Chapter Text
Ashe Winters’ life isn't a free one. They're beholden to a cursed tome, a traumatic childhood, and an inescapable isolation in order to keep others safe.
Well, their dad says it's for Ashe’s sake. That's a stupid lie.
Then the Prime Defenders crashed through their door (literally- Dakota has no manners) and Ashe was given the chance to balance out the blood on their hands. To live a real life. To help people.
God, how could they have said no? It was a curse disguised as a blessing.
But Ashe is selfish, and they can't watch their friends die, even knowing the damage that others will suffer for it. Ashe is lonely and these are the only people who have ever given them a chance.
They smile and make a deal and accept that they're going to be killed when this is all over, because the Trickster is too dangerous to let live. It's a mercy that the demon lets them close their eyes, drift away from their body, because Ashe doesn't want their last memories to be of the carnage left in their wake.
It's quiet, for a moment. Seconds, or days, Ashe can't tell. But as they sleep, they pretend they can still dream, and make a wish of all wishes-
Take me away from here, they call, somewhere that I can't destroy…
Ashe Winters wakes up with their book in their arms, neck sore from how they're sleeping, nestled between the roots of a great tree. Everything is a little bit soft and blurry.
They clamber to their feet and wonder if they’ve ever seen this much green in their life. They haven’t. It’s beautiful.
When the dust settles and the Trickster is dead, Ashe Winters doesn't return. They sleep (and sleep, and their friends call it sleep, because they can't bear the thought of anything else) and don't decay, which is strange and worrying but a blessing all the same.
When the dust settles and Ashe should have come home, Gasoline sits by their bedside and licks their fingers. His person is so close, but they smell distant.
Gasoline can't understand things like comas and magic. But he's a smart dog, and a good boy, and he has a very important job to do. His second person made that clear, years ago: protect Ashe. Make them happy. Stay at their side.
So, if Ashe is sleeping, and won't wake up, the Gasoline will have to follow suit. He climbs onto the foot of the bed, curls up, and dreams of a beautiful dream, full of sunlight and play and Ashe, Ashe, Ashe.
Realms away, a stray dog picks up a stale scent underneath a towering tree.
And back "home", where his person isn't, the two of them sleep, and sleep, and don't decay.