WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

142. Life is Strange 2 Sean and Daniel 51

Be it through time and space, I'll still come back for you

msmooseberry

Summary:

Sean goes camping in the canyon with his brother only to fall into a cave that sends him six years into the future, the one where he got shot and died at the border. As he struggles to accept this new reality and reunites with Daniel in Mexico, he begins to realise that there are more differences than just a six-year age gap between the little brother he left in Arizona and the one he found in Puerto Lobos.

Notes:

I saw RRakatsuki's fanart with Sean meeting Lone Wolf Daniel and came up with this.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The trip to the canyon was supposed to be a magnificent experience.

Ever since they arrived in Arizona Sean was captivated by its immense night sky. Karen was right when she said the further south the better it gets. He couldn't wait to see the stars up close in the telescope they'd borrowed from Arthur and Stanley.

His eagerness must've rubbed off on Daniel because he got so in the mood he kept running ahead of him as they climbed the rocky slopes.

Sean didn't even scold him for it, but as he picked up his own pace he became less attentive to where he was going. And that was what started this whole nightmare.

In all the months they spent on the run Sean had gone through hell and back, but from day one, and especially after escaping from the church cult psychos, his greatest fear was to lose Daniel.

And right now Sean has no idea where his brother is. Hell, he has no idea where he is either. Last thing he remembers is hurrying after Daniel up an uneven path, and pulling a flashlight out of the bag since it was getting dark and he didn't want to trip on something. Which was exactly what happened.

Apparently, he stumbled and fell, not off the cliff, thankfully, since he was keeping pretty far from the edge, but into some sort of cave. Where he blacked out for a moment.

Okay, maybe longer than a moment. When he woke up he could already see sunlight streaming in from the hole about fifteen feet above. He tried calling Daniel, and then just shouting for help, but was only met with his own echo. The cave was large and stretched further down and to the side so Sean couldn't make out where it ended. And honestly, he was reluctant to leave the bright spot to go into the unknown.

He tried to think logically. He fell, Daniel certainly freaked out, probably even thought he was dead. But he didn't come down for him, which was good, because he must've gone looking for help and had to be back at some point. That's why he decided to wait. He had water and food too.

Time went by, however, and as the patch of sunlight moved further and further across the stony floor Sean began to doubt that anybody was coming. With doubt came fear. What if something happened to Daniel as well? Sure, he had his own flashlight and the way back to Away was rather simple. But it didn't mean shit. Even with his superpower Daniel was still a kid.

His next idea was to climb back up, but after three failed attempts and chafed palms and forearms Sean gave up. That's when he decided to explore the cave and see if there was an exit on the other side.

So here he is, walking along the tunnel that stretches on and on and seems to be going down. His head is pulsing with a dull pain, as well as his left shoulder and side, but at least nothing is broken. The flashlight is working fine, even though it blinks a few times when he's walked for about ten minutes, and switches off completely for a few horrifying seconds where Sean hears his heart pounding in his chest so loudly he thinks he might go deaf. But then it lights up again and he continues walking, picking up pace as much as the cramped space allows it.

Luckily, the tunnel doesn't fork, and eventually Sean reaches another chamber which is larger than the one into which he fell. It is also littered with rocks and boulders of various sizes. He stops and points his flashlight at the walls, hoping to find another opening.

He misses it the first time, and feels the beginning of a panic attack tugging on his insides, but then the electric beam falls on the narrow passage in the furthest left corner. Sean walks towards it on unsteady feet, praying silently to the God he doesn't believe in that it is the exit he is looking for.

And it is. Fresh air comes from that corner, and through the crack in the solid rock Sean can make out tufts of dry prickly vegetation, more reddish rocks and a patch of blue sky that's already tinted orange. The fit is really tight, Sean has to take off his backpack and practically squeeze through, but after he makes a little effort he falls out on the other side. The backpack, unfortunately, stays out of his reach and he isn't too eager to climb back inside. Maybe he'll fetch it later, after he's found his brother.

Sean looks around, and to his immense surprise and relief the place looks like the very beginning of the path they took when they started climbing up with Daniel. It means that he's not far from Away and can get there in less than half an hour if he walks fast.

Sean doesn't waste any more time and heads back.

—

He realises that something's not right the moment he catches sight of the trailers and Joan's sculptures towering over them.

For one, there's a sculpture that Sean doesn't recognise. It has a huge round base, a spider-like thingie for arms and a flat head on top. He knows he must've been gone for a day or two, but Joan couldn't have put it together in that amount of time. Alright, maybe with Daniel's help she could, but didn't he have more pressing matters at hand? Like finding his missing brother.

But there's something else. The closer Sean gets the more obvious it becomes - the sculptures, and the trailers as well, somehow look older, like they've been out in the elements for several more years. And then there are also a couple of new trailers Sean is sure he's never seen before.

That can't be right though, can it?

The last few feet that separate him from Away Sean runs.

It's early evening so there are people gathering around the fire pit, chatting idly with each other and going about preparing dinner. For a moment Sean feels a rush of indignation at how indifferent they are to his disappearance. Then icy horror washes over him when he comes up with the only possible explanation.

Daniel didn't return. They think he and Sean are still in the canyon, doing some hiking after the sleepover. They are probably expecting them to return together. Daniel is not here. Daniel is somewhere out there. Looking for him.

Sean is ready to turn on his heel and run back when a familiar voice calls him.

"Hey, son, are you new here? When did you arrive?" Sean whips around so fast his eye doesn't immediately focus, and he must look really dumb. But it's David, who knows him well, why is he-

"Sean?" The voice that comes from his left is full of disbelief and undisguised anguish. He has to turn his head again to look at Karen, and when he does, he freezes in place.

She looks older too, maybe not awfully so but it's noticeable enough to see the change at first glance. Her hair is cropped shorter and she's wearing Joan's colourful vest. Still, that's not what strikes Sean most, it's the tears that stream down her face, which is shocked and pale, like she's just seen a ghost.

Sean takes it in the light of his latest terrifying discovery. She knows that something happened to him and Daniel at the canyon, and since Daniel's not back with him she assumes the worst.

"Mom," he starts, and sounds so pitiful it reminds him of the time he broke her favourite mug when he was six and came to apologise. Only now it's much more serious than some stupid mug. "I lost Daniel, I- I don't know where he is." She takes a step closer, face still haunted and glistening with tears, and Sean feels the need to explain himself, so he pushes on. "We were up in the canyon and he was right beside me, but then I fell, and hit my head, I think, and when I woke up he was gone, and I thought he'd gone back here and waited, and then went looking for him, but I couldn't find him and- I need to go back! He's out there, all alone, he's somewhere out there, what- What are you-?"

He's worked himself up as he spoke and didn't notice people gathering around them. There are more unfamiliar faces but it doesn't matter to him right now. All that matters is that they need to go look for Daniel.

Instead Karen comes up to him and puts her hands on his shoulders, slowly and softly, like she believes he can disappear any second. Which is ridiculous but also very unsettling.

She knows something he doesn't. He can see it in her searching hopeful eyes.

"Is that really you, Sean?" she asks quietly, tentatively, and Sean almost screams.

"Of course it's me! Didn't you hear me, we need to go now!" His voice pitches high with worry, and he can't understand what the matter is with her. And with everybody. He turns around frantically and everywhere he looks he meets the same sombre faces.

He feels sick to his stomach.

"No," he wheezes out when Karen pulls him into a tight embrace and starts sobbing into his shirt.

"It really is you, oh Sean, my little boy." Sean wants to push her away, wants to do something, but the dreadful assumption keeps him stiff and immobile in her arms.

"No, no, no, don't tell me that something's- that he's- Mom?" His lungs constrict painfully and he knows that he's this close to hyperventilating, when she takes a step back, holding him by the shoulders still. She's frowning at him, and it's the worst omen if Sean has to think of one.

"You haven't aged at all," she says completely out of the blue.

Sean's hectic mind staggers.

"Wh- Why would I? I've only been gone a day. Or two?" he says with less certainty than he had when he first started talking to her.

Karen's face becomes stony and she lets go of him as if burned.

"Sean, you're-" She takes another step back, and Sean's blood runs cold.

Something has got to be very wrong here. And Daniel missing is not the only reason why.

"Son, you were gone for six years." It's David who says that. Sean turns to him and it feels like he's moving under water. David's voice seems far away and distorted and there's a growing pressure in Sean's chest.

"What- are you talking about?" he asks weakly. David says something else but it's drowned out by the sound of Sean's madly beating heart.

There is ringing in his ears, but then comes a moment of sharp acuteness where he hears Karen's next words with dreadful clarity.

"You were killed at the border six years ago."

Chapter 2

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sean was never really certain he'd make it to Puerto Lobos. As close as he was to it in Arizona, with just a few miles before and past the border that separated him and Daniel from their father's hometown, he had doubts. The risk of getting caught was always there, no matter where they were.

And then, suppose they did get across, how would they make it work in another country, what would they do for a living? Anything could happen to them in Mexico, and nobody promised it would be easier or safer than it was in America.

He tried to be positive, of course, and spoke to Daniel about their final goal rather than the various 'what if' scenarios. Not that he didn't think about them still. Lying wide awake in the middle of the night, imagining in vivid detail all kinds of possible outcomes that led to the two of them being separated. Or worse.

He kept these thoughts to himself though. Daniel already had a hard time recovering from what happened in Nevada, he didn't need any additional weight on his shoulders.

And yet, however bleak Sean imagined their future could get, he never allowed himself to think that one of them would end up dead. The very idea of losing Daniel permanently made Sean's chest ache, and as for himself…

Sean knew Daniel needed him. He had the power, and was strong and brave, but he needed him. They were the Wolf Brothers, and that was that. What kind of brother would Sean be if he just let himself get killed and left Daniel alone?

Well, he is about to find out.

Two weeks passed since he went camping in the canyon with Daniel only to fall through a hole in the rock, and apparently through time and space as well.

Sean didn't believe it at first, naturally. He was convinced everybody in Away was just playing an elaborate prank on him and expected Daniel to burst out of one of the trailers any second to yell 'gotcha!'.

It took Karen's breakdown at the end of that evening and a six-year-old newspaper clipping with a simple headline "Tragedy at the Mexican Border" for him to finally believe that it was all for real. And that in everybody's eyes he essentially came back from the dead.

No wonder Karen barely spoke to him afterwards, even though she stayed close and touched his arm or shoulder every once in a while, probably to make sure he wasn't a ghost.

Others, or at least the ones who knew him before, didn't make a fuss around him and took the fact that he was back in stride, pretty much like they did with Daniel and his power. They may have talked about providence, and the magic caves that warped reality, but Sean was too overwhelmed already to give it any serious consideration yet. They didn't pressure him, for which Sean was grateful, and were happy to update him on the latest news and changes.

Not all of them were good though. Joan passed away three years ago, and even though it was inevitable at some point, for Sean, who literally saw her the day before, it was quite a shock.

Also, it explained why Karen was so subdued when he asked about Joan as if she just went out for a walk and would be back any minute. Sean wondered if she felt the same way about seeing him around, looking exactly like he did six years ago.

Which inevitably brought him to the questions nobody in Away could answer, the ones that were constantly on his mind since he fell into that damned cave.

What happened to Daniel? Where was he? Was he alright? Was he even alive?

Karen's best guess and biggest hope was that he was somewhere in Mexico, free and in good health. But she would never know, since they lost contact completely after the events at the border, after Sean was... after he died.

When he asked her why in all these years she never came looking for Daniel, Karen didn't reply and just looked at him with that hunted heartbroken expression he couldn't bear to see on her face. It made the reality, this new twisted reality, extremely hard to accept.

Sean thinks nothing will make him forget the pictures he saw in that article, one of a ruined entry point with overturned police cars and debris lying around, and the other one of him placed above a short obituary that contained more information about his 'crimes' in those few months on the run than about who he actually was.

It was surreal, nightmarish. It still is. Realising that he somehow both escaped his own death and is now forced to face its consequences. He's not ready at all.

But here he is, in Mexico, driving along the west coast down to Puerto Lobos in a beat up truck that David lent him, with fake passport and drivers license and a bunch of other papers that Harry, a new handy member in their community of recluses, hooked him up with.

Arriving at the border with a new identity and crossing it alone was somehow scarier but easier than he expected. Taking into account, of course, that he had to be formally dead for six years for that to work.

Karen didn't want to let him go, then suggested to come with him, recalling how he had offered it to her himself. But that was in another life, the one where he majorly fucked up and got shot. This time he needs to do it on his own.

He doesn't know what's waiting for him in Puerto Lobos. The chances that Daniel will be there, even if he followed through with their, Sean's plan, are very slim. And yet Sean drives on. Stubborn and desperate. Towards a place he once hoped they could call a new home.

But without Daniel, what would be the point?

––

The moment Sean sees Dad's house, or rather what's left of it, his heart sinks.

Locating it wasn't much trouble, the few locals he came across and asked for directions readily told him where to go. Although, some gave him very strange looks, and one old man even advised him against going anywhere near the area, mumbling something about recent gang fights there. When Sean told him that was where his family used to live, he frowned and didn't say anything else.

Now Sean can guess why he was so unenthusiastic to talk. The house, which was once a two-story building judging by the others scattered along the shore, is nothing more than a carcass, with columns sticking out of the bare foundation like the bones of an animal rotten away in the desert. And it's not the only one, the neighbouring residences are hardly in a better shape.

The whole place looks like it's been dead for a while. Just like Sean's hopes and dreams.

Of course, Daniel's not here. Nothing is.

Except for the ocean.

Sean leaves the car, not bothering to lock it. He couldn't care less about his meagre possessions, and about anything at all.

He walks past the house, avoiding to look at it, and heads straight to the shoreline. There are no tourists, no locals, not a soul around for miles. The wind softly blows through the leaves of the few palm trees nearby and the sound merges with the incessant rustle of waves.

It's peaceful. Unbearably so.

Maybe that's why with each step Sean feels like his heart gains another pound. If he were to enter the water right now, he would certainly sink like a rock.

He stops short of doing just that, and instead drops down to the ground some five feet away from the rolling waves. The sand is silky soft and warm beneath his fingers. It brings him no comfort whatsoever.

What is he going to do now?

Sean doesn't know how long he stays there, watching the water ebb and flow and ignoring the dampness on his right cheek. His eye patch gets uncomfortably soggy but he ignores it too.

The sun is starting to go down when he finally gets up, feeling pins and needles all over his slightly numb legs.

Nothing is keeping him here, so he walks back to the car, without a clear plan in his head but determined to get away as soon as possible.

Then he catches something out of the corner of his eye, propped against the outer wall of the grey foundation. He has to turn his head to see it clearly, and when he does, he stops dead in his tracks.

It's a simple cross, made of two boards nailed together and painted blue. For a moment Sean is reminded of the similar cross he and Daniel made for Mushroom, to remember her by rather than mark a real grave, since the cougar snatched her body away. He takes a step closer and his breath catches in his throat.

There on the wooden board is his name, scribbled in a child's hand, and above it a small 'RIP' that tears right through Sean's aching soul. His vision gets blurry and this time he viciously rubs it away to take in the whole self-made memorial. Each detail only adds to his pain and bone-deep sorrow.

The burned out candles, in narrow glass pillars with Virgin Mary depicted on them, the bunches of dried flowers, stuck in a vase on one side and an empty liquor bottle on the other, the tattered baseball, lying lonesomely on the dirty sand, the eye patch wrapped around the blue board, which is identical to the one Sean's currently wearing, and finally, Dad's lighter, packed in a little zip bag and hung carefully on the cross.

Sean chokes on a sob and falls to his knees.

One thing is seeing an old article in a newspaper, quite another is to stand before an actual place of grief. Imagining Daniel out here, one-on-one with his loss and with no one to share the heavy burden, is worse even than feeling Karen's sad eyes on him, still full of years-old guilt and heartache.

It's just too much.

Suddenly, Sean notices a piece of paper sticking out from beneath one of the glass pillars. He tentatively pulls it out and discovers it's a folded drawing.

A lone wolf, howling at the full moon.

Somehow, this hits Sean where it hurts most and he starts crying quietly, clutching the drawing to his chest.

"Oh, Daniel," he whimpers between sobs.

The tears eventually stop, and for a while Sean just sits there, staring at his name written in smudged black marker and carving the uneven lines into his memory.

He's so engrossed in his gloomy thoughts he doesn't hear footsteps, which are cushioned by the sand, coming from behind.

And then it's too late, because a heavy force suddenly crashes into him, sending him flying on his back. It feels painfully familiar.

Sean whips his head around and sees a tall menacing figure approaching. The features are partially concealed by the shade from the setting sun, but Sean can see it's a teen about his age, maybe older, with bleached hair and tattoos covering his forearms.

And maybe it's the way he moves towards him, confident and unrelenting, or the way he cocks his head a little to the side, and Sean immediately feels the pressure constricting his rib cage.

Sean knows it then.

"Te dije que te largaras." His voice is low and dangerous, but oh so familiar. As well as those blazing brown eyes.

"Enano," Sean gasps out, as he looks up into them.

It's Daniel.

Notes:

Concerning Spanish, Daniel is supposed to be saying 'I told you to get lost', assuming that Sean is one of the thugs who were bothering him last time.

Chapter 3

Notes:

An incredibly soft and powerful art by anvi featuring the brothers' reunion. I love every tiny little bit about it!

Chapter Text

When Sean stirs awake it's still too early in the morning. He can see the bleak grey light streaming in through the window from where he is lying on a mattress on the floor. There is a soft breeze that feels pleasantly cool on his bare legs, since the thin sheet he has for a cover is all bunched up around his stomach. He doesn't mind it, it's too hot anyway, and even his t-shirt seems to generate heat of its own.

But that's not what pulls him out of sleep. It's a light tickling sensation that slides across the side of his face and goes along his throat, finally settling against the spot right above his left collar bone. Against his jugular.

There's a static buzz in the air, and Sean feels Daniel's presence somewhere close beside him. When he rolls on his back though, he's a little startled by the intensity of his brother's gaze.

He's seated at the foot of their 'bed', leaning against the wall, and has his eyes trained on Sean's sprawled out form. The way he watches him, so steadily and closely, gives Sean the impression that he's been at it for a long while.

The tingling on his neck doesn't disappear and Sean covers it with his hand.

"Can't sleep?" he asks. It comes out louder than he intended. Then again, in the sleepy silence of the wee hours anything would.

"You don't even have a scar." Daniel's voice is pensive, and from what Sean can make out of his face he's wearing that deep frown Sean finds so foreign on him.

He knows it's stupid to compare the Daniel he remembers to this new grown up person he has yet to get to know well, but he can't help himself. Because he still sees the ten-year-old boy in him every once in a while. In his little grin that makes the gap between his teeth visible, in the way he slouches when he sits, and the way he pouts when Sean tells him not to stuff himself full of chocolate bars instead of normal food.

"Seriously, enano, how have you survived this long on that junk, and managed to fill out so nicely," he couldn't help teasing Daniel one morning, but regretted it immediately when he didn't smile back and looked away, shrugging his shoulders. Sean felt guilty for the rest of the day.

Kind of like he does now, for some inexplicable reason. As if him not having a physical proof of catching a bullet in his throat makes him a fake. As if he's not the real Sean, but some sort of a cheap stand-in, who is six years late to boot.

Sean sits up and inches closer to Daniel. He might not be the one he saw dying on the border, but he is still his brother.

"No, I don't have a scar," he says, and his voice almost doesn't tremble. "It never happened to me." Looking into Daniel's eyes from this angle would be easier if he didn't avert them when Sean tried to decipher the emotion hidden there. Sean does see his fists clench in his lap though.

He watches Daniel for a moment and then takes one of his hands in his, pulling it up to his neck. He pries open the rigid fingers and presses Daniel's hot palm to his skin, as smooth and unscarred as can be, with his pulse beating strongly and a little too fast right underneath.

"See, nothing's there," he whispers. Daniel's gaze shifts from where it is fixed on the floor to Sean's neck, then to his one eye and back.

He is quiet for a long stretch of time, and Sean is starting to feel a slight strain in his back from leaning into Daniel's space. Then the hand on the side of his neck tentatively slips around and pulls him closer. Sean meets him halfway and wraps his arms around Daniel's tense shoulders, enclosing him in a tight hug.

In the ten days that passed since they met Sean witnessed Daniel having nightmares four times, and each time when he tossed in his sleep he kept mumbling Sean's name and saying 'why' over and over again. It was heartbreaking to realise that he had become the source of Daniel's suffering and there was nothing he could do to change that.

As he holds Daniel close, rocking him a little and stroking his hair in slow soothing motions, Sean thinks of what happened on the beach.

After Sean called Daniel with that stupid nickname he used for as long as he could remember, the pressure on his chest disappeared.

