Raised By Wolves

Raised By Wolves

One Way Trip to Hell

Alexandra's Point of View

It felt like my heart was pounding so hard it was just about ready to pop out of my chest. I glanced behind me to find my competition bent over and heavily panting. Pansies; all of them. The revelation only made me grin and, with a newfound energy, I turned sharply and ran back towards the four gigantic losers.

"Aw, come on guys, you can keep up with a little girl, can't you?" I mocked. Serves them right, just because I was on the short side and they were freakishly tall, didn't give them the right to say I belonged in the home. Doing the job of a woman.

I spit in their face—spit, spit, spit; ha! Kevin raised his hunched head to send me a pathetic excuse for a glare. He stood upright and looked down at me. "H-how do you do that?" He let out in a strangled breath. I could tell he was just searching for some snide comment. Michael clapped his hand on Kevin's back.

"Let it go, man, let it go." He led Kevin away while murmuring soothing words to him.

"But she's just so…" I rolled my eyes at their shenanigans and grinned. Aaron draped his arm over my shoulder and began walking back to the apartment with me. Devon was chuckling.

"You did it again, Pup." He said. I grinned up at him with pride. Hell yeah, I did.

"Why the hell didn't you ever join track or cross-country?" Aaron questioned. I shrugged. "You know, the life of sports can be very glamorous. You don't expect to get a free-ride through life on us, do you?" He asked. I scoffed.

"Uh—yeah! You guys don't even let me have a life; how do you expect me to live on my own?!" I asked. It was a dignified question. They were a year older than me, but I'd skipped a grade due to the fact they don't let me do anything without one of them by my side.

"You're too tiny, and you're too young." Devon scolded. I hated having this conversation almost as much as my moronic brothers did. I sent a glare in his direction. One of the most sufficient lessons I ever had from The Pack: glaring and glowering. None of that eye-squinting crap.

"I'm almost seventeen." I mumbled. And I object to that 'tiny' comment! I'm one of the tallest girls that attend Trent Valley! I heard Aaron sigh, and I couldn't really blame him; Devon and I often had this argument. The two of them shot me their specially reserved 'shut up, Alex' looks before dropping the subject.

I abhorred that look with such deep detest, it was unfathomable.

"Whatever; there's a party tonight." Aaron broke the silence. The comment was so obviously directed at Devon, I completely ignored it. More silence. I wasn't looking at them, because I positively knew they were doing that freaky telepathic-like thing with their eyes. The quadruplets evidently knew something I didn't and were purposely keeping it from me.

But, no matter what the surreptitious behaviour entailed, I'd find out sooner rather than later.

"Oh, you know I'm there." Devon and Aaron did there excessively complex handshake. I'd attempted it once…needless to say, it wasn't pretty. I should have expected as much with my overall clumsiness. Everyone else did. I sighed inwardly.

I'd hoped they would have remembered, but it was one of those situations where you knew hoping was futile. But, nevertheless of what was utmost fact, you wasted you energy on the inane effort. Some called it insanity, naivety, imprudence, or all of the above. My choice is the latter. Although they are my older brothers; I'm allowed to have a little faith in them.

But, palpably, I gave them a tad too much. You'd think they actually noticed the bright orange flyer hanging up, plain in view, on the refrigerator. But, no, they're blind and stupid. No kidding, only I could get such dense quadruplets as brothers. I swear they have peanuts for brains.

"Alex, we're out!" I was vaguely aware of Kevin shouting through the confined space of our sorry-excuse-of-an-apartment. That's right; they were off to their party.

Insufferable morons.

I subconsciously gathered my coat and overly-stuffed bag as well as my work necessities and headed out the door. With the identical gits gone, I had to venture deep into the unexplored bowels of my purse to find my blasted keys. Well, key. I believe I had more key chains than I did keys.

Cell-phone, wallet, string, gum pack, empty gum pack, ten more empty gum packs, water bottle not filled with water—we won't investigate that matter any longer than needed, unidentifiable crap, and…ah, various key chains with a barely visible key attached!

Well, I'll be damned; at that rate, I'd only be twenty minutes late. Record timing.

