(A/N: This was really late. Really late. Like, twenty days late. It would've been eighteen days late, if not for FN F3... Ah, but it's here! Almost a year of waiting and almost a month after its promised release, but it's here!

Without further adieu, I present to you, the long awaited Demoman chapter.)

The Demoman woke to the smell of rotten wood and gunpowder.

These were familiar scents, ones found constantly on the battlefield, but unlike a battlefield, this place was dark and cramped. His limbs were stiff and sore, as though he'd been in this tiny little… wherever… for a long time. His knees were pressed up against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around his legs. His neck ached when he turned it, and his arse was uncomfortably sore from sitting for so long. Wherever he was sitting really was small- his toes were jammed awkwardly against the bottom of the box, not having enough room to go anywhere else. The tiny space really was not to his liking… He'd been in bigger coffins, and thank God he wasn't claustrophobic, or this would've been hell.

He contemplated shouting for help briefly, but there was no guarantee anyone would hear him. It would deplete his air, supposing this box was airtight- which he doubted a little, due to the fact that he'd likely been in here for a little while and hadn't died yet- and if his captor was nearby, they might decide to shut him up permanently.

Oh, quite the pickle.

The back of his head had started hurting, much to his displeasure. It felt like he'd been hit in the head with something; that dull, thudding ache wasn't the result of a hangover, that much he knew. He didn't feel any nausea either, but he briefly reflected on how unpleasant it would be to throw up in quarters this close. Hot, thin bile retched up onto his knees and chest, like a wee babe who couldn't digest properly; the sickly burn in the back of his throat, the smell of his own stomach contents… Oh, lord, he was making himself a little sick.

Something moved- or at least, there was a noise made- outside Demo's tiny confinement, and the Scot looked up from his knees, although there was no way he could see what was going on outside his miniature prison. Had whoever put him here finally come to put him out of his cramped misery? Or, if not to kill him, to offer him a drink? He was far too sober for his liking, and figured whoever'd captured him should at least be courteous enough to share their booze. He was pretty certain even Americans were kind enough to offer a beer, as watered-down as the Americans seemed to make it.

"If ye aren't going tae let me out of here, ye could at least soak the wood with whiskey an' let me lick it off. Don't deprive a poor Scot of his d'ink, or ye'll be crueler than the meanest of harpies an' human-munchin' beasties."

"Scotland," came the immediate, snapped reply, "Is not a real country. You are an Englishman in a dress." Something- Demo assumed the toe of his captor's boot- nudged the side of his cramped container.

That voice was familiar. Very familiar. Same gravelly tone, sharp inflection on certain words, and harsh scorn of Scotland and her traditional attire… Demo had a pretty good guess.

"Jane?"

The Scot's miniature prison suddenly fell forward, making him shout in surprise at the sudden impact. The Soldier had delivered a boot to the back of it, so either he was in a bad mood, or a really, really good mood. Demo wasn't sure which he feared more. A bad mood usually had glaring, pouting, and yelling, whereas a good mood involved someone's arm getting broken. Demo didn't know just where the Soldier had taken him, so he didn't know if the Medic was within walking distance, and that concerned him a little bit.

There was a short silence, and then blinding light as Jane lifted the lid of whatever object he was inside. "Move it." The American grunted. "Get going, cupcake, before you get a shotgun round to the face. I hear you like the eye you have left, so move before I dig it out with my bare hands!"

Jane's usual threats. The man hardly ever followed up on them; most of his threats were merely bluster, hot air, although he definitely could do it if he wanted. But he was practically a kitten most of the time. A kitten who had questionable sanity and intelligence, as well as arms strong enough to easily snap a man's neck. But, still a kitten.

"Aye, ye've made your point, BLU." Demo groaned, stiffly crawling out of the wooden box that had kept him prisoner for God knows how long. "I need a d'ink and a piss. Where did ye put me scrumpy, Jane?" He looked around, squinting into the undecorated wooden shack they currently occupied. Like the box, it was windowless, but there was a door behind the BLU Soldier that looked like it could come off its hinges if it was so much as touched. The only light source was a couple battery-powered lanterns, randomly strewn on the floor and hung on the ceiling. There was nothing in the room but Tavish, Jane, the lanterns, and the box. "Didja swipe me scrumpy, Jane? Ye always were jealous of how much better it is than American booze."

