In the Hands of Time (Five x reader)

Prologue

~ Third Person P.O.V. ~

"Mom! Dad! I'm back from feeding the cows with Auntie Sarah-Beth!" The thirteen-year-old girl called as she entered the home. She smiled, humming as she made her way towards the kitchen, where she thought at least her mother would be, as it was getting close to supper time. "Hey Mom, do you need help-" Her voice died as she came to the doorway, seeing a pool of blood peeking around one of the chairs of their dining table.

"Mom?" She took a hesitant step forward, letting her hand leave the doorway. She took a shaky breath as she noticed a hand on the ground in the entry way across from her. "Dad?" Her shoes squelched in the blood as she turned around the table, her eyes widening at the sight of her mom on the ground, a thin slits in her throats. The girl slid to the ground, touching at her mom's shoulder. The blood coated her knees, dying the end of her skirt a deep maroon. 

"Mom?" Panic squeezed at the girl's chest as she gently shook her mom. Her mom's face turned, eyes blank. "No, no." The girl turned to the figure in the hall, her dad, scrambling to him. She slipped, hands falling in the blood, then she was grabbing at her dad. He had a matching mark on his throat, near identical to her mom's. "Dad? Dad!" She heard footsteps come into the kitchen, and she quickly stood, raising her hands as tears filled her eyes. A woman with white hair smiled at her, a quellazaire in between her fingers. 

"Hello, dear." The girl frowned, a tear slipping down her face. 

"Who are you?" The girl asked, squinting her eyes. The woman gestured her hands out to the girl. 

"I'm your new family. I'm here for you." The woman answered as she raised her quellazaire, and the girl flicked her hand over. One of the plants on the counter grew, wrapping on the quellezaire and yanking it from the woman, and then leaning towards the girl. She grabbed the quellezaire and put the cigarette in it out. 

"My parents don't allow smoking in here. You didn't answer my question. Who are you?" The girl questioned, voice insistent. The woman smiled. 

"I'm your father's sister, and that makes me your aunt." The woman walked closer to the girl. "Your powers are extraordinary, dear. No wonder there are so many plants in the house. You must practice often." The girl shrugged, holding the quellazaire out.

"Only a few times in the garden. Sometimes Uncle Reggie comes to my house. He lives a bit away, but he says the trip isn't too bad. He helped me gain better control, but other than that, I meditate mostly. Mom taught me to so I can keep control. My parents prefer I don't use my powers very much. I stay out of sight that way." The girl paused, scrunching her nose. "Besides, they never mentioned you. I only know my Uncle Reggie and my Auntie Sarah-Beth, and they're both on my mom's side. Dad said he was an only child. Besides, you don't look like you'd be my Aunt." The woman shrugged, grabbing the quellazaire back.

"I guess me and your father haven't gotten along very much the last few years, and he did have a way of holding grudges, but I know he was proud of you. (y/n), you seem beyond incredible, a very smart girl." (y/n) dropped her hands to her side. 

"It wouldn't matter, now, would it? They're not here anymore." (y/n) looked away from the woman and her parents, the lump in her throat growing as her tears came back. 

"Oh, dear, don't worry about that. You can be with me now, right? And guess what, you can use your powers as often as you'd like. How does that sound? Come be with your Auntie Handler. You'll be safe there." (y/n) hesitated, thinking over the offer of her supposed new aunt.

"What about Uncle Reggie? He visits every few weekends. Won't he miss me?" The girl asked, and The Handler's smile faltered. 

"You don't need to worry about Uncle Reggie anymore. Where I'm taking you, you can use your powers all you want without supervision, be loved by everyone for who you are and not what you can do." (y/n) swallowed, still second guessing. The Handler made a grabbing motion with her hands, gesturing for (y/n) to hurry, then (y/n) nodded, grabbing The Handler's outstretched hand. The blood on (y/n)'s hands stuck between their hands as The Handler led (y/n) to the door, grabbing the briefcase she had left there, then she changed the dials, pressed the buttons, then they were gone.