Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dolores Madrigal heard everything in the town.

It was common knowledge, even though it often didn’t stop the town people from doing dumb things. She had lost count of how many times she had stopped the kids from bullying someone, and she took great pleasure in ratting out the cheaters in the town. Of course, there was also things that she kept to herself that she heard, such as who had a crush on who or which child got in trouble with their parents.

She heard everything.

At least, that was what she always told herself. That was what everyone said.

The truth was different. Dolores Madrigal could hear everything in the town, but that didn’t mean she always did. She missed a lot when she slept, obviously, especially since her room was sound-proof. And while their town was small, there was still enough people that she couldn’t listen to them all at the same time. She had long since mastered the art of tuning people out, settling for only really listening to the town when it was time for her to go out and help. Other times, she blocked them out, her ears unconsciously focusing on the voices of her family.

And even then, her brain tended to focus on the voice closest to her. It was instinct.

There were things that broke through, though. She always heard a call for help, the sound an alarm in her ear to call for Luisa or Isabela or Tia Julieta. Her name, also, was also one of those instinctive alarms that dragged her hearing into a conversation even if it was all the way across town.

But when it came down to it, she missed a lot more than she would like to admit.

Failure had never been an option in the Madrigal family, after all.

This was why, when Bruno sought her out only a month after their miracle was restored, she was quick to deny it.

“Dolores,” he said, approaching her in the halls one morning. He looked paler than usual, dark bags under his eyes as he nervously fiddled with his hair, “Have you heard anybody in town talking about Camilo lately?”

She paused in her steps, cocking her head as she did a quick, cursory listen to the town for her brother’s name. When she heard nothing, she shook her head.

“No, no one’s talking about him.”

“Well, not now,” Bruno emphasized. He sounded worried, more worried than normal, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “But recently.”

“Sure, people talk about us all the time,” she said with a shrug. She often heard the town people talking about Camilo, usually about how kind he was or how good he was with the children or wondering if he could help them with someone. She would hear it as she walked through town, just like she heard the comments about Isabela and Luisa and Pepa and Julieta and Antonio.

Bruno hummed lightly in acknowledgement at that. He knocked on the wall, muttering under his breath, before continuing.

“What about… older women,” he said, voice sounding a bit faded, hesitant, “Talking about Camilo. In… a not-so-good way.”

“What?” she blinked at that, brain taking a moment to put together exactly what her tio was saying. She furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head, “No, of course not. He’s only fifteen, Tio Bruno.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bruno said hastily, “That’s why I was- I had this vision, and I was worried, and well, I didn’t want to bring it up to Pepa, because she would get angry that I was having visions about her children, and your abuela and I are still on shaky terms, and Felix and I never really bonded, and I figured that you might know something because of your Gift, so-“

“No one’s talking about Camilo that way, Tio Bruno. I would know,” she cut him off, nose scrunched in disgust at the very thought. Sure, she had heard a few kids Camilo’s age make a few comments that she did her very best to ignore, but she would know if someone older was talking about him. That wasn’t something she would miss.

“Are you sure? Because-“

“I’m sure,” she insisted, “You must have read your vision wrong.”

Bruno blinked at that, seeming surprised at her response. He fiddled with his ruana, a frown etched onto his skin.

“Well, I don’t think- I mean, it was a spontaneous vision, and normally they only happen when something important is-“

“I would know if that was happening, Tio. I hear everything, remember?” she said, “I would have done something if I had heard that. Isabela got a few gross comments when she was younger, but I put a stop to it.”

By putting a stop to it, she meant telling Julieta and Pepa, who were quick to track down the man and give him a piece of their mind (and, in Pepa’s case, hit him with some lightning), insisting that Dolores, who was also underage at the time, stay away from the man.

But she was twenty-two now, and Camilo was her little brother. If she had heard a comment made about him by someone too old for him, she would act. She would put a stop to it herself.

She hadn’t heard anything, though. Bruno was probably just reading into something. Everything was fine.

Bruno chewed on his bottom lip. He knocked on the wall again, a nervous habit that Dolores had heard many times before, and hopped lightly on his feet. His eyes flicked down the hall, to Camilo’s door.

“Do you know where he is right now?”

She sighed, but fell silent, listening. After her parents, Camilo’s voice was the most recognizable to Dolores, so she was quickly able to pick it out of the crowd.

