#spicydanhowell

His legs carry him to the kitchen, where Marvin and Henrik reach out eagerly for a warm cup of caffeine, both accepting coffees from him, flavored just the way they like them. They smile so brightly at him it seems to make the world pause to smile back. The remains of breakfast is still scattered around the table. On Sundays, they all eat together. It’s a gorgeous day for it, too. Sun shines down through the crisp autumn air, making their kitchen glow with warm light. Dust filters peacefully through the air.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening.

His face doesn’t move. He is smiling, speaking, exchanging words with his little brothers, even touching them occasionally, laying his hand on their shoulders or patting their hands. Marvin looks vaguely disconcerted - Jackie rarely touches - but he brushes it off. It’s a good day, after all.

“Jackie,” he says proudly, glancing over at the sink, where a little figure is quietly washing dishes. “Why don’t you ask Jamie if he wants his?”

Jackie’s eyes blink. “Oh, uh. Yeah, I guess. James, I got you a peppermint hot chocolate, just like you like. You want it?”

Henrik frowns, glancing up at Jackie. He rarely calls him anything but Jaimer or JJ. Nobody calls him James. He supposes it doesn’t much matter.

Jameson looks up from the dishes, blinking large eyes, which are only now losing the deep exhaustion that has haunted them for weeks.

Jackie’s body shifts, uncertain.

You don’t know what you’re waiting for, do you? asks Jackie inside his head, fury clawing at his throat. I do. I know what we’re waiting for. You don’t know my family. You think you can pretend to be me and just -

Q̃͡uie̍͗́t̼.

Jackie’s head tilts patiently, his mouth smiling at Jameson.

His little brother’s hand reaches up, slowly.

He knocks the air, touches his chin and draws away.

“Yes, please,” he says.

Chase whoops, coming over to clasp Jamie’s shoulder proudly. “There he goes,” Henrik murmurs, smiling warmer than Jackie’s ever seen him smile.

“He’s talking again,” cheers Marvin, throwing an arm around Jackie’s shoulder. There are tears in his big blue eyes. Jackie’s eyes rake over his body like it’s meat. “He said he liked his eggs runny this morning, haha.”

“That’s good,” manages Jackie’s voice, his mouth smiling. “He hasn’t since, uh - since he was with Anti, huh?”

“Yeah, no,” murmurs Marvin. “Guess he’s finally - finally, finally - starting to feel safe again. Fuck.” He rubs at his face and laughs, drawing away. “It’s a good day, man.”

Jackie’s teeth are bared in a smile. His hands pulls the hot chocolate from the cup holder and hold it up to Jameson, who scampers forward to grab it, taking it from his fingers with a small, perfect smile.

Jackie, inside his own head, is crying.

You stole this moment from me. I have been waiting for this for months. Since I stole him back from you, I have been waiting.

C̢ͨo̲͜nsidͩe̝̲͛̈́r t̕hͣ̓̀̚i̝̗̝s͖ ̴̄̋͗yo̷͚͓̅̀u̱̲̖͆ͤͮr̝̰ ̶p͈̺̫͜u̹̖ͫͬ́n̨is̭̅h̒m͈enͭͭt̹ͪ́ ̶̲͓̩̃ͫ͆for̝ͨ ̌ͩ̑͏̥̭̹st̷̘̫e͞á̳̘l̰̝̦̔͗ͥï̲n̡ͤͯ̿g̑͛̚͏̳̥̲ ̸̫hȋ̅͘ṃ̟ ͗̉a̓w̤̲̪̄ͭ͐ay͍̗̗ͤͣ́ fr͢o̜m mȅ̉̔ ͌͗̾in ̗̻ͦ͑͜th̠̫e ͕̩̉ͣfi̓rst͋ p͠l̡ͦac͢e͙.͑͋

There is a knife in Jackie’s hoodie pocket.

Don’t do this to him.

Jameson takes a little sip of his chocolate. Henrik is already halfway through his coffee, while Chase is downing his latte with the last of his breakfast muffin. Marvin’s fingers drum against his cup. Jackie’s eyes watch patiently, waiting.

Don’t do this to them.

Jackie tries to thrash. Tries to scream. Tries to move, even just to make his fingers twitch.

Anything but this. Anything but this.

Henrik yawns, chatting with Chase about his plans for the day while Jamie stands happily between them, drinking his chocolate.

Jackie is chained in silver and cerebration.

At last, Marvin takes a long drink of his coffee, sighing, content, his arm still wrapped around Jackie’s shoulders. “Thanks for the coffee, man.”

“Yeah, course,” says his mouth.

Jackie is hidden behind prison bars and dura mater, panting, desperately, for breath, while Anti sits silent in his blood.

Henrik yawns again, shaking his head at himself. “Fuck, I need to wake up. It’s already eleven and I’m still so tired.”

“It’s those late nights,” teases Chase. “Good thing Jacks got you some coffee.”

“Very good thing,” answers Henrik, grinning wryly and taking another drink. “Gives me the energy to put up with you.”

No, no, no. Brother, put it down. Can’t any of you tell I’m not me?

Henrik gets up to help put a couple dishes away. Chase has gone a little pale, standing against the kitchen counters like he’s not steady enough to walk on his own. Jameson is frowning down at his drink. He could swear he tastes something slightly sour beneath his peppermint and chocolate.

He looks up at Jackie. Jackie’s eyes stare back.

But he’s just being paranoid, isn’t he? Like everyone keeps telling him. No one’s coming for you, Jamie. No one’s going to hurt you, Jamie. Anti’s not going to get you again, we love you, we’re right here.

He stares at Jackie, chewing on his lip.

Henrik drops a plate and it shatters into earthenware shards, scattering across the floor. Marvin cries out in alarm, hurrying to Henrik’s side. He does not make it before Henrik collapses, slamming into the ground with a painful thud.

