#where i was raised learning gun safety + how to shoot is pretty normal so like hkahsdkfhadskhf

[kaseyskat]

also okay i'm guilty of this as well because i was ignoring reality a bit too much for the sake of silly plotlines but i AM curious to hear from the larger fandom about why we all kind of collectively assumed that like. life was Normal after the doodler's release. like, the kiddads being in school, everything functioning as is level of normal. because like... maybe it started out that way and at first it was just like how early s2 was going (with a few incursions/sauced people) but look at how the world is now. in the span of just a few years san dimas is overrun and on fire and that's only partially due to willy most of it was the mayor! and we've Seen the other realm, old earth- it's bad. explicitly so bad that you lose yourself just being in that environment for too long. that was the world that the dads + kiddads inhabited before code purple so like... idk. this is why i think my problem with the twins during last episode's ending was not that they were teaching kids how to fight and use guns because look at the world they were in. it's apocalyptic! there's a reason the kiddads had to get involved in DADDIES so quickly! and like. i do think that gets lost a little bit when we reflect on like. the hellscape that was pre-code purple. it wasn't just your normal day to day life it was actively apocalyptic.

[ktheist]

in another life (i would be your man)

muses. hero!yoongi / assassin!yoongi / father!yoongi / lawyer!yoongi

word. 2.5k

genre. reincarnation au

x

time and time again, you find yourselves in the other’s absolute mercy.

mercy, which both of you know, the other will not grant.

“have you any last words, hero?” the grass shrivels up around yoongi all because hot air wilts the greenest of life.

a single bead of sweat trickles down the side of yoongi’s face as he looks at you without a shred of fear in the face of death.

“all the gold you’re hoarding... does it bring you happiness?” he says, as though already finding serendipity before you can even drive your talon into his chest.

“happiness!” you roar, mockery dripping off your word, “such humanly sentiments. you forgot who you’re speaking to, hero.”

“yoongi... yoongi’s my name” he sighs softly, eyelids fluttering shut, “say it.”

it is you who fall silent this time.

to say the name of the soul who’s bound to you not for love but for destruction... have you the right?

in your last life, a good few hundred years ago, he’s the one that drove the cross into your chest.

in the one before that, you burn him at the stakes for the wretched powers he held.

in this lifetime, even the armor made of the silver cannot withstand the weight of your paw, talon digging into his chest as he lays underneath you, ready to accept the heroic death.

“very well, if not in this lifetime, then perhaps the next...”

you live for three human lifetimes as the great dragon who brought the continent together. the humans, without their hero, are mere mortals. they learned better than to put their faith in one man.

in the next lifetime, you find yourself kneeling in front of a silver haired man - what a striking hair color for someone who’s supposed to be on the low.

“my hand’s gonna slip,” that gravelly voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“what-” you breathe out, eyebrows knitting together.

he takes his aim.

but there’s something wrong.

the angle he’s pointing at will graze your cheek and ear at most.

then he shoots.

when the bullet bounces against the cement somewhere a few inches away behind you, your body moves on its own. your leg sweep out to send him tumbling down onto the ground. your thighs pin his hips down so he can’t get up and you push the gun farther beyond his reach.

“why are you doing this?” you hiss, knife against his throat.

“don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to be happy?” yoongi says simply, too complacent for a man who’s about to lose yet another life to his enemy.

“that’s not how it works,” teeth gritted together, you press the dulled side of the knife harder against his snow-kissed flesh.

“then, how does it work?” he asks.

for a moment, you’re frozen in place. then you’re taken back to where it all begins.

you were a queen who poisoned her king before proceeding to ruin the kingdom until it remains but a memory to those who’ve lived through your tyrannical era. yoongi was the crown prince from a small country who enticed you into his chambers and kept you locked in a tower like a caged bird while he went to war with the neighboring kingdom with your kingdom’s army.

“i- i hated you for seducing me and locking me up in that tower,” you murmur, breath shaky, “a- and you hated me because i-i couldn’t be killed... because i was...”

“a blood sucker.” he finishes for you.

a flash of anger crosses your eyes and paint your vision red. you press the knife harder - no doubt there would be a bruise, “no matter how immortal i was... i died because of a broken heart. you killed me!”

��i was breaking my own heart for having to keep you locked in that tower but if i let you go...” he trails off, his hand coming to settle on yours.

it’s the first time you hear him choke up.

“so many died because of our love,” yoongi’s voice comes out barely above whisper.

“your sin is mistaking hate for love,” you flick your wrist, switching the side of the blade pressed against his neck to one that could cut through clean and swift.

but before you can seal yet another lifetime of your surviving, a sharp pain cuts into your arm, forcing you to release the blade, your free hand cupping the familiar circular wound that’s gushing with blood.

you push yourself off him, going over the ledge and jumping off to your safety. and yoongi’s left in the cold, night air, the coms in his ear buzzing back to life.

it’s six months later that he finds you, dressed in deep red, smiling seductively as you cling on a man twice your age. all of a sudden, he finds himself ignoring whatever his partner’s saying in the coms and approaching you and the man.

yoongi can barely remember what he said but he remembers the overwhelming feeling of relief when the man pushes you off and march out of the room, shouting russian vulgarities.

“planting a bullet hole in my arm isn’t enough, you just had to sabotage my mission, don’t you?” you’re on top of him once again but the ground isn’t cold and hard as he’s always remembered in the series of you pinning him down in differing lifetimes.

“have you thought about what i said?” he doesn’t look like he minds it anymore.

being pinned down by you, that is.

rather, yoongi quite likes the view of your cleavage when you lean down close enough to whisper into his hears, “i reflected on my past mistakes... and truly, i wish nothing more than to have you gone from my sight once and for all.”

then his index finger ghosts over the softest protrusion of the healed up scar on your arm. and you feel goosebumps on your skin.]

you leave in the morning, slipping out of the hotel room in that skin tight maroon dress, noticing the woman in the lobby, looking like what you would’ve looked like if you were waiting for your partner who went against orders and checked into a room in the very same hotel he was supposed to eliminate his target at.

sloppy. fucking sloppy.

yoongi never sees you after that. he got reprimanded and almost got eliminated by his own agency if it hadn’t been his father, the head of the extermination department who pulled some strings and buried the matter.

it’s a surprise he’s still alive at the age of of thirty-one, owning a lawfirm of his own and living the life he’s never thought he’d have.

a normal one.

then, he spots you, walking down the sidewalk holding a toddler’s hand and smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever hold dear to.

“stop the car,” yoongi orders.

“s-sir?” the driver, surprised by the sudden request, hesitates.

“pull over!” it’s the first time the young man has ever hear his boss raise his voice.

so he does just that, but a block away from where yoongi last saw you.

he runs as fast as his legs could carry him. but the sidewalk is empty of a woman holding a child’s hand.

it takes another year of him searching records of faces and names. for you have many and unlike yoongi, he’s sure you have no one to pull the strings and make one blunder disappear.

then he finds you, under a pseudonym, of a certain kim hana whose child is named kim youngsoo.

“it’s me,” he announces, stepping into the light that pours past the window and over not even half of the room.

“mommy, can we order pizza?” youngsoo’s lively voice rings from outside of the room.

“yeah, why don’t you decide what toppings you want and i’ll be out there in a sec, sweetie,” your voice sounds heavenly - none of the guarded strain that he usually hears. but your eyes, they look like the eyes of a woman who would give everything to protect her most precious possession.

“so it was you... one year ago,” you say, ambling to the dresser where yoongi easily finds out your motive.

“the gun’s not there anymore, you really think i’d break into the house of an ex-assassin and not think to look for weapons tacked up somewhere out of sight?” he hears the frustrated sigh you make before you stand with your feet apart.

looks like you believe his words.

looks like you’ve got no problems taking him on with bare hands.

“he’s mine, isn’t he?”

a scoff.

“you’re pretty dumb if you think one night’s all it takes to get pregnant with your bastard child.”

“who’s the father, then? why isn’t he around?” he presses on.

and his questions have always been intrusive but you notice the weight of his every inquiry. as if he’d drop dead right this instant if you don’t answer them.

“he walked away, couldn’t accept that we had to always be on the move just because he had a baby with a wanted woman.”

and it’s not the police that wants you.

“his social security number?” yoongi shoots you another question.

“i don’t know. i don’t remember,” you say simply, a shrug accompanying your answer.

“number one rule of being an assassin: never forget anything,” yoongi recites easily, even after five years, he still recalls the drilling his mentor forced him through, “so that leaves us with one possibility: he doesn’t exist, this ex of yours.”

“mooooom.” youngsoo calls out, sounding too close for comfort.

“just a minute, sweetie. why don’t you take my phone out of my bag and get ready to dial up the number to the pizza place?” there’s a lightness in your tone.

envy wraps around yoongi’s heart before he even realizes it. how he wished you’d speak to him in that delicate, loving tone as well.

“look, i’m tired, i’m done playing games, i’ve been done since that night. i know i fucked up and i know some day i’ll pay for it but not tonight... tonight... at least let me have one last night with my kid.”

it’s the way the word ‘my’ and ‘kid’ fall naturally off your mouth that makes yoongi realize that he’s the one stuck in the beginning all along. that he’s the one who couldn’t move on from the past even though he sought to change the present and threw your world upside down when he decided not to take the shot.

before he can say anything, you’re already out of the door but he senses no rush in your footsteps.

“do you have the pizza place’s number down?” there it is again, the soft, tender tilt in your voice.

it’s a little faint but he hears it clearly.

and it may very well just be a trick to make him sympathize but what is he to sympathize with when he’s only here to ask for confirmation?

why do you treat him like death who’s finally come to take back your borrowed time?

well, the answer was simple.

“i paid off the bounty,” yoongi meets you at a cafe where he knows you’ll feel safer.

no assassin will make a move in broad daylight, in public, with his face out for the cameras to record.

“how much?” you sound like you just got another loan tying you down.

“enough that they can’t resist,” he states.

and before you can even say anything, he goes on, “i want to see him.”

“no.” you say curtly.

“he’s my child too.” he slides the white envelope he pulls out of his pocket to you.

it contains the dna results from the hair on the comb youngsoo complained he lost and yoongi’s own hair.

“he’s doesn’t need a father,” you don’t even give the envelope a second glance, “if that’s all-”

“that’s not for you to decide on your own,” he cuts you off.

it’s the firmness in his tone that makes your eyebrows rise. min yoongi has always been a gentle soul. even when he was driving a cross into your heart, he’d done it with the heaviest heart.

and for him to place his foot down like this - how very unlike him.

which is why, when he pulls, you pull harder.

“if you so much as appear in front of youngsoo, we will disappear and i’ll make sure you’ll never us again.”

and with that, you take out the blank check from your purse and slip it over to him. the check and the envelop laying side by side.

money isn’t the issue, you’ve managed to wire every single penny you have to different bank accounts before the agency could even freeze the one in seoul. it took several trips to japan, hong kong and china but you eventually got enough to start a new life with your new life.

and that new life of yours is being shaken by the presence of an entity of the past.

you begin noticing the men and women dressed in plain clothing standing a few feet away from where you and youngsoo go. they’re there, acting absolutely normal which makes it unnormal. always watching, always being on guard as if their lives depend on you and youngsoo’s security.

it goes on for another three months before you finally get tired of it and approach one of them, “call your boss over.”

youngsoo’s blowing bubbles at the park when a sleek black car pulls up at the curb and a familiar face steps out.

“you can see him every week on saturdays, one no-show and you’re out. also- i decide when he finds out,” you set the rules and yoongi looks like he a little kid who’s about to perform at his school’s talent show, “do we have a deal?”

“absolutely,” he nods readily.

yoongi’s hand moves on its own and he almost hooks his index finger around your pinky finger as if asking for some kind of emotional support. but he stops himself.

he walks beside you, watching as you walk out from under the shades of the tree, your expression instantaneously brightening when the sunlight hits, “youngsoo-ah,” you wave the toddler over.

his little legs comes running towards you, curious, bright eyes staring at yoongi and right through his soul. he’s never felt so bare and defenseless.

the only thing that keeps him from running away is the fondness in your voice. and the smile on your face that he’s never seen before, “youngsoo-ah, this is uncle yoongi, he’s mommy’s friend...”

yoongi musters the best smile he can - he never needed to try. it’s the people around him that force smiles to please him. never the other way around. never him having to smile so he wouldn’t scare off his son.

he crouches in front of the child that’s partially hiding behind you, “youngsoo-ah, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

[itsclydebitches]

I’m the tin foil hat anon and I wanted to thank you for the response on my bb submission, you make great points. Although I was frustrated that some of them raised even more questions I didn’t think of myself… UGH… lol the S2 wait is gonna be painful

On the point of crosshair thinking his chip was removed a looong time ago(meaning before bracca or even as early as ep1) it wouldn’t make sense bc of his response to Hunter’s “you tried to kill us, we didn’t have a choice”. He says “and I did?”. So he seems to be aware he couldn’t control himself in all their previous encounters. Does it mean he knows his actions were due to chip then?

And you say crosshair avoiding the “when” question can be due to him not caring if the horrible actions he committed are chip or himself and it’s meant to show that he truly is despicable and evil. It could be the case because he shows absolutely no remorse or regret over slaughtering civilians, never apologizes to his brothers for not only trying to kill them but almost successfully incinerating(!!!) them. On top of that (apparently) without a chip he casually murders his own squad without a blink of an eye right in front of them.

On the other hand, he shows care for Omega’s safety in that episode and wants a better place in the universe for his brothers(even if it’s obviously a mistake). He sounds hurt and betrayed by them yet he still wants what he thinks is best for them. He seemed genuine and sincere in that moment. Even after they refused to join he protected them against the droids. He had multiple opportunities to shoot Hunter or others in the back but never did(and looked like didn’t even consider it). BUT after all of that he decides to raise his gun and try to shoot hunter who already has his gun drawn?! And in front of the whole squad holding him at gun point!!! WTF was he thinking?! WHY? I know they rejected his offer but still. Did his reveal completely change his plans? I just don’t understand. I know he is meant to be “complex and nuanced character with layers” but what a mood swing lmao

As much as I loved and enjoyed the bad batch overall I’m beginning to think that all these inconsistencies aren’t meant to be a crafty set up for next season. What they most likely are is just writers being vague on purpose so they don’t write themselves into a corner.

And as to why the batch and Omega didn’t even try to rescue their brother could just be so that Hunter and Crosshair would have this drama and disagreement at the end. Despite brad rau claiming their argument was over ideological differences. And Jen Corbett saying in that same cursed interview that the batch always love and support each other no matter what because they’re family. Well, I guess not crosshair, he doesn’t count anymore lol

And I agree with you I’d rather see the batch acknowledging they could have done more to try and rescue him than go into the chip details. However, I have a suspicion the real reason or explanation on why they never went back for him isn’t going to be brought up ever. Even *in universe* it simply does not make sense. Just makes me sad seeing how many people also try to come up with explanations. That should have been the writers job to provide something besides Hunter’s “you tried to kill us” bc that’s a weak argument and a total bs since he was SHOCKED to learn crosshair doesn’t have a chip.

Btw sorry for the long posts lol I just found your takes very intriguing

The season two wait is something awful and I only just started it lol. No worries about long asks though! My blog has become quite meta heavy over the years, so this is normal for my inbox. Besides, it’s a bit of a pot and kettle situation. It's not like my answers are particularly concise :D

Okay first, I have the unpopular (?) opinion that Crosshair was never planning to shoot Hunter, partly for the reasons you lay out here. You’re right, it doesn’t make sense, and rather than just accepting that he had that kind of “mood swing" (which would be pretty bad writing based on everything else we've seen) I think it does make sense that this was never his intention at all. Rather, it’s just a setup to make the audience think he’s about to shoot Hunter—that’s the obvious goal of that moment: the shock, drama, confusion, and then relief—but that doesn’t mean that in-universe that was ever Crosshair’s goal, even for just a split second. Omega leaves the pod. Echo, crucially, says that he can’t see her, setting up that Crosshair with his enhanced sight is probably the only one who could. He grabs his rifle off screen and as he does, Hunter leans over the side of the pod as he prepares to jump in, precisely where Crosshair needs to aim to hit Omega. Hunter is in his way. He’s directly in the line of fire, not because Crosshair is aiming for him, but just because that's where Omega is and they're both aiming for her: Crosshair with his rifle, Hunter ready to dive. The little shift Crosshair makes reads to me as him ensuring he doesn’t hit Hunter, despite him being right where he needs to aim, not him full on changing targets.

Even if we choose to read it as him deliberately aiming at Hunter—because yeah, the scene is meant to be ambiguous—I don’t think he, like, meant it meant it. Crosshair, as we’ve seen throughout TBB and TCW, can be pretty antagonistic. He likes to do things to get a rise out of people, like staring at regs until they snap at him, or pushing Rex’s buttons until he swings. If he was choosing to aim at Hunter in that moment, rather than Hunter just being in the way, I think it’s only bravado. Remember the “Don’t make the same mistake twice. Don’t make me your enemy” line? Crosshair has a need to remind others of his skill and power—whether it’s playfully like in TCW, or more seriously in TBB—and that’s likely what this is here. “Hey, Hunter. Look. I got my weapon back. I’ve got you cornered. I’m about to save our sister when you can’t. Remember that I’m good and you need me.” Those feelings of abandonment are tied up in that need to be needed, so when Crosshair is seething at being left behind, brutally showing them how he can get a drop on their leader and doing the thing they can't (save Omega) is a great way to remind them of what they threw away/re-boost his own self-esteem. But none of that means shooting Hunter was ever a real possibility. Because nowhere else do we see Crosshair willingly trying to harm his team. He does while under the chip’s influence, but then he never hurts Hunter when he’s captured. He kills his new team before they can hurt the batch. He helps them fight off the droids. There’s a tussle, but it’s not choreographed like either he or Hunter truly intends harm. Crosshair demonstrates no aggression during the entire escape, willingly gives up his weapon after saving Omega, and just stands there as they leave. If this guy actually wanted to hurt them, he would. Which is more likely, that Crosshair had a split second of real murder intent across two episodes of doing everything possible to help his team, or that this was just a mean bluff?

But personally, I don’t even think it was a bluff. I think the coincidence of Crosshair needing to aim there and Hunter already being there is just meant to imply an attack for the audience, not imply that Crosshair, in-universe, ever intended to hurt him, even for just a second. If he had, he wouldn’t look so surprised and sad when he realizes the others are pointing their weapons at him. If he was out to shoot Hunter, even if only for a moment, seeing his brothers come to his defense would be expected; a given. But if he only ever intended to save Omega, then seeing their weapons trained on him would produce the emotions we saw: shock that they’d turn on him and then severe disappointment. From Crosshair’s perspective, he didn’t do anything wrong and never intended to do wrong either. Hence, looking away in disbelief that his need to aim through Hunter was taken as a serious threat. He's realizing that they honestly believe that he would hurt them. Not the chipped version of him, but just him, all on his own.

As for the rest of his characterization, I think your point that “You tried to kill us” is a weak argument is pretty important. Meaning, Crosshair knows he didn’t attack his team and nearly kill them, the Empire controlling him like a puppet did. He (arguably) doesn’t owe them an apology for something that he was as much a victim for. However, we usually expect one anyway—like Wrecker still apologizing to Omega—because that's how people who have hurt loved ones react, whether the hurt was intentional or not, but that guilt is currently overshadowed by his fury that they left him behind. For him I think it’s a bit of a circular problem. Yes, he nearly killed them… but he wouldn’t have nearly killed them if they’d come back and rescued him. With the obvious disclaimer that the Empire is the real evil here, Crosshair as a threat is a bit of a problem of the batch's own making. If they’d done the right thing and gotten him out, there wouldn’t have been these scary moments like the engine incident. If they’d at least tried, then Crosshair likely would have been more guilt-ridden because he hurt his brothers who were trying to help him. As it stands, he tried to hurt the people who claim they're his brothers, but who left him behind. That's why he presents this second chance as magnanimous: from Crosshair's perspective, they haven't done anything to earn his care, but they're getting it anyway. An apology though? That's pushing things too far. If when Wrecker turned the group had locked him somewhere in the ship and gone off planet, leaving him there under the justification “Well, he tried to kill us!" would Wrecker still return with apologies for his actions... or would he be primarily pissed at being left like that, withholding apologies because they did him harm intentionally, whereas he did harm under another's control? I mean, maybe he'd be forgiving (the huge difference between his and Crosshair’s personalities is another factor), but also maybe not. Having Crosshair apologize for the near-death experiences requires 1. For him to feel responsibility for something that was forced on him and 2. For him to not be absolutely furious at the batch for abandoning him. They've gotta work through that before Crosshair can acknowledge that guilt.

Killing his second team on the other hand… idk if the batch cares, honestly. It was the killing of civilians that they balked at, not other fighters like themselves. Even the Jedis’ execution, something they clearly didn’t like, wasn’t enough to turn them from the Empire, presumably because the Jedi are capable of defending themselves. They fell in battle. It’s only when the Empire asks them to kill kids and untrained civilians that they go, “Absolutely not. This organization is evil.” Murder of other fighters was, you know, not great, but not worth defecting over either. Crosshair’s second team is made up of fighters who have been trying to kill them, so they’re definitely fair game. If we removed Crosshair’s plan from the situation and the batch was just fighting their way off Kamino after a capture, would they have also killed the team without a blink of an eye? Probably. It's self-defense. The second they raised their blasters it became a battle and, unless you’re specifically out to stun someone for some reason, battles end bloody. The shock is which side Crosshair was on, not that one side was willing to murder the other. It’s definitely messed up from our perspective that Crosshair laid a trap to murder his team to prove a point… but from the batch’s perspective? Crosshair killed a bunch of imperial fighters who were threatening them during a battle. That’s just an average Tuesday for them, nothing much to get upset over.

And omg don’t get me started on Crosshair wanting to find Omega a family! Like yeah, it’s obviously a #mistake and his faith in the Empire is Super Messed Up but... the underlying motivation is so good. It’s another situation where there’s no easy answer. Which is more important: Omega’s emotional health where she grows up with clones like her, the people who are now 100% her family, or her physical health, where she stays some place where she’s not always getting shot at, kidnapped, at risk of going hungry, etc.? It’s easy as the audience to go, “Of course she belongs with her dads!!” but if you choose to read the story through any realistic lens, Crosshair absolutely has a point about this being terrible environment for a kid, the exact point the batch themselves were making until Omega begged to stay. I love my feral, compassionate child but let me tell you, I YELLED when she yeeted herself out of that pod. This is a traumatized, formerly isolated kid with absolutely zero self-preservation, combined with, at times, a lack of basic common sense that’s inevitable in children (like not realizing she can’t pull a very heavy droid up through the water). As emotionally gutting as the thought is and, in this particular case, a Very Bad Idea, I really can’t fault anyone for raising the possibility that she go somewhere else, somewhere she’s likely to survive into her teens 😅

[snowdice]

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 2)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit (more to be added)

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman (more to be added)

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1

It had always been a quaint little house that his little brother and the boy’s father had lived in. It was a little thing with two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchen that faded into the living room/dining room situated in a little neighborhood with a small park and a medium sized grocery store. At one point in his life, Janus had wondered why his brother preferred to live in such a small space rather than in their mother’s much grander house that edged on a mansion, but as he’d grown, he’d come to understand.

Mom was a bitch.

And even more of one than he’d thought apparently. Really? The father of your child? The father of your 15-year-old child? He knew there wasn’t exactly any love between the two of them, but he’d hoped there was at least enough respect not to murder the man.

God. Virgil was going to be crushed when he found out.

He shook off the thought. There was no time for emotions. First thing first. He needed to get Virgil out of here before mother deigned to remember his existence. Then he’d deal with the emotional fallout.

“Virgil!” he called into the house. There was no answer.

Janus frowned. It’s fine. He was probably just listening to his music like the angsty teenager he was, right? Except… Janus was pretty good at picking up when something was amiss given his current career and something… seemed… amiss, though he couldn’t place what.

That in mind, he paused to listen. He couldn’t hear any sounds in the house, so he started to walk forward a bit. He ducked his head into the kitchen and froze. The window above the dinning room table had been broken, leaving glass shattered across the floor. Fuck.

Had mom remembered Virgil’s existence. He hadn’t thought she’d outright send someone to kill the boy, but what if she had?

Janus took a breath and then quickly set about investigating the rest of the house. Other than the broken window, most of the house looked normal until he got to the only room in the house with the lights still on: Virgil’s room. The purple and black spiderweb comforter usually on his bed had been flung to the floor across the room and both of his lamps had been knocked over along with some decorations. Also, there was some radio like device on the floor and a bottle of pepper spray which, judging by the smell, had recently been used.

There was also still drying blood on the carpet, though thankfully not enough to indicate there’d been a murder. Janus swallowed. Okay.

Maybe mom had sent someone after him, but that didn’t mean he was dead. He smoothed his face out even though no one was there to see it and took out his cell phone. He found his mother’s contact in his phone and pushed the call button.

“Yes?” she answered on the third ring, her tone already bordering on annoyed.

“Good evening mother,” Janus spoke smoothly even though he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. “I heard about the tragic,” he made a point to subtly color his tone with sarcasm, something he’d learned from her, “death of Remington Gates about half an hour ago.”

He could hear the single eyebrow raise even from over the phone. “Yes,” she replied, “and?”

“Well I was just wondering if I needed to clean out my room at the house or if there would be another solution for the man’s son?”

“Ah yes, well,” she said, “that has been a… frustration.”

“Frustration?” Janus asked. Curious tone. Not scared. Curious, not scared.

“I had sent one of my men over to pick him up and bring him to me shortly after Mr. Gates’ death. However, he apparently resisted going with a stranger.”

Janus shivered at the thought of what one of his mother’s people would do to a kid who fought him when he was trying to follow her orders, but at least he (probably) wasn’t dead. “So, he’s been taken by your man and is on his way to your house now?”

“No.”

“No?” and as much as he tried, just a bit of panic seeped into his tone. He wasn’t sure if she noticed.

“No,” she confirmed, with an angry tsk. “Honestly, I know he’s my blood, but one would think Kinsley could handle a 15-year-old child.”

“Wait… then, where is he?”

“That is the million-dollar question,” she scoffed, “The last I knew Kinsley was whining about washing pepper spray out of his eyes before he could track him down.”

“So… he’s on the run?” Janus asked. On one hand, good for Virgil. On the other hand… where the fuck was his baby brother?

“Unfortunately, yes.” The way she said ‘unfortunately’ made it clear that she was far more unhappy about her orders not being fulfilled immediately than worried about the fact that her teenage son was missing.

“Perhaps,” Janus hedged, keeping his voice level. “You should send someone more competent. I would be willing to step in if you believe it’s necessary. Not to mention, he knows me.”

“You’re volunteering?” she asked.

“If it would be of help to you,” he said smoothly.

“Very well,” mother said. “I’ll send you Kinsley’s information. You can work with him.”

Shit. “Must I?” he asked in a bored tone. “It sounds as though he is quite incompetent.” He waited with his breath held.

“At least meet up with him to get the information he has but then you can send him back or shoot him for all I care. He’s proven himself to be useless.”

“I will do as you instruct,” Janus replied, relieved.

“I know you will,” and then she hung up.

Janus collapsed on Virgil’s bed when he was sure the call was actually disconnected with a groan to wait for the information on Kinsley to come through. While he waited, he pulled out his second phone. He considered it, knee bouncing up and down and then opened the text app.

‘Virgil is missing. Help?’ he texted and sent his location before stuffing it into his pocket again.

A few second later, details about Kinsley popped up including his current location using the tracker on his phone. He was in the park down the street.

Janus didn’t know if he was following Virgil or guessing but getting him out of the way would be a good starting point either way.

He pushed himself to his feet and after a moment’s thought, grabbed the stuffed spider Remy had given Virgil when he was eight off the boy’s bed. He’d… probably want that wherever he ended up.

He shoved it into the inner pocket of his coat and then left the little quaint house behind to head to the park down the road.

He glanced at his phone and brought up a picture of Kinsley. In theory he could just text the man and ask where he was as he’d likely been informed someone else was coming to find him, but it would be much more satisfying to surprise bash his face in.

He needn’t have bothered looking at the picture though as Kinsley was fairly easy to spot seeing as he was the only grown man crying with his head in a water fountain.

Janus could help but let his lips curl in amusement. Serves the bastard right. He walked straight up to him and grabbed him by the back of the hair. He squealed as he was pulled back and tried to fight back blindly.

“I’m your replacement,” Janus said coolly, and the man froze at his tone. “Where’s the kid?”

“Fuck. I don’t know man. He ran off. I’ve been trying to check the park, but my eyes,” he whined.

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Janus growled. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let a 15-year old pepper spray you.”

“He was prepared somehow, alright. Already knew his daddy was dead and was ready to fight.” How the hell had he… didn’t matter right now.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Janus demanded, yanking on his hair harder.

He made a pained sound. “I broke through the window and found the kid in the bedroom. He refused to go with me and said screw his mom because she killed his dad. I smacked him good to get him to cooperate, but that just seemed to piss the little bastard off because the next thing I knew he was pepper spraying me.”

“And then?” Janus asked calmly.

“Then he ran. I don’t know where. I’ve been trying to find him. Assumed he ran to the park. Kids like parks.”

“I see,” Janus said and then slammed his face into the edge of the water fountain. “You know,” he informed the unconscious body. “I was given the option to shoot you.”

“Before you do that,” a voice said casually. There was the unmistakable sound of a gun’s safety clicking off. “I’d like to have a word.”

Janus turned slowly to look in the direction of the voice and, at first, thought he recognized the man, but then realized he didn’t have a stupid mustache and also the man he was thinking of probably would have (maybe) had enough sense not to point a gun a Janus when his brother was missing.)

Great. It seemed the other side also sent people looking for his brother. He’d thank Logan, but actually, screw Logan. He eyed the man pointing a gun at him idly. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” he scoffed. The moment indignation flashed across his face, Janus ducked down and charged at him, twisting his arm behind his back and kicking the gun away when it fell.

Yet, as soon as the element of surprise was gone, it became clear that Janus was physically outmatched as they grappled with each other for an edge. He was brought to the ground but rolled out of the way and kicked him in the stomach. Yet that didn’t deter him. Instead he kept coming at Janus, grabbing his arm and twisting it. Janus clocked him in the face and drew blood.

