So, got a lot of votes for Coven as the next story. It will be set in 2013, before this fic. Timelines might get a bit confusing, but I'll make it as clear as possible! Pairings in the fic will be up for debate; I'll probably include whatever pairing is asked for the most. Thank you all so much for the reviews and such!

EPILOGUE

"You're leaving."

Isabel looked up from her suitcase to see Sally leaning against the wall. A cigarette was held dangerously loose in her fingers, a wisp of smoke rising up from the end of it. Sally's eyes glistened with tears as per usual. Slowly, Isabel nodded. "Yeah, I am." And it wasn't like last time where it was only for a day. She was leaving for much longer.

"You said you'd never leave me."

Those words seemed to whack Isabel in the chest, making her lose air for a moment. It was the absolute truth: she had promised Sally that she wouldn't leave. Isabel stared at her suitcase. She expected her clothes to mock her, to tell her that she was awful for breaking a promise that she made multiple times. But they did no such thing. They let her be to make her own choice.

She drew away from the suitcase, walking over to Sally. "I'm not leaving you. I'm just going away. I'm going home."

"So you are leaving me," Sally accused, not sounding at all happy. Isabel had promised! She had promised to stay with her and now she was breaking that promise! It was heartbreaking to Sally, and her tears started to fall.

Isabel reached out, and wiped away a few of Sally's tears. She didn't want her to cry, though Sally was in a constant state of sadness. This sad, depressed ghost who went through hell every day, had grown attached to her, and saved her life.

Isabel kissed Sally with the lips that touched those of James Patrick March. Perhaps a stupid idea, for she wanted to get away to this place, and this might draw Sally closer to her.

"Think of it more as taking a leave of absence," said Isabel quietly, pulling away from Sally. Maybe she would come back to this place. But if she did, it most certainly would not be for a long, long while. "I need to finish packing." Isabel turned her back to Sally, who remained a few moments longer before vanishing.

The peace didn't last forever. As Isabel zipped up her suitcase, she felt hands on her shoulders. She did not whirl around in surprise, recognizing the touch. "Must you go so soon, my dear?" James asked. "And here I thought we were going to have some fun. That was quite a show you put on with John."

James was immensely proud of Isabel. John had been his apprentice, carrying out the rest of the commandment killings that he had been unable to finish. Except for the last one; that had been Isabel. She was the one who had finished his work.

Isabel shrugged off James' touch, and forced herself to face him. It was surprisingly difficult. This man had tried turning her into a monster; his monster. James had tried to melt her down so that he could pour her into his own mold so she would become his version of Isabel Noble.

She took a deep breath, mustering up strength. Isabel wanted to slap him across the face. She stepped towards him and pressed her lips against his in a kiss. And then, Isabel bit down on his lip, hard.

James pulled away in surprise. He brought a hand to his lower lip. At first, his brow furrowed in shock and anger. Then, he grinned. "It was an absolute pleasure knowing you, Miss Noble."

He gave a polite bow, and then she was alone.

Isabel walked into the bathroom and looked at her reflection. Her fingertips traced the freshly closed wound on her neck; Sally had taken the stitches out yesterday and it had hurt like hell. The scar that would undoubtedly form would be ugly and dark. Hopefully, it would fade over time. But it would always be there. A constant reminder of what she had done.

She looked up at the ceiling. "Well, I'm leaving," she said, speaking to the hotel (and feeling a bit like an idiot). "Are you gonna try and stop me?"

There was no response from the hotel. She sighed, and went to get her messenger bag and suitcase. Only one way to find out the answer.

"''""""'"""''

The door to the Murder House opened slowly. Every move Isabel made was hesitant, afraid that she would space out again and end up back at the hotel. But once she stepped inside the house, she felt at ease.

She dropped her suitcase and messenger bag on the ground with a loud thud. Moira walked out from the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Isabel.

"Oh my god," she managed to say as she came forward, pulling Isabel into a tight embrace. "You're back. You're staying, aren't you?" she asked, pulling away and looking at me worriedly.

"Yes," Isabel said, and she felt beyond relieved to be able to say that. "Yes, I'm staying."

Moira insisted on making her tea while she unpacked. Isabel was unable to deny her, and brought her things up to her room while Moira put on the kettle.

As Isabel started unpacking, she glanced to the window. The curtains were drawn back, letting the sunlight in. She walked over to it and looked out, seeing the neighboring house. After a moment of thought, Isabel made up her mind and left her room, heading down the stairs.

Hearing the door knock was not something Constance had been expecting. Smoothing out her dress, making sure she looked presentable, she went to the front door and opened it.

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw her daughter standing at her doorstep. There was a long pause of silence. Constance stepped out of her house so she was standing directly in front of Isabel.

Wordlessly, they hugged.

"''"""""'"""""

That night, Isabel sat in her father's study, laptop in front of her with a blank Word document opened. A cup of chamomile tea sat beside the laptop. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"What are you doing?"

Isabel looked up to see Tate in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She grinned at seeing her brother. She had missed him terribly, but had known better than to go looking for him. It was best to let Tate come to her.

"I'm writing my first bestseller," Isabel boasted, sitting back in her chair, taking in the sight of her brother. Her brother who was supposed to be older than her, but wasn't because he had died before she was even born.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really."

Isabel took a sip of her tea, and then put her fingers on the keyboard of her laptop. She began typing away.