#anyone ever just punch stuff til their hands bleed?

[practicingmedicine]

Practicing Medicine: Chapter One

(+)1

It was eight o'clock in the morning, and Sheriff McBain had just been shot.

There weren’t no lights, no sirens. No outward signs of urgency anywhere, save for the frantic telephone call I’d received just seconds ago and my own bounding heart rate.

It didn’t take me long to pull on my pants or step into my boots. Even with my shaking body, I moved with a sense of purpose, each action a step in a subconscious routine.

Buckle up my pants, lace my boots, grab my glasses, disconnect my Pip-Boy from the outlet, clip that bad-mama on and get it running…

The black screen turned a vibrant green color as I clicked the power button, lighting up my dark room. These were the words on the screen:

PIP-OS(R) v1.0.3

COPYRIGHT 2075 ROBCO(R)

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

16811 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: “THE-SCIENCE-OF-UNCERTAINTY”

INITIALISING….

SUCCESS!

> STATUS

Battery Level: 100%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 90F

> HEALTH

BP: 150/120

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 98.5F

RR: 25

HR: 160

> TIME

Day: 25 September 2279

Time: 08:01

> CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 78F

Atmospheric Pressure: 753 mm

Background Radiation: 0.231 RAD

---

I couldn’t read much, so I wasn’t sure exactly what each of them meant, but I got the gist- I knew exactly what I needed to know. I threw open my door and strode into the hallway, grabbing my father’s white coat off of a hook along the way. I slipped it on over my shoulders as I strode up to the front door, where my faded orange doctor’s-bag lay on its side. Before I threw the strap over my shoulder, I made sure to quickly button my coat and pull my green tie tight around my shirt collar, because my father told me that a doctor should always look his best. I hefted my bag up with one hand and pushed the door open with the other.

The morning sun was bright in my eyes. It was hot outside, about 97 Fahrenheit if my pip-boy was telling me the truth. Not that it mattered- I was used to the heat, and my patient was inside the air-conditioned Bison Steve’s Hotel. I didn’t give it much space in my head.

I started to sprint, skirting the corner of my neighbor’s house and running out into the main square, heavy bag swinging wildly in my aching right hand. As much as I wanted to have time to process all this, to stride up all slow and confident like father had taught me, I didn’t have the time. It could be a matter of seconds deciding whether or not the Sheriff survived.

I was starting to feel kind of dizzy, like you do when you’re fixing to vomit. The Hotel was just up ahead now. The big “Bison Steve’s” sign flickered eerily as I walked up to the double wooden doors, which I pulled on at least three times before I remembered that they were push doors. A rush of cool air washed over my skin as I stepped into the building, and tried to regain my composure. I cleared my throat.

“Alright- Alright y’all, listen up: My name is Isaac Saller, and I am a medic! ” I shouted. There was silence. “‘I’m empty holstered, so please don’t shoot!”

That may have been a bad idea, in retrospect, but it was all that I had planned for an active-shooter type deal. I didn’t deal well with confrontation.

The front hall and the reception desk were abandoned, but the lights were on. I stepped through the next set of propped-open doors and into a dark hallway, where a pretty blonde woman was cowering, holding onto a wall-mounted telephone. Her red face glistened with sweat.

That would be Mrs. McBain.

“Oh my god, Isaac! Come here, quickly- I think my husband is dying!” I power-walked to catch up with her, then tried to keep up a comparable walking pace. Which was kind of hard, given my height; I was still, “between hay and grass ,” my father would have said.

“Could you tell me what happened?” I asked. The words felt so strange to say out loud. I’d practiced what I’d do in a real emergency, but now that it was actually happening, I couldn’t believe that I was actually falling into my routine, just like I did for everything else. Must not have seen any other option.

“Well, the boys- Beagle and my husband, right, they were doing firing drills! But then the shooting stopped and my husband started airing his lungs, just shouting something awful. And when I ran in to see what happened, I saw that Beagle had shot him in the leg!”

And, there was the story. I let out a sigh of relief; here I was worried that I might be dealing with some crazy psychopath! Though, the more I let myself think on it, an idiot like Beagle with a gun started to seem just as dangerous.

“Does he still got the gun?” I asked, approaching one of the four doors to what had to be the firing range. The familiar scent of gunpowder stung my nose as I cracked open the rightmost door, and peered into the massive, open room. I didn’t see nobody, but then again, my vision was so awful that my patient could’ve been right in front of me. Mrs. McBain brushed through the doors.

“No, I made him put it down!” I nodded and entered the room.

As I stepped through the doorway, another smell drifted in after the first- a sharp, metallic smell that hung in the air like some sort of leaking gas. Subtle, and not quite so intimately familiar, but I recognized it right away; the acrid smell of blood rubbed on skin.

“Hey Doc, come on in--the Sheriff is lying over here,” said Deputy Beagle, waving his iron about. I flinched.

“Holster that!” I shouted back, “I’m not going to do anything until-“

“Beagle! You put that thing down right now or I’ll shoot you myself!” Shouted Mrs. McBain. Beagle made a dramatic sigh.

“Fine. But, you know it was an accident, and it ain’t like I’m gonna do it again.” He tossed the gun aside. The cocked, loaded, cold-steel weapon hit the ground hammer-first.

The ensuing, “BANG!” was, no kidding, the second loudest thing I’d ever heard.

“Goddammit!” Beagle shouted, and Mrs. McBain screamed and dropped to a crouch. I just sat, stunned, staring at the gun and trying to think again. It was like my mind was a Television set, and someone had just thrown a brick through the screen; An all-encompassing static crept over my senses.

“Isaac? Isaac, are you alright sweetie ?” asked Mrs. McBain, over the loud ringing in my ears. I nodded.

“I’m okay ,” I lied. I kept nodding.  “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay…”

“You sure don’t look okay,” said Beagle. He was too close to me, way too close. I took a deep breath and pushed him back a little bit.

“I’m good! Where’s the Sheriff?!” I looked around warily. My eardrums were still bubbling, but I was starting to be able to hear myself think again. I had apparently dropped my medical bag on the floor, but it hadn’t opened up or spilled.

“Jesus kid, can you not turn your head on your neck? Over there, sitting against the support beam!” snapped Beagle, motioning towards the wounded Sheriff with his whole upper body. I felt like yelling back but I didn’t. I just gave him a quick nod and stumbled over to the fallen Sheriff.  

The bright red pool beneath Sheriff McBain’s thigh had already begun to clot into ketchup-like clumps. As I got closer, I could hear him muttering to himself, though I couldn’t understand what about. I dropped to a crouch beside him, opened my bag and rooted through it til I found myself a pair of gloves. I had to work to get them on with how sweaty my hands were.

“Hello, Sheriff! Can you understand me?” I asked. He smiled up at me.

“Hey! You’re Isaac, the um, the Gambling-Place owner’s son. Uh, Casino! Yeah…” He trailed off. In my head, I started going over my ABCs, because apparently my mind was too overwhelmed to do anything but stick to its beaten-path routines.

He could speak, so his Airway was patent. I didn’t have time to properly test his Breathing, but it sounded fast and a little shallow. That was par for the course, which left me with the real problem, his Circulation- that’d be the bleeding.

“Alright, Sheriff, I’m going to take your pants off. Tell me if it hurts much,” I said, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. They got snagged up on his shoes, so I started pulling harder. He just laughed as I pulled them off.

“Actually, I don’t feel much of anything in this leg! Just like I got punched, and now it’s burnin’, sorta.”

That was good. It meant that the bone probably hadn’t been fractured, and I wouldn’t need any med-x. I always kept an emergency syringe of the stuff, but I was reluctant to actually use it on anyone.

Once I’d gotten his pants off, I touched his leg. It was cold and wet. I’d assumed shock, based on the bigass blood pool, but I could be dramatic like that; This was solid confirmation. I was going to have to work fast!

As I searched around in my bag for a tourniquet with one hand, I held up the Sheriff’s leg up with my other, so that I could see the wound in the dimly lit firing range. The hole wasn’t big. At least, not the entry- just a red, penny-sized oval near the base of his thigh, surrounded by bruised skin and seeping out blood. Like a bloody little volcano.

The exit wound, on the other hand, was massive . A jagged hole right under his ass with flaps of skin hanging loose around it, spitting out a torrential amount of bright red blood with each beat of his bounding heart. Based on the color of the blood and the way that it was coming out, I knew that the bullet had nicked or severed his femoral artery. I also knew that I probably couldn’t repair that with forceps and bandages alone. The best thing I could do would be to stem the bleeding, and get a stimpack as quick as possible.

Of course, that presented a little bit of a problem: See, stimpacks are awful expensive, so carrying them around wasn’t always an option for a man like myself. As of now, I didn’t actually have any of them-things in my jump-bag. Some places ‘round here had one in a box on the wall, but I didn’t see none in here, and I’d have noticed one in the hall if there’d been one. I cursed under my breath.

“Go and get me a stimpack!” I ordered. I had finally found where I kept my tourniquets without actually looking into the bag, though if I had any sort of presence of mind, I would have been embarrassed at how long it had taken me. I pulled his shoe off, and slipped the tourniquet on over his leg.

“I’ll fetch one from the kitchen!” replied Mrs. McBain, and I nodded to let her know I’d heard. Now that I had a stimpack on the way, all I had to do was keep the Sheriff from kickin it until I could apply the damn thing.

Easier said than done.

“Why are you squeezing me? You taking my blood numbers or something?” The Sheriff asked, as I pulled the premade tourniquet tight and started cranking on it. I tried to smile.

“I’m not taking your blood pressure, sir, I’m putting on a tourniquet. It’ll hurt, but you’ll bleed a lot less.” When I couldn’t tighten it anymore, I took out another tourniquet, and fastened it right above the first one, against the base of his thigh. It was a good thing that the Sheriff was thin, or I’d be having some issues about now.

“What are you doing? He could lose his leg that way!” shouted Beagle. When I kept on tightening the second tourniquet, he hit me in the back of the head- not so much to hurt me as to get a reaction out of me. I didn’t give him one. “Hey, are you blind and deaf? I’m talking to you!”

“Stop it Beagle! Isaac is a good… he’s a good kid,” insisted the Sheriff, his voice growing weak. I finished cranking the tourniquet, and touched the Sheriff’s ashen forehead. He looked like he’d stuck his head in a drinking fountain, with how much he was sweating...

“Could you try and talk with me, Sheriff? I’m gonna try some more stuff, try to keep you from going into decompensated shock.”

The Sheriff looked confused. He squinted up at me with teary eyes.

“Shock? You mean, the reason why it don’t hurt? I’m pretty sure I’m already in shock, but I ain’t- I ain’t shocked, you know. Like, I know what’s happened. I got my mind about me ,” he grumbled, tapping his head conspiratorially. I removed a few packets of gauze from my bag and tore them open.

“No, I mean when your organs stop working cause your blood-pressure drops and they ain’t getting enough blood!” Finally, I finished packing the exit wound tight with gauze. I started putting pressure on it.

“Oh. Huh. Well, you doctors ought to stop having so many words that mean- that mean all different things,” the Sheriff replied, his breath passing his lips so quietly that I was worried he might have fallen unconscious. I stopped moving.

“Sheriff?” I asked. When he didn’t respond, I reached into my coat with my free hand, and pulled out a small metal tinderbox full of a reddish powder. I waved it under his nose.

“Wake up, Sheriff!” I shouted. He started coughing and looking around wildly.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, what the hell is that smell?” I slipped the box back in my coat.

“N-H-Four, sir! It’s supposed to keep you awake!”

Of course, it wasn’t doing a very good job at it! Before I was even done speaking, the sheriff had puked all over himself and slumped forward. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him vigorously.

“Keep them eyes open Sheriff! Stay with me here!” His eyes fluttered.

“You know, I like your voice! It’s like, you talk like a teacher, but then you got your daddy’s cowboy-thing going on, so it’s sort of funny…” he muttered. His head hung limp on his neck. I let him drop to his side, and focused on applying pressure to the wound again.

“Um, Isaac?” I looked over my shoulder. Deputy Beagle was standing above me again, clasping his hands together. I wasn’t so good at reading emotions, but I’d seen enough pre-vomit patients to know that he was feeling sick. He had spoken so quietly, which was strange considering how loud he’d been before. “Isaac, Is he gonna die? I thought that getting shot in the leg didn’t kill people. Why’s he acting like that?” I sighed.

“I sure hope not. But, there’s a big red-pipe in your leg, and if it gets hit, you bleed a lot. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do if I don’t get a stimpack soon!”

As if on cue, Mrs. McBain came rushing into the room, her dress all bunched up and full of miscellaneous medical supplies. Among the heaps of things I didn’t need, I could see a stimpack poking up.

“Isaac! I brought a bunch of things, I don’t know what’ll help and what won’t, but-”

Suddenly, Mrs. McBain stumbled, and her makeshift pouch came unfurled as she threw out one hand to catch herself.

Aw shit! I dropped everything and ran towards Mrs. McBain, interposing myself between the unsecured, falling medical supplies and the floor. Packaged Band-Aids, bottles of pills and ointments, a pair of scissors- it all went tumbling over me and I didn’t care, until suddenly I saw the fragile old stimpack teetering on the edge. By now, Mrs. McBain was trying to recover, but she was only making matters worse. The supplies were spilling out both sides now, and she was getting dangerously close to just dumping it all on top of me.

The stimpack. That was the focus. I shot out my hand to try to grab it, but I only succeeded in tipping it off it’s balance point, causing it to tumble back into the pouch.

I sat up, and all the supplies that had landed on me spilled back onto the floor.

“Don’t-“ I started, but she had already slipped and let go of the other side of the pouch. I cried out as it all went spilling on the ground.

“The stimpack!” I looked down, and found that through some unchecked reflex, I had caught it on my outstretched thigh. I blinked.

“Huh,” I said, and snatched the needle off my leg. I rushed back over to the Sheriff, who was unconscious and drooling. Beagle was sitting beside him, pressing hard on the entrance with his bloodstained hands and muttering to himself.

“Kurt, you can’t die- I’m, I’m just a deputy, if you die I’ll have to handle this whole town myself, and you know I can’t do that! Please, please don’t you die, please-“ I took a knee beside Beagle and his brother, stimpack in hand. Beagle was crying.

“Am I- am I doing this right?” He asked. I nodded.