“Fucker!” the man spat but didn’t retreat at all. They continued to wrestle on the ground a bit when they were interrupted by another voice.

“Ooo! A fight! I wanna join!” Then another body slammed into both of them knocking the wind out of Janus as Remus threw Roman off of him only to pin him himself. “Hi JJ!”

“Remus, get off of me!” Janus said, shoving.

Remus did not seem inclined to oblige. “Hey, Ro.”

“You two know each other?” Roman asked, wiping off the blood coming from the side of his mouth.

“We’re double secret partners,” Remus replied with a wink.

“Oh…” Roman said seeming to get what he was implying.

“Great,” Janus said. “Now will you get the fuck off of me?”

“I don’t know,” Remus said in a sing-song tone.

“Remus,” Janus said lowly.

Remus blinked at the sudden darkness of his tone and then his eyes widened as he remembered what was happening. He was off him in seconds. “Right,” Remus said. “Jay, this is Roman. Ro, this is Janus. His brother’s missing.”

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 3 My Master Post

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

You and Kozik had been married for twenty years, your daughter turned eighteen a week ago and was currently on a date with a nineteen year old boy. Your husband Kozik was pissed. He was nervous for her, he was scared she’d get her heart broken. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he would.

You came in after a long day at work to find his pistol on the table and him in the kitchen cooking. You’re met with a sweet smile and a glass of your favorite sweet red wine. “Hey baby.” He smiles, pulling you back against him as you take a sip of your wine.

“Hey, it’s almost eleven, what are you still doing up?” You ask, as normally he was sleeping on the couch by now. You’d smile at him as you entered the living room, you always found him so peaceful.

“Making dinner, Hermione is out with that Morrow kid again.” He growls, letting go to finish cooking. Placing a platter in front of you with sliced chicken, green peppers, onions, and a side of mashed potatoes.

“Oh baby, don’t worry hunny. Don’t you remember us at that age?” You ask, smiling at him with a knowing smile. He smiles for a second, frowning.

“I sure do. And that makes it worse. I’d have shot me for the fun we had, babes.” He growls, loading his gun. With a chuckle, you pull his pistol from his hand and take it upstairs. You finished a little under half of the plate before you could barely keep your head up.

“I’m gonna head to bed, baby. Don’t be too harsh, Hemi.” You smile, pressing a warm kiss to his lips and heading back upstairs.

“Night baby!” He calls, coming up the stairs after you. He pulled off his dark, oily jeans into his oily clothes bin and crawling into the black sheets next to you, both of you in your underwear. You found so much comfort in his warm grip that in mere seconds, the circles he gently drew into your shoulders had you snoring against him. He smiled at you sleeping, kissing your forehead. “I love you so much.” He hushes, pulling you atop his chest to hold you closer and feel you breathe against his chest.

Tears filled his eyes for a second as he thought about her. His little girl. His little Harley angel. She was his light and his crazy little sidekick. She is now an adult, and the fact that he couldn’t protect her from everything scared the hell out of him. The tears in his eyes ran down his cheeks. He sniffed as quietly as he could, trying not to wake you. He loved his daughter with his whole heart, and her tears broke his whole heart. He’d do anything to keep her little forever; but he couldn’t and it was time to accept that she was going to get her heart broken. She would have to learn how to be a functioning adult and mess up sometimes.

Around midnight he heard the door open and he slid you off him, slipping into his jeans, no shirt, pistol tucked away. You watched him pad out of the room, looking sexy as hell. Once he was out of sight, you jump out of bed and grab your closest item, a tee shirt of his and a pair of shorts, padding down the stairs behind your husband.

“Hermione get up to your room. I wanna talk to the Morrow boy.” He orders, his deep voice booming through the quiet kitchen. You sneak around the corner to find the pistol laid on the table, Kozik’s arms crossed over his chest. You took a moment to soak him in, still masculine as the day you met, still strong, but still sweet. With a gentle hand to his back, you hear him sigh. Hermione watches with a little smile. She wanted what her parents have. They were her role models, the strength between them and the love that held them together, even when they fought. She found it with Keaton Morrow. She was totally in love with him. He even wanted to marry her, and she wanted to marry him.

“Daddy! Momma tell him that Keaton means well! He loves me momma! Tell daddy—“

“Christ Hermie! Shut up! Quit screeching! You’re dad hasn’t shot him yet, even after we both said eleven-thirty. And sneaking him into our house, good try darling. I learned all the tricks sneaking your dad into our house. Your grandpa shot him in the leg once. You’re lucky your dad’s nicer than pops.” You snip, pointing a finger at her. Her head hung low as she toed at the wood floor.

“Go to your room. I wanna talk to Morrow.” He growls, pointing to her door.

“Christ Herman. Stop it. If you don’t remember it wasn’t only twenty years ago Pop did the same thing to you. Said you weren’t scared, but I knew you were. Baby, he hated you for the same reason. You’d never be enough for his baby, his first daughter or only daughter. But baby! Look at her! She looks at him the same way I look at you. Give him a running start. Just a chance.” You smile, cupping his face in your hands and pulling his eyes to yours.

“Damn, baby. You’re right I guess. But you listen to me buck,” he jabs a stern finger at the boy in front of him, “you hurt her, I’ll shoot ya. Same way her grandfather shot me. We clear? And when I tell you eleven thirty. I don’t mean twelve fifteen.” He growls, pointing the gun at the young man. Your hand pulls his down, pulling the gun from his hands tucking it into the waist band of his jeans.

“Come on, baby. Back to bed. I trust you to make the right decisions. Any noises from her bedroom at all, I’ll send Mister Kozik in there with the pistol. Safety off.” You assure, grabbing Kozik’s hand and pulling him up the stairs. “Hey! You little devil!” You squeal, letting him scoop you up and carry you to bed.

“I love you baby, you really still look at me like some starry-eyed teenager?” He asks, grabbing your waist and tapping the radio’s on button. Their song started and he starts swaying back and forth, eyes never leaving yours. With a sweet little smirk, he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you too, did my dad really shoot you?” You ask, your smile faultering a little.

“Yeah, he did.” He absolutely did. You laughed as he pulled up his sleeve to show you the scar. A small round mark where the bullet exited.

“I love you so much. Sorry I lost it. I just get so scared, you know? Like, what happens when she moves out and it’s just us again. Shit babe. What would we do?” He asks, his bright blue eyes misty with unshed tears. You give a soft chuckle, framing his square jaw with your petite hands.

“Oh my sweet love, you and I will have the house to ourselves. We could do exactly what I told them not to do.” You wink, letting him walk you backwards to the bed, falling next to you and kissing your cheeks, forehead, and nose, leaving your lips for last.

“We could do whatever we want. I dare him to try that until they’re married.” He growls, nuzzling your neck with his scruff. You giggle as ‘I’m So Into You’ by SWV comes on, jumping to your feet and swinging your hips back and forth, your golden skin peeking from under his SAMTAC tee shirt.

The next morning, you hear a light knock at the door before someone walks in. Creeping downstairs, you find your father sitting at your table.

“Hey dollface.” He whispers, patting the chair next to him. You whisk into the kitchen to make coffee before scampering over to sit next to him. Sliding the chair closer, you lean your head over on his shoulder, your curly hair falling in ringlets over his shoulder as you did.

“Hey Pop, what are you doing here already?” You ask, soaking his warm arm over your shoulder when you hear your daughter come into the kitchen. “Morning baby.” You smile, pointing to the chair across from you. With a happy, sleepy smile she leans against him on his other side.

“Hi Pop. Did you really shoot daddy in the shoulder?” She asks, giving a yawn. He chuckles, nodding in confirmation. You hear Kozik’s heavy footfalls on the stairs and you grin, standing and greeting him with a sweet kiss at the entrance of the kitchen and slipping a cup of coffee into his hands.

“Thank you, baby.” He whispers, kissing your forehead and sitting at the table across from Tig.

“Hey old man.” He chuckles, shaking his hand.

“Hey kid.” He chuckles. All of a sudden, without warning, your daughter climbs into Kozik’s lap and hugs tightly to his neck.

“I love you so much, daddy. I hope you still come visit me like Pop does when I move out.” She cries into his shoulder. He smiles, a tear slipping down his cheek as he nods.

“I promise you, you’ll be begging me to stop visiting so often, babygirl. I love you, baby. You know that?” He asks, tipping her head back brushing a blonde curl from her face. She looked so much like his gorgeous wife, big frizzy curly hair, a warm sleepy smile and sweet blue eyes.

“I know, daddy. I’m just scared to grow up. You and momma make it look so easy, ya know?” She asks, hugging tightly to him still.

“I cried last night while you were out. I was thinking the same thing you are, but I’ve spent twenty years raising you, making you a stand up adult. I’m scared of what the world is gonna do to your sweet, innocent little heart, but your mom promised me you’d be okay. I want that same thing for you, baby. I want you to know the kind of pure love I get from your mom. And if I don’t give you a chance, like Tig gave me, how will you know? I’m not sorry for pulling a gun on his sorry ass, but I’m willing to get to know him.”

“Hell, he may turn out to be a pretty stand up guy. Even if he is five years older than your daughter.” Tig huffs, scowling at the new face in their kitchen. His granddaughter’s boyfriend. “Maybe not.” Tig growls, giving the boy a daringly dark look.

“You must be mister Trager. I’m Keaton Morrow.” He sticks out a hand and firmly shakes her grandfather’s hand.

“Morrow?” Tig booms.

“Daddy, it’s okay. It’s almost as bad as a Kozik.” You giggle, patting his shoulder and sitting him back down.

“I don’t know, baby. Anyway, nice to meet you. You got any ill intentions with my granddaughter?” He demands, taking a scarily calm sip of coffee.

“No sir, I’d like to marry her someday. If you and Mister Kozik would give me your blessing?” His eyes jut between your husband and your father, both frowning into their coffee cups.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” Kozik mutters, giving her a smile and kissing her forehead.

“I’ll hide the body.” Tig snips, sipping from his cup once more.

“Thank you daddy!” She cheers, gripping his neck. “Thank you Pops!” She squeals, hugging his tightly. A ringed, weathered hand pats her back.

“And the cycle continues.” You giggle, patting your daughter’s back as she hugs you.

[et-lesailes]

in it together

pairing: ari levinson (chris evans in red sea diving resort, 2019) x reader

themes: light angst n drama but a teensy bit of cute fluff at the end

word count: approx 1900

summary: you and your husband, ari levinson, are a part of a group of agents working to rescue hundreds on hundreds of ethopian-jewish refugees, all while pretending to run the red sea diving resort in sudan, africa. when the colonel comes to check in on you guys, clearly suspicious of your presence there, he gets a little handsy with you and it is safe to say ari is not very pleased.

taglist: @world-of-losers​, @viarogers​

note: requested by @clevercamijo​ // tbh this is nothing too intense, more of a drabble really-- but if you want something even more angsty, i totally got you. hehe, hope you like it though :)

** feel free to send an ask if you would like to be added to my taglist of any chris evans related fics!

You watched from the entrance of the resort with fond eyes as your husband was chatting with some guests, his wetsuit slightly unzipped and his hair blowing slightly in the breeze now that it was drier from his earlier dive. You were grateful for this experience; not only were you helping save lives from a conflict you had been incredibly passionate about fighting against ever since you had first learned about it, but you were doing it with the man you loved right by your side, leading your team. You trusted Ari more than anyone else in the entire world, and you had full faith that along with the other agents, you would succeed in your mission. 

The light smile you wore suddenly dropped from your face, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you caught sight of the familiar trucks approaching from further away. He turned his head towards the noise and you could see his shoulders barely tense, though not much else in his features or body language gave himself away; considering his occupation, he was good at acting composed, even under pressure. He politely excused himself from the guests he was talking to, wishing them well on their diving tour before making his way to you, subtly squeezing your shoulder. “Go ahead inside, honey,” he murmured, making sure his voice was quiet; as a part of your cover, it was important no one outside the agency knew that the two of you were married, because it could provide more complications and risks. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was resort owner Guy Thomas and you were Lexi Nilsson, a former member of a waitstaff at a Michelin star restaurant and now a hostess at the resort. 

You nodded your head but murmured quietly, “Be careful.” Slipping inside, you found the other agents, discreetly letting them know of the special visitors who were showing up. You watched from inside as one of the soldiers approached Ari, rolling your eyes at the cocky expression he wore as he asked your husband if his men could check out the resort’s trucks. You hated that man since you met him, and you watched his every movement warily; this was a lawless land, and hell, if he wanted to, he could probably shoot down Ari or any one of the fellow agents and get away with it.

Well, perhaps that was a stretch, but you still did not trust him. You watched as his men inspected the back of the trucks- the very same trucks you all used to smuggle the refugees to safety. You couldn’t help but hold your breath. You knew that Ari and the others did a wonderful job leaving behind no traces, but understandably, it did get your heart racing when your team was under suspicion. A small, smug smirk crossed your lips upon seeing the cocky expression fall from the colonel’s face once his men told him the trucks were empty, now only hoping that he would leave. Instead, Colonel Ahmed only invited himself in for dinner, eliciting a small groan of frustration from your lips. All you wanted was to quietly slip into your room with your husband and crawl into bed in his warm arms, to bury your head in his broad chest and let your fingers lightly play with his soft, lengthy hair. 

But instead, the man came inside, quietly informing you to resume your position as hotel staff, giving you a discreet apologetic glance before turning to Ahmed with a smile on his face, encouraging him and his soldiers to come inside and wait at the table while he went to get changed. 

_______________________

It took you everything not to punch these ogling men in their faces as you stood before them at the table, waiting patiently as they inspected the menu in front of them, though the reason they seemed to be taking so long was because their eyes were on you more than the words in front of them. You could tell that Ari could notice; he was not letting his annoyance show in any obvious ways, but you knew him well enough to read the subtle signs. The way his knuckles tensed to white as he held his glass, the slight creases appearing in his forehead the longer the men took to state their damn order, his stunning blue eyes just slightly darker than usual. Still, you avoided eye contact with him. If these soldiers even slightly picked up on the fact that the two of you had a remotely deeper relationship, it could mean trouble. 

“Would you like some more time to look over the menu, sir?” you finally questioned in the best polite voice you could muster, even managing to offer him a light smile. The colonel brought his eyes to yours, looking at you for a few moments before slowly smirking, immediately making you feel uncomfortable. “I think,” he replied with thickly accented English, “that what I want is not on this menu.” Before you could even respond, he had his arm around your waist, his strong hold suddenly jerking you right onto his lap. Your eyes rounded in surprise, your expression one of pure shock as you locked eyes onto Ari’s, immediately starting to squirm. “Hey! P-please, let go of me!” you demanded; normally, you would punch this pervert’s teeth in, but even in a situation like this, you knew you could not risk giving up your cover. You were supposed to be an innocent member of the waitstaff at the resort, and you would commit to your role as seriously as possible if it meant saving lives. 

Ari looked just as shocked as he immediately stood up, eyes narrowed; you could tell it was also taking everything in him to not grab the bastard and throw him onto the floor. “Let go of my employee, please,” he spoke through grit teeth, glaring down Ahmed with a look of disapproval and authority. “Oh, but Mr Thomas,” the colonel spoke nonchalantly, his fingers squeezing your waist only making you squirm further in discomfort as you tried to fight his hold. “How can I help myself? You see, all the native women here look exactly the same-- so boring. When such exquisite foreigners come, I get… excited.” He gave you a sleazy grin, making you practically want to throw up all over him. “How about we make a deal? You let me have the pretty woman, and I leave you and your resort alone.” Your husband looked at the man in complete disgust, not even bothering to hide it anymore. “Listen, Colonel-- I’m not sure how you run things here, nor do I want to know. But if you don’t get your hands off of her, I will take serious measures to make sure you won’t even have the status to come look at this damn resort, do you understand?” You bit on your lip as you felt Ahmed’s grip barely tighten in anger before slowly relaxing, though he still was not letting you go. Slowly leaning into your ear, you felt his warm breath on your skin as he muttered, “Where are you from, beautiful?” You shut your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to remain composed and to not completely lose it as you quietly replied, “I’m from the United States. I was raised in Minnesota.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Ari slowly slide the knife beside his plate underneath the table, but you averted your gaze from him, instead focusing on the floor so that you would not have to even look towards the disgusting man violating your personal space at the moment.

He suddenly stood up, bringing you right up with him as he kept his hold on your waist-- and that was when all chaos ensued. Ari was immediately up and at him with the knife pointed at his neck, and Ahmed’s soldiers were all standing with their guns pointed at Ari. Ahmed himself looked thoroughly unfazed, even giving Ari his creepy little smile as he stared him down, still holding you tightly by his side. “You have no power over me, Mr Thomas,” he hissed, and you could see the heat practically radiating from Ari’s anger. “Let. Her. Go. I won’t say it again.” He growled lowly, keeping a firm hold on the knife, his eyes locked onto Ahmed’s fearlessly. The staredown lasted a few moments longer before one of the men behind Ari suddenly whacked him in the head with his gun, a gasp escaping your lips as you watched your husband fall onto his knees as he let out a groan of pain. Ahmed simply chuckled as he let you go, eyeing both of you somewhat suspiciously but scoffing. “I’m not hungry anymore,” he spoke with a casual smirk, barely snickering before turning around and leaving with his men.

_______________________

You sighed softly as you gently inspected Ari’s head, making sure there was no swelling before settling yourself back into the sand next to him, eyes flickering over the waters in front of you. “What a fucking dick,” you mumbled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, suddenly wrapping his arm around you pulling you close to him. “Tell me about it. I wish I could have just stuck that knife in his fuckin’ throat.” He muttered in response, but you were too busy looking around nervously, already trying to distance yourself from the male. “Ari, we’re outside, we shouldn’t--” you began to whisper, but you were cut off by his lips on yours, one large hand moving to frame the side of your face while his other arm pulled you closer to his body. “Then the guests can start rumors about how the hotel owner’s fucking his waitress. I don’t care. Sweetheart, I was so worried about you today.”

You couldn’t help but smile against his lips, kissing him back allowing yourself to melt in his warm and loving embrace. “I’m okay,” you whispered reassuringly, moving your own hand up to stroke his hair gently away from his face. “We’re both okay. And that’s not going to change.” He gave you a small smile, looking into your eyes with complete love and adoration for a few moments before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “I can’t wait until we’ve succeeded with this mission. When we’ve saved every single refugee, every man, woman, child, family-- and... I can’t wait until we can finally go home together and start a family of our own.” He pressed his forehead against yours, looking down into your eyes. “It’s going to happen soon, baby, I know it.” Your smile only grew wider as you listened to him, gazing up into his eyes almost dreamily as you thought about it. You, Ari, and your little baby, whomever he or she may be. You could only hope that child would have the same passion and bravery that their father had, though at the same time, such a prospect concerned you as a future mother. 

Still stroking his hair, you pecked his lips lightly with a breathy chuckle, murmuring, “I love you so much, Ari Levinson.” It had been a while since you had used his full name, considering the two of you had been undercover for quite some time now. He smiled and suddenly stood up, holding your hand to pull you up with him before wrapping his arms around your waist tightly, your full name rolling off his tongue slowly and delicately as if he simply enjoyed the mere experience of saying it himself. “I love you,” he whispered back, glancing towards the waves shimmering under the moonlight before looking back to you, placing a hand on the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss, as if professing his love to you in front of the god of the seas himself. 

[klove0511]

Welcome to Your Future

Title: Welcome to Your Future Author: klove0511 Artist: ncdover1285 Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: T Warnings/Spoilers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, season 9/10 Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, implied unrequited sam/cas, Show level violence, Demon Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Suicide (no actual suicide) Summary:  When Dean is suddenly pulled through time, he's confronted with a broken little brother a decade older than he should be. With Sam determined to send Dean back to his own time, will Dean be able to figure out where his present day counterpart is and fix things for Sam? Art: Tumblr  Story:  Ao3

Dean checked his hand, checked the pot in the middle of the table, then glanced at his fellow players. Two had folded already, and he was sure the last guy was bluffing. So was Dean, mostly. A pair of tens wasn't a phenomenal hand but it was better than nothing. He glanced again at his cards, put on a calculated grin and said, "Raise," as he tossed another few bills into the pot. 

The guy's eyes did the same dance between Dean, his cards, and the pot, and he took a swig of his beer before he tossed his cards down. "Fold. Congrats, kid."

Dean grinned but tried to keep it out of the realm of cockiness. He'd won fair and square, but there was no need to rub it in their faces. He collected his winnings and straightened the bills, estimating that he had at least $500 in his hand. A good place to call it for the night. No need to play until they got desperate enough to pick a fight. He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and took his leave, relieved when none of the guys looked too disgruntled. It had been a good night, and he wasn't looking for trouble. 

The cool night air was refreshing after the smoky atmosphere of the bar. He took a deep breath and made his way to the Impala. He'd drive back to his motel, then check in with his dad in the morning. They were on separate hunts at the moment, and Dean had finished his early. Tomorrow, he'd find out if Dad needed backup in Arizona or if he had another case for Dean to work. Tonight, he'd count his winnings and get a good night sleep for once. 

He was maybe ten steps from the car when his stomach lurched, and the world tilted sideways. Throwing his hands out to catch himself, he fought down nausea as his vision blacked out momentarily before resolving into a dimly lit room that he didn’t recognize.

When the world stopped spinning, Dean took stock. He was in a library with heavy oak tables and stone pillars, filled with low half bookcases and a variety of swords. Someone was passed out in one of the seats. Not a public library, then, but some rich asshole's house. His gaze flicked around, searching for a threat or an explanation, before settling on the figure slumped over one of the tables. His instincts tingled. Long hair, but tall and built like a guy. Plaid flannel shirt. Smelled like cheap whiskey. At least a dozen books were strewn across the table, and at the next table over were a bunch of herbs by a beaten-up copper bowl. Dean’s eyes danced over the guy, noting at least two bulges that probably indicated concealed weapons. Make that a rich, armed asshole. And maybe a witch.

He didn't know what a witch would want with him, but he was sure it wasn't good.

He pulled his own gun from the small of his back before slowly approaching. He considered just shooting the bastard, but he could use some answers. Where he was, for starters. He got close, almost close enough to touch, when the guy groaned and rolled his head to the side, one hand fumbling for the empty tumbler just out of reach. Dean stepped back out of the guy's range and flicked off the safety.

The soft click was obviously enough to alert the witch, though, because he froze, hardly even breathing. The hair moved, revealing a beard and a jawline that sparked recognition deep in his gut. But his dad would never let his hair grow that long. And it was hard to tell when he was sitting, but Dean was pretty sure this guy was longer and leaner than John Winchester had ever been. Never mind the spell ingredients. John Winchester wouldn't be caught dead using magic.

"Who are you?" he asked, lowering his voice to a growl in an attempt to intimidate.

If possible, the guy in front of him stilled further. He was statuesque, could have been carved from marble for all he moved. Finally, an eternity later, the guy breathed out a name, reverent and disbelieving. "Dean?"

He didn't recognize the voice, but the guy clearly knew who Dean was. Which made sense, given the circumstances. The evidence pointed to Dean being summoned via some spell this jerk had done. He hadn't heard about anyone summoning a person before, but he learned new things every day.

The guy never answered the question, just turned slowly and sat up until Dean could see his face. The familiarity lurched against his consciousness again. He didn't know this guy, but... he did. He was older, bearded, and broken, but he thought he recognized his kid brother under there. He faltered, lowered the gun minutely. "Sam?" he asked, unsure.

The guy's eyes widened in what might be surprise or fear, but he nodded.

Nausea threatened to overtake him again. Dean may not have an explanation yet for what the hell was going on, but he believed this guy. Sam. He believed Sam. Instantly, he dropped his aim, turning on the safety and holstering the gun in one smooth motion. Still, he was wary. This wasn't his little brother, not really. Not unless school had aged him a decade or more.

This Sam was gaping at him like a fish, or like he was some kind of fucking miracle, which sat all kinds of wrong with Dean. He didn't seem like he was going to start supplying answers on his own any time soon though, so Dean was going to have to take the initiative.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings in light of this new information. "Want to tell me what's going on, Sam?"

Sam swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. "I don't know." He glanced back at Dean with a shrewd look. "What year is it for you?"

That confirmed one thing, anyway, though he was sure Sam was lying through his teeth about not knowing what was going on. "2004.”

Sam started, leaning back in surprise.

Dean waited, cocking an eyebrow. Sam needed to give him something. Some explanation.

Sam's jaw worked and a furrow appeared between his eyes. He gave a weird half smirk that Dean couldn't interpret and said, "Welcome to 2014."

 Alone in his room, Sam couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. The spell had worked. Just not how he'd intended. Certainly not how he had expected it to work. Dean at 24 was a sight to behold, all confidence and cocky attitude, full of easy grins and so much optimism. Dean had thought he was being skeptical, sure, but the second he knew he was talking to Sam he'd dropped his guard. Sam's Dean would never. Not now, not after having met too many doppelgangers of themselves or people they knew. It stung, but it was safer, and he breathed easier knowing that his Dean would have asked for proof that he was really Sam.

It felt good, though, knowing Dean was in the bunker again, even if it was the wrong Dean. Tomorrow he was going to have to figure out how to send him back to 2004, and then go back to figuring out how to find his brother, or, more likely, his brother's dead body. He still had nothing more than a shitty note to go on, and he had already been scraping the bottom of the barrel with this spell. Cas had told him it wasn't likely to work, and Sam just hadn't cared. A slim chance was better than no chance. Of course, it hadn't worked. Had instead yanked his brother (his gorgeous, alive, never gone to Hell brother) from the past. Even younger than the version that had pulled Sam back into the life, the version Sam had been entirely unable to resist.

He closed his eyes and willed away his erection. His brother was dead, and this vision from his past needed to go away before he did something truly inappropriate. Worse, before Dean found out just how bad things got in the next decade of his life and decided Sam wasn't worth coming to Stanford for. Or... No. They'd learned, painfully, that messing with the past did nothing. Warning Dean of all the problems Sam would cause in the future wouldn't do anything good. Wouldn't stop the Apocalypse. Wouldn't bring Sam's brother back. It would just erase the trust that he had maintained in Sam for years, warranted or not, and it had been that trust that kept Sam going after losing Jess and Dad.

 Dean sat alone in the room Sam had given him. It was bare and musty, like it hadn't been used in years. He had a lot of questions that Sam hadn't been willing to answer, and honestly, Dean thought they were both probably too drunk for a useful Q and A tonight. That was why he'd agreed to go to bed and figure things out in the morning. The problem was that he couldn't sleep, and the questions circling his brain were getting louder with every lap. Chief among them was what the hell was going on with Sam? Even factoring in the extra decade that Sam had lived, he looked old. Worse, he looked desperate. Dean just wondered what he was desperate for. The question that followed naturally from there was where the hell was 2014 Dean? He should be here taking care of his brother when he was such a mess. Sam hadn't denied that he'd been doing spell work, which, best case scenario, meant that he was hunting again. What had happened to the Sam that wanted out of the life at any cost? Who had turned his back on his family to go to college? Something had gone down, and Dean was absolutely sure he wasn't going to like it when he found out. No matter how mad he was that Sam had wanted a normal life more than he'd wanted his family, no matter how much he resented that Sam got a shot at college and a life that wasn't hunting, Dean had been proud of his brother for making it into Stanford. 

The way Sam had looked at him—it was unsettling. Dean wasn't sure where the present version of himself was, but with that look... Well, Dean had suspicions. He wasn't going to get any sleep until he had some answers, so it was time to do some digging. He padded out into the hall, careful to keep his footsteps quiet. Sam had said he was in room 21, and a quick check of his door revealed that Sam had put him in 15. Heading away from Sam's room, he started checking doors as he went. Three rooms identical to his, down to the mothball smell, and then he hit the jackpot with room 11. Weapons were mounted on the walls, the bed was rumpled, as if it had been used recently, and the air was fresh. Reasonably fresh. Ok, it smelled like old pizza and gym socks, but at least it smelled like something besides dust and stale air. His eyes were drawn to the box of magazines on the desk as he flicked on the light, and he knew he was in the right spot. A box stuffed full of Busty Asian Beauties could only mean that he was in his room. Dean's room. Current him's room. Whatever.

There were photos on the bedside table, and he grinned as he flipped through them. He didn't recognize most of them, but he knew why they lived in a prominent place. Happy memories, all of them. It was weird, watching Sammy grow up in stutter stops across the four pictures he was in, and Dean frowned, realizing nothing looked recent. The last picture of Sam was easily years younger than the Sam he'd met tonight. Replacing the pictures on the table, he did a slow inventory of the room. There was a note on the bed, and on closer inspection, there were stains on the bedspread. Blood. Diluted blood, like someone had cleaned wounds here and never bothered to clean up. A touch revealed that it was dry and stiff. Days old at least, no telling if it was more than that. He checked the note.

Sammy, let me go.

He recognized his own handwriting but felt nothing other than confusion. Why would he write a note like this? This place was awesome, and he knew, instinctively, that no matter what else had changed in the intervening decade he would kill to have his own room. The decorative touches spoke of someone who had settled in, who wanted to be here. Not a Dean that was planning on leaving his brother. He frowned harder. How could this have happened? He managed to get his brother back, despite years of no contact while Sam was at Stanford. A decade later and they were still together, living in the same weird mansion with no windows. They had made it. Hell, they had both made it past their thirtieth birthdays, a feat he hadn't even dared to hope was possible.

So why had he left?

Blood on the sheets. Note saying to let him go. A profoundly messed up little brother. A room so untouched it may as well be a shrine to present day Dean. If it hadn't been for the note in his own handwriting, he'd say 2014 him was dead. With the note... Hunt gone wrong? Dean must have blamed himself, so he took off. Which meant it had probably been Sam hurt. Judging by the quantity of blood on the comforter, it had been bad. He cursed himself. He'd probably patched Sam up and ditched as soon as he was stable enough to leave alone.

The thought of patching Sam up in this room, rather than taking him to his own spoke volumes to Dean. They had separate rooms, but this Dean obviously loved his brother as much as Dean did. He shuddered at the thought that maybe that affection had been given voice, and that was why he'd fled.

He turned off the lamp and closed the door. Time to see the rest of this place.

