I think the sister relationship is one of the most important relationships in Wynonna earp, and I wanted to explore that. This fic comes mostly out of wanting to read fics of Waverly's past and Waverly as a child and not finding any (write what you want to read right?) Warning, this is quite sad, I didn't necessarily intend on it being sad, but the Earp sister's past is sad as it turned out? Warnings for violence, abuse, alcohol abuse.
I've been working on this for a while, it's introspective and an exploration of memories/feelings which was different to write, but I think it turned out well? Hope you enjoy it!

Wynonna was six years old when she first met Waverly. Waverly's tiny fingers curled around Wynonna's own finger, and as Wynonna looked down at her, her face wrapped tight in a soft, blue blanket, and a fire started in Wynonna's eyes. She knew right then that there was a piece of Waverly in her heart, there was nothing she wouldn't do to protect her.

Her mama brushed Wynonna's hair out her eyes, looking down from her place on the bed, and smiled at her, her legs awkwardly crossed. There had always been a part of Wynonna's mama missing, but right then she was a wisp on the breeze, her body sat there, but she was fading into the grey hospital walls. She could never look Wynonna right in her eyes.

Daddy and Willa were in the car, wrapped up in big coats, frowning at the hailstones. Years later, Wynonna would tell Waverly the world sent a celebration for her birth, a thousand small fairies tap dancing on the roof, honouring her presence, and she would giggle, hiding her face in the pillow.

But for right now Wynonna's daddy was getting angrier by the day, his brow furrowed as he knocked his hands against the wheel of his pickup truck and Wynonna was willing to bet it wasn't the unusually bad August weather. And Willa didn't want another sister, she was clear about that.

No, Wynonna knew from the very start that Waverly was hers.

Wynonna's parents had always fought, but she was seven the first time she saw her daddy hit her mama. She saw her mother rise, her face red, but her eyes steely, narrowed, a brief reprise from the sadness, a laser beam through the fog. It was as if she were seeing her mama present for the first time. Present and angry. Wynonna would remember that look, three years later when she saw her mother pack her bags, kissing her two daughters on the head (Willa refused to be in the same room), turning, and disappearing into the snow. As the years passed Wynonna would wonder whether her mama had ever existed, whether she'd always been just a figure of fog. Wynonna's thoughts in that moment though, weren't of her mama, they were of the baby upstairs, her tiny face sleeping against the white cot, cheeks flushed pink, and a head full of brown hair, softer than silk. Even then, she was as peaceful as the wind. And no person was going to disturb that peace, not if Wynonna had anything to do with it.

Wynonna took to sleeping on the floor in Waverly's room, one hand pressed through the bars of the cot, Waverly's tiny finger clasped around hers, just checking. She woke up in the middle of the night, the moon big and bright out the window, and watched her breathe, just to make sure. Like a shepherd watching their flock, she watched Waverly, protecting her from the wolves of the night.

She hid from her daddy, pretended to sleep in her own bed. But her Mama caught her once, her two tiny girls embraced in sleep, and Wynonna saw a small tear slip from her eye, running like moonlight down her cheek. And when she leant down, placing her hands down on Wynonna's shoulder, rather than shouting at her like Wynonna was afraid of, she just said softly to her; she's yours baby girl, make sure you look after her.

Wynonna kept her words in her heart as she watched her mama disappear into the snow, pulling Waverly closer to her. She's yours baby girl. All yours.

Her mama was always disappearing but when she left one final time, Wynonna would carry Waverly out of her bed and into her own, cradling her as she cried herself to sleep, softly stroking her hair, a sliver of moonlight shining over them as she wrapped her arms around her.

She always hid Waverly when her daddy came in in the middle of the night, dragging Willa from her bed, and out into that dark night, out into the same snow she'd lost her mama to. And Wynonna would flinch every time she heard a gunshot, like the bullet had gone through herself. Like each shot took a part of her sister. She held Waverly closer, wide awake. She never slept much anyways.

