a/n - I'm almost 20 years old and I started this fic almost 2 years ago.

It's time to finally end this.

One Hell of a Trip

His heart plummeted in his chest; it seemed to sink lower and lower with each passing second, with each increment of life fading from Goten's life force. Goku felt a wave of panic clutch him, and out of desperation he impatiently muttered, "Come on, come on...I'm almost there...just hang on!"

Vegeta stuck close to Goku's side, buzzing through the sky at a dizzying pace, the ground a blur beneath them. Time seemed to stretch on forever, until two distinct shapes appeared in the horizon before them, and three separate powers began to grow closer.

Relief was palpable on Goku's face, but the fear didn't subside until he was within arm's reach of the three.

"Dad!" Gohan cried, voice strained and eyes widening. "It's Goten, he-"

"I know, I felt everything." Goku responded, cutting off Gohan as he spoke. He scooped his youngest child in his arms, wincing at the warm blood beginning to soak into his chest. Blearily, the child's eyes opened up, struggling to focus on his father's face. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and Goku swore he felt the beginnings of a chill emanating from his body.

"D-dad...dy..." Goten whispered through cracked lips, mouth trembling as it began to break out in a smile. "I-"

"Sh, Goten," Goku murmured, clutching his son close to him. "Daddy's here, it's okay now, you're going to be fine." He glanced at Vegeta, his face still taut with tension, "Do you still have the sensu beans?"

Rather than answering, the Saiyan prince held out the small bag of seeds instead.

Goku's shoulders slumped in relief, and he eagerly took it.

Instantly, color flooded back into the child's face; his eyes widened open, now regaining their familiar youthful spark. Springing from his father's arm, Goten cried out, "That meanie! That really hurt!"

If only out of a need to cut the constant stress that had plagued them, the group chuckled in a strained sort of tension at Goten's antics.

A weight having been lifted off his shoulders, Goku clapped Gohan on the shoulder and gave him a hearty, somber stare. "Listen, son, you did well so far. But I need you and Goten to go home now, okay?"

"What? You can't possibly be suggesting that now, of all times!" Gohan seethed, his muscles still taut with anger. "We need everyone as soon as possible, or-"

"Shh," Goku said soothingly, placing both hands on his son's shoulders now, "Listen to me. I have a plan. And I'm afraid you and Goten are just going to get in the way. I appreciate the help so far, but really, you need to go home now. Plus, someone has to reassure your mom that we aren't all dead already."

Gohan slumped beneath his father's touch, a stubborn light burning in his dark eyes. Finally, with a weighty and begrudging sigh, he relented, tugging his kid brother towards him.

"Come on, you heard dad."

"That's not fair! I wanna get back at that big ol' meanie!" Goten stuck out his bottom lip, pouting sullenly. Gohan didn't seem much farther off, with a brooding look storming over his face.

Goku laughed, but though the humor shone in his voice, it didn't quite meet his eyes. "I know, son, but you have to trust me right now, okay?" He said patiently, bending down to meet Goten's eyes. "You do trust your old man, don't you?"

"Goku," Vegeta and Piccolo both warned, their gazes snapping to the horizon. Hundreds of plummeting life forces could be felt, as hundreds of humans fell victim to the mass slaughter. A silence descended.

No words were shared, but both sons nodded with somber faces, and fled towards the direction of their rural home.

"So, what's this plan of yours?" Piccolo inquired after a beat of continued silence, glancing questioningly at the bundle in Vegeta's crossed arms.

"I thought of something, when we were at Bulma's place," Goku said, turning his gaze towards the Namekian, a confident smile taking place on his face. "Piccolo, you're a Namekian, right?"

"...is that even a question?"

"And Namekians have thick skin, don't they?"

Piccolo sighed irritably. "And all Saiyans have tails. What's your point, Goku? An anatomy lesson?"

"Shouldn't your thick skin make you immune to King Dust's venom?"

"Well, I'll be damned," Vegeta swore, staring at Goku with a disgruntled yet surprised look, "You really do have a plan."

"Hm," Piccolo grunted, crossing his arms as a way to save face. "I'm ashamed to say, I hadn't thought of that. But you're right."

Goku beamed, looking proud.

"So, here's the deal; we all get King Dusts attention, then Piccolo hits him when he's least expecting it, allowing us," Goku shared a glance with Vegeta, a childish grin sneaking across his lips. Vegeta rolled his eyes in response. "to trap him in this little thing Bulma made for us!"

"Still idiotic," Vegeta grumbled, "but I suppose it's all we have right now."

"I still don't understand what exactly that is." Piccolo questioned, taking the material from Vegeta.

"That's not important-"

Vegeta snorted.

"Well, whatever," Piccolo interrupted the moment the two began to bicker, "It's a plan, at least."

"So we're agreed!" Goku said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's go raise some hell, then."

For the first time since King Dust arrived, the city was finally quiet.

Blood pooled in the broken streets; rivulets intertwined down cracked asphalt and scattered debris, corpses were casted everywhere, lifeless and unseeing. The air was choked with the metallic stench of blood and death, and the oppressing weight of tragedy.

And yet, King Dust stood still, midst it all.

Power radiated from him in waves, so staggering it was enough to physically shock a person. His body, more solid and nearly fully formed now, was dripping in equal parts inky flesh and human blood.

A cold smile split his face, cruel and lifeless.

Dead. All dead.

There was more out there, he could feel their wretched power humming from the earth beneath him. But their deaths would come later, following the utter annihilation of this planet itself. For now, he soaked in the power running through him. The raw, unfiltered strength that gave him hope, eased the bitter little knot of resentment that had hardened in his chest since his home planet was eradicated.

He stopped, suddenly, thoughts banishing from his head. Ah, of course, he hadn't killed them yet. The rest of the world would wait a little longer, unfortunately for him.

"What do you want now? Didn't I kill your little brat a second ago? Wasn't that enough for you?" King Dust sneered, crossing his arms across his chest. A cocky smile twisted itself across his face.

Goku and the others simply stared, hovering slightly off the ground. King Dust would've felt chilled, if he had more than a half-solid mass of flesh as his body; their sobering, cold stares drilled into him, oozing the utmost of confidence. He felt the itch to wipe them all out right now, smear their blood across the ground and paint their faces with fear and terror.

"What?" The villain asked, tilting his head. "You have a plan, I presume." He made a great show of sighing, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "What can I do, I suppose, but grant you this little charade, if it will make you understand the hopelessness of this situation."

Goku smiled, but it didn't speak of any warmth or humor. King Dust frowned, straightening himself to address this new challenger. Something didn't feel right, not at all.

"Enough of this." King Dust snapped impatiently. "Are you going to do something other than stand there, staring at me like dumb mutes?"

Finally, Goku glanced at Vegeta and Piccolo. They gazed back with hard, ready stares.

"Ready?"

They nodded, uncrossing their arms and flaring their power levels.

Goku grinned, then stared coldly at King Dust.

"Now!"

To Be Continued