Freak

You are an unloved freak, and completely alone. She's right in front of you, mocking you with the British Invasion. That's your new name for him. And it is so fitting. He came in and took what was yours. And she always was yours- your Alex.

Everyone saw it- you two hated each other. Undercutting each other's accomplishments, mocking one another almost constantly. But the truth was you two had so much love. In some ways, you were more loving towards one another than anyone else could ever be.

Alex laughs. You are such a sick freak- that's your little sister over there. The worst part is you can't even pour yourself into art. Yeah, you can play guitar, but not jazz. Alex could do it, a reason you hate her. If she were in your shoes, she would paint her feelings, and they would awe everyone who saw it. She is armed for problems like this- always has been.

Until now you never realized just how bad you had it- nor how much you needed her to help you. Alex was the one to say, 'help me' but you were the proud one- you forced her to know you needed her before ever accepting her assistance.

Shakira, Evillini, Zeke and Harper, time and time again she has understood humanity better than you ever could and every time she has stepped in even though you resisted her help. Alex was forced to fight you to keep you alive, and in love.

Juliet was the most damning example; you moped around and Alex, regardless of your pathetic excuse of a problem, solved what you could not overcome. She knew how to get you your love back. Alex is like that- solving problems you refuse to admit that you have.

And now here you are, terrified of what will happen if she turns that intuition against you. What if she figures it out? What if she's going to do what she always does and sees right through you?

Alex laughs, bowing her head against Mason's arm. She does that, lean on her man. Sometimes it's her boyfriend of the week, occassionally it's your dad. Usually it's you. It should be you. No one else will take care of her the way her older brother does.

You growl in anger when she pecks Mason's lips. He is so happy; he should be. Alex then gets up and heads over to you. That is never a good sign. Her hips sway ominously, promising so much- but providing so little. She breaths deeply, leaning back to stretch her chest which makes your mind go blank.

You are sick.

The cash register has been counted three times before she reaches the counter. Her hands fiddle nervously. That is a bad sign. Whenever she fiddles- it means she's up to something. And that something is almost always a bad thing for you.

"Justin, I need a favor."

You sigh out all that pent up frustration, "Alex, I'm a little too busy right now."

Sometimes she believe you when you say that, but only sometimes. This is not one of those times. Her lower lip pouts out, and she gives you the eyes.

"But Justin…"

"What do you want?"

She perks up instantly, "You know what a wizard flare is?"

You blush, and of course you should be blushing, "It's a biological imperative that ensures every wizard has at least one child. Until an heir is named, a wizard has flares; points in time when they have unusually strong breeding skills such as improved strength, stamina, and desire. Naturally, we have a twelve hour notice before it hits, and it only hits wizards who have someone to mate with. A wizard must be in a constant relationship with a suitable member of the opposite sex to experience a flare."

Somewhere along the way she zoned out, "Wow… you make the sexiest thing about us into a boring biology experiment!"

"It's not an experiment until we actually do something to test it, Alex!"

….Pause, you did not just ask to flare with her, you didn't.

Her eyes go wide. She smiles at you. What's happening here?

"Yes, Justin, exactly!"

Can this really be happening? Is she suggesting…

"Me and Mason need a date night. A really, really good date night."

Your heart crashes instantly. She does not want you, she wants the British Invasion, ew. The older brother in you makes a nasty face, "And why is this my problem?"

She laughs, "Because you're going to help me!"

You hold out a hand, "Not interested."

Alex laughs a little too loudly, "Could you… check me out?"

(If only Alex knew what that meant...) Your face goes quite red, "I…. kind of already did that?"

She almost laughed at your questioning tone, "Either you did or you didn't. Which is it?"

You feel very ashamed. Alex is calling you out. How far this goes is a question you feel afraid of answering. Of course, it is still just a question, and you, Justin Russo, are always excellent at getting answers.

"What did Mason say?"

Alex looks down (so adorable); when she's bashful, when she's angry, when she's needy- especially when she's asking for your help.

"Uh, um... I-uh, I didn't tell him."

You laugh unintentionally, "He's a werewolf; they have a powerful sense of smell. If you're flaring he'll know, trust me."

She fiddles with her fingers. (Ah, distrust, there you are. You are more than needed here.) It feels amazing to see her not trust him, but you feel dirty inside, so you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, "Maybe he just didn't think it was polite to mention," you put on your best impression of an Brit, "Oh, dear me, my girlfriend is ready for some of the Queen's royal guard, what-what!"

She laughs sweetly. (Caramel and coffee-toffee with icing and licorice and cake and-) You don't forget, you can't that you don't own that laugh. No one does really- she has a license on it, and whips it out whenever it suits her. Still, it's nice to bask in the sweetness of the sound.

"Yeah, what was I thinking?"

(Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick...)

You take some pride in knowing she came to you for help. Well, until you figure you're her only option. Dad is of no help at all in these situations. His little girl would not flare. Mom was worse, more accepting of the situation, but more ignorant of its necessity. Max… wow, there was no way anyone would ever talk to Max about this. Ever.

