iluvroadrunner6 | prompts { 2022 } fictober

Stefan and Damon leave Xhorhas together, side by side, intending to deal with the unknown in the same way. No matter who enters their party, who they work with, or what circumstances force the party apart, it is always the two of them. Until the moment that it isn’t.

They save the world, but Damon dies. Stefan doesn’t know why it’s worth it to save a world his brother couldn’t be in.

Rebekah is there, though, and that is a relief. If he lost both of them, he probably would have lost his mind. She sits with him for weeks as he goes through the motions, pieces himself back together and comes out the other side. A couple of months on a beach in Nicodranas, and he’s finally feeling like himself again.

And he wakes one morning to Rebekah packing her things, and he scrambles up, trying to catch up with her. “Where are we going?”

She looks up at him, regret on her features, before taking a deep breath. “I am going to Shady Creek Run, to see my sister. She sent me a message saying that she wants to see me. But I’m probably going to stay there, I think.”

“You’re going. But I’m not going?” Stefan pauses, brow furrowing as he tries to process the meaning of that statement, and the more he connects the dots, the more his stomach drops. “You’re leaving me?”

“Not … not the way you think.” She pushes up, coming over to rest her hands on his shoulders. “I love you, Stefan. But I am done with adventuring. I want a life and a family of my own. I want … more.”

“I thought we both wanted those things.”

“We did. When Damon was alive.” She slides her hands down his arms to take his hands. “I know how awful losing a sibling can be, and I am certainly sympathetic. But I also don’t want you to come with me out of necessity, clinging to me because I’m the only thing you have left. I want you to choose me because the life I want is the life you want, and the life you’re ready for.”

A heavy weight settles into his palm, and she curls his finger over it. “Keep this end of the sending stones. That way, you’ll always be able to reach me. But … take the time. To make sure this is really what you want.”

“And my telling you it’s what I want isn’t good enough?” He’s angry. Angry that he’s being abandoned, angry that the people in his life are just moving on, angry about all of it. It’s the first genuine feeling he’s felt since Damon died and while part of him is grateful for it, the last person he thought he’d be feeling it for is her.

“Just…be sure.” She takes a step back and offers him a small smile. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

The door closes behind her, and part of him just wants to chuck the sending stone she gave him into the ocean. Since the ocean isn’t available at the moment, he’ll settle for chucking it into the wall instead.

* * * * *

Three days later, he sits on the beach outside of the Lavish Chateau, drunk and staring out at the waves in the sunlight. The beach is populated with people all going about their happy lives, and he wants to scream or possibly get another drink. But since he is no longer welcome at the Lavish Chateau for causing a ruckus during one of the Ruby of the Sea’s performances, he'll have to make due with the beach.

It’s probably for the best.

The sand curls between his toes and he doesn’t look up as two bodies sit on either side of him. He doesn’t look at them, just keeps his eyes straight ahead at the waves. “Fuck off, or regret it later.”

“Nice to see you too, Salvatore.”

He blinks at the familiar voice, before glancing over and seeing Neal and Mozzie, one on each side of him. His mouth works open once, twice, before finally spitting out the only genuine option. “How the hell did you find me?”

“Would you believe random coincidence and fate intervening on our behalf?” Mozzie asks, and Stefan’s eyes narrow.

“You did a scrying spell.”

“I did a scrying spell. You were easy to find. Didn’t resist at all.”

“I’ve been drunk a lot lately. Haven’t had a lot of reasons to care.”

Neal’s face softens for a moment, before placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder gently. “We heard about Damon. I’m sorry.”

“Everybody’s sorry.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t think you did a scrying spell and came all the way to Nicodranas just to offer your condolences. What do you want?”

Neal and Mozzie glances at each other, and Mozzie fishes a scroll out of his cleric’s robes. “We have a job we need your help with.”

Stefan unfurls the scroll, but the diagrams and sigils are already spinning, so he closes it again. “I’m not sober enough for this. Can I get back to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Neal claps a hand on his shoulder. “We can meet for breakfast tomorrow? The Lavish Chateau?”

Stefan makes a face. “That might not work. They just banned me from the Lavish Chateau.”

Neal frowns. “Where are you staying?”

“Kind of up in the air at the moment.”

Neal nods again, slowly. “Right. Let’s find you a bed and figure out the rest in the morning.”

Probably the best for everyone. Didn’t turn out being great for Neal’s shoes though. That’s definitely going to come out of his end of the cut.

* * * * *

Stefan comes down for breakfast the next morning and places the plans down in front of Mozzie and Neal. “This is a four person job. Who’s the fourth person?”

“You are,” Neal replies.

“Okay, who’s the third person?”

“Still you,” Mozzie points out. “You count for two.”

Stefan’s hand comes up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know that’s not how my abilities work, right? It’s not like I can duplicate myself into a fully functioning person.”

“It’s good enough.” Neal holds out a mug to him. “Coffee?”

Stefan takes it with a grumble, before sliding onto the bench across from them. “Why are we doing this, exactly?”

Neal clasps his hands in front of him. “Mozz and I are working on this long con. A big one. But in order to do that, we have to break into Rexxentrum and act like we belong there, which means we need …”

“Wealth. Not just gold, but actual power.” Stefan makes a face. “Rexxentrum? Really? You want to fuck around with the Assembly?”

“It’s a long story.” Neal looks at him earnestly. “So are you in?”

Stefan looks down at the plans, and drums his fingers against the table. Despite being a drunken mess, he has been thinking about what Rebekah said. He needs to find out whether he wants to still be in the game, or if he’s ready to be done, for good. And the best way to do that is with people he already (semi-)trusts.

“I’m in.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Just this one job, though.”

Neal grins and nods. “Deal.”

* * * * *

It isn’t just one job. In fact, it’s more like one job that spirals into many jobs all towards whatever Neal and Mozzie’s end goal is. If nothing else, the experience is fun—Neal and Mozzie always seem to know how to have fun—but it’s also not the same. There’s an emptiness to it and he can’t say he likes it. Maybe that’s the thing Rebekah tried to tell him to find. Once you save the world, it’s kind of hard to keep doing the same thing.

He never stops picking up her calls, however. He takes some time to start making them himself, but whenever the sending stone activates, unless the three of them are under duress, he always answers. In so many ways, it’s a relief to hear her voice again, and remind him that there’s something out there he should still reach for.

“So how’s the house?” He asks one night as he lays back in his bed at the tavern. Neal and Mozzie are sharing the room next door, but the walls are thin enough he has zero doubt they’re eavesdropping.

“Making progress,” she sighs. “Freya is helping, if by helping you mean using druid craft to tie off the corners of things. It’s likely not up to code and I’ll have to fix it all later, but it’s a start.”

He laughs. “Is that a pro or a con for the state of your sister?”

“Hard to say. When you spend most of your days alone in the woods and the only time you ever see people is when they want something from you, it certainly weathers your social skills. Finn is a lovely fire spirit, but he doesn’t exactly talk back.”

“At least she has you now.”

“Yes, she does. And her old adventuring friend, that teleports in from time to time.” There’s a pause. “You should come see the house.”

He knows the reason for that statement. It’s feeling out where he is on this journey of self-discovery, and he doesn’t want to get her hopes up, even though part of him feels like he already decided. “I will. Let me just get through this job first. Maybe I’ll convince Neal and Mozz to have us swing your way.”

“Mmmm. Don’t let those two idiots get you killed. It would be a real shame for you to have saved the world, only to die taking a blade for Neal Caffrey.”

“I won’t.” He pauses as he goes to set the stone on the dresser next to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

* * * * *

“Alright. I think I’m out.”

Neal and Mozzie look up from their take on the last job, eyes widening at him in surprise. Mozzie frowns. “I thought you were coming with us to Rexxentrum.”

“I was,” Stefan admits. “But now I don’t think I will.”

Neal looks down at the take. “You don’t want your whole third, do you?”

Stefan laughs, before shaking his head. “Tell you what. Trade me one magical artifact that I can fence for enough to buy and fix up a tavern with and do a scrying spell for me and we’ll call it even.”

“Really?” Mozzie frowns. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Why so generous?”

“Because one, the more I have on me, the more likely I am to get caught by whoever might still come after you.” Stefan points out. “And two … you’re going to need that money more than I do. I have enough that I can get by until I get the bar running.”

Mozzie nods. “You know you could just ask her where she is, don’t you?”

“I could,” he nods. “But where’s the fun in that?”

* * * * *

He pawns the item, a scepter with a delicate red ruby and a diamond lined handle—Neal always had expensive taste—on his way out of Zadash, and uses some of the profit to buy himself a horse to carry him the rest of the way to Shady Creek Run. He names the horse Damon, because Damon would have hated it, and spends most of the journey planning what he's going to say when he gets there. The days of travel are odd to face alone, having become accustomed to the ramble of Neal and Mozzie nearby day in and day out, but in other ways it’s refreshing. Satisfying in a way that tells him he’s on the right path.

When he finally arrives at the front door of the house, he lets himself down off the horse and takes a breath. For the first time in a long time, this place he’s arrived at feels like home. He makes his way up and knocks on the front door.

Only to have it fall over into the main hallway.

“Damnit!” Rebekah swears from somewhere in the house, followed by the stomping of her feet. “I spent hours putting that—” Her voice cuts off when she sees him, before the stern expression on her face melts into a wide smile. “Stefan?”

“I’ll fix it. Promise.”

She runs at him, and he’s able to catch her easily, winding his arms around her waist and pulling her close. “You’re here! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.” He pulls back to look at her, reaching up to tuck some of her blond hair behind her ear. “And like you said, I wanted to make sure I was ready. You were right. I needed some space to let it all go.”

“Should I be thanking Neal and Mozzie or be concerned for them?”

“Oh, definitely be concerned,” he nods. “Whatever it is they’re up to, I’m pretty sure it’s going to get them killed unless they’re very, very lucky.”

“Well. When the inevitable damage crashes down on our doorstep, at least we will have a doorstep for it to crash on.” She turns and looks at the door lying in the entryway. “Once we fix it up, at least.”

“Yep. I also might have bought a bar on the way into town.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Damon always wanted a bar. I figured it would be a nicer way to honor him than just naming the horse after him.”

Rebekah laughs. “Well, he really is a handsome animal. It’s not as though we could have named it anything else.”

“Exactly what I thought.” Stefan grins. “But hopefully you have room for me?”

“I do,” she nods. “If you’re going to stay.”

“I am,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her again. “I choose you. Always.”

Rebekah smiles into the kiss, keeping him close. When the kiss finally parts, they both turn and see Freya, hands clasped together as she watches them. “Does this mean I get to help plan the wedding?”

Stefan looks down at Rebekah, and she laughs. “One thing at a time, Freya. We’ve got to get this house ready first. Then we’ll worry about a wedding.”

He smiles, and that last bit of weight slips off his shoulders. It feels good to be finally home.

Edited 2022-10-01 16:19 (UTC)

I loved this so much, everything about it was fun and good and is now my accepted canon. Rebekah wanting out first, Stefan being so lost in grief he doesn't know what he wants. His adventures with Neal and Mozzie. Freya helping with the house. The reunion. Freya being in the background excited for a wedding. The horse named Damon. All of it is so good I love it. Thank you.

(no subject)

iluvroadrunner6 - 2022-10-01 18:50 (UTC) - Expand

Freya assumes she’ll never see Peter Hale again.

The crew from Pearson Spector comes in often, and after the time they attempt to slip Peter the House Special, he doesn’t come with them. It’s highly possible he’s interested in a better class of friends, a better class of establishment, et cetera, but there’s something about it Freya finds slightly disappointing. She’s always interested in making new friends, and everyone is abuzz about the new pack in town.

Not that Laura Hale has been here or alpha-ing long, but Hales are Hales. Everyone with any kind of clout is clamoring to do her a favor. The sooner you can get her in your debt, the sooner you have a piece of leverage over everyone else. Now Freya, specifically, isn’t after a favor. It’s always best to test the waters, see what to make of the new packs in the area and how they feel about witches—Mikaelson witches specifically. But sometimes, a little leverage didn’t hurt either.

Just because she’s friendly doesn’t mean she lacks ambition.

Still, the assumption has her recalculating her approach, wondering if it might be worth it to send in one of the younger Mikaelsons. Find out where the youngest of the Hales is attending school and if she is amenable to friends. She’s flexible with her options. But before she can put any of those options into action, the door to her bar swings open, and in comes the man in question.

Her head tips to the side curiously, pausing in her wiping down of the bar to study him. “Well. Isn’t this a surprise?”

Peter raises an eyebrow as he moves closer, taking an empty spot at the bar. Most of the spots are empty aside from a few nocturnal cryptids who like to patronize the place, usually with varying flavors of fae. “Not expecting to see me again?”

“Your lawyer friends have been back, but you haven’t.” Freya shrugs. “I thought it might be a sign.”

“Mmmm. I think your wrong assumption there was that those people were my friends. That is not the case.”

“Ah. My mistake.” She offers him the menu from the stand. “In that case, what’s your poison?”

“Not going to offer me the House Special?”

“I think you and I both know that I’m not in the habit of coercing my customers into something they don’t want.”

She likes to think she proved that to him the last time they met, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing here now. Her head tips to the side as she takes him in again, letting the distractions of his appearance be just that, distractions, and focus on seeing past them. As much as his suit is immaculate, his demeanor calm, she’s picking up the cracks in the picture.

His tie is slightly askew. She doesn’t have to be a werewolf to hear the way his heel drums ever so softly against the wooden floor of the bar. The way his thumb currently worries over one knuckle. She doesn’t know him well, but she’s observed enough people to pick up a few ticks, here and there.

“Unless you do want the House Special?”

Peter glances back over his shoulder before leaning in closer, dropping his voice. “I’ve never been that way before.” Admitting weakness to someone is difficult for him. She can tell from the tension in his voice. “But—tonight is a night where I find myself in need of getting out of my head, and I’m out of options.”

Freya eyes him quietly before glancing out at the rest of the bar. “And you’re coming to me?”

“I’m hoping that I can trust you.” He doesn’t sound like he can. Peter Hale certainly doesn’t seem like a man who trusts easily. But he’s mostly trusting her not to take advantage of him while he’s drunk—not with the life of his firstborn.

“Elijah? Can you take over for a bit?” Her brother nods, and she grabs two glasses and one of the enchanted bottles of whiskey from behind the bar. Then she turns to Peter with a nod. “Follow me.”

Peter hesitates, glancing around to the rest of the bar, before nodding and following. They don’t head towards the Mikaelson apartments, but head to the roof of the bar, where the wind and sounds of the city whip around them. There are two lawn chairs stretched out in a sheltered portion of the roof, with a small table for the drinks.

“Have a seat.” She gestures to one of them and goes to pour them the first two shots. “I’m not normally a whiskey girl, but the spell ruins the taste of tequila.”

Peter snorts. “I wasn’t aware magic had a flavor profile.”

“It does. When you’re sensitive enough to notice.” She pushes the glass out to the side once it’s full. “Sip it slowly, not too much too fast. That’s everyone’s first mistake, and then you’ll be in real trouble.”

“How does it work?” he asks, studying the amber liquid carefully.

“Blah blah magic blah blah enchantment.” She gives a small shrug. “Honestly, it’s not my recipe. But according to my brother Kol, it essentially forces your body to metabolize it like a normal human would. This allows the alcohol to perform all the normal reactions.”

Peter nods, before taking a slow sip as instructed. He licks his lips, before shrugging as he stretches back on the lounge chair. “Nice flavor.”

“Thank you.” Freya sighs as she takes her own sip. “You know, I really am surprised you came back. Nobody warned you about me?”

Peter smirks. “That’s usually my line.” He shakes his head. “But no. No one did. Mostly because I don’t think anyone thought I would actually be in your company, and I didn’t ask.”

“Mikaelson tell you all you needed to know?”

“No. Though it raised a few eyebrows.” He takes another sip, and his posture is already relaxing. “But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make friends in extreme places.”

“Another thing we have in common,” she admits with a smirk. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

“Friends,” he nods slowly. “I can do friends.”

Friends it is. They pour another couple rounds, and Peter seems much looser, so she has to ask. “I am curious. What brought you to my doorstep tonight?”

His head tips back, staring up at the stars. “Today’s the anniversary of my sister’s death. And it’s my fault.”

Freya raises an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, or your niece wouldn’t be the alpha.” She knows how werewolves work.

He shakes his head, and the words keep tumbling, almost as though he can’t stop them. Alcohol will do that. “I didn’t kill her. But I might as well have. I trusted the wrong person, and she was the one who killed her.”

Freya’s face sobers, and she pours him another glass. She knows all too well the pain of trusting the wrong people and the things it could cost you. She’s not sure she’s right to be trusted with this, but she can’t unknow it now. Might as well prove that his drunken ramblings are not in the wrong hands.

After they finish the last glass, she stands and offers him her hands to pull him up. “Come. We should get you in a cab.”

He shakes his head but takes her hands anyway, using her as a counterweight. “No. Can’t go home like this.”

This is normally where she would have told most people that like the song, they don’t have to go home, but they can’t stay here. But as Peter stumbles closer to her, she can’t quite bring herself to kick him out into the cold. She licks her lips. “Peter—”

“I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t. You barely know me.”

“That goes both ways.” She takes a deep breath, letting it out in a long sigh. “Alright. But you’re gone in the morning, understand? And if any of my siblings catch you, you came early for witch business.”

“Understood.” He gives her a small, drunken salute, and she shakes her head before sneaking him down to her rooms. She deposits him gently on the couch before escaping to clean up, and by the time she returns with the glasses and whiskey, Peter is asleep, relaxed and peaceful and she feels a stirring of something she hasn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, Freya,” she murmurs to herself as she closes the door behind her. “You’re in so much trouble.”

Feelings are certainly not the leverage she had in mind, but unfortunately for her, the heart wants what the heart wants.

Edited 2022-10-02 15:36 (UTC)

Kady’s always been a line-in-the-sand kind of girl. Things either are or they aren’t. Yes or no. Black or white. No shades of gray or in-between because she spent too much of her life growing up waiting on promises and wishes that would never come true. Her mother would never quite break away from trying to wrangle the glimpses of magic within her from charlatans on the street. Kady spends too much of her childhood giving Hannah enough rope to hang herself with that she doesn’t have any rope left to give.

So, when one of those lines she’s drawn walks into the Dry County one night, the usually consummate professional loses her cool, just slightly. Her voice breaks on one of her signature high notes, choking in a way that’s embarrassing. Most of the patrons don’t care. They’re there for an excessive amount of alcohol, not a masterful musical performance, and are more interested in fucking her than caring about her perfect pitch.

But Diego and Stefan, they know better. They turn to look, and probably don’t know how to make sense of what they’re seeing. Why this small, dark-haired woman who looks, for all intents and purposes, like she wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly would send her into a tailspin, and she doesn’t want to give them a chance to linger too long on it. Instead, she finishes out the song, and says that they’re going to take a break, practically fleeing from the stage to the back door where Julia waits.

She can’t remember how long it’s been—four years? Maybe five? Measuring the time only leads to spirals and guilt of things she couldn’t fix and looking for an oblivion that Stefan did his best to save her from. She intentionally tries not to go around ruining his good work. But seeing Julia again—she looks the same, but not at the same time. Both familiar and stranger and Kady’s heart aches for the gulf between them, even though she’s the one who put it there.

“How did you find me?”

“Hi, Jules. It’s been a long time. So good to see you. I’m glad you’re not dead.” Julia gives her a look and Kady rolls her eyes.

“Fuck off.”

“No, I’m serious. That’s the first thing you say to me after five years?”

So it is five. Kady makes a note of that. “I think it’s a pretty valid question, considering I told you I was done.”

“And I could have just stumbled across you doing your thing because I was passing through Shady Creek Run.”

Kady squints at her. “No one just passes through Shady Creek Run. And the look on your face says this isn’t an accident.”

Julia flinches, and Kady’s stomach twists with regret. It’s been five years. She shouldn’t still be this angry, but it’s the one thing she’s never quite been able to shake. Kady takes a breath, stalking away briefly before coming back again. Deep breath, starting over from the top.

“Just—what are you doing here, Julia?”

“I wanted to see you isn’t a good enough answer?”

“Not really, no.”

Julia nods slowly, before taking a breath and straightening her shoulders again. “I asked a wizard that was helping me to scry for you. Because…I think I found something.”

“Found something about what?”

“About maybe getting Penny back.” Julia must sense that Kady is about ready to bolt. She holds up her hands, reaching to take hold of her arms and maintain eye contact. “Just—hear me out. Please?”

Kady doesn’t want to hear her out. The name Penny opens up a well of emotion that she thought she locked away for good. All thinking about Penny makes her want to do is find something that will help her see oblivion. But Julia came all this way. Hearing her out will probably make her go away faster, so that she can rebury that ache as well. The box is already cracking just by her being here, after all. She can’t think about Julia without thinking about Penny, too.

In a lot of ways, that’s why Julia is the line in the sand she had to draw. She swallows before glancing back over her shoulder.

“Fine. Let’s…go get a drink.”

* * * * *

Stefan gives them a key to one of the private rooms and a bottle of whiskey. Before Kady can close the door completely, a hand appears on the door frame and Diego’s trying to wedge his way into the room. She places a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back out of the room.

“No, Diego.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her.” Diego’s protective. She knows this, and normally she appreciates that about him, but this isn’t the time. Even then, it’s not like she’s his girlfriend, even if there’s some part of her that thinks maybe, one day. “She upset you.”

“I know. But she didn’t do it on purpose. She’s not here to actually hurt me. I’ll be okay.”

Diego doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer, but she pushes him back again and this time he yields. “Fine.”

“I’ll explain later, okay?”

That seems to placate him more, and he nods, letting her close the door and leaving the two of them together in silence. Julia mostly looks amused, raising an eyebrow as Kady returns to the table.

“You still haven’t lost your touch.”

“Shut up.”

Kady pours them both some of the whiskey and knocks the first glass back. She considers, then holds up a finger, pouring one more glass and finishing it similarly before she nods.

“Okay. Why are you here?”

“I think I can bring him back.” A beat. “Penny. I think I might have a way to bring Penny back.”

In some ways, it’s what she expected and not at the same time. Julia, coming all this way to do this in person, had to be about Penny, but it’s still a bit of a shock to hear her actually say her words. “Penny’s dead, Julia. After the explosion, nothing was left. We even paid all that gold for the fucking True Resurrection spell, and it didn’t fucking work.”

“Yeah. And I was thinking…what if it didn’t work because in order to resurrect someone, they have to be dead and Penny’s not?”

Something dangerously close to hope flares in her chest at those words. She tries to stamp it down, but Julia keeps talking and with every word, it continues to flare further.

“Penny used to transport us all over, remember? And he was in the middle of that ritual when it went wrong. What if it … mixed with his power, sent him somewhere like … on another plane?”

Kady’s never really been one for all the mechanical intricacies of magic. Bards manage their magical talents into their performances and don’t study further than story and song. But Julia’s always been a nerd for that sort of thing, so Kady accepts that if the evidence is interesting enough to bring Julia looking for her, it’s a viable theory. Julia’s not stupid.

But the implications of that statement, that it’s been five years and Penny’s just been out there—it sinks into her stomach like a lead weight. It must show on her face, because Julia’s hands immediately fall over hers. The familiarity of it has Kady seizing her grip out of instinct, without even really thinking about it, because she needs something to hold her steady. Amid it all, Julia keeps talking.

“It’s not hopeless, though. The wizard I’m working with? He thinks we have options. There’s this thing called the apogee solstice coming up and it could generate enough power for us to scry for him, locate the plane he’s on—possibly even summon him back to us. We could find him, Kady.”

It’s still easy to believe her, even now. Even after all this time. The sheer determination on her face says exactly that: that they can save Penny, because Julia has never met an obstacle she couldn’t find her way around.

“Okay.” Kady lets go of her hands, throwing back another drink as she tries to get her head to stop spinning. “Okay. So…what do we do?”

“My friend, I met him when I was digging through the libraries at the Academy in Rexxentrum. I was looking for anything that might have an answer and he told me about this relic, called the Por’co Sphere. It’s rumored to be one of the oldest records of pre-Calamity magic. Like … hardcore Age of Arcanum shit.”

Those words only vaguely mean something to Kady, so she nods. “Yeah okay. So we have to go find it?”

“Actually, he says it’s rumored that the Cobalt Soul already has it. It’s one of their founding artifacts or some shit.”

And with that, a lightbulb goes off. Kady doesn’t know if she should be bitter or amused, and the smile she gives Julia is a bit of both. “So that’s why you’re here. You need my connections.”

Julia’s face flickers again, and she shakes her head. “No, no.” A beat. “I mean, yes, I heard you were working with an expositor who may help us, but … I wouldn’t do this without you, Kady. And if you think it’s a bad idea, we’ll leave it where it is. We do this together, or not at all.”

Part of her feels like she should be angry at that, putting all the decisions on her. But part of her knows that’s always been Kady’s role. To pull Julia back when she’s going to hit an edge. And Penny’s was to remind them both. Or bail them out when they go too far. It's unsurprising that the first thing they do once he’s gone is fall apart.

“No, it’s not … I don’t know if it’s a bad idea. Not yet, anyway.” She runs a hand through her hair. “But if he’s out there, floating somewhere, we can’t just leave him there.”

Julia’s face brightens and she nods. “Thank you.”

Rubbing her eyes and hoping she doesn’t sound completely sloshed, she fishes a piece of copper wire out of her pocket; she flicks the end and casts Sending, pulling the image of Alice Quinn into her mind.

“I need a favor. A big one. Is there any chance you know anything about the Por’co Sphere?”

A long silence hangs in the air before Alice’s voice appears in her mind. “How do you know about the Por’co Sphere?”

Deep breath, she flicks the end of the wire again. “From a friend. Do you know anything? Please?”

There’s another silence, and a heavy sigh follows. “The Cobalt Soul has it. I can try to see what strings I can pull, but they’re going to have conditions.”

Another flick. “I’ll take it. This is my last Sending for the night. Just tell me where to go.”

Silence follows. She and Julia work on finishing the rest of the bottle together, and Stefan brings them some bar snacks to balance out the alcohol. But an hour later, alongside empty glasses and empty dishes, Alice’s voice appears in Kady’s head again.

“Go to Zadash. Ask for Expositor West-Allen.”

“Thank you.”

Julia’s eyebrows go up curiously. “For what?”

“Not you.” Kady shakes her head. “We’re going to Zadash. We leave in the morning.”

* * * * *

Traveling out of Shady Creek Run is never as easy as you want it to be.

The roads to and from the little hive of dastardly people doing dastardly things have their fair share of bandits the day that Kady and Julia leave for Zadash is no exception. The bandits decide to spring on them as they’re getting ready to bunk down for the night, and while they’re nothing that the two of them can’t take, it’s not without damage taken. Kady drops a crystal bead in the middle of their tent, casting Tiny Hut around them to protect them while they sleep. Then she gestures for Julia to come closer.

“Let me see.”

Julia, knowing better than to argue, sits on the bedroll next to her. As she lifts her arm, Kady frowns at the bloody line in her side and murmurs a soft incantation, casting Cure Wounds to seal it off.

“I forgot how handy you were at that.”

“Yeah, well, between you and Penny, one of us had to stitch you up on the fly.” Kady takes a deep breath as she lets her go. “Figured it was a spell worth knowing.”

“I think that’s a little unkind to Penny. He was usually the one yelling at us not to get into trouble.”

“Oh, he liked to complain, sure. But when push came to shove, even he couldn’t stop himself from doing the right thing.” Kady feels the itch of her eyes watering, and she does her best to blink the tears away. “I miss him so much.”

“Me too.” Julia brushes one hand against the apple of her cheeks and then takes Kady’s. Kady can feel the wetness against her skin. “I missed both of you.”

“I’m so sorry.” The two of them, together like this, bring it all bubbling back and she can’t stop the tears from flowing. “For all of it. For leaving like I did. I just … I couldn’t be with you without him. Not because I loved him more, but because—”

“Without him, it wasn’t the same.” Julia turns to face her more. “Just a big hole where Penny used to be.”

Kady nods, running her thumb over the back of Julia’s knuckles. “I can’t lose you the same way, Jules. I don’t have it in me. If this blows up and I’m the only one left—”

“No, you won’t. I won’t. I promise.” She squeezes Kady’s hands tightly, keeping her steady. “I meant what I said. You pull the plug and we stop.” She lets go of one hand before extending it to Kady, pinky out. “We do this together or not at all.”

Kady nods, hooking her pinky around Julia’s. “Together or not at all.”

The gesture is so familiar, a reminder of all the promises they made to each other once upon a time. Some broken, some kept securely between them, but even with each promise that breaks, it’s a promise to try again. And in this one, it’s also a promise to not let the other slip so far again. It’s also a gesture that lingers a little too long, both of them holding each other’s gaze. Eventually, Julia pulls her hand upwards, to kiss the side of her hand and ends the moment, but impulsively, Kady drops her hand, dragging Julia’s hand down with her.

