I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house, That don't bother me

The damp, no, soaked feeling woke Nemean. Not a single strand of fur could be classified as anything less than drenched, though even he had to admit, it was at least warm. It might not have been an awful way to wake up, in the start of a storm, if every fiber of his being didn't ache. Every inch of him felt bruised, and he could feel the tell-tale sting of several fresh wounds; for a moment, he had to collect himself, but realized with surprise that he.... remembered. 

Everything. 

Months it'd been, since he'd woken and yanked himself from the rubble of a landslide (a much worse way to be woken than rain). Months he'd walked, unsure who he was, floating from pack to pack, trying desperately to find someone to love him as much as he loved himself. Someone who would match his loyalty, someone who could make him happy. Someone who appreciated the work he did, someone that would choose him over anything else -- everyone else. 

They never came. 

He remembered his parents, his family -- he hoped wherever the Vale was, they were okay, and Valerie had gone home and told them he was okay. The Nightshade wasn't sure he was anymore, but in some way, he felt free. Odd. He missed Keres, too, but she'd never really cared for him in the same way he'd tried to love her. He wasn't the right man for her, and while he was confident she was now safe, he wouldn't be returning to her side. Plans changed, and she was apparently happier without him, if the Dominion had been enough of a pull to leave him. 

The last thing he remembered was drifting off, Ba'al's teeth in his throat. He could feel the keen sting of the lacerations there and several other places, still sticky with blood but none of his wounds actively still bleeding. The pattering rain smeared the crimson into his silvery throat, and it wasn't without trouble Nemean struggled to sit up to his belly. A yelp left him, and he was reminded of his injured paw, too. The wounds hurt enough, but he didn't think his foot would be mangled or anything once it'd healed -- just decorated with some gnarly scars. The fracture within hurt even more than the injury to his neck, and there was a similar irritated prickle from his cheekbone. The fight had been vicious, and... 

Well now that he thought about it, Nemean had been quite sure he was going to die. He remembered the pair of them fading, bloodloss, probably, more than any one injury they'd sustained to the other. Still, somehow, he'd survived -- and he wasn't in the same thicket he'd been lurking in for weeks, where he'd been waiting to ambush his enemy. Said beast was nowhere in sight, either, and to Nemean, he was only more confident that meant he'd been saved and Ba'al had been beyond it. 

That Nemean had completed his task and rid the world of the monster, and now.... 
Well, now that meant he was free, didn't it? Free to start again, able to forge his own path. He wasn't sure who might've saved him -- there was no scent on him or the area around him, no herbs, no prey, nothing to give him reason to think he'd been cared for. Shit, his wounds were still bloody. Nothing made sense, but Nemean just scowled and pulled himself to his three good legs. He wobbled, growling low under his breath, but managed to stay up. The rain grew harder, lightning splitting the sky ahead and making Nem jump just a little, scowling even harder at the following clap of thunder. 

It was late. There was no familiarity at all with the area around him: an open grassland, as far as he could tell, but a looming shadow in the distance spoke of a nearby forest. He could shelter there for the rest of the night, if he could limp that way. Tucking the injured paw to his chest, Nemean began the slow trek, ears pinned, eyes squinted against the dark. Nothing else seemed to be stirring; most other creatures had probably been smart enough to tuck themselves away somewhere safe and dry for the impending storm, and with the flick of his tail, Nemean wondered why he couldn't have woken up a little sooner. 

At least his wounds were getting rinsed, right? 

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Through the storm he strolled, as at peace with the lightning as with the sunshine. He had been trained to battle in any sort of conditions and knowing his paws were capable enough to handle a sudden shift gave him the confidence he needed to venture out when others might not. A little rain never did him any harm, either, and the lightning allowed him to appreciate the true god: nature. Wild and powerful and brutal, he revered the entity in all its glory. Besides, how neat would it have been to throw lightning around? Pretty fucking neat.

His path was winding as he moved, but it was only when a distant voice yelped that it shifted from its target. Caligula was a curious man, one that oftentimes found himself in pursuit of the unknown simply from boredom. It was such a terribl condition that lead him astray of his path that evening, moving slowly and cautiously as be sneaked upon his goal.

