Something was wrong.
He didn't know what. He didn't know how. And he sure as heck didn't know why. But Jeremiah Walker had a sixth-sense about these things. So he knew something was wrong.
It rankled him from the second his eyes opened, master bedroom still dark and the house eerily silent. Walker hadn't been a superstitious man in life, and in death he wasn't prone to jumping to conclusions, but the feeling made him tense either way. Because this wasn't normal before-everyone-woke-up quiet. That kind tended to get broken by Danny mumbling in his sleep, Spectra letting out a snore or two (although she'd bust her own lung before she'd admit to it), or the house settling. This was heavy quiet. A quiet that pressed down hard on your ears until you thought your head was gonna pop.
The kind of quiet you experience near predators.
Walker tried to shake it off. Tried to go about his normal morning routine. But his shoulders stayed tense through his shower, his hands clenched so tight around his tooth-brush they cramped, and by the time he'd finished combing his hair he'd formed himself a lovely little tension headache. Were he a different man, it could almost be classified as anxiety. But Jeremiah Walker didn't do "anxiety."
It was a bad feeling, that's all.
But something kept whispering in the back of his mind. A nagging little voice that said he needed to check on Danny. Which didn't make sense because Walker knew dang well Spectra had slept in the punk's room last night – as she tended to do after a longer day or when he'd had a bad anxiety attack – so there wasn't any need. But it wouldn't leave him alone.
Walker briefly considered it a weakness when he found himself marching down the hall without changing out of his pajamas, just because tanks and flannel bottoms weren't exactly intimidating. He glanced into Spectra's bedroom. Empty as he expected. The feeling didn't go away as he paced towards the last doorway.
Still. . . if there was one thing he'd learned over the years, it was to always follow your gut. No matter how ridiculous you thought you were being.
Gently, so he wouldn't wake up Danny on accident, Walker knocked on the door frame. "Spectra? You up yet?"
No answer. Typical – woman usually drug her lazy self outta bed when she finally caught the smell of food. Or when Danny called for her. The latter was usually more effective. Still, he wasn't surprised by the lack of response. Didn't help his nerves any, though.
Walker fought with himself for a moment. If there was nothing wrong, and he went in, then he'd be waking Danny and the She-Devil before they needed to be up. Which was not a good way to start the day (a lesson he'd learned early on). But if there was. . .
Hesitation wasn't an option. Walker opened the door slowly, creeping into the room as quietly as he could. Danny's red night-light cast weird shadows on the furniture and walls, but he could see well enough. His boy was curled in the middle of the bed, wrapped around a massive gray teddy that they'd gotten him for Christmas. On the sly, of course – couldn't have people thinking his kids were spoiled or nothing. The blankets had been tucked firmly around his little body, pillows fluffed and arranged.
But Spectra wasn't there.
He knew she'd slept in here. Almost a month together had given him at least a little insight into how she operated, and she always slept in Danny's room after a break-through or a bad day. Like clockwork. It didn't make sense for her to break pattern now. Not after Danny admitted how much he loved them.
The claxons in the back of his skull were screaming.
Tense, anxious, Walker closed the door to Danny's bedroom with a quiet snick and padded back down the hall. The muscles in his shoulders felt like they would never unwind, fine hairs along his neck and forearms on end. Glanced in the bathroom. Empty. Nothing in her bedroom. It was still. Quiet. He could hear his own core pounding in his ears.
He rounded the corner to the stairs, teeth grinding to dust in his jaw. But then he noticed a light on in the kitchen. Walker relaxed ever so slightly. He descended the stairs quietly, feet bare on the carpet runner, listening hard for any sort of sound. Thankfully, he was greeted by the sound of muffled cursing.
"C'mon, Penelope, it's just a couple of cuts. Quit being a bitch-baby. . . Fucking shit!"
It almost made him snort. But his nerves still couldn't handle whatever his gut feeling was, so he suppressed the urge. Instead, Walker stepped into the dim kitchen with a frown, ready to tear into Spectra for both swearing in his house and freaking him out by being awake at oh-five-thirty. Except he couldn't force himself to do either of those things.
Because Spectra was leaning over the sink, ectoplasm dripping over her forearms and staining the floor, a huge shiner glaring on the left side of her face.
"What in the name of Jesus Christ happened to you?!"
The words bubbled out before he could stop them, and Spectra froze in the midst of pouring disinfectant. Walker tracked her movements – cataloguing body language was something that he'd learned from the academy – as she whirled around to look at him. He'd never seen such wide-eyed panic from the woman. She was always so confident. So in control of herself.
Now she looked like every abuse victim he'd seen while on the force.
"What the fuck, Walker?!" It was a snarl, panicked, like an animal who'd been trapped. "Why the shit are you even down here?!"