 Sam stumbled into the kitchen and was surprised to find it smelled of freshly brewed coffee. It cut through the hangover fog enough to jolt Sam into confusion for a moment, and then he remembered. His brother (not his brother, not his brother) was sitting at the table, contemplating his cup of coffee and picking at a plate piled high with bacon. Dean looked like he was nursing a mild hangover himself, which made Sam wonder what he'd been doing before the spell had caught him.

Dean smirked at him, which Sam ignored, then said, "Interesting place you got here, Sammy."

Sam groaned internally. He should have known Dean would go exploring if he left him alone for two minutes without any answers. Still, he didn't want to give anything away that might screw up the timeline. It would be his luck to accidentally change something and find himself in a future that was even worse than the hell he was currently living in. 

When his silence continued past the limits of Dean's patience, Dean made a frustrated noise. "Come on, man. I know last night wasn't the time, but you've got to tell me what the hell is going on. You were wasted and doing spells powerful enough to pull me through freaking time. Talk to me."

Sam sighed and relented, if only slightly. He poured himself a cup of coffee and said, "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't do the spell drunk. Got wasted after it didn't work."

There was a pregnant pause, then Dean said softly, "What was it supposed to do, Sam?"

Sam's heart broke all over again, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and grip the counter to ground himself. "It was supposed to find you. Just not you from 10 years ago."

The silence in the room was oppressive, and Sam waited for Dean to ask the obvious question. When he didn't, Sam steeled himself and turned around to face his brother. Dean was staring into his coffee mug, unreadable expression on his face.

Sam stumbled over his thoughts, wanting to fix this, to make it better somehow. He'd just ripped his brother out of time and then told him that he wasn't supposed to be here. No way that hadn't hurt. "I—Dean, I'm glad you're here. It's good to see you again. It's just—"

"I'm not him," Dean said quietly, firmly. He didn't sound upset, exactly, but Sam had been around Dean long enough to hear the layers of emotion hiding in his brother's voice. "Why did he leave?" Sam shook his head in denial, but Dean continued, "I found the note."

Sam blanched. "Honestly? I don't know." He gripped his mug and moved to sit across from Dean. "I don't know why he left. Or why he just left that shitty note." He paused. "Sorry," he said, as an afterthought.

 Dean watched Sam bend over the books, trying to figure out a reversal spell that would send Dean back to his own time. They hadn't really talked at all, and Dean didn't know what to make of it. Sam refused to talk about the bloodstains on the comforter, and he seemed to be telling the truth when he said he didn't know why his Dean had walked. That said, Sam was definitely hiding something. He may not know the exact reason, but he knew a lot more than he was letting on. Unfortunately, the guy was dead set on "preserving the timeline" and nothing Dean had said over breakfast seemed able to dissuade him. 

He tried to distract himself from checking out Sam by instead checking out the library. It was tough, though. Sam had filled out over the years and barely resembled the scrawny kid he'd driven to the bus station on his way to Palo Alto and a normal life. Dean clenched his jaw and turned back to the bookshelf in front of him. He recognized a few titles from Bobby's library, but most of the books he'd never heard of. There was no organization that he could make sense of, but that was probably because half the books were in languages he couldn't read. Sam probably could. He'd always had a better head for language than Dean, and with a decade to practice and pick up new ones, Dean would have been surprised if there were any books here Sam couldn't translate. 

Peeking behind him, he studied Sam's broad shoulders. They were gorgeous, even if they were tense. Sam had obviously kept himself in shape over the years, and Dean wondered if getting wasted like last night was the norm now or not. Their dad had started going soft in the middle when his drinking kicked up after Sam had left, and it didn't look like that was happening to Sam's waist. But if it was new... It didn't matter because Sam didn't want his help. It had hurt when he'd realized that this morning, that Sam wanted the brother who had abandoned him. 

It just didn't make sense. Sam hadn't hinted at anything, really. Just that the blood on the bed had been Dean's, not Sam's. Still a hunt gone wrong then, but Dean couldn't fathom what had possessed him to leave. Dean had been hurt before, plenty of times. He'd even been hurt because Sam or their dad made a mistake. But that's all they were, mistakes. He'd never held a grudge so hard that he'd walk on his family like this. It all spoke to something far more broken than he wanted to think about, because how could things have gone this wrong between him and Sam? Even in his own time, he would do anything to stay near Sam if his brother would let him. 

Sam was muttering to himself and mixing ingredients. Looked like he'd found the spell he needed then. 

Dean moved over to the table. He didn't do chick flick moments, but he couldn't just leave without saying something to comfort Sam. He cleared his throat, already feeling awkward. "Look, Sam. I—" He sighed, frustrated. "I don't know what the hell would make me walk out on you like that, but I can tell you this: I have always been proud of you. No matter what. Ok? I, uh, don't know that I'd ever have the nerve to tell you that if I wasn't currently Marty McFly." He hoped Sam understood. He knew he was never going to tell that to his little brother when they joined up. Too many emotions too close to the surface, still too fresh for both of them. But this Sam, well. He had distance from college, and it seemed like in the end he'd chosen Dean anyway. It made it easier, somehow.

Sam's eyes were wide, his expression something Dean wasn't sure how to interpret. Sad? Shocked? Relieved? Some bizarre combination of all that and more. Yeah. Clearly their family was still great at communication.

"Dean—" Sam stopped, obviously biting back whatever he'd been about to say. After a moment he started again. "Stanford was never about leaving you."

He pasted on a cocky grin, suddenly desperate to not show Sam how much his leaving still hurt, even two years later. Even if he had already known that it wasn't about him, that it had been about Sam needing to assert his independence from Dad and just the way those two personalities conflicted. Sam always needed an explanation for things; it was part of what had always made him great at research. Dad expected his sons to follow his lead, and Dean could admit that he provided explanations far less often than he maybe should. The difference had always been that Dean trusted their dad completely, and Sam didn't.

 Sam had no idea how to explain to his brother how devastating it was to hear that parody of his Dean's dying words, spoken just a few weeks ago. It—He couldn't. Not without risking everything. For a moment he thought about it. Telling this Dean everything. There was no way his life could get worse than this miserable existence he was currently living, after all. But no, there was too much at stake. He might not end up in a worse version of his existence, but the world might. Lucifer, at least, was safely locked away, and Abaddon was dead. They had done that. No matter what he wanted personally, he had to keep the bigger picture in mind. Besides, his Dean had left him a note. While he couldn't fathom an explanation for that, he wasn't going to rest until he had one, until he found Dean.

He swallowed and clenched his jaw to keep himself from spilling everything. The only thing he trusted himself to give Dean in answer was a short nod, and he knew it wasn't enough. But it was all he had, so Dean would just have to deal with it. They could talk it out in a decade.

Turning back to the spell, he continued mixing components, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember if he'd added the yarrow root yet or not. He surveyed the contents of the bowl. He... had. That powder looked like the yarrow. Moving on, he continued adding ingredients and chanting under his breath. He didn't look at Dean, didn't want to watch him disappear back to his own time, even though he knew it had to happen. With a flourish, he threw in the final herb and watched the surprisingly small puff of smoke rise and dissipate into nothing. It was done.

From behind him, he heard Dean ask, "Was that it? Because I'm still here, dude."

Sam's eyes flew open as he spun to see Dean still standing there, arms crossed and looking deeply unimpressed. "What? How—?" He turned back to his spell book and ingredients. The damn yarrow. Of course. Only.... No, he looked at the bottle, and it looked like he had definitely added it. Sam rummaged through the ingredients for a few more minutes, eyes darting between ingredients, bowl, and spell, until Dean put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Sam, stop."

Sam stilled, about ready to throw something in frustration. No wonder he hadn't been able to find his Dean. He apparently couldn't do any magic right these days.

Dean spoke gently. "Look, you're tired, and you're obviously stressed out. Bobby always told us that magic is best done with a clear head, right? If I had to guess, that's about the worst description for you right now. Take a day. Let me help if I can. And then we'll figure out a way to get me home together." He paused, giving Sam a chance to answer that he didn't take. Dean sighed. "I'm sorry it didn't work."

Sam hung his head and leaned heavily on the table. "I'm sorry I keep letting you down."

He could almost feel Dean working to unpack that, trying to figure out what Sam was referring to. There was a long pause, and Sam wondered what Dean was thinking, if he was going to push Sam to talk again. After Jess's death, Dean had been a strange combination of pushy and hands off with Sam, trying to give him space until Sam pushed himself or Dean too far and Dean felt the need to prod answers out of him. It hadn't been overly effective then, and Sam didn't think it would work on him now. 

Dean let his hand drop, though, without a word. Sam fought the urge to watch his brother leave the library, instead forcing his gaze to remain on the table in front of him.

 Dean avoided Sam for the rest of the day. He prowled through the entirety of the bunker, exploring every nook and cranny he could find now that he wasn't drunk and exhausted, looking for any further clues as to his counterpart's whereabouts. He found the shooting range, the garage full of old cars (notably missing the Impala), the infirmary, and the archives. There was also the herb garden outside that looked like it had been recently plundered for Sam's spells. But mostly there were just seemingly endless dorm rooms, identical to the one he had slept in last night. One other looked and smelled like it had been used in the recent past, but it was just as plain and boring as the rest. No one had stayed there long enough to move in. Dean longed to see Sam's room, but there was a decent enough chance of finding Sam there that he didn't try. 

Eventually, though, he found himself back in present Dean's room. It felt like home, even though he hadn't yet laid hands on most of the personal items in here. It still felt right, like it was tailor made to make him feel comfortable. He supposed it had been. 

A simple survey wasn't going to cut it this time, though. He needed answers, and Sam was too reluctant to give them up. Looking around the room for the best place to start, he decided to be methodical. Each desk drawer was opened and rifled through, carefully catalogued and replaced before he moved on to the next one. There wasn't much. By the time he was done, he'd been most impressed by just how many shirts he'd managed to accrue now that he didn't have to cram them all in a duffel bag. But he also noted just how many things had been left behind. It hadn't caught his attention yesterday, but those pictures, at the very least, should be gone. This wasn't the room of someone who had decided they'd had enough and moved on. This Dean had left in a hurry. He wasn't sure what it meant, yet.

Further investigation yielded a lot of nothing. It looked more like future Dean had vanished than packed a bag, and Dean was struggling to come up with an explanation. Turning back to the bed, he did another survey. The whole thing was slightly rumpled, like someone had been laying on it. Ok. The blood was everywhere, but maybe more concentrated at the head of the bed. So, wounds, probably in the chest area. Dangerous, if they were deep enough, but there wasn't enough blood here to kill a man. He lay down, hoping by some miracle that looking at the room from his counterpart's perspective shortly before he'd left would provide some insight he'd been missing up to now. 

The mattress molded itself to his body, easily the most comfortable thing he'd laid on in his entire life. For a moment he lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what would make him leave a sweet place like this behind. Rolling over, he buried his head in the comfortable pillow, feeling exhaustion and the lingering effects of his hangover pulling him toward sleep, despite the weirdness of the situation. He breathed in deep and promptly gagged, rolling away from the pillow and coughing to clear the putrid smell. "Holy shit. What the hell is that?" he wondered to himself. Another, much more cautious, sniff revealed a lingering rotten egg smell. That was... weird. Everything here was weird. This, at least, was a weird thing he could take to Sam and demand an explanation for.

It took a while, but he eventually found Sam in the library on his third try. Wherever Sam had been before that was someplace Dean hadn't found yet. Maybe this place had magic changing rooms like Hogwarts. 

Sam looked even worse than he had at breakfast. His hair was lank and greasy, and the bags under his eyes were darkening into bruises. Dean watched him quietly for a few minutes, keeping himself out of sight. He wasn't spying per se, just....observing. Who knows what secrets this Sam might reveal when he thought he was alone? In this case, just another indication that Winchesters were prone to alcoholism. After Sam poured out his third shot in ten minutes, Dean decided he needed to intervene before his brother wouldn't be able to answer any questions, at least not intelligibly. 

"Day drinking? Seriously? I thought you didn't want to be like Dad," Dean said, putting on his most affronted face and voice. 

Sam just lolled his head towards Dean, mind clearly already slowing down. Damn it. Sam must have had a few before Dean found him.

He sighed in frustration. "Fine. Look, just tell me why your Dean's bed smells like something died there, and I'll leave you to your liver poisoning, all right?"

A pained look crossed Sam's face, so grief-stricken that Dean almost told him to forget it. But then Sam said, "Because you died."

He continued babbling, but Dean wasn't listening anymore. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he tried to process that, and in the meantime the rest of the world took on a surreal quality. In a decade, he would be dead. He always expected to die young, he did, just. Hearing it felt different somehow. Seeing his little brother like this was different. After Sam had left for Stanford and made it clear he didn't want or need his family to contact him Dean had made assumptions. Like how he would probably die in his twenties because he didn't have backup, or how Sam may never even know he was dead. Confronted with a grieving Sam who had been living with Dean for years was something unexpected and much more painful. The thought of Sam not knowing or caring had hurt, of course, but it was a different animal to see him grieving. He couldn't help but put himself in Sam's position. How well would he be handling it if Sam were dead?

Then he came back to the note. Sammy, let me go. He frowned, putting pieces together and not liking the picture that was emerging. Future Dean hadn't packed or taken anything, left those pictures behind too, and those had to be some of his most prized possessions. Left a note. And... had died. Shit.

"Sam? Did—" He swallowed, trying to figure out how to ask if he'd killed himself and if so, why.

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, clearly not following Dean's train of thought. 

He gave up. He couldn't ask. More than anything, he didn't want to know, but besides that he didn't want to make Sam relive it if he had committed suicide. He didn't want to watch Sam reliving it. And it didn't actually explain the smell. The Winchesters were familiar with death and the smells that went with it, and sulfur wasn't one of them. Another horrible thought crossed his mind, and he stumbled away from Sam. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, instinctively reaching to stop Dean's retreat. 

"How long were we on the road together?" His voice was shaky, praying that it wasn't true. The only things he could think of that involved sulfur in their lives were demons, and he'd heard plenty about what happened after you made a deal with one. 

Sam hesitated, reticent as ever to divulge information about his past if it wasn't something Dean had experienced yet, but whatever expression Dean was wearing must have convinced him. Or maybe he just didn't care as much because of the alcohol, who knew. "Nine years. I started hunting again in 2005."

Dean racked his brain. That wasn't long enough, he thought. He certainly didn't have Sam's talents for encyclopedic knowledge, but he was no slouch when it came to knowledge about the supernatural. Everything Bobby or Pastor Jim or Caleb or their dad had said about the monsters out there was stored somewhere in his brain, and he was pretty sure he remembered something about ten years in connection with demons. Maybe he was wrong, though, because if he had died, and his pillow smelled like sulfur, there weren't a lot of other explanations.

"Dean, talk to me. What's going on?"

He couldn't chicken out of this question. "Did I make a demon deal to get you on the road with me?" His words came out in a rush, leaving him breathless and edging ever nearer to panic. No way would he do that. Right? He had accepted that Sam had left them. Had left him. 

Sam looked shocked into silence, his mouth working to form an answer. When nothing appeared to be forthcoming, he resorted to slamming the shot of whiskey he'd poured before Dean interrupted him and pouring himself another. When he finally found his voice, it was rough and broken. "Why do you think you made a deal?"

Dean winced at how Sam refused to meet his eyes. He may not know this Sam as well as his own, but he knew how to read body language. Sam's Dean had obviously done some stupid shit in the past. "The pillow smells like sulfur. I know they're pretty far out of our league, but that means demons, right?"

Sam barked a laugh that was in no way funny. Dean swallowed hard, just a little afraid of the person his brother had turned into. Sam eventually knocked back a swallow of his whiskey and said, "Yeah, it does. The pillow smelled?"

Dean nodded and watched as Sam stalked to his brother's room. 

 Sulfur. But Crowley had no-showed that night, hadn't he? Sam had waited and waited in the dungeon, until finally he accepted that the demon wasn't coming and returned to his brother. Only Dean was long gone, leaving only that note behind. But if Sam had summoned Crowley to the bunker and he'd been in Dean's room... why would Dean's pillow smell? He flung open the door to Dean's room and grabbed the pillow, breathing deep. Gagging, he threw the pillow back on the bed. Definitely sulfur. It didn't make sense, but it was a lead that he didn't have before. 

Sam's phone rang, the shrill noise piercing the silent room. Sam flinched at the sudden noise, but he pulled out his phone to glance at the caller ID. Cas. He sighed and dismissed the call. It was the third or fourth call he'd ditched from the angel today, and he knew he couldn't avoid his friend forever. He just wasn't ready to hear the "I told you so" that was inevitably coming his way. Besides, Cas couldn't help. Or if he could then he shouldn't. Sam wasn't sure exactly how stolen grace worked, but he'd seen how weak Cas was these days. He'd even caught the angel sleeping a few times, to his dismay. If Cas offered to fix Sam's mistake by sending Dean back to the past where he belonged, then Sam would have to stop him. Dean needed to go back, of course, but not at the expense of the last of Cas's strength. Besides, Dean wasn't supposed to know about angels for a few more years. If he met Cas, who knows what would get screwed up. Later. He'd call Cas later and fill him in, tell him to make himself scarce until he heard from Sam. 

Sam turned back to the bed. Reverently, he touched the comforter, the last place he'd seen his brother's body. He had to check. Drawing close, he sniffed. Yes, buried under the metallic tang of blood and the gun oil smell Sam always associated with Dean there was sulfur. He closed his eyes. That was probably a really bad sign.

For the next few minutes, Sam sniffed everything in the room, finding more sulfur on the chair beside the bed but nowhere else. Crowley must have been in here. Sam could practically see him in his mind's eye, sitting in the chair beside Dean's dead body. The options for why Dean's body had disappeared and left behind the smell of sulfur on the sheets were disappointingly limited. Ok, there was one that Sam knew of, and even thinking about some demon riding Dean's dead body around the world being Crowley's lackey made his blood boil.

He sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. Before he could fix that he needed to deal with his mistake and get this other version of Dean out of here. 

"What did you find?" Dean's voice behind him startled Sam badly, and he spun, eyes wide in panic. 

After a moment during which he tried to bury his reaction as far down as he could, he said, "Not much. Just confirmed what you said." 

"Sam, what the hell did I do?" 

Sam didn't turn and look at Dean, couldn't stand to. This Dean sounded so young. Like it was barely conceivable that he would make a deal to keep his brother close, and he looked devastated at the thought that he'd done just that. Sam wanted to comfort him, but he couldn't find the words. Because Dean did do those things, had made deals like that. Just not the one he was currently accusing himself of making. "You didn't make a deal to get me out of school." That, at least, was a true statement, and it made Sam breathe a little easier. If he had made that deal, then he wouldn't have had anything left to bargain with when Sam died in Cold Oak. Now he just needed to figure out how to break the rest of it to him. Or not. This was still a terrible idea. 

Dean made a noise of frustration, slamming his fist into the wall and making Sam flinch hard. "Damn it, Sam, I know I did something. And don't give me that crap about not changing the timeline, because seriously? You want to preserve this? You're miserable and drunk, and I'm dead. Who knows where Dad even is since you won't talk about him. What exactly are you trying to protect here?"

Sam closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. Dean didn't know. He couldn't know. But... he needed to know. Sam was always being told how strong he was, but he knew the truth. He was a weak man who would do anything for the brother he loved more than anything else in the world. "There's always a chance it turns out worse. You understand that, right? If I tell you anything, there's a chance that it all goes to hell faster and worse than it did anyway."

"I don't care. I can't help you if you keep me in the dark like this." He sounded determined, confident. Sam knew it was mostly bravado, but it confirmed his own resolve to throw caution to the wind.

"We should get comfortable then. This is a long story."

 Dean was numb, trying to process everything Sam had told him. They had saved the world—that, he finally understood, was the outcome Sam was most concerned about preserving. But the cost had been... He scrubbed a hand down his face. They'd lost so many people. There were holes in the story, of course, and Dean didn't want to ask, didn't want to know for sure, but he was pretty sure their dad was long dead. Sam had stopped talking about him early on. It was good to know they'd killed the thing that destroyed their family, at least. That was something. And they'd met their mom. Because apparently time travel was a thing they did now. Dean was not thrilled to hear that they'd already tried to change the past without success, but maybe this time it would work? Maybe not. Sam had made it sound like there had been a lot of manipulation going on behind the scenes by both Heaven and Hell, and Dean had trouble believing Heaven actually existed. According to Sam it was a pretty shitty place, though. Which was another thing. Sam hadn't said it explicitly, but Dean could read between the lines well enough. At some point Sam had died too. 

That was the worst part. 

He couldn't imagine it. Sam had implied that deals had been made, people brought back to life, and he knew. If his little brother had died, then he would absolutely make that deal. Leaving Sam dead, living without him, was not an option. It was different with him at school. Dean might be lonely, but he could see Sam on campus whenever he was in California. Had, more than once. It hurt, but not like this. Which was ridiculous, because Sam was sitting across from him, perfectly healthy.

Sam was also patiently waiting for a response beyond deafening silence and complete shock. 

Dean tried to pull himself together. "Remind me again why you didn't want to mess up the timeline?"

Sam chuckled darkly. "We're alive. Or, we were. And we saved the world against all odds. That's worth something."

"Yeah. But." Dean closed his eyes again, let himself really feel the grief over losing his brother that he knew Sam had to be feeling right now too. "What happened before I got here? Where am I? You said I died, but you were doing a summoning spell. Where did you think you were summoning me from?"

Sam looked away, chagrined. "I don't know. I was desperate. Considering the sulfur you found, I think a demon took you." Or your body. Sam didn't have to say it for Dean to hear the unspoken caveat.

He nodded. "One more question, then I swear I'm done asking. You never mentioned—" He trailed off, unsure how to ask. "After your—After you left Stanford. Was there anyone—?" He needed to know, though he wasn't sure why. It was hardly important in the grand scheme. Still, the two of them had been together, living and hunting and sharing space, for almost a decade. And Dean hadn't met anyone else yet in this place. It gave him hope that he wasn't sure he deserved to have. 

Before Sam could answer, the door at the top of the stairs crashed open and a man in a beige trench coat shouted, "Sam?"

Sam startled badly at the sound of the door opening, but he didn’t look surprised when he heard the voice. Interesting. 

Dean followed Sam out of the library reluctantly, keeping his distance.

"Hey, Cas," Sam said. 

Dean appraised the new guy. He looked disheveled, tired. Almost as worn out as Sam. His dark hair was a mess, and even from a distance Dean could see the worry on his face dissipate when he spotted Sam. Even more interesting. He didn't think the tax accountant look would be his brother's type, but maybe it was one-sided. The way the guy looked at Sam definitely spoke of something more than simple friendship, anyway.

"You weren't answering your phone." The guy, Cas, sounded out of breath, and his concern was palpable. "I thought—" 

Sam seemed to understand, though Dean didn't. "It's ok. I'm sorry I didn't answer. I've just been busy." He gestured slightly behind him, presumably to indicate Dean's presence. Which meant, what? That Sam hadn't wanted to tell this guy he'd done a spell and dragged his brother ten years into the future? Yeah, ok, that was probably fair. Dean wouldn't have wanted to advertise that either. 

Dean watched as Cas's eyes tracked behind Sam, searching, and when they finally landed on Dean, the difference was startling. Cas's face was slack, totally shocked. "Dean? How? Where—?" He approached a few steps and stopped short, looking sharply at Sam. "What did you do?"

Dean didn't appreciate this guy taking that tone with his brother and stepped forward, starting to say, "Hey—" when Sam cut him off.

"It's fine, Dean. He's right. You don't belong here, and we all know it." He sighed. "I did that spell. The one you said wouldn't work."

Cas searched Sam's face a moment, then turned to get a closer look at Dean. Dean bristled, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. He wasn't sure what the guy was looking for, but he eventually turned back to Sam with a disappointed sigh. "Sam."

Dean watched his brother crumple at that, and it hurt. Sam managed to recompose himself quickly though, something Dean had seen him do too many times in the last 24 hours. He had never wanted his little brother to turn into this hard man who could break with a single word and rebuild himself in moments, burying whatever pain he was experiencing so deep it was like it was never there. Sam was supposed to be loud and angry about hunting and, more than anything else, happy. "I had to do something. We were out of leads."

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. This is just—I can't send him back."

Sam nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "Cas, even if you could, I wouldn't let you. We'll figure something out. Obviously, he can't stay, but we'll find something else. I was never going to let you do that to yourself."

Smiling with weary fondness, Cas replied, "I appreciate your concern, Sam, but I'm fine, I promise."

It was such a Winchester line that Dean had to wonder how long this guy had been part of their lives. 

Sam ignored it, however, and just continued talking. "I think we have something, though." He glanced backwards at Dean, then back to Cas. "Demons. In Dean's room. I assume the night he disappeared."

"Crowley?"

Sam shrugged. "I assume so. I think—" He turned back to Dean, obviously hesitant about saying the next part in his presence. "I think he had someone possess Dean."

Dean started, surprised. That...would explain the smell on the pillow. It was a horrifying thought though, his body running around with a demon in it. "How do we find them?" he asked, surprising even himself when he spoke.

Sam and Cas both turned to look at him. 

"What? I may not know who this Crowley is, but I know I don't want some demon running around in my body. So how do we find them? Demons aren't that common, so it shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Sam and Cas shared a look, then Sam said, "Yeah. You remember how I told you some of what happened to us? I... may have left a few things out." He gulped. "There are a lot of demons out and about these days. They're pretty much the only thing we hunt anymore."

Cas rolled his eyes. "You told him? How much?"

That raised Sam's hackles. "Does it matter? We've never successfully changed history before, why should I expect that we'll start now? And if we did, would that be such a bad thing? Dean is dead, Cas. And I want my brother back. If telling this Dean a little bit of what happens gets me a living, breathing brother, then I'll take it and screw the consequences."

Cas balked. "Sam, you can't mean that. What about Lu-" 

"I beat him before, and I'll beat him again if I have to." Sam's eyes glittered with defiance, and Dean grinned, glad to see that some of Sam's spirit was still in there somewhere.

 The three of them sat around the table in the kitchen, and Dean couldn't stop glancing from Sam to Castiel and back. "He's an angel? You're shitting me, right? Angels don't exist."

Sam laughed at Castiel's scowl. "Yeah, that's pretty much what you said the first time you met him. Hate to break it to you, but they do. So do a lot of other things."

"Unicorns?"

Sam shrugged. "Not as far as we know, but it wouldn't be the weirdest thing we've encountered."

"Do I want to know what tops that list?" 

Sam thought about it for a second. There were a lot of good possibilities, from the Leviathans to actual dragons. But there was one that still made him chuckle when he thought about it. "Fairies. Masquerading as aliens."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"You zapped Tinkerbell in a microwave, dude." 

"You're lying."

"I'm really not. The point is, angels barely even register on the weird scale these days." Sam sat back, relaxing at the normal banter with his brother. He'd missed this. The warm grin Dean sent his way didn’t hurt either.

Grumbling with annoyance, Cas spoke up. "What do we plan to do about Crowley?"

Sam considered their options. There weren't many. "I could summon him again, but that didn't work the first ten times. No reason to assume it'll work now. We might be able to find a locator spell?"

Castiel shook his head. "If there was a useful one, wouldn't we have used it already? You've been through every book in this place twice, at least." 

Dean was unusually quiet as he nursed his third beer. Sam smirked a little at that. He hadn't expected to introduce Dean to his favorite beer. He hadn't realized Dean had only started drinking it sometime after their Dad died. Finally, he spoke. "So we look again. If summoning isn't going to work, then we have to find him some other way. I'm sure the two of you will figure it out."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What, trying to duck out of research? Seriously? When I got back on the road with you, you had a hell of a chip on your shoulder about being able to do research too."

Dean shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? I was probably just trying to make you feel useful, Sammy."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The nicknames fell easily from their mouths, and Sam didn't bother hiding his grin. God, things hadn't felt like this with Dean in too long. 

"Come on. Fresh eyes might find something I missed. You and Cas are on library duty, and I'll see if I can find signs of demonic activity that might be Crowley."

 Dean tossed another book in a foreign language onto Castiel's pile. "Remind me to call Sam a nerd later. I bet he can read all of these."

The angel didn't even look up, just kept reading the book he was going through, something in ancient Aramaic. "Sam is a remarkable linguist these days, but I am unsure how much is due to his status as a 'nerd'."

Feigning nonchalance, Dean said, "Then what is it due to?"

This time, Cas did look up, his gaze sharp. "Most likely his proficiency with so many languages despite very little time in which to study them is due to his high levels of exposure to archangels and their grace. His fluency in Enochian certainly is. Then again, I am aware that Sam's sleeping habits leave much to be desired. Perhaps he is, as you say, a 'nerd'."

Dean tried to parse Cas's words into something that made sense, because he was pretty sure there was an important revelation in there somewhere. The problem was that the angel was even more cryptic than Sam. Where Sam had simply refused to answer, Castiel answered as though Dean hadn't jumped forward a decade in time. Every damn sentence was full of information that Dean was missing the background for, and it was getting annoying. The angel, of course, seemed to be infinitely amused by it. Deciding to put a pin in it until later—maybe he could ask Sam about the time he spent around archangels or why he didn't sleep enough—Dean flipped open another book. This one was in English, at least, and he settled in to read.

Four hours later, he was ready to throw all the books across the room. Cas was right, there was nothing here. Then again, Sam had been the one to pull these books for them, and as they'd previously established, Sam hadn't been able to find an answer. Dean stood and stretched, then went to find Sam. Holed up by himself in his room, of course. "Hey."

Sam jumped at Dean's voice, and Dean hated it. He wondered if his 2014 counterpart knew how jumpy Sam was, or if Sam did a better job of hiding it when he expected Dean to be around. "Hey, Dean. You guys find anything?"

"Not yet." Dean leaned against the doorframe. "Hey, is there a card catalog or something? I didn't see one in the library, but I figured a giant nerd like you would have some sort of filing system."

Sam looked surprised, but only for a moment. Probably remembering that Dean didn't know everything Sam expected him to. "Yeah. It's just— Let me show you. This place is kind of a maze sometimes."

"What, like Hogwarts?"

Sam shot him a disbelieving look, then said, "Less 'the staircases move' and more 'there might be a minotaur I haven't discovered yet.'"

