For a long time Angela was caught in a state between waking and dreaming.

She thought she heard voices in the wind through her haze. Within her mind lay the crystal as it tried to decide how it would split itself to give to humanity, much like a person counts change to buy something at a store and finds it's not quite as much as they hoped it would be. Each of them had a slightly different spark. Angela's was the ability to fine-tune her powers to be used for first-aid, though at the cost of endurance. Andrew had the greatest strength and control out of all of them. From the interviews she'd read, Steve seemed to find the most creative uses for his power. But what about Matt? What did he get? Or, like the customer desperately counting out change, did that strange entity come up short?

Angela could only reflect on this for a short time, for her thoughts constantly drifted to other things. She would find an interesting memory or image and wander towards the thought. It was less of a dream, and more of the nonsensical things one thinks just before one falls asleep.

After a while she became aware of a wicked chill creeping through her bones and constricting her muscles. She tried to push the feeling aside and go back to sleep, but the icy feeling forced her into wakefulness.

She felt her body being placed on the floor distantly as if it was not hers to control. Angry voices filled the room in a garbled buzz. When they faded away she heard the crackling of a fire and heat flowed back into her veins.

Suddenly she she was acutely aware that she was on the brink of death. Memories of her fatal flight rushed back and she struggled furiously to open her eyes.

Darkness it seemed had seeped into the very flesh of her eyelids with no intention of leaving. Though she was now awake, she could not see or hear. She was so cold. The fire scorched her skin and she wanted to tell them to put it out and let the familiar cold come back for her.

"If you killed her Andrew, I swear-!"

"I didn't kill her!"

She wanted to sit up and tell them she was fine. The room fell silent and she realized she was looking at a fire. Cautiously, she pushed herself into a sitting position and blinked away the remaining blurriness.

Matt sat down next to to her and a volley of questions ensued. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. There was too much noise, too much light. Everything was more intense than it should have been.

Then she saw Andrew warily walk towards her.

Matt followed her eyes. "Stay away from her," he warned

"No, Matt... I'm fine. Was flying too fast. C-" she tried to say. Her tongue tangled up from drowsiness and she could tell that Matt was distracted anyway. Andrew sat down warily a fair distance away and stared deliberately into the fire.

"How did we get back?" she managed.

"He just came tumbling through the door with you. I thought you were dead."

"W- we didn't fight," she said through shivers. "I was falling... I couldn't see anymore. There was blood, and then..." She looked to Andrew to fill in the blanks.

"I caught her," he responded, his face a blank mask.

Matt stared in disbelief.

"I wasn't going to just let her fall."

"Thanks, then..." Angela said bewilderingly as she shivered, despite the fact that she was wearing her coat again. Matt got up and put more logs in the fireplace. He watched his cousin from the corner of his eye suspiciously until he sat back down. He nervously drummed his fingers on the stone floor for a few minutes before speaking.

"I can't stop thinking how easily we found Andrew. There's nothing stopping us from being followed right now," Matt said.

Angela hugged her knees and pulled the coat tighter. "Neither of us are really in any shape to fly, and I'm not making him fly three of us. Maybe we should just keep a lookout for tonight and head out in the morning."

"They could see this fire from miles away. We're sitting ducks here, this place hardly even has walls."

She shrugged. "We could very easily rip up that stone wall and line the doorways with it so the light doesn't escape in addition to having a lookout."

"I can be first watch," Andrew offered.

Matt turned to face him for the first time since Angela had awoken. "I don't get you, dude. You turn my jaw to jello and fly off, only to save someone you don't know from falling to her death and then come back and try to be all helpful by taking watch. What the hell are you playing at?"

"If you want to be the one to lose sleep, go ahead. I don't have to answer that."

"Fine, don't answer" Matt said as he stood up. "I'll seal the front entrance." He left the room without giving anyone a chance to dispute the decision.

Angela was left sitting in the firelight while the other two walked off in tense silence. Matt's face was still covered with bruises, and the visual reminder of that fight wasn't helping things. She nervously wrung the fabric of her jacket in her numb hands. It would be a miracle if they all made it back to Seattle intact with or without extra antagonists following them.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly into her arms as she curled into a tighter ball to escape the cold. It made her feel like a little kid, the way they had been sitting around the fire. Except this wasn't a camping trip. This wasn't her family. And she was much too far from home.


This is getting... a lot longer than I planned for it to be but I guess that's a good thing. I'm so glad senior year has basically no homework because I can devote as much time as I want to this.

You don't have to read this (I mean you don't have to read any of these but whatever), it's just a rambling. No spoilers though.

I was struggling to picture how this story was going to end. The big fight and whatever else goes down. Who should win? Should someone die?

That's when I realized: it doesn't matter who wins. To anyone who watched Man Of Steel, it doesn't matter that Superman won. Or in Avengers. They were fights between gods. No matter who wins, the damage would be colossal. What needs to be decided is if everyone is, you know, cool with leveling the state of Washington to ground zero or if there's another way to do all this?

So many things to think about. Don't worry though, no one is having a Zod ending. No one's neck is getting snapped.

Although I can't promise no deaths. I was reflecting on a line of text somewhere in this chapter (won't tell you where), and I uh... well I had a writer's vision and despite the fact that I'm not happy with my muse, it must be written. I'm one of those people who "writes what happens". I don't feel like I make up the story, just like I'm piecing together someone else's thoughts and putting them down in a more organized way, ya know?

But yeah. Brace yourself for the finale.

Why is it in the original movie and this fic people have a habit of falling from great heights, I'm starting to get concerned for these guys.

(*Debates shoving Cheesecake Factory leftovers in facial orifice vs writing further. A compromise is achieved.*)