Chapter Text
Caleb thinks it should just be the four of them; Staci, Joey, Sheriff Whitehorse, and himself. No one else has to get dragged into this. Showing up with an army will only result in more dead. And Caleb has put everything he has into trying to curb the human cost.
“Thought you wanted me there?” Jacob asks, sharpening his knife at the dinner table. Flecks of metal shavings collect darkly against the white paper towel he uses to catch them.
Most of the others have already left, Caleb having told them he’ll call when he needs them. They might as well enjoy their own beds, rather than stay another night in the cramped farmhouse, practically on top of each other. Grace stayed behind. For Joey, almost certainly. She showers while Caleb, Jacob, Joey, and Staci talk around the table.
“I do,” Caleb admits, pulling at his hair, “but I don’t want John there. And Faith is in no condition.” She’s been locked into the master bedroom for the time being. John is watching her now. When Staci last saw her, she was near catatonic. She needs a doctor, a real one. Not a veterinarian. She’ll start going into real withdrawal before too long.
“Armstrong can keep and eye on the two of them, easy,” Jacob offers.
Much like Staci’s relative ease with John, Joey has less boiling animosity directed at Jacob. Staci doesn’t fault her. He understands. “Like hell she’s babysitting the two of them alone.”
Ignoring Joey’s outburst, Jacob keeps his eyes locked with Caleb’s, “you know you need me. I’ve been part of your plan all along.”
Caleb shrugs, “Not really, you might still fuck us over but, if that’s the case, I guess all my good intentions will just become my worst regrets.”
It’s decided then.
—
Caleb says Staci can sleep in the master bedroom with him, John, and Faith. They can’t leave Faith alone through the night anyway. The bed will be kind of tight with four, but they can make it work. He’s even careful to let Staci know he can have one of the sides, closest to the door, and he’ll sleep between Staci and both of the Seeds.
“No, it’s fine, I’m okay,” Staci lets him know.
Joey and Grace have crammed into the second bedroom, Sheriff Whitehorse hasn’t arrived yet from the County Jail, having to make final preparations for the assault on Jacob’s stronghold and thus excluded from today’s earlier activities.
“Okay,” Caleb pats his shoulder, “you can come in if you need to.”
Jacob is in the shower now, having opted to take the final turn. There’s probably no hot water left, the drain clogged with blood.
There’s still something Staci has to do.
—
Jacob comes out of the bathroom, his bright hair still damp with cold water. He’s pulled on sweatpants, but even in November it gets too hot at night to bother with a shirt. He expects to find the living room empty, having heard vague conversation between Pratt and Nylander before turning on the water.
The lights are off, but he can see the back of Pratt’s head over the backrest of the couch, sitting straight up and quiet. Waiting. For him. His scent is nervous, excitable, but not scared, almost reaching out to brush against Jacob’s senses, inviting him in.
“Pratt?” he says, not knowing why he’s here. He expected Pratt to sleep in the master bedroom with the others. Anywhere but here.
“Sit down, Jacob,” he says, not turning his head.
Jacob isn’t sure where he’s supposed to sit, the sofa or the armchair across from Pratt. He ends up next to Pratt on the sofa, keeping enough distance between them that they don’t touch.
“Come here,” Pratt says, his hands palms-down on the tops of his thighs. “Come here,” he repeats, reaching over to paw at Jacob’s shoulders.
Jacob doesn’t question. It feels so fucking good to have his mate’s hands on him again. Skimming over scars and sins, Pratt rolls his hands down Jacob’s chest, letting Jacob settle his hips between Pratt’s spread thighs, one leg falling off the side. Any questions Jacob might have had die at the back of his throat as Pratt presses his tongue past his lips.
They’re both freshly showered, smelling of nothing but generic soap and each other, the mix of their unwanted union. But God, Jacob could get drunk on it. He leans Pratt back against the couch and kisses him, open-mouthed and terribly needy. Groaning as Pratt kisses back with equal strength, scraping his teeth over Jacob’s tender lips.