“You are doing just stupendously! Just keep doing that!” I replied. I lifted up the sheriff’s leg, tore out all the gauze and probed around with the needle for a minute, until I’d found the deflated husk of his split femoral artery among all of the slick yellow fat and ground-beef looking shit in his leg. I didn’t have much light to work with and it was pretty well buried beneath the gory chaos of the exit, but I knew it when I saw it- despite the tourniquet, the top end was still spritzing out bright red blood with each passing heartbeat. I took my forceps out of my bag, which already had some fishing-line and a hook wrapped around them, and got to suturing the split ends together. The artery kept on pulsing out blood around the edges as I passed my hook and line through it’s thick middle layer.

‘Moment of truth, Isaac,’ I thought, as I squared off my suture. I picked up the stimpack again, prepped the needle with my shaking hands. I took a deep breath.

In the dim light of the firing range, I stuck the pipe.

The freezing cold from the reaction chilled my gloved fingers halfway to the bone. Had it worked? Would it hold? I had no idea. It wasn’t squirting blood no more, so I snipped off the end of the suture and pulled all the fishing line out, then started suturing up his ragged exit-wound, so that the ends of the skin were facing upwards. I didn’t even bother squaring off the end before running a stimpack along the seam. Once his thigh had sewed up along an ugly white line, I pulled all the fishing string out, because otherwise I was just asking for it to get infected. I still had a little stimpack-juice left, so I moved Beagle aside and shot the rest of it into the tiny-little entry wound, to sort out any of the leftover internal damage.

More time passed in silence. I knew it wouldn’t matter, but I loosened and removed the tourniquets to feel like I was doing something. My ears were ringing, blood was soaking into my pants like syrup, but I barely noticed- all that mattered now was if he was going to live, or if he was going to die. I was just going to have to have faith now.

“Is it working?” asked Mrs. McBain. I checked the Sheriff’s pulses, noticed that some warmth had returned to his skin...

Pulse is already stronger , and I can actually get a femoral. I sighed with relief. “It’s working. Pressure’s up.” A few more seconds passed. “I doubt he stopped perfusing to his brain for long, so his head should be fine, if you’re worried about that. He’s gonna need a ton of fluid, though, and he might need some more help with that leg-“ I started, but then Mrs. McBain wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a tight hug. Once I was over the initial shock, I hugged her back.

“Thanks,” I murmured. Mrs. McBain laughed.

“You saved my husband, Isaac! You saved his life!”

I nodded and tried to free myself from the asphyxiating hug. Unfortunately, Mrs. McBain was a teensy bit stronger than me. “I don’t even know how to thank you. Do you want caps? We- well, you know we aren’t rich, but we have a tin of caps hidden away under the floorboards!” Still struggling in vain to free myself, I shook my head.

“No- no, Mrs. McBain, I don’t want no caps! I just need you to work with me here for these next couple weeks to get your husband healthy again. I mean, he just caught a bullet, he’s gonna need some help getting back to normal...” I was lying about the caps. I would have loved caps, considering how much I was hurting for supplies. But I also wanted to establish that I didn’t charge for my services, and Mrs. McBain had a way of inadvertently spreading that sort of information.

“Oh, but I can’t just let you go back to work like that- look at you, you’re all filthy!” she said, finally releasing me from the hug. I stumbled back and fell onto my rear. “Why don’t you come over to our house- You can get those clothes washed, and I’ll get you some lunch. And a shower too, what would Penny say if she saw you like this?”

Well, I couldn’t disagree with her on that count. Just hugging Mrs. Mcbain, I’d gotten spots of blood all over her dress. Momma had already had to warn me about tracking blood in the house before...

“Alright,” I said. The ringing in my ears was tolerable now. I was starting to be able to think straight again, even if I was still shaking and sweating like hell. I noticed that Beagle had offered me his hand.

“Um- yes!” I said, pulling off my glove and allowing him to haul me up to my feet. He held on real tight to my hand and looked at me with an expression that I couldn’t parse.

“I owe you one, Isaac. I know that this is my fault, and that I’m not always nice to you, but I- I really do appreciate this. I don’t know what I’d have done without my brother.” I tried out a smile. Beagle smiled back at me, and it almost made me forget how much of a prick he’d been when I was a kid. Almost.

“Water under the bridge, Beagle,” I replied. I thought about winking, but I once made a girl run away from me when I tried to wink at her, so I held off.

“Isaac, sweetie-“ I turned around. Mrs. McBain was standing in the doorway. “The door’s unlocked, why don’t you come back to the house first? We can lay my husband down while you wash up.”

I considered. The sheriff seemed stable enough for that proposal, but no one else seemed to quite understand the extent of what he’d just suffered, or the long road that lay ahead for him. I mean, hell, he’d had his leg blown open, lost a third of his blood, and then had a stimpack injected right into a central artery! There were some things I wanted to take care of before I attended to myself.

“I like that idea, but can I borrow one of you to help me finish sorting out Beagle first?” I asked. Mrs. McBain looked at Beagle.

“Beagle, seeing as how you’re the one who shot him…” she started. Beagle put his hands above his head.

“I’ll handle it, ma’am. What should I do?” I raised my hand.

“We’re gonna try to get him on a mattress, if we can. Start him on some Saline and get him drinking water when he wakes up, the stimpack and his body will sorta work together to replace all that blood he lost. He’s going to be in a lot of pain, so we’ll have to give him morphine when he wakes up. I’ve got powder and IV’s with me,” I said, trying my best to cover all my bases without over-explaining. Mrs. McBain started to walk away.

“Alright! You two do what you have to, I'll be getting the house ready for him.” she said, and disappeared through the doorway. I looked at Beagle.

“He didn’t hurt his back none, right?” I asked. Beagle shook his head. “Good. I’m gonna grab his legs then, you grab his arms- let’s get him on one of them cots over there, then move him from there.”

He nodded. We grabbed a hold of the Sheriff’s limbs.

“Alright. Three, two, one-”

[+]

[bran-writes]

AK Character Flashback: Devon

Devon could tell Zig-Zag was starting to get anxious, which the eleven year-old could understand- he really didn’t want to be caught dead in an abandoned insane asylum on the outskirts of The Barrens after dark either. But, Devon was spurred on by the burning question in the forefront of his mind.

“You can just stay out here, if you want,” Devon shrugged, glancing behind him. Zig was climbing the vine-shrouded stone steps, sweat glistening on his forehead. The boy pushed his glasses up and scoffed.

“I’m not scared. I’m careful.”

“I know.”

“Plus, I probably would be more scared out here by myself than in there with you… So… There’s that.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you care so much, anyways? You didn’t even know the kid.”

Devon stopped, grabbing the straps of his backpack and pulling them tight. He knew why he was here, he just wasn’t sure if he could explain it. Zig came to a stop next to him and patiently waited for an answer. “You ever felt really alone?”

“Sure, that was like, all I did before I met you guys.”

“Imagine how he felt,” Devon nodded towards the looming, decrepit building. “Nobody should be that alone.”

Zig wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Okay.”

The two continued ahead, stepping around debris from wreckage they had no context for. As they walked closer, Devin kept an eye on the cracked, dirty, blackened windows above, half-expecting to see the ghost of a young boy staring back at him.

If the rumors about this place were true, Devon would probably feel like crying after he left, but he pushed on anyways. He just wanted to know.

Zig-Zag pulled the door open for Devon and held it while the boy walked through, pulling the cheap drone out of his backpack and clicking the activation button. With a whir, the tear-shaped device sputtered, faltered in the air in front of him as if it was dangling on a string and then straightened out.

“We need a new one,” Zig sighed. “Flashlight.”

A beam of light shot from the front and two sides of the drone. The lobby of the deserted building sat uncomfortably still- the broken down furniture and abandoned desk cast strange shadows on the dirty surfaces. Devon connected the drone to his watch and set it to record video and audio.

“We good?”

“Yeah, let’s get this done so we can go.”

“Speaking my language, Han Brolo,” Zig smiled.

The two kids picked their way around the rubble, while the drone’s secondary set of lights scanned the scorch-marked walls and shattered doors. They kept an eye out in all directions, wary of anyone lurking around the halls. In  any other old abandoned building around town, they’d have to worry about squatters and addicts approaching them from the dark(so they’d been told). But here in Sam Morner Hospital, they probably wouldn’t have to worry so much. Nobody hid out here, not this close to the Barrens.

Following the old floor plans on his phone, Devon lead Zig-Zag through connecting hallways and down a flight of stairs, their outdated drone humming behind between them. The place was stiflingly dark and smelled like old, wet moss and rusted metal.

“He must have been so scared,” Zig sighed.

“We’re close.”

They reached the bottom of the stairwell and paused, the drone shining it’s three lights down down each hallway of the T-Junction. Down the paths to the left and right, Devon saw nothing but a stretch of darkness past the light beams- other than motes of dust drifting restlessly. He was really starting to wish they were back at Zig’s house, where they were supposed to be.

I’m sure he wanted to be home, too, Devon thought.

Ahead of them was a short dead-end hallway- a group of rooms that once served as storage used by the staff of the facility. At the end of that hallway was a single door, the faded and chipped word “MAINTENANCE” stenciled on its rusted bronze surface.

“There it is…” Devon whispered. He felt his stomach turn and that familiar lump in his throat when he was trying not to cry. They stepped forward and got halfway to the door when they heard shuffling.

“Flashlight,” a voice whispered sharply from behind them.

The drone went dark.

The boys were enveloped in the blackness.

Zig screamed.

Devon joined him in screaming when he heard someone scramble towards them too fast for them to react and Zig hit the floor. “Flashlight- High Beam!”

Kwin Bergeron sat on Zig’s chest, cackling in the harsh light of their drone.

“You fucking psycho!” Zig hurled punches up at their friend, who just blocked them, laughing before rolling off the boy.

“Kwin, what the hell?” Devon panted.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it!”

Zig sat up, on the verge of tears, “Yo, that’s not cool, you almost gave me-”

“Boo!”

Both boys screamed again, Kwin laughing even harder after Holly Groene leaped from the shadows. “Jesus! What are you two doing here?!”

“Uh, we showed up at Zig’s house and you guys were gone-zo,” Kwin chuckled, “and so was the dang drone. We checked the app and saw it out in Old Pine. We took a few guesses.”

Devon took a moment to catch his breath and let his nerves settle, while Kwin helped Zig up. “Great, that’s great.”

“Wait, how’d you beat us down here then?” Zig brushed himself off.

“Your brother,” Holly shrugged. “Him and his girlfriend drove us around to Hartley and parked in the back. All we had to do was wait.”

“No fucking way,” Zig scoffed, “Miles would never let you come down here alone.”

Holly pulled at a strap on her shoulder and revealed the hunting rifle she had slung. “I got this baby with me.”

“Anyways,” Kwin sighed. “Let’s do it to it. Nobody wants to be near the Barrens after dark.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, asshole.”

“Wait, what do you think we’re doing?” Devon tilted his head.

Kwin looked confused. “We’re here to pay our respects, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Cool.” Kwin walked down the hall and stopped in front of the door, Holly joining him. Devon and Zig followed. “You do the honors,” Kwin stepped back.

Devon gently pulled the door and it opened with a sad, lonely whine. The room was small, cramped, musty. The drone cast it’s dim light inside onto a dry, filthy blanket, a couple of empty tool boxes an a message sloppily written on the wall:

ILY Mom

A year ago, police in town followed a tip and found the body of 12 year old Charlie Nemitz down here. Charlie was a quiet, reserved hemophiliac and the constant target of bullying at their school. He was small, skinny, frail and had an awful stutter, even when he talked to himself in the halls. Even Devon knew that all Charlie wanted was to be left alone to draw and color his art. That didn’t stop kids from picking on him- and since Charlie never told on his bullies, and he never fought back, it got worse over time.

This was where Charlie Nemitz died. This was where- after a group of bullies spotted him walking alone, jumped him, dragged him into Sam Morner, down the stairs and threw him into the room- his last moments played out. Bleeding out from his internal wounds, Charlie kicked and screamed at boys who were just upstairs. The bullies clowned around thinking they’d let him out in a few hours after they’d downed all their stolen beers. This is where Charlie used one of his markers to scribble a barely legible message to his mother in the dark. Charlie succumbed to the internal bleeding in his brain, stomach and limbs before the three bullies thought to check on him.

Devon unslung his backpack and set it on the ground as he crouched next to it, tears streaming down his face. Zig did the same and pulled out his own belongings he’d brought.

He wasn’t surprised the rumor about the message on the wall was true, he just needed to know. The three boys had all just been convicted, and the message(for whatever reason) wasn’t mentioned in the trial. But the kids around school swore it was real- some claimed to have come down there themselves to see it.

Devon just wanted to know.

“I brought some old comics I don’t read anymore,” Zig whispered. He laid them out neatly against the wall. “He passed by me one day in the cafeteria and saw me reading ‘em. I could tell he was trying to get a good look at the, uh… at  the pages, but when I asked if he wanted to read em… he just shook his head and walked off.”

“These are some of his drawings I tried to replicate one day cause I thought they were pretty cool. Mr. Connors had them hanging outside the art room, so I went and tried to sketch it myself? Like one day before school. He was really good, but he was an older kid so I was scared to ask him about it. I wish I had.”

Kwin stepped forward and reached into his own bag, pulling out a smooth orb that reflected off the drone’s light. “I didn’t really know him… I only saw him a couple times. But I kept thinking about how dark and scary it was in here so I brought a Glo-Ball… I don’t know, it won’t last forever, but-”

“It’s cool, I’m glad you brought it,” Devon interrupted. Kwin had a tendency to doubt himself, so the boy often found himself stopping his friend from getting there.

Kwin shook the glass ball, coaxing it to glow brighter and brighter the more he did so. He cranked a switch in the flat side on the bottom to increase the time and hit the alarm feature. “There, it’ll last for 6 hours every day at noon. At least til the dang battery dies.”

The kids- Devon, Zig, Kwin and Holly- stood there for a few long and silent moments before Devon stood up and brushed his pants off. “He deserved to still be here. That’s what all this means.”

The others remained silent in solemn agreement, before Kwin stood up as well, swiping his hands together and nodding in approval of their memorial. “The dark’s the worst way to go.”

“What’s that from?”

“I forgot, but I have nightmares about this stuff all the time,” Kwin shrugged and turned for the door. Followed by Holly. Zig and Devon followed, back up the stairs, out of the side entrance to the abandoned facility where Miles Sutter’s car was waiting with the teenager and his girlfriend inside.

