Chapter Text
Scary left with Willy. They got supplies and headed through the door with Scary’s silhouette.
She leaned backwards into it and felt it melt away, almost like a membrane, into a, dark liquid, and then she was falling.
She was inside a scream. Inside the concept of pain, of suffering, and somewhere far away, a little bit of love. She was falling through a vortex of maddening of noise and identical forms that came together and separated over and over and over again.
And then she was standing on Earth.
Willy warned her to avoid looking at the sky, and she did her best to heed him, even through her disorientation.
What glimpses she did get revealed the horror of this new reality. The sun and sky she had known all her life was a massive eye, and the sky here was just another piece of the Eldritch creature that had shaped her life without even an approximation of a thought.
Willy got them moving pretty quickly. Scary was secretly glad, really not wanting to dwell on how her world had just been spun so far off its regular axis that she didn’t even know what to call the planet she lived on anymore.
Willy kept them moving and kept them safe from the monsters. They came in so many forms, though many were still technically human. Scary heard the little voice of Terry try to remind her that they were all victims of the Doodler. But that line of thinking wouldn’t help Scary and Willy survive, so she shoved it away.
They slept in shifts, making sure someone was always on watch. The lack of a sun or any kind of regular light threw her sleep pattern way off anyway, and she just had to adapt to catching some shut eye whenever and wherever she could.
They traveled in pitch dark, no lanterns or magic illumination needed. One of her newest invocations was Devil’s Sight, and boy, it was powerful. Who needed a torch? She and Willy sure didn’t.
They kept their fires low burning and some magic took care of smoke, easy. Food was rehydrated rations and whenever Willy could spare some energy to conjure proper food, they fucking feasted.
They initially kept their presence on the down lo, as Willy was not quite at full strength. Apparently decades of imprisonment could take its toll, and just as Scary could only receive more of his power as the barrier weakened, his own access had been clamped down. Willy explained that trying to open the floodgates to his magic would be like trying to drink the entire ocean through a paper straw. The consequences would unpleasant to say the least.
But after a couple of weeks, when Willy announced he had recuperated enough, that he was done hiding, she found she was actually excited. The magic in her blood was singing. Power curled around her fingers, dancing and flitting between each digit, like dragonflies around a pond. She was ready to fight.
And at first, it was great! Willy got her, he praised her for how powerful she was, how well she used her magic, how many enemies she cut down.
But when one spell ended a monster in a particularly brutal way —she’d never be able to forget the smell— she didn’t react to his praise. She just stared at the bodies and tried not to vomit.
He called her name a few times, and when he touched her shoulder, she couldn’t stop herself from turning to hug him hard. He stumbled a half step, and then tentatively hugged her back.
They were more affectionate after that, Willy’s hand finding its way to her shoulder more and more often. The weight was comforting most of the time. And when it wasn’t, well, she didn’t want Willy to feel rejected, okay? Besides, it was so not a big deal. He was proud of her! He said so.
He told her he thought it was cool when she burned those monsters alive. He put his hand her shoulder and comforted her, and then reassured her she had done the right thing.
She had initially kept up messaging the other teens. Mostly Normal and Linc. Taylor just sent her anime reaction images and memes.
But they kept being weird and telling her to leave Willy to fend for himself. That she should travel with them instead. She always ignored those messages. They said they missed her and wished she was with them because she was so powerful.
Which was a little pathetic and a transparent ploy and she said so without hesitation. Willy had agreed and laughed a bit. Said he found her bluntness and willingness to speak her mind “refreshing”.
Like, Terry Jr. would have said she should try to understand them and give them a chance and they just missed her and blah blah blah.
Willy made it clear he was more than cool with the others joining them, but whenever she brought it up with them in chats, they got so fricking weird and judgmental. So yeah, frick those guys. She had the coolest patron and a world of monsters to fight.
Her phone battery was running low anyway, and she needed preserve it as much as possible, so she tended to keep it off.
Whenever they got a chance to get some rest, Willy was teaching her. Explaining magic, demonstrating spells, and after she begged, even sparring with her.
