#but because he's mr. messy diaz of course it ends this way

[deadnatura11]

Buck coming through the back because he was considerate of Eddie’s family (Chris and Marisol)

Vs.

Kim barging through the front door DRESSED AS SHANNON without any thought as to how this might look to an outsider because she was only thinking of herself

[himbodiaz]

Watch Me Fall Apart (And I'll Be Yours to Keep)

1856 words. After a tough rescue, both Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital. 

title from only love by ben howard. i wrote most of this in one sitting with no beta so just *gestures vaguley* here 

They've both been here too many times to count—covered in soot, smoke in their lungs, sweat plastering their hair to their faces, but never at the same time. Never where the other can't be near to see, to place a hand on a shoulder, to lean against in support. A fire in a high-rise, a family trapped on the upper floors, and that's all it took for Buck to grab the ropes, Eddie behind him, because where one goes, the other follows. It's their routine, their deal, the promise to have each other's backs, to support whenever needed, it's just never ended them both in the hospital at the same time.

Eddie is the first one released—Buck had been the first to go in, and made sure that Eddie was out before him, because of course he did. And maybe Eddie should've insisted that Buck get out before him, should've argued with him for an extra five seconds, should've done something so that Buck doesn't have to spend the night in the hospital alone. But he didn't, and now Eddie is being sent home and the doctor is refusing to let him see Buck.  

"Mr. Diaz," the doctor says, "Your friend is fine."

Eddie wants to argue with her, because friend? Friend? Like Buck and Eddie have been anything but friends for a long time. Like Buck isn't laying in a hospital bed alone, when Eddie should be there to support him. Like by denying him seeing Buck, all the smoke that was in Eddie's lungs returns and it's almost impossible to breathe for the second time tonight.

"He's asleep now and resting," she continues when Eddie opens his mouth to argue, "Which you should be doing, too. You need to go home and rest, you can come see him in the morning."

"But—"

"Mr. Diaz," she cuts him off, remaining polite, but obviously frustrated, "Visiting hours have been over for a long time, and Mr. Buckley will be discharged in the morning. Someone will give you a call, and you can pick him up then."

The doctor's tone is one of finality, but Eddie can't take no for an answer. Before he can continue pleading his case, Bobby arrives. He comes over to Eddie and the doctor, placing a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder. "I've got it from here, thanks doc," he says, before steering Eddie toward the exit. They've barely made it out the doors before Eddie shakes Bobby's hand from his shoulder, and turns on him.

"Bobby," he all but begs, "You have to let me see him. They brought us in at the same time, but I haven't seen him since. I know it's smoke inhalation, and probably some fatigue and dehydration, but they won't let me see him." Eddie knows how he sounds, knows it's desperate in a way he normally isn't, but it's Buck. It's Buck, who has ended up in hospitals more times than he cares to count, who is his partner, who made sure that Eddie got out of the building first, even knowing it would land him more time here—he can't just leave him behind.

"Eddie," Bobby says as evenly as possible—it's the same tone he uses on distraught spouses, and Eddie wants to cry, "I need you to take a breath for a minute, okay? Just take a moment to calm down, and then we'll figure it out."

And yeah, Eddie probably does need to collect himself, because while smoke inhalation can be serious, Buck is getting exactly the care he needs right now. There's nothing for Eddie to do, yet it doesn't stop the helplessness that's settled in the space between his ribs, which only worsened after the doctor told him he was being discharged without Buck. So, Eddie shuts his eyes, and allows himself a few moments to just breathe, to focus on the air entering and then leaving his lungs, to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling. It helps steady him, helps him come back to a relatively even keel.

"Are you good to drive?" Is the first thing that Bobby asks once Eddie opens his eyes. He doesn't think he can talk without freaking out again, so he nods his response. "Okay, good. What's going to happen is I'm going to drive you back to the station, you're going to get your truck, take it home, see Christopher, and go to sleep. Because the doctor was right, you need to rest. And in the morning, when the hospital calls you, you'll go pick up Buck. Sound like a plan?"

Now that he's calmed down and the adrenaline that's been keeping him alert has worn off, Eddie feels a deep tiredness settle in his bones, and it takes all his remaining energy to stay on his feet. Again, Eddie nods in response, walks over to the car, and says, "Take me to the station, Cap." And that's what Bobby does.

Normally, when one of the crew returns from the hospital, the rest of the shift is there to greet them, but no one is there when Eddie arrives, and he's grateful. His nerves are fried, he's exhausted, and he doesn’t think he could handle the team's questions right now. All he wants to do is shower, grab his bag, and go home—thankfully, he's able to do that without even hearing the low hum of conversation that's ever present in the loft.

Eddie is locking the front door behind him and taking off his shoes while he debates whether or not to wake Chris just so he can give him a hug. It's only when he's finally made it to Chris' door that he has his answer—not because he came to a decision himself, but because one was made for him.

Chris' bed is empty, and for a heartbeat Eddie panics, because Christopher isn't in his bed, but then he remembers: he was injured on hour twelve of a twenty-four-hour shift, so of course Chris isn't here. And Eddie should feel relieved, should feel calmer now, but all he can think about is the fact that he can't see his son, and he can't see Buck, and suddenly it's like the anchors that were holding his mooring in place have let go, and he's adrift.

Eddie tries to breathe, tries to remind himself that both his boys are okay, they're both being looked after, they're both safe. He goes to the kitchen, fills a glass with water, and drinks it all in one go. He fills it again, this time bringing it to his room, setting it down on the table beside his bed. Eddie changes into an old t-shirt that Buck left behind ages ago and an old pair of army sweatpants before he slides into bed.

Now that he's home and in bed, the exhaustion should be catching up with him, all but dragging him to sleep. Except, now that Eddie's alone, he can't stop thinking about how quiet the house is, how empty it feels. Even on nights when Chris is away at a sleepover, Buck would always come over, and they'd watch a movie, or a hockey game, or just talk over beers. The negative space, normally filled by laughter and jokes and, god, even Buck's snoring in his ear, feels like a noose around his neck. No matter what he does, Eddie just cannot sleep.