She saw Willa once, head leaning against the peeling wall paper, tears streaming down her face, her tiny hands tangling themselves together, over and over again. Willa saw her looking, and Wynonna gave her a reassuring smile. Willa climbed into the bed besides Wynonna, crying as Wynonna stroked her hair. The three of them together, for the first and last time. Willa started to get the look Wynonna recognised all too well, distant, in the clutches of the fog and the snow.

She made a vow that her daddy would never lay a hand on Waverly.

But her daddy only got grumpier after her mama went away. He started using his fists on Willa and Wynonna rather than their mama, a swipe here, a knock there. Wynonna learnt to fear the footsteps in the hallway.

Wynonna would hide Waverly any place she could, above the beams in the barn, under the bed, out in the forest. She would be safe, no matter what it took.

Waverly was too young to understand what was going on. "It storming again?" she would say, staring up at Wynonna, her eyes wide as saucers, her thumb dangling half out of her mouth, her toy rabbit dragging behind her, ears flopping in the snow.

"Yes, baby girl, it's time to hide." She'd say, taking Waverly in her arms, "Time for the big adventure." And Waverly would settle into Wynonna's neck, her arms curling around her back, her bobble hat brushing against her face. And everything would be worth it.

The time Wynonna's daddy started coming home late, drunk, passing out on the sofa, was the same time Willa was always gone. She stayed away as much as possible, locking herself in her room, or hiding out, sleeping at school. Distant even when present, which was rare. Wynonna didn't blame her. Wynonna had dreams of packing a bag, letting Waverly climb on her back, of taking them somewhere better, of traipsing through the snow, and finding a new world over the hill tops. Half of the time she didn't believe there was somewhere better.

Instead, she took Waverly's hand, took her to the library and the park, made sure she didn't see her daddy passed out, made sure she made it to elementary school, made sure she did her homework and always read her a story before bed. On Saturdays she would take Waverly to the supermarket, running through the aisles, pushing her up and down in the cart, letting Waverly check things off the list she would make on the back of the bills her daddy never paid. Margaret would look down at Wynonna, her hair un-brushed, her clothes not quite fitting her, a ten dollar note scrunched in her fist as if she were afraid someone would take it from her. And then she would look at her tiny sister, perfect hair and clothes, always a smile, hand held firmly in Wynonna's, and there was a sadness in her eyes that Wynonna recognised now. The pity.

"Here alone again, sweetheart?" She would say, and Wynonna would nod, handing over the money. (The money was never enough to cover what they needed, but Margaret never told Wynonna that, taking the rest out of her own money.)

One time Wynonna started a fire trying to cook spaghetti, and Waverly's cries woke her daddy up. He was drunk and all fists, throwing Wynonna onto the front porch as she told Waverly to run. Waverly hid in the reeds for hours before Wynonna found her, scrunched up and crying. Wynonna clutched her arm to her chest, but let Waverly climb on her lap anyway.

It's okay baby girl, it'll all be okay.

When Wynonna went to the hospital, the woman at the desk looked down her nose at her, tilting her head and scrunching her eyes.

"Do you have a guardian with you?"

"He's in the car," (he wasn't) "I can do the forms." (She couldn't, but she could try)

She took the forms from the counter, taking Waverly by the hand, sitting down in the corner of the room, amid the drunks and the elderly. As she waited, she told Waverly stories of faraway places, places where the sun always shined, and no one was ever hungry. Waverly would smile and Wynonna was getting more restless by the day.

The man in the room stared from Wynonna to Waverly and back again. And she stared back. He gave her a sling, and some medicine, and then pulled up a chair, looking at her square in the eyes.

"Is this your sister?" he said, his voice soft, but Wynonna could hear the tones, he wanted something, they always did.

"Yes." She said, pulling Waverly closer to her.

"And do you take care of her?"

"I do a good job." Wynonna spat, a fire in her eyes, the same steely stare she had seen from her mother. "She's mine."

A week later Gus was on her way, and Wynonna clung onto Waverly extra tight. Their father was angry, throwing things around the house. Wynonna hid in the attic with Waverly, tears quietly streaming down her face. She heard Willa scream and she covered Waverly's ears, rocking her back and forth and singing the same old song her mama used to sing to her as a child.

