Hi everyone! Welcome to another one of my Avengers stories!

As you can probably tell, my finals are over and I have less than a week left in the school year. Expect a lot more Avengers fics from me in the coming months because I'll have a lot of free time, I love to write, and I still haven't gotten over Age of Ultron.

This is just a short oneshot that came into my head one day and I wanted to try writing it. It takes place after my first Avengers story, Twelve Days, but you don't have to read that first to be able to understand this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, or any of their characters. If I did, I would probably not be posting stories on a fanfiction site.

Enjoy!

If Pietro had been a second slower or taken just a second longer to react, he would have been shot with multiple bullets and most assuredly would have died.

As it was, he managed to move fast enough to prevent such a fate.

He heard the bullets land in the drywall behind him with a dull thunk and hang there, quivering. He almost got killed by another flyby because he was too busy staring at them, trying to contemplate how something so small could have such a big impact on the lives of innocent people-even end them entirely.

Clint nodded once to him. "Thanks, kid." The little boy he'd been trying to protect rushed back to the waiting transport and jumped into his mother's arms, spouting Sokovian. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. You?"

"A little rattled. Nothing else. Come on-let's get out of here. Most of the transports have already left. In fact, I think this may be the last one."

Pietro glanced at the transport, filled with dozens of Sokovian men, women, and children all with terror in their eyes. They weren't the only ones, either-there was an entire helicarrier packed full of civilians. He shook his head. Because of Ultron, all these people could have died. And he'd even helped that A.I. at one point. They'd been on the same side-until Pietro had discovered what Ultron's real endgame had been.

Besides, his sister wasn't on board yet. She was still defending the core, and someone had to tell her it was time to leave. "No. I have to find Wanda."

Clint nodded. "Hurry up-and for heaven's sake, find a transport. I want you both out alive."

Pietro couldn't see that happening, but he was determined to give it his all. "We'll try." Then he began to run-and soon Clint was only a speck behind him on the other side of the city.

He still heard Clint's voice over his com. "I'm serious, kid. I'm saving two seats on this transport and we'll stall as long as we can."

"Thanks."

As he ran, Pietro couldn't help being bombarded with memories. There was the farmer's market where his mother had taken him on the weekends. It was deserted now, but all its produce was still there-a few apples rolled across the ground dejectedly. He passed the secondary school where he and Wanda had gone for a few years-the highest they'd ever gotten was the ninth grade. That all seemed so far away now, especially because he'd spent the last three years in a government facility.

Finally, he reached the core. It was still being hit by wave upon wave of robots. Wanda was holding her own, killing one after another mechanically and methodically. Pietro knew she could last for a very long time-but he didn't think she'd be able to hold out forever.

He noticed that a robot had somehow come up behind her and she wasn't aware of it. It raised a hand, ready to fry her brain-but it never got a chance. Pietro was too fast-as always.

Wanda spun around and Pietro almost got blasted with a ball of red magic. He raised a hand to get her attention and waited for her eyes to lose the reddish tinge they always acquired when she used her powers. "Whoa, slow down. It's just me."

Ever so slowly, she relaxed. "Pietro? What are you doing here?"

"You told me to come back when all the transports were filled and everyone had safely been evacuated. Well, here I am." He backhanded another robot into the wreck of a stone wall almost carelessly; his opponent broke into five pieces, the carnage littering the gravel floor.

"Are you certain that everyone else is gone?"

"Yes. We did it, Wanda." We're Avengers now. "Come on. Clint has a transport waiting for us."

"Where will we go?"

"New York City. That's where the other Avengers live. They say it's a nice place."

"Our home is here, Pietro. It always has been. We were born here. This is where we grew up."

"Just because we were born here doesn't mean we have to die here!" He didn't understand why she wasn't coming with him. "We can start over. We've done it once before. We can do it again."

"Yes, but how do we truly know that SHIELD is any better than HYDRA? What if there are more experiments-more tests?"

"We can run away. They never said we had to be members of the team." He thought of Clint and his two young children-with a third on the way. The Avengers worked for peace, for their families and for the world-not like HYDRA, who existed only to plant seeds of discord in peoples' minds. He was beginning to see both sides of the issue clearly-to see the big picture. And he thought he had finally found the right side. "But we have to go." The city was beginning to shake alarmingly. Whatever Tony was planning to do was beginning now.

When Wanda looked at him, there was a new fire in her eyes-one Pietro had never seen there before. "I have a job to do, Pietro. I have to defend the core."