"I wouldn't take it!" Jane protested, going a little pink underneath the helmet. Demo fought a grin that tried to form on his face. The Soldier was entertaining- and, dare he say it?- adorable when he was flustered. When the man went as red as Tavish's team color and sputtered like a preteen trying to talk to his crush, Tavish was endlessly amused. It happened quite frequently and never got old.

"Wouldn't take it, my arse." Demo said lazily, attempting to soothe the ache in his cramped limbs by stretching. His muscles groaned in protest, but he didn't mind all that badly- anything was better than curling up in a tiny ball. "I've seen ye take it wi' out the slightest concern."

"Taaaaaaaaa-viiiiiiiish." Soldier's stern, commanding tone dropped to a whine. "You're ruining it."

"I'm ruining it?! Yer the one who's kidnappin' me an' stuffin' me into wee li'l crates! An' if that weren't enough, ye whacked me in the head with yer ruddy shovel!" His voice took on a similar tone of complaint.

"I was playing it up for the cameras," Soldier said defensively, folding his arms. "I don't want to get caught again."

"Oh, pfff." Tavish waved his hand flippantly. "Tha's all? The ol' hag can't prove a damn thing. 'Less she has someone tailin' us, which I doubt, 'cause ye hit me in the head wi' a bloody shovel. Even I'm convinced we're enemies."

"Tavish…?" Soldier sounded uncertain, and it occurred to the Scot how that last sentence could've been misinterpreted.

"Jane, I dinnae mean it like that. We're best mates, ye ruddy moron. We jus' act like we're enemies really well, aye?"

"Right." Soldier definitely sounded more relieved.

"So, ye going tae tell me why you hit me wi' a shovel an' dumped me into a crate?"

Jane's eyes sparkled beneath his helmet, and he grinned broadly. "Right! Christmas! I got you a present!"

"Aye?" Tavish asked, looking around. Nothing had magically appeared. No wrapped gift or anything… Just him, the box, the lamps, the shack. "Where is it, then, ay?"

"Not here!" Jane supplied. "We have to go get it, because the owner would've killed me if I'd tried to get it to you before today!"

Demo looked immediately suspicious. "Ye sayin' yer going tae steal me present? Jane-"

"We! We are going to steal your present! I know you're against stealing, Tavish, but it's okay, because he stole your eye and he screams at my raccoons, so it's fair!"

"Bloody hell!" Demo's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Merasmus, Jane? We're going tae steal something from bloody Merasmus? He'll bloody kill us, Respawn be damned! He's a wicked, evil magician, an' God only knows what kind o' horrors lurk in his castle of black magic-"

"He's at the North Pole right now!" Soldier interrupted. "Partying with Old Nick! Not at home, so we can steal his things without being turned into hamsters! Once he turned me into a hamster, and I still have cravings for celery and woodchippings."

The Demoman took the time to consider things for a minute. Breaking into Merasmus's castle was a bad idea. Stealing something from Merasmus was also a bad idea. Disappointing Soldier, who was practically bouncing on his heels in excitement at the prospect of giving Tavish his gift, might be an even worse idea. Disappointing Soldier was like disappointing a small child, or a puppy… It made him feel guilty, simple as that.

"Aye, Jane- Let's go!" He said boldly. "We'll storm that ol' wizardly tart's castle an' get me present, if me name isn't Tavish Finnegan Degroot!"

Soldier's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

They'd gone directly from where they were to a nearby town, where they bought clothes and had a couple pints, then driven out at sunset to the moor that Merasmus had teleported his castle to. Soldier had admitted that he was only armed with his shovel and shotgun, whereas Demo had nothing. Tavish had raised a concern about this, but Soldier cheerfully told him he wouldn't need any weapons, as he didn't expect there to be any variety of threat. Tavish remained unconvinced, even as Soldier tried to convince them while they tugged on their dark turtlenecks in the car.

Soldier had griped about being dressed like a civilian at first, but after Demo pointed out they were going under cover and a disguise was necessary, he shut up about it. The dark clothes would help them blend into the nighttime countryside, and even if they didn't, it would still work as a placebo for Soldier. If he believed they were being sneaky, he might just end up actually being sneaky.