Only to return full force when Daniel stepped closer, eyes narrowed in suspicion and disbelief.

"No," Sean heard him whisper. "It's impossible," he said what Sean himself was thinking for the past two weeks. "You can't be..."

"It's me, Daniel, please, look at me!" talking with Daniel's power weighing him down was a challenge, but Sean was determined. And Daniel listened to him. He sank on the ground right next to Sean's restrained body and peered into his face, studying it frantically in the dimming evening light.

Then he recoiled, and the pressure disappeared for good.

"Sean," Daniel gasped out, staring at him like Karen did. Like he was seeing a ghost. Sean thought that he probably needed to get used to that expression, even if it made him want to scream.

Scream that he was alive. That he never meant to leave them like that. That he was sorry it happened. And that he felt utterly helpless and just as lost as they were as to the reason why and how he came back, or rather teleported to this cruel reality.

"I know this is crazy, but it's really me, enano, I-" Sean sat up and clumsily crawled over to Daniel, who remained right where he fell, not moving and barely breathing. "I came back for you, even if it took me six years." He forced himself to give his brother a little smile then, hoping to get a response from Daniel. His face had turned ashen and looked like he was about to throw up.

"I saw you die." His voice came out broken and he stopped to clear his throat before continuing in that same hollow tone that made Sean sick as well. "I saw you die right in front of me, how can you be-" Sean attempted to take his hand, but Daniel didn't let him, flinching away.

Suddenly he stilled as his gaze fixed on something, and when Sean followed it he saw that he was looking at his right wrist.

There was the band that Lyla gave him when they started high school. He hadn't taken it off since, and it had become as much a part of him as the worn Squad hoodie he'd had on for several months in a row. He even thought at some point that he'd be buried in it.

He wondered if that was exactly what happened after he'd been shot at the border.

Then he noticed Daniel rub at his own right wrist, at a band that was a bit more tattered perhaps but identical still. He let out a shuddering breath and when he looked at Sean next his eyes were filled with tears.

Sean didn't hesitate after that and pulled Daniel into a hug, happy to finally be able to hold his brother again.

Now, ten days later, they are in pretty much the same position, only instead of the cooling sand they sit on the mattress in a small house that stands further away from the beach. It has a single floor with a bathroom and two other rooms, the bedroom where they currently are and the living room slash kitchen.

The house is also full of contrasts. Like, it's situated in a rather shabby neighbourhood, and the inside is barely furnished, resembling a temporary hide-out more than a home, which makes Sean think of the cabin in the woods of Oregon. But then there's a huge flat-screen TV with the latest console in Daniel's bedroom, as well as a pretty badass sound system. A brand new PC sits directly on the floor beside the mattress, and in the farthest corner of the room there is a safe.

When Daniel brought him here, not letting go of his hand the whole way from the beach, Sean asked him about it. He didn't even try to mask his surprise and wanted to know how Daniel managed to buy all those things, and what the safe was for. But all he got was a strained, "Does it really matter?"

Daniel looked so anxious then, as if he saw his own house for the first time and wasn't happy with the way it was.

So Sean didn't push him. Nor did he ask about his blond cropped hair, or the tattoos. The one under his right eye, a single teardrop, made him particularly curious and a bit uneasy. Sean thinks he heard about such tattoos and that they have some specific meaning, but he couldn't remember which one exactly, and was reluctant to ask.

He didn't want to put Daniel through his worst memories again. At least not so soon after they reunited.

Later he found out that Daniel works as a bartender in one of the clubs that are placed strategically close to the hotels and swarm with tourists, especially during the holiday season. There is a chance that it pays well enough for him to afford all the pricey stuff in his room and then some, if the tips are good. And they have to be with the badboy look that Daniel is effortlessly pulling off.

And yet for Sean, no matter how tough and grown up he may appear, Daniel will always remain his little brother.

"Come on, you need to get some sleep, little cub," he says softly, brushing his fingers through Daniel's coarse tangled hair and pulling him down. The mattress is wide enough to comfortably fit them both. "I'm going to be right here."

"Never leave me again," Daniel mumbles somewhere into Sean's collarbone, his breath warm and tickling. "Ever," he adds with a touch of childish stubbornness that gives away how drowsy he already is.

"I won't, enano." Sean places a quick kiss on the top of Daniel's head, like he used to when he himself was ten and Daniel, a tiny adorable toddler at the time, dozed off in his arms.

"I mean it." Daniel's sleepy voice is deep and rough, and it throws Sean back into the present where his brother squeezes his waist in a firm unwavering hold.

"I promise," Sean breathes out. Daniel's body relaxes against his, but his arms stay where they are.

"I won' let anyone take you away, an' if they try, I'll crush 'em," he says so quietly Sean catches it only because they are pressed close.

It's then that Sean first has a feeling that the promise he gave might not be as simple as he thinks.

Chapter 4

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Celebrating his seventeenth birthday seems surreal. And it's not only because he should technically be turning twenty three, or nineteen, according to his fake papers. It's just that after the day Dad got shot in Seattle Sean's existence split into before and after.

Before was a happy sheltered life in a decent suburban neighbourhood, with friends, and parties, and birthdays. After was a life on the run, filled with constant fear for his and his brother's safety, spent in hiding, be it out in the woods or in abandoned shacks and cabins. It had no place even for simple pleasures like indoor plumbing or a bed, or at least not for too long. And his birthday, much like Halloween, or Christmas, or the 4th of July, turned into another holiday he wasn't looking forward to anymore. He just hoped he'd make it until then.

That's why when Sean wakes up on August 15 to find Daniel already up and clattering with something in the kitchen he doesn't immediately put two and two together.

He takes his time in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. When he's done he looks up in the mirror above the sink, which is cracked in the bottom left corner and is missing one screw. The empty hole stares at him enviously, the crack running right across it, and Sean can't help but grin a little as he glances at his reflection and sees a jet black prosthetic nestled comfortably in his left socket.

He's still getting used to it, just like he was getting used to taking care of his eye without Joey's or Mom's help. But no matter how weird it feels putting in something that doesn't look like an eyeball at all, the smooth acrylic shell is definitely better than the battered piraty eye patch and the plastic conformer he's kept inside so far.

A week ago Daniel took him to a guy 'who knows a thing or two about glass eyes and stuff', and Sean wanted to ask how exactly he got to know someone like that but then thought better of it. The place they went to unsurprisingly looked shady as hell and was basically just a separate room inside a tattoo parlour, yet instead of artwork samples the walls were covered with pictures of different body parts, eyes included, often beautifully painted with flowers, saints and fantastic creatures. Only upon closer inspection did Sean realise that they were all prosthetics.

The guy, Manuel (or Manu for friends), who had a shaved head and was tattooed and pierced from top to bottom, greeted Daniel like they were old buddies, which, as Sean later learned, was exactly the case, and he talked to Sean in pretty much the same manner. It was really nice, and made him feel included in his brother's life, even if he still can't wrap his head around some of the things that make up this new, grown-up Daniel.

Like his scars. There is one on his right shoulder from the day they crossed the border, apparently. The day Sean never got to see and that Daniel understandably doesn't want to talk about. But there's also one on his left cheek, and a couple across his abdomen and lower back that Sean first noticed when both of them slept shirtless because of the unbearable summer heat. Daniel didn't tell him much about those either, apart from a gloomy cryptic, "I was still a kid when that happened," followed by an overconfident, "Nothing's ever gonna graze me again."

Sean dropped it then, deciding to save that conversation for another time.

In fact, by now there's a whole bunch of things about Daniel that Sean has yet to get any decent explanation for. His blond hair though is not one of them.

One morning when Sean was waiting for his turn at the sink he caught himself staring at Daniel's long bangs that were framing his face very similar to the way Sean remembered, only the colour was off. Daniel caught him staring too. He rinsed his mouth and splashed water into his face, as if mentally preparing himself for what he said next.

"I did it because-" He could see Sean through the mirror, but wasn't looking at him as he spoke. He was looking at his own face, studying it with a frown. "Because the last couple of years every time I saw my reflection, it looked more and more like you, or Dad sometimes, and I just- I couldn't-" He didn't say anything else after that. Sean didn't need him to. He understood.

But then there are Daniel's tattoos. All reminiscent of death in one way or another, they are a constant reminder of those who he lost and a warning to those who dare cross his path. Sean isn't sure he's ready to hear the story behind each of them.

One particular tattoo, however, Daniel showed him eagerly. It spanned over his left shoulder blade and was fairly fresh the fist time Sean saw it, since the skin around the edges was still a bit red. He recognised the lines before Daniel even said anything and bit his lip hard in a feeble attempt to keep his emotions at bay.

Etched forever in black ink on Daniel's left shoulder blade, sat the lone wolf howling at the full moon. The same one that he left on the beach under the cross with Sean's name.

Daniel noticed his shaken state but didn't look fazed himself, saying, "I'll get another wolf right next to him, his big brother. Actually, you should design it, that'll be so cool."

Sean agreed weakly, even if his heart wasn't in it at all. Daniel's words made him uneasy, and that unease never left him since. And not because of his reluctance to admit that he's too squeamish around needles, but because of how eager Daniel is to put six years of pain and loneliness behind him, to sweep his suffering under the carpet and just be happy to have Sean back. Which could be a good thing, perhaps, if only Sean didn't have a strong feeling that Daniel is still trying to convince himself he simply woke up from an awfully long and realistic nightmare. And that this is not the nightmare itself, and Sean won't disappear once he wakes up.

Suddenly a particularly loud clatter comes from the kitchen, and Daniel's angry sputtering can be clearly heard even through the closed door. It reminds Sean that he should better concentrate on the present, because by the sound of it their humble home is in imminent danger of getting even more run down than it already is. Whatever Daniel is doing there does not seem furniture- or utensil-friendly.

When he enters the living room and has the kitchen area in plain sight he can barely hold back from bursting out laughing.

Daniel, dressed in loose grey sweatpants and a black sleeveless shirt, with hair tousled presumably from running his hands through it in frustration several times, is shuffling awkwardly from the stove to the counter, and both are covered in the aftermath of a huge culinary explosion. Sean can make out some crudely chopped bell peppers that are colourfully strewn across the counter-top and the tiled floor, a couple of squeezed limes that have a downright butchered appearance, and also a mixing bowl that has a very unappetizing thick brown mass in it, which Sean assumes is what their canned beans were reduced to.

Daniel floats a pan with what faintly resembles scrambled eggs up from the floor, but it could just as well be anything else, since it's charred beyond recognition. He has a slight limp as he moves to deposit the pan in the sink, and Sean guesses the clatter he heard must've been him dropping it on his foot. The tap opens on its own and the water gushes out, hitting the pan with so much force it gets everywhere, including Daniel's face. He huffs and spits it out, cursing under his breath, and Sean's shoulders start to shake with stifled laughter.

The variety of ingredients suggests that Daniel started out with one recipe, failed it miserably and moved on to another one. And then, perhaps, another.

"Puta madre," he growls, yanking a towel from the little hook by the stove with his power. Sean grins.

He remembers telling Daniel off whenever he started cursing as a kid, and thought he had succeeded in crushing the bad habit in the bud. Apparently not. Somehow, he doesn't feel too bad about it.

His brother is really not a kid any more, and hasn't been in a long while. Besides, hearing him curse in Spanish makes Sean think back to how he picked up his first swear words from Dad when he dropped a wrench in the garage. And how he shocked him later, firing them out at the dinner table when he dropped a fork.

Daniel is so engrossed in trying to do something with the sorry remains of the breakfast ingredients he doesn't notice him right away, and Sean decides to watch the show a little longer before making his presence known and helping Daniel clean this whole mess.

He is good with his hands when it comes to a lot of things actually, cooking simply doesn't fall into that category. Like, one day when Sean started musing out loud about maybe needing a haircut, Daniel offered to give him a trim (which, in fact, turned out pretty cool). Sean wasn't too enthusiastic about it at first and expressed his doubts with only a tiny bit of humour.

"Relax, it's not gonna be anything like that awful cut Finn gave you at the weed farm," Daniel reassured him, taking the scissors from the bathroom cabinet.

"Yeah, I sure hope not," Sean replied, surrendering under Daniel's impatient gaze, though he couldn't understand for the life of him what his brother was talking about. Those days at the weed farm seemed so far away, as if all the shit that went down there happened in another life. And yet, when Sean thought about it he did vaguely remember Cassidy bugging him about his hair, and offering to stay late by the campfire to get it cut.

But he never did. He refused and went to bed with Daniel instead. He's certain about it too because he remembers how Daniel confided in him about his anger, and fear that he let down everybody he cared about, and how he wanted everything to be back to normal but knew it was impossible. Sean remembers it so well because his brother's emotions back then were the exact same as his own, and he finally realised that they were truly in this together, and not only as a big brother who needs to take care of the little one, but as equals. They were Diaz Lobos, the Wolf Brothers, two against the world, and nothing could separate them.

He was wrong, of course. But maybe him falling six years into the future is the universe's way of making it up to them.

"Sean! You got up already." Daniel freezes with his hand outstretched towards the fridge when he finally catches sight of him. His voice sounds equal parts accusing and mortified. Sean chuckles.

"Yep, and good thing I did, it looks like a war zone here." He shakes his head good-naturedly and strolls to the fridge, hoping they haven't run out of juice. Oh well, he'll have to make a trip to Oxxo today anyway. "Didn't we agree I'm in charge of preparing sustenance here?" he jokes and reaches for the carton. It's half-empty.

"Yeah, but I wanted to do it today, to, you know- Oh, wait." Daniel snatches the juice out of Sean's hand, coming unexpectedly from his blind side. He doesn't have time to say a word about it though, because in the next moment Daniel hands him a mug already filled to the brim. "I made you fresh juice."

Sean blinks down at the mug, then up at Daniel's expectant expression that reminds him of how he used to give him his self-made toys and waited for his reaction.

"Okay?" He takes a sip, careful not to spill the orange juice all over himself by tipping the mug too early. His depth perception already made that happen several times. "Mm, it's really good, thanks," he says, watching Daniel beam at him.

As he drinks, he looks over at the counter and sees a bunch of oranges, or rather what's left of them, lying in a sad pile in the corner, each one practically torn apart. Sean wonders how that amount of fruit added up to a single mug. Then he notices the orange stains drying on the wall and the cupboard.

"Huh, why do I feel like I'm drinking the blood of your enemies?" he asks teasingly, raising a brow.

"What? No way." Daniel pouts and looks abashedly to the side, realising, perhaps, the extent of the mess he made.

"I mean, you really went all out on those oranges, enano." Sean puts the mug on the counter and turns to Daniel, eyeing him more seriously this time. "And everything else, what's this about?"

"I just wanted to make today perfect for you," Daniel admits quietly, obviously disappointed in himself. His hair is still wet from the tap water and it's dripping down his downcast face, making Sean want to pull him into a hug and promise everything will be alright. And maybe he'll do that, after he makes sense of what Daniel is talking about.

"No breakfast in bed won't make it less perfect, you know," he says lightly and grins, hoping to get a grin out of Daniel as well. And he almost succeeds. "But why today of all days?" Daniel's face falls.

"Sean," he starts gravely, and for a second Sean is afraid he forgot about some important anniversary, like the day of their father's death. But it can't be, it's August still- Then it clicks. "It's your birthday."

"Oh," he says after a long pause. It really is his birthday. "Right," he says, to fill the tense silence that hangs in the air. The look Daniel gives him sends a shiver down his spine. He can't put a finger on what exactly it is that he sees in his brother's eyes, but for some reason he feels guilty. Again.

"I- uh, just lost track of time, I think." His excuse sounds weak and kind of helpless. Like he is apologising. And why?

Probably, because he forgot the day Daniel most likely used to spend on the beach, alone, lighting another candle to remember his dead brother.

Sean gulps, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.

Daniel steps into his personal space and his frown gives Sean a wild idea he is about to hit him. Which is absolutely ridiculous, because he only wraps his arms around him in a hug that's just a tad too tight.

"Shut up," he grumbles close to his ear, and Sean huffs out a breathy laugh. "Happy birthday, Sean." Daniel squeezes him even tighter, but Sean doesn't protest and hugs him back. They stand like this for a little while, which is enough for Sean's collar to get damp from Daniel's wet hair though. Then Daniel lets him go, looking a bit sheepish.

"Alright, what else have you got planned for my perfect day?" Sean asks, mostly to lighten the mood. To his surprise, it has immediate effect. Daniel's eyes light up and a grin brightens his serious features.

"Presents!" he exclaims, and even jumps slightly. He throws the towel carelessly on the dirty counter and marches to the ancient sofa that is the only thing that stands in their living room. Sean's hands itch to put the towel where it belongs, but then he thinks, 'What the hell, it's your birthday, dude, live a little,' and follows his brother.

"Presents, as in more than one?" He smiles, seeing Daniel grab something from the cushions and put it behind his back as he faces him. "You'll get me spoiled."

"That's the point." Daniel smiles back then motions with his free hand. "Okay, close your eyes."

"Hah, easy, since I only have to close one." He glimpses Daniel's eye-roll before doing as he asked. There's the sound of movement and Daniel's breathing that gets quicker, like he is nervous.

"Alright, you can look now." And Sean does. Daniel is holding out a thick dark red book that seems to be bound in leather. A very expensive leather too, by the looks of it. Sean reaches for it and takes it into his hands. Like he thought, it really is very smooth.

"Wow, this is amazing." He glances up at Daniel, catching his anxious gaze.

"It's a sketchbook, I thought, since you lost your old one, you'd like to have another," he explains a little haltingly and his eyes get shifty for some reason. Sean doesn't understand why and before he can ask Daniel taps at the book with a finger. "Open it."

Sean raises his eyebrows, amused but also intrigued, and flips the sketchbook open. His eyes widen when he sees what's inside.

"Daniel, what is this?" he says slowly, picking up a gold round necklace that resembles a coin. He holds it up by the thin golden chain, watching it sway. It looks, and feels, too genuine to be an affordable fake. Then again, what does he know about jewellery. It could be gilded or something. Which is still way beyond Daniel's, their budget. Sean frowns.

"I had it made for you, look." Daniel shifts closer and takes the coin in his hand, turning it around so that Sean can see a line engraved into the shiny surface.

'A mi querido hermano Sean' and below it today's date '15-08-2023'.

Sean stares at it, stunned.

"Don't you like it?" Daniel asks in a voice so small Sean feels like a jerk for what he is about to say. But he can't possibly ignore this.

"I- I do." okay, so he opts for damage control first. He needs a minute to get his thoughts together. "It looks expensive though," he starts cautiously, still clinging to a faint hope the necklace is just high-quality junk jewellery. "Too expensive," he adds, watching Daniel closely.

"Yeah, I mean, it's gold, so," Daniel says casually, making Sean choke on air.

"Wh- Are you serious?" He takes a step back, expecting Daniel to laugh at him and admit it was a joke. But he stands his ground and frowns instead.

"Yes, of course I am." he looks at Sean with this heavy calculating expression, like he knows what Sean is thinking and dares him to voice it.

"How did you- Where did you get the money for it?" There, he did it. Because, honestly, no amount of hours working at the bar could leave him with that much spare cash.

"I didn't." Sean gapes at him. "No, listen, I know some people, okay?"

"No, not okay!" Sean starts to pace anxiously back and forth. "What people? What did you have to give in return?"

"Nothing! Jeez, calm down." When Daniel says that Sean realises how agitated he has become. He guesses it's because he has been putting off asking Daniel all these questions about his life in the past six years for too long.

Sean kept persuading himself that he can wait, let his brother adjust to his presence and talk to him one evening when they go to the beach and chill under the palm trees watching the sunset, or some shit like that. But it doesn't mean he hasn't come up with dozens of theories on his own, struggling to fall asleep on their huge mattress alone, waiting for Daniel to return from his long night shifts.

Even visiting the club where he works one evening didn't help to soothe Sean's constant worry. If anything, it only kicked his wild imagination in high gear.

How did Daniel manage to get a job there? What kind of people would employ a sixteen-year-old to work at a night club? And what kind of people did he grow up around to end up-

"I gave away my chain, to have it made into a necklace," Daniel interrupts his train of thought.

"You- what?" Sean has a hard time processing it. "Like, to melt it?"

"Yeah." Daniel keeps his eyes on the floor, and Sean has a momentary suspicion that he is lying, but then he remembers that he really hasn't seen him wear the thick tacky gold thing lately. Sean bites his tongue not to ask him where he got the chain in the first place, even if it made him curious from day one.

"Oh," he says instead. He feels stupid. And ungrateful. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Whatever." Daniel pushes past him and strides heavily into the bedroom.

