Disclaimer: I do not own Wizards of Waverly Place or any characters from the show. Of course, this is a work of fiction.

This story is rated M due primarily language, violence, and abusive situations and themes in upcoming chapters.

This is a very different story for me. I've never written on this potential scale from the first person (Alex's view point). I would be hugely grateful for any reviews or suggestions for plot. And as always please feel free to private message me at any time for any reason.

If you want to learn more about my writing or me check out my profile.

Aunt Megan seems to be a virtually unknown/unwritten character on this site so I've decided to write a story focusing on her and the Russo siblings. This story will start out slowly and quickly build up so if you aren't entirely sure where I'm headed that's ok. You won't have to wait nine chapters in to understand what is happening.

I'll let you guys and girls be the ultimate judge of how successful I am in this new venture.

Lastly thank you to a couple special friends, stepsteptrip, AnnieMJ, bodysoul-D, and Ad3n couldn't have made it this far without you guys. Love yeah!

Thanks for the patience to read the long authors note. Now, on with the show!

Chapter 1

"Alex, Justin, Max Russo, report to the principle's office immediately for dismissal. That will be all." The secretary announces via the intercom system. The fact that the proclamation is broadcast throughout the entire school is lost on me. I also fail to detect the subtle hint of desperation and urgency in the voice.

Internally I am thrilled at the development. It is a great opportunity to escape the math exam that I am just beginning. Of course I saw no point in studying or anything so my chances of doing well are about as slim as Justin not doing what I am currently; failing.

Quickly I shove the various books and notebooks into my backpack. I can sense the grins and snickers behind and to my sides from my classmates. Everyone knows that the principles office is like a second home to me. They, and likely the teacher too assume this is one more occasion only perhaps somehow involving my family too.

Who knows, who cares? I'm free! I hand in my vastly unfinished test to the teacher and with a nod sends me my way.

My mood cannot be better and I trot happily into Mr. Laritate – the principles office. My brother's Max and Justin look at me curiously and I shrug. They are as clueless as I am. The pair likely assumes that this has something to do with me. Just because I cause mayhem and chaos doesn't mean I do so on this degree! Give a girl some credit here!

However, unlike the boys I can instantly tell something is wrong. The tension is palpable. That is when I notice the police officer standing by the principle. That can't be good. Sure I may push and bend rules but even I have a concept of what is too much. Frantically I begin to search my mind from my most recent pranks and tricks. Nothing comes to mind so I rapidly become indignant.

Before I can even open my mouth to demand an explanation we are being guided into an already running police car. The blue and white lights flash as the three of us wordlessly sit in the back seat waiting for an explanation.

The cop's partner turns to us while the other is driving. Sadness and tension is in his eyes as he speaks. "Kids, I'm afraid there has been a terrible accident. Your parents have been in a dreadful accident. They have been rushed by trauma helicopter to Bellevue Hospital intensive care burn unit. I'm supposed to bring you there as quickly as possible."

By now the sirens are on full blast, traffic is scrambling to make way but none of it matters to me. Time seems to stop as the shock of the words sink deeply into my brain. Seconds pass by like hours as the realization hits my terrified. Instantly a hand goes to my heart. The other clenches Justin's hand tightly.

Justin and even Max too are in startled shock. Justin is as pale as a ghost. I'm sure I do not look much better. To my surprise and even greater relief Max is the one who speaks first.

"Are t-they… are t-they going to be ok?" Max does his best to maintain his confidence but his voice echoes his feelings by its' wavering.

The officer meets Max's gaze first then Justin and lastly mine. He sighs deeply as if building up courage. "I sincerely hope so." He offers another weak smile while Justin and I exchange a glance.

I've made it a skill to read people and I can he tell he is holding back. My response is darker, hollow and emotional. Words escape my mouth, my head still reeling. "How bad?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know I wasn't a responder but from what I've been told, it isn't good."