So, Eddie lays in bed and does his best not to think about the call that ended him up here, and Buck alone in the hospital. Does his best not to think about how he should have told Buck to take the daughter out while he got the father. Does his best not to think about how Buck removed his mask to help the victim breathe, and putting himself in danger. A shuddering sob rips through his chest, and he forces himself to sit up because he needs to get air in his lungs or he'll choke on his guilt and fear.

The clock on beside his bed reads quarter after five, so he figures that's good enough for morning, and gets up. He can't stay in his empty house any longer, so Eddie slips on the worn sweater that he keeps hanging off the back of his door, grabs his keys and wallet, puts on his shoes, and then he's out the door.

The drive to the hospital is quick, but now he has nothing to do but wait. He turns on the radio, but keeps it low so that it's just a hum in the background. At some point, Eddie must doze, because the next thing he knows, he's being startled awake by his ringtone and the clock on his dashboard reads half past seven.

"Hello, is this Mr. Di—"

"Yes," he interrupts the caller, not caring how he sounds, "I'm outside."  

"Okay, we'll send him to you now." And it's all Eddie can do to mumble a quick thank you before hanging up.

He doesn't go up to the doors, but his truck is parked close enough to the front that Buck can't miss him. Still, he gets out, leans against the driver side door, and waits. It doesn't take long, maybe a minute or two, and Buck is walking out the doors, looking side to side, eyes searching. He's clean, his curls are soft, if a little messy, and his whole face lights up the moment he sees Eddie.

"You look like shit," is the first thing Buck says to him. He comes right up to Eddie, less than a foot away, and Eddie has to clutch his hands together so he doesn't reach out and touch. But even without touching him, the weight that has made a home in Eddie's chest since last night melts away, like it's made of ice and Buck of flame.

"Well," Eddie tries to joke, "Not all of us got our beauty sleep." But he can't hide the heaviness in his voice, he can't help how it wavers now that the tension is gone, he can't help but lower his head.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck says earnestly, taking hands he didn't even realize were shaking in his own.  

And it's the softness in his voice, the thumb running over his knuckles, the pulse he can feel once he lets himself grip Buck's wrist, that gives him the strength to answer, "Yeah, Buck?"

"We're okay," Buck tells him, like a promise. Like the answer to a question Eddie hadn't dared ask because it terrified him. Buck's hands move from their grip on Eddie's, one hand sliding around his waist, the other coming to the back of his head.

"Yeah," Eddie whispers into the space between Buck's shoulder and neck, "we're okay."

Buck only holds him tighter now, his lips pressed to Eddie's temple, as he releases a shuttering breath. They stay there, each clutching the other, until they no longer feel adrift, until their moorings are once again anchored in a cove, and no longer lost in the rolling waves of the open ocean.

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 8

Summary:  You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 2K+

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hola!!!! Hope everyone is safe at home! This continues the story as a some sort of a series re-write. It won’t be something of all the episodes but the main ones of where Spooky appears. Hope you guys like this and always feel free to leave some feedback is so appreciated it.

This was supposed to be posted for Valentine's day but life happens and I ended up finishing this chapter 3 months later... lol

| MESSAGE BOX | HAPPY READING!!!

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

Title:  Happy Valentine's Day

Chapters: Uno - Dos - Tres - Cuatro - Cinco - Seis - Siete

Six years have passed since you spent Valentine's day with Oscar. The memories of the last one brought a lot of good and mischief feelings to your soul. He had just inherited his father's beautiful red car. Memories of the week prior to the festivities, all he talked about him taking you for a day trip to Santa Monica. A chuckle filled the space as you remembered when you both got caught having a making out section by the beach.

“What are you giggling about mamas?” Oscar’s deep voice brought you back to the present.

You turned around standing in the middle of the bathroom doorway, seeing him sitting by the edge of the bed. He was wearing a black tank and his khaki dickies. Leaning against the door frame with your electric pink toothbrush on hand you gazed at him and took the brush out to speak.

“I was reminiscing about our last Valentine's day together…” you smirked before placing the tooth brush inside your mouth.

Oscar instantly chuckled, “Santa Monica wasn’t ready for those dos traviesos teenagers.”

You took the brush out, turning back to spit out the toothpaste foam and have some water. “Those?” You said leaving the toothbrush on the counter and walked back to the room and stood in front of Oscar. He looked up, his hazel eyes piercing yours. “Baby we are still dos traviesos,” you said before kissing him.

He followed your lead within seconds, letting his body fall back on the bed. You continued kissing his hips as his hands traveled your body. “You got time?” Your eyes were looking at his as your hands were on his belt.

“Para ti? All the fucking time,” he smirked and then continued kissing him.

The morning activities had woken up a hunger for both of you. Oscar was speaking with some homies on the phone as you cooked scrambled eggs with bacon. They had some runs to make but deeply you hoped those didn’t take long. Out of nowhere the thought of Caesar crossed your mind and that you never heard him come home last night.

“Hey, have you seen-,”

Your words were cut by Caesar himself busting inside the house yelling.

“Hey! Hey! There’s a dude posted up outside!’

In a matter of seconds Oscar stood from the chair, grabbed the gun from on top of the counter and stormed outside. Your heart began to bump so fast, scared for both of them.

Quickly you grabbed the phone and began dialing Sad Eyes as you peeped from the window and instantly recognized who that man was.

“Oh shit,” you said, putting the phone down. Mr. Diaz has been in jail for almost a decade. You haven’t seen him since middle school when he got locked up. Oscar aura changed completely at the sight of his father. When he turned his body, you saw it on his eyes, he wasn’t happy his father was back. Mr. Diaz grabbed his duffel bag from the floor and crossed the street making his way towards the house.

“Babe?” You called him as he walked in. “When - How?”

Oscar shook his head groaning, “I have no fucking clue.”

You stood by the kitchen watching Mr. Diaz cautiously walk inside the house. His eyes roamed every inch of the space but when he spotted you, his eyes disappeared because of the big smile he gave you.

“Y/N,” he said.

You smiled back, “Hey Mr. Diaz…”

“I can see you two still together… Good.” He said looking at Oscar and you.

