Author's Note: This gets a little creepy. If I do continue, it'll probably be in the vein of A Boy and His Poof, where I try to taper down the darkness somewhat. I'm not sure if I'm continuing this, so be advised. Also, slightly AU- Poof doesn't exist in this universe.
Null Moon
Every once in a while a fairy suffered tremendously bad luck. It happened during a blue moon, when the year in question was a leap year, and the sky was red at night. Normally, they managed to avoid any extensive wishing during that time period and stuck to the basics. Timmy Turner had always proven an exception to the rule. No matter how they tried to warn him that big wishes were a bad idea, he ignored them. Then again, Wanda supposed she should have known better. Timmy balked at the idea of listening to good advice on the best days.
This was not one of those days.
The temperature had dropped to the low thirties and Cosmo and Wanda disguised themselves as a coat and hat to help keep Timmy warm. Fog obscured visibility and the rank smell of rotting flesh caused all three to shudder. Cosmo was trying to hold his nose as a coat by burying his face against Timmy's stomach. He accidentally bit him, Timmy swatted at his godfather, and Cosmo whined and returned to facing outward.
"Why is it so cold and smelly?" Timmy complained. "Weren't we just in my bedroom, like, five minutes ago?"
"I tried to warn you, sport," Wanda replied. "But you wouldn't listen."
"It's close midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark…" Cosmo sang. Wanda couldn't jab him from atop Timmy's head, so she blew him a raspberry.
"Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart…"
"What are you singing?" he asked. "And…does anyone else hear that unearthly wailing?"
"Hey!" Cosmo protested. "My singing's not that bad!"
"Not you, hun," Wanda said and then muttered, "though you were a little off key."
Cosmo stopped singing, to her relief, and groans filled the air. Shuddering, Wanda pressed down onto Timmy's head for security. Her husband clung to Timmy's back. The unidentified moaners interspersed their cries with sobs and accusations, the voices too familiar for comfort. She changed into a large dog to protect Timmy while Cosmo shifted into a hoodie so Timmy didn't lose warmth from his head.
"Cosmo…Wanda…" The wails rose in volume, their words audible now, and Cosmo whined, cringing against his godson. Wanda snarled, digging her paws into the mud and touching cold, brittle bone. Startled, she jumped. Their audience seemed not to notice.
"Guys, what's going on?" Timmy said.
"Remember when I told you 'horrible things could happen'?" Wanda asked.
"Yeah, but you say that about all my wishes," he scoffed. "I didn't think anything would actually happen."
"She doesn't say that about all your wishes," Cosmo input. "Just the really stupid ones!"
"You wished you could meet the godchildren who didn't grow too old for us, right?" she asked, her voice rising to drown out the cries. It didn't work. She shuddered.
"So you brought us to a graveyard?" Timmy screeched.
"We didn't bring you anywhere," Wanda retorted. "I told you—dark magic is afoot today."
"You expect me to believe that all your other godchildren just up and died?" he scoffed. "Wow, you've got a great track record. Is it too late to switch godparents?"
"It wasn't our fault!" Cosmo protested.
Shadows shuffled closer and out of the group, figures emerged. One of them, a girl with long, stringy blonde hair, broke free from the pack and approached them. Wanda retreated, baring her teeth and guarding Timmy. Cosmo shifted into a dog beside her and Timmy shivered, missing the extra warmth. Confused, he looked around and backed up too, tripping over a stone in his path. Wanda heard him fall, along with the ensuing crack, and rushed to his side. He'd tripped over a gravestone.
"Sport, are you okay?" she whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered. "My arm feels kind of funny, though. Is it supposed to bend that way?"
Grimacing, she materialized her wand, squeezed it between her teeth, and healed him. The girl had stopped a foot away from Cosmo, cocked her head at the fairies, and then smiled cruelly at Timmy. Timmy rose to his feet with a hand on Wanda's back. He clenched her fur.
"Hello, Cosmo and Wanda," a sugary sweet little girl said. She stood at Timmy's height and had died at his age. Her stockings had torn, though the dirt hid most of the damage. She had partially destroyed Mary Jane's, with the soles hanging off and toes poking through the front. Either the fog or decay had dyed her taffeta dress grey and it hung to her knees. A long, jagged scar ran behind her ear and along her back, though this was something one would only know through experience with her. Cosmo had frozen, shaking, and inched closer to Timmy and Wanda.
"Hello, sweetie," Wanda said cautiously.
"You never visit me," she accused. "You never visit any of us."
"We've been busy," Cosmo lied.
"Busy with all those other children you let down?" she asked, cocking her head. "What makes him so lucky? He'll die just like the rest of us."
"Okay, I've met one creepy girl. Done with this wish," Timmy said. "It's not even Halloween anymore. Let's go."
"Oh, you're not going anywhere," she promised. She stared hard at the fairies. "You didn't show up for my birthday. Or my death day. You weren't there when Daddy tried to fix me."
