Nessa looked up as she heard the heavy door to her cell creak open.

"Are you ready to face the people, my dear?"

Ten minutes later, and Nessa found herself chained to a wooden stake that was up on a platform a few feet off the ground.

A witch being burned at the stake. How typical, and very unoriginal.

The citizens of Oz had gathered in the Emerald City square to watch the witch meet her end. Their displeasure with her was made clear through their angry shouts, and repeated calls for her death.

"Nessarose Thropp, you have been found guilty of being wicked, and conspiring against the throne of Oz. Because of this, you have been condemned to death," Morrible said. She looked up at the brunette. "Do you have any remorse for your actions?"

Nessa rolled her eyes and looked away from the grand vizier. "I don't regret anything."

"I figured as much. May the Unnamed God have mercy on your wicked soul."

And with a snap of her fingers, the wood at Nessa's feet ignited, and black smoke rose into the air. The brunette looked back at Morrible, and refused to give her the satisfaction of crying out for mercy, or in pain. She would die shamelessly.

Glinda watched as the flames grew, eating up the dry wood. She didn't want to watch Nessa burn to death, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Why did it always have to end in death? The blonde decided to try and save Nessa's life one last time.

"Madame Morrible, is this really necessary? Are her crimes really deserving of this?" Glinda asked.

"She tried to bring down the throne of Oz."

"She tried to kill you! That's what this is really about, isn't it?"

"I think you've said enough."

"You're not doing this for Oz, you're doing this for yourself!"

"I said, that's enough, Miss Glinda. Silence."

Glinda looked at Nessa, and saw that the brunette was looking right back at her. The blonde felt helpless. There was nothing she could do, and Nessa seemed to know that. Glinda found that she was frightened by the fact that Nessa had already resigned herself to death, and wasn't going to try and fight it anymore.

Oliver watched as the smoke started to get to Nessa, causing her to begin coughing. This was his fault. He had given Nessa up, and now she was going to die because of him. This wasn't right, why was he just standing here and watching this?

Oliver turned to leave. He wouldn't watch them kill Nessa.

The time to act is now. Do something.

The guard inhaled and turned back around. He raised his rifle, aimed, and shot. A scream traveled through the citizens as they ducked. The bullet struck Nessa's chains, and the brunette fell to the ground.

"Nessa!" Glinda said, quickly pulling the brunette from the danger of the fire. She retreated to the edge of the platform, holding the witch close. "Nessa, can you hear me?"

Before anyone else could react, Oliver jumped onto the platform, his rifle aimed at Morrible. The other guards had their rifles aimed at him.

"Drop your weapons, or the Wizard's grand vizier is dead," Oliver said.

The guards exchanged looks, but dropped their weapons on the ground. Oliver glanced at the two witches beside him.

"Get her out of here," he told the blonde.

Glinda looked up. "What about you?"

"Just go! Make sure she's safe."

Glinda knew it was useless to argue, so she put a bubble around her and the witch and disappeared.

"You just assisted a fugitive in escaping," Morrible said.

"I know what I did."

Morrible approached him slowly. "You don't want to do this. Not after the Wizard just pardoned you."

"Don't come any closer!"

"Or what? You'll shoot me? You wouldn't dare pull that trigger."

"I wouldn't pull it for me… but I would for Nessa."

A shot rang out, and Oliver turned and fled.

"After him! Kill him! Don't let him get away alive!"

Oliver ran for all he was worth, trying to lose the army that was chasing him. They fired at him, and Oliver managed to just barely avoid the bullets. He was so intent on escaping that he didn't notice the hill in front of him. The ex-guard lost his footing on the loose dirt and tumbled down the hill, unable to slow or stop himself. He landed in the river at the bottom, knocked unconscious when his head hit a rock. The swift current quickly swept him downstream, and he soon washed up on a grassy bank, safe from his pursuers, but still in danger.

"Nessa. Nessa, look at me!"

No matter how hard she tried, the blonde just couldn't get a response. The brunette wouldn't open her eyes, and her pulse was too weak for Glinda to feel. The good witch feared that while Nessa had been spared from the flames, the smoke had gotten to her.

Glinda looked up fearfully. Darkness had settled over the land of Oz, and Glinda knew that Morrible must have sent the witch hunters out to find them, because now the blonde was a fugitive too. By helping Nessa, she had condemned herself as well.

A small vine suddenly wrapped around her wrist, and Glinda let out a small shriek. She heard coughing, and looked down to see Nessa's eyes opening weakly.

"Nessa…"

The brunette looked up. "Funny. The afterlife doesn't look at all like what I had imagined."

"You're not dead. Oliver saved you."

"He betrayed me so he could save me? I was already interested; he didn't have to go to such lengths."

"Nessa, please stop making this into a joke. It's very serious."

"Oh, I was being serious. Couldn't you tell?" the brunette said as she sat up. "Did anyone happen to grab my shoes while we were making our great escape?"

"Is that all you can think about right now? Shoes?"

"Look who's talking, Miss Fashionista."

"Did you just make that word up?"

"Yes."

The blonde scowled. "Nessa, let me go so we can figure out our next move."

"Hold on there. We? Our? There is no we, or our."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't work well with people. I'm a little bit of a control freak, in case you haven't noticed by now."

"We can't separate, not now that we're both fugitives."

"You may be a fugitive. I'm a witch. And as one, I prefer to work alone. Makes things much easier."

"Oh, really?" the blonde spat. "And just how do you expect to do anything without the aid of your shoes?"

"Minor setback, but that can be fixed easily enough."

"How do you figure? Your shoes are in the palace; set one foot in the Emerald City and you're a dead witch."

"Well, then, if you really want to help me, then you can get my shoe for me."

"I can't go back, not after what I did for you."

"And what exactly have you done for me?"

"I saved your life!"

"You should have let me die! Death would have been an easy out; now I can't rest until Morrible is dead! This is the second time she's tried to kill me, and almost succeeded!"

The two would have continued their argument if they hadn't heard two familiar voices. Two very familiar voices.

"You idiot, we're lost again."

"We are not lost!"

"Then where are we?"

"… That has yet to be determined."

"We are lost!"

The two people emerged from the brush, and stopped dead in their tracks.

"Oh, sweet Oz…"

"Holy shiz."

Silence, then two voices in perfect unison.

"You're not dead?"