Chapter 22: I'll be Home for Christmas

Well, this had certainly put a damper on his good mood. William's outburst was one thing, but Wesker couldn't elucidate the strange feeling inside him as Claire left. His proprietorial propensity for her aside, he knew it to be more than carnal desire. There was a longing he couldn't quite articulate. It wasn't exactly new, however, just something he hadn't felt in years.

It only vexed him further and so he buried it - again. What did it matter, anyway? Her departure was temporary. He was not finished with her yet.

In spite of that, he still cursed Claire's infernal faculty as the only one able to disconcert his self-control.

Alex folded her arms, quirking a sly smile. Wesker scowled in response, predicting what was about to play out.

"Was that really necessary?" She was referencing how he handled William.

Wesker shrugged. "He will get over it."

He was adamant with his words, yet he frowned anyway. Wesker had expected his old friend to be upset, sure, but nothing quite like this. William's occasional overdramatic and childish tendencies aside, it was unlike him to dispute with Wesker. He pursed his lips, thinking. Something must've happened while I was away…

"Yeah, you're right," Alex agreed, much quicker than usual, which meant she was ready to hound him on another matter. Wesker inwardly sighed when she grinned mischievously at him. "Oh Albert, I'm just dying to know about that girl!"

Wesker snorted. "Dying, hmm? Well you might as well perish then. Claire is not open for discussion."

She put her hands on her hips with a slight roll of her eyes. "Oh come now, brother. Don't be that way! She's ravishing, she's feisty…she's young. You know, she reminds me of Anezka?" Wesker cringed. Alex noticed and continued to angle. "What you're doing with her though…it's peculiar behavior, especially for you. You didn't act this way with Anna."

"Stop uttering that name," he growled.

His "sister," if that's what she really was, smirked. "Anna, Anna, Anna!" Wesker deeply inhaled, gritting his teeth as she playfully patted his cheek. "See? That's not so bad, right? Honestly, Albert, it's silly to retain such resentment towards a bitch who walked out on you years ago."

As if she needed to tell him that.

"Is Claire some sort of experiment? To gain control over what happened with Anna, even after so -?"

Wesker seized Alex by the throat, catching her by surprise. She gasped, his fingers barely squeezing. A warning. He held back, despite his sudden anger that she provoked. Only because she was kin. Only because she was exceptionally useful.

"Claire has nothing to do with Anna. Her fire is completely different and I want it…all for myself. I see something in her that no one else does. She has been complimentary to our ambitions thus far. Every adversity she has faced, every test I have given her, she has surpassed my expectations. She's fortunate I find her so…intriguing. Otherwise, I would have disposed of her already."

Alex's brows furrowed, her much smaller hands clasping his forearm as she winced. There was a shimmer in her eyes, possibly some kind of realization, and the corner of her lip twitched. "So she is an experiment. For the future. Beautiful!" She half-choked a laugh and snarked, "A queen for your rule, perhaps?"

"Your jealousy is always perplexing…" Wesker's sneer matched her bite and he squeezed a bit harder. "Sister."

Then he released her.

Alex coughed, almost reaching into her pocket for her inhaler. She regained her oxygen and her composure, glaring at him. She stepped closer, challenging him. "Well now, you didn't deny it." He returned the glare, but that only made her smile. That half-seductive, charming, know-it-all smile of hers that often nettled him. "You're in love with her. It all makes sense now."

He chuckled at the absurdity. "Believe as you'd like, Alex. I do not need anyone to rule with me, I've just made exceptions for William...and you."

"And now Claire, apparently," she said cheekily. Alex was the only one who could persistently match his cunning stride for stride. Sister or not, Wesker knew he'd have to dispose of her if she ever became a threat. "No need to be so defensive, darling. I am only looking out for you."

Wesker scoffed. "...From Claire?"

His sister scowled. "Your obsession with her has caused quite the distraction for you, hasn't it? Just look at what almost happened with Sergei! I wouldn't have been able to save you this time, Albert!"

He had already acknowledged that, fully aware of what Claire was able to do to him, as infuriating as it was. Distraction, a pull over his self-control, strange feelings he didn't want to contend with…all concepts he couldn't stand. And yet, instead of wanting to snuff the life out of the Redfield girl, it only made him want her that much more. Entirely.

Wesker sensed true concern from Alex now, puzzling him further. His head often hurt after being around her, similar in the way it did after those accursed dreams. She habitually looked at him as a sibling, although on occasion her behavior was unakin to blood, making him suspect their connection. He had no familiarity with blood ties besides Alex, yet Wesker felt he had more of a kinship with William over her. Perhaps it was all a lie. Perhaps deep down they both knew it yet kept up the farce anyway.

In the end, it did not matter. Alex had her own agenda, despite her bond with him. She used him just like everybody else. For now, it would have to do.

He held his arm out for her. "Come along, dear sister. Let's not waste what little time we have together quarreling over resolved affairs."

She half-rolled her eyes with a quick shake of her head and a charmed smile. She linked her arm in his. "Whatever you say, darling." She directed her USS bodyguards while leaving the laboratory. "Take the rest of the night off, boys. Get some rest over at the estate. I'll see you in the morning."

She dreamed of monsters and men. Men that were monsters and monsters that were men. The dangerous events replayed in her mind on loop and mutated into nightmares that could've been. But he reigned her dreams, just as he had reigned the past two weeks of her life.

Monster. Monster. No. He was a man.

Man. Man. No. He was a monster.

Wesker was both.

Even in her dreams he took her. His hands roamed her body, unbreakable like steel, her body anchored beneath him, their hips locked together, his lips claiming every inch of her, his hot breath in her ear. "You're mine."