However, economy seems to have a grudge against my not being later than I already am; I severely revile public transit. Not only because people hold resentment towards deodorant sticks, or because of those jackasses who decided to sing along to their mp3 players in their rather loud and blood curdling voices, and not even because of those cows that use up seats for their bags.

Ass-wipes.

Back on track; my relentless dislike for public transit is…the wonderfully idiotic bus-drivers that decide to stop in the middle of the road to shoot some kid on a tricycle a glare because the effing bus had the effing right of effing way. Ta-da!

My…vocabulary limits itself when in pissed-off mode. Strange, it happens in tedious mode, as well.

I received a few glances as I placed myself—rather messily—into a seat. Hey, they can think I'm insane; I don't care. There's a guy in a bird costume over there and I'm not judging. So if feather-butt can be treated like a pluck-able human being, then my excessive luggage shouldn't qualify me as insane. Or a terrorist. Or a suicide bomber—which is basically a different breed of terrorists.

Thank God, the only being that seems the least bit compassionate towards me in such times, the intolerable ride came to an end. I only wished I were in London and could simply hop off without the bus having to even stop.

If only.

Alas, the doors were opened and I was relinquished to my over-due gig. The rest of the semi-pathetic band were going to mangle me as soon as I stepped foot into the café. What a shame, I guess they'll have to find another—

"Oh my God, thank God, you're finally here! Jesus Christ, what hell is wrong with you? You need more consideration, Pup, honestly. I mean, Dahlia has only been shitting Frisbees since the moment you weren't early." Ah…Candace Linkin. We can always count on good old Candy to overreact and give details that are very much unneeded.

"Tell her to shove a cork in it and get her act together." Candy sighed but went to find Dahlia anyways.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to get her well-rounded ass over here." Zachary Reaux. Now French, but insists he's exotic. I don't deny it; his despicable disease had to have come from somewhere. He winked at me. "And I do mean well-rounded." I twisted my mouth and swatted his anomalous hair-covered head.

"Shut up and get those drums set up." I directed. He quirked an eyebrow upward.

"It's been done for half an hour, babe." I moved to swat at him again, but the boy learned his lesson and ducked away. I heard his infectious laughter as he played with his drum sticks. The dimwitted mule was exceedingly cute, yes, it's a shame he says the same about my brothers.

Damn you, bisexuality. Damn you to the innards of hell. Deep, deep, deep, down. And let you burn.

"Alright, let's get this started." Dahlia emerged from a direction unbeknownst to me. Jerry, the café's manager walked up behind her.

"Hello, Alex." He said kindly. I smiled.

"Hey, Jer. Anything you want us to play in particular?" I asked as I plugged the love of my life into an amp. My gorgeous, gorgeous guitar. I love her so.

"Well, you're lucky today, Alex. The usual rush seems to be running even later than you were. Start with something slow." I saw the small grin creep slowly onto his features. "Black Magic Woman?" He suggested. I instantly smiled and climbed onto the stage-esque platform.

"You know I love Santana." He nodded and went back to attend business as Candy set up her keyboard. "All set?" I called behind me. Zachary gave me some random beat off the top of his head as a response whilst Candy played a bar of Mozart. Dahlia chuckled quietly before tapping on her microphone to be positive it was effective.

"Alright. Zack, put those sticks down and grab the bongos; you know we need them for Black Magic Woman." Dahlia directed. That was just like her; always serious and almost never laid back. She signalled Candy to begin. Soon, Zachary and I had joined in.

Did I mention I love Santana? Well, I do. Not only is it über fantastic to listen too, but I absolutely adore playing his chords. I don't understand how people can bitch about it. I mean, it's always, 'finger positioning' this, or 'all his chords are the same' that. I swear, if someone tells me today, that Carlos Santana sucks; I will kick their ass so hard they'll turn inside-out.

Dahlia was singing now. She has an awesome voice. Seriously. I stand by my prediction she'll be getting a recording contract soon. Actually, surprising enough, she likes this song because she doesn't have to sing much. She's always complaining that she's jealous of me because I'm on the guitar—which, according to her takes actual skill, whereas singing does not.

Completely and utterly her wording.

