A/N: I've had this idea since around chapter 2 of Little Dunce, but wasn't able to write it since it wouldn't make sense due to the ending still not being published, which is why that last chapter was so rushed and forced. I'm really not proud of it, and will definitely rewrite/add to it, and maybe even the whole fic, if I ever get the mojo to.

This fic also takes place during/after Bonds Of The Elements through Time, but it can probably still be understood without reading it. The comic kids will also make appearances because I want to do something with them and don't feel like coming up with a bunch of OCs.

Running. He'd been caught. Her hands grasping for him, barely missing. He wouldn't last much longer like this. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape from her.

Still, he doesn't want his efforts to go to waste. Sure, he was only helping them to save his own skin, but he was still determined to succeed. He tries to yell for the three children to run, but no sound escapes. Then he's being grabbed, being hoisted, up, up.

Did he really deserve this? Wasn't this a bit of a harsh punishment for escaping detention? Or maybe she knew. Maybe she knew he had been helping them. The Teacher lets go.

Dunce wakes up with a start, a loud, squeaking gasp rattling through him. He doesn't need to breathe, given that his head is made of porcelain, but it's something he's always done. They all had.

His vision returned to him shortly after. He can't close his eyes seeing as he doesn't have eyes, so it's even more unbearable when harsh, yellow light pierces his empty sockets. He yelps in discomfort, slamming his hands hard over his face. His intact, perfectly solid face.

That's when Dunce remembers exactly what had happened to him. He had died. The Teacher had killed him. So how…

He had heard that some people thought there was something after death, before. Some Bullies had used it to console themselves if someone they had less distain for than others had been smashed. Some had even used the theory to help themselves cope with a child's death. Bullies never intended to kill their victims, after all. It was all just a little fun, to cope with the boredom of constantly being at the School. But Bullies played rough. They could be forgetful. Accidents happened.

Dunce groaned. He wouldn't get anywhere if he just sat here; he needed to investigate. So being careful to not move impulsively for once in his life, Dunce slowly removed his hands from his sockets, noting the griminess of them as he lowered them to his chest, and gasped again. This time, it was in awe.

He was staring up at the sky. But not the grey sky he had seen from the School windows; this was a vibrant blue, with a few white puffy clouds dotted here and there. It looked like a drawing in a picture book he'd looked at who knows how long ago, but the drawing couldn't possibly compare to the real thing. It was beautiful! And Dunce wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but even he knew what a glorious sight such as this meant.

"Out…side…" He spoke, his voice even more hoarse and gravely than usual. He wasn't sure why that was. Now that he was truly alert, the Bully could feel the sunlight on his skin, hear the rustling of trees and the occasional bird. Who cares if he was dead or not? He was away from the School, he was outside, he was stuck.

Now that he was paying attention to all his senses, Dunce could feel the weight of something vaguely cylindrical pressing down on his left ankle. As he sat up to get a better look at it, he could feel other lumpy, rounded things giving and shifting beneath him. What on Earth had he been lying on? Grumpily, he moves to free himself from the grasps of this strange pile, and freezes. Because, the thing pinning down his ankle? It was a leg.

A leg with the same pale skin as his, wearing the same brown shorts and black, leather shoe. Although he can't see the whole shoe because the toe is wedged under—oh, no! No, no, no, no!

It's a good thing Bullies don't eat, because Dunce is pretty sure he'd barf at that moment. Because he's come to realize just what, exactly, he was lying on. It was a massive pile comprised of nothing but the dead bodies of at least a hundred Bullies. They lay in twisted patterns of contorted joints, heads in various states of destruction, some of which completely detached, grimy hair peppered with porcelain shrapnel. And there Dunce was, the only live Bully, on the very top and center of the monstrosity, as though he were the king and this was his throne. The disgusting excuse for a mass grave sits in the center of a grassy clearing with trees on all sides. Barricaded from the world of the living.

Dunce tries to scream, but only a small squeak comes out. He has never been so terrified in his entire life, not even when being hunted down and thrown by The Teacher. Dunce shoves the dead Bully's leg off his and scrambles to get away from the corpses, sliding down the side of the pile in a heap of limbs and jingling porcelain. He lands face first in the damp grass with a thud.

