CHAPTER 17: WOLVES FEEL VULNERABLE TOO

BUTCH: Wow, you're updating fast.

ME: *fist pump* Yay for fast updates!

BRICK: *monotone* Booooo.

ME: *sticks tongue out at him*

BLOSSOM: Kuku... There's more to say than just that.

ME: Oh, right! This chapter we get to see Ross at the meeting Shamus was talking about. We see Butch and BC moments. We see more of Vix—how many of you hate him?

VIX: *rolls eyes* Oh come on.

ME: We find more stuff out. Especially about Vix and Ross.

ROSS: Umm... *glances at Butch*

BUTCH: *glares at Ross*

BOOMER: Kuku only owns the story and her own OC's!

BLASTER: Like me! Review, please~

Chapter 17: Wolves Feel Vulnerable Too

"Ross, finally. What on earth took you so long?" Standing up, Shamus walked over to his nephew. He'd been seated at a large, round table surrounded by technology. And yet, the room still looked classy and ancient.

"Sorry, Uncle. I just...ran out to..." Ross paused, unsure what he was supposed to say. If he said he got a cappuccino and talked to a female classmate of his, Shamus was going to murder him.

Shamus frowned, furrowing his brow. Obvious disappointment and disapproval was showing on his face.

"I'm sure he has a good reason to be late," Danes remarked, locking his hands together. Michael rolled his eyes and huffed from his seat beside Danes.

Ross smiled sheepishly, slipping into a seat next to his friends.

Shamus sat back down as well, turning to Danes. "Back to the topic about the past..."

"Yes. I know." Danes closed his eyes. "Everything is so complicated now."

"I'd like to say something," Vix piped up, propping himself against the table.

Many of the people there suddenly looked disgusted. Coal stated, "I don't think anyone wants to hear from you."

Vix glared at the man, his eye glowing white as he shot a blade at Coal's hand. Coal dodged, but Vix had made his point.

"Vix, stand down," commanded Danes, narrowing his eyes. "You must follow the rules of our deal."

"I'm sorry." Vix hardly sounded apologetic.

Danes shifted. "So what is it that you'd like to say?"

"I'd prefer not to talk about Damon," Vix replied. Murmurs rippled through the crowd but immediately stopped when Danes held his hand up. Vix glared at the people there, grinding his teeth together.

"And why's that?" Danes questioned calmly.

"I grew up with Damon. Damon died in front of my eyes. I don't think I want to listen to you people talk about him." Vix stated it like it was a fact.

"...Very well." Danes narrowed his eyes. "You may go outside while we discuss Damon. I'll have someone call you back in later."

"...Thank you." Vix stood up and made his way toward the door, passing Ross. Ross shivered, feeling a sudden chill in the air. The door slammed shut behind Vix.

"I can't stand that kid," snarled Maxim, thumping his fist down on the table. "He's obnoxious and arrogant and thinks he can do what he wants."

Danes ignored Maxim as he moved on. "We all remember Sylvie, don't we?"

"Yes."

Ross clenched his fists, sneaking a peek at his uncle. Shamus had stiffened, but his expression remained calm. Ross swallowed. Sylvie...

"Sylvie was very beautiful and we were lucky to have known her. However, she was the start of all our troubles. Everyone also remembers Tyrone and Damon, I believe?"

"How could we forget?" sneered Maxim in a snarky tone.

Danes shot him a look and he clamped his mouth shut. "Tyrone was killed one night."

Shamus slumped slightly, suddenly looking sad. "He was my brother; he had so much more to live for."

Ross tried not to choke on the air around him, which suddenly felt thick and heavy.

"And we all know what happened next, don't we?" Danes' lips formed a tight line.

"Yes. Damon was there too..." Shamus continued, his eyes misting over. It was clear he was thinking about the past.

Danes studied his friend, before nodding.

Ross shuddered. He hated listening to this story. He hated hearing Damon's name. He could never forget the night that he saw Tyrone in that state...so weak and frail...

"That's why we're doing these hunts," snarled Danes, showing the first sign of emotion since the meeting had started. "That's why we must find them."

Silence filled the room.

And if someone looked hard enough, they might have noticed that the door was open just a crack...and that a white eye was peeking in.

Butch took a deep breath before reaching out and pushing open the café door. Ross' words still lingered in his mind:

"Oh, and Buttercup's inside the café. Go ahead and talk to her. You two probably have some stuff to talk about, huh?"