Julia looks at her in confusion and slowly, tentatively, Kady leans in. She brushes her lips against Julia’s once, offering the invitation but also giving her the chance to pull away. There’s surprise in her expression, but when neither of them immediately pulls away, Julia reciprocates, her hands coming up and pulling Kady in closer.

Slowly the barriers crumble as they both sink into the familiar, hands rediscovering places they used to know well, until they’re both falling back onto the bedclothes and getting lost in each other.

* * * * *

The moment passes, alone in the quiet of the woods. As they redress and prepare to fall asleep, Julia looks over at her with a wry expression.

“What are you going to tell Diego?”

“Diego and I aren’t anything,” Kady replies a little too quickly. “Nothing … real anyway. Not yet.”

“He wants to be.”

“That’s because he lacks a healthy sense of self-preservation.” Kady slumps back against the pillows, rolling onto her side to face Julia. “But I think he’ll get that this is about closure more than anything else.” There’s a beat. “Because this is about closure, right?”

Julia nods. “You were right. We couldn’t be us without Penny. At least not in the same way. But I’d like it if we could be friends, though. Rather than people who used to be.”

“Maybe.” Kady takes a deep breath. “Let’s get Penny back first. But … I think being friends could be nice.”

Julia nods. “Diego seems like a nice guy, rather than an asshole.”

Kady laughs. “No, he’s still an asshole. And a little fucked up. But … he’s good.” Nice and good are two different things. “I still don’t know what the fuck he’s doing in Shady Creek Run.”

“Maybe you should ask him one day. Seems to me like he wants to tell you. And maybe you want to tell him too.”

Kady closes her eyes, if only to avoid letting that thought settle in too quickly. It’s a lot of baggage to unload on one person, especially considering what Diego wants from her.

“Maybe. Let’s get this done first.”

* * * * *

Expositor West-Allen is there to meet them when they arrive, asking about the Sphere. And she’s also quick to tell them that no, they won’t be getting access to the Sphere today.

“The Sphere is one of the oldest relics in the Cobalt Soul’s possession. We don’t even like to admit we have it. The minute we got Expositor Quinn’s request, we transported it to a different location.” Iris glances between them with a sympathetic expression. “I’m sorry."

“Then why the hell did you have us come, anyway?” Julia demands, her face matching the bubble of anger forming in Kady’s chest. All that hope, just to get turned away at the door? The Cobalt Soul isn’t playing fair, and they’ve always played fair with her before.

“Because,” Iris begins. “We’re not saying no forever. We’re saying no for now.” Iris straightens a bit before placing a ledger down on the table in front of them. “If you’re willing to do some work for us—a lot of work for us—you might earn it.”

Kady wants to believe that. Alice has never done her dirty before. “How much work?”

“Enough until we know we can trust you with what’s in that sphere. The Age of Arcanum ended for a reason. We don’t enjoy reviving that magic if we don’t have to. So, show us you can be judicious with the power we’re offering you, and we can talk.”

Julia eyes the ledger on the counter. “Can we talk it over?”

Iris nods. “This will be here when you’re ready.” But there’s something about Iris’ tone that says she wishes they won’t be.

The two of them leave and sit on a bench across from the Valley Archive, staring up at the building decorated in the image of the Knowing Mistress. Kady sighs heavily before rubbing her eyes. “It might take years to earn that trust.”

“We could try to steal it?” Julia asks, glancing back at her. “I mean, how hard could it be to break into the Cobalt Soul? We just have to find out what branch it’s in.”

Kady shakes her head. “The Cobalt Soul doesn’t just employ monks and clerics. They pick up wizards sometimes. Necromancers. Meaning they’ll kill us, bring us back for the indentured servitude they’re offering now and we get nothing.”

Julia makes a face before sighing. “We’ll need a party.”

“Guess it’s time to get the band back together. If they’re even still alive.” Knowing some members of their original party, it’s hard to say for sure. “Or we drum one up in Shady Creek Run. Diego might help.” Kady glances over. “What about your wizard friend?”

“Zerxus?” Julia nods. “Yeah. I think he’d be willing to help us. I bet he wants to see what’s in that Sphere just as much as we do.”

“Okay. So we rally a team and get to work.” They’ve already waited five years. Hopefully Penny’s still out there and he can handle waiting a few more. “This could be fun.”

Julia laughs. “Just like old times. I’ll go get the job.”

As Julia heads back into the Cobalt Soul, Kady reaches down, fishing out her familiar piece of wire. She remembers reading, once, that there’s a chance a sending spell could reach across dimensions, but there’s also a chance it could miss. Worth a shot to try now.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but Julia and I are looking for you. We’ll find you, Penny. We’ll bring you home.”

She doesn’t get an answer. But for now, that’s okay. She’ll try again tomorrow.

Edited 2022-10-03 22:48 (UTC)

Zari walks into the common room one morning and finds it to be an explosion of newspaper articles and historical records. Nate is in the middle of it, looking frantic and while she has seen him in the middle of a whirlwind like this before, usually when he’s working on his book, he’s mostly taken that back to the real world at this point.

This feels different. She’s not sure how, but it’s different.

“Babe?”

Nate looks up at her, eyes wild. He’s probably had too much coffee and not enough sleep. But before she can call him out on that, he points up at her. “Sara didn’t send me a birth announcement.”

Of all the things she expects him to say, it’s not that. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sara and Ava are pregnant—I told you, right? Sara’s pregnant with Ava’s baby.”

Her brain record scratches briefly. “How would that even work?”

“The weird alien biology thing?”

“Oh, right. I’m with you now. Continue.”

“Right, well, it’s been almost a year and a half. So unless Sara’s alien DNA causes her to gestate like an elephant, I should have gotten baby pictures by now.”

“Well. I wouldn’t expect Sara to be formal enough to send out birth announcements.”

“Sara, no, but Ava?”

“Okay, good point.”

“And, if no one else, Sara would at least tell her dad and her Earth-Two sister. And when I talked to Laurel, neither of them have heard from her in months. So, I started digging.”

“Thus explaining the conspiracy mess in the living room.” Taking her own cup of coffee, she steps over some papers and settles into a spot on the couch next to him. “Okay. Walk me through it.”

It takes some time, but as they go, the picture becomes clear. After their brief appearance during World War I to save Gywn’s lost love, there’s no future appearance by the Legends in the timeline. It’s hard to track, given that Gywn’s life can’t change if they still want time travel to be a thing and not create a massive paradox, but Gywn doesn’t return to the timeline either. Even if the Legends avoided him getting blown up by his own invention, they would have settled him and Alun somewhere new where they would have been happy.

They didn’t.

When Nate finishes, Zari has barely touched her coffee. “Crap. They really are in trouble.”

“See! We need to do something.” Nate slumps back against the couch next to her. “I took the time courier that Ava left me with so I could get home and tried to get on the Waverider, and I couldn’t find it. It’s like the Waverider’s been taken out of the timeline entirely, even out of the temporal zone.”

“We would know if they were dead.” Zari shakes her head. “Gideon had me put protocols in, and I’m sure she had B do the same. If the Waverider is destroyed, a notice gets sent to STAR Labs in Central City and Smoak Tech in Star City. Barry and Felicity would have told Ray, and Ray would have told you.”

“But—that Waverider was destroyed.”

“…Oh.” Zari makes a face. “Right.” Nate gives her a worried look, and she holds up her hands. “No. We’ll figure this out. I feel like we would know for sure if they were dead. Behrad and Fancy Z would be here.” She takes a deep breath. “We need more information. From someone who knows more about the timeline than we do.”

Nate’s worried expression suddenly turns annoyed. “I know who we might get information out of.”

“You do? Why do I feel like I’m not going to like it?”

Nate sighs. “I’m going to have to go talk to Rip.”

“Rip’s dead, Nate.”

“Yeah, I know.” He picks up his time courier and sighs. “Which means I have to find a point in time where he knows me but also might help me, which is a very narrow window. Time to go check on the Time Bureau.”

Zari is relieved that she doesn’t have to go deal with Rip herself. But she pushes up, giving him a kiss for luck and nods. “You can do it. I love you.”

“Love you too. And I’m sorry. I know I said I was done—”

Zari shakes her head. “Our friends need you. Behrad needs you. Go.”

He disappears in a puff of wind, and Zari hopes everything is going to be okay.

* * * * *

Rip Hunter, in traditional Rip fashion, is just as helpful as he ever is, giving Nate vague allusions to the troubles that the Legends could be in, and not wanting to know too much information for disrupting the timeline. But he mentions something call the Time Police, that would be capable of taking people out of the timeline and allowing them to not be interacted with. He also alludes that there is a time courier entrance at the Vanishing Point that could be useful to them if they have the means of doing so.

Basically, it’s a start. But Rip gives Nate one final warning that might be a bit of a problem.

“The Time Police can monitor the timeline wholesale for mentions of them. So we can’t plot outright in the open, otherwise they’re going to catch on and bust us, too.”

“Maybe that’s our way in?” Zari asks, tipping her head to the side. “Get to the Legends by getting caught?”

“Maybe. But we need to have a plan first, and it can’t just be the two of us. We’re going to need backup and a safe place to plan.”

Zari leans back against the couch, looking around at the information they gathered, before she turns back to Nate with a smile. “What did you do with the rest of the totems after you defeated Mallus in this timeline?”

“Behrad kept his and Amaya hers, but … Kuasa has the rest. Why?”

“A place outside of the timeline where the Time Police can’t spy on us while we come up with a plan?” She gestures to the liminal space around them, and Nate’s face stretches into a wide smile as he leans in to kiss her.

“You’re a genius.”

“I try,” she grins, before looking up at him with a deep breath. “Time to call on the reserves. The Legends need us.”

“I’m on it.”

* * * * *

Slowly, totems appear in critical places. Earth lands on Ray’s work table as he tinkers with his latest project. Water on an altar where Wally is meditating. Fire in the front seat of a car Jax is working on. Death goes directly into Nora’s hands, because if anyone other than Sara can handle the weight and power of the Death totem, it’s Nora Darhk. Soon, they all appear in the totem, one after the other, and the last spot is filled by Mari McCabe.

“My sister said you could use some help,” she says with a smile. “Grandma says hi, by the way.”

Nate smiles and drapes an arm around Zari’s shoulders. “Tell her we miss her every day.”

After that, it doesn’t take long to lay out the plan, take what Rip can provide about the Time Police and put it into something actionable. It’s going to take a hell of a lot of luck to pull off, but they’re the Legends. Ninety percent of the time, they’re running on luck and a prayer, anyway.

As they come to an agreement on their next moves, slowly the totem bearers slip out of the meeting area to make their arrangements. As Zari and Nate settle into bed that night, he turns to look at her. “With Zari and Behrad out of the timeline, maybe you should take over on the air totem end of things. You’re a lot better at it than I am, and it means that Behrad will probably be safe.”

Zari knows that this is about what’s best for the mission in the end. He wants to make sure that they save their friends, rather than taking all the glory for himself. And as much as she appreciates the offer, she shakes her head.

“You’ll be fine. And we have a plan. It’s not like I’ll be sitting on the sidelines the entire time.” There will definitely be points when they need her hacking skills. “We do this together. Now’s not the time for lone wolfs.”

Nate nods again, before turning and curling up against her side. “Oh, there’s one more thing. Rip asked for a favor if we were going to do what he thought we were going to do.”

“What we were going to do being breaking into Time Police HQ?”

“Yeah. Have you ever heard of a guy named Booster Gold?”

“Nope. What about him?”

“We might have to break him out of Time Jail too.”

* * * * *

On paper, the plan is simple.

Get taken to Time Jail, smuggling in the totems. They’re willing to bet that the reason that Behrad hasn’t sounded the alarm prior to this is because the Time Police took his. Then, use the totems to break out, locate the Legends, find the other half of the air totem and the Waverider, and get out of dodge, fast.

Like most Legend plans, it doesn’t quite go according to the letter of the plan, but it keeps the spirit of it. Things definitely go wrong. Nate will have to tell her all the gory details later, as she misses most of it in the totem, but there are also moments where she and Nate move like one person. She pops quickly out of the totem to hack a lock or steal the cameras, and then he continues moving forward to help save their friends.

In the end, once the totem is back in his possession and they’re safe on the Waverider, Behrad pops into the totem and throws his arms around her, warm and tight. It’s with relief that she hugs him back, glad that he’s all in one piece.

“Nate told me it was your idea. With the totems and getting our friends together,” Behrad murmurs into the top of her head. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Zari replies, closing her eyes in his embrace. “I’m glad you’re all okay.”

After the Waverider drops Nate off back in Central City, he returns to the totem and leans in to kiss her. “Couldn’t have saved them without you.”

“We’re a team,” Zari nods. “Always.”

Nate nods with a smile. “But I was thinking, on what our next team up should be.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “You’re here from an erased timeline. I’m willing to bet your Behrad is too.”

There’s something about that response that stills her. It’s not as though she hasn’t thought about reaching out rather than back, wondering if he’s looking for her the way she wants to find him. But totem is an endless space, and not great at giving clues.

“We could look for a really long time.”

“Yeah, we could. But from what I understand—and believe me, I understand very little—we have a lot of time to look.”

Zari smiles and leans in to kiss him softly, brushing her thumb against his cheek. “I would love your help with that.”

“Good.”

She smiles as she turns to settle against him. “Are you going to put together one of your crazy conspiracy walls to do it?”

“Maybe,” he teases, getting comfortable. “I think it’s a very efficient way to get things done.”

Zari laughs. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” She glances over at him and nods. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She sinks into his arms, and while she doesn’t know how she got this lucky, she can’t help but be grateful that things worked out just the way she hoped they would.

Edited 2022-10-04 22:40 (UTC)

“Uh, Cora? What’s this stuff on our bed?”

Cora hears the question from the stove, easily—werewolf hearing is useful that way—but said delicate hearing also picks up the crash of Alex’s spaghetti being shoved onto the floor with an uncomfortable wet splat. She takes a deep breath before deciding to deal with the toddler covered in spaghetti sauce first.

“Just a minute!”

She should have known better. Stiles will not wait. Cora cleans up the high chair and most of the major damage on Alex’s clothes, before scooping him up and taking him upstairs to swap into his pajamas. When she reaches the threshold, though, her husband steps out, ready to make a demand of her.

“No.” A beat. “Why is Alex covered in tomato sauce?”

“Because he’s three and throwing things is fun.” Cora continues into Alex’s bedroom, setting him down on the changing table before undoing the front buttons. “What are we saying no to?”

“What is that on the bed?”

“That is our costumes for the annual Salvatore School Christmas Extravaganza.”

“And why are we wearing costumes?”

“Because local parents are encouraged to participate and costumes are required.” After she finishes changing Alex, she turns and passes him off to her husband. Then, she turns and heads to the bedroom to change out of her own tomato-sauce-and-drool combination. “Werewolves get to be elves.”

“There are tights, Cora.”

“Yes, I noticed.” She heads into the closet to get a clean shirt, changing quickly before coming back out again. “But not a lot of the wolf kids have parents that can or will participate. In fact, they’re basically a lot of orphans and foster kids. Caroline and Alaric are heavily encouraging us to take part and set an example.”

Stiles sits on the edge of the bed with Alex and her heart swells briefly at the sight, but when Stiles looks back up at her, she knows the conversation isn’t over. Hope that he would just go with it because he loves his son is bursting. It’s not like she wants to do this either, but they don’t really have much of a choice.

“Cora. You know I want to be that parent that gets involved in all the things but. Not that. No, anything but that.”

“Unfortunately, babe, this time we don’t get a choice. This is for Ben.”

He huffs. “You know what happened the last time I wore tights.”

“And now you know how to prevent it.” Cora makes her way closer and gives him a quick kiss. “And if it makes you feel better, Derek and Allison have to do it, too.”

Stiles blinks briefly before looking up at her with a grin. “You’re right. That makes me feel better.”

“I thought so.”

Footsteps sound in the hallway next to them as Ben rounds the corner wearing his elf costume. It’s bright green with puffy sleeves and short pants. A green felt hat sits on his head, while yellow and white striped tights lead to his big green shoes. The dejected look on his face really makes the look, and he sighs.

“I look stupid.”

Cora covers her mouth with a hand to smother her laugh. “No, sweetheart. You look great.”

“You’re lying, but it’s a nice lie, so I won’t hold it against you.”

“This is exactly my point. You realize this, right?” Stiles looks up at her and she shakes her head.

“This is parenthood, Stiles. Sometimes you have to embarrass yourself for the greater good.”

* * * * *

When they arrive on the backfield of the Salvatore School, it’s rather sad to see that Caroline’s predictions are true. Of the small smattering of wolf students, there are only four adults between them—Derek, Allison, Cora and Stiles. Most of the students are older, which is good, as they’re the type of wolf that has to trigger their wolf side by killing someone, but there are a few young ones that fall into that category that makes Cora’s heart hurt.

And when it’s time for the factions to split into smaller teams, one adult a piece, Ben grabs his father’s hand to be the chaperone of his team.

“No offense, Mom, but we need Batman for this one if we’re gonna win.”

Cora raises an eyebrow at that. “You are aware of the two of us. I’m the one who’s actually a werewolf, right?”

Stiles’s eyes widen, and he looks down at his son. “We’re in trouble.”

“Not if we win,” Ben insists, hands on his hips. “I bet we can do it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Cora replies, before heading over to the group of younger wolves that they have assigned her to. Baal seems to have chosen his father for his team as well, and Allison’s got a group of teenagers that she’s already rallying to the cause. Honestly, if Stiles wants to be worried, it should probably be about Allison’s team.

Still, as Cora is heading to the team, she spots a sparkly snowflake sitting at the end of the bleachers. The young witch is staring longingly at the other teams of snowflakes. Most of the witch parents had shown up for their children, so much so that some of them were handed reindeer costumes and handed off to the vampires. But Hope is out there on her own, and Cora slowly makes her way closer.

“Hey, Hope. You okay?”

Hope looks up at Cora and smiles sadly. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just…I don’t think my team wants me around.” She nods over to Josie and Lizzie Saltzman, who seem to be heavily invested in their team and shooting glares at the witch on the bleachers.

Cora’s face softens. “Still having trouble making friends?”

Hope shrugs. “I just wish I was a wolf already, so I could be on Ben's or Baal’s team.” At that, a lightbulb goes off over Cora’s head and she glances over to Caroline, raising an eyebrow. She knows the vampire is listening, so when the blond meets Cora’s eyes, she nods.

“Why don’t you come be on my team?”

Hope frowns. “But I’m a witch.”

“Yeah, but you could be a werewolf one day. Maybe you should make some werewolf friends, too. They might be nicer to you than the witches are.” She remembers what young girls could be like. Hope just needs to find a place to fit in.

“Okay.” Hope brightens instantly as she hops off the bleachers to follow her to the rest of the group.

“Okay, everybody. I’m Mrs. Stilinski, Ben’s mom. This is Hope. She’s going to be joining our team.”

Jed, a tall Asian boy with shaggy dark hair, who is far too young to have activated his abilities, stares up at her from under his elf hat. “But she’s a witch. She’s supposed to be playing on the witch team.”

“But her mom is a werewolf, which means she might be one too some day. The witches have a little extra, so Ms. Forbes said she could join our team.”

Jed looks suspicious, but he accepts that as an answer, for now. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well, a scavenger hunt is all about working together. We’ll want to split up and use our senses to our advantage. A lot of the items on this list have distinct smells.”

“If we split up, how will we know when some things are found.”

“I can help!” Hope offers. “We just learned a spell that helps us talk in each other’s heads like we’re in the same room even when we’re not.”

“Good. So we’ll use that spell to keep in touch. When you find something, let Hope know, and she’ll cross it off the list.” She turns to place the list in Hope’s hands. “Now, who’s great at scent tracking?”

A smattering of hands go up, a little less than half the group. “Okay, everyone who isn’t, pick a buddy who is. We work in teams of two.” Quickly, the rest of the wolves pair off, Hope getting first pick of her partner since she doesn’t have a nose yet. Everyone except Jed and Cora places a hand on his shoulder gently. “You work with me, alright?”

Jed swallows before nodding.

“Good. So we have a plan. Hope, when we have everything, let all of us know and we’ll meet back here.” The kids nod and she gives them a small smile. “I know this is a game, but don’t worry about winning. Right now, we’re just here to have fun, and work on our honing our senses, okay?”

A whistle sounds in the background, and Cora nods as they all take off into the woods. “Alright. Let’s go!”

* * * * *

Jed actually isn’t bad at scent tracking, despite his being so young and new to his wolfiness. He flanks Cora like a partner should, facing the opposite direction see is to make sure all angles are covered. She tucks another one of their located items into her pocket before sending word to Hope through the spell.

She’s heard Ben complain about Jed. That he’s bossy and mean, and he doesn’t know how to work as a team. The way he’s behaving now seems like evidence to the contrary, but she also knows that she’s an adult. It’s probably different with kids.

“You’re pretty good at pack tactics,” Cora says as they head toward the next item on the list. “Do you have one back home?”

Jed looks up at her, eyes wide, almost as though he’s been caught in something. “I used to. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you care?” Jed looks up at her with a sullen glare. “I’m not friends with Ben.”

“No, you’re not.” She will give him that much. “But I know what it’s like to feel you lost your pack. To feel you’re alone. I’d like to help, if I can.”

Jed looks down at his hands, playing with a piece of bark in his hands. “I killed my dad. My alpha. But he was going to make me kill my best friend, and I didn’t want to.”

Of all the stories that she was expecting, that isn’t the answer. She doesn’t know much about pack structure for the cursed wolves, but she knows how hard it can be to disobey your alpha. Especially when they’re a parent.

“If he was going to make you kill your best friend, then it doesn’t sound like he was a very good alpha. Or father.”

It’s hard to tell an eleven-year-old that they did the right thing by killing someone. But she will not tell him that what he did was wrong, either.

“And that’s how you turned?”

He nods again. “I like it here. But I don’t think it likes me.”

Cora nods. “I get that. But different packs have different rules. And I don’t think the pack here will make you do anything like that ever again.”

“No. But that doesn’t mean the pack wants me either.”

“I think they do. And I think you know a lot about being in a pack, how you have to protect each other.” She points to what he’s doing. “You always make sure you’re looking where I’m not. Face downwind to make sure someone isn’t able to sneak up on you. Those are good things to do. You could probably teach them a lot—you just have to show them you’re all on the same team, okay?”

“Okay.” Jed almost seems relieved that he has something to offer the rest of the pack. “You think even Ben would want to be my friend?”

She laughs. “Ben wants to be friends with everyone. But he won’t put up with someone who’s mean to him all the time.”

Jed’s eyes drop a little, embarrassed. “I’ll be better at that. But could you not tell him we talked about it? I don’t want him to think it’s because his mom told me to.”

“It’s between you, me, and the trees. Promise.”

“Guys?” Hope’s voice goes through their heads like a loudspeaker. “Matt and I just found the last one. We’re done!”

Cora nods before placing a hand on Jed’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s head back and see if we won.”

* * * * *

They don’t win. Allison and her pack of teenagers sweep the competition, but no one is surprised at that. Well—none of the adults are, anyway. As the kids are rounded up and taken back to their classes for the end of the day, Cora meets Stiles back out on the bleachers to wait for Ben. She sits next to him and tucks into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around her.

“Remember when we used to sneak out to make out on the lacrosse field?” He teases. “I was usually wearing something much sexier.”

“I remember,” she smiles. “I remember it fondly, actually.”

“Good,” Stiles grins, kissing her forehead.

Cora takes a deep breath. “So I talked to Caroline.”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to ask her about one wolf on my team today. I wanted to offer, in case he needed an adult to intervene for him. He doesn’t really have anyone, so I figured I could check in on him from time to time. And she made me a counteroffer.”

“What kind of counter offer?”

“She was very impressed with the way I could organize the wolves and help them use their scent training to work together. Also, how I got them to work with Hope. She asked if I would be interested in coming on to teach full time.”

Stiles sits up in surprise, glancing at her curiously. “What would you be teaching?”

“I pointed out to her I’m not qualified to teach much, but she pointed out that a supernatural school needs to have a supernatural curriculum and that I have pretty much almost thirty years of expertise in that. They have classes for witches to teach them magic and training for vampires for their abilities—they just never had someone available who would teach for wolves.”

“So you’d basically be like their de facto alpha.”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you say?”

“That I had to talk to you first?” Cora makes a face. “I know you were thinking about maybe finding another job, but if both of us go back to work, we’ll need to find child care for Alex that’s closer to home.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Or I could not find a job and you could go do this. It’s not like we need to have two incomes.”

Cora frowns. “Are you sure you won’t get bored being home all the time?”

“As you see fit to remind me often, Alex does his very best to keep things interesting.” He smirks. “I think we’ll be just fine.”

“Okay.” She smiles as she leans in to kiss him. “Thank you. I’ll tell Caroline I accept her offer in the morning.”

“Good.” He pulls back to look at her. “So. Ben is staying at school tonight and Alex is still with your sister until the weekend. What shall we do with ourselves until then?”

Cora considers, then shrugs. ”We could get out of these ridiculous costumes and enjoy some actual adult time for a while?”

Stiles grins as he takes her hand to pull her up. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Edited 2022-10-05 23:23 (UTC)

Apparently, you can’t try to outrun the end of the world forever. Also, being a shitty person sends you to Hell.

Who knew?

Allison doesn’t remember much about her death, which is probably for the best. When a Kugelblitz is coming for you, you probably don’t want to remember what it does to you. She also can’t bring herself to care that she’s dead, either. It’s not as though she has a lot to live for at this point. Claire is gone, Ray is dead—what else is left?

Even if she doesn’t have reasons to live, she’s still a survivor, in the end. A castle calls to her across the swirling vortex of cold and fear and all of her worst choices and wants. She has practiced suppressing the worst pieces of herself, but this is a new agony, certainly a piece of the torture that they say Hell to bring upon them, but she keeps moving, making it out the other side. She’s cold, every limb shaking with the effort it takes to move a single step, but she arrives on the steps of the dark manor, embellished with black and gold details, and a solitary man standing at the door.

“Welcome to House Wrath. It’s impressive that you made it through the Sin Corridor so quickly on your own.”

Her brain is too slow from the cold to come up with something as witty as she would normally like, but she manages a brief: “Wrath, huh? That tracks.”

The man looks amused, before extending a hand out to her to help her up the stairs. “My name is Anir. Let me show you to your room.”

He leads the way through rooms of opulence, featuring the same black and gold details as the exterior. While it’s not expensive in a way that’s over the top—that’s something she would expect for Gluttony, not Wrath—it still has a richness to it. Each of the inhabitants she sees is dressed impeccably. Groomed as though they’re part of a picture, not one hair or blemish out of place. There is a standard to living here that she notices quickly.

Luckily for her, she isn’t afraid to rise to it.

She’s vaguely aware of Anir giving her some kind of tour, and she might have to take it again. Wandering on her own always gives her a better sense of things wandering on her own. The tour culminates in a set of rooms, just as lavish as the rest of the house.

“You’ll be expected to dine with Prince Wrath and the Princess tonight. Be punctual, as anything else will be taken as a sign of disrespect.”

She nods, before glancing back at him. “Thank you.” It’s the first words she’s spoken since the door, and she realizes she hasn’t given him her name yet. “My name is Allison. Hargreeves.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Allison.” Anir smiles, before disappearing out the door. “See you at dinner.”

After the door closes, silence permeates the room, and she finally has time for the rest of it to catch up with her. In the silence of the rooms, she takes in the obvious comfort of the bed. Expensive furnishings, luxurious fabrics. She wanders to the closet and looks over a line of dresses, each more daring and beautiful than the last—just Allison’s style.

Part of her knows that the VIP treatment likely won’t last. That she will have to prove herself if she intends to stay. Especially since she’s unsure if her powers will even work here. But, never let it be said that Allison Hargreeves isn’t prepared to rise to a challenge. Stalking back to the bathroom, she turns the faucet on the tub and prepares to clean herself up.

Time to impress a prince.

* * * * *

She keeps in tune with the colors of the house, picking a gold dress that brings out her skin tone with embroidered black details. She does her hair, does her makeup, feels like herself again for the first time since they landed back in 2019, and hopes that this is something that could continue. Allison will not lie and says she isn’t accustomed to the finer things in life. She’s more than willing to do what it takes to keep it.

As she descends the stairs to dinner, she takes in the room, as she’s sure that most eyes are on her. Just how she likes it. She focuses her attention on those sitting at the head of the table. The prince, she assumes, is an imposing man with dark hair and gold eyes who almost seems like he can look right through her. To his right is a beautiful woman with long dark hair. They complement each other perfectly, in their dress and with the way they’re observing her.

Part of her almost thinks they seem to approve of her making an entrance. The rest of the table seems less than pleased.