Dahlia honestly prefers hearing Zachary, Candy, and me playing alone than she does with her in the picture. Strange? Absolutely. Cool? No; awesome. I tried teaching her the basics once. I told her to stick to singing.

Not much protest, there.

Soon later the usual horde of people surrounded the café. It was hard to tell whether or not everyone had a Siamese twin. We'd taken some requests, some exceptionally peculiar requests—no we do not know the rock version of the freaking Teletubby theme-song. We played a Jonas Brothers song for this adorable little girl with pigtails.

I couldn't resist saying yes.

We played a couple of our own songs, some Aerosmith, Hedley, Faber Drive, Guns and Roses—hell, even the Cheetah Girls came up. All in all, it was…a broad range of music. Unfortunately, the night was over, and so was our gig. Jerry paid us and off we went.

"Hey, Alex, I don't think I saw the Pack in the crowd; did they come late?" Dahlia asked. I shook my head.

"Nah, they went to a party. I'm guessing this excruciatingly important part of my life slipped their minds." I grinned at her as she rolled her eyes.

"We play here every week." She stated before doing a double-take. "Then again, there were a lot of people tonight." I was wondering what that was about. Friday nights were usually busy, but the crowd that had gathered demonstrated pure insanity.

"Well, it was the opening of the new addition, so, I guess that explains the crowd." I said. Candy—being her completely erratic self—decided to appear from thin air right next to me.

"And Jerry said he made a few calls for his favourite band." She added in chirpily. I raised an eyebrow.

"And why am I only finding out about this now?" I asked; both Candy and Dahlia remained silent. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say, Zack knew too, didn't he?" They nodded. I stared at them—mostly in shock. Candy couldn't keep a secret on her life.

Impressive. I then smiled.

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't, because I would have entirely freaked out." Dahlia clicked her tongue.

"Excessively so." Zack muttered. I gave them a lopsided grin before endeavouring through the freakishly large mob that were twittering on about the café…as well as our performance. I spotted the little Jonas Brothers fan when she made a comment on Dahlia's singing.

"Mommy, that lady singing was really pretty, and her singing was pretty, too!" The child couldn't have been more than five years of age; her vocabulary was limited. I wasn't surprised to hear about Candy or Zachary, because they were simply brilliant. I heard a few compliments on the 'charismatic guitar player', blushed, then continued through with my head ducked.

The thing that surprised me: the air-headed blonde who was babbling on about 'the four identical guys with the back hair and hazel eyes'. I've decided to leave out a few choice words that take the word 'sexy' and put it to shame. Ten times over. The comment made me snap my head up, barely avoiding whiplash, I'm sure.

Then, in the non-so-far distance, I saw four black bobs of hair huddled together. The subtle height differences and one head with slightly shorter hair was so obvious to me, I was surprised I hadn't seen it earlier. Not aware of the damned grin that had already broken out across my face and ran—or shuffled, rather—over to my wonderfully moronic quadruplets.

That's right; my quadruplets. It is my duty to protect them from mindless drones with a chest-size larger than their IQ.

"I thought you were at a party!" I cried as soon as I'd entered earshot. The four of them all smirked. Creepy.

"And I thought you'd have more faith in us! This was a big night for you guys." Michael said, he seemed almost disappointed. Michael; indefinitely dependable. I smiled, then paused and let the smile fall.

"What d'you 'big night'?" I asked. The eerie smirk thing happened again. "You guys knew about Jerry's little phone-calls, didn't you?" I asked. Kevin grinned. I'm surrounded by imbeciles.

"Maybe." Aaron said cheekily. I narrowed my eyes.

"You could have told me! I would have put more effort into—"

"—completely freaking out." They finished in unison. I growled in the back of my throat.

"I hate you guys." I folded my arms over my chest defiantly. Then they pouted. All four of them. Damn it all. "I love you guys." I was immediately swallowed my eight arms in a—literally—breathtaking hug. "Thanks for coming." I felt one of them place a kiss to the crown of my head.

"Like we'd miss it." I was pretty sure that was Devon, which was appalling because he's the most closed off of the four. I smiled, despite the fact they couldn't see it.

"You were fantastic. I loved the Jonas Brothers song." I could hear the sarcasm dripping from Kevin's words. I smirked and stepped back from the embrace, at last.

