Wesley

Wesley slept fitfully, troubled by vivid dreams. He was back in Talltop, and then…

And then he woke up. He couldn't quite recall any particulars about the dream, but there had been something strangely soothing about it.

It was still black outside. After tossing around for a few minutes, he eventually gave up on the idea of getting any more sleep that night. He got dressed and left the clinic to pee down the slope, then sat on the porch to look out at the star-studded sky and the little array of amber lights below it that made up the town.

A large building near the center of town was lit up brighter than the rest, and muffled sounds of merriment trickled out from it.

"I wonder what they're celebrating," someone said, and Wesley looked up to see Sam standing in the open doorway. With a shrug, she added: "I hope it's a going-away party."

"I'm not so sure you should be walking around," Wesley said hesitantly. "The doctor was pretty clear…"

Her condition had improved significantly since her Healing Factor had come back online at some point during the evening—enough that the doctor had felt it was safe to leave her without supervision overnight—but he had told Wesley to keep her lying down as much as possible.

With a long groan, Sam took a seat next to him, clutching at her ribs with gritted teeth, then let out a sigh of relief as she leaned back against the facade. "I'm fine. Can't sleep, that's all."

"Me either."

"With everything that's been going on, I guess it's not so strange."

"True." He drummed his fingers against his folded legs, trying to think of something to fill the silence with. "You get any dreams? Like, about Talltop?"

"Not really, no. Not about Talltop, anyway."

"Huh. It's strange—the dream felt so real, but I can't remember any of it…"

She glanced over at him with a tired smile, her head tipped back against the wall. "No offense, Oatmeal, but I don't think a slightly odd dream will crack the top ten of weirdest things that have happened this week."

Wesley gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Yeah, I guess."

"What do you think you'll do once we get back to Sheerhome?" Sam asked after a bit. "Once all the dramatic stuff is done with, I mean."

"Um… I don't really know. Whatever I end up doing, it'll probably be far, far away from you guys. No offense."

Sam laughed. "None taken. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry—I know I've got a bit of a knack for getting into trouble. I never meant for you to get wrapped up in that."

Wesley gave a slow nod, and peered up at the stars. "Yeah," he said, sighing. "What about you?"

"Probably sleep for about three days straight."

"And after that?"

"After that I'm gonna fuck my boyfriend until he's pissing blood."

"Right. Kinda wish I hadn't asked."

Then a third voice joined in the conversation, saying: "There you are, my little Darling!" followed by a telltale click-clack of wood on wood.

Wesley started and let out an undignified little squeak.

Magpie was suddenly standing on the porch between him and Sam, hands stuck deep in the pockets of her ragged cut-offs and wearing a self-satisfied grin that glinted in the dark. "You kids weren't about to start kissing or anything, were you? I can come back later if I'm interrupting."

"Mags," Sam said in an uncharacteristically dark tone, and laboriously rose back to her feet by supporting herself against the wall. "Why'd you leave us like that?"

Wesley remained where he was, quite unable to move a muscle.

"Sorry, sorry," Magpie replied with a laugh and a noncommittal shrug. "I guess I got a bit too into it while I was chasing that loser—lost track of time. He got away too, can you believe it? Just typical of a fella like that, for his only talent to be hiding like a fucking roach." She looked from Sam to Wesley, then back again. "Buuut I guess things turned out all right in the end, since you all made it here safe and sound."

"We didn't all make it," Sam retorted, and took one slow step so the two women were standing uncomfortably close to one another. "If you'd actually stuck around, you could have prevented that."

"Really? Aw man, sorry about that."

Sam opened her mouth to say something, but Wesley beat her to it. "Please," he whispered urgently, "just let it go. There's nothing that can be done about it now." And pissing Magpie off seemed like a very, very bad idea. She was clearly some kind of next-level psychopath.

"Which one are you again?" Magpie asked, and Wesley regretted speaking as the woman's attention fell on him again, peering down at him over her ample bosom. "Sorry, I'm really bad with names—and faces, actually; just two of my many faults."

Before he had a chance to answer, she snapped her fingers at him, making him flinch with the suddenness of it. "Wait, I remember you! You're the whiny one. Now that I think about it, I believe you have something that belongs to me." She went down on her haunches, smiling, and held out her hand expectantly. "And what do we say when we borrow something?"

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Wesley followed her gaze, landing on the large revolver stuck through his belt. He'd picked it up on a whim after Mongrel had thrown it away. Even though it wouldn't fire, the weight of it helped center him, somehow. He hadn't realized he was wearing it.

For some reason, the idea of parting with it felt… wrong.

He found himself placing a hand protectively on the grip and turning slightly away from her, even though he couldn't exactly say why he wanted the thing in the first place; even though giving Magpie a reason to blow his head off was the last thing he wanted to do.

Magpie slowly let her hand drop. The silver star amulet she wore tucked in her cleavage glinted weakly with the movement. "Oh, all right. You can keep it, I suppose." Then she paused, eyebrows raised, as though waiting for something.

"Thank… you?" Wesley said.

"There you go!" She ruffled his hair a bit and gave him a clap on the cheek before standing back up. "Such a polite young man. Maybe it's for the best that it stays with you, anyway. The sheriff might get lonely in there without somebody to talk to, and lord knows I'd probably just throw him in my Inventory and forget to feed or walk him. I was always bad at keeping pets alive—another weakness of mine."

"The sheriff?" Sam asked. "You mean a piece of him is left in the gun because he Soulbound it?"