You smile awkwardly, “Yeah…”

Mr. Diaz picked up the awkwardness of the moment but decided to ignore it by walking around the kitchen and living room area. He admired the house as if it was an old museum.

You decided to walk around the living room and sit next to Oscar who was already sitting on the sofa with Caesar. You were right in the middle of the two brothers.

“So when did you get out?” Caesar asked, his voice had the tone of a 3 year old excited kid.

“Yesterday,” Mr. Diaz replied, still contemplating the house, “Looks kind of the same…” he said looking around, “doesn’t smell the same tho.”

You smiled proudly at his comment, “That would be my doing.“

“You live here?” He asked you.

Your eyes felt Oscar staring, it was obvious how he felt about his father being out of prison. He didn’t want him here but looking at his father, you really didn’t think he cared what Oscar thought or not. “Yeah.” You looked at your boyfriend. “I’ve added a couple things,” your sight went back to Mr. Diaz, “you know a bit of a female touch.”

“That’s good,”’he sat down across from the sofa. Mr. Diaz's eyes were locked on Oscar before switching them to his younger son. “You in school?” His Mexican accent was heavy and distinguished.

“Of course he is,” Oscar replied for his younger brother.

He looked at his older son, “How about you? Going to college?”

You saw Oscar raise an eyebrow, not believing the question he just got asked.

“Seriously?” Oscar said with unbelief.

“It's nice to see you,” Caesar told his dad, who just answered with a nod as he took a drag off his cigarette. “Do you have plans?”

“No,” he said, “just wanted to see you guys before I go to Bakersfield. Got a job lined up.”

“Caesar, you need to get to school,” Oscar said with his tone firm. You watched Caesar trying to give his older puppy eyes to let him stay but they didn’t work on him. Instead he rolled his eyes and grabbed his bag.

He was about to leave when he turned around. Caesar's body shook as he tried to figure out how to talk to his father. “Hey... Do you maybe I don’t know… wanna hang? After school?”

“Sure,” Mr. Diaz replied without much emotion.

Not being facial expressive in this family, the male Diaz didn’t show much emotion or even spoke much for that matter. You watched how Caesar smiled happily, for years Oscar was the only father figure to him. Meanwhile Oscar never really had a father figure.

“So where are you staying?” Oscar asked his father once his brother was out of the house.

He looked at his son replying before taking another dragg. “Here.”

In that moment Oscar stood up from the couch, you could feel how pissed off he was. You watched him walk towards the bedroom, leaving you alone with Mr. Diaz.

“He hates me,” he said with his voice low.

Another thing he had in common with his son was that his eyes spoke a thousand words.

You didn’t know how to speak to him or what to say, last time you saw this man was in 9th grade. “He-,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know if he hates you or not… it's been years and honestly we haven’t talked about you in the past months.”

“Months?” he arched an eyebrow confused, “you two were inseparable when kids thought you were together all these years.”

“Not really,” you said standing up, “we broke up well-,” you shrugged, “I broke up with him when we graduated high school, I moved away for a couple years but I came back a couple months ago and now we are together again.”

Mr. Diaz nodded his head, “At least you found each other again.”

“Si…” you said getting distracted by a loud crash coming from the bedrooms, “Tengo que ir donde él… Hablamos más luego.”

The noise of bangs and things breaking became louder the more you reached the room. Once in front of the closed door, you took a big deep breath preparing yourself to see a very pissed off Oscar. Before you opened the door, the loud noises suddenly stopped. The first thing you noticed when you opened the door was all the broken glass on the floor. Your eyes scanned around the messy room until they met Oscar once again sitting by the edge of the bed in silence. Instantly you noticed the blood on his hands and had a small panic attack.

“Oscar!” You shouted quickly running into the bathroom for the first aid kit. This was one of the first things you bought when you moved in with him. You know that sooner or later you would need it and you weren’t wrong. Going back to him you knelt down between his legs, his eyes were stuck on the floor, filled with rage.

“Talk to me,” you looked into his eyes that were filled with suppressed tears. “Oscar… hablame.”

He hissed when you poured antiseptic over his cut, “Crap.”

“Exactly,” you glared at him, “Why were you breaking all this crap!?” Oscar rolled his eyes. “I saw that,” you told him as you continued to cover his cut.

“He hasn’t called or written for years and now he just comes back as if nothing ever happened?!” Oscar let out what was bothering him. “I-,” he clenched his jaw, “I hate him.”

“Don’t say that,” you looked into his eyes. “He- he wasn’t the best father but es tu papa.”

“I hate him, Y/N…” Oscar's eyes were full of rage.

You sighed, finishing up putting on the bandage and standing up. Today wasn’t supposed to be full of troubles from the past. It was supposed to be a chill day with your boyfriend. You were hoping to go on a date and have a normal Valentines day and you weren’t going to have less. Oscar and you needed an escape from the real world. “Let’s get out of here,” you told him.

He looked at you confused, “Que?”

“Let’s get out of here,” you said again, “is Valentine’s day for fucks sake. I am not letting your father’s return ruin this day.”

You could see how the rage in his eyes slowly burned out at the same time a small smirk formed on the corner of his lips. He sighed looking away for a second before standing up and holding you close.

“Tienes razon,” he said, “let’s get out of here.”

Both changed into new clothes and made an overnight bag. There weren’t plans made for today but you and Oscar were big fans of spontaneity. Something would come up and honestly being away from home sounded like a great idea at this moment. Oscar texted his brother letting him know he was going to be out for a day. You chuckled when he out-loud said “don’t do anything stupid” as he typed.

“You know that’s practically impossible,” you told him. The breeze of the coast made your hair fly with the air as your extremely hot man drove. “Those chamacos go from one stupid thing to another,” you continued, “we weren’t like that.”

“We were too busy having sex,” Oscar said, “in this car.”

You chuckled quickly looking at the backseat and reminiscing, “Ah, the old days but I’m pretty sure Caesar and Monse are doing something.”

Oscar’s face instantly looked so disgusted, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

You chuckled, “Es la verdad.”

“They broke up,” Oscar said.

“How many times did we break up cuando eramos chamacos?”

“Too many fucking times,” he let out.