That was the most gruelling bit. But the aches she felt afterwards less resembled pain when she remembered all her progress.
But god, those sparring sessions did get a bit brutal. Willy was exacting, and made it clear that because she had so much potential, he wouldn’t accept anything but the best from her.
So she tried harder than she had at anything before. And while Willy’s conditions for training her were a bit weird, they were nothing she couldn’t handle. Follow his lead during encounters. If he said run or close yours eyes then to do so without hesitation. The one time he told her to close her eyes, she honestly wished he said to block her ears too. Scary mentioned it to him afterwards, and he said that from then on, unless he specified, to cover her ears and hum, as well as close her eyes.
She hugged him again. The second time she had done so. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back this time.
The last condition for training her was the weirdest. She had to call him sir. Which was so bizarre. But there was something in the way he stood that had her hesitating to say so out loud. Like, she didn’t want to be mean-mean to Willy. He respected her and made it clear he wanted her to respect him too. Something he made super easy by the way!
Willy was powerful. Even though he was still regaining his strength from his long imprisonment, he made magic look effortless. The fact that this guy, who dodged sword strikes as easy as breathing, was her teacher? Sure, if he wants to be called sir, as dorky and weird as it was, she’d call him sir. Of course when she was annoyed at him, she always added a couple modifiers in her head. He wasn’t just strong though, he could be funny too.
Like, for instance, when he snored too loudly or when he tried way too hard to impress her on the dumbest stuff. Like, there was this weird, totally black fruit in a tree, right? Its looked goth as fuck. Willy jumped twenty feet in the air, just to come crashing down on its branches. He got her the fruit, which tasted okay, but the best but was when she saw him rubbing his ass cause he got a ittle wittle bruise. And then he got huffy which made her laugh harder. She called him Sir Bruised, which wasn’t her best admittedly, but the look he got on his face made it hard to breathe for a minute. You know, because she was laughing so hard.
The first time he yelled at her was because she fucked up. She didn’t count her enemies right, and one had snuck behind her while her focus was on her front. Willy threw a bolt of searing necrotic energy and the monster fell just as she turned and saw it herself. Equal parts shame and mortal terror filled her. She could have died. And Willy had saved her.
Willy apologized later. Not the yelling, that was deserved, he had just been worried, you know? But for letting her take it so easy in training.
The next two days were spent in relative silence between the two. Her usual regiment was doubled and they started doing “situational awareness drills”. Basically jumpscaring her when she least expected it. Though she really started to dislike it when he began incorporating actual attacks in these drills.
Mild stuff at first. A flaming hand four inches from her face. Then they were thrown at her. A cold, dull point thrusting towards her, or the wild swing of a club as they walked together. Then sharp blades that glided past her side or brushed the small of her back.
And if she failed to dodge the serious attacks? She was meant to treat those injuries as the most exacting teacher of all.
Pain.
No health potions, no healing spells, nada. He taught her how to bandage, prevent infections or worsening the injuries. But that’s all she was allowed to do. Mind you, healing potions were rare to begin with, and healing spells were sometimes thrown her way during real encounters, so she wasn’t sitting around for weeks, waiting for the gash on her arm to heal the normal way. Three days max typically. But fuck, it still hurt.
And like, she got Willy wanted her to be stronger. She had to be, to survive the Earth her stepdad created. The monsters didn’t care that she was a kid. And some of the humans didn’t either.
But Willy got so stressed and weird when he was worried. She didn’t like it when he yelled, which was something he kind of never actually said sorry for, and lately he had no sympathy when she cried. It wasn’t often, but she vaguely remember he at least used to give her space you know?
Now it was like she couldn’t get a moment to just feel shitty. Willy just immediately gave her something to do. Something about strength coming from people doing things and not sitting around crying about them. She gave him serious stink eye for that. Which led to a lecture of all things. She just wanted some space.
So she tried to storm off. Keyword: tried. Willy immediately stepped in her way. She growled and flipped him off as she attempted to walk past him anyway.
