Chapter 66: Ben Tennyson VS. the World

De la Fuente: Spanish last name meaning "of the fountain."

…Hi, I'm back- OH MY GOD PUT AWAY THOSE PITCHFORKS!

But in all seriousness, I really am sorry I've been away for so long. I had no intention of disappearing; it just happened that way. Not only was college and my part-time job incredibly time-consuming and stressful, but my physical and mental health deteriorated to the point where I had no strength to write. And I'm pretty anxious in general, and it just becomes a truly horrible mess to come out of. Not to mention I had a summer job that had crazy hours that left me with intense exhaustion. I wouldn't have taken it if I didn't need the money, though. College is expensive. Another reason is the fact that I had writer's block; I am writing through season 3, after all.

I want to say that I'm back to updating, but that would partially be a lie. While I do intend to update more frequently, life has a tendency of destroying that promise. And in the toss up between real life and fanfiction, I have to choose real life no matter how much I don't want. That's just the way it goes, guys.

Before we can get right to the chapter, I have two announcements, one in which I'll say here:

I know that Omniverse is a broken base among the fans, and I completely understand why. But ever since the third season came out there has been a story in my head and it refuses to die down. I am going to write an Omniverse story that is completely separate from this story. That means new OCs, new aliens, new weapons, new everything. Now, I'm not going to be working on it any time soon; I'm going to be continuing my other projects, since they come first. Still, I wanted to let you know that I'm not leaving the fandom after this story is over.

I do not, under any circumstances, expect you to read my next story. This is about me trying to write a decent story within Omniverse and to attempt at writing a completely different OC from what I'm used to. Knowing my writing style, it will be much, much darker and grittier than the series itself. It will push the T rating to the nth degree. I will write it, and no one can stop me. I only ask that if you do decide to read my story and can't stand Omniverse, don't force yourself to watch the episodes. I know some of you hate it, and I can respect that. So please respect me and let me write this story. That's all I ask.

As for my final announcement, well, I'll save that for the end.

Now, on with the chapter!

Whatever Gwen was laying on was soft and warm and smelled like sunshine. Her brain was exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Unfortunately her body seemed to be too wired to allow such a simple luxury.

She reluctantly stirred from the covers of the overstuffed bed and sat up. She looked groggily at her surroundings: a hexagonal room with tan painted bricks, a blue floor with fluffy white clouds painted on it, a black ceiling with tiny lights dotting it so it appeared as if the constellations had been trapped inside the room. There were thirteen beds inside, splayed out in a circle, with bedside dressers and reading lamps.

Movement in the corner of her eye, Gwen turned her head and thought up the cranky tirade she would say to the person who disturbed her wondrous nap. It was a woman she didn't recognize. She was fairly tall, wearing stylish jeans and a black turtleneck sweater that wrapped around her upper body like a second skin. She had sharp, angular features which somehow fit the twenties bob cut her black hair was in. She had olive skin and when she smiled through burgundy lips her bright sharp teeth shown.

"Morning pie face," the woman trilled, holding up a clipboard and pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She had a simple gold pair of earrings on, two circles that stayed in the earlobes. "How are you feeling at the wonderful hour of…" she looked at the clock besides Gwen's bed, "two in the morning?"

Gwen stared at the lady with as much hate as she could muster. "'M fine," she slurred, her voice thick from sleep.

"I doubt that," the lady said, sounding serious. "You just had a nasty shock. You and all your friends are in for some intensive therapy for the next few weeks. Isaac's orders," she added quickly.

Gwen continued to stare, but her eyes were out of focus. What was this woman talking about? What nasty scare? She had to help Ben with Vilgax-

-Gun shots in the air, Ben standing there drenched in his own blood, his strangled scream-

She started, a scream tearing out of her throat. Her limbs splayed out as she tried to get out of bed, but the lady suddenly had her arms wrapped around her in a vice-like grip. Gwen cried out again when she felt a sharp pin prick in her arm, and then her body slackened. The lady quickly tucked her into bed, removing the band that held her hair up so that it splayed out in a halo of red.

"Don't worry Red, this stuff won't knock you out right away," the lady told her, holding up an empty syringe. "You'll feel mellow for a minute or two. I'd hate for you to nod off while we're talking."

"What are you…?" Gwen slurred, her voice trailing off involuntarily.

"Azmuth's here."

Her eyes widened.

"Oh, don't worry doll, he's just here to check up on Ben. Despite how he acts I think he was actually pretty worried." The lady leaned over as if what she was saying was confidential. "I think he's worried about all of you. You all just had a bad shock, after all."

Gwen turned her head to the side. For the first time she noticed that she wasn't alone. A few of the beds were occupied; Sam was sleeping in one to the left of her, rolled on her side with an arm tucked under her pillow, breathing deeply. Gwen turned her head to other side and saw Evan, his hair loose around his pillow, his mouth partially open and snoring lightly. She thought she could hear Kevin in the room as well.

"Where's…"

"Ben and Carter are in the healing pods," the lady said grimly. "Ben's doing great-he should be out very soon- but kitty cat's not doing so well. She used up a lot of energy summoning those dragons. Add in the shock of almost seeing Ben die and having to surgically remove the bullets despite the fact that she has little experience with surgical procedures, and her brain's turned to soup. It'll take some time for her to recover."

"But Vilgax…"

The lady smiled softly. "He really shouldn't be up and fighting so soon after a session in the healing pods, but Ben will be strong enough to face him. And just in case, I imagine Cordelia has a toy for him to try beforehand." She giggled quietly.

Gwen arched an eyebrow. "A toy?"

