CHAPTER 57: WOLVES COME HOME
ME: Sorry about the wait, everyone! I've been super busy and tired and busy and did I mention busy?
BRICK: *rolls eyes* Yes.
ME: I've been busy with my job and school haha.
BLOSSOM: You must work hard.
ME: Well, anyway... MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! *throws confetti*
BRAKER: Yeah! Or happy whatever you celebrate! *grins*
BLISS: And Happy New Year~
ME: Now please continue reading!
Chapter 57: Wolves Come Home
"I'm home."
The announcement tumbled out of his lips on instinct, greeting empty air. He sighed. He wasn't quite sure why he still said it, considering how no one was there to answer him anymore.
He stood still for a moment, waiting, waiting... For what? Nothing happened and his thoughts sagged in disappointment. For nothing.
Then he was moving, walking into the house and shoving his grocery bags onto the coffee table in the living room. He felt the feeling of loneliness crash down upon him stronger than ever; a relentless reminder that silence was his only companion now.
A long time ago, he'd had someone to share the house with. Two someone's, actually. A wife and a daughter. Both were amazingly beautiful and smart, and he loved both of them very much. But then the mother had died and the daughter had been put in a coma...
He sighed again, beginning the trek up the stairs. His feet dragged behind him, and his steps were lethargic. Tiredness churned within him inside his bones, and he had to force himself to keep walking, head down. On the last step, when he was finally upstairs, he noticed something by his foot.
It was the skirt of a white dress.
Gasping, he jerked his head upwards, nearly stumbling backwards in his shock. A girl lay sprawled out in his hallway, lying on her side with her eyes closed.
He rushed towards her, checking her pulse. Still there. Relief flooded his system and he gingerly lifted her head up, gazing at her face intently. He wished she would wake up—again, right? If she's all the way out here, she must've woken up long enough— His hopes were already rising much too high for his tastes so he shoved his excited thoughts back down.
"Cassie?" he whispered breathily, brushing her soft hair from her face. "Cassie, it's me. Wake up."
For a long time nothing happened. His expectations steadily decreased in fear, but he didn't give up. He continued to prod at her and waited for a sign or an indication that she was going to wake up, whether it be her opening eyes or a cry or—
A twitch of the muscles.
He stiffened. She's moving. Indeed she was—she began writhing in his arms, and his relief was instant. Then her lashes fluttered and soon he was greeted by the calm, serene gaze of a girl he knew as his daughter. The sunlight shining through the windows lit her up as though she were a fallen angel in his arms, her long white skirt billowing out beneath her and her hair flowing around her.
Absolute joy flooded his system and he let out a long breath of relief—a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in anticipation.
"Dad?" she murmured, still trying to blink away the sleepiness. She attempted to sit up, causing his arms to tighten around her protectively.
"Hey, Cassandra." He smiled—he was sure it was the biggest smile he'd smiled in a long, long time. "Welcome back."
She stared at him for awhile, before things clicked. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck, beginning to sob into his shirt. "Father...! I was—I was so worried at first; I was wondering if—if you had d-died and it was so scary..."
"Whoa, girl! One thing at a time, please." He pulled back so that he could wipe her eyes and tuck stray strands of her silky hair behind her ear. His gaze softened as it fell upon his daughter, whom he hadn't seen awake in so long. "When did you first wake up?"
"I-I don't know," she stammered, looking unsure. "Morning, I suppose?"
He concluded that it was probably during the time Harry had dragged him to confront Maggie and Chris at Pokey Oaks High. He said nothing of the ordeal though, in fear of worrying his daughter. He didn't mention the man who'd saved him; the man he thought was Damon. Instead, he said, "I just got back from grocery shopping. Are you hungry? I'm sure you're hungry."
She shook her head, but then her stomach rumbled slightly and she blushed. "Okay, maybe a little," she admitted.
He smiled and stood up, offering his hand to her. "Can you stand?"
She tried but her legs were wobbly. She staggered to the side, nearly falling, but he managed to catch her. "How long have I been gone?" she asked.
"Oh, well...around eighteen months, maybe," he responded, concentrating on their steps down the stairs.
She nearly stumbled, spinning around to gape at him. "What?" she demanded.
He lifted a shoulder in what resembled a shrug and a feeling of helplessness. "The important thing is that you're okay now, Cassie."
She sighed. "I guess so. Thank you, Father."
"Don't mention it. I missed you, dear." He smiled at her. "Now...how do you feel about roast beef for dinner...?"
Humming to himself, Damon shifted so that he was more comfortable as he dusted off his monitor screens. The screens flickered as they changed from place to place, and he paused, hand hovering, as he came across one of the more "special" monitors.
Danes' mansion.
Damon leaned back in his office chair, amusement glinting in his eyes. Danes thought he could hide. But Damon knew everything.
Everything.
He locked his fingers together. There was a time when they'd been friends, and he supposed he missed that... But at the same time, not really. He could remember fathers; fathers that replaced his own, friends that he loved, and a developing crush that burned at him for the rest of his life.
But then everything changed after one of his so-called friends decided to betray him by taking the love of his life away from him. Damon picked up his paper cup and took a sip of the coffee inside. He gazed at the screen, eyes narrowing. He took everything away from me. His grip tightened on the cup until it exploded in his hand.
He watched blankly as the coffee dripped down his fingers for a few seconds. He blinked. Then he looked back up at the screen, watching as his brother, Raymond, chatted with Chris and Danes.
Damon smiled.
He may have taken everything away from me, but he's gone now. And Danes and his men may be trying to take things from me now, but I'll just get rid of them too. Guess it's finally time to set up the next step of my plan and set it in motion.
And I'll have everything I've ever wanted.
He began laughing.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
Buttercup glanced around, trying to find someone she'd been sure she saw. She'd just gotten to school, and there were only a few more minutes until the bell would ring and class would start for the day. She needed to find him if she wanted to talk to him, and fast.
There!
Her eyes brightened and she called out, "Ross...!"
He glanced up. She was sure of it. But then he glanced away almost just as fast, his eyes having met hers for even less than a split second. And then a crowd of people filtered in, blocking him from her view.
Buttercup awkwardly lowered her waving arm, a sense of disappointment slithering into her system. Did he just...ignore me? She hesitated. Wait, that can't be right. I'm probably just imagining things.
"Ross? Ross!" she called, pushing her way forward, floating up into the air in order to avoid the crowd. She tried to scan the tops of the heads, but it wasn't easy. When she thought she spotted him, she yelled out his name and began descending.
But almost as if by magic, he was gone.
Buttercup looked around. There weren't any other brunettes around the vicinity and there wasn't any way he could have just up and disappeared in the middle of the hallway. Was I just imagining things? She frowned.
"Buttercup! What's the matter?"
She turned to see familiar dark-green eyes and a casual smirk. "Butch," she stated, before pausing. "Have you seen Ross?"
He frowned, as if disappointed by the question. "No...? Why are you asking me?"
"Oh, never mind. I thought I saw him, but now he's gone." She shrugged, before remembering the day before. She floated in closer until their noses were a couple inches apart, her green eyes pinpointed on his own with intensity. "Okay, so you feeling better now? Can you answer my questions now?"
"Whoa, slow down, babe." Butch put his hands up. "I can't really answer all of your questions in rapid fire like that."
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and slowing her racing mind. Then she drifted downwards till she was standing facing him—although that made her realize she was a little shorter and had to look up in order to meet his eyes. "First off, how are you feeling?"
