#tw: explosions in bar/night club

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

cruel temptations

pairings: sukuna x reader, toji x reader, gojo x reader

tags: love triangle, slowburn, bar!au, bartender sukuna and toji, club owner gojo

a/n: I will probably never make a pt. 2 but I knew I had to post this bit I wrote back in october. Sukuna’s bar is called the Atlantic Domain whereas Satoru’s is Blue Dragon.

synopsis: after a mutual agreement with bartender/owner sukuna, the new bartender whose name you learn is toji, piques your interest. however, that all may change with the arrival of one new guest.

tw: alcohol mentions

“another song?” you rolled your eyes, making your way towards the bar where sukuna stands.

“you know I come here whenever I can.”

“you sure it’s not for me?” a teasing smile plays across his lips.

“nope,” you say, popping the p. “I love the free drinks.”

from the other side of the counter, sukuna reaches for the empty glass to fill your beverage of choice. virgin piña coladas.

“you’re lucky you’re not an alcoholic,” he bickers, sliding the glass towards you before adding a decorative umbrella against the rim. just the way you like it, “or else I would’ve kicked you out already.”

you snort.

“oh please, we both know I bring in clients.”

for the last several weeks, the two of you settled on an agreement. in exchange for karaoke nights sung by you, you would receive a generous amount of free drinks.

you remember the night as if it were yesterday. your friends having brought you to a karaoke bar to sing, encouraging you to flash your ‘talent’ to those around. fast forward to three hours later, the whole bar was packed, and Sukuna was pleased with the numbers.

all thanks to someone's video publication of you in a seemingly ‘aesthetic’ bar.

it was late that night, already in the am when he proposed you come next week, with the chance to try a new drink of his; explosive coladas as he calls them.

and you surprise him next week with your visit. audiences filling the seats at a fast rate. that very night, the bartender proposes you come sing on the weekends. your pay? free drinks.

but as of late, your visits to the Atlantic Domain were gradually becoming frequent. thanks to the new bartender around, whose name you learned from a friend was Toji. you were visiting the bar day and night, including weekdays.

“you may be right,” Sukuna interrupts your thoughts with a harmless frown, “but I don’t want any snot running on my counters.”

“oh come on, you know Adele is a tear-jerker!” you defend.

“yeah? well save ‘m for the showers.”

ever since the arrival of Toji, Sukuna has taken most nights off, working at another location in hopes of opening another bar on the west side of the city.

“you should order something else besides coladas,” your friend, Utahime suggests. standing on the other side of the bar, Mei-Mei shakes a container before skillfully pouring 8 blossom shots in one go. your friend grumbles beside you, saying something about Mei-Mei's hair always looking flawless.

“Toji should be coming from his smoke break,” she informs, taking your orders. “we also have a new guest joining us tonight.”

“who?” Utahime questions.

“gojo satoru, owner of the Blue Dragon, among many other clubs and businesses of course.”

you can’t help but notice the curve of her lip when she brings up the name. it’s no surprise to either of you that anything related to money called for Mei-Mei’s attention, but she wasn’t that shallow; you knew. why him?

“Is there a reason why he’s coming?” you're thankful your friend asks the question lurking in your mind.

“could be business,” Mei-Mei grins, sliding your friend her beverage. “or pleasure.”

“he’d be an idiot to mix business and pleasure.” Utahime sourly spits before drowning her drink.

“a very rich, idiot.” Mei-Mei smiles, turning to you with a twinkle in her eye. “maybe he’ll take a liking to your singing if he stops by.”

“I’m not a show bird,” you quickly reply, “and I’m certainly not here to entertain him. plus, if he were that important, Sukuna would’ve told me.”

failing to hide the smirk across her lips, Mei-Mei rolls her eyes.

“oh you and your loyalty to that man.”

[m-jelly]

This story is inspired by @ladycheesington art here

The hero and his saviour

Pairing: Hero!Levi x Reader

Genre and tags: Romance, fluff, cute, nursing Levi, mentions of blood and injuries, flustered Levi.

Concept: While relaxing in your apartment, the hero of the city comes smashing through your window. You help Levi to bed and take off as much of his armour as you can to tend to him. He tries to leave but is too hurt to go. He contacts his information provider at his base about what is happening and chooses to stay in your care. As you look after the battered hero, you both slowly fall for each other.

City inspired by Gotham City.

TW: Mentions of blood and injuries on Levi, but all get tended to.

Tag list: @levisbrat25 @ladycheesington @skittlelover69 @li-anne @nyxiieluna @strawberrybunny123 @galactict3a @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

You yawned loudly as you walked through your apartment. You ruffled your messy hair as sleepiness clung to you and thoughts of a nap were tempting you. You dragged your slipper-snug feet along the wooden floors.

You flicked the switch on your kettle and let the water boil as you put a teabag in your favourite cup. You yawned again and caught a view of yourself in the mirror by your front door. You had your sloppy jumper on for warmth and baggy soft jogging bottoms. You looked just how you felt, comfy.

You put your perfect tea together and moved across your room to your sitting area. You blew softly on your tea to cool it down. You smiled at the whisps of steam dancing in the air as you blew.

Your eyes flicked up to gaze outside. A shiver ran through you at the sleet coming down, grey clouds and billows of steam coming from busy buildings. The city was a dark place full of gothic touches all over, such as gargoyles on high-rise buildings. Most buildings were dark in colour. The city always seemed to be damp or cold. There were opportunities here, but you had to be street-smart. Countless gangs controlled areas with dangerous leaders.

You were lucky. You had managed to get a job as an information dealer. You'd trade information around and remain a neutral party. You worked from home a lot of the time, but sometimes you were dragged to bars and clubs at night to deal with people directly. You didn't mind your job, it was fun meeting new people, but you met a lot of the city's crazy people.

You felt relaxed as your hot drink soothed you. You felt yourself smiling and ignored your phone ringing. You had told people you were having a day off, so they had been warned about calling you. You closed your eyes and tried to ignored the ringing, but it would not stop.

You slammed your cup down and stormed over to your phone and recognised it. You answered the call and felt irritated. "What do you want, whale?"

He huffed at the nickname the whole city had given him. "It's Mr Reed!"

You rolled your eyes. "Why are you calling me?" You frowned a little when you spied the city's hero moving around. "Everyone knows I have today off. I don't have any gossip for you." You walked closer to your window as you watched the hero fighting. "I'm not helping you. I'm available in a few weeks. Goodbye." You ended the call and stared at the hero. "What in the world?" You jumped at an explosion and the hero came smashing through your window next to you. "Shit!"

Levi groaned and rolled around on the floor. He panted as his tight armour squeezed him. Parts of his armour were broken causing blood to seep out. He crawled backwards on your wooden floor and spied you to his side with cuts on your skin from him breaking through your window. His ears were ringing from the explosion. He saw your lips moving but didn't hear a thing.

He reached out to you. "Ah-un."

You jumped as Levi passed out. "Oh shit!" You ran around a little gathering things up. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" You grabbed Levi and dragged him all the way to the bathroom. You started taking off his armour as he breathed slowly. "Please don't die on me, Legion."

You got him down to the tight bottoms he wore under the suit and began cleaning his first. You gazed at his rippling muscle all over his body. His pecs were plump and big, his abs like little rolls of bread. His neck was thick and biteable to you. His thighs were thick pieces of meat and his bottoms left little to the imagination.

You put on numbing cream and sewed up the biggest wounds. You patched him up before dragging him to your bedroom. You covered him up and huffed a little. You stared at his mask and thought it made no sense to leave it on. You knew Legion was the rich CEO Levi Ackerman because it made sense. You were shocked no one had figured it out yet.

You cleaned up his blood from your floor before patching up your window as best as you could. You made some food and drink you thought Levi would be able to eat when he woke up a little. You knew you were in for a fight when he got to his senses, mainly because he would likely refuse your help.

You jumped at a crashing noise in your bedroom and a stumbling getting closer to your door. You turned to your bedroom door to see Levi leaning in the doorway, his hair a mess as he panted. "Le-Legion!"

Levi gritted his teeth as he gazed over at you, his vision was slightly fuzzy. He grunted in pain. "Where is my armour? Where have you put it? Who do you work for!?"

You hurried over to him and grabbed his upper arms. "I'm a nobody, okay? Now get back to bed."

Levi blinked a few times before shaking his head. He grabbed your upper arms and shook you. "Who do you work for!?" He gazed at you as his vision came back. His cheeks slowly burned as he stared at your cute face. "I...umm..."

You said your name as you pushed him into your bedroom. "I work alone. I sell information, that's it."

Levi had heard your name thrown around a little. You weren't a criminal at all and you were very new to the city and yet everyone knew of you. He sighed a little as he got into bed. "Thanks."

You handed him medication. "I'll get you a drink and some food."

He shifted a little. "Thank you."

You hurried out and heard a deep mumble of his voice as he spoke to his information provider. You picked up his food and drink just as he finished. "That your contact?"

"Yes. They'll send my vehicle in a few days. I've been asked to rest."

You placed the tray on his lap. "And I hope you do."

He smiled a little. "You're a tough one, huh?"

"You have to be in this city." You smiled softly making Levi's heart race. "Eat up, okay? Then get some rest. I'll take care of you until you're ready to leave."

"Thank you." Levi ate your delicious food and slept for a while. He rested for days and only woke up to eat and go to the bathroom. One day he woke to you swearing under your breath. He hobbled to you to see you sitting in the bathroom trying to clean his armour. "You don't have to do that. My armour is pretty fucked. I have another one at the base."

You stared at the armour. "Oh..."

He smiled making your cheeks burn. "Thank you for trying."

"It's okay."

He shuffled into your living room to see your window covered up with a sheet and taped. He shivered at how cold it'd made the room. He glanced to the sofa to see you'd been sleeping there. He felt guilt fill him for making his saviour sleep in a cold room he had damaged.

You walked past and piled his armour in a corner and smiled. "Well, it'll be weird not having you around." You stood up and gasped at how close Levi was to you. "Umm."

"My mask is getting heavy. Maybe I should take it off."

You smiled. "Sure, Mr Ackerman."

Levi stared at you. "You...you know?"

You giggled a little. "Well, you are the only one who could afford this stuff and you look similar. You might wanna get a mask that covers your face more."

He blushed ad rubbed the back of his neck. "Tch, maybe."

You reached up and took his mask off carefully. Everywhere you touched made his skin tingle. You smiled as you pulled it off his face. "There we go."

Levi held your hand a little. "Thank you. You're incredible."

You blushed. "I'm not. I deal with bad people and move information around. I'm not a good person." You smiled a little. "You'll probably want to arrest me."

He shook his head. "I know of you. You're just a hard-working person." He kissed your forehead making you gasp. "I appreciate your kindness. In fact, I might employ you to be my information provider as a thank you, I'll repair your window and I'll pay you better than anyone else."

You gazed up at him. "I'd like that."

He blushed hard. "A-Also, a-a date. A-as Levi Ackerman. I w-want to take you on a-a date."

You hummed a gentle laugh. "I accept."

[writersmorgue]

Day 13 - forced to hurt a loved one

read on ao3

word count: 1351

TWs in tags

note: fuck y'all bakukami for the win

╞╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╡

The sound of a stinger whizzing by sobers Denki up quickly.

“Oi- Dunce face! Go get the civs inside and tell 'em’ to barricade the bathroom!” Bakugo’s shout permeates the chaos around them, reminding him that he not only had his ass to protect but every other patron of the bar they’d been at before shit broke loose. 

You know, because when Denki went out with his crush on a night out he definitely wanted to be attacked by a wasp villain. He actually hoped this would happen.

Gods, why can’t he have a normal weekend? Last week Mina threw up in his hoodie and this week he’s dragging poisoned civilians to the curb by their legs. 

He tries not to think about how they’re basically dead already.

He finds a group of several terrified college-aged students huddled in a corner and ushers them inside. They cry and scream, begging him not to leave. But he has to, so he tells them they’ll be fine, that the police will be there soon. 

After instructing one of them to melt the lock shut with his quirk, Denki returns outside. 

Panicked shouts fill the air, and every few minutes he hears another sickening shriek when someone new is stung. 

“Shit,” He mutters, jogging to another young woman with one embedded in her chest. He yanks it out, ignoring typical impalement protocol in favor of removing the poison. She whines, half delirious already.

“We’re gonna get you home, okay? Play dead for a bit and I’ll send medics to you quickly. Stay awake.” He’s off before she can answer, unwilling to watch her suffer when he needs to keep moving.

He hears explosions in the distance and takes off toward the noise. He stops around the corner from a clearing in the street. Several victims lie motionless, most likely dead.

Wasp is circling Bakugo, dodging the blasts sent their way. Their right elbow is pointed towards the hero, aimed at his head. Kaminari doesn’t dare speak.

“You fucking asshole, naturally you’ve gotta target the one club heroes frequent, huh?” Bakugo smirks, sweat beading on his temple. 

Wasp tilts their head, mask casting an eerie shadow on the street. “Yes, convenient.”

Kaminari steps out of his hiding spot, sighting an opening when Wasp turns their back again, trading spots with Bakugo. 

He holds his arm out, trying to give Bakugo plenty of warning. 

Red eyes meet his for only a millisecond, and Denki knows he understands. 

He toes out of his shoes, trying to make as little sound as possible. 

Wasp moves to the side, forcing Denki to adjust his trajectory. 

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that? Targeting innocent fucking people.” Bakugo spits, rolling his left wrist while the other remains aimed. Fighting without his bracers is obviously taking a toll on him. 

Wasp shrugs, “It is what it is.”

Katsuki huffs, narrowing his eyes at Wasp’s elbow. 

Denki squats lower, reaching his palm out. He just needs to make contact with their blood flow directly and they’ll be out-

He looks up, and is met face-to-face with Wasp’s other elbow. The stinger points directly at Denki’s forehead, the tip of the nine-inch length only a breath away from his skin. 

He swallows, pulling his hand back quickly on reflex.

Bakugo notices. Wasp notices.  

The skin around Wasp’s stinger tightens, and Denki silently prays it’ll go straight into his brain and end his suffering quickly.

“Denki- Shit!” Bakugo curses, reaching out an arm and detonating an explosion in Wasp’s face. 

Denki’s hand makes contact with a leg, and he lets his quirk loose, hoping it’s the villain he just incapacitated and possibly severely disabled. 

Glass shatters nearby, and Denki figures Bakugo must’ve let off another explosion. 

Good, it was the villain. And he still has his brain!!! Win-win.

Raising his hand to wave the smoke out of his face, he stumbles blindly toward Bakugo’s last known location in his mental map.

He trips over some rubble and falls to his knees, conveniently bare in his ripped skinny jeans. Wow, this was inconvenient, if he thinks hard enough he can still feel the buzz he’d brought himself to when the attack began. 

“Ah, fuck.” Bakugo’s voice grunts from his left. He can barely make out his form lying on the ground. 

“Hey man, whatcha laying there for?” Denki teases, hands slapping lightly as he crawls toward his friend. 

“Kaminari.”

Denki stiffens. Sure, Bakugo had just called him Denki, but that was a life-or-death situation. They’re definitely back in ‘Pikachu’ territory now that the threat is neutralized. 

“Ah, Kacchan, you good?” Denki asks, hand meeting a firm leg. 

“Kaminari go find some sharp glass and bring it back here.” There’s an odd waver in his voice as he speaks, foreign paired with his gruff tenor.

