iv.

The first scream is quickly followed by another, and then several all at once, until the distant thumping bass of the music is almost completely drowned out by the unmistakable sound of a terrified mob quickly descending into full-fledged panic. You exchange a brief glance with Sen before you dart back inside, just ahead of her, your wand suddenly clutched tightly in your hand without you being conscious of having grabbed for it.

Fortunately for both of you, the crowd appears to be stampeding in the other direction, towards the front exit. And away from where Douchebag lies on his back on the dance floor, in the middle of a widening pool of blood, screaming and writhing as the werewolf pins him down and proceeds to tear his throat out with his teeth.

Somewhere behind you, Sen gasps. Your stomach lurches and your balls tighten even as you raise your wand and wordlessly hurl a blast of eldritch energy towards them. It catches Mason in the side, sending him tumbling through the plastic cups that litter the floor, whimpering like a kicked puppy. He recovers quickly and wheels on you, growling, eyes wild, blood dripping from his fanged maw and his clawed hands. And it's like that time in Transylvania all over again, except worse. Much, much worse. If only because you weren't drunk off your ass, then.

Mason crouches down on all fours and starts to charge, so you desperately fire again. He doesn't even try to dodge, just snarls in fury and pain as he catches the second blast full in the chest and keeps on coming. You back up half a step, panic clawing at your throat, fighting to keep your wand-hand steady as he closes, leaps for you...

...and suddenly howls as he bursts into flame in mid-air, green fire that consumes him instantly, cracking and peeling his flesh from blackening bones right before your very eyes. He twists and contorts in agony, throwing off his trajectory and causing him to slam to the floor just a few feet shy of where you stand. His body literally explodes into a cloud of ash on impact. You cough and sputter as it gets into your eyes, your nose, you mouth, even as his final tortured scream still echoes in your ears. It sounds surprisingly, hauntingly human.

Suddenly nauseous, you drop your wand to the ground with a clatter and frantically begin scrubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands, desperate to see, desperate to get what's left of him off you. And as your vision clears, and the cloud of ash begins to dissipate, you finally see Alex staring back at you through it, her eyes wide, her face sickly pale beneath her dark make-up, and her wand still outstretched.

And as the bright neon-green light begins to fade from the tip of it, you finally realize what's just happened. You didn't kill Mason. Alex did.

Sweet motherfucking Christ, Alex killed Mason. To save you.

To her credit, Sen is the first to shake off the shock of the moment and move, brushing past you and skidding through the widening pool of blood to drop to her knees at Dou—at the other Justin's side. Frowning down at him, she brings two fingers to what's left of his mangled throat, feeling for a pulse. Then, without a shred of self-consciousness, she quickly shrugs out of her blouse, balls it up and presses it to the wound, trying to stem the spurting torrent of blood. Not long from now, you'll have the good grace to be disgusted at yourself when you remember the way—even as you watch in numb shock—you can't help but notice how incredible her breasts look as they strain against her black, lacy bra. But you can't, and they do.

"Yo, witch-girl?" Sen says, looking frantically up at Alex. "Hey! Witch girl!"

Alex doesn't react, just continues staring at you, at the drifting remnants of ash that hang in the air between you, unblinking despite the tears seeping out the corners of her eyes, ruining her makeup and running dark down her cheeks. Not getting a response right away, Sen grunts and snaps her fingers at her. Alex jolts at the sound as if she's been slapped awake, and finally lowers her wand as she blinks at Sen. "Wh-what?"

"Your boyfriend is dying here, that's what," Sen says, turning her attention back to the other Justin, pressing hard against her balled-up blouse as blood soaks through it, turning her hands pink. "So either make with a healing spell, or call 911. But make up your mind quick, because I don't think he has long."

Trembling, Alex brings one hand up to cover her mouth, looking down at the other Justin as if seeing him for the first time, and starts shaking her head furiously.

"No," she says, her voice shaking. "He's not my—" She breaks off and looks back up at you, eyes pleading even as they overflow with tears. "Justin, I...I didn't mean to...please..."

And that's all it takes to finally snap you out of your own stupor, and push you into action. Because Alex rarely lets herself cry in front of anyone, much less you. And she never says please. With a skill borne from years of practice at cleaning up her messes, you tuck your shock and your fear—and your n+1 Jager shots—neatly into the back of your brain, nod once at her in reassurance, then drop down to your knees next to Sen, and go to work.

"I think I ought to be able to keep him from bleeding out," you say to her, the tip of your wand glowing royal blue as you point it at Other!Justin's ruined throat. "Maybe ease the pain a little. But stabilizing him is another thing entirely, and healing him outright is out of the question. Either would take a wizard way more experienced than me."

Sen gives you a puzzled look. "OK, but can't you just zap him to a hospital, or whatever it is you call it? Or, I dunno, freeze time around him or something?"

