Archive of Our Own

Willow’s watery cry of joy echoes in Hunter’s ears in a way that makes him clutch at his chest, feeling like he’s drowning in dark waters again.

Perhaps he would be better at simply being happy for her if it weren’t because hers isn’t the only expression of relieved happiness that resonates through the room; if anything, there’s a bit of a racket going on between happy screams, loud sobbing and people talking either incoherently or in a fast-paced manner to their loved ones. Hunter can’t really fault any of them for that, reuniting with your family after such a long time separated is not something you can easily move on from. 

Not that he would know how it feels.

A shudder goes through his body and he hugs himself in the hopes he can get rid of the chill crawling up his veins and making him feel like something is squeezing his throat. His clothes lay dry against his skin, but his time as a puppet doesn’t seem to have done a lot to change the state he was in previous to the Collector finding them. It’s hard to find comfort in his own body when his head is spinning and he has to dig his nails in the skin of his arms to stop shaking, feeling in lack of control over the only thing that had belonged to him for so long. 

He hopes that it doesn’t feel quite that distressing for the people reunited in the hall, slowly regaining use of their limbs as they are. Most of them are sitting down, leaning against the walls or against their loved ones, sometimes even being held up by them as the Collector’s mending spell makes its way through their bodies, first from their faces and then through the rest of them.

It would feel out of place to go and interrupt any of his friend’s reunions when they haven’t seen their families in months, but with nothing else to do but watch Hunter can’t stop looking at people as they regain control over their limbs and start stretching to get rid of a stiffness that he isn’t even sure if it’s there, with how they seem to be restored to the exact same state they were before being turned. Although he wouldn’t know, he supposes, even if he was a puppet himself not too long ago, he’s foreign to feeling anything else but exhaustion and soreness upon his body, the restlessness he experienced those months at the Human Realm keeping him from ever feeling completely alright. 

That too might be a happy concept he’s been dreaming about that doesn’t actually exist, just like his hopes of ever getting to experience a normal life in a land he helped wreck. 

Gilbert Park laughs –or was that Harvey? Hunter is almost sure that he got the names right by this point, but he clearly has a thick skull since he can’t help but commit mistakes over and over again–, his arm completely freed from the Collector’s spell and squeezing his daughter’s hand as she speaks with a huge grin in her face, tears still traveling down her cheeks steadily. On her other side, Harvey –or Gilbert, was Gilbert the one with the glasses?– Park seems to be faring more or less the same, with the arm Willow is holding now flesh and bone rather than wood and string; he seems to be weeping softly far too much to contribute to the conversation his husband and his daughter are having but it hardly seems to matter, as the warmth irradiating from it seems to be spreading through his body at the same rate as his husband’s. Literally.

Contact. The word comes to Hunter a moment before he manages to put it together, but it seems like the physical contact is helping the spell be reverted.

His heart starts beating loudly, and his eyes go from the Parks, to Gus and his dad, whose entire chest seems to have turned back to normal as his son clings to his neck and refuses to let go, and then to Amity, who’s talking enthusiastically to Alador Blight while her mom sits close to the windows in a slow recovering state. 

It would be easy to feel bad for her; it can’t be easy to recover awareness when you’re in a state that doesn’t even allow you to move. But she can’t seriously expect her daughter to go and help her when she was never there for Amity to hold onto when she was feeling lonely or scared, can she? Hunter doesn’t even need to try to feel sympathy for her, he already knows he has none. 

More importantly, this gives him enough evidence to tell that physical contact is the key for the puppets to be turned back faster. Even if there’s no place for him here, he can at least help a little. 

Before he can actively think about it, his feet are already moving in the direction of the first lone person he sort of recognizes and crouching near the spot on the wall they’re trying to recover in. With no one checking on them it’s rather obvious there’s a scarcity of healers with the amount of people left to be depuppeted. 

“Do you need some help?” 

The person gasps, though Hunter isn’t sure if that’s because nobody in the coven really offered anybody help or because they’re heavily disoriented from having been the toy of a child deity for so long. Their uniform, though modified to fit more the peculiar style the Collector seems to favor, is still plenty recognizable. 

“Golden guard?”

He knew there was a possibility of this, of course, but it doesn’t stop him from tensing on instinct. Depending on how this person knows him, his reputation could go either way. “You know me?”

“Of course I know you! I used to be in one of your squadrons!” They don’t sound reproachful, to Hunter’s relief, but now they’re sweeping him from head to toe with their eyes, looking more and more incredulous with each detail they take in. He makes an effort not to hug himself again. “What… what happened to you?”

How long has it been since he last drank water? His throat feels so dry all of a sudden, and Hunter sees the witch’s eyes follow the movement as he gulps with difficulty. It’s a good reminder of why his mask used to be so practical. 

“I-I can help you,” He says.