"Yes, and you did. You did wonderfully. But now we have to go before this place is vaporized into nothingness." He figured the vaporization would even destroy bodies-complete and total obliteration and annihilation.

She looked at him almost sadly. "My job will never be done. Not until I make sure everyone is safe."

And then he knew.

She was planning to sacrifice herself to ensure the safety of the world and its seven billion inhabitants.

"Wanda, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. This is all my fault, and I have to atone for my mistakes."

"How can you possibly say that?"

"I was the one who wanted to meet Ultron. I was the one who said we should join him."

"You didn't know-"

"I almost tore the Avengers apart. I almost allowed him to win."

"Wanda, none of this is your fault. No one blames you. No one is asking for retribution. We were confused and grieving, and we let that grief cloud our judgment. Neither of us was thinking clearly." He killed another Ultron bot, almost working on autopilot by now.

"I want retribution for myself." The city shook alarmingly and she pushed him toward the doorway, back to the city. Buildings were beginning to crumble. A cloud of dust hung in the air, making each breath a struggle. "Go, Pietro. There's still time for you to get to the transport."

"No. I'm not leaving you."

"Stop being ridiculous. We don't have time for this. You need to leave before it's too late."

"We go together or we don't go at all."

He could see her resign herself-because this time he wasn't joking around. This time he was completely serious and couldn't be swayed. The Maximoffs had come into this world together.

There was almost a sense of poetic justice in the fact that they would be taken out of it together too.

As wave after wave of robots attacked the core, the twins stayed firm. They destroyed the robots almost absentmindedly, not allowing even one to get close. Pietro could practically feel his window of opportunity closing, but he didn't mind. It was his sister and him against the world-just like old times.

Just then, the city shook so hard that Pietro stumbled and almost fell. The place seemed to be falling apart at the seams-any second now it would destroy itself completely.

Finally, with one final onslaught that left Pietro's legs aching and Wanda seeing dark spots, the robots abruptly stopped coming. Instinctively, Pietro knew the job was finished. They were the only ones alive in the city now, man or metal.

Clint's voice crackled to life in his ear. "Where are you, kid? We have to leave."

"Clint?"

Clint stopped his rant abruptly. "Yeah?"

"Did we do our job? Is everyone safe?"

"Yes, everyone's-"He suddenly broke off midsentence. "No, Pietro. You're not seriously thinking-Wait, kid. No. Come on, let's get you out of here."

"We haven't succeeded until every single Ultron bot is dead."

"Kid, come to your senses-"

"I'm staying with my sister. We're doing what you told us to, Clint. We're being Avengers."

"Pietro, no-"

"And Avengers save the world. Godspeed, old man." And with that, he turned off his ear piece for the final time.

Wanda was already walking back out into the wreck of the city. "There's something we have to do first."

Ultron was waiting for them in the wreck of an old train. He looked weaker than Pietro had ever seen him-almost broken. Did he know he was facing defeat? Then again, Pietro wondered, how could he not? "Pietro, Wanda. The two of you will die if you stay here."

The twins exchanged a look. Of course, it had always been at the back of Pietro's mind that they wouldn't walk out of here alive if they continued with their course of action, but it hadn't seemed real until now. They would be going the same way as Ultron-destruction.

And Pietro was okay with that. "We've made our decision."

"I still remember the night our parents died. Don't you, Pietro?" Wanda asked quietly.

"Yes, of course."

"Do you remember how it felt?"

"Like I was being torn apart. I was ten years old. I didn't know what to do, or how to move forward. It was a terrible feeling."

Wanda turned to face the robot. "Maybe you don't know how it feels. It felt like this." She reached through layers of metal in the robot's broken chest and pulled out something small and black-a heart. She sent magic streaking inside of it, carefully softening it, so she could crush it with one quick twist. "I don't want that to happen to any other children."

It almost happened to Clint.

And with that Ultron died, killed by his last and best lieutenants.

The city shook again and Pietro turned to his sister, who was still holding the heart as though she didn't know exactly what to do with it. "Good job. Now, let's go find a place with a better view."

Pietro's first choice would have been a rooftop, where he could watch the entire city spread out below him. Of course, that was out of the question. Most of the buildings were unstable and liable to fall apart with just the slightest amount of pressure. And that wasn't exactly the way he wanted to go down, crushed in a falling building.

Eventually they found a small section of green grass right on the edge of the flying city. If they looked down far enough, through layer upon layer of cloud vapor, Pietro could see the world spread out below him-busy people rushing back and forth, to and fro. No one would miss them. No one would care.

