos energy, the radiations of entropy and wildness. Demons, often off of negative emotions."

"Isn't that what you are saying I can do?" John asked saying alarmed.

"It's also what my father fed off of, and what I can sometimes feed off of. The fear of my enemies, awe from and outsider can be just as good as worship if it's the right edge to it. It's not as simple as negative emotions means a demon." Sebastian gave Paul a careful look as he said it.

"Look," Paul was picking his words. "Energy is energy. You were forced to learn how to process that energy. The thing is, pain, fear, death energy, it's a damn sight easier to generate in large quantities as a raw product. Easier than training special individuals to enlightened states of mind. Then you set up a means of distilling it... sensitives refine energies. Everything wants a sensitive, but sensitives are usually incompatible with this sort of energy. Fries them out. You on the other hand did not. You adapted. You are a conduit for energies that most sensitives cannot touch. "

"Which means you have access to more raw power than most. I've started bar fights just to look impressive and get enough of a bump to stay alive during some rougher times. If you're creative about it, you can be the strongest person in the room during a dangerous moment." It was just, how did they teach John to put that energy back out?

"So I was basically a battery for this demon?" John asked. "The only time I've done anything else is with you Seb. And all I did was concentrate. Otherwise, things have just happened.”

"Look, have you tried any sex club or kink at all?" Paul said seriously.

John blushed. "Uh...well. "

Sebastian grinned just a little, mouth curling slyly. "Maybe this is a story for later. But we can get you fueled up and then see... If you do better with words or if you're more like I am."

"Christ. You're not expecting me to, you know, do anything with other people are you?" John asked a bit warily.

"Nope. I'm too jealous for that. Just stand near me and watch a bit before we leave. A positive sort of darker energy. Good torture, you could say."

John shifted. "Okay. I guess it is the safest way. But maybe it should be tomorrow night? You've had a rough day."

"Yeah. Sort of wiped out right now. Still feel like I'm missing a limb, but I can see everything." He wondered if it was an aspect of him, if he had had proper aspects at some point, like the rest of his multifaceted family.

"Stay here," Paul said. "I'll go and report to the Holmses. " He sighed. "You owe me for this."

"It's a shame I won't be able to see the looks on their faces," Sebastian drawled.

---

Not for the first John was wondering if he had had another lapse with reality agreeing to go to a sex club. He wasn't a complete sex club virgin but the ones he had visited with groups of other soldiers and medical staff were not like this. But from the way that Seb found his way, he had been to the Dark Court before.

"It's a safe place for our kind," Sebastian promised, "run by a colleague of mine. She's fae."

"So, a sex-club for the Other kind?" John asked, nervously tugging to reposition his shirt that felt scratchy. Something in the air was making him feel antsy. The entrance of the Dark Court was a sort of gothic opulence that he saw in vampire films, and he could hear the sounds of music and other noises as the door opened and a stunningly beautiful woman entered.

"Well, well, Sebastian, you have brought us a gift?" She looked John over.

"No, I brought my own gift to show off," he countered smoothly, blandly. "Irene, this is Dr. John Watson. John, this is Irene."

"Good to meet you," John said politely, a little wary of this woman who broadcast sexuality like a weapon.

"Ah yes, Major John Watson, " Irene said sauntering closer. "I see Sebastian is... enjoying you."

She was trying to make him feel wrong footed, and John gritted his teeth. "More likely the other way around."

"Very likely the other way around," Sebastian chuckled, smiling with all teeth as he placed a hand on John's shoulder. "We're just here to take in the show."

"You know the rules, but perhaps I should go over them for your… guest," Irene practically purred. "Welcome to the Dark Court where the most secret desires of all are catered for."

John watched as she leaned towards him. "In this place, it is the wild magic that holds sway, an essence of neutrality. Mortal enemies may enter but the only blood spilled will be by consent. Desire forms the rules which must be consented to and any breach will result in the wild magic draining power until unconsciousness. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I think so." John answered his mouth suddenly dry.

"Neutrality is key to maintaining a place like this." Sebastian nodded to her, respectful but cool. "And she loves this place."

"Of course," Irene smiled, an elegant curve of a lip. "I do hope you will do more than observe. You don't seem the passive type."

John gave a small polite smile. "Just feeling my way."

"We don't judge here." Irene said, indicating for them to follow. "Just know that what you see, and hear is fulfilling a dark desire for everyone involved."

"Thank you." It was as much a thanks as a dismissal as Sebastian guided John in past that initial front entryway.

Immediately they were plunged into a different world. Dim almost club lighting, John surmised that this was the drinking and more public area where people danced or talked or apparently indulged in public sex from the eyeful he just caught. A wave of feeling almost immediately swept over him as he took in the surroundings, and the instances of people indulging or in some cases apparently being bound and tied for use.

Sebastian shifted his posture slightly, standing taller and looking sharper as he scanned the room. "Excellent. Now relax and let yourself see."

John tried to do so gingerly, nearly startling on occasion as he glimpsed features he wasn't expecting. Instantly, he started feeling something - spikes of need and want, sharpness. It felt...oddly familiar in a way. His eyes found one of the sources of that sensation - a human of some type having something done to him as he was bound tightly. There were constellation like bursts of pain and pleasure that pattered against his awareness in intoxicating energy shots. “Whoa."

"Mmm." Sebastian inhaled, and exhaled in a pleased sounding sigh. "So much sacrifice, and so much hunger. What're you feeling?"

"I, I'm not sure how to describe it," John said feeling like he had knocked back a vodka or something in one gulp. "Intense. It's not just the pleasure but the feelings. Dizzying. Like...the tightness of rope but.."

Floating, flying, letting go. There, something stagnant and dark breaking open under the sharp bright longed for and desperately needed pain. There, the intense desire to control, the delight in the vulnerability, the shocking revelation of power, the shivery delight of a moan of suffering, for them, only for them..

It was worship and it went both ways, with the submissive giving and receiving in turn with every moment of pain and twisting pleasure.

John had a moment where he struggled to not be submerged by it. Somehow he pulled himself together, placing some sort of shielding up instinctively. Nevertheless something was happening. "Have you done this before?"

"Come here to watch? Yes. It's also sometimes a good place to hold a negotiation." Sebastian slipped a hand down to the small of his spine.

"Well, not just that. Have you done this sort of thing?" he gestured to someone being leisurely flogged, and each strike burned in his awareness.

"Slowly and with skill," Sebastian promised, leaning in closer for a moment and he could almost hear the promise in his tone.

He felt a definite jolt from that as much as everything around him. He started connecting the feelings with a mental 'what if' for himself. What if Seb slowly and skill did that to him? Would he feel the same surges of desire and giving and thrilled desire he could sense now from the ‘victim’?

He shifted, feeling his body chime in with its opinions.

"So, uh..." he cleared his throat. "What do you think I should see?"

"Let's start with the flogging in the corner." Sebastian sounded infinitely pleased as he made that suggestion. "The leather straps are wide and heavy, landing with a heavy smack and it never fails to get a truly genuine response."

He led them that way, and John could feel the intensity ramp up by proximity as they approached. Each smack of sound on flesh gave him a surge of something. It was awakening something hungry in him, something he hadn't even been aware existed. It was like finding another massive stomach that had just realised it was empty.

"It's a sharp heat, and it builds, and the sharpness get sharper with every hit. And that's without any magic involved." Sebastian's voice turned a little husky.

He could feel his mouth going dry. "You've experienced it yourself?" he asked, mesmerized by the smack of leather on over sensitive flesh in front of him. The feeling was heady, and he could practically feel the echo on his own skin.

"Yes. I enjoy feeling things, and trying new things. I have dabbled in a little bit of everything with sex." He threw a smile out that was softer than John expected.

John found that strangely appealing. Someone who knew how it felt would be more careful. "But you enjoy dishing it out too?" Oh god, he hoped he did, because he was hungry for something and this watching was like a mouthful to a starving man.

"Frequently, if any partner has an interest in it. And we can make it... Different, better. A little spark of a spell..." Sebastian sighed, reminiscent and relaxed in a way that reflected good memories. "It can turn it in ways you couldn't imagine."

John was already starting to try and imagine. Spells as well? Like his ability to call up an illusion based on something in Seb's mind? "I am starting to imagine."

Sebastian slid a hand down to clutch right to John's left arsecheek, and gave it a squeeze. "A little extra heat, more pressure, a tingle where there shouldn’t be one..."

There. That physical direct connection set something flowing. He started drawing energy in, the dark visceral power being altered somehow as it did so. And with it came images, feelings, needs and wants.

"Holy fuck."

"Relax... Relax and let it flow into you." Sebastian crowded up close behind him, and he needed, too, but so much less intensely than the man being beaten who was growing in desperation and desire.

He fought for control, panting a moment to separate his conscious mind from the tumult. Now that, that felt like a familiar skill. Something he had learned. A way to rise above the river threatened to engulf him. It would be too easy to be swept away by it all, drown in it.

"Okay, I’ve got it… I'm, I've got it."

"This is technically negative energy. Pain and loss of control and sacrifice, but we know that the place it comes from is a good one." And that perhaps Sebastian was trying to de-stigmatize it a little. A lot.

"I can feel that," John said feeling more stable. "It is different than before. I've managed to push my mind out of being overwhelmed. I can see why sensitives would overload."

"How did you do that?" Sebastian asked, voice pitching quieter now.

"I don't know. It feels like something I've done before," John admitted. "Not easier but uh a bit like the zone you go into when you are doing medical triage in a firefight."

"Putting things in boxes," Sebastian noted, approvingly. "Very useful focus. But you can still feel it?"

"Yeah, still there," John said and as his attention focused, he could feel the pull of it. "I am really going to want to be doing something when we make it home."

"We will. Anything you want." He squeezed John's arse cheek again, slow and firm.

Again he felt energy flow. "Mm. What else should I experience before we get to that?" John asked. What could he do with this energy? That was the question. He seemed to know instinctively there would be a greater intensity if it was happening to him, but a higher chance of it being overwhelming. But he wasn't so worried about that with Seb.

With Sebastian, he knew that he was safe. He knew that Sebastian would help him hold onto his essence, the thing that made John John in the midst of any sensation. "Let's wander and see some more of the sights."

He agreed, letting Seb lead the way, having a more discerning feel to what was going on around him. It reminded him of a state of hypervigilance. Things were progressing to a level of crystal clarity.

He was starting to process it, to process it more clearly, and he could feel it here and there. A submissive kneeling on the floor, with a fire collar wrapped around her neck, another bringing drinks to a table, feeling quite undead to John.

There was devotion, desire and then more complicated twisted emotions. Cravings for punishment, inability to separate love from cruelty. Things he hadn't considered to be part of the human psyche too closely.

The satisfaction of a dominant, with control wrapped around him, the flame bright lust of a true sadist flickering with uncertainty.

And relief, there was a sense of excitement and relief in so many of them, and John couldn't quite place that from an understanding place, but he felt it deep in his chest. "Do you want to meet locals or keep watching?"

"Both," John said processing the different emotion streams. "This is soft stuff by your standards yes?"

"It is, but I think I've already thrown you into the deep end here," Sebastian murmured, and he felt a stripe of pride just then, the other man nearly bubbling over with it.

That made him all the more determined it to deserve it. "I'm dealing. Just show me what you think I need to know.”

"You know what you need to know." Sebastian tilted his head slightly, and reached a hand down to squeeze John's loosely. "Come with me."

He didn't feel foolish holding onto Seb's hand as he followed. It was a grounding point and it scared him how dependent he had become on the other man. He knew it wasn't normal, it was like they had been together for decades not barely weeks.

It was easy, though, and John was going with it as Sebastian grinned over his shoulder at him, and started toward the door. "Seems the darker things are always in cellars."

He should be scared, post-traumatic stress from whatever happened, but Seb's confidence and pleasure carried him along.

"Yeah, I know about that." He'd been dragged to a few with Sherlock..

"This one won't be bad." There was odd soft glittering light in the distance, shining in the darkness, and that was better than other older memories.

He'd blurred out the details, but he remembered being secured and pain. Other people's pain. His pain. Never stopping. This was something else. "You sure about that?" he asked not resisting.

"I'm sure. This is more magic based, more interesting, deeper. You might think about what you can do with what you see. I'm hoping it'll give you ideas..." He kept a hold on John's hand as they reached the bottom, a cavernous room strung with lights to the ceiling, a soft glow. And there were people, people on racks and people strapped to horses and so much moaning.

"Fuck." John could feel the pain of it, but something else ,moving as well. A different energy, a different focus. Brightness entwined in things. "What is that?" Patterns of light, of shadow, of blood.

"Sacrifice. That thin line of real, real sacrifice. It's like spice in the air for me," Sebastian murmured. "Giving up trust and control in one's personal god, over and over."

"But they are doing things with it," John said fascinated watching shapes forming and reforming. "I can see something." Not just that but he suspected if he needed to, he could suck this place dry. He touched a shimmering energy in the air, and he was instantly hard and ultra-aroused. The ache of want and need, the feelings, so overwhelmingly deep and intense started to flow through him.

"Someone's orchestrating it for show. It's play." Sebastian lifted his free hand, brushed against a different one. "Oh. Bugger, that's a nice one. Could be a lust creature. Want creates more want, and someone's rolling around on the floor in orgasmic energy glee. No one loses."

Play, but it could be more. And there it was again, that feeling of drawing energy in, but this time it was visible. The energy streams started a lazy spin around him, like a weather system swirled into shape. John tried to clamp down on it, but he wanted it. He wanted all of it.

"Just relax into it," Sebastian cautioned softly. He leaned in closer to John, making it look like the energy and the playing lights was headed to him.

It was a darkly erotic energy, supercharged and John knew he was on the verge of getting irrationally aroused just from exposure to it. Mixed in it were people's experiences like flavours and spices and somehow he knew how to compress it, pack it, store it... another conditioned trait, but he was distracted by feelings. The sensation of floating completely helpless on the cruel edge of orgasm, the sensation of the heady control of power of holding someone there. The pleasure of what seemed so strange and intense to him from both sides of the power dynamic.

Eventually, he felt himself pulled at, and Sebastian was walking him away, toward a side room.
.
"C'mon, let's get you a bit more focused...”

John was sweating and shaking a little. "Oh my god.. I...I've just had the biggest crash course in kink you've ever seen." He felt drunk on it, but he was rapidly packing and folding and compressing the energy internally. Clarity was gradually reemerging, but he was still hard.

Sebastian leaned him up against a wall, and met his eyes, held his eyes as if he was looking to make sure it was still John in there.

“How is it?"

"Getting it under control," he said, determined not to lose it. "Fuck. I didn't even get up close." And the want was still there. The need.

"But you took it in," he countered, letting his hands idle own to John's hips, casual and intimately close and it was almost unbearable to have real contact after swallowing the kink experiences mentally.

He closed his eyes as a mass of conflicting desires flooded through him. "Seb.. I need you to do something. Anything. It's burning in me."

"Let it flow to me." He kissed him, thumbs hooking into John's waistband, and tugging down with care.

John kissed back, that spark of contact triggering an instantaneous reaction. "I want to give it to you," he murmured between kissing him. "I want you to do some of this."

"Which part?" He pressed thumbs against John's hip bone.

"Anything." Anything, anything would feel fantastic. "You want it, I need you to take it." And the echoes of gripping hands on hips and the next steps moved on.

"Which parts?" Sebastian licked his bottom lip, leaned in to kiss John harder again. "The leather strap? Cockring? Needles?"

God help him, even all of that felt like a good idea right now. John was getting desperate. "Any of it. All of it, I don't know. The memories, the feelings tell me it will be good, better than good, fucking awesome. I want you to do what you liked doing with your priests."

"I don't have any thorns here." It was a teasing tone, but Sebastian pushed him up against the wall and started to kiss him harder, pulling at his clothes.

"You...can have what you want," John murmured and just let the illusory magic he had used instinctively loose. He only gave it a nudge to do what Seb wanted as he helped to pull off clothing.

It was a small side room, and there was only so much privacy, but maybe the closed door would be enough. Sebastian was pushing him to lay down on a warm rock, and there were the furs again, a constant bedding solution in Sebastian's mind as he took what John let him have and shaped their circumstances now.

John was grinning at him. "You and your furs," he said even as he stole hungry kisses from Seb. He could see the way the energy was affecting Seb, and there was a constantly renewing source of energy to draw on just outside if he needed to reach for it.

He didn't reach for it, but it was there, if he wanted, and he might tap a little on the way out, but Sebastian was growing stronger, more grounded, and they were interacting better each time. "The way it should be," he intoned, smirking and biting briefly at John's lips before he leaned back, smoothing his hands down over John's wrists.

Seb always had a feline type grace about him when he moved like that and as saturated as he was in the sex energies, just that touch on his wrists made his body react.

And then the straps formed over them, pinning them in place as Sebastian inhaled deeply, letting a bit of claw out before scratching a circle around one nipple.