She waved her hand flippantly. "Given the circumstances it's just going to be an energy tonic or something. And it's nothing a Slayer can't handle. But right now you need to go back to sleep." She put a hand over Gwen's forehead. Already the redhead could feel her eyelids drooping.

"Who are you?" she managed to say as the world went dark. The last thing she saw was the lady smile, revealing an unusually sharp canine tooth. And the last thing she heard was:

"I'm Pearl de la Fuente. I'm a vampire."

Azmuth was known as a lot of things: a tough boss, the creator of the Omnitrix, the smartest being in three-arguably five- galaxies. He was far too busy to deal with the idiot wielding his greatest creation, especially after he tried to hack it. Hack the Omnitrix, of all things!

And yet, Azmuth couldn't help but feel a brutal pang of sympathy in his heart. Ben was an idiot, there was no doubt about that. And he was human, meaning his life would end in mere decades, unlike the Galvan. And yet despite all that, despite how illogical it was, Azmuth had always thought Ben as untouchable. He had survived attacks from Vilgax at ten years old-practically infantile- saved the Earth countless times, and had now saved an entire universe. He had had help every time, not even the braggart could deny that, but there was no denying the fact that Ben always came out on top. With bruises and cuts and maybe even a broken bone or two, but he was always triumphant in the end.

Except now.

Another pang of sympathy shot through him, this one sharper than the last. He stared at the boy in front of him, his shirt and jacket gone, most likely destroyed. His torso was wrapped in white, his skin a sickly pale color never seen on him before. He was breathing deeply, the drugs administered to him before the healing process keeping him in the realm of unconsciousness.

Azmuth didn't know what to call Ben at the moment, which was odd because he had an extensive vocabulary and could use it on anyone if he so desired. He normally called him a child, because he had found him wearing the Omnitrix as a child and by human and Galvan standards he was one. Add in his behavior back then and, well, that was that.

Now, though, Azmuth felt he couldn't call him that. That same stubborn boy that barged into Zenon all those years ago had recently stopped an intergalactic genocide, using nothing but his wits and a ragtag team of Plumbers' children. And while Ben himself still acted arrogant and rather dense, there was no denying that what he accomplished was nothing short of a miracle. If there was a time to call him a man, that was then.

Except now, while he was resting on the bed, his upper body wrapped in bandages, he had never looked so utterly vulnerable. He hadn't even looked like that back as a child. He wasn't the hero of the universe or the wielder of the Omnitrix. He was a teenaged boy, a son, a cousin, a best friend, who had nearly died in such unfortunate circumstances.

It took Azmuth an embarrassingly long time to realize that.

The door slid open, and Cordelia walked in-or perhaps slithered in was the proper term. She always had that serpentine grace to her that unnerved Azmuth to no end. She was dressed in her usual doctor attire, but she looked tired, and the bandages around her neck weren't helping matters.

She quickly checked Ben's breathing and pulse, took a look at the chart, and gave a sigh. "Well, he should be fine. We just have to take off the bandages and give him a tonic to get him through the morning."

"You are referring to the conqueror's challenge, correct?" Azmuth stated as a question.

"Unfortunately," she griped, gritting her teeth. "And we're losing time for a counterattack in case Ben fails."

"Considering his current state, that's a serious possibility," the genius mused, turning around on the stool he was on to face the Immortal. Despite how unnerving he found her, it wouldn't do to not face Cordelia and look her in the eye while talking. If there was one thing Azmuth learned over the years, Cordelia "Bloody" Valentine did not and would not show any ounce of respect to anyone who refused to meet her steely gaze.

"It's surprising to see you here," the lady in question suddenly piped up. Azmuth raised an eyebrow. "Considering how busy the greatest mind in five galaxies is, it wouldn't be odd for you to stay away while Ben was recuperating."

"Ben is the wielder of the Omnitrix, and for a short period of time he was fatally injured," Azmuth said gravely. "He is the only being in this universe that I trust to use my creation for good. If he were to fall, then the Omnitrix must be retrieved before some other unsavory character steals it."

"...Or you could just admit that you were worried about Ben," Cordelia said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Would it honestly kill you to show a little affection?"

"I could ask the same of you."

She scoffed. "I give affection when it's needed."

"I may not be a parent, but I doubt only giving pats on the head to your grandchildren very occasionally truly counts as affection."

"If I give them too many hugs and kisses, they'll grow weak. The universe is cruel and unforgiving, Azmuth. They have to grow up tough to face whatever's thrown at them."

"...I suppose you have a point," Azmuth conceded, turning back to face Ben. A moment passed, and then he said, "Are you certain that he will be well enough to fight?"

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "He should be, after I give him a healing tonic. It's not a perfect solution, given his condition, but it'll get him through most of the day before he crashes from exhaustion."

"Will he be waking up soon?"

She was about to answer, when Ben began to stir. His fingers twitched somewhat and his brow furrowed. A low groan escaped his lips.

"That answer your question?" Cordelia quickly scooped up the Galvan and deposited him onto the desk, much to his indignation. "Trust me, you don't want to be near him when he's fully awake."

They both stared as the boy slowly, very slowly, awakened. He was shaking slightly, perspiration beading down his temples. He was murmuring something, his hands clutching the bed sheets with an iron grip. His eyelids fluttered rapidly before finally snapping open.

Wide, terrified green eyes stared at the white ceiling, before he let out a desperate gasp for breath. He jerked violently, and Cordelia swooped in, pinning him down. He struggled against her iron grip, kicking his bare feet at whatever nightmare monster was after him.

"Settle down!" she said sharply, and Ben turned to her, blinking stupidly. When he was finally calm, Cordelia gently pushed him back onto the bed. She brushed some hair out of his face with a kindness that was almost motherly. He stared up at her, confused.

