Well, I've decided to go a little further with this fanfic. I have about three chapters planned before I get stuck for ideas, fingers crossed I have some more by then .x.x. Anyways, the rating of this fanfic is now going to go waay up as we get into it, violence, language and all the stuff people saw with the original Sands because let's face it, otherwise it wouldn't be the original Sands.

I had serious problems with this chapter and still do, but I'm being a fool and posting it anways, if you like it I would love to hear so. As shameful as I am, the more reviews I get, the quicker I write the next chapter.

FINAL NOTE:(as if you didn't know) Sands does not belong to me, dammit, but everyone else here does.

Chapter 1

It had been a terrible accident. A lorry carrying gas had collided with a Land Rover, two other cars had been pulled into the disaster before they could break quick enough. The event had even reached world news, which had been an amazement to Aimee who had lived with her dad in the peaceful state of Alabama her entire life. Before she knew it she had been bombarded with press, wanting to know how she felt about the accident. Their lack of sympathy had made her so enraged, that she had struck out at them at one point. That act had awarded her a night in jail.

Still she didn't care, she mourned for her step-mom as she should have done. And waited every day to hear that her dad had woken up. A whole month had passed, and there had been no change. He was stable, but still in a coma. Every day she would wake up thinking. Is today the day that he dies? Or will he wake up?

She always kept her cell on, just in case she got the joyous, or just as easily, devastating phone call from the hospital. It tore her up inside to think that her dad could die at any minute, if there was a power cut, a change in his condition… She kept the thoughts from her mind, she always had other problems. The major one was her step-mom's will.

Every week she had received the same phone call from the solicitors, every week the question was the same.

Where is your cousin?

And every time the answer was the same, the last she had ever heard was that he was in Mexico for some reason. He never contacted her, she never expected him too. They hadn't really gotten on since day one. She remembered the first time she laid her eyes on the surly youth, and knew there and then, that she didn't like this boy. Needless to say, he had lived up to her expectations, and still did. The self-centred jerk wouldn't even travel from his job in Mexico to spend a couple of days in New York, sorting out his aunt's dying wishes.

He always had been selfish, uncaring and lonely. All alone and he bloody deserved it. All he needed was to be taught the value of life, as far as Aimee was concerned he was still an insolent little boy.

But it seemed that the day he learnt would never come, nor would his arrival to the solicitor's office. Mr. Johnson had finally managed to contact him, and he was an hour and a half late, just to uphold his useless reputation.

Sighing once more in frustration, her ginger head swung to her step-brother. He wasn't looking at her, instead his dark eyes stared at the panelled wall with a dull boredom. Lazily, Aimee transferred her gaze to the acting executor before her.

Mr. Johnson sat behind his typical solicitors desk, dressed in his typical black solicitors suit and his light brown hair neatly combed. He caught Aimee's gaze, and gave her a warm smile.

"I'm sure he'll be here any minute now." He attempted to calm her angry mind.

Yeah, right. I'm sure Christmas will be here sooner than that ineffectual idiot. Aimee thought bitterly. The thought mirrored the expression on her face, Mr. Johnson decided not to say any more.

The pent up fury boiled within her when she looked at the grandfather clock in the far corner. If she had to wait another minute for that-

The door to the small office clacked open, the blinds shattering against the window. The company looked up hopefully, another solicitor in a black suit was stood at the door. His gaze was fixed on Mr. Johnson.

For a moment Aimee feared the worst, that her cousin wasn't in fact going to turn up, that some business had cropped up that was more important than getting this will sorted. It wouldn't have been unlike him.

"Mr. Sands is here." He announced, backing against the door to let another man behind him into the room. Aimee relaxed, but then tensed again at the realization of who was actually stepping through the doorway.

A proud man strode into the room. His black hair was cut around his shoulders, and framed defined cheekbones and a tanned face. And he wore sunglasses. Dark, black sunglasses, so dark that the eyes behind could be a mere rumour.

It was autumn.

You're not in Mexico anymore, idiot. Aimee thought savagely, disregarding the peculiarity of his accessory choice for simple insolence.

The man discarded a deep rich brown jacket onto the coat rack by the door, and strode to the empty chair next to Aimee. He wore a black shirt with the first two buttons undone and a pair of black pants, you would think he was a solicitor out of work, she mused.

He sat down, crossed a leg over the other and sighed in apparent exhaustion. And that was it.

Aimee was furious.

"Are you not going to apologize for how incredibly late you are?" She asked in an incredulous tone, speaking before she let her brain tell her not to.

He looked at her vaguely, as if he didn't even care she was there.

"Aimee, how wonderful to meet you after all these years." He drawled, making no attempt at pleasantries.

"How are you Jeff?" Aimee's step-brother called from behind her, amazingly calm.

Sands cocked his head at the sound of his second least favourite name. His expression was unable to determine with the sunglasses.

"Yes, Shelly, how have you been this last month?" Aimee grinned spitefully, knowing well enough Sands had a bitter dislike of his first name.

He twitched.

"Oh you know, easy come, easy go." He said silkily, as if she hadn't used the name at all.

"Well it obviously wasn't an easy come, because you've only just made it here." Aimee replied bitterly.

Sands gave her a blithe smile and turned to Mr. Johnson.

