A/N: I don't even know what I'm doing here. Honestly. So, I apologize for the wait, and if this isn't that good. I'm just not really sure where I want this to go. Thanks for sticking with me through this though.
Glitch wiped the sweat from his forehead and threw his goggles off. He had a ring of soot around his eyes from where they'd been, but didn't care. Nor did he care that he'd singed his clothes, that'd he'd burned his hands, or that he was hungry. At this point, dying would be a blessing. Perhaps if he died before he finished this infernal machine, the Witch wouldn't be able to use it, and she wouldn't kill Wes. With a flash of sudden insight, he realized he was passively committing suicide; not eating, not tending his wounds, hardly sleeping; it would all catch up eventually.
Following that thought came a crushing wave of guilt. He couldn't leave Wes to the Witch's "tender care", no matter how much he seemed to enjoy it. He would snap out of it eventually. Nor could he abandon Wyatt, or the others. They'd worked so hard to get to this point, if he just gave up…With renewed strength of will, Glitch reached for the small plate of bread scraps set aside for him and bit of a chunk.
"See you're eating then," Tony leaned non chalantly against the door frame, playing with the curls at the base of Wes's neck, which was encased in a thick, metal studded leather collar. A leash trailed from the collar to Tony's hand. Wes was all but melting into the touch, his expression vacant but blissful. Glitch tightened his grip on the screwdriver in his hand, the leather of his gloves creaking. "My Mistress gave him to me as a job well done. Do you like him?" Tony jerked the leash, pulling Wes to stand in front of Glitch. "He's so soft and innocent. And obedient to boot. I think I prefer this model to the first." Glitch fought to maintain his breathing and not forcibly give Tony a lobotomy with the screwdriver.
"Is there a particular reason you're here? Other than to remind me of what I risk losing should I choose not to cooperate?" There, that had damn near been civil. "My, what a big vocabulary you have. I can see where Wesley gets his intelligence. Though, I prefer him like this, quiet, speaking when spoken to. I'm not one for conversation per se, more body language." The smirk barely started to appear on Tony's face when Glitch's foot, in its heavy work boot, smashed into it. Blood flew in an arc from his lips and dripped from his nose. He inadvertently yanked on Wes's leash, choking him until the boy fell to his knees. His cheek was brilliantly red when he scrambled to his feet, snarling at Glitch, who was panting; fists raised and ready to fight.
Tony spat blood at Glitch's feet, and bared his teeth in a vicious grin. "Y'know," he said almost conversationally, "once your son here is done powering my Mistress's machine, he'll be useless to me. And you, you won't have much of a purpose either. My Mistress is considering giving you to me. I'd remember that if I were you." Tony got shakily to his feet, and jerked Wes to his by the leash. Without another word, they were gone, locking the door behind them.
The screwdriver fell from Glitch's suddenly nerveless fingers. He tore off his gloves, throwing them against the far wall. The cot shuddered as he stumbled into it, his breath coming in short gasps and tears blurring his eyes. He brushed at them, scowling. Crying wouldn't get him anywhere. Crying was for the weak, and he couldn't afford to be weak now. Not if he was to save Wes. Saving himself wasn't a priority, but his son…that took precedent over all. Seeing how Tony treated him was the push he needed to work his way out of this disaster.
Despite the display he'd put on, Cain had no clue as to how to rescue Glitch and Wes. He paced around the Tower, looking for weaknesses in the construction even though he knew the chances of one existing were slim to none. Still…he had to do something. He craned his neck back, straining to see the top of the Tower. There were no windows, no weaknesses, nothing. No way in or out other than the door, which was unsurprisingly locked and bolted. Disappointed, he scuffed back to the small camp the others had set up, not too far from the Tower.
