The last installment!

Headcanoned with and beta-ed by graceonce

Cordelia arched her neck, head tipping back until the necromancer could press her lips to the base of her jaw and trace down her muscles with a dexterous tongue. The Supreme moaned, and it took her a long time to realize that the knocking noise wasn't her heart against her ribs, but a tiny fist against her and the girl's bedroom door. She let out a grunt that the necromancer mirrored, their fingers tightening around each other's, but she edged away.

She pushed Misty off carefully and the wild blonde groaned against her upturned lips as she sat up and tried to fight off her flush, the girl doing the same as she fell back against the pillows, breathing hard at the ceiling.

"You okay?" Cordelia asked softly.

Misty huffed. "Just let 'im in."

The older blonde pressed a quick kiss to the necromancer's forehead before flipping her hand out vaguely. Their door unlocked with a stunted click and swung open as Cordelia pulled away reluctantly.

The Supreme's five year old waltzed in, fingers to his mouth and arm tight around his favorite blanket. His hand fell to his side and he looked to Cordelia, brows lightly furrowed.

"Hey baby, what is it?" Cordelia went to sit on the edge of the bed and she opened her arms wide, beckoning him over as Janjak watched her from the door. He climbed into her lap and she pressed a kiss into his hair, her eyes closing as she smelled the scent that was so utterly him, baby oil and lavender. "Hmm, what is it?"

The boy shrugged as he brought his fingers up to massage the bridge of his nose. Cordelia sighed lightly and kept her lips to her boy's forehead, his skin warm. He'd had issues as an infant to cry but had quickly learned from his mother, copying her actions to perfect symmetry. Now she only wished he would talk.

There was nothing wrong with his vocal chords, or his speech comprehension. Enough pediatricians had prodded and examined him and has assured her that nothing was wrong with him, but she had a hard time believing he was willingly mute. He'd taken to sign language instead, little movements at first when younger, taking his hands to his mouth when hungry or pointing frantically when he needed something, but it was Misty who'd taken the initiative to teach him ASL properly at four years old. Cordelia, to her own shame, had been too anxious to even think of the idea.

Now he signed as fluently as any child his age spoke, but neither had ever heard the sound of his voice bar the occasional cry.

Misty sat up, her blush tamed now, and she gazed at him from over his mother's shoulder. "Did ya have breakfast?"

He giggled lightly as he nodded. Of course mama, it's past eleven.

The necromancer wriggled her nose and leaned back into her pillows.

"Of course, Mist," Cordelia echoed, glancing back at her. "It's past eleven." She ignored the mockingly scathing look the wild blonde gave her, noting instead the fists tight around the bedsheets.

Janjak reached up and turned the Supreme's attention back to him. Can I sleep with you?

"It's almost noon, you said it yourself, you can't go back to sleep now," Cordelia chastised lightly. "You won't be able to nap if you do."

You were just sleeping with mama.

The older blonde glanced sideways at Misty but the girl ignored her, arm thrown over her eyes as she hummed, only peeking momentarily to watch Janjak sign his words. She let out a giggle and turned away.

"We were up. We were just talking," his mother said. "We're getting up. Right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"I think Kyle's making lunch today-"

He is.

"Why don't you go help him? We'll be right down." Janjak nodded appreciatively and pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek when prompted before wriggling out of her grasp. He threw Misty a light wave and pulled the door closed shut behind him as he walked away, trailing the blanket on the floor.

Cordelia sighed when Misty wrapped her arms around her waist, but she only looked back and smiled, hands in her lap as she studied blue-green eyes. She squirmed lightly when the girl bit at her shoulder, trying to bite back her laughter, but the wild blonde's soft tongue tracing out to soothe the wounds made her close her eyes involuntarily.

"We're goin' down?" Misty whispered against the shell of her ear. "I thought we were gonna have mommy time this mornin'?"

The Supreme turned in her arms, shifting to place her knees back beneath the duvet, and she kissed the necromancer quickly. "We can have mommy time later, you know that. He's onto us now."

