A/N: Welcome to the BATTLE. Woot! In other news, tomorrow is my anniversary of being a member on ffnet for 3 years—hot dang! Fun fact: I was a lurker for about a year before that, and I had this fat little notebook where I wrote down all the stories that I would periodically check on for updates since I didn't have email, and I was SO obsessed—because I OBVIOUSLY am not obsessed now-coughcough- ahh, interesting times those were… anyway, read and review, please!!

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Wanda faced the dirty windowpane in her room, watching the vague reflections in it, and not the frightening clouds that were forming in the sky. From her distance and the dirt on the glass, there unfortunately wasn't much of him she could make out, but hey, she was still supervising somehow.

She almost couldn't believe herself. She was letting John dress himself, all by himself, and she was watching him through the shadowy reflections in the window. All she knew was that if she turned around and got involved in redressing him, then she would end up either hurting him, or doing something she would regret. Like touch him. Like talk with him. Like… like him.

He related to her. He knew what it was like for her, and a deep, very hidden, very secret part of her sort of, kind of, really liked him for that. Why wouldn't she appreciate that someone else sort of understood? But obviously that was a problem; she wasn't allowed to have any connections with him, other than the fact that he was her hostage and she was in charge of him for the time being. And soon, she was going to have to set him free because she was about to kill Magneto.

And after that, she should not care.

Wanda put her hand against a chest of drawers by the window, and she pulled the drawer open, to distract herself and see if there was anything of interest in there. Some old pictures… deodorant… a few writing utensils… a few lighters… Wanda glanced back at John quickly, to see if he was paying any attention to what she was doing. He was too busy trying to button up the buttons of the dressy-ish shirt she had given him. Dressy clothes were probably the only kind of clothes that the boys in the Brotherhood would not miss, and therefore, they were the best choice. And he didn't look half bad in them, either…

Shaking her head to bring her focus back to the drawer, Wanda snatched up a few of the lighters, examining them carefully as she remembered that these things were the key to John's mutant power. What if she needed his help or something while they were there? Perhaps it might be a good idea to bring one of these… and she was sure she had a few in here that had no metal in them, for the sole purpose of foiling Magneto.

Wanda pocketed a plastic lighter thoughtfully, and hearing the light shuffle of movement from John, she slammed the drawer loudly shut. "Are you finished, John?" she snapped, putting extra forcefulness into her voice to try and give him the message that even though she wasn't tying him up, she was still the boss.

"Yeah." Wanda nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt John's hand touch her shoulder, as if to signal to her that she could turn around. She scowled, clenching her fists instead of striking him; it was particularly difficult not to strike because he looked so damn amused at the fact that he had startled her.

"How's your nose?" she asked, taking his hand off of her shoulder and pulling it down by his side.

"Still hurts." John crossed his eyes to try and look at it, and Wanda made a soft sound that indicated that she thought he was being an idiot.

"Hmm." She scanned his body, feeling vaguely proud that she had found something around this place that fit him well, even if he did look out of place a bit. Wanda cleared her throat and snatched his hand again, tugging him gracelessly out of the room. "Come on." She was determined. This was her day.

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The outside world was bitter cold, and tiny flakes of snow were slowly drifting down to the ground, floating around the air aimlessly with the icy breeze. Lance's car was already chilly to the touch, though it couldn't have been very long that it had been snowing.

Wanda shoved John into the passenger seat, allowing him the privilege of buckling his own seatbelt and situating himself however he wanted. She sat in the driver's seat, buckled herself, adjusted the rearview mirror, and then glanced at John beside her, who was gripping onto the armrest with some level of unease apparent in his eyes.

"Are you afraid?" Wanda smirked at him, aiming the key for the ignition and missing.

John took a deep breath and shut his eyes, apprehensively noticing how many time it took her to find the ignition. "Nope," he said, sucking his top lip into his mouth. "Although I will admit that your lack of driving experience does make me a bit… edgy."

Wanda laughed as the key found the ignition, and they took off, driving over the curb on the way out of the parking lot.

The temperature dropped steadily as the day began to progress into the afternoon and the sky's light began to dim. This might have not bothered Wanda in the slightest if only Lance's jeep had been the kind that had a roof on it. She had no way of knowing how to attach the little sunroof thing on the top of the car, and so the freezing air began to really get to Wanda, and John as well, who began to shiver a few minutes before Wanda decided to do something about it.

