Alex and Dean continued sitting on the old pier, slowly sipping whiskey straight from the glasses and talking about everything under the sun — from old hunting stories and the dumbest moments of their lives to completely meaningless little things that, in moments like these, somehow felt more important than anything else. This had long become their ritual, something familiar and comforting.

Every time Dean started slipping into another round of emotional burnout — when the world once again brutally reminded him that he wasn’t an all-powerful savior, just a man who could only watch as everything fell apart — Alex would simply grab him by the scruff of the neck, drag him away from the bunker, away from maps, books, and endless searches for solutions, and force him to drink, talk, and stay silent all at once.

No lectures, no fake “everything’s going to be okay,” no attempts to rewrite what had already happened and couldn’t be changed. Just two men, a good bottle of aged whiskey, and a night that wasn’t in any hurry to end, giving him at least a chance to exhale some of the accumulated weight.

This time the trigger had been the trip to the past — right in the middle of World War II, aboard the submarine USS Bluefin.

Dean had seen with his own eyes people he couldn’t save. Not because he lacked strength, weapons, courage, or cunning. But because their fate had already been written long before he appeared on board as an accidental traveler from the future.

He could only stand beside them, listen to their conversations, their laughter through fear, their last jokes, their last letters home, their last cigarettes before battle — and know with horrifying certainty that in a few hours they would all be dead.

The Hand of God, which they had stolen from the past with such difficulty, turned out to be single-use. Another piece of hope that crumbled to dust right before his eyes, leaving only the bitter aftertaste of defeat. And that hit Dean harder than any physical wound, demon, or loss of a loved one.

But time passed. The alcohol slowly but surely did its job — softening the sharp edges of the pain, dulling the memories, returning color to a world that had turned black-and-white for a few hours.

Dean began to come back to himself, gradually returning to his old, familiar self: sarcastic, stubborn, sharp-tongued hunter who knew how to hide any pain behind a crooked smirk and dark humor.

Alex saw it — in the way Dean’s shoulders straightened, in how the familiar smirk appeared more often, in how he started slipping his usual barbs back into the conversation. Alex didn’t rush him. He knew Dean needed exactly this — time, silence, and a few swallows of good whiskey to get back on his feet and keep moving forward.

They sat on the pier until it was completely dark — the sky turned thick black, studded with stars, while the water below quietly lapped against the pilings, reflecting the faint light of a distant lantern.

Around them already lay empty whiskey bottles, crumpled paper bags from the food Alex had brought from some other city — Dean had gotten hungry, and Alex could teleport anywhere in a second and return with hot meat, french fries, onion rings, and even fresh beer in frosted bottles.

By now Dean was thoroughly, hopelessly drunk — his tongue was slurring, his movements loose and slightly clumsy, his eyes shining brighter than usual, and a relaxed, slightly goofy smile had appeared on his face, the kind that only showed up after the fifth or sixth bottle.

“Okay, Dean. Time to head back to the bunker,” Alex said, laying a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder and giving him a light shake so he wouldn’t fall asleep right on the boards.

“No damn teleportation. Not unless you want me to puke all over your boots,” Dean muttered, pushing Alex’s hand away with exaggerated offense and nearly losing his balance in the process.

“Then let me help you sober up. It’ll be faster,” Alex said, shaking his head slightly as he looked at the drunk Dean.

“That’s sacrilege — sobering up from whiskey this good. And anyway — I’ll walk home myself. No need to babysit me. I’m a grown man. What, you think I can’t find my way without you? I’ve managed before. I’ll manage now,” Dean declared with such confidence, as if he were stone-cold sober, and resolutely headed toward the bunker, swaying and trying to keep his back straight.

Alex watched Dean’s retreating back — he walked with a slight stagger, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, radiating maximum independence with every inch of his body. Smiling faintly, Alex pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a lighter, and slowly followed. Catching up to Dean, he simply walked beside him, smoking silently and looking ahead at the road.

Dean noticed it out of the corner of his eye and gave a small smile — just the corner of his mouth, almost imperceptible, but genuine. In Dean’s head, thoughts swirled about their conversation on the pier. Once again Alex had pulled him out of that darkness he used to fight alone — for years, decades, and it happened far too often, always alone.

Dean even thought: if Alex had appeared earlier — before the Mark of Cain, before all those years in Hell, before losing everyone he loved, before he himself became part of that darkness — maybe a lot of things would have gone differently.

