A/N: Here I go again! This is another possible sequel to the movie, but has a very different take on the story than Caned & Disabled, so in no way are they meant to go together. I think Balthazar and Dave are my only two constants in both; everyone else is expendable in one way or another. I tend to get down approaching the Christmas holidays and especially Winter, and I think this story reflects that, which is probably the last thing I needed right now, but there ya go. I think I write quite humorously a lot of the time, but I can never label anything as a comedy, because it's never the main focus, since I'm pretty dark and deranged, overall. This is done, though I think it has kind of an abrupt ending, and is 9 chapters, all between 2000 and 4000 words; it's just a matter of how fast I post it before I call it complete.

Disclaimer: I'm only doing this once, for this story, since I'm tired of trying to be clever, so get out the megaphone: I do NOT own anything recognizable from Sorcerer's Apprentice (2010). I've owned my OC Druid, for years, and Nephrene and Grigory are kinda up for grabs, because they are original, but are being used completely in the context of this movie that I don't own. Druid's just there to suck it up, so to speak, so he's less of a conflict. And I say I don't write comedy.

Too Far Gone

"You forgot to set the wards again, Balthazar," the dark haired man smiled, strolling casually into a back room of the turnaround where the object of his scolding lay in a cot-like twin bed. The blond was on his left side, head on a pillow, and bundled under a comforter.

"I didn't forget, Maxim," he responded dully. "No one is here of any importance."

"David?" He was looked at quizzically, "Come now, Balthazar; you certainly haven't released the Prime Merlinean mere hours after your victory."

"Hours?" He raised his eyes to the digital clock on the nightstand: 8:19 PM:Less than 24 hours ago. "He was out celebrating, last I know."

"And you, and I presume Veronica, are not?" Horvath asked warily, and the blond's eyes flashed strangely:

"Obviously." He managed half a laugh as he found a gun pointed at him, "Oh, really, Maxim?"

"Fragmented bullets, Balthazar—"

"Fragmented brain, Maxim," he sneered. "I could've melted that thing before you had it pointed, but you're amusing me." He pushed aside the covers, and the man was surprised to see him still fully dressed, down to the trenchcoat and lace-up shoes. "I take it you need help finding your cane?"

"You're feverish, Balthazar—" he noted, now, as the flushed, damp-haired man unsteadily got to his feet.

"You beat the shit out of me, Maxim," he snarled now. "What do you expect?"

"That Veronica would heal you."

"Of course you'd think that," he realized, rubbing his face briefly with trembling hands. "Are the police gone?" he asked now, looking straight at the man.

"They left before dark."

"How do you know they didn't find the cane?"

"Once it's out of my possession, it becomes invisible." Balthazar hummed at that, somewhat amused. He limped to the kitchen, into a cabinet, and pulled out an unsullied bottle of Jack Daniels. Breaking the seal, he opened the bottle and downed about a quarter of it before holding it out, but Horvath shook his head.

"Always the proper gentleman," he smiled, capping the bottle and putting it away. He winced suddenly, as if the pain of his injuries had just hit him, and moved out of the kitchen. "Stay behind me," he said hoarsely. "Especially if you must keep that gun out." It was pressed against his back, now.

"Balthazar!" Dave called out, now, rushing down the stairs, seeing his master looking around the corner of the wall. The gun lowered, and Horvath put it away.

"Dave!" he called back enthusiastically, fully around the corner, now, staggering back slightly as the boy rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay . . . I got so caught up in Becky that I just left, and I figured that you and Veronica wanted to be alone, anyway, so . . . I really hope you're not mad at me."

"I'm fine, Dave," he assured, moving his apprentice an arm's length away and grasping his shoulders, looking at him strangely. "Are you going to be around a while?" Dave nodded, "Because I have an errand to run with an old acquaintance." Balthazar dropped his hands and motioned around the corner. "C'mon out, Maxim." The boy's mouth dropped to the floor as Horvath appeared next to his master:

"Hello, David." No one was surprised when he couldn't answer.

"I'll be back in a little while," he said. "It's fine, Dave, really," he assured, clasping his hands on his shoulders again: Can you hear me?

What's going on? Where's Veronica?

Check your Encantus, and make sure you set the wards. He couldn't say more; Horvath was waiting. "C'mon, Maxim; let's go find your cane."

"You're gonna help him find his cane?" Dave shrieked now.

"Yes, David," he emphasized, now. "Veronica wants me to, and you need to have your ring back, as well."

"Fine . . . okay . . . great. " Balthazar rolled his eyes as Horvath followed him out the door. Stutler watched the Phantom leave with a sickening feeling in his stomach, and then went to set some wards. They were very basic, as he hadn't really been taught how, but knew the fundamentals. And, he could always look it up in the Encantus, since he had to read that anyway. Obviously, he must be missing some of the most current info if Veronica was nowhere to be seen, and Horvath was around, but he was not at all prepared for what he found.

"Veronica wants you to help me find my cane?" Balthazar managed a tight smile as he drove. He really could've told Dave everything; as long as he had mentioned something about Veronica, that's all Horvath would focus on.