He couldn't. . .
He couldn't breathe. . .
Walker crossed the room in two steps, wide-eyed and unable to really grasp what the heck was going on. "What happened?!"
Under the violent bruising covering her left eye and cheekbone, Spectra flushed bright red. Her jaw clenched, body visibly shaking. She tried to cover the ragged gashes on each forearm. But there was no covering them, not when one hand wouldn't even spread all the way over them. Not when they were dripping green all over his clean floors, deep enough that they hadn't healed yet. They hadn't healed yet.
"It's nothing," she lied, avoiding eye-contact. "Just had a bit of an accident, that's all."
"An accident?!" Walker snapped, just barely keeping his voice below a shout. "An accident that gave you a shiner the size'a Dallas an' sliced you up like a Christmas ham?! Jesus, sugar, don' gimme that!"
Spectra flinched away from him, and Walker felt his brain implode a little. Rage pulsed behind his eyes, and for a second all he could hear was the sound of ectoplasm hitting the floor in fat droplets. But he had to keep his cool. Going off like a Fourth of July display wouldn't do anything but make things worse. He knew that. Didn't mean he had to frickin' like it, though.
"Alright, alright," he soothed, " 'm sorry. Didn' mean ta yell. Let's get'cha cleaned up 'fore Danny rolls around. Can't go scarin' 'im."
Something in his gut soured when Walker realized she still wouldn't make eye-contact. Jaw still clenched, glaring down at the floor, Spectra turned back to the sink and started the tap. She didn't say another word, just went back to scrubbing ectoplasm off her skin. The sink was stained green. Gently, Walker reached out and took hold of her wrist. He was a little shocked that she didn't fight him.
He took the antiseptic-soaked towel from her and started to wash. The gashes were deep. And if they'd been anything other than ghost-inflicted, they would've already healed themselves.
"Jesus, Pen, who did this to you?" Walker breathed.
For the first time since he'd caught her off-guard, Spectra looked him in the eye. They shone in the dim kitchen lights, bright emerald with red veins running through them. And her expression hit him square in the diaphragm because she looked so damn skeptical. Skeptical and angry and hopeless.
"Why the hell do you care?" she shot back. "The bruise'll be gone by the time Danny wakes up, and I can cover these with bandages. I wouldn't let him see. You know better than to think that."
What made him upset was that she was right on both counts. That shiner looked gnarly, lots of shades of green and brown, so it was going to be gone in an hour or two. And he did know better. Spectra loved that boy more than anyone could possibly imagine, more than anyone probably thought she was capable of. So why was she so callous about this? Why did she think that he wouldn't care whether or not she was getting torn to pieces and beaten silly in the middle of the night? In his house?
Walker could feel his shoulders tightening. He could hear war-drums pounding in his head.
"Do y'all really think 'm that shallow?" he questioned. "That I don' care that someone beat ya silly? You're a sassy pain in my rear with a filthy mouth, sug, but I ain't about ta sit by an' let someone beat the fire outta ya when 'm not lookin'."
The air was silent for several long minutes.
Spectra swallowed thickly, and Walker saw something behind her gaze break a little. He stopped staring, went back to gently cleaning out her gashes. It took a while just because the edges had been shredded and they were deep. He catalogued each one in his head. Standard inflammation, normal reactions to trauma. He'd seen plenty during his time in the military. Grabbing a roll of bandages, the warden started to wrap each forearm, making sure the skin surrounding the wounds was clean and dry. When he was finished, Walker shoved her gently towards the kitchen table.
"Sit down an' I'll pour ya a drink," he growled. "You're shakin', an' those've gotta hurt. It'll take the edge off."
There was something really wrong.
Because Spectra did as she was told without a word.
Tense, angry with himself for not being able to keep this from happening, Walker cleaned up the mess spattered over the hardwood and countertop. The bright green stains mocked him. Made him wonder whether he wanted to put his fist through a wall or throw up. Instead, he gritted his teeth and powered through. The ancient rag he'd grabbed was soaked through by the time he got done.
After searching through the liquor cabinet for a minute, he poured two fingers of bourbon in a tumbler and slumped into the chair nearest Spectra. "Here. Sip it slow – don' want a repeat of last time."
Thankfully, she offered him a half-hearted glare, so she wasn't entirely lost in her own head. But her fingers still shook as she took a swig, and the broken something behind her eyes still hadn't gone away. Walker leaned a little onto his elbows to get a closer look at Spectra. He hadn't noticed before, but there were more bruises around her throat, already faded to near-nothing. They were shaped like hand-prints, and he was willing to bet money that there were definite finger marks on the back of her neck.
Rage resurged through his chest.
"Would you quit staring at me?!" Spectra growled. "I know I look like shit. You don't have to paint a fucking billboard on my forehead."