"There's the target," Soldier whispered, pointing at a dark, tall shape in the distance. Demo had guessed that already, seeing as it was the tallest thing out on the moor for miles, but he decided not to say anything. "Fifteen minute's walk," Soldier proclaimed under his breath. "Not long."

"Soldier, there's something I've been meaning tae ask ye, lad." Demo said quietly as they started creeping through the tall grass. "Does this place have any- ye know- magic- defenses? 'Cause I dunno if we'd be able tae get in if there's magic blocking our way."

"Nonsense!" Soldier supplied loudly. "The target is completely unprotected, and if there was any magic, I'd punch it in the jaw like a real man!"

"Aye, I'm sure ye would, Soldier, but I dunnae know if I could do tha'."

"It doesn't matter if you could or not anyway." Soldier shrugged defensively. "Merasmus' only defense is a locked door! And I have a key! Or a boot, if he changed the lock again!"

Tavish allowed himself to relax a bit. "Aye, tha's good. So we can jus' walk up, lad? No booby traps, magical or nae?"

"Negative! We may walk up, without any risk of harm!" Soldier declared. He gave the Demo a soft nudge with his shoulder. "Let's go, private, we're almost there!"

The Scot gave a wordless noise of protest, but continued wading through the knee-high grass anyway. Now that being magically assaulted wasn't on his mind, he allowed himself to admire the view. The waxing moon gleamed above both of them, washing both men and the rippling grass of the moor in a pale glow. Stars twinkled above, spattering the inky night sky with pinpricks of white light.

If not for the fact that they were on a mission into a dangerous wizard's castle, Demo would've called the breezy night serene; maybe even homely. It reminded him of the Scottish countryside, where he'd grown up after his real parents adopted him.

Demo honestly didn't expect it to be as easy as trotting from the edge of the grass to the gravelly area in front of the castle, and despite Soldier's reassurances, he was on edge the whole time. He followed carefully after Soldier, eyeing the tall spires of the great stone castle warily.

When they came to a simple wooden door, Demo half-expected it to explode as soon as Soldier touched the shiny brass knob. Needless to say, it did not, and Demo let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Soldier, unaware of his companion's anxiety, drew an ornate golden key from the ammo belt around his waist and simply unlocked the door.

It swung open with a push from Soldier. It made a rusty-sounding (and in Demo's opinion, cliché) creak as it opened.

Soldier took a step across the threshold, his footstep echoing in the large, empty corridor. Demo squinted past the door, but it was too dark for him to make out anything. Soldier took a couple more steps into the dark, appeared to be looking around. He turned to Tavish, giving him a thumbs-up and gesturing for him to follow. The Scot stepped in, albeit reluctantly and apprehensively, and slowly paced towards Jane, standing at his side.

As soon as Tavish was safely out of the way of the door, it slammed shut with a harsh snap, making Tavish jump in surprise. It was now completely pitch black, and Tavish squinted, trying to find Soldier in the murky darkness. "Jane, why in the name o' God did the door jus'-?"

"Anti-raccoon," Soldier said promptly. "So a ton of 'em can't get in. Merasmus insisted after Sergeant Scratches gave birth in his sock drawer for the sixth time."

"Aye, tha' would do it." Tavish muttered, trying not to grope blindly in his attempt to find the American. "Can we still get out through it? No need tae jump through a window to escape?"

"The door will not open unless Merasmus opens it." Soldier explained cheerfully. "But, it will open when I kick it with my boot." He didn't notice Demo's concern as the duo made their slow way down the corridor. Soldier seemed to know where he was going, so Tavish put his hand on the man's shoulder and prayed Jane knew what he was doing; both with where he was going and the escape plan.

"Won't Merasmus be angry when he finds out his… Whatever it is… Is missing?" Demo asked, wanting to make some kind of conversation in the oppressive darkness. "If there's anythin' I learned as a lad, it's that ye should never anger wizards. Or Nessie. Or any beastie, really."

"He's always angry." Soldier said dismissively. "When he finds out it's missing, he won't be any more mad than he usually is- Oh! We're here!"