You shake your head sharply, as you wave your wand back and forth over him in as businesslike a manner as you can manage. "You can't teleport somebody who's had a bad blow to the head. If he has a concussion, flashing him could make it worse. And to stop time I'd have to hop on one foot, which I'm not sure—"

"Then improvise something, Justin!" Alex whines. "Just help him! Please!"

"I'm trying!" you snap back. Because improvisation has always been more her thing than yours, and you really have no clue how the fuck this is supposed to work, if you're honest. The weekend Emergency First Aid course you took at Tribeca Prep didn't exactly cover treatment for rogue werewolf attacks, and even your Monster Hunter training was pretty well limited to 'kill it before it kills you'. But running a medical tricorder back and forth over the patient is what Bones McCoy would do on Star Trek, fixing whatever was wrong as if by magic, so you try and work with what you know.

What you wouldn't give for a hypo-spray right about now, though...

"He's still bleeding, Justin!" Alex insists. "Try harder!"

"Dammit Alex," you growl. "I'm a wizard, not a doctor!"

"Just keep him alive for a few more minutes," Harper calls, blessedly, from across the room. "I'm on the phone with 911, now. They've got an ambulance on the way."

You glance up, surprised that she's still here, and see her crouched by the bar, cell phone pressed to her ear. Good old Harper, always there in a pinch. Runs away screaming from awkward conversations, but never from real danger, not when the two of you really need her. It's times like these you actually wish you could feel something for her, Alex and Zeke be damned...

Zeke. Jesus, poor Zeke. He sits next to Harper on the floor in the fetal position, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, whimpering. He looks even more frightened than Alex does, if that's possible. Harper rubs his back comfortingly between his shoulder blades with her free hand, but judging from his thousand-yard stare, he's barely even aware that she's there. Yeah, there's definitely a Simplify Your Mind spell in his very near future...

Can't worry about that now, though. Shooting a tight, grateful smile at Harper—and a quick glance at Alex to make sure she's still with you—you return your focus back to Other!Justin, desperately willing his blood to stay the hell inside his body.

"Look, are you sure you're all right to do this?" Sen asks quietly into your ear, still holding her ruined shirt against the gushing wound, even as it glows blue around her hand. "It's just, your hand is shaking, and you've had an awful lot to drink. For all we know, you might be making it worse..."

"Shut up! He is not making it worse!" Alex snarls, before you can answer, glaring fiercely at Sen through her tears. "He'll be fine. Justin knows what he's doing."

You really don't, actually, but it's nice to know it at least looks convincing. Sen snorts in annoyance, but doesn't say anything in return. Silence settles over you, save for Zeke's whimpering and the uneven breathing of Other!Justin, as you all strain to listen for the help that's supposedly on its way. Seconds seem to stretch into hours, then into days, and you're actually on the verge of breaking out into desperate prayer, when finally, thankfully, you hear the distant whine of an ambulance siren, gradually growing louder as it approaches.

"Oh, thank God!" Alex cries, then bolts for the front door, hopefully to flag the ambulance down and notto run away from the scene of the crime, though knowing Alex, both are equally likely. You risk taking your eyes off Other!Justin for just a second, watching her her go—and yes, fixating on her (incredible) ass, which you'll also be disgusted about later—before wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your free hand and turning your attention back to the tip of your wand.

"Sen," you mutter desperately, "tell him to stay with us."

She blinks at you in confusion. "What? I don't—"

"I've read somewhere that, for some reason, accident victims tend to give up the fight to live as soon as they sense help's within reach," you explain. "And his breathing's getting shallower. Maybe if you use your elf-mojo..." You shrug helplessly. "I don't know, it's worth a shot."

Sen nods, then leans forward towards Other!Justin's face, reaching up with her free hand to stroke his hair gently away from his face as she whispers in his ear. "Hold on. Just a few more minutes. Please, just hold on..."

And then suddenly two EMT's are on top of you, pushing you and Sen out of the way and barely giving your glowing wand a second glance as they position themselves over Other!Justin's body, and go to work saving his life. You get up off your knees and back off a few steps to give them room, slipping your wand into your back pocket as you watch over their shoulders. They speak to each other in short, clipped sentences, only half of which you can really comprehend. And you're so absorbed in what they're doing that you don't realize that Alex is right next to you until she wraps her arms around your waist, and lays her head on your shoulder.

"Is he gonna be OK?" she asks, in a tiny, quivering voice. "Please say he's gonna be OK!"

"They're doing the best they can," you say, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tightly. "They're trying to get him stabilized enough that they can risk moving him." That much, at least, you've understood.

It's a tense few minutes, but the EMT's do finally get a temporary bandage onto him, and lift him onto the gurney. As they urgently gather up their equipment and start rolling him towards the door, one of the men finally glances up at you and Alex, acknowledging your presence for the first time.