"Carter?" he said, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "What's going on?"

"It's Cordelia, Ben," the doctor told him. "You've had a bad shock. Don't try to remember it now," she added hastily as he opened his mouth. "Trust me, you're in no condition to recall it."

"But what about-?"

"Carter's fine," she said smoothly, meeting his inquisitive gaze. Cordelia had always been an incredible liar. Had she not been so incredibly old, Azmuth would have pegged it as a sociopathic trait.

...Then again, he had seen the healing facilities she had stored underneath her house. She may not have been lying after all.

Whatever it was, it was obviously the right thing for Ben to hear. His body relaxed, melding into the mold of the bed, and the sheer amount of relief on his face was unmistakable. Azmuth raised an eyebrow. He had never met Carter before-heard about her through Cordelia and Isaac and had seen a few pictures of her over the years-but he had no idea about what kind of person she was like. From the way Ben was acting though, he obviously cared for her.

There was a smirk tugging at his face that he tried desperately to beat down. He couldn't help it though, not with the unmistakable signs of young love. It was only a matter of time before Ben was hit, and he had been hit hard. Though given Carter's family, perhaps it was a bit misguided…

"What about Gwen, and Kevin, and-!" Ben started coughing, a horrible sound that seemed to rattle in his chest before escaping his mouth. He had brought a hand to cover his mouth once it started, and when it stopped he dropped it. Azmuth gave an involuntary wince; bright red blood was sitting on his bottom lip, and there was a red stain on the palm of his hand.

"Fucking hell," Cordelia growled, reaching into her lab coat pockets. After searching through them she got out a small vial full of bright blue liquid. She popped the top off and said, "Drink this." He did so, nearly choking on the flavor. Azmuth wrinkled his nose; he could smell the foul, pungent odor of the concoction from a few feet away.

The medicine seemed to help, because Ben quickly settled back down onto the bed, little bits of color returning to his face. He turned to the side, and his eyes widened. "Azmuth?"

"Hello, Ben Tennyson," the Galvan said, his usual stern demeanor cropping back up. There was a bit of softness in it though, something that was not lost on anyone in the room.

Ben averted his gaze, one of his hands instinctively reaching for the other. "Sorry 'bout before."

Azmuth's eyes flickered to the Omnitrix, the same one that had been nearly hacked only a few hours ago. It seemed ages since he had warned the boy. Still, those few words revealed the guilt and shame Ben had been feeling ever since. Azmuth took another peek at the bandages.

He sighed inwardly. He was far too old for this.

"I accept your apology," said the Galvan. He was really much too soft on the boy, but considering the current situation, it may not have been such a bad idea. "I also understand why you did it. Still, I would have thought the same wielder of the Omnitrix who cured the High Breed and stopped an intergalactic genocide would have more confidence in himself."

"I had help," Ben bleated out. Ah, so the braggart admitted it himself. Azmuth was pleased that he was right about that.

He mused a bit before saying, "If you come up with a plan for the conqueror's challenge, I believe you could still have your friends help."

Cordelia, who had been apathetically watching the exchange, cut in. "It won't matter if he can barely stand."

"That is true," Azmuth conceded. "I believe you said you had something to help with that?"

"I do, but I won't give it to him now," Cordelia told them. "The elixir only works for twelve hours, and that's if he doesn't change forms. I have to make sure he takes it at just the right time, or he'll crash while fighting Vilgax."

Cordelia turned to Ben and took in his helpless appearance. "Ben, I need you to listen very carefully. I am going to give you a restorative that will not only stop the bleeding and numb the pain, but will give you enough energy so you'll feel almost normal. But, there is a price; once the medicine has worked its way through your system, you will begin to bleed heavily, and it will feel like you've been shot again. It is imperative that you return here before that happens. Do you understand?"

Ben licked his dry, chapped lips and whispered, "Yes."

"I won't give it to you now; we have to time this right," Cordelia added. "In the meantime Pearl will keep an eye on you." She turned to the door.

Right on cue, a pretty lady with bobbed black hair and a face from the silent film era waltzed into the room. She smiled through burgundy lips, showing off sharp canine teeth. "Hello, Benji. How are you this dreadful morning?"

"Bad."

"I figured," Pearl said, nodding. She turned to Cordelia. "I can take it from here."

Cordelia turned to Azmuth. "I'm guessing you're not sticking around."

"Galvan Prime needs me," Azmuth stated. Everyone understood the undercurrent. He turned to Ben. "I wish you good luck, Ben Tennyson. You will not let us down." And with that, he teleported.

Pearl gave a low whistle. "That's high praise, coming from him."

"I know," Ben said, smiling weakly.

The young woman clapped her hands together. "Right, so how's about we get you dressed?"

Ben looked at her confused, before slowly propping himself up by his elbows. Wincing in pain, he saw that all this time he had been only in his white boxers.

Cordelia left the room on Ben's humiliated groan.

Carter groaned. Her arms stretched out and contorted unnaturally as she fought for consciousness. Her eyelids were heavy, too heavy, and something bright was searing through, making her eyes water. She blinked, her sight hazy and unfocused.

She could smell something in the air, something reminiscent of herbal water and cough drops. It was soothing and familiar, yet pungent enough to sharpen Carter's gaze. She looked at the curtains around her bed and focused on the bright sliver of light cutting through the heavy cloth. With a heavy hand she withdrew them, shutting her eyes against the blazing light.

Carter sat up painfully and rubbed at her eyes. She detected even more of the herbal cough drop smell; a few more sniffs and she realized that it was coming from her. She must have spent an enormous amount of time in the healing pods. That should have fixed her up, so why did she feel something heavy on her chest?

