Hello everyone!

First I'd like to say a few things about my newest Fanfiction "Shatter". First of all, this is a slash fic, meaning male/male love. If this bothers you, please be as kind to press the pretty backwards-button. Thank you.

Second: (VERY IMPORTANT) Although this story itself is mine, it is heavily inspired by two other Fanfictions by the great author "jojoseph", called "Split" and "Sometimes", which I recommend heavily on reading first. This story probably won't make that much sense if you don't.

Link to Split: http: / www. fanfiction. net /s / 4330568 / 1 /Split

Link to Sometimes: http: / www. fanfiction. net /s/ 4502690 / 1 /Sometimes

This is an UNAUTORIZED sequel to those two fics. Sadly, I couldn't get in touch with the author who really has sparked my inspiration for this little baby. It seems that the author isn't an active member anymore.

If there is ANY uproar to this story, I will delete it without complaint. I hope fans of the previous two stories won't mind this one.

Okay, now to the usual rant:

Disclaimer: Since I'm not rich, I suppose the BttF series aren't mine. Yet. And the previous stories "Split" and "Sometimes" by the great jojoseph aren't mine either.

Warnings: Biff's very dirty mouth, adult themes, but non-explicipt, characters probably out of character

Rating: M, just to be sure. (Biff really does have a dirty mouth.)

Summary: Biff/Marty slash. Biff doesn't like other people touching what's his. Especially if they attempt to shatter it.

... Now ...

Now, Biff usually contained his anger well enough, these days. That probably came along with being togheter with Marty McFly. That calm, self-assured attitude must've rubbed off. Of course, he still got angry sometimes. He was, after all, a Tannen, and his family was known for it's quickly flaring temper. But usually, Marty was there to hold him back just in time before he did something stupid. Even though he never actually said it, he was grateful that the little runt (as he still called him affectionately) usually got him out of trouble before he actually got in it.

But Marty wasn't here now. And, by god, or whatever, he was going to fucking murder the bastard who did this. No one, really no one, touched what was fucking his.

That was the real issue here. Marty wasn't here. He wasn't here, because that pathetic butt-head cowering in front of him, had really dared to lay a hand on his boyfriend.

Biff knew Marty wasn't weak and usually could handle himself well enough in dire situations. He knew, because really, Marty was incredible. Biff was pretty sure that any other guy who accidentally went to the past, screwed everything up, fixed it last minute, went back to the future, went further to the future, fucked up majorly, came home to find a gruesome changed present, went back again, fixing that as well, then went back even further to save a friend, almost dieing along the way, went back in his time only to almost find himself run over by a train would've probably made the universe explode a long time ago. But Marty hadn't. He could handle himself. Usually.

But not this time. All his wit, his confidence, the cocky attitude, his energy and the experience had been of no use.

... One Day Ago ...

It took much to leave a Tannen feeling helpless and lost. When Biff had found Marty a day ago in the darkest corner of their school's changing rooms, bruised, battered, clothes torn and fucking bleeding, he had been shocked to the core at the sight. But what had him at a total loss was that Marty was crying. Never, in all the time he had known Marty, he had ever seen him cry. He was such a happy person, friendly and outgoing, and beneath it all that astounding mental strenght and confidence, that it had simply seemed impossible.

In that moment, he swore solemnly to himself to never let Marty out of his sight ever again. Slowly, he settled next to Marty, not wanting to scare the younger male further. He wasn't sure if his boyfriend had even noticed his presence so far. He softly set a hand on his shoulder, evoking a slight flinch from Marty, but apart from that no other reaction. He then proceeded in picking him up carefully, not wanting to harm him any further. As he cradled the slender man to his chest, whispering words of comfort to the battered form in his arms, his emotions went haywire. Anger, guilt, worry, affection, love, and a strong surge of protectivness rushed through him in a matter of seconds. He rocked his boyfriend back and forth for seemingly hours, until the trembling subsided slowly and his shoulder didn't feel so wet anymore. The both of them never said a thing to each other, other than Biff's words of comfort. They didn't need to.

Biff's thoughts were spiraling, drifting away, slipping trough, none quite catchable. Finally though, just as Marty started to fall asleep, tired out and exhausted, his mind managed to focus itself on one single thought:

'I'm going to gut that fucking bastard.'

The next half hour went by in a blur. He had carried Marty to his car, had wrapped him in his jacket, drove the both of them to Biff's apartment, cleaned his boyfriend up and called said boyfriends mum to inform her that her son had fallen asleep whilst watching TV and spent the night here. The rest of the night he sat by Martys side, holding his hand while making up the worst case scenarios what could have happened.

... This Morning ...

