#bode very much made the wrong choice - but how betrayed he must have felt after cal 'changed the plan'

[animatedjen]

Well look what you've done, you dumb bastard. You fell for it.

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 21: Family Matters

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

You'd spent the majority of the night tossing and turning, and by the time your alarm sounded you'd barely gotten half an hour of sleep which, thanks to the dream you'd had, at least made you feel a little — a teensy, tiny bit — better.

Your nerves were on fire, muscles tense, adrenaline hot in your blood like a drug. Thoughts of Rowena never left your head. Of her voice; so weak, so broken. Of her body; bruised, wounded, cracked like porcelain barely keeping itself from shattering into thousands of pieces.

Images kept flashing in your mind, vivid like photographs.

Purple.

So much purple.

Dark. Light. Hues bleeding into one another like a morbid painting.

What that animal must have done to her to inflict such injuries…

God.

She had to have been in so much pain.

Had she been able to sleep?

Were her thoughts as haunted by what happened as yours were throughout the night?

Did her wounds scream and protest at every little move she made, every breath she took, every vibration of her heart?

It was wrong.

That was the only thing you could think about as you got ready for school and hit the frozen streets.

What Lucifer had done to Rowena was wrong.

He had to pay.

If Rowena wasn't going to make him, you would.

Maybe you were wrong, too, the traitorous part of your brain nagged at you. Maybe you should let it go. They were a couple; what went around in their relationship was their business. You had no right to get involved.

No.

You had every right.

Rowena was your friend. You cared about her. You loved her.

How could you look her in the eyes, knowing there were bruises under her clothes and makeup? How could you face her without at the very least trying to help her?

You'd made up your mind.

No amount of doubt would change it.

She could hate you all she wanted. She could scream at you, call you names, tell you she never wanted to see you again. She could cast you out of her life and never speak a word with you again.

You were okay with that.

It would hurt like hell, but the pain would be nothing compared to what you felt now, watching her let that monster treat her like his human punching bag.

You would rather love her from a distance than mourn her in a casket.

To your surprise, Rowena was at school. You saw her the moment you stepped inside. Your eyes met for a brief instance; she sent a small smile your way, and you responded with a nod, too tired, too fed up with everything to return it. The bruise on her face was painfully visible. You could tell she'd tried to hide it with makeup, but at best she'd made it lighter.

Foundation could only do so much.

Olivette stood beside her, talking animatedly about something you didn't give a damn about. Her little posse was there, absorbing every word she said like the faithful puppies they were. Rowena gave a nod here and there, clearly distracted, head high up in the clouds.

Lucifer was a few feet away, talking to a group of jocks. Laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Your stomach turned. Fingers twisted into fists. Teeth clenched almost painfully.

He didn't get to laugh after what he'd done.

He didn't get to stand that close to her.

Turning on your heel, you went to look for your friends. Everyone was already there, strangely energetic for this early hour.

Last days of school had that effect on people.

"I see your sister's back in school," you said after exchanging greetings.

Crowley groaned. "Mother wanted her to stay home, but she insisted."

"Stubborn cookie."

"You have no idea."

Oh, you did.

You wished you didn't, but you did. Very much so.

A lump formed in your throat, a nervous one, and you swallowed it.

This was it, you told yourself. It was now or never.

Mustering up courage, you turned to Crowley and said, "Can we talk for a moment? Alone?"

Everyone looked at you as if you'd just propositioned him for sex.

Dean's smirk made it clear that was exactly what he was thinking.

Great.

Fucking great.

"It's important," you said, hoping your tone gave away the seriousness of the situation.

Crowley winked. "You know I'm all yours, girl."

You rolled your eyes.

You should have expected this.

He followed you to a corner, away from your little gang. The last thing you wanted was to alienate your friends, but you had to do it. You couldn't blurt everything out in front of them.

This was for Crowley's ears only.

"So?" he said. "What's so important that the stooges can't hear it?"

Here we go.

"It-it's about Rowena," you said carefully.