"Um, guys?" he prompted. "Explanation?"
"Early—early on," Wanda said, gulping, "people used to believe in shock therapy. That you could—that you could 'fix' someone if you electrocuted them."
"What was wrong with her?" Timmy asked in a low whisper that carried.
"My mommy died," the girl answered, advancing so they stood in a small, clustered group. She rubbed Cosmo's head and he whined, cringing into Timmy. Snarling, the girl grabbed Cosmo by the throat and both fairies yelped, Wanda torn between protecting Timmy and rescuing her husband.
"They were supposed to fix it," she continued, ignoring her former godparents. "But Daddy didn't like that I was so sad. So he tried to make me better. 'All better now, Rosalie'."
"Let go of him," Wanda hissed. Rosalie smiled, her face pale and lined with dirt and grime. Her hand around Cosmo's neck unclenched and she released him. Panting, he fell to the ground and regained his breath. He seemed all right, save for his tail twitching.
"Then one day, Daddy heard me talking to Cosmo and Wanda and talking about fairies. He said he'd make sure I was fixed personally…" She smiled, a rictus that made Timmy shudder. He gathered Cosmo and Wanda to him and hugged them. Cosmo, wheezing, managed a halfhearted nudge against Timmy's hip.
"And they never came back. Never again," she said in a singsong voice. "Poor Rosalie. Poor Cosmo and Wanda."
"I wish we were home!" Timmy said. Cosmo and Wanda held up their wands and they deflated. Rosalie cocked her head to the right and grabbed Timmy by the shoulders. She brushed her dead lips against his, he screamed, and she hopped backward. Fingers digging into Cosmo and Wanda's fur, she yanked them back. They kicked, smacking her with their tails, and propelled themselves away from her. For a dead girl, she had a strong grip. When they tried to move, something impeded their progress.
"Guys!" he cried. He wiped his mouth and dashed after them; whatever force compelled them to her side forced him down to the ground onto her gravestone. She giggled, a sound raising the hair on the back of their necks, and rubbed Cosmo's neck. Particularly sensitive after being strangled, he turned his head to bite her. She pressed against his jugular and he stilled.
"We'll stay here forever, won't we?" she chimed. "Then, when Timmy dies, he'll be just like us. Isn't that right, Ronnie? Cate? Melissa? Jeremy?"
"I wish we were home! I wish we were anyone but here! I un-wish this wish!" Timmy cried, standing and staggering. Wanda saw matted blood on his temple.
"He's hurt," she whispered to Cosmo.
"Good," Rosalie barked. She dragged his godparents backward and the fight drained out of her. Suddenly, she felt lethargic and weak. Cosmo, beside her, slumped. Her claws left trails as she fought to reach Timmy. Snickering, Rosalie slammed her fist onto Wanda's head. Dazed, Wanda howled and scratched herself by accident.
"Sit, stay, don't roll over," Rosalie intoned. "We'll be right back."
She dropped them and stepped into the mist. Wanda knew she was still around, could sense her presence, and concentrated on tracking it. Timmy collapsed beside them.
"I know I don't normally say this, but…I'm sorry and I made a bad wish. So why can't we go home?" he asked.
"Because Da Rules state you can't interfere with true hate?" Cosmo offered. His voice was hoarse.
"I don't know, sweetie," she replied. "This has never happened before."
"Maybe it's just bad luck," he answered. "Maybe we need good luck."
"We're supposed to be the embodiment of good luck," she reminded him.
"And look how well that turned out," Cosmo observed.
"Maybe we should call Jorgen?" he asked. "Jorgen Von Strangle, toughest fairy in the universe! Get your butt down here!"
They waited, the moaning a background noise she couldn't tune out. It set her teeth on edge and she tilted her head to investigate Timmy's injury. He was still bleeding and, guessing her wand probably wouldn't be of much assistance, she licked the blood off his forehead. Startled, he lifted his head.
"I'm helping," she said. "Fairy saliva has magic properties, remember?"
"Is there anything you guys produce that doesn't involve magic?" he huffed.
"Uh…" Cosmo started and Wanda hushed him with a paw. She knew what he was about to say.
"They aren't really going to claim you as their godparents again, are they?" he inquired.
"They can't," Wanda said. Another shape materialized from the mist, snarled, and stomped its way toward them. It stopped, a vague fairy shaped blob, and snapped orders. The mist did strange things with his words; it distorted them, dropped phrases from sentences, and rendered him like a poorly tuned radio station. Timmy shivered, stroking Wanda's stomach, and Cosmo sat in front of him. At a loud clap, Wanda lifted her muzzle from Timmy's head wound.
"Tiny fairies," Jorgen growled. He stopped a few feet in front of them. Behind him, five dead and infuriated godchildren stomped their feet. One of them tugged on Jorgen's wand; another grabbed the first from behind to help yank it from the massive overpowered creature. Wanda and Cosmo growled, snapping their jaws at the children.