But he quickly pushed the thought away. The past stays in the past. It can’t be changed. Alex himself had said it more than once: fate always finds a way to put everything back on track. They can only delay the inevitable ending a little — but never cancel it.

Because of all the alcohol, Dean’s mind was slightly foggy, and completely wild, drunken ideas began surfacing in his head. What if they didn’t kill Amara? What if they tried to reconcile her with her brother? Or at least make sure she didn’t destroy the whole world?

Dean understood these were just drunken fantasies, alcohol-fueled dreams that would seem stupid and naive by morning. An impossible task. Amara was currently roaming the world searching for her brother, who kept hiding behind illusions, manipulations, and endless games of god. And she wasn’t the type who could be convinced with words, kindness, or even force.

Alex walked beside him and saw how Dean’s expression changed — now thoughtful, now slightly lost, now with a faint smile, now with a shadow of pain in his eyes. It wasn’t hard for him to guess what his friend was thinking.

Alex wanted to lay it all out — put the cards on the table, explain his plan to the end. But it was still too early. Otherwise all his plans would go to hell.

He wanted Chuck to crawl out of his hole himself. Chuck considered himself the main character of his own story — the very one he had started writing. And the main character always appears in the finale to “save everyone,” then pulls the switcheroo to reveal his true nature — plunging everyone into despair and proving their struggle was futile from the very beginning.

Alex knew beings like that too well. They loved playing with those weaker than them. And Chuck sincerely believed no one in this entire universe could pose a real threat to him.

Alex and Dean reached the bunker in silence. Both were lost in their own thoughts, and words felt unnecessary — they would only shatter the fragile quiet that both of them needed right now. As they approached, Dean was completely drunk — his legs tangled, he barely moved them, leaning more and more heavily on Alex.

Alex silently hooked an arm under him and helped him inside. Dean stumbled across the threshold, still trying to look independent even though he was practically hanging off his friend.

The noise brought out Sam and the girls who had been waiting for their return the whole time. Seeing his brother’s condition, Sam sighed heavily, shook his head with a tired smile, and silently went to bed — he was too exhausted from the day to even comment.

Alex understood: as usual, he’d have to drag Dean to bed himself. Supporting his friend by the waist, he got him to his room, laid him down, and covered him with a blanket. Dean mumbled something incoherent — something that sounded vaguely like “thanks” — and passed out almost immediately, face buried in the pillow.

Alex returned to his room with the girls. They talked quietly before bed — softly, without excess emotion, just to feel that everyone was together and everything was okay. Then Alex lay down, feeling a pleasant tiredness in his body and a slight relief in his soul.

A whole week had passed since the trip to the past. The very next day Dean pulled himself together — he survived it, burned through it, returned to his usual rhythm.

They temporarily shelved the search for another weapon against Amara. But Sam, as always, couldn’t stop. He kept digging through old books and archives, hoping to find even a hint of another Hand of God or something equivalent — even if it meant going back to the past again.

Dean tried a couple of times to make his brother take a break, rest, distract himself. But everything Sam said and did was radically different from before. He became quieter, more focused, almost obsessed. Dean saw it — and stayed silent, understanding that right now nothing could stop his brother. Meanwhile, Alex spent those days doing something else: searching for fragments of Amara’s power scattered across the world. The girls kept him company in this task.

Out of all the supposed locations they visited, they managed to find only two fragments — and even those could be called pure luck, a fortunate coincidence.

Alex visited the abandoned cursed psychiatric hospital Gonjiam in Korea — accompanied by Wednesday and Alessa. Wednesday herself immediately called it “an excellent date.” Alessa didn’t mind either — such places didn’t scare her at all; on the contrary, they interested her with their grim history and atmosphere.

The same went for Wednesday — she saw the local ghosts only as material for her future book, a cold and dispassionate source of inspiration. During the visit to the hospital, Alex had to chase away an overly persistent group of students who decided to do a live stream in the cursed place to gain popularity and money.

The teenagers, as usual, refused to listen. Then Wednesday stepped in — in her signature style she scared them so badly they ran away, leaving even their equipment behind.

Thanks to that, Alex was able to work calmly and search for the reason the ghosts were trapped there. As expected, the reason turned out to be another fragment of Amara’s power — once again disguised as a trinket, a cheap piece of jewelry once given to the hospital director.