And yet, strangely, it didn't matter. They didn't matter. The only person who really mattered was sitting next to him-he could feel her knee against his-watching the world with just as much interest as he was. Watching all those people who would never know Pietro and Wanda Maximoff had died to save them.

"Remember what Father used to call us when we were young children?" Wanda asked.

"His little Sokovian firecrackers. And stars. He called us stars a lot too."

"He always said we would be great-even greater than he was. He said we would do things the rest of the world could only dream about."

"And maybe he was right. Maybe we were great. Maybe we've made penance with the rest of our mistakes."

"Do you think they'll be there? Do you think they'll wait for us?"

He took her hand, covered in dust, dirt, and grime. The air was thinner up here and harder to breathe. But even so, Pietro couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more at peace. "They'll be there. I know they will."

"Thank you for staying with me."

"You're my sister. I would never leave you to die." I would never leave you for any reason-ever.

Unwilling, he remembered those days spent in the HYDRA compound separated from her, in a cell on one side of a brick wall. He remembered knowing that she'd been just on the other side of the wall, but he hadn't been able to see her. He hadn't been able make sure she was all right. He remembered the scepter and how it had burned…how Wanda's powers had developed first and they'd put her through test after test…

He remembered how she had screamed sometimes, when the scientists thought he wasn't listening. He remembered how frustrated he'd felt that there had been nothing he could do to save her.

He never wanted to have that feeling again. "Mr. Stark was right. This is a vulnerable world."

"It almost makes you feel sorry to have to leave it."

"I suppose we just have to hope-to have faith that as long as there is life on this earth, people will fight to defend it. But this isn't so bad a way to go-with family."

The city began to break apart beneath them. Any second now, Pietro would feel that inevitable stomach drop as he plunged to certain doom-or the feeling of being torn apart from the inside.

And still he didn't mind.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" he asked, wiping a smudge of mud off his sister's face.

"Of course. And I love you too. Pietro, what do you think death is like? Do you think it will hurt?"

"No. I've heard it said that death comes in a form most comforting to you. We'll be okay-both of us. No matter where we end up."

And then they faced the world head on, as the city was torn to pieces beneath their feet. For a second, Pietro hung suspended in midair, not quite alive and not quite dead. He felt Wanda's hand wrenched away from his and felt a stabbing pain in his gut as she was ripped away from him forever.

Then everything went black.

Pietro was jolted awake as he fell out of bed and landed on the cold tile with a thump. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was-not dead. Not even in Sokovia anymore.

He was safe, back in the new Avengers facility in upstate New York. The battle had already happened and had ended very differently.

Just then, his bedroom door opened on well-oiled hinges and Wanda stepped inside. She was wiping sleep from her eyes; the clock on Pietro's nightstand read 3:45 A. M. "Pietro? Are you all right? You cried out."

"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare." he replied. He felt bad for waking her.

"Has it gone yet?"

"I suppose." He could still feel its aftereffects-a cold and debilitating terror that seemed to encase his heart.

She sat down next to him, tracing a marking on the floor over and over with a fingertip. "What did you dream about?"

"The battle in Sokovia. I dreamt that we didn't get out in time and we were vaporized with the rest of the city. I don't want to die, Wanda, and I don't want you to die either. But sooner or later I won't be able to protect the people I love. I won't be able to protect you. And that's what terrifies me."

She was quiet for a long time, choosing her words carefully. While Pietro was impulsive and hot tempered, Wanda was emotional and logical. She always thought about what she was going to say before she said it-a skill Pietro really appreciated.

"Sometimes I dream about these things too." she said after a while. "We've both lived it. We both know what it feels like to be helpless. We need to accept that death is a natural part of life, not something to resent or to hate. In a way, it's just another adventure-just another stop on our journey. And I suppose, in a way, I will never really leave you and you will never truly leave me-no matter what. I believe we're too close for that. We've seen too much, done too many things that we should never have had to do. We have a connection-and we have each other's love. There have been times when we've had nothing else, but that love has been enough to sustain and protect us. It will continue to do so. You know it will. No matter what."

Pietro could feel his heart rate returning to normal. "You're right. And yet sometimes I still worry."

"We're Avengers now. This is our line of work. Would you rather have a desk job at some company, where you have to sort papers all day for hours on end?"

He laughed. "No. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Neither would I. This is our life now."

Pietro was quickly realizing that it had just been a dream-and only a dream. It had no power over him because it simply wasn't real.

But these moments with his sister, the little moments they shared together apart from the rest of the world, they were real. They mattered.

And nothing-dream or reality, good times or bad-could ever change that fact.

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