Chapter 13

This was her house.

She had every right to kick those people out of it, though she'd been extremely polite and loving about it. Mickie and Trish didn't blame her, not with what Claira was pulling. They told her to call if she needed them and Mickie had taken John and Milayna to a hotel. Their flight was leaving in the morning to go back to Massachusetts and Brooklynn had written her a check to pay for the flights. Yes, she had been the leader of their circle, the one everyone gravitated around, but that wasn't Brooklynn's fault. She didn't want to be any kind of leader, it just…happened that way. Right now, she just wanted to be left completely alone and didn't need a bunch of people in their house seeing their problems. It was simple as that.

After he was done dressing down Claira and doublechecking the Binding on her, he headed upstairs to go check in with Brooklynn. He wasn't surprised to find Bastet laying on the bed, cuddled in the blanket she had gotten as a kitty Christmas present. He knocked once, a bottle of wine in hand and stepped in when he got a muffled 'what'. She was a hot mess, he mused, green eyes softening as he took her in. Kneeling by the tub, he offered the wine.

Brooklynn didn't know what to say to him, her heart breaking for so many different reasons. She took the bottle from him, ignoring the glass and took a long pull from it, scrubbing a hand down her face. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she had to pull it together for Mark's sake because Bastet would be gone in a matter of days, according to Mickie. There was no point asking if he was alright because that was a dumb question. Due to what was going on, Brooklynn canceled Lowe's coming to redo the kitchen and postponed it until after Bastet was gone. Mark wanted to bury her in the backyard and Brooklynn had no problem with it, though something told her he'd want to do it privately since he'd been with Bastet long before her.

"Thanks." She whispered, setting the bottle down and rested her cheek against her knees, reaching out to lace her fingers with his on the side of the tub.

"I remember the first girl I had a crush on when I was 17," He said quietly, moving so he was sitting instead. Stretching his legs out as much as he could, Mark leaned back against the wall between tub and toilet, staring at her intently, though he never pulled his hand away. "My Dad hated her and, at the time, she was all I wanted." He snorted, shaking his head. "Course, I rebelled, and we both know what a bastard I am…" That had brought just the barest hint of a twitch to her lips. "Soon enough though, I learned on my own just what a mistake she was." Not that it had excused him for the chaos he had created. "Maybe we just got to let her make her own damn mistakes and quit trying to come down so hard on her, darlin'."

"Let her walk all over us, you mean." Brooklynn wasn't smiling and didn't think any of this was amusing. "So, because your mother let you get away with doing that bullshit, you think I'm just gonna let our daughter do the same thing to me? To us? Think again, it's not happening. She can see that asshole in school, but out of it, it's NOT happening. Just leave me alone." He did not make her feel better. If anything, Mark just pissed her off further about the situation. Standing up from the tub, she grabbed her towel and stepped out, draining the water before heading into the bedroom. "Don't follow me. I need to be alone right now, Mark. Just…spend time with Bastet."

This time, she was sleeping in a separate room and closed the door, going into a spare bedroom of their four-bedroom house. That story of his made her feel even more helpless than she already did. She wouldn't bow down to her daughter or let her go away with what she did. Her phone, laptop, any forms of communication with the outside world was gone and Claira would not get any of it back until she changed her ways.

All he could do was just stare at the wall trying to understand what just happened? His Daddy hadn't let him get away with anything, not that she would know that since she'd jumped the gun on how she thought it played out. Mark had gotten his backside beat with a belt, willow switches, whatever was handy more times than he cared to remember, but all that had done was piss him off further. Growling under his breath, he pushed himself up onto his feet, his eyes closing as a spasm of pain wracked his body.

"Come here, Bassie…" He whispered when he was in the bedroom, bending down to scoop her up, frowning when he felt her heart rate going faster than it should've. "Let's get out of here, yeah? Want to fly one more time?" Mark hated not having his feet on the ground if airplanes were involved, but… for short periods, he had the ability to do it himself.

Bastet's low purr let him know she liked the idea. Of course, she did, she loved stars.

The following day was…grim, to put it mildly. Brooklynn could only watch as Claira left the house and got in Seth Rollins' truck and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The counselor would send CPS after her if she didn't let Claira go to school. Watching her defiant daughter get in the truck made something snap inside of Brooklynn, something she couldn't understand. She'd NEVER felt this amount of anger in her life and felt hatred, raw hatred, for her daughter, her own flesh and blood.

"Don't bother coming back here."

That made Claira stop, her eyes turning to stare at her mother. "What?"

