'I see you've been busy,' Clockwork noted, gingerly kicking the corpse with her boots. 'Thought you would've stayed on the straight and narrow since you're human and all.'

Jack glared at the body. 'Honestly? I did too. He had it coming, though.'

'Was he a threat to your dearly beloved?' Clockwork cooed, 'was he going to say "hello" to them?' The look in her forest green eye was the look of someone who knew far, far more than she was letting on.

You won't win a fight against her. Calm down. 'How do you know?' he inquired.

'About what? (Y/N)? Or your feelings?'

'Both.'

Clockwork leant back against a nearby tree, arms folded, and said: 'Dude, you're not very subtle—at least, not to us. We know how you work. You've never been good at sharing, and this new human is no exception. You spent weeks stalking them, for God's sake! We all know about it, and we've all been waiting for you to make a move. It's getting boring.'

'I will make a move,' Jack said sharply, 'just...not yet.' That wasn't a lie. He wanted to make a move. He had to. Every day that passed added a little more impatience into his head, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep playing pretend. He wanted to march into your house and keep pestering you until you regained your memories of him, and if that didn't work, he would demand that Chernabog return them. You had said so yourself: you felt like you knew him, and only went out with Socks because you were distracting yourself. Somewhere, deep within your subconscious, in the furthest and most darkest part that remained inaccessible even to you, your affections for him were lurking just under the surface, waiting to be unlocked.

Oh, how he craved your affection.

'Hah! Sure you will.' Clockwork laughed, the clock in her eye spinning to point at quarter past five. 'Anyway, you need help getting rid of this thing?' She gestured vaguely to the blood-soaked carcass.

'If you can spare the time. I think the easiest way to get rid of it is to bury it. The river here isn't good enough.'

'And where, pray tell, can we bury it?'

Jack paused. There was only one place in the forest that was frequently disturbed enough to be considered unsuspicious, but it meant potentially jeopardising your innocence in the eyes of the law if it was ever discovered.

'Well,' he began slowly, brain whirring, 'I know that there's a spot where dead animals are buried. It's less than ideal, but it doesn't have to be a permanent disposal. We can drive it to the nearest beach tomorrow.'

'I'll take it, it's fine. Just bury it and I'll come back for it later. If we leave it out in the open, your dearly beloved might find it.' She snickered. 'Bet you'd love it if they came crying to you out of fear from finding a corpse. You would be able to swoop in and make it all better.'

Jack frowned. Of course he had thought of doing that, but wouldn't that hurt you? Would showing you a dead body on purpose make you sick? Probably, he decided. If something was going to cause you harm, then he wasn't going to expose you to it. Simple as.

'We aren't showing them the dead body,' he said coldly. 'If they see it, you'll be the one getting buried.'

Clockwork's grin stretched. 'You think you could win in a fight against me? Hah! I'd like to see you try. You're nowhere near my level, you little twerp—a fight with me would be the last thing that you ever do, and your pretty little possession will get snatched up by their partner.'

'Try me.' Jack's eyes were sharp, filled with a pertinacious glow that made him seem almost ungodly in a way reminiscent of his time as the cold-blooded killer everyone once knew he was. 'I fucking dare you.'

Despite the smile that remained plastered to her face, Clockwork felt her muscles tense as a tremor ran down her spine. She was familiar with the way that Jack worked (and how he treated his victims), and it would be a lie if she said that she wasn't just a little tiny bit apprehensive. She wasn't afraid of him—that would be ridiculous, she was much stronger then he was—but...there was something about the look in his eyes. Or maybe it was the tone of his voice. Whatever it was, it made Clockwork realise that Jack was one hundred percent, undoubtably, totally serious about you, and his fixation on securing you as his partner, on keeping you to himself, was what scared her the most, because she knew that he would do anything for his darling human. She knew that he would fight everyone and everything if it meant that you would be able to stay in his arms.

Fighting skill meant nothing when Jack had something to fight for.

'You dare me, huh? Want me to put you in your place, you little shit?' Clockwork tilted her neck until she heard it crack. Was it a bad idea to provoke the ex-demon? Probably. Did she care? No, she did not. 'Do you really want to abandon (Y/N) that badly?'

Jack narrowed his eyes, his grip on his knife tightening. 'You think you can kill me? I didn't get my humanity back to be killed by the likes of you. Either help me with the body, or fuck off. I'm not wasting anymore time here. I have things to do.'

'God, you're so testy,' she cackled, picking up the corpse's feet. 'Chop chop, then. I think I saw that the lights were on in (Y/N)'s house, so if you hurry...' She wiggled her eyebrows in a comical, overdramatic way, internally sighing when she noticed Jack's fist relaxing as the knife was returned to its custom-made sheath in the back pocket of his jeans.