"Fine, fine." He brushed the question off almost too casually, but she didn't object because she could tell he was nervous. So she forged on.
"Well, can you answer my questions now?"
"Uhh...maybe. It kinda depends. What do you want to know?" He shrugged awkwardly, eyes trailing to a point above her.
"Okay, let's start with: who was that woman?"
"Who?" Now Butch looked really nervous.
"That Maggie woman, duh! Don't play dumb with me, Butch." She gritted her teeth.
He sucked in a deep breath. "She was just some crazy woman who tried to—well, let's not say kill. Really, I was trying to help her and she didn't want me to. She's a bitch." He paused, seemingly remembering that Buttercup was the one he was talking to and that he had to watch how much he had to say, so he quickly added, "I mean, it's not like I know her all that well—"
"Oh come on, Butch. Don't try to dance around the issue or some shit. It's pretty fucking obvious you two know each other—and by the looks of it, fairly well." Buttercup narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to believe you very easily if you try to make some stupid excuses."
Butch sighed. "Okay, okay. I get it—sorry, Butters. But if you want me to be honest and if I were to actually be honest, there's a lot about this issue I really shouldn't say to you."
"Oh, this shit again? I'm going to start counting this as an excuse," she exclaimed in frustration. "Listen to me, Butch Jojo. I don't need protection. I don't need—"
He held his hand up and she halted. "Look, I know. Same old dance, right? So I'm not going to say that again because I know you know, and it doesn't count to you." He paused, smiling almost sadly. "Sorry. But Butters, this is bigger than you know."
"Butch—"
"Wait, I'm not done. Let me finish." He met her eyes, still smiling his saddish smile. "It's not just that. It's also... It really isn't my place to say anything."
She blinked in surprise. This is new. "What...?"
"This isn't just about us; I'll tell you that much. It's about so much more than just that. Like I said, this is bigger than you could ever imagine." He swept his arms out in a gesture to emphasize his point. "And we're just a small part of it." He swept his hands in a smaller arc. "And as for me? I'm just a speck in this giant mess. Maggie is another speck. It's not just her, or me. There are secrets everywhere, and it's not my place to say anything even if I wanted to.
"And I'll be honest. I don't want to. I know it sounds like an excuse to you, but it's true. I'd rather not say anything in order to protect you." He blinked awkwardly, looking away in an almost embarrassed manner. "Anyway, I've said too much already. I'll uh—I have to go now."
She sucked in a deep breath, surprised by his sudden and even caring speech, which was strangely out of character. Just how big and serious is this? She raised her hand. "Wait, Butch—"
He shook his head, denying her an answer before she had even asked her question. "I'll talk to you later, Buttercup." Then he blasted off into the air.
"—What do you mean...?" she finished, dropping her hand awkwardly. She stared down at the ground, shuffling her feet. Wow. I didn't... I didn't expect that. I honestly didn't think Butch would ever act like...like that. She blushed. It was...strangely endearing.
Buttercup's eyes widened and her blush deepened as she mentally smacked herself. What the hell, brain? Don't even go there! I—I should probably go before the bell rings. My mind is seriously all over the place right now. Jesus.
And just like that, the bell rang.
She sighed in relief. Perfect timing. Then she flew off to her Socials class, unaware of the presence of a dark-haired boy standing nearby, a little ways away.
He watched her go. I'm sorry, Buttercup. But this is for your own good. He took a deep breath and then he was gone too.
Meanwhile, Buttercup entered her Socials classroom. She searched the room for those she was looking for. Almost immediately, her gaze pinpointed on Brick, Ross, Boomer, and Butch, all of whom were staring at their desks. They all looked exhausted—even Ross.
Buttercup slithered into her seat beside Butch. She glanced at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. She looked over at Brick and Ross. Brick was staring out the window away from her—deep in thought or something, and Ross was staring at his desk or lap. Boomer was listening to music, gaze distant and eyes staring off into space, almost in a sad manner.
None of them seemed to be really there.
She took a deep breath, knowing that now wouldn't be a good time to talk to any of them. She wouldn't get answers out of any of them—and again, not even Ross seemed like he would talk to her. And considering what she thought happened between her and him this morning...
Before she could contemplate it any further, Mr. Evans stood up from behind the computer at his desk, clapping his hands. "Good morning, class!"
A few people returned the greeting with their own half-hearted version. Only a few people called out enthusiastically.
Mr. Evans frowned. "Come on, class. It's a new day! We can do better than that. Let's try again: GOOD MORNING, CLASS!"
"GOOD MORNING, MR. EVANS!" everyone chanted in the typical tone that flowed when students greeted their teachers—you know the one: that awkwardly fake cheery tone in perfect synchronization.
"There! That's better." He fixed his tie, before turning around and walking to the smartboard. "Let's start the morning off with a discussion about current events... Get our heads back into the game, you know?" He turned it on and waited. "Anything exciting happen recently?"
"Ooh, ooh!" A hand shot up into the air, causing everyone's eyes to shoot towards the back row. "I got news for you!"
"Yes, Flash?" Mr. Evans raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting a very intelligible answer from the jock.
Excited, Flash slammed his palms onto the desk. "Did any of you see or hear that giant-ass explosion on the school field? It was huge!"
Buttercup snuck a glance at Butch. He looked unhappy.
"Language, Flash!" The teacher turned around and typed in his username and password for the computer. "But yes, there was in fact an explosion yesterday."
"It was all over the news!" added another kid in giddy excitement. "The police aren't giving out any information but I personally think it was caused by more gang wars."
"Yeah, how else would you explain that giant-ass explosion!" agreed Flash, wording it more like a statement than a question.
"Flash, language!" scolded Mr. Evans.
Buttercup's gaze shot towards Brick and Ross. The red Ruff wasn't responding to the classroom conversation at all, and Ross' eyes were glued to his lap. Neither of them looked like they wanted to say anything about the matter.
"But yes, the matter was in fact all over the news." Mr. Evans turned away and clicked open Google Chrome before typing in "Pokey Oaks High School explosion". He went to the news section and clicked open a page from Townsville Daily's official website. He began to read the article out loud.
"'Yesterday after school, at around 3:30 pm, there was an explosion at Pokey Oaks High School. Police are currently investigating the situation and have no comments to make, while the school's staff are unsure what caused the explosion. Students seem to believe that it is because of the gang wars. Parents think so too and are incredibly worried. They are already demanding the school strengthen security and keep an eye out for more suspicious activity. It's recommended that students stay together and with teachers at all times, and to be careful as they walk to and from school. School may in fact be closed the next day if police believe it is still unsafe. Please remember to be cautious and stay safe, everyone. If anyone has any details, please be sure to contact the police immediately.'"
"How awesome would that be?" Flash hollered as soon as the article was done. "We might get to stay home from school!"
Mr. Evans sighed and rolled his eyes discreetly, but Buttercup caught the annoyed gesture. "Anyone else want to make a comment on the matter—besides Flash?" the teacher asked.
Almost every hand shot up, but of course the teacher's eyes landed on the five students' hands who weren't up.
"Brick? Care to comment?" Mr. Evans raised an eyebrow.
The red Rowdyruff Boy's eyes immediately snapped towards the teacher, although he didn't turn his head. He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was a gang thing, maybe it wasn't."
