Author's Note: Friends, witches and warlocks! We have reached our finale. And just in time, for I will soon be returning to school. But please, do not flee just yet! I beg you to stay tuned for the epilogue, which shall shortly follow this chapter.

In the mean time, please feel free to indulge yourself in the last bits of our tale and let me know your thoughts; I am eternally grateful to those who have been avid followers/reviewers of this little charm. May your souls be stirred, your hearts warmed and your bones rattled!

"In all languages of the world, there is the same proverb: 'What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.' Well, I say there isn't an ounce of truth in it. The further off they are, the closer to our heart are all those feelings we try to repress and forget. If we are in exile, we want to store away every tiny memory of our roots. When we're far from the person we love, everyone we pass in the street reminds us of them."

- Paul Coelho

Sally awoke Thursday morning to the earsplitting call of a skeleton cockerel. She rubbed her eyes, which were dried out and swollen from crying the night before, and peered up at the clock on her wall. 12:34pm.

She shot up in bed, disoriented, and cringed at the sudden throbbing in her temples. Since when did she sleep past noon? While she was in prison she took frequent naps throughout the day, but sleeping for more than twelve hours at a time just seemed so…adolescent. Was she sick? No…her body must have just needed it. It took a lot of energy being heartbroken.

Yawning widely, the ragdoll rose from her moth-eaten mattress and trudged across the room to her armoire. She stripped off her pajamas and sifted through upwards of five garments until she located a long black funeral gown. The dress was velvet and backless; it had a raised lacey collar, quarter-length sleeves and the hemline rested just above her ankles. The breast was encrusted with small rhinestones in the shape of a spider. Probably the most expensive thing she owned, she found this little treasure several years back in a small, privately-owned boutique on the edge of Hemlock Homestead. She had been saving it for a special occasion…a birth, wedding, death…but it had been sitting in her closet collecting dust for so long she figured it needed some breaking in. And what tragic event was more appropriate than this?

Sally pulled the gown out of the armoire and brushed it off, sighing. She slipped into a black silk chemise, pulled some thigh-high stockings over her knees and threw the dress over her head. She wriggled her arms through the skin-tight sleeves and zipped up the collar, cursing as it snagged a tuft of her long red hair.

"Ow," she hissed, struggling to adjust the zipper. "Jack, can you get this?"

At that moment her already-broken heart shattered into several more pieces. Jack's not here, you lovesick moron, she scolded herself. Then she let out another sigh, collapsing onto her bed. Jack. She hated that she missed him so much, that she loved him even more with every day that passed. But they just couldn't be together…now that Jack had breached her fragile trust. But was that really the only reason? Perhaps this unyielding wave of guilt and sorrow that had washed upon her ever since the day she left him came from another place. Maybe it was because all along, she knew that she had been wrong.

She was lying that day when she said to Jack that she no longer loved him. And she so badly wanted to accept his pleas for forgiveness when he was down on his knees, reaching desperately for her through the bars of her prison cell, but the shocking resemblance his former actions bared to her traumatic past had temporarily blinded her. She couldn't look at him without seeing the face of Dr. Finklestein. Her entire life the mad scientist routinely locked her away in her room, isolating her from the rest of the world and the one she loved. And when Jack sent her to prison it was like experiencing the dreaded childhood she thought she'd left behind all over again, but at the mercy of the only person she thought she could trust: the person that Dr. Finklestein had kept her away from for so many years.

Sally grabbed a tissue from the box on her nightstand and dabbed at the moisture around her eyes. She had made a terrible, awful mistake. She'd let her petty fears and a past that had long since faded get in the way of the best thing that had ever happened to her, to anyone. And now it was too late. Jack would never take her back, after the cold, despicable way she had crushed his heart. Would he?

As if to quickly save Sally from herself, Igor suddenly stumbled into the room holding a cauldron of something hissing and boiling. He smiled crookedly, revealing a rotting snaggletooth, and sauntered over to the teary-faced ragdoll.

"Why is Master Sally sad?" he rasped in his throaty voice, brow crinkling in concern.

Sally blew her nose into another tissue. "Please Igor, we've been over this. I'm not your master. You're free now; you can do whatever you want and go wherever you please. You understand that, right?"

The hunchback continued to stare at her worriedly, uncomprehending.

Sucking in her cheeks, Sally resigned. "Whatcha got there?" she asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the bubbling mixture within Igor's cauldron.

"Breakfast for Master Sally!" he announced. "Igor make oatmeal with biscuits and old milk he find in Doctor's lab."

Sally choked back bile. "Um, thanks," she croaked. "But you know…it looks very hot. Perhaps we should let it cool down for a bit. Could you put it…way over there?" She pointed to a solitary, cobweb-covered fern stand across the room.

Igor nodded eagerly and did as he was told.

"Hey buddy, why don't you get dressed and washed up?" Sally suggested as she rose to her feet once again. "Go put on that black tuxedo I made for you last Sunday. And I think I might be able to dig up a nice top hat to go with it."

"Okay!" agreed Igor. "Igor get all fancy for Master Sally."

Sally rolled her eyes, running a comb through her long auburn hair. "It's not for me, it's for – forget it. Just make sure you're finished by two-thirty."

