Candle wax and Ribbon
She sat on the concrete of the half finished basement across from her mother. The room was black save for the localised glow of the red candles stuck to the floor with wax.
A little ways away her father was leaning against the wall, she couldn't see his face but the nervous worry was falling off him in waves.
"I don't know if I can do this honey...you're not ready." Her mother whispered in the dark her arm reaching out for her daughter. Her arm was cut open and as she moved blood dripped down onto the lopsided star between them.
"No mom." Mac reached out and grabbed a hold of her mother's hand. She may not have been blood but they were family, her mother had loved her more than everything and she loved her too, even knowing what she knew about her DNA it didn't matter. Her mother was light up in the glow of the candles and she looked pale even in their golden light. Her mother was too old for this, too old to spend her nights out there fighting whatever it was that was out in the inky night, "I want to do this." She tells her and there's a conviction in her voice that she doesn't feel in the rest of her body. She refuses to let her mother go out there and get ripped to shreds to keep Neptune safe.
"Honey, I need to tell you something..."
"Nat-" She can hear her father push away from the wall.
"No Sam she needs to know..." Her mother turns back to her her big blue eyes so like her own but still not the same. They are wide and red rimmed and this is the moment of truth.
Her parents are going to tell her.
Mac holds on tighter to her mothers hand, "No mom, it's okay.. I know."
"You know?"
"Know what?"
"I know that we don't, "She chokes up a little bit but takes a deep breath and starts over, "I know we don't share DNA, I know about the Sinclair's and the lawsuit. It doesn't matter."
Her mother is crying and she can hear her father in the dark trying to keep it on lock-down.
"Oh baby how long have you..."
"A while. But that's not what's important. Mom I'm doing this. I want you to be safe, I need you to be safe." Mac pulls the black ribbon from her mother's free hand and starts wrapping it around their clasp hands.
"Oh my baby." Her mother half sobs, her hand running along Mac's face the same way she would when she was sick. Mac can hear the pride in her voice and it swells something in her chest.
This isn't something she wants to do, she looks down as she wraps the ribbon around her mothers open wounds, this is something she needs to do.
Latin spills out of her mothers mouth and with the words the flames flicker, "Meam do vobis: Filia mea. Tueri turbare volentibus magni nocte quietem." The ribbon gets hot around her arm and it feels like something is pouring into her, "Meam do vobis: Filia mea. Tueri turbare volentibus magnir nocte quietem."
Her heart is beating faster than she's every felt it before, it's like it's trying to run away and maybe it is because this makes no sense to her logically. Nothing has made sense since she found her mother unconscious on their back porch. Bleeding and unconscious was not a look she liked on her mother.
The ribbon is burning and melting into her skin and she thinks she's going to be sick, that she's going to vomit right there all over the Elder sign. She clamps her mouth closed with her free hand because she can't imagine vomiting on a protective sign is going to end well.
"Sam?" her mother asks a silent question and she can hear her father move around the basement looking for something. She doesn't look away, can't look away as the ribbon slides off her mothers arm and wraps itself further up hers, all on it's own, it's passing to her, all this unquantified power is surging through her veins like too much caffeine.
The ribbon is all the way off her mother now and her mom leans forward and places a soft kiss on her forehead and with Latin words she can't quite hear starts to blow out the candles in a meaningful order. The last candle is extinguished and her father flicks the basement light on, a bright bare bulb and she can see that the ribbon is once again just a ribbon.
Everything in her body is lurching forward looking for an escape.
"Sam quick!" her mother yells and in a flash an empty ice cream bucket appears in front of her and she looses her breakfast lunch snack and dinner into the thing. Her mother's hand rubbing soft warm circles on her back, "It's okay baby," Her mother is kneeling next to her while she can see her father brushing away the sign emblazoned on the cement in fat side walk chalk, "I threw up to."
Her father kneels down next to her as well and pulls a stick of gum out of his pocket for her, "I'm so proud of you sweetie." He grabs the back of her head and kisses her forehead his thumb rubbing into her hair, "Get a good night sleep tonight, I want you to stay home tomorrow so we can practice."
