by thy gracious self

i really, really loved this scene when i wrote it originally, but felt like there was something missing. i thought about it for a long while and added some more to it last night, and i think it's getting there. but it's new, so i'm still not sure. :) after the last scene, Marc tells Dakota that he's basically going to become her shadow to insure that nothing bad happens to her again. he feels insane with guilt for assuming she was out of the flaming shack when she was actually still trapped inside. so he's following her everywhere, despite her obvious embarrassment, because as he says, "I cannot lose you. It would be too much to bare.” so, this scene follows when it's time to go to bed. enjoy!

Ten minutes later we were standing in his bedroom glaring at each other with our arms folded firmly across our chests.
“You are not sleeping in that chair,” I said through gritted teeth. He crossed to the chair next to the window and sat down, pulling a blanket over his chest.
“Watch me,” he said, closing his eyes.
“You are being completely absurd!” I stomped my foot.
“That may be, but just for a little while until I can make sure that you’re safe, you’d better get used to me here.” He gave a dramatic yawn and sat still.
I stomped over to the light switch, slammed it off, and threw myself under the covers without another word. I seethed into the darkness for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I thought about what he had said in the living room. He had seemed incredibly pained and guilty about what had happened in the fire. Still, there was certainly no need to follow me around and baby-sit me. But how would I feel if the roles were reversed? I tried to picture myself pacing the edge of a burning house where I knew Marc was trapped inside. The image flooded my mind of his face twisted in pain, choking on smoke, the bright flames lapping at his white blonde hair. The idea caused my heart to throb painfully against my ribs. I sighed and rolled over to look at him. He was in the same position, his hair gleaming beautifully in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. My heart accelerated in my chest and I turned over, pinching my eyes shut.
Every time that I felt myself drifting near sleep, Marc would toss loudly in his chair, readjusting himself. After nearly an hour of this, I was feeling tired and very guilty at his obvious discomfort. He yawned and shifted in the chair. I held my breath for a moment, gathering courage, and then scooted to the edge of the bed, against the wall.
“Just get in,” I sighed in his direction, my voice shaking a little.
“What?!” I heard the blanket slide to the floor.
“Get in bed, you’ll never get any sleep in that chair.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
“I... it’s... you don’t have to do that...” He sounded embarrassed.
“Marc, please. You’ll be cranky if you stay awake all night.”
“I... ok...” He got up and walked to the edge of the bed, blocking out the moonlight. He stood there for a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. I pulled the blanket back for him. “I can sleep on top of the covers, if you’d like,” he whispered.
“It’s cold,” I said. I felt immediately embarrassed by how rejected I felt. He was quiet.
“Dakota, are you sure it’s alright?” I couldn’t make out the feelings behind his voice.
“Yes,” I said, almost soundlessly. He waited for a moment and then climbed in.
We both laid there awkwardly for a long time, the sides of our bodies pressed up against each other, staring at the ceiling. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I took a deep breath and he sighed. He shifted uncomfortably, brushing his bare feet against mine.
“You’re feet are freezing!” he said, startled.
“They’re always like that,” I whispered. He rubbed the soles of his feet against my toes.
“Better?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” I breathed. He took his feet away. The silence stretched on. I took another deep breath. Suddenly, I could feel his body shaking with silent laughter. I blushed, sure that I had done something already to embarrass myself.
“What? What’s funny?” I asked him.
“This is so wonderfully awkward!” he choked.
“I’m glad you’re having such a great time,” I grumbled.
“I’m sorry,” he said, catching his breath. “It’s not very often that I lie in bed with a woman, I don’t exactly know the protocol for this.”
“Oh, and I do?!” My face was hot.
“Don’t you?” he asked seriously.
“No!” I almost yelled. He chuckled again.
“Fair enough,” he said, and we were quiet again. “Really, Dakota, it’s alright. I’ll go back to the chair,” he said after a long time.
“No, it’s ok.” I didn’t want him to go.
“You don’t have to feel guilty.” He shifted as if to climb out of the bed. Without thinking, I rolled onto my left side and held him in place with my right arm around his waist. He froze. I put my head down on his chest, always forgetting when he was far away how wonderful he smelled. “You don’t really want me here,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I breathed into his neck, “I do.” He shivered. After a moment, he rolled toward me and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He was so warm that I felt instantly comforted, hardly afraid at all. He rubbed my back slowly and I nestled my face deeper into his warmth. He chuckled again, his chest rumbling against my body.
“What?” I whispered.
“I know that this means something different to me than it does to you,” I could hear him smiling, “but I’m not sure that I care at the moment. If you’re leading me on, feel free to do it forever.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re wonderful,” he whispered into my hair. He reached down and took my hand, twining his fingers between mine. He held our hands up in front of him, examining them in the moonlight. He traced shapes and swirls along my skin with his thumb, breathing evenly. "Your skin is incredibly soft," he whispered against the darkness. I smiled and nuzzled the warm skin of his neck with the tip of my nose. He shivered again, so I stopped.
"Does that tickle?" I asked, feeling embarrassed that I couldn't return any affectionate gesture correctly. He chuckled.
"Not exactly. I have... a neck thing."
"A neck thing?" I laughed with him.
"You're mocking me!" he cried in fake horror. He turned toward me and slid his face down my hair until his skin touched my neck. I could feel his warm breath along my collar bone. His lips moved against my skin.
"You're telling me this does nothing?" he murmured. I tried to lay perfectly still, suppressing the twisting of my stomach and the racing of my heart. I failed, trembling slightly. He pulled away quickly, dropping my hand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low, "that was inappropriate."
"I really didn't mind," I choked.
"I have trouble, being this close to you," he whispered. I opened my mouth, but closed it again, unsure of how to respond. After a second I reached out and took his hand again. He squeezed it for a long moment. I pulled myself closer to him and he wrapped his arms around me once more. A comfortable silence filled the darkness.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so comfortable,” I said, wishing I could squeeze myself closer to him somehow, “I don’t know if I’ll ever move.”
“Stay forever,” he breathed into my ear. I meant to say something to him, but I was asleep before I even realized that I was tired.

reincarnate

this scene comes right after the last, so there's nothing to fill you in on. that's probably how a lot of the next few scenes will be, it's a tad bit action packed from this point on. :) so read and enjoy!