Walking inside, Butch felt the warm aroma of freshly baked treats and warm coffees wrap around him. He waved at the workers behind the counter, before immediately turning around to the window. There she was. She was standing, packing things in a small black bag.

She was going to leave.

Moving quickly, Butch made his way toward Buttercup. "Uhh...hi, BC," he said.

She had just turned around to walk off, and all of a sudden she found that she was face-to-face with Butch.

Butch swallowed. I didn't realize we'd be this close.

"Oh...hi, Butch." Buttercup seemed surprised...and awkward.

Butch rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "What a funny coincidence finding you here."

"Are you sure it was a coincidence?" questioned Buttercup, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe not." Butch moved away and sat down where Ross was originally sitting. He gestured at the seat.

Buttercup shrugged and followed suit, also sitting down. "You would've seen Ross exiting, right?"

"Yeah, true." Butch felt awkward again. "I mean...he's the one who told me to come talk to you."

Buttercup paused, thinking back to something Ross had said: "You should talk to Butch. I can tell you two have a lot to say to each other. Even if you don't always know what to say, you two have enough chemistry together to find something to talk about anyway."

"What's the matter? Don't believe me?" asked Butch, raising an eyebrow at Buttercup's sudden silence.

"No, it's not that." The green Puff shook her head. "I was just thinking of something that he...said to me."

Butch frowned. "Oh...well then."

"Anyway, what do you want to talk about?" Buttercup didn't meet his gaze. She had just made the conversation awkward again.

Butch coughed. "Just...stuff, I guess." He leaned back as Bat came by and took the empty cups. "Uh, can I order a latte?"

"Sure." Bat smirked. "I mean, sure we're almost at closing hours, but I'll take your order."

"Gee; thanks, Bat." Butch rolled his eyes. He turned to Buttercup. "And you...?"

"I...well, I already had a cappuccino," Buttercup replied.

"Oh. Right." Butch coughed again.

Bat whistled. "Do you have a cold? Maybe you should get it checked out," he teased.

Butch groaned, doing a face-palm. Buttercup shuffled her feet.

"Okay, how's about this. Let me help your awkward situation," Bat suggested, "I'll get you guys some cookies to chow on. The li'l lady can have a small cup of milk. She doesn't need to finish; the milk will be on the house."

"Thank you," Buttercup said.

Bat winked and whisked away on his rollerblades.

"Damn that guy. He's so annoying sometimes," sighed Butch.

Buttercup laughed, "He knows it too."

Butch smiled, leaning forward. "You know who else is annoying? Braker. He decided it was a good idea to make this one night all about pranks. He practically played pranks on all of us. It was like out of a horror movie. We would walk around and look for pranks but get caught in them anyway."

"Seriously?" giggled Buttercup. "Okay, so what prank did Braker play on the Almighty Butch?"

"I'll admit that I got caught in a traditional prank. I was walking around the whole house trying to avoid being pranked. I was seriously the last one standing, because li'l ol' me has done some pretty good pranks myself. But in the end, I was pranked when I opened my bedroom door. No one had seen Braker for awhile, and it turned out he was in my room.

"Hell, he was literally standing in my room waiting for me."

"What did he do?" Buttercup prompted.

"He threw a bucket of milk at me." Butch smiled sheepishly. "It's a lot more gross to wash out or let dry out than water, y'know?"

Buttercup smirked. "I can imagine."

"Alright, now that I've told you an embarrassing story, you need to tell me one too," Butch said, grinning.

Buttercup paused, frowning. "Hold up; I don't think I agreed to that."

"Oh come on. Just choose one that's even mildly embarrassing and share it! I shared mine." Butch winked. "Unless, of course, the story involves maybe having a crush on me..."

"Oh shut up. As if," Buttercup laughed, punching him lightly. "Let me think for a second."

A few moments of silence passed, before Butch asked, "Well?"

"Okay, I think I got one. But no teasing or laughing, okay?" Buttercup stated.

"Okay," Butch agreed, putting a hand up. "I promise."

Buttercup rolled her eyes and smiled. Then she said, "Well...there was this one time Bubbles thought it'd be a good idea to do our hair. Keep in mind, we were only seven, okay? So she decided to try this dye on my hair, which is supposed to be lime-green, but she messed up. My hair then became a mess; it looked like someone had barfed on my head! There was green and black and chunks from the hair dye. I was mortified."