"An' where is here, lad?" Demo asked, peering into the gloom. While he couldn't make out anything specific, he knew that they'd reached the end of the overly long corridor. The narrow hallway had opened up, into a large chamber, but if there was anything in it, he had no idea what it was.

Soldier took a bold step forward, and the room erupted in lime green fire.

Every surface suddenly combusted, flames bursting from nothing, swathing everything in the room with a fiery green.

Demo gave a shout of surprise, letting go of Jane's shoulder to stagger back, but American seemed unfazed by the bright green inferno. It died quickly, thank God, the flames all gradually dying, save for flames that now blazed on systematically placed torches on the wall. The room appeared unaffected by the blaze; the floor, walls, and contents of the place appeared unsinged. Evidently the big blaze had been for show and nothing else; or it only harmed living creatures.

Demo looked around, still feeling quite startled. It was a large, open room, where a ball would've been held, had this been several hundred years ago and a castle not belonging to Merasmus. A banister of stairs led from both the left and right of the castle, converging in the middle to make a singular staircase. The rooms upstairs were mostly obscured from view by the walkway of the upper story, but Tavish assumed that Soldier and Merasmus slept up there.

In the room itself were bookshelves. Twice as tall as Soldier, with a ladder propped lazily on one of the shelves, the bottom half of it marred with raccoon bites and scratches. Dusty old tomes were loosely tucked into the battered shelves, loose and old papers were tucked into books or resting on other volumes randomly. Objects that Tavish had no name for sat on some of the shelves, and plants so dried and wrinkled he doubted could be recognized as actual plants anymore. There were some half-hearted attempts at order, where some shelves were neatly organized, but they were overshadowed by the majority: sloppy and random book and paper placement.

Demo wondered if the place had been cleaned since the night he'd lost his eye. Judging by the layers of dust, literal cobwebs, and muddy bootprints all over the chamber floor, it hadn't. For such a fussy, overblown wizard, he wasn't incredibly meticulous about his stuff, was he? Demo wondered whether it was out of sheer laziness or reluctance to scream at the boarish Soldier for making more messes. Likely both.

"Needs a good dustin'." Tavish muttered. "Lucky I'm nae allergic."

Soldier gave the bookshelves a vague, cursory glance. "He yells at me if I touch his stuff." He sniffed dismissively. "Not my problem if he treats his magic stuff like crap."

"Is my present 'round these shelves…?" Demo asked curiously, peering at the books to see the titles. He was willing to bet there was something interesting around here, something worth reading. He knew the Soldier wouldn't dare give him the Bombinomicon, but he wondered if he'd see the wretched book during this trip. Maybe he could give a nickel to the thing in return for his eye…?

Soldier jolted him from his thoughts. "Negative! It's upstairs!"

"Would ye mind telling me what it is?" Demo asked. "Or, are ye still insistin' on a surprise?"

"It has to be a surprise," Soldier declared. "The trip'll be ruined if it's not!"

"Aye, alright." Demo soothed. "Don' wanna spoil it for me, aye? I kin live wi' a wee bit of mystery."

The duo headed for the grandiose stairs, Soldier leading the way. At the split in the staircase, Soldier chose the right and continued heading forward, down a long corridor. Demo trailed after, wondering what some of these rooms were used for. There was only so much space two men and a horde of raccoons could take up; how many of these rooms were empty, or served as nothing but storage? It seemed a bit of a waste to Demo, but he supposed Merasmus would like a gigantic castle just for the sake of having a gigantic castle, not out of need for storage.

"Here!" Soldier barked, standing smartly in front of a heavy-looking wooden door. He turned the golden knob, turned to Demo, and pushed the door open, grinning. "It's in he-"

Soldier didn't get the chance to finish his sentence before a translucent green fist collided with his jaw and threw him backward, where he slammed into the corridor wall and slid to the ground.

Tavish ignored the sudden threat in favor of racing to Soldier's side and kneeling next to him, peering concernedly into his eyes. "Jane! Are you alright?"

"I don't know what that is," Soldier groaned, rubbing his jaw. He stood, declining Demo's aid, and stared the foe down. "But I am going to beat the crap out of it!"

