Wesley

Wesley jerked awake with a gasp, emerging from a haze of troubled dreams. He felt hungover even though he hadn't drunk very much at all last night. His first instinct was to reach for his gun—when had it become his gun, anyway—but quickly found that he was already holding it in a tight-fisted grip. His fingers were sticky-wet with something black and oily that burned his skin.

Should probably find something to clean myself off with, he thought as he sat up with a low groan, still in that unquestioning halfway-state between sleep and waking. In the process of sitting, something fluttered from his chest and landed on the blanket that covered him to the waist. He frowned at the colorful papers for a few seconds in the half-murk of the tent before he realized it was, in fact, money he was staring at.

"You're awake," Serene observed somewhere to his right. The gorgeous woman was already dressed—already?—and knelt on the tarp floor while she worked at brushing out her long black hair over one shoulder. She sounded neither pleased nor displeased by the notion of his presence. Her attention was only on him for a brief moment before it slid away to fix on nothing in particular; just an empty spot on the tent wall.

"We had sex, didn't we?" Wesley asked, amazed that the words coming out of his mouth felt like the truth.

"We sure did," Serene replied in that same, perfectly neutral tone. Part of him had expected her to deny it, that a woman like her could never possibly stoop so low as to be with someone like him.

He picked up the money and slowly turned the paper bills over in his hand. "What's this?"

Serene didn't look. "Your payment."

"You were serious about that? I-I couldn't possibly accept." He let his hand fall limp in his lap. "I mean, I was happy to do it, so…"

"Keep it," Serene insisted. This time, a small twinge of annoyance broke through her cool facade. With a shrug, she added: "As a reminder, if nothing else."

"A reminder?"

"Yeah. Of what this was—and more importantly, what it wasn't. People like you tend to have some trouble keeping the transactional and the personal separate."

"People like me being…?"

Serene gave a shallow sigh. "Virgins." He could hear the eye-roll in her voice.

"Actually, as of last night, I'm not a virgin anymore."

"Touché. Congrats on your graduation. And your debut as a whore."

Wesley flinched at that. "I'm not…!"

"Relaaax, cupcake," Serene said with a snort, working a stubborn tangle out of her hair. "I was just joking."

"Oh. Okay. Pretty funny, I guess." It only stung his pride a little.

"Let me make something clear, though," Serene continued, "just so we're completely on the same page. You and me? We're nothing. We work for the same boss, and that's it. Now, this thing last night? It meant nothing to me. I had an itch, and you were there to do the scratching. It doesn't make us lovers. It doesn't make us fuckbuddies. It doesn't make us friends."

Wesley nodded slowly. He couldn't pretend he wasn't a little disappointed. Serene was almost frighteningly beautiful, and she'd stood between him and certain death by One-Eye's hand. Part of him—a small part, but still—had held out some hope that she might cultivate an iota of fondness for him. Making love is supposed to be… well, it's in the name, isn't it? It's supposed to bring people closer together. Wesley couldn't remember much of what had transpired at the end of the night, but clearly he must have fumbled things rather badly, because she was acting even colder with him now than she had before.

When he made no reply to her little harangue, she threw him a sharp, sidelong glance and set her comb aside. "Are you clear on where we stand now?"

"Clear," Wesley croaked, nodding slightly.

"Good." With that, she stood smoothly and brushed some imaginary dirt off the knees of her trousers. "Well, I'll get out of your hair so you can get dressed and everything. I put out some fresh clothes for you, and there's water over there if you want a bit of a wash. I already used it, but it should be clean enough still."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Oh. Thanks—that's really nice of you."

"Mmhmm. Also, One-Eye is looking for us. He should be up at the main house. You head there as soon as you're able and I'll join you in a minute."

She left. Following her advice, Wesley found the water pail she'd talked about and cleaned up a little, starting by rubbing all that nasty black stuff off of Justice, then continuing with himself, giving his hands and face and armpits and, finally, his crotch a quick splash. The clothes Serene had left were a little baggy on him, but were at least wearable.

He had no idea what had happened to his old clothes, but they definitely weren't around. He also had the strangest feeling that this tent was not the one he had fallen asleep in, though he couldn't put his finger on why he would think that.

Putting on his boots and sticking Justice through his belt, he finished by giving the hundred glories a long final look before stuffing them in his pocket. He ducked outside the tent into the pale morning. Almost immediately he became aware of a strange smell—like spoiled meat and burning plastic—that hung heavy in the air, and looking around he saw that the farm itself was in terrible disarray. Even if the party last night had been rowdier than he remembered, that wasn't enough to explain the destroyed tents and scattered supplies and bloodstained grass.

