Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Powerpuff Girls' or any characters/ groups mentioned in this story from TV shows.

The Second Time Around

Buttercup staggered. Her hands and knees scraped against the concrete, and she dry heaved onto the pavement. It wasn't the first time her run had ended with a head dive. Her arms began to shake, and Buttercup dragged a hand across her sweaty face. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists against her eyes until the darkness burst into colourful spots.

Running never helped. Yes, it made her heart race, her legs burn, and her breath rip from her throat, but the adrenaline never came– not like it used to. Buttercup felt herself well up, and ground her hands harder against her eyes.

"Damn Professor," she muttered. He was supposed to have an answer to everything. Yet, he had no solution for her faded powers. The only thing he could give her were those 'words of wisdom', as Blossom had put it: They fade with age, Buttercup. View it as a blessing, Buttercup.

Screw that. Bubbles still had her sonic scream, and Blossom was able to use her ice breath, and they were all sixteen. But she had nothing; if being so pathetic was a blessing, then she'd prefer to be cursed.

"Whoa."

Buttercup's eyes snapped open, but the world in front of her was a multi-coloured blur. She blinked rapidly, and before her eyes had even adjusted, scrambled to her feet.

"I see you're still having a hard time with…. you know." The voice sounded familiar, and as her vision began to clear she could confirm, that yes, it was Mitch.

"No, I don't know," she rasped. But it was a lie. Everyone near to her could tell that even after a month of 'ordinary', she was no closer to coping. It was obvious in the way they tiptoed around her.

Mitch snorted, and reached forward to grasp her chin. He tilted her face left and right, leaning close enough to entirely block the sun's rays. "Been getting any sleep?"

She slapped his hand away. "Quit it. I'm fine. Nothing to dissect here."

Mitch froze.

He was… creepy when they were kids. Everyday he'd slice something open, and every week it'd be larger than the last. A beetle, a wasp, a grass hopper – but it only became truly weird when he started his operations on warm blooded creatures.

"Shit," she muttered, "I didn't mean to bring that up."

He ran a hand over his dark buzz cut, standing at full height. "Just remember you weren't too popular either. Every kid was afraid of you."

Mitch had it fixed in his head that she had been just as lonely as he was, and that was the reason she stuck around his animal-mutilating younger self. Wrong. It was the hero in her. Obviously.

"I wasn't alone back then. Everybody knew me."

His eyebrows shot up. "Everybody knew about you."

"Whatever." She didn't need to re-live the past – especially when he wasn't remembering it right. "So how did you find me anyway?"

He pointed to his right, and she read the building's name: Jubilee Gym. It was then that she noticed Mitch's grey vest top and black shorts. His arms and legs were well sculpted, and suddenly it was clear why. "When did you start hitting the gym?"

"It's been a while actually. You didn't notice?" Buttercup simply shrugged and Mitch chuckled. "Of course you didn't notice."

"I've had my own things going on," she said. Even though she knew she didn't need to explain to Mitch. He was a stoic guy with a soft spot when Buttercup was concerned. He had total control over his emotions, hell, he had control over hers. She would have knocked out half of Townsville without him. "So hey, I'm free tonight, want to hang out?"

"Again?"

"Yeah." She needed a distraction from her life. "It can be your way of apologising to me."

"Why do you think I want to apologise?"

"Because," Buttercup grinned, "you haven't done it yet."

He raised an arm and squinted against a ray of morning sunlight. "Can't make it. I have a date. Besides, we've been hanging out every night for the past few weeks. You need to find something else to occupy your time Buttercup." He rubbed a hand over his buzz cut. "Try and get back into crime fight –"

"Forget it. Shouldn't have asked you."

Mitch nodded, very slowly, and sighed. "Okay. Alright. I'm going to start my workout. Just text me whenever."

"Sure," she said.

The gym's door shut and exhaustion washed over Buttercup. She allowed herself to slouch against the wall as her legs trembled. The drying sweat drew a chill to her skin that left her hair standing on end. With a parched throat, she could imagine how harsh her voice had sounded. But Mitch was harsher; he didn't recognise a cry for help when he heard one.

Buttercup cupped her hands over her mouth and groaned into her palms. But she wanted to scream. She was just so exhausted. Everything – everyone – exhausted her.

It was confirmed: running never helped. She had no idea why she kept trying and hoping that it would.