"She's always believed you'd come back to us; you know that, Maxim." His eyes darkened: "Her hope is probably all that's kept me from killing you."

"Maybe knowing that I'd hurt her has kept me from killing you," the man conceded, nodding. His voice lowered, "What would we do without her?" Balthazar nearly lost control of the car at that, but Horvath was too busy pondering to pay attention.

"Is that a gun in your coat, or are you just happy to see me?" the blond grinned now, as they passed by the destroyed fountain and made their way further into the park. His whole body was tingling slightly, and his ring was glowing, right hand being pulled by some invisible force.

"Is Merlin's ring calling you?" Horvath wondered, noticing the odd goings on, and ignoring the question.

"It would come to me, but it's being held back by your friends' castors." Balthazar thought a moment, "You know, you're only getting your cane back; not all the extraneous jewelry."

"Of course," he knew. "But you'll still need me to help remove them; you're outnumbered."

"As usual," Balthazar rolled his eyes. He had donned his hat for this little outing, and he angled it down slightly with his left hand, the right still being pulled forward. And he felt like they were being watched, as well, though he couldn't get a reading since his senses were being enveloped by the dragon ring. Crouching down suddenly, he felt in the grass with his left hand, and the cane reappeared as soon as he touched it.

"Back to the turnaround," Horvath ordered as he stood back up, twirling the cane, but he shook his head:

"Uh-uh. Dave's there." The darker man sighed:

"Fine. The penthouse, then."

"Balthazar, that is not a baton!" Horvath fumed when they were almost to the Phantom. "Stop that incessant twirling this instant!"

"Why?" he challenged, even as he ceased. "Gonna shoot me?"

"So help me God, I will—"

"That's a funny thing to hear you say," the blond huffed as they entered the car, tossing the hat behind the seat, the barrel of the gun instantly against his left temple, the right side of his head smacking the window as Horvath pushed. "Ouch."

"Give me the cane this instant."

"Are you really that stupid tonight, Maxim?" he wondered, the cane between the seat and the door. "I jammed both guns right after you pointed one at me." He faced the man as the weapon retreated, "Kickbacks are a bitch, Maxim."

"I didn't pull the trigger, Balthazar," he defended himself quietly.

"Luckily for you," he snapped, finally starting the car. "Are we going to the penthouse, or not?" he demanded, now, the other nodding silently. "Fine." He opened the passenger window and nodded towards the other, and Horvath threw both the guns out onto the street. They melted as they hit the blacktop, becoming two silver puddles as the window went up again. "Are your minions still alive?" he wondered now.

"I don't know, Balthazar."

"I'm not looking forward to getting jumped by all three of you."

"I haven't checked on them."

"That means absolutely nothing but the usual, which is that you don't give a shit."

"They probably won't want to help me, either; now would they, Balthazar?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could make them, Maxim."

"I suppose I could," he grinned, now. "We'll see."

The Phantom was in a spot next to the parking garage's penthouse elevators, and they were quiet on the way up, finally sitting at the black kitchen table in the all-black kitchen.

"Imagine that," Balthazar smirked as they both hovered the cane. "Us working together again." It was parallel to the table, tilting slightly side-to-side, and the dragon ring was drawn to the Merlinean, slowly sliding down until it dropped off the edge. Balthazar caught it in his left hand, shoving it in a pocket in his coat. The other two slipped off easily after that, and the blond caught those, as well. And then he moved his right hand away, finally giving Horvath full control of his castor.

"You'd best leave, now, Balthazar," the man said darkly as he started to get up.

"I want to know if your minions are still alive—"

"Why do you care?" he spat.

"Spoken like a true Morganian," he shrugged. "It'll take less time if you just tell me where they are—"

"It'll take even less time if you just get the fuck out of here like I told you to," the man ordered now, face red. "You've humiliated me enough for one day."

"Who came looking for who?" the blond hissed now. "And with guns drawn, no less."

"Drake's on his bed, and Abigail's in the closet." And the door slammed and locked behind Balthazar as he entered Drake's bedroom.

"Terrific," he sighed, rolling his eyes for possibly the hundredth time this evening. The room was pitch-dark and cold, like an extravagant meat locker, all its power obviously disconnected by Horvath from the rest of the apartment. Balthazar's magic couldn't even repair it, though it did manage to light a bunch of red candles scattered about. He peered at Drake, sprawled, face-up, on the king-sized bed: Alive, but unconscious. The closet was almost as wide as the bed, and barely three feet in front of it, and he listened carefully for any sound: Nothing. Holding his breath, he slowly pushed aside the folding door. And got tackled by a 15-year-old.

"Grab him!" Abigail screamed, as she shoved him back into Drake. "Grab his right hand!"

"It's not Horvath," Drake protested, one hand holding a damp cloth over the man's face, the other twisting his right wrist behind him, all the while yanking him back further onto the bed, Abigail on top and pummeling him with small fists.

"He's worse! He's the one who locked me in the Grimhold!" They were weak, no doubt, but they were also incredibly desperate, and Drake's hand held out longer than Balthazar's breath, the older sorcerer finally slumping against the illusionist.