Once again you chuckled, “And we always ended up back together… Those two are the fucking same.”

He smirked, deep down he was happy his little brother had someone. His eyes found yours again, “Where are we going?”

“There is this small inn by Santa Monica. The reviews said it is the perfect couples getaway.” You finished the sentence with a flirtatious wink. “We can be more traviesos.”

“I hope Caesar doesn’t get in any trouble while we’re down here,” he let out.

You caressed the back of Oscar's neck, smiling when he let his shoulders relax at your touch. “Everything is going to be fine,” you told him. “My sister is hanging out with them and if anything happens, we will be the first to know. Now can you just give me your all devoted attention and don’t think about your brother and his crazy friends…” You kissed his lips.

Oscar looked at your eyes for a second before turning his focus back to the road. For the rest of the hour you tried your best to take Oscar's mind off his father and his brother.

/ / /

“This is fucking nice,” Oscar let out putting his duffel bag on top of the white bed.

You chuckled, “Look at the view.”

He stood by you on the window holding you by the waist and taking in the beautiful sight of the beach. “Thank you,” he whispered in your ear.

“For what?” you smiled.

“You make everything better,” he said, “if it wasn’t for you this day would have fucking sucked but you… you made it better.”

It was a rare thing for him to be so spoken of his feelings but God how much you loved it when these unusual moments happened. Without hesitating you kissed his lips.

“I got an idea,” he stopped kissing you. “We need to get ready.”

You certainly loved surprises and even more when coming from him. For tonight you decided to wear a white dress with high heel sandals. You wore your hair natural just like your make up only adding a bright red lipstick.

“Wow,” you let out when you saw Oscar walking out of the bathroom. He was wearing a white button long sleeve shirt and khaki pants with his converse. You smiled taking in how handsome he looked. “You look hot.”

He smiled for you, “Tu tambien mamas’,” he walked around you, “I’m so lucky.”

You got closer to him, “Yes you are,” kissing him.

He held your hand as you two walked through the streets of Santa Monica. The fresh air coming from the ocean was salty and so pleasant. You followed Oscar lead down the streets until you two got to a small restaurant by the beach.

“Una mesa para dos,” Oscar spoke to the hostess.

She smiled and showed you two the way to a small table outside. The sounds of the waves in the background played better than any song. There was a small candle on the table, lighting bright enough to see Oscar’s eyes on you. Moments like this when there could be a million people around and his eyes were always on you. These were the moments you felt like the only woman in this world.

“This is nice,” you told him, “unusual for us but nice.”

“Our usual dates involve shrimp tacos and watching movies at home,” he said reading the menu.

“I love those dates too,” you said.

Instantly he looked up from the menu and winked giving you a small smirk. “But sadly those are postponed until nuevo aviso because my father decided to just come home after a fucking decade.”

You sighed, “Oscar can we just forget about your dad for one night?”

“You’re right,” he sighed, “Perdon.”

“He told me he thinks you hate him,” you couldn’t help but ignore your own words and talk about his father. Instantly he shot a ‘are you serious?’ glare at you. Innocently you shrugged, “Sorry pero you started.”

“I do hate him,” he said with no remorse.

“Why?”

Oscar put the menu to the side, leaning backwards and crossing his arms onto his chest. “I wrote letters to him,” he began to say. You could feel the sadness in his tone, “for years I wrote and called… You know what I got in return? Nothing.” He placed both of his elbows on the table, holding his hands onto a tight fist. You placed your hand on top of his, “When he left I was a kid but I had to grow up and be a father for my little brother without knowing what a father was. Maybe if he had kept contact or replied to my letter maybe I wouldn’t have turned out so fucked up but he didn’t and here I am… A fucking mess.”

“Hey,” you hold his chin up, “we’re all a fucking mess but it’s just life, you did the best you could and Caesar has turned out good.”

Oscar clenched his jaw, “I guess… I only had one normal while growing up though.”

“What?” You were curious about what his answer would be.

His eyes disappeared into a thin line as his smile grew bigger, “You.”

You giggled with happiness, “Baby I ain’t that normal.”

“You are,” he holds your hand softly caressing it, “I love you.”

You leaned forward kissing his perfect lips and whispering, “I love you too.”

tags are open: just comment or send me a message ;)

@flamingweasley @dolanackles @lcandothisallday @mmelissarenee @donnaintx @blckgrl-sunflower @jayankles oscar

[humanmoodring-retired]

Season’s Yeetings Pt. 1 || Blanche, Connor, Nadia (x2), Regan, and Kaden

TIMING: Present PARTIES: @harlowhaunted @connorspiracy @humanmoodring @kadavernagh @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Another exorcism. feat. Mav the Exorcist CONTENT: Self harm, suicide attempt (possession-driven)

If it could, Nadia was sure that her heart would be beating way too fast. She was… scared didn’t seem like it could properly encompass what she was feeling. Nervous and terrified and resigned in case things went wrong. And this could really go wrong. This could go terribly, actually, ending with not just a dead body but the wrong spirit also being destroyed. But she didn’t think she could handle being like this for much longer, and she knew that there was no way in hell Cordelia could be allowed to keep her body and do whatever she wanted with it. This had to end, no matter what. She looked around her apartment, covered in dust and messy as the day she’d walked out. This was the first time she’d been in it since the wards had been put up, and it hurt a bit to be back. This was somewhere that she’d once felt safe, comfortable. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel comfortable again if she made it out of this. But she needed to steel her resolve. She looked over at the others, gave them a nod and what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’re just waiting for Kaden and the exorcist, right?” And her body, of course, but that didn’t need to be voiced, did it?

Regan knew that she didn’t need to remind Nadia of what she had said in the cabin. It was as good as a promise, even though she couldn’t say the word. Nadia wouldn’t die alone. No matter what happened here today, Regan could at least give her that. And anything could happen. The first aid kit Regan had set on the counter was testament to that. Nadia didn’t want to acknowledge it verbally, but her tense expressions and manic pacing -- sometimes through the floor -- said what her words didn’t. She was terrified. In some moments, Regan allowed herself to be, too. This wasn’t how Regan wanted to come back to their apartment together, both of them ghosts of their former selves, but if today went in their favor -- and she would do anything she possibly could to see that it would -- one of them could be saved.

