Chapter Text
Penn didn’t know what happened, or where he was in that time between. There was a momentary flash of pain mixed with disbelief as the stake went through his Sire’s body before it penetrated his own heart and his body crumbled into dust, followed by a tearing sensation as the demon part of him was ripped away, and agony as something that he recognized as his soul, his humanity was returned to him before he was cast into the abyss; and then there was… nothing.
He didn’t know where he was, or how long he had been there, his tattered essence drifting in a void free of the measure of time or sensation, leaving him nothing to do except relive his memories, clinging tenuously to his sanity as he tried to reconcile his past as a demon with the human part of him; until suddenly he felt something tugging at him. He tried to twist away, somehow sensing that pain was imminent, but the void he was in was as insubstantial as him, and there was nothing for him to hold on to, so he was unable to stop whatever it was from dragging him back into being.
The agony seemed to last an eternity as his body reformed atom by atom, before he finally collapsed to his knees. His screams of agony faded away as he curled his body up, his head buried in his arms and hands over his ears, his senses overwhelmed. It was only then, as he tried to calm his panicked breathing that he realized that his long dead heart was beating once more.
Biting back a whimper as the pain finally started to ease; he tried to force his mind to concentrate, so that he could try to work out what had happened and where he was, but somehow he knew that whatever the answer, it was unlikely to be good.
Behind him, a door opened, and he heard the shuffling of feet as someone entered.
He flinched as a hand touched his bare shoulder, his skin still oversensitive to touch.
“Penn?” a male voice called his name, making him flinch at the noise.
“Can you understand me?” the voice asked, somewhat softer.
Lifting his head, Penn looked up at the man standing behind him, squinting against the light coming from the open door.
“Cut the light,” the voice called, and after a moment, the light disappeared, leaving them in almost complete darkness.
“Better?” the voice asked.
“Yes,” he whispered, wincing at the broken sound of his voice.
“Here,” the man said, offering a bottle of water and removing the lid. “Drink it slowly,” he warned.
Taking the bottle in shaking hands, he held it up to his lips, wincing as the dry skin cracked.
After a few sips to cool his parched throat, he stopped, looking at the man who was still crouched beside him.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice a little stronger.
“You’re at a safe house in LA for Wolfram and Hart,” the man replied. “I’m Lindsey McDonald, and we’re very glad to have you back with us.”