Fight Back [Watch/Shadowloved]

[Alyson Bludwyne]

She'd fixed him up somewhat. Enough that his mind wasn't just complete goo. He could think again, but his magic had been frazzled somewhat. Spells not always acting the way they should. And he hadn't been able to use his Shadow magic at all. His Lady hadn't been thrilled at that news but she'd been happy that they'd broken her sister. Michael supposed she wouldn't have healed him at all if they'd failed. Alyson's tolerance for failure had never been much, but with so little progress to show since she'd returned, her temper flared more often than not. 

And if he'd thought his first punishment, after giving Rowena a little too much information, had been bad, he hadn't realised how much pain his Lady could inflict. When she'd heard Rowena had fled, had disappeared from even their eternal watch, her fury had been felt in all her followers, few though they were. And Warghollow had made it abundantly clear how much he put the blame squarely onto Michael. Being stuck with the other Wizard in the small house they rented in Fort William was not Michael's idea of fun but with them both being hunted by Aurors it was the only thing to do. Rosie was now the only one out of suspicion and had been eager to get back into her Lady's good books. His sister had been busy, too busy to tend to her injured brother. Was he bitter? Absolutely. It had all gone wrong and now he was stuck with a cannibal for company and no True magic to entertain himself with. 

Michael moved around the room aimlessly. He was so bored. His whole life had been filled with plots and plans, minds to mold and to twist into submission, the most important of packages entrusted to his care. He'd been so proud of his hard work with Rowena Convington, everything had gone so well for so long and then one slip up and she'd fallen for that Kameren. Since then he'd been playing catch up, being thwarted at every turn, his powers slowly losing strength in the face of the love blossoming between them. That had bothered him most of all. All of that time watching her, caring for her. She was supposed to be his. They would have been perfect together. They would have looked so good together, the picture perfect couple, especially once Alyson had harnessed that power and rendered Rowena more docile. His powers would have taken care of any other troublesome behaviours. But Kameren had ruined it all, and then she had taken his most treasured powers from him. He wanted to make them both pay but Alyson had been firm. He was to remain here, out of sight until she had fixed things.

So he was under house arrest and the only good thing about it was that it had given him some time to practice his magic again. He'd always been more a mental fighter than a physical one but with that lost to him for now, he'd thought it prudent to sharpen his skills and ensure that he could be useful when the time came again. He would show her, he'd show them all. Michael Warcombe was not a liability. 

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Michael Warcombe was a complete liability. And Winston wasn't exactly known to be discreet but at least he didn't screw up their most valuable asset. Their whole mission needed Rowena Covington and the man hadn't even broken her properly. She should have been practically comatose, a shell of power, just waiting to be used. Instead she'd taken off and their only knowledge so far was that she'd been racing around the country looking for the Shield. So not only was she not completely broken, but she was actively trying to fight back. It was a complete shambles and Winston was not happy that he'd been stuck here with the worthless wizard instead of demonstrating the true might of his powers. He didn't need to worry about the Aurors, he'd escaped them several times already. Even in the few close calls, his powers were just too much for their meager abilities.

And yet, here he was, babysitting. Winston wasn't under complete house arrest like the other man, he was actually more of a guard, there to ensure Michael didn't screw up again. Today he'd left the stuffy little home to gather more supplies and to sate his own, more particular, hunger. There was a single mother and her child, living on the edges of a small village not far from Fort William. He'd been watching them for a while and decided today was the day. Michael was busy practicing his magic on the local vermin, Winston was going to enjoy bigger prey. 

---

The screams had been delicious, but not as much as the sweet flesh, flavoured with fear. Belly full, he'd looked around the house, not more than a shack really, and contemplated where to leave his message. It had become a fun game, taunting the Ministry Officials, rubbing their failures into their faces, setting up the remains in a ghastly way. He'd just collected the blood to begin writing his message to Alex Kameren when the Shadows pulsed around him. Damn. They'd gotten quicker then. He waited until the door opened and he saw the Auror's face before grinning, making sure the other Wizard saw the blood stained teeth, before letting the Shadows envelop him and returning to the house in Fort William. 

Except this time they were waiting for him. Winston cursed as Darkness rose in a wave around him, absorbing any spells that fired his way on his arrival. He should just leave but Michael hadn't been able to apparate since that Witch had hit him with her power. He'd been tasked with babysitting, so he supposed it was time to do his job. 

