iluvroadrunner6 | prompts { 2023 } fictober

Jo wins the Merge.

Most people would consider it a good thing. Luke considers it a good thing. Jo definitely considers it a good thing. Josiah probably would consider it a good thing too, but he’d never actually admit it to her.

Father of the year right there.

Liv should consider it a good thing. She could look at the relief that comes with the alleviation of the bone-crushing certainty of death that’s been impressed upon her since she was a young child and see freedom in it. She gets to choose the trajectory of her life now.

She gets choices.

The idea of choices makes her never want to get out of bed.

Liv Parker never planned on having a life past the age of twenty-two. She went through the motions, sure, but she always knew that Luke was going to win. Even her father did, though he never let Luke believe as much. He wanted his heir to be strong, which means letting him think he was going to have to fight for that very thread of survival. But Liv always intended to throw the game because she is not a leader, and she loves her brother more than anything else in the world.

The relief that comes with not being the one to kill him is unreal. But that doesn’t make the idea of what to do with the rest of her life any less complicated.

There’s school. She has a degree she could finish. And after that, she could find a job, like a normal person, and live the rest of her life. Advance her career, deal with whatever magical needs the coven has, get married …

Nope. They’re not going there.

“Are you going to class?”

Luke’s voice has her burrowing under the blankets, pulling the soft cotton up over her mess of blond curls. She doesn’t want to talk about it, and she thinks that response says enough. There’s an irritated huff from the other side of the comforter, but he doesn’t press her further, leaving the dorm room and shutting it behind him.

Liv closes her eyes and goes back to sleep. That decision has a bonus of putting off all the other ones.

* * * * *

The next day, Liv goes to class, as she’s decided that the routine is nice, and it gives her less time to think. The text from Jo arrives in the middle of Alaric’s history course, where she glares daggers into the back of his head for honestly no good reason. At first she thinks it’s some kind of sisterly-slash-leader of the coven ESP where she would prefer Liv not kill her husband-to-be with the power of her stare. Turns out it’s just good old-fashioned sibling betrayal.

Luke is worried about you.

She huffs before firing off a quick response: I’m fine.

She has a feeling that Jo doesn’t believe that any more than Liv does. Liv barely believes it today, even if she’s doing all the normal things like brushing her teeth, taking a shower, eating…she’s damn near functional. Instead of the crushing weight of death, she’s feeling the crushing weight of the future and she’s not sure if she likes it better or worse.

Class ends and she makes her way out into the hallways and she finds Tyler there waiting for her. She immediately wheels around to take hold of her arm, but he’s faster than her and grabs her arm before she can get away.

“Not so fast.”

“Let me guess, Luke narc’d to you too?”

“Maybe. But even if he hadn’t, the line of texts you left on ‘read’ might have done the trick.”

“I was tired.”

“You’re freaking out.” They escape out the front of the hall door and he pulls her around the corner so that they’re out of the walkway and have some privacy. “Because you’re suddenly not going to die anymore and you don’t know what to do about it.”

Her mouth opens, then it closes. It’s rude that he knows her this well when she was putting so much effort into not being known at all. Into putting her distance between them to not add to the pile of hurt she already had going. She thought she was being kind by pushing her away, but he keeps drawing her in like a magnet and she really hates that about him sometimes.

“No, I’m not,” she lies, terribly. “I’m thrilled with my newfound lease on life.”

Tyler gives her a flat look, showing that he knows that response is a pile of bullshit. She shifts her shoulders a bit to shrug him off her.

“Do you want to get a drink?”

She should say no. Drinking likely will lead to feelings and feelings will lead to talking, and talking is the thing she doesn’t want to do right now. But the talking part probably won’t happen for a while, and maybe at that point she’ll be drunk enough to not make any sense. She can maintain her standard of being an enigma.

“Fine.”

They get a bottle of whiskey from the local liquor store and Tyler drives them out to some hidden area of Mystic Falls where they can actually be alone. Three whiskeys in, and she’s resting her head on his shoulder, staring out into the blackness of the night sky, and she sighs.

“You forget how many choices you have to make about the future when you don’t think you’re going to have one.” She doesn’t know why she finds it easier to talk to Tyler than anyone else. Possibly because anyone else she has the option to talk with is forced to deal with her by blood, but Tyler actively chooses her, over and over, even if she doesn’t choose him back. “I feel like I’m so fucking behind now. Like … yeah, I went to school, but it was mostly just killing time until Luke killed me and now I’m stuck with an English major.”

She makes a face.

“How am I going to find a job as an English major when I don’t even like other people?”

He laughs. “You could change your major. That is an option.”

“Do they have a magic major? Because witchcraft and pissing people off are literally the only things I’m good at.”

“I will give you that you are very good at both those things.”

“Thank you.”

“But I also don’t think that’s all you’re good at.”

“Maybe not. But I don’t know it right now. Every choice I’ve made so far has been with the expectation of a fast-coming expiration date. Now I have to make a whole new set of choices and a lot of them are …”

“Scary? Because you might have to admit you want something.”

There’s a weight to those words that makes her feel his eyes on her. She knows that while there is no pressure on this conversation, there is something he wants her to admit. He wants her to want him. But wanting him now differs from how she wanted him before. Wanting him now means an expectation if this maybe becoming something infinite versus finite.

How can she give him that when she can barely commit to anything for herself?

“Yeah,” she eventually manages. “And honestly, I haven’t figured any of that out yet.”

“You don’t have to right now. That’s the beauty of having time. You can figure it out later.”

She knows he’s right. She just wishes it felt a little lighter. Instead, she abruptly changes the subject.

“What about you? What does Tyler Lockwood want?”

He’s quiet, and the weight of his stare shifts from her to the stars above them. She knows he’s still figuring a lot out, from the werewolf waiting in the wings to whether or not he even wants to stay in Mystic Falls. But there’s a sense that he wouldn’t be triggering this conversation if he didn’t have thoughts about something.

“I got offered a job by the Armory. I’m leaving after the wedding.”

“Oh.”

So there is a choice with a timetable on it.

“I’m not rushing you.” He’s quick to reply, and she knows it’s a half-hearted attempt to relieve the pressure that he just put on her. “But I wanted to give you the option if you decided you wanted to get out of here for a while.” There’s another long silence as she processes that, before he speaks too soon, again, like he’s trying to make up for a mistake somewhere. “What we are doesn’t have to change.”

If she’d been more self-aware at the moment, she might admit that him telling her things doesn’t have to change is disappointing. It’s something that she’ll dissect later, when she’s had more time to think about it. (Does she want them to change? Is that a choice she’s going to make, keeping Tyler regardless of how much she feels like she doesn’t deserve to?) But she also sees the other choice he’s offering her.

The Armory isn’t a bad option for someone who’s good at witchcraft and pissing off people.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” Apparently thinking about it is a better response than he was expecting, because the tension shifts just enough to lighten the mood. “Do you want more whiskey, or for me to take you back?”

Part of her really wants more whiskey, but when she glances down at her phone, there are texts from Luke wondering where she is. She sighs.

“Guess I better go home.” He doesn’t fight her on it, and takes her back to the dorm. When she pushes the door open to let herself out, she glances back at him. “Still be my date to the wedding?”

He blinks, surprised, before nodding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Cool.” She flees from the car before she changes her mind or does something stupid to fuck it up.

After getting yelled at by Luke for just disappearing from campus without a word, and he leaves for a date or something, she flops down into bed. Instead of reaching for the covers to pull up over her head, she reaches for her phone instead, scrolling through the numbers until she finds her sister. After hitting send, she listens to the ring until Jo picks up on the other line.

“Liv?”

“How much do you think Dad would kill me if I dropped out of school?”

Turns out having your older sister back to talk to can be really helpful.

* * * * *

Being a bridesmaid means arriving separately to the wedding, but once her hair and makeup are done, she waits outside the venue for Tyler to arrive. She needs to do this before the party, so he doesn’t think it's liquid courage deciding for her. He blinks, confused when he sees her, and frowns.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—”

“I dropped out.”

Liv’s transitions have never been artful, and it’s even less so now. Admitting out loud that she wants something is terrifying. Even if realizing that she wants Tyler is easy.

“You dropped out.” He’s trying to put the puzzle pieces together to go with you.

“Yeah. And I thought that … if you want me to, if it wasn’t too late, that I could go with you. Because I don’t know what I want out of my life yet, and I don’t know what I want us to be even, but I don’t want you to go yet.”

Tyler’s cautiously approaching her, like he’s afraid she’s going to spook if he moves too fast, which…honestly, valid. She swallows, then continues.

“So…are you okay with that?”

He smiles widely before nodding, one arm snaking around her waist. “I’m okay with that. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“I mean, I was probably going to wind out dropping out, anyway. Maybe do the asshole rich kid thing and just travel for a while. But … you’re the one thing that I’m really sure that I want. So I’m going with it and hoping I don’t land flat on my face.” She looks up at him earnestly, already hating being this vulnerable. “So … is it too late?”

“It’s not too late.” He smirks. “I’d say let’s go right now before you change your mind, but I don’t want your sister to kill me.”

“Probably shouldn’t kiss me either. She paid a truly stupid amount of money for this makeup.”

He laughs. “After the pictures, then?”

“Sounds like a plan.” They head back into the venue hand in hand, and for the first time since the Merge, Liv feels like the weight of her choices is a little but lighter.

Sometimes all you need is a little forward momentum.

Edited 2023-10-01 18:38 (UTC)

Fen finds it odd the way people treat her in the palace.

She is important but not, surrounded by magic but not magical herself, a fixture of the palace that most of the advisors are content to ignore. She moves through her day to day, usually keeping company with the kings and queens, but most of the time, she fades into the background.

She is the High King’s Consort, the result of a deal made with Quentin before he realized what he was doing, and therefore has no opinion that matters, therefore she should be ignored. Never mind the fact that she’s the only native Fillorian of the bunch. Never mind that sometimes even the kings and queens don’t want to deal with her because they have bigger things on her plate.

That’s why Fen likes when Julia comes to visit. Julia actually treats her like she’s there.

For this visit, they’re sitting on the dais behind Eliot and Margo as they go through the daily business in Fillory. Tick is droning on and on about the different unimportant interests while she and Julia catch up and the High King and Queen get increasingly more bored. Fen is only paying half-attention, focusing on her conversation with Julia, when something flickers through the crowd.

It’s not magic, at least not that she can tell. It seems to be one noble angling for a better seat. But something about him seems off. His clothes are fancy enough, he certainly looks clean enough, but there’s something about him that just—

“Oh, no.”

“Fen?”

What Fen knows better than anything is knives. She knows what it means to carry them; she knows how you would need to hold them, and she knows what it would take to throw one. His shoulder shifts to bring the blade up and Fen reacts before she can think. She’s up and pushing Eliot out of the way just in time for the blade to fly.

Everything bursts into a flurry of chaos after that. Margo is casting battle magic over her head. Julia shouts and points, likely bringing in magic of her own. Eliot has his arms around her as he pulls her into a sitting position.

She realizes, belatedly, that she didn’t hear the knife hit the wall or the ground. She looks down, and Eliot shoves his fingers under her chin, tipping her face up towards his.

“Don’t look. It’s better that way.”

Naturally, that makes her want to look down and her head twists out of the way of his fingers. They travel down the length of her, admittedly, beautiful dress until she sees a blotch of red and the hilt of the knife sticking out from her gut.

“Oh, no.”

She thinks it should hurt more, being stabbed. She also thinks that the knife doesn’t belong there and when she goes to pull it out, Eliot grabs her wrists more firmly.

“Even an idiot like me knows you don’t pull a knife out of a stab wound. Julia!”

“I’m here.” Julia’s face appears over hers, and her eyes glow. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

The knife is yanked out, and her head swims a bit, because that hurts. A warm glow spreads across her abdomen and her eyes glance to Eliot again.

“I think I might pass out.”

She doesn’t give him much time to protest that before everything slips into darkness.

* * * * *

When she wakes up, she’s in her room, and Julia is by her side. She looks down, and while her dress is still bloody, she can see at the break in the material there’s nothing but unblemished skin. She glances back up with a sigh of relief before turning back to Julia.

“Thank you.”

Julia startles when she realizes Fen’s awake and makes her way closer with a smile. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay. Or … I will be okay. Eliot and Margo?”

“They’re good. Margo is pissed and trying to figure out where the security lapse was, so they’re busy with that, but I’m sure they’ll swing by to see you once they’re done.”

Fen will take that bit of optimism, though she has a feeling it will probably take time. Assassination attempts are not something to be taken lightly. But she reaches for Julia’s hand all the same because she has a feeling that if she wasn’t there, it could have been a lot worse for Fen.

“I’m so glad you were here.”

Julia smiles before moving to slide into bed next to her. “That was pretty brave, by the way. Diving in front of a knife for Eliot.”

“I was hoping to be faster than the knife. That … didn’t really work out.” She looks down at her dress with a frown. “But I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”

“Me too.”

Fen feels her eyes close again, shifting to rest against Julia’s shoulder. “It’s weird that I’m so tired when you used magic to heal me.”

“You still lost a lot of blood. Your body is trying to catch up.”

Fen nods before squeezing Julia’s hand gently. “When I wake up, we can go see your trees.”

She can feel Julia smile before pressing a kiss against the crown of her head. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

“Good,” she sighs as she drifts off again. Fillory may be an unsafe place, but it’s good to know that she has good friends.

Growing up in a farming country teaches Bo two things:

First, an abandoned barn might seem like a great option for squatting, but it’s actually a recipe for falling through a floor of rotting wood to certain death.

Second, a too well-maintained barn is also not a great option, as those owners check on their property and possibly set things like alarms. Or have dogs.

This barn that she’s attempting to sneak into seems to split the difference between the two. Not abandoned and well maintained, but the older couple who lives there seems to be out of town for the weekend, leaving behind their teenage son. She can handle a teenage son. She is, in fact, a teenage girl with many assets they value—at least if they are into girls. Right now, however, the dark of the farm provides her plenty of cover as she wanders up into one loft where there’s plenty of hay and a soft place to sleep.

“Home sweet temporary squatting situation,” she sighs to herself as she arranges her things. A duffle bag with everything she owns in it, including a beat up pillow and a blanket that has seen many worse-for-wear locations. But, if she’s honest with herself, this actually might be one of the better nights of sleep she’s had in a while. She just wishes it had a shower.

Bo peers out the loft window to check the state of the driveway—a beat up truck sits in the driveway, but no lights on in the house. The son must be out cold or just out. She gives herself permission to sneak down and try to find a house or something that might give her the chance to get clean.

“Come on,” she murmurs to herself. “Mama wants to feel like a human again—Ha!” A triumphant fist shoots into the air as she finds the spigot with a hose attached. Glancing again for any lights in the farmhouse, she kicks out of her boots and strip free of her clothes. She’s far enough from the road and it’s dark enough that she should be nearly invisible. She’s down to her bra and is wiggling out of her jeans when she hears the footsteps a half second too late.

“Is someone out—oh my god.”

“Oh, my god!” Bo looks up and sees the broad shoulders of the son she was worried about spinning away from her. Bo tries to dive back into the barn and out of view. With her skinny jeans halfway down her thighs, it’s less of a leap and more of a clumsy stumble, leaving her landing hard on the stone floor of the barn. “Ow.”

“Are you okay?”

“Nothing wounded but my dignity.”

“Can you please put your clothes back on?”

“Working on it.” She gives up on getting to her feet, just rocking back so she can pull her jeans back over her hips, and then sticks her hand out from behind the door. “My shirt, please?”

There’s some shuffling, before the worn flannel passes into her hand and she pulls it back into place over her breasts.

“So why are you stripping in my barn?” the son finally works up the nerve to ask, and Bo at least has the decency to blush as she makes her way back around the corner.

“I was going to use your hose for a shower. I didn’t realize anyone was home. Or awake.”

“I have good ears.” He quips. “Why my barn?”

“Again, I didn’t think anyone was home and unfortunately for me, I don’t have enough money to crash at even the crappiest motels in Smallville.” She gives him an apologetic look. “I was planning to be gone by the morning. I didn’t mean to be any trouble.”

Clark nods as he glances over at her. She sees it when he realizes that she’s just a kid, like him, and then glances back at the house. “You can come in and use the shower. At least you’ll have some hot water.”

“Really?” Her face brightens at the prospect of a real, hot shower. “Wait, why?”

“You seem like you need it. And … my parents are out of town and it’s actually kind of weird and lonely in the house.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Not worried I’m going to rob you or something?”

“Are you?”

He looks at her intently, like he’s listening for something in her voice, and it’s the first time she gets a really good look at him. Handsome, in that corn fed kind of way. Eyes sharp but earnest. Sturdy on his own two feet, but everything about his body language is open, welcoming. She can’t really say she’s ever met anyone like him.

“No,” she answers honestly. Robbing isn’t really part of her modus operandi. That doesn’t mean that this kid will get away clean if he keeps trying to spend time with her, but … well, no one is going there just yet. They did just meet, after all.

“Then come in and use the shower. And then maybe we could go get you something to eat.” He waits for her to grab her things before following him inside. “The Harvest Fest is happening in town.”

“Sounds fun,” she smiles as she steps in the door after him. “I’m starving.” She pauses once she’s inside, and realizes she hasn’t even fully introduced herself. “I’m Bo, by the way.”

He turns back to her with a nod and offers a small smile. “Clark.”

* * * * *

The Harvest Fest is exactly the small-town schtick she expects from a town called Smallville. That doesn’t mean that Clark isn’t right about the food being delicious. The fried cheese curds are top-notch, and she makes a contemplative happy noise as she pops one in her mouth.

“So what are they celebrating harvesting, exactly? Is Smallville known for a specific crop?”

“It’s not really about that,” Clark replies, tearing off a piece of his funnel cake. “It’s more about taking care of each other. Donating what we have and sharing it with people who need it.”

“People like a nineteen-year-old runaway who you find in your barn?” She nudges him with her shoulder and he laughs.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “But I would have helped you whether or not it was Harvest Fest.”

“You know, Clark, I already believe that about you. And you’re probably not even hoping you’ll get lucky.” His ears turn pink as he looks away from her awkwardly and she laughs. “See what I mean? Pure boy scout.”

An awkward smile crosses his face, and as he glances up, and something catches his eye. She follows his eyeline until it lands on another girl, being pretty intensely flirted with by another teenage boy. One who is distinctively less boy scout. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t,” he admits and she frowns.

“Let me guess. Ex-girlfriend.”

“Yep.”

“New boyfriend?”

“Technically, her old boyfriend in a new relationship.” He shrugs. “It seemed to go back and forth between the two of us throughout high school.”

“Ah.” She tips the box of cheese curds towards him. “So what stage are you at in this whole getting over her process?”

Clark gives her a hapless look. “Honestly? I have no idea. When I’m out at school, I can focus on school and everything’s fine, but when I come home…”

“You see her, and it gets all confusing again?”

“Something like that.” He clenches his jaw briefly. “It’s not even about her, really. I just wish I knew whether I was ready.”

“How many girls have you been with since her?” Clark gives her another hapless look, and her jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You don’t have college co-eds just climbing all over you?”

“I’m not … good at girls.”

“Guys who look like you don’t normally have to be good at them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bo raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re not aware that you’re totally hot?”

Clark’s ears turn pink again as he looks away. “No one’s ever put it in quite those words.”

“Well, you are. Even if you are a little too trusting and kind of a nerd,” Bo turns to step in front of him before adjusting her clothes to give her assets a bit of a boost. “But those things can be hot too. What you have to do is own it.”

“And how do I do that?”

Bo takes a step closer, playing, curling one string of his hoodie around her finger. She’s all too aware of the signal it sends across the midway, and she knows that his ex and her new boyfriend are watching. “By acting like you’re ready to move on.”

She can feel the heat rising from his skin, but to his credit, he doesn’t back away. She can feel a different hunger stirring and while she does her best to push it down, that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. But this will not go too far. This is just playing a game to make his ex jealous—that’s all.

Clark’s eyes flare with something, a bit of curiosity, maybe even a touch of desire, but he focuses all of his attention on her. It isn’t even really about the ex at all, is it? It’s just having some confidence in himself. Not the first time Bo has turned herself into a magnet, but this feels different somehow.

“Act like a guy who knows that he’s here with a girl like me.” She says firmly. “And carry yourself like you know what that means.”

His shoulders square slightly at the challenge before looking down at her intently. “I know what that means.”