Before they got any closer, Devon stopped them all. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for coming out here with me. It’s cool I didn’t have to do this by myself.”

“No problem,” Holly brushed her blonde locks back, “And it’s cool you did this. You have the best ideas.”

“Yeah,” Kwin lightly punched his shoulder, “It feels good. Like, having an ending to it. I don’t have to pay attention to any of the bullshit rumors and news stuff. We said goodbye.”

“I think he’d appreciate that,” Zig sucked his teeth. He wrapped a skinny arm around Devon’s shoulders. “Good work, Inspector Cooley. Another case taken care of.”

Tag List:

@remi-writes-sometimes​ @writerinafury​ @the-violet-writer​ @anomaly00​ @writinglyra​ @linariouswrites​ @drabbleitout​ @carmina-solis​

[vicmc624]

Memory lost

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 6737

summary: reader is attacked outside a bar and loses her memory the boys work to help her recover

warnings: sexual assault, trauma

Masterlist

Sam and Dean walked into the hospital, Dean had been struggling to breathe since they got the call from the sheriff. You were at a bar when you were attacked, after watching the security footage Dean felt sick to his stomach.

They could see you walking out to your car in the parking lot, when someone came up behind you with what looked like a metal pipe. After watching him hit you in the back of the head, you fell to the ground. They they watched him reach down and grab your leg, dragging you to a van parked in the very back of the lot. You started coming to about halfway there and pulled your leg from his hand. He tried to reach for you again when you punched him hard in the face, the man was stunned but quickly recovered hitting you in the side of the head with the pipe. Dean's hands were clenched in fist and he could taste blood in his mouth from biting his lip so hard. The man was dragging you again and when he reached the van he let go of your leg to open the door. You took the opportunity to stumble up and slam his face into the van as hard as you could. He backhanded you and you fell back down. After a few kicks to the ribs he lifted you and forced you into the van. The boys could no longer see you but now the could see the van rocking back and forth. Dean got up and left the room, feeling in the bile rising in his stomach. Why wasn't he there to protect you. Sam continued to watch, the sheriff fast forwarded the video for about 20 min, then he could see your limp body being shoved naked out of the side of the van before it drove off. The plates were blacked out. You laid there for another 10 min til someone walking by saw you.

As soon as they got to your room the doctor was coming out.

“Are you family members of Ms. y/l/n?” he asked.

“Yes, we are her brothers.” Sam said quickly.

“How is she doc?” Dean asked.

“Well, she is a very brave girl, a fighter for sure. She has 4 broken ribs, her wrist is broken and her nose. What has us worried is the bleeding in her brain. She had 2 different blunt force injuries and we had to drill holes in her skull to relieve the pressure. I have to warn you, we don't know what kind of damage has been done to her brain. We won't know til she wakes up, if she wakes up. She has a chest tube in for her lung that was collapsed. She is stable but not out of the woods. And I'm sorry to inform you, we weren't able to save the baby.”

“Baby?!” Dean asked in shock

“She was only about 5 weeks, she might not have known yet. There was a lot of bleeding and there's a very good chance that she will never be able to have kids. Again I'm very sorry, we did all we could but there was so much damage, the scar tissue is going to make it very difficult for her to carry a baby to full term. You can go in and see her now.”

Dean rushed passed the doctor to open the door but stopped as soon as he saw you. You were hooked up to machines, with tubes everywhere. You looked so bruised and broken, that Dean didn't know if you were going to make it. He heard Sam crying behind him as he slowly made his way to the side of your bed. The boys stayed by your side for weeks, waiting for you to wake up. The tube was taken out of your throat after 2 weeks, the doctor said it was a good sign that you were breathing on your own. They sat by your bed everyday hoping that this would be the day you would finally wake up.

You were desperately trying to open your eyes. You could hear voices close to you, but you didn't know who it was.

“This is all my fault.” Dean said trying to hold back the tears. “It was a stupid fight, I should never have let her leave the motel. What if she never wakes up? How am I suppose to live without her?”

“Don't say that, this is not your fault. And we both know y/n is a fighter. If anyone can make it through this it's her.”

“I didn't know about the baby. How can I miss something so much that I didn't even know existed.”

“I'm so sorry Dean, you and y/n would have made great parents.”

You continue to listen to their conversation, “are they talking about me” you thought.

After a few more days you finally were able to force your eyes open. You felt someone holding your hand. You struggled to turn your head to the side to see who it was. You didn't know the man but your first thought was how handsome he was. Maybe he had the wrong room. How could someone you never met before be sitting by your bed.

Dean looked up at you and gasped, “Sam she's awake! Call the doctor! We are right here y/n, you're going to be fine.”

You felt someone holding your other hand and your turned your head to look, it was another attractive man with tears in his eyes. Who are they you wondered.

“Glad to see you finally awake. I have some questions to ask you, if you don't mind.” the doctor said. “First, do you know your name?”

You stared at him for a second, trying to think, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't remember. So you just shook your head no.

“Do you know what year it is?”

Again you tried to make your brain focus, trying desperately to remember anything. But no matter how hard you tried you couldn't remember a single detail before hearing the voices next to your bed. You shook your head no again. You could see the green eyed man break down in tears, but you couldn't understand why.

“Ok, I'm gonna tell you a little bit about what happened. You were brought into the hospital several weeks ago with severe injuries, do you remember this at all?”

“No” your voice cracked, your throat hurt so bad. “Could I have some water”

Dean rushed to get you some water right away. He lifted your head and held the cup to your lips. You had never tasted anything better.

“Ok Ms. y/l/n, do you remember your brothers at all.”

Brothers? You looked back and forth between the two men and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't remember ever seeing them before.

“I'm sorry, I don't remember you.” you told them.

“It's possible this is just a side effect from the head trauma. Sometimes it takes a while for the brain to reset. Her memory could come back without warning. But there is also a chance that it won't come back at all. We will just have to wait and see. I'm going to schedule an MRI so we can get a better look at how your brain is healing. A nurse will be in shortly to take you up to radiology.” With that the doctor left you with these two strangers.

“So” you started feeling a little awkward, “You guys are my brothers, are our parents still alive? Will they be coming by to visit?”

Sam and Dean glanced back and forth between each other, not sure what to tell you. Finally Sam spoke up, “No parents, it's just the three of us.”

You could feel tears welling in your eyes, “How did they die?” you weren't sure why you felt so sad about people you don't even remember. Seeing your eyes tearing up Dean broke down. “Sam we should just tell her everything.”

“Dean enough, we don't want to overwhelm her, she just woke up. Lets give her time to adjust before you start telling her about her whole life.”

Days passed, you saw your brothers there everyday but you still couldn't remember anything til one night you had a dream. You could feel someones arms holding you down, you could feel extreme pain between your legs. In the dream you fought, you were kicking and punching but you weren't able to stop the pain. You sat up in your hospital bed screaming. Dean was right there next to you, trying to calm you down.

“Just breath, you are safe now. We are right here. Shhh.” he was rubbing your back to calm you down. After several minutes your breathing slowed down finally.

“What was that? I remember someone hurting me, I remember thinking I had never felt so much pain.”

Dean broke down next to you. “I'm so sorry, we had a fight and you left to go to that bar, if I wasn't such an idiot you never would have left.”

Sam was trying to comfort him while you just stared at the both. Would you ever remember who you were or were you just going to live the rest of your life in the dark. After a few more weeks the doctors cleared you to leave the hospital. The brothers took you with them to their bunker and on the way they told you more about your life. You were a hunter, you killed monsters that preyed on people. They told you that they weren't you brothers. They only told the doctors that so they could see you and stay by your side. You were Sam's best friend and Dean was your boyfriend for over 2 years. They kept trying to get in touch with an angel named Castiel to heal you. They were hoping he could help you get your memory back. They showed you the room that you shared with Dean, but you couldn't let him touch you, you kept thinking of him as your brother and it felt too strange to think about being intimate with him. He moved all his stuff out of your room to make you more comfortable. Weeks went by, and you still couldn't remember anything. You were starting to believe that you would never get back the person you were. They boys told you more about hunting, but they were taking a break to take care of you. You told them that you would be fine on your own. You weren't planning on leaving the bunker and maybe some time alone would take the pressure you felt off for a while. You felt like they were constantly watching you, trying to see any spark of recognition in your eyes. You helped them with research for their next hunt, even though you don't remember how to do it. You wanted to try and do something. You picked up a book from the stack that was sitting in front of Sam.

“What language is this even in? Do I know how to even read this?” you asked.

“Definitely, you are great at Latin.” Sam said with the smile. You were slowly getting more and more comfortable being around them. You could see why Sam was your best friend. He had an energy about him that was hard to ignore. You smiled back at him and opened the book. You leafed through it a while and were surprised to find that you understand everything it said.

“Wait, how can I understand this language I don't remember, but I can't remember anything else?”

“Languages are stored in a different part of the brain.” Sam said.

After a few hours of research, they discovered what they were hunting and started packing to leave.

“Are you sure you'll be ok here by yourself?” Dean asked with a shy smile. You heart was fluttering while you looked at his eyes. You could understand why, he was incredibly hot, but he was also so sweet. You could tell that he still felt guilty for what happened to you. You got the feeling he usually blamed himself when things went wrong. You smiled back at him and told him you were sure. There was plenty of food in the kitchen and you were planning on exploring more, maybe watching something on Netflix, Sam had showed you how to use it again and pointed out some of the shows you had watched together.

“If anything comes back to me I will call you.” you told him. He pulled you in a for a hug and you stiffened at first but gradually relaxed. Something about it felt familiar, and they way he smelled almost felt like a memory that was just out of reach. He pulled back finally and they left. You made your way around the bunker, stopping at the gun range. You don't remember shooting a gun but they told you that you were good at it. You stared at it a while trying to figure out if you remember how to load it. But as soon as you picked it up it was like a reflex. You loaded it, and cocked the gun back quickly before aiming at the target and pulling the trigger. You hit the bullseye every time. You smiled to yourself. Well at least I remember how to do that. You made your way to the kitchen and decided to have a snack. All of a sudden you felt like there was someone behind you. You turned and screamed when you saw a stranger standing in the doorway.

“Y/N? Are you ok? Where are the boys?”

Cas had just showed up to the bunker. He was trapped in a cage by a prince of hell and couldn't get to you. Once he finally broke free he made his way back to the bunker. You told him about what happened and how you couldn't remember anything. Placing his finger on your head you felt some of your aches and pains disappear but you still couldn't remember anything.

A few days went by before Sam and Dean made it home. Cas told them that he healed you but you still couldn't remember.

“Cas what's going on? Why can't she remember us?” Dean asked, you could hear the desperation in his voice.

“I'm sorry Dean, her mind has built a wall to protect her against that night. I think the only way she is going to remember her life is if I help her remember that night.”

“No way, there has to be another way!” Dean yelled.

“I wish there was. I healed her already but only one thing can break that wall down.”

You sat there staring between the three men in front of you. Part of you kept thinking how bad can it be, yet the other part told you it was bad enough your mind created a wall to protect yourself, did you really want to remember?

“Do it Cas, I can't live the rest of my life not remembering who I am.”

With that Cas touched your head again and you saw everything that happened that nigh. Starting with your fight with Dean, over something stupid, he thought you were reckless on a hunt, jumping in front of a vamp to save a girl, you left to the bar to clear your head and decided that you understood the reason Dean was upset. You would be just as mad as him if he had done the same. You remember walking out to the parking lot to make your way back to the hotel, when you felt a pain in your head. You remember waking up and fighting the person dragging you before you were hit again. You remember waking up when if tried to force you into his van and fighting back as hard as you could. You remember the pain in your ribs and struggling to breathe before he forced you into his van. Once inside you remember fighting as hard as your could to keep him off you but you weren't strong enough. You remember feeling him inside you, the pain and the humiliation. You remember hitting him again before he punched you, knocking you out.

You stared screaming and couldn't stop. Cas tried to calm you down, and Dean came up to hug you. You flinched away from him and couldn't breathe. Everyone was trying to calm you down but you couldn't let anyone touch you. Even Sam tried to hug you and you flinched away. You couldn't breathe and you felt like you would never get a full breath again. Then Cas finally touched your head, and you fell unconscious.

“What was that Cas?” Dean asked with tears in his eyes.

“It was worse than I expected. The trauma was so extreme. I believe she just needs time. It may be a while before she heals.”

Dean carried you to your room setting you down and brushing the hair out of your face. In that moment he hated himself even more. Why wasn't he there to protect you.

The next morning you woke up screaming again. Dean rushed in to try and comfort you but you couldn't let him near you. You saw the broken look in his eyes when you flinched away from him again.

“I'm sorry, I know you only want to help. But I only remember bits and pieces of you from that night.”

“I know, I'll leave you alone. Just know I'm here if you need to talk at all.” He turned to leave but you grabbed his hand.

“Could you stay a while and just sit here? I don't want to be alone.”

“Of course sweetheart.” He gave you a small smile before sitting in a chair next to your bed. It was quiet for a while before you finally spoke up.

“Tell me how we met?”

“Well Sam and I were hunting a vamp nest down in Texas, there were more than we expected there to be. I was starting to think that we were going to be overtaken when we heard the sounds of fighting from the kitchen. Some of the vamps trying to attack us left to see what was going on and that gave us the advantage we needed to finish them off. We ran to the kitchen and there you were, 5 vamps on the floor around you, and I remember thinking how hot you looked holding your blade, breathing heavy and covered in vamp blood. We invited you out for a drink to thank you.”

“Eww, there is no way you thought I was hot with vamp blood all over me. That so gross. Did I at least shower before we had that drink?”

“Of course, we were all covered in vamp blood, but trust me. You were hot, you looked like a total bad ass!”

“What happened next?”

“Well since you were hunting alone I asked you to tag along with us. We made a pretty good team taking out the vamp nest. You agreed and started hunting with us.”

“I know that you are my boyfriend but when did we start dating?”

“Hitting me with the good questions, I like it. Well we were hunting together a few months, I had a major crush on you but I was too chicken to make a move. Then one night we were all at the bar and some guy was hitting on you. I knew than I never wanted to see you with someone else. So I just walked across the bar and got between you two. I leaned down and kissed you, you wrapped your arms around my neck and when we finally broke apart you looked up at me and said 'took you long enough'” he chuckled at the retelling.