"You heard me, Claira. I'm not repeating myself. If you don't wanna listen and follow my rules, you don't need to live in my house. You can get emancipated and live with whoever the fuck you want. I'm done with you. I love you, but…I'm done with you. You chose that boy over your own family and now you think you can send CPS after me? Go ahead, see how far you get on your own with your little boy there. See if he'll take care of you. Or better yet, let his momma take care of you since you don't give a fuck about your own parents."

Mark was already at work, unable to stay in the house since Bastet died in the very early morning hours. Mickie was wrong, she didn't have a couple of days – it was only hours. After Mark buried her, he went to the shop on no sleep, leaving Brooklynn to deal with Claira.

"Go on, go cry to CPS and send them after me again. I'll simply tell them you're a defiant little bitch, who doesn't care about anyone except yourself." It was the truth, especially these days. "I'll have your stuff packed and waiting on the front porch to grab after school. Don't think about stepping foot in my house." Storming in the house, she slammed the front door before Claira could say a word and turned the television on, silent tears falling down her cheeks.

"Wow… all that over me actually going to school. I knew she needed a fuckin' life outside of the house."

"Your Mom is fucking psychotic. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know…" Claira bit the tip of her thumb, hardly believing her Mom was losing her mind over something like this. She knew for a fact she was not the first and would not be the last girl to lose her head over a boy, but she had already decided Seth was worth it. "I think my Mom needs therapy. There's something wrong with her. She's been losing it since the day I got grounded," Of course, she HAD set the kitchen on fire, but Dad had Bound her magic. She had been really, really good the other night and then Mom's 'family' showed up and decided she didn't need to go to school. "My Dad is going to FREAK." Her dad wouldn't let mom kick her out, no way.

Brooklynn didn't bother telling Mark about kicking Claira out of the house. The boxes of stuff on the front lawn was proof enough someone was leaving. She was in the process of carrying another box of clothes down the stairs and stopped at the sight of a baffled Mark, walking past him to drop the box outside. "There, all cleaned out." She wiped the sweat from her brow and grabbed her bottled water, taking a long swig of it. "Hi, you're home early. Claira's moving out. She's going to stay with Seth's family for a while since she doesn't want to listen and abide by the rules here. I think she's getting emancipated too." If he didn't want to deal with it, she would and finished her water, tossing the empty bottle away. "The whiskey's in the kitchen, you look like you could use a shot of it or three. I'm heading back up to clean."

"Wait, stop!" Mark reached out to grab her arm, acid flashing in his eyes as he stared down at Brooklynn. "You kicked our 16-year-old out?" What. The. Fuck! "Brooklynn, you don't… she's… IT'S A FUCKING BOY!" Why was she having such a meltdown over a fucking boyfriend?! His Familiar, his best friend, his lifelong companion, who was supposed to be with him to the very end had died in his arms during their final flight, and this was what he was coming home too.

"I don't CARE if it's a boy! She doesn't wanna listen to me, she can get the hell out! She's 16, she'll be just fine since she thinks she knows this fucking world and how it works. Sicking that fucking CPS counselor on me was the last straw, Mark! I'm not putting up with her attitude and self-centered bullshit ANYMORE!" Brooklynn had expected a fight, though she hadn't seen the acid flash in his eyes in a LONG time. It reminded her of Him…and she didn't want to have to worry about that since Bastet was gone now. "She needs a fucking dose of reality, to make her realize just how good of a life she has here! You don't want her kicked out, then I'm leaving. I'm not living in the same house as her right now, I'll end up throttling her!" Her eyes were nothing more than hardened gold full of defiance and anger.

"You know where she gets that attitude and self-centered bullshit from? YOU, she fucking gets it from YOU."

Moving away from her, before he throttled HER, Mark headed inside to grab cash out of his dresser drawer. He'd bet Claira was with that boy and his mother. Mark would be damned if someone else was footing the bill for his daughter because her mother had no idea what she was doing anymore!

"FUCK!"

He'd had these stupid spasms all day and it was starting to get old; it'd be his luck with all this stress, grief, and apparently, his family losing their respective minds, he was having a heart attack or something. No, Claira didn't get it from Brooklynn because Brooklynn had never lost her mind over a boy. She'd been too worried about her gift to get close to anyone, not that Mark would understand that. Claira was the spitting image of her father and acted like him, the darker side of him, which scared her. She heard him bellow out and rushed out after him, seeing he had dropped to a knee.

