A/N: That's right, folks, the description did not lie; this is an "AU sequel" to "Babysitter from Heaven". I guess that leaves some of you wondering what exactly an "AU sequel" means, at least in relation to this story. Well, this story is an "AU" because the ending of BfH is covered (at the beginning, naturally), but it's done from a different angle than that of its predecessor. It's a "sequel" because…well, it follows the "alternate ending" of this story, which mirrors the true ending established in BfH—so, it's a sequel in…spirit, I suppose.

If that didn't make any sense to you at all, then I don't blame you at all. The point is, you're gonna wanna brush up on "Babysitter from Heaven" before reading this. I mean, you don't have to, but I highly recommend that you do.

On another note, Chapter 1 will basically be covering that "alternate" twist by retreading the events of Chapter 9 of BfH from a different angle, so you won't be seeing anything truly different from that story until Chapter 2 of this story. This also means that, again, you'll want to know what BfH is all about before you read this chapter because although this is somewhat of a "recap" chapter, there will be story elements that will be glossed over.

Oh, and although I didn't make any explicit mention of the timeline in BfH, we'll just say that that story (and this story, by proxy) begins after "The Loudest Mission: Relative Chaos" takes place.

For the first time since the clock struck midnight, the swathes of heavy clouds finally dispersed, dematerializing into the atmosphere and allowing the radiance of the stars and moon to, at long last, peek through and illuminate the peaceful, slumbering neighborhoods of Royal Woods. By this hour, a quarter past one in the morning, very few were awake to appreciate the dazzling display that lit up the sky, along with the soothing hum of the gentles gusts of winds that swept through. It was the early dawn of a new day, and it was as if nature itself promised—with its peaceful lullaby—that those with aching hearts and troubled minds could be put at ease, for there were good times to come.

If Lori Loud had even an ounce of mettle, just one spark of indignation within her to bark at such a foolish line of thought with ridicule, she would've done so a hundred times over. But as she sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly up at the night sky through her bedside window, she could no such thing—the burden of being crushed underneath the massive weight of her guilt didn't allow her to sleep, much less entertain the idea of acting with such defiance. Defiance implied pride, something that was scarce within her.

How could she feel anything other than shame—self-loathing, even—after what she had just done? In one fell swoop, spurred by her insecurities, she had managed to ruin her entire family's night and run out a perfectly capable babysitter, someone who could've done well without an angry, spiteful she-beast getting up in her face and chewing her out for daring to commit the "sin" of proving that Lori Loud wasn't all that was cracked up to be.

She was sent to bed by her parents shortly afterwards, the promise of harsh discipline buzzing in her head all the while; that sickly feeling of foreboding from her upcoming punishment, however, fell by the wayside as another crushing wave of dread slammed into her, knocking her off her stride and aligning her vision towards what was really important:

Lincoln, in all his furious indignation, was absolutely right.

The fact that he was didn't quite have an effect on her until now, long after the immediate ramifications of her actions had sunk in—when she ran out of the house in tears, she was more focused on the fact that her only brother most likely hated her instead of grasping the real meaning behind his scorn.

But now? She could only submit to the truth, the fact of the matter that she denied aloud but knew in her heart to be true. She was jealous. She was afraid. She was paranoid. But most importantly, she was wrong. Poor Carol Pingrey had to pay the price for her insecurities, taking stripes upon her back just for doing her job and doing it better than Lori could ever do.

Her authority, something that she fell into being granted with because of her status as first-born, was all she had to measure up against her vastly superior siblings. Lily was the only one that Lori felt was the exception, but only because she was a baby. Unlike her, she had an excuse to be a blank slate.

But as for Lori herself? Against Lincoln's ingenious drawing and storytelling, Lynn's enviable athleticism, Luna's musical prowess, Luan's comedic proficiency, Lola's polished pageantry, Lana's useful fixing and plumbing, Lisa's prodigious genius, Lucy's mastery of creative writing, Leni's talent at clothes designing…compared all of that, she was nothing.

