Second Homestuck fic I've ever written and what does it revolve around? Strider brothers again. Oh, well.

This really isn't much; it's just a particularly entertaining daydream of mine where I play around with characters I like. I decided to write it down and put up to see what people think. Reviews are appreciated, as always.

Dave Strider had never run, flown, or moved so fast in all his sixteen years of life.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was what came of procrastinating, refusing to learn, and generally being a blubbering goddamned pansy. Fuck him. Fuck him for screwing shit up the second they got into the new session, for hesitating long enough to have to scramble to fix it. Long enough that he couldn't think things the fuck through to remember that he didn't know his way around LOPAN, goddamnit, where the fuck were they.

Now, with his heart pounding in his throat, his stomach twisting with impending panic, and the sour taste of fear in his mouth, he could only hope that the time loops to come would work out the way he predicted. If not, he would be fucked even more than he already was. They all would be.

It turned out, just because you were a Hero of Time didn't mean you were immune to running out of it.

"What fresh bullshit is this."

This new enemy was unlike any that Dirk had ever come across before, a fact that he found quite frankly disturbing. His extensive knowledge of the game had gotten them quite a ways so far, but this? He didn't recognize this. Burning with curiosity, he took a cautious step back as he studied it, if only to buy a few more seconds to consider things. It was a carapace – maybe. It even looked vaguely Dersite, with that hard black shell over much of its body. Was it a Derse agent he hadn't encountered yet? That would explain why it looked so eager to attack.

It wouldn't explain the dog head and the wings, though. Not to mention the tattered remains of harlequin that hung from its neck like a ragged ruff collar, or the fact that it didn't seem to mind the sword protruding from its torso.

Dirk gripped the handle of his katana, absently mystified by the sweat on his own palm. The thing was missing an eye and an arm, major handicaps in any fight, but it still oozed with a sense of death and wrongness that gave him pause.

The creature's single eye fixed upon him and seemed to light up with recognition, yet another disturbing development on top of the rest. Dirk took another step back, this time to settle into a better stance. Ready to dodge at a moment's notice, he waited for the creature to make a move.

Before his eyes, it vanished. Green light flashed from behind him, and he dodged forward just in time to miss dying on its sword – the very one it had drawn from its chest, with no apparent ill effect. He spun to face it, taking in the half-snarl, half-smile on its muzzle. Whatever this thing was, it was determined to enjoy itself.

So it could teleport. Well, two could play that game.

Flash-stepping was in everything Dirk did; it had been ever since he'd found out his bro could do it. There were a lot of things he prided himself on, and speed was one of them. Now, however, this strange carapace was matching him step for step. No matter where he ended up, the creature and its grinning, fanged mouth and pitch-black sword were there waiting. His escapes were narrower than he would have liked, and he couldn't shake the feeling that his enemy was pulling punches.

There was a flash of pain as the blade bit into his side. Dirk retreated, and the creature let him, its tongue lolling like a beagle playing fetch. God damn it, the thing was toying with him.

Biting his cheek against the pain, Dirk checked the wound with his free hand. It was shallow and superficial, thank God, but it might just slow him down enough for it to matter. Warily, he watched the enemy that he was no longer sure he could defeat.

The thing's tongue vanished back into its mouth, and it studied him for a moment. Dirk could have sworn it looked disappointed.

He couldn't really blame it; he was kind of disappointed with himself, too. He couldn't get a handle on this thing. What the hell even was it?

He had no time to ponder the question before it was rushing him with yet another, even more relentless series of attacks. It would appear behind him to strike, then to his left in nearly the same instant. Biting his lip until he tasted blood on his tongue, Dirk forced down the pain and focused on keeping up. His escapes steadily grew narrower and narrower. Fear wormed its way into his mind, despite his efforts to suppress it like he always did when fighting drones or Derse agents.

This was new. It was new, it was wrong, and it was not supposed to be here.

The carapace appeared at his left shoulder, blade raised, and he whirled to block it just as it vanished without striking. By the time his mind registered his mistake, the creature was already behind him, poised for the kill. Bright red and deep crimson blurred in the corner of his eye.

