A/N: This is the final chapter of Following the River Styx. However, it is not the final chapter of me in the AHS fandom! I am already working on a multi-chapter fic for season two regarding Lana and Sister Mary Eunice. After that, I have several ideas for Foxxay which could be multi-chapter or one shot—we'll see when we get that far.

Thanks for reading this story, and if you've enjoyed reading, please review!

...

"Dee," Misty whined from the passenger seat of the car. "Can't I take off the blindfold? I'm starting to feel carsick." Low tones of Fleetwood Mac hummed from the car's CD player as Cordelia followed a long, winding road through swamp and forest. "It can't be that great of a surprise. It's our eight week anniversary. It's not like it's a huge number."

Cordelia gazed out over the windshield, slowing as she entered Pleasure Bend and turned off of the main road. "We're almost there," she promised. "Hold tight. It has to be a surprise." Nervousness quelled in the pit of her gut. She had required the blindfold for more reasons than the benevolent factor of surprising Misty; she feared that Misty would react poorly upon being returned here. This place held a slew of memories for the other witch that Cordelia could never possibly comprehend. But Cordelia had also made a promise—to return Misty safely to her siblings and her grandmother—and she intended to see it through. If that meant sleeping on the couch for awhile, she was willing to accept the consequences.

"You're slowing down. Can I take it off now?" She reached to untie the knot. "I'm taking it off. I feel nauseated." She plucked off the bandana that Cordelia had tied around her eyes and dropped it in her lap just as the Supreme began to form a protest. Drawn to the scenery on the left, only a moment passed before Misty's voice dropped into a whisper. "No—No, you can't take me here! Cordelia!" The car pulled to the side of the road in front of the small house with the gravel driveway. "No—please don't leave me here—"

"I'm not leaving you anywhere," Cordelia assured. She reached for Misty's trembling hand. "They deserve to know you're okay. If you don't want to stay, then we can go straight back home." She kissed her on the cheek. "Come on. Look, your sister is already at the door."

As she spoke, Misty lifted her gaze to the torn screen door where Mary stood, face glowing. Reluctant and longing, hopeful and dreading at the same time, Misty opened the car door and stepped out into the street. Cordelia followed her. Before Misty's feet even touched the grass, Mary burst from the house with the dog, Gizmo, dashing ahead of her. "Gizmo!" Misty cried. The elderly labrador ran like a joyous puppy and pounced onto her master with her tongue flapping in the air and tail whipping dandelions off of their stems in the overgrown grass.

The sunlight filtered down upon the green yard and danced through Misty's platinum hair, and as she leaned forward to kiss the dog on the nose, to embrace the fat swipes of the pink tongue, Cordelia remembered the image that she had received the last time she was here, the picture that had led her to Misty in the depths of hell. The pure spirit exhaled from her in an ethereal glow. Drinking in the sight, Cordelia inhaled deeply, the sweet mingled scent of wildflowers and manure from a nearby field.

Mary dove into an embrace. "Mary! You've gotten so tall!" Misty swept her up into her arms and spun her around. "And you taught yourself how to braid! I'm so proud of you!"

"I heard you coming. I heard you all the way down the road. Jeremy didn't believe me, but I knew it was your voice!" Fat tears rolled down Mary's cheeks. "Why were you gone so long? What did those people do to you? Why didn't you ever come back?" She shook her head. "We looked for you—we spent days searching—we couldn't find you anywhere! Ma and Pa didn't care, and they wouldn't let us see Gran anymore, and nobody wanted to help us find you, and—" She broke off in a series of sniffles. "And I thought I would never see you again."

Misty dabbed the tears off of Mary's cheeks with her thumbs. "Don't be silly," she whispered. "I had to do some soul searching. I had to find my people. It just took me long enough to realize I had left behind part of my tribe, you and Jeremy and Gran—"

"Don't lie to me." Mary lifted her eyes, narrow and accusatory. "That doesn't work anymore. Ma and Pa do it all the time. They lie about what they did to you. I can see it in their heads. Ma thinks about it every night before she goes to sleep." She gulped. "You didn't want to come back. You were afraid they would get you again." A watery smile crossed her lips. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't have come back, either. I would've run as far away from here as I could and never looked back."