"Pfft." Butch clamped his hand over his mouth.

Buttercup raised an eyebrow. "Are you laughing?"

"No, I just... Oh, poor BC!" And then Butch burst out laughing.

Folding her arms, Buttercup said, "You're laughing."

"Sorry," wheezed Butch innocently.

"You promised not to!" exclaimed Buttercup, hitting him lightly.

Butch simply repeated his "sorry" again.

Just then, Bat reappeared with a small basket of cookies in one hand. In the other hand he had Butch's latte and a cup of milk for BC. Bat raised an eyebrow. "Enjoying yourselves, I see?"

"I guess. Thanks, Bat," Buttercup said, taking her cup of milk.

Butch nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He grabbed his latte.

"No problem." Bat set the cookies down. "Keep having fun." He smirked, winking, before skating off.

"I wish he'd stop doing that," Butch muttered, taking a sip of his latte.

Buttercup glanced at him. "Doing what?" she asked.

Butch set his cup down and winked, before pointing dramatically at his closed eye. "That. That stupid winking of his."

Buttercup smirked slightly. "I'll admit that it's a little silly..."

"It's a lot silly," Butch countered, rolling his eyes.

"It's not like you're not a lot silly," remarked Buttercup, flicking Butch on the forehead.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing the now sore area. "What was that for?"

"For being silly," teased Buttercup.

Butch's surprise faded as he smirked back.

"Ross, come back here! I need to talk to you. You can't just walk in late and then expect to walk out early!"

Ross sighed and hit his head on the door. He turned around to see his uncle stalking toward him. "But Shamus, this meeting deals with a really touchy subject for me. Can I just go home?"

"You're not excused," Shamus said firmly, folding his arms. "It's not like the subject today doesn't bother me either."

From the table, the people still sitting were watching the scene in curiosity.

"Shamus, just let me go. We're making a scene," hissed Ross, shooting a cautious glance at the table. A few people looked away sheepishly.

His uncle frowned and pushed the door open. Ross wondered if his uncle had finally come around and was going to let him leave. But instead, Shamus grabbed Ross' arm and yanked him outside. The door slammed shut behind them.

"Ow! What was that for?" demanded Ross, rubbing his now sore arm.

Shamus stood, arms crossed. "Well?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I guess it was just wishful thinking thinking you'd let me leave," muttered Ross.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." Ross rolled his eyes.

Shamus sighed and let his shoulders sag. "You know that this topic was hard for me to stomach as well. We were talking about the death of my brother."

Ross didn't meet his uncle's eyes.

"But you need to take responsibility and learn to stay put," Shamus continued, his soft tone turning stern. "You can't keep expecting that dodging responsibility will help you at all in life."

Ross swallowed hard.

"Sylvie—"

"Don't you dare bring her up!" shouted Ross. Shamus stopped talking as he stared at his nephew. Ross continued to rant: "I was scarred for life by that day. I tried to forget everything except my hatred. You knew Tyrone and Sylvie as well as I did! They were our friends. You of all people should know how I feel!"

Shamus felt a jab at the "friend" part. That's what she called me too...a friend. His expression softened. "...I do know how it feels," he said quietly.

Ross paused, surprised that Shamus hadn't scolded him in retort. "What...?"

"I said, I know how it feels," repeated Shamus. "I saw Sylvie die. I saw my brother die in front of my eyes. I saw you grow up with only me to raise you. I saw Damon that night too—"

"Don't say it," Ross pleaded, covering his ears with his hands. "I don't want to hear it. I hate Damon. I hate him."

Shamus sighed. "I don't blame you." He slowly shifted, spreading his arms wider. "Come over here, Ross."

Ross paused, before slowly walking forward. He felt Shamus wrap his arms around him. And even though it may have been weird to see a grown man hug a teenage boy, Ross really needed it.

"Damon started it all," Shamus murmured, "and that's why we're hunting for those who were on Damon's side."

"I know," Ross said quietly. He could feel tears pricking his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

After awhile, the two pulled apart. Shamus sighed, "I'm sorry I can't be a better guardian for you, Ross. I can't replace—"

"It's fine," Ross stated simply. "You're a great guardian, Uncle Shamus."

Shamus paused in surprise, but then he smiled.

Just then, footsteps sounded. "Excuse me."