“That sounds so romantic. I really thought that I would have remembered by now. I keep thinking that there has to be more that I can do. If Cas took down the wall why can't I remember.” You started crying, this time you didn't move away from Dean when he hugged you. He shifted onto the bed and held you while you cried. You eventually fell asleep in his arms. You woke up again still being held by him. To you it felt like home. You kept your eyes closed, breathing in his scent when you had a flash of a memory.

You and Dean were laying together in bed, you were both coming down from your orgasms when he looked down at you. “Y/n, I have never loved anyone the way I love you, I want you to be mine forever”. “Then I'm yours” you leaned up to kiss his lips softly before snuggling back against his chest.

You shot up for a second and Dean looked around the room scared. “Are you ok? What happened?”

“I think I remembered something.”

“What was it.”

“We were laying in bed and you told me that you had never loved anyone the way you love me. You said you wanted me to be yours forever and I told you that I'm all yours. Is that real? Did it really happen?”

“Yes! That was the first time I told you I loved you.” He said with tears in his eyes.

“I can't believe it. I'm starting to remember!!”

You jumped out of bed right away and ran down the hall.

“Sam!!!!”

He jumped up from the table in the library running to you. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, I remembered something!!”

He picked you up in a tight hug spinning you around. Then you started getting another flash, of Sam hugging and spinning you the same way after you beat Dean at pool.

“Wait! I remember you hugging me like this when I beat Dean! Right?”

“Yes, I was so excited someone finally kicked his ass for a change.”

You couldn't stop smiling. He set you down and you ran back over to Dean for a hug.

“My memory is coming back.” you whispered into his neck.

“I am so happy. Take it one day at a time. Eventually you will be able to remember everything.”

Another couple of weeks, you were still getting spontaneous flashes of memories. You and the boys in a shitty motel eating pizza, chopping off a vampires head, steamy sex in the back seat of the impala, staying up watching movies with Sam, hanging out with Cas in the library. Still nothing from your childhood or your parents. You were starting to think that those would never come back. You asked the boys if they knew how you got into hunting, they knew you were raised into it by you parents. They knew that you lost them both at some point but you had never told them how. One day you were walking down the hallway when you heard Sam and Dean talking.

“You think we should tell her, I mean if she remembers and we didn't tell her she could be upset.” Sam said.

“I will eventually, but she's just starting to come back to us. If she found out I think it will break her. Let's just wait.”

“Tell me what! What are you hiding from me. Did we break up, it that why I was at the bar? Tell me! I refuse to stay here and be lied to!”

Dean lowered his eyes to the ground. You could tell that he didn't want to tell you what they were talking about. You looked to Sam and he was avoiding your eyes too.

“You know what! Screw you both. If you can't even be honest with me I can't stay here!”

You turned to leave with tears streaming down your face. You went to your room and started packing. So what if you barely knew who you were. You weren't going to sit here with people who are lying to you. What could it be about. Maybe they had something to do with that night. Maybe they planned it to get rid of you and they only stayed with you because you survived, they must be waiting for you to remember before they kill you. Panic started rising in your throat. Your mind refused to stop coming up with different things that they could have done that was so bad they had to hide it from you. Dean came in the room and interrupted your packing.

“You cant leave, please. Let's talk. I'll tell you everything.”

He took you hand and led you to the bed. You could see the tears in his eyes, trying to break free and run down his cheeks. You sat there and waiting. When he started, his voice was choked.

“The doctor was telling us about your injuries that first day....he told us....he told...” and then he started sobbing. You were so surprised you didn't know what to do. You reached out and held him while he caught his breath finally. “He told us that you were pregnant when you were attacked. He told us that they couldn't save the baby....you were only 5 weeks along. He also said that there was a lot of damage, and he thinks it would be unlikely for your to get pregnant again.”

You stared at him for a second before you felt yourself scream. “Nooooooooo”. You sank to your knees on the floor sobbing, Dean knelt next to you holding you while you cried. It felt like hours later that he finally rose to his feet reaching down to pick you up. He laid you down on the bed and covered you with the blankets. You cried all night before you finally drifted off to sleep. When you woke up Dean was still there. He was staring at you and you could tell he didn't get any sleep.

“I'm so sorry, I should have told you sooner. I just didn't want to overwhelm you more.”

“Have they found the monster who did this to me?”

“The police said they have a few leads but nothing concrete. The plates were blacked out and the quality of the camera combined with the darkness of the parking lot makes it hard to get a clear view of his face.”

“I want to go back there. I know exactly what his face looks like. I'm going to find him and kill him. He took everything from me. My memories, my baby, and my chance to ever be a mother. I'm leaving today whether you're coming with me or not.”

You got up from the bed and started packing a bag. A hard look had settled in your eyes and Dean knew that nothing would stop you now. He went to go find Sam to tell him that you were going back to where it all happened. Dean didn't know how he would be able to handle being there, much less how you would. An hour later you were all on the road. You sat in the back seat staring out the window. No body knew what to say. You drifted off at some point and felt yourself back there, feeling helpless and humiliated. You jerked awake with a small yelp rising from you throat. They both asked if you were ok but you didn't answer. When you arrived in town you told them you wanted to stay at the same motel. You even got the same room and when you walked in, you got more and more flashes of memories, you remember the hunt and the days leading up to it. You remember the fight with Dean. And you remember leaving to the bar.

“I have to go back to the bar.” you told them.

“Absolutely not! You can't go back there.” Dean said.

“I'm not asking permission.” You went to the bathroom to changed before you were getting ready to walk out of the room.

“Well you sure as hell aren't going alone.” Dean said as he and Sam followed you out.

As soon as you walked into the bar you got more and more flashes of memory. You sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. You remember a guy walking up to you and offering to buy a drink. After you turned him down he put his hand on your thigh. You shoved him back hard causing him to stumbled and fall as you threw some money down. You got up and walked out, it was him. You heard him behind you only a second before you got hit. As you started remembering everything from that night you started having trouble breathing. Dean rushed over to you as soon as he noticed the state you were in. He hugged you close while your breathing slowed. You excused yourself to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face. When you came back out you saw him. He was just walking into the bar and you froze. You quickly texted Dean and told him and Sam to find a booth and just wait. You were going to draw him out.

You saw the anger in Dean's eyes as he looked at the door seeing the man who hurt you. But he did as you asked and he moved with Sam to a booth nearby. You took a deep breath to collect yourself before heading back to the bar. You ordered a double shot to calm yourself and before long you felt someone sit next to you. You turned to face him and your blood ran cold. You kept your game face on and turned back to your drink. You saw his face the second he recognized you, he kept waiting for you to say something but you just sipped your drink. You could tell he was nervous and he got up to leave quickly. You turned back to him before he could exit his seat, you reached for his arm and said quietly “hey, I was thinking of doing a shot but no one is here to do one with me. You want one? My treat.”

His eyebrows went up and you could tell he thought you didn't recognize him. He sat back down as your ordered two shots. He asked you what you were doing in a bar alone and you told him, “Well I have amnesia, I am here in town trying to jog my memory. I can't even remember my real name so you can call me Jane. That's what I've been going by.”

You could see a smirk on his face that made you sick but you kept your cool. He bought you another shot before asking if your wanted to get out of there. You told him why not, and that this would be your first time that you remember. He followed you out the door and didn't notice when Dean and Sam followed right after. You walked through the parking lot with him til he stopped at his van. That night started to come back in waves making it harder and harder to keep your cool. He opened the door and got in, reaching his hand out to you. You took it and climbed in after him. When he shut the door and turned around, you punched him in the face. He fell to the ground and you continued to punch him. He threw you off him and reached for a lead pipe. You were quicker when you reached for your knife in your back pocket. You stabbed in once in the neck before his hand even gripped the pipe. You stabbed him again in the chest and then the stomach. You stabbed him over and over til Sam and Dean opened the door and pulled you off him. You were drenched in blood when they pulled you out of the van. You had completely shut down. Sam went into the bar to sneak into the office. He erased the security tape while Dean took you back to the motel. He made sure no one was around when he pulled you out of the back seat. He led you into the room and straight to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and helped you get out of your blood soaked clothes. He then guided you into the shower, you still had the same blank expression on your face and you hadn't spoken a word. You just stood there while he cleaned you and washed your hair. Making sure to get ever last trace of blood off you. He dried you off and got you dressed in pajamas before leading you to the bed. You let him lay you down and cover you, but you just laid there. Starring straight ahead and not moving. Sam came in later with food and asked how you were.

“I don't know Sammy, she hasn't spoken or moved. She's just had this blank expression the whole time. I had to shower her, she wouldn't move. When I laid her down she just stayed there. She hasn't moved at all.” You could hear Dean's voice crack. Still I didn't affect you.

“She's probably in shock. Maybe we should call Cas?”

“Let's let her sleep tonight. Tom we will head back to the bunker. Maybe being home will help her. Did you delete the footage?”

“Yep, erased the entire night.”

Dean made his way over to you and took your hand. You didn't move or even acknowledge him. You just closed your eyes and laid there. The next morning you still hadn't moved. Dean helped you sit up and get dressed but that's all you would do. You wouldn't move to drink or eat at all. Dean gave Sam the keys to the Impala to drive you back to the bunker. Dean sat in back holding you. You still hadn't spoken and barely moved. When you finally arrived at the bunker, Dean carried you to your room. A little while later you heard Cas come in. He put his hand to your head for a moment, “you are right, she is still in shock. She has buried herself deep inside her psyche. She is right now in a room holding a baby and smiling. I think being there with him again brought everything back from that night. It seems like she has retreated into herself. Keep talking to her. And just give her time to find her way back on her own.”

Two days later you still hadn't moved. Sam hooked you up to an IV with saline to at least keep you hydrated. They knew the next step would be a feeding tube. Dean couldn't take it anymore.

“Sam get the African Dream root, I need to bring her out. I can't keep waiting.”

Sam knew Dean was right. He didn't want to have to try and insert a feeding tube in you just to keep you alive. He brought the drink in while Dean laid down on the bed next to you. He drank it quickly before waking up in your dream. Upon seeing it he understood why you didn't want to leave. He saw you laying on the floor next you a baby, maybe 3 months old. The baby was starring out you making all sorts of noises and you were looking at it with such love his heart broke. He slowly walked up to you.

“Y/n, I know that it seems easier in here. There's no pain here. And you have our beautiful child. But it's not real. Real is out there. I know you lost a lot, but you still have me. And I can't lose you. I love you and I need you. You make me a better man, and a better hunter. I know that I let you down by not protecting you from that monster. But I swear, I will never let you down again. I know losing our baby hurt you, I know, because it hurt me too. I didn't even know it existed and I was still heart broken when I found out. I can only imagine how you feel. But please....please, I need you to come back to me. I need you. And who cares what the doctors say, I believe in miracles. We can keep trying, we will try as long as you want. I will do everything in my power to give you everything you need in life and so much more. Please wake up and come back to us.”

You turned your head slowly to Dean. The man you loved and you felt all of is love wash over you, healing your pain as it did.

You slowly blinked your eyes open and saw Sam sitting next to your bed. You turned you head and saw Dean blinking next to you. You pulled him towards your bringing his lips to yours. Then you looked over to Sam and reached your hand towards him. He grasped your hand with a tear sliding down his cheek. You saw an IV in your arm and wanted to know what happened but you didn't ask. Because in that moment all you felt was hunger.

“Who's a girl gotta kill to get some food around here?” you asked causing Sam to giggle.

“Anything you want is yours.” Dean said.

“I could really go for a Dean burger right now. Extra bacon.”

Dean smiled and kissed your lips before leaving the room.

“So how are you really?” Sam asked.

“Been better, but I think that I'm finally starting to heal. I remember everything. As soon as I woke up I remembered my entire life. Dean brought me back. And I have never felt so lucky to have him. I know he is going to keep blaming himself, and I'm going to keep telling him it's not his fault. Thank you Sammy, for being here for me.” you glanced up at his teary eyes.

He pulled you in close for a tight hug. “You are the best sister I could ever ask for. I will never let anything happen to you again.”

Dean came back in.. “Who's ready for burgers!”

3 Years Later

You sat in the bathroom with 4 tests face down on the sink. You had been feeling exhausted and sick the last week and you were 2 weeks late. You held your breath as you turned the tests over at the same time. All came up positive. One has a plus, two with 2 lines, and one that just said 5 to 6 weeks pregnant. You couldn't control the sob that came from your throat. You gathered the tests before heading out to find Dean. He was sitting in the library with Sam and he looked up as soon as you walked in. You could see his eyes shift to concern when he saw you were crying.

“What's wrong, are you ok?” he asked.

“I'm fine. But I have to tell you something...” you held up the 4 tests for a second before comprehension filled his eyes.

“Are you serious?!!” Dean all but shouted.

“Care to fill me in?” Sam asked from the other side of the table.

“You're going to be an Uncle!!!!” you screamed.

He shot up from his seat and ran around the table. Picking you up in a tight hug and spinning you around. When he set you down he turned to Dean, tear filling both their eyes. They hugged each other in a bone crushing embrace.

“I'm so happy for you Dean,” he said with his hand still on Dean's shoulder. “I'm free to babysit anytime you need me!”

[hoe-imaginess]

Dabi NSFW headcanons I... need them...

I… also… need them… here… have like… forty…

Dabi

•Ok Dabi doesn’t stfu when he’s having sex. He dirty talks SO much. He can’t keep it down for even ten seconds before he’s opening his mouth to say some shit. “You gonna cum?” “You like that?” “Beg for it” “That’s fuckin’ good” “Keep it up, don’t stop” Just be quiet Dabi

•He lives for his partner’s moans and groans. If you’re quiet in bed you better learn to make some noise because he hates quiet sex

•He gets off on being deepthroated and if you can’t deepthroat, he’s going to teach you how lmao. He demands you to keep your throat open, swallow his dick down, hold it, get used to the feeling, don’t come up for air until he tells you, etc. He keeps at it until you’re a dick-sucking pro and your gag reflex is non-existent 

•But on the other hand, he does like hearing you gag on his cock so really what does he want? What IS the truth Dabi???