Alex also visited a supposed cursed forest with Enid and Alice — due to the large number of missing travelers. In reality, an ancient cult was responsible for the disappearances in that forest.

The encounter with the cult eventually led to meeting the thing they worshipped — an ancient creature resembling a deer assembled from human bodies. It started as a light walk through the forest, which Enid and Alice genuinely enjoyed — they considered it a real nature date.

In the end it turned into running through the forest, destroying the cultists, and killing the deity the fanatics worshipped. When it was all over, Enid once again complained that every time she ended up in situations like this, her clothes got covered in blood, dirt, and something even worse, and she was already tired of even trying to wash it out.

Alice joined the complaints — all her clothes were custom-made and cost a fortune. All Alex could do in that situation was take the girls shopping and accompany them while they picked out new outfits, silently paying and nodding in the right places.

The job with Lucina and Samantha turned out to be ordinary hunter work — a quick investigation that ultimately led them to a pawn shop run by a warlock who supposedly granted his customers’ wishes by casting spells on objects.

A man who wanted to learn to play piano to impress his girlfriend ended up with cursed sheet music — after playing it, everyone who heard the melody lost their hearing. In the end, not only the man but his entire family went deaf.

A female collector who loved gathering old rare dolls brought home a Chucky-like doll — it loudly cursed and tried to kill everyone. Samantha simply threw it into the fireplace after hearing another stream of insults.

While Alex and Samantha were busy confiscating and sealing all the cursed objects, Lucina had to deal with the warlock himself — who, as it turned out, drew power from yet another fragment of Amara.

When it was all over, the trunk of Alex’s Impala was completely stuffed with cursed items he decided to dump in the Red City — where such artifacts definitely couldn’t harm ordinary people.

And so an entire week passed — long, packed, exhausting. Everyone wanted to simply rest, but no one had the slightest chance of a normal break — not even Dean and Sam, who had also taken on a small job involving a vampire nest.

Upon returning to the bunker, Dean and Sam explained that they had dealt with strange vampires — ones that didn’t die after decapitation, and dead man’s blood had no effect on them.

Hearing this, Alex immediately understood what was going on, and his suspicions were confirmed: everyone bitten by those vampires eventually turned into ghouls.

When Dean and Sam detailed the creatures they’d faced, Alex explained what they were and why they had appeared. Learning all the information, Dean and Sam quickly understood why they’d had to deal with such strange vampires.

After that, Alex handed Dean the found fragments of Amara’s power — so he could absorb them using Cain’s blade. And that was how the long, eventful week ended.

It was the middle of an ordinary day in the bunker. Alex and Dean were sitting in the library. Alex was reading a book while Alessa sat on his lap, chatting on the phone with her sisters — Alex had been forced to give Alessa her own phone at the insistent request of the four gremlins who literally wouldn’t leave him alone.

Dean sat nearby, sipping coffee and reading news on his laptop. The girls were busy with their own things. Alex continued reading, calmly turning a page in his book, when he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps. Looking up, he saw Sam — who had finally decided to get some sleep. Sam held a mug of coffee, rubbing his neck — apparently he’d slept in an awkward position.

“Guys, have you seen…” Sam began, rubbing his neck and wincing from the pain.

Without taking his eyes off the laptop screen, Dean tossed a pack of painkillers at Sam. Sam caught it mid-air, immediately took a few pills to get rid of the neck and headache pain, and washed them down with a gulp of coffee.

Sighing heavily, Sam sat down at the table, rubbing his face to fully wake up. Rubbing his eyes, Sam noticed Dean staring at his laptop screen without looking away and thought his brother had decided to watch something he shouldn’t be watching in a place like this.

“What are you watching?” Sam asked, looking at Dean.

“Sam, remember the Incredible Wrestling?” Dean asked in return, turning to Sam.

“Yeah, I remember. Wrestling on wheels — Dad took us there sometimes when we were kids,” Sam said, nodding with a faint nostalgic smile.

“This morning I came across an obituary. Larry the Hangman died,” Dean said, turning the laptop toward Sam.

“No way. Isn’t that the one…” Sam said in a surprised tone, raising his eyebrows.

“Yup, Dad’s favorite. Every time the noose appeared, Dad would jump up. Not often our old man looked that happy,” Dean said, taking a sip of coffee and smirking at the memory.