Ross and Shamus looked up to see Vix. The older teen's long red hair blew slightly in a sudden breeze. "I'm sorry for intruding," Vix said.

Ross paused. Vix had known Damon. He'd been raised by Damon. All of a sudden, memories of the hatred he'd felt for Vix when they first met flooded Ross. They had come to know each other and call one another friends, but many of the adults still didn't fully trust Vix.

Vix had walked out of the meeting room when the discussion turned to Damon.

"Are they done discussing that; about Damon?" asked Vix, his eyes clouding over.

"...Yes, I think so." Even Shamus had a moment of mistrust for Vix cross his face before it vanished.

"Thanks," stated Vix. He walked past the two, and a sudden tension filled the air. He entered the room the others were still in.

Shamus glanced at Ross. "Should we go back inside too?"

"Must we?" Ross raised an eyebrow.

Shamus sighed. "Okay, maybe we can leave early. I just need to let Danes know."

"Thanks, Shamus." Ross smiled.

"...No problem." Shamus returned the smile; then he disappeared inside as well.

As he waited for his uncle to come back outside, Ross hummed a gentle tune as he bounced slightly on his feet. His mother had taught it to him, before everything went downhill. Before everything with Damon...

That's right. Damon's at fault here. It's his fault that everything went wrong.

"And that's why I don't plan on letting Bliss decorate or wash our bikes again anytime soon," Buttercup finished.

Butch, who was already having a hard time keeping from smirking, suddenly burst into laughter. "I can't believe she...she... Bliss did all that!?"

"I know right?" Buttercup giggled slightly in her agreement.

Butch paused. "Your laugh sounds nice."

"Oh...thanks." Buttercup paused, surprised. That's the second time someone's complimented my "giggle" tonight. Does it really sound that good?

Butch leaned forward, causing Buttercup's eyes to widen. But the green Rowdyruff Boy was simply grabbing the last cookie. He seemed to notice her staring though, because he turned to raise an eyebrow. "What's wrong? Do I have something ugly on my face?"

"N-No." Buttercup mentally slapped herself. "I mean, nothing besides your nose."

"Oh, okay." Butch shrugged. But it didn't take long for him to realize what she'd said. "Hey!"

Buttercup laughed.

"Is this because you want the cookie—"

"No, I don't want it," Buttercup said.

"Too bad. You get it anyway—well, half of it." Butch cracked the cookie in half and passed one of the pieces to her.

Buttercup smirked. "Thanks. I guess I wouldn't mind having a cookie...or half of a cookie."

"Hey, I gotta eat too, so you get half," Butch retorted, shoving his cookie in his mouth. He gulped it down with the last of his latte.

"Oh, like you haven't already eaten enough," teased Buttercup, rolling her eyes as she ate her own half. She finished her milk.

Butch glanced down at the table. "I guess we're done, huh?"

"Yeah, it looks like it," agreed Buttercup.

Bat reappeared just on time, taking the empty basket and cups. "Bat's here just in time!" he cheered.

"Were you spying on us?" Butch demanded, arching an eyebrow.

"No..." Bat paused. "Okay, maybe a little. With my brothers." He laughed sheepishly.

Butch did a face-palm.

"Did you two have fun?" cooed Bat.

"If I say yes will you leave?" Butch asked.

"If you mean it," smirked Bat.

"Then yes," Butch countered.

"Okie dokie then. I'll be leaving now. I mean, I have to anyway 'cause the café's closing."

"Already...?" Buttercup felt surprised. Did time really pass by that quickly?

"Yes," Bat chuckled. "Time flies when you're having fun, huh?"

From the counter, one of Bat's brothers called out. "Come on you two! You've had your fun. Now go home!"

"Okay, okay. We're leaving." Butch put his hands up in the air as he stood up. "Is this any way to treat a guest?"

His response was a piece of bread that flew into his face. "It is when it's closing time!"

Butch grabbed the bread and rolled his eyes. He turned to Buttercup. "Walk you home?" he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," she replied.

"Goodbye! Have fun," Bat called as the two greens left. When the café door closed behind them, he waved and turned the "open" sign to "closed".

Butch glanced at his counterpart. "Sometimes I wonder why we go to that café so often even if they're our friends."

She laughed.

The two greens chatted as they walked toward Buttercup's house.

"I can't believe Mitch thought it'd be a good idea to do the ALS challenge by jumping into a garbage can full of water and ice," remarked Butch.

