Author's Note: For some odd reason, probably because of everything going on at home, this took forever to do. Ah, well, I have two days off, I'll see if I can do better.
And those scene transitions, a thing of the past. As is the fact the website that hosts my stories will not allow their name to appear in my notes. I've noticed that as of late. (glowers) So, yeah, blame them.
Disclaimer: You know, it's amazing. I can watch FOP and listen to FOP music without thinking of this story, but typing it up or creating it with it in the background is impossible. At any rate, I don't own it. That was my point, I believe.
Chapter Twelve: Those in Need
Tootie never thought she'd had a worse day in her life. Okay, so the missions were a close second, but this had to be the worst day in her universe. First waking up to Timmy's accusations, then more accusations, followed by a slap courtesy by her older sister, succeeded by a near understanding between her and Timmy, followed by the foulest treatment she'd ever endured from him.
This was why she was walking home. Okay, so it took longer- she didn't care. She needed to be by herself and limp home, wounds reopening and all. At least when she was alone, no one could hurt her.
From behind her, Tootie discerned Mark and Vicky, talking jovially. Recalling Vicky's last reaction to her, it would be best if she weren't seen. But where to hide?
The only option, as far as she could see, was a bush to her right. Nevertheless, it was too high for her to easily hurdle over, when one took into account her stomach. Still, it had to be preferable to another beating today. After all- one had opened up her whip wounds, who could say what the next one would do?
Whimpering softly, Tootie propelled herself across after a running start, gasping as the thorns caught her midway, wrenching the gash. So much for a simple escape, now she'd be lucky to avoid fainting.
Fortunately, Mark decided to show Vicky his abilities to cut a sharp turn, leaving Tootie alone. Now she had to get home, if she could.
The bus's route came through here, she remembered now. She wished she'd chosen a better course, especially because a stop was located to her right. What was next?
Slowing down, the bus halted completely, letting off the children. Timmy, seated next the window, spotted her and walked off with the rest. Perhaps she ought to be careful what she wished for.
"What the hell?" Timmy snapped, waltzing up to her, still stuck on the bush. He didn't even bother to help her off. Such a gentleman he was.
"What the hell what?" Tootie snapped, about as pleased to see him as she was Vicky. Through a tactical maneuvering of her arms, she was able to slide off the bush, right at his feet. Unfortunately, she'd depleted her energy, so she, pain evident, gazed up at him.
"Are you okay?" Timmy blurted, forgetting his tirade when he saw her, lying on her side, bleeding onto his shoe.
"Do you want me to be?" Tootie hissed back. "Or do you want me to be miserable, so I'm just like you? Isn't that exactly what you want?"
Taken aback, he stared blankly for a few seconds. Tears as well as blood streamed down, soaking his shoe. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.
"Leave me alone, let me die here. That would make you happy, wouldn't it? I mean, if you cared about my feelings, you wouldn't be treating me like crap, now would you?"
"I don't want you to die," Timmy murmured, standing stock-still. A strong compulsion to wrench his ankle seized her, taking a few minutes to dispel. So he likened himself to misery, well, she'd show him true misery.
"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I got that wrong. You don't want me dead, you want to keep me alive just so you can bitch about how much your life sucks, how much you hate me for leaving you, and how much I suck. Isn't that it? Your life aspiration is to make sure your girlfriend, who, due to powers beyond her control, neglected you, wish she'd never gotten involved with you?
"Guess what? You got your wish! You're being such a dick to me; I wish I'd never seen your face! I hate you, Timmy Turner!" Sobs punctuated her last few words with violent trembling, his teeth rattled.
The last shred of hope was gone. Everyone either hated him, abandoned him, or forgot him. No one cared whether he lived or died, no one of importance, at any rate. Not even the person he thought least susceptible to antagonism.
"You hate me? Fine! I hate you too!" Timmy spat, recognizing the instant he uttered those words how wrong they were. But he didn't care- why should he? No one gave a lick if he lived or died, so why should he extend that courtesy to others?
((Now you can let me die in peace. I'm glad you hate me so much. I know I'm not worthy of affection, be it from a lover or a family member.)) Having the last word, Tootie fainted, bleeding heavily.
((That's not true!)) He thought fiercely, bending down to scoop her up into his arms. Lamentably, she wasn't conscious to hear this message, nor would she be any of the other times Timmy dared to be a hero, when she couldn't see him.
I don't see anyone in sight. I'm going to have to carry her, unless I can think of something else and quick.
"Cosmo?" Timmy called, cradling Tootie to his chest. He didn't respond and so he began the laborious walk home, treading slowly lest he drop her.
When he at long last reached the house, he collapsed on the step, just in time for Vicky and Mark to come home. Wonderful- his rescue was nick of the wrong time. Tootie was already in bad shape, the walk home hadn't done her any favors. Coupled with his frustration at the situation and resentment at Vicky, his temper flared.
"Better late than never, huh?" Timmy spat, her head in his lap. Fortunately, this was one part of her not currently losing blood. He had yet to connect the thorn in her stomach and the reopening of the gash to their fight.
Vicky, slipping off the moped, halted and glared at him. She'd had a good day; she didn't need a twerp to ruin it. Besides, seeing Tootie reminded her she'd vanished for over three months.