'Really?'

'Yeah! You gonna help or—'

'We need a shovel to bury the body, don't we? The only person who has one is (Y/N), and I'd rather you carry that bastard.' He waved at the cadaver in disgust.

Clockwork frowned, easily picking up the body and slinging it over her shoulder. 'You just don't trust me around them.'

'You're right, I don't.'

<><><>

Clockwork was right; the lights were still on in your house, and the closer Jack got, the easier it was for him to pinpoint which room you were in.

Not wanting to risk being spotted, he crouched down under the living room window, straining his ears in an attempt to separate your voice from the music playing in the background. It wasn't something Jack had heard you listening to before, and he frowned as he tried to recognise it. The lead vocalist's voice slightly drowned out yours, but the lyrics were easy to remember, and Jack made sure to remind himself to look them up later.

He stayed there for a few moments, peering through the minuscule gap under the curtains and blinds, trying to catch a glimpse of you to see what you were doing, what you were wearing, if you were with anyone...

Quickly pulling out his phone, he made sure to turn down the screen brightness and volume.

jack:

what're you doing still up?

you:

how did you know i was still awake o.o

jack:

you were active on instagram a minute ago lmao

you:

oh shit i forgot about that feature rip-

anyway you caught me !

im just finishing some stuff for work

jack:

but it's a bank holiday?

you:

i know T_T

i think its for a school and the teacher wanted it done like.

asap.

jack:

surely they could wait?

you:

clearly not

i hate clients like this lmao

annalise is gonna give me more pay for it tho

so i guess every cloud has a silver lining <333

jack:

at least you've been given a bonus!

if you didn't get paid for doing all this i'd been pretty pissed lol

you:

dw dw annalise is really good with pay

jack:

that's good then

you:

ikr

what're you doing up awake anyway lolol

jack:

couldn't sleep for some reason so i borrowed greg's care for a bit

dont tell him :P

you:

how scandalous !!! my lips are sealed xD

i'd invite you over but idk what time it is

oh shit it's nearly half past three

jack:

i'd love to come over, but shouldn't you be finishing up soon?

staring at your laptop for so long will hurt your eyes

you:

i know, but i just gotta finish this last bit

fifteen minutes then i'll go bed

but i have a condition !

jack:

oh? and what condition is that?

you:

there's like a formal party gathering thing next month for work

and i dont wanna go alone but socks doesnt want to go with me

so do you mind being my plus one?

jack:

course i dont mind!

wanna meet up tomorrow for timings, dress code, etc?

you:

sure !!

ok time to upkeep my end of the deal

i'm gonna finish work and go sleep ^^

jack:

about time lmao

i should probably get back before greg flips

goodnight (y/n)

you:

night night !!

Just like you had said, you went to bed eleven minutes after sending your final text. Jack waited under the window until the music turned off, the lights were extinguished, and the house fell silent. Taking this as a sign that you had kept your promise, Jack pushed himself upright, wincing at the ache in his knees and back, and made his way to the small shed that housed the shovel he needed.

Clockwork wasn't impressed when he finally arrived at the makeshift graveyard.

'What the fuck took you so long?' she snapped, arms folded and foot tapping.

'Things.'

'What kind of "things"? Were you wrapping (Y/N)'s underwear around—'

'Finish that sentence and get hit in the head.' He gave the one eyed-woman a sharp glare, holding up the shovel. 'Anyway. You can get lost now. I've got this.'

'You're so ungrateful. Some thanks for lugging this bitch around wouldn't go amiss.'

'You can get your thanks once you dump him in the sea.'

'Gee, how considerate. Well, thanks for amusing me, Jackie-Boy, but I've gotta go, so have fun digging a grave.' Clockwork bowed theatrically, easily allowing herself to be enveloped by the dark shadows that made up the forest.

Jack shook his head, tutting at her antics before he plunged the blade of the shovel into the dirt. He decided that six feet down wasn't necessary, since the body was going to be dug back up the next night, so just a sprinkling of dirt would do—just enough to conceal the fact that someone's corpse was under the forest floor.

As he dug, Jack wondered what would have happened if he had stayed at home that night instead of coming out to the forest. If the man had succeeded in robbing you of your possessions, who knew what else he would take? Would he steal your ability to feel safe? Or maybe your sense of self would be pinched. Or perhaps it would have been your life.

A shiver joined the river of choler that ran along his nerves and bones, and he stabbed into the dirt harder than necessary, giving the corpse a harsh stare.