Magpie smirked, gave a lazy shrug. "Sure. Let's call it that."

"The man who attacked us back in those woods—he called you Crow."

"Did he now?" the older woman said without glancing in Sam's direction. "That's funny."

"Are you?"

"Am I what? Pretty? Absolutely. Clever? Yessirree. Great at parties? I'd certainly say so."

"Are you Crow? The Crow?"

"I dunno—what do you think?" Magpie pivoted on one foot to face Sam, grinning wide.

Sam stared her down. "Yeah. I'm thinking so."

Magpie just kept smiling. She held up her left hand, removed the bracelet she wore on that wrist, and spun the little band of black beads around on one finger. There was a brief glow around her left forearm, and where there had been fifteen AP crystals a moment ago, there were now thirty—along with three of those special orange ones above them. "Cat's out of the bag, I guess," she said in a low, sing-song voice.

"Crow," Sam said.

"Yes, dear?" Magpie—Crow—replied.

"What did you do to the goddess?"

"Oh, just one of these." Crow spun back toward Wesley, and he pressed himself flat to the wall as she raised two fingers to point square at his head, one eye squeezed shut and biting down on her lower lip.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

In two long strides, Sam had put herself between Wesley and the psycho, and refused to back down even as Crow's fingers touched her forehead.

"Bang," Crow said.

Wesley flinched.

Sam was a statue.

Seconds passed. Nothing happened. Nobody died.

"See?" Crow said with a laugh as she took a step back, and blew imaginary smoke off her fingertips. "That's why I like you, Sam. You've got guts like crazy. Real main character material. Now, that one?" She peeked over Sam's shoulder at Wesley. "He's barely an extra."

God, I hope so.

"Quit screwing with us," Sam said, her voice eerily calm. She nodded down at Crow's chest. "That necklace you're wearing—what is it? It feels wrong. Sort of like a curse."

"Yes, I can see how a pure-hearted thing like you would be good at sniffing those out. But no, it's not a curse."

"Then what is it?"

"Maybe I'll tell you—once you're strong enough to take it off me." She thrust her chest out, cocked her head suggestively. "Wanna give it a shot?"

"No. I don't have any illusions about fighting you. You'd just kill me."

"Aw, that's a shame. But I suppose we can leave it for another day. Speaking of which…" She turned her head toward the large, noisy building over yonder. "It seems to me like that Big Deal Buck fellow has agreed to join up. Know what time we're leaving for Sheerhome? If it's gonna be a while, I might still be able to get some drinking done."

"You're not coming with us," Sam said firmly. "I refuse to travel with someone like you."

"Oh-ho! Such bravado! But you just admitted yourself that you're not strong enough to beat me. So, let's say I decide to tag along anyway. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm sure you can get your way if you want it badly enough—you'll just have to kill me over it."

"Sounds like a stupid way to die."

"Yeah, well, I'm the queen of stupid."

Crow looked at her for a long time, then ran a hand through her messy mane of hair and shrugged. "All right, all right, I'll give. The Frontier would be a much duller place without you in it. There are so few interesting people left these days." She let her hand fall limp. "You know, as long as we're being candid, I just want to say that I love what you did with your divine vow. I've been dying to ask you about it."

"My divine vow is none of your business," Sam said, crossing her big arms.

Wesley frowned. What the hell is a divine vow? Of course, he did not want to know the answer badly enough to actually ask. He was quite happy with being entirely ignored. Maybe if Crow kept her attention on Sam, he could find an opportunity to sneak off…

"Did you come up with it yourself?" Crow went on, entirely ignoring Sam's admonition. "Or did someone help you out? You'd only get the amount of points you have by convincing the Concord to grant them retroactively, or…" She smiled. "By making your vow before even choosing your profession, all the way back in the Tower. Which means you'd probably need someone feeding you information from the other side, somehow. That's next-level stuff."

Sam said nothing.

"Let me guess. Your dear old dad give you a couple pointers?"

"What?" Sam asked with a sudden frown. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Crow laughed and held up her hands in a defensive gesture. "Shit, my bad—I didn't know that was a sore spot for you. I guess you and daddy dearest aren't on speaking terms, then? Not too surprising, considering his… strong personality."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. My dad's still alive. On Earth."

Crow twisted her face in a bad attempt to conceal her grin. "Right. Of course. Whatever you say, little Darling."

"He's alive."

"I said all right, Jesus! No need to get so touchy." Then, tapping her chin with one finger, she said: "Well, if it wasn't him, then… Ah! That 'best friend' you talked about! Will, was it?"

"Don't talk about him."

"Aw, c'mon. Don't you want to gossip about boys with me?"

"I want you to leave."

"But we're having so much fun together! Just two good friends having a nice little chat. Unless…" She cocked an eyebrow. "Unless I've grossly misread our relationship. Unless you think of me as an enemy. Oh dear, that would be deeply hurtful for me. Hurtful enough to make a woman lash out, maybe.

"You seem to care about this Will fellow a great deal. I wonder… I wonder what kind of face you would make if I paid him a visit, left him a couple limbs shy of a professional tap dancing career." She gave a bright, sparkling laugh. "Kidding! I'd never do something like that to a good friend of mine. Because… we are friends, aren't we?"

Sam said nothing for a long while. Then, through gritted teeth: "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Friends."

Crow's grin widened, and took on a positively demonic edge in the dark. "That's my girl."

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