The source of the smell became immediately apparent. The downslope bonfire had been bolstered with fresh wood and the charred bodies of many black-furred creatures that let off terrible vapors as they burned. Bored militiamen stood around with rags tied over their faces, waiting to throw even more bodies on the fire once there was room.

Wesley felt that he should have been more surprised to see all that carnage, but surprisingly it didn't make him feel much of anything except a vague queasiness caused by the powerful stench. Those were grinners, and he'd fought them.

That can't be right.

But it was. He knew it was.

Almost unconsciously, Wesley pulled Justice and flipped open the cylinder. He dug out a single spent brass casing and turned it over between his fingers. All the chambers were now empty.

I used you, he thought. Last night, I…

They understood each other better now, him and the gun. Somehow, all that mess last night had brought them closer together. When he held it, he could almost feel the old sheriff's hand on his, firming his grip.

He really didn't want to go see One-Eye, but he couldn't think of any good excuses to be tardy, so he stowed his gun and gave it an affectionate pat before beginning a reluctant trudge up toward the farmhouse. He wove a path through hungover celebrants either just picking rousing from drunken sleep, eating breakfast in little huddled groups, or engaged in sluggish cleanup efforts.

Sam was sitting on the farmhouse porch alongside a small group of other familiar faces who were passing a cigarette around. Mongrel was there, and Hacksaw the doctor, and Griff the former guard captain. Lastly there was Gug the troll, who sat cross-legged in the grass in front of them and was blinking tiredly at nothing in particular, then split his jaws in a huge creaking yawn.

"Heyo, Oats!" Sam said with a big wave and an unfashionably upbeat laugh. "Sleep good?"

"So-so," Wesley muttered as he approached, rubbing the back of his neck. "What about you guys?"

Sam grinned mischievously. "Oh, we didn't do much of that, did we fellas?"

"Nope," Mongrel said smugly, leaned back on his elbows with his big belly proudly outthrust. "Was busy fucking a certain demon into submission. Damn bitch thought she could take me lightly and get away with it."

Hacksaw nodded along with the old man, wearing his unnerving vulture's grin. "I hear that. Well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, but let's just say I had some fun myself." He got the cigarette from Mongrel and had two sharp puffs while he pumped his eyebrows in sync.

Mongrel snorted. "Speak for yourself, doc. I might be a gentleman, but I don't kiss—I fuuuck—and I'll crow about it from the damn rooftops, too."

"Gross," Sam countered. "But… also not surprising."

"Even I got laid last night," Griff said, the ugly checkerboard of scars on his face tightening as he dragged pensively on the cigarette. Seeming to catch himself, he breathed twin smoke plumes through his nostrils and made airy circular motions with the cigarette while he tried to find his words. "Not, uh, that that's unusual. I have sex. You know, sometimes. I'm just picky about who I sleep with, that's all."

"Right," Hacksaw and Mongrel said at once, the two old men sharing a knowing look. The doctor followed up with: "So who's the lucky lady?"

The former militia captain bristled. "Fuck off."

Hacksaw's snowy white brows shot up. "Wow. Defensive, much?"

"All right, look, she was a little weird, okay? And older than I usually like 'em, and chattier. But man, you shoulda seen the tits on her. The kind you could fall between and never find your way out of."

Mongrel nodded appreciatively. "Nice, nice."

"I gave my first blowjob last night," Sam said, "so that was… an experience. I think I've still got pubes in my mouth." She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue and dug around with two fingers, eventually producing a long, coarse hair that she flicked away with a disgusted half-cough. "Oh yeah, and I never knew how fuckin' bad cum tasted. If I'd have known that I'd have spit it out."

"Well hey, sounds like you took it like a trooper," Mongrel said. "Good job, kid. Proud of you."

She snorted and shook her head. "Yeah, thanks grandpa."

"I danced a lot and now I'm tired," Gug announced to no one in particular as he squinted up at the sun.

"Gotcha, big guy." Ignoring the troll's comment, Sam turned her attention back to Wesley and motioned to him with a dangling foot. "What about you, Oats? You get any good pussy last night? Or, uh, good dick, if that's more your thing."

"No," Wesley replied quickly. "Afraid not. No… No sex for me, no." He figured Serene probably wouldn't want it known they'd slept together.

"Damn. Sucks for you." Sam shrugged and clicked her tongue. "Well, you'll get there eventually. There's someone for everyone."

He wasn't so sure about that, but decided not to argue.

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