"You mean it definitely was a gang thing!" shouted Flash.
"Flash, stop calling out!" A vein popped on Mr. Evan's forehead and he removed his glasses, rubbing his temples. "Please, do go on, Brick."
He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to say on the matter," he muttered.
The teacher turned to Boomer. "What about you?"
Boomer glanced at Brick and Butch. Buttercup followed his gaze and saw that now his brothers were actually showing interest in the conversation. This was demonstrated by the way they were glaring at Boomer as if in warning. The blue Ruff's jaw snapped shut. "Umm...I don't know. It was scary, I guess. I was worried."
"I can imagine." Mr. Evans turned back to the class, making Boomer sigh in relief. "This is a big deal, students. Whether or not it was a gang thing, it's still a rather big issue. People are actually in danger—their lives could be at risk. So I want all of you to be careful. Boomer has a right to be worried."
"It's not such a big deal," muttered Butch.
Brick's glare flashed to the green Ruff just as the teacher called on him. "What was that, Butch?"
"Nothing," he replied, his voice louder. "I was just saying that it's probably not going to happen again. Even if it was gang stuff, they can't be stupid enough to come back to the school their explosion set off in."
"You have a point," Mr. Evans agreed, "but I still want everyone to be careful." He looked around the classroom before his gaze settled. "Buttercup...? What do you think?"
She blinked, startled by the sudden call of her name. She straightened her back. "Err... I'm not sure," she began hesitantly, her gaze searching the Ruffs'. They didn't meet her eyes, so she swivelled them back towards the teacher. "It was certainly a little...unexpected."
He nodded. "I agree. I was in this very classroom when it happened. You can probably imagine the shock and fear I felt for myself and for all of you." He paused. "Anything else, Miss Utonium?"
"Well..." She contemplated briefly whether or not to say any more. "I-I did see something..."
Now Brick and the other Ruffs jolted.
She hesitated again, before continuing. "Something weird happened during that explosion. I don't know if anyone here heard or saw anything"—here she looked around, purposefully avoiding the Ruffs' eyes—"but there were these people fighting... And then the explosion—I don't know what was going on, but there was smoke and I saw—I saw someone"—she stopped herself before she could say "Butch"—"and there was this woman, who I didn't recognize. I was—I was worried about the people who got involved with the explosion." What she couldn't say to Ross, she said to the class about being worried about Butch.
Her eyes darted toward Ross. He wasn't looking at her.
Mr. Evans looked surprised. "Wow, Buttercup—this is important information! You should talk to the police about it. I'm sure you Powerpuffs and Rowdyruffs have it all under control, but having the law on your side is always a good idea. All you have to do is describe these people and—"
"No!" Butch blurted out.
Everyone spun around to face him. The level of intensity in Brick's glare increased tenfold.
"What's wrong, Butch?" asked the teacher in concern. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"
"No, I—I just—" Butch cut himself off, swallowing. "Buttercup, are you sure—are you sure you aren't confusing this with something else?"
She stared at him. "What are you talking about...?"
Ross looked up too, seemingly surprised at Butch's sudden outburst.
"Y-You know—maybe you're mistaking this explosion for that...that other one we had awhile back. You know; the one with the woman and the someone you know?"
Buttercup narrowed her eyes. "No, I don't think—"
"Butch may be right," Ross said abruptly.
Her gaze swivelled toward him in shock and even hurt—there was a hint of betrayal writhing inside her. "Ross...?" she questioned.
He didn't look at her. "You guys fight a lot of villains and monsters, don't you? Maybe you're mistaking this explosion for something else. I'm sure you've seen plenty in your lifetime."
"No, I—"
"Buttercup, please." He turned pleading eyes toward her, causing her to freeze. The green orbs bored into her, and she felt her mouth snap shut.
Mr. Evans glanced between the teenagers. "Am I missing something here?" he asked.
Ross turned his penetrating green eyes on Mr. Evans and shook his head. The teacher just nodded, seemingly understanding despite a lack of words.
Buttercup felt confused. Why did my tongue twist like that? Why couldn't I find the words to say no? And why...why is Ross acting this way? She blinked, trying not to feel the unhappiness that had settled within her stomach.
She turned to Ross, but he wasn't looking her way at all.
"So, anyway, now that we're all rejuvenated and energized thanks to that discussion, let's move on to the lesson!" Mr. Evans said cheerfully.
Buttercup swallowed hard. Everyone around me is starting to lie to me in order to cover their secrets. Even Ross. She was almost sure he was avoiding her now, which tore at her heart.
Why? Why are you doing this, Ross?
The realization that she'd have to deal with him not talking to her like he usually did for the rest of the day made her feel anything but rejuvenated like Mr. Evans had claimed.
"You're getting really good at this," Deth Jackson remarked, flipping his remote in his hand as they waited for the loading screen to finish loading.
"It's not like I've ever been bad at video games," Bliss replied, flicking her hair teasingly.
He smiled at her. "Sounds like you've got some experience."
"I do," she giggled.
"Could I ask where from?" he teased.
"From—" She paused, closing her mouth. From hanging out with Braker. She bit her lip.
DJ stood up and stretched, his muscles rippling. He seemed to notice that something was wrong, so he asked, "What's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing." Bliss shook her head. She avoided his gaze. "Never mind. Just forget it; it's really not all that important."
DJ paused the game, setting down his remote. "Oh no. I know that look. You're not telling me everything." He sat back down in his beanie, legs crossed and turned to face her. "Spill."
"There's nothing to spill," Bliss responded, suddenly feeling self-conscious and exposed. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine if you're acting like this." DJ reached out and stroked her cheek gently. "Come on, I know you, Bliss. You don't act all mopey like this for no reason."
She sighed. "It's...personal, okay?" she finally said. "There's no need to—"
DING-DONG. DING-DONG.
DJ looked up and cursed under his breath. "Damn it; did they have to interrupt at such a tender, loving moment? I was about to be the best boyfriend ever," he said dramatically.
She managed a smile. "Just go get the door, dear," she said teasingly.
He smiled back and ruffled her hair. "Glad to see you smiling again, kiddo." Then he vanished out the door, leaving Bliss alone.
She waited patiently, fidgeting. Then almost immediately after he'd left, she heard two voices yell out in surprise at the same time: "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
Bliss jumped up. I recognize that second voice.
Braker!?
She quickly dashed toward the door and peeked out, her heart pounding. She couldn't see the front door from DJ's door though. Bliss smacked her head. Duh; I know that already! She slowly floated toward the stairs and looked down at where the front doors stood.
Braker floated in the doorway, carrying pizza boxes in his arms. Perched on his shoulder was a squirrel—and not just any squirrel; this one had orange eyes!
Bliss gasped. "Bullet...?" she whispered aloud.
Meanwhile, down below, DJ was gaping at Braker, who looked like he'd been in a tussle before he got here. "Since when did you deliver pizza?" He sniffed, looking over Braker's current condition. "Especially considering how poor of a job you seem to be doing. I guess it fits that you have the job of a pizza delivery man then; considering what—or lack thereof—of what you're good at."
Braker snarled. "Don't try to dance around my head with insults and fancy sentence structures. I know exactly what you're saying."
"Do you? Mind repeating that in simplified terms, then?" DJ reached out to take the pizzas, but Braker drew his hands back almost defensively.
Bullet let out a little growl.
"You basically said that I'm only good for delivering pizzas, and that even that's a bit of a stretch."
