So worked up from the contents of his dream, Cane hadn?t bothered with shoes or a shirt. Heat boiled beneath his skin. The generated waves that left his body met the cold, freezing air like a perpetual breath, curling away from him in cloudy wisps.

He was surprised to find a path carved through the piled snow when he reached the top of the building. And not only that, but several items he?d not put there himself: an old, weathered chair that did not belong to him, a blanket from his living room, and one of his hoodies. ?What?? He quirked a brow at the collection of items, stepping closer to touch the back of the chair. There were claw marks on the wood and a few feathers on the ground. The Cajun sighed and grabbed the hoodie, figuring he might as well put it on since it was right there. Then he moved the three bricks that were stacked atop the chair?s seat.

?He stuck a sword in me today. I haven?t been that scared since--? Salvador trembled and really lost his words. He managed only two more as a whisper. ?I?m scared.?

Cane frowned and dropped onto the chair with a heavy sigh. The cigarette package was tapped a few times against his palm before he shook one free. He placed it between his lips and lit it with a touch of his fingertip.

The memory of that first conversation about Roan swam to the surface of the Cajun?s mind. They?d only been friends at that time, and while Salvador hadn?t said much, it had been enough to light a fire in him. Rage had driven him from the couch, he remembered, to pace the small living room. The explosive gesture had startled the Spaniard and after an apology, he?d moved to sit with him on the floor.

?Ya shouldn?...ya--I could ****in? kill ?im right now. ****. Stay away from him. Tell Thorn--?

?Canaan.? The Spaniard reached, first, to touch his fingers to the Cajun?s wrist. Cold. Remember he?s cold. A warning, maybe, too, that he was moving. A quarter second later he twisted to his knees and reached up to tuck his hand against the nape of Cane?s neck and touch his forehead to the other man?s. Calm down, buddy.

The way the Spaniard said his name was enough to draw him down from whatever high strung place he was teetering. The Cajun lifted a hand to grasp Sal?s wrist tightly and blew out a shaky exhale. ?What I wouldn? give ta be able ta make ya feel safe, Sal.?

?No seas est?pido, t? hombre guapo.? An exhaled whisper from the Spaniard. The words didn?t suit the tone, though. There was a measure of affection there. Salvador lifted his other hand to interlock the fingers with the first there at the back of the Cajun?s neck. ?Por qu? crees que estoy aqu???

A brief smile flickered around the cigarette. At the time, Cane only understood half of the first statement and none of the second. But now, after several months of learning as much Spanish in his downtime as he could, the Cajun was able to recall the conversation with understanding. Of course, an echo of the smile flickered to life once more as the rest of the memory settled. But try as he might to cling to the steamy portion of the story, he couldn?t shake the depressing weight of the nightmare from his shoulders.

Leaning forward, Cane put an elbow on either knee and hung his head to stare between his bare feet. The night in the alley had been a stark reminder for the both of them. They?d only just discovered more than friendship in one another at that point. To have their freshly discovered happiness threatened so violently was jarring. It ate away at him, to remember the terror they waded through months ago. And while nothing new had happened in recent days, the threat of harm was still very real in the Cajun?s mind. He often pushed it aside and did his best to live in the now, but how was he supposed to completely ignore Roan?s threats when it drove Salvador into such terrible downward spirals?

The hardwood floors were freezing. They might as well have been made of metal and lining the base of a walk-in freezer. The temperature even inside the apartment was cold enough to make breath steam. A brief moment of stolen attention was enough to let the Cajun see how those tiny little bloody roots were constantly reaching and spreading like frost on a window pane, but red instead of white.

All the lights were off. There was no sign of the cat for a change. Salvador?s boots were by the door inside. His hoodie was spilled on the floor by the corner of the couch. He was beyond that, close to the floor-to-ceiling windows on the north side of the U-shaped sofa. The sniffling gave him away. He was curled up on the floor with his arm tucked around his head.

Nothing was said until he?d gotten down on the floor with Sal. Crouched low on bended knee, Cane pressed his palms to the floor and attempted to combat the cold with heat. Literally, there was steam. It billowed up under the Cajun?s hands where he pressed them to the floor, which hissed the way ice does when hot water is dumped on it. Finding him like this, in such a state, chilled the Cajun to the core -- that had nothing to do with the temperature. ?Sal.?

Salvador was trembling.

