I'll Protect You (Original Version)

A how-many-miles-did-you-just-say hike during the storm of the century

* * *

As I was sitting on a bus heading to Easkey, staring out the rain-soaked windows, I was not Park Sparrow. I was Ashley Woodsen, a traveler from America. She was a lovely lass with caramel highlights in her light brown hair and too much make-up. Ashley talked like Taylor Swift and liked to smack her gum in people's faces.

Meanwhile, Flynn was already in Easkey, having left almost immediately after we threw John Fields into a metal cell. After that, he split us all up and gave us the whole plan he had constructed as I watched him drive away in a car that he "borrowed" from some rich old man.

He called all of us at once, instructing us to go buy a wig then head into a very busy looking store, anywhere in Dublin, and change our appearance. After that, we had to check into different motels. Then, in the morning, Sophia would leave for Easkey. In the afternoon, I would leave. Zen would stay behind and start working on tracking the GPS devices that Flynn had kept on him.

That's why I was standing on a bus, alternating on my phone between Teen Wolf and Doctor Who on my beloved Netflix account as I held my posture against a metal pole in the bus.            
          As my eyes were glued to the scenes playing out on the small screen, my mind was already laying out a thousand scenarios for tonight. I pictured Logan, Alec, Sophia, Flynn, the Dragons, and everything. Every little factor that popped into my head changed the events I conjured up, either giving me more hope or crushing my soul into a thousand shards.

It also didn't help that my thoughts kept conjuring up what Archer had told me, the truth floating around in the sea of my mind. The words whispered in an elevator kept echoing as well. Every converstaion I had with Logan wouldn't stop rewinding themselves, so my heart felt like someone had wrapped iron clenches around it and wouldn't stop squeezing.

I felt the bus slow down to a stop, its brakes screeching loud enough that I could hear it past the werewolf fights. It was raining even harder, the droplets splashing heavily against the windows and roof. I pulled my hood up, zipped up my dark blue jacket, then hopped outside the bus, landing in a gigantic puddle.

People around me grumbled angrily when the dirty water flew at them. Normally, I'd apologize, but my thoughts were too busy, my eyes focused on finding Sophia and The Soulless Fake Red-head.
         I finally spotted Flynn leaning against the window of a crowded coffee shop. His radiant hair was one of the brightest things in the dim weather. That boy should go be a neon sign at night--he'd do such a great job.

I ran across the almost-empty streets, joining him under the protection of the rain-soaked canopy. Where was Sophia? I would've thought that she would've stayed with Flynn once she arrived, but the blonde was no where in sight.

"So what's the plan? We're seriously not going to hike around in Easkey until we luckily stumble upon the location?" I asked. "What about my brother? Is he on his way? Should we wait a bit longer?"

"Patience, Little Sparrow. First off, um, no. I may be an elite agent of Cimeria, but I'm not walking anywhere in this weather that takes more than ten minutes. Second, how could you possibly ask the question about your brother's whereabouts. You Sparrows have this thing of appearing faster than possible. So, no, we're not waiting."

"Don't sass me, Flynn William Darkwood," I snapped.

"Don't call me by my middle name, you short twerp," he shot back. As I opened my mouth to counter his retort, there was a large bang against the window, sending adrenaline through my veins for a short moment.
        I peered through rain-soaked glass to see myself (and I'm not talking about my reflection) glaring right back at me, an impatient pout on her lips.
It was Sophia; I would be able to identify that frown in sleep for having seen it so many times when Logan spoke to me. Something was very wrong with this picture, though.
            First off, Sophia was wearing a wig. Not just any wig. She looked like a replica of me, with the dark shades falling down to her waist despite the fact that it was in a ponytail.
Secondly, as my curiosity and angry nature took over, making me smack my face against the window to get a better look at her, I realized that her eyes were no longer the bright blue shade of the afternoon sky--instead they were dark and grim, lined with a lot of eyeliner.