For a moment he just lies there, gasping, his mind racing a mile a minute, grateful not to look at or touch the dead anymore. If the sight and feeling of them all around and under him wasn't seared into his memory, he could almost forget they were only about a foot away from him. At least they didn't stink.

After a few minutes of thought, Dunce decided that he mustn't actually be dead at all. Because if he were, the other Bullies would've been 'alive,' with him. Or maybe he was dead, but only for a moment. The Teacher had taken him out of The School, and brought him here. Where the other dead Bullies went. Tossed away, discarded like they were nothing. How he was back, or why, he had no idea. Nor could he be sure that that was even what had actually happened. But it was the best explanation he had, so Dunce went with it.

With that in mind, Dunce slowly pushed himself to his feet. He needed to take a look at himself and see if any lasting damage had been left on him after his 'death.' The first observation he made when he looked down at himself was that he was absolutely filthy. His white shirt was badly stained, shorts even more brown than before. Grainy porcelain dust clung to his vest; Dunce flicks as much as he can away with a shutter. Further examination of his person confirms that his black hair is the same shaggy, unruly mess as the others now was. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of how angry The Teacher would be about that, but stopped when his hand went further into his hair than it should've been able to. He had to fight back more waves of panic when he realized that there was now a large hole in the back of his head, slightly above where it attached to his neck. It wasn't as big as some holes in other living Bullies he'd seen, his hair could cover it, but it was a shocking find. And Dunce was surprised that it made him feel so squirmy inside.

Usually, cracked heads were something Bullies were proud of; it was seen as incredibly cool to survive something that was so easily fatal. But for Dunce, it just felt… like he lost something. But maybe that was only because there were no other Bullies alive to show off to.

The sense of loss was not helped when he had finished his examination, because it revealed to him that not only had he lost a big piece of his head, but he was also missing his hat. The dunce cap The Teacher had forced him to wear, that no matter how hard he pulled, it would never come off, it wouldn't even tear! It had worked as intended at first, humiliating him into working on his 'lines,' but then, when The Triple had set him free, and he went to rescue The Six with her and The mono… It had set him apart from the other Bullies; everyone knew who he was and what he'd done. It had even given him his name.

This, of course, ended up to be his downfall. That stupid Jennifor, that Teacher's pet who was always snitching on everyone, (though her eyes were conveniently turned away whenever a child was involved,) had snitched on him! She may as well have killed him, instead of The Teacher.

But despite all that, Dunce realized that he had come to really like that hat. So of course, it had to finally come off now, when it became a symbol of his rebellion, when losing it felt like losing a part of himself.

Dunce wondered where it could be. More than likely The Teacher had kept it to use on another Bully, as if any other would be worthy. But if there was any chance that it could still be here…

Dunce steeled himself, taking a deep breath. He really didn't want to touch the dead Bullies again, but he also really wanted his hat back. Eventually, the desire for his hat overruled his hesitation, and he made his way back to the pile, beginning to dig.

To distract himself from all the things that weren't his hat, Dunce let himself wonder. Everything felt so surreal, as though he was stuck in a nightmare. He also felt off in a way he never had before, inside. Like his feelings were larger than before, or he was just more aware of them.

How long had it been since he died? It could've been anywhere from a few hours to several years; he hoped it hadn't been that.

No sooner than he heard that thought, than a loud rumbling sound erupted from somewhere in the distance, but far too close for the lone Bully's liking. It wasn't quite like anything he'd ever heard before. He froze, listening hard.

The rumbling grew louder, but thankfully, it stopped while it was still fairly far from his location. Unfortunately, more noises followed, familiar ones. Distressing ones. Footsteps. Rustling through the grass, coming closer.

They sounded too large to be a Bully or child, was it The Teacher/ Was she coming back? Not even thinking about it, Dunce threw himself into the pile, whimpering at being surrounded by the dead once more. Still, he forced himself to remain as still and silent as possible, dreading what was to come. If it was The Teacher, Dunce hoped she wouldn't notice he had moved. If not, then he hoped whoever it was took no interest in him.

Whoever it was was approaching fast, and soon, they arrived in the clearing.