Walker thought his head was about to explode. "Spectra, you got handprints on yer neck! Forgive me fer bein' old-fashioned, but I grew up thinkin' it wasn' right to beat a woman senseless."
"Yeah, well, not everyone seems to have gotten that memo." Spectra shifted uncomfortably in her seat, a fingernail picking at the edge of her bandages. "It's nothing, really. I'm a big girl, can get drunk and put on bandages all by myself next time."
Did she just not get it?
"Hon, do ya really think it's okay for someone ta do this to you?" he rasped.
Her answer was short and clipped, eyes flashing crimson as she shot him a withering look. "No. I don't. But it's not like I can really do anything about it. So here the fuck we are."
"Watch yer mouth." It was an automatic response. "An what d'ya mean ya 'can't do anything about it?' I know you ain't weak; fight back! Or call me fer backup!"
Spectra ran her finger around the rim of her glass, face a mask of indifference. "I just couldn't, okay? Drop it."
"That ain't gonna fly an' y'all know it!" Walker snarled. "What. Happened?"
A delicate hand slammed the tumbler down on the kitchen table, and Spectra roared, "HE COULD'VE HURT DANNY, OKAY?! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO FUCKING KNOW?! THAT I'M A DUMBASS AND CAN'T EVEN PROTECT A LITTLE BOY RIGHT?!"
There were many things about Penelope Spectra that he didn't understand in the slightest. This moment looked like it would be one of them. She was panting, livid, black veins creeping along her skin. But what got him were the tears, big angry ones that gathered at the corners of her eyes. It made his throat grow tight.
"Is that. . . is that what you think?" Walker started, voice hoarse. "That you gotta get beaten to protect Danny from some. . . waste who would do this to you?"
Her silence was an answer in of itself.
"Jesus, Pen! What did they even say?! I would'a come in a sec if you'd a jus' called me!"
Spectra was still crying – angry crying, he was sure, but crying – and she was so tense he thought that something would break in her jaw. Then, so quiet he could barely hear it, she whispered, "He didn't have to say anything. I know him. He'd break Danny. And he wouldn't even bat an eye."
He knew immediately who she was talking about. "How did Bertrand even get here?"
Fingers trembling, Spectra dropped her head into her hands and choked out, "I have no fucking clue how Bertrand does anything. But it was better to let him hurt me. Because then he was focused on me, not Danny. I can take it – I don't think Danny can."
Walker just stared and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Hon, you shouldn' hafta take it. Nobody should get tossed around like he did you."
Her breath hitched, caught somewhere in her chest, and it made the warden's skin itch. Slowly, Spectra looked up at him, and the warden felt his heart squeeze. The tears weren't angry anymore. They were heartbroken, defeated. Everything that he thought this outspoken, foul-mouthed, pain in his rear could never be.
"I was sitting watching Danny, and he was just there," she rasped. "I didn't even hear him get in. How could I not have heard him get in?"
No. She was blaming herself for everything Bertrand did. That was not okay. And neither were the tears that still ran over her cheeks.
"Now you stop that," he growled half-heartedly. "It ain't yer fault he got in. Nothin' 'bout this is your fault. Jus' tell me next time. I promise, he ain't gonna touch you again. Not if I got somethin' to say 'bout it."
Spectra stared at him for a long moment, tears still gushing, and something about her expression made his stomach tie itself in knots. It reminded him way too much of Danny when they tried to tell him he was a good kid, or when they said he could have this toy or this food. A combination of disbelief and skepticism and desperate hope.
"You can't promise me that," she whispered.
"The heck I can't! You watch me." The tears came faster, and Walker shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. "Aww, c'mon, sugar! I ain't good at dealin' with cryin', makes m' skin itch."
Spectra scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand, the skin around them red and puffy. "I'm not crying, asshole. My eyes are watering because my arms burn like a motherfucker."
He couldn't help but grin a little – there she was. "Watch yer mouth. Danny'll be up in a bit."
"Fucking bite me." The words were filthy, but they held no real heat.
This time, he laughed. "What 'm I gonna do with you? 's like everythin' I say goes in one ear an' out the other."
One fist – not big, but bony as all get-out – smacked him in the bicep. It stung. But Spectra managed to smile up at him, and Walker felt his shoulders relax for the first time since he woke up that morning. Without thinking, he reached out and wiped the tears off her cheeks with a thumb, gently tapping her on the chin when he was done.
"Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole, Tex?" she joked, eyes a little wide.
Walker snorted. "Please – I hear that at least four times a day, sugar. An' I ain't been to the prison in nearly a month."
They stood, and as he plucked the empty tumbler off the table, Spectra reached over and grasped his wrist. She squeezed it gently, not looking him in the eye. "Thank you, Walker."