Carter slowly unbuttoned her shirt-she was back to wearing her threadbare gravestone pajamas- and revealed the white bandages encircling her torso. Quite of bit of the tape was around her shoulders and arms. The smell of herbs was stronger now.

As quickly as she could, which wasn't very quick at all, she buttoned her shirt up again. She attempted to move out of her bed, but her legs weren't working. She huffed, frustrated, and tried again.

Nothing. Carter's legs wouldn't move.

Her legs wouldn't move.

Panic clouding her mind, she tore off the blankets, sending ripples of pain up her arms. She stared her legs, covered in black cotton, and tried to move them again. Nothing.

Her throat was beginning to close off, pinpricks behind her eyes, she opened her mouth to scream but there was nothing, not even a whisper-

Carter, its okay. The matronly voice, the sound that made Carter annoyed and frustrated and ultimately happy resonated through her mind. Nothing is wrong with your legs. You've just had an accident. Try to move your toes first.

Swallowing dryly, Carter calmed down long enough to follow the instructions. Her toes were moving, slowly, but they were moving. She wanted to cry out in relief.

Aquaria's voice rang out once again. Now try shifting your legs, slowly now. You've got it.

Pinpricks of pain erupted from her legs, like they had fallen asleep for too long and didn't want to wake up. This time tears did fall down Carter's cheeks, but shift her legs she did. It was all she could do at this point.

Settling herself down on the pillows, Carter wiped the tears off her face. What happened to me?

I told you, you had an accident. You're in no state to hear it, so don't ask. Carter mentally cursed. I heard that!

She had to stifle a snort. What can you tell me?

According to Cordelia and Isaac, you were recently gravely injured. You almost didn't make it; there was so much fluid in your lungs…

What sweet, sweet irony that would have been. Carter Valentine, vessel of the water goddess, manipulator of all forms liquid, almost drowned. It would have been a poetic way to die, something Shakespeare would have appreciated.

Let's stop that, Aquaria said sharply. Things are bad enough as it is. We don't need you going over your possible demise.

Doesn't matter, considering Vilgax will probably kill us all in less than twenty-four hours.

Cordelia has a plan, which I will tell you about later. You should be resting. All you need to know is that Ben and the others are fine. They are fine, she added a bit more insistently, which was smart of her, since Carter didn't believe it.

Unwilling to fall back asleep, Carter peeked over at her bedside table and saw the battered notebook on top. Her eyes were still a bit unfocused, but some rereading of her rock opera couldn't hurt. She slowly reached over and took it, her fingers meeting old, soft paper. Propping herself up a bit, she settled comfortably against her pillows and skimmed through some pages.

It only took her a few minutes to give up. She stared up at the wood atop her bed, connected to the drapes surrounding her. She let out a frustrated sigh.

Her rock opera… was so juvenile.

Granted, she was still a juvenile, but she wanted to be a singer. She wanted to sing about mature, responsible topics that would make people think. Her opera with the scientific experiment finding love in an ordinary girl reeked of high school daydreams and the false representation of romance as seen on television.

Carter had seen so much, had killed so many people- she had helped orchestrate the end of a war, for crying out loud. She may have desired some normalcy in her life, but the drivel she had written before was not who she was. She was a Valentine, her hands seeped in blood and her body covered in invisible scars.

Besides, the music industry had enough songs about this dead horse trope. She couldn't blame the singers, not really- they were puppets to big business, and if they wanted a living, they had to do as they were told. And the people who went against that were people to admire, not matter how they did it. Sure, Carter still had problems with the music industry and with some singers- Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj still tremendously unnerved her- but they were trying to make it big in a sexist music industry. Carter had just been perpetuating the problem at this point.

Carter closed the tattered notebook and summoned as much ice as she could into her hands. It was painful work, the power sending jolts of agony throughout her body. It wasn't supposed to happen, that was how abused her body was. But this had to be done.

Her hands glowing blue, she forced the pages to become cold and soggy. And then she froze it, the paper becoming hard and brittle. Silently screaming, Carter crushed the notebook until it shattered, years of hard work now pieces on her bed.

Carter shook off the remains as best she could and groped the bed side table for paper and a pencil. She had new songs to write.

Sam hated being a kid. Kids were small and stupid, snot dripping out of their noses and limited intelligence bearing the most inane of words from out of their mouths. They were incapable of doing much by themselves, and ultimately, there was so little that they could do in general.

But what they could do, they did with utmost cruelty.

Sam's hair was a dull mud brown, her eyes lacking their usual luster. She was wearing jeans and her older brother's favorite red sweater, the one he almost always wore. It was old and soft and enveloped her in warm security.

It helped her ignore the rocks being thrown at her.

A particularly sharp rock grazed her cheek. Blood dripped down her face, the red color matching the stains on her jeans, where other cuts were. Sam huddled into a little ball against the wall, her face hidden in her arms. She could hear the children jeering, laughing every time a rock made her body shudder.

"Freak!"

"Whore!"

"Psycho!"

"What's wrong with your family?"

"How many people did your grandma kill?"

"DuBaers are all psychos! Even your brothers!"

"I feel so bad for your little brother, having a little slut for a sister."

"I'm so glad the older one's dead. One less freak to worry about."

Sam could hear them laughing, laughing, she hated their laughter, hated how her pain amused them. Todd hadn't been crazy; he had been a fantastic brother, loving, protective. He had read stories to her and Todd every night, made sure they ate their vegetables, helped them with their homework. He wasn't just a brother, he was a father. He was too young to die, it was unfair!

And these monsters were laughing about it.

They were throwing stones at her, at a little girl cowering against the wall. They wanted her dead, and they were laughing about it.