“Allison. Welcome.” Wrath gestures to the empty seat at the table. “I take it the accommodations are to your liking.”

“They are.” She reaches the seat and slides into it, crossing one leg over the other. “I thank you for your hospitality. Though, given where we are, it leaves me to wonder if there’s a catch.”

He raises an eyebrow at her boldness. “And why would you say that?”

“For one, this is Hell. From what all the religions like to say, this is suffering. While I’m sure it’s true for someone, somewhere, I’ve never found fine accommodations and beautiful clothes unpleasant.” She tips her head to the side. “But I noticed that those who stay here are expected to meet a certain standard. I wanted to show that I could rise to the occasion.”

“Adaptable,” the princess says, a smile of approval crossing her features. “I like that.”

Allison smiles as well, glad to see that she is winning approval somewhere. Dinner dissolves into normal conversation, and she does her best to keep an ear on the gossip, trying to find morsels of things that may be relevant later. But as the diners eventually depart, the Princess makes her way to the end of the table and rests her hand on Allison’s.

“I would like to speak with you privately. Come to my chambers in a few hours?”

“Of course.” Allison doesn’t feel that she’s in a place or position of power enough to say no, at least not yet. The Princess nods in agreement before taking her leave, with only Allison and Anir remaining at the table.

“She’s … not like the rest of the people here, is she?”

Anir raises an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting assessment for someone who’s been here less than a day.”

Allison raises an eyebrow back at him. “I’m thinking that I am, too. I’m not here just because wrath is my sin. I’m here because I have something to offer them.”

Anir’s quiet, before shrugging. “With the mortal world ending, things have been complicated. But, no, you’re not wrong to have the impression that there’s something they want from you. I would hear the Princess out, see what you think for yourself.”

Allison nods, before getting to her feet and heading towards the stairs. Her heels click against the marble floors, but before she ascends, she stops.

“The Princess’s chambers?”

Anir smirks. “Forgetting your tour already?”

Allison gives him a mild look, as he turns to fall in step next to her. “I’m sorry. I was still thawing from the ice tunnel I had to walk through to get here.”

“Fine, I’ll show you again.” He glances back over his shoulder as he jogs up the stairs. “Maybe this time take notes.”

Allison rolls her eyes before turning to follow. She still probably doesn’t know if she can trust him, but at least someone here has a sense of humor.

* * * * *

A few hours later, as requested, Allison comes to the Princess’s door and knocks. A few moments later, the door opens, and the Princess appears, dressed down from her appearance at dinner earlier that day, but not completely casual. She smiles before stepping to the side and gesturing for the other woman to come in.

“Allison. Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for having me, your Highness.” A beat. “That is the title for princesses, right?”

“Emilia, please. If you’re comfortable being that informal.”

“I am if you are.” Allison releases the breath she’s been holding as she walks in, taking in Emilia’s sitting room. It’s tasteful decorated, but a few more personal touches than the rest of the house. Likely because this space is personal to her.

“You were right, at dinner, to call out that you being here isn’t a common occurrence. Most need to work their way up the ranks, and in House Wrath that can involve spilling literal blood on your climb to the top.” Emilia circles the room, gesturing to the pot next to her. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.” It’s possible that refusing it is rude, but she should be careful what she eats or drinks until she’s more comfortable. Emilia doesn’t seem to take offense to it, and pours herself a cup. “I’m not afraid of hard work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I don’t think you are. But you and other mortals like you, who were born on that day in October, under those circumstances…we’re not really sure what you are. We’re not sure we can measure you by the same rules.”

It’s not the first time Allison’s entertained the idea that she might not be human. So many theories about how the Umbrellas and the Sparrows happened float around, but now Allison understands the pieces on the board. Forty-three of them, to be specific.

“What do you need from me? Persuading my siblings' loyalty?” That might not be possible. She didn’t exactly leave them on the best terms.

Emilia shakes her head. “They’re going to join the houses they join. Wrath can’t claim those who do not share kinship with him. But with all of those power shifting because of the abilities of you and those like you, we would like to ensure your loyalty.”

Allison can read between the lines of what she’s saying. She’s trying to ensure that if other houses attempt to use her siblings against them, she’ll be able to hold firm with House Wrath. That she won’t betray them for those who have had her loyalty longer. Allison’s eyes drop to her dress, fingers clenching in the fabric. As much as her siblings have her anger, she doesn’t know if she could fully stab them in the back.

“Most of the people like me I don’t care about. Move those pieces however you want. But…I can’t make that promise with my family.” Better to be honest than to lie and make things worse. As much as Allison is a gifted liar, she’s not sure it’s worth the risk.

“The names of your family?”

“Luther, Diego, Klaus, Five, Ben and Viktor Hargreeves.” A pause. “Also, Lila Pitts.”

Emilia nods. “Lila has been eyed for House Wrath.”

“Good choice.”

“Five has been taken by Pride, Klaus by Gluttony and Viktor, Envy.”

“That … also tracks.”

“Pride and Gluttony can be allies, when prompted. Envy, though…”

Allison nods. She and Viktor ended with a rather broken relationship, but even with her being unwilling to forgive, she won’t offer him up on a platter, either. “I can’t. I won’t trade him just to jump the line. So if it means me starting at the bottom, then so be it.”

Emilia’s face softens briefly, possibly even with an understanding of the predicament Allison is in. But she respects her choice and nods as she gets to her feet. Meeting over, Allison stands as well.

“Then that starts tomorrow.” Emilia walks Allison to the door. “I hope you’re prepared to get messy.”

Allison nods. Messy she can handle. “Bring it on.”

Edited 2022-10-02 19:30 (UTC)

Kady’s been in jail for two days. That’s two more days than Kady expected being in jail for.

It is her own fault. After parting ways with Julia after everything that happened, she’s worked with the wrong people. Which has naturally led to them screwing her over and making her take the fall for their ill-gotten gains. In most towns, she’d be able to sweet-talk her way out of trouble.

But not in Rexxentrum.

It’s clear that the miscreants she’s aligned herself with aren’t coming back for her at this point. Which means she’s on her own. She’s been spending most of her time in the cell trying to craft her way out of this joint.

Seduce the guard and steal his keys? Hide in plain sight? While they took her personal effects, she still has a few select spell items hidden in her clothes. The boning and structure of her dress are crafted with copper wire. She could break off a piece and cast send a message to … who? Julia? The crew that abandoned her?

Yeah, neither of those options is appealing.

She’s in the middle of weighing her options when a pair of guards drag in another prisoner and set them in the cell across from her. When they clear away, resting on the wooden bench, a blond woman had her hands pressing into her side. Kady could make out the bright red stain of blood against her pale skin, and while she doesn’t particularly care what happens to most prisoners, she’s generally against people dying if she can help it. But the guards don’t seem to have the same morals, and have done their job of depositing her and walking away.

“Hey, hey!”

Kady picks up the small metal bowl they had given them for their breakfast and chucks it at the Crownsguard’s head. It hits its target, striking him in the back of his metal helmet, and angry eyes turn on her.

“What?!”

“That prisoner over there isn’t looking so good.” Kady points to the cell across from her. “You should get her a cleric.”

“Do you think we have the money to spare for a cleric?” the guard rolls his eyes. “She’s not dead.”

“But she will be, if you don’t do something.”

The blond looks up at her and shakes her head. “I’m fine.” Her voice is shaky, and she sounds like she’s anything but fine. “I’ve still got a couple more hours before I pass out from the blood loss.”

Kady smirks at the faint dry candor to her tone and then looks back at the guard. “See? If you’re not going to call a cleric, at least let me do something for her.”

“You’re a cleric?”

“No. I’m a bard. Bards can heal, but not from a distance.” That isn’t technically true, but Kady is banking on the guard, not being well-learned in different magics. “If you put me in her cell, I’ll make sure someone doesn’t die on your watch.”

The guard rolls his eyes. “Step back from the door.”

Kady does as she’s told, holding up her hands as the dry metal scrapes across the stone floor. The guard takes her roughly by the arm, pulls her to the opposite cell and deposits her inside. Kady immediately moves to the woman’s side and casts Cure Wounds, stitching up the woman’s wound. The blond relaxes with a slow breath, before nodding.

“Thank you.” She waits until the guard disappears around the corner before she continues: “But we both know you could have done that with a Healing Word from across the way.”

“Yeah, we know that. But he clearly didn’t know that.” Kady smirks. “And now we can talk without shouting at each other.”

The blond nods. “Smart.” She holds up her hand in a wave. “Alice.”

“Kady. A bit cliché, but what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Long story, but I could ask you the same.”

Kady leans forward, making sure the Crownsguard isn’t coming back before she sighs. “Some people I thought were my friends talked me into a job only to have me take the fall for it.”

Alice nods. “I was trying to get into the library at the Solstryce Academy. But apparently they haven’t warmed up to me since I was a student.”

Kady frowns, not sure what to make of that story. “And they stabbed you for it?”

Alice glances down at the bloodstained hole in her clothes where her wound used to be. “Well, I may have been trying to get myself into this ultra-exclusive portion of the library to see what one of my old teachers was working on, and shockingly, I’m not one of the stealthiest people.”

Her tone shows that’s not supposed to be very shocking. Kady nods, because she knows the feeling.

“Maybe we can help each other?” Kady asks. “You help me figure out a way for us to break out of jail, and I’ll help you get to the heavy duty magic stuff.”

Alice raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even know why I want it.”

Kady probably should be more careful about things like this, but right now she wants out of jail more. And if Alice went to the Solstryce Academy, that means she probably knows more about the jail than she does. Especially since the Academy doesn’t seem to have been fond of her.

“It’s none of my business.” Kady shrugs. “And I’ve met people who’ve wanted to use magic to do bad things. Some of them are in that academy. I don’t think you’re one of them.”

Alice nods. “Another problem: I’m a wizard, not a bard or a sorcerer. Which means I need my spell book and my casting materials and they generously relieved me of that when they were making me a prisoner. I don’t think even you have everything you need to get us out of here.”

“Yeah, this is not my first time in jail.” Kady reaches down and pulls off her boot, before swirling the bottom to reveal a hidden compartment full of assorted spell focuses she might need to have hold of. “I think I’m covered. I’ll handle the magic, if you’re familiar enough with this jail to have a way out.”

Alice holds her gaze for a minute, before nodding. “Yeah. I think I can make that work.”

“Good. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

* * * * *

Getting let out of their cell seems to be easy enough. It’s not the brightest members of the Crownsguard that are employed to monitor the prisoners, especially ones that have supposedly been stripped of all their spell ingredients. So all it really requires is a quick invisibility spell and waiting until the guard notices they’re “missing.” It’s not long before the door to they open the cell so they can search, and quietly, the two of them slip through the door and further into the cells itself.

“This way,” Alice murmurs, keeping her voice low. “There’s a back door.”

Kady nods, keeping close on her heels. “So guess I was right to peg you as a troublemaker.”

Alice rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t. Not really. But I had plans that were bound to get me into trouble so this—friend. He told me all the ways out.”

Kady senses from the way she talks about him he was more than just a friend. But she seems uncomfortable talking about him, but Kady doesn’t push. Not her place. Instead, they just focus on winding their way through the back hallways until they reach a metal ladder built into the wall. Kady frowns.

“What the hell is this?”

“This is the backdoor to the library that they would theoretically use to funnel guards, if the Academy is under attack.”

Kady is also getting the sneaking suspicion that Alice might have gotten herself put in here on purpose. “I would also assume that they probably locked this door from the other side?”

“Probably. But I’m willing to bet you know a Knock spell?”

“That spell makes a lot of noise.”

“There’s also a Silence spell.”

“Knock doesn’t work without you saying the incantation. And it also counts as casting a spell, which means we lose our invisibility.”

“Maybe, but this is our only way out. Unless you want to sneak out through the front door where they have magic nullification at every other entrance.”

Kady huffs before climbing up the ladder to the trapdoor. “Fine. But you better be ready to haul ass.” Alice nods as she comes up behind her, and Kady takes a deep breath before dropping the invisibility and murmuring the incantation for Knock under her breath.

She raps her knuckles against the door and hears the lock on the other side slide open. She also hears the loud, echoing knock that definitely carries down back towards the guard station that they snuck past.

Swearing softly under her breath, she pushes the trap door up and open and tumbles out into a quiet annex of the library. She reaches down to pull Alice out after her, and as soon as they close the door, she casts invisibility on both of them again, gripping the other woman’s wrist to get her to stay calm and still.

The guards come by to investigate the sound, and they retreat quietly back into the stacks. Soon, with nothing to find on their own, they talk about going to gather magic users who might be better equipped to handle the situation, and Alice nods to Kady.

“Let’s go. What I’m looking for is close to here.”

Kady nods and follows Alice through the twists and turns of the library until they eventually come to a stop in front of an office door.

“It’s magically trapped,” Alice explains. “Do you think you could—”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think Knock is strong enough for this.” She reaches up and pulls a pair of bobby pins out of her hair. Running her fingers along the edge of the door frame, she delicately undoes the trap triggers she can find before sliding the pins into the lock. She works slowly, waiting to feel the give the way they had taught her, and sighs when she hears the final click.

“Okay. I think it’s open.”

“Check that again.” Alice moves closer. “Are you sure?”

Kady turns the doorknob and pushes it open gently, holding her breath and prepared to dive out of the way if necessary. When the doorframe doesn’t explode in a fireball, she gestures with her hands.

“See? We did it.” She smirks. “Sometimes magic isn’t everything.”

* * * * *

It takes about twenty minutes for them to find what Alice came for in the first place, and then another hour for them safely to wind their way out of the Academy and into the streets of Rexxentrum. Kady’s invisibility drops at a certain point, but by then, they were so far from the point of their arrest that it doesn’t matter. Another hour after that, and they stop for a meal at a tavern on their way out of Rexxentrum, where they intend to go their separate ways.

“Oh, wait!” Kady looks up from her beer, frowning. “What about your spell book?”

Alice shakes her head. “It was a duplicate. Only had the spells I needed for the job. My real one is safe and sound.”

“Smart,” Kady nods. “Then again, wizard.” She pauses as she takes another pull of her drink. “You said you went to the Academy, right? So why not sign up with the Assembly after?”

Alice shakes her head. “I didn’t actually graduate. Something happened and I couldn’t bring myself to stay.” The blond finishes her own ale and sighs. “I found something new, though. Something better.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alice drums her fingers against the table. “I think we worked really well together. Maybe you should join, too. It’s called the Cobalt Soul?”

Kady’s eyebrows go up, and she nods. “I’ve heard of them. But I don’t think they’re for me. I’m not great at flying under the radar.” It goes against her bardic instincts. She’d much rather make a scene.

“That’s a shame. I think they could use more people who think outside the box.” Alice shrugs. “But if I need your help with something in your area of expertise…?”

Kady nods. “I’d be open to it. I don’t know where I’m going to end up yet, but you could always use a Sending.”

Alice nods. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She holds out a hand as she gets to her feet. “It was nice meeting you, Kady.”

Kady nods and shakes her hand. “You too, Alice.” Alice nods as she turns to go, heading back out into the city, when Kady realizes that there’s no reason this partnership can’t go both ways. “Wait. What’s your specialty?”

Alice raises an eyebrow, before dropping her voice. “Necromancy.”

Kady nods and gives her another wave, before turning her attention back to her food again, quietly hoping that she never needs Alice’s help with something like that.

Edited 2022-10-07 22:41 (UTC)

“Wynonna!”

“Oh, you are hammered.” Wynonna grins as she catches her sister, rescuing Waverly from falling completely to the ground. Waverly spins them in a circle before pulling back with a bright smile.

“It’s m’birthday,” she says with a nod. “I’m allowed to get a little hammered.” Then her grin turns saucy. “And maybe a little nailed—”

“Okay, what you and Nicole do in the privacy of your own bedroom is not for me to hear about when I’m still completely sober.” Wynonna points to the bar. “If you’re going to talk about that, we’re doing shots.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Waverly follows Wynonna to the bar, and what follows is, in fact, a great deal of shots. Possibly more than Waverly should have had, given how much she’s already consumed. Her head is going to hate her for it in the morning, but she’s needed a night of not being wound so tight.

Sometimes it sucks to be the responsible one, and you shouldn’t have to be responsible for your birthday.

A few hours later, she’s sobering up some as she and Wynonna sit next to the bonfire, wrapped in blankets. She shifts, resting her head against Wynonna’s shoulder with a sigh. “I missed you. I’m glad you could come.”

“I would not have missed this for the world.” Wynonna squeezes her hand gently. “It’s my favorite person’s birthday. There’s no place else I’d rather be.”

The phrasing of that strikes something in her. “Can I tell you what I want for my birthday next year, even though it's still my birthday?”

Wynonna snorts. “It’s your birthday, kid. You make the rules.”

“Mmmm. Next year for my birthday, I want you to take me somewhere.”

“Take you somewhere?” Wynonna raises an eyebrow. “Like where? The moon?”

“No, silly.” Waverly shrugs. “I’ve never been anywhere. And now Nicole can’t take me anywhere, but you can.” Her head lifts so that she’s looking her sister in the eye. “It can be an annual thing. Our birthdays are so close together, maybe it can be an Earp Sister Birthday Adventure.”

Wynonna grins. “I’d like that. Any preferences about where you want to go?”

“Somewhere not Purgatory. And also not in the Ghost River Triangle.”

“That’s a very broad category, but I think I can make it work.” A beat. “You’re probably not going to remember this when you wake up, will you?”

Waverly shakes her head. “Nope. Probably not.” Waverly knows herself when she’s drunk, and she’s not that sober yet.

Wynonna nods before kissing the top of her head. “Good. It’ll be a surprise.”

Waverly nods as she closes her eyes. “Just make sure you clear it with Nicole first.”

“Always.”

Waverly drifts off not long after that, basking in the comfort of having her favorite person around.

* * * * *

“You packed, baby girl?”

“Packed?” Waverly glances up at Wynonna, brow furrowing with confusion. She can’t help but feel like she’s forgetting something. If it’s something that she has to pack for, you would think that Waverly would have had knowledge of it in the past. But nothing is connecting, and Wynonna grins.

“You don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?”

“Last year, on your birthday, you asked me to come kidnap you for a birthday trip for the two of us.”

Waverly blinks, because she doesn’t remember this conversation. “How drunk was I? Wait, how drunk were you? You remembered.” It’s a roller coaster of emotion, ranging from confusion to surprise to happiness, but honestly, Waverly is touched. She shouldn’t be surprised that her sister remembered something important to her, but with Wynonna’s track record, it’s better to embrace the wins rather than remembering the disappointments.

“You were very drunk. I was not very, and of course I remembered.” Wynonna slings an arm around her shoulders. “And I even cleared it with Nicole behind your back to make sure that your schedule was clear and that I wouldn’t get arrested on the way out of town.”

“Aww,” Waverly smiles at both of them. “Thanks, guys. This is probably the best gift I’ve gotten in a long time.”

“Of course.” Nicole presses a kiss to her temple as she passes by. “Just send me all the pictures, okay?”

“Deal.” Waverly waits until Nicole passes out of the room before turning back to her sister. “So, where are we going? How much do I have to pack? What do I have to pack for?”

“Before you get too excited, we’re just going to Minneapolis.” Wynonna holds up her hands. “We’ll start small and save up for the big stuff, alright?”

Waverly tries to smother her excitement somewhat, as she’s never been to Minneapolis, but the promise of there being more is just as exciting, and she throws her arms around her sister to hug her tightly. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“I have an inkling. You only ask for the stuff you really want when you’re drunk.” Wynonna presses a kiss to her temple. “Go get packing. We’ll want to leave in an hour if we want to make good time.”

“Yes ma’am,” Waverly grins, before bouncing up to her room to pack. This is probably going to be one of her best birthdays in a long time. She can’t wait to get started.

* * * * *

They hit the road on time and while there’s a minor hiccup at the edge of the Ghost River Triangle, to make sure Waverly can make it through without losing all her memories, the rest of the trip flows pretty smoothly. Nicole gets pictures from various landmarks like the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden or a game at TCF Bank Stadium. There’s also the fair share of bars, because it’s not an Earp adventure without a bit of alcohol.

Their last night in town, they find a spot for dinner with a decent view of the Grand Rounds Byway, so they can see the bridge over the water. As Wynonna returns to their table with drinks from the bar, she gives her sister a little nudge.

“So. A good birthday trip for a first go?”

Waverly smiles back at her before nodding. “Yeah. It was everything I wanted it to be.”

“You really need to stop setting the bar so low, Waves.” Wynonna settles into her seat and sips her whiskey. “There are way cooler things to see out there that aren’t Minneapolis.”

Waverly laughs. “Yeah, but you said we were saving up for those. And considering I completely forgot, I asked you for this and you totally could have gotten away with getting me another gift certificate for nerd books, as you so eloquently but it, it’s definitely exceeded expectations.”

“I’m trying to get better at that,” Wynonna nods. “I’ll admit I’ve been a shitty sister.”

“You weren’t shitty. You just weren’t always thoughtful. Those are two different things.”

“Are they though?” Wynonna asks.

“Of the two sisters I’ve had, you’re the one who hasn’t tried to kill me, so yeah, I think I know what a shitty sister is.” Waverly pauses as she reaches over and takes her hand. “And this trip wouldn’t mean nearly as much to me if we weren’t doing it together.”

“Making up for lost time.” Wynonna nods and squeezes her hand back. “I get it.”

“Do you think we could swing through Miracle on the way home?” Waverly offers a hesitant smile. “I haven’t seen Alice since… well, she was Alice.” And she makes a gesture to show a small baby that would fit in her arms.

“Might take an extra day to get home.”

“I’ll let Nicole know that demons have not kidnapped us. We’re just taking a detour.” Waverly smiles as she turns to watch the sunset, keeping Wynonna close. Tomorrow they’ll get in Wynonna’s truck and head off to see Gus and then return home to her wife and her life. And Waverly knows nothing would make her happier until the next year comes around again.

One trip down, hopefully many more to go.

Edited 2022-10-08 16:03 (UTC)

“This the place?”

Breanna looks over at Sophie with trepidation, and Sophie could understand why. Though it’s already evening, they can feel the heat of the desert rolling off the sands, and the statues and structures lit up by black light give the space an eerie sort of glow. But if this is where they need to find the man who can help them save their client, then this is what they have to do.

“Are you sure about this?”

“If this is where your friends at DedSec said he’d be, then I’m sure.” Sophie tips her head to the side. “Are you?”

“I guess I just didn’t think that Swelter Skelter was your scene?”

“Oh, darling, this is hardly my first rager.” She glimpses through the windshield of the car, taking in the costumes and making sure her look is on point. Then she flips down the window to smudge up her makeup a little more. “Besides, this is what the job requires. And when you do something you’re unaccustomed to, you adapt.”

“Right. Adapting. I can adapt.” Breanna takes a deep breath. “There’s also the fact that he’s probably going to be pretty stoned, so I don’t know how much useful information we’re going to get out of him.”

“Then we take him with us, and ask him when he’s sober.”

There’s a pause. “Sophie, that’s kidnapping.”

“It’s not kidnapping if it’s consensual.” Sophie pushes open the door of the car and starts making her way towards the rest of the party. “Watch and learn.”

Breanna shouts over her shoulder. “You’re terrifying, you know that?”

Sophie smirks as she continues to head out onto the sand. “So they continue to say.”

* * * * *

Finding Raymond Kenney really is the challenge in it all. For one, he’s not using his real name, and an alias can change—she would know. For two, everyone is in costume, and given that she’s not intimately familiar with his face, it might be hard to find it through the makeup and strobe lights. But, Sophie has recognized less familiar people in worse circumstances—she thinks she can manage this one. She and Breanna part ways as they make their way into the party, agreeing to send up a flare if they find their target.

It takes a little wandering, a few conversations going nowhere, and she spots a face that might be her man. Long shaggy hair, thick makeup, and a hat covering most of his face, but still. That’s close enough to the image provided. Giving her hair a bit of a fluff she strides her way over, offering a small smile.

“Have room for one more?”

There’s a process to these things. A rhythm that’s easy to fall into. He gives her the once over. She plays coy. He offers her a drink, and by round two, he’s spilling all of his dirty secrets—or that would be, but it’s hard to run the usual playbook when the mark cuts you off at the pass.

“You don’t seem like a Breanna.”

“I’m not.” Sophie tips her head to the side curiously. “But I am a friend of hers. I take it DedSec warned you we were coming.”

“Wrench isn’t usually one to hang a guy out to dry. Though he mentioned Breanna had a partner who gave hot and scary a whole new meaning.”

Sophie smiles, pleased that she left an impression. “I knew we were building a rapport.”

Ray laughs before tipping his head to the side. “Let’s take this out of the public eye, shall we?”

“Where are you?” Breanna’s voice came over the headset. “I’m stuck in a mosh pit.”

“Let’s,” Sophie nods, taking his offered hand to follow him away.

“Wait! Don’t go in there alone! We don’t know this guy.”

Sophie doesn’t respond to her and lets her instincts lead. Ray is someone they’re trying to make an ally of, not an enemy. And she’d like to think that he’s of the same intent. And if he turns out to be not who she thought he was, well. She has an exit for that, too. She lets Ray pull her off to a quiet corner of the party, and gestures for her to take a seat next to him.

“That’s a lot of trust to place in a stranger.”

“Well, trust is necessary if we’re going to be friends.”

“Is that why you’re here? To be friends, not pump me for information?”

“I need your help,” Sophie admits. “But I believe we’re on the same side. I’d hope that eventually, you saw the same.”

“And you’re making a pitch in the middle of all this?”

“I’m a tad unconventional. While I believe it’s important to set the scene, I also am the type to make do with what I’m handed.”

“And what exactly do you want from me?”

“We need information on your former employer.”

Ray raises an eyebrow before taking a swig of his beer. “Google is free.”

“You and I both know that Google doesn’t have the information we need.”

“That still sounds like a you problem.” Ray holds up his fingers. “You’ve clearly got some hackers on your side. Why don’t you have them hack away?”

“Oh, we’ve tried. Both Breanna and Hardison have been banging their heads against firewalls for weeks now. But I think I can persuade you to lend a hand.”

Ray tips his head to the side curiously. “And why would you say that?”

“Because you don’t strike me as the man who enjoys leaving a job unfinished. And if all goes according to plan, we stand to make quite a bit of money from this job.”

“You think money can persuade me?”

“I think the power to disappear can persuade you, and money affords you the ability to do that.”

“Funny that you jumped right over trying to argue about ‘doing the right thing.’”

“Oh, I think you tried doing the right thing, and it didn’t work out so well for you. I think if you were concerned about doing the right thing, you would already be dead because Blume would have already found you.”

“That’s a cold way of looking at things.”

“Is it wrong?” Sophie crosses one leg over the other as she resettles. “Come back with me. Hear Breanna and Hardison’s plan. If you don’t think it’s viable, then we part ways and you don’t have to risk yourself further.”

“Answer me one thing first.” He turns to face her more. “Why Blume? I’ve heard of your little crew. You go after the big guns, sure, but what made you want to take on Blume?”

“We have a client in need.” Sophie replies, because the answer is that simple. But also: “And, its predictive algorithms are causing big problems for us. Companies are starting to Leverage-proof themselves, and we can’t have them slipping out of trouble any more than they already are.”

“So you decide to chase the white whale.” Ray shakes his head. “I have to say—I admire the gumption. But I think all you’re going to do is get yourself killed.”

“The offer stands.” Sophie fishes out her card with her phone number and address for their headquarters on it. “If you decide you want to help, you know where to find us.”

Breanna appears at the entrance to their hidey hole, and Sophie gets to her feet to meet her. As the two of them make their way back to the car, Breanna glances at Sophie over the top of the car.

“Do you think he’ll bite?”

Sophie shrugs. “I think he’s intrigued. But whether he’ll bite is up to no one but him.”

“If he doesn’t—”

“We’ll find another way.” Sophie slides into the driver’s seat. “But I wouldn’t count our friend Mr. Kenney out yet.”

Let’s just hope that her intuition about people isn’t about to be proven wrong.

Recovering from possession is a process.

The shitty thing about demons is that they control every move, every word out of your mouth, every choice that you make, and they make you watch every word. There are moments, post-Dagon being ejected from his body, that he forgets he has control of his arms and legs again. The motor control doesn’t come back immediately. It takes time for him to remember how his body supposed to feel, for his coordination to return, for him to remember that he’s allowed to speak.

He doesn’t, for a while. Sure, there’s the occasional yes or no when Ezra is performing an examination—he’s a medical student, David learns. He also learns that if he doesn’t want to talk, Ezra is more than happy to fill the silence, as they sit side by side on matching motel beds, watching trash reality television.

(It’s Ezra’s fault he gets into Big Brother. He will deny it if ever called on it, but it is kind of addicting.)

There is a day, however, when his witch brain catches up with his human one, about the implications of being back in the world. That’s also the day when Ezra wakes up to David going through his stuff and is less than pleased about it.