For a second, he didn't say anything. Then he grinned and snarked, "You're welcome, Pen. But tell me somethin' – did that hurt? Sounded like it did."
Another punch hit it's mark right over the first one, underlined by an exasperated snort. "Fuck off! I'm trying to thank you like a normal person."
"There ain't nobody that's gonna believe that. But like I said, you're welcome." Walker gestured towards the door. "Y'all might wanna get back up there. Danny'll work 'imself up if he wakes up an' you ain't there."
Spectra nodded. "I'll be down with him in a little while. Are you making pancakes again?"
This was oddly domestic, given how awful the morning had been thus far. But he wouldn't complain. He'd take domestic over damaged any day. Not that anything involving Danny didn't shriek "damaged" either way.
"Either that or French toast." He shrugged. "You got a preference? Since we're both up, I figured we could have an early breakfast. 's not like we ain't got time."
He'd figured out that while Spectra thought misery was a delicacy, she was a nightmare to try and cook for. Because she was a picky brat. But they'd figured out if he gave her options, she usually picked what she would eat. Danny didn't care either way. . .
Mostly because the little boy was just excited to have food.
"I like French toast better, but I'm pretty sure Danny would rather eat pancakes because someone spoils him and makes shapes."
Walker scowled as he scrubbed the glass she'd used. "I do not spoil him! Jus' 'cause I'm good at makin' Mickey Mouse pancakes don' mean I do it every time."
She shot him a Look. "You made him an actual train last week. With bacon tracks. And steam."
Even though his cheeks were burning a little, Walker just shrugged it off. "He's had a rough go of it. Figured if he wanted a train, I should give 'im a train. That ain't spoilin' – that's just bein' decent."
Spectra rolled her eyes. "God forbid someone accuse you of being the soft parent, Tex."
"Would you get on?! 'm tryin' ta get yer French toast together, an' I can't do that if someone's standin' there sassin' me!" He wasn't about to comment on the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes, Danny's parents at this point.
It was a can of worms that didn't need to be opened.
The grin that he got in response was nothing short of dazzling, and it punched him square in the chest. "Whatever, cowboy. I'm going to wake him up and get him dressed. Half an hour good?"
Walker glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven. "Yeah. Shouldn't take much longer 'n that."
As she turned to leave, Spectra paused and turned back. "Does my face still look like a poster for Haven House? I don't want to go up there if I'm just going to traumatize him the minute he opens his eyes."
At this point, you'd have to be looking for them to see the bruises. "No. You ain't gonna traumatize him when he wakes up."
But Walker felt like they'd been burned into his brain.
He'd have to make a call to Bullet.
~*O*~
They were going to get fucking destroyed.
"Your Harley's slow as shit, old man! Think you can catch us?!" Ember's shriek set his teeth on edge.
Tay piped in a second later. "Nah, nah, n-nah, nah! Catch us if you can, losers!"
His bones were already starting to ache from the sheer volume of bullshit spewing from the pair of them.
Johnny was pushing his Harley as fast as it could go, but Ember and Tay were fast-fast. Like it bordered on the ridiculous fast. He growled to himself – Shadow wouldn't work here. He was faster than the pair of jackasses up ahead, but a lot more destructive. It wouldn't do anything but make the chase more fun for Tay. With the wonderful bonus of pissing of Ember, of course.
Beside him, Skulker's rockets were whining in vicious protest against the speeds they were traveling. The ghost himself was muttering quiet curses.
"Why the hell couldn't these two have a normal hobby? Like not getting us all killed?!"
Johnny snorted. "Dude, you're the one who decided to date Em. You got no one to blame but you."
Skulker dodged a cannonball – Taylor was in full Youngblood mode by now – and shot him a glare that probably could've melted brains. "Would you like to keep talking? Perhaps I can cut off the chase and spend my time mounting your pelt on my wall?"
What was it with this dude and pelts? Johnny shuddered a bit, trying to force down the prickle of cold anger Shadow rushed up his spine. His bud was awesome most of the time, but threats didn't usually sit well. Sometimes it took a lot to keep him from. . . doing things. Bad things. Like, pass on to the Other Side bad things.
"Now is so not the time to be mad at me, dig?" As he watched, Ember and Taylor started the sweep around the event horizon of a very familiar black hole. "They're really gonna get someone hurt if we don't stop them. And by someone, I mean them. Penelope will literally eat them alive."
She would.
Penelope was a fucking machine when someone made her angry, apparently, and Johnny had seen enough to know that if they scared Danny, she would carve out their cores with a smile before she shoved them back down their respective throats. It'd be ugly as shit. And he really wasn't brave enough to deal with angry Penny and ready-to-slaughter Pops.
So here they were.
Trying to keep Ember and Tay from doing stupid things.