I felt a soft bed beneath me as I surfaced heavily back to consciousness. A familiar scent filled the air and I felt a warm hand brush against my face. I opened my eyes to find myself back in Marc's bed, staring at the open window in the corner. My head spun for one deafening moment as I tried to grasp what had been real and what had been a dream. Images flooded back to me; the smell of smoke, voices calling to me from the darkness, Haylee beside the fire with a child in her arms. I glanced next to me and saw Marc slumped in a chair with his eyes closed. One hand propped up his head, burns still red along his forearms, and one hand rested on my pillow lightly touching my cheek. He looked haggard and worn. I heard Haylee laugh from somewhere in the house. Relief flooded through me and replaced the last sickening image of her unconscious in her brother's arms, the dying flames reflected in her pale face.
"Marc?" I whispered. He jumped, his eyes flying open, and I felt my head drop sharply several inches and land against the mattress.
"Oh! Dakota, I'm sorry!" he cried. I felt beneath my head where the pillow had been, but it was gone.
"Did you just vanish my pillow?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated sheepishly, "you startled me."
"I liked that pillow. It smelled like you." His raised one eyebrow.
"I'm...s-" he began.
"If you apologize, I'll hit you." We smiled at each other for a long moment until I could feel the blush creeping against my skin.
"So, Haylee..." I started.
"Is downstairs pouring through every mythology book that I own," he smiled fondly.
"I don't know anything about Hestia," I said, remembering the last vision.
"The goddess of the hearth."
"Also known as the goddess of fire," Haylee said, coming through the hall into the room, beaming. Peter followed her.
"Do you know what a hearth is? I didn't know what a hearth was," he said, shaking his head.
"The fire of a home?" I asked.
"Showoff," Peter muttered.
"It's the heart of the family, it brings them comfort and life," she said smiling.
"Isn't it sickeningly appropriate?" Peter said, mussing his sister's hair.
"I still don't understand..." I trailed off. Peter flopped down onto my bed.
"It means that we're gods and you should worship us," he said with a smirk. Marc pretended to bow to Haylee and she gave a little curtsy.
"But how is that possible?" I asked.
"Possible?" Peter laughed. "Have you been paying attention to any of the crazy shit that's been going on? Haylee literally sucked a whole house fire into her skin!"
"It went into my veins, actually, but that's beside the point," she added.
"Into your veins?" he asked in amazement. "But didn't that... hurt?"
"Yes," she said quietly, absentmindedly hugging herself tightly.
"Wait," I interrupted, "so are you... what? Descended from the gods?"
"Dakota," Marc spoke in a low voice, "I think they are the gods."
"That can't be," I said, sitting up. Peter looked affronted.
"Why not?" he asked harshly.
"If the gods were real, then they already existed. You would have to just be related to them because they would still be around, wouldn't they? Immortality and all." A cool breeze floated through the open window, it lifted the curtains and brushed across my skin. A small voice whispered into my ear, They have been forgotten. I froze. "What did you say?" I asked, my voice cracked. I looked at each one of them, but they all appeared just as confused as I was.
"No one said anything," Marc responded, his forehead creased. I was losing my mind. I must have lost some serious brain cells from inhaling so much smoke. I pushed it away.
"But what happened to the first gods? The gods of the Greeks and Romans and whoever else?" I asked, desperate to distract their concerned stares.
"Maybe they died," Peter shrugged.
"And we're some sort of... reincarnation?" Haylee asked. Peter nodded, eager to accept any explanation. We all sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts.
"We'll find out, I guess," Peter finally said.
"How do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, we'll see what happens when Marc fights the corn field. If the same thing happens and we dream he's a god, too... I think that's too much evidence for it to be a coincidence. If nothing happens... I don't know, maybe Haylee and I are just nuts."
"And what about me?" I asked. The three of them exchanged a brief glance and I was almost sure this was a subject that had already been discussed behind my back.
"We think that you can do something, too," Haylee said, still looking at the others.
"Oh yeah," I laughed, "I forgot to tell you, all the times that I fall down and get in the way I'm really having a supernatural episode."
"You just don't know what it is yet," Peter said, patting my leg encouragingly under the blanket.
"Has it crossed your mind that maybe I just can't do anything?" I asked. They glanced at one another again.
"We think..." Peter began, his face concerned, "that if you couldn't do anything... you wouldn't be alive." I looked at them. It hit me.
"You think there are more of us," I said in a whisper. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Marc answered.
"How many?" I asked.
"Ten besides us," Peter said.
"There are fourteen gods," Marc said.
"So you think that the only people left alive are all... gods?" I couldn't wrap my head around it.
"We think it might be a possibility," Marc looked at Haylee and she nodded in agreement, gauging my reaction.
"And like I said," Peter broke in, "I think we'll find out when Marc goes into the corn field."
"I'm not going until Dakota is well," he said, avoiding my gaze.
"In that case," Haylee said, laying a hand on my shoulder, "let's have some dinner."
That night passed in much the same way. We sat over dinner and continued our conversation of explanations, not really offering any new information. Marc kept his eyes on me through dinner and into the evening. Peter and I played an uneventful game of chess in the living room while Haylee poured through Marc’s library for mythology books. At one point she gasped and looked up to glare at Peter.
“What’d I do?” Peter asked without meeting her gaze.
“Please don’t ever turn yourself into a horse to chase around women, it doesn’t turn out well for you.” Marc stifled a laugh.
“I won’t...” Peter said, moving his knight illegally for the third time in a row, “as long as she’s not hot.”
“Peter!”

the family in the hearth

this scene comes right after the last, so there's not too much to tell. they all have fallen asleep at the end of the last scene and now start a new cycle of dreams. this one is a little more action, a little less love. :) read and enjoy!