Blood? Wait...

Hands clutched at his shirt and flung him forcefully to the side. Gasping as the movement jarred his wound, Dirk hit the ground and rolled to a halt, just in time to hear the sound of a blade sliding through flesh. (He'd stabbed and been stabbed before; he knew that sound.) An unfamiliar cry of pain accompanied the vile noise, followed by a wet cough. Dreading what he would see, Dirk raised his head.

The winged dog was snarling in frustration at the strange figure impaled on its sword. Whoever he was, he was human, strangely dressed in varying shades of red, and couldn't have been much older than Dirk himself. Before Dirk's bewildered, horrified eyes, the dog placed its foot on the dying human's chest and wrenched its sword from his body. The kid grunted in pain, a sound nearly as hideous that of the blade sliding free. Blood spattered the ground around him as he fell back.

Rage and dismay mingled within Dirk as he got back to his feet, fingers curled around his katana's handle.

There was no need; the dog creature glanced around, ears pricked as if expecting more to arrive, and vanished. This time, it did not reappear.

The katana nearly slipped from Dirk's nerveless fingers as he stumbled to his rescuer's side. Once there, he fell to one knee and leaned on his sword for balance.

The dying young man lay in a spreading pool of blood, his dark red cloak soaked and twisted beneath him. The front of his torn, bloodied shirt was emblazoned with a insignia that Dirk could only just recognize as the shape of a clockwork gear. A pair of aviator sunglasses had been knocked from his face and now rested lopsidedly on his forehead.

Holy shit, Dirk knew him. Well, he'd met him, at least. In a dream. He'd just caught a glimpse of him, and a distracted one at that. All of his friends had been dead or unconscious in the waking world; he'd had to leave, to get them all into the Medium. He shouldn't regret not stopping to talk; his priorities had been clear. But...

Glassy, bright red eyes focused on Dirk. The corners of the young man's mouth, despite the blood trickling from them, twitched upward in a smile.

"Hey, Bro."

The red eyes clouded over and closed.

"Wait, no–" Dirk spoke aloud, momentarily forgetting himself. It was too late for the other to hear him, after all. Stunned, he knelt over the body, questions tumbling end over end in his mind.

Well, he'd lived alone for his whole life. It wasn't like he was unused to talking to things that wouldn't answer back.

"Who are you?" he murmured. "And why did you–" He stopped again, because the answers to both were obvious.

He'd called him Bro.

How could it not be? That face, though pale and frozen in death, was almost frighteningly similar to his. Beneath the blood, his blond hair was nearly pale enough to be white, so like Dirk's own. Red eyes were quite close to orange, weren't they? And then there was the fallen pair of shades, which Dirk knew he'd seen before, perched on Ben Stiller's face on century-old movie posters.

And yet...

"That's impossible," Dirk muttered, because it couldn't be him. He was supposed to have died, yes, but not here. Not now. Not when he was so... young. He'd died fighting the Condesce, not like this.

It wasn't fair.

A childish thought, Dirk was ready to admit, but no less true.

"Uh... hey."

Dirk sprang up at the voice behind him, hampered slightly by his injured side. He spun around, katana blade sweeping around in an arc.

Clang. "–ly shit, calm down!"

Apparently it was a day for impossible things, Dirk thought, eyes wide behind his sunglasses. Despite the fact that he was still a corpse on the ground behind Dirk, the kid, his rescuer – his brother – was now standing before him, blocking his katana with a larger, more European-style sword. Just to be sure, Dirk shot a quick glance over his shoulder; the body was still there, of course. The live one before him was identical in every way, only animate, unharmed, and with his shades in place. He looked a bit harried, as if he'd sprinted to get there, and was following Dirk's gaze to look at his own corpse with undisguised relief.

Cautiously, Dirk lowered his sword, eying his brother – ancestor? – warily. "You're supposed to be dead." Inwardly he kicked himself. Here he was, face to face with his bro, in a meeting that he'd always considered an impossible dream, and all he could do was state the obvious?