•Hickies. Alllll over the place. He has a bad habit of sucking on your neck until it hurts and even then, he won’t stop. Sucking and biting on necks just really turns him on? His dick gets hard from doing that alone. He doesn’t care if anyone sees the hickies on you either. None of their business 

•Expect his sexual needs to come and go. One week he may not want sex at all and will completely brush you off. Then suddenly he’s ready to screw you from dusk til dawn. He’s difficult to read 

•Far from the king of aftercare. He’ll bend you over and fuck your brains out and afterward leave you sprawled out on the bed to dry like a wet towel

•Ok maybe that’s too harsh. He’ll at least sit back with you and ask, “You good?” just to make sure he didn’t go overboard. But he’s not going to like… curl up with you and take a post-coital cuddly nap, basically. His aftercare is chill, and usually consists of teasing you or just lazing around with you

•He gets turned on by arguing. Even if it’s just petty, bantering arguments that are clearly meant to frustrate you. Honestly if you smack him in anger, he’s ready to fuck you on the spot. He just thinks it’s funny that you get so mad, and that you think you’re tough enough to do something about it (even if you are)

•Other than that, the weirdest, most random things get him hard. You’re sitting in the corner of the room, alone, to yourself, minding your own business? That’s annoying. Don’t be so quiet. Now he has to fuck you to wipe that blank look off your face 

•Honestly he loves a fuck buddy that’s normally quiet/timid/reserved ok. It makes it all the more amusing and satisfying when he makes them moan and scream in the bedroom. So yeah, if you’re sitting around acting more distant than usual it’s gonna give him ideas lmao

•He rarely ever gets all the way naked for sex, since he’s mostly into clothed, sporadic quickies 

•As kinky as Dabi is, he’s honestly not a *sex freak*. He almost never fantasizes about sex throughout the day. Doesn’t find porn sexy, doesn’t look at magazines. Even if his partner is wearing a skimpy outfit he’s like eh, whatever. That sort of stuff just doesn’t do anything for him??

•He pretty much demands eye contact when he’s getting a blowjob. He needs to see your watery eyes staring up at him while you suck his dick

•When he makes you have a shaking orgasm with his dick inside you, he’s not the type to keep fucking you through it. He stops to enjoy the view and feeling of you going all tight around his dick. But then of course he’ll keep fucking you right afterwards because he likes to mess with you when you’re hypersensitive 

•Lip kissing with Dabi is reserved for extremely intense sex sessions (rough or passionate) or when he wants to tease you. Again, he likes being a bit of a teacher in the bedroom, so if he has to teach you to make out correctly (which to him, is lip biting and lots of tongue) then he will. Which is pretty hot. If you’re too timid to get all hot and messy, he practically demands that you open your mouth so he can give you a lil tongue 

•(Who knows how he feels about his partner getting all adventurous around his lips? They may be off limits because of the scarring but?? Idk?? He’s allowed to bite lips and get all wild, but maybe his partner isn’t?? It’s a mystery. He may not want anyone near his lips at all tbh? ANYWAYS.) 

•Otherwise, during sex, his lips are usually on your neck and throat to give you the hot and wild hickies. When he’s not leaning back to watch his dick pound in and out of you, his face is just buried in your neck 

•Dabi isn’t picky, he likes tits of all shapes and sizes. Tits are tits. But if you do happen to have great tits, then please guard them with your life bc he will bite and suck them like a starved man. And grab a handful and squeeze until he makes you squeal. Someone needs to tell him that they’re sensitive and delicate, and not stress balls (maybe squeezing titty is his own version of a stress ball?? damn we really figured him out huh)

•He rarely goes down on his partner because 1. he’s a selfish prick and 2. he saves it for when he wants to really reward you/wreck you. Because honestly, that tongue is AMAZING. He knows how to work it and he knows you go crazy for it

•He’s a hair puller to a dangerous degree. He’s always yanking his partner’s head back by the hair. Obviously it’s easier for him and less painful for you if your hair is longer. If you have a ponytail, that’s an added bonus. He loves pulling on a ponytail while he’s fucking you from behind

•Will 100% slap your clit when he’s feeling sadistic

•Will also spank your ass raw without hesitation 

•OK but despite his liking for rough and kinky sex, he doesn’t get off on anything too bdsm. He’s not into utterly tormenting his partner. He’s not that brutal

•I say that yet he burns people to a crisp whenever he’s bored wow kajshdfkajsdh but villain-y stuff and sex stuff is different alright. He’ll kill a guy that bumps into him at the grocery store but he’s not going to like, cripple you during sex. Sure he’ll slap you around and give you some bruises and probably make you bleed when he’s rough, but he’s not looking to completely obliterate you. Because then he can’t fuck you properly next time obviously

•Oh and he’ll choke you for sure but not always hard enough to suffocate you

•He’s unfortunately a pull-out method extraordinaire. He just doesn’t like condoms. But because Dabi also likes creampies, if you can get knocked up, he’ll bug you about birth control so he can cum inside

•Disappointing, but Dabi usually has quiet orgasms. No loud moans or yells or shouts. He cusses a lot when he’s about to cum though

•Unless he’s getting good head: then you might get a deep, sexy groan and some panting, or one of those punch-to-the-gut grunts

•Oh and yes: sex with him is wild in a certain sense but not like… WILD? Because of the stitches and staples. If he moves too much, he’s just gonna bleed everywhere. He won’t be eager to try all kinds of different positions because of that. Usually for him it’s step 1. bend you over whatever is closest and step 2. fuck you. Still, expect him to be wiping away a drop of blood every now and then whenever you guys are done

[genderfluidfuckernamedfox]

The Witch is Sealed

chapter 2   

A/N:  I don’t really have a schedule for this series but I just wanted to get what I have so far out there. I feel that the pace is too fast for the whole story but it’s my first fanfic so I’m trying not to be to hard on myself about that. Any likes/ comments are greatly appreciated. thanks for reading.   

This is a short chapter with 50/50 fluff and angst.  

the gif is not mine. 

“I think we have a witch hunter problem on our hands.”

Al's POV

It felt like lightning was flowing through my veins, an unstoppable force was lying within my soul. I felt the cold rain prick my skin as I ran out into the woods. Freedom, this is what it feels like. Running without a care, feigning my immortality. In these moments I am free. Free to wander the Earth and truly lose myself. I charge through miles of forest, I don’t know where I’m going but I always end up around the same place. A wall of warm visible light that glows with a purple hue, this is the border of my world. I’ve never been outside and I am suddenly reminded of my limitation. How mortal I really am, if I could even be considered that. We’re all just caged birds in here. The rain draws me back to reality as it starts to lighten up. I feel uneasy at the lack of its presence when I’m around here. I should walk back home but I linger for a moment longer. Finally I turn to leave. I’m only a few feet away when I feel a strange rumble. The ground shaking as the light from the wall flickers in one concentrated spot. I can’t believe my eyes, there was an opening being created by something on the other side. I could see blurred figures that started to surround the area. Once a space was opened and the wall was breached, I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I locked eyes with a man twice the size of me, a silver knife clearly attached to his belt. As he stepped through the veil I lost my breath and all sense of being. Run I screamed in my head Run! But my feet remained sealed to the ground. I noticed that the gap in the wall was slowly starting to close. I looked out to the other side and I saw a cloaked figure who was bound in chains. I knew then that they had opened this wall with magic. I was furious, how could they do this? Humans are the worst. I knew that I had to get them to leave. It’s my time to fight, I’ll die before I let these people attack my home, my family, my friends. I’d gladly lay my life down for Y/n and Namjoon any day. The thought of protecting them gave my the strength I needed to move. I can’t run, I have to fight. He charged at me with full speed.Spells Al, use a defense spell. I concentrated my energy into a stun spell, Warmth flowed through my body out towards my hand sparking at my fingertips and as I felt it begin to burn I threw the ball of energy at him, hitting him in the chest. It should have paralyzed him but to my dismay the energy flowed right off of him, I’d never seen a protection spell as strong as this one before. Well that’s just cheating I thought to myself. He smiled wickedly at me now closer and taking advantage of my shocked state he landed a punch on my face. Blood spewed from my mouth as a bruise began to form, I should feel pain but the only thing I can feel now is rage. And it was that pure unadulterated rage that sent me speeding towards him to land as many punches as I could. Two to the face and three to the chest his eye was swollen and he coughed as I knocked the wind out of him for good measure I sent a kick to his groin successfully knocking him onto the ground. Triumphant would be a word to describe what I feel right now but before I can even smile at my small victory the man starts laughing. Confused I look at him waiting for an explanation as to what was so humorous. It was then that he pulled out his knife, successfully slicing into my arm. I tried to choke back a scream as I felt the blade rip into my skin. The sun was setting and the opening at the border was closing. I’ll be damned if I let this fucker invade my home. Clutching my upper arm to stop the bleeding I stood up straight ready to fight. I won’t underestimate him this time 

“Bring it on fatty.” I spit out, this seemed to really anger him. He came at me again with the knife but seemed less coordinated than the last time. I used this to my advantage quickly putting an enchantment onto his knife. The next time he swung it the form of the knife changed into that of a snake. He immediately screamed and dropped the creature, I laughed. His face was red with anger 

“Fucking freak!” he screamed at me, the smile on my face dropped. I’ve unarmed him, now all that’s left to do is get him to leave, now the question is how? If I run he’ll chase me. With no other idea as how to get him out of here without killing him I charged towards the border. Aiming for the opening I looked behind me to see if he had followed. Luck was on my side today as he was quickly catching up to me. At the last moment before I hit the wall I dropped to the ground and rolled off to the side. Once he had ran past me I jumped to my feet and started to cast an enchantment on the wall to close the hole back up. It was weaker than the rest of the wall but that should keep anyone from getting through for a while. Exhausted I fall to the ground light headed, the world now spinning I lay my head down on a patch of soft grass, I exhale and the world goes black. 

Pain is the only sensation I can recognize, it’s pain that wakes me. The night sky is filled with clouds black as ash and lightning dances it’s way across the darkness. I’m on the ground. I recognize this part of the forest. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I cover the gash on my arm. I can’t heal myself here but I can stop the bleeding. A very basic healing spell is all I can muster before I feel like passing out again. Thunder cracks and rain finally starts to pour down onto me feeling like sweet, sweet relief. I stand up and start to jog my way home I’m out of breath but I keep moving, I can’t stop til I’m home. Not til I’m back with Y/n and Joonie, with that thought I ran as fast as I could back our little cabin in the woods.                             

Y/N's POV

After filling you in on the details of their attack their voice turned stern and defensive 

“They have someone with magic. Y/n, they broke through the barrier, only someone with really developed skills can do that. Someone as powerful as the council! And now a bunch of crazy people trying to kill us have the power to do so.” They looked so scared but determination soon took over their features. “We need to rescue who ever they have captured, if we take away their only source of magic they have no chance in a fight with us.” Namjoon suddenly opened the door, having listened in on the conversation. 

“You can't do that.” He stated calmly, Al began to fume. 

“Like hell I can't, just try to fucking stop me.” Namjoon then grabbed them by the arms, careful to avoid their wound. 

“Al you have to listen to me, think about this logically… Please.” His little plea made their shoulders relax somewhat as they nodded, motioning for him to continue. “We don't know what we're going up against, if we went after them right now that would be suicide. What if they have more of our people held captive? We don't even know why they turned up out of the blue trying to hurt us. This is something that we need to take to the higher ups... We need to take this to the council.” The small bathroom fell silent as the air around you thickened. You all knew he was right, there wasn't much you could do at this point. You don’t know the enemy or what they want. You don’t know what they are capable of or who is on their side. You’re just three college kids, what power do you posses to stop a possible army? Sighing you were the first one to leave the bathroom

 “Joonie, come on let's leave Al so they can wash up before bed” you said gently tugging him away from Al. He seemed reluctant to let go, but soon found comfort in your arms, smiling down at you. It was a sad smile though, one of worry. You needed to lighten the mood desperately. “We’ll go to the council first thing in the morning. Promise, but I know for a fact that we both have potions homework; we slept the whole day away while we were supposed to be doing that.” He snaps his fingers suddenly remembering and goes to get the assignment from his bag. The two of you sit down in the living room. Papers sprawled out across the wooden coffee table a comfortable silence laid over you while doing homework and waiting for Al to get out of the shower. Once they emerge from the bathroom their form is shorter and more feminine, their eyes down cast as they lazily dry their hair with a towel. They look cute with an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of black shorts. Namjoon suddenly can't focus on the assignment as he blatantly stares at them. You had figured out by now that Namjoon was attracted to Al when they we're in this form. It hurt at first, you really liked him, still do, but in retrospect you love them both too much to do anything about nasty feelings that want to bubble to the surface, feelings for either of them. Namjoon closes his book and put his pens away. 

“I think that's enough studying for one night Y/n. We're practically finished.” You nod putting your stuff away also. You're the first one to Al, seeing their eyes filled with grief and something that seemed like regret. You know they want to save whoever the witch hunters have locked up. You wanted to put them at ease, Namjoon too. 

“Hey let's all sleep in my bed tonight. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't want to be alone right now.” They both nodded and you lead the way to your bedroom. The three of you ended up squishing together on your queen sized bed. Namjoon with his back pressed against the wall, you in the middle, and Al at the end of the bed. They cuddled into you as Namjoon wrapped an arm around you both. You sighed with content, it was moments like these that bad guys didn't matter, nothing did because you had these two beside you. 

“I love you.” You said to no one in particular. They both responded, Al first. 

“I love you too sweetie.” They smiled brightly and kissed your forehead.

“And I love you too, baby. Now get some sleep before this get any more embarrassing.” Namjoon quipt as heat radiated off his cheeks with a shy smile. This was how you wanted things to always be. You wanted to be their sweetie, their baby. If every night were spent like this you'd be fine. Minus the getting attacked part. With that thought at the forefront of your mind you found sleep to be rather elusive eventually drifting off into a restless slumber.

[get-a-new-lease-on-life]

A New Lease on Life -  #52, Absolutes pt. 1

52: Absolutes 1 - Crossing Worlds is Impossible

Return to Willsdale, Part 1/4.

A disclaimer for this chapter, Folks. I normally make a habit of confronting the proverbial elephants in the room in this story and especially focus on acknowledging the gritty and unpleasant sides of reality to balance out the fluffy mushy stuff, but this one has more than usual. Honestly, it's liable to upset a few folks, but I stand by it…and, unfortunately, it's true.