Never had he had such a reaction to something like a scratch. It was electrifying to the point he was wondering if he would end up coming if that was all Seb did to him. The straps were comfortable, and with the restraint, an exciting ache began to spread inside of him.

From himself, not anyone else, at being bound tight and watching Sebastian's slightly shifting features, his pure glee as he leaned down to lap his tongue across burning itching scratched skin before repeating the gesture.

"Oh my god." It was nearly an embarrassing whimper because Seb seemed to be able to transition his tongue from slick human, to rasping cat like as he felt like it. The feelings coming off of him were ...darkly magnificent.

He was relishing it, wallowing in John's restraint and his reaction, and that excitement fed back to John with energy and warmth behind it.

It was a little like having a shot of whisky - fiery, intoxicating and enough to leave him gasping. He was aware that almost as if keyed, some of the stored energy trickled out for Seb in direct connection to what he was doing.

"More?" Sebastian smirked, leaning back and pausing all sensation for a moment.

"Godammit, yes," John pulled at the binding because the sensation was maddening. Seb was right, he really was a gigantic pervert and that wasn't a bad thing.

"Anything at all?" Sebastian had a wicked gleam in his eyes as he traced his left nipple again, looking brilliant and thoughtful.

"Yes, yes anything," John agreed because Seb with that look in his eyes was so hot his mouth had gone dry and his muscles tensed with wanting.

He let his hands idle down to John's waist, and the binds on his wrists disappeared. "Turn over."

Well with any luck he could get some friction on his cock. He hastily complied. "Like that?"

The straps wrapped around his wrists again, tight, but leaving him enough room to turn his head. "There we go." He started to feel his way down to John's ass, stroking and pinching occasionally.

It wasn't hard enough to really hurt but enough to stimulate the nerves. The energy he pulled in was providing him with many different scenarios of what might happen next. "That feels good."

"Good." There was a firm slap against his arse cheek next, a judging touch.

It was sharp and more startling than really painful. "Mmm." John shifted slightly feeling his skin warm itself. It tugged at something internally too.

Sebastian repeated the gesture, clearly gauging his response, and the stinging started to turn to something more warming, something that made him want to squirm.

He tried a bit of that having enough leeway to wiggle. "That feels hot." In both senses.

"Good. We should do this with a strap and at home..." He brought his hand down again, three quick stinging slaps in a row, and he nudged John to spread his legs.

He did so. A strap sounded very interesting, and he groaned a bit at the pain element, conscious that it was doing something. Perhaps he had been keyed to take in others, but needed some sort of pain element to give it out? He wasn't sure. He remembered slashing his arms and the energy flowing back in Afghanistan.

The next slap hit between his asscheeks, a faint sting against his balls delivered delicately with just a couple of fingers.

"Holy crap!" John arched a bit at that. Again the vulnerability meant any sensation was enhanced and that area was very sensitive.

It was a softer hit, but Sebastian repeated it, three more times and then leaned down to kiss the underside of his balls, that rasping tongue making it ache more than soothing.

It was frustrating and yet something he wanted more. He could feel the tension building not just in his groin but in whatever this weird energy thing was he had. "Please Seb, do something...harder." He leaned up and he didn't know how Sebastian manifested it, like the furs and the straps, but he had a belt in his hand that John only knew about when he brought it down on his ass.

He yelped, shocked but ridiculously aroused by the strike, the sensation of the person in the club earlier coming to mind. It made his skin feel tight with energy, as if it was building up in a similar way to his erection, waiting to release. Sebastian ran the belt the other way, striking him harder, twice, and shifted into his knees to push into John.

It was like his brain was going to short circuit. He could feel Seb, his lust and need, the surge when he made unconscious whimpers. He could feel that unbearable tension both in his cock and around him, in him expanding with every strike. He felt some strange satisfaction at being in the position for Seb which he didn't quite get, but thought it might be a priest thing.

He was giving it up for Sebastian, spread out before him and giving pain and sex, and Sebastian brought the folded in half belt down against his ass again, hard enough to make John groan.

"Please Seb..." Seb enjoyed the sounds, he could feel that, was relishing his ass and his vulnerability to him. He was sweating with the effects of what he was doing and somehow this felt good. Better than good. Sebastian leaned down again licking his way up to John's asshole, tongue pressing. Completely different than the stinging burn that was slowly starting to fade.

John was unprepared for that -- with his main experiences with men being quickies, he wasn't entirely ready for the sensations that being rimmed leisurely was causing. His focus zeroed in that area so rapidly he actually banged his head as it dropped.

And Sebastian chuckled against his skin, repeating that long slow probing with his tongue. Sebastian was a God deeply experienced in orgies and sex, so it was little wonder that he would think of something like that.

"You're an evil… evil, oh god..." He shuddered, his eyes practically rolling back in his head at that teasing penetration.

"Sometimes," he agreed, voice husky as he looked up from between John's legs, or at least, John guessed. He could feel breath against his ass, and then Sebastian licked him again.

He yelped a little. "Dammit, please Seb, fuck me..." The tension was building again.

It had ebbed back, but now it was at the fore, and he wanted it so badly. "Beautiful words."

"You like me begging, I'm begging Seb, please..." He was spreading his legs as much as he could. "I want it, I need you."

"I want you. You're mine..." He grasped at John's hips, hauling him to his knees and positioning himself behind him.
.
"Yeah." He was unaccountably eager for it, the energy restless under his skin. Somehow he just knew the moment Seb started it would let the energy flow. He could let it all flow to him.

It was itching, roving to get free, and Sebastian pushed into him with slow care, spit maybe not enough but functional and he conjured up oil from the same place as the belt or, oh god, proper lube and slicking, that made the stretch and slide of dick into him so much better.

He gasped and felt the agonising nearness of it, and pushed back as hard as physically possible. There...something bright started to seep out of him.

It was like coming, except he couldn't already be coming, he'd just started, but it was a deep feeling of want and need and having as Sebastian pushed into and started to thrust in, groaning.

With every motion it was like some sort of gushing release burning through him, that had him panting incoherently. There were no words, just sounds. Moans and groans and half words as Sebastian pulled him close, back against his chest as he kept thrusting, clutching at him.

He was still tethered by his arms so it pulled on him but that was good. He couldn't move and that made the energy flood even faster. He just had to feel it, feeling Sebastian holding him, fucking him harder, taking the lead from John.

He disappeared into a haze of blissful releases, barely able to wonder if women got to feel this continual roll of surge and release as part of having multiple orgasms. Somewhere in there he came physically but it was all mixed up in the other sensations that made him go boneless.

Sebastian was laying against his back, warm and heavy, mouth pressed against his skin. "You're amazing."

John just lay there feeling buzzed and satisfyingly sated. "Okay, I'll give you the sex god thing," he managed after getting his breath back.

Sebastian hugged him tight for a moment before shifting to pull out. "Easier with a good partner. You were... Wow. You came energy all over me," he half laughed, still breathless.

"Well that just sounds.." Messy, and slightly kinky. "Uh, is it meant to do that?" John felt the tethers melt away and just rolled to get a hold of Seb. He loved the skin to skin contact, especially after something like that. That had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced before in his sexual life and frankly he wanted to keep hold of the man who could do that to him.

Sebastian relaxed into it, his body solid and warm against John's. "It can, technically. That was.... Amazing. We should probably get home."

"Mmm." John agreed. "Turns out I do kinda like this sort of thing. Though I think experiments ought to be done at your place."

"Yes. Want to go take a look around a bit more, or...?" John wasn't sure he wasn't going to get obsessively horny again and that was not what he wanted right now as he was processing what happened.

"Not right now." John answered. "I need to get a grip on this. That just completely swamped me."

"Home." Sebastian seemed deeply excited, humming with warmth as he hugged and held John tightly.

John grinned, surprised he didn't really feel wiped out himself. A little break and maybe they could explore a little more back in the privacy of Seb's place. It certainly made him feel like he had endorphins flowing all around his body and as if something had woken up inside of him. He wasn't a hundred percent sure how far he had progressed on learning his abilities, but he was starting to remember some of the tricks he had obviously been conditioned into using after he had been caught. There were hints of recollection around his instinctive responses and he was going to actively pursue that if he could. The fact that it felt pretty damn good too was not a bad thing and if he had to be in this life, then he was going to get good at it as soon as possible.

---

Chapter 5

Summary:

"They usually exude a field around them. Loki himself is unmeasured; Loki-sons are limited by their imagination, their ability to conceptualize." Sherlock scanned the area. "Or their ability to hide and use cameras."

"But what do they use as their fuel?" John said looking around trying to sense something different happening.

"Raw chaos. There's a minor Loki son in America who investigates serial killers, and reportedly he seldom even has to consume food. Murder is one form of chaos..." Sherlock seemed to be walking straight towards a CCTV waving his hand.

"Chaos... so destruction?" John looked around. "What the hell are you doing?" Chaos was relative, and difficult to pinpoint.

"Destruction, upset, confusion. Minor people with trickster blood work as cops, or in the stock market, because they're drawn to the things that fuel them. Some of them with stronger blood fully embrace their heritage, and the madness. They can will themselves to age, die, even live." He waved again and the cctv transformed into a bright orange blowfish.

Seb slept heavily, always had. Every once in a while, he'd find himself in his living room with an old book in his hands, but that wasn't terribly odd. No, it was normal, to forget nodding off while reading. This awakening was different.

He was sitting in front of a mirror and his brain was vaguely taking in the fact that it was speaking at him in a slight Irish lilt.

"...sure as fuck I can pull it off." The voice said and he became aware of dark, dark crazy looking eyes staring at him like the bloody black obsidian his father favoured. "If you are sure the stone is there. If you really want to move up the timeline."

He tilted his head down, but the motion felt like an echo of a gesture, not something he was making at all, and he wasn't sure how to reply to the narrow, crazed looking face in the mirror. "Yes."
He felt a surge of adrenaline because that was not his voice coming from his mouth. It was jarring, and he swallowed, struggling for a moment to snap right into control of himself, fighting a non-responsiveness to motion before he found his own voice again.

The dark-haired man paused, a hungry curiosity in his expression as he tilted his head quizzically. "Why are your usual mists parting?" he asked and then a smile curved as he started to chuckle and then laugh. "Oh, oh Tze, I love your style. " The laughter was somewhat manic. "This is your vessel?"

"Yes." He supposed his voice shifted, he didn't know, but he knew his father’s rattling deep timbre, knew his own voice was a mellower tenor. He didn't sound like bones rasping in an ancient tomb.

"He looks like fun." The man leaned forward. “I do have a thing for tall lean and blonde. I think it's my Nordic roots." He was studying him lasciviously and without any shame.

"My flesh and blood’s current favoured form." The deep rattle was amused, and he struggled harder. "You may have him when I am done."

"Oh, it seems he is fighting you... your voice wavered. Will he remember this? Helloooo gorgeous." He gave a strange little wave at the mirror.

"He's grown in power. My directive to you will suffic--fuck you." He grasped, a seizure of a motion, fighting his father hard.

"Yes, yes, I will take care of it. But I am the best obviously." He grinned. "Well tall blonde and gorgeous... What's your name? I'll try not to kill you." There was something dark and fascinating about the other man, mesmerizing in the way expressions flitted across his face and the intensity of his gaze

"You need to stop this, you’ve never fought an Outsider, it's too dangerous to do this..." He was struggling still, but his voice was his even if his hands were tightly knotted on his lap as if they were battling their own civil war.

"Fight an Outsider, what a novel idea," the other man smirked. "Why would we do that Tze hmm?" The mesmerizing eyes seemed to be sharp as fractured black diamonds, rainbows on petrol.

Moving, swirling, and Sebastian knew what that was, what it looked like in genius but not in evil. "Because even a trickster can't abide that much chaos. What's your name?”

"I have many names," the man replied airily. "I think you can call me Jim. Or Moriarty… oh yes, that will make our dhampir friends implode." He grinned again.

"Moriarty. You'll die if you do this." He didn't know how to talk someone off of whatever his father had compelled the man to do.

"Really? Life can be a bit dull can't it?" Moriarty said, manifesting a cigarette. Seb had Deja vu - he felt like this when he was in the same room as the Holmes’ - that he was acutely aware that he was in the presence of someone who could outthink him one so many levels it was embarrassing. He was abruptly aware that whatever was left of his father might well have misjudged this situation.

Vastly misjudged it, and Sebastian took a breath, knowing that hiding wasn't an option and keeping the creature talking was. "I am Tepeyollotl, the Mountain Heart, and I've seen what the Outsiders do. Even you would wish you could undo this if you help this creature through."

"Why would you think I would help anyone?" he said with a smile. "Well I have enough to be going on with, enough to do what needs to be done..."

Shit, if he left, he would be lost to them. Lost, and no hope of getting him to come back. "Then think to save your own skin." And maybe a few more would survive by accident. Gods, why were there some people who would set fire to themselves just to watch the world burn?

"And forfeit the great game?" He said smiling. "Gods eh? They think they have infinite power. Shame that goes along with infinite stupidity!"

Childish and whimsical and careless more like, but Sebastian watched him terminate the connection, and sucked in an unsteady breath before looking around for his cell phone. Fucking mirrors.

His father, his bloody father had screwed up big time and he had been using his body to do it. Too used to being the big ‘I am’ and the master manipulator he probably couldn’t imagine coming across someone who could manipulate him. Because he knew what he saw, his father might think he was in control but once glance had told him otherwise. How long had this been happening? Fuck it.

Too long, too long if it was for a moment, and he pawed around for a moment, desperate to call John and then alert Holmes. Maybe the best thing to do was throw clothes on and walk across the street, bang on the door until they let him in.

He wished then John was staying the night, but fuck. Who was he kidding Holmes would be up, he was a half-breed vampire. He pulled on jeans, a top, jacket and slipped on shoes. Good enough.

He found his phone, grabbed his keys, and then moved fast, before whatever his father had managed took hold again. While he still remembered every word that was said. There was only one explanation for why he had started to remember now when he had never noticed before.

It was the extra energy John had been feeding him. A steady diet of rich, glorious energy that made him feel so alive and powerful and enough to spare that he could store it. It had to be that which had made him wake up. He was the bloody leak they had been looking for after all.

There wasn't much traffic in the middle of the night as he ran across the road, and was lucky he was keyed to the wards at the door. Knocked, knowing it might wake their landlady, too, but hell. It was an emergency and he'd learned enough.

"John, get the door!" He heard Sherlock shout upstairs. "John!"

"For fucks sake Sherlock it's 3 in the morning." John complained.

"It's your pet cat, you open it."

"Fine."

He then heard someone coming down the stairs and the door opened, and he had to resist a feline instinct to try and rub himself all over John who was a bit bleary eyed. "Seb? Something wrong?"

"Yes. I, we need to talk now, Sherlock too, I've been sleepwalking." It was a rush, but he knew why it was important. Once he sat down and his skin stopped feeling like it was crawling.

"Okay, come upstairs." John looked tousled and mussed as he headed up the stairs. "I'll make tea. Sherlock, Seb has a problem."

"That is not news."

"Fuck you. My father's been wearing me when I sleep. This is a problem," he countered, "and I've seen the enemy."

"You have?” John said but was railroaded by Sherlock who showed a hint of superhuman speed as he responded.

"Describe him. Every detail," Sherlock said curtly getting up and staring intently at him as if that was going to help.

"Oil slick eyes, pale, black hair, big eyes, manic look to him, trickster. He said he'd get the stone and they were moving the timeline up. That..." He racked his brain for a moment. "He could pull it off if my father was sure the stone was there. He said he had Nordic roots. He knew about you and your brother."

"A name, did he give a name?" Sherlock was impatient and intense, and John just brought him over the cup of tea made how he liked it.

"Well Nordic roots would fit in with the whole son of Loki thing," John pointed out. "Looked up some of that at Paul's."

"Moriarty. Jim Moriarty. He was making it up, said the dhampir brothers would shit themselves. He's a pure Trickster, conjuring up smokes and warping reality around him at ease." He sat down, still flustered, and angry that his father had been not just in him but wearing him like a fucking puppet.

The reaction from Sherlock was immediate. "Moriarty? You are sure he said that? describe what he looked like."

"I did, I thought. Black hair, small man, petite, big eyes, manic look to him." Sebastian took a sip of the tea and looked over at John to make sure that he wasn't cracking up and losing his words.

"Moriarty." It was a hiss and the dhampir started pacing. "That changes the complexion of things."

"I take it that this is bad?" John asked.

"A trickster you know." He'd already thought it was a threat to the seals that kept the end of the world at bay, and now because Sherlock had a name to go with it, it was worse?

"Moriarty is more than just another trickster," Sherlock said. "He has something minor deities and other kind seem to lack. Intelligence. Genius. He is perhaps my equal in that regard."

"Wow, that is ...something else," John said staring at Sherlock in actual surprise. "Sherlock admitting someone is on a par with him."

