A/N: I haven't been writing lately, so I went through my files to see if I had anything stowed away. Sometimes I start writing something just to experiment with characters, and I found this. Soon as I'm back in the writing boat I'll finish this story up. Until then, hope you enjoy what I pulled out of the dust.

Also, updated my profile with some important stuff. -TPP


Tear It Up: Side Bonus Chapter


Grimmjow stared up at the sky from the park bench. He felt sweaty, clammy, jumpy.

He hated this dream. It always made him…he didn't know.

The anticipation of it was worse than the actual dream itself. He knew that, but he was helpless to get out of it.

So he waited on the park bench because that's where the conversation always happened. Every time.

Cigarettes materialized in Grimmjow's hand. He didn't remember picking them up, then again, it was a dream.

He stuck one to his lips, patting his pockets for a lighter.

A pale hand stuck out it's hand, upturning it's thumb like it was going to hitchhike. The thumb let out a blue flame, lighting Grimmjow's much-needed cigarette.

Grimmjow exhaled, his eyes finally dragging up to his beloved brother's face.

"Cuatro," Grimmjow breathed, slumped with his hands on his knees as his dead best friend took a seat on the bench next to him.

He looked exactly the same. Of course he did. He was dead. Maybe paler, a little too pale to look natural in the real world, but his eyes were the same incredible jade green.

"Hey, Grimm," he said, his voice soft.

It tore at Grimm's insides. He hated this. He hated feeling like he was real.

He hated himself.

Cuatro stared at him. Grimmjow couldn't meet his eyes. He finished his cigarette and flicked it away from himself.

"I dunno what you want me to say," Grimmjow began, the lines almost rehearsed. He'd probably had this dream as many times as he'd had the dream about the memory of Cuatro's burning death.

Sometimes he even dreamed he was in the car with him when it happened.

It should have been him. He should be the one dead, not his brother. Not his best friend.

This is where the dream got bad. This is where the black hole in his stomach started to spread, started to hurt. He hated it.

The pain wouldn't stop until Ulquiorra put his hand on Grimmjow's shoulder. Instant relief.

"You're an idiot," Cuatro said, lighting a cigarette for himself and leaning back on the bench, spreading his long legs out in front of him. He wasn't wearing any shoes, "It's been years, Grimm. This needs to stop."

"It's my own head, I can do whatever the fuck I want," Grimmjow growled, knowing he wasn't really talking to his dead best friend.

But sometimes, like now, he wondered if maybe he really was.

Ulquiorra snorted, blowing smoke in Grimmjow's face, "Sometimes I think I'm the one that's alive and you're the one that's dead. Not meant to work that way, hermano."

Grimmjow swallowed the lump in his throat. Ulquiorra had always been the calm, collected one. Anything he'd ever said had made sense. He'd never been rash.

"So why the fuck did you do it? Why did you go against me?" Grimmjow grunted, suddenly angry, really angry. The hole in his chest was getting bigger, eating at him. At this rate, the dream would be over really soon. It always ended when he was in the most pain.

"I was stubborn. I thought you were wrong. I thought I was better. There are a million reasons I could give you, but will any of them matter?"

"You shouldn't be dead."

"Neither should you," Ulquiorra said, poking him in the forehead like he was a brat little brother, "I'm NOT dead, Grimm. Not really. You guys keep me alive every day. Don't laugh, ass hole, you know it's true. You honor my memory. Shuhei still prays for my soul. Starrk visits my grave at least once a month. Nnoitra burns incense for me every new year. Even this Ichigo kid has prayed for my soul a few times. Kinda creepy, considering I don't know him, but he's yours, so I'll let it slide."

Grimmjow stiffened. This wasn't how the dream was supposed to go. He was supposed to be in writhing pain by now, unable to hear anything Ulquiorra was saying. Then the water, then the screaming, then finally waking up.

This was a totally different ball game.

"What?"

"You're more stubborn then I ever was. You only see what you want to see. I'm telling you to knock it off. You've got a good life going on. Don't fuck it up by worrying about how the past could have played out differently. If I don't blame you, why the fuck would you blame yourself? Idiot."

Grimmjow felt absolutely retarded, totally chastised by Cuatro right now, but the aching in his chest was dulled, more of a heartbeat now than anything else.

Ulquiorra stood up and rustled Grimmjow's hair. Grimm instinctually slapped it away. He wasn't a little kid.

Ulquiorra smiled at him. Actually SMILED.

Smiles were so fucking rare from this kid you had a better chance of catching Big Foot.

"Kami said this is the last time I'll get to see you," Ulquiorra said. Grimmjow just stared as giant, oily black wings unfolded from Ulquiorra's back, "It's time for me to go home, Grimm. You should go home too."

Ulquiorra leaned forward, hugging his brother. The tightness in Grimmjow's chest finally caved. He wrapped his arms as best he could around his brother, the wings shadowing over him.

Ulquiorra kissed him on the forehead. It was searing hot, and then it was over.


Grimmjow jolted awake, his body confused as to where he was. He was sweating, his sheets soaked as he turned over against another heat source.

Ichigo.

He was in Ichigo's dorm room.

He wiped at his face, pissed that there were tears there. Dammit.

He got up and headed for the bathroom. He dabbed at his face with the sink water, running his hands through his hair.

He looked in the mirror, trying to make sense of the dream.

It certainly hadn't been a nightmare. Then again, Cuatro's words made his chest hurt.

Would he really be gone? Was he set free? Or had Grimmjow's subconscious decided to fuck with him?

His forehead hurt a little bit, like he had a bug bite.

He ran some water over it, but he still felt some dull pain.

He pushed his bangs back, looking in the mirror.

Flawless skin.

But Grimmjow remembered. The burning hummed right where Cuatro had kissed him.

"You're losing it," Grimmjow mumbled to himself.

He turned off the bathroom light and went back to bed, crawling in next to a snoring Ichigo.

He pulled Ichigo into his side. He didn't care if he was still sweaty and hot.


A/N: Wait. Wait. Whoa. Wait. What was that? Good thing this is a side bonus chapter or this story runs the risk of turning supernatural.

As for the angel/let-me-move-on cliché, come on. Considering Ulquiorra has wings in the manga I couldn't fucking help myself.

Again, 'preciate it if you'd check out my profile. I'll also be putting up a poll soon if this writer's block thing doesn't work itself out of my system. I haven't written a damn thing since I got my rejection letter for grad school, so maybe I'm just moping.