"Joe Jonas is incredibly—"

"No more listening to them." Michael interjected.

"No more looking at them." Aaron added with a scowl.

"No more use of the word 'brother' and/or 'brothers'." Devon scolded.

"And 'Jonas' is wholly off-limits. As well as Joe and Nick." Kevin muttered. I smirked up at him before hitting the back of his head. He raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

"Kevin Jonas, brother to Joe and Nick, did that to Nick in an episode of Hannah Montana." I said before strutting dramatically to the doorway.

"How—" He cut himself off, "no more YouTube!" He called out behind me. I laughed. I was just about to step out of the blessed door into the outside haven of smoke. Huh. Guess it really couldn't be considered a haven if I could die from other people being incompetent and killing themselves slowly with tiny sticks.

"Hey, Alex, you forget your guitar by the stage." I appraised Jerry with a thankful gaze.

"Oh my God, thank you so much." He smiled at me and gave me a small wave when I stepped through the door. I was vaguely aware of my brothers' presence behind me. So I turned and handed them the case. Hey, I carried it there, thought my own family wouldn't be showing up, and found out they all kept a gigantic secret from me! They don't deserve to carry my beautiful guitar, but it was the heaviest thing I had.

I may be cruel, but I wasn't about to make poor Aaron carry my TNA bag. No matter how heavy it was.

I walked ahead of them again, and awaited some more amusement. Three…two…one…

"Alex, stop swaying your hips." Kevin.

"Do not flip your hair!" Michael.

"Don't you dare flaunt your butt." Aaron.

"I swear to God, Pup, if you don't zip up that sweater…" Devon. I was going to turn to them and shoe them my ever-growing smirk, but the show, apparently, had yet to finish. How embarrassing. It's like giving applause, and then the performer is like, 'I'm not done'.

"Don't make me—" Michael?

"…break faces—"

"…gonna have a record if—" Aar—De—Mike—vin? Uh…

"…use your guitar—"

"—shit faced—"

"—forty-three year old—"

"—ice cream truck—"

"—chocolate bar—" Assholes. They were making me hungry.

"—fucking PMS—"

"—singing damn jingle bells—"

"—ogling pervert—"

"—pedophile with newspapers—"

"—watch you eat bananas—" What…the hell?! Heh. I have another idea that may just get me locked up in a basement. I glanced at them over my shoulder before swaying my hips more as we passed a bar. I kissed my palm before slapping it against the side of my butt. I could practically feel their eyes widen as the three hot guys—and let me be the first to say hot—whistled at me.

"Alex!" They half shouted, half growled at me.

"Hello, Alex." One of the guys said—also very hot, may I add. Maybe the best looking, if I really had the chance to get a better look. But from my short-lived gaze, all I knew was that he couldn't be much older than the quartet of morons, and that he looked damn good in a smirk. Also; that was pure flirtation, right there.

Evidently, I suffer from temporary insanity. I winked at him. Me. I'm only the slightest tad of bold when I'm with my brothers. Or when I'm playing a gig. But that's why I don't sing. I can't stand the spotlight or damned attention.

That's Dahlia's job. And Candy's hair. And my brothers. Hell, even Zack gets more attention and enjoys it more than I do.

Hopefully, Dreadfully Hot Guy—or, you know, Unknown would do justice—wouldn't get mauled by my poor, naïve brothers. I'm only human. Well, teenager; at the very least.

"Good morning." I grinned as I sat down in our humble abode's kitchen table. And I do mean humble. Sue me; I'm a cynical morning person. Devon glared at me from his bowl of unidentifiable cereal.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you were sadistic." He muttered before shovelling the colourful gloop into his mouth.

"I'm a happy sadist." I clarified. He scoffed but said no more on the matter. Michael walked into the puny room and gave me a one-armed hug before pausing and turning me around to face him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked. God, I seem to be getting that a lot this morning. "What was that yesterday?" I grinned.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I called Candy and Dahlia and told them the whole story. This morning, I got a text from Zack. He said he was jealous. You don't understand how riveting it was; I winked at a guy, Mikey. Me." His lips twitched as though fighting off a grin of his own.