"Damn kid."

Misty yelped lightly as Cordelia pinched her forearm, but her scowl quickly turned into a grin as she watched the Supreme stand, the woman's chest flushing red and her neck turning an interesting shade of purple in parts. Cordelia, at the girl's amused look, glanced quickly into to the mirror and sighed as she traced the patterns with the pads of her fingers over her nightgown.

In a prior life, she'd have gotten angry, perhaps yelled, and the girl in her bed would have stormed out, wild in her demeanor as in everything else about her. But now she only looked back at the ethereal swamp witch laying in between white comforters, the girl's arm behind her head and humming softly to herself, and they shared a smile. Cordelia turned, blushing again.

"Come on, Mist, get something on."

"A nice groove?"

The older blonde turned as she walked to her closet, grimacing as Misty laughed, and the girl shook her head, sitting up.

"Alright, alright. Throw me somethin'?"

She received a skirt a moment later, the fabric landing on her lap in a heap, and she struggled out of bed to put it on as Cordelia slipped into jeans a few feet away.

The Supreme sat next to her son at the dining room table, having helped him up onto his chair as the academy's girls ate lunch around them, the room at a comfortable level of noise. He ate from her plate instead of his own, hand reaching out to grab as she spoke with Zoe, but Misty handed him a fork and he ate with it instead, giving her a grateful smile as she winked. It took a minute for Cordelia to realize half her salad was gone but she only gave Janjak an exasperated sigh, glancing up at Misty who was turned away, busy in conversation with a pyrokinetic close to graduating.

He stayed with Misty when she went to teach her one o'clock class, the girl taking the backyard as it was a pretty day, a warm sun and a cold breeze, to teach zoology, the boy sitting beneath a tree as he watched her conduct a class on Louisiana reptiles. He held on tightly to his teddy bear, repeating the movements she made as she held an iguana to her chest, his mouth lightly open.

Cordelia's smile was soft as she watched the scene from her office window, and shaking her head she closed her blinds and crossed into the hallway, throwing a light wave to Zoe as she taught Latin in the living room, the girls and her seated on the wooden floors. She took the kitchen door down to the greenhouse instead of the outside way in, not wanting to interrupt Misty in her train of thought, but took a moment to turn on the lights in the basement room, fascinated by the thought that if she was to go blind, she wouldn't be able to find her way around.

She'd have to struggle with losing her strongest sense all over again.

She hadn't touched the guilty shears in a long while, they were still placed in a corner of the counters, black with dried blood, untouched as if some magick protected them from being moved or cleaned, even six years after. Instead she used a pair that Misty had gifted her, shifting awkwardly one autumn day. Their grip was comfortable to the touch, padded, and the blades so new they almost sparkled. Like their new life, she mused. Like the Supremacy and like Janjak.

He puzzled her, and she frowned lightly as she snipped at a poinsettia. It'd graced their Christmas table and lived down with her in the greenhouse since, loving the darkness and humidity and flourishing in it. It spoke of a healthy upbringing from bulb to flowering underneath her care, red leaves crimson and green leaves a healthy dark, mossy, color. If only her son would do the same, speak of the same lifestyle, his chocolate eyes wide and lively like hers and his smile always upturned like Misty's, an act he mirrored so easily, but his roots still so shifty in her arms.

Even now she had trouble putting him down when he asked it. She so wanted to hear him whisper to her, begging to be let down to the floor. She'd hold on tight until then, and she'd water the poinsettia.

She bit her lower lip when the greenhouse's door opened and she stepped out of the purple room, closing off the dangerous part of the basement with a quick spell before looking up into Misty's dimpled smile.

"Hi darlin'."

Cordelia grinned, continuing to worry her bottom lip with her teeth. "Hi."

The necromancer walked down the short steps and to the woman's side, smile growing as she framed the Supreme's jaw with her fingers, pulling her up into a quick kiss. Then another.

And another.