When Blanche and a young man who she assumed to be Connor arrived, Regan backed up to the opposite side of the room, staring across at them with a tight frown and black eyes. She didn’t greet them, but she wouldn’t shame them either. She didn’t have anger inside of her anymore -- not enough to speak -- but from an objective point of view, she did blame the two of them for Nadia’s current predicament. They would set this right, or they would face consequences. They both seem determined but anxious, focused with heavy steps and tight knuckles. Blanche, especially, seemed more an adult than she ever had before. Regan silently watched as some parts of the stage were set. Candles, salt, metal which looked dangerously like iron, and more. For her own contribution, she pushed the furniture to the sides of the room, creating an open space in the center. She could see all of their footprints in the dust, layered on top of each other and the ones she had left just a couple of weeks ago. When that was done, she went back to her wall, maintaining as much distance as possible from anyone who wasn’t Nadia. “Yes,” Regan replied, Nadia’s nervous smile melting through her a little, “Kaden said he would be ready at twenty after.” She checked her watch. Soon. “As for the-- I don’t know anything about them.”

Did it make him look better or worse to show up with homework? Photocopied pages lay folded in his back pocket, but he hadn’t dared pull them out in front of the others. He’d read them countless times anyway. Connor was more than grateful for the material’s Leah had copied from her archives for him, as well as everything he'd found while researching with Rio, but he still hadn’t managed to find anything that related to the exact situation they’d found themselves in. As far as he could tell, exorcising the wrong soul from a body just didn’t happen all that often. He supposed either he was that much of a fuck up, or Nadia’s situation was just that special. Regardless, he reckoned the older exorcist would know. “Do you know where Kaden found this bloke?” Connor asked nobody in particular. He wondered if it would be impolite to smoke a cigarette while they waited. He opted against it, since the woman with the dark eyes seemed ready to kill him at any moment. “I mean, I appreciate the help. I really do. I just wanna check what exactly we know about him.”

The somber expression on Blanche’s face couldn’t seem to leave, even as she entered the apartment and took a look at Nadia and Regan. “Hey,” she said in greeting, her tone flat. She couldn’t say much else. Blanche dropped her smaller bag on a piece of furniture and began to set up as much as she could - Blanche was conscious enough to keep the iron as far from Regan as possible. She glanced at Connor as he began to speak, pulling the long black bag she had on her back off. “He has his connections. I’m sure he’s adequate,” Blanche replied, though she was unsure too. Granny had instilled a distrust of exorcists in her from when she was young. She wasn’t sure how much of that was out of fear of being exorcised herself, but Blanche knew that a lot of people liked to masquerade with powers they didn’t actually have for the chance to get quick cash from desperate people. She unzipped the large bag, before pausing, with a frown. Warily, she announced, “I borrowed a shotgun from a friend,” she said, pulling it out. Well, really, she borrowed it from Stan, who was all too keen to give her a firearm after she got stabbed in his place of business. “It’s loaded with salt rounds. In case things get… Bad.” She glanced at the door, moving her equipment out of the way. “I suppose we’ll hear them.” She looked to Connor. “And we’ll feel Cordelia whenever she’s nearby.”

It had been so long since Kaden pulled up to Regan’s apartment, pulling up to park in front of the building felt strange and foreign at this point. Putain, he hated that. Still, there was a small sense of relief. This was finally almost over. “Welcome home,” he said to Cordelia as he led her from the car up to the top floor. It was eerie being here, even though there were plenty of people waiting inside. Maybe it was because of how abandoned the building felt now. Maybe it was because of how defeated Cordelia seemed, almost accepting of her fate. Almost. Didn’t matter. He carted her upstairs and walked her in. His heart caught in his chest as he looked around the room. Empty, cleared out, and covered in dust nothing like he remembered. It was strange to see it like this. It was strange, too, to see Regan in this context. Willingly, at that. Black eyes and distanced, it was almost easy to forget who it was. Almost. This wasn’t the return to this building he expected for both of them. He winced when he remembered what he’d done to Cordelia’s wrist. Nadia’s body’s wrist. Hopefully Regan didn’t think too poorly of him. But it was too late to do anything about it now. And if this worked, a broken wrist was the least of Nadia’s worries. Blanche was here, too. With a shotgun no less. He shot her a look but let it lie. And also some kid he assumed was Connor. He couldn’t see Nadia even if he wanted to. Now where the fuck was this exorcist?

“Howdy, folks,” the man with a mustache said as he walked through the door behind Kaden, tipping his stetson. “I heard we have a big here nut to crack.” He took a good look around the room and assessed the situation. “I see you all followed instructions. Thank you kindly, this set up should work just fine. Just fine.” He noted the handcuffed woman in the center of the room and made a quick guess that was the little lady in question. “Mr. Langley, good to see you again. I suppose some introductions might be in order. My name’s Maverick, but you can call me Mav.” He was told there was going to be a medium, another younger exorcist, and a banshee. He wasn’t sure what a banshee was doing in these here parts or what her particular interest was in this here ghost, but he wasn’t one to question. Not if he was going to rake and scrape himself together a handsome pay day out of this job. “First thing’s first. I believe a repossession is in order, is that the case here? No need to dilly dally if we’re all ready and raring to go. You all know the plan?”

“What a fucking gentleman,” Nadia snapped at Kaden as they walked into her old apartment. Good memories, she remembered. There was the cabinet where she stored all of her equipment, and that was the couch that she’d passed out on after a couple of good heist, and there was what was left of the kitchen table that she’d definitely destroyed on her way out of this place. She rolled her shoulders, felt Kaden’s knife shift from where she’d tucked it in the waistband of her jeans, the shirt covering it up. She’d just need to snap her handcuffs off like she had the last time this happened. Whatever, she could do it. She could do it. She looked around the room, glancing at the little banshee, the children, the shadow of her host. “Howdy, folks,” she said mockingly. “This looks like a party, huh?” When the mustachioed hombre walked in, she rolled her eyes and glanced at the shadow, at Nadia Diaz. Give me your best shot, she said with her eyes.