"I warned you not to make a wish today!" Jorgen reprimanded.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Timmy complained. "I got it now. Jeez, does everyone have to remind me?"
Lightning flashed before their eyes, not a natural occurrence but something purple and acidic. Cosmo whined and she felt wind against her face. When her vision cleared, albeit with eyes still tearing, she saw five dead children cradling Jorgen's wand. Their clothes were in various states of disrepair, though none looked to be older than Timmy's age. Dirty hair, impossible to tell the color now, covered their eyes. She knew them well, these shades from time past. Wanda's stomach clenched and she glanced at her husband, on the ground again with his paws over his eyes.
"And that is why," Jorgen said. The leader, Rosalie, stepped in front of the other girls and boy to raise the wand high. It took additional support for her to lift it.
"Can't you just take it back?" Timmy asked. "I mean, it's your wand."
Jorgen glared, snatching the wand back. The top lit up, though no one had spoken. Beneath their feet, the ground trembled and Timmy dove for his godparents. He landed with his arms around them and looked up. Rosalie had left off with the wand to grin cruelly.
"You should be the dead one," she said.
"That is not how that works," Jorgen growled.
"Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posey…ashes, ashes, we all fall down…" the group chorused. Timmy hugged his godparents tighter and his vision lightened, fading to white.
…
The next thing he became aware of was that it was warm, morning, and the sun shone in his face. He grinned, bouncing to his feet.
"I don't know what just happened, but way to go," he said. His arms felt strange and he rubbed them. "Take me home now, guys. Guys?"
Impatient, he looked at the dogs on the ground. Rather than pink and green, they were both ordinary black Labrador Retrievers. They were also ordinary, dead black Labrador Retrievers. Timmy shuddered, hugging himself. The graveyard was clear, no sign of the dead children or Jorgen, but also no sign of his godparents.
"Cosmo and Wanda?"
There was no reply. Growing concerned, he stomped his foot on the ground. It gave way beneath him and left a hole at least six feet deep. Screaming, Timmy grabbed the headstone as the ground beneath him crumbled. Where he had stood was a coffin. His heart pounded.
"Very funny! I learned my lesson. Now, where is everyone?" he asked.
The headstone lurched, bucking like a live animal, and tossed him onto the coffin. Slammed onto his back, the breath knocked out of him, he choked. Coughing, he curled into a ball and waited to regain his breath. When he had, he sat up and rubbed his sore lower back.
"Jorgen?" he whispered.
His skin crawled. "You should be the dead one."
It was, perhaps, a good thing that Wanda wasn't here to witness this. Shaking, realizing just how quiet the world was, without cars or the sound of talk as people bypassed the cemetery, Timmy cursed. His words provided the only sound. His teeth chattered and he hugged himself.
Wait. If he was the only person here, how was he going to escape this grave? He tried jumping, but of course a three and a half foot tall child stood no chance of escaping. In fact, it only frustrated him further. He had to stop when his headache and his backache made him desperate enough to pitch headfirst into the soil, spit it out, and lie on his back on a coffin. He'd had better days.
"Anyone? Anyone at all?"
He looked for leverage. No one had been stupid enough to leave a shovel for him to use to lift himself. He punched a hole in the soil and it crumpled, like dust. Puzzled, Timmy turned around and spread the soil like he was trying to swim through it. It parted easily. Disturbed but not questioning his luck, he forced his way to the surface.
The dirt turned to ash in his mouth and he spat it out, kicking and struggling his way up. The dirt coated his hands, face, and every available inch of skin it could find. Closing his eyes, he spat constantly, trying to dislodge all the dirt in his mouth that he swallowed. His push upward was part desperation, part uncontrollable shaking. Everything he touched fell apart. His heart was beating. He wasn't dead. He told himself that.
His heart was beating. He couldn't be dead. Dead people had no pulse. His heart was beating. Cosmo and Wanda were gone, but he wasn't dead.
That didn't answer where they went, but he had other priorities right now. He spent the next five minutes flailing like a fish out of water until he found solid ground, pulled himself up, and panted, staring at the sky with eyelashes covered in gunk. He'd lost his hat somewhere and didn't bother to retrieve it. Lying back, he expected to feel the sun's warmth, the usual California weather.
The sun wasn't hot. In fact, what he'd thought of as warmth before had belonged to the dogs, which must have died minutes earlier. This prompted another round of cursing, as well as staring at the sun. It was close, directly overhead, and should have given him a summer blaze. Instead, it resembled the time he had wished everyone was the same and it was washed out, only offering the hint of warmth with none of the actual presence.
He had to move soon, though he was reluctant. Still, he had to know whether there was anyone else here, anyone he could talk to about getting home. Timmy Turner might've been an average kid, but he knew enough to tell he wasn't in Dimmsdale anymore.