Amazement crossed Misty's face like a dawn sun. "Mary, I've been so many places. I've got a friend who is just like you, she reads minds, she tells everyone's secrets just for kicks. I've met all these women with amazing powers and strengths, you could never imagine all of them." She looked back over her shoulder to Cordelia, a gentle smile on her lips. "I've got the most amazing girlfriend who was smart enough to blindfold me on the way here so I didn't jump out of the car, and I've found the place I really belong. A real family."

"Mary!" Jeremy shouted from within. "Where the hell did you go?" He appeared at the door, eyes surveying the scene, and at the sight of all of them, he left the house with long strides, skeptical hope upon his face. "Misty? You—You—" He blinked a few times, shaking his head, expecting her to disappear like a mirage in the desert. Then he charged at her with the same ferocity of the dog and spun his arms around her body into a deep hug. "I can't believe that you're home." He buried his face into the thick curls of her hair and clung to her so closely that Cordelia had a slight jealous tingling within her; as soon as the notion crossed her mind, she shoved it away, but Mary still fixed her under a curious look. Biting her lip, her cheeks flushed with shame.

The witch grinned. "I couldn't stay away from pestering you forever, could I?" She pinched his cheek, and he retreated with a bashful look upon his face. "I'm glad you're both okay." She beckoned Cordelia with an open arm, and the Supreme accepted the invitation, drawing nearer to the reunion. She didn't want to intrude upon them. "This is Cordelia."

"We met her," Mary said with a smile. "She came and looked inside and took a picture that we had. She was looking for you." A giggle followed, and she elbowed Jeremy to draw his attention. The boy kept gazing over their shoulders down the street. "I didn't know you were a couple, though. Jeremy, stop looking over that way."

The teen muttered, "Pa's on his way home," as he dropped his gaze from the road. "He was taking some boys from church gator hunting. He just called to tell us that he's got ten minutes left. Gonna pick up Ma from church and come home." Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Jeremy looked back up to the two women. "Y'all really shouldn't be here, neither of you. Pa had you killed once, and he'll do it again, and—and really, it's been hard enough keep Mary's whole mind-reading issue under wraps. You showin' up now, it ain't good for nobody."

Misty's expression darkened. "They won't lay a hand on any of us. I know more now. I'm stronger. And if they threaten you, you'll come with us. This place isn't safe for either of you." She looked over her shoulder at Cordelia for support; the Supreme nodded aptly. "We can take you back with us. I'll fight for you in court if I have to. They know about us now, the witches. They'll know that you're in danger as long as you're with Ma and Pa." Examining their frightened faces, shadowed by mistrust and a leaching dream of freedom, she continued, "It's a wonderful place. There's so much magic that happens there. You'll both love it."

"I want to go with you." Mary's eyes shimmered. "I want to be with others like me." She grasped Jeremy's hand and looked up at him, meeting his skeptical gaze. He had a worn face too old and too cynical to fit anyone of his age. "I can see it, Jeremy, in their heads. I know you're not magical, but there's a place for you there."

His lips pressed into a thin smile. "I—I don't know. This is all we've ever known." He ducked his head. "I guess I'll go wherever you want me to go. It's gotta be better than here, anyway." Mary cheered and hugged him tightly. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, abashed, "just don't tell anyone that I like you, okay?"

She winked, poking his chest. "Your secret is safe with me."

The gunning of a truck engine roared around the corner, and all four people turned, Misty shuffling to stand beside Cordelia. Their hands brushed, fingers interlocking, as an old red Ford rolled up the carport and parked. Misty's breath caught in her throat. "It's alright," Cordelia assuaged. "They can't hurt you."

"I know." Still, her voice was a thin croak, as she found air hard to come by. "Stay with me," she begged Cordelia in a whisper.

"You know I wouldn't dream of leaving."

Paul climbed out of the driver's side with a hunting rifle under his arm. "Stay in the truck, Teresa." He spat some snuff into the grass. "I'll take care of this." Cordelia's stomach twisted at the resemblance between them—the bright blonde hair, the blue eyes reminiscent of Robert Redford. He had a swing to his step, a leisure, and he used his rifle as a walking stick, but nothing could have disguised the rage, the loathing, upon his ruddy face where veins bulged at his temples and neck. His teeth were reduced to brown and yellow nubs. The skin upon his fingers had the same yellowed, tarred tinge from too many cigarettes. "Well, won't you look what the cat dragged in." Plunging the butt of his gun into the ground, he thrust his chin up. "The devil ain't got the grace to drop you on another sucker's doorstep, does he?"