"John," Wanda said authoritatively. "See if there's a blanket under the seat."

John obediently reached underneath the seat and pulled out a very large neon pink blanket adorned with even brighter green stars, something that Lance had probably gotten as a gift from Kitty. Wanda rolled her eyes at the sight of it; but as much as it hurt her retinas, she would have to deal with it, as it was probably below freezing out here. Before she could instruct John to do anything else, he unbuckled himself and reached around her, draping half of the blanket over her shoulders and effectively diminishing her goosebumps. He hesitated for a moment, and then scooted up close to her, his side grazing against hers as he pulled the other end of the blanket into himself, successfully enveloping the both of them in one big, blanket cocoon, with Wanda's arms sticking out, holding onto the steering wheel.

"John…" Wanda began, not quite sure of what she wanted to say; to go away, or to come closer?

"You gotta admit, it's a whole lot warmer this way," he told her, smiling and pulling the corner of the blanket up to cover the bottom half of his face.

"Just be quiet," Wanda murmured, not willing to admit anything of the sort. Especially because it was true.

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The house was exactly as John had described it, and Wanda felt a degree of pride at knowing that her advances on him were powerful enough to make him describe something that he wasn't supposed to describe in such detail.

It was a reddish brown tinted house, with the rusted numbers "471" peeling slightly off of the door's frame. The shutters were a navy blue color and one even looked like it was about to fall off of the hinges. It was a fairly run-down looking house in a fairly run-down looking neighborhood, and certainly was one of the last places she would have expected Magneto to stay.

Wanda drove past the house, not wanting to alert any of the residents in it by parking Lance's car right in the driveway. She parked at the other end of the street, just barely missing hitting a fire hydrant, and she glanced at John, who was slouched down and pressed against her side, and the only parts she could see of him were his sleeping eyes and his bright hair; the rest was covered up by the blanket.

It was snowing a bit harder by now, and the sky had become a dark grey color with no discernable clouds. Wanda could tell by the distant rumbles of thunder that some sort of a storm was on its way; not that it was a bad thing. It only aided her determination and the overall mood of the occasion.

"John, we're here," Wanda announced, rotating her shoulder to wake him. He mumbled to himself, and she prodded him lightly in the center of his forehead with her index finger. He didn't make any motion to show that he was awake. Mildly exasperated, and a little embarrassed that he had fallen asleep on her, she leaned forward, allowing him space to slump across the seat behind her.

"Hey," she said, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up; we're here."

She shook him lightly at first, but as she saw it had no effect on him, she began to shake him a bit more roughly until he groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes irritably.

"Can't I stay here?" John asked, as she opened the car door and climbed out.

"We don't have all day," Wanda said impatiently. "Come on out already."

"But…" John inclined his head. "Magneto is going to kill me. Have you no sympathy?"

"He is not," Wanda scoffed.

"He is!"

Wanda rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "John, come out here right now." John furrowed his brow in concern, but reluctantly obeyed. "I think you're being overly-dramatic."

He pouted. "I think you're not being dramatic enough! Don't you realize what I did? I told you where Magneto was, and I was sworn to secrecy. Not only that, but you've gotta be the worst person I could've ever told! You wanna kill the guy!" He gave an almost sad sigh. "I'm a dead man."

Momentarily ignoring the rant, Wanda hooked her arm into John's, physically pulling him down the sidewalk. He stumbled a bit on his way, as Wanda thought about what he had said. If it was true, then he would definitely need some sort of protection. And she was going to be preoccupied with killing Magneto, so she wouldn't be able to defend John if need be. And if for some reason she needed his help, then letting him have this could benefit her as well.

Wanda jammed her free hand into her pocket, touching the lighter in her pocket, thinking for only a moment. This was half a good idea and half a crazy, crazy idea. She suddenly whirled around, stopping so abruptly that John walked right into her, since she had been halfway leading him, and he nearly tripped backwards.

"We're not there yet," John said with a frown.

"I know," Wanda said, taking his hand and turning it over to expose his palm. She paused for a moment to examine it, though it wasn't necessary.

"Ummm…" John arched an eyebrow, appearing confused. "May I ask what you are doing?"