"I could say the same thing about Tootie," she shot back, striding up to him. Sparks flew from their eyes- a fight brewed. Either Mark would have to sit back and watch it or try to prevent it, a worthy endeavor but ultimately rather difficult.
Timmy didn't know quite how to respond to that. On one hand, his quarrel with his girlfriend was the same as hers, but, on the other, agreeing with Vicky was a sign of the apocalypse. So, for a minute, he was in a morass as to what to say.
"I think there's a good cartoon on," Mark said swiftly, strolling towards her and snatching her hand. She shoved him off, her eyes burning intensely.
"Later," she said dismissively and turned back to Timmy and Tootie.
"If she ever shows her face in front of me, I'll make sure she wishes she were never born. I don't like it when people fuck around with my emotions, especially someone I wasted my trust on. Tell her that when she wakes up from her fainting spell."
With those words, she pivoted on her heel and, grabbing her lover's hand, departed.
Once again, he was torn asunder by the notion Tootie could be acting like a prima donna and the thought of believing Vicky over Tootie. Since he couldn't make up his mind, he hefted her through the door (with difficulty, he had to unlock it first) and threw her on the couch. He'd deal with her later- if she could do that to him, he could do it to her. It was only fair.
Fairness is in the eye of the beholder.
(Bubba's Bar and Grill, 5:45 p.m. PST)
Gifoalski needed a drink like he needed a prostitute. Fortunately, both were easily obtained here- at a price. So in his arms were video tapes of Timmy in various embarrassing situations, all queued up to the important parts.
Behind him lurked a moving shadow, but he paid it little mind. By this stage in his life, his brain was already so fogged up by years of alcohol abuse, he couldn't distinguish an animal's silhouette from a man's (or, in this case, an anti fairy). Besides, he couldn't think why a person would stalk him. Other than by those few queer boys, he was universally liked. (And the gays didn't really count, they weren't people).
In front was the dingy, dilapidated bar and grill. The last time any major repairs had been done on it was over ten years ago, on the day of its opening. The manager, apathetic, allowed it to fall into disrepair.
He entered the collapsing doorway, fingers gripping the VHS tapes. The shadow followed him, his fingers gripping the handle of a knife concealed in his pocket. Not that he planned to use it, mind you, but it made good insurance.
Greeting his fellow racists, Gifoalski settled down on a grimy stool beside an equally grimy bar. His shadow selected, wrinkling his nose, a moldy booth towards the back where he could see everything, just not participate.
"Behold the latest- Pinky in the shower, naked and scrubbing the tiles!" Gifoalski crooned, while his compatriots hooted and howled.
Lorenzo, refusing a drink, squeezed his glass (full of tap water) so tightly it shattered in his hand. His eyes burned with rage- no one exploited his Timmy, no matter how sexy the footage was. The glass imbedded in his palm, bleeding freely, would make nice carvings in his face.
"Are you sure, mister?" The waitress, far too young to be working here (so she must being paid under the table, Lorenzo reasoned), queried. It was hard to discern his gender due to the large black cloak covering his face.
"Yes," The Other growled, cutting up his palm even further because his hands were balled.
"All right..." She waltzed off, evidently spooked. Good, he didn't want any stupid bitch hanging all over him, even if she was hot.
"Roll the video tape!" The bartender did, much to Lorenzo's fury. For a full hour (they kept replaying it), all except for one guffawed until beer came out of their noses. Lorenzo was slowly causing minute things to explode, including a fire extinguisher. Every time one of the idiots opened their mouths, his anger increased tenfold.
Soon, it wasn't just small things combusting. The VCR and TV did, sending glass, metal shards, and other material all over the place. Lorenzo stood, fire burning in his eyes. He'd kill everyone here for laughing at him.
"What the hell's going on?" Gifoalski roared, turning towards Lorenzo. The latter smirked, throwing the hood back. Time for some kick ass.
Seeing their ringleader confront The Other, the rest did so as well. In no time at all, the entire bar was staring at Lorenzo. Well, with the exception of a few whose eyes had 'coincidentally' liquefied and slid from their sockets. They were screaming trivial things, such as they were blind. He could really care.
"How befitting- the man who is responsible for single handedly turning an entire school against an individual and making his life a living hell drinks to rid himself of his own living hell. I can't think of any reason a normal, psychologically healthy man would drink this frequently, every night. Then again, nor can I think of why one would find such enjoyment in torturing my Timmy," The Other said, strolling up to Gifoalski and, still stroking the blade, leered at him.
"Your Timmy? What the hell are you talking about? How is he your Timmy?" Gifoalski murmured, completely bewildered. Lorenzo chose to ignore this.
"Tell me, Patrino, were you the 'queer' they made fun of in high school? Because I have to say, a straight man would have no interest in making him do a bitch's job while naked. Only a perverted, gay one would."
"I'm not gay! How dare you say that! I ought to-" Gifoalski stammered, reaching clumsily for his beer bottle to break the head off. Lorenzo shoved his hand away, shuddering, for this meant there had to be a minimal touch.
"This is where our opinions differ." Casting a paralyzing spell on the rest of the occupants, it was now Lorenzo and him. Just the way he liked it, plus, no nasty surprises.
"You pride yourself on torturing my Timmy. You go out of your way to make his life a living hell and for what? A cheap laugh?
"I'll grant that, if you hadn't begun the video taping, your actions might merely be construed as twisted and hate filled. The actions of a homophobe.