Buttercup turned the key and stepped through the front door. The Utonium household was a flurry of activity so early in the morning. Based on the novels sprawled across the dining table, Blossom had her book club planned for later; you'd think a popular teen hero would have actual plans for her summer break.

The red head scurried out of the kitchen and into the dining room with a plate full of cookies and three glass cups, realising too late that the dining table was full.

"Buttercup, is that you? A little help please?"

She was tempted to ignore Blossom. But, today at least, her sister had said nothing wrong. "Yeah it's me." She swept the book pile onto the floor, and helped set the cups down. "How'd you guess?"

Blossom glanced at the heap of books; one of the spines had bent inwards. "Hmm? Oh, you never shut the door gently," she muttered, crouching to snatch up her books, "you never seem to do anything gently."

"You're welcome," Buttercup snapped. It was insane to believe she could have had a conversation with the uptight perfectionist for even a second. "I'm heading to the lab, so don't bother me."

"To train? You'll just wear yourself out, we have a sparring session in an hour."

Buttercup turned to her sister. Blossom rarely joked, and when she did, she didn't smile. "So you're inviting me this time, huh?"

The pink eyed puff paused in her book arrangement. When she met Buttercup's gaze there was pity in her eyes. "You have always been welcome. The same way you've always been welcome at missions Buttercup. I don't… we don't understand why you never come."

Buttercup scowled, because anger was the only emotion she could express without breaking down. She wanted to insist that they didn't need her anymore, she wanted to complain that she was the only powerless puff, she wanted to ask how she could defeat a criminal when a sheet of paper could make her bleed. And she wanted to curse, because she was even weaker than freaking Bubbles.

Instead she raised her head. "I have better things to do."

Blossom fixed her gaze on Buttercup. At times like these, her pink eyes were unsettling, because she wasn't even watching you anymore. Her mind had wandered. It was like she'd absorbed so much information that her brain was buffering. She blinked and snapped her head sideways, causing her high ponytail to slap against her chest. "…If I give Amy the damaged book, she'll get annoyed and take it out on Daisy again. Leaving her friendless and free for Princess to pick on. No one wants that…" she mumbled, already thinking hours ahead. Blossom stood up and headed to her room, having forgotten Buttercup. Then she paused and glanced back. "You're scared –"

"Maybe you don't know me –"

"Don't be. You're still the toughest fighter."

Buttercup swallowed down a lump in her throat, and Blossom left. Forget training. Her room was the only safe place.

She took the stairs two at a time and collapsed on her bed. It had been a month since she woke up completely powerless. At first she had thrown herself into sparring sessions, often battling both Blossom and Bubbles just to confirm her own self-worth. But when her sisters' remaining powers refused to blink out of existence, she couldn't find the point of it all; if they wanted, they could win. If they tried, they could stop her.

It was the same with every villain out there. What would she use to defeat them? Her good intentions?

Buttercup rolled onto her stomach and groaned into her pillow. She hadn't stopped sweating since she walked through the front door, and now even her bangs were plastered to her forehead. She brushed it aside, but the action only drew her attention to the strands clinging to her shoulder blades. And to think, she had begun to admire the length. For a brief while, she had even understood why Blossom insisted on such a long ponytail. Through knife attacks, explosions, and near-misses, her pink eyed sister had never willingly trimmed an inch from her head; it was bordering on obsessive. Buttercup could count to infinity, the occasions when Blossom's rope of red hair was used to hurl, fling, and slam her into buildings.

Actually, maybe she should bring it up. Back then it was funny, but now… well, Bossy Bloss in the hospital would be irritating for everyone involved. Buttercup made a mental note to stage an intervention.

A knock sounded at her door. She didn't bother answering.

"Buttercup?" It was Bubbles. She knocked again, harder this time. "Buttercup? Blossom said you'd finished your run. Buttercup?"

Christ. You'd think she was trying to memorise her name or something. "What?" she snapped, already knowing how the conversation would flow. Bubbles was somewhat predictable; when there was an argument, she'd take the side that caused less conflict. In this case, Blossom's.

There was a pause. "We, uh, we're going to spar now – Blossom and I. It will be great if you come… I mean we hardly see you anymore."

Buttercup shut her eyes; she'd heard this once today already. Taking a deep breath she reminded herself that this was Bubbles – annoying, nosy, well-intentioned Bubbles. "No thanks," she replied evenly.

"Oh. Are you sure? We could train somewhere else. I mean, I do need to ask you something, so maybe just you and –"

"I'm sure." Peeling herself off the bed, she scanned the desk for her iPhone. Her battery was low, but she quickly texted Mitch: Want to hang right now?

