Hello my favorite readers!

I apologize for my absence – I unexpectedly got hauled away across a few state borders over the weekend, leaving me with little time and no Internet access. Or computer access of any kind.

AKA, no update.

I would have written it after, but I've had two projects, two AP class tests, and a literary analysis paper to write.

AKA, no time.

But here is a small one, to satisfy your thirst (if you have it) and carry you on.

I've received the question of whether Fang likes Angel romantically.

The Answer: Uh, NO. That relationship creeps me out (but to each his/her own, I guess). When Fang says he loves Angel and fights for her, it's in a protective, father-to-daughter kind of way. He has raised her practically her whole life – he's pretty much like her father. This relationship mirrors the one Max had with Angel at the beginning of the series, before things went screwy with Angel.

No screwy Angel here, though.

This chapter is going to be more of a look into Fang's past than actual plot progression. It's an insight into how Fang became… well, Fang, in this story.

Another thing I noticed was how people didn't really see the touchy subject hinted at in Chapter 8. He was abused, yes, but it was thetypeof abuse that was touchy. See if you can figure it out with hints from this chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing I own. Hail J.P. Chapta 9!


FPOV

I sit down in second hour English, waiting for the class to start. As usual, I am one of the first people in the room, because I stay out of the way of others.

Of course, the peace can't last.

Enter Max clones 1, 2, 3, and 4.

Oh, and Max. I figured it was implied that she came in also, since Max clones revolve around her, held by some foreign girly gravity I'll never understand.

I don't really want to deal with them today, so I stare at my notebook and try to drown out the world.

However, by focusing on nothing, the bugs-crawling-up-my-skin feeling comes forward ten-fold, causing my mind to flash back to Mom's night of victory.

It is like I could feel her hand everywhere, but I couldn't stop her, couldn't move, couldn't scream and cry and beg her to just beat me like she normally did.

I felt… violated.

And now, I feel like everyone can see that.

But, once again, I remind myself it's just in my mind.

Reluctantly, I refocus on the Max clones conversation.

"Oh look, Fangie is paying attention now," Clone 1 says.

"Isn't that peachy, Clarissa? I mean, he must have so much more interesting things to do – like, get beat up, faint, and be a wuss in general," Clone 3 says.

"That must be, like, soo time consuming," Clone 2 says, snickering cause she thinks she is clever.

I finally speak to them, falling into the game. "Wow. Time consuming. Four syllables total. Big words for you."

"Go to, like, hell!" Clone 2 says angrily.

"I would, but the reservation is under your name. Sorry," I reply.

She screeches angrily and starts to reply what probably would be a lame comeback, but Clone 4 intervenes.

"That's because hell thought your name was a joke. What kind of name is Fang anyway? Sounds like one a little girl might name someone – right before they get hit by a truck and die."

At this I whirl my head around and glare at their group.

Then I focus my glare on Max, accusing her.

She told them.

She told them.

She knows how personal that is. I trusted her with that, and she fucking spilled the beans.

Now I know why she apologized yesterday – guilty conscience.

But Max has never flinched from my glare. She has always had some impervious shield that protects her from it. She usually glares back – and her glare is pretty wicked, too.

This time she flinches, which confuses me. It's not like she felt too guilty, or she wouldn't have spilled the beans. Something else –

No. I don't care. She is piece of crap, and that's all.

My accusing glare increases.

Her brown eyes open wide, pleading. "Fang, I swear, I didn't –"

"Tell us all your secrets – just most. We pretty much know everything about you, don't we, girls?" Clone 3 finished.

Max's face is one of astonishment. "No, I didn't tell them anything –"

"Stop lying Max. We, like, know this, so you, like, had to have told us," Clone 2 says.

Clone 4 continues, "So how'd it happen? Little Miss Suzy-Q or whatever get on your nerves? Did ya push her into traffic? Did ya bite her with your "fangs", and she ran into traffic, preferring death to you?