Maybe Kansas is her kind of guy, after all. She grins as she uses his hoodie to pull him closer. “Okay. Show me.”

* * * * *

Kissing Clark is like … well, it’s safe to say it’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before. Future Bo, when she’s learning about the Fae, will probably attribute it to him being something like that. But Current Bo barely knows what she is, never mind trying to discern non-humans by how they taste. She just knows that there’s something otherworldly about the taste of him. Like a rare delicacy that she doesn’t know she’ll have again, and she simply wants to devour him.

He tries to do the gentlemanly thing, after kissing her in the middle of the midway, and realizing that things are going to be more than just that one kiss. He invites her up to his room, says they don’t have to spend the night in the barn. But empty bedrooms in the family home are for girlfriends, not a stowaway who might leave you dead in the morning, so Bo refuses.

His parents shouldn’t have to come home to that.

When she wakes up the next morning, tucked into the loft in a cocoon of heavy blankets, she almost dreads rolling over. At least, until she feels the body shift next to her, one heavy arm moving to drape across her waist, before stilling as he goes back to sleep.

He’s alive. Clark is alive?

She rolls over to face him, trying to move slowly enough that she doesn’t wake him, but there he is. No telltale shadows on his face. His chest rises and falls in the space between them, and part of her wants to cry. She thinks, maybe, just for a moment, that this nightmare may be over.

But she also knows she can’t stay. His parents will be home in a few hours, and they probably don’t want to catch their son naked with a girl in the barn. So she slips out from under his arm, quietly gets dressed, and turns back to him when he gives a quiet mumble.

“I have to go,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But thank you.”

A few stops from now, she’ll realize the nightmare isn’t over. And it’ll take her years to figure out what made Clark from Smallville, Kansas special. But when she gets on that bus and drives off into the distance, she can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders.

Maybe Harvest Fest had something to give her after all.

Shawn bursts through the door of the Wanderer Police Force with the fervor that would leave most people concerned. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a few days. With none of the telltale signs of nacho cheese and other accouterment that shows a late-night movie marathon versus genuine stress. He can see the concern on Anna’s face when he makes his way forward and slaps the large piece of paper in his hands down on her desk.

“Something is happening.”

Anna holds up her hands tentatively, as though trying to calm a spooked dog. “You okay, Shawn?”

“Not really.” He’s tired enough to admit it, and he goes to flop into the seat across from her. “I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in a few days because I keep seeing this mess and I need someone to do something about it so I can actually sleep.”

“Alright.” The concerned look doesn’t fall from her face as she looks down at the sheet of paper, trying to make sense of the mismatched imagery. Her brow furrows as she looks up at him again. “I don’t know what any of this means, Shawn. Do you even know what this means?”

“…Kinda?”

The “kinda” isn’t exactly reassuring. He can tell by the look on Anna’s face. She stares him down, and he sighs before leaning in closer and pointing at the various symbols he’s drawn. Shawn is many things, but he’s not a great artist, that much is clear.

“So remember that scene in Ferris Buller when he’s on the parade float dancing to ‘Twist and Shout’?”

“Yes, you’ve made me watch it several times.”

“That’s where I think it’s happening. It’s the what and when that’s a little … fuzzy.”

“That’s not really a lot to go on.”

“Unfortunately, that’s really all I’ve got.”

Anna takes a deep breath before nodding. “Okay. We’ll go check it out and see what we can find. It’s not like I had anything better to do today.”

Shawn leaps to his feet with a nod and a smile. “Nice. I brought Irma so we can have hot dogs on the way.”

Anna smirks as she gets up to follow him out the door. “Even if your tips are a waste of time, at least you feed me.”

* * * * *

They make it to Dearborn street easily enough, with Shawn pulling Irma to a stop in the nearest parking spot he can find, which took time to find. As they prepare to hit the streets, Shawn shoves the rest of his hot dog in his mouth while Anna surveys the street.

“Okay, so. Are you … getting anything?”

“I am getting…” There’s a pregnant pause before he turns and points to a set of stairs close to where they’re standing. “…that I’m expecting a group of cool cats to come dancing down those stairs to work it on out.”

She sighs. “Shawn.”

“You know, Anna, you can work and have fun at the same time. I do it all the time, especially when I’m solving murders.”

“So you’re saying this is a murder now?”

“It might be.” He makes a face. “The visions haven’t been all that clear, but given that Chicago is worse than Santa Barbara in terms of disasters afoot, I wouldn’t take it off the table.”

“Fair point.”

Anna heads down the sidewalk, keeping her eyes open for any sign of disturbances, and Shawn does the same. They wander for a few hours, trying to find something that might give any sign of what’s coming, but come up with nothing. Shawn picks up a pair of ice cream cones as she comes back to Anna’s bench with a nod.

“It was a long shot. But I appreciate you coming out with me all the same.”

“Any time.” She takes the ice cream from him with a smile. “Do you think checking it out will help you get some sleep?”

“Hard to say. But I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Sometimes with these visions, that’s the best they can do. But as he tips his head to chase a trail of ice cream down his hand, a rift opens up not too far from them, and a massive creature pushes through to the other side. Astride its back is a small, gremlin looking creature that raises its tiny spear in the air.

“I AM THE GREAT KARNACK AND I AM HERE TO CONQUER THIS PLANE.”

The voice is so tinny Shawn almost can’t make out the words, but pieces of his vision flash through his mind and oh.

Oh, no.

“Uh, Anna?”

“Yeah, Shawn?”

“I think that’s our guy.”

Anna follows his finger as it points to Karnack and his noble steed, which is running about the size of a city bus. Her eyes widen, hand slumping to the side a bit as her ice cream falls to the ground.

“Did he just say that he was here to conquer this plane?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Great.” Anna turns to look at Shawn. “This feels above our paygrade.”

“So, what are we going to do about it?”

Anna pulls out her journal and flips to a blank page. “Call in reinforcements.”

* * * * *

It takes some time, but eventually they get the right people for the job to come and talk Karnack down. Fortunately for them, his mighty steed is much more interested in Shawn’s hot dogs than he is in world domination, so it doesn’t take much to distract him.

Flack and some of the other local Chicago leadership sort through the situation. In the meantime, Anna wanders over to where Shawn is sitting on the bench, feeding hot dogs to the beast one at a time.

“Apparently, his name is Wallace,” Shawn says affirmatively.

“And how do you know that?” Anna raises an eyebrow. “Do your psychic powers come with a side of animal telepathy?”

“Nope.” Shawn reaches over and shifts part of the harness around the creature’s neck to reveal a golden tag. “He has a name tag.”

“Well…nice to meet you, Wallace. You two seem to be made fast friends.”

“Yeah, he’s a pretty gentle giant.” He then reaches over to the spot on the bench next to him, retrieving a slushie to pass to his friend. “Thanks again for helping me figure it out.”

Anna glances down at the slushie, but doesn’t decline. “Are you trying to bribe me with food, Spencer?”

“Positive reinforcement usually does wonders,” Shawn teases before grinning at her. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Anna shakes her head. “But the next time we go on a vision wild goose chase? I’m going to be expecting something classier than hot dogs and slushies.”

He grins before Wallace nudges his arm, looking for another hot dog. “Deal.”

It’s a few days' travel from the edges of Xhorhas to Zadash, so it means a few days on the road. They actually find a tavern room in Shady Creek Run thanks to a friend of a friend of Wynonna, but this night they’re camping. Alice cast Tiny Hut over them as an extra protective shield, but they still agree to sleep in shifts, just in case.

The people they’re dealing with are clearly powerful. They don’t want to be caught unawares.

Sam and Alice volunteer to take the first shift, much to Wynonna and Waverly’s chagrin. The newly found sisters are still feeling uneasy with each other. Given that neither of them is going anywhere, it’s likely for the best that they get some time to actually talk. In the meantime, Sam and Alice’s rapport is getting better, but it’s still not what it could be. Part of him knows it will never be what it was. But there’s a part of him that still reaches for it, hoping that there’s a way back.

As the sisters drift off to sleep, Sam settles with his back against the hut, facing the opposite direction Alice is to cover their bases. He has his spell book resting on one side, while he adds the sketch of the men they’re looking for to the rest of Dean’s notes. It’s not making any more sense than it did before they came to Xhorhas, but at least Sam now knows what they look like.

“Did anything we found make Dean’s notes make more sense?” Alice asks as she moves to settle on the opposite side of him.

“Kind of?” Sam shifts a bit. “Wynonna identifying the mark as being related to the homestead means whatever this is has been happening for a long time. And I don’t know for sure who put Dean onto it. But we know what they look like—which means maybe we can try to scry on them?”

“If their cult has been avoiding detection for this long, they may be impossible to scry on.” Alice gives him a slightly chiding look. “You’re smart enough to know that.”

“I know that,” he sighs, because she’s right. He is smart enough for that. But he’s also been a Volstrukker long enough to know that sometimes people slip up. Scrying on powerful people is a matter of rolling the dice and hoping you catch them on a bad day. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Alice chooses not to argue. Instead, she gestures for him to hand her Dean’s journal so she could have a closer look. He hands it over without thinking twice, shifting to look up at the stars as she studies the book. She takes it before looking up at him.

“No caveats? You’re just going to give me your brother’s journal?”

Sam glances back at her. “You’re the smartest person I know. If anyone can find something Jo or I missed in Dean’s chicken scratch, it’s probably you.” Even if she and Dean have never met, maybe Alice can see something he missed.

She smiles slightly, her head dipping so that her hair falls in her face as she brushes through the pages. “I might need more than a few hours with it.”

“Well, we still have a bit of time to travel back to Zadash, and depending on how long Jo and Duke take in the mountains, you’ll have time.”

“Okay.” She closes it after a moment, before inching closer, leaning into him a bit. His breath catches at the contact, and while he tries to keep it subtle, she’s close enough that it’s hard to tell whether or not she notices. She then reaches over and pulls out the spell book he keeps by his side, and holds it up to him. “I want to talk about this, though.”

Sam’s brow furrows as he fights the urge to pull it back from her. He’s had that spell book since he started at the Academy. It really helps him crack magic, and he doesn’t understand what Alice has to be concerned about.

“My spell book?”

“How did you get this spell book again? I think you told me back at school, but I … I wasn’t really paying attention.”

She seems almost ashamed at that, but she had bigger priorities at the time than figuring out why Sam couldn’t get his magical shit together.

“I found it in the library. It just … it felt like it was meant for me.”

“Mmm.” She pauses as she flips open the pages, running her hands over Sam’s careful handwriting as he wrote the incantations and components needed. He wonders what her spell book looks like. He hasn’t really hasn’t seen it since school, when they used to compare the spells they mastered in the brief moments when things weren’t about Charlie or Jedikiah. “We’re friends, right?”

The hesitation in her voice almost neutralizes the small thrill that they’ve graduated to friends again. He swallows hard, pushing down the swirl of contradicting feelings and nods. “Yeah. We’re friends.” As much as he’s friends with anyone anymore. And he called her to be here. That counts for something.

“Be careful with this.”

The warning takes him by surprise. He knows she means it as a kindness—she’s a Necromancer and an expositor of the Cobalt Soul. She’s likely seen and has been more cautious with strange magic than he has. Especially given that the Volstrukker mentality is mostly to collect and hoard, rather than understand.

After all, there’s nothing that the Cerberus Assembly loves more than ancient, powerful, unaccounted for magic.

“What do you mean?”

“Most wizard’s spell books feel like the wizard’s magic.” Alice turns to look him in the eye, making sure she has his attention. “Magic … it has its own signature, because people channel it in different ways. Like I’m a wizard specializing in necromancy, and I’m very technical in my casting—it’s going to feel different from how Waverly casts. She’s channeling a divine being and the knowledge domain, so she’s also pretty technical, but arcane magic feels different from divine. You’ve always been really instinctive, on the fly, and it smells like salt and matches. I feel like with how close we were, I always knew your magic.”

She pauses, before closing the book and bracketing it in her hands. “But the spells that you’ve been casting lately—they haven’t felt like you. More and more, they’ve been feeling like this.” She pushes the book forward and places it back in his hands again. “And … I’m not sure that this is good.”

Sam pauses and thinks about the things about him that Alice doesn’t know. The years spent under Jedikiah’s tutelage. The night with Jo in the roadhouse that he doesn’t remember. Things that could have twisted and corrupted his magic. But Alice is warning him about this book for a reason. She sees something he doesn’t.

And regardless of how long it’s been, he trusts her.

“Okay.” He can accept the warning. Look into it more when things with Dean have settled. When he has space for more than finding out what happened to his brother and why. Sam’s committed to being better, after all. He will not let himself get pulled further into a trap that he might not have realized he was straddling.

But as their shift ends and they trade off with Wynonna and Waverly, he hears a quiet whisper in the back of his mind. Almost like Jedikiah’s voice whispering in his ear all those years: Or maybe she wants to steal it from you first? As he drifts off to sleep, that nagging nugget of insecurity settles in firmer than he’d like to, because he knows he can trust Alice.

Right?

Thea plops down on the couch next to Laurel and raises an eyebrow at her. “You’ll never guess what I saw at the Christmas party.”

“You probably saw many things you weren’t supposed to see at the Christmas party.” It’s one of the minor side effects of having a Christmas party thrown by Tommy Merlyn. It means the children present might have seen things they weren’t ready for. Thea rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I’ve seen worse at clubs.”

Laurel’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing sneaking into clubs?”

“Oh my god.”

“Thea, you are thirteen.”

“Like you weren’t doing some of the same things at thirteen?”

Laurel clamps her mouth shut because she doesn’t have a rebuttal to that necessarily. Playing older sibling to Thea isn’t the same as it was for Sara, where they were so close in age they enabled all of their worst decisions. With Thea, she has to set an example. “I plead the fifth.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, fine, what did you see at the Christmas party?”

“I saw you getting caught with a certain hottie super soldier under the mistletoe.”

Laurel can feel the blush creeping up her cheeks, and she shakes her head. “I didn’t think anybody saw that.”

“Well, I did, and I need all the deets.”

Laurel pauses, frowns, and then glances back to Thea. “You actually want to talk about that?” She doesn’t know why she’s so surprised. Thea’s always been one for gossip, but Laurel didn’t expect her to be so … pleased about it.

Thea studies her face, then reaches over and places a hand on her shoulder. “I loved my brother. But he could be a massive tool. Also, he’s dead. Believe it or not, I think it’s a-okay for you to move on if you’ve found someone you want to move on with. I definitely think you shouldn’t be waiting for a dead guy who snuck off on a boat with your sister.”

“It’s not just—”

“Oh, it’s a lot of that.” Thea replies. “And it’s something you really need to let go of because one, Steve is hot. Two, he’s actually nice. He talks to me like I’m an actual person and not some tag along little kid. Three, did he I mention that he’s hot?”

“Okay, please stop objectifying my friend, thank you.” Laurel sighs as she pulls her closer. “I know it’s been a year and I really need to move on. I just … I’m not sure what’s holding me back.”

“Is he a bad kisser?”

Laurel’s face turns wistful for a moment, before shaking her head. “No. Definitely not that.”

“Is it the whole Avenger thing? Because I guess to some people that’d probably be a lot.”

“It is, but … no.” She can handle being with a hero. Being an Avenger is just Steve’s job. He’s so much more than that. “It’s definitely a me problem. There’s nothing wrong with him. And I do really like him.”

“Then I think you need to finish metaphysically breaking up with Oliver.” It feels like a quip, but there’s more truth to it than she thinks Thea realizes. She pushes the thought to the back of her mind to percolate for when she and Thea aren’t spending quality time together.

“So. Movie?”

“Yes!”

* * * * *

After returning Thea to the Queen Manor, she pauses and deviates her steps on the way back to her car. She turns and heads back towards the grounds, not stopping until she’s standing in front of the large headstones they erected for Robert and Oliver, even though their bodies were never found. She tries not to think of her sister’s equally empty grave, and how she’s never going to get that closure either.

One hurdle at a time.

She pauses, staring at the stone representation of Oliver and sighs, folding her legs under her as she sits on the ground. At first, she’s not really sure what to say—breaking up with a headstone isn’t something they teach you how to do—but eventually she just starts talking.

“I can’t wait for you.” She pauses, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans. Admitting this to anyone has been such a struggle, and it seems to just flow out of her once that stopper is pulled. “I don’t know why I am. I keep waiting for you, so that we can have this conversation face to face, even though I know you’re not coming back. I know that you’re dead and we’re never going to have that closure. And that sucks.”

She pauses, takes a breath. This feels good? She continues to let the headstone have it.

“And you know what else sucks? You. You were a really terrible boyfriend. I think a part of me always knew there were other girls? But my sister, Oliver? Really? And it’s bad enough that you were sleeping with her, but you also got her killed too and that … I can’t forgive that.” Another deep breath. She nods. “So we’re done. I will not waste any more time worrying about how I’m living my life because of you. I’m just going to have a life.”

She takes one last deep breath and lets it all go for good. Time to move on.

* * * * *

She flops back on her couch and reaches for her phone as soon as she gets home. It doesn’t take her long to scroll through and find Steve’s number. She intends to go with her newfound weightlessness for all it’s worth, and she hopes she’s not reading things wrong. On the second ring, he picks up and she can hear the smile in his voice.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You busy?”

“Nothing that can’t wait.” She hears a shift from light conversation to open air silence as a door closes behind him. “What’s up?”

“So I was thinking about Christmas.” Before he can work himself into a panic, she finishes with. “In a good way.”

“Oh. Good.” He still sounds nervous, and she fights the urge to tease him. “In what kind of good way?”

“In that I would like to do it again sometime? If you’re okay with that.”

“I’m definitely okay with that,” he nods. “In fact, I have some time off coming up, if you want to come out to DC for a little while? Maybe meet some of my friends. Or…friend? There’s only really one of them.”

“I’d love that,” she smiles. “Just send me the dates and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.” Steve pauses. “Everything okay? I know when I left, things were a bit … awkward.”

“They were. But it absolutely wasn’t you. It was just some me stuff I needed to sort out.”

“Okay.” He pauses as he nods. “And you think you’ve figured it out?”

“I think I’ve made some much better choices for me. I’ll tell you all about it when I visit.”

“Good. You can help me find some good places…”

As their conversation fades into its normal routine, she can’t help but smile as she settles in to listen. Sometimes, moving on is worth more than you realize.

“Hey.”

Five gets her attention as she sits in the lobby of the Kashtta, tossing a cutout piece of cloth down on the table in front of her. Attached to it is a metal emblem, a bird in a circle, and while she doesn’t know it offhand, there’s something almost familiar about it. She blinks up at him in confusion and he as he asks the obvious question.

“Do you recognize this?”

She shakes her head. “No? Should I?”

Five makes a face—Allison talking in his head gets no less weird, and she knows that, but she needs the practice. She also knows that if he wasn’t coming to her with a concern, he’d chide her for not practicing with her actual voice. She will not get it back if she doesn’t use it.

Yes, she knows. Don’t rub it in.

“I found it attached to what looked like some kind of super suit. Found it ditched near the trolley. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was one of Dad’s. The material reminded me of the suits he put us in when we were kids.”

Allison frowns again and reaches down to pick it up. She sees what he means. Stretchy and breathable, but sturdy at the same time—yeah. This seems like their father’s work. But what’s with the Sparrow? And where did it come from? She leans back in her seat, trying to do the math when she realizes it's near the top of the month.

“Did a trolley just come in?”

Five nods. “Just like clockwork, as it does every other month.”

“Then maybe it belongs to someone newly arrived. We could track them down and find some answers?”

“That’s my plan.” Five raises a hand towards the door, before turning towards her. “Shall we?”

Allison nods, getting to her feet and grabbing the sparrow emblem behind her. “What happened to the rest of the suit?”

“I left it where I found it.”

She gives him a look at that. That person will not be happy that Five ruined their suit. He gives her one like that, before commenting:

“If you have something to say, Allison—use your words.”

She immediately rolls her eyes before following him out the door.

* * * * *

They spend the first hour heading back to the spot where Five found the suit, and circling outwards from there. They talked to a few newcomers and could send them toward the Kashtta, but nothing that fit with what they were looking for. As the sun sets, Five opens his mouth.

“We need to talk about your voice.”

Of course he does it in the most Five ways possible. Allison’s silence is her response, deciding not to dignify it with one. They do not need to talk about her voice. She can communicate just fine. Case in point.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “You need to practice using it, Allison.”

”What’s the rush?” she points out. “It’s not like we can’t speak.”