There was probably more than the trickster who was on par with him, but they couldn't be arsed to play games with a dhampir. Still, he kept his mouth shut and took another sip of tea. "Well, he's working for my father."

"Wrong!" Sherlock's voice rang out. "Wrong, wrong, wrong. Moriarty never works *for* someone!" He seemed agitated. "Rest assured that your father might have thought he was in control, but no one controls Moriarty."

"Then he's set off a chain of events that pleases him. It's the same in the end. What the fuck's this guy done to get you so bloody wound up?"

"He is more dangerous than any adversary you have faced," Sherlock's eyes glowed. "He has dangled your father on a string, you have been his sidekick, his... flunky without even knowing. If you feel this is melodrama, mention his name to the Woman, and see her run back to her Faerie Hill."

"... Is that a promise?" Sebastian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "How about some straight explaining and less bloody flailing. He's no trickster I've ever seen before."

John had touched his arm, to give him his cup of tea and paused. "That's him, that the man I saw Sherlock with in the vision. Dancing off the top of a building."

"It seems trite to say I have a nemesis, but we fulfil that role for each other," Sherlock said. "Over the decades, the centuries we have...done things. Half the time I win, half the time..." He could not seem to say he lost. "Moriarty is the single most dangerous other-kin in existence. He may not be the most powerful, but he has no inhibitions. No human inhibition to his love of chaos. Do you understand what that means?"

"It means the idea of opening a portal for an Outsider makes him very happy. I tried to talk him out of it already," Sebastian added, still leaning forward.

"Any luck?" John asked hopefully.

"It means that we cannot assume reason, logic, or humanity will contribute in any way to the game Moriarty is playing." Sherlock said.

"Not a damn bit of luck. So, he's..." Sebastian shrugged his shoulders a little, struggling with the concept that was coming together in the back of his mind. "Then he's old style. When gods roamed the earth as headless torsos with snapping ribcages just because it gave them a giggle?"

"There is not a word to describe him," Sherlock said. "He succeeds too easily, he becomes bored. " Very much like Sherlock then. "He would be attracted to the chaos your father is. One of the only Trickster Gods to rise to the top of a pantheon.

"That's all I've ever known. It's not so strange to me and my pantheon." He rubbed a hand back through his hair, and looked sideways at John. "The stone is an actual stone. Sounded like they were planning a jewel heist."

"Ah. Of course." Sherlock sat down, steepling his fingers, gazing into nothingness, and John sighed.

"Well, that'll be him shut up for a bit. Are you okay Seb?"

"I can't tell anymore what is me and what isn't. The trickster said he'd never seen me before, so he was communicating with my father exclusively through mirrors. While I slept." And what was there to do but to be deeply unsettled by that knowledge? It had been bad enough knowing that his father was in him slumbering, but to now know it was so much worse and that he was the leak and that his father was probably listening to their conversation right now…

John put his arm around him. "What was different this time?" he asked. "I mean, you were separated this time, right?"

"I woke up in the middle of their talking. It felt like someone had left the TV on and there was a low-level noise that I just needed to turn off and there I was sitting in front of the mirror. I fucking..." He shrugged his shoulders tightly, a repetitive gesture, but he was at a loss for anything else to do at that moment because his position had always been subsistence.

"I think the fact that you have to be asleep for him to take control means you are the dominant force in your body. And I can tell you, he's never once surfaced when I've stayed over," John frowned. "Maybe he can't?"

"He's probably been communicating with Moriarty less since I met you." Which meant Moriarty was comfortable with the general plan and possibly interested in doing it whether his father was involved or not.

"I think since you've been getting more energy, and it's going directly to you Seb, not him, " John said. "I think you are naturally pulling away, separating yourself."

"Only took a millennia." And John. And John was Mortal, which usually didn't hit him with people he considered his until it was too late.

"Well, it must have been difficult trying to feed for two," John said with a faint smile. "If we power you up some more maybe we can do something to evict your father?"

"Might." he shifted, and put an arm around John's shoulders. "I have been living resigned to slowly fading away for a very long time. And you do have a head full of ideas that I never thought of or even thought would help."

"Look, as far as I can tell, I'm not sure it matters who is in charge, this Moriarty or your father, what matters is that it is happening," John murmured. "And we have another clue -- the stone is a literal stone. I guess we could start hitting the databases for south American origin stones? Jewels? That happen to be in London? Because it can't be coincidence that you are here."

"I've been in London for a very long time. Jewels, we had, we had emeralds in the empire, if this is something that came of and from us..." Opals, obsidian, there were a lot of options…

"It's likely to be impressive though isn't it?" John asked. "Not something you are going to find in an ordinary jewellery box. Might be time to hit the internet for clues. Something like that is bound to have a record."

"Up to it now?" He wasn't sure he could get back to sleep after that and Sherlock seemed to be in a brain stupor.

"Mm, I'll fire up the laptop," John said shifting to get up. "There has to be something."

"Something challenging to get back. And we need to work out what he does with it after he gets it. If it's a literal breaking of a seal, or..."

"Precious stones in London," Sebastian mused, glancing over at Sherlock.

"Oh please, don't waste the internet’s time. We have three possibilities - the Cambridge Emerald collection, the Seringapatam set or Teodore, the largest Emerald in the world," Sherlock said doing sarcastic air quotes at that description. "I only include that as the actual identification of Emerald is in dispute, but purportedly there was a black panther attack when it was being transported from the mine in South America. I'm not even convinced it is in this country and to be fair, your father could have stolen that himself. Not exactly high security."

"Something that would have taken me here 500 years ago. And India, I've been to India repeatedly." His shoulders tensed back up at Sherlock’s interruption of what had been a thought-provoking conversation.

"That applies to both," John said having rapidly looked up to two sets Sherlock mentioned. "Rumour has it that the Cambridge Emeralds were part of Indian royalty stones and the Seringapatam stones were apparently meant to have something to do with the overthrow of the Tipu sultan. Uh, they’re in the Victoria and Albert museum. I think the others are with the Crown Jewels."

"And either would be dicey to get, unless getting isn't the point." Emerald was likely, and he needed to think of what the ritual might've been. "And I can't let him get to Moriarty again."

"Your father would not have needed Moriarty if it were not difficult to retrieve," Sherlock said with his eyes closed.

"Yes, and now because of me he knows that we know that they're after one of two sets of jewels. I can't be allowed alone anywhere in any situation where he would have the freedom to talk to Moriarty." And that was frustrating because he was alone a great deal, he enjoyed his time to himself, even if his first instinct had been to find John when everything went wrong. He needed to tell Paul, and they both needed to tell Mycroft.

"Oh please, stop the self-flagellation, you'll probably get a hard on," Sherlock said dismissively. "Moriarty would not resist the opportunity to engage me in such a game. He would have found a way to get me involved. However, this gives me more time to plan though less than I would have hoped."

"Now he knows he's liable to step things up to reduce your advantage?" John asked.

"Very good John, you do have your moments."

Sebastian shook his head. That was why Sherlock and Mycroft were bastards to deal with, they didn't take into account anything but the case or the mystery. "Then as you're already ten steps ahead of us, now what?"

"I suggest that you two concentrate on finding a means of separating you from the essence of your father," Sherlock said. "I will speak with my brother."

"Solves that then." He finished off his tea, watching John poking at the computer then. "Probably should wait a couple of hours before we shake down Paul for help."

"Is he likely to be able to do something?" John asked. "Like an exorcism or something?"

"He'll know who might be able to come up with a ritual to pry us apart. You can't... really exorcise a god. But you can drive them out." He rubbed a hand over his face.

He wasn't sure if it could be done easily - demons could be banished by invoking a god's power, but gods... Gods usually could only be defeated by other Gods.

"I'm going back over with Seb then," John replied. "We'll head over to Paul’s in a bit."

"Yes, yes. Don't get distracted sniffing each other’s nether regions." Sherlock waved a hand in distraction, dismissal, and Sebastian shook his head, standing up smoothly.

"Home, then. I'm going to hide all the mirrors."

John only stopped long enough to put on shoes. "We can do that. I can make sure he doesn't come back if he doesn't come out while I am around."

Sebastian leaned in, feeling relief for a moment, in a way he couldn't quite explain. There was an inherent security in John’s presence keeping back his father's possession that he needed and wanted. "No, he doesn't. You haven't seen him."

"So logically there should be a reason for that, and I guess a reason why I'm off limits to him," John said reassuringly. "Maybe we can use that. Or I can do something."

"You'll notice." Sebastian opened the door, waited for John to step out onto the stairs with him. "That would be enough, maybe."

"Fingers crossed. I'm getting better at shielding, maybe I can look into doing something active, some of the magic you are talking about." John said optimistically.

"You'd be better at it than I am. I miss the finer manipulations, even when I had the power." That was what happened when you were a warrior, when everything was gut and not knowledge. He knew the flows of battle like breathing but the things John had been doing were just not a natural part of his powers and skill set.

"As you keep telling me, we all have skills. "John said. "Come on, let's get back to your place."

He kept him close, everything still feeling loose and bony at his core. Not as exhausting as both of them manifesting together to converse, but not good. The jog back across the street was quiet and he could see a few ghosts in the road, off at the distance. Better to be inside.

He was pretty sure that John was spending as much time with him as he was with Sherlock. His energy was something warm, solid and steady next to him. John just went and got a drink for them both and then dragged him back to the bedroom. "No wonder you get tetchy in the morning."

"I've been mentally mugged all evening," he groused, settling on the edge of the bed to get his shoes off. Might as well doze and talk for a couple of hours before Paul woke up.

John covered the mirror, and gave him a drink. "Here, have one. I want to make you feel better, see if I can use this energy. Might be able to do something."

He glanced at the mirror, the shirt thrown over it, and started to ease out of his own shirt. "What're you thinking of?"

"Well if he's been here recently, I'm hoping to be able work out his energy and put up a barrier or mental alarm that will bring you to consciousness if he tries something." John said. "I know I can’t tackle him directly, but I might be able to make sure you can."

"Paul couldn't feel any energy but me. But you're... More sensitive." He sat still, watching John, hoping he was reaching into the room and seeing if there was a difference between him and his father, but John very quickly approached him.

"Lie back, I want to touch you," he said climbing on the bed next to him and smiling a moment.

He laid down, holding the sheets and the furs back for John to join him, letting his walls slip a little. The room was crisp, and the bed was comfortable with John in it with him.

The warmth when John touched him was soothing and relaxing. Tension melted away, and he wondered how John managed to get this skilled in such a short space of time. Other sensitives would have crumbled by now - often did after they came online. It was quite often an indicator they looked for in background checks. But then John was different from many of them, and he was his and his jaguar instinct wanted to mark him, so everyone knew.

"Mm, I can feel you at least."

Seb sighed, and tucked his head in, clutching John close. "Never met anyone like you before."

"Is that a compliment?" John chuckled moving his hands slowly over his skin and they were incredibly warm and relaxing. "Oh wait, hold on, never felt that before but… it's faint but it's there. Like trying to find the end of the Sellotape."

"Keep picking at it," Sebastian murmured, holding him close and holding still in an attempt to make it easier. "It's a compliment."

"Well that's something. It's weird though," he said. "It’s like you can't see the join but you can feel it. Hold on let me see if I can catch it." There was a faint twitching sensation inside of him, a fluttering.

"Oh." He exhaled, twisting his head to the side a little. "Huh. Do that again."

"You feel it?" John looked at him. "I can put a bit more force in it, but I'm worried what it might do." He did it again regardless.

"Ummph, not sure what that is." He felt less like a fluttering and more like a tugging.

"That's the energy edge between the two of you. It's more distinct than it was," John said following the sensation around. "I'm not going to pull it yet; I want to speak to Paul and get charged up, but I can do this." It was like an icy white fire crawling around that weird line.

It made him want to itch and squirm, and instead he held tighter to John. "Maybe it's more distinct because I know it exists." Knowing, belief, these were powerful facets of their lives and in his case literally his meat and drink.

"I'm making it sensitive to a shift. So, if it tries to expand or shift or change, you will feel that sensation," John said and it looked like he was sweating. Unsurprising with the sheer concentration involved in that sort of manipulation.

That it would even come to his mind was astonishing, but he was probably looking at it from the doctor’s perspective. They did that, didn't they? They tagged things to track and deal with them in a triage format. "Okay." It would at least be a warning.

"You have enough power to override it consciously," John reassured him. "And this will bloody well wake you up if he tries it again."

"We should trade places. You're very good at this." He left a little, softly against John's skin still holding onto him

"Making it up as I go along," John said exhaled as he finished what he was doing. "You on the other hand can tear apart demons with your bare claws."

Sebastian loosened his grip and exhaled slowly, feeling the fire settle down when John stopped. "Yeah but most of the time I administer paperwork and fix squabbles."

"Your own fault for being a CO," John quipped obviously deciding he was a good pillow. "Maybe you're a PowerPoint mage."

"Oof, that's cruel," Sebastian laughed. He closed his eyes and shifted to better support John using him as a pillow. "I miss having a unit. The Others are more.... Squabbling."

"Come on, you liked having all your troops believing in you, and you believing in them," John said hitting the nail on the head. "The reason you survived, and others haven't is because you believed right back at people. Made them the best they could be."

"I did. I miss that. These Other-kin don't have that same ethos." He sighed, still holding onto John. "I'll take a break from it for a while." While John existed.

"I was nearly attached to your unit," John said yawning a little. "You missed out on seeing me as I really am." John obviously still thought of himself as a doctor. It was strange because he hadn't known him when he was doing what he considered to be the core of his life.

"We'll get you doctoring again. More regularly. Maybe more weirdly. Even people like us need Doctors." It was a shame John hadn't been in his unit.

"Everyone used to say I was the best field surgeon," John said contemplating. "Moved like lightning, knew what to do under pressure. I wonder how much of that was this… thing."

"This thing is you," Sebastian countered, "as much as your hair colour or your eyes."

"It's hard to get my head around that," John said. "I mean, when you read about these things the person usually goes' Oh, that explains everything!’ I don't feel much like that. It's like something thrust something at me that I can't drop."

"But you always had it in you. It's just from a different experience that you knew. You normalized it until it... Grew so strong and circumstances were so broken that it wasn't something you could weave into your life any longer." He shifted his fingers, petting at John's hair.

"Sounds like someone else I know," John said with a faint smile, and bugger if he hadn't manipulated Seb into saying what applied to him too.

He huffed a laugh, and kissed John's temple. "Arse. Fine, fine. I vaguely agree with what I just said. I still feel like a muppet."

"You don't need to feel a muppet when you've got me here to feel," John said grinning a little and enveloping him in amusement.

It was easy to relax with John, and he exhaled, sliding his hands down along John's sides to find his ticklish point.

"Ah, you bastard!" John spasmed as he ran his hands over that spot, trying not to laugh. He had to admit, his mind was almost completely diverted.

Almost. Good enough, and leaning in to nuzzle John's neck, kissing over to another sensitive spot felt just as good.

"I thought you were feeling wiped out?" John murmured back, not drawing away.

"And now I feel sleepy and less exhausted. You're a miracle worker." And the bed was warm, and John was warm, and he could do a lot with warm.

"Just by turning up. I can cope with that sort of miracle," John agreed, curling into him like a compact portable heat source.

"We should sleep a little before morning." It was going to be a hellish day, but now he felt he could at least fall asleep without walking away from himself.

"We can manage that. Think warm thoughts," John said and it was like he was lying next to a banked-up fire.

"You're gorgeous. Warm thoughts. Warm thoughts." He rubbed a hand along John's back, and slowly he started to ease back. Much as he would like to have done something, he really was sleepy from his rude awakening and his father’s illicit possession of his body. He curled instinctively around John’s warm, soothed and lulled by his scent and present into sleep once more.

---

John was glad for the sleep because only a few hours later both he and Seb had been rousted from bed by a hyped-up Sherlock, and then in quick succession Paul and Mycroft. It seemed that the timeframe had accelerated and then some because Moriarty had literally dropped in on Sherlock.

It was ridiculous the buzz that Sherlock was on after that -- higher than drugs. He could well believe in his vision now; those two would indeed whip each other up high enough to go right over the literal or metaphorical edge.

Trying to stop that, Mycroft had swept in and instructed Paul and Seb to go after the Crown Jewels Cambridge Emeralds, and himself and Sherlock to occupy Moriarty. The problem was, Sherlock was a little too good at detecting. At this rate they might actually catch him, unless that was a trick as well. Frankly he had no damn idea what was going on.

He was confused and he'd already witnessed things that seemed impossible -- every time they got close in their hunt for the man, the world around them veered sharply. Streets buckled, the sky changed colours, time seemed to move forward or back. It was like the world’s worst acid trip and he was aware hardly anyone could see it apart from any Other-kin.

"Concentrate John!" Sherlock snapped at him. "Do you think my brother sent you along just to bumble along uselessly?”

"I have no fucking idea what he was thinking, " John said trying to steady himself against a railing for what seemed like the tenth time. Maybe it was more, maybe it was less. The road was spinning under his feet as the streetlights melted in a dali-esque manner.