For her part, Nadia didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do. This next part was on her, right? She had to get this started, wasn’t she? She was. Of course she was. But she was a bit nervous. Really nervous. Scared, maybe, was the right word. She gritted her teeth as she and Cordelia stared at each other, steeling herself. All she could see was her reflection in the mirror, grinning as she faded out of existence. Except Nadia couldn’t fade now. She couldn’t. She couldn’t. She stepped forward instead. “Right. I-- I repossess her, and you exorcise her out, right?” It sounded easy. This was her body, too. It was her body. She could do this. “Is there…” She trailed off as she looked at Cordelia. What a mess the two of them had made of her life. Looking in that woman’s eyes, her eyes, Nadia knew what she wanted. She wanted her fucking life back. “Is there anything else I should do?”

For a moment, Regan lifted herself from the wall when Kaden walked in, yearning to approach. But now wasn’t the time for so many reasons, and she was forgetting herself. Cordelia -- Nadia’s body -- was dragged in, wrist swollen under the handcuffs in a way that made Regan think it might be broken. Would Kaden have-- later, that was something to think about later. Once Nadia was in there again. So she stayed glued to the edge of the room, eyes flitting between Nadia, Kaden, and the shotgun that looked so massive and out of place in Blanche’s small hands. There was only one more person they were waiting on now, and just as Regan thought it, their final party member swung into the room looking like a man straight out of a spaghetti western, but far scrawnier. He appeared almost as malnourished as that child Blanche and Kaden were friendly with, Rio. But despite his protein deficiencies, his mustache still glistened under the dull lightbulbs -- which Regan suspected wouldn’t be there long considering her own track record -- and he seemed energized and ready. Where on earth had Kaden found this man?

“Hello,” Regan said in response, her first words to anyone other than Nadia, “What are your credentials?” She bore into him, not stepping any closer. Was Nadia really ready to pour all of her trust and hopes into this? Regan looked over to her friend for a moment, seeing her fear and tenseness. She offered a hand, though she knew Nadia couldn’t exactly take it; maybe it would still be enough. “I’m Regan. I’m here for Nadia. I’m a-- I was a doctor. I will not let anyone die here today.” As for Mav’s question, she had no answer for him; she’d leave that to Blanche and Connor to answer. She relayed her friend’s concerns instead, in case Mav or others were unable to hear her. “Nadia is wondering if there’s anything she should do.”

Connor's eyes widened as Blanche drew the weapon. "You bloody Americans and your guns," he sighed, but they could have done worse in this situation than a rocksalt shotgun. It was powerful, yet non-lethal, at least at the right distance. "Just be careful. Get too close and you'll blow her fucking chest out even without actual bullets." Thankfully, Kaden and Cordelia's arrival saved them from further conversation about the weapon. "Oh, you're as lovely as ever, darlin'," Connor scoffed, his confidence boosted by the presence of the others in the room. Kaden seemed as gloomy and squinty-eyed as the last time Connor had seen him clearing Snicker-Snackers out of his apartment, yet this time, the weight of his bad mood was far, far heavier.

Connor stood as the final man walked into the room, raising an eyebrow as if this was some type of bloody joke. He imagined this was what John Wayne would look like as an exorcist. "Mav," he repeated, extending his hand. "Y'alright, mate? I'm Connor. I'm gonna be helping you out with this one." He was glad he wasn't the only one who wanted to know the stranger's credentials. Thankfully, Regan had saved him from asking the man directly. He could feel Nadia's nerves, her fear, and somewhere in there, her determination. Connor couldn't touch her, couldn't offer a comforting hand, but he gave her as reassuring a smile as he could manage. "Just stay strong, yeah? Stay focused. You got this."

“I know. If I didn’t know how to use it, I wouldn’t have it,” Blanche snapped quietly at Connor, her already bad temper souring even further. She refused to look at Cordelia, there was no need, considering Nadia hadn’t yet repossessed her body. She wouldn’t need to watch for the struggle for control between them -- not yet, at least. Blanche pressed her lips together into a thin line, examining the exorcist carefully. Had she died and woken up in a bad Western? Blanche was with Regan on this one, and she glanced at the Banshee quickly before turning back to Mav. What were this man’s credentials? It wasn’t like she could ask for a CV or an exorcist license… Blanche slung the shotgun over her shoulder, finally stepping forward to greet him. “Blanche. Medium. I’ll be running telekinetic interference in case it gets…” She let out a breath, remembering the telekinetic game of tug-of-war her and Constance played in the classroom. She had thrown the teacher’s desk through a window. Blanche grimaced, and she hoped they didn’t completely trash Nadia’s apartment. “Completely out of hand.” Eyes narrow, Blanche glanced at Nadia. “Whenever you’re ready to begin, Nadia. Just like we practiced.” She looked back at Mav, still distrusting of him. Finally, lowering her voice, she asked. “You can tell what she is, right? The spirit in the body?” He had to at least be able to answer that Cordelia was a poltergeist. It was the only question she could think to answer to make sure they weren’t getting scammed.

Kaden wanted to go over to Regan, give her hand a quick squeeze of reassurance before slinking off to the side, but it wouldn’t help. The only thing that would help was finishing this, giving Nadia back what was hers. He wished he could see her, give her some reassurance before all this started. “Mav’s one of the best there is. Trust me,” he said before backing away to the door. He had to be. After what Kaden sacrificed to get him here, he had to be. This wouldn’t be for nothing. “I’ll be right at the door. Let me know if you need me.” With that he headed to the door, giving the scene one last look. He really hoped he’d be useless here and it’d be over sooner rather than later. He had to trust this was the best group possible to make this happen.

