Author's Note: School kicked my ass and then I was prepared to write this update over the weekend, only to discover my laptop at home needs intensive care.

The full quote, courtesy of Yeats, is, "Come away, O human child: To the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand." I felt it appropriate for this chapter.

Chapter Fifteen: With a Fairy, Hand in Hand

High overhead, the full moon cast an eerie glow over the psychotic teacher's house. Juandissimo hesitated, staring at its derelict condition. From the sidewalk, he sensed power and a lesser being might have turned back. Doombringer had made his senses acute and he was aware of the stakes here. By 'collecting' Crocker, he was dooming him probably to death. Juandissimo stiffened. As much as the Dark Crystal was corrupting him and he wanted to rescue Remy and Wanda, he wasn't sure he could condemn a human to death. The hairs stood on his back and he sensed half-breeds lurking. Of course- she'd sent her goons to keep an eye on him.

He waved his wand and cloaked himself, presenting an illusion fairy traps would miss. Aware of the gaze upon him, he headed for the house. He could save Wanda and Remy and ensure Crocker didn't die. Yes, he was adding to an already full plate, but Doombringer had only told him to capture Crocker. She had said nothing about allowing her to proceed unimpeded, although it might have been implied.

He pictured Wanda strapped to an examination table and whined, hairs rising on his arms. Wanda injured because of him would destroy him. Even if he loved himself more than anyone else, he loved her as much as possible, barring his narcissism. He was his own sun and she was the stars.

He crept toward the house, squeezed his wand, and appeared inside Crocker's bedroom. The creeping had been for show, since the half-breeds couldn't always transport themselves around using wands.

Once inside the room, he stared at the human Doombringer wanted so badly. This was the first time he'd been face to face with him and, at first glance, he wasn't much. He could use a moisturizer, a good facial cleanser, decent hair care products, a chiropractor, and cosmetic surgery to remove his ears from his neck. Juandissimo shuddered. For someone teeming with unused magic (which usually manifested itself as bad luck, from what Doombringer had told him), he certainly could use a magical makeover. The man practically oozed grease in his sleep.

Hidden deep in the recesses of his subconscious, too remote for Crocker to access, contained his memories of Cosmo and Wanda. Fairy World liked to believe they removed all traces, but Juandissimo knew from experience they didn't. He scrutinized Crocker and hoped seeing Wanda wouldn't bring the memories back, because the last thing Doombringer wanted was another surprise. It might induce her to hurt Wanda and Remy.

"Fairy," Crocker said and bolted upright. Juandissimo, hidden by his cloaking spell, floated above the human's chest. Crocker inhaled, shook his head from side to side, and frowned, rubbing his temples.

"I whiffed a fairy," he said. "I know I did."

He sneezed and wiped his nostrils with his hand. Juandissimo grimaced. He could now add 'poor manners' to the list of non attributes.

How did one bag a human, anyway? He contemplated it a second longer before producing a burlap sack and shoving Crocker inside. To Crocker, who couldn't see Juandissimo, it probably looked like the thin air was attacking him.

"Mother! Mother, I'm being kidnapped!" he cried. Juandissimo froze, cursing himself for not gagging him first, and conjured up a gag after the fact. The air hung with tension and he waited for Crocker's mother to arrive on the scene. He knew nothing about their relationship, since the details had bored Doombringer.

"Go to sleep, Denzel!" his mother snapped and Juandissimo smirked. He waited a second longer, to see if anything else happened, but there were no further outbursts.

Waving his wand, he brought Crocker back to the warehouse. There, one task completed and it was almost too easy. Then again, who really cared what happened to Crocker as long as he wasn't in someone's hair?

Fear gave him an extra shot of adrenaline and he bolted past Vicky, with the red head in hot pursuit. He barreled around corners, lost his sense of direction completely, and ignored anything and everything he stepped into or crashed through. The being continued its surveillance, only once in a while prompting him to avoid random shadowy figures in his path. Cosmo took the advice without thinking, much like he did everything else, and tried to tune out Vicky's shrieks.