“This isn’t speaking. This is you being creepy while I get annoyed.” There’s a longer stretch of silence before he softens his tone, trying a different tack. “Have you tried it since it healed?”

She remains silent again, though this time it’s more contemplative. Like she’s trying to figure out the right answer to this. Has she tried? There’s been a few croaked words here and there, but sometimes feels too heavy and she closes it again, not wanting to tempt fate.

Five takes the silence for what it is after a while. “You need to try. I know it’s hard—” She flashes him a look, and he holds up his hands in surrender. “—I can imagine it’s hard. But you can’t rumor anyone with your telepathy. You’ve tried.”

“I don’t need my rumors to protect myself.”

“Maybe not. But I would feel better if you had them. You never know what we’re going to come up against.”

Allison lets him have the last word as they come up to the front door of the Crowbar. They’re here to get information, not discuss her unwillingness to move forward any further. She knows that he’s not wrong. She knows that he’s just trying to help her, in his own awkward Five way. But she also knows that this is something that she needs to do on her timetable, not his. She can’t rush it.

She lets her eyes scan over the room as Five does the same, both of them looking for something familiar out in the crowd. Even if there was, she doesn’t know if she’d recognize it. But as she’s about to signal to Five that she has nothing, Five is looking dead ahead, frozen by something that she missed.

“Is that—?”

Allison follows his eyeline until she meets a familiar profile at the bar. Something that makes her heart drop into the pit of her stomach and is also enough that has her response flying out of her mouth before she can give it a second thought.

“Ben?”

Her voice sounds crackling and dry from lack of use. But it’s her voice, and it’s loud enough to get the attention of the young man at the bar. He turns at the sound of his name, and when his eyes land on the two of them, he scoffs.

“Great, it’s you two.”

Allison rears back as Five snaps: “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, what—you end my world, and I’m just supposed to be happy to see you?”

“What do you mean, ‘end your world’?” Allison fires back, and Ben recoils.

“How the hell did you do that? Is that part of your power upgrades?”

Power upgrade? Allison isn’t sure what to make of that, and thankfully, Five speaks up first.

“Listen, numb nuts—you’re in Chicago now, and that means everything with time is royally fucked. So beyond the fact that you look like our brother Ben, we don’t know what you’re actually talking about.”

“Great. So we have to start over with the whole ‘I’m not your brother’ bit? Just peachy.” Ben looks supremely annoyed, but Allison is suspecting that’s just his default expression. “Fine. If you want to be caught up, grab yourself a drink. You’re going to need it.”

Allison glances back over at Five. She raises an eyebrow as though to ask silently: Do they actually want to know? Five looks back at her, and while she can see the war on his face, part of him needs to understand what happened with the apocalypse. Allison can’t answer that question for him, but maybe this Ben can.

“If he continues being a dick, I give you full permission to test if your powers work on him.” He flashes her a thin smile before making his way up to the bar to grab a seat next to Not Their Ben. Allison hangs back, taking a deep breath, before moving up to join them.

This should be fun.

* * * * *

Eventually, Ben leaves them at the bar, having swallowed down that they somehow fucked up their lives so royally that they’d never been born. Allison has no idea how to process that, or the implications that lie beyond it, and Five looks like he’s shell-shocked from all the information.

“Do you ever wish that you could just … not be yourself for five minutes and make better choices?” He’s drunk enough that he’s actually talking to her like a person rather than a know it all. She’s drunk enough that she doesn’t think too hard before she responds.

“All the time.”

Five snorts before looking down at his glass again. “I thought you liked your Hollywood life. That’s what the magazines seemed to say.”

“Yeah, well, those magazines were fake. And to be honest, a lot of the time so was my life.”

Five looks up at her again, then frowns. “Because of the rumors?” She nods. “Is that why you don’t want to—?” She shakes her head, taking another swig of her drink before responding.

“The last time I tried to rumor someone, I wasn’t fast enough, and they slit my throat. I don’t know if I can do it again without seeing that night, and until I can do that, it’s not safe for me to use it.”

Five nods, before resting his chin in his hand and giving her arm a squeeze. “Can you just try? For me. Just so I know, if worst comes to worse, it’s there.”

Him knowing doesn’t mean she has to use it. It doesn’t mean she has to hurt someone or worry about being too fast on the draw. It just means she needs to try. And maybe knowing for herself will be better, too.

“I heard a rumor,” she whispers slowly, trying not to strain her vocal chords too much, “that you were done drinking for the night and went to sleep.”

She watches as his eyes go white in front of her, and then his head droops down into a sleeping position next to her. She knows she’s going to have to get some help to get him back to the Kashtta, but that she can manage. Now he knows that her powers still work.

She knows too. Time for her to decide if she’s able to live with that.

“So. About Halloween.”

Ryan glances up from the show they’re watching and turns to look at her, a confused expression his face. “Did we have plans for Halloween?” There’s a pause, and he reframes the question. “Or do you want to make plans for Halloween?”

“I do not because it’s my turn to cover the school.” It’s besides the fact that Ric is still out in Seattle with Jeremy and Jo, but it would have been her turn, regardless. She’s not trying to weasel out of it, as much as she would prefer to spend her Halloween evening literally any other way. “I was wondering if you’d like to hang out with me, though.”

Ryan smirks. “Isn’t that, by default, making plans?”

“No. Plans are fun things like a date that do not involve work. This will involve work. It will be boring, but it might be nice to have another adult to spend it with.”

“And if I say no?”

“I will totally understand. You are free to spend your Halloween evening, however you see fit.”

Ryan nods before his brow furrows again. “Does Halloween mean something different for a school of supernatural kids than it does for a school for regular kids?”

Caroline shrugs as she considers. “Some witches who follow witch holidays might plan something for Samhain, but that’s about on the supernatural end of things. What we really need to worry about is just your average, everyday underage menaces who know more about the supernatural than they should and, therefore, will use their supernatural talents to up their Halloween game.”

“So like mischief night times ten.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Sounds like you could use some backup. There are definitely more of them than there are of you.”

“Hence why I’m asking. But since you are my boyfriend, not my employee, you absolutely do not have to.”

Ryan nods to acknowledge that he appreciates the distinction, before glancing back at her. “Do we have to dress up?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Do you want to dress up?”

“Pretty much always.”

He laughs before nodding. “If we dress up, can I pick the costumes?”

There’s a small eyebrow raise in challenge, and Caroline squints at him. He knows Caroline’s need to control everything that’s happening around her—especially for aesthetics—is well documented. But she is the one asking him to do the not fun thing on Halloween, so she takes a deep breath, puts her need to plan aside, and nods.

“Yes. You can pick the costumes.” He smiles, before leaning in to kiss her, and when he pulls back she frowns. “I’m going to regret that, aren’t I?”

“Not too much.” He smirks. “But maybe a little.”

She laughs before giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

“Anytime. Who knows? It might even be fun.”

Caroline smiles instead of contradicting him. If she knows her students, it’s going to be anything but fun.

* * * * *

Ryan’s choices were not actually bad. A little tongue-in-cheek, but it’s one of his first Halloweens as a vampire. She can’t really say she’s surprised when he hangs up some generic, campy vampire costumes in their closet. But it’s the fun tongue-in-cheek she likes, so it doesn’t bother her too much.

Dorian and Emma greet them in the headmaster’s office, dressed in their matching Wesley and Buttercup costumes as they go over the game plan. “So far, most of the kids are out,” Dorian begins. “A bunch of the teens went to the party at Mystic Falls High. When they’re done there, they’ll venture out to the Old Mill where we’ll pretend they aren’t drinking like most of the adults in this town.”

“Standard operating procedure,” Caroline nods. “Who’s the narc this year now that Milton’s gone?”

“MG wasn’t that much of a narc,” Emma sighs. “But it’s Tara. She’ll be the one to freak out if things go too far.”

“Great. So two of us to man the door and two of us to do inventory?”

Ryan frowns. “Inventory?”

“Of the magical items that we have in our possession.” Emma nods. “It wouldn’t be the first time that the students snuck one out to give their evening some extra pizzazz.”

“So we make sure that all of them are accounted for and if one is missing, it’s hopefully not one of the ones that are too dangerous.”

“Sounds pretty straightforward.” Ryan nods, and Emma smiles.

“Great. Because we hoped that you two would cover that.” She reaches over to place the clipboards in her hands, and Caroline frowns.

“Really?”

“The parents are judgy,” Emma admits. “They’ll probably do better with people they know, and if there’s something wrong with the students, you’ll be faster to handle it.”

“So better if we’re not zip-zip zooming in front of the locals, okay, I get it.” Caroline sighs, before nodding. “We’ve got it.”

“Great. Have fun!”

As they turn to leave the room, clipboards in hand, Ryan glances at her with a frown. “So discipline and inventory.”

Caroline nods in return. “Yep. Fun, right?”

* * * * *

Once they get into the storage room, they’re able to make quick work of most of it. Mostly because it’s easy to check off a box when a magical item is present and accounted for. They make it about halfway through the room before Ryan makes a concerned noise from somewhere on the other side of a bookshelf.

She’s somewhat proud of learning to decipher Ryan when she picks that up as a concerned “hmm” rather than just one of his normal everyday “hmms.”

“Everything okay?”

“The box is here, but it seems like someone tampered with the lock.”

“What?” That definitely warrants more than a concerned “hmm.”

She makes her way around the set of shelves towards where he’s standing. Sitting in front of him is an old wooden curse box. The exterior is pretty beat up, so it’s hard to say for sure whether or not the tampering is recent, but she can see the definite scratches on the edges of the lock. As though to test it, she moves to flip the lid up and her shoulders slump when it goes easily, and the space inside is empty.

“Oh, no. What was in here?”

“It’s the—”

“Headmaster Forbes!” An anxious voice explodes into the room as Tara, one of the tinier, newer werewolves to join the pack, bursts in the door, out of breath and legs shaking. “You have to come quick.”

Caroline turns and frowns even more. “What’s wrong?”

“Gio and Bella took the Orb of Westerion to the high school for the Halloween party.”

She closes her eyes. “Let me guess. The Orb of Westerion—”

“Is the thing that’s supposed to be in that box?” Ryan finishes. “Yep. We gotta go?”

Caroline nods. “We gotta go.”

* * * * *

They arrive at the high school to find it mostly intact, which is a relief. Ryan slides to a stop next to her, before frowning at the building in front of them.

“If this thing goes off, what does it do?”

“Most of the time? It’s just a fun little light show. But if Gio channels too much of his magic into it, things could go from light show to fire hazard pretty quickly.” Caroline takes a deep breath, before looking over at Tara. “Do you know what they’re planning?”

“I think they were just trying to up the decorations. But Gio goes too far sometimes, and we weren’t supposed to take the magical artifacts out of the school.”

“You are absolutely right, Tara. We just need to find them first.” Caroline glances over to Ryan. “Tara knows what they look like. You take her with you, and I’ll comb the opposite side of the gym?” He nods, and the three of them part ways, heading into the crowded auditorium in search of their wayward students.

Some of the Salvatore students are quick to give her a wave. Some seem curious about what she’s doing here, while the other seem to know something’s about to go down. At first, it appears they’re going to come up empty, when the whisper of Ryan’s voice in her ear floats through the noise of the crowd.

“Care? We’ve got something under the bleachers.”

Of course. How cliché. Slipping back along the outskirts of the gym, she winds her way around the corner as she picks up two teenage voices. Gio, bragging. Bella, flirting. Teenagers are always so predictable. Unfortunately, she can’t really say she wasn’t the same way back when. Or she would have been, if she attended a supernatural school that still allowed her to be a teenager, rather than fending off murder and terror constantly.

In some ways, it warms her heart that this gets to be their experience, as much as it annoys her.

She zips in the back and is quick to pull the ball out of Gio’s hands before he can cast. “Give me that before anything happens.”

Gio looks up at her, eyes wide with surprise. “Headmaster Forbes!”

“And what exactly made you think that breaking the rules and stealing something out of the artifacts room is the thing to do?”

“How did you even know we had it?” His face then immediately turns into a scowl. “Did someone narc?”

Caroline rolls her eyes, because Ryan and Tara were fortunately smart enough to stay out of view and let her handle it. “We do inventory, Gio. Every Halloween. And since none of you were at the Old Mill yet, we figured it had to be at the school.”

Gio’s scowl deepens, and she can tell that he’s not sure if he believes her, but he doesn’t have a counter-argument either. So instead, he huffs and goes to head out from under the bleachers and heading back into the party. Once she’s sure they are out of view, she tucks the globe away and heads back to join Ryan on the other side of the auditorium.

“Where’s Tara?”

“I told her to go back to her friends while you were dealing with Gio.” Ryan leans back against the wall. “She did the right thing by narc-ing, but people don’t have to know it.”

“I agree,” she nods, before shifting to lean back next to him.

“So what now? We’ve handled the discipline part of the evening.”

“Well, we are going to take this globe back to the magical artifacts room with a note for Dorian to fix that curse box. But once that’s done …” She takes a breath as she considers. “Finish inventory, then grab a bag of candy and watch Hocus Pocus in my office?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Interview with a Vampire?” he gestures down to his kitschy costume. “It is on theme.”

She laughs, before taking his hand and leading the way out the gym door. “Maybe you can convince me on the way back to school.”

He grins. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The intruder’s hand lingers ever so slightly over the glass display case featuring one of Lex’s favored artifacts. It’s not an artifact she’s cataloged yet, so she’s not entirely sure why it catches the other woman’s eye, but she would like to find out. That’s not the only thing that’s interesting about the woman, however.

An intruder in the Luthor Mansion is always intriguing, given the levels of security they have to get through to get inside. There’s a certain amount of gumption that comes with trying to get past the roaming personal security guards and the cameras. That’s besides the extras that Lex has worked into the mix over the years. That this woman has made it this far, and more to the point, done it in a bright red outfit, is impressive. And more to the point, likely speaks to how formidable she truly is.

“And why’s that?” she finally asks, though she doesn’t turn to face where Tess is lingering over her shoulder. The assailant is almost soft spoken, a kind of assured confidence that appears to Tess more than she would care to admit.

“Because I’m not sure what it does. And while it could be a rather efficient way of dealing with an intruder, the cleanup would probably be a pain.”

The assailant turns to face her, raising an eyebrow. “Tess Mercer.”

Tess raises an eyebrow. “You have me at a disadvantage. You know me, but I don’t know you.”

“Elektra Natchios. I have a proposition for you.”

“Do you?” Tess crosses her arms in front of her chest and takes a step closer. “And you broke into my house in the middle of the night to offer it to me?”

A ghost of a smirk crosses Elektra’s face and she shrugs. “Got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Fair enough.” Tess pauses before glancing back at the wet bar nearby. “Shall we have a drink, then?”

Elektra nods before turning to follow her. “Yes. Let’s.”

* * * * *

After grabbing one decanter and two glasses, Tess escorts Elektra up to her office, much to the chagrin of her security team. They don’t think it’s safe to leave her alone with the strange assassin, but Tess will bet that Elektra isn’t here to hurt her.

But she’s always been okay with an element of risk.

She settles into her desk chair, eyeing the other woman carefully before taking a sip of her drink. “So. What is this proposition of yours?”

Elektra sits straight-backed in her chair, balancing the untouched glass in her hand. Tess lets the silence speak for herself, taking the other in. Now that she’s had time to think about it, she has heard of Elektra Natchios before. Some were fearful, some say she’s a hero—Tess isn’t sure which is true. But that’s the kind of woman Tess likes.

In the world they live in, it isn’t enough to do good. You also need to be powerful. The right people fearing you isn’t a bad thing.

Eventually Elektra straightens, looking her dead in the eye. “We need to talk about Lex Luthor.”

“Do we?” Tess raises an eyebrow curiously. “I didn’t think the two of you ran in the same circles.”

“We didn’t.” Elektra smirks. “With the way he collected artifacts, I assume he wanted to, but he’s not … quite on my level.”

Tess tries to smother the smile that fights to cross her face. That Lex’s ego wouldn’t have been enough, but this formidable woman is seeking her out. She can’t help the tiny curl of pride that bubbles up in her chest. “But I am?”

“You are, only by what you’re now holding on to. I know Luthor was obsessed with things beyond this world as the result of the meteor storms. Some of his artifacts—like the one I was looking at downstairs—are something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

Elektra studies her curiously again. “Do you believe in magic?”

“Only if your name is Zatanna Zatara.”

The assassin rolls her eyes. “There’s more to it than that. But the relic in your collection belongs to a group called the Hand. And you don’t want to be on their radar.”

“Are you here to deliver that message for them?”

“No.”

She speaks so sharply that Tess can sense the history there, even if she doesn’t understand it. But it’s also enough to make Tess see Elektra means business.

“Then you’re just here to get to my rock before they do.” Tess takes another sip of her drink. “Is this the part where you tell me we can either do this the easy way or the hard way?”

“If I have to,” Elektra tips her head to the side. “Though frankly, for me, either way is the easy way.”

In a man, Tess would probably find that confidence overbearing. In a woman, however, it’s incredibly attractive, and Tess can’t help the spark of interest that lights her features. “I’m sure it would. Though I’d like to think I’d at least be worth a little effort.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try. But I hope it won’t come to that.”

“Then perhaps we can have something of an exchange.” Tess places her glass down and leans in closer. “I want to know more about the Hand. On the off chance if I find any artifacts, I want to know if there’s anything I should forward into better hands. Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll let you take what you came for.”

Elektra hesitates, finally lifting the drink to her lips and taking a long sip as she thinks. “Are you sure? Because once your eyes are opened to all of what they are, you can never go back.”

“You clearly haven’t spent much time in Smallville, because we have our own weirdness to deal with. I think I need to know if I’m dealing with someone who’s meteor-affected, or something bigger. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be caught unawares. Being prepared is better than being ignorant.”

Elektra pauses, then nods. “Fair enough.” She finishes her glass, then places it on the desk in front of her. “We’re going to need more bourbon.”

* * * * *

By the time light glows on the horizon, Tess knows far more than she ever wanted to know about the world on the other side of the veil, and has so many more questions to ask. She realizes, however, that she’s taken up enough of Elektra’s time, and it’s time for her to pay out her end of the bargain. She walks Elektra back down to the display room and allows her to take what she came for.

“Thank you,” Elektra nods as she leaves. “For being reasonable about this. I have a feeling your predecessor wouldn’t have been.”

Tess nods as she walks her out, sliding her hands in her pockets. “I’m not sure you’re wrong. But I believe you enough to understand why that needs to be far from here.” She pauses, before tipping her head to the side curiously. “Any chance you might come back here, or to Metropolis soon?”

“I don’t know,” Elektra admits. “Why do you ask?”

Tess shrugs. “It might be nice to see each other again, under less stressful circumstances.” She pulls a hand out of her pocket and passes Elektra her card. “No pressure. But if you are in town, call me. I’ll buy you a drink.”

Elektra raises an eyebrow. “You actually want to spend more time with me?”

“Consider it me trying to make friends in the right places.”

A glimmer of a smile cracks her stony assassin façade, before she nods and takes the card. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good.” Tess takes a step back towards her door with a smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Natchios. Hopefully, we’ll see each other again under much more pleasant circumstances.”

“Hopefully, we will.”

She reaches back to open the door, and by the time she turns around again, Elektra is gone. Tess still smiles as she turns to make her way back into the mansion to throw herself into bed. She can’t help but feel that this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Neither Freya nor Kol attends the conclave.

Perhaps they should have, and things would have been different if they did. But unfortunately, when the Mikaelsons interfered at Sodden, they drew Nilfgaard’s attention. Now the White Flame seeks to burn down the demesne of the Vampire King, and they are doing their level best to keep that from happening. Neither of the family sorcerers can afford to leave their siblings’ side at the Abattoir, much as they both would love a party. They send their support with the conclave uniting against the White Flame, for whatever weight their opinion is worth. If the sorcerers wish to ally themselves with the vampires, then allies they shall have.

What comes next is a series of missives, mostly from Yennefer:

Conclave successful, Stregobor exposed.

Aretuza, attacked.

Aretuza, fallen. Princess Cirilla, missing. Vilgefortz, a traitor. (“I could have told you that one, the pompous prick,” says Kol.)

After that comes a flurry of messages and status updates and while Freya acknowledges and responds to everyone, she still doesn’t come. There’s too much work to do. Even with two mages the wards are barely holding, and the people that rely on her family need her. But it’s when the final missive arrives from Triss that Freya realizes she can’t wait anymore.

Tissaia de Vries, dead.