He sighed, annoyance flashing over his face. "If this is another one of your inquiries about her past life—"

"No," you quickly said. "This is serious. I swear."

He quirked up an eyebrow, skeptical. Looking for signs of deception, of falsehood on your face. Finding none, he gave a nod. "Alright. Talk."

Relieved, you let out a breath you'd been holding.

Crowley was the king of drama, but he wasn't unreasonable. He could be serious, could be talked to. He and Rowena may not have gotten along, but, in their own strange way, they loved each other as any siblings did.

If anyone could help you help Rowena, it was him.

He wasn't the most ideal choice, but, aside from the police (who could do nothing without a complaining victim) and teachers (whom you didn't trust much with Principal Shurley in charge), he was the only person you had left.

"She lied," you said.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"She didn't slip and fall."

You gulped. Breathed in and out. It felt like you were betraying Rowena, betraying her trust, by talking about this. She'd confided in you, trusted you with her weaknesses, with her vulnerabilities, and here you were, spilling your guts to her brother.

Because she needed help, you reminded yourself.

Because she was hurt and scared and confused, and her boyfriend was using it, taking advantage of it, to make her into his punching bag.

What kind of a friend would you be if you kept quiet and let it happen again?

Besides, you told yourself, trying to ease your conscience, you hadn't made any promises to keep her secret.

All you were doing was being her friend.

If that was wrong, you never wanted to be right again.

Crowley furrowed his brows. The corners of his mouth curled upward, an amused smirk creeping over his face. "She didn't? Should've known the little whore was lying. Care tell, what did happen?"

Another wave of betrayal swept you over.

Rowena's wasn't the only world you were about to shatter.

Crowley was expecting an interesting story. Something to poke fun and laugh at. To tease her about over dinner and use as a punchline of jokes only he thought were funny.

What was he going to do when he found out what happened?

Would he still think it funny?

No way!

The thought was discarded as soon as it appeared.

Crowley was a lot of things, but he wasn't cruel. He would never do anything to hurt — truly, genuinely hurt — his sister.

"Lucifer beat her."

There.

You said it.

No taking it back. No pretending it was a mistake, a sick joke.

You told Crowley the truth.

And, god, you felt like you wanted to die.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounded against your ribcage like a hammer with almost painful force.

What if you'd made a mistake?

What if he thought you were lying?

Crowley blinked. One time. Two. Stared at you as if you'd suddenly grown horns. "What?"

"He beat her," you repeated, voice as shaky as your hands. "And I think he's done it before. I mean, she didn't say anything, but the way she was acting… I could just tell, y'know?"

Crowley just stared.

Straight at you.

Through you.

Stood still as a statue, those hazel eyes intent, focused.

"She's hurt all over," you added after a moment of silence. "She showed me bruises. There's a lot. He beat her real bad."

Your voice cracked at the last word. Tears welled up in your eyes, prickled at them like needles. Your heart clenched with each beat, a sharp, piercing ache shooting through it. As if thousands of blades had ripped into it, tore through it, bit and ravaged at the flesh.

Crowley remained still. His face, always so expressive, was blank, all emotion gone as if it had never been there. His hands were limp at his sides; they shook, slightly so, then balled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white as chalk.

Was he mad at you for telling him?

Was he mad at Rowena for keeping it a secret?

Or, the thought suddenly popped in, was he mad at himself for not seeing it? For being oblivious to his sister's pain; for taunting her; for poking fun at her injuries, making light of them?

You'd only seen him mad — truly mad — once, when Arthur Ketch had called Rowena a whore — a big no for only Crowley got to call her that. Crowley, with a smirk on his face, had calmly walked over to him and punched him in the mouth. It had earned him a week of detention, but, as he'd said, it was worth it.

She was his sister, and, as such, only he had the right to call her horrid names.

Would he do the same to Lucifer? Would he walk over and punch him — a few times, for good measure? Or would he do something worse?

You couldn't tell for, aside from his clenched fists, he was a blank canvas.

