He looks at Kavinsky, and he gets up. There are spells that can do damage, spells that he knows, but he doesn't know this thing's name, if it has a name at all. But still.
There are still binding spells for things that are magic, and this thing-
-he moves his hands one more time. "Nomen adiuro te per infernum, per sponte pergebam," he shouts, and the thing tries to fling itself at him, but it can't, it's bound down to the ground, Nick's magic keeping it in place. "There's a ritual blade in the nightstand, it's sharp, grab it and kill it," he says, because as long as he's binding it, he can't move.
Kavinsky goes for the knife without asking questions and launches himself over the bed. It isn't the first one he's killed; it isn't even the first one here in the city. But getting up close is always--
The night horror fights the spell and Kavinsky manages to stab it once before it breaks from the binding and launches toward Nick. Kavinsky slams into it and it makes a shrieking noise that fills the room as it turns its rage on him. He stabs over and over into the solid darkness that makes up its body. It stops making noise, eventually, and slumps, slithers, collapses into a pile at Kavinsky's feet.
He stands there, panting quietly and staring down at it. There's something black and wet on the knife and on his hands and his shirt.
He feels the spell fight it - he doesn't know the thing's name, so he can't banish it, and the binding isn't perfect - but he manages to hold it even as it breaks. Nick moves his hand and he's about to speak again (although honestly, the desire is to run) but then Kavinsky moves and the thing is dead.
"Dunno," he answers, voice hollow as he stares down at the thing. "They come when I have nightmares."
Kavinsky's never been sure if they are nightmares of if they're just attracted to them somehow. He takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly. It's easier to deal with them when they aren't his own. Killing Ronan's is easy.
"I'm fine," he says, and comes closer. "Are you?" he asks, because Kavinsky doesn't look okay. He kneels next to the dead thing, and he touches it carefully.
Kavinsky shrugs a little. He's probably not okay, but he's-- fine. "Yeah," he says after a beat. "I'm fine."
He's still staring down at the think while Nick touches it. Kavinsky knows what it will feel like: cool, soft and strange and pliant now that it's not moving.
"Watch your hands," he warns. "There's claws and teeth and sharp shit in there somewhere. Sometimes there's a beak or two."
"Or two," he says, but it isn't judging. He moves his hands, and pushes the thing over, and runs his hands over it. He looks at Kavinsky, then, and stands up. "You dreamed this," he repeats, carefully. He stands up and lifts his head up. "Listen," he says, quietly. "Come here," he says, reaching for him, careful.
"I didn't dream it," he insists. "They just show up."
He doesn't know if that's true, though. It looks like something he'd dream if left to his own devices. Something dark and hungry and twisted. His hand tightens on the knife for a second before he lets his fingers go loose. He drops it before he moves toward Nick.
"I'm fine," he repeats, though he has no idea if it's more convincing than it was a minute ago.
But Nick takes him in a careful embrace. He runs his hand through his hair. He takes a breath. "So you channel them," he says. "They come through you."
He's never thought that hard about the night terrors. They show up, he deals with them. Just like he deals with Ronan's. They're different, though. His aren't the same as his dream boy's but he keeps that to himself. Nick doesn't need to know that there's anyone else out there like him. It's one promise he's willing to make and keep.
Kavinsky sighs and leans into Nick for a second. He's never been held after something like this before and it's kind of nice.
"I'll handle it," he says, because he will. He doesn't have to do it now. He can take his time. He holds onto Kavinsky instead, and thinks, if Kavinsky channeled it, then he channeled it from somewhere else.
Which means that there is a somewhere else, and he doesn't think it's from another place in the waking world.
But all of that is a thought to deal with later. Maybe with Ambrose. "Are you okay?"
"What are you gonna do with it?" Hey, it's his dead thing, he thinks he deserves to know. But then Nick is asking if he's alright again and Kavinsky resists the urge to pull away.
"I'm fine," he insists. "This isn't even the first time it's happened here. Shit happens. It's a consequence of the whole-- thing." He gestures vaguely, trying to remember what, exactly, he's said to Nick. My dreams are real.