Mine.

Mine.

Mine.

Why were his eyes glowing red?

Monster!

BANG BANG BANG!

Claire awoke with a start, shoving off the blanket, even though it felt as heavy as him. The dream evaporated, retreating to the dark corners of her mind even as her body still shuddered in terror – no in pleasure – from it.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty! You promised me breakfast and Die Hard!"

Chris's voice booming through her door grounded her, stopping her head from spinning as she sat up. She rubbed her face, sweating, panting. She was trembling.

"Yeah, yeah, you ass!" she grumbled, and got out of bed. She made her way into the bathroom, sick to her stomach, aching and wet between her thighs as though the dream had been real. So real.

She turned the faucet valve and splashed water on her face, staring at herself in the mirror, breathing slowly and deeply.

What the fuck did he do to me?

It seemed Wesker had his hooks embedded in her deeper than she thought. That dream…She couldn't shake it.

Claire dressed and got ready for the day. It was Christmas! She couldn't believe it. She made it. Chris was safe! She did it! It was finally over...Right?

When she left her room, she smelled breakfast. Confused, she made her way into the kitchen, where Chris was already nearly done cooking.

"Hey! I was supposed to cook breakfast!"

Chris grinned as he flipped sizzling bacon. "Aw c'mon, Sis. You were exhausted last night. All that babysitting took a toll on you. Don't worry, I got this. Besides, I'm a better cook." He stuck his tongue out at her.

Claire rolled her eyes with a smile. "Whatever."

"You're in charge of the disc VCR thing though."

Claire laughed. "It's a Digital Video Disc player, aka a DVD, ya bonehead!"

"Oh, right. Thanks for "Claire-ifying" that!" Chris snorted at his own stupid joke.

"Oh my god, you're such a fucking dad," Claire groaned and left the kitchen to go get the movie ready.

She paused in the living room, surveying the set up. It was cozy and simple with the couches and coffee table around the television. Decorations from Chris's days in the Air Force hung on the wall, as well as a photo of all the STARS together, and a photo of him and Claire hugging from just a couple years ago. The Christmas tree sat in a corner lit up like a beacon of hope and peace, but Claire couldn't shake the feeling it was a lie. Just twenty-four hours before, Sergei, Roth, and Bennett had cornered her in this very same room. She tensed while recalling the ordeal: Bennett and Sergei's soldier slugging her hard, them threatening her, Bennett eying her like she was a piece of meat.

None of that mattered now, did it? Albert had taken care of them all. Those soldiers were dead. Roth and Bennett were now under his control. Sergei had been "dealt with", whatever that meant. With Wesker, there was no telling.

Of course he had done all that for himself, but there was more to it. His actions, the way he fondled her throat yesterday and gloated about what he had done to them all, he wanted to make sure she knew…he did it for her, as well. It was Wesker's toxic way of showing he cared for her, while to everyone else, he was marking his territory.

A hand waved in front of her eyes, breaking her trance. She jumped, then Chris's concerned face came into view. "Hey! I said breakfast is ready. You alright?"

Claire smiled and gave him a thumb's up. "Yeah, duh! I was just thinking it's time to paint these walls! Spruce the place up a bit!"

She attempted to squeeze by him to get the movie started, but he grabbed her wrist. The Redfield siblings froze, an unsettling quiet falling over them. Claire held her breath.

"I'm just gonna say it…I still feel like something happened that you're not telling me. Whether it's true or not, I-I don't know. But what is true is that I'm here for you, Claire. No matter what. You're my sister, and I love you."

It hurt. It hurt more than any of the physical injuries she'd received these past two weeks. The guilt stabbed her like a cold dagger through the ribs. So much has happened, Chris. I want to tell you, but then everything I've done will be for nothing. Your Captain isn't who you think he is. He's killed so many people. He blackmailed me. He's involved with some messed up shit. And I…fucked him, more than once. I'm sorry, Chris, I'm so fucking sorry. He would never understand, not now.

She turned around with a reassuring smile, taking his hand and squeezing it.

The most painful thing of all though…she was starting to think she might be in love with Wesker…

And that frightened her.

"I'm fine, Chris. Thank you. I love you so much. I just…" she sighed with a frown. "I miss Mom and Dad, ya know?"

He nodded quietly. "Yeah. Me too." After a silent moment, he returned her squeeze. "Want to take a drive?"

Claire wrapped her arms around him. "After we eat."

The L-shaped corridor was quiet, save for their footsteps on the black-and-white tiled floor. As they made their way towards the main hall, Wesker was struck by how much he abhorred the old wallpaper, torn and faded by chandeliers were unlit as morning broke through the eastern windows, in defiance of the surrounding forest. At night it was so dark outside, it was impossible to see anything. Several of the glass cabinets displayed an assortment of sculptures, pottery, and ornamental plates.

Alex wrinkled her nose after rubbing a finger along the top of one as they walked by. They had just returned from the underground laboratory at Alex's request. She wanted to see the T-002 and Lisa Trevor in person.

"The girl hasn't changed much in the last few years. Such a drab little thing." Alex side-glanced Wesker. "I'm surprised she remembered me. Oh, but she definitely remembers you!"

Wesker half-shrugged, sharp eyes locking onto a familiar portrait on the wall. There, a young Lord Spencer upon horseback held a dead fox aloft, a pack of foxhounds baying around him. "She would kill me if given the chance. Just as she would William."

"Ah yes, I remember that story," his sister recalled with a smile. "William would've been a goner had it not been for you."

"His carelessness cost me two broken ribs and several stitches. He certainly would've been killed."

"And yet I don't hear you chaff him over it."

