Chapter One

"Satan may only have one son, but my sisters are legion, mother FUCKER!"

Michaels roar echoed in the outpost as Cordelia sliced the blade deep. No. She couldn't die. Not yet. NOT YET. Rage filtered through him as Cordelia's sudden lifeless body tilted backward and over the banister. Rage, as he lunged for her.

Rage and panic.

He hadn't known panic since he was a child. Not since his child like father had refused to acknowledge him. He hadn't felt this kind of panic since his grandmother finally gave up on him.

Because WHERE WAS SHE? The other witch! Mallory.

The low hum of energy buzzed, lighting the air with static electricity. And then it flared to life and he fucking felt her. The fucking witch. She was Supreme.

So young. So strong.

She was going to destroy him and everything he'd worked so hard for.

"NO!" He roared again and slammed into the bathroom. He saw her then, submerged in the water. The water surged and churned around her, steam rising from its surface. The water bubbled, darkness forming at the edges until the water was nearly engulfed with it and she was descending...

That same rage filtered through him and he jumped into the water after her. The water sucked him in and he reached her, wrapping his hands around her slender neck.

He wanted to snap it. He wanted to choke the life out of her precious, beautiful body. Her arms rose up defensively, her hands clawing. Twisted threads of his hair remained clenched in her fist.

His chest burned as the water churned hotter around them. Her mouth opened and bubbles rose up. And then she shot bright, burning light up his arms. It burned like fire and he would have snarled if he'd been able. Michael hurtled his own dark energy right into hers in rebound, just as the murky waters sucked them both down, down into ...nothing.

Nothing except her lungs burning.

Her chest constricted as the water surged around them. Michael only squeezed harder until she was forced to open her mouth on a silent, drowned out scream. Water spewed into her mouth and she lifted her hand, her palm slapping over his face.

Mallory tried to utter the words, but more water spewed past her lips. So she whispered them in her mind. Another blast of light from her palm sent Michael jerking back.

He released her.

The water went black.

And then it spewed upward until there was nothing between her and Michael but their heated stares before it all came crashing back down over them.

Mallory jerked upward in the sudden shallow water. Her chest heaved as she sucked in a shuddering breath, air filtering into her abused lungs. Michael mimicked her move, staring at her with such hatred until he looked beyond her.

The water lapped at her waist, reminding her why she'd performed the spell...they needed her to go back in time. She had to stop Michael. Her heart beat hollowly as she guarded herself mentally, preparing...

The spell hadn't worked. Not...right. Something wasn't right. She was wet. Her clothes were wet. Her hair was wet. They were minor details, but they were enough to warn her something had gone wrong. Michael's appearance faired no better.

Another detail was Michael. He shouldn't have followed. He shouldn't have been able to.

He wasn't watching her, though. He was looking over her shoulder. She twisted and looked, her movements suddenly cautious. Her heart thudded in her ears at the sight of The Coven.

The Coven that Michael had destroyed.

And yet it stood proud and strong, tall white columns framing the towering structure. Hope filtered through her for a moment as she stood. The water sucked at her dress before releasing, forcing the material to cling stickely to her legs.

Hope. Until she realized that this wasn't where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be at a time and place where she could kill Michael. A place where he wasn't so powerful. And yet here she was.

The Coven, just like she remembered. Her home. It was different. It was...off. It was...it was gone. It wasn't supposed to be standing.

Michael's thoughts must have mirrored hers because he stepped out of the shallow lake and past her. "What is this?" He accused roughly. She could feel the heated anger and confusion coming off him in waves.

"Your loss." Mallory returned. "You've lost, Michael." But she wasn't exactly sure of that. The how or the why. Or even if he had lost. The Coven was a huge thing and with it, her sisters. If they thrived...Michael died.

Michael's lips twisted into a silent snarl as he suddenly stalked towards the Coven. She took off after him, but he was already up the stone steps and slamming the double doors open with a wave of his hand.

Cordelia stood across the room on the last step of the stairway, addressing a group of young women and men. Witches and Warlocks.

Cordelia. Pain filtered through Mallory, an emotional stab at her heart. Cordelia was alive! But how?! Mallory had felt the moment Cordelia had taken her own life to ensure hers. She had felt the sudden ascension of Supreme in her blood.

"What is this?" Michael snarled again.

"No!" Mallory called out as Michael lashed out, one hand reached for Cordelia's slim throat.

Except he never made contact. His body fell right through hers, insubstantial. He spun around, his wet, tangled hair framing his face. No one seemed to even acknowledge his presence. Not even hers for that matter.

She lifted a hand, but her fingers just grazed through Cordelia's arm.

They were separate from reality. A vague sense of realization set in. Mallory realized in that moment what was wrong. Or what was right. No, they weren't in the past. Michael had done something when he'd connected with her in the water. They had done something.

They were in the future.

A peaceful future, where somehow Cordelia was still alive, the Coven thrived powerfully and the Witches and Warlocks had...united?

Her knees threatened to buckle. She needed to get back. Cordelia didn't have to die! There was hope!

And yet it had taken two to formulate this place. It would take Michael for them to return.

"And our Supremes-" Cordelia said, motioning with her arm towards a door at the far end of the hall.

Michael turned his head and then started in that direction, purpose in each step.

"It's over, Michael. Can't you see you've lost?" Mallory called out before taking after him.

With another wave of his hand he sent the white door flying open, an action that once again no one took note of. And stopped.

Mallory stopped behind him and then moved to his side, staring into the oddly almost familiar room. A long table took up the space with elegant chairs along each side. The curtains were pulled tight, blocking out the bright light. Candles burned... But she didn't notice any of that.

Her eyes were drawn to the couple pressed against the other end of the table. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the long, empty dining room. They both wore black, the long black cape framing the man from behind. Blonde hair was tied at the nape of his neck as he thrust. Mallory caught a glimpse of pale legs wrapped around his waist, a woman's slender arms clinging to his shoulders. The woman's gasps were low, eliciting the man's groans.

The male whispered something and Mallory realized...that was Michael across the room. And the woman was her. Dumb-struck, Mallory lifted her gaze to Michael's own shocked ones. A dull sensation filled her chest as he suddenly smiled.

"Oh no, my dear witch. I think I've won."