In a Cottage in the Woods There Lived a Witch

A Bitching of Witches

When Billy finally came to, it was like swimming through mud. Like coming out of a fevered sleep, sickness still clinging to his body. He tried to shift, but his limbs protested violently, cramping and stinging in the process. He whined lightly, the sound far too loud in his ears for the silence around him. Maybe he could afford to keep resting for a moment longer. There was no telling when the owner of the cellar would return, but certainly they wouldn't in the next five minutes. Besides, being awake would mean nothing if he couldn't even move.

Yeah.

Five minutes more of rest just so that he could be as close to his best as possible and then they'd move.

He was almost back to sleep when something damp touched his shoulder, lighting the raw nerves on fire with the contact and rocketing him into awareness. A growl ripped from his throat, tearing the soft tissue on it's way out. He moved to stand, thrashing his body in the process, when a voice pushed through his rage, calling, "Ad lapide."

Magick spread across Billy's body, but not in the way he was used to. When Henry's witches used magick on him, it felt like a taser shock. Like being electrocuted. It tensed up his muscles and sent him rigid with pain and adrenaline. But this magick... this felt... almost warm. Like laying out in the sun or stepping into a hot shower. It was like huge, warm hands were covering Billy and holding him in place. There was firmness in the hold, of course, but there was also care. Like the magick didn't want to put too much pressure on a body that it knew was weak and wounded.

Witches, his mind supplied as his heart kicked up approximately eleven notches despite the gentleness of the magick that held him. The cellar had belonged to witches. Really he should have known, given all the damned jars down there. Nothing a witch loved more than a dusty old jar. Maybe candles.

Slowly, the events of the previous day and night filtered back into his mind. Finding the cellar in the height of the storm. Turning back into a man just long enough to haul the doors, blessedly unlocked, open and get them both down into shelter. Waking to find four witches poised to attack. Being taken upstairs and, instead of being tortured, being tended to. Salves and stitches and soft clean cloths dipped in warm herb-scented water. The scent of concern and fear laced with traces of anger as a voice thick with emotion spoke.

Someone did this to them. Someone saw these animals and they did this to them...

I'm not going to lose them at all...

Maybe they'll want to hang around when they're all patched up...

Eddie? He reached out with all senses to find the little vampire, catching his heartbeat and his scent behind him, but receiving no answer down the line. It was little comfort that Eddie's breathing was at least even, if still shallow. Billy sniffed again, catching notes of honey and herbs swirling around the two of them.

"Easy there, Cujo," the voice of a man just out of his field of vision soothed. "Just trying to get you cleaned off. Don't want anything catching on your fur and pulling on stitches."

Hands as soft as the voice that spoke to him gently touched Billy after that, moving him easily, despite the rigidity of his muscles. Gods, magick sucked. He couldn't move if his life depended on it, and it might have, but whoever had cast the stupid spells was adjusting him like a doll. Laying his head back down, pushing his limbs back to the table like he was still sleeping.

"Did he pull any stitches," another voice, this time female, asked from the opposite end of Billy's blind spot. More gentle hands parted his fur and the first voice made a thoughtful sound before it answered, "no, it doesn't look like it."

And then a face moved into his field of vision. The first voices' face, if the strong jaw and heavy brow were anything to go by. He looked... concerned. Really concerned. And not concerned about Billy but more... concerned for him. Billy watched him carefully as the man seemed to come to a conclusion and moved out of his field of vision again. This time, the growl that Billy gave was involuntary. The voice sounded again, soothing Billy with gentle, "I know"s and "it's probably really scary, right"s.