Misty pulled away almost reluctantly and pressed her forehead to Cordelia's, her goofy grin quickly returning. "Sorry, I figured I could. Bein' alone down here and all."

Cordelia nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Since there's rules ya had to go and put in so I wouldn't whisk ya away at any moment of the day," the girl added.

The older blonde felt her cheeks flushing and she shook her head, turning back to the vine in between her fingers, a strain of poison ivy she'd been immune to for as long as she remembered. "Is it already three o'clock? I hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, I'm just down here to drop Willie off. I got class for the older girls at four," the necromancer answered. She glanced back behind her, Cordelia following her gaze, and the Supreme sighed as she watched the resident iguana slithering across the floor at a leisurely pace.

Misty shrugged lightly. "Ya know he hates leashes."

"Just don't let him eat anything."

The wild blonde nodded. "What's up with ya?"

"I don't remember," Cordelia admitted, fingering the ivy. "You distracted me." She sighed and placed the plant down, reaching for the girl's shirt and tugging on it until the necromancer came easily, another little sigh escaping her throat when Misty buried into her neck, nipping the skin there until the woman couldn't form a thought. She let herself be pushed into the counter, the dimples in her back warm against the cold wood.

"I put Janjak to bed for his nap," Misty murmured, pressing a kiss to Cordelia's jaw. "But he'll be up soon, he's gettin' too old for them."

The alchemist laughed lightly as she wrapped her arms around her lover's neck, fingers intertwined. "There goes our afternoons."

She waited before she went into Janjak's room later that day, her arms crossed as she incessantly worried her bottom lip with her canines there in the doorway, Misty on her tongue in the best of ways. Janjak stared back, face illuminated by the square of light filtering through the opening, and finally she entered, taking a second to open his curtains before crossing to his bed and sitting by his side, the palm of her hand passing over his forehead.

"Did you sleep at all?"

He signed back a quick no, grimacing at the question like Nan would have, and she felt a deep pain at the thought of the girl he'd never met.

Mama?

She looked up, broken from her reverie, and gave him a soft smile.

"Yeah baby?"

Mama, am I a -?

Cordelia frowned lightly, watching her son sign the last word and not understanding it, and she leaned back to cross her legs beneath her, heels forgotten on the carpet. She signed it back to him. "What's that mean?"

He spelled it out. Bastard.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked harshly. She watched him recoil, knowing he'd done something wrong, and he shrugged lightly, trying to diffuse her sudden anger.

It's just a word.

She watched him, dark eyes narrowed like his were, and took his hands in hers, tugging him to her until he leaned against her chest, raising with every stunted breath she took. "Don't you ever say that word again, do you hear me? You're not a bastard," she murmured to him. "You're a miracle. You're my miracle." He nodded, his fingers tightening in the blonde locks that fell around him, and she sighed as she closed her eyes, biting back tears. She only held him closer.

It was a question he'd asked before, that she'd asked herself so many times, one she and he had never received an answer to. Where's daddy. He often enough asked why he looked nothing like the two blondes, understanding as he grew older that Misty was not his biological parent, and Cordelia had only begun answering that everyone was born different. Their eyes, their ears,

their color.

At his age, the answer satisfied him enough and he left it alone until it came up again, but now the time between questions became shorter and shorter, and she knew that one day she wouldn't know how to answer.

The truth was still too farfetched.

He wriggled in her grip awkwardly and she let him go, wiping at unshed tears.

I'm sorry.

"Don't be, you didn't do anything wrong," she answered him. "Get dressed, alright? We'll go to the park with Misty."

He kissed her cheek with a purposeful wet sound, giggling when she did, and walked to his closet, footie pajamas becoming a little small for him.

Janjak would have beat Misty to the car if not for the blonde's unending legs, knees stronger than his little brittle bones, the two racing ahead as Cordelia fetched her keys and her purse and her umbrella, just in case as always. Meticulous as always.