"But then you crossed the line. You stopped looking at him as a despised, possible homosexual, and started lusting after him. Don't even lie to me and say that isn't true."
"Liar!" Gifoalski snapped, desperate to prove something that had never been true for him. He'd know, since he was a small child, he wasn't interested in females. That's why he acted so macho- to compensate.
"Do not lie to me," Lorenzo hissed, withdrawing the knife and pressing the hilt to his throat.
"There are three things I can't stand. Bitches, fraches, and liars. Guess which category you fall into?"
"What's a frach-"
"None of your damn business. Now, I can't just let you off with a warning. Not after everything you've put my precious Timmy through.
"But how to kill you, I wonder. A conventional death is too good for you, I want you to languish in agony. I want you to die pleading for mercy."
"I'll make you a deal," Gifoalski blurted, and Lorenzo cocked his head, smirking. What could he tell him that he hadn't already heard before? What did he think would dissuade from this?
"Rumor has it you're gay too, so perhaps if I just showed you a night of passion-"
The bartender's chest cavity exploded, spraying blood everywhere. Around him, things began to catch fire. The blood and the fire met with a hiss.
For a few seconds, Lorenzo was so furious he couldn't think, much less answer. The idea of sleeping with such filth caused him to ignite a few bottles behind the counter and Gifoalski sweated profusely. He'd be stuck in a burning building at this rate.
"Fornicate with you? I'd rather kill myself," Lorenzo growled, flinging Gifoalski precariously close to the fire. Flames licked his hair.
Around them, posters of whores were reduced to ashes, the noisome pool table's velvet smoked, and the wooden tables crackled merrily. Gifoalski's body would be cremated before his soul went to hell.
Cowering behind the entrance, the waitress whimpered. Lorenzo pivoted, staring at her. A Timmy like thought whipped through his head and, in a rare display of compassion, he cleared a path for her, devoid of heat. This didn't involve her, she hadn't been laughing at Timmy; therefore, she had no reason to perish.
"Go!" Lorenzo snapped at her. She didn't need any more urging and she fled. A cold sensation gripped him- he'd saved her life. Why?
The rest, those who laughed at Timmy, now smoldered. Lorenzo hoped Gifoalski was taking notes, this would be him soon.
"I can show you a good time. C'mon, I'll be the best partner you ever-" Gifoalski coaxed, but, as his legs were rapidly dissolving, he halted. His legs lead up to something he really cherished, more so than the videos, already oozing along the floor.
"Better." Drawing back his hand, he snapped Gifoalski's nose to the right. Then, in a series of vicious uppercuts and jabs, he proceeded to break every bone in his bone, saving the best for last. For, despite being a mass of shattered bones, his neck was still intact.
"The honorable thing to do would be to sever your neck right now, before the agony of your broken bones and the horror of being burned alive cause you to empty your bowels. Quite a pleasant death, wouldn't you agree?"
Gifoalski, clearly in too much pain to force the words past his broken ribs and jaw, stared up at him.
"I don't set much by honor, however. If you did, you wouldn't be the gym teacher formerly known as sentient, would you?
"So, although I'd love to sit and chat while you burn to a crisp, I have things to do, and I really don't fancy being singed. I don't tan well.
"Don't worry about being saved. That only happens to the heroes and the charming villains, and you're neither. Ta-ta, bastard."
And that, folks, was Lorenzo's one and only mercy killing.
(Near Il Maestro, Dimmsdale, 7:43 p.m. PST)
Sophie was grateful Wanda knew where she was going because, unfortunately, she hadn't the slightest clue. Her wand had short-circuited on them (too much dark magic), so they were on foot, well, Wanda was on paw. At any rate, they were darting through the streets, poor Sophie bewildered.
"Stop!" She gasped, panting. They'd been running around for hours without even a five-minute break.
"I'll leave you here," the former fairy threatened, her reply sounding like barks to any without fairy godparents.
"Please, I'm trying to help you as much as I can, but I can't if you're going to abandon me," she pleaded, collapsing on the sidewalk. Wanda, about to spurt down the street, stopped and walked back to her.
Smirking, the former fairy waited for her goddaughter to catch her breath before they proceeded. While she kept her mouth shut, she was still being courteous, a behavior that had increased as of late. In fact, her wand had burned out granting Sophie a wish for lunch.
They sat, watching people pass by. A boy with black hair in a wave, stylish clothes, practically oozing cool, stopped in a store not far from them. Wanda gave a start and Sophie stared at her.
"You know him?" She inquired, wishing Wanda's wand hadn't gone out- she was starving.
"I think so," Wanda strained for a name and found one. Now that Sophie's wish had obliterated the pain, she discovered shreds of memories still in residence. They were mostly incomplete and vague, but they were there all the same.
"Gary?" She called, and the boy, walking out of the store, paused. The dog knew his name? Wait, a dog with a floating crown on its head. Could be a fairy, but he didn't know any fairies with black coloration.
"Who the hell are you?" Gary replied, arms folded across his chest. He surveyed both of them, sizing them up. The nine year old, she was insignificant, but who was that dog?
"She's Wanda and I'm Sophie, her goddaughter." Bowing slightly (too much anime), she awaited his reaction.