"Daniel," Sean calls after him, following in his footsteps. He enters just in time to see his brother pull off his shirt and throw it into the pile that grows in the corner until one of them does the laundry. Well, so far it has only been Sean. Daniel has always hated doing the chores.

He stands with his back to Sean, and the wolf tattoo mocks his already guilty conscience.

"Listen, I didn't mean to flip like that, your presents, they're awesome." Sean cringes. He sounds like he's twelve again and tries to convince Dad the new camping gear he got him is exactly what he wanted (even if he wanted a scooter). "Seriously, no one's ever given me anything like this before, and I just..." he ends up trailing off when Daniel turns to him after putting on a white t-shirt with a wolf print.

He watches Sean for a moment, his eyes dark and sharp. He looks like he wants to say something, but then changes his mind and nods.

"I know." He rubs the back of his neck and sighs. "Maybe I went a bit overboard, but I wanted- You know, when you came back I thought I finally went insane and started seeing things."

"Uh, yeah, I would too." Sean smiles sadly. They talked about it before, when Sean explained to Daniel what happened to him in the canyon. But now Daniel seems to be ready to open up a little more about his feelings, and Sean is going to listen.

"Then I thought that it was some big cosmic joke, like, you're back and it's great, but one slip up, and I'll lose you again." Daniel steps closer as he speaks. "And I don't think I'll be able to handle it, not the second time." His hot hands fall on Sean's shoulders and squeeze firmly.

They're the same height now, and Daniel even has an inch, maybe two on Sean. And yet in this moment he looks so small. It doesn't change the fact that the stuff in the room shifts and trembles slightly, seized by his barely suppressed power. Sean doesn't hesitate and grabs Daniel's hands in his, pulling them down.

"Hey," he says softly, meeting Daniel's intense stare head on. "I don't know how it happened, but if the universe brought me here, it gotta mean something, right?" Daniel nods uncertainly. "And it better go fuck itself if it thinks I'll just drop dead a second time."

Daniel laughs, and Sean instantly feels better. The trembling around them stops too.

"Sooo, the festive mood is kinda ruined, but what about going out to grab something to eat?" Sean asks, then adds with a sly grin. "Since the kitchen hasn't survived the wrath of the Superwolf."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad." Daniel shoves him playfully and Sean shoves him back. "And in fact, we've got some other cool stuff to do in the afternoon and later in the evening," he says with a mysterious smile.

"What? But I need to be at the garage at two, you know Jorge, he'll be pissed if I-"

"No, he won't, I told him yesterday that you're taking a day off," Daniel says dismissively, as if Sean's temperamental, often bitchy boss is someone easily persuaded.

"Uh, and he was okay with it?" Excuse Sean if he is skeptical about this.

"He won't be a problem." Daniel walks out of the room and puts on his shoes by the door, expecting Sean to follow him, which he does a bit reluctantly.

A few days after Sean settled into his new life with Daniel in Puerto Lobos, he started thinking about getting a job. By that time he learned the shortest way to the corner store, and the names of the three cashiers that work there, as well as the best time to go chill on the beach not to get sun-burnt or run into a crowd of tourists.

It was also some time after he and Daniel went back to Dad's old house. Not the bare carcass Sean mistook for it when he first arrived, but the dilapidated residence next to it. It lacked a good portion of the wall that was facing the road and looked like most of the roof had caved in. No wonder Daniel didn't live there.

They came to dismantle the sad memorial. Well, Sean was actually the one to do it because even if Daniel watched him work with a neutral detached expression Sean could tell how difficult it was for him to let go of this painful reminder of the past.

Later, when they were sitting on the shore, closer to the lapping waves, Sean told him about his plans.

"Dad always wanted me to learn a trade, and you know, that's something I was thinking to do anyway once we got here, to be able to support us and…," he paused, noticing Daniel grow tense beside him. But he needed him to know and to accept his decision. Sean couldn't keep spending his days at home for the rest of his life, no matter how persistent Daniel was about it, telling him that the money he was making was enough for both of them. Sean wasn't so sure.

"Listen." He picked his words carefully. "I know things didn't turn out that way, but perhaps it's not too late to give it a try?" Daniel wouldn't look at him. Sean refused to give up though. "Like, think about it, I could go and learn stuff about cars at that repair shop down the street, and who knows, if I'm good, maybe we could open our own garage some day, here, at Dad's old house? That'd be a nice way to earn our living, right?"

Daniel stayed silent for a long while and Sean was starting to think that, perhaps, he shouldn't have brought it up so soon. Then Daniel glanced at him and gave him a faint smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you can try, if you want to." Sean grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, thankful. It's no big deal if Daniel doesn't seem too keen on the idea now, he reasoned with himself, it'll definitely grow on him later.

In two days he got the job at Jorge's garage, who agreed to teach him the ropes and even pay him the minimum wage. And if the first week or so he seemed really cautious around Sean, and even more so when Daniel dropped by before going off to work in the evening, Sean supposed it was because he was a new face in town, and with only one functioning eye. The patch did have that effect on some people.

With time Jorge relaxed and revealed his wonderful personality, but it doesn't bother Sean very much. A job is a job, he knew what he was potentially signing up for. Still, skipping a day in the middle of the week makes him kinda nervous. But Daniel seems so confident, Sean decides to go along with it. Just this once.

"Okay, but you've gotta tell me in advance, on a scale from one to ten, how worried should I be about these plans of yours?"

"Oh, you mean, how excited?" Daniel sends him a cheeky grin. Sean chuckles, slipping on the light sneakers he bought on sale. "Twenty, definitely!"

Daniel gets out into the sunlit dirty street and starts walking right away, waving at Sean to hurry.

Maybe celebrating his seventeenth birthday isn't such a bad idea.

Notes:

What Daniel put on Sean's necklace is 'To my beloved brother Sean'.

Chapter 5

Notes:

A wonderful art of the boys in this verse by Ifumi.

Chapter Text

If somebody asked Sean last summer what he imagined himself doing on his next birthday, he probably would've thought of another concert with the crew, and another family dinner with Dad's killer barbecue and Daniel's crafty gifts and silly jokes. Maybe even a party, if Lyla would've managed to talk him into it. She actually kept insisting on it, saying that he needed to socialise and put himself out there more often. And birthdays are the best time to try new things, obviously.

Looking around the decently packed club from his high stool at the bar, Sean couldn't disagree more.

The music is booming in his head, virtually ruining his eardrums, the bright flashing lights cut through the crowd on the dance floor and highlight the scantly dressed girls who move alluringly on several platforms scattered around the place. Even brief glances in their direction make Sean's cheeks burn and his head spin a little from sensory overload.

And he's been here before, that one time when he came to check out the place Daniel worked at, so he knew what it had in store. But he still feels mildly uncomfortable being here longer than those quick fifteen minutes. Besides, last time he didn't have a big glass full of some fancy alcoholic cocktail in front of him. Daniel made it for him specially, and with so much flare Sean couldn't possibly refuse.

He brought him to the club without really saying what he wanted them to do there, so Sean assumed they'd dance a little to some super loud music and then head home. They came in through the main entrance no problem, the bouncer even gave Daniel a little salute and wished them a good time. And while Sean gawked at a lengthy line that they left behind, Daniel pulled him into a hectic mass of people, navigating the club easily in the semi-darkness and finding his way to the bar counter in less than five minutes.

Once there, he hopped over it like it was a fallen tree branch somewhere in the woods and not a place full of fragile glasses and bottles with overly priced contents. Sean was about to start apologising for his recklessness to the guy behind the counter, whose shift it obviously was today, but he only clapped Daniel on the shoulder in greeting and told him something with a big smile, glancing at Sean a couple of times as he spoke.

Before Sean could ask what that was all about Daniel snatched a bottle from one of the shelves behind him, and with how perfectly it fit into his open palm Sean suspected that he used his power to do that. Then, and Sean almost cried out in shock, Daniel dropped it. Or made it seem like he did because the bottle wasn't even halfway to the floor when he caught it with the back of his hand, balancing it there for a couple of seconds before finally grabbing it properly by the neck.

That trick, however, was only the beginning, by the time Daniel finished with all the flips and spins and shakes there was a little crowd watching him, and for a good reason. Daniel was acing each and every move, so that they looked both elaborate and effortless, and totally defying laws of physics with some of them. To the excited club goers it was hopefully just a sign of immense talent and practice, meanwhile Sean couldn't stop worrying that they might suspect something. And yet, he too was impressed. So much so that when Daniel placed a glass on the counter and began clapping, singing Cumpleaños Feliz, and got everybody else to clap and sing with him, Sean barely had time to snap his open mouth shut and take the drink in hand, completely baffled by what just happened.

And who could blame him, really, he only ever saw shows like that in movies and couldn't imagine that he'd witness one up close before he even turned eighteen. So, yeah, by the end of it Sean was overwhelmed, but found himself grinning and feeling a little bit special.

"You didn't tell me you can do so many tricks," he said when the excitement around them died down. Daniel shook his head and gave him a small smile.

"It made for a good surprise though." Then he gestured to the cocktail Sean was holding like it was some sort of trophy. "Try it, I didn't make it too strong, you should like it."

Daniel watched him as he tentatively took the first sip and beamed when Sean took another one with more enthusiasm.

"It's actually pretty good," he admitted. "Thanks, enano."

Sean expected the drink to be extra sweet or watery maybe, but it had a refreshing citrusy flavour and gave his throat a pleasant subtle burn, which was nothing like that of the whiskey Lyla once sneaked from her father's stash and shared with him. For a few moments Sean was really enjoying himself.

His elation was short-lived though because soon Daniel caught sight of some dude in the distance and told Sean to wait for a bit. After that he swiftly went away, leaving Sean all alone at the bar.

So there he sits, sipping at his drink not to stand out from the general crowd and at the same time barely managing to reign in his paranoia that somebody will notice he's too young to be anywhere near alcohol and slap it out of his hand. He tries telling himself that no one gives a shit, but after Daniel made such a show of serving him he feels like there are numerous pairs of eyes watching his every move. There's nothing he wants more than to get out of here as soon as possible.

Would it kill Daniel to hurry up and finish chatting with that shady dude in one of the darker booths at the back already? What could be taking so long anyway?

Sean straightens in his seat in an attempt to see them better, but loses his balance for a second and almost plummets to the floor, grabbing the bar counter in the last moment. His awkward flailing must've looked so stupid, if people weren't staring before they totally are now. Sean doesn't want to raise his head to find out.

Hell, he never felt so out of place in his whole life. If only Lyla was here.

He's been thinking about her more often lately. When he and Daniel were in hiding he still risked giving their location away to call her, twice. And he knew he did the right thing, Lyla was so distressed because of what happened to them she could've easily had a relapse and gone back to clinic with severe depression. He can't imagine what it was like for her to learn about his death at the border.

Sean wishes he could call her and tell her he's alive. But what good will it do if he contacts her after so many years? There are chances that Lyla successfully moved on from the mess that was her friendship with an outlaw, and if he were to pop up out of nowhere all of a sudden, it could only bring her more suffering. Besides, would she even believe him? There are days when Sean doubts the reality of his new life himself.

So he convinces himself that he should let go of his best friend, no matter how hard it may be. It doesn't mean he doesn't miss her terribly. Especially today.

Although Sean has to admit that Daniel really went out of his way to make it as exciting as possible.

They had late breakfast at a nice seafood place in town, the fancier one for wealthy tourists, and Daniel ordered so much they later had to ask the waiter to put the leftovers in a bag to go. Sean wanted to scold him for spending too much money again, but after catching Daniel's tense expression decided against it. If his brother was so adamant about splurging on his birthday, then fine, he can be stingy with their budget every other day of the year. And to be honest, the food was much better than anything he'd be able to cook at home.

After the tasty meal they walked around town without any clear destination for a good hour, during which Daniel told Sean little stories about different places they passed on their way. He kept the mood light and joked all the time, even if most of those stories were centred around his pick-pocketing experience when he was a kid, and how often gullible tourists agreed to help him or his friends only to get robbed in the end. Hearing about that left a sour taste in Sean's mouth. He stayed quiet though, not wanting to get into another argument, but also because he felt responsible for what Daniel had to do to survive here on his own.

He wasn't around when his brother needed him most, so what right did he have to judge him.

Sean walked deep in thought for a while, and that's why when they arrived at a small square in the suburbs that was packed with excited people, half of whom were kids, he looked at Daniel for explanation. Instead of giving him one he grinned with a mischievous glint in his eyes and tugged Sean through the crowd until they reached a make-shift stage with a ring set up on it. It appeared to be hastily built for the occasion and meant to be dismantled once it was over. Sean wondered if it was part of the street fair they passed on their way there and glanced around in confusion.

Then the crowd on the opposite side of the wooden construction parted and two luchadores climbed onto stage and into the ring, greeted by loud screams and ovations. One of them, a mountain of a man clad in black, grey and white, Sean thought looked sort of familiar, and when a referee introduced him as El Cangrejo Furioso, it dawned on him.

He saw him in a picture he found in Daniel's room. It had a puncture hole in it, which suggested that it had been pinned to a wall or maybe a cork board at some point, only Sean couldn't find anything of the kind in the house.

Daniel looked not much older than he was when they parted in the canyon and posed in front of a wrestler who had a champion's belt over his shoulder and a big crab on his black muscle shirt. Sean wasn't really surprised, Daniel whined like it was the end of the world after Dad refused to take him to a lucha libre match that he'd got two tickets for from a customer. He took Sean, despite the fact that he was grounded that week. And it wasn't that Dad didn't want Daniel to see the epic staged fights, he was simply worried he might pick up the colourful language used by the older spectators in abundance (since that was exactly what happened after he first took Sean with him when he was ten). Daniel must've gone as soon as he got the opportunity here.

Which was much sooner than Sean expected. As Daniel explained to him later, El Cangrejo Furioso was the coolest luchador he ever met, and not just because he was a pro and won in practically every fight, but because he was born in Puerto Lobos and came back regularly to visit his family and give free performances to the local folk. Daniel said that he came to his every match since he was eleven and learned a lot from him. He didn't specify what exactly, but after the fight they saw today Sean can guess what his brother meant.

The other luchador , wearing blue, red and white, was the rudo , as it turned out, despite his brighter colour scheme. Sean didn't give it much thought at first, but as the performance unfolded, it became clear that he was posing as a bigoted racist American who was making fun of a hard-working fisherman técnico and insulted him, calling him second sort and ordering him around, until El Cangrejo Furioso took him down and got him in his signature hold, a Boston Crab.

The fight was spectacular, even in the middle of a sunlit dirty square, but also drastically different from the one Sean saw with Dad in Seattle. He isn't sure what struck him most, the brutally blunt racist jabs shouted by the rudo in broken English and repeated by the referee who led the narrative, or the crowd's eagerness to watch him get annihilated and their gleeful cheers when it finally happened. Still, among all the faces that were alight with happiness at the witnessed retribution, Daniel's stood out. It made Sean think that for his brother the display was not solely about entertainment.

Did it give him a sense of reassurance? Or some sort of justification? And for what, the little crimes he committed as a kid to survive, or something else?

The whole experience was definitely invigorating, and Sean shouted and clapped as much as everyone else. But when he looks back on it now he can't get rid of the feeling that he took part in something illegal. And it's stupid really, watching a staged fight is nothing compared to some of the things he and Daniel were forced to do on the run. And yet…

As he was preparing to cross the border in Away, Sean still kept Agent Flores' card tucked between the pages of his sketchbook and was actually considering what she offered him time and again when he was in hospital in California. Justice and safety for Daniel. Which was impossible for Sean already, but was all he ever wanted for his brother. If only he had a foolproof guarantee that Daniel would get everything he needed and wouldn't be run down by the system somewhere along the way, Sean probably would've called her.

Hell, if his plan was doomed from the very beginning and he was destined to die before getting to Mexico either way, perhaps calling her was the only right decision he could've made.

'Like that matters anymore,' Sean thinks bitterly, staring into his half-empty glass. The remains of his drink sparkle in the blinking lights, but the more Sean tries to focus on the rim the more his vision swims. Looks like whatever Daniel mixed for him is starting to work.

Maybe that's exactly what he needs right now, get wasted and forget about his constant worries and regrets.

He brings the glass to his lips and wants to take a big gulp to speed the process up a little, when someone taps him lightly on the shoulder and a voice speaks directly in his ear.

"Hola, cumpleañero, why so lonely?" Sean's hand jerks and he's glad he drank enough, otherwise most of his cocktail would've ended up all over his front. He puts it down and turns to see an impish toothy smile and dark brown eyes that peer into his with a strange scrutinising expression.

"Ynez! I'm just, uh, waiting for Daniel, he's-" He glances to the booth where he saw Daniel last and wants to gesture in that direction, but his brother is not there. "I don't know where he is," he finishes awkwardly and runs his raised hand through his hair instead. Damn, he must look like a total loser.

Ynez chuckles and Sean feels his face burn.

"Elusive as ever, isn't he?" she says lightly, leaning closer not to shout over the music. Sean wants to reply but gets distracted by how nicely her black wavy hair frames her face and how she smells of a peculiar mix of jasmine, motor oil and tobacco. It reminds Sean that he hasn't had a decent smoke in forever. Or at least not since Daniel confiscated his last pack of cigarettes, stating that it was crap and that he'd get him some good shit soon. Now he's starting to suspect that it was just a trick to get him to quit.

"Yeah, he is," Sean finally says, making an effort to keep eye contact out of nerves. But Ynez doesn't seem to mind because she hops on the stool next to his and scoots closer.

"I can keep you company, guapo, ¿qué piensas?" She looks at him with a cheeky smile, and Sean nods mostly on autopilot. God, why is it so hard to act normal around her?

Sean blames their first meeting.

Ynez came to their house a couple of days ago looking for Daniel, only he was still sleeping after his night shift, so Sean answered the door for him, even if he'd explicitly asked him not to do that for some reason.

"Ah, otro Díaz," she said the moment she saw him, making Sean wonder if their family resemblance was really that strong. But he didn't get to ask her that, nor how she knew Daniel, because she reached up and patted him amiably on the cheek, like they'd known each other for ages, then added in English, "If you are anything like your brother, I think we'll make good friends."

The wording sent him for a loop and Sean barely remembered to introduce himself, going for a handshake and getting a hug and a casual kiss on the same cheek. He stood there like a complete fool afterwards, wracking his brain for something to say, all the while debating with himself whether he should invite her in. What if she was Daniel's girlfriend? Or ex-girlfriend? Or just a friend? And how much did she know about his brother? Sean had so many questions he simply couldn't decide how to handle himself around her.

The fact that Ynez was really attractive didn't help either. She had that striking kind of beauty that didn't fit into the standard 'pretty' category, but was rather in the way she held herself. She was relaxed, confident and forthcoming, and Sean found it very appealing. So much, actually, that he instantly got the urge to draw her. And not only once, but as much as it would take to capture who she really was.

Last time he felt something similar was with Finn at the weed farm in Humboldt. He might've led them into a whole lot of trouble, which cost Sean his eye among other things, but Sean occasionally catches himself thinking how things could've gone differently between them. In another reality, perhaps.

There was a lot he didn't get to know about Finn, and probably never would. And there is a lot to learn about Ynez too, he can see that in her eyes. Although he isn't one hundred percent certain he is prepared to make that discovery.

Or that Daniel will let him do it.

That day Sean didn't talk to Ynez for too long because his brother emerged from the bedroom almost immediately after she told Sean her name, as if he sensed her presence or something. And he didn't invite her in. In fact, he looked pissed that she came at all, whereas Ynez visibly perked up when she saw his moody face. He wasn't friendly with her either, ignoring her playful, "¿Por qué no me llamaste?" and leading her further away from the porch.

Sean still has no clue what Daniel discussed with her, he refused to tell him even after she left. But as they spoke quickly and quietly in Spanish Sean noted how tense and irritated he became the more Ynez said. He managed to catch only a few words, among which were her 'mucho más', 'fácil para ti' and 'te necesitamos', and Daniel's angry 'no' which he repeated several times, as well as 'no lo haré' and 'termínala'.

It left Sean puzzled and a tad apprehensive, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions and decided to make Daniel explain it himself. Some time in the future. When Sean finally confronts him about everything else.

But since Ynez is here right now and he isn't, maybe Sean can get some answers from her. If he gathers up the courage to start a proper conversation, that is. Hell, why does he always have to be so shy around new people? Ynez, however, doesn't have this problem.

"How do you like it in Puerto Lobos?" she asks, propping her elbow on the counter and resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"Oh, it's- great, life here is great, the town is nice and, um, especially the ocean, it's easy to get used to," he says and cringes inwardly at how lame that sounds. There's a little nervous tremor in his hands, and he rubs them together discreetly, hoping Ynez won't comment on it. "And you, are you from around here?"

