I binge watched RWBY volumes 1 through 3, and of course, they killed off my favorite character. It's fairly well foreshadowed and well done, and it seems pretty clear she's not comic-book dead but actually gone.

That's fine for the story, but as a new fan I can't help wanting to change it. This is my attempt. I'm not sure how far this goes, where, or what the end is, but I know it's going to be violent and dark. I'm not going to warn you, so if reading about difficult or mature subjects might cause you problems, don't read this.

This is really just a process of dealing with an expected disappointment. In other words, I'm writing this for me. If you enjoy it I'm pleased, but I am not writing it for you and I'm not sure if I'll complete it.

Yes, this also means adding in an OC. I'll try to keep it from being a Mary Sue/Gary Stu.

As of publishing this chapter I have written over 29000 words, and I'm about half-way through what would be volume 1. And things might slow down in later volume areas where there are more events. Consider this fair warning.

Finally, I'm not sure I'll finish. I want to, but I get distracted.

20 years after the fall of Beacon

She was always imperious, cold and white and self-assured. Always right. Still, she was difficult to argue with.

"There's no time left. Ready or not we've no choice. This is what you've prepared your entire life to do; it is your purpose. Set things right, at any cost."

"Mother, please…"

"Now. We've lost; grimm pour into the fortress and they'll be here any minute. Your aunt and I will hold them back as long as we can but now is not the time to falter." She stepped forward to him, her hand caressing his tearful face. "I've not been the mother you deserved, and your life… it's not fair but this is it. There's nowhere else to go… do this one last thing for me.

He bows his head, accepting what he's always known. She would never say it, because she never felt it. He was a useful tool, the key to changing what went wrong and saving the human race. And all it cost him was everything.

She joined her yellow haired partner, stepping out of the chamber and sealing him in behind hermetically sealed locks in what was effectively a vault as he began to form the glyphs only he could make. His aura flared with his father's legacy and his eyes burned with the stolen power that would let him make the journey no one else could. Back to Vale, back to Beacon, but to them, before. He wore no clothes, took no weapons. Nothing but him would go back, as he was now.

The matrix was complex, designed by his mother and other experts over a decade, specifically for this room, for this purpose, and only for him. Concentrating, he struggled to make each glyph perfect, dilating time and accelerating his mass forward in an infinite loop of speed. The noise outside grew intense, then quiet, and then the vault doors began to rumble, but still he kept his concentration.

The doors punched in and began to fall as the grimm breached the vault, only to hit his prepared dilation glyph and stop in time for a few moments. Time was up; he released the dilation glyph holding him in the matrix loop and flung himself forward, past the speed of light and into the past.

The spring before the final academic year at Beacon

There was no flash, just a small bang from pushing the air outward as his body stopped in time where the loop finally drained of energy, 400 meters in the air above the soft snowy ground outside Atlas. He dropped quickly toward a Schnee dust warehouse. Most of his aura was gone, and the entirety of the stolen power, but he had just enough to weave the dilation glyph necessary to slow his fall.

He hit the roof with a thump and a slight bounce, groaning even as he began to slide down the snow covered icy slope and into what will be another multi-story fall, this time likely to his death. His aura completely gone, the cold snow bit into his bare skin, the tiles scratching and leaving him bleeding as he picked up speed on the slope. He succeeded in catching the gutter at the end of the roof with his fingers, having flipped himself over onto his hands and knees as he scrambled for purchase on the ice.

Hanging from the guttering, feeling the wrench in his shoulders as they nearly dislocated from stopping his slide, he quickly looked for a way down or into the building. The guttering began to groan and tear away from the building; it was sturdier than common guttering but not meant to catch and hold his weight. As it began to pull away, he could see no way down from where he was, so he held tightly to it and hoped. Luck was with him however, as one end broke and swung down, acting like a swinging rope as he dropped closer to the ground, but in a such a way that he could control his fall and avoid injury. He touched ground and fell into a forward roll, spinning onto his side and rolling through the thick snow, but also slowed and cushioned from the fall.

No time to spare; it was far below freezing and he was completely naked and now bleeding on his back, knees, and fingertips. Frostbite, and maybe gangrene, if he didn't die of exposure. There was a guard shack ahead at the gate but the warehouse is closer, and presumably warmer than where he is now. Dust doesn't care about the temperature, but the warehouse workers and the guards would, and it was the middle of the workday. Already he'd been noticed.