Mav gave the hunter a nod. “I’ll call on you if I need you, partner.” He didn’t know much about this Langley fellow but he trusted Porter would only refer him to someone worth his time. And this case sure sounded like a doozy. “Nice to meet you, youngin,” he said, shaking Connor’s hand. “I hope you’re good and ready for this rodeo. It’s sure to be a hullabaloo. Just follow my lead and stay by me.” It seemed like Mav and Mr. Langley might be the only two in the room who couldn’t see ghosts by the sound of it. That was alright, he didn’t need to see them to exorcise them. “Telekinesis? Well I'll be damned. That’s a horse of a different color right there, boy howdy.” That was more than he bargained for from a medium. This might not be a total disaster after all. Maybe they had a shot. Though not if they all kept on questioning him. He hoped he could settle this score and keep the quarreling to the spirits. “Young lady, I’ve been dealing with ghosts and performing exorcisms since I was knee high to a grasshopper. I know a poltergeist when I feel one and you’d best believe I know how to handle one so none of y’all need to fret about any credentials, you hear?”

Mav fastened his hat on his head a little tighter and rolled up his sleeves before pulling out his grand pappy’s old iron pocket watch. It was a silly old trinket, but it was a fool proof focal point for him. “We’ll need our Ms. Diaz to repossess her body. Once she’s in there, we’ll start the exorcism. The circle here should keep little lady Cordelia trapped while we do the banishment. There’s bound to be a lot of rattling and hollering but it’s very important that once I start wagging my mouth that no one interrupts me. One missed syllable is all it’ll take for things to go belly up in a delicate situation such as this one. So if we’re ready to start wobbling jaws and get this show on the road, y’all need to be absolutely sure you’re ready.”

Just repossess the body. That was all Nadia needed to worry about doing. She looked at where Cordelia and her body waited within the circle. The moment she crossed that line, she’d be stuck in there with a homicidal maniac until everything was completed. The way that Cordelia looked at her without really seeing her would have chilled Nadia to the bones. This had to be the most twisted form of self-loathing, when her own eyes were filled with so much hate, but she wasn’t even in there. Nadia looked at Regan’s hand and, comforted, stepped forward. Cordelia straightened up, her mouth set in a hard line. Nadia crossed into the circle, and there was no going back. She stood toe to toe with her own body, her feet floating off the ground and making her an inch or so taller. Once again, Nadia felt like she was staring at her reflection in a mirror back in Phoenix, blood on her hands and a smile that wasn’t hers, had never been hers, stretching across her mouth. She was done with this. Nadia reached her hand out and grabbed her own shoulder.

It felt weird, feeling Nadia Diaz’s hand pass through her body, but the sensation meant that the repossession didn’t work, and all Nadia could do was laugh. “You can’t even be dead properly, can you?” she hissed at the translucent figure in front of her. “God, any ghost worth their shit can possess. Come on, champ, try again.” She looked out amongst the group in front of them, from the little banshee to the cowboy, sneering. Bet they felt like dumbasses, backing the wrong Nadia. She was clearly the better of the two, more in control and more capable of taking care of this body. Not that it’d matter for long, but, shit, it was as if Nadia didn’t even want it anymore. Just like when Nadia had taken over, the girl had no fight. She couldn’t have fought back if she wanted to. “Didn’t you hear me, you dumb bitch? Try aga--” Nadia gasped, and, for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t alone in her head anymore.

The first thing Nadia noticed was that she was unbalanced. She wobbled a bit, trying to remember how to plant her feet on solid ground. Her wrist hurt. Her throat hurt. Her head was killing her. She had to blink tears out of her eyes for a moment as everything came back into focus. She was trembling, but she could feel it. She could feel everything, not just herself, and the weight of it was crushing. It was relieving. But she could feel Cordelia, too, just underneath the surface, and the poltergeist was so much stronger than she was. However, Cordelia wasn’t the one that was used to being possessed, and this would always be Nadia’s body first. For a moment, and just a moment, she had total control, even if the spirit taking up residence in her body fought like a motherfucker. “Now,” she gasped out, locking eyes with anyone that she could. “Start now. You’ve got to start now.”

Regan wasn’t sure why Blanche felt the need to mention her size to Mav (she was more shrimpy than medium, though neither of those words were qualitative enough for Regan’s liking), but she was already struggling to follow everything else that was happening. Telekinesis? Horses? A pocket watch that made a shiver roll down her spine? Instead of trying to make sense of nonsense, she turned her attention to Nadia and Kaden. As much as she wanted him to stay here, she knew it was important that someone guard the door. The last thing they needed was for Cordelia to escape… or for Ms. Carmody to wander up insisting to see what was causing all the noise. Despite not agreeing with Mav’s chosen terminology, she understood that his warning about interruption was to be taken seriously, and for a moment, she considered promising that she wouldn’t interfere. But… what if she had to? What if there was no other option? What if Nadia’s death would be a result not of the “exorcism,” but of Regan’s inability to intervene? So she held her tongue as tightly as she held Nadia’s gaze. Her fingers felt nothing as she tried to graze her friend’s hand, but something in Nadia’s eyes told her that it helped a little nonetheless. Regan only wished she could do more. She wasn’t the best at inspirational speeches, but it seemed prudent to remind Nadia that she believed in her. “You were shot by a mime and wouldn’t even come to me for stitches,” Regan said, voice resolute, “you’ve been using hydrogen peroxide on your wounds despite my warnings, and you fearlessly confronted all of those dangerous individuals at 66 Brimme Stonne. There’s likely more that I don’t even know about.” That thought sank like a stone inside of her. “You can do this, Nadia. You’re tough and, to my chagrin, occasionally medically irresponsible. But most importantly tough. And I’ll be here. No matter what.” That was a promise Regan would have made if she could.

At Mav’s instruction, Nadia drifted into the center of the room, where Cordelia stood in handcuffs. Though Regan had seen both of them individually before, seeing them in one place, staring each other down, was maddening. Some part of her wanted to explain all of this away as a hallucination, but she couldn’t lie about that, not even to herself any longer. There was no imagining Cordelia’s fury out of nowhere, either -- it was very real, even directed at someone so insubstantial as Nadia. There wasn’t even a tremor under Cordelia’s voice; she thought herself invincible, truly believing that Nadia was going to die trying. More impossible things unfolded -- Nadia vanished. Regan looked down, expecting her to pop back up through the floor, but she didn’t. Her head swiveled frantically as she searched the room. Nadia was gone. But Cordelia -- something was changing across her face. And her balance. Cordelia nearly fell, and Regan was caught off guard by how Cordelia’s voice changed. Uncertain, fearful, frenzied, with a backbone of determination. Regan knew, then -- that was where Nadia had gone, somehow. She stayed back, lingering at the side of the room as she looked to Mav, pleading silently with him to save her friend.