“Take Rebekah with you,” Klaus commands and Freya immediately protests, but he raises a hand before she can try. “You shouldn’t go alone. These are dangerous times for any of us to be traveling that way, and for all you know, this may be a trap.”

She can’t disagree with his logic, as much as she may want to. While she and Tissaia were never close, she was her teacher, and Tissaia and Yennefer were. Kol cannot come because they need at least one mage at the Abattoir, but her sister can travel with her, just in case.

“I understand. Thank you.”

“Please send word whenever you can.” Klaus stands from the throne and takes a few steps closer to place his hands on her shoulders. “And please, sister. Be safe.”

“Always,” she smiles, reaching up to give his hands a squeeze. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

* * * * *

Portalling to Aretuza in its current state is tricky, but she’s able to get them close enough that she and Rebekah don’t have far to go once they land. It’s been barely hours since she’s received Triss’ message, and she can tell that her fellow schoolmates are still reeling. Her eyes catch Triss’ as they step inside, and she immediately strides across the courtyard to greet her.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” the redhead says softly, as she wraps her arms around her.

“If I had known things were so dire, I would have been here sooner.” Freya pulls back to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Was she ill? Wounds from the battle?”

Triss’ eyes soften as she hesitates. Likely searching for delicate words for not so delicate a subject. “The latter, I suppose. Ones that are much harder to heal. Since Sodden, she and Vilgefortz were…more than aligned.”

The pieces come together much quicker than she would like. Tissaia and Vilgefortz were together. Still, she’s confused. Tissaia de Vries? Dead over a broken heart? No, there has to be more to the story. So she waits, patiently, for Triss to explain the rest.

“She called down Alzur’s Thunder during the battle for Aretuza. I think she figured that would be the end of her. That she would spend her reserves and sacrifice herself to save the rest of us, but …”

It didn’t work. Even with the power of Alzur’s Thunder coursing out of her, Tissaia still walked away whole. Freya can piece together the rest, and she shakes her head as she cuts to the point.

“Where is Yennefer?”

Triss nods, before turning and pointing to the rooms ahead. Freya turns to follow, but Rebekah remains behind with Triss, likely talking about defenses or other concerns. That’s fine—what Freya knows is that she needs to get back to her friend.

Freya steps into the room where Yennefer is leaning over the desk. Yennefer’s always had a good game face, but Freya’s known her long enough that she can see somewhat behind the cracks, and this is worse than Sodden. At least in Sodden, they had an end goal. Make it to the other side of the battle. Do whatever it takes.

Here, the end goal is so nebulous. It always is for war.

“Yen,” she says softly, knocking lightly on the doorframe before she enters. When Yennefer looks up, she can see the thin threads barely holding her together. Still, there’s relief in her expression as she makes her way across the room to Freya and throwing her arms around her tightly. She knows that it’s a rare instance when Yennefer can allow herself to fall apart at the seams. It’s hard when you don’t have a support system there to catch you. When your support system leaves you, even if you understand the reasons.

Freya knows what Yennefer has lost, and she doesn’t fight her, simply stands as sturdy as a tree and hopes that it’s strong enough to allow Yennefer what she needs. Yennefer clings to her like a lifeline, and Freya smooths a hand over the back of her head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Yennefer pulls back to look at her. “Everything is falling apart.”

“It’s alright. I’m here now. You don’t have to do this all on your own.” Not that she was alone before, but she can imagine that losing Tissaia’s support is more than Triss, Sabrina and Margartia can account for. “You have allies, Yennefer. And together, we will create another plan.”

Yennefer nods, because yes. That does account for the practical. But Freya knows that doesn’t account for the emotional. Her eyes then drop to her hands. “Is this what it feels like to lose your mother?”

Freya doesn’t really know how to answer that question. When Esther died, all that Freya felt was relief. But she’s seen other people lose their mothers be much more affected.

“I suppose, when you love them.” She isn’t sure if the answer is enough, but it’s the answer Freya has.

“How long can you stay?”

“I don’t know. Things are no better with my family. Nilfgaard is still looking to overtake us. But I can stay for a little while.”

Yennefer nods. “Then, while you’re here, we can plan. I think it’s about time what’s left of the mages of this land came together.”

“Good,” Freya smiles at the start of a plan. “Then let’s get started.”

Edited 2023-10-11 12:21 (UTC)

“It’s just a simple smash and grab, they said. We’ll be in and out, they said.”

Sara skids to a stop at the end of the alleyway, ducking out of view as the guards rush past her. She’s been trying to draw them away from the rest of the Legends for the past hour, but she doesn’t seem to get very far in that respect. The comms aren’t working, so she has no idea where anyone is.

Typical.

She tenses when she hears footsteps heading her way, and soon Jax skids to a stop, turning to crouch behind her. There’s a small sigh of relief—that’s one crew member accounted for. More importantly, its the crew member with the item they were smashing and grabbing.

“We’ve got it?”

“We?” Jax raises an eyebrow. “This is a ‘we’ situation now?”

“We are a team. We all win and we all lose.” Sara can feel him rolling her eyes behind her, but she’s choosing to be optimistic about the situation. If Jax has what they came for, then the next step is just to make it back to the Waverider without attracting any extra attention. “So if you’ve got it, we’ve got it.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got it.” He reaches his hand down into his pockets, fingers wiggling around until Sara catches the “oh shit” look crossing his face.

“Don’t tell me…”

“It was right there, I swear.”

“Oh, come on, you lost it?” She catches the look Jax flashes before sighing. “Well, we lost it.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you remember where you last had it?”

“I was pretty sure I had it with me the whole way.” He shifts to lean back against the wall, trying to focus. “Z passed it to me. I put it in my pocket. I took off. Nate and Mick were covering me. After I made it out of the building, I checked my pocket. It was still there. And then I just sprinted until I saw you.”

“Okay, so it’s somewhere between here and the building. We just need to retrace your steps and head back.” Sara pushes to her feet, making her way closer to the mouth of the alley. From what she could tell, the space from here back to Kord Laboratories is pretty clear. Probably because the guards don’t expect you to return to the scene of the crime. “Let’s move as fast as we can. Keep our eyes peeled, and hopefully, we don’t have to look long and can make it back to the ship in one piece.”

“Deal.” Jax nods, before falling into step behind her. “You take the north side of the street, I’ll take the south?”

“Yes, but stay in my line of sight!”

He throws up a thumbs up over his shoulder as he darts across the street and Sara sighs, before turning her attention to the task at hand.

* * * * *

They take a half hour of combing through the streets block by block before Sara hears a triumphant. “Ha!” from somewhere nearby. Her head snaps toward Jax, and she catches him in time to see him hold up a vial with some kind of silvery liquid in it.

“Got it,” he grins as he moves to cross the street to her.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Now let’s get out of here.”

Jax doesn’t have to tell her twice. She breaks into a run, heading back toward the Waverider. They make it about half-way when a group of guards comes around the corner and Sara brings them both to a stop.

“Do we have an alternate escape option?”

“I don’t know.”

Eyes quickly scan the nearby alleys to see if there’s another out, but just as they round the corner, another voice hisses from nearby.

“Sara.”

Her head snaps to the side and her eyes widen when she sees Nate poking his head out of a hole that leads right to the Waverider. Sara takes Jax’s arm and pulls him towards the entrance and soon they’re both tumbling through the hole the time courier cut in the world. Sara finally feels herself relax as it closes behind her.

“Gideon, let’s get out of here!”

“Yes, Captain.”

As the Waverider comes to life, Zari looks at the two of them over Nate’s shoulder. “What took you two so long?”

“Jax—” Jax clears his through, and she redirects. “We lost the vial, so we had to go back and find it, before coming back.”

Both Zari and Nate blink at her in confusion. “What vial?”

“The vial.” Sara squints back at them. “The vial that we were sent out there to find?”

“We weren’t going for a vial. We were going for that.” Zari turns and points to something that looks like some kind of computer thing that Sara can’t identify. “What vial did you take?”

Jax squints back at her before pulling the vial out of his pocket. “The vial that you handed me and said to hold on to?”

Zari squints at it again before shaking her head. “I didn’t hand you a vial. I wasn’t even near you.”

Jax and Sara straighten suddenly. “If you didn’t hand it to me, who did?”

“That would be me.” They turn to see another Zari standing in the bridge of the Waverider. She then immediately transitions into another, less known face with a smile. “Hi there. Name’s Charlie. I think we could help each other out.”

Sara sighs as her head tips into her hands. “And here I thought this job was going to be easy. What do you want help with, exactly?”

Charlie’s smile widened even further. “A loom. A pretty famous one at that.” Her eyes dance over each of them. “Have you lot ever heard of the Fates?”

Nate’s eyes go wide as he looks at Sara. He doesn’t have to say anything. She already knows from his expression that this is going to be a really long night.

Date night is not going how Sam hoped.

He’s not unfamiliar with the phenomenon. When you spend most of your life spending all of your time with only one person, you know that kind of closeness is only sustainable for so long. He and Dean have their annual fight, after all. They fight, they walk away, trauma happens and they come back. It’s an effective cycle, though probably not as healthy a reset as the prank wars they used to have when they were kids. With Allison, he thought that maybe they just needed to spend time not trapped underground with the rest of his family.

He seems to be wrong.

It’s not as though they haven’t been having an okay time, but things are still stiff. It’s not the relaxed, usual vibe of what Sam would consider a date. As they come out of the (not good) movie, Sam’s about to say that maybe they should just take dinner back and call it a night. He doesn’t want to be out there with her if they’re not having fun—if she’s not having fun. But before he can open his mouth, the phone rings.

“Hey, Elena.”

“Hey, Sam. I hate to do this because I know you’re on a date…”

It feels like a lifeline being thrown in his direction, and Sam grasps at it without thinking. “No, it’s okay. What do you need?”

“We found some reports of a vampire nest not far from here. Don’t know how many there are, but they’ve killed at least two people. Do you think you and Allison are okay to go check it out?”

Sam glances over at Allison and she raises an eyebrow. “Elena has a job for us. You good?”

“Yeah.” Sam tries not to notice how anxious she seems to be to shift it from personal time to work time, or how relieved she is that the change is happening. “Tell her to send the address.”

Sam nods and turns back to the phone. “Yeah, we’ll take it. Send us the address and we’ll get to work.”

“Are you sure? Because I can find someone else.”

“No, Elena, it’s okay. Just send us the info and we’ll get on it.”

Elena sounds hesitant but eventually concedes. Sam hears the ping of a text arriving on his phone, before glancing back at Allison. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Maybe things will go better than their actual date.

* * * * *

Fortunately for them, tracking down the nest doesn’t take much time. At one point, Allison turns to him to ask if all vampires are this sloppy, and he doesn’t know if he has an answer to that. It really depends on the type of vampire, but these seem to be especially careless. They track them down, holed up in an abandoned barn, and after waiting to make sure they had all the vamps, they went forth with relieving all of them of their heads. Sam tries to ignore the vigor with which Allison went to work, but once they are finished and torching the bodies, he has to ask.

“Okay, are we okay? Because things have been—”

“Weird, I know. It’s not you.” Allison hesitates. “It’s very much a me problem.”

“And that problem is?”

“I’m worried that I’m becoming too focused on what is happening here, and not keeping my eye on the bigger picture. The Gauntlet is important. I will not deny that, but I have other responsibilities too. Plus, my dad and I are still trying to rebuild our network in the wake of the damage Monroe did, and I think I might need to check on that for a while.”

“Okay,” Sam nods. “I mean, I figured that would come at some point. All you had to do was say so.”

“I know that. And I know you knew that. But I don’t actually want to not be here spending time with you.” She takes a deep breath. “Also, your brother is driving me up a wall.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, he’s a frustrating person. Honestly, I don’t know how Elena puts up with him.”

“Agreed.” Allison sighs, and he sees her shoulders slump slightly. “I’m sorry. I haven’t meant to be a no-fun girlfriend.”

“You weren’t. I could just tell something was bothering you, and I wasn’t sure if it was me. But if you need to go, Allison, it’s okay. I’ve got things to handle here too, so if we take a little time, I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Also, phones exist.”

“That’s true,” Allison nods. “And so does FaceTime.”

“Exactly.” Sam snakes an arm around her to pull her closer. “So we’re okay?”

“Yeah. But I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Sam nods. “But if you lead, I can absolutely use you as an excuse to escape Dean whenever I want.”

She laughs. “You know what? I’m okay with being used for that reason.”

“Good. So why don’t we try to salvage date night by not going home right away, and figure out the rest in the morning?”

Allison smiles as she leans in to kiss him. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

* * * * *

They return to the bunker with a better energy to them, carrying over their conversation from the car as they make their way into the main area.

“Are you saying you didn’t like it?”

“I’m not saying I didn’t like it. I’m just saying…” His voice trails off as Dean crosses into view, closing his mouth and giving his brother a nod. “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey.” He glances between the two of them. “You two seem to have a better…energy.” Dean’s tactful way of saying that someone got laid, but Sam tactfully ignores it.

“Yeah, so Allison is going to be heading out in a couple of days. She’s got some hunter stuff she needs to take care of.”

“Aw. Leaving us already?” Dean turns to her with a smirk. “You will be missed.”

“I’m sure,” Allison sighs, before looking up at Sam. “I’m going to go pack.”

Dean moves to stand next to his brother, waiting until Allison disappears down the hall to the bedrooms, before turning back to look at Sam. “So. You guys get a little freaky on your vampire hunt?”

Sam glances back to his brother with a squint, before shaking his head and walking away. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

His head ducks as Dean calls after him. “It’s called sex positivity, Sammy. You should try it sometime.”

Sam shakes his head before continuing to walk down the hall. He might take Allison up on that avoidance offer sooner rather than later.

Kady struts into the tavern that Pete is holding his meetup in, and her eyes narrow when she sees an unfamiliar face at the table. It’s not that she objects to new people. But when she’s coming into a job full of people she knows and now there’s a stranger, she thinks she’s right to get her hackles up. “Who the hell is this?”

“Diego. He’s the new muscle,” Pete replies without a second thought, the rogue settling at the head of the table like he owns the place. “Sit.”

“What was wrong with the old muscle? What happened to Benny?”

“Benny had a conflict of interest, so we had to get new muscle. Sit, Kady.”

Kady grits her teeth but Lipson, the on-hand cleric, gives her a pleading look, so she sighs and goes to sit. The only empty seat is next to Diego, of course. She tries not to flinch at the way his eyes are boring into her shoulders.

“Right, so, now that we’re all here. The plan.” Pete lays out the blueprints of the large Xhorhasian manor in front of them. “I will get us in the door and deal with any mundane traps. Diego will keep an eye out for any unwanted interruptions. Kady will keep an eye out for magical traps and disable them, and Lipson will patch us up if needed. What we’re looking for is an artifact kept in a safe on the second floor. We get in, we get out, no muss, no fuss.”

Kady nods as she listens, but her eyes are on Diego the entire time. There’s something off about him and she can’t put her finger on what. Regardless, she waits until the rest of the group has dispersed before turning her attention to him.

“So what’s your game?”

“My game?” Diego raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just join up with a random crew to sneak into Xhorhas and steal something for what? Just the money?”

Diego raises an eyebrow. “Around these parts, does it ever need to be more than just the money?”

…He kind of has her there. “There are easier ways to get money than sneaking into Xhorhas. Why this job?”

“Personally, Kady, I think that’s my business. Not yours.”

He gets up and leaves her at the table, and as he walks away, she turns to follow him, eyes narrowing as Lipson returns to their table with drinks. “What it is?”

“There’s something about that guy I don’t like.”

“There’s something about every guy you don’t like. And you hated Benny.”

“Yeah, but at least it was a known hatred,” Kady takes a sip of her ale. “This one is currently unknown and that bothers me.” She turns back to her friend and nods. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

Lipson nods with a smile. “I got your back, always.” They clink their tankards together and Kady keeps her fingers crossed this job goes smoothly.

* * * * *

They get into Xhorhas without a hitch and getting into the house is even easier. While there are some magical traps here and there, the house itself is massive, and there seem to be very few deterrents against intruders. Diego breaks off early on to sweep the perimeter while the rest of them make their way to the safe and break in. Kady dispels the magical security features, Pete hits the mundane ones, and it’s smooth sailing.

Something about this is too easy, but Kady will not question an easy payday.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Pete nods. “I’ll make sure Lipson’s ready. You find Diego.”

Kady nods and starts wandering through the house, looking for signs of their wayward barbarian. She heads down one staircase, doing her best to be stealthy before picking up the sound of his voice around a corner.

“Come with me, hurry.”

She follows the sound of the voice until she catches sight of him in the kitchen, talking—more like pleading—with someone else. She ducks back around the corner so she could watch but hopefully not draw his attention. The woman he’s talking to almost seems to be made of metal? She doesn’t look like any kind of person who Kady has seen before, but Xhorhas is a weird place.

“Diego, I can’t go with you.”

“Yes, you can. Mom, you can’t really want to stay here with him.”

Mom? Her face softens at the implications of that sentence, because she can’t say it’s one she hasn’t uttered before at her own mother. She suddenly feels guilty for listening in on this and pulls out of the doorway a little more so she was no longer watching, even if it meant she could still hear it.

“Your father isn’t as bad as you think, Diego.”

“He is exactly as bad as I think. Don’t you want to go anywhere? He never even lets you leave the house.” He takes a deep breath. “Look, Allison has a house in Rexxentrum. She has a daughter now you could help her take care of. You can have a better life.”

“Diego. I love you, and I love your sister. I would love to meet her daughter.” The voice is soft and pleading, but firm. “But your father and I have been together for a very long time. I will not abandon him now.”

Kady’s head snaps to the side as she hears footsteps coming her way, and she reacts without thinking, fishing a piece of fleece out of her pocket. She hums under her breath, tearing and scattering the fleece over the doorway as she casts Major Image to hide the mother and son from view. By the time the spell settles, she turns to find Pete coming her way.

“Did you find him yet?”

“No, still looking.”

“Alright. Use Sending to get ahold of him and meet me out front so Lipson can do Word of Recall.”

“Yeah, got it.”

She waits until Pete has disappeared before tapping gently against the doorframe so that the spell shatters. When the illusion fades, Diego meets her eyes through the doorway and she swallows. “You’ve got maybe five minutes. We gotta go.”

He nods, and she turns to leave, heading out the door towards the rendezvous point.

* * * * *

Later at the tavern, when they’re having their celebratory drinks, Diego crosses over to Kady’s table, where she’s drinking alone. Lipson abandoned her for a flirty tiefling at the bar, and Pete’s already delivered their cut and headed out. As he sits across from her, he passes one tankard in his hand over and nods.

“Thank you for what you did at the house.”

She waves a hand, but she takes the drink. “I know what it’s like to deal with mothers who don’t know what’s good for them.”

“It’s not that.” He pauses. “I just think…she doesn’t realize that she has options, even when she does.”

Kady nods, taking a sip. “Can I ask … what is she?”

“Dad called her an Aeormaton?” Diego shrugs. “I don’t really care, though. To me, she was always Mom.”

“Fair enough.”

“Really, though. Thank you for watching my back. I know that I probably make a really shitty criminal.”

She laughs before shaking her head. “You’re not too bad. I just think that you might do better with a different class of criminal. Pete isn’t really your speed.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. So if you are fully committed to a life of crime, I have a guy I could introduce you to. Retired adventurer who runs a tavern out of Shady Creek Run.”

He seems skeptical at first. “I thought Shady Creek Run was called ‘shady’ for a reason.”

“Oh, it is. But Stefan is good people, and so are the people who drink in his bar. If you’re looking for better work, that’s probably where you should be.” Diego seems to mull that over for a bit, and Kady makes it a little easier. “I’m heading back there tomorrow. You could come with.”

“I’ll think about it,” he nods, before offering her a smile. “But right now, I think we’re going to need some food to go with this booze.”

She smiles. “I could go for that.”

After that, they’ll just see where the night takes them. Kady’s not sure where, but she’s pretty sure wherever it goes, it’ll certainly be interesting.

Edited 2023-10-13 18:15 (UTC)

Neal notices something off almost the second he walks in the door.

This is supposed to be a standard law enforcement appreciation gala that Neal isn’t actually invited to, but Diana agreed to take him as her plus one, being currently single and wanting a distraction. Neal is just delighted to have an excuse to dress up and have a good time, but something is … off. He’s trying to put together the clues as Anna approaches him at the bar, which provides a brief distraction.

“I thought this was supposed to be a cop party. CI’s not invited,” she teases. He tosses her a smirk in return.