A fist connected with my stomach once so hard that I coughed up blood before passing out. I felt that way now. The elation from beyond is long gone and with nothing else to loose I rest my head against Justin's shoulder. I don't even bother to wipe away the tears. His hands only clasp my more tightly as he ushers Max into the hug with his left arm. The rest of the ride is silent. All of us are lost in thoughts and praying that our lives won't be ruined forever.

As soon as the car stops I open the door and race inside. Justin and Max are hot on my heels. I guess the cop sitting in the passenger seat expects this and follows behind. He doesn't even allow his partner to catch up.

The three of us dash up to the information desk and begin yelling at the poor woman behind it in a confused, jumbled heat of emotions and fear. Lacking any sense of speed the officer once again proves his prowess by guiding us along the mazelike corridors.

I expected us to go into one of the many waiting rooms but instead he took us directly into a private room. Or rather an office I should say; one that is meticulously decorated with great taste, and respect for color and quality furniture. An expensive looking replica of a Monet hangs on the wall. Ordinarily I would have been intrigued and gone closer to inspect it further. To me now it looks nothing more then a muddle of mud splattered on some cheap paper.

I suspect a setup. My gut says everything is wrong. Total and utterly bat-shit wrong and I refuse to sit in another one of those obnoxiously expensive chairs.

Another man walked through the door. He is dressed in a suit not scrubs unlike everyone else I have seen so far. I'm not sure whether to interpret this as a good sign or not but I try to quell my nervousness. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt. Anything to keep myself occupied away from the present.

Worse yet his expression is one of pure business and lacks emotion of any sort. I hate these types. I can never figure out what they are or there agendas. Apparently it doesn't matter because he gestures for us to take a seat. I am in the middle with Max to my left and Justin to the right. At a nod the officer goes to the far end of the room and stands next to the doorframe.

With no one saying anything I am automatically on edge. All of that is about to change as the suit reaches over and gentle shakes each of our hands.

"Please to meet you all. I wish the circumstances were better." He sits down at the chair to his desk. He takes off his classes too and for good measure wipes his forehead with a piece of white material pulled from a suit pocket. From the shine of his skin it is clear that he is anxious.

That does not help me at all. Now I'm well and truly frightened. My nerves get the best of me and I finally let them loose, half yelling as I stand. "What happened to them? Are they going to be ok? When can I see them?" My clenched hands slam onto the wooden desk roughly.

For once in a long time brother, sister and brother stand united in determination to uncover what has transpired and what everyone so fears to tell us.

"You're parents were traveling northbound along the highway." The man in the suit carefully explains. "A southbound fully loaded petroleum tanker lost control and passed through the median and guardrail. Their vehicle was sideswiped and forced underneath the truck. The tanker was punctured, ignited and exploded. Despite the strength of the fire we were able to rescue your parents at the scene." His voice is quiet and calm despite the intense feeling of stress in the air.

I look up at Justin for help. He is far more knowledgeable about these kinds of things and despite the pain he is in I am able to see his brain working quickly. "Give it to us straight Doc. I'm tired of all this run around. I'm sure Alex and Max feel the same way." Both of us quickly nod our agreement.

Another sigh fills the room from the white lab coated man. "Both are in critical condition. The fact they are here at all is amazing. But the outlook is not good. Most people believe that there are three categories of burns. First, second and third. In truth there is fourth degree as well. First is the equivalent of sunburn and affects the outermost skin layers. Second is more painful and goes deeper. It usually causes a bad redness or blistering.

"Third is worse. It involves the near to total destruction of skin and nerves. The person likely wouldn't feel a thing at the time assuming it was a sudden injury. For example a sudden spill of boiling water on your hand or arm. The body has little if any way to protect itself from infection at the wound site. If large enough skin grafts are usually required.

"Fourth is by far the worst, rarest and goes beyond third. In this case the burns are so deep that they reach muscle, tendon and bone. Little if any surrounding tissue is left to protect what is left. Most of the injuries to your parents are third and fourth. I don't know the percentage of burns on their bodies but in all actuality it doesn't matter. The outlook is very grim. They have sustained massive injuries.