"Mark!" Now he was on his back with her hovered over him and Brooklynn had no idea what to do, cupping his face in her hands. "Breathe, breathe please…" Losing him on top of Bastet and their daughter was something Brooklynn wouldn't be able to handle. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on. Do you need an ambulance?"

He shook his head, knowing whatever this was related to losing his Familiar. He wasn't in danger of dying, he was fairly certain, as Bastet's life had been tied to his, not the other way around. Hellfire though, the connection severing was messing him up.

"Just…"

Mark didn't know what to tell her. He was pissed at her, enough to see red, especially since she was forcing him to basically chose between her and his daughter. Given the way she had been diving down his throat lately, whenever her dander was up, he didn't doubt for a second Brooklynn would leave him, if she felt he wasn't going to play her way.

"Get off, woman… I'm trying to breathe." He shook her hands off his face, his teeth gritting. "It's whatever magic that held me and Bastet together…"

That was the problem with not being married. Either one of them could pack up and leave at any moment. Brooklynn would never leave Mark, she loved him wholeheartedly and wanted him forever, but Claira had made her life miserable lately because of her boyfriend. She would get a hotel or something not too far away if Mark wanted to keep her in the house. There was no way in hell she was living under the same roof as that bitch, not right now. His words made her heart nearly stop as she backed away, seeing the pain slowly diminishing from his eyes. The magic holding him and Bastet together had partially been his darker persona, his vile counterpart. Hopefully, with Bastet dying, that part of him was dying along with her and Brooklynn would never have to worry about him again.

"Let me know if you need anything." Leaving him alone was for the best since he was angry with her for kicking their daughter out. She didn't want to do it, but Claira left her no other choice.

Mark was no mind reader, but if he had been, he'd have laughed. Marriage didn't mean a person couldn't walk out, because it was still just as easy to walk out the door married or not. Brooklynn had been a loner, never had much in the way of friends, so he didn't expect her to get 'it' with kids, or people in general, outside of the circle of friends. They were all just as weird as she was. Him included. Not that he would be trying to explain that anymore, or how teenagers who wanted to be 'normal' tended to act like little assholes, magic or not. He moved so he was laying out on the floor, closing his eyes as he just rest.

Maybe it was just exhaustion creeping in.

When Claira came home, late again after curfew, to find her stuff on the front lawn in boxes, she was NOT happy. Her father was currently sleeping on the living room floor, there was no way Brooklynn could move him and he refused to wake up. She chalked it up to exhaustion and left him be while finishing cleaning the house, doing anything to get her mind off things. Claira was crying, screaming at the top of her lungs about how her mother and father didn't love and care about her anymore or they wouldn't throw their own daughter out of the house.

Brooklynn didn't care, watching as Seth tossed the boxes in the back of his pickup truck. Claira would learn one way or another, just like Brooklynn did, the world wasn't all it was cracked up to be and if she didn't have anyone there to truly love her, she would wind up alone and miserable. The pickup truck drove away as Brooklynn went back inside the house, exhaustion of her own creeping in. A chill was in the air and she sincerely hoped it wasn't another spirit that had mountain climbed during a blizzard.

Whatever lesson her mother was trying to teach her, Claira was definitely learning something from it. Her mother was a selfish, crazy broad, who loved nobody except herself. That's why she was making everyone miserable! Brooklynn was sound asleep when Mark woke up, his eyes opening with an alertness that he probably shouldn't feel. Frowning, Mark pushed himself up and stretched, looking around. The ache was gone but the house was cold and felt foreboding.

After having her kitchen set on fire and then a school counselor, who was attached to CPS, called on her, along with losing Bastet…Brooklynn was at the end of her rope. She had enough of the defiance from Claira, all over a boy. She didn't give Claira back the cell phone, laptop or anything worth value because THEY bought her that stuff. She didn't earn a damn bit of it. If she wanted a cell phone, laptop and television, she would earn it by working. Other 16-year-olds had to work, why shouldn't she? She'd need a job to support herself unless her Daddy went to the rescue and gave her money, which Brooklynn already knew he had. Currently, she was sleeping in Claira's room, having passed out from all the cleaning and crying she'd done, not noticing the dark figure looming over her.

She had tossed Claira out without blinking, for jacked up reasons, instead of handling it like any normal, well-balanced person. Brooklynn truly was a beautiful tragedy and it looked like, after all these years, she was going to finally explode and take everyone around her with her on her expressway to hell. That was kind of amusing actually, he always thought it would be HIM doing that. Shaking his head, he bent down and lifted her from the bed, not surprised at all that she didn't stir and carried her to their bedroom.