It was Wanda looking out at Wicked now, hurt and horrified (the demon laughed gleefully within). That wasn't how you saved someone. "I told you, I have someone, he's getting my soul back-" Wanda struggled to her feet, backing away from Wicked and her ghosts. She needed to get far away from her sister-in-law who was ready to kill her on principle. She held up her hands in surrender and kept edging backwards, drawing up what little energy she could around her fingertips as a warning. This wasn't a fight she could win without her powers at full strength, but she could pretend if it meant saving her life.
"Please, Wicked, just let me go," she pleaded. "I'll go somewhere safe. I won't come near you, or the baby, again. But I'm going." She never should have come here in the first place, she realized. The demon had twisted the situation to its own advantage, made Wanda appear as a threat just to get its kicks. Now in her overwrought state, she was more vulnerable to its machinations than ever. She had to get away from here, now, to keep Wicked and Joseph safe, and keep herself safe from Wicked. Wanda took one last look at her family before she turned and loped away, wondering what would happen now. If she'd ever see them again, if she was actually going to make it through this nightmare alive.