Alan Tracy was not hiding. He wasn't. He just wanted some time to himself to…well, think. He didn't need the well-meaning Council members asking if he needed to talk, or for his brother to know that he did need to talk but didn't actually want to. He just needed some time to come to terms with having actually, physically, personally killed a man.

It was a lot.

So he snuck into the medical room at the Council School, because it tended to be rather quiet in there. Other-John was still sleeping, kept in a medical coma because he couldn't seem to control his psychic powers enough to actually heal from a month's worth of torture. He was bundled up in a bed in the corner, lots of wires and tubes connected to him, and looking pale and wane and very, very young.

Alan let his gaze move off his not-brother, and to the cage in the corner, where a giant wolf lay. They'd all been surprised by the fact that Other-Virgil hadn't turned back once the sun had come up, but Jordy, who was the resident werewolf and cousin to the seemingly famous Oz, had said that wolves with the most control could stay shifted for the three full days and nights of the full moon. And shift at will whenever they wanted. Other-Virgil, despite being a new wolf, seemed to have control in bucketloads and hadn't wanted to go through the change again due to that month of torture he'd had to endure.

Instead, the wolf was bundled into a cage made of strong steel, and gently muzzled for the time being. It wasn't that the Council doubted his control at all (there was no reason to doubt him, since he was a full wolf and undoubtedly in control), but Other-Virgil was injured and in pain and they didn't want any accidents. Other-Virgil didn't seem to mind the muzzle or the cage, seeming to be quite content with the mattress and pile of blankets they'd given him, and one of the Slayers was actually a vet in training, so he was getting the care he needed, IVs and all.

Other-Virgil didn't look young only because he was massive as a wolf. He was curled up, his familiar brown eyes half-lidded and tiredly watching as Alan moved into the room. Alan gave him a soft smile and turned to the last occupied bed.

Amber eyes were watching him from there too.

"You look like Allie," Other-Gordon rasped from where he was lying, more tubes and wires connected to him. He looked pale and pained and tired, but much better than he had before. He was awake, for one.

"That would be because I am Alan," Alan answered with a shrug. "Not your Alan, of course, but a different one from a different world." He climbed up onto the bed next to Gordon. He wasn't worried about hurting his not-brother; he'd done this same maneuver many times in the past and he'd been a lot smaller and clumsier then. "Hello, Fishy."

Gordon frowned, his face scrunching up a little. "You have a Gordon too? One who likes to swim?"

Alan grinned at him, a little tired, but still happy to talk to this version of his brother. Even if this Gordy was incredibly small and hurt. They were the same age right now and that wasn't weird at all, right? Not after everything else they'd been through. "I do. Loves the water more than the land. Especially more than space, weirdo that he is."

Gordon stared at him, a little bewildered. "You like space?" He was clearly fumbling for clarity at the moment.

"I'm an astronaut," Alan deadpanned. "Of course I like space."

"You're like…fifteen."

"Sixteen, thank you," Alan huffed, rolling his eyes. "And I know I'm young. Youngest astronaut ever, actually. But hey, I passed the training and I get to pilot Thunderbird Three. Scott said so."

"Scott said so," Gordon repeated faintly. "What's Thunderbird Three?"

"My rocket," Alan shrugged. "We're a family of search and rescue operatives. I'm generally in charge of space missions with Johnny as second in control there. My you is Thunderbird Four's pilot, our submarine. My Gordy is our aquanaut."

Gordon scowled then, eyes dropping. "Yeah? Good for him. I'm freaking paralyzed and never going to walk again."

"Says who?" Alan asked, frowning. He remembered this anger and despair, if a little fuzzily. Nine-year-old Alan had known that Gordon was hurting, but hadn't had much ability to help at the time, other than hugs and reading stories to his bedridden brother. (And that one time, sneaking in the turtle he'd smuggled from the mainland and getting caught by John and…yeah, that was a story for another time.)

"Says the doctors," Gordon nearly spat out. "All I ever wanted was to go to the Olympics and now I can't even stand up on my own."

"Who cares what they think?" Alan asked back, raising an eyebrow. "They're just doctors." Gordon continued scowling at him and Alan sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He was glad that he'd taken the time to change out of his uniform and into the jeans and t-shirt combo he was now wearing, even if HEMERA was still firmly in place on his arm. The uniform, although rather comfortable (thank you Tony) wasn't the most breathable piece. Thankfully it was machine washable, though. "Look," Alan said, "my Gordon wanted to compete in the Olympics too, you know. When he was a little younger than you, he dropped out of school and joined WASP. After dad disappeared, he was all set up for an honorable discharge in order to join International Rescue, right? Sixteen, almost seventeen, okay. But there was an accident, one which we're pretty sure was contrived by our world's Hood."

"What happened?" Gordon asked, his voice softening and the scowl fading away.

"Hydrofoil crash due to a faulty repair," Alan responded. "Gordy nearly died. He was in a coma for three weeks, had multiple broken bones, lacerations, contusions. Drowning led to pneumonia. Got sepsis in the hospital. And he broke his back in three places and was told he'd never walk again." He gave Gordon a long, solemn look. "Eighteen months later, he competed in the Olympics."

"Did he place?" Gordon asked, brow furrowed.

Part of Alan wanted to brag about his gold-winning brother, because as much as he had problems living in their shadows at times, he was rather proud of all his brothers' accomplishments. But the larger part of him knew that this Gordon didn't need to compare himself to anyone else at this time. "Does it matter? He made it," Alan said. "He was told he'd never walk again and he looked those doctors in the eye and said 'screw it, you don't know me' and he worked until he got there."

