Marcus Keane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pushbackthedarkness) wrote2019-12-05 11:48 am
pushbackthedarkness) wrote2019-12-05 11:48 am
[tempter of the holy]
Marcus is exhausted.
He'd known, of course, he'd seen it dozens upon dozens of times in the people he's helped. He'd held them and wiped their tears and tended to their wounds and told them they just had to fight for a little while longer, so he had known, but he had never really appreciated the bone wrenching exhaustion that comes with fighting back from this side.
Every part of his body aches, but he can only feel it from a distance. Everything comes to him as if from a distance, as if he's not really part of his body at all, but something kept just slightly apart. Kept out of the way.
There are times when it feels physical, as if he's pushing back against some barrier, times when he's able to hook his fingers into something and claw to the surface, but those moments are getting more and more difficult to grasp. He feels if he could only wrap his hands around the demon's throat, he would be able to choke it out of him, but every time he tries, a horrible buzzing laugh rips from his mouth and he finds his actual hands yanking against his restraints, trying to reach his own throat.
Matthias comes to him in those moments, soothing him, pressing a cool hand to his burning forehead and Marcus wrenches away from the touch. He had been such a fool to fall for it in the first place, but he'd just felt so lost, so confused, all those memories pressing in on him, time folding over on itself in ways that should have been impossible. In the moment, it had made sense for Matthias to be there. If he was in Darrow and he had also killed Andy, then he could be here without Matthias and Matthias could still be there all at once, only he understands now none of that is true.
He didn't kill Andy. Not the man he is now. And when Matthias comes to him, eyes and voice and smile so familiar, he knows it's wrong. He's so damn ashamed of having fallen for it in the first place.
"You're not you," he hisses at Matthias in a rare moment when he can speak in his own voice. The others don't see Matthias, he knows they don't, but he can't let this stand. This thing wearing Matthias's skin. "You're not you, you don't belong here."
He knows the thing's name. If only he could get back to them properly, if only he could find a moment of awareness, he would be able to tell Sam, but he can't seem to get there. Every time he speaks the name it dissipates on the air and another lash is ripped across his back, leaving his skin bloody and raw.
Even the pain is distant, though. All Marcus knows is how tired he is. How much he just wants to close his eyes and sleep.
"Sleep, älskling," the thing wearing Matthias's face says gently. "Sleep now."
Marcus works up what little strength he has and spits in its face.
He'd known, of course, he'd seen it dozens upon dozens of times in the people he's helped. He'd held them and wiped their tears and tended to their wounds and told them they just had to fight for a little while longer, so he had known, but he had never really appreciated the bone wrenching exhaustion that comes with fighting back from this side.
Every part of his body aches, but he can only feel it from a distance. Everything comes to him as if from a distance, as if he's not really part of his body at all, but something kept just slightly apart. Kept out of the way.
There are times when it feels physical, as if he's pushing back against some barrier, times when he's able to hook his fingers into something and claw to the surface, but those moments are getting more and more difficult to grasp. He feels if he could only wrap his hands around the demon's throat, he would be able to choke it out of him, but every time he tries, a horrible buzzing laugh rips from his mouth and he finds his actual hands yanking against his restraints, trying to reach his own throat.
Matthias comes to him in those moments, soothing him, pressing a cool hand to his burning forehead and Marcus wrenches away from the touch. He had been such a fool to fall for it in the first place, but he'd just felt so lost, so confused, all those memories pressing in on him, time folding over on itself in ways that should have been impossible. In the moment, it had made sense for Matthias to be there. If he was in Darrow and he had also killed Andy, then he could be here without Matthias and Matthias could still be there all at once, only he understands now none of that is true.
He didn't kill Andy. Not the man he is now. And when Matthias comes to him, eyes and voice and smile so familiar, he knows it's wrong. He's so damn ashamed of having fallen for it in the first place.
"You're not you," he hisses at Matthias in a rare moment when he can speak in his own voice. The others don't see Matthias, he knows they don't, but he can't let this stand. This thing wearing Matthias's skin. "You're not you, you don't belong here."
He knows the thing's name. If only he could get back to them properly, if only he could find a moment of awareness, he would be able to tell Sam, but he can't seem to get there. Every time he speaks the name it dissipates on the air and another lash is ripped across his back, leaving his skin bloody and raw.
Even the pain is distant, though. All Marcus knows is how tired he is. How much he just wants to close his eyes and sleep.
"Sleep, älskling," the thing wearing Matthias's face says gently. "Sleep now."
Marcus works up what little strength he has and spits in its face.
no subject
He's determined to do the same, just as he's determined to help Marcus do the job he was born to do.
"I stay inside," he answers slowly. "I've done this with Abra, to help keep her safe. If I can do it again, and I believe that I can, it's going to be like... one of those ridiculous body-swapping movies. You make physical contact at the end of an hour, and I turn the wheel again."
He presses a kiss to the corner of Marcus's mouth. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't think we could do it, and I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it has to be you who ends the demon. Please, let's try."
no subject
Something is keeping him from saying it. The only way will be for him to get out.
"I'm afraid," he admits. All his life he's been arrogant and sure of himself, but he's never denied his fear. Every time Tomas had claimed not to be afraid, Marcus had told him what a fool he would be if that were true. He's afraid now. Afraid for himself, for Dan, afraid for Sam and Neil and Kat. Afraid for Sabrina. They're all in danger and he doesn't like this plan. He can also see there really aren't any other options.
no subject
He could do it now, he thinks, a vague spinning feeling coming to him already.
Dan holds it off. He's made promises, he's made promises about when this moment came. Breaking them seems like a mistake, not just in their relationship, but the larger fight. "I've seen the human soul," he whispers, "with my own eyes. Seen hungry things swallow it down. Please don't make me watch it happen to yours. I love you, I trust you. You'll come back for me, and I will be easy to find."
no subject
"I love you," he says as he opens his eyes. "I'm not giving up. Let's do this."
He wonders if Dan has spoken to Sam about this. If he's going to open Dan's eyes and walk out of the room in Dan's body and scare the hell out of his friend trying to help him. There isn't really any time to ask, however, because he can feel something tugging at him. Something that feels like gravity, as if he's boarded one of those fair rides that use the force of their spinning to keep you pinned to the wall. That isn't quite it either, it isn't fast enough for that, but it's the closest thing he can think of at a moment like this.
no subject
turn
He kisses Marcus, open-mouthed and open-hearted, and all the while he's reaching, the fingers of the shine skidding over the controls. Just have to turn the wheel, just have to think about how you and abra did this and turn the wheel flip the switches shine
turn, turn
turn
And it does, and Dan is alone with the buzzing. He turns and runs.