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There's half a bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter in Crossroads and Joel is sitting just behind it, staring at it thoughtfully, wondering if he'll ever be able to drink it again or even just the smell of whiskey will remind him of Spencer for the rest of his life. He doesn't need to drink it, there had been enough beer in his fridge to get him sufficiently drunk, especially when combined with the painkillers the doctor had given him for his wrist, but he wants to drink it.

He wants to share it with Spencer. That was the plan. He likes whiskey, but he'd only bought it because Spencer likes it, too, and while they'd had some of it together already, the plan was to finish it with him. Because Joel had plans. He'd been stupid enough to make plans all the while knowing it could never last because he's done bad things and he's hurt people and there are reasons he's tried so hard to keep his distance. Good reasons. But he'd been stupid and he'd listened to the part of him that thought it was okay to move on. The part of him that felt weightless every time Spencer smiled in his direction. The part that thought asking him out on a date was going to end well.

And it hadn't. It hadn't ended well at all. Joel isn't prone to exaggeration, but he thinks calling last night a complete disaster isn't far off. Mark had come and he'd taken Spencer and he'd hurt him. Joel knows it could have been worse; he knows they both could have died in that lighthouse, but that doesn't make the things that had been done to Spencer any easier to stomach. Especially not when he knows it's his fault. If they hadn't gotten close, if he hadn't let himself get so... so carried away, then Spencer never would have become a target.

Now he doesn't even think it matters. He can't imagine that Spencer will want anything to do with him anymore and that's why he's sitting in his closed, dark store instead of somewhere with Spencer. He should have stayed at the hospital, he shouldn't have been such a coward, but he doesn't think he can face hearing Spencer tell him he doesn't want him around anymore. So he's here. And he's drunk. And he's swaying back and forth on his stool behind the counter, wondering if there's enough whiskey left in the bottle to get him so drunk that he blacks out for a week or two.

He doesn't want to be here. He wants to go back and erase Friday night and do it all over again. He wants to be wherever Spencer is. That's the only thing he wants and he wants it so badly that his chest aches with it, but he can't have it.

"Fuck it," he mutters, his words already slurred, then uncaps the bottle of whiskey and takes a long swallow. Black out drunk sounds better than any of his other options right about now.

[Timed to Saturday late afternoon/evening. While the store is technically closed, he'll open the door for anyone who knocks or rings the bell. Given the violence of the attack on Spencer, the news has probably gotten around, so feel free to come bang on his door and assume your pup has heard. Joel himself has a black eye, a bruised jaw and a sprained wrist.]

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"I should have stayed with him," he says, looking down at where Emily is holding his hand. Another day and he might have pulled away, still uncomfortable with casual touches after so long avoiding them, but he doesn't have the strength anymore. And he supposed it's not such a terrible thing. This past month has changed so much of what he's been trying to do with his life and now, with Spencer injured, he's confused. It's been good, he's been happy for the first time in a long time instead of just coasting along. And he hasn't been unhappy, really, but this is different.

It's different and he wants to keep it, but he's afraid of it at the same time. All it had taken was a month of being happy for Mark to come and use it against him.

"I went to his house to clean up the mess Mark had made and I should have just stayed there, but I..." He pauses, then shakes his head. "I can't expect him to want to see me after all this. It's my... it's my fault. Mark wanted to hurt me and so he went for Spencer."

"Joel." She says his name lowly, ducking his head to catch his eye. "Look at me. This isn't your fault. This is Mark's fault. You didn't make him do what he did - you didn't even know what he'd do, there's no way this is your fault." She's sure about that - sure about it in her bones, and that's why she's still holding his hand, because she sort of feels like he needs that anchor. He's not the bad guy in this, she knows it as clear as she knows her own name.

"You can't know what Spencer wants, either, without asking him. So ask him, don't just think you know what he's thinking and feeling, okay? Because-" She pauses. "Because when bad things happen to you? Yeah, sometimes you want to be alone, you don't want anyone near you because you're hurting, but god, sometimes, all you want in the world is the one person who cares about you, and i know you care about him, and he cares about you." That's a definitive, too, and she's talking too much from her own perspective and not one that's global, but she just can't. She just can't not, because she knows. She knows, in a way, what Spencer's going through right now.

It shouldn't hurt to hear someone tell him it's not his fault, but it does all the same. It aches somewhere deep in his chest and he doesn't know if he's looking for someone to blame him just so he can stop blaming himself or if the idea of Spencer forgiving him hurts this much, but the ache doesn't go away even though he knows Emily is right. He can't go to Spencer like this, drunk and probably a little stoned on his painkillers, dishevelled and falling apart, because if he goes to him, he needs to be a hell of a lot stronger than this.

If Spencer doesn't just turn him away, he'll need Joel to be better than this.

"I should probably sober up first," he says, because he still can't agree with her that he's not at fault. But he can let her know she's right about going to see Spencer. "I smell like a brewery."

"You do," she shrugs a little, like well, that's true. "And you probably should, just so you're a little more clearheaded." She finally lets her hand slip from his. "But I think seeing him-" She paused. "It'll be good for you, too, I think? I mean, you'll be able to know, every time you see him, that that's alive - and so're you."