"The devil couldn't keep me," Misty reported, lifting her head. Her lips and fingers trembled; Cordelia squeezed her hand to steady her. She had to fight to stifle the visions that poured out of Misty's skin, the memories that Cordelia could not afford to view with any attention to detail. "I hogtied him just like you taught me, Daddy, and then I ran for the hills."

He growled, "Don't call me that. You aren't part of this family. You're a curse—you always have been." He lifted up his gun, not pointing it yet as he seized up the two women and his children behind them. "Jeremy, take Mary inside. I've got to finish what I started." The teen hesitated, lifting a hand onto his younger sister's shoulder. "Jeremy! Listen to me!"

Jeremy set his jaw. "I can't, Pa. Misty's taking us away from here." He swallowed hard, trying to keep from shivering as he emerged like a turtle from its shell, freeing himself from the oppressive hand of his father. "Mary's like her. She's been reading minds, having intuitions, for years. Now it's getting stronger. She can tell you what's going through your head better than you can. She deserves to be with people like her, people who can help her learn about it."

Paul glowered at Misty. The fearsome look made her shrink, and Cordelia pressed one hand to the small of her back, eyes dancing from Paul to Misty's bleach-white face and back again. "That's why you came back. To take away my children. Pervert them in your own sick ways." He scowled. "You are a disgrace to this family, to this earth, to mankind. I am disgusted that I gave life to you." As he leveled his gun at her, he said, "Jeremy, take Mary in the house."

The dog growled where she sat in front of her owner, hackles rising. "No," Jeremy clipped. Softer, pleading, he said, "Pa, put down the gun. We can leave without this. We just want to get away. Please, put down the gun."

"You're either with me or you're against me, Jeremy. You never want to be against the guy with the gun. You're not an idiot, boy. Take your sister inside and close the door. This is going to be messy." Jeremy put an arm over Mary's shoulders, but neither of them relented, standing in a cluster with the two adult witches.

"You can't kill me," Misty reminded him, but her voice shook like a feather in the wind. With all of her conviction, fear caused tears to burble in her eyes. "It didn't work the first time. You kill me, and I'll just come back, and if you kill her, I'll bring her back, and if you kill Jeremy and Mary and Gran, I'll bring them back, too. We're untouchable."

Slowly, he moved the sight of the gun to point at Cordelia. "Is this some demon spawn that you've brought back with you, then? Another monster like you to join your cult?" He cocked the gun.

Misty shifted as if to push Cordelia out of the way. "Cordelia is my girlfriend," she answered. The shaking note leveled slightly in her voice, but her scowl deepened. "She's a witch like me—the Supreme witch. There's nothing you can do to hurt us while she's here." Yet as she said those words, she shielded Cordelia with her own body, prepared to take a bullet if that was required of her. "Put it down, Daddy. Let us leave. Nobody has to get hurt."

He huffed. "I raised a faggot magician."

"Don't call her that," Cordelia advised. Her brown eyes smoldered with hate; she had heard enough for a lifetime from this man, and his wife's silence told her everything she needed to know. "It is not Misty's fault that her parents are too ignorant to accept her as she is—a witch." Her lip curled. "Jeremy, Mary, get in the car."

"Don't you tell my children what to do!"

As Paul's hand seized the trigger of the rifle, Misty flung it upward with telekinesis. It fired into the air. She narrowed her eyes at him, grappling with his consciousness under her mind control, and like a puppet beneath her expert hands, he turned the gun and stuffed it into his mouth. "I can make you pull the trigger," she accused. "I can make you blow your brains out in front of everyone. I can make you taste the acrid steel." Her hands quaked with power. "It still wouldn't hurt as badly as it did when you and the sheriff doused me with gasoline and lit me on fire. It still wouldn't scare you as badly as I was scared."

He mumbled against the gagging metal within his mouth, but he couldn't remove it, his hands no longer under his own control. Cordelia pressed a hand to the inside of Misty's elbow, advising her without words. At the gentle touch, she let the rifle fall from his hands. The metal twisted under her influence to form a crooked kink in the barrel. "We are going to take Jeremy and Mary away from here. If you fight us, we'll come back with our whole coven. We will fight you until you're reduced to dust." She balled her hands into fists. "You have threatened my family for too long. They deserve better than you, both of them."

