AN: Sorry for the delay! I feel bad for taking so long, but I had trouble figuring out where I wanted to go with this chapter. But now, here it is! Enjoy!

Chapter 26

"The longer she remains unconscious, the less likely she is to wake up." The doctor spoke evenly, having practiced this speech with dozens of others in dozens of different situations. I had to sit down, fearing my knees would buckle.

My wounds had been cleaned and wrapped quickly enough, and that left me with nothing to do but wring my hands, answer questions from the police, and wait nervously in the waiting room until they emerged from the room my mother was in to update us on her condition. And so far, things weren't looking up for the remainder of the Stone family.

"Can we see her?" Michaels asked, though not for the 'we' he'd spoken of. He was asking for me.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, her room is open to visitors if you'd like to see her." He paused, looking down at me with very unprofessional compassion in his eyes. "As a doctor, I can't give you much more information than I already have. As a human being, I've seen miracles happen. Talking to comatose patients has become an unofficial medicine. It may help bring her back."

I nodded weakly. "Thank you."

Bella squeezed my shoulders gently, massaging away some of the tension. "I'm going to call the others and let them know."

I nodded. "You should probably go home and get some rest. You've been here all night."

"So have you."

"I'll get some sleep. Go on home, Bella."

"You'll be okay?"

I planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be fine. Let the others know we're okay. I'm sure they're worried sick—and then get some sleep. You can come back tomorrow."

She nodded. "Okay." She pressed her mouth against mine for a moment, as though trying to convey that it was still possible to feel at all. I felt strangely numb.

I stood up as she walked away, leaning heavily on the wooden arms of the chair to help keep the weight off my bad leg. I nodded to the police officers and limped down the hall to my mother's room.

The dull beeping of the heart monitor was the only thing assuring me that she was still alive. Her breath was still shallow, and her hair hung limply around her face. She had a bandage on her temple, and dark circles clung to the hollows beneath her eyes. I pulled up a chair, identical to the thinly cushioned waiting room chairs, and sat down heavily. I took her hand in mine and rested my forehead against her knuckles.

"Please, Mom," I whispered. "Don't leave me now. I can't do this if I lose you, too."

I received no response, which prompted a subtle burning behind my eyelids. I ignored the tears as they dampened the skin on the back of her hand.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry…for everything. Just please wake up." I couldn't speak anymore after that. The lump in my throat hurt too much to try talking around, so I just held her hand and let myself cry, knowing we were as safe as we could be with Michaels and Ridley standing outside the closed door, keeping watch while I was incapable.

Something was wrong. My eyes snapped open, though there seemed to be no difference between the backs of my eyelids and my surroundings. I reached out, searching for the cot where I knew my mother should be. My hand touched nothing but thin air.

Panicking, I hissed, "Mom?" My voice sounded muffled, as though I was in a very small space.

Something brushed the back of my neck. I spun around, reaching automatically for a dagger to find that my weapons were nowhere to be found. What had I done with them? Where was my bag?

Something long and thick, like a big snake, wrapped around my throat and yanked me backwards. Tendrils of the cool creature snagged my arms and legs, holding me down while I struggled to get my neck free.

Oh, God, I couldn't breathe.

My muscles bunched, fighting with all my strength to break away from the invisible creature. I couldn't see anything, or hear anything, except my own ragged breathing. And then things escalated from horrible to nightmarish.

Something pulled at the collar of my shirt, ripping it in two down the middle. Exposing my torso. My struggles intensified. I was vulnerable—something was about to happen.

Something cool and sharp—a knife—stabbed into the skin of my chest, not hard enough to go through my chest bone. I cried out in surprise and pain. The knife raked around the middle of my chest in a circle, and I realized too late that it was cutting away the emblem on my chest. With a swipe of the blade and an agonizing scream from my throat, the circled skin was torn away.

It hurt to breathe. I could barely think past the pain. I could feel my own hot, sticky blood trickle down toward my stomach. I felt something else this time, five points so sharp that I felt my heart leap with unchecked fear. It felt like needles, but not quite.

Claws.

They traced the line of blood that was slowly working its way to the lip of my pants. They paused at the soft spot of my stomach, smearing the blood around. Preparing. I took a deep breath for what I knew was coming, and then I felt five needle-sharp claws delve into my skin, so deep that I felt the fingers connected to them, digging deeper and deeper until I was sure they would come out the other side.

I screamed.

"You can never defeat me as you are, Necromancer."

I jerked back, tipping the chair backwards as the scream died from my lips. My eyes snapped open as the sudden falling sensation, and I was blinded by the fluorescent hospital lights right before my head cracked against the beige tile. My momentum caused me to roll off the overturned chair, and I moaned painfully.

The door was thrown open, revealing two very panicked police officers and one startled Paladin. They collectively ran over to me and helped pull me to my feet. I was still a little dazed from hitting my head on the floor.

"What happened?" Michaels asked, taking hold of my wrists.

The dream came back with startling clarity, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I jerked my wrists away from his—though unintentionally—binding grasp and promptly fled the room. I made it to the men's restroom down the hall and collapsed in the nearest stall, without bothering to shut it behind me, and retched into the toilet.

Of all the nightmares I'd had since becoming the Necromancer, this one definitely took the cake. I'd never been more terrified in my life. It had felt so real. Groaning, I flushed the toilet and leaned back, running my fingers through my sweaty hair.

My back collided with someone firm and warm. I glanced up, already knowing that it was Blaise who stood behind me.

"What happened?" He asked softly, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly.

I shook my head and stood up. "Nightmare."

"Bad?"