They wanted to kill her AND THEY WERE LAUGHING ABOUT IT.

"What are you going to do about it?" a gravelly voice asked. Sam peeked out of her arms and didn't see the children, or the stones, or the school wall she had been hugging. She was in a dark place, someplace she didn't recognize.

Something bright shined at the corner of her eye. Sam turned her head to see a woman standing before her, the bottom of her red dress blackened with scorch marks. Her toga was slit up to her thighs, revealing the knives strapped there. Her arms were covered in battle scars. Her hair was writhing around her body like a raging fire, and her eyes were lit red, orange, and yellow, just like a bonfire.

"Kirche," Sam breathed.

"In the flesh," the goddess answered, her voice old and smoky. "Hypothetically speaking, anyway. I'm really just a voice in your head, projecting myself into your daydreams so we can meet face to face."

"In other words, I'm your vessel."

Kirche nodded. "You poor child." She knelt down so she could look Sam in the eyes and put a hand on head. "I'm so, so sorry about all this. Because of me and your grandmother we've given your family a terrible reputation. You are faultless, and yet you bear the brunt of the blame."

The little girl shrugged helplessly. "It wouldn't have mattered. They would have picked on me anyway."

"But not like this." Kirche waved a hand over the cuts and blood, her hard face twisting with disgust. "Those children are the real psychopaths, and they will never see the truth. You are now the scapegoat, the one everyone will blame when war comes and brings death and destruction with it. You have been forced into an impossible position, and for that I will eternally be regretful."

Sam shrugged again, her eyes lifeless. "What else is new?"

"Power."

An impossibly small light sparked in her eyes. "Power?"

Kirche nodded solemnly. "More power than you could possibly imagine." She brought her other hand up. A ball of fire licked her cupped fingers. "It is hard to control, and it will never be your friend. It will consume everything if you let it get out of control, and it will be nearly impossible to resist the temptation. But you will train, and you will learn to make it submit to you and you will force it to become an ally."

-Her eyes were slowly regaining their coppery sheen, her hair crackled to life-

Sam hesitantly reached out towards the fire. "I want it."

"You want this power?" Kirche held the ball teasingly out of reach. "How much of it?"

"All of it." There was so much hunger in her voice, it was unnatural for a child. Her gaze held such dangerous desire that it was unnerving, but she was coming back to life, her eyes copper brown with green flecks and her red hair speckled with orange and yellow.

"Why do you want this power?" Kirche asked, her hand closer to little fingers.

"To conquer my enemies."

"Why? You will only prove to them that you are a monster."

Sam gave her such a hate-filled gaze that the war goddess flinched. "They're the monsters," she snarled. "They keep hurting me and call me crazy. I don't care if I prove them right; I want them dead. They made me a monster."

Kirche stared at her before a nasty grin spread upon her face. "Oh, you know it so well," she crowed. "The indignation, the hatred, the irrepressible desire to destroy and conquer. Well then, take it!"She thrust the ball of fire at Sam. "Take all of it! Burn them! Let them see what they created!"

Little hands grasped the orb, and heat spread throughout her body. It gave her the feeling of warmth and security, just like Todd always did. But it wasn't her older brother giving her strength, it was Kirche, sweet, disturbed Kirche, her mental state ravaged by endless war and carnage. And Sam was soon to join her.

Sam could hear another stone fly at her. She caught it before it could hit her, and she suddenly stood up. The other kids started, before their nasty grins came back full force.

"Oh, what now, you're gonna fight back?" the ring leader taunted, sauntering up to her. He sneered when Sam didn't talk. "Weak, just like the rest of your pussy family," he went on, his face right next to hers. "Bet I could piss on your older brother's grave and you wouldn't say a thing."

Sam slapped a hand over his face and grinned as he screamed. Smoke curling out from under her hand, she tightened her grip as he tried to jerk away, rooting him in place. His muffled screaming grew high pitched as the heat intensified. A red aura pulsed around her, a force field protecting her, healing her cuts.

Sam gave a hearty laugh as his head exploded.

Sizzling pieces of brain erupted from his cranium, hitting the boys and girls standing in horrified silence. The smell of burning flesh, the loud thump of the fallen body, and the sharp heat of the splattered gray matter forced the children in acting. They screamed and tried to run, but fire was suddenly blocking their path, creating a ring around them. The ring was getting smaller, smaller, sending the children back towards Sam.

They were crying, their fun game turning disastrous, they wanted to out, they were choking, openly sobbing-

"You're a monster!" One of them pointed an accusing finger at her. "You're a fucking monster!"

Sam's grin stretched unnaturally across her face, showing off too much pointed teeth. Her pupils were sharpened to knife slashes, and tears streamed down her face. Her voice was no longer her own, becoming gravelly and ancient.

"YOU MADE ME A MONSTER," she screamed. "NOW BURN!"

Sam jerked awake, hyperventilating. She tore off her bed sheets and violently trashed, rolling over onto the ground in her effort to get away. Her shoulders were shaking, bile rising in her throat, her need for air rising with every passing second.

"Sam?" a tentative voice called out. She snapped her head up to see Gwen standing over her, her red hair out of its ponytail. She looked scared and worried, and she crouched down to Sam's level so they could see eye to eye. With the light hitting her just right, a halo seemed to shine around Gwen's head. It was obvious why Evan considered her angelic.

Sam threw herself in her arms, breaking down into sobs. Gwen quickly put her arms around her shaking form, murmuring, "It's okay, it's over now, everything's going to be just fine," over and over as Sam cried and cried, ever so slowly regaining control over herself.