Buttercup laughed. "I was wondering if he'd broken any bones because of it."

"Only his pride bone when we had to pull him out," Butch smirked back.

"Princess dumped expensive French wine and ice on herself. I don't know why she thought it was a good idea. She ruined a $400 dress just for the stunt," Buttercup added.

"Oh, I saw that online. Didn't she say she never liked the dress anyway?"

"That may be so, but we sure as heck can't afford to spend our money willy-nilly like that," Buttercup said.

Butch checked his empty pockets by pulling them inside-out. He looked up and grinned. "True that."

Buttercup couldn't help but smile in amusement.

They had been walking for only a few minutes when all of a sudden, a voice greeted them...or rather, Butch.

"Butch. So it is you."

Butch spun around to see the familiar pair of green and white eyes. He growled, "Vix."

"Relax," the taller guy stated, walking forward. "I don't want to fight you."

"Oh, unlike all the other times you did want to fight me?" demanded Butch.

Vix paused. "Okay, I don't want to fight you right now."

Buttercup paused, instantly recognizing the newcomer. "You're the one who choked me." And the one who hurt Butch.

Vix turned to look at her, as if he had only just noticed the other person walking with Butch. "Do I know you?"

Buttercup had a feeling he was being sarcastic and that he really did remember her. And yet, his choice of words still pissed her off.

"Anyway, you can run along. I only need to speak to Butch," Vix continued, "I have something that I need to—"

He never finished, because Buttercup had charged at him. She smashed her fist into his face, shouting, "Hell yeah! That's for choking me, you bastard!"

Vix was sent flying thanks to her superpowers. When the dust settled, he stood up and glared at her. "Are you quite done yet?" he spat.

"Yes." Buttercup smirked victoriously and dusted her hands off.

Vix looked like he was ready to attack her, but Butch stepped forward. "If you try to hurt her, I'm not going to speak to you."

"...Fine." Vix straightened, his eyes dark. "You drive a hard bargain, Butch. But fine."

Butch folded his arms. "Now what the fuck do you want to talk about, you asshole?"

"Hey, lay off the swears. You're going to make me mad, and then I'll want attack you." Vix rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you remember what happened with Damon."

"How could I forget?" sneered Butch. "I thought you'd be sad, but instead you traded—"

"Enough with the 'trading sides' talk! That's none of your business," snapped Vix. "Look. Danes hosted a meeting today and was talking about the whole incident with Damon."

Butch paused, thinking back to what Ross had said about attending the meeting. "And?" he prompted.

Buttercup glanced between the two guys in confusion. She had no idea what they were talking about.

"Danes and the others are on the move," Vix stated simply, "and you know what that means."

"Why are you telling me this?" demanded Butch, narrowing his eyes. "You're not on my side. And besides, Danes would kill you if he found out you were leaking information."

Vix shrugged. "I like to give my prey a chance to run before giving chase," he smirked.

"Oh fuck you."

"Well, I said what I came to say. Catch you around, Butch." Vix turned away to leave, but then he paused. "Oh, and one more thing."

Butch frowned. "What else is there?"

Vix's arm shot forward, something silver flying out of his hand.

Butch's eyes widened. He grabbed Buttercup and yanked her downwards as he also bent down. There was a loud thok! as the thing stabbed deep into a tree. It turned out it was a blade.

"What the fuck, Vix!? I thought you said you weren't going to fight me!" shouted Butch angrily.

"It doesn't hurt to try!" Vix chuckled. "Especially after you kept insulting me! Tell your li'l lady friend to be careful too, Butch."

Then he disappeared.

Buttercup turned to stare at Butch. "What was that all about!?" she demanded.

"I don't really know," Butch admitted, "not completely."

"Well, what do you know?" she pressed.

Butch paused. "...I know that it's private matters."

"Oh come on," Buttercup muttered whiningly.

"Let's go," Butch stated, spinning around and walking.

Buttercup ran to catch up to him. "How can you act like that didn't even happen!?" She threw her hands in the air in a "what the hell, dude!" manner.

"I do it all the time," Butch growled. "Can we please talk about something else, BC?"

"...Okay." Buttercup's shoulders slumped.

"I'm not telling you anything not because I don't trust you. It's for your own good," Butch added in a huff, sounding embarrassed.

Buttercup turned to stare at him in surprise, but he had already looked away. She smiled slightly. "Alright then. Anyway, if you want to talk about something else, I do have this one story about Mr. Fickleson..."