Pratt wraps his arms around Jacob’s shoulders holding them chest to chest. Jacob paws as Pratt’s shirt, urging him to take it off already. Nodding, Pratt lifts his shoulders just enough to grab the back of his T-shirt and pull it off over his head, static sticking his hair to the fabric. Jacob smooths it back down for him. He wants to touch Pratt everywhere.
“God,” Pratt tightens his thighs around Jacob’s hips, rocking up and into him. “Why does this have to be so hard?” Digging his nails into Jacob’s back, he scratches hard, pulling up skin and making Jacob hiss.
Jacob palms Pratt’s cock through the fabric of his sweatpants, he’s hard and heavy, ready to be touched. He has to fold up his legs to fit, but Jacob backs up enough that he can pull Pratt’s pants down and free his cock. Dipping his head down, he takes Pratt in his mouth sucking softly, letting saliva collect in his mouth.
Pratt whines, high and reedy, grabbing onto Jacob’s hair and pulling. Whines again when Jacob slots his hand underneath his hips to press his fingers into Staci’s hole.
“Fuck, fuck,” Pratt throws his head back against the armrest, hands clawing in Jacob’s hair.
When Jacob looks up, he can just make out the darkened color of the bite, beautiful against Pratt’s copper skin. He looks away, focusing on throating Pratt down, pushing until the head of Pratt’s cock touches the back of his throat, nose buried in dark hair.
Jacob’s fingers are sopping wet already. Pratt is more than ready to take his cock. But Jacob doesn’t relent, bobbing his head as much as Pratt will let him with fingers tangled in his hair.
Jacob feels it as Pratt’s body tenses, toes curling in his socks still propped up on the couch. He holds Pratt’s hips down, pinning him in place as he swallows, his sterile cum thin and slightly sweet.
Once Pratt is spent, Jacob slides back up his body, placing his lips against Pratt’s neck, then his mouth. Pratt tastes himself in Jacob’s kisses, sweat sticking to their skin, growing clammy in the chilled air in the room.
“Fuck me,” Pratt offers, keeping his knees apart.
Jacob kisses against his bite again, taking the waistband of Pratt’s sweats and starting to push them further down. In the end, they have to rearrange to get their pants all the way off, tossing them into a heap on the floor.
They both try and stay quiet, the house is full, after all. But there won’t be any doubts as to what happened. They’ve already crossed that threshold.
Jacob pushes into Pratt, slowly, achingly, until he bottoms out. Pratt’s legs wrapped tightly around his hips, locking them together. He kisses Pratt’s neck, licking at his pulse, snapping his hips back and forwards again, relishing in the heat of Pratt’s body. How it feels like Pratt were made for him. Like they should have met in a different life. Or this same one, with different choices, scattered and indistinct. Now forever out of their line of sight.
They rock together on the sofa, Jacob trying to draw it out until Pratt is hard again. Even mostly soft, Pratt leaks for him, fluid dribbling from the head of his cock into the hairs across his abdomen.
“Beautiful,” Jacob can’t help but praise, “so beautiful.”
“Fuck you,” Pratt’s eyes are wet. They always are. Jacob kisses his cheek where his tears streak down, curling back towards his neck.
His orgasm hits him slowly, knot expanding until he can’t pull out, only push deeper inside, press himself closer to Pratt until he feels like it’s Pratt who’s inside him.
Carefully, he rolls them over so that Pratt is sprawled out on top of him. Knotting face-to-face is never the best idea, but Jacob takes the opportunity to kiss Pratt’s swollen lips again.
Once he can slip out, he asks Pratt if he needs anything, still playing with Pratt’s hair. Pratt sighs deeply, digging the tip of his nose against Jacob’s chest.
“Hold on,” Pratt climbs off of him, crossing the room naked to where he’s left his pack. Jacob stares at his ass as he bends over, catching the barest glimpse of his work where Pratt is wet and open. “Sit up.”
Jacob obeys, sitting up straight with his back against the couch. Pratt sits next to him, opening his fist and showing Jacob two syringes sitting in his palm.
“Chemical divorce,” Pratt explains. “It will break the bond.”
Swallowing, Jacob asks, “how long have you had this?”
