A/N: Since Mr. Wood and Wally are separate characters in the canon, I'd been wanting to do a piece where they interact, hence this one shot.
(If you haven't ready Slappy's Nightmare and were curious, Mr. Wood has red hair & green eyes. Wally is identical to Slappy, having brown hair and blue eyes. If Stine officially retcons that in future books, that's his prerogative, but for me, I prefer the original canon of them being separate beings. It's much more interesting that way to me and has more potential for fanfics imo.)
And, yes, I'm aware that I Am Slappy's Evil Twin does retcon some of Slappy's origin story, but this fic is based on the old backstory where Mr. Wood and Slappy came to life at the same time at the toy maker's death.
The redhead dummy barely weighed a thing, but his brown-haired doppelganger had to step carefully to keep the lifeless bulk balanced on his thin shoulder. The living dummy shuffled down the dark hallway, and the floorboards squeaked beneath the old carpet, but he feared no one coming out to catch him in this house.
The dummy pushed open the ajar door to the living room. He had left the squat table lamp on, and it cast its dim rays over a tidy but filled space. Stacks of spell books alphabetically arranged formed a miniature labyrinth around the sofa, and a cold, miniature cauldron sat beside an unplugged hot plate, waiting for use. On top of the old television set, a gray tabby twitched her tail at the intruders, but the brown-haired puppet ignored her as he carried his burden to the dog-sized cage in the center of the room.
He slung the redhead onto the floor of the small prison and arranged the lifeless hands over his flat stomach and adjusted the redhead's flannel shirt to hide the exposed, unpainted belly. The redhead's green eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and even in sleep his smile appeared harsh and cold. Freckles dotted his exaggerated cheeks, and the brown-haired puppet briefly touched his own visage, perfectly identical to this younger sibling save for his blue eyes.
The living dummy rose, exited the cage, and placed a magical lock on the door. He tugged his white-and-red checkered sports jacket to straighten it, then saluted the gray tabby. "Here we go, my dear."
The striped furry tail danced higher and harder.
"Behave yourself," he warned before he turned back to his lookalike. Then he spoke the words which he knew by heart. "Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano."
He gave the redhead a moment to wake up and to observe the ceiling above and the muted sounds around him to get his bearings. Then he pressed his face against the bars. "Good evening, brother."
The redhead puppet smiled up at the ceiling, silent and still.
"I'm not a human, so you can drop the act," he said. "I promise I'm a friend."
The green eyes slowly blinked. Then the grinning head rolled to look at him. They regarded each other in silence like an odd mirror. The redhead's wooden mouth grew to a sneer, and he sat up.
"Do you know who I am?" the brown-haired one asked.
"Firewood if you don't release me," the redhead growled in a throaty voice. "You look like me, so you're probably one of the rejects the toy maker still had lying around when he died."
The brown-haired puppet sighed wearily. "You sound like him, but if you were him, you'd recognize me." He shook his head. "Just like Slappy. How unfortunate."
The green eyes narrowed further, and the redhead climbed to his sneakers. "I know that name." He studied the older dummy carefully. "That's the name the Squirt had with the Powell kids."
His companion nodded. "He still uses it. I've been trying to learn his real name. Do you know it?"
"What's it to you, bub?"
He smiled. "Excellent." Then he pressed a hand against his checkered chest and gave a slight bow. "I'll tell you the name I use at the moment, brother. It's Wally."
"Is it your real name?" the redhead asked.
"Only the toy maker knew our true names," Wally replied. Names gave wizards power, and the toy maker had been careful to keep his power over his inventions all to himself, using nicknames instead. "Since you have part of Father's soul, I had hoped you had his memories. But Slappy didn't remember me either."
The younger's freckled countenance morphed into a look of careful scrutiny. "You sound like you've been busy, Wally."
Wally nodded. "I'd do anything for Father. That's why I've spent all these years looking for you." He leaned forward. "What do you call yourself, brother?"
The redhead studied him in silence. Then he said, "If Squirt is going by his Powell name, I'll go by mine. Call me Wood."
"Of course." Wally then reached over and undid the magical lock. "Forgive me for the temporary offense, Brother Wood. I needed to make sure you wouldn't attack me on sight. But my home is at your disposal. Do as you wish. Go where you please."
The redhead shuffled his feet and pushed open the cage—and promptly lashed a kick at Wally, knocking him across the room and into a stack of books.