And, despite the absolute loathing you felt for Lucifer, you were scared.

Crowley had gotten a week of detention for hitting Ketch. If he were to attack Lucifer, who knew what the consequences would be?

Lucifer was the Principal's kid.

Laying a hand on him might as well get Crowley expelled.

The only reason you'd gotten away with hitting him was that you'd had witnesses to him grabbing your ass and you'd shouted the phrase "sexual harassment" in the Principal's face enough times for it to sink in that punishing you would be very, very bad for him and the entire school.

Attacking him unprovoked would bode terribly for Crowley.

"She's my friend," you said. "I know you don't like us hanging out, but I care about her and I wanna help her. I just don't know how. She won't go to the police, and I don't think teachers can do much to the Principal's kid. So I figured you might be able to help. Reason with her. Talk to your mom. Do something. Please."

Almost robotically, Crowley laid a hand on your shoulder. You flinched, startled.

"I'll take care of it," he said. His voice was cold, detached. As empty as the look on his face.

A surge of relief washed over you. "Thank you."

"Thank you for telling me the truth."

Guilt still ate at you for that, but you didn't regret it. If given a choice, you would do it again. You would do anything to help Rowena.

"What are you gonna do?" you asked.

"Something," was Crowley's simple response.

Before you could say anything else, the bell rang, and he got lost in the crowd, on his way to class.

Please, don't do anything stupid, you thought to yourself.

Despite that, though, a part of you hoped he would wipe the floor with Lucifer.

Just as the bastard deserved.

*****

You were, as always, looking forward to lunch, but then, mere moments after the bell signaled the end of class, the commotion started and all your excitement was thrown to the wind.

Cold chills slid down your spine as you hurried toward the crowd gathered in the main hall. An inkling of what this was about crept over you; a premonition of sorts, grim, unpleasant, that you hoped with all you had was just your overactive imagination.

It was just a normal high school fight. A scuffle between friends that got out of hand and had accidentally attracted a crowd.

People were cheering and whistling like enthusiastic soccer fans at a particularly intense game. Everyone, from baby-faced Freshmen to towering Seniors, was gathered around the pair of students engaged in a fight. Grunts and yelps were heard, dull sounds that were unmistakably punches. The crowd ate it up like candy, hungry for action, for drama only high school could provide.

What was more entertaining than two teenagers going at it like wild beasts, trying to tear each other apart over something they would laugh at in a few short years?

High school really was no different from a jungle.

You pushed your way through the crowd, hoping to high heavens that you were wrong.

Kids fought.

It was what they did.

Just because you told Crowley about Lucifer didn't mean he—

The thought ended as abruptly as it had formed as your eyes finally landed on the fighting figures and adrenaline, hot, exhilarating, shot through your veins as if you were about to join in on the action.

You weren't.

You wouldn't.

Your body froze in place as if turned to stone, a rattled, mortified statue.

Crowley was pounding on Lucifer. Kicking. Smacking. Punching. He beat on him mercilessly, his bloodied fists landing blow after blow to Lucifer's face.

Lucifer tried to shove him off, tried to hit back, but every effort of his was futile. Crowley deflected his attempts with ease and kept on his assault. His face was contorted with anger, with rage that ran so deep your blood froze in your veins. The earlier blankness was gone; he was mad, and he wanted everyone to know.

He wanted Lucifer to know.

Oh, god.

What have you done?

You knew Crowley could be protective of his sister, but it never occurred to you that he would attack Lucifer like this. In front of so many witnesses.

But then, what did you think was going to happen?

That little worm had harmed his sister. Had beaten her senselessly, without a shred of mercy. Had left her body a mess of bruises that hurt with every little movement.

Crowley wanted him to pay.

As did you.

But at what price?

Lucifer wasn't the one who was going to get in trouble. With his dad as the Principal, and with Crowley's track record, there was no way Crowley could plead self-defense. And even if he did, you had no doubt Principal Shurley would happily enforce the zero tolerance rule, even if it meant having to punish his own son.