There's a lot to be loved about Missouri, especially southern Missouri and the Ozark Mountains, but there's a lot of unpleasant stuff here, too. I've been all over this state and have yet to find a single part of it that doesn't reek from agriculture and idiots cooking meth. The weather's unpredictable and the people even more so. The list of embarrassments goes on forever, but just like it, so does the list of positives—we have the most biologically diverse ecosystem of any US state, and our conservation department is rated among the highest. There are plenty of ignorant hicks, but there are just as many—if not MORE—honest, genuine, and amiable people to be found among them. Despite the difficulties we face from calling this state home—high heat and humidity, crazy weather, rocky dirt and susceptibility to tornadoes, droughts, floods, earthquakes, AND fallout-storms from hurricanes hitting the Gulf, AND at least one (inactive) volcano—many who call this state home do so by choice rather than by necessity—we live here, love here, and thrive here against all odds.

Anyhoo. That said, when you read the unpleasant sides of Willsdale—unpleasant sides common to many Missouri small towns AND much of the state—please also keep in mind the positives you'll also read. Don't let the ugly stuff scare you off—if you give MO a chance to prove herself, by gor, she will. She IS the "Show-Me State" after all, and this chapter's dedicated to her. ;)

Lastly, the next four chapters are going to be way more OC-centric than previous ones—the only canon you'll be seeing for the most part is Donnie and you're mostly going to be seeing Amber and her family. Those are the primary reasons these chapters have been a PitA to get cranked out quickly enough. These chapters ARE, unfortunately, vital to the ongoing plot-line and will provide answers to a few ongoing questions, so please be patient. As of Chapter 56, we'll be back to the usual routine and variety. That said, hope y'all enjoy!

Check out the official "Return to Willsdale" playlist on Spotify!

Suggested Listening: The Rasmus "No Fear," Nickelback "Far Away"

Another world, Willsdale, Missouri

Day 1

The first thing to register was blindingly bright light; the second was an unparalleled stench that tripped Donnie's gag reflex. By the time he was sure exhaling wouldn't lead to vomiting, the yawning portal behind them was fading into crumbling, soot-stained brick. At his side, Amber cringed, her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Crime-in-it'ly!"~ she swore clapping both hands over her nose and mouth. "I don't remember it smellin' this bad!"

"This place normally stinks?" Don asked dubiously through his own hand.

"Unfortunately," Amber admitted with a wince, "yeah. Willsdale's a farmin' town, an' the state it's in is often called the 'meth capital of the country.' The Missouri Ozarks are a beautiful an' amazing place, but there're enough morons cookin' crank to make the whole state reek." Still grimacing from the oppressive odor in the air, she warily scanned their surroundings for any sign they were spotted. Nothing—no one was in the area as she expected, and the area was far too remote for anyone to ever be nearby—but one thing was definitely off about the area dappled with sunlight from above and shadow from neighboring trees.

In utter disbelief, she stared at the ruins around them—barely visible concrete foundations, a few scattered stones, a pile of moldering wooden shake siding… "What happened to this place?" she muttered as she wandered around inspecting the faint remnants of the former residence. "This ain't right…there was still a whole wall left last I saw—an' that pile'a wood was a shed, still half-standin'! What—" Having turned a full circle, she fell short, staring in befuddlement at the queasy mutant half-crumpled in front of the only standing remnant of the long-burned cabin: the fireplace. "Oi," Amber muttered with a crooked grin. "Harry Potter, eat yer heart out!"

"Really, Amber?" Donnie muttered dryly. "You seriously went there?"

"Well, someone had to," she teased with a shit-eating grin, but that grin faded into confusion as she scanned their fog-hung surroundings more closely. "Still," she remarked approaching the stand of trees just beyond the ruins. "Somethin' just ain't right here…" As Donnie slowly acclimated to the stinking, humid air and wandered over to her, the brunette solemnly came to a stop at the base of an odd tree. Sharp, menacing thorns littering the trunk and branches, palmate branches of odd round leaves, long bunches of small pinkish-white blooms dangling like grapes on the vine…she reached up and caught one of the bunches in her fingertips, easily twisting off a single tiny bloom.

"This is…this is a Black Locust," she muttered, face pinched in bewilderment as she inspected it closely. "But…but they—it shouldn't—!" Before Donnie could get out a single word, she bolted—sprinting through the thick tree-cover off into the distance with a surety of step that only living in the hills could bring.

"Amber, wait!" he called out taking off in pursuit. Even with the way well-lit, he struggled to find his footing—the earth was hilly and rocky, thick with years' worth of fallen leaves and debris and marshy from recent rains. It seemed every step he stumbled over a rock, a hole, an up-thrust tree root, or even just an uneven patch of turf. "Amber, slow down—hold up!"

Unhearing, drowning in dismay and disbelief, Amber sprinted through the close-growing Locust trees, ducking thorny branches and side-stepping fallen limbs. All around her were signs she recognized—signs that made no sense considering how much time had passed since her death. The massive grove of Black Locust trees was almost a carpet of pale, pendulous blooms, interspersed with flowering Pawpaws and pink-decked Redbuds. Fog hung heavy along the ground, every now and then interrupted by blooming umbrella-shaped may-apples. Off in the distance, familiar wildlife called—woodpeckers hammering and knocking, the musical trilling of Gray Tree Frogs, the raspy comb-striking bark of a grey fox posturing for its mate—No…no, this couldn't be, it wasn't possible, it—

"Amber!" Donnie's sudden shout finally broke the horrified brunette from her thoughts and she turned to acknowledge him. The very sight of him, scratched and bleeding from the thorny trees and slightly limping from a possibly cramping ankle, reminded her that he wasn't used to the terrain—he was used to the city and this hilly, rocky deathtrap she was familiar with wasn't easy for non-natives to navigate.

"Sorry," she muttered carefully picking a few stick-weed seeds and bramble twigs from his suspenders and mask. "Something doesn't make sense, Dee…I don't understand it." He waited patiently, for once unable to fill in the blanks she left him. "Black Locusts, May-Apples, Pawpaws, an' Redbuds bloomin', tree frogs singin'…"* She scoffed scanning the overgrown tree stand around her. "None'a that happens 'til late spring, early summer, but when we left home, it was late fall! I've been in yer world about ten months, Dee, it should be about February, here! There ought'a be ice-storms all over the place an' it ought'a be too cold fer much to be bloomin'!" A pair of strong hands latched onto her shoulders, grounding her.

"Honey," Donatello reminded gently, "breathe." It took a moment to see his point, during which she could do nothing but stare at him in dismay, but she finally conceded. "Now," the mutant continued in a low, calming tone, "maybe time moves differently between different worlds. What exactly has you so worried about us arriving in Spring?" She avoided his eyes, glancing nervously to the patches of hazy sky visible between the trees overhead.

"If…If I'm readin' all this right," she explained, "then it's probably May…" Haunted green eyes met Donnie's again. "Willsdale's smack-dab in the middle'a tornado alley, Dee, an' May's the middle'a the first tornado season!"

"Wait, the first one?" he asked finally releasing her.

"Yeah." Amber reached up to her shoulder to latch onto one of her braids, only to remember she left her hair in a tail instead of braiding it, and her hand instead fell to tightly grip her opposite wrist. "Officially there's only one season, Spring, but unofficially there's a second, shorter one in Fall—anytime ya got enough hot an' cold air collidin' durin' the transitional seasons, ya got a chance of tornadoes. I'm…Dee, I'm not ready fer another May yet…"

The unspoken, hidden between the lines out of embarrassment and shame, hit Donnie like a sucker punch. "May fifteenth," he muttered under his breath, unable to meet her eyes. "You died on May fifteenth." He tugged at his neck. "Surely we didn't…arrive before then? –or shortly after?"

"No," Amber acknowledged weakly. "World-hoppin's weird enough, no way can time travel be possible. That's just ridiculous…but so's the idea that I've only been dead a few weeks." She shuddered at the very thought and turned to lead him up a steep forested hill to the North. "Aaron's place isn't far, just outwith~ the edges of the Locust grove…if we haul-arse, we'll make it out in no time. Stay close an' ya won't stumble as much." After only a few paces through the underbrush, a harsh, raspy chittering noise split the air echoing as though coming from every direction—something almost like a dog coughing, rapid-fire scoffs interspersed with wheezing ku-ku-ku-KWAAAY-KWAAAY calls. Several more followed in swift succession from seemingly every direction and Donnie nervously scanned the surrounding area for the source.

"What on earth?" Donnie muttered, his brow furrowed in irritated confusion. "That's an annoying bird call!"

"'S not birds," Amber explained with a teasing smile. "Jus' squirrels cussin'. Ya never gotten bawled out by a squirrel before?" It took a moment for him to register that she was teasing him, then he gave a sheepish grin.

"Not really – they're usually only in parks, and we don't exactly fit in in the parks." Shortly afterward, they reached the crest of the hill and drew up short. As far as the eye could see, the land bucked and dipped with tall hills, some heavy with trees and others nearly bare of vegetation; between each hill stretched low valleys hung with thick misty fog. About a mile to the northwest lay Willsdale proper centered on the Town Square and surrounded on every side by sprawling farmland and rippling, jutting hills and hollers. Most remarkable of all, up on that hilltop as Amber and Donnie were, they seemed on top of the very world—almost high enough to reach out and touch the blistering surface of the star just above them.

"They say that he got crazy, once, and he tried to touch the sun." Amber's voice, relating borrowed words from her last lifetime, was hushed with wonder. "John Denver was singin' 'bout Colorado, but the meanin's the same here—when the sun rises over the bluffs an' sets over the knobs an' hollers, it seems close enough to reach without the aid of wax wings."

"So this is your home," Donatello remarked in quiet awe. "It's…it's incredible…and it seems almost—almost familiar…"

Amber hesitated a moment, debating asking for an explanation, but ended up deciding against it. "See that white box at the edge of the trees?" she pointed out instead. Donnie nodded, his eyes quickly fixing on a small structure flanked by two smaller outbuildings; it wasn't far off, maybe half a mile away. "That's Aaron's place—we should be there in about fifteen minutes tops if we follow the path right." As they made their way down the steep side of the hilltop, though, Amber's thoughts weren't so much on Donnie or Aaron as on the world they were now in. 'Well O'Brien,' she thought to herself with a slightly snide expression that made Donnie blink in confusion. 'Welcome home…try not ta gitcher arse killed this time.'

The last time Amber was in the dark, shabby trailer home, she, Mercy, and Aaron Willis were piled around his living room with takeout and the two blonds were engaged in a particularly vicious Halo match. That was a lifetime ago—New Year's Eve of 2010, if she recalled correctly—and the room was entirely different. Before, the room was full of clutter but clean; now it reeked of dirty cat-boxes, cheap beer, household garbage, and unwashed bodies and laundry. Other than the towering shelves of water-spotted game cases, the furniture, and an old, cheaply-made flatscreen TV, the room was unusually empty...perhaps, she considered, because Aaron's trailer received heavy damage from the two storms that ended her life in Willsdale. If his belongings were destroyed, he wouldn't have been able to replace much of it; he was among the stubborn sort who believed maintaining insurance was a sure-fire way to end up needing it, then suffered for it when shit hit the fan anyway.

Though he never admitted it aloud, Donatello was appalled, partly because the back door was unlocked and propped open, partly because he saw no less than three cats lounging on the sofa alone, and partly because of the state of the mobile home. Empty beer cans lined the surface of the coffee table like sloppy soldiers blowing a surprise inspection. Empty pizza boxes and beer cartons were stacked on top of the trashcan. Dirty clothes littered the floors and draped over furniture. Amber froze in the doorway to the living room, her eyes instantly locking on the unmoving lump sprawled across the sofa half-buried in cats and a familiar black afghan.

Aaron. Amber hesitated, one foot on the kitchen's grubby peeling linoleum, one foot on the living room's gritty stained carpet, stunned by the sight of her dear friend fallen so far. Finally, she got herself together and crept forward, a cautious glance reminding Donnie to stay in the shadows. "Hey, Numb-Nuts," she greeted the fluffy black tomcat, reaching out to teasingly pat its backside; when it snorted and began ignoring her—his way of accepting her presence—she turned to scratch the perpetually-itchy cheeks of the twin calicoes curled up on the nearer armrest and the couch occupant's hip. "Asshat, Assbutt, you two been takin' care'a Daddy for me?"

"Why're you insulting the cats?" Donnie whispered.

"I'm not," she answered with a cringe. "Those're actually their names…Aaron's a piece'a work.# There should be three more around here somewhere—Kirk's probably patrolling for mice an' Barf-Breath an' Dillweed are a lil' wary of strangers."

"I can't imagine why," the genius muttered in derision. "With a name like that, I'd hide too." Amber rolled her eyes at him—a gesture he interpreted as something like 'preachin' to the choir'—and reached out to shake the shoulder of the body curled up on the sofa.

"Aaron." No response—of course, he stank of stale beer and old vomit, so she wasn't too surprised. She shuddered to think how he managed to reach this point—a level the awkward country boy only ever sunk to after his stepfather died and left Aaron, his mother, and his younger sisters deep in debt and even deeper in medical bills. "Aaron, please wake up."

No response from the man passed out on the sofa. Amber carefully peeled the afghan away from his face only to recoil in disgust; his reddish winter beard was long-since grown into full-on mountain man and his blond corkscrew curls were greasy and matted. 'I take it back,' she considered amidst the aching of her heart, 'he's never been this bad—even after Ron died he still bathed every now and then.' These were desperate times for Aaron Willis…and desperate times called for desperate measure. "Willis! I brought yer favorite pizza an' it's got pickles on it!"

The result was instantaneous. Off-kilter blue eyes shot open wide and their owner gasped in horror, nearly sending Donnie through the roof. Without so much as stopping to grab his perpetually-bent glasses, Aaron vaulted off the sofa, got tangled up in the afghan and hit the floor, fought free, and took off for the dark kitchen like a shot. In the doorway he slowed to a stop, silently taking in the empty room that didn't even remotely smell of pizza; his shoulders slumped, his face fell, and to Amber's complete disbelief, his eyes welled up. The sound of his fist impacting the wall rang through the air; Aaron crumpled to the floor, choking. Without a second thought, Amber stalked toward him and did precisely what she'd been longing to since the last time she dreamed about him: she whacked him upside the head.

"Aaron Elvin Willis!" she barked as he turned to her in absolute disbelief. "What'd I tell yer arse about gettin' tanned~ alone?! Ya can't hold yer liquor worth shite—ya stink'a~ vomit!" Aaron gaped at her, silent, disbelieving; his eye darted around the room, perhaps searching for some proof he was dreaming, then landed on her again, wide and bewildered.