"You can't be her goddaughter because she already has a godson," Gary replied, sitting down beside them in bafflement. God, he hated being left out of the loop. It was as if he missed three quarters of the story and was coming in near the climax.
"No, she doesn't!" Sophie retorted, confused as well. "Er, do you?"
Frowning, Wanda glanced at Gary and then at her goddaughter. Gary was related to a boy with a silly pink hat, a boy she kept calling 'sport', 'sweetie', and 'honey'. Those were terms of endearment, which meant this boy was either related to her or he was, as Gary said, her godson.
"Goddamn Juandissimo!" Wanda hissed, clutching her head. Vague images of this boy flittered through her mind, but all were elusive. She'd kill for one, just one, to remain long enough for her to examine it.
"Who?" Gary asked, growing more and more puzzled by the second. He'd never met him, nor did he understand why Wanda was black or why she couldn't seem to remember Timmy right off the bat. What the hell was going on?
"Her husband, at least, that's what he claims," Sophie explained. Gary had never heard an explanation that (a), explained less, or (b), was more inaccurate.
"No, Cos's her husband. What the hell are you two smokin'? First you don't remember Timmy, your own godkid for two years, and now you don't remember your husband?!"
"Cosmo's my husband?" Wanda echoed in disbelief and Gary slapped a hand to his forehead.
"Or should I say, what have you been drinking?" He muttered.
"See! I told you!" Sophie cried, delighted. She wrapped her arms around Wanda's head and the former fairy blushed, disused to displays of affection. At the moment, she was too elated with the news to fight her.
"How exactly is this news?" He replied, scratching his head. Somewhere along the way, between Wanda and Tootie disappearing, he'd been thrown out of the action.
"Where is he?" Sophie cried, so excited she was trembling. "Please, we need to find him! It's imperative!"
Who is this kid? "I don't know. Tim-Tim and I aren't exactly on speaking terms,"
"Tim-Tim?" Wanda asked, confused again. "No, it's Timmy..." Timmy...
(Some indiscernible time and place, probably Timmy's room)
"Darn it! I've tried everything I can to get Trixie to like me and nothing's working!" Timmy cries, flinging himself on a foggy object. A bed perhaps?
((Who's Trixie?))
"Don't worry, sport. If she doesn't like you for who you are, then she isn't worth it."
((Me? That's me? I sound so nice...))
"I wish I'd never seen Trixie Tang in my life! I wish she were ugly! I wish-" Tears choke out the rest of his sentence. Wanda feels herself place a hand on his shoulder.
((Why would I do that? He feels like he means a lot to me,))
"It's all right, sweetie."
"Yeah, Trixie's just a bitch!" Cosmo pipes up and she hushes him.
((Cute.))
The scenery fades into fog. No matter how hard Wanda tries, she can't remember anything following this. Still, the fact remains- she remembers them.
(Present day and time)
"I have to find him!" Wanda cried, back to normal for the moment. Gary was puzzled as to why she kept changing, but kept his mouth shut on the subject.
"Well, me and Tim-Tim aren't exactly, you know, what you'd call friendly," Gary trailed off, smirking slightly at the thought he didn't get along with his creator. (Which would be the understatement of the year, but he still, deep down, didn't really want him to die. He just wanted to make him suffer for being the dick he was).
"Please," Sophie begged, arms firmly wrapped about her pink fairy godmother. Wanda nuzzled her arm, proffering affection, something she'd never experienced from her before. She had to keep her normal, no matter the cost. Juandissimo should not be permitted to take her happiness from her, and, if Gary knew how to find Cosmo and reunite the lost lovers, then she must do everything in her power to coerce him to.
Despite however they communicated themselves, Gary had an idea as to where to find Cosmo. After all, Timmy was Gary's sire (as well as Lorenzo's, Timmy could be a vampire for all the siring he did), so he'd spent a fair amount of time (more than that repugnant anti fairy) in his mind. And, unless Timmy had murdered Cosmo like he'd strongly suspected, they'd be at his house.
"We're goin' to Tim-Tim's house," Gary announced, folding his arms across his chest. Hi ho, hi ho, to the spoiled brat's house we go.
(Outside Timmy's house, 8:00 p.m. PST)
None answered the door when he rang, so, he continued to do until a bleary-eyed Tootie, looking murderous, received him. She held her stomach in one hand and the doorknob in the other. Good lord, she looked like hell.
"What do you want?" She hissed, pain evident in her squinting eyes. A strong desire to pass out presented itself and he quickly got into a position to catch her.
"Are you all right?" Sophie inquired, stepping in front of Gary and leading a dark pink dog. Gary noted her straining to hold the color by reliving the memory (she kept murmuring things about Cosmo and Timmy), but, since her recollection didn't contain a pre-teen girl, she was at a loss. Tootie who?
"Are you Trixie?" Wanda murmured, trying to place her. Her fur grew steadily darker and her crown flickered. She was regressing.
"Hell no! What the hell's wrong with you, Wanda?" Tootie snapped, some of her venom previously directed at Timmy shifting focus to poor Wanda. Nevertheless, she knew it was wrong to inflict her own pain upon her, so she let up and changed the subject.
"I'm sure Timmy'll be glad to see you..." Unfortunately, her energy failed her and she fell forward, right into Gary's waiting arms. He kissed the crown of her head and stroked her hair, rage filling him at the thought of Timmy's mistreatment of this angel.
