Just a quick AN: One of the reviews mentioned that the rating should go up. However, the worst of it was in Chapter 1 with the implications of Glinda's body being used. Nothing sexual will be described in this story. Just thought I'd clear that up!

And thanks for reading and the reviews!

Glinda realized she didn't have her shoes anymore. She wasn't sure when it had happened, but it wasn't like she had been using them anyway. She found that it was faster to run without them. Despite running as fast as she could, though, things happened to her all the time. She wasn't sure what day it was or how long she had been in Southstairs. It was always dark; there were small lights lit in some places but she refused to reveal herself out there in the light. That, she knew, would just be screaming for her body to be used yet again.

Glinda snuggled up against the hay pile. "Oh, Elphie, where in Oz are you?" she whimpered.

The petite girl felt a presence beside her. She cringed and didn't dare look at him-she would believe it was a him because she hadn't actually seen any women down there. Whoever it was didn't do anything. She could feel him staring at her. She flinched.

"Miss Glinda?" The voice was familiar. She dared to look out of the corner of her eye, and she saw a Goat, only he was on all fours. She cocked her head to the side in confusion. He had spoken, hadn't he? "Miss Glinda, I will not hurt you. It is me, Dr. Dillamond, your old history professor," he said calmly.

"Dr. Dillamond? They…they put you in here?" Glinda questioned him bravely. Hopefully he hadn't turned into a monster like everyone else down there.

"I could ask the same about you," he said to her. The blonde hesitantly reached out to him, wanting and needing the comfort of a familiar face, even if he was just her old history professor. He and Elphaba had been close, so that was good enough for her. Actually, any familiar friendly face was welcomed. He walked closer to her, and her hand had touched his fur. Before she knew it, she had wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Glinda began to explain everything that happened from her name change from making the "Ga" silent, when Elphaba defied the Wizard, and when she had been arrested.

"They are trying to make me a goat," Dr. Dillamond said. "So far, I am about a quarter of the way there, as you can see. I cannot seem to find the will to walk properly."

"How come? Did they hurt you?" Glinda asked. They were both sitting amongst the hay. Glinda shivered when he nodded, and she just knew he must have been tortured. If the light was better, she'd see the parts of him that lacked fur and some of it had dried blood on it.

"But do not worry about me, Miss Glinda. Please don't."

"I'm so scared," she said. "I-I can't even sleep. They're just so horrible down here."

"Miss Glinda, I will protect you while I am down here. I will do my best so that nobody hurts you. Sleep as much as you want. I will be here when you wake up," he assured her. Glinda nodded and let her exhaustion overcome her.

During her days in Southstairs with Dr. Dillamond, she found that it was much more bearable. He'd ram into her tormentors roughly with his horns. It was funny that people down there feared him, and she wondered how anyone could be afraid of him. She was very grateful for his presence, but both of them deserved to be up there, not underground.

Glinda was able to get some food into her system once a day like everyone else. He made sure nobody stole the food she had collected to eat. She was safe, she wasn't starving to death, and she had someone. Glinda never thought those things would be the only ones she wanted. However, it was short lived (or so she thought, she wasn't entirely sure how long it had been) when Dr. Dillamond was forced out of Southstairs. She remembered his cries when he told them to keep him down there with Glinda. Of course, that would never happen. They didn't want prisoners to be happy. She wondered where he had gone and ended up. Was he free? Or was he in some torture room?

Glinda waited for a long time. It had been long enough where she didn't smell the horribleness of Southstairs. She was used to the terrible noises and ignored them easily. She got used to the torture and endured it. But eventually, it became too much despite the numbness her body felt, and she ran. Glinda abandoned her spot she had occupied for such a long time. "Get back here!" a man yelled at her. Why did they want her body that badly? Didn't they have other priorities? Perhaps they had given up and realized they were never getting out.

Lost in her thoughts, Glinda tripped and fell on the ground. She forced herself not to scream when she felt a strong grip pull her up. She had no idea what was going on, and she was forced behind him. "Give me the girl," her chaser demanded. Her heart was pounding, and the other man gripped her wrist tightly. She tried to tug away, but to no avail.

"If you were smart, you'd let her be," he said. She was surprised when the man who had pursued her just left. But did this mean this man was worse? "Sorry about that. I didn't want you runnin' off so he could catch you. You all right?" Glinda stopped struggling. What was the point?

"As all right as I can be considering the circumstances," she admitted. She looked around. "I've never been this far back before," she said. "I don't even know where I am anymore."

"Have you been alone this whole time?" he questioned her. Sensing he wasn't going to harm her, she let herself become less tense.

"For the most part. I had someone, but he was taken away a while ago."

"Sorry to hear that," he said. "You're welcome to join my group. No one, especially a lady, should be down here alone. It's too risky."

"Don't I know it," Glinda said and found herself walking beside him.

"What's your name?" he asked, grabbing her hand so she wouldn't get lost in the darkness.

"Glinda. Not sure if my last name matters anymore," she replied.

"Tate," he introduced himself. "It's true, last names don't mean a thing down here. No one cares about social status."

"Everyone's the same."

"Right," Tate nodded.

"I don't even know why I trust you," Glinda said. His hand was large, she noted. It was rough and his skin was thin. He must have been an old man. She wondered how long someone could live down here for, and it scared her. Would she be an old woman prisoner? She wanted to know why he still had the will to live after so many years. Her other hand was numb and this yellow dress (now it was probably dulled and dirty) did absolutely nothing to keep her warm.

"It's good. You haven't lost that ability yet," Tate replied. They continued far back into the darkness, and Glinda was beginning to think she shouldn't have trusted him.

Please find me, Elphie. Somehow. Oh, who am I kidding? You aren't coming back. You never will.