"Oh, that?" The kid shrugged, nodding to the corpse. "Happens. Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean before," Dirk went on. "...Hundreds of years ago." Except it was likely he wouldn't know about that, Dirk remembered, still somewhat in a daze. He couldn't have known at this age how he would die as an adult, could he?

Either way, it was a slight comfort that the other Strider seemed just as awkward about the whole situation as Dirk, if not more so. "Oh, right. Sorry, you mean the me from your universe. So... I wouldn't know."

It took a moment for Dirk to fully register what he'd said. "...Wait, what?" Had UU known about this? It would have been nice if she'd mentioned this part, causal spoilers or none

The other Strider ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The sword vanished back into his sylladex. "Look, there's a whole lot of shit you need to know." He hesitated. "I mean, probably. I kind of just got here technically, so I actually have no idea what you already know. But, uh, first, apparently you've never met me, so... hey. I'm Dave."

Hearing those words gave Dirk no small amount of joy. "I'm Dirk."

"Yeah, I know. Now like I said, I'm not really sure where to start, so I'll just take a leaf from my own book here." He held up his hands, palms out, inviting conversation. "Ask me whatever, and I'll answer you as straight as I can. As long as it's not about the me you know about, because I know jack shit about him."

Oh for the love of fuck, what question was he supposed to start with?

"I've seen you before," he blurted, grabbing at the chance. He'd told himself he could wait to talk before; he would not make that mistake again. "I was unconscious, and I had to leave, remember?"

"Dream bubble," Dave replied. "We passed through a bunch of them on our way to your session. If your dreamself is dead, that's where you go when you sleep."

He'd have to ask Jake about that one later, Dirk thought distractedly. "Okay, so who's that?" he asked, pointing behind him. "And... and what was that carapace that killed him?"

Dave's face remained impassive as he answered. "Alternate me from a doomed timeline. Don't feel bad; he was going to die anyway."

In truth, that provided little comfort, but Dirk decided not to voice that opinion out loud. "Does that happen a lot?"

The emotionless mask twitched slightly, momentarily giving way to guilt. "When I fuck up, dead Daves pile up. And dead Daves are the enemy." He spoke it like a motto, and Dirk couldn't help but wonder just how many dead Daves existed. And he'd thought he had it bad when it came to fractured selves. "As for that rampaging dog monster... that was Jack Noir."

"You're shitting me," Dirk interrupted. "I've met Jack Noir. He's a stab-happy little shit, but he's not that powerful. Or... furry."

Dave shook his head. "Not your Jack Noir. Ours. The one from our session."

The last two words fell on Dirk's ears like bombshells. "...Your session," he echoed.

Dave sighed again. "Shit, I knew you were gonna get to this."

"You said you're not from my universe," Dirk went on, curiosity piqued. "And you don't know anything about the you from my universe. So who are you, then? Where are you from?"

Dave brushed a pale lock of hair behind his ear. "Okay, this is where it gets fucking complicated. Look, three years ago, at least to me, I played the game with my friends."

"What the fuck."

"Let me finish," Dave said, in an odd tone. He sounded almost embarrassed, as if telling Dirk what to do made him uncomfortable. "I have three friends: John, Jade, and Rose. We played the game. No one bothered to tell us that we couldn't win."

Dirk stared at him disbelievingly. No. No, that couldn't be right. This was Dave Strider, Dirk's bro, no matter what universe he was supposed to be from. "You mean... you lost?"

"Our session was doomed from the start," Dave went on, this time with an edge in his voice. "We did everything we could, but the game knows when the players are going to lose. So we Scratched. Reset the session. Wait, fuck that, we reset the whole goddamn universe. And that's where you're from."

"Wait, if this is a redo of the game," Dirk interrupted, "then how come I'm playing, and not you?"

Dave hesitated. For a split second, another uncomfortable look flitted across his face. "Because... fuck." He looked at his feet. "Fuck, how do I even say this – look, my friend John, he ended up creating us and our guardians as ecto-slime paradox clones. In our session, they were sent back in time and would eventually become us..." He looked up again awkwardly. "Are you getting any of this?"

"Yeah, I think so." Truthfully, it was a bit much, but no more complicated than controlling two selves at once.