"Sí, nací y crecí aquí." She nods, then reaches for his abandoned drink, picks it up and takes a sip. "Grew up on the streets, like Daniel," she adds, licking her lips and watching Sean's reaction.

Sean shifts, acutely uncomfortable. The nasty grating feeling of guilt that plagues him day in and day out hits with new intensity. He fidgets in his seat and glances around, desperately thinking of a way to change the subject. Perhaps chatting Ynez up wasn't a stellar idea.

"He seems to care a lot about you," she continues, unbothered by Sean's lack of response.

"Uh, yeah, we're, we were very close some time ago," he mumbles, lowering his gaze, and realises he's been tugging at his wristband for a while already. Ynez notices it too and her face changes a little, like she just put two and two together. Sean waits for her next words with bated breath, expecting her to call him out on his bullshit. But she does no such thing.

"Your eye looks wicked," she says. Sean's hand goes up to cover his formerly empty socket out of habit. "How did you lose it exactly?"

Sean stares at her in mild shock, afraid to read too much into that idle question. Because there is no way she knows Daniel well enough to guess that Sean is his dead big brother who just happened to come back to life a month ago. Or is there?

Thankfully, before Sean can work himself into a fit with these assumptions, Daniel comes up to them and zeroes in on Ynez right away.

"¿Por qué estás aquí?" he asks harshly without preamble, but Ynez takes it in stride.

"Sabes por qué," she shoots back with a sly grin, then hops off the stool. And the funny thing is, upright she stands no taller than Daniel's shoulder, but that doesn't make her seem smaller in the slightest. On the contrary, her blazing eyes alone turn her into an unstoppable force of nature that demands to be reckoned with.

For better or for worse, Daniel is absolutely the same, and they stare each other down, both stubborn and unyielding.

Sean stands up too then, sensing he might need to interfere. Only when he does Ynez takes his arm and pulls him into her side.

"You see, Daniel, me and, tu querido hermano Sean," she begins slowly, stretching the vowels, "were just talking about the wonderful life in Puerto Lobos." Her mouth forms into a smirk and her tone borders on being mocking. "But you two must've been out of touch for a bit, and Sean missed all the real fun." Ynez pats him on the chest as she says that, but her eyes never leave Daniel's face, which turns suspiciously blank.

"What do you mean?" Sean glances between them. "What fun?" he asks, genuinely wanting to know. In a different context their weird stand-off could be an ex-lovers' quarrel, but something about it doesn't seem right. And Daniel's general discomfort suggests that it's something serious.

"It's nothing," he grumbles and attempts to grab Ynez by the elbow, but she effectively slips away from his hand.

"Oh, don't say that, I'm sure Sean would like to know." She smiles sweetly, which gets Daniel positively seething.

"I'm warning you, Ynez, drop it," he says, and Sean thinks he sees the tell-tale rippling in the air around him. Shit, he can't be seriously using his power in the middle of a club. Sean takes a step towards him, but Ynez is faster.

"It's up to you, cariño," she chirps, and before Sean can do anything leans into Daniel's space and ruffles his hair, completely oblivious to the imminent danger.

Sean's hands grow cold and clammy. His heart beats loudly in his chest and he's mentally preparing himself to take his brother and run in case everything goes to hell. Again.

But nothing happens. All they do is talk some more, exchanging phrases Sean cannot hear through the loud music. Eventually Daniel barks 'Fine!' and lets Ynez scribble something on his palm. Sean concludes that they managed to reach an agreement, whatever it was about, and makes a mental note to find out, one way or another.

With their mysterious conversation finished, Ynez looks satisfied and ready to take off. Before going, however, she holds out a hand and stares at Daniel expectantly until he jerks his shoulder in annoyance and slaps something into it. Sean catches Daniel's eyes in silent question, but he shakes his head in what Sean interprets as an I'll-tell-you-later gesture.

If that's not sketchy as hell, Sean doesn't know what is.

He stays focused on Daniel, not quite convinced he won't slip and blow up the whole place, and completely misses how Ynez approaches him until her fingers hook into the collar of his shirt and pull him down.

"I have a little gift for you," she says, staring into his only seeing eye. Sean is so baffled by their proximity he doesn't register the movement of her other hand that swiftly brings something to her mouth.

And then she's kissing him. The first contact of their lips is electrifying and Sean gasps in surprise, which gives Ynez more room for action. She deepens the kiss with practiced ease, pulling Sean closer still, and he struggles to keep up. But he doesn't really have time to freak about being blatantly inexperienced compared to her or doing something wrong, because it ends as abruptly as it started when Ynez pulls away with an oddly triumphant smirk.

"Feliz cumpleaños," she tells him, turns on her heel and disappears in the crowd, as if everything that just happened was a figment of Sean's imagination.

He didn't even get to say thanks.

"She's always such a pain in the ass," Daniel speaks up and Sean needs to fully turn his head to see him glaring after her. He wants to say that meeting Ynez wasn't too bad, and that he might actually kinda like her. He touches his lips with the tips of his fingers and swallows, hoping to savour the taste of his first serious kiss (the smooches he had with Ashley in fourth grade totally don't count).

That's when he feels something catch on the back of his throat, chokes on it lightly, coughs and swallows again, trying to dislodge it. Daniel pats him on the back and studies him with a hint of concern.

"You okay?" he asks. Sean frowns.

"Yeah, I-" He pauses to clear his throat and says what first comes to mind. "I think I swallowed something."

Daniel freezes for a second or two, registering his words. Then his eyes darken and his expression turns livid.

"That fucking bitch!" he growls. The bottles on the shelves rattle shortly, but their helpless clinking gets drowned in the booming beat. "She gave you acid." He takes Sean's hand into a vice grip and pulls him towards the staff room.

"What? What are you-" Sean staggers on his feet and makes them stop half way there. "Daniel, wait! How do you know that?" He shouts over the music and also because Daniel's unceremonious behaviour is starting to piss him off.

They stand right by the dance floor, and their stiff not-dancing bodies are definitely going to draw unwanted attention towards them soon. So Sean shoves Daniel into the closest empty booth. He doesn't offer Sean any immediate explanation, but the angry tension in his shoulders and his shifty guilty eyes tell him enough.

"Daniel, what the hell, man?" he says in a tone that hopefully translates into 'Don't even try to lie to me, enano'.

"I gave her a few tabs just now, okay?" he admits, avoiding Sean's disbelieving gaze. "But it's not what you think, I promise!" he adds hastily, but the damage's been done.

Sean rubs his hands over his face in exasperation.

"Then what is it? Tell me." Daniel is sitting across the table and Sean leans over it, inviting him to do the same. He complies with reluctance. "And you better hurry up before I start hallucinating shit." Sean means it as a joke, but it falls flat as Daniel's scowl only deepens.

"You won't," he grumbles, picking at his nails. "Well, not exactly."

"Wow, that's reassuring," Sean huffs out sarcastically. Daniel flinches like he's been slapped, and he instantly feels bad. The sentiment grows with what Daniel says next.

"Look, I only wanted to hook you up with some weed, so you could, I don't know, relax and chill from time to time." He reaches into his pocket and a second later shows a little plastic bag with familiar dried up buds, Sean would recognise those anywhere. And he can bet club security would too.

"Dude, are you insane, put it away!" He looks around in panic. Daniel only shrugs.

"Nobody gives a fuck around here." He petulantly crosses his arms over his chest.

"I do, dammit, you're only sixteen!" Sean snaps.

"Yeah, and you weren't much older when you started smoking," Daniel fires back. He actually has a point, but Sean isn't about to say that aloud. "I thought we could get high together back home, if you wanted, and bought a blotter in case you'd like to try it out too," he says, finally taking the grass off the table.

"Have you?" Sean asks, looking his brother straight in the eyes. Daniel nods, and Sean's heart thumps in his throat. He gets a little light-headed and wonders if it's the residual effect of the alcohol he consumed not so long ago, or just plain old anxiety.

His baby brother tripped on acid earlier than he did. How crazy is that? And what other stuff did he get to try that Sean didn't? Then again, does he really, honestly want to know? He barely sleeps as is.

Daniel takes his lengthy gloomy silence in his own way and reaches over the tabletop to grab his hand.

"Hey, it's not so bad when you have good company and nice setting," he says. The corners of his lips lift in a small pleading smile. Sean sighs. Maybe he shouldn't fight it, since it's already happening. "If we leave now we'll probably be home before it hits you," Daniel continues and seeing Sean's troubled frown adds, "Or you could drink a glass of tap water and you might not trip at all."

Sean blinks at that, slightly taken aback by Daniel's profound knowledge on how LSD works. Jeez, how many times has he done it? This time around the thought makes Sean feel something that resembles envy more than anything else. And it's both nonsensical and so sharp Sean gets lost in it for a moment.

Suddenly there's a guy at their booth, whose arrival Sean doesn't notice because he comes up from his blind side. So when a deep voice booms above them, carrying over the loud music, he jumps a little in his seat.

"Can I get you something?"

It's a waiter, whose face splits into a grin once he catches sight of Daniel and the two exchange a fist bump and a quick side hug. He glances at Sean next, introduces himself as Bruno and does a silly little bow, wishing him a happy birthday and saying that he'll be glad to service him. Sean's cheeks heat up and he wonders if he used that turn of phrase on purpose. Although the way his pretty dark eyes with long fluffy lashes give Sean an appreciative once-over speaks volumes.

"Don't bother, man, we're leaving." Daniel waves at him dismissively and starts to stand up. He tugs at Sean's hand that he's still clasping in his, like he's afraid Sean might drop out of reality any second and needs him as some sort of lifeline.

Bruno smirks at the display, slow and understanding, and Sean tenses. Like hell he's going to leave now. He rips his hand out and settles back down, ignoring Daniel's startled gaze. Then he turns to Bruno and orders two margaritas, because that's the only cocktail name he remembers at short notice. Bruno chuckles, watching him with open amusement, promises the drinks will be right up and leaves for the bar.

"What are you doing, Sean?" Daniel's glare screams of betrayal. It reminds Sean of how he would pout at him every time something didn't go his way when he was little. But isn't it Sean's birthday today? Doesn't he get to do what he wants for once?

"I want to have some fun," he says firmly, daring Daniel to refuse him. "And try new things because-" You tried them before me floats in his mind, but he brushes it aside. "Because birthdays are the best time to try something new."

Daniel studies him skeptically for a bit, then shakes his head and accepts defeat.

"Fine, but I'll be with you every step of the way," he says with enough seriousness to kick some sense back into Sean and remind him that he's about to go on the first acid trip in his life. Which might not be as much about fun and games as he thinks. Perhaps they really should head home before it gets too late…

But then their drinks arrive and Sean decides, 'Fuck it.'

He downs his margarita super fast, hiding how his lips twist at the disgusting taste behind the glass, and then stands up impulsively.

"I wanna dance!" he shouts to Daniel, who fumbles out of his seat and hurries after him before he can lose him in the crowd.

The music doesn't seem as loud and tasteless anymore, and the lights lure Sean to the dance floor like friendly cheery beacons. He forgets his hate of being around so many wasted and possibly high people. He's one of them now, and he goes with the flow.

True to his word, Daniel stays close while he's at it, dancing, or rather jumping and flailing his arms around, like he did all those months, years ago in the motel room in Oregon.

Sean is not an idiot. He knows Daniel is hiding something from him, something big that can easily ruin the semblance of a normal life they have painstakingly built in the last month. And it may be a terrible, selfish decision, but Sean chooses to stay oblivious for a little while longer. So that he can enjoy this, and spend a nice night out with his brother free of nagging conscience and ever-present guilt.

He persuades himself that there is nothing wrong in letting Daniel play the role of the responsible sibling for once. He isn't nine, he doesn't need Sean's protection and guidance like he used to. He can protect himself no problem, both of them. Sean is sure of it, and that's why on the dance floor he lets go of his usual inhibitions and loses himself to the music.

Several minutes pass, or maybe several eternities, when the drug kicks in.

Sean doesn't take it for what it is at first, only realises that the way some beams scatter across the high sloping ceiling is absolutely mesmerising. He can't get enough of the swaying multicoloured patches on the blank monochromatic walls, whereas the dancing bodies around them gain thousands of tiny details that should be impossible for him to discern under such hectic lighting.

His depth perception, whacked as it is, goes totally haywire and Sean stretches out his arms, afraid he'll run into every moving and static object if he takes a step in any direction. Then he feels Daniel's hands on his shoulders. But his brother is not in front of him, he's standing behind. As if space isn't confusing enough already. And the music gets almost impossibly loud, it seeps into his head and doesn't leave room for anything else.

"Hey, I got you, breathe." Daniel's voice speaks in his left ear, bodiless, and Sean starts to turn his head in that direction, wanting, no, needing to see him. Only he forgets that he's missing his left eye and the movement gives him an unpleasant crick in the neck, but no sight of Daniel. "I'm right here, let's get somewhere less crowded," he says and carefully maneuvers Sean around numerous shaking, swinging, jerking obstacles, moving him away from the speakers, until they are in a secluded nook in the farthest corner of the club.

And what an enormous, unbelievably humongous club it is. Sean stares across at the bar, trying to guess which of the stools he was recently occupying, but it appears to be so far away it'd probably take him hours to get back there from where they currently are. The thought makes Sean's head spin and his stomach turn.

"Shut your eyes for a bit, it'll help." Daniel's hands are now gripping his forearms and don't let him fall when he trips himself on some piece of clothing left here by accident. Or maybe on purpose. Or maybe it's not clothing at all but part of interior design and he just ruined someone's hard work. Damn. "Come on, Sean, shut your eyes," Daniel insists and Sean does as he says.

Daniel is standing so close he can lean back into him and settle his dizzy head on his shoulder. And Daniel is a good little brother, who's conveniently not little anymore, and he doesn't mind that Sean uses him as a headrest at the moment. And why should he? Sean's done so much for him, surely he can put up with this in return.

He feels Daniel chuckle more than he hears him and doesn't realise he's been saying all that out loud.

Sean doesn't know how long they stand like that, and honestly doesn't care, listening to the songs change and blend into one another and swaying lazily to the beat. Daniel holds him through it without a single complaint, then the music switches once again, and a slow deep bass reverberates through Sean's whole body. Intrigued by a sensual wave that washes over him, strong and almost palpable, Sean risks and cracks his good eye open.

What greets him takes his breath away.

The whole club looks alive and moving, and it's not just the tipsy jolly visitors and the overzealous go-go girls, but, like, everything. The sharp edges of the raised platforms, neon-blue and quivering, the fake-leather of the backs of numerous booths, flaming red and bristling, the undulating rays of artificial light, unabashedly brilliant and inconsistent, changing shape and colour of their own accord.

Sean takes it all in, entranced. Music pulses in his ears, his head, his chest and in his stomach, weighing him down, anchoring him in this sea of ceaseless movement. Much like Daniel's firm heat behind him. Sean reaches back and his hand lands somewhere on Daniel's upper arm. He squeezes it hard to make sure his brother is really there and not going to dissolve and melt away like the rest of his surroundings.

Daniel jumps a little at the contact and pokes Sean lightly in the side.

"Alive and kicking again, huh?" His tone is soft and teasing and Sean wants to say something of the kind, but gets distracted when Daniel's hand comes to take his and Sean notices the identical bands on their wrists. They stand out sharply against their skin, sitting right across their pulse points, and if Sean concentrates hard enough he can swear he hears blood rushing through their veins. Blood that's one and the same.

"Daniel," he calls, but his voice sinks into the thick syrupy air filled with sounds to the brim. Sean shivers and feels panic budding inside.

"Hey, Sean, check this out." Daniel grabs his attention by wiggling his fingers and Sean registers what he's doing with a few seconds delay.

Daniel still holds his hand tightly, keeping their fingers intertwined, and together they look like one uninterrupted ball of appendages, which is pretty disturbing at first glance, but then Sean distinguishes Daniel's fingers from his own and notices how the hostile air begins to twist and dissipate around them, turning thin and pearlescent. It's so fascinating Sean can't tear his gaze away.

"Wow," he breathes out and turns Daniel's hand this way and that. The liquid glowing energy spills over their joined palms and slowly spreads down Daniel's arm and further down his body, accumulating around them and raising minute specs of dust off the floor, which soon become part of a shimmery force field. Sean has never seen anything like it before.

No, that's not right, he has, but he could not actually see it, until now. Daniel's power.

It spreads above them, enclosing them inside a kind of a pulsating dome that separates them from the rest of the club and the unsuspecting people. The all-penetrating music gets muffled and Sean is overcome with a pleasant sense of calm.

"See, nothing's gonna get us here," Daniel speaks quietly but Sean hears each syllable with perfect clarity. Curiosity pushes him forward and he touches the normally invisible wall. It's warm and alive under his fingers. Because it's part of his brother. "As long as you're with me, nothing's gonna harm you."

Sean turns around to see Daniel's face and awe blooms hotly in his chest.

Here he is, his baby brother, his little cub, the one who has unwittingly become the centre of his universe, has given him new purpose in life after the nightmare in Seattle. Catching his own reflection in Daniel's warm smiling eyes, Sean knows that all the suffering he endured to keep him safe was not for nothing. It floods his heart with happiness, and he feels so exhilarated he forgets how to breathe.

"You said you wanted to have some fun?" Daniel suddenly asks with a little grin. Sean nods dumbly, hanging on his every word. Daniel turns him back to the crowded dance floor and drops the shield, letting the music rush in. His hands still hold the shifting living force around them and when he lifts one up, aiming towards the ceiling, Sean can track its course. "How about this?"

One of the large strobes fixed above trembles and goes for a wild spin, taking the bright flashing light with it on a rogue trip. Shortly after comes a loud indignant squeal of a go-go girl who was left in the dark as a result. Sean bursts into giggles despite himself. Daniel snorts and nudges him playfully in the ribs.

"Your turn, pick a target," he says, leaning over Sean's right shoulder, and winks to encourage him.

And normally Sean would hesitate, would outright refuse to use Daniel's power for something as silly as this. But not today.

Today he picks a pile of empty crates that have been laid out artfully along the opposite wall, to create a warehouse entourage most likely. Daniel concentrates on them and Sean feels a short tickling rush of energy beside him. In the next moment the crates topple over like a bunch of building blocks. People who stand closest to them scream and scram not to get hit or blamed for the mess. Daniel laughs, and Sean joins him.

Then Daniel claps him on the back, saying, "That was awesome, dude, let's amp it up," and reaches out for a waiter who walks briskly with a tray full of glasses towards a booth in the back.

Sean wants to stop him, or, to be more exact, should want to stop him. Yet he doesn't. He just stares at the newly found victim with morbid curiosity that comes out of nowhere, and certainly has nothing to do with the fact that the booth is occupied by a group of loud American tourists.

Sean blinks and sees how the tray gets seized by Daniel's power and clatters right on top of the boisterous company. People fly out of their seats, and their wobbling, flapping limbs go all over the place.

Among them Sean spots a familiar face. Okay, half of it, since the rest is hidden behind thick dreadlocks. But Sean is still convinced it's him. It can't be anyone else. Finn.

It's Finn, his madly pounding heart yells, urging him to cross the distance that separates them so unfairly.

So Sean acts, following his heart. He breaks away from Daniel's hold with determination and plunges recklessly into a mass of squirming bodies to take a shortcut.

He doesn't get very far when Daniel roughly grabs his shoulder and spins him around, which actually saves him from running into a dancing couple. It also makes him lose sight of Finn and the others. He glares at Daniel's sternly furrowed brows. The expression doesn't fit him one bit.

"Don't run away like that!" he shouts through the music, and his shaggy bleached hair seems to amplify the effect of wrongness that Sean feels from looking at him.

"No, I gotta get to Finn," he tries to explain, finding his tongue weirdly uncooperative, but persists in getting his point across. "It's him, right there, Finn, you remember Finn? I wanna talk to him!" he raises his voice, realising that the problem might be that Daniel simply can't hear him well.

Daniel's frown deepens and it transforms his whole face, which gets sharper and somewhat hostile. The teardrop under his right eye trembles, as if about to roll down his cheek.

"It's not Finn," he says, leaning closer, and Sean involuntary jerks away. His proximity, so reassuring and calming just a couple of minutes ago, becomes oppressive. His grip tightens and gets a bit painful. "Come on, we're going home."

"No, let go, it's him, it's-" Sean attempts to shake him off but he's too sluggish.

"It's not!" Daniel snarls. "He can't be here, or anywhere, you understand?" He gets hold of Sean's other shoulder and pins him down with his prickly gaze.

The longer Sean stares at him the clearer he sees that Daniel, this Daniel, might not be who Sean believes he is.