“Diana needed a plus one. You look lovely, though.”

Her head ducks at the compliment and she nods. “Thank you. You don’t clean up so bad yourself.”

He nods, before stepping to one side so that she can order her drink. “Have you noticed anything weird about tonight?”

Anna raises an eyebrow before she turns and looks at the rest of the room. “Other than that, a bunch of cops are here galavanting instead of doing their jobs? Can’t really say.”

“Hmm.” His eyes continue to scan the room. “You know, Detective, there is such a thing as a work-life balance.”

“Caffrey, prior to working with the FBI, I don’t think you’ve ever had an actual job, so what exactly do you know about work-life balance?”

“I think you’d be surprised the things that I’ve learned while working for the FBI.” His eyes dart to the servers, picking up on the uniforms for the evening—the standard white shirt, black pants combo that most cater waiters wear, at least until he scans down and sees the shoes.

Amateurs.

“Anna, what would you say if I told you I thought that either this gala or this building was being robbed?”

Anna turns to him in surprised, before raising an eyebrow. “I’d say that the thieves would either have to be very bold or very stupid to be knocking over a ballroom full of cops.”

“I would agree with that assessment, though with this group I would probably err more on the side of stupid. And probably didn’t look at the name of the gala they were trying to infiltrate when they made their plans.”

“Why would you say that?”

“The staff—look at their shoes.”

Anna turns to follow his line of vision until she sees what he sees. “Since when are combat boots in upscale cater waiter attire?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“What do you think they’re here for if not to rob the gala?”

Neal’s eyes scan upwards, trying to think what’s in the building above them. “Financial information, maybe? There’s a lot that runs through here on the business floors.”

“How can we know for sure?”

Neal pauses, before tipping his head to her curiously. “Probably not anything in the approved investigative rules for a police officer?”

Anna looks at him curiously. “If you steal the evidence, we’ll have to catch them in the act.”

“If I steal the evidence, we’ll have to set up someone else to catch them in the act. Good thing we’re in a room full of cops, right?”

In some ways, it’s a test, based on what kind of cop Anna is. In his opinion, there are three kinds: ones who don’t trust him and insist on doing things by the book; ones that will let him do what he needs to do, but want to make sure they get the arrest themselves; and the ones who will come along with him, because making sure they get the right person is better than having the arrest under their name. Anna strikes him as either the first or the last most days, but he wants to see if she’ll be his proverbial partner in crime.

But crime for good.

Also, there’s still that inherent trustworthiness with the fact that he’s a criminal, so in the end, she nods. “Fine. Let’s just stop them before this goes too far.”

He grins before putting down his drink and holding his hand out to her. “In that case, Detective, would you like to dance?”

This is going to be fun.

* * * * *

The best way to make a lift is to make sure that the other person is distracted while you do. And the best way to know who to lift from is to get a full survey of the room. With the ballroom they’re currently spending time in, the best vantage point allowing them to see what everyone is doing is the dance floor. As Neal pulls her close, she tips her head up to whisper in his ear.

“So what are we looking for, exactly?”

“Keep an eye on the combat boots. See if they’re working with anyone in the room or what they might pass off.” Neal tips his head to the side as he considers. “Serving staff can be invisible in the ballroom, but they might need someone in a higher position of power to either provide access to the upper floors. Or have someone posing as a guest that won’t raise suspicion.”

“Or be working with one of the guests to pull off the heist,” she points out.

“Or that.” Neal is glad that she’s the one to point out that there might be a dirty cop in the mix. He didn’t want to be the one to say it. He moves in time to the music leading across the floor and letting Anna cover his back over his shoulder as they moved through the room. They’re close enough that he can almost feel the way her heart is pounding against his chest. He tips his head forward to whisper in her ear.

“Relax. This is just work.”

“This doesn’t actually feel like work,” she chides back, but she relaxes some. “Okay. Let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

“Work is allowed to be fun,” he murmurs as he leads her into a bit of a spin. “So relax. Have some fun.”

A brief something flashes through her eyes as he pulls her closer again, but she shakes it off and returns her focus to the job at hand. “Got it. Have fun.”

They make it through a few songs before she taps him on the shoulder gently to get his attention. “Caffrey. Four o’clock.”

He does a small, elegant turn to get them both facing the same direction, and he sees what she means. One of the combat boot servers stops by one patron, a man in an expensive-looking suit who’s entertaining a collection of guests at his table. Neal sees it as he passes off a napkin to one server under the tray in their hand and is just able to catch the thin piece of plastic slid between the napkin and the tray.

“He’s handing out key cards.”

“That’s the second in the last five minutes,” Anna confirms.

“Do we know who he is?”

She shakes her head. “Not someone I recognize. Is it important?”

“It might be, for knowing what we’re up against.” Neal is not an amateur. He likes to have as much information as he can on his side, but this little adventure is being played fast and loose. “Hang on.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, before draping a hand over her shoulder and angling it up as though he’s taking a selfie. He adjusts the screen and their position enough that he can catch their target in position without drawing the attention of the mark. Once he snaps the photo, he quickly texts it to Jones, asking him to run facial recognition on it.

“And while he’s doing that, we should try to get one of those key cards.”

“And how do you recommend we do that?”

“Delay and distract.” He looks up as another server makes his approach, and another keycard gets slipped to the server. As the server slips the keycard into his pocket, he nods. “Get a glass of wine.”

He sets Anna up to intercept, glass of wine in hand, and watches as she collides with the server in question, wine spilling down the front of his shirt. While she profusely apologizes, he slips by and lifts the keycard from his pocket. After ducking around the corner and takes a peek, Anna coming to join him once the problem was resolved.

“Anything?”

“Nothing specified on the key card,” he says before passing it to her to let her have a look as his phone dings. “But Jones got us an ID on the guy. Malcolm Jefferies.”

“Works in the legal department. My boss hears from him every time we have an arrest that isn’t perfectly squeaky clean.” Anna reaches over to look at the picture. “What is he after?”

“Not sure. Want to go find out?”

Anna raises an eyebrow. “You what? Want to wave this key card at a bunch of doors until we find the one it works for? If you don’t stop now —”

“Do you have anything better to do with your time right now?” Neal glances over her shoulder. “Think fast, too, because I’m pretty sure Jones also tipped off Diana.”

Anna considers for a moment before huffing as she turns to find the entrance to the ballroom. “C’mon. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

Neal grins as he turns to follow her, heading out in to the hotel at large. This gala is really turning out to be far more fun than he thought it would be.

* * * * *

It takes a little finagling, some creative distractions, and timing of Diana’s emergence on the scene just right; but they stop the theft of whatever IP is sitting on the building’s servers before it even starts. Neal even gets to watch happily as another member of law enforcement slaps the cuffs on Jefferies to walk him out. He can tell by the look on Diana’s face that she’s not pleased about not being allowed to be in on the fun, but that’s a problem for future Neal.

Right now, he turns to Anna and flashes her a grin. “Look at that. You got to go to a frivolous event and solved crime. And it was fun, right?”

“This is not what work-life balance means,” Anna says, rolling her eyes as she turns to face him more. “But I will admit that … it was … fun.”

Neal’s grin widens. “See? You should have me on cases more often.” He’s about to say something else, but he catches Diana curling a finger in his direction. “But unfortunately, it looks like Cinderella’s about to turn back into a pumpkin. It was nice seeing you again, Detective.”

“Wait.” She reaches out and catches his arm, before tentatively pushing up on her toes slightly to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for the dance, Caffrey.”

He turns to let her go as she walks back towards some of the other cops, and a smile stretches across his face. Then he turns to head back to Diana so she can escort him back home. Tonight has certainly come out better than he expected.

A couple of decades later, Bo is back in Kansas again.

Currently, she’s running through some cornfields, chasing a Corn Jenny who slipped out of the jurisdiction of both the Ash and the Morrigan. Since Bo is unaligned on every front, she is the best person to bring them back. Which naturally has her and Kenzi dodging razor sharp leaves that come dusting out between ears of corn only to disappear again. Bo just narrowly dodges another attempted stabbing before the corn rustles and the wayward Fae disappears.

“Damnit, Jenny!” she shouts into the field. “You’re only making this a bigger problem.”

“Fuck off, succubus!” The voice comes rippling through the cornfield, but she can’t pinpoint the point of origin. Kenzi comes up against her back, eyes wide as she scans through the lines of matching corn around them.

“Maybe we should switch from offense to defense.”

“Maybe.” Bo isn’t sure how to do that in the middle of a cornfield where Jenny can just blend in at a moment’s notice. She scans over the area and she can’t help this nagging feeling of having been here before in the back of her mind. “Have we been here before?”

“In Bumfuck Nowhere, Kansas? Absolutely not.”

“Right.” Bo shakes her head before turning and pointing. “There’s a barn in that direction. Let’s get out of the corn until we have a plan.”

“Good idea.”

As they burst out of the manicured edge of the cornfield, Bo collides with a solid human chest and stumbles back in surprise. She then blinks as she looks at two faces, both familiar yet not at the same time.

“Who the hell are you?” one of them demands.

“Hi. I’m Bo. This is Kenzi.” She squints at both of them. There’s something about them that’s so…something. Her eyes then glance to the barn behind them, and then back to them. “Sorry, have we met before?”

“Obviously not, Bobo, given that they wanted to know who we are and you just introduced us,” Kenzi chirps over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry. I’m just having the weirdest case of déjà vu.” She shakes her head, attempting to shake it off and focus on the matter at hand. “We’re private investigators. Our clients asked us to track someone down and they’re currently hiding in your cornfield. We don’t want to cause any trouble. We just want to get our bounty and go.”

The two boys look at each other and suddenly become very interested in their little project. “We can help you.”

“No,” Bo and Kenzi respond simultaneously, and Bo continues. “Just go back to the house. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the one with dark hair protests. “We can help.”

“And we know the land better than you do,” the blond continues, turning to head past Bo to the cornfield. “We can probably help you get it done faster.”

Bo catches the blond’s arm and shakes her head. “You don’t understand, it’s—”

What happens next happens quickly. Brunette teenager protests Bo putting hands on his brother. A flash of movement catches out of the corner of her eye, and she reacts before she really thinks it through. She shoves the blond teenager out of the way, putting herself right in front of Jenny’s blades as they stab out of the edge of the field of corn and right into her gut.

“Oh, that’s bad.” Bo can feel it as the blades withdraw and the corn field cackles in delight.

“Did the corn just laugh?”

“Oh, my god, you’re really bleeding.” Bo sways to the side and the brunette teen catches her easily, scooping an arm under one shoulder. “Jonathan, help me!”

Blond teen—Jonathan—catches the other side of her, pulling her toward the barn before she can protest. As they disappear under the eaves, she squints up at the ceiling with a frown. “Why do I know this barn?”

“Probably the blood loss, BoBo.” Kenzi appears in her field of vision, checking the wounds. “Shit this is bad. Let me call Dyson.” Over her shoulder, she shouts back to the boys. “If her eyes glow blue, get out of there!”

Bo, distantly, knows that Dyson is too far away, but she can’t feed on any of these kids either. The boys don’t seem to heed Kenzi’s warning either. Jonathan shifts her to take her weight from his brother. “Jordan, go get the first aid kit. Maybe we can slow the bleeding while we wait for an ambulance.”

Ambulance. That might help. She can snack on the paramedics while he’s waiting for a better meal to show up. Honestly, Jonathan is looking tastier by the minute, and she needs to get out of here. There’s a soft gust of wind off to one side of her as Jordan leaves—wind? That’s weird. But the thing that really gets her attention—thankfully before Jonathan becomes a snack too good to resist—is a stronger gust of wind coming from the direction of the cornfield.

“What’s going on?”

“Dad! They were tracking something in the cornfield and she got stabbed trying to protect me.”

It’s the voice that clicks everything into place for her. As she rolls her eyes up to the new arrival, it all makes sense. “Clark?”

Clark’s eyes snap to her, studying her face briefly before they widen in surprise. “Bo?”

Jonathan looks confused. “You two know each other?”

Bo can’t answer that question, unfortunately. The moment a viable source of healing steps into the room, her survival instincts kick in. She pushes Jonathan away, stumbles towards his father and mumbles something that might pass for an apology before laying one on him.

Familiar chi spills across her tongue as she pulls on the familiar source. Clark is strong and sturdy, but Bo knows enough by now to know he’s definitely not Fae, and that’s something she’ll want to interrogate later.

“Crap, she wasn’t kidding about the blue glowing eyes,” Jonathan says from over her shoulder. Bo breaks away, leaving Clark coughing but otherwise upright. She only takes enough to seal the wounds as best she can and stumbles backwards.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Clark looks very confused, as is his right, but also like something he’s been trying to make sense of for a while finally does. “It was you.”

“Yeah,” she says awkwardly. “I owe you…a really long explanation.”

“Do Jordan and I also get to sit in on this explanation?” Jonathan asks as his brother returns from the house, first aid kit in hand. “Because we would also like to know what was going on.”

Bo pauses, before glancing back to Clark because that’s going to be his call, given the subject involved. Clark glances from them to her, unsure of how to answer, before Kenzi returns.

“Okay, Dyson is on his way, but he’s still about an hour—oh, you look better.” The other woman blinks, confused, before turning to the new man in the barn. “Hello, Cornfed Hotness.”

Bo closes her eyes. “Kenzi, this is Clark.”

Kenzi blinks, then turns back to Bo. “Wait, you actually know this barn?”

Bo nods, and she catches the edges of Clark’s ears turning red, and she sighs. “It’s a really long story.”

“One we still want to hear,” Jonathan points out. “Mom might even too, given what just happened.”

Bo blinks, and then looks down at the wedding ring on Clark’s finger as she winces. “Damn. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s…well, it’s not okay, but it seems like there were extenuating circumstances.” He studies her for a moment, before he puts two and two together. “Did that heal you?”

“Yeah.” Bo eyes the corn field behind them and tries to weigh her options. Kenzi can see her doing the math.

“Are you going to be good to go back in there without a full heal?”

Bo considers, but given how they were barely staying ahead of Jenny when she was at full strength. She doesn’t want to try when she’s only got half a tank. She shakes her head. “Okay. We have an hour for Bo Story Time before my back up gets here and we have to deal with Jenny.” She glances over at Clark, and then down at her blood-covered torso. “Any chance I could use that shower again?”

He looks a little more untrusting this time, with so much he still doesn’t understand, but Clark is still Clark. He nods, his body language open as he gestures for them to follow him back to the house.

“Yeah. Of course.”

* * * * *

Lois is great, in Bo’s opinion.

Not that Clark is looking for her opinion on his wife, but she takes the fact that Bo had to kiss her husband to save her own life with an unusual amount of grace. She also seems to be equally curious about the explanation that Bo owes all of them. So after taking a quick shower to get the blood off of her and changing into a fresh pair of clothes, she finds herself perched on the couch in the Kent family room. A cup of tea rests in her hand and she hopes she can do this without things getting too messy.

As Clark passes her the tea, he asks, his voice low. “Is there any chance that we can keep this as PG as possible?”

Bo hesitates because rarely anything about her life is PG anymore. “I can try?”

Clark closes his eyes and sighs, before moving to the couch opposite her and sitting next to his wife. “Fine, explain it to me.” He pauses and gestures to his family. “Or us, rather.”

“Okay.” Starting at the beginning seems to be the best. “So, I’m a succubus.” Four pairs of eyes went wide and Clark looks a little green, so she quickly continues. “That I did not know when we met. I just knew that everything I touched died and was clearly an instrument of death and a curse on everyone I knew and I didn’t know why.”

“Which is why you were hiding in the barn.”

“Yes. I had been running for a while at that point, and I just needed a place to sleep, but you were incidental. I just really liked you and you were so nice and … things happened, and you didn’t die.” Bo still remembers that wave of relief. “You honestly don’t know what that meant to me at the time that you were fine.”

“Yeah, mostly,” Clark confirms. “I was just really run down for a couple of days. It was like I had a cold, which was weird, because I’d never had a cold before.”

“Yeah, speaking of that—what are you? Because you’re definitely not Fae, but you’re not human, either.”

Clark weighs that option for a moment, glancing between Kenzi and Bo, unsure of how much he wants to trust. “Can we just say not human and leave it at that?”

Bo nods. “Fair enough. Anyway, after I left, I eventually found the Fae. They taught me how to manage my feedings and the extents of my abilities so I don’t kill anyone anymore, which is … definitely an upside. The leaders of where I’m staying sent me here to track down a rogue Fae named Corn Jenny. Bascially every horror story ever told about corn fields? That’s her. And she’s way out of her jurisdiction, so they sent me to bring her back. That’s who stabbed me outside your barn.”

“Which is kind of my fault,” Jonathan admits sheepishly. “We were arguing with her and she pushed me out of the way.”

Lois looks back at her with a nod. “Thank you for that. I’ll forgive you for kissing my husband if it saved my son’s life.”

“I’ll take it,” Bo smiles. “But yeah. That’s the safe for work version. Once my friend Dyson gets here, we’ll track down Jenny and get out of your hair.”

“Do you need some help?” Clark asks. “It’s my corn field. I don’t want a murderous … Fae? Hanging out in there anymore than you do.”

Bo and Kenzi look at each other, and Kenzi raises an eyebrow curiously. “Does that non-humanness come with a side of super powers?”

Clark hesitates, like he’s trying to dance around the subject. “Something like that?”

Bo nods. “Works for me. Makes sense that you’d want to make sure it’s gone for good.”

“Good.” There’s the sound of tires scraping on the gravel drive. “And that’s probably Dyson. I’ll see you guys soon.”

She makes her way outside to meet Dyson at the car, and he raises an eyebrow curiously. “Everything okay?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

* * * * *

With Clark and Dyson’s help, a few hours later, they had Jenny hogtied and tossed in the backseat of Dyson’s car for the drive back to Canada. Clark is nice enough to drive Kenzi and Bo back to their car, where they have time to say goodbye, away from the prying eyes of his family.

“So.” She turns to face him with a smile. “Thanks again for the help. I promise the next time I show up in Smallville, I’ll do my best to call first.”

“I appreciate that,” Clark nods, before sliding his hands in his pockets. “And sorry for the ambush from the twins.”

“Hey, it happens with teenage boys. They’re trying to figure out how to be their own people.”

Clark nods in return before looking up at her with a smirk. “They think you’re way too hot for me, though.”

She laughs. “I think they’d be surprised what a little cornfed charm can land. Also, their mom is gorgeous, so clearly they don’t know what they’re talking about.” As most teenage boys rarely do. She offers her arms out in a hug, and he takes it, pulling her in closer. “It was really good to see you, Clark. I’m glad things worked out well for you.”

“You too, Bo.” As he steps back, he holds up his hand to Kenzi in a wave. “Nice meeting you, Kenzi.”

“See you around, Kansas,” Kenzi fires back from the passenger’s seat, waiting for Bo to join her.

The drive is mostly quiet until they reach the main highway heading north when Kenzi determines she’s kept quiet long enough and turns to Bo with a bright grin. “Dude. You know who he is, right?”

Bo blinks, before turning back to Kenzi. “What are you talking about?”

“I was watching him during the Corn Jenny showdown.” Kenzi ticks off powers on her fingers. “Super-speed, super hearing, wind breath, and completely impenetrable skin? Like did you see the way Jenny’s blades completely crumpled against his torso?”

Bo continues to blink at her in confusion before turning her eyes back on the road. “I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, come on, it’s obvious. You totally barn-banged Superman!”

“What?” Bo blanches and shakes her head. “No. No way.”

“It is literally right there in front of you—”

Bo tunes out as she continues to rant about all the connections she made regarding Clark and the world’s most powerful superhero. There’s no way that of all the barns in all the world she stumbles into Superman’s.

But she won’t deny that somewhere, in the back of her mind, there’s a small voice going … did she?

… Nah.

Edited 2023-10-15 16:05 (UTC)

[Part 1]

As they take the train back into the city where Allison is staying with the sorcerers, and Kamala gives Diego the run-down. About this world, the Blip, the Avengers, Captain Marvel and anything else she can think of that might be important. Diego nods along, and at first sends Allison glances that say, are we really supposed to be taking all of this from a kid. Allison understands the sentiment. But by the time they’re off the train, he’s swung around to her side and he, too, would kill to protect this sunshine child.

They’re assholes, but they’re not heartless.

“So do you know a way out of here?” he asks as they come up the steps of the New York Sanctum. “Working with these sorcerers or whatever to find a way for us to get back to our world? Because I’ve been wandering around for almost a year, and I haven’t found anything.”