The witch blinks, and Hunter vaguely wonders if they have always been so expressive behind the mask, just like him, or if it’s a result of them being unable to move the rest of their body; the spell retreating through their neck is going awfully slow.

“Ah… I appreciate that but they already brought me to…” they look around and lower their voice, seemingly wary of being heard despite the hall being now a relatively safe place, “the Collector. I was told the spell could take a couple hours to be undone, since I was caught on the Day of Unity.”

They sound resigned, but Hunter’s heart starts beating faster because for once, he has a solution to a problem he sort of contributed to make. 

“No! I mean, yes, that’s how it works! But don’t you see?” He points to the families reuniting around them, uncaring of how out of place this kind of attitude must be if all they’ve seen is the stoic, confident act he used to put on as the Golden Guard. There are far more important things to focus on, after all. “I figured it out, the spell works faster if someone is touching you.”

The ex-scout’s eyes follow the direction of his hand and their eyes soften with a longing that feels far too familiar for Hunter’s liking. 

“I guess you’re right, but I’m not sure-”

“Please,” Hunter knows he must look incredibly off putting right now, looking like he crawled his way back from hell –and isn’t that kind of accurate anyway?–, and so eager to just do something . But he can’t take another second of standing there and watching everybody get back a life he’ll never have the chance to participate in. “I want to help, it’s the least I can do.”

For everything he did as Golden Guard, for every stupid mistake he made afterward, for being such a naive fool who handed palismen to Belos despite knowing they used to belong to someone, for being so stupid it took him so long to realize. 

He can’t make things right, but he can stop being such a failure for once. 

The witch looks at his face and while Hunter isn’t sure he wants to know what they’re seeing in there, it seems to be enough. “Alright.”

Hunter’s lungs ache as he releases air he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and he crouches a little closer, wavering hands suddenly unsure of where to settle until he sets on putting one hand on their shoulder. His hand shakes slightly over the white cloak, but since the ex-scout’s shoulder is still wood, they don’t notice. 

“Is this fine with you?” He whispers. 

“Sure,” they look curious at him, but he thinks it’s a reasonable question to make; shoulder touches can be quite uncomfortable sometimes. 

He takes a deep breath. 

“Now we wait then. It should start any minute.”

The witch nods, but doesn’t say anything.

Hunter doesn’t know what to say either, but it occurs to him that maybe he should try; talk about how he understands how hard it is to realize your whole life has been a lie, apologize about all the damages he caused, directly or indirectly, maybe even comment on the new color of the sky, though that seems far too similar to talking about the weather and from what Luz told him, that topic always means the conversation is awkward and you don’t know what to say, right? Even if that's true, he doesn’t want to be so obvious about it. 

Especially because no matter how much he wants to use the cheers and cries still going strong at his back to have an excuse to look another way, he knows he has to keep looking at the ex-scout in order to see once the transformation starts accelerating. If he calculates how long it takes for each person, he’ll be able to know more or less how many people he can help. 

It would be nice if this were less awkward though. 

He clears his throat a couple of times, while the ex-scout seems to be taking advantage of the fact they will feel it if anything changes, but everything seems to be exactly like when this started during the first five minutes. 

And then the next five. 

And the next. 

The more time that happens without any visible changes, the more that Hunter’s face falls, and he can’t help but squeeze the shoulder he’s holding in a gesture that’s far too reminiscent for his own liking. Good thing they can’t feel it. 

“It’s… not working.”

He doesn’t drop his hand, even as the ex-scout sighs with lungs they must be able to use, though he has no reason to think that means any difference is happening when they’ve been breathing and talking to him this whole time. The spell either undid enough for people not to die while they waited for the effects of the original spell to subside, or it’s magic that keeps them breathing. In any other situation, he would be almost excited to find out, but he can feel the heat crawling up his neck as the humiliation of being unable to help sinks in. 

Is this because he’s not actually a witch? The Collector knew what he was, but they wouldn’t have put such a limitation, right? Do they think he’s not trustworthy? Or is it just only that he’s not enough of a person to help and this has nothing to do with him being restricted specifically? Is he being as much help as an actual puppet trying to offer warmth?

Maybe his hands are made only for harm. Maybe he’ll truly continue being nothing more than a failure when it comes to saving others because the only thing he knows how to do is hurt others. 

“I figured that would happen,” the ex-scout offers with an apologetic smile that makes Hunter feel nauseous. Do they know? Can they tell there’s something wrong with him just by looking at him? “Take a look at everyone again.”

Hunter doesn’t want to, feeling like his stomach is about to coil onto itself like the necks of a hydra seeing everything succeed while he continues falling behind. Even at this, even when he’s genuinely trying. 

But he turns around, because he’s never been good at anything other than following orders, has he?

His eyes naturally drift to the Porters first, who are now standing up, with Gus’ dad looking completely like himself again while he carries his kid in the tightest hug Hunter has ever seen, though it seems like Gus is hugging him back with just as much strength. 