It hits him with the force of a speeding freight train, one of those he and Daniel, the real Daniel, used to hop to go south. The thought promptly takes root in Sean's brain, grows and ripens, spawning a crazy, but oh so evident conclusion.

"You're not my brother," he says.

The fake Daniel's grip weakens for all but a second and his face shifts, growing concerned but not surprised, which gives Sean a childish desire to cry, 'Aha, got you!' while sticking his tongue out. He doesn't get the chance to do that because Daniel starts pulling him through the crowd, basically manhandling him towards the fire exit.

But Sean doesn't want to go anywhere with him, because this- this stranger is not Daniel. It hammers in his overactive mind and makes him fight not-Daniel's hold. He pushes and shoves him as best he can, although all of his struggles prove to be fruitless. Specifically, when they reach the doors and Sean refuses to go through them, the Daniel lookalike uses his treacherous power to immobilise him and force him outside.

Sean's heart is racing by this point and he's panting like a rabid dog that's about to be shot. The soothing, "It's okay, calm down, you're safe, you need fresh air, come on, you're alright," do not make Sean feel any better.

As they make a short trip from the club to the dark deserted shoreline Sean can't break away from this impostor posing as his little brother, even if he tries really hard several times. The heavy restricting power refuses to let him go.

However, when they arrive at the patch of the beach that's less attractive to the tourists because of a far rockier shore, and settle down on a large boulder which is still warm from the day's extreme heat, Sean remembers that the only impostor here is him.

He came here after emerging from a mysterious cave, he gave this Daniel hope and a false impression that his brother, his Sean, rose from the dead. Right, just like that. But that's impossible. Absolutely nuts, every decent scientist would say so. That's why it means-

"I should be dead," he interrupts Daniel mid-sentence and only then realises that he was speaking. Sean didn't hear a word, but he doesn't repeat himself. Instead he looks at him with a stunned unsettled grimace.

"What- Don't even say that!" His hot palm falls on Sean's back, and Sean imagines it burning right through the fabric and through his skin. He turns to face him fully.

"No, listen, it finally makes sense." He needs Daniel to see it too. "I must've hit my head real hard in that cave and passed out, maybe even fell into a coma, and nobody ever found me, so then, eventually, I died," he speaks quickly, feverishly, knowing that if he stalls the truth about this crazy situation will simply slip away.

"Sean, please, that's-"

"No, I'm telling you, that's just what it is, cause shit like time travel doesn't exist, it doesn't-" He stands up and begins to pace, dragging his feet in the damp doughy sand. "So this," he throws his arm out and almost topples over with momentum, but the invisible force doesn't let him. "All this is not reality, no, I get it now, it is my personal hell."

The well-lit hotel complex is far in the distance and Sean mostly guesses Daniel's features in the dim light. He looks upset. No, worse than that. Devastated. He stands up too but doesn't move.

"Sean, why are you saying this?" His voice trembles. It makes him sound like the little scared boy he was when he learned about their father's death. Sean wants to take him in his arms again. But what would be the point? There's no changing the past. This is the future he created for his brother once he decided to take a swing at their shitty neighbour.

"Seeing you like this, knowing you grew up alone, on the streets, knowing I let you down, you and Dad, that I failed both of you, it just-" His breath hitches and Sean swallows thickly as his vision gets blurry. "It's killing me, over and over again. And that's how I know this must be my punishment."

By the time Sean finishes he's absolutely drained. He sways and wishes he could lie down for a bit, be it on this very rock. Before he can do that Daniel pulls him into his chest and easily supports his dead weight.

Their roles really got reversed, Sean notes absent-mindedly.

Then he starts sobbing.

"Shh, don't, please, don't cry," Daniel says, guiding him to sit back down on the flat rock. Sean goes along with it, feeling weak and boneless all of a sudden, and like he is a breath away from vanishing altogether. But Daniel keeps reminding him that it's not going to happen. And Sean's disappointed, but also relieved. "You never let anyone down, not you, you're the best person I know," Daniel whispers, his voice barely raising above the murmur of the waves. "You did everything right, Dad would be proud of you, and I," he halts, takes a deep breath, then continues, "It's a miracle that you returned to me, and I won't let you regret it."

There is a certain weight in Daniel's words, which overrides the suffocating pressure of Sean's fatalistic thoughts. They sit in silence for a while and Sean gradually regains his mental balance, at least to some extent.

Also he becomes very hungry. Like, so hungry he debates checking if the shells that lie around them would be salty to the taste since they've been marinating in the ocean for so long. He reaches for one and gets it transported into his hand with Daniel's telekinetic help. When he's about to take a bite though, Daniel slaps it out with an incredulous yelp.

"Dude, what were you thinking?" he laughs. The sound is so refreshing it returns Sean to the relaxed elated state he was in at the club.

The rest of the night goes without incidents, which is a huge win, considering Sean's condition.

Daniel buys him a ton of junk food at a local joint, that's thankfully open despite the late hour, and although Sean doesn't eat much in the end, it's still quite an experience. Who could've thought munching through a bag of Doritos could be so mind blowing. It's like he learns how to work his jaws all over again, and that his taste buds are on steroids.

After several more pit stops that Sean makes to gaze up at the stars that are almost as beautiful here as they were in Arizona, they get home perfectly safe.

Sean doesn't protest when Daniel supervises him as he gets ready for bed, and makes sure he's settled comfortably on the mattress. Sean's eyelids are heavy and he doesn't fight the drowsiness that crawls over him like a friendly fluffy blanket. He closes his eyes for a second, and immediately falls asleep.

That's why he doesn't see Daniel getting changed and packing a light duffle bag to leave the house later in the night. When the time comes Daniel checks the door and all the windows, glances at the scribbled address on his palm and goes away.

–

The next day Sean wakes up closer to noon and finds his brother lying beside him, snoring softly and pretty much dead to the world. Sean lets him sleep, but can't resist the impulse to ruffle his tangled messy locks.

The hair feels sort of dusty, but Sean thinks it must be the sand from their last night on the beach and shrugs it off, dragging himself up and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

The battered bag, covered in the same sheen of grey concrete dust, lies in the corner of the room unnoticed.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Huge thanks to liv amara for looking through all the Spanish lines in the fic and helping me reformulate some of them better!

Chapter Text

Looking back on the last two months, Sean realises that he should've seen it coming. Should've noticed the signs that were at times practically glaring him in the face.

Daniel's shady acquaintances that kept popping up every so often, reminding Sean that his brother has had six years worth of life without him, out in the streets and hell knows where else. His lengthy night shifts at the club and an inexplicably large income that let him stuff their house with the fanciest pricey things. The house itself that was otherwise bare and utilitarian and still resembled a lair of some sort. And the freaking safe in their bedroom that was a lot like the one Finn had convinced Daniel to break into.

He should've said something about it, should've talked to Daniel while he could. But no, he foolishly chose to ignore it all, chasing the illusion of a life where he was allowed to finally forget his fears and stop running from invisible yet ever present dangers.

To think, even for a moment, that such a life was a possibility was naive and really stupid of him. And now Sean is paying the price.

Shoved none too gently in the back, he stumbles through the mess on their living room floor, passing the old couch that stands gutted and spilling dirty chunks of foam rubber all over the place. The kitchen area is also wrecked, with cupboards thrown wide open and their contents lying haphazardly on the counter and the cheap linoleum below. The bedroom is much worse though, Daniel's PC, console and speakers left in a pile of broken plastic, the TV smashed beyond recognition and the mattress cut up and torn almost in half.

The only thing still intact there is the goddamned safe.

'Daniel will definitely freak when he gets back,' goes through Sean's muddled mind as he sneaks one last glance behind his shoulder, stalling. Which proves to be a mistake and earns him a painful slap to the back of the head.

"Apúrate, carajo," a gruff voice growls beside him and Sean hurries to comply, even as his vision darkens for a second. He doesn't let it show and strides forward, forcing his heavy legs to move. Staying upright is a challenge in itself and when he walks the world before him spins. His head pounds, mostly from the strong blow he received earlier, and the sound seems somewhat echoey in his left ear.

Once he reaches the threshold he stops and heaves for breath, then, feeling the hard barrel of a gun jabbing him between the shoulder blades, steps outside.

The sun has already set and the street has plunged into a bleak bluish-grey light that gives it a quiet deserted stillness. Sean considers screaming for help, but quickly dismisses the idea. There isn't a soul in sight and he doubts anyone would come rushing out in case he tries.

Besides, the fact that there are no cars, nor people in the vicinity despite the usually pretty busy hour cannot be a coincidence. And in his current state Sean would rather not risk angering his attackers any further by attempting to escape. They showed him what they are capable of and getting another demonstration isn't something Sean is looking forward to.

A strong push makes Sean lose his footing and jostles his uncomfortably twisted arms. They are held behind his back with a zip-tie that's wrapped around his wrists so tight it cuts off blood circulation in his hands and leaves them limp and unresponsive. Normally it would be a cause for concern, but right now Sean is grateful for the loss of sensitivity since the dull pulsing ache in his two broken fingers has been driving him mad.

"Ándale." The second guy, the bulkier of the two, begins dragging him by the elbow and Sean nearly bites through his lip to stifle a cry. He won't give them the satisfaction of knowing just how much he's hurting.

Blood from his split lip runs down his chin and leaves a tangy metallic taste in his mouth. His jaw is throbbing too and when he tentatively presses his tongue against his teeth he finds that one molar is loose. Fucking great. Sean spits bloody saliva onto the dirty driveway, looks up and goes rigid with the realisation.

In front of him is the black car he saw parked across the street when he came home. They are going to take him away. And he has no means to let Daniel know.

Today Jorge kept him occupied until the closing hour and after that Sean went to the corner store to get the groceries, so he didn't expect to catch Daniel before he left for his night shift. What he didn't expect either was to find the front door unlocked, and made the idiotic decision to enter, thinking that perhaps Daniel hadn't left yet. He was wrong.

Someone was inside, but they weren't his brother. They were looking for him, but found Sean instead. What happened next came by in a blur of fear, confusion and pain. All Sean managed to gather in between hits from their fast speech sprinkled with profanities was that Daniel took something from them and that they came to take it back, with interest. They'd searched through the rooms before Sean arrived and demanded that he open the safe. The only catch was, Sean didn't know the code.

In the two months that they lived together Daniel never told him. Even when Sean asked outright what was in there he refused to show him, saying, "It's nothing, it doesn't matter anymore," which is ridiculous as far as excuses go, but Sean, being the considerate moron that he was, decided to accept it and ask Daniel again later.

Now he isn't so sure they'll have a 'later'.

The mobsters, who Sean suspects they are judging by their guns, tattoos and predatory gleam in their eyes, predictably didn't believe him when he said he wouldn't be able to open the safe even if he wanted to. The leaner guy, whose arms, neck and face were crammed with cringy ink designs, said he had ten attempts to get the code right. Sean didn't need to wonder about that precise number because he grabbed Sean's right hand a moment later as his bulky friend kept him in place with a chokehold.

Sean failed two attempts and was drenched with cold sweat and trembling when one of their phones rang. He didn't listen to the conversation and just sagged in exhaustion, dazed from the aftershocks of pain and the suffocating sense of dread that festered in his chest.

It was worse than the beating he got at that crazy church cult in Nevada. This time Daniel wasn't mere feet away, he wouldn't be able to stop these freaks if they went too far.

And unlike Lisbeth's brain-washed lapdog they wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

It turned out, however, that their boss, or whoever they took orders from, had other plans. After the lanky mobster finished the call he told the bulky one to tie him up, and Sean was too scared to ask what they intended to do with him. He got his answer when his hands were shoved into a zip-tie and his phone was crushed under the heel of a sturdy boot.

"¿Me pregunto cuánto te valora tu hermano?" Sean heard through the mad thundering in his ears. Then a hand snatched his gold pendant and with a quick powerful tug ripped it from his neck, breaking the thin chain. Sean watched it land on the floor among their trashed belongings and almost missed the thug's sneering comment, "Esto le dará una pista."

And yet his brain didn't register those words properly until he was pushed towards the back of the black car. Its trunk has been waiting for him, open wide in ominous invitation.

Sean stares at it in horror and with each step feels the last bits of his courage melting away like flimsy snowflakes in the blazing afternoon sun. Panic hits him next, belated and absolutely uncontrollable. He jerks and wants to put more distance between himself and the trunk, but as soon as he starts struggling the grip on his elbow becomes stronger and the gun digs into his side in warning. He has no choice but to keep walking, even as a pathetic low whine slips past his lips.

"No, por favor, no, suéltame," his voice is weak and thin and Sean hates himself for begging, but the trunk is getting closer and he grows desperate.

He gathers enough strength for one more jolt and miraculously breaks away. However, before he can do anything with his new-found freedom he's grabbed roughly by the hair and thrown down to his knees right beside the car's rear plate. The letters and digits dance in front of him and Sean tries to commit them to memory, although they will probably be useless to him in the end. He doesn't get to study them long, because his head is suddenly yanked back and Sean is forced to meet the angry eyes of the heavily tattooed guy. In the poor lighting the ink transforms his face into something grotesque and feral.

Sean flinches, seeing his hateful expression, and senses that he's going to put him through more pain. But Sean can't find the will to fight him. So he squeezes his eyes shut in helpless acceptance and prepares for the blow that will most likely knock him unconscious.

As he waits, the only thought that circles in his mind is, 'I'm sorry, little cub, so sorry.'

Seconds drag by but the punch never comes. Sean still hesitates to open his eyes, until the grip on his hair loosens and the man above him gasps for breath. He looks up at that, taking in the stiff, immobilized body of his aggressor and his startled expression that gradually turns pale and scared. Sean pulls back, gracelessly landing on his ass, and gapes at the outstretched arm dumbfounded. The fingers that previously held him tight twitch ever so slightly, as if unable to close into a fist.

And then they twist and break like a bunch of dry twigs.

The sound is not too loud, and yet Sean knows what excruciating pain follows it. The mobster screams, but it is muffled and resembles a guttural groan since his jaws stay clenched and won't let it out. Sean is so focused on the horrifying display he doesn't immediately notice the frantic scrapping noise coming from his left.

He turns his head to the side and sees the other mobster seized by the same invisible force, struggling against its severe pressure. The noise is made by the toes of his boots that scruff the driveway in an attempt to find some purchase and miserably failing. Soon he's lifted higher and Sean looks around, searching for the one who's doing this.

His brother.

Daniel is not difficult to spot, even from Sean's awkward angle. He's walking up the road towards the car with deliberate heavy steps, not hiding and seemingly not in a hurry to reach them. His gaze is locked on the two thugs he's choking and it's so dark with malicious intent Sean suppresses an involuntary shudder.

Suddenly the door on the driver's side of the car swings open and three gunshots pierce the tense silence. It happens so quickly Sean doesn't have time to warn Daniel. His stomach turns as he expects to see the bullets hit his brother. And they do. Or so it appears at first because they certainly strike something, only to ricochet off an imperceptible shield.

The sight brings back the memory of something Daniel told him when Sean asked about one of his scars. "Nothing's gonna graze me again," he said. Looks like he wasn't just being arrogant.

The driver fires two more shots that end up bouncing off Daniel as well. Then his brother lifts his arm and moves it forcefully to the side. A moment later Sean hears the clatter of the gun. Next comes a terrified yelp followed by a loud smack and the car shakes so hard Sean feels it with his back from where he's pressed against it.

The vibration effectively jerks him out of his stupor and he kicks his legs trying to sit up. His tied hands throw him off balance though and Sean finds himself falling face-first onto the shitty cracked asphalt. He turns in time to land on his left shoulder, which shoots a spike of pain through his arm and makes him squeeze his fingers.

That hurts a lot worse. So much so that Sean whines like a kicked dog.

"Sean!" Daniel's voice rings with worry and fear. Sean focuses on his breathing to get over the awful throbbing and answer, but he's too slow and Daniel takes his silence in the worst possible way. "Os arrepentiréis de esto," he says lowly, addressing the thugs he still has in his punishing hold, and in those words there's so much promise Sean pushes himself into an awkward half-lying position and attempts to call out his name. To tell him he's fine. Or rather that he will be.

But he's too late. Daniel doesn't look his way and doesn't hear him. The air around him swirls and sizzles, creating a moving magnetic field that's visible thanks to the little rocks and sand that get pulled into it. He raises both of his arms then, black ink stark and sinister on his skin, and with their motion rise the two men that are the opposite of who they were some half an hour ago – confident, dangerous, in control. Right now they are no better than a pair of trapped rabbits who sense they are about to be skinned.

Seeing them like that reminds Sean of the cougar that killed Mushroom, Daniel's only other friend and companion during their first months on the run. Sean vividly remembers his brother's grief, his anger. He was furious at the injustice of their pup's sudden death and acted on impulse, hurting the big cat that, not unlike them, was simply doing everything it could to survive. Back then Sean managed to step in and stop Daniel from crossing the line.

Today he doesn't get so lucky.

The two bodies lifted some six feet above the ground start to bend at impossible angles, each frighteningly easy snap of their bones punctuated by muffled moans and wails. Sean wishes he could look away but he can't bring himself to move a muscle, even holds his breath, frozen as he is with shock. Then comes one particularly nasty crack, followed shortly by another, but no sound accompanies them. Because those were the necks breaking.

Sean gasps, gulping for much needed oxygen, and starts coughing from the road dust that irritates the back of his throat. Daniel's head turns to him sharply and for a second Sean is overcome with irrational fear that he's going to attack him next. He doesn't, of course. But does something that tugs on Sean's insides and makes him want to puke.

He shoves the lifeless bodies into the open trunk, cramming them together as if they were shoddy stuffed toys.

Staring unblinkingly at the back of the car, Sean nearly misses the movement on his right that's only visible thanks to how close he is to the ground.

It's the driver, who is in a position very similar to his, sprawled on the road on the other side of the car, face smeared with blood from a busted eyebrow. He holds a hand over his chest, his shaking fist clutching at something Sean realises must be a cross because he hears a quick stuttering prayer the guy's saying out loud, clearly scared out of his wits.

Sean can't blame him, he feels exactly the same.

The trunk lid slams shut and Sean jumps, turning his head back to where his brother is. Daniel takes a few swift steps and drops to the ground beside him wearing a stony expression that Sean hates seeing on him.

"Daniel, they-" he starts, but his throat is dry and sore and he chokes on his words. Daniel's hands carefully pull him into a sitting position.

"Shh, it's okay, I took care of them, it's all over now," he says slowly, reassuringly, and leans closer to glance at what keeps Sean's arms bound.

A soft snap and the zip-tie falls off, finally letting Sean bring his numb hands into his lap. The little and ring fingers on his right hand have swollen considerably and an ugly bruise has crept across the deformed knuckles. When they graze the fabric he sucks in a sharp breath, biting his lip that's barely stopped bleeding. The salty taste floods his mouth anew. He swallows with some difficulty.

Daniel's hands hover over him, ready to assist. The same hands that wield a power strong enough to maim and kill. Sean reaches out with poorly concealed reluctance, which Daniel probably takes for exhaustion and gently helps him up.

It's once they are both standing that Sean remembers about the driver, who has also clambered to his feet and starts backing away, eyeing Daniel like a loose cannon. And perhaps he should because Sean feels his brother go stiff and the air around them thicken dangerously with a new release of telekinesis.

The man shifts, preparing to run, but Daniel's constricting force takes over him faster, incapacitating him in an instant. Sean watches him struggle and knows he has to do something before Daniel kills him too. Yet that very thought paralyzes him as it sinks in.

Daniel, his kindhearted baby brother who had to grow up too soon, killed someone. And the way he did it, without a hint of doubt or regret, suggests that it might not have been the first time either.

When he speaks, looking the trembling wheezing man in the eyes, his voice is firm and steady, just like his arm that stays wrapped protectively around Sean's shoulders.

"Dígales que si alguien vuelve aquí," he pauses, nodding at the closed trunk, "haré lo mismo con ellos y con todas sus familias." And then Daniel throws him inside the car, making him land across the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him. The guy hurries to start the engine and hits the gas so hard the tires screech loudly on the pavement.

Seconds later the car speeds down the road, disappearing into the falling night and taking the horrors of this evening away with it. Or so Sean would like to believe. In reality, the moment he moves he is reminded of his fingers, which pulse with muted shocks of pain that seem to be synchronized with his heartbeat. His blood flow gradually returns to normal as well and waves of sharp pinpricks rush all over his hands.

Daniel notices his discomfort and ushers him back towards their ruined house. Sean tries to protest, to stop him and explain what happened, but Daniel doesn't listen, his mind obviously set on getting him inside and sitting him down on something. Even if it turns out to be their butchered mattress. With that done he walks into the bathroom to fetch what's left of their first-aid kit and then into the kitchen area, moving the scattered appliances with grim focus as he searches for what he needs.