One might have expected him to fight capture or flee, but he was depending on these people for his survival. Once again, that spark of hope was rewarded. Even as he collapsed into the snow, he could feel strong hands and arms lifting him, rushing him to warmth. Darkness claimed his consciousness.

He woke what must be several hours later, laying on a couch and covered with a thick blanket. Standing nearby was an older bald man dressed in a Schnee uniform, his stomach pouching out with a bit of extra weight, and a concerned look on his face. A couple of young women, older than him to some degree are also present, but he's still too cold to blush and he's quite used to scrutiny over his body, and everything else.

"Boy, are you all right? It's not every day a bleeding naked man appears at my warehouse, having fallen onto the roof and ripped down the gutter."

He tried to speak, but only succeeds in a pitiful moan at first. "I apologize for the damage and the nature of my appearance. I must speak to Mr. Schnee."

"Well boy, I'm not in the habit of contacting my employer to see random naked men, even when they fall from the sky. How about you tell me your name and I'll see what I think then."

"Blanc. Tell him his grandson wishes to see him."

Schnee family home, several hours later

"You dare claim to be my grandson? Who, exactly, would be your mother, scoundrel? I'll admit, you have the right coloring, but the wrong build, and my daughters are too close to your age, and neither have had children."

Blanc said nothing, but having recovered enough aura, and being clothed, albeit in a Schnee worker's uniform, he simply raised his hand and began the planned glyph. Out of the white spinning object appeared the glowing white form of a summoned grimm stalker, tall and gangly, with reverse jointed knees like a crane, before Blanc released it.

His grandfather was noticeably shocked. He couldn't be the man's grandson but he's obviously of the same bloodline, and the boy was too old for him to be unknown. "I've come here from the future; that's why you don't know me. I've come to stop the end of everything."

Mr. Schnee was no longer skeptical. Instead he was unconscious, having passed out from the stress. Blanc sighed and sat down. He told his mother this wasn't going to go the way she thought it would, but it was a start.

The doors to the man's office opened, allowing a young white haired girl to enter. "Father, I've been accepted to Beacon acad… hello, I apologize. I did not know my father was meeting with anyone this afternoon."

"That's ok Mot… my lady. My meeting with your father was unexpected. I'm afraid he may be ill."

The girl turned to look at her father again, then summoned some servant androids to take her father to his room. "I think you'll have to excuse him and return another day; is there any message you'd like me to give to him?"

"Well, I'm afraid I must wait. The matter at hand is too important to return tomorrow and I must have his help as soon as possible." Blanc responded. He had nowhere to go and no way to get there, and no way that her father could contact him if he left.

"Can I ask who you are? You look very familiar but I don't believe we've met."

"We have, but you wouldn't remember. My name is Blanc."

"Are you a cousin, perhaps? Surely you're of some relation." She spoke "My name is Weiss, Weiss Schnee."

Blanc looked away. "No, I'm afraid I'm not a cousin. Is there a room where I could wait for your father to recover?"

After a few moments of awkward silence, Weiss led the rather attractive boy, wearing a common Schnee worker uniform, to their sitting room to wait, and then departed, while Blanc thought about why he was deviating from the plan. Obviously, the shock of meeting someone from the future was likely to cause problems, particularly for those who aren't more prepared. Even he thought the idea absurd, and he was the traveler. He'd already told his grandfather; proven his relation, in fact, though he'd done nothing to prove he was actually the grandson of the last of the great Schnee men. His mother had insisted he tell Weiss as soon as he saw her, but he couldn't. She wasn't ready and he feared it would taint his mission. Perhaps it was best if he left and struck out on his own. He'd been trained in infiltration; used it to escape his years long imprisonment. Surely he could sneak his way to Vale on one of the many dust transports that headed there and elsewhere in Remnant daily. He got up to leave, but as he reached out for the door, it suddenly opened.

Weiss was on the other side, startled. "Oh, I was just coming to get you. My father has recovered and insists on seeing your right away. Please, follow me."

More awkward silence as he was lead down the corridor to the man's room, but he felt it best to say nothing. He'd need to be more careful with what he said and to whom. All things considered, he could definitely use the assistance of the Schnee Dust Company.

"Through here." Weiss opened the door.

"Come in my boy. I'm very sorry, it just that it's not every day you meet …"

Blanc interrupted him. "I'm afraid my concerns can't wait, but need to remain private." He wasn't glaring at her, but she felt uncomfortable under his gaze, as if she'd done something terribly wrong.

"Yes, of course. Weiss my dear, please excuse us."

Weiss left without a word or an argument, grateful to escape.

Blanc stepped in and shut the door behind him.