“Yeah, I remember those days,” Sam said, nodding slightly and drifting into his own thoughts for a moment.

“We could make it to the funeral. Alex, what do you think — want to take a ride, watch some wrestling, and pay respects while we’re at it?” Dean said, looking at Alex and Sam.

“Guys, I don’t want to ruin your plans. But right now things are really bad. And they’re only getting worse,” Sam said, looking at Alex and Dean with tired seriousness.

“Thanks for the reminder, Sam. As if we didn’t know. We’ve been running around from one place to another all week. And our so-called rest never even started because of all the work that piled up. And fortunately, I’ve got plans for these days,” Alex said with a light smile.

“What plans?..” Dean began, staring at Alex with curiosity.

“I’m ready. Let’s go,” a familiar cold voice sounded from behind.

Dean and Sam turned their heads and saw Wednesday — she was dressed in her usual black dress, and beside her stood a black suitcase with things. Alex gave a faint smile and closed his book. Standing up from the table, Alex picked up Alessa and walked over to Wednesday, who looked like she had no intention of wasting time. Alex knew what this was about, so he smiled faintly, standing beside Wednesday, who looked back at him with her black eyes.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, noticing that Alessa was also dressed in similar clothing. And both of them immediately wondered: where were they going at a time like this, and why had Wednesday brought a suitcase with things?

“Where are you off to?” Sam asked, slightly raising an eyebrow.

“We’re going to visit the Addams family. The other girls have already left, by the way. Alice wanted to visit her family in Forks, and Lucina, Samantha, and Enid went with her. And you two should get out too instead of sitting in the bunker. Go to the wrestler’s funeral and reminisce about old times,” Alex said, picking up Wednesday’s suitcase.

Hearing the word “funeral,” Wednesday slightly raised an eyebrow but decided her priorities lay elsewhere, and she could still attend a funeral later. She also had no desire to attend the funeral of some wrestler. Waving goodbye, Alex left the bunker with Wednesday and Alessa, leaving Sam and Dean behind.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, realizing how quiet the bunker had become, and understood why. Dean gave a faint smirk and pulled out the Impala keys, showing they should take a trip. Sam just sighed and nodded, agreeing with his brother’s decision — since everyone had scattered, they could take a few days off.

Meanwhile, Alex, Wednesday, and Alessa left the bunker in Alex’s Impala to drive to the airport. The reason for the car ride was Wednesday herself — she simply didn’t want to teleport and preferred to do things the usual way: fly on a plane. After reaching the airport, Alex stored his car in his inventory.

Entering the airport, Alex, Wednesday, and Alessa immediately drew attention with their grim black clothing. Even the woman handling ticket registration tried not to look at Alex and Wednesday. After finishing check-in, they headed to the waiting area.

“Did you leave a message for your parents on the crystal ball saying we’re coming to visit?” Alex asked, looking at Wednesday, who was already reading a book.

“No. I didn’t see any particular reason to report to them about what I plan to do,” Wednesday said without taking her eyes off the book.

“Or you just wanted to surprise them. And see their reaction when they see Alessa. That’s why you dressed Alessa in your old dress?” Alex said with a light smile, stroking Alessa’s hair.

“I don’t rule out that possibility. I simply want to see my parents’ faces when they see Alessa. I’m especially interested in my mother’s reaction. So I just told them we’d stop by. No details,” Wednesday said, glancing at Alex.

“I think they’ll be delighted for their little storm cloud. Won’t they, my dear Wednesday?” Alex said, leaning slightly toward her.

Wednesday didn’t answer Alex’s words and simply looked into his eyes with her black ones when he entered her personal space. She decided to leave Alex without a reply and simply kissed him on the lips, then, with a familiar gesture, wiped the black lipstick from his lips and returned to her book.

Seeing this, Alex smiled faintly and looked at Alessa, who was watching videos on her phone of her sisters’ adventures. Wednesday continued reading her book, and she had no intention of admitting that becoming a mother to Alessa had become something very engaging for her.

Wednesday saw her younger self in Alessa — the one society rejected because she wasn’t like everyone else — and so Wednesday intended to pass on everything she knew to Alessa. But unlike her own parents, Wednesday knew how to do it properly. Wednesday gradually transmitted her knowledge to Alessa, as if shaping a clay sculpture.