What did she have to her name? What could she reflect on with pride? What could she truly call her own? A first-place spelling bee trophy she won back in the third grade? A few honor roll certificates? The ability to play a half-decent game of golf? Overall, anything she could call a "talent" or an "achievement" was complimentary, almost obligatory; so, she could spell "oxymoron" better than most students her age at the time, get a few more A's than usual here and there, and not completely suck at a backswing. Big deal.

It had taken its toll over the years, her envy. It wasn't easy growing up, looking on as each successive sibling found their "it", that special something about them that made them shine brighter than she could ever hope to do. All she could do to bolster up her ill-gotten self-esteem was pushing other down, convincing herself and anyone who would listen that her family (namely her siblings) actually needed her, an inferior, half-baked product before the line of complete, talented "somebodies" took center stage and overshadowed her.

But her delusions and lies could only carry her for so long; all it took was one day, just one opportunity for her to possibly be dethroned from her seat upon high, to set her off and act in the most despicable, self-centered way imaginable. And the worst part was, what she had done yesterday was far from a first—why, if not for her and her pettiness, Leni would have her driver's license by now.

Carol was right to call her a monster, though she spoke more truth than she realized. She wasn't only a monster for hurting Lincoln and constantly glorifying herself at the expense of others…

She was a monster for fighting her destiny for so long. She had been dealt her hand at birth. Who was she to buck the system, doing so with the implication that the ends justified her horrid means? She had her entire childhood to come into her own; her need to get her siblings to need her, and her pursuit of such a need, was just a distraction to keep the bitter taste of failure out of her mouth.

And even now, now that she had decided to just come to terms with her inferiority, Lori lamented the fact that she still had the gall to be envious of them, as if her jealousy was justified in the face of all of her crimes.

But it wasn't. It never was. She was just a petty, worthless loser and when her anxious mind—heavy with regret— finally allowed her to rest, she didn't feel like she would forget that after a single night's sleep.

Lori supposed she was just a creature of habit, after all, a slave to her pathetic tendencies. Why else would she be here, sobbing her eyes out as her anguished, pitiful cries muffled into her pillow?

It wasn't as if Lynn was wrong; she was a freak. Not just for hurting Lincoln but for thinking, instinctually or otherwise, that she deserved to be pitied by making a show of her misery like this. Just like with Lincoln the night before, instead of owning up to her true self right there on the spot, she ran away and cried like a whiny toddler who couldn't have her way.

And if anything, she should've been grateful. Yes, Lincoln wasn't there to hear her apologize out of scorn, and Lynn wasn't too bothered about sparing her feelings, but at least they were the only two to show her contempt in such a way. A few of her siblings shot her harsh, cold stares while the others, to her surprise, actually looked like they were open to the idea of forgiveness.

So why, why did she have to be here again? She, once again, got a slap on the wrist compared to what she thought that true justice looked like. But no, she just had to sulk and moan because her stupid "widdle fweeings" got hurt, instead of counting her blessings that her family hadn't decided that they had had enough of her and…and…

"Lori?"

The sordid thought of…whatever Lori's brain was going to conjure up next, evaporated like smoke when a voice, her voice, called out to her from outside of her locked bedroom door.

"Lori, it's me."

Peeling her face off her pillow, Lori sniffed and rubbed at her eyes and cheeks, smearing off a slab of tears and runny makeup on the back of her hand. She gave a fierce glare at the door, hating just how inevitable this was.

Of course, it was her. It had always been her. Lori knew better then to completely count Leni out on matters of sound judgment, but it looked like she was still slow to realize that her big sister was a lost cause that wasn't worth her precious time.

"Please open the door." Her plea was somewhat faded this time, her insistence drowning in the desperate sadness her words were marinated in. "I wanna help you."

Lori promised herself that she would help, help by leaving her be and not waste her life away by dedicating herself to a patch job of broken feelings that weren't any better whole than they were in tatters.

And that required her, in another move that'd only amplify her guilt, to be a little unpleasant.

"Go away, Leni," Lori said, her voice wavering despite the forcefulness she tried to project.

"But I-"

"Now. I don't need to talk to anyone right now."

