(A/N) - I should be studying! This took too many rewrites but I've finally settled on this ... perhaps because it's almost 2am. Forgive me for mistakes, my keyboard has been acting up. Updates should be more frequent once I get my stupid sculpture done with - been sanding it all day and want to chuck it out a window, ugh. Thanks for all the reviews guys, seriously, it makes my day - keep it up! Enjoy! :)


- Guilt -


"She's here?"

"Of course. She's waiting for me in the courtyard … Constance?"

The witch shook her head slightly, eyes full of regret "I can't."

"You don't have to tell her who you are, you can just –"

"Imogen …" she sighed, shaking her head more visibly now, "I'm sorry, but I can't."

"Aren't you going to tell me why?"

The witch fell silent, eyes focused on her shoes as she stood there, wringing her hands in her anxiety.

"She's supposed to start school this year, but I decided to hold her back."

Constance's brow furrowed, and she met the non-witch's eyes, "Why?"

"She can perform magick, of course," Imogen replied in a humorless laugh, "I mean how did you think I found out she was a witch?"

Constance's mind began to race, her eyes flickering nervously about but she said nothing.

"I was looking into schools for young witches, younger than what they have at Cackle's anyway … turns out there aren't any. Are they just secluded, or …"

"There aren't any," Constance replied in a murmur, absentmindedly as she wrung her hands, breathing coming in short.

"Constance?" Imogen pressed, taking hold of her hands, causing the witch's movements to cease, her brown eyes locking with the blonde's green irises, "What's wrong?"

Constance gripped her tanned hands comfortingly.

"You'll have to home-school."

"What?" Imogen scoffed, pulling out of her grasp.

"Imogen, trust me." Constance insisted, "The only school out there who will take her is Witch Training College, and believe me, you don't want to send her there."

The name rang a bell in Imogen's memory, of Mistress Broomhead's inspection, the first confession they'd gotten out of Constance in regards to the old witch. Constance's old school. Hecketty's old stomping grounds. She could remember the look of fear in Constance's eyes when she spoke of her, what little she did speak of her, and the same look was currently on the face of the slightly older, short haired witch that stood before her.

Imogen's fingers reached for her former lover, carefully, cautiously, reaching up to run her fingers through her cropped hair. The witch trembled at the touch but she allowed it, her eyes involuntarily welling up with tears once more.

"She did this."

Constance closed her eyes at Imogen's words. The blonde cupped her cheek, brushing away a tear that had rolled down her face.

"I can't do this alone, Constance."

"Sure you can."

"I don't want to do this alone."

Constance opened up her eyes, watching the younger woman.

"Grace has been –"

"Grace …" Constance breathed, testing her daughter's name on her lips for the first time.

Imogen realized this, and it was her turn to feel guilty, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you …"

"You couldn't have," Constance pointed out, "I didn't stick around to find out, remember?"

Imogen smiled grimly, looking down, "Grace has been asking about you. I mean, she's been asking who her father is, and I didn't know how to explain …"

"How does Serge feel about that?" Constance asked, trying to hide her disgust at the mere thought of him but she failed miserably.

"Serge was never in the picture," Imogen explained, "I got a paternity test, it was inconclusive …"

"You shouldn't have …"

"Well I wasn't about to let him raise a kid that wasn't his," Imogen explained in annoyance, "I knew it all along as well, that she was yours. How could I not?"

Constance looked away, riddled with guilt.

"Are you going to meet her?"

Constance shook her head once more, resolutely, biting the inside of her mouth to quell the tears.

Imogen sighed, "Fine."

"Imogen …" Constance called as the non-witch opened the stock room door and began to storm out of the classroom.

Imogen stopped in her tracks reluctantly, and looked over at her.

Constance's lips trembled as she struggled to form the right words, but then she gave up with a small sigh.

"I'll walk you out."


(A/N)- we'll meet Grace in the next chapter ;p reviews please! I got a quiz Tuesday and my project is due Wednesday and I'll be doing nothing but crying, studying, and sanding until then, so more than ever your reviews would really mean a lot to me! :)