"Got it. You know, I did find my way around ok earlier. It didn't seem that bad to me."

Sam chuckled despite himself. "Most of the main floor is fine. The basement is where things get tricky."

"Wait, this place has a basement?" Just knowing there was an entire floor to the building that Dean hadn't even found yet set his mind running down a dozen different tangents, at least half of them involving doing inappropriate things to his not so little brother. Maybe there was a sex dungeon hiding somewhere. No. No, he reminded himself. There was no way he and Sam were like that. Sam would have said something by now, right? 

 Dean read the spell three times before he showed it to Cas and made him read it. "I'm not crazy, right? That'll track a demon, any demon, so long as we know their real name?"

Cas nodded, slowly, rereading the spell. "Yes. This will work. Go get Sam."

Sam wasn't in his room, which immediately set Dean's big brother radar into overdrive. Doing a quick lap of the upstairs rooms didn't yield an overgrown little brother, so Dean ventured into the basement. Maybe Sam was looking something up in the card catalog. Or maybe he was bored and thought trying to find a minotaur in his basement would make a good distraction. "Sam?" he called, trying to remember the order of turns Sam had taken last time.

There was no answer, but that didn't mean much. He'd seen himself how big this place was. Luckily, Dean was good with directions and found the card catalog and library overflow pretty easily. Unluckily, Sam was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it, Sammy. Where the hell are you?"

He could search the rest of the basement, but something told him that would be a waste of time. Trying to think like Sam was harder when his information was a decade out of date, but it shouldn't be this difficult. Then it hit him. There was one room upstairs that Dean had skipped over entirely, assuming Sam wouldn't have bothered to go in there. Of course he was wrong. 

Dean's—other Dean's—door was closed, but he knew Sam was in there. It sucked. He couldn't exactly tell his brother not to grieve for him, but at the same time, Dean was here and alive right now. Steeling himself, Dean opened the door.

Sam was curled up on the bed, face buried in the sheets. 

"Found something. Cas thinks it'll work." Dean's voice was rough. No way was he calling Sam on the fact that his shoulders were shaking with sobs as he lay there, even if he kind of wanted to. Without even waiting for acknowledgement, Dean retreated to the library.

Sam joined them a few minutes later. He looked even worse than when Dean had found him last night, but he brightened as soon as he read through the spell. Cas had already started to gather the spell components, and in a matter of minutes they had a location.

Dean drove. Sam protested, but he was in no condition to drive. At the very least, this was a way Dean could help. Sure enough, less than an hour into the trip Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat. He stayed that way until they arrived at a motel in Beulah, North Dakota. Crowley was in town somewhere, hopefully staying put, but Dean figured they could use a base of operations while they looked. According to Sam, while there were signs that a demon was in the area, nothing suspicious had been reported, which meant Crowley was keeping quiet. You know, for a demon. 

Sam blinked awake when the car turned off, and Dean tossed him a room key. "You still look like hammered crap, but at least you got some sleep."

"Thanks." The sarcasm in Sam's voice rivaled his teenage self, and it made Dean grin. 

"Come on. I figure you can get set up doing your geek thing looking for this Crowley dude, and I'll go grab us some dinner. Saw a roadhouse on the way in that looked good."

Sam didn't disagree, so Dean chalked it up as a win. Maybe his brother had just needed to be on the road again to start taking care of himself again.

 The roadhouse was exactly Dean's kind of place. It was full of people and the smell of beer and fried food, and it even had a karaoke stage. Maybe once they were done with Crowley, he'd be able to drag Sam out for a beer or two. Probably not, but Dean could hope. He'd pay good money to see his brother doing karaoke. Speaking of, Dean leaned against the bar to watch the atrocious singing while he waited for his to-go order. What he saw made his insides freeze.

Up on stage was him. 2014 Dean. Or the demon riding him, anyway. Fuck. He considered calling Sam, but quickly tossed that idea away. Sam was too broken up, never mind sleep deprived and probably malnourished. Then again, Dean didn't exactly have a lot of experience dealing with demons. The song ended, and Dean made his decision. The demon had apparently decided that he was going to perform all evening and stayed on stage as the next song started. Perfect. It gave Dean time to grab some gear from the trunk.

Ten minutes later, the demon was booed off the stage and started to make his way outside, following some girl that had caught Dean's eye too. That was when Dean made his move. Ducking out the door first, he waited until the demon exited the building before dragging him around the corner and out of sight of prying eyes. Shoving the guy away from him, he pulled out his dad's journal and flipped it open to the exorcism he'd bookmarked.

"Exorcizamus te—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the demon said, glaring at him. 

Dean paused, then against his better judgment asked, "Why the hell not?"

The demon grinned and leaned in to say, "Because I'm not just some random demon, Deano." Then, without any warning he drew his fist back and threw a punch hard enough to make Dean see stars.

Dean rolled across the ground from the force of the punch and scrambled back to his feet, knowing he had made a mistake. He was way out of his league, and he found himself wishing Sam was here to bail his ass out. Rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand, he said, "Sure you are. Just a black-eyed bitch borrowing a body that doesn't belong to you. Time to vacate the premises."

The demon just laughed at his bravado. "See, that is where you're wrong. I'm not borrowing anything. This body is mine, and I don't mean that in a 'finders keepers' way. Welcome to your future, Dean. I'm you."

That stopped Dean in his tracks. "What?"

The pause gave the demon a chance to launch another attack, and Dean was too stunned to properly defend himself. The next minute or so was a blur until he found himself in a chokehold while his phone rang. Sam. No one else in this decade had his number. 

Effortlessly keeping Dean pinned, the demon reached into Dean's pocket, pulled out his phone and answered it. "Thought I told you to let me go."

Dean heard Sam say something, but the response was muffled. 

"Sorry, I'm a little tied up right now. Or is it he? Time travel makes pronouns so difficult, don't you think?" Another pause where Sam shouted something at the demon, and the demon rolled his eyes. "Oh, Sammy, what did you think was going to happen? Did you seriously think the Mark was going to let me die?"

Despite the spots that were starting to dance in Dean's vision, hearing this thing call his brother Sammy made something snap inside him. With an unexpected strength, he broke the demon's grip and slammed his fist into his older self's face. Whipping out the runed cuffs he'd grabbed from the trunk, he slapped them on the demon's wrists and said, "You don't get to call him that."

The shock on the demon's face was almost comical, and Dean reveled in his win for just a moment before picking up the phone from where it had fallen. "Hey, Sammy. I got him. We'll be back in ten."

 Back at the bunker, Dean and Sam walked into the library, and Sam poured them each a drink. 

Dean sipped his and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you have a freaking dungeon, man."

Sam chuckled. 

"Seriously, though. What're you going to do with him?" Asking for information about his own future was probably asking for more trouble, but he had to know. 

Sam waved him off. "Don't worry. We, uh, we figured out how to 'cure' demons a while ago. You'll be ok."

"Right." Dean took another, bigger sip. "Dude, your lives are weird."

This time Sam gave him a heartfelt laugh. "Seriously, though, thank you. I couldn't have done this without you."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you could."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, well, I don't want to."

Feeling like he was missing an inside joke, Dean changed the subject. "So, we got your Dean back. What are we going to do about me?"

Dropping his gaze, Sam said, "I actually have an idea about that. There's a blood spell that our grandfather used to time travel to us last year that should work."

"Seriously? Did you just forget about that?"

"No, not really. But I was trying to preserve the timeline, remember? The way this spell works, blood calls to blood, and the person using it walks through a door next to a blood relative."

Immediately catching his brother's train of thought, Dean said, "Yeah, I doubt Dad would take that very well."

"And you didn't pay me a visit in 2004 that I'm aware of, so—"

"What changed?"

Sam shrugged, then he shot Dean a look that was unreadable. "You."

Wondering again if things were that different in 2014 than his own time, Dean said, "Me, huh?"

Sam smiled shyly, then said, "I just need to figure out how to direct the spell so you don't end up at the wrong end of Dad's gun."

"You're sending me to you?" Dean wasn't sure if he should hope or not, but he couldn't help the lightness in his chest at Sam's fond look.

"Yeah, I am." Sam shrugged again, but Dean could hear the unspoken statement that the future might already be screwed over because of everything Dean had learned. What was one more change?

Finding the answer Sam needed on how to direct the spell wasn't hard, and an hour later they were standing in front of a door painted in Sam's blood while Dean chanted. The sigil glowed, and Dean fell silent.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Dean said, not looking at Sam. He wanted to know, wanted to ask, but his older self was down in the basement, and that guy was going to have to deal with the consequences of any revelations Dean made right now.

"Hey," Sam said, placing a gentle hand on Dean's cheek and turning his face until they were looking at each other. Then he leaned in, kissing Dean hard and dirty. For one shocked moment Dean froze before his brain and body got with the program and kissed back. Too soon, Sam pulled back, leaving them both breathless. Smirking, Sam said, "Go get him, tiger."

Dean grinned and opened the door.

He walked into a bedroom he didn't recognize but which didn't scream "Sam" to him. There was a floral comforter on the queen bed and sheer blinds on the windows. The sunlight streaming through the window combined with the yellow paint to bathe the room in a soft summer glow. It was too clean and small for a motel, but too impersonal to belong to someone. And, contrary to what Sam had told him about how the spell worked, Dean was alone. It gave Dean an opportunity to keep things the way Sam remembered them, if he wanted to, but the memory of Sam's lips on his still burned into his skin, and he knew he wasn't leaving here without seeing his little brother. 

There was a choked noise from the hallway, and there was Sam, damp from a shower and looking almost exactly as Dean expected, just a little leaner, a little more mature. A far cry from the broken—but healing—man he'd just left behind. "Dean? What the hell are you doing in my closet?"

Dean laughed and said, "Dude, you will not believe the week I just had." Then he strode over to his little brother and kissed him like his future depended on it.

[random-imagines-blog]

Rip Out The Wings of a Butterfly {Wesley Gibson x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @cryingforwill Wordcount: 2598 Summary: You, the odd inventor, mechanic and tech geek of the Fraternity, get to meet the newest assassin. Notes: Implied animal violence.

You were the youngest member of the Fraternity, at only nineteen years old. It was a huge accomplishment since it took time for them to learn to trust you, and for you to trust them. You weren’t one of the assassin’s - Heaven’s no, you could barely shoot a plastic gun at the duck in the arcade game - but you had a lot of talent in many other areas. Besides, you didn’t want anything to do with all of the blood and gore. You’d leave that to Fox. You were more focused on the technological part of the operation. Not the name-giving loom, since even you thought that was a bit ridiculous, but the weapons, the communications devices, the traps. All in the name of progress - and in doing the right thing, so you believed.

You were surprised when a new member was brought into the faction. That wasn’t a common occurrence, and from the way that his nerves were acting up, you weren’t sure that he would be staying, either. When he was introduced to you in your workshop, you were a little confused - he didn’t look like the usual type. He didn’t have the crazy chiseled jawbone or the killer look in his eyes that you had come to respect from the assassins you usually came into contact with. He was ... almost handsome in a average joe sort of way, except for those eyes. There was something special about that shade of blue, something that would haunt your dreams.

“I’m y/n,” You said, getting up from your workbench to give him a handshake, looking into those lovely eyes. “All the equipment that you’ll be getting, well, it comes from me, so you better be careful with it.”

“Oh, right,” He said, looking around at all of the things that you were tinkering with. “The most high-tech thing I’ve used is a ergonomic keyboard.” He looked as sheepish as he sounded, and your jaw dropped. You looked behind him to Sloane who gave you a patient look, and then to Fox who shrugged.

“I’ll have to ask Sloane to let me borrow you for a couple of days, consider it to be a quick course in Tech 101,” You smiled, weakly. “You don’t need to know how to make this stuff but you have to know how to use it.”

“Yes, there will be time for that,” Sloane nodded his approval. “And what are you working on right now?”

“Right now, I have two projects,” You said, going back around to your workstation to show off what was probably messy to the three, but perfectly organized chaos to yourself. “The first are these sunglasses. They look normal, no?” You held up a pair of ray-bans that you had picked up a month ago. “Expensive, yes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. But here - you try them on, new kid.” You handed the pair of glasses over to Wesley who was surprised by how they were heavier than regular sunglasses. He looked at Fox who gave a little nod, and then hesitantly put them on his face. His mouth gaped  open as he took a look around, focusing on you first.

“Is this, umm, infrared?” Wesley asked, taking them off and set them back down on the workstation.

“Thermal imaging, for when the bad guys are hiding from you.” You smiled, picking up the glasses and setting them back where they were. “Anything that I can do to make your jobs easier.”

“What’s the second thing you’ve been working on. A weapon, perhaps?” Sloane asked, raising a grey eyebrow. You flushed slightly, knowing that it’s what you should be working on, but it really wasn’t.

“Uhh - it’s the custodian’s Dirt-Devil.” You held up the little red portable vacuum that you had stolen from the custodian after they had gone home. “Okay, I know, I know, I should be working on weapons, but the sound of this thing in the hallway drives me insane! I’m just trying to see if I can make it quieter at all.”

Wesley was the only one in the room to find this entertaining. His naturally cherry-red lips opened up to reveal a smile, and then a quick laugh. You flushed even more under the cold stare of Fox. ���I need a new scope on my sniper, you can work on that.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” You saluted, sitting back on your stool. The tour continued on, with the two superiors and the newbie leaving the room to go meet the less friendly people of the Fraternity. You felt a little bad for Wesley, for he had a lot to get used to in here.

-

You were working late into the night. In a jar, complete with a couple of holes, you had three captured butterflies flitting around. There was one, poor little thing, pinned lightly to your work station. Although tech was more your thing, you dabbled in medicines as well. Tonight, you were working on a gel that you had formulated all by yourself, and you were testing it on the most delicate creature known to you. Hence, the butterflies.

You absolutely hated this part of the job. The part where you had to hurt another living thing in the name of progress, but the last time that you had experimented a healing gel on a human being, well, turns out even the Repairman can feel pain. He had found that out the hard way, and he still avoided coming anywhere near you. But Fox had taken you out for ladies night after that, amused by the way that you had made the blonde man scream.

You were about to do the worst part of the procedure, and that was to cut a rip in the butterfly’s wing. God, this absolutely sucked, but at least if the gel didn’t work, it would be very easy to but the insect out of it’s misery. You picked up the scalpel and was just about to put it to wing when you heard footsteps in the hallway. It was after two AM, most people were usually either in a mission or sleeping right now.

“Try putting on a documentary about something you really don’t care about, that’s how I get to sleep.” You called out from where you were sitting, waiting for the person to make an appearance. To your surprise, it was Wesley who stepped into the door frame, smiling sheepishly at disturbing you. Taking any chance you could get to not be doing what you should be doing, you put the knife down and motioned him in. “How are you adjusting?”

“It’s a lot to get used to,” He said, laughing as he usually did when he grew nervous. It was something that you were picking up on, though you had only seen him a couple of times.

“It gets easier, though I say that without having undergone all the ... repairing.” You winced, thinking about all of the times that you had seen the Repairman’s trainees in the wax baths. That was one of the main reasons why you were trying to make this gel. Easy to carry around in it’s tiny bottle, easy to apply - just a little bit and the skin will fuse together as if it was fabric and fabric glue.

“How did you end up here. You look very...” Wesley’s face turned red as he tried to look for the appropriate word.

“Young? Innocent? Completely out of place next to everyone else here?” You filled in his blanks. You took off the safety goggles that you were wearing, and placed them next to your work. “Yeah, I’m only nineteen, I can barely shoot a gun but I can build one from pretty much nothing, and the closest I came to killing anyone was I told a dirty joke in front of Sloan while he was having a cup of coffee and he nearly choked.”

“Wow,” Wesley blinked.

“If we’re going to be friends, I might as well tell you the story. It’s not much, though. I was a prodigy,” You did air quotes at the p word that you hated so much. “So I was in high school by the age of ten, which of course lead to some bullying. When I was close to graduating, one of the worst bullies that I had died suddenly. Was killed. They officially said it was gang violence, but that didn’t sit right with me because he picked on people lower than him, but was scared by anyone who was higher, you know? He really wouldn’t mess with gangs, or go anywhere near them. So after a bit of digging, too much digging, I managed to find out about the Fraternity. They were alerted right away, stormed my house, saw the potential in me and recruited me. I joined up as soon as I graduated high school so I’ve been here about six years now. And you?”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Wesley said. “I used to have panic attacks, or what I thought were panic attacks and worked at a useless desk job and had a cheating girlfriend,” he started, but you put your hand up to stop him.

“That’s a lot of negativity,” You said. “Sorry Wes, this is a negative free space. How did Fox find you?”

“Oh, uh, I was picking up my prescription. My anti-anxiety medication. The man who killed my father hunted me down and tried to kill us. Then she introduced me to all of this.”

“Welcome to the wildest ride of your life, Wesley Gibson. You’re going to find out a lot about other people, and even more about yourself here.”

-

Over the next couple of months, you worked with Wesley closely. You couldn’t teach him how to shoot of course, or how to handle pain and other weapons, but you could show him how to use the gadgets that you made. You were extremely proud of the little EMF ipod that you put together which turned off all of the electronic devices in a two-block radius for up to half an hour at a time. Very handy for tricky alarm systems when he had to get into a building. Wesley was a fan of the bungee belt that you put together, for it gave him a rush to jump off the buildings, still have mobility, and know that he was safe while doing it.

“What are you working on?” He asked, walking into your workshop with a paperbag. You could smell your favorite takeaway inside of it and your mouth started watering immediately.

“Nothing fancy. Sloan is going abroad for a little bit and I’m trying to fix up this camera to take some 3D pictures.” You said, tongue sticking out of your mouth as you attached a lens to the camera. You picked it up, pointed it at Wesley and grinned. “Say cheese!”

Wesley grimaced as the flash went off in his face. You brought the camera down and looked at the image on the display. It hadn’t worked, but you saved the photo anyway. You’d keep it for yourself, because embarrassing photos of ones friends is something that should always be hoarded. “Maybe I’ll make this my laptop background,” You chuckled.

“Oh, don’t,” Wesley groaned. He came up to your work station, crossed his arms and rested them on the wooden table. “I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here.”

“Why? You already brought me food,” You said, putting the camera off to the side and opened the bag. “No reason to go out now.”

“When was the last time that you actually had fresh air?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you calling the city air fresh? Because I can tell you that it’s not. Studies show-”

“Enough about studies, I left that word behind in high school. I just thought maybe you’d want to act like a normal nineteen year old for once.”

“And what do normal nineteen year olds do?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. You really were curious about what Wesley was going to say.  It would probably be something cringe-worthy that you can tease him about later.

“Go to parties, go on dates, go to the mall...” Wesley shrugged.

“Is what what you did when you were nineteen?” You asked, poking his chest. It astounded you how hard it was, this was the first time that you had actually went as far as to poke him. Damn - they really were working him hard. “I don’t think being around drunk people is fun, a lot of people are intimidated by my intellect and ... the mall, really?” You laughed at the thought of mingling around with the people inside a shopping center. It was far from something you were interested in doing. But then an idea sprung to mind. “Actually - can you take me for a little drive?”

-

After eating the food that Wesley brought you, the two of you sat inside a rather nondescript car, driving out of the city towards the more rural area. Resting on your lap was a large jar with four large butterflies fluttering inside. One of them had a little bit of a scar on it’s wing, but it was flapping strong anyway. You leaned your head against the glass of the window and looked out as the big buildings turned into suburban neighborhoods, and then pretty much nothing but long roads going many directions. It was only when you saw a little flower patch that you told Wesley to pull over.

You stepped out of the car and took in your first breath of non-city air that you’ve had in a long time. You walked over to the flower patch and smelled the colorful plants. Wesley opened up his door but stood behind it, arms folded over the top of the car.

“Fly my darlings, fly!” You said, unscrewing the top of the jar. The butterflies took their time on leaving, but eventually settled on the flowers. The one with the scar, the only one who ended up under your knife, went to the largest flower in the bunch and spread it’s wings to show off it’s beauty. You got down on your knees and watched as they took in their new surroundings, then slowly started to fly away, towards a small patch of woods close by. It wasn’t as dramatic as you thought it would, but it was only four butterflies after all.

“That’s all you wanted to do?” Wesley asked as you walked towards the car, screwing the lid back on the jar. You nodded with a big grin.

“If you’re gonna bug me to get out of the house, I might as well provide freedom for my friends,” You said, opening the door and getting back inside. Wesley did as well, starting the car back up, but he didn’t go back on the road right away.

“You’re a bit fucking weird,” He said, smiling at you endearingly. You nodded, laughed and agreed with him on that one. He leaned in towards you and pecked your cheek before turning the car around to take the both of you back home.

[saiilorstars]

The Beginning of Everything

Ch. 26:  The Cosmic Butterfly

// Story Masterlist // 

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 10th Doctor x Female OC

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Chapter summary: The truth behind the Cosmic Butterfly comes to light and reveals that it's not the only creature created!

Since everyone was set to go find the Doctor, Rose thought it was high time she did the same. She closed the laptop and got up from her chair. She made a quick call to someone on her phone then turned to Donna and her family. "Right! I'm gonna find him."

"No, we're going to find them," Donna corrected her. "I'm coming with!"

"Donna…" Rose began to shake her head but Donna grabbed onto her arm.

"I'm coming with, blondie! Those are my friends out there too!"

"Donna, you can't go out there," Sylvia got up from the couch, along with Wilf.

"I have to, Mum!"

"You go, sweetheart," Wilf told Donna, just like before when she was leaving after the Sontarans. "You go and find them."

Donna smiled softly at her grandfather. She directed her eyes to Rose, leaving no room for further discussion on the matter. The two then disappeared in a flash of blue light.

~ 0 ~

Gabby whimpered when the TARDIS finally stopped. There would definitely be bruises around her body later on, if there even would be a 'later on'. With a groan, she used her elbows to sit up. "I'm getting really tired of landing like this."

Renata was the only one who had maintained her balance because she'd been the pilot this time. She sent an apologetic look at Gabby and the Doctor. "Sorry, I-I couldn't help myself. That was...that was Davros!"

"He's supposed to be dead…" the Doctor slowly pulled himself up to his feet, still shaken from seeing Davros again.

"I can't believe you actually tried saving him back in the war!?" Renata was still incredulous about the revelation. He actually went and tried saving Davros, of all people! She was naturally furious. "He should've died instead of everyone else! You shouldn't have ever tried to save him! That's stupid, even for you!"

The Doctor kept quiet on that bit. She had every right to be angry about that part but he was well aware that even now, seeing everything that had happened, he still didn't regret it.

Renata saw that clearly. She was not surprised. It was just so him. He was always the better one between them. "We're on Earth now, so let's just save it before Davros ruins it. Gabriella?"

"I'm up! I'm up!" the girl assured. "But please, someone, learn how to drive this box a little better!"

"C'mon!" Renata made the gesture for them to follow her, but the Doctor yanked her back by the sleeve of her blouse.

"What happened to 'check the environment'?" He threw her a look. She always reminded him of that, not that he listened to it but that was beside the point. 

"Well, we're on Earth--" she pulled her arm out of his hold, "--and the Daleks have already invaded so safety is pretty much nonexistent. Now c'mon! We've got to find the others."

The trio emerged from the blue box into a solitary street. Gabby felt chills the way the street was upturned. There were cars parked haphazardly on the road, some actually overturned. Scattered rubbish filled their immediate area, but the worst part of it was the silence.

"Absolute silence," Renata whispered. She folded her arms tightly, feeling an unwavering breeze. She hated silence...it was like death.

"Sarah Jane said that they were taking the people. But what for?" The Doctor wished he could just skip the whole 'trying to figure things out' and go straight for the solution because if this is what one street looked like, he didn't want to see what the city was like right now.

"Daleks taking humans?" Renata moved around him, her hands rising as she explained what she thought was so obvious. "It's to hurt them, to kill them. Daleks don't just meddle with humans for fun. They want to kill them."

"Yes but what for?" The Doctor turned to face her. "The Daleks don't just pull planets and submerge them into darkness!"

"They're Daleks!" She exclaimed in his face. "They don't need a reason. We just need to stop them."

Neither of them noticed Gabby's terrified expression due to their thoughts. It was all so normal to them…

The Doctor could concede on Renata's point. "Well, it would be a lot easier if we had everyone with us."

Renata had lifted her shoulders to shrug when she caught something over his shoulder. She shuddered in a breath so faintly that no one caught it. "I think you've overlooked one good thing that came out of this, Doctor," her voice was unexpectedly soft that for a moment, the Doctor wondered if her health was taking a plunge again.

"Yeah, and what would that be?"

An honest, albeit small, smile came to Renata's face. "You'd get the chance to see an old friend." She raised a shaky finger to point at someone behind him.

The Doctor didn't comprehend what she meant but when he turned around to see what she was pointing at, he forgot all about it. It was Rose. Rose Tyler. She stood at the end of the street wearing the biggest smile anyone could ever have. Rose.

Donna had a good sense to move away from Rose and settle her gaze on the Time Lady pulling herself to the TARDIS instead. Donna couldn't even begin to understand how Renata must be feeling. She didn't appear mad, or even jealous, just really sad…

Rose took off, leaving a strong trail of wind behind her. Donna's hair even flipped over her shoulders! But Rose didn't care - she had the Doctor just feet away from her. The Doctor took off in the same force.

"I don't understand who's that," Gabby inched closer to Renata. She noticed the expression on Renata's face and wondered why the Time Lady was so sad.

Renata was about to shake her head and simply go back into the TARDIS, hoping that maybe being on Earth would allow them to search better, when she spotted something rolling in the street adjacent to theirs. Her blood went cold.

"Exterminate!"

"NOOO!" Renata screamed when the Dalek fired and shot the Doctor.

Rose skidded to a forced stop when the blinding blue light passed in front of her. By the time she opened her eyes, the Doctor was already on the ground. She dropped to his side and cradled his head while he convulsed in pain.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Renata's voice, though still a scream, cracked in the end with her emotions. She ran towards the Dalek, ignoring Gabby's and Donna's collective yells for her to stop. Renata couldn't hear anything but a ringing in her ears and a rush of adrenaline under her skin.

Jack appeared only a few feet from Rose and the Doctor and, taking in the situation, he prepared to fire with his own huge gun...only to see Renata halfway there. "Renata, what are you doing!?"

"Exterminate!" went the Dalek again, shooting straight for the Time Lady.

Renata's face was ferocious and perhaps the new unlocked feeling was what brought out the energy that'd been swirling inside her, bubbling like a soup that wasn't quite ready. It exploded around into a radiating light - more powerful and blinding than the Dalek's laser - and blasted the Dalek into pieces.

"Ren!" Gabby called in terrible fear. When the golden energy died, it left Renata wobbly and in a few seconds she fell to her knees. Gabby ran for her, but Donna and Jack got to Renata first.

Renata's face was pale and her cheeks seemed a bit hollow. "I-I don't know...I don't know where that came from...I dooooon…" her words slurred together until she couldn't form a proper word anymore.

"C'mon, up you go!" Jack pulled her up to her feet but had to do most of the supporting. "Don't tell me you're going to regenerate too…"

"Regen...regenerate!" Renata sniffed in and looked both ways before finding the Doctor on the ground. "N-no! Get...get hiiii...him!" She tried pushing Jack away but her arms actually felt like noodles. She'd heard Gabby use the expression once on herself after being unable to play volleyball at a space beach they visited. Noodle arms, how Renata had laughed at that.

Now she fully understood.

"Don't die. Oh my God, please don't die," Rose was teary-eyed and didn't really know what else to do except hold the Doctor.

"We need to get him to the TARDIS!" Jack called. "Now!"

Donna knew where she could better put her efforts into. She rushed to help Rose pick the Doctor up to his feet. "C'mon, spaceman, we gotta go."

"Renée" the Doctor hadn't seen much but he knew that Renata had expelled a lot of the energy they'd been watching. It was exactly what he'd been afraid of, that one day she would do something her body wasn't ready for and would pay the price with her life.

The group got back into the TARDIS and while Gabby and Jack tried to bring Renata to the Captain's chair, Renata shook her head and clung to the console instead. Her legs were buckling though and she kept breathing in as if she was holding her breath.

"Renata, are you going to regenerate?" Jack had to be straightforwards and ask her so that she wasn't so close to the Doctor who would definitely be doing the thing.

"N-noooo…" Renata lost breath in that one word. She swallowed hard and took in another deep breath. "Jusssst….just too...lots of ener…" For now, her body was just growing tired.

"Lots of energy, got it," Jack backtracked from her cautiously, though pointed Gabby to keep an eye on her. "Doc! How we doing!?"

The Doctor's answer came in a groan. He was laying on the floor, convulsing and feeling more layers of pain. He knew what was coming, but he didn't want it. He really didn't want it.

"Got it. Rose, get back!"

Rose wouldn't budge. She shook her head - how could she leave him again?

"Rose!" Jack's voice hardened with urgency. "You know what happens next! We can't be near him! Donna?"

Donna looked between Jack and Renata, the latter already teary-eyed but stuck in her spot. She sighed and looked down at the Doctor. "You got this, spaceman. Good luck." She offered him her best, encouraging smile then scrambled up to her feet to join Renata and Gabby.

"ROSE!"

Rose sniffed and briefly glanced at the frantic Jack. "But he can't... not now, I came all this way…"

The Doctor turned halfway to the side and raised his hand. It was beginning to glow orange. "It's starting…" The orange light spread to his body in a few seconds.

"Doctor, I'm so...sor...sorry," Renata tried to get close to him by using the console as a support but nearly slipped on one occasion. Despite his pain, he still found a moment to shoot her a soft smile, as if telling her that things would be okay.

She couldn't return the favor. All she knew was that he was about to die and they had resolved nothing. And what was worst, she couldn't even be near him.

"Okay, Rose, dammit!" Jack had enough and went ahead to grab Rose himself and pry her away from the Doctor. "Here we go! Good luck, Doctor!"

"Ren, c'mon," Gabby gently pulled Renata farther from the Doctor as well. Donna came to their side and keep Renata steady.

The Doctor managed to pull himself up on his own but had to use the console as support for a moment. He wanted to say something, to look at his friends, look at…

"I'm sorry, it's too late. I'm regenerating," he felt the energy take him over, forcing his head backwards and his arms to his sides. His explosion of regeneration energy blinded the entire group.