"Oh, it's hopeless. You know I can't get mad at her." He called out. Kevin and Aaron came out from behind a wall while muttering obscenities under their breaths.

"No more winking." The three remaining brothers snapped at me simultaneously. I grinned. It was all too easy.

"But we're a go for the little 'kiss this' motion." I elucidated. Four growls met my ears. "Okay, okay, just the 'kiss' and 'this' are now separated." I mumbled. Aaron raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. "I refuse to give up my all my flirting skills. Lord knows I need them." Kevin stared at me.

"No flirting." Wow, thank you. As if you hadn't made that obvious with a rule like: 'no licking the spoon in public'. Yes, my dear friends, we are speaking of the utensil. Mind out of the gutter, please and thank you. My eyes caught some envelopes on the table.

"Hey, what're these?" I shuffled through five important looking envelopes. All identical with different names sprawled across them neatly. I didn't bother reading them all. I opened one addressed to Michael Sanders. "Boarding school?" I asked curiously. I glanced at them, but all were avoiding my eyes. I looked at two other envelopes, both with the same insignia and writing as the first and last. "What the hell are these?" I asked. Devon sighed.

"We're going to boarding school." I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

"By we…you mean…?" I trailed.

"The five of us." I raised an eyebrow before overlooking the pamphlet I removed from Michael's envelope.

"Fairview Preparatory Academy for Boys." I shook my head and dropped the pamphlet. I glanced at the last envelope; addressed to an Alexander Sanders. Alexander Sanders?! "Alexander Sanders." I mumbled. Kevin looked away.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. I glared.

"This was your idea? Why?!" I asked. He sucked in a deep breath.

"I'm not going over this with you. I don't need to worry you with a problem that's been solved." I shook my head at him and stood up so his height defiance wouldn't be quite so large.

"When are you guys going to get it? You can't protect me forever. By doing this you're only setting me p for more pain. What happens when there's something you can't prevent?! It'll hurt ten times more than it should have." Problem solved, my ass.

"Alex." Aaron's calm voice brought me back. I sucked in breath from my nose.

"Sorry, Kevin." I whispered before returning to my seat. I looked up expectantly. "Money?" I asked. The four of them nodded grimly. I chewed on my bottom lip. "Then…how can we—?"

"Scholarships." Michael answered without my having to finish the sentence. I nodded. I suddenly eased the tension without knowing it by leaning against the back of my seat and picking up the pamphlet and reading the school's name for the third time.

"But, uh—problem solved?" I asked. Kevin shrugged and nodded once. I cleared my throat in an off-handed way. "Fairview Preparatory Academy for Boys." I pursed my lips. "I'm a girl." I informed them. Devon rolled his eyes.

"No shit." Aaron hit the back of his head.

"Thank you, Aar." Devon muttered something that sounded like, 'traitor'. "Now…about my issues." I grinned lopsidedly. "I'd say I have big ones, but I don't want to come off conceited." They groaned. Damn. Twice in less than twenty-four hours.

"We'll figure something out." Michael said with minor trouble.

"Or dump you and your issues onto Candy and Dahlia and let them take care of all the gory details." Devon recommended. Amen, to that. Apparently, his identical dimwits agreed.

"You love gore." I stated with a look of disgust undoubtedly carved on my forehead.

"There's only so much gore a guy can take. I draw the line at my baby sister and her…" He shuddered, "issues." I grinned and shrugged.

"It'll be interesting, to say the least." Michael grinned back, unable to resist. Aaron, however, was a tad hesitant. My grin faltered before dropping completely. "What else could there possibly be? You're making me cross-dress!" They all looked outstandingly guilty.

Damn it all. Damn it all to hell.

A/N: What do you think it is?? Okay, so it's apparent I've decided to add another chapter, but please, just because I've decided to continue, stop reviewing! I'm more well-known on FFN so it's a bit of a change to not get almost immediate response.

I'm a tad impatient. PLEASE tell me what you think!! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own anything familiar that I mentioned. Such as TNA, Black Magic Woman…and whatever else there was. I obviously don't own people, though I'd love to have Nick Jonas in my grasp. P