Disclaimer: I don't own the movies... unless you mean the DVD's.

Author's Note: The one-before-last chapter. Just one down to go.

12: Chapter Eleven

September 7, 1885
10:00 AM PDT

Emmett Brown blinked, as he felt strange. He'd just slept quite a while – and for some reason, felt like really weird things were going on. He decided just to write it off as being nothing, though.

For some reason, he had dreamed like Marty had shown up, from 1955 – and told him he had gotten shot by Buford Tannen. They then had tried to go back to the future, but Marty's DeLorean was out of gas. He had also met a woman named Clara Clayton, who was really beautiful – and had also liked him. At that point, it had to be a dream – since women never really talked to him, or let alone liked him! At the end, he remembered pushing the DeLorean up to 88 with a steam train, then almost falling off as Clara had come after him, and then the hoverboard saving Clara and him. After that, he could not remember anything. Such a strange dream.

As he looked around, he saw someone was in his bedroom. A female, obviously. That could only mean one thing… "Mrs. McFly?" he yawned. "Is that you?"

"Just relax now," the woman said. "You've been asleep for over an hour and a half, now."

Doc now remembered how, after he'd seen Marty go back to the future, he'd encountered boys looking just like a teenage him saying they were his sons. How odd. "I-I had a weird dream, it was terrible" he said. "Dreamt that… I was on a train… and I was falling off… and there was this beautiful woman named Clara… she was also falling… it was horrible."

The woman giggled, for a reason Doc didn't care. "Well, you're safe and sound now, back in the good old school teacher's cabin."

Doc screamed, as he sat up. "School teacher's cabin? Argh!" He stared at the woman in front of him, and found she matched his dreams. "You're… you're…"

"I'm Clara, Emmett" the woman said. "Clara Clayton, remember? You fainted when your sons, Jules and Verne, came visit from the future." She smiled. "Our sons."

Doc sighed deeply, his eyes opened wide. "Then it's true?" he asked. "We really got visited by our future sons? I can't believe it! I mean, kids… I'm sixty-six years old! I never expected to have kids anymore!"

"If what you tell us in the future is correct," a brown haired teenage boy said, entering the room, "you weren't expecting to be married… fall in love, either." He extended his hand. "Please to meet you, father. Jules Brown, your oldest son."

The inventor stared at the boy in front of him. With short brown hair, the teenager who claimed to be his child looked more like Clara. But the face looked familiar, and even had the slightly insane look on it. In his pants' pockets, Doc noticed a miniature version of 'Twenty-Thousand Miles Under The Sea'. He stared towards his beloved and back. Really, except for the hair, it was like he was looking in a mirror.

His eyes went even wider when he saw a second teenage boy come in. By this one there was no doubt. However the look on his face seemed saner than by the other one, his hair was blonde, starting to go white, and his physical build was exactly like Doc remembered himself being in pictures from himself in the late 1930s. There wasn't doubt – the story was true.

"Great Scott" the inventor whispered. "This is… heavy. I wonder what Marty would say about it." He looked at Clara, then back at the boys. "Where are they from? I mean, when are they from?"

The school teacher stared at the teenagers. "1905" Jules finally said. "As in nineteen-hundred-and-five, yes. We're here because we went to buy a Christmas present for you in 1935 that accidentally caused us to interfere with your younger self and set up a chain reaction of events…" He sighed, obviously having gone through a lot of adventures. "Are you okay with 'it's a long story' for now?"

"I guess that I'm all right with that" Doc nodded. He stepped off the bed. "Great Scott – kids. I never ever honestly expected to have children. I wasn't meant to have children, apparently. I'd lived my entire life as a bachelor up until 65, retirement age, and I never expected to have them, not even after I had been rejuvenated in 2015. Kids were something for younger people who were in the middle of their lives and happy and had wives and husbands…" His voice started to contain a tinge of sadness. "But not for me."

"Well, here we are now" Jules pointed out. "Alive and well – your children." He sighed. "Although we almost could've been Buford Tannen's kids if something would've gone wrong…"

Doc frowned. "What the…" He was silenced by a disgusted look from the boy on the right… Verne, wasn't it? "I guess I don't want to know."

"Good decision, Dad" Jules smiled. "Now, why don't we get out of the mansion, now? We got a car to hide. The DeLorean… yes, father, I said DeLorean… is hidden down at Eastw…Shonash Ravine." He saw Doc frowned at the slip of Eastwood Ravine. "We hid it on the wrong place, because the train that you guys so happily threw in the ravine ended up damaging the time machine." He sighed, and stared at Verne. "Really, why do we keep running into things like this?"

