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Christmas in Dixie	By : roxyfic Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Male Views: 16547 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Christmas in Dixie
- 2-2
- 3-3b
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 12
- 13
Christmas in Dixie

Part Thirteen
Dom had never quite experienced anything like Christmas morning in the O'Connor house.

The sun had barely crawled over the horizon when Neal's two oldest boys came barreling into the study. They pounced on Brian and Dom, leaping up and down on them in their excitement.

"Get up, get up," the boys yelled until the two men complied. Their mission accomplished, the boys tore out of the room shouting to anyone not yet aware of the fact, "Santa came in the night!"

"He's not the only one," Brian said with a slightly wobbly smile.

"Liked my little gift, didn't ya?" Dom asked smugly.

Brian moaned in answer as he gingerly stepped into his jeans and, with exaggerated care, zipped them up. "I think you sucked me raw," he whispered in awe.

Dom chuckled. "Well you did sorta beg for it."

Brian sniffed. "I was begging for your dick, not your --"

"You boys decent in there?" called Brian's mother through the partially open door.

Dom's eyes grew round as he quickly fastened his work pants and dove headfirst into his turtleneck.

"Much as we'll ever be," Brian answered through his smile.

Marlene peered around the door, her face uncertain. "Jill didn't by chance leave the baby's wipes in here did she? That little cherub of hers is sporting quite the mess, all those cookies she's been teething on and ... oh, there they are," she said as she spotted the blue plastic box on the desk and moved toward.

Brian and Dom shared a look of amused horror as she snatched up the wipes and bustled away.

"I think the bathroom's free if you two want to make a quick trip," she said over her shoulder. "Can't keep the young'unz away from their presents much longer and we like everyone to be gathered 'round the tree before we start to open things."

A short ten minutes later found the entire clan squeezed into the front parlor. The children were diving into the pile of presents, Laura and Milla trying desperately to match up chubby hands with the correct gifts. Patrick and Marlene were snuggled together on one end of the davenport; Neal on the other. Tony sat in the armchair with Jillian perched on his lap. She was holding her once again sweet smelling baby protectively in her arms, safely out of the fray. Brian was on the footstool and Dom sat comfortably on the floor between his feet.

Chaos reined, paper flew, and shrieks were heard as the children ripped open their presents greedily looked around for more.

"This one's for you," Milla smiled as she handed Dom a rather large flat box.

"That's the one from me," Brian said with a grin.

Brian leaned over Dom's shoulder, eagerly watching for his reaction and looking more than a little uncertain. Even more curious than before, Dom tore the paper off to reveal --

"Shit," Dom hissed softly as he stared down at what Brian had given him.

It was like looking directly into the past. There he stood with arms spread wide, like a king before his subjects. A smug smile of superiority twisting his lips as looked at the throng of adoring people surrounding him. Brian was there, gazing at him with a goofy grin -- fascination and obsession clear on his face. But he and Brian weren't the only ones Dom recognized in the picture and his heart broke at the sight of the familiar faces.

Leone was there, right behind Brian. He faded into the crowd, just blended in like always.

Letty was glaring at the spot where Brian stood amongst the throng, exuding a tough, tender possessiveness that made Dom frown with a sharp pang of loss. Letty had been like a wild thing -- passionate and tempestuous -- God how he'd loved her, even if he'd never really understood her.

Vince was there, right at his shoulder, guarding his back. He'd always been the perfect second, the king's right hand man. The camera had perfectly captured the suspicion and hatred on his face as he'd looked at Brian. Dom had never given Vince enough credit. If he had trusted his best friend's instincts way back then -- where would they be now?

Mia looked gorgeous, even her doting big brother could admit that. Long dark hair framing her perfect face and sultry eyes. She was smiling shyly. Peering from beneath her brows at Brian, an invitation clear on his baby sister's face.

Of all of them, only Jesse's attention was focused on something other than Brian. His stockingcap-covered head was beneath the hood of Brian's heavily detailed neon-green Eclipse. His face turned to the side and twisted in a look of worried disgust as he inventoried the damage Brian's wild run had done to the rice-rocket's engine.

"Where did you get this?" Dom finally growled out, looking up.

"Surveillance photo," Brian said quietly. "Got it from Tanner a long time ago. I thought ... I hoped ... do you like it?" he finally spit out, his nervousness almost painful to see.

Dom looked back down at the picture. So much had changed since this photo had been taken. Back then he'd been king of the streets, a tough guy who'd thought he was too fast and too smart to ever be caught.

Fuck, he sure as shit had been wrong about a lot of things.

And with a wide grin, he looked back up at the man who'd caught him. "Yeah, Bri. I like it."