Little donkey, Little donkey, On a dusty road, Got to keep on plodding onwards with your precious load, Been a long time, Little donkey, Through the winter's night, Don't give up now, Little donkey, Bethlehem's in sight.

She heard a crash downstairs, glass smashing. She put Waverly down.

"Stay here." She said, but Waverly clung onto her, following her down the stairs. Wynonna saw three men, all in black, carrying her sister through the window, her white night dress ripping on the glass. Three shadows in the night, carrying their light away. Wynonna hid Waverly behind her, the gun shining on the table in front of her, her daddy being carried away.

The gun shook in Wynonna's hand, silver against the moonlight. Wynonna didn't feel scared, or angry, just cold. She pointed the gun at the dark figures, shut her eyes and pressed the trigger. When she opened her eyes, she was left with nothing but the dark night, her father's body slumped against the dust floor, and Waverly hugging onto her leg. A tiny fire against the cold night.

Wynonna fell to the floor of the porch, Waverly leant against her side, an arm thrown over Waverly's shoulder. Wynonna's tears mixed with the dust that had never been cleaned from the front porch. And as she stared directly at the body, she felt a stab of guilt, because she didn't feel sad, she felt relieved. And she wondered, if, in the heat of the moment, she had aimed that gun at her daddy and meant it. If she really was what her daddy had always believed her to be; no good, a dark soul.

Wynonna and Waverly were in the exact same position when Gus found them. Two small girls, entangled together on the front porch, and a dead body on their front land.

Wynonna didn't remember much of it, she remembered being hugged, a blanket being throw around her, she remembered the way the police station smelt, the dust balls that hugged its corners, and she remembered pulling away from a man with grey hair and a warm smile. She remembered kicking and pushing until they left her alone. And she remembered, clear as day, her screaming as they took Waverly away, clutching onto her tiny sister, her baby girl, as they took her to a separate hospital room.

Gus held her, Wynonna kicking and screaming until she stopped, sobbing into her jumper, becoming still, the last 24 hours running through her veins.

"It's okay, love, the worst is over." (It wasn't.)

A week later, Wynonna stood by two coffins, one much smaller than the other. There was less than ten people there as they lowered them into the ground, and none that Wynonna recognised. The priest said words Wynonna didn't believe in, and that she didn't wish for her daddy. Light words where she only saw darkness. Snow began to fall from the sky and Wynonna pulled Waverly's hat further over her ears, in case she was cold. She felt as numb as the snow that fell, just cold and nothing else, her mind not quite in sync with her own actions.

Later, she sat in the corner in the armchair, in a house that she half recognised from a visit years ago, but that she didn't trust all the same. She held Waverly tight in her lap and didn't speak to anyone. The snow fell thicker out the window and Waverly turned to her,

"Can we build a snowman?"

"Of course, baby girl."

Gus watched from the porch, watching Wynonna's face light up as she pushed the snow ball around the yard, letting it get bigger and bigger. Wynonna pulled the hat off her own head to place it on the snowman, chasing Waverly around the yard, before catching her, both of them falling in the snow. Their faces turned together, their smiles matching.

When Wynonna started high school she would cut class every day to make sure she was there to pick Waverly up from school. All the other mums would stare at her, her hair unkempt, too much eyeliner and her favourite biker boots, but Wynonna had never cared what people thought. Any judgement was worth it for the moment that Waverly came running out of school, drawing in her hand, and the biggest smile on her face. Wynonna kept all of Waverly's drawings in a file under her bed (albeit a file she stole). Gus had found it once, smiled as Wynonna slept, her face looking younger as she slept than it did during the day. At peace.

The day Waverly asked Gus to take her to school rather than Wynonna, her heart broke a little. She smiled, got her backpack and went to school, but as soon as she got to the gates, she just kept walking, hitching a ride to the beach and staring at the sea. She was starting to understand why her mama disappeared, why Willa avoided the house, she could feel the fog, its long claws, grasping her, trying to drag her down.