Allison hesitates before looking up at him. “Yeah…about that.”

Diego can see it in her eyes before she can say it, and then there’s a smaller, softer. “So it’s all gone, then?”

She nods. “Pretty much here or nothing.”

“I’ll take here, then.” Better here than dead. “Do we know if any of the others made it?”

Allison shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Wong, see if there’s a way that he might track us? I really don’t want to put them on Kamala’s other contact’s radar.”

“That other contact being?”

“Captain Monica Rambeau, head of SWORD,” Kamala supplies, and Diego raises an eyebrow.

“Military contact?”

“Pretty much.”

“Yeah, no. Let’s stick with the hocus pocus.”

Wong and Strange do some magical scans of Diego and step away for a while, leaving the three of them to wander the Sanctum while they wait. Kamala catches him up on their superheroing adventures while they go.

“We haven’t figured out her superhero name yet. Mostly because I didn’t know what her powers were before today, but—”

“She’s the Rumor,” Diego supplies, before raising his eyebrow at his sister. “Surprised she didn’t tell you that herself.”

“Did you all have superhero names?”

“A lot of them didn’t make as much sense as we got older,” Diego admits. “They were all branding, with our dad trying to make us be something we weren’t.”

“Heroes?”

“Soldiers,” Allison corrects her gently, and Kamala seems like she doesn’t like that context. Allison is yet again glad that her father is dead, so he could never get his hands on a kid like Kamala.

Diego is about to go in further when Wong and Strange return to the room. The conversation is dropped, for now, as they turn to focus on the matter at hand.

“When we were performing our scans, we noticed something interesting.” Wong waves his hand and generates a shaded silhouette that looks like Allison. “We noticed it when you first joined us a year ago, Allison. Until we had your brother to compare to, we weren’t sure if it was unique to you and your abilities or something different.”

He creates another similar silhouette of Diego. Both images feature those tiny floating globules of light. “When we took a closer look, it seems like they featured some kind of replicating energy—a kind of infinite creation on a rapid scale.”

As he says that, Allison and Diego both sit up and lean forward, before looking at each other.

“You don’t think?”

“Maybe?”

“Dad never said—”

“Dad never told us shit and you know it.”

“Maybe if either of you would actually complete a sentence or provide context,” Strange begins tersely, “we might help you narrow that down?”

Allison and Diego share another long look before he shrugs. “You know these people better than I do.”

Allison nods before taking a deep breath. “So. My dad adopted seven children with powers—I told you as much. But what I didn’t say was that my father adopted seven children with powers, all born on October first, 1989, to women who had not been pregnant previously.”

Strange, being the medical doctor of the group, is the one who gets it first and promptly looks horrified. “Are you saying these women immaculately conceived, gestated and gave birth to a child within the same day?”

“Honestly, from what we’ve heard, it was more likely minutes.”

“Oh, my god,” Kamala pipes up as the penny drops for her next. “Those poor women.”

“And all of them had powers?” Strange asks.

“As far as we’re aware.” Allison looks back at Diego. “How many were there? Thirty something?”

“Forty-three,” Diego supplies and Strange balks.

“Forty-three? And they never found out why this happened?”

“From what I could tell when I looked into it is it mostly happened to poor women who didn’t have a lot of resources. Or people who looked like us.” Diego gestures between him and Allison. “When it didn’t happen again, people stopped caring. Why do you think our father could buy seven of us in the first place?”

“Putting that horror show aside for a second,” Strange waves a hand as though to try to will it from his mind. “Allison, you asked us if there was a way we could try to find out if the rest of your siblings landed here as well. If you all have these particles—”

“You can track them with those?” It’s the first bit of good news she’s had in a while. If she and Diego could track down the rest of them, maybe she would at least have her family to hold on to, and not just keep clinging to the Khans, as nice to her as they are.

“It will take some time, but yes, I think it’s possible.”

“Great. I will take it.” Allison then winces. “Do you mind if Diego stays here, too? I know I’ve been putting you out—”

“If you keep dealing with the front desk, we’ll make it work.”

Diego raises an eyebrow at his sister, and she smirks. “I’m good with the local color.” He snorts before turning back to the sorcerers.

“I appreciate it. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Strange and Wong leave them to go work on the spell and then three remaining turn to each other. “So,” Diego sighs. “What now?”

“Well. I don’t know about you guys, but I know my mom is cooking tonight, and she always makes too much, so if you guys want to come back for dinner—”

“Dinner?” Diego looks at his sister.

“Muneeba’s biryani will make you cry tears of joy,” Allison confirms. “So I don’t know about you, but I’m going to go stuff my face with free food.”

“I’m always down for free food,” Diego confirms.

“Great! Let’s head back to the subway. We can probably take the PATH back.” Kamala bounces up to gather her things and Diego pauses.

“Wait. Don’t tell me we have to go all the way back to Jersey.”

* * * * *

Bellies full and feeling the happy-sleepy that comes with a good meal, Diego and Allison sit shoulder to shoulder on the Khans’ couch and Diego sighs. “Okay, you were right. That was definitely worth coming all the way back to Jersey for.”

“Told you so.”

“I don’t know how you do it, but you always find the best people.”

“That is not true. You haven’t met my ex-husband.”

“True. But you got Claire out of the deal and I know she was a rockstar, so he couldn’t have been that bad.”

Allison tenses, but after a year of grieving, it’s not as painful to think about her daughter. “I wish you could have met her. She already loved all of you.”

Diego turns and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sure she did. And we loved her too.”

They sit there in silence, enjoying each other’s company after having been alone for so long, when Muneeba pokes her head around from the kitchen.

“I have leftovers for you to take back to Mr. Wong and Mr. Strange, if one of you could take them.”

“Yep.” Diego groans as he pushes himself to his feet. “Be right there.”

As Diego wanders off, Kamala comes to settle into the space next to her and Allison drapes an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Its good,” Kamala begins, “that you found your brother, right?”

“Yeah,” Allison responds without hesitation. “I’m sure we’ll be fighting soon enough, but I always miss him when he isn’t here.”

“And now that Dr. Strange and Wong have a way for you to track down the rest of your siblings, you’re probably going to leave?”

Allison picks up the hesitation in her voice, and that the question isn’t really about her finding her family. It’s more about whether Kamala counted among their number. She squeezes her shoulders again before shaking her head.

“Even if we do, it’ll only be temporary. New York was our city back home, too. Besides, my siblings have been here for over a year at this point. They might have their own lives to worry about. I know I already do.”

Kamala’s face brightens at that, before returning the hug. “Good. Because I’d really miss you if you left.”

“I’d miss you too,” Allison nods, before Diego comes back around and taps the back of her couch.

“Turn on the news. Turn on the news now.”

Allison blinks up at him in surprise, but Kamala does as she’s told, reaching for the remote and turning on the television. A news report flashes across the screen, featuring a familiar face.

“Sources say that online internet sensation Klaus Hargreeves seems to have started what some are calling a cult—”

“Oh, Jesus.” Allison buries her face in her hand.

“Let me guess,” Kamala asks. “Another member of your family?”

“Yep.” Diego shakes his head. “At least he made things easy for us.”

Allison highly doubts that Klaus makes things easy the way Diego seems to think he does, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.

Allison watches as the fight ping-pongs between her siblings and their father, as they litigate options to avoid the end of the world. None of the pros seem to save her daughter, but Allison doesn’t know why she’s surprised at this point. Her pain only matters to her, after all. Why would they care about anything else?

Reginald’s eyes meet hers across the proceedings and she knows what he expects her to do. He knows what she can do. But as much as she knows she could, she won’t take their choice away from them. A rumor only lasts for so long. Even if they do as she says, once the spell breaks, they’ll never forgive her. They either do this because they want to, or not at all.

What she didn’t count on was seeing something large and silver come hovering out of the endless expanse ahead of them. She blinks twice, almost as though to confirm what she’s seeing, before standing up and pointing.

“Hey guys? What about Plan C?”

“What Plan C?” Reginald snaps, but when he turns to follow her finger, his eyes widen. “What on earth is that?”

“That? Is a solution I think we can all live with,” Five comments dryly. “Say hello to the Waverider, Dad.”

“Hello, Hargreeves family.” Behrad’s voice booms out of the loudspeaker. “Come with us if you want to live.”

“We’ll take it,” Diego replies, taking Lila’s hand and pulling her towards the direction of the ship. The rest of the siblings follow in line behind them, including Sloane and Ben, as the door to the ship opens and they’re all able to file inside.

As Allison moves past him, Reginald takes her arm. “What is this? We had a deal.”

“I said I would help convince them. But I’m not going to just stand here and die while you try to persuade them.”

“And this Waverider? Who pilots it.”

“The Legends,” Allison sighs as she yanks her arm away to head on board. “Pretty sure you’re going to hate them.”

The crowds part as they say their hellos again, and Allison meets Nate’s eyes through the crowd. It only takes a few steps before he crosses the bridge to her, and as his arms wrap around her, she feels like she could breathe again.

“How did you know to find us?”

“Things started going crazy haywire in the timeline. Figured you guys might have something to do with it.” He pulls back to look at her. “Didn’t think it would be this bad, though. What the hell happened?”

Allison’s face sobers, and she gives him a half-smile. “Got anything to drink?”

“Right. One of those.” He turns and holds out a hand for her to follow. “Right this way, milady. Your open bar awaits.

* * * * *

After Allison finishes telling Nate the story—all of it, including the ill-advised deal with her father—she tips back, finishing the rest of her glass and waiting for him to respond. She doesn’t blame him for taking his time. It’s a lot to process.

“Damn,” he finally says softly. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He reaches over and takes her hand gently. “I’m sorry about Claire.”

Her eyes water, and she attempts to blink it away the tears. She can’t be crying right now. “Can we … do you think there’s a way to fix it?” Nate has a look on his face that seems like he doesn’t want to be the one to tell her no, but he isn’t sure.

“I don’t know, Allison.”

“But us not existing is the reason the world ends. So we fix that part, and the world goes back to normal, right?”

“Maybe?”

It’s not the answer she wants to hear, but it’s also not no either. “Just maybe?”

Nate sits quietly before taking her hand and pulling her up into a standing position. “Let me show you something.”

Allison follows him through the halls of the ship that are suddenly filled with noise as the Hargreeves and Legends are reunited or introduced. She doesn’t let herself get distracted. She keeps herself laser focused on her daughter, as her daughter is the only way she’s going to survive this. If she keeps believing, there’s hope.

He steps into one lab and closes the doors behind them, moving to sit on the edge of the containment cell.

“Gideon, run Zari’s algorithm.”

Allison watches as mathematical phrases and code spring to life above her, displaying a bunch of luminous dots in a cluster above them. “What is this?”

“My friend Zari—not the current Zari, but a different one—needed to save her brother from a fate he never should have had. So she built an algorithm to determine what events would need to change in order to save him.”

“But I know what event would save her.”

“Are you sure?” Nate turns and asks her, eyebrow raised. “Because changing one thing can knock down a bunch of dominoes that you might not even realize.”

“No, I know. Harlan killed our mothers on October 1, 1989. If we keep him from doing that, maybe get Viktor to him first or something, or go back to the sixties, then maybe—”

“Sure. You save Harlan. You save your mothers. But you restart the world right back on the path it was already on and—”

“Dad adopts the seven of us. He tells me to rumor away Viktor’s powers. Viktor still ends the world.” Nate nods as she buries her face in her hands. “Shit.”

“I never said it would be easy.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and keeps her close. “But I think we can do it.”

Allison nods slowly as she brings her face back up. “Dad says he has a way to fix it, back in the hotel. But I don’t know how much we can trust him.”

“Do you need us to keep an eye on him?” Nate asks.

“At least while we’re here. I don’t want him getting any bright ideas about the Waverider.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Ms. Hargreeves. I have your father well in hand.”

Allison smirks. “If anyone could, it’s you, Gideon.” She pauses, looking up at the algorithm in front of them. “Will you really help me?”

“Look at me.” Nate waits until she makes eye contact with him again. “I will do everything I can to help you get your daughter back. And if that means making a Faustian bargain with your not-dad to do it, then I will.”

Allison laughs before shaking her head. “I don’t think you’ll have to go that far.” She then tips forward, resting her head against his shoulder. “But thank you. You don’t know how much it means for me to hear that.”

“Anytime. I’ve got your back.”

She closes her eyes, relaxing against him before adding. “You realize that this means all of us are just moving into the Waverider for the time being, and last I checked, you guys still only had one bathroom, right?”

“…Yeah, this might take a little more careful planning. Gideon?”

“I’ll see what I can move around.”

“You’re the best, Gideon.” He glances back at her. “We’ll figure this out. One way or another.”

When Nate says it, for the first time in days, she actually believes it.

Raff finishes counting their accumulated gold, and she scowls. Fay notices faster than Keeneye does, tapping the goliath on the arm, but Keeneye is the one to call it out.

“What? What is that face? That is not a good face.”

The three of them had just gotten back from their latest dungeon raid, the one that Raff’s contact assured them would set them up for life. Unfortunately for them, it didn’t prove as profitable as they’d hoped. Raff glances up at both of them before leaning back in the tavern booth.

“We’re still short.”

Fay frowns. “This seems like an excessive amount of money for a boat.”

“For any kind of boat, yes. For a high-quality boat that can withstand the tempers of the Lucidian Ocean? This is honestly kind of steal. Mort is only really doing it for this price because I’m a friend and we’re still fucking short.”

She resists the urge to punch the table and send the assorted pieces of gold and platinum sprawling where anyone might steal it. Instead, she shuffles it back into her coin pouch and reaches for her tankard of ale with a sigh.

“We’re going to have to do the Sepesca job.”

Keeneye squints at her. “You said that the job was too dangerous.”

“I did. But unfortunately, we’re out of options from reputable sources. At least we know the wizard is good for the gold. It’s that or …” Wait. While Raff doesn’t know how much longer she can wait to return to her favorite place in the world, she also doesn’t want to risk her friends to do it. She sits in the silence for a moment, contemplating, running what she’s heard about the Ruins of Sepesca and shakes her head again. No, her instincts were right the first time. It’s too dangerous for just the three of them. “We’ll just wait. You’re right, it’s too much of a risk.”

Keeneye and Fay share a glance as Raff broods with her ale before Keeneye leans forward. “This Sepesca job. It would give us what we need?”

“And then some. The gold for bringing the wizard back what he wanted would cover what we need for the boat, and any additional loot we find could go to a crew, maintenance, supplies. We would be set for at least until we got to Darktow.”

Fay nods. “What would we need in order to be ready to do it?”

“A healer. Like an absolutely dedicated healer. Ideally a cleric, because who knows what goblins or undead shit the Cloaked Serpent left behind when he sundered the place.” Keeneye and Fay share another glance and Raff squints. “What? What are those faces?”

“We could ask Sam,” Keeneye supplies.

Raff raises an eyebrow. “The expositor from the Cobalt Soul? Why would she help us?”

Fay shrugs. “We made a pretty good team, back in the Ashkeeper Peaks.”

“And she was a cleric. Very good with healing, if I remember correctly. Plus, she had that powerful moonbeam spell? That could come in handy against creepy crawlies.”

Raff leans back in her seat again, mulling it over as she takes another long sip of her ale. “Maybe there’s information in the ruins she can take back to the Cobalt Soul.”

“See?” Keeneye smiles. “Everybody wins. We get our boat, she gets knowledge, we all go home happy.”

“We can’t do this on our own. If we ask, the worst she can do is say no,” Fay adds. “If she says no, we find someone else.”

Raff weighs the options a few more times before nodding. “Do we know which branch of the Cobalt Soul she works out of?”

* * * * *

Sneaking into the empire is always Raff’s least favorite thing, but it’s worth it to get to the Cobalt Reserve in Zadash. After requesting to see Sam, the archivist leaves them standing in the lobby. When she returns, they’re all wearing matching smiles, almost as though they’re trying to put their best foot forward.

“… Hi, guys,” Sam says slowly. “What are you doing here?”

Fay and Keeneye immediately look at Raff, and she takes a deep breath. “We had a proposition for you.” Yes, that sounds very businesslike and professional. Good. “Can we buy you a drink?”

Sam seems intrigued, if nothing else, and seems to sense that it’s probably not the thing they should talk about in front of her superiors, so she nods. “Sure. Let’s have a drink.”

They walk down the road to a nearby tavern and once they’re all settled in, Raff picks at the plate of poutine as she speaks. “We have this job, and we need a fourth person for it—a healer. We were wondering if you might be interested.”

Sam glances at each of them before responding. “What kind of job?”

“We need to fetch a relic of Melora out of the Ruins of Sepesca.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Why?”

“A wizard will pay us a very gracious amount of gold for it.”

“So you’re going to grave rob a holy site of the Ki’Nau people for … money?”

Keeneye and Fay both look back at her and Raff holds up a finger. “We didn’t know it was a holy site. We just knew it was overrun with goblins and there might be some loot in it.”

“Well, whatever the relic is, leave it alone.” Sam reaches for her journal and flips it open. “Though I may have a better idea.”

“Does it pay?” Raff asks immediately, and Sam’s eyes narrow.

“Doing the right thing shouldn’t depend on coin.”

“No, but coin means we eat. We weren’t taking the job because we were invested in grave robbing, we were taking it because we needed the money.”

Sam’s eyes dart over their armor and belongings and Keeneye speaks up before she can counter it. “We’re saving up for a pirate ship. Apparently, they are very expensive.”

“Doesn’t mean you should resort to—”

“We didn’t know! We thought it was just the destroyed temple and the goblins.” Raff bites her tongue at how the Ki’Nau people worshiped an evil sea snake that repeatedly terrorized the water genasi people living in the Lucidian Ocean. She knows that doesn’t make them any less people. Sam doesn’t have to tell her that.

There has to be a middle ground.

“We need one hundred gold before we’ll be paid in full for the boat.” Raff looks over at Sam. “If you have an option that will close that gap—maybe even a little extra for crew and supplies, then maybe we can talk.”

“How much was the wizard paying you for that relic?”

“A lot more than a hundred gold, plus whatever loot we gathered on the way.”

Sam contemplates for a moment, before nodding. “The Cobalt Soul will pay you a hundred gold to come with me and try to banish the remaining members of the Cloaked Serpent’s influence from the ruins of the temple.”

Raff’s eyes narrow because something about this doesn’t feel entirely legitimate. But Sam is trustworthy enough that she doesn’t think too far into it for now. Whatever happens, they’ll get their coin.

“We won’t touch the graves, but we can loot whoever we might take out along the way.”

“Deal.” Sam sticks out a hand for Raff to shake, which she does. Keeneye and Fay seem pleased, but Raff suspects that this is more about the company than the job.

“Alright. Let’s go fight some goblins.”

* * * * *

The job goes easily enough and besides the one hundred gold for a job well done; they come away with a few interesting magical items that they can sell back to the aforementioned wizard. It’s at a much lower price, since none of these things are what he wanted; but Raff has a feeling that he would rather keep these interesting items in his tower rather than have them floating around in the world. Raff, Keeneye and Fay head back to Port Damali to pay off Mort for the balance on their boat; hire a small crew; and purchase supplies and prepare to set sail on the Sea Squall.

One day, Raff comes back to the ship to see a familiar air genasi standing near the docks, staring up at the ship. Raff watches her for a moment, quietly, before speaking up. “You should come with us.”

Sam spins around in surprise, hand over a small holy symbol dangling around her neck. Raff’s never actually seen it before, which makes sense—worship of the Moon Maiden is forbidden in the Empire. But Port Damali is not part of the Empire, and neither is the ocean, much to the dismay of the plotting wizards in their ivory towers.

“What?” she asks, and Raff shrugs.

“You paid into it, after all. You should come.”

“Oh, but I—”

“The Cobalt Soul doesn’t pay that well for their jobs,” Raff points out. “You wanted to see Sepesca. Add it to your map, maybe do a little good. I don’t care about that. But you paid into the boat. Which means you should get to sail on it.”

Sam glances back, hesitantly, at the city behind them. “Where are you going?”

“To Darktow first. Have a few debts to collect and need to do a whole song and dance with the Plank King. But after that…wherever the hell we want.”

Raff can see the curiosity that crosses her face, as her eyes turn out towards the ocean. “Maybe for just one trip,” Sam decides, nodding in Raff’s direction. “Just to see what’s out there.”