"Ooh wow, Braker Jojo knows how to translate sentences into simple terms for his simple mind! How amazing," DJ said sarcastically.
The orange Ruff's eyes flashed and he let out a snarl, stomping his foot. "Do you fucking mind!? Enough with the insults! You don't even know what I've fucking been through today."
"Whoa, someone has a temper."
Braker leaned in closer and snarled, "Just pay for the goddamn fucking pizzas and I'll be out of your ugly-ass hair."
"Ooh, aren't you snappy today?" DJ remarked, raising his eyebrows in mock fear.
"Why you little—" Braker grabbed DJ by the collar of his shirt, bundling the fabric in his fist. He got ready to throw a punch despite Bullet's squeaks in protests and desperate claws trying to pull Braker's arm back.
Having seen enough, Bliss descended the stairs. "Guys, stop it!" she called. They both turned to stare at her. She stopped in front of them and put her hands on her hips. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing, dear," DJ said casually.
"'Dear'?" Braker repeated in disgust. He glared at DJ. "Also that's a lie. You're clearly insulting me."
"Being provoked enough to raise your fist is your own problem, not mine."
"Well fuck you—"
"Guys, I said stop it!" she commanded. Bullet squeaked in agreement and out of happiness to see Bliss. The squirrel flew from Braker's shoulder to Bliss'. She smiled at it before turning back to the boys before her. "Why can't you two just get along?"
"Oh I don't know; maybe it's just because of how fucking annoying he is?" growled Braker lowly.
"The same goes for you, Magnus Nocens Lupus," DJ shot back.
The orange Ruff growled.
"DJ, are you insulting him again?" Bliss asked, frowning.
"No, not at all." He looked away from glaring at Braker to flick something off of his t-shirt, as if there was a horrible speck of dust on him that ruined his entire look. He looked up slightly at Braker. "Either get lost or shut the door. You're wasting energy."
"Not like you care. Your electricity bill is probably covered for the next ten thousand years or so." Braker stepped in, still holding the pizzas. "You're fucking loaded; don't deny it."
"That may be so, but the pizzas won't last that long." This time he did manage to snatch them away from the other boy. He shut the door.
Bliss ignored the obvious malice that tainted the atmosphere, instead turning to look at Braker. "So...what did happen to you? Since when did you deliver pizzas?"
He shrugged. "There was this monster terrorizing the city so I beat it up and rescued some guy delivering pizzas. He'd broken his leg though and I told him to take it easy. I took over his job and delivered to the last dozen houses." He wrinkled his nose. "I should've known this posh neighbourhood contained your house."
"I thought you knew my address," DJ muttered, "or did you forget that too?"
Braker began laughing. It was a harsh, scraping laugh, unlike his usual laughter. It didn't sound genuine. It sounded wrong. "As if I'd bother to really memorize your address. I knew your house was around here but every single one of these damn houses look the same."
Deth curled his lip back. "Not like you know anything about architecture."
Braker ignored him as he joined Bliss, causing DJ to stiffen before he saw the orange Ruff reaching for Bullet instead. Braker stroked the little squirrel's head. "Bullet joined me for the ride when I was fighting the monster since we were close to the forest at the time."
"No one else could help you?" Bliss asked. "What's everyone doing?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing?"
She looked away guiltily. Playing video games. Braker had a point. The Ruffs and Puffs' daily lives did sometimes interfere with their crime-fighting. Life wasn't as simple as when they were five anymore.
"Want to join us for dinner?" asked Bliss.
"No!" DJ exclaimed almost immediately. "Father would be most unhappy."
She crinkled her nose. "Why? Does he even know Braker?"
The two boys exchanged looks—the first looks they'd shared without pure anger and hatred seething within. Bliss was quite sure they were hiding something from her.
"Father doesn't like...unplanned guests," DJ finally said. He sounded awkward, which was unlike the charming boy Bliss had come to know. His words hung limply in the air like a ragdoll, and they sounded fake even to her.
"And I really should go home before Him starts to worry," Braker added quickly. "Mojo's got...training...stuff planned for today."
Deth shot him a glare that said "is that the best you can do?"
Braker shrugged and glared back, his eyes reading "hey, it's not any worse than yours".
Bliss frowned. "I insist," she finally said. They both turned to stare at her so she kept talking: "It'll give us a chance to...figure things out. Because you two"—here she gave them a look—"need to seriously work out some major problems."
"We don't have any problems to work out!" Braker cried.
"Or we have problems, but nothing we'd like to work out," DJ added.
"Well, you two agreed on something. I'm sure you can do it again." Bliss glanced down at the pizza boxes in her arms. "Let's set these snacks aside. DJ, prepare a feast."
His mouth dropped open. "Bliss, you can't be serious."
This time she glared up at him, crushing the corner of one of the pizza boxes in her arms. "I am serious," she snapped impatiently. "I may be your girlfriend but I'm not blind to your problems. I'm trying to help you! My goal is for everyone to smile, and this isn't working out.
"You two obviously don't get along and we're going to make sure you guys come to some sort of compromise by the end of tonight."
Deth wrinkled his nose and frowned but didn't protest. Instead, he marched towards the kitchen, seemingly fuming at the idea of eating with and preparing food for Braker.
For awhile there was silence between the two oranges. Then Braker said, "See, that's what I like about you. You don't let people control you—even if that person is your boyfriend."
She smiled. But while she appreciated the compliment, she knew scolding only DJ wouldn't be fair. So she rounded her scolding look on Braker. "Thank you, but DJ's not the only one who needs to get his head screwed on straight. You need to work at this too. Go help him in the kitchen."
Braker sighed and shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. He even smiled a little half-smile. "I guess it's useless to change your mind." She nodded, and he nodded back. "Fine. But I'm only doing this for you." Then he flew away without another protest.
Bliss couldn't help but smile again. It was kind of refreshing, hearing Braker agree to her desire to have him work with DJ. At least one of them didn't complain much, she thought. I guess that's what I like about Braker. He makes the best of things.
She paused. Wait a second... She recalled his words of "that's what I like about you" and immediately blushed. That can't mean... That didn't have anything to do with him maybe having a crush on me, does it?
Bliss swallowed hard. "Right?" she whispered. She sighed. It sounded meek even aloud.
He was dreaming.
He was sure of it.
He looked around. The landscape was different from how he remembered it; it was kind of fuzzy and light, but it felt warm. Flowers dotted the green grass and a sparkling mansion rose up from the ground, meeting the sky.
This was home.
And yet, not. Things were clearly different here. A few statues were out of place, for example. Some flowers were different. There were more people bustling about—servants dressed in finery—carrying linens and other things as they hurried to please their masters.
He could hear giggling. It sounded quiet at first, but steadily got louder until it filled his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut but the noise didn't go away. Blinking, he walked toward the sound.
A girl sat in the grass, small and young. She was dressed in a long milky-white gown with silver accents. She couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. She was making something... Flower crowns.
He walked over to her and just watched her work for awhile. She didn't seem to notice him. He sat down and opened his mouth to say something, before—
"Mother, Father!" The girl jumped gleefully and ran towards a man and woman who were approaching. She hugged their legs, before holding up her crown of daisies. "Look what I made for you, Mother!"
The woman graciously curtsied in order to lower herself and receive the gift.
The man turned to his daughter and smiled. "What about me, darling? Does Daddy get anything?"
