The Side of Heroes and Angels


There are times when Kevin thinks back on how his life used to be. How he used to think and act. Think only of himself and act as such. How he used to believe that he was on his own and that he liked it that way. He thinks about the things that used to be important to him; money, power, recognition, image.

He looks back and thinks about how much his life has changed. He no longer thinks of himself first and only, because now he has friends. Good friends, not like the kind-of-sort-of-friends he used to have. He no longer acts like a villain or a bad guy or a mega-jerk. 'Cause if he did, Gwen would kick his butt for it. Wealth and power and fame aren't important to him anymore. Not like they used to be. He has learned his lesson about power and riches; they always come at a price. And he is no longer willing to pay it. And while image is still of some importance to him, both literal and figurative, he can't fault himself for that. Because it is no longer one of the most important things to him.

Things like his Plumbers' badge, all that it represents, of how far he has come. His car, which he built with his own two hands and earned completely and is his. And his rag-tag trio of a team. Though, he is probably the most 'rag-tag' part, with two teenagers who hardly do anything wrong except save the world every now and then, and there's him, the "juvenile delinquent" – so not juvenile, seriously, he's turning nineteen in three months.

He thinks about how close he has become with his almost-girlfriend – 'almost' because he doesn't know where they stand yet and, really, they have only gone out, like, ten times that didn't involve a mission or was interrupted by some kind of alien invasion – "Now you know how I feel. Julie and I never get to just hangout without some interstellar traveler or off-planet distress call interrupting us." That he never thought he would ever be with someone like Gwen, and sometimes wonders how he got so lucky.

He thinks about the person who has become his best friend. Sometimes wonders how he became his best friend, but realizes that Ben is the only one that ever could be his friend seeing as he spends almost all his time with only two people, one of which is his kind-of-girlfriend – and girlfriends should not be the best friends of their boyfriends, that should be a galactic law – which leaves only Ben or himself. And he would rather be best friends with a geek than be a geek by being his own best friend.

They are both more than he feels he deserves.

Sometimes he questions whether he has changed for the better, joining the side of heroes and angels where there are rules that shouldn't be broken and lines that mustn't be crossed and you actually care about – well, everyone – and it hurts when other people hurt and . . . yeah. Sometimes, he worries that this change, and the pain that goes with it, is really a bad thing.

But only sometimes. Because the benefits of being on the side of heroes and angels more than make up for the pain, most days. Friendships and relationships and trust – both given and given back – and the warm feeling in his stomach when someone thanks him for something he does and the glint of green Tennyson eyes when they smile and . . . yeah. Way better than money.

But on those few days when he questions his change and the rewards are outweighed by the costs, he thinks about the pros and cons of changing back.


"Let him go, Drata!" Kevin yells, the Galvanic Energy generator clutched tightly in his hand, a powerful device about the size of a football and the shape of a Rubix Cube but holds more punch than three fusion reactors combined and can engine any machine for ten decades without a problem, which is why the sale and distribution of them are regulated through the Plumbers. Hence why he and Ben had been sent to stop the illegal buy. It was pure coincidence that Kevin recognized the fence handling the deal. It was pure misfortune that the fence also recognized him.

"I don't believe that would be too beneficial to his health, Levin," replies Drata coolly, soprano voice surprisingly soft despite the sneer in his words. Aarin Drata, a Trekidareene - an alien with lanky appendages and four eyes (literally), but manage to blend in well with the unsuspecting populace well enough despite their deceptively slim builds hiding their true strength – an old not-really-a-friend of Kevin's and the very fence he and Ben are there to catch.

Or, that was the plan, anyway. So far, the only ones caught are Kevin and Ben. Ben in the most literal of terms.

Along with a herd of Forever Knights – the other participant of the illegal sale, who stuck around just long enough to annoy the heroes while Drata got the drop on them – Drata had gotten the upper hand on Ben while Kevin was distracted bashing two graphene-steel covered heads together, so he didn't see how it happened. But Kevin suspects that Aarin's Trekidareene saliva – which acts as an opiate to most species, humans included – had something to do with it.

Right now, Drata stands atop a second level scaffolding platform, sneering down at the grounded Kevin, a none responsive, barely conscious Ben dangling upside-down from a single, tight, long-fingered grip wrapped around both his ankles. The younger teenager's arms hang limply, the back of his green jacket draping down behind his head like some sort of cape for a fallen hero. The only sign of his continuing consciousness being his slowly blinking, half lidded emerald eyes, sluggishly flitting around but not taking in the construction zone that was the site of the illegal sale, ambush, and ensuing battle.

At least the Forever Knights decided to turn tail and run, rather than rejoin the fight. One less thing for him to worry about.

Kevin almost growls at Drata's reply, but before he can say anything in return, the alien demands, "Give me the energy generator, Levin."

And for that one moment, Kevin hesitates. Two and a half years ago, back when he was a fence and a middleman and a go-to guy when someone wanted things done so long as they had the money to pay for it, Kevin would have taken the score for his own, or else take Aarin up on his offer to partner with him. Heck, it probably would have been his score from the beginning. Everyone knew Kevin Levin dealt out goods to Earth. Aarin Drata only stepped in after Kevin left the business. The Forever Knights needed a new dealer.