We dreamt.
The car came to a stop in front of a familiar yellow house with white shutters. We climbed out and made our way across the yard, passing the little mound of dirt with a bouquet of wilting daisies laid across its head. We stopped where the grass of the backyard ended and the huge cornfield began to stretch itself into the distance. A breeze rustled the corn stalks, bending the stems away toward the sun. We held our breath, waiting. Finally, movement in the distance caught our attention. As we watched, something seemed to be passing through the corn not far from where we stood. Then, a figure rose into the air from the field and hovered above the plants. Marc floated on the wind, smiling down at us, his palms pointed out in front of him as if he were pushing away the air on which he was drifting. Dakota, he whispered.
The dream darkened. The air felt heavy and thick. I tried to breathe, but my lungs locked in my chest. I felt heat searing all around me. I could hear my name floating over a roar of crackling and hissing. I tried desperately to pull myself into consciousness, fighting through the smoke that now seared my throat. I tried to breathe, tried to cry out, but I was frozen. Dakota, Marc's voice broke through the noise, come back. My eyes shot open. All around me, fire licked angrily at the air. I could make out the back door to my left, but a huge piece of burning roof lay blocking the way. I turned toward the front door and saw that it was also blocked with burning wreckage. The moonlight filtering through the doorway and the woods outside allowed me to make out three figures pacing anxiously, staring at the flaming shack. I sighed with relief; at least they were out. Nothing else mattered, as long as they were safe. My family. I could make out Haylee's face against the darkness, lit by the flames, tears racing down her face as she bit her lip furiously.
"Haylee!" Peter screamed over the roaring of the flames. Marc ran over and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her viciously.
"Help her!" he sobbed. Peter pulled him away, restraining him.
Haylee turned toward the burning building and closed her eyes. My vision started to swim, I could feel my consciousness slipping away. I love you, I love you, I love you, I willed into the darkness. I stole one last look at Haylee. Her face was hard and determined. She stretched her arms out in front of her, palms up. Her eyes shot open and her face was fierce, her hair whipping around her head in the heat of the flames. First, the air cleared of smoke and I gasped desperately, filling my lungs. I watched in awe as the smoke raced through the night into Haylee's waiting hands. Then, she stepped forward and the fire raced into her palms, disappearing from the wood all around me. Fire, like bright yellow and orange snakes, slithered away from me on every surface. I jumped to my feet and watched as the last flame in the fire pit sped across the air and slipped beneath her skin. She smiled at me and her eyes closed. One second later, she fell to the ground.
I stumbled forward toward her but Peter got there first. Marc rushed forward and pulled my arm behind his neck, taking my weight.
"Is she alright?" I choked, my throat searing with pain.
"Yes," Peter said, feeling her pulse and watching her chest rise and fall, "she's alright."
"Dakota?" Marc called from far away, "Dakota?" But I was already gone, racing away into unconsciousness Through the heavy darkness I felt the car seat slide beneath me and heard the door close.
"I think we should sleep for a while," Marc called from somewhere nearby.
"Alright," Peter said, his voice worried. I heard the doors close and drifted away again. A long time later, when Peter finally closed his eyes, we dreamed.
We watched as the fire blazed through the forests and plains, consuming every life it touched. The trees smoked and crashed to the earth. The fields blackened and bent to the force of the racing flames. All life ran from the smoke until it couldn't run anymore and was lost. The fire consumed everything, unstoppable. Haylee's voice whispered through the smoke, Fire, know peace.
Flames raced through a village, lapping at the little homes. Screams filled the air and the sun was blotted out by the smoke. The fire knew no end, but consumed the village in its impossible hunger. In the wake of the fury, ashes and bones stood out glistening against the light of the flames. Fire, know peace, Haylee breathed, a sadness in her voice. The village rebuilt itself before our eyes. Children played in the streets, laughing and smiling. The fire was not gone, but now it crackled happily in the center of each home. There, Haylee stood beside it, watching over as the families warmed themselves and ate in peace beside the flames.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Haylee reached her arm down gently, halting a little toddler who was wandering too close to the flames. She smiled and gathered him into her arms.
Hestia.

Marc in the river

you've only missed a little bit in between this scene and the last scene, so i'll fill you in. :) basically, Marc runs really fast and it's a terrifying experience for everyone involved, except Peter (of course). they end up in the woods where they hike for several house until they come across this old wooden shack where they decide to stay for the night. they all encourage Haylee to start a fire but she can't because everything in the shack is damp from the woods. at the point in this scene where she is sitting in front of the fire pit concentrating, it's referring back to her aggravation at not being able to use her "powers" in this place. it's cold, they're hungry, Dakota and Marc are as awkward as ever, so it's a pretty good day. this scene isn't particularly action packed, but as Stephenie Meyer says, "Love is the best part of every story." so read and enjoy!

