Chapter 4

"You're still bleeding," she says, and leans closer, eyes gleaming.

"Don't!" he says.

"Huh?"

"Just… don't. Something's wrong. We bit each other and were licking up the blood and something's trying to turn us into vampires Beckett!"

"There are no vampires."

"So how come you bit me and drew blood? Are you usually that vicious in bed? Because I have to tell you that bloodstains are hell to get out of thousand thread-count cotton sheets!"

Beckett raises an eyebrow at him. "Is that really your main concern?" she asks coolly. "Because you bit me too, and I don't have your laundry service. Do you usually get that rough? Because rough only does it for me if I get to be rough too."

Castle's mouth drops open. Fortunately no words emerge, since he would only get into (more) trouble.

"Urgh?" he manages. Some seconds later he emits, "You liked it?" She doesn't answer. "Anyway, you didn't just bite me, you clawed," he accuses. "You're just as rough. I think we need some ground rules, starting with no drawing blood."

She smirks at him, and draws nails very deliberately over his thigh. Without drawing blood.

"If you do that, I'll have to do this," and he draws his broad fingers across her thigh in return. She draws in breath, and opens very slightly to him, turning her face to hers; eyes deep and darkening. His turn stormy and intent as he bends his head and their lips touch once more, sparking the inferno.

He shoves her down, all thoughts of gentleness and doubts of their behaviour incinerated instantly by the sharp nip on his lower lip; his hands tugging up the nightdress and delving into soaked heat, hers pushing down the pyjama pants and finding the thick weight oh-so-ready for her; he pins her to the sheets and as quickly is back inside her, to her vocal pleasure.

It's only when he realises his teeth are back at her neck that he wrenches himself away, just ahead of her.

"Beckett, we have to stop."

"That's not something I ever thought I'd hear you say in bed," she flips back, but her eyes are confused, and she's not her normal snarky self.

"Something's wrong. I… um… I don't think we should be doing this."

"We are not turning into vampires. Or any other form of supernatural entity."

A high, whining noise sneaks through the windows: the wind, ridiculing her statement. Beckett ignores it.

"What else could it be? Something's trying to possess us."

"Castle! We have not passed through a time slip. The house is not haunted, and we are not being possessed and turned into vampires." Her voice is almost firm.

Outside, yellow eyes gleam, white wings swoop, thin clouds and mist screen the forest. The high, whining wind continues, and a shadow flits across the moon. Perhaps it's just a trick of the light that makes it seem to have wide, dark wings, perhaps it's just an optical illusion.

"This isn't real," he says.

"Not real?" She sounds shocked, and tries to turn away.

"We're real. But the rest isn't. It's not how it should be. It's too dark and too rough and it's just wrong."

"It was wrong," she says flatly. "Okay. Then let's just go to sleep and forget it ever happened."

About that point it dawns on Castle that Beckett has totally misunderstood him. "Not being in bed with you," he says irritably. "That's not wrong. Don't be dumb. But the way it went the second time, and how it was about to go this time – that's not right. We agreed it wasn't right, and then we were straight back to it. Something's wrong." He forcibly turns her round to face him. "Are you really saying you normally draw blood?"

"No." She blushes furiously, but holds his gaze. Then she smirks. "Not on a first date."

Castle snickers, and drops a hard, quick kiss on her lips, pulling back as rapidly. They snuggle together, and without comment Beckett lifts the shield off the nightstand and they clasp it within their linked hands.

Outside, the wind howls furiously. Someone given to personification might have thought it sounded frustrated, but of course, even for Castle, that would be ridiculous.

"I…" Castle begins, tentatively. "Um… I think your shield is stopping whatever it is." Beckett stares at him. "What's it made of? I thought they were nickel silver. Alloy. No silver at all. If it was silver" – she cuts across him.

"Um…Silver under the front." She colours up very delicately. "It shouldn't be, but… well… Dad got it made when he got dry and…. Well… Anyway, lots of officers have a faked badge because if you lose the real one you're in trouble."