Thinking about what Alessa might become in the future, Wednesday couldn’t hold back her grim smile, which frightened the child sitting in front of them. Hearing the child cry, Alex looked up and saw the crying toddler, immediately glancing at Wednesday, who was enjoying the sound of the child’s crying.

Alessa also looked up and frowned for a moment at the irritating noise, then turned her black eyes toward the crying child — causing him to cry even harder. Seeing all this, Alex massaged the bridge of his nose, fully aware that this would happen quite often in the future.

When the announcement for their flight sounded, Alex lifted Alessa into his arms, and together with Wednesday they boarded the plane. Taking their seats, Alex placed Alessa by the window — after all, this was her first experience flying on a plane. Wednesday sat in the middle, while Alex took the aisle seat.

And the whole time Alex wondered: why hadn’t they used a private jet and instead chosen a commercial flight? And when the plane took off, Alessa was slightly surprised by how the takeoff felt.

“Alessa, what do you think? This is your first plane flight,” Alex asked, stretching slightly.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t look reliable,” Alessa said, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“Flying on airplanes is a modern ritual of collective self-deception. You voluntarily surrender yourselves to a metal coffin with wings, where the air is thin and oxygen is a privilege. Hundreds of bodies pressed together, breathing the same recycled horror. Children cry, adults snore, and flight attendants smile as if this isn’t the prelude to disaster,” Wednesday said calmly, placing her book on the tray table.

The moment Wednesday spoke those words, everyone in the plane’s cabin fell silent and turned toward them. Even the flight attendant distributing drinks to other passengers froze for a moment, her perpetual smile becoming strained.

Wednesday’s words caused such a strong reaction among the passengers that everyone felt fear. And it was all tied to the appearance of Alex, Wednesday, and Alessa, dressed entirely in black.

“Darling, that’s not what I meant. I was talking about the sensation itself. I still think flying on planes is pretty safe,” Alex said, trying not to laugh.

“Safe? Another illusion of control. They confiscate scissors and liquids over 100 ml, but leave you with the belief that thirty thousand feet in the air is a safe place. As if the absence of a blade in your carry-on will save you when a wing tears off or oxygen masks drop like a curtain before the final act,” Wednesday said, looking at Alex.

“Darling, maybe you should read your book to pass the boredom?” Alex said, clearly noticing the atmosphere in the plane’s cabin.

“Boredom? I fear the boredom that sets in when everyone around pretends it’s normal to sit in a tin can while someone in the cockpit decides whether we live or die. The only thing that makes flying tolerable is the thought that if it crashes, at least it will be beautiful,” Wednesday said, clearly indicating she had no intention of stopping.

At that moment Alex realized Wednesday was doing this on purpose — just to scare the plane’s passengers. And now everything fell into place: why Wednesday didn’t want to use simple teleportation to instantly arrive at the Addams family estate, why she refused a private jet and chose a commercial one. All because she simply wanted to frighten the other passengers.

And seeing the passengers’ faces pale so much they looked like walking corpses, and the flight attendant looking like this was the hardest flight of her life, Alex quickly understood: Wednesday had said all this after takeoff, not before, for maximum effect.

And Wednesday had succeeded perfectly — some passengers sat as if this were their last flight ever. And all Alex could do in this situation was ignore it, as if nothing had happened. Now even the flight attendant didn’t want to approach them, and when she did, her smile looked more like the face of someone about to cry at any moment.

Alessa nodded, memorizing all of Wednesday’s words, also considering flying on planes a questionable activity when faster methods existed. Wednesday herself had achieved what she wanted and opened her book to continue reading, resting her head on Alex’s shoulder.

The only upside was that the plane’s cabin became very quiet — so quiet that passengers didn’t even dare get up to use the bathroom. Alex closed his eyes to get some sleep during the flight. When the plane reached its destination, all the passengers began quickly leaving their seats — as if staying even on a landed plane could be dangerous.

Alex, holding Alessa in his arms and Wednesday by the hand, left the plane under the strained smiles of the flight attendants, who clearly wanted them out as quickly as possible. What pleased Alex was that at least Alessa had enjoyed the flight.

Leaving the airport, Alex, Wednesday, and Alessa stepped outside and immediately saw Lurch — he stood beside a black car with his usual grim expression, the kind that made everyone keep their distance.