It hurts, seeing what sets him apart from everyone. Even more so when his eyes turn to Alador Blight and the Parkers, seeing how they seem to be completely themselves as well. 

Only his attempt failed. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-” know why this is happening , he wants to say, terrified that what’s wrong with him is so entrenched onto himself that even a primal sort of magic such as the Collector’s can pick up on it. His hand shakes on the ex-scout’s shoulder. “Maybe if we give it another five minutes?”

The other is already shaking their head before Hunter is done, and it makes him feel even worse as he takes his hand away. 

“It’s all families and friends,” They say wistfully, that look of longing back on their eyes. “I don’t think touch alone is enough to undo the spell.”

That… Hunter whips his head around again, staring at each person reuniting with their loved ones in the hall with a startle. Could that really be it? Of course nobody would be taking time off their emotional reunions to seek out their coworkers or anybody they don’t have strong feelings for, unless they have no other purpose left in the world, he supposes… his breathing feels lighter again though the nausea in his stomach doesn’t subside. 

He’s lucky that his friends and him weren’t puppets for that long. Nobody would have been able to help him turn back faster if they had, nobody would have cared to try even, not while his friends were in the same situation. 

The ex-scout sighs again. “I abandoned my family long ago to join the coven, so I don’t think there are many chances of someone helping me. But I appreciate that you tried.”

The smile they direct at him looks sincere, but Hunter doesn’t feel worthy of it. 

“It just ended up being a waste of your time,” He doesn’t mean to sound so pitiful but if not this, he isn’t sure what he is supposed to do.

“Nah, it was worth a shot. I probably deserved this anyway, I guess we all did after following the emperor for so long,” Hunter isn’t sure what to say; if it comes to blame for their actions at the coven, he sure must stand at the top for once. “Hindsight is a bit of a bitch.”

At least you didn’t kill your best friend with your own hands . Although he supposes he has no idea if that’s true, his unc-Belos always liked to test people’s loyalty to the coven, and friends and family were always the first bonds one had to cut if they hoped to be successful in the noble cause of digging their own graves for a living. 

“No point on lamenting it all now, I guess,” They wince, the wood from their neck turning so slowly into skin again that it might as well have been a carcohl manually getting rid of the spell with one of their viscous tendrils. 

Hunter shudders. 

“I’m sorry.”

They look curiously at him. “You know, I had never really thought that much about it, but you really are just a kid, aren’t you? Don’t beat yourself over it too much, we have bigger problems to tackle first.”

Hunter has thought about that too, he’s not oblivious to the possibility they all could get arrested for the atrocious acts they committed. Even if they were just following orders, they should have known better, right? At least he was always required to be one step ahead of the game, and even if that never meant realizing the extent of Belos’ lies, it’s still a testament to his character that he didn’t notice what was going on until he was practically slapped in the face by it. 

The ex-scout’s breath suddenly hitches. 

“Head Witch!” He startles. Do they mean him or maybe it could be…? He startles, almost falling on the ground on his effort to turn around quickly while still crouching down. “I mean! Lilith!”

Disappointment fills his gut, but he scolds himself for that. Seriously, what was he expecting?

Lilith raises a hand in greeting, giving a quick, awkward looking nod to the ex-scout, who seems to be itching to salute like they would have done once upon a time, but physically unable to, before turning to Hunter. 

“Golden… Hunter,” She says, her lip twisting in distaste either at his appearance or at her slip up. “Would you mind if I borrow you for a bit?”

Lilith looks exactly like she did when Hunter saw her the last time she walked through the corridors at the castle, and at the same not at all; strangely composed and with a certain distance behind her eyes, but looking more like, well, a wild witch than he ever thought he would see from her, with eyebags so big they must rival his own, and yet looking confident in her own skin in a way she never did for all of her regal attitude back then. 

It’s the first time he talks to her since they were both at the coven, and the first time it occurs to him they might be more similar than he originally assumed. 

“Ah, sure,” Not that his efforts were paying off here. 

They both say their goodbyes to the ex-scout, who seems more relieved than sad that they’re leaving, and Lilith guides them to an unoccupied spot, close enough to the entrance of the hall that it’s fairly empty of nearby ears that could catch their conversation, as most people are still too busy dissolving into puddles of tears with their loved ones to think about going back home just yet. 

Hunter leans against the closest wall, unable to stop himself from holding his own arms together against his chest, while Lilith stays standing firm where she is.

She clears her throat. 

“So… how have you been, Hunter?”

He frowns. “I’m… alright? I’m not a puppet”

That seems like a more acceptable answer than telling her that he feels like his life is over, or that once he runs out of things to do around here, he’s going to have to face reality alone for the first time in months, no friends to shield him from the truth that he’s the one who has ruined all the opportunities he’s ever had to save himself, or that maybe there were never any chances for someone like him. 

… Yes, ‘alright’ will do. 