“What the hell?”

“Sandalwood.” He discards that bag he’s dealing with—it had quickly become clear that it’s personal items like clothes and toiletries, not the spell supplies he’s looking for. “I need sandalwood.”

Ezra rises from the bed and makes his way closer. “You could have woken me up to ask.”

He doesn’t know how to explain that it doesn’t feel like there was any time. That the sudden realization that he’s exposed hit him, and he had to act before it was too late. So he says nothing and waits until Ezra hands him the vial of sandalwood he brought with him.

“Thank you.”

He takes the vial back to his side of the room, fishing a lighter out of his pocket as he heads into the bathroom. A few seconds later, the reassuring scent of burning wood fills the air and with a quick incantation he feels protected again, that the locator spells won’t be able to find him until he’s ready. He takes a breath, hands going to rest against his sink.

“A cloaking spell?”

David nods. Ezra clearly knows his stuff.

“Worried Dagon’s going to come looking.”

David shakes his head. “Worried my parents will.” The second he says it, he realizes it’s a silly fear. If his parents were actually looking for him, they would have been here already to reclaim him. Ezra seems confused by the statement, and David doesn’t wait for him to ask before continuing. “Do you know if there’s a tattoo shop near here?”

The supposed non sequitur knocks Ezra for a look again, before he nods. “I don’t know. I’d have to Google it?”

“Great. Let’s do that.” Another second before his logical brain catches up with survival impulse. “I don’t have any money.”

Ezra nods. “Why do we need a tattoo artist?”

“Because I don’t want to be possessed again, and that’s the most effective way to do that.”

“Fair. That is an entirely fair thing to want.” Ezra nods slowly. “And you don’t want to wait until you’re back to your life and get the money then.”

“If you mean do I want to give my parents a chance to get me possessed again, then the answer is no.”

Ezra’s eyes widen, taking in the weight of that statement, before nodding once. “Okay. Let’s talk to Damian.”

“Why?”

“Because Damian is currently on the hook to bring you back. And he’s pretty rich. So I think if we explain the situation, he’ll be willing to add it to his expenses if it’s the only way you’re going to go back.”

David takes in this new information and tries to think of it logically, rather than emotionally. The panic that rises when he finds out that one of his saviors was hired by his parents to bring him back to the colony is damn near choking but he swallows it, trying to answer the rational questions he needs to know if he can trust this situation.

“How do I know he won’t knock me out, throw me in the trunk, and drive me home against my will?”

“I won’t let him.”

The answer is too easy. “How do I know if I can trust you?”

“I guess you don’t.” Ezra reaches over to seal up what remains of the sandalwood. “We could do a spell. Bind my intention to yours. Make a blood pact. There are a lot of options. But I haven’t betrayed your trust yet. So, aside from your current life circumstances, which I won’t deny are pretty shitty, you also have no reason not to.”

David swallows hard before nodding. Fine. He can do this. He can put his life in other people’s hands for this brief suggestion. And if it backfires on him, well, he’ll just kill them both later.

He briefly recognizes how much like Dagon that thought is and swallows it down. Maybe it’ll take a bit more than a tattoo to have him ready to be back in the world.

* * * * *

Damien, fortunately, agrees to the tattoo once he gets the full story. He also is willing to just tell David’s parents that he lost the target, which means he doesn’t get paid, but he also doesn’t have to be a dick either. It’s a win-win all around.

Except because David is free, but he has nowhere to go.

He thinks, briefly, about calling Jaqueline or Sierra, but there’s no guarantee that the two of them won’t turn him in to the rest of the Colony. It’s been years since he’s spoken to either of them, and he has no reason to believe they’ll be loyal to him over the machine.

He could be alone, but he hasn’t been alone with his own thoughts in just as long. That way lies madness, and he doesn’t know what to do.

“So where are you going?” he asks Ezra, picking at the medical tape and gauze over his new Devil’s trap tattoo.

“Back to med school, probably. Don’t pick at that.” Ezra swats his hand away from his chest.

“It itches.”

“What are you, five?”

No, but sometimes he still felt eighteen. That his brain hasn’t caught up to the twenty-three it should be. “Where’s med school?”

“California.” Ezra raises an eyebrow as he zips up his bag. “Why?”

David drums his fingers against his leg. “Can I come with you?”

Ezra squints at him. “At the risk of repeating myself, why?”

“I don’t really want to be alone? And I don’t want to go home. Those seem to be my only two options at the moment.” David pauses before looking up at him. “I’ll get a job and earn my keep, I swear. Buy all my food, save up to get my own place. I’ll try to be out of your hair as fast as I can. I just … I don’t want to lose my shit, and I feel like if I’m left to my own devices, that’s what will happen.”

Ezra pinches the bridge of his nose, almost as though David is trying the edge of his patience. David can definitely understand that. But Ezra’s been nice enough to him so far. Maybe he can push it just a little further.

“I can’t afford to buy you a plane ticket.”

“Oh. We don’t need a plane ticket.”

Ezra squints. “We’re in the middle of Texas. Unless you plan to drive the hundreds of miles back to California, I think we’re going to need to fly.”

“Not when you’re a Gainor.” He grins at him before bouncing to his feet, like a kid who’s about to show off a pretty cool magic trick. “What’s the address of your place? Or the address of something nearby.”

Ezra still doesn’t seem convinced, but he’ll go with it, for now. He rambles off an address, and David plugs it into his new smartphone. “It’s the Chinese place down the street.”

David nods as he zooms in on the street view images, focusing on the distinctive door, as well as the interior of the restaurant. He walks over to the bathroom door, closes it, and after a moment of brief concentration, opens it again to reveal the Chinese restaurant on the other side. Ezra blinks in surprise.

“Is that some kind of illusion?” Ezra steps forward, before stepping through and out into the restaurant, staring as all the customers move around him, somehow oblivious to the door that’s currently leading into a motel room. He quickly retreats into the motel, gesturing for David to close the door behind him, and then looks up at him in surprise. “You could have done that at any time.”

“As long as I know what the door looks like, and can picture where I’m going. It makes it hard to just randomly exit, but if I know there’s somewhere safe that I can go, yeah.”

Ezra reconsiders him again. “You really have nowhere to go.” David nods, and Ezra sighs, before reaching for his bags again. “You will contribute to rent, you will not eat my food, and we will have a chore wheel. Deal?”

“Deal.” David nods, relief flowing through him. If nothing else, he won’t be alone.

* * * * *

Miracle of miracles, David and Ezra don’t kill each other within the week. There’s obviously growing pains, but David is a considerate roommate, and does his best to hold up his end of the bargain. He gets a full time retail job at the local grocery store, where he stacks boxes and stocks shelves and no one looks at him sideways.

He and Ezra also start getting closer. Before long, it frees him up to talk about real things, things that matter, and Ezra opens up about himself. His mom, his life, his issues with his own coven. It feels like a genuine friendship. Then it is more than friendship, and as much as David is a little gun-shy, it’s something he’s choosing for himself. Repeatedly, he continues making choices for the things he wants, not his parents, not the demon inhabiting his body. It feels good to have control over his own life.

Part of him thinks he might never go home. Unfortunately, that part of him is quickly stabbed through the heart, the day Jaqueline finds him in the produce section of Trader Joes when he’s trying to restock the arugula.

She has changed little in the years he’s been gone. Her look is a little more polished, but she’s still the Jaqueline he knows and remembers, down to the death stare she gives him when he finally meets her eyes.

“Jaq. What are you—”

“I didn’t find you. I found your boyfriend. In case that was your next question.” Jaqueline tilts her head to the side. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing here, David? You need to come home.”

“I don’t want to.” David tries to leave it at that, grabbing the empty cardboard boxes and breaking them down, but Jaqueline rips one out of his hands with a glare.

“Are you shitting me?” Her eyes are burning. “What are you, some kind of child? You have responsibilities. To your family—”

“You mean the family that got me possessed?”

“To me.” That seems to stall him out, and she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Or did you forget our engagement while you were banging your hot doctor?”

David glances back towards the produce. “Do you actually want to marry me? Like, honestly, Jaq.”

“Since when has what we wanted ever mattered one flying fuck?”

“Maybe it should,” he points out. “Maybe what we want should be all that matters, and our parents should just suck it up.”

Jaqueline sets her jaw. He knows he struck a cord, but she isn’t here to admit that he’s right. She’s here to tow the Colony line. “Christ, both of you have lost your damn minds.” He’s about to ask her who else, but she doesn’t give him the chance. “You know that isn’t an option. It’s either the Colony’s way, or death and while you have some insulation given that you’re the last in the Gainor line, not all of us are so lucky.” She steps in closer, pinning him against the produce bins behind him. “And you know that if they can’t kill you, they’ll find other things to kill to make you obey.”

The statement washes over David like a cold shower. She’s always known how to poke at the soft parts of him, and he knows she’s doing it as a kindness. To impress upon him the reality of the situation he’s in.

She takes a step back and slides her hands into her pockets, pulling out a letter and placing it in his hands. “From your mother. Your grandfather is dead. Your father is ascending, and if you’re not back in time for the ceremony, they will drag you back. No matter how much blood it takes.”

* * * * *

He still hasn’t read the letter by the time Ezra gets home from his shift at the hospital. He’s an intern, now, which means the time they have together is limited, but David already quit his job that morning, so it’s not like he has any reason to be asleep. Ezra seems surprised, though, and frowns at him as he steps in the door to find him sitting on the couch, bags packed.

“What are you doing up? Don’t you have an early shift?”

“I quit.” David drums his fingers against his legs. “My grandfather died. I have to go home.”

Ezra blinks. “How did you find out?”

“My—” How to explain Jaqueline in a way that doesn’t make it sound like he’s been cheating on someone by being with Ezra. “It’s a long story, but this girl that I was supposed to marry. She found me.”

Ezra crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I think I’m going to need to hear that long story.”

“I don’t think the long story really matters unless you come back with me.”

Ezra takes a step back, studying him for a long time in silence. David can see the wheels spinning, knows him well enough by now that he’s trying to choose his answer to the challenge carefully, not wanting to start a fight that will make things worse.

“You want me to come back with you to the fucking Colony.”

“Yes, I do.” Fingers drum against his thigh, a nervous habit he’s going to have to quell once he’s back in the lion’s den. You can’t show weakness if you want to survive. He knows that already. “It’s not just for a funeral. My father is ascending to the head of the family. If I don’t come back willingly, they’ll force my hand in how they know best.”

It doesn’t matter who Ezra is; the Colony is more. They eradicate whole covens when they want to. David’s seen it—David’s participated.

“They threatened to kill me.”

“More or less.”

“How do you know they won’t, anyway?”

“Because after you no longer have my attention, you’ll cease to matter. At least in their eyes.” He doesn’t know for sure that’s true. His mother has always been a little vindictive, enjoyed breaking his toys to prove a point. He can’t say she wouldn’t do the same here. But he wants to believe that getting what she wants will sweep away everything else. “It’s my father’s name—my name on the line. Nothing else.”

“And you want me to walk into that? Willingly.”

David runs a hand over his face. “I don’t want this to be over. And if you don’t come back with me, it will have to be. I need—I want to keep something that I chose before they decide to make every other choice for me again. And your mother—she’s not no one, by Colony standards. I can sell this as a good match.”

Jaqueline will get jilted, but he still thinks he’d be doing her a favor.

“Match. Like marriage? David, we barely know each other.”

“I feel you know me better than anyone else does. And we won’t have to do it right away. We can buy time. A long engagement.”

“And if it doesn’t work out?”

“I’m sure my parents will be thrilled. But I’ll make sure you’re able to walk away free and clear.”

Ezra rubs his eyes, processing the weight of this. “I can’t—I need to think about this. You can’t just dump this question on me and expect an immediate answer.”

“Okay.” David nods. “Ascension is Thursday, so…you have two days. Otherwise, I’ll assume it’s not, and I’ll go.”

Ezra takes a deep breath, hands on his hips. “Would I still be able to complete my internship? Have my residency wherever I want?”

“I can open you a door to anywhere.”

He’s silent for a long moment before heading into the kitchen. David squints as he watches him go.

“What are you doing?”

“Making coffee.” Ezra starts the pot before turning to face him again. “You are going to tell me everything. All of it. No secrets. And after this, there are no more secrets between us. That’s the only way being in there together is going to work.”

“Deal.” David nods. He trusts him, now. He’ll tell Ezra whatever he wants to know. Part of him just hopes it’s enough.

In the beginning, it’s Julian and Eve.

The story doesn’t always get it right. The Garden isn’t a Garden, and the apple isn’t an apple. It’s still knowledge, that Eve steals. It’s still power that she reaches for, dark magics that twist and turns her into something no longer human. Given that she’s the first of her kind, she’s still malleable. She can make herself into something new. What they don’t realize, however, is how malleable.

And when God turns her sons against each other, she finds out.

That’s when the Garden turns from an archive to a prison, and its keeper from a librarian to a jailer. Julian isn’t made for containment. His sympathies, his empathy make for a weak will and soon they implement a different type of guardianship.

For as long as blood is spilled, or an angel sits on the throne, the prison will remain secure. But a person can only be stone for so long before they ache for more, and eventually, Julian abandons his post.

Eve always knew he would. And she knows that it’s only a matter of time before she’s free.

Freedom comes as Waverly and Bobo, an unexpected pair. The daughter of Eve’s jailer allows her to slip through the door, and Julian’s murderer becomes his new prisoner. It’s a quaint little arrangement, but Eve doesn’t stick around long enough to find out how well it will go for them.

She has much better things to do.

* * * * *

In the middle, it’s Waverly and Bobo.

It’s an accident, really, that they both end up here. Bobo runs reaching for salvation, to the promised paradise they all believed the Garden should be, and Waverly runs after him, everything in her blood calling for justice (vengeance) and action. She doesn’t expect for the door to close behind her. She doesn’t expect to be trapped, called to by the throne, intended to seal her fate. She doesn’t expect to become warden to the person she’d most like to kill.

Killing doesn’t come naturally to Waverly, never has. Part of her wonders if it’s this angelic part of herself she’s awakened, that wants to right the wrongs, or is just responding to the demon in him and wanting to wipe it out.

(Or maybe it’s rage. Rage is new for Waverly, but it might be a feeling she likes.)

Unfortunately for her, the object of her ire sits just out of her reach, behind bars that she can’t cross. But it’s fine. Wynonna will come for her. They can leave Bobo behind, and she’ll never have to see his face again.

Until she does, Waverly stares at the stone seat in the distance, listening as it calls to her but doing her best not to give in. It promises her comfort, silence and accomplishment, rather than the uncertainty of the waking world. Each day she inches closer, and every time, Bobo’s voice draws her back.

“Waverly, don’t you touch that rock.”

She rolls her eyes and retreats down under the Garden, away from the doors and back to the prisoner. It’s become easier and easier to think of him as that, to forget his name and remember only that he’s being punished for the things he’s done.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to understand what that chair is asking of you.”

Waverly rolls his eyes. “It’s a chair. It can’t ask anything of me.”

“It’s not a chair. It’s a duty. A promise. And you don’t know what you’re giving away.”

“And you do?” Waverly tips her head to the side as she makes her way closer. “Last I checked, you were the one fighting for the other side.”

“The other side, but still your side. I’ve always been on your side, Waverly.”

“You killed my father, and you want to tell me you’re on my side?” Waverly shakes her head and walks away, not ready to have this conversation with now, if at all. “Shut up, Bobo. As far as far as I care, you can rot.”

Bobo presses up against the barrier as Waverly turns to leave, pounding on it to get her attention. “Juan Carlo told me about the Garden. He told me about the rules. Don’t give yourself away to them, Waverly.”

Waverly sets her jaw and continues back up to the stone seat. She’ll wait for Wynonna out of range of him. And when Wynonna comes to save her, she’ll leave Bobo and never look back.

* * * * *

The longer she waits for Wynonna, the more the chair calls to her, and the harder it becomes to resist. Bobo yells at her to save herself, and it’s not like she hasn’t tried. She studies the doors but can’t figure out which one is the proper way out. The more she studies the Garden, the more she understands that it’s a nexus. Heaven, Hell, other planes, and home. One of them is home, to Nicole and Wynonna and all the people she loves, but she doesn’t have the strength to hope for it anymore.

Her limbs are heavy, her will, weak. She’s so tired. Perhaps she should sit, just for a little while.

“Waverly think! For once! I know you’re smarter than this!”

She is smarter than that. She knows that if something is trying this hard to get her to sit on it, it’s probably a bad chair. But she can’t keep going, not like this. Maybe if she just sits, just for a little while.

“Waverly, if you sit on that chair, you will turn to stone.”

Waverly pauses, hand freezing in midair as she weighs the wait of that statement. Then she swallows hard. “Better to be stone than trapped for an eternity with you.”

It’s in that moment that she makes the decision. She steps forward, reaching for the seat and settling comfortably into it. Despite being made of stone, it’s like sinking into a warm bed, something familiar welcoming her home after being empty for so long.

She relaxes, closing her eyes and drowning out the protests beneath her. And when she opens her eyes again, Waverly has left the building.

But that doesn’t mean the angel isn’t here to play.

Tom Avery is not, as a general rule, an impulsive guy.

In fact, he’s pretty sure the words to describe him would more fall along the lines of “steady,” “clear headed” and “reliable.” When you’re a paramedic, you need to react quickly, but that doesn’t mean you should react recklessly. Tom is good at his job because he thinks clearly, reacts in a timely manner, and doesn’t look at this job as an excuse for an adrenaline rush.

(Even if it absolutely is.)

But sometimes…sometimes, Tom wishes he was that guy. Usually for the romance department.

He catches his partner checking his hair in the ambulance rearview and raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Something stuck in your teeth, Palmer?”

He snorts. “No. It’s New Intern Day. I’m trying to make an impression.”

Tom looks at him skeptically for a long moment. “And this differs from any other day because?”

“Because at the end of shift, the lovely new interns are going to come out of that room, high on their first day of saving lives and doing procedures on real live people, and they’re going to want to celebrate their success or drown their failures, and either way, I’ll win.” Palmer flashes him a grin. “I’m looking to make a good impression before they get started.”

Tom stares at him for a moment before shaking his head. “You are the peak of gallantry and charm, Palmer.”

“You’re just mad because you didn’t think of it first.” Palmer hops out and pats him on the chest. “C’mon, I want to get some coffee and do a lap before we get a call.”

“Yeah, you go ahead.” Tom follows him into the hospital, but parks at the nurse’s desk with a sigh. “I think I’ll pass on the peacocking.”

“Suit yourself. Coffee for the road?”

“Please.” He glances over at Maria Ramirez, the nurse behind the desk, and she rolls her eyes.

“New Intern Day?”

“Oh, so it’s a national holiday? I thought Palmer just made that up for his own amusement.”

Maria shakes her head. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Tom. If I had to be stuck with him in a car for twelve hours at a time, I would have killed him by now.”

“He grows on you. Kind of like a fungus.”

Maria looks like she’s about to say something when a third voice comes up next to him. “Nurse Ramirez?”

Tom turns and the person next to him stops him in his tracks, just for a moment. Long dark hair, pulled up in a ponytail, pretty face, dark eyes—in the usual doctor’s garb, logically, there’s nothing about her that should have packed such a wallop, but there’s also something about her that’s familiar that draws him in closer. He stares as she continues, not realizing how uncomfortably he must act until he tunes back in on her words.

“…Mr. Gonzalez, in Curtain Four? I was checking on his history, and the attending said to confirm the drugs that were given to him in the ambulance?”

“Well, you’re in luck.” Maria points to the man next to her. “Tom is the one who brought him in.”

Tom blinks once at the sound of his name before shaking it off. The new intern turning on him in full force is no less jarring, but he keeps his composure this time. “Hi. Tom. Avery.”

Great job, Avery. Excellent start.

“Elena. Or Dr. Gilbert, I guess. It’s still new.” She blinks at him for a moment, then her brow furrows. “I’m sorry. Have we met before? You seem really familiar.”

“Uh, no. Don’t think so.” He would have remembered her. And maybe he wouldn’t be acting like such an idiot. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“Right. Sorry. So Mr. Gonzalez—”

“Heart attack. He was conscious when we got there, so we administered a glucose, insulin and potassium solution to help feed the heart and monitored him on the way in—he was doing fine, stayed conscious and responsive the whole time.”

“Right. That’s what it said.” Elena tucks her hair behind her ear. “But I thought the standard procedure for a heart attack was aspirin and nitroglycerin.”

“It is, but we’re taking part in a study that’s testing it for people who are fairly early in symptoms and it’s been working pretty well.”

“Got it. Okay. Then … thanks. I should—” She jerks a thumb back over her shoulder towards the patient and Tom nods.

“Of course. Nice meeting you, Dr. Gilbert. Welcome to Emory.” He catches sight of Palmer appearing with his coffee and breaks off, heading to cut him off at the pass. Palmer grins as he approaches, however, and he knows he’s been spotted.

“See what I mean? New Intern Day is totally a thing.”

Tom takes his coffee and shakes his head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

* * * * *

Palmer drags him out to Bree’s at the end of the shift, and Tom goes only semi-reluctantly, because it has been a long day, and he could use the drink. After ordering the first round of beers, Palmer brings over two of the interns, one of them being Elena and the other, a young man who introduces himself as Rhodes, and clearly only has eyes for Tom’s partner. After casually chatting about their day, Rhodes and Palmer break off to play darts, and Elena turns back to Tom with a curious expression.

She leans in across the table so he can hear her over the noise of the bar. “I think I’ve figured out where I’ve seen you before. Have you ever heard of Mystic Falls, Virginia?”

Tom blinks before shaking his head. “Nope. Never heard of it.”

“It’s this tiny little town in Virginia. I grew up there. It’s big into the Civil War history stuff and founding families and it’s all really not important.” He can sense, from the way she’s trying to brush it off, that it’s important to her, but he doesn’t push. “Anyway, there’s this one founding family called the Salvatores. And if I didn’t know for sure that he died like … a hundred and fifty years ago, I would swear that you’re a dead ringer for Stefan Salvatore.”

That explanation is far more specific than he actually thought it would be. It leaves him taken aback and her face drops.

“Oh, God. Sorry, that was too much.”

“No. No, I just didn’t expect you to be that…specific.”

“Fair. And also, it’s one of those really old types of photographs that we have of him, so who knows how accurate they actually are?” Elena shrugs. “My mom’s big into the town history stuff. It’s kind of what you get when you marry into the Founding Families.”

He nods. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. My mom did one of those 23 and Me things a while ago, and we traced back pretty far, but I don’t think Salvatore was on it.”

“Makes sense. And Stefan died when he was like…seventeen or something. Both him and his brother, Damon. It’s actually a really sad story.” Elena takes a swig of her drink. “Anyway. I’ll stop rambling about weird small town history now.”

“No, it’s okay. It seems like you’re really into it.”

“I guess I am, kind of.” Elena shrugs. “Still a lot for an ‘I met you today’ conversation, though.”

“Fair enough.” Tom glances over in the dartboard's direction and Palmer and Rhodes seem to have abandoned their game for an aggressive level of flirting, and he shakes his head. “I really don’t know how he does it.”

Elena follows his eyeline and laughs. “From what I remember about Rhodes from med school, I think he can take it and dish it right back.”

“That’s comforting, at least.” Tom glances back to her. Even with the weird coincidence, he still wants to get to know her better. “But at least that gives us the chance to talk more?”

“Yeah,” Elena nods as the next round comes closer. “That sounds good.”

Edited 2022-10-08 18:28 (UTC)

* * * * *

Talking with Elena comes naturally, and as they bounce between topics. Palmer and Rhodes continue their fling, so it leads to a lot of nights at Bree’s where Elena and Tom get the chance to hang out while they pretend they’re not on a date. If Tom didn’t like Elena so much—more and more each time they talk—it might annoy him. But since Elena also doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t protest too much.

One night, however, after a rough shift, he finds her sitting on a bench outside the hospital. The chaos from an earlier massive pileup on one interstate put Tom and Palmer in the position of passing off the ambulance at the hospital, rather than the fire house. As he makes his way out of the front door, he finds Elena sitting on the bench, looking a little wrecked.

“Hey,” he says softly, and as she looks up, she brushes the tears from her cheeks.

“Hey. Sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Today was rough.”

Elena nods, letting out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Today was really rough.”

Tom watches her for a minute, before nodding towards the street. “C’mon. I know a great place for Bad Day Pancakes.”

Elena raises an eyebrow. “Bad Day Pancakes.”

“The pancakes you have on a bad day, so your day doesn’t end on so shitty a note.” Tom offers a hand out to her. “If that works for you?”

Elena offers him a small smile and takes his hand to get to her feet. “Yeah. I think Bad Day Pancakes sounds great.”

He takes her to a diner close to the hospital that’s frequented by more than a few familiar faces. After they’re seated and have ordered their pancakes, he leans back in the seat. “You want to talk about it?”

Elena shakes her head. “It’s nothing I haven’t had to do before. It’s not the first time I’ve had to declare someone dead or make tough calls, but…it is the first time I’ve had to do all of it at once, in such a short period. It was a little overwhelming.”

“I get that,” Tom nods. “It was rough on my end, too. With a wreck like that, sometimes you can’t get to them quickly. Wait for the firefighters and the cops to do their job first, and each time you do, you’re losing time.”

Elena nods. “They told us all of this in med school, but … I guess this is the first time it really sunk in. Made me question if I really can do this.”

Tom nods. The pancakes arrive, and he sits back for the server to put them down before answering the question. “What might you be doing if you weren’t?”

“I used to want to be a writer, and was thinking about journalism for a while.”

“What made you change to medicine?”

“Journalism requires you to be impartial. And you’re coming in after the fact a lot of the time. After the hurt’s been done. And maybe you can stop it from hurting other people with an exposé, but it’s not…not the same. Not really. But as a doctor, I can really help people. Figure out what’s wrong and help fix it. That seemed a lot more…fulfilling.” She plays with her fork, before picking up her knife to start to cut in to the pancakes in front of her. “What about you? Why paramedic?”

“Same reason. I wanted to help people. I didn’t really have the grades for med school, but I had a good memory for procedure and I’m good under pressure. I started out on the firefighter side of things, but they had me fill in on the ambulance one day, and the rest is history.”

“Ever thought about trying to go back to med school?”

He shakes his head. “I’m bad at tests. Which is funny, when I say that I’m good under pressure, I know. But it’s one thing to recognize the symptoms of anaphylaxis and know to reach for an epi pen, versus reading a question on paper—it’s like all the right answers suddenly run out of my brain and I can’t remember any of it.”

Elena nods. “Articulating it into words is way different from reacting in the moment. I get it.”

“Do you think you’ll work in hospitals forever?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Part of me likes it, you know? The rush of needing to react quickly and dealing with a lot of patients at once. It’s great for learning, but …” Her face looks briefly wistful. “Part of me also wants to go back to Mystic Falls and take over my dad’s practice one day. Give him someone to pass it on to when he’s ready to retire. But I guess I’m just sentimental like that. Who knows where time will go?”

It makes sense. But part of him warms to the idea of living in a small little town where everyone knows everyone. He’s never really had that, but maybe it might be nice if he was doing it with the right person. Elena’s fork finally sinks into the meal in front of her, and as she pops the first bite in her mouth, he watches the look of surprise on her face when the taste hits her.

“Oh, my god. Those may be the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.”

“See?” Tom grins as he digs into his. “Bad Day Pancakes never steer you wrong.”

After they’ve finished their pancakes, Tom walks her back to her car, and he slides his hands in his pockets. He knows he just needs to spit it out, hopefully in a way that doesn’t make him sound like an asshole, but there’s still that pit in his stomach that worries about the potential rejection. Swallowing hard, he takes a step forward as she opens her door.

“Hey, Elena—would you maybe want to have dinner sometime?”

Her head pops up over the top of the car, and a slow smile crosses her face. “You mean like a date?”

Tom feels his cheeks burn. Why is he so bad at this? What is he, twelve? He’s a grown adult. He should be able to ask a beautiful woman on a date. “Yeah. Like a date. If you want.”

“Tom Avery, I have only been sending out ‘I want to date you’ vibes every time we hang out.” She grins and an awkward, relieved laugh bubbles up from his chest as she continues. “I would love to have dinner with you.”

“Great,” he nods. “Good. Because I would also love that.”

Elena’s smile widens, and she goes to slide back into her car. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He steps back, giving her room to pull out of the spot, and once her car disappears onto the street and slumps back against the car behind him. It’s a relief, but he also can’t stop the smile planted on his face as he goes to call himself an uber to take him back to the firehouse.

Today is a new day, and it’s already looking up. If only he noticed the eyes watching him from across the street.

* * * * *

They keep it fairly casual for their first date, heading over to Bree’s for dinner and drinks and maybe some pool. Mostly, it seems to go well, just like their usual hang outs but better. The air is charged with potential, and while he’s trying not to rush anything, Tom is more than ready to see what happens next.