Lori could only imagine how hurt Leni must've looked on the other side of the door; her head was probably hanged in shame, the corner of her mouth twitching as her eyes began to well up. Her sullen response certainly helped make that visual more perceptible in her mind's eye.

"O-okay," Leni replied and Lori wouldn't allow herself to not be put off edge until she heard the shuffling of feet carrying off into the distance, followed by the few minutes of silence to ensure that, yes, Leni was truly gone.

But it didn't take long for her longing for solitude to be intruded on again, this time with a hardy knock on the door and a voice that Lori knew better than to defy.

"Open up, Lori."

And open up, Lori did. It took her longer than she thought her father had patience for, what with how it felt like she was dragging lead by her legs as she slowly got up from her bed, but she found no sign of exasperation on her father's face.

A sinking feeling, one that she felt lodge down her throat with a hard gulp and hit rock bottom in the pit of her stomach, was given not to her father but to who he had with him—after everything that just happened, it was no surprise that having Lynn so close to her, especially with her hardened, defiant scowl on her face, would do the trick in making her feel like she just swallowed a bucketful of rocks.

"Lynn has something she wants to tell you," Dad said, giving Lynn a gentle nudge towards Lori.

All the while, their eyes never broke away until Lynn bowed her head slightly and squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost painful for Lori to look at—she clearly didn't want to go through with what their father had clearly coerced her into doing against her wishes.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you a freak, okay?" Her "okay" was carried with snippy bitterness, leaving no doubt that her apology was far from sincere. "I went too far."

Then, as if to gain her footing and take back her dignity, she suddenly looked up and shot Lori a withered glare, the ferocity in her eyes not nearly as fiery as they were when she decried her earlier. "I'm still mad at you for what you did to Lincoln, though."

"Lynn."

Lori's reply to her father's chastisement was instant, not a second thought spared. "It's alright, Dad," she said, doing her best to mollify both parties. "She should be allowed to hold onto that. I deserve it for ruining everything."

She must've done a bang-up job at looking like the victim (how predictably pathetic can you get?) because instead of her father simply leaving it at that, he instead looked upon her with pity.

"Lori, you didn-"

"Yes, I did." She wasn't about to have her father be webbed in her unintentional deception. "You'd literally be lying through your teeth if you said otherwise."

Her tone conveyed finality, no hope of being convinced with undeserved sympathy or glib sentiments. Her father must've sensed that as well, as he left the matter closed with a heavy sigh. Lori guessed that Lynn wasn't all that thankful for her defense, given how she seemed more interested in glaring at the floor. Her concentration was broken when her father placed a hand on her shoulder, coaxing her to looking up at him.

"Lynn?"

Lynn was quick to reply. "Yeah?"

"I want to speak with Lori alone."

He jerked his head towards the hallway, indicating the haste in which he wanted Lynn to "amscray". It wasn't as if she needed a nudge in the right direction, Lori surmised. She didn't need to read Lynn like a book to know that she thought she was better off being anywhere but here, saying words that she didn't really mean. Sure enough, right before Lynn walked away, she looked over her shoulder to give Lori a dirty look before she shuffled into her room.

Just like the night before, Lori had a seat at the edge of her bed while her father had an arm around her shoulders as he sat next to her. She did her best to puff herself up, put on a show of respectable resolve in the face of her inner turmoil. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to look her father in the eye, her shame not allowing her to appreciate her father's loving gaze.

"Look, Lori, I get that you don't feel proud of yourself right now," Dad said, taking a short pause to decide his words, "but that doesn't mean that you have to beat yourself up for nothing. What's done is done; the best thing to do now is to learn from your mistakes."

She knew what he meant, but he didn't know what her definition of "learning" was; last night wasn't the only time where she considered her bland uselessness in the family after her selfish, heedless pursuits cost her family a hefty price to pay. Unlike before, though, now it…it really stuck with her.

"I have learned, Dad," Lori said, watching the clouds slowly drag across the light blue expanse of the sky. "I most definitely learned."

Her words weren't reciprocated with prying, questioning about the underlying meaning behind her admittance. Instead, the arm around her shoulders brought her closer, a hug that she could hardly feel.

