It's only been two days since I last updated, but updates are going to be really fast now-- I'm so far on the third part of this trilogy. I've written ten chapters already this month. And I'm happy to say that the loss of my obsession (which has actually come back here recently, since I got FANG and all) has not, in my opinion, made my fan fiction any worse.

I woke up in the middle of one night with a parched throat. I got up and reached for my crutches, then remembered that Iggy had deemed my ankle healthy earlier that day, and I was good to go. Reveling in my freedom to walk on my own, I walked out my bedroom door with a skip in my step.

As I passed the twins' room, I heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. I paused and stepped back, pressing my ear up against the door. And then I heard Devin's whisper. "Gracie? Gracie?"

There was a pause, and then Gracie yawned, "What?"

"Are you okay?"

Furrowing my brow, I pushed open the door, wondering why Gracie wouldn't be okay. I saw Gracie in her bed, looking up at Devin, who was leaning over her. They both looked fine, and I mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Guys," I whispered, startling them both, "what's going on?"

Devin shifted his gaze away from mine. "Nothing."

"Devin," I said sternly, "tell the truth."

He sighed and rubbed his neck, looking so much like his dad it almost made me smile. Then: "I had a bad dream."

My heart stopped, then started back up again. "What-- what kind of dream, sweetie?"

"Gracie was standing there, and this wolf thing went up to her and grabbed her, and--"

"Hey!" Gracie interrupted as I mentally started freaking out. "That's just like my dream!"

"Well," I said, quickly changing the subject, "do you want to sleep with me, Dev?"

He opened his mouth, his lips poised to say the word yes, but then he glanced at Gracie, snuggled up in her bed and falling asleep again. A look of what I can only describe at protectiveness crossed over his face, and he shook his head. "I'll stay in here."

"You sure?" I asked gently, putting my hand on his shoulder, touched that he wanted to look after his sister.

"Yeah."

So I tucked him in and kissed both of the twins, told them I'd see them in the morning, smiling the whole time. As I shut their door behind me, though, I felt the tears rushing up, and I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle a cry. And I ran to the room of the only person I wanted to be with, my thirst long forgotten.

"Fang," I hissed, shaking him. "Wake up!"

"What?" he asked, sitting up. "What's going--"

I hurled myself into his arms, burying my face in his chest, and started sobbing. This had never happened before. I had not shed one tear three years ago, the first time these dreams had cropped up, or when they had returned a couple months ago, or even when I ultimately had to leave my whole family because of them. Now, though, I had been pushed too far, stretched in too many directions. I was at my breaking point.

"Max," Fang whispered in my ear, lifting me into his lap and continuing to hold me tight. "What's wrong?"

"Fang," I said, my voice breaking. I took a moment to gather myself, and then went on weakly. "I'm scared."

I couldn't remember using that word before. Ever. Sure, I'd said I was worried, concerned, even freaked-- but never scared. It sounded foreign as it slipped off my tongue, like another language I could barely speak.

"Why are you scared?" he said softly, rubbing soothing circles between my wings. Even though his voice was soft, I didn't miss the alertness in it-- he knew that if I said I was scared, it was bad.

I started mumbling and stuttering like an idiot, cursing myself because I couldn't entirely understand why this had me in tears. Seeming to understand me, like always, Fang slowly laid me down in his bed, then pulled the covers up to my chin and tucked them carefully around me.

"Do you want a drink or something?" he asked after he had kissed my forehead.

"No," I muttered, pulling on his sleeve. "Just stay with me."

He didn't need to be told twice. With my fist still closed around the fabric of his shirt, he slipped under the covers and curled up beside me. For a few minutes, we lay with no sound around us except my occasional hiccups. When all my tears had been shed, though, Fang whispered, "What was that about?"

I swallowed. "Devin had the same dream Gracie had. Where she died."

As much as he liked to pretend he didn't, I knew Fang still had some of his old paranoia in him, and the way he stiffened and tightened his grip on me proved it. "Was he in it this time?"

"No," I said. "Just her."

He looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything.

"Maybe they're just after her, and not Devin, for some reason," I mused. The thought should have occurred to me earlier, but I suppose I'd been too hysterical to think straight. "Maybe… maybe it's like before. Maybe I need to leave to protect--"

"Max, no," Fang said sharply, grabbing my chin and turning my face up so I was looking right at him. "You don't need to leave. In fact, we need you not to leave." Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to the tip of my nose. "You cannot do that to me again."

I sighed as his hand found mine beneath the blanket. Stupid Fang and his stupid ability to use mushiness to convince me. I wasn't giving up, but… I guessed I could leave it alone for tonight. "Okay," I said finally, and snuggled closer.

He nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck, and, in a warm breath that washed across it, murmured, "Go to sleep."

"Okay," I said again, and did just that, forgetting all about the dreams.

Sort of fluffy filler. Sort of foreshadowing, too, if you remember Becoming You and Me… hint, hint…

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