She paused, and shrugged, looking at her fingers. "I've been there. Where he is, not where you are, but.... it's good. It's good, to just... to just try." She's worried about both of them, but maybe at least if Joel goes to see him, it could help repair some damage.

When she says she's been where Spencer is, Joel wonders if it has anything to do with her leg, her limp, and he has to resist the urge to read her aura. It's harder when he's drunk; he's more relaxed, more open to it and even when he's not looking straight at her he can see the energy and the colours that pour off her. The things most people will never be able to see. But it's a form of prying and so he forces himself to shut it down because she'll tell him if she wants it and she'll tell him in her own good time.

"I will," he says. "I'll try. He's too... he's very important." And he knows there are people who move at a much quicker pace than this, that people meet and are in a relationship within weeks, but it still surprises him sometimes that Spencer has become so important in such a short period of time. Joel knows neither of them are particularly easy people to get to know and somehow they've just fallen into something.

It's got everything to do with her leg, but she's not brought it up or talked about it because of two reasons - no one's asked, and moreover... this isn't about her. She can tell him that she relates, that she knows some of what Spencer's going through. She can worry about both of them, but her leg... That's something else.

She nods when he says Spencer's very important, but she leans to catch his eye. "He is," she says with a nod, but then- "And so are you. You know that, right? That it's okay that you're messed up by this, to? It'll get better, but it makes sense."

He knows it's the sort of thing that's hard to believe in the aftermath, but it is true. Ten years ago he'd lost Amy and his family had been run out of their home, but it had gotten better. His family, he knows, is happier where they live now than they were in Shediac and while Joel isn't sure he's been happier, he's been more comfortable, certainly, in a town where magic isn't such a burden. He still tells so few people, but it's more habit now than it is truly an act of self-preservation.

"I know it will," he agrees, offering her a faint smile. "It's always those first few days and weeks where it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, though, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. It's... right now it's sort of..." She pauses, and she is talking about herself now, because there's no way for it to not. "It takes a while, and you'll probably get angry. Both of you. At each other, at Mark, at the universe, but it'll get better."

She pauses, and she's upset, she doesn't even know why but her eyes are damp as she looks away for a second. "But there's a light. I promise, there is."

For a moment Joel says nothing, only studies Emily, then reaches over to take her hand again. He doesn't often initiate touch, usually shrinks away from it instead of leaning into it and he knows why he does. It's been hard, after the last person he tried to date, the way he was treated, but the people in his life now aren't like that.

"I don't... I don't make friends easily or well," he says. "But you've made it very easy. I want you to know that."

Emily looks at him for a long second, and she looks away, scrubbing at her cheek because she doesn't even know why but she's crying, and her gut - her stupid gut, her gut that she tries to ignore - it says that she should tell him that she's lying to him, that it's not her name, that Emily Watkins doesn't exist and that she's here and shouldn't be but she doesn't want to leave because this is good.

It's good, that she's got friends. That people appreciate her, that she's doing good and making people smile and lending some hope to the darkness that seems like happens to everyone.

"I'm glad we're friends," is what it boils down to, her voice harsh and rough as she clears her throat. She's hoping that he's not seen how she's upset, and she forces a smile and squeezes his hand. "You're a good guy, Joel. I'm really, really glad that I know you. Okay?"

There's still a big part of him that wants to deny what she's said, but he knows that's just a reaction to the awful things that have happened. He knows he's not a bad person, he's worked hard to handle the things he can do and he doesn't let them take him over. He might be short-tempered and he might be something of a recluse most of the time, but these things don't make him a bad person, he has to remember that.

"I am, too," he says. "Glad we met." She's kind in a way a lot of people aren't, he can see that even without reading her aura, but it's spelled out there, too, in the edges he can't help but see. It's always harder for him to block them out when his defenses are down, but he still doesn't like reading people without permission or without reason. "And I'm glad Spencer has you, too. He- he deserves to have good people."

"Okay. And yeah- he does, and so it's good he's got both of us." She's trying to shore him up the best she can - knowing that the next few days were going to be difficult, that he'd have to fight just the bad feelings that would come because feeling hopeless and the rest was just part of it. It was part of the whole thing.

She paused, finally looking over at him, and she's got most of a hold on herself emotionally. "We can figure out the rest as it happens, but you'll both be okay. That's what's important right now." She squeezes his hand, her smile tight. "The rest of it, we'll deal with when it comes."

She says we, like she'll be there to help with whatever they might need along the way and Joel realizes he's not sure the last time he's had someone offer something like that. There are people who would help him, he knows that, but to actually hear someone say it affects him more than he thought it might and he looks down, giving Emily's hand a gentle squeeze.

He's surprised by the urge he has to tell her the truth about himself, about his past, about everything that happened Friday night. It's more than just the attack and the violence that's been weighing on him, it's the knowledge that those dark things he accessed at eighteen are still there, just beneath the surface. But he can't drag anyone else into this part of his life. Not yet.

"Thank you, Emily," he says, meaning it sincerely.

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