She nodded eagerly, holding up the second flower crown. His smile grew with warmth as he also bowed, allowing the little girl to bestow it upon him.
When he stood up, she clapped her hands. "How do you like your presents, Mother; Father?"
"They're lovely, dear. But aren't you forgetting someone?" The mother slowly and gently held something out that she'd been cradling in her arms.
He watched from afar, squinting just slightly to make out the soft pastel blur in the woman's arms. His brain figured it out at the same time the girl cried out happily, "Michael!"
Her mother nodded, red hair vibrant and fierce against the other pastel colours. "Did you make something for your brother, Christie?"
"Of course I did!" she exclaimed indignantly, pulling out a much smaller crown of daisies. She placed it atop the baby's head and kissed its forehead. "To grow up big and strong," she proclaimed.
The mother and father exchanged warm looks and smiles as she did so, before looking down at their daughter. Then the scene froze.
They were the image of the perfect family.
Together. Happy.
He swallowed. This was nothing like the family he knew today. Everything was different now. The precious, innocent little girl had grown up to be much more dangerous and unhappy. The parents were cold blocks of ice now; both literally and figuratively.
The scene rewound until the girl was sitting down again, and she was still twining flowers together to form the crowns. He stood there a moment later before sitting down beside the girl and watching as she continued to make her flower crowns.
For awhile they just sat like that in pure silence. The mother and father didn't show up.
Then the girl spoke: "I know you're there."
Startled, he turned to look at her. She didn't look like an innocent little girl anymore. Now her turquoise eyes were rose-red. Tears and darker red blood leaked from her eyes. She wasn't smiling.
He scrambled backwards. "How can you see me?" he whispered.
"I can see EVERYTHING," she replied, her voice distorted. Giant bat-like wings sprouted from her back. Her nails turned into dangerous claws. Her nose became like a snout. She grew fangs that already dripped with blood.
He wanted to scream but he couldn't find the voice.
The little girl slowly stood up as she stepped on some of her flower crowns, crushing them. He then noticed just how many there were—hundreds of them now littered the grass. And each one her foot touched became soaked with blood.
"You should WAKE UP," she said.
"I want to," he answered, his heart pounding. "I want to."
"WAKE UP." She took a step forward.
He scrambled back further. "No—g-get away from me—"
She reached out, but before she could do anything, a stake stabbed through her heart and she collapsed, blood gushing from the wound until it covered the entire field. The grass became red before draining away, and thus so did the flowers.
He was still shivering, sitting there in a backwards crawl. He looked up.
The girl was standing there, but she was older now. She carried the stake that had wedged into her younger self's heart. She still wore the same dress. Tears poured from her beautiful turquoise eyes and down her cheeks. She looked so, so sad. It drove a wedge through his own heart.
The evil little girl vanished into thin air.
"Michael," the older girl said.
He couldn't answer.
She stepped toward him and reached out as well, but this time he didn't try to run away. He let her touch him. As soon as they made contact, the field exploded into sparkles and vanished. All that remained were the daisies against a glowing white background of nothingness.
"Please wake up," she said pleadingly, gazing into his eyes. She stroked his cheek. "I miss you. I love you. Please—wake up."
"I miss you too," he whispered.
She smiled sadly before suddenly turning into her younger self again. The two stared at each other for awhile. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but she spoke first.
"I'll be waiting for you."
Then she grabbed her flower crowns, turned around, and bounded toward her mother and father, who were approaching the two.
When she finished going through the scene again, she turned to look at him and say, "Michael, let's remember this moment forever. I never want to forget it."
He reached out and felt a camera appear out of thin air, so he snapped a picture. As he gazed at it, the picture morphed into modern day. His mother and father were older. He manifested into view as an older kid. She was older too.
And all of a sudden, Michael felt home.
"I'm coming," he promised to the picture. He could practically see her beaming.
"Good," she'd say, "I'm glad you're finally waking up."
Michael took a deep breath and put the photo away. Christie, I'm coming home.
"Buttercup, what's wrong?"
She ignored him, instead continuing to stomp through the hallways of Pokey Oaks High. School was now over and her sisters had all separated for their after school activities. Blossom and Brick were on a date. Bliss and DJ were having dinner together. Banana and Bunny had work on some secret project. And Bubbles had vanished into thin air as soon as the bell rang. Buttercup had no one to talk to about her problems.
No one, that is, except Butch.
She glanced back just slightly and could see from the corner of her eye that he was still tailing her. While she stormed through the hallways, he followed closely in the air.
"Butterbabe, c'mon—what's the matter?"
"'What's the matter?'" she repeated. "'What's the matter!?'"
He winced. "Umm...yeah—?"
"I'll tell you what's the matter!" she interrupted. "NOTHING!" Then she whirled around. "Just leave me alone, Butch Jojo!" As she continued walking, she hoped that he wouldn't follow her—although...at the same time, she kind of wouldn't have actually minded if he did—
A dark-green streak appeared in front of her as Butch caught up to her. "I could leave you alone," he began, "but I don't think that's what you need right now."
"What I need," she shot back, "are answers—that you seem to refuse to give."
"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "But they're not mine to give away."
"You could at least try," she protested.
"Try what? Get myself in trouble—and you too—all because I don't have any self-control?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Butch, I'm losing my own self-control here. Sooner or later my patience will be gone and someone will be dead if I don't get any answers."
"You don't mean that."
"How do you know that?" She glowered at him, folding her arms.
"You wouldn't kill anyone. Even me." He smiled. "Come on, BC. Don't kid yourself."
Sighing loudly, she rolled her eyes. She also blushed slightly, glad to have looked away. Butch's smile was too much all of a sudden, and it made her heart speed up. She wasn't quite sure why.
From the corner of her eye, she managed to pick up on something. Perking up, she opened her mouth to call out.
"And Buttercup, there's something I've been meaning to tell you..."
"ROSS! Hey, ROSS!" she yelled out, unintentionally interrupting and talking over Butch. She stopped and turned back apologetically to the green Ruff. "Sorry," she mouthed, "we'll talk in just a second."
His lips became pressed in a thin line but he nodded.
She smiled thankfully for his patience and turned back to Ross. "Ross—!" She froze. He'd completely vanished.
Butch seemed to notice her sudden mood change. "What's wrong now?" he asked, with a hint of sarcasm and impatience lacing his tone.
She ignored that part. "I think Ross is avoiding me."
Butch paused, surprised. "Legit?"
"Legit," she confirmed.
"But—But he likes you—"
She shrugged. "I guess not enough." Despite her attempts to sound aloof about the matter, she came off a little strong.
Butch frowned. "But—"
"There's no but's!" she interrupted fiercely, frustrated at him. "Ross is ignoring me and I'm 95% sure at this point!"
"Buttercup... He likes you though."
"Butch, you already said that."
"But not just as a friend. As a—"
"Christ, Butch—I told you; no more but's."
Frustrated, he raked a hand down his face. "I legit can't handle you right now, BC."
"Then just leave!" she yelled. "Everyone else is doing it too!"
He glanced around. "Speaking of which... Where are your sisters?"
"They're all busy," she muttered back.
"...Oh. Ohhhhhh." He gazed at her intently, understanding dawning.
She frowned. She disliked being looked at as if she had been all figured out. "'Ohhh' what?"
"Ohhhhh as in 'you're feeling lonely, aren't you?'"