“Wh-”

“NOW, Kaminari.” Oh shit it’s panic. Bakugo is panicking and that’s making Denki panic and-

Glass. Glass, right. 

He hurries over to the building next to them, sharp glass littering the ground below an empty hole in the wall. He picks some larger-looking pieces, piles them and crawls back to his friend. 

“Okay, what do you-” He looks up, the smoke finally clearing in their little alcove. 

A stinger is held limply in Bakugo’s right forearm, a deep wound on his right forearm, blazing red fanning out as the poison begins to spread. 

“Gods- Shit Kacchan, what- What do we do!?” Denki’s eyes begin to water like they usually do when he’s overwhelmed. His hands shake as he looks down at the pile of glass shards. 

“It hadn’t been in long, if you cut the poisoned shit out I’ll be fine. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep the arm but, EMS ain’t getting here soon enough.” 

Denki whines, allowing Bakugo to uncurl his fingers and place a piece of glass in his palm. 

He meets glossy red eyes, piercing even in the dim streetlight, “Kacchan I don’t know if I can.” He whispers, feeling tears begin to fall down his own face.

“I know, but I’ll die if you don’t, Denki. C’mon, you’re strong.” He gives a pained smile, “Don’t want the next time you cry to be at my funeral, yeah?”

Denki sobs, raising the glass, “Fuck, you gotta pull out of this one, I’m not gonna let you go.”

Bakugo nods, face scrunching when Denki makes the first incision. 

Blood pours from the cuts, staining the glass and his hand a deep red. He continues, focusing all of his attention on the task and nothing else. He can feel his consciousness drift to a different place, letting instinct take over. 

Katsuki keeps encouraging him, the self-sacrificial idiot. 

He hits the end of the discoloration, cutting just a bit further to be sure. Hot pink flesh stands out against Katsuki’s pale skin. White bone peaks out at the bottom, making Denki want to tear his hair out. 

“Kacchan,” He whispers, letting the glass fall to the ground when he sits back on his ankles, “‘s all gone.”

Bakugo grunts, holding his good hand and blasting a few high-intensity shots at his wound, cauterizing the worst of the bleeding. 

He’ll probably get to keep the arm. It’ll be fine, maybe some nerve damage. 

Denki whimpers, watching Katsuki inspect his new deformity. The one he just carved out of his skin.

Katsuki reaches out, pulling Denki in by his shirt, “Thank you. I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

Denki shakes, nuzzling his face into Katsuki’s neck, “I’m so sorry. Gods I’m so sorry, Kacchan.”

“You saved my fucking life, Sparky, don’t ever fucking apologize, okay? It’s just an arm.”

He nods, sniffing. Sirens blare in the distance.

“Sure took their damn time.” Bakugo scoffs, running his left hand over Denki’s head. 

It’s soothing in a way Denki didn’t know it could be, but he wishes he would do it again.

Maybe if he asks nicely.

“Only been fifteen minutes, Kacchan.” He chuckles, wrapping his fist in Bakugo’s black t-shirt. 

“Yeah,” Bakugo agrees, rubbing circles in Denki’s back while they wait for help to arrive, “whatever.”

[kitkatpancakestack]

This might hit very close to home for some so I’m just gonna put a trigger warning here. Proceed with caution!

P.S this got away from me I’m sorry I don’t know how to keep things short!!

TW: mentions explosion in bar/nightclub

Re: Buck whump: So, Buddie’s journey started with an explosion from the grenade, yes? I just think the whump also being an explosion but that much more dramatic would be a PRETTY COOL CALLBACK. But in this case, it’s not a call. They’ve had those fundraisers at the firehouse like once a year, right? Well, this time all the firehouses band together and have a huge one at one of the dive-bars (is that what they’re called? I’m not American, I don’t know the difference) they like to frequent. It’s very 18+ this time but supposed to be fun, maybe they have a wet t-shirt contest for anyone who wants to join, I don’t know what the cause is, but they have like a huge chunk of LA’s finest firefighters there. Buck and Eddie are off to one side, but they separate because one is grabbing drinks for both of them maybe, and the bar goes boom. Not because someone planted a bomb, but because much like the building Bobby lived in with his family, it just wasn’t up to protocol. Maybe the wiring was off somewhere and it short circuited like with the bridezilla incident or something. Either way, boxes of liquor explode and escalate everything so they can’t find each other in the blaze. Chaos ensues and Eddie almost gets trampled on his quest to find Buck, whom oopsies!!! Was a lil too close to the blast so he’s hit his head and is unconscious and breathing in a lot of smoke. Possibly got blasted so he landed badly and a rib punctured his lung perhaps? Thankfully since the bar is packed with firefighters the chaos subsides quickly but Buck is still missing. Eddie is held back for assessment and has that quiet “I’m losing my mind here” thing like when they were hostages. Bobby senses this and sends in Hen and Chim instead of him and that’s when Eddie loses it because “I should be the one to go in there” and Bobby just goes Full Dad and holds him back until Eddie just kinda collapses on the ground hyperventilating until buck is wheeled out. Only after getting to the hospital and buck is out of surgery does he go to the nearest bathroom to wash off the soot off his face and he’s just silently crying his eyes out, completely frozen with the remaining agony of not knowing if buck was alive or not, imagining a thousand different ways to tell Chris and trying to get used to the idea that Buck would never come home with him again. Hen finds him and when Eddie realises he just tells her and she doesn’t even say anything, just hugs him and leads him out to Bucks room and keeps her hand on his shoulder as he whispers love confessions over and over again while they wait for Buck to wake up. Buck hears a lot of it but he’s on a lot of drugs so he doesn’t remember until much later but when he wakes up he’s kinda in awe that Eddie’s is the first face he sees and just blurts out “oh thank god, I started to think you weren’t gonna find me” and Eddie finally can’t help but smile and goes “I’ll always find you” or something cheesy sweet like that. I’ve had this scenario stuck in my head for weeks and I’m so happy I finally got to share :’) ~ mi

(Please heed TW in the ask!!!!!)

my face after reading THIS

[badgirlcovenrep]

atlas

Alex Chen × Steph Gingrich fluffy comfort one-shot

(I was talking to a friend about the game and we were discussing how Alex is probably still carrying a lot of trauma. And even after everything that happened at the mines we still don't see her really grieve for the whole situation and herself. So- I had to write it, you know?)

Enjoy!

TW: mentions of suicide, death and mental health issues.

It's two months into their relationship now, and they are somewhere in a Californian town, living in a tiny apartment close to the beach. They play together in small venues and underground clubs. Alex bartends and Steph referees for DND campaigns at a nerd bar they found by chance on their first week there.

They're happy. As happy as Alex remembers being since she was- well, maybe nine.

Every day, it's a little like waking up into a dream. Living in an apartment with her first girlfriend, listening to music as they cooked dinner together. Getting to kiss her just because Alex felt like it. Because her heart went a little loopy inside her chest when she smiled. Because she knew Steph would hold on to her waist and make her feel like she was full of electricity.

The 'falling in love' business felt overrated before Steph.

But Being in the middle of it now, Alex doesn't think there's anything better.

Although a part of her still felt quite numb - she guesses it's not something that will go away that easily - and day by day, Alex felt a little bit more like she could breathe... like she was finally letting herself go, at least a little bit.

****

Now that she could comprehend and use her powers, it also seemed as if she'd started to become even more of a magnet for all sorts of emotion around her. And apparently Alex could do it in her sleep too.

The nightmares came in clusters most of the time, a badly cut-together mess of voices and feelings. The lady that lived under them, who lost her son when he was little. The couple from down the street, who were going through a hard time in their relationship. Even the little girl from upstairs, who had terrible night terrors of sharp-teethed monsters reaching from under her bed.

They all mixed inside her head until she woke up gasping for air and sizzling with emotion.

It was rare that she'd have a full dream, one that made sense and completed itself, but when she did they were always about Gabe. About sitting together at the rooftop of the Lantern and sharing a beer. Or climbing trees, like they used to do when they were little.

It was a relief from the usual doom.

And that dream was supposed to be nothing different. Or at least she thought it wasn't.

****

In it, they were at the ravine. A world of twinkling stars shining above their heads. The Colorado mountains all around them creating a landscape that was just as beautiful as it was bittersweet. Alex could see the log she'd crossed, still standing between her and the tiny outcrop of stone Ethan had been stranded on.

She hadn't dreamed of the ravine since leaving Haven Springs, but while she was there, Alex dreamt of it every night. She would see it when her eyes were closed. She could hear it, - the sirens, the terrible, deafening rumble of the ground splitting beneath them. The panic, pounding into her ears.

But this is different. Because when she looks around, Alex realizes she's standing over the elevated plateau, tied to the waist and leaning all her weight against a sturdy piece of rock.

Looking at her from below is Gabe. Lying on the cold ground. A cheesy smile spread across his face.

"Why are we switched?" Alex asks because that's all she can think of asking, as she stares at the rope that anchored her to the ground... to Gabe.

"Beats me. This is all your brain, not mine." He says, and Alex huffs in annoyance, "you know what's going to happen, but you keep coming here."

"I don't have a choice."

"Hmmm..." Gabe hums, but there's some humor in his expression as he stares intently back at her, "and that's exactly why... I'm here because I should say goodbye."

A coldness spreads over Alex's limbs. Around her, the very fabric of the dream dims into darkness as a strong breeze blows past them. She suddenly feels like throwing up.

"What- what does that mean?" It's a stupid question. This is her dream. Alex knows what it means.

Deep down, she knew she'd been conjuring him up for her own sake. Trying to bring back any morsel of relief into the giant hole he'd left inside her heart. However, Alex also knew at some point he'd be gone- she just didn't expect-

"You don't need me anymore, Alex." He says. As if it's that simple. As if she'd ever-

"I'll always need you, Gabe. Of course I need you." The words stumble out of her mouth, and she can feel the hot, angry tears falling down her face.

It feels like a hot iron pressed to the very top of her chest.

Like lava, boiling up into her bloodstream until Alex wants to punch something. The steam that prickles from under her skin, fighting to break free.

Anger always comes first when people feel cornered. It's something she noticed a while back. Out of all the emotions Alex had dealt with the past few months, that, at least, hadn't changed.

"Shit, Gabe. When you died I needed you more than ever."

"But we can't fix that, can we?" He asks, and another wave of anger rips through her. She looks anywhere but him, because Alex feels that if she does, she'll tackle and kill him all over again. But when he says nothing and they're left in the same pocket of silence - the one right before the whole world collapsed - her eyes eventually fall back to her brother. Tied to her and laid on the ground beneath. Looking at her like just as much the goofy asshole she missed so much.

Anger always felt urgent and fast, like a flash going through her body and leaving everything inside it in disarray. It demanded to be completely felt, but only for the moment it took for Alex to decide it wasn't worth launching the nearest object at a window.

Or trying to kill her dead brother.

"You might have needed Gabe. But you don't need this Gabe anymore, Alex. You can do it on your own now."

The fear and sadness that came after? They were usually much, much worse.

"But this is the only Gabe I have."

Those emotions, when mixed, turned into a horrible harmony that paralyzed her lungs and darkened the sides of her vision. They felt just as urgent as anger, but complacent. A beast staring at her from the very bottom of a pit. Tied to her by the waist and trying to lure her down into the abyss.

And, for Alex, the abyss was as deep as a ventilation shaft for a Colorado mining site.

"No, it's not. You'll always have me, Alex. And you know that." Not in the way that matters. Alex wants to say, but it's so redundant. He's the ghost. He should already know that. "And you have Ryan now, and Eleanor, Riley, Charlotte, Ethan... Steph..." he gives her a cheesy smile in the last name, wiggling his eyebrows back at her teasingly.

"Oh, God, way to ruin the moment." Alex can't help but chuckle a little through her tears. Is she blushing? You can't blame her for blushing, right? God, she feels like Diane.

"Hey. Let me have it. One of my only regrets is that I never got to tease the hell out of Steph for dating my little sister... and for being whipped as hell."

"That would have been so funny."

"I knew she'd get along with you but I guess I didn't expect... that. Shame on me. Should've had more artistic vision."

Alex chuckles as more tears run down her face. It's so bittersweet it hurts from the very inside of herself.

"All jokes aside. I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. She's good. Just make sure you tell her I'll haunt her from the grave if her dumb ass breaks your heart, okay?" Alex nods, and her body starts shaking with strangled sobs. So much emotion she just can't let go of. Because if she does, Alex is afraid there'll be nothing left.

"Hey. Don't cry. You can do this, Alex. You know how to live life now."

"I don't want to lose you again, Gabe."

"You'll never lose me. You'll just have to look a little harder." He smiles up at her, pulling jokingly on the rope, "now play your part - or is it my part? You get it."

And then- too soon. (Same as it was that night.) The sirens blast through the mountains, and somewhere above them, a giant explosion blows her eardrums, and boulders the size of cars come tumbling down the mountain.

She barely has time to blink. Barely has time to breathe one last time. Seen as she's Gabe, when she looks up all she sees is the giant rock, flying towards her, hitting her across the torso so hard, before she knows, she's flying way above the ravine, and one last glimpse of the stars catches hold over the veil of her memory before everything turns black.

****

She wakes up in bed, desperately clawing at the top of her chest as she gasps for air. Her lungs feel like they're made of lead, and all around her, she can feel the weight of the rocks, the explosion, the debris, weighing down her body.

Alex pats across the mattress for Steph, who is not there. Another wave of panic washes over her. So strong her mouth turns dry and her head aches as she tries to breathe in, but her lungs can only handle tiny, torturous gasps of half-breath.

Alex dispels a world of curses towards herself inside. Willing her own body to just calm down. In the bathroom, she can hear Steph singing softly to herself- she must have come home late from the DND tournament. Alex told her she'd swing by, but she'd had a long shift and ended up just passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Alex hadn't had an incident like this in very long. She could control it now. Most times. It wasn't easy, with being on the road and constantly surrounded by people. Sometimes, she still got more than she could bargain. When she walked across a depressed person on the sidewalk, or heard one of their multiple neighbors yelling at each other through the walls, and suddenly she felt as if the world blended out of focus into a tsunami of feeling.

Feeling that wasn't hers but still felt so much like it was.

Steph helped whenever it happened. For a sarcastic punk rock mess, she was surprisingly stable and so very reassuring.

Just the fact that she can hear her voice. That Steph is there in the apartment with her, is enough to calm some of her nerves, and while Alex still can't keep herself from pulling in gasps of air as she tries to hold in any kind of oxygen, she at least has a plan.

Water. Water will make her feel better, right?

Almost as soon as the idea crosses her mind, Alex's half-delirious brain commands her to get up, but her body feels so very heavy. Like she's really been trampled over by a wave of giant boulders. And as soon as her feet touch the ground, her legs give up under the weight, and she falls onto the hard floor with a loud, heavy thud.

The girl's hands fly up to hold her weight against the bed, and thankfully that means she doesn't face plant the ground, but it sends her heart into a neck-breaking pace, and all air Alex'd been able to gather so far escapes her in a single huff until she's hyperventilating again, hot, angry tears running down her face.

You're so weak. You're such a fucking idiot. Of course, you had to go and lose Gabe twice, who the fuck would want to stay with such a mess-

"Alex, are you okay?" Steph's voice comes, as she opens the door to find her girlfriend sitting on the ground, looking like she might pass out from just trying to get her lungs to work, "Alex!"

