BABY JUDE??? SNIPER'S OFFSPRING THE THIRD INSTALLATION???? THIS IS A TRILOGY????
SPILL 👏 THE 👏 BEANS
Please
“The Third Installation” Twinky I absolutely LOVE that and I think it should be used for all of the Bad Batch babies from here on out (especially regarding Hunter’s bunch XD) jfjdjdhd thank you for your enthusiasm on sir baby Jude.
Although you do not want me to spill all the beans, some of the beans are kind of sad, some of them are tragic even.
But yes, Crosshair has a third bebo and he is precious.🥰😩
Request: It was kinda requested but also I needed to write it. Don’t worry, the relationship isn’t in the past, it’s just written from your perspective looking back on the time you and Spike finally get together
Warning: Set in LA, not central to the story. Reader gets injured. Like one swear. Bit of fighting.
A/N: Had a real blast writing these parts, hope you enjoy the final instalment !! The time jumps are very erratic throughout the three parts, but I’m pretty sure it makes sense (pls tell me if it doesn’t) 💜
The prophetic dream you had about your possible romance with spike was years ago and you were amazed at how different your life was now. You and Spike had found each other through a lot of what Sunnydale, and now LA, had thrown at you. Somehow, you always managed to find each other. You loved him with every fibre of your being and you knew he felt exactly the same. Not just because he told you this constantly.
You were now lying in bed beside Spike in your shared apartment. Spike was lying on his front, his arms hugging the pillow he was lying on. His head comfortably resting in the position. You had woken only moments before and had a hand on the cold skin of his back. You started to rub his back softly – tracing along his pale skin. Hoping he would feel it in his dreams.
His eyes were closed and he was completely still – he didn’t breathe when he was sleeping and it sometimes worried you for a split second before you reminded yourself that he never needed to breath.
You started to remember the way you had pined longingly for this kind of relationship with Spike. You had been addicted to his love long before you had even received the full extent of it. You had wanted to have all of him. To hold him against you and tell him how much you loved him. You still remember the dull pang of want that coursed through you every time you saw him. In public. In private. In your dreams. You could never escape him, and you never wanted to. You wanted more.
You smiled at the feeling now, but you had ached for him at the time. You continued to watch him as you lay on your side, slowly tracing your hand back along the length of his back. Lost in your thoughts of him. It was always him.
“You’re staring, love” his voice cutting through the misty nostalgia of how it had been before you had admitted your feelings to each other.
“I’m not! I was waking up and you were in my line of sight”
“Y’know it’s usually the dark and highly attractive monster doin’ the staring” He offered, his voice still slightly raspy from sleep. His eyes were still closed as he spoke, he was still trying to wake up properly. He took your silence as an invitation to continue his own conversation, “Alright, pet, whatever it is that makes you sleep at night”
“I don’t sleep at night. I sleep with you, in the day”
“Oh give over with your accusin’ and your eyebrow raisin’ – you love me” he smouldered. When he opened one eye to check your expression and smirked into the kiss that you landed on his lips.
“Yeah. I really do” You confirmed when your lips left his.
After a few more kisses of encouragement, he managed to wake himself up a little. His stomach gurgled and he decided he should get up properly. “Usual, love?” he offered and you grinned and nodded. Spike treated you very well. You never questioned his intent or the way that he cared for you. It was the little things sometimes, like making your favourite hot drink while he warmed his blood and bringing it to you so you could share your warm drinks and talk before you had to think about getting ready and going to help Angel with whatever it was that was going on now.
Your mind cast back once more to the way things had been for you both in Sunnydale, the way you had used to trade insults and occasionally threats. You would never change how things were now. Spike had improved your life in a way that you could only have dreamed.
Spike pulled the sheet before sliding off the bed and started to move towards the door. He didn’t bother to put any clothes on, much to your continued delight since he had become corporeal again and you had moved in together. You had found a cosy apartment with glass that allowed him to feel the sun now you lived in LA. You were staring at his body, one you had enjoyed being able to hold to you. Touch so intimately. Your mind kept casting back to the days and long nights you spent longing for him to be sharing a bed with you. Kissing your lips or just laying beside you. You now woke up to the image you had hung on to so hopelessly.