Once again, Lucifer would get off with a slap on the wrist. Free to menace, to intimidate, to beat on people in no time.

Crowley wasn't blessed with an influential parent to bail him out of trouble. His mother could only do so much. And his sister…

Would Rowena even collaborate his story? Would she give up her boyfriend to save her brother?

Any other time you would have said yes, but after everything that had happened, you weren't certain.

She wanted to get back with Lucifer. Even after everything he'd done to her, she planned to run right back into his arms as if nothing had ever happened.Whatever it was he had over her, it was enough for her to risk her safety, her wellbeing to be with him.

Would she be willing to risk her brother?

Was Lucifer more important than her own flesh and blood?

"FERGUS!" came a sudden shout.

The crowd parted, cheers and whispers falling silent as Rowena, with Olivette in tow, rushed forward as if her heels were on fire. Her eyes were wide as she took in the scene before her; her boyfriend bloodied, lying limp on the floor; her brother on top of him throwing punches like a madman.

"WHAT IN BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

A few whistles sounded, joyful, anticipating drama that was about to come.

"Teaching your bastard boyfriend a lesson!" Crowley said, landing another punch to Lucifer's already messed up face.

"Stop this nonsense right now!" Rowena ordered without taking a beat.

Another punch. "I haven't even started yet!"

"Fergus!"

He ignored her, eyes glued to Lucifer, intent, furious. "I should bloody kill you!" He punched him again, then kicked him in the ribs with the point of his leather shoe.

Lucifer grunted. His hands instinctively clasped over the aching spot and he curled up like a baby on the floor.

"Stop!" Rowena screamed.

Crowley swung again, but before his fist could hit its target, Rowena grabbed onto it and pulled him back.

"I said stop!"

He shook her off, whipping back to glare at her.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"What is the matter with you?" Crowley countered. "Why are you defending this wanker after what he's done to you?"

Rowena swallowed, hard, taken aback by his words. Then, in a voice she struggled to keep steady, she said, "He hasn't done anything."

"Are you stupid? Has his smacking you around dumbed you down? Take a look at yourself, woman!" Crowley looked at her face, at her barely covered bruise. "How many more of these do you have? I was told there's plenty."

Rowena flinched as if struck. Instinctively, she pulled her turtleneck further up her neck and crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect herself. Her eyes found yours, face contorting with anger. "You told him?"

Guilt bit at you like acid. "I had to."

"No, you bloody didn't!" she screamed. "You should have minded your business!"

"This is my business!" you argued. "I'm your friend, and I'm not gonna stand there and let that bastard abuse you."

"He didn't—"

You held up a hand. "Don't! Just don't!" In a softer tone, you said, "He's hurting you Rowena. It's wrong."

"It's my life!" Rowena said. "You had no right to get involved."

Maybe so.

But, no matter the consequences, you were glad you did.

"Well, I did," you said with a shrug. Not regretting a thing.

"You're crazy if you think Lucifer would ever lay a hand on her," Olivette said.

You snorted. "Figures you would defend him."

She shot you a murderous look. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well!" you snapped.

Before either of you could say another thing, Crowley spoke up. "This bastard doesn't give a damn about you, Rowena."

She looked at him with hurt in her eyes. "And you do?"

"You're my bloody family!" He sucked in a breath. Willed himself to calm down. "Is living out your mean cheerleader fantasies worth putting up with beatings?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Really?" He raised a questioning eyebrow. "This hasn't got anything to do with Scotland?"

She clenched her jaw.

Crowley huffed bitterly. "Thought so. You deserve better. This lying, cheating wanker is beneath you. Where's your self-respect?"

Olivette laughed. "You're not buying this shit, are you?"

"Shut up, Olivette!" you said. Now was not the time for her quips.

"Why? So you losers can make up lies about Lucifer?" She turned to Crowley. "It's not enough that you beat him up. Now you wanna ruin his reputation, as well."