In a second she's crossed their room and kneeled by her, both hands going up to her cheeks on instinct, smearing away her tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? We've done this before, you can do it." She always gets just a tiny bit of a scared aura around her when Alex gets like this, never for long enough that she can read it, but it's still there, the tiny flutter of fear, "come on, breathe."

Her eyes go up to find Steph's, her strong, glittering green gaze. Alex might be the one with superpowers, but it was Steph who could so easily reach in and soften her edges like it was nothing. It was Steph who could just lean in and hold Alex's hand against her chest, letting her feel the determined rise of her lungs. Strong. Stable. Even Alex couldn't possibly understand how she did that.

How she always made Alex's breathing slowly come to shaky, deep breaths, crawling painfully out of her dry throat, but still better than gasping like a fish. Inside her, Alex feels the furious hurricane of emotion, twisting itself into the bottom of her lungs, taking hold of every bit of her until she felt like she could throw up.

"Wait here, I'll get you water," Steph says, and Alex wants to complain, she doesn't want to be alone, even for a second.

But before she can, Steph has left their bedroom for the kitchen, and Alex feels as if she's stable enough to crawl into bed, so she does so at a glacial pace. She grabs Shu-Shu, holding her close to her chest as she sits and waits for Steph.

She eventually comes back in with a glass full and Alex gulps it down in silence, unsure if whatever dam of emotion that has taken place inside of her will break if she tries to speak. So she sets the glass back and lies her head down on the pillow, facing away from Steph and the rest of the room as she tries to reel herself back in.

She can hear Steph taking off her boots and climbing into bed, one arm winding around her waist as she pulls Alex in closer.

"Was it the lady from upstairs?" Steph asks, eventually, after they sit in a few long minutes of silence.

"No." She replies, and it comes out so strangled, so broken, a few more tears run down her face. Steph pulls her even closer, a tight, steady pressure.

"The couple again? I swear to God I'll call the police on that asshole this time."

"No." Alex says, and she detaches herself from Steph just enough so she can turn around and look at her, "I had a dream about Gabe." Simply saying his name makes her whole body shake. Steph is looking at her so intensely, Alex has to close her eyes, holding on to the fabric of her shirt with all she had not to explode in whatever terrifying, dizzying bomb of emotion she could feel brewing inside herself.

Alex felt so much from other people it overwhelmed her multiple times a day, and even then, it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how much sheer strength it took from her not to let it blow.

It scared her. More than anything.

"He wanted to say goodbye." She says eventually, "it was- I don't know. This- I- this isn't coming from anyone- How do I get rid of it? It's like it's all inside of me and it's taking up so much space and I don't know how to fix it" The words come tumbling out before she can stop them, and she's rambling through tears.

Steph sighs. And Alex can feel the love and sadness mixed together, blowing from her in waves as she holds Alex's chin, bringing her up so they can look at each other.

"Baby..." there are tears in her eyes now, as she pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching, and they are so close Alex can smell her lemongrass shampoo, "This is all yours."

And such simple words shouldn't hit her this fucking hard.

But it all suddenly makes so much sense-

Alex was numb after her dad left. She felt nothing for months. It was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, a deep and powerful depression that threatened to overtake her at any given point.

Like her whole body was nothing but dead weight and her brain was way too tired to even try and keep up.

Young as she was, Alex guesses she never realized the first time she felt anything at all after that was when she discovered her powers. The day a boy came to the orphanage and he was so angry it blew her across the hallway. Ever since then, everything around her was a cacophony of feeling. Coming from every direction. Every street corner, every store, every park.

Every moment of her life since she was eleven, Alex could only feel for others.

"I- I forgot." She realizes, half surprise and half so much sadness another sob breaks through her throat.

Now it made sense, the anger, the sadness, the fear, a hurricane of emotion so very powerful it made her ears ring.

"I'm scared." She admits. Because for someone who had been so focused on learning how to exist among other people's feelings, Alex had no clue how to handle herself, "what do I do with all of this? How do I fix it?"

"Alex. Look at me." Steph brings her face upwards until they are so close, Alex can see the speckles of blue in her eyes, "Gabe died just four months ago, and you were there to see everything- then you got shot and thrown down God knows how many stories into a dark abyss that you somehow walked out of, but not before also finding out about your dad's tragic death - and I haven't seen you cry, actually cry, for yourself, even once."

"I- I can't, it's too much. I don't know how, Steph." Alex had learned her lesson. She'd seen her life as it was and survived it. Deep down she knew it wasn't her responsibility anymore - that it never was her responsibility, to begin with - to hold herself together for others. She knows.

But old habits die hard, and Alex guesses it'll take a while before she starts feeling it too.

Because right now, it still felt like the world might collapse if she wasn't there to hold it together.

"Just- give it to me. Everything you have, I can carry it for you." Steph says, with such determination, Alex actually believes her, but she takes her eyes away, trying to avoid the bubbling of tears threatening to jump out through her throat "Let it go, please, Alex. I can't watch you carry it alone anymore."

At that moment, Alex glances at her again, and there's so much pain, so much love in her eyes, that inside Alex, the dam finally breaks and she's choking on sobs. Tears start running down her cheeks as Steph leans in and pulls her closer, one arm around her shoulder and one on her hip, squeezing tight in reassurance.

If she didn't know better, Alex would've guessed Steph was the one with the superpowers, with the way she coaxes wave after wave of emotion out of her with nothing but her steady presence and quick, light kisses she leaves on Alex's head and hair as she holds on to her shirt for dear life.

It overwhelmed her more than anything she'd experienced so far, and for what feels like hours, she just sobs as Steph holds her.

She cries for her mom. Dead before her time, trying to hold them together to the very end. She cries for her dad, dying a slow death deep underground, a picture of the two children he'd never see again dangling around his neck. She cries for Gabe, for the time they'd never have, for the time they did have.

Above all, for the first time, Alex cried for herself. For being the last out of all of them. For the little girl that had to love and lose every single one of them in succession.

And in the middle of all of it, like a speckle of golden light hidden under all the darkness, for the first time, she feels that it could all start to feel alright.

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - part 7

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

This might be a rough one for some people.

TW: assault

7

We went back to TM. Phil drove my car there for me, with me in the passenger seat. I was too shaky to ride with Jax.

We were met in the lot by an angry looking Clay. “What happened, Jax?”, he growled. I went to sit by a picnic-table, outside the clubhouse. Jax lit a cigarette; and looked Clay straight in the eyes. “Truce with The Nords is over”, he declared. Clay snarled. “Goddammit, Jax!”.

Jax didn’t flinch. “If it was mom…”, he said. “This peace was bullshit, Clay. You know it”. “You had your revenge on Darby’s guy”, Clay snarled. “We only took half of Ollie’s dick”, Chibs said. “He’s still got an angry inch flopping around down there”.

Clay wasn’t appeased. “I already got that ATF bitch up my ass; I don’t need you complicating our situation more – starting some blood feud with the skinhead army!”. “Stahl has nothing on us, man”, Jax said. “We’re clear of that shit… Did you call Unser?”. Clay looked towards me. “Yeah. He’s taking care of it”. Jax nodded. “Thanks…”.

He stepped over to me, and took my hand; leading me into the clubhouse. “Lockdown is back on again. You don’t leave the compound for anything, except extreme emergencies; and someone always has an eye on you”. I frowned. “Can I pee in private?”, I grumbled. He sighed. “This isn’t something to joke about”, he grumbled. “Clay’s right. Going at Darcy like that – threatening his business… I might have kicked a hornet’s nest. Put that on top of your psycho ex…”.

I let out a deep breath. Jax stroked my cheek. “You’ll be fine, darlin’”, he said. “Will you though?”, I said. He smirked. “I always am”, he said. “I have to run. I have a meth-lab to burn down”. I groaned. “Ok. I’ll just wait here… with the armed bikers, and the alcohol”. “You’ll have a blast”, he smiled; and kissed me softly.

He walked towards the door. “Jax…”, I called after him. “Yeah?”. “If you die, I’ll kick your ass”. “Yes ma’am”, he smiled; and left.

---

Bobby was babysitting me; looking like the father of a teenager who’s threatened to run away. I went to look through my stuff in one of the back rooms; and he followed me – standing in the doorway as I rummaged through a box. “The window is too small for me to get through; Bobby”. I gestured at the tiny window under the ceiling. “Just due diligence, sweetheart”. “Jax thinks I’ll make a run for it?”, I chuckled. “Will you?”, Bobby muttered.

I turned around and looked at him incredulously. “You don’t like me…”, I said. He shook his head. “I have nothing against you, Cat”, he said. “I’m just worried about Jax”. I clenched my jaw. “You think I’ll hurt him?”. “Not on purpose; you don’t have it in you”, he said. “But when you realize this life isn’t as sweet as it looks – when you break – so will he. He doesn’t want to see you hurt”. I sighed. “I won’t break. Shit, I’ve been here 3 weeks; and I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in my life”. Bobby nodded. “And that violence you saw the other night?”. I looked him square in the face. “You want to know what happened, after I saw Jax torture a man for me?”, I sneered. “I went home. I had sex with my old man; and spent the next day caring for his son… I didn’t run”.

Bobby let out a breath. “All right. I’m sorry”. I swallowed. “I get it. You’re protective of your friend. You love him… but so do I”. The biker smiled. “That’s all I wanted to hear”, he said. “Come on. I made banana-bread”.

I stepped towards the door to join him. He put a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth; I do like you, puddin’. You’re might be just what this club needs”. “What’s that?”, I asked. “A good person; and a hell of a gogo-dancer”, he smiled. “Burlesque…”, I frowned. “Burlesque. Whatever”, he muttered. “Let’s go. Banana-bread”.

A little while later we were chewing on the baked deliciousness Bobby had created. “How come you’re all such good cooks; and you still want your old ladies to do all the housework?”, I asked, wiping my face with a napkin. “We’re not all tied down in domesticated bliss”, he chuckled. “We gotta live on something”. “Baked goods and whiskey?”, I smirked. “Covers most of our nutritional needs”, he said; and pulled out a joint from his cut-pocket. “This takes care of the vegetables”. He lit the blunt. “I believe you”, I laughed.

“Shit; I forgot…”, Bobby said. “Rat dropped off your purse this morning”. He got my bag from behind the bar, and gave it to me. I got my phone from inside it. Lyla had dropped a few messages; and there were four unanswered calls. I checked my voicemail.

Sunday, 11 am. “Miss Rose; this is special agent June Stahl from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives. I’d like to talk to you about your association with Jackson Teller. I believe you might have some important information; that’s critical to an ongoing investigation. Please give me a call back”.

Stahl… The ATF agent. This wasn’t good.

Thuesday, 1.15 pm. “Miss Rose. This is agent Stahl again. Please give me a call back. It’s critical that we speak. I’m worried you might be in danger. I can help you.

Bobby looked at my frowning face. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. I shook my head, and listened to the next message.

Wednesday, 3.30 pm. “Catherine; it’s June Stahl. I’m worried you’re ignoring my calls at this point. You are with a group of very bad men. You have to get out of there. I have received information you’ll want to hear; from one of your old friends. He’s worried about you; Cathy. The Sons of Anarchy are going down. Get out; leave town. Joshua Kohn has promised me he’ll make sure you make it back to Chicago safe. We know about you attack. It’s only going to get worse from here on out. Jackson is going to jail. Don’t be there when that happens. They’ll put it on you…”. 

I felt sick. Bobby frowned at me. “Cat; talk to me”. “Where is Jax?”, I said with a choked voice. “On his way up to Darby’s cookery”, Bobby said. “Why?”. I breathed shakily. “Something’s wrong”.

I listened to the last message.

Thursday, 1.46 pm. A little over an hour ago. “Kitty. It’s me. I’m very sorry it had to come to this for you. I understand you had a visit at your motel. I didn’t want to do that, my love… but I had to. (sigh) Honey; I’m coming to get you. I know where you are. Be outside the compound at 3 pm. We’ll get out of this town together… Look; I know we have issues, kitty-girl; but we’ll work through them. I forgive you… I do… Be outside when I said. Don’t tell anyone where you are going. I don’t want to do this to you; but if you’re not there… I know where the Teller is. I’ll call Stahl and give her the address. They have SWAT standing by. Teller’s is either ending up in an orange suit, or a body-bag. You can stop that. I love you, my Catherine. See you soon”.

I put my phone into my purse. The gun Jax had given me; was still in there. I picked up the small bag. “I have to go to the bathroom”, I muttered. “Sweetheart?”, Bobby said. “Just… to much banana-bread”. I tried to smile.

I stood up; and walked down the hall. My body was shaking. I love you Jax. I’m sorry…

I closed the door to the bathroom, and locked it. I had to go. Jax would never go down without a fight. He’d die today, if I didn’t leave with Joshua. I would never see Jackson again. I would never see Abel – but if I didn’t leave; he’d never see his father again, either. Jax became someone else for me; turned of his humanity to protect me. It was my turn to repay the favor.

Bobby knocked at the door. “Cat?”, he called. “Are you ok? ‘You gluten allergic?”. “I’m fine?”, I squeaked. “Just need a minute”. “You sure?”. I thought fast. “Shark week”, I said. There was a pause. “Ok… I’m gonna go away now…”. I heard him walk off.

I looked up at the small window above the toilet. I could make it. I just needed to be quiet.

Carefully opening the window, I climbed through it; and landed on a dumpster by the side of the clubhouse. The loud bump from my landing made me gasp; and I looked towards the auto shop; worried someone would have heard me. My cheeks where burning, but otherwise I felt cold all over.

Rat was standing by the tow-truck; parked just a few yards away. “What are you doing?”, he asked. “Dance practice”, I said. “I have to go”. “Why did you climb out of the window?”, he frowned. “Cardio”, I muttered. I needed to deescalate the situation. “Do you… have a cigarette?”, I asked smilingly. “Shit, yeah”, Rat smiled, and handed me a smoke; lighting it for me. “Look, could you tell Jax… tell him I’m sorry…”, I said. “For running off”. “For dance class?”, Rat said. “Yeah”, I smiled. “Tell him I love him”.

Calmly as I could; I walked towards the large opened gate – leaving behind my second home; my love – and the life I had thought was mine. All I had to remind me; was the blue, plaid flannel shirt I was wearing.

---

The street outside was quiet. People we’re going home to prepare dinner for their families; live their lives. I walked down the street, my breath hitching; and tears welling up in my eyes.

A dark escalade pulled up next to me; and the window by the passenger-seat opened. I looked inside.

“Hello, kitty…”. Josh was smiling warmly at me. “Get in, honey. We have quite a drive”.

He opened the door for me; and I got into the seat. “Buckle up, my love. And put out that cigarette. I hate it when you smoke; you know that”, Josh said brightly. “I brought road snacks!”. He handed me a bag of peanuts. “There’s water in the back seat”. I looked behind me; and saw a cooler standing next to a shotgun. “Josh…”, I croaked. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s just for our protection. Are you armed?” “My purse”, I said. “Gun”. “Thank you for your honesty. Throw it into the back”. I did as I was told. “See; we’re already building trust”. “Yes”, I croaked.