In a flash of lightning, Caligula swore he recognized the face beneath the wounds. A memory scratched at him mercilessly, giving him enough pause to halt in his tracks while he tried to come to terms with the ghost he was seeing. He was.. a ghost, wasn't he? He had to have been. The wolf he reminded him of must have been dead for months by now, but then again, Caligula hadn't a clue if he was still alive himself.

"Nemean?" he whispered hoarsely, gawking at the wounded man as though he had five heads. He may as well have, all things considered, and Caligula wasn't entirely convinced of his sanity in that moment. With Nemean came the remembrance of several others -- of his children left behind, of an unfeeling wretch with poison in her veins. An ashen son, not of his blood, that meant the world to him even behind his own biological children.

A sharp pain radiated through his head and the beast grunted in pain, struggling to stay upright in the storm. "Did Ba'al not kill you?" the ghost demanded, confused as fuuuuck.

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Nemean was glowering so hard at the world around him, he didn't notice another wolf getting nearer. In fairness it was pitch black, pouring down rain, and whatever he could smell was his own blood; but he was lucky his sudden company was of the reasonable sort and not a mindless predator, because shit, a big cat or bear would have vibe checked him six feet under. 

But Nem didn't know who it was, at first. His hackles spiked and the Nightshade froze, turning a chilly gaze upon the pale figure not so far away -- close enough, in fact, that he heard his own name uttered, that he saw the confusion on the other mans face. Wait....

He did know this guy, didn't he? It was hard to forget someone with such solidly white fur and a plethora of scars like that, missing one eye. He'd popped in and out of Nemean's life a few times now, never for long, but he'd never wronged the blue beast. He hadn't belonged in the Vale and hadn't given a goodbye, but, well, Nemean didn't much care -- you didn't force someone to stay somewhere they weren't right for. 
Still, seeing Caligula made him wonder if he was wrong -- if he was just so fucked up he was hallucinating, that he'd managed to wander back to the Dominion in some haze after he thought he passed out. Maybe Caligula was part of the hallucination too? He couldn't smell the man, but that was likely just the rain if he was real. 

Nemean's pelt slicked back down as quickly as it'd threatened to fully rise, and a huff left his lips. 

"Nobody believed me when I said I'd fucking kill that monster," he hissed, though he was so drained even the fiery words held little bite, "But I did. I handled the problem, but you were right all along. I gave her the world, and she chose the Dominion anyway. I killed him when her precious Faustus couldn't, but y'see where that got me?"

Very nearly dead. He didn't regret that much, nor did he regret doing anything he had. He simply wished he'd been enough, and the memories were so fresh it felt like it'd all happened yesterday: his walk on the beach with this pale man, returning back to the stink of the very man he and Keres had saved the life of and everyone pissy for one reason or another. 
The anger bubbled in his throat, but it wasn't Caligula he was mad at. 

"Nobody ever fucking believed in me."

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Well, this was.. an unexpected turn of events.

Caligula's brain was barely able to process what was happening on his good days, let alone now in the midst of a thunderstorm while a ghost from his past came to haunt him. Or.. would haunt even be the right word? He hadn't done anything to the kid outside of try and convince him that Keres hadn't been worth his time, and though he hadn't a clue where the meek girl had scampered off to in the aftermath of everything, he doubted she was doing well. She clearly hadn't met back up with Nemean, but.. they had all thought he was dead. Caligula still wasn't entirely sure that the kid wasn't dead, actually, or that this wasn't all just some fucked up nightmare. Still, he didn't think himself creative enough to have conjured up all of.. this nonsense, particularly Nemean.

His tattered ear flicked as the rain pelted him, but now he paid the weather any mind. Instead, he listened as the boy ranted and raved.. and somewhere deep within the confines of his steely heart, Caligula felt sympathy. He knew what it was to not be enough for a woman, and though he refused to let his thoughts wander to the wretched woman he'd left behind, the sentiment remained. Caligula understood. "I'm sorry, kid," he said with a sigh. "I wish I could say something to make it better, but truth be told, you were too good for her. Still are." And he was too good for the woman in his past, but that was neither here nor there. "Let's get you somewhere warm and patched up?" With as much venom as Nemean was spitting, Caligula didn't budge an inch towards him. He didn't need his other ear ripped off, thank you very much.

