Kink Meme Prompt: "Would like to read a story in Butch's POV going over his history with a female Lone Wanderer up to her return to 101. As kids, they have the standard bully and victim relationship, but when they're 17 or 18, he discovers a dark or shocking secret the LW is hiding. Can be anything, so long as it's shocking enough to change his opinion of the LW and forces him to see her in a new light."

Warning(s): Triggering chapters. Instances of drug use and dub-con. Oh, and psychological trauma. I mean for the character(s), not the reader. Please don't leave…

Setting: Fallout 3.

A/N: Fill for the kink meme. My muse has taken a vacation from Mass Effect and is now frolicking in Fallout, so naturally I went perusing for kink meme prompts. This was initially supposed to be a one-shot, but as usual, my writing has a mind of its own and goes wherever it wants against my wishes.

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- I -

The switchblade flicked open and closed in a repeating rhythm that echoed throughout the dark corridor. Farther down, the murmured conversation in the old classroom contrasted with the sharper sounds of the weapon he was idly manipulating in his hands. He shifted his position against the wall, restlessness preventing his body from staying still for too long. The leather of his jacket rubbed along the smooth metal surface, the faded emblem on his back alluding to the derelict status of the Tunnel Snakes. Blood was thicker than water, and when blood had called in the form of Wally's family issues and Paul's demise, the watery delusions he'd had of his adolescent gang trickled right through his fingers. One more reason why he couldn't stay. The Tunnel Snakes had a future out there.

He had a few minutes at most to make up his mind, and the pressure grew heavier with each passing second. On one hand, braving the unknown Wasteland by himself promised less than favorable outcomes, the obvious ones being starvation and death. On the other, the only person with outside experience was, at that moment, walking out of Vault 101 for the second and final time, and he'd be damned if he went crawling after her, asking to tag along. After everything that had happened, he'd count himself lucky if she made him her flunky. And therein lay the problem.

Butch DeLoria answered to no one… even Ivy Ashburn.

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(March 2263)

"Goddammit, Ellen! That was the last bottle for the week!" Hank DeLoria yelled.

The little boy slung his backpack over his shoulders and stood quietly by the apartment entrance. He watched as his father stormed across the small living room and grabbed the empty liquor bottle from the hand of the hungover woman draped over the sofa. Butch flinched at the sound of the glass shattering against the metal wall, hands balling into fists inside his pockets.

"Jesus, shut the hell up and stop hurling shit. My head is pounding," his mother groaned as she threw a groggy arm over her eyes.

"Hey, watch your fuckin' language around our kid," Hank snarled, kicking the leg of the sofa. "And what's the deal finishing my whiskey, huh? How're you gonna make it up to me?"

Ellen glared at him from beneath her arm. "Hello, Dr. Ashburn said no more alcohol for you. Remember? Your liver is basically screwed, so I'm doing you a damn favor."

"Fuck what James said. That greenhorn physician don't know what the hell he's talkin' about."

"Whatever. Just give me a few hours to sleep this off. Now go take Butch to school. It's his first day," Ellen grumbled, already rolling over to show him her back.

Butch turned away as his father lost his temper. He peered out the entrance window and saw several families walking by, all wearing the standard 101 jumpsuit. After a minute, his jaw clenched at the sight of the excited kids as they met and chatted with each other, forging early friendships. A few seemed nervous, but their parents held their hands in a way that he figured was supposed to be comforting.

Wimps. They're all dumb.

He looked up when his father trudged next to him, smoothing back his gelled black hair and adjusting his utility suit.

"All right, let's go, son," Hank muttered, pushing the button to open the door. "I'm gonna be late for work."

Butch glanced once at his mother nursing her bruised cheek before following his father outside.

Upon arriving at the classroom, he decided he didn't like school. Hank had abruptly dropped him off at the entrance, where he loitered while staring at the activity inside. Most of the other parents had stuck around to speak with the teacher, Mr. Brotch, as the students claimed desks and either socialized or kept to themselves. Educational posters featuring the Vault Boy mascot decorated the walls and promoted careers in chemistry, engineering, and mathematics. He snorted and stepped inside, selecting a desk at the very back to drop his things on.

A black boy chose that moment to approach him. "Hi, I'm Paul. Can I sit here?"

Butch shrugged. "Don't care. Just don't talk to me."

Undeterred, Paul took the seat in front of him and kept talking. "My mom gave me a new box of crayons. Wanna see a picture I drew?"

"No."

"Wanna see the crayons?"

"Argh… no."

"How 'bout my copy of Captain Cosmos?"

"Jeez, for the last time—wait, what?" Butch asked with sudden interest.

Paul grinned and produced the rare comic book, which was worn and frayed at the edges, but still very much intact. Butch swiped it from his hands, ignoring his request to handle it gently. While neither of them could read yet, the colorful pictures depicting the spacefaring superhero were popular with kids their age. They flipped through the comic together on Butch's desk, pointing at different action panels that stood out. He was about to tell Paul to let him borrow it for a day (or forever) when the entire room suddenly went quiet.

Curious, Butch gazed toward the doorway, where everyone else's eyes had drifted. He recognized the stern figure of the Overseer right away, but didn't understand why others always seemed to be on eggshells whenever he was in the vicinity. From what Butch had heard during Hank's drunken rants, the Overseer was "an asshole who could go fuck himself." While uncertain of the context of that statement, Butch assumed that that meant there was nothing to be afraid of. At the Vault leader's side stood his daughter Amata, her long dark hair tied up in a tight bun. She strode inside at her father's light prodding and made her way to the front, breaking the silence as she politely greeted the adults.