We drove for a while; passing the sign at the town border. The name says it all. “Not so charming, huh?”, Joshua chuckled. I took a gasping breath; and he grabbed my shaking hand. “Hey… You’re ok now. I’m taking you away from here. You don’t ever have to come back”. “Where are you taking me?”, I asked. “Home”, Josh smiled; returning his hand to the wheel. “Our future”. “You… came all the way here for me”, I said. He nodded. “Arrived shortly after you”, he said. His jaw clenched. “I would have come for you sooner; but I knew you needed some space. Kept my distance”. I looked at the passing road-signs. We were going east. “So… you called my job. Sent those papers…”, I muttered. “That wasn’t the right place for you. You know it”, he said. “You were getting in too deep – too fast”.

I let out a deep breath. “You’ve been watching”. His face twitched. “I had to make sure you were safe”, he almost growled. “I understand that you needed to let loose for a bit… sow your wild oats; before you finally settled down… but him…”. I swallowed bile. “He’s not… you don’t have to worry about him”.

Josh slammed his hands into the wheel; and the car swerved; making me yelp. “I saw you two that night! His hands all over you. Where’s your sense of respect for what we have?”. “I’m sorry, Josh”, I whimpered. He looked at me with wide eyes, and sighed. “I know, Catherine… but you can’t do that anymore. I’m not going to let you destroy my love for you; it won’t work”. “I understand”, I whispered. “Do you? Really?”, he asked. “Yes…”, I said. “But… I need to know. Did you tell that agent…”. “Where biker boy is?”, he snarled. “No. I don’t like what he does; who he is… but it’s not his fault that you made some bad decisions”.

Jax was safe. I couldn’t help but smile through my tears. “Does that make you happy?”, Josh said; almost daring me. “I can still call her”. “I’m… just happy that I didn’t ruin anymore lives”, I said. Joshua’s face softened. “You are a good person, honey. Deep down. You just needed to be reminded where you belong. And with whom”. “With you”, I muttered. He took my hand again. “With me”.

His hand was clammy. It made me sick to my stomach to have him touch me; but I didn’t pull my hand away. I have to save you, Jax.

We drove for about an hour. Josh kept talking to me; telling me about how he’d redecorated his apartment so it would fit us both. “I had them put new wallpaper in the bedroom. Pink roses. Your favorite”. “I’m… happy”, I smiled as genuinely as I could. I hated pink roses. I would always hate pink roses. “Josh; I have to pee… can we pull over?”. He shook his head. “I rented a motel room about 30 minutes away”, he said. “Hold it”. “Why?”, I asked. “Stop asking questions”, he snarled. “I-I’m sorry, Josh”, I stammered. “I was just wondering why you got us a room… I didn’t mean to question you”. He paused for a second before answering. “We need a fresh start, honey”, he said. “A romantic night together is just what we the doctor prescribed”. I swallowed bile again.

Josh pulled up at a small roadside motel. The rooms were individual cabins. “Privacy”, he smirked at me. I tried to smile back; hiding my tears. “Perfect”, I whispered. “No, you’re perfect”, Josh breathed; and leant towards me. I closed my eyes; and he put his lips on mine. They were cold and clammy; like his hand.

He got out of the car; opened my door; and led me to the door of one of the small cabins. He locked the it behind us.

The inside of the room was faux rustic – from the plastic antlers on the wall, to the Walmart patchwork on the bed. Josh was smiling gleefully. “Oh yeah. Look at this!”, he said; and popped a quarter into a slot on the wall by the bed. “Lay down”. I hesitated. “Honey, don’t worry. We’ll take it slow”, he said, and put his hands on my waist, backing me against the bed. His lips were on mine again; and I exhaled through my nose. “Lay down”.

I sat myself on the bed; before laying my head against the pillow. Josh pushed a button next to my bed. It began vibrating. “A nice massage, for my kitty”, Josh smirked. “You like that, don’t you?”.

He began crawling over my body. “I missed you so much”, he breathed against my neck; and put his lips to my skin. “Please, Josh…”, I whimpered. “I can’t…”. He looked at me with scrunched eyebrows. “Honey… I just love you so much. I want you to feel good…”. He put his hand on my breast. “Don’t…”. I began sobbing; and tried pushing him away.

Josh sat up; straddling me. I tried to sit up myself; pulling myself backwards to create distance between us. “This isn’t our first time. Just relax and let me love you again”. I shook my head. “We didn’t… make love”, I said; anger in my voice. Joshua’s face became enraged. “We made love!”, he yelled at me. “We had sex. That’s it”, I said. “That’s all it was to you?”, he growled. “You whore!”. He backhanded me across the face; and I felt my ears pop from the blow.

“And him? Teller? You made love to him?”, he growled. “I gave you a year and a half of my life. He’s known you – what – a month?”. “We weren’t together that long, Josh. You just never accepted that”. Josh smirked at me. “Once we’re done here; I’m going to go back to Charming, and burn down that clubhouse… kill that homewrecker”.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed him off me as hard as I could; and sprang for the door. Josh was on me; and grabbed the back of my head; slamming it against the wall. I fell to the floor; feeling blood coming from my nose. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”, he roared. “Please”, I whimpered. “I want to go home…”. Josh grabbed my arm; and pulled me up. “We’re going home tomorrow”, he snarled. “Tonight; you show me that you still love me!”.

He tore at the buttons on the flannel I was wearing – struggling me for dominance. I grabbed at his face; dipping my nails into the skin; and leaving marks down his cheek. “Bitch!”, he yelped; and kneed me in the gut. His arms went around me; and I grabbed his hair – pulling it hard; and biting into his neck. Josh roared, and let me go.

I ran towards the door; and unlocked it; running outside – screaming for help. I saw an elderly man in the cabin next door, look at me through the blinds, and close them quickly. I ran to the car; and ripped the door open; grabbing my purse.

Josh had followed me outside; and kicked my leg; making me fall to the ground. I managed to keep a tight hold of my bag; when Joshua grabbed the shotgun and cocked it – aiming at me. “Get back inside, Catherine”. I stood back up slowly, tears running down my cheeks. “Inside”, he repeated.

I limped back into the cabin. Josh closed the door. “Put down the purse”. I obliged; his shotgun poking my back. “Turn around. Slowly”. I turned around and met his face. It was calm – and cold. “Good. Now take of your clothes”. I sobbed, and shook my head. “No… please”, I cried. “Take of the goddamn shirt, you dirty whore!”. I shrugged off the shirt; making it land on the floor. Jax… “Now the top… slowly. Make it worth it”. I took a deep breath, and pulled the hem of my t-shirt over my head.

Josh looked me over. “Still so beautiful”, he breathed. “Now the pants…”. He began removing his own shirt with one hand. I had a metallic, bitter taste in my mouth. “Do it!”, he screamed. With shaking hands; I unbuttoned my jeans.

I looked down at the floor, where my purse was laying; slightly open. “M-my boots”, I stammered. Josh nodded. “Take them off”, he said.

I bent down; and removed one boot; making it look like I was about to take of the other. With a quick glance up at Josh; I then threw myself at my bag; grabbing the gun inside. Josh’s shotgun went off; and I felt a soaring pain on my arm. He’d missed me; but a few buckshot’s had grazed my upper arm.

I hear a roar of engines outside. Josh turned around; and I ran at him; pushing him in the back. He toppled over, and the shotgun slid under the bed. I pointed my gun at Josh. “The safety’s on”, he snarled. I flicked my thumb. “No it’s not”, I growled; and pulled the hammer.

Josh threw himself at me; making me fall to the floor. My gun went off; shooting a hole in the ceiling.

“Cat!”. It was Jax’s voice; coming from outside. “Jax!”, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Josh punched me in the face; and put his hands around my neck; beginning to choke me.

The door was kicked open; and Jackson was in the room. With a roar; he dragged Joshua off me; throwing him against the wall; and slamming his fist into the monster’s face. Opie and Chibs ran through the door; and grabbed Josh – pinning him to the floor. Chibs locked Joshuas arms behind his back; and Opie put his foot on his neck – making it impossible for him to move.

Jax rushed over to me; and lifted me into a seated position. “Baby!”, he croaked; his face anguished. “He…”, I couldn’t finish my sentence, but began sobbing. He put his hand on my cheek; looking at the bruising Josh’s beating had caused. I tugged at his cut; and wept into his chest; leaving a bloody trail on his white t-shirt. Jackson held me close, and stroked my hair. “I’m here, baby. It’s over”.

“You slut!”, Josh growled. “You’ve probably spread your legs for all of these scumbags!”. Opie moved his foot from Josh’s neck; and kicked him in the gut; making him let out a croaking sound.

Jax tensed up. He took the flannel from the floor; and draped it over me; before standing up and walking over to repeat Opie’s action.

“Let him go”, he snarled. Chibs stepped back; and Josh stumbled onto his legs. “You’re gonna die”, Jax growled; and attacked Joshua; throwing him at the wall; and punching his chest and face. Joshua fought back best he could; but he was no match for the beast that was a rageful Jackson. My old man was a wild animal; slamming his fists into Josh’s body, every opening he could find. In the end; Joshua was on the floor again; gagging for breath.

Opie went over to me; and helped me put on the shirt. “Come on”, he muttered; and got me on my feet. “He has to die…”, I hiccupped through my tears. “He’ll come back”.

Jax turned to look at me. I held out my gun to him; and he furrowed his brow. I limped over to him; putting the gun in his hand. “Kitty…”, Josh croaked. “You worthless cunt…”. I spat in his face. “Get her out of here”, Jax muttered. Opie supported my weight; and we went outside; leaving Jax and Chibs with my assailant.

I heard a loud pop; and my legs gave in. Opie held me upright; and I sobbed against his shoulder. “Shh, Cat. It’s over”, he whispered; and stroked my hair.

Suddenly; we heard sirens in the distance. “Shit. ATF”, Opie muttered.

No! No, no, no… You can’t take him.

I tore myself from Opie; and stumbled back into the cabin. Jax was standing over Josh’s limp corpse. “Go…”, I whispered. He looked at me incredulously. “What?”, he breathed. I walked over to him; and looked down at the corpse at his feet. “ATF is coming. You just committed murder. You have to go”, I said. “I’m not leaving you!”, he said.

I put my hand on his cheek; and kissed him softly. “I love you”, I said; and took the gun from his hand. He tried to hold on to it; but Chibs pulled at his arm. “Come on; Jax”. “I can’t leave her”, Jackson yelled, and looked into my eyes. “Come with me!”.

I sighed; and looked down. “I have a ride…”, I said; and looked towards the blinking lights coming closer. I pried his fingers from the gun; and stepped away from him.

“Jax, come on!”, Opie yelled from the door. Chibs dragged him towards the exit. “I love you, Cat!”, Jax whimpered. “I love you Jackson. Go”, I said; voice calm.

They sprang on their bikes; and drove fast as they could; down a dirt road behind the cabins.

I sat down on the bed and waited.

---

A few minutes later, two SWAT-officers sprang through the door – guns aimed at me.

“Put down the gun! Hands behind your head”. I dropped the gun on the floor; and kicked it towards the officers; before putting my hands behind my head. “Get on your knees!”. I shook my head. “I can’t”.

I heard a woman’s voice. “Are they in there?”, she called out. “No, ma’am”, one of the officers answered. “She’s alone. With a dead body”. A woman in a grey suit stepped in behind them. “Shit! We needed him red handed”. She looked pissed.

“Get on your knees!”, the first officer repeated. “I can’t! My leg’s busted”, I sneered. The woman shook her head. “Let it go”, she muttered. “You’re Catherine Rose, I take it”. “Cat…”, I said. “Cat”, she smiled. “Meow… well, this is a shitty ass situation for you. You’re alone in a room with a dead FBI agent”.

I looked at her with cold eyes. “Where’s Jackson Teller?”, she asked. “Not here”, I said. “So who killed agent Kohn?”. I looked away. “I did”, I said. “You did…”, she repeated with a chuckle. “And I take it you gave him that beating as well”, she continued; walking over to examine the body on the floor. “He attacked me. Beat me. Tried to rape me”. Her smile disappeared. “Huh”, she scoffed. “So you kicked his ass; and shot him in the head”. “Adrenaline”, I said.

She sighed. “Cuff her. Take her in”.

One of the officers pulled me up into a standing position; and pulled my arms down; zip-tying my wrists together. “Catherine Rose. You are under arrest for the murder of Joshua Kohn. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say; can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”. The rest of his words disappeared into a blur; as the two officers supported my weight out of the door.

I looked back towards Joshua’s body one last time.

I hope you burn in hell…

---

I was driven to St. Thomas; and given a once over by a doctor. Once they had taken skin samples from under my nails; and I was cleared of any serious injury – beyond the almost torn over tendon in my knee; and the bent ribs on my right side – I was driven to the police station, and put in a cell for the rest of the night. I didn’t sleep.

The next morning, I was brought to an interview room; where a kind looking lawyer was waiting for me. “Catherine; I’m Abby Lowen”, she said. “Cat”, I said. “Are you a public defender?”. She shook her head. “Jackson Teller hired me”. She let out a deep breath. “He filled me in”. “So you know I killed Jo… agent Kohn”, I said.

She narrowed her eyes. “He gave me a slightly different story”, she said. “Then he’s lying. I killed him”. She shook her head. “I want to help you, Cat”, she said quietly. “But I can only do that, if you tell me the truth”. I stared her square in the face. “I’m not sending Jax to jail”, I said. She leant back in her chair. “Ok”, she sighed. “So tell me what you think happened”.

I swallowed. “Joshua has been stalking me for over a year. I tried getting a restraining order; but he used his pull to make it go away”, I said. “I came to Charming to start over… but he followed me here. He kidnapped me; beat me – and tried to rape me. So, I killed him”.

Lowen let out a deep breath. “I know part of that is true. And I am very sorry that happened to you”, she said sincerely. “I managed to pull out a record from six months ago; citing an attack on you, at your old job”. “Yeah. Kohn”, I said. She shook her head. “The report says the attacker was never found. That you didn’t name him”. “I did!”, I frowned. She opened a file in front of her. “I also have another record, stating that you were under the influence of cocaine while at work as a middle school teacher”. “Kohn”, I repeated.

She sighed again. “If we can prove that agent Kohn attacked you; you’ll probably be cleared of charges – citing self defense”, she said. “But if would be easier for you if you just…”. I slammed my hand into the table. “I am not giving them Jax”. She nodded. “I get it. Ok. Let’s move forward with your story”. “I’m sorry”, I muttered. “I know you’re trying to help…”. She smiled crookedly. “Let’s fix this, Cat”, she said quietly.

I swallowed. “Am I going to jail?”, I asked. “We’ll try to avoid that. For now, agent Stahl wants you here, for some reason”. “She wants to use me against the club”, I said. She nodded. “I think so…”.

The door opened, and agent Stahl came in. “You’re free to go”, she said. “What?”, I said. “We found the shotgun under the bed; with Kohn’s fingerprints on it. And you, my dear; had buckshot’s in your arm when we found you. It doesn’t make him look good”.

Lowen shook her head. “What’s going on, Stahl? You arrested her. She confessed”. The agent chuckled. “Are you trying to keep you client in custody?”, she said. She looked at me. Her botoxed face gave me the shivers. “It looks like you were telling the truth, kitty”. I wanted to smack the filler out of her lips.