The door was opened wider, and Tavish's jaw dropped as he caught sight of the new enemy. It was an exact replica of Soldier, down to every hair on his turtleneck. The only difference between the two was that the replica was an ugly swamp-green in color and translucent. The Demoman could see the wooden door through the monster, even as it turned and closed it tightly. It cracked its neck, knuckles and glowered at the two menacingly, pale green eyes locking on Jane's with nothing but raw hate in its gaze.

Soldier took his shotgun from his waist and fired.

The thing didn't even flinch as it took a near point-blank shot to the face. The pellets were caught in its face, one lodged in its chest. Tavish could see the buckshot inside the thing, especially when the creature repaired its own damaged pseudoflesh, sealing the slugs inside itself, reminding him a little bit of fruit inside jell-o.

It gave Soldier a second of pause. He let off another round, which the thing yet again shook off with minimal ease. When it lunged for Soldier, the man sprang away, back colliding with the wall. The creature ripped the shotgun away from him with little effort, grabbing the barrel and trigger, bending it to the point of uselessness. It bared its ghostly green teeth and Soldier gave a shout of anger and surprise, kicking it hard in the chest. It stumbled for half a second, giving Soldier a precious chance at escape, which the American took. He dashed over to Tavish, looking both unnerved and angered.

"It looks like you," Tavish whispered harshly. "What the bloody hell is-"

It rushed the Demoman, charging at him with big, loping steps, and grabbed him by the collar. Without slowing down, it flung Tavish forward, pitching him towards the stairs like he weighed no more than a doll. The Demoman landed on his side, just before the first descending stair. He struggled to breathe for a second, after the landing had knocked it away, and gulped air greedily as soon as he could get in a breath. Soldier landed next to him a few moments later, similarly gasping for air.

"I think- it's a- guardian," Soldier managed. "I also think it might just kill us. I didn't know Merasmus liked his thing so much."

"How do we kill it?" Demo asked, determined. "Not even ghosts get tae toss around my best mate like tha'." He sat up, getting to a knee, then standing. He squinted at the slowly advancing Soldier-guardian. It didn't appear to move very quickly, at least not when the mercenaries weren't within a close proximity. A weakness, maybe, even though it didn't appeared to be particularly slow when it had hurled them thirty feet.

"I don't know," Soldier said honestly. "Merasmus won't tell me about his magic crap, says I'll break something."

Demo wracked his brain, sparing the ghostly green Soldier only a quick glance. "It's just a puppet, aye? No real brain? If we cannae beat it wi' strength, maybe we can outsmart it."

"Downstairs," Soldier suggested quickly. "Lure it between the bookshelves, knock one over, and crush its green, glowing ass!" He got to a knee, invigorated at the prospect of killing the thing. Tavish extended a hand and helped haul the American to his feet, starting for the stairs and managing to get down a few before an angry yowl interrupted him.

The guardian was less than five feet from the top of the stairs, its slow, prowling steps halting as the three stared at each other. The pseudo-Soldier's face twisted into an inhuman grimace, crinkling its nose, flaring its nostrils, curling its lip, and baring wickedly sharp teeth. A snarling, growling burble came through those fangs, and a chill of icy fear ran up Demo's spine. If Jane was similarly affected by the sound, he didn't show it. He bared his teeth at the guardian, the two Soldiers wearing expressions of the utmost hatred and rage.

The ghostly Soldier lunged, while the original met him head on, slamming his head into the guardian's chin. The copy gave a snarl of outrage, staggering back a few steps.

"Jane!" Tavish called anxiously. "Come on! The plan's our best bloody chance, let's go!"

"I can take him, Tavish!" Jane called back cockily. "This ghost piece of crap may look like me, but he's a cream puff!"

"Jane, he threw ye like a bloody javelin!" Demo shouted. "It's going to kill ye, ye fool, let's go!"

Right on cue, the guardian cocked its fist and slammed it into Soldier's jaw, throwing him backward. Demo gave a shout of worry, Soldier gave a cry of pain and realization, and he slammed into what was roughly the middle stair with a sickening crack, continuing to tumble down the staircase until he landed at the bottom in a battered, broken heap.

The Demoman was shocked into silence and stillness, but started as soon as the first stair creaked under the pseudo-Soldier's weight. His heart jumped, starting to hammer. Soldier was going to be badly bruised and damaged, if his neck hadn't broken on the way down. The thought of Jane being dead made his heart squeeze, and rather than take the time for all the stairs, he mounted the banister and slid down. The guardian gave a warbling cry of outrage and moved to the next stair, enraged the intruders had escaped so swiftly.