"Lemme see, lemme see," Laura burst out as she leaned over brother's lap in order to look down at the framed photo.

Dom glanced up and was surprised to find the room quite. The children were playing with their new toys in the doorway and he and Brian seemed to be the center of attention.

"This was after that first drag race, right?" she asked curiously, twisting to look at Brian. "When you were playing undercover cop?" Not waiting for an answer, she prattled on, "Oooh, look at that car!" If she were purposefully trying to break up the tension and lighten the mood, she couldn't have done a better job. "Is this your sister, Dom?" she asked, pointing at Letty.

"Naw, that's Letty, my girlfriend," he explained with surprising peace and pointed to the other dark haired girl in the picture. "That's Mia."

"She's gorgeous!"

"The girlfriend?" Neal asked with a smirk as he rose from the sofa and moved curiously closer.

"No, you dolt," Laura said. "The sister. Though ..." She frowned at the picture that she'd now completely commandeered from Dom. "Letty is pretty. Tiny and kind of scary looking -- sorta masculine ..." Laura remarked softly, her eyes going wide. " ... but pretty."

Brian snorted out a laugh and nudged Dom playfully with his foot. "Describes Letty just about right -- a real butch."

Dom opened his mouth to defend his ex-girlfriend, but remained silent. Brian would never forgive Letty for deserting Dom without a word after everything fell apart. It was one of the things that Brian still felt guilty for, that all Dom's friends, even his sister, had deserted him.

Deciding to let the past rest. Dom leaned comfortably back against Brian's legs and relaxed as Laura showed the picture to the rest of the curious O'Connors.

"Why that's the young man that was here the other day," the Pastor noted with excitement as he pointed to the picture.

"Huh?" Brian asked.

"They boy in the stockingcap," the Pastor explained. "He was the driver."

"Jesse?" Dom asked in confusion as he saw who the old man was pointing at.

"Dad that's impossible," Brian said softly.

"No, I'm sure," the Pastor said firmly. "This young man was driving this very car." He tapped at the image of the long-destroyed Eclipse. "Remember, Marlene? I told you about that strange visitor, the one with the limp, at the church?" She nodded. "He said his name was Lenny and that he was in town waiting for a couple of friends. When he left, he got into this green car and I caught site of the boy driving. This is him, black fingernail polish and all ..." His voice trailed off as Dom and Brian both surged to their feet.

"The one with the limp, what'd he look like?" Dom demanded.

"A small fellow, drab looking, brown hair, brown eyes, glasses ... "

Dom's dusky skin paled.

"Dad, that's impossible," Brian said hollowly. "Jesse is dead and so is Lenny -- Tookie. I was there when they were murdered. I saw them both die."

Marlene gasped and clutched at her throat, Neal looked at his brother with new respect, and Laura cried out is dismay as the realization of just how much danger Brian had lived through hit them.

"But ... but it was the visit from them that got me to thinking about the motel. They *led* me to you. They ... " The confusion cleared on the old man's face and he seemed to glow from within. "Angels," he said with reverent certainty.

~*~

Bilkins was still sitting there looking through the files when the sky began to lighten -- Christmas morning had arrived. He rose to his feet, stretched, and smiled down at the gently snoring form of his partner. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone and hit speed dial one.

"I'm sorry," he said softly when his wife answered on the first ring. "No, I'm fine," he answered her frantic question. "Something came up. You know how it goes." He looked down at the case file strewn across the desk, at the pictures of his murdered agents and gently interrupted his wife's questions. "Honey, there's something I have to do." He paused for the span of a few heartbeats before speaking into the silence coming from the other end of the call. "I love you," he said as picked up the picture of Morgan Taylor surrounded by his five, now fatherless, children. "Kiss the kids for me and tell them ... just tell them that I love them."

With that he flipped his phone closed, shutting off the sound of her voice. Resolve filled his face and his heart.

"Time to open my present," Bilkins said. He moved to the cabinet, unlocked it and withdrew a high-powered rifle. With deliberate movements, Bilkins slid the weapon into a carry-case and selected a box of ammunition. "Now, as for your gift." Bilkins snapped his badge off his belt and laid it on the desk beside Ormond. "Keep this for me, my friend. After today, I won't be needing it anymore." He patted the sleeping man on the shoulder and left the office.

Even though St. Joe's was only a twenty-minute drive and morning service wouldn't start for another two hours, Bilkins planned on arriving early. He wanted plenty of time to find a secluded spot with a clear view of the front steps.

He had to one more present to give.

~*~

"What are you doing in here alone, dear?" Marlene asked as she entered their bedroom. "The children miss you."