Again.
They didn't have much time. And even though he knew his poor bike didn't have much more to give him, Johnny leaned into the throttle as hard as he could. Beside him, Skulker's rockets had reached a fever-pitch of shrieking. They were gaining ground. But it wasn't enough, not by a long-shot, because Ember had already touched down on the front lawn. Tay landed right behind her, cackling as he sprinted towards the front door on bare feet.
Well – bare foot and prosthetic metal foot-contraption thing. Somehow he'd lost his little boots between the Rock-in-the-Middle-of-Nowhere and here.
Johnny felt panic creep up his throat. They were gonna bust open the door. Bust open the door and make a metric fuck-ton of noise. Which would send poor Danny into a shrieking panic attack, Pops into a Mood, and prompt Penny to eviscerate them.
So, in he did something really fucking stupid. "Shadow, trap!"
There was a burst of excited malice in his chest, and then Shadow was gone. He rushed along the grass like an ink-spill, claws outstretched towards Tay and Ember. Poor bastards never knew what hit them. One second, Ember was shoving their little brother away so she could rush up the porch stairs. The next, she was flat on her fucking face alongside him, Shadow growling happily over them.
It would've been kind of a dick move if they hadn't been such assholes all damn morning. At this point, Ember's swearing and Tay's panicked shriek were like music.
Sweet, sweet music. . .
Relief washing over him, Johnny dropped his bike onto a patch of grass away from the pair. Took his sweet damn time wandering over too. Skulker followed him a second later, the rockets retracting into his metallic body. He was scowling. Which was normal, right? But Johnny felt like, in this case, it was understandable.
"What the actual fuck, Dickhead?!" Ember snarled. "Get Spooky the Specter off me!"
Her hair was going to catch the lawn on fire again. Pops would be pissed. But, at this point, Johnny almost wanted to say "fuck it" and watch the explosion. Which was probably a bad idea – but with his track record, it was pretty much expected.
"Shadow, keep 'em there." Johnny tapped a cigarette out of his case, lighting it with the tip of one finger. "You dumbasses are gonna sit there until I can get somethin' through your fuckin' heads, got it?"
He didn't really like swearing around Tay all that much – made his Pops radar go off – but there were situations where it just had to happen. Like now. This was one.
"Aww, c'mon Johnny!" Taylor whined, arms crossed as he pouted under one of Shadow's huge claws. "We just wanna meet the new kid! He's younger than me, right? You didn't say, but I know. I wanna be the big bro for once!"
Skulker made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. "You had better listen to him, whelp. The warden isn't very well known for his forgiving nature. I wonder what he would do if he figured out you deliberately disobeyed one of his Rules, hmm?"
That was a low fucking blow.
But it seemed to get the job done. Ember stopped squirming, face pale under her makeup, and Tay's eyes went wide. Poor little guy gulped, lips wobbling.
"Johnny, he wouldn't do anything bad to us, right? I don't wanna go to jail. Ember says I have a pretty mouth!" Taylor yelped.
Johnny could practically feel his skin crawl, and he shot his little sister a Look. "Jesus, Em, what the fuck did you tell him?!"
"I told him not to drop the soap." She shrugged even though Shadow had her pinned. "It's solid advice, dude, there's some real creeps in Papa's joint."
"He's ten!"
A blank look of confusion. "So?"
Johnny didn't know if he wanted to scream or just break something. Maybe both. He'd figure it out later. He settled on running both hands through his hair – it was already gross, hadn't brushed it in a couple days – before scrubbing them down his face. Skulker's metal body was creaking behind him. For some godforsaken reason, the giant metal asshole was laughing. Hard. And trying not to make it sound like he was laughing, which he was fucking bad at, and every inch of his being wanted to toss open the door and let Pops unleash.
But he was the big brother, dammit, and the curse of Johnny Can't Keep His Fucking Mouth Shut wasn't about to change that.
Besides, Shadow was getting a little antsy being this close to both Pops and Ember's hair. So they had to get this shit-show on the road.
"Alright, so here's what the fuck is gonna happen," Johnny growled. "I'm going to go in and get my ass handed to me by Pops. Then, I'm gonna explain that you two are a pair of idiots who don't listen and let him decide what to do. But what are we not going to do? We're not going to go busting through the front door like assholes because there's a four-year-old with PTSD living in our old bedroom. Got it? Good."
Ember opened her mouth to argue.
"Don't argue with him, Ember." Skulker's voice rumbled like thunder – it was kinda cool actually. "You've got a bad habit of letting your temper get the best of you."
He wasn't wrong. Like at all. But it was still weird watching Ember actually listen to someone who wasn't Pops. Well, Pops or someone who was about to kick the shit out of her. Once she'd gotten into a fight with Desiree that ended with her having her lips glued shut for a month. It'd been fucking hysterical.