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There was nothing, no word or person that could have made Nemean better. Only time and his own resilience would eventually have him pulling through, and while he was doubtless the time would come when he could push these events to the back of his mind, he also knew it'd be a long time. After so long of not remembering anything, you'd think one might be happy to recall the past.
Nemean wasn't. He'd been happy, when his mind was blank and all he had were his wits and Keres. Life had been good, despite always feeling like they were running from something. 
She had been, he supposed, but she'd never been able to decide what she really wanted. Wherever she ended up, he hoped she was happy. Some selfish part of him hope she worried about him, but she probably just wrote him off as dead like everyone else apparently had and moved on to some bigger, stronger man that could protect her the way she thought proper. 

Caligula apologized, and Nem just shrugged. The pale man knew he couldn't have helped, and so did the blue. The anger sizzled under the surface, bit without a target, it fizzled into plain, painful disappointment. He wasn't good enough, and there wasn't a reason for it -- he simply wasn't. 
Nem sighed a little, knowing that yes, he was too good for her, but that didn't stop his heart aching at the thought of her pretty blue eyes and tawny markings. 

He did, however, wrinkle the bridge of his nose as the mention of somewhere warm was brought up. Shelter and someone to patch him up would be great, and no, there was nothing recognizable around here, but..... well, Nemean hadn't lived this long not being at least a little cautious. He was in no shape to fight and quite frankly, didn't even want to go wherever Cali might've wanted to take him. He didn't want to interact with others, and after such a terrible time with wolves who thought they were better than him, stronger, smarter -- he didn't much care for the thought of being with a pack, either.

"Where even are we? I know you aren't dumb enough to take me back to the Dominion, because they'd literally kill me."

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Caligula remembered the boy to be a bit more charming, but perhaps his memory was failing him. That, or his fight with Ba'al had fractured something so deep inside of him that he was reborn a monster of Nightshade. He wondered how Piper would take to the new Nemean, how she would react to knowing Caligula of all wolves was offering to take him in. There was no rhyme or reason behind the sympathy for Nemean, only that he recognized the boy would die without assistance and Piper could pop up within moments. Would any others from his past show up? God, he hoped not -- save for one or two.

At the mention of the Dominion, Caligula shook his head. "The Dominion has fallen. Faustus gave me control of it, and after the final Crane in my life turned sour and threatened to murder me, I killed it. I killed the Dominion, and I have no regrets. The Cranes do nothing but abandon, their loyalty is fickle. They are gone now." There was some enthusiasm behind his words, almost excitement at the knowledge he would never be subjected to another dark-furred Crane fucking him over. It was enough to make the man blush.

"But no, not the Dominion," he murmured. "The man I have joined with is a wicked bastard. The options are to go there, or I can set you up somewhere around here and come tend to your wounds daily. I'm not the best, but I should be able to keep you alive. There's some healer back at the pack, but I imagine he would want something in exchange for letting her work on you." What a fun group he was part of.

"There's at the very least a little alcove this way where you can get out of the rain." The ghost turned, casting his attention back across his shoulder to see if Nemean would need assistance in getting up.

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Poor Caligula didn't realize he had it backwards. Nemean had been more charming, before -- and he still was, but the landslide had made him... well, less Nightshade. More tolerant, more willing to compromise. Without eventually brain trauma, he was back to the same cranky beast he'd been born. A dangerous animal with a barbed wire fence around him, closed off and worried more for himself than anyone else. There was guilt, choosing not to go back to the Vale, but he reasoned he didn't even know where he was! 

The Nightshade listened as Caligula spoke: Faustus had handed the reigns to him, apparently, but he'd ended it. The Dominion was no more, and apparently enough of Damascus' family had wronged him so harshly he was done with the bloodline. Nem didn't know enough Crane's, thankfully, to give judgement, but he'd been wary of Faustus from the start, seeing how he sat back and let Keres get kicked from the pack the first time. If there was ever a man standing up for a woman to get his dick wet, it'd never been Nemean. 