Demo got off the banister, kneeling at Jane's side again, shaking his shoulder. "Jane. Jane. C'mon, lad, yer stronger than tha' bloody haunt, get up!"

"Tavish," Soldier groaned, making the Scot sigh in relief and his heart settle into a slower beat. "Let's do the plan."

"Can ye walk, lad?" Demo asked, glancing towards the staircase. The steps had slowed the guardian down even more, but he was still coming. He'd be upon the weakened, possibly crippled Soldier eventually. "We need tae go. I know ye had yer heart set on gettin' me tha' present, but it's nae worth dyin' over."

"I can do it." Soldier mumbled. "I can kill that son of a bitch ghost. Help me up."

"Aye, lad. I can move faster'n ye right now, so I'm bait while ye tip over the bookcase. Any objections, lad?" Tavish tried to keep his voice gentle and soothing, but the pseudo-Soldier was already halfway down the staircase and it was starting to worry him.

"Affirmative." The Soldier tried to make his voice sound confident. "Help me up."

"Anythin' broken, 'fore I grab ye?" Tavish asked. God forbid he grab the Soldier's broken arm and make the bad even worse.

"Left arm, maybe. Hurts."

"Doc'll take care of it," Demo said automatically. "Jus' hold on a wee bit longer, lad."

He grabbed the Soldier's uninjured arm, helping him up, trying to ignore the worry from the Soldier's pained groan.

"The second tae last row." Tavish nodded. "Will trap it, but'll be less of a mess 'fore the wizard. He's gonna be pissed as it is, best cause a lil less damage, aye?"

Soldier grimaced. "I'll lay low after this, Tavish. Merasmus gets loud and annoying when he's mad, but he cools off quickly. I'll be okay, Tavish, just focus on living for the rest of tonight."

"No problem." Tavish tugged his arm, urging him towards the bookshelves. "But we've got tae move if we wanna live tha' long."

The Soldier guardian hissed loudly, excited as it drew closer. Ten stairs until the bottom of the staircase.

Time to go. Tavish and Jane stumbled along, going straight for the bookshelf. The guardian's translucent boots hit the ground floor just as its real counterpart got into position, ready to push one of the shelves. Tavish lingered at the foot of the stair. The plan was to coax the guardian into going after Tavish rather than Soldier, and he hoped the grudge between the Soldiers would be ignored in favor of the Scot's closer proximity.

It was working. The pseudo-Soldier clomped after him, slowly hounding him as Tavish backed into a row of bookcases. Everything was working perfectly so far… Surely Merasmus had seen this glaring flaw in his security system? Doubt began to niggle at the Scot's brain. If this didn't kill or stop the ghostly Soldier, what did they have that would?

"Now, Jane, now!" He howled, before these creeping thoughts could fester any more.

The shelf began to tip, with a loud groan. Books, little herbs, or instruments clattered to the ground. Tavish scrambled, getting clear of the tall bookshelf and the falling objects. The guardian did not appear to notice the imminent danger until a several thousand page, leather-bound volume slammed into its head. It gave a low groan of pain that was overshadowed by its screech of pain and outrage as a heavy, sturdy shelf crushed it to the stone floor like a bug under a boot.

"Is it dead?" Soldier called into the ensuing silence. A pause. "Tavish, are you dead?"

"Nae, Soldier, I'm not. Thank God." Tavish said back hoarsely. "I think it's dead."

"So we can get your present?" Soldier asked, voice almost childish in its stubborn singlemindedness.

"Aye. But if another one o' these hell-ghosts is created, we're gettin' the hell out, present be damned."

"Okay." Soldier got to a knee, using his good hand to force himself to his feet. "Off we go, th-"

A green fist erupted from the wooden back of the bookcase, sending up a shower of splinters. Tavish stepped back in surprise, Soldier gave a yell of outrage. "We killed it! It's supposed to be dead!"

"Jane, c'mon," Tavish dashed over to him. "While it's breakin' out, let's go get me present. We can't kill it, Jane, we've got tae run."

Soldier grit his teeth. "I hate running. I'm not a coward."