"But I forgot – it wasn't your fault, Fangie. She just skipped into the road and you forgot to tell her a truck was about to hit her –"

"SHUT UP!" I scream, furious.

The room falls silent with my outburst.

No one has ever seen me give a reaction. Especially one of this magnitude.

But they don't know – they don't fucking understand anything!

I spit out each word with cold fury in a hushed tone, gradually growing louder till I'm screeching. "You don't even know, you crazy bitches! You don't know a damn thing about my life, about what I go through every single day! You don't know how it felt to lose her, knowing every day after that you could have saved her, blaming yourself for not protecting her! You'll NEVER KNOW!"

And then I punch Clone 4 in the face.

Her nose gives a very audible crack and faces the right now.

It starts bleeding heavily.

"OW!" Clone 4 hollers, trying frantically to stop the bleeding.

Before the rest can even mutter a sound, I slam Clone 2's head into the desk nearest her, knocking her unconscious. As soon as she starts to slump down to the floor, I roundhouse kick Clone 1's chest, and she goes flying into a wall.

By this point, Clone 3 is standing in utter terror, unable to move.

"I'd start running like hell," I tell her in a deadly tone.

She sprints.

Max is left, staring at me as if she is surprised. But under that look, she holds a concerning gaze.

"Fang," she says quietly, "I didn't tell them. I promise. I don't know how they found out –"

"Max, I really don't care how they found out, from you telling them or from them searching your entire house for a diary, but some way or another, they found out, and –"

"Fang, stop!" she says with more authority. I glare in her direction, daring her to keep going.

Her gaze softens. "I don't care about them right now… or ever again, even. I never realized their bitchiness extended so far."

She walks toward me, and I freeze in place, apprehensive, still furious and bewildered, but shocked and depressed by the memories.

"I care more about you right now. Are you okay?"

My mind is screaming at me. "Don't let her manipulate you too! She doesn't care! She is a lying, unfaithful bastard!"

But still, I find myself whispering my true feelings. "No… No…"

I feel a tingling in the corner of my eyes, and my throat feels like it constricted. Sadness swarms my system.

"Dang it," I think, "I'm going to cry. Not here, not now…"

Max looks over at the few other people in the room. "Out. Now. Distract Mr. Tamor with Clarissa, Jodie, and Kia's injuries. Make sure you take them out and down the hall, though, so he doesn't come in here," she orders them.

They gather the Max Clones and flee, shutting the door behind them.

I go to the window and stare out at the stormy skies, which reflect my mood like a cliché. My thoughts are swirling too fast, filled with memories of that day, of Lily, of the look on her face as she bled on the street…

I hear rather than see Max come over to me. She hugs my shoulders and says, "I'm sorry," saying how she was sorry not only for this moment but the one haunting my thoughts and many more.

I can feel my shoulders shake as the tears finally fall, my emotional barrier broken down by now, as I relive that moment…


Lily and I were playing on the sidewalk by Iggy's house. We were playing with Iggy, but he went inside to use the bathroom for a moment.

Lily was Iggy's neighbor and was my best friend, along with Max and Iggy, of course. I was only 9, and Angel wasn't born yet, Mom wasn't a druggie, and Dad was still alive.

"Nick, you need a nickname! I mean, we call James Iggy, and you guys call me Lily."

Lily's real name was Lucierona Beth, but we called her Lily because of her fascination with the flower. She would take Iggy and me on hunts through the park and through town just looking for them.

"I have a nickname," I replied. "It's Nick, short for Nicholas."

"Not that kinda nickname," Lily whined, "a real nickname. One that doesn't refer to your real name but describes who you are."

I raised my eyebrows. "What do you have in mind?"

"Hm," she said, studying me. After a moment of silence, she said, "Fang."

"What?" I asked, bewildered. "How'd you come up with that?"

She gave me a smile. "Well, dogs have fangs, and you're like a dog, with your shaggy hair and everything!"

I snorted. "Thanks. I'm going to have a name because I'm canine-like. Great."

