Disclaimer: I apologize for the apparent lack of interest in TOS lately. I've been busy and the other things I'm writing, mostly Foster's, are a lot easier to do because they're shorter. Also, I've been getting away from FOP. Still, I think my interest might be rekindled because this isn't going according to plan. That's actually good.

Oh, and Lorenzo might be mine as well as Sophie, but FOP is Butch Hartman, may he rot in pieces.

Chapter Eleven: Unexpected Repercussions

There were dreams and then there were dreams, the ones that made you whimper longingly and clutch your pillow to your chest like squeezing it tightly might make it so. Tootie currently performed both adroitly, sighing and clenching her eyes shut. If she just pretended for an instant nothing had gone wrong and his arms enveloped her, she might attain some sanity. Unfortunately, the alarm buzzed annoyingly and Timmy's obnoxiously argumentative voice filled what little the buzzer didn't cover. Between the two, she thought she might go deaf.

That could be a blessing, Tootie thought, throwing aside her lilac bedsheets (the Timmy covered ones lay buried in her chest). The birds chirped annoyingly and she contemplated throwing a pillow at the window. Then again, the likelihood of birds silencing thanks to her rediscovery of the real world remained exceedingly unlikely. Besides, the morning fae had come to greet her and talking to Cal and Daniela beat conversing with her estranged lover. If he intimated she slept with half of Dimmsdale again, she might ensure he never had kids.

"Have any good dreams?" Cal inquired meekly, listening to Timmy scold everything from poor Sophie to the blasted door. Daniela's violet eyes flashed warningly and she seized a translucent version of the transistor. It fizzed, sparked, and then died in her hands. Ghosts wielded no weapons.

"Or did straight boy with the queer eye interrupt them all by accusing you of starting World War II? When I get my body back, he'll be sorry…" she muttered, brandishing her pathetic device. It lay prone in her ghastly appendages and Cal sighed while Tootie looked on, amused. At least Daniela possessed more fire in her pinky than Cal contained in his entire, er, spirit.

At that moment, Timmy Turner, the rude little bastard he was, burst in unannounced and glared around, as if expecting Gary to jump out of the closet. Heh, out of the closet, that was a laugh. She wished he'd dwell in there and locate some guy to share his hiding hole. It'd be one less problem and right now, alleviation suited her well.

"Where is he?" Timmy snapped, continually scanning the perimeter. Meanwhile, lurking in the corner, Cal and Daniela observed him coolly, the latter flipping him off. When he discovered nothing, she flipped him off again and blew a raspberry. Timmy's head jerked in that direction, but, unable to see them, spun back to regard her.

"Where's who?" Tootie retorted, folding her arms across her chest then swiftly lamenting her decision. On a rare impulse, she'd thrown on a very revealing red silk nightgown cut like a V. When he gazed at her, his eyes burned straight to her cleavage. She wanted to snap his head back and shove his eyes into his brain; the old ire returned full swing. How could someone she loved so dearly and deeply eviscerate her like a demon?

"Gary," he retorted like she lacked the intellect of Cosmo's pet rock. Slamming the door shut behind him, he stepped forward into the room and commenced turning over any and every object he fell across. Books, binders, and her old school texts (Cal had yet to discover a way to return them short of breaking and entering) amassed on her quilted sheets; her transistor quaked on its bureau. Stupidity knows no bounds- and if Timmy honestly believed she hid his imaginary friend under a paperback novel, he was indeed the stupidest creature she had ever met.

"He's not here," she snarled, yanking him up by his loathsome pink collar. At the moment, she loathed everything about him, including those disdainful buck teeth. A cruel smirk flitted across her face at the notion they somehow rooted in his brain and impaired his thinking skills. Two identical bite marks in his gray matter led him to accuse her of lewdness and mutilated his love into hatred.

"Liar! You're always with him!" he charged, falling to his knees to investigate the underside of her bed. She yearned to kick him beneath, but resisted the temptation. Resentment wormed its way into her heart and narrowed her eyes to slits. One swift kick might mean the world of difference to Timmy Turner's outlook, but unless provoked further, she'd restrain herself.

Opening drawers (since when could Gary shapeshift into a pair of panties?) and finally, her closet, he thrust his nose sorely where it didn't belong. Instead of kicking him under the bed, perhaps she ought to lock him in the closet. After all, when she was nine, he'd done the same thing to her. And she hadn't been half as intrusive and abusive as he was acting currently.