"That's it! It's silver. That's why it works." Beckett stares some more. "Beckett, everyone knows that silver protects against evil."

"You what now? Seriously?"

"Yes. It worked. Look, we're holding on to it now and we're not… um… well, we're not…." Not fucking like animals with teeth and claws and licking up each other's blood. He's got enough self-preservation to keep that happy little thought firmly behind his forehead. "Look. If you don't believe me, let go of it."

She does. Beckett never backs off from a challenge. He does not let go, the edges biting his palm.

The wind chuckles at the window, a mean-spirited draught scraping at Castle's shoulders. In the corners, the shadows press at the pools of light from the lamps; outside, the owls and wolves hoot and howl.

For a minute, there is quiet, and nothing happens. Then Beckett's fingers clench in the gossamer fabric around her, and her whole body tenses, resistant. He's seen this posture before: when she's doing something she doesn't want to do. Talking to him, for example. It lasts another minute, the fabric creases and crumples in her grip –

And then her body relaxes and her eyes turn a strange, half-luminous shade in the moonlight as one of the lamps gutters and goes out and she turns into him and kisses delicately at his pectoral. As if that weren't arousing enough, her hand trails over his thigh, and settles, as featherlight as the fabric surrounding her, on to his groin. Shield in his hand or not, he's instantly aroused. Then again, he's been in some way aroused around Beckett since the day he met her, it's just that sometimes it's not physically apparent.

She takes swift, savage advantage of his arousal, nipping sharply, a little painfully, at his nipples, palming him with more than a hint of sharp nails: a little more edge than, held to sanity by the silver shield, he likes. He gives only another few seconds, in which she nips hard enough to leave a mark of possession on his chest; moves towards his neck – and that is far enough to prove his point. He presses the shield against her, and she stops, wild-eyed.

"What the hell?" she asks the heavy, cold air about her; but answer comes there none. She looks at Castle. "That… that's not me." She swallows, thick and scraping. "I… it wanted to bite."

Castle cuddles her in, making absolutely certain sure that the shield is touching them both. "It's nice to know that you – real you – doesn't want to bite. I don't look nearly as good with teeth marks in my ruggedly handsome neck."

Instead of laughing or rolling her eyes, Beckett winces, and looks away. Castle pulls her in tighter and gently turns her face back to meet his gaze again.

"It's okay. After all, right now we both have teeth marks." He traces the trail of blood on the nightgown. The wind whips up again, hammering branches against the window. The eerie howling of the wolves intensifies. Suddenly the darkness outside is pressing in: every tap of the clawing branches sinister; every scuttling shadow scary. A door slams, again.

"It's not inside," Beckett says, very firmly. Suspiciously firmly. "We checked."

"Um…" Castle says with considerable trepidation. Beckett is not going to like his next words, he knows. "Did you notice that when we were… er… under the influence everything wasn't so spooky?"

"Are you seriously suggesting that this place – which is not through a time slip and is not alive and is not able to make us do anything – is trying to turn us into vampires by scaring us into each other's arms?"

"Er… yes?"

"Oh." Silence. "Dammit." Silence. "I really hoped I was just being dumb."

"You agree with me?"

"Evidence," Beckett spits out bitterly. "Got to go where it takes me. Yes, I noticed that when we – er – then it got quieter outside. Now there's lots more howling, the wind's risen, and the trees are tapping the windows. Not to mention the slamming door that wasn't."

She looks around the room angrily. "And the lamp shouldn't have gone out either. So something's up." She glares. "Unless this is a dumb prank that someone" – she skewers him – "set up."

"No." He stops there. Saying not much point in setting you up since you were pissed at me anyway and I like living is not helpful. Besides which, he is now perfectly certain that at least half her behaviour was because she was – and is – attracted and then he hurt her by prying into her mom's case when she'd said don't. He can live with the Beckett snark. It's cute, and funny, and he can give the same back. He can't live with the Beckett anger-out-of-hurt, which only makes him remember that he caused it, first up, and then he's angry-out-of-guilt and then they fight and then they're back another ten yards behind the original first down.