Pastor O'Connor looked up from his Bible. "Oh, nothing. I just felt the need to delve into the Word."

"What's troubling you?" she asked as she recognized the disquiet on his face.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I just have this feeling that something isn't right."

~*~
"Rise and shine, Edward," Jones called out as he threw open the doors to Eddy's room. "It's Christmas and all is right with my world."

Eddy scuttled from the bed and stood before his master.

"Get dressed; we have to be at the church in a little over an hour."

~*~
Other than the wind, things were still quiet around St. Joe's when Bilkins arrived. He parked in the side parking lot and looked up at the tall cathedral. The ornate stonework -- statues of Cherubim and Seraphim patrolling the eaves and turrets -- had always impressed him, a touch of old world gothic that fit perfectly into the City of Angels. He'd been here before for a couple weddings, a few funerals, and even the occasional Mass when he felt the need to be closer to God, but this time was different. This time he had a very definite goal -- a very specific purpose -- and it had nothing to do with his religion.

His shoes barely made a sound as he walked around the back of the building and passed the dumpsters overflowing with Christmas wrap from the children's party the night before. The wind caught a crumpled ball of crimson and gold paper, tossing it playfully toward his ankles. Bilkins glanced down at the babe in a manger depicted on the colorful wrapping. A shaft of guilt hit him, but he swallowed it down and stepped over the wad of paper.

He took a firmer grip on the sniper rifle, determined to see this through to the very end.

~*~

Eddy cringed as a gloved hand squeezed his swollen testicles painfully.

"You naughty boy. You kept me waiting," Jones hissed as he jerked Eddy toward the waiting car. "Just for that, I may have to punish you on the ride."

Eddy's eyes lit up with sudden interest.

~*~

It had taken Bilkins a while to find the perfect spot -- on the roof of the YMCA situated across the street from St. Joe's. He'd had to bust a few locks to gain access, but he figured those were minor sins compared to what he planned to do shortly.

He scanned to scene laid out below him. Worshippers had started to arrive and filled the area in front of the church. Bilkins raised his eyes so that he was looking directly at the line of granite angels standing at attention on the battlements above the main doors.

"Help me with my aim," he prayed softly. He didn't want to hurt an innocent by accident.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, as if signaling on oncoming storm. Bilkins turned his head into the strong gust and spotted the car the moment it rounded the corner. Even amidst the throng of limos and town cars, this ride stood out. It was the aura of evil; the faint tendrils of menace that wafted off and swirled around the dark, low slung limousine that gave it away.

Devlin Jones had arrived for Christmas Mass.

~*~

"The depths of your responses never fail to astound me, Edward," Jones said with genuine delight as Eddy tucked his shirt back into his pants. "I do so enjoy *punishing* you." An elegant hand tenderly touched Eddy's cheek. "I missed you. You know that, don't you?"

Eddy nodded eagerly and said, "I missed you too."

"Liar!" Jones hissed as his pleasant facade fell away and his face turned hideous with rage. "You pined for that hulking brute, that mixed breed convict -- Toretto. He's who you missed." Jones smoothed both his face and his clothes. "Don't think for one moment that I've forgotten him, Edward. In fact, as soon as the service is concluded, I do believe I'll issue a pick-up order. I want to see this brute -- to personally punish him for stealing your affections away from me."

~*~

Bilkins slid the safety off as he took a firm and expert grip on the rifle. He lowered his head, laid his cheek against the cool metal stock, and peered through the scope. Eddy Preston's pudgy face came into focus. Bilkins hesitated. He hated Eddy with a passion, but the sick fuck was not his target. A flash of red caught his eye, the sun glinting off Jones' blood colored hair. He moved the gun minutely, shifting his aim just enough so that the cross hairs were centered between Devlin Jones' immaculately clad shoulders.

Bilkins had come to his decision sometime during the long night. He'd watched Ormond as he'd gotten drunk and passed out. He'd envied his friend, knowing that mere alcohol would never be enough to wash away Jones' smug face from his own mind. Bilkins knew that he needed more. He needed to rid the world of Jones once and for all and if it meant committing murder and either getting the death penalty or spending years behind bars for his crime -- he'd do it. His only regret -- and it was a big one -- was the effect this would have on his family. His children too, would be fatherless. He knew his wife would stand by him; he never doubted that she'd understand, perhaps even approve, but with his act he'd be sentencing her to widowhood or years of loneliness.

But he *had* to do this.

His view was reduced to the round window of the scope with Devlin Jones dead center. "Help me, Lord," he whispered as his finger tightened on the trigger and began to slowly squeeze.

~*~

Patrick O'Connor looked around at his family as they gathered for lunch. Even though their table was huge there was barely enough room for them all and he smiled at the wonderful sight.