"I wouldn't know, bro" Verne said, shrugging. "I guess fate isn't too kind to us."

"Anyway," Doc said, "let's get going. If I understand you well… we've got a time machine to hide."

oooooooo

Buford Tannen sighed, as he looked at his surroundings. Here he was – Hill Valley Jail. He'd lost everything today, in just a matter of hours. His freedom, his power over Hill Valley, his last chance to kill that Eastwood runt… and even his history book. He growled. Why couldn't those buttheads be more careful in getting that stupid book back? Now they were caught, and in prison, as well. Well, at least here he could beat them up.

The outlaw started to wonder what to do, now. He'd be in this stupid prison for a few years, at least, and didn't expect to get out until 1890. He could try to escape, but then? Nobody would even look at him anymore. After that bug Eastwood beat him, everyone could. He growled in anger, wondering where Eastwood had gone.

The butt-head was probably celebrating his win with the blacksmith, that no-good cheating Brown runt. He hissed in anger. He should've killed them when he had the chance, back at the Festival. If he had been more secure not to be seen by Marshall Strickland – he wasn't at the entrance all the time, after all – or had created a distraction, he could've easily hold some more of the guns, and shot Eastwood and Brown to death.

"Why" he whispered. "Why did this happen to me! It was perfect! I could kill Eastwood! I really could! It was just something I did before breakfast… I wasn't supposed to lose!" He sighed. Oh great, now he was talking to himself. One of the first signs of insanity.

The outlaw looked at the long iron bars that kept him out of the outside world. It would be easy. He'd just grab his knife, and then he could cut the bars. So it had gone every time, so it would go now again. He reached down…

… only to find nothing. Buford frowned, confused, searched all his pockets… and then, he remembered.

Back at the festival, he'd left the weapon at the entrance in order to get in. And at the end, he was so pissed off on Eastwood and about how he'd gotten another line wrong, that he'd left without even thinking about his guns and knife. That meant, right now, that he didn't have a weapon. His men hadn't, either. His guns were taken away from him, his knife still at the festival, most likely being held by the cops… it was a lost case. He would be trapped all his years, this time.

And for what had to be about the first time in his life, Buford 'Mad Dog' Tannen, the murderer of many people in Hill Valley and outside it, burst out in tears, and started to cry.

oooooooo

Alternate Marty looked down, and saw that Doc, Clara and Verne were down below with some kind of self-made crane that Doc had obviously constructed. They were apparently pulling up something. As Marty looked down the sides of the ravine, he saw Jules sitting inside the DeLorean, which was being towed up with the crane. Alternate Marty smiled – this was typical Doc and Jules.

"One, two" Doc counted. "Three!" He then pulled the handle of the crane with all his strength, and with happiness, he saw that Jules got pulled over the side. Everyone cheered. "Way to go Dad!" Jules complimented.

"Thanks Jules!" Doc said. "Is that for what I did now, or for the machine I'd apparently constructed… or will construct, in the early twentieth Century." He whistled. "You know, I'm wondering what I'll all be doing then."

"A lot" Jules commented. "Twenty years is quite a lot of time, you know. You did a lot of things over the times. Marrying Mom, getting us, building the train and travelling all through time…" He smiled. "Well, let's go back, now. We got a lot of things to do in front of us."

"And that's true" Local Marty smirked, as he looked down below. "It really is strange, how we're watching all of this. I wonder if, someday, we could revisit this day – and see more things. We really had just five hours. That is not much time, you know."

"Well, we did see a lot of things happening" Local Sarah said. "It was so exciting to see how Grandpa and Grandma met up again. And how Marty McFly Senior headed back to the future. It's strange how a lot of today's music wouldn't have existed if Grandpa Marty would've stayed in the Old West."

"I guess that Grandpa really inspired the hover-conversion, and Mr. Fusion" Alternate Sarah said. "It's a good thing that Marty Senior really told the inventors of our country about hover-technology, which he'd discovered in Doc's papers, or else the whole idea wouldn't have existed. It is strange to imagine 2046 without flying cars." She flew down to the DeLorean, vanished inside, and then flew out through the other side again. "Speaking of 2046, it's about time to go back. It is 10:59 AM, now."

Alternate Marty winced, as he actually would have to go back to the future. He was about to say something about what all he'd experienced, when he saw the surroundings shimmering, and then fading. As everything went black before his eyes, he realized that he was being pulled through decades back to the year 2046. He really wasn't in 1885 anymore, now.