"Is she going to be all right?" Sophie asked, aware she was repeating herself but, since she hadn't gotten an answer the first time, asking again. The injuries looked and felt bad to her.
Wanda shuffled her feet before bolting out the door, towards the tree house. In the hubbub, she was unnoticed. (Their attention was, after all, focused on Tootie).
"Goddamn Timmy," Gary growled, cradling her and transporting up the stairs. Sophie trailed, left with no alternative.
Craning the memories he and his sire shared, Gary conjectured where Tootie slept and, juggling her and the knob. He managed to accomplish this feat and lay her tenderly upon the bed, tucking her in as well. All the administrations Timmy, because all of his drama queen shenanigans, wouldn't do.
Sophie, resigned to accompanying the only person who might be able to help her, settled in a chair. Hmm, the chair was somewhat comfy. Her eyes began to close,
Through half open eyes, she watched Gary smooth her hair and jump up to locate some bandages. He'd noticed immediately, when his hand touched her stomach, the lack of gauze. So he was taking care of her, was he her boyfriend?
Yawning, Sophie shut her eyes completely for a second, untroubled by this, and didn't wake until later.
(The tree house, 8:15 p.m. PST)
Opting to do things the human way (plus the expenditure of that much magic was extremely taxing), Wanda climbed the wooden steps, hands slick with sweat. Her heart palpitated at the thought of seeing Cosmo again, feeling him against her body again. God, she hadn't realized how much she wanted him until she really thought about it.
Unfortunately, when she did think about it, memories assailed her, too strong to fight. By the time she reached the top step, she fainted.
(Tootie's room, 8:20 p.m. PST)
Every once in a while, she'd cry out in her sleep. Gary stroked her hair, caressed the small of her back, and she quieted. This had to be the first time he'd ever gotten this close to her; only because she was unconscious.
Sophie slept, slumped over a nearby chair. Dealing with Wanda had to be tiresome- he didn't blame her for growing weary. Unfortunately, he wasn't well acquainted with her and, therefore, he didn't care terribly about her well-being. As long as she slept, he was happy.
Tootie's head rested on his shoulder, her arms loosely wrapped about him. In her slumber, she assumed he was Timmy. Well, if it allowed him to get closer to her, then what harm was the pretense?
Try as he might, though, he was unable to rid himself of the notion that this was Timmy's fault. He badly wanted to pummel him for doing this to her, reducing her to this husk.
"Cal...tell Loreto to stop...tell Timmy...I love him so much it's painful..." Tootie murmured, sleep resting her arms around his neck. Blood rushed to his face- was she coming onto him due to his perceived identity? Moreover, who the hell were Cal and Loreto?
"Toot, it's me, Gary," he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her. She could love Timmy all she wanted, as long as she outgrew him. Like he outgrew me.
"Tim-Gary?!" Awaking with a start, she dropped her arms and fought to escape his. However, she lacked the dexterity to do so and her head landed on his chest. She panted, spent.
"Don't fight me. I'm better for you than Timmy," Gary murmured, kissing the crown of her head. She glanced up at him, eyes widened in pain.
"Please let go of me," She pleaded.
"If I let go of you, you'll fall over." Smiling and shaking his head, he cupped her chin in his palm.
"And I'm bleeding on your shirt," she noted with a smirk. I want Timmy to hold me like this. I want to hear his heartbeat against mine.
"No, you're not. I took the liberty of givin' you bandages and carefully removin' the thorn in your stomach."
Teasing lightly, he added, "By the way, did you know you have a nice chest?"
"You looked at my chest! You pervert!" Tootie pushed feebly but to no avail. He wouldn't release her (she'd fall off the bed if he did).
"Jus' to sterilize the wound, nothin' more," He assured her, caressing her cheek. He kissed her softly, to coerce her, but she froze.
"Don't kiss me."
"Why? Because I'm not Timmy? What do you see in him, anyway?" Gary snapped, releasing her gently and placing her back onto the pillows.
"I love him unconditionally. It's hard to explain." Tootie bit her lip, musing. Why did she love Timmy? Such a hard question to answer.
"Start explainin', because I don't get it." Folding his arms across his chest, he regarded her.
"I...I can't. Just, please, take me to him. I need him,"
"Why? Does he deserve it?" Gary countered.
"I just need him," Tootie whispered. "I spent the last few months wishing I could hold him and have him hold me...I need him so badly,"
"I can hold you."
"That's not what I want!" She snapped, slowly losing her battle with consciousness again.
"Get him here...I'll do anything," With that, she fainted again. A pained look crossed her face and he stood, fully intending to retrieve Timmy, when something else happened.
Looking out the window, he saw a slight pink flash, accompanied with a green one, take off. He had to follow them, this was Sophie's mission. Besides, Timmy wasn't going anywhere, these two were.
Gary banged on the door, awakening Sophie instantly. He indicated she follow him and she did, after casting a disparaging glance at Tootie.
They both hoped Tootie would be all right, but, given the circumstances, Gary wished he could stay there a bit longer. After all, Timmy wasn't going to do anything for her.
Walking in relative silence (Sophie asked a few questions Gary wouldn't answer), they made their way to the school. Gary did have a bit of magic in him, including psychic feelings. (He gathered death from Tootie). The magic told him this was the spot, so they reached the back of the school, the fields.