"...No."
"You really are feeling lonely."
"Shut up!"
"Look, how's about this? I'll fly you home."
"I don't need someone to fly me home. Especially if it's out of pity."
"Oh, come on, B. I'm trying to help you out here."
She crinkled her nose. "If you want to help me, you'd give me some real answers to my very real questions."
He ignored her last statement. "Come on, let's fly home together."
Buttercup hesitated. It was actually kind of a tempting offer. Finally, she sighed. "Alright, fine. But don't think I'm any happier just because you offered to fly with me." She turned away. "Come on; let's go."
The two greens took off, and for awhile they flew in silence, watching as the city rolled by.
Then all of a sudden, Butch said, "He really does like you, you know."
Buttercup skidded to a stop as if she were braking a car. Butch flew past her and had to spin back around. "Where did this even come from?" she spluttered, keeping afloat.
He frowned. "It came from your worries about him ignoring you," he responded, making it sound as if it were clear as day.
"I'm not worried—" she began to interject.
"Ross thinks of you pretty highly, BC."
"I-I don't need you telling me that." She was aware of rose-pink beginning to blossom over her cheeks so she forced herself to scowl. "Stop speaking such silly 'feely-feely' nonsense."
"Buttercup, I'm serious."
"So am I."
He flew closer to her and reached out. She flinched, and he sighed as he lowered his hand. Butch looked away, his emerald-green eyes anxious. "He does like you, and I'm 99.5% sure of it. I don't know why he's ignoring you today, but—"
"Just forget about it!" she snapped, glowering at him. "I don't care what he does."
"But you do," he insisted. "I can see it in the way you're acting."
"Are you trying to explain me?" she demanded.
"No, I just—"
"WELL YOU'RE WRONG! I'm not that easy to read, and I sure ain't hung up on some boy!" she yelled.
"Buttercup, shhh—"
"Why don't you shut up!?" she demanded, crossing her arms stubbornly as she glared back at him. She wiped her eyes, feeling something kind of wet on her cheek. "I'm not that kind of girl, Butch. I don't give two shits what he sees or doesn't see in me."
"But he sees so much in you."
She snorted. "Yeah, right." She turned to go.
"No, he really does!" he insisted, reaching out and clamping a hand on her wrist. She turned to stare at him. "Ross clearly cares about you. He likes you, Buttercup"—before she could interrupt, he talked over her—"as more than just a friend."
That caught her attention. She froze.
"He likes you," Butch repeated desperately. "Can't you see that?"
"But he—"
"He's ignoring you. I know. I don't know why, but that doesn't change anything. I'm sure he likes you." Butch hesitated. "The only problem is I—" Here he stopped.
"What?" she asked, staring at him with wide eyes. "You what?"
He hesitated some more. Then he sighed. "Never mind," he said in a resigned manner. He swallowed. "Maybe some other time."
Buttercup frowned at him in confusion, but that didn't last long. Her brain was too busy racing about other things, like the fact that Butch thought Ross liked her.
And perhaps I like him too.
The blush spread through her cheeks.
Perhaps it's time to face my feelings.
Perhaps it's time I tell Ross my feelings.
Christie was pacing. Up and down, up and down, in circles and all around. She was beginning to think she'd wear grooves into the floor before the day was over.
"I'm getting dizzy just watching you," Vix stated.
She ignored him. She was still pissed off at him for everything he'd said before. And to her further irritation, she'd discovered he'd meant what he said when he had told her he'd watch her more carefully. Vix had followed her everywhere he could since they had had their argument. And Christie knew he knew how much she wanted to be left alone.
He was deliberately not listening to her feelings and that pissed her off more than anything.
He didn't say anything else, probably sensing her disdain.
And that was just fine by her.
The door opened and Christie spun around. "How is he?" she demanded.
Raymond blinked his warm chocolate-brown eyes at her. They were so similar to Damon's own sinister brown eyes that it sent shivers down her spine, and yet they were also so kind and gentle. "He's possibly waking up," he reported softly.
Christie relaxed for a split second, and then she was pushing past Raymond for the room behind him. She was vaguely aware of Vix jumping up after her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was—
—Michael.
He was still tossing and turning, thrashing about. Their mother and father were sitting with him. Maggie held her son's hand and Chris was watching the boy intently.
Apparently while Raymond had been talking to the couple, Michael had began moving. Soon he was doing much more than just shifting around—soon he was doing a whole lot of flailing and kicking, as if there was something out to get him in his dreams. Then he'd stopped, and now he'd started up again. Raymond had been watching him since the first sign of life in the boy.
Christie started pacing up and down before the foot of Michael's bed, but this time with her head turned to watch her brother at all times. Vix sat down in a chair near the door, and no one paid him any attention except Raymond, who had come back in.
They waited in tense silence for what seemed like eons.
Christie stopped her pacing and marched over to where Michael lay. She grabbed her other hand. "You should wake up," she pleaded. "Wake up."
She pleaded for awhile longer, but his thrashing only became more violent. Tears pooled from her eyes.
Finally, she said, "I miss you. I love you. Please—wake up." The tears began to fall.
"I miss you too," Michael whispered in a rasp.
Everyone froze.
"I'll be waiting for you," she tested. And she let his hand go.
He stopped moving briefly.
Everyone held their breaths and waited. And waited.
Finally, he announced, "I'm coming."
Christie smiled with relief and felt the tears come again. "Good," she breathed, "I'm glad you're finally waking up."
And then a brief second later, Michael opened his eyes.
Everyone froze. Then they all began to cheer.
Christie's mouth spread into a delighted, relieved grin as her eyes sparkled. Tears came out strong and fast, and she was on him in an instant; her arms wrapped around him and she cried into his shoulder.
"I'm home," Michael whispered, before beginning to cough.
She pulled back and studied his face. "How do you feel?" she demanded. "Are you okay? Does anything hurt?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine. I mean, I feel tired and something aches, but I think I've healed up enough."
She poked him in the chest gently, close to his bullet wound. He winced. "You lazy asshole, making me worry like that. You feel tired? All you've been doing is sleep!" Despite her tone, her eyes were still glittering with amusement and joy and she was grinning.
He smiled back at her. "Sorry for making you worry."
"As you should be," she huffed. She turned to look around the room. "A lot's happened since you've been gone," she said. "For instance..." Here she nodded at Maggie and Chris. "Mom and Dad are back."
"Mom! Dad!" he gasped happily, throwing his arms around them. He began laughing and crying at the same time. "I missed you two so much."
Christie watched with a smile on her lips and in her eyes.
Vix joined her. "I guess this means that's one thing off the list of things to worry about."
"Yes, and I'm so happy." She turned to beam at him. "I—" Christie faltered. I'm supposed to be mad at him, she scolded herself. She turned away. "Never mind," she finished quietly.
From the corner of her eye, she was surprised to see Vix look hurt. He blinked as he slid his hands into his bell-top sleeves. But he said nothing, and she said nothing.
All eyes turned back to Michael, and the celebrations began.
From where they were standing, the ocean was beautiful. It was illuminated by the afternoon sun, which caused sparkles to shimmer along the waves. The sea was calm and there was barely a cloud in the sky.
Brick gazed at Blossom with a smile on his face. She looked so beautiful, and he was so happy and proud knowing that she was his. It just felt so right.
