Author: Kat Lee
Dedicated To: My beloved Drew, who wanted something Brendan/Prue in time for Halloween (Here you go, my darling. I promise I'll do more on that series once I can get all my files together and we can figure out exactly what's been written and what hasn't. I love you!!! Happy Halloween, and Happy Anniversary, my love!!!)
Character/Pairing: Pre-OMC Brendan/Prue, OCs
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Halloween Bingo: Full Moon
Word Count: 1,926
Date Written: 30 October 2017
Disclaimer: This one's mine except for the mentions of the various members of the Halliwell family, who all belong to Spelling Entertainment and are used without permission.
He’s hidden all day. He knows there’ll be trouble when his family finally finds him. He knows they’ll be furious that he’s been away all day, especially if they figure out that even locking him out of the house last night in the deadly, silver moonlight of the full moon failed to make him kill something -- or at least he doesn’t remember killing anything. There is no blood on his hands, no mangled bodies beneath him. He doesn’t remember any blood curdling screams from last night, but then he always remembers very little from any of his times as a wolf.
Not as a real wolf, anyway. They’ve told him countless times that he is always a wolf, that it is this human form he currently wears that is not natural, but he refuses to believe them. The Werewolf is a curse, one he may not be able to fight, especially on full moon nights, but one that is still not natural. He’ll never willingly be a wolf; he’ll never willingly kill.
He’s lain all day in hiding and listened to laughing children and their doting parents. He’s listened to the world of which he longs to be a part, the very world his family always tells him will never be his. For today, for a short while, it was, even if they didn’t know him. Had they seen him, they might have screamed. They might also have tried to send for help for he’s only a boy, a small, naked body lost out here in the big city.
When he’s certain there is nobody left in the playground, he slips out from underneath the bushes and crawls over to the pool. He grabs the side of it and holds it to pull himself up. He stares down into the face of a human body, a tired, scared, lonely human boy, his face, but not the one his parents would have him believe is his true face. It’s just a mask, they’d say, a mask that doesn’t belong on your face, one they rip into it so often just to make his other face, the wrong one, he knows, come out.
He trembles in the chilly wind, thinking about what will come when they find him. He hears familiar laughter suddenly and looks back up, but the other children aren’t returning. They’re gone for the day with other things to do that he’ll never get to do and loving families of their own of which he’ll never be a part. Big tears fill his eyes. His chin trembles. A howl erupts from him.
Suddenly, something warm and soft surrounds him. He looks up, and there’s a woman standing behind him. She’s every bit as lovely as the child who he enjoyed watching the most today, but she’s a grown woman. She’s not frowning at him, though, or worrying him with questions. She only holds him, hugs him even, while gazing into the reflection of his tear-filled eyes.
“Wh-Who are you?” he whispers.
“My name is Ola,” the kind stranger answers, “and I know who yoo are. Yoo are the boy born to break your family’s curse.”
“What?” he questions, uncertain he’s heard correctly.
She smiles down at his reflection. She really is the kindest, prettiest grown up he’s ever met. “Yoo will break your family’s curse, Brendan, when the time is right. Why not come with me now?” she offers softly. “Stop their reign of abuse. Free yourself. Come with me.”
“I can’t come with you!” He growls suddenly as he pushes away from her. He clasps both hands over his mouth. That horrible sound had come out of him!
But Ola just smiles gently at him, kneeling before him by the pool. He vaguely remembers hearing her voice earlier today. She spoke with the mother of the girl he enjoyed watching so, the beautiful, joyful child who had clearly loved her sisters so much as she’d watched over them while her mother had spent at least a long time talking with this woman. “You . . . “ he speaks nervously, uncertainly, slowly lowering his hands from around his mouth. “You’re Ola! The doctor lady! You spoke with Prue’s mommy today!”
“I did,” she says, her gentle smile unwavering before him and still seeming so very, very kind. “Patty is one of my dearest friends, and I suspect her daughters will join that list when they are of age. Just as I suspect yoo rather liked watching little Prudence today.”
Brendan blushes as red as the cape Ola allowed him to take from her hands and keep around his small, trembling body. “I -- I -- “
“It’s all right.” Still, her smile does not waver. Still, she seems so very kind. “She’d like you too, and she will when the time is right.”
“Really? Who will like our boy?”
Another howl escapes Brendan. He clasps his hands over his mouth, this time completely dropping Ola’s warm, red cape. She hurries to his side, unafraid of the Werewolves who are edging into the park, growling. It takes a very bold monster indeed to step out into the broad daylight, but these Werewolves have a simple answer for any mortal who sees them: They’ll eat every one of them. Unlike most of the Werewolves Ola has known, they are truly terrible beasts.
Nonetheless, she kneels again beside Brendan and wraps the quivering boy back in her cloak. “It’s okay, Brendan. Yoo don’t have to go with them. I can keep yoo safe.”
“No,” he says, his small, sad voice breaking into a whimper. He shakes his head. “No, you can’t.”
“Oui, I can.”
“Listen to the boy, Fairy,” growls Brendan’s mother, unsheathing her nasty, yellow claws. “Save a life.”
Her oldest boy laughs behind her, but it’s a terrible sound. Completely lacking of joy, it rings sinisterly instead throughout the park. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Your own.”
“Mom,” asks one of Brendan’s sisters, “why’d you call her a Fairy?”
“Can’t you smell it on her?” growls her older sister. “She reeks of it. Damn goody two shoes!”
“No, Lupine!” Brendan’s father grasps his sister with a massive paw just as the girl is about to charge pass him.
“But I can take her!”
“I don’t doubt you can, but taking that bitch will break out a full war not just through San Francisco but all across the world! We can’t mess with her unless,” he adds, growling, “she makes it worth our while! Refuse to let us have our boy, LaBelle, and we’ll kill you on the spot!”
Ola tenses. She wants nothing more than to grab Brendan and run away with him, but she doesn’t have the power to fight all these Werewolves, not yet. She can keep Brendan safe if he agrees to come with her, but she can not force his decision. She also can not fight the wolves, and her very best protection spell will only work on the willing. Sooner or later, probably sooner, she judges from this child’s valiant heart, he’ll break and run to his parents, begging them to spare her and take him instead. He needs less tragedy in his young life -- they all do, really --, not more.
“Why don’t we let him choose?” she snaps, her beautiful head held high and proud. She’s not afraid of the beasts. She’s not afraid to die. But she can’t save Brendan if she dies. If she dies -- when she goes from this world, she will be able to save no more Supernatural children at that time.
His father stares at her in disbelief, but his mother is quick to agree. “Sure.” She smiles, and invisible ice slides down Ola’s back. “Harry, let the boy choose. He can come with us, or he can watch his pretty, little protector die!”
“NO!” Brendan howls and runs forward, leaving Ola to hold the cape he’d worn for such a little space of time in the chilly, Samhain wind.
“‘Bout time, sport.” His big brother chuckles but grabs Brendan by his throat and lifts him from the ground.
“Keep it for the house, Junior,” his father growls.
Junior grumbles but releases Brendan, who trembles as he looks back at Ola’s big, sad eyes. “I -- I’m sorry -- “ he starts to apologize, but his father turns on him with a savage growl. He clasps his hand over Brendan’s little mouth, wraps his claws around his tiny neck, and lifts him from the ground. “Wolves never apologize!” he snarls. “Come on! We’ve still got to beat some lessons in you, brat!” He leaves the park, carrying his boy by his throat.
Brendan’s mother stands and looks back across the distance at Ola, who’s still on her knees. “You won’t end our family, LaBelle,” she growls, “ever! You’ll see: we’ll break him yet!”
It takes all of Ola’s courage to level her gaze at the mother of the pack. “Non,” she tells her softly, “you won’t. You’ll make the boy suffer endlessly. You’ll do your very best to beat him into becoming what you all are, but he will never be one of you. One day, he will join me and mine, and your reign of terror will come to an end.”
“NEVER!” the mother wolf screams.
Ola stands, clutching the red cape in her hand. “Go ahead,” she challenges, her head held high. “Take me. Beat me. Take me in his place, if you dare.”
The wolf narrows her enraged, yellow eyes at her.
“Of course, if Penny Halliwell never receives the call back I promised her -- “
“The war will start,” the mother wolf hisses.
“Precisely. How many of your brats are you ready to lose to keep punishing Brendan for not being one of yours?”
She growls, but after a long moment of staring the Immortal Fairy down, she finally turns and trods after her family. Ola shivers as she hears screams not five feet away. She’d run after them, but she knows it’s already too late. They’ve had their dinner for tonight, and more still will fall.
She sinks back onto her knees on the crisp, Autumn leaves, trembling not for herself but for those she failed to save. For all the magic she holds, it’s all good magic. It’s all defense or healing; she doesn’t know a single attack spell. She lifts her chin again determinedly, her baby blue eyes raising to the warm glow of the sun with tears in them.
Gripping the child’s cape, she wipes the tears from her eyes. One day, she will be the attacker, not simply the defendant. One day, she will learn. One day, Brendan will come to her -- just as, one day, he and Prue will be the perfect couple of soul mates they’re meant to be. She wasn’t able to save her own little brother, but one day, she will save all those who remain, wanting but not yet being able to be good.
“G-Gabriel?” she whispers. Turning her tearful face from the sun, Ola can barely make out the form of another young boy with dark hair and beautiful, soulful eyes. “Mon frère!” she cries, throwing open her arms. He walks into them, and after a long while of hugging, they walk together, hand in hand, on one more lonely All Hallow’s Eve. She wasn’t able to save him, Ola thinks again when Gabriel’s hand finally leaves her once more, but one day, she will save Brendan. He is the end to that wretched family, and she’ll be happy and proud to help the boy prove it -- all when he’s ready.