Name: Mallory (Formerly Charley)
Story: No Child Is Spared
Colors: Halloween Orange - While he just might tell you stories, he won't ever tell you lies.
Quill Grey - The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there... clamoring to become visible. - Vladimir Nabakov
Ghost White - Witch
Supplies: Eraser (Kiiiind of?)
Rating: PG
Warnings: Wendy has a slightly uncomfortable relationship with her brother. That's it though.0
Word count; 1,431
Notes: A name change for the author tag would be lovely. :D Please and thank you. Also, I vaguely want to do more with this AU but I am not entirely sure what the hell to do with it, so we'll see if that actually happens.
Summary: Wendy believes her brother is magical, that he can transport them to strange and wonderful lands. But is she right or is she unable to tell reality from her active imagination.

She lay on her stomach, shirt discarded long ago and arms folded with her eyes shut. It was hot, hotter than she knew what to do with by they were still pressed together on the little bed they shared. It didn’t matter how hot it was, Peter was telling her a story and she always liked to be close when it was time for stories.

He wasn’t really speaking this tale though, no they were doing something different this time. He was poised on top of her, a marker resting between his fingers. He muttered the sentences a she wrote them, only loud enough for her to hear but she wasn’t concentrating on what he said, it was the feeling of ink bleeding into her skin that she cared about.

She closed her eyes and she could feel the world shit around her, could imagine them lost in forests, dancing under the moonlight. She saw fairies and magic and wonder.

He pulled her along into the stories, spun her through the stars and wrapped her up in words. Sh0e believed everything he said, could feel it around her as long as she kept her eyes closed.

And maybe it was all in her mind, maybe it was pretend but she believed it with all her heart. He could take her everywhere with his magic marker and his pretty stories.

~

“Hey,” Anya greeted as she walked in. She looked like she hadn’t slept well again and Wendy wondered what she dreamed about, what kept her from getting the rest she deserved.

“Hi!” Wendy was enthusiastic and bright, always cheery even with the heat and the fact that she didn’t sleep much either. In her mind, she spent the night exploring enchanted woods, chasing foxes and playing with the fae. Peter was there too, guiding her and makings sure they didn’t get lost.

Anya gives her a somewhat puzzled look for a moment before settling in at one of the tables, nursing a coffee while Wendy sets up the display for the day. The Bakery wouldn’t et busy for another half hour or so, so she was able to take her time. Besides,s he knew that everyone would understand I she was a bit slow. She was having an adventure and adventures make you very tired after they’re done.

“DO anything interesting,” she asks her, watching with a slightly curious if not bored expression. Wendy knows she’s supposed to keep their adventures a secret, she learned that hwen she tried to tell people at the hospital what she and her brother used to do, but it was Anya.

“I met fairies,” she tells her. “I played with them and foxes and all sots o things!” he bounces on the balls of her feet. “Peter was there and the stars were shining and we didn’t et lost in the woods like I thought we might. We stayed all night but we couldn’t stay forever. We had to come back ‘cause we had work today.”

Anya only nodded, sipping at her coffee. “Fairies, huh?” She grinned a little. “That sounds fun. How come you didn’t just stay there instead of coming here.”

“We’d miss you,” Wendy says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Besides, the stories have to end somehow. You can’t keep turning the pages, eventually you run out of ink and paper.”

“Oh, right.”

Wendy goes back to setting up displays and Anya continues to sip at her coffee, picking at a brownie that Dave had left her before he disappeared into the back.

~

Wendy sits on the floor of the shop, babbling to Baily about her adventures. The little girl looks excited, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands. She was about twelve but she still go excited when Wendy got on about the stories her brother shared with her.

“And I dunno where w’ll go tonight,” she continues. “But it’s going to be amazing. Maybe I can get him to take us to the sea! We can find mermaids and look for treasure and talk to the seagulls.”

Bailey laughs, grinning wide. “It sound so pretty, I wish I could come!”