"Any luck?" DG asked, passing him a plate of food. "No. That damned Tower is still locked down tight," Cain growled, shooting a glare at the offending eye sore. "Didn't really expect anything to have changed in the few days we've been here," Blake muttered. Neither had Cain, but he couldn't give up hope. No, he had to believe he could save the rest of his family. Either DG read his mind, or she just knew him that well, because she pat him on the shoulder, "We'll get them Wyatt. Have no doubts about that. We'll rescue them and knock her off her pedestal." "I know kiddo, I know. But it's the how we're going to do this that's bothering me. There's no way in, no windows or anything." "And something tells me we can't just have Glitch pull a Rapunzel," DG sighed. "A what exactly?" "Rapunzel. It's an old fairy tale, of a princess trapped in a tower by an evil witch. And the princess happens to have really long hair. The prince, her true love comes to see her, and calls up 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair' and she does, and he climbs up her hair and rescues her." "Glitch isn't a princess though, and I'm not a prince, and he doesn't have long hair. Not since you sheared him." "I know, I said he couldn't. There's not any windows anyway."
Wren half listened to the adults talking from where she sat apart from them. She missed Wes, and Uncle Glitch. But, her mom's idea had sparked her imagination. True, they couldn't pull a Rapunzel, but there were other fairy tales that had been read to her in her childhood. Perhaps one of them… "Mom?" "Yes Wren?" "Do you have a copy of the fairy tales you used to read to me when I was little?" "I can get one. Why?" "I'll explain once I've read through it," Wren answered. "All right," DG said slowly, going for her mirror to ask her mother for the copy of the stories. It arrived about an hour later, a dusty, leather bound old tome, with numerous book marks and dog ears. "Care to enlighten us?" Blake asked. "Later. I'll be in my tent," Wren said without looking up from the book.
She had absolutely no intention of enlightening them. Her plan, when she thought of it, would no doubt be dangerous. They'd never let it unfold, or they'd tweak it and twist it until it would never work. They, being grown ups, would insist on taking part, and to Wren, she was the only one who could pull it off. Too many of them, and of course the Witch would discover the plot. But just one, her, the youngest, no one would ever suspect. Though of course she'd take precautions to ensure her own safety. Now she just needed a plan.
By the beam of the flashlight her mother had loaned her, Wren thumbed through the well loved book, a small wire bound notebook and pencil in hand. She scribbled down notes, finding both the strengths and weaknesses in each short story, and how they could be used to her advantage. Periodically, her mom, dad, Uncle Wyatt, or the others would check in, to see what she had come up with, or whether she was ready to share. But naturally, she was not, and she told them as such, and that it was getting late, and was going to bed. Which sent the adults shuffling to their own tents as well.
Were one to look out upon the tents at midnight, they would have been surprised to see one glowing faintly. And their curiosity may have lead to the Witch being alerted. Fortunately, no one happened to glance out at that time. Even more fortunately, the wards that thrummed in the bricks of the Tower distracted from the simple magic Wren was using to set her plan in motion. It was rather like if someone tried to hear a kazoo over the roar of a dozen trains bearing down on them; impossible. That isn't to say Wren wasn't powerful, what she was doing wasn't something a kid could do, it took power. She laid out a crimson cloak on the floor of her tent; the idea she borrowed from Little Red Riding Hood. With a deep breath, Wren placed her hands on the hood of the cloak; they started to glow, and slowly, taking pains to ensure that every inch of velvet was covered, she ran her hands down it. The cloak glimmered for a moment, before returning to its regular deep red. With luck, it would render its wearer undetectable.
The next step was taken from Snow White. An apple, procured from the bag of food by her parents' tent was checked all over for any bruises or bugs. Finding it in perfect condition, Wren cupped it in both hands and thought of Wes; of every moment shared, the good times and bad, what she felt about him, all of it, and poured it into the fruit. When she found Wes, and he ate it (which he would, she'd see to that), all his memory would return, and he'd be free of the Witch. Finally, to ensure she'd find her way out of the Tower, she borrowed Hansel and Gretel's idea; however, instead of bread, Wren planned to use beads from a necklace, which she'd enchanted to glimmer different colors when only she stepped near, to be sure she'd see them and no one else.
Wren spared one last glance over her shoulder. The tents were peaceful in the moonlight, light snores coming from a few. Before she had a chance to reconsider, she wrapped herself in the cloak, and disappeared altogether. On the faint rustle of grass as it bent against the wind indicated that something was there. Surprisingly, the door opened at her touch, swinging silently in to admit her. The first bead clinked to the floor, glowed softly for a moment, and then was still. The process continued, beads dropping from seemingly nowhere as Wren sought out the stairs she knew must be near. In truth, she had only planned on getting into the Tower, and how to restore Wes's memory. She hadn't thought of what to do about the Witch, or how to find Wes. But Wren was young, and still rather optimistic about the world; the threat of obliteration and time in captivity hadn't diminished that.