“So, what now?”, Lowen asked. “You’re not in the clear”, Stahl said. “If it turns out what happened was in fact murder; you’re back in here”. Lowen shook her head. “Double jeopardy. You can’t do that…”. Stahl looked at her seriously. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. We, as women, have to believe in ourselves!”. “You can’t arrest her twice for the same crime”, Lowen said. Stahl shook her head. “There was never any arrest”, she said. I scoffed. “Your guy literally arrested and read me my rights last night”. She smiled brightly. “Turns out he was hitting the hooch”, she said. “He’s suspended; and the arrest was deemed null and void”. Lowen looked at her incredulously. “So, if you change your mind; you can pull her back in and charge her again”. “Exactly!”, Stahl grinned. “Now, get your belongings, and skedaddle”.

I was flabbergasted; and began limping towards the open door. “Oh!”, Stahl called after me. “The gun used to kill agent Kohn… it didn’t have a serial number. Did he bring that as well?”. She narrowed her eyes at me Lowen took a hold of my arm. “You don’t have to say anything”, she muttered; and helped me out the door.

“Your boyfriend is waiting outside the station”, Stahl called after us. “Have a nice day!”.

I said goodbye to Lowen – promised to call if I needed her – and limped out into the daylight.

Jax was leaning against his bike; and when he saw me; he walked over, and helped me down the stairs. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Can you ride?”, he muttered. “Yeah…”, I whispered. He gave me his helmet; and got on his bike; letting me get on behind him. Without a word; he started up the bike, and drove us away from the station.

---

He took us home; and helped me through the door; transporting me to the couch; and putting a pillow under my leg, to lift my knee. “Need ice?”, he said. “I’m good. Thanks”, I said.

He nodded; and hesitated for a second; before leaning in and giving me a chaste kiss on my lips. He walked in to the kitchen; and grabbed me a bag of peas from the freezer – coming back to put it on my knee. “I said I was good”, I muttered. “It’s swollen”, he said. “Keep it on there”. “Ok”, I whispered.

Jax moved towards the front door. “Jax?”, I croaked. “You’re safe now”, he said; back turned to me. “Look at me…”, I pleaded.

He met my gaze. His eyes were indifferent. “I have to go take care of some stuff”, he said. “Gemma’s got the kid for a few days”. “I can take him…”. “No, you need to heal… It’ll be a late one. Don’t wait up”.

He left without looking back. When I heard him start up his bike; I instantly began sobbing.

After a while; I managed to get myself into the bathroom; and take a shower – leaning against the wall for support. I stumbled into the bedroom; and fell onto the bed – tears returning to my eyes.

Lyla came by; letting herself in. She’d brought a casserole; and a thermos of her special brew. “How are you feeling?”, she asked, after she’d helped me into the kitchen. I shook my head. “He… he’s dead. It’s over”, I said. She nodded. “I’m so sorry. You’ve been through so much”.

I looked at my friend’s face. She was so kind, and – porn-star or not – almost angelic in her demeanor. “What happens next?”, she said. I sighed. “I have no idea…”, I said quietly. “I might get charged again… might not. It’s all just up in the air”. “Jax’ll make sure you’ll be fine”, she smiled. “Yeah…”, I whispered.

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”. I shook my head. “He wouldn’t talk to me…”, I said. “He just left for… I don’t know what”. She squeezed my hand. “Must have been something important”, she said. “He loves you, Cat. It’ll be fine…”. I tried to smile, and nodded. “I want to get some sleep”. “Of course!”, she said. “I have to pick up Piper from soccer anyway”.

I limped after her to the door, and she kissed my cheek. “Everything will be ok. You just have to heal. And so does he”. She left; and I stumbled back into the bedroom.

I fell asleep; and woke at 3 am; from the sound of Jax moving around in the bedroom. “Are you ok?”, I whispered. “Yeah”, he said; and kissed my chin quickly; laying down next to me. “Go back to sleep”. He turned his back to me; and pulled the covers over his body. “Goodnight”.

He didn’t touch me all night.

---

I woke up late the next morning; and limped into the kitchen; to find Jax smoking a cigarette; and drinking a cup of coffee. He’d found a set of crutches somewhere; and put them against the counter. “Thanks”, I said. He nodded at me; and went to grab me a mug. “Did you eat yesterday?”, he said. “I wasn’t hungry”. “Lyla brought food…”, he muttered. “Like I said…”. He shook his head, and got up – getting a bowl; cereal and milk – setting it all down in front of me. “Eat”.

I sighed. “Would you please talk to me?”, I said. He sat down again; and took a draw from his smoke. “What do you want me to say?”. “You killed a man, Jax!”, I sneered. He blew out smoke. “Yeah, I do that”, he muttered. “I talked to Lowen. She told me what happened. That was stupid of you…”.

I frowned. “I wasn’t going to send you to jail!”. “I’ve been inside before. I’d manage”. “This was murder! You wouldn’t have come back”. “Cat…”. “No! Why are you mad at me?”.

He met my eyes. “I’m not”, he said softly. “I’m just… what happened. It shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have left the clubhouse”. “I had to”, I muttered. “Kohn knew where you were. He would have sent Stahl after you”. Jackson bit his lip. “You shouldn’t have left”. I fought tears. “I wanted to protect you”. “I know…”.

We sat in silence for a while. “I have to go”, Jax said. “Why”, I whimpered. “I have a deal to tie up”, he said; and stood up – putting on his cut. I gave in, and let the tears fall. “Don’t… Cat; I’ll be back later, ok? Call Gemma, if you don’t want to be alone. You shouldn’t drive until your knee is better”.

“What Josh did to me… I just wanted you to come and take me away”, I sniveled. “I did come; but you didn’t come with me when I asked”, he answered. “And now… you can’t even touch me or look at me”, I said He sighed, and took my hand. “I love you Cat. But I don’t know what you want from me”, he said. “He’s dead. It’s over. You don’t have to be afraid anymore”.

He leant over me; and kissed my lips gently. “We’ll get through this shit with Stahl”, he said. “Just… heal up. I’ll see you later”.

He walked out the door; and I was alone again.

[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

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TW: Inspired by events in BTVS 7.16 “Storyteller” and BTVS 7.22 “Chosen.” Discussions of miscarriage and abortion. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 41: The Witch

DAY 1

Giles had seen Buffy’s heart break many times, but when Dean disappeared mid-kiss, Giles knew this time she might break in two.

Go to her. Go to her. Despite the urging of his heart, Giles did not break from the crowd gathered on Buffy’s front stoop. Shame froze him. He had been afraid to chase her when she had withdrawn weeks ago, apparently burdened by her secret pregnancy. Afraid to ask. And when the whole house had turned their backs on her, he’d gone along with them.

There Buffy stood -- barely a day post-demon possession -- suddenly alone.

Go to her. Go to her.

Dawn brushed past Giles and the Potentials to hold her sister’s hand and whisper in her ear.

Buffy, dry-eyed with her face set firm, turned to them and said, “Let’s hit the books. We need to focus on Caleb.”

“Excuse me?” asked Dani. “Dean was in charge, and now he’s gone. We should hold a vote.”

“No need,” said Giles, enjoying the flutter of rage across the girl’s face. “Buffy’s in charge.”

“I didn’t hear Dean say that,” she retorted.

“He didn't have to,” said Dawn with her chin held high.

“Buffy’s in charge,” repeated Betje as other voices joined the chorus.

Giles turned back into the house with a knot of Potentials in his wake. He had no idea what to do about Caleb or even if he was still alive after the fire, but Buffy needed focus. He was halfway up the stairs to grab research materials when he came barrelling back, nearly running Spike over.

“Oi! Watch it. Don’t damage the goods,” Spike said, rubbing his chest suggestively.

“It’s you! You’re the key!” Giles said, eagerly.

“Key? ‘Aven’t ‘eard that in a while.”

Ideas and memories flashed in Giles’ head faster than he could capture them. The First -- Lucifer -- had been chasing them for months because the first creature it had met in this world was Spike. But why did an archangel care about what a vampire thought was important? “The First spent weeks with you. What did it want?”

A twinge around Spike’s eyes betrayed his feelings about that time. “Information. Basic Sunnydale Who’s Who and What’s What.”

“But did it try to get in you? Read your mind or possess you?” Gabriel and Castiel had traveled through dimensions in their vessels; Lucifer had not.

“Night I ran into it ‘twas just a light, but it shot through me, jumped out looking like ‘er,” he said, pointing at Buffy as she entered the house.

“Got an idea?” Buffy asked. She still held her sister’s hand while Xander and Anya flanked her.

“Vessels,” said Giles. “It’s literally been staring us in the face this entire time. Lucifer needs a vessel. He wants Sam. He tried Astrid. There are very few options here for demons, let alone an archangel.”

“So he tried to use Spike,” she said with a quiet horror.

“But Spike didn’t give his permission--”

“--so Lucifer was ejected.”

“I ‘ad an angel in me?!” Spike curled his lip in disgust. “Now I need to shower.”

The idea seized Giles, his voice loud as he paced in the foyer. “What if, Lucifer found another vessel? Inferior, but enough to give him some form. Not a vampire because they are already possessed by demons, and obviously not the Slayer.”

“A witch!” Xander exclaimed with a giant smile. “They’re the only other group that can be possessed!”

Dawn raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d think you’d be less excited with your best friend being a witch and all.”

“Not possessable!” he cheered, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “For once, the Zeppo has the superpower!”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t die,” Buffy muttered.

“What?”

“I, um, I got to Caleb at the winery,” she explained, the tiredness settling into her eyes. “Shoved my sword in and did not take home a prize.”

“I had the same reaction when you stabbed me,” Anya stated proudly, “and that was after Sam shot me in the head.”

“You two,” said Giles pointing at Buffy and Spike, “tell me everything about your interactions with Lucifer and Caleb. We’ll go back through everything again. If we want to kill Caleb, we need to cut off the power source.”

Barely half and hour back in her house without Dean, and between the walls, the air, and the constant jostling of bodies, Buffy was going to explode. “I’m going to check on Will and our new  guests. Dawn, Anya, see if the girls need anything, and I’ll do a supply run.”

“You mean ‘we,’ oh carless one,” said Xander, happily closing his book.

“You, me, and vampire-infested buildings.” She flashed a lucky us grin. Just like old times. “Grab a couple of the better fighters to go with us. ”

Upstairs, she cracked open Willow’s door to find her still sleeping off her possession by Hecate. Buffy sneaked inside, hoping to find a few of Tara’s clothes for Ellen.

Willow stirred and muttered, “Sam?”

Crouching by the bed, Buffy brushed her friend’s hair from her eyes. “Just me.”

“Where’s Sam?” Her voice was soft and small. Tender, sleepy Will without a hint of terrifying goddess.

Buffy smiled tightly. “He came down after you fell asleep.” Willow needed to rest; she would break the news about the Winchesters later.

Jo was considering changing into a skirt when her mother, wrapped in a towel, ducked into the bedroom. “I don’t think anything in here will fit you, Mom.” Jo pointed at the flood-high hem of the jeans she’d put on.

Ellen smiled, a far away look in her eye. “Not sure my skin could handle clothes right now anyway.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Jo had turned the water up as hot as she could, but it still felt icy. The flannel she’d found barely helped.

Ellen nodded and sat on the bed. “Everything just kinda feels… sharp. Hard.”

Jo sat beside her. She knew exactly what her mother meant. Only a little noise from downstairs breached the quiet bedroom, but Jo had felt a roar in her ears since they’d arrived. She remembered holding her own guts in with her hands, growing cold and numb as blood gushed from her body. Her brave mother had offered to set off an explosion to save the Winchesters, their only hope at killing the Devil. Jo didn’t remember the explosion. Then nothing. Only it wasn’t nothing, but she was having a bitch of a time remembering what had happened. Then suddenly they were in someone’s backyard in the blazing sun.

“I died, didn’t I?” Jo whispered.

Ellen squeezed her hand. “We both did, baby.”

Jo let the words dissipate in the air. She couldn’t think about them now. Maybe not even later. So she looked around the room, trying to figure out what sort of person it belonged to.

Brown floral wallpaper and crochet pillows gave it the feel of an older woman’s room. The tangles of cheap jewelry on the dressing table, clothes strewn across the floor, and posters -- reproductions of Waterhouse paintings -- screamed college student.

Then Jo spotted an unbelievable picture from the nightstand. Dean Winchester in sunglasses and a t-shirt, his radiant smile highlighted by the sun, stood on a boardwalk, ocean behind him, with his arms around the blonde they’d spoken to.

“Mom, what was that girl’s name again?”

“Buffy? Bitty? One of those country club names.”

“She doesn’t seem like Dean’s type,” she said, handing the picture to her mom.

Ellen beamed. “They look happy.”

Jo snickered. Dean Winchester was the handsomest, cockiest hunter she’d ever met, and she had spent years pining after him. Nothing obvious. Sneaking glances when he’d come in the bar. Calling every few months to check in on him, his husky rumble making her melt as she kept the conversation light and friendly.

Trouble was, Dean was like most hunters. Emotionally distant. Messiah complex. Can’t-get-close-to-people bullshit. Jo wanted him, but she wanted him to settle down. She wanted his big heart to find a home, to trade in the revolving door of women for one woman who knew his life and his worries.

Even though he had often checked out her ass, Dean hadn’t had the guts to make a move until the day before she died. Even then, knowing it may be her last opportunity to sleep with that beautiful man, she couldn’t bring herself to be a desperate pity fuck.

It took her dying for him to be real with her. She had no idea how long she’d been dead, but his soft, warm lips gently apologizing for her fate as he finally kissed her was practically yesterday.

“Happy? Mom, we’re talking about Dean Winchester. Didn’t you say he was trouble to the core?”

“I said he was troubled. Boy ain’t had an easy life.” Ellen pushed her damp hair back and squinted at her daughter. “I also said he wasn’t for you.”

Ellen wrapped her arm around her daughter, combing her hair with her fingers. It felt familiar and surreal at the same time, like discovering everything in your house had been painted the same shade of sickly pink.

“You okay, baby girl?”

“I will be. I don’t remember living being so exhausting.”

There was small knock at the door before Bitty/Buffy came in with an unconvincing smile on her face. She handed Ellen a green skirt. “I hope it fits. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty damn good for a dead woman,” said Ellen. “That don’t seem to phase you any.”

“Read the book and saw the movie.” The blonde scanned Jo. Her eyes lit up for a brief second when she saw the ill-fitting flannel. “Well, that’s a look. I could see if one of the taller girls has pants you could wear, but pickin’s are slim. Probably best we head to the mall. You can join us if you feel up to fighting.”

Jo did feel like fighting. Something in her felt caged and angry, but she didn’t know why. Although she doubted patrons at a crowded mall would appreciate her need to punch something. “Pants would be great, but cash is not so great.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Quick recap, (because my sister has this whole ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ speech, and I don’t want to step on her thing): Welcome to Sunnydale, California. This town sits on a Hellmouth, which I guess you call a Devil’s Gate. Lucifer and his minions have driven out the entire town save for a few people on my team. Anyone else who stayed has been turned into a vampire.” She breezed through all of this lightly, as if it was a rundown of what she’d done over the summer.

“So we’re less about the shopping and more about the pillaging supplies from a vampire-infested abandoned mall. Which is where the do-you-feel-like fighting thing comes in. Bobby Singer is downstairs if you have more questions. Let me know in an hour if you want to go.”

Bitty/Buffy stopped her hasty exit when Jo asked, “Where are Dean and Sam? Things are kinda fuzzy, but I swear I saw them.”

“They had to go,” the blonde said without looking back.

Spike was confused. He hated being confused. The Winchesters (and the angels) were gone, caught a feathery red eye to destiny. He’d seen it happen.