“I don’t think you an,” Wendy informs a littler sadly. “We’ve tried showing the people and it doesn’t work. They say it’s just pretend.”

“Isn’t it?” Bailey blinks, tilting her head. “I thought..I thought it was just playing.”

Wendy pouted, shaking her head. “No, that’d be silly. Why would it be pretend?”

Bailey looks confused. “Cause fairies aren’t real? I thought they weren’t real anyway.”

“They’re real,” she said, her voice firm with conviction. “Sometimes you have to find them but they’re real. Just like Peter’s stories. They’re all real, he wouldn’t lie, he’s not good at it.”

“Okay,” Bailey agreed, although there was something in her voice that told Wendy she wasn’t entirely convinced. Her father came around a few moments later though and they stopped discussing it in favor of the girl getting chastised for not starting her homework already.

~

She knew that Teddy and Cliff didn't’ always get along. Sometimes they did, sometimes they would listen to the same music and laugh and Teddy would film Cliff as he worked but sometimes they would fight. Not the same way Anya and Cliff would but it was still fighting.

Wendy didn’t like when people fought, it scared her.

And that’s why she’s writing on the wall of the bakery, because Cliff and Teddy are fighting. Anya was fighting with them but she went off to make a delivery. That was all right hough, Wendy knew she could make Anya better, and sometimes all the woman need was to be alone in her truck for a while anyway.

But she didn’t know ho to fix the boys and she was left with the only thing she knew to work when she wasn’t feeling well.

Teddy walked in, looked at Wendy, who was still feverishly scrawling on the walks and blinked.

“Uh, Wendy?”

She turned to look at him, smiling hopefully. “Are you back? I thought you’d still be gone!”

Teddy blinked. “I didn’t go anywhere. What’re you doing?”

“”Taking you on adventure,” she said, her voice hopeful. “You weren’t happy and Cliff wasn’t happy and I thought that if I could come up with a good story fr you to get lost in, you’d be better.”

“”Uh, Wendy? It’s probably not a good idea for you to be coming up with stories on the walls. I’m just saying. Dave’s not gonna be thrilled about this decorating choice.”

Wendy pouted. “I was trying to help, I thought—”

“It’s okay,” Teddy assured. “Really, it’s cool. We should probably just clean this up.”

“But you were fighting.”

“We’re not anymore,” he promised. “Don’t worry about it.”

~

It had been a string of bad days for Wendy and all she wanted to do was hide. People scared her, noises scared her. It was a challenge to even get her out of her side of the bed, nonetheless downstairs to the bakery to work.

Peter curled around her, his fingers running through her hair and up and down her arms. He muttered soft words of comfort, reassurances that he hoped would soothe her but she still didn’t move, didn’t say anything.

“Tell me it’s real,” she finally says after a long time. “Tell me that it’s real and that the stories are real and that…That it’s not jut pretend.”

She knows that her brother didn't’ entirely follow her but he nodded nonetheless. “It’s real,” he assured. “It is, I promise. It’s all real. Nothing's pretend.”

She turns, curling into him and burrowing her had against his chest. “Bailey thought I wwas pretending and I couldn’t take away Teddy and Cliff and...and...Maybe I’m not magic. Maybe you’re magic but I’m not.”

“Magic,” he muttered into her hair. “You’re magic. You’re magic to me, I promise.”

She shook her head, finding it hard to believe him. “No, I’m not. You’re the magic, you take us places you keep us safe.”

“I get my magi from you.” He said. “I couldn’t be magic if you weren’t there.” You’re magic too, just a different kind.”

Wendy considered this, nodding her head weakly for a moment then offered a slight smile. “”Promise?”

He nods, wrapping his arms tight around her. “Promise on all the stories.”

“Tell me one<” she asked, her head raised to look at him. “Any one.”

And he nodded, shifting just a little so she can take off her shirt and he could retrieve the marker.