"Amb…O'Brien?" After the false start, the name was soft, hushed, almost reverent despite the disbelief.

"Naw," she scoffed pointedly. "I'm the ghost'a Scotch-snobs past, here ta skelp yer arse fer drinkin' without me. Yes it's me, ya honkin' mink!~" For a moment, nothing happened—Aaron stared at her in disbelief, soaking in the sight of her as though expecting her to vanish into thin air. Finally, he reacted…by poking her in the arm. Unsurprised, Amber crossed her arms, arched an eyebrow at him, and waited for the inevitable freakout when she didn't vanish right before his eyes. The realization that his fingertip impacted something solid was followed by a cascade of emotions playing across his face—joy, fear, despair, then, finally, determination.

Amber would later realize that determined glint in his eyes should have warned her about his intents; for the moment, she was taken completely by surprise, both by his sudden launching himself to his feet and the equally sudden way he planted his lips on hers, latching onto her like he'd never let go. Sputtering and cringing from the feel of his greasy beard and the smell of old vomit and older beer clinging to his clothing, Amber frantically pushed at his chest. Finally, satisfied that she was actually there, he relented and backed away a pace. Massive paws gripping her arms with surprising gentleness, he drew his eyes from hers down to her feet then back up again, reassuring himself that she was unharmed.

"How's this possible?" he asked as she led him back over to the sofa to sit. "Amber, how're ya here? You—ya died! We buried ya!"

"It's a long story," Amber admitted nervously brushing a stray tendril of hair back behind her ear.

"I've got time."

The explanation seemed simple in her head; in reality, it took the better part of an hour. By the time everything was in the clear, Donnie's presence was revealed, and Aaron was off to get himself cleaned up, the sun was beginning its slow descent. His initial return was greeted by a startled shout from Donnie. "Don't diss the white 'fro," Aaron grumbled smushing his bouffant blonde curls flat to his head; in defiance, the locks sprang right back up again. His already dry hair stood out almost straight, surrounding his head with a frizzy woolly puff the size of an inflated beach ball.##

"...right..."

Now, clean if not clean-shaven, the blond stood silently in the doorway, good eye locked on the woman silently loading his dishwasher. "Yer really here," he muttered shuffling over to help her. "I thought��well, ya know what I thought." Amber uttered a wordless sound of agreement and gave him a fond smile. "Ya look different…younger, healthier…" He hazarded a quick once-over and his nose crinkled in distaste. "...skinnier..."

"The body I snatched is younger an' healthier." She shrugged. "Kimber dropped out, ran away, an' joined a gang, but she never got hit by a minivan. Ya win some, ya lose some, right?"

From the doorway, Donatello studied the older man curiously, particularly curious about the blond's pale blue eyes—eyes that were visibly trained on different targets. The genius didn't realize he was caught looking until Aaron turned toward him, pointedly focusing first one eye on him, then the other, then going back again in a 'shifting' motion. Ruddy brown streaked across Donnie's cheeks in embarrassment and he averted his gaze to the floor. "Sorry," the mutant mumbled awkwardly. "Amber never mentioned you have Strabismus…I just wasn't expecting it."^ Aaron smirked, clearly amused by the other's embarrassment over something that didn't really bother him.

"I didn't think it mattered," Amber remarked pausing to elbow Aaron in the side in reminder of his promise to be at least halfway polite. "It's not like he's blind in one eye or something." To her disbelief, the blond blanched, turning to haul another load of plates out of the sink. The Aaron she knew would have had a dozen smartass remarks to follow up with and wouldn't have hesitated to use any; this Aaron was hiding something and she knew exactly what that was. "What?!" she demanded bodily turning him to face her again. "When'd that happen?! When I died ya could still see out'a yer right eye!"

"It was a'ready goin' to shit when ya died, O'Brien," Aaron grumbled at his upset friend. "'bout a year'n a half ago it finished the job." Amber stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion, and shook her head in denial, and Aaron busied himself with breaking down the boxes piled next to the trashcan.

"How's that possible?" Amber asked quietly, glancing to Donnie for confirmation. "That can't be—I haven't even been in his world a whole year!"

Aaron froze. His stubbled throat worked around a swallow, the motion visible now that his facial hair was trimmed back to his usual handlebar-goatee. For a moment he seemed to work himself up to something—seemed to gather his wits and steel his nerves. Eyes weary, he turned back to Amber, setting aside the cardboard to catch her by the shoulders in a steadying, calming grip. "Amber," he professed in all seriousness, "You died two years ago tomorrow…it's May 14th, 2013."

It was bad enough for Amber to think she was back in Willsdale shortly after she died there; to find she arrived just before the second anniversary of her death was almost unbearable. By the time she managed to process this she knew there was only one thing to do—there was only one way to cope with such an insane situation as she was in…getting completely rat-arsed.~

Thus, after a nerve-wracking ride to town on Aaron's handlebars without a helmet, Amber and Aaron crawled into the local watering hole—the Staggering Rat Pub—and seated themselves at a dark corner table. Up at the bar, a pair of dove-grey eyes noticed them, widened in surprise, then darted around the room for some sign their owner was hallucinating. Bhaltair Devon studied the young woman and the older blond in confusion trying to wrap his head around the occurrence, with or without his ponytail of fine white hair. Only the arrival of a familiar face—the solemn green-eyed waitress he hired a couple years back—broke him from his thoughts.

"Yew been by table five yet?" "Bart" asked under his breath. A mere couple years ago, his pronounced brogue would have stunned Kimber Bryant almost as much as finding out she socked a mutant turtle in the jaw during a gang war. After almost two years working for him, though, the other-worlder didn't even bat an eye; after all, Bart's father Glen Devon had a much thicker accent and Kimber herself had a pretty thick Jersey accent before her death – an accent she was attempting to fade just like the twang she eradicated as a teenager. Never let it be said she didn't appreciate a challenge.

"Naw, not yet," Kimber answered with a chagrined half smile. "I had to duck into t'a~ powder room, was just on my way t'ere." Bart waved her off with one hairy mitt, the other snagging a pair of menus from behind the bar he manned.

"Ah've goat'em," he insisted with a reassuring smile. "The young lahss looks a lil' fameliar."~ Before Kimber could question him, he brushed past, headed to Amber and Aaron's table, and set the menus on the old oak surface with a disarming smile. "Ahfternewn, Wellis," he greeted the horrified blond, easily recognizing that Aaron's younger companion was likely kicking him under the table in reminder to keep cool. "Who's yer lahss?"~

"I'm not'is lahss," Amber corrected with a tight smile, unaware that her pronunciation of the word—the use of a flat-a instead of a sharp-a—gave her away completely. She spoke like someone used to the word rather than a local hijacking the term…and her observant uncle recognized it instantly. "I'm just a friend of'is—name's Kimber, I'm from up North." The white-haired older man gave a wide, disarming smile that seemed all crooked upper teeth.

"Funny, tha',"~ he remarked with an easy laugh. "Yew see tha' lovely young'un at the bar? Her name's also Kember, an' she's a Northerner, tew."~ Amber froze, struggling to keep her nerves from showing.

"I-It's a common name up there," she stammered hoping to throw him off. After all, the middle of a bar during the lunch hour wasn't the time or place for a dead woman to reunite with her family, and there was sure to be drama when that reunion occurred. Right now all she wanted was a moment to process the passage of time and enjoy a glass of her favorite poison with her friend. "There were three of us in my graduatin' class alone—drove the professors insane." The staring contest with her uncle spanned a few moments longer, every breath of which passed with the brunette poised for flight. Increasingly frantic, she cringed and added onto the mistruth in hopes of derailing his suspicion with humor. "They ended up callin' us by our last names to keep us straight, so I was just 'Butz.'^^ It was awkward." Finally, Bart gave another wide grin and laughed as though imagining the young woman hiding her face at roll call.

"Ah'll say!" he teased nudging the menus toward them in a silent hint. "Ah'll send the other Kember yer way in a wee bit fer yer orders. Welcome to Wellsdale, Kember Butz, we're glahd to have ye."~ The moment the white-haired owner was out of earshot, Aaron gave Amber a hard kick under the table that made her curse in pain.

"Kimber Butz?!" he demanded accusingly. "Professors?! This ain't Europe—no one here calls'em professors, we call'em teachers!"

"Not everyone does!" Amber insisted feebly, "my…" She fell silent, realizing the truth with dismay.

"Yeah," Aaron agreed sternly. "Yer family called'em professors because yer family ain't from around here. Ya totally blew yer—"

He cut himself off suddenly, eyes locking on the tall, slender redhead approaching their table with a confident sway in her step. "Hey t'ere," she greeted with a coy smile. "Can I take yer order?"

Amber looked up. A pair of glass-shielded grey-green eyes locked with a pair of bottle-greens impeccably lined with smoky eyeliner; the owners of both gaped in disbelief, Amber recognizing the waitress from dreams and the waitress recognizing her from the mirror. The air crackled with tension as the Jersey Nut-Job locked eyes with her old body and the Crazy Celt stared up at the owner of the body she unintentionally snatched. Bewildered by the two women's awkward, intense stare-down, Aaron glanced back and forth between them, searching for answers.

Finally, the stare-down was broken but not in any way Aaron expected. By the time he realized what happened, Amber was already out the front door, sprinting toward his bike like the Jersey Devil was on her heels.

Not twenty minutes after Amber and Aaron headed to the bar for "a sesh,"~ the front door of the trailer wrenched open with a screech and slammed shut so hard the windows rattled. "Remember what I said about time travel bein' ridiculous?" Amber called out to the mutant sprawled out on the lumpy sofa. "It's back on the ta—" Upon seeing the old photo album open on Donnie's lap, propped up by the head of one of the clingy calicoes from the look of it, she pulled a verbal about-face. "What're you doing?"

"Found it under the sofa," the mutant explained with a half shrug. "Your smelly friend doesn't have cable and I couldn't see a router. I got bored."

"The router's in my room," Aaron contradicted with a narrow-eyed scowl that made him closely resemble his cantankerous counterpart. Donnie brushed it off, scooting over for Amber to sit beside him. The moment she did, she caught sight of the page the album was open to…or, rather, the only photo on that page.

"Oh jeez," she groaned, slapping her palm over her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. "Willis, I told ya to burn that photo an' salt the ashes."

"What?" Aaron's expression was entirely innocent—as innocent as Mikey's puppy-dog eyes when the last soda went missing. "It's proof ya had a rack under those tents ya wore."

"I'll say," Donnie muttered glancing from the photo to Amber and back again in contemplation. "Kimber's hair is more brown—here, it's almost auburn." He considered the photo a moment longer, inwardly comparing it to the Amber he only ever saw in his dreams, then closed the album and set it aside. "Now what do you mean time travel's back on the table?" She seemed lost for a moment but soon caught up.

"Kimber's workin' at my uncle's pub," she explained gravely, holding Donnie's eyes over the rims of her glasses. "My uncle hired my counterpart, Dee, an' she recognized me—I mean her—I mean—" She gave up on finding the proper term and gave a 'screw it, you know what I mean' gesture with a loud, frustrated utterance the mutant could only interpret as "GACGH!"~

"Kimber's in this world," he repeated slowly. "She died in 2016…"

"…an' now she's in 2013," Amber acknowledged. "Just like I died in 2011 an' showed up five years later. Whatever's responsible fer this travesty's got a sick sense'a humor." The couple avoided one another's eyes, both considering the impact this new twist would have on their mission. It was already going to be difficult to make sure everyone was safe and get home without being found out, but with Kimber there, too…

"This…complicates things." Amber slumped back into the cat-hair-covered sofa, shaking her head weakly.

"Now I really need that drink."

Memory was a fascinating thing—sounds, smells, sights, all manner of sensation came together to save moments for future recollection. Every now and then, though, the process could go awry, convincing people they recalled something that never happened. This moment was one such instance—a memory without a moment to fall back on.

Soft Spring breezes rippled tasseled grass. Cotton-tail clouds drifted across a field of forget-me-not blue. As far as the eye could see, bunches of white and powder pink blossoms carpeted the hills all the way down to the foggy hollers. Willsdale…this was Amber's Willsdale, the world she came from and the world she just made it back to. Perched tensely in the middle-most branches of a familiar gnarled Pin Oak, she studied the landscape silently, ruminating, recalling a dream she almost forgot.

"Amber?" She startled, losing her grip on her freshly-plaited braid and nearly falling from her limb. Down below, Donatello waited with arms crossed, lips spread into an amused grin. "Now how did you get up there?" the genius asked through a chuckle.

"I climbed, ya silly speccy," she teased back, but her smile fell away. Haven't we been here before? Footsteps lead down to the open front door, but how have I come here once more?^ Easily recognizing that she was lost in thought, Donnie latched onto the lowest branch, swung himself upward, and skillfully made his way up to settle along the limb nearest hers. It took a moment of staring her down in open, obvious worry, but she finally spit it out. "It…it feels like we've done this before."

"It's probably just déjà vu, Braids," Donnie reassured with a small smile. "I know for a fact I've never seen this place before, much less climbed this tree, so the likelihood we have done this before is nil to none." She shot him an mildly irritable glance.

"I know we haven't been here before," she muttered. "It was a dream, months back. You found me here, we were chatting…and you kept playing with your phone." Donnie froze, wide eyes torn from the screen of his cellphone to fix on Amber. …she couldn't have seen him pull it out…could she? The tender scales at the back of his neck tingled, a sensation he mentally compared to what hair standing on end must resemble. "We talked a while," Amber continued nervously without ever noticing him ease his phone back into its pocket, wary eyes fixed on her as though expecting her to spontaneously combust. "A storm hit out'a nowhere…we ran for shelter but…you…"

'Everything will be okay—I swore to protect you, and I will!' Screams—bloodcurdling screams and the sound of an oncoming train. Amber forcibly shook herself from the memory, took a moment to regulate her breathing, and reached out for Donnie's hand. The gentle, encouraging squeeze was just what she needed to regain her grip on the situation. She wasn't the same person she was when she had that nightmare—she was stronger now, capable of stopping panic in its tracks and steering herself back to confidence.