"Come back here, damn you!" she snapped. "I need to get you fixed!"

"No, you don't!" Cosmo called back, forgetting as a dog he couldn't talk. If the being could have slapped his palm to his forehead, he would have. As it was, he sensed mild disapproval and amusement, like Cosmo was a new toy that wasn't performing like it said on the box.

"Ooh, a talking dog," Vicky said and he could hear the glee. "I wonder what you'd say when you lost your balls."

"Um, I'd really like to keep them?" Cosmo called back over his shoulder and leapt over something, stumbled, and righted himself. He was tracking in a thick, unpleasant substance but didn't know what it was. In whatever bare thoughts passed through his mind, he hoped he could get back to Wanda and Timmy.

"Hey, a talking dog," Vicky said after a moment's pause. "Maybe I should keep you and use you as a freak attraction."

She snickered.

He had to lose her somewhere, but he didn't know where he was. The being rolled its metaphysical eyes and pointed due east. Cosmo, running on autopilot, took the being's directions at their word and launched himself in that direction. There was a brief sensation of weightlessness and then Cosmo yelped, beginning to fall.

"What the hell?" Vicky screamed and Cosmo clawed furiously, only there was nothing to grab onto. His stomach vanished and returned to him a minute later when he crashed into cement. Groaning, he righted himself and sniffed, then wished he hadn't.

Surrounding him was dimly lit darkness, with the occasional bulb set at intervals to prevent him from wandering around helplessly. Running water coursed by his right side and the stench filling his nostrils was noxious. It smelled like rotten sewage, mixed with garbage, and both sewage and garbage had been left out in the summer sun for a few days. Cosmo gagged and, again rolling its eyes, the being removed his sense of smell. It ought to bother him this unknown creature, probably a demon, had so much control over his body. It ought to, but Cosmo was never one to think things through. Yet again, that particular function belonged to Wanda.

((Head straight. Turn when I tell you to.))

It was using telepathy, the most sacred of connections, and, for a moment, Cosmo faltered. Wanda could speak to him mind-to-mind, or used to be able to, but that was a function reserved for-

The being sighed, a prolonged affair, annoyed with his inaction. ((Vicky will discover your whereabouts sooner or later. Move.))

Then came the weird, unpleasant feeling of a mental hand moving through the memory folders in his mind and poking and prodding. He saw, for a split second, images of Vicky and heard her voice echo. The feeling vanished, he shook his head but was unable to clear it, and whined, his tail thumping.

((Stupid beast. Move.))

Uncertainty crept into his mind. ((You're not going to hurt my family, are you?))

((No…)) the being replied, drawing it out not as if this was unthinkable, but as if he hadn't contemplated it yet. His next words were ponderous. ((Why would I do that?))

((I don't know…)) Cosmo whined again and tucked his tail in between his legs. In the middle of the sewer, he plopped down on the ground and quivered.

((Move or I will move you.)) There was a sharp spike behind his eyes and for a moment, a red lance flashed in his vision. Then his legs rose, independent of the cowering Cosmo wanted, and he stood again.

((Move.))

You could make a case of arguing with the voices in your head, except this one wasn't going to accept a debate. It was either move or be moved.

She thought she couldn't think of anything else cramped in a ball with poison running through her veins. She had assumed she'd spend her time imprisoned fairly thoughtless, rather like Cosmo. Her lips twisted. That might have been the case, if the training her father had given her years ago hadn't kicked in.

The training hadn't kept her from mouthing off to Doombringer, to her lament, but it should help her transition herself out of this wretched hole. Her father hadn't intended it to work in an iron pit and she had to push past the agony to separate her mind from her body. The pain was here, it was immediate, and it demanded acknowledgment. However, there was a tie there she could break, if she found the proper tools.