Canaan squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. The other hand reached up to plucked the cigarette out of his mouth after a long inhale. It dropped to hang between his legs, smoke rising lazily. With a groan, the Cajun mashed his thumb and fingers against his eyelids until he saw sparks.

A shiver wracked him, setting the spikes lining his spine to flexing erect and rattling. First, the Spaniard hunched up into a tighter ball of himself. Then he exhaled, sighing, ?Cane.? One of the arms tucked up around his head peeled away, flopped and slid, reaching, searching to find the Cajun?s to touch. His touch was like frostbite, like his blood; he was that cold right now.

Cane caught Salvador?s wrist and pulled while simultaneously sliding himself forward. He kicked his legs out, one on either side of the Spaniard and tugged until the boy?s upper body was propped up against him.

Salvador unwound from himself with a great gasping breath, and several more following, very nearly hyperventilating with the need to crawl into the man?s arms. The spikes twitched and unlocked at their joints, rattling to settle flat along his spine. He wriggled and wormed himself up into a position where he could stick his face into Cane?s neck and breathe him in. Then he shuddered relief and went still. ?Sano y salvo,? he sighed.

It was the whole Roan thing that had thrust them together to begin with. Friends bound by a desire to protect one another, who found shelter and peace in the other?s arms. Sano y salvo, safe and sound. Their mantra when plagued by fear and anxiety. The reminder that they were there for one another and nothing could touch them.

He stood, then, the muscles of his jaw clenched tightly together. Cane looked out across the harbor and willed the sun to rise faster. Behind him, in the east, the horizon turned from black to purple. Again his thoughts drifted to the night in the alley. This wasn?t the first time he?d had this dream. That night was never far from the Cajun?s mind.

After Salvador had had his fill of flesh and blood from a seedy smuggler?s dive bar, there had been no one left. Not even the bartender had survived. They?d ended up here. Cane looked down as if he could see his living room through the roof. The memory was so stark in Canaan?s mind that he remembered exactly where they were sitting, how they were facing, what Salvador was wearing. Roan had threatened to kill him that night and while it bothered Cane a great deal, what had driven him out of his mind had been the realization that he couldn?t have done anything to actually protect Salvador if Roan had followed through on any threats.

?He claims ta have wanted ta help ya t?nigh?, but did not?ing but make more threats. Ya ain? anyt?in ta him. A person don? say shit like dat ta people dey care about. Dem?s words ya spit at trash. Ta hurt ?em. Ta control ?em. If he don? see ya as a person, he?s...he could?? Canaan drew in a breath, feeling that familiar sensation of suffocation closing in around him. He gripped Salvador?s wrist and turned his face into the man?s neck while shrugging defeatedly. ?What could I ?a done??

Every word made the Spaniard?s arms tighten a little more securely around Cane, fingers unlocking to grip him by the arm and pull him in closer still. In fits and starts, Salvador trembled, twitching from restraint. His breathing was shaky, eyes still closed tight. He lifted his chin to make room for that face in against his neck, locking the Cajun in by setting it down on the crown of his head. He had no immediate response to any of that, due in part to the fact that all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry. Jesus. He managed, though, to suck in a desperately needed breath and lift his chin back up and over so he could press a hard, long kiss to Cane?s head instead. He found a few words to mumble into his hair after a minute.

?Sano y salvo,? he murmured. ?You did what I needed, mi lugar seguro. They don?t understand. I don?t know how to make them understand,? Salvador went on to say. He was still trembling. ?I can?t? I can?t find the words. Te amo. T? es m?o. Por favor, no me dejes. No puedo perderte.?

?Comment est-il, je sais ce que vous entendez sans conna?tre vos mots?? A short, silent chuckle rocked him. ?I love ya, too.?

Salvador sucked down a shivering breath around a smile. He let go of Cane?s arm and lifted his hand to the Warlock?s jaw, just to lift his face up to where he could steal a good long kiss from the man?s mouth.

Cane felt the strange rush of pleasure flooding in while simultaneously crowding out the worry and fear. But like all waves, this one didn?t stay for long. It crested as the kiss ended and reality crashed back down around him. Happiness was tainted with fear. There was always a flip side. Reaching up to grasp the Spaniard?s neck, Canaan shut his eyes tightly and pressed his forehead against the side of the man?s face. ?I don? wanna lose ya. I only jes? got?cha.?