“He’s in the town, entertaining some of the children,” she said, before pausing as she listened a little closer, “Oh, he’s watching Susanna for Señora Clara while she’s cooking and-“

She stumbled, eyes widening as her eyes snapped up to Bruno’s, the sound of the woman’s voice echoing in her ears.

“You’re so good with children, Camilo. Handsome, too, and so funny. If I were a few years younger, I would snatch you up in a heartbeat. I bet you get plenty of girls your age, don’t you?”

She could hear her little brother laugh, but it was strained, uncomfortable. He hummed lightly in response to the woman’s comments before turning his attention back to the three-year-old Susanna, obviously trying to change the subject.

“Señora Clara?” Bruno asked, voice strained and eyes wide. It obviously wasn’t what he wanted to hear, and she suddenly knew that her Tio had not misinterpreted whatever the vision was.

And it had made him nervous, worried. Combining that with the comment she had just heard, she could easily put together what the man had seen.

She grasped her Tio’s hand, wasting no time as she took off at a run from Casita. Her attention was zeroed in on her little brother, listening carefully, trying to discern exactly what was going on.

“You really are handsome, when you’re yourself. You should stay yourself more often. I know I’ve told you this before, but it’s always a blessing to see those curls, and those beautiful brown eyes.”

“Thank you?” Camilo responded quietly, coming out more as a question than a statement, “Uh, are you finished cooking? I need to get going.”

Dolores’ grip on Bruno’s hand tightened. She sped up, fury mounting.

“You know, Ricardo won’t be home for a few hours, Camilo. No one would know if you stayed here until then. We could say that you were helping me with Susanna. Everyone knows how much you adore her.”

“I really should get going, Señora. I’ve got a lot to do.”

“Well, how about just a few minutes, then? You can show me what your Gift can do.”

“Señora, I’m fifteen. I should really just-“

“I don’t mind.”

Dolores’ stomach rolled with disgust and anger. Her eyes flashed. For not the first time in her life, she wished for a power like her mamí’s or Luisa’s or Isabela’s. Something more useful than enhanced hearing. Something that she could use to fight.

“Tio Bruno, did that vision of yours show me killing Señora Clara?” she asked as she stormed forward, dragging her Tio behind her.

“Well, no, it didn’t, but-“

“Well, I am.”

“Okay, I’m going to go now. I-“

Camilo cut off with a yelp of surprise.

“Can you back away, please?” Camilo whispered, voice strained.

Señora Clara’s house came into view, and Dolores did something she had not done she was five and got her gift.

She yelled.

“CAMILO!”

She sound sent sharp pain to her ears, but she paid it no mind. She released Bruno’s hand, focusing on running to the front door of the woman’s home. She reached it in only a few strides, bursting through, eyes narrowed in on her little brother.

Señora Clara had him backed up against a wall, one hand on his hip, the other on his shoulder. He was frozen, eyes snapped up to look at Dolores as if he had been caught doing something wrong. His skin was pale, and Dolores knew her brother well enough to catch the way his hands were trembling at his side.

“Get away from him!” she cried, soaring towards the two. She gripped the older woman’s arm, wrenching her away from Camilo, and quickly putting her body in between the two, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dolores? Oh, it’s not what you think,” Clara was quick to say. Her eyes were wide with fright, her hands flying up above her in surrender, “Camilo was just helping me with Susanna. Right, Camilo?”

“R-right,” Camilo said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Helping with a three-year-old doesn’t include being harassed by their thirty-year-old mother,” Dolores snapped, “Did you forget that I hear everything?”

Clara blinked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Or was it disbelief? Like she couldn’t believe Dolores had actually heard her. But that didn’t make any sense, because everyone in the town knew about Dolores’ gift. Clara knew about Dolores’ gift!

Bruno stumbled into the home, blinking at the scene in front of him. He scurried over, and Dolores took a step forward, watching as Clara took a step back to avoid her, and allowed for her Tio to take Camilo’s arm and pull him away from the scene.

“My brother if fifteen years old,” Dolores hissed, suddenly grateful for her height, which gave her several inches on the woman in front of her, “He’s here helping you, and you’re repaying him by harassing him, making disgusting comments even when he made it clear he was uncomfortable. And when I came in here, you had your hands on him!”