Blossom, meanwhile, was staring up at the sky with a large smile of admiration, eyes wide. The sight was just so beautiful. It wasn't often she came to the beach, but Brick had known that it would be quiet during this time of day and he wasn't asking to skip class or anything, so she'd agreed to go. It was a date.
They'd had so much fun the entire day; romping around, collecting seashells, having a picnic, and just chatting in general. Now it was getting later and Blossom knew she'd have to go home soon. She didn't want to though—the sea was just so beautiful, and she was having so much fun here with Brick.
He walked closer to her and reached out to hold her hand. "I guess you should get going, huh."
"Yeah, I probably should." She smiled at him. "Thanks for the great time."
"Anytime," he answered promptly. Then he paused. "So..."
"Yes?" she prodded, tilting her head to the side.
"...This is the part where we kiss, right?" He looked uncharacteristically shy as he stood there.
She giggled, "Yes, of course". Then she leaned in, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.
When they pulled back, Brick kept a firm grip around her waist as he smirked gently. "Gets me every time."
"Same here," she agreed in a breathless whisper. Every kiss they shared shot a spark down her spine.
"Well... See you later, I guess," he finally said, gazing into her pink eyes.
Blossom gazed back into his own dark-red ones and nodded. "See you later."
He leaned in and gave her one last kiss on the forehead. "Bye."
Blossom pulled away and smiled. "Bye. Thanks, Brick; I had fun."
"That's good to hear. I did too," he replied, before flying into the air. He waved once, then disappeared with a ruby-red streak.
She watched him go before walking away. Blossom didn't get far though, suddenly stopping when she heard a voice call out for her.
"Blossom...? Is that you...?"
Spinning around, her eyes widened as she saw who it was. "Vincent!" she gasped.
The boy with red hair and green eyes nodded, stepping out into the open. He'd been standing nearby, behind a cluster of rocks. She hadn't noticed him at first, but now all she noticed was him. "Hi, Blossie."
"H-Hi," she stammered, recalling that the last time she'd properly talked to him, he'd confessed his feelings for her. And while she'd been elated, she had had to focus her energy on helping Brick from his unconsciousness—and that had meant rejecting Vincent when she'd found out that the one she liked was Brick.
Vincent walked closer to her before stopping. The two stood there for awhile in awkward silence.
Then Blossom asked after some hesitation, "Vincent...?"
He paused, turning to smile at Blossom. "Yes...?"
"No hard feelings, right?" She smiled awkwardly.
He blinked, before smiling back kindly. "Oh no, none at all! Of course not."
"Oh, thank God. I was worried you'd be mad I chose Brick over you."
He stared at her, before bursting out laughing. "What? That was it? Of course I'm not bitter over that."
Blossom blinked, now taken aback by his carefree attitude. This didn't sound like the Vincent she knew. Besides that, she should've been relieved, but now she was a little disappointed...for some reason. "Really...?"
He stopped laughing to say, "Really." He smiled. "It's not hard to move on, Blossom. You made your decision, and I respect that."
"...Oh." She bit her lip to blink down at her feet. Why am I so upset? This is how it should be. I shouldn't mind, she scolded herself fiercely. What is wrong with me?
Now he seemed to notice her sudden change in attitude. He tapped his finger against his chin. "Welllll..." Here Vincent leaned in closer and studied her. "Now that I think about it, I am actually a little bitter. I really like you, Bloss. I didn't want to worry you so I said that, but maybe I'm more upset than I realized. I miss you, Blossom."
"R-Really?" Now she brightened for some reason, feeling better. Then she deflated a little. "I-I mean... I already chose Brick, Vincent." She said the words without as much conviction as she would've liked. I like Brick, don't I? I know I do, so why do I sound so half-hearted right now?
"Yes, and too bad," he agreed.
She looked away. That didn't make her feel much better.
Meanwhile, from afar, Brick watched with anger burning in his red eyes. He'd come back after realizing he'd forgotten a textbook in Blossom's picnic basket. And this is what I find? Brick felt fury course through his veins, along with what he could only assume was jealousy. Deciding he didn't like it, he leapt out and yelled, "Leave her alone, Vix!"
Vincent glanced up and took a step back. "Good day to you too, Brick."
"Leave my girlfriend alone. I don't need you flirting with her and trying to steal her away. Stop lying to her—you don't care for her at all, do you, Vix?"
The other boy raised an eyebrow, folding his arms defiantly. "What are you implying? I greatly care about Blossom. I do believe I cared more about her than you did."
"Bullshit," growled Brick.
"Your feelings toward her were quite confusing awhile back," he continued. "It was difficult telling whether or not you truly cared about her. And after you got that amnesia—"
Blossom glanced back between Brick and Vincent. She should've been rooting for Brick or telling Vincent off, but she stayed quiet. Her tongue seemed to have tied itself into knots and she didn't know what else to say. In fact, in her eyes, Vincent was making some pretty valid points.
"That was then; this is now!" Brick snapped back. "My feelings aren't conflicted anymore. I have decided that I truly do care about her and want her as my girlfriend. And you better stay away from her or I'll rip you to shreds because I know you don't truly care for her!"
Shouldn't that make me feel better? So why don't I? Blossom mused. Why does that sound kind of petty? Brick doesn't know Vincent at all. He doesn't know his caring, sweet nature, or that he's— She stopped herself, blushing. What is wrong with me!? Why am I being so disloyal to my own boyfriend all of a sudden? Am I really still not over Vincent? How can this be? I thought I already made my choice.
...Didn't I...?
Vincent started talking again, drawing her out of her whirling thoughts. She turned to give him her attention. "And I believe you have me mistaken for someone else. Who is this Vix you speak of? My name is Vincent, remember?"
"Yeah... What's going on, Brick?" Blossom asked, narrowing her eyes as she turned back to her boyfriend. Why is he calling him "Vix"?
Brick looked taken aback. "What are you talking about? I'm pretty sure you're Vix." He frowned, glaring. "Stop trying to hide it."
Blossom frowned. What is he doing? This isn't right! Why is Brick being so petty and rude?
Meanwhile, Vincent shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. I'm Vincent through and through. This Vix character you mentioned might not truly care for Blossom, but I do."
"What?" Now Brick looked really taken aback and unsure. He hesitated. "That can't be right. No; stop lying, Vix; I know you're him. There's way too many similarities; way too much evidence—"
"Brick, listen to me. I grew up with normal parents who named me Vincent. I was born in California and moved here three years ago to make a business deal with Danes. I like reading and studying and playing music and even the occasional sport. I am not, nor have I ever been, this Vix person."
"You're...really not him?" He took a step back, suddenly looking flustered.
Blossom watched Brick, admittedly rather unimpressed by her boyfriend's attempts to dissuade any of Vincent's advances, which didn't even feel like romantic advances.
"No, I'm not. Never even heard of the name."
"But I'm sure you are. You have to be," Brick insisted.
Blossom rolled her eyes. "Give it up, Brick. I don't know why you care about or think he's this Vix guy so much, but he's clearly not."
"But you don't understand! Vix and Vincent look the same, are the same age, are friends with Ross and his gang, and they—they both—"
Vincent sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the area between his eyes. He looked at Brick and narrowed his eyes, frowning. "Prove it."
Brick took a step back. "Well, I—"
"If you can't prove it, then I am not this Vix you speak of. I am Vincent." He said these words with such ferocity that Brick stopped stepping back and looked completely lost for a moment.