"practice?"
"If my little girl is going to go out every night and fight those...things I'm going to make sure you can handle your weapon." he kisses her again and stands leaving the smell of tobacco and salted sunflower seeds behind.
She wants to tell them that she can't, that she has a mid term review but somehow her mid term doesn't really seem all that important now.
Practice consists of driving an hour and a half out of town, away from the coast into the countryside to Aunt Frankie's farm. A place she's been too all of three times in her life. Aunt Frankie is sweet but on edge and a little too gun happy for Mac's taste, but if she knows about the things a lot of that makes perfect sense.
She's her mother's sister and she wonders as they sit around the kitchen table drinking tea and talking quietly about the state of things, if Frankie also fights monsters.
"You in the family business now short stack?" She asks with a good natured smile on her face and Mac's eyes are pulled to the dark coloured ribbon braided into her hair.
She nods and her father rubs her shoulder.
"Our little Cindy practically demanded it."
There is pride and worry in her fathers voice and she can barely look him in the eye.
"You want to start her on the range Sammy?" she asks and all she receives in response is a curt nod, "You know where to find everything, I'll be in the back field until 11 come back to the house for lunch, I'll have something whipped up for our little rabbit." She laughs warmly and leaves the room.
"So Aunt Frankie is...she..." Mac swallows a hot gulp of her tea and tries again, "She's like mom?"
"Yeah...come on Champ lets see how much work we have to do."
They walk to the range in silence, Mac is too busy trying to tie her hair up with the ribbon to be a very good conversationalist and her dad has never been a big words man. She feels his arm on her shoulder several times, steering her around particularly deep gopher holes. When she finally does look up she has to do a double take.
"Dad...this is a gun range..."
"Good eye." he's making fun of her a little and it lightens her lead stomach.
"Dad I can't..." everything in her is seizing up, her body feels heavy and a fear is shooting through her that is unreasonable. A gun means killing something, and she can't even eat a burger how the hell is she supposed to end something.
Her father grabs a hold of her shoulders and turns her to look him dead in the eye, "I know this is hard Cindy. I know it is and it isn't going to get easier for you. It was never easy on your mother either but what you have to do, what she's done since before I knew her, it's important. It saves peoples lives." There is a fire in her fathers words and it is pushing away the fear in her, pushing it away from the core so it's only sitting on the edges of her, "These...things they want to devour the world and everything in it."
Mac nods and stands looking at the targets on the other end of the field.
Her father stands next to her just a little behind her looking at the target as well.
"I need you to think about a gun sweetie, imagine it in your mind, something that you can wield, something that will take that thing out."
She closes her eyes and focuses on a gun, and what comes up in her mind is the orange and grey plastic monster from duck hunt. She could swear that she can feel the weight of it in her hand. The long barrel, the easy trigger, and the skill at which she would use it, she can feel the heat of the ribbon in her hair, the pulse of power.
"Is that from the Nintendo?" Her fathers voice breaks her concentration and she looks back at him and he nods to her hand and as she lifts it to her face she can't believe it but it's right there in her hand, in all it's orange and grey plastic glory.
"Uh yeah..." she can feel a heat in her cheeks and is more than a little embarrassed by her choice, "It was the first thing that came to mind...is it okay?"
There is certainly no denying magic now as much as she may want to, as much as she wanted the marks on her mothers arm to be from some unruly neighbourhood dog, for the ceremony last night to have been a coke and pixie sticks induced nightmare. There is absolutely no denying that she just materialized this gun out of fucking nothing.
"It's fine if it works." She can hear the smile in her fathers tone more than see him, "I at least know you know how to use this gun." he concedes and she feels a little better about herself.
She sets up her shot and imagining the little ducks squeezes the trigger.
There's a deafening crack and both Mac and her father stager back.
Mac looks down to the literal smoking gun in her hand, her body is humming and she pulls her head up to look at the target...it's gone.
there's a smoking crater.