"Aye, ye're not. It's a strategic retreat, 'cause it's better to live an' fight when we're stronger than tae lose jus' 'cause ye didn't have the advantage." Tavish said hurriedly.

"Real men should win without it," Soldier muttered.

"Real men don't die jus' 'cause they're stubborn arseholes who won't listen tae their best friend," Tavish argued. "Let's go, Jane!"

An entire ghostly arm had broken out of the wood, groping the surface blindly. Soldier still hesitated, and Tavish tugged his good arm urgently. "We've got tae go now, Jane, 'fore it breaks free an' kills the both o' us. I'm the only one here, lad, an' I won't tell anyone; so let's go!"

Hesitation, then a nod from Jane, and they bolted for the stairs.

The Soldier guardian burst from the bookcase with a sharp crack and a shower of wooden shrapnel. One of the shards nicked Tavish's calf, making him hiss and curse, but he didn't falter or stagger as he and Soldier raced for the staircase. The bellow of the guardian made his hair stand on end, and its reverberation in the castle only made it seem more otherworldly.

"Go, go, go!" Soldier barked, scrambling up the steps two at a time. Demo couldn't help but notice that his breathing was ragged, and he felt a pang of sympathy when he realized how much pain Jane was probably in. But the stubborn American would keep zipping about at top speed until he collapsed.

Top of the staircase. Dashing over the tattered, ruby-red carpet, jamming their heels into the ground to kill their speed when they got to the door.

Demo knew there was no time to waste, but he couldn't help but pause before he opened the door. Whatever was inside could be exceptionally dangerous, maybe even more so than the guardian. Trying to force down his apprehension and the nervousness of encountering a creature even worse than the guardian, he reached for the door.

Quietly, he pulled it open.

The room was unnaturally bright, making the Demoman blink and shield his eye. As soon as he adjusted, though, his hands dropped to his sides, his one eye widening, his mouth falling open.

The room was twenty feet by twenty feet, rounded, like a spire of a castle. There was a high ceiling overhead, but the room was mostly bare, save for a tall perch and the most beautiful bird Tavish had ever seen.

A macaw, he knew instantly, a gloriously lovely parrot. Their green feathers were glossy and undamaged, with a certain luster that reminded Tavish of polished gemstones. Four-toed feet, with a hind toe that let it tightly grip the perch it was resting on. Each nail was ebony black, gleaming, neatly filed into elegant points. The bird had orange-gold feathers on its chest, soft and downy, and a flawless, charcoal-colored beak. It had a white face, with little lines of neat black feathers marking it. It had a crest of long green feathers on its head and neck that rose when Tavish entered, and its large, intelligent golden eyes were almost luminous.

Tavish stood there for a moment, completely surprised by the handsome macaw. That'd been the last thing he was expecting to find.

"Bloody hell," Tavish murmured, breaking his own reverie. "What's yer name?"

"Her name's Morgana." Soldier supplied, entering the room.

"The sorceress?" Tavish made a face. "She's as pretty as the lass in King Arthur, but is she as dangerous?"

"She's magic!" Soldier offered instantly. "Merasmus found her on a trip to… I don't remember, but he wanted to see if she could be used as a maid. Since, you know, magic. She keeps refusing him. He said she called him a 'cheap, idiotic fool' and bit him when he asked her to clean."

"Ye won't bite me, will ye, lassie?" Tavish cooed to the parrot, stepping closer to her and cautiously offering his hand. She appeared to be indifferent, and Tavish turned a little, offering his shoulder to her.

She shifted from talon to talon, as though debating, then hopped onto the Demoman. She flailed a bit, pumping her wings to balance herself, and she scrambled up onto the slope of his shoulder. Her toes squeezed slightly, trying to find a comfortable grip, and she eventually settled into a position that was both comfortable for man and bird.

"Now we get the hell out, aye?" Tavish nodded to Soldier. "I'll thank ye for her once I'm sure tha' I'm gonna live tae keep her."

Soldier beamed, and the newly formed trio turned for the door, only to blanch at the sight of the guardian entering the doorway.

It thrust its jaw out, gritting its blunt teeth, spitting and snarling in inhuman rage. It stumbled as it staggered after both Tavish and Jane, the door swinging shut behind it. To Tavish's shock, the door physically changed, becoming the same as the rest of the cobblestone wall.

