(ok so this was GOING to be the ending of the story, back when I wrote it AGES ago before I even made Dean's account and made him a full character. Now that the Dean/Franky story is gonna be a huge bunch of oneshots and not have any definitive ending I'll post this now. :P I also wrote this way before the Summer Novel.)

Here's how it ends, the story of me and Dean. With no goodbyes, no hugs, no promises of seeing each other again. It was abrupt and violent and all my fault.

Last day of school Year 11. Everything was done, my GCSEs all over with. I was on my way home. Not to the pirate ship. After I was adopted I started going less. Jeff&Geoff worried and suddenly I didn't want them to. I… cared about them. So I started to go get shitfaced less, stopped the acts of mayhem. Dean hated it, thought I was abandoning him and changing. We still hung out almost every day and every weekend. But I started to care what happened to me, just a little bit. I stopped subconsciously trying to kill myself. On this day though the plan was to stop at the house to make sure Jeff&Geoff knew I was OK, pick up some of Jeff's celebratory cupcakes and head back out to celebrate in another way with Dean.

I guess the pricks from my school wanted to celebrate too.

Suddenly hands grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms behind my back. I bit my tongue to stop any sort of cries for help. Whatever this was it would only make them laugh and be rougher if I pleaded or made any sort of noise.

A girl from my school came around to face me, jeering down at me. I looked up long enough to recognize who it was and then looked down at the sidewalk. Blank slate. Don't give them anything to work with. Still the girl cackled and said, "Look at her, she fucking knows she deserves this." I tightened my hands into fists and dug my nails into my palms.

Don't panic don't panic. The person behind me forced me to my knees and the girl yanked my chin upwards. "Look at me dyke." I didn't, looking to the side and watching a little old lady walking a shaking fragile dog across the street. She saw us and made a face. She kept walking. Fuck you too.

The cap of a marker popped off and I closed my eyes tightly as felt tip met my face, leaving marks on my forehead and chin. "Open your eyes Frankenstein. You have to see this." My eyes stayed locked shut. With an impatient sigh the girl said, "John," and with a jerk my left arm was yanked upwards painfully. I couldn't stop my eyes flying open and the yelp of agony that escaped. And I was face to face with myself, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, the word FREAK written onto my forehead and a markered beard drawn onto my chin. I looked away quickly, refusing to acknowledge my prickling eyes.

"There, see? Now everyone can see what you really are. Of course it isn't like most people can't." She yanked my chin upwards again and spat in my face, "Your parents could."

I just looked at her dully. My insides were numb. I'd already turned myself off. It was like I was looking at her from under water. I was somewhere else in my head and my body was taking the abuse for me. I'd resurface in a few hours to lick my wounds and go get drunk with Dean.

A wig was forced onto my head- and even turned off I marveled at the absurdity of it, they'd taken the time to get a fucking wig to do this- and my arms were let go of long enough to pin me against a brick wall. Finally I could see that there were five of them, three girls and two boys. Cameras came out of pickets and I looked away. But I kept my eyes open to they wouldn't hit me. My Manikin hid somewhere in my bag for me, safe from all this. He called comfort into my head and made my teeth ease up on the insides of my cheeks.

Then an animalistic roar sounded and impossibly Dean was there, flying into one of the boys with murder in his eyes. It took a few moments but I finally blinked awake. No. No. Dean wasn't meant to see any of this, to know any of this. I'd never told him how bad it was, never ever let him know the humiliation of it all. How was he here? Like my fucking guardian angel. Like always.

His knuckles quickly started to come away bloody, the boy's nose already busted, probably broken. The girls fled but the other boys lingered doubtfully. He took a step forward but froze when we both saw the glint. Dean had pulled out his knife. The other boy fled as I rushed forward, screaming his name at the top of my lungs. Dean didn't even look up.

I jumped onto his back and wrestled away the knife, flinging as far away as I possibly could. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him off. But he was lost to me. He couldn't see me, didn't even know I was there. He elbowed me in the gut and bucked me off, then stood and started to stomp on the boy.

I sat on my arse, watching Dean beat this kid into unconsciousness, and I knew he wouldn't stop until the red left his vision. And the boy could well be dead.

So I ran.

I stripped off the wig and threw in a bush. I hid around the corner, near enough that I could see the cops come, watched as Dean punched a cop in the face and took a baton to the skull. They didn't shoot him and that's why I'd stayed at all, to make sure they didn't kill him.

I went home.

I climbed up the drain pipe and into the bathroom on the second floor, washing and rewashing my face until the marker was mostly gone and my face was rubbed raw. Geoff knocked at the door and called in surprise that he hadn't heard me come in. I ignored him and he finally left. I went straight to my room and curled up under the covers.

Dean never dragged my name into the assault and none of the kids came forward and offered it either. The boy Dean beat woke up and kept his kips sealed as well. Don't Tattle was a foster kid rule but in general it was a regular kid rule too. Snitches were the bottom of the barrel.

I didn't visit Dean. It was my fault he was in there and I was so ashamed, I couldn't even face him. He didn't call either. And I know it was because he knew I needed space but a part of me insisted on believing it was because he was furious with me, ashamed of me too.

I started college and not a week in I was jumped after school. They tore off my clothes (which made me have a mini panic attack) and covered me in eggs and flower. Around my waist they tied a red dildo. My brain screamed for Dean, but I stayed quiet.

They took my clothes and I walked home shoeless and in only a wifebeater and boxers. Before I could shimmy up the drain pipe Jeff opened the front door and swooped down on me, confusion and horror in his eyes. I'd spent so much energy hiding the bullyiing from my dads but I was tired, too fucking tired and I didn't have Dean. When Geoff asked in his calm voice (that hitched for a second and made my heart clench) what had been happening I showed them the "Franky Ain't Got a Fanny". I managed to convince them not to call the cops. Four hours of rage and tears later and me sitting on the couch with a blank face, Geoff announced we were moving.

So we packed up and did.

I largely stopped talking. When we arrived in Bristol I was two weeks late for school but I refused to leave my new room until my nest was complete, so Geoff&Jeff let me hide for an extra week. I spent every waking moment putting my town back together, making it better, setting up my spin deck, my fabrics, everything. I needed it to feel safe. I didn't have Dean so my room had to be my perfect safe haven.

Finally, two days before my first day at Roundview, I picked up the phone and called the Oxford Care System main office. A bored secretary connected me to Helen, my old social. She tried to do the pleasantries but I stayed quiet until she shut up, and then said, "This is our new number. Give it to Dean when he gets out?"

There was silence on the other end. Then Helen said, "I don't think that's a good idea Francesca."

"What? …why?"

"Francesca you've been adopted. You're out."

"…so? Dean's my best friend."

"This is unhealthy. Let him go. Leave him behind."

She hung up.