Johnny took one last drag from his cigarette. The nicotine burned his lungs, but it made his nerves settle just a little bit. God, his family would kill him if he wasn't already, you know, dead. He stubbed it out on the bottom of his boot. Then, slumping his shoulders, because this was going to fucking suck, he trudged up the porch steps to his inevitable doom.
Okay, that might've been an exaggeration, but still. . .
He rapped three times on the door, then waited. His palms were sweaty. Behind him, he could hear Skulker and Ember arguing about whether or not leaving him to get destroyed was a good plan. Tay was on Ember's side (of course) in that he wanted to stay just long enough to watch him get his ass beat before Pops could figure out they were there too. Skulker, like the vicious twat he was, said it wasn't worth the effort because Bullet would catch them just as soon as they got away.
Great show of support, guys, Johnny thought. You're solid fuckin' backup.
The door swung open, and he looked up, expecting to see Pops glaring death down upon his head. But there was no one there. Blinking, Johnny looked down.
Instead of Pops glaring death, it was Penny. Dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms that were too big – were those even hers? – and an old Aerosmith tank. Who looked ready to break his spine and suck his core through it like a straw. Which was fucking horrifying, thank you very much, and Johnny regretted his decision to take one for the team with every inch of his soul.
"What the actual fuck do you idiots think you're doing?" Penny hissed. "We could hear you screeching at each other ten goddamn minutes ago!"
Johnny gulped, then smiled awkwardly. "Hopefully not getting our limbs broken?"
Penny's glare turned bright red, and the black veins he hated so much started to creep out around her eyes. Johnny backpedaled as fast as he could, hands raised in the universal "I surrender" gesture. Because, holy shit. . .
"Jesus, Penny, I just came to talk to Pops! Ember and Tay found out about Danny and they're being assholes because they want to meet him and I couldn't really stop them, dig, so I figured I'd come up here and explain everything before they screwed shit up, and could you please stop staring at me like that because I think my core's trying to melt in my fucking chest?"
Everything erupted in this spew of word-vomit, and Johnny had never wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear so badly in his fucking afterlife. Penelope narrowed her eyes at him, and it was like being under a fucking microscope. An evil microscope that made people want to jump in a tank full of sharks. But just as she opened her mouth to answer him, Pops came rolling into the living room, Danny tucked into the crook of his arm.
"Pen, let 'em in." He sounded more tired than angry, which was a little surprising, but Johnny wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. "They're gonna meet 'im at some point or another. Might as well be now."
The black veins and red eyes went away in a blink, and Penelope turned to gap at Pops. "You're not serious?!"
Pops just lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. "I mean, it's up t' the punk here, really." He glanced over at Danny, who'd been watching them nervously the whole time. "What d'ya think, kiddo? Wanna meet some new people?"
Danny chewed on his lower lip until Pops pulled it out from between his teeth, and Johnny couldn't get over the big pits of ectoplasm in the kid's head. They'd gotten a bit more solid since he'd last seen them. But they just. . . didn't look right, you know? Like, he couldn't help but recoil a bit every time he caught a look at them.
"Are they nice?" he rasped, very quiet. "Not gonna hurt me?"
Pops shook his head once. "No, Danny. Ain't no one in this house gonna hurt you, understand? I promise."
For a second, no one moved. Not Danny, not Spectra, not Pops. Johnny didn't think he even breathed at all. But then, very slowly, the little guy nodded.
"Okay."
Spectra made a weird sound, kind of like a squeak? Or maybe it was just a super quiet, hella strangled shriek. Either way, it made Johnny back away real quick. He looked over at Pops again. He was glaring – surprise, surprise, Johnny fucked up again – but still didn't seem too angry, so that was a good thing, at least.
"Y'all come in quiet," he growled. "An' the moment Danny says he's done, ya gotta leave. Understand?"
Johnny nodded. "Got it, Pops."
He looked over his shoulder at the others, who had apparently been staring with their mouths wide-open the whole damn time, and jerked his chin towards the door. Shadow returned only when he hissed a command under his breath. Taylor got up quicker than Ember, excitement written all over his chubby face. He made to rush into the house.
"Woah, woah, woah, big guy!" Johnny grabbed him just in time, kneeling to look him in the eye. "You've gotta move slow and be quiet. Remember how scared you were when you first got to the Zone? How you didn't like when Em stared at your leg and arm bein' gone? That's what it's like for Danny except he's got it a lot worse. He's little and kinda scared. So you've gotta be patient with him, okay?"
Taylor nodded, eyes still wide but so earnest it made Johnny chuckle. "I got it! I won't stare or nothin', sailor's honor!"
