Summary: A glimpse into Anti-Cosmo's childhood reveals that he wasn't always the bold and cunning leader well known today.

Remember when I said that I would be showing what Anti-Cosmo and Kitty are up to, while the Bassinets are on tour? Well, I'm doing that now! Just to forewarn you, these episodes are going to be much darker. The band stuff is more or less a reprieve from the story arc. Also, it just donned on me that this episode has very little humor. If any at all. Certain parts you might funny. Either way, this one starts out pretty serious and then gets really, really fluffy toward the end.

Oh, yeah! Partial credit goes to FountainPenguin, whose depiction of Anti-Cosmo (story: "130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash" prompt: Not All the Same) kind of inspired my depiction of Anti-Cosmo, and it does kind of fit in with what I have planned. Basically, I have a lot of hell planned for him, because I'm a terrible person! XD

Trigger Warning: Panic attacks

Episode Required Before Reading: Down the Rabbit Hole

Separation Anxiety

"Make me a promise that time won't erase us, that we were not lost from the start." - Still Here, Digital Daggers

Roughly ten thousand years ago…

"Dude, stop eavesdropping, and let's play some Scrabble. You love words that no one else in the room knows."

His big brother wasn't technically correct. It wasn't that Anti-Cosmo loved the words. It was more that he was smarter than most people and didn't even realize it until his own father had asked him what "circumlocution" was (an attempt at evasiveness using excessively long-winded phraseology, duh). Moreover, the anti-toddler just...couldn't really stop himself from using words with more than three syllables. He was getting better at using smaller words, but…

Anti-Schnozmo's nasally voice brought him back to the present. "Come on, AC." He gestured to the board on the floor, the familiar alphabet tiles spread haphazardly around it. "Scrabble. Words that no one knows. Poofing up dictionaries to prove that those words really exist. Come on. You love beating me at this game."

Ah, a true statement at last. But, Anti-Cosmo knew that he wouldn't be able to focus due to his two-year-old attention span.

That, and the fact that his and Anti-Schnozmo's mother had paid an unexpected visit to the castle. The boys' parents had been divorced for a few months now, so neither really understood what the woman was doing here. One thing was certain: Their father had locked them in their shared bedroom, under strict orders to stay there until he came to get them, and there was definitely a reason.

Hence why Anti-Cosmo ignored his brother's urgings and continued pressing his ear against the door in a desperate attempt to hear their parents.

"Seriously, I don't think you should be-"

"Hush, dear brother," Anti-Cosmo hissed.

"I'm just worried about… You know. You have that...thing."

Thing? Oh. Ugh. Readjusting his glasses, Anti-Cosmo turned to face his concerned sibling. "Anti-Schnozmo, we've been over this. I don't have 'anxiety problems.' And, anyway, assuming these problems even exist - which they do not - the doctor says I'll grow out of them. Barring any unforeseen childhood trauma or something, but what are the odds of that?"

"Where in the name of Beelzebub do you think you're going?"

That was their father's voice, and it was close and not happy. The boys froze and stared nervously at the door.

"I'm saving my son from that green-eyed reject!"

That was their mother. Anti-Cosmo could tell mostly because of them term "green-eyed reject." It hurt every time she said it. He couldn't help that the eyes of himself and his counterpart were the same!

The door suddenly exploded, sending shards of black wood showering over the boys. Their mother flew into the room, her expression completely blank, as she ignored her ex-husband's cry of, "Did you just blow up the door?"

"Anti-Schnozmo, darling," she stated firmly. "It's time I got you away from this...virus."

Anti-Schnozmo flew protectively in front of his younger sibling. "What virus? Everything's fine!"

Their father grabbed their mother by her shoulders and tried to yank her out of the room. "Anti-Bethany, let's discuss this away from the boys." The way he said "discuss" heavily implied that he wasn't afraid to physically destroy her.

Mom wriggled out of his grip. "Anti-Schnozmo, you're coming home!"

Anti-Schnozmo gritted his teeth. "I am home!"

"I mean, I'm taking you away from this creature you dare to call a brother."

Anti-Cosmo didn't miss the way his father's ruby-red eyes changed to glowing red snake eyes. He was definitely on the verge of non-corporeal magic, and it was never pretty when that happened. "Don't speak that way about your own son!"