Pains shooting through his right hand and wrist were what finally woke him up, like they had tried to cut his ring off, and failed, because he knew it was still there, even if it was caked with dried blood. That's what it felt like, anyway, he not able to see it, as the entire arm was twisted oddly behind him, he laying on it in the middle of the bed, the Morganians laying on either side of him, guarding, no doubt, if they were even awake. His left arm was pinned to his side by ties around his waist, and his socked feet were crossed and tied at the ankles. The damp cloth that had been over his face was tied loosely around his neck, the fumes from it making him dizzy. His chain was gone, and so were his vest, armwarmers, undershirts and most importantly, his trenchcoat. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, he lifted his head slightly to look for the items, but his vision dimmed immediately. Abigail was awake instantly at the movement, her left hand wrapping around his throat just enough to be threatening.

"Why did you come here?" she demanded.

"I came to the bedroom to see if you and Drake were alive—"

"Why do you care?"

"It's a nasty Merlinean trait." He paused, watching her cold eyes. "Horvath frowned on my interest, so he locked me in."

"You could've escaped."

"Not my intention at the time."

"Wait a minute," Drake said suddenly, he and Abigail now bookending the Merlinean, leaning on their elbows on their sides, staring down at him. "Why were you with Horvath in the first place?"

"I helped him get his cane back, but he had extra castors on it, and we had to work together to get them off."

"Extra castors?" Drake quizzed, now.

"You were helping him with The Rising; do you remember that?"

"Yes."

"The cane castor wasn't strong enough to free Morgana from the Grimhold," he tried to patiently explain. "So he stole yours, yours," he looked at Abigail, "and Dave's."

"And he let Morgana out?"

"Yes—"

"But The Rising obviously failed, or we wouldn't be dealing with you," the girl sneered now in an unhappy realization.

"So the Prime Merlinean fulfilled his destiny?" Drake concluded.

"Yes."

"But what does that have to do with Horvath's cane?"

"Dave blasted the cane away from Horvath, and he was powerless, of course, without it."

"So he came to the bleeding heart for help, and here you are, waiting to die, like the rest of us." Leave it to Abigail to be blunt.

"Not exactly," he half-smiled, surprising them both. "I do still have my ring, as you so eloquently pointed out, though you've done your damnedest to make sure I can't use it."

"Her idea," Drake pointed out sheepishly.

"No shit?" he questioned with heavy sarcasm. "But, my point is, you two are dying, thanks to Horvath, but I do have your rings, so hopefully that can be prevented."

"You do not have our rings," Abigail snarled now, left hand somewhat tighter around his throat. "We checked."

"Is that why I've obviously been strip-searched?" he accused, now, his black dress-shirt only half buttoned.

"Her idea," Drake pointed out again.

"Naturally," he glared at him, Abigail giggling. "They're in the trenchcoat."

"Liar," she spat, now.

"I know you heard it rattling." Balthazar smiled widely, now, and she paled. "Do you think I would make it so easy?" She was up instantly to get it, but his voice stopped her, "Shit. Horvath's coming."

"What do we do now?" Drake asked fearfully.

"We're all unconscious, or we're all dead. You should've freed my hand, but now it's going to be difficult," he knew as the girl flopped back on the bed next to him, her hand back around his throat.

"Well, well, well," Horvath smiled broadly, staring down at the three moments later, the room now ridiculously bright. "Nice little orgy we've got going here . . . Let's make it official; shall we?" He touched the glowing tip of his cane to both Drake and Abigail, giving a silent command. "If I get bored later, I might even bring Veronica into the mix." A pause, "You know, Balthazar, David's on his way here, also . . . Won't he be horrified to see you being ravaged by two dying Morganians?" Another pause, "Too bad you're too weak to stop them," he finished, pressing the glowing jewel against his former friend's crotch. Snickering to himself, Horvath literally killed the lights again before leaving, the door once again sealed shut.

"C'mon you two," Balthazar whispered urgently as soon as Horvath was gone, his blood icy in his veins. "If you have your rings back, you might be able to fight the spell."

"What spell?" Drake asked groggily, slowly sitting up to find the older man eyeing him desperately.

"Please get my trenchcoat."

"Whatever you say, luv." Oh Christ, was it starting already? Abigail's fifteen, for crying out loud! How could his bonds be so tight? Oh yeah, the illusionist was probably an expert at tying himself up, and therefore anyone else, as well, and Horvath might've enchanted them also, though he thankfully hadn't voiced it aloud. Balthazar's right wrist was threatening to break, his ring jammed awkwardly into his back, and his left arm wouldn't budge. He tried flicking his finger, but even that wasn't working. "Here ya go, luv," Drake smiled, covering him from the neck down with the coat before climbing on top of it, reaching his hand down. "You like the feel of leather, don't cha, luv?" he asked, now, pushing the material hard against Balthazar's crotch, and the man's heart sank. At least Abigail wasn't awake, yet. As repulsive as this all was, the worst part was knowing they could die at any time from the exertion, while only being scant feet from their rings.