Bloody hell, there were a lot of people here. Most of them actual adults. This wasn't like last time when it was a bunch of kids in the woods just hoping to get this right. Connor wasn't sure if he was intimidated by that, or comforted by it. "Right," he said, nodding and stepping into position next to Mav, trying not to let the man's colourful use of language blur his judgement. They wouldn't have invited him if he wasn't capable. This was Nadia's life at stake. "I've got you, mate." He touched his focal point, currently nestled inside his pocket. It would make its real appearance once they were ready. "You got this, Nadia," he said again, looking at her sincerely and giving her an encouraging nod.

Connor could feel the palpable tension in the room. He felt the poltergeist's fury, the struggle, the pain. He focused on the battling spirits, never taking his eyes off them, ready to leap in at any moment regardless of not knowing how he could help. "She's winning," he said, managing a hopeful smile. But they weren't out of the woods yet... There was still the rest of it to do. "Quick, I'll start getting everything in place, yeah?" No wobbly mouths, or waggling jaws, or whatever the cowboy had said. The ritual had to go perfectly. He drew the diagrams around the Nadias, taking the relics and items as Mav handed them to him, the two of them settling the playing field as Nadia and Cordelia fought for control over the other. "You’ve won, okay Nadia? Stay strong, we're almost there," he called to her.

The mustached exorcist watched and waited as the spirit of Nadia Diaz returned to her own body. Mav almost wished he could see it proper, but he didn’t need to see to know what was going on. The energy shifted around them, forces battling to occupy the same space, and beyond that, he wasn’t a spring chicken. He could hear the arguments back and forth. When she said the word, Mav didn’t hesitate to start chanting. He gripped his fingers tight around the chain of the pocket watch as he formed the Latin clean and precise even with his accent peaking through, narrowing in on the energy until it was clear and crisp as sweet tea on a summer’s day. In normal circumstances, he’d never need to focus his energy like this, not for a basic removal ritual. But this? This was three gallons of crazy in a two gallon bucket. The spirit that belonged to the body was weaker, it would take everything he had to pull the poltergeist away. And then a little more than that to banish it back to hell and keep Ms Diaz from heading down to the bone orchard herself. He felt the words forming a bond of energy, like the chain from his watch, latching onto the poltergeist and pulling at it, peeling it away from the body. She was tough as a pine nut. A focal point wasn’t enough. Without dropping a phrase, he nodded to Connor and reached out to him to pull from him, to strengthen the chain. It was going to need to be strong as steel, iron even, to make this work. But Maverick Mulaney was no failure, no sir.

Blanche understood Mav’s exasperation, but she wasn’t quick to drop her skepticism. Once it was all over, she could apologize -- or kill him, if she ended up being right. The somber thought made her grimace, even as Nadia succeeded in overtaking Cordelia and the removal started. The energy in the room was thick and made her skin tingle uncomfortably. Watching Mav start to pull from Connor, Blanche backed away and started inching closer to Regan. “Regan?” She said quietly, not taking her eyes off Nadia and Cordelia. This was probably the first thing she had said to Regan directly in a very long time, but it was better to warn her now then let her be surprised. She had seen the first exorcism, and Nadia’s screams of pain weren’t something she would soon forget. That said, maybe with the removal it would be, at least, a little better. “Once Cordelia is out, it’ll get better for Nadia.” She spoke softly so she wouldn’t disturb Mav or Connor’s concentration. “... Well… Maybe not better. But it probably won’t get worse,” she corrected herself. Her hands tightened on the gun, and let out a hissed wince as her body began to feel like ice. “I think he knows what he’s doing.” Blanche was struck again with a sort of sadness and pity for Cordelia, as well as the familiar guilt in her gut, but she shook it off. There would be time to lament her choices later, now she had to keep a careful eye on Nadia.  She narrowed her eyes at Nadia, taking a few steps forward as she tried to watch for Cordelia’s soul to be ripped out of Nadia’s body. “C’mon, c’mon. Let her go.” Blanche hissed under her breath. Before it killed Nadia.

Just like last time, Nadia felt a pulling sensation, like she was being ripped in half. She gritted her teeth against the pain so hard that she tasted iron in her mouth, but she stayed in control for as long as she could. This was working. They were going to win this. Granted, she felt like her insides were coming apart, as the connection with Cordelia that had literally just reformed was severed again and again and again. Cordelia raged against her skull, but Nadia held on as much as she could. If she concentrated, she could hear Mav chanting. She focused on that, on the sounds of words in a language that she didn’t understand. If she made it out of this-- When, when she made it out of this, she was going to start learning a new language. Maybe a dead language, something that could be useful in this fucking town. But she was making it out of this. Fuck, it was cold. It was so cold. Nadia felt herself trembling, and she opened her mouth to say something, but she didn’t say anything at all. She screamed.

“No!” Nadia screamed out, finally regaining control as the temperature in the room plummeted and the lights surged with her anger. No. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t losing this. Not now. Not now. Just like in the last exorcism, she reached inward, to that part of her that was dead and had been for so long but refused to fucking stay that way. Again, the felt the shackles, fucking handcuffs of all things, fall from her wrist, but this time, she knew she wouldn’t make it out in time. She had one last Hail Mary. She didn’t even feel the pain in Nadia’s wrist as she gripped the knife hidden behind her back as tightly as she could. Lightning fast, she ran it against Nadia’s neck, leaving a thin red line. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Too quick. Nadia Diaz would die suffering. She felt herself being pulled, pulled out of the body, but Nadia clung on as hard as she could, planted her heels, and dug the knife into Nadia’s stomach. It was poetic, wasn’t it? This was where she’d stabbed Kaden, where she’d stabbed the little medium. She gritted her teeth and dug in more, as much as she could. It wasn’t a big knife, sure, but she was a determined gal, and she didn’t give a fuck about Nadia’s pain. Not anymore. Then, Nadia wasn’t pulled out of Nadia’s body. She pushed herself out.