"Push back," Sherlock snapped. "He is chaos and you are reality."

"It would help Sherlock, if someone bothered to *tell* me these things," John said through gritted teeth as he tried to just… well, push back in some way.

He wasn't sure what pushing back felt like, and he struggled for a moment until he braced himself on the shifting ground and that was it, it seemed to solidify.

"There, I've done something," he said taking a deep breath. "Bloody hell Sherlock, where is the bastard?"

"Hard to say. He's better than any Other-kin I’ve ever heard of." Sherlock sucked in a breath, scanning the area.

"How close do you have to be to produce that sort of effect?" John asked. He had a stitch in his side from either the running or the pushing energy.

"They usually exude a field around them. Loki himself is unmeasured; Loki-sons are limited by their imagination, their ability to conceptualize." Sherlock scanned the area. "Or their ability to hide and use cameras."

"But what do they use as their fuel?" John said looking around trying to sense something different happening.

"Raw chaos. There's a minor Loki son in America who investigates serial killers, and reportedly he seldom even has to consume food. Murder is one form of chaos..." Sherlock seemed to be walking straight towards a CCTV waving his hand.

"Chaos... so destruction?" John looked around. "What the hell are you doing?" Chaos was relative, and difficult to pinpoint.

"Destruction, upset, confusion. Minor people with trickster blood work as cops, or in the stock market, because they're drawn to the things that fuel them. Some of them with stronger blood fully embrace their heritage, and the madness. They can will themselves to age, die, even live." He waved again and the cctv transformed into a bright orange blowfish.

He belated realised that Sherlock had baited a specific reaction and hastily concentrated, feeling the bloom of chaos energy, and a tiny fine thread drifting off at an angle to the east. "East," he said.

"Good. Brilliant, John, brilliant. Now, hold onto that firm feeling and let's go." He started off, right along the thread, as if he could feel it himself

It was like there was something twitching the line moving. It occurred to him that they could get over focused. "What if he knows we can track him?" he muttered.

"Then we're headed into a trap," Sherlock said, and maybe John was hallucinating the light tone to his voice.

"Do you want to maybe think about this a bit?" John said even as Sherlock sped up in response to his gesture.

"To give him time to get to the stone, or time to make the trap more complicated? Do keep up, John..."

"Sherlock." John could feel it getting closer and grabbed hold of his shoulder. He was suddenly completely sure this fulfilled his first vision. "Sherlock, you have taken up his dance, like in that vision. I know it. It'll take you to a fall and trigger everything."

He stopped, slowed, and looked over his shoulder at John. "And you think it should not go that way?"

"Sherlock, you fall. He falls too but the sun is consumed by a wolf that fills the sky and then there is darkness and that thing... " John said, feeling fear grip him. "Surely that isn't the best outcome. We are meant to be stopping this."

"And we are. We'll stop this by following him and interfering." Sherlock was firm, and he didn't seem the least bloody scared.

John could not believe it. He was frankly as terrified as he had been in all the times, he had to head out into a live fire med--evac. "I hope you have a plan, Sherlock, because I sure as hell don't."

"I have a plan. Your plan is to pay attention and follow me." Sherlock smiled at him, a dazzling thing, and then kept along the thread John had plucked.

He had no choice; Sherlock was off and running again and he was hard pushed to keep up. There were times that Sherlock's heritage gave him advantages and speed and strength were part of that, although he was usually too disdainful of the physical to use it that often. They were winding their way through London, and it became obvious where they were headed. Crown jewels, it had to be. Towards Seb and Paul's stake out.

Into a trap of their own that they were trying to lay, and in a way, it felt good to be right about his hunch. For the stone to have not been metaphorical but an actual stone, an emerald that Moriarty must be going after. That Sebastian's father had likely tried to find before but had lacked the resources to get himself.

From what he heard from Sherlock; he had no doubt that Moriarty would know exactly which Emerald would be the ritual stone. What was worrying was the fact he was rampaging through London, with them in hot pursuit, heading towards a building already staked out. If he got inside? Then what? They would have troops around the place rapidly.

And it might not matter. John knew that, because Moriarty could probably do the ritual without help from the Smoking Mirror. He knew enough to do it all without him, probably knew more about the ritual than they did just then. Sebastian had said it would be simple ---- a circle of blood, to seal the power of the stone and focus it, and smashing it inside the circle to unlock the Seal and open a portal.

It was bloody difficult to text and run but he managed to get a garbled message off to Seb. His lungs were burning with effort as he could see the Tower of London up ahead.

He got a ping back, and didn't have time to look, but it didn't feel panicked, more acknowledgement, and he had to go with it. Sebastian had overwatched with Paul and if they were still there, there was nothing to intervene at right now. They might make it. They might get there in time to stop things kicking off.

"Maybe, maybe it's a false trail?" John managed as the crowds forced them to slow. There were no signs of panic, nothing out of the ordinary, only the feelings inside his own head screaming out in dread and horror of a nameless threat he seemed to be sensing.

"That's pure energy you're feeling, and you can't fake that."

"There's no disturbance." This close he could feel Seb starting to impinge on his awareness standing out like a beacon. "He's here somewhere. I can pick up Seb and Paul."

"He's disguised himself. They can't hide their eyes, though..." Sherlock started to look through the crowd, his head jerking, quick motions. "Damn, damn..."

"You can hide your eyes pretty easily without magic," John snapped back. "It's not like you can't get cheap sunglasses pretty much everywhere. He'll head for the Emerald?"

"Absolutely." Sherlock moved towards where the tourists were. Right, well. Then they needed to get in to see the jewels.

He had forgotten that Sherlock had some sort of hypnotic effect on people, either that or he bullshitted so fluidly he managed to astonish people enough that they just let him pass. One or the other. Somehow, he was just pushing his way through the queue, over towards a fire exit. "If I'm right..." he was saying even as an alarm went off.

"And you're not," Sherlock smiled, moving up the stairs with John knowing he had to follow him, even as everyone else seemed to be in a panic to come down them.

Trigger the alarm, everyone ran and they were running against the tide. He could hear echoing laughter and he grimaced. "He's happy - speed it up, we need to intercept him before he does anything.

"Oh, it's too late. Now we can only hope to use the ceremony against him."

That made no sense to John, that jarring dissonance he remembered in the first days of logic crying out against the information he was being told. Why the hell was Sherlock running so gleefully to his predicted death? He rushed on after barely a moment's thought, determined that if Sherlock were going to fall, someone was going to have to try and grab his fool hand and haul him to safety.

This was ludicrous. John was keyed up, frustrated and half terrified. Sherlock was acting like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He started to think Sherlock was being deliberately slow to make sure they would have their confrontation. Sherlock knocked the security to the ground even as they heard gunshots and screams up ahead and the panic began in earnest.

He didn't know who was shooting, or at what, except that Sherlock barged ahead while John was all too aware of how much a bullet hurt.

They reached the top landing, and he felt a thrumming in the floor. The air was starting to throb around them, and strange unearthly chanting seemed to be on the cusp of hearing. Where the hell was Seb and Paul? He didn't have any chance to check because he just ploughed straight on in to where the jewels were kept...and the metallic stench of fresh blood was overwhelming.

"Aww, the idiot battlemage unlocked all the doors after all. Shame about that, my blood circle could have done with a few more bleeding out bodies. Sherly, do come closer..." Singsong and firm, a lilting Irish tenor that made John's ears ache a little, and he wasn't sure why. They moved past the first sets of display cases towards a circle of blood, and the bodies, still twitching, maybe still in the last throes of death, that had helped create it.

John could feel it, with whatever this new sense was, that the circle of dead and dying created energy swirling like a building vortex. He recognised it too, flashbacks to his incarceration, to the demon trying to open the gates of hell and failing. Trying and trying, and yet here was Moriarty making it look effortless and apparently finding it hilarious.

“Why?!” He yelled out feeling helpless. All this death just like that and more to come. The sense of impending doom was like a physical blow.

"Because it is effortless. They were petty little, unthinking things. Primal, blood in their nostrils and fear of what was on the other side in the backs of their teeth. And in dying all that beautiful energy of fear, destruction and death created a wonderful lock for my emerald key." He stood up straight, smiling at them both. "You're too late."

"You are destroying everything." John shouted irrationally angry as he tried to find a way forward. The circle seemed to be pushing them back.

"He knows that John," Sherlock said watching the other man like a hawk. "There is no such thing as too late Moriarty."

The trickster let emerald dust fall from his hand to the floor. "Oh, but there is. The stone is broken, and our friend is coming through." The rumbling continued, low, rhythmic, and Moriarty seemed to hum along as if he was listening to a favourite tune on the radio not the death knell of the world.

The horror and intensity in the room jumped up sending John gasping, staggering against Sherlock as something started a terrible opening right there in front of them. A tear in the fabric of reality that hurt all his senses just by existing and he wanted to run as far and as fast from this unnatural magic, bit forced himself to stay.

"You will destroy everything!" John choked out. Where the hell was Seb? In his peripheral energy he could sense him running closer and he wanted to tell him to run and be safe, but there would be nowhere safe. Even now the faintest wisps of energy emanating from the tear plucked at his sanity with their madness and compulsion.

Seb was coming, but he wasn't sure what help it would be. "Don't worry. I might keep you both alive after this to amuse me."

"Liar," Sherlock said. He seemed to be studying the circle intently, looking for weaknesses. John felt the horror jump as the air itself melted in a dali-esque nightmare, dripping and contorted and he just felt bloody helpless. How could he stop this insanity? This was a rip in the air, what sort of bloody suturing would work on that?

Moriarty was laughing maniacally, doing something complex with gestures and magic weaving and yelling out to Sherlock. "Your move Sherlock… oh wait you don't have one, do you?"

“Stand down!” Paul’s voice bellowed over the harmonics of chaos magic as he and Seb ran into the room.

John was momentarily distracted by the blazing presence of Seb running into the room, and instinctively turned his head to speak and in doing so completely missed Sherlock grabbing his shoulder and with his half--breed vampire strength tossing him bodily through the air, at a specific tangent at a place where the circle was weak.

Flailing and too shocked and betrayed to do anything he tumbled headfirst into the aperture portal to the Outside, realising with cold desperate dread his vision was coming true in all aspects.

---

He'd just set foot in the room in time to see Sherlock throwing John into the rift, watching John's shock in the midst of simmering madness, and melting walls, and eyes creeping out of corners like magpies all fluttering and black and white. The moment seemed to pass in slow motion, a shot of madness that made no sense in any context as he looked at Sherlock and practically screamed at him, "The fuck did you do?!"

What did throwing John into the sensitives equivalent of an acid bath help anything or anyone? Fucking hell, he needed to get him back, he was his, his priest, his John… He started moving even as Sherlock replied.

"Stop asking inane questions." Sherlock yelled back. "Do not let it out, whatever you do, don't let it out!"

Moriarty shrieked with pure manic rage as if he had in a few seconds deduced the shape of something Sherlock had planned. "No. It won't work!”

None of that shit made sense to him - don't let it out, what wasn't he supposed to let out? but John, John had been thrown into the rift and he couldn't let it happen. Not John.

He flung himself at the same point, hard, his shoulders tight, because, fuck, John. He was barely conscious of the fact that as he did so, Sherlock was making a similar leap toward Moriarty, before he passed through into the Outside. It was terrifying. Every atom, mote of his being was dipped in an acid fear, a hideous torment that declared this place Wrong. They’d made a mistake when John had reported his first vision. They’d underestimated how shaken John had been from his vision, believing it to be a novice's first reaction. But this… this was beyond even the hellmouths he had stood over.

This was being inside of it, his body shaking with terror and confusion as he took a step forward and then another into a world of chaos, of molten stone that was arching around him, looking for John.

If it was having this effect on him, a god of sorts, it would be tearing a mortal mind apart. He couldn't allow that to happen, not to John, not his priest, his Beloved.

And then something else tore at him. The shivering cold sensation that John had put up as a warning system in his body for the rising presence of his father trying to possess him again trembled, then started building inexorably. Around him, black billowing smoke wisped out of every pore leaving him feeling filthy and tainted where it exited. There was no stopping it, and he needed it to stop, needed to be able to move, and focus, and get to John before something happened to him, because the floor that he was standing on wasn't a floor, it was air.

Something glittering like mirror shards spun out of the void seemingly attracted to the black mist like poles of a magnet and coalesced into a very familiar shape. He wanted to snarl instinctively. His father, his fucking father, his fractured self-reunited ripping out of him to come together with the parts of him left in the Outside millennia before.

Seb struggled then, to try to shake himself of any pieces that were in him, to help the bastard along and get him out of him. "You selfish bastard." And in the confusion, his voice sounded old, different, his language changed, and his tones the pulse of stone.

"Tepeyollotl," his father spoke to him in the old tongue, his voice the hiss and growl of the Night Sun. "Finally. You always were slow in understanding."

"I understood. But I didn't *understand* you. They're a beautiful world, why would you destroy it for yourself? Everything in it is beautiful." From the blades of grass to the big creatures that he'd roamed with when he switched over, it was a good world. And the smart, so smart people. John. Always John.

"World can be rebuilt. Destroyed and rebuilt. We fight, my brother and I and the world ends, and the world begins. " The Smoking Mirror dropped into a fearsome visage of command that he remembered from the wars of gods and men back in his distant past. "Leave now. It is our chance. The Outsider comes. Your own losses are reunited with your form, you are whole once more. We have both benefited from this gamble."

Fuck him for trying to make him grateful for being complicit in nearly bringing the end of the world or worse. The Outsiders would suck the marrow from their world and leave it a husk before spreading a blight onwards through the universe. He didn’t know how he could stop it, but he was a Jaguar and he knew how to fight for his territory and what was his.

"Go. I'm looking for what's mine." He darted away, searching for the feeling of John in the Void, and there it was, a tiny feeling that pulsed John John John back at him as he pushed past something turgid and silvery in the air.

"No mortal can survive here," his father said. "You are a fool my Heart of the Mountain. What was yours, will be no more. Leave with me. We shall rebuild the scoured Earth together!"

"A moment." He dove down, and moved and didn't move at the same time, travelling fast like swimming in the ocean and going nowhere but closer to John at the same time, until he could reach out and touch him with a hand.

His father fled. Fucking ran away and his memories so long suppressed by his presence returned but he didn't give a shit. All he wanted was to reach John. So close, so near and there he was, he could touch him… And beneath them, a leviathan moved in the darkness. The Outsider emanating insanity, agony and a darkness that would devour all things was reaching for them.

"John." Useless, he was useless and underpowered, and everything made him shiver and ache, and he felt cold, but kept diving down for John. Everything was ruined, and all he could focus on was him.

"Seb." It was something broken and gasping and then John screamed, a terrible horrific sound. He'd heard that sound on the battlefield, of a mortal injury. He was too late; the Outsider had its claws into John’s mind. A God--Devourer...mortals would be defenceless.

He kicked hard, struggling to reach John, and he saw it, eyes and teeth and eyes on the fucking teeth, crawling tentacles and claws and a ragged fear surrounding it in a dense choking miasma. "John."

He grabbed for his hand, his fear ancient and the horror of the original conflict returned to his mind. The moment that his hand connected with John's he could feel it. John had gone into survival mode, drawing everything in, trying to process the overload of dark energies that was bombarding and saturating him. An ordinary sensitive would have their brains leaking out of their ears by now, and he could only hope John’s unique nature would buy him some resistance.

"Seb?" He wasn't sure if it was a voice in his mind or not, but it meant he was alive.

Or some part of him was alive and that was all that mattered. He clutched hard at John's hand, pulling him in so they could turn and flee. "We'll go. Come with me." Before teeth and sucking pain finished them off.

~You are mine godling~ The meaning arriving in his mind made his nose bleed as the Outsider impressed its ancient dark will upon him like a hammer blow to the face. ~A morsel for my hunger~ Something grabbed him then, something immensely powerful reading his most secret fears and weaknesses. There was no hope, no stopping this. They needed to flee, but they were to be fed on, pulled apart with malicious deliberation, body mind and soul.

"Seb, oh god… Seb..."

A total failure, he couldn't even save John, never mind the world. "Hold on." It would end quickly. It would end quickly, and he wrapped his arms around John to try to stave it off and protect him with the last shreds of his existence.

John was shaking, but even as something looped around them crushing them in coils of slime and scale, he managed to raise his arms. "Claws..." His voice was barely audible from the screams that had torn apart his vocal chords but he was practically demanding something in desperation.

Claws. John wanted them to go down swinging, and he would have laughed if he could've managed it, breathing out in a struggle before he unfurled his claws, feeling himself slip over towards his Jaguar self.

But then he surprised him. The claws were out, and John pushed his arms against them and then yanked them away and Seb had a brief moment to recognise the sacrifice ritual John had been taught that bound an energy transfer to one only so it could not be taken by any other being. With a stubborn gritted determination John completed his trigger phrase, and then growled. "You are mine," to Seb before a tsunami of energy hit him.