Wynonna started to stay out later, always coming home drunk, or not at all. She never went to school, and when she did she ranted about demons, both real and fake, she acted out, she hit people and threw things, and wrote all the wrong answers on purpose. She stopped looking after Waverly, she stopped playing with her and asking her how her day was. She'd lock her door and climb out the window, she'd ride off on motorcycles, she'd be arrested for drunk driving and possession. She was a regular at both the police station and the ER.

She was not okay.

Gus knew that, but she still could never shake the image of betrayal on Wynonna's face as the black car pulled up, as she was submitted to the psychiatric ward. Waverly never quite forgave her. She grew more distant by the day, getting that same look her mama used to get, as if she wanted to get away, disappear.

Wynonna only came home on occasion after she got out of the ward. Waverly never asked where she'd been, and Gus stared disapprovingly from the kitchen as Waverly tucked her up on the sofa, an old stitched blanket over her shoulders, and a full glass of water on the side of the table. Waverly would kiss her softly on the head, sitting to watch her from the old armchair, an old show in the background, before Gus would insist she'd go to bed. Waverly would present Wynonna with breakfast, and they'd talk and chat and laugh and Wynonna would leave. And Gus would see Waverly, night after night, her eyes shifting to the clock.

The bond between them was unbreakable. But sometimes Gus wished for Waverly's sake she could break it. She hated seeing her heart break, time after time.

Wynonna started coming home every couple of months, breaking through the barrier of Gus, her arms folded and a stern look, to see Waverly, only growing more radiant of the day, her hair long and plaited like Wynonna had always wished she could do for her as a child. And they'd laugh as if she'd never been gone at all, Wynonna taking her for a ride in whatever her vehicle of the month was, music playing loudly as they careered around the streets, earning scolds from Nedley. But he never stopped them. He knew better than most that the Earp girls needed all the happiness they could get.

Wynonna inherited their daddy's love for whiskey, and she would dance around the bar, running wild and dancing with any man who would have her. But she always returned to Waverly, with a wink and that classic fire in her eye, spinning her around the dancefloor, grinning until Gus came to get them.

To say Wynonna didn't approve of Champ would be an understatement. The first time he came to the household, a little before Waverly's sixteenth birthday, she stood in the doorway, arms crossed the way she had seen Gus do so many times before.

"Is Waverly here?"

"Who are you?"

"Champ ma'am. Champ Hardy."

"And what's your occupation?"

"I um- go to school?"

Wynonna looked him up and down. She wanted to send him packing, but seeing Waverly's face light up as she turned the corner, she moved out of the way, letting her climb into Champ's truck, waving back at Wynonna with a grin. But Wynonna still couldn't help the sinking feeling she got as she saw them drive away.

"Don't they grow up fast?" Gus said, knocking Wynonna on the shoulder, and offering her a glass of whiskey. "You did good kid," she said softly, smiling.

Waverly would check the post every day, pinning up every post card Wynonna sent her. Before long her walls were overrunning with places she'd never been, the Grand Canyon, the leaning tower of Pisa and the black forest. Sometimes she'd stay awake late at night, imagining all the places she'd never get to see, imagining the big wide world outside. But both of her sisters had flown away, and Waverly had made a promise to stay. Her wings were clipped.

So, she did everything she ought to, to keep the fog at bay. She stayed at home, looked after Gus and Curtis, worked at Shorty's three nights a week, signed up for online courses, hung around with Champ and what little friends had decided to stay in Purgatory; and in her spare time, she researched everything she could about the curse. It made her feel closer to her family, gave her a semblance of purpose, stopped her from going crazy, stopped her from watching the mail and driving right to the edge of purgatory, sitting and staring at the sign and wishing for more. It kept her able to focus on mundane things like the locals at Shorty's and the bi-monthly cook outs out on Tom's old field.

When Wynonna got the call, she was arguing with the hotel staff who were trying to take her room away from her, because she 'trashed it' and was 'too loud'. She turned her back and shot a middle finger, stepping out into the sun that was too bright, to answer the phone that was too loud.

As soon as Waverly started to speak, Wynonna froze, all the hustle and bustle slowing around her. Her heart hurt, as if it recognised the voice as part of itself, as if it were trying to stretch, to reach out to her again.

Uncle Curtis died. She could tell Waverly was crying. The funeral's next week. Hope you can make it.

She hung up before Wynonna could say anything. Wynonna didn't think she could have said anything anyway. She felt frozen, still, a coldness creeping into her bones, fizzling against the sunburn. She felt as numb as she had on that day all those years ago, snow billowing around them and Waverly tucked into her side. She'd been running from that feeling for years.

She'd been running and running for years, dodging reality like a bullet, living in the sun and confining her past to the shadows, so it could never find her.

And now she was going home.

Wynonna hadn't intended it to be Champ she threatened. Truth be told she didn't even recognise him, wasn't even sure she'd ever took a good look at his face, and that was years ago. How was she expected to know?

But the moment she saw Waverly, gun in hand, something inside her snapped. As if her heart was trying to escape from her chest. She was so much taller, stronger, a different person entirely to when Wynonna left. But her smile was exactly the same, flushing sunshine to the edge of the room, and her head tilted the same as when she was younger, back when Wynonna was her guide. Wynonna guessed she had gotten a little lost, fallen off the path.

In that moment, she knew she wasn't leaving again, even if her legs longed to run, to keep moving. As much as she twitched to get on her bike, to feel miles of road stretch out in front and behind her, she couldn't do it. Her heart had spent years looking for its missing piece, and Wynonna would have to learn to stay still, to face her past straight in the face (even if she did shiver the first time she stepped into the Earp homestead again). But it was worth it for Waverly, it always had been.

She threw her arm around Waverly's shoulders, she's all yours baby girl. Wynonna had gotten lost along the way, but she was dedicated to keeping her the promise she'd made to her mama now. Waverly leant into her side again.

There was something about the way Waverly looked when she said it, that reminded Wynonna she'd missed half of her life. She was no longer the small girl who'd hid in the barn roof and was afraid of the dark, Wynonna had blinked and missed it all. The woman who stood in front of her was fully grown, twice as mature as Wynonna would ever be. And Wynonna knew straight as Waverly said those words, that she meant it, she felt her heart stretch in time with Waverly's;

"Please, I love her."

And there was nothing Wynonna wouldn't do for Waverly, now and forever. There was a piece of her inside that little girl, and she could see it in the spark of her eyes now. Nothing else mattered, she handed the gun over, as if there was ever another option.

Wynonna wasn't sure whether the bar was dark, or whether she was passing out from the pain. A single light swung above her, and she felt detached from her own body. Her hands gripped against the sides of the pool table. Nothing was going to plan, not that Wynonna had really planned for any of it to happen, or planned for anything ever, as a matter of fact. Still, when she'd thought about giving birth, she'd never imagined she'd be on a pool table in a middle of a bar, accompanied by a girl she barely knew. She felt another contraction, ripping her, her head knocking back against the table. She squeezed Waverly's hand, the one thing that still made sense to her. Waverly was hers, and this baby belonged to the both of them. That much she was certain about.

Waverly handed the baby to Wynonna, wrapped up in blue, the same colour she'd first seen Waverly wrapped in. The baby girl cried, stretching her arms out as if reaching for Wynonna and when Wynonna saw her she knew she was hers, she felt the same love kick start, the same spark building in her eye. She knew this baby was hers, the same way she'd known Waverly was hers all those years ago.

Waverly leant by the table, and Wynonna reached out for her hand. Waverly was just as much a part of her as the baby, but then she'd always known that.

"This baby is all ours, baby girl." She smiled, watching as Waverly cupped the baby's face.

"Welcome to the family little one." Waverly whispered.
Wynonna pulled Waverly closer to her, their three heads huddled together, three hearts beating in time. It may not have been the most conventional family, but it was all Wynonna's, and that was all that mattered.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought!
Also my tumblr is waverlystation if you ever want to just chat :)