"You won't get away with this," he panted, but his expression had twisted into one of uncertainty, of fear. "We—We'll take you to court. They're our kids. You have no right to them! The court will never side with freaks like you!" Large blotchy red marks dashed down his cheeks; he had pit stains growing ever more prominent in his shirt, and sweat ran down his dented temples in hot ringlets.

Misty sneered. "Take me to court. I would love to explain to a judge how you had me burned at the stake—how you posed a significant threat to do the same to my sister. I would love to see your name on every headline in New Orleans, the man who burned his daughter for the magic that he passed on to her." Paul trembled, silent, watchful. His lips sputtered for something else to add, but he could think of nothing. "We're going home now," she said. "Don't try to follow us."

Jeremy and Mary climbed into the backseat, the dog clambering in after them after a waved invitation from Misty. Jeremy stared at the floorboards of the car; Mary wore a pensive look as she looked from Misty to Cordelia. "You wanted to do it." Her monotone cut through the silence. "You wanted to make him kill himself."

Clenching her jaw, Misty glared out the window. "It would have felt real good." Cordelia shifted the gears and drove away with a single glance back at Paul, standing in the front yard with his destroyed gun laying upon the grass beside him. Teresa started out of the truck to approach him. Misty pulled her face away. "Was that all your plan?" she pressed Cordelia in a delicate voice.

"No. But it's probably better this way."

"Happy anniversary."

She snorted, shaking her head. "Happy anniversary." The motor hummed as they turned onto the highway once again, and the CD skipped into activity; it bumped over every crack in the road until Misty turned it off. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

Jeremy and Mary exchanged a glance, the dog slopped across their laps with a lolling tongue. She alone felt that the situation was positive, and her tail thumped against Jeremy's thighs at intervals. "Jeremy would like fried chicken," Mary purred after a moment. "He doesn't want to say so because he knows Misty won't eat it, being vegan and all."

"Thanks, Mary," he muttered sarcastically. "I'll eat anything. Mary can pick." He scratched Gizmo's rump, and she slobbered a puddle into Mary's lap in response.

"Fried chicken sounds nice. Gizmo would like it, too." Jeremy gawped at her, awestruck by the apparent revelation of the dog's wants and requests. "No—I didn't read her mind. She's a dog. Dogs like chicken. Don't be silly."

Misty laughed. The heaviness in her chest dissipated ever so slightly at the banter of her siblings in the backseat. "I think Gizmo would prefer meatloaf," she joked, "if she's the one ordering dinner."

"She had to learn to love it," Jeremy provided. "An acquired taste."

To assuage Cordelia's confusion, Mary answered, "Ma's meatloaf used to make us all feel sick, so we would sneak it all to Gizmo while Ma wasn't looking and tell her how good it was."

"It worked great until Pa caught Mary scraping hers off of her plate and beat all our asses over wasting perfectly good food on a dog," Jeremy retorted. "He always took his with Pepto-Bismol and beer to drown out all the nasty. Honestly, he could have been a little more sympathetic."

"Yeah," Misty teased, "thanks, Mary. I couldn't sit down for days." Cordelia flexed her jaw at the casual mentions of corporal punishment, something they laughed about like a pleasant memory. Perhaps, to them, it was the closest thing that they had to an enjoyable family gathering. She held the steering wheel a little tighter in her hands.

"I was five," Mary defended. "And I never thought the meatloaf was all that bad. I was just copying the both of you. Ma's cooking never bothered me like it did you two."

Jeremy snorted. "The meatloaf was disgusting. You're misremembering because it was such a long time ago. It made Misty vegan, for god's sake!" He made a gagging face, and it earned a tail wag and a big kiss from Gizmo, who found his twisted expression delightful.

"A lot more than that made me vegan, honey. But the meatloaf was a contributing factor."

In a slightly dimmer voice, Mary said, "Misty hasn't told you the story of how she accidentally brought back the Thanksgiving turkey one year, has she, Miss Cordelia?" Misty blanched. "That was the last time she ever ate meat. Gran called her back to teach her how to carve it, and—"

"Can you not gross everyone out with that story?"