"Yes, Timmy, he's in my bra drawer. Why wouldn't he be? I'm sure an imaginary friend the size of a human could easily fit between my silky drawers and my under-wire bras. Why don't you check in the ant mound too, outside? If he can turn into a bra, there's no end to his capabilities," Tootie snapped, thoroughly fed up with him.

Mouth agape, Timmy halted mid search and gawked at her. Striding forward purposefully, she balled her fists and gritted her teeth. How tempting it was to shove him inside and lock him in, ne'er to disturb her again. Maybe a few weeks in solitude would do him a world of good. (Nonetheless, the instant she considered this, her heart informed her she could never be so cruel. She'd unlock him after a few hours, if he delivered an apology).

Daniela snorted inaudibly, relishing his idiocy. Intangible, she waved her useless wand at unlikely places, including the back of her bookshelf and the radiator vent. She cackled mirthfully, indicating Gary might have become an air wave or the fly zooming around Timmy's head. Cal merely rolled his eyes, ignoring her.

Not deigning a response, Timmy stomped on a Kenny doll (Daniela crooned- "Oh, my God, they killed Kenny! You bastards!") and shoved the door closed. He then cast a contemptuous look, kicked a history book into the adjacent wall, and then proceeded to slam her door so loudly, her ears rang. Briefly, she contemplated starting yet another disagreement, then changed her mind. Instead, she snatched a book, ripped it open and hoped like Sophie words would steal her from this world.

…

Sophie glanced up, immersed in yet another thick tome, to discover a small pink fairy, her fairy godmother, floating hesitantly before her. Her wand hung loosely in her right hand and she bore every sign of spending the entire night awake. Once again, Sophie pitied her. Would Wanda never find any relief? What plagued her now?

Then she spotted it and, blinking in confusion, she focused her mind only to arrive at the same conclusion. A wispy but tenacious tendril linked her to another being trailing her, but not even aided by supernatural powers permitted her to name it. The link's color glistened green; she bit her lip then decided to ask Wanda. After all, she was new, inexperienced with magic. Wanda surely comprehended more of the world's mysteries than her.

"Hi, sweetie," Wanda greeted feebly, resting on her sheets. She descended and the being settled beside her. Sophie stared, unable to determine the smoky outline. Though she'd spent the last few days voraciously reading up on her powers and devouring any helpful information, she was, as she'd stated, a novice. However, if Wanda noted her perplexed expression, she said nothing.

"You haven't slept," Sophie replied simply, lying low on her stomach to fetch another tome. Its girth caused her more exertion than she expected and she nearly fell head over heels off the bed. Ah, the disadvantages of being young, but diminutive. Then again, the book itself contained upwards of two thousand pages. It was the Ancient Magick Compendium and if it led her astray, then nothing could else stood a chance.

Scanning her room, Wanda glanced at the books cramming every notch in her conjured bookshelf. Ones unable to fit piled atop and by the floor were more, to the point where half of Sophie's room held books. Since Wanda (or anyone else, for that matter) had never known the Turners to read, the effect was startling. Still, Wanda rather wished Sophie didn't feel the need to bury herself in books.

"You look like you have half of Lorenzo's library in here, honey," Wanda said gently, motioning grandly towards her "modest" collection. To her surprise, the small girl nodded emphatically and grinned. In the companionship of books, she never felt alone. Their dusty pages whispered mystical secrets only she deciphered. Though they were mere books to others, immaterial and ineffectual, they were her only friends.

Beaming, she proceeded to point out each and every one and its prominent (or faded) title. Wanda gawked; aware she'd recited their titles, some of them without even glancing in the same direction. Her anxiety increased. Holing herself up in her room was hardly healthy, especially to the point where she rarely submerged to communicate.

"And here's Detailed Demonology-" Sophie began, staring at the undisguised longing on Wanda's face. Inwardly, she debated whether to merely extract it sans explanation or let her goddaughter in. Outwardly, she offered her a weak smile and eyed it. Sophie sighed, gently placing it down on the blue carpeted floor and sitting Indian-style to open it.

"You want to stop that demon who stole Cosmo's soul, don't you?" She inquired and leafed through the pages. Far too much was in French and she understood too little. Among Lorenzo's collection was not a French-English dictionary, lamentably. Therefore, she wisely refrained from chanting the spells lest she find herself unable to deal with the consequences.