Sounds good. But why now? Came his lightning quick response.

She didn't want to be anywhere near her sisters. Not when they were honing their skills and testing their abilities – abilities she no longer had. They'd be judging her, gauging just how much of a failure she was with their own eyes. But she'd never admit this to Mitch. So instead, she just texted: I'm going crazy.

She stripped out of her workout gear and entered the shower without even waiting for his reply.

Buttercup checked her phone again, it had been an hour and two minutes since she last texted Mitch, with no response. Who was separated from their phone for a whole hour?

There was a chill in the air, and the late morning sky looked like it was about to give way to a storm. Buttercup wrapped her varsity jacket tighter around herself and glared at the trailer door. Mitch knew she was coming. So where the hell was he?

She thought about knocking, but then quickly scrapped the idea. Mitch's trailer was already decorated with a variety of fist-sized dents, courtesy of Buttercup's super powered temper, so Mitch's mum wasn't exactly fond of her. Apparently she wasn't the 'sort' he should be associating with. Buttercup found this funny. Her temper had protected Mitch from vicious rumours and rampant spit balls on more than one occasion. She was like his own freaking guardian angel.

She tapped her foot repeatedly as the sky began to darken. Finally she decided to text Mitch again: You do realise it only takes ten minutes from my place to yours, right?

I'm not at my place, my mum's home.

Where r you? She wrote, already backing away from the trailer.

Junkyard.

? She texted back.

You said you were going crazy – that usually means you want to hit something.

She sighed and began to jog. Mitch knew her well, she'd give him that. But the junkyard was on the other side of town. It hadn't been a significant distance when she could fly, but now her legs felt like lead and her lungs were screaming with the effort. She paused and clutched her side as a stitch formed.

Above her, thunder clapped and the first streak of lighting illuminated the sky. Buttercup had half a mind to cancel. She pulled out her phone, only to find that the battery had died. "Shit," she muttered. And then a raindrop slapped against her forehead. "Come on!"

Stuffing the phone into her pocket, she searched herself for change. By the time she had inspected each section, even her jacket was dripping. Buttercup scowled at every single person who so much as peeked in her general direction. She wanted to ditch Mitch. And if she hadn't been so damn sure that he'd wait for her out in this storm, then she'd have been long gone.

She made an attempt to neaten her drenched fringe and then stepped out into the road. A car swerved, barely skidding to a halt in front of her. "Hey," she said coolly, leaning against the car's front hood.

The driver wound down his window, at first stunned, and then… not. "What the hell is wrong with you? Get off the freaking road! I could have died, you crazy –"

"I'm Buttercup Utonium. I have Powerpuff business," she said, fighting to keep a straight face. Blossom had always been against using their superhero status for 'perks'. But honestly, the Mayor didn't even give them a pay check.

"I don't care if you have business with the bloody Avengers, just get the hell out of my way!"

Buttercup paused. Was this guy kidding? "Listen man, I'm Buttercup Utonium. I've saved this town's ass more times than you've taken a dump."

"Yeah? Call me when you've saved Citiesville." He snorted. "Look at you walking around like you're something special – I hear you 'heroes' don't even have powers anymore!"

Buttercup scratched welts into his paintjob; If only she could carve strokes through his engine. "This town is about to blow to pieces," she lied. "And yes, that means you and your lopsided toupee will also go flying. So we should really help each other out."

The driver's face was now beet red. He revved his engine.

Buttercup took a step back from the car, and planted her feet. The rain was blurring her vision, and now even her bra was well and truly soaked. "Or, you could just run me over and be thrown in jail. We have some really interesting guys in there. You see we don't discriminate; the 'power proof' jail is for everyone."

She flashed a smile. It was meant to be superior – like something Blossom would give if her robotic hard drive allowed happiness – but she'd been told too many times, by too many people, that she couldn't quite pull off 'superior', it was always 'sinister'.

The driver swore under his breath. His nostrils flared, and his glare was harsh enough that she actually felt a small kernel of guilt.

And then, his engine cut.

Buttercup jumped inside.

"You're dripping all over my seats," he growled.

She sat back, knowing full well there would be a wet imprint when she left. "You know the Junkyard right? It's the large eyesore you passed on your way into town. Take me there."

"Spoiled brat," he spat. But still, he drove.

I'm back. And I can't seem to write anything else until I get this story out of my system. Update soon! Don't forget to R&R