"No, Mary, go ahead!" Jeremy encouraged. Mary, though, shook her head, intending very well to follow Misty's request. "They started screaming bloody murder and this naked bird comes running out of the kitchen with no head and its guts and blood and shit spilling out everywhere." Misty's pallor shifted from white to a pale green shade, and she deliberately turned to stare out the window. "It was so gross. Pa was furious. Best Thanksgiving ever."

"I remember that day because it was how I learned the F-word," Mary said. "Everyone was saying it. Ma and Pa and Gran and Misty, too. They didn't even give her a whooping for it."

Pity filled Cordelia's chest as she eyed Misty, distressed and embarrassed by her siblings' tales, and she took one of her girlfriend's hands to give it a gentle squeeze. Misty inclined her eyebrows to the Supreme, but she brightened a little and interlocked her fingers with Cordelia's. "There you have it. I stopped eating meat because I was afraid it would come back to life in my mouth. It was traumatizing."

Jeremy grinned. "I thought it was awesome, personally."

"Seconded," Mary agreed.

The conversation lolled on for the hour that they spent commuting; Cordelia learned things about them that she hadn't anticipated having dumped upon her. She embraced those things and the visions that accompanied each touch that Misty placed delicately upon her skin, each memory reflected in conversation. She bought them a bucket of chicken and Misty a serving of mashed potatoes before she headed back to the school

As they pulled up in front of Miss Robichaux's, Jeremy only ogled while Mary hummed, "Whoa. It's huge." She turned around. "Is Gizmo allowed inside?"

"Of course." The kids clambered out of the car, each with eyes placed unmoving upon the large building, as if expecting it to disappear before their eyes. "Kyle will show you each to a vacant room, and we'll piece together some things for you to wear until we're able to go shopping this weekend." Cordelia walked around the car and stood beside Misty.

The butler hovered at the front door, and Jeremy approached without guide, Mary right by his side. They entered with the dog, but Misty and Cordelia lingered outside. Misty's voice interrupted the humming of the dusk crickets. "Thank you." Cordelia turned to her, startled by the gratitude on her face. "I wouldn't have asked this of you."

"I know." Cordelia reached to grasp her hand. "They deserved better. We can keep them safe here." She pecked a place on Misty's cheek; the flush of pink that appeared there stirred affection within her. "I love you."

Misty pecked her back on the tip of the nose. "I love you more."

"Don't start with me, witch," Cordelia dared, smile widening as she leaned nearer, kissing her lips once. "I will win. Believe me. I always win."

"I know." Misty placed an arm around her waist. "That doesn't keep me from trying, does it?" She tugged ahead, so Cordelia followed her through the humid evening air. The teasing quiver dropped from her voice to a more serious note. "Is this really what you want?"

Cordelia nodded. She ran her thumb over Misty's knuckles in reassurance. "I want your family to be my family," she promised. "You deserve it. They deserve it. I deserve it—I lived under Fiona too long to keep from indulging myself."

Misty stopped on the front porch and kissed her again. "Thank you," she repeated, and the familiar glow of admiration shimmered from her face, written like constellations in starlight as she regarded Cordelia. "You're awful purty-looking, Delia."

"You tell me so every day."

"I mean it every day."

"You're the most beautiful woman I've encountered." Misty bit her lip as Cordelia studied the tip of her nose, a sudden frown perplexing her expression. "But you do have a spot of dirt on your nose. Hold still." She licked her thumb and dabbed it off.

As they entered the house, their laughter echoed through the hallways, and for the first time in her life, Cordelia knew that she felt truly happy.

…

Two Years Later

"Cordelia, would you slow down? You're going to get us killed!" Misty clutched onto the handle of the passenger side door and glared as the Supreme witch changed lanes with quick swipes of her blinker, much to the frustration of the other drivers, who honked at them.

"We're late to our own anniversary party." Cordelia's sweaty palms kept slipping off of the steering wheel, and she jittered in her seat, driven by the low tones and steady beat a Fleetwood Mac song. "You see how I find that a little stressful."

Misty chuckled, but it was weak as she bounced along with another lane change. Cordelia boarded an exit and whirled through into the city. "It will be more stressful if we're in a serious car accident on the way to our first anniversary party. We'll be talking about it for the rest of our lives. Imagine me at sixty-five, saying, 'Hey, Cordelia, remember that time you were so anxious to get us to our anniversary party that you totaled the car? That was a great time.'" She winced as another truck blared from an intersection somewhere behind them at another driver. "Jesus, what an asshole."