Raff grins. “Have anything you need to pick up before we go?” Sam shakes her head. “Alright then, let’s go. We’re going to be setting off soon.” Raff heads up the gangplank, the cleric following not far behind her. As she steps onto the main deck, she jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Look who I found.”

Fay and Keeneye turn towards her and bright smiles crossing their faces when they see the cleric behind her. Keeneye makes her way over to scoop Sam up in a big hug.

“I’m glad you came. This is going to be fun.”

The conversation fades into a cheerful buzz behind her as Raff moves up to check on the wheelman. She places a hand on his shoulder and nods. “Looks like we’re all here. Let’s shove off.”

No need to waste time. All that lays beyond the horizon is waiting for them.

David is not a big drinker.

Probably one of the side benefits of being possessed during prime drinking years. Sure, Dagon liked to indulge. But David couldn’t feel it on the other side, and while he did like to enjoy in a whiskey or a beer occasionally, he doesn’t drink to the point of excess. Especially once he goes home—leaving yourself exposed in that way is asking to get stabbed in the back.

Three days before his wedding, however, he gets absolutely hammered.

He knows well that the entire thing was his plan. He scrambled to get Ezra to agree to it. His entire mental state is his own fault. He also absolutely knows that he wants to marry Ezra. He’s just fucking terrified that everything they have going for them is going to fall apart.

So he’s drinking. It’s a poor life choice, but it’s the life choice that keeps him from running off to Hong Kong or however far a door can take him. You don’t drink and try to transport yourselves through doors. That’s a recipe for losing a limb.

He’s lying on the couch by the time Ezra gets home from his day at work, watching whatever cartoon is on Cartoon Network. The colors are all blurs but someone is singing him a lovely song about taking care of your teeth. Ezra’s head tips as he looks at him, trying to gauge what brought about this turn of events.

“Babe. You okay?”

“Not so much,” David sighs, before pointing to the bottle of whiskey. He really only drank a couple of glasses. Apparently without a demon, he’s quite the lightweight compared to everyone else he knows. “I had some whiskey, and now I’m listening to a song about teeth.”

“It’s very catchy,” Ezra deadpans, before making his way over to take away the bottle and the glasses. “Can I ask what prompted the whiskey?”

“You can, but you might not like it if I tell you.”

“Are you drinking yourself into oblivion to keep yourself from leaving me because you’ve decided that you hate me; but feel you have to suffer through the wedding, anyway?”

David’s silent for possibly a little too long as he wrestles his way around that sentence. Possibly so long that Ezra turns to fix an annoyed look on him and he immediately throws up his hands in protest. “No, no! Well, yes, but not because I hate you.”

Ezra squints at him. “So if you don’t hate me, then why the cold feet?”

“My feet are pretty warm, actually.” He glances down to where he has them shoved behind one of the back pillows on the couch.

“The metaphorical ones, Dave.”

“Oh. I don’t hate you. I hate my parents.”

“Information I already had.”

“And I don’t think you deserve to be married to them.”

“I would consider that right. Good thing I’m not marrying them, I’m marrying you.”

“But you’re kind of marrying them.” David grumbles as he turns to stare up at the ceiling, attempting to count the tiles even though they’re not forming clear shapes at the moment. “By marrying me, you also get them. And there’s still a part of my brain that isn’t convinced that they will not murder you right before the wedding and make marry Jaqueline instead.”

“I still don’t know how they ever thought that you two were going to make it work.”

“She’s not so bad on the inside,” David muses. “She has a soft squishy center, but it’s way, way way down at the bottom of her soul, under a pit-trap where no one can find it.”

Ezra smirks. “I think by it being at the bottom of something that automatically implies that it’s not the center.”

“I’m drunk, my metaphors don’t have to make sense.” David rolls back over again, pressing his face against Ezra’s arm. “But the David I was before I got possessed had the passcode to the pit trap. Because we knew we were all we had and while it wasn’t love, it was trust. The David I am now made her change the passcode.”

“That metaphor makes a little more sense.” Ezra shifts slightly, running her fingers through his hair. “What’s really bothering you, David?”

“What if we’re wrong?” It’s the question that echoes around his brain more often than not. “What if we can’t fix the Colony? What if the Colony’s problem isn’t the people running it, it’s the people in it, and there are more of them than us?”

Ezra’s quiet, because he and David both know that these are questions he asks all the time. Ezra is always looking for other options—options that mean better things for their life, their relationship, their mental health. David’s always been the one who’s known what he has to do, ever since the exorcism freed him to make his own choices again.

There’s still a part of him that’s so angry he just wants to burn it all down now, regardless of who gets hurt. He wants to destroy them the way he’s been destroyed. There’s a part of him that will never let go of that, no matter how much he may want to.

But sometimes, he asks the same questions Ezra does.

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to reassure you we’re doing the right thing? Because sometimes I don’t even know myself.” Ezra’s voice is a calming balm on an otherwise confused mind. “But at the end of the day, I know I want to marry you. And if that means tearing down a coven from the inside out in order to have the life together that we want, then I’m going to help you do it.”

David smiles. “I know. That’s why I got drunk. So I wouldn’t run away. Just … it’s never you I’m running from. It’s always running from them.”

“Then I’ll do my best to be worthy of something to run to.” Ezra shifts and pulls David to his feet. “C’mon. We’re going to get some water in you and then off to bed. Doctor’s orders.” There’s a pause when he finally gets his fiancé upright. “You’re not going to puke, are you?”

David shakes his head. “Nope, not that drunk.”

“Good.” He places his hands gently on David’s shoulders as he guides him from behind to the bedroom. “If it makes you feel any better, some days I don’t think we’re really that worse off. Because if we weren’t dealing with the Colony, we would deal with my mother.”

“Aww, I like your mom,” David smiles as he gets tucked into bed. Ezra walks away to go shower off his day at the hospital, but David catches his hand before he goes too far. “I love you.”

Ezra glances back at him with an indulgent smile and nods. “I love you too.”

David closes his eyes and drifts off, because in the end, that will always be enough.

Carol Danvers is not great at people. She’s aware of this about herself. It’s something she’s (kinda) trying to work on.

Emphasis on the kinda.

Wanda Maximoff is probably the only person alive who knows what it’s like to be bound to an Infinity Stone. To have to wrangle that kind of power and how it sets you apart from everyone else around you. Carol would actually really love to talk to Wanda about it, after the final battle, but even she has enough people sense to realize that’s not a good idea. After losing Natasha, losing Steve, and losing her boyfriend that Carol never met, Wanda is a walking open wound. She doesn’t want to have a chat with some rando about powers and space rocks.

Fair. And since Carol’s not good at the comforting thing, she tables that for later. She’ll be back to Earth (eventually) and they can talk then. Good plan.

It’s years after when she runs into Thor in some far off system. After they smash some space monsters together and go grab a drink, she mentions she may be returning to Earth soon, and Thor asks her to check on Wanda. He hasn’t heard from her in a while, and he’s concerned, but he can’t go back just yet. Carol says she can do that, and, hey. Maybe this is her chance finally to have that conversation.

Poking around Wanda’s last knowns, however, only seems to get her a portal into the New York Sanctum for her trouble, and a sorcerer scowling at her.

Carol is less than impressed. “This better be good.”

“What do you want with Wanda Maximoff?”

“Who said it was your business?” Carol peers past this weirdo’s shoulder to the Sorcerer Supreme behind him. “Hi, Wong.”

“Captain Danvers. Apologies for the sudden intrusion.”

“Apology accepted. Who is this again?”

“This is Dr. Strange. If you would answer his questions, I would appreciate it.”

Carol sighs, but unfortunately she likes Wong, so she’ll do as he asks. “Fine. A friend who hasn’t heard from her in a while asked me to check on her. Do you know where she is?”

Strange and Wong exchange a look, before Strange replies: “Wanda Maximoff is dead.”

Carol glances between them, trying to gauge if they’re serious. “No, she’s not.”

“Pretty sure she is. A giant stone temple came down on her head.” Strange stares her down like he thinks she’s just going to accept his version of events because he says so. “I was there. I saw it.”

“Yeah, but she’s like me.”

“Not exactly like you,” Wong clarifies. “The mind stone is a little different from the Tesseract. Just because you can fly through a spaceship and come back hale and whole from the other side doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone. Wanda had a twin brother who was also affected by the mind stone and he was killed many years ago.”

“I read the reports of what happened in New Jersey. It seems like Wanda has way more power than her speedster brother.”

“Maybe she did. But she was also tangling with dark forces. When she destroyed their sanctum, it’s possible that they took her soul in retaliation.”

Okay, that she doesn’t have an argument for. Even so, the idea that Wanda is dead doesn’t feel right, and she doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s just the fact that the mention of “souls” makes Carol think of church, where all the things a woman should be were none of the things Carol was. But she knows that Wong and Strange play in a completely different realm of experience, so she lets it go.

“Fine. I’ll tell Thor. I’m sure he’ll take that great.” She can see the look of guilt that flashes across their faces, but she doesn’t feel bad about it. Leaving Thor oblivious to the fact that he lost another friend doesn’t actually make things better. If they’re not brave enough to tell him to his face, then she will.

… After she’s vetted it herself.

* * * * *

Finding the place doesn’t take as much effort as she thought it would. As much as the Infinity Stones are gone and destroyed, the pieces of them that remain in Carol and Wanda still call to each other. It’s almost like a quiet hum in the back of her mind, letting her know that another of herself is near. It still takes time, though, and sometimes she thinks she should just break the news to Thor and leave it at that. She can’t.

It's that hum. It keeps telling her there’s something she’s missing. So she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and follows it.

She’s flying for a while before she settles down at a small cabin on the edge of a pretty little lake. It’s the ideal place Carol imagines for retirees and people who are done actually doing things with their life. Not a place she would have expected to find Wanda. It’s possible that she simply hid out here for a time before she died, and Carol is picking up the after-effects, but she has to see for sure.

There’s a car in the driveway, and so Carol does the sensible thing. She goes up and knocks on the door.

When the door opens, the person who greets her is not Wanda Maximoff. But it also is? The hum in the back of her mind is loud, vibrant, present in a way that it hasn’t been since she got here, but the face she’s looking at is definitely not Wanda’s.

“Wanda?”

The woman scowls. “There’s no one here by that name.”

“I think there is.”

“Well, you’re wrong. Go away.”

Carol barely sees the woman’s eyes flash red before she’s being forced back into the recesses of her mind. It’s something she’s experienced before, with the Kree, and she reacts impulsively, eyes flaring as she forces that intrusion back out again.

“Get out of my head.”

The resulting collision forces the woman backwards, and in that moment, the disguise flickers. She sees Wanda underneath and immediately curses herself for choosing the blunt force solution to every problem. That’s not why she’s here. She holds up her hands in response.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to hurt you. I just want to talk.” She pauses. “I’m not going to tell the sorcerers where you are, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman’s face flickers, and soon Wanda appears in full, slowly pushing to her feet. “You won’t? But Strange—”

“Is a dick and a coward. I don’t owe him anything. And as much as I do like Wong, I don’t work for him.”

“If you’re not here because of them, why are you here?”

“Because of Thor.” Wanda seems surprised, and she continues. “He hadn’t heard from you in a while, and he was worried. I was going back to Earth, so I said I’d look into it.”

Wanda considers that, before nodding and pushing up to her feet. “I’m sorry about trying to influence your mind. I’m just—”

“Trying to stay out of everyone’s way. I get it.” Carol pauses. “Well … ‘get it’ probably isn’t the right phrase, but based on what Wong said happened, I would understand why you would want to stay hidden.”

Wanda nods again. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”

“Sure,” Carol nods. “Sounds good.”

* * * * *

Over the course of the next hour, Wanda tells Carol about Westview, Agatha, the Darkhold, and everything that came after. Carol can’t help but feel that her initial assessment of an open wound was correct. The only problem is, no one was there to actually help her heal it. Not even Barton. Carol feels, yet again, that the fact that Clint was the one who came back from the trip for the Soul Stone and not Natasha was a waste.

She doesn’t have to live with Barton, though, which is a good thing. For Barton.

Carol toys for a moment with whether she should have reached out. She’s not good at compassion or empathy—she has it, but her way of showing it is always more like a hammer than a hand. But she thinks she might have a way to help Wanda, and keep her off the radar of the Sorcerer Supreme.

“Have you ever been to space?”

Wanda blinks at her like she’s lost her mind. “No. I haven’t been to space.”

“Maybe you should.” Carol shrugs. “Did wonders for me.”

Wanda sets her teacup to the side before leaning forward. “What, exactly, are you getting at?”

“I’m getting at the fact that you have a friend who’s concerned for you. Unlike the ones here on Earth who care, but not enough.”

“Thor left just like Steve did.”

“Yeah, because he trusted the shitheads here to actually do their job as your friend, and none of them did.” Carol can call them shitheads. She’s met them. “All you had was Dr. Strange apparently, and you can see how that worked out.” She leans forward to meet Wanda’s eyes. “Thor sent me here because he was worried about you, and I think if he knew what was going on, he’d be furious that no one tried to help you.”

After all, Thor stood by Loki far longer than he probably deserved.

“And if you go to space, you’ll be off Strange’s radar; hang out with your friend; and maybe not have to sit in the world where you’ve lost so much so you can actually start healing. Plus, no one out there knows you as the witch that tried to destroy the multiverse. You’ll just be Wanda.”

Carol has a feeling it’s been a long time since she was just Wanda.

Wanda considers quietly, giving Carol a chance to finish her tea, which actually isn’t bad. Maybe she is a tea person after all. “You could take me there?”

“I’d have to borrow one of Fury’s ships, but he doesn’t really say no to me.” Regardless of whether it’s Fury or Talos, they know better to say no to Carol Danvers. “I won’t have to tell him why, either.”

Wanda nods. “I think that’s not a bad idea.”

“Good,” Carol smiles. “Let me pop over to talk to Fury, and I’ll let you know when everything’s squared away.”

Wanda nods as she gets up to make her way to the door, and as Carol steps through, Wanda stops her. “Carol? Thank you for coming.”

Carol smiles in return. “Anytime.”

“Just in case this doesn’t work, who exactly are we blaming for any mess made?”

Freya watches as Hayley glances over her shoulder at her sister-in-law, an expectant eyebrow raised at the answer to that question. It’s been almost a year since the rest of her siblings had taken the separate pieces of the Hollow and flew to separate edges of the world. Freya and Hayley have been figuring out the balance to managing Hope in her time home from school. It includes things like magic lessons and comping mechanisms for controlling her temper, but also finding the balance to let her still be a child.

It takes doing. But Freya knows how hard she and Hayley are both working to maintain the piece, and the spell Hayley wants her to each Hope is, well. It’s prone to going wrong if they’re not too careful.

“How bad exactly is this mess going to get?”

“Depending on how focused Hope is? It could be rather contained to … ” Freya makes an explosion gesture with her hands, and Hayley sighs.

“It’s just a simple cloaking spell.”

“The cloaking spell you want her to do is not simple.” If Freya’s particularly honest, spells are never simple, but this one goes the extra mile from “nothing is here” to “don’t look here.” It is more versatile, allowing Hope to be more flexible in where she goes without having to be anchored or remain still. It makes sense why Hayley would want her to learn it.

But if Hope doesn’t feel like being careful with her magic today—which, she is eight; it is a hazard—it could make things a little chaotic in the Quarter. Peace is still tentative and fragile.

“Are you saying she can’t handle it?”

“No. Hope is an exceptional witch, as the first of our line often is. She just has a great deal of power to manage and the attention span of a child. It might be worth it to gauge her mood today and adjust or have a convenient scapegoat for the chaos.”

Hayley nods slowly, considering, before tipping her head to the side. “Depends on the size of the mess. If it doesn’t leave the house, then we’ll just say what it is. A young witch trying to manage her magic. But if it gets bigger than that … blame Kol?”

Freya smirks because her brother would make a convenient scapegoat. He’s one, not here and two, has a reputation for encouraging his young niece to take on spells that are more about menace than magic. “Makes sense.”

“No one’s going to actually get hurt if this goes bad, will they?”

“No, not at all.” Freya shakes her head. “Some things might just be a little hard to find for a while.”

“Okay.” Hayley nods. “Then yeah. Kol is a good scapegoat. And I’ll also give Vincent a heads up Hope is trying something new. That should help keep people on their toes.”

Freya nods, before turning to collect her niece and head back to her tower. Whatever happens this afternoon should be interesting.

* * * * *

“Why are you always teaching me spells for hiding?”

Hope’s perfectly innocent question is valid, and Freya moves to sit across from her as she lays out the requirements for the spell. “Because we want you to keep yourself safe. Sometimes that means knowing when to hide versus when to fight.”

“But I am going to have to fight eventually, right?” Hope watches her aunt carefully. It’s the type of look that means Freya’s answer matters, so she takes a moment to ruminate on it.

“Yes. Eventually you’ll have to. But right now, that’s not your job. That’s my and your mother’s jobs.”

Hope pauses. “What about when I’m at school?”

“At school, that responsibility falls to your teachers and the headmaster.”

“Oh.”

Freya doesn’t like the amount of surprise in Hope’s tone. “Oh?”

“Headmaster Saltzman says that we all have to protect each other. And that knowing how to fight is part of that.”

Freya’s lips purse at that, considering Hope’s statement carefully. It’s not that she doesn’t think Hope should learn how to take care of herself, but how the statement is framed makes it seem like this isn’t about Hope. It’s about the rest of the students and Hope putting herself in the line of fire. She doesn’t want to cast dispersions of Alaric Saltzman. She’s never met the man, and it’s possible that he’s telling all the students the same thing. Still, it rubs her the wrong way, and she makes a note to bring it up to Hayley later.

“Fighting is sometimes a part of that. But right now, that’s not something you should have to worry about. You have people to protect you. It’s not all on your shoulders, Hope.”

Hope nods, and Freya hopes that sink in. They did all of this so that Hope could remain a child for a little longer. None of them want to rip that comfort away from her. Instead of pushing the matter, however, she turns her attention back to the mat of spell ingredients in front of them and raises her hands.

“Alright. Are you ready?”

Hope smiles and the nods. Even with all the heavy concerns weighing on her shoulders, magic is always still her favorite. “Ready.”

* * * * *

Fortunately, Freya’s concerns are for naught. Hope picks up the spell beautifully and doesn’t cause any unnecessary havoc on the quarter. Freya will take that as a win for today. As she and Hayley settle in back at the Abattoir for drinks, Hope disappears and reappears from their vision like an endless game of hide and seek. Freya takes a sip of her tequila sunrise, before turning back to Hayley.

“You may want to have a conversation with Alaric Saltzman.”

Hayley turns and blinks at her, confused. “Why would you say that?”

“Something Hope said about him impressing on her how they have to protect each other at school.” Her fingers drum against her glass as she considers her words carefully. “It’s possible that I’m being overprotective. I don’t know Alaric well. I didn’t spend time in Mystic Falls the way my siblings did. But I don’t want him having Hope think that she’s the last line of defense against anything terrible happening at the Salvatore School, either.”

Hayley nods slowly, and it’s clear from the look on her face that Hayley isn’t fond of this either. “I’ll speak to him,” she says with a nod. “Because that is definitely not what I sent her there for.”

“I know.” Freya glances back out to where Hope is playing and sighs. “She has the weight of the world on her shoulders already, and I’m not really sure how to fix it.”

“I don’t know if you can,” Hayley admits. “With the family she has and the things she’s lived through, with what she is—it may be inescapable. It’s not fair.”

Freya reaches over, taking Hayley’s hand in hers and giving it a small squeeze. “We’ll protect her from it for as long as we can. At the end of the day, that’s all we can do.”

Hayley nods and is about to say something else when Hope comes popping into view in front of them, shocking them both to attention. “Can we get beignets tomorrow for breakfast?”

“That’s too much sugar for breakfast,” Hayley replies automatically. Hope pouts and turns her eyes on her aunt, who she knows will indulge her, and Hayley reaches out to take her arm and bring her attention back. “But we’ll see what we can do about getting them for dessert.”

“Okay!” Hope brightens, and Freya laughs as she runs back out to play.

“I take it back. I wouldn’t worry about her too much,” Freya teases. “If beignets are her biggest problem, she’s going to be just fine.”

After deciding to take on Bondicus, Dolls doesn’t think he’s going to make it through to the other side. Somehow he does, and that makes things complicated. He opens his eyes on the other side, somehow stable, somehow alive, and meeting the eyes of one pissed off Wynonna Earp.

“What the actual fuck, Dolls?”