Sean watches him through the open door and can't help but feel baffled by how his brother pays no attention to their annihilated furniture. In fact, he doesn't even seem the littlest bit surprised to find everything in shambles. And when Daniel comes back into the bedroom and kneels beside him, asking if he can examine his hand, Sean stares at him for a while, sizing him up and coaxing himself to see the caring brother he knows and loves, and not the terrifying stranger who murdered two people in cold blood.

"Sean, please, let me take a look." He hears through a layer of white noise and realises he's been sitting with his legs pulled up to his chest and cradling his injured hand in a defensive manner, as if subconsciously waiting for someone to hurt him again.

Only there is no one who could do that anymore. Daniel made sure of that.

Sean shudders, then shakes his head to chase the building panic away and moves closer to his brother, letting him take care of his broken fingers.

They've mostly lost feeling by this point, so when Daniel carefully arranges them against a small rectangular piece of plastic he picked from somewhere on the floor and tapes them to it, Sean winces only a couple of times. It's the sight of them all bruised and dislocated that is more disturbing. How is he going to work at the garage now? Will he be able to draw any time soon?

"I'm sorry I didn't get back earlier," Daniel mumbles, pressing the bag of half-melted peas to his hand. Sean takes it and stays quiet. "We'll go to Manu's place, he'll know how to fix you up," Daniel promises, getting a piece of gauze next. He splashes it with alcohol and leans in to rub away the blood on Sean's face. Then he reaches for a bottle of painkillers, fishing out one and bringing it to Sean's lips. Sean takes it silently, ignoring the bitter taste and the pill's dry texture. Daniel's eyes won't meet his.

"How did you know they came here?" Sean asks the question that's been on his mind since they entered the house. Daniel glances up shortly, his features set in a stormy scowl, stands up and starts to pace.

"Manu called me. Said Ynez came to him and that she's- She's not in good shape." His hands ball up in fists and he turns away. "I had to make sure you were alright, so I returned." Sean watches him grab something from the corner of the room. A black duffle bag that he saw lying there, empty, about a week ago, which was a few days after his birthday. "We can't stay here," Daniel says, unzipping the bag and throwing it on the mattress beside Sean.

"What did you take from them?" he asks, although the answer is not difficult to deduce.

"Something they've got plenty of," Daniel mutters from where he sits in front of the safe, punching in the code that cost Sean so much pain. He feels anger bubble inside him and stands up too, swaying a little as he walks over to his brother.

"You stole money from them, didn't you?" he asks, glaring at the back of Daniel's head.

Daniel tenses but doesn't reply. He takes out a sack with something resembling thick rolls of paper, goes back to the mattress to dump it into the bag and marches to the bathroom, probably to get the toiletries that are in one piece. Before he returns Sean looks at what's left in the safe and is struck speechless when he spots a gun. He takes it gingerly into his left hand, the feel of it foreign and wrong, and not just because it's not in his dominant hand.

Is this why Daniel didn't want him to open the safe? Was he worried Sean would judge him for owning a gun?

He wants to ask, but then something else catches his eye. Lying on the bottom of the metal shelf is some kind of book. Sean finds its presence there odd and reaches inside to take it. In that moment he forgets about his temporary splint and gets a hold of it with his three still functioning fingers. But the effort sends an unpleasant twinge of pain through his wrist and he ends up dropping it.

The book falls to the floor and flips open, losing a bunch of pages in the process. Sean curses, throws the gun back into the safe and kneels to pick everything up.

"Sean, don't-" Daniel's strained voice comes from the doorway but Sean ignores him. Because he already realised what it is.

His old sketchbook. The one that should be in the canyon right now, in the backpack Brody gave him, together with all the other things that he had to leave behind when he climbed out of that cave. Yet somehow, it's here, in Daniel's safe, hidden like a dark dirty secret. An unsightly reminder of what they've been through. A depressing relic of their past.

Still, what startles him more are the loose pages, which are actually several newspaper clippings.

The dim light from the lonely bulb above gives the text and images a faded weathered look, and Sean's heart clenches familiarly with guilt. The words that caption the short article may be in another language but the pictures show him what he has more or less accepted and let go. The ruined entry point, a testament to his great failure, and a small somewhat blurry picture of himself above a measly obituary he doesn't bother to read. What Sean notices, however, are the wavy spots on the old paper that he knows usually appear after you spill water on it. Or tears.

His hands start to shake. He wills them to stop and flips to another clipping that for some reason has a picture of jolly tourists on the beach. Sean brows furrow in confusion until he squints to read the text. Once he does his frown deepens, because it's about an increase in pick-pocketing during a holiday season, the main reason for which had to be Daniel's need to survive in a foreign country. Without a soul to provide for him, what else was he supposed to do? Sean gets that, really, and yet it does nothing to convince him that it is not entirely his fault.

"Sean, please," Daniel's says, surprisingly close, and Sean takes a step back, seeing him reaching for the sketchbook, no doubt with the intention to take it away, to hide it again perhaps. "Please, don't read those, they're not-" he cuts himself off and grimaces, emotion raw in his eyes. "They don't define me, I swear." There's a flicker of desperation in his pleading gaze and Sean feels compelled to comfort him, to tell him he believes him.

But what happened today won't let him do it. He needs to know. Whatever it is that Daniel did, he can't stay oblivious to it any longer. So he studies the remaining two articles under the flickering light.

One is about a robbery. And not just any kind of breaking and entering situation but a full-on central bank robbery that left the place pretty much annihilated, what with that huge gaping hole in the facade of the depicted building. And Sean can take a wild guess as to who was responsible for it. But it's the last article that leaves him dizzy.

The picture doesn't give anything away since it only has a bunch of shitty houses and two police cars in the foreground. No, it's the concise '2 muertos' that chills him to the bones.

"It's true then," he says quietly, not trusting his voice to go above a whisper. "You stole before, and killed people on purpose." His tone is devoid of all inflection and when he raises his head he hopes that his face doesn't give away how absolutely devastated he is.

The light above them continues to blink and pieces of their shattered possessions twitch and go in the air. Sean doesn't let it phase him as he continues to stare straight at his brother. Waiting for him to tell the truth at last.

"Yes, I did." Daniel clenches his fists. He doesn't add anything else and Sean's blood starts to boil.

"And that's it? That's all you've got to say?" He shoves the articles in between the sketchbook pages and shuts it emphatically. He doesn't let go of it though, pressing it to his chest as if it were a shield that could protect him from the growing tornado of broken junk in the room.

"What do you want me to say!" Daniel cries and shakes off his hands, trying to dispel the power that tugs at every single item nearby. "Yes, I did all of those terrible things, and then some! I've become the most dangerous monster here, so that others would leave me the fuck alone!" His lips twist in a snarl and he grips his long messy bangs with angry viciousness, pulling on them so hard it brings tears to his eyes. Or maybe those come on their own. "You can hate me now all you want, but please, Sean, please, don't go, I-"

"I don't hate you," Sean interrupts him. "I could never hate you, but-" He gulps nervously, still keeping his distance, even as Daniel makes another step towards him. "Why, enano? Why did you do it again? Why did you steal from those people?"

Daniel's cheeks are ghostly pale and glisten wetly in the uneven light. At least the mad whirlwind of rubble has died down.

"I didn't want to," he says dejectedly, looking to the side. "But I couldn't let Ynez tell you everything."

"What?" Sean blinks, lost. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She-" Daniel huffs irritably, then explains, "When she came to the club, on your birthday, she said that if I don't help her and the crew, she'd tell you about me, about us."

"Us?" Sean prompts, although he's already queasy with apprehension.

Daniel seems hesitant for a moment, then hangs his head and says, resigned, "We used to be part of a gang once, and they," he halts, looking for the right words, "they were like family for a while, the closest I could get to a family anyway." He glances at Sean, hoping to find understanding. "It was fine, at first, but when they learned what I can do-"

"They know?" Sean yelps, unable to contain his shock. Daniel only shrugs his shoulders.

"They wanted to make me become their hitman or something, I refused and left," he says in a clipped tone. Then nods at the sketchbook in Sean's hands. "That last article, it's from that day."

Sean lowers his gaze, suddenly feeling bad about his initial reaction. Then he remembers Daniel's last words to the driver. There's something that doesn't sit right with him.

"Is this why you said you'd hurt their families if anybody else comes here?" Even after you killed those two. "You really know them that well?" Daniel flinches from the unspoken accusation. He knows how important family ties are, and to use a threat like that on someone speaks a lot about his brother's adopted methods of dealing with trouble.

"You don't know what they wanted to do to you, Sean, what they are capable of. There was no other way," he says with conviction. Sean thinks he's going to be sick.

He takes a couple more steps and blindly leans against the wall, his breath quick and laboured. Daniel wants to approach him, Sean can tell, but he doesn't dare. Sean's eye wanders across the space that's separating them and suddenly falls on something round and shiny. It's his necklace. He bends down and picks it up.

"Was it made by someone from that gang too? One of those," dead, "men said it'd give you a clue..."

Daniel's jaw tightens as he grits his teeth. And that is enough of an answer.

"Fuck," Sean drops the sketchbook and the necklace and clutches his spinning head, jerking when the make-shift splint hits him in the brow. "This is so messed up," he concludes, staring unseeingly at the dirty knees of his jeans.

"I'm so sorry," Daniel says softly, right beside him. His hand falls uncertainly on his back. And Sean can't stand his touch. It reminds him how awfully, irreversibly screwed everything is and how there's nothing he can do to fix it. There's no bringing those people back to life. There's no taking back what his brother did. What Sean failed to prevent.

Suddenly breathing becomes an impossible task, not when Daniel is this close, and Sean swats him away, stumbles across the room, into the hall and towards the front door.

He has to get out of here before this overwhelming sense of wrongness engulfs him whole.

He almost makes it to the threshold when his legs stick to the floor. Sean cries and flails his arms, afraid to fall, but finds them paralyzed as well. He wants to whip his head around to glare at Daniel but his movements are restricted and he only manages to tilt it to the side.

"Let me go," he groans through clenched teeth, and to his surprise Daniel listens. The pressure disappears and he crashes down. The pain barely registers in his brain, but he finds himself shaking with dry sobs by the time Daniel gets to him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think, I didn't mean to, but you ran and I-" Daniel blabbers, fresh tears running down his face. "Please, Sean, I know what I did was bad, but when I saw you there, with bl-blood all over your face I thought, I just-" He hiccups and pulls Sean into a hug so tight it's almost uncomfortable. But this time Sean doesn't pull away.

He hugs Daniel back, just as tightly. It encourages him to talk and words spill out of him as if an invisible dam broke.

"On the border, you know, when we were about to cross it, you decided not to, and I- God, I was so fucking stupid, a disgusting little piece of shit, I was- I didn't listen, I told you-" His voice becomes feverish as he speaks, and all Sean can do is hold him as he lets it out, like burning poison that's been eating at him for the past six years. "I told you it was my turn to take care of us, an idiotic fucking brat, I pr-promised you and you- Fuck!" He angrily rubs at his face with a closed fist, sniffles and finishes in a broken tone. "You got shot, because of me. You died because I couldn't protect you."

He then goes quiet and sinks deeper into Sean's embrace, seeking support only his big brother can give him. The support he's been without for too long. And Sean tries his best, even as he struggles to come to terms with everything he learned today, each discovery more rattling than the other.

Yet somehow their significance fades while he has Daniel in his arms, as though the six-year-gap isn't there and they are back to how they were at the beginning of their journey. The big wolf and the little wolf, together. Hoping for a new future, far away from evil hunters and other dangers of this cruel world.

Sean wants to believe again that getting this future is possible. He needs to believe it. For Daniel's sake, and his own.

A few days later, however, he finds out something that rips that fantasy away for good.

Chapter 7

Notes:

Thanks to elfinglitters for discussing the plot with me and saving Sean from too much suffering!

Chapter Text

It happens when Daniel goes out to get groceries.

After the incident their home-lair was not safe anymore and they had to look for a new one. The first night they stayed at Manu's who put Sean's hand in a proper cast. To do that he had to rearrange his bones so that they would heal right, which was some nasty procedure Sean refused to watch. Daniel, however, never left his side and let him claw at his forearm as he whined in more inevitable pain.

But his broken fingers were nothing compared to the state Ynez was in. Sean only saw a glimpse of her, sprawled on the couch in the back of the tattoo parlour, her head heavily bandaged and her whole arm in a cast. Manu gave them a small room upstairs with a squeaky narrow bed. Sean could hardly sleep because of the dull throbbing in his jaw (the loose tooth had to be pulled out), while Daniel stayed propped against the headboard, watching him and the door with half-lidded eyes probably until the sun rose. Sean can't be sure though, he fell into a heavy slumber somewhere around dawn.

And then they moved to Dad's old house. Which, surprisingly, was not a ruin anymore, but had a brand new wall with a nice porch and a front door, and also a recently repaired roof. When Sean turned to Daniel for an explanation he only shrugged, mumbling, "You said you wanted to live here," and averted his eyes as he dragged their bags inside.

Because Sean knew that there could be only one explanation. And that it involved the money Daniel stole and that got them in a whole lot of trouble.

Three days passed since then. Sean's been taking painkillers that Daniel got for him and can say that he feels less like shit. If only he could erase that evening from his memory. But it would also mean erasing what he learned about Daniel, and that wouldn't do. He has to get to know his brother, with all his flaws and hidden sins, if he truly wants them to make it work.

And it seems to be quite a challenge. In these last few days Daniel has been both omnipresent and elusive, never leaving Sean on his own for more than an hour and yet managing to avoid conversations by constantly doing something about the house, helping Sean do the most basic things or hovering over his shoulder to make sure he doesn't need help.

It almost gets to the point of being absurd and Sean has to give Daniel an exasperated lecture when he takes too long in the shitty barely working shower and Daniel gets ready to barge in to check on him.

Still, Sean isn't so much against his company when they go to bed, the only one they have for the time being in the room they decided would be Sean's bedroom. Well, Daniel decided, explaining that it would be perfect for him since it has a balcony where he will be able to sit and draw once they set up the railings. It also has a nicer view than the other room, or rather will have it when they put in new panes. Until then the windows and the sliding door to the balcony are boarded, giving the room a slightly claustrophobic vibe together with the title of the safest place in the house. The door even has a lock, an old-fashioned one that goes with a key.

Sean finds it difficult to feel at ease there. Nightmares plague him with frustrating consistency, and Daniel's proximity should make him sleep better, but it doesn't.

Because half of his dreams are filled with the sounds of bones breaking from the pressure of his brother's telekinetic grip. The other half is full of atrocious visions of the dead gang members taking revenge on them.

When Sean crossed the border and drove all the way to Puerto Lobos he kept picturing how it would greet him. The town and its people, the unfamiliar streets, the old family home, the beach right in the backyard, and of course, the ocean.

Sean remembers telling Daniel, his ten-year-old naive and impressionable little brother, about all these things as if they were their personal Eldorado, hoping that the kid would love the idea enough to follow him into a foreign country, into a foreign life. But somehow the more he told Daniel those bedtime stories about the wolf brothers who finally reach their papa wolf's homeland, the more he started to believe in them himself.

That's why the first time he saw Mexico and Puerto Lobos with its ocean in the backyard for what they were, he was crushed. Mostly because the day he finally reached them, he was alone.

Meeting Daniel changed his perspective, and Sean was too eager to get back the dream he'd cherished for all those months on the run to admit that something was wrong. For a while all he wanted was to be with his brother and watch the lazy waves together.

But Sean can't pretend everything will work itself out anymore. Sitting on the veranda of Dad's, their house, taking slow drags of a cigarette and looking at the bright happy blues of the sky and the water that reflects it, Sean realises that the life he's been striving for is still far away. He and Daniel will both need to work hard to regain each other's trust, to become a team and not just two people who happen to be tied by blood.

And to do that, they'll need to talk. Preferably not while one of them is sobbing or bleeding out. They need a calm relaxing setting, maybe in this very spot, on the veranda, with a couple of beers. Perhaps when Daniel returns they could...

Sean glances at the old carcass of the building that Daniel regularly visited to spend time at his memorial. It's in plain sight here and would probably bring up Daniel's least happy memories.

Right. So. Another place then.

Sean stands up from the lone plastic chair he dragged out to have a smoke and walks back into the house.

The first floor is a mess. The only place that looks somewhat lived-in is the kitchen, the rest is no better than a warehouse that's been standing empty and exposed to the humid seaside climate for years. Daniel kept bringing in more stuff they could use to fix it, but the repair works had to be postponed. As well as Sean's apprenticeship at the garage. Sean tried to talk him round, but Daniel was adamant.

"Give it at least a week, you need to heal, and I need to make sure nobody comes to mess with us again," he said. And Sean didn't ask him how exactly he was going to do that. He should.

The stairs also need renovation, but Sean has learned to climb them almost without making every single step creak under his feet. Once on the second floor he goes straight for the bedroom, intending to change his shirt (Daniel gets irked by the strong tobacco scent, even if he does his best not to show it) and sketch a little before his brother returns. Drawing always settled his nerves like nothing else could, and if he does it only several minutes a day it doesn't hurt so bad.

Had somebody asked Sean if he was afraid of what Daniel could do when they were travelling across America, Sean would've scoffed at the ridiculousness of the question. Of course you don't discover every day that your little brother has superpowers, but Sean never thought Daniel would hurt him, or anyone. Not intentionally.

And now… He's not sure what to think anymore, and that's what scares him.

Their bedroom is big but fairly empty. Aside from an old wardrobe, a desk that serves both as a dining and a bedside table and the bed itself, there is no other furniture. Sean started unpacking their stuff when they arrived but there wasn't much to unpack, they took only the bare minimum. He walks towards the wardrobe, pulling off his t-shirt as he goes. Maneuvering his cast around might have become easier, but Sean still can't wait to get rid of it. He's had enough of wrapping it in plastic bags to be able to take a shower, and it's barely been a week.

The golden pendant feels cool against his chest, reminding Sean of its presence, and he hurries to pull the creaky wooden doors open and study his limited choice of clean clothes. They really need to get a washing machine soon, because he is definitely not going to wash the growing pile of dirty laundry on his own. And knowing Daniel, he isn't going to either.

He spots a folded shirt on the top shelf and reaches for it, hoping it won't have too many holes. Not that he's got a lot of options. Turns out it's the shirt Daniel bought him at the end of his first week in Mexico. It's a size too big and has this chalk-like sketch of a wolf on the front. Daniel had a matching white one, with the wolf scribbled in black. Sean smiles softly, remembering that he saw Daniel in it last on the day of his birthday. He hasn't worn it since.

Sean's smile falls. He pulls the shirt on in a hurry and wants to close the wardrobe shut, but notices the familiar edge of his old sketchbook on the same shelf. Sean takes it and shuffles across the room to sit on the bed.

When he unpacked his bag, he put it on the table but didn't have the guts to open it even once, doing some sketches in the book Daniel gave him as a present instead. What he found out in those paper clippings has been constantly on his mind and at some point he debated calling Karen to talk about it, so that it wouldn't be only his burden. He couldn't do it in the end. And doesn't think he ever will.

Sean traces the cover with his fingers, going over his own name, faded from everything the book's been exposed to, then steels himself and flips it open.

If he wants to set things right with Daniel, he has to start by facing his own past and accepting his own choices.

The first page greets him with Dad's handwriting, wishing him a happy sixteenth birthday. Sean's eye stings and he blinks quickly to hold back unbidden tears. It's hard to believe how much has happened between that day and the present.

The next few pages are filled with sketches of Dad, Daniel and himself, chilling without a care in the world and completely oblivious to what the near future holds. There are also Lyla, Eric and Ellery at the skatepark, more Lyla, whom he often drew during boring classes, and Jenn, his high school crush. Seeing them again, even in the form of half-assed drawings, is like going to a parallel universe where he gets to be a regular teen whose biggest problem is what to bring to a Halloween party.

Then it all goes to shit. The sketches get darker and messier, the notes turn angry and desperate and are full of poorly disguised pain and pep talk directed at himself.

The blank page with a single line 'miss you Dad' tugs at Sean's heart with as much intensity as on that very day when he couldn't bring himself to draw anything at all.

The following pages revive in his memory the freaky incident at the gas station, the second blow of the unfair real world after Dad's death, but also little Mushroom, and Brody who did so much for them. Daniel wears the bandanna he gave him around his wrist and it always makes Sean think about the rare good people that they came across during their long journey.

Sean turns another page and stops, suddenly hit with a feeling that something isn't the way it should be. The notes and little doodles suggest that he did them while he and Daniel were at the motel. There are the three goofy seals and tiny Daniel playing fetch with tiny Mushroom on the left. But on the right there's a big bold 'Sorry' next to a picture of Lyla and her number underneath.