Unfortunately, his vision wasn't supernatural and they were stuck calling their names, her clutching him obnoxiously. Damn insecure little girl.
It looked like, for now, it was time to play the waiting game,
(Behind Dimmsdale Junior High, 10:00 p.m. PST- Do you know where your fairy godchildren are?)
The fields were her last complete memory of Cosmo. Therefore, once she'd regained consciousness, she'd taken him there. Although she was unclear as to why they'd quibbled, she still remembered it and this meant a great deal to her.
"Wanda? Why are we here? It's kinda dark and scary," Cosmo whined, enveloping her in a terror hug. Normally, she disdained such cowardly behavior, but delight filled her, so she merely ran her hand over his hair affectionately. Every time they touched, exuberance. With every cell in her body, she craved him.
Cupping his chin, she pulled him in for another ravenous kiss, one he returned willingly. They fell to the ground, Wanda noting her wings budded and then ebbed, budded and then ebbed. Juandissimo was coming, she was certain; therefore, this caused her reaction.
((How come whenever you see me, you're so happy? I mean, I'm a moron and I'm kinda known for my stupidity-))
((Juandissimo!)) Wanda hissed, his name explicating such loathing, disgust, resentment, and fury Cosmo passed out from all the negative emotions. In fact, the name elicited so strong a reaction in herself pain rippled through her body. Without his presence and potion, he still poisoned her.
In the pitch black, Wanda sighted two moving shadows. Her heart rate tripled- could one be Juandissimo? God, she hoped not. It was too soon, dammit! Why couldn't she have five minutes alone with him?
"Wanda?" Cosmo murmured, coming to. His fingers sought her curly pink hair but found wavy instead. This was disconcerting.
((If-if you take me, will I forget everything Juandissimo did to me?)) Along with this message came her many memories of the past few months. She'd yearned to share them with someone who understood her anger and thirst for revenge.
Fortunately, he didn't faint again but he quaked with rage. She smiled, watching him stand and proclaim how he would punish him. The sadistic side, birthed by Juandissimo, reveled in this idea. The bastard would die!
Cocking her head and ignoring Cosmo, she realized the shadows called her and Cosmo's names. One voice was Sophie, frightened and clinging to Gary (this was evident by his groans of 'not cool'). So her goddaughter fretted about her, that was cute. Wow, being around Cosmo certainly changed her perception of things.
They're not going to ruin this for me! Wanda thought fiercely, springing to her feet, quieting Cosmo in mid expletive. As fast as her feet could carry her, she yanked him in the direction of the woods. He was too stunned to protest.
If it was possible, the woods were even darker. Twigs snapped beneath their treading, thorns caught their arms and hair, and pebbles battered their feet. Cosmo whined the whole way, however, Wanda tuned him out. Just a few more feet, then they'd be in the heart of the woods.
They halted in front of what appeared to be a large oak tree, where Wanda yanked him down beside her. She didn't permit a moment to pass before their lips met in a passionate kiss and her hands undid his tie. She wanted him now.
By the time Juandissimo finds me here, I'll already be Cosmo's...
(In the woods, 11:30 p.m. PST)
In the middle of their lovemaking, they found a very nasty surprise- Juandissimo. He appeared like a vulture, his eyes flashing angrily. Holding up his wand, he separated Cosmo from her, flinging him into another tree. He'd never been angrier in his life, except perhaps when Wanda dumped him for Cosmo.
It took a while for her eyes to refocus and grasp the situation. When she did, she conjured clothes and stood, blood brought to a boil. Words could not adequately express just what she wanted to do to him.
"You filthy whore," Juandissimo spat, seizing her by the arms and pinning her to the tree. His fingers dug into her shoulder blades.
Since she could not kick him (he'd straddled her and he was far too powerful to dislodge), she settled for spitting in his face. The recent events rendered her unable to concentrate hard enough to do any magic, so she was stuck. Nothing to do now but blindly fight back.
Glowing eerily, Juandissimo's wand served a double purpose- it bound her to the tree and illuminated the scene. A large lump had surfaced on Cosmo's head and his body had fallen beneath a thorn bush. No...
((Cosmo!)) Wanda screamed, an errant tear sliding down her cheek.
"I did everything within my power to make you mine and yet you still care for him? This is unacceptable! Now you are cheating on me-" Juan began but Cosmo, returning to consciousness at the urgency of Wanda's message, shakily stood.
"She's my wife, not yours, muscles magoo," Cosmo said dangerously, sauntering over to them.
"I do not think you want to start this," Juan retorted, holding out his wand. After all, the buffoon was unarmed. Besides, he wasn't stupid enough to jump him.
"Stop hurting Wanda!" Cosmo snapped, tackling him from behind. He didn't care if he was naked and unarmed, this wasn't right! How could he claim to love her yet rape her on a daily basis? If he truly loved her, he'd want her to be happy.
"I can do whatever I wish to my wife."
"Liar," Gary retorted, stepping into the clearing. He and Sophie, still clinging to his jacket, had seen the illumination and darted towards it. They both shielded their eyes from Cosmo's nudity- Sophie due to modesty, Gary because it did nothing for him. Nevertheless, they were there.
Clenching her eyes shut, Wanda concentrated as hard as she could on equipping Cosmo. Damn, this merited more magic than she had. Once she reached her quota, she fainted.