As Igor scurried out of the room in excited heat, she added, "And don't forget to brush your teeth!"

With that, the dejected ragdoll trekked down the hallway and into the bathroom. She extracted her cosmetic supplies from the drawer and ran the faucet, splashing some cold water onto her face. Uncapping her eyeliner pencil, Sally dabbed some primer onto her eyelids and proceeded to trace her waterlines with the black ink.

Then, just as she was preparing a palette of various eye shadows, she heard a strange rumbling in the distance. At first she decided to ignore it, but the sound steadily increased and she began to grow distracted, which aggravated her. She slammed her makeup brush down on the counter and rushed back into her bedroom where she leaned out the window, struggling to identify the source of the rumbling.

It was then that her heart stopped and her hands went numb. Across the bridge to the Town Square marched a procession of unidentifiable ghouls lead by a hooded figure with a glimmering reaper. They were pulling along a tall wooden stake that sat atop a wheeled platform with several ropes attached.

Suddenly unable to breathe, Sally laid a trembling hand to her forehead and took a few steps backward. Her vision then went black and she collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

Two hours later…

"Master! Master Sally! Are you okay?"

Sally's eyes cracked open and she let out a small groan. As she struggled to hoist her body upright, the feeling gradually returned to her limbs and her vision solidified. She was surprised to see Igor hovering over her, dressed in a sleek black tux and top hat, a panicked expression contorting his features.

"Igor…" she murmured, groggy and confused. "Well, I see you managed to dress yourself today."

"Why was Master Sally sleeping on the floor?" inquired the anxious hunchback.

Sally rubbed her eyes, cursing when she noticed the smudges of black eyeliner on her knuckles. "I was just…taking a little nap," she replied half-heartedly. "What time is it?"

Igor squinted up at the analog clock on the wall and then reported, "The little hand is on the '2,' and the big hand is on the '10.' Igor wins!"

Sally gasped. "It's two-fifty! The execution starts in ten minutes!"

She scrambled to her feet and raced into the bathroom, hastily fixing her makeup. Then she grabbed a handful of cosmetics and shoved them along with her cell phone into a small black clutch purse. Spritzing her neckline with a rather large amount of tuberose perfume, she stuffed her feet into a pair of suede stilettos and stumbled down the spiral staircase towards the front door.

"Let's go, Igor!" she called impatiently up the stairs.

The hunchback appeared holding a tarnished bong along with a mini-mart lighter, a sheepish grin spread across his cheeks.

"Igor, not now!" demanded Sally.

Crestfallen, Igor dropped his bong and reluctantly followed the distraught ragdoll out the door.

At last they reached the Town Square where they found themselves quickly submerged in a sea of ghouls clad in gothic attire. The solemn knell of a requiem bell echoed from a distance, and Sally spotted the dreadful wooden stake from earlier stationed near the central fountain. It towered menacingly over the crowd of anxious citizens, casting a shadow that nearly reached across to the Town Hall. The Grim Reaper was assembling a pile of chopped wood around the base of the stake, and Behemoth approached him carrying a coil of rope along with a ladder.

Licking her dry lips, Sally withdrew a mesh veil from her purse and draped it seclusively over her face. She squeezed through the mass of ghouls, Igor stumbling along at her heels, until finally she burst out the back of the throng and stationed herself next to the guillotine monument. Discretely she scanned the assembly of council members that gathered around the front steps of the Town Hall. So far, there was no sign of Jack.

Distressed mutterings filled the plaza, causing Sally's ears to ring uncomfortably. She watched as the front doors of the Town Hall opened and Boris stepped outside clutching the left arm of Anastasia, whose wrists were firmly tied behind her back. Lars soon appeared behind them, quickly grabbing hold of Anastasia's other arm, and together the two guards escorted their prisoner to the center of the plaza. They stopped for a moment next to the tall wooden stake to speak with the executioner. Sally couldn't believe what she was about to witness.

Suddenly the Town Hall doors swung open once again, and out stepped a stone-faced Jack, who took his position on the front steps between the Mayor and the witch sisters. Sally's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her ex-lover, the curator behind this whole event. Never had she felt worse for causing Jack to question his leadership abilities…this entire time he was only acting on the town constitution, doing everything in his power to remain a fair and just ruler to his people. Sally couldn't even begin to imagine all of the hurt, stress and anguish he must have experienced in the past week. And at least half of it was on her account.

Jack took a step forward, silencing the crowd with a wave of his skeletal hand. Then he nodded in the direction of Lars, Boris and the executioner, which Sally assumed was the signal to begin. Behemoth positioned his ladder against the stake, and the executioner took Anastasia from the prison guards and instructed her to climb to the top of it and sit down.

For a reason Sally would never understand, the sea demon calmly complied. Without a word she sat on the top step with her back against the stake, and the Grim Reaper climbed up behind her with a coil of rope and fastened her firmly to it. Then he jumped back down and pulled the ladder away, leaving Anastasia to levitate helplessly twenty feet off the ground. However her cool, composed facial expression didn't change; in fact she almost looked bored.

Sally was beyond perplexed. Why wasn't Anastasia spitting and struggling like she was at the second trial? Maybe this is what happens when one knows death is imminent, she thought to herself.

Beside Sally, Mr. Hyde (whom she hadn't noticed before