Sean blinks at it perplexed, struggling to remember what he was apologising for, then looks closer at the text below and goes very still. 'Didn't call Lyla,' it says, 'too dangerous… Might get her in trouble.' Which doesn't make any sense because…

Because Sean did call her. It was among the toughest choices he had to make and both times he had the chance to call Lyla, at that motel and later at Claire and Stephen's, he did it, even though it was dangerous. He just couldn't ghost her, his best friend, who worried for him and Daniel like they were her own family and-

His grip on the sketchbook tightens as Sean is overcome with a strong sense of foreboding. He flips through it with much more focus, looking for any other inconsistencies and hoping that he won't find any.

This hope gets shattered almost instantly when he spots a sketch of Daniel wearing the raccoon sweater he begged for at the gas station. The one that Sean refused to steal to remain a good role model.

Sure, he hasn't looked through this sketchbook in a while, but he can't be mixing things up. Not to such an extent.

He continues turning the pages with growing urgency, feeling that he's about to find something that will finally make him understand.

It's a lot like putting together a puzzle, connecting what he sees on paper with what Daniel mentioned to him in passing and what Sean learned over the past several weeks. Slowly but surely everything falls into place. Daniel's little comments, about the haircut Sean supposedly got at the weed farm and about Finn who can't be here or anywhere (because 'Greed kills'), the ease with which he talked about pickpocketing and fooling unsuspecting people, and finally his immoral deeds described in those newspaper articles, - all of it appears before Sean in a completely different light.

And he sees with dizzying clarity that the sketchbook he has in his hands right now is not, in fact, his. It belongs to the Sean who died at the border six years ago.

Who lied, and stole, and stabbed good people in the back to save his own ass.

Who crossed the line and let the darkness consume him, turning into a monster so that Daniel wouldn't have to, but in the end pushing him down the same path.

Daniel's real brother.

The realisation crashes down on him, kicking air out of his lungs and making his chest painfully tight. It reminds him of the revelation he had while he tripped on acid, which was too horrifying and surreal to accept. Who knew it was actually not so far from the truth.

Ever since Sean met his little brother, grown up, run down, broken, he's been blaming himself for what Daniel has become. He kept thinking that it had to be something he did, something he said that shaped the kind of person Daniel is today. Sean felt that he failed him one way or another, by being a bad influence, by dying on him when he needed him most. And by giving him the idea that he would be better off in Mexico than anywhere else.

The mere possibility that this nightmarish life Daniel's been thrust into is not entirely his fault leaves Sean lightheaded. He stares at the last page where two wolves are walking towards the rising sun, ready to make the last stop in their journey, and it looks so full of hope he wants to scream at the Sean who drew them to turn back before it's too late.

But it is too late already, six years too late.

No wonder Daniel hid this sketchbook in a safe. Memories such as these should definitely be locked away. Only there is no safe here.

The floorboards in the hall creak and Sean snaps his head up to see Daniel walk through the door. Their eyes meet and it takes Daniel less than a second to notice what he has in his lap. His face turns sombre and a bit pale.

"You read it," he says.

"Yes," Sean whispers in reply, although Daniel doesn't really need one.

He puts the plastic bag from the store on the floor and comes closer, but stops a few steps away from the bed.

There is a long moment of silence, which Sean wants to break and doesn't know how. He's got so many questions he simply can't pick one, and Daniel's tense form, looming above him, makes him nervous and indecisive, as if out of the two of them it's him who is the younger brother. And before he can do something about it Daniel takes the lead.

"That day, when you showed up on the beach," he starts, not raising his gaze from the sketchbook, "I knew immediately that you weren't my Sean."

Sean's breath hitches in surprise.

"How?" he asks quietly, eager to understand what he himself discovered just minutes ago.

"You looked exactly like he did the last time I saw him, but you didn't have the tattoo," he says and gestures to Sean's right forearm, probably to where that tattoo was supposed to be. Sean lets go of the sketchbook and rubs the empty skin, wondering what the other Sean had there. "A wolf," Daniel supplies, guessing his thoughts.

Sean looks up. Daniel has a faint smile on his lips but his eyes remain sad and distant.

"It was a silly crooked thing, and it was right there, impossible to miss unless you wear long sleeves." He shakes his head and his smile turns into a grimace. "And I thought, 'It doesn't have to mean anything', but then we started living together, and I realised that you are very different from him."

He falls silent, which prompts Sean to put the sketchbook aside and stand up to be level with him.

"Different how?" Daniel glances at him uncertainly and bites his lip in consideration. Sean takes a step closer. "Tell me, enano. Please."

Daniel huffs, bringing a hand up to swipe back his long choppy bangs, stops halfway and drops it, leaving his hair a tousled mess.

"You're just so-" He waves at Sean, struggling to find the most fitting word, and ends up saying, "Soft."

It's so far from what Sean imagined he'd say he snorts, bewildered.

"Soft? Seriously?"

"I mean-" Daniel's cheeks lose their pallor and get flooded with an embarrassed blush. He crosses his arms over his chest, then drops them down in frustration and explains, "You always want to do the right thing, even when you don't have to, and you run from conflict and never get angry, even when you should. Like, you never bitch to me about being messy, or about your shitheaded boss, or that you got hurt because of me and your hand got screwed. You're too fucking forgiving, and too fucking kind, and it's-" He frowns and continues with a note of desperation. "It's driving me crazy, to have you here with me in this- This fucking shithole." He throws his arms out emphatically and Sean knows that he means not only their house but Puerto Lobos in general. "You don't deserve this."

"Daniel, come on, it's not that bad-"

"See?" he cuts him off harshly. "That's what I'm talking about. Your damned positive thinking, your stupid trust in the best in people, your- Fucking everything!"

His breathing is heavy and his eyes are blazing, but Sean stubbornly holds his gaze. Just what sort of brother did Daniel have if Sean being a decent dude strikes him as such a fundamental difference?

"So, what now? You've seen how fucked up I am and know that you're not actually my brother. What are you gonna do, Sean?" Daniel asks, sharp and bitter. The atmosphere in the room shifts, and it's Sean's time to frown.

"Wh- What do you mean?" he mumbles, feeling a bit stunned.

"Are you gonna leave me?" Daniel's voice goes hoarse and his hands close into white-knuckled fists, nails no doubt digging into the flesh of his palms. The air grows thick and heavy, charged with the power that's ready to lash out.

As he waits for Sean to respond Daniel looks like he's preparing to hear his sentence based on his shitty past, the past that he too didn't deserve. It burns Sean from inside and makes him act before he can think of a proper answer. He takes the last couple of steps towards Daniel and carefully places his hands on his shoulders, squeezing as much as his cast allows to show that he's here, he's not going anywhere. Despite the ominous low buzz of telekinetic energy around him.

"I may not be the brother you grew up with, but I'm still Sean, you know? I'm the big wolf," he says slowly, watching Daniel's reaction, "and I would never abandon you, little cub."

Sean pulls Daniel forward and presses their foreheads together in a gesture he hopes will work as well as it did when Daniel was a kid.

Thankfully, it does and Daniel gradually relaxes. However, when they break apart he studies Sean with a somewhat guarded expression.

"Do you-" He hesitates. His hands clench and unclench by his sides. Then he gathers enough courage and asks, looking Sean in the face when he does, "Are you afraid of me?"

The question catches Sean off guard and it's in that moment that he takes note of how his heart is thudding in his chest and how cold and sweaty his palms are. He's breathing a bit too fast and his chest feels constricted. He's clearly stressed, there's no denying it, but that's only because of the serious nature of their talk, and the weight of the discovery he made today.

It can't be because he's on the lookout for any objects going in the air or the tingling sensation of Daniel's power against his skin, weighing down his limbs and pinning him to the floor.

'Don't be ridiculous, of course not,' he wishes he could say and mean it.

"I'm not," he says instead, hating the defensive note that gives away his anxiousness. Daniel seems to catch on it too.

"You shouldn't, you're the most important person in my life," he says. "And I will never let anyone hurt you again, I promise," he adds, open and earnest.

And Sean feels like such an asshole. Why is he jumping to conclusions about his brother after Daniel literally saved him from crazy violent kidnappers? Why is he assuming the worst before hearing the whole story and Daniel's reasons for doing what he did?

He should be ashamed of himself for promising Daniel trust and support and secretly wondering if his brother has become a psychotic murderer.

"I know you won't," he says around a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry I-," he pauses. Thinks for a bit, then says, "I just want to know about your- your Sean, and what happened to you in these six years, I want to know it all, I- I need to."

Daniel's gaze darkens, his face becomes closed off. But then he also makes an effort over himself and asks, "Are you sure?"

Sean nods. Daniel sighs, then nods as well.

"Let's maybe eat first?" he suggests.

Sean lets out a short laugh, which sounds a tad hysterical but helps him take the edge off his raging nerves that kept him tense this whole time.

"Yeah, good call," he agrees, and Daniel gets the plastic bag fly to them across the room.

Later in the evening they go to the beach and talk, watching the sunset. And while it's hard for Sean to hear about the endless hardships Daniel encountered on his own, as well as about the choices his alternative self made for both of them, by the time they finish he feels lighter than he has in days.

It's no doubt disturbing that he took another Sean's place by his brother's side in this deeply flawed reality, but for Daniel, who has endured so much by sixteen, it means everything, Sean can tell. And falling asleep beside him on their single bed, he knows that no matter the circumstances he must fulfill his responsibility as a big brother, and that he must do it right.

Daniel's arm lies warm and solid across his chest and sleep almost claims him when Sean is suddenly struck with a thought that keeps him wide awake for the rest of the night, getting progressively more alarming.

If this Daniel had a big brother who died at the border all those years ago, a brother who isn't him, does it mean that his own Daniel who Sean left at the canyon when he fell into that freaky cave is still out there somewhere, across time and space, in some parallel universe, growing up completely alone?

What if he ends up in Puerto Lobos, like this Daniel did? What if by leaving him for good Sean dooms him to the exact same life that he's just heard about in excruciating detail?

'Fuck. What have I done?' pulses hotly in his head, along with, 'Is it too late to fix it?'

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Sean keeps thinking about it until the morning comes, and as they go about their daily routine the vague feeling of being in the wrong place and doing the wrong thing steadily grows, going far beyond something he could dismiss as simple paranoia.

After they talked Daniel finally dropped his cautious act and became more relaxed around him. Which doesn't stop Sean's contemplative gaze from lingering on him throughout the day. It's ironic, but now that there are seemingly no secrets left between them Sean finds himself reluctant to share what's running through his head.

The stubborn thoughts refuse to go away though, and when they are having dinner in their room, eating simple pasta, Sean can't help glancing at the old sketchbook that lies on the table every now and again.

Yesterday he looked through it in a haste and in a mild state of panic, rushing through the last several pages without really focusing on every little note and drawing. And those, upon a day-long reflection, could've been the most important pieces of the puzzle he suspects he still hasn't put together completely.

What happened to Sean in this reality after the trip to the canyon could very well be the clue as to what happened to his little brother after he disappeared in that stupid magic cave. Or the clue could be something that happened right before the damned trip. Sean just needs to look at everything more closely, like he did when he found a note from Jacob about Daniel's whereabouts.

He takes another bite of his meal, chewing on reflex alone and barely tasting anything, his eye trained on the sketchbook and his leg going up and down in an anxious bounce, thankfully hidden under the table.

There's no way Daniel doesn't notice his jittery tension. And yet he doesn't ask him what the matter is, probably assuming Sean will tell him when he's ready. Or maybe he suspects what Sean has been thinking about and just doesn't want to start the conversation himself.

Sean puts the fork down and realises all of a sudden how quiet it is in the room. He swallows the bland mass that the pasta got ground into in his mouth and turns his head further to the left to see Daniel better.

His brother is already watching him and Sean jumps a little when he meets his dark thoughtful eyes.

"Wh-what?" he asks, shifting in a nervous and hopefully discreet manner.

Daniel stays silent for a bit, then his eyes lower to Sean's half-empty plate and he says, "If you're full, I'll take it back to the kitchen."

Sean nods dumbly and Daniel grabs the plates, leaves the room, and goes stomping down the stairs, unbothered by the ones that creak loudly under his weight.

The silence in the room seems to get louder when put in contrast with the cluttering of dishes from downstairs. Sean's gaze returns to the sketchbook. He hesitates shortly before grabbing it and flipping it open on the last filled page where two wolves go happily towards the rising sun, not knowing that only one of them will live to see the new day.

From there he goes to the earlier logs, poring over those that he doesn't remember writing himself. But none of them suggest they could be of any use to him now.

He pauses at a particular spread, however, focusing on the sketch of Daniel together with a pair of wolves happy to be in each other's company again. With how messy and rushed they are Sean doesn't even have to check the date to know that they were made shortly after he escaped the hospital. He still remembers the splitting headaches he used to get every time he concentrated on something for longer than a couple of minutes.

It didn't stop him from drawing though. Reading the uneven lines on the left page he learns that in this timeline he apparently never trusted the kindhearted truck driver and walked the remaining miles to Haven Point on foot, preferring to suffer the scorching heat of the desert than risk believing a stranger again. The words 'Gotta hold on for him' above the drawing of Daniel give Sean a weird feeling of respect towards his other self.

It also makes him feel his own inadequacy more acutely than ever.

Because he ended up abandoning his little brother after all.

Sean gets lost in his thoughts and Daniel's voice from the door startles him so much the sketchbook nearly slips from his fingers.

"Wanna go chill on the beach?" Daniel asks.

It got considerably darker while he was downstairs and the bleak light from the LED lamp they put on the table barely helps to distinguish his form in the doorway. Sean blinks, then squints a little and finally sees two cans of beer his brother is holding out in invitation.

"Nah, man, I'm kinda beat," he says, and actually means it. His limbs feel heavy and his head is pulsing with a deep dull pain. He frowns and brings his left hand up to rub at his temples.

The cans land on the table with a soft clank and Daniel's voice sounds more worried.

"I'll get you a painkiller then." He turns to go to the bathroom but Sean stops him.

"No, don't- I just need to sleep it off," he says, not quite convinced himself. Daniel doesn't argue though and soon sits beside him on the bed.

The weight of Sean's unspoken worries hangs between them, turning the silence into an uneasy one. Daniel doesn't try to break it. Nor does he start getting ready for bed.

Is he going to leave in the night to 'take care of things' again? Should Sean talk to him about it? Or should he ask about what's been bugging him all day?

His gaze wanders back to the sketchbook. He closes it carefully and rubs at the tattered spine.

"Hey, enano," Sean begins, glancing over at Daniel whose jaw is set and downcast eyes are mostly hidden by the bangs. "What do you think happened to my-" My real brother is the absolutely worst way to put it, but he manages to catch himself and reformulates, "To everybody, you know, after I- uh, got lost in the canyon?"

Daniel huffs, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Sean, and I don't really give a fuck," he says tersely and looks up. His eyes glisten in the pale light. "What matters to me is that you're here."

Sean swallows around a lump in his throat and nods, not sure how he should reply to that. Daniel stands up, stretches and pulls his shirt over his head as he walks to the wardrobe to grab a fresh one. The lone wolf howls at the moon on his shoulder blade, reminding Sean of the designs he's been making in the new sketchbook. Daniel never gave up the idea of adding a second wolf to it, and even started talking Sean into getting a pair of matching tattoos. He left the choice of what those should be to Sean.

"I know you'll come up with something wicked. Your drawings have always been so cool," he said with a fond little grin.

Sean lets out a deep breath and decides to tell Daniel what's really been bothering him.

"It's just that-" Sean finds it difficult to speak but knows that if he doesn't he won't be able to sleep this night either. "What if something bad happened and I wasn't there to prevent it."

Daniel freezes in front of the open wardrobe, his back rigid like that of a statue.

"There's no way for you to know that, right?" he asks in a colourless tone. Sean doesn't reply right away, and Daniel pushes. "Right?" He turns around, and Sean gets the impression he's daring him to prove him wrong.

And Sean could, if only he was certain himself. But he isn't. So he shakes his head. "No, I guess not," he mutters.

"Then drop it. I'm gonna go wash up," Daniel concludes their awkward conversation and strides out of the room, leaving Sean alone with his thoughts, which turn darker with each passing minute. Much like their old gloomy house.

It gets even more eerie at night. Especially when somewhere around two Daniel crawls out of bed, gets dressed quietly and walks out of the room, turning the key with his power so that it stays in the lock on the inside. Once Sean can no longer hear his footsteps on the creaky floorboards he sits up and switches on the light.

The closed door looks plain and unassuming, with the key sticking out and offering an easy escape if he wants it. But it also reminds Sean about everything Daniel is so eager to shelter him from, despite the promise they made the other day to never let anything stand between them again, to always have each other's backs, to take on the world together. And not like this.

Not with Daniel doing all the dirty work, shouldering the heaviest part and quite assured that's the way it should be.

Sean frowns, fighting the impulse to get up and follow his brother, to show that he's not as 'soft' as Daniel believes him to be. That he won't break if he shares the burden Daniel's been carrying alone for so many years. He even swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pushing himself to move, to not be a fucking coward for once. But something stops him.

Something that he refuses to acknowledge as the fear to see his little brother torturing and killing more people and to be absolutely incapable of doing anything about it. To realise that for Daniel backing off, showing mercy and resisting his violent urges has become as foreign as the country he was born in and fled without looking back.

So Sean stays in bed, switching the lamp off and hoping that the shadows that drown the room will sink his heavy conscience too. But as he lies with his eyes firmly shut, both exhausted and extremely on edge, his mind supplies him with unbidden parallels between the kind of life this Daniel was plunged into after his brother was taken from him on the border, and the kind of life his Daniel is going to have after he left him in the canyon.

Could he still be looking for him? Waiting for him to come back? Or could Sean's disappearance be a good thing?

What if without Sean Daniel won't ever try to cross the border and come to Puerto Lobos? After all, he isn't completely alone, there are their grandparents and Karen who would look after him and wouldn't let him do anything stupid. What if Sean's absence is actually his little brother's salvation?

The overactive whirling of his thoughts eventually slows down and Sean misses the moment when he slips into a dream. He doesn't take it for one either and finds nothing wrong with suddenly walking down a dirty soot-stained isle between a bunch of charred chairs lying on both sides in disarray.

He looks around, taking in the high ceiling of the church that he left to be completely consumed by flames, beaten to a bloody pulp himself and limping so bad he had to be supported by Karen or Daniel not to keel over. The memory of his bruises brings phantom pain to his head and ribs and stomach and he stumbles on his way to the raised platform. When he glances up at it he sees the cross, black and cracked in multiple places, but miraculously still attached to the wall.

And right beneath it is a small figure Sean would recognise anywhere, regardless of how many months or years pass and how many realities separate them.

It's his little brother, his Daniel, in a tattered red Space Mission shirt with a bandanna tied around his neck and a pair of worn shorts, the clothes Sean remembers him wearing the last time he saw him, running ahead up a rocky trail.

Daniel is standing with his back to him, head raised to the damaged cross, and Sean feels a strong tug on his heart when he climbs up the shaky wooden stairs to come stand beside him. Once he gets close enough he calls his brother softly, "Enano? It's me, Sean. I finally found you."

Daniel doesn't respond. He doesn't react to his proximity until Sean touches him on the shoulder. Then Daniel turns and stares right into Sean's only seeing eye with a stern unhappy expression.

"Why did you leave me, Sean?" he asks and the bluntness of it makes Sean take a step back.

"I- I didn't, it's- I didn't mean to," he stutters, struggling to remember what exactly kept him from getting to Daniel as soon as possible.

"You promised you'd never give up on me." Daniel's voice rings with accusation that pierces Sean's chest like a crooked dagger. "You said you'd always come back for me, no matter what happens."

"Daniel-" he tries, wanting to justify himself, to explain that he never wanted to go back on his word and coming up short.

"Why didn't you, Sean?" The cross on the wall creaks suddenly, freezing Sean in place and drawing his gaze to it. "Why did you leave me all alone?" The walls start to tremble and Sean smells the unmistakable heavy scent of smoke. "Don't you love me anymore?" The cross ignites as the flames burst from within the splintering wood. Sean gasps in silent terror, unable to look away and equally unable to move.

Daniel is right in front of him but his words seem to echo off every surface in the burning building.

"You never wanted to return, did you?" Sean's eye snaps back to his brother, who is so small compared to the Daniel he got used to seeing around in the last couple of months.

"Yes, Daniel, I did- I do!" he cries and reaches out to grab Daniel's shoulder, but when he does a bright orange flash blinds him momentarily and he squints. Then he blinks and instead of the burning church sees the vast canyon bathed in the smoldering light of the setting sun.