Renata could hear the stream of energy but it all seemed to fade to be replaced by a fluttering noise, like wings. In her distraction she almost missed when the Doctor suddenly redirected his regenerative energy into the jar under the console where his severed hand was. And just like that, he stumbled out of the chaos with his same face.

"Now then…" he took in a deep breath and turned to the stunned group watching his every movement. "Where were we?" his grin wasn't enough to pull the group from their trance.

"H-how…?" Renata was the first one to speak, but in doing so she reminded the Doctor that while he had moved on she was still fighting for her life.

"Renée!" His fond nickname of hers just slipped through his lips. He rushed towards her, arms enveloping around her to keep her steady. "I told you not to use that energy!"

"How the...you jusssst….you…" Renata desperately tried to gesture the fact he'd completely cheated the regeneration system. "You break...every ruuuule known to...known to ma…"

"I get the jist, now please take a seat," the Doctor brought her to the Captain's chair and was mindful of her (still) wobbly legs.

Rose watched the gentle movements between the two and couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how this version of Renata could actually travel with the Doctor. Could she truly be that kind like Donna had promised? Well she did destroy a Dalek, the Dalek that nearly killed the Doctor. That did count for something.

"What was that energy?" Jack had to ask because it definitely had not looked like regeneration energy.

Renata blinked slowly, languidly, and turned her head at Jack. "Do you...do you hear a-a flut-fluterring? I hear fluttering…"

Gabby said nothing but her eyes had darted around the room when she thought she heard a faint snippet of that fluttering. That had to be wrong. 

"It's an illness and what Renata just did made it worse," the Doctor shook his head as he straightened up. "It's - well, I don't really know what type of energy it is but it's contaminating her the more she uses it. And she just blew the bloody top off a Dalek for my sake!"

"Yeah, but that Dalek nearly killed you," Rose said, speaking for the first time since their almost reunification outside. "Counts, doesn't it?"

He looked at her not with the same fondness from before, but a more earnest, unhesitating expression. "No."

She blinked in surprise. How could he say that? It was his life on the line!

"Renata could die because of this. I would rather die before she dies for me." His words continued to strike her with shock...and perhaps with a bit of a heartbreak. The way he said it, like he regarded Renata as someone important, maybe more important than a regular companion.

"How-how can we help her?" Jack quickly put himself upfront to do whatever was needed.

"You can start…" Renata began, trying to force herself to stand, "By acting…" her breathing was still short and heavy, "...like I'm stilllll...here. You--" she pointed a finger at the Doctor, "--just wasted...one whole regen...regeneration!"

The Doctor winced. "Yes, but...I have a good reason." Renata raised an eyebrow, asking what he could possibly think was a good enough reason to waste an entire life. "I…" he straightened his tie and grinned, "...quite like my face. Look at me, why would I to change?"

Renata's two hands shook as she rose them just a bit, her fingers curling to air-strangle him. "I...you...you wasted…" she took in another breath, "...whole life for...for…"

"It's best not to even bark up that tree, Ren," Donna couldn't help her smile of amusement. "He's too self-centered."

"Oi," the Doctor straightened himself. "Now you, Renée, sit down!"

"Your hand!" The Time Lady gestured at the severed hand now glowing and bubbling like crazy. "Whole life wasted!"

"But worth it," the Doctor continued to grin. "Lucky for me that my hand was here to send off all that excess energy to, huh?"

Renata's laugh was a small one, but she knew that there was no convincing him that he'd made a wrong choice. On some part, she was a bit jealous of him. He truly loved his life that much. He must be truly happy where he is. She couldn't remember ever living a previous life with that type of feeling.

"So...you're still you, then?" Rose's soft question turned the Doctor towards her. "You're not...you're not going to change?"

"Uh, no...hopefully not," the Doctor smiled at her. "I'm still me."

Rose's face broke into a smile. She hurried up to him for a big hug. He gladly accepted it and took just one brief moment to really process the fact she'd been able to come back.

"You can hug me if you want," Donna bobbed her head at Jack. Gabby's face was comical as she left to be by Renata instead. Jack just laughed, but Donna was in no joking mood. "No, really, you can hug me."

"Can I hug you?" Gabby asked Renata since that was the vibe of the room. Renata chuckled lightly. Gabby turned her head for a moment, eyes lingering on the severed hand. She watched it glow and bubble, the bubbles going big at one point and then so small in the next…

"Gabriella?" Renata noticed the girl had slipped off into a trance.

Gabby blinked away from the jar and seemed confused as she smiled. "Sorry...I thought I just heard…"

Renata watched the girl sort her thoughts with struggle. Rose overheard and when she pulled away from the Doctor, her concerned - yet fearful - expression was not missed by Renata.

"Never mind," Gabby smiled it away, waving her hands that it wasn't important.

Still, Rose didn't look so happy. Renata made her way to the blonde human, more steady now but still having to use the console for support. She ignored the Doctor's plead to get back in her seat.

"Is there...something you knoow...about this?" She asked Rose.

Rose flipped her head in Renata's direction, giving her a quick scan before shaking her head. "No."

Renata raised an eyebrow. "I know we...haven't met...but I'm not an idiot. What do you know?"

Rose kept her mouth shut but she now had the Doctor giving her more or less the same look as Renata. "I don't...why are you looking at me like that?" She frowned at him. All of sudden he was following the Time Lady?

"Because if you know something about Gabby, I'd really appreciate if you told us. I don't feel like losing anyone else."

"I don't know," huffed Rose. "I just met versions of her that...that don't end so nicely, okay? And it starts with fluttering noises." She laid eyes on Renata, almost accusing the woman of something terrible she was yet to do.

Renata knew when she was being accused - previous lifetime gifts - and sighed. "So maybe I'm going to die. That's what the Ood said."

"No, absolutely not!" The Doctor snapped. He wasn't going to let that happen no matter what creature predicted it.

Renata closed her eyes for a brief moment before sighing again. Truthfully, she was too tired right now to argue about it so she just kept going. "He also mentioned something about butterflies, apart from the contamination."

"The Cosmic Butterfly?" Rose asked in a whisper, eyes already glinting with fear.

Renata recognized the look all too well. "You knew about this?"

Rose didn't like much the tone the Doctor was using on her, as if she was at fault for whatever was happening to Renata. "In another world that I crossed! It's those cosmic butterflies!" She turned to the Doctor, almost as if Renata had ceased to exist in that moment. "If she's been contaminated then there's nothing to do. She'll become dangerous, Doctor. She could hurt you!" 

"Already done that without wings, I'm afraid," Renata whispered and turned away.

"No, Renée…" the Doctor tried going after her, an action that left Rose a bit shaken, when the TARDIS' power went were left in darkness.

"What's happened?" Gabby fearfully looked around the place.

"Ah, they've got us!" the Doctor turned to the console but saw little to do when everything was out. "Power's gone... some kind of chronon loop!"

The TARDIS gave another jolt, this time pushing everyone to one side.

"Where are they taking us!?" Donna shrieked after yet another tumultuous shake.

"There's a massive Dalek ship at the center of the planets. They're calling it the Crucible. Guess that's our destination," Jack explained. He shot Renata a concerned glance. The Crucible was not the place that would help her health at the moment.

"So these Daleks are at the center of the planets?" Gabby asked slowly to make sure she understood so far. She was choosing to ignore the constant stare from Rose who couldn't look more afraid of her too. It reminded her of the way River Song would look at her in the Library. What could she possibly do to either women - who both seemed more than capable of taking care of themselves - that could earn their fear? "And you said that these planets were like an engine," she turned to the Doctor. "But what for?"

The Doctor wished he had the answer but since Rose was now there, maybe she had it. "Rose! You've been in a parallel world, that world's running ahead of this universe - you've seen the future, what was it?"

Rose went grim. "It's the darkness."

"The stars were going out," Donna added and, realizing that none of them knew about her whole parallel world trip with Rose, she explained better. "I got a parallel universe created around me by some alien fortune teller at UNIT. Remember when you left me?" The Doctor winced at her sharpness and even more so at her glare. "Rose went to that world. It was terrible. You were dead and that caused this whole reaction chain. But I remember the stars were going out."

"One by one. We looked up at the sky and they were just dying," Rose said distantly. It was such a scary thing to watch in person, feeling that with each star that disappeared they were all one star closer to death. But then she gazed at the Doctor and the feeling went away, because she was there with him and he always knew how to save things. "So basically, we've been building this um... this travel machine, this... uh... Dimension Cannon, so I could... well, so I could…so I could come back! Anyway, suddenly, it started to work. And the dimensions started to collapse."

"And did you ever think that maybe it was the that device you built?" Renata didn't mean for her question to be an accusation. She thought it was a fairly logical thought if that was the real story.

Rose felt the accusation, though, and got defensive. "I didn't mean for that to happen!"

"Of course not," Renata's honest agreement made Rose pause for a moment. She studied the Time Lady for any clue of what game she was playing. "No human could know that. Parallel worlds are supposed to be sealed because of...well, what happened to our world, but you didn't know that. But let's think about it that way and see if we can build a solution from that, shall we?"

Rose's suspicion didn't fade completely, but she would go along if it meant putting a stop to the Daleks. "Right. Well, it wasn't just in our world - not just in yours either - but the whole of reality, even the Void was dead. Something is... destroying everything."

"In that parallel world...you said something about me," Donna said as the parts of that trip came back to her for a minute.

Rose nodded. "The Dimension Cannon could measure timelines, and it's... it's weird, Donna, but they all seem to converge on you."

Donna didn't know to laugh at that due to the situation. "But why me? I mean... what have I ever done? I'm a temp from Chiswick!"

The monitor came back to life with the location of where they were arriving at. The Doctor hurried over to see it first. "The Dalek Crucible. All aboard…"

Of course, they landed with a crash.

"Doctor! You will step forth or die!" they began to hear the Daleks on the other side.

The Doctor turned to face the doors, taking a few steps towards it. "We'll... we'll have to go out," he realized. "If we don't, they'll get in."

"You told me nothing could get through those doors!" Rose accused.

"He lies," Renata said just as Gabby was about to say the same as Rose. And like Rose, Gabby seemed like she was betrayed. "Sorry ladies... that's...how he operates when he wants to keep you safe and happy." As if agreeing with her, the Doctor looked over his shoulder at her with a smirk. She did know him very well and that was something neither of them could deny.

"You've got extrapolator shielding," Jack thought a second later.

The Doctor turned around completely to give them the news of how it was, even if it was pretty grim. "Last time we fought the Daleks, they were scavengers and hybrids and mad. But this is a fully fledged Dalek Empire... at the height of its power. Experts at fighting TARDISes, they can do anything." That was enough to solidify their situation. "Right now, that wooden door...is just wood."

Donna had listened to the first part but as the Doctor had gone off, a different noise started taking over her attention. It wasn't like a flutter, no matter what Gabby and Renata said, but more like a heartbeat. She just couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

"Okay, what about your Dimension Jump?" Jack asked Rose, not quite ready to give up completely.

"It needs another twenty minutes, and anyway, I'm not leaving."

The Doctor, following Jack's footsteps in believing in one last shot, asked the immortal man, "What about your teleport?"

"Went down with the power-loss."

"Okay," Renata rubbed circles against her temples. "So we don't have much of an option then. There's no way out so we might as well go out there and see what they want, right?"

"Right," the Doctor gave a firm nod of his head, though he might have been just as scared as anyone else right now. He'd never been this outmatched and the fact he had too many people be cared about with him made it all the more worse. Dying on his own was okay but dying with his friends - their much shorter lifespans - was not what he wanted to see. "All of us together... yeah."

"What are they going to do to us?" Gabby's question was a faint whisper. Renata saw the terrified girl and moved on over to give her a side hug. Her feet seemed to have reclaimed their balance and her cheeks were halfway to looking normal again. But once Gabby felt Renata's touch, she once again knew that the warmth was back and stronger than ever.

"Donna?" the Doctor called once he noticed the ginger had been staring into space. He presumed it was the crippling fear. Like Renata had done with Gabby, the Doctor went for Donna. Soon as he touched her, she snapped out of her trance. "I'm sorry, there's nothing else we can do."

"No, I know," she gave a quick nod.

"Ren, you're really warm again," Gabby said quietly but the others still overheard.

Renata tried playing it off with a small laugh. "I just expelled unknown, possibly toxic, energy. Minor side effect but I'm fine."

The Doctor watched her carefully, knowing she was lying. She did it so easily, so casually, that he wondered when was the last time she didn't have to hide something about herself? When was the last time she had the luxury to be who she was, to always say how she felt? He never thought about that. So far he'd been very focused on his anger for what she didn't tell him. He never stopped to think about the reasons she was accustomed to being so reclusive. The Assessor blackmailing her, threatening her, to choose their family. Her own family planting values that contradicted her hearts. She grew up that way. She never had a choice.

"I'm fine, Doctor, really," Renata presumed his long, silent stare was just concern.

"There's a fluttering noise…" Gabby trailed off beside her, eyes keen on finding out where the fluttering was coming from.

"Surrender, Doctor, and face your Dalek masters!" the Daleks commanded from the other side.

"Daleks," Rose had no idea how to feel about that so she just laughed nervously. "Ha!"

Jack sucked in a breath, mentally preparing himself for whatever was coming next. "Oh, God!" The one thing they could both agree on, however, was that somehow the Doctor would pull it off. He could save them and everyone.

Their unwavered confidence in the Doctor pulled a tiny smile from him. He gazed at everyone in the room. "It's been good, though, hasn't it? All of us... all of it... everything we did…" he specifically looked at Renata for the last part. It was surprising, considering their pending fallout, but he needed her to know that no matter what he never regretted meeting her again.

"It has," she agreed after a long minute of silence. Her only regret was her past choices, but never meeting him at all. "I'm just sorry that I wasn't the best I could be."

Rose's eyes flickered between the pair with a questionable look. There was a twist in her stomach, warning her that she was missing out on something big.

The Doctor took the lead towards the door, albeit a bit slower than usual. He carefully opened the door and slid out.

"Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks!" the Supreme Dalek began the chant as soon as they spotted the Doctor.

Most of the group was out to see themselves at the center of an entire Dalek emporium, all of them collectively chanting their favorite phrase. "Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks! Daleks reign supreme! All hail the Daleks!"

Renata felt like the air in her lungs had vanished. The last time she'd been surrounded by these many Daleks was the Time War, and that was too painful - too traumatizing - to bring back at a time like this. Her legs buckled again, making her bump into Jack's back. "S-sorry," she quickly said.

"What is going on with you, Ren? Apart from the obvious," Jack came to her aid and put one arm around her shoulders to help her walk. She was hot, literally. Her skin might as well be boiling.

The Doctor happened to look back and saw Renata struggling again. Plus, neither Gabby nor Donna had come out of the TARDIS yet. "Gabby? Donna?" he called to them. "It's no safer in there…"

Gabby was on her way out but she noticed Donna was staring at something, perhaps something no one else saw. "Donna? C'mon," she gently called to the woman.

Donna seemed to blink out of another trance. Like the fluttering, the heartbeats wouldn't stop. "Right…"

Gabby nodded and turned to leave, when the doors literally shut in her face. It actually hurt her nose a bit. Her brow furrowed in confusion and, frankly, a bit of anger. "HEY!" Donna rushed over to her side to bang on the door as well. They were not going to stay inside. If they were going to die then they wanted to do it with their friends.

"Doctor!" Donna roared with each bang she hit the door with.

The Doctor had already ran to the TARDIS to pry the doors open. Renata attempted to do the same but nearly fell from weakness if Jack hadn't tightened his hold around her.

"What's happened!?" Renata cried as she watched the Doctor pull the doors in vain. Gabby and Donna were collectively shouting to be freed, even accusing the Doctor of locking them away, but of course he hadn't done it.

"What did you do!?" the Doctor furiously turned to the Supreme Dalek.

"This is not of Dalek origin."

"Of course it's you!" Renata exclaimed. "Now open the doors!"

The Doctor didn't believe a word either. "Stop it! They're my friends. Now, open the door and let them out!"

"This is Time Lord treachery!" the Supreme declared, bringing the Doctor to a momentary pause.

"Me!?" he repeated, frankly incredulous. They didn't have an actual body but they had a stupid eye stalk to see. "The door just closed on its own!"

"Nevertheless: the TARDIS is a weapon and it will be destroyed." As soon as the Supreme Dalek declared it, a trapdoor opened up underneath the TARDIS and swallowed it whole.

Gabby and Donna both fell backwards on the floor with the harsh drop.

"NOOO!" Renata screamed just like before when the Doctor had been struck by a Dalek. She frantically pushed Jack away and tried running, only to fall with her wobbly legs. Golden energy sprang from her body, though, and hit the spot where the TARDIS had just been.

"Detain the Time Lady," the Supreme Dalek ordered.

"Stay back tin-boys," Jack aimed his gun at them. It might not do much but he wasn't going to let more people get taken.

"Now stop it!" the Doctor was enraged as he turned towards the nearing Daleks. He ran to Renata to help her stand but hissed when his hands touched her body. "You stay the hell away from her! And bring my friends back! Where are you taking them!?"

"The Crucible has a heart of Z-Neutrino Energy. The TARDIS will be deposited into the core."

Renata was lucid enough to understand the implication. She used the Doctor as a pillar to stand again and glared at the Supreme Dalek. "You've taken...the defeeeence...down!" She breathed hard but it would not stop her from attacking if she needed to. "You'll killll...them!"

~ 0 ~

Inside the TARDIS, Gabby and Donna cried for dear life. The fall - wherever they were heading - was picking up speed the longer they took. They each held to a rail and watched as the console lights spark and shoot fires as if they were cooking.

And maybe they were…

Gabby gripped her railing as hard as she could, bringing a white shade to her skin in the process, but if she was paying attention to her fingers she would see a light lavender glow. But she was too scared to do anything but scream and cry, and think about the fact she was going to die.

"The jar!" Donna was the first to see the jar with the Doctor's severed hand glowing like mad. It almost looked like it would finally tip over from all the shakes.

"Donna, don't!" Gabby reached for the ginger when she attempted to get to the console.

Donna had heard the heartbeat again and this time she was sure that it was coming from the console. She needed to know what it was. So, however way she could, she wobbled towards the console.

"Donna!" Gabby shrieked when one particular spark billowed a gray smoke over them. She let go of the rail and nearly fell over the other one. Her best bet was following Donna and be near the Captain's chair.

The two made it just before the TARDIS threw them flat on their stomachs.

Donna shook her head then raised it. Her eyes locked on the jar with a new sense of determination. It was calling to her, in heartbeats. She felt like she couldn't turn away anymore. It needed her.

"Am I crazy…" Gabby was squinting from the smoke, "...or do I hear fluttering -- Donna!" She'd caught Donna's arm just as the ginger had reached for the jar. As soon as Donna touched it, the regeneration energy in the jar wrapped around them until the entire jar shattered. 

~ 0 ~

The TARDIS appeared on a screen for the group to see. It was being submerged into an oozy energy.

"The females and the TARDIS will perish together! Observe," the Supreme Dalek said. "The last children of Gallifrey is powerless."

Renata was destroyed - more than that but she wouldn't be able to describe it if anyone asked her - when she saw the screen. It was too much like watching her family burn all over again. She gripped the Doctor's arm around her, perhaps squeezing it too tight but he didn't notice. He couldn't feel.

He felt utterly powerless as he watched his friends practically burn to death. "Please. I'm begging you, I'll do anything! Put me in their place! You can do anything to me, I don't care, just get them out of there!"

But the Daleks said nothing.

Renata frantically looked between the screen and the empty spot behind them. That was Gabriella - Gabby - dying in there, the girl who'd been so curious about the world that she took the greatest risk of her life by coming into the TARDIS. It was Gabby, the first girl - the first human - to ever make Renata feel fondness towards them. Martha had done wonders but even after her, Renata was always weary of humans...even poor Donna got a taste of it before meeting Gabby.

Gabby had helped change Renata so much and the Time Lady had only realized it up until now. The intoxicated energy inside her was a result of her trying to keep Gabby safe. Never in her life did Renata ever dream of putting herself in danger for a human. Each person she'd met so far had slowly changed her - no one more than the Doctor - but Gabby was a really close second.

And now she was gone. Dead.

"You are connected to the TARDIS. Now, feel it die," the Supreme Dalek said to the Doctor.

~ 0 ~

The regeneration energy exploded and managed to throw Gabby across the room, her back hitting the rails. The golden energy around her had faded as a strong purple glow took over instead. Donna, however, seemed more immune to the regeneration energy. It merely left her to spread to the severed hand now twitching...spreading more...and more...until it formed the shape of a man.

And then suddenly the Doctor sprang up from the floor.

Donna gawked with a mouth fully open. "It's you!"

"Oh yes!"

Her eyes happened to lower and made her realize he wasn't wearing any clothes. "And you're naked!"

It didn't faze him whatsoever. "Oh yes!"

~ 0 ~

"Total TARDIS destruction in ten rels!" one of the Daleks announced. "Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five!"

~ 0 ~

Gabby slowly blinked awake from her spot and saw the new Doctor trying to reach for something on the console. She ignored the question of how it was possible, but she knew it wasn't the Doctor they knew. "Hey - you get away from there!" She lurched towards him, with a hand forwards and accidentally fired a jet of purple butterflies.

It didn't reach the Doctor in time, for he had pressed a specific button on the console, but it did go over Donna who shrieked in horror and tried swatting them away. Gabby brought her hands to her chest, eyes widened and flickering from side to side.

Had she just done that?

~ 0 ~

"Four! Three! Two! One!" the Dalek said just as the TARDIS faded from the energy.

It struck the Doctor more than he would've thought. He felt empty and yet there was an overwhelming fury that began to spread through him.

"The TARDIS has been destroyed. Now, tell me, Doctor... what do you feel?" the Supreme Dalek asked him. "Anger? Sorrow? Despair?"

"Yeah," the Doctor answered through gritted teeth.

Renata sniffed as it truly dawned on her that Gabby and Donna were gone. She started to scream with the same fury the Doctor was keeping inside, only her fury seemed to bring something else outside. Once again, the golden energy burst from her to strike whatever was in front of her. Jack and Rose had to dive in opposite directions and the Doctor had to let go of her before he was burned. Renata's sobs were painful enough to hear, but it seemed like each time she expelled energy it physically pained her. The only difference now was that there were a few (half) formed golden butterflies in the midst of the energy blasts.

"The cosmic butterfly," Rose whispered in true horror. It was Renata. "She's here."

Jack had no idea what Rose meant but he did see more Daleks coming for them - for Renata - and decided to act. He grabbed his gun on the side and fired. "Get away!"

"Exterminate!" the Supreme Dalek directly shot Jack.

"No!" Rose watched Jack fall to the ground. She was yet to learn about his new immortal abilities - the ones she herself granted him. She rushed over to his side, hoping that they'd gotten just a bit lucky and that he would still be alive. "Jack! Oh, my God. Oh, no…"

The Doctor didn't know whether to go to Rose and keep her away from the leering Daleks or Renata who was still crying and bursting with energy. The Time Lady helplessly cried but the Doctor no longer knew if her tears were for Gabby and Donna or for herself being in physical pain.

"Detain the Time Lady in the Vault, along with the Doctor and their companion," the Supreme Dalek commanded.

Renata could see her surroundings from the corners of her eyes and it looked a lot like Daleks. She groaned and put her best effort to standing up without hurting the Doctor and Rose.

"You need to stop," the Doctor hurried to catch her before she fell forwards.

"I-I can't," she swallowed hard, clearly in pain. "It's-it's just coming ou…" Her body lurched forwards again, onto him in the process. He understood she couldn't control it and it scared him that this was her end as well. If the toxins were in too deep then regeneration wouldn't be possible.

He didn't want to lose her twice.

~ 0 ~

The new Doctor had found himself a blue suit to wear and was making mends to the TARDIS to the best of his ability under the circumstances. "All repaired! Lovely. Shh! No-one knows we're here! Gotta keep quiet. Silent running, like on submarines when they can't even drop a spanner. Don't drop a spanner. I like blue, what do you think?"

Donna was completely awed by the fact there was a literal copy of the Doctor in front of them, but Gabby was a bit more angry.

"You tell me how the hell I conjured butterflies!" She pointed at him as if he was the reason for her new ability, and in pointing at him...she released more purple butterflies that he had to swat away from his face.

"Watch where you point that thing!" he said with a scrunched face.

"How is this possible!?" Gabby stomped her foot. "How are you possible!?"

"Maybe it's what Time Lords do," Donna said after some careful thinking. "Like they lop a bit off and grow another one? You're like worms!"

"No, no, no, no, no, I'm unique!" the Doctor said, sounding incredibly offended. "Never been another like me! Because all that regeneration energy went into the hand - look at my hand, I love that hand…" he wiggled his fingers but that didn't bring any amusement from either woman. "But then you touched it -- WHAM!" he screamed so loud that both women jumped.

"Stop that!" Gabby exclaimed.

"It was an instantaneous biological metacrisis. I grew... out of you," he said to Donna, not appearing to like the reality of things. "Still, could be worse."

Gabby exchanged a look with Donna and without having to tell her to do it, Gabby raised her finger and pointed it at the Doctor. A series of purple butterflies slapped his face.

"Stop that!" He cried.

"Then watch it, spaceman!" Donna snapped. She wasn't going to let some carbon copy tell her off.

"Oi! Watch it, Earth-girl!" the Doctor ended up using the same tone, surprising himself and the others in the process. "Oh!" he was even doing the same gaping mouth expression as Donna. "I sound like you! I sound all... all sort of, rough!"

"Oi!" Donna said, not sure if that was an insult or just something Doctor-y.

"Oi!" went the Doctor in the same exact tone.

"Oi!"

"Oi!"

"Would you stop it!?" Gabby shouted at them both. "We need to get back to the Crucible and save the others!"

But as Gabby reminded them of the pending trouble, the Doctor had come to another realization. His hand was over his chest and there was a completely terrified expression on his face. "You are kidding me, no way. One heart...I've got one heart! This body... has got only one heart!"

That definitely got both Gabby and Donna to freeze. "What?" They even said together.

Donna wanted to verify for herself so she put her hand over his chest and felt the one heartbeat underneath. "You're human!"

"Oh, that's disgusting!" cried the man.

"Would you stop that!?" Gabby once more shouted at him. She was finding it hard to believe that this was truly another Doctor when he was being so incredibly rude towards their kind.

"I'm... part Time Lord, part human…" the Doctor scowled and looked at Donna. "Well, isn't that wizard?"

"I kept hearing that noise... that heartbeat," Donna said, beginning to feel like it was all his fault.

"Oh, that was me. My single heart," he said dismissively as he went back to the console. "'Cos I'm a- complicated event in time and space, must've rippled back. Converging on you."

"But why me?"

"Because you're special."

Donna got exasperated with the stupid answer. "Oh, I keep telling you: I'm not."

"Of course you are, Donna." Even Gabby was agreeing with him which just further irritated her.

"Oh…" the Doctor realized something after really studying Donna's shifting response, "You really don't believe that, do you? I can see, Donna... what you're thinking. All that attitude, all that lip, 'cos all this time... you think you're not worth it."

"Stop it," Donna spat and turned her head away from him and Gabby.

"Shouting at the world 'cos no-one's listening. Well... why should they?"

"Do you really think that about yourself, Donna?" Gabby softly asked. Donna wouldn't look at her but she didn't shake her head to deny it either. "Why? I think you're amazing."

"Oh," Donna scoffed. "Please. You're an artist -- you've got your whole life ahead of you and what have I done with mine? Waste it."

"You haven't wasted your life, Donna. It's been a bumpy ride but there's so much you can do."

"We were always heading for this," the Doctor mumbled in thought, getting both women to gaze at him. "You came to the TARDIS on your wedding day--"

"--I was kidnapped!" Donna said, for a moment sounding like Renata that she smiled for just one second.

"And you found me again," the Doctor went on, referring to the Adipose Industries event. "Even your grandad...and your car!" he was suddenly so excited. "Donna, your car! You parked your car right where the TARDIS was gonna land, that's not a coincidence at all! We've been blind! Something's been drawing us together for such a long time!"

"Stop spinning your crazy man," Gabby physically went ahead and stopped him from endlessly turning in his spot. "And explain yourself."

"You're talking like... destiny," Donna released a breath. "But there's no such thing... is there?"

"The Cosmic Butterfly is a well known destiny," the Doctor said and looked to Gabby who just blinked response.

"Come again?"

"Well it's what I know, what I heard," he said. "Cos see, the parallel worlds' walls have been crumbling for some time and a lot of these things echo into our world, bleed through it. And since I was a complicated event in the time lines, I heard things. You, Gabby, are the Cosmic Butterfly. You are another fixed point in time. You are…" he seemed to run out of breath just thinking about whatever the Cosmic Butterfly truly was, "You are something that...requires a lot of caution."

"Doctor, you're scaring me," Gabby took a few steps back and swallowed hard. "Rose said the same thing about a butterfly…but she thought it was Renata."

"No, it's you. You're the Cosmic Butterfly. Your finger!" He reached for her hand despite having to fight with her to take it. "Your hands! You're already beginning to express those powers! My regeneration energy kickstarted them! They've been dormant up until now. Sorry about that."

Gabby's head was spinning with thousands of questions but the main thing she wanted to know concerned Renata. For whatever that was happening to herself right now, she didn't feel weak like Renata was. The energy was just coming out of her like nothing. Clearly, it wasn't the same for Renata. "What about Ren? She's worse off than me."

"Because she's not like you," the Doctor said, visibly swallowing hard. Fear had etched across his face, his eyes widening slowly. "Word will travel about her. They have in other worlds. She's...something else, something more chaotic..."

"What do you mean?" Gabby felt her chest constrict. The prediction of death, that's all that came to mind.

"They called her...the Vortex Butterfly in the other worlds."

~ 0 ~

Down in the vault there were few noises, and the few were overpowered by the constant groans and cries of Renata. The Daleks had placed her, the Doctor and Rose in three separate 'prisons' in the Vault room - a spacious room - that looked more like spotlights. The Doctor was in-between Renata and Rose, but despite where they were and what was probably coming next, most of the Doctor's attention - if not all - was on his right.

