My stories have been a mess lately so I thought if I did something fresh it would revive me a little. This is my first story NOT in the Alex Rider category. Short, slightly happier alternate ending to the book Bec. Please excuse any errors, I haven't read the book in a while. Bec's POV.

The pain should have been unbearable. I don't know why it wasn't. The demons were still ripping into me, but I was numb, everywhere. I was blind – Vein had taken my eyes. Or at least one of them. Artery may have taken the other. Stirrings of pain in my neck – or what I think is my neck –, and from the three points of feeling I know it's Artery, chewing with all three mouths. Then I'm floating, catching on the rock, the stone enveloping me. I'm melding with the rock, we're becoming one, and I know I'm dead. Why I am still trapped, I don't know.

I sense Bran, on the other side of the rock, howling, screaming, pounding on the wall. Shrieking my name. I push against the rock, and realize I can press through, just partially, my stony head and hair protruding from the rock. I can speak, I soon realize. I'm like Drust's brother, Brud (AN: is it Brud or Brude?) now. I scream his name: "Bran!" He is running with his enormous speed, I can feel the rush of wind as he races towards me. Then his hands are on my face and his lips at mine. He draws back for a moment, puzzled by my rocky flesh, but seeing that it's my face, runs his hands over my hair. Not through, he can't now, but he tries. "Flower," he murmurs. I stretch my hands through the rock wall and take hold of his shoulders. "Bran," I say. He's nuzzling my hair. He stops. "Ber – Ber," he tries to say.
I frown. He continues. "Berana – Beranabus. Beranabus."
I realize: this is his real name. This is what he tried to say when Drust met him. He's touched in the head, but remembered his own name. He's finally said it. I smile and kiss his forehead.

We spend that night together: him leaning against the cave wall, I pushing as much of my body as I can out of the rock. His cheek is pressed against mine, one hand on my face, the other clasping my fingers. He sleeps. I can't. I wonder how long I'm going to be trapped, if it will always be like this, alone forever when Bran dies. No. I banish the thought. He shifts, sensing my unrest, opens his eyes sleepily, and reassuringly presses his lips to my stone ones. He pats my cheek, whispers my name, and falls back asleep.

Well, that was short and unbearably cheesy. I like the BecxBran pairing more than any other in the Demonata series, so I thought I'd have a go. My Alex Rider stories are a TOTAL mess right now, I'm shamelessly procrastinating, and it's about time I posted something. So review. Or don't. Whatever.