Mom made a sound that was between a scoff and a gag. "That thing is not my son! I've known it since the moment he was born." Her red eyes, so dark that they were almost black, narrowed dangerously at her trembling green-eyed son. "I see it in your eyes, you parasite. There's something seriously wrong with you. Something evil. I don't know what you are, but you-"

Dad grabbed her by the arm, and she cried out in pain. Anti-Cosmo could smell the burning of flesh, as his father used some kind of fire spell or something. Dad let go of her, leaving a hand-shaped brand on her arm. "I think we should continue this discussion away from the boys. This is not a suggestion, Anti-Bethany."

"I'm not going anywhere until I know my Anti-Schnozmo is safe from that monstrosity!"

Before anyone had time to react, Mom sent a blast from her wand that sent Anti-Cosmo slamming against the wall. The feeling was too painful for words, and the toddler knew a lot of words. Dropping face-first from the wall to the floor didn't help. He forced his head to lift up and tried to see what was happening. Suddenly, he wished that the blast had knocked him unconscious. His glasses were broken, and everything was a big, colorful blur, but he could kind of tell what was going on. Dad was trying to force Mom out of the room, for he never liked his sons to see him at his full power, mostly because it was often accompanied by rage, and he couldn't always control himself when he was particularly angry. But, Mom wouldn't have it, as she had taken hold of a struggling Anti-Schnozmo and refused to let go and kept saying that "that monster should be destroyed!"

Then, Anti-Cosmo's shaking became worse, and sweat beaded on his face. Everything was falling apart. He was falling apart. Something was wrong with him. His chest hurt and his heart was pounding and he couldn't breathe and what was happening to him was he sick was he dying did his mother's magic do this why couldn't he think straight why was everything spinning so much?

The toddler was too invested in his own distress to know that his eyes had turned into green snake eyes. He could see objects moving, but without his glasses, he had no idea what was actually going on. His panic kept him from noticing the raw magic radiating from him, how it sent every inanimate object in the room into the air and swirling like the twister from The Wizard of Oz.

I feel it. All of his horror, his confusion. I feel all of it, and it sends me in a frenzy. He needs me, but I am trapped in this miserable realm. I have felt him since the moment he was born. I knew… I knew it was him. And, now he is in pain, and I cannot help him! I pull my hair and scream and bang on the walls of my prison, as my mind fogs over with fear and worry. I call for him, I curse the ones who trapped me here, but all I am doing is frightening the other prisoners with my cries. I hope with every fiber of my being that he can hear me, that he knows I am here and that he knows that he is not alone, that he was never alone and never will be alone.

But, I know that he does not remember me, and that thought shifts my fury into sorrow, and I fall to my knees, sobbing.

Present time...

Anti-Cosmo shot up in bed. His heart was running at a million miles per hour, and he was drenched in sweat. Where was he? A small, nervous voice spoke his name, and something gently landed on his shoulder. He jolted away in panic and turned to see an unfamiliar black-furred creature kneeling beside him.

It seemed almost as frightened as he was. "It-It's okay. It's just me, Kitty. Your Spirit Guide."

Spirit Guide? Yes. Yes, he remembered her now. He reached over to the nightstand and fumbled for his monocle. He shakily put it on and surveyed his surroundings. He finally recognized his bedroom. He was home. He was safe.

Wait, the bed was too empty. Something else was wrong. "A-Anti-Wanda?" he squeaked, frantically searching the room. "Anti-Wanda?"

"She's on tour with Foop and his friends, remember?" Kitty asked gently.

Oh, right. His memories were slowly coming back to him, but they did nothing to calm his pulse.

Kitty's green eyes were filled with worry and sympathy. "Have your night terrors always been this frequent?"

"Not since recently," he answered, placing a hand over his heart, as though that might somehow slow it's erratic beating. Anti-Cosmo was no stranger to night terrors, but they used to be few and far between. This was his second one this month, and he'd had others not long before the summer started.

Kitty cautiously inched closer to him. "Do you remember what it was about?"

Anti-Cosmo forced himself to think it over. He remembered an anti-fairy baby and someone wanting to help it… "I think… Um, it may have been about Foop. I-I think something happened to him."

Kitty nodded. "Wait here." She morphed into a purple smoke cloud and flew out of the room. Less than a second later, she returned, shifting back into cat-form and handing him his cellphone. "Why don't you call him? That way you'll know if he's okay."

Come to think of it, was Foop okay? What if that dream was some kind of warning? Anti-Cosmo immediately pushed the thought aside. He was an anti-fairy, not a prophet. Still, the parental fear was on his mind now… He sighed. "Kitalianna, it's the middle of the night."