"Christ."
A low whistle behind her brings her attention back to her father, "That's my girl. I don't think that'll be a problem... a little loud thou." He tells her with a smile a finger in his ear as if he can dig out the ringing.
A laugh bubbles out of her and she shakes out her hand somehow knowing that the gun will just disappear. She can feel the ribbon gain length she hadn't notice had gone when she did so, it's warmth resting further down her neck.
"Can you practice for a little bit, I'm going to go talk to Frankie." He smiled softly and it warmed her. Who knew that becoming a monster fighting magical girl would bring her closer to her family like this. She nods and watches him disappear around a old burnt out shed before she turns back to the range.
The gun comes quicker this time, she practices making it appear and disappear, a flick of her wrist and a sharp focused thought and bam it was there. She focuses on more precise shots, quieter, less flash and bang more practical.
She is after all a bit of perfectionist.
After a lunch of farm fresh vegetables, Mac is sitting in the back field with Aunt Frankie. Cross legged waiting for...something to happen.
Her father is back at the garage fixing something or other for Frankie before they leave this afternoon.
"You must have a lot of questions." Frankie breaks the soft comfortable silence and Mac is a little sad for it. It's not often that she gets to just sit in a field and enjoy nature. Normally she has to wait until family bonding torture vacation.
Mac nods and finds herself absently running her fingers over the black silk ribbon in her hair.
"If you stare too long into the abyss Cindy...sooner or later it stares right back." She says with a tired fear coating her words that makes Mac think that maybe Frankie can feel the abyss staring at her right now. Her Aunt isn't looking at her, looking out at the horizon at something that she can't see. Something almost shimmering at the end of the world.
A cold chill runs through her body and for a moment she can feel something unseen looking right at her. Right into her, where is has no right to.
"We stared into the abyss?" She asks voice quiet and quaking.
There's a small smirk that pulls across her Aunt's face, "And we pay for it every night, in blood."
Her Aunt stands and a small breeze tosses her braid into the air and the ribbon glows like black light, she reaches out her hand to her and Mac feels compelled to take it, "Welcome to the fight girlie." The smile is suddenly bright, "Lets see what you got in you." Mac jumps a little as her Aunt pulls her roughly to her feet.
Mac blinks and her Aunt is in a different outfit, dark black pants, knee high boots, a wife beater hugging her slight curves and a leather jacket. She looks like she should be in a comic book, fighting heroes with lazer sight not out here in the field staring down at her in a very intimidating fashion.
Frankie lifts a hand and between her index and thumb pulls the ribbon easily from her hair. The long black thing flows gently in the afternoon breeze and her eyes are drawn to the easy flow of it, like the thing is made of water or air or something not quite solid. With the flick of her wrist the oozing thing stands straight out, bright and she can feel the heat of it from her position several feet away. She could see the thing gain a razors edge.
Her aunt's arm makes a quick arch down towards her and Mac has to jump back in order to keep herself out of the blades way, it cuts right through the space she used to occupy with a murderous purpose.
"Frankie!" Her name rips from Mac's throat as the older woman advances on her and Mac keeps jumping back out of the way with all the grace of a wounded gazelle, "Aunt Frankie stop!"
A cruel smile pulls at her aunt's lips, "Make me Cindy." there is no warmth or comfort in the woman's tone any more, any family love has seemingly been tossed out the window and the empty look in her Aunt's eyes scares her to the core, almost more than the magical blade she keeps trying to slice through her personal space.
"Stop!" Mac yells and she pulls the ribbon from her hair with a forcefulness brought on by fear and desperation, "stop it!" She can feel the heat of the ribbon burning her, she flicks her wrist and the ribbon gets sharp and straight and blade like and she conjures up all the sword skills she knows...none...she jumps back again from the heat of her Aunt's weapon and this jump is graceful and she can feel the long blades of grass on her skin.
Looking down at herself quickly she sees her clothes shift and change.