"Let us hold hands," he said. He bowed his head and prepared to recite his usual blessing over their meal. Instead, he felt the prickle of unease that he'd felt earlier. "Lord, help us," he whispered without quite knowing why. "And bless this food," he added quickly when he looked up to see the concerned look of those around him.

~*~

As he was squeezing the trigger, preparing to put a bullet through Jones' black heart, Bilkins was suddenly blinded. His sniper's scope went dark, completely obscuring his target. At the last possible instant, he was able to stop the movement of his finger before sending a wild shot into the crowd. Horrified and stunned, he pulled his eye away from the scope and looked unbelievably at what had had blocked his aim.

A large piece of Christmas wrapping paper, blown by the wind, was wound around the rifle. Dark blue, decorated with white and gold angels, it clung to the gun. Bilkins could only stare at it as another gust of wind, even stronger than before, made the paper flutter wildly. The strength of the wind tore the paper loose and as it took flight, it looked for all the world like the beating wings of an angel.

Bilkins watched as it soared high and flew across the busy street below. It rose on a current of wind, which was now so strong that Bilkins had to brace his feet against a ventilation duct in order to keep from being blown off the roof.

The angelic paper continued its flight and Bilkins was held spellbound by it. Eventually the wrapping was caught on the spear tip of one of the stone Cherubim adorning the walls of St. Joe's. The dark blue, white, and gold paper looked like a battle flag on a soldier's staff as the wind whipped it back and forth -- ever faster, ever more furiously -- in the howling wind until --

The angel moved!

Devlin Jones was forgotten as Bilkins watched a crack appear in the robes of the granite angel. It shifted. It twisted. Torn loose from its foundation, it plunged downward toward the parishioners gathered below.

~*~

Dev Jones stopped abruptly and looked heavenward, some inner voice apparently hissing a warning. What he saw descending rapidly toward him was enough to make him spin agilely around, preparing to run.

And perhaps he would have made it safety were it not for --

Eddy had been trailing his master with his head down, his eyes on the concrete walk. No warning of impending danger had been issued to him. As Jones turned he ran full on into Eddy and they went down together in a tangle of limbs with Eddy on the bottom, as usual.

His brown eyes went wide as he stared over Jones' shoulder, upward toward a winged angel hurtling at them, a blue banner flying gloriously in the wind.

Jones struggled to rise, to run, to save himself. He shoved a knee painfully into Eddy's belly and pushed at the boy's chest in an attempt to get up.

But Eddy wouldn't allow it.

With surprising strength, the chubby hands took hold of Jones' upper arms as Eddy pulled his master close one final, deadly embrace.

~*~

"We interrupt this program with a news bulletin."

All heads swiveled toward the TV where the familiar face of the CBS news anchor appeared pre-empting the college football game they'd been watching.

"We have learned, and confirmed, that just moments ago an accident occurred on the steps of St. Joseph's Cathedral in Los Angeles where thousands of people were gathered for Christmas Mass. Apparently, an unusually strong gust of wind tore loose some of the decorative stonework and crushed two people. The names are not -- please hold ... we have some new information and a live feed from L.A. What's going on there, Sandy?"

A dark skinned woman came into focus, the picture jittery. "This is Sandrita Gonzalus, live in front of St. Joe's where, in a truly bizarre turn of events, the infamous, accused murderer Devlin Jones and his longtime associate, Edward Preston have been killed. Witness report that the men were nearing the steps of the cathedral when a *gust of wind* toppled one of the granite angels that line the roof. It fell and crushed them, narrowly missing dozens of others."

"Devlin Jones?" the anchor asked in voice over.

"Jones?" Brian asked in disbelief as he turned his toward Dom.

"And Eddy," Dom said, satisfaction clear in his voice.

"That's right, Dan," Sandy confirmed. "The same Devlin Jones that is currently under indictment for the murder of two FBI agents. Rumors have also recently surfaced that the star witness for the prosecution, Eddy Preston, had recanted his statements, refusing to testify against his lover. And since they were together at the time of the *accident* we can only assume those rumors were true."

"And did you say it was an *angel* that fell from the roof of the church, Sandy?"

"Yes, Dan. We have confirmed that it was the stone effigy of the Archangel Michael. Catholic tradition lists Michael as the highest-ranking soldier in the order of Cherubim, the warrior angels that make up the Heavenly Host, otherwise known as the army of God."

Pastor Patrick O'Connor nodded his head and silently whispered, "Thank You."

~*~

The End

Yipes! I thought I'd never get this uploaded! Everything is working good now. Hope you enjoyed!

best wishes,
~rox
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Christmas in Dixie