“The morning you were tied up in the attic. That’s where Caleb was. He was out finding this for me.”
“You’ve been using the bond to control me.”
Pratt snickers, “Yeah, and?”
“So why break it now, before we’re finished with Joe?” It only makes sense that Pratt would exert his control as long as possible. Breaking the bond now will make Jacob less receptive to what Pratt, and thus Nylander, wants from him tomorrow.
“Heard it hurts real bad, if your mate dies violently...either one of us….will be distracted. If something happens. Better to do it now.” Pratt passes him one of the syringes, labeled “A.”
“The instructions say thirty-six to forty-eight hours for complete effectiveness. So, it might still hurt. But it won’t be nearly as bad.”
Jacob rolls the syringe between his fingers, “You know, I could still betray you.”
“Yeah, you always could,” Pratt uncaps the syringe, letting the plastic guard fall onto the floor and roll under the couch. “Guess we’ll find out.”
Pratt stabs the needle firmly into the meat of his thigh.
Jacob only waits a moment before doing the same.
—
Staci checks his neck in the bathroom mirror. The mark is still visible, but has definitely faded. He decides not to wear his bandana. This part of his nightmare is nearly over.
Sheriff Whitehorse arrives in the early hours, just after dawn. The four of them from the farmhouse, Staci, Caleb, Joey, and Jacob, pile into the van together. Whitehorse gives Jacob a suspicious look up and down, but doesn’t say anything about his presence. He and Caleb have been in radio contact all this time, so it’s not as if Jacob should come as a surprise.
John and Grace see them off. Faith isn’t coherent, in the throws of withdrawal. Staci doesn’t say anything about the bruise on John’s neck, fresh and stark. Neither does Jacob.
Caleb sits up front, playing with the radio as Whitehorse drives. Staci sits in back between Joey and Jacob. Makes sense, since he’s got the shortest legs.
They’re still an hour away from the island when Caleb’s radio lights up. No one is surprised when it’s Joseph on the other side.
“A second attempt at your arrival...I’ll welcome you with open arms. And Brother, It is time for you to choose.”
“I’ve made my choice,” Caleb smiles, manic and cocksure, “I’m Wrath personified, remember?”
“You’ve taken my family from me, you will not walk away unscathed. Judgement will come for you.”
“You know, a stupid man, and I mean stupid because it was you, once said that John could charm the nuclear codes out of the President, right?” Caleb pauses, only continuing when Joseph doesn’t speak up, “For an idiot, that was a pretty smart observation. So here’s a million dollar question. Who the fuck charmed John? And fucked up your prophecy in process?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, shutting the radio off.
“You sure it’s smart to taunt him?” Joey asks.
Caleb shrugs, “nope, not at all. But too late now?”
—
Peggies line their approach to Joseph church, staring at the group of them with white garments and empty eyes, marching towards destiny. Joseph must have given them strict instructions not to strike, instead waiting for his command.
Caleb leads them forward, Jacob keeping pace at his side. The rest of them trail behind, sticking close together in formation.
Joseph smiles at them, terse and with his eyes narrowed under yellow lenses. “I’ve been waiting for this moment, child. And I will repeat what I have told you before. Leave this place to God. Do not return. And no harm will come to you. We wish only to continue on, in peace. But if you interfere, the will of God the Creator will not be—“
“I’m so fucking bored already,” Caleb snaps, pulling the syringe from his shirt sleeve and stabbing it into Joseph’s neck.
“Fuck,” Jacob curses, reaching for his gun.
At that point, hell breaks loose among the peggies, who are too fucking shocked to react with anything close to rationality. Joseph’s body crumples limply to the floor.
—
Staci ends up with a bullet grazing his arm. Hurts like a goddamn bitch, but could have been worse. Between him and Joey, they get the bleeding to stop until they can get him to a hospital. Caleb and Jacob are trying to patch up Whitehorse when Caleb’s radio lights up.
“Yeah?”
Jess’ voice rings through the mostly-quiet compound, “About three hours out now. Got the Guard. We’re coming in with choppers. Vans about an hour behind that.”
