A/N: I will repeat for those of you who may have missed it: this story does not mix and match with anything else I write. It does not follow my head-canon AT ALL and it does not follow any of the previously established rules I've used for my Owen-fics. This is also Extremely AU (follows neither my own canon nor Greg Weisman's in ways that will be made obvious quite shortly). I appologize to those of you who will be annoyed/disappointed by the turn the story is about to take but stick through to the end and I promise an explanation.

Also, I'm unlikely to have it all up by tonight. Sorry but life happens (sad face)

Spoilers: All episodes up to and including Ransom.

Warnings: Gore, graphic torture

Disclaimer: Me no owns it.


Part 2: A Fatal Error

The building itself was fine. The lobby was orderly and clean, the receptionist calm and pleasant as she waved the detectives past security. The elevator made no fuss about getting them up to the castle's living area.

Elisa had her gun drawn and beside her Matt was tense as the doors opened. Dawn had broken already, neither had any reason to believe that their first sight would be a gargoyle.

Hudson was crouched in the great hall, wings tucked, apparently starting a four-legged run to another part of the castle when the sun had risen. Elisa felt her heart rate quicken; the gargoyles prefered to be on the parapets when they rested during the day - were careful to ensure that they were in their respective places each dawn - Hudson shouldn't have been there.

They found Goliath in the hall, upright though no less urgent than Hudson, with his arms outstretched, palms flat in a ceasing gesture. Beyond him Lex struggled against Brooklyn who was holding the smaller gargoyle in a crushing stone hug. Goliath and Brooklyn looked pained; Lexington was wild, mouth open in a silent roar.

"What happened here?" Matt's whisper was loud in the prevailing silence. They were entering what Elisa had always considered the communal living space used more often even than the library, where the gargoyles and Xanatos family called their cease fires and came together for the sake of the little one.

A side table was in pieces, having been thrown with some force at the wall. Elisa scanned the room slowly, eyes finally landing on the couch and nearly missed the bright red strands and pale hand hanging over the edge.

Swearing, Elisa rushed to the other side of the room, this time Matt outpaced her, his fingers finding the pulse point on Fox's neck.

"Fox," Elisa knelt, taking the other woman's hand in hers when her partner signaled that the woman was alive. "Fox can you hear me?"

"She's been sedated," Elisa twisted around, gun raised, to face David Xanatos.

The man looked haggard. His eyes were heavy, his shoulders slumped. Unlike his wife he was dressed for the day but it was clear from the lines on his jacket and pants that he'd not given much attention to the task.

"What do you mean sedated?" It was with great reluctance that Elisa lowered her gun.

"Why? What happened here?" Matt, far more trusting than she, had already put his gun away. Xanatos stared at the other man for a long moment and Elisa realized that he was probably wondering what the other officer was doing there. It was no secret that Matt knew about the gargoyles but his contact with the Xanatos' had be limited.

"She was out of control," Xanatos either wasn't in the mood to argue or was obfuscating. It was hard to tell with him sometimes. The dark man nodded to the shattered table. "I didn't want her to hurt anyone."

"Fox did that?" Xanatos turned his gaze from Matt entirely and gave Elisa a pointed look. It took a moment, but she finally understood.

"But I thought-" she stopped, remembering how little her partner knew and how many of her secrets weren't her own to give. "What happened?" she asked instead because it seemed a safer thing.

It wasn't though. David turned his gaze to Matt again, his eyes flat and dull though Elisa had no doubt that behind the look Xanatos was appraising her partner.

"Alex is gone," he continued, blocking out her own exclamations as well as Matt's "we can't inform the police."

"Well why not?" Matt's demand was reasonable; Elisa had been about to make it herself. "You threw a freaking press conference last time!"

"The ransom note is in the nursery," Xanatos's eyes slid from Matt's back to Elisa's. Something about this was different; this was something that the man wasn't sure Matt could be trusted to see.