“Did it work?” He needs to know. He needs to know if Bondicus is still a problem or if at least the level of damage he did to himself did the job. Everything else can come after. Wynonna looks at him, exasperated, but she nods.

“Yes, it worked.”

“Good. Then that’s all that matters.”

“That’s what matters?” That, apparently, is not the thing to say. “You could have died. You literally almost died. If Waverly hadn’t … I don’t know what she did, but she did something.”

So that answers that question. Dolls doesn’t like the sound of Waverly saving him when, as far as they know, Waverly’s human. “Is she okay?”

“She was pretty exhausted, but she’ll be fine. Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously.”

“You’re not. Because you could have died, and you don’t seem to give a shit!”

Dolls doesn’t know how to tell her. How to let her know he could still die if his situation doesn’t stabilize. What Waverly did was a stopgap at best. He doesn’t think she’ll take that information any better than she’s taking the current situation. So he falls back on what he knows best:

“It’s my job to protect you.”

“Oh, really?” Wynonna crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Then who takes care of you? Or better yet, who’s going to protect me if you’re gone?”

He does not answer “Doc.” Not since Doc is the one she seems to want in most situations, anyway. He sees the way they look at each other, and the way she doesn’t look at him. He knows how to read the room. Part of him doesn’t understand why she’s this upset, even though he knows Wynonna doesn’t have many people, and he’s one of them.

“I don’t know,” he says, finally. “But it’s my job to take the bullet, Wynonna. So if it comes to you or me, I’m going to do my job.”

Wynonna pulls back before nodding and turning for the door. “Well, your job sucks.” And with that, she’s gone.

Dolls soaks in the silence, knowing that he’s fucked things up probably for the worse. As he leans back to get some more rest, Jeremy slips through the door of the hospital room and gives him a pointed look. “Dude.”

“What? Are you going to yell at me, too?”

“I was going to, after I finished hacking into the hospital database, to hack your bloodwork to make sure it looked normal. Only problem is, your bloodwork actually was normal.”

Dolls frowns as he attempts to follow that line of thought. “Wait, are you saying—”

“I’m saying whatever residual dragon DNA you had in your system is gone. You’re … stable. Honestly, you’re better than stable. You’re human.”

Dolls stares at Jeremy for a moment, not wanting to believe it. It’s been a long time since he’s been human, since he’s tried to be cured. Now … what does he do with that? How does he handle that?

“What the hell did Waverly do?”

“I have no idea. But … you know other people aren’t going to take that for an answer, right?”

Dolls almost wants to ask what he means by that, but not too long after, it clicks. He’s not the last standing member of Black Badge’s experiments. There are probably others out there—ones who would start asking questions if they thought there was a way to get out of their situation. Questions that could lead them straight to Waverly. Dolls couldn’t let that happen.

“I need to get out of here.”

“I agree. What should I tell Wynonna?”

Dolls is quiet as he pushes away the covers and starts unhooking himself from the various hospital devices. “Tell her the truth. Tell her it’s better that I’m away from here so that people don’t start looking too closely.” He pauses as he pulls on the change of clothes Waverly brought for him and then turns back to Jeremy. “Tell her if she needs me, all she has to do is call.”

Jeremy nods, and once Dolls is ready to go, he leans forward and wraps his arms around his friend. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re going to be sending me memes every two minutes.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same.”

Dolls swallows hard and nods, before pulling back with a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Jeremy.”

* * * * *

Jeremy doesn’t tell him to come home for a while. Dolls would argue that there are a lot of moments when he should have—for example, when Wynonna, Doc and Waverly went missing for eighteen months. But Jeremy says that there’s nothing he can do from where he is. They just have to wait it out. No, the time Jeremy asks him to come home is not long after the Earps return to Purgatory, after word gets around that Wynonna killed a Clanton.

“She’s not okay, Dolls. None of us know what to do for her. I think … I think she needs you.”

Dolls doesn’t argue. He packs up his truck and drives across the border, slipping into Purgatory under the cover of night when Black Badge isn’t paying attention. In some ways, being an ordinary man again has its advantages. Any identifying information they had for Xavier Dolls is based on an altered biology. It’s almost as though he’s invisible.

He makes it to the Earp homestead just before sunrise and pads over to the barn door, knocking lightly as he pokes his head inside.

“Hey, Earp. You decent?”

“Never am,” Wynonna fires back. Her words sound slurred, drunk, and as he slips in to find her sprawled on a makeshift bed of hay and assorted farm equipment, he can’t help but wince.

“Rough night?”

“Usually are.” She looks up at him and squints, brushing her hair out of her face. “That really you, Dolls?”

“Who else would it be?”

“Don’t know, considering I didn’t think we were friends anymore.”

“We were always friends, Wynonna,” he says gently, as he gently tries to get her up. “C’mon. We gotta get you inside.”

She shakes her head. “Rachel’s sleeping in my room.”

“Then we’re going to grab a hotel room, because I’m not sleeping in a damn barn.”

She huffs, but doesn’t resist him any further than that. “Fine.” She’s silent for the car ride over, which for Wynonna is usually a cry for help. He waits until they’re on the road before reaching over and nudging her leg gently.

“What’s going on, Earp?”

“Why do you care?”

“I always cared.”

“If you cared, you wouldn’t have taken off like you did. Not after one stupid fight. Not without saying goodbye.”

Dolls is quiet, keeping his eyes on the road as they head towards civilization. “I didn’t leave because of the fight, Wynonna. Didn’t Jeremy tell you?”

“Jeremy told me some crap about wanting to protect us, but Jeremy lies for people he loves. He likes to make them look better than they are.”

“Okay, that is not wrong. But in this case, he was telling the truth.”

“And I had already told you we didn’t need the protection that ends with you gone.”

“You did. But you didn’t have all the information.”

Wynonna pushes up, turning her eyes from the side window to look at him. “And you couldn’t share yourself.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“Why not?”

“Because the second you put me in that hospital, all of my records would have been transmitted to Black Badge for review. In order to make sure that I wasn’t spilling any of their secrets. Only Jeremy didn’t have to hack in and clean anything up because I didn’t have any secrets left to spill.”

Wynonna blinks, confused. They shouldn’t be having this conversation when she’s drunk, but she pushed the issue so he doesn’t have a choice. “Wait, you’re saying—”

“Whatever angel mojo Waverly tapped to keep me from dying? It took away everything else. I’m human, Wynonna.”

Wynonna blinks. “And if the fact that Jeremy didn’t have to alter any records got back to anyone at Black Badge.”

“They would want to know why, and chances are it would only be a few more steps until they were on your sister’s front door. I would not turn Waverly into some kind of Black Badge guinea pig, so—”

“So you left. You could have told me.”

“I thought Jeremy would.”

“That’s bullshit. You could have told me. You could have said goodbye.”

Dolls sits quietly in the driver’s seat before nodding. “You’re right. I could have.”

“You’re a dick.”

“I don’t disagree with that.”

“I really missed you.”

Dolls reaches over and takes her hand as they pull into the parking lot of the motel. He gives it a soft squeeze and nods. “I missed you too.”

Wynonna sighs, letting out some of the anger and letting her head rest against his shoulder. “Are you going to leave again?”

“Not right now. Jeremy says you need me, so I’m here until you don’t anymore. I just have to stay off Black Badge’s radar.”

“Dicks.”

“You still have such a way with words.”

She laughs before closing her eyes. “What if you don’t like me anymore? Will you leave faster?”

Dolls shifts to look at her. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me not like you, Wynonna.”

Her head picks up as she meets his eyes, and he realizes it’s the first time it’s happened since he found her. “I killed someone, Dolls. Not a demon or a revenant. A human. I shot him in the back.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t break her stare, either. He holds her gaze as long as she’ll let him, to let him know that he’s right there with her. “We all make mistakes, Wynonna. Sometimes we make big ones. That doesn’t mean you’re not still a hero.”

Wynonna takes that in and shakes her head. “Doesn’t really feel that way.” Another moment of silence. “But maybe if you stick around, you can convince me.” She pushes out of the car to head to the motel desk before glancing back over her shoulder. “You coming or what?”

“On my way.” He climbs out of the car to follow her in and nods in determination. If he can help her figure out a way to the other side, he’ll stick around for as long as it takes.

Zari knows that, at a certain point, switching back and forth will become untenable. Fancy Zari will eventually have to live her own life, and Flannel Zari will fade into the background, as it should be. There’s a reason she doesn’t exist anymore. But every so often, if the Legends need something techie or they need knowledge from the before times. Nate is gone, Sara and Ava are busy with their daughter. Behrad remembers things, but that’s not necessarily how it happened. It’s mostly a new crew and Gideon isn’t always great at context. Flannel Zari doesn’t really have a reason to be out and about unless it’s an emergency.

Yet, when Fancy Zari throws herself onto her metaphysical couch and hastily reaches for a metaphysical doughnut, she suspects that something is off.

“Everything okay?”

“We need to switch.”

Zari raises an eyebrow. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Not wrong exactly.” She takes another bite of the doughnut and sighs. “Behrad and I just have to go home for Baba’s birthday and I was wondering if you wanted to go instead.”

Zari’s eyes widen and, while immediately she’s torn about the prospect of seeing her parents again, they aren’t her parents. They will not get their memories rebooted like the Legends did. Seeing them again while pretending to be someone else is not necessarily her idea of a good time, as much as she may miss them. So why does Fancy Z want her to take her place?

“Absolutely not.” The knee-jerk reaction flies out of her before she can stop it, and she winces at how harsh it sounds.

“What?!” Zari protests as she sits up. “What do you mean, absolutely not? I thought you’d want to see our parents again.”

“They’re not our parents. They’re yours, and I’d have to pretend to be you the whole time. I can’t pull that off.”

Zari huffs. “I was really hoping you would have my back on this.”

“Why exactly do you not want to go home?”

“Why do I need a reason? I just don’t.”

“Explain it to me.”

Fancy Zari looks frustrated and shakes her head. “No, you won’t understand, ever.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t understand?”

“Are you kidding?”

Zari blinks. “You know I was a full flesh and blood person once upon a time.”

“Yeah, and our parents probably loved you. Responsible, STEM-focused—you were probably the perfect daughter.”

“Uh, I’m going to stop you there.” Zari holds up a finger as she shifts to face Fancy Zari more. “First, the hacking I learned to cope with the martial law occupation I was living in, so not exactly the STEM excellence they’re looking for. Second, Behrad was still the favorite child, by a long shot, and then he died. My version of Mama and Baba were just as disappointed in me. In fact, I would argue more so.”

Zari’s lips purse before she slumps back against the couch. “I always forget that you were living in an ARGUS fever dream.”

“And you—you are a badass entrepreneur. If they’re not proud of you, they should be.”

“I’m sure they are somewhere deep … deep down. But now that John and I are over, I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ Or worse, have her set me up with someone she deems ‘acceptable.’”

“You know, the ARGUS fever dream saved me from that side of our mother.”

“Lucky. The last time Behrad brought one of his ‘professors’ home for dinner, she practically threw me at him.”

“Gross.”

“It was Nate.”

“Oh.” Zari finishes what’s left of her doughnut as she considers how to respond to that. “Well, that would have worked out well for me.”

Fancy Zari laughs before taking a deep breath. “So I really can’t convince you to pinch hit for me tonight?”

“Not unless Nate is pretending to be one of Behrad’s professors again.” She sees a devious look cross her alternate’s face, and she shakes her head. “No, Z. But if you need someone to tell off one of your garbage ex-boyfriends, that I will pretend to be you for.”

“Worth a shot.” Zari gets to her feet, making her way out of the liminal space, and Flannel Zari’s head lifts curiously.

“Have you told her you and John broke up?”

Fancy Zari’s head tips to the side as she turns to face her, looking at her alternate with a curious expression. “No.”

“Has Behrad?”

“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

“If you and John are still together, she can’t judge you for him being a garbage fire.”

Zari makes a pleased noise at that assessment. “That’s rather perfect, actually. I can just say he’s off doing wizard business, which, for all we know, he probably is.” She claps her hands together, delighted. “Thanks, Brainy Z. You’re the best. Kisses!”

Fancy Zari air-blows a few kisses across the way to her before disappearing back into the void. Zari smiles as she leans back on the couch. She sits in the moment's warmth, before tipping her head up to the ceiling with a sigh.

“Say hi to Mama and Baba for me. And that I miss them.”

And maybe, one day, they’ll see each other again.

Lydia forgets how the after of it all feels sometimes.

With fifteen years away from Beacon Hills on her own, no supernatural conflicts causing problems, she almost forgets the calm that comes after an enormous battle. Not a comforting calm, necessarily, but a moment where you can take a breath, assess the damage done, and heal again. They sit in that moment on the lacrosse field, Lydia, Allison and Scott, just soaking in the silence as the dynamic shifts. The return to the mean, at least for a little while.

As it stretches out ahead of them, as the realities of everything sink in. As the rest of the pack retreats to lick their wounds, the three of them sit together, one on each side of Allison, trying to figure out what to do next. How does Allison return to the world after being gone for so long? How do they integrate her into their lives when they’re so far apart? Can they be them again, when so much has changed?

Finally, Allison is the one who speaks first. “Is it over?” Her voice seems so uncertain, but given the way her mind has been messed with in the last few days, Lydia can’t say she blames her. “Is it really over?”

“It’s over.” Scott’s always been better at certainty than Lydia. “When Parrish sets something on fire, they really don’t come back. Though it would have been nice to know about him back when we were dealing with the nogitsune the first time.”

“Seriously.” Lydia shakes her head. Then she blinks. “Was he even in Beacon Hills at that point?”

Allison shakes her head. “I don’t remember him.”

“I don’t know,” Scott replies. “But … at least now it’s gone for good.”

That is a relief, and relaxes some of the tension in the air, but there’s still more questions left to resolve. Lydia knows that Allison’s father wants to know what she’s going to do next as well, but his questions have less pressure attached. No matter where Chris goes, he’s always going to be Allison’s father. He’ll be there to catch her no matter what.

More silence. More processing. Again, Allison asks:

“So, what do we do now?”

“I guess that depends on what you want to do,” Lydia supplies, turning Allison’s attention to her so that she doesn’t see Scott’s puppy eyes. He doesn’t do it on purpose to pressure her. It’s just the way his face falls. But neither of them wants her to slip out of their sight soon, so they’ll have to come up with some kind of compromise.

“Oh, I should not be the one making these decisions,” Allison shakes her head. “I have barely been alive a week and half the time I was brainwashed. I wouldn’t even know what my options are.”

“Okay, fair, let’s … let’s just start with right now.” Because that’s easier than the rest. A collection of much smaller choices that can expand out into other ones. “We should probably head back to your dad’s place. He gave me the keys and said that I was welcome to it because he wouldn’t be there.”

Scott makes a face. Allison frowns. “Where would he be if not his house?”

Lydia smirks, taking Allison’s hand to pull her up before addressing Scott. “Do you want to tell her?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Allison fixes him with a look, and he caves.

“Your dad and my mom kind of got … close. There was a whole thing with ghost riders and … I don’t know, but they’re sort of thing.”

“Huh,” Allison frowns. “Good for them?”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird, but they’ve been really happy, so that’s good.”

“There’s so much I have to catch up on.” They make their way down off the bleachers and towards Lydia’s car. “I don’t even know how to start.”

“We’ll take it one thing at a time,” Lydia reassures. “But first things first. We need to get you some clothes.”

* * * * *

One trip to Target later, they return to the Argent penthouse with enough clothes for Allison to dress like a normal person and any necessary supplies she may need. By the time they arrive, it’s too late to do much else but get ready for bed and make an attempt at sleep. They clean up, and when Lydia and Scott return to the master bedroom draped in pajamas, Allison is still in the shower.

“What are we going to do?” Lydia asks as she perches on the edge of the giant bed and Scott shrugs.

“I don’t think we should have this conversation without her.”

“No, but we need to narrow down the options. Real options.”

Scott nods at that, before exhaling slowly as he considers them. “Of the three of us—being me, you and her dad—I’m the most mobile. I have a job in LA, but I can do that job anywhere. You have your company and Chris has my mom and hunting. I’m the one who’s most able to pick up and move if needed.”

“My company is in San Francisco. Not as far as it could be.”

“Then maybe those should be the two options. San Francisco with you or here with her dad. She doesn’t have to decide right now, but … it’s better than an entire world of choices.”

“What choices?”

Both eyes flicker to the now open bathroom door with Allison toweling off her hair and draped in cozy pajamas. She looks more like herself than she has since they brought her back. She raises an eyebrow at the both of them and Lydia shifts to kick her legs up onto the bed, patting the space next to her. Allison goes willingly, settling into the middle of the bed while Scott fills in on the opposite side.

“We talked to Stiles. He says he’ll work on doing some FBI magic to make you a real girl again. Make it seem like you were in witness protection or something.”

“That’s handy, having someone in the FBI.”

“It is,” Lydia nods. “And then Scott and I thought that maybe the easiest place to start out again is here in Beacon Hills with your father or in San Francisco with me.”

“And me,” Scott pipes up. “But my job in LA is moveable. I can find another shelter to work at. So wherever you want to go, I’ll go.”

“And I’m not needed for the day-to-day, so I can stick around for a while if you decide to stay here.” Allison’s eyes get that slightly glazed over look and Lydia squeezes her hand. “You also don’t have to decide right this second. It’s going to take a while for the paperwork to go through, anyway.”

Allison nods, shifting to take Scott’s hand with her free hand, but resting her head on Lydia’s shoulder. “San Francisco might be nice at first. A place where no one knows who I am or what happened to me. But will Beacon Hills be okay without you guys?”

“Derek and Malia were doing fine before we ruined everything by trying to resurrect you,” Scott sighs. “I think they’ll be able to manage if we leave again for a while.”

“They might even prefer it,” Lydia points out, and Scott laughs.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do you think my dad will be okay with it?”

“I think he’ll want whatever makes you happy. And he will probably be around regardless of where we go.” Chris Argent likely would not take his eyes off his daughter soon.

“Okay.” Allison’s eyes drift closed, and she nods. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Lydia squeezes her hand again, before she and Scott both shift to get comfortable around her.

Allison’s nose wrinkles. “I probably shouldn’t go to bed with wet hair.”

“I’ll fix it for you in the morning,” Lydia promises, before all three of them drift off for a well-earned night’s rest.

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Request plurkCompleted: 31/31Word Count: 45,691

REQUESTS

if this is too many please tell me

10/1 ~ it's not too late, let's go. ~ everyone lives ~ 2,136

10/2 ~ don't worry, i got you. ~ the magicians ~ 906

10/3 ~ okay. show me. (1/2) ~ dctv/lost girl ~ 2,057

10/4 ~ do you even know what this means? ~ riftverse ~ 1,134

10/5 ~ you're the smartest person i know. ~ felderwin ~ 1,303

10/6 ~ i can't wait for you. ~ dctv/marvel cinematic universe ~ 1,203

10/7 ~ do you recognize this? ~ villagers ~ 1,576

10/8 ~ give me that, before anything happens ~ everyone lives ~ 1,848

10/9 ~ i wouldn't do that if i were you. ~ smallville/elektra (movie) ~ 1,385

10/10 ~ it's alright, i'm here now ~ the witcher/tvdverse (witcher au) ~ 1,128

10/11 ~ you lost it. well, we lost it. ~ dctv ~ 997

10/12 ~ i'm not saying i didn't like it. ~ everyone lives ~ 1,118

10/13 ~ come with me, hurry. ~ felderwin ~ 1,405

10/14 ~ if you don't stop now — ~ white collar/csi:ny ~ 1,876

10/15 ~ fine, explain it to me. (2/2) ~ lost girl/dctv ~ 2,581

10/16 ~ do you know a way out of here? ~ marvel cinematic universe/the umbrella academy ~ 1,697

10/17 ~ i never said it would be easy ~ dctv/the umbrella academy ~ 1,228

10/18 ~ we can't do this on our own ~ felderwin ~ 1,757

10/19 ~ what if we're wrong? ~ everyone lives ~ 1,163

10/20 ~ this better be good ~ marvel cinematic universe ~ 1,767

10/21 ~ just in case this doesn't work ~ tvdverse ~ 1,324

10/22 ~ who takes care of you? ~ wynonna earp ~ 1,804

10/23 ~ no, you won't understand, ever ~ dctv ~ 875

10/24 ~ is it over? is it really over? ~ teen wolf ~ 1,331

Request plurk
Completed: 31/31
Word Count: 45,691