"You kiddin' Jimmy?"

"Dead serious Vic," Logan said coldly.

Creed snorted, breaking the edge off of the table and leaving claw marks in the wood. Despite the widening rift between them they still lived in the same house. As such a lot of things got broken, especially after an argument. As they were having more and more of them lately the house was a wreck.

Now that he had told Creed of his choice to marry Kayla he could imagine that he would have to end up saying goodbye to the rest of the furniture.

"So that's it?" asked Creed, "You start screwing some girl and you talk yourself out of what you are?"

"That's enough," snapped Logan.

"No, I know how it is," snarled Creed, "You've never really accepted what you are. You're a goddamn animal. Anything she's told you is just empty-headed shit. Are you some kind of moron?"

Logan gave his brother an even glare.

"I know what I am," Logan said, "And I want to change. I want things to be different. We don't have to be at war anymore. We've found-"

Creed snorted.

"It's never been about havin' to do anything," he said, "It's about wanting it. You know you like it when you're in the middle of it all, blood flyin' thick. So don't lie about it."

Struggling Logan kept his composure.

"Like I said," Logan said, "I know what I am. And I want to stop it. The life we led, what we did, it's over."

"You're not fooling anyone."

He shook his head.

"It's over."

Laughing Creed got to his feet.

"So what now Jimmy?" he asked, "Go skippin' in the pretty little Genoshan flower fields with your slut?"

A low growl started up in Logan's chest.

"Don't you dare say that," he said, "You don't even know her."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Creed gave him a thoughtful look, tilting his head.

"You're right," he said, "Maybe I should change that."

"Vic," Logan said, his voice warning, "Don't-"

Creed pushed past him and went for the door. He grabbed his arm, only to have Creed whirl around and launch himself at him. Logan felt his brother's nails in his stomach before his claws came out. He stabbed Creed in the chest, thinking it would make him loosen the nails lodged into his abdomen. There were no pangs of guilt that went with it; he would heal.

Instead of having the intended effect Creed twisted deeper into his stomach. Logan felt his intestines turn to shreds and he howled, flinging Creed off him. His brother quickly got to his feet and swiped at him again. Logan cut at his cheek, slicing it. It healed nearly as quickly as he caused it. He'd been aiming for his skull; that would have at least put him out of commission for a few hours.

Creed moved and kicked out at him. Logan dodged. The two of them had trained for years under the same people, had hunted together. They knew each other's moves, and there was no such thing as a lucky hit with them. This wouldn't end in a matter of minutes, or even an hour. No matter what happened they would live.

Logan's claws ripped through Creed's arm. The damage healed up quickly again. Creed howled but nothing happened. Any sort of superficial cut would heal. It would have to be deep, possibly shattering something, for it to be successful. He eyed his brother's diaphragm, choosing his target carefully.

Putting all his strength into it he pushed him to him to the ground and dug his claws into him. He grabbed his brother's ribs and began snapping, all the while Creed ripping into his arms. Gritting his teeth from the pain he continued snapping. Blood flew into his face, both his brother's and his own, until his task was finally finished.

He pushed himself off and managed to get to his feet. Creed lay on the floor, his eyes glaring up at him. That had to be enough damage to keep him down for a while.

"It's over!" he snapped.

Logan turned his back on him, pressing his hand against the wall for support. He took several deep breaths. Creed and he had fought before, but never to this extent. He couldn't let him leave though. His thoughts went to Kayla. She was trained herself, but Creed would have made short work of her.

His thoughts were cut short as he was pushed through wall and out into the yard. Logan hit the ground hard, shattering his spine and several other bones. Creed pinned him down, his face a mask of agony and triumph. His hands increased their pressure and the rest of Logan's bones snapped, causing him to yell from the pain.

"It's never over," Creed wheezed, "We're brothers."

Stumbling he got to his feet and headed out. Logan struggled to get up but his bones were still healing. The minutes ticked by until he was well enough to crawl back into the house, sweat pouring from his eyebrows. He had to get someone. Creed only had a few minutes lead, fifteen at most. That would be enough to take Kayla from him. And he wouldn't have it in him to howl her name each night. He'd go insane.

"Emma, you must stop."

Emma looked behind her, an amused smile on her face. It wasn't what she was feeling, but it was easier to be amused than to let anyone know the truth. Azazel was looking at her with concern. She wished she could summon something other than the amusement she felt to meet him with.

He'd been good to her. She'd come into the cells, fourteen and lost. He'd never told Charles that at one point she'd been even worse than she was now. There had been nights when she'd repeated her sister's Blackfoot nickname over to herself again and again, unable to look up because she thought Christian's brains would splatter on her.

Before she'd come to the cells her episodes had been somewhat manageable. Kayla had made her promise to survive and she had tried to honor that. When she could focus on doing things then it wasn't so bad. Alone in her cell being hurt every day the memories had crashed onto her like a tidal wave on a beach.

And he'd been there, helping her when she screamed in the night for her siblings. She had cried at Christian's death, but it had been Kayla who had been her rock in hard times. She had been the one that Emma had turned to time and time again to help her as she struggled. Kayla had been her protector to the end, and it was her name she screamed when they used drills against her diamond skin.