“That’s… great, but not exactly what I meant,” Her shoes shuffle on the floor, obviously as unprepared for this conversation as he is, but not letting that stop her. “I’m afraid I was never the most welcoming to you when we shared a common purpose. I know it’s not easy to leave your old life behind.”

He almost wants to scoff at that. At least she had a choice in the matter, though it doesn’t make him any better of a person when he wished so desperately for things to go back the way they used to be when he finally saw the truth. 

“You could say that.”

She sighs. 

“Listen, Hunter, I don’t know you well enough to tell what’s going on through your head, but I know none of this has been easy on anybody, let alone a child.”

There’s no judgment in the way she says that, but Hunter still curls onto himself. 

“I’m not a child.”

“Yes, you are. And I don’t mean in the way I always used to call you a brat,” The tips of her ears turn pink, though this is the first time Hunter hears of this. It seems like the Coven Heads weren’t above badmouthing him behind his back like Kikimora. “I apologize for that too. The point is… it’s likely we’ll see a lot more of each other from now on, and I just wanted to say that, if the need ever arises, you can count on me, it’s the least I could do.”

The sentiment is nice, but Hunter doesn’t feel very comforted by it. They might see each other, given that they run into the same circles, but he’ll first have to secure himself a place where he can live and figure out a job in order to make some money to support himself, and who knows if that will even allow him to enroll at Hexside? He might not even see his friends that often anymore. Provided, of course, that he doesn’t get arrested in the first place. 

It’s too much to consider, and he can almost feel the pressure in his head getting stronger.

“Uh… thanks. I’m… sorry for taking your position?”

To his surprise, Lilith laughs. 

“I don’t think any of that matters anymore. I wasn’t very good at it anyway,” She sighs, suddenly solemn and with her eyes getting lost in the crowd. “I suppose I wasn’t good at a lot of things.”

This is turning uncomfortable rather quickly. There must be a way to politely ask if that’s all she wanted from him so he can make his retreat into whatever corner of the room is the more inconspicuous until he can leave with his dignity still intact amongst this happy group of witches and demons who had gotten back the most precious thing to them. 

“Speaking of, would you mind telling Amity I’m sorry, the next time you talk to her? I was an awful mentor to her.” 

Following the direction of her gaze, he realizes she wasn’t looking at a random spot on the crowd, but at Amity clinging to her dad’s arms, far enough that Hunter can’t tell exactly what’s going on other than she seems brighter than she was during all those months stranded in the Human Realm.

He doesn’t mean to sound like the brat Lilith sort of accused him of being moments ago, but he can’t help himself. “Didn’t you have plenty of time to tell her yourself after you defected?”

Lilith sputters, the red extending from her ears to the rest of her face. 

“I… suppose I did, but there was never a good opportunity.”

“In months?”

“I had a little too much on my mind to worry about the small details, you understand.”

Hunter raises his eyebrows.

“Not to imply that this is a small matter, of course,” She hurries to clarify. “It just… never seemed like it would be a good moment to bring it up. I wouldn’t blame her if she wants nothing to do with me after the way I dismissed her.”

She seems opposed to explaining, so it might be fortunate –or unfortunate, if she’s intending to keep this under wraps– that he has heard the story she’s referring to before. Amity was equally as embarrassed about her own actions the day of the Covention, but the conclusion of that disaster being one of the turning points in her relationship with Luz seemed to be enough for her to accept the memory as something she was fond of, despite it all. 

“I think she probably would still like to hear it from you. She would know then that you actually care about how she felt,” as far as he’s aware, Amity doesn’t harbor too big of a resentment toward Lilith for that day, but he knows she was hurt by it regardless. “You can at least try, I guess.”

Sometimes, an apology is nice to hear even if you don’t need it.

The kind voice of the only person who could make him feel safe inside the stifling walls of the castle flashes through his mind, a soft apology and a reassurance for the future, but Hunter shakes his head and shakes the memory as fast as it comes. His heart is squeezing itself painfully in his chest and he resists the impulse to rest his hand there to soothe it, lest Lilith asks questions he would rather she doesn’t.

He can’t afford to indulge in stupid fantasies, it never ends well. 

Lilith smiles at him. “Thank you, Hunter. You’re surprisingly insightful for your age.”

It takes him a moment to realize she isn’t being condescending, she’s teasing him. It’s strange but not unwelcome, though he still isn’t sure if they really will have a place in each other’s lives. 

“Ah, but I didn’t come here to make you solve my problems,” She stands up straight, her ears lowering down slightly in embarrassment. “I just wanted to know how you were in case you needed some assistance first, Darius would never let me live it down if I didn’t.”

It’s as if his heart had gone from beating irregularly to stopping its beating altogether. 

He doesn’t mean to, truly, but he can’t keep himself from practically launching himself from the wall to be closer to Lilith, suddenly feeling like nothing is more important in the world than listening to her. “Darius? Where is he? Is he okay?”