“Hello, Lurch,” Wednesday said, handing him her suitcase.

“Hmm…” Lurch rasped, taking Wednesday’s suitcase.

“Thanks for coming to pick us up, Lurch,” Alex said with a light smile, looking at Lurch.

“Hmm…” Lurch rasped, giving a slight nod, and looked at Alessa.

Even in Lurch’s usually calm and dead eyes, a flicker of emotion appeared for a moment when he saw Alessa. Seeing Lurch’s reaction to Alessa, Alex smiled faintly and opened the car door, helping Wednesday and Alessa inside.

In the car, Alessa sat between Alex and Wednesday, thinking about what the Addams family home looked like. Wednesday sat calmly, hands folded in her lap, looking straight ahead. Alex relaxed against the backrest and closed his eyes.

Meanwhile, Thing crawled out of Wednesday’s backpack — because he’d had to stay inside it the whole time without a chance to escape. The drive to the Addams family estate took just over an hour — due to its remote location near a cemetery and swamp.

And as they approached the Addams house, the surrounding environment noticeably changed: rotten trees, light fog that seemed to have long been part of the place, and a very grim atmosphere. Alessa looked out the window and wasn’t surprised that the Addams family lived in such a dark place.

Soon the car pulled up to the old gates topped with the sign Beware of the Thing, which opened with a long creak. Alex smiled faintly — seeing it again.

Alessa looked out the car window and saw a tall, grim house in dark black tones, looking neglected, covered in moss, ivy, and cobwebs. The Addams family home looked as though no one had lived there for a very long time, yet at the same time the house felt quite alive in its own way.

The car parked right in front of the porch, where Gomez, Morticia, and of course Pugsley were already standing — he couldn’t understand why his sister had decided to come home. Wednesday stepped out of the car first.

“My little spiderling, I’m so glad you decided to visit us. And with your fiancé, no less,” Gomez said with a smile, descending the steps.

“Wednesday, Alex, how were your adventures? I’d love to hear all about them,” Morticia said with a maternal smile, holding Gomez’s arm as she descended the steps.

“Parents. I have a surprise for you,” Wednesday said in her usual tone.

“And what surprise has our little snake prepared?” Gomez asked, smiling even wider.

“This is Alessa, our daughter,” Wednesday said, placing Alessa in front of her and resting her hands on the girl’s shoulders.

Hearing Wednesday’s words, Gomez and Morticia lowered their gazes and saw Alessa, who was an exact copy of Wednesday, including her cold black eyes. In that moment Gomez and Morticia experienced an enormous range of emotions at the sight. Pugsley froze in horror for a moment upon seeing Alessa, who was an exact copy of his sister. Seeing the surprise on her parents’ faces, Wednesday gave a faint smile.

Alessa looked at Gomez and Morticia with interest. For some reason she had expected her mother Wednesday’s parents to look exactly like this. But Alessa quickly realized that these were now sort of her grandmother and grandfather.

“Wednesday, querida! You’ve given us a granddaughter? This is better than torture in the basement! Better than execution by electric chair! This… this is poetry of horror! We must celebrate this,” Gomez said in an ecstatic tone, beginning to dance in place.

Unlike Gomez’s reaction, Morticia was more restrained. She approached Alessa and looked into her eyes.

Morticia, being a very perceptive woman who had seen much darkness in the world and in people yet still saw the world in all its colors — unlike her daughter — crouched slightly in front of Alessa with a kind smile and took her hand. Morticia saw the thick darkness in Alessa’s eyes and all her grievances against the world.

Morticia understood that Alessa wasn’t Alex and Wednesday’s biological child — that was impossible — but that didn’t change her attitude toward Alessa, since her daughter had accepted the girl as her own. Continuing to smile, Morticia stroked Alessa’s hair — she was a mini-copy of her daughter — and looked at Wednesday herself.

“Don’t fear motherhood, my dark orchid. It’s simply another way to inflict pain… on the world and on yourself. You will be a magnificent mother — cold, strict, perfect,” Morticia said with a maternal smile.

“Ah, Cara mia! Where’s my sword? Where’s the champagne laced with poison? We must celebrate the new addition to our family. This is our best day since Pugsley’s birth!” Gomez said, continuing to smile ecstatically.