Spike turned back once he got to the doorway, squinted at you as he couldn’t quite read your look. He just smirked and winked, expecting that you were enjoying the view. Which of course, you were. But before you could focus on enjoying your relationship, your mind was on the past once more.
You blinked and you were back. You knew it as soon as you looked around your old bedroom in Sunnydale. One that had long since gone. Crumbled into nothing with the rest of the town you had once called home.
You took your jacket, pulled it on and walked straight to the Bronze. You remember this time of your life. You and Spike had still been skirting around your feelings and relied on ‘meeting by chance’ at the Bronze or in cemeteries. You were friends, of sorts, until the next time he upset one of your friends - which you were still half-expecting during this time in your life.
You were now staring into your cup, you had been here for hours. It had been a task shrugging the many unwanted advances throughout the night. Because they weren’t him. None of them could ever be him. He ignited something inside of you. He drew you in and captivated your every thought. Your every emotion. You missed him when you didn’t dream of him and not seeing him here made it worse.
You had desperately hoped to see him there but he never showed. You eventually left, walking yourself home alone. It was dark, but this didn’t phase you. You were used to patrolling with Buffy - making sure she wasn’t out by herself so often. You did worry about her. A chill started to run through your entire body, the hairs starting to raise on your neck. You weren’t alone here. You wrapped your jacket around you tighter, took your stake out and carried on walking. Suddenly you were grabbed from behind, your heartrate sped up. Your adrenaline pumping. Someone was hauling you backwards towards an alleyway. Someone was pressing their hand over your mouth to try and stop your scream. But you didn’t scream. You bit down. Hard.
“Ow! Bloody hell! That’s a damned cheek – biting the vamp that can’t bite. Bloody inconsiderate b-” he started, trying to lower his voice as he remembered why he had done it in the first place. He gestured for you to move into the alley a little more, concealing both of you from any onlookers.
“You grabbed me like some kind of serial killer!” You hissed back, “What was I supposed to do just wait for you to kill me?!” raising your voice at the end. He moved in to cover your mouth again but you raised your eyebrows and pointed a warning that he better not step towards you and do that again. He surrendered, rolled his eyes before launching into an explanation.
“Just – there’s something down there and I wanted to make sure you weren’t walkin’ in unawares”
“And you wanted someone to hide behind while I investigate?” You teased. He rolled his eyes and looked as if he wanted to say something but instead just gestured for you to follow him towards the fight. You both stopped abruptly as you arrived on the scene of the chaos.
“See?” He asked, glancing to you and then having to do a double take when he realised you hadn’t even noticed the threat yet. You had only been looking at him. You managed to pry your eyes away for a moment to see that it was some kind of giant (not the big, friendly kind either). At least double your height and width. Maybe triple. His skin was grey and almost translucent. You could smell his terrible breath from where you were stood and he was now hollering at the top of his lungs. He had a large club that he was already swinging around in anticipation of a fight.
You and Spike both looked at each other and nodded. You would have to handle this before he started to rampage towards the Bronze - which appeared to be where he was heading. You fought hard, half hoping that Buffy might swing by and finish it off. But alas, she was dealing with her own vampire problem on the other side of Sunnydale. You hated it when there was more than one monster of the week, your group got stretched a little thin.
You were trying to help in your limited-to-human-strength way. You got some punches in and even a hard stare that you swore made the giant shiver. Or maybe quiver with range. He wasn’t much of a talker, so you weren’t sure which.
Spike immediately and continuously not only defended himself but you as well. He tried to keep the Giant’s attention on him by hurling insults as well as punches. He had put himself in harms way for you.
“Spike!” You screamed, “Behind you! Duck!” you pointed as Spike had been distracted by the giant lunging towards you but swinging his club at Spike from behind. He heard you, acting on your words. Trusting you on instinct.
Spike then swung at the beast but it threw him into you. Knocking you both down like skittles. Spike had been thrown so forcefully into you that you hadn’t had time to react. You had been sent crashing to the ground with your arm twisting wrong and connecting to the hard tarmac with an audible cracking sound. You hissed in pain, twisting out of the uncomfortable position but not being able to continue the fight.
This fuelled Spike’s anger, sending him into a frenzy. You sat on the floor, watching as Spike managed to hit the giant in the soft part of his skull on the back of his head - leaving him crashing to the ground. Rather than checking he had won - he turned straight back to you and ran towards you. he crouched beside you, his worry painted across his face.
“Shit, love. I’m so sorry – I didn’t- are you-?” Everything was running through his head at lightning speed. If he had just punched here or ducked there before spinning into that kick – maybe this wouldn’t have happened. He was already blaming himself and replaying the sickening crunch over in his mind until it almost knocked him sick. You hissed as you tried to move your hand and his eyes widened, “Is it broken? Is there a-anything that I can do?”
“Can you take me to the hospital?” He nodded and moved to support you. He then started to pick you up without making a sound. You opened your mouth – starting to say that you had hurt your wrist and that you could still walk. But you decided to keep your mouth shut. He hoisted you up so that you were sideways. One arm wrapped around your back and the other supporting your thighs. He had to balance you himself as you were cradling your arm rather than holding onto him.
You closed your eyes, trying to block out the pain and only focus on this moment. His strong hold was so comforting. You felt so safe in his presence. You inhaled, your nose filled with that familiar scent. It caressed you, comforted you. It reminded you of the dream. The safety and love you ached for. You wanted him close like this all of the time. You nestled into his chest, closing your eyes. You didn’t know if you would get a chance to feel this without being asleep again.
He closed his eyes briefly, savouring having you so close. Every so often he looked down at you as if he were enamoured by your very presence, this mingling with his growing concern for your arm. It physically hurt that he couldn’t offer you more comfort that he was currently giving you. He knew he didn’t need to carry you - he just wanted the excuse to hold you against him.
You had a fractured wrist and he was surprisingly sympathetic - even threatened a few doctors to ensure you had the best care. He walked you back home after the emergency room, shoving as many blood bags into his inside pocket as would fit. You didn’t once acknowledge how much either of you appreciated the others help. You were both concerned if you said it aloud that the other would insist it wasn’t even intentional. That they didn’t care. So you clung to the hope that it was out of concern.
You both kept glancing at the other Spike was the first to speak. He couldn’t stand it – the silence. The constant not knowing where he stood. He had to say something, a thought he had been having the entire walk.
“You… glow” He said, ever so softly. You weren’t sure your ears had heard correctly so you stopped walking, staring at him in confusion, “Uh, under the moonlight. You glow” He elaborated as your expression softened. You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to comment in case you had dreamt it. Wished too hard and started to hear things. You smiled softly instead and that was all he needed. He was adamant that he was going to prove to you he could be boyfriend material. Little did he know you already selected the fabric in his exact make and size. Willing the material to fit. And it would, like a glove.
He walked up to your apartment block with you, starting to light up. He would watch until he saw your light on and feel satisfied that you were safe. No zombie janitors or killer neighbours waiting on the stairwell. You turned, still cradling your arm as you opened your mouth to start to thank him, but he spoke first, “You gonna be okay?” He asked quietly.
“Yeah. But I’d probably feel better with a bit of company…” You hinted as his face lit up. He had been longing for something like this, something to tell him that his feelings weren’t one-sided. That these constant dreams weren’t filling his head with a reality that would never be there. He had craved for you in all hours of the day and night. Losing sleep over how good you felt. How love could be and how much he needed it to be with you. Just you. “Would you like to come in?”
He nodded. Looking around to check it wasn’t some kind of trap with your younger friends waiting to point at laugh at him for agreeing. there appeared to be no Scoobies in sight so he shrugged, throwing his cigarette and following you up into your apartment block. He kept you company until it was time for him to leave before the sun rose. He looked as if he didn’t want to go, but he had to. He opened his mouth to say something, anything but the words wouldn’t come.
That night your dreams had been so vivid. Kissing and whispering sweet nothings to each other. The gentle caress expressing feelings you longed to say out loud. In your waking moments. But you were scared. Both of you were terrified that if anything was said it would ruin the strange friendship you had created. To have the other in your life even fleetingly was better than not having them there at all through the heart breaking rejection that neither of you would ever recover from.
Unbeknownst to you both, you had shared this dream. Shared the bittersweet embrace as if it were the closest you would ever come to expressing your love for the other. Shared the affirmations of love. The crumbling disappointment once you both woke up and realised that once again, you were faced with a much harsher reality.
Your mind then forwarded to the moment everything was cemented in your mind. A moment so imprinted into your mind you needn’t relive it this way. You could retell it by heart.
You were in your kitchen, with Spike standing opposite you by counter. He smiled at you and you smiled back over your shoulder as you grabbed some things from your fridge. You hadn’t stopped thinking about the look he had given you when you invited him in. The way he had been so unassuming, so amazed that you would invite him in. Hadn’t expected it. His face brightened, although not changing any of the concern he had.
He had been visiting to check on you almost every evening after dark – never asking to come in, but always smirking and sauntering in as if he had used some vampire hustle to get himself an invite. When all he had done was be kind (and be the man of your dreams. Literally).
You spent a lot of time alone together. Catching his long, penetrating gaze. The ache never dulling now, not even when you were in each other’s company. You wanted to press your lips against his like in your dream. You wanted to feel his arms wrap around you they way they had that night. You wanted to say something, but the words had never surfaced.
He had insisted on doing things for you. Opening doors for you. Making you warm drinks. Finding you the best shows to watch together on tv. He was slowly proving to you in his eyes that he could be trusted. That he could even play nice with the Scoobies if you wanted him to.
You were still in your kitchen, your wrist had finally healed but Spike was still coming around and spending almost every evening with you regularly. You had been eagerly awaiting his arrival tonight. he no longer asked, just came in - he had a key now so why should he have to knock? You had taken two bottles of water out of your fridge and set them on the counter. You were going to take them with you on patrol. He didn’t necessarily need one, but that’s another thing he liked about you - you always had the courtesy to offer. So he always said yes.
Both reached for the same bottle of water at the same time. Your fingers brushed against each other. A spark. A sizzling thrum of electricity surging through you both. And you became overcome with it. You were his fully and unconditionally. And something in his eye told you he was thinking the same thing.
Time stopped. Both in the dream and waking world, that minute leading up to your first kiss would be owned by you forever. It was yours and Spike’s to claim. You had leaned in, your eyes confirming that this was all you wanted. All you ever wanted. Your intentions reflecting in his own eyes. He had never been so sure of anything in all of the decades he had been around. All he had ever wanted to surrender to was you.
Your lips met and everything connected into place. The kiss was the same you had experienced in the dream but magnified by a hundred. It wasn’t tentative or timid. It was an explosion. It had been building up for so long. A rollercoaster finally reaching its peak. The passion that had been threatening to spill during every interaction now igniting the room.
“I love you, y/n. I love you so much” He couldn’t help himself. He was drunk on you. He You pulled him closer, your lips replying with every movement. Neither of you had ever been more sure of anything and this was expressed as he pressed you against your kitchen counter. You were tongues and teeth. Desperate clinging to skin and hair. Removing clothes and hushed whispers. You began to explore each other’s bodies in what was now a well-travelled but ultimately exciting adventure every time.
You shook yourself out of your memories as Spike handed you the steaming mug. It was made exactly the way you liked it. You hugged your hands around it, clinging to the warmth as he stared at you a little to long. He sensed there was something on your mind. He waited, knowing you would talk about it eventually as he sat back, resting against the headboard and taking a large gulp of his blood. He pulled a face after he swallowed, he had gone overboard on the burbaweed again and it tasted a little too spicy. He then shrugged and took another gulp. No use wasting good blood. You moved up, bringing the covers up over you with one hand and balancing your mug as you moved to lean into Spike’s side.
“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
“’Course. Like a dream” he smiled, not revealing how true this really was. Neither of you had spoke about the intense and very real feeling dreams you had both experienced long since you had professed your feelings.
“It was a dream. I felt it before it happened” You said, frowning a little in thought. He had always found this expression cute on you, but this revelation meant it passed without comment.
“You- did you have the dreams too?” He asked, setting his cup down and turning to you. You nodded and he moved to wrap his arms around you further as you both thought over what this could mean. He kissed the top of your head from the position you were now curled into his side. You had both been in deep thought for a while until he spoke again.
“Suppose we should thank the Powers? Do a bit of saving the world?”
“Maybe later” You smiled, setting your cup down and reaching for his face. You landed an open-mouthed kiss, the softest you could muster. The meaning wasn’t lost on him, he wanted to savour every moment with you. Like it was your last.
He rolled over, so that he was now above you. He had started to kiss you so gently, feather-light brushes of his lips down your jaw and along your collarbone. he held you so tenderly, whispering his love repeatedly and punctuating it every time with a kiss. You slid your hands up his chest, one resting on his shoulder warmly as he continued to fill you up with his love. You had plans of ensuring the other felt everything they had longed for in those bleak, solitary periods after you both woke up. The lonely moments were no more. It may take at least the rest of the night at least. Saving the world would have to wait another 24 hours. this time was reserved for the two of you.
The world could wait, as could the Powers. This was a love for all of the ages.
The Rise of Skywalker proves it: we're saying goodbye to toxic, heteronormative relationships in 2019, and hello to polyamory and other fulfilling forms of queerness in 2020
I had an idea for a troll ask asking when tommy was gonna show up but I couldn't commit to it even when it made me laugh, so just insert ask here enthusing about your "Great SBI Dynamic" and "when will tommy get there?"
stressed i know that's you
please there is no SBI dynamic, there is no tommy, and if there was, he wouldn't be a main character.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/21
Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Original Male Character(s)
Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Maddie Buckley, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Athena Grant, Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parents, Evan "Buck" Buckley's Mother, Evan "Buck" Buckley's Father, Shannon Diaz, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Original Male Character(s)
Additional Tags: Drama, Drama & Romance, Angst and Drama, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired by Grey's Anatomy, Medical Jargon, Heavy Angst
Series: Part 3 of 911/Grey's Anatomy Crossover
Summary:
Sequel to Suppose, You'll Never Know & All That I Am, All That I Ever Was. After the events that took place on the night of the prom, the 118 and Maddie struggle to cope. Eddie and Buck face the consequences of their actions and what this means for their future relationship. Meanwhile, Maddie is forced to cope with the death of her boyfriend, and what her future in LA now holds for her.
A mix of canon except here it merges with Grey's Anatomy. There's no Grey's Anatomy characters here it's just all the 9-1-1 characters we know and love, they still have their exact same jobs, the grey's anatomy character storylines are simply mixed in with their own.
Jonny hasn’t come home yet, and it was already 12:30 am. Pat could only think of two places where he could be: the diner down the street, or the rink.
He grabbed the first hat he saw, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made his way to his Hummer. Fuck Jonny for making him get out of his warm, cozy bed, and fuck Jonny for being such a damn work-a-holic. Probably because they had the weekend off. Asshole.
It took him 10 minutes to pull into the parking lot of the United Center, the city traffic minimal on a holiday. He strolled into his home away from home, the regular way, metal detectors and all. He loved feeling like a fan - the anticipation as security scans your ticket, a monotone, “Enjoy the game,” muffled by the sounds of music blasting throughout the arena in front of you. People are rushing left and right, trying to get to their seats before warm-ups started. And then you see it, the ice, the blur of red jerseys on the ice. He remembers his first Buffalo game with his Grandpa, his jersey drowning his small frame. That seemed forever ago - now he was playing against guys like Crosby and Ovechkin and Malkin. Crazy how things change.
He pulled the hat lower on his ears - what kind of hat was this anyway, a beanie? - and took a seat in the dark arena, the only lights on pointing towards the ice. Jonny was alone, and Pat could see the little red marks on his forehead even from up high. He was working on sharp angle shots, working the puck around the net and shooting from the corners, a shot Pat doesn’t think he could ever rid his mind of: Toews! From the corner! How many score that goal?! Jonny hated tooting his own horn, but that goal was one Pat wouldn’t let him forget. It strangely mimicked his own goal from 2010, unknown to nobody else but Pat for those few short seconds. He savors that moment everyday, and Jonny should savor his too.
A sharp “damnit” rung suddenly throughout the empty arena, the sound of his stick slamming the ice when he missed his second attempt in a row. Pat stood up and made his way down the steps, bringing himself closer and closer to the ice. He could feel the cold now, refreshing against his face, rejuvenating almost. The ice always seemed to bring out something in Pat that nothing else could - besides Jonny, of course. As he got closer to ice level, he caught Jonny’s eye, raising an eyebrow as if to say: You’re not okay. Jonny skated over to the bench, leaning against it, breathing heavy and labored.
“Is that my hat?” is the first thing he decides to say, not why he’s at the UC close to 1 am, or why he didn’t text Pat that he was staying late.
“Have you been here since we got out of practice?” Pat asked, eyes zeroing in on Jonny’s tired face. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, staying up thinking about everything and anything. “But yes, this is your hat,” he said, giving into Jonny’s small smile.
“I like it on you. It covers it your ears and makes you look all cuddly,” Jonny said thoughtfully, using one hand to hold Pat’s face, rubbing his thumb over his flushed cheeks. “And, you have wind burn, by the way.”
“Not the answer I’m looking for, Toews,” Pat said, locking eyes with Jonny as he tore his gaze away from the fluffy ball on top of his head before he looked down at his skates.
“Yeah, I’ve been here, but I just wanted to get that shot down, I am so close, Kaner, SO close,” he said, voice small, like a child who just wants to please his parents.
“C’mon,” Pat said, swinging one leg over the side of the boards.
“What are you doing, you don’t even have skates on, Kaner,” Jonny said, grabbing Pat’s side so he wouldn’t fall on his ass. “Just trust me,” Pat said, shuffling across the ice towards the goal, pucks scattered all over the ice.
“You’re flicking your wrist too high up on your stick. Here,” Pat said, coming to stand next to Jonny, adjusting his gloves on his stick. Jonny had his eyes trained on Pat’s mouth though, the way his tongue peeks right out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. “There, now try it,” he said proudly, standing back to let Jonny do his thing. He tried a shot, and it went in, top shelf.
“How’d you know that, Kaner? You haven’t taken a shot like this in years,” Jonny said, coming to stand next to Pat. God, he was gorgeous.
“You we’re struggling. I just wanted to help out,” Pat said, his flush deepening, watching his thumbs twiddle around his fingers.
“Hey,” Jonny said, causing Pat to look up. “Thank you. Oh, and you can keep the hat. Wear it to the Winter Classic, or something,” Jonny said, a grin plastered to his face. “I love you, let’s go home.”
"This was a mistake" - Round 2: Electric Boogaloo: a conversation between Vivi and Arthur
The van was silent as they drove, the only sound the hum of the engine. Not even the radio was on. Constantine, the little ghost that hung from the rearview mirror, swung sadly on his string, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
Vivi sat in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around her middle, staring out of the side window. Mystery’s head was on her lap, the pup staring worriedly up at her. Arthur stared straight ahead, hands tight around Guinevere’s steering wheel. His face was a mixture of pain and relief and sadness and regret and fear.
And still the van was quiet as they drove at top speed away from the mansion, from the ghosts, from Lewis…
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t take this. Vivi needed to grieve properly, now that she knew. She needed to wrap her head around this, needed to think, needed to-
She jerked when the van swerved suddenly to the side of the road, head whipping around to Arthur as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Before them was a crossroad; one road led out of town, towards the highway. The other would take them to the next city over, where they could get a hotel for the night, take time to rest, to think…
“Arthur?”
“This was a mistake…”
Vivi blinked, Mystery looking over at him. Arthur was resting his head on the steering wheel, and Vivi could see that he was shaking.
“What was a mistake?”
Arthur didn’t answer.
“Arthur,” Mystery barked, eyes narrowed.
Like he’d been shocked, the blond shot up, jammed the gear shift into drive, and made a huge U-turn. As the tires screeched, jostling the inhabitants, Vivi blanched.
“What are you doing?!” she cried.
Arthur remained silent, pressing his foot further down on the gas pedal.
“Arthur!”
“You need to talk to him!” Arthur exclaimed.
Vivi felt her blood run cold. She didn’t need any other explanation, she knew what he was talking about. But she couldn’t, not until she thought about it.
In a wild panic, Vivi lurched forward and made a mad grab for the steering wheel, jostling Constantine. Arthur yelped and jerked the wheel, sending Mystery crashing into Vivi, sending them against the door.
“Hey!”
“Vivi, stop!”
“I can’t go back there!” she yelled. “I can’t! Arthur, I can’t, I-”
“You have to!” Arthur said. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “You need to! You need to make this right! Need to fix this!”
“Fix what?” Vivi asked.
Arthur was quiet for a second, and it was then that Vivi realized, the streetlights casting an eerie orange glow over his face, that Arthur was crying. She almost missed his response, mouth set in a thin line.
“Everything.”
Constantine swayed, back and forth, back and forth, and Vivi watched as the mansion slowly came back into view.