Cordelia coasted through a stop sign and thumped down a back road. "It sounds great, actually. What else will we talk about when we've been together for so long?" A smirk creased onto the side of her face, and she slowed to suit Misty's preferences. "There. Happy? We're safely going five miles above the speed limit like normal drivers."

"I wish you would let me drive."

"You can't drive."

"Says who?"

"For starters, the BMV and the state of Louisiana." Misty rolled her eyes. "And as someone who has ridden in a car with you, I can safely say that as long as I hope to avoid death, I will never again be your passenger."

"That's a little harsh." Misty pouted, crossing her arms and leaning back as she watched the dingy houses roll by. Many of them had thick coats of green growing up along their sides. "Why did you pick a place all the way out here? It's kinda dingy."

"It's private. I didn't want us to get any more attention than we're already bound to garner." Cordelia glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, doubting herself and her choices for a moment. "You didn't give me much feedback. I thought it was better if we didn't have to talk to CNN and Fox News over our cake. I know you don't like the spotlight."

Laughing, Misty patted Cordelia's thigh. "I lived in the swamp without running water or electricity for months. I think I can live with a park that might have a couple junkies roaming around the perimeter. It just doesn't seem like the sort of place that would appeal to you."

"The only place that appeals to me is between your legs." Misty's mouth dropped open and heat rushed to her cheeks and the tips of her ears as she retreated, astonished by the vulgar turn the conversation had taken. "I'm sorry," Cordelia said, but with her mischievous smirk, she hardly looked apologetic. "It was an opportunity that I had to take. You don't look shocked often enough anymore."

Misty shook her head and shivered once. "You'll have to follow through tonight. You can't say that kind of thing and then go back on it."

"I have no intention of going back on it. We would be a pretty lousy wives if we didn't fuck on our first anniversary." Cordelia turned into a bumpy parking lot where several other cars were already collected. Familiar faces roamed around the picnic grove, Zoe and Queenie straightening out food, Nan and Mary chasing each other away, Kyle rounding up some of the younger witches, Jeremy a distance away talking on his cellphone. Cordelia kissed Misty once. "C'mon, let's go get some food."

As they approached the party, Jeremy noticed them first and ran to them, pointing to the phone. "Gran's lost, and I don't know how to tell her to get here—yeah, Gran, I'm giving you to Cordelia. She's got the shared coven brain cell today. Yes, I love you, too. Here, please help her, she's driving me insane." Jeremy's hair had turned into a frenzied fuzz, and his eyes were bloodshot; Cordelia wondered how long Rosemary had had him on the phone.

Cordelia inclined her eyebrows and took his phone. "Hello?"

"Excellent! My only intelligent grandchild. Unfortunate I didn't actually make you myself. Now, I'm on this cobblestone road—there's a barbershop on one side—passing by that—a pet store? Grooming salon type deal. Honestly, Jeremy is such a smart boy, but his sense of direction is miserable. How do I get to the party?"

Misty ran off with Jeremy to help Kyle in keeping track of all the girls, and within twenty minutes, Cordelia had managed to guide Rosemary to the park with several coordinated searches on Google Maps. The elderly woman parked somewhat crookedly and bumped over a curb, and she climbed out of her car clumsily. "Oh, sorry, dear. I'm afraid my eyesight isn't what it used to be." Her embrace was warm and soft, and her perfume reminded Cordelia of Myrtle's fragrance so strongly that her eyes misted over from it—it was the smell that wreathed around the Supreme and made her feel small again, safely enveloped in love. "But I told the doctor that the day I stop driving will be the day I stop living. Anyway, happy anniversary, sweetheart." Rosemary kissed her on the cheek, leaving behind a smear of red lipstick.

"Thank you—" Cordelia hesitated for a moment before her tongue formed the unnatural word that followed. "Gran." She smiled.

"That's the spirit, sweetie. Who's got the cake?" Rosemary called as she approached the party. "I've got seventy-eight years under my belt, so I am not wasting any time with appetizers."

