Colton’s head was racing with thoughts while they waited for Father Bation to finally show.

He wondered what could have happened to Evan to turn him into the cold Auriel that stood at his back, his eyes piercing through his back like he was trying to pry him from his flesh as they waited, instead of giving over the only piece of his home that he had left.

He wondered what kinds of torture he had been through, what training, was there even a sliver of his friend left? He thought he’d heard it when he joked about the interrogation, but even that was off. It wasn’t quite Evan, not the one that he had known for years. But it also wasn’t quite Auriel, he hoped; it seemed lighter than the one that he had met.

There was a mix of both in Auriel’s voice as he spoke with the two of them.

He hoped it was just the five years that they had spent apart. He hoped it was time warping the memories that he still had of Evan that controlled the difference, though he knew it wasn’t. He knew that there was real pain there, a fresh wound reopened by his presence in a place that Evan surely thought should have stayed far away from Colton.

A fleeting question crossed his mind, wondering if he would have noticed the difference in him if they had been reunited back at home. Would he have seen that Evan wasn’t just him anymore, that he was more than Colton could wrap his head around, if he had come home freed of the torture he was going through here?

Colton didn’t know, and that scared him more than the fear Gabriel had on her face when Bation’s name was mentioned before she covered it.

Was she the same as Evan?

Was Abigail gone now, forcibly replaced by Gabriel, though her years on the island? What about the others?

Sam replaced by Michael?

Willow replaced by Raphael?

Lillian replaced by the Princess of Magnolia?

Would he ever get to know the real them? Did they all have fleeting moments where the mask they had been forced to wear slipped? Would he ever learn how to save people from each other?

Could he save the next victims from ever knowing they would have been victims of Father Bation?

He hoped so. But he knew he was not the first to sit in that room thinking the same thing.

Colton looked at the wall in front of him, shoving the worry to the side, and shutting down the scared human he was to turn on the analytical detective he had trained himself to be better than he could ever have been as Colton White.

He studied the wall, seeing every dent in its metal frame, every patched piece of evidence that he wasn’t wrong, everything that told him a new story that he didn’t know yet. He wondered who the dents were from, who had to have the wall patched after their time in the freezer. He wondered what stains he couldn’t see anymore. His mind flashed with every possibility, every way that his next meeting could go.

He wondered if Bation saw himself as divine, the same way that he saw his victims. If he did, the next question was who?

If they were his warriors, did he think he was God? If he did, that wasn’t the role he seemed to play. That’s not what he had told Colton at the gala; he called himself a priest, a servant of God. Was that it? Did he think he was just following his divine purpose laid out for him by God?

Colton had researched crazier nutjobs and helped put worse in prison during his brief time as a consultant for the department.

This should be easy. But it wasn’t.

Auriel’s hope of a quick time in the freezer was ignored. It was easily another few hours before the door reopened and was propped open. Colton listened as the man paused before walking to him, walking closer to him than Ryan or Gabriel had, with a slight shuffle of a still sore leg behind each slow and purposeful step that he took.

Father Bation had no reservations about how close he could get to Colton, as though he knew that there was nothing that could happen to him. God, he concluded, he has to think he’s God.

“Comfortable, Mr. White?” He grinned as though it were a five-star hotel room that he was asking about instead of a metal chair that was now frozen to the ground.

He didn’t respond as Father Bation set down a leather bag with a heavy thud.

“I hope so,” He continued, as though it were a normal conversation, “No one here likes the next part.” He pulled out two golden cresents. Their eyes met for a moment as Colton watched the glee that filled Bation’s features, “This should only take a moment.”

He leaned forward enough to clamp the still-hot metal around his neck. It hissed, sealing the two halves of his collar together as a pained scream escaped him. It felt like lava searing into his chilled skin, locking itself into place in a pact with Bation to force him into whatever the man wanted.

Bation watched as he struggled against his restraints, desperately trying to claw the metal off his neck, with glee, until he looked up to someone behind him, “Hold his shoulders.”

“What?” Ryan’s shock shuddered in the word.

“You’re the handler, Handle.” Bation hissed as he grabbed the next two cresents.

Eight were placed in total, each doubling his pain, the collar on his neck, two at the top of his biceps, two at his ankles, two at his mid thigh through his torn dress pants, and one on his left ring finger, sealing his forced commitment to the man. Bation paused after each one, waiting for his pain to ease, either out of mercy or to make sure he wouldn’t pass out during the process so that he’d feel everything.

As Colton caught his breath, doing his best to push the pain aside, Bation let Ryan take off the restraints. The movement rubbed against his tortured skin, burning it as though the movement alone were a ninth, tenth, all the way to thirteenth, crescent searing itself into his skin.