"You may," she turned her face up to his and lowered her voice as if she was trying to keep the wind from hearing her. "I have something for you."

He inclined his head, appearing very surprised and fairly pleased. "Really?"

"Yeah," Wanda pressed the plastic lighter into his open palm and curved her fingers over his to close his hand carefully into a loose fist. By the way his eyes widened and his lips parted, it was obvious that by touch, he knew exactly what the object was.

"Wanda…" he said weakly, his eyes filling with tremendous admiration.

"You're not allowed to use it unless something bad happens," Wanda instructed, feeling a tiny smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "It has no metal in it at all, so it will be safe."

"Oh," John smiled fondly at it, and then at her. Wanda expected him to verbally thank her or something similar. But that was not what he did. He seized her by her upper arms and before Wanda could think to react, his lips crashed against hers in a fierce, unexpected kiss. She gasped briefly in surprise, bringing her hands up and grabbing onto his upper arms, half intending to push him away, half intending to pull him closer. Her hands never managed to make up their mind in that particular battle, instead finding a comfortable place around his elbows, but her mouth managed to respond quite a bit before they broke apart.

Wanda stared at him for a long moment, feeling even the wind momentarily cease, waiting for her reaction. She licked her lips, which made John blush slightly. "What was that for?" she demanded, sounding angry, but her hands were still stationary on his upper arms, nullifying her voice's effect.

"I don't know," John shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "The heat of the moment, I suppose."

"Right," she rolled her eyes, smothering her smile the best that she could, as this was not the time for her to be getting all smiley and full of those unfamiliar feelings again. Right now was the time for focusing on The Goal. Get Magneto. Nothing to do with John.

Wanda removed herself from him, staring up determinedly at the reddish house that Magneto was in, only a few feet away now. She hooked her arm into John's again, beginning to approach the front of the house.

"Wait a minute," John said, stopping suddenly and almost pulling Wanda backwards because of her velocity. He continued, ignoring the death glare he was getting. "What exactly are you intending on doing here? You can't just ring the bell and expect to be let in."

Wanda paused, still giving him that angry look although she knew that he was absolutely right. She frowned, not wanting to have to ask him for his opinion, while knowing it would be very valuable in this situation. There was a brief silence.

"Is there like a secret entrance or something I should know about?" Wanda asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"No." John hesitated, not wanting to repeat what he wasn't supposed to say in the first place. "He's… he's in the basement, remember?"

Wanda stared at him, tapping her foot impatiently. "And?"

He arched an eyebrow. "In most houses that have a basement, there's a window in the back of the house, so you can escape it in case of fire."

"I see," Wanda nodded meditatively, altering her path. The two of them were quiet as they made it to the back of the house, and Wanda crouched down beside the window, noticing how big it was. This whole house was rather large overall. Wanda glanced at John beside her, who was pressing his lips together.

"There he is," John whispered, pointing at the glass.

And there he was. Magneto was sitting on an old, faded looking couch, watching a tiny TV. He looked like any ordinary man, just watching TV in a living room by himself, with a can of diet soda in his hand. That bastard.

Wanda squinted, feeling the rage inside begin to grow, and suddenly, the glass of the window cracked. Wanda instinctively ducked down, knowing that Magneto would look, but John remained upright, very visible to the Master of Magnetism.

"John!" she hissed. "Get down, dammit!"

"No, I've got an idea," he said, waving at the window to his boss. "Just pay attention to what I say, and you can get him easy."

"John…"

"Shhh…"

The window suddenly flew open, and Wanda held her breath. She was right underneath the windowsill. She was within touching distance of John's body; she was just below the worst man in the universe.

"Pyro!" Magneto bellowed. "What the hell are you doing here? What is this crap I hear about you letting yourself get kidnapped by Wanda? That is not what I expect from one of my own Acolytes. Did you escape, or did she give up?"

"Neither, sir," John said calmly.

Wanda could tell that Magneto was giving him perhaps the same death glare she had given John a few minutes ago. "Well, how did you get here then?" he snapped.

"Well," John puckered his lips thoughtfully. "I actually told Wanda that you were here. She's here right now to get you."

"WHAT?!" Magneto roared, reaching out of the window and angrily snatching John up by the front of his shirt. Wanda stared up at John, unable to believe what was going on. She didn't know what she would do if he betrayed her position to help Magneto out. Oh, if he did… he would never rest peacefully; it would be a worse fate than what she intended for Magneto.