"Gran!" Misty perked up at the sight of her, grin erupting across her face. "You get all the cake you want," she promised, "and we won't interrupt your Golden Girls reruns for a moment."

The old woman patted her head. "No worries, Misty. I'm recording Matlock as we speak." She smoothed Misty's hair back out of her eyes. "You just get purtier every time I see you, I swear it. And I never thought you could be purtier than when I saw you in that wedding dress. You keep proving me wrong. I'm so proud of you." They hugged again, and low, to Misty's ear, Rosemary asked, "What is Mary doing with that mongoloid girl over there?"

"Who?" Misty followed her grandmother's look across the grove to where Mary and Nan were giggling, falling silent, and then laughing some more. "Oh—That's Nan. She's Mary's best friend. They're communicating telepathically. And, er, Gran? We don't use the word mongoloid anymore." Both of the clairvoyant witches had stopped talking to look across at them, Mary's gaze smoldering in defense of her friend.

"Right, right, I knew that. That was impolite of me. Should I apologize, or will she already know it in my head?"

"She knows," Misty assured. "Just don't do it again."

Queenie perked up from the grill. "Alright, bitches, the burgers are done! And the green ones are for Misty, so don't mess with those!"

The party gathered around in a collection of singing and celebrating, people throwing food, Rosemary watching each witch's talent with interest. When Meg got nervous and set her plate on fire, Rosemary applauded. "So what can you do?" she asked Zoe, and everyone began to chuckle anxiously while Zoe turned beet red.

A final vehicle rolled into the gravel parking lot, drawing everyone up away from their plates. "But everyone's here," Misty mumbled around a mouthful of veggie burger. She choked it down on some soda. "Delia? Did you invite someone else?"

The Supreme shrugged, but she couldn't chase away the knowing grin from her lips. "Maybe." She scraped her foot over the ground as the driver hopped out of the car and approached the collection of witches and company.

"I hope I didn't miss the cake." The distinctive alto purr caused some jaws to drop; others looked from face to face in confusion. Muttered whispers arose from some of the younger witches, recognizing the voice from the records that tended to follow Misty around the house. "Sorry I'm late. My flight was delayed."

"Is that…" Rosemary whispered, and Misty bobbed her head silently, mouth agape. "Jesus H. Christ, you should've told me, I would've made myself look less like an old woman."

Cordelia stood. "We're glad you could come. Everyone, this is Miss Stevie Nicks. She's an old friend of the coven."

"I heard there would be free cake." She inclined an eyebrow and winked at Misty. "Nice to see you again. No more swooning, I hope. Happy anniversary, ladies."

"Are you someone famous?" one of the younger girls blurted.

"You could say that, yes."

Misty started cutting the cake, face turning gradually redder. Rosemary hadn't taken her eyes off of the celebrity. "Gran, please, swallow that potato chip before it dissolves in your mouth," Mary whispered from across the table, and obediently, the elderly woman swallowed it whole. "Goodness, the lot of you are embarrassing."

Stevie strode around the table and sat comfortably beside Rosemary. Misty gulped. "This is my brother, Jeremy; my sister, Mary; and my grandmother, Rosemary. She's the one who bought me my first record."

"That's a way to make a lady feel old, introducing your grandchildren to my music. Pleasure to meet you, Rosemary." She extended a hand.

Rosemary lolled backward in her seat. "Gran!" Misty shrieked, and she and Cordelia dove to catch her before she could hit her head. "Oh, goodness."

"Well, won't you look that. It runs in the family. Is she alright?"

"I think I died," Rosemary whispered, eyes gazing upward at the roof of the gazebo, not even glancing at the faces hovering above her. "I died, and God is Stevie Nicks."

Cordelia gave a burst of laughter, and she lifted her head to meet Misty's eyes, teeth worrying upon her lower lip. "She's fine," she assured. She could fall into the depths of those blue eyes—and she did fall into them, every night when she curled up beside Misty in bed and spooned the warmth of her naked body. Taking Misty's hand, she remembered; she needed no visions to view. You were worth every step into hell, she wanted to say, and I would follow you there again and again if you required it.

Those words were not meant for now, as they hovered above a fainted woman with the eyes of Stevie Nicks on their backs, but as Cordelia fanned Rosemary off with a paper plate, she filed the thoughts away for later. Any punishment they had earned in hell would be worth the present that they had now, joyous and together.