Juandissimo's eyes were not Cosmo, however. As soon as he saw Wanda collapse, he poofed out from under him and snatched her. Now was neither the time nor the place for a duel.
"Coward!" Cosmo called, eyes riveted to his wife. He could still taste her juices on his tongue and remembered being inside her. Juandissimo was not getting away with this if he had anything to do with it.
Ignoring the taunt, Juan clutched her to his chest and poofed off, not to Marseilles or Boston, but to someplace entirely different, where Cosmo couldn't find her. And, even if he could, he'd make sure Wanda never woke to see him.
(Timmy's house, 12:45 a.m. PST)
Timmy awoke to the sound of Tootie screaming. He bolted upright; her piercing shriek scared the shit out of him. Perhaps, just this one time, he should ignore his anger at her and see what was going on.
"Tootie?" He whispered, cautiously craning his neck in and shoving the creaking door open. Utter silence greeted him- good, she was asleep. Well, she wasn't fully conscious, at any rate.
Blood covered the sheets and he remembered with a pang their fight. Cosmo could heal her? Would he remember them? Was it possible to catch him lucid?
On the bureau was an envelope in her handwriting addressed to Vicky. It appeared to be fairly thick, so Timmy was both disappointed and aggravated when the only thing seemingly his was a post-it atop. Why should Vicky receive preferential treatment? Hadn't she been worse to her than he?
Complaints aside, the note read:
Timmy,
I know you hate me now- it's obvious by the way you look at me and act towards me. I've given you good reason to- haven't I always? I'm sorry I disappointed you, but don't worry. It won't happen again.
You won't have to worry about me anymore. The next time I get lost, I'll stay lost. I might even die.
That would make you happy, wouldn't it? Then I wouldn't be able to defend myself from your wild, totally out of line accusations. Besides, I know I make a better dead girlfriend than live one. At least you'll be able to find me, provided they bring my body back for a proper burial.
Just give that letter to Vicky, okay? Please? Consider it my last will and testament.
Tootie
P.S. Even if you hate me, just remember that, until my last, I loved you.
Tears splattered the page and Timmy, unable to stop crying, sunk to the floor. The idea, the very thought of losing her, made him feel as though his heart was being wrenched from his still living body. He couldn't believe, nay, he'd lied to himself about how much pain she was really in. She needed him to be there for her and what was he doing but continuously bringing up past events? What good did that do her?
For over ten minutes, Timmy sat there, on his knees, staring into the darkness. The only sound piercing the cloak of night was Tootie whimpering. Suddenly, he knew what he must do.
Swaying like a drunkard (the note's contents had disturbed him this much), he rose to his feet (meantime, tears streamed, unabated). Not entirely trusting his feet and legs to cooperate, Timmy shuffled to her bed and collapsed, drawing her to him.
She was clammy, tears pouring down her face as well as his. Every once in a while, she'd take a deep, shuddering breath and tremble like a leaf. Needless to say, he was steadily becoming more and more concerned with each passing moment.
"No, no, leave me alone, don't you dare hurt my Timmy, he's not involved," Tootie murmured, tossing and turning in his arms. In response, he pulled her closer, his hand unwittingly touching her chest and feeling her erratic heartbeat.
God. I wonder what's got her so wound up? Her heart's going a mile a minute, like someone's chasing her.
"No!" Tootie screamed and bolted upright. He marveled at how awake she could seem, when all of this was sleep talk and sleep action.
"It's all right, hush. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," More than they already have. If I called Cosmo to have him heal her, would he come? Do I dare to hope?
Stroking her hair gently, Timmy tenderly kissed her lips, remaining in an ostensibly permanent objection. She moaned slightly but did not wake. He'd have to try harder, but, for the moment, this was not his objective.
"Cosmo?" He called, caressing the small of her back. Her skin was satin beneath his fingers and, as he stroked her hair, ripples of pleasure coursed through his body. She was so warm, so pleasant to hold.
Unfortunately, just as he'd anticipated, Cosmo did not answer. His eyes slowly grew heavier and heavier until, just as he'd drifted off to sleep with Tootie in his arms, his godfather arrived.
"Tootie, I'm so sorry," Timmy murmured, tears sliding into her pigtail.
"Hey, Timmy," Cosmo said in a monotone, no sign of his previous exuberance present. His poof had been so silent; Timmy hadn't heard it. In fact, if he hadn't spoken to him when he had, he'd have fallen asleep without noticing him.
"Cosmo!" He replied with a smile. In a second, he was revitalized.
"Do you know where Wanda is?"
No, not this again. Please, why can't I get a few seconds with Cosmo without him bringing her up? I'm competing with someone who doesn't even remember he exists.
Tactfully switching subjects, he mentioned his desire for Tootie, currently whimpering something into his chest about Lorelei, to be healed completely. Perhaps if he brought up someone else, Cosmo would temporarily forget about Wanda. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? (As was everything).
"You wish? What about what I wish? I wish Juandissimo's body were on a trash heap because he finally got his just desserts! I wish I could be holding Wanda like you're holding Tootie, holding her like you never want to let her go."
I don't want to let go of her. I'm afraid if I do, she'll be gone forever.
As if emphasizing his point, Cosmo brandished his wand, sparks flying idly. A few landed on Tootie's stomach, healing her partly. Perhaps if he kept him occupied long enough, he could heal her completely.