"Why would I when his ingenuity in the situation led him to discovering Golgotha?"

"I won't argue with that."

Wesker opened the door for her and they stepped into the dim-lit exhibition room. Several highly valuable portraits and photographs decorated the walls. They passed by the "Woman Drawing Water" sculpture and entered the main hall of the Spencer mansion.

The grand hall was busy, even for morning. It had nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with the "king" making his grand departure back home to England for a few weeks.

Servants hauled luggage through the double front doors, where cars idled. A few residents chatted amongst themselves, respectfully awaiting the send-off.

"Oh! Dr. Wesker! Over here!" A relieved, familiar voice called.

It was Patrick, Spencer's top servant. Though they were each Dr. Wesker, he knew Patrick was acknowledging his sister, as they worked closely together. There was no camaraderie between the servant and himself, just one-sided fear and mistrust, and that was fine by him.

Patrick waved them over to the grand staircase where he and Spencer descended from the second floor. The venerable Umbrella founder took slow steps with his cane. The cost of the empire could've simply been a little push…

Spencer stopped two steps from the bottom so he was nearly level with the Wesker siblings.

"My Lord!" Alex greeted with a bright smile. "Getting your exercise in early, I see!"

He put more weight on his cane, smiling at her after a couple of quick breaths. "Might as well, since we have such a long flight ahead of us." Soon his twinkling eyes found Wesker.

Wesker narrowed his eyes at him through his shades. The wretched man's stare always bothered him, as though he was beholding a prized pet, particularly one he wanted to win at one of those loathsome fair competitions.

"Albert, my boy–"

I don't belong to you.

"–good to see you. I appreciate you keeping Alex out of trouble for the night."

Wesker faked a smile. "Of course, Spencer. Always my pleasure."

Alex smacked his arm. "That's Lord Spencer to you, brother."

Spencer chuckled. "It's fine, my dear. I admire Albert's spirit. He has never grown out of his bumptious phase. It's…adorable."

That didn't stop Alex's glare from boring into the side of his face. Still, Wesker couldn't take his eyes off Spencer, already in a stalemate he couldn't quite explain.

Finally, the old lord looked away, turning a smile upon Alex and Patrick. "Why don't you two go on ahead? I would like to speak to Albert alone."

Alex frowned, a hint of concern befalling her. She took a breath of hesitation before recovering with her own forced smile. "As you wish, my Lord." She turned to her brother, and it took every fiber of Wesker's being to rip his eyes away from Spencer long enough for her to kiss him on the cheek.

"It was lovely catching up with you, hun. Be good."

"I'm always good," he lied with a charming smile. "Have a safe flight, dear sister."

Patrick reluctantly left Spencer's side, a split-second look of fear and uncertainty on his face before he concealed it. He and Alex departed the main hall side by side.

"I'm all ears, Spencer. How may I serve you?" Wesker asked with a hint of derision, the words revolting him.

The shriveled king still had enough power to compel his subjects to bow at his every whim. It was against Wesker's nature to bow to anyone. Unfortunately, it behooved him to bide his time and play along.

Spencer's eyes twinkled and he curbed a creepy smile. "I spoke with Sergei earlier. That was quite the debriefing." He tapped his cane with a sigh. "What a ruckus this whole research breach has caused! I wasn't surprised about Ned, but Melvin was unfortunate. Did you know he and James studied at the same university together?"

"It seems you cannot trust anyone these days," Wesker stated apathetically, his eyes pulling away from the "king" and following a passing estate resident heading for the dining room. It wasn't her looks that caught his attention, no, it was her smell, sweet with a little spice. Like honeysuckle and clove. Nearly like Claire's.

"Quite so…"

Before he could drop the thought and compose himself, he had already recalled where her scent had impacted him the most. His bed. Pinned underneath him, his face buried in her neck…

"You discovered the research breach and convinced me to dispose of Melvin and Ned. You were supposed to mitigate the situation posthaste…yet you dropped the ball, putting other operations at risk. That's not like you, Albert. I'm…disappointed."

Wesker was more frustrated from Claire's apparent affect over him than Spencer's "disappointment". In fact, it was laughable to compare. He bared his teeth at the Umbrella founder in a haughty smile, stepping closer since their height was currently level.

He listlessly shrugged. "You win some and lose some."

Spencer snorted, but it didn't faze Wesker. He would willingly take the blame in the open this time, a mere byproduct of his prodigious victory last night.

"We do not win some, we win all. You of all people understand that, Albert. You cannot bear to come in second…especially to Sergei. Why is it different this time?"

Wesker clenched his teeth, breathing calmly through his nose. Always the astute one…

Wesker could never figure out what Spencer was digging for within their rare interactions. It wasn't just his rule over him that he begrudgingly had to play along with. There was something else Spencer sought. Wesker would figure it out eventually.

"I do not waste my time over an outcome I cannot change. I have much more important matters to attend to, as you know. After all, my multifarious jobs keep Umbrella from prying eyes and tattling mouths. They also keep you safe and complacent. No?" Spencer's glare spurred him. "I commend the Colonel's acumen and teamwork in recovering Umbrella's assets…shouldn't you? Umbrella won…that is what matters most."

Spencer slowly nodded, an approving smile forming that held a hint of something foul, something sharp. "You are quite right, my boy."

Wesker cringed as he barely bowed his head. "Safe travels, my Lord. Oh and…Merry Christmas."

He turned away, dropping his fake pleasantries as soon as his back was to the wretch.

"Just a moment, Albert, before you're dismissed," Spencer called before he could get too far.

Wesker inhaled, put on his mask once more, and turned around. "Yes?" he forced.