Sighing, sitting next to her, she nodded. The spirit hovered over her back, but just as she began to pinpoint its possible person, it disappeared. Sophie stared blankly and Wanda bit her lip. Far be it for her to intrude, curiosity unhinged her jaw and loosened her tongue. Words tumbled out before she capped her inquisitive nature.

"Who's that spirit by you? Why did I see a link between you two? Is that Cosmo? Don't you think it's a bit dangerous to attack a demon? Fairies have been killed that way! Where were you last night? How come when Timmy called you at dinner, you didn't answer? Why can Lorenzo leave the mirror now? How-" Sophie blurted, the questions somersaulting out. In fact, if Wanda hadn't silenced her through a spell, she might have continued incoherently. Startled, she clutched her inoperative throat.

"Sophie, I love you dearly, but every time we meet, you ask me more questions than anyone can answer," she replied, chuckling softly. "You need to slow down, child."

Sighing, good humor evanescing, she frowned lightly. Folding her arms across her chest, she glanced once at the book and then met her goddaughter's eyes. She could tell her chances to examine that book at length were evaporating like the levity, but to prevent another question waterfall, she had to let her in. Besides, her last question unnerved her. Fingers drummed her wooden wand and next few seconds, they were the only source of noise in the room other than their breathing.

"Lorenzo can't leave the mirror," Wanda murmured, now questioning her barrier. What if it hadn't been strong enough? What if because he could leave, Timmy got hurt? Nerves twisted and her stomach clenched painfully. That was the last thing she needed, for Timmy to hate her again. Lorenzo was her fault and her responsibility.

Waving her wand, she gave her back the power of speech. Unfortunately, that ensured she might be subjected to another hurricane speech, but she panicked now. What if because of Cosmo's absence, her magic had somehow suffered? When Timmy was ten and they separated briefly, her magic abilities plummeted. Could it be possible an anti fairy devoid of any real powers still possessed the ability to deteriorate her spells? Did that mean Cosmo was more at risk than ever before? What if she wasn't strong enough to protect him, either?

"I saw him leaving the house," she replied, placing a hand on Wanda's white knuckles. The pink fairy sized her up before deciding not to detail her quarrels. Lorenzo was her responsibility and if her spell hadn't been strong enough, she had to do something about that. Sophie had no part in this quandary. In fact, she had little role in this whole scene. If Juandissimo had not erred, she wouldn't be here at all.

"I'll be back," Wanda whispered; she was uncertain whether she would keep her word, however. Hugging her briefly, she poofed to the mirror. Lorenzo had better have a good excuse…and Timmy had better be in perfect health.

…

Lorenzo DeMedici lounged on Timmy's couch and casually flicked through endless bad programming. An advertisement for a boy with a tangible imaginary friend interested him, but the show clearly contained too little bloodshed. That girl's voice sounded familiar, somehow. He frowned, trying to place her. Someone very familiar, someone he'd spent a lot of time with…

Sighing, unable to come up with a name, he happened upon another show involving eight year olds, but this one sounded much more promising. He observed coolly, listening to ethnic slurs and cursing. Smirking, he decided this was probably the best animated show on and settled in for the long haul. At least there were no creatures named after colors.

"So Sophie was right," Wanda remarked sadly and seized the remote. Four boys residing in Colorado disappeared and she floated sideways in front of him. A smirk crossed his face and he folded his arms across his chest. This might prove more interesting than anything else.

"Why, hello, Wanda. What brings you here?" he inquired, smirking. His gargantuan body took up the entire couch stretched out and his feet hung over the edge. Long brown hair flowed down to his waist and over the side of the couch. He lay flat on his back.

And I see you have no recollection I rescued you from Eschcolex yesterday. Ah, well. Then again, you were unconscious for a good six hours. I suppose my kiss simply put you under a spell, he thought, smirking, and slapped the black cable remote on his washboard stomach. Wanda glared at him, but he saw past her facade. He saw the exhausted, devastated fairy she truly was and how he could help her. And by help, he meant convince her to see things his way.

"How did you get out?" Wanda snapped, her voice low but threatening. Lorenzo reached out lazily with one finger and stroked a wing. Fairy dust rubbed off on his finger and Wanda froze in midair, her pink eyes wide and disbelieving. Slowly she spun around to face him completely.

"I thought you liked that," he snickered. "Or am I doing it wrong? The last time, you were moaning."