Elisa knew her partner, had been through a lot with him, had suspected him of endangering the lives of her dearest friends and then seen him come through in the end. She trusted him with her life.

She glanced down at Fox, noting how small she looked in her nightgown - how weak. It wasn't unlike that Halloween not so terribly long ago when the Eye had left the redhead weeping naked and half-dead.

Elisa trusted Matt with this woman and her family and - she nodded in answer to Xanatos's unasked question - she would bear the responsibility should she turn out to be wrong.

The walk to the nursery was a quiet one. Weapons put away and adrenaline high wearing down, the quiet was almost too harsh but not even Matt could find the will to break it.

The crib had been torn apart but Elisa paid little attention to that.

"My God," Matt whispered beside her, coming to a stop just a second slower. "What...?"

In large, ugly black letters someone had smeared across the nursery wall there was a simple demand.

'Give Us The Fairy Or The Boy Dies. 24 Hours'

"Puck," Elisa breathed. Matt turned to ask what she'd meant, or perhaps to tell her to watch her language if he'd misheard, but Elisa had already turned and was already running.

(Line Break)

Tony Dracon was having an early breakfast/very late dinner when one of his men - a nameless nobody he'd hired as enforcer because the man was large and had an imposing, ugly face - stumbled in, clutching at his throat and bleeding from the mouth.

On either side of the booth Tony's men stood, raising their weapons to defend against-

Tony pushed his plate away and watched the proprietor of the establishment disappear into a back room from the corner of his eyes. If he didn't know how deeply involved the man was with criminals other than Tony he might have worried about the cops showing up. As it was, the old man was probably just going to get his shot gun.

A slender, blond man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped around the partition blocking Tony's booth from the rest of the empty restaurant and gave him a cool look.

"Damn," Tony muttered under his breath. "Staine actually did it."

It was the wrong thing to say.

(Line Break)

Xanatos was sitting on the couch with his wife's head cradled in his lap when Elisa caught herself in the door way. His dark eyes were focus somewhere high above her head, his fingers carding thoughtlessly through Fox's red hair, and Elisa didn't have to look up to know what he was staring at.

Elisa had never really liked the portrait, with it's dark jewel tones and gaudy gilded frame but she knew the significance. That one painting had cost more than Elisa made in a year, but for a man like David Xanatos - for someone that had trouble not giving things monetary value - it probably hadn't cost enough. That portrait showed everything he valued most in this world; his family.

His family plus one.

"Where's Owen?" she asked and it took David a long moment to drag his eyes down to meet hers. Matt was slow in coming to her side meaning that he'd stopped and done his duty as an office; examined the room and maybe even made notes of his findings.

David glanced over his shoulder, as though he needed the reminder that the blond haired shadow wasn't in its usual place.

"Out. Looking."

"You sent him out? Why?" Matt was confused, understandably so, but they didn't have time to stop and explain things to him.

"He said... he promised to bring Alex back," Xanatos looked pained. Elisa had never seen the expression on him before and felt a sharp pang of unwanted sympathy. "I couldn't stop him," he looked down at Fox then, his fingers pausing. "I didn't want to."

Elisa thought of Owen, silent and still and menacing when Xanatos required it of him. She thought of Puck, hovering protectively over the Xanatos heir at every opportunity. She thought of what she was willing to do when her own family was in danger.

"We have to go," she grabbed Matt by the front of his coat and pulled. "We don't have much time."

Claude Frolo would burn down all of Paris for the gypsy girl he lusted for. What would an angry fae do to New York for the child it was honor bound to protect?

(Line Break)

Tony Dracon was, in the end, a weak man and it took very little for him to break. His men on the ground around them, moaning and coughing - some even spitting blood - was more than enough.

"I don't know what his plan was," Tony was winding down. To him David Xanatos' right hand had done nothing but stare from the seat across the table. "All I know is Staine was talking about how he was going to kidnap Xanatos' kid and get some sort of power out of the deal."

"Where?"