"Where are you you worthless fuck?!" Winston shouted as he looked for Michael. If he could just grab him then he could take them both away from here. 

[Alecsander]

The aurors gathered around the tiny house, filing out and surrounding it silently. They had just settled into place when darkness gathered and pulsed, and Warghollow arrived. It had been a gamble, sending his younger aurors to flush him out, but he would run. He always did, when he could. Alex was unable to stop the grin from encompassing his face at the look on Winston's face. It was not a nice grin. He didn't intend to give him that chance this time.

"Look for Warcombe!" he shouted, casting a patronus and sending it after the cannibal. He and a small phalanx of Aurors began advancing on Warghollow. As many of his original team as he could find, there could be no allowances for mistakes, not with his powers.

His world narrowed to that narrow point, focus sharpening as he took in every scrap of information available to him and used it.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Michael had been amusing himself watching the rat squirm and squeal under the might of his magic when he'd heard the first shout. 

"Look for Warcombe!"

Shit. They'd been found. Michael crept to the window and peered out, cursing again as he saw the Aurors crowding in the small garden at the front of the house. There was a wave of Shadow as Winston repelled the first attack, but amongst the Dark there was the Light of a Patronus. Then a bang as Warghollow threw open the front door and charged into the house. 

"Where are you you worthless fuck?!"

Worthless fuck? Was he the one who'd led Aurors right back to their safe house? Idiotic prick. Michael reached out with his magic and swore as he felt the Anti-apparition wards the Aurors had put into place. They were useless anyway, he'd splinched himself the only time he'd tried to apparate, losing an ear, arm and leg. And he'd only moved several meters. No, whatever Miss Covington had done, it had messed thoroughly with that escape mechanism. So he'd have to rely to Warghollow. 

Michael turned and fled the attic room where he'd been staying and launched himself downstairs. All he had to do was get to the other wizard and they could leave. With their tail between their legs. How had this even happened?! They were Pure. Filled with the True Power. And they were running. Always hiding and running. The wizard growled angrily as he approached the ground floor, but the foyer was already filled with Aurors and Michael retreated back upstairs as several spells were launched his way. Stupid. They'd only said Winston's name. They might have not even known he was here... too late now. They'd seen him. And there was Winston, his Shadows reaching out, dancing between Patronus and trying to reach the Aurors behind their protection. 

Michael tried quickly to reach for his own powers, if only he could get into their minds and twist their thoughts he could have them attacking each other, but it felt distant, apart from him and he knew it was useless. But he still had his own magic and his wand flashed quickly in their air as he sent several Crucio's towards the Aurors. Their patronus might protect them against Winston's magic but it would not against his. And yet, there were so many... he cast a few more spells before retreating back to cover. He would not reach Winston while so many Aurors stood in their path. 

[Max Kameren]

As the aurors coordinated and attacked, one figure stood back. He stood in the doorway, his cat patronus perched atop his shoulders as he took in his surroundings. The chaos of battle wasn’t a place where his skills thrived, but he could be helpful in other ways. Because through the pain and hardship of the last month, his torture and the loss of the love of his life, Max had learned some things. Dueling wasn’t nearly as affective against the Shadowloved as the aurors would hope, which would explain their failure. But Max’s skills worked around the shadows, and Rowena’s power had kept the demons at bay as well.

With his emerald eyes closed Max breathed deeply, suppressing himself and absorbing the crazed auras of the coming conflict. He felt Alex, Briar, Theo, and the other aurors with auras he recognized. When he narrowed past the normal-feeling souls he found what he was looking for: something stunted and broken. A soul twisted and shredded and scarred. Winston Warghollow.

Then another, stunted in a similar way, but more even and with more depth: for the first time, Max was absorbing what must be Michael Warcombe’s soul. Max cocked his head with the observation, a slow smirk quirking the ends of his lips as his claws sunk in and twisted to bring the man to his knees. Max paralyzed him inside an inescapable panic and pain; he would pay. He would beg, just as he’d made Rowena beg.

You should have really killed me if you wanted to escape.