But the wild blonde was winded by the time he asked for a third run around the playground, chocolate eyes wide and excited like his mother's and with her throat tight as she found it almost impossible to tell him 'no', glancing back at the Supreme over her shoulder. She pushed it away, the uncomfortable feeling deep in her chest, and giggled and cried out Uncle! until he gave in to find another soul to play with. She took the seat Cordelia had saved for her on the bench and sat too close, finding the woman's fingers with her own, the pain in between her ribs lessening, and seemingly, Cordelia's also.

The older woman played with with the rings on Misty's fingers, turning them this way and that and marveling at the green patches of skin the girl got from the cheap jewelry, pulling them off and changing the fingers they rested around. She'd bought her real silver but Misty wouldn't wear them, saving them for 'special occasions', as she put it, but the older blonde and her lover didn't have the same definition of the phrase, the words, blushing endlessly when the necromancer wore them out on simple walks with her, when she felt them pushing inside her.

"He's growing up too fast," Cordelia murmured. Misty looked up, gaze torn away from the hands against hers, and she looked into black eyes looking to the park's edges, narrowed against the New Orleans sun. The Supreme glanced at her, shrugging apologetically, and the girl sat closer, trapping the woman between the bench's armrest and her ribcage.

"I know, darlin'. But what will ya do?"

"Cry. Beg. Both, maybe," the alchemist replied. Her voice dropped a notch. "He's turning six in a month, Misty."

"We're born, we live, we die."

Cordelia let out an irritated sigh, pulling away and crossing her legs, eyes darting to find her son again. "Will he?"

"Delia-"

"I don't know if he'll live, do I? Die? What if-" The Supreme let out a raucous sigh, and she shook her head. "Papa'll come find him. No matter your views. Or mine." She turned to Misty, eyes grim. "You're a necromancer through and through, you talk of life and death and blacks and whites. Janjak is a shade of grey."

Misty nodded slowly.

"He's a shade of red and a shade of orange and green," the woman continued. She angled her head back to Janjak's running form in the distance. "He's-"

"-Freeform."

Cordelia glanced at Misty, jaw tight, and the wild blonde edged closer, taking her neck by the crook of her elbow and pulling her into her chest. If Cordelia cried freely, she would dot the necromancer's shirt with salty tears, leaving Janjak to think nothing of his mothers' embrace.

"Ya know," Misty began, tugging at silky strand of hair. "He is turnin' six, like ya said. We should prepare somethin' big. You'll feel better if ya have a project to work on."

The Supreme sniffed once, pitifully, and she winced at the noise. "You think?"

"I know so," the girl assured her. She pressed a kiss to a warm temple, hot with sweat and stress. "It's all fine, Cordelia, all perfectly fine. He's fine and you're fine." The woman was trembling in her arms, breathing hoarse yet shallow, and she nodded with some difficulty into the crook of the necromancer's neck. "You're his mama, he ain't goin' nowhere."

"Can you promise me that?" Cordelia asked. "Can you?" she repeated, her grip tightening around Misty's arm.

OOOoooOOO

She'd been passing her hands through Janjak's box braid locs for over an hour now, black eyes veered on her son rather than the television playing a cartoon feet away from them, his breathing steadily burrowing into sleep as he fought to stay awake to watch with her.

It was well past midnight, the new moon high in the sky and the academy's lawn pitch black, Misty up in their bedroom to leave Cordelia and her boy alone during their first hours of his birthday, the wee hours of the morning. She'd watched the first movie with them, Beauty and the Beast, but had headed up after it, pressing a kiss to both their foreheads in the process. Cordelia had put on another cartoon and watched the cassette timer tick away, not paying attention to the characters on screen but laughing when Janjak did, enjoying the way his spine arched into her chest.

She'd hugged him closer as midnight had approached, but by then he'd fallen asleep and she hadn't had the heart to wake him to tell him 'happy birthday'. She'd kissed him instead on the cheek, then again, and had shifted so that she could cradle his body in her arms, the boy buried into her neck, little fists tight around the fabric of her shirt. It reminded her of when he had been younger, when he'd been too fragile to do anything but fall asleep in her arms or Misty's.