“Fuck! Henrik, can you hear me?” Marvin hauls him into his arms, cradling his head. His eyes have rolled back in his head and his mouth hangs slightly open as he struggles to breathe, giving a small, confused groan. Marvin pats the side of his face and tries to get him to look at him, calling his name. “Henrik, Henrik, it’s okay, bud. You okay? Are you with me, Doc? Chase, help me with him, let’s get him to the couch, he - Chase?”

Chase is white as a ghost, gripping the kitchen counters. His hands shake. His legs shake. “M-marvin?” he stammers, sweaty hands clinging to granite. “Jackie?”

Anti watches him coolly, Jackie’s face blank. He reaches out to take somebody’s half-finished cup of orange juice and takes a drink, putting Jackie’s chin in his hand as he observes, quietly.

A smile, slightly twisted, sitting on his mouth.

No, no, no! screams Jackie. Get out of my head! Stop this, stop! Let me out! I won’t let you do this! I won’t let this happen! Anything but this! Anything but this!

“Jackie, help me,” snaps Marvin. “Why the hell are you sitting there? Chase, sit down, you don’t look well. Here, I’ll just get Henrik to the couch and then I’ll come back for - I’ll come back for - ”

Marvin is trying to rise, without success. He gasps through a sudden wave of dizziness, leaving him swaying on his knees. He lists to his side, placing a hand on the hard wood of the kitchen floor.

Above him, sitting at the island, Jackie’s eyes watch, calm.

“What is this?” whispers Marvin, as Chase topples to the ground, collapsing into darkness. “What have you done?”

A soft, breathy whimper falls from Jameson’s mouth. Terrified, Marvin looks up to see his baby brother fixated on Jackie’s face, still holding his peppermint chocolate, his mouth trembling.

He has many panic responses, but there is only one person who has ever made him freeze like that.

Anti, Anti, Anti. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t touch them. Don’t do this. My little brothers. Jaimer, run. Jaimer, I can’t get free.

“No,” pants Marvin. He tries, again, to get up. Power buzzes in the ends of his fingers. It feels so faraway, but at least it’s still here, still with him. “No, I warded this place myself. Warded Jackie myself. Hid everything, hid everyone. You can’t have found - you can’t be here - you - ”

“Aww,” says Jackie’s voice, but it is not Jackie, it is not Jackie. “Little kitty cat really thought he could keep me away.”

Fury pounds its way through Marvin’s chest. He groans, gritting his teeth. His hand reaches out to grab one of the shards of the plate and he digs it, hard, into his palm.

He can’t pass out. He can’t. He has to protect his family.

Jackie’s body hops down from the island and rounds the table. His mouth hums, halfway singing a song, ancient and lovely. Jameson backs away, one step, two. He has set his chocolate down on the counter. His cheeks are flushed, bright red against pale, sickly skin, as the poison filters into his blood.

“Oh, honey,” murmurs Anti. “How I’ve missed you. You were so bad to run away. I’m going to beat you til you forget your own name.”

“Uh, uh, uh!” Jameson tries desperately to vocalize, tears rising in his eyes. Trembling, he circles the island, his hands reaching out for the knife drawer by the sink, at Anti’s back.

“Nuh-uh-uh, I don’t think so,” sings Anti, following Jamie around the island. Marvin pants at Jackie’s feet, struggling to stay conscious. Summoning his power.

And Jackie thrashes within his own head, caged like a circus lion. Leave him alone! Leave him alone! LEAVE HIM ALONE!

“I don’t think I will,” Anti answers him, aloud. “I think my little lost lamb is going to come home with me - ”

He jerks forward around the island and Jameson jumps, stumbling against the kitchen table.

“Back where he belongs - ”

He leaps forward, scaring Jameson again, who crumples to the ground, scrambling backwards on his hands. His back is to Marvin, rising shakily back to his feet, palm bleeding from the earthenware shard.

“And stay with me forever, just like he was meant to do!” Anti grabs the collar of Jameson’s shirt and yanks him up. Jameson gasps, his head lolling back, his eyes flickering, his mouth open, desperate -

A blast of energy collides with Anti like an explosion and Jackie’s body is slammed into the wall, hard enough to punch a hole in it. Anti yelps, grabbing at the chunks of plaster on his face, leaping to his feet. Marvin is upon him a second later, driving his elbow into his nose, setting fire to his shirt, baring his fucking teeth like he’s about to bite, and Jackie, screaming pride and relief within his head, wouldn’t put it past him, not past his wild little brother, his ferocious little brother, kick my ass, Marvin, keep them safe, just like we always promised each other we would!

Marvin strikes Anti in the throat, making him choke, and he draws back again for another blow, aiming at his ribs, and Anti grabs the handle of the knife in his pocket and then -

There’s a second where it doesn’t even reach Jackie.

Where he is cut off from the world, too far away to register anything but a blur of terror, locked up, tight, in his own head.

And then he feels

Warmth

On his hands.

And he looks up and Marvin looks back, eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth open in a dry, desperate gasp.

“Marvin,” Jackie tries to say, and he feels the “M” make its way halfway out of his mouth.

“Jackie,” Marvin tries to answer, wheezing, but nothing but blood comes out.

Jackie looks down. There is a knife in his hands. There is a knife in Marvin’s chest.

“Jah - Jah - Jack - ”

“Marvin!”

Jackie screams it, screams it, screams like his heart is breaking, with his own mouth, his own voice, his own hands, reaching out to grab him as he crumples, blood soaking through his crisp white dress shirt, golden light illuminating him like a corpse in a wake, and above him, Jackie screams, and screams, and screams, holding the dagger buried in his little brother’s stomach, slicked in a flood of hot wet blood.