"Yes, sir…" John's voice was small, and Wanda could see one of Magneto's hands reach out and squeeze his neck, cutting off his air, strangling him. Just like Wanda had, except Magneto was probably not going to change his mind halfway through. "As I speak… she's at the front door." Wanda frowned up at John as he breathed with difficulty. "She's gonna… break it down… and come after you. You'd… better come out…"

Wanda felt a feeling akin to her heart jumping up. John wasn't going to tell on her; he was making it easier. She could have kissed him right then… if it weren't for the situation.

"You'd better come out…" his face was turning a dark, unhealthy red. "If you don't want to get killed… come out this window, here."

Wanda shut her eyes, focusing her energy on the front door. There was a terrible pause… and then the satisfying sound of the front door crashing as it crumbled to pieces.

Magneto suddenly released John, letting him fall onto his back on the cold grass. John made no attempt to get back up, and Magneto cursed under his breath.

"Dammit…" There was a shuffling sound, and then Wanda saw his leg stick out the window, as he began to climb out of it. Swallowing her sympathy for John, she began to quietly conjure up a large, electric blue hex bolt. This one was going to be for her childhood, for all the hurt she had ever endured at the hands of those dreadful doctors, and for all the things that John had been through as a combined result of it and her desire for vengeance.

Magneto stepped onto the ground outside, scowling down at John as if he had the plague. John turned his face, and made eye contact with Wanda, who got to her feet, clenching and unclenching her fists, which were enveloped in blue.

Noticing John's gaze, Magneto turned around.

"Hello, father," Wanda said, throwing her arms out and blasting him with the very large bolt of energy. Magneto fell flat on his back, and hastened to get back up.

"Wanda!" he gasped, sounding positively furious. "What're you—but Pyro said—"

"Oops." Wanda smirked. "Just kidding."

Magneto raised his own hands into the air, trying to gather any metal in the area, anything on her person… but Wanda had been prepared.

"Wanda, listen to me," Magneto said, backing away slowly, sounding the tiniest bit panicked. Wanda had turned off his power somehow, and he could not pull anything metallic from inside the house, either. "You don't want to do this."

"You can't tell me what to do!" Wanda yelled, approaching him like he was some sort of filthy insect that needed to be squashed. "Did you listen to me when I told you I didn't want to be put away? Why should I listen to you now?"

"I am still your father," Magneto declared, seeming increasingly intimidated as she came closer and closer.

"You are nothing!" Wanda shouted. "I don't owe you a thing!"

Suddenly, Wanda heard a soft murmur somewhere nearby, and in one tiny moment of concern, she glanced over at John, who was still splayed on the grass, his hand touching his forehead like it hurt. In that tiny moment, Wanda was distracted, and Magneto summoned the can of soda he had been drinking, expanded it, and knocked Wanda off her feet with it. Magneto climbed on top of the now expanded piece of metal, taking off into the dark sky.

"No!" Wanda sat up on her knees, raising her arms to the heavens, trying to focus on making it storm harder than the current freezing winds and mild snow. She wanted it to hail and thunder and become miserable out here. She wanted him to be stricken by lightening.

Wanda glanced over to John again, watching him stagger to his feet as if he was drunk, one hand bracing himself against the wall of the house. He thrust the other hand in the air, almost as if he was pointing something at the fleeing form of Magneto. A huge burst of flame came from his hand, shooting upwards in the air, one long, fiery beam that struck Magneto and made him visibly stumble on top of the metal platform he had made for himself. Wanda focused her energy on weakening the metal, while John prodded at him with the fire, and in an instant, Magneto began to fall to the ground.

There was a loud splatting sound as Magneto fell back to earth, and Wanda heard the thunder in the sky. Thunder was good; it was part of what she wanted. She curled her fingers up in the air, like there was an invisible ball in her hand, and there was a loud crack from the heavens, a bolt of lightening, lighting up the empty neighborhood like the sun might, and then everything was quiet.

The world was quiet. Even the wind ceased. Approaching, Wanda nudged her father's body with her toe, and there was nothing. No response of any kind. She could not even see the rise and fall of his chest. He was not breathing.

A dead silence.

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This is the rhythm of the night!

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