She watched the cartoon by herself, hand against his little chest and counting the heartbeats between his ribs, her own fingertips cold and his limbs frigid, and she knew she'd felt that feeling before, knew he was feeling it for the first time, and she could do nothing but sleep by his side now. The Supreme closed her eyes when the end credits began to play, and she began to dream a black dream.

It was Janjak who woke her, his frantic shaking of her arm lifting her out of sleep, and she looked down into his worried chocolate eyes with her own. He was standing by the couch, shirt rippled around his body and pajama legs uneven. He signed quickly, words blurring into each other as his gaze began to water out of sheer fear.

Mama, where are we?

She looked up, bleary eyed and lost and finally, slowly, she recognized that they weren't in the manor's living room anymore but somewhere she'd been too many times as a child, no matter the times she'd ran away only to be brought back, fingers tight around her reddening ear. She tugged her son closer, hugging him as he began to tremble. As she began to tremble too.

"My house," she replied softly. "When I was a child. Your grandmother's house." She squeezed his fingers in between hers, feeling her heartbeat echo his.

Why did you bring me here? I don't know her. I never knew her. He began to get upset again, and she knew he was thinking it was unfair of her, on his birthday, to wake in such a place, but she began to shake her head and he paused long enough to wait for an answer.

"It's-" she took a deep breath, unsure, and took his hands in hers, "Do you remember I told you that there were beings more powerful than I?" He nodded but he didn't believe her, not the Supreme, his mother. "Some beings can move objects, people, to different realms. This isn't our realm, baby."

Another planet?

She gave him a watery smile. "Something like that. Are you alright?"

I'm not hurt.

"You know what I mean," she said softly. She stood and he grasped at her hand, begging to be picked up, and she did what he asked easily, his frail body fitting against her. "Let's go explore, okay? It's like a game."

He shrugged, unconvinced, but his young mind took to the idea and he began to look around, tears drying on his dark cheeks. For her part, she held on tight and she stared straight ahead, knowing that this hell would loop if she wasn't careful.

The house was as impersonal as it'd been when she'd lived in it, but somehow her thoughts and memories had managed to make it even deader than it'd been then. There was no bouquet in the vase in the foyer like her mother had always insisted on having there, only dead petals gracing the floor. The portraits would have stared back if their eyes hadn't been cut out.

She wondered if Fiona Goode roamed the hallways, and she held Janjak tighter as she shivered, imagining she could hear the former Supreme's heels clicking on the marble tiles. She glanced back over her shoulder, catching shadows, but they didn't take form.

She took the stairs to the second floor, her free hand holding onto the bannister and her fingers running along the inside of it, the movement much too familiar to her. She ripped her hand away and left it on Janjak's back as he looked over her shoulder. He twisted in her arms to gaze over where she was headed and he finally asked to be put down. He ran ahead and she wanted to call after him but he kept in her sights, as if he'd heard her musings.

He turned, beginning to sign, but his hands fell limp to his sides when his back smacked into something. He turned abruptly, head tilting back until he could look into the man's red eyes, the cajun demon six feet tall. He began to let out a whimper, tears springing to his eyes at the skulls and the dead animals hanging off of the man's belt, at the sharp teeth that showed when he grinned, and he let Cordelia pick him up when she did, burrowing into her neck and peeking out from between blonde strands of hair when he was safe in her arms.

The Supreme gazed at Papa Legba defiantly, her fear for her child overtaking the fear she had for herself, and she shifted her weight to stand taller, still so much shorter than he.

"Cordelia," the demon purred. "My Supreme."

Janjak pulled away momentarily to sign, big brown eyes opened wide.

He motioned with one hand, spelled out words, as he hung onto Cordelia with his other. Mama, mama who is that why does he know you mama he's scary-

"Janjak," the woman breathed. She shifted her son from one hip to the other, the child forced to gaze into Legba's eyes. "Meet your father."