Fumbling, since she was long out of practice, she focused on the past. She remembered the way Cosmo had stroked her face and they had curled up next to each other in a Fairy World meadow when they were much younger. The mental image was hazy and a sharp, anguishing cramp wrenched it away. Already doubled over, she opened her eyes and saw her arms' bare skin touching the net was starting to bleed. Swallowing rapidly, telling herself nothing would be accomplished if she panicked, she stared at the sparkling red blood.

What would Big Daddy do if he were stuck in this situation? She couldn't remember. A lump rose in her throat and she heaved, only to produce spittle. To her red tainted vision, it seemed the spittle had blood in it and she shuddered, recoiling from it only to rub against the butterfly net. Was the butterfly net full of iron now and that was why it was cutting into her? Or was it an illusion? The new throbbing certainly felt real, but Doombringer seemed like the type to play mind tricks. She had promised she'd punish Wanda for "lying to her" earlier.

Like earlier, she cast for the dark power, if only to escape, but was too weak to do anything but sink back against the butterfly net. Tears streaked her cheeks and she sniffled. It had been millennia since she had felt this alone and powerless, not since…

Another horrific cramp seized her stomach and she groaned, a slave to the pain.

"Cosmo…" she whispered. Where had he gone now?

Remy Buxaplenty was many things. Patient, however, he was not. It was thankful his progress was visible, because if it weren't, he would have given up by now. His head ached and his body felt hot, like it was radiating warmth at an alarming rate. He wiped sweat off his forehead and sneered. Sweating was for the hoi polloi, the ignorant masses, not for a rich boy.

"Dissimo?" he called, hoping against hope his fairy godfather would appear and rescue him.

The hole wasn't large enough to escape, but he could fit his arm through it. Unfortunately, the physical exertion made him disinclined to see if the wall would collapse through yanking his arm through. Also unfortunately, Remy was tired, hungry, dizzy, and pissed. No one ever treated him like this. No one ever subjected him to this.

Swaying from side to side, he forced himself to the hole and snarled, shoving his arm through. The wall crumbled an inch on either side and, frustrated, Remy slammed his head into it. Other than increasing his headache, there was no evidence it had done anything. Heat surged through his body and he thought about Juandissimo, his uncertain feelings toward his godfather, and how abandoned he felt. Normally, he felt lonely, but Juandissimo took that away. And now…

Feeling like his eyes would burn out of their sockets, he screamed and glared at the wall. In his mind's eye, he saw Doombringer holding Juandissimo away from him and taunting him. Tears dripped down his cheeks and fell, unnoticed, down his dirty shirt lapel. Pure rage was an unusual reaction for someone who was supposed to be cultured, but he was too drained to give a damn.

With a final surge of whatever strange power had enabled him to mar the wall, he shoved outward, pushing the energy into the wall and driving it with all his willpower through the hole he had begun. White rained in his vision and he staggered, collapsed onto his rear, and stared, unable to process his surroundings for a few seconds. His breath caught in his throat and his elbows gave out, leaving him to lie with his head against the filthy floor. No energy left to complain about it or even move, he listened to his heart pound in his ears.

Plaster fell and he groaned. He didn't have anything left in him to blame Turner. Coughing, he rested there and waited for Doombringer to arrive. Whether he'd succeeded or failed, at least today would be over. It had felt like an unremitting nightmare.

Unlike Wanda, he had no difficulty picturing a reassuring memory. His parents weren't nourishing, so his mind naturally flew to Juandissimo. Cradling him in his arms, Juandissimo had read him a true story about how his good looks had saved the day. To Dissimo, he showed a side he dared not show to the world. It was weakness and his parents had taught him the world exploits weakness.

The world was just like Doombringer. Should Doombringer know exactly how much he valued Juandissimo…his throat constricted until he had trouble breathing. He was always someone's pawn. Damn it, he missed Dissimo.