Which was when he hit her. Her brain ground to a halt. This wasn’t sparring, wasn’t training-
He fucking backhanded her and it was only because of his stupid fucking training that she didn’t hit the floor.
Her face hurt, and her eyes stung with stupid time-wasting tears, and her whole body flushed with anger and hurt.
She pulled her feet under her and rose up glaring, raring to blast him, but as her hands softly glowed, filling with magic, she felt something awful twist inside her gut. Something sharp and painful, and the spell she had been preparing just… Fell away.
She tried again. And again, to no end. And Willy just chuckled.
He took her magic. He must have. He took what was rightfully hers. That fucker.
Willy wore a smug grin above her and all she could do was curse at him. She got as far as “Motherfucking boomer asswipe-“ when he snapped his fingers and a blanket of silence fell over the both of them.
So she balled her hands into fists and squared up to him. After all, Scary Marlowe the Warlock wasn’t afraid to fight Willy Stampler.
But Scary Marlowe the teenage girl was terrified.
He had hoped to do this nice and easy. Keep her close, keep her idiot “friends” away, feed her power and teach her how to use it his way. And gradually, bring her around to his perspective. The training had been going so well!
She had been calling him sir, following orders without question, and getting more ruthless in every fight. She had the potential to be strong. Unlike Ron or Terry or anyone else he had seen in decades really, she could one day be nearly as strong as him.
He’d never let her get that close of course, but that potential mattered. Especially when he controlled it.
So he got a bit angry when she disrespected him. Now when Ronnie would get scared, well, he could have lived for centuries off the look he’d get on his dumb face. But Willy hadn’t meant to take it there with Scary yet. She respected him and his power, even though he wasn’t technically, technically at full power yet.
He hadn’t wanted to quite lose that yet. After all there some things you could only do with respect and a lack of fear. Her loss. She lost the privilege of doing things the easy way when she decided to be a little bitch.
She thought what she needed was time and space to sit in her feelings and mope around. Nah. He knew that game. The best thing was to just get on with it. He was helping when he kept her busy. See, he had learned a bit of empathy. He would have gotten those chores done much faster if he just did them himself, but he sacrificed efficiency to try and help Scary.
And what did he get for his troubles? Fucking disrespect.
No, that wouldn’t slide. It was time for a new lesson.
Scary didn’t get to do whatever the fuck she wanted. Not out here. Not with him.
And then, oh wow. She tried to blast him. Movements and words he taught her had him smiling widely. Yeah, he shut that down fast too.
And the look on her face when he did that. Why, it was almost as good as Ronnie’s. He chuckled a little. She’d made the mistake of forgetting where all her power came from. He just never realized how thrilling it would be to remind the kid.
He’d made people powerless before of course. But never so…. He didn’t know. But it was certainly effective.
He just didn’t want to deal with the cursing when he cast the silence spell. It also meant that while he was in it’s radius, he couldn’t cast spells either. Something Scary knew, but it was also something she would know didn’t matter.
Willy had never needed magic to teach a child some respect after all.
He debated where to start. He was not willing to deal with mobility issues. She had to be able to move under her own power, so no bones.
Breath then.
So he strode up to her, side stepped her punches, and threw her leg aside when it snapped up to kick his hip. Not bad, but not nearly good enough. He then used her off-balanced stance to move in with his right hand, intent on firmly grasping her throat.
He then reconsidered. For a half millisecond. This was a lesson after all. His hand flattened and instead pushed under her jaw to send her backwards.
And then while yanking her arm, he broke the finger that she flipped him off with.
She screamed but all Willy heard was blissful silence.
See, a good lesson wasn’t over when the pain had been dealt. No, no, no, it was the aftermath that could make or break an escalation of violence. Though, it required a certain amount of subtlety he had struggled with in the past.
As she lay there, on the damp, cracked ground, he dropped the silence spell. Her screaming faded to quiet sobs, and he came over with a couple medical supplies.