Papa's grin grew wide. "Child."

The boy's lower lip trembled as he raked his eyes over the man who had gotten his attention. His grip tightened on his mother, her neck turning red with the force he exerted on her, and he shook his head, fighting back tears.

"Not what you expected?" the man mused. "Fathers rarely are." His red eyes looked to the Supreme. "He's old enough now."

Old enough? For what?

The woman stuck her chin out. "I don't believe you. I won't believe you," she tried. "He's just a baby, just an infant-"

"Six years old today, Janjak?"

The answer was long to come. Yes.

Legba tsked. "Hardly an infant, Cordelia." He narrowed his eyes. "He doesn't speak."

"No, he," the blonde glanced down at her son. "He doesn't speak."

"A disease? An issue?"

"A personal choice, I think," Cordelia murmured. She passed a hand through Janjak's hair and she looked up, jaw tight. "He's perfect."

"No doubt," Legba replied. "You know why you're here, Supreme. I told you I would see you again. He's old enough now to shift between worlds."

"He's not," Cordelia hissed back.

The demon ignored her. "He's mine." He held his hands out and despite her racing thoughts and her demanding heartbeat, she gave over Janjak, the child wriggling in his father's grip, but Legba's arms were tight around his waist and he finally settled down, eyes veered on his mother. "A strong boy. A healthy boy. Why won't you speak, hmm?" he asked softly. "Has your charge already gotten to your heart and silenced you?"

"Charge?"

Legba looked up. "He has a destiny to fulfill, Cordelia. I cannot rule Hell by myself. Not these many hells. Some fight more than others." He bounced Janjak on his hip. "Perhaps he'll meet his grandmother? Would you like to?"

I wanna stay with mommy.

"Do you?" Legba wondered. "You think it's your choice?"

Mama said that everything is my choice, Janjak signed dutifully. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. He glanced at Cordelia. Except for chores. His mother gave him a quick smile despite herself. He looked back to Legba and began to wriggle, moving until the demon could do nothing but put him back on the ground. You might be my father, but you're not my dad. I love my mom and my mama and I want to go home. Back to my planet.

The man was amused. "You stomp your foot at me? What a way to raise a child, Supreme."

"He was taught to not trust strangers," Cordelia growled back.

"I am a stranger, then," Legba said softly He bent down to be level with the boy. "I will come for you, Janjak Goode. You will do what you were born to do." The boy stuck his chin out, looking so much like Misty and Cordelia together, but didn't have anything to say. To that the demon laughed, and he stood again. "Your mother won't always be able to protect you, her and her powers."

I'll protect myself.

"His soul doesn't belong to you unless he gives it freely," Cordelia reminded the man softly. "No matter my own power. If he won't allow it, you won't have him. Isn't that a cardinal rule?"

Papa smiled but he looked less sure than before, his eyes glancing between the two. "Would you not do as I ask of you? You would be limitless, child."

Janjak shifted awkwardly.

"Limitless, Janjak," the demon started again. "Free to give or take life, free to stop time, start it, warp it until one goes crazy. My power and your mother's, together." He stood to his full height. "You are a god, boy."

I just wanna be a kid.

Cordelia shook her head. "He doesn't want any of you, Papa."

Legba gazed her over, an angry spark in his eyes. His voice was threatening, dark. "Remember, Supreme, at the end of the day, you belong here."

"I know."

"You will come back."

"I will," she said. "But not him."

"Then I'll have one of you." He threw his hand out. "Go home. You'll hear of me." He pointed at the boy. "Your soul will hear of me. Every day of your birth I will come to you,and when you die you will have to do what you were made to do. Destinies are not changed."

Janjak sneered lightly, mirroring his father's own signature smirk, and dragged Cordelia with him back down the stairs, back to the couch they'd woken up on, and he sat the Supreme next to him before burrowing into her. He willed her to sleep with him and she held him tight, ignoring the pair of eyes watching from the corner and instead speaking to him in a low voice, little apologies and testaments of love.