When I woke up, it was barely light in the tiny, cold room. I had tossed and turned against my dreams all night, but I felt suddenly wide awake. I lifted myself as quietly as possible from the floor, trying not to wake Haylee and Peter curled up across the room. I stepped over Marc's empty sleeping bag as I made my way to the open backdoor. I stepped out onto the little porch, resting one hand against the ivy-laced banister. A little gleam of orange was creeping through the trees as the sun pushed itself over the edge of the world. I breathed in the clean air, the slight scent of flowers drifting on the breeze. I heard a splash to my right and looked over into the stream. My eyes followed a little trail of discarded clothes, my heart kicked into gear, and my eyes were pulled over to the figure of Marc bathing in the water.
He stood waist deep in the river, the dawn light glinting on his bare skin and through his hair. He rubbed water over his burnt arms and chest, the angry welts still standing out swollen against his skin. My breath caught in my throat. I knew that I should turn around, or close my eyes, or look away, but I couldn't. Everything seemed to slow down. He dropped back into the water and stood again, shaking his hair out. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as he swam swiftly against the slight current. He rose to the bank and draped his feet into the river. Every drop of water that fell from his jaw, his back, his fingertips, stood out brilliantly, sparkling against the rising sun. My palms began to tingle and my blood seemed to slow in my veins. He leaned back into the grass, his eyes closed, a peaceful smile draped across his face. The green light of the forest danced against his soft skin, across his closed eyelids. Suddenly, every feeling and thought became clear. Every confusion that I had felt through the past days lifted and there was only Marc and I alone in the dawn, breathing in unison and smiling in the sunlight.
Something tickled the back of my arm. I tore my eyes away and glanced down. The ivy from the railing had wound itself around my hand. It twined through my fingers and climbed, twisting, up my arm. Little yellow flowers bloomed along the vines as I watched, tiny clouds of sweet pollen drifted off on the breeze. I gasped and yanked my hand away. The ivy fell and wound itself back around the wood but not before I heard Marc yell and saw him scramble to his feet, yanking his clothes from the ground to cover himself.
The blood rushed like a great wave into my face. I froze where I stood, horrified, unable to move or lift my eyes from the ground. My pulse thundered in my head and I could barely hear Marc's footsteps as he slowly climbed to the porch and stood next to me. Thankfully, he had pulled his jeans on, and we stood in silence while the birds began to wake up in the trees around us.
"Well," he finally said. He sounded utterly embarrassed, which made the blood pound in my face even more furiously, "I guess we're even." I couldn't open my mouth. The silence stretched on. "Were you, um, there... for long?" he asked quietly, I could see him twisting his hands together nervously.
"No," I choked.
"I thought... I thought you'd sleep... longer..." His voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice sad.
"Alright." More silence followed.
"Dakota," he whispered desperately, "please look at me."
"I c-can't," I gasped. The tears sprang from my eyes and I rushed past him toward the stairs. He caught my arm and spun me toward him. I continued to stare at the floor, tears dripping onto the wood. He lifted my chin until I was forced to meet his eyes. Unbelievably, they were round with worry, his forehead creased.
"Why are you crying?" he whispered, wiping the back of his finger under my eye.
"I'm not," I lied.
"Dakota," he begged, laying his palm against my cheek, "please." I struggled to free myself from his grip, but he held my head between his big hands, his eyes pleading. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
"I don't know how," I struggled against him but he held me firm.
"Stop hiding!" He shook me slightly, "Tell me something real!"
"I can't!" I clamped my eyes closed, shaking my head back and forth.
"Tell me the truth. Were you going to kiss me? In the kitchen?" His voice was desperate.
"I...I..." my throat closed around the words.
"Tell me how you feel!" He was almost shouting.
"I don't feel anything!" I cried. He let his arms drop to his sides. I looked up into his eyes, his face pale and hurt.
"You don't mean that," he spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide.
"Marc..." I reached out to him, not sure what to say or do. He caught my writs and pulled me close to him.
"Every time I look at you my heart throbs against my chest. I have no idea if you feel the same way that I do or if you feel anything at all," he spoke roughly into my face, his voice shaking with anger, "Every single thought is filled with you. What you're feeling. If you're alright. If you could possibly be thinking of me." Fresh tears spilled down my face. "I know that I don't deserve a chance, Dakota, but that doesn't mean that I don't want one." He dropped my wrists and took a step away, his face hard. "When you touch me or smile at me, I burn with shame for thinking of taking my life away before it knew you. Does it make you happy to know that?" I shook my head, raking through my brain for any response. "I pine for you, Dakota. You must see it." I stood where I was, frozen, tears leaking down my face. He sighed and turned down the stairs, disappearing away into the trees. I collapsed to my knees and held my face in my hands.
It was a long day. Marc stayed away for several hours. Finally, at some point in the afternoon, Haylee sent Peter out to look for him. I lay curled in my sleeping bag and Haylee knelt in front of the fire pit, her eyes closed, her forehead creased in concentration. I looked up when the front door opened. Peter stumbled in, panting.
"Did you find him?" I croaked.
"Oh yeah," Peter said, collapsing onto his sleeping bag.
"Where is he?" I asked desperately, looking around outside for him.
"No idea," he said, gasping for air, "he's too fast."
As the sun started to sink beneath the trees, I sat in the doorway of the porch. A light breeze ruffled my hair and I closed my eyes. It's going to rain, a tiny voice whispered in my ear.
"It's going to rain," I repeated, without thinking. Haylee and I looked over at Peter.
"Don't look at me," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
"But, there aren't any clouds," Haylee said, peeking up through the treetops. "Why do you say it's going to rain?"
"I.. it... smells like rain," I muttered.
"No it doesn't," Peter said, raising an eyebrow at me. Just then, the front door creaked open and Marc came sheepishly into the room. He carried his shirt in his hands, filled with berries and nuts. He set them down on the floor and Peter crawled over and started eating them without any explanation. He came slowly over to me and I jumped to my feet.
"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," he said, his tone flat, "there was no reason for that."
"Marc, please..." I began, but he held his hand up to stop me.
"No need, Dakota," he said with finality, "you don't owe me anything." With that, he crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes. Haylee and Peter whispered quietly with their heads together and I sat in the doorway for a long time. Finally, as I had known, thunder rumbled in the distance and rain began to fall. I crawled into my sleeping bag and stared into the darkness.
At some point in the night, while I stared up at the ceiling that was dripping with rain, Peter sat up angrily.
"It's freezing, Haylee!" he shouted. Beside me, Marc pulled his sleeping bag over his head.
"What do you want me to do about it, Peter?" Haylee said harshly.
"Come on, Haylee! My ass is numb!"
"FINE!" She sat up and snapped her fingers. A little light appeared in her hand and drifted toward the fire pit, illuminating Peter's stunned face. It slid into the grate and crackled merrily. Haylee crawled back into her sleeping bag.
"Well..." Peter mumbled, "thanks." A long time later, I finally fell asleep.