It was less a question that it was a command and the first thing the blond had said since sitting down. The first man to fall under Owen's stone fist had yet to move from where he'd fallen and Tony was not so full of himself to believe that he would end this encounter any other way if he didn't cooperate fully.

"The warehouse district; he's been stuffing the place with guns and supplies for weeks," the blond made no indication that this was the information he'd wanted. Tony leaned across the table, speaking calmly because to do otherwise wasn't even thinkable anymore. "You didn't get it from me but I've got the number of his warehouse if you promise to leave me and my guys alone. We all leave happy and nobody needs to tell the cops you were here."

Bargaining after revealing his hand was not the best move, but Tony could hardly hear himself speak over the pounding of his heart. Owen looked at him for a long moment before reaching across the table, oh so slowly, and opening his hand.

"I'm waiting."

(Line Break)

It was well past the time the sun was at it's zenith. In a few short hours the gargoyles would awaken and there would be more eyes out searching for Alexander but Owen had neither the patience nor inclination to wait.

The first of the men fell embarrassingly quickly under Owen's fists - some far harder than others - despite their weapons. He got the distinct impression that a mild looking blond in suit and glasses was not what they had been ordered to protect against.

The next line of defense were better prepared, and armed, than those outside. They too, were not expecting to be faced with a man.

"Hey!" A gun was leveled at Owen's head, but he never slowed. "Stop right-" the man - a thirty something vagrant by the smell of him - wasn't prepared to shoot a man. Staine should have picked his men better. The man went down hard and with little effort. The next got a shot off before consciousness was lost to him though it was wild and very far from the mark indeed.

The third, guarding the door, was made of stronger stuff. This man, with his ginger hair and cold blue eyes, didn't flinch as Owen stalked forward and didn't tremble as Owen reached out.

He also missed his target, but only just.

The bullet scraped along his upper arm, shredding fabric and even burning skin as Owen ran forward but it didn't slow him.

The door guarding grunts weren't important, Owen had to remind himself as his grip tightened around the man's throat. The important thing was to find Alexander and to get him home safely to his family.

Owen's grip didn't loosen.

"Where is Staine?" He asked, voice deliberate and measured. Behind him, on the ground, of the men he'd knocked out earlier was stirring slightly. The other would require medical attention that was unlikely to arrive any time soon.

Not if Owen could help it.

"In-" the man gasped, groping fruitlessly at Owen's hand. "Inside."

The trap wasn't unexpected but the sheer reckless stupidity wasn't.

The door opened too easily for him and the large open space beyond appeared empty. As he stepped into the room, the expected attack came from his right. A man, far better prepared than those outside, flung a thick metal chain like a whip.

Owen stopped the chain with his hand - caught it with the intention of pulling it away from his would be attacker - when the blow came from behind.

Iron again, a pipe perhaps, struck his skull with a resounding crack and Owen went do his knees in the middle of that room.

The warehouse was housing a few small stacks of nondescript crates and from behind these more men came.

Owen Burnett and Eliot Staine had never met face to face before, but they didn't need to to recognize each other now.

"So Xanatos sent his lackey," Eliot wasn't much to look at with his thinning, greying hair and short, heavy stature. Owen knew better to underestimate someone based on looks but this man... this man was nothing new. Nothing special. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised but I figured the man would value the life of his only child more."

Dizzy, annoyed and finally tired from the day's exertion, Owen was slow in shoving away the hand that reached down to pat him mockingly on the cheek. He was even slower in pulling back and Staine took advantage, gripping the blond's wrist with a sneer.

"And what did you think you were going to do? Storm the castle and save the little prince?" Owen's jaw clenched. "I said I wanted the f-" Staine stopped suddenly, his beady, black eyes narrowing.

Owen remained kneeling, his wrist caught in the vile man's hand.