"You do so much for this company, so much for me. Perhaps it is time you take a holiday."

"I respectfully decline your generous offer."

As he started to turn away once more, Spencer said, "It wasn't an offer, Albert."

Wesker openly glared at him now, clenching a fist as agitation boiled within his veins. The Umbrella founder wasn't fazed, presenting a patronizing smile. "All of next week, your duties within the UID, research departments, and security operations will be temporarily placed on hold. I will be retracting your access to all Umbrella facilities. You'll still have STARS…after all that is your pet project and you must keep up appearances. Please, Albert…take this time to rest and recoup. I mean only the best for you."

Wesker didn't say anything, tearing his glare away from the feeble overlord and leaving. It had nothing to do with rest or caring about him. It was strictly about control. A reminder that Spencer indeed still held power over him.

Despite his anger, he would swallow and endure it. What he gained last night still far outweighed these consequences and would eventually secure him enough power to conquer the throne. The old king's days were numbered. Soon it would be "off with his head" - and Wesker would be the one to sever it from his decrepit body.

The limo ride to his private airstrip just north of the Raccoon Marshaling Yard was quiet and uneventful. Lord Spencer took the time to think, gazing out into the dense, snow-covered Arklay Forest that encased both sides of the road. Patrick sat across from him without a peep, at home with his own thoughts just like his master. Alex also sat across from him, one slender leg crossed as she held a business meeting over her cell phone.

The Umbrella founder recalled his conference with Sergei earlier that morning. It was quite a staggering one-eighty from the previous night. Suddenly, the Colonel apologized for acting "too rashly" on his concerns over this alleged conspiracy. He was "mistaken" over Albert and Ada's involvement. Apparently, the masterminds were just a couple of rogue information brokers that he exterminated. All was handled, all was taken care of. Case closed.

It wasn't the first time that Sergei went back on his suspicions, most notably the ones pertaining to Albert. However, this time was different. Sergei's behavior was…off. Something happened.

Spencer squeezed his fingers atop his knees.

The limo parked and soon his driver opened the door for them. Patrick helped him out. The servants didn't waste time hauling the luggage to the private jet nearby. The runway was cleared of any fresh snow. A bitter wind swept through the open plain between mountains and trees.

Patrick and Alex escorted him to the plane. The chill in his veins, the tightness in his chest, none of it had anything to do with the cold. He didn't say a word as he was helped into his seat onboard.

Sergei had been compromised. His strongest line of defense…outwitted and extorted.

Albert was much closer than he previously thought. How could I have missed it?

Spencer's breathing slowly turned to distressed rasps. Forcing Albert to take holiday was the only way to remind him Spencer still had some control. Soon even that wouldn't be enough. There was just one thread left on the leash…and it was fraying.

Damn you, William. Spencer took deep, calm breaths, giving Patrick a nod to mollify his servant's sudden worry. I need the Prototype Virus finished!

William was so damned attached. The fool just couldn't see that Albert only used him. They weren't friends, they weren't brothers. They were codependent parasites using each other. Spencer needed to find a way to wake William up and fast. He needed to turn him against Albert.

After all these years, all the indoctrination and memory alterations, all the money they put into him…Albert was the template for human evolution. Spencer refused to have decades of eugenics research and experiments in the form of his most valuable asset be lost via extermination. He needed complete control over Albert to start the next step in the experiments, the next generation.

Time was running out. His genetic resources were dwindling. The other Wesker Children were dead. Alex was now sterile, her hereditary sickness an unseen anomaly in her breeding. And of course that wench Anezka Muller took off with the one offspring Albert had sired. He'd exhausted countless resources and hundreds of thousands of dollars to find her to no avail. That child belonged to me!

It was honestly a shame Albert's mother had forced his hand. The young, beautiful geneticist, one of the most brilliant minds he had ever met, was one of the head researchers of the Wesker Project. But after Albert was born, she decided then to have a conscience and tried to escape with him. Maternal devotion had cost her her life, and Spencer a whole day of inconvenience. She could have watched him grow from afar. She could have continued her groundbreaking research. She could have produced more like Albert. Stupid woman.

It didn't take long for the plane to zip down the runway and take flight. Once they reached altitude and leveled out, Patrick got up to get them refreshments. Spencer turned to Alex, now sitting next to him. She was no longer on the phone, but now typed away on her laptop.

Spencer's lips curved up. "I forced Albert to take a week's holiday."

That caught Alex's attention, brows rising almost to her hairline. "Oh? Bet that didn't go over so well with him!"

"He wasn't too happy with me."

Alex shrugged with a soft, nearly inaudible laugh through her nose. "He'll get over it, my Lord. It's good to make him sulk once in a while."

Patrick returned with coffee and water for both Spencer and Alex.

"What did you two discuss overnight?"

Confused, she slowly sipped her steaming coffee, all to come up with a calculated answer. "The usual. Caught up. Discussed research. Went over some new information received at the UID that I have since forwarded to Daniel to make a report."

Daniel Fabron, ugh, that French prat…

"Is that all?"

Alex forced a pleasant smile. "Please…speak your mind, my Lord."

"I'm simply wondering if you two are conspiring against me."

Her brows furrowed in concern this time. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, her eyes locking with his, her next smile genuine. "My Lord, why would you think such a thing? I'm doing what you asked of me. I'm pretending to be his sister and keeping an eye on him. That is what I am doing. I update you on his behavior and intentions every chance I get. It was I who informed you of his mind breaking down the implanted memories and indoctrination, yes?"

Spencer grabbed her hand and squeezed it, presenting her a mollified smile. He would hold off on telling her what happened with Sergei…for now. "Yes, you are quite right, my darling. Perhaps senility is getting the better of me." He let go of her hand to lift his mug and enjoy a long sip of his own coffee.