The house erupted with spells as the aurors caught up with their targets at long last. Max released Michael’s aura when he was surrounded and pushed himself up from the doorframe. He opened his eyes, his black cat patronus chittering in anticipation as he scanned for the other.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

He'd charged in expecting Michael to be sitting in the living room where he so often sat and moped. But of course today was the one day the other Wizard had decided to do something useful. Winston dimly heard crashing footsteps from the attic and growled summoning his powers to transport him up and then out of this mess. But then he was forced to redirect his attentions as a few Patronus surrounded him. His focus narrowed at the fools who thought they would ever get him back in Azkaban. He was Power, uncontrollable force. He was the Hunter, not the Prey. He let his Shadows swarm around him, feeding more of his power into them, even as the Light of the Patronus disapated them one by one. And while his Shadows distracted, his wand worked, shooting out dark Curses towards the pathetic men attempting to capture him. A Hex to skin someone alive. A Curse that boiled your blood. A Spell to turn your bones to stone. 

Winston heard a familiar voice join the fight and grinned. Perhaps Michael wasn't a complete idiot after all. And then he heard the other man shout in agony and rolled his eyes. Nevermind then. Looked like it was up to him to get them out of this mess. 

He advanced towards one Auror, leering at him, his still blood-stained teeth promising a similar fate to that of the woman he'd just devoured. And then he caught sight of him. Alex Kameren. He'd been so caught up in finding his charge that he hadn't truely paid attention to who exactly was on this fools mission to take him back to Prison. But of course he was here. He'd caught him the first time. But Winston would show the man that luck did not strike twice. And once he'd finished here, he'd repay the favour of this inconvenience. It was high time the Kameren's learned that they had strayed from the right path. The Cleansing would begin. 

The Shadows extended now, covering any light source, plunging the room to darkness. And Winston charged. The Hunt was on. 

[Alecsander]

“Keep your shields up!” Alex barked in needless reminder as Warghollow started throwing curses. A nasty looking bolt fizzled against his own shield. He sent a hex in response, his patronus forcing the shadows back. They writhed like living things, but they were making headway. Alex spared a glance for Max, to assess the status of the other aurors. Some were down, but he couldn’t stop, not now. Stop and they would all die, and Warghollow would feast on their bones.

The room went dark.

Not today. He closed his eyes, focusing. Not only to bring forth the memory, but to make it as large as he could. Elle. She was fierce, and strong, but her touch was gentle. He leaned against a doorframe, looking into a ward where she administered potions. She shot him a glance and he felt his heart stop. It was then that he realized just how absolutely lost he was. And that he would do absolutely anything to keep it that way. The room exploded in light.

“Max! Go!”

Eyes slitted, he moved, looking for Winston. He couldn’t be allowed to escape. He remembered the blood and the gore, the horror of the faces of those left behind. A smaller group of aurors than before gathered, Xav, Theo, Christians. Potter. Franks. The rest were throughout the house, or had already fallen. Alex took a deep breath through his nose and instantly regretted it, the smell of copper and burned flesh assaulted him. The room was bathed in silver, but how long could he hold it?

[Max Kameren]

Max’s skull felt ready to spit in two with the action going on around him. The instinct inside him told him to suppress himself, to shut down and lock himself away from the auras bombarding his consciousness, but still he held on. He was necessary in their strategy; Max may not have the skills to fight like an auror, but he was useful in other ways. Through his training he’d learned he wasn’t a solider after all. He was a weapon.

The familiar black hole of Winston Warghollow’s aura assaulted his senses as Max stalked through the house, warily avoiding conflicts that crossed him as he made his way to the center of the fray. He needed to be able to extend his reach as far as he could if their plan would work, a difficult feat in such a high-stress environment. He ducked upstairs and took refuge in a watercloset, evening his breathing and focusing on the battle raging around him, the auras pulsing and popping with conflict like an unruly flame.

Max felt the faint ether pop of Winston’s aura before the house went dark. Max’s patronus flickered as the shadows reached for him, pulling the breath from his lungs as the pain they caused him in the Catacombs felt new again. “No.” He got a grip on himself and shook his head, his patronus flickering with new resolve as he fought back the darkness. Not again.

“Max! Go!”

Then there was light. Max opened his mind to every auror and pushed light through like a surge of electricity. He connected the patronus of every auror in the home, their positive emotions and light feeding on each other to make each shield more powerful and connect into an impenetrable net. It was a network of lanterns, fighting back the dark and containing it. With each auror connected Warghollow couldn’t divide and conquer.