"No," she agrees. "And Ryan and Espo couldn't fix this."

"Lanie?"

"She wouldn't. Lanie won't even watch a sci-fi movie let alone anything scary."

"So what do we do?"

"Hang on to the shield."

"While we're asleep?"

Now that he looks at her, she does appear tired, worn thin.

"If we pinned it to your nightie" – she flicks a sceptical glance his way, but there's no power behind it and her hand is still clasped in his with the shield between them – "somewhere I could cuddle you and touch it" –

"You what now?"

"Or I put on the pyjamas and we pin it to those and you cuddle me," he says happily. "Makes no difference to me, except that I guess I'm more likely to stay in touch with you." She raises an eyebrow in time with the rising of the wind to full gale force, the windows rattling. "I'm bigger than you. You might not be able to stay in touch."

Beckett clamps her lips closed. Castle is almost certain she was going to say I can take you and then thought better of inviting all his witty and salacious replies.

Another lamp gutters out. There are only two left, and the howling resurges, close enough that Castle thinks, shudderingly, that the wolves must be under the window. He doesn't get out of bed to check: he simply hangs on to Beckett and the life-saving shield.

"This should not happen," she says irritably, returning to normal snark, fortunately directed at the situation and not Castle. "It's not logical or sensible." She humphs, directed generically at the cabin. "It's ridiculous. It's worse than your crazy theories. This shouldn't be," she finishes plaintively.

"But it is. We're here." Despite the foulness of the dark, the weather, and the wolves, as he too holds the silver shield he's recovering some confidence as Beckett recovers hers. "We're here," he repeats, "in bed together, which I have to say is a totally interesting experience so far which I think we should repeat regularly – ow! That was totally unnecessary, Beckett! If you do that again I'll need to tuck you in so you can't." He pauses, and his mind skitters. "Um… actually that's quite a good idea anyway. But you shouldn't elbow me. It's unkind." And having had a good idea, he instantly acts upon it. Being quite a lot bigger and heavier, and not being impeded by several yards of floating fabric, very shortly he has achieved an almost nirvanic state of being snuggled down under the blankets with a Beckett-bundle wrapped in his arms and both of them in contact with the shield, which is pinned into the shoulder of the nightgown. (Castle had hoped to pin it over her breast, but no such luck.)

The one matter preventing complete bliss on Castle's part is that Beckett is currently muttering blackly into her pillow about big bullies rather than snuggling against him lovingly. That is entirely unfair – "What was that!" he yells, as he sees a shape at the window.

"What? Where?"

Beckett's sitting up with gun in hand in half a millisecond.

"At the window. I saw – oh. It was probably a bat."

"Ugh. The window's shut. Nothing can get in. Let's just try to get some sleep, okay? We've solved the real problem," she says reassuringly.

Castle slides back down under the covers and wraps Beckett in again, making sure that he's touching the shield. He had had every intention of making love to her, but if he doesn't keep a firm grip on the metal he's scared of what might happen. As he drifts into slumber, his imagination starts to wonder what the story of this cabin was.

Around the sleeping pair, pale fabric drifting about them as the blankets slip and slide, the lamps fade and fail and the black night draws them in, only a tinge of moonlight illuminating them. Thin shadows, cast by the branches, claw at their forms.

Castle, deep in vaguely horrible nightmares, chasing phantoms chasing him in an endless, Sisyphean cycle of pointless horror, doesn't know that he's let the shield slip from his lax unconsciousness. Gradually his dreams change from chasing phantoms to chasing a female form, garbed in gossamer, always slightly out of reach. He speeds up, desperate to catch her, keep her, take her, make her his and never let her go… but then he catches her and turns her and she smiles to reveal sharp canines and harsh green eyes in Beckett's face and he wakes panting and terrified – and shamefully aroused. He fumbles for the shield and only just touches it before he gives in to the appallingly strong impulse to cup and palm – but the right word here would be assault, he knows – her gorgeous breasts: the more so because now he knows how perfectly they fit, how beautiful they'd look with the trickle of blood across them… Oh, shit. He frantically finds the shield, and waits for someone else's thoughts to leave his horror-stricken head.