Time ticked by agonizingly as Wren explored each wing and level to the Tower. Yet none of the alcoves or niches hidden behind tapestries revealed Wes. She paused to catch her breath and peered upward. The stairs wound their way up to dizzying heights, showing she was about half way up. "Might as well keep going," she whispered, dropping yet another bead. It skittered down the steps and rolled to a stop under a heavy foot, and was crushed to tiny splinters that shone for a split second. Wren jumped at the sound, and pressed herself into the wall. "No use hiding, my pretty. I can smell you." The voice that slithered from the darkness made Wren's skin crawl. It was thick and grating and held a quality like slime scraped from a sewer. The creature that owned the voice was even worse than she could've imagined.
There was something lupine about the beast that loomed above her. The eyes were a bloodshot, murky yellow, eyeing her from a tangle of matted, greasy and grey streaked black hair. The nose flared in her direction, and the thing's tongue flicked out and slid over its large yellowed fangs which were hardly contained in its misshapen mouth. It flexed claws at her, and slunk forward on its hind legs, which resembled large muscular paws. Its ears were pointed and a mangy tail was visibly dragging on the ground. Viscous drool poured from its mouth, sliding down its chin to hit the floor with a wet plop. Wren choked down a scream and tried to make herself one with the wall.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," it issued forth a coughing laugh and lunged. Wren shrieked and tried to duck, only to have the beast tangle its claws in her cloak and wrench her off her feet. The cloak slid off, revealing her fully. The beast chuckled once more at the fear in her eyes, and snapped its jaws centimeters from her face, delighting in her yelp and struggles. "Thought you could sneak in, eh? Rescue the scientist and the boy? Tell me, my pretty, are you frightened? Do I scare you?" Wren whimpered, but otherwise kept silent. Her resilience enraged the wolf-like creature, and he shook her harshly, roaring at her. "Well?! Does my appearance terrify you?!" "Yes!" Wren nearly sobbed, sagging in its grip. Somewhat mollified, he set off up the stairs, dragging her behind, having little care for if she bumped against the stairs or not. What she didn't, no couldn't know, was that he was the least among the Witch's minions, because she thought him the most ugly, a hybrid of wolf and man, and he was sensitive about that. She only kept him around because one, she had essentially created him, and two; he had his uses, including enhanced senses and a certain cruel streak. A cruel streak Wren was about to become very familiar with.
The beads spilled from Wren's pocket as she was jostled behind the monster. It was only through luck that she maintained her grip on the apple, which she tucked deep into the pocket of the sweater she'd borrowed from her mom so long ago at the farm house. In an effort to keep the wolf man appeased, she didn't try to contain her squeaks of pain as she bounced into the stone steps. By the time they reached the room which was coincidentally directly under where Glitch was wearily toiling, she was bruised and aching. She was thrown in roughly, and her captor stepped back, blocking the exit. The room was essentially bare, but for the table near the far wall and the torches along the walls, giving flickering light. Lounging carelessly on the table, in her extreme version of pajamas with her hair down was the Witch.
"Hello princess. Having fun exploring my Tower?" she slid from the table and sashayed up to Wren. She slid her palm under the girl's chin, cupping it and raising it so they locked gazes. Wren spit in the Witch's face. "Little bitch!" the Witch screamed, back handing Wren and sending her sprawling to the floor, blood dripping from her split lip. A bruise was spreading across her cheek, and she was rattled, but she'd managed to hold onto the apple. "And to think I was going to offer you a place as my heir. Take her away," the Witch wiped the spit from her face and turned away. With a leer that was equal parts sadism and lechery, the beast jerked Wren into his grip and dragged her away.
Dawn lit up the tents, and roused the sleeping occupants. DG sat up, stretching her tired muscles. "Wren, you come up with your genius plan yet?" Nobody answered her, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Maybe Wren was still asleep. Maybe she hadn't heard, maybe she'd exhausted herself. But that didn't quell the tingle of unease. DG struggled out of her sleeping bag and, without changing out of her pajamas, crawled to her daughter's tent next door. It was empty, the book of fairy tales open on the half turned down sleeping bag. "Damn it Wren!" she swore, slamming the book closed. "What's up kid?" Wyatt's voice came from his tent. "Wren's gone! She must've snuck into the Tower to save them herself. Damn it!"