"Well, according to Rose, when we Scratched, we and our... predecessors, I guess, were sort of switched. John's grandmother, Jade's grandfather, Rose's mom..." He paused. "My bro."

Dirk felt a painful twisting in his chest and glanced over his shoulder at the dead Dave behind him. His final two words suddenly made even more sense than before.

Wait. He blinked. Two grandparents, a mother, and an older brother. Sounds familiar. "Switched... you mean on the timeline?" he said, as what Dave had said began to fall into place and make sense. "So in this universe, you came first, and your guardians..." His voice trailed off. "They're us, aren't they? Jane, Roxy, Jake, and me. And Jane's grandfather, Jake's grandma, Roxy's mom, my bro, they're all you."

"Yeah, pretty much." Dave nodded. "Also, for some reason, you and Rose's mom ended up centuries in the future. Sorry about that."

"Wasn't too much of a problem," Dirk said with a shrug. Then the significance of what Dave had said occurred to him. "Wait, you mean you didn't?"

Dave was silent for a moment. "...I didn't. Neither did Rose."

"So you knew me, then." Dirk felt his heart sink, and stubbornly resisted the rising envy within him. He wasn't sure who he resented; Dave, for having grown up with an older brother and friends, or this other version of himself, for having met Dave.

"If by 'knew' you mean 'you picked my ass up out of a crater and raised me from infancy,' then... yeah," Dave murmured. "So... any other questions?"

"Wow, what the shit. I mean–" It took no small amount of effort, but Dirk set aside his more confusing feelings to deal with later. "Yeah," he answered. "Why are you here?"

"Two reasons." Dave sounded marginally more comfortable answering this question than he had the previous one. "One, we didn't really feel like ceasing to exist. Two, we're still not done. Remember how I said our session was doomed? Well, yours kind of is, too."

"What?" Dirk stared at him, incredulous. Had he messed up somewhere? If he had, where? How was he supposed to fix it now? "You mean after all that bullshit we've already gone through, we're still going to lose anyway?"

"What – no," Dave said firmly. "Hell no. I didn't say that. Rose'll explain it better than me when you meet up with them, but the other reason why we're here is to help you, and, y'know, to get your help too. We have to finish the game. Yeah, our universe kind of has cancer, and it's gonna take two sessions plus a bunch of trolls to fix shit, but... well, we're here now, so it's cool."

For a moment, Dirk could only stare at him again, fighting against his own growing anticipation. He'd always dreamed of meeting his brother, but now... holy shit, he'd be fighting alongside him. "What was that you said about cancer?"

"The session before ours fucked something up," Dave answered shortly. "Our universe has cancer." He hesitated. "In fact, you've met him already."

"Met – oh." Dirk realized what he meant almost instantly. "Your Jack Noir."

"Exactly. Don't try to fight him. He's completely out of our league, got it? Contact your friends, too."

"Already on it." Simple enough; the Auto Responder would take care of it. It probably already had. "So what now?"

The impassive mask slipped back into place on Dave's face. "There's a meteor that arrived not too long ago. That's help. I don't know how John and Jade are gonna get here, but John said they would, so that's more help. What you have to do now is meet with them, compare notes. I'm pretty sure the meteor's near Skaia by now."

"We can get there by transportalizer," Dirk told him, hoping he didn't sound half as stupidly eager as he felt. "C'mon, I'll show you."

The mask hardened. Dave didn't move to follow him.

Dirk hesitated, blinking in confusion. "What?"

"Y-you do know I said you have to meet them." Dave's voice was low and quiet.

The anticipation slowly gave way to creeping unease. "Uh... yeah. Aren't you coming?"

Dave held his gaze for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said at length. "I can't."

Dirk swallowed nervously. "Why not?"

"I haven't been completely honest with you," Dave admitted, his voice hollow. "What I mean is... there's no 'we' from here, at least not for me."

Unease turned to cold dread. "What do you mean?"

"Look, you have to go meet the others," Dave told him. "I... I have to go back seven minutes and forty-eight seconds..." His voice cracked. "And stop you from getting killed."

Dead silence followed.