He sat beside her quietly, and tried to grab her hand, which she pulled away and tried curl up to protect it. He ignored the attempt and pulled her arm out. She hissed, but just stared at him warily. He quickly set the bone of the finger, and was almost impressed when Scary’s only reaction was a slight change in her breathing.
He disinfected the area around it, and then did what little healing magic he knew. It wasn’t much, but it would do the trick.
Now for the worst part. Not for Scary, but for him. Physical affection had never been easy for him, and was possibly why he had never really got the hang of the subtleties of this part of the con.
He re-conjured a smoke-less fire at their campsite, took off his cloak and in one swift motion, swaddled and picked up the tired teenage girl.
She immediately tried to kick out of his grip, but only succeeded in tiring herself out even more. He carried her back to the fire in as paternal a bridal carry as he could manage. He made gentle soothing sounds, told her everything was going to okay, and even released his grip on her magic. Her face immediately relaxed as the internal warmth of power flooding back to her was likely helping her heal at least a little.
When he sat her in front of the fire on a soft bedroll, he kept speaking in the same tone. Saying he was sorry. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He didn’t know his own strength sometimes. He just got so angry and it was difficult to control, especially after so many years of imprisonment. He’d made a mistake. He wasn’t looking for forgiveness. He knew he was a bad person. But he was trying so hard to get better. He didn’t expect her to forgive him. He asked if she would please think it over though, at least one night.
And she had questions of course.
“Why did you take my magic?”
And he had answers… Of a sort.
“I didn’t… Pacts, like the one between us, have a built in safeguard. A fail-safe. If you tried to hurt me, genuinely wished me harm, or tried to kill me, it would cut off the magic.”
“…So you didn’t take it then?”
He nodded solemnly.
Her face twisted in confusion and a bit of anger.
“Then why were you laughing and smiling! So fucking sinister and shit.”
He morphed his expression to a similar one of confusion.
“What are you talking about? I never laughed.”
She grew paler.
“Yeah. Yeah you did. Don’t fucking- agh, don’t- don’t lie to me! I saw you, I heard you, I know I did!”
He shook his head.
“I was angry, Scary. And so sorry I hurt you. But… Why would I smile, or- or god forbid, laugh? Are you feeling alright?”
She inhaled sharply, turned to fire and didn’t answer. He decided to let the silence just be for a few minutes.
And then the cherry on top:
“I’ve been thinking… And I’m sorry, but I can’t be your teacher anymore. You deserve someone better. You can tell your friends they were right. I’m no good to be around.”
And that got the first big reaction from her as she whirled to face him. He was prepared for shouting, but her words…
“No! They’re- They’re wrong.” Her voice was scratchy and thin, but her delivery was one of determination. She was trying to reassure him, comfort him.
“You’re a great teacher-“
He weakly refuted her, “No, you deserve better-“
“Where am I going to find a better teacher? This is the apocalypse!”
“Oh, the Forgotten Realms were full of powerful mages, of all types. I’m sure one of them is still around and willing-“
But Scary was firm.
“I just told you, I don’t want a stupid different mage. I want you to teach me.”
“But- I hurt you. Even accidentally- I’m awful!”
And this would be real test…
“So? This is like, nothing compared to what we do to those freaky monsters everyday. You think I can’t take what I dish out? I’m not weak.”
She was pale, still slightly shaking, and her tight grip on the cloak around her shoulders had turned her knuckles white. But her shoulders didn’t hunch, and her eyes didn’t flinch from his as he searched her face for weakness.
And unfortunately for Scary, all he found was weakness. Well, except perhaps, in her eyes. Because the longer he paused, the more her steely gazed settled into something darker.
He gave off the faintest of smiles. One of hope and affection and a touch of guilt. It was a masterpiece of a smile. And the look in Scary’s eyes intensified into something that perhaps resembled loyalty.
He grinned wider and manufactured a single half sob noise as he hugged her.
“No, of course you’re not weak, Scary. I’m sorry. If you’ll have me as your teacher-”
“Duh.”
“Then I gladly accept.”
It's funny... For a moment there, he had been tempted to put out his hand for a handshake.