Color draining from her face, she reared her hand back and slapped Lorenzo across the face. Though that was not quite the reaction he desired, it jolted him back to his senses. After stealing one kiss, he'd gotten too cocky. A dim shadow flitting around her released a nearly inaudible growl and, to Lorenzo's trained ears, it sounded almost like Cosmo.

"You haven't changed a bit, The Other," she replied icily and her term for him was like another slap. Like a small child, he glanced down and fidgeted. Pauline and her fangirls had forgotten all about him and in their disloyalty, he wanted a spot of normalcy. Ego trips helped him recover from his hubris.

Pounding, ear throbbing music commenced from upstairs and Lorenzo smiled weakly despite himself. That'd be Timmy after another rejection and, on cue, even louder music blasted from Tootie's room. It was a small wonder all three of them didn't deafen themselves. Sophie, squealing, darted out with a book more suitable as a weapon and, after nearly tripping down the stairs, spurted out the door. Lorenzo watched her passively and wondered how long it'd be until she tripped over her own feet and the book sailed through the air to knock someone out. With relish, he rather hoped it was that damned Pauline.

Waving her wand at once, the noise ceased. Doubtlessly, Tootie and Timmy now peered over their stereos and wondered where the earsplitting racket had disappeared to. The smile broadened as he recalled when Timmy wished the world were mute. At least then, they couldn't argue outwardly. Telepathy sailed over his head anyway.

"Does Timmy know?" she whispered, glancing at the stairwell. Five seconds later, he appeared and opened his mouth to scold Wanda when his eyes fell upon Lorenzo. This time, her face turned the color of sour milk and she descended onto the couch. Not another argument…

Voice low and dangerous, he growled at her, "I hate you. You let him out of that damn mirror and now he can do whatever he wants to me. This is all your damn fault and I hope you burn for it, frach."

Lorenzo jumped to her aid before she could even verbalize a response. In several short strides, he'd worked his way to the base of the stairs. A presence hovered over Wanda's shoulder but neither noticed. They locked eyes and metaphysical horns.

"For your information, I can't touch you," he spat, fury composed of three elements-resentment he couldn't, anger he couldn't control himself enough to stop from hurting Timmy, and fury he'd accused Wanda of the same crime. Like she wasn't his fairy godmother and didn't have his best interests at heart. Brat.

"And before you start accusing everyone in this house of conspiring against you, let me tell you something. Sometimes, people can't do whatever they want and tell the truth. Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a good reason behind their motives? Did you ever stop to think that sometimes, people aren't in complete control of their choices? Of course not. You'd rather point fingers," Lorenzo snapped, taking the steps two at a time and jabbing Timmy in the chest; he wasn't even tired.

Unfortunately, though it was a good point, the bearer wasn't exactly the best. His heart was in the right place (and he'd probably earned brownie points from Wanda), but his head…maybe not so much. Naturally, with Timmy's thickness, that point would never strike again. Wanda mentally slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, that's rich coming from a guy who made me his sex slave! And you're not supposed to be touching me, but you keep jabbing me in the chest! That's bullshit! You could rape me in the hall if you wanted to! You're never going to change!" Timmy snarled and Tootie's door crept open. A pair of violet eyes watched them coolly.

"And you are? You're still furious at us and shoving Tootie away like you were months ago. You won't listen to reason and when I do make a breakthrough, you treat me like crap the next day. Timmy, sweetie, I love you, but I'm stressed out over Cosmo. I don't need this," Wanda murmured and all eyes shot to her.

"You and Tootie argue constantly and when you aren't biting her head off, you're biting mine. Why can't we have a quiet day for once, when music doesn't murder people's ears and I don't have to be woken up by you two screaming in telepathy. Why do you have to pick a fight with everyone?

"I understand if you hate me and I can empathize…but I'm at the breaking point. You need to stop focusing on yourself. Lorenzo's right- not everyone here can do whatever they want. Maybe it's time you stopped grousing and started caring about someone whose name isn't Timmy Turner. Maybe it's time you opened your eyes and realized that you aren't the only one suffering here."

Timmy's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Tootie stepped soundlessly out of her room and Sophie lingered on the edge of the front door. Lorenzo stared at her and could almost see the frustration surging through her. Sophie, meanwhile, knew she was nowhere near finished. The hardcover in her right hand grew slick with sweat.