In his efforts Max’s own aura flickered out as he lost grip on his own consciousness. He lived within the connections, using his ability to strengthen his allies. His body felt too far away, lost to him as it sat unprotected in the bathroom upstairs, where the door was slowly opening.

[Alyson Bludwyne]

Well this was a bit of a fuck up wasn't it? Michael thought as he retreated from the fight in an attempt to refocus and apply his own abilities to aid Winston. An Auror appeared before him, wand blazing but Michael's hand was pressed against the other wizard's forehead before the spell could leave his lips. It was instinct to rely on his mental powers. It had been too long since he'd been forced to use lesser magic but there was no time to think about how he'd been unable to do anything downstairs. One on one shouldn't be beyond his abilities, damaged though they were. Using his powers brought a searing headache as the Dark Wizard removed the man's desire to attack him. Michael wasn't delicate in his manipulation and as he walked away the Auror was left standing there blankly, his gaze unfocused, wand clattering to the floor. 

Another attacked him before he had a chance to prepare. He dodged just in time but the spell left a searing wound across his thigh and he couldn't help the yelp of agony. They needed help. They needed Aly. He tried calling for his Mistress but his head felt foggy with all the Light presence in the building and he couldn't get a grip on their connection. Patronus didn't negate his powers as much as it affected Winston but that much Light magic still made his skin crawl. All that goodness... and it felt more powerful, more connected than anything he'd felt before. There was something else at work here... something that posed a significant danger to him and his allies. Something tugged at his memory, a meeting once upon a time, back when he'd been just a boy, desperate to learn more, a novice in the powers so new to him. And then he knew. Of course he would be here. Max Kameren had always found a chance to be a thorn in Michael's side. He was the reason Michael was stuck in this shack in the first place and he was the variable that had ruined the plan. Love. Urgh. The very thought of Rowena and Max together brought a fresh wave of anger. At least that was no longer and with Rosie tracking the other Witch, the mess would soon be fixed. 

Michael was impatient to see the look of fear and despair on Rowena's face when she realised that her fate was inevitable. But first, he needed to make it out of here alive. And for that he needed Winston, who in turn needed to be rid of these pesky Aurors. There would be little need to worry... had the Empath not been here too. So it seemed it was up to Michael to save both of them. Take out the boy and this would all resolve itself. But where was he hiding? Michael walked down the corridor, slowly opening doors. He ignored the snarls and crashes coming from downstairs. Winston would just have to wait.

And then... Jackpot. A small bathroom, dark and full of cracked tiles. But in the middle, the prize Michael had been looking for. Kameren. The grin that spread across Michael's face was dark and full of the promise of revenge. The stupid boy had left himself unprotected. Such a novice. A fool. And now he would pay for all he had done. Winston would be pissed that Michael would take this kill from him... but perhaps Michael could take the boy's eyes as a treat for the other Wizard. 

He could just kill him. That would be the most sensible choice... but... there was that rage. This was the boy who had caused his Mistress to punish him so severely. This was the boy who had stolen a future he had planned for years. This was the boy who had seeded doubt, negated his powers at the critical moment. This was the boy who needed to pay for his crimes. He would see who would be the one to kill him. And anyway, a quick death would be too kind. And Michael Warcombe was not kind.

The curse was cast without another seconds pause. The air around the body retreated, leaving a void. Michael's gaze narrowed to focus only on the man in front of him. How long would it take until the need for oxygen disrupted the Empath's powers? When it did, he would be ready. This ended only one way. 

[Alyson Bludwyne]

He really didn't want to stay here. He only needed a second. Less than that. A second of respite and he could leave and be done with this mess. But he'd been given a task and he'd already failed once. His Mistress's patience only extended so far. He'd seen that when Michael had returned, failure written all over his face. Aly's fury had been magnificent to behold, glorious and deadly. They'd all been reminded that night why she was in charge. And as beautiful as that anger had been, Winston did not want it to be directed his way.

So he stayed and he fought. He imagined that this was how the lion felt. All powerful, the mightiest by far, bu always pestered by little biting flies. It didn't seem to matter how many Aurors he felled, another would take it's place. And then there were those Patronus, draining him of his strength with every second. He would fight but he needed the fight to end soon. He'd already tried calling for his Mistress but she'd ignored him. Busy with one of her projects. That boy probably. He'd taken up an absurd amount of her time lately. Winston would have called her inftuated if he didn't know her better. But either way, she wouldn't help him here. This was his mess to clean up.