But who were the new people?

Granted, he was used to new faces showing up out of the blue, but Potentials were not generally grizzled long-haul truckers. The man was mostly interested in the books and Giles, but he still gave Spike that sleeps-with-a-gun feel that Dean had. By the time Buffy came downstairs with two women who were probably and certainly not Potentials, he was ready for some answers.

Abandoning Giles and his endless questions, Spike followed the three women, Xander, and some Potentials outside. “Where we going?”

Buffy turned to look at him. Suddenly, he was reminded what it felt like to have your heart thrill so much, it forgets its beat. Only a day before, she’d appeared as a demon and beaten him soft. Now, she was practically radiating light.

“You up for some shopping?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Could do with some new boots.”

“So could some of the girls. Plus, Jo and Ellen are going to need some clothes.”

Spike nodded at the mysterious Jo and Ellen. “I’ll drive.” He held up the Impala keys he’d nabbed from the key tray.

Although Spike longed to drive Dean’s Impala since first laying eyes on it, he’d mostly picked up the keys as a gag. Show Buffy the keys. See what she did.

A disproportionate panic swept over her face. Eyes wide, she shook her head in tight nos.

She doesn’t think he’s coming back.

Before Buffy could protest and before Spike could toss her the keys, Xander butted in. “Drive what?”

Buffy crossed her arms. “He thinks he’s driving Dean’s car.”

“Funny,” said the blonde -- Jo or Ellen? “You’re not what I would have expected Dean’s best friend to look like. I mean, he barely let’s Sam drive that thing.”

The stranger scratched at her arm like the very air bothered her and squinted at the sun with disapproval. She had a nervous, trapped energy about her. It felt familiar to Spike.

Xander laughed. “Dean and Spike get along like oil and water if oil and water were trying to murder each other.”

“Yet you’re the one with a Winchester wallop.” Spike pointed at the purple bruise on Xander’s jaw.

“I can fit four.” Xander slinked away, tail between his legs.

Having no desire to stress Buffy out, Spike tossed her the keys. “Just ‘aving a laugh, pet.”

Buffy tenderly held the keys for a heartbeat before handing them to the older woman. “Ellen? We just need to follow the other cars.”

“Sure, honey. Something normal sounds pretty good right now.”

The four of them silently piled into the Impala -- Ellen and Buffy in the front. Jo shooting Spike curious side-eye across the expanse of the backseat. It was mid-April, yet Ellen cranked up the heat.

After a few turns, Buffy cracked her window. “It fades after a while. The cold.”

Jo peeled her dark eyes off of Spike. “What are you talking about.”

“It was warm, wasn’t it?” Buffy sounded far away. “It was warm and quiet. Now everything feels cold and loud and painfully bright. I won’t motivational poster you and say it gets better, but the intensity fades.”

“How do you know?” Jo asked.

“It’s been two years for me,” Buffy replied. “More for Spike.”

Recently resurrected then? Seeing Jo’s twitching discomfort in the daylight had thrown him. Since they knew the Winchesters, they must have been resurrected and brought here by the angels. The trucker-looking fellow was probably the same story. Sam and Dean’s parents? They had never mentioned a sister; although they’d dropped the news of another brother like a bomb only a couple days before.

Jo’s body loosened a bit, as if the intense fight or flight warring in her brain had finally settled on sitting. She looked out the window on the abandoned town. A few buildings here and there had been damaged by vampires, who were no doubt nesting inside during the day, but most were simply abandoned. “A lot of people die here?”

“Part of the human condition,” Spike said. “Only, sometimes it doesn’t take.”

They pulled up to the mall. Ellen, examining the smashed glass doors, said, “Mind if I just play getaway driver? This skirt ain’t exactly made for kickin’ ass.”

Buffy shrugged. “There’s a learning curve, but sure. We won’t be long.”

Buffy issued orders to the small band of Potentials who’d arrived in the two other cars. “There are probably dozens of vampires hiding in there, but lucky for us most of them are asleep. So stay quiet and don’t wander off. We’re in and out. Remember,” she said, handing a stake to Jo, “anyone who’s not us gets a stake through the heart.”

With a small grin, Jo twirled the stake in her fingers. “A stake? Next you’re going to tell me they’re repelled by garlic and crosses.”

“They are,” said one of the Potentials, eagerly.

“I just feel extra stabby today, though,” said Buffy.

“I can get behind that,” Jo muttered.

Inside, there was a shoe store immediately to their right. Buffy pointed at Xander and his carload to break off while she led Jo, Spike and the rest to The Gap.

With no concern for style or sizes, everyone began to shove clothes into their bags. Jo was pulling jeans from the shelf when a man walked out of the dressing room.

“Want to try something on?” he asked with a hungry smile.

Buffy lept between them. One, two kicks in the face. Suddenly, he was snarling and yellow-eyed. Buffy hooked his head with her heel, yanking him to the ground. She plunged the stake into his heart.

Jo seemed most surprised when the vampire turned to dust.

“Makes clean up easy, doesn’t it?” Spike whispered in Jo’s ear. “Think we got time to hit up the food court?”

DAY 2

Dean rolled over, seeking out Buffy’s warmth, and curled his body around hers. His morning hardness grew firmer as he pressed against her backside. Barely awake, he nibbled her neck, his fingers stumbling to find a way under her pajamas.

Buffy sighed, “We don’t have time, baby.”

“I miss touching you.”

“You don't want to be late for our big day.”

Everyone in the Winchesters’ apartment was up just before sunrise. Buffy could feel the reason for her sleeplessness flipping in her stomach and pounding behind her eyes. With barely a word between them, the group stumbled to Dean’s Impala and drove back to the Summers’ house.

Willow sat on the back porch with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Dean’s family and Dawn headed inside while Buffy grabbed a chair by her friend.

“Here to rouse the troops? We’re fresh outta bugles.”

“Nah. Let ‘em sleep.” Buffy had pushed them to the breaking point the last time they attacked Caleb, and they still failed. A few more hours of sleep wouldn’t be the deciding factor next time.

“Feeling better, Will?”

“You mean, do I not feel like I’m made of lightning, or am I okay with this being the vessel for the goddess of witchcraft thing?”

“The former, the latter will be...latter.”

“Just Willow here. Singular and non-floaty.” She gulped the last of her coffee and stared at the bottom of the cup, divining nothing. “I think that happened before. The vessel gig.”

The only time Buffy had seen anything close to that was when black-eyed, veiny, dark Willow tried to destroy the world after Tara’s death. She hoped that wasn’t one of Hecate’s faces.

“Remember the night Dawn was attacked in the house, and Lucifer came to me dressed up as Tara?”

Buffy nodded.

“I blacked out. Whited out? The last thing I remember was this growing light. Then I woke up in a burned circle of grass. I had no idea what happened, but I think since Lucifer was trying to get me to kill myself, Hecate came to my rescue.”

“Maybe that’s why he targeted you?”

Willow’s doe-eyes were heavy with thought. “Maybe. I’m not sure how I feel about housing something the Devil is scared of. That’s not usually the plot in a rom com or plucky musical.”

With a sleeping goddess in her and her boyfriend capable of hosting an archangel, this was the only topic that could direct Buffy away from her concern for Dean. “Maybe don’t think of it as being taken over. What if Hecate is like Cinderella, and you’re her slipper?”

“No one wants to grow up to be the shoe in that story.”

Buffy shrugged. “More terrible metaphors are in the works. They’re my favorite past time as of yesterday.”

Willow eyed her with a frown. “You miss him?”

Snuggled in his t-shirt in his bed, she’d lain awake reminding herself Dean was the best hunter alive. Alive. The few moments she managed to sleep, she had dreamed of his fingers in her hair, his breath tickling her skin. “Of course!”

“‘Cause you guys were kinda on the outs for a while, then one possession and you’re back to being joined at the hip.”

Buffy picked at some flaking paint on her chair, and mulled over how much she was willing to expose. Everyone save Giles was probably just as confused, but her pain wasn’t a balm to soothe a itch of curiosity.

“I was going through something, and I didn’t know how to talk with him about it.”

“You know who is always up for a talk? Your neighborhood Willow, located conveniently down the hall. We’ve been through a ton of stuff, Buffy. I don’t understand why you didn’t think you could talk to me.”

Willow liked Buffy’s relationship with Angel when it was a crush, but had turned against it and her once it became deadly serious. Her friend didn’t understand how being alive again was a curse and how that despair drove her to Spike. How could she expect Willow, in the midst of both mourning and sorting out her sexuality, to carry any of the pregnancy weight?

“I don’t think we fixed us,” Buffy said.

“What?”

“You went dark, Willow. Really dark. By the time you came back, Dean and Sam were here, and it felt easy to just move on. I did the eggshell walk for a little bit, but mostly I was wrapped up in Dean. Maybe I never got off the eggshells, because it didn’t feel right to dump this on you.”

Tears welled in Willow’s eyes. “I know we can’t go back. I can never make it up to you--”

“You don’t have to make up!” Buffy grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed. “What we need is time. You and me. Maybe Xander, but definitely you and me. Hey, how about we do some sort of road trip, huh? The three of us? After we bag the Devil, the girls deal with things while we have much needed friend time.”

Willow nodded and offered a weak smile. “Will you ever tell me what happened?”

“Later. Now is for coffee,” Buffy said as she headed inside.

Bobby was used to research. Piles of yellowing books, strong coffee, and a sore back were his preferred methods of learning. Much better than the knock-in-the-teeth experience style. Although, Andrew and Dawn’s “Welcome to Sunnydale” basement conference has been some of the most informative hours of his life.

For instance, everyone was making their fight harder by not differentiating demons from monsters. Anya -- defensive in a way that people with secrets are -- had insisted that a creature born on earth and with no dealings with the soul or Hell was still a demon. Bobby had some theories he wanted to test before he took her word. He’d picked up from Andrew’s nervousness and constant invocation of heroic stories that the boy felt he needed to redeem himself for something. Dawn’s swings between pride and shame when talking about her sister -- Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- had tipped him off that something was wrong. Later, when Buffy gently insisted they all travel back to the Winchesters’ apartment at night instead of staying in her own, or one of the nearby houses, made it evident that everyone in that house had betrayed her.

Recently.

Bobby would get to the bottom of everything eventually, but first, he had to survive the Apocalypse. As luck would have it, he had a book for that.

While Bobby knew better than anyone that this fight turned fresh-faced kids into battle-scarred husks faster than anything, he struggled to call anyone in the Summers’ house an adult. Anyone but Giles.

Thankfully, Bobby didn’t have to venture far into the house before finding Giles. Propped over a book at the dining table, the Watcher was either completely engrossed or had fallen asleep. With only the smallest twinge of guilt for robbing Giles of his respite, Bobby tossed a book on the table, causing Giles to jump in his seat. Asleep.

“Rough night?” Ellen asked, settling into the chair beside Giles.

Giles rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Relatively calm until the screaming began around three. A couple of the girls had rather vivid nightmares.”

“Don't know why,” said Jo, picking up a book and making a face. “Lucifer is out to get them. No big deal.”

Ellen snatched the book from her hands. “Coffee, Little Miss. Get some for Bobby, too.”

For a second, Jo’s face flushed with teenage exasperation before she headed to the kitchen.

Redirecting her attention, Ellen asked, “Where are the girls now?” She glanced at the knot of girls lounging around the living room. “The screaming ones?”

“We moved them to Buffy’s room so they’d stop disturbing the others. I haven’t heard them in a while, so I assume they’re still asleep.” Giles checked his watch. “Is that really the time?”

“Sorry, Rupert. We thought we’d get right to business today.” Ellen offered an apologetic smile. “Speakin’ of, point me at those girls when they’re up. I don’t understand a lot about wherever the hell we are, but I’m sure mothering is still the same.”

A small smile broke free on Giles’ lips. “No doubt they need that. Some of these girls haven’t seen their families for six months.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “The squeaky blond boy said they’re here because they're the next vessel for Artemis, who is currently asleep inside of Buffy, and that’s why she’s a super-powered vampire-killing machine. Right?”

Giles nodded. “In short.”

Bobby pushed the slim book he’d dropped on the table toward Giles. He’d gotten it from a book dealer probably two decades before, as a ‘thank you’ for saving her son from a poltergeist. The book, Huntress Bound by The Order of the Oracle, contained a ludicrous story about how the goddess of witches captured and enslaved the goddess of the hunt. It was warped from years of propping up the nightstand in Bobby’s bedroom. “Archangel Asshole insisted I bring this.”

Giles was agape as he flipped through the pages, muttering, “Yes,” over and over. Finally, he looked up. “Bobby, are you any good at research?”

“Good at it? My research is the only thing that’s been keeping those idjits alive all this time.”

DAY 3

She straightened his tie. Dean looked even more impossibly handsome in his grey three-piece suit. His mossy green eyes sparkled in the late morning sun. Would it be bad luck to kiss him now?

“You are beautiful,” he said, skimming his hands over her waist and down her hips. The sequins on her gown clattered under his fingers.

“You don't think it's too much?”

“You're perfect.”

Holding hands, they turned to look at the ivy covered church. It was now or never. “Ready?” she asked.

Dean flashed his machete in reply.

Buffy kicked in the doors.

Buffy unlocked the apartment door. Sunnydale was only occupied by her people and vampires, but locking the door felt good.

She had been itching to patrol. Fresh air. Time alone. Violence. She didn’t need to go far from the apartment. Though they turned it off at sunset, the generator on the roof was a rumbling call that tasty humans lived inside. She’d dusted six vampires just on her street, each kill softening the anxious needles in her brain. Maybe tonight, she wouldn’t have that nightmare again.

She tiptoed into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before bed, only to find Jo with a bottle of whiskey, pictures scattered around her on the floor.

Gently, Buffy removed the whiskey from her hands, and gave Jo a bottle of water. “Rough day?”

“I wanted to know if getting drunk felt the same.”

“Does it?”

“Feels pretty good.” Jo grinned at her. “I’m not usually a mess like this, I swear. But I come back from the dead to ‘The Pantheon Realm’ where my friend is dating ‘a slayer’ which totally sounds like something he would have killed when I was alive.” She used finger quotes around her words. “Although my life did involve cities laid to waste by Lucifer and his demons, so at least one thing’s consistent.”

“You think I’m a monster?”

“No! But you’re freaking me out! Everything is familiar, yet not familiar. Bonus! Now that I’m alive again, it looks like I’m going to die. Blaze of glory round two!”

Buffy understood. Heaven was rest. Hell was coming back to a fate-packed to-do. “You’ve been alive for three days. If you want to stay here tomorrow and chill, that’s fine. Maybe drive off into the sunset? You don’t have to help fight Lucifer.”

“Hey, I died helping fight Lucifer!” Her eyes were ablaze as she pointed at Buffy. Soon, she slumped back against a cabinet and ran her finger over the pictures of the floor. Jo chuckled and held a picture too close to Buffy’s face. “What is this?”

It was from Buffy and Dean’s vacation to San Francisco on Halloween. They’d stopped to watch a parade where a drag queen was affronted by their lack of costume. The queen’s solution was to dump a bag of hot pink glitter on Dean. In the picture, Buffy was laughing as he tried to rub the glitter on her. It was Sam’s favorite picture, and he made sure it was prominently displayed on the refrigerator.