Butch visibly relaxed when she changed the subject. The two of them laughed and chatted until they had reached Buttercup's house, and Butch waved goodbye. He was smiling, looking relieved.

"See you later," he called.

"Bye," she answered.

Buttercup watched him leave before she unlocked the front door and walked inside. The first thing she was greeted with was the Professor's face.

"Where on earth did you go!?" he demanded. "I was worried sick!"

"Sorry, Prof," Buttercup said sheepishly, surprised by his sudden appearance. She remembered how this was supposed to be a little walk. Yet it had turned into something much bigger. "I went for a walk and ran into the new kid, Ross. We got some cappuccinos at the café. He later left and I was going to leave too, but then I ran into Butch."

The Professor visibly relaxed, but then he stiffened again. "You were out with two boys!?"

"Not like that!" she said quickly. Her face reddened. "We were just hanging out as friends, okay!"

"What a relief," he said.

Buttercup sighed. "Jeez, Professor. I'm not a kid anymore! I can take care of myself."

"I know. Still, I can't help but get worried about you girls, because you'll always be Daddy's little girls," he stated.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.

Just then, Blossom entered the room. "Buttercup, you've been gone for hours!"

"I'll tell you guys everything," Buttercup promised. Well, almost everything, she added silently, thinking back to the whole deal with Vix. Probably better to leave that one out.

"Okay." Blossom frowned.

"Buttercup's home!" chirped Bubbles cheerfully, peeking in the door. "Now we can start the movie."

"We're watching a movie?" Buttercup said, surprised.

Bliss bounced in, nodding. "We didn't have anything else to do, so movie night it was!"

"We were waiting for you," Banana added.

"We tried calling you..." Bunny murmured softly.

Buttercup glanced at her black bag, where her phone was sitting inside. "Oops. Sorry, guys. My phone was on vibrate."

Banana did a face-palm as Bliss laughed.

"Okay, let's start the movie," the Professor stated.

"Wait, let me change into my PJ's first," Buttercup said, already flying for her room.

"Be quick!" called Blossom.

As Buttercup changed, she couldn't help but wonder about Vix and what he was talking about with Butch. Who's Damon...? And I think Danes is Michael's uncle, right...? I heard Michael talking about a "Danes" with his friends...

Buttercup finished changing. She hadn't, however, finished thinking and wondering about the two boys' conversation. Vix knows Michael?

And what about Ross...?

Buttercup sighed and flew downstairs. I'll think about it later, she told herself. For now I'll just enjoy the movie and being with my family.

"Mom, look! That license plate has an 8 on it!"

Laughing, the woman sitting at the passenger front seat nodded. "Okay, Mr. Smarty Pants, you win again."

"Yeah!" The little boy in the back smiled, satisfied that he'd won. "That's the fifth victory in a row, Mom!"

The father, who was driving, glanced at his son from the rearview mirror. "Congrats, kiddo. I'd play too, but I have to focus on the road."

"I can't wait until I can drive," the boy answered eagerly, peeking out at the window.

"You still have a long way to go," the father teased.

The boy pouted exaggeratedly, glancing down at his lap. He knew he was weaker than other boys his age; he'd always been frailer. He couldn't do many of the things daily that other boys could. However, he knew that driving was one of the things he could do when the other boys were learning to drive too.

His father paused. "Alright then; ready for another round?"

"Yes!" cheered the boy.

"If you say so." The mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'll probably just lose again to our li'l champion here."

Their son grinned.

The father seemed to be thinking. "Alright then, how's about whoever finds a license plate that has a 4 on it wins?"

"Okay," both the mother and their son agreed.

Looking around eagerly, the boy watched as trees sped past them. It took only two minutes, but the father then swerved the car toward a gas station. Just as he did that, a blood-red minivan was speeding by.

"Dad; Mom!" called the boy. "That car has a 4—"

The father's eyes widened as the minivan zoomed toward them. He honked at it, but the red car wasn't changing direction. It was still speeding toward the family!

The boy let out a scream, scared to death. His parents reacted similarly, just seconds before the hit.

Their car spun around at the last minute, but there was a loud, sickening crash as two cars smashed into one another. The crunching of metal sounded, and fire erupted from the cars.