"The worst." He moved aside so I could step out of the stall. I washed my face and mouth and then lifted my head to stare at my reflection. Blaise was passively watching me through the mirror, leaning on the space between the two stalls, arms crossed.

Just out of curiosity, and for my own personal satisfaction, I lifted my shirt and inspected my chest. I brushed my fingers across the emblem, assuring myself that it was still intact, and trailed my fingers down to the middle of my torso, at the soft spot of my stomach. Assuring myself there were no holes, finger-sized or otherwise, I sighed in relief and closed my eyes, letting my shirt fall back into place.

I felt rather than heard Blaise draw closer, until he was standing directly beside me. I opened my eyes and stared at him through the mirror. I wasn't sure what to say. What could I say? The last time I saw him—had it only been last night?—we'd more or less argued. And now he was visiting me in the hospital at God knows what hour because my mother had been attacked by the demon we were both looking to kill. The one who would raise Hell on Earth, literally.

"I'm sorry," we said simultaneously. He smirked; I couldn't manage that much, though the amusement flickered across my eyes for a moment.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked.

"For last night. I should trust your judgment. You've lasted this long without me, and in much more difficult situations than I've ever been in. I shouldn't be so quick to judge you."

"You're not. This town…they're quick to judge. You're the most patient person I've met so far—barring three certain civilians, that is."

"And I'm also sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me last night. And that your mother is in the hospital."

I shrugged, hoping it appeared more nonchalant than it felt. "Nothing to be done about it now. You would've gotten hurt, like me, if you'd fought with me last night, and if you really want to help now you can ask God not to take my mother away. He seems to listen to you guys more than me."

"Wonder why, blasphemous fool." It took me a minute to realize he was joking.

I placed my hands against either side of the sink and bowed my head, feeling much to helpless for my own comfort.

"You can never defeat me as you are, Necromancer."

I took a deep breath. "You can never defeat me as you are…" I whispered.

"What?"

I shook my head, standing up again. "Something Daedalus said. He told me I can never defeat him as I am. I've been trying to figure out what that means."

"No idea. It was probably just something to get you off track—you know, focus on something besides stopping him."

That rang familiar. I'd said the same thing when Jacob had asked about Daedalus telling me I had the heart and soul of a human and the strength of a demon. I'd been wrong about that. What if he was taunting me with more information that I didn't have? Was it something he knew could stop him, and he was baiting me with it?

"I could always ask him." I didn't like the idea even as I said it.

Blaise cocked an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"I asked him before, about the demon in me. All I had to do was wreck my car to find out."

"Uh-huh. How much more are you willing to lose, Gabriel?" He asked.

Abruptly, everything came spinning back into focus. Abby, my mother, the town. How much more was I willing to lose? I'd lost so much already. My eyes burned, warning me of what was to come, and I quickly averted my gaze, staring into the porcelain sink.

It didn’t matter. He caught sight of the wetness in my eyes, though the tears didn't fall. Reaching out hesitantly, he placed his palm on my back and rubbed back and forth, making me sway a little. It made me laugh, despite my depressing situation.

"You're hysterical," he noted dryly. His hand stayed on my back.

"Just a little, I think," I replied honestly.

"You should probably get some proper rest. I mean, not sitting in a chair."

"I want to stay with her."

"Gabriel…"

I turned pleading eyes toward his pale blue ones. "She doesn't have anyone else, Blaise."

"Can I at least bring you something?" He asked hopefully, dropping his hand back to his side. "Some food, something to pass the time? Maybe some sleeping pills?"

I chuckled. "That last one might be okay."

"Not hungry?" He inquired.

I was heartened by the fact that he cared so much about my well-being. "No, Mom. I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, someone's got to take care of you. You can't very well take care of yourself."

We turned mutually toward the door and walked into the hallway, though I limped more than walked.

"Can't I?" I challenged. "I've done pretty well without you so far, you know."

"Because you always had someone else there to help you out."

"Hey, speaking of others—how did you know we were at the hospital?"

"Bella called me. She said the guys wanted to come visit you in the morning, so they'll all be here tomorrow. And she said she'll give you your weapons back in the morning, too. You left them in her car."

"Ah, okay. Well, that's good. Company is good—but you can go home if you want. I'm in for a long night—er, morning."

He threw his shoulder against mine, not quite hard enough to knock me off balance. With a smirk, he said, "I'll keep you company. I don't sleep well most of the time anyway."

"Right," I said, not really buying it.

"Just humor me."

I managed a faint smile this time. "Fine…Paladin." I spat the word like an insult.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't test me, Necromancer."

I couldn't contain a laugh this time. We finished the trek back to my mother's room in comfortable silence. My friendly neighborhood police officers were each sitting in a chair at the door, one on either side of the doorway. They stood when they saw us approaching.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "Bad dream."

"It's fine, son." Michaels assured me. "We were worried it was something more…"

"Corporeal," Ridley supplied.

"Yes," Michaels said, nodding to his partner.

I nodded. "I know. I didn't mean to worry you. It's just been a really long night." I sighed, scrubbing my face with my hands.

"One of us can drive you home, if you'd like," Michaels offered.

"No. I want to stay here."

"But—."

"Believe me," Blaise cut in, "I've already tried. He's not budging."

"Can I at least—?"

"Tried that one, too," Blaise said, smiling.

Michaels sighed. "Fine. We'll be right here." The cops sat back down.

"Me, too." Blaise strode away to grab the nearest chair and pulled it up beside Michaels. "Go be with your mom, Gabriel."

I nodded. "Thank you."

AN: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!