"Good," Dad said. "But there's something else I want to get across to you. I, uh, hope you don't take it the wrong way."

Lori felt herself tense up from the ambiguity of his statement, though she couldn't understand why she'd need to.

"Rita and I are…a bit concerned," Dad said. "Truth be told, we were more worried than angry with what you did yesterday, so much so that once you went to bed yesterday, we both did a little talking…"

He scooted back and turned Lori's head towards him, wanting his daughter to give him her undivided attention.

"And we think it'd be best if you went to go see a therapist. It's not like we think you're crazy or anything; we just thought that you'd like to talk to someone about what made you so uptight and…well, different last night."

Ah. Now Lori knew why her father had approached her with this so delicately, prefacing his statement by telling her that she hoped that she "wouldn't take it the wrong way". With therapy came a stigma, the idea that the person taking it was helpless…weak, even. Truthfully, long ago, Lori had considered going to some kind of counselor or therapist, but she rendered those thoughts as foolish flights of fancy.

What could positive thinking and medication possible fix? Everything that Lincoln, Carol, and Lynn had said about her was true; she had her whole life to literally see that for herself. How was an overpriced treatment plan supposed to change who she was? She supposed she could be less jealous and remorseful about getting the short end of the stick at birth, but that would essentially be the same thing as paying out of pocket for someone to teach her how to lie and manipulate her into finding contentment with her squalid lot in life.

And Lori was done with lying; she couldn't afford to and neither could her family. The truth was, they didn't need her because there was nothing about her that was commendable or special to lean on. Her firstborn privileges were only a matter of her being handed responsibilities that her siblings were more than capable of handling themselves.

But in her contemplation, Dad must've confused her deep-thinking for indecision, for he hastily added, "You don't have to give us an answer now, okay? Just think about it."

Lori said nothing. She just looked back at the window and continued to peer through, this time without the aim of fixating her gaze on anything in particular. Just then, her father spoke up.

"You know your mother and I love you, right?"

How he could feel that way was anyone's guess. But Lori didn't feel like she had any strength left to object, so she settled with a passive, little nod.

"And whether you believe it or not, Lynn and Lincoln love you too. Just give them time to settle down, and I guarantee you that they'll come around to forgiving you."

Again, she just outwardly accepted her father's words with a little nod. His next words, however, earned her attention as she willingly looked back at him:

"Now, uh, here comes the hard part about all of this. We're gonna have to talk about how you're going to be grounded for the rest of the school year."

Lori had to remember as she walked through her school's crowded hallways on Monday morning, weaving past students and the cacophony of energetic conversation, that she was doing this for Carol's sake but more importantly for Lincoln's sake.

Everything about her plan of action as stupid; there was no way that Carol wanted to see her, let alone start off her school day by talking to her before they had to go to first period. The last look she saw on Carol's face before she ran away in shame was disgust. She was well acquainted with that look lately, given how Lincoln hadn't been pulling any punches with her lately—it was if he made it his mission to show her, whenever she would try to approach him, that she was out of his good graces in the worst way.

'Can't blame him, either,' Lori decided in her head without considering lenience for her own sake.

Her tentative steps led her to where she felt she needed to be; it was a good thing that Carol had her back turned to her, her focus spent on fiddling about with the innards of her locker, or else she probably would've sprinted off like a frightened gazelle upon seeing Lori approach her. Her lack of "eyes in the back of her head" gave Lori the courage to venture closer, stopping when she was about a foot away from her.

She needed to act fast now; there was no telling when the bell would ring and they'd have to go their separate ways.

"H-hey, Carol."

The greeting, though barely spoken above the volume of a timid whisper, was evidently potent enough to paralyze Carol on the spot.

Well, not entirely; she could see her shoulders tensing underneath her blouse and her knuckles on her right hand, the hand holding the locker's door, turning white.

"Uh…Car-"

"What do you want, Lori?"

Her sour tone pierced through her belly, her body overwhelmed with waves of nausea. Still, she stood her ground on her wobbly legs.

"Can…we talk?"

Carol's reply was just as scathing as the last was. "What for?"

"It's just that…I-I have something important to say."