The Overseer stayed a second longer to send the teacher a meaningful look before departing. Butch could almost hear the collective sigh of relief as the noise and chatter resumed. Paul scratched his head, suggesting that he was just as clueless about the big deal with the Overseer, but immediately went back to viewing the comic. Another set of people arrived at that instant, this time a teenager with subtle Asian features, another teen with a skin tone similar to Paul's, and a younger boy Butch assumed to be related to the first one.

"Well… here you are, Wally," Teen #1 grumbled, yawning. "Can't believe Mom and Dad woke me up early just to walk you all the way down here. Susie's fever isn't even that bad."

"Bye, Stevie," was all the stoic boy said as he headed for the nearest desk, which happened to be right next to Butch's.

The other teen was tugging at Stevie's sleeve. "Come on, man, let's get to the cafeteria before—"

"Edwin," Mr. Brotch barked from the other end of the room. "What are you doing here? You'd better not be late for class again this school term."

"I know, Dad. I still have like two hours," Teen #2 complained, rolling his eyes. "I was just helping Stevie deliver one of your runts this year."

"Well, since you're here, I do have some things I need you to deliver to your instructor. Hang on a minute."

Butch snickered as both teens sighed with exasperation. He then glanced at his new seat neighbor, who had actually folded his arms over his desk and gone to sleep. The urge to pull some kind of prank took over, and Butch only half-listened to Paul's continuous ramblings about the comic as he dug through his backpack and found a black marker in the disorganized case of writing utensils Ellen had packed for him. He also found what was supposed to be his lunch, and he wrinkled his nose at the squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the reused brown paper bag. Making a mental note to swap it for someone else's lunch when he got the chance, he edged closer to Wally's slumbering form.

As soon as the cap came off the marker, however, Amata appeared in front of him.

"We're not supposed to bring comics to school, you know," she stated, scowling at both Butch and Paul. "I'm gonna tell Mr. Brotch if you don't put that away."

Paul frowned and obediently moved to close the comic, but Butch stopped him by slamming his palm down on the open pages. The sound startled Wally awake and alerted some of the nearby students, though the adults still conversing at the front hadn't noticed.

"What are ya, the teacher's pet?" Butch asked Amata disdainfully. "Buzz off before I use this marker to make your face even uglier than it is."

Her cheeks reddened with anger as Paul laughed, but as soon as she opened her mouth to give them an earful, the automated bell rang. Butch smirked at her when the parents began filing out and Mr. Brotch called for the students to find seats. With a furious huff, she whirled around and stomped off to her desk near the board. Butch stuck his tongue out at her back as he sat sideways in his chair, giving Paul a high-five. Wally had watched the whole thing, but remained silent as he tried to return to his nap, which earned him sharp admonishment from their teacher.

After patting himself on the back for telling off the Overseer's daughter, two stationary bodies at the entrance drew Butch's attention. The self-satisfied smile evaporated from his face when he recognized the man in the white lab coat as Dr. Ashburn, the physician who had diagnosed his father with some kind of liver disease. Instead of bringing his parents closer together, the diagnosis had only escalated the problems between them. Butch couldn't help the surge of resentment that welled up, especially when he spotted the little girl clamped onto Dr. Ashburn's leg.

She looked shy and nervous, and when Stevie gazed down at her as he and Edwin passed by, she tried to bury her head inside her father's lab coat. Her auburn hair had been tied into two messy pigtails with purple ribbons, and Butch had the sudden desire to yank them as her father crouched down and gave her a tight hug. She held an apple in one hand, apparently meant for Mr. Brotch. Dr. Ashburn flashed a grin at the teacher and gave his daughter a hasty kiss on the cheek, wishing her luck. She was still standing in the doorway after he rushed off, paralyzed with fear when she saw that half the class was staring in her direction.

"Ivy Ashburn?" Mr. Brotch asked, his voice taking on a softer timbre. "Don't be scared, come in."

She shuffled forward with unsteady steps. Butch could sense weakness from a mile away, and as far as he was concerned, she may as well have been wearing a giant target on her head. He pretended to stretch, sticking out his foot as she walked by. Her ankle caught on his sneaker, and with a high-pitched cry, she tripped and landed hard on her face. He burst out laughing, joined by the majority of their classmates. Amata jumped up and hurried to the girl's side, shooting Butch a vicious glower as Ivy curled into a ball on the floor. He couldn't have cared less; the whole thing had been too funny.

Mr. Brotch zeroed in on him. "Let me guess: Butch DeLoria. Welcome to school. Now go sit in timeout."

That cut Butch's guffaws short. He glanced at the corner behind him, where a dunce cap sat on a wooden stool. "Aw, but I was just stretchin' my legs, Teach."

"Funny, I remember a similar incident happening two decades ago when your father was 'just stretching his legs,' too," Mr. Brotch snapped, a vein throbbing in his temple near his graying hair. "So I'm going to tell you what I told him: get your butt in that corner and don't forget to put the hat on."

The snickers and giggles persisted, though this time they were directed at him. Incensed, he rose from his chair and paused to hover over Ivy, who was clutching her bloody nose as Amata helped her sit up. The apple had rolled near his feet, and he prepared to stomp it, not caring that he'd be in even more trouble.

"You're done for, nosebleed," he hissed at her. "I'm gonna have you crying to your mommy all year."

The bright hazel eyes that swung up at him glistened with tears, but her voice remained steady as she spoke through her hands. "My mommy's dead."

His leg froze over the fruit he'd been about to crush. She continued peering up at him, unblinking. After several seconds of disregarding Mr. Brotch's increasing ire, Butch was the first to look away. He set his foot down next to the unharmed apple and proceeded to the corner without saying anything more.

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A/N: Chapters will be distinctly shorter than my other works, but given my notoriety for leaving multi-chaptered fics in limbo, I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that my muse doesn't abandon me (again) before I finish the story. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!