Purgatory

Into the woods (again)

Author's note:

Okay, this took a while, I just struggled with the... Emotions.

*Hides in cave*

Tell me what you think below, I'd like to hear your take on it.

I'd like to thank my fantastic beta Anastacius_Arklov whom has been absolutely amazing!

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Artemis landed on his back, winded. A cold wet feeling trickled down his neck, the dribbling of a stream purred in his ear. He sat up surveying the familiar terrain, his shirt was soaked through, stained pink by the mingling of blood and water.

He peered at the mouth of the cave, where he had fallen through the door. Bloody hell.

When he tried to sit, regret was instantaneous.

God, his side hurt.

He pulled out a demon knife; made of pure oblivion and blessed by an Aztec priest, out of his combat boot and held it between his numb fingers, it glinted in the morning light. He glanced around him, no hostiles in sight.

He dragged himself out of the shallow water and tried to catch his breath, but it wouldn't come. The quiet of the clearing was too loud, his thoughts buzzing angrily around him, a swarm of vengeful hornets.

It was yet to seen what exactly the angel had done to him, but the veil of numbness that dampened his guilt, his joy, his hurt... had lifted. He could feel it in a crisp clarity that he hadn't known for years.

The world was real, tangible, but it was also sharp and jagged. Perhaps that was good, the pain cutting through the mist like dead tissue shed from skin. Maybe it meant the parts of himself that were rotting were cast away.

He took a breath. There was no fighting, no orders to yell, no reports to write.

What did he do now? He was in purgatory, and Ali wasn't here. Should he go back? Should he go home? Would anybody care?

He had killed people; he had tortured people and for the life of him , couldn't figure out why it was only hitting him now. He had known before; good god , he had done it.

Something damp brushed against his knuckle. He looked down and saw the cat nuzzling at his hand with her nose, meowing softly. He stroked her, the fur soft against his skin. Eyes closed, all his focus was on her.

He was woozy to say the least. Probably from the blood loss. He laughed; Butler would lose his mind if he could see him now.

Artemis eyes drooped, lulled by the rhythmic purring. Distantly, he noticed Bast nosing his chest where the wound was. Bast meowed desperately, headbutting his hand to get his attention. But it was too late; sleep had already taken a firm grasp on his mind.

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A frustrated yowl escaped Bast as she transformed into a panther, taking off at speed.

Trees whipped by and still the cat ran, for hours, finally stopping at a group, treading through the trees. The group converged on a lone man.

Bast, tired of Benny playing with his food, pounced and ripped the werewolf limb from stringy limb.

Benny stared, a little horrified, a little flattered, "Thanks." Then, "Not that I needed any help."