In one swift motion, one that made Lori flinch back in surprise, Carol pivoted around—her expression was almost tailor made to make Lori feel smaller than she already was.

"What, you didn't get enough licks in?" she said, her voice taunting despite the harshness it carried. "Still got a few more names you wanna call me?"

Lori shook her head, taking her rebuking in stride. "I'm not here to chew you out, Carol. I'm done with that."

But Carol didn't seem impressed, at least not enough to not continue. "No? That's not it, huh? Well, maybe you wanna take the opportunity to wring my neck with your bare hands; you clearly wanted to do that, didn't you?"

Against her better instincts, Lori took a step forward, as if she wanted the sincerity of her wishes for no harm to be seen better from a different angle.

"No, Carol, it's not like that," Lori said with exertion that bordered on authoritative.

"Then what i-"

"I'm sorry!"

Her outburst did the trick in startling Carol, as well as a few other students as they walked by. Lori could feel their eyes glued to them, watching intently to see how the situation would carry on and perhaps finding humor at the misfortune that they could sense—surely, it must've been quite a sight to see a "queen bee" like her so meek and downtrodden.

"I'm…sorry," Lori said, despite feeling ill at ease with all the attention she was getting. "For everything. I'm sorry for not trusting you. I'm sorry for saying all those nasty things about you. I'm sorry for wanting to hurt you. I'm just really, really sorry. Everything I've ever thought about you was wrong, the way I treated you was way out of line, and I shouldn't have made your job difficult because I was jealous you were doing it better than I've done in my entire life."

Even after all of that, Lori couldn't imagine that Carol was moved to act in a way that gave her pardon, which is why she continued with, "And you don't have to worry; I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't deserve it."

Out of everything that was said, that got Carol to finally speak her mind on the matter.

"That's the smartest thing you've ever said to me," she said, folding her arms as Lori winced from that remark. "Is that it, then? That's all you wanted to say?"

Lori didn't need a cue card to know that Carol was running out of patience, and she rushed out her final bid for attention.

"No. It's not," Lori assured. "You and Lincoln have something special; please don't let what I did to the both of you ruin that. He really misses you, Carol. He hasn't spoken to me since Friday, but I know he wants to see you again. So, if you…"

She shrunk away and held the back of her neck with hand, feeling a deep sense of shame in what she was about to ask—despite her feeling it was for the best, she had to carry the fact that she was asking for Carol to step out of her comfort zone by having anything to do with her, even if it would be in a remote sense.

"Well, if you wanna come over and hang out with him, I really think he'd-"

"No."

Lori balked, almost petrified by what her ears had heard. She knew she messed up, but to have done it…this badly, to the point where Carol thought that her newfound bond with Lincoln wasn't worth it?

Her pounded against her chest painfully as her throat constricted, allowing just enough air to pass through to keep her alive but not enough to steady her racing nerves.

'No…n-no, she can't!'

"No, Lori," Carol affirmed, as if she could detect Lori's urge to question her. "I'm not going anywhere near Lincoln as long as you're around. Do you really expect me to trust you after the way you flew off the handle? You hurt Lincoln just because I was hanging around him."

'You can't! PLEASE!'

Lori could only wilt like a dried flower, the sting of tears plunging into her eyes. "But…b-but-"

She was cut off with the harsh sound of her locker slamming shut as Carol turned around to do so.

"I'm not risking it, Lori. I'm protecting him and myself by staying far, far away. I want nothing to do with him, and I especially don't want anything to do with you. So, if that's all you wanted to say to me, you can be on your way. We're done here."

Carol didn't get very far; it took all but two small steps for Lori to rush forward and latch her hand around her shoulder.

"Don't walk out on him, Carol!" she begged, rivulets of tears dripping down her face, along with a runny stream of mucus from her left nostril. "Please don't do this!"

Carol glowered icily and yanked the binding appendage off. "We're done, Lori!" she shouted.

Without sparing her another glance, Carol stormed off, leaving Lori behind to sink to her knees and wail. No one, who bothered to give her more than five seconds of their attention before going about their business, came to her aid...

Not that she would've felt like their pity wouldn't be wasted on her, anyway.