Her memories were skewed, she knew that. Carter and Evan had been with her when the children threw stones, every single time. They received the same bloody wounds she did. They were there when she made some kid's head explode. They watched with glee as Sam burned alive their other tormentors. Carter had been the one to heal all their cuts while Evan quickly buried the bodies, creating holes in the pavement and smoothing the ground over.

It had been after school when the burning occurred; no teachers had been around to hear the commotion. Not that they cared. They always let the children get away with their games, especially when it came to Sam. They just didn't care.

It made Sam so impossibly happy to see them all punished for never finding the bodies.

Her powers were such a relief back then, but they quickly turned sour. The damage had been done and was still taking place. The Pride was full of monsters, all of them created from torment and hatred. And it would never end, not for any of them. And no one could help them, no human therapist, not their undying grandparents, no one.

But Sam dried her tears and gave Gwen a watery smile. Gwen softly returned it. She was innocent- all three of them were innocent. They were already deep into their world, they didn't need more darkness in their lives.

So Sam pretended everything was okay. It always turned out okay if she pretended. So what if the blood and carnage were destroying the minds of the Slayers' pride and joy? So what if they were monsters? It didn't matter.

It just didn't matter.

"So what happens now?" Kevin asked the crowd of friends. Everyone was up now, standing in a circle inside the constellation room. Pearl was walking around, changing bedsheets. Her presence was a bit of an anomaly, according to Sam and Evan.

"Pearl?" Evan had exclaimed the minute he laid eyes on her. "How-when did you-?"

"Why are you here?" Sam articulated better. "You were supposed to be off the grid for ten years!"

Pearl just gave them a secretive smile and said, "I had some help. Besides, I just couldn't wait to see my three favorite kids." She ruffled their hair affectionately, making them beam up at their old babysitter.

After that all good cheer ceased, and the two of them joined Kevin and Gwen in the huddle. Two of their number were missing. They knew that they would be all right- Pearl had said so quite confidently- but it still felt wrong, not having them here.

Cordelia then chose to walk in, her throat still swathed in bandages. Her braid was over her shoulder, swinging like a rope as she moved. Her hands were in her lab coat's pockets, and it almost seemed like she was smiling.

"Please tell me Ben's fine," Gwen said, a haunted, hollow look in her eyes.

"You got something that can fix him, right?" Kevin asked hopefully. "Like, a fixer upper?"

"A fixer upper," Cordelia mused. "You know, in the five thousand years I've been alive, I sort of wish I thought of that." She smirked. "Oh wait; I did."

Someone outside the room attempted to kick the door down, except they didn't. They could hear the sounds of muffled crashing and a cry of pain. A moment later the door opened normally, and Ben Tennyson walked into the room, limping slightly.

"I really need to work on my entrances," he moaned.

A beat of silence, and then everyone was upon him, whooping and hollering. Gwen had tears in her eyes; Evan had him wrapped in a bear hug; Sam gave him a kiss on the cheek; Kevin ruffled his hair affectionately.

It took a while, but they settled down, the joy vibrating through the air. "I'm guessing you're in condition to fight," Sam stated, eyeing his chest.

Ben shrugged his shoulders. "For the most part. Except for the part where I might not have twelve hours."

Evan looked confused. "But the restoratives are supposed to give you a nine to twelve hour boost no matter who or what you're fighting. That's how they're designed."

"Normally yes," Cordelia told him. "But those rules only apply to humans and Slayers. When it comes to aliens like Anodites and any type of shapeshifter, the rules change exponentially."

"How so?" Gwen asked curiously.

"You burn energy differently," she answered. "Anodites take energy from the world around them, but they still use their own. Shapeshifters can change into any form, and that naturally burns a lot of energy. I'm not sure how Osmosians would be affected by this, though," she admitted. She turned to Kevin. "Perhaps we can test it out some other time."

"I'd rather not play with your toys," Kevin said tentatively, shifting his weight.

Cordelia shrugged and became serious once more. "In Ben's case, he may be using the Omnitrix as a power source, but changing forms does take a toll on him. I honestly can't say how long he has before the elixir wears off. That's why you have to come back here after the conqueror's challenge," she told Ben sternly.

He nodded. "Sure thing. Anything else?"

"You wouldn't by any chance have a To'kustar in your selection of aliens?"

"No, I don't."

"Isn't that the alien you used to beat Vilgax last time?" Kevin wondered. "How are you going to beat him now?"

"Stall him until Cordelia's plan happens." He turned to the Immortal hopefully.

"I don't have a plan."

"What," Sam said flatly.

"You always have a plan!" Evan protested.

Not this time." She turned to Ben. "It's a conqueror's challenge. You have to face Vilgax alone. If anyone helps you, you automatically forfeit the match."

"And the entire Earth is doomed, I know," Ben groaned.

Cordelia's hard gaze softened somewhat. "Oh come on, don't give up on yourself so quickly. You're clever, you'll think of something. Phineas must have taught you something, given you a few ideas."

There it was, a tiny blue spark in his eyes. It was growing brighter, briefly overtaking the normal warm green of his eyes. And then it was gone, replaced itself by a familiar arrogance.

"Not exactly trained, but he's given me an idea."

At dawn

To the untrained eye, everything was normal in Bellwood's forest preserve. Sure, there may have been a giant crater and an alien device sticking out of it, but otherwise everything was normal…except for the invisible force field and the helicopters flying around it. And the news vans and cameras parked right outside the invisible circle.

There was a flash of white light, and a black clad alien appeared inside the preserve. He was a small, strange looking thing, but he had a voluminous voice, enhanced by alien technology. "People of Earth," he announced. "Today's contest is being broadcast simultaneously on all information channels. Be forewarned; the conqueror's challenge is a courtesy." The alien gestured to the enormous fleet just above him. "Vilgax's fleet is currently in orbit around this planet. Should your champion fail to show, Vilgax will declare victory and obliterate the Earth, as is his legal right."