"Nonsense, my Lord. You are simply being careful and I admire that. You just cannot trust anyone these days…"

Spencer slowly smirked, looking out the oval window of the private jet. The clouds rolled by, puffy and thick. Down below, the morning sun glinted off a vast winter wonderland.

"Quite so," he whispered again, still smiling, and without moving his sharp gaze, added, "I want you to collect everything you can get on Claire Redfield."

Alex's silence wasn't a surprise to him. After all, a random name presented for information tended to have that effect. However, he felt Alex tense beside him…and that told him everything he needed to know. Sergei lied about her disposal. Albert let a witness live for a reason…and forced his knight to cover it up. He would soon figure out why…

"And who, may I ask, is she?" Alex asked calmly.

Spencer turned to her. "I think you have an idea. And if I find out you mentioned any of this to Albert, there will be dire consequences. Get it done."

His prized, beautiful Alex, one of his most astonishing creations, obediently smiled, her blue eyes burning quite the opposite. "Yes, my Lord. Anything for you."

Busy. Have to stay busy…

If he stayed busy, he could focus. If he stayed busy, he didn't have to think about it.

William scribbled notes, looked through the microscope over a hundred times. Different samples, same results. The Golgotha Virus continually regenerated cells, even from dead hosts, completely rewriting the DNA. And never stopped. It just kept mutating, adapting. This in itself made it the most powerful weapon on the planet…and he was the creator.

There was still room for improvement. Golgotha's reproductive abilities still had incongruities. After taking over the host's body, the virus had an unstoppable drive to reproduce, however most hosts became infertile and so it had adapted its own system for procreation. But therein lied the problem. If the hosts weren't related or at the very least shared certain genetic traits, the new host would die, and instead incubated embryos that "hatched" into what he called G Mutants.

Strange looking creatures, but still useful and deserving of research, especially if William was going to improve the G-Virus's reproductive capability. The G Mutants grew to large sizes, carried similar traits to their parent host and the virus's characteristics, such as the teratoma-esque eyes that developed all over the body. G Mutants were able to freely reproduce asexually, yet their offspring were incapable of maturing past a larval stage.

Generational defect…already noted.

He looked into the microscope again. Sample 12-97-31 from Subject 324. He had looked at it nearly a dozen times now. Why?

William pulled back, rubbing his eyes before pinching his nose, sighing. He glanced at his watch. 9:17 a.m. It was Christmas morning. Anne and Sherry were likely up by now. He'd been here since…a little after 4:30?

He couldn't sleep. Try as he might, Albert's little double-dealing had hurt him more than he cared to admit.

Why are you surprised? Spencer warned you. So did others, said a little voice inside his head.

I have to be missing something! He faithfully defended.

That's right, Will. Such a good, loyal puppy. No wonder Al uses you all the time!

William grimaced, staring blankly at his notes, fiddling his fingers, bouncing his heel at an ever increasing tempo. The dread creeped in his chest at the mere speculation of what a rift like this could mean for them. William had no doubt in his abilities and ambitions in his field, in his research. He'd always be on top of his peers in those regards. Even Albert came second to him here, but this snooping behind Umbrella's back, all the threats that lurked constantly, no. He needed Albert. He needed his protection. He needed his guidance and expertise. He needed the sheer fucking power that Albert used to instill fear and bend people to his control. He needed it all.

Terrified in your own kingdom? What a fucking joke…

William had known Albert longer than he'd known anyone else – way before Anne and Sherry. He had no family. No parents or siblings. Nothing. Albert was it. As far as he was concerned, those outside his inner circle could fuck off and die.

Don't think about it. Stop it! Busy. Stay busy…

"Please tell me you are not still pouting."

Startled, Will snapped to attention, nearly tripping over his chair, catching sight of Albert nearby with his brows knitted and head slightly cocked. Will wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there.

The Golgotha creator stood up straight, puffed his chest, and scowled. "Of course not! I'm working!"

"I have never seen you so anxious over work before," his partner replied, obviously fishing.

Will pursed his lips, refusing to take the bait. "Why are you here, Al? Huh? To be a dick? Alex left you to pander to the one man you hate the most and you can't fuck around with Claire right now, yeah? Guess it's my turn again."

"Are you done?"

"I don't know, should we go ask Sergei?"

Albert bit back irritation and sighed. "William."

William took his chance. "You could've gotten into trouble…or hurt. Or worse. And I wouldn't have known about it. I wouldn't have been able to help you! Why? Because you don't trust me? Or because you don't think I could've handled it? What about all our fucking research? Or Anne and Sherry? All the shit we've done behind Umbrella's back? We could've lost everything."

Al didn't say anything. He frowned and looked away, for only a moment, jaw ticking. To anyone else, it would've easily been missed, but William could read him better than anyone else.

A little uncomfortable. Bothered. Adeptly hidden behind his poised facade. Will hadn't seen it in so long, he almost missed it himself.

"Sergei compromised Ada. He used Roth as bait and was closing in on us. Claire warned me before they took her. Roth switched sides and returned her to me. We colluded to disable Sergei's plans and trap him right where I wanted him. We achieved that."

Will scowled. "Great. Glad Roth could be buddy-buddy and save the day!"

Albert glared at him. "Idiot."

William bit his tongue, somehow knowing a reply such as "I know you are, but what am I" would get him a nice Al Knuckle Sandwich.

Finally, Albert sighed, half curling his lip in swallowed exasperation. "There was a small…possibility the plan would fail. I would have been exposed and then extirpated." He paused for a long moment. "Had that happened, you would have been vindicated for any investigation that followed."