"I'm so scared," Daniel whispers in a broken tone. "You promised we'd always be together, but you lied. You're never coming back."

"No, Daniel, listen, I will! You hear me?" As Sean speaks his own voice becomes somewhat muffled and distant, and Daniel who was so close just a second ago starts to get further away, but he's standing still and it's Sean who feels like he's being dragged away.

But he doesn't want to. So he struggles and struggles against the force that's tearing him and Daniel apart.

"I'll come back for you, little cub, I promise! I'll find a way whatever it takes, just wait for me! Please!"

Daniel's figure is getting even smaller and more distant, his lips are moving but Sean can't make out the words because he's falling. Falling deep into the cave that separates the two of them and robs his pleas and cries of their sense and volume. He dissolves in the darkness, unable to climb back up. Unable to return.

"Daniel!" Sean moans trough clenched teeth and jerks awake, looking around completely disoriented. His heart is trying to pound out of his chest and he sits up, kicking the sheet away. That's when he sees another body lying sprawled next to him.

And it's his little brother. Only six years too old, with scars and tattoos marring his body, and the blood of several men on his hands.

Sean didn't hear him return in the night, and the thin stripes of light seeping through the boards on the window suggest it must be around noon already.

Daniel stirs and blinks his eyes open, his sleep disturbed by Sean moving around. And Sean wants to put some distance between them to clear his head, but it's too late because Daniel takes a quick note of his state and sits up as well, putting a hand on his shoulder and trapping him in place.

"Hey... Another bad dream?" he asks, studying Sean's face. His brows furrow in concern. Sean gives him a stiff nod, wishing he could just stand up and leave. "It's okay. I'm right here," Daniel says softly and Sean doesn't have the heart to push him away.

But then Daniel tries to pull him into a hug and the sense of wrongness takes over everything else. Sean squirms from under his hand and rolls out of bed.

"I'm fine, I- I think I need some air. I'll go for a run," he mumbles, putting on his shoes in a hurry. The mattress squeaks as Daniel stands up too.

"I'll come with you," he says and Sean stops, already at the door.

"Dude, no. I just-" Want some space, he wants to say, feeling the beginning of a headache, but Daniel interrupts him.

"You shouldn't go alone. It's not safe yet," he explains, putting on his shoes as well and stretching when he straightens up. "After today it will be though."

Sean doesn't like the sound of that. "What happens today?"

Daniel stares at him silently for a long minute. Then says, "I'll finish what I started, and when I'm done nobody will dare to give us trouble anymore."

Sean doesn't say anything, even as his head spins with the implications of that statement and the brutal reality of it all.

This Daniel never was the brother he was meant to care for and protect. And although Sean thought he could accept it and move on with how things turned out in the end, with each passing day he sees that he cannot. Because he cannot stop thinking about his Daniel, the ten-year-old boy he left alone and never even tried to come back to.

The day goes by in a daze and Sean moves around sluggishly, struggling to function with a strong headache that builds in his temples and settles behind his eyes. But in the evening, when Daniel is cooking dinner downstairs, having insisted that Sean should leave it to him this time and rest, the headache subsides and his mind becomes so clear Sean finally knows what he has to do.

He pulls out his old backpack from the wardrobe and packs it quickly, taking the essentials and zipping it up in a couple of minutes. He can't let himself stall any longer, he's been doing it for two whole months. However, before walking out he remembers about the sketchbook, the one that belonged to his other self.

Sean comes to the table and opens it on a new empty page, grabs a pen and writes, 'I'm sorry, Daniel. He needs me. I have to go.' Then he takes off the necklace Daniel gave him, the golden coin gleaming weakly in the pale light of the lamp, and closes the book after putting it inside.

The footsteps from the hallway announce Daniel's arrival as well as the soft clinks of plates and his voice that goes, "Okay, so it may not be perfect but I think I got Dad's recipe right, or, well, I don't know about 'right', but at least I didn't burn it so-" He enters the room and cuts himself off, catching sight of Sean, all set to go and with a solemn guilty expression that is impossible to misinterpret. "What are you doing?" he asks as his eyes dart from the sketchbook behind Sean's back to the backpack in his hand.

"I'm going back, Daniel," Sean says, hoarse and quiet.

The plates that were supported by Daniel's power plummet to the hardwood floor and shatter, smearing it with red sauce. Sean jumps at the sound but squares his shoulders and adds, "I'm doing this, and I have no idea if I'll be able to go back the same way I got here but- I won't forgive myself if I never try."

Daniel's features darken. "Are you fucking serious?" he asks lowly, eyes boring into Sean.

Sean clenches his fingers around the strap of the backpack and suppresses the desire to lower his gaze to escape Daniel's. He knew it would be hard to tell Daniel that he's leaving, but he can't show any sign of weakness right now.

"Yes. I've made my decision."

"To stay, with me! Even after you-" Daniel doesn't finish and his expression flashes with raw hurt, which feels like a kick to the stomach. Then it becomes replaced with anger. "I should've never told you everything." He shakes his head as he says that, regret visible in his every move. "Should've burned this fucking thing," he rasps and lifts his hand.

Sean barely has time to comprehend what he means when the sketchbook he left on the table flies into Daniel's waiting palm. He squeezes the old cover, and it starts to crease and bend, but before it gets torn to pieces the necklace Sean put there slips out and falls to the floor. Daniel catches it in the last second, dropping the sketchbook instead.

The golden pendant floats back up slowly. Sean watches it without blinking until it reaches Daniel's hand and lands into it. Then he glances at Daniel's face and gets struck by the look of utter betrayal he is now wearing, studying the rejected present with a blank stare.

And for a moment all Sean wants is to apologise, to backtrack on this and tell his brother, because he still is his brother, that he doesn't mean this and that he'll stay. But then he remembers the ten-year-old boy who must be waiting for him, scared and alone, and he steels himself.

"I need to do this, Daniel," he says, taking the few steps to the door and stopping when Daniel doesn't budge. "You have to let me go."

Tense silence settles in the room, and for a while the only thing Sean can hear is his heart pumping blood at immense speed. That's why Daniel's whispered words come like thunder.

"No. No fucking way." He grips the pendant with so much force Sean almost expects it to break and fixes Sean with a sharp glare. "I'm not losing you again. Not like this."

Sean doesn't have the chance to think of a reply because his body gets paralyzed by Daniel's power and the backpack he's holding is yanked from his uncooperative fingers.

"Daniel!" he chokes out, finding it difficult to breathe, either from the strength of Daniel's hold, or simply because he's beginning to panic. "Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, Sean." His feet rise off the ground and Sean's insides twist in horror as he recalls the hapless thugs who were treated in the same fashion before getting their necks broken. "I can't."

Daniel's tone sends a chill down Sean's spine and makes him want to scream at him to knock it off already. And then he's thrown across the room like a ragdoll, landing on the bed and hitting his head against the headboard. The fall leaves him gasping for breath and groaning in pain, but when he gets his bearings he sees Daniel pocketing the key from the room. The only key.

Their eyes meet and Sean understands what Daniel has in mind before he even touches the door handle.

"No," Sean croaks, hurrying to get up. "Daniel, stop this! Don't-" His shout is cut off when Daniel knocks him on his back again. He growls in frustration, pissed off and irritatingly helpless to do anything about it.

"Just stay where you are," sounds like a warning, but Sean's so wound-up he doesn't care anymore.

"Or what? You gonna lock me up? Keep me here against my will?" he demands in a shaky voice. "You think it's gonna work?"

Daniel doesn't respond and Sean makes another move to stand up.

He can't.

His arms are free but everything below his chest feels as if it were put under a heavy press. Sean grips the sheets with both hands, mindless of his cast that makes it harder, and tries to pull himself up.

It's no use.

His breath becomes ragged in seconds as he thrashes in place. It doesn't change anything aside from the rate of his heartbeat that seems to leap into his throat with every thud and won't let him take a proper inhale.

He stops breathing altogether, however, when the invisible grip on his legs begins to tighten. Blood drains from his face at the terrifying assumption.

Is Daniel seriously considering breaking his legs?

Sean searches his expression for any signs of doubt or hesitation, but all he finds is cold determination and detached resolve.

"Enano, don't," he pleads, the compression around his shins and thighs getting borderline painful. And it works. Daniel blinks and looks at him like he's seeing him for the first time. The pressure gets weaker but doesn't immediately disappear, so Sean goes on, "I know you're not like this. I know you won't hurt me. Please." His voice hitches as he speaks. "Don't do this to me."

Daniel's eyes flash wetly and he wipes them with a trembling hand.

"I don't want to hurt you." He shakes his head, crestfallen. "And I don't want to lock you up." His mouth twists as if the words taste bitter on his tongue. "But you leave me no choice."

And he walks out, slamming the door shut. The second it closes Sean's legs are free. He doesn't pause to get his breathing under control and rushes towards it as fast as he can.

He pulls at the door handle but in that exact moment the key turns with an unapologetic click, locking him inside.

"No!" Sean hits the door with all his might, bringing more damage to his still healing bones than the old solid wood. He barely feels it. "Daniel, open it! Now!"

He presses his ear to the door to hear Daniel rush down the stairs and out of the house, and seethes in silent anger and frustration. Then he sinks down to the floor, resting his forehead against the closest cool surface, and shakes with dry sobs as the stress of the last several minutes catches up with him.

Sean doesn't know how long he sits there, curled in on himself and refusing to believe in what has just happened, what Daniel was about to do. Sean's legs don't hurt exactly but he can easily imagine how painful it would've been to have them broken.

'I need to get out of here,' burns in his brain and when his unfocused gaze falls on the smashed plates lying in a red mess beside him it pushes him into action.

He stands up and tries the door once more, but it doesn't move an inch so he turns around and studies the room critically. His backpack is gone, and with it his fake papers and what money he put away from his meagre earnings. It might not have been much but he was counting on it to get him to the border and beyond it, to Away.

It sucks that he hasn't replaced his broken phone. Without it he can't call Karen who could probably help him. Then again, Sean has no idea how Daniel will react to her showing up uninvited. The only time he asked him why they didn't keep in touch he brushed him off with an abrupt, "She's part of the past I don't want back."

Sean curses under his breath and walks to the wardrobe. Rummaging through its remaining contents he comes across the gun Daniel brought here. Sean never saw him take it with him though. And he remembers why. No bullet can get him, he saw it with his own eyes. So Sean puts the gun back on the shelf.

It won't do shit against his brother if it ever comes to that. Besides, the idea of drawing a gun on Daniel, even in the direst circumstances, makes Sean physically ill. He'd never be able to pull the trigger.

He could use it to try and get the door open, however. The thought lifts him up for all but a few seconds that it takes to grab the gun again and check the safety, as well as the magazine that turns out to be empty.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He throws it on the bed in exasperation.

Looks like the boarded window and door to the balcony are his only way out. All he needs is to pry those boards off somehow. There are no proper tools in the room, because of course there aren't. What could remotely be fit for the task are the shards on the floor.

Sean eyes them wearily, hesitating, then thinks, 'Fuck it!' and crouches down to pick the largest one.

The boards don't go without a fight, and in the next thirty minutes Sean picks at them with the sharp ceramic piece that slides from his left hand several times, cutting a few gashes into his palm. Sean grits his teeth and ignores the sticky bloody mess, determined to make an opening big enough for him to squeeze through. At one point when he's pulling a loosened board off one side of the window frame his fingers slip and his thumbnail catches on the nail that's still lodged in the stubborn wood.

The pain that washes over him is so intense he bites his tongue to muffle his scream. More blood is dripping down and when he brings his hand to the light to inspect it, blinking a film of tears away, he discovers with a bout of nausea that his nail has cracked in the middle and half of it is grotesquely sticking up from the flaming raw skin underneath.

"Son of a bitch," Sean whines, gnawing at his lip and pressing the severed nail down, hoping that it'll stay there. After another short wave of agony the unpleasantness of it becomes more or less bearable, fading to a dull throb that Sean can push to the back of his consciousness, and he continues, careful not to put any unnecessary pressure on the thumb.

Luckily, several hard tugs on the boards do the trick and they come off with loud creaks and groans. Fresh night air feels startlingly pleasant on Sean's sweaty skin and he takes deep breaths to cool down and calm his madly beating heart.

The never-ending rustle of the waves reaches him here and reminds him of the ocean mere feet away, so old, and vast and absolutely indifferent to people's daily struggles. It grounds him somewhat.

Suddenly the peaceful atmosphere is disturbed by a distant rumble, followed by multiple muffled screams that are carried by the wind. Sean shudders, involuntary thinking that it must be Daniel's doing. And suppressing the worry for his little brother that instinctively rises in him next.

Sean glances back to take in the room one last time, then climbs out of the window onto the dirty balcony, littered with some unidentifiable junk and several inches of sand. He walks slowly to the edge where the railing is missing and sits, hoping that the drop down isn't too steep because he can hardly rely on his depth perception to tell. Even if it is, there's sand below too, so his landing shouldn't be that bad, right?

He starts regretting it the moment he shimmies off the balcony floor and finds himself in a free fall for longer than he anticipated. Then his feet touch the ground and his knees follow suit, hitting it hard. Sean automatically brings up his hands, but still ends up planting his face into the cool sand. He coughs and spits it out of his mouth, moving slowly and praying that he didn't break anything.

He didn't. But his joy quickly dissipates when he remembers that he has nothing on him. No documents, no money, no phone.

Maybe he could go to Manu, ask him for a favour, or more like a dozen. Only Manu appears to be one of Daniel's closest pals here. What if he doesn't let Sean leave, or tells Daniel that he left before he can get far enough?

Then there's Jorge, who lives at the same building where his repair shop is, which is pretty close. Only would Jorge really want to help him and risk getting on Daniel's bad side? Now that Sean thinks back to all of his interactions with his brother he sees clearly that the poor man was scared to displease Daniel so much he made an effort to play nice with Sean.

And although he often got on his nerves Sean wouldn't want to put him in potential danger.

But if Jorge can't help Sean himself what he has at his place probably could. Sean perks up at the idea, walks around the house and goes up the road with a new purpose.

A week or so after he started working for the grumpy mechanic Daniel suggested that they leave David's car at the repair shop for the time being, and Jorge didn't dare argue about that. So the car has been parked behind it ever since. And now Sean will take it back, even though he has no keys and will have to hot-wire it.

The plan in itself is nice and simple, so Sean focuses on the familiar steps rather than what he is going to do when he hits the road.

Which is why he completely forgets to check if the gas tank is full before driving out of Puerto Lobos as fast as the old thing allows.

The wind blows through the window Sean had to break to get inside and messes up his hair but he doesn't notice, watching the road intently. Illuminated by the headlights it seems to be materialising out of thin air before him because beyond those two yellow beams the darkness is completely impenetrable. And it might be dangerous but Sean also finds it soothing.

However, with the lull of the fast ride come heavy thoughts that make him doubt his decision.

Is he perhaps making a big mistake by choosing his ten-year-old brother over this, much older and much more damaged Daniel whose trust he gained by promising to stay? He wants to believe that going back to his own reality would prevent this one from coming into being, but what if he's wrong? What if by leaving he is simply acting like a cowardly selfish asshole who is too weak to stand by the person who has experienced twice as much grief as he ever had?

The road stretches on and on, as endless as Sean's grim musings. And every now and then Daniel's betrayed expression flashes in his memory, making his eye sting and fill with tears.

He misses the frantic blinking of the fuel pump indicator until it's too late and the truck slows down to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Apparently it has been going on fumes for the past several miles. The realisation sends Sean into a panic mode and he wants to yell at himself for being so fucking stupid, but his throat feels constricted, as though a hand were holding it tight, not letting him breathe.

He kicks open the door and tumbles out onto the empty road. The blood on his hands has dried and when he sits on the dirty asphalt and drags them over his face they seem to be stained black. Or at least that's what it looks like to him in the sickly yellow light.

It was all pointless in the end. He hasn't even reached the highway that goes to the border. Puerto Lobos itself doesn't want to let him go.

And maybe Sean was a fool to think that he can leave. Maybe this is where he was meant to be from the very beginning. Maybe this is his destiny.

He crawls onto his knees, then rises to his feet and wobbles unsteadily to the hood of the car, climbing onto it and lying down. He's tired, so so tired of it all. Of trying to do the right thing, of running from all kinds of dangers, and especially from his past. He needs a break. Some place where he wouldn't be the older brother of Daniel Diaz, but just Sean, a boy from Seattle who loves to draw and hasn't found his path in life yet.

He wants to be searching for that, instead of being torn between two equally bad options.

There is one thing he can't deny though. The sky here is beautiful. So vast and full of stars. They are brighter than he remembers them in Arizona. And brighter than they were in Oregon, on a clear winter night.

Sean peers up with quiet longing. The sky whispers of freedom and so many opportunities neither he, nor Daniel here are ever going to have. It is simply not fair.

The headlights dim and gradually go out as the battery dies, and Sean finds himself perfectly unbothered by it. The night slowly melts away though, with the first inklings of dawn turning the horizon murky grey.

It's then that he hears a car going down the road, the first one in the hour he spent on the same spot. It's coming from Puerto Lobos, and is rapidly getting closer. Sean sits up, feeling a sliver of hope that whoever is driving might give him some gas, or a ride, or maybe a phone so that he can call Karen and figure things out from here. He hops off the hood in time to see the car pull into the curb without him even doing anything to make it stop.

The door on the driver's side opens and Sean's heart thuds painfully against his rib cage.

Because it's Daniel.

His clothes are dusty and splattered with something dark, which makes Sean's scrutinising gaze jump up and focus on his face instead. And it's so frantic and full of hope Sean feels bad for taking a step back when he comes too close.

Daniel's expression turns wounded but he doesn't go any further.

"Sean," he says, voice thick with emotion. "Please, stay."

And a few hours ago Sean's reply would've been short and quick, but as he watches his brother waiting for it with growing desperation, he questions his choice once again. Meanwhile, Daniel continues, obviously interpreting Sean's silence as refusal.

"I know I can't make you, and I hate myself for trying to force you," he looks to the side, breaking eye contact for a second, then looks at Sean directly again. "I understand why you want to leave, but please, don't do it like this."

His gaze travels down to Sean's hands smeared with dry blood and Sean has a strong desire to hide them from his view.

"At least-" Daniel furiously rubs the wetness off his cheeks and seems to make up his mind about something. "If you go, let me come with you."

Sean stares at him, taken aback by the fact that he never thought of it that way.

Maybe he doesn't even have to make the choice? Because if Daniel comes with him-

"I won't follow you to your… reality, but let me take you to the canyon myself."

"What?" This doesn't make any sense. "Why don't you-?"

"It's no place for me," Daniel shakes his head. "I cut all ties with that country, back on the border."

The weight of those words lingers and Sean makes no attempt to convince him, although everything in him screams that he should. He frowns.

"What will you do then, after we get there?"

Daniel doesn't answer for a long while, his eyes roaming over Sean's features, as if to carve them into memory. Sean can't tell what is going through his head but it obviously brings him suffering. He can't stand seeing him like this.

So he shuts off all common sense that alarms him to the proximity of 'danger' and walks up to his brother, raising his left hand to put it on his shoulder. But it freezes halfway.

"Daniel?" The soft grasp of telekinesis, which is a stark contrast to the brutal grip Sean experienced on his legs earlier, turns Sean's hand palm-up and holds it like this as Daniel pulls something out of his pocket.

It's the necklace that Sean was determined to leave behind, convinced that it belonged to this reality and he didn't. Seeing Daniel place it gently on his palm, careful not to graze the cuts, makes him realise what a dick move that was.

"You don't really know if it will work, going into that cave, right?" Daniel asks him softly. Sean shakes his head. "Then I'll be waiting for you, in case you return."

Sean feels Daniel's power retract from around his hand and closes his fingers over the golden pendant. He won't part with it if that's what Daniel asks of him without actually saying it out loud. Then Daniel's promise registers in Sean's head and his chest tightens.

"And what if it works and I-" never return stays unspoken. But Daniel gets it.

His eyes become distant, holding a strange, steely glint that speaks of something dark, desperate and irreversible, and Daniel says, "Then nothing will matter anymore."

Sean doesn't clarify if it's 'to you' or 'to me'. There is no need, since it's all written in the way Daniel looks at him then.

And Sean knows, deep in his heart, that he isn't leaving his brother. Not now, not ever. Not at such cost.

He glances at the pendant that has his name etched into gold, unfolds the thin chain and puts it around his neck, where it truly belongs.

Daniel watches him with open wonder. Sean takes him by the hand, squeezing it to reassure him.

"Let's go home," he says.

And they do. Climb into the car that Daniel drove here, make a u-turn on the road and go back to Puerto Lobos, the way ahead of them bright and clear in the light of the rising sun.