He managed to recover though, but it was clear he had no evidence. Brick narrowed his eyes but said nothing, scowling.
Vincent smiled. "That's what I thought. Well, that's enough putting up with you for one day." He spun around and began to walk off, before pausing. "Oh, and Blossom...?"
"Yes, Vincent?"
He glanced at her and smiled. "I'll be thinking of you."
As he got further and further away, Blossom watched him go rather wistfully. She sighed. "What a sweetheart, unlike someone I know," she mused as he disappeared, before turning to glare at Brick. "What was that all about? That was kind of embarrassing, watching you fumble like that. You were being so rude!"
"You could've helped me out," he said defensively.
"I didn't even know what you were trying to say!" she cried, exasperated.
"Well, I-I thought he was..." He trailed off.
"Whatever it is, you thought wrong, mister," Blossom interrupted fiercely. "Vincent isn't the type to flirt with another man's girlfriend. I am my own woman and may talk to whomever I wish. At least Vincent isn't a senile, jealous man."
Brick scowled. "You sure sound as though you like him a lot."
She sighed, "Oh don't you start. Are you seriously being jealous? Why on earth are you jealous? Vincent's not going to take me away from you. He's not even going to try. I told you; he's a sweetheart, not some conniving bad guy."
"I'm not jealous."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"NO, I'M NOT! I am NOT jealous!"
Blossom sighed and shook her head, leaning in closer to give Brick a kiss on the nose. This time, there was less of a spark than usual. "Oh, forget it. This is ridiculous." As she pulled back, she added, "Stop being so mean to Vincent. I don't know what this Vix guy did to you, but he's obviously not the same guy."
Brick scowled. "Oh, we'll see about that."
"Brick," she said sternly.
He sighed, "Oh alright, fine." There was no real agreement to his tone though, and he added in a grumble, "But I'm pretty sure he's Vix."
Blossom pretended not to hear him. "I have to go now. Bye, Brick. Behave yourself around Vincent, 'kay?"
He didn't answer.
"Brick."
"Oh, alright," he huffed, arms crossed.
She began walking away. "Bye," she said, waving slightly.
He just nodded slightly to acknowledge her. "Bye," he muttered gruffly.
Blossom frowned before taking off into the air. She glanced back only once, and Brick was still in the same position, arms folded and eyes narrowed in a glare at nothing in particular. Oh, whatever. If he wants to be that way, then fine. Let him be that way. She flew faster, just wanting to get home.
He was working in his lab, checking on the mechanics of the equipment he had inside. "Hmm... I'll have to recalibrate this if I want the recovery process to work out." He frowned. "Well, that might take awhile."
He sighed. "I'll have to wait till tonight when I can get some help." With that, he glanced around. "Speaking of help, where is that—? BLAST, IT STOPPED WORKING."
Growling, he hit the small device on the side and it responded with a bit of a shudder before switching back on. The lights blinked before he nodded in satisfaction.
"Now, I just need help to arrive." He looked up at the door. "It's almost 7:00, which is curfew—"
Just then, knocking sounded, interrupting his thoughts.
Blinking, he set down the clipboard he was carrying and walked up the steps towards the door. He glanced back at his lab and sighed.
Then he walked towards the front door and opened it.
The person standing before them was a teenager dressed in a casual outfit. "Hello, Father," they greeted.
"What are you doing home so late?" He shook his head, letting out a "tsk, tsk" as he let the person in. "Didn't I tell you not to stay out too late?"
"Apologies, Father," the teenager said, walking inside. They took off their coat and hung it on the wall. "I was simply out dealing with some business, is all."
"Oh? Mind telling me what you were doing?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Talking to Brick," they answered. "He wasn't in a good mood today."
"Oh, well. Let's not deal with him now." Waving his hand dismissively, he nodded at a room. "Dinner's ready for you."
"Yes, Father."
"Don't forget to wash up."
"Yes, Father."
"Oh, come, child; sit down and talk with me," he said, patting the seat across from him.
They sat down. "Yes, Father?" This time it was worded as a question.
"Didn't I tell you that you can talk to me much less formerly? I appreciate the way you speak to me, but really; there are some times where I wish you would just relax a little."
"Sorry, Father." They blinked at him, their lips becoming a thin line. "I'm just not quite used to 'relaxing', as you say, in your presence."
"Are you saying that I am treating you not enough like a child? Am I not being a good father?" He raised an eyebrow.
"No, Father."
"Oh come now. There's no need to lie to me." He waved his hand. "Tell me what I could do to be a better father."
"Well..." They hesitated. "I suppose you treat me more like an employee than your own child nowadays, Father."
"Really? Moi?" His eyebrow arched upwards. "Well then."
They looked down. "It wasn't an accusation, Father."
He sighed. "No, no. You didn't offend me at all. I'm actually quite glad you told me. I'll take that into consideration and attempt to be a better father."
"Yes, Father. Thank you, Father."
"No problem. Now, tell me about your day."
"It was fine," they said, averting their gaze. "Nothing special happened."
"What did the school say about the explosion?"
"As expected, the school was quite busy talking about it. But there was nothing worth noting, Father. It's not like they know very much."
"Oh, don't worry about what they do and don't know. They can speculate whatever they wish."
"Yes, Father."
"All I need you to do right now is observe."
"Yes, Father."
"Now hurry along to your room. You need to recharge. After that, we can enjoy your dinner."
"Yes, Father."
"Oh, and Vincent? Don't forget what I told you a few days ago. You can have all the fun you want, but in the end, you still have to fulfill my plans."
The teen paused but didn't object. "Yes, Father," he finally said, before walking away.
As the kid vanished into another room, he sat back down in his seat and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. My son has finally returned to school. Well, this is certainly getting interesting. Let's see where else this goes.
He smiled.
*(A/N: Reference to chapter 56!)
**(A/N: Reference to chapter 44!)
ME: Alright, finally done! So Buttercup has something to say to Ross, Braker's having dinner with DJ and Bliss, Cassandra's back, Michael's back, and look, even Vincent's back! I know a few of you will be so excited about that! *coughs, winks*
VINCENT: Oh, sure.
ME: But hey, we get to look at more of Vincent's life! If any of you are wondering why I kept that last scene so ambiguous, it's mostly because it kinda works as the Professor and Blossom, but in a more distant relationship way.
BLOSSOM: So...it parallels it.
ME: Yup!
BRICK: We don't even need Vincent back in this story. *snarls* I could just kill him now.
ME: Ooh, Brick's jealous! But no, you can't kill him yet.
VINCENT: Don't look at me like that! This is the author's fault, not mine. It's not like I want to be here!
ME: Oh don't make me feel so bad. Anyway—
VINCENT: *grumbles* Oh sure, you seem totally guilty.
ME: —I actually wrote a really important scene for this chapter but it got too long so I ended up cutting it.
BLASTER: And...is that scene still a scene? Or is it cut completely?
ME: It's still a scene. *winks* It'll be in the next chapter. It's an important one, after all.
BUTCH: Well when do you plan on updating again?
ME: Uhh...soon?
BUTTERCUP: Well that's specific.
ME: Sorry, it's the best I can do right now. I hope it'll be up soon enough.
BUTTERCUP: *sighs* Okay.
ME: Well, merry Christmas again, everyone!
BUTTERCUP: And please leave a review as a Christmas present! *smirks*
ME: Bye, everyone! Hopefully we see you all soon!