"Do you think Sophie wants to be here? Do you think it's fair she was dumped here and her parents can't remember her name? Do you think she wants to hear you two sniping at each other? Did you ever stop to think that maybe she's lonely? No, of course not- you never see her head because it's always buried in a book. You don't even consider the possibility she might want someone to talk to," she snapped and the spirit by her shoulder bobbed and weaved through the air. Sophie blinked, finally placing him. Cosmo gave her the strength to speak her mind, lest she go entirely mad. She sighed inaudibly; Wanda had to learn to release her emotions more readily instead of plugging them up.

"And me- do you think I like having Cosmo worse than dead? Do you think I like waking up cold and alone? I…I miss him!" Words failed her and she plummeted to the couch. All four spurted towards her, Timmy flying down the stairs with Tootie at his heels. Yet when they hovered by the cushions, none moved. Wails ensued from the diminutive pink fairy and Lorenzo wrapped his arms around her; she pressed her face into his chest.

"We'll help," Timmy said before fully fleshing out his plan. Tootie, Wanda, Lorenzo, and Sophie all blinked at him, bewildered. Tentatively, he stroked her curls and she whimpered in his creation's arms.

"I don't know how…but we'll bring Cosmo back."

…

Offering the mirror a futile smile far shorter than she thought, Vicky heaved a sigh and swallowed her breakfast back down. Nausea rocked her and forced her lamentably back where she started. She visited the toilet often enough to call it her perpetual couch. Again with the smile that ended on her face, she reflected that Timmy might say the increment beckoned to her. He would say that the coldness and its services applied exceedingly well. She wasn't certain whether she wanted to punch out her inner Timmy or sulk.

Mark nudged their link, but she blockaded him. Between the company of him and the toilet, she preferred the latter. When she needed it, it remained stationary instead of fleeing her. Bastard. This was all his fault, too. If he hadn't forced her to have sex with him, then she wouldn't be in this predicament.

Ignoring the voice reminding her steely Mark was no rapist; she gritted her teeth and dug her nails into her fleshy upper arm. A sharp shriek rent the air and she shuddered deeply, hoping the pain procured would not exist and she might return to a semi normal life. Unfortunately, reality refused to yield to appease her.

Where had everything fallen apart? Was it upon meeting Mark? No. It all emanated from bucktooth loser and his crappy fairies, both of whom, to her knowledge, were utterly miserable. Good, let them be. Let everyone be miserable because she was.

Maybe she ought to assert that misery onto Tootie and relish her reaction. Maybe another's suffering would deter her mind from its shocking conclusion- she was pregnant and about to have a child. Though she'd been pregnant for months, she still hadn't made peace with that revelation. Its insinuation ate away at her consciousness like a strong acid; the green liquid burned everything in its reach.

((My dearest Vicky, you cannot avoid me forever,)) Mark prodded, but she simply ignored him. Disappointment and concern flooded their link and she shook her head. Perhaps he ought to have contemplated her reaction ere he endeavored foolishly. Perhaps if he had never come here…

But would she have been happier not knowing him? Was that the hormones, the guilt, and the self resentment speaking? Would she truly be happier alone? Then she'd endure Lorenzo alone… a fate worse than death…

((Forever is a very long time, love,)) he continued, unhampered. She blinked at his persistence but it unfazed her. Foolish alien, he had no idea how to contend with this. After all, hadn't he just run away? He was barely fit to father her child, much less speak through telepathy.

Swallowing hard, she pressed her nails into her stomach and shrieked again, higher and less restrained. Whatever movement upstairs ceased and she could almost feel their eyes on her. What would they say now? Would they mock her? What did they have to mock when their lives were hardly better? Or was it because she deserved their derision? Was this karmic retribution?

Suddenly stern, Mark murmured, ((Harming yourself solves nothing.))

Trembling angrily, unnerved by his unflinching calm, she snarled, ((Shut the fuck up! I don't need advice from a deserter!))

Silence. Silence absolute in which her blood trickled down her leg and slowly traversed to the ceramic bowl. Its dripping somehow amplified the silence instead of breaking it. The minute splash echoed only in her mind.

Sadistically, she enjoyed his anxiety. Now he might empathize and understand the quagmire in which he'd thrust her. Now he might have a taste of his medicine. Now was the winter of her discontent, made glorious summer…only this summer wasn't glorious at all. It sucked.