Marty woke up with a terrible pounding in his head and he was aching all over. He warily peeked one eye open after a few moments, not knowing where he was. Biff's room, he realized. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get here? As he made a move to sit up, he noticed a warm weight on his stomach. Surprised, he found none other than Biff Tannen lying in a rather uncomfortable looking pose laying half on the bed (and on him) and half sitting on a chair. And he was holding his hand.

Marty frowned, because not only was he hurting pretty much everywhere, said hand that Biff was holding was also bandaged. Not to mention the position Biff was in, who usually avoided being affectionate like the plague.

Then, he remembered.

The taunting words, the insults, the threatening, the punches. Marty made a shuddering gasp.

Biff reacted instantly. In a second, he woke up, immediately took the situation in and wrapped his arms around Marty just in time for the first choked sob.

"Easy. Just take it easy, and breathe," he said in a strained voice.

He held him wordlessly, waiting patiently until Martys breathing had calmed somewhat down. At least there had been no crying, which relieved him a great deal. An upset Marty, he could probably handle well enough. A crying one however, not so much. He had still issues with showing affection and showing that he did care.

When he felt like Marty had calmed down enough, he pulled gently away a bit and asked, "Who did this?"

Marty, although expecting the question, looked down at his hands, feeling ashamed.

Biff took his chin gently but firmly and lifted Martys head up again. "I wont ask a third time; Who. Did. This?"

There was a thundering silence.

"Was it Needles and his croonies?"

A slight nod. Biff clenched his fists. He felt his anger flare up instantly and with a scaring force but he bit it down for the moment. There was one more thing he needed to know.

"What exactly did they do to you?" Marty looked up at Biff's strained voice, slightly confused. He frowned.

"Uh, well, they..." his voice faded, not really sure how to say it.

"They beat you up?" Biff asked the obvious, but he needed to know.

Marty cocked an eyebrow in a disbelieving manner, pondering shortly if Biff had any mental affliction, but nodded anyway, feeling that this seemed very important to Biff for some reason.

"Did... did they... do anything else?"

Marty's brow furrowed. "Well they threw some pretty heavy insults whilst doing so, but apart from that, no." He hoped this would satisfy Biff, he really seemed to be on edge for some reason, at least more so than Marty had expected.

However, at Martys answer, Biff let out a short breath of relief, visibly calming. There was a short silence, where none of them said anything, until Biff spoke up again.

"I'm going to get those bastards." Martys head shot up.

"No! There's at least five of them, and nothing much happened anyway, and I'm fi-"

"If you're going to tell me you're fine, then it will be your head I'll be pounding in, McFly." Marty shut up immediately. "Nothing much my ass," Biff grumbled more to himself.

Biff then stood up, smoothed out his shirt, ruffled Martys head in an awkward gesture of affection and said "I'll be back in an hour. There's food in the fridge, eat. Then go sleep."

Marty rolled his eyes. "Yes, mum." Trying to stop him was futile, especially when he had that look in his eyes. He knew better that to object. Biff sure was a stubborn one, and quite proudly so.

"Watch your tone, little runt." His counterpart answered in playful banter. That said, Biff stomped out and slammed the door shut.

Marty looked for a good second at the door, his worry visible on his features, wondering tohimself if he should follow him to make sure Biff didn't actually kill himself. Then he snorted. "Oh, who am I kiddin'. This is Biff Tannen we're talking about." He shrugged, and started searching the kitchen for some cereals.

... Now ...

Which brought Biff back to the cowering asswipe in front of him, the rest of the gang long having been punched their lights out. He was now looming over the head of their gang having already delivered some very hard punches, his left hook already raised for the final blow.

"Now listen, and listen carefully, because I'll only say it once, asshole. If you ever, ever so much as look at him the wrong way, I will torture and murder you the worst possible way both you and I could come with. He's mine, you bastard, and I hate people touching whats mine. Are we clear, Douglas?"

A timid jerk of the head.

"Good."

And with that, he punched Douglas Needles into the arms of oblivotion with a very satifying crunch.

...

Biff swept back in his apartment in a swift, confident stride. He sported a nasty black eye and his knuckles were a bloody mass, but never had he felt more pleased with himself that at that very moment.

However, as he took in the scene in front of him, the confident smirk was replaced by a small, tender smile.

Carefully, not wanting to disturb Marty, he moved closer to the couch, to where Marty was sleeping soundly, some silly cartoon running in the backgroud. He brushed carefully a few strands of hair out of the delicate face which earned him a content sigh. Biffs chest tightened with an emotion he didn't dare to name yet. Instead, he simply said;

"Only for you, McFly."

...