"And what's this?" Eliot Staine pushed the sleeves of Owen's jacket and shirt down to reveal a green and purpling welt where the iron chain had caught him, dark stains of color making the veins visible under his pale skin. As he watched, the mark lightened, the dark tendrils receding. "Looks like our friend here has a sensitivity to iron," the brunette announced to his men. "You know, you should really see a doctor about that."

"Where is Alexander?" Owen asked, voice quiet and low.

"The kid for a fairy," Staine said flatly. "That's the deal."

Owen remained silent on the floor for a long moment before pulling his wrist free from Staine's grasp and standing.

"Very well," the blond tugged his glasses from his face, calmly folding and tucking them into his coat pocket. He started to turn, slowly at first and then picking up terrible, frightening speed.

The men flinched back, wind pulling at their clothes and hair. Eliot lifted his chin, watched as the tall figure became small and rose into the air.

"Where?"

The human's cold eyes narrowed and a smug look crossed his face. The Puck's mouth formed a thin, hard line.

"You'll never find him," the man said arrogantly, making a careless gesture with his gun. The dark suited men around him stepped forward, some with guns and others holding iron chains. "And I don't intend to tell you. Now, if you want the little brat to stay breathing," Puck's eyes narrowed "your gonna be a good fairy and put on this nice little necklace here," an iron collar attached to more iron chain, "then I think you and I'll get along just fine."

"Don't do this, Eliot Staine," Puck warned, voice low. "It would be a mistake to get on the Puck's bad side."

"Puck huh?" the man grinned, even dared to laugh. "Of course I don't want to get on your bad side. I've seen your power," his eyes gleamed at the prospect. Puck knew his kind well. "I want nothing more than for you and me to be friends," Puck spat at the floor between Staine's shoes. The man's smile darkened. "But since that doesn't look likely, I'll settle for an obedient fairy pet."

"What must thou think of me," Puck rose slowly into the air above the mortals' heads as his voice grew loud and strong, "to believe I, once favored above all in Great Oberon's court, would play lap dog to a worm like you?" The men shift uncomfortably, tightening their grips on their guns. Their boss only bared his yellowing teeth in a vicious grin.

"I think your gonna be a good little elf or the kid dies."

"Very well," Puck lifted his chin, silver hair flowing around him in a breeze not felt by those below. "Now comes the time for us to fight," the Puck's eyes began to glow with power. Staine and his men stumbled back.

"No wait just a min-"

"But perhaps the sisters had it aright," Puck spoke over the man, crossing his index and middle fingers over his chest in an X over his breast. "Twas foolish, Staine, to make an enemy of me," his small body shown white, blinding the men below. "Where once was one, Puck now makes three."

"Wait!" Staine shielded his eyes with his arm, the iron collar dropping forgotten to the floor. The white figure above became wide, twisting and finally separated into three, equal in all ways, bodies.

The glow dimmed.

"Now that is better," a high, shrill voice not wholly unlike Puck's said cheerfully. Staine uncovered his eyes and looked up, sucking in air in shock.

Instead of the one fairy Staine had intended to capture there were now three hanging in the air above.

The one in the middle might have been the one Staine had wanted if its hair had been stripped of it's silvery shine. White hair flowed over thin shoulders, blue eyes bright and mischievous. To this one's right another sneered. Its hair might have been silver too, once upon a time but was now dark, as though stained with ash. Its eyes were wild and it looked at the human's below it with too much interest.

The third, on the white one's left, was silent, impassive, it's blue eyes disinterested. It's hair may too have once been silver but now glittered yellow, almost gold. The coldness with which it looked at Eliot made him tremble.

"Where'd he go?" the man asked, outraged. The three blinked down at him.

"Who?" they asked, the dissonance between the three voices, which might have been the same but for tone, startled the humans.

"Puck!" Eliot shouted. "Who else? The fairy I tricked here with Xanatos' brat! Where is my fairy and who," he glared at them "are you?"

"We are Puck," the one on the end narrowed it's eyes at them, the one in the middle grinned and darker one shrieked with laughter.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Eliot lifted his gun, intent on shooting at the creatures until they gave him what he wanted. The black haired fae flew to him, stopping only just before their noses touched.