I don't care about the details and from the look on Max's face he is clueless but I can tell he is troubled. The boy is trying to be strong but from the wavering jaw I know it is but time before the tears come free. Once more I wrap my arms around my brother. His head quickly finding a place between my shoulder and neck as moist droplets rain from eyes not my own.

"There is no real solution for fourth degree burns since every case is different. Even if they do make it they face huge challenges. As I said infections are a great threat, but so is dehydration and even starvation as the recovery process proceeds just because their bodies are using up so many resources simply to get better."

I didn't know how to respond. One would expect to be shouting, yelling, screaming, and collapsing into a heap of limbs, hair and tears. Surprisingly we stand united. I know that from the grips that I am getting from my brothers that they are just as traumatized as what words are mentioned.

Justin seems to be following the doctor's words closely and from years of torment and torture I have learned a lot about him. I may be just as clueless as Max but I can see from Justin's body language that whatever is being said is not good. One of his hands, the one not grasping my own is fisted tight enough that I can see thin slivers of blood trickle downwards.

I too don't have to look down to know that my knuckles are white and my nails are digging into palms not necessarily mine. And none of us care. I'm silently crying. I feel incredibly sick, nauseas once more. I think Justin and Max do too because suddenly all three of us are clinging to each other for support.

Quiet surrounds us for a few minutes. Each of us are left to our own terrifying, fearful thoughts mixed with bits and pieces of hope before the phone rings on his desk. The nameless man before comes around the desk and it up. The few words spoken give us no clue to the conversation that lasts but a mere thirty seconds.

His facial expression changes deeply. I don't need to be told what happened. My intuition and body gave me all the indications to me moments before.

"Kids. I am so sorry for your loss. Your mother and father have died from their wounds. Despite our best efforts, we couldn't revive him. His sorrow and sympathy is undeniable but is nothing compared to what I, to what we are feeling.

And then one by one starting with me I let the tears fall. I can't look up at Justin. I don't want too. I don't need too to comprehend the crystal droplets hitting the floor.

The room is eerily quiet, dangerous silent for a family to have received such news.

Max is the first one to speak and he looks up at Justin. The crestfallen broken, clenched jaw appearance on his older brother is enough to give the youngest Russo his answer but he presses for conformation anyway. "Are they… you know… gone…?"

My heart lurches with each word. I feel like I am going to faint and I fathom that Justin cannot answer so I do. "Yeah Max… there…there…" I can't complete the sentence as I fall to floor allowing the tsunamis of pain to overcome my normally stone solid defenses. Arms of my remaining family surrounds me in blur of movement, tears and shared anguish that squeezes my heart like a vice.

That evening we were fortunate. A close couple to our parents upon hearing our plight rushes to our aid. That saved us from spending a miserable dreary night in the hospital and with a social worker lauding all over us. Instantly offering their home to us for as long as we needed.

Although gracious for there hospitality it was difficult for all of us. There were times one would begin to cry only to set off another. It was a cycle of misery that continued.

Of course the accident made all the headlines local and state. For all I know maybe even nationally. How often does a tanker truck explode on a crowded highway?

The 11:00pm news that night was no exception. I was mostly pushing what little food was on my plate. Not that I had a lot to begin with. I simply had no appetite or will to eat. However my attention was diverted when the announcer began to talk about the accident. Even going so far as to offer film courtesy of a news helicopter.

"…The section of highway will remain closed through tomorrow to allow accident reconstruction crews the chance to determined exactly what happened that resulted to the two identified victims. As a courtesy to the family the names are not going to be released. However it does appear that fire investigators have discovered the remains of a third person…"

I shoot a glance to Justin and then Max both of them wide eyed, fear and tears returning quickly. Who else could we have possibly lost now?

Coverage of the accident continued for a minute or two right before the station prepared to break into advertisements.