"And if Vilgax chickens out, I win, right?" Jetray asked as he swooped in in front of Vilgax's lackey. He had to ask: "Will you have to work for me, after? Because… I really hate mowing the lawn."

The black clad alien clenched his fist. "After the battle, I will personally remove the Omnitrix and present it to Vilgax. Speaking of whom…" He looked up at the mother ship and disappeared in a flash of purple light. Jetray looked up to see a giant flaming ball headed right at him.

MOVE, BITCH, GET OUT THE WAY! Ben inwardly screamed to himself as the blast overtook him. The ground cracked and erupted from the crash site, and fire spread throughout the forest preserve, creating an inferno.

Jetray, who had miraculously survived, shook off his disorientation. He looked up to see Vilgax himself looming at him, looking at home wrapped in the flames. His shadow seemed to stretch over everything, and for a second Ben was ten years old again, scared and desperate.

Jetray slowly reached a hand to his chest.

"Ben 10, I've come to kill you and conquer your world!" Vilgax roared, looking every bit as terrifying as he was five years prior. And then, in an act that chilled Ben to his bones, he smiled. "Is now a bad time?"

For a second, Ben wanted to cry, but he didn't know if Jetray was capable of that. He was so utterly done with everything. He had seen people who he thought invincible nearly die; he had nearly died himself a few hours ago! His grandfather was in the hospital, his friends were exhausted and traumatized, and he hadn't been able to see his girlfriend or his parents prior to the fight. And now Vilgax wanted him dead again.

If Ben hadn't felt so scared, he would have been incredibly pissed off.

How about you channel that fear into rage? In the back of his mind, he could hear the god's comforting voice. He had never attempted to speak to him as an alien before; the situation must have been dire. But if there was ever a time Ben needed to hear that warm, familiar voice, it was now.

Put your hand over the symbol, Ben. His voice was soft and convincing. Let me handle things for once.

I'm supposed to fight him, Ben thought back numbly. If I don't, he'll obliterate the Earth.

Ventus paused, and then his voice became lighter. Ben could have sworn he was smiling back there. Then how about we fight him together?

"Are you ready to die, Ben?" Vilgax glowered at him menacingly.

"Can we skip the threats and get to the fight already?" Jetray snapped back. "It's been a long day, and there's a Sumo Slammers marathon and I forgot to set the alarm." He stood up and smiled.

Vilgax snarled and drew the sword that had been strapped to his back. He swung it down at Jetray with one hand, sending flames careening into the sky. It should have killed him, or perhaps injured him slightly. Or at least Jetray should have escaped the flames.

But it wasn't Jetray anymore.

Vilgax couldn't see who it was- no one could- but it wasn't any recognizable alien. The thing that escaped the searing flames was wearing sneakers and jeans, and had something blue flapping behind him. His upper torso was cast in shadows, his appearance ultimately discernable.

"I'll take that as a yes." His voice was childish and mirthful, but it sounded too deep and mature to be in such a young body. Two voices seemed to be blended together, the effect being almost musical to the ears.

Balls of lightning struck the ground near Vilgax's feet, sending smoke and flames into the air. Except Vilgax hadn't been hurt; he was inside a yellow sphere. "You're energy beams are no match for the shield of Sigo!" the tyrant crowed.

Vilgax then sheathed his sword and ran towards his opponent, tackling him in midair. The shadows were no longer cast over him; as he laid on the ground, the sun shone on his tattered blue coat, its black hem reaching his knees. Long loose sleeves covered his arms, its cuffs black, and the design of autumn leaves were spread throughout the fabric in a haphazard design. Thick blond hair fell over his neck, choppy and windblown.

The boy looked up, sky blue eyes hidden by long hair. The black V-neck of his coat hinted at the bandages wrapped around his chest. He coughed once, and then stared wide eyed as Vilgax sent a punch his way.

Except his fist never connected. Instead of hitting malleable skin, it struck against dense air. The scent of ozone was in the air, and Venn smiled over the fist.

"Silly Vilgax. Smart people know when to give up."

And the giant alien was sent back, the weight of the dense air equivalent to being hit by a truck. He skidded once, twice, three times over the ground before his body flopped and created a crater. The blonde boy stood over him, smoke billowing out from his feet.

He mimed punching Vilgax's face with both fists, and dense air connected together. Vilgax was being pulverized into the dirt by the same force of multiple trucks hitting him over and over again, and he was powerless to stop it.

The air child then stopped his onslaught, and then started to skip backwards. He let out a mirthful giggle, his strange voice unnerving. Venn mimed the 'come at me bro' gesture and said, "Come on now, show me what you got."

Vilgax immediately brought laser vision to the field, forcing the air child to flip, tumble, and dodge in circular motions to avoid being hit. It was going well until a laser hit his coat, and then his arm, his chest, and nearly everywhere else. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

Two voices were screaming in the boy's head, one old and experienced, one young and cunning. They were both worried and frightened; the body they were using was merely a fragile puppet, and not something they could throw around unnecessarily. They had to get up, they had to stand up and work together and fight-

A hand roughly grabbed Venn and hoisted him up. Vilgax was squeezing his neck with a golden gauntlet. He scratched at the hand, desperate for air, and then electricity hit his body.

Venn smiled.

With glowing blue eyes he absorbed the power through one hand, sending it through his body. It rapidly traveled through his arm, swerving around his heart- too close, TOO CLOSE- before he let out the electricity through the other hand. It struck Vilgax right in the face, sending him careening back with a scream of pain.