Lilith leans back slightly, blinking a lot to adjust her vision to having a teenager right there in front of her. 

“That’s what I came to fetch you for. He’s alright, just… in a bit of a pinch right now.”

She must mean because he’s a puppet, right? Darius couldn’t be in another kind of trouble so suddenly, could he? All the exhaustion he felt earlier is gone, replaced entirely by electricity running through his veins and telling him he needs to get there as fast as he can. But the problem is he doesn’t know where that ‘there’ is. 

“What happened to him?”

Lilith’s face morphs from surprise to understanding, and though he doesn’t know why, he still feels a sting of irritation. They don’t have time for sudden realizations if something’s wrong with Darius. 

“The same thing that happened to all of us, the Collector got to him on the Day of Unity. He’s alright, Hunter,” She says gently, looking at the way he’s practically bouncing on his feet and itching to move but making no commentary about it. “Eberwolf and him were just asking for you practically as soon as the mending spell got cast on them, so I came to find you as soon as possible.”

They were? They’re asking for him? For him?

“Where are they?”

“Near the door to the corridor. We didn’t want to move them too much while they’re still turning back.”

What?

“They’re still under the effects of the spell?” He asks incredulously, “but… but can family or friends help it work faster?”

“Well, yes, we can’t exactly get a hold of Darius’ family right now, and as for Eberwolf… the safest bet would be Darius himself but as you can imagine, that’s not possible right now. Besides-”

“Aren’t you their friend? Did you even try?” His tone is accusatory as he squints at her, half expecting her to snap at him in response to his admittedly rude behavior, but Lilith just sights, making an exasperated gesture with her hand. 

“I didn’t get the chance to. As I was just telling you, they would not calm down unless I promised I would come looking for you, and as I figured you could help them out, it didn’t seem like too much of an issue.”

“I…” He takes a step back. This is what he didn’t even dare hope for, it feels too good to be true, and at the same time it’s the worst thing that could have ever happened, and the sympathy in Lilith’s eyes isn’t making this any easier. “I can’t do that. I’m not… their friend or their family.”

It hurts to admit it outloud, but he can’t let anybody, let alone himself, get hopes when there are none. The only thing that scares him more than never being able to feel such kindness again is going along with this only to find out he’s even more of a disappointment than he suspected; if he’s forced to see Darius’ face fall while he has to politely tell him to go away since he was unable to help him, all while Eber looks as cold as he used to look during their days in the coven, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to go on. 

It would make him as useful around here as he would have been if he had stayed at the bottom of the swampy waters of Gravesfield’s graveyard. 

Lilith’s expression softens even more. 

“I think you’re worth more to them than you think, after all-” She starts, but he can’t let her go on, he can’t let her convince him.

“No! You saw me with that scout earlier, I… I tried to help and it didn’t work. Why would it be different now?”

“Because you matter to them,” She replies simply, and Hunter wants to protest because there’s no way they do, they shouldn’t, except… it would be an insult, to Darius especially, who put such care in making sure he was okay after finding him again outside of the coven despite how much work he must have been putting in the rebellion’s plan as well. He can’t ignore that. “I would be surprised if this is the same as trying to help the first random person you see on their own, although I suppose there have been quite a number of surprising things around the Isles lately.”

“You don’t know that,” His voice cracks slightly and this time he truly can’t stop himself from holding a fist near the center of his chest, the only reassurance he can have now from his best friend. “I can’t disappoint them.”

Surely that’s something Lilith can understand, right? 

For a moment, all Hunter can hear is the loud beating of his heart in his ears as he tries to get his agitated breathing back on track.

“There’s no harm in trying,” She says finally. Hunter would like to disagree. “At the very least I do know one thing with certainty and that is how much they wanted to see you. I think Darius is going to figure out how to do spells in his current state soon if he has to keep wondering how you are.”

Hunter bites his lip; he wants so badly to see them too, but he’s pretty sure one more failure will be enough to break him this time. 

“I don’t know…”

Lilith sighs. “In a way, you would be doing them a favor, if you wish to see it like that. They asked for you, after all, you’d be merely fulfilling their wish, wouldn’t you?”

It’s much too simple of an assessment for the current situation, but strangely, it does make him feel a little better. “I guess.”

“Great. Do you need my help to get there or should I just leave you to it?”

Frankly, the idea of having to figure out how to interact with Lilith while he braces himself to see Darius and Eber again after having left them to die in the spell platform sounds nauseating, but he has enough sense not to say that. 

“I can get there on my own.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” She nods at him, walking away in a direction he doesn’t care to look while he takes a deep breath and prepares himself for the unavoidable. 

If nothing else, this is for Darius and Eber, not for himself. It’s a big lie, he’s aware, but it grants him enough courage to start moving forward in the direction Lilith indicated, too frazzled to actually teleport like he wanted to do earlier. 