He'd never felt anything like that before, not since the dirt was young and fresh and the sky was the intense blue only seen at the creation of the world. He moved fast, knowing that John wanted him to kill it there, now, in its world before it ruined everything in theirs like it almost had last time. For humanity, for their lost civilizations, Sebastian swiped at the creature.

Somehow the energy from did not cease coming, his priest channelling the endless dark energies of the Outsider through himself, transforming it and giving it back to him as the divine energies of his godhood. He was swelling, engorging with it, his primal claws, becoming the lightning of the storms incarnate, the avatar of the Earthshaker and now somehow the enemy was not something so vast he could not destroy it. Part of his mind realised that John was doing what he had done at the club on an infinitely harder scale - sucking in the ambient dark energy and transforming it before giving it to him. He felt stronger than he had ever been- stronger than his father and the consumed divinities had ever been in their first war against the Outsiders, but the Outsider was danger, unpredictability, madness all in one.

He felt old powers waking up, echoes of things that seemed like ghosts, the heat and the strike of a storm as he threw punishing heat at the beast to shield him as he went in after it physically to strike, rend and tear.

He was dancing with fire, the Jaguar god that leapt to the sun, that had the strength of the mountains in his bones. Slash and tear, the enemy was agile for all its size. Deadly nameless things burst from its flesh. Noxious heads erupted through slick skin to snap at him with teeth diamond sharp of absolute cold and killing frost. Tentacles with suckers lined with scissoring teeth lashed and savaged at his body even as it renewed itself moment by moment on that crest of energy from John.

He'd never come back that quickly, though it hurt to regenerate like that, but hurting was so much better than dying, than being bitten in half again, and he slashed hard at the skin, trying to get further into the beast and to really hurt it.

Even flooded with energy, burning with power he was going to have the battle of his very long existence on his hands -- one which experience told him could not be won. But he had to try.

---

Just as predicted, Sebastian played his role. It was a shame the man was such a powerful pawn, and a shame too that John was so fond of him, but it was useful to their cause. Moriarty seemed a little dumbstruck at that moment and Sherlock felt a sharp sense of satisfaction at managing to be unpredictable to a trickster.

Perhaps he thought him incapable of doing such a thing, believing that was the speciality of his brother who had a history of ice-cold decisions for the greater good, but he knew the stakes just as well as Mycroft and Moriarty. A world apocalypse would be the best-case scenario. Whatever brushed up against a portal like this would be something sculling in the shallows of the Outside, a larvae feeding on the wisps of reality that leaked into their realm. Should the portal remain open, the true death of Universes would rise. The Eaters of all things. Elder ones barely imagined even by the most insane whose names could not be spoken without drawing the purest madness down upon them all.

He had to stop Moriarty without tipping his hand. He had to think this was just an infatuated enmity that led him to jump after him into the Loki-son’s pocket universe. He knew Moriarty’s plan, elegant and unthinkable - he was going to power his own universe by sucking on the power of the death of their own. But let him think he was just in dogged pursuit, consumed by revenge.

"You idiot," Moriarty hissed, staggering back and dusting himself off from their tumble. He didn’t seem outraged to see him though, as if having him in his universe might be a good thing. He could use that. “What do you think this is, the falls?"

"I'm not letting you get away with this," Sherlock replied, affecting a snarl. The pocket universe had nothingness in it, little else but it was packed full of potential. "If you have destroyed everything, which I sincerely doubt, I will make sure you don't live to enjoy it!" Just a little emphasis here, and a bitter tone there and Moriarty would be thinking his ulterior motive was to hitch a lift on the life raft.

That was perfect. "Oh, that's rich. You're not a creator, you couldn't rebuild in this nothingness."

True enough, Tricksters were often creators, and dhampirs, definitely on the side of death and endings.

"You haven't had an original thought in your life except where it relates to us," Sherlock said. "I will be damned if I let you live just because you are so insane as to trigger the end of the world."

"But can't you tell that I have a plan? " he spun around in the space of void still a safe distance from Sherlock. "I think I'll keep you. Everyone needs someone trying to destroy the creation. "

"This isn't a plan, this is a half-arsed megalomaniac delusion," Sherlock shifted slightly, trying to keep Moriarty spinning in his own delusions so he didn’t think too far into what he was doing. "You think you can handle the power?" He needed Moriarty to handle some of it if his own plan was going to work.

"Of course, I can." He was spitting rage then, and Sherlock wasn't surprised when shackles appeared around his wrists and ankles, willed into existence by Moriarty’s focus. "I can do anything I want!"

"Including commit elaborate suicide," Sherlock heaped scorn upon him. Energy was flowing to him, and he could smell it. He could snap the restraints, but he couldn’t yet; Moriarty would become distracted by his cleverness and potential threat if he did that now.

"This isn't suicide, it's a *rebirth*." Moriarty declared, pulled at energy, sucking it down hard, and the void filled with dark, slowly and the crazy dark obsidian mirror of his eyes reflected fractured rainbow energies of atoms coalescing and being torn apart moment by moment.

Sherlock felt the moment he needed to act. He used his strength, his speed and he went for the physical attack, trying to force Moriarty to produce a natural defence of a Trickster, a reality bubble within a bigger bubble universe. He let rage power him as he smashed the created restraints and moved to strike him.

All tricksters had as their innate defence an ability to warp reality around themselves, and as far as protections went it could be effective to a point, unless you knew how to manipulate this one element of predictability in their nature. He shoved Moriarty down, rearing back to punch him and felt the reality bubble come up around him in response to a personal threat.

Here was the tricky part of him gambling the fate of the world on something as fragile as a reality bubble. Sherlock spun them around dragging them toward the mouth of the new universe Moriarty was trying to fuel from the chaos and entropy that saturated the Outside and their world. He flung himself backward and sideways, slipping out of the trickster’s reality and dragging Moriarty bubble and all - if you could call a reality construct in dimensions that would make their headache a bubble- in a way that would seal the breach behind him. He had the delight of seeing the moment in Moriarty's crazy rainbow fracture eyes when he realised what Sherlock was doing. But that millisecond of incomprehension was enough for him to slip out of the gap as the two reality bubbles started to merge. They would have only a few moments before the bubble would seal the breach forever, hopefully with Moriarty on the wrong side of the void. He was welcome to his own universe with barely enough siphoned power in it to make an armchair.

Sherlock landed heavily and grimaced, hearing and seeing the signs of Gregson battling some flunkies no doubt. At least the battle-mage could be relied on to deal with the cannon fodder, but they still had to hope his plan to seal the breach would be enough otherwise he should have stayed in Moriarty’s lifeboat of a personal universe after all.

---

Being a battle Mage, he’d seen shit. He'd seen a lot of shit, shit that would make most men cry and Paul had toughed it out and battled his own terrors and thought that maybe he’d seen it all. Except now he was in the Tower of London, standing beneath a vortex of green grey and red spinning chaos energy, and the ceiling had melted away, corroded by the merest emanations of Outsider energy.

This was bad, it was really bad. They had been too late, though he had to acknowledge the point that in truth Moriarty could have done it any time but because of the sick fucks fascination with Sherlock, they probably would not have had the chance to do anything. He and Seb had shattered the wards holding the public in place to be slaughtered, which had been one good thing. The second thing was he knew there would be guards, and then that an event of this magnitude would light up the city to everything remotely tuned in and draw an influx of their kind inclined towards the Dark. It took him a moment to piece together what the hell Sherlock thought he was doing when he tossed John through the portal aperture and then dived into thin air after Moriarty. And he snarled at the realisation that there would be a better than even chance Seb and John were lost forever fighting the Outsider and stopping it from crossing over, or if they survived, he might have to perform a mercy killing if their minds were shattered.

Trapped. Trapped back there, in the essence of madness, if they even lived for long or were still alive. How did he mount a rescue while trying to mount a defence?

Paul cast battle wards as rapidly as he could to stop an influx of creatures or people coming in. Wouldn't last more than an hour but that would be more than long enough to see this done. As he was setting some pre-emptive traps, a smoking glittering mist issued from the portal and coalesced in front of him. Instantly he was ready to fight. The south American man wearing an aura of divine power, stood and laughed and Paul wasn't stupid. He knew who it was, and his temper flared despite the fact he was facing a god. Well gods weren’t such hot-shit in this day and age.

"You fucking selfish bastard. You engineered all of this!"

"I did. I did and now look at me." Tezcatlipoca existed, stood tall and real and maybe had even manifested a body, but he stretched tall, imposing as he seemed to wrap himself in the chaos energy that was leaking out. A trickster God, naturally only made stronger by the destruction and chaos around them

Yeah well, the Smoking Mirror wasn't the most powerful entity in the world anymore, and he knew how to fight a Trickster if he refused to fight beside him to stop the end of everything. "You can't leave. Which means you have to fight the Outsider. Seb won't hold it forever."

"Tepeyollotl is a fool," the man laughed, pulling a snap of power to him, and lashing out at Paul. Thorns came out of the ground in a rush. "He stayed for his sweetmeats."

Damned if he was going to let some has-been god survive and run away when Seb was doing what he had always preached. Look after your own, never leave them behind, protect and guard. He’d never admit it but that was a god he could get behind.

"And that is why he'll survive, and you won't." He whipped up a shield that absorbed the energy in the thorns and diverted it to him. Magical warfare had moved on a lot since the days of the Smoking Mirror.

Sometimes he wondered if Sebastian had gotten that message, but his heart was in protection in a way that he thought it had never been with Sebastian's father. The god- creature responded with flames, pouring at him like water from a hydrant.

Flames, always the instinctive response in battle, probably because they could continue damage independently and as a battle-mage flames were his speciality. He whirled and swept the flames into a tornado that he whipped back at the Smoking Mirror, trying to buy himself a moment to think. He needed to think this through before the god got serious about slapping him down. If he had the believers he'd once had, Paul knew he'd be an interesting smear and oily smoke in the air right now, but his belief was uncertain. He chain linked a series of offense-based spells at the god, more to keep him off balance than anything. Ice, lightning, stone blocks whirling and spinning in confusing patterns to keep him off balance. He needed to work out how to save Seb. The Tricksters had been using each other and probably both had worked that out. That meant... that meant he needed to work out their plan.

The Smoking Mirror's was obvious - regain his power, himself, and he was well on the way to doing that as he started to buffet back, hitting Paul with power, with air whirling in a tornado spin.

Air, more difficult to manipulate and defend against. He rooted himself and mentally started to prepare a complex magic working. He hoped that the amateurish stance would encourage and distract the Smoking Mirror into focusing on him. If Sherlock was planning to use Moriarty to seal the breach as he suspected and he had to admit that was bloody genius, then someone needed to pull Seb and hopefully John out. It just needed a link or bond to one of them.

He nearly paused mid battle as hope sparked. The bond between Seb and his father -- and Tezcatlipoca was too arrogant to realise that the connection he had used to possess his son could be rewired to work the other way.

He wouldn't expect anyone to care enough to use it against him, but Paul needed to help Seb.

Tezcatlipoca was catching on that air pressure, wind was his best tool, and it felt like bursts of hurricane strength that threatened to knock him off his feet. He needed to hurry.

Above him the sky boiled with the emptiness in the rift, and rainbow shimmers picked out the shape of the leeching pocket universe swelling slightly. He sped up the chanting under his breath and then timing it to perfection gave himself a boost to leap directly at and grapple with Tezcatlipoca to mark him with the glyph to snap Seb at least back to him. He was banking on the fact Seb would not let go of John if he was still alive.

He needed Seb to not let go of John just then.

The god staggered, twisted and slammed him down onto the ground hard, snarling rage as he swiped at his forehead to try to remove a magical mark that pulled hard at him, at the other side and he needed it to work.

Paul gritted his teeth, pouring all of his will into pulling hard through that link of sympathetic magic. He left himself exposed hoping like hell it would happen in time before either his magic gave out, or the end of the world happened. Right now, that was the only thing that existed in his awareness.

---

John felt crushed between two vast forces, oddly paralysed by the process of the sheer viciousness towards life the Outside exhibited in mental, emotional and physical attacks towards him being transmuted by his unusual nature as a heyoka sensitive into a vibrant clear pure energy that he had tethered to Seb. He had thought he was going insane the moment he was first plunged into this Outside, the onslaught like a cheese grater taken to his brain and then somehow, he had felt a stabilising energy, a reaching for him and he'd clung to it as conditioning kicked in. He knew how to channel it; he knew how to draw in energy and send it out even if he himself thought his head would explode. But now, his mind was filled with the glory that was Seb. Terrifying in his power, a titan, fierce and dangerous, this was truly the real deal of being a divine being’s priest and confidante. This was what he had bound himself to as his life bled into the void.

It was magnificent, the force of the earth being brought against that creature, and the longer Sebastian fought the better he got, the more he was winning, ruining the creature, ripping it to chunks and flattening it between rocks that John wasn't sure was real but seemed to manifest to his desire.

This was not the gods of the past fighting for self-interest. Seb was a warrior in the old sense of the word. Protector, Guardian fighting for him. Him personally, he could feel that through his connection, and he felt overwhelmed by the sheer power of it all. There was an almost holy exultation there that he could win, he would win, and John willed that to be the case.

He wanted it, fed it over to Sebastian and he started to fight harder, fiercer, his motions so fast they were almost a blur, vicious in intensity as he beat down to the core of the Outsider creature, white hot madness, and ruptured it.

John knew he was pretty much done, but thank god, so was the Outsider. It was with a weary satisfaction that he saw the creature, entity, whatever it was implode and then detonate in a blast of light. What he saw illuminated was genuinely so horrifying and disturbing he nearly lost it. More of them...bigger Outsiders, drawing close. The darkness between shapes being even more creatures writhing in anticipation of a bottomless hunger being assuaged. This had been a goddamn tadpole in comparison. His mind kept repeating "Fuck" as he made an inarticulate sound of fear and felt a need to run away.

Move how? He had no idea how he was flailing around in this non-space, his only link to sanity being Seb. Inky black shadows flooded the area around them, swirling around them with infinite cold uncaring threat. They were being cut off, the darkness seeking hungrily towards reality.

The rasping was growing, overwhelmed by the nearness of those creatures as they homed in on them. This was how it was going to end then, eaten like fleas by a dog.

Too much and he was clinging to Seb when he felt it happen. Something hooking into his Seb’s energy like the snap of an energy whip and yanking him away, and him being carried along with it. Everything blurred, a passing through of things, a jolt and then they were falling from the sky into brightness to smash at speed into a smoky figure of a man and Paul, sweating profusely and reeling in the tether with magic strong enough to be visible to the naked eye.

"Fuck, what just, fuck..." Sebastian recovered first. His corporeal form was taller, bigger, but seemed to be coming back from his Night Sun Jaguar shape, and oh Christ, where was the sky, when had that vortex started? He was disoriented for a moment unable to process anything sensibly.

John realised there was no strength in his body at all. Everything felt dizzy and floaty and distant as he saw Paul turn around and whip that energy around the figure of smoke, harshly chanting a banishment spell. He didn't understand the words, but felt the meaning behind them which was basically distilled down to "Go to hell."

With protesting roar Tezcatlipoca went, vanished into the beyond and the light was leaking away...and there was just nothing left to give, and he dropped into unconsciousness.

---

Chapter 6

Summary:

"...it was an unacceptable risk Sherlock. You should have stopped him before the rift was open." Mycroft sounded furious. "Do you have any idea of the impact this has had? We're going to have to call it a terrorist attack with nerve gas covering half the country. People who don't know they have latent genes were dropping like flies."

"Then I have done you a favour conveniently identifying them at once," Sherlock said. "You've been after that for years."

"We saved the world, I think," Sebastian pointed out from the floor, still not sure what he could do for John or if it was working at all.

"Indeed, and you will be thanked for it," Mycroft said. "But nevertheless, I find it hard to believe my brother could not have engineered a means to prevent the rift from being opened at all."

Sebastian had never felt so powerful in his existence. Never, not even in the old days, but standing on ground after all of that chaos was confusion, and he didn't know how he'd gotten there.

John seemed to be clutching on to him, now unresponsive but he could feel him breathing, and beside him, Paul was just about standing but was bleeding from the ears and nose -- a sure sign he had tried to push past his limits and was on the verge of collapse.

"Bloody bastard..." Paul staggered a little and steadied himself. "I hope fucking Sherlock knows what the hell he is doing."

"I've no bleeding idea." Sebastian shifted, eased himself to his knees as he tried to catch his bearings because it was easier to hold onto John that way. His mind felt raw, raked thin, and he didn't know how John felt if he felt this bad. "What'd *you* do?"

"Reverse whammied your ...coward of a father." Paul said, catching his breath. "He was used to possessing you, had your energy field all over him. Used sympathetic magic along that conduit to draw you back to him, and snapped off the connection before you could end up merged. Then banished the bastard."

The rift above seemed to be getting darker, the coldness spreading.