"What's wishing going to do? I don't get my wishes granted-"
"Of course you don't get your goddamn wishes granted!" Timmy exploded, trembling with anger. "You're my fairy godfather; you're supposed to grant my wishes!"
"You, you, you! What about me?"
"What about you?" Timmy said dangerously. "Why don't you stop thinking about how much you need Wanda and start thinking about how much I need you?
"For the love of God, Cosmo, you're all I have!" After all, my parents are never coming back,
Cosmo blinked, whacking himself on the head with his wand. The sparks ceased falling and he glanced down- Tootie was still only halfway healed. It appeared she would remain that way.
For a few seconds, his hopes soared. That last bit could have gotten through to him. He might have realized the importance of being there for him.
However, the only thing it did accomplish was wasting a few minutes. Not only did it fail to penetrate, Cosmo began speaking animatedly, as though Wanda was right beside him. Timmy and Tootie were lost to the future ages.
Only one person had the power to draw him from his revelry and he feared she'd never return. So he was alone, inexorably driven to the darkness. No one cared, no one would ever.
So the green haired fairy departed, heading back to the tree house to speak to his long gone counterpart of events that had lost all significance.
Tootie disentangled herself, prattling on about remaining a virgin. Apparently, in her slumber, she didn't realize exactly who was holding her. He should amend that.
But first, to change his shirt- wearing a bloody one reminded him too much of Lorenzo. Rising slowly, he captured Tootie's lips in another kiss and ran his tongue over them, tasting her. She moaned, shifting away from him.
Swaying again, Timmy dragged his feet as he walked to his room but collapsed on the bed when he reached it. He remembered nothing of the night's events nor did Tootie. And, sadly, he never returned to her room, never treated her like that again, and Tootie never learned Timmy cared until it was too late.
(The Other's hideous, abhorrent, disturbing mansion, 1:33 a.m. PST)
Remy's head hit the desk and, for a few minutes, he didn't care. All his research, his many dedicated months had added up to nothing. He was no further along than when he started.
Frustrated beyond belief, Remy muttered the first paragraph of what was actually an incantation.
When he finished, a skulking individual, lovingly fingering his blood slicked machete, sat atop the table. A black hood concealed his face, but, had Remy ventured further, he'd have discovered a vacuity instead. The being on the table was not only faceless; he was devoid of a soul and flesh with a voice that sounded like nails scratching on the blackboard.
"You summoned me- what is your sacrifice?" Abounding from the table, one of his bony fingers stroked Remy's cheek. Remy scarcely refrained from screaming despite the fact the upper layer of skin peeled away from his face wherever the creature touched him. So he'd inadvertently called upon a demon of some sort- could he use this to his advantage?
"Sacrifice, yeah, I'll have to get back to you on that," Remy said, inwardly marveling at the many things he could do to Lorenzo if this creature would work for him. Finally, payback! What did he care what happened afterwards? That was Turner and co.'s job, not his.
"I do not concur," the demon growled, hefting the towheaded boy up by his shirt and dangling him above the floor, where a sizeable cauldron had materialized, its contents bubbling ominously.
"I am Eshcolex of the Satiro (I will not be called Eshie-poo, Eshie, or Esh-chan). If you do not wish to become a eunuch before you are charbroiled alive, you will name your sacrifice and do so now. I do not have time for peons who deem magic to be a game," Eshcolex growled, positioning Remy as close as possible to his maw, or what would have been his maw. Steam licked his sneakers.
Remy gulped, hands shifting unconsciously to his crotch. Things were beginning to heat up unpleasantly. Unfortunately for him, Eshcolex found this epitome of amusement.
Sniggering, he let him slip a bit into the cauldron, and, once Remy screamed frightfully, flung him into the bookcase. Fleshy individuals were always good for a cheap laugh. They had such a fear of pain, it was truly amazing.
"I-I-I need to find a fairy," Remy stammered, his head throbbing dully. Maybe he ought to rethink the idea of commanding this creature. He'd be lucky to survive now, forget later.
"A fairy?! You summoned me, the almighty Eshcolex, destroyer of worlds, purveyor of pestilence, harbinger of doom, to locate a fairy? A fairy?! That is an affront to everything I've killed for!"
"Please, I need to find Wanda or Lorenzo'll kill me," Remy whined, attempting to stand but falling back down; he was too disoriented.
"Wanda?" Eshcolex murmured, musing. It rang a few distant bells; any creature utilizing such excessive dark magic registered on their scales, no matter their distinction. (Lorenzo wasn't accounted as highly since he, relatively speaking, was only two years old).
"Yeah, her." Adroitly rising to his feet, Remy faced him, ignoring the thundering in his temple. He learned his lesson from The Other; no more stupid questions.
"Unfortunately, I have no idea where she is. However, I know where two anti fairies are who are aware of her whereabouts. If your magical prowess is sufficient to call me, a relatively high level demon, it should easily procure Anti-Cosmo and Anti-Wanda."
Remy heaved a sigh- it seemed to him as though the unpleasantry would soon depart. That he did, but not without a final word.
Stooping down (he was at least six feet tall), Eshcolex whispered a few words that sent a chill through Remy's heart.
"Your beloved will die at the hands of the one you seeks' husband."