"We're taking him to Bellevue," he says quickly. "We can take one in the truck if someone wants to ride along back with him, but we've gotta move."

You glance down at Alex, even as her chocolate brown eyes swivel up towards yours, tightening at the corners in a way that would be imperceptible to nearly anyone else, but which you interpret as fearful hesitancy. "I'll—"

"No, I'll go," Sen cuts her off. Both of you glance over at her in surprise, to see her staring back at you, resolute. You'd quite honestly forgotten she was even there, for a second.

"You?" Alex asks, her voice equal parts surprise and relief. "But you don't even know him!"

"I think I know him pretty intimately, at this point," Sen says, gesturing to herself, her skin smeared and her clothes soaked through in patches with his blood. "I want to see this through. What's his name?"

"Justin," Alex says quietly, looking from Sen, back up to you, and then to her again. "His—his name is Justin, too."

Sen snorts in response, tilting her head slightly to one side, her eyes tightening at the corners.

"Of course it is," she says directly to you, with a barely detectable edge of bitterness, as though she knows something you don't. "You'll meet us there?"

"We'll catch up," you nod. Actually, you'll probably beat them—there's nothing to stop you and Alex from flashing yourselves there, after all—but, though you doubt they're paying attention, you still can't exactly say that with the EMT's in the room. "Before you know it. We'll be there in a blink"

"Yeah, I'll bet," she says, backing towards the exit. Sen gives you one last look, her eyes flicking between you and Alex. And you're suddenly very conscious of how tightly she's clinging to you, how close you're holding her...but neither of you let go. Sen's eyes go soft at the edges for a second before she finally turns her back on you and hurries after the EMTs, leaving the two of you alone with Harper and poor, catatonic Zeke.

"She seemed really nice," Harper says tiredly, true to form, into the silence that follows.

"Yeah," you sigh, watching after her. "She really did, didn't she?"

Alex doesn't say anything in reply, just tightens her hold on your waist and buries her face in your chest, and quietly begins to cry.

"I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" she gulps, fighting for breath between sobs. "I was just messing with him! I knew dating a Justin, any Justin, would drive him crazy, but I didn't mean to..." She trails off and looks up at you, red-rimmed eyes burning with equal parts anger and remorse. "You were supposed to be there, to stop him before things got out of hand! Where the hell were you?"

"I'm sorry," you say, genuinely meaning it. "You're right, I should have been here. I'm so sorry..."

"I wanted him to flip out just enough that I could break up with him for good this time, without it being my fault!" Alex cries, and you're not sure that she's even heard your apology, much less registered it. "I wanted to win. I wanted him gone. But now what's-his-face is hurt, and Mason is...is..."

"Shhhhhh," you murmur, as she drops her forehead back down onto your chest, her body shaking as it's wracked with sobs. You bring one hand up to gently cradle the back of her head, and tilt your head down to press your lips to her ear, whispering to her that everything will be OK. That's a bit of an exaggeration, of course—the police will undoubtedly be waiting at the hospital with questions to be answered. Emergency Wizards too, likely, depending on whether or not word of this gets back to the Wizards' Council, which it somehow always seems to. But none of that matters, not for her. Because you'll take care of it. You'll lie, argue, bargain, even take the blame upon yourself, if you have to. Anything to keep her out of trouble, to keep her safe. Just like you always have. Just like you always will.

And then you jolt in surprise as your Captain Jim Bob Sherwood wristwatch suddenly begins to beep rapidly, with the alarm that you'd set earlier in the evening, when you'd still had hope that you'd be back home on the couch watching the ball drop by now.

The saying goes that whatever you're doing at midnight on New Year's Eve sets the tone for your entire year to come.

You reach up with your other hand and press the button on your watch to silence the alarm, then return it to the small of your little sister's back, holding her close as you comfort her in her hour of need, murmuring promises to fix it, to find a way to make everything better, even as you inwardly, silently burn for her.

Hail to the new year, same as the old year.

—30—

Author's Note: A final hearty thank you to Not Just a Nerd for her much-needed beta assistance on this story, and also to tilante for his help in deciding how it should end. (Though if you didn't like it, I assure you the fault is all mine.)

Much gratitude, as always, goes to everyone who's had the time and patience to read, review, favorite or put this uneven mess on alert. As an experiment in working outside my usual style, I think it was at least partially successful—I don't expect I'll be writing angst again any time soon, but writing in second-person from Justin's POV was much more comfortable (and fun) than I would have expected. And I'm clearly going to have to start using both Zeke and Mason a lot more than I have been.

Thanks for sticking it out with me on this one, guys. I really appreciate it. For those of you who may have been quietly wishing I'd knock it off with the passive-aggressive angst, already, and get back to writing fluffy, sexy hi-jinks, there may be some fan service coming your way in the near future... ;)