A/N: I've had an idea in my head for about two or three months now about Reaver meeting Sparrow and/or Rose when they were children, and this is how it turned out! (Well, just one variant of the idea, there is a second idea where I may actually write a story about it...)

Reaver had only visited Bowerstone four times in his lifetime, and each time was more unpleasant than the last. He couldn't help but think that the statement held true for his fifth and current visit. He didn't try to hide the sneer that made its way to his face as he walked through the dirty and poorly-made streets. The man didn't care if his face showed his disdain for the filthy people who probably only bathed a few times a year. The thought made him cringe.

Why was he even walking through this town that was practically spilling shit from every open window and door? Oh yes, he needed to walk through here to get to Bowerstone Castle. How bothersome.

His thoughts grumbled that he should have demanded Lucien meet him at Bloodstone Mansion instead. Reaver was above these lower class people, and the only time he interacted with them was when he needed someone to fuck and when he wanted to shoot something. Other than that, he didn't like to mingle with them. They were rather boring, after all.

Out of nowhere, a child roughly shoved passed him, and not a second later, Reaver was holding his beloved gun to the nasty creature's head. Another second passed and the man was confused with himself. Why was the child not laying dead upon the ground? Why was there no blood running over the cobbled streets?

Oh.

He hadn't pulled the trigger.

Reaver watched as the child looked up, nervousness and fear the most obvious features that flitted over their face. The vain man inspected the child that was standing before him and instantly came to the conclusion that they were an orphan. That, or the people of Bowerstone did not take care of their children, which also wouldn't have surprised Reaver in the least. Dirt and bruises marked the small face, disheveled and greasy hair claimed the top of the head, and ragged, smelly clothing covered the nasty creature's body. Reaver also couldn't help but notice that there was something... odd, about this particular child.

Reaver pulled his gun away and placed it back into its holster, not wanting it to become contaminated.

The child, which the man deemed to be a girl due to the pink coloring of some of the clothing, looked ready to make a run for it. Unfortunately for her, Reaver knew what she was planning and clamped one of his hands down on one of her forearms.

"It's rather rude to run into someone and not apologize," he hissed, digging his gloved fingers into her bony arm. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard a small sound of pain leave the girl's lips.

When no response was made, Reaver narrowed his eyes, "you have three seconds to say something before I rip out your tongue. There's no use in having one if you don't make use of it."

"Hey! You there!" a feminine voice called out, "get away from her!"

Turning his head to find the source of the voice, Reaver spotted another girl who appeared to be around the age of fifteen, and while the man was momentarily distracted, the child in front of him decided it was time to act. She swung her foot up, making contact with the vulnerable area between Reaver's legs.

He almost instantly fell to his knees and doubled over, which made his grasp on the skinny arm go slack, giving the girl the opportunity to get away from the man. Still bent over and quickly becoming angry, his arm quickly shot out and caught the girl's ankle with his hand. The child violently tugged her leg away from him, but to no avail. Growling from anger and pain, Reaver gave a harsh squeeze to her ankle and he both felt and heard the crack.

Reaver was amazed to discover that even with a broken ankle, the filthy creature only uttered a small sound of pain like before. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head slightly, and before he could react, a boot-covered foot savagely slammed into his face, breaking his nose.

Immediately letting go of the child's ankle, both hands went to cover his bloodied face. Tracing his fingers over the bridge of his once perfect nose, he could feel a misalignment, and he had only two thoughts running through his mind:

One, these children are going to die a most slow and painful death, and two, everyone in this town is going to have a bullet in their head if my nose is permanently disfigured.

Reaver stood up to his full height which towered over the two girls' heads. He was more furious than he had been in years, and as he pulled out his gun, he saw-

He saw that the older girl had will lines running through her skin, glowing a blue so faint that he would have missed it if she was just someone walking by.

She was a Hero. Were they both Heroes?

This new discovery made him pause, and a wonderful idea popped into his head. His annual sacrifice to the Shadow Court was coming up, and it was a rather tedious chore that he did not enjoy doing. He always had to deal with the sobbing fools after they lost their youth, but they didn't usually get to complain for long because he always shot them immediately after the ritual was done.

Reaver inwardly sighed when he recalled the details of the agreement between him and the Shadow Judges. One soul for one year of youth, but this agreement never mentioned anything about the soul of a Hero.

The man couldn't help but wonder... just how much was the soul of a Hero worth?

A/N: There will be a second part to this, but I have other obligations at the moment, so I do not know when it will be posted. :/

Also, I haven't played Fable II in at least four months, so I'm worried that some of Reaver's personality may have slipped...