“On Halloween, Dean and I took a little vacation--”

“That! That crazy, opposite day stuff is what I’m talking about.” Jo’s voice was loud and slurred. “‘Went on a vacation’, with Dean Fucking Winchester? He’s not the guy anyone goes on vacation with! He’s the guy who finds you crying in your beer after your boyfriend dumps you on vacation. He’s the guy who promises you one night of great sex before running away from any feelings he may have stirred up. Dean Winchester is much more interested in sluts than girlfriends.”

Dean had barely talked about Jo. Ellen yes. Bobby at length. Jo got short statements. She was “a kid” who was “in over her head.” “Somethin’ to prove.” He’d spoken of her death once.

Yet, on more than one occasion, Lucifer referred to Jo and Dean in much more intimate terms. Buffy hated it when they’d had to discuss her relationship with Spike, so she never asked about Jo. She was the past. She was buried.

“Sounds like you spent a lot of time with him,” Buffy replied.

Jo waved her bottle of water dismissively. “I’m happy for him. I am. God knows that man needs more people than Sam.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just that...well...I don’t have superpowers. Is that all it took to get noticed?”

Buffy’s heart broke for Jo. Jo, ripped from death to be dealt a crappy life. Aching from the newness and unfairness of it all. Pining for the right man met at the wrong time.

“Will you girls quit yer snivlin’ and git to bed?” growled Bobby from the couch.

DAY 5

Their friends and family waited quietly in the pews while the choir of Potentials sang:

    There are many here among us

    Who feel that life is but a joke

    But you and I we've been through that

    And this is not our fate

    So let us not talk falsely now

    The hour's getting late.

At the head of the church stood Caleb in his vestments, clapping along with the music. With each slap of his hands, one of the Potentials exploded in a puff of blood. He was flanked by a pus-pocked corpse on a fly-riddled green horse and a white robed creature with huge black wings astride a pale horse.

Pestilence charged them. Buffy grabbed the bridle and swung up, kicking the rider off. “I got him. Go!” Dean shouted as she galloped toward the priest.

Death was missing.

“Do you think this is far enough from the house?” Anya asked, tightening her grip on her axe. “You said you burned stuff that one time.”

“Because my life was being threatened by an archangel. This is just a friendly chat between frenemies,” Willow said. “Besides, I’m much more concerned about the vampires.”

At an intersection down the street, she and Buffy sat holding hands inside of Hecate’s symbol drawn in sand. According to the books, the goddess could be summoned under a full moon with appropriate sacrifices of food; they were surrounded by bottles of wine and honey bears.

Snarls drifted past the double ring of Potentials surrounding them.

The idea was that Buffy’s spirit would be able to use Willow’s vessel state to call Hecate. Then Buffy just had to convince the resentful, former friend of the goddess within Willow that she hadn’t been betrayed, and maybe she could use her powers to help a little. “Easy peasy,” Buffy grumbled.

Willow began, “Hecate! Crone Goddess of the Moon! Power, great power. Grant me this boon.”

One of the Potentials stepped back, knocking over a candle.

“Give us some room, girls! This could get weird...er.”” Buffy righted the candle and wiped some warm wax from a honey bear. “I hope mildly melty is still goddess approved.”

“Half step out!” Jo shouted. The group shuffled.

Willow tried again. “Mistress with three faces, I accept my role. Lead me to the path. Your name writ on my soul. Hi, it’s Willow Rosenberg again. Remember? You were in my body a week or so ago yelling at some --”

Everything went deathly silent. Before Willow’s eyes, the Potentials transformed into gnarled black trees. Mist and moonlight shot through their twisted branches. Buffy, still in her meditative pose, crumbled into an ash heap; in the middle of the ashes, lay a single golden pebble.

Willow didn’t dare to breathe.

The glow of a light appeared to her left. A naked, torch-bearing figure stepped out from behind one of the trees. Her skin was as dark as the night and freckled with stars. She phased in and out of three faces -- one screaming, one old, and one calm. Her pearl eyes fixed on Willow.

“You have summoned me more than any other vessel.” Her voice was musical and animal. A whisper and a cry.

Willow wasn’t sure how to respond. Hecate hadn’t asked a question, and Willow wasn’t sure if the declaration was surprised or annoyed. Willow bowed her head to the ground, arms open wide in reverence, and waited.

A chill snaked from the top of Willow's head to the tips of her toes.

“Rise, girl. What do you want?”

Willow stood, but didn’t dare look up. “Lucifer is here. His brother Michael is coming.”

Hecate lifted Willow’s chin with her hand, forcing her to look in her glowing eyes. “Why does this worry you?”

“They’re going to destroy the world.”

“Not the whole world. Only part.”

Fear rushed out of Willow’s body. “Only part! Only! Part! Do you hear yourself?”

“My concerns are not human concerns. The world is ancient. It burns and floods and freezes in the span of my heartbeat. The world will change, but I will remain.”

“Why do you think the angels would leave you alive?” Willow asked. “Lucifer is trying to wipe out Artemis’ vessels. Why not yours next?”

Something like surprise flitted over the goddess’ calm face. “I am witchcraft itself. I will remain.”

“Oh, you got an army up your, uh -- No sleeves, okay. Have you been busy calling all witches? Huh? No, you haven’t. Meanwhile, Artemis is still locked up and --”

“Do not speak to me of the Huntress!” Hecate thundered. The stars on her skin grew as if they might supernova with her rage.

Willow put her hands on her hips. “Artemis was your friend.”

“The Huntress was closer to me than a sister. She turned her back on me! How could a mortal like you understand the pain of that break?

Willow didn’t just remember skinning Warren. She remembered trying to kill Buffy. Trying to kill Giles. And those memories haunted her with each hug, each encouraging word, each smile. “I know how rare true friends are. I know every moment of pain is worth it.

“My friends and I are prepared to fight the angels, but we haven’t even been able to get past his creepy priest groupie. But we’ll keep fighting. We’ll die fighting. Saving the world is worth it.”

The calm face did not change. “Then I shall again prepare myself to search for another vessel.”

An idea popped into Willow’s head. “Why me? Why are you using me as your vessel?”

“You had the potential to be the strongest witch in the world. A lesser witch could not contain me.”

Hecate was eternal. Witches may live long lives, but not that long. Besides, Willow was born in the 80s. “What happened to your vessel before me?”

“He...disappointed me.”

“Did he have a name?”

Hecate blew out her torch and stepped back into the rapidly shrinking trees. “Gregor Skrivanek.”

Buffy, in a meditation pose across from Willow, looked at her quizzically. “Gesundheit?”

There was a twang and a wizz as one of the girls fired a crossbow. “If we’re finished being freaky, I’d kinda like to go back inside,” said Jo.

DAY 9

Before she reached the steps to trample Caleb, Buffy tumbled and bounced down the rest of the aisle. Her horse had turned into a toy. Likewise, she was small and limp, unable to move on her own. Caleb, scooped her up in his giant hands. “Did you think this was about you?”

He turned her toward her friends and family. With the snap of his fingers, they were ablaze. “Did you think you could save them?”

“The blame is on me,” he continued. “I let that vampire’s obsession with you trick me into thinking you mattered, but you don’t. You’re empty. You try to fill it with school, with shopping, with any man who is desperate enough to fuck you, but you’re a little doll who needs other people to pose her.”

He turned her away from him, toward Death at the end of the aisle, his scythe and robes spattered with blood, and dangling from his hand -- Dean’s head.

In a weird way, it was comforting to have all the Scoobies gathered around the dining table researching monsters. Almost homey, if it was even possible to feel at home in her own house again. Of course, Buffy’s semi-fond memories of high school slaying didn’t involve Spike sitting next to her as they researched monsters, or Andrew Wells fiddling with a camcorder. They didn’t involve researching how to kill a human either.

Xander’s eyes were practically cartoon hearts locked on Ellen as she replaced his empty plate with a second helping of sloppy joe, cornbread and green beans. “You’re just the most amazing, Ellen.”

Smiling, she tousled his hair before checking on the Potentials in the other room.

Xander ravenously tucked into his food.

“Xander, you got a little.” Dawn wiped at the corner of her mouth.

Anya glanced at the sauce smeared on Xander’s face. “It's just pride.”

Xander mock laughed before taking a giant bite of cornbread.

“It’s been a long, dark time since we’ve had seconds,” Andrew declared, zooming his lens in on Xander. “But Ellen knows all sorts of recipes. Tomorrow, she’s going to teach me to --”

Dawn paused from note-taking. “Andrew, what are you doing?”  

“I’m making a documentary of our gallant heroes. My redemption arc heavily features. I’m, like, the Vader of the group.”

“Don’t show interest, or he’ll think you care.” Anya slammed her book closed. “Why can’t we just set him on fire again?”

“I don’t want to be on fire,” replied Andrew, meekly.

“Not you. Caleb,” she clarified. “Fire is the traditional, time-respected way to off a witch.”

Willow scrunched her face in disgust. “One, I’m generally not a fan of the burned-at-the-stake scene. Had a close call once. A singeing, if you will. Two, I have a theory--”

Buffy tuned out while Willow explained again. The goal was to kill Caleb, but to kill him, they had to return him to a much more human state. When Dean had asked her if she was ready to kill a person, she’d bristled. While it wasn’t the Slayer’s job to deliver justice in the human sense, Caleb had clearly chosen the path of evil. She’d plunged her sword in him without hesitation. However, in light of Willow’s plan, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if Caleb -- once separated from the archangel controlling him -- could be saved. Was he simply another victim of Lucifer?

Ellen drifted back into the room, her eyes on the windows. She sucked on the insides of her cheeks when she was nervous, and she’d been nervous ever since Jo, Bobby and Giles left town two days ago to follow some leads.

“Has she called?” Spike asked, gently reaching out to touch Ellen’s arm.

Ellen smiled and patted his hand. “A few times. Thought they’d’ve been back by now.”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Spike lowered his voice to a whisper, “but stodgy ol’ Giles is right decent in a fight. She’s in good hands if it comes to that.”

Before Ellen could respond, the Impala pulled up outside. She smiled at Jo, still in her bland detective suit, coming up the walk with the Winchester's green cooler. Buffy recognized the relieved mom look. Ellen was doing a good job not steamrolling everyone between her and her daughter’s embrace.

Jo arrived with a triumphant smile. “Not even rusty.” She handed her mom the cooler. “Stopped for food before Apocalypse-zone. Got some fresh stuff!”

“Thanks, hon.” Ellen set the cooler on the table and wrapped Jo in a bear hug.

Bobby, tie loose and trucker cap back on his head, set a box of files on the table. “Had a minor setback, but we got it.”

“What happened?” Buffy asked.

“I’m afraid I am not a convincing FBI agent,” Giles said with a sigh. He glared at Andrew. “What is he doing?”

Undeterred, Andrew zoomed in. “Set the scene for us, Giles. You’re sweating bullets in the FBI office, surrounded by men in black who’ve been trained to sniff out a lie. What do you do?”

Bewildered, Giles again looked to the group. “What is he doing?”

“‘E’s keeping calm.” Spike reached into the box for a handful of files. He handed one to Buffy.

“Meet Gregor Skrivanek,” Bobby said. “Box one.”

“Of how many?” whined Anya.

“Three more in the trunk,” Jo said with a smirk.

Anya closed her book and left the room.

“Did you get the mementos we need for the spell?” Willow asked.

“That’s box four.” Jo smiled. “It’s in the backseat. Although they’re less mementos and more burnables.”

“Burning is the goal!” Willow smiled.

Buffy opened her folder, a thick police file from Boston. It contained three coroner reports and photos of three different teenage girls. Two slashed at the throat. One was just a head. All were bloated and distorted from floating in water.

“Get it all,” Buffy said. I’m ready.

DAY 12

On yesterday’s patrol, Buffy had captured a vampire minion and gave him a message for Caleb.

Highway 1 bridge at 10. Alone.

Caleb was cocky. He’d show.

The wind whipped around Buffy as she stood high above the ravine on the bridge headed out of town. She pulled her coat tighter -- not tight enough to outline the ax hanging from her belt -- and passed the time by watching Orion, Dean’s favorite constellation. Willow had told her Orion the Hunter was the only man Artemis loved. (“Later she maybe killed him, but that’s totally not your story! Not a blueprint!”) It was a cute bit of trivia, but it didn’t matter.

Dean was no more Orion than he was Michael’s toy. She was more than a holding cell. If they were anything, they were masters of their own fate.

“You came,” Caleb shouted down the bridge. “I’m surprised after the beating I handed you last time, but then you are an arrogant bitch.”

She bit back a grin. It was almost too easy. “Don’t pretend you know me.”

“Don’t I? Buffy Summers became the Slayer without any training because who would have guessed such a shallow waste of space could be anything? Certainly not her daddy who ran away in terror. Now she tries to fill the hole by spreading her legs for any old guy who shows an interest.”

He smirked at her with the hungry glare of a middle-aged man parked outside a middle school. “People think Lucifer has Daddy issues, but he’s not still trying to gain approval. He can flex his own power.”

“Kind of a crappy story,” said Buffy. “Not very accurate either. I give it two stars, but one of those is a pity star.”

She slowly walked toward him. “Here’s a story I heard recently. About thirty-five years ago, a boy named Gregor was born with the most powerful magic skills history had ever seen. Of course, floating objects over his crib frightened his parents, so they dropped him off at an orphanage. He grew to despise the nuns who ran the place. Conveniently for him, he was the lone survivor of a fire at the orphanage when he was six. By the time he was thirteen, every orphanage and foster home he went to after that found a girl dead within six months of his arrival. He was never tied to the deaths though, because he was using magic.”

Snarls echoed from underneath the bridge. Buffy had expected Caleb to bring backup; although, she tried to not dwell on what could be climbing so high above the ravine.

“Are you trying to appeal to my humanity?” Caleb sneered. “This is more nostalgia than anything.”

Buffy continued. “Murder. Murder. Murder. Always girls. Probably misplaced mommy issues over being given up. But when Gregor turned sixteen, he was caught strangling a girl and sent to a juvenile detention center where he supposedly found God. When he got out, he changed his name and became a priest. And a serial killer.”

“Nice story--”

“I wasn’t finished.” The power of her voice stopped him in his tracks. “If this boy had been a powerful warlock, why did he start choking girls. Why did he get caught?”

Caleb cocked his head to the side, clearly desperate to know.

Two pairs of feet thudded behind her at the entrance to the bridge. She couldn’t deal with them now. Caleb had to be first or the spell wouldn’t work.

“It’s because Hecate cut him off. He was supposed to be her star, her vessel to move about the Earth when needed, but he was too maggot-riddled for her.” Hecate's sense of morality may be different from theirs, but it was clear she held women in higher regard than men.

Shots zipped through the air. Whatever was behind her roared.

With Caleb distracted, Buffy closed the gap between them and slapped him across the cheek, leaving an ashen handprint. The contact of their skin blazed white hot as his body, no longer a vessel, ejected the bit of Lucifer’s grace that could fit inside.

Doubled over on his knees, Caleb growled. “What did you do, you bitch?!”

“Magic,” she replied as she swung her axe down on his neck.

One swing for her. One for Dawn. For Grace. For Vi, Sophia, and every Potential he’d killed. Buffy, whose personal code was to never kill a human, chopped him to bits for every girl he’d murdered.

She spun around. Two Turok-Han were heading up the highway towards the tall trees where Bobby, Jo, and Ellen were perched with rifles and blessed bullets. Bobby had been right. The bullets hadn’t killed the vampires, but they had slowed and distracted Caleb’s minions.   