It wasn't good, it needed to be sealed. Sebastian looked over at where Moriarty and Sherlock had been, where the rift was. "You're brilliant."

"Yeah well, it'll all be wasted if that rift doesn't seal," Paul said. "John okay?

He didn't look okay, far from it, but over in that area just off at an angle from the opening, a rainbow shimmer became more prominent. He wondered what the rainbow shimmer was, and pulled at John, pulling him upright and keeping him close. "He's alive. For now."

"Your gunna have to put him down because if this whatever the hell plan Sherlock has doesn't work, we're up," Paul said, coughing and spitting blood. "Dammit. Hope you've got some juice left Seb. I can barely get enough going for a basic attack."

"I have more energy than I know what to do with." He didn't stand, just shifted and focused on the walls around them, on reinforcing them or maybe having to bring them down on the rift.

There was a sudden flare of light, and a figure came tumbling out of the rainbow shimmer, rolling on impact. "Moran, energy here NOW." Sherlock snapped out, throwing some sort of focus object into the air.

He didn't hesitate, just flung his hands out and threw the rumbling heavy energy that was his now at it, because whatever it was, was part of Sherlock's plan and he was a bastard, but he’d never doubted he was a genius. The object grabbed the energy, illuminating more clearly the distortion in the air that suddenly flared as if it was a bubble film were being blown and spreading over the rift. It happened incredibly quickly and pulled hard at the surplus energy in him, hollowing him out as it formed a gradually thickening seal over the rift to the Outside.

As it seemed to settle and fade back to nothing, Sebastian felt weak again, weaker, and was glad he was already on his knees because he would've fallen to them. Sherlock, fucking Sherlock Holmes, he was always a man with a convoluted plan.

Sherlock was sauntering over towards them. "Gregson, make yourself useful and check that seal. How is John?"

Paul was just looking up from where he was sprawled on the ground still heaving for breath and barely able to move. "You fucking bastard."

"Dunno." He shifted, curled fingers around the back of John's neck. He needed him to be alive and well and his presence hadn't faded in the back of Sebastian's mind, which was good and something.

His sanity might have been damaged by the exposure to that void, it was difficult to tell. All lore told him it would have been, but he had hope in John. "Then I suspect you should let down the wards preventing the medical professionals getting here." Sherlock said condescendingly. Even he looked a little unsteady for all his apparent poise.

"I didn't..." He didn't know, he wasn't sure what he'd done and hadn't done. He reached out and pulled, ripping down what he could; it felt like his own energy.

"Ow..." Paul complained. "Those were mine. I could've done it.''

Almost immediately the place flooded with a SWAT team, many of whom Seb recognised as members of their teams. "Sorry. Everything feels like mine right now. It's a bit wonky." He shifted to lay down beside John, exhaling hard.

John was covered in blood, Seb wasn't sure how long they had been in there together, but all that time John had been sacrificing his blood. "Glad to see your brains aren’t dribbling out of your ears sir," one of the soldiers said. Mark, if he remembered rightly. Hunter lineage unusually crossed with some sort of Otherkin.

"Report Major," Paul said coughing as he sat up properly. "What's the situation?"

"Half the country laid out by the backlash of this event. Anyone with sensitivities has experienced symptoms. Surprised to see you sane sir."

"Minorly hit or miss." He shifted, squirming against the floor for a moment, and half holding onto John still. Everything was still very... Off and letting go of John just felt wrong.

One of the other members of the team reported an all clear, and Mark nodded and spoke into his radio. "Target area clear for Arctic, repeat area clear. Send him in. Medics needed, for a minimum of three people."

"Rift holding?" Sebastian asked, anyone in particular. They were still here and there an echo of the skittering feeling, a claw in the corner of his mind. "John?" John was shivering now, and Paul was trying to help him somehow, but John made distressed noises even semi-conscious at being touched by him at least.

"If it was going to rupture again, it would have done so," Sherlock said. He was also sitting down now, watching John. "Gregson, don't be an idiot, you're overloading him."

"He can deal with overload, but he can't deal with dying of lack of blood," Paul said. "I can't see for shit for the crap in my eyes." Blood, and his eyes red with blown capillaries.

"Blood." Sebastian shifted, made himself sit up, and started to see if he could trickle a bit of the steadier, heartier energy back to John. He was almost hollowed back to nothing, but it might help John recover a little.

He could almost see the flush of colour return to John's skin and was far more interested in that than Mycroft making an appearance. He wanted to snarl at being interrupted by the other man entering the chamber.

"Ah, there you are," Mycroft picked his way carefully over the debris, priceless crowns and gems lying among the rubble. "Medical teams are coming in. They are having to be shielded, the psychic emanations from this room are having most people ...indisposed. "

"Eye of the storm, " Paul commented groaning a little.

~Seb?~

The relief he felt at John’s mental touch was so intense he felt an upsurge of emotion he could barely control.

~There you are.~ He pushed over a little more energy, and pulled at John, trying to shift himself back to a human form more fully. ~How's your head?~

~I…feel ....not good.~ John replied. He was trying to open his eyes and not being particularly good at it. A couple of field medics came in, trying to examine them. The moment they touched John, Seb could hear a mental groan of pain and John's attempt to flail, despite his bodies limp state.

"Easy, easy... We were on the other side." He pushed a little more at John, and finally curled fingers around John's upper arm and finally started to give back all that he had. ~C'mon, come around.~

John's mind was raw, burned, acid dipped , something… but he quietened a little with Seb there. He was more interested in John than listening to Sherlock and Mycroft.

"...it was an unacceptable risk Sherlock. You should have stopped him before the rift was open." Mycroft sounded furious. "Do you have any idea of the impact this has had? We're going to have to call it a terrorist attack with nerve gas covering half the country. People who don't know they have latent genes were dropping like flies."

"Then I have done you a favour conveniently identifying them at once," Sherlock said. "You've been after that for years."

"We saved the world, I think," Sebastian pointed out from the floor, still not sure what he could do for John or if it was working at all.

"Indeed, and you will be thanked for it," Mycroft said. "But nevertheless, I find it hard to believe my brother could not have engineered a means to prevent the rift from being opened at all."

"Flattering though your compliment is, Mycroft, Moriarity has obviously known about the stone for some time. It was his love of the game that gave us time," Sherlock said. "Do you really think he hadn't thought that through?"

"He had a plan in place and executed it only once we were watching." And John was just lying there which was much more pressing. He gestured to the paramedic. "What're you trying to do? I can touch him."

"Do you know his blood type? He needs whole blood urgently." He asked, busily wrapping John's arms and legs and other places that had been slashed by the Outsider.

"Be careful there... treat any substance on these two as possible hazardous waste," Mycroft snapped turning away from his argument for a moment.

"Three. Paul went toe to toe with my father." He shifted, wishing he knew John's blood type, because he was willing to open a vein directly.

~O positive,~ John supplied wearily. ~Just help him lift me on the stretcher, I'll be fine.~

~Because releasing you into an already overcrowded Triage system into a hospital full of people in panic is a good idea?~ Sebastian countered, shifting to at least his knees just in case. They at least needed to move. Get out of there and whatever was clinging to the building.

"It'll have to be plasma then until we get his records," the paramedic said and beckoned for help moving John. Seb most definitely did not want to be left behind. Paul was being shipped out as well shouting orders.

"For crying out loud, aside from anything else, those are the crown jewels lying all over the floor in there...get another guard on it," Paul said. "Gah, my head."

"He said he's O positive, and the Crown Jewels were twice stolen, so fuck them." He lifted John up with care, finally feeling a little wobbly.

"He says..." the paramedic hesitated. "Okay, got it. That's it on the stretcher. We've got him."

"The closed ward," Mycroft instructed. "for all of them."

"I'm going with you." He didn't allow it to be a question, because he wasn't going to be separated from John.

"We'll check you over in the ambulance," they agreed and then it was all rush, rush hurry and as they left the room where it had all happened, he had to admit it looked like a terrorist attack out there. Smoke, dusk, lights flashing. He wanted to snarl and get them all to back off.

He was on edge, rattled beyond his own belief, and everything was spiking badly, the fringes of pure chaos clinging to them in a way that made him worry for their trip to the hospital.

Who knew what that would do? It would be like catnip for those with Trickster blood, or just a messy beacon. John was loaded in, hooked up to whole blood and the medics were trying to get him to lie down to examine him as well. "You need to lie down. You have some serious deep cuts or...gashes," the paramedic was saying finally attempting to treat them with some caution as they were pulling away, blue lights flashing.

"Hmn?" It was disorienting to realize that the man was addressing him. So that was it, his brief flirtation with his glory days was over, and he was back to as he had been before John. But the energy he had pushed back had brought John around and it flowed between them. That was interesting, that was something for him to think about. Maybe you could find a way to share his godhood, keep John alive longer than a human. If he could keep himself alive.

John had an immense capacity for energy transference. He could see why everyone had wanted a piece of him, but he just wanted to keep him.

"Lie down, I want to dress some of these injuries."

"Suppose I need it." He rubbed his hands over his face and lay down with care, keeping his eyes on John, and what he could see with Paul. "I'll heal eventually."

"This'll make it easier." It was literally compression bandages, slap on dressings, taking his blood pressure. Everything just felt weird. Detached, numb.

He wanted to ask, "do you know what we just did?" They had saved the world, dirty stupid human world, and Mycroft Holmes, half human, had complained they hadn't done it soon or tidy enough. It fucking figured.

Not just that, but it was probably one of the biggest threats it had ever faced. His mind shied away from the horror of what he had fought. The sheer despair that had gripped him when he had seen the Outside packed full of the infinitely dangerous things.

And that was what was on the other side. A broken stone and a blood circle away from them at all times, intention magic, *easy* magic everyone said until they tried it, but it was old and blood and bone and dirt and rage and that was all he was against a tiny tadpole of a creature that had nearly killed him twice, that had ruined a part of him so deeply that he could never manifest that form correctly again, a reality eater, changer, and so many more out there, that clawing sensation at the back of his mind. He knew how hungry they were for their reality, how a few morsels of God creatures kept it sniffing at the fringes of reality for a thousand years.

What was time to them? They were cold and soulless, creatures of the Beyond. Lovecraft had been a sensitive of sorts obviously because the insanity inducing gibbering horror that he described were an accurate reflection of the nature of the place. It was entirely possible he was going into shock. If gods could do that.

He was mostly sure they couldn't, mostly, and he wasn't missing any huge chunks of himself, so there was no reason to feel shaken and disconnected.

Maybe it was John, who seemed to be drifting out of it.

"You still with me?" Paul asked from where he was stacked up, hooked up to painkillers and an IV. "Jesus, Seb...if you've lost your mind, try and wait until I've got some mojo back before you lose your shit."

He managed to look at him, and focus on him; Paul was real, and he existed, and maybe that was good enough for now. "I'd forgotten what it was like the first time."

"From what I understand it wasn't just you the first time," Paul commented wincing as he shifted a little. "This was pretty much one on one, right?"

"Yes. But last time it destroyed my real form, bit me off to the hip. I'm fine." A few cuts, nothing so bad as before. It was like swimming against the current to continue talking to Paul.

"Hey stay focused. You keep fuzzing around the edges. You reinvented yourself and you've hooked yourself up with a power source that's like nuclear power in a stone age technology era. You will bounce back. I’m not having you dissipating out on me Seb."

"I could just..." Let go. He'd started to wonder how much of what had kept him going had been his father's rage at being cut down, a ruined God. He inhaled, clenched his fist, and tried to focus. Letting go could be so painless, but he needed to make sure John was okay. But he could just, fade into the void...

"Colonel Moran, see to your man," Paul snapped out as a clear order obviously seeing something he didn’t like in his demeanour "You will not let go, you will not drift off. They will get that Void stuff off of you and you won't feel shitty. It's like something sucking energy from you."

"Gave everything over to John to keep him going. Not much left to suck." Which was the struggle of it. If it wasn't natural, if it wasn't internal, he could fight it, he could be stubborn and hang on.

"You know I can be a cheap substitute," Paul grimaced. "Though I'm pretty tapped out."

"You need to hold on to what you have right now." He turned his eyes over to John, focusing as best as he could. They'd be inside a building soon, and secure, and that was good. They were almost there. It was just getting harder to hold onto all of himself. "We saved the world, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Possibly more." Paul grinned wearily. "There's a lot of assholes out there who owe us big time. Well you mainly. You fought as a Defender and protector of all things. The angels are going to have their wings in a knot."

"The Angels could've helped," Sebastian pointed out, holding onto that. They looked down on Seb's type, as dirty old--ways creatures. It felt good to show that there was life in the old ways still.

"The Angels are spread thin protecting the Seals. Still not sure if this counts as breaking or not," Paul said, his voice rasping.

"This was a breaking." Sebastian inhaled hard, as the ambulance went over a speed bump. "Almost made it."

"Didn't because of you. So many people are going to owe you big time," Paul grinned. "You are going to rest Seb, with John. You'll feel better touching him."

"Yeah." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I can push power back to him. That's new. Don't let me forget that."

"He'll recharge you as well," he assured him. "Don't worry it'll be okay."

"No, it could be good. Could be useful." Sebastian wasn't sure what point he was trying to make but arguing with Paul was a lifeline just then. Their usual bickering kept him tethered to sanity as they reached the point of medical intervention.

---

All John wanted to do in hospital was go home. He had weathered the flocks of specialist psychiatrists absolutely convinced he was actually insane under his functioning facade, because all Lore of any of the Other-kin said it was impossible to come back sane from even indirect contact with and Outsider, let alone one that had latched on directly. Truth was he was tired. Raw and tired and even the isolation wards were too much for his senses to start with. Eventually though, they deemed him recovered enough to go home as long as he was sensible and that was a great relief. He was grateful to be back at Seb's, but worried about Seb himself. He seemed abstracted somehow, and drifting in his focus.

It was hard to pinpoint what the problem was, because he was weak on reference points for their world to begin with and this, contact with an Outsider was beyond everyone's understanding. And that everyone was a large group who apparently were starting to piece together what had happened. Paul said they’d been trying to keep his identity a little covert but too many people had seen him in Seb’s company for them not to put two and two together.

It was a little heartening that Seb was cooking a roast, and potatoes, which mostly involved sitting still with John and a book and occasionally getting up to poke it. Vegetables sometimes occurred in Seb’s diet, usually when John cooked them.

The annoying thing was Seb had been treating him as fragile. The energies he had transformed and channelled said otherwise. And he craved closeness so much right now and Seb was refusing to touch him out of some misguided notion he might break. Mycroft had given them time off and Sherlock was serving punishment for nearly destroying everything to indulge himself, so this really was an opportunity wasted.

John wasn't sure what punishment looked like for a dhampir, but Sherlock had actually seemed more than a little cowed for a change. Frankly, he didn’t feel too sympathetic considering the fact he had thrown him into the Void and the suffering he had experienced.

This time, when Seb came back from the kitchen he at least sat down beside John, thigh to thigh, and passed him a cup of tea. "I'm going to be floating to the bathroom," John said, taking it anyway. He occasionally got paralyzing headaches and hydration was important. "How's the roast?"

"Smells good, almost done." He took a sip at the tea, watching John. He passed John a bit of roast potato he'd palmed while in there. "Also, hot but good."

John ate it with a smile. "You feeding me up Seb?" he asked. He was trying to be subtle but if Seb didn't get a clue soon he was going to flood him with fantasies and see if that got some form of reaction.

"Might be. Everything feels..." He waved a hand from side to side. "Pins and needles."

"Pins and needles?" John queried. "What, disconnected?"

"No, like I've sat on a limb for thousands of years and I don't know what to do with it now."

"Probably from what your father was squashing down in you," John answered leaning into him. He wasn't sure why he was having such lurid images in his mind, but he really wanted to raise the topic at some point. "It's recovering. Just needs energy."

There, a very unsubtle offer.

Sebastian sighed, and kissed his temple. "I didn't want to ask anything of you until you felt stronger. It was very touch and go there." He knew it was, knew better than any of them. Paul had sat him down and explained in a very calm quiet voice all about it from the human perspective and why he was impossible, but he was fucking grateful that he was and that he was likely to have random symptoms as a result.

John smiled a little, trying to reassure him. "I could point out that doing stuff energises me as well. That's the perk of having me be an oddity. I'm okay Seb, aside from the fact that either I'm naturally sex obsessed or we both are."

"Both," Sebastian murmured. He kissed at the side of John's neck. "Something comfortable and slow to start? I feel like I'm still integrating that other me."

"I want to know what you've been feeling you need. Because mine have ranged from the outrageous to the superhuman," John murmured. He liked the idea of planning it a bit. Having dinner, anticipating it, savouring it like wine and then indulging in an unhurried fashion.

"Oh." Sebastian made a deeper noise in the back of his throat. "I want to hear yours first."

