AN: This is a very strange, very twisted idea I had for a fanfic; I decided not to let you all wonder about who the only one living was, so I put the POV up. I took my medicine this morning, I swear! I don't know how this started…The next chapters will be longer, honest. Enjoy!
All Fall Down
Prologue:
Pheobe's POV
A small, huddled figure stares blankly at the charred husk that she had once called home, holding two small piles of ash in her hands. She rocks slowly back and forth, back and forth, a hypnotic, haunting motion of near-insane grief. All gone. They were all gone now; the darklighters and warlocks and…demons had taken them all. All gone, all gone, all gone, a litany to drive a saint mad running through her head, the voice that spoke them childlike, the eyes that stared out more than a little crazy. All gone, all gone…just ashes and dreams and, she knows, the Book of Shadows, protected from evil, protected from fire. But what does it matter, the book for three, when only one is left. One left devastated, empty, and so lost, so achingly lost. Three more graves to visit, three more graves, these all empty and cold, urns on the fireplace, full of wood ashes because who knew the difference? All ashes and smoke and gone, gone, gone. No more cookies in jars on the table, no more suddenly disturbed peace, no more suspicions, nothing, nothing, nothing. She hums softly, inaudibly, a child's nursery rhyme in an oh so lost child's voice:
"Ashes, ashes, they all fall down…"