"Even if the first part of the dream was true," she insisted with a wry smile, "the rest was absolute horse-hockey. It's not unheard of for multiple tornadoes to touch down in the same place an' time, but hundreds at once is farkin' ridiculous." Still. Despite her insistence she reached straight above herself—felt for the tree branch Aaron carved the trio's names into as teenagers—but her hand closed over thin air. "Huh?" she muttered turning to investigate. Sure enough, the branch was gone—broken off—and from the weathered, splintered wood at the trunk, it wasn't anytime recent. "That's different, too—limb's gone. Maybe we're not gonna croak after all." At first, all Donnie could manage was staring at her in confusion, but he finally came to the conclusion she was making a morbid joke. "You're about to say this seems like a great place to grow up."

"I wasn't about to say anything," he argued shaking his head. "I was just thinking."

"About?" A trace of muddy red darkened his cheeks.

"That…photo," the embarrassed mutant admitted. "The one in the album from under Aaron's sofa." Amber blushed hotly, cringing into Kimber's cleavage. "You were so worried I'd find out how you looked in this lifetime—worried I'd be disgusted. You know what was on my mind when I found that photo?" Moss green darted toward him—nervous eyes meeting his askance with an obvious question. "How did you manage to get down from that tree limb without breaking your neck, especially with your shirt falling off like that?"

"No idea," Amber laughed nudging him in the side with her elbow. "One minute Aaron was bein' a smartass an' takin' that picture, next minute he was bleedin' an' cryin'." Donnie stared her down suspiciously. "Tree branch broke. I landed on'im. He makes a good pillow." Chuckling at her overly innocent expression, he wrapped one lanky arm around her shoulders; Amber leaned into his one-armed embrace with a sigh. One thing was certain…even with her worries about her family, she was glad to have a chance to show Donnie the world she called her own. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?" she asked softly.

"Not a clue," the genius teased and leaned closer to nuzzle into her hair. "I look forward to finding out a little at a time, though…and I suspect it's about as much as I love you." Drowning in sappy feels, Amber tipped her head intent on stealing his lips, but a holler from the house stopped her in her tracks.

"Oi! O'Brien! Nerd!" Aaron stood on the back porch, grinning and waving them over with, not a metal spatula, but a folded takeout menu. "Quit neckin' an' git in here – I ordered pizza!" Another thing, Amber realized with a chuckle, that was different from her dream. At least she wouldn't have to keep Aaron from burning his house down.

Donnie hopped down from his limb and held his arms open to catch her; no matter how far she fell, he always caught her. His arm wrapped around her waist, her head leaning on his shoulder, the couple made their way back to Aaron's trailer. About halfway there, Amber paused, turning to scan the skies for a danger not present; recognizing the significance, Donnie squeezed her opposite shoulder. "It's alright, Braids," he reminded his nervous lover triggering an embarrassed blush – a blush he gently nuzzled away. "I'm right here with you—I'll be here every step of the way." Grateful green eyes met his, then turned instead to the setting sun.

"We're doin' a Karate Kid marathon over dinner," Aaron declared as the couple followed him into the kitchen. "No arguments accepted—an' if I catch you two spit-swappin' durin' the movies, I swear, I'm'onna barf in yer laps."

"Aw, but Willis," Amber teased the blond already tearing through the pizza boxes on the table. "We did it all fer the glory of love!" Aaron snorted, his whiskered lips quirking into a smart-assed grin.

"Heh," he sniggered with all the maturity of a ten-year-old. "You said did it." Never again would Amber take Aaron Willis's childish nature for granted; for that reason, she gave him an extra-hard brain-duster, all the while rolling her eyes. However long it would last, it was good to be home.

Day 2, just before dawn

Aaron Willis couldn't recall the last time he was woken by a blood-curdling scream. Was it when his youngest sister dropped by unexpectedly and found him napping on the sofa naked? Was it when Kirk caught a mouse while Amber was staying over and left its furry little carcass on her pillow as an offering? Whenever it happened, he didn't care much—this scream came from his living room where his somewhat-deceased best friend was sleeping on the sofa.

In record time, Aaron yanked on a pair of shorts, smushed his glasses onto his face, and bolted out the door of his bedroom. In the hallway, he froze, taken aback by what he was seeing. Amber and Donatello sat facing each other on the short sofa, the mutant murmuring gentle reassurances as the brunette worked through the dream-triggered panic attack. She inhaled slowly, held her breath, then exhaled twice as slowly, all the while focusing on the sensation of Donnie's fingertips rubbing circles into the skin of her upper back. Once her breathing was steadied and her pulse slowed, Amber tugged Donnie down by his suspenders, stealing his lips in a slow, gentle kiss. Right before Aaron's eyes the genius cupped her salt-shiny cheek in one massive hand and returned that first kiss with several more – each more tender than the last – then followed up with a teasing nose rubbing. Her fears fully calmed, Amber gazed up into Donnie's eyes, beaming like he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

Can you really lose someone you never had? Aaron had no answers…if he ever had Amber to begin with, it was clear that somewhere along the way, he lost her. His whiskered lips slanted downward into a confused frown. Why didn't that realization hurt as much as he thought it should? Perhaps he knew from the beginning that he and Amber weren't good together…perhaps that was why he never told her he loved her. Whatever the answer, he wouldn't find it watching her necking with a supposedly fictional character on his sofa, especially since he was still struggling to wrap his head around that fictional character being not-so-fictional after all. What a mind-fuck his life became.

The blond turned to silently retreat to his room, but at the last moment, looked back. Hazel eyes, veering brown in the dark room, met Aaron's over Amber's hair—Donnie held her tucked into his plastron, a rueful smile at his wide lips. It's alright, that sympathetic expression promised. Don't worry, I'll take care of her. A bit rankled that Donnie thought he needed reassurance—even though he probably did—Aaron rolled his eyes, snorted, and stalked back to his bedroom. The moment the door creaked shut behind him, though, the front disintegrated and left sorrow behind.

He loved Amber, so he let her go…she came back, but when the time came, he'd let her go again. He loved her too much to cage her and he knew he wasn't the one she needed. Still, it hurt that the one she needed was so little like him.

WORDS (Scots, Gaelic, Scottish slang/dialect - SS)

~ Crime-in-it'ly! – actually spelled "criminently," this is a generic (somewhat localized to the Midwest) oath meant to portray disbelief, disgust, etc. The awkward spelling here reflects the way my closest family and I actually pronounce it, and the most common pronunciation in our area. First time I said it around Cold he thought I was talking about the Italian Mafia, LOL!

~ Outwith – SS for 'outside of.' "Outwith the locust grove" means Aaron's home is just beyond the trees.

~ Gettin' tanned / A session/sesh – SS. First, regarding people: getting drunk. Regarding structures or objects: getting/being vandalized. Second: a night out drinking or a visit to a bar.

~ Ya stink'a vomit – Aaron reeks of puke.

~ Naw, I'm the ghost'a Scotch-snobs past, here ta skelp yer arse fer drinkin' without me. Yes, it's me, ya honkin' mink! – 'No, I'm the ghost of (people who enjoy Scotch Whisky way too much for their own good) past, here to (SS, Skelp your arse – swat your butt) for drinking without me! Yes, it's me you (SS, honkin' – smelly/dirty/stinking) (SS, mink – person with poor hygiene)!' The 'ghost of Scotch-snobs past' bit is a direct—and horribly groan-worthy—reference to Scrooged, a modern parody of A Christmas Carol. Specifically Amber's evoking the Ghost of Christmas Past who spent most of her time onscreen beating the crud out of the MC while maintaining a cute, innocent, poisonously sweet smile. It's a HOOT!

~ Getting rat-arsed – SS for getting drunk. This phrase is the origin of the name Bart gave the pub he owns and operates—the Staggering Rat. Needless to say, Amber's exaggerating a little here—after finding out Aaron's been drinking too much she's not going out to get wasted with him, she just needs a break.

~ Ah've goat'em—the young lahss looks a lil' fameliar. – I've got them [ will take care of their orders] – the young lass [SS "lady"] looks a little familiar.

~ Ahfternewn, Wellis, who's yer lahss? – Good afternoon, Willis, who's your lady-friend?

~ Funny, tha'. Yew see tha' lovely young'un at the bar? Her name's also Kember, an' she's a Northerner, tew. – Funny, that. (That's funny/suspicious.) Do you see that lovely young lady at the bar? Her name is also Kimber, and she's a Northerner, (usually from the Northeast) too.

~ Ah'll say! Ah'll send the other Kember yer way in a wee bit fer yer orders. Welcome to Wellsdale, Kember Butz, we're glahd to have yew. – I'll say! I'll send the other Kimber your way in a little while for your orders. Welcome to Willsdale, Kimber Butz, we're glad to have you here.

~ GACGH! – a non-word sound indicating frustration and disgust. Starts like 'gal' and ends with phlegm. You can blame this one on my friend Autumn.

GENERAL RULES

~ Adding 'e or 'is to the end of a word – means he or his

~ Adding 'er to the end of a word – means her

~ Adding 'em or 'eir to the end of a word – means them or their

~ Adding 'a to the end of a word – means of, have, or to, depending on the rest of the sentence. You can generally figure out which one with little difficulty just by considering which word the 'a is added to and the rest of the phrase. (IE, "sort'a - sort of, "should'a" - should have, and "wanna" - want to.

~ Adding 'n to the end of a word - means and, as in Rock'n Roll.

~ Words ending with –in' – This word ends with –ing but has been shortened to portray accent.

~ With Kimber, words beginning with t'– this word actually begins with th- but she's dropping the –h-. examples include t'a – the and t'ere – there.

NOTES

* Explanation of the fauna and flora described here. Black Locust trees have been mentioned previously, they bloom May to June but sometimes last longer, and the wood is incredibly hard, ranked at 7th hardest of any tree in North America, even harder than the infamous hickory family. Locusts can spread by seed but more often, they spread by root suckers creating large groves—this rapid root-spreading can lead to a single tree growing thickets of off-shoot trees that can span miles in each direction. Pawpaw trees are an unsung native fruit tree; they flower March-May and fruit September to October. Eastern Redbuds are a local tree that makes a wonderful blooming Bonsai tree; they burst into bloom late March to May and remain covered with deep pink blooms long before they ever develop leaves. May-Apples are a bizarre wildflower that resembles a tiny green umbrella popping up out of the ground; plants with more than one leaf will bloom with a single white flower and eventually develop a small round fruit underneath that frankly resembles 'plant testicles.' Missouri has a few different varieties of frogs, including the ever-popular Spring Peepers, but the little Grays are most commonly seen tree frogs. I'm not 100% certain but what I've read in my research indicates that Grey foxes are more common in the bootheel region and Missouri Ozarks than Red foxes, which are more common in the rest of the state. Of course, what call "Ky-oats" (proper spelling is 'Coyotes') are spread statewide and normally more common than either breed of fox. Even in urban areas like ours coyotes aren't exactly rare. Lastly, 'stick-weed' isn't so much an actual plant as it is a slang term referring to any wild flora that tends to hitch a ride on passers-by; these species are spread across the world and can be a major PitA to get out of clothing and fur. Some common varieties of 'stick-weeds' or 'stick-tights' include Beggarticks, Spanish Needles, Bur-Marigolds and Water Marigolds, and Tickseeds.

** Quote from "Rocky Mountain High" by John Denver. – "He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below. He saw everything as far as you can see, And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun, And he lost a friend but kept his memory."

*** Numbnuts, Asshat, Ass-butt, Barf-Breath, and Dillweed, and Kirk – Alas, this is from experience. My hubby Cold—the nutjob Aaron and Daron are based on—is HORRIBLE at choosing names, but loves cats. When we first met every single one of his dozen-plus housecats and farm-cats was identified by a different insult-name with only one exception, and she was named for the Grim Reaper. Yeah. Guys. Supernatural fans may recognize Ass-butt as Castiel's failed attempt at name-calling, LOL! The last name, Kirk, was Amber's attempt at breaking the 'insult name' trend – it's Scots for 'Church,' chosen because the cat was found at a local church. On a personal note, when Cold and I first met, his mother had a cat named Churchill, or, "Church."

## "Don't diss the white 'fro." - IRL, this is something Cold's known to say since he has the same hair. It's a little off-color but the description is 100% true - he's white but his hair is literally afro-bushy. It's extremely thick and curly, and the combination results in a gravity-defying POOF of blond curls surrounding his head no matter how long he lets it get. For visual, if you've seen the second "Hotel Transylvania" movie, consider the part of the movie where Dennis has his hair slicked back in the middle and it spontaneously SPROINGS back up. Yeah. Cold's hair does that, especially when it's freshly washed. It's a freakin' hoot.

^ Strabismus is a vision problem characterized by the eyes being unable to focus on the same target at the same time, rendering the eyes perpetually crossed or, as in Aaron and my hubby Cold, facing opposite directions. The disorder affects more boys than girls and is caused by a weakness in or differing length in the ligaments that control eye movement and, if caught early enough and effectively treated, it can be reversed. I've read that it can also be surgically corrected but haven't found much on the effectiveness or risks. Because he was lazy about his treatment and his mother didn't push it, Cold is perpetually (as he puts it) "Able to keep one eye on [me] and one on the waitress' ass at the same time." (He's a pig, LOL!) Aaron's 'eye-shifting' here is a common behavior of Cold's, but Cold usually does it simply because someone's making eye contact and he wants to be a smartass. ;) Unfortunately, when you have un-treated Strabismus you eventually learn to 'block out' the signal from your weaker eye in favor of the stronger one, and this can in time be detrimental to your vision. It isn't uncommon for people with Strabismus to eventually lose all vision in their non-preferred eye; in many cases this blindness isn't a matter of the eye but rather the brain—there's physically nothing wrong with their 'bad eye,' the nerves and muscles responsible for receiving signals from that eye atrophy. True to that statement, Cold's bad eye has been growing weaker and weaker over the last twenty years - longer than I've known him - and we suspect he'll be completely unable to use it well before he hits his fifties. It sucks but he's made his peace with it, and even half-blind, he'll still be able to out-game young'uns without trying.

^^ Butz – this is actually a valid surname. It's uncommon in the US and derived from High German bütze meaning 'well or puddle.'

- "Haven't we been here before? Footsteps lead down to note on the door that says I can't stay here anymore." – The line in-story is based on this lyric from "Haven't We Been Here Before?" a track on the Styx album "Kilroy was Here."

- "The Glory of Love" – Song by Peter Cetera, from The Karate Kid Part II. Yes, Cold is actually as immature as Aaron is in this scene, if not worse. My hubby has the mentality of a ten-year-old. -_- Boys...they never grow up.

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