Caleb visibly relaxes, “We’re done here. Taken Joseph Seed alive. We’re going to transfer him to the farmhouse. Take it you can lead the Guard there?”
“Yes,” Jess confirms.
The compound is littered with corpses. Not all the Peggies are dead, some have boarded themselves inside their homes. The National Guard can sort out who is only injured, find who threw themselves into the river in an attempt to escape. None of them have the stamina to chase.
They have to shove Joseph’s limp body into the back of the van. Whitehorse can’t drive with his leg in the makeshift splint. Staci offers to drive in his place. Joey ends up on sedative duty, armed with four suspicious syringes provided by Caleb. She’s just supposed to pick one and “stabby stabby” if he looks like he’s waking up. Suddenly, it’s really clear why Caleb didn’t volunteer to drive.
Caleb gets into the back seat with Whitehorse, leaving the passenger side for Jacob as they drive back to the farmhouse.
Only once along the drive does Joey yell, “holy shit!” Followed by a mumbled, “never mind, we’re good.”
—
The National Guard arrives a little later than Jess’ estimate, the forward chopper landing out in the field adjacent to the barn after the sun has gone down. Jess leads the commanding officer to the farmhouse where Caleb greets her, shaking her hand firmly and trying to fill her in on the situation.
Staci and Joey stand on either side of Caleb. Not adding anything, but present in case Caleb or the officer needs them for anything. If nothing else, it looks better to put up a united front. Whitehorse is in no condition to stand, and Caleb tells her as much. Staci’s arm hurts like a bitch, maybe worse now that the adrenaline has worn off.
“I hope you understand, Deputy Nylander,” the Lieutenant Colonel explains, “that given the unusual circumstances, we’re under orders to bring you all in, transfer you over to the Marshal’s office, and let them handle charges from there.”
Staci freezes, realizing what that means. Some undetermined amount of time in federal prison while the Marshals “handle charges.” The idea of being locked up again, no matter what the circumstances, makes his blood run cold. He can hear Joey tense too.
“Okay yeah,” Caleb nods, “I guess we really don’t have a choice, huh?”
“Not particularly?” she says. Honestly, it’s a miracle she can wrap her head around what’s happened to Hope County at all.
Caleb invites her in, asks if she wants dinner while they wait for the vans? She declines, going stiff. Yeah, this all must seem really fucking weird to someone who didn’t live through it. The idea they’re about to sit down to a meal with John and Jacob Seed, while Joseph is too drugged up to know his own name, much less the atrocities he’s committed.
The vans arrive after they’re finished eating, and everyone inside the house is told to line up, single file. Caleb flags the officer’s attention, asking if the can talk for a second.
Staci expects Jacob to fight against the Guard. More than willing to die here, rather than be carted away in zip ties. But he stands at attention to Staci’s side, waiting for the guardsman to get to him and bind his hands behind his back.
Joey doesn’t look thrilled about the situation. But she complies. Another guardsman heads inside the house when Joey tells him that Whitehorse, Joseph and Faith Seed are still inside. They should bring the van closer to the house. Whitehorse’s leg isn’t in the best shape, Joseph doesn’t know where he is. And they may want to take Faith out in the chopper. Grace confirms that Faith’s been shivering and sweating since this morning. Nothing she could do for her but apply cold water and hold her hand.
After talking with Caleb, the Lieutenant Colonel tells her men to make sure the Marshal’s office knows John Seed is pregnant. In turn, they relay the information to her about Whitehorse, Faith and Joseph Seed’s conditions. She agrees to taking Faith out in the chopper and heading straight to the hospital. They have to put out fires as they spark.
It takes entirely too long to load them up into the vans and start out on the road.
Six hours, at least, until their destination.
Staci rests his head against Jacob’s shoulder as the rhythm of the drive rocks him towards a boneless drowsiness, even with his hands bound tightly behind his back, making it difficult to lean back.
Jacob whispers into his hair, “you still smell like mine.” And Staci can feel his nose pressed into his scalp.
He should point out it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. The bond isn’t fully broken.
Instead, he tilts his head enough to press his lips to Jacob’s shoulder, mouthing, “Yeah.”