Kitty just shrugged and shoved the phone into his clammy hands. Anxiety won over reason (and sanity but mostly reason), and Anti-Cosmo dialed his son. Each ring made him more nervous, but just when he was convinced that something was wrong, his son picked up.

"What?" said the groggy voice.

Anti-Cosmo felt both relieved and guilty. "Uh, it's Dad. Sorry to wake you, dear boy."

"What?" Foop repeated in the same annoyed tone.

"I just…" Now, how to phrase this in a way that did not sound pathetic? He sighed, deciding that such a way most likely did not exist. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

There was pause on the other end, the only sound being the quiet creak of what was probably a bed. "Another night terror?"

Anti-Cosmo nodded then remembered that his son couldn't see him. "I'm afraid so. I think something happened to you in it, so..." He forced out a small chuckle. "How paranoid am I, right?"

Foop yawned. "Hang on." To Anti-Cosmo's surprise, he hung up the phone and poofed in front of his father on the bed. Still clad in his skull-print pajamas and clutching Skull Beary - the plush skeletal bear that Anti-Cosmo had passed down to him - in one hand and his bottle in the other, the boy looked irritated, which he probably was, but concerned at the same time, in that way that only he could manage. "Look, Dad. I'm here. I'm alive. Nothing bad happened to me. I'm fine."

Anti-Cosmo smiled slightly, finally starting to relax a little and noticing that Kitty was leaving to give them some privacy. "What about your mother?"

"She's fine, too. I would have brought her, but, as you know, the woman can sleep through a nuclear war." Anti-Cosmo smiled wider at the very true statement. Foop suddenly seemed uncomfortable, as he dropped his bottle in favor of hugging Skull Beary to his chest. "Do you, uh… You know… Do you, like, want me to spend the night, or anything…?" Anti-Cosmo started at the suggestion. "I mean, it's not like I want to. I-It would be entirely for your benefit. I mean, it's clear that you need me, and you're not gonna feel better unless- Uh, you know what? Forget it. It's a dumb idea. I'll just poof back to-"

"No, no, dear boy," Anti-Cosmo interjected. The weight in his chest was completely gone now. He patted the space beside him. "I don't mind at all. But, we should probably poof up a note saying where you are. Just in case the others wake up before you do."

Foop smiled. He picked up his bottle, and its nipple glowed as he did just that. Then, he dropped the bottle again, crawled to his father's side and, once again pleasantly surprising him, snuggled into his chest, Skull Beary squished between them. "We can share Skull Beary tonight. Or, not. Whatever makes you stop whining faster. I-I don't particularly care." Heart swelling with affection, Anti-Cosmo wrapped his arm around his only son and held him close. "Just...don't tell anyone about this. I'll lose my street cred."

Anti-Cosmo couldn't help an eye roll at that. "Understood, dear boy. Kitty, I know you're watching us." The guilty Spirit Guide froze from where she was peering in through the doorway. "You can sleep in here too, if you like." He thought he felt Foop tense up but decided that it was his own imagination.

"I-I don't want to intrude," Kitty said bashfully.

"Nonsense, dear girl. We don't mind at all, do we, Foop?"

Foop pressed his face into his plush toy's head, hiding his expression. "Whatever gets me to sleep quicker," was his muffled response.

Anti-Cosmo briefly wondered about the boy's sudden change in attitude but chalked it up to the fact that, well, he had woken the boy up at around midnight. "Come on, dear girl. I want to sleep with my favorite kids tonight." Smiling, Kitty flew to Anti-Cosmo's other side and curled up beside him. He rolled on to his back and wrapped an arm around both children. Foop grunted and scowled deeper. Anti-Cosmo raised an eyebrow at his son. "Something wrong?"

Foop yawned. "Just don't wake me up again."

"I'll take that as a 'goodnight,'" Anti-Cosmo responded good-naturedly.

Kitty giggled sleepily. "Night, night."

All three of them had pleasant dreams that night.

"When I awake, you disappear back to the shadows with all I hold dear."- Still Here, Digital Daggers

The End

I did research on panic attacks and night terrors, and I hope they turned out accurate. Anti-Cosmo having them may or may not seem OOC, but canon doesn't really give us anything about his personal life, so I feel justified. Besides, it ties into the story arc. I regret nothing. Review!