Sound asleep in his arms, Beckett snuffles gently and snuggles in. Castle, too terrified to close his eyes again, lies rigid until the grey watches of false dawn, startling at each hoot and howl; each trailing shadow and tap upon the window pane. As light begins to crawl in, he lets himself fall asleep.

He's woken almost immediately by a shriek.

"Wha'zz't?" he mumbles, thick-headed with too little rest and too many nightmares. Then he sneezes.

"What the hell?" are his next words, fully awake in an instant. Beckett is there in a few tatters of greying, fragile fabric, covering barely anything, the shield still at her shoulder. The blankets and sheets are dust laden and moth eaten, the bed carries a faint, disturbing smell of dampness and rot. The room is dilapidated, the lamps broken and empty, the roof open and timbers broken.

"What happened?"

"The sun rose," Beckett emits very shakily. "The sun rose and it all fell apart. I saw it happen. It's still happening. Look!"

Castle looks. As he does, the window frames dissolve, rotting, and the glass shivers to powder. "We need to get out of here!" he yells, and grabs his clothes upon the word. Beckett is barely behind him as they tumble frantically down the stairs to the lower floor, already old and stained with wet, the settle crumbling. They dress in haste and exit even faster, Beckett clutching shield and gun. Outside, they watch in appalled fascination as the wooden cabin…disappears.

"I wanna go home," Beckett says weakly. "I just wanna go home."

"Me too."

He extends an arm and finds hers creeping towards him. They cling together, still shaky, still scared. Castle, always more inclined to believe in the improbable, unlikely, and frankly impossible, stares at the space where the cabin had been, and around. The trees are thinning in the dawn light, he'd swear. There's a hum from far away, which after a moment he recognises as the familiar white noise of traffic, getting louder.

"I think we'd better get back in the car."

"Uh?"

"We need to get back in the car. I think we're about to find ourselves on the Palisades Interstate shoulder."

"Uh?"

"Beckett, just move!"

She finally gets into the car, not an instant too soon. As the sun rises fully, the last remnants of forest fade and they are indeed parked on the shoulder.

"My phone's working," Castle announces. "And my watch."

"We've got a three-quarter full tank of gas again."

"Can we use it to get home?" he says pathetically. "I wanna go home too."

Beckett simply nods and starts the engine.

"I'm going to see if I can find out anything about the cabin," Castle decides, and starts to investigate on his phone. It doesn't take him long.

"That's vile. Horrible. They… that's vile," he repeats.

He turns his eyes on the story once more. In 1850 there had indeed been a cabin, right where they had found it. That had been a poor year for crops, and a poorer year for deer in the forest. There had been a couple, married (of course, in those days), who lived there, scratching out a living with a pig and a few chickens, way up in the forest. But the fall had been hard for more than just humans… and the wolves had closed in.

When they discovered what had become of the couple, the searchers didn't just find their corpses: the wife in a pale nightdress, bloodstained; the husband in only his skin. They also found the corpses of wolves, bitten through the throat in a frenzied attack. The strange thing was…the teethmarks were human. On all the corpses: wolf and human alike.

No-one ever lived in that cabin again. It was left to rot, with the corpses within it.

Castle relays the brief, horrible story to Beckett. Silence falls within the cruiser.

Two hours later, they're pulling up at her apartment. Very little has been said on the way there, but with every mile of modernity an atmosphere of relieved reassurance has grown.

"You want a coffee?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Castle follows her up. She enters, kicks her shoes off immediately, gazes round and sighs with relief.

"Home. Normal. No more uncanny events."

She turns to him, draws his head down and kisses him. The clean fall daylight shines from hazel eyes to bright blue.

"No more macabre misdirection, Castle. Let's take this in the right direction."

Fin.

Happy Hallowe'en, every one! Thank you to all readers and reviewers, named, guest, and possibly ghostly.

The second chapter of Shadows will be posted tomorrow.