"Wait, n-no you don't," Dirk protested. "The doomed Dave took care of it–"

"I'm the doomed Dave, bro," Dave told him. "He's me. I'm sorry."

"No you're–" Shit, shit, everything had been going great, and now it was right back to it's not fair. "What do you mean, you're sorry? Shit, I should be saying that. I just got you killed!"

The mask cracked, and Dave winced as if he'd been struck. For the second time, Dirk saw him crack a small smile at an incredibly inappropriate moment. "Heh." The bitter noise could not have been further from a laugh. "Funny you should say that. Ironic, actually. But not the cool kind of irony; I mean the stupid kind that just makes you want to puke."

"What are you talking about," Dirk gritted out.

"I'm from a doomed timeline, remember?" Dave told him. "I fucked up. I stalled too long. Waited around like a slackjawed fucking idiot because I was too much of a goddamned pansy to come see you." He looked away. "I'm from the timeline where no one was there to stop Jack from killing you. The only one whose fault it is, is me."

Dirk felt sick. "I'm really that important, that my death dooms an entire timeline?"

The other Strider's jaw tightened, but he did not look up to meet his eyes again. "Jake found you," he went on. "He went after Jack, tried to avenge you. It didn't work." Dirk's stomach wrenched painfully. "The girls tried to help him. That didn't work either. Jake survived just long enough to tell me what happened." He broke off, shaking his head angrily. "Just... fuck. I am so fucking sorry." With a jerky motion, as if it took a lot of effort, Dave looked him in the eye again.

He could taste bile in his throat. With some difficulty, Dirk managed to swallow without gagging. "Do you really have to die? I mean... goddamn, I just met you."

Dave took a step toward him. "This isn't the last time you're going to see me. I'm still on that meteor with Rose and the trolls."

"But–" It's not the same. You'll still be dead. The fact that you aren't the main one doesn't make you any less important; who knows that better than me?

"Listen to me." Dave took hold of his shoulders. "You see that body back there? It's set in stone. If I don't go back, we never have this conversation anyway. I know it sucks, but I'm the Knight of Time. I protect people. It's what I do."

But I don't want you to die.

"Go meet the others. Find main me. Tell him what happened. Tell them all that Jack Noir's already here, got it?"

This isn't right.

"Got it," he said out loud.

"Try to be patient with me, too," Dave went on. "I won't want to talk to you, but... just try to make me listen. Get Rose to help you if you have to."

"Okay."

Dave released his shoulders and sighed. "Good. ...Fuck, it's not like I want to do this. But it's the only way."

"So, pretty much this whole conversation was you stalling?" Dirk asked, somewhat crestfallen. "Putting off your own death for as long as possible?"

"...Not entirely," Dave assured him. "You really do need to know all that. It's better if you're on the same page as me and Rose. ...Well, I guess no one can really be on the same page as Rose. And..."

"What?"

"I was the only one who could fix this. I didn't take anyone with me from my timeline." Dave shrugged. "Rose was right, I guess. It's good to have company. You know... before it's all over."

Dirk's heart sank at his brother's matter-of-fact tone. "Is there anything else I can do?"

For a moment, Dave stared at him as if considering the question. "I guess... nah." He shrugged, with a brief, slight smile that anyone who wasn't a Strider would have missed entirely. "It was nice just to talk to you again. I've missed you."

"You've – you mean I–?"

"Ohh, no. Like hell am I doing everything for main me. If the right moment comes up, ask me again." Reaching up, he pushed his aviator shades up to rest on his forehead. "I guess you'll see me later. Good luck, Dirk."

There were a lot of things Dirk would rather have said, but all he did say was, "Thanks, Dave."

The Knight of Time vanished.

Dirk turned around and found himself staring down at his brother's body once more. Briefly he spared a moment to wonder how many more dead Daves there were, how many times Dave had died to fix things when they went wrong. He'd done it once so far, himself, back when they'd first entered the Medium. It must be a Strider thing.

To his knowledge, Dirk hadn't cried once since his days as a squalling infant. But in that moment, with dried blood stiffening his T-shirt and the body of his brother at his feet, he understood perfectly well why some people felt the need.