She woke before him, heart hammering as she twisted on the couch to find her son, but he was sleeping peacefully against her with his eyebrows raised. She breathed out and bent down to press her lips to his forehead as the grandfather clock struck nine, as a necromancer let out a loud curse from the kitchen.

They were inside Robichaux's, far from her mother's house that, years earlier, she'd sold to the state as a historic monument. That she'd seen emptied and refurbished completely, the porch changed back to its original architecture and her greenhouse torn down, added to the plans a hundred years after the manor's construction.

She raised and took the time to drape a blanket over Janjak, finding it hard to leave him there but she didn't have the heart to wake him, not with what he'd endured. Though he seemed to be taking it better than her, even now as he dreamed no dreams.

Whatever Papa had threatened her with, no matter that he'd made the child for the sole purpose of using him, for now he'd let the idea go. She figured Janjak wouldn't let himself get turned over so quickly. And if he did, it'd be his own choice.

And once she died, he could do whatever he wanted.

She looked up, a fist on her skirt and tugging, and black eyes watched her with a little frown. Janjak smiled. I'm not leaving. Okay? I'm staying here with you. Cordelia nodded breathlessly and her son nodded back to seal the deal before turning on the couch to fall asleep again, little heart exhausted.

She half-ran to the kitchen, skidding across the momentary linoleum floor an ancient Supreme had had put in in the 70s, re-wooded partially by Myrtle, and came to a stop to watch her wild blonde of a lover humming, previous anger seemingly forgotten though her thumb was in a band-aid.

Misty turned, a large smile on her face as she raised her arms slightly to show off the birthday cake she'd finished for Janjak's sixth year, but her grin began to fade as she watched Cordelia shake as she stood at the kitchen's door.

"Delia, are ya okay?" she murmured, crossing to meet her lover, leaving the pastry on the counter. "Darlin', what is it?"

The Supreme shook her head, tears free flowing as she held onto the necromancer's fingers, hands intertwined between them. "Nothing's wrong, Misty," she said. The girl nodded, confused. "Everything's perfectly fine."

OOOoooOOO

He'd turned into a handsome young man, one his mothers were so proud of, but now he didn't feel so proud, not as he watched his Supreme dying on her bed, the necromancer at her side and holding her as carefully as she could.

He knew his father watched too. He glanced over his shoulder and though no one was there, the pair of red eyes was constant in his mind, the whispers loud in his ear. He'd gone before, to Hell. He hadn't told Cordelia, he hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he'd gone. He'd made a deal. He'd worked during the nights for his father the god, and worked during the day for his mother the witch, Cordelia constantly amused and confused that he was ever so tired though he slept through the night. Misty laughed along, but she knew better.

Of course it was a front. The wild blonde knew he died every time the moon rose, it was too obvious for her. Maybe his mother knew too, she'd been there more than once, she knew the signs. Maybe she was in denial.

She couldn't be in much more now, sick as she was.

He'd let his charge go for a few nights now, dutifully staying at her bedside as she gave in to stage three cancer, body racked with pain and electrical shocks that left her crying for death. The new Supreme sat on the staircase, sobbing too as she finally realized what the older blonde had meant by 'a burden of a task'.

But he'd made a deal. A thousand years of his immortal soul at every beck and call for a little slice of heaven in an otherwise black pit of despair. Paradise for his mother though she was First Witch. His father had smirked at the gesture but hadn't dared say no.

And when Misty, too, passed, she would be allowed to join Cordelia in the afterlife.

He never wanted to see his mother, either one, cry again.

He came to sit by the bed and took Cordelia's free hand in his own two, the other intertwined and taken by Misty's faltering grasp, and he dropped his forehead to hers. A pair of blue-green eyes and a pair of red gazed him over. The dying Supreme took a deep breath, air rattling in her lungs, and she held on tight to her son, her miracle.

"It's alright, mother, let go," he soothed. "Everything's taken care of."