One and a half years ago, Ben and Kevin wouldn't have even been sent on a Plumbers' sanctioned mission like this. Kevin wasn't trusted enough by most, and Ben wasn't really old enough.

Kevin isn't quite sure how to handle this. Under normal circumstances, he would just hand the thing over, or stall long enough for Ben to transform, but at the moment, Ben doesn't look like he'll be doing anything but twitching a finger or falling asleep. And under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have a device that, in the wrong hands, can power anything from a super fifteen slice bread toaster to a planetary implosion detonator, let alone have to consider whether or not to trade it for his best friend.

Ugh, things would be so much easier if Gwen had come too, instead of staying home to catch up on her studies. Ben told her it was fine, that they had this covered. "You just keep working on getting that three-point-nine GPA back up to a four-point-oh. This is nothing we can't handle, right Kev?"

"Come on, Levin," Drata says, interrupting Kevin's thoughts, and, apparently, going for the record of last name uses. "I'm growing impatient. You know what I am capable of. You know what I can – and will – do to your little pet here. Give me the generator."

Oh yes, he knows exactly what that psychopath is capable of. He'd had the misfortune to witness it firsthand on an unlucky few while he had been working with Drata.

This isn't two and a half years ago when the choice would be simple and automatic; when he didn't, wasn't, and wouldn't care about the consequences. This isn't one and a half years ago when the choice wouldn't have even been presented. This is here and now, on the side of angels and heroes and pain and caring and he has to choose between a device that could kill tons of people, or the life of one geeky, cocky, arrogant, funny, kind, optimistic, heroic, better-than-he-could-ever-be, teenage boy who wouldn't even have to stop and think about which choice is right.

Hmm. Maybe the choice isn't so hard after all.

"You want it," Kevin starts, before he pitches the class eight piece of alien tech halfway across the construction lot like nothing more than an unusually shaped softball, the alien turning to follow it with his eyes. "Go get it."

Drata releases his grip on Ben at the same time Kevin bolts towards the scaffolding. The alien launches off the wood and steel structure in pursuit of the device, lanky legs and Trekidareene speed propelling him far faster than a human could run.

Kevin catches the falling teen before he can hit the ground, Ben's head smacking against his concrete shoulder. Oops, Kevin thinks with a sympathetic wince. He probably should have shed his concrete coating before going to get Ben, but a thump from a stone shoulder is still better than cracking his head against the asphalt covered ground.

He lays him on the ground and taps Ben's cheek with a now bare hand. "Wake up, Tennyson. Let's see those pretty emeralds, bud."

It takes a moment, but soon eyelids half-mast lift to reveal a pair of emerald green eyes focusing on Kevin's face.

"Hey, Benji, you okay? Er, stupid question. Don't worry, that stuff should wear off sometime within the next half hour or so. Uh, blink twice for 'yes' and once for 'no', okay?"

Blink. Blink.

"You hurt?"

Blink.

"You okay? I mean, other than the obvious."

Ben's lips twitch the slightest bit before he answers with a double blink.

"Your cousin is never going to let us hear the end of this," Kevin announces, snorting in humor at Ben's rapid double blink and already hearing Gwen in his head saying "You just can't get by without me, can you?" and "I leave you guys alone for ten minutes. . ."

As Ben's eyes close again, Kevin picks him up bridal style, saying, "Come on, buddy. Let's get out of here." He starts heading to his car, figuring that Ben can sleep off the effects of the pseudo-opiate in the backseat on their drive back to Bellwood. He glances around just to make sure they are still alone.

Aarin is probably long gone now, having reacquired his precious device for a later sale. Kevin isn't too worried. The Plumbers will catch him before the next deal. And if not, oh well. Kevin knows he made the right choice. New though he may be to the side of heroes and angels, he knows enough to be sure of that.

Besides, the Galvanic energy generator probably doesn't work to well without its central processor chip – specially programmed for each machine and virtually impossible to get another one of – that is currently nestled safely in Kevin's back pants pocket, ready to be turned in to the Plumbers soon as he gets back to Bellwood.


Disclaimer: I do not own Ben 10, nor anything affiliated with it. But it would be awesome if I did.

Author's Note: I think Ben 10 may well have been my very first fandom, way back when. I started writing stories for Ben 10 long before I knew what fanfiction was, let alone that I would one day post on a fanfiction site. Most of those old stories are not very great, so having the renewed interest to write this new story for an old favorite show, it just kind of makes me smile. Glad that I am not the only one back to this old flame, huh Amy? I CAN'T BELIEVE WE USED TO BE SHIPPERS! I knew no good would come from looking at that old folder covered in the names of the aliens. . . Oh well, it can't be helped. Hope everyone likes this! Tell me how I did, huh? Everyone in character? First story for this fandom so I want to make sure everything is just right. Love ya all! Take care! God bless!

-TheOneThatGotAway99