Perhaps it should be. A Nemean who only wanted to fulfil his own desires, a man without a leader, without a tether. So far he hadn't found anyone worthy of his loyalty, nobody to love and love him back. So far nobody deserved his company, and while Caligula's name was in a good light, Nemean told himself that he, too, had sat back and glared at the same shitty asshole that'd stolen Keres from Nemean in the first place. No fault, perhaps, but he hadn't helped in the face of it all. 

Or was Nemean just being bitter? The little thought was squashed before it took off, but the brute flashed a grin. 

"Good."

The Dominion was gone and dead, and perhaps neither of them would ever fall into the sights of another Crane. 

Unfortunately, the master Caligula chose to follow this time around was described as wicked, and would likely demand a price for anything Nemean took. The blue man's features creased as he lurched gently into a slow gait; steady, but a little slow as he limped along on three legs after the ghost. His dark coat had always made ambush hunting easier, but keeping his wounds clean alone was impossible. Unfortunately, that meant letting someone tend to his throat, but.... well, he had faith that Caligula wouldn't slaughter him after all this, not without reason or warning.  The idea of following him anywhere knowing there would be a price later.... well, if there had ever been a chance, it was gone with the breeze.

"I'd appreciate your help," he rumbled, "As long as you don't plan on holding it over my head, too. I told you once and I'll tell you again, I'll never follow another Dominus. Call them what you want, but it's still just another man that'll try to own me and use me for his own plans."

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Good may not have been the appropriate term for the fall of the Dominion, truly, but a simple shrug was all he showed to indicate any kind of opinion on the matter. Caligula wasn't sure why his former mate had held her cousin in such high regard; as far as leaders went, Damascus had been much more capable. At the very least, he had been able to not lust over every single woman that came too close. A virgin was one thing, but Faustus had been.. on another level. It was all he could do not to punch the dark wolf, but Keres had been the fool to keep coming back. Caligula didn't have hope for that girl, wherever she was, but at least Nemean had gotten freed from her clutches. If there was anything good to be said for the day, it was that. New beginnings and all that.

Nemean's answer didn't surprise him. The kid wasn't fond of authority and while Caligula didn't blame him, it was almost entirely what the ghost knew. It was comforting and familiar, and so he took no offense when Nemean glowered about a dominus.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but what could I possibly want from you?" the man asked with a wry grin, hopeful Nemean wasn't too angry to banter. Caligula liked banter. "Just stay alive, that's all I want from you." And why he even wanted that, Caligula didn't know. Maybe some long lost wish that he had been good enough for Piper, the thought that Nemean could have been his kid once upon a time. Whatever the reason, it stuck.

"I'll help you out, c'mon, I don't need your mother showing up next and yelling at me for letting you die."

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Nemean snorted. He wasn't without a sense of humor, and though Caligula had hit the point right on the head, the Nightshade could indeed give some good-natured sass. That, at least, was something that had remained the same all his life. Falling back to sarcasm and jabbing fun was what he knew, and if that didn't work.... well, he'd been okay by himself. He'd never been alone long, but he told himself it was time to suck it up. He didn't need company, and he didn't need to be hurt again. 

Just stay alive.

"Trying my damn best out here. Don't have anything I could owe anyone," he tossed back with the roll of his eyes, especially as Cali mentioned his mother coming. The man wilted just a little bit, tongue flicking around his lips. He'd wished for a while that Piper would've come upon him, but remembering what he did now, that was as unlikely as him figuring out how to even go back to where he'd last seen Valerie. 

The whole was more important than the one. Piper would care for the Family and would be the perfect Alta Donna she'd always been -- and Nemean didn't fault her for that, as much as it hurt. He wanted her to take care of Soliel, he wanted her to take care of the siblings she and Meir had both been pregnant with when he'd gotten separated from them. He wanted her to be happy, and he wanted Freyar to take care of all of them too. That was the point of the Family.

"Don't worry, she'd never leave the Vale."

Nemean was quiet for a moment as he limped along through the storm, his dual gaze tracing the shadows of the forest ahead. He didn't want Caligula getting the idea he'd be staying, but he didn't want the man to think him ungrateful. He didn't want to burn quite possibly the only friendly face he had in this unknown place, but Nemean didn't want to hang around the borders of a pack and provoke the man who'd expect something in return. 

"You'll have to show me where you live when I'm a little better," he grunted, "So I don't have to guess and search when I come back to visit."

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