The walk there feels simultaneously eternal and as fast as a second, and before he even gets close enough to distinguish their facial features, Hunter can see Darius’ signature hair bubbling in the air while the vibrant color of Eber’s fur pops up beside him.  

He doesn’t even have to think about it, his eagerness stronger than his fears as his pace quickens in tune with his heartbeat, and as soon as he’s close enough to see them leaning against each other, Eber’s head whips up in his direction, and sure enough, Darius’ follows immediately. 

Their eyes lock in on his and he stops on his tracks. He’s grateful that their whole heads are depuppeted already, because if it’s hard enough to not look elsewhere when their eyes look bright and alive, he can’t imagine how awful it would be to look at the emptiness of painted wood along with that awful creak of toy articulations at the movement of their necks. 

They look alive , and the realization makes his eyes sting. 

Maybe this is enough. His legs refuse to move from the spot but seeing them alright after the eerie stillness of their last encounters suddenly feels like the only thing that matters. If they are disgusted by him by his inability to stick to the plan he was given or his ineptitude to help them in their moment of higher need, then at least he has seen them this close one last time before they all go their separate ways.

Turning around and leaving isn’t an option when they requested his presence, but walking forward doesn’t feel quite like the right move, but when he hears the choked call of his name, it’s like his brain has stopped processing his choices for him. 

“Hunter.”

It’s Darius, sounding more pained than Hunter’s had ever heard him, and before he can even think about it, he’s kneeling by his side, checking him over frantically where the sparkly paint still coats the parts of his body that haven’t been given back to him. 

“What happened? Did the spell go wrong? Are you okay?”

“Hunter-”

“I… should I go get Lilith? I don’t know any healers around here,” he looks around, because Hettie must be somewhere nearby if they undid the spell for all of the Coven Heads around the same time, right? Though that’s probably the last thing anybody would need on top of the slow recovery. “I’m sure I can figure something out, I-”

“Hunter, calm down. I’m just… glad you’re alright.”

Darius looks only half sincere, smiling while his eyes look on the verge of tears, but Hunter is too on edge to even try to begin to parse that. 

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m alright,” He swallows thickly, feeling like the biggest liar on the Isles. He could be, for all he knows, if Belos is truly gone this time.

“ Cub… truly feeling…? Alright? ”

Darius looks down at the little demon leaning against his shoulder. 

“Don’t force yourself, Eber, I got this,” He shushes them gently, leaving the other looking reluctant before sighing and closing their eyes with a nod. 

“Are they okay?” Hunter whispers. 

“He’s just smaller than most. It’s taking a heavier toll on their body to heal from this,” Darius replies softly, though the lack of urgency in his face is enough to get Hunter to relax a little bit instead of preparing himself to sprint through the hall looking for the first person who even remotely has a theory on how to help. “Though their perception seems to be as perfect as usual. You aren’t hurt anywhere, little prince?”

“I’m not”, He says, and it’s somehow the truth. He doesn’t understand the workings of Flapjack’s sacrifice, because for all purposes he should be feet under the water right now, but thinking too much about it makes him wish he had been the one to go even now. “I was in the Human Realm during the worst of… this.” 

He makes a gesture toward the hall, the most stark, and perhaps the only remaining evidence of the Collector’s reign over the realm, before settling his hand over his knee, vaguely noting that he ought to really change clothes as soon as he’s able, because his have acquired a weird texture and a temperature equivalent to the snow at the Knee.  

“I know, and I’m glad you were,” Darius’ eyes crinkle at the corners and Hunter can’t help leaning forward, enjoying the little signs of vitality present on him. It makes him feel less sick to his stomach to know he’s not about to lose someone else. “Eda told me you were safe, she visited Raine quite often after we were all puppeted… sometimes she even remembered to say hi to me.”

He sounds far too amused for a man talking about the months he was trapped in a living nightmare, but maybe he doesn’t remember all of it; Hunter himself was only vaguely aware during his short time as a puppet. 

That’s not what calls his attention the most, however. 

“She told you?” That means she knew that Luz was alright and he can’t help but feel glad for his friend, as minor as that thought is in his head against the truth that Darius cared to know about his well being enough for the Owl Lady to take note of it and save him some grief. 

Darius nods. 

“I suppose I was too obvious when I sent you on that mission with her kid. She would know what it’s like to worry about someone you can’t be there to protect.”

“I…” Is he hallucinating? Maybe he’s been making this whole thing up, because the way Darius is looking at him right now holds far too much tenderness for him to know what to do with it, and when Eber purrs softly in agreement, it feels like he has been transported to an entire realm separated from the Demon and the Human Realm altogether. 

He looks down, clenching his hand over fabric until he can feel skin underneath. 

But not his skin. 