He steps away from the pool table while she’s racking the balls to get refills for their drinks, and while he’s waiting, a smooth voice appears over his shoulder.

“Well, hello brother.”

Tom would have ignored it if the man speaking didn’t physically put himself in Tom’s personal space. He’s tall, with dark hair and striking eyes—handsome, if Tom were into that. But given that Tom has never seen him before in his life, he takes an awkward step back.

“Sorry. I think you have the wrong guy.”

He seems confused at that, before his eyebrows go up. “Oh, we’re playing that game, are we? You’re not still pissed about what happened in ’94, are you?”

Tom blinks again. “Dude, I’m trying to be polite here, but I have no idea who you are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

That seems to make him angry, and when Tom tries to step away with his fresh drinks, the stranger takes hold of his arm and grips it tightly—too tightly. He’s surprised his arm doesn’t break under the pressure.

“This isn’t funny, Stefan.”

“My name isn’t Stefan.” His voice sounds pained. “You’re hurting me. Please let me go.”

“Damon!” Bree snaps from behind the bar, but Damon, whoever he is, doesn’t let go. Not until Elena steps up behind him and seems to throw him for an even bigger loop.

“Is everything okay?”

“Katherine?” Damon finally lets go of his arm, and Tom stumbles back and feels Elena’s hand against his back to steady him.

“No. My name’s Elena.”

Damon’s face goes from shock to fury in a second and he steps back into their space. Tom straightens, putting himself in the space between Damon and Elena on instinct. Unfortunately, it means he makes direct eye contact with Damon, and that’s when things go hazy.

“Tell me who you are. Everything.”

“My name is Tom Avery. I’m twenty-five years-old. I was born in Savannah, Georgia—” He keeps going, unable to stop himself as all these personal details start flowing out of his mouth, unable to stop them. He’s dangerously close to rambling off his social security number when Bree intervenes again.

“Damon, stop!”

Damon breaks eye contact and steps backwards and Tom practically collapses back into the bar, but Elena catches him. His head is throbbing, and he almost misses the words, determined but barely over a whisper:

“You’re a vampire.”

Damon’s eyes snap to Elena while Tom is trying to make sense of that statement. “You’re making my head hurt. Did you say vampire?”

“So you do know about vampires.” Damon steps in towards Elena again and Tom tries to rally.

“You can’t compel me. I’m on vervain.” Her jaw sets. “I’m a Gilbert. A Mystic Falls Gilbert. Of course, I know about vampires.”

Those words seem to mean something to Damon, and a slow smile slips across his face. “Well, isn’t that a surprise? Damon Salvatore, at your service.” Tom catches a glare from Bree out of the corner of her eye, and Damon holds up his hands, preparing to walk away. “Guess we’ll talk again soon, Mystic Falls Gilbert.”

He moves towards the door, then turns back to Tom as he does. “I’d be careful about inviting that one in, Tom Avery. Just in case.”

The tension in the room holds until the door closes behind Damon, and Bree exchanges a glance with another woman down the bar. She looks at the two of them—really looks at them for the first time in all the years that Tom has been drinking in her bar—and sighs.

“Alright, you two. I think we need to have a little talk.”

Edited 2022-10-12 22:30 (UTC)

Speed dating is really not Stefan Salvatore’s scene.

At all. Ever.

If one were to ask him how he found himself in the middle of a speed dating event, he honestly wouldn’t have a suitable answer for you. He was bamboozled. Hoodwinked. And while he does, occasionally, like to spend time with people he doesn’t know, there’s something about this situation that makes him feel like he was compelled somehow, despite the fact that unless an Original is coming out to play, vampires can’t be compelled.

Still, it’s not a bad way to spend an evening. Make some new friends in Scotland. Settle in a little more to the new life he’s made for himself for the next decade.

The first few dates that pass his table are easy enough, charming in a way that isn’t awkward, though some take things a bit too far. It isn’t until about halfway through the evening that things look up.

Sitting across from him is a bubbly blond. Not usually his type, Rebekah was more of an ice queen in that respect, but there’s something about her that catches his interest right away. “Hi. I’m Stefan.”

“Buffy,” she says, extending a hand. “You’re new.”

He raises an eyebrow as he shakes hers. “Do you come to speed dating often?”

“I wouldn’t classify it as ‘often,’ exactly. Or ‘frequent.’ Or any of the words that may imply that I do this on a semi-regular basis, well enough to recognize the other regulars.” The babble is endearing, and he smiles as she continues. “Okay, I might be a repeat offender. But I have a really demanding job that requires a lot of travel and deals with many people not my age, so sometimes it’s nice to just … go out and have some adult conversation. At least for a little while.”

“Fair enough. What do you do?”

“I run a multinational program for women. Training, job placement, all that good stuff. We have branches all over the world, hence the travel.”

“Ah. That sounds demanding.”

“It is. But I love it. It really gives me a feeling of purpose, you know?”

“I do.” Stefan’s been lacking that for a while. It’s part of the reason he’s in Scotland, if he’s honest. Looking for the next phase of his life. “Have you been living in Scotland long?”

“A while, yeah, but I’m originally from California. You?”

“Virginia.”

“Do you miss it?”

He shakes his head. “I’m home often enough. And aside from visiting my brother and some friends, there’s not really much left for me there as far as what you were saying. Purpose.”

“Seems like you’re going a long way for a purpose.”

“Well, I’ve looked a lot of other places and haven’t really found it. Felt it was best to start expanding my horizons.”

The bell rings, and Buffy frowns. “Guess that’s time. Nice meeting you, Stefan.”

“Yeah, you too, Buffy.” His eyes follow her as she moves to the next table, and he makes a note to himself. He’ll have to remember to get her number later.

* * * * *

Stefan gets her number, and they have dinner, only occasionally interrupted by the occasional work trip for Buffy. A few dinners in, they swap last names—Salvatore and Summers—and Stefan invites her to dinner at his apartment. He volunteers to cook.

Yes, it might be his go-to move, but it’s a good move. He won’t apologize for it.

He’s just putting the finishing touches on the chicken parmesan and opening the wine to breathe when there’s a knock on the door. Glancing down at his watch and surprised that Buffy seems on time tonight, he makes his way to the door to open it. He does not find Buffy on the other side. Instead, he finds a tall man with bleach blond hair, almost a Billy Idol sort of vibe, and a far too pleased expression on his face.

“Sorry—who are you?”

“You’re about to have a real bad day, mate.”

Then he charges forward, and it almost appears he runs headfirst into an invisible barrier. Stefan’s head tips to the side, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What the hell?” The man protests. “You’re a vampire.”

Stefan’s eyebrows go up further, because that’s a bold assumption for someone he doesn’t know to make. But given that this man seems to be a vampire too, it seems like it’s safe to play with the gloves off. “Yes, and like any vampire worth his salt, my name isn’t on the lease.”

“Oh.” A beat. “You can do that?”

Stefan shrugs in return, before he looks past the man on his floor to the woman behind it. Buffy stands, dressed a little more comfortably than she has been for their previous dates, and he frowns. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She straightens a bit. “We should talk.”

“We should.” Stefan steps back, giving her some room to move past him. “Dinner’s ready, if you still want to eat?”

“Buffy,” the vampire from the floor warns, and he bounces back up to his feet. “She’s only going in there if I’m coming in with her.”

“The person on the lease isn’t in town, so I can’t invite you in.” Stefan replies. “We can take this somewhere else, if you find that easier.”

“No. We’ll be fine here.” Buffy looks back at the vampire with a nod. “I’ll be fine, Spike.”

He doesn’t look pleased by this decision, but he nods. “Fine. Call me when you’re done.”

“I will.”

Stefan waits for her to come into the apartment fully before closing the door behind her. “Can I take your coat?”

She nods, sliding off the sensible leather jacket, and he can feel the weight of the stakes inside as he hangs it on the hook near the door. She makes her way into the kitchen and looks over the romantic setting he spent the evening arranging. “It smells delicious.”

“It is one of my favorite moves.”

“Romantically, or is this your preferred way to hunt?” Buffy crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Because I have to admit, it was a bit of a shock to find out I was preparing to cozy up to the Ripper of Monterrey.”

Stefan winces at the title before shaking his head. “That was me a long time ago. That isn’t me now.”

Buffy nods. “A lot of them say that. It’s hard to really confirm for sure. Especially with your kind of vampire.” She moves, resting her hands on the back of the chair. “It’s not a simple call of soul or no soul. You go out during the day, you eat, you drink. It’s almost like you’re—”

“People? Because we are. Occasionally very fucked up people but … that’s what happens when you’re cursed with the need to feed on blood and heightened emotions.” Stefan stands across from her, mirroring her stance at the table. “I’m not going to say that I haven’t made mistakes, because I have. But my blood issues are much more under control than they used to be.” That one sentence, soul or no soul, strikes a cord with him, though he doesn’t know why. “How do you know all this about vampires? Are you a hunter?”

“I’m a Slayer,” she replies simply. “In all honesty, I’m the Slayer.”

Buffy Summers. It all makes sense now. Running a hand over his face, he turns away from the table to regroup. It’s not as though this matters to him, really. But he also doesn’t want to get staked in his sleep by the woman he is hoping would be his girlfriend.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Stefan points out. “But yes, eventually. It’s not something you can really keep a secret, but on the initial dates, it doesn’t always make sense.”

Buffy nods. “Same. Eventually. When I was sure whether you could handle it.”

“Guess we both know now.” Whether they could handle it is still up in the air.

“Maybe it’s best if we part ways here. Before things get more…complicated.”

He watches her face before shaking his head. “I don’t want to do that.” He won’t deny that this is awkward. “But if that’s what you want, I understand.”

“I don’t want to do that either. Maybe.”

Stefan nods, before reaching forward for the empty wine glasses. “Then why don’t we just … eat? Start over. And if by the end of the night we decide it's best if we part ways, we do. But if it works…”

“If it works, it works.” Buffy smiles. “I can work with that.”

“Good.”

“Also, we should eat right now because this smells too good and I need to shove it in my face.”

Stefan laughs, before nodding. “The lady’s wish is my command.”

Freya steps into the tavern, and a hush goes over the crowd, just for a moment. They all take their time to give her the customary once over, make her aware of the disdain of her appearance in this space that is Not for Her, and then go back to their drinks and sludge. Finn winds around her ankles in a show of solidarity, but Freya doesn’t mind. She doesn’t come into town to be liked.

She’s here to meet someone.

She catches sight of the party in the back corner and diverts, making her way closer. The person immediately to catch her eye is the sorceress (at least, she assumes she’s a sorceress, based on the way she’s dressed). Dark hair and violet eyes, the picture of unattainable. Meanwhile, Freya looks like she climbed out of the woods. She probably has sticks in her hair.

Freya thinks she makes it work.

The sorceress steps away from the rest of the group, presumably looking to buy another round. Freya steps forward, meeting her at the bar and greeting her with a small smile.

“Hello. You were looking for me?”

The sorceress glances up at her curiously. “Hard to say, given that we haven’t asked for anyone.”

“The woods have ears. From what I understand, you’ve been asking a lot of questions about a hag in the woods tormenting the locals.”

The sorceress raises an eyebrow even further. Not the answer she was expecting, it seems. “And what would you know about that?”

“I’m her ward. An unwilling one, at that.” Freya is used to putting all her cards on the table. “I’ll be more than happy to help you end her under one condition—you take me with you.”

“This is quite bold of you, you realize. How do we know if we can trust you—especially since we didn’t ask for your help in the first place?”

“I suppose that will be something you have to decide for yourself. But I will say you can’t beat her without me.” Freya shrugs. “I guess the better question is, how much you will trust me if it means all of your friends surviving?”

Yennefer laughs. “I wouldn’t be so sure. We’ve been up against a lot, my party and I.”

“I’m sure you have. And I’m sure that the ones that came before you have as well. But that didn’t stop Dahlia from using their bones to build her house, her porch—you get an idea. I’m offering you an advantage none of them had.”

“And what makes you such an advantage?”

“Because her paranoia is her weakness. And if I confirm all of her worst suspicions, she’ll undo herself.”

The sorceress pauses. “And why do you want to undo her?”

“Oh, a multitude of reasons, but let me assure you, there is no love lost between us. I’m more than happy to rid the world of her. And when she’s gone, I will finally be free.”

Freedom seems to be a motivating enough reason. The sorceress sticks out her hand and Freya shakes it. “Yennefer.”

“Freya.”

“Let me discuss it with my party, and I’ll reach out.”

Freya nods in return. “Then I will leave you to it.” As she turns to retreat out of the tavern, she can’t help but feel like maybe, this time, it will finally turn the tide in her direction.

* * * * *

Yennefer reaches out a few days later, and they craft a plan. In the end, the best way with Dahlia isn’t the element of surprise. She never is surprised. But Freya knows the seats of her power, and with them gone, all that’s left is for the witch to burn. She disposes of each of her talismans of power, one after the other, and knowing that she’s the last of them, she waits for the best moment to strike.

With the hutch burning down around them, Dahlia grabs Freya by the throat and sneers. “You kill me, I take you with me.”

Freya doesn’t hesitate before burying the knife in her aunt’s throat one last time. “If that is true, so be it. The world is better without you in it.”

Turns out Dahlia’s bluffing, or maybe she thought she’d live longer in the struggle. Or maybe, that Freya would find herself trapped in the house, unable to escape. For a moment, it looks as though that might be true, as the flames inch closer, closing off all the escape routes. Then, a portal opens up to the side of her, and a hand reaches through it for her.

“Freya, take my hand.”

Yennefer doesn’t have to ask her twice. She meets Yennefer’s firm grip with her own and allows herself to be yanked forward and into the fresh mountain air. They stumble away from the burning wreckage of what used to bed Dalia’s home, nestled deep in the Savalirwood.

“Thank you,” Freya says with a nod. “For all of it.”

“Thank you,” Yennefer nods. “I don’t think we would have gotten this close without you.”

One of the other party members suggests drinks at a nearby tavern and they all abscond, intending to celebrate their victory, for both them and the town. They get a few rounds on the house, and even some begrudgingly respectful looks for Freya. They dance, they sing, and towards the end of the night, Yennefer finds Freya and Finn in a corner, and slides into the seat next to her.

“You should come with us.”

Freya raises an eyebrow. “Have you run that opinion past my brother?” Klaus has been less than pleasant towards her after that revelation, and Freya’s since forgiven him for it, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to extend traveling with her any longer than necessary.

“We’re heading to meet up with his brothers, actually.” Yennefer shrugs. “I think since they’re also your family, see them as well.”

Freya takes a hesitant breath before nodding. “I would like that.”

“Also, I don’t give a flying fuck what Klaus thinks.” Yennefer smirks. “He’s huffing and puffing as though his tantrum will change anything. But as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he wants to know you as much as you want to know him.”

“Well, I’ll wait to hear that from him.” Freya doesn’t know enough to assume anything with Niklaus right now. And she certainly doesn’t think he will enjoy having Yennefer speak for him, even if her words are true. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to go. “I wouldn’t mind the ride out of town, though.”

“Perfect.” Yennefer clinks her glass against hers. “I’ll accept that as a start.”

Freya takes a sip of her drink. “You did okay this with the rest of your party, didn’t you?”

Yennefer nods. “Of course I did.”

Part of Freya thinks that might not have been the case. But as desperate as she is to leave, and for friendship and family, she doesn’t look too closely. If they don’t want her there, that’s a problem for Future Freya to figure out.

* * * * *

Niklaus warms up to her, eventually. He takes her home to meet his siblings, and while their reunion as a family is brief, Elijah joins them on the road, a charming paladin to their brother’s rogue, and she feels, for the first time, she has a place in the world. One that doesn’t begin and end at the edge of Dahlia’s front porch.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t last as long as any of them would like. Over time, they pick up clues, following the edges of a conspiracy that begins in Rexxentrum, under the watchful nose of the Cerberus Assembly (or possibly within it, it’s hard to say). Their investigation leads them back to the Savalirwood, where their journey began all those months ago, and a cabal of cultists, trying to release fiends from the Nine Hells.

Freya knows well enough, growing up with wicked things curling under her feet, that nothing that calls the forest home should ever exist beyond it. And nothing that needs the forest to pass through should ever be allowed to leave it.

The battle is a tough one, and Freya stumbles through the trees, scroll clenched tightly in her hand as she tries to reach the space where the cultists have torn the world open, praying to the Wildmother that what she has the will seal it.

Yennefer is hot on her heels, a lightning bolt flying out from her fingers as one cultist tries to cut her off at the pass. Freya’s eyes glow as they reach the edge of the crater, and a ring of flame springs up around them, preventing anyone who might try to stop them from getting closer.

“Will this work?”

“Yes.” She pauses. “No. I don’t know. But I don’t think we have much of a—”

“ELIJAH!”

Klaus’s voice breaks through the surrounding chaos, and Freya looks up. Elijah had been trying, doing his best, to use his divine gifts to push back the wave of fiends surrounding them, but it’s not enough. One fiend turns the tide, getting hold of his blade and running it through his chest to pin him to a nearby tree.

The entire world narrows to that moment, seeing the last gasp of breath fall from her brother’s lips as he slumps against the gnarled bark of the tree. Freya reaches for any magic she has left, but it’s not enough. She is out of spells, out of diamonds. The only thing she can do is activate the scroll in her hands and hope that it’s enough.

Black ichor splatters across Elijah’s armor as Klaus cuts the fiend’s throat. He looks to Freya, eyes determined, and shouts. “Now! Do it now!”

“Freya…” Yennefer begins, but Freya isn’t listening. As it stands now, the spell is a risk. They don’t know what the cost will be to cast it. But, if they don’t, the fiends will consume the world, regardless. Might as well take the chance that they’re right.

“Take a step back.”

Her eyes glow again, hair fanning out around her as she chants in Primordial, one of the few lessons Dahlia taught her that in the end provided useful. She feels the power surge from her hands, arching up into the trees and blinding everyone around them.

And when the light clears, the ground is whole.

Freya, exhausted and jelly limbed, stumbles, but Yennefer is there to catch her, holding her close in their ring of fire. Klaus and the rest of the party finish the few fiends who slipped far enough out of range, and the end is silence.

Silence, grief, and consequence.

* * * * *

Klaus drives them up past Shadycreek Run to Zadash, where he pays for the clerics of the Lawbearer’s service. They attempt a resurrection, just once, but the spirit doesn’t hold. Instead, they spend more money on the appropriate rituals, laying him to rest at a private graveyard for her paladins and clerics, and Yennefer does them the service of sending a message to Kol, so that he may break the news to Rebekah.

Freya wishes that at least one of them could be there to comfort them, to promise that his death was not in vain, but Klaus is too angry to provide it himself, and Freya…well, unfortunately for Freya, cannot travel that far. It’s not as though the spell has bound her, but more that she doesn’t trust that those who attempted this don’t have a back-up plan.

Yennefer finds her sitting in the woods, near the tree where Elijah died, and speaks without needing Freya to acknowledge her.

“They have summoned me back to Rexxentrum.” She takes a deep breath. “There is something afoot at the school, and my mentor would like me to stay and teach for a while. It may give us an in to the Assembly, and see if they were truly unaware of what happened here.” Another pause, and when Freya doesn’t acknowledge her right away, she continues. “You should come with me.”

Finn shuffles closer, curling up in her lap and purring in comfort, before she finally speaks. “I can’t.”

Yennefer’s brow furrows. “Why not? Is it—”

“Not the spell, no. But more what we do not know. What their motives were, how they got this far, why they did what they did.” Freya looks back at Yennefer. “I will not have the things that killed my brother to escape back into the world again. And if it means that I have to resign myself to these woods, then so be it.”

Yennefer’s eyes soften, concerned that this is the choice she’s making, but in the end, she nods. She takes two steps closer and presses a kiss on the top of Freya’s head. “I understand why you have to do this. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“That is entirely fair.” She looks up with a smirk. “I’ll pay a wizard from Zadash to come in and install a teleportation anchor for me. You can pop in any time.”

“Don’t jest, because I will take you up on that offer.” Yennefer looks up at the trees, the dreary halls that likely remind her of when they first met. “I don’t like that I’m leaving you to these trees again, after all this time.”

“Don’t worry. The trees are pleasant company.” Freya smiles as she pushes to her feet. “And I can feel Elijah here. I’ll let my family know where to find me. I’ll be okay, Yen.”

Yennefer nods, before reaching over and pulling her into a tight hug. “Keep hold of that sending stone. I’ll see you soon.”

Freya nods and watches as her last friend slips back out of the woods and into the rest of the world. Freya glances at the trees, running her hand over the bark of the closest one and nods.

“Come, Finn. I think it’s time we build a house.”

Edited 2022-10-14 22:56 (UTC)

Laurel can tell from the look on Gideon’s face that she doesn’t know quite what to do with Laurel and Steve. One dead woman and a man out of time that need to be reinserted into the timeline as quietly as possible. Steve won’t go home without Laurel and Laurel doesn’t want to stay without Steve.

And since Steve is more important to the timeline, arguably, Steve gets what he wants.

As they settle into the seats in front of the Gideons, offering them up their bribe for returning to the world they left behind—because Laurel sees it for what it is, a bribe—but it’s a pretty good bribe.

A quiet life, away from the problems of the world. A house, a family. All the things Steve wanted to return to in 1944. Things Laurel wants too—staying close to Sara and Ava, their families growing together. Seeing Thea and Roy, Mia and William. It’s a perfect promise of what their life could be with no interference, a perfect happy ending. Almost too perfect, but were they really in a position to say no?

She can tell from the look on Steve’s face that he wants this. Even as he tries to blink it away and stay the course, as they agreed. She can tell that in a lot of ways, even though traveling with the Legends is a fresh adventure. He’s tired. He’s ready to start the next part, whatever that may be.

She doesn’t have the heart to take it away from him because she has her suspicions.

As they retreat to their room, alone, she reaches out to take his hand. “If the rest of the Legends believe the Gideons are acting in good faith, we should take it.”

Steve looks at her, surprised. “Are you sure?”

Laurel nods. “It’s not just what you want, it’s what I want too. Always has been.” She thought it would have been another guy, once upon a time, but she’s never been so glad that she was wrong. “If you think you’re ready.”

“I am.” He responds a little too quickly, before moving to sit on the bed next to her. “I think I have been since Thanos, I just…wasn’t sure how to get out. And being stuck in the twenties, having to do things I real time, felt good.”

“The Waverider was a good baby step. For both of us, I think. I’m not sure I was ready to let go, either.”

Steve nods. “But only if the Legends think it’s a good deal.”

“Yep. If they don’t, we dispatch evil Gideon and save the world one last time.”

“Deal.” Steve reaches over to take her hand, giving it a small squeeze. “So you really want to go all in with me?”

“Always,” Laurel smiles, leaning in to kiss him. “I think I knew from the minute I met you. That you were someone I could count on to the end.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Captain Lance would like to see everyone on the bridge.”

Steve takes a deep breath and looks over at her with a smile. “To the end.”

She nods as she gets up to join him. “To the end.”

* * * * *

They take the deal, going back to their lives. Sara and Ava get to throw themselves a real wedding for their friends back home that is more a reception than anything else. During the event, while Laurel is off catching up with Felicity, Sara pulls Steve out onto the dance floor for a quiet conversation, out of Laurel’s range of hearing.

Laurel slides over to Ava and squints. “What is your wife up to?”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume I ever know what my wife is up to.”

“…Good point.” She sighs. “Well, at least I’m ninety percent sure she’s not stealing my boyfriend again.”

Ava raises an eyebrow. “Only ninety?”

“Wiggle room, if this is an evil Sara from another universe.”

“Fair. Also, so glad we’re comfortable joking about this now.”

Laurel could tell Ava was not comfortable, so she just grins at her before being pulled off by her father to dance.

* * * * *

A few weeks later, she comes into the kitchen to the smell of eggs, bacon and French toast. Steve’s in the middle of the kitchen setting the breakfast table, and she looks over it all with a smile. “What are you doing?”

He turns and flashes her a grin in return. “Surprising you with breakfast?”

“One of my favorite surprises.” She makes her way over to the breakfast table and snags a piece of bacon. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well.” He comes up behind her, steering her into a chair nearby. “I know we’ve been talking about it, so none of this is exactly a surprise. But I still wanted us to have a moment. Guess I’m old-fashioned that way.” He slowly drops to one knee and pulls a ring box out of his pocket. “This is a lot of things I thought I would never get to have. And while we both know how we feel about each other, I’m so grateful that we get to go into this together. So, Dinah Laurel Lance, will you marry me?”

Her smile widens, and she’s glad for the moment. To pause and acknowledge what they mean to each other traditionally. “Yes,” she nods as he leans in to kiss him. “Yes, of course I will.”

He slips the ring on her finger and pulls her in for another kiss. The kiss lingers, building in heat before he scoops her up from the kitchen table and they head back to the bedroom. Breakfast gets cold, but celebrating feels like it should come first.

They have a small, quiet wedding with a select few from both sides of their lives. After that they buy a house, retreat somewhere quiet, and get to work on being normal. Laurel even starts practicing law again, after Felicity builds her a bullet proof fake identity, complete with bar scores and a full resume. Part of her misses the life of a superhero, but coming home to Steve and the life they wanted is more than enough.

They had big news to announce at their next team dinner, but circumstances get away from them. The discovery that Gwyn had rejected the fake Alun and gone after him in World War I is a concerning one. Steve and Laurel look at each other across the table, and they know they can’t ignore this, as much as they may want to.

But Laurel can’t go. Not back into a war zone. No one seems to question it, and will let Laurel try to run interference with Gideon if it comes to that. But when Gideon doesn’t show, she goes home and she waits.

And she waits.

And she waits.

And then she runs into Nate. Nate, who seems blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve is missing—apparently he also had resigned from the Legends, but Steve was fine. According to Nate, they saved Alun and Sara and Ava were going to bring Steve home. Which means something is very, very wrong.

Fortunately, the Legends aren’t the only time travelers she knows. It takes a few well-placed calls, Barry promising to come on board if they can find a more stable way of tracking them, and a misfire with the Sorcerer Supreme (though Wong was very nice about it), before she lands on Scott Lang’s front door.

“Laurel.” He blinks at her in surprise. “Hi. You’re here. Is Cap with you?”

“No. And that’s kind of the problem. Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” He steps back to let her in, and she steps forward, glancing around the house. Her eyes land on a set of playing cards and she smiles.

“Taking up magic again?”

“Of course. Gotta keep the skills fresh.” He leans against the wall. “So, really. What can I do for you?”

“Well, Scott. I have a bit of a time travel problem.”

“Isn’t your sister good at that?”

“She is. But unfortunately, she’s part of the problem.” She moves to sit on the couch and leans forward with a sigh. “I think Steve and the Legends might be in Time Jail.”

“Oh.” A beat. “There’s a Time Jail?”

“Apparently. But if we’re going to get them out, I’m going to need some help.”

Scott nods and gets to his feet. “Yeah, of course, I’m in. Anything for Cap. Just … I’m not exactly sure where we start.”

Laurel nods and gestures to the door. “I’m going to introduce you to my friend, Barry Allen. And then … we’ll figure it out from there.”

One way or another, they’re getting her husband back. Even if she has to take down the Time Police to do it.

* * * * *

It takes a couple days for them to wrangle something together—using quantum technology to fly under the Time Police’s radar, given that it runs on a different wavelength than most time ships around. Gwyn’s technology versus the Pym family’s research makes all the difference—at least in terms of their plan—and Barry can run back to 1914 and track down the Legends signature.

“I got it,” he says as he skids to a stop in the Cortex, holding up Scott’s signature-tracking device. “And weirdly enough, I’ve been there before. I just don’t know how to get there.”

“The Vanishing Point,” Laurel nods. “That’s what I was worried about.”

“Don’t worry. We got this.” Scott eyes the other Laurel from across the room, almost as though he isn’t sure what to make of her. “We’ll go in, grab Cap and the Legends and get out. Promise.”

Laurel nods as she takes a step back, ready to monitor things from here. Not that she’s particularly science oriented, but Hank and Janet are there to help. She looks over at the team, Scott and Hope. Laurel, Barry and Nate, and know that if all goes according to plan, they’ll be back in a minute.

They blink out of existence, and she already feels herself starting to count the seconds.

Edited 2022-10-15 17:07 (UTC)

Waverly may be gone, but the angel still craves entertainment.

It’s not as though there’s much to do in the Garden. Manning the doors, guarding the prisoner, boring, boring, boring. She may not be the version of Waverly that wants to be part of the world more than anything—or at least have the parts of her world here with her—but that doesn’t mean she sees the point to sitting stone on a throne for the rest of eternity. So she entertains herself and hopes that one day the Garden could prove more entertaining than what it left behind.

