The Hellhound

Ch. Thirty-Nine

"They're just matches burning holes in my soul."

- Shinedown

                                                                                               ***

"Where did you go?" Galloway's voice filtered down around him. "Why have you left me alone for so long?"

Sirius groaned, struggling to force himself awake. Then he stopped, breath catching. Why was he asleep? He wasn't supposed to sleep. You didn't need to sleep in Purgatory.

He opened his eyes to find nothing but darkness surrounding him. Where had her voice come from?

"S-Sirius?"

He whirled around at the tentative sound to find her standing behind him. Her grey eyes were wide and hollow in her lovely face. Her gaze darted nervously toward the blackness surrounding them before she took a halting step forward.

Sirius reached out, pulling her into his arms and he could breathe again. She pressed her face against his chest, fingers digging into his back. Fine tremors wracked her body, making him tighten his hold on her.

How was she here? How had she known to find him?

"I'm always looking for you," she whispered, making him realize he'd actually voiced those questions. She tilted her head back to look at him. "My Soul's always searching for yours."

"I don't have a Soul," he reminded her gently, making her huff.

"And mine's in little pieces." She swallowed hard before giving a small shrug. "I don't know, Sirius. I just heard you calling, so I followed the sound."

His throat constricted and he lifted a hand, tucking a few strands of silky hair behind her ear. He didn't know if she was real, but it almost didn't matter. He would take anything he could get right now. She smelled right; it didn't seem like a trick.

It was enough.

"I'm coming back," he promised. "I'm going to set you free. I'm going to save you."

Galloway smiled, the expression melancholy. Gently, she took his face between her hands. The calluses across the top of her palms scratched lightly at his skin as he placed his hands over hers, pressing more firmly into her touch.

She gave him a light kiss before she rested her forehead against his. "I believe you," she murmured. Then she pulled back, brow furrowing. "But you told me once you don't know how to save anything."

That was true. He had only ever been taught to take. To steal. To destroy. Never to save.

"I'll learn," he rasped, knowing he didn't have anything else to offer her. "I'll do whatever I need to."

She smiled again, biting her lip to hide the small wobble he noticed. Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers through the unruly strands of hair around his face, making his eyelids go heavy and sent a shiver racing down his spine. 

"Are you going to want what's left of me?" she whispered, making his eyes open wide again. She pressed a kiss to his mouth before she laid her head on his shoulder. "When this is over—if it's ever over—are you going to want me when I'm not..."

A huff of pained breath left him as he buried his face in her hair.

"Always." He held her more tightly. "You could be nothing but scraps, sweetheart. I can't live without you."