"What about you?"

Her question takes you off guard. It's almost like she's asking you-

"What did you do when you flared?"

You ignore it, "Step into my lair."

She rolls her eyes at you, "It's not yours yet, dork."

It will be soon. You put her on a pedestal and get to work. She looks a you with curiosity, no doubt her wonderfully adept mind was already instinctively absorbing all your skills with a simple understanding. No doubt she could do this same procedure on you- if it ever came to it. No doubt that, of the two of you, she's the real geius. That's her gift- pure understanding.

You go through some books as a refresher. Basic biology, physiology, and some history just to be sure she gets your absolute best. (What else would you ever give her?)

After what she calls an eternity, you are ready, "Hold still Alex."

Your little sister will ignore you. You know this. Still, after fidgeting, she sits still, "This is my right finger," You press your print into her back, "This is my left," Your fingertip digs into the skin. You press your left in a second time, "Which is pressing into you right now?"

She closes her eyes to think, "…Left?"

"Right! I mean, that's correct," her eyebrows quirk. You move to her chest, "Have you been feeling any bigger today, maybe some sensitivity?"

A slight brush of your palm and she gasps with pleasure. You are filled with happiness. After administering a few more tests, there is no doubt.

"Congratulations, little sister, your body thinks you're ready to mate."

She hugs you for no reason. It's not like you're the one who she's responding to. (The British Invasion got your sweet, adorable baby sister to flare? Unthinkable! If he had been able to do this on purpose, he would soon find out just how much dark magic you understand!) Still, you take it happily.

"What do I wear? What won't I wear?" A devilish smile crosses her face. She skips out of the lair happily. Right now, you just want to be alone.

Mason comes in. (British Instigation) It's the worst possible thing right now, to see him, "Hey Justin, be a chap and give me a hand?"

The urge to blow him up almost overwhelms you, "Whatcha need?"

He practically bounces happily, "Tonight Alex and I are going out and… it's going to be a great night!"

He knows. The fact that he does ticks you off. It almost feels like he's taking advantage of her situation. On the other hand, wouldn't you?

"Once more; what does that have to do with me?"

That smile… oh, he's just too much to deal with. (How much dark magic do you know? Well, you can write the book on it- a whole series, actually, and you want to start in Volume 'F' for "F- U' and after finishing at Volume U, you will then progress to the numbered volumes I-X, as in 'I will X you out' and then maybe, maybeyou'll be done. Maybe... nah.)

"I need help making tonight special for her," He scratches his head, "I don't know what she likes, per se."

You want to strangle him, but realize it's pointless. After years of dating Alex, he's learned that she is sarcastic and tastes like pickles. If he were any more shallow, he would be a kiddie pool. Sighing, you get to work. You're Justin, it's what you do; homework, housework, and work at all to prove you are the good one.

(Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick, sick...)

Within hours, the two of you put together a decent date for Alex. Arrangements are made at her favorite café; you ensure she will not have any chores to do by doing them yourself. Hours later, everything is ready.

Mason leaves most of the work to you. That's fine, it'd be worse to have him slow you down. Besides which, you could imagine it would be you and her tonight.

Alex is beautiful. (The dress is both too low-cut and too high. She knows, instinctively, how to work her flare.) Even Max takes notice of it. She comes down forcing her parents to go cry in the corner. They're so emotional. Harper breaks down too because apparently she cries when others cry. Alex is rolling her eyes the whole way. She smiles at Max before coming to you.

This has always been your moment, you sick freak. It's not Dad who she goes to, it's you. You're her rock; you're the one person she will always run to. And make no mistake; Mason will run from you if she runs to you. (In sing-song now; daaa-aaark Maa-aaa-aaagic...) There's simply something within her that compels her to show off for you. The second she stops, she spins. It's breath taking. (She is so, so... so beautiful. And yours. For right now, she is all yours.)

"Oh, Alex, you're beautiful," Her arms drift around you like they were meant to be there. For a second, everything is as it should be. Then you let go.

Over the last few hours, some people, people you considered foolish, may ask why you help these two stay together. You have never made it a secret that you hate him. And it's not like you get a lot of thanks from either of them. This is Alex and Mason- a rebel with an attitude and a dog. If they had manners, they have never shown them to you.

The truth is; you are a sick, lonely freak. Your life, all of it, sucks- thoroughly. All that work you do? Boring. Your grades? Worthless to the girl you love. Your social life is a gas. (And you can define how it is like that substance all too well.) You would not wish this on your worst enemy.

So of course you want to save Alex from it. Mason makes her happy- less lonely, anyways. If you broke them up, and that's not that hard really, she would be heart-broken, AGAIN. And that's not your goal. You may be a lonely freak, but there is no way you will ever let Alex be like that. Ever.

A.N. I liked it. But honestly, the next chapter is the best thing I have ever written. Really, it's that good.