((What are you talking about? I did not desert you, dearest Vicky. I went to find a job so we don't have to mooch off Timmy,)) he answered honestly, yet her blood boiled. Nausea rocked her again and she pictured the toilet almost longingly. Disgusting, utterly and completely disgusting. She loathed what she'd mutated into.

((Liar,)) she hissed. Of course, it was impossible to lie via telepathy, but the point was moot. If she wanted him to be lying, then he was. She contorted reality and facts to suit herself.

Perhaps he sensed the futility in arguing, because he vanished. She thought she detested his company, but his absence haunted her. Maybe she had no idea what she wanted right now. If only she weren't so confused.

Glaring at the toilet, she wondered what the others were doing and then decided she didn't care. Whatever they wished had nothing to do with her and she was, quite frankly, grateful. She wanted to pity herself a little longer.

…

Wanda stared, disgruntled, at her husband's prone form. Tootie smiled encouragingly and Sophie nodded, but, for once, the small pink was completely and utterly lost. Sophie repeated "finding his center" and then searching for the path to his soul, but those words meant nothing to her. They really ought to, but her mind drew a complete blank. Perhaps it had more to do with her brain's stubborn refusal to leave this body lest she be beset again. Whatever the case, it irked her greatly. A simple task like astral projecting never seemed so difficult and frustrating.

"Maybe we ought to take a break," Sophie suggested meekly after Wanda continued to fail an hour later. At least for their part, Tootie and Sophie kept utterly silent, both undoubtedly lost in their own myriad of thoughts. She pitied them, but her pity mingled with frustration. Why couldn't she get this right, damn it? Why couldn't she release that last block?

"No!" Wanda snapped. They were welcome to leave, of course, but until she puzzled her way through, she was not budging an inch. They exchanged a weary look, Sophie's many years older than her actual age. Wanda wondered if under different circumstances, the two might have been friends. Their personalities were similar in certain aspects.

"We're not getting anywhere," Tootie pointed out, nudging the open magick book at her side. Wanda's heated gaze swept it and the thirteen year old girl. Tootie retreated, uncertain. Though she'd missed her actions under Juandissimo's influence, she'd probably heard a version from Timmy. Sophie squeaked and recoiled as well. Some impressions never died.

"You're not linked to Cosmo," Wanda replied, folding her arms across her chest. She was too exhausted to sugarcoat her words. Besides, a few more hours ought to do it. If she didn't collapse here on her bed, she'd think of something. She always did. That was why they weren't all dead right now.

"True…but, we, I mean, I have telepathy. I can probably help if you let me," Tootie retorted, folding her own arms across her chest. Wanda blinked, noticing the height difference. That was another thing she disliked about aging humans- they grew up and she had to look up to them. It's hard to take a creature seriously if they're the size of a child.

Wanda glanced at Sophie, wringing her hands and looking helpless. Truth be told she hadn't invited her because she unequivocally required her aid but because she understood Sophie felt fairly useless. Timmy and Tootie hardly gave her a second glance at mealtime and she spent too much time surrounded by books. At least here, she might be able to feel a sense of belonging.

Conversely, however, Tootie's words reminded her she preferred working on her own. Of course, that hadn't served her terribly well recently, but the fact remained she was usually her own support group. Cosmo twitched at the other end of the bed and her face fell. How long would she be able to deny aid before he completely deteriorated? This was her fault…all her fault…

"At least take a break for dinner," Sophie cajoled demurely, eyeing Cosmo apprehensively like he would spring to life and shake her. The pink haired fairy stroked his cheek, cold to the touch. In every aspect, he was fading away from her. Would one more supper constitute the difference between life and death? Would it make any difference at all?

One more dinner could mean the last dinner I have while he still subsists, she thought miserably and clutched him like a life preserver. Tootie and Sophie shared yet another indecipherable glance and came to a silent agreement. Nodding to each other, they gently disentangled her from Cosmo, yanked her by the arms, and hoisted her down the treehouse steps to the house.

…

Lorenzo DeMedici watched Timmy Turner and smirked, his beloved sire fumbling to express himself adequately via a love letter. Drafts littered the living room floor and yet the only accomplishment was the absurd amount of paper he'd wasted. He'd snatched an entire sheaf, plunked himself down at the table, and scribbled out his apparently ineffable emotions. The ink blotted on the fifth line, he cursed and it sailed through the air to land at the foot of the stairs. One thing could be said about this- he certainly had a marvelous arm. Naturally in his eyes, that wasn't the only thing that he found marvelous.