Poseidon

this scene comes immediately after the last. i'm rather unsure about it, so all the feedback you can give me would be helpful. thank you! enjoy!

We dreamed together.
We watched from a high mountain cliff as ocean waves rose to massive heights and pounded the waiting shores. Ocean, be still, Peter whispered into the night. The water stilled itself, sighed, and stretched calmly toward the horizon.
We watched from the treetops as raging rivers rose and tore through the woods, tearing all life up from its roots. Animals fled before the water and the trees groaned under the burden of the rushing currents. The water spilled over the banks and lapped at everything along the ground. River, be still, Peter whispered through the trees. The water sank back to the bank. The trees bloomed and smiled, the deer drank from the mirrored surface of the river.
We watched from the sky as funnels spun through the land, tearing up the world. Mountains crumbled under the storms, the rocks crashed and shook the earth. The rain poured in torrents, drowning everything. The water rose, higher and higher, until it met the sky and there was nothing but night. Water, be still, Peter whispered through the clouds. The water drained from the earth, leaving it cleaner and fresher than the world had ever know it before.
As it once was, so it will begin again.
Peter stood on a mountain, looking down at the ocean, a cloud racing by above him. He smiled and the word spilled from my mouth before I had even thought it. The name filled the air and quivered on the electricity in the clouds.
Poseidon.
We all woke up with the same gasp, but Peter was already awake, looking between his sister and I with a hand covering his mouth. We stared at him in silence. Marc ripped out of the tent and raced to the car, sliding in beside me, only to continue to stare at Peter. A peel of thunder echoed in the distance.
"I..." Peter began.
"Poseidon." Marc finished, excitement in his voice.
"I don't even know what that means," Peter said in a whisper.
"The god of the sea," Marc said, his eyes wide.
"But does that mean...?"
"I don't know."
"I don't feel like..." Peter shook his head back and forth, "I can't do all that stuff, I'd never be able to do that..."
"Of course you would," Haylee said, "Look at what you did today."
"But that was nothing, I can't even control it! I can't do anything!"
"No, I can't do anything," I cut in. They all stared at me. "What I'm saying is... I don't know what it means. I don't know what 'as it once was, so it will begin again,' is supposed to tell us. I can't tell you how to control it or what to do with it. But it's a gift, Peter, it has to be. You saved Haylee's life today. The dream showed just how much good you could do with it," Peter opened his mouth to interrupt but I went on, "Maybe not right now, but some day." They all looked at me for a long time.
"Nope, I don't want it," Peter finally said, "You can have it, Dakota. I'm no good."
We discussed this way for a long time, each taking turns explaining our ideas and what we thought the dream had meant. Eventually, we talked ourselves into silence. I was thinking through the line again, of what once was would begin again, when Peter broke the quiet with a soft snore. Haylee and I rolled our eyes at each other and she curled up on the seat again. Marc was asleep with his head propped up on his hand. I laid my head against the window, listening to the thunder humming softly in the distance, and finally I fell asleep. We dreamt of a forest.
Our feet made happy squelching noises against the moss on the ground. The light filtering through the canopy was every shade of green, wrapping us in the moist darkness of the leaves. Giant trees stretched into the sky all around. Redwood, Marc whispered in my ear and I realized that we were in the Redwood forest of Northern California. Was it possible that such a cool, wet place existed only a few days drive from the desert where we were? We walked on until we heard a crackling noise approaching in the darkness. Moving through the trees ahead was a bright, yellow light. Haylee? Peter called. A second later, she appeared from behind a huge trunk. She stood several feet away, her hands stretched out in front of her. Balanced in her little palms were two bright balls of fire.
I woke up to the warm air on my face, but as I examined the overcast sky I was thankful that it would not be so hot today. Marc and Peter were both still asleep with their heads rested against the windows. I looked around for Haylee and saw her sitting in the shade of the little palm tree, staring at her hands. I climbed out quietly and went to sit next to her.
"At least the forest is better than the desert," I suggested after a long silence.
"What if something bad happens? Like when we came here?" She stared fixedly at her palms.
"I think we can handle it," Peter said, climbing from the car and making his way toward us. Marc rose from the backseat but kept his distance, his eyes on me.
"I can't put any of you in danger," she whispered.
"Give us a little credit, we'll be alright," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Well," I added, "Give you some credit, I'm totally useless." She smiled.
"I love you just the same," she said.
"We've got bigger fish to fry," Peter grunted, gesturing toward the car, "how are we going to get there?" We stared at the broken vehicle, it's hood still open, yawning toward the clouds.
"I can take us," Marc said.
"What?" Peter asked him, incredulous.
"I can push it," he said, laying a hand against the trunk of the car.
"There's no way you can push it all that way." Haylee shook her head.
"Of course he can," Peter said, understanding dawning on his face, "didn't you see him yesterday?"
"I don't understand what that has to do with anything," she said, looking between them.
"It appears that I am..." Marc began, a smile curling around the corners of his mouth, "very fast."
“That’s what you were doing yesterday? To get away from the lightning? You were running?” Haylee’s eyes were wide. Marc nodded happily.
"No," I broke in, getting to my feet, "no way you're running us up the state."
"I think it's a great idea," Peter said, sliding back into the driver's seat, "hop in, guys!" I stayed in place where I was and Haylee walked over to Marc.
"We're too heavy," she said, her eyebrows pulled together.
"Peter will leave it in neutral and steer, it won't take any effort."
"It will be exhausting," she pleaded. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll be fine, Haylee. Please trust me." He smiled gently at her. After a long moment she climbed into the passenger's seat with a sigh.
"No!" I yelled, pounding my way through the sand to stand in front of him, summoning my most intimidating look, "No! I'm not letting you." He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, a huge grin covering his face. It was hard to be firm with him when he looked so beautiful.
"Are you," he grinned wider, "worried about me?"
"You can't control it, you won't be able to do it right," I stood my ground.
"Yes I will." He opened the backdoor for me. I didn't budge.
"You won't be able to stop, you'll crash and kill us all."
"No I won't." He was still smiling.
"Well... You..." I struggled to find an argument, "You'll vanish us!" I actually stomped my foot. He continued to smile and pulled me gently into the backseat, closing the door.
"She has a point there," Peter said, leaning across to look at Marc through the open window.
"I will be fine," he assure us. He leaned through my window and breathed into my ear, "as long as you keep your clothes on." He winked at me and made his way to the back of the car. I suppressed a shiver and kept my arms folded tightly across my chest. Was he flirting with me? No body flirted with me. Didn’t he understand that I was totally impossible around men, not to mention around all people in general? They only times I could even manage to get close to him I was either losing my mind at the kitchen table or comforted by the darkness of the car ride. I couldn’t speak or react. Was he expecting something other than my burning cheeks and shaking hands. My stomach twisted anxiously.
"Seatbelts on," Marc called from the back. We all obeyed.
"Ready?" he called again.
"Wait!" Peter shouted and jumped from the seat, jogging around the meet Marc at the back. I watched them in the rearview mirror.
"I'm sorry," Peter said in a low voice, "for trying to zap you with lightning."
"I'm sorry, too," Marc said, surprised, "I didn't mean that... about your mother."
"I know," Peter said, almost in a whisper. Then he caught Marc in a tight, one-armed hug. "Thank you," he whispered, "for my sister." He hopped into the front seat and pulled his seatbelt on.
"Ready?" Marc called again and before anyone could answer, we were flying.