Wide awake now, the ever dwindling band of heroes gathered around the ashes of the camp fire to strategize. "The only thing I can think of is a direct attack. No more spying and tricking. Just hit her hard and fast," Cain muttered, loading his last, very last bullets into his freshly shined pistol. "That's what you usually say," DG answered. "So? Tell me you're not thinking the same thing." "No, I am. I'm just saying, you've always been of the 'shoot first, ask questions later' school. That's all. But I agree with you." "So, just to be clear, we're just going to charge in, somewhat figurative guns blazing, and hope for the best?" Blake asked. "That's the idea honey. That and rescuing the kids and Glitch. Any questions?" DG stood, dusting off her jeans. "I think that sums it up kid. Good plan," Cain holstered his gun. "Just gotta hope it doesn't get us all killed," Kalm mumbled darkly.
Wren paced restlessly in her cramped cell in the very bottom of the Tower. It wasn't entirely that bad, just small, dark, damp, and it smelled horrid. But she wasn't chained up, which was a plus. There were two guards posted at her cell, the wolf man outside the door, and, shockingly, Wes just inside. He watched her vacuously, not saying a word from where he leaned against the door. "I don't suppose you remember me, do you?" she asked, pausing in her pacing. "Why should I?" Even his voice was flat and empty. "We've been friends since we were born. We share the same birthday. Oh, and, we're…well, I suppose you'd say we're dating," Wren answered, more sharply than she intended. But it was so infuriatingly frustrating, that his memory could be wiped just like that. Wes snorted derisively, "Why would I ever date you? I serve the Witch, and Tony." Wren forced herself to count to ten before answering. Besides, she really, really, didn't want to think about the implications of him serving Tony.
Deciding that talking to him would lead nowhere, Wren sat on the floor and pulled out the apple. She spared him a glance before polishing it with her sleeve. "Where did you get that?" "My pocket. You know, you're not a very good guard if you didn't see me reach into my pocket and get it." "You shouldn't have that. The Witch wouldn't allow it," Wes marched to the cell wall. "Fine, you want it?" Wren tossed it to him. "It's gonna be tasty, I can tell. Prime age, no spots, very shiny. Why don't you have a bite?" "I don't need it," he said. "But you look so hungry. And nothing they feed you will be as delicious as that apple. Trust me," Wren cajoled. "No one will notice. No one will care if you take just one little bite. I mean, if I can't have it, at least it won't go to waste." Though his eyes were still vacant, it was obvious he was considering her words, and she couldn't help but feel hopeful that her rebellious, rule bending Wesley was still in there.
The crunch as Wes bit into the apple bounced off the walls. Wren gripped the bars of the cell, gazing keenly at him, and the tiny bit of apple slipping down his chin, the way he leaned in for another bite. Then the apple fell from his grip as his hand relaxed uncontrollably, and he stumbled. "Wha…what's…" he never finished his sentence as he crumbled to the ground. "That wasn't supposed to happen," Wren gulped, just as the door to the room swung open. The lupine creature stood imposingly in the doorway, snarling. "Did you think I couldn't hear you? Or did you think me too stupid to notice?" he roared. With two steps he was above Wes, snatching him up by the back of the coat and tossing him into the wall like a broken doll. "Her Highness wanted you alive, thinking of making you her heir still," the thing growled. "But I think you're too wily, too untrustworthy for her. She'll just have to find another heir."
The bars were torn from the wall with a terrible screech and thrown against the door. Wren screamed and tried to run. Wes stirred weakly on the floor, his eyes blinking open. "Wren? Wren!" he scrambled to his feet, clutching his head and groaning in pain. The minion had her cornered, and was drooling over her, obviously planning on devouring her; likely Wes was to serve as dessert. Well, not if he had anything to say about it. Fighting off nausea and a haze that threatened to eat his vision and send him back into the dark, Wes summoned all his strength, all the power he possessed and directed it through his hands and into the fiend. With a howl that grated on the ears, it shriveled and fell, twitching until it let out a long sigh and was still.
