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The Thing About Being You

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Doc Holliday and Bobo Del Rey were wildly different people to say the least. One was a cursed demon and the other a gunslinger turned immortal turned mortal again. One was a stranger in this new world and the other new the ins and outs of everything. One was a smooth gentleman and the other was a rough around the edges troublemaker.

Whatever similarities they did share, they ignored. The two hated each other and swore that wouldn’t change.

Fate, however, had other plans. Opposites attract and likeness repels, but an even mix of the two leaves you floating in the middle. Sometimes, all it takes is a little nudge.

Other times, when you’re dealing with clueless idiots, it takes a fucking shove.



Doc hummed to himself as he cleaned a glass with a rag. Bars these days felt so much neater than the ones he used to frequent. Shorty’s was a dose of nostalgia with a touch of modern day. Someone had asked Doc for the wifi password the other day and the gunslinger had just stared blankly like he’d been asked for the formula for the philosopher’s stone.

Adjusting to 2018 was strange. It would definitely take Doc some time. Although he missed many things from the late 1800’s, Doc was growing to like this weird new world.

Doc flipped the clean glass in the air and was about to catch it before the door to the bar slammed open. Fumbling, he grabbed the glass seconds before it hit the ground. Pistol now at the ready, Doc turned and faced the door to find the Earp heir standing before him, out of breath, with a nasty looking bruise forming on the left side of her head.

“DOC!” Wynonna panted, running up to the counter. “We’ve got a problem!.”

Of course they did. Still, Doc was more than willing to help his friend. “Judging by your composure this seems to be quite a big problem.”

Wynonna took a few breaths before she spoke again. “Peacemaker’s gone.”

“It’s WHAT?!” Doc yelled, dropping the glass he had just caught. It shattered on the ground. “How in the hell did you manage to lose an undoubtedly important magical gun?!”

“These two guys were causing trouble in town, I tell them to knock it off and BAM glowing red eyes, revenants!” Wynonna began. “I aim for one and the other hits me.” She motioned to the bruise. “My vision went blurry for a second and I was off guard. He knocked Peacemaker out of my hand. By the time I could see right again, they were gone and so was my fucking gun.”

“Revenants… took Peacemaker.” Doc pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was under the assumption that they couldn’t hold it without burning.”

“Well…” Wynonna said sheepishly. “They kinda… had gloves?”

“The revenants had gloves.”


“And they took Peacemaker.”


“The only gun that can kill them.”

“Uh huh.”

Doc looked at Wynonna for a long moment before speaking again. “I believe I should call agent Dolls.”

“What?! Hey! No! You can not call Dolls,” Wynonna insisted. She leaned across the bar counter. “Doc, if he finds out about this I am dead.”


“Unfortunate?! Doc, you gotta help me! Please, you and I will find Peacemaker, get it back, and then it’s like nothing ever happened.” Wynonna pleaded.

“Mm hmm.” Doc hummed. “And what do I get out of this?”

“Come on! Can’t you do this out of the good of your own heart?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“For the sake of humanity?”

“I think I will have to pass, miss Earp. Humanity has not done much for me.”

“Fine! What do you want?” Wynonna sighed.

Doc’s lips turned up into a smirk. “I want one of them fancy floor cleaning circle robots.”

Wynonna blinked. “You want a fucking roomba?!”

“Hey, cleaning the floor here can be a hassle!” He gestured to the shards of glass by his feet. “But I’m sure Dolls knows where I can buy one myself. Allow me to just give him a call-”

“Okay okay, I’ll get you a goddamn roomba! Sheesh!” Wynonna grumbled. “Just help me out with this and don’t breathe a word to anybody.”

Doc smiled as he bent down to start picking up the broken glass. “Cross my heart.”



Bobo was a mess. Well, more of a mess than usual. His hair was tangled, the white slowly fading back to black, and his beard could use a trim. The nail polish on his pinkies was chipped and his hands were scratched after attempts of climbing up the stone walls of the well. The straight jacket he wore was torn and covered in dirt.

The revenant had tried for days to get out of the well, to no avail. He couldn’t get out himself and he knew nobody was coming for him. Bobo had finally given up.

When you’re left alone with your thoughts for a long time it gets hard to ignore them. When you have nowhere to run, you’re forced to confront them.

Bobo Del Rey had taken any traces of humanity and softness and had crushed them with his boot, stomped on them until they were dust. That dust was now rising up in his lungs to choke him.

“What about Wyatt?” a voice inside his head asked. “What about the old you?”

“The old me is dead,” Bobo told that voice. “Wyatt killed him. Hell made me.”

“Hell changed you.”

“Hell does that to people.”

“There’s light in you yet, Robert,” the voice continued. “You have the capability to do good again. To redeem yourself.”

Bobo laughed a bit at that thought. “And how am I supposed to do that when I’m stuck all the way down here?”

“Start with letting yourself feel.”

The thought hit Bobo like a brick. He’d shoved his emotions so far down inside himself and never let anything but amusement or anger show. It had never occurred to him how little he expressed what he was truly feeling.

Taking in a deep breath, Bobo screamed. A pained, angry, tortured cry. He screamed until it hurt and then screamed some more. Nobody was around to hear it anyways. He let out the anger inside him. The resentment he held for Wyatt Earp for putting this curse on him. His bitterness towards Waverly Earp, his angel, who he’d sworn to protect but was now an enemy. His frustration about Doc Holliday who was just another reminder of how little old Robert Svane meant to Wyatt.

The yell died down and then ever so slowly, it turned into sobs.

It had been so long since Bobo had cried. It was so foreign. His body trembled as he let everything out, like a soda bottle someone had shaken up before finally taking the cap off. Bobo sank to the floor of the well and curled up into a ball. He had let Wyatt down. He had let Willa down. He had let himself down.

It hurt, but at the same time, it felt good. A huge weight had been lifted from the revenants shoulders. He felt… more human.

“Breathe,” the voice told him. “Breathe, Robert. Your redemption starts now.”