He takes a moment and looks at Kavinsky. "Honestly? I was thinking of taking it apart for study," he says, because he won't do it in secret. "If you're okay with that."
He presses a kiss to Kavinsky's temple. "Otherwise, I'll burn it somewhere."
"I threw one in a dumpster," he admits. He turns his head to catch Nick in a real kiss and there's something biting and needy about it. When he breaks away, he looks back down at the mass of darkness and sharpness and hate.
He kisses him back, and presses him to the bed, but it's not in a sexual, desperate way. Instead he just needs some leverage, to pin him down a little, to assert some control. This is the kind of shit that leaves a person unmoored. A bad summoning can fuck someone up; Nick knows from experience. "You can be here if you want. There's all kinds of things you can do with...parts."
Some part of him wants to rebel, to fight against the way Nick is holding him down. He’s fucking fine, he’s killed dozens of these things. This is nothing. In the same breath, it feels so good to be held down, to be held together, after murdering something that has somehow come from him. His hands flex uselessly and he turns his head away, jaw tight as he stares at the thing on the floor. He just wants to get rid of it and all it stands for. Taking it apart makes him think of being flayed open and vulnerable.
"Potions, mostly," he admits. "All kinds of things. Eye of newts can make you clear eyed. Tongue of dog makes you tell only flattering lies." He shrugs a little. "I don't know what this could be."
"I'll clean it up," he looks at Kavinsky for a long time, and then rocks over so he can hold him, if that's what K wants. "And relax. You're tense."
“I wanna watch,” he says. “I wanna see everything. Whatever you make. Whatever you do to it. I wanna be there. It’s—mine.”
He doesn’t know why but it feels like a visceral need. It’s his, it came out of him even if he didn’t make it. Kavinsky sighs and closes his eyes as he leans into Nick. He tries to relax. He might have something in his pockets to help him out, he can’t remember. He looks at Nick.
"I believed you, you know," he says. "I know that there are enough things between heaven and hell," he says, quiet for a long moment. "You can stay and watch. I promise."
But then there's stillness; his hands move just a little, right in front of him. "Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu," he whispers, and he feels that warm rush of the protection spell move through him.
“Something about protection and... snakes? What was that?”
He wonders if the spell works the same if Nick translates. Kavinsky remembers sitting through Latin classes but he never thought he’d use it. Maybe he needs to brush up if Nick’s gonna be whipping it out.
“I know you believed me. But did you think I meant this?”
"A protection spell. For you," he says, gently. It's something that you do in the witch world when you care for someone else, and there's danger in their lives. Nick knows that Kavinsky could use a little.
He looks back at the thing. "I can't say I know what I thought. I've never met anyone else with that kind of power. We can go into each other's dreams, there are spells to take things and hide them in dreams, too."
Something— shifts in him and Kavinsky just kind of looks at Nick, stares at him, confused and uncertain and touched all at once. No one’s ever gone through that kind of trouble for him before. Not to try to protect him. He wonders if the spell can protect him from his own bad dreams.
Kavinsky pulls Nick close so he can kiss him again. He needs to kiss him. He needs to do something to bury this feeling he doesn’t know what to do with.
Kavinsky makes a quiet noise and between the kisses he manages to say: "It's not a spell."
That's all he gets out for a second because he's grabbing Nick's shirt, apparently refusing to let him go now that they're tangled together. But before long, he lolls his head to look at the thing on the floor.
"No one's ever tried to protect me before," he says out loud.
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There are still binding spells for things that are magic, and this thing-
-he moves his hands one more time. "Nomen adiuro te per infernum, per sponte pergebam," he shouts, and the thing tries to fling itself at him, but it can't, it's bound down to the ground, Nick's magic keeping it in place. "There's a ritual blade in the nightstand, it's sharp, grab it and kill it," he says, because as long as he's binding it, he can't move.
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The night horror fights the spell and Kavinsky manages to stab it once before it breaks from the binding and launches toward Nick. Kavinsky slams into it and it makes a shrieking noise that fills the room as it turns its rage on him. He stabs over and over into the solid darkness that makes up its body. It stops making noise, eventually, and slumps, slithers, collapses into a pile at Kavinsky's feet.
He stands there, panting quietly and staring down at it. There's something black and wet on the knife and on his hands and his shirt.
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He stares at it, and comes closer, curious.
"What the heaven is that thing?"
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Kavinsky's never been sure if they are nightmares of if they're just attracted to them somehow. He takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly. It's easier to deal with them when they aren't his own. Killing Ronan's is easy.
He looks over at Nick.
"You okay?"
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It's definitely dead.
"They come out of your nightmares."
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He's still staring down at the think while Nick touches it. Kavinsky knows what it will feel like: cool, soft and strange and pliant now that it's not moving.
"Watch your hands," he warns. "There's claws and teeth and sharp shit in there somewhere. Sometimes there's a beak or two."
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He doesn't know if that's true, though. It looks like something he'd dream if left to his own devices. Something dark and hungry and twisted. His hand tightens on the knife for a second before he lets his fingers go loose. He drops it before he moves toward Nick.
"I'm fine," he repeats, though he has no idea if it's more convincing than it was a minute ago.
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But Nick takes him in a careful embrace. He runs his hand through his hair. He takes a breath. "So you channel them," he says. "They come through you."
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He's never thought that hard about the night terrors. They show up, he deals with them. Just like he deals with Ronan's. They're different, though. His aren't the same as his dream boy's but he keeps that to himself. Nick doesn't need to know that there's anyone else out there like him. It's one promise he's willing to make and keep.
Kavinsky sighs and leans into Nick for a second. He's never been held after something like this before and it's kind of nice.
"Should get rid of the body."
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Which means that there is a somewhere else, and he doesn't think it's from another place in the waking world.
But all of that is a thought to deal with later. Maybe with Ambrose. "Are you okay?"
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"I'm fine," he insists. "This isn't even the first time it's happened here. Shit happens. It's a consequence of the whole-- thing." He gestures vaguely, trying to remember what, exactly, he's said to Nick. My dreams are real.
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He presses a kiss to Kavinsky's temple. "Otherwise, I'll burn it somewhere."
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"I mean, I guess. Never took one apart before."
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“What things?”
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"I'll clean it up," he looks at Kavinsky for a long time, and then rocks over so he can hold him, if that's what K wants. "And relax. You're tense."
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He doesn’t know why but it feels like a visceral need. It’s his, it came out of him even if he didn’t make it. Kavinsky sighs and closes his eyes as he leans into Nick. He tries to relax. He might have something in his pockets to help him out, he can’t remember. He looks at Nick.
“Told you my dreams are real.”
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But then there's stillness; his hands move just a little, right in front of him. "Qui affecto protego, mixtisque iubas serpentibus et posteris meis stirpiqu," he whispers, and he feels that warm rush of the protection spell move through him.
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He wonders if the spell works the same if Nick translates. Kavinsky remembers sitting through Latin classes but he never thought he’d use it. Maybe he needs to brush up if Nick’s gonna be whipping it out.
“I know you believed me. But did you think I meant this?”
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He looks back at the thing. "I can't say I know what I thought. I've never met anyone else with that kind of power. We can go into each other's dreams, there are spells to take things and hide them in dreams, too."
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Kavinsky pulls Nick close so he can kiss him again. He needs to kiss him. He needs to do something to bury this feeling he doesn’t know what to do with.
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"I can try going into your dreams, if you want."
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That's all he gets out for a second because he's grabbing Nick's shirt, apparently refusing to let him go now that they're tangled together. But before long, he lolls his head to look at the thing on the floor.
"No one's ever tried to protect me before," he says out loud.
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-well.
Nick presses a kiss to Kavinsky's throat. "I protect the things I care about. I'm not losing you to whatever it is you pull out of your dreams."
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