Wes sagged against the wall, his energy spent. Wren climbed around the corpse of her tormentor and ran to him, slipping an arm under his to keep him upright. "You saved me," she whispered. "I think you've got it backwards Wrennie. You definitely saved me from her. How'd you come up with the apple idea?" "Oh," Wren blushed, "a book of fairy tales. Same thing with my red cloak, and I'd been leaving beads so I could find my way back." "I have got to read this book," Wren grinned at her, despite still being unable to support himself. "I'll loan it to you once we get out of here." "Tell me you know the way out." "My beads should still be in place." "And if they're not?" "Well, we'll get a lovely tour of the Tower. Besides, we've got to get your dad out first as well." "I think he's at the top. But before we go, can you get this collar off me?"
The beads were indeed still in place, and lit the way in a myriad of colors as Wren half carried Wes through the Tower. They raced up the steps, gasping for breath and trying to stave off the pain in their sides from over exertion. Finally, drenched in sweat, they all but slammed into the door of Glitch's laboratory. "It's locked," Wes jiggled the handle. "Of course, but that's not going to stop us. Stand back please," Wren lay her palm against the handle; after a few seconds, it grew brighter before exploding. The door creaked open, revealing Glitch, covered in dust and a few splinters, cowering under his cot. "Uncle Glitch?" "Wren? Wes? How did you…never mind…what are you doing here?" "Rescuing you off course. I saved Wes and now we've come to get you," Wren said, preening. She was understandably more than a little proud at her first solo rescue attempt. "But now, princess, I've got you."
"Tony," Glitch spat, crawling out from under the cot to glare at the man standing in the doorway. Wren and Wes backed up to flank him. "The one and only," Tony's gaze flicked to Wes, who he now saw was more lucid and himself. "You've taken my new toy from me princess. But now I can have three for the price of one." "I'm-'' "Wren," Glitch silenced her. "Get Wes, and get back. This doesn't concern you. This is between me and him." "Oh really? You think so do you? Look at you, you can barely stand, let alone take me on," Tony sneered.
Wren snatched up Wes's hand, hauling him backwards, though she didn't like it. The tension level in the room was too high, the potential for violence overflowing. "No matter what happens, the minute you two have an opening, I want you to take it," Glitch said over his shoulder. "But Dad!" "No buts Wesley. Just do as you're told, and find the others as quick as you can." Wes swallowed past the bile in the back of his throat, and nodded. The next instant, his dad was vanished practically, engaged in battle with Tony. "Go! Now!" "Come on!" Wren jerked him behind her, and bolted for the stairs back down.
The throne room was a riot of bodies when they skidded to a halt. DG and the others had put forth their plan of attack, and were wading through the minions of the Witch. "Mom!" Wren called. "Wren! Wes! Get out of here!" DG called, dodging an axe. Not for the first time, Wren disobeyed, and she and Wren, who insisted he was fine, dove into the fray. Shots rang out and dust and bits of brick peppered the combatants as Wyatt cleared a path, intent on getting to the stairs and finding Glitch. Corpses littered the ground, yet none were Raw, DG, Blake, Kalm, Victoria, Wren, Wes, or Cain. They were all of the enemy. The heroes were gaining ground, decimating the army they faced, until they were no more. The eight heroes stood in a bloody throne room, sporting injuries of their own, but victorious. Without another word, Wyatt holstered his once more empty pistol, and made for the stairs.
"Glitch? Sweetheart?" he cautiously stepped into the room, his blue eyes taking in the prone figure of Tony on the floor, looking like a porcupine with screwdrivers for quills, and Glitch, who had his back to him. "Glitch, we won downstairs, you can come down," Cain laid a hand on Glitch's shoulder, spinning him around. "Glitch isn't home, sweetheart," the Witch revealed herself, her disguise slipping away. With a mad cackle, she swiped a hand across Cain's face, her nails scratching and blinding him. Crying out, Cain fell to his knees, clutching his face. The room shifted to show Glitch bound helplessly in the air behind her. However, Tony was still dead on the floor. Glitch had gotten his revenge, with slight help from the Witch, who temporarily possessed him and guided his hand. Whether Tony lived or died was no concern of hers.