Locking them inside.

With this unstoppable monster.

Demo resisted the urge to back into the wall and shouted in alarm as Soldier lunged, tackling the guardian. His hands flew over cold, inhuman skin, and grabbed the monster's throat. "Huttah!" The Soldier shouted. "Neck snap!"

When he tried to twist it, he gave a scream of pain as his broken arm shot fire up his body. While the Soldier was distracted by his pain, the guardian grabbed him by the waist and flung him across the room. Tavish dashed in front of the cobblestone wall that Soldier would've slammed into and let Jane crash into him instead. Human flesh was considerably softer than stone walls, and Soldier was already beaten.

The breath was driven from Demo's body, and Soldier slumped to the ground, but he preferred gasping for air to having Soldier's back or neck broken on the wall.

The guardian stood up, approaching with a manic gleam in its green eyes. It knew they were helpless and cornered, and it loved it. Its mouth was slightly open, only making it look even more unsettling. The pseudo-Soldier didn't have a tongue; when Tavish looked past its teeth, there was only smooth green flesh. That didn't stop slobber from escaping the monster's mouth, the drool pooling on the stone floor.

"We're going to die." Tavish muttered hopelessly, looking down at the American quietly. "I want ye to know, Jane, you're me best mate. Bloody brilliant, Jane, s'what you are. Mad, too."

"You're my best friend too, Tavish." Soldier said back, grinning weakly.

The ghostly Soldier grabbed Tavish by the collar, starting to lift him. Tavish glared defiantly into its eyes.

Then Morgana screamed, and all hell broke loose.

The guardian dropped Tavish, howling in otherworldly pain, the monster's voice pitching harshly in agonized anguish. The real Soldier was writhing, clutching his ears, screaming as well, eyes shut tight. The entire tower felt like it was spinning to Tavish. Everything grew brighter, and along with Morgana's constant scream, there was a dull roar, like a waterfall or a rushing train. Tavish shut his eye, but splotches of color invaded the darkness, spreading pervasively throughout the blackness, blazing neon seemingly burned into his eyelid.

"Stop!" Tavish screamed desperately, and the sound and light abruptly went black and silent.

When Tavish woke again, he was curled up on his side on the stone floor of Morgana's tower, knees up to his chest and chin pressed to his collarbone. Despite the cold of the floor and air, Demo felt oddly comfortable, reluctant to leave this cozy spot on the floor. When he tried to twitch and move, his body ached in protest, telling him he'd better stay still or suffer the pain of activity. He gave a weak groan and still tried to move, wiggling his toes and fingers.

There was a soft whistle from nearby, and the click-clack of talons on stone. Tavish moved his head to see Morgana. Her feathers were glossy and smooth, her intelligent, pretty face staring down at him. Her yellow eyes seemed almost sympathetic, and as strange as it was, the Demoman took comfort from that.

He liked the idea that she had been on her perch, watching the both of them, like a tiny, feathered little nurse. She had waddled over to him as soon as he moved and made noise; that was a solid point in his nurse theory. "G'mornin', ye wee li'l screecher."

The parrot straightened, puffing out her chest slightly. It gave another whistle. She tugged at his hair with her beak, and with a reluctant sigh, Tavish forced his body into activity. Stretching, which made his muscles protest again, and then getting to his hands and knees.

"Jane," He murmured to himself, rubbing his eye. Judging by the fact that the ghostly Soldier was nowhere in sight, he'd say Morgana's screaming had killed it, or at least had made it leave. He looked around, and relaxed when his gaze finally settled on Jane, who was curled up on his side. He was on the other side, but even from here, Tavish could see his flank still rose and fell. Alive, then. Alive, but asleep.

He crawled over to the Soldier, nudging him a bit. "Jane. Soldier. Jane." He gently kneaded the Soldier's side, which made the American's eyelids flicker and a tired groan come from his throat.

"Thank ye for the present, lad." Tavish smiled down at him, and a weak grin spread over Jane's face.

Demo lowered his head, gently kissing the American. The hand from Soldier's unbroken arm came up, to gently frame the Demo's jaw.

The Soldier's eyes closed.