“Mon chéri, all that can wait. We must show our granddaughter the house. Not every day such an event occurs. I immediately understood our little raven wouldn’t return home for no reason once her black wings had grown strong and she flew away,” Morticia said, placing her palm on her husband’s cheek.

“Cara bella, this is the best worst day of my life. Nothing brings me greater suffering than another dark soul in our family,” Gomez said, wrapping his arm around Morticia’s waist.

“Mon amour…” Morticia said, leaning closer to Gomez.

Alex and Wednesday already knew where this was going and quickly decided to take Alessa away — she shouldn’t see something like this and traumatize herself further. Alex quickly covered Alessa’s eyes with his hand and lifted her into his arms.

Alex and Wednesday decided to leave Gomez and Morticia in their grim romantic world created just for the two of them. Holding Alessa in his arms, Alex passed by Pugsley, who stood frozen like a statue, as if his world had been turned upside down.

Wednesday gave her brother a contemptuous look and continued walking, holding Alex’s arm. But Alessa was the most surprised by everything happening. She simply didn’t know that expressions of love in the Addams family were quite dark and peculiar.

By this time Alex and Wednesday had already gone up to the room where Wednesday used to live.

Entering Wednesday’s room — nothing had changed since the last time: beheaded dolls, a guillotine, and a full set of torture instruments, including a half-assembled electric chair with tools lying beside it, and one that Pugsley frequently ended up on.

“Darling, what do you think of your parents’ reaction?” Alex asked, sitting on the bed.

“Hmm… I would say — predictable. Even expected. Nothing surprising here. I was more expecting them to react in a more unpredictable way. As always, expectations disappoint,” Wednesday said, opening her suitcase with things.

“You’re hard to please, my love. And what do you think, Alessa, of your grandparents?” Alex said with a light smile and then looked at Alessa.

“I don’t understand. It was strange,” Alessa said, slightly shaking her head from side to side.

“That’s part of your mom Wednesday’s family. Despite the things they say, they mean something completely different. You could say they’re very happy you’re here. Just in their own style. And most importantly, little one — try not to pay attention to how they show love,” Alex said, stroking Alessa’s hair.

“They do it very often. I still have psychological trauma from childhood because of their tactless behavior,” Wednesday said in a cold tone.

“Too bad Uncle Fester isn’t here. I’d love to see his reaction,” Alex said, chuckling lightly.

“He got caught again and locked up in a psychiatric hospital,” Wednesday said, pulling a black dress from her suitcase.

“When did they catch him? It hasn’t been that long since we last saw him. He was supposed to lie low,” Alex said in a surprised tone.

“He got caught trying to rob a bank again. He fell for something stupid. What an amateur — caught on another dumb mistake. He sent a letter asking to send him a hacksaw and a set of lockpicks. I think he’s already escaped. Or maybe not yet. Let this be a lesson to him,” Wednesday said, beginning to change into different clothes.

“Well… For Uncle Fester, places like that are basically five-star hotels. He’ll have a little fun, torment the orderlies, and then escape. Or they’ll throw him in solitary — from which he’ll escape anyway,” Alex said, watching Wednesday change.

Wednesday gave a slight nod to Alex’s words — she knew her uncle Fester very well. Wednesday took off the dress she had arrived in, leaving herself in black underwear.

Alex prudently covered Alessa’s eyes, while continuing to watch Wednesday change. Changing, Wednesday looked at Alex with her cold black eyes and slightly narrowed them.

Remaining in her underwear, Wednesday approached Alex and leaned closer to him. Alex smiled faintly, pulling Wednesday toward him with one hand while keeping the other over Alessa’s eyes.

“Aren’t you afraid of losing your eyes?” Wednesday asked, looking into Alex’s eyes.

“My love, I’ve already seen everything. You’re as beautiful as ever. You’re like a black rose with poisonous thorns. I could admire you forever,” Alex said, continuing to hold Wednesday by the waist.

Wednesday looked into Alex’s eyes and nodded, receiving the answer she wanted. She kissed him on the lips and stood up from his lap to change into another dress. Alex smiled faintly — they had only just arrived, and he was already thinking of staying a couple of days at the Addams family home.

To be continued…

(As I promised, there’ll be a bit of everyday life before the rest of the story begins. I think we’ll spend a little time at the Addams family home, and a few other events. And then everything else. And that’s about it, I think. If I’ve forgotten something, I’ve forgotten it.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep