A/N: This is a collection of drabbles. Some of these I may expand in to full stories later, some I won't, but all of them are Brotherhood related. These are just for fun, so I hope you enjoy them. Also, all of these are exactly 100 words according to my word count. It's not the most accurate way of doing things, but I'm not sure that 'to' should count as a full word so whatever.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one in here. They all belong to the great and powerful wizards of Marvel.

By: Reggie

When he looked around the room, Lance could relate to them all. Todd, growing up homeless with his mother until one day she simply vanished. Freddy, sold by his parents to the monster truck show. But, he hated to admit this; it was Pietro he could relate to the most. When Pietro told him, late one snowy night when everything but them was still, about his sister, and about his father leaving him when it looked like he had no powers, all Lance could remember was standing on the orphanage steps, crying for a mother who wouldn't even look back.

He didn't know why he'd hoped the Institute would be any different. Mystique had told them all about it, but he'd hoped that they might try for him. That maybe they'd see something in him worthwhile when no one else had. Maybe if they'd try they could see that he was smart, that he was funny, and above all that he was hungry and cold and wouldn't mind a shower if they cared enough to make him. They hadn't tried, not even a little. Like everyone else, like his mother, they had seen only his mutation...and left it at that.

Wanda had shown her powers early. At the age of 10 she had shown that, when in a rage, she could alter reality. She had melted pots, evaporated bath water, destroyed her treasured toys, and broken thousands of things at a store when she hadn't had her way. In her worst fit, she'd taken everything they loved from both of them. A wave of fire and screaming that had ultimately taken both parents from him. She'd been locked away for it, abandoned because of her power. Pietro thought it was ironic that he was abandoned for the exact opposite reason.

Wanda blamed her father because she could not remember. Could not remember the rage that had consumed her when he turned away from her after she had failed one of his impossible exams. Could not remember the fire that had sprung from no where around her. Could not remember her brother, frightened, powerless, and trapped. Could not remember their mother's screams as she burned alive trying to save him. She could remember none of this because she had broken then, and because she could not remember she blamed Magneto. But Pietro…Pietro could remember all of it, and Pietro blamed her.

The worst part wasn't what they'd done, exactly. It wasn't when the huge guys showed up with chains that bound his wrists. It wasn't when they dragged him backwards out the door, down the side walk so his chubby knees got scrapped up under his too-short shorts and his too small tank top slid halfway up his chest. It wasn't even when his uncle opened the door of the SUV for him to be thrown in to. It was that his parents just stood there on the steps of their run down RV, laughing at the tears on his face.