Another Auror went down in a squeal of agony as his heart was ripped from his chest by invisble hands. That was dinner sorted then, Winston thought with a wry grin. But the one he wanted most, the man who would taste the most delicious, like a fresh cooked steak, was just meters away. Alex Kameren. Winston focused his attention towards the Head Auror and took a step forward. Even with all these Aurors, they couldn't catch him. He was too powerful. He was Pure. He would feast on their bodies and bathe in their blood. He was unbeatable.

...until he was not. Something changed. The Light shone brighter, so much so that Winston shied back, wincing as his Shadows cried out in agony. What was this?! It was impossible. Suddenly he was unable to attack and for the first time, Winston felt a sliver of fear. It was too much, a net of Light and he was cast back to the night of his capture. They'd done something similar then, but he'd been drunk on blood and flesh, still new to his powers. That tactic shouldn't have worked anymore... but they had something new. Winston pulled back his Shadows to defend, a swirling mass of black that no longer attacked but kept him safe while he reassessed. This changed everything.

[Alecsander]

“Max! Go!”

Then there was light. Max opened his mind to every auror and pushed light through like a surge of electricity. He connected the patronus of every auror in the home, their positive emotions and light feeding on each other to make each shield more powerful and connect into an impenetrable net. It was a network of lanterns, fighting back the dark and containing it. With each auror connected Warghollow couldn’t divide and conquer.

In his efforts Max’s own aura flickered out as he lost grip on his own consciousness. He lived within the connections, using his ability to strengthen his allies. His body felt too far away, lost to him as it sat unprotected in the bathroom upstairs, where the door was slowly opening.

Light exploded from Alex, hands spreading as he cast a patronus. Not his own familiar shepherd, but a ever-expanding shield of light. The light dimmed a little, but strengthened as auror after auror joined in. “Use your patronus!” He called, lancing out with his at Warghollow as he struck out at a nearby auror. And suddenly, Max was there. He was everywhere. And then there was Theo, and Xav, Briar, Potter… so many others. So many, yet so few. He banished the thought as quickly as it came, suppressing it. There was no time for doubt. He couldn’t afford any sown, not here.

He pressed forward, eyes boring into the sheltering shadow Warghollow had somehow created. He wouldn’t get away. He wouldn—He stopped cold. The web was still there, but something was wrong. Max. Where was Max? “THEO! XAV!” He bellowed at his two lieutenants as he bolted for the stairs. The two aurors pulled together, covering the hole left by the head auror. MAX! He thought as loudly as he could, trying to reach his nephew. Hopefully he hadn’t disappeared too deeply into the minds of the others.

The web was starting to unravel, the center starting to fade, and as webs are wont to, the connections were failing. There was a man at the top of the stairs, about halfway down the hall. He didn’t stop to think, only casting the first spell that came to mind with both hands. Warcrombe. Alex recognized him from Max’s memories, given to him after the attack on Rowena. The Sectumsempra spells raced down the corridor.

[Max Kameren]

Within the connections Max disappeared. There was no Max Kameren. His thoughts were muted beneath the roar of power, his emotions quelled and his consciousness elsewhere. Varvara was right; within these raw connections Max felt limitless. Maybe they were gods, their mental powers stretching only as far as their imaginations.

The one thing he couldn’t do was come back down. Grounding himself felt like reaching for a balloon rising in the sky. he was just out of reach and only getting further. Max grasped for his own mind but the tethers fell through his fingers with each surge of the aurors’ attack. But he was secluded, so far he’d gone unnoticed. If he was lucky he could return when the din below him subsided, like one of his attacks.

In the throes of battle Max didn’t feel the newly familiar aura on the second floor. His ears were deaf to the sound of the door opening. Green eyes bored blankly forward into nothingness as the figure in front of him plotted his demise. Michaels adversary wasn’t present in the body hunched before him, he was only a shell.

The spell still served its function, though, and beneath Michaels influence the rhythmic rise and fall of Max’s chest ceased. His lungs gulped for air but couldn’t find it, his body slowly starting to heave for air as if he were drowning. With each slowing heartbeat his aura faded, and with it the spell. With each missed breath their defense weakened.

Eventually Max’s body succumbed and his mind with it; the net of auras broke as the healer above lost consciousness, slumping to the side in the small bathroom as spells began to fly.