What Wicked Lurks Within (Avengers x Reader)

Chapter 13

Tony grabbed your ankle and a scream rose up in your throat, which quickly died upon identifying him. He wheezed, on account of no air reaching his lungs and blood had begin to seep into his eyes.

With his non-existent strength that remained, he urged you toward the door, begging you to save yourself because it had become evident to him that he no longer could. What Tony did not know, or most likely did know and had chosen to ignore in his state of suffocating fugue was that he was your family - and family did not get left behind.

Besides the fact that the door had stayed unresponsive to him and Bucky, which Tony also effectively managed to ignore. Struggling in his grip, you dragged yourself toward Clint, your mind made up to ask him to resign you to the same fate as Wanda had inflicted on the others.

An eternity had lapsed in the last three days - so much was lost, and so much remained to be lost still.

The only motion you could conjure was an outstretched hand, suddenly finding yourself at a loss of words, lacking in experience of speaking to someone who had abandoned the world of the living but not quite accepted that of the dead. Clint did not seem to mind, or even notice for that matter.

He turned his head to Wanda, enveloping her face with his hands, ever so gently so as not to cause any more tissue damage for there was no healing within the house's realm. They stared at each other - a silent, wordless stare that lasted so long, you were afraid the men at your feet were dead - but when it was over, Wanda gasped likes she had crawled out of a grave; seeing, feeling, breathing for the first time in centuries.

Her eyes met yours and you could easily identify the change they bore - pained yet altered nonetheless - aware, some would argue. "I'm sorry." As soon as the words left Wanda's lips, air rushed into Tony's lungs, and Bucky's alike. The two men, between dry rasps and heavy heaving, succeeded in rising to their knees and slowly but steadily, on their feet.

"They made me do it." Wanda seemed like she wanted to step up and help her wavering teammates gain sound footing but kept withdrawing herself in fear of doing more harm than good. "The house... I don't know what I was doing. I could not think!"

You wished to comfort Wanda and Wanda wished to comfort you, yet the two of you stayed rooted to your place, separated by the vast ocean that existed between life and death. Clint rubbed Wanda's shoulder unattentively, brooding over the lack of time and the dire situation.

"It will not be long before Wanda turns back into being what she was mere moment ago, as will I. The house assimilates everyone in itself indiscriminately. All of you must leave at once." Clint could already feel the walls vibrating. Something was coming, something much worse. The door stayed ajar. 'So it was Wanda who had been holding them closed.' Bucky concluded.

"You can come with us. Both of you. And Steve. Where's Steve?" They would still not be alive, but Bucky figure it was a decent bargain. Wanda smiled - sadly this time - a smile that wished for things aware of their impossibility. "None of us can leave here. I think you know that, deep down somewhere. But you still can. Go."

The unwillingness to leave at the expense of others was palpable. And yet, Clint and Wanda stood guard between the three of you and everything that lurked within the house. Denying their plea would simultaneously mean insulting everything they had done for you, in life and in death.

Unsteadily, you lurched toward the door, holding onto Tony and Bucky for dear life. This seemed like a good time to hold hands, it also seemed like a good time to crumble to the ground and cry until the sky shattered down, but that could be reserved for later. The night was still young.

The colossal doors stood open and holding them such way was Steve himself. It was rather apparent that a force older than Wanda had taken hold of the house - she was no longer in control, if she ever was to begin with. How he appeared so serene when the Gods had failed him altogether was onerous to figure out, if anyone naïve enough was to so wish.

"Thank you, guys. For everything." Although not articulated in the remotely decent of manners, Tony had enough sense left to make an audible show gratitude and you were glad he did, for you would sooner vomit than utter a single word.

Ducking under Steve's arms, the three of you exited the monstrosity, the support offered to each other being not only physical but also emotional; notwithstanding that the entire experience would account for hundreds of nightmares and breakdowns for the rest of your lives. On the other side waited Natasha and Sam with tears in their eyes and foreboding in the hearts, who rightfully seized the first opportunity to fling themselves at their friends and bring them to their chests.

Whilst still being held by Natasha like you were the one thing she had lost and by proxy, the one thing she had found, you slowly turned to face the house one last time, exhausting enough of your remaining stamina that it would not be particularly startling if you were to sink to your knees the very next moment.

The house stood leering, seemingly unaffected by all that had transpired. Steve smiled - which made the whole thing even more eerie, if such a deed were possible to achieve - you wondered if he was aware, before letting go and allowing the doors to swing shut.

Even in death Steve had made the ultimate decision to not only effectively bar his friends from ever venturing into the hell that had cultivated itself on earth but more importantly, sealing himself into eternal damnation.