Holy shit an honest to god sailor moon transformation! God please don't let me get naked
A black skirt ruffles into existence across her hips, just above her knee and she can feel more than see her Meat is Murder t-shirt shifting into something more form fitting.
Her Aunt doesn't pause in her attack for her to complete the transformation so Mac ends up running away from her through the field, blade in hand while a black knee length dress shifts onto her form. There are tears in her eyes as she runs with purpose away from the barn, away from her father and further into the field, hoping to god that this 'lesson' will all be over soon.
She takes a quick look back and her Aunt is approaching rapidly in a way that doesn't make sense for anything that has legs, it's a smooth almost flickering advance and Mac's chucks hit a rock in the field and she tumbles down into the long grass, her body splayed over the hard obstruction.
She can hear the slice of grass as she clamours over the obstruction. It's soft and a sudden fear echoes across her body at the idea that she's fallen over a dead animal.
She turns to look at the thing and a scream rips from her throat.
Frankie.
Aunt Francis is laying dead in her own field, eyes wide, a look of fear etched on her face, frozen in midst of a scream for the rest of eternity.
She reaches out tentatively and the body is ice cold. Whatever greeted them this morning like family is an intruder. They are all wrong and she can't stand that she didn't even notice.
She stands up on shaking legs the breeze pushing her hair around and the sea of uncut grass waves and not Frankie stops 'her' advance. A smile pulls across her face and it's too wide and too filled with sharp teeth.
"Ickle Cindy ready to play?" The thing sings in her aunts voice.
Mac's hand closes tighter around the blade and she can feel it cut into her, bite into her skin.
Her jaw set she steps over her Aunt and launches herself toward the creature.
"Go back to hell!" She yells and she can feel an odd power in the words and the blade in her hand heats up. The not-frankie rushes out to meet her and she manages to cross her blade in front of her just in time for the creature's to slam into it, skidding up the blade with a metallic scrape and spark as Mac pushes the blade away with a force she didn't know she was capable of. She slams her foot into the things side and sends her flying. Sprawling down into the too tall grass.
Mac jumps, her chucks slamming down hard on either side of the creatures middle and with a righteous outrage she screams out, it's a feral sound she didn't know she was capable of.
The not-Frankie squirms beneath her at the sound.
"Go to hell." She tells the thing her voice fierce and clear and resonating in the air around them sharp and clear and powerful and she plunges the blade down into the creature.
The blade slices the creature like butter and in a burst of energy the thing loses its form and explodes into a cloud of blood and gore that just hangs off her. Of course she'd end up with a realistic death, she's turned into sailor frakkin moon and she gets monsters that explode into gore rather than disappear into ash or just disappear.
She looks at her hands and there's blood and black gore all over them and she drops to the ground and looses her lunch, her stomach lurching and with burning throat she loses any trace of food she'd put in her because Christ she's a murderer.
She'll never be able to say she's a pacifist again, she's tainted, stained, as if she wasn't broken enough to begin with and the tears of exertion turn into proper tears because everything she's been working 19 years to become is completely undone.
A good fifteen minutes later her father finds her in the field, machine grease all over his hands and jeans and he drops to the ground and pulls her into his arms.
"I killed her..."
"Shhh angel it had to be done..." He's rocking her back and forth and she can feel her clothes shift back again but she feels gritty and dirty and she's sure she'll never be clean again.
Throat and eyes burning her voice is a hoarse mess, "I'm a murderer..."
"No. You are a hero Cindy." She can hear in his voice the love and determination, he sounds like he means it, it sounds like she's his hero but she feels like a monster. But maybe it takes a monster to kill a monster.
A/N: the latin means as according to a tiresome adventure with google translate is supposed to mean: to my daughter I give the power to slay those that would disturb the rest of the night. What it actually says I bet is gibberish or a dirty joke or something. I just really wanted a semi serious AU fic about magical girls. Next chapter should be a little more light hearted and will include Dick. Hope you liked the start. I've been emptying out my cellphone/computer/email of my stories so I hope you'll forgive me for not completing another chapter of Commitment Buffers or Electrify both of which are in the works I swear.