An opportunity to get him stirred up. "It's possible some of them might be from you anyway. Things tend to mix up a little nowadays." He smirked a little. He regarded the few times he’d overlapped onto Seb’s erotic dreams as a perk of his condition. Now what might catch his fancy? A bit of the hint of his origins seemed to act as a comfort zone for him.

"There's one where I'm left chained to a rock and then taken off by you and erotically tortured for *days*, not allowed to come for what feels like forever. And you have this delighted smirk the whole time that makes me just want to go longer and further… Told you it was a bit superhuman...or is that one of yours?"

"I want it to be one of mine," Sebastian murmured, shifting his hand a little to curl fingers against John's hip. His colour was rising just a little. "I like the sound of this one."

John grinned. "Possibly a little beyond my capacity at the moment, though I'm holding you to it when I am better. I want you to plan that one out because… it is as hot as hell, and I want to have enough energy to provide the complete experience. Your turn."

Sebastian set the damn cup of tea down, which was the best thing he could have hoped for. "I want to fuck you slowly, on a balcony in the middle of the city, so everyone can see that you're mine."

Something that could possibly be worked in as an illusion, otherwise they would be had up for public decency laws. But something about that made John consider. A lot of the vibes he was getting were about Seb needing to re-establish control and reclaim him.

"Okay, here's a possibility. Rope, leather… You are feeling like I might run off somewhere, so you decide you are going to secure every inch of me and reclaim it. And there is fancy rope tying and just, everything is tight and ...open and.." Maybe he was getting a bit stimulated thinking of it. "Venues on balconies by arrangement."

He could feel the reaction before Seb moved, leaning in to kiss John in a surge of want and excitement. "Think you're up to that?"

John grinned. He should have known his own personal sex-god could not resist something like that offered up as an option on a platter. "Possessive huh? I don't have to do a lot of things, so I should be fine... Anyway, I'm pretty sure once we spark off, we'll start feeding energy back and forth."

"Dinner first. And a little wine..." Sebastian slid his hand down to pet John's hip. "And then I keep you from running away and make sure you know you are mine."

"Mmm. Not intending to go anywhere." John said. He felt a little more relaxed now that the prospect was there and leaned in. "Hey, I could get used to this talking about that. It's fun." And arousing.

"It has its good points. I have almost too much to choose from to tie you up. Carefully. Tightly." He rumbled low in his chest, a deeply pleased feeling seeping out of him and lapping over John’s senses.

"I know I was pretty weird after the hospital, but." John shrugged. "I know you've been feeling weird too. That place..."

"Clings to you. Drives most men mad to even look at it out of the corner of their eyes." And if he was holding onto John a little firmly, that was okay. That was good, John wanted all of that. "I feel weak at the edges. Fraying."

"You won't soon," John promised, knowing it was true. "I didn't feel like I was going to survive until you came. And you were... you were a god. Not just the memory of one. You were amazing."

"I used to be a god," he chuckled, shifting down to kiss the side of John's neck. "Those were the days."

"They still are, " John replied, feeling a little tingle. "And you still are. You survive because you give a shit. Paul says part of your aspect is the guardian Jaguar spirit. Now that...I can believe."

"Heart of the mountain. It was supposed to mean I was weak that way." But he was finally free of his father, and John didn't know what changes might come with that for the better. Might still be being done.

"That is not weak. Never weak," John felt almost insulted on Seb's behalf. "Seb, you just kicked the ass of something that would have brought about the end of the world. This is the opposite of being weak." He nuzzled him back almost wanting to move straight to ‘dessert’. "Did we ever find out what the hell Sherlock's plan was?” He'd punched him in the face the first time he saw him in hospital. There hadn't been much thought involved. He'd been exhausted and angry and confused and felt that sense of betrayal he had at the time, even though rationally he could see it was to stop the end of the world.

"We kept the Outsider distracted and from crossing over while he waited for Moriarty's personal protection bubble to fit over the hole."

"Would have been better if the hole didn't bloody well open in the first place," John grumbled. "Then neither of us would be feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth."

"My father still would've been in me," Sebastian pointed out, "and able to restart the plan at any time."

John hadn't considered that. "I forgot Paul used him to pull us out. I owe him...well, probably a lifetime of drinks."

"I think I have a good old bottle or two I could send over to start," Sebastian murmured. "That was brilliant. What you did was brilliant."

"Well, I don't mind reserving my brilliance to being at home for a bit." He could still recall the sensation of his self being eaten away until he broke open his repressed memories and the way to channel energy came to him consciously. "I suppose I have to thank that demon for something"

"Shame we couldn't thank him with a slow death again," Sebastian murmured, kissing his neck again when the timer in the kitchen went off. "Mmmph."

"Dinner time?" John replied looking forward to it. It was comfortable and domestic, and he had the best of all worlds.

He had an unfathomable reality and a warm comfortable one, and Sebastian was at ease with both. "Dinner time. I have a very good Tempranillo that's airing..."

That was all the invitation he needed to get up and get stuck into serving up and eating what turned out to be delicious food. Apparently Seb could add cooking to his godly skills.
It was indeed a good Tempranillo. John developed a nice warm buzz to go along with the feeling of full satisfaction that came with eating a good wholesome meal. Seb had relaxed a little more, and every now and then he caught him drifting off into his thoughts, with a slight smile on his face.

Thinking about what he was going to do to John, really relaxing and thinking about it, and every once in a while, he gave John a toothy grin and that glint in his eyes. It was a promise and a threat, and it made him hard just considering what he might want to do to him.
After they had finished, and cleared up, because neither of them would relax completely knowing there were dishes to be washed around, John pottered around a little while Seb went and rummaged for things in his ‘box of delights’. He even went and had a quick rinse off in the shower having become paranoid about washing in the hospital and that getting that weird Void stuff off of him.

He hadn't expected that, the paranoid feeling that it was still on him and though it was fading, he still felt better after a wash. Sebastian met him in the bedroom, grinning and pulling his sweater off. "Oh, I like that look."

"The freshly showered and pasty look?" John replied and raised his eyebrows. There were marks on his skin, but Seb's energy had made the wounds close and knit almost instantly before he ran out of strength.

It was amazing what it could do, to heal John. "Yes. Though I liked dirty and tanned, too."

"Well, the fresh back from battle look, too," John agreed. Seb looked good, so good he could feel his mouth go dry just looking him over. "What would you like me to do?"

"Lay down." He gestured, a firm motion of one hand. "I do enjoy looking at you."

"Seems easy enough," John said lying down. He failed at posing sexily in his opinion, though he tried to show willing.

"It does, doesn't it?" Sebastian leaned over, and reached into a drawer to pull out a black handkerchief.

"No, no anything but the black handkerchief," John deadpanned watching him carefully.

"Mock my prowess, huh? Remember that I had to come up with ideas before the advent of vibrators." Which explained the thorns through the dick, maybe?

"I am suitably impressed, " John said. "I remember the thorns well."

"That was a sacrifice to the gods," Sebastian sighed, leaning over him to tie the handkerchief in place as a blindfold. "And not very fun. I tried it once."

"How did it feel?" John said accepting the blindfold and just relishing the light touches of Seb's fingers.

His fingers lingered for a moment against John's cheek. "It felt like I permanently damaged myself, and there was a faint echo of feeling like you have just on the cusp of coming."

"Hmm, I'd probably want a bigger pay off," John said smiling a little. He had the advantage of roughly sensing where Seb was, but he understood it was to enhance his sensations. "But as a ritual..." If Seb needed it, he'd do it. Something had bound them close in all of this experience and there was a desire in him to take it further.

"It was a way of creating that pain energy, the darker stuff that I need. Even belief born of battlefields and camaraderie are not shiny." Sebastian seemed to be struggling for words for the concepts he was trying to share, and let his hand curve along Johns jaw. The blindfold seemed to tighten itself firmly.

"I know you need both," John murmured. "And you know I'm okay with that." More than okay. Sometimes he craved it and that was crazy -- considering what he had been through, he should be terrified of it. But sometimes there was something visceral and darkly erotic in his urges that wanted Seb to take, and take and overwhelm him, torture him with pleasure and pain like he remembered from his tentative steps into those energies at the club. He wanted to go back there someday and let him get inspired and do more than stay on the periphery.

"This will get there slowly. You're mine, and I want to keep you that way." Hands idled over to his left wrist, and then he leaned away for a moment again.

There was a subtle thrill when Seb said things like that. His fantasy, or Seb's… it was difficult to tell as they appear to blend, was all leather and rope sliding over skin and tightness, vulnerability. “I just want to give you what you most want from me,” he said imagining Seb’s eye gaining that golden feline tinge of power, the sense of powerful claw hidden in deft fingers...

"You giving your vulnerability to me, that's gorgeous." He wrapped something wide but thin around John's wrist. "Stretch out."

Stretch he could do as well. It was easy to do this with Seb. He would know how things were with him and if he was enjoying himself, and it was a two-way street. He felt the growing aura around Seb's head as he finally started to unbend a little.

It felt good that Sebastian was coming back on, magically, when he was able to do more than exist. The soft slow tugging of first one wrist and then the other as he was bound in place felt good, too.

"Nice," John said pulling at them gently. "I can feel you opening up." Satisfaction was exuding from Seb as watched. Something warm and pleased at the moment as he watched him unable to move or to more than squirm.

"There's... Something good in being trusted by you. In this connection." He traced fingers along John's sides, lightly clawing.

"You think I would do otherwise?" John murmured unable to stop himself reacting to that touch, imagining the jaguar doing that, the jaguar over him all wildness and primal possession.

"It tells me that I'm still me." Sebastian shifted again, pulling back to carefully bind up his legs, John guessed.

From the feeling of tightness there, that was a good bet. "Completely yours now. "

‘Mine’ he wanted to say. Entirely John's, no other urges in him just then except to be John's. It was a strange way to think about it, and it made him squirm as he felt his other ankle be fastened tight.

He was half imagining an environment around them. Something a little more dungeon--like. He wasn't sure if he had enough power to manifest anything yet. "Mmm."

It didn't matter, because he couldn't see the world around them just then. Sebastian slapped his ankle gently, grinning. "Beautiful."

"Taking you to get your eyes checked," John said. Yes, there was definitely a growing pool of energy for them to dip into. They should have done this as soon as they got out.

But it took concentration, and now they were relaxed. "Nope. You should see the world how I see it," he murmured, sliding his hand up to slap the side of John's hip.

It was enough to make him flex. It was more impact than pain at this point though some of the new scars were sensitive.

Sebastian's fingers lingered, rubbing at the spot until it felt warm under his touch, beneath the insistent press of fingers. "Beautiful."

"Mmm. I'm going to be here a while, aren't I?" John commented imagining what Seb would look like.

"Yes." He gave John's dick a firm stroke, and then slapped his other hip, hard enough to sting.

"Ow." John moved a little twisting away instinctively. "I think your hands are harder than the other things you've used."

"Then we'll..." He shifted away again, and leaned back. The next thing John felt was a softer stinging slap.

"Is that the strap?" John asked. He hadn't been complaining about the hand but the strap and tawse made a satisfying sound on flesh.

It felt stinging, different than a hand, more surface space and less depth. "Yes. Do you like that?"

"Mm, more impact," John adjusting his legs a little to spread them a little more. "I like it." Images were starting to float into his mind. Seb over him, smiling, his eyes hungry as he flexed the leather, wanting him, desiring him.

"Good." He repeated the gesture, hitting John's other hip. "Relax, and breathe."

"I can do that." John smiled a little. It was strange but he felt strangely calm about doing this. As if this was something completely normal and just a delight to be helpless while he did what he wanted with his body. He wanted Seb to feel this sort of serenity and it wouldn't be long before his mojo was charged up.

"Good." Sebastian leaned in to kiss him, tweaking a nipple firmly before he leaned back to lay down a quick smattering of hits.

His skin tingled and heated where each strike hit and he started letting his thoughts stray to Seb and what he would be looking like, trying to find that connection they had experienced that had been so intense.

It felt rudimentary, like dry humping in the desert, and Sebastian lowered fingers, stroking the skin of his hip where it was warm and red.

"Feels good," he murmured shifting a little. "The energy is seeping back." Slowly but surely.

"I lived on nothing for so long, and at like finding out you don't have to be deaf after all. Or blind." Sebastian kissed him again, and clawed down one side gently again. "Blindfold off?"

"I want to see you," he said mildly. Seb was in no hurry or he was worried about him. He wasn't sure which.

Fingers curled under the edge of his handkerchief, and pulled it loose. "I miss watching your eyes. You have gorgeous, expressive eyes. They're so beautiful."

John grinned a little, feeling an immediate surge between them. "And apparently it helps the link as well. " That felt more comfortable. He could start to read more from Seb. Hesitance for some reason.

It wasn't as if being blindfolded had really denied him much, just ease of sensing. Sebastian was still being careful with him, watching his eyes for a moment.

"Seb, I'm really not that fragile," he felt he had to say. "I can feel it all waking up as you do this."

"Good." Seb quirked a smirk. "It's not that I think you're fragile. It's that I want to keep you safe. And I'm a little in awe that you're alive."

"So am I, but I want to feel alive. I want you to feel alive," John urged him. "You're doing great...I just want..." He wasn't sure how to say it. He wanted to be the one who Seb would always remember.

Sebastian chuckled. "I, I can feed energy back to you, you know. That's new. I should be able to do something with that."

"You need it for yourself at the moment," he replied smiling. "Temporarily."

"But later. I..." He leaned in, kissed John again, and seemed to take a breath. "Let's try this again."

"Possessiveness, very sexy. Mmm," John grinned. "Give me your thoughts and I'll give us some ...ambience."

"That's a knock on my decorating, isn't it?" He laughed, though, and leaned him, stroking his hands over John's chest. "You're mine."

"Yep. And yes, I am... and you're mine too. My kinky deity," he teased.

He slapped John's bicep, lightly, fingertips, and leaned back with a smile. "Yeah. Here, what can you do with this?" And he seemed to consciously push a thought to John, a thought about some castle.

John considered and let the images roll. The room became stone, brazier and torch lit. Weapons adorned the walls and the bed became a four poster, still with the furs. There were pillars and metal rings and in the shadows the possibilities of other things. "This what you had in mind? Or would you prefer something more dungeon-esque?"

"No, this is good. I had a place like this once in Segovia." He smirked a little, and kicked his bottom lip, rolling his shoulders back. He seemed lighter.

"Oh really?" John smiled and raised his eyebrows. "And what did you get up to there? Did it involve tying up young men while drinking... uh I was going to say champagne, but cheap plonk from a box?"

"Fine cheap plonk from the local farmers, thank you. This was before boxed wine. Back when glass bottles were reused." He grinned at John, and leaned in to kiss him again, tightening the ropes playfully. "I think I have a good way to make you squirm."

"More ropes." John suggested feeling a bit more of a prickle of excitement. Interesting really, it seemed eye contact was important for the both of them.

He didn't know why, but he was going to go with it, watching Sebastian and being watched, feeling his eyes on him. "More ropes," he teased, moving over to what was now a metal chest to pull out a thinner rope.

"I like your ropes." They were somehow separate in his head from bad experiences. They were things of security and comfort rather than threat.

They were soft and silken, and woven more like a sweater or a pair of socks than twisted hemp used to tie shipped gear or shipped and trafficked captured soldiers. "I think you'll like this," he murmured, kneeling over John's hips.

"It's you doing it, so of course I will," John replied and picked up the flush of pleasure Seb felt at that trust. That was a major turn on for him and John made a note to let him experience that as much as possible.

"Lift up." He had his fingers at John's hips, ready to slide the rope under him, having looped it so it was two loops in each hand.

He arched enough for it to slide under him, feeling the slither of the rope as it passed underneath him.

"Good..." Sebastian fastened it into a harness, sliding the top two loops over John's cock, and threading the bottom two through those loops, and ah. Ah, it made sense when he threaded another rope through that to tie to his leg ropes.

"You're right, that is interesting," John said smirking as the tactile sensation slithered like something alive over his skin, over his erection. "Lovely."

"Move your leg and test it." Feel it tug tight around his dick. It was simple, but it felt good, a slide of rope against him, faint friction and tightness behind his balls.

He wiggled a little and damn, it felt really nice. His cock started paying attention to the sensation. "I definitely like that."

"I wasn't fond of the thorns, really. This..." He shifted, prepared a larger double loop arrangement, and leaned forward. "Lift your chest up."

He did the same again feeling his movement create delicious friction. "Mmm."

And Sebastian wrapped the ropes around his chest with care, and then slid another rope to link the chest harness to the rope-made cockring.

"Having fun?" John asked. He certainly was, as there was just enough movement to stimulate friction, which excited him, and it was tight enough for him to be continually conscious of the constriction and security of it.

'Yes. This is... Rooted, familiar. And you look good like this, all flushed and waiting." He looked around, then shifted off the bed to fetch something else from the box.

While his back was turned John took the opportunity to flex a little more, get a little more stimulation around his cock, and over his skin. He tried to pretend he had been still when Seb turned back. But the ropes had shifted, and Sebastian smiled, something in his closed fist, and a softer tawse in his hand. "Naughty."