Renata was sitting over her legs, her body leaning forwards as if she were throwing up, and couldn't stop groaning. Every part of her body ached. Because every few minutes her body would expel more golden energy that inflamed her entire prison - blinding anyone around her - and would then leave her in a more weakened state. And when she wasn't groaning, she cried, because of the pain...and because her friends were dead.

"Interesting child of Time," Davros' raspy voice honestly gave Rose the shivers. Perhaps it wasn't all that bad being trapped inside the prison if it meant keeping Davros from touching her. However, he seemed more focused on the Time Lady on their far right. "I assume this is the Cosmic Butterfly Dalek Caan mentioned."

The Doctor gritted his teeth so hard he actually felt the sting of pain through his jaw. "You leave her alone," he darkly warned.

"It is time we talked, Doctor, after so very long--"

"No, no, no, no, no. We're not doing the nostalgia tour. I want to know what's happening right here, right now, 'cos the Supreme Dalek said 'vault', yeah? As in, dungeon. Cellar. Prison. You're not in charge of the Daleks, are you? They've got you locked away down here in the basement, like, what, a servant? Slave? Court jester?"

"We have... an arrangement," Davros barely finished when Renata's loud, raspy laugh cut through the conversation.

She raised her head a bit, revealing her pale cheeks. "Forrrrgive mee…" she drew in a breath, "...for laughing….ha!" She groaned and clutched her stomach.

"You're the Dalek's pet!" the Doctor spat.

Davros turned his chair towards Rose, and in doing the blonde leaned back as if he would cross the prison. "So very full of fire, is he not? And to think, you crossed entire universes, striding parallel to parallel to find him again."

"Admirable," Renata once again cut in, surprising Rose (and perhaps the Doctor for a moment). Renata wished she could stand but she honestly couldn't even feel her legs anymore. "She's...been brave enough...to do what...some of us couldn't. He had toooo leave her...but sheee...she fought to come baaack…" She tried turning her head in Rose's direction in a way that would cause her the least throbbing. "Admirable. Brave."

For a moment, Rose's face softened at the woman. "I've met a lot of versions of you...but you're the only who's ever complimented me."

Renata smiled weakly. "Yeah, well...I'm not a nice person," she sniffed. "In fact...I'm a liar."

"Enough!" Davros snapped but Renata screamed and let the energy flame from her body.

"If I'm dying then I'm gonna say what I want!"

"Renata, save your energy," the Doctor turned to her desperately. "Please, no more talking, no more moving…"

"Ah, forget it Doctor," Renata swallowed hard and turned her body to face him and Rose instead of Davros. "For once...I want to be honest. And if this is really it...I want people to know that I-I did get better. I tried to."

"Don't-don't talk," the Doctor continued to plead but she had made her choice.

"Rose, you have to understand…" Renata shuddered a breath and placed a palm against the invisible barrier. She was going to try to stand. "I-I'm not, I've never been a good person but he--" she made a small nod towards the Doctor, "--he found something good in me. He tried helping me and I repaid him by breaking his hearts."

Rose didn't know why but she was clinging to Renata's every word. She could feel the woman's pain and regret, making her appear more human than any other version she'd met before.

"I-I made...all the wrong choices," Renata scrunched her face as she struggled to stand up.

"Renée, please," the Doctor whispered for her to stop but she just wouldn't.

"And when I-I realized that I...that I made the wrong choice, I didn't do anything about it. I let time pass me by, centuries, until I felt like I was just...floating through. But you, Rose, you were the opposite. Things pulled you apart...but you wouldn't take it - you did something about it. And now here you are. That...that is admirable. I respect you. I didn't before but...well, that's another thing the Doctor and everyone else on this planet has taught me."

Rose actually felt tears in her eyes. She didn't even know Renata enough to cry over something she said about her, but Rose couldn't help it. It was as if she could feel every last bit that Renata was harboring inside her hearts. "There were rumors about the Cosmic Butterfly that didn't make sense to me," Rose almost smiled at the irony. Some would say that the Cosmic Butterfly was a dangerous creature and yet others said it was known to be emphatic and even made it a two way street. Perhaps this is what Renata was doing unknowingly.

Renata was none the wiser. She had started something and she wanted to finish it before her body prevented her from. "You know what? Right now, I'm 756 years old and I realize that I don't think I've ever truly loved my lives. I've lived, almost had a child, but I was never really happy." She paused for a moment, head hanging low before concluding what she wanted to do. She'd managed to stand up but was leaning entirely against the prison's wall. She met the Doctor's gaze with a sad smile. "I confess that I, Renata, Reneé, might just want to die."

Now it was the Doctor's turn to get ready eyed. With their proper tools Renata couldn't follow the true customs of what a Time Lord did before dying. Her confession dial was non-existent and so she would do it verbally. She would confess the last of her secrets to him, to anyone who would listen.

"Please don't do it," his beg was frail but Renata just sniffed and smiled at him, assuring him things would be okay even when she had no idea if that was true.

"I confess that I made the wrong choice centuries ago because I was scared, because I was a coward. I confess that I never truly moved on. And I confess that meeting you again scared me to the bone because I was afraid of falling again. I was afraid of hurting you again. And I did it. And I am so sorry. I confess that I do love you, that I have never stopped, and that is not a regret."

The Doctor wished he could get to her in that moment and hold her. He didn't even think about their argument, much less his anger. She truly felt like she was dying and what was worse is that she wanted to die. She didn't want to live anymore. Her life was so unbearable that she would rather it end. He pounded a fist against the wall keeping him away from her, frustrated that he couldn't do any of the things he wanted.

Renata turned her head at Davros who'd been nothing but silent for the past minutes. Her expression had gone dark, a new emotion she had yet to display. "And I confess that if I'm truly dying, I am going to take down every last Dalek on this ship. You wanted a child of Time? You got the worst one." The flames of energy danced over her body until, once again, it was released and covered her prison from top to bottom.

"Interesting energy," Davros had to confess himself. "The same energy that Dalek Caan spoke of." He pressed a button on the control panel of his chair and revealed Dalek Caan himself planted on a platform in the room.

"She is the Vortex Butterfly," Dalek Caan said in a sing-song manner. Confusion spread across the Doctor's face but a more fearsome feeling took over Rose. She spared Renata a brief glance with widened eyes.

"That's not - that's…" the Doctor did the same and stared down at Renata. She'd crumpled to the floor again, groaning as new flames of energy prepared to burst. "That's the...vortex!" the Doctor almost smacked himself for being so blind. "Of course!"

"What is he talking about?" Rose asked him, eyes flickering from Renata to Dalek Caan.

"The golden energy is the Time Vortex but I couldn't know that because the toxins have mutated it with the Osiran energy. I completely forgot that the Osiran energy's main function is to heal and that's a huge contradiction to the levels of the Vortex inside Renata, not to mention the Block Transfer energy from Zhe's gallery. It's growing volatile the more it combines." 

Rose hated to admit that in times like these, she still could find a moment to appreciate his rambling of light speed.

Renata began to cry again but the burst of energy overshadowed her voice. The Doctor turned to the woman, trying to keep his eyes on her despite the blinding light from her energy. "The Time Vortex, the Block Transfer energy, the Osiran energy...they've created something new. The Vortex Butterfly. The butterflies, Renée."

"The butterflies of death," Dalek Caan giggled, causing a deepened scowl to mark the Doctor's face.

"Shut up!" He snapped.

When the cortex energy dissipated once more, Renata slightly turned her head at him. Her eyes were red and teary from fatigue. She noticed the way Rose was now staring at her. "You-you about this, don't you?"

Seeing who she was talking to, the Doctor quickly turned to Rose, desperate for any information that could help Renata. "Rose? Please?"

Rose didn't want to say anything particularly bad considering Renata had just poured her hearts and feelings out to her just minutes before. It would be wrong but... keeping quiet would also be wrong. "I thought you were the Cosmic Butterfly. The Vortex Butterfly is a far more dangerous creature when it wants to be. I've met many versions of you and...and some of them were like Gabby. These big butterfly creatures...like hybrids."

For a minute, Renata panicked at the idea that perhaps death wasn't coming for her. A space mutation was creeping over instead. "So...so what's going to happen to me?"

"So cold and dark. Fire is coming... the endless flames…" Dalek Caan answered and this time it was Rose who shot it a glare.

"Shut up! I don't understand how you know all that, but--"

"Dalek Caan flew into the Time War, unprotected," Davros explained to her. "He saw Time. Its infinite complexity and majesty raging through his mind."

"And I saw everything," Dalek Caan agreed from the platform. "The Vortex Butterfly draws from the Time Vortex itself and can kill anything in its path. The Cosmic Butterfly can follow in the same path. I saw them and I saw all three of you here, and I know that the Doctor will be here, as witness, at the end of everything. The Doctor and his precious Children of Time! And one of them will die...!"

The Doctor could barely contain his rage, but in the end what was the point of containing it? "Was it you!? kill Donna and Gabby? Why did the TARDIS door close? Tell me!"

Davros was delighted by the sight. "Oh that's it! The end, the fire, the rage of a Time Lord who butchered millions. There he is. Why so shy? Show your companions... show them your true self." The Doctor did not look anywhere but the floor, uneasy. "Dalek Caan has promised me that, too.

"I have seen it. At the time of ending, the Doctor's soul will be revealed," Dalek Caan confirmed, but the Doctor wasn't having it from a ridiculous Dalek that couldn't even move anymore.

"What does that mean?"

"We will discover it together... our final journey," Davros promised. "Because the ending approaches. The testing begins."

"Testing of what?" the Doctor called when Davros turned away from them.

"The Reality Bomb." He brought up a screen for them to see exactly what he was talking about. "Behold... the apotheosis of my genius."

Down in a chamber were dozens of humans crowded into one spot like a herd. The Doctor dreaded what they were planning on doing with the innocent humans, but all he could do was watch.

~0~

"Now you tell me what this whole butterfly thing is all about!" Gabby was rounding on the new Doctor while he madly went around the console, trying to figure out what the Daleks were up to. "Or so help me-" but before she could finish her threat, the TARDIS shuddered and rocked the trio inside.

"It's the planets. The twenty-seven planets!" the Doctor realized once he caught sight of the monitor.

~0~

Renata had raised her head the necessary amount to see what was on the screen. Each stolen planet were bathed in a white glow.

"But that's Z-Neutrino Energy," the Doctor realized first. "Flattened by the alignment of the planets into a single stream - no!" he shouted once he figured out the plan. There were too many lives at stake and they had no care about it. "Davros. Davros, you can't! You can't! NO!"

The planets glowed stronger but inside the chamber the humans were beginning to dissolve into atoms. And just like that, the glows around the planet disappeared, but so had the humans entirely.

~0~

"What...what just happened?" Rose swallowed hard. She could see the Doctor's blind panic - almost feel it herself - and the satisfaction on Davros crusty face meant true horror.

"Electrical energy, Miss Tyler," Davros answered. "Every atom in existence is bound by an electrical field. The Reality Bomb cancels it out - structure falls apart. That test was focused on the prisoners alone. Full transmission will dissolve every form of matter."

"The stars are going out…" Rose quietly realized. It was what was killing the stars, but how could they do it in every world? She turned her head in Renata's direction, tears coming to her eyes. "It was me. You-you were right." Renata met the girl's gaze and, despite bearing no accusation, she confirmed it with silence. Rose felt like her lungs had run out of air once the load truly fell on her. She hadn't created any Reality Bomb, bit her traveling through parallel worlds had cracked the already weakened walls of the world's from the Battle of Canary Wharf. Each time she crossed to a different world, she gave the Daleks access to a new world of experiments. It was HER her fault.

"You couldn't have known," Renata exhaled as if she'd been holding her breath that whole time. "And besides, THEY they-" she narrowed her eyes at Davros, "-are the ones who created this. They stole 27 planets, turning them into one vast transmitter. And they blasted that wavelength…"

"Across the entire universe," Davros finished for her, eager to actually, as if he wanted everyone to know their amazing project. "Never stopping. Never faltering. Never fading. People and planets and stars will become dust. And the dust will become atoms and the atoms will become... nothing. And the wavelength will continue, breaking through the Rift at the heart of the Medusa Cascade into every dimension, every parallel, every single corner of creation. This is my ultimate victory, Doctor! The destruction of reality itself!"

[whathebash]

⌠ BOOBOO STEWART, TWENTY-THREE, CIS MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, SEBASTIAN “BASH” STEWART! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in KNIFE FIGHTING SKILLS, SWORD TRAINING, PRECISION SHOOTING, FIREARMS & SWAT TRAINING + MEDICAL TRAINING; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (messy manbun, lips pressed together tightly, head stuck in a thick book). when it’s the (cancer)’s birthday on 6/30/1997, they always request their VEGAN CHEESESTEAK from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

NAME: James Belikov Sebastian Stewart

KNOWN AS: Bash

BIRTHDATE:  June 30, 1997

ASTROLOGY:  Cancer sun / Taurus moon / Aquarius rising

HOMETOWN: Fredonia, AZ

RESIDENCE: Roseville, VA  ( Gallagher Academy )

GENDER:  Cis male  ( he/him )

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  Bisexual

HEIGHT:  5'8"

HAIR COLOR:  Dark brown

EYE COLOR:  Dark brown

TATTOOS:  coordinates of Munich  ( where his parents had been killed ) on the inside of his right arm,  a paw print on the bottom of his arm/shoulder, a Japanese quote on his side, an eagle on his back between his shoulder blades, a band around his left arm

KNOWN LANGUAGES:  English, Russian, Japanese, Spanish, & some German, French, Italian

IMMEDIATE FAMILY:

Vladislav Belikov:  Father, Blackthorne alum and former Brotherhood member turned spy for hire, deceased

Rosemarie Belikov:  Mother, spy for hire, deceased  

Aurora Belikov Spencer Stewart:  Younger sister, second year at Gallagher Academy  

Clarissa Belikov Summer Stewart:  Younger cousin sister, second year at Gallagher Academy

BACKGROUND.

Sebastian Stewart was born James Belikov, the eldest son of two spies whose world-renowned families had been in the business for generations. Him and his sister Aurora lived fairly sheltered on their Arizona ranch for the first few years of their life, cut off from civilization, with only their parent's visiting friends as rare guests. From a young age they both were groomed by their parents to be the absolute best, and nothing less. Jay Belikov grew up with a gun in his hand before he learned how to ride a bike, and instead of receiving a car for his sixteenth birthday, his parents let him and his sister join them on professional missions.

Even before they were old enough to assist on missions, the Belikovs often let their son and daughter travel along with them to wherever the mission was, only staying back in Arizona when the stakes were too high. They had never known spy prep schools or universities like Gallagher or Blackthorne existed until their family friends began enrolling, and the news trickled down to them.  Their parents had always been very adamant that the schools were useless, and the best training they could receive was by their sides, where they were treated like professionals. It was a position most budding spies would kill for.  

From a young age, he had always hated the spy life. Part of it stemmed from the fact that he was never given a choice in what he wanted to do with life;  his parents were world-renowned spies, like their parents, and their children would be the same.  Him and his sister had grown up where failure was not an option, nor was arguing.  His parents, though both kind and caring in their own way, made it clear that if they wanted out of the spy life, that meant losing them for good. And while he didn't always agree with them, family was EVERYTHING to him. So he learned to push down his own feelings and keep on trekking, for the sake of his family.  

In May, his parents had been on a mission when he and his sister were given word that they had been killed on the job, and were immediately sent into witness protection.  It wasn't until being contained that they learned a little more :   their deaths hadn't had anything to do with their most recent job, but likely due to a previous one that James, Clarissa and Rory potentially participated in.  Being placed in witness protection was for their safety,  and with it came new identities. Sebastian -- who insisted on going by Bash -- was devastated and in shock, but he had hoped that maybe this would mean a reason to be pushed into the normal world, one where he could leave the spy world for good. Instead, him, Aurora  ( now Spencer )  and Clarissa  ( now Summer )  were detained at a facility for six months, where they were unable to see any friends or family, have contact with the outside world, or do anything that could be considered a security breach before being sent to Gallagher Academy. 

GALLAGHER ACADEMY.

Bash and his sisters joined Gallagher Academy halfway through the fall semester, thrown into majors they didn't pick and classes that had already finished midterms. For a boy who had never been to an organized school before, to say it had been culture shock would be an understatement.  However, it turned out that school was actually… something he liked ?   Not the classrooms and curriculum themselves, but being in a place with other people his age, all with similar backgrounds as him, and -- even better -- ones with different backgrounds.  Though he's met quite a few spy families through his parents, seeing them had always been few and far between, making it a very alienating lifestyle.  It was nice to be around people his own age, and though shy, Bash had been able to make friends and start a life for himself.

At the beginning of the new year, Bash had been able to change one of his majors from combat to medical training, an area that's always interested him from a young age   ( unfortunately, he was probably the only boy in America who had parents who didn't want him to be a doctor ) .  He also entered a relationship -- his first ever -- with a girl he had been penpals with when he was younger.  Of course, he couldn't tell her that he was her old friend Jay, though the truth always finds a way of coming out.  She learned the truth on the night of the Valentine's Day party, causing a rift between them right in time for the three day school-wide lockdown and murder of his very own roommate. Eventually they reconciled and he told her the whole truth, and she became one of two people outside him and Spencer who knew the truth about his identity.   

That wasn't the only twist in the semester, unfortunately.  A few months later, an email blast was sent around with names of previous members of the Brotherhood, a terrorist organization that had targeted Gallagher once before, and had now returned.  Bash's father had been on that list.  This was all news to him, who had never thought his father had anything to do with spy schools, based on how he had been raised.  With his Uncle Jack  ( not related, just a close family friend )   at Gallagher as one of the alumni mentors, he had been able to learn the truth :   his father had actually attended Blackthorne Institute. Once that bubble had been popped, Bash slowly began to see his parents in a new light.

After a particularly challenging semester, Bash had been happy to get invited to Berlin for a summer internship -- not because of the experience, but because he and Spencer still had no home to return to while school was out.  They've officially been in witness protection for a year, and as far as they were aware, no strides had been made in their parent's case, so they decided to take matters into their own hands.  Bash asks his encryption major girlfriend to look into the deaths of his parents, and from hacking into the German Intelligence's system, she was able to find that they had been killed in Munich, at the hands of an assassin -- and Bash's roommate's father. 

So the hunt to learn more about their deaths and the potential danger he and Spencer are in continues, all while Bash is beginning to get blackmailed by an anonymous source that knows about him and his sister's past... and threaten to expose it.  He hasn't told anybody about it, not wanting to worry them, but with so many moving parts going on in his life -- as well as an unknown future -- Bash is beginning to lose control.

PERSONALITY.

Bash is a quiet kid, not one to say much. After being homeschooled his entire life and being surrounded by nobody but his family, he’s pretty socially awkward around strangers and new people. His way of getting around it is keeping his head down and trying not to make waves, which is exactly what he does at Gallagher, though he has since found himself with more friends than he ever thought possible.

He had been raised not as an individual, but as one cog in the machine, and he always considered himself as such. His own individuality and thoughts and feelings had never really been something Bash had to take into consideration, so he's still really trying to figure out who he wants to be. Above all, he wants to get out of the spy world, but even with his parents being gone, he's afraid of ruining their legacy and losing his sister in the process. Now that his parents are gone, he wants more than ever than to make them proud. 

Bash is very non-confrontational and passive, a textbook people pleaser. You could pour soup into his lap and he'd apologize. He's a great friend, and an amazing listener  ( the type to actually remember when you tell him things ) ,  but as a conversationalist ?  He could be better.

MORE INFORMATION / HEADCANONS.

He's fluent in Russian because it's his father's native language, and knows Japanese because of his mother.

Bash is fiercely protective of his little sister Spencer, even though he knows she can take care of herself. 

Of all the different lessons and skills his parents had taught him, Bash has always been best at hand-to-hand combat, excelling above most men his age.  There's rarely a fight that he'll lose -- it's one of the reason he switched out of combat major to something different, because he didn't love the attention that came with it. He rarely fights or works on his combat skills, though he's always willing to help a friend out who needs it.  He's a great tutor.

What he's not good at is anything that involves cracking a textbook. Bash is an undiagnosed dyslexic, so reading and writing has never been his strong suit.  Luckily, when you're homeschooled by crazy spy parents, it's not really a skill that's needed.

For his most recent birthday, his Uncle Jack had gifted him a fishing boat that he had previously owned, named after James himself. Don't ask me where it is right now because I have no idea.

He's been a vegan since he was sixteen. His mother had been a vegan for as long as he could remember, so even before he fully made the change, it was often all he ate. Bash was a total mama's boy, as if that's any surprise.

CURRENT & WANTED CONNECTIONS HERE.

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 17

Warnings: slight mention of sex, profanity

Fandoms: Extraction, Tyler Rake

Tagging: @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“I don't know why I have to do this,” Ovi grumbles, as feels the toe of Tyler's boot against him, kicking his feet further apart. The gun range is the last place he wants to be. He hasn't held a gun since Dhaka, and he'd be more than happy never have to hold one again.

 “Because I said so, that's why,” Tyler retorts.

  He's on edge today; his tone gruff, patience thin, relying a little more on the painkillers than usual. Little to no sleep finally getting the better of him. Even long after Esme had fallen asleep next to him on that tattered and torn couch in the garage, he'd done nothing more than stare up at the ceiling. Her warm, soft body wrapped in his arms, her hair tickling his skin as her head lay against his chest, her breath soft and slow.  A million and one thoughts and worries plaguing him. Normally a job wouldn't have him this worked up emotionally speaking. He usually was able to hold things together and prevent himself from dwelling on everything that could go wrong. But things were different. He feels it. An overwhelming sense of doom that he just can't shake.

 “Open your stance up,” he orders, once again using the toe of the boot to push the teenager's feet apart. “Put your shoulder in a bit more. Not that one. This one...” he places his hand on the kid's shoulder and makes the adjustments himself. “And hold it with two hands. Not one. Like this...” he stands behind him and reaches around to fix Ovi's hands. “Better control of it that way. Better aim.”

 “I still don't know why we're here,” Ovi says, as Tyler hands him a pair of protective ear coverings. “You don't wear them,” he frowns.

 “Mate, do you realize how fucked my hearing is after all these years? The noise doesn't bother my ears anymore.”

 “I always thought it was just selective hearing. That you just pretended you couldn't hear when Esme was bitching you at.”

 “Sometimes I legitimately can't hear what the hell she's saying. Other times I just act like it. Every now and then I even do it because I know having to repeat things drives her insane and it's hilarious to watch her get all worked up,” he steps to the shooting area beside Ovi, and snaps a magazine into place on the rifle that Esme had fixed the night before. “Just don't tell her I said that last part, yeah? I'd like to see my next birthday.”

 He flicks off the safety and raises the rifle to his shoulder, expertly releasing five rapid shots that hit the target in the distance in the head. “And that's why we're here,” he says, and nods in the direction of his handiwork. “So you can learn how to do shit like that.”

 “It's going to take me forever to be that good at,” Ovi laments. “You've been doing this forever. This is only my second time holding a gun. It's been five years.”

 “And now is as good a time as any. I'm leaving you alone...with my family...for a week. Maybe less. Probably more. I want you to be able to at least hit someone to kill them if you have to. Would you move your feet further apart...” he sighs in exasperation. “...loosen up a bit. What are you so worked up about? It's not going to jump up and bite you.”

 “Just bad memories,” he says. “The last time I did this...”

 “The last time you did this, you saved my life. Both our lives. So just take a breath and relax. The targets can't shoot back. That's the only time you really have to worry. If someone's on the other side shooting back at you. Then you just have to make sure you're quicker than they are. Now just take a deep breath, line up your shot, and pull the trigger. It's not that hard.”

 Ovi sighs heavily, then briefly closes his eyes and deeply inhales.

 “Let the breath out as you pull the trigger,” Tyler instructs.  “Both hands tight, but not too tight. Arms steady, but don't lock them out. Got it?”

 Nodding, the kid opens his eyes and releases the breath just as he pulls the trigger. The gun is light in his hands, yet packs a punch, and offers an impressive recoil.

 “Not bad,” Tyler nods in approval. “Pretty much got 'em in the centre of the chest. You just have to remember to stay calm. Freaking out isn't going to do a damn bit of good. Only thing a case of bad nerves is going to do is cause you to fuck up.”

 “It's hard not to be nervous. The last time I did this...”

 “The last time doesn't matter. That was five years ago. You did what you have to do. You saved my ass. And your own. Stop second guessing yourself about that. There was nothing else you could have done.”

 “It sucked. Having to do that. Having to kill someone.”

 “As bad as it sounds, it gets easier.”

 “When? The second time? The third time?”

 “I don't know. One day I woke up and I realized it didn't really bother me anymore.  I might have been a week into my first tour in Afghanistan.”

 “So you were still just a kid. When you first killed someone.”

 Tyler nods. “I was nineteen. Just turned it a couple of weeks before. I did what I had to do. I didn't have a chance to second guess myself. I mean, that’s what I was there to do, right? Kill people if I had to.  Same thing I do now. I kill people that deserve it. I do what I have to do to get my client out alive. To get myself out alive.”

 “Do you feel anything? At all?”

 “Not really. Maybe I've just never sat back and thought about it. It's not like you get the chance in the middle of shit to sit back and consider what you're doing and if there's another way of doing it. You just react. You're on autopilot. You've got all this adrenaline going through you and you just go with it.  Sometimes I'm not even aware of what I've done until afterwards. When I get to chance to look at it or think about it later.”

 “Like the men in the apartment? The ones that took me?”

 Tyler nods.

 “It scared me. After you untied me and I walked out there. When I saw all the dead bodies. I couldn't understand how one person could do all of that by themselves. I thought, if he can do all of that to them, what is he going to do to me? What is he capable of doing to me? And then you threw me in the trunk...”

 It's the first time in over five years that they've talked about it.  With all of Ovi's struggles with his mental health issues, it was a part of the past that neither of them felt need to be revisited.  Both of them had been concentrating on the present; on getting healthy both physically and mentally. Tyler had his own shit to deal with; PTSD never disappears and there are days when it rarely affects his life and others when it seems to consume him.   The monsters and the demons of the past may be at rest, but it doesn't take much for them to stir.

 “Technically, I didn't throw you in the trunk,” Tyler says. “I pushed you towards it and you got in.”

 “Because I was afraid you were going to kill me if you didn't. I saw what you did to those guys. You killed them. All of them. By yourself.”

 “Well I had to get you out someway,” he reasons, and selects another weapon from the military issued ruck sack behind the safety barrier. “I did what I had to do.”

 “Some of them you even killed with your bare hands.”

 “Yeah, and I'd kill them again if I had to. Here...” he takes the handgun off of Ovi and holds out a semi automatic rifle. “Try this one for size. Be careful though. That one does bite. Has one hell of a kick back if you don't know what you're doing.”

 The kid's eyes widen as he reluctantly takes the item offered to him.  “Would you have killed me too?” he inquires, as Tyler cracks the seal on a bottle of water he pulls from the bag and takes a sip.

 “I wasn't hired to kill you, mate. I was hired to take you home.”

 “In the forest. You threatened to kill me and Saju.”

 “I just wanted you to shut the fuck up and listen to me. Funny how some things never change, huh?”

 Ovi smirks at that.  “But would you have? Killed me? If there was no other choice?”

 “It's been five years, kid. It's all over and done with. Why...?”

 “If you had no other choice, would you have done it? Kill me?”

 “There would have been no reason to. I wasn't going to leave you in the street or just hand you over to Asif. I didn't listen to Nik when she told me to ditch you and I didn't listen to Gaspar when he wanted me to give you up for five million.  There would have been no reason to kill you.”

 “Just humour me,” Ovi says. “Just say there was a reason.”

 Tyler sighs, his eyes on the kid as he gulps down water. “I would have killed myself before I killed you,” he admits.

 Ovi blinks.

 “I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I left you behind. Or gave you up to Asif. I would have put a bullet in my own brain before I would have done anything to you. You've got to let this go, mate. It's been a long time. I know sometimes it feels like just yesterday, but it wasn't. It was five years ago. Almost six. You can't keep letting it fuck with you like this.”

 “Easier said than done.”

 “Look, I've spent ten years dealing with my own crap that I keep holding onto. Things in my past that I can't seem to let go.”

 “Your son?”

 Tyler nods. “Trust me when I say that nothing good comes of holding onto things for that long. It just causes even more problems. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Don't keep holding onto the past. It only drags you down. It eats away at you and it breaks you down and it kills you. Slowly. Don't do that to yourself. You're young. You've got a lot to live for still.”

 “So do you,” Ovi points out. “You have Esme. And the kids.”

 “And believe me, there's days where I'm only alive because they need me. Because I know how badly it would fuck with them if I was no longer around. Get your shit together, kid. Before everything you have right in front of you is gone. Like this girl you're seeing. Or dating. Or whatever the hell you want to call it.”

 “Dating,” he confirms. “We call ourselves boyfriend and girlfriend now.”

 “How cute,” Tyler smirks. “She going to start wearing your glass ring around her neck and your football jacket?”

 Ovi frowns. “What?”

 “Never mind. It's dumb shit we used to do in high school. So things are serious between the two of you, yeah? If you've got titles and all that now.”

 “I'm crazy about her,” Ovi admits with a long, content sigh. “She's incredible.”

 “Yeah, I recognize that look in your eye, mate. You're fucked now. I had that same look in my eyes five years ago and now look where I am.”

  There's a smile on his face as he says it. No matter how many wisecracks he makes, cheap shots he gets in, or no matter how many times they fight, there's no doubt in Ovi's mind that Tyler is wildly and crazily in love with his wife.  That he's perfectly content and at peace with where he is; a husband and a father.  

 “You still have that look in your eyes,” he points out, and a slow, wide grin spreads across Tyler's face.

 “Maybe I do, mate,” he says. Maybe I do.”

 ****

 They lay together on the backyard hammock; Esme's legs between his, her eyes closed as her head rests on his chest. Both of his arms draped around her slender body,  one hand on her hip, the other  on the small of her back, a leg hanging over the side as he uses his foot to move the hammock back in forth in a slow, controlled motion.  She smells amazing, a mixture of coconut shampoo and sex. Her hair still damp from the shower they'd taken together; using all the hot water up as their hands and their mouths languidly explored each other's bodies. Sharing long, slow, toe curling kisses until he'd picked her up and pinned her to the tiles, her legs wrapped around his waist as he took her hard and fast.