Buffy took a deep, stuttering breath over the bloody mess in the road, grabbed a chunk of his hair, and tossed Caleb’s head into the ravine below.

“Hey!” she barked. The vampires stopped to consider who to kill first. “Miffed about being shot? Don’t lose your head over it.”

With a running start and two hand springs, Buffy was between them. She twirled her ax above her head. The vampires’ heads popped off, and they crumbled to dust.

Buffy rose. Her grin to the stars. Blood dripping from her ax, from her fingertips.

Bobby and the Harvelle’s stumbled out from the brush.

“Well that went off without a hitch.” Ellen wrapped her arm around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

“Yeah, Will’s spell turned off his vesselness.” Buffy’s hand had been covered in the ashes of some objects Caleb had owned. After Willow wrote the spell in the ash, all they needed to make it work was skin-to-skin contact.

They all began the trek back to where the Impala was hidden. Buffy resisted the urge to bounce. “God, I wish Sunnydale wasn’t shuttered up. I’d kill for a burger.”

“Nothin’ like the Apocalypse to make you miss the little things,” said Bobby.

Buffy missed one thing that wasn’t so little, but she wouldn’t let her mind drift there. The dream would come again, for sure. Tonight, however, she would live in the moment. She’d beaten back the Devil.

next chapter

[beneathmyboughs]

Yuji Final 30 Facts!

[TW for mentions of child murder/Slenderman, PTSD, animal death, emotional manipulation and endgame spoilerish stuff! Wanted to get this out while we still had time, read at your own risk!]

All of Yuji’s Part 1 Endgame posts are lyrics from his character theme, Sakura Nagashi. 

The symbol on his jacket is obvious, but the red symbol on his pants is very reminiscent of the slenderman symbol--a figure notable for taking it’s preferred victim, children, and pinning them to trees.

Piney was stated to be a Japanese Black Pine. Black Pines tend to have their weaker sibling, the white pine, grafted onto them for ensured survival. No guesses about who the white pine is to Piney’s black pine.

Yuji Matsumoto never had a fear of thunder. What he DID have was a crippling fear of loud noises, specifically explosions. He also had claustrophobia and aversion to heat like smoke or steam.

Murders or deaths of Parelthon classmates were all extra hard for him, but specifically Yuka Kagome’s death struck VERY close to home and at times threatened to render him immobile in fear or flashback.

During Yuji and Chou’s times getting to know each other she made a point of establishing her dominance from the very start, including eating whole unskinned pineapples while making eye contact to scare him. It worked.

Yes, they did use DDR to learn how to drift with each other a la Evangelion. Yes, they wore the matching 80′s dance leotards for it. Yes, with the neon spandex tights.

Yuji’s Paranoia (Including rigging his room with indicators in case anyone got in and messed with stuff, his mini traps any time he went into a new room, his general paranoia) predate his Mastermind status. He’s been toting that around since before Hope’s Peak even, having become Piney only due to said paranoia.

The reason Piney even exists in the first place is due to Yuji trying to outrun Yakuza enforcers, thus his immediate fear of anyone related to Yakuza business that he knew of, like Yuka.

Piney lived so lightly, from hotel to hotel with no discernible home address, because he was consistently on the run from both home (so no place to go) and Yakuza (despite them probably having long given up chase). Yep. THAT paranoid.

Yuji took in and cared for Mimi, Ryouji’s cat, after the class’ deaths. She passed away peacefully at a ripe old age while Yuji was grunt soldiering for the Collective. She was a well known and liked fixture of the barracks, with soldiers often feeding her when she came around.

Many of the stranger editions in the second half (The Overwatch statues, the updates to the student logs, ect) were a result of Yuji actively committing to portraying the character of the Collective’s ‘mascot’ as viciously as possible, and keeping the programmers busy coding in new and useless resource drains as opposed to active framing. Making him look like he was actively trying not to be caught was just a bonus.

Yuji genuinely did not know any of the codes aside from his own notebook’s code, nor did he himself have access to the monitoring system Topside had. Figuring out the MM room code was a genuine effort both ooc and ic, though he felt like shit getting congratulated for it.  

Yuji’s habit of rubbing at his face with his hand when stressed is in fact him covering up what he reflexively knows is a giant scar over his eye, as if to conceal or massage it. 

The tiny scar on the left side of his face where Ryouji’s shot grazed him in-game matches his real life scar on that exact same spot where a fellow soldier was shot and killed trying to drag him off the field when he had a flashback and couldn’t move. It further enforce’s Yuji’s belief that ‘These are not Accidents, it’s Fate.’

The giant v scar across his eye and nose, along with the smaller scar on his left cheek, are meant to look like the roman numeral 6 for a DA6 easter egg!

Yuji’s strong rose-tinted nostalgia mixed with the reality of seeing their actions in the murder game after 6 years split his opinion right down the middle. He used Piney to portray his fondness, and his class logs to vent his simmering disappointment. By the time he was shedding the suit the opinions had balanced out, portrayed by Yuji himself, though he still laid it on thick in the logs for the sake of the ‘character’ he was trying to portray.

While circumstances made it so that the room was not used as much, the sim in the steak house had Charmayne as a preset but included everyone on the Parelthon roster with applicable data. Yuji’s spent his steak-night ‘evenings’ pre-death game with hologrpahic Tomokas, Hanakos, Ryoujis, Tadashis, Ryans and more, all with a friendlier tint to them than reality to honey trap Yuji into continuing his resolve to start the killing game.

Should just note this: no account of Yuji speaking to having a crush, in his self narration or otherwise was real in this game. At most he may have had a crush on them back in the day, but Yuji’s level of affection would have been seen as odd for someone without an express reason (like the fact they’d all been his cherished classmates for a year). Crush was used as a stand in, but Yuji’s only nostalgic and not interested in anyone in this class. As he’d say “I’m a Mastermind, not a creep.”

Many of Yuji’s likes and dislikes from his 30 facts are direct references to military superstitions that he started to hold in his 6 years as a Collective soldier.(Numbers 8 and 9)

 The exceptions are disliking Elvis (Club Elvis was the Yakuza run bar he went to to make his payments), hair (he just thinks it’s neat that people can have natural beauty like that despite income), and bugs (he lived with em fine being poor, and grew to like them with Chou’s influence)

Piney starting to act weirdly just before merge was a result of Chou having started communicating with him after getting out of her side of the sim, and making him laugh with their communications that he checked out inside his suit to avoid being seen. Father and daughter bonding time! 

Yuji will continue to insist Piney had nothing to do with the Mastermind business. Often times, AS Piney, he’d flat out forget he was the Mastermind for bits at a time. Yuji didn’t have as much of a luxury once he got out of the suit, since that was by that point the turning point in him believing in the system.

Yuji’s ‘friend fiction’ was a direct continuation of his self-therapy he was using before the killing game went live, where he wrote down either memories or edited daydream versions of said memories to record  his time spent with his classmates.

Yuji’s ‘ulterior motive’ for the game, sans getting his classmates back for admittedly his own sake of mind, was tied in/hinted at with his shrine to the dead in his room. Yuji’s spiritualism is heavily balance and karma based, a give or take, and while usually it’s only supplemental to his way of living the deaths of all his classmates kicked it into overdrive. He considered such a farce as himself surviving an event that had killed everyone else he’d ever grown close to some act of destructive ‘fate’ he’d have to be selfish to attribute to only himself. While he knew the belief would never be accepted as solid science by any of the project team, he was deathly fearful that not addressing the matter would only result in the kids getting revived just to die off again should the matter not be addressed. Therefor, trying to find out what made each of the kids tick and from there pinpoint what element may have played into their deaths wound up being Yuji’s OWN experiment while the death game was being planned. This quickly fell to the wayside as the true intentions of the game became clear, but it has been addressed at least once by Morishige in her videos as she herself utilized the belief he revealed during their therapy sessions to further spur Yuji into accepting the full blame for the murder game.

Yuji’s original name was Yuiji Hatsumoto, but when it was checked with my IRL Japanese friends it was vetoed as ‘just plain not a real name.’ Yuji Matsumoto, however, is so utterly common it’s almost laughably plain. Just the way I wanted it.

Azura sent me over half of the music I have on Yuji’s playlists. My music taste is trash, guys. I’m sorry I never returned the favor Azura, you probably knew all the songs since middle school already.

There were lots of hints thrown in about Yuji being MM, subtle things about how when he panicked he’d start to feel choked and too hot, or the phrasing on the very first post. Going back and reading it all over is an ADVENTURE and what I’m currently mid doing, my dudes.

The FULL list of Yuji’s inspirations are Vincent from Catherine, Shaggy from Scooby Doo (down to the theory of him being a veteran) and Adachi from Persona 4. The last was too much of a spoiler to say, but ‘Lanky and questionable loser’ pretty much chalks it up. His Mastermind/Collective Mascot persona, specifically, was Adachi based.

I only made it this far and did this well thanks to the wonderful mods, back up mods, mini mods and unknowing support of fellow players. I’d  been looking your stuff up and admiring like a fan researching a movie franchise for a year before all this, and it was an unbelievable honor to both enter your world and get to be your guys’ Mastermind. I hope you guys had as fun of a game as I did! You guys rock, and I’m so glad I met you all. Take a breather everybody!

[lightscameramagicrp]

Welcome to Behind The Magic, Annie. We really loved your app for Jaxon Reed with the FC of Ian Somerhalder and we can’t wait to see what you do with him! Please look at our checklist and send in your account within 24 hours. We’re excited to see more of you here at Behind The Magic!

CHARACTER INFORMATION

Name: Jaxon Reed

Faceclaim: Ian Somerhalder

Age: 35

Birthday: 7th November 1984

Species: Vampire

TV Show & Occupation:

True Devotion - Stunt Double

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: abuse, alcoholism, violence, murder, death.

If you asked Jaxon what he loved most about his childhood, his eyes would nearly always roll. His answer? Not much. He couldn’t remember a time his father wasn’t drunk and his mother wasn’t crying or sporting fresh bruises from the abuse she took. Jax was only five the first time his father struck him; he hit him so hard across the cheek it knocked him off his feet and blackened his eye for days on end. The older he got, the more aware he became of the misery surrounding the Reed household. His mother had turned to medication for depression and anxiety which made her a ghost of who she used to be. His father was surely only a few years away from liver failure and honestly, he couldn’t wait for that day to come. Jaxon took it upon himself to take care of his little sister who was five years old when he was ten. He would read to her, make her meals, bathe her and make sure she got to school. It was a heavy burden for a child but Jax didn’t mind, he adored her and he tried to do what he could to stop her seeing the fact their parents were wasters. That’s why when social services finally came to take them away, Jaxon shut down emotionally. Their promises of keeping himself and his sister together gave him hope that was cruelly taken away when a couple adopted her. He was fourteen at this point and he knew that day, he’d never see his sister again. His raging hormones fueled his grief, his anger and bitterness towards adults and authority. His attitude earned him no favours and Jax remained in the system until he was eighteen and he packed his bag and left. He’d rather be on the streets than around a bunch of adults who looked at him like a lost cause.

Jaxon made his money in various ways, fighting was a big part of his income, magic was another. Growing up in foster care as a teen, teaching himself magic was only thing that kept his mind from turning against him. He’d become quite good at the basic parlour tricks and would often perform on the street for tips. He’d crash in the local shelter and keep himself to himself; this continued until he was twenty-five and someone approached him with an opportunity he couldn’t refuse. This stranger offered to house him, feed him and train him in return for fighting in a very illegal underground ring. This wasn’t shocking to Jax and he instantly agreed. As troubled as he was, it turned out to be the best decision he ever made. He saved and saved his cut of the winnings until he was financially secure enough to know that he could venture out on his own if he ever wanted to. Women, bars, fighting and magic was his whole aesthetic and he didn’t care to change. Jaxon was a big joker and he loved to spook out the tourists whenever they came close enough to him. Something as simple as making candles lights up in a graveyard on the ghost tours always created an air of fright that he silently enjoyed. He had a few friends but his life severely lacked substance, emotional connection or even a real sense of direction. The older he got the more he found himself wondering how much longer he could continue fighting for a wage. His thoughts would always drift to his little sister, wondering where she was now, what she looked like, if he would ever see her again. He hoped so but he was a realist and knew that would probably never happen.

It wasn’t until he met Sabrina that the softer side of his heart reared its ugly head. It had to be fate that had brought them together. That day she saw him spooking tourists on a ghost tour with magic, meeting in person years later showing she’d never forgotten it. Jax found himself relating to her in a way he didn’t with anyone else, though he didn’t truly understand why until one night when he connected the dots and came to a dreary conclusion. All those random bruises she sported, those doe eyes so hopeful yet full of misery, how had he not figured it out sooner? Whatever her home life was, someone was causing her pain and Jax began to itch with a fierce need to protect her. He let his sister slip through his fingers and in his mind, the day she was adopted was the day he failed her. Maybe he could make up for it by helping Sabrina? He decided to make it his mission to teach her everything he knew about magic, keep her out of her house for as long as he could, he even gave her a key to his apartment, so she had a place to run to if she needed it. He did all this without ever once asking about her home life, sometimes it was better that way, besides, it wasn’t his place to invade her privacy like that, especially when there was still a chance he could be way off about what he thought he knew. It wasn’t until she fell off the radar without a word that he started to worry. He called the local NOLA hospitals and that’s when he learned, by accident mainly, that her father was admitted. He went to visit him, ask him where Sabrina was, but all he got was a hateful speech about how much he hated her, how she deserved every beating he gave her, unknowingly confirming that Jax had been right with his suspicions all along. A vicious feeling bubbled blood and he found himself blinded by rage and holding a pillow over the mans face until he stopped breathing. With his existing injuries, a cardiac arrest had been expected and so, luckily for Jax, resuscitation didn’t work and no postmortem was ever done. He quite literally, got away with murder and honestly? He regretted nothing. He just hoped Sabrina was finally living the life she wanted, finally being free from that man.

Though he was pleased she got out, Jaxon felt her absence. He’d lost the only person he really cared for and it showed in the way his personality darkened. He became more sarcastic, more explosive and worst of all? More carefree. I say that as a bad thing because that’s what cost him his life; well, his human life. Jaxon knowingly and quite frequently ingested vampire blood supplied by his coach to heal from a particularly vicious fight. So when he awoke upside down in his car after running it off the road, drunk driving, he knew in an instant he hadn’t survived. He fed, unable to resist the need for blood and decided that night, he needed to start over. Jaxon knows he still has a lot to learn about what it means to be a vampire but with that in mind, he found himself heading to the one place he knew he’d have an old friend, Vancouver. Grant Riley used to fight in the same underground club that he did and the two became fast friends. Jaxon always tried to help Grant when it came to his vampirism even though there wasn’t much he could offer, he did his best to keep the guy grounded and now, he hopes Grant can do the same in return. He managed to land a job on the show True Devotion as a stunt double, though he knows that was probably something to do with Grant, he’s very grateful for the opportunity. Perhaps this new life could work out better than his old one, but only time will tell. Self-control has never been a strong trait of Jaxon’s and now with everything heightened, he feels very much like a bomb that’s always threatening to explode. All he can do for himself is hope that if that happens, innocent people don’t get caught in the crossfire.  

ANYTHING ELSE:

Nope, don’t think so??