"I hope you will make this quick? I'm a busy guy." He said simply. Mr. Johnson remembered the phone call he had had with this man, and found that being in his presence was even more intimidating.

"Yes, I will. I understand no one wants to waste any time over this." Mr. Johnson replied, accompanied with the agreements of all three people sat before him.

"Now, in Mr. James Sand's will, he left his summer house in Canada to his wife, Mrs. Erin Sands. There are some slight complications as the will was rather out of date when she passed away, and the three of you are the only ones who are still with us that are mentioned in the will. All that was designated to the deceased, is to be given to Mr. Dominic Sands."

Aimee's step-brother nodded at the sound of his name.

"You receive the majority of your mother's remaining money, and half of her current house. As for her step-daughter, Aimee, she receives $250, 000." Mr. Johnson had taken to reading from the papers in front of him. "Given to Shel- Mr. Sands, $300, 000, and ownership of half of the summer house in Canada."

Sands' expression remained unreadable, though his memories of the summer house flashed in his mind.

"Now where the complications begin." Mr. Johnson said uneasily. "The other half of the summer house goes to Mr. Jacobs, however, should he not recover from his coma, then it will go to Miss. Aimee Jacobs. Due to medical condition there are certain points at which ownership of the half of the summer house will be viable to be in possession of Miss. Jacobs. This circumstance does not yet concern us as Mr. Jacobs is still in a stable condition, but we will frequently be checking up on him and all three of you will need to be contactable should there be any change to the situation "

Aimee swallowed, once again she felt the fear well up in her stomach. Hot tears threatened to roll down her cheeks.

"Well, that's interesting." Sands broke the silence, he didn't sound in the least bit interested. "But I assume it's still possible to sell my half of the house without having to wait for the old fool to wake up."

"You know you can't sell the house without my dad's consent." Aimee said shakily, coming towards the end of her tether with this man.

"I'm not asking to sell the summer house, I'm asking to sell my half of the summer house. There's a difference, about half of the money's difference in fact." Sands said in a patronizing manner.

"I don't think you should sell anything without his consent."

"Erm, well if we were to look at this in a…" Mr. Johnson cleared his throat nervously, but then stopped talking when he noticed no one was actually taking any notice of him.

Sands sighed irritably.

"As surprising as it may be to you Aimee, the world does not revolve around you, nor your fucking asshole of a father."

The company in the room fell into a stunned silence.

"Don't you dare…" Aimee hissed, getting up from her seat. "Don't you dare say that. You can't even begin to understand how it is for him. My father is fighting for his life in that hospital bed."

"Maybe I should visit him, hmm? Tell him not to bother." Sands smirked bitterly.

Aimee blew.

"You sick, selfish son of a bitch!" She screamed. "You don't even deserve to live! You don't even know what it's like to be an inch from death! I hate you!" Her face was now red from screaming and hot tears streamed down her face.

Sands was struggling to keep a calm expression, but it wasn't working.

Slowly, surely, he uncrossed his legs and stood up. He took two steps towards Aimee, now inches away from her. He stood half a head taller than her, intimidating her vicious spirit.

"You-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence when a chirping noise filled the silent office. Aimee recognized the tune as La Cucaracha.

Groaning, Sands delved into a pocket and retrieved a vibrating, chirping flip-phone. He snapped it open irritably and placed it to his ear.

"Yes." He barked, both Dominic and Mr. Johnson looked away discreetly. Aimee kept her glare of fury right on the excuse for a human being in front of her.

"Yes, you do." He snapped. Aimee vaguely wondered who he was talking to. She watched as a frown formed on his face. "Well, I'm a little busy right now, so you're going to have to call me back-"

"You know what, have your stupid phone call, I'm leaving." Aimee said shortly, pushing past Sands, she headed for the door.

Mr. Johnson looked as if he was about to say something, but then decided against it, sat back in his chair and sighed.

"Who is this?" Sands asked irritably, barely noticing that Aimee had fled the room. Dominic looked up at his cousin warily, curious thoughts streaming through his mind. Who is he talking to?

"Joe? Well then, you listen to me Joe, because you've just ruined a very important meeting for me and frankly…" Sands groaned as the person on the other end of the phone cut him off. "That's awful nice for you, Joe. Goodbye." He snapped the flip-phone shut and slid it back into his pocket.

"Sorry about that." He now addressed the remaining company in the room, they all knew it didn't matter what apology he made, Aimee had left the room in a flood of tears. Pausing only a slight moment to calm himself, Sands spoke again. "Well, it was a spiffy time meeting you Mr. Johnson, but I should be leaving now." And with a wry smile, he walked to the still wide open door.

Then Dominic noticed something about the way Sands moved, almost as if he didn't know where he was going. Before he could say or do anything, Mr. Johnson was out of his seat, rushing over to Sands. They started muttering, Mr. Johnson tried to take hold of Sands' arm, but he was promptly thrown off.

That's strange. Dominic frowned, frozen to his seat.

Mr. Johnson then retrieved Sands' coat off the stand and gave it to him. Without a word, Sands took it from him and left the office.

Something's certainly not right.

Erm yeah, you like?

Btw, thankyou quick29 for your encouraging review, I hope you liked this chapter.