 It had been the second time that afternoon. When Nik and Yaz had announced that they were taking the kids in the next town over to see a movie -”So you two can spend time together”- they car had barely made it out of the driveway before their mouths and their hands were all over each other; hungry, demanding kisses, greedy and desperate fingers. Clothes being dropped in a path that led from the front door to the living room, where he'd made love to her on the couch. Languid, tender. Long lazy kisses and roaming fingers as he moved above her; their bodies slick with sweat, muscles trembling and aching from taking things so slow. A far cry from the usual hard and rough that she seems to prefer. But beautiful and intense in all its own right.  Her hands in his hair and her entire body arching off the couch when she came; his name leaving her lips in a long, breathy whisper that he felt to his very soul.

 Afterwards they'd showered, and with that came round two. Then they'd thrown on whatever clothes they could find and retreated outside; eating a spontaneous lunch that she'd thrown together with the leftovers from the night before.  It reminds him of the days when they were first married and living in their old apartment back in Australia. When he was still attending rehab four times a week and sometimes has to use a walker to get around when the pain became just too much to bear.  Life didn't exist outside of that apartment; save for the meals they'd share together out on the little balcony.  They'd been newlyweds then. With barely any furniture or other personal belongings, surrounded by unpacked boxes and various in home therapy equipment that had been sent for him, making love as often as possible on that mattress on the floor.

 Life had been so much simpler. Even with the agony and exhaustion that came with his lengthy recovery.  Even when he had to swallow his pride when it came to abandoning his control over even the day to day things. Falling more and more in love with her every time she trimmed his beard or cut his hair; the tender and adoring way she'd look at him, the way one hand would gently cradle his face. In awe of everything that she'd given up and everything that she did for him. She did it all without question; never complaining, never losing her temper when his emotions and frustrations got the better of him and he took it out on her.  By his side every step of the way; whether it be waking up in recovery rooms after surgeries to see her napping in a chair, or how -once he'd been transferred into a ward- she'd climb into bed with him ever so carefully, falling asleep next to him.  And then she'd started getting bigger with child...his child...and that awe in her only increased. Watching the way she not only took care of him but made sure that life they created together thrived inside of her.

 There was no way she could ever known just how much he appreciated everything she did back and then and everything she continues to do now. No words that could ever adequately express just how grateful he is. Not for just the things she did, but for the way she made him feel.  

 She moves against him, giving a little yawn as her hand comes up to rest against the side of her face, her knuckles repeatedly along his jaw and against his beard. “What are you thinking about?” she asks, as she places her chin on his chest and looks up at him.

 “Nothing really,” he replies, running his palm up and down her back.  “Just about our old place. How we moved in there with nothing. How you used to cut my hair and trim my beard and never once complained about it.”

 “Remember how we used to sleep on the floor on just a mattress?”  her hand slides across his shoulder and down his arm, fingertips tracing the tattoo on the inside of his bicep.

 “That's not all we used to do on that mattress,” he grins, and presses a kiss to the top of her head when she giggles.   “I remember the night that the baby kicked for the first time. Before we even found out it was a girl.”

 “You had the goofiest, cutest grin on your face. You were so proud of yourself for putting that baby in me. You used to always talk to her, do you remember that? Because you wanted her to know your voice. She'd be quiet all day and then you'd put your hand on my belly and talk to her and she'd start to squirm around. You were her favourite even then. You're always so cute. When I'm pregnant. Always so pleased with your handiwork. The way you always brag to people about your wife having a baby. Always touching my stomach. Just so sweet and cute and fluffy.”

 “Did you seriously just call me sweet, cute, and fluffy?”

 “Your abs aren't as hard as they used to be,” she teases, and squeezes his stomach. “There's a bit of a middle age spread coming along.”  Her hand slips up the front of his tank top, fingertips tracing each dent and ripple of muscle that still exists there. Even if there is a little bit of 'fluff' as she likes to call it.  “Look at me. I'm not the same person I was five years ago. I'm heavier now.”

 “You're beautiful. I don't care about this extra weight you keep complaining about. I never see it.”

 “My boobs are bigger. And my butt.”

 “Your boobs and your ass are incredible.”

 “And my hips are wider.”

 “You've had a baby. Four babies. My babies.”

 She smiles at that, her hand moving further up his shirt, fingers explore the various scars that mar his skin. She knows them all by heart, every smooth or jagged edge.  “I was thinking about Dhaka,” she admits, and he frowns.  “Not the bad stuff,” she quickly adds.

 “Wasn't it all bad?”

 “Not those first five days.”

 “Yeah...” he grins. “...those first five days were pretty damn good.”

 “That room was nasty though. It was so weird because the sheets were always so fresh and so white yet the rest of the place was so disgusting. How many times do you have to try and fix the toilet so it would flush properly?”

 “Too many.”

 “Remember the shower?” she has her chin on his chest again, eyes sparkling up at him. “Remember how there was barely any hot water and the nozzle was so low you couldn't even stand under it properly?  And I'd laugh at you and make fun of your height and call you a sasquatch?”

 “I can't believe you shit talked me like you did and I still put out.”

 “It's not my fault you're absurdly tall and your shoulders are absurdly wide. And you're the one that would always tease me about my height. Especially about our height difference. About how I was short enough that I didn't even have to kneel.”

 “Well, I wasn't lying about that,” he chuckles. “It's close. You almost don't have to kneel.”

 “Is it weird I kind of miss that room? Not the room itself. But what went on inside the room. Is that strange?”

 “No,” he wraps his arm even tighter around her, fingers continuously brushing against her shoulder. “Sometimes I miss it too. Just what went on in that room. None of the bad shit that happened after.”

 It wasn't just sex. Although that had been the biggest part of it. But it was there that they'd begun the journey of not only getting to know one another, but the process of healing and opening up to others. It was the first time he'd ever told anyone about Austin. They knew that he'd had cancer and passed away, but they'd never known the other part of the story. Esme had been the one that he'd confessed to. Telling her about he'd left voluntarily for a third tour in Kandahar while his son lay suffering and dying in the hospital, simply because he couldn't stand to watch.   And she hadn't judged him; not for his admission of guilt and the profound grief that came pouring out of me. She'd simply sat and listened; quietly, intently. And then had used her fingers to clear his tears away before taking his face in his hands and kissing him.

 The softest, sweetest kiss he'd ever experienced in his entire life.

 “I remember how the manager came up the third day,” he recalls. “Because the people next to us complained about  how noisy someone was being.”

 “Well if they didn't know your name after the first night, they sure knew it by then,” Esme laughs. “And you told him that I was screamer and you didn't know how to get me to stop, other than put a hand over my mouth.”

 “Yeah, and you responded how kinky it was and we should try it.”

 “And we did,” she laughs even harder now. “And it was kinky. And so fucking hot. Isn't that the same time you discovered my fetish for having my hair pulled?”

 “That and how much you liked to bite. I even have a scar right there...” he points to his right trap muscle. “...from your teeth. You're nasty for a little thing.”

 “Nasty in a fun way or a bad way?”

 “Both. But mostly in a fun way.”

 She smiles, then slides along his body and kisses him. Pushing a hand through his hair, fingers entwining in the longer strands at the top, his hand moving from her hip to join the other at the small of her back.  Their mouths moving against one another; lips, tongues, even teeth. Soft and slow. Deep and easy.  Then breaking away and exchanging several small pecks before she nestles her face into that favourite spot hers; between the side of his neck and his shoulder.

 “I wish you weren't leaving,” she says, her fingers still combing through his hair.  

 “I know,” he presses his lips to her forehead, and moves his arm up her back so it lays along her shoulders.

 “Remind me again why you're doing this?”

 “Because he needs my help. Because he doesn't have anyone that he trusts to get the job done properly. And because I'd want someone to help me if it was you and my kids.”

 “But what if it's all bullshit? What if you get there and it is some elaborate ruse to get you away from here?  So that you're there where they want you but we're here alone where they also want us and...”

 “Babe...” he tightens his hold on her. “...don't let your mind go there. Please. There's no reason to think that something like that is going on. I saw those videos of his wife and his kids. With my own two eyes. They were real.”

 “Or he and the wife are sickos and they're using their kids to make it more believable. What if...?”

 “It's real,” he insists. “Nik already checked into it. Everything he said is  the truth. Right down to being in New Zealand on the job when he met his wife. There wasn't one thing out of place. Not that she could find anyway.”

 “It is just so weird. That he'd just track you down out of nowhere. And why did he wait so long to actually talk to you? He said he'd even been following you in Guatemala. Even you have to admit that that is super weird. How'd he even know you were there?”

 “I honestly don't know. Maybe he found that all out when he got a hold of my file. Or whoever gave him the file knew where I was and told him.”

 “But following you? For what? I don't get that part.”

 “He said he was just trying to make sure that no one else was following me. He didn't want to approach me right away in cause someone else was tailing me. That happens. We get people tailing us all the time, reporting shit back to their people. Try not to worry about it, okay?” he rubs her shoulder comfortingly,  places a kiss on her brow. “It's all on the up and up. I promise.”

 “So how long?” her fingers slip from his hair and move to his ear, a nail tracing the outer edge . “Do you know how long you'll be gone for?”

 “A week. Two at the most. If I haven't found them in two weeks, I'm coming home regardless. I already told him that. Fourteen days and that's it. I told him I already promised that to my wife and I wasn't breaking that promise. I've got important shit to do here. I've got a baby to make.”

 She laughs against his throat.

 “Although I'll be really surprised and disappointed in myself if I didn't get the job done some time in the past four days. I've been busting my ass here.”

 “Oh what a hard life you've been living in the past few days. Getting laid at the drop of a hat. What a burden to have to bare.”

 “I'm willing to take one for the team. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.”

 She gives a little snort and shakes her head.

 “Ovi's going to stay in the house. I'd rather him be really close if something goes wrong and you need him.”

 “I already told that I'm perfectly capable of using a gun and protecting myself and our kids.”

  “And I already told you that I wasn't comfortable with that. So he's going to stay in the house. And you're going to call Nik if you think there's something weird going on. If you hear anything or see anything or you get any weird calls or messages. She'll come and stay here if you need her too. Yaz will be coming with me and manning the tech front. So I won't be there all alone.”

 “You'll be doing all the heavy lifting,” she points out. “And before you say 'I work better alone', I've heard  it a thousand times and I still think it's bullshit. I'm just worried about you, Tyler. I can't help it. I can't just turn it off because you want me to. I'd just feel better if someone was with you. Even this McCann guy. I mean it is his wife and his kids after all.”

 “They're being held in separate places. And I don't need someone constantly looking over my shoulder or slowing me down. I've never worked with a partner. Ever.”

 “You worked with me.”

 “That's completely different. We weren't doing the same job. You were there to get the information. I was there to make sure nothing happened to you while you did. That's not the same thing. Everything will go a lot smoother if he just does his own thing and I do mine. I've got Yaz on standby if I run into problems. Everything's going to be fine. I'll get the job done and I'll be home before you know it.  Leaving the toilet seat up and my dirty socks on the ground and driving you nuts.”

 “Is it weird I'm going to miss the dirty socks and the toilet seat being left up?”

 “No. It's not weird. I'm going to miss all the stupid shit you do too.”

 “Like what?”

 “Talking in your sleep. I can carry on whole conversations with you and you don't even remember them the next day.  How you always buy shampoo that smells like flowers and girly shit like that.”

 “You'd use dish soap if I let you. So you're one to talk.”

 “Hey, if it's good enough for those baby ducks in the commercial it's good enough for me.”

 She laughs at that.

 “And the way you make me eat kale. What the fuck is kale? It tastes like grass clippings and the tears of baby animals.”

 “First of all, I don't make you eat it. I put it in smoothies that you actually drink while you're working out. And it wasn't until the kale that you started to really bulk up. So...”

 “The kale has nothing to do with. It's the fact I've been eating like eight thousand calories a day. The kale has nothing to do with it.”

 “Just watch. You'll probably miss the kale smoothies while you're gone.”

 “I definitely will not miss the smoothies. But I will miss watching you make while you're wearing those little yoga shorts and one of my t-shirts. Now that I will miss.”

 “Just for you, I will wear those little shorts when you video chat with me tomorrow.”

 He arches an eyebrow. “Just the little shorts?”

 “You have to make sure you call when the kids are in bed though. Or you're getting a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. Those are your only options. It's either little shorts or sweats. So make a wise decision. It's the difference between having a study partner or studying alone.”

 “You're never going to let me live that down are you,” he chuckles, and carefully rolls over onto his side, so they're chest to chest. Then brings his other leg up onto the hammock and laying it across hers.  Both arms wrapped tightly around her, their noses touching.

 “Never. But if you're going to solo study while you're away, you should at least let me watch.”

 “Yeah?” he grins, sliding one hand down to her ass. “Then that's not really solo studying is it.”

 “Maybe I'm just a kinky bitch who thinks it's totally hot to watch her husband get himself off.”

 “Do I get to watch you?”

 “Maybe...” she pecks his lips, then his chin, around to the side of his throat. “...why? Do you like watching?”

 “I definitely like watching. What do you think about when you're doing it?”

 “What do you think about?”

 “I asked first.”

 “I think about lots of things,” she admits, as her tongue travels over the scar left behind from the shooting on the bridge. “I think about the way you use your hands,  the way you use your mouth, the way it feels when you're inside of me,” her hand slides down his chest, over his stomach and down onto his crotch. Palm coming in contact with the beginnings of his erection.  “What do you think about?”

 “The way it feels to be in your mouth,” he swallows heavily when her tongue passing over his Adam's apple and her hands cups him through the fabric of his shorts.  “The way you always look at me when you swallow. The way it feels to be inside of you.”

 “You don't get tired of it? Always feeling the same thing all the time?”

 “It never feels the same way. Ever,” he assures her. “It's amazing every time. Why? Do you get tired of it?”

 “I could never get tired of you,” she says, and shivers against him as his hand slides up the front of her t-shirt. “Ever.”

 “Even when we've been married for fifty years?”

 “Even then,” she declares, her teeth biting into her bottom lip when his hand brushes against her breast; palm cupping it as his thumb flicks over the nipple.  “Are you going to trade me in for three twenty year old’s when I turn sixty?”

 “Wait...” his hand stops its ministrations. “...that's an option?”

 “You're such a dick,” she laughs, and then gives a small sigh when his free hand grabs a hold of her ass and pulls her tight against him; his now rock-hard cock pressing into her.

 “You're stuck with me,” he says. “I'm not trading you in or getting rid of you. Ever. It's just you and me, babe. Until the bitter end.”

 She smiles, then pushes her hand into her hair and kisses him. “I think I can live with that.”

[kinghoranshit]

The Watchers (1D) - 24 Hours

Part 2

When my alarm went off, I didn't groan or fight it. It was game time.

The attire given by the organization was black, thick leggings, navy long sleeve, black sneakers, and bullet proof vest. The accessories were more for my personal taste; a utility belt, black fingerless gloves, a battery operated watch, and my blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. I harnessed my arrow carrier and crossbow to my back for easy reach. The utility belt carried two handguns and extra ammo, and then I had a few switch knives strapped around my thighs.

I was met with Louis's face when I opened my bedroom door and barely flinched. I was surprised to see him awake though. I assumed they would all sleep until the start.

"What's up?" I asked.

He ruffled a hand through his hair and averted eye contact for a couple seconds. "Uhm... Well, I thought you might want company."

"I appreciate the thought, Louis, but you're better off staying in the bedroom for now." I headed down the hallway, but was caught off by his words.

"You don't have to be a loner on this one, Katie."

I looked over my shoulder with a smirk. "I know. I don't mind the company, just thought you'd like the extra sleep before it begins."

He walked to where I was. "I haven't gotten proper sleep in ages. This isn't any different."

"Okay then." I nodded. "Come on."

We went downstairs and Louis watched as I set up the last of the traps. Then we ate a quick breakfast. Eventually, the others trailed downstairs to eat their breakfast; some ate more than others.

We were down to ten minutes.

"I should've asked this last night, but can any of you actually shoot a gun?"

"No," Niall laughed. "But I'm down for a quick how to."

"Me too," Louis stated.

I observed the other three faces and they looked less than thrilled to. As long as a couple of them knew, it would be fine. I nodded shortly. "Okay, once the timer starts, I'll grab a couple of the extra handguns and silencers for a fast tutorial."

At the mention of the timer, all of them averted eye contact. They stared at anything else they could in hopes to distract their minds. I knew that nothing I said would help; not even the fact that we were in a fucking fortress with cams everywhere, and I had all the weapons I needed. And the fact that I was even here.

But their lives were at risk, so I couldn't be too offended.

The hologram in the living room lit up and a voice boomed, "Let the bounty begin." Then the blue hue was gone and we were all silent, as if expecting that there were hunters waiting outside. Even I had to take a deep breath to calm the ringing in my ears.

There were some hunters out there. I knew, though, that if there were ones who tracked this place down, they'd still have to figure out how to get in. If there was any action, it wouldn't be for a good while. The longer we can stretch that period of time, the better.

I clapped my hands, which caused them all to jump a little and had to hide my laugh. "So, let's learn to shoot."

I walked over to the closest vault to get two extra pistols with silencers, then the two followed me to the basement level. I surveyed what we could use as practice targets, but there wasn't much down here. All the entertainment was on the main floor. I grabbed two pillows off the couch and tacked them onto the wall.

I pulled one of the pistols from my holster and held it up so Niall and Louis could see it. I pointed to the parts as I explained. "This is your trigger, never pull it unless you're ready to take the consequences. This is only a pistol, but you'll still feel the ricochet from the bullet leaving it. Next to that is your safety switch. Do not have it off unless you're intending to shoot. On the handle is a small button to release the packet. It's a quick and easy change out, just press and the empty will fall, and then to reload just push in a full packet. You want to feel and hear a click before shooting again. Any questions?"

Neither of them had too much shock on their faces. They took the information like champs in my opinion. Both worked their way through the buttons without actually pressing the trigger. I made them go through the movement of releasing the packet and reloading it a couple times. Baby steps were necessary in this instance.

"Can we shoot now?" Niall asked as he extended his arms out in front of him and squinted one eye as if it would help his aim be better. He made a shooting sound as he pretended to pull the trigger. This is why there's the safety switch; it's basically a security blanket.

I laughed under my breath. "Yeah, in a second. We're gonna start with the safety on. You need to know what that sounds and feels like first."

I held my pistol out with both hands gripped around it; the way they would be holding it. Should I also always hold it like this? Probably. Sometimes it's just not in the cards.

"When shooting, hold it with both hands to best handle any impact and best your aiming chances. Have one finger on the trigger incase. And to shoot, pull it, everything else should come naturally. Fairly simple, but can easily be fucked up."

"That's reassuring," Louis retorted as he assessed the pistol in his hands again.

I smirked. "You guys got this."

I watched them take their aim and knew immediately that Niall didn't have a good enough grip on it before he pulled the trigger. I tucked and rolled to catch it and grabbed his wrist to balance him back forward. I rested the pistol in his hand and positioned it.

"Grip harder. There isn't one second you shouldn't be squeezing. If your hand doesn't cramp up at some point, you're doing it wrong."

He swallowed and wiped his hands on his pants before he tried again. Louis took his first safety shot pretty well. He fumbled back slightly, but pivoted to stop himself. Once they'd gotten a few safeties down, I taught them how to flip the switch while holding it out and then explained that the feeling of it would be different. There would be more to it.

I moved to catch Louis from behind when he didn't prepare enough. He definitely got a bit cocky from the previous; it happens. I smirked as I looked down at him.

"Also a rule when shooting, don't get too cocky. It brings your guard down."

"That will be a hard one for me," he remarked and got himself up from my arms.

I snickered. "Me too."

He eyed me. "I thought so."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Get a room you two."

My eyes went wide and I shook my head. "Definitely not. Come on, do a couple more rounds and we'll get back upstairs with the others."

I created my own target and did a couple practice shots with them. A waste of ammo? Maybe. But it would be worth it, and that's why I've got other weapons and tricks up my sleeve. If they wanted to do it later, I had blanks I could give them; they just needed to get a taste of what a real bullet felt like first.

Harry was lounged on one of the couches, eating a vine of grapes. He seemed to be enjoying himself so easily. I plucked one of the grapes and popped it into my mouth. Harry looked at me with fake exasperation before he continued on. Such a goofball.

"What have you guys been up to?" I asked.

Liam raised his brows. "What? Don't have hidden cameras on us at all times?"

I furrowed my brows at his harsh tone, then laughed. "No, Liam. Speaking of, I should go check on the security room. Anyone want to come along?"

Zayn stood up from where he sat on the floor. "I will."

We walked to the small security room that was tucked away on the first floor. I sat down in the chair as Zayn stayed behind me. He was super quiet as I looked over the black and white screens, which wasn't a huge shock to me. There had to be someone in the group who wasn't rowdy all the time; though he had been pretty talkative during dinner last night.

There wasn't any suspicious activity from what I could tell. One of the bear traps had been released, though there wasn't anything in it. It was probably just a small creature or something, which kind of sucks that we lost that one.

"How you feeling, Zayn?" I spun around and looked up at him.

He raised his brows lightly with a shrug. "Could be worse. Just can't wait for the first day to be over, then hopefully the last two will go quicker."

"Time during the purge does feel incredibly long." I reached out to pat him on the arm. "But it'll be alright."

"You keep saying that."

I couldn't help a snort. "What else do you want me to say? Oh, it's gonna go terribly wrong in the last twenty-four hours and we're all gonna die? That's not exactly looking at the bright side."

"But it's realistic," he snapped back.

I rubbed my lips together and pressed them together in a firm line. I cleared my throat. "You know what? You're right. It's not realistic to look at the bright side every minute of this and, in fact, I'm not always. I'm constantly thinking of the ways I can keep you boys safe if anyone breaks in. I can assure you that your safety is my top priority."

He licked his lips, looking at the ground. "What if that's not what I want?"

"It's my job, Zayn."

"I know that." He cleared his throat. "Just... get to me last if it comes to it, okay?"

I nodded lightly. "Okay."

I knew that I couldn't actually fulfill his request. It was a first come first serve basis. Whoever is closest is who I can save first. And at the end of the day, it could turn to that so quickly.

After we met back up everyone else, Niall suggested we eat lunch. It really was only lunch time, wasn't it? This year's hours feel a lot longer than a normal purge.

Niall and Louis continued to grill me on my past. Like who taught me all my skills (my parents) and why I joined The Watchers program. And what other things I enjoyed aside from what revolved around purges. Basically what they didn't get to last night because of the nerves. It did feel more at ease right now.

I took another bite of the sandwich Niall created. "What about you guys?"

Louis scoffed in fake offense. "Did you not originally follow us when we took over the world?"

I smirked. "I mean, I did but I assumed it was all fake because of your PR team."

Niall nodded. "She's smart. I can confirm that my love of golf was never a PR stunt and I suppose I am a happy go-lucky kind of a guy."

"The sass masta from Doncasta was all for show." All the others shot him looks and he chuckled. "I'm just kidding, lads. It was real. I would say I've toned down on it a bit."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure."

"I really did have stage fright at one point after we won the X-Factor. The boys helped out a ton," Harry stated.

"You've definitely loosened up since then. I saw one of your live performances on the hologram a few years ago. It was pretty cool."

"Cheers." He helped up his glass of water, then took a sip of it.

I didn't expect all of them to spill their undying secrets to me. Not that anything they've said has been a secret persae. Zayn was spacing off with his gaze at the ground and Liam was glaring off in another direction that wasn't at me but I knew it was meant for me.

I cleared my throat. "I'm gonna go sit at my post for a bit. Feel free to keep relaxing."

"Would it be alright if I practiced more shooting?" Niall asked.

"Yeah, of course. I'll give you a couple rounds of blanks. Do not touch the real bullets unless necessary." I eyed him and he held his hands up in defense.

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds good."

My hand gripped the crossbow strap as I opened the small slot in the dining room wall that allowed me to peek out the front view of the bunker. I dragged a chair over and plopped myself down. It was so quiet out there. Not a single figure in sight. Not even an animal from what I could tell; well, there were a couple birds that flew away from the trees. It was the eeriest purge yet I had to admit.

The evening grew closer and closer as I kept my guard. My eyes were basically glued open at this point. Nothing would put me to sleep until I told myself I could relax. A hand rested on my shoulder, jolting me away from my campout.

"Niall made a hot dish if you want to eat. We're all going to try and hunker down," Louis stated.

I slid the window closed and locked it up, then cleared my throat with a nod. "Okay."

"You okay? You've been a bit tense since this morning."

"Oh yeah, just not used to nothing happening within the first twenty-four hours. Nothing to worry about."

He leaned down to kiss my cheek. "Goodnight, love."

"Night, Louis."

After I ate a little bit of the pasta casserole, I checked on all the boys before I went back downstairs to the couch. I cradled my crossbow as I laid down. I found myself staring at the smooth ceiling for a bit before my brain decided to let my eyes close.

Next part: 48 Hours

[Masterlist]

[skoog150-blog]

The Story Of Femme Feitale by Katie Skoog

Pictured above is Jessica Wu.

Source: https://www.femmefeitale.com/about-1

     I went to high school with a wonderful, motivated, and compassionate individual named Jessica Wu.  She has inspired me since the day I met her.  We have been friends throughout all of high school, and still are!  Jessica motivates me for so many reasons, but the most significant reason is her involvement in activism and social movements.  I have seen Jessica do a lot of great things for our school and our community throughout the four years I have known her, therefore I chose to interview her about her various projects.

     Before I jump into the interview, I want to take a minute to promote Jessica’s blog, https://www.femmefeitale.com/.  She is such a talented writer, and blogs about many different topics, including high school and college, anecdotal advice, politics and culture, lifestyle, and fashion!  She pretty much covers everything that I personally find very interesting.  Definitely go check her out and subscribe, she has amazing content and will continue to produce more!  The layout of the website is also very aesthetically pleasing and super easy to use.  With that being said, enjoy learning more about Jess!

     Jessica is in her first year at Harvard University and is currently undecided, although she is thinking about majoring in economics or implied math.  Jessica’s first action or movement that she got involved with as an organizer/change-maker was when our high school organized the National School Walkout during our junior year.  The National School Walkout was a walkout to honor the victims of the Parkland shooting and raise awareness for gun violence, gun reform, and gun safety.  Jessica along with a couple of other students on the student council and students who simply wanted to participate, thoughtfully organized the Walkout together.  This then sparked Jessica’s interest in organizing social movements.

     I asked Jessica what she thinks her biggest successes have been in her work thus far.  She started this project at our school called Student Voices Week where every day after school for a week there would be a student, or students, discussing a certain topic featuring a guest speaker who is an expert on that topic.  It was a student-run event that allowed students to use their own voices, express their own opinions, and educate each other on things that are happening in the world around us.  Jessica would choose topics that were current and relevant at the moment.  For example, some of them were gun violence, mental health, the opioid crisis, immigration, global warming, and so on.  This event made the students aware of serious topics and encouraged them to use their own voices to make a change.  Another event of hers was her organization of the Sadie’s Hawkins dance.  She set up the dance, decorations, and had people buy tickets for entry.  All of the money went toward a non-profit organization called She’s The First.  This organization sponsors groups of girls across the world who are the first girls in their family on track to graduate high school.  Jessica voiced her support of equal educational opportunities through her choice of this organization.  She successfully raised a lot of money for this cause because the event engaged so many students and was a lot of fun!  

     Along with many of Jessica’s successes, she has faced some disappointments and challenges along the way.  I asked her what specifically has hindered her work and she said the lack of apathy that exists is a huge issue when it comes to change-making.  Jessica also said people who are disillusioned or feel as if they do not have time to care about politics are significant negative effects in making a social movement more effective.  She also said it is hard for people who live in a privileged space to gain interest in these movements, and how they may view the work being done as fruitless.

     I asked Jessica if she is currently working on any projects and if she is collaborating with anyone on them.  She said she is apart of a club on campus called Democracy Matters.  They are currently tabling in the dining hall to recruit people for the club.  Their main goals are to find a large partisan group to elect, get ranked choice voting on ballots for Massachusetts, and create a nonelectoral partisan reform.  They are trying to get the students around them involved with politics and voting so they can use their voices to make a change in their community.

     Jessica’s advice to anyone who is starting out with organizing and does not  have any relevant experience in it is the following three tips:

It is okay to follow the movement first and see what other people are doing, get familiar with the space.

Learn about the issues and understand the foundations.  It is important to have introspection and think about why you care about certain issues. 

      3. Stick to your passions and be unafraid to go for it.

     I asked Jessica how social media affects her work.  She said it is definitely a very convenient way to spread the word about events, campaigns, or protests.  She used her blog, Femme Feitale, as an example.  She said it is her own space where she can formulate her own opinions and put them out there for the world to see.  It is also a way to incorporate her own creativity into her social media.  Jessica said that people think just reposting is enough, but it is not.  The people need to add their own input into each individual message, because then it just diminishes the value of each message.  Her last point was that there are also negative effects of social media.  She mentioned Twitter specifically and said how it is so easy to get caught up in an echo chamber and fake news.

     Jessica uses social media a lot when it comes to her change-making.  She said it is definitely a significant portion of her work and it is all very closely connected.  Jessica said it is convenient because you can get the word out so people can know about your specific event or message.  Another use for social media for Jessica is recruiting people through it to get them to come to meetings.  This way everyone can show up who wants to be involved in a movement or organization and find out about it in a quick and easy way.

     I asked Jessica what her most used social media platforms are for her change-making.  She said Instagram is definitely number one, and is best for targeting younger people.  Then she said she uses Facebook for targeting older audiences, and Snapchat for more specific audiences.  It is important to keep in mind what age group uses which social media platform, this way you can effectively target your target audience and get as much interaction as possible.

     I wondered how Jessica’s use of social media differs from her professional and personal use.  She said for her, it depends.  If she is being super political, she will post on her blog.  Although there are some things that she is willing to say that is her opinion no matter what and she will stick to it no matter what.  She personally has not been involved in anything “too official” but she did run the Instagram and Facebook for the Young Democrats of Cornwall (our hometown).