Peter and the storm

i'm going to post this scene in a few separate pieces because it's such a long section. i didn't want to cut the first few parts out, since i think they offer valuable information for the story later on. but i also didn't want to bore you with 15 odd pages of my rambling. :) so, this scene starts after the group decides to head off to the desert they've seen in their dreams. it's a long drive, so they pass the time "getting to know each other" for lack of a better phrase (a first step they were forced to skip under the unusual circumstances of their meeting). we learn that Peter is only eleven months older than Haylee and that they have lived pretty much on their own since their mother died when they were younger. this bit passes while they discuss it:

"Were you raised by your father then, like me?" Marc asked after a moment, still interested.
"No..." Peter said, hesitating, "Our mom was... seeing a couple different guys at the time we were born, so she wasn't exactly sure who it was." The tips of his ears were red. "But Hal and I looked so much alike that she figured we had to have the same dad, you know?"
"Yeah," Marc said, clearly sorry to have made Peter feel uncomfortable.
"No big deal," he said, watching Marc in the rearview mirror, "we did alright."

they continue to chat this way, talking about their childhoods and the lives they had before everything changed. Dakota finds herself utterly invested in her new life and the people who have become her family:

Soon, I found myself talking and laughing in a way that I couldn't remember having ever done before. I was being myself and I was not ashamed. Faced with the end of the world, hunted by undead beings, surrounded by warped and distorted realities that may or may not include super powers, I had finally learned how to just be myself. It took an apocalypse and three very interesting strangers, but I had found myself in them.
As the clock on the dashboard read 2:15am, I could feel my eyelids closing. Haylee and Peter whispered together in the front seat, and Marc was running his hands through his hair again. I smiled. Whether it was the elation of having such a wonderful conversation, the quiet and darkness of the car, the lateness of the hour, or the fact that I had stretched myself to my limits in the past day, I somehow felt brave. I took a breath, slid across the seat, and laid my head on Marc's shoulder. He jumped a little, surprised, but then I could hear him smiling in the dark. He wrapped his warm arms around me, pulling me closer, and rested his chin on the top of my head. I was nearly asleep when he bent and whispered in my ear, "Dream sweetly, Dakota. Thank you for saving me." I smiled and slipped into an unconsciousness filled with laughter, grass, and strawberries.

but of course, it couldn't all be so simple. what fun would that be? when Dakota opens her eyes, the car is broken down in the middle of the desert, they are completely lost, and they are almost out of water... thanks to Peter:

"Maybe if you hadn't GONE OFF THE ROAD," Haylee shouted angrily to her brother.
"Haylee!" he shouted back at her, "it was a road when I got on it, it just stopped being a road at some point!"
"Well," Haylee called back, "that still makes you an idiot!"
"SHUT UP!" Peter roared. The water bottle that Marc was drinking from burst, drenching him and sending water sizzling into the sand.
"Peter, STOP IT!" Marc yelled. "You've ruined three bottles, we only have one left!"
"Don't yell at me!" Peter bellowed, the last bottle of water sitting in the sand made a painful hissing noise, but did not explode.

so, they decide to try walking. they attempt to get back to the road they came from, but of course, they have no idea where they are. they find themselves in bigger trouble than they thought was possible:

The word "hell" could not even begin to describe the temperature after walking for five hours under the baking sun. We hadn't been led here to learn anything, we had been led here to die. Haylee and Peter had their backpacks slung over their heads to protect their faces and eyes from the blinding sun. Marc had pulled off his shirt and tied it over my face and neck, refusing my protests that he would die of exposure with no shirt on. He walked a few feet ahead of me now and I could see bright blisters already forming on his burnt shoulders. The water was gone and had been gone for a while. We had walked about two hours before finding nothing and deciding that we had to turn back to the car. If nothing else, the car would be protection from the pounding rays. However, as we tried to make our way back, our footsteps had been covered by the blowing sand and the sun was disorienting. We had now gone nearly twice as far as we had come and were completely lost.
Peter stumbled and fell into the sand, scrambling to get up as the surface burned his hands. He stumbled again and Haylee stopped walking. As Marc and I drew even with her, we froze in our tracks at her appearance. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, as was the bridge of her nose from exposure to the sun. Dried blood was caked on her cheeks and her hair clung to her forehead with sweat. "Look at the water," she croaked, pointing a shaking finger to the distance. We followed her gaze but there was nothing but miles and miles of sand. "I want to get to the water," she said, a tear running down her cheek and drying up before it had gotten half way.
"PETER!" Marc called, terror in his voice. Peter stopped ahead and ran back toward us, falling again and again. Haylee looked at Marc.
"Please give me water," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing the straps of the bag slung over his shoulders.
"Haylee, honey, come back," Marc said, shaking her slightly, "we don't have any water. I'm sorry."
"Please," she begged. The straps she was holding began to smoke under her touch. Marc pulled her hands away as Peter approached.
"What's wrong? Haylee?" He looked no better than she did. All she could do was stare off into the distance and beg for water.
"I'll have to carry her," Marc said, stepping forward and putting one arm around her waist.
"I'll do it," Peter said. He slowly gathered her into his arms and lifted her weight. She was only inches off the ground when Peter collapsed under the strain. Marc scooped her from the sand and I pulled Peter to his feet.
"Let's go," Marc said, laboring forward.
We had only gone a few feet when Marc cried out and dropped Haylee in the sand. "Be careful!" Peter cried, falling forward to her. Marc rubbed his bare chest, where an angry red welt spread across his skin. He gathered her up and continued forward. This happened again and again, Marc yelling out into the heat and letting Haylee slip from his arms. She was sobbing and screaming for water incessantly.
"I can't," Marc gasped, rubbing the skin of his arms that were swollen with angry blisters, "she keeps burning me, I can't hold her." Peter tried in vain to lift her again, only falling forward, crying out in an angry sob. We knelt beside her, desperate to help but with no where to go.
"Peter?" she choked, staring out at nothing.
"Yeah, sweetie, I'm here, I'm right here," he was removing his shirt and mopping her head with it.
"I'm so thirsty, please. Please, Peter." His shoulders shook as he continued to wipe her face.
"She's going to die if she doesn't get water, we have to do something," Marc whispered desperately.
"What can we do?" I cried, "We don't even know where we are. What can we do?" Suddenly, Peter jerked his head up and stared into my eyes, his face determined. He jumped to his feet. Haylee moaned quietly and a little fire sprang up in the sand near her feet. Peter pulled me up and looked at me with blazing eyes.
"Yell at me, Dakota," he said.
"W-what?" I said, stunned.
"Yell at me!" he cried desperately.
"I don't understand what you're saying!" I screamed, my voice cracking, my head swimming. Haylee cried out and fell still. Marc leaned over her, pushing back her hair, and jumped up as another fire sprang from the ground.
"I don't know if she's breathing!" Marc wailed, unable to approach her as fires erupted all around.
"HIT ME!" Peter bellowed. I swung my hand back and slapped him across the face.
"AGAIN!" he screamed. I slapped him again.
"DAKOTA, YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!" I balled my hand into a tiny fist and cocked it back as far as it would go.
"Hey, Pete," Marc called. He was standing almost twenty feet behind us. Peter turned, I let my fist hover behind my head. Marc folded his arms across his chest, a cruel smile unfamiliar on his face.
"Your mother sounds like a whore."
A rumbling ripped through the silence, pounding out into the hot air, radiating from deep within Peter's chest. His whole body trembled, his face furious. "Dakota," Marc said without moving from Peter's heavy gaze, "RUN!" I slipped back in the sand, scrambling away. I stumbled back toward Haylee, surrounded in a ring of fire. Then, incredibly, the sand darkened. A low roar of thunder sounded from above. I lifted my head to see thick purple clouds racing from all directions, chased by an invisible wind, rolling and plunging to the place where Peter stood on a low dune in the distance. They converged, blackening the sky and blocking out the sun. Great peels of thunder tore through the air.
"COME ON, PETER!" Marc screamed over the crashing air, "IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR SISTER?" Peter clenched his fists and pulled his head back toward the sky. An incredible roar issued from deep inside his chest and he lifted his hands to the clouds. Then the rain came. Great, pounding drops beat against the sand, drenching everything. Haylee's fire was out within seconds and I ran to her, gathering her into my arms. The water soaked through my hair and clothes. I pulled Marc's shirt from my face and filled the folds with the huge drops. I rang the water into her mouth, wiping the caked blood from her face. After a moment, her eyes fluttered open, and she stared bewildered at the storm pounding around her. We watched as a great funnel of water swirled around Peter, obscuring him from sight, amplifying the sound of his laughter against the cry of the wind.
Marc began to make his way toward us across the sand. Suddenly, he froze, turning his gaze up into the sky.
"YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!" he screamed, and then he was gone. I gasped and sprang to my feet as he appeared over a hundred yards away. A great bolt of lightning stabbed at the earth exactly where he had been standing a second ago. How had he moved so quickly? A second later, he vanished again and appeared even further away. I screamed as another fork of lightning raked the earth where he had been. Again, Marc flew invisible across the sand, barely dodging another deadly bolt of fire.
"STOP IT! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL HIM!" I screamed, running forward toward Peter.
"DAKOTA, DON'T!" Marc yelled and vanished again, missing the lightning by a second. I fell to my knees and barely noticed Haylee sprint toward her brother. She approached the cyclone, one hand shielding her face from the wind. She paused outside the solid wall of water, squared her shoulders and plunged in. A moment later, the lightning ceased. The rain slowed to a drizzle, the thunder rumbled softly. The funnel of water thinned, revealing Peter holding Haylee against his chest, and then crashed to the ground. They made their way over to me, still kneeling in the wet sand in shock. Peter walked past me and lifted the backpacks onto his shoulders. Haylee pulled me to my feet, squeezing my hand. Fifty feet away, Marc stopped, watching Peter with wary eyes.
"Are you alright?" I called to him.
"Yes, are you?"
"No." I was trembling. He smiled.
"I see the car," he said, pointing. Sure enough, less than a mile away, the dull glint of the metal shone against the dark clouds that still hung over everything. Marc approached slowly. Twenty feet away, a sparkle of static electricity ran up his arm. "OUCH!" He cried, swatting it away. Peter grumbled something about getting what you deserve and turned toward the car.
When we reached it, I fell into the backseat and curled up in a tiny ball. Marc pulled another bag from the trunk and bent over something in the sand under the little palm tree.
"Will the clouds last?" Haylee asked Peter in a low voice.
"Yes," Peter said, glaring at Marc who was setting up a small tent.
"I think we should sleep then," she said. Without discussion, she covered me with a sweater and curled up on the front seat. Peter continued to glare at Marc.
"I'll sleep over here, thanks!" Marc called sarcastically, waving to Peter. Another jagged line of static ran up his leg. "OW!" he cried, throwing himself into the tent and zipping it closed. I was asleep within minutes.