“Ah, sorry,” His first instinct is to let go, but Darius’ firm grip in his hand stops him and makes him stop in his track, because what he’s looking at and feeling under his palm isn’t cold wood, but the soft, if tattered, fabric of Darius’ white gloves. He stares at it for a moment, incredulous. “It’s… it’s working.”

“I wasn’t going to bring it up, but I was hoping we could eventually get to this,” Darius squeezes his hand and Hunter finds himself clinging to the touch with all he has. “Besides, you don’t need to apologize for needing some comfort.”

Hunter blinks dumbly at him. He isn’t the one who has been suffering this whole time through a slow detransformation to get back control of his body, has he? Although the comparison leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth. 

“I don’t need comfort,” He mutters, but the words feel wrong to his own ears. 

Maybe he didn’t need it, but he certainly wanted it, and the soft smile Darius directs at him just helps throw him off guard even more than before. 

“Mhm, perhaps it was us who needed the comfort then,” He agrees with a knowing wink. “Would you mind helping Eber out too?”

The demon peeks out from one eye, looking tired, but clearly listening to the conversation actively if the way their ears have been moving the whole time is any indication. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“ Trust you ,” Eber says simply. 

With only a little of hesitation, his hand grabs Eber’s too, and this time he doesn’t miss how the spell starts receding from there and not only from their neck in the slow pace from before. This is real, and Hunter’s heart starts beating faster at what that seems to imply. 

He continues watching in silence for a moment before speaking up again. 

“Can I… can I try something?”

“Of course,” Darius says gently, while Eber merely nods. 

It takes him a moment to gather his courage, but both of them wait patiently for him as he lets go of their hands –warm, safe, unfamiliar, but the most grounding thing he has felt in days– and starts rubbing their arms awkwardly, in the same way Darius did for him the first time they saw each other after Hunter had defected from the coven.

”You’re freezing,” He had said back then, looking in vague disapproval at Hunter’s mismatched outfit from stolen pieces of Hexside’s Lost and Found section and a curtain from one of the dustier classrooms that he had repurposed into a cloak. “I’ll get you something more adequate.”

It had felt as much as a dream as this does, and Darius and Eber certainly seem to be feeling as soothed by the motion as he remembers feeling. Slowly, but fast enough that he can see it unfolding before his very eyes, the wood starts disappearing and being replaced by warm skin and unruly fur; not only through their arms but beyond as well, to their torsos and the arms Hunter isn’t touching until it starts to reach their legs. 

This should be strange, since going by what Lilith knew, it’s obvious the two of them must be aware too about what this says about their bond, but the amount of awe he’s feeling in this moment is enough to squander any feelings of hesitation.

“Do you mind if we try something too, little prince?” Darius asks suddenly, after stretching his arms and fingers lazily and rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness. 

“What is it?” 

Darius opens his arms. A clear invitation that makes Hunter’s tongue feel suddenly useless as he pauses. 

Oh. 

He scooches closer and nods, and as soon as he does, Darius’ reassuring warmth encompasses him in the first hug from him he’s ever had. His hands are quick to cling to the man’s back, and Eber doesn’t waste time them to hold him too, as much as he can while being clearly exhausted and being unable to surround Hunter’s whole torso with his arms, let alone his and Darius’ at the same time. 

It makes Hunter giggle, the sound coming muffled against Darius’ chest until air starts to become harder and harder to take in and the heaviness in his own eyes lets him know he’s crying. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“What for, my little rebel?”

That only makes him start sobbing earnestly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave you behind, but… you don’t care about that, do you? I thought you would hate me. I thought I wouldn’t ever see you again, I thought you were dead ,” He doesn’t care how badly his voice cracks in the word. “And the last thing I would have done would have been to run away from you. I couldn’t even do anything…”

“Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay, you did nothing wrong,” Darius rubs his back gently, and Hunter can feel Eber nuzzling him softly. 

“ Just wanted you safe .”

Hunter heaves out a laugh. 

“That’s the problem! I couldn’t do anything for you. This,” He pushes away carefully, regretting the distance almost as soon as he gets it, with them hardly putting up a fight, but he needs to make his point before his voice gets too wobbly to even speak, “this isn’t enough to repay you for everything you have done for me.”

“Hunter, we’re not looking for repayment. We did all of that because we care about you.”

“ This proves it! ” Eber chirps, and Hunter deflates. They’re right, aren’t they?

“I just… I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” Darius insists, raising up his hands slowly to show his intentions before settling them softly on each of his cheeks and caressing his face gently, taking the tears away with each rub of his thumbs. “As long as you’re not hurt, that’s all we need to hear.”

Hunter sniffles. “You don’t have to do that, you know? The mending spell worked faster on me than on you.”

Darius’ hands still. “You got turned into a puppet?”

“ When? ”

They look alarmed.

“Uh… well, when we got here. A day or two later,” How much time has passed since they first arrived, actually? It all feels like such a haze now. “Well, it doesn’t matter, I’m alright now.”