'Bastard,' he spat, throwing the shovel aside. 'Motherfucker.' He kicked the body into the makeshift grave, nodding when he heard it hit the ground face-first. 'Twatface.' Dirt covered the cadaver with every passing minute, and it wasn't until the dead man was fully hidden that Jack relaxed, chest heaving, hands and arms aching as the adrenaline of anger wore off.

Consider that a warning.

<><><>

Jack had never been in a church before, yet as he sat on a hard wooden pew, he realised that he'd rather be in Hell.

You looked as stunning as he imagined you would be on your wedding day, yet the person stood with you, smiling in giddy glee, wasn't him, and that pissed him off.

He knew the person holding your hand; it was the partner that had tainted you in the waking world, and had now infected his dreams and turned them into the most horrifying nightmares. When he tried to get up, to open his mouth to object, to move at all, he found that he couldn't. He could only sit there in silence and watch as you entered a conjugal bond that would be impossible to break without breaking the law.

The smile on your face hurt. The small laugh behind your words hurt. Everything hurt, and Jack was sure that anymore pain would kill him. How was it possible that you were so happy with someone else? How could you stand there, a ring on your finger, and announce your love to someone who wasn't called 'Jack Nichols'? How could you have even agreed to getting engaged to them in the first place?

It was your vow that dealt the final blow.

'I remember when we met back in our first year of senior school,' you began, your nervous tic making itself obvious. 'At first I thought that we wouldn't get along, but a novel in the school library made us talk to each other and become friends, so I thought I'd read the passage in particular that we bonded over—chapter 9 of Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.'

Jack bit back a sob when you began to read, and he couldn't even bring himself to imagine you directing your words at him instead of your soon-to-be-partner. His vision blurred and his began to ring unbearably as you moved away from the novel and to your own, heartfelt words.

'When we first got together, I thought that I would mess up and ruin what we had, but I'm glad that I was wrong. There's no one I'd rather dedicate my life to through a legally binding contract. I love you.'

He couldn't take it anymore. He was supposed to be the one you professed your love for, not the bastard stealing you away from him. He had planned on asking for your hand in marriage after dating for roughly four years—you would already be living together, so marriage hopefully wouldn't change too much—and then you would be legally, undoubtably, safe as his spouse; there's no greater deterrent then a ring, after all.

He was blind to the clapping and the cheers as you embraced your new spouse, lips brushing against theirs. He was blind to the happiness on your face, and to the sparkle in your eye. He was blind to everything.

The world was losing its colour, quickly draining to a dull and monotonous grey as his body pushed itself to its feet and through the crowd of well-wishers. He just wanted to go. For the first time ever, he didn't want to be near you. He wasn't sure that he could look you in the eye and congratulate you on your marriage. How could he? He didn't like lying to you, and telling you that he was happy for you was the biggest lie of them all.

What was the point in being there if he was just another guest? What was the point in being if he was just another friend to you? What was the point?

He could hear someone calling out to him, but he ignored them. He didn't care about anything anymore. If a car sped up as he crossed the road and hit him, he wouldn't mind. He wouldn't mind if anything killed him, no matter how painful it was. He just...didn't care.

'Jack! Dude, wake up!'

Greg's vicious shaking ripped Jack away and thrust him into the waking world.

'I'm up, I'm up,' he mumbled, 'what's up?'

'What's up?' Greg repeated, eyes wide and fingers trembling. 'What's up? You nearly jumped out of the fucking window in your sleep. I barely managed to grab you!'

Jack stared at him for a moment. When did he start sleepwalking? 'I did?'

'Yeah, you did! You're stood next to it.'

Jack realised that he was, in fact, stood up, next to an open window. There was a dull ache in his arms, as though someone had hauled him up and dragged him back into his room. Goosebumps covered his skin, and he was slightly damp from the drizzle outside.

'Shit,' he said, sighing heavily. 'I don't know what happened. Sorry, man.'

'Do I have to start locking the windows?' Greg was pacing around the room, hair wild, and face gaunt. 'What would (Y/N) think if you died in your sleep, hm?'

I don't know anymore.

i've finally finished !! yay ! after a long period of writers block, and completely ignoring this fic to work on my personal, original fiction, i finished the chapter and caught up to the original chapter number as the first draft of this fic—back when it was set in slender mansion, and (y/n) got kidnapped by a crazy fucking scientist and his normal sister (if i remember the plot correctly).

i want at least another sixteen chapters for it to be considered complete. chapter 40 will probably be the final chapter, and now i think its time for me to plan. (24 chapters in and now i plan askjdhaskhjakh)