awkward vanishing

i probably didn't need to post this scene, but i just couldn't resist. it was a lot of fun to write and it makes me laugh awkwardly every time i read it, so i thought i would share it with you! it comes right after the last scene, so you didn't miss much. enjoy!

My sweatpants were black with soot and the sweater I had been wearing was burned through in three places, so I tossed the wrecked clothes in the little garbage can. I would need to borrow new clothes for the trip. I took a cold shower this time, letting the chilled water run over the back of my blistered hand. I shampooed my hair twice, enjoying the sweet scent of strawberries, until I could no longer notice the stench of smoke. I turned the water off reluctantly and climbed out.
The only towels left in the room were a short hand towel and a tiny washcloth. If I hadn't been so emotionally exhausted, I would have laughed at the luck of the day. I pulled the hand towel from the rack and dried off with that. Just as I was pulling the little towel through my damp hair, a quiet knock sounded on the door. "Dakota?" Marc whispered. The door slid open. I screamed and yanked the towel in front of me, pulling it as far across and down as it would go. It was just long enough to cover what was necessary but not nearly enough to be totally decent. Marc stood frozen with one hand on the doorknob and one hand clutching a little pile of clothes, his face was shocked and red. His eyes raked over me, lingering for a long time on the expanse of my bare legs.
"Marc, get out!" I shrieked. He snapped back to reality and slammed the door. After a second, it slid open again.
"MARC!" I screamed.
"No! Dakota, I'm sorry!" He pulled the door closed again but it slid open immediately.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" My face felt like it was on fire.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! The door won't close!" He closed it again and again desperately but it continued to pop open.
"Close the door, Marc!" I was sure that I was going to die of embarrassment any second.
"Dakota, I can't!" Unbelievably he sounded almost as mortified at me, and then his voice was low, "I... I vanished the doorknob."
"UGH!" I shouted, yanking the burnt clothes from the garbage can.
"I thought... you would have a towel..." he whispered through the door.
"WELL, I DON'T!" To my horror, he chuckled.
"Well, obviously," he said, "I didn't miss that part." I gasped.
"NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS FUNNY, MARC!"
"I'm sorry," he said again, but I could tell he was still smiling, "If you hold the door closed, I'll get you a towel."
"Fine," I grumbled, pushing against the door with more force than necessary.
"And..." he continued from the other side, "I'll have to ask Haylee for more clothes for you."
"What happened to the one's you just had?!" I cried, desperate to have as much clothing as possible.
"Those are... also gone." He sounded embarrassed again, which made me feel happy in a cruel way.
"You'd better take your time because the second I have clothes on, I am kicking your ass." He chuckled again and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall.
* * *
We had packed the little car by noon and filled the tank from a gas can that Marc kept in the garage. While Marc emptied the fluid into the tank, Haylee stood as far back as possible, her eyes wary on the flammable liquid.
Peter grumbled incoherently as he climbed into the driver's seat next to his sister. He was still angry with her for ambushing him with shears after he had showered and bandaged his arm. The front of his hair had been so badly burned that she insisted on cutting it off. It now lay close to his head in untidy black spikes. I had to tell him that it looked wonderful at least ten times before he stopped swearing. Haylee had also insisted on giving Marc's hair a trim before we left, saying that all that hair would make him hotter in the desert. They had been in the bathroom for a long time when Marc finally appeared sheepishly at the bottom of the stairs. His hair was cut short to his head, standing only about and inch long at the top. As it was shorter, it was also blonder and his slight smile and bright blue eyes stood out with brilliance. He pushed his fingers through it repeatedly, not yet used to the feel. I approached him slowly and noticed that he had also shaved. His face, however, did not look more boyish for the change, but sweeter and more healthy. I lifted my hand and brushed the back of one finger along the line of his jaw. He shivered and smiled.
"I feel naked," he said, running his hand through his hair again.
"That is not funny," I growled. He laughed and went to help Peter load the car.