William gawked at him, stunned, his chest hurting. He was a little woozy as realization took over. Albert went behind his back…to protect him.

He struggled for words. "Al, I -"

Albert cut him off. "As for Roth's past offense against you, it was one of the first terms of 'employment' under us we discussed. You will get your just compensation, all while Roth plays puppet on our strings. You're welcome, by the way."

William rubbed the back of his head with a scowl, plopping down onto his chair. He squeezed his eyes shut. The tension and anxiety dissipated just like that, and he was left tired, confused, and primarily upset.

Wesker sat in the chair behind him, rolling it back until they were side by side yet facing opposite directions. William stared ahead, swallowing.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted that you thought I actually went behind your back without looking out for both our interests," Wesker said with a soft chuckle, also keeping his eyes ahead. "Obviously, something happened to cause this disconcertment. Let's hear it."

William tensed and quickly fabricated a cover story. "Spencer. The other morning he dragged me into his study and complained about the slow updates for G. He…made an off comment how you're just using me, nothing else. I don't know…guess it just got to me for some reason."

He could see Al's smirk in his peripheral vision. "I use you and you use me. That is nothing new. Why did it affect you only now?"

Always the clever one, aren't you Al?

"I'm sorry…"

"There is nothing to apologize for."

Yes there is…

He was helping Spencer ameliorate an unstable virus created just for Albert. All so Spencer could own and control him for good. Sure, William was secretly going against Spencer, but the fact remained he was going behind Albert's back with all of it. The truth of his past, the Prototype Virus, Anezka, everything. And yet he was the one that blew up over thinking Al betrayed him?

Hypocrite.

"Do you remember that kid at the Executive Training School? Perry Hooper? Star Trek fan, kinda short, red hair?

"I remember," Albert softly answered. Of course he remembered. There was no forgetting those years of their lives…

"You know, before James took me in, I was staying at the boarding school mostly…harassed constantly for being an orphan. Well, the truth is, Perry was my friend. He's the only person I knew before James…before you. The only one different from all the faceless caretakers that came and went. We grew apart. One day he told me that I wasn't me anymore. That you were corrupting me. He said there was something sinister about you, just like the school. He wanted to get out…to do 'true good' for the world. And you know what happened to him? He went to the torture chamber. James…made me do things to him." William sighed, clenching his knees. "I was thirteen years old vivisecting the first person who ever gave a shit about me - It could've easily been me in his place - as if the shit they did to us wasn't bad enough. I couldn't have made it through any of that without you. I dunno, it just feels like a switch was flipped that day with Perry that I can't undo. I still see his face. I hear his screams. Every day I relive them…but it doesn't bother me anymore."

He shook his head. Knowing Al, he was waiting for the point of his confession. He turned and looked at him hard, not expecting the sting in his eyes. "I just…I don't want anything to divide us. I couldn't bear it."

Albert scowled. "I'm not Perry. Marcus is a pile of excrement-soaked bones beneath the Training Facility. It's absurd to allow something from long ago to incite such paranoia."

William silently nodded, fiddling with his fingers.

Then his partner sighed, keeping his eyes ahead. "I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. You have my word."

Relieved, the corner of his lips twitched in a weak smile. He zoned out, his mind still a busy interstate of thoughts and worries, until a hand patted his shoulder, grounding him once more.

"Go home, Will."

He nodded. Albert turned and left without another word. After everything Albert had done for him over the years, William was resolved. He would do all in his power to restructure the Prototype Virus, enhance it in every way to Albert's blood…and keep Spencer from ever controlling him…

Claire laughed unapologetically, without an ounce of worry or stress, for the first time in what felt like ages. Jill's laugh was softer, hidden behind her hand, while Chris guffawed the loudest. Barry carried on with his story, highly animated, a big, goofy grin on his bearded face.

"I mean I half thought Speyer and Frost were behind it, but no! Ryman all the way! So, all the guys in West Office are losing their minds as this raccoon is running all over the place. Total chaos! Enrico, Brad, and I are just standing out in the hallway drinking coffee, watching the show. Finally, Rita bags the critter! I knew she'd be the one to do it! Got that country girl blood in her. And you know what she does next? She gets it a hamburger before releasing it in the woods. Like who does that?!"

"Oh my god," Jill snickered.

"So, Kevin's plan on getting the RPD a mascot was an utter failure and he's got two weeks parking duty. So much for singing 'Raccoon Around the Christmas Tree,' am I right?"

"I swear I always miss the weird shit," Chris said, wiping his eyes of tears.

"You see your share, partner," Jill told him. "We all do."

This was nice. So nice. Claire glanced around the big, cozy Burton house living room while taking a sip of her hot cocoa. Moira and Polly were setting up a huge dollhouse, freshly unwrapped from Barry and Kathy. Claire was still worn out from playing with them earlier. Those girls had some energy! Kathy sat next to Barry on one sofa just as amused by her husband's story. She always had the warmest, friendliest smile. Her eyes were inviting. Claire swore she knew no stranger.

Claire and Chris had spent their afternoon here after taking a drive to Stone Ville to visit their parents' graves for Christmas. Although it was an emotional trip, Claire felt better getting away and being with Chris. She refused to think about anything or anyone else. Hanging out at the Burtons filled her with much needed joy, much needed peace.

After a delicious Christmas feast, they opened gifts. The Burtons went first, gifting fishing gear to Chris, hiking supplies to Jill, and a scrapbooking set to Claire. Chris received a punching bag and guitar toolkit from Claire and a custom Samurai Edge from Jill. When it came time for Chris to give his gifts, he managed to knock it out of the ballpark with his two favorite ladies. First up was Jill, who he surprised with expensive tickets to a symphony cover of Nadia Boulanger in May; and for Claire he had bought a custom red leather jacket with the motto "Made in Heaven" on the back, just like his. She loved it!