He glanced over at Ember, who'd managed to stand up with Skulker's help. "That goes for you too, Em. Don't scare him right off the bat."
She scowled. "Shut up! I know what I'm doing!"
Yeah. . . like Johnny hadn't heard that one before. When he stood back up, Spectra was glowering at him again, and it kind of, sort of, might've made him jump. Tay squeaked and hid behind his legs.
"If you scare him again," she hissed, "I will break every bone in your body and leave that stupid Shadow of yours to burn. I'll end you."
Holy fucking shit.
"Pen, leave 'im alone. He didn' mean it last time, an' he knows better." Pops was an angel, an angel dressed in bad flannel pajamas. "Now get in here an' quit threatenin' my brats."
With one last filthy look, Spectra let them into the house, stalking back over to where Pops stood with Danny. Johnny didn't really know if he wanted to go in now. Because she'd meant every word, and he wasn't exactly strong enough to fight her really, dig? But then Tay pushed on the back of his knees, the sound of Ember's heavy boots on the front porch echoing, and he couldn't really not go in, could he?
He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. The house was warmer than normal – probably something to do with Danny being so skinny – and it smelled like cinnamon. French Toast, maybe? It was about time for breakfast. Taylor had reached up to grab his hand, Ember shoving her hands into the small of his back.
"I'm goin', I'm goin'!" Johnny griped. "Jesus, have some patience."
Ember snorted as she stepped around him, hair flickering quietly. "Yeah, right. Move over, stupid."
They were moving too quick. Johnny could see Danny starting to shake a little, face buried against Pops' shoulder. He was in a new outfit, a soft pair of blue-fleece pants and a shirt covered in stars. But he didn't think the stars were helping at all.
Pops jogged Danny just a little bit, obviously trying to ignore Spectra hovering at his elbow. "C'mon, bud. Y'all gotta say 'hi' if you wanna be polite."
Of course, Taylor was the first one to pipe up, a massive grin on his chubby cheeks. "Hi! I'm Taylor! But lotsa people call me Tay. What's your name?"
He was pretty quiet, all things considering, but maybe just a bit too loud. Danny let out a weird squeaking noise at the enthusiasm. But then, still shaking, he peeked out from his hiding place. Johnny put a hand on Tay's shoulder and squeezed to keep him from saying anything. But, somehow, there was no reaction. Just the barely-contained enthusiasm that his baby-bro always seemed to have. The big pits of ectoplasm in Danny's head were still horrific, still awful, and they didn't phase Tay at all.
"H-hi," the littlest boy squeaked. "I'm Danny."
Holy shit. . .
It was funny that went through his head. Because that's exactly what Ember muttered right next to him. Johnny elbowed her because, hello, it was one thing to swear around Tay but it was another thing to swear around Danny. Who was four. . .
And now he felt like a hypocrite because the first time he ever met the poor little guy, it'd ended in a lot of swearing and a panic attack.
So Johnny was going to do the best thing for Johnny and keep his goddamn mouth shut.
Taylor's grin widened – like, how was that even possible? – and he practically vibrated in place. "Hi Danny!"
Ember managed to get her shit together enough to fake a smile, even though Johnny was pretty sure she was going to break his hand. "Hey, brat. I'm Ember."
Danny leaned a little further away from Pops, mouth popping into a comical "o!" of surprise. "Pwetty!" He bounced in excitement, grinning over at Penny wide enough that Johnny could see his missing left canine. "Pen, she gots blue haiw!"
It took everything in him not to grin. That'd been Tay's reaction to the fire-hair too. Except he'd gone and tried to yank on it, which ended in a lot of burns, yelling, and Pops nearly blowing an artery in his temple. Danny was probably a lot less prone to wrecking shit.
"Yes, baby, I can see that," Penny chuckled, and it sounded a little wet. "But you shouldn't point at other people. It's rude."
Danny nodded solemnly and looked back over at them. " 'm sowwy, Ember."
Em cackled. "Nah, don't sweat it, kid. But I like your hair more. It's pretty punk-rock."
Well, she wasn't wrong, exactly. The snowy-white hair did look like it belonged in an old Alice Cooper music video. Pops rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and groaned. Penny looked torn between glaring and trying not to laugh.
"C'mon, princess, quit tryin' ta corrupt 'im. He don' know what 'punk-rock' means yet. An' I'd like ta keep it that'a way!"
Shrugging, Ember took a couple of steps closer, arms crossed. "Oh please! It's not like I'm going to start putting makeup on him or anything yet. That has to wait until he's at least known me a year. I'm just going to. . . expand his musical horizons, that's all."
Passing Danny over to Penny with one arm, Pops narrowed his eyes and pointed. "If I hear any 'a that pop-punk, My Chemical Romance crap comin' outta his room, it'll be yer hide."