And he had helped her through it. Now he was trying to help again. Him and Clarice. The peppermint pink teleporter was the only friend Emma had. No matter how many times she tried to rebuff the girl Clarice was unfailingly kind to her. She didn't talk down to her either, despite the fact that she was two years older.

She had been the one who'd helped her dye her hair to blonde, the color it had been dyed when she'd run away with her siblings. Her brown reminded her too much of her father. Not even Christian had had brown hair and Kayla's hair had been black. They had dyed Emma's blonde to allay suspicion when they travelled. She had missed it and Clarice had helped her change it back.

In the rare moments of complete control Emma let her know how much she appreciated all of this. Clarice would always smile, her pure green eyes blinking with happiness. She reminded Emma of a butterfly who had just come out of her cocoon, pure and light. She envied her grace, her natural self-assurance. Only on Genosha would she be considered beautiful though. It was a shame.

"Stop what?" she asked, deliberately obtuse.

Azazel gave her a fixed look.

"You know what I mean," he said, "You kill man yesterday. They excuse for now, but can nyet go on."

She tilted her head politely.

"You know what will happen, da?"

"Oh yes," Emma said airily, "They'll put me away to some little corner like they did with Creed. Have they killed him yet?"

"Nyet," Azazel said.

"But they will. They'll have to; they just keep putting it off because they don't want to," Emma said, sitting down at the window seat and looking out the window, "And I'll go like him. Only I'll be treated gently because I'm insane."

She looked back and tilted her head.

"Do I look insane to you Clarice?" asked Emma, "Study me hard, because this is what insanity looks like."

Clarice bit her lip and knelt in front of her. She took Emma's hands and looked up at her, her eyes reflecting worry.

"Emma," she said, "please, listen to us. Azazel's right. You can't go on like this. You know that Magnus and Charles can't allow you to keep doing this. They've excused you this far because-"

"Because they needed me at first," Emma said, "and they didn't know just how mad I was. Or it's gotten worse."

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Yes, I think it's gotten worse," she said, "It's been three years since I was freed. You all thought it would fade. But I think that the damage has been done."

Clarice opened her mouth but Emma continued to talk.

"That was their excuse for not dealing with me at first," Emma continued, her tone still thoughtful, "And then it was because I was young and mad. Those two can be synonymous, but in this case they know I can't help what I'm doing. And I'm quite young. So they're just hoping things will get better."

Emma smiled at Clarice. She was almost finished.

"But if you two are here for some sort of intervention, then you know it's gotten bad," she said, "I know that my free pass won't last much longer. I turned eighteen not that long ago and I'm not in control like I used to be."

She wriggled one of her hands out of Clarice's grasp. She used it to grasp a section of Clarice's pink hair and run it through her fingers.

"Natural," Emma said, "smooth. You have to tell me about your shampoo."

"We are here to talk serious!" snapped Azazel.

His words undid her. She paused, letting Clarice's beautiful hair fall from her grasp. Emma closed her eyes for a minute and she swallowed.

"I can't stop," she said, "I can't. I didn't want to kill him yesterday. I didn't even want to hurt him. I couldn't stop, didn't want to, and it wasn't because I wanted him to be in pain. I just…I don't know…"

She opened her eyes, looking from Clarice to Azazel.

"Thank you for caring," Emma said, tears dripping from her eyes, "But can't you see there's no point? Maybe it's best that way. I can't stop myself. I think I lost that ability when I lost my siblings."

Sniffing she gripped Clarice's hands.

"You two come visit wherever they put me, okay?" asked Emma, her voice pleading, "Don't leave me alone."

Sighing deeply Azazel teleported over. He put a hand on her shoulder and Emma bowed her head in quiet acceptance. Static interrupted the silence of their moment.

"Azazel? You there?"

Irritably Azazel unsnapped the radio from his pocket.

"Da."

"We got a report in from Logan. He's badly hurt, even by his standards," said Magnus, "Apparently Creed's on his way to East Chancery to kill Logan's fiancée and we need a teleporter to get us and another to go down there."

"I will go for Creed, Clarice to you. But who is this?" asked Azazel, "Logan is engaged?"

"It's recent," Magnus said, "It's…you know, the Silverfox girl."

Her hands let go of Clarice's. Emma jerked her head up, her eyes wide.

"What's her first name?" she whispered.

"What was that?" asked Magnus.

"What's her first name?" Emma shrieked.

Azazel and Clarice stared at her. She knew Magnus would be staring too if he could see her. She didn't give a damn.

"Kayla," said Magnus, "but I don't see-"

She grabbed Azazel's arm.

"You have to take me with you," Emma begged, "I need to see."

"Emma…" Azazel said.

"Azazel, Emma is still under suspension," said Magnus, "She's not to go."

She gripped his arm tighter, her eyes pleading.

She's my sister!

His eyes widened as she sent the thought to him and Clarice. Maybe they thought she was insane. She didn't care, just as long as they took her.

"Azazel, you are not allowed to take Emma-"

Magnus' words were cut off as Azazel teleported, taking Emma with him.