Content warning: Description of canon-typical gore.

The blood stank. It smelled like a mixture of iron and vomit, though he was pretty sure the latter came from the guts splattered all over him. Ben tried not to think of the guts and organs and dead tissue. He tried not to think of the bloodcurdling scream his victims made as the Horror tore them to shreds. He tried not to think.

As soon as they arrived home from a mission, after the photo opt where blood-soaked Ben was forced to smile and pretend to be proud, he would always rush off to the bathroom. Even then, one shower was never enough. Ben would use an entire bar of soap and an entire bottle of shampoo and would still reek of blood and guts. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he was never really clean. Sometimes he scrubbed hard enough to draw his own blood. It still wasn't enough.

The blood speed into his soul. Death tainted him.

This time, just as he was about to reach the bathroom door, Five teleported in front of his path.

"Out of the way, Five," Ben said, not wanting to spend another moment covered in blood.

"What are you in such a rush for?" Five asked.

Ben looked down at his bloodstained clothes, then back up at Five. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Not one for bathing in the blood of your enemies?" Five asked with a chuckle.

"Get out of my way." Ben always had to practice restraint, no matter how annoying his siblings got. And as close as Five and Ben were—they were the only two academically inclined out of all the siblings which often bonded them—Five often annoyed him with his smug superiority. Only sweet Vanya could ever seem to tolerate Five for long periods of times.

The monster underneath Ben's skin grew restless as Five refused to move.

"Look, I see how you are in the missions and I think we need to talk it about it," Five said.

"Right now?" Blood dripped off Ben and seeped into the carpet. Mom would clean it up. She wouldn't even complain about cleaning it up, but Ben still felt bad. Unlike Klaus, who he swore made messes on purpose, Ben always felt guilty when he made extra work for Mom.

"Yes, right now. You always hesitate before the kill. We always have to goad you into releasing the Horror."

The creature inside Ben rumbled beneath his shirt at the sound of its name. Ben practiced his breathing exercises. Breath in and out. In and out. Slow and steady breaths.

Five just didn't get it. His powers weren't dangerous like Ben's. All he could do was teleport around a room. It was purely defensive, unlike Ben's, which was nothing but aggressive. Nothing but murderous.

"Sorry that it's a little harder for me to just murder people," Ben said dryly.

"Murder? Murder is unlawful. You're killing criminals. You're saving lives. When you kill a bad guy, you're stopping them from hurting someone else."

"Bad guy?" Ben said. "They were art thieves."

"Are thieves not bad guys now?"

"They hadn't even hurt anyone," Ben said. His gut wretched. Why had he allowed his siblings to talk him into killing those people? It wasn't right. They should have subdued them some other way, let the police take them, not kill them.

"They had hostages!" Five said. "If we didn't stop them, if we didn't kill them, they would have killed the hostages. It was our only option."

"Maybe not," Ben said. "Killing is a lot harder than just making a threat."

"And you'd be willing to chance that?"

"Ever hear of due process? Why do we get to be judge, jury and executioner?"

Five shrugged. "Who's going to stop us? If the law enforcement and judicial system was competent, they wouldn't need us to step in."

It really didn't get to Five, did it? All the murder and mayhem they were involved in and Five just didn't give a damn. What was wrong with him? Had he always been this heartless? Perhaps. Ben's earliest memories of Five revolved around him stealing their siblings' toys, making Klaus and Diego cry. But all kids can be selfish and mean. Most kids grow out of it. The Hargreeves just never stood a chance to mature. Not with their father's training. They were all already fucked up beyond repair.

They were supposed to be a team, but the Hargreeve's training more often than not comprised of the siblings competing with each other. Each of them had been assigned a number based on the value their father had assigned them. As number six, Ben knew how little value he possessed. The only person with a lower rank than him was the powerless Vanya. Five must've been aware of how little value he had, too. No matter what challenge their father put before them, Five would rise to it and conquer it. But he was still number Five. Still less useful to the team than Luthor, Diego, Allison and even careless Klaus—but not Ben.

"You're just as bad as the people we stop," Ben squeaked. Maybe none of them were the superheroes the media touted them out to be. Maybe they were the bad guys. Or would be one day.

"Hey, I'm protecting people!" Five shot back. Maybe he did care. Maybe he still had a sliver of morality. "Let me ask you something," Five continued. "If it was one of us in danger, if it Klaus, Diego, Vanya—someone you loved—would you still hesitate to kill our assailant?"

"Of course not," Ben said. "I would do anything to protect you guys. All of you." It hadn't slipped Ben's attention who was left off that list. Sure, he might not be as close with Luthor and Allison, and in this particular moment Five was driving him nuts, but he still loved them just as much. He'd die before letting something happen to any of them.

"And what if we were just at risk of being in danger?" Five asked. "What if they hadn't hurt us, but they might, and the only way to stop them is unleashing that thing inside you, which you know will kill them? Do you let them die, or do you risk our lives because we might be fine?"

Ben bit his lip. He didn't want to have this conversation anymore. He never wanted to have it in the first place.

"Come on, answer the question."

"Stop!" Ben blinked back tears. He just wanted a damn shower, not a philosophical debate.

"Why? Am I shaking your moral code?"

As a tear dripped down Ben's face, barely washing away any blood along with it, Five's own face twitched. His nose scrunched up and he shifted side to side. When he spoke again, his voice cracked. "I…um…go take your shower, Ben."

Ben wasn't sure what he had done to finally stop Five's self-righteous lecture, but he was just thankful to get away. Without another word, Ben ducked behind his brother and into the bathroom. The relief was short-lived, though. Even two hours in the shower, with skin rubbed raw, he still felt unclean. The blood was not visible to the naked eye, but he knew it was there.

With reddened and chaffed skin, Ben stepped out of the shower. He dressed in clean clothes, left on the counter by Mom while he was still showering. Sweater vest, shorts, blazer, tie and knee-high socks. When Ben looked in the mirror he almost felt like an ordinary schoolboy, not a vicious murderer with a kill list a mile long. The feeling didn't last long. He stepped out into the hallway.

And of course, Five was back. Ben prepared himself to round two. But instead of more vicious words, Five silently shoved something into Ben's hands and teleported away. Ben looked down to find himself holding a plate with a marshmallow and jelly sandwich on top of it. Five was pretty infamous among the family for his peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. He scarfed down at least once a day, usually to Mom's chagrin, who chastised him for their unhealthiness. Ben preferred jelly, though. Who knew Five had been paying attention?

Maybe Five wasn't so much of a narcissistic sociopath as Ben thought.

For a moment, while Ben ate the sandwich in peace, he was able to forget about all the horror he had witnessed today. He could just pretend he was a regular kid with a loving brother that made him awesome cooking concoctions.

And for the moment, that was enough.