First of all, can I just say...WOW! You guys are so amazing! I am blown away by the interest in this story. I was so afraid to of writing something other than Supernatural, but I see that my fear was unfounded :) The follows and favorites and the reviews...thank you so much! I did not expect this at all and I am so flattered and grateful to all of you. Just, wow. I was so happy that I decided I had to get another chapter written and posted for you before the crazy time begins next week at work. This chapter is shorter, but I really wanted to get something out before the weekend.

To those asking about whether I plan to write anymore Supernatural stories, especially in the Three Brothers verse...yes I do. I have just been at a complete loss for quite some time, but I will not abandon my Winchesters!

So, with that, I will let you get on with the story.

Chapter 2

d'Artagnan stumbled into the street after bursting through the door that led to Athos' rooms. The tears he had held at bay flowed freely now and pain speared his heart, the ache so excruciating he wondered if it would ever go away. He steadied himself against the side of the building, his knees threatening to buckle. He heaved a great huff and pushed away from the building, refusing to let himself collapse. He would be damned if he let his former friends find him and see such weakness. They already hated him, he would not allow them to ridicule him as well. He hurried down the darkened street as quickly as he could, the young Gascon eager to put as much distance between him and the Inseparables as possible. His thoughts went to the past months and he wondered how things had turned so bad so quickly. Earlier this day he had considered himself as one of the Inseparables and now here he was running away from them, crying like a baby and wondering where it all went wrong.

After what seemed like hours, d'Artagnan finally stopped. He propped himself against the side of a building and bent over, trying to catch his breath. Finally, once he was able to breathe without gasping, he straightened and looked around. He didn't recognize this part of Paris and wondered at how distracted he must have been to wander the streets so aimlessly that he had ended up in a place he'd never seen before. The street was empty at this late hour, which d'Artgnan was thankful for. He took a few moments to think about what he would do. He had nowhere to go. The garrison was no longer his home and there was no place for him with Constance. He had no money to secure a room at even the lowliest inn. He sighed as he realized he was well and truly alone. He didn't even have his cloak to wrap around himself to shield his body from the chill of the night. He shook away those thoughts and let loose a humorless chuckle. He was bone weary and exhausted, his body suddenly begging for rest, but where would he go?

d'Artagnan straightened himself and looked around. All of the buildings were dark at this late hour, the windows all shuttered tight against the cool night air. He spotted an alleyway just down from him and sighed. Maybe he could find himself an alcove or such to provide some protection from the elements. He trudged to the alleyway and stepped into the shadows. He had to squint against the darkness, but was able to find an entrance alcove to a boarded up doorway, meaning nobody would bother him if he rested there for a bit. He sunk down to the ground and pulled his knees up, his body leaning against the door. He wrapped his arms around himself to try to provide some warmth against the chill and dropped his head against the door and closed his eyes. His thoughts immediately went to his friends and pain filled his heart once more. He fell into a fitful sleep, completely unaware of the person who watched him from the shadows…the same person who had followed him from the time he left his friends behind.

M

"I believe I have made a terrible mistake," he added as he dropped his head in shame.

Aramis stood from where he'd been knelt down and brushed his hand through his hair. "Why did you keep the fact that you had a wife from us?" he asked, his dark eyes staring coolly at the elder musketeer.

Athos looked up and shrugged his shoulders. "I never told you because I thought she was dead. I wanted to forget that time in my life," he answered in his slow drawl. "Why does it matter?" he added, the slur in his voice returning now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Porthos, who had been pacing by the door, debating whether to take off after d'Artagnan or stay with his brothers, stopped and turned indignant eyes upon Athos. "Why does it matter? We just lost our brother because of the wife we never knew you 'ad and you dare to ask why does it matter?!" he growled.

"He never should have aligned himself with her. She is a very dangerous woman who can only bring darkness to him," Athos softly said as he slowly shook his head.

"He did not know who she was, Athos! He did not know who you were!" Porthos seethed. "You cast him out, possibly right into her clutches and yet you sit there, drinking your wine like nothing has happened!"

"Do not speak to me in that way, Porthos!" Athos roared as he jumped to his feet.

Aramis stepped forward, in between the two men, anger flashing in his eyes. "Stop it! The both of you! This is not helping!" he snapped.

"He accused d'Artagnan of spying on us!" Porthos cried. "He accused him of killing his own father!"

"And you stood there and said nothing while I did so!" Athos shouted. "If you were so concerned with my words, why did you say nothing?!" Athos sank back onto his chair, his blue eyes staring up at his friends as if to say, why did you not stop me?

"You are right…we should have spoken up. We should have never allowed one ounce of doubt to cloud our judgement, but we did and now we must do everything in our power to rectify what we have done," Aramis said. The medic moved to where Athos sat and knelt before him. "Please, Athos, tell me that you do not believe your accusations. Please tell me…tell us…that we are going to fix this," he pleaded.

Athos looked at his brother with such sorrow that Aramis nearly gasped. "I knew the second I looked into his eyes that I was wrong, but I could not stop myself. The heat of the moment…the wine…"

"Do not blame the wine!" Porthos hissed. "You function just fine even when you can barely stand! Admit that you were enraged by seeing d'Artagnan with her…that you were jealous!"

Athos was on his feet again and across the room with speed neither of his friends expected. He had Porthos' jacket in his hands and had the larger man shoved up against the wall before either man could react. "You think I am jealous!? I hate that woman…she took everything from me and now she has taken d'Artagnan as well! I am not jealous of her, I am fearful for d'Artagnan!" he bellowed, his face red with rage.

Porthos took hold of Athos' wrists and shoved him away. "If you are so fearful for him, why did you accuse him of such 'orrible things? Why not tell him how dangerous she is? Why act like the jealous husband instead of the worried brother?"

Athos shook his head and turned away. "I do not know. I only saw what she had done to me and I could not see beyond that. I know what she is capable of. If she is here, it is to ruin me, and what better way than to use someone so close to me."

"That does not make sense, Athos," Aramis said. "When d'Artagnan first met her, he had yet to meet you. How could she know that he was on his way to kill you to avenge his father? There is no way that our young Gascon could have been employed beforehand to help her destroy you. That would mean that he intended for his father to die."

"I know, Aramis. I was not thinking clearly then and I do not know what to think now. The one thing I do know is that whatever her intentions are with d'Artagnan, they are not good," Athos said in reply.

"Do you think the boy is in danger?" Porthos asked, dread filling his heart.

Athos looked at Porthos, then at Aramis and sighed. "If she is using him to get to me and she discovers that he knows who she really is, I believe that he could be in very grave danger," he answered.

Porthos stepped toward the door, his hand already on the knob when he spoke. "Then we need to find d'Artagnan before she does," he said as he opened the door and slipped into the hall, the other two musketeers following close on his heels.

"What if we find him and he does not want anything to do with us?" Aramis asked as they descended the stairs.

"We will cross that bridge when we get there, but right now we need to find him before Anne does. I have a very bad feeling," Athos answered solemnly.

M

The figure crouched down before the sleeping young man, cold eyes watching, a slight smile on her blood red lips as he mumbled softly in his sleep. She could tell that he was dreaming and that his dreams held only pain for him. Her smile deepened as she reached out with soft, cool fingers and lightly stroked his reddened cheek.

"Oh, young d'Artagnan, so filled with pain and sorrow. What have your brothers done to you?" she whispered. "Do not worry, the cardinal will take very good care of you. Better than your brothers ever could."

TBC

So, that is it for now. I will try to get the next chapter done before too much time has passed. Thank you all once again for your kind words! They mean the world to me.

Cindy