     I asked Jessica where or who she turns to for information, inspiration, and connection.  Her main driving force at the moment are her friends at Harvard.  They are constantly motivating and inspiring her to do greater things.  Her one friend Sabrina founded Hudson Valley Stands Up, which is a group of students who protest for gun reform in the Hudson Valley (which is in New York).  So ultimately, she finds her inspiration and motivation within her peers.  She said there is a lot of it to go around at Harvard.

     I wondered if Jessica’s work has really affected or influenced other areas of her life.  And the answer is: yes!  In high school when she had goals in mind, it was a broader goal of her understanding of inequality in the world.  The amount of educational inequality was very eye-opening for her.  She wondered why girls are less represented in STEM fields and why there is an educational gap between different races and income levels.  Although for her, her first semester at Harvard is more about stepping back, learning more, and understanding where her skills can create change.  She wants to focus on being a researcher, not necessarily an organizer.  She really wants to understand educational inequality so she can try her best to make positive changes within that area.

     The event that Jessica organized which made her realize she loves being a change-maker was “definitely” Sadie’s Hawkins.  She loved organizing an actual event for a cause.  Her favorite part was organizing the actual event and seeing it turn out the way it did.  She also loved seeing others who attended the event get excited to be there.  It made her feel as if all of her hard work paid off.

     Lastly, I asked Jessica about her blog, Femme Feitale.  I asked her what the main purpose of her blog is.  Jessica said the first main purpose is her use of it as a personal outlet to express her own interests.  It is really important for her personally to organize her thoughts and think about issues she normally would not think about that affect her everyday life.  She said if she does not write about them, then to her, it is simply a passing thought.  Therefore she writes these posts for introspective.  Jessica wants to promote it, and she said if people want to read it, “then that’s cool too.”

     Overall, Jessica Wu has done a lot for our school and community back in Cornwall, and she will continue to do outstanding things for and at Harvard.  I personally cannot wait to see what she comes up with (no pressure of course, Jess!).  People like Jessica are the people that are transforming our world for the better, whether that be through large or small gestures or actions.  Everything counts.  Please make sure to check out Jessica’s blog!  I will link her blog along with other resources down below.

Links/Resources:

Jessica’s blog: https://www.femmefeitale.com/about-1

Jessica’s Instagram for her blog: https://www.instagram.com/femmefeitale/

How To Become A Change-Maker: https://www.techstars.com/content/community/7-keys-become-changemaker/

[buckyhoneyno]

A Dumbasses Guide To Saving The World (Chapter 6)

Just two girls with stupid dumb luck

Read along as two girls are thrown into the supernatural world when they are mistaken for hunters and decided that they fake it till they make it.

Updating every Saturday because Saturdays are for the boys

Updating early because I just got to 1K followers and I love you all!!

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masterlist

Chapter 6 \\ You’ve Got Mail \\

Finally, after a week of checking their PO box every afternoon, a beat-up box wrapped messily wrapped in duct tape arrived. Maddie grabbed it excitedly and speed home to show Charlotte once she got off work. Normally the girls had their boss keep them on identical schedules but every once and while they got put on different shifts. Today being one of those days where Maddie had the morning shift and Charlotte with the afternoon. There wasn’t much need for a bartender at 8 in the morning.

Maddie didn’t spare a glance over her shoulder when walking to their apartment, her excitement to read the journals distracted her. If she had she would have noticed the man walking towards her.

“I love seeing you smile like that,” The girl to her credit didn’t jump when she heard the voice. Turning slowly, she saw Daren walking towards her. His hands were in his pockets as he tried to seem innocent. The smile that was on her face before melted off into a glare. Her arm still had a hand shaped bruise on it from their encounter last week, though it was now a faded yellow.

“Awe don’t tell me your still mad about what happened at Smokey’s,” He said with what she was sure he thought was a cute smile. “I apologized for that, even said sorry to Charlotte for calling her a bitch.” The way he said the last part made it seem like he definitely still thought Charlotte was a bitch. 

“Surprisingly enough yes, I’m still mad,” She stated coldly before turning away, thoroughly done with talking to the man. She had never given him an inkling of hope that she wanted to even be friends with the man, she was only nice in the beginning because they were neighbors but apparently her kindness was coming back to bite her in the ass.

“Hey, come on,” Daren leaned forward as if he was going to reach a hand towards her. Snapping around her steely gaze stopped him.

“Don’t touch me.” She practically hissed out. “What do you not get about no meaning no,” with that out she stomped away quickly and walked into the apartment. Twisting the lock quickly she leaned against the door.

“fuckin creep,” she mumbled to herself before remembering what she had in her large bag.

Walking to the kitchen she took out the package and debated whether to wait for Charlotte to get home or open it now. Her impulse won out though as she ripped into the cardboard. Flipping open the sides she reached in and pulled out 3 worn journals and a piece of paper that had messy scrawl on it. Putting the journals down she picked up the paper, squinting at the messy writing.

Girls,

These three journals are everything you need to know about the basics. Read them, memorize them and live by them. You got my number if you come across something that’s not in the books. Don’t die out there.

-      Bobby

P.S.

Id suggest investing in a couple of guns before your next big hunt maybe a bag of salt too.

If she thought about it long enough she might say that Bobby actually liked the girls.

Putting down the letter she walked to her room to take out her contacts, she had an easier time reading with her glasses. Grabbing her laptop and blanket on her way out and snagging one of the journals on the way to the couch, she settled in for a long night of reading. 

It was closer to 6 when Charlotte pulled in hours later. She was tired and covered in beer after teaching one of the new girls to tap a keg. She didn’t take directions well and ended up soaking them both before Charlotte could stop the beer from spewing out. Walking inside she threw her keys in the bowl by the door, heading straight for her room without giving the other girl in the living room much attention. She had a one-track mind at the moment and was intent on showering before she had to talk to another human being. 

Maddie barely glanced up when the other girl came in, after seeing her stormy expression she chose to wait till she resurfaced from her room to tell her the good news. The sound of the shower meets her ears as she went back to reading. Her laptop was in her lap while the book sat open next to her. She made detailed notes on her computer so that if Bobby ever asked for the journals back they wouldn’t have to worry.

Another hour passed before Charlotte came into the living room. Her eyes zeroed in on the box on the table. Stopping in her tracks she turned back to Maddie who was sitting on the couch, her glasses sat perched on her nose as she stared at a book closely.

“Are those what I think they are,” She questioned excitedly.

“Yep,” Maddie said with a large smile. “And they’re awesome,”

Charlotte let out a little squeal as she grabbed one off the table. Opening it she flipped through the pages for a moment excitedly.

“How much have you read so far?” She asked after a few more pages were turned.

“So far I’ve gotten half way through the first one. I would be done by now but I’m taking notes on them so that if Bobby ever asks for them back we can have backups,” Maddie said proud of her self.

“Nice,” Charlotte said impressed. Turning to the coffee machine she started a pot, knowing she would not be going to bed early like she had planned on her drive home.   

The next few hours were spent reading and randomly getting the others attention when they read something interesting which happened to be every five minutes for them. Finally, around 1 in the morning the girls called it quits when Charlotte happened to fall asleep on her laptop almost deleting all her work.

The next two days followed the same routine till they had each read all three books cover to cover. Day three the girls finally decided it was time to get kitted out with gear. So that next time they decided to be hunters they wouldn’t be so low on resources.

Coming back from the shopping they now had an outrageously large bag of salt, a slightly less outrageous bag of rock salt, a two pack of machetes that were on sale at home depot and a set of pretty silver throwing knives that Charlotte had decided to splurge on even though she knew it was an unnecessary purchase. If they needed more stuff then they would buy it along the way. They didn’t have to worry about extra lighters or candles being that they had a surplus of both already. Hopefully they could survive with their basic kit.

There last stop had been at a gun shop where they filed paper work to have a concealed hand gun license. They weren’t sure if Hunters followed the law but they sure as hell wouldn’t be caught with out them. It was worryingly easy to get though and they were able to purchase the guns and ammo on the spot.

Maddie’s gun had a sleek black barrel with a dark wooden handle to give it a nice accent. It looked like old and new styles were melded together to make it.

Charlottes was a bit more out there though. It was a silver with gold accents. The handle was shelled by mother of pearl styles designs that swirled prettily. It was classy while still not being to in your face. 

“I can’t say I ever thought I would be a gun owner,” Charlotte stated as she placed it in her purse with the safety on. “Oh, if my mother could see me now,” she joked with a grin. Her family were as liberal as they came. Her mother who lived back home with the rest of her family was always adamant on the need for stricter gun control. The mind set was practically drilled into the blonde her whole life. 

“Your mom, ha. My dad would probably throw a party,” On the other end of the spectrum was Maddie’s family who enjoyed their hunting and right to bear arms. Though that little fact never stopped the two family’s from getting along. It was just something they didn’t completely agree on.

“I still don’t think I will use this though,” She said with a shrug before excitedly unrolling the soft material that held her knives. “Now these I can get down with,” her smile was creepily large as Maddie gave her a look.

“Careful Char, your crazies showing,”

“Oh, fuck off,” her words held no heat as she flipped the knives around in each hand.

“One day you’ll cut your finger off with one of those,” her reply was a middle finger in the air before she turned back to her new toys.

“I think we should go to the shooting range soon, get some practice in. Maybe get you to actually learn how to take care of a gun,”

“Ill go to the range with you if you come to a boxing lesson with me,” the blond bargained with a raised brow. They stared each other down before Maddie sighed.

“Deal,”

“Ooh we also need to make a first aid kit to put in the car, you know in case we get hurt,” Charlotte said as she started putting her knives away.

“Already a step ahead of you there,” Maddie said while going to retrieve the box she had been working on. Placing it on the table in front of the other girl with a proud look on her face.

Charlotte gave it a once over and nodded. “I like that you added pretty band aids and not those generic tan ones,”

“I think I’ll just leave it in my car, since I drive us everywhere anyways,” She stated earning her a thumbs up before Charlotte grabbed Jackie’s leash off the counter.

“I’m going to take Jax’s for a walk,”

“Have fun,” Maddie called as she settled into the couch to watch some TV, content to spend the rest of their day off vegging out on the couch. She didn’t realize then but this was one of the last days she would have for a while where she didn’t have anything to worry about.

Down the street Charlotte smiled at a passing couple, for once not checking over her shoulder every 5 feet. A luxury she would soon miss after the coming weeks.

Two wanna be hunters were about to be put to the test as something evil creeped into town, right under their noses.

to be continued

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[xathia-89]

Mafia AU Part 3

Money was clearly the least of Shingen's worries. At every point during our trip out that afternoon, I doubted that I had genuinely seen anything with a price tag on it. It simply wasn't a worry to him, no amounts were ever given as he would just hand his card over without hesitation. The dress was gorgeous, and it was never anything I would even consider being graced to wear in my lifetime. It was merely out of my grasps. The shop assistants had been a little put off at first with their help, the owner then came down to make a fuss and intervened as Shingen loudly mentioned about nothing flattering me and it being a disappointment that we would be going elsewhere. The stylists had taken every effort to make me look like a suitable princess to fit in the dress with my hair and makeup. It was an entirely new world of glamour and appearances, and I didn't feel like it was the world I was destined to be in. I was openly welcomed and presented as Shingen's name naturally seem to attract the attention of everyone. It was a celebration of a new machine for the specialist hospital nearby. The money had been raised allowed for a new treatment of cancer from what I could gather, I wasn't allowed to venture far from Shingen. My arm was constantly around his, and the only exceptions I had found were when I left for the toilets (though Yukimura had been my escort across the room for my supposed safety) and when Shingen decided on a couple of occasions, it would be best to leave me with Sanada instead of dragging me into a conversation. It all resembled a ball in a fairytale. Shingen was playing the role of the prince, and I was getting enough dirty looks to remind me that I was the girl out of place. I wasn't meant for the high society like this as I was quietly stood at the edge of the room with a very grumpy looking Yukimura. Shingen had mentioned the possibility of dancing, but I hadn't even had the chance to open my mouth to ask yet, and his right arm told me that he didn't do dancing, so I simply had to watch everyone else have a good time. Then in the middle of the dancing crowd, I swore I saw my brother's face. It was a fleeting moment, but enough of expression for me that Shingen excused himself to return to my side. "I know you've seen someone you recognise princess," Takeda casually kissed the back of my hand for my attention, before sliding his arm around my waist and bringing my body flush against him. "You have a terrible poker face."

"You're using me as bait," I accused him, trying to keep my voice low as to not make a huge scene and put a lot of innocents in danger. "You've used me to drag them out to come to you on your terms, and to show me off like a trophy." My body was pressed closer to Takeda. His voice low in my ear, to anyone who didn't know, it was two lovers talking privately in public. "Do I need to remind you, princess? I can easily condemn you and them instantly if you don't keep behaving," he was warning me. I was toeing the line on my behaviour. He had all intents and purposes of sweeping me through the dance floor, glancing over for an opening to swing me into the masses so he could figure out where the enemy had placed themselves. The sound of guns being fired and glass breaking everywhere had the masses screaming, and throbbing around us. Shingen was standing firm in his position, and glaring at someone over my shoulder. I couldn't physically turn my head, Takeda was trapping me with his. I was shaking as the flashbacks were beginning from my first gunfight. The wound itself was still scarred on my shoulder, it had healed as neatly as it could, but I had insisted on straps on the dress I was wearing to cover it. The compromise had come in the form of a one-shouldered dress. I was digging my nails into Shingen's suit, desperate for the chaos to stop. The burning of my skin, the agony at packing it out and then forcing myself to act like nothing was wrong with me while I kept moving on until I was enough cities away and several days had passed that I was confident enough to attend an emergency department. I realised far too late that I was also being used as a human shield by Takeda. I heard footsteps crunching on broken glass from dropped champagne glasses, and they were approaching us. I wanted to see what was happening, but then I was faced with Masamune's shocked face coming into view as I looked over Shingen's shoulder. I could only make the assumption that Nobunaga was the one in the opposite direction. The men all stopped at a nod from Date, silently confirming something. I was struggling to keep breathing. I wanted to break free from Takeda's hold and escape the situation, but I could feel all the muscle under his well-tailored suit. His grip on me was firm, and my feet were burning slightly from standing still in such high heels as I started to rock my weight in an attempt to alleviate the feeling. "I thought you were more honourable than this Shingen, but I stand corrected," Nobunaga confirmed his presence verbally to me. "It's a coward's move to uncover a woman who wants to stay hidden and force her to attend to get your own pleasures. I knew where she was, I have ears everywhere, but then you seemed to get someone to turn on me to get that information." "It meant I got you crawling out of the works, Oda," Shingen was tensing up, his arms prepared to throw me somewhere possibly. "Though I'm surprised you haven't brought the puppy with you, I thought he would be desperate to catch a glimpse of her." His laugh gave away the part that he didn't believe we were siblings. Most people didn't, brown hair and brown eyes were the only things we had in common with our appearances. "I think they've been lying to you all along Nobunaga, I think they're secretly married, but they like to play with everyone. Though she's a great bed warmer, so supple and divine." I froze up and blushed bright red before I was tossed aside. I landed ungracefully and sprawled over the dance floor, but before I could do anything, Yukimura had hold of me and was dragging me away from the chaos of gunfights. I was being used as a human protector, the theory being that they wouldn't shoot at us for fear of hurting me again. As soon as the backup arrived, I was ushered straight into a waiting car before someone knocked me out to ensure I wouldn't make a scene. Shingen was looking concerned as I opened my eyes. My head was pounding as the slightest expression of relief was replaced with a hardened mask. Then Sasuke was shining a torch in my eyes before I could swat him away. I slowly sat up with the help of Sasuke, who now had the torch tucked behind his ear. I was blinking the room into focus, looking at the floor first as I realised that I wasn't in my 'room' and then looked up to see the massive flat screen TV dominating the room, and playing newsreels about an attack on Takeda and the mystery woman on his arm. It was all trash level celebrity news, but Shingen seemed to have them eating out of his hand. Then a clip of the red-headed male, saying that he and 'his fiancée' were perfectly safe, just shaken for their troubles and he would appreciate it if we were given some space. "Fiancée?" were the only words I could croak out, and soak up in the middle of my headache. "Of course," Shingen then gestured to my left hand. A flawless diamond was the centrepiece of two twisted bands, a platinum metal and tiny diamonds decorating one of the bands. It was pretty and highly expensive, I could already tell that from the way that the jewels were catching the light. "It looked like something that would sit well with you," he shrugged casually, but it was clear that he had put at least the smallest amount of thought into it suiting me. "It means you have to start appearing with me at these events, and that you can't just walk away now." His smile was calculating. I had tried leaving everyone behind, to live a normal life. Escape from the whole state of being told what to do and how to live, and have the constant breath of not being caught for fear of the police. Then this man had taken it upon himself to drag me back out of my hiding hole for his own gains, and enticing my brother's emotions. The only way that Shingen was going to stop was when Nobunaga was in jail, and all of his 'generals' were working for him or with Oda. He was playing a dirty game, and I was the bait for the trap that had now been set. Now, I was in the middle of a web that I never had a hope of escaping. Yukimura disturbed me, tapping me on the shoulder once Sasuke had completed his checks to ensure no concussion I assumed. I was quickly losing the will to fight everything, and in a slight state of shock as well at learning such big news. I was still in the previous night's make-up as I was left alone again in my room. It was my priority to get that off and showered before maybe looking through Netflix for a series to binge watch in bed. Shingen was ready to blow the door off. He had been buzzing the intercom for ten minutes to get Natsuki's attention as he forcefully unlocked the door. She had her chances, she had never responded in such a childlike manner before, but the man was going to make sure it never happened again. The scene before him was nothing like what he expected. The woman was fast asleep, headphones on and her laptop playing a movie of sorts as he slowed and softened his footsteps. Now that he was close up, the strain of the past ten days were showing on the female. Her skin was pale, and the bags under her eyes were more like suitcases while she was clutching at a stuffed teddy bear while deep in her sleep. She was exhausted and had nowhere to go as sympathy began to creep in. Natsuki was just a pawn, a means to an end. He forgot that she was a person too as he stroked her cheek gently. The wound on her

shoulder was still a mess as he looked at the dropped strap of her top, she had insisted that something covered it when the dresses were brought out during the shopping trip. He trailed a finger over the rough skin before Natsuki squirmed a little in her sleep. Takeda paused, before taking her headphones off and moving the laptop so she wouldn't roll onto it or push it off the bed. He had been coming down to tell her to do her job as his PA, and organise various things, but she needed the rest. Just today, that was all he was promising to himself was that he would give her before closing the door in time for Kenshin to come storming down the corridor. "She's asleep," Shingen stated. "That's never stopped you doing things before," Uesugi scoffed and narrowed his eyes at his associate. "You're getting soft in your old age," he accused the man. "Maybe so, but if it means she warms to me, and then it'll be easier instead of fighting her constantly," the redhead shrugged before walking back towards the living quarters. I was 'allowed' out every couple of days. Mostly to accompany Shingen on a lunch date where the press would definitely find us now of the most well-known playboys was officially off the market. I was the centre of the trash tabloids, wanting to know how I had done it effectively. So many cafés and restaurants had been employed to keep them away, but servers would freely talk once we had left. My name was given out pretty quickly, but it was never a surname at least. I was being used to convince clients to sign deals with Shingen's firm now as well, which left me with a slimy residue. It made him look more reliable to the business world. He was able to manage a personal relationship to the extent of an upcoming wedding. I had to be spotted doing the usual preparations of course. Coming out of bridal shops, with Yukimura or Kenshin as 'bodyguards', speaking to suppliers, private booked sessions to taste cakes and sample food. We were even looking at where to hold it. I was still trying to get my head around this. I was getting married, because someone else had decided it, and it was all because my brother had decided to get involved in gang activities. I had never felt so much like a puppet on strings until one night as Shingen handed me yet more brochures on where to get married. I glared in response, but he raised his eyebrow. Reminding me of his original promise of outing me to the police before I retreated back to my room to flick through them. My only saving grace was that I had no budget, and I was getting determined to try to break Shingen on how much money I was planning on spending for this sham. I was shown to the living room one evening by Sasuke and noticed that Kenshin was suspiciously absent, while Yukimura and Shingen were both dressed incredibly casually and sprawled out on the sofa in various positions while yelling at the TV. I was surprised to find that they were battling as NHL teams on the screen, and Shingen was immediately distracted by my presence, allowing Sanada to take the game victory. "Kenshin decided he had work to do, so we needed another player," Sasuke said, looking a little embarrassed. "And I remembered that when you didn't understand something during tutoring, we'd play games like this to get formations into your head so you'd remember the equations." "Sure," I weakly smiled, feeling very exposed as Takeda handed me a controller with a wink, and I sat next to him. "Seriously?" Yukimura was glaring at his friend as I shot past their goalkeeper for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. I was now sat comfortably on the floor, and the pizza had been ordered while I kept out of their alcohol cabinet, though Shingen appeared pleasantly buzzed on the sake as he knew I could take the others on by myself. "You said she was good, not that she would obliterate us," he scowled. "Stop being a sore loser Yuki," Takeda teased, prodding his underling as a brother would. "And appreciate the fact that we don't have to skip out on gaming time if Kenshin disappears again." A cough at the door brought a violent shiver up my spine, as the three men turned their attention to the addition. I kept my head down and my gaze away from it all as I heard Shingen move. "What is she doing out?" Uesugi was pissed by the sounds of things. "You skipped out on games night, so we substituted you," Takeda was smooth as always. "No one's let her out of sight all night." The heterochromatic made a noise of disgust, and my chin was roughly grabbed as he forced my head up. The sudden move had surprised me, and I was trembling under the intensity of his gaze. The man was terrifying me, I wasn't sure if I was even going to be let go and live in the moment. He scoffed and dropped my chin as though I was a piece of dirt. All I could do was scramble around and 'escape' from the domineering male, dashing in a flash to get some comfort from my bed in my room. My eyes squeezed shut as I curled up under the blankets, desperate to block the world out.

[mysticmysterywrites-blog]

Prompt #7

I want to do an apocalypse like setting with these three characters that I have. They're in a relationship with eachother, and have stopped at one of those middle of nowhere towns that just kind of exist?? Probably the only sign that the apocalypse hit being that theres no one around anymore and shit.

The first character is Amara. She's probably the most dangerous of the three, and is the type to shoot a bitch without hesitation. She has a soft spot for her partners and children, but other than that is willing to crack someone over the head and leave them to die. She isn't described in roleplay, but she's about 5'10, with long braided black hair and tanned skin. She has brown eyes.

Ko is the second character, and he is described in prompt. He's like the least dangerous of the three. He LOOKS threatening, but he doesn't know how to use like any weapons and basically acts as their doctor (Which, you know. He was studying to be one before everything went to hell land)

Asa (it's a nickname) is the final character. He uses a sword instead of a gun, which he defends on the basis of it being easier to kill zombies with. A lot more silent, and he normally isn't TRYING to hurt PEOPLE with it so it's all fine. That said, Amara is the one doing most of the fighting out of the three. He's the best smooth talker of the group though, and when it comes to dealing with people is most likely the one they'll turn to.

I imagine at this point in the roleplay, the apocalypse has been going on for about 3-4 or so years so far? Like, enough that the dust has startled to settle but still to the point where things are a bit panicked. These three have all been traveling together for about 6 months now, and Amara and Asa were traveling together for about a year before that. They do have an end goal to where they want to go, but your character will need to dig that out of them.

As for your character, they can be anyone! Someone that's been making this walmart their home and doesn't appreciate the people coming by? Someone who needs the medicine more than they do at the moment? Just someone on a supply run of their own?? Maybe someone younger then the bunch of them, and think's they're far tougher shit then they really are?? Possibilities are endless.

I'm willing to let this get Nsfw, but only if you and your character are 18+. But I do want this to be a slow burn kinda rp. If the plot takes us there, then it may happen. That said, you don't have to match this! I'm kind of cheating with the length by having like.. three characters. Just reply to your comfort, and I'll try and match! We'll be gucci.

Amara was not the type to trust easily.

It was just how it was in this bitch of a world. The more people you trusted, the more likely you were to get hurt. Or something obnoxiously sentimental like that. She'd learned that lesson time and time over, each and every time she'd placed herself in a group having been stabbed in the back. At one point /literally./ She knew better than to trust, knew better than to rely on others for her own safety.

...That said.

Even she had her soft spots. They were rare, and took time to grow. But they existed, and even she was willing to admit they were there. Her soft spots can in her two companions.

"Nah, nah you aint hearin' me out," Her first companion would laugh, somehow managing to walk backwards and bounce over every obstacle in his path. He was a small man, with a mohawk that had long ago begun to over grow (She'd need to talk Ko into cutting it for him. She'd offer to do it herself, but she'd always been a bit bad at that) bright blue eyes, and pale skin, "If we got horses instead of a car, we'd never have to worry about running out of gas. Maybe we'd have to worry about like.. Where we could store stuff. But we could totally go like-- You know those carts people would have on the back of their horses? Like.. The fuckin' Oregon trail games, that shit!"

"..Wagons?" She added, helpfully at that.

"Yeah! We could have wagons!! Could you 'magine tryin' ta shoot walkers in one of them badboys?" Asa raised his eyebrows, gaze more on the man next to her then herself. The man next to her- Ko. He was a sharp contrast to the sight of the other man. Tall, dark skin. Scars that seemed to dance and curl on his skin, and dreadlockes he'd managed to pull up in a style that she'd never be able to replicate behind him. He really was pretty, and whispers between herself and Asa had deemed that he probably couldn't hurt a fly if he'd wanted to.

Ko snorted, his arm moving around her waist. She could feel the hesitation in his motions, as if he was silently asking her "..Hey, is this alright to do?" To which she leaned in closer. Her own hand rubbing up and down his spine, fingers all but dancing on his skin. He was still so nervous about attention. And she really did understand, but.. She'd just sigh, allowing him a chance to ease himself into it.

Asa, on the other hand.. "You just want an excuse to have horses around," She reached over to smack his arm, needing to slip out of Ko's grip to do so. He stuck his tongue out at her in response.

"Fuck yeah I do. Horses are awesome," He shrugged

"Air conditioning," Ko said simply, as if that would debate all the point's that Asa was shooting out at them.

"We have generators! And fans!! It's basically the same thing!" It wasn't, and by the way Asa paused and deflated, he knew it wasn't as well, "Okay then. A farm. I want a farm. We gotta have a farm! I miss meat..."

She'd sigh, "If we can find horses, we'll consider- and I mean it when I say consider! taking them along," a stupid thing to agree to, but it at least got him to stop on it for a bit. And it did.

"Alright," She looked around the walmart. It was one of those kind of walmarts where she was sure that, back in the day when things were up and running it must have gone around and bought out every other grocery store in the middle of nowhere town, and had at the time had a balls out monopoly on the place. However, now that like 80% of America had succumbed to the disease that was zombiefication, it was just a flat out gold mine of possible things that they could find, "Ko, darling, can you go try and take care of food and medicine,"

"Mm.. what else would I be getting?" He tried to sound like he was complaining, but it sounded half assed and accepting of his roll among them.

"Know the most go get the most," She paused, "We can probably stop by the towns hospital before we leave if there's nothing left here, but mm.. Judging by the looks of this place, we'll probably be fine," She shrugged, sliding a cart her partner's way, "Asa, Can you go see if you can find batteries and lightbulbs and shit? And maybe bullets and other kinda weapons. You tend to be good at sniffing that kinda shit out."

He scoffed, "Good at sniffing them out? It's a talent doll!" He bounced in his spot, moving to grab a cart of his own, "I'll meet you in the medicine isle!" And just like that, he was off.

"Remember to pick up any seed packets you find! AND- Maybe. Another. Map.. He didn't hear me, alright..." She called out, before turning her attention to Ko again, "...I'm gonna go try finding us some entertainment. I don't know about you two, but I'm getting kind of bored with checkers and monopoly. Cards against humanity can stay, but it's on thin fucking ice," A groan of agreement was his acknowledgment, but it was one that hid amusement behind it's tone, "Be careful, yeah?"

"I'm the one you're telling that to?" He asked, eyebrow raised and a laugh on his voice. But as soon as he noticed the look she was giving him, he'd nod, ".. I will. I have my gun on me," He reassured, and for a second was okay with splitting up like this.

She'd taken her time strolling up and down the isles, occasionally picking shit off the shelves. There were a few boardgames she'd never heard of, some that she had heard of but had over played so much in her child hood that she'd just gotten board of them. And- Shit, was that pokemon?? She'd been looking for those games since this stupid apocalypse had begun. Should probably grab some nintendo's to go with it... She snatched what remained of the sorry game isle, popping the objects in her cart.

By the time she'd finished going through the isles, her cart had been at least half full, various hand held's and board games sloppily piled around her. Which wasn't a bad thing. It would, at the very least, give them something to do while they traveled. But they did only have so much room in their van. Hmm.. Maybe this would call for some reorganization in the back?

As promised, she'd made her way back to the medicine isle, flipping through the pages of one of the book's she'd picked up with a sort of half paying attention look to her, the other part of her trying to think of ways they could reorganize their van. While it WAS a pretty big van, it kept basically everything they owned in there. Maybe it was time to invest their time in trying to find a trailer and a truck?? Her smile twitched up as she even considered the idea of using the horses and carriages like Asa had suggested. She loved the guy, but god. They'd been doing pretty good at finding fuel so far, why would that be a worry now?

Besides, wouldn't they find SOMEWHERE safe before that became an issue?

Shaking her head, she rounded the corner she'd heard them talking from.. hell, the other end of the store, "I picked up some of these shitty smut novels. You know the kind. Oh Johnson take me /now!/ Kinda novel. And, like, How do you guys feel about DnD? I use to GM for my group before- Uh..." Slowly. Carefully. She put the book back down into the cart (On top of a few of the notebooks she'd managed to find. Another score). The scene registered rather quickly in her head. A person, someone she didn't know. Knife in their hand, pointed at her partners. The person looked like a startled deer, like the hadn't expected her to pop around the corner. Asa had his sword out, placing himself between the person and Ko, but lord. Did she not like how close they were to the two of them.

Her stomach sank, and her body reacted before she fully registered the scene, and she found herself with a gun in her hand before she could tell them to move, "You," Her tone was calm, but the kind of calm that held nothing but a storm behind it, "Need to lower your knife, and step away from the both of them. I will not hesitate to shoot you, and take everything you currently own."