He slumped to the ground, the restraints the only thing keeping him in the chair, the floor a welcome chill against his inflamed skin. He heard a bellowing laugh from above him, from Bation, he assumed, though he couldn’t place it for sure.

“My fifth Saint, my fifth try, taking his Sins the best out of all of them, is a surprise. Even Auriel still fought to stop me. I suppose that is your nature, Chamuel, isn’t it?”

It is not, he wanted to glare at the man; he wanted to prove him wrong about who he was. He was no Angel, not since he took Evan from him.

His foot was kicked, an order sounded from Bation’s lips, and he obeyed, even though he couldn’t hear the words.

Like a puppet hanging from the puppetmaster’s strings, his limbs contorted for him, standing him upright despite the pain that screamed from them, calling for more tears that Colton would not let fall.

Another order, more movement, sending him stumbling through the door and past the four people watching around it. He wondered if they were forced there the same way he was forced to move. His eyes wouldn’t focus on anything as he stumbled into what could have been a large utility closet at one point, now adorned with a bare mattress and a rickety wardrobe beside an open door leading to a bare minimum bathroom.

His new home.

Colton’s limbs slumped the moment he was released from his last order, with only enough energy to collapse into the old squeaky bed and rock-hard mattress. His eyes had only just fluttered closed when he heard scurrying around outside the door.

“You’re the one who sold him out. Take care of your friend,” the new voice was muffled by the closed door, but it was clearly not Gabriel’s.

“I didn’t sell him out, Raphael.” Auriel protested.

“You did, now you help him,”

“Gabriel loves ‘im already, though. She’ll be nicer.”

“She’ll talk his ear off; he needs rest,” Raphael sounded exhausted. Colton heard a soft thud and then a heavy sigh just before the door opened.

He could feel his eyes on him, taking in the sad sight that Colton was sure Auriel was seeing. His lanky 5’9 frame barely fits in the bed that not even a hospital would use for problematic patients, half of him still hanging off of him while the rest of him somehow kept him from hitting the floor hard.

He heard shifting, then the door closing; he almost thought he had been left on his own. He almost slipped into a restless sleep that would almost certainly leave him more sore than ready for whatever he was supposed to be doing the next day. Colton doubted he was going to get any mercy after the freezer.

“Are you, uh… Are you conscious?” Not alone yet. Quiet footsteps walked toward him.

Colton groaned in response. He tried to open his eyes, but he wasn’t sure if they were swollen or just heavy.

“A bit worse than the bull, huh?” A cold rag was placed over his neck before Auriel rolled him onto his back, being careful not to touch the freshly placed rings. The cold rag almost felt like heaven, but every touch reminded him of the searing pain he could almost forget as he had lain limp for the few minutes.

If he had the energy, Colton would have shot him a glare for the comment; instead, he just grunted his annoyance.

He was quiet while he worked, cooling down each ring with frozen rags. Auriel’s touch was gentle every time he had to move him, and was immediately followed up with the cooling touch of a rag. He didn’t know how many there were, but he knew he wanted to be buried with them.

For a long while, the only noise in the room was Auriel’s soft cussing as he examined the extent of the wounds, or Colton’s relieved groans as the rag cooled his limb, or his pained hisses as he was maneuvered.

“How does an ice bath sound?” Auriel sounded unsure, or worried; he didn’t care to read into his tone enough to sort out the complication in his tone just yet. Not unless he actually got the ice bath.

He opened his eyes enough to finally look at him. “Are you serious?” he garbled out, his tongue fighting against his use. Auriel chuckled, nodding. “Yes, please.”

Auriel nodded once and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with another woman, tanned with silky straight black hair, who stood a couple of inches shorter than Auriel did, her face reflecting her annoyance clearly.

He pointed to her and told him quietly, “That is Raphael, she’s the one who can get the water to actually work.”

“It’s not that hard, Auriel.” She called from the bathroom.

“It is when you can’t manipulate water.” He called back, quieter to him, “The plumbing here sucks; we can go whole days without anything if Raph is gone off on a mission.”

Colton didn’t have it in him to care yet. He was just curious about how she was going to get the ice if the plumbing was that bad. Auriel got ready to pick him up again as they heard water rush in and stop, waiting until she left the room to bring him into the bathroom, thanking her as they passed by one another.

Auriel moved fast, doing everything he had to for Colton, cutting his dress pants short and gently pulling the legs out from under the cuffs. The fabric rubbed painfully against his charred skin, but once he was in the ice, it didn’t matter anymore.

The cold was relaxing as it eased his pain to the point that Auriel had to pull him up before he slipped below the water’s choppy surface. It was mostly ice, broken up with water that had likely just melted during the wait before he was buried in the broken-up chunks.

He could have slept there; he probably did. His time there had blurred whether it was days or an hour; he couldn’t tell, but the ice had long melted by the time that Auriel pulled him out of the bath.