He cursed abruptly and started pacing around the small portion of snow-free space Aoife had cleared away the previous day. Tucking one hand under the opposite arm, he hugged himself tightly and jammed the cigarette back into his mouth so his fingers were free to rake through his hair.

How much time had passed? Canaan blinked away the sudden gathering of moisture from his eyes and looked around at the skyline. Overhead, a seagull?s cry pierced the relative silence. The horizon was pink and getting lighter by the second. The sun would be up in a matter of minutes. When he looked back down, the cigarette he still held aloft was nearly spent to the filter. The Cajun frowned, exhaling a slow breath through his nose and lifted the cigarette to finish what was left.

?Sano y salvo,? he muttered into the cold, willing his thoughts away from the terrifying memories to something better. Something helpful. Not of Salvador in hysterics at the Cabin. There were good memories tied to the phrase, too.

As the sun continued to creep closer into sight, Canaan turned his thoughts to the first time he met with Salvador?s mother, Faye. Intimidating creature though she is, he?d found her words to be rather helpful. As a smile tugged at one of the corners of his mouth, he dropped a hand to touch along the back of his hip on the right side. Fingers delved beneath the waistband of his sweatpants to slide across the word Salvador had carved into his flesh.

"You are the one he has named ?gida." And with the slightest, barely perceptible tilt of her head to the right, she expresses curiosity.

Cane was a ball of tension and fire and unrest wrapped in brown paper packaging. Plain and unassuming, stoically expressionless until she mentions his name. Hazel eyes lower to study the wood grain. It's hard work to keep the smile off his face and he probably doesn't succeed entirely. "I never asked 'im what it meant." Click. Canaan's gaze returned to the curious Fae, his own head tipping like hers. "Will ya tell me?"

The way she blinks her eyes is lethargic, almost coy, and the corners of her mouth pull upward as if she might almost smile. Thirty seconds of silence stretch between them before she speaks again, to answer him. "Zeus wore the Aegis as a breastplate, it is said." Providing explanation with translation. Something in the quality of her tone changes. A little less monotone and a little more lyrical as she recites the passage for him, "'Thereon the son of Saturn Cronus seized his bright tasselled aegis, and veiled Ida in cloud: he sent forth his lightnings and his thunders, and as he shook his aegis he gave victory to the Trojans and routed the Achaeans.'" A brief pause again as her tone changes back. "Legend has it that when the Olympian shakes the ?gis, Mount Ida is wrapped in clouds, the thunder rolls and men are smitten with fear."

The Warlock's attempt at an indomitable exterior splintered, fragmenting as a touched smile lit his face. The feeling of pleasure he experienced manifested as a wave of slow heat that escaped him in all directions. He lifted a hand to smear his expression into something more invulnerable and nodded once. "'Sano y salvo', he tells me." Cane bites his lip, doubt touching his expression. "But I ain' done anyt'in 'cept...be. All I am now is a way ta hurt 'im more." Recalling Salvador's words: 'he'll use you to get to me'.

"Sometimes simply being is all one needs. Must a shield act to be effective? Or must it merely be worn?" Faye responded gently. Think on this. "Shelter is not found in the boiling heart of the volcano, but in the stillness of the mountain that contains its fire."

With his cigarette now finished, he opened his eyes and flicked it off the side of the roof, down into the street. Cane continued to finger the word etched on his skin while his thoughts drifted to the man who was asleep a floor below and his smile warmed. It was impossible for that smile to stay off his face for long when he thought about Salvador. For all the horrors Roan had put them through...the flip side was that it had brought them together. For that he would ever be thankful.

Turning around, he grabbed the blanket Aoife had accidentally left behind and carried it with him over to the fire escape. Carefully, Canaan climbed down the steep metal staircase. But before he ducked back into the house, he stood there to watch the last of the sun peek over the buildings in the distance. Morning had arrived. It sparked another memory worth reliving. Words from his Spaniard that he carried with him like his scar.

?Every sunrise I see is a little victory. I lived one day longer than they thought I would. One day longer than any of my kind before me.?

Cane hurriedly got back into bed after that. Salvador stirred the moment the Cajun wrapped him in a tight hug. "I watched anot'er one, amant. Ya got one more '**** you' under yer belt." Canaan smiled and pressed his face into the man's neck and thought to himself, '**** you, Roan. We got one more day.'