As long as she’s sacrificed to her duty, she wanders the prison as she pleases, paging through books, examining her options and mostly irritating the hell out of Bobo Del Ray. That may be the part she enjoys the most.

“You can’t be too disappointed.” Waverly slides into the roller chair, large black wings fanning out behind her. “All those years of calling me angel. You must have wanted to see if it was true.”

“You are not her.” Bobo stares her down, fire and anger burning behind his eyes. “Do not speak as if you are.”

How bold of him to make such a definitive declaration like that. His limited understanding, despite his extra years in the game, is entertaining. But she will not yield to his demands to return what he thought was his to claim.

“I am her. I’ve always been her. Waverly as you knew her was a shield, protection from a world that sought to exploit her, end her before she had even begun. Do you know how long it’s been since an angel was born? Not since creation has such a thing existed. Balance needed to be maintained.”

“Is that what you are? Balance?”

“No. I am Julian’s scion, and it is my duty to maintain the Garden, as my father before me did.”

“He was not your father.”

“Oh, are you going to claim that you were?” She raises an eyebrow as she inches in closer. “My imaginary friend who conned me into getting half my family killed. Not what I would call a reliable father figure.”

“Ward was your father.”

“Ward was a babysitter, and a terrible one at that.”

“And Curtis?”

That name strikes a cord with the part of her that still feels things, a grief Waverly feels for the man who truly raised her, who gave her everything that he could afford. The angel sets her jaw as she steps back.

“An adequate answer, I suppose. But even Curtis couldn’t teach me everything I needed to know about myself. And while Julian may not have been present, we could have had more of a relationship. Unfortunately, you saw fit to rob us of that.”

She settles into her chair again, flipping through the book. The name isn’t one she recognizes, so it’s not so much foreboding knowledge of the future as a fun story. She watches over the top of the leather bound pages as Bobo’s head drops against the invisible barrier, hands balling into fists.

“If you’re so upset about that, why don’t you end me already? Make me pay the consequences for my actions.”

The angel’s head tips to the side. “That’s what you would like, wouldn’t you? For it all to be over. Take the easy way out. I don’t know, Bobo. To me, that doesn’t sound like justice.”

“How is it not? An eye for an eye, isn’t it?”

She shakes her head. “No. True justice means you must live with the consequences of your actions. And unfortunately for you, in the Garden, we live a long, long time.”

Something pales in his countenance and he walks away from her, sitting on the opposite side of the tree, obscuring him from her view. It’s not like he can go anywhere else, so she allows it. But she stays where she’s perched, flipping gently through the pages.

He’ll figure out her intentions soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.

* * * * *

More time passes and Bobo becomes more irritable with each appearance of her. She plays up her appearance more angelically each time, taking on flowing robes and making her long hair glow with the celestial vibrance. True, it’s showing off and possibly a waste of power, but it gets under Bobo’s skin so much that she can’t help but rub it in, just a little.

“What’s wrong, Bobo?” she pouts mockingly as she strides closer. “Still pouting that you haven’t earned my forgiveness yet?”

“You are not her,” he sneers again, unable to let that fact go. It tells her that no matter what, he still isn’t ready. “I can see that, plain as day. You may inhabit her body, but you’re not my angel.”

She shakes her head as she walks away. “You’re looking, but you don’t see.”

“Don’t see what?”

“Well, one, that Waverly was never anything of yours. Despite how you clung to her, like a lifeline in the dark, what you thought may free you from Hell. The angels forsook you long ago, Robert Svane. And she would not save you.”

“She could have. You still could.”

She rolls her eyes. He thinks that existence entitles him to salvation. That the mistakes he made will be wiped away if he can convince the right angel to forgive him and give him peace. The angel does not intend to give him the peace he searches for, not until he shows he’s fully ready to earn it.

“Why would I? What have you done for me that would have endeared me to you? The time you conned me into burying the talisman that would disrupt my family’s protection? That time you kidnapped my sister and groomed her into your perfect little heir weapon?”

“Willa and I—”

“Willa was your captive for most of her life. That is a fact, Bobo, not semantics. But even that was not enough to fully tear you from her good graces. She wanted to believe the best in you. She did. But then you murdered my father before either of us could know him.”

She takes another step closer to the edge of the cage, forcing him to meet her eyes.

“Do you see it now?”

Bobo grits his teeth before shaking his head. “You haven’t told me anything I don’t already know.”

“Well, here’s something. Waverly knew what she was doing when she sat on that throne. She knew what she would be sacrificing. And she would rather throw away the guise of who she was than be here, stuck for an eternity with you.”

She watches as the dawning crosses his face. That any hope Waverly had for his redemption was truly gone, swept away in the last act of a man who could not get out of his own way. It’s an unsettling feeling that he still felt that the only way to survive was to die.

She steps back with a wink and a smile. “I’m not just your warden. I’m your punishment.”

And maybe now, he’ll finally learn something from it.

Edited 2022-10-16 16:19 (UTC)

“Do you want to come to Fillory?”

Fen spits out the question to Nate, rapid fire at the entrance to the Waverider. They stand outside the apartment building where they stashed the clock door, but she’s not ready to give up ~~Nate~~ her new friends yet and if she can take ~~Nate~~ a piece of that with her, then all the better, right? Nate mentioned wanting to see Fillory, being a fan of the books.

She should take him. That’s what a grateful friend would do, after being rescued from a king intent on making him her wife.

Nate blinks at the suggestion before turning to face her when he realizes she’s serious. “Wait, really? Are you serious?”

“I mean, it’s my home.” Fen suddenly hesitates. Is she making some kind of huge mistake? Is she not allowed to bring people from Earth to Fillory, despite people from Earth invading her home all the time? No. It’s her home, and she can bring whatever guests she wants. She squares her shoulders, lifts her head and nods. “Why wouldn’t I be able to take you to visit?”

Nate glances back over his shoulder with a frown. “Will I be able to get back on my own?”

“We have a clock.”

His eyes widen. “The clock? The one that Jane and Martin went through when they entered Fillory for the first time?”

“I guess? I’ve never actually read the books.”

You would think she would, but in a lot of ways, trying to read the Fillory and Further books is like reading your own world’s history from someone who really didn’t care about your place in it.

Nate hesitates again, before shrugging. “Can’t hurt to see it, right? Maybe decide on the way?”

Fen has a hard time reading if it’s a yes or no, but if it means that she gets to spend a little more time with ~~Nate~~ her friend, then that’s fine by her. “Okay.” She smiles, then reaches impulsively for his hand and pulls him into the high-rise.

The ride up to the elevator is quiet, with neither of them knowing what to say. It’s one moment where she wishes she was Margo, able to be assertive and snatch what she wants out of the air, rather than over-analyzing things in her head. Though it certainly doesn’t help matters she’s married, and while she and Eliot are certainly not traditional, will that matter to Nate?

Probably best to just be friends. It’s safer that way.

Fen lets them into the penthouse, and Julia and Kady’s heads pick up from behind the sofa. “Fen?” Julia frowns. “Where have you been?”

“Time traveling. Henry VIII wanted to marry me. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

It probably says something that neither woman blinks at that explanation. Their lives are weird enough as it is. Kady shakes her head. “You really can’t catch a break for weddings, can you? Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is Nate. He’s one of the time travelers that saved me. Nate, Julia and Kady. This is Kady’s apartment.”

Nate nods. “Nice place.”

“I’m just going to take him on a quick trip to Fillory. You know. Give him a tour. See the sights. All that jazz.”

Kady opens her mouth to contradict that, but Julia places a hand on her arm to stop her. “Have fun. We’ll be here for a while, so Nate should be able to just come through the clock when you’re done.”

“Thanks,” Fen nods, before taking Nate’s hand again and leading him through the penthouse to the clock.

“Nice meeting you,” Nate waves, before falling in step behind her. “Weird luck with weddings?”

“Oh. Well, I told you I was already married, right?”

Nate’s face flickers with something Fen can’t read before he nods. “Right. You said that, yes.”

“Right. So…it’s a long story.”

When they come to a stop in front of the clock, Nate looks up with it in a bit of awe, reaching out a hand to run his fingers over some details. “I feel like I’m dreaming already,” he says, shaking his head. “This is incredible.”

“Wait until you see what’s on the other side.” She reaches for the door, pausing on the doorknob before looking back at him. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Fen grins before pulling open the front of the clock, and in a flash, they step through to the other side.

* * * * *

“I can’t believe I’m standing in Castle Whitespire right now.”

Nate’s been practically giddy with excitement since they arrived. They had a bit of a walk back to the castle, and she’s been more than happy to show him all the landmarks on the way, but the castle takes him by surprise the most. Fen falls in step behind him, letting him take in all the details until he comes to a stop. He’s stumbled into the throne room, where all the delegates are waiting on declarations from the king and queen standing on the dais.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Margo snaps, eyes sharp as she glares, and Fen darts forward before Margo takes aggressive action.

“With me! He’s with me!” She darts in front of him, and waves. “Hi. This is my friend Nate.”

Margo’s countenance softens, slightly. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Long story. Almost married King Henry VIII.” Eliot’s eyebrows rise and Fen waves a hand. “Not important. Nate, this is High King Margo the Destroyer and King Eliot the Spectacular.”

“Hi,” Eliot gives a finger wave from the other side of the dais. “I take it Nate is the reason you didn’t become his seventh wife. Was it hot John Rhys Meyers Henry or gross old Henry?”

Fen considers that question without context and shakes her head. “He wasn’t attractive by any measure.”

“I’ll take that as an answer.” Eliot waves a hand. “Be gone, minions. We must debrief Lady Fen from her diplomatic adventure.”

Tick looks like he’s about to protest, but a glare from Margo seals the deal, and all the courtiers up and flee the room. Once they’re gone, Margo smiles. “We thank you for bringing Fen back to us. Not that I understand how Tudor England is involved, but Fen’s never been one to do things halfway.”

“I was happy to help. Who knows what ripples adding another wife would make to the timeline.” Nate continues looking around as he steps forward. “And for all I’ve read about Fillory, it’s better than I ever imagined.”

“A fan, huh?” Margo and Eliot share another look before Margo slinks up and links her arm in his. “Would you like a full tour?”

“From the High King? By all means.” Nate smiles as he lets Margo pull him off.

Fen isn’t sure what Eliot sees in her face, but he sidles closer, turning her to face him fully. “All in one piece, yes? No surprises you’re putting on a brave face for?”

“What? No.” Fen shakes her head, her eyes still drifting past his shoulder to the hallway Nate and Margo left out of. “I’m fine.”

“Mmm-hmm. So is he.” Fen feels the telltale burn of a blush start to crawl up her cheeks before Eliot gestures for her to sit next to him on the dais. “You know that even though we’re married, you may pursue your own interests.”

“Interests?” If Fen seems confused, it’s possibly because she is. Eliot’s never referred to their relationship this directly before, and having it explicitly laid out throws her for a loop. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re my wife. And I’m not going to abandon you. But I think we both know that I’ve hardly been faithful in this arrangement.”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t give me that patriarchal bullshit. We both know that won’t play in this marriage.” Eliot pauses before giving her hand a squeeze. “More than my wife, you’re my friend, Fen. And as my friend, I want to see you happy. So if that means you want to climb that hunky time traveler like a talking tree, then go forth with my blessing.”

She doesn’t need to question it, but she does all the same. “Really?”

Eliot nods. “I’d divorce you if it would make you feel better, but Fillory doesn’t really believe in that.”

“It’s not like it’s legitimate on Earth, anyway.” Fen nods. Lingering in the pretense of their marriage has been comforting, because it means she didn’t have to pursue anyone, and that she still has the tether, a reminder of one of the worst things that happened to her, and the only other person who understands how terrible that was.

But Eliot’s right. She can’t hide behind their arrangement forever if she wants to be happy. And if Eliot is giving his blessing, she should reach out and take it. She glances over with a small smile and gives his shoulder a small squeeze.

“Thank you.” A beat. “You’re allowed to go after what you want too, you know.”

Eliot raises an eyebrow. “I always go after what I want.”

Fen gives him a small look at that before turning to go after Margo and Nate. Eliot will figure it out in his own time—however long that takes.

* * * * *

She finds him in the gardens, wandering through the flowers and just taking in the sights. Margo is nowhere to be seen, which means he must have her approval. Not that he likely knows that. It’s been nice to see her two best friends state their approval in their own ways.

Now Fen just has to make sure she has the nerve to follow through.

“Hey,” she smiles as she catches up with him and he looks up at her with a grin.

“Hey. This is amazing. Thank you so much for—”

He probably had more to say, but Fen collides with his lips first.

It’s her first time really kissing someone. Sure, she had been kissed before, but rarely does she take the initiative in these things. She kisses Nate, holding it for a long moment, before pulling back with an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I should have asked. That wasn’t appropriate at all.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry.” He smiles at her hands, moving to her hips almost as though he’s trying to keep her from bolting, but there’s a gentleness to it. If she truly wanted to be free, she would be able to. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that myself.”

“Oh.” She smiles, feeling less of an urge to run away. “Good. Good, that we’re on the same page.”

“I guess we are,” he admits slowly. “But what about your husband?”

“Right. Eliot. Well…it’s a very long story, but the long and short of it is you’re more his type than I am.”

It takes a second before understanding clicks. “Oh. Then why—”

“Long time ago, some people from Earth made a promise to my great-grandfather that the next High King of Fillory would marry his daughter. Only another High King of Fillory didn’t come until much, much later, and by that time it wasn’t my grandmother, it was—”

“You. That’s…awkward.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.” Fen laughs. “But I really like you, Nate. You’re the first person I’ve liked like this in a really long time. And Eliot gave me his blessing, so as long as you’re okay with me being married in Fillory, then I’d … really like to do more of this.”

Her hands reach out to rest against his chest gently, staying close. Silence lingers between them, and she waits, but the longer the silence drags out, the more anxious she gets.

“And I’m not used to being this forward, so if you could say something, that would be …”

This time, Nate’s lips collide with hers, and if she’s quite honest, it’s much, much nicer than the frantic way she kissed him earlier. She melts into him as hands on her hips turn to arms around his waist, pulling her closer. This, this must be what people talk about when they talk about that spark between two people, and she can’t help but lean into it.

Eventually he breaks the kiss, and she nods, staying close. “That was an excellent answer. Very concise.”

He grins at her before nodding. “We have to talk more, probably. Be clearer on what being the consort of the consort actually means, but…I’m in. Whatever it is.”

“Good,” she smiles, before pulling back completely and taking his hand. “Come on. I still have more of my favorite places to show you.”

He smiles, giving her hand a small squeeze as he follows. “Good. Lead the way.”

Edited 2022-10-17 22:44 (UTC)

People think Fen doesn’t pay attention. Or more, that when she pays attention, she doesn’t understand. And maybe often that’s true. Although they all speak the same common language, people from Earth often seem like they’re speaking a separate one entirely. It’s a lot of jargon, references she doesn’t understand and honestly abuses of grammar that would have made her teachers back home want to cry.

Though she loves emojis even if she doesn’t always know now to translate them.

But Fen notices things. She notices how Julia has been pensive, almost morose, over the last week or so. That certain food she used to love she’s turning away from, and she’s been turning down coffee or wine—she hasn’t even been smoking. Fen knows what those things mean.

She also knows why no one else has noticed. It’s the end of the world again, would be concerned about something so mundane. But Fen is, and she waits until she and Julia have the penthouse to themselves. She quietly ventures out from behind the breakfast bar, setting down a teacup on the coffee table in front of her.

“Ginger tea.” Fen explains when Julia gives her a questioning look. “It’ll help with the morning sickness.”

Her eyes widen briefly, almost like she’s about to protest, but in the end it comes out: “How did you know?”

“I pay attention. More than people think I do.” Fen settles on the couch next to her. “Are you okay?”

Julia huffs, her head dropping as her hair falls around her face like a frame. “I—I don’t know. But I think I want to keep it this time. This time feels different.”

Fen nods. “It’s Penny’s?”

Julia grimaces. “We just broke up, too.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And we’re not…we’re not good together. But I want this. How weird is that?”

“It’s not weird. Eliot and I weren’t good together either, and I wanted my baby so badly.” The baby she lost. The baby that was stolen from her. She can’t help but be envious of Julia’s chance to start again, and wonders if one day she will ever have the same. “Have you told him yet?”

She shakes her head. “Part of me doesn’t know if I should.”

“No, you need to.” She doesn’t mean to sound so insistent, but given who the father is, it’s necessary. “The baby could be a Traveler. He needs to know so that he can help you.” It’s probably terrible that her reasoning also doesn’t include that it’s more fair to Penny to have him know a child is out there.

“I just don’t want him to get his wires crossed.”

“He won’t. I don’t think. And even if he abandons you entirely, you won’t be alone.”

Julia blinks at her in confusion and then shakes her head. “Fen, I can’t ask you—”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“I don’t think this is your problem.”

“I don’t think it’s a problem at all.” Fen pauses before shifting to face Julia more. “I may be from a different world and different understandings, but you’re my friend Julia. If you need me, I’m here. No matter what.”

Julia studies the other woman’s face for a moment before nodding and reaching out to place a hand over hers. “Thank you.”

Fen smiles in return and squeezes her hand back. Whatever it takes, they’ll figure it out.

* * * * *

Penny, as predicted, is not a complete asshole about the situation.

It’s harder for him to take the line about him and Julia not getting back together than it is about the news of the baby. But he respects it all the same, and the three of them—Julia, Penny and Fen—manage a strange co-parenting balance. Penny frets about doctor’s appointments and neonatal vitamins, while Fen provides more homespun remedies that worked well for her from Fillory.

And when the big problems come up and they leave Fen to her own devices, she nests. Julia picks the color scheme and the designs, but Fen gets to paint, to research products, to do the things that she can do, as the non-magical member of the team, so that things keep going in the right direction.

Then Hope is born and things get really chaotic.

Fen sees it, and given that she’s not an actual parent, she takes a step back. Penny and Julia deserve the bonding time, and there are other things she can help with. But every so often, they’ll have to go off on a magical mission and Fen will get to babysit and that? That may be Fen’s favorite time of all.

Hope isn’t quite a sparkling conversationalist yet, but Fen doesn’t mind carrying the conversation. She tells her stories from Fillory, about Ember and Umber and the world they created. How Quentin and her mother came to help the Chatwins change the course of Fillory forever. The talking animals, the talking trees, High King Margo and her court. They’re more pieces of Fen’s world than anything else, but they’re pieces that Hope will have to know one day.

And holding her, getting in that new baby smell—it’s all the things she ached for but never got to have, but the more time she spends with Hope, the more that ache heals.

“Looks like you guys are getting cozy.”

Fen glances up to see Julia standing there, and she smiles. “I was just about to put her down.”

“Great. Then I didn’t miss anything.” Julia steps forward and goes to reach for her. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all. We’ve gotten lots of quality time today.”

Julia smiles as she takes her daughter into her arms, giving her a gentle rock. Then she glances back to Fen. “You know, you don’t have to yield for me all the time just because I’m her mother.”

Fen raises her eyebrows. “I think that’s exactly how it works. You’re her mom. You get first dibs, I think it’s called?”

Julia laughs. “You used that correctly, and while that is true, you’re just as much her parent as Penny and I are. Don’t think I don’t see all that you do around here.”

Fen doesn’t know what to say to that. In her mind, it all feels a little selfish. It’s not her baby, and it’s not her life, but doing these things allows her to spend time with Hope. That doesn’t make her a parent.

“I don’t agree with you. But I will accept the title of Favored Babysitter and leave it at that.” For now, anyway. Maybe she’ll warm up to the idea over time, but it feels like anything else would be a betrayal of her daughter.

“Fine. I will accept that. For now.” Julia steps back, making her way to the crib. “Hey, you didn’t find the—”

Before she can finish the statement, she disappears.

Fen blinks, almost as though by bringing the scene back into focus would make Julia and the baby reappear. It does not. It takes a few seconds for her brain to connect the dots before she runs towards the door.

“Penny! Your daughter is traveling, and she took Julia with her!”

* * * * *

It takes a couple of tries to figure out where exactly Hope went. Given that they don’t fully understand how her baby traveler powers work yet, the options are limitless and more than half are dangerous. But before they can go running all over creation looking for her, Julia sends them a text with her coordinates and Penny places a hand on Fen’s shoulder. Before she can even ask, they’re flying.

It’s lucky that Fen has some kind of knife on her at all times.

They land near an old house, just outside the city, and Julia is sitting on the front porch. It seems to be empty—there’s a For Sale sign in the front yard. She’s not sure why Hope would want to come here, but it seems like a nice house, if nothing else.

Julia looks up and sees the questioning looks on their faces and smiles. “This is Q’s dad’s house. Or it used to be, before he died.”

Fen nods slowly, holding her hands up so that she can easily reach for her knife if needed. “So there’s nothing to stab?”

Julia laughs. “No. It’s just…in the nursery I was thinking about how much I missed Q, and how much he would have loved her. I guess Hope tried to find the closest thing and take me there.”

“Smart girl,” Penny grins as he makes his way closer. “But we should probably teach her about traveling without consent.”

Fen looks over the property as she makes her way closer. “It’s a nice house.”

“It is.” Hope is shifted into Penny’s arms and Julia gets up to look at it from Fen’s view. “We spent so many summers running all over the place. It was the best.”

“Do you know if anyone is looking to buy it?”

Julia frowns as she looks back and shakes her head. “No idea.”

Fen shrugs. “She’s going to need more space one day. And clearly she already likes the place.”

“We don’t have enough money to buy a house,” Penny cuts Fen off at the pass. “I barely even exist in this universe to have a credit score, and before you suggest using Penny Forty’s, I’m willing to bet his is fucked, too.”

Julia snorts, before glancing over at Fen. “Well, we pulled off a successful bank robbery once. Maybe we could get Margo to help us do it again.” Julia reaches forward, resting one hand against the faded siding. “Keep the place in the family, so to speak.”

Fen shrugs. “Just a thought. You have time to figure it out.”

“Yeah, we do. So long as the world doesn’t end again.”

Penny looks up and narrows his eyes at her. “You had to jinx it.”

Julia laughs. “C’mon. Let’s get her home and back into bed. Then we’ll see just how viable this buy a house plan is.”

She moves over to rest a hand on Penny’s shoulder before extending her free hand out to Fen. Fen reaches for it and lets herself be pulled in as they’re whisked off again, back to their current home. It’s nice to have a family again.

As unconventional as it may be.

Edited 2022-10-18 22:49 (UTC)

“Leave me alone.”

The word sends vibrations through their small little cavern, and his eyes glow orange, bringing his inner demon to the surface, as though that will scare her away. The angel wants to laugh, but she’s not feeling that mean this morning, and she wants Bobo to engage, rather than retreat. She’s found, as time passes, that the more she is left to her own devices, the more the isolation grates, and a part of her she thought she suppressed is itching under her skin.

Where is Wynonna? Where is Nicole? Why haven’t they come for her already?

So when she wants to find reasons to suppress those errant nerves, she goes back down to the second floor to irritate Bobo.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” She waves her hand, and the tree he’s been leaning against disappears into a flowering bush. “I’m just shaking things up a bit. Trees can be so cliché.”

Bobo huffs as he pushes himself out of the leaves, spitting errant petals up into the air as he glares up at her. “There is an entire world here that you could populate if you wanted. Why must you continue to vex me?”

“Careful, Bobo. You almost sounded like Doc there for a second.” She tips her head to the side. “I thought I clarified that this is your punishment, didn’t I? Which means we don’t get to do what you want.”

Bobo’s eyes glare into hers like daggers, and he tries to regain his breath. “So, this is about the engagement for you?”

The angel raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not torture if I do not engage.” Bobo tips his head to the side. “If I ignore you, then there is no way you can defeat me.”

“So what? You’re saying this punishment is more than you deserve? It is beyond the pale for all the terrible things you’ve done.”

“I did those things because it was the only way to survive.”

“No. You did those things because you liked them. And deep down, you know that.” The angel steps closer, resting her palms against the force field as she smiles her menacing smile. “So until you’re ready to admit it, to really seem penitent for the things you’ve done, I’ll keep delivering a well-earned punishment.”

Bobo growls, slamming his hands against the side of the walls at her, before stalking off to the opposite side of the cage, sinking to the floor and staring straight ahead.

“I will find my way around your machinations yet. I spent many years in Hell. You’re no worse than that.”

The angel smiles, watching him as she does. “We’ll see about that.”

* * * * *

For a while, he seems to keep his word. Every day, his eyes stare straight ahead. He feigns sleep. He ignores her so readily; she thinks she might lose her touch. She may have to up her game. Beyond her being here, she doesn't know what could push his buttons.

She has no other leverage.

Until she has an idea. She pulls a large tome off of the shelf and makes her way to the chair she’s been spinning in day after day.

“Willa Earp. After spending many tears happily growing up with her siblings, she married a cute local boy, settled down, had some children. The demons came for her as the Heir—as demons are wont to do—but since she had time to grow up and mend bridges with those she hurt as a child, her sisters were there to help her. And when Bulsharr came to collect, the three of them could break the curse together.”

Bobo looks at her, confusion in his features. Like he doesn’t understand what she’s doing. He still doesn’t speak, but he is paying attention.

“John Henry Holliday. After his friend, Robert Svane, rescued him from the well, they could travel the world together, researching ways to break the curse. By the time they reach Ward as the Earp Heir, all of the work is done for him, and his daughters were free.”

“Waverly Earp. With her father in her corner, she can master her angelic abilities and learn more about the legacy she was born into. She gets to have a father she’s proud of, rather than a drunk who never wanted her because she wasn’t his.”

“None of this is real,” he finally rasps. “That’s not what happened.”

“No, but it could have.” She slams the tome closed and turns to face him, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “All the choices you could have made. All the lives you could have made better. You say you used to be a good man once, Robert, and that Hell ruined you, but how long had you been damned before you came across Doc in that well?”

She sets the book down and takes a step forward.

“When you came to my bedroom that day, you already knew you were going to kill him, didn’t you? Because it was better to take the coward’s way out than actually try to do something hard.”

He falls into silence again, before diverting his eyes back to the wall again. But she’s content with that for now. She feels she made her point.

* * * * *

“I have a proposition for you.”

The angel looks up from her light reading, eyeing the man in the cage across from her. Bobo has been silent for days, sulking and observing, which has been little fun. As annoying as it was when he wouldn’t take any responsibility for his actions, at least he was something to engage with. Now, she’s already gotten herself through several of the volumes available to her and she’s bored.

But now he wants to engage again. This should be interesting.

“Oh? Proposition away.”

“You give Waverly back—”

Never mind, she already doesn’t like where this is going. It must show on her face, because he grit his teeth in a huff.

“Will you let me finish?”

“I didn’t say anything.” The angel raises an eyebrow as she pushes herself into more of a sitting position. “I can’t help it. This is the first thing you’ve said in days and it’s drivel.”

Bobo takes a breath before he continues. “You give Waverly back, and I will submit myself to whatever judgement she deems fit. Whether it’s kill me or leave me here to rot, I don’t care. But I cannot atone if she is not here for me to atone too.”

There’s a curveball she didn’t see coming. That he has been listening to the angel as she ranted, repeatedly, is a surprise. She assumed he was simply going to dig in his heels forever until both of them had lost their minds.

Bobo looks at her pleadingly from behind the barrier, eyes focused intently, likely trying to see the bits and pieces of the woman he wants her to be.

“What I propose is mercy for both of us.” He takes another step closer, one hand lifting to press against the barrier, as though an offering for her to seal the deal.

He’s doing what she wanted. And she knows that when Waverly returns, she’s likely to finish what she started, give him what he wants. End him, take him off the chessboard, however you want to phrase it. And once all is said and done, she will be alone.

And that notion is more abominable than her current company.

“Do we have a deal, Waverly?”

She looks up at him, meeting his eyes, and she knows what her answer has to be.

“No.”

Edited 2022-10-14 00:34 (UTC)

“Wake up. Girls, wake up!”

Josie blinks as she struggles back into waking again. It’s still dark, so it’s not as though she or Lizzie have overslept and once she pushes herself into a sitting position, Jo moves on to the Lizzie. Shouting rings around them and the smell of smoke wafts in from the tent in front of them. They had been spending some time with the Earth Ashari as they wandered Tal’Dorei, and now the visit has been cut short.

“What’s going on?” Josie asks, pushing up and pushing out of bed. “I smell fire.”

“The Heretics are here. We need to go.”

Lizzie rouses to catch the tail end of that, eyes widening as the remains of sleep. “What? How did they find us?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’re here, and we have to go.”

Josie grabs her pack out from under her bed, grateful that she had the good sense not to unpack any further than she had to. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she reaches for Lizzie’s hand as Jo pushes them out the door, heading out of the village and into the trees ahead. Josie can hear the screams of pain from the druids that were protecting them, and part of her wants to go back and help them, but she knows, for now, there’s nothing she can do.

Right now? The only thing she can do is survive.

