Author's Note: This is also the second to last chapter of this fic, but unlike Night of the Hunter, there will be no sequel.

Magica's words swirled around in her head and Lena had never been further from sleep. Mrs. B was supposed to have been watching her, but she'd given her the slip. Then she'd given everyone the slip and left the manor entirely. Guilt gnawed at her for it, but she couldn't stay. Maybe it would better if she removed herself from the equation. Webby would be distraught...Lena swallowed past a lump in her throat.

She was hunkering down in her old hole in the wall on the outskirts of town. It looked even more depressing now when she was in full possession of her faculties and not being tortured via a mental connection. Curling into a ball, she pulled her phone toward her. However, she hadn't used it in several days and forgotten to charge it. The battery was dead. Huffing, she pushed it back.

She didn't understand why Webby wanted to be saddled with her. Of course, Webby wouldn't see it that way. For some inexplicable reason, Webby saw her as this strong, stalwart, invincible figure. Lena was far from it. She was weak, she was craven, and she'd capitulated to her feelings, which had led to Poe's death (and Magica's disfigurement, but she refused to feel remorse over that). Resting her head on what passed for a pillow, which was her old hoodie, she stared blankly at the shabby walls around her. Mold had set in, probably black mold, and she didn't care enough to leave.

There were so many better options out there for her. Dewey, for instance, clearly pined for her. Dewey's fortune was tied with the McDragon fortune and he stood to inherit a lot of money. His was a name that came with prestige. De Spell meant nothing. Worse than nothing. It meant treachery, debased behavior, and cowardice. It meant striking out at innocents and selfishness. Why would Webby ever seek to add that to her reputation?

Thoughts swirled about in her mind. She ought to leave town. She couldn't leave town. Webby would pursue her to the ends of the Earth and considering that she was already injured (thanks to Lena), she'd probably suffer further. She couldn't do that to her. But why? Why would Webby want someone like her? She was too innocent, too pure, too good for this world. And Lena was just garbage in comparison.

Tears slipped down her cheeks and, before she knew it, she was crying. She wasn't sure whether she was weeping for Poe or for how wretched she felt in general. All she knew was that she was glad she was alone. The only person who could have sought her out without doing further injury to themselves was Dewey. Dewey had no reason to look for her. Maybe no one would.

No. That wasn't true. As soon as Webby considered herself able, she'd find her here. Lena could go back to Magica's cave, but the very idea made her shudder uncontrollably. No one would know where she was, that was true. That was about the only thing that place had going for it.

It took a long while to calm down and once she had, it was only because she'd dehydrated herself and given herself a headache. Staring blankly at the walls again, she hiccuped and rested her head on her arm atop the hoodie. Since her phone was out, she didn't know the time, so she called it "dead o'clock". Dead o'clock, when everyone was supposed to be sleeping. Webby wouldn't notice her absence for a few hours yet. Maybe more if she got distracted.

She wished she had someone to talk to who didn't hold her on a pedestal or condemn her. The only person she could think of who might fit the bill was Della and Lena barely knew her. Theirs wasn't a strong enough relationship to confide in. She was Dewey's mom and that was kind of all Lena knew her as.

Mrs. Beakley was recovering and couldn't have spoken with her either. Ironic that both daughter and granddaughter had been afflicted by the same problem, albeit through two different means (same person, though). Lena closed her eyes, though she knew sleep was impossible. She was wide awake.

Moving took an effort and she forced herself to plug the cell phone in. The battery was drained so low it didn't turn on right away. She stared at the battery meter as it slowly filled. This wasn't a burner phone. This was technically a stolen phone if you really cared about technicalities. Considering who made the phone, though, she thought Mark Talons could stand to lose a few bucks.

She gazed about her without seeing anything and drifted, not quite awake but not asleep, either. This lasted for an interminable period until two things happened. One, her phone buzzed as a phone call came in and, two, rain lashed the windows. As one of the windows was broken and stuck open, the water drenched her in a matter of minutes. Hastily, she unplugged the phone before it shorted out and cursed as she moved away from the window. If she lay up against the furthest wall, the rain wouldn't be able to reach her.

There was another outlet on the other side of the room and she plugged her phone back in. The battery was hovering around fifteen percent and although the last phone call ought to have gone to voicemail, her phone was still vibrating, as if the person had hung up and tried again. She glanced through her contacts' list. Webby was first and foremost, but that wasn't her number. It wasn't any of the kids, either, because she had theirs. But who else could have had her number? Magica wasn't calling anyone considering she was in the dungeons and Gladstone...Gladstone had nothing to do with her. She wanted nothing to do with him either. Anyone who could love her aunt was a monster in some fashion. It took a special brand of either ignorance or arrogance to think you could change that bitch.

Wary that this might be a trick, she answered. She could always lie and say that they had the wrong number and hang up on them.

"Lena de Spell!" a strict, authoritarian voice snapped. It was rough due to strained vocal cords and Lena winced. Mrs. B. Oh, that's right. She'd given her the slip before. Webby had ordered her to keep an eye on her and Lena had still managed to evade her. While part of Lena was proud she'd escaped her, the rest felt ashamed.