The air child fell to the ground, walking in a circular motion to get his footing back. And then he noticed the tremors flowing through his arm. He clutched at it desperately, but the shaking wouldn't stop.

"We need to end this now." Venn furrowed his brow. "But how? Vilgax has the power of ten heroes on his side." He raised an eyebrow. "And we have more than ten aliens… you sure you can't access Way Big?" He lightly shook his head. 'No, that's still impossible." His eyes widened as he saw Vilgax running at him with his flame sword. "Think fast!"

Venn dodged as fire was sent at him again. He flipped through the air like an acrobat before landing in a crouch. "We need to freeze him. No, we need Carter for that. Then can we set him on fire? Fire needs oxygen to burn. Isn't he immune to flames though?" He furrowed his brow as Vilgax loomed over him once again.

"Ben!" They could hear Gwen shriek behind him, along with other familiar voices.

"We're ending this now," Venn said solemnly, and his eyes glowed blue.

Thunder clouds suddenly darkened the sky, except it was supposed to be a sunny day. They were a metallic gray and brought the scent of rain, and lightning flashed through them. But there was still the sense of wrongness about them, something supernatural.

And then, it was understood: the storm was brewing inside the force field.

Venn stood up, his long hair covering his glowing eyes. His grin was stretched out maniacally, needle sharp fangs showing through his lips. Vilgax took one look at the sky and glared at him.

Venn shook his head. "I told you; smart people know when to give up." He closed his eyes, and help up his hands like a composer.

And with a final wave, lightning was brought down from the heavens.

For a second, everything was white. There was no sound, no smell, and no sight, nothing other than pure, white oblivion. Then slowly, ever so slowly, sound returned in a rushing wave, along with the smell of burnt grass and ozone and rain. And the last sight was Vilgax in an enormous smoking crater, utterly defeated.

Venn was on his hands and knees, vomiting up small quantities of dark blood. His coat receded into familiar green, his black t-shirt covering up his bandages. His hair receded into its normal length and returned to its natural brown color. His teeth ached as they returned to human size, and his glowing blue eyes petered out until they were green again.

Ben Tennyson shakily got up on his feet and walked over to the crater. Wiping his mouth free of blood and exuding an aura of arrogance, he smirked and said, "Say the word."

Refusing to look at his smug face, Vilgax muttered, "I yield."

Afterwards

"Know this Ben Tennyson; I will have my vengeance."

"Sure you will. Get out of here."

Once Vilgax, his henchman, and his fleet were gone, Ben turned to Cordelia. "So I'm guessing everyone knows my secret now?"

She shook her head. "No."

"But we were on TV all over the world."

"I used Plumber tech to block the transmission about halfway through," Cordelia explained. "Everyone saw the aliens, but nobody saw Ben Tennyson. Or your fusion. Impressive work, by the way," she added approvingly. "Fusions are exhausting, especially the first time you do it."

"Yeah, what was that exactly?" Kevin asked.

"I'm guessing that's something you'll explain once we're in a more secure location," Gwen stated. The older woman rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.

"Well, all's well that ends well," Evan said jovially.

"You're all going to therapy," Cordelia deadpanned.

"I HATE YOU!"

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked Ben, ignoring Evan for the umpteenth time in her life. Gwen and Kevin looked over him worriedly.

Ben would have thought it over, but the tremors had spread through the rest of his body, and he could still taste blood in his mouth. In all honesty, it was getting hard to stand.

So, without any further ado, Ben calmly said, "Take me to a hospital." And then he fell flat on his face.

About Venn's funny way of talking… yeah, that's Ben and Ventus arguing. They're sharing a body and one voice, so it gets weird. It was fun to write though. And I may or may not have stolen the idea of fusing from Steven Universe. Shh!

Also, when I say that no one can help the Pride, I do mean no one can help the Pride. Think about it: they've been trained since practically infancy to murder and destroy, even if it means saving people in the long run. They've been like this for a very long time. And they've been told that murder is wrong from a very young age.

Can you imagine what that's like? Having your very way of life be revealed as something atrocious? Something that isn't condoned by modern society? That can really fuck a kid up.

And guys, let's face it: for the Pride, violence and murder has always been an option. Hate a criminal? Kill him. Want to stop an alien invasion? Slaughter the entire army. Want to get back at your childhood bullies? Set them on fire and hide the bodies six feet under. They know it's wrong, but they're so used to it that they can't stop. They have nothing left.

And no one understands. Ben and Gwen and Kevin can't possibly understand their situation, not really. And I seriously doubt a therapist would be able to help them. Cordelia, Isaac, Lucille, Raphael, Phineas, they have an inkling- they've seen millennia of carnage, after all- but they're thousands of years old. They can eventually get over it. The Pride can't.

The Pride are trained to be sociopaths, and they're fighting those tendencies. But they can't help but fall back on them. That's all they've known; they know it's slowly eating away at them like a disease, and they know there is no cure.

To diverge from that somber note, I'll say this: this chapter was a bitch to write, but it was rewarding. And it's super long too! Hopefully that sort of makes up for my disappearance.

And for my final announcement:

By the order of the Fanfiction dot net Democracy, of the Celestialsapien Court, and of the High Council of Gallifrey, I hereby allow anyone who has read my story from beginning to end to write stories with my OCs in it.

Before, if you'd had asked me, I would have said no because I didn't feel comfortable having other people write my characters when I hadn't fully fleshed them out yet. But now I feel comfortable with my characters and where they're at and I am ready to set them free (so to speak).

So go on! Stretch those writing muscles and use my OCs! Just please mention where you got them from so no one accuses you of plagiarism, okay? And don't expect me to read them, because I don't have time for that.

So, thoughts anyone?