They reach a large tree, one wide enough for the two of them to pass through, and Jo takes them both by the arms, holding them close.

“I need you both to listen to me carefully.” Jo meets their eyes, a firmness and fear that Josie doesn’t quite understand. “I’m going to send you to a tree near to Zephrah, but you are not to engage the Voice of the Tempest. You are to head south and get on an airship.”

“Why are you saying this like you’re not coming with us?” Lizzie asks, and Jo pulls out a bag of coin and places it in Josie’s outstretched hand.

“Because I’m not.” She closes Josie’s fingers over the bag. “This should be enough money to get you on the ship to take you to Wildemount. Your father will send word when we’re safe, but you need to keep moving, no matter what. They will take some time to catch up with you, but they will if you aren’t careful.”

“Wildemount is a whole other continent. How will you ever find us?”

“I have my ways, don’t you worry.” Jo presses a kiss to each of their foreheads before chanting the spell and placing her hand on the tree trunk. It splits open in front of them, revealing the world on the other side. “I love you. Go!”

Lizzie doesn’t let Josie linger, gripping her hand tightly and pulling her through the tree after her. Soon they're on the other side of the country. The light is different; the world is quiet, and Josie slumps back against the tree as the portal closes behind them.

“We can’t just leave them there, Lizzie. What if—”

“What if what, Jo? Did you suddenly learn Tree Stride overnight to get us back there? Do you have the all powerful magics that are going to defeat the Heretics and save the day? There was no way we were going to win.”

Josie wants to have a retort to that, to mention all the people who are getting hurt because of them, because they protected them. She wants to think about how they’re just kids, and they’re not old enough to do this on their own. But they all die on her lips, because Lizzie is right, loathe as she is to admit it.

Lizzie steps forward, placing her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “There’s only us now. And we have to stick together.”

Josie swallows hard, then nods. By luck, they find their way to an airship port, and realize they have enough money to take the long way to Wildemount, passing through Marquet before they head to the Menagerie Coast. They have some food packed away, but they’ll have to find another way soon enough.

But as she curls into Lizzie on the bench, she hopes that they can handle whatever comes next. So long as they stick together, right?

* * * * *

Trekking across Wildemount is a slow process, as they have to stop between towns to get some work and earn some money before moving on to the next step. Getting into the empire unnoticed takes things they don’t have, so part of the money is asking unsavory types to help create papers that will allow them to go unnoticed, while the other part is trying to get whatever kinds of magical items they can to help them.

Josie learns her lesson on that one, when she goes into the Meandering Treasures to see if they had any anti-scrying spells. She comes out almost immediately when she learns they are very, very expensive.

Odd jobs seem to work out well for them, though. Even the more upstanding members will give two innocent looking teenage girls a shot, and while a lot of it is waitressing or running packages, but eventually they build up enough of a nest egg to break into the Dwendalian Empire and make progress.

What they don’t count on, however, is that the Heretics also have friends in high places.

They’re making their way to Trostenwald from the Cyrengreen Forest when Lizzie persuades her to stop for the night. Josie takes a breath as she calls on her magic, trying to draw it up from a place of familiarity and see if she can manage a spell she’s seen a million times.

She drops the crystal bead in the middle of the ground between them and begins the incantation, but gives a huff of frustration when she can’t generate enough magic and it fizzles out.

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to cast that Tiny Hut spell Dad always did.” Josie makes a face before leaning back on her hands. “It will keep us safer when we’re sleeping out in the open.”

“Dad’s a bard, Jo. Not a sorcerer.”

“I know. But I figured it was worth a shot.” She shrugs. “Guess I just don’t have enough magic yet.”

“We’ll get there. Mom said all good things take time.” Lizzie offers her a small smile before laying out her bedroll. “You want the first shift or the second?”

“I’ll take the first. You sleep.”

“Works for me.” Lizzie curls up and passes out quickly, leaving Josie alone with her thoughts.

She should have known she wouldn’t have been able to have cast the spell. All she can manage at this point is a few cantrips, and that’s not enough to get them far. Minor Illusion has gotten them out of a few scrapes that could have turned nasty, but even then, it isn’t quite enough. She casts it again, creating ghostly images of bunnies dancing on the surrounding ground when she hears a snap in the woods somewhere to her left.

Her head turns to the side, and the snap is quickly followed by footsteps. She reaches over and shakes her sister’s side.

“Lizzie? Get up, we have to move.”

She douses the fire, shrouding them in darkness, and she hears Lizzie shuffling to the side of her, trying to get things together. Moonlight peaks out through the shade of the trees, and they slowly move the opposite direction of the footsteps, but when they make it back onto the path, the Heretics trap springs into place.

Their leader smiles down at both of them, the dark paint he wears on his face distorting what likely was once a handsome expression. Josie has seen it in her mother’s pictures of her family. But now, Kai looks like an image from her worst nightmares and she freezes, unsure what to do.

“Hello girls,” he grins. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Josie.” Lizzie squares her shoulders, drawing some crackling power into her fist and prepares to shoot it outwards. “Run.”

At first, she listens to her sister, thinking that once Lizzie throws the spell, she’s going to run too. Maybe that was the intention, and they couldn’t succeed. But as she does her best to flee, dodging around the other cultists, she hears Lizzie scream, and she skids to a stop in her tracks.

Kai stands over her Lizzie, using some kind of torturous magic to hold her in place. Her eyes glow in response as she tries to fight back, but he’s too strong. He’s going to kill her, rip whatever magic from her he can find, and Josie can’t let that happen. She can’t lose anyone else.

She can’t be alone.

“Stop!”

The word moves through the space like a thunderclap. Josie can feel heat growing in her fingers, arching up through her palms as her magic gathers, come to her aid. Kai breaks eye contact with Lizzie to look at her, and laughs.

“What are you going to do, little girl? You’ve only just discovered your magic. I have more power than you could even fathom.”

“Power always caves to another power in the end.” She raises her hands as the cultists try to surround her. “Even empires can burn to the ground.”

She unleashes whatever magic she’s holding, and even she’s surprised when a bright, burning pillar of fire pours out of her palms and into the area ahead of her. Cultist robes catch on fire as they stumble back away from her, leaving her on a straight path to Kai. The back of his robes catch from the aftereffects of the spell and he stumbles back to put them out, allowing for Josie to get to her sister and pull her away. Without thinking, Lizzie casts Invisibility over both of them.

Somehow, they lose Kai in the woods, but by the time the sun comes up, they both know that won’t last for long.

* * * * *

They get to Zadash without further incident with the Heretics, but it’s clear in the confrontation's aftermath that Lizzie is not okay. Whatever Kai did to her, it seems to have unlocked something inside her. She’s hearing voices, answering Josie’s thoughts as though she said them out loud, and part of Josie worries that whatever this is means she’s connected to Kai somehow.

But, when the Heretics don’t make another appearance, she assumes that it’s simply a side effect of dark magic. In some ways, it seems to be an asset. Lizzie can hedge a guess if a person is trustworthy or not, and it gets them out of a few scrapes along the way. At the Invulnerable Vagrant, they ask about scrying pendants, and the kind, well-meaning man behind the counter tells them they’re out of the girl’s price range.

He does, however, point them towards the Soltryce Academy.

It’s another few days before they arrive in Rexxentrum. As they make their way to the Academy, Lizzie reaches for Josie’s hand and squeezes. “Are you sure about this?”

“No. But it could be the safest place for us, and it’s the last place that Kai would look.”

Lizzie frowns, uncertainty dripping off her. “I don’t know if this feels right. Mom wouldn’t—”

“Mom isn’t here. There’s only us.”

Saying Lizzie’s words back to her doesn’t make Josie feel any better about them, but they have little choice. They have to protect themselves.

“We’ll do this together,” Josie nods, looking her sister in the eye. “If we stick together, we can survive.”

Lizzie takes a breath and nods before heading forward to the gate and into the open entryway. “Okay, then. Let’s go back to school.”

“You’ve been loaned out.”

Neal’s brow furrows as Peter drops the file onto his desk with the NYPD emblem emblazoned on the front. “The FBI does that?”

“Apparently in this situation, they do. Especially when I owe them a favor.”

Now Neal’s even more confused, blinking up at Peter like he’s got three heads. “What do you mean, you owe them a favor? You’re the FBI. How did you—”

“A long story for another day.” Peter taps on the file. “The case is a murder and fairly local, so it’s out of our jurisdiction, but the people involved are associates of yours, and they think they you might have insight how this happened.”

“And they don’t want me for questioning because…”

“Your tracking anklet data confirms you were with me in another borough investigating our last case at the time of the murder.” Peter flashes him a smile. “See? It comes in handy sometimes.”

“Still chafes.”

“The car will be here to pick you up in twenty to take you over to the precinct. Better use your time to read up.”

Neal waits until Peter crosses the room, and he takes a deep breath. Given that this is a homicide, he doesn’t want to know which of his previous associates are involved. It’s a hell of a way to find out you lost a friend, even in a business like theirs, where risk lurks around every corner. He flips the file open, skipping the pictures for now, before scrolling down to the list of victim names. The scene was a mess, with multiple casualties. He doesn't recognize the first two. The third, Walter Ronin, he knows by reputation, but not personally.

The fourth is Alana Groves.

He had just seen her to catch up for coffee this week, and seeing her here as a murder victim feels out of place. She never liked to get involved in things this messy, things Ronin liked to be involved in. Sure, a fence is a fence, but she preferred the kinds of crimes that had a little more elegance and a little less blood. What was she doing at that warehouse?

He keeps peeling through the file before a shadow comes over his desk. “Mr. Caffrey?”

He looks up to see the officer standing in front of him, and he nods to get to his feet without protest. He’s going to find out who killed Alana. And if he has to work with the NYPD to do it, then so be it.

* * * * *

The officer leaves him at a detective’s desk and tells him to wait there. The nameplate reads “Anna Morasca” and he picks it up before moving to sit in the seat behind it. Quietly, he pages through the Rolodex of names in his mind to see if she’s been caught up in anything notable that he might have paid attention to. Probably not—he’s not usually invested in murder cases, grisly business—but it’s always worth it to pay attention. As he’s busy trying to play six degrees of separation, a pen taps at the toe of his shoes resting on her desk.

“You’re in my seat, Mr. Caffrey.”

He glances up at her, and a grin stretches across his face. No, he definitely doesn’t recognize her. He surely would have remembered that face. Especially since that’s likely the face she would have been wearing for dealing with him. Standing behind her is another female detective, a slightly more amused expression on her face.

“Sorry. I was just waiting a while and there was nowhere else to sit.” He gets up and the detective, who he guesses is Morasca, glances over to the empty seat next to her desk and he looks up apologetically. “Must have missed it. Unfamiliar precinct and all.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She doesn’t look impressed. Probably for the best. “I’m Detective Morasca, this is Detective Monroe. If you would follow us, we have a few questions for you.”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

They weave their way through the precinct and as his eyes run over the drab walls, he can’t help but feel that some part of this is familiar. He has been here before, even if he can’t quite put his finger on why. Eventually, they enter an interrogation room, and Neal frowns.

“I thought you had eliminated me as a suspect.”

“We have,” Morasca says dryly. “But I thought you would be more comfortable here.”

“Yeah, that’s par for the course.” He goes to sit across the table, and as Monroe closes the door behind her, Morasca sits across from him.

“Look, while I understand Detective Danville had good intentions of putting in this call to your handler—”

“Jo!” Neal’s fingers snap as he finally puts two and two together. “I knew Peter wouldn’t owe a favor to just any cop.” He leans forward, more invested in the conversation. “How is she? How are the kids?”

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Morasca frowns, and Neal nods.

“Of course. Continue.”

“Anyway. Our records say that you were a known associate of both Walter Ronin and Alana Groves.”

He shakes his head. “Ronin, I knew only by reputation. But Alana was a friend. She liked the way I did business.”

“You mean how you committed a crime?”

“Tomay-to, tomah-to.” Neal shrugs. “But not wrong. I tried to handle things as bloodlessly as possible. She preferred the theft where no one got hurt.”

“Is it possible to steal something and have no one get hurt?”

“Depends on the con and how patient you’re willing to be. But I’ve shot no one in the commission of a robbery and nine times out of ten insurance makes whoever I steal from the whole. Plus, you realize that art is just how rich people hide their money so they don’t have to pay taxes on it, right? I’m honestly just stealing from other criminals. Victimless crime.”

“The law doesn’t see it that way.”

“Well aware. I have the tracking anklet to prove it.”

“Right.” Morasca takes a breath, and she adjusts her papers again. “So why do you think Alana was working for a man like Walter Ronin?”

“I have no idea.”

“She texted you, asking to meet the day before she died.”

“We had coffee, caught up. She didn’t show that she was in trouble.”

“What did she want to talk about that was so urgent?”

“Why do you assume something was urgent?” Neal isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but it has him curious. “I was just old friends catching up.”

“She’s been in living in Brooklyn for five years now. You’ve been back in the city for two. She picks now to catch up and chat?”

“The FBI makes her nervous, given her line of work.”

“And you didn’t take it a little personally that she didn’t so much as text you before that.”

“Not really, no.” Neal shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. In my line of work, numbers get lost, phones change, and people get busy. I don’t need to be talking to a friend every minute of every day to still consider them a friend.”

Monroe clears her throat, before opening a second folder and sliding a picture across from him. “What can you tell us about this painting?”

Neal raises an eyebrow, before glancing down to look. “From the image? Not much. It looks like a Galveaux. Painted between 1960 and 1972.”

“Any reason someone would want to steal it?”

“On the open market, most of his work runs between two and five million. But there hasn’t been an open display of his work in almost a decade—he wasn’t very prolific and most of his pieces are in private collections.”

“Why not museums?”

“No demand. And it’s one thing when one collector of a particular artist’s work donates access to the art, but the pieces are so spread out and sporadic that they’d have to contract with multiple collectors. Not worth the money or effort for an artist no one wants to see.”

“But they’re worth so much money.”

“Scarcity in action. A few pieces mean a limited amount of clout you can gain from them. That drives up the auction numbers.” He reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, doing a quick search until he finds the painting in question. “See, this one supposedly sold to a collector in Belgium for three point five—” His voice trails off as he tips his head to the side. “And I’m willing to guess he still has it, because this looks like a forgery.”

Morasca blinks. “You can tell that from the photograph?”

Neal looks up at her with a smirk. “I can theorize from the photograph. I’d have to see it in person, but—” He flicks his finger against the screen to zoom in on a small section of the photograph. “—The color story is off here. Peter and I had a similar problem with a forgery a while back. If you don’t look at the piece in a different light, some details don’t stick. Look at this corner compared to the original.”

Both women lean over the two options, and Monroe raises an eyebrow. “Does Alana deal often in forgeries?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugs. “But usually she’s given a heads up in advance. It would have been in her ledger, whether she knew it was a fake. Selling a fake to a guy like Ronin would have been a bad call, though. He would have taken it personally.”

“A ledger—we didn’t find one when we searched her apartment.”

“You wouldn’t have. A ledger is like a fence’s little black book—you wouldn’t keep that where just anyone would find it.”

“Do you know where she kept hers?”

“Lately? No.” But he probably could figure it out if he’s able to get out to Brooklyn. She would have to take him, but he can tell with how skeptically Morasca is looking at him, that might not be on the table.

The detective nods, before running through some boiler plate questions about Ronin, before getting up from the table. “Alright, Mr. Caffrey, I think that will be all. Please send our thanks back to your handler when you get there.”

Neal blinks, before frowning. “Wait, that’s it?”

Morasca raises an eyebrow. “Did you think there would be more?”

“I was told I was on loan. Usually, that implies more than just answering questions.”

“Well, that’s all we need from you right now. But if something comes up, I’m sure we’ll be in touch.” She knocks on the window and an officer opens the door. “Officer McMillian will see you back to the FBI.”

Neal knows he could protest further, but he doesn’t think it would gain him any ground. Morasca clearly doesn’t want a thief mucking around in her case, especially when he isn’t explicitly relevant. So he nods, following McMillan out to the squad car and settling in the back seat on the long ride back to the FBI.

When he reaches his desk, he pulls out his phone and places a quick phone call. “Hey, it’s me. I need you to do me a favor.”

* * * * *

It takes a few days, but on Friday morning, Neal’s phone rings with an unknown number. Given that he’s running a con for Peter at the moment, he errs on the side of caution. “Nick Halden.”

“Already working another con, Mr. Caffrey?”

He smiles. “Detective Morasca. I promise this one is on the right side of the law. What can I do for you?”

“A strange little man came to my desk today and handed me an SD memory card saying that it was related to the Groves case. I take it he’s one of yours?”

“Mr. Havisham visited you at my request, yes. I take it you found what you’re looking for in there?”

“We did. Turns out the SD card was Ms. Groves' little black book, as you so eloquently put it.” He hears the squeak of her old desk chair as she leans back in her seat. “Why so invested, Neal? What do you get out of this?”

“Believe it or not, Detective, I believe some crimes deserve justice. My friend is dead. I want to make sure the person responsible pays for it. Letting you sideline me would not achieve that end, so I worked around the system.”

“I didn’t see it as sidelining you when it wasn’t your case.”

“Maybe not. But aside from the one that killed her, I think you’ll be hard-pressed to find a thief, con artist or crook who worked with Alana that wouldn’t want to get justice for her.”

“Fair enough.” A few clicks come through the speaker. “Your girl also kept copious notes. It’s kind of terrifying.”

“Documentation is the best form of mutually assured destruction. Most fences don’t like to keep records, but Alana found it comforting.”

“Well, it turns out Ronin contracted Alana to find him a real Galveaux. Given that we found a fifth person’s blood at the crime scene, it seems our thief might have gotten away with his forgery. Ballistics look like Alana was shot first, likely when she outed it as a fake, and then the killer got into a firefight with Ronin and his men. Right now it’s just a theory, but unlike before, it’s one that actually makes sense.”

Something sinks in the pit of his stomach at getting confirmation, but it’s a relief to see that the detective is still on it, not just writing her off as a criminal. “Do you have any leads on who the seller was?”

“Not yet, but as soon as we have enough to make an arrest, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.” Then he smirks, fully intending to ruin the moment. “See, Detective? I can be useful when I want to be.”

“I never said that,” she chides, and he can practically see the eye roll. “But I will say that you are a bit more resourceful than I originally gave you credit for.”

“I’ll take it.”

There’s a small silence on the other end of the line, enough to pick up the bustle of the bullpen behind her. “Anyway,” she begins abruptly, not wanting to linger too long. “I have to go help Detective Monroe keep sorting through the documents on that SD card, but I just wanted to say thank you. I appreciate this lead.”

“You’re welcome, Detective. See you around.”

He hangs up before she could respond one way or another and gets back to work. He has a feeling she had at least one more eye roll in there for him. And maybe he’s more than a little curious about seeing her around.

He could always use more law enforcement to endear himself to, if nothing else.

Edited 2022-10-21 21:31 (UTC)

An incessant banging sounds at Seth’s door. Steady but quickly increasing in tempo as he groans, trying to wrestle himself awake. He tries to ignore it, burrow in closer to the warmth of Wynonna next to him who is also rousing, but eventually the banging becomes too much and he just shouts at the person on the other side.

“What?!”

The door opens, and Seth swears, before reaching to pull up the blankets so that he and Wynonna are properly covered. Kate walks through the door frame, notices their state of undress and her eyes go wide before she stumbles back and closes the door.

“Why would you say come in when you’re still naked?!”

“I didn’t say come in! I said what! What is decidedly not come in, Fuller.”

There’s a grumble on the other side of the door before Kate pushes her discomfort to the side and focuses on the matter at hand. “Nicole found a body on the edge of the Triangle.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Seth rolls his eyes. “I know you might be new to this whole scenario, but not every corpse needs you banging on my door like a bat out of hell.”

“A culebra killed it.”

Seth stills, before kicking over the side of the bed and getting dressed. Wynonna whines in response, rolling into the space he leaves behind.

“Why is the warm going away?”

He ignores her, for now, and is yanking his shirt over his head as he opens the door to look Kate in the eye. “Are you sure?”

“Their fangs are distinctive, not like the vamps that usually hang out here.”

“Did they use their venom?”

“Don’t know, but I told Nicole to chop off the head just in case.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you think—” Kate’s voice trails off before she looks up at Seth. “Do you think it’s Santanico and Richie?”

“I don’t know yet. Could just be some random schmuck who made it this far north. We’re not going to know until we find them. And I will find them.”

If it’s not his brother, then killing them is just good business. There’s not enough people in Purgatory to turn this place into a feeding frenzy. If it is his brother…well, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. He glances back to Wynonna, who has tuned into the conversation.

“Get dressed. We’re going hunting.”

She grabs her phone and looks at the time. “It is before noon. There better be doughnuts and coffee.”

“Deal,” Seth sighs. “I gotta make a call. See you at the car in twenty.” If they’re hunting culebras, after all, they can’t afford to be burning daylight.

* * * * *

Wynonna slides into the driver’s seat as Seth finishes up on the phone with Freddie, who likely has been tracking his brother’s last knowns. As the call finishes, he leans back with a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face.

“Freddie said he lost track of my brother a few months ago, after Santanico took out one of the big name culebras who kept her imprisoned. Doesn’t know where he is.”

“Do you really think it’s Richie? After all this time?”

“I don’t know.” Seth drums a finger against the steering wheel. “I really thought that he was just going his own way, but maybe he just had to wait until Santanico got what she wanted.”

Wynonna nods, before resting a hand on his arm. “Well, we’ll figure it out. Tell me what I need to know about hunting culebras.”

“Sunlight, decapitation or a stake through the heart are the basics.”

“Which is why we needed to go now, not wait until later. Catch them unawares with a little sunlight and problem solved.”

“Exactly.” He glances over at Wynonna. “If Santanico is here with him, it’s not going to be your average fight. The older they get, the more powerful they are.”

“If it is Richie, maybe it doesn’t have to be a fight.”

“If it is Richie, I don’t know how it can’t be.” Seth grips the steering wheel tightly. As much as Wynonna’s more even keel has been better for the peace of Purgatory, he’s not sure it’s going to be the thing to solve this situation. “But it would have taken a hell of a lot for him to get up here on his own. So let’s just … save that line of thinking until we find out for sure it’s him.”

Wynonna nods, though the look on her face says she’s not sold. “Alright. Let’s go find some snakepires.”

* * * * *

Fortunately for them, there’s a few motels and hotels in Purgatory, which makes it easy to go knocking on some doors, asking if they had any strange visitors. Most of the locals know that when Wynonna’s asking, it’s usually better not to dance around it, and before long they’ve got a candidate that fits their qualifications. Checked in the middle of the night a few nights back, don’t come out for breakfast or anything else during the day, only seem to make his rounds at night. Getting the room number is easy, and Seth, as confidently as he can, strides his way down to the door and kicks it open, sending sunlight blazing into the entrance. Whoever’s inhabiting the room leaps off the bed and ducks for cover in the shade, which also lends credence to Seth’s opinion he’s in the right place.

“Up and at ‘em motherfucker.” Seth brings up his shotgun to bear, aiming toward the huddled mass in the corner while Wynonna comes in to flank him, Peacemaker at the ready. “You picked the wrong town to snack in.”

“Wait. Seth, wait.”

It is a voice Seth knows, but it’s not the one he’s expecting. He lowers his shotgun, just slightly. “Scott?”

Scott Fuller looks up from the ball he’s in, showing his face, enough to confirm that it is in fact him. Seth hesitates, not sure what to do with that information, but he will glance back to Wynonna with a nod.

“Shut the door.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. But if he makes the wrong move—”

“I got it,” Wynonna nods, closing the door behind her and allowing Scott to relax somewhat, straightening up to his full height. “And this is—”

“Kate’s brother, Scott. Scott Wynonna Earp.” Scott’s eyes widen, and he steps back to plant his back against the wall. Seth snorts in response. “Looks like your reputation proceeds you, Wynonna.”

“I make quite the splash,” she smirks. “Nice to meet you, Scott. Your sister’s a good kid.”

“Thanks, I think? Not like I can take credit for her.”

Seth snorts. “What are you doing here, Scott?”

“Sleeping.” The smart ass attitude remains. “But if you mean what am I doing in Purgatory, I’m here to see Kate. I know she wants nothing to do with me, but I thought, maybe after some time she might have come around.”

Seth doesn’t think Scott is wrong about that. As far as offenses go, not wanting to die isn’t one that ranks high on the Crimes Against Siblings chart. And spending time with Doc before he got changed back into a human did something for her vampire prejudice. But —

“If you thought you could win her over by dropping bodies on the edge of town, that’s not really how you should have gone about it.”

Scott’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “Bodies? What bodies? I haven’t dropped any bodies.”

“Be honest with me, Scott.”

“I am. I haven’t killed anyone.”

“Then how have you been feeding?”

He makes a face, showing that he doesn’t enjoy saying it. “I go to that demon bar on the outskirts of town.”

Wynonna raises an eyebrow. “The Glory Hole?”

Scott grimaces, then nods, the little of that pastor’s kid still showing through. “They have willing feeders there. And they walk away alive and unturned. I swear.”

“We know the owner,” Seth points out. “We will follow up to confirm your story.”

“Fine. But when you do, could you put in a good word for me with Kate?”

Seth swallows before nodding. “Yeah. I can try.” He then lowers the shotgun fully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you know of any other culebras in town? Ones that might not have been so judicious with their appetites?”

Scott shakes his head. “Not that I’ve seen—at least, not anyone I’d know on sight.”

“Alright. You got a number Kate can call you on?” Scott nods and scribbles it down on a piece of motel note paper before handing it over to Seth. “Great. Then we’ll be in touch.”

As Seth and Wynonna head out to the car, she rests her hand on his arm. “Hey, you okay?”

“Better than expected, but no. Not really. I have no idea how Kate is going to take this.” Seth pauses, turning to face her. “But I think he’s telling the truth. I don’t think Scott’s responsible for the body Nicole is working on.”

“Alright. Then let’s confirm that with Emon, and we’ll go from there. We got this.”

Seth nods as he watches her climb into the passenger’s seat and shakes his head. It had been so nice when he hadn’t been responsible for all the fuck-ups around town. Would have been even nicer if it had lasted a little longer.

* * * * *

Seth calls Kate from the hood of the car at the Glory Hole while Wynonna pokes around. It’s clear that Kate had not been expecting her brother to be their surprise visit today, but it at least seems safer than Richie and Santanico popping into town. Not long after he hangs up, he gets a text from Wynonna inside the bar.

Mercedes confirmed that Scott was here around time of death. He couldn’t have made it across town and back to drop off the body. Says he left around five AM.

“Well, at least there’s that,” he mutters into the darkness, running a hand over his face. Unfortunately, with Scott off the suspect list, it puts them back at square one. He drums his fingers against the hood, waiting for Wynonna to emerge when bright headlights cut through the darkness of the parking lot. Wheeling around the front, the car pulls to a stop and out steps a silhouetted figure.

Seth knows in his gut that it’s Richie the second he sees it. You don’t stare at the back of someone’s head on job after job for years and not be able to recognize them in the dark. Eventually, he steps into the headlights in a way that allows Seth to see him, a sly smile crossing his face.

“Hello, Seth.”

“Richard.”

There are a lot of things he could say to his brother. He could talk about how, in some kind of weird messed up way, he missed him. He could ask him what he’s doing here. Instead, his hand falls to his hip, and he’s drawing without thinking, raising his gun and shooting his brother square in the forehead.

Richie drops to the ground and another shadow moves from the opposite side of the car, long black hair blowing in the breeze as Santanico’s annoyed face comes into view through the lights.

“You know that shot isn’t actually going to kill him, right?”

“I’m aware,” Seth replies, sliding his gun back into his pocket. “But it makes me feel better. Santantico.”

“Kisa.”

“What?”

“I go by Kisa now.”

“Good for you,” he retorts dismissively as Wynonna comes running out of the bar, Peacemaker drawn and at the ready.

“What the hell, Gecko?”

“Sorry. No one was maimed in a way they won’t recover from.” He turns and gestures to the woman next to him. “Wynonna Earp, I’d like you to meet Kisa, aka Santanico Pandemonium.” He then gestures down. “And this useless lump here would be my brother, Richard.”

“Oooh.” Wynonna nods, but doesn’t lower her gun. She directs her attention to Kisa. “This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

Kisa shakes her head. “Squabble between brothers. Not my business.”

“Then why are you here, Kisa? It’s been what? Two fucking years?”

“Almost three.” Makes sense that she would count the days since she slaughtered her way to freedom, but Seth still doesn’t actually care. “And we’re here because Richie wants your help.”

“And you don’t?”

“Honestly, I just wanted to see whether you’d actually kill him.” Kisa tips her head to the side. “Seeing him get shot in the face was kind of satisfying for me, too.”

Seth’s eyebrows go up. “He’s got you that pissed off, and he’s still living?”

