I'm back! And yea I know this is short but to be honest I don't really know how I'm going to wrap this up...

Enjoy!

Scarecrow's POV

He had been abandoned, all his hopes dashed – he could feel it, welling up in his throat as he looked at the Witch, her round, brown eyes and that angular, elfish face. It was…it was painful! So painful, it was shocking. This must have been the result of a remnant of his past, something that happened between him and the Witch. Maybe she killed someone close to him, a friend or a wife or perhaps a child?

But then why did he feel so abandoned?

Becky and the Witch were hopping about the nanny, coaxing her to drop the device while everyone watched uselessly.

And there was the man. That damned imposter! How dare he? Scarecrow was ready to kill him, he could feel it in his gut, his fists clenched, his eyes glowering with a fury he didn't know he possessed. He had been betrayed, forgotten, replaced! But replaced with what? And why? It wasn't the first time he had feelings without context.

He remembered when Dorothy first led him to the wreckage sight of the Witch, the feeling of horror and dread that coursed through him as he stared at the mangled body, lying dead still on the Yellow Brick Road. He remembered the tenderness with which he handled the Witch even as she screamed and cursed at him in the back of Becky's car, the sympathy he held when he laid his hand on the Witch's shoulder, the panic as she nearly got mowed over for a second time…

And there was that ranting priest at the protest.

"WE ARE SPENDING OUR RESOURCES ON A DEMON!"

"No." Scarecrow had said.