Before long, Barry slipped into one of his usual crazy/hilarious stories: Namely, the ill-conceived raccoon mascot incident.

A strange feeling came over her suddenly. Being here, filled with peace and security, surrounded by family and friends, made Claire realize the life she had before Albert Wesker was gone. Forever. Her brother and friends were blissfully oblivious to the world she now knew, the one Albert continued to pull her deeper into. Was he saving her as he claimed? The blinders were definitely peeling away, but she couldn't help but feel envious of what she left behind.

Deep down, she knew what Wesker was orchestrating. He saved her just to pull her under, deep, so deep, drowning her, so the only oxygen she could get would be from him.

"Just you wait. I'm calling it. Forest is gonna try something to one up that," Barry laughed.

"Wesker will fucking murder him. There'll be a straight up crime scene in the STARS Office."

They laughed. Laughed. Claire frowned. They joked about their Captain murdering someone and they had no fucking clue. They didn't know him like she did.

She needed to tell them. It wasn't right.

But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Claire closed her eyes. It was to protect them. That's what she told herself. It had nothing to do with her being in love with Albert.

"Claire-Bear! Looooook!"

The younger Redfield was shaken out of her thoughts by an impatient Moira staring up at her with big hazel eyes. The six-year-old tugged on her arm, pointing to the dollhouse. Little Polly eagerly waved her over with the biggest grin a five-year-old could muster.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Claire giggled as she let Moira pull her along.

Claire hoped Sherry was having a good Christmas and enjoyed the gifts she got her. She needed to be over here with her, playing dollhouse with Moira and Polly…at least that is what she secretly thought.

She played dollhouse with the Burton girls some more, just while Chris and Jill helped Barry and Kathy clean up dinner. Soon it would be time to leave, as Jill and Barry both had a night shift at the RPD. Chris and Claire would drive around and look at the Christmas lights like they did every year, before returning home for the night.

The later the better, she thought. She needed as much time as she could get from thinking about him. She needed to breathe before Wesker pulled her under once more.

Claire stood in the middle of the living room. What started as an inner checklist that her brain marked and organized turned into a reliving of a morning that scarred her more than she cared to admit. College to-dos, check. Clean the house, check. Eat lunch, no. Call Traci, also no.

As she finished tidying up the living room, she came to the spot where blood would've been on the floor. The hardwood shone clean, with only a little glitter from Christmas decorations. She recalled Sergei's questioning, his cold, calculating eyes. She recalled Roth's curious gaze, as though she was a new creature to behold. Worst of all, she recalled Bennett's vicious, lecherous glare, his threats of taking her back to where he was from to do God knows what to her.

The younger Redfield squeezed her hand into a tight fist, the same hand that slammed into his face the night before. Fuck that asshole.

Claire wondered what Wesker did with him. Part of her deep within was mad she didn't get to see it in person. Again, she swelled with some kind of toxic admiration of what her captor/lover did for her, something that should have made her sick, made her angry. Predominantly, it should've terrified her, but she was no longer afraid of Albert. And she knew, in the darkest crevices of her heart and mind, that would be a terrible mistake.

The door unlocking and opening snapped her to attention. Chris! He was home from work, and she had yet to start dinner. She quickly darted for the kitchen before he could appear. She took a deep breath, swallowing the multitude of emotions that had tied her down in that spot in the living room.

"Hey, Bro!" she greeted as he stomped off snow before entering the house.

"Good evening, Trouble," he greeted with his bright, handsome smile. Claire wondered how Jill hadn't fallen head over heels because of that smile. Maybe she had and was just good at hiding it.

"Trouble? Pssh! I'm an angel!" she automatically bantered, as she had many times before, only this time it died halfway through. Yeah, she'd always been rebellious and a little bit of a troublemaker. Chris had to set her straight a few times, but it had always been typical teenaged trouble. Nothing like she had been involved with the past two weeks. This serious, perilous trouble had not only put her life at risk, but also the lives of everyone around her. People had been murdered. Others were manipulated or simply played like chips in a poker game. She'd had a hand in it, too…

"Hah!" Chris laughed. "Your halo is held up by devil horns, Sis!"

She didn't give her usual reply. She was silent. It took all she had just to stick her tongue out at him. Luckily, Chris was distracted, removing his boots and utility belt, his usual routine after getting home from work. Next, he would go change or take a shower if his day had been especially grueling.

Claire got busy heating up leftovers from yesterday's Christmas dinner. She zoned back out into her thoughts when Chris left for his room, running on autopilot to get plates out and make sure the food was in order. Then she heard it.

Knocking.

Claire froze. She slowly turned around. Then it came again. Knock knock knock. Stronger taps. Had to be a man. Her brain went into overdrive. Was it Wesker? Was it someone here to kill her and her brother for being involved with him?

She shook out of it and marched to the door, ready for anything. For all she knew it could've been just Jill or Barry or Forest.

After opening the door, she was met with quite the surprise. At first, Claire had to take a double look, as she almost didn't recognize him.

It was her uncle.

Caleb Walker. Her mother's older brother. She hadn't seen him since she was eleven years old, fresh after her parents' funerals, where he had proceeded to take everything from them. He looked older now, and had a short beard and mustache, where he'd previously been clean shaven.

She glared at him, hard, keeping the door from opening any further. She would not allow this asshole into their house. "Chris!" she called.