"Oh, you're awake," Lena said in a nonchalant tone. "Huh. I thought that sleeping potion Cal gave you would've lasted longer than that."

"You drugged me?" Mrs. Beakley snapped.

"For a trained assassin, you'd think you'd be better at sniffing that stuff out."

"Get back here this instant!"

"No can do, Granny. I'm staying put."

"When Webby wakes in three hours, I want you back in this house. Or else."

"Or else what?" She knew she was tempting the fates, but she couldn't resist asking. She also knew that the longer she engaged Mrs. Beakley in conversation, the more likely it was that she'd re-injure her vocal cords. If only for Webby's sake, she ought to desist.

"Or else I will fetch you myself! I know you care nothing for yourself but have a care for Webby. She loves you."

"I know she does," Lena said and the mocking tone was gone from her voice. "I don't know why, but she does."

Mrs. Beakley was silent for a minute and Lena checked the phone to ensure the line was still connected. At last, the older woman sighed. Lena felt connected to her through invisible bonds that might have been like nooses at this point.

"You shouldn't be in that wretched hideout in this storm. You'll get sick. And then I'll have to nurse you and Webby."

"You don't have to nurse me," she objected. She'd never been coddled before. A part of her wondered what it felt like. Magica had said that Poe had loved her. Lena wished she could remember that. She wished she could remember anything except her father as a bird.

"Someone has to. I'm sending Mr. McDragon over to you."

"I thought he was your boss. You're ordering him around?" she said, injecting more humor into her voice than she actually felt.

"Do not sass me, Lena. We're going to have a good, long conversation as soon as you get back here."

"Looking forward to it," she said sarcastically and rolled her eyes. Yep, looking forward to that about as much as a nice, hot bath in lava. She could wing her way out of here, but she didn't know where to go from there. The cave was utterly unappealing and while she knew her way around town, she also knew that Scrooge did too. The neighboring St. Canard could work, but going over there at this time of day in this downpour was likewise unappealing.

It looked like she had no other options but to sit tight. It wasn't like she could actually go anywhere, anyway. Scowling, she curled into a ball again. As soon as Webby could talk, perhaps she'd attempt to persuade her out of Bonding with her. Webby didn't need someone with so much emotional baggage. And Dewey was perfect for her. It'd hurt like a motherfucker to wrench Webby away from her, especially after everything she'd endured, but it was for the best, wasn't it?

"Lena?"

"Hmm?" She'd thought Mrs. Beakley had hung up the phone.

"Ten minutes."

"Whatever," she said and hung up. She looked up at the broken skylight above her and wondered how much of a deluge it could stand before it shattered. With her luck, the glass would come down on her head. Perhaps it'd kill her. Then Webby would have no choice but to stick with Dewey. Wouldn't that solve all their problems?

Fatalistic. That's what she was. Webby would be inconsolable if she died and Lena pushed that uncomfortable thought to the side. Truth was that Lena didn't want to live without Webby either. She just thought it was horribly selfish of her want to her.

When Scrooge arrived, he found Lena in a ball on the floor and staring up at the skylight. It was cracked and seemed to be breaking further. Hissing, he scooped her up into his arms. Her gaze flicked to him and then back toward the ceiling.

"Do you have a death wish?" he hissed at her.

Lena shrugged and Scrooge sighed.

"C'mon," he said. "Webby's worried sick about you. As are the boys. And I dinnae like you staying in this place. You're going to get sick or hurt yourself."

"I can walk," Lena said, pushing away from him. "Don't trouble yourself on my account, Money Bags."

Yet she looked down when she said this and he tilted her face back up to look at him.

"Lena…" he said and shook his head. "You have a lot of people who care about you."

"Don't know why," she mumbled. She shook her head and then, without waiting for him to check if he was following, she darted out into the rain, where she was promptly drenched again. Scrooge sighed, steeling himself against the downpour, and then shifted into dragon form so that she could ride him back. She wrapped her arms about his neck and he launched himself into the air.

Webby had woken up an hour ago and knew that Lena was missing. She didn't know how, but the girl had developed a keen sense of intuition about her best friend over the years. Of course, she hadn't sniffed out that Lena was working with Magica, albeit against her will. Webby believed the best in people, even when she was proven wrong time and time again. It had happened with Glomgold. Of course, Lena didn't believe the best in Magica, but that was because she was too firmly on Lena's side to even consider Magica's point of view.

To be truthful, Scrooge didn't understand Magica's point of view either. What was the point in torturing a wee lass, especially to this degree? If he hadn't come to rescue her, would Lena have stayed until the ceiling caved in? Was she suicidal? Loathing seared within him. He didn't understand how Gladstone could have a preference for her either. Had he taken leave of his senses?