The older witch looks like he’s debating if he wants to say something to that or not, exchanging a quick glance with Eber before sighing and resuming his attentions to Hunter’s face.

“I can see that,” He concedes. “But this time I thought you could really use the comfort, don’t you think?” 

He feels Eber grabbing at his arm, and he has to admit that it does feel nice, to have someone fussing over him like this. This whole encounter has gone the opposite way than he thought it would, but not in a bad way. 

They stay like this for an amount of time Hunter doesn’t care to keep track of, not when he can finally close his eyes and lets the exhaustion of the past days settle over him, not when he feels himself going a little weightless but the comforting presences by his side won’t let him fall, not when he’s still figuring out how to unbottle something from his chest other than the sorrow and the relief, not when he almost thinks that he could feel happy. 

It’s not until the hall has quieted down significantly, with people starting to leave to their houses or whatever shelter they can find before the night, that Hunter reluctantly pulls away from the other two again. 

When he looks down, he sees the spell has worn out completely from the rest of their bodies, and he feels a wave of shame washing over him. 

“You’re alright now. I suppose you’ll want to go home,” His voice is weak from all the crying, and it’s hard to use the energy he has left to hide the reluctance in his tone, but he can’t keep them here forever, even if he wishes he could. 

With everything that’s happened, he hasn’t had time to come up with a plan of where to stay, but he can’t keep burdening them with his problems when they have already been kind enough to him to even care about him. 

Darius chuckles softly. 

“I suppose we can’t stay here forever.”

Hunter tries his best to hide the wince on his face as Darius gets up, extending one hand to help him up and letting Eber grab the other to balance themself up until they’re on his shoulder, clinging to his neck as if this were a day like any other. 

Together, they start walking toward the door, and Hunter supposes he can at least see them out. Not that he lives here or anything for him to do that, but he doesn’t want to waste any extra second he can spend by their side. 

“Are you excited to see your room, little prince?”

Hunter hums, until the words fully process in his brain and he stops in his tracks, almost tripping with the suddenness of the statement. 

“My what?”

Darius stops too, his face falling from the content state it had been so far into something far more hesitant, the same look he was sporting when he was revealing to him the truth of his work as a double agent. 

“Your room. At my house,” He clarifies. “Unless… you would prefer to stay somewhere else?”

Hunter can hardly recall a time in which the older witch has looked this sheepish, and it takes him a moment to take that in before the question sinks in and suddenly he’s jumping.

“Yes! I mean, no! I don’t want to stay anywhere else! Are you… are you being serious?” 

The man puts his hand on his head and ruffles his hair, pulling a small, lighthearted ’hey!’ from him as a protest. 

“Of course I am. If you want that too, but don’t feel forced to accept on my behalf.”

“Forced? If anything, it would be me making you feel forced to do this,” it pains him to bring up the possibility, but if that’s truly what’s going on, he would rather know now. 

“You making me… Hunter, don’t be ridiculous, you couldn’t force me to do anything if you tried,” Darius scoffs, though the look on his face isn’t unkind. 

“ Saved your things . Ages ago ,” Eber adds, sounding amused, and while looking at him, it’s far easier to notice Darius’ ears lowering down in embarrassment. 

“Just a couple of things,” Darius refutes, before sighing. “It would have looked too suspicious if all of your things disappeared when the scouts registered it after you left.”

“You saved my things?”

“ That’s what I said! ”

“Hush, you. Do you want to take a look for yourself?”

Hunter nods earnestly. Darius’ embarrassment makes it surprisingly easy to trust that he means what he’s saying. 

Or perhaps is the hand that has stayed on his head as a reassuring weight. Or the look of pure, authentic care directed at him. Maybe it’s simply the reminder that the mending spell worked faster when Hunter helped. And maybe he’s tired of second guessing, but he would like nothing more in the world than to go with them. 

It helps that Darius and Eber look so pleased about it. 

Darius drops his hand from Hunter’s hair and extends it to him. He doesn’t hesitate to take it. 

“Then we should get going. I’m getting sick of this castle.”

As they walk through the hall, through the families and friends huddled together, crying in each other’s arms or enthusiastically talking to each other for the first time in months, Hunter is distantly aware that he’s smiling more than he has in days, but it doesn’t bother him when he can see the same smile reflected from Darius’ face, and when he can hear the faint sound of purring coming from Eber, who has taken to leaning slightly away from Darius and toward Hunter. 

Gus and his dad are nowhere in sight, probably already on their way back home, while Willow seems to be fairly happy herself sitting on the ground cuddling with her dads and rambling about something or the other, and Hunter even catches a glimpse of Lilith standing awkwardly in front of Amity and her father, no doubt attempting her best to

He puts a hand on his chest, unable to tell if the warmth coming from there is from the gift his best friend granted him or from his own emotions. He has a feeling it might be both. 

After all, things are far from alright, but it’s starting to feel a lot like one day they could be.