Panting, the boy opened his eyes. He had closed them during the impact. Swallowing hard, he realized that the car was all of a sudden upside-down. His left eye was hurting really bad, and he couldn't see out of it. It felt as if it were on fire, just like the car.

The car's on fire, the boy realized in panic. Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded within his eye and he let out a cry. Pressing a hand to the hurting eye, the boy tried to move. He was stuck. When he pulled his hand away from his eye, he was scared to see blood on his fingers. Did I lose my eye? The thought made him feel mortified.

Taking a deep breath, he tore his one-eyed sight away from the bloodied hand. He fumbled for the seatbelt buckle, feeling relieved when he found it. He pulled the seatbelt off and held onto the car's door handle. There were tiny pieces of glass everywhere.

In front, two bodies were slumped over. Air bags had popped out of the car. The boy moved toward the two figures, trying not to panic. He reached out for the two people he called Mother and Father. "Mom, Dad...? Come on you two; you need to wake up," he squeaked, fear jabbing itself into his heart.

"Please, you guys. This isn't funny," he continued to plead. He shook them slightly, but his father simply slumped forward even more. The boy let out a scared cry when he saw blood.

He slowly forced himself to check on his mother, who was also bloodied and burned. Shaking, the boy leaned back as he realized that his parents were...dead.

"No...no..." he whispered.

All the while, the radio had been buzzing and crackling. Flames tickled at the car; the outside was burning steadily. The inside was starting to be engulfed by the fire as well.

Finally, the radio flipped on. "—Street is where the thieves were last spotted. They stole a red minivan with the license 'DEI444'*. The two thieves have already done a hit-and-run..."

The boy froze. That's the license plate that minivan had. Suddenly, rage filled him and he clenched his fists together. But despite that, he couldn't do anything. For all he knew, the thieves were dead too.

Shuddering, the boy tried to open the door, but it was stuck. One door refused to open; thanks to being crushed, and the other was engulfed by flames. What was even worse was that the flames were now inside. The fire had spread, and since the window had been smashed into pieces, it had a chance to get inside the car.

The boy wanted to give up, so that's what he chose to do. He was tired and he had no escape; his parents were dead; he had lost an eye; he was all alone. The fire had already reached him. There was shouting outside, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.

I hope those thieves burned too.

That was the last thought he had before the car door was torn off its hinges and another cry sounded. The boy's vision had began to blur, and his consciousness was fading fast.

Despite that, the boy could just make out a man with dark blue-black hair and golden-brown eyes. He was tan with two small triangles popping out of his head. The man had his hands outstretched. He was saying something, but the boy couldn't hear; he tried to read the man's lips. It seemed as if he was saying "stay awake".

But in the end, the boy still lost consciousness.

Panting, the male opened his eyes wide as he sat up in bed. Beads of sweat trickled down his skin and he swallowed hard.

Why did I have to dream of that again?

The male sighed, leaning back against his pillows and his bed-frame. He tried to gather his scattered thoughts, but his brain felt like it had been burned...just like the car in his dream.

No...my memory.

Mom...Dad... The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. That was the day they died.

He turned to stare at his alarm clock. "4:44 am", it read. He hated that number. Or rather, he hated the number combination. It had been so long that he'd stopped associating the number 4 with his parents' death, but the number combination still bothered him and stirred up bad memories.

Flopping back down, the male wondered if the people he'd known who had died were watching him from above.

He turned away from his alarm clock.

Just then, a knock sounded on his door. "Vix...? Are you awake?"

He simply shifted, grunting in response. He was in no mood to talk. To anyone. About anything. He just wanted to rest.

The door opened a crack anyway and the familiar face of Ross peeked in. "I need to talk to you," the boy said.

*(A/N: Reference to the fact that 4 in Chinese sounds like the Chinese word "death"! It's pronounced "si" but not like the Spanish word for "yes"... Oh, just search it up with Goggle Translate and press the audio button and you'll see what I mean. Oh and the license plate looks like "die", doesn't it? Hehe aren't I clever?)

ME: Ooh! What does Ross want to talk about?

ROSS: Well I—

ME: Hey, no spoilers, Ross.

ROSS: *sweat-drop*

ME: What do you guys think about Vix now? *wiggles eyebrows*

BUTCH: He's still a bastard for what he's done.

VIX: And you're still an asshole.

BUTCH & VIX: *growls and glares at one another*

ME: ...Guys, no fighting.

BRAKER: Review, you people reading this right now!