Clara shook her head, waving her hands in front of her.

“No, no, no. You’re mistaken. Camilo’s fine! We were just messing around.”

Dolores had never hit anyone before, so she surprised even herself when her fist suddenly flew out, striking the woman in the face.

“You don’t talk about my brother that way!” she hissed, “And you certainly don’t put your hands on him!”

Clara cried out, clutching her face and staring at Dolores with wide, fearful eyes. Dolores’ fist reared back again, fury radiating through her body.

“Dolores, stop!”

A hand grabbed her arm. She turned her head quickly, only to pause at the sight of Camilo, wide-eyed and pale. He hesitantly pointed to the side, and Dolores followed his finger to see little Susanna trembling behind a nearby chair, tears streaming down her face. The poor girl looked terrified.

She dropped her fist, feeling some of her anger leak away at the sight. Instead, she pointed her finger at the woman in front of her.

“If you so much as look Camilo’s way again, I’m sending Luisa,” she growled, “And I’m telling Señor Ricardo what you did.”

She spun around on her feet and grabbed her brother’s hand, pulling him out of the house. She wanted him away from Clara as soon as possible, out of her sight. Her heart was pounding, horrified thoughts racing through her mind about what could have happened to her hermano had Bruno not sought her out.

“Dolores, you didn’t… I’m sorry. I- She-“

“Don’t apologize, sobrino,” Bruno said, hurrying up behind them. Dolores, satisfied that they were far enough away from the woman, slowed her steps and turned around to face them.

Camilo seemed to have snapped out of his shock, and now his cheeks were red with shame.

“I know I should have left. She’s married, and she-“

“Camilo,” Dolores said, putting her hands on her brother’s shoulders, “None of that was your fault, hermano. You made it clear you wanted to leave.”

“I could have used my Gift. I just… I…”

“You froze,” Bruno said, smiling nervously at Camilo, “That’s not your fault. She was someone you trusted. You shouldn’t have had to use your Gift.”

Camilo looked away and sniffed. He furiously rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

“’Milo, has anything like this happened before?” Dolores asked hesitantly.

He didn’t answer for a moment, before shrugging.

“She always made comments,” he muttered, “I just ignored them. Figured if you hadn’t said anything, I was just overreacting.”

“I didn’t hear,” she whispered, shaking her head, “I didn’t hear. Lo siento, hermanito. I didn’t hear.”

Camilo seemed surprised by that, eyebrows furrowing, but he didn’t question it. Instead, he turned, wrapping his arms around her and burying his head in her shoulder.

“Not your fault,” he mumbled before shuddering lightly, “Please don’t tell mamí.”

Dolores briefly entertained the thought of Pepa’s lightning hitting Clara before pushing it away. Clara wasn’t important at the moment. Camilo was.

“She should know,” Bruno said, eyes wide, “I hate to think how she would react if she found out we didn’t tell her.”

That thought was scary. Nothing got between an angry Pepa and someone who had hurt her children, and if she found out that Dolores and Bruno knew that such a thing had happened to her son and didn’t tell her… she wouldn’t be happy.”

Camilo winced, obviously thinking the same thing. He sighed, looking dejected.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, before suddenly shifting. Dolores grimaced at the odd sensation, pulling out of the hug. She found herself looking at her papí for a moment before he shifted back into himself and continued, “But one of you two are telling her, and I’ll just… be in my room until she calms down.”

It was fair, she supposed. She wasn’t going to force him to tell their parents, not after what he had just been through, but they needed to know.

Dolores lifted her head to look at Bruno. He was staring at her with wide, dreadful eyes.

“Not me. Oh, I am the worst person to tell her,” he said, hands held up in front of him as he shook his head, “I’ll upset her more. You know I will.”

“I’ll do it,” she said, grimacing. It would be best coming from her, anyway, but she was not looking forward to the storm, “Are you okay?”

He averted his eyes, nodding his head.

It was a lie, she knew, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she reached out and gently squeezed his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Pepa knew, the moment she saw her eldest walking up to her, that something was wrong.

She frowned, a raincloud already forming over her head as her daughter approached her while she sat, reading. The hesitant, worried expression on the girl’s face was mingled with traces of anger, and it was so unfamiliar on her face that Pepa’s stomach immediately clenched with nerves.

“Mija, what’s wrong?” she asked, setting her book on the table in front of her.