"…Such a terrible tragedy and yet it could have been so much worse," the male announce says.

The female nods in agreement, "I know to have such a terrific explosion yet impact only one vehicle, the immediate surrounds and some grass and bushes during rush hour traffic. It is almost as if someone with a magic wand was watching over everyone else out there. It indeed is a miracle that so many more were spared. Of course, our greatest sympathies go out to all those affected by this horrible disaster."

Deep in my heart I didn't need any announcement to know who the third person was. Tears were already streaming down my face as I began to cry again. Instinctively I reached for Justin and Max once more. One face pictured in our collective heads besides our parents: Uncle Kelbo.

He is the only explanation. As erratic and insane as his behavior may seem at times he is rather intelligent. He also has a heart of gold just like our parents. I do not need any expert to tell me what happened.

In my head for whatever reason I can picture the tanker truck losing control. Our parents are in the front seats, my father Jerry driving. Theresa, our mother in the passenger seat next to him. There is no way either of them would trust Uncle Kelbo to drive a car in the first place. What is even more puzzling is why he got into the car with them to begin with when he could have used magic to zap, poof or transport or teleport them wherever who-knows-where.

In the end I guess it doesn't matter because upon seeing such a massive vehicle with such an obviously dangerous load I know that Uncle Kelbo is the one who sent the truck into their car. He is the one who enacted the winds or shields or whatever it was to protect the other people on the crowded highway.

I can only guess how long he had to do all that he did but it must not have been enough because he certainly had the skill and capability to teleport my parents away. Trade three lives to save a hundred. I'm almost certain that is how the brief conversation turned out between my mother and the two brothers. She always has the final word.

I can't get angry with any of them for the sacrifice but at the same time what I'm I suppose to do? I needed my parents. We all did. Even Justin, the oldest of us needed the guidance that only they could offer.

And so I cry. I cry for losing of everything that happened in the course of the day that forever changed my life. I cry for my Uncle. I cry for my Mother. I cry for my Father. I cry for my brothers I cry for all my hopes, goals and the shattered future I fathom won't happen in the way I always envisioned in my dreams.

I cry from uncertainty. I cry because I don't know what will happen or where we will go. So many questions lie unanswered and all of them scare me to the core. Yet through all this pain, all this misery I realize that my family has dynamically changed. My brothers and I are now bound together in a way few can comprehend.

Everything inside is torn asunder and wants to give up, curl into a ball and run until I can't run any further. But those who know me best know I don't do that. As much as it hurts, as much as I cry, as much as I may wish for the day to be different I know tomorrow is a new day.

With tears in my eyes I lie back on my pillow reflecting, dwelling deep into memories of those I love that I have now lost. I know I am a misfit, a rogue and rebel. Perhaps that is my destiny in life I don't know. But it is who I am and deep inside my parents sensed the goodness and kind-heart I have inside.

As exhaustion overtakes and I snuggle under the covers a strange sort of peace settles over me. They may be gone in the physical sense but my heart tells me differently. I know that they are watching over their beloved daughter and her brothers with pride and devotion. That somehow together we will overcome this tragedy stronger then before.

My eyes are already closed and I am nearly asleep when just barely I feel what are soft lips upon my warm forehead. The same spot my mother always touches before brushing the last errant locks out of my face after I have had a particular difficult day. It is a ritual started when I was barely old enough to walk and always ends with her wishing my good night.

Almost as if a whisper on the wind together I see the combined faces of my parents with Uncle Kelbo and hear the voices of those I cherished so much. "We love you Alex."

That is the last thing I remember before sleep takes over a smile on my face. Sadness replaced with inspirational hope.

I'm honored that you have taken the time to read this and I'd be even more so if you took a couple minutes to review and offer feedback. Writing the conclusion of this has come after two and half days of no sleep. If there are huge glaring mistakes please point them out to me. I will be going back at some point to edit more fully when I can see and think straight.