"He does a bloody great job at that himself," Crowley told her.

"Oh, please! You're just jealous."

"Definitely. My knickers are shaking from so much jealousy."

"You're hilarious," Olivette said sarcastically. "I wonder if his dad — you know, the Principal — will share your sense of humor."

"I don't know. Dear ol' Chuck seems like quite a comedian," Crowley quipped.

"Will he find it funny that his son hits his girlfriend?" you said.

"He'll definitely laugh at the slander charges he'll file if you two keep this bullshit up."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course you'd say that, considering."

"Considering what?" she demanded. "If you've got something to say, say it to my face, bitch!"

"You know what? I think I will!"

It was time.

No more secrets.

No more holding back.

"Rowena." You turned to her. Gave her the pleading puppy eyes. "Crowley wasn't lying to you when he said Lucifer was cheating."

Rowena swallowed. "I know." Regret flickered over her face as she quickly glanced at Crowley. Guilty. Apologetic. "He told me he was with other girls."

The ecstatic crowd gasped, eating up the drama, the tension, the new gossip that would spread around with lightning speed.

"Did he tell you any names?" you asked.

She shook her head.

You sighed.

Okay.

Here we go.

Gathering up your courage, you said, "I saw him with Olivette."

Rowena's eyes widened with shock, with surprise so raw, so genuine it was heartbreaking. "What?"

"This is bullshit!" Olivette instantly exclaimed. Rowena looked at her with murder in her eyes, and she said, "She's lying!"

"I'm not lying!" you said. "I saw them. Well, heard them. Remember when you were sick a few weeks ago? They were in the bathroom, talking shit about you. I heard them kissing."

"Who knows what you heard?"

"I know!" you snapped.

"Is it true?" Rowena demanded.

Olivette raised an eyebrow. Surprised. Defensive "Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yes, I am," Rowena said firmly. Her voice was cold, detached. Tranquil fury on the verge of explosion. "Are you fucking my boyfriend?"

"Rowena—" Lucifer finally spoke, struggling to raise himself up on his elbows.

"You be quiet!" she snapped.

"What, you don't believe me? You're taking the loser's word over mine?" Olivette asked.

"I'm her friend," you said. "I'd never lie to her."

"Honey, you're nothing but grime under her shoes," she said condescendingly.

"No, Olivette," Rowena said. "I'm starting to think that is what you are."

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"Well, it's hard to tell. After all, most of the time you do look like a joke."

And there it went.

Olivette's true colors were out.

"I suppose it takes one to know one," Rowena retorted.

Olivette chuckled bitterly. "You know what? I'm done playing. Yes, I fucked your boyfriend." She stepped forward, got in Rowena's face. "I've been fucking him ever since you two got together. He's not my particular type, but when he became yours, he got so much sweeter. You know what they say about forbidden fruit. It's the best."

Rowena set her jaw. Clenched her teeth tight. Narrowed her eyes into slits, angry, dangerous ones, a wild, heavy storm brewing inside them.

You thought she was going to curse her out, but, instead, she shoved her away, turned on her heel, and ran. Ran as fast as her wounded body would let her, as far as it would carry her. Away from the whistling crowd and the bitter betrayal.

Every nerve in you screamed for you to follow her, but you remained in place. She needed to be alone for a bit. Needed to cool her head, blow off some steam. Your presence would only further upset her.

You'd done enough of that for one day.

Crowley stared after his sister. Then his eyes fell on the smirking Lucifer and he landed one final punch, knocking him back down with a grunt.

"Stay away from my sister!" he said, the threat clear in his voice. He turned to Olivette and, raising a forefinger in warning, said, "You, too."

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You gonna beat me up, too?"

"If I have to."

"You'd hit a girl? My, are you a gentleman."

"Darling, you're not a girl." He stared her down, smirked right in her face. "You're a backstabbing cunt."

"What is going on here?" one of the teachers demanded, pushing his way through the crowd.

Great.

Here came trouble.

*****

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