The large tomes toppled around and on top of his small body, and Wally lifted his brown head to rub the tender area. "I probably deserved that."
Wood flicked his flannel to straighten it, but he made no move to attack his rescuer again. He surveyed the room, squinting his eyes to study the magical objects among the mundane. "You live here?"
"Yep. It was quite the lucky break for me." He got to his feet and dusted his jacket and gray slacks. "An elderly witch took me in, but then poor Ashley had a, shall we say, little accident with a potion she asked me to mix for her." He smiled up at the gray cat glaring at them from the television. "Frankly, I'd say she's the cat's meow now."
Wood rasped a single "Heh."
Wally turned back to his brother. "Since then, I use her house and social security number to get what I need. She has plenty of spell books, and I use the money from her monthly checks to buy ingredients for potions. You'd be amazed with what a magical dummy can accomplish with a computer."
"How do you cash the checks?"
"I'll show you when the next one comes in."
Wood moved around the room, taking in the new digs. Then he hovered over a few of the open books, studying the pages. "You know a lot about magic?"
"Much of what Father taught me about doll magic, but I've branched out into other fields over the years."
Wood straightened. "Then you knew the old man," he said gruffly. His green eyes flashed with what might have been envy.
Wally nodded. "He created me to be his assistant. I learned much of the craft at his side."
Wood raised his red eyebrows. "Was he really as evil as he claimed he was in his journal?"
Wally smiled fondly. "Worse."
Wood returned to the spell books. "Good."
"You look more like him than Slappy does—or myself," Wally assured him. "I believe he intended you to be the slightly more dominant vessel to house his spirit, with Slappy as a backup in case your body was damaged."
Wood chuckled darkly. "Trust me, I make the Squirt look like a twig." He flipped a page, inspecting a nasty drawing of a being going through a transformation. Then he said, "So, where've you been since the old man died?"
Wally averted his blue eyes, drooping a little. "The last time I saw him," he said softly, "he sent me as a toy to spy on a new enemy of his. I didn't find out he was dead until months after the body was found. By then, you and the other toys had been taken away." He raised his head again. "How much do you remember of those days?"
"Enough." Wood then rubbed his chin. "How much of his magic did you learn?"
"Enough." Wally stepped a little closer, holding out his hands disarmingly. "That's partly why we need to talk."
Wood held out an arm, halting him. "Say your piece two steps back, boy. I don't need your bad breath peeling my paint."
Wally complied. "When you were crushed by the steamroller—it was a steamroller, right? When you were crushed, your essence left you, but it didn't all go back into your body. Right now, you have only a fraction of your original soul, right?"
Wood looked at him sharply. "How do you know that, nerd?"
"I dabble in clairvoyance," Wally explained. "That's why it took me so long to find you. I followed the trail of Father's evil to the stronger source: Slappy."
Wood teetered to spin his body around. "He has part of my soul?" he demanded.
"Compared to you, his larger soul's a lighthouse beacon, so I contacted him first. But he refused to help me find you to return your rightful essence, and we parted on less than pleasant terms. I took up the search for you, and here you are."
Wood hissed, clenching his hands. "That snake."
"Your powers aren't as strong as they used to be. That's because they're with Slappy."
He slammed a fist against his palm. "He will die."
Wally calmly held up his hands, but his blue eyes grew serious. "I agree he must suffer, but it was Father's will that you both be functional. That was his plans for immortality, but something must've gone wrong if neither of you have his memories. We need to get you together."
Wood shuffled and teetered with jerking motions, twisting his head about like an enraged animal. His freckled face darken. "He has my soul," he rasped to himself. "He doesn't deserve immortality."
"I'll help you punish him," Wally said soothingly. "The spell books in this house have some wonderful ideas to try out. But we must keep him alive. Once Father's memories are back, then you may decide on what you will do to him."
Wood stopped and narrowed his eyes. "You think you can do it?"
The older puppet nodded. "I remember every word Father ever told me. He designed me to keep the secrets he couldn't write in his journal." Wally's blue eyes widened. "If you'll let me, brother, I'll fix you. You'll be everything Father intended."
Wood raised his head. "I'm listening, brother."
A/N: Since Wally would've been built before "the twins," he would've probably known the evil toy maker, which I think is an interesting part of his personality to explore.