Chapter Text
Dust blew back into Bruce’s face as the church door slammed shut. The rusted hinges made him wince as they screamed in protest, so unused to locking the world out. Bruce absently realized that the doors must’ve been open since the holy ground was built. A comforting pillar of the community, a standing monument of southern hospitality.
That would all change now.
The ghost of Clark’s lips burned against his, and all Bruce could think about was the blood that would forever stain the floorboards of the sheriff’s beloved church. It was unavoidable; he knew this. It was just a matter of whose blood it would be.
A creaking from above drew his attention. Sure, it could be the wind whipping outside. Or… it was footsteps. It was time, then.
With a resigned sigh, Bruce covered his face with the bandanna around his neck and began to stalk towards the staircase. He’d already memorized the unstable floorboards and avoided them with ease as he tiptoed up towards the attic. He wasn’t frightened, really. Instead, a cold sense of determination washed over him, dulling any thoughts of Clark still lingering in his mind. The steady hand on his six-shooter was certainly a comfort as well.
As he approached the door to the attic, a sharp laugh sounded from inside. Bruce flinched at the abrasive sound as if it was slicing through his skin.
“I can hear you outside… Come iiiiiiin!” the voice sing-songed.
God, that voice gave him chills. It sank into his bones like a sickness taking hold. He thought that if he ran now, it would leave claw marks on him.
With his free hand, Bruce nudged the wooden door. It swung open with an eerie creak to reveal the back of a thin man in a filthy purple vest. He fiddled with something in his lap that Bruce couldn’t see. Before he could take another step, the man’s back straightened at the sound of the rusty hinges.
“Aw, Brucie!” John Doe cackled over his shoulder. “I knew you’d find me here. Took you long enough, though! Barely survived a few run-ins with that trigger-happy brat of yours-”
“Shut up,” Bruce snapped. His patience was already wearing thin. Although his instincts screamed for him to run, he stepped further into the room.
Doe just pouted at him like a kicked puppy. “Don’t be mad, Brucie. Take your hand off that gun, you know you aren’t gonna kill me anyway.”
There was a moment of silence as they stared each other down before Bruce’s posture relaxed entirely. The hand that had been poised tightly around his gun fell to his side. For the first time in a while, the man didn’t look angry or tense. He simply looked weary.
“How’d you know?”
Doe only smiled wider, showing off his sickeningly yellow teeth. “We both know that if you really wanted me dead, you would’ve killed me years ago.”
Bruce looked away, chest swelling with guilt. It was true, but he would never admit it out loud.
“You almost killed my son,” he said bluntly instead.
“And?”
“I should kill you for that. I should fill you with lead right here. Or better yet, bludgeon you like you bludgeoned Jason. I’ll even find a clean crowbar for you.”
Doe snorted, “There’s no bite in your voice; you aren’t even fooling yourself. We both know why you’re here.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Did you know your youngest boy blunder is in town?” Doe changed the subject with ease. “Who am I kidding, of course you know. I’m only here because he’s been chasing me; I’d never stop in a pigsty like this without a literal gun to my head.”
Bruce instinctively opened his mouth to defend the little town, but stopped himself. Why did he suddenly care so much?
Before Bruce could investigate that thought further, Doe fiddled with whatever was in his lap again. It made a nauseating scraping sound tinged with something wet, causing Bruce to force back a gag. Finally, John Doe started to turn to face him completely. His spindly limbs unfurled like a spider spinning its web, his entire body twisting as he removed his hands from where they had been hidden.
“What are you-” Bruce was cut off by a gasp as his hand flew to his mouth.
Dear god, Doe had been clawing into the rotted floorboards with his bare fingernails. The torn, bloody stumps of his fingers left stains on the wood as he shuffled towards Bruce on all fours.
“I think,” he giggled, “you’re here to save me.”
“Save you from what?”
Bruce could barely breathe enough to speak as the outlaw grew closer. His entire body went stiff as Doe placed his bloody hands on the sides of Bruce’s face, leaning in impossibly closer to overwhelm him with rancid breath. All he could see were Doe’s decayed teeth on display in that unnatural smile, too wide for his own face.
“You’re here to save me from that little brat of yours, aren’t you? You’re going to kill Jason to stop him from killing me.”
________
A throbbing headache had started to form as Clark’s eyes strained against the darkness of the empty saloon. Jason had drawn all of the blinds, leaving them both in pitch black, except for a few candles that were along the walls. The blinds didn’t stop Jason from obsessively checking outside though. Every few minutes, he would stop whatever tirade he was on and peek through the window, as if expecting someone to come looking for him.
“Bruce don’t even know you’re here, kid,” Clark sighed for what must have been the fifth time. “He ain’t coming.”
“He’ll be here any moment now,” Jason insisted, growing more agitated every time he looked out onto the empty street.
“I doubt it. He thinks you’re dead, you know.”
While Jason had his back turned, Clark tested the strength of the rope around his wrists. He had been tied to a high chair at the bar, both wrists and ankles bound securely, locking him in place. He’d considered toppling over the chair somehow, but he’d likely smash his head against the ground from the height. Still, he struggled against the rope and hoped Jason had forgotten to secure a knot that might come loose.
Jason snorted as he turned away from the window. “Nah, he’s well aware I’m still alive and kicking. It’s just easier for him to pretend I’m dead. Means he doesn’t have to deal with the shit he put me through.”
That made Clark pause.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you that part?” Jason snickered. He sauntered towards Clark as if to mock him for his lack of mobility.
“Look, kid, I ain’t gonna assume what Bruce did to ya, but I swear to the Lord above he talks about you like he loves you more than anything. He’s so quiet, so reverent, when it comes to you and your brother-”
“Bullshit!” Jason snapped, angrily trapping Clark against the bar with both of his arms. Clark squirmed away from Jason, but he couldn’t go anywhere. “That stupid fucking clown beat me within an inch of my life and Bruce did nothing. Won’t even lay a hand on Doe for what he did to me, and Lord knows he’s had the opportunity.”
“W-wait, Doe?!” Clark said. “Bruce is with him now! He’s getting his revenge, I swear it!”
Silence. For a long moment, Jason just continued glaring at him, inches away from his face, until Clark was worried he was about to be strangled. Then suddenly, Jason stepped back. A strange, curious smile graced his face.
“You really think he’s in there to kill Doe?”
Clark’s heart fell through the floor.
“...Isn’t he?”
To Clark’s bewilderment, Jason shook his head. That smile only got wider, like a child who had just heard a dirty joke. The next words that came out of his mouth made Clark’s breath stop.
“He’s not killing Doe. He’s trying to save him. From me.”