They arrived at the manor and he found Mrs. Beakley waiting for them with towels and fresh clothing. Lena so often stayed at the manor that most of her stuff was here anyway. She ushered Lena away from Scrooge and he could tell, by the stern look on her face, that she intended to give Lena a talking to. Scrooge didn't envy her that. Mrs. Beakley's lectures were never enjoyable.

It was already quite late...or early, depending on your point of view. He hadn't slept well and he didn't think sleep was on the schedule for the near future. He considered going down into the dungeons to check on Magica, but he rather thought she'd had enough conversation for a while. Instead, he thought he'd check on his finances and business deals. And also, it might occupy him enough that he could get some shut-eye.

Technically speaking, Beakley should have been conserving her voice. Then again, ordering her to do something sometimes had the opposite effect. She was quite strong-willed. Smiling, he shook his head ruefully. Might as well tell a bull not to rampage.

Lena returned to the manor and was in the middle of another lecture by Mrs. Beakley, this time about responsibility when Webby came into the room. Although Lena had changed out of her sodden clothes and no longer looked bedraggled, Webby's eyes narrowed. When she opened her mouth to comment, Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat. The older woman had eschewed the tablet in favor of short, concise comments. Calente was looking on and not commenting, which was for the best. Evidently, if the women in this house wanted to try his patience, there was little he could do to stop it.

"I know you left," Webby said, despite her grandmother's giving her the evil eye. Thankfully, she was carrying Dewey's two in one tablet and had written it out via stylus."Dewey went looking for you and couldn't find you."

"Why was Dewey looking for me?" Lena asked, scoffing.

"Probably because of me," Webby replied and then frowned, adding, "Definitely because of me."

On her heels came Dewey and Mrs. Beakley sighed. So much for a nice, quiet conversation.

"There you are," Dewey said. "We were worried about you."

"I get why Webby was worried, but why you?" Lena asked, putting her hands on her hips. She looked exhausted and Mrs. Beakley remembered that she'd suffered a petit mal seizure not so long ago. Like the others, she shouldn't be out of bed either. She ought to be recovering, not gallivanting around. She also shouldn't be tempting the fates by trooping down to the dungeons to see Magica and torturing herself.

"I care about you too, okay?" Dewey said. "And if Webby's gonna choose both of us, then…"

Lena's gaze skittered away from him and landed on Webby. Webby nodded encouragingly and Lena wilted. She was sitting in a chair opposite Mrs. Beakley in her sitting room and the other two sat down nearby. Webby seized Lena's hand and squeezed it.

"Webbigail, what are you carrying?" Mrs. Beakley asked sharply and Webby glanced down at her other hand as if she'd forgotten she was holding a book. Reluctantly, the younger girl handed it over. It was a book about Bonding. Mrs. Beakley raised her eyebrows and Webby fidgeted. Dewey's gaze went between the girls and then landed on Webby.

"I told you," Mrs. Beakley said gently to Lena, whose eyes narrowed.

"You don't know what you're doing," Lena insisted. "You're messing with forces you don't understand. And you don't want me as a Bonded. You'd be better off with Dewey."

Even as Lena said it, Mrs. Beakley could see how admitting it was twisting the knife in her heart. Lena's gaze fell to the floor.

Webby scribbled furiously on the tablet and it read it aloud. "I'm sticking with both of you and you can't talk me out of it."

Mrs. Beakley allowed herself a thin smile. "We're nothing if not stubborn. A trait I believe you share, Lena."

"Seriously, are you okay?" Dewey asked and she wasn't sure who he was inquiring this of. He seemed to be asking the room in general.

"Never better," Lena said sharply and then winced when Webby's gaze sharpened. "All right, I'm sorry for bailing. I still don't understand why you'd want to be saddled with me, but if it's what you want, then…"

"I wouldn't be 'saddled' with you," Webby scribbled out. "I want you. I love you. And I'll want and love you when you don't want or love yourself."

"What about betraying you to steal Scrooge's elixir and the treasure?" she asked.

"You didn't. You had your chance and you didn't," Webby replied. "You care more about me and the others than about material gains. And with Magica thwarted, you're free, Lena. If...if you don't want to be with me and Dewey, then…"

Lena bolted to her feet, which was a mistake because a few seconds later, she collapsed back into the chair. She massaged her temples and grimaced.

"I do," Lena said softly. "I want to be with you more than anything."

"You just don't think you're worthy of it," Dewey finished.

"It doesn't matter if you don't think you're worthy of it," Webby said. "We think you are. We want you. I want you and I'm not giving you up, no matter what Magica's told you. We're gonna be Bonded, all of us. And we're going to dance at that party and we're going to have fun and be ourselves. And nothing is going to stand in our way, not this time."

Lena's lips curved toward a weak smile.

"Nothing," Webby repeated and kissed Lena on the lips. Mrs. Beakley cleared her throat, but Webby ignored her for the time being. Lena kissed her back and when she broke off, she was shaking.

"I promise," Webby added.

"You can't promise something like that," Lena protested.

"We're the Duck family," Dewey said and Lena's gaze shot to him. He smiled at her. "Saying 'no' isn't an option."