Kisa’s eyes burn, irritated, and he knows whatever Richie’s done, he’s really stepped in it now. At least he did it somewhat intelligently. His brother’s body twitches into life, and he passes her the gun. “You want to throw in one for posterity?” A gentle testing of how far this wedge between her and Richie goes.

She grits her teeth in response. “I can’t.”

“Huh.” Richie pushes up into a sitting position and Seth shoots him again. “Yeah, that definitely has me feeling better. And seems like we could use a drink. Care to join us?”

“I would love to.” Kisa steps over Richie and heads to the car. As she passes Wynonna, she glances down at Peacemaker. “Is it true what they say about that gun? That it can kill anything?”

“Haven’t met something yet that can’t.”

“Good. We might need it.”

Seth and Wynonna share a glance and Wynonna let out a low whistle. “Wow. She’s definitely—”

“Yeah. She’s something.”

“You sure this is a good idea?”

Seth glances back at her before shaking his head. “Who said this is a good idea?” But right now, it’s the only one he’s got that keeps all of them alive.

* * * * *

“So let me get this straight,” Seth says, as he pours them another round of tequila from behind the bar. “You take out Malvado. Richie stabs you in the back to take over the empire, and now you can’t kill him?”

“Apparently, he figured out that I wouldn’t be too happy about that. Found a bruja that would offer him protection against the culebra that sired him.” She squeezes some of a blood bag into the tequila and knocks back the shot.

“That is … so gross,” Wynonna frowns before taking her own shot. “So is he like … forcing you to do his bidding or something?”

“No,” she admits. “I went my own way for a while, but … we have a problem that’s bigger than my and Richard’s unfinished business. Which is why we’re here, looking for your help, Seth.”

“Why my help?”

“Have you ever known Richard to do anything without your approval?”

“I would have told him not to bite the hand that fed him.”

“Hence why it’s become clear that Richard makes poor decisions when left to his own devices.” Kisa leans forward. “Whatever’s coming, it’s bigger than all of us. This could be the end of the world, Seth.”

Seth glances to Wynonna, who has poured a fresh round of shots. “What are we talking?” she asks. “The big daddy culebra? Monsters? Demons?”

“A little of all the above.”

The doors of Shorty’s burst open in a rush of speed, letting in a peek of the slowly rising sun, and as the door slams, Richie was on the other side of it, parts of his suit smoking from the sun.

“Nice of you to join us, Richie.”

“You know, you really didn’t have to do it again. You made your point the first time.”

“Yeah, but the second was just fun.” He pours another shot and places it in front of the nearest stool. “Sit. Your partner-in-necessity was just telling us what you’re up against.”

Richie nods, taking the shot with a wince before looking up at his brother. “Are you in?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Seth—”

“No, you don’t get to Seth me. It’s one thing with you stabbing me in the back. You turned on her, which means you’re making colossally stupid moves. I don’t know if I want that kind of stupidity on my team.”

Richie looks annoyed, but what else is new. “It doesn’t matter about teams or crews, Seth. This is about the end of the world. Either you’re in or you’re dead. What’s it going to be?”

Seth glances to Wynonna, and she shrugs in return. “Love a good end of the world party. Especially when I get to crash it.”

“Fine. For now, we’re in. So what exactly are we dealing with?”

Richie seems to wave an eyebrow at Wynonna, as though to ask why she has any kind of say in this, but he accepts his brother’s answer and sighs.

“They’re called Xibalbans. And we think they’re coming for the Ghost River Triangle.”

Edited 2022-10-22 16:06 (UTC)

Letting Five time travel them out is clearly not the best choice. Even if that choice is the only choice they have.

Allison drops out of the time bubble in the middle of a city, disoriented and unable to speak. Not the greatest thing for a girl on her own. Fortunately, she arrives in the middle of an alley where she can’t be seen, but as she steps out into the bustling, crowded area of the city, she can’t help but feel like she’s stumbled into a place that is not hers. But, given the people wandering around casually and no one panicking and running for their lives, she has to assume that the world isn’t ending.

That has to be an upside, right?

She scans the street for a moment, and a payphone comes into view. Sighing with relief, she cuts down the sidewalk and picks up the receiver, not thinking for a second that she can’t use it. But her lack of a voice doesn’t really matter, given that when she puts the receiver to her ear, there’s no dial tone.

She frowns, lifting her fingers to hang up and try to restart the connection, but still nothing.

“I don’t think that works anymore.”

Allison turns, and meets the eyes of a teenage girl, backpack slung over her shoulder. The girl seems to be decked out in some kind of superhero merchandise Allison doesn’t recognize. She doesn’t understand why the payphone wouldn’t be working—wouldn’t that be dangerous in the event of an emergency?

“Yeah, everyone’s got smartphones now, so they stopped maintaining them.”

Allison blinks again. What the hell is a smartphone? The girl seems confused by the look on her face and Allison gestures to the bandage on her throat before gesturing for a paper and pen with her hands.

“Oh! Got you!” The girl slings her backpack off her shoulder before flipping what looks like a sketchpad open. Allison takes it from her with a grateful look, before writing:

Smart phone?

“Yeah, everyone’s got one.” The girl pulls what she assumes has to be a smartphone out of her pocket and holds it up for Allison to see. It’s about the size of a memo book and has a screen like glass. Apparently, everyone just carries a phone in their pocket now. The girl registers Allison’s confusion and blinks in surprise. “Wow. You’ve really never seen a smartphone before. That’s … wow.”

Allison looks apologetic, before writing: Guess they don’t have them where I’m from. Which is weird to say, but she’s getting the sinking suspicion that she’s not where she’s supposed to be. What year is it?

“2026. Did you get super extra blipped?” Allison must look confused enough that the girl seems concerned. “Look, my name is Kamala. Do you need some help?”

Allison nods eagerly, before writing again: Allison. Please.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Weird stuff happens here all the time. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out. But first things first: gyros! We’re going to need brain food.”

Allison nods, before following the girl’s lead. She’s still not sure what she’s doing, but she knows one thing. She’s starving.

* * * * *

Well. Wherever Allison is, it sure isn’t home.

No Umbrella Academy. No, Reginald Hargreeves. There’s a thing called the internet that lets you look up whatever kind of information you want, and the internet works with the phone in your pocket so you can literally take it wherever you go. Allison can tell that Kamala’s confused about explaining all these technological advances to an adult, but once she gets the complete story out of her (thanks text to talk), she gets on board so quickly.

“You must be from another universe or something. A universe where the internet and the Avengers don’t exist.” Kamala’s eyes look wide. “No offense, but it sounds like your universe sucks.”

Allison makes a face and nods. She’s not really sure there’s another way to swing that one.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

Allison shrugs, before picking up Kamala’s phone and typing. “Have to find my siblings. Make sure they’re okay.”

“I can help! You can’t be out there on your own, with no voice and no one to turn to.” Kamala takes her sketchbook back. “Describe them to me. All of them.” A beat as she looks down at the smartphone. “As best you can, anyway. I can pass them around to the hero squad and if any of them show up in Newark, we’ll be able to find them.”

Allison hesitates, not really knowing if it’s the best choice to just be putting her siblings' faces out there. Especially since Diego was just charged with murder. But if she’s in another world, truly, especially one where she doesn’t exist, she knows she cannot get home without her family. She nods, and slowly starts typing out descriptions for each of them, giving Kamala enough guidance to draw them with accuracy.

When all the drawings are done and lined up on the library table in front of them, Kamala looks over at Allison with a small frown.

“Can I ask you something a little personal and probably inappropriate?”

Allison lets out a huff that could have been a laugh. Her vocal chords ache with the effort to try, but it still needs more time. “Sure.”

“What happened? To your voice.”

Allison frowns, and then types quickly: “Fight with my sister.”

“And she slit your throat?” Kamala looks horrified. “That’s cruel, even for a sister fight.”

It’s a lot to explain. She knows that. And the idea of trying to type it all, all the context and nuance, feels exhausting. So instead, she says: “I hurt her first.”

“It’s still not right.” Kamala frowns, before gathering up her drawings. “Okay. You’re going to need a place to stay, and if you’re from another universe, you probably don’t have any money. But! Lucky for you, I think I know someone who can help.”

Allison’s gotten herself this far, trusting Kamala. She thinks she can handle trusting her a little further.

* * * * *

For the long ride to the city, Kamala explains a lot to Allison. The Avengers, the Blip, Captain Marvel and Photon, who she claims are part of her superhero team. And then Kamala introduces her to the sorcerers who live in New York City. They give her a spare phone so that Kamala can have hers back, and she’s still not sure if she can trust it all, but the Sorcerer Supreme, as he calls himself, is very nice and apparently dealing with multiversal shenanigans is their specialty. Kamala says goodbye and that she’d pass on the drawings to Photon—she works for the government, she might help find them.

As Allison leans back on the bed that night, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out how her life turned into this, she reaches for her phone and sends a quick message.

I used to be a superhero too.

She pauses, staring at the text bubble and feeling like that’s not quite enough. After a pause, she sends another:

I think you’re better at it than I am.

As she rolls over, she can already hear the dings of all the questions that she’s going to have to answer in the morning, but she’s so exhausted that she closes her eyes and drifts off to sleep.

* * * * *

Apparently, the world really ended.

Stephen Strange can confirm that for her, and that grief is a punch that has her secluding herself in her room for days, if not weeks. Because while there’s a chance that her siblings may be out there, if the same thing that happened to her happened to them, but that’s not a guarantee. And no matter what, her daughter is dead.

That kind of loss is something that knocks you from your feet.

Kamala keeps texting her throughout. She doesn’t know how much the sorcerers told her about Allison’s situation, but the texts never explicitly reference it. In the end, it’s a lot of cute pictures and videos, and information about the world she’s currently living in. She never begrudges her if Allison doesn’t text her back, and over time—a lot of time—she sends funny pictures back.

This internet thing, it can be a kind of fun, even if it is terrifying.

Still, it takes months for her to really feel up to being social again. It helps that her voice is coming back, raspy as it is, and she can talk more than she has to type. She still should rest it, and she does not know if her power works, but it makes her feel a little more like herself. She does her best to earn her keep around the Sanctuary, so she doesn’t feel like she’s freeloading, and she even goes and does a minor crime fighting with Kamala occasionally.

It makes her feel like she’s going back to her roots, and she never hated being a superhero. She just hated doing it her father’s way. She might not be able to rumor anyone, but she can still throw a pretty good punch. And it turns out to be a pretty good release for some of that grief and anger.

One night, however, they bite off more than they can chew. Kamala stumbles across actual organized crime, something where there’s more of them than there are of Allison and Kamala. And while they handle themselves well in the beginning, things take a turn.

Allison gets slammed into a wall, one goon having a hand against her throat. She lets out a groan of pain, before scrambling to get a handhold that will give her an advantage, but she can’t seem to get a grip.

“Just stay still, bitch.”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” Yeah, the snark she remembers how to do. She keeps the blade away from her skin until she sees Kamala slam into the opposite wall and go down hard. Panic floods her, and she knows she can’t let what happened to Claire happen to Kamala.

With a surge of adrenaline, she twists the wrist of the man in front of her and shoves the knife into his shoulder. The man screams in pain and falls to the ground next to her. Kamala’s goon raises a gun, and she knows she won’t be able to make it to the other side of the alley in time.

“Hey, dipshit!”

He looks up, glancing at her, and she reacts in the quickest way she knows how.

“I heard a rumor you shot yourself in the foot.”

To her relief, waves of power ripple through the space and she watches as his eyes go white. The gun shifts, from pointing at Kamala to pointing at his own foot, and he fires. He screams in pain, but Allison’s able to cross the alley and slam his head back into the brick wall, dropping him to the ground.

“How did you do that?”

She glances over and Kamala is staring up at her, eyes wide. Allison extends a hand to help her up.

“I told you I used to be a superhero.”

“That’s … so cool. But also really scary, all at the same time. So glad you’re not a supervillain.”

“Yeah, as much as they have style, I don’t actually enjoy being evil.” Allison looks her over quickly. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for having my back.”

“Hey, Ms. Marvel’s not going down on my watch.”

She hears the click of the safety sliding into place and turns to see the goon she’d abandoned raising his gun. Allison quickly moves to stand in front of Kamala. When two blades come from the side, one embedding itself in the goon’s wrist. He screams and drops the gun, and Allison’s head snaps in the direction they came from, only to see her brother’s face coming out of the shadows.

“Diego?”

“Holy shit, Allison.”

He covers the space between them in two easy strides, and envelopes her in a warm hug. She squeezes him back just as tightly, relieved that she isn’t the only one, not anymore.

“Did you throw those knives from around the corner?!”

They break and both look at Kamala. Allison pauses, swiping some tears from her cheeks. “Diego, this is Kamala, my friend. Kamala, this is my brother Diego.”

“Hey, kid. Nice costume.”

“Thanks! Think you can teach me how to do that knife trick?”

Diego grins before nodding. “Sure. After I catch up with my sister, I’ll show you everything I’ve got.”

“Cool. I’ll text Dr. Strange and Wong to make sure they have an extra room.” Kamala activates her bracers, heading for the rooftops, and Allison turns to steer Diego towards the sidewalk.

Diego blinks as he and Allison. “Dr. Strange and Wong?”

“Oh yeah. Do I have a doozy of a story for you. Tell you all about it on the way back.”

One sibling down, only four more to go. And for the first time in a long time, she starts to feel something almost akin to Hope.

[Next]

Edited 2023-10-17 02:45 (UTC)

Elena Gilbert has never considered herself one to have a bad boy streak.

Mystic Falls had few boys that fell into the wrong side of the tracks category—enough to give the town some color, and regardless, there will always be the haves and the have nots. But all the options in that department, none of them, she truly found appealing. There are a lot of stoners who spend most of their time half-gone from the world rather than living in it, and that’s not the partner Elena wants. No, Elena is happy with her choice, her handsome, predictable quarterback, and they are what everyone expects from a high school couple.

She didn’t understand until Dean Winchester walked into the Grille one night.

She, Bonnie and Caroline are tucked into a back booth when the door opens and he strides in like he already owns the place. Even from a distance the swagger is enticing, and her eyes track him as he moves through the room to the bar, another younger teenager trailing along behind him, and she doesn’t realize she’s staring until he gets Caroline’s attention:

“Who is that?”

Bonnie glances back over her shoulder and nods. “That’s Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam. Their dad is an old friend of my Grams. He’s in town for work and Sam is transferring in until the end of the year.”

“Not Dean?” Elena asks, confused.

“Nah, he’s nineteen. I think he got his GED or something.”

“He’s hot.”

That exclamation by Caroline seems to come out a little too loud and attracts the attention of the boys in question. Dean appraises the three girls at the table, and Caroline, shameless girl that she is, waves back. But when he meets Elena’s eyes, she can’t help but feel the flush catch her cheeks and she glances down at her food.

You have a boyfriend, Elena. A boyfriend you love very much. It’s a reminder she puts on repeat as the two Winchesters slide up to their table and Dean flashes them a smile.

“Hey, Bonnie. Mind if we join you?”

Bonnie asks a silent question to the rest of the table, but Caroline is two steps ahead of her: “Of course not. I’m Caroline, and this is Elena.”

“Hi,” Elena manages half-heartedly before diverting her eyes again. She can feel him watching her, and she doesn’t like the way it makes her stomach clench. “Welcome to Mystic Falls.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiles, before pulling up a chair to tuck onto the end of the table, as Sam grabs the one next to Bonnie. “It’s a cute little town. Almost like something out of a movie.”

“If it’s a movie, it’s a pretty boring one,” Bonnie admits, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “But we make the most of it.”

“I’m sure you townies know how to have fun now and then. We’ll figure out ways to pass the time until we’re ready to go.”

“How long are you staying in town?” Caroline asks, likely to know how much time she has to figure him out.

“Till the end of the school year. Our dad is checking out early, but he promised Sammy he could finish out the year.”

Elena raises an eyebrow. “You guys move around a lot?”

Dean shrugs. “More or less. Our dad’s work is everywhere, so it keeps us on the move.”

“What about your mom?”

She notices the instant she says it that it’s the wrong thing. Both boys' faces flicker. “Our mom died a while ago.”

"Oh, I'm sorry." Elena winces because good job, Gilbert. That’s a nerve to hit on. “I’m just … being out on the road all the time, never staying anywhere for too long, it sounds—”

“Awesome,” Dean fills in, just around the same time she says: “Lonely.”

Silence falls across the table again, almost immediately. Caroline pinches Elena under the table, flashing her a look like what are you doing? Elena wishes she knew, because usually she could read a situation a little better than this. But eventually Bonnie clears her throat and looks at the rest of the group.

“How about a game of pool?” Bonnie looks over at the Winchesters. “Do you guys play?”

Dean grins again, almost as though the not quite insult has just glanced off him and back into the ether. “Oh yeah, we love pool.”

So do the girls. In fact, Caroline does some of her best flirting over pool. Dean returns in kind, firing back with a comfortable banter. She doesn’t know if she actually sees it going anywhere, but it’s a fun way of distracting Dean from her, leaving Elena alone with her very out of character thoughts.

Dean plays pool like he’s trying to prove a point, and he is good. Sam is too. She wonders how often they have time to play when they’re traveling so much. She’s envisioning a lot of bars and a lot of drunks that the boys could hustle for their money. Elena plays pool with little conviction. Sure, she likes it when she’s playing with her friends, but that doesn’t mean she’s good at it.

Eventually Matt and Tyler show up, and Elena’s focus finally switches completely, focusing on the guy she’s with rather than the one who’s trying to occupy too much of her mind. But that doesn’t stop Dean from watching her, instead, and she doesn’t know what to do with that.

* * * * *

A couple of weeks before school ends, Elena comes across Dean on the side of the road, covered in blood.

More accurately, she almost runs him over. He appears suddenly in the middle of her headlights and screams as she swerves to the side, unsure how to process the sight. Once the car is stopped and she has it in park, she kicks the side door to her dad’s car open and glares at him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he mutters, but he sounds dazed. Anger flips quickly to concern when she turns him to face her and she can better see the contusions on his face.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Dean shakes his head. “I was going for a run and tripped, and by the time I landed, it completely turned me around.”

The lie makes little sense—there are no jogging trails this far out of town—but she knows Dean doesn’t owe her the truth either. Instead, she just inspects him, pulling at his clothes to get a better look at where the blood is coming from.

“Relax, relax. I’m fine.” He stumbles backwards, trying to get away from her, but he sways a little too far and Elena slips in to help catch him.

“You’re not fine. You need a hospital.”

“Nope. No hospitals.”

“Dean, you could have a concussion.” He doesn’t look like he’s going to budge and she huffs. “Will you at least let me help you get those cuts cleaned?”

“Does it involve a hospital or doctor of any kind?”

She shakes her head. “Only tangentially, but they won’t actually be there.”

Dean weighs his pros and cons for a minute before looking around and nodding. “Okay. Okay, fine.”

Battle won, Elena slides him into the passenger’s seat of her car and pulling back onto the road back to Mystic Falls. He’s quiet for most of the drive and she doesn’t push him, not saying anything until they pull up to the front of Gilbert Family Medicine.

“You said no doctors.”

“He’s not here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because usually around this time of night, Dr. Gilbert is back home, making dinner while my mom pours him a glass of wine.”

Dean stares at her for a moment before realization hits. “Doctor Gilbert is your dad.”

“Yes, he is. And he always puts the keys to his practice—” She leans across him, flipping open the glove compartment and pulling out the keys with a jingle. “—In the glove box. Just in case.”

“Smart.” Dean nods. “Alright, let’s do this.”

Grayson Gilbert has always made sure that his children knew at least the basics of first aid. Elena has never been super into medicine, but she can recognize the value of it, especially when so many animal attacks turn up in the woods. She wants to be ready, just in case she can be there to help. She lets them into the practice and they head to one of the care rooms, and she gestures for him to sit on the exam table.

“Take off your jacket so I can see.”

“Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?” He flashes her a cheesy grin, and she rolls her eyes.

“Why are you this way?”

Dean laughs. “I don’t know. Caroline seems to like the way I am.”

“Caroline is single and free to flirt back.” She reaches for some bandaids and antiseptic before turning to face him again. “I have a boyfriend, and you know that.”

“Yeah. And yet you spend a lot of time looking at me when you don’t think I’m looking.” There’s a challenge in his gaze, and she’s forced to look up from one scrape and meet his eyes. She knows she should challenge back, and not let him have the last word, but at the moment, she can’t come up with a good excuse. So instead, she looks back down at the slice on his arm.

“This is going to need stitches. I can’t do that for you.”

“I got it.”

“What?”

“I can do them. Just give me the suture kit.”

Elena raises an eyebrow. “You’re going to give yourself stitches?”

“It’s not that bad. And it’ll free you up to do other stuff.” Elena seems to concede that point, and when she gets the kit, he continues. “Besides, it’ll probably be a lot cleaner than the way we usually do it.”

She doesn’t have to imagine that he gets hurt a lot. She can see the scars, some of them pretty clearly. There are pictures of a dirty motel room with a lighter, a needle, and the wrong thread. She pauses halfway there, and she asks again, because she can’t with a clear conscience.

“Are you sure you’re okay with your dad?” she asks. “Is it safe?”

“What?” Dean scoffs at the implication. “Yeah, we’re fine. We just don’t always have money for doctors and hospitals. American medical system and all that.”

Elena’s not sure she buys the excuse, but she lets him have it, not sure what else she can say. She bandages the smaller cuts as he stitches, checking his extremities for broken ankles and checks for a concussion, which comes back as inconclusive. She drives him back to the bed-and-breakfast where he and Sam are staying, and she parks the car out front.

“I texted Sam. Told him to keep you up for a little while, just in case you have a concussion.” He’s about to slide out of the car, and she asks him one last time. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Our life isn’t yours, Elena, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. We’re okay. Promise.” He slides out of the car and heads to the door, and Elena looks up to meet Sam’s gaze in the window.

From what she can see, she’s not sure she believes it.

* * * * *

Elena loves Matt. But sometimes, Elena doesn’t like him very much.

Part of it is Elena envying how certain Matt is of her future, when she does not know what she wants out of life. She knows she could keep following this safe, steady path, the path her parents followed, where she marries her high school sweetheart and gets a job and raises a family and never leaves the borders of Mystic Falls and it would be a good life.

But Elena doesn’t know if it’s a life she wants, and while she doesn’t want to hurt Matt, she’s not even sure of that much. It’s not fair. She should break up with him, but then she’d lose him, and part of her can’t bear that either. Even before the world tried to steal everything from her, Elena was a girl who couldn’t learn to let go. Still, she cracks under the pressure, picking a fight and deciding that she’s definitely not letting him take her home tonight.

The fight, at least, is enough for her to get away from him for a little while. She grabs a beer and stalks off into the woods, wanting to get some space to give herself a chance to calm down. She should call her parents, see if she can get a ride home—she’s suddenly in not so much a party mood. But she wants to give herself a chance to calm down first so they don’t worry about her sounding upset.

“You really shouldn’t be out here on your own.”

Elena spins around on her heel, beer sloshing, before looking up at Dean with wide eyes. “Dean, you scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to. But I also wouldn’t have been able to live with it if you got picked off by a wolf or something, so I figured it was worth the risk.”

She takes a breath to steady herself before taking another sip of her beer. Things with Dean had been different since that night in her father’s office. A grudging respect, an understanding between them that had made things somewhat easier. It’s dangerously close to friendship, or could be, if there wasn’t the traitorous part of her that entertained the idea of something more. “I’m fine. I just…needed some air.”

“Yeah, I saw.” Dean moves closer, closing the gap between them. “Seems like you and your boyfriend haven’t been getting along so well tonight.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes he gets on my nerves.”

“Huh. So Mr. Perfect isn’t that perfect after all.”

Elena rolls her eyes as he keeps moving closer, eyes darting around the trees as though he’s looking for something that might pop out of the background. “He just … wants things I’m not so sure I want.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess. White picket fence, two point five kids, living in the house that your parents buy for you on your wedding day—”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not. Not really. But only if it’s what you want. But if it’s not what you want and not the people you want, then it’s probably the closest thing to actual torture.”

She glances over at him, finally recognizing something about his own opinions that actually resonates with her. She sighs, tipping her head back to look at the trees above them.

“I know I should break up with him. That I probably should have broken up with him a long time ago. But…he’s been my best friend since we were babies. Even if I don’t want to be with him, I still love him. I just don’t want to hurt him.”

“I don’t really think that’s something you can avoid, Elena.” Dean admits. “You can do it with kindness, but everyone gets hurt sometimes. That’s just how life is.”

And just like that, the moment of understanding is gone, because she’s grown up in the idyllic bubble of Mystic Falls her entire life. And while it’s not that she hasn’t seen the darkness or occasionally seen people get hurt, her life hasn’t been hurt and harm. She doesn’t want that to change.

“Why does it have to be? Maybe he’ll just realize what I’ve realized. That this isn’t working.”

“And if he doesn’t, then what?”

She turns to face him, and suddenly he’s too close. She should push him away, but part of her also feels like touching him might cross a line she can’t come back from. So her hands hover, just a breath away from the softness of his cotton shirt and she eventually, she says:

“I have a boyfriend, Dean.”

“That you don’t want.”

He’s not wrong, but: “He’s still my boyfriend. I won’t do this to him.”

He holds her gaze for a long moment, then takes a step back. She set the boundary, and he respects it. And she appreciates that more than she could ever say. “Well, your boyfriend took off with Tyler. That’s what I was originally coming down here to tell you. If you give me a minute to find Sam, I’ll take you home.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just call my parents.”

In the months after, she’ll look back on this moment and wonder what would have happened if she had said yes. If she let him take her home, regardless of the consequences, that would have come with it. Even with Sam in the car, it still feels like crossing a line, regardless of whether Matt had abandoned her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He nods and takes a step back, heading towards the sound of the party. “Then at least come back to the rest of the group. I still don’t think you should be out here alone.”

Elena nods and follows him back up the path, pulling out her phone by the time she got to the top. And to think, she missed Family Night for this.

* * * * *

Elena doesn’t make it home that night. Her parents’ car goes over Wickery Bridge, and by the time she wakes up, the Winchesters are gone and she realizes just how much the world can hurt. She does all the things she should have done before, and the hurt only spreads outward, enveloping everything that Mystic Falls used to be, until it isn’t really a bubble anymore, isn’t safe anymore. And maybe that’s for the best.

But almost fifteen years later, Dean Winchester saunters into a gas station after her, and tilts her world off its access again, but this time it isn’t so scary to jump.

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Request plurkCompleted: 31/31Word Count: 63,823

REQUESTS

Re: REQUESTS

10/1 ~ i chose you ~ felderwin ~ 2,430

no subject

10/2 ~ nobody warned you about me? ~ darkest timeline (original timeline) ~ 1,446

10/3 ~ that was not my intention ~ felderwin ~ 3,428 ~ part 1

10/3 ~ that was not my intention ~ felderwin ~ 3,428 ~ part 2

10/4 ~ how would that even work? ~ dctv ~ 1,985

10/5 ~ no, anything but that. ~ puppy love ~ 2,563

10/6 ~ adaptable. i like that. ~ the umbrella academy/kingdom of the wicked ~ 2,006

10/7 ~ check that again, are you sure? ~ felderwin ~ 2,197

10/8 ~ do you remember? ~ wynonna earp ~ 1,344

10/9 ~ sounds like a you problem ~ leverage/watch_dogs ~ 1,324

10/10 ~ it's my name on the line ~ everyone lives ~ 2,968

10/11 ~ think! for once! (1/4) ~ wynonna earp ~ 1,044

10/12 ~ you're making my head hurt ~ tvdverse ~ 3,241 ~ part 1

10/12 ~ you're making my head hurt ~ tvdverse ~ 3,241 ~ part 2

10/13 ~ i don't want you to do that ~ everyone lives ~ 1,483

10/14 ~ yes. no. i don't know. ~ felderwin ~ 2,345

10/15 ~ what are you doing? ~ dctv/marvel cinematic universe ~ 1,707

10/16 ~ you're looking but you don't see (2/4) ~ wynonna earp ~ 1,193

10/17 ~ are you serious? ~ the magicians/dctv ~ 2,133

10/18 ~ i don't think this is your problem ~ the magicians ~ 1,736

10/19 ~ do we have a deal? (3/4) ~ wynona earp ~ 1,280

10/20 ~ there's only us ~ felderwin ~ 1,973

10/21 ~ i never said that ~ white collar/csi:ny ~ 2,492

10/22 ~ who said this is a good idea? ~ from dusk til dawn/wynonna earp ~ 2,837

10/23 ~ not on my watch! ~ marvel cinematic universe/the umbrella academy ~ 2,216

10/24 ~ is this safe? ~ everyone lives ~ 3,002 ~ part 1

10/24 ~ is this safe? ~ everyone lives ~ 3,002 ~ part 2

Request plurk
Completed: 31/31
Word Count: 63,823