The threat didn't work like it was supposed to because Ember grinned, eyes twinkling, and Taylor couldn't seem to stop giggling. "You actually remembered their name! Oh, Papa, I'm so proud of you!"
"They grow up so fast!" Taylor managed to gasp out through his giggling-fit.
For the first time since they'd showed up, Penny didn't look like she wanted to skin them all. She was hiding a giggle behind her hand, the edge of a white bandage just brushing her cheek. Johnny frowned. Well, how the fuck had he missed that? Bandage or no bandage, Pops was blushing and glaring at the same time. Which made everything funny.
"Why do I put up with y'all?" he growled. "What've I done t'deserve all this?"
Danny reached over and patted Pops on the arm, not quite giggling since he didn't really understand the joke. "Is okay, Walk."
It looked like Ember was going to explode. Mostly because the little guy was just so damn cute. She stepped a little bit closer, but stopped when Danny flinched away, burying himself into Penny's collarbone.
"Aww, c'mon, Babypop!" Ember coaxed. "I thought we were gonna get along?"
No answer.
Penny jostled him just a little bit. "Danny, sweetie, do you want to stop? You don't have to talk if you don't want to."
Honestly, that was kinda disappointing? Not that Johnny didn't get it! People were fucking awful, and he didn't want to add any more stress to the poor kiddo's life, but they'd literally just got finished laughing at Pops? It felt sort of anti-climactic. And he could tell that Tay felt the same way from the massive pout that was forming, arms crossed and frown creasing between his eyes. Johnny didn't blame him either – they hadn't seen Pops in almost two months, and now they were getting shoved out the door.
Then Tay grinned. "Hey, Danny, do you wanna go upstairs and play instead? We don't gotta talk if you don't wanna!"
For a second, no one moved. No one breathed. They all just stood there, gaping like a bunch of idiots at Taylor, who had literally no fucking clue how monumental what he just said was. Because. . .? Did Danny even remember how to play? Johnny remembered coming here and being really fucked up by what his old man had done when he was, you know, alive. But what the little guy had been through was a whole different damn ball-game. He couldn't even wrap his head around trusting someone enough to play after getting your eyes scooped out like hard-boiled eggs or something.
Ugh, he shouldn't have thought that. Now he was queasy.
But then Danny smiled, just a tiny one, and glanced over at Pops and Penny. "Can we?"
Spectra looked like she was going to cry. Which was really fucking weird. And Pops looked like a stout wind could blow him over.
"Yeah, punk, go on ahead." He looked over at Taylor with a half-glare. "Y'all come right back the minute he's done, okay?"
One mock salute later, Taylor chirped out, "Yes sir! C'mon, Danny! Let's go play!"
Danny squirmed to be put down even though Penny didn't really seem like she wanted to. The minute his little feet hit the floor, he stumbled, and both adults jolted to try and catch him. Except they got there too late. Tay was standing there instead, one hand on the little guy's skinny elbow. He was still grinning.
"You okay?"
Nodding, Danny rasped, "Yep! Let's p'ay!"
The (weird) pair made their way upstairs much more slowly than Johnny would've thought possible, considering Tay was filled with fucking monster energy ninety percent of the time. As soon as they were both out of earshot, he sighed in relief and scrubbed his hands through his hair.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Em, I'm gonna kill both of you one day," he groaned. "I don't think my core can handle this shit anymore."
"Watch yer mouth!" Pops barked.
As Ember started cackling at him, Penny still glaring up the stairs without paying attention, Johnny wondered if there was any possibility of him making it back to Kitty with all his limbs intact. . .
"Ember! Are you finished ogling the new whelp yet?! I wish to hunt."
"Fuck off, Skulker, go on if you're bored or something!"
"Would y'all kindly stop swearin' in my house!"
. . . nope.
Johnny slumped into the couch and silently wondered why the actual fuck he couldn't have a somewhat normal family.
(Still, he thought, he probably wouldn't trade them out if he had the chance.)
A/N:
Okay, so it's been nearly a month, I'm in my second year of pharmacy school (officially) and everything is falling to shit. But! I persevered and managed to crank out another chapter for you guys before everything goes to hell in a handbasket. I'm so sorry that I haven't been able to update with the frequency that I desire. However, I'm very much a quality over quantity kind of person, and I didn't want to post something that didn't live up to the standards I had set myself in order to get it out faster.
That being said, this chapter was supposed to cover Jazz and Vlad meeting for the first time, and it's not quite as refined as I would like. But this is the closest I figured it would get to perfect - no beta readers, we die like men - and it got away from me.
So. . . yeah, that didn't fucking happen.
Still, I thank you guys so much for your patience and support, and I can't wait to see what comments you leave for me in the reviews!
See you in the next one!
BlackRosePoetry