"I am Puck," it said, voice wild and high as though it was only barely restraining itself from more peals of laughter. "I mislead night-wanders, laughing at their harm and frights the maidens of the villagery. Called also Hobgoblin, I am he."

Staine jerked back and the fae's laughter echoed around the room as it darted back to the ceiling. The pale blond one moved slowly down ward, it's movements deliberate, until its feet landed softly on the ground.

"I am Puck," it said, voice soft and cool. "I am that shrewd sprite and to those that call to me 'sweet Puck' I do their works and they have good luck. I am he."

The final fae flowed down, loose limbed as though dancing, it stopped by the golden one, not quite touching its fellow.

"I am Puck," it said, voice playful. "It is I that was jester to Oberon and made him smile. I oft times lurked in gossip's bowl called also Robin Goodfellow. I am he."

"This isn't what I wanted!" Eliot yelled. The golden haired one, sweet Puck, frowned at him. "I told you to put on the collar not fall all to pieces!" Robin tilted his head at Staine.

"Well what's the problem?" he asked, dancing slowly upwards again. The golden haired Puck watched him go with interest. "Surely three Pucks are better than one."

"You wished us to be friends," sweet Puck noted, arms crossing over his chest. The darker one, Hobgoblin, turned over, upside down in the air, and opened his arms wide.

"The more the merrier!" he grinned and if his teeth looked too sharp, too much like fangs, then Staine didn't notice; had not seen the teeth of the others to be able to compare.

"Boss," one of the men hesitantly touched Staine's shoulder. "Boss, I don't think-"

"Shut up!" Eliot snapped. "I don't pay you to think," the man fell back, silent.

"Your upset," Robin pouted down at the human. Eliot ground his teeth. "Tell Puck, what do you really want?"

"In exchange for the kid?" Staine was too busy staring at the white haired fae to notice the looks the other two gave him. "I want you to be my pet. My servant."

The fae flew toward each other, varying degrees of frowns on their faces.

"Is that all?" the pale blond asked, clicking his tongue.

"I thought humans were supposed to be fun," Hobgoblin groused.

"Come now Staine," the white haired of the three said reasonably. "You've incited the anger of David Xanatos and threatened Puck with iron and this is what you ask of him? Shall Puck make himself into a dog to whine at you and soil your carpets for all your mortal life?"

"No! I want your power!" Eliot finally snapped. Above him the three shared a smile.

"Power?" asked one.

"Certainly we can give you power," said another.

"Well," the blond one corrected softly, "for a certain definition of 'give'."

"And he'll want a demonstration first, of course."

"Of course."

The room turned cold.

"Very well Staine," the trio turned their backs to each other in a triangle, still not quite touching. "As you will it."

"Foolish mortal who would have Puck as slave," the white haired one's eyes shone green and bright.

"And to Xanatos and his bride pain he gave," the blond continued, his own eyes lighting up. The walls of the room seemed to bleed out their color, the stains becoming just another shade of grey on the concrete.

"Stop!" Eliot screamed. "I order you to stop!"

"A lesson in power we grant you for free," the dark haired one's mouth twisted in an ugly grin.

"A night of much learning," they intoned together. Staine felt a wind pull at his clothes. "So. Say. We."

"Don't just stand there!" Staine turned on his men, shouting. "What are you waiting for?" the color had left everything but the men and the magic creatures above them, leaving the walls, floors and furniture all flat shades of grey. "Shoot them!"

The men startled, lifted their weapons and fired into empty air.

"Find them! I want those freaks caught!"

(Line Break)

Finding the Pucks turned out not to be the hard part.

"This isn't right," Jimmy Carson muttered, holding his gun tight.

"Shut up," on of the other three men hissed under his breath.

"This is a warehouse," Jimmy insisted, the panic rising in his voice. "There shouldn't be this many hallways. I know there weren't this many rooms."