"If you bury enough of those in the rug, you won't start a wide ruled tree," he teased and perched on the landing, his feet on the topmost step. Timmy shot around so quickly, he nearly toppled over. The pencil flew out of his hand to land by the TV and Lorenzo observed its flight lazily. Tisk, tisk, he hadn't learned any manners in his absence.

"What do you want?" Timmy snarled, cerulean eyes burning. Yet another crumpled sheet joined its siblings. The instant Wanda, Tootie, or Vicky caught wind of this, his feelings would be the least of his worries. Besides, Lorenzo privately thought the best way to express your feelings was writing it in blood. Short and sweet.

Smiling annoyingly, he merely shook his head and placed a finger to his lips. How he missed their bond and his power over him. Of course, that power had been wrought through threats, intimidation, and manipulation of the truth, but at least he'd held him in his arms. Oh, to wield such power again.

"Can't I watch you without being judged?" he replied demurely and smiled coyly. Timmy threw the next draft of his letter at his face. It struck home, bounced off, and landed three feet away from the bottom of the stairs. Lorenzo smirked, relishing his fury. He remembered when he taught him to destroy Cosmo and Wanda and how he used his fury against him. Let your outrage pour through you…let it consume you…

"Can you look at me without wanting to fuck me?" Timmy snarled, hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The thirteen year old sprang to his feet and crossed the room to glare at his creation. Venom lined his voice and his whole body quivered furiously. Despite the rage eminent, he smirked calmly. He only wished he had the same equipment as that storage shed. He moved into the same defense position he'd utilized many times before.

"Now, now, Timothy, such words are unbefitting, lewd, and completely inappropriate," Lorenzo replied, smirking. Timmy darted up the stairs and snatched his collar. Despite the bursts of breath from his nostrils, the smirk remained fixed. Not even Timmy's glittering eyes, sparking maliciously, halted him. It'd been far too long since he had prey like this.

"Fuck you!" he snapped, flinging himself at him. Of course, he'd easily forgotten the first rule of combat and left himself wide open for another attack. However, that wasn't the type of game he wanted to play tonight. The instant Timmy came within arm's length, he wrapped his arms around him and crushed him against his chest. A surprised gasp escaped the smaller boy, but Lorenzo ignored it completely. Instead, he buried his head in his hair and massaged his back.

Spidery fingers stroked his cheeks and slipped under his shirt. Timmy froze immediately, paralyzed with fear and the memories flooding back. He furiously ordered his limbs to operate, attack, anything, but they refused. Instead, he stood like a bump on a log while Lorenzo's fingers caressed his bare back. The scars were still there…the ones Wanda hadn't seen…

A faint whine from his protégé and he glanced down, the mood unbroken. "Stop…"

He had no intention of stopping. He'd waited too long for this moment to arrive and now that it had, he'd rather slit his throat than pass it by. Fuck the frach, fuck anyone who got in his way. Timmy was his and his alone. He hadn't suffered all that way to be denied his treat.

Timmy trembled badly in his arms and whispered the one name that would bring him release from this nightmare. Panic stricken, Lorenzo pressed his lips against his in the hopes the command would not have summoned her. The hand under his shirt shifted to the front and stroked his nipples. This, lamentably for Lorenzo, was as far as he got.

"LORENZO DEMEDICI!" Wanda bellowed, eyes blazing like her wand. Before he even saw it move, her wand cast a spell flinging him hard into the living room wall. There was an audible crack and when he slid down to the floor, he felt matted blood on his head. This was nothing compared to her fury.

"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH MY GODSON!"

All the resentment, indignation, and self loathing at failing to find Cosmo materialized and she had a scapegoat. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't broken the cardinal rule she'd set out for him. At least she had ample reason to chastise him…and maybe abuse her magic a little. A barrage of spells whacked him upside the head, dangled him by his toes on the ceiling, and slapped him in the face. Timmy stared, nonplussed and frankly unnerved by both his godmother and Lorenzo's advances. He spurted up the stairs and never looked back.

"You! We had a deal, The Other, and you broke it. You were feeling up my godson and if I hadn't arrived when I did, you might have had your way with him again. I don't know what you were thinking or if you were at all, but this cannot be permitted to continue."

He swallowed hard, glancing away from her. She placed her hands on either side of his face so he couldn't break eye contact. Another wave of her wand and a cold tide coursed through him. He was about to find out what was worse than being stuck in a mirror.