Then, she challenged the interloper. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He had the nerve to smile at her, a hesitant, tired, friendly smile that reeked of "I mean no harm", after all the harm he had done. There was something else within his eyes, skulking and fleeting. Claire tried to deduce what it was. Her uncle was uncomfortable, but somehow she knew it wasn't from her callous greeting. He looked over his shoulder in quick bouts, nervous and restless.

"Just wanted to talk," he simply said, just before Chris yanked open the door further.

"What the hell? Get the fuck outta here, Caleb. We aren't interested," Chris snapped.

"Look, j-just hear me out. Please? It's been years…"

Chris leaned forward. It had been a long time since Claire had seen her brother so angry. He opened his mouth, probably to threaten their uncle again, but Claire put a hand on his chest. She glared straight at Caleb, taking a deep breath.

"Well, let's hear it then. Make it snappy."

Caleb awkwardly bowed his head, again looking around like an invisible demon was hovering over him. "I-I'm moving. To Florida. New opportunity with work…I'm giving it all back. It's yours. I should have never taken it from you." He fumbled for something in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, presenting it to them. "I paid the storage in full for six months. Should give you plenty of time to get everything out."

Claire's heart skyrocketed. What?! She looked up at Chris because she was so shocked. His expression mirrored hers. Her brother cautiously took the keys, as though afraid their uncle was tricking them and would instead chop his hand off.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Chris asked, suspicious. Claire was glad he asked because she was still speechless.

Caleb gave a strange smile: One of fear, of disgust, even regret. He shook his head, fidgeting as though he was on drugs. "I've had many regrets for a while now. Let's just say something motivated me to turn things right. I can't take it all with me. I don't want it anyways…it belongs to you. It always has. I'm sorry. For everything. I do not expect your forgiveness, I just…want you to know I regret it all."

Their uncle stooped and picked up a big duffle bag. He moved slowly, cautiously, as though trying to appear non-threatening. He held it out with that same strange smile.

Claire analyzed him, heart banging in her ears, furious and sad and excited all at once. Her uncle was being somewhat truthful, she decided. He was a little regretful. He was a little sad about all that happened. But mostly…mostly he was scared.

Scared of what?

Did he get into some sort of trouble? Was someone after him?

No, her uncle was a complete asshole, but he always kept his ass sparkly clean.

Chris gave her the keys and he took the duffle bag, still glaring at their uncle like he was a criminal stranger trying to swindle them.

Caleb choked on an ironic chuckle as he took a step back, looking them over. "You both look great, so, so great. Claire, it's uncanny how much you look like Elza. Chris, you…you definitely resemble your father. Take care of yourselves."

"I thought you hated the heat? Why Florida? Thought you had it good here? Cushy, making six figures?" Chris growled.

Caleb laughed. It was weak. It was forced. "They made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Maybe I'll get used to it, yeah? Margaritas on the beach and the like? We'll see, I guess. Susie and the girls will love it for sure."

He left for his car that was parked on the street, but paused, shuffling snow with his boots. He looked over his shoulder one last time. "It wasn't Lloyd's fault. It was an accident. I just…missed my sister and blamed him. I'm sorry."

Their uncle left without another word, driving off into the cold, cloudy evening, probably never to be seen or heard from again. Claire stared where his tail-lights had disappeared, wondering what the hell just happened. Chris nudged her and they went back inside.

"That was…weird," Chris said. Claire could only nod.

It was just so bizarre! It came out of nowhere, yet Claire had a strange feeling it wasn't coincidence. She stared at the keys in her hand while Chris unzipped the duffle bag on the kitchen table.

"Holy shit," he gasped.

Claire raced over to see what it was. At first, she thought she was dreaming when her eyes landed on the bag's contents: Pictures of their parents, of them as a family, their military medals and attire, so many things they've longed for over the years. Claire snatched up the one picture she had wanted most, nearly in tears as her memory restored the fading image in her mind.

She had taken a liking to their mother, and Chris their father. They looked so happy on that red motorcycle, young like Chris and her, dressed in military garb. As a young child, she once thought they looked like superheroes. Now they looked different. They looked like people, young and content and full of life, ready to take the world head on. They looked better than ever before.

Claire wiped her eyes and noticed Chris admiring their parents' medals. He rubbed a thumb over a photograph depicting their father with a young Chris on his shoulders and their mother holding an infant Claire.

"I'm not sure if I buy his story, but it doesn't matter. Whatever lit a fire under his ass, I'm glad. Best Christmas ever," Chris said.

Staring at the photo in her hands, agreeing, it finally hit her. She recalled telling Sherry about their parents and how their uncle took everything from them after the accident. She'd spoken of this very same picture she now held, and how she had longed for it for years. Sherry promised she wouldn't tell anyone, and Claire knew she could trust her.

She squeezed the frame hard, ice cold realization shooting through her veins as the connection was made. Caleb's behavior, his words - he was terrified of something. And it just so happened that Wesker had walked in on her and Sherry that time…

…Albert did this.

Claire held her breath.

He did this for me…

A/N: I apologize immensely for how long it's taken me to get this out. This chapter was difficult to write and I don't know exactly why! I have had so much stress and craziness lately though, so maybe that's it. Anyway, I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but here's hoping you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think :) I appreciate all of you keeping up with this story and being so patient with me, THANK YOU, MUCH LOVE! :D

Only ONE chapter and the Epilogue is left! AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh! Nearly done! But don't worry, the sequel will be right behind, and I cannot wait to share it with you! It will have all that Nightfall's had...AND MORE! :D

The next chapter shouldn't take nearly as long, as I have quite a bit outlined in it (ready to see what happens to Bennett? MWAHAHAHAHA).

Stay safe out there everyone! :)