"Shut up," the man snapped again.

"Oh, he's right you know," a voice calmly informed them. The group turned as one, guns raised, facing the white haired magic creature floating slightly above them. It opened its arms, shrugging unapologetically. "We may have been playing with the local geometry, just a bit."

"But only to give you fair chance!" A streak of black streaming hair was their only warning as the three men were knocking back onto the ground by the dark Hobgoblin darting up through the floor at their feet. "Run fast enough and you just might get away!"

"You did remember to add an exit, didn't you?" the largest of the men stood first, and twisted around. The fair golden one, sweet Puck, watched the dark and white dancing in the air.

"Was that important?"

"Whoops. Our mistake," Robin shrugged and that distracted the three of them... for enough.

While Jimmy and the largest of the three, Jonathan, were still stunned, on the ground and now weaponless, this third man - destined to die nameless as far any of the Puck's were concerned - reached out and snatched the blond fae by the neck, holding his gun to the small figure's head.

"Get down here!" he was the fastest thinking of the three grunts and the quickest to recover from shock. Jimmy and Jonathan slowly got up, groping around for their own guns while high above Black and White stared down. "You'll turn yourself over to Staine or I kill your friend!" They didn't move. If anything, Robin and Hobgoblin merely smirked. "Kill one I kill you all right? I said get down here now!"

"You picked the wrong one to play with," white Robin pouted. Beside him Hobgoblin snickered.

"Oh yes. He's no fun at all."

Under his hand the small shape of the golden Puck twisted, shifted and grew. Eyes wide, the man gripping him stumbled back, letting go.

Tall now, with glasses and wearing a charcoal suit, the figure wrapped his own hand around the man's throat.

"I'm not one for fun," Owen said coolly as his hand tightened. Eyes bulging the man struggled against truly inhuman strength. "Not one bit."

"Stop!" Jimmy rushed the pair, just as the man in Owen's grasp stopped struggling. Robin intercepted. "Leave him alone and you can go! You can all-"

"Giving up already?" the fae asked with a pout. "But we've only just begun! Oh... looks like your friend is finished playing too."

The man stared with cold, freshly dead eyes back at Jimmy as a line of blood and drool dried on his chin. With a motion of disgust, Owen dropped him.

"P-please. Please don't-"

"And now begging!" Hobgoblin crowed. "How pathetic. How weak."

"You're a very small man," white Puck slipped a finger under Jimmy's chin, forcing the other man to meet his glowing eyes. "Aren't you?"

And the Pucks started to grow. Taller and taller until the finger that had him under the chin slipped away, bigger than his head.

"Oh God, Jimmy..." a voice boomed nearby and Jimmy turned to watch Jonathan grow too. Bigger and bigger and bigger.

No, he realized with his mouth open wide in a scream, they weren't getting bigger. He was getting smaller.

"Bye bye!" High above, Hobgoblin was a dark mass in the sky. Jimmy, terrified, ran. "Look at him go! It's like watching a lost ant try to find it's way back to the hive!"

"Now for you," Owen turned his gaze from the floor. The last of the three hunters was by no means a small man, but he backed away, hunched and timid, from that gaze. "Whatever is to be done with you?"

Jonathan didn't answer. Jonathan turned and ran, the sound of Hobgoblin's cackling followed him down the hall.

"Time to play! I say we split up and meet back at... Staine?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me~"

"Best idea you've ever had."


End Note: When Demona summoned Puck through Titania's Mirror, Alexander hadn't been born yet and she wasn't directly threatening David or Fox. In my opinion this was very, very fortunate for her but she did insult him and Puck knew darn well what making her human during the day would be for her. Says something about him that he did it anyways and apparently out of anger, don't you think?

More importantly for this segment: Staine didn't summon Puck and Puck isn't bound in iron chains therefore Puck has no incentive to even pretend to be cooperative.

The HoN reference wasn't a challenge, I just couldn't think of a better way to end that little segment.