"Me? Naughty? I think you have me mistaken for someone else," John tried to look innocent but he kept smiling.

"Mmm, squirming." He smacked John lightly at the hip with the softer one, a few light smacks that built to a gentle stinging. "You're not bad, just... naughty."

"You wouldn't want someone completely well behaved, would you?" He was watching Seb as he moved. He was moving with ease, and ...prowling. He could be well behaved if Seb wanted that, but he was like a cat, he wanted some movement, some reactions, something to pounce on and bloody hell that was hot.

"No, this makes it more interesting." He smirked, and leaned forward to show a handful of magnets. "This isn't something we did in the old days, but."

"Magnets?" John blinked a little. "What are you going to do with magnets?" He tried to think if he had heard or seen anything in the images from the club what Seb might be planning.

He separated two of them, fighting with the little round balls for a moment before he settled over John's hips again, placing one on either side of John's left nipple.

John yelped a little as the magnets tried to snap shut, exerting pressure on his nipple. "Well that's...interesting." He said; his mouth going dry, and his energy spiking up.

"It's subtle until the magnets start to seek on each other." His fingers lingered against John's chest, just below the point of squirming pain, and he moved to place magnets on the right side.

Again, the pinching squeezing sensation. "Ooo ow..." he groaned a little. "Not so subtle." It was pinching but not agonising.

Not yet, and maybe the threat was worse than the pinching. Sebastian shifted down on the bed, jostling John carefully, and the ropes pulled and twisted around his cock and balls before Sebastian leaned down to lick the underside of his erection

Now that was definitely enjoyable, and he made a noise of pleasure as he moved into that contact. And that had the ricochet effect of things pulling all over his body. Pain and pleasure and tightness all merged into one.

Every motion made him want to move more, a slow roll of aching pleasure as Sebastian leaned to mouth the head of his cock.

"Oh god Seb," he pulled a little more, moved a little more feeling the channel between them open. Energy like nectar started to flow towards Seb.

Pleasureful, not pain for the sake of pain, and Sebastian grinned up at him with his cock in his mouth, and then started to suck, up and down, holding John's eyes.

He was so sexy like that, and everything was fantastic, although the more erect he became the more sensitive he was to movement.

And tied off so firmly, he wasn't sure he could come. Sebastian started to fondle his balls in counterpoint to slurping suction, and there was a hint of claw. It was enough to ramp him up even more in response. He was not shy about making noises because Seb seemed to love them, particularly the small spontaneous noises and inhalations that he gave as he was sucked off.

He could feel Sebastian's pleasure, feel him and see his pleasure as he slurped noisily back off of John.
He wasn't in any hurry, and he knew Seb was patient and would take his time. "Fuck Seb..." he groaned. Seb would know what was happening to him, he would probably feel an energy build up occurring if nothing else.

He kept at it, sucking hard, fingers rolling John's balls with care. And then reached up to loosen the rope around his dick.

Oh, that was a definite rush. It made him gasp and push up, and pull hard against the ropes.

Everything all at once and his chest ached hard and Sebastian sucked on him until it was too much, watching his face the whole time.

He came hard, calling out Seb's name and unable to stop himself, aware that at the same time energy bright and warm flooded from him as well.

Sebastian leaned back, swallowing and licking his lips. And he let the ropes go back into place. "Beautiful."

John panted a little getting his breath. "Fuck Seb...that took me by surprise."

"Missed that." Sebastian grinned, crawling up over his body to kiss him.

"You were being too careful of me," John murmured kissing him back when he reached parts of him.

"I didn't want to make things worse." He left John tied tight, kissed him slowly along the jaw.

"Apparently the more pressure, the more energy," John answered. He had a warm glowing feeling.

"This is better. This..." Sebastian sighed, and nuzzled against his neck. "Feels like home."

"You feel like home," John said quietly. It was true, and something he couldn't explain.

Sebastian peered down at him fondly, his expression at ease as he started to kiss his way down. "I did promise you hours..."

"You can do whatever you want," John replied floating blissfully. “I want you to be enjoying yourself too."

"I feel your joy," Sebastian countered, "like mine. It only gets better from here." He eased off the magnets with care, and a flush of blood hit his nipples.

With it came the pain and sensitivity and he couldn't stop a noise that was half a yelp and half an exhalation. They burned and tingled.

Just a sharp, sharp burning and he started to squirm again, and the ropes around his dick were tight and pulling. "Oh yes. Can't forget about those."

"I thought you had," John managed. Everything was a little over sensitive at the moment.

Sebastian stroked his hands along John's sides, smiling slowly. "Now, what to do now..."

"Oh, I recognise that that look. I better get ready to beg for mercy ," John said playfully. "Mm."

"Good mercy." Sebastian moved back down, kissing along John's stomach as he moved to kneel between his spread legs with care.

He felt the urge to wrap his legs around Seb then but was unable to do so. Frustration shook off some of the sleepy lassitude from the previous orgasm.

Sebastian leaned down, loosened both ankles just a little, so he could get John's hips up off the mattress. "Slow."

"Like molasses," he agreed hoping this meant Seb was going to fuck him nice and slow.

"Treacle slow," he murmured, all agreement as he settled his knees under John's body.

"I know you like playing it like that..." John said although Seb in a hot and flash mood was an amazing turn on too.

This was reconnecting and felt so good, then, and Sebastian slid a hand between them to slide it along John's arse crack. He was anticipating what he would do next, wanting it, and he knew he was starting to entwine energy around them instinctively to tug and cajole Seb into doing more. "You tease," he murmured, smiling.

"You like it," Seb countered, slowing the motion and pressing this thumb into the edge of John's hole. The lube was a good feeling, not too cold.

"Yeah, you know I do," John murmured, wriggling a bit. "Fuck. It's driving me crazy not being able to encourage you to do anything else."

"I'm enjoying the hell out of this," Sebastian countered. "You feel amazing. Warm and willing, and all mine, and this is just mine, too." He pressed his thumb in more, nice and slow.

John felt himself tense and then melted into the sensations losing track of conversation a little. "But I could suck your cock... you'd like that?"

"Mmm, you could but I like you tied down like this." While slowly fucking fingers into him, it seemed.

He eased into gently moving with it. "Argh, you drive me crazy," John said. Seb seemed to almost visibly be regaining a healthy colour to his skin.

It had been too long since Seb had looked well, flush with energy, his cheeks filled out. The faintness had probably fuelled a few of those wendigo rumours, though the only human flesh Seb ate was sexually--related licking and tasting. "You like it. I need to wait until you can get it up again."

"You did that deliberately," he said groaning. Fingers were moving inside of him and he couldn't do anything about it. More energy was flooding him, and he was starting to see something around them both. The energy patterns, the energy scarring on Seb and he wasn't to touch and ...do something with that.

He wasn't sure what. Study them for the moment, while Sebastian grinned and leaned in close to him, stealing a kiss while he twisted another finger in.

The kiss was amazing, wonderful and he clung to it trying to balance the sensations between them. "Mmm." He ignited the kiss with all he could, heat and longing and stirring arousal.

He felt Sebastian sigh and move into it, pressure of mouth against his firm and warm when Sebastian pulled back, breathing a little hard. "Ready for more, then."

"Apparently I am," John grinned a little at him. "Sex god to the rescue."

"Think that's the wrong one of us," Seb laughed, sliding fingers out with slow care, and leaning back to
cover his fingers in more lube.

"I was talking about you," John said, aware the heat was pouring off of him. "I want you Seb, I want you to..." He wanted him to think him as special among all the mortals he had dallied with.

"Yes...?" He tilted his head to the side, and started to stroke his dick harder.

"I don't know..." John writhed, the thoughts disappearing under the stimulation. "Ah...still...sensitive..." But it ached in a good way.

"I like driving thought out of your mind," Sebastian grinned, adding a little lube to John and then himself, and he almost slipped and dropped the bottle.

Finally! John lifted his hip eagerly as best he could. "You're doing a good job of that."

"Good. I can feel every muscle in your body right now." He shifted his hips in closer, knees under John's thighs, and got comfortable.

Most of the muscles were probably quivering, "Any time," he tried to cajole. He wanted to move more, but he could also feel Seb's pleasure at his control.

He positioned his dick slowly against John's hole, taking his time with a slow start to pushing in. "Now is a good time..."

"Oh that's..." what he had been waiting for. It felt like something additional had connected between them, a final piece that had been out of place. A tension he didn't know he was feeling drained away.

Sebastian sighed, arching his back slowly to slide the rest of the way in. He wrapped his fingers tight and slippery around John's hips. "Beautiful."

Seb was the beautiful one from John's point of view. He looked like he had a glimmer around him, his eyes a deep sapphire blue with desire, all muscle, and eroticism.

He seated himself into John, smiling as he rocked his hips back and forth minutely. "I like the look of you spread eagled for me."

"You like the feel of it too," John said allowing himself to feel the fire of Seb inside of him.

He was warmer, noticeably so, and it made the slick of lubrication smoother, as Sebastian fell into a relaxed pace, occasionally thrusting fast just to make John moan and the bed shake.

He felt his mind and thoughts narrow down to the two of them, the intense link that had existed in the Beyond when he had started channelling the energy of that place and transforming it into something usable opening again. But this time, the energy was already 'clean' and passing through it became refined, concentrated. As it had in the club, he started to experience the intense ecstasy of energy bursts, but this time his body was lagging behind and there was a part of him that took note that Seb would definitely remember that fact in future.

Sebastian held at his hips while he pulled at his arms and legs, tied with care, but feeling the rope pull and dig at his skin as he did so.

Such a simple thing to bring out primal feelings of vulnerability. He should fear it, be traumatised by it after all his experiences but it felt considerably different. He wasn't sure why. He was pretty sure if someone else tried it he would lose it, but not with Seb. Seb was his and he would do anything to keep him.

Seb stroked at his thighs, caressed his skin, and teased him with touches against his belly, all the while thrusting fast then slow then fast again, pushing John through it.

It was a perk of having sex with someone who could manifest superhuman stamina. It felt endless, a rolling ocean of waves of pleasure. With it came drifting images and feelings from Seb or things he wanted, needed ranging from the deeply comfort driven and domestic to the gloriously kinky.

They'd get there, they'd try it all, and John was mostly sure they were going to be okay now, for a while, until the next threat to the world arose. He wasn't surprised when Sebastian leaned, and cut the rope with his claws to free John's legs.

Now they were free he wasn't sure whether to draw them up or let them tremble shaking. He loved the claws. The claws were great.

And they slid back a little as Sebastian pulled at his legs, sliding in closer to John and moving one to wrap around his hip. He took the hint and wrapped both around him.

Gripping him made for a more satisfying depth of thrust that felt like it was rattling his bones when Seb went deep. He couldn't help the guttural sounds that he made when Seb pushed in and he felt the surge of increased desire at the noise. Seb wasn't going to draw it out much longer though it had probably been hours.

It was hard to tell, except that he was sweaty and panting and Sebastian felt so good fucking him, his thrusts turning urgent when he reached between them to start stroking John off.

When he came it was with a desperate yell, exploding with energy as well as coming hard again. He couldn't seem to stop the feeling carrying him onto a high that was equal to or surpassed any drugs. He was boneless as Seb finally let himself completely loose in his own race to climax.

He felt the last ragged thrusts, as Sebastian hitched his hips up, gripped tight to John's arse while he groaned, one last burst of pleasure sliding over John in a sharp shiver.

It took them both a while to come down from the panting, and satiated feeling enough to be coherent.
"Mmm. " His legs slipped down and he enjoyed the weight of Seb sprawled on top of him.

Sebastian leaned up, cut the ropes at his wrists with a quick slice of claw, plucking a little, and he wrapped his arms around John. "Mhm, missed that."

"Didn't need to wait so long," John said relieved to be able to touch those areas he had wanted to purge away of Void energy. "Relax, I want to get the last of this crap off of you."

"I still have crap on me?" He twisted a little, looking at his shoulder, and then laying his head back down.

"I can see, sense energy scars," John murmured. "I'm not sure what I'm doing but I feel I need to do something." He stroked over those area's just letting energy flow instinctively. The knotted dark chaos energy dispersed under his fingers, and Seb's own auric field brightened. "Aha, it's like you're having an allergy response to it."

"Energy scars. Huh." Right down to the core of him, and that was a marring, a ruining of reality that was frightening and something that John could fix. It was immensely powerful, but not permanent.

Doing this felt right and as if he was somehow designed to do this. Instinctively he knew most sensitives would be curled up in a ball from touching that energy, but he could do it. The energy wasn’t discarded or confined; John could see the danger in that, so he transformed it. "How does it feel?"

"Like you peeled a scab off that I didn't know was there." Sebastian rolled his shoulders, watching John, and barely lifting his head.

"Your energy lifts when I get rid of it," John murmured. It was mesmerizing, and comfortable. Seb sprawled on him as he was combing through his energy , cleansing him.

"I didn't notice it was there." He shifted his shoulders, and nuzzled against John. "I wish I could do the same for you."

"I think in a weird way you do," John replied, finding it easy to wrap around Seb. "I was literally flushing through with energy when you were teasing me."

He laughed against John's neck. "Really cleaned you out, huh? Heh, heh."

John snorted, unravelling another tangle of chaos scarring. "You know...it is this stuff that prevented the healing back for your original form."

"And that it ate part of my original form," Sebastian noted. "I don't... I still don't really remember that."

"With this stuff, it disrupts everything around it," John said. "In god terms you've been running around with the equivalent of an unhealing wound for millennium, and the energy version of a 50-kilo pack." The energy bits were coming loose thick and fast now. "I could be wrong, but I think only people with this warped thing I have can deal with chaos stuff."

"It's not warped." Sebastian shifted, digging his shoulder into the mattress and shifting to lay on his side. "It's... Like tricksters."

John ran his hands over Seb's chest smiling a little at the random thought he was basically grooming Seb. "Like tricksters?"

"The first trickster you ever met was Moriarty. But they're usually... inventors. Geniuses. Our world has flourished because of people who can handle chaos. Michelangelo was a trickster. Tesla was a trickster."

"Are you saying I'm a trickster sensitive? I'm not a genius Seb. Sherlock and Mycroft have that all sewn up." John glanced at Seb's eyes.

"Chaos is... Flexible. Resourceful. Thinking. A Heyoka sensitive is what Mycroft called you." Sebastian mouthed a kiss against his nose, his cheek. "They're sacred clowns, and Paul explains this better, but they are revered thunder creatures."

He remembered images of lightning and the rumble of thunder. "Hmm, well I'm pretty sure that an ordinary sensitive would pass out trying to touch this."

"So, you have chaos in you. It's good, and the world is better for it. For every one Moriarty, a lokisson, there's five others who're just... amazing." Out of billions. And he didn't know in what time span.

"So, do you then," John murmured. He had his hand on the leg he remembered maimed from before. "This one will probably hurt a bit." It was practically fossilised.

The newer ones felt like scabs, but this felt like an ongoing amputation, and Sebastian tensed a little as he picked at the edges. "Umph. I'm nearly a demon by Christian standards."

"But you are not a demon," John was adamant about that. "Come here, you slippery bastard, got you." He yanked it away and it really was like the ultimate in pins and needles.

He arched, leg twitching and his body twisting as he clutched tightly to John. "Oh, ugh, that's, fuck, worst cramp..."

"Sorry, sorry… it'll pass. It was the worse one," John assured him swiftly dealing with the others that were left. "There, all unblocked. You will have a lot more energy now."

"Umph." He squirmed, leg spasming out like a massive cramp for a moment longer before he just clutched at John. "Wow."

"This is not an excuse for round three," John admonished with a grin, happy just to tangle in an embrace. "That felt good to do. Like being a doctor in a different way."

"It's amazing that you just know what to do with it. That's innate." That was skilled, and he could feel Sebastian's pride. "Mmmph. I feel like I should cook and then put us both to bed."

"I feel we could just stay in bed, "John replied. "Saving the world has to have its perks after all."

Sebastian shifted, grabbing a handful of furred bedding to pull over them. "I'm pretty sure I have some other surprises in store for you."

John chuckled curling into him. Then on a whim, he reached to stroke alone his jawline, mimicking Seb's own habit allowing his feelings to say what he seemed to have difficulty saying aloud. Not just the adoration, the comradeship and understanding, but in the light touch there was the feeling of love he found difficult to voice. Not of a priest and god but just of them. John and Seb, the Seb that looked sheepish when John caught him having a cigarette, who deliberately bought cheap wine, because it made him laugh, who bounced around like he was on catnip at the thought of jogging. All the ordinary, wonderful things that were him as much as his power, strength and semi--divine status. Revealing that hidden feeling was the only gift he could give him, but perhaps from the sudden gold look in Sebastian eyes and his intake of breath as if he was having a revelation he had never experience before, that gift was enough.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of Mercy of the Fallen