Gordon was silent for a long moment, the only sound in the room the shuffling of wolf-Virgil in the corner. "Do you think I can do that too?" Gordon finally asked.

"Dude, you can do anything," Alan responded, looking as though that had been a particularly stupid question. "You're a Tracy, aren't you?" Gordon nodded slowly. "Which," Alan continued, holding up a finger, "Does not mean that you have to follow in your dad's footsteps and continue hunting if you don't want to."

"Not a fan of hunting?" Gordon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I killed a man yesterday and I'm not okay with it," Alan said, admitting it out loud. For some reason, having said it out loud made it all the less daunting to deal with and he gave a sigh.

"That man killed my dad and was going to kill the rest of us and the entire world," Gordon pointed out.

"Which is the only reason I'm here talking to you and not hiding in a corner somewhere," Alan responded.

"But you are hiding," Gordon pointed out knowingly.

Alan rolled his eyes. "Okay, no. You are not allowed to big-brother me when we are literally the same age."

Gordon snorted and craned his neck to look into Other-Virgil's cage. "You want to take this?" he asked the wolf, looking incredibly comfortable with the idea of having a canine sibling. Other-Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes and then letting them fall shut. Gordon snickered. "Yeah, great help you are."

"Give him a break, he's a dog," Virgil, Alan's Virgil, stated from the doorway, where he was causally leaning and watching them all. Alan startled, just a little, and Gordon blinked at him. "I'll take over the big- brothering, thanks," Virgil said.

"Dude, you're freaking huge," Gordon stated blankly, still staring at Virgil. Because while the Virgil of this world was well on his way to matching the Virgil standing in the doorway, he was still only eighteen and had some growing to do.

"Thanks. I think." Virgil said dryly before latching his gaze onto his littlest brother. "Alan? You good Sproutling?"

"Kinda sucky, actually," Alan responded, but he was smiling, so Virgil took it as a win. Alan held up his arm. "HEMERA's done recharging."

"So we'll move on soon," Virgil sighed. He glanced around the room, eyeing their counterpart family. "Can't say I'm all too upset about leaving this world, to be honest."

"I'm kind of hoping HEMERA keeps charging this fast," Alan shrugged, knowing that Virgil was talking about the magic and mind-reading and all the crap they'd just put up with. "We'll be home in no time."

"Barring anything else going wrong," Virgil mumbled, still not moving further into the room. He crossed his arms across his chest, coving the SGC symbol that decorated his t-shirt. Alan frowned at it for a moment; he hadn't realized that the SGC had given them any clothes. He knew that Tony had given them plenty, and they had the stuff from that first world too…but still. Whatever.

"Eager to leave?" Gordon asked with a small, sad smile. He'd miss these weird versions of his brothers, but he had to admit that having them gone would be one step closer to normality.

"Eager to get home," Virgil sighed. "We've been gone a while and it hasn't been easy."

"Obviously," Gordon rolled his eyes. "You're covered in bruises and have both a cast and a brace."

"Speaking of which," Alan muttered, eyeing his big brother. "How's your leg?"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "It's fine."

Alan scowled. "Look. You died on me. Twice. I'm not taking any chances here on out."

Gordon's eyebrows rose, but he kept quiet, even as wolf-Virgil raised his head and gazed at the two brothers from another world. Virgil sighed, his face falling. "I'm sorry, Sprout, but I still don't regret getting between you and that thing."

"I know," Alan muttered, "which is why I'm taking no more chances. Now…what do we need to do before we leave?"

Virgil smiled at him and then turned that placid smile on both Gordon and Other-Virgil. "Everything's going to be fine," he told them in that irritatingly all-knowing way that he had. Alan relaxed pretty much against his will at hearing that tone, because when Virgil spoke like that it was hard to dispute his words and he'd grown up knowing that. "All of you are going to pull through just fine and you're going to change the world when you do." Virgil motioned to Alan, who slid off the bed and joined him in the doorway. "Get some rest," he said softly, dimming the lights. "We'll probably be gone by the time you get back up."

And they were. Two hours later, the two were standing in the yard of the school, all geared up and ready to move on. This world's Tracy family were all asleep at that time, every single one of them, trying to overcome the effects of torture and kidnapping and trauma. Virgil and Alan felt it best to leave them be and not bother them with saying goodbyes. It would have been awkward and honestly, with how similar this world's family was to their own (no matter the age difference) they weren't sure they would be able to get through the farewells without crying.

Alan and Virgil both didn't feel like crying today.

"Thank you so much for all your help," Giles stated, warmly shaking their hands.

Virgil gave a half smile. "I'd say anytime, but I honestly hope we never see you again. No offence."

"None taken," Buffy grinned, bouncing on her toes. "Be safe, kay? I won't tell you not to go saving all the other worlds you're going to fall into but try to stay safe at the very least."

Faith sauntered forward, patting Virgil's chest. "Thanks for last night, buddy. It was a blast." Virgil grinned at her, as Xander burst out laughing and Alan gagged in the background. Last night had been nothing but chaos and pain, what with the whole stopping-the-apocalypse thing, but man Faith had a way of making it sound so dirty.

He loved it, honestly.

"God speed, boys," Giles said, and all the Slayers and witches and others that had fought with them last night gave a cheer, waving goodbye as well.

Alan and Virgil exchanged looks and then gave the sloppy salutes that they were beginning to get used to giving upon leaving worlds. "Bye."

And then they were gone.