Then, her expression grew serious. "But like a dog, you're loyal, and lovable, and protective of those you love. You know how to cheer me up when I'm sad or how to make me laugh. You're the perfect companion."

I stared at her in wonder, not understanding where such insightful words had come from… but really, really liking the nickname now. Fang.

It sounded tough, like the kind of name a dark, brooding silent person would have. A name that I was already starting to grow into without realizing it.

Lily suddenly smiled. "…but mainly because you look like a dog."

I grinned and playfully leaped to tackle her, and she nimbly leaped out of the way, shrieking with laughter.

"Don't! I hate it when you tickle me!"

I smiled wider. "That's why I must do it. Revenge!"

With that, we commenced a chase, running across the yards and sidewalk.

I got close to her again and lunged, but she narrowly managed to dodge my hands.

"You'll never catch me, Fang!" she shouted, still laughing.

She leapt onto the road.

The truck drifted out of the opposite lane.

"Li-" I tried to scream.

The truck hit her as she looked back at me.

The truck ended up crashing into the mailbox nearby, on the other side of the road.

Lily lay on the ground, a pool of blood pouring out around her skull, her eyes open wide.

Still looking in my direction.

"LILY!" I screamed.

But the person with said name didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't blink.

Her eyes just looked at me blankly as she lay dead.

I don't remember what really happened next. I knew Iggy's mom came out. I think I was hysterically screaming, crying maybe, not realizing she was dead, that it was my fault.

"You'll never catch me, Fang!"

"You'll never catch me!"

"Fang!"

"Fang…"

"Fang…"


"Fang!"

I snap out of my reverie, gasping as reality settles around me. I am back in the classroom, staring at the wall, curled down on the floor. Max is squatting next to me, her hand shaking me.

"Huh?" I ask oh so smartly.

"You… were mumbling. 'I couldn't catch you, I couldn't catch you.' You …started screaming. I had to shake you out of it," Max replies softly, looking concerned.

"Sorry," I say, and I quickly wipe the tears of my face, standing up.

Max stands up as well. "You're gonna leave, aren't you?" she asks, knowing the answer.

I give her a curt nod.

"…I'll cover for you," she says, and then walks toward the classroom door. As her hand is about to touch the knob, I speak out without warning.

"I forgive you, Max."

She whirls around, her eyes wide.

I look down, and continue softly. "But that doesn't mean I trust you. It's going to take some time to trust you again."

She nods, her eyes sad. "Okay," she whispers. "Okay."

Then she leaves.

I open the window and leap outside, running. I am not sure where I am going, but I have to leave the school, have to get out.

When my feet finally stop, I see I am at the entrance to the cemetery.

Silently, I travel the familiar path to Lily's small tombstone. I stop in front of it, staring at it.

"I couldn't catch you, Lily. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, choking up on the last part.

But I stop myself from breaking down yet again, and instead say a small prayer. Then, I travel away, not sure where to go, but I do know I am not going back to school.

It doesn't do any good to cry, or scream. They don't stop someone from beating the crap out of you. They don't stop your best friend from dying. They don't bring that friend back to life.

Action does.

So I walk away, leaving behind the memories, the hurt, and the blame.

I take only the fact that my name is Fang.

Because that's what Lily wanted.

And I owe her that much.


This chapter is dedicated to Details in the Fabric (feat. James Morrison) by Jason Mraz.

I know I kind of ventured off from the revenge idea, but this idea popped into my head. Not to mention, people always give reasons why Fang is called Fang, and they usually revolve around him liking vampires or having a biting fetish when he was little. I mean, they're OK ideas, but I believed, knowing Fang's deep character, that the meaning behind it is more significant. More meaningful, to be redundant. Plus, this really explains Fang's character in this story, and I even added some plot progression after all, between him and Max.

Not to worry – Jasmine isn't going away quite yet. I have more in store.

R&R?

The button is lonely. Just tickle him. Down there.

keepgoingkeepgoingkeepgoing
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There!