Dolores’ eyes flicked up to the raincloud above Pepa’s head, and there was a brief moment where she worried her daughter wouldn’t say.

“It’s about Camilo,” Dolores said, voice soft and slightly pained.

“Camilo?” Pepa repeated. Her first thought was that her son had played a prank or something that had upset Dolores, but no, she could tell it was something different. Something more serious than that. The cloud above her thundered, “What happened?”

“Tio Bruno had a vision,” Dolores explained softly, nervously fiddling with her fingers as she sat down beside her. Thunder rolled again at those words, and Pepa tried to calm herself down as her daughter shook her head, “It’s a good thing that he did!” she said, quick to come to her uncle’s defense at the sound of the thunder, “We were able to get there before it got too bad.”

Pepa could feel her heart starting to pick up speed in her chest. More thunder rolled above her.

“Dolores, mija, what happened?” she repeated, reaching out and taking her daughter’s hands.

She took a shaky breath, steadying herself, before launching into it.

“It was Señora Clara,” she said, spitting out the name in disgust, “She was making these horrible, inappropriate comments about him. To him,” she clarified, “He was trying to leave, and she wouldn’t let him. She was trying to…”

She trailed off. She didn’t need to say it. Pepa understood.

Her cloud grew above her head, and a loud clap of thunder shook the house. She couldn’t see it, but she knew that a storm had formed above the whole town within the blink of an eye. 

For once, she didn’t even try to ward it off.

She knew Señora Clara. She had talked with her several times, had brought her tea and arepas after she gave birth to her daughter. She knew her son often babysat for the woman, as he had become the town’s unofficial babysitter over the years.

She didn’t want to believe it, but she knew that Dolores wouldn’t lie about something like that. She clutched her daughter’s hands tightly as lightning flashed outside. The wind had picked up, and rain was pouring outside, beating against Casita ferociously. 

“You said you stopped it?” she asked, voice low with barely constrained fury. Not at Dolores, never at Dolores, but at the thought of an adult even thinking of putting their hands on her child.

“Yes, mamí. She had him backed against a wall, but I stopped her. Camilo’s in his room, now. He’s safe. I promise.”

Her voice sounded slightly pained, and Pepa’s eyes flicked down, noticing her daughter's knuckles red and tender. She quickly let it go and reached for one of Julieta’s arepas.

“Ay, Dios mio, mija. Eat, eat,” she said quickly, “Lo siento.”

Dolores glanced down, looking surprised when she saw her bruised hand. She lightly spread her fingers open, wincing.

“Oh, I didn’t realize… I punched her.”

“Good,” Pepa said, nodding approvingly, “Eat your Tia’s arepa. I will handle this.”

She was proud of her daughter for defending her hermano and for coming to her, but that didn’t stop the storm raging outside. The fury, the horror, that someone in their town, someone she trusted, had harmed her child seared through her veins like electricity waiting to burst out. 

Her baby. Her Camilo. He was only fifteen, still just a child, still innocent in so many ways. He had only recently started showing any kind of interest in others his age, and as far as she knew, he had not had any kind of relationship. He was her loving, funny, gentle son who just wanted to make everyone smile.

And yet... an adult had harassed him, had tried to hurt him. 

The door swung open, and Félix hurried into the room, having obviously put together that the sudden storm was connected to his upset wife.

“Ay, mi vida! Pepa, what’s wrong?” he called out, rushing towards her, “You’re flooding the whole town!”

Félix sounded more concerned for her than the town. She knew him more than she knew himself.

She spun around to face him, eyes flashing angrily.

“Clara was preying on our hijo,” she growled, right as lightning struck outside, lighting up the room through the window, “She tried to… to assault Camilo.”

Her husband’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment, trying to comprehend what she was saying, before they widened, then darkened with anger of their own. His fists clenched at his sides, and he gave a short nod.

“Go rain hell-fire on her,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing to the door, making it clear that he supported whatever she was about to do to the woman, "I'll handle things here."

Pepa nodded, turned on her heel, and started stalking off towards the door.

“Be careful!” Dolores called after her, “Susanna is there. Might want to send her over to a neighbor.”

Pepa hummed in acknowledgement as she stormed out of Casita. She wouldn’t harm a child, but she had no qualms over the woman who had dared to even have such thoughts about her son.