After the Firelight

 

A WayHaught Story (Characters from Wynonna Earp TV Series) Waverly Earp and Nicole Haught

 

Purgatory had never really believed in peace.

Not the lasting kind.

It did believe in pauses, though — in the held breath between lightning strikes. In the heavy stillness before something crawled out of the dark.

Waverly Earp stood on the porch of the homestead at dusk, bare feet on old wood, a beer sweating in her hand she’d barely touched. The prairie rolled out in waves of gold and shadow. The wind hummed low across the grass.

Behind her, inside the house, she could hear Nicole moving around in the kitchen — cabinet doors closing, the quiet clink of dishes, the radio playing something country and soft.

Domestic.

Normal.

Almost suspiciously so.

Two years married.

Two years since the Garden.
Two years since angels and demons and inherited curses.
Two years since she’d nearly lost everything.

She rested her forearms on the porch railing and exhaled slowly.

“You look like you’re waiting for something to explode.”

Waverly didn’t turn. She just smiled.

“I’m not.”

Nicole stepped up behind her, warm and solid, sliding an arm around Waverly’s waist. She rested her chin on Waverly’s shoulder. The scent of dish soap and leather and that clean, crisp Nicole-ness wrapped around her.

“Mm,” Nicole murmured. “Your brooding face says otherwise.”

“I do not have a brooding face.”

“You absolutely have a brooding face.”

Waverly turned slightly, mock offended. “I brood adorably.”

Nicole grinned. “You brood like you’re about to either solve an ancient prophecy or reorganize the pantry alphabetically.”

“That was one time.”

“It was several times.”

Waverly laughed softly — but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Nicole noticed.

She always noticed.

Nicole shifted so she was facing her fully now, hands sliding to Waverly’s hips. “Okay,” she said gently. “What’s going on?”

The wind picked up, brushing Waverly’s hair back from her face.

“It’s just…” she hesitated. “It’s quiet.”

Nicole glanced toward the horizon. “Yeah. That’s usually what happens when nothing is actively trying to murder us.”

“That’s my point,” Waverly said softly.

Nicole’s thumbs brushed slow circles at her hips. “You think something’s coming.”

“I don’t know.” Waverly swallowed. “I just — every time things get peaceful, it feels like we’re borrowing it.”

Nicole studied her wife’s face — the crease between her brows, the way her jaw tightened when she tried not to worry out loud.

Two years married.

Two years of learning how to read every flicker in Waverly’s expression.

Nicole leaned forward and kissed her. Slow. Warm. Not urgent — grounding.

Waverly melted into it instantly.

Nicole felt the tension in her soften, if only a little.

When they broke apart, Nicole rested her forehead against Waverly’s.

“Listen to me,” Nicole murmured. “If something comes, we handle it. Like we always do.”

“You with a shotgun.”

“You with ancient knowledge and terrifying celestial glow powers.”

Waverly snorted softly. “I don’t glow anymore.”

“Debatable.”

Waverly’s fingers curled into Nicole’s shirt.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she whispered.

Nicole’s expression shifted — softer now. Deeper.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t shouted.

It was a promise.

They stood there for a long moment — wind, prairie, fading light.

And then—

Nicole’s phone buzzed.

They both froze.

Nicole didn’t move immediately. Just sighed.

“See?” Waverly murmured.

Nicole pulled the phone from her back pocket and glanced at the screen.

Her jaw tightened.

“What is it?” Waverly asked.

Nicole didn’t answer right away.

“Nicole.”

“It’s Rachel.”

Waverly blinked. “Rachel’s at Maggie’s aunt’s place until next week.”

“I know.”

Nicole answered.

“Rachel? Hey. What’s up?”

There was a pause.

Nicole’s face changed.

All the softness drained away.

Waverly felt it instantly — like a temperature drop.

Nicole’s voice sharpened. “Slow down. Start again.”

Silence.

Then Nicole’s grip tightened around the phone.

“Rachel, listen to me carefully. Are you safe right now?”

Another pause.

Waverly’s stomach dropped.

Nicole met her eyes.

And whatever she saw on her wife’s face made her blood run cold.

“We’re coming,” Nicole said.

She ended the call.

“What happened?” Waverly asked.

Nicole didn’t soften it.

“She said something’s outside the house.”

The wind seemed to stop.

“Like… an animal?” Waverly asked carefully.

Nicole shook her head.

“She said it’s been watching her.”

A beat.

“She said it has eyes that shine like glass.”

Waverly felt that old, familiar chill crawl down her spine.

The quiet between storms.

Over.

Nicole was already moving — grabbing her jacket, her keys, her sidearm.

Waverly stepped inside, pulse pounding, mind racing through every creature, every curse, every thing that ever hunted in the dark around Purgatory.

She grabbed her jacket too.

As Nicole reached the door, Waverly caught her wrist.

Nicole turned.

For just a second, the sheriff mask dropped.

Fear flickered there.

Not for herself.

For Rachel.

For Waverly.

Waverly pulled her close and kissed her again — deeper this time. Urgent. A reminder of what they had.

Nicole’s hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling briefly in her hair.

Then they separated.

“Let’s go,” Nicole said.

The prairie stretched ahead of them, shadows thickening into night.

And somewhere in the dark —

Something was watching.

The drive felt longer than it should have.

Nicole drove fast but steady, jaw tight, eyes locked on the dark ribbon of highway cutting through prairie shadow. The truck headlights carved tunnels through the night. Every stretch of grass looked like something waiting to move.

Waverly sat rigid in the passenger seat, phone in her hand.

“Rachel,” she said gently, trying to keep her voice even. “Stay upstairs. Lock the door. Put something heavy in front of it if you can.”

Rachel’s voice trembled on the other end. “It’s still there.”

“Where?”

“By the treeline.”

Nicole’s grip tightened on the steering wheel.

“Is it moving?” Waverly asked.

“No. It just… stands there.”

A chill crept under Waverly’s skin.

“Can you see it clearly?”

Another pause.

“I think so.”

“Describe it.”

Rachel inhaled shakily. “It’s tall. Too tall. And thin. Like it doesn’t bend right.”

Nicole muttered under her breath.

Waverly’s mind began flipping through pages of lore — revenants, hollow men, prairie spirits, watchers bound to land.

“What about the eyes?” Waverly asked.

“They’re not glowing. They’re just… reflective. Like glass.”

Nicole’s stomach dropped.

Glass eyes.

She knew that description.

Waverly must have felt it too, because she turned slowly toward Nicole.

Nicole gave a barely perceptible nod.

Black Badge.

But Black Badge had been dismantled.

Or so they’d been told.

“Rachel,” Nicole said, voice steady but sharp. “Listen to me carefully. If it comes toward the house, you call 911 and you stay on the line. We’re five minutes out.”

“Okay.”

The call ended.

The silence in the truck was heavy.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking,” Waverly said quietly.

Nicole didn’t take her eyes off the road. “If someone’s running experiments again—”

“Why Rachel?”

Nicole’s jaw flexed.

Rachel had already lost so much.

They both had.

The house came into view.

Lights on upstairs.

Front porch empty.

Nicole didn’t slow down — she pulled straight into the driveway and was out of the truck before the engine finished cutting.

Waverly followed.

The air felt wrong.

Still.

Thick.

Nicole scanned the treeline immediately, hand hovering near her weapon.

Nothing.

“Rachel!” Nicole called.

Upstairs window.

Movement.

Rachel’s face appeared.

“It’s gone!”

Nicole didn’t relax.

She motioned for Waverly to stay back and moved toward the trees slowly.

“Nicole,” Waverly warned softly.

Nicole crouched, scanning the ground.

There.

Footprints.

But wrong.

Too long.

Too narrow.

As if something had pressed into the earth without full weight.

“Waverly,” she called quietly.

Waverly joined her.

She knelt, brushing her fingers lightly near the mark — not touching it fully.

Her eyes flickered — not glowing, not fully angelic — but something ancient passing through her expression.

“It’s not a demon,” she whispered.

Nicole exhaled slightly.

“But it’s not human either.”

Before Nicole could respond—

A branch snapped behind them.

They both turned instantly.

And it was there.

At the edge of the trees.

Tall.

Unnaturally so.

Limbs too long.

Head slightly tilted.

Watching them.

Its eyes caught the porch light.

Reflective.

Glass-like.

Waverly’s breath caught.

Nicole drew her weapon in one smooth motion.

“Purgatory Sheriff’s Department!” she barked. “Step forward and identify yourself!”

The thing didn’t move.

Then—

Its head tilted further.

A jerking motion.

Like it wasn’t used to the angle.

Waverly’s heart hammered.

“It’s studying us,” she whispered.

Nicole’s finger tightened on the trigger.

“Nicole,” Waverly said sharply. “Wait.”

The creature shifted one foot forward.

Too fluid.

Not mechanical.

But not entirely natural.

Waverly stepped slightly in front of Nicole without thinking.

Nicole grabbed her arm instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s not attacking.”

“Yet.”

The creature’s gaze locked onto Waverly.

And something changed.

A subtle tremor.

Recognition.

Waverly felt it.

Like a thread tightening.

Then—

It moved.

Not toward them.

Around them.

Faster than it should have been able to.

Nicole spun, tracking it.

But it was already gone.

The woods swallowed it.

Silence.

Nicole kept the gun raised several more seconds before lowering it slowly.

“Okay,” she said under her breath. “I officially hate that.”

Waverly swallowed hard.

“That wasn’t random.”

“No.”

“It knew me.”

Nicole turned toward her.

“What do you mean it knew you?”

Waverly shook her head slightly. “When it looked at me — it was like… like it was confirming something.”

Nicole stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“Waverly.”

She didn’t use the joking tone now.

This was serious.

“Is this angel stuff?”

“I don’t know,” Waverly admitted.

The porch light flicked behind them.

Rachel’s silhouette in the window.

Nicole holstered her weapon and turned toward the house.

“We’re not doing this outside.”

Inside, Rachel rushed down the stairs and straight into Nicole’s arms.

Nicole wrapped her up tight.

“You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re okay.”

Waverly watched them.

The fierce protectiveness in Nicole’s face.

The way Rachel clung to her.

Family.

Chosen and earned.

Rachel pulled back. “What was that thing?”

Nicole glanced at Waverly.

Waverly gave her a small nod.

“Something we’re going to figure out,” Nicole said firmly.

“And stop.”

Later, after Rachel was settled in the guest room downstairs — firmly refusing to sleep upstairs — Nicole and Waverly stood alone in the kitchen.

The tension between them buzzed.

“You stepped in front of me,” Nicole said quietly.

Waverly leaned back against the counter. “It wasn’t attacking.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It didn’t feel hostile.”

Nicole moved closer.

“It was circling us like prey.”

Waverly’s voice softened. “Or like it was looking for something.”

Nicole stepped into her space fully now.

“Waverly Earp,” she said low. “You do not get to be bait.”

A flicker of heat passed between them.

Waverly tilted her head slightly.

“You married me.”

“Yeah,” Nicole replied. “Because I love you. Not because I want to watch you walk toward nightmare creatures.”

Waverly’s hands slid slowly up Nicole’s jacket.

“You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

Nicole’s breath shifted.

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

The air between them thickened.

Adrenaline still in their veins.

Fear not yet settled.

Waverly’s voice dropped softer.

“You felt it too.”

Nicole hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“That thing wasn’t there for Rachel.”

Nicole swallowed.

“It was there for you.”

Silence.

The weight of it hung between them.

Waverly reached up and brushed her thumb along Nicole’s jaw.

“You’re shaking.”

Nicole exhaled.

“Because when it looked at you, I had this flash — this split second — where I thought I was about to lose you.”

Waverly’s expression changed.

The teasing gone.

She stepped closer and pressed herself against Nicole, arms wrapping tight around her waist.

“You’re not losing me.”

Nicole buried her face briefly in Waverly’s hair.

“You don’t know that.”

Waverly pulled back just enough to look at her.

“Hey.”

Nicole met her eyes.

“You and me?” Waverly whispered. “We’ve survived angels, demons, curses, possession, alternate timelines, and your mustache phase.”

“That was one week.”

“It was a long week.”

Nicole huffed out a reluctant laugh.

Then Waverly kissed her.

Slow.

Deep.

Not playful now.

Grounding.

Nicole responded instantly, hands sliding to Waverly’s waist, pulling her closer like she needed the proof.

Alive.

Here.

Safe.

For now.

When they broke apart, foreheads touching, Nicole whispered:

“If something is hunting you…”

Waverly finished it softly.

“Then we hunt back.”

Outside, the prairie wind rose again.

And somewhere beyond the treeline —

Glass eyes opened.

The next morning didn’t feel like morning.

It felt like aftermath.

The prairie was too bright. Too normal. Birds chirped like nothing had happened. The sky stretched clear and blue over land that had swallowed something unnatural only hours before.

Nicole stood outside the treeline again, crouched near the distorted footprints. Coffee in one hand. Sheriff’s badge clipped to her belt. Sidearm holstered but not forgotten.

She hadn’t slept.

Behind her, Waverly leaned against the truck, arms crossed, watching Nicole with that thoughtful, dangerous focus she got when she was solving something.

Rachel was inside the house with a locked door and strict instructions not to leave.

“You’re wearing a hole in the ground,” Waverly called lightly.

Nicole didn’t smile. “These prints are shallow.”

“That’s what you said last night.”

“No, I mean — they’re shallow in a wrong way. Like it wasn’t fully… here.”

Waverly stepped closer.

“Like a projection?”

Nicole glanced up at her.

“Or like something that doesn’t fully belong in our plane,” Waverly continued, thinking aloud.

Nicole straightened. “You’re getting that tone.”

“What tone?”

“The ancient-librarian-angel tone.”

Waverly huffed. “I do not have that.”

“You absolutely do.”

She did.

But there was something else under it.

Unease.

Waverly crouched near the print and closed her eyes briefly.

Nicole stiffened. “Waverly—”

“I’m not glowing,” she muttered.

But her fingers hovered just above the earth.

The air shifted.

Subtle.

Like heat rippling.

Nicole felt the hairs rise along her arms.

Then Waverly’s eyes snapped open.

“It’s tethered.”

Nicole blinked. “Tethered to what?”

“To something here. Or someone.”

Nicole didn’t hesitate.

“You.”

Waverly didn’t argue.

“That thing recognized me,” she said quietly. “And when it circled us… it wasn’t deciding whether to attack.”

“It was assessing,” Nicole finished.

Waverly nodded.

Silence stretched between them.

The wind moved through the grass, whispering.

Nicole stepped closer. “Talk to me.”

Waverly swallowed. “When I was in the Garden… when I was fully connected to that other side — not human, not entirely angel — there were things that could sense it. Things that feed on celestial energy.”

Nicole’s stomach tightened.

“Feed how?”

Waverly hesitated.

Nicole’s voice dropped. “Waverly.”

“It’s not like it eats people,” she said quickly. “It consumes power. Drains it.”

Nicole’s eyes darkened. “Drains it from you.”

“Yes.”

The word hung there.

Nicole stepped even closer, lowering her voice.

“Is that what this is?”

“I don’t know,” Waverly admitted. “But it felt drawn. Like a moth.”

Nicole’s jaw clenched.

“Then we don’t let it get close.”

Waverly’s expression shifted — stubborn.

“That might not be an option.”

Nicole’s eyes flashed. “It is absolutely an option.”

“If it’s tethered to me, Nicole, it’s going to keep coming.”

Nicole stepped into her space fully now.

“Then it keeps coming to me first.”

Waverly’s breath caught.

“Nicole—”

“No.” Her voice was firm, steel beneath it. “You don’t get to decide to be the sacrifice.”

“I’m not sacrificing anything.”

“You stepped in front of my gun last night.”

Waverly didn’t deny it.

Because she had.

Nicole’s hands came up, gripping Waverly’s arms — not rough, but solid.

“You don’t get to do that.”

Waverly’s voice softened. “I wasn’t afraid.”

“I was.”

That landed.

Hard.

The wind shifted again — colder this time.

And then—

Nicole felt it first.

The subtle pressure in the air.

Like static before lightning.

She turned sharply.

The treeline darkened.

Not with shadow.

With movement.

The creature stepped out in daylight.

Clearer now.

Its skin wasn’t skin — it shimmered faintly, like something just out of sync. Its limbs bent slightly wrong at the joints.

And its eyes—

Clear.

Reflective.

Unblinking.

Nicole drew her weapon instantly.

Waverly didn’t move.

The creature’s gaze locked onto her.

It stepped forward.

Nicole fired.

The bullet passed through it.

Not even a flinch.

“Okay,” Nicole muttered. “I officially hate that more.”

The creature moved faster now.

Not running.

Gliding.

Closing distance.

Nicole stepped in front of Waverly this time.

Gun useless.

Hand reaching back to push her behind.

But the creature didn’t strike.

It stopped three feet away.

Head tilting again.

Studying.

Waverly felt something pull at her — not physical.

Energetic.

Like a thread hooking into her chest.

She gasped.

Nicole turned instantly.

“Waverly?”

The creature’s eyes brightened faintly.

Waverly’s knees buckled.

Nicole caught her before she hit the ground.

“Hey. Hey!”

Waverly clutched at Nicole’s jacket.

“It’s pulling—”

Nicole looked up.

Rage flared.

“Back off!”

She grabbed the shotgun from the truck and fired point-blank.

The blast didn’t wound it—

But it disrupted something.

The shimmer flickered.

The pull on Waverly snapped.

The creature staggered slightly — unstable.

Nicole fired again.

And this time—

The thing fractured.

Not bleeding.

Shattering.

Like glass.

Its form splintered into light fragments that scattered into the air and vanished.

Silence.

Waverly sagged against Nicole’s chest.

Nicole dropped the shotgun and held her tightly.

“You with me?”

Waverly nodded weakly.

“It was draining,” she whispered.

Nicole’s hands trembled slightly as she brushed hair back from Waverly’s face.

“How much?”

“I don’t know.”

Nicole didn’t like that answer.

At all.

She helped Waverly to her feet.

“Inside. Now.”

Hours later.

Rachel was sent to a friend’s house in town under the excuse of “small-town drama.”

Waverly sat on the couch, pale but steady.

Nicole paced.

“I hit it with a shotgun.”

“I noticed.”

“It reacted.”

“Barely.”

Nicole stopped pacing and faced her.

“That thing wasn’t solid.”

“No.”

“And it wasn’t fully here.”

“No.”

“So how do we kill something that isn’t fully here?”

Waverly met her eyes.

“We don’t.”

Nicole’s stomach dropped.

“We anchor it.”

Nicole blinked. “Meaning?”

“If it’s tethered to me, we force it to fully manifest.”

“And then?”

“Then it’s vulnerable.”

Nicole didn’t like where this was going.

“Define force.”

Waverly hesitated.

Nicole’s expression hardened.

“Waverly.”

“It feeds on celestial energy,” she said carefully. “So we give it a surge.”

Nicole went very still.

“You’re not serious.”

“It almost fully manifested when it started draining me.”

“And you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s the only idea.”

Nicole stepped forward.

“No.”

“Nicole—”

“No.”

Waverly stood slowly.

“I can control it.”

“That’s what everyone says before things go sideways.”

Waverly’s voice sharpened. “I am not fragile.”

“I know that.”

“Then trust me.”

Nicole closed the distance between them.

“I trust you with my life.”

Waverly’s breath hitched.

“That’s not the same as letting you gamble it.”

Silence.

Thick.

Charged.

Waverly stepped closer.

“If we don’t end this, it will keep coming. It won’t stop.”

Nicole’s jaw flexed.

“I can’t watch something drain you again.”

Waverly’s voice softened.

“You won’t.”

Nicole looked at her — really looked at her.

The woman who had walked through fire and heaven and back.

Who had chosen her.

Who had said vows under a sky that had nearly taken everything from them.

Nicole’s hands came up slowly, cupping Waverly’s face.

“If this goes wrong—”

“It won’t.”

“If this goes wrong,” Nicole repeated, firm, “I will burn this town down to get you back.”

Waverly smiled faintly.

“That’s very sheriff of you.”

Nicole leaned down and kissed her.

Not gentle.

Not playful.

Desperate.

Waverly kissed back just as fiercely.

Hands gripping.

Breathing uneven.

Fear braided with love.

When they pulled apart, Nicole rested her forehead against hers.

“Tonight,” she said quietly. “We end it.”

Outside, the sun dipped low again.

And in the fading light—

Something waited to feed.

Night fell heavy.

Not soft like it usually did over the prairie.

Heavy. Waiting.

The wind had gone still again — that unnatural quiet pressing in from all sides. Even the insects seemed to know better than to sing.

Nicole checked the shotgun one more time.

Then the handgun.

Then the extra shells.

Then the iron knife Wynonna had once sworn would “stab at least half the supernatural nonsense in North America.”

Waverly stood in the center of the yard.

Calm.

Too calm.

Nicole hated that calm.

“You don’t have to stand that far out,” Nicole called.

“I do,” Waverly answered gently. “It needs space.”

Nicole’s jaw tightened.

Floodlights from the truck cast long shadows across the grass. The treeline loomed dark in the distance.

Waverly closed her eyes.

Nicole watched every breath she took.

“You start glowing,” Nicole said firmly, “I’m intervening.”

Waverly smiled faintly without opening her eyes. “Noted.”

She exhaled slowly.

And let go.

Nicole felt it instantly.

The air changed.

Pressure building — not violent, but powerful. Like a current shifting beneath the earth.

Waverly’s posture straightened.

Her hands opened slightly at her sides.

Not wings.

Not blinding light.

But something ancient rolled off her — subtle and radiant.

The wind returned.

Sharp.

Cold.

The treeline moved.

Nicole lifted the shotgun.

“It’s coming,” she murmured.

The creature stepped forward.

Fully visible now.

Taller than before.

More defined.

Its body less shimmer, more shape.

The glass eyes fixed on Waverly immediately.

Hungry.

Nicole moved two steps closer to Waverly’s side.

“I’m here,” she said quietly.

Waverly nodded once.

The creature approached slowly.

Drawn in.

Each step it took seemed heavier now — more anchored.

Its limbs bent more naturally.

Its presence thickened.

“It’s working,” Waverly whispered.

Nicole’s pulse pounded.

“Yeah. I hate that it’s working.”

The creature stopped ten feet away.

The air between them vibrated.

Then—

It lunged.

Not at Nicole.

At Waverly.

Nicole fired.

The blast hit center mass.

This time—

Impact.

The creature staggered.

Solid.

“Again!” Waverly shouted.

Nicole pumped and fired.

The thing shrieked — a high, fractured sound like glass grinding against stone.

But it didn’t fall.

Instead—

It grabbed Waverly.

Its hand wrapped around her throat.

Nicole’s world went red.

She dropped the shotgun and sprinted.

“Get OFF her!”

The creature lifted Waverly off the ground.

Waverly’s hands flew to its wrist — not choking, not suffocating —

Draining.

Nicole saw the faint light pulling from Waverly’s skin into the creature.

“No,” Nicole breathed.

She reached them and drove the iron knife straight into its side.

The creature convulsed.

Its grip faltered.

Waverly dropped hard to her knees.

Nicole yanked the blade free and stabbed again.

And again.

The creature howled.

Cracks splintered across its body.

But it turned.

And struck Nicole.

The force sent her backward into the dirt.

The breath slammed out of her lungs.

Her vision blurred.

She tasted blood.

And then—

She saw it standing over Waverly again.

Reaching.

Nicole forced air back into her lungs.

Forced her body up.

“You want power?” she roared.

The creature turned toward her.

Nicole grabbed the shotgun from the ground and charged.

She didn’t fire.

She slammed into it.

Tackled it.

Drove it down.

The impact shook the yard.

She jammed the barrel under its chin and fired.

At point blank range.

The blast exploded through its skull.

Light fractured outward.

The creature screamed.

Waverly, still on her knees, lifted her hand.

And let the rest of her power surge.

Not uncontrolled.

Not chaotic.

Focused.

Blinding white light erupted from her palm and struck the creature square in the chest.

The tether snapped.

The creature shattered.

Not into shards this time.

Into ash.

The wind caught it.

And carried it away.

Silence.

Nicole lay flat on her back.

Chest heaving.

The sky above her calm and indifferent.

Waverly crawled to her.

“Nicole.”

Nicole blinked up at her.

“You okay?” she rasped.

Waverly’s eyes were wet.

“You tackled an interdimensional predator.”

Nicole winced slightly. “Felt rude not to.”

Waverly laughed through a shaky breath.

Then her hands moved — checking Nicole’s face, her ribs, her shoulder where she’d hit the ground.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Yeah?”

“Forehead.”

Nicole smirked faintly. “Chicks dig scars.”

Waverly leaned down and kissed her.

Hard.

Desperate.

Relieved.

Nicole’s hand came up instantly, gripping the back of Waverly’s neck like she needed proof she was still real.

Still here.

Still hers.

They broke apart only when breathing demanded it.

Nicole searched her face.

“How much did it take?”

Waverly paused.

“Not enough to matter.”

Nicole studied her carefully.

“You’d tell me.”

“Yes.”

A beat.

Then softer—

“It hurt more when you got hit.”

Nicole’s expression shifted.

She reached up and cupped Waverly’s face.

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“You tackled it.”

“Because it touched you.”

The words landed heavy and honest.

Waverly swallowed.

“You always jump in front of danger.”

Nicole’s thumb brushed gently over Waverly’s jaw.

“And you always walk toward it.”

They held each other’s gaze.

The floodlights hummed softly behind them.

The prairie breathed again.

Alive.

Safe.

For now.

Nicole sat up slowly, pulling Waverly into her lap despite the protest in her ribs.

Waverly curled against her without hesitation.

“I thought,” Nicole began quietly, “for one second… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Waverly pressed her forehead to Nicole’s.

“You’re not losing me.”

Nicole’s voice dropped.

“I can’t do this world without you.”

Waverly’s fingers tightened in her jacket.

“You won’t have to.”

A long silence.

Not tense.

Not waiting.

Just real.

Finally, Nicole leaned back slightly and studied her.

“You know what I realized tonight?”

“What?”

“I’m not afraid of the monsters anymore.”

Waverly blinked. “You’re not?”

“No.” Nicole’s voice steadied. “Because whatever comes — we face it together.”

Waverly smiled softly.

“Very marriage of you.”

Nicole grinned faintly. “Yeah. Well. Sheriff’s got a wife to protect.”

“Wife protects back.”

“Obviously.”

They stood slowly.

Exhausted.

Bruised.

Victorious.

Nicole slipped an arm around Waverly’s waist as they walked toward the house.

The porch light glowed warm.

Home.

Halfway there, Waverly paused.

Nicole looked at her.

“What?”

Waverly studied the treeline.

Then shook her head gently.

“Nothing.”

Nicole followed her gaze.

The woods were still.

Empty.

But the quiet no longer felt borrowed.

It felt earned.

Nicole squeezed her hand.

“Come on.”

They stepped onto the porch together.

Inside.

Door closing behind them.

Lock sliding into place.

And outside—

The prairie wind carried only dust.

Not glass.

Not hunger.

Just the quiet after the storm.

 

The End