"Poor, poor Wyatt," the Witch crooned. "He had such pretty blue eyes, and now they'll never see again. He'll never see you, or watch his little boy grow up. Not that he will of course," she laughed again. Glitch cursed at her as best he could with a gag in his mouth, and struggled against his bonds. "Now, I know my machine is almost done. You'll finish it immediately and I'll end your pathetic suffering." Glitch put up more of a struggle, trying in vain to get free, to reach Wyatt. The Witch snapped her fingers and released him, grabbing him and pulling him towards machine. All that was left was the engine, where Wes would be placed to power it; it was a mass of exposed, occasionally sparking wires.
By that time, the others downstairs had sensed that something was wrong, as Wyatt and Glitch had not returned, wrapped around each other and glowing with joy at being reunited. Wren and Wes took the lead as they charged once more up to the top of the Tower, their parents and friends hot on their heels. What they saw was not heartening. The Witch glanced at them, grinning madly. "How perfect, now they'll get to see you finish the instrument of their doom. There's no point in that. You'll be dead soon," she said, noticing Raw trying to heal Cain. But whatever she'd done, nothing he did could heal it. He was permanently blind.
Glitch stared at them all, his assembled family, loosely clutching a wrench. "Go on, sweetheart," the Witch said scathingly. "Finish it, and we can get this over with." "Doll?" Glitch met DG's eyes. "Get Wyatt out of here, and take care of Wes please?" "Glitch, what're you," DG started, her eyes catching sight of the way his fist clenched on the wrench. "No don't!" With an enraged, desperate cry, Glitch swung the wrench at the Witch, the thick metal connecting with her skull before she could react. He tackled her, driving her into the engine, causing an explosion that filled the tower with a blinding light and rocked it to its base.
Sound returned in bits and pieces as DG let go of the protective bubble she'd thrown up at the last second. Wren was sobbing, Wes was holding her back, tears also running down his stricken face. DG was staring at the rubble of the machine, where she could just make out Glitch's form. It was so still, so very still. There was no sign of the Witch other than a wide scorch mark on the floor. "DG? I can't see, is…is Glitch…" Cain couldn't finish his thought, his words caught in his throat, choking him. "I don't know. I can't…Wyatt I don't know." Blake was the one who got to his feet, scooping up Glitch, and laying him in front of Cain. Glitch was unmarked, and appeared unconscious, but there was no rise and fall to his thin chest. DG's breath caught, and she let out a slight sob as she watched Wyatt lay his hands on Glitch's face and chest, trying to will him to breathe. A low moan was torn from the Tin Man's lips, growing into an agonized scream that echoed off the destroyed walls of the Tower.
As the echoes died, all that was heard was the ragged sound of Wyatt crying. Tears dripped from his face to land on Glitch's, but still he didn't rise. Nothing could bring someone back from the dead. So much for their happy ever after. Wren lifted her head, thinking distantly of the fairy tale book lying in her tent. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, not caring what anyone thought of it, she knelt behind Wyatt, laying a hand on his shoulder. "True love's kiss Uncle Wyatt," she whispered. "What?" his voice was thick and broken. "It's worked in fairy tales, why not now?" "Wren, that's a damn book, this is real life," he said, running his fingers through Glitch's still woefully short curls. "Yes but I used that book to save Wes. Who's to say it won't work now? Try it, please," she urged. "Wyatt, it can't hurt to try," DG whispered hoarsely. Sighing resignedly, Wyatt nodded and leaned down to press his lips to Glitch's.
Almost at once, warmth filled his mouth, tasting faintly of apples, as though he'd just taken a sip of warm, spiced cider. It spread through his lips, into Glitch's, and up his own face. Golden light emanated from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and when it faded, he blinked, and it was as though a fog was cleared. He could see again. Brown eyes gazed warmly back at him, the spark of familiarity making his heart jump.
"Good morning sweetheart."
A/N: All together now… "Awwwww!" Do you know how hard it was to write Glitch even temporarily dead? I was almost crying at my laptop. However, I'm not done. I've got a epilogue in the works, so it should be up soon. Also, extra special mucho thanks go out to Headcaase, who came up with the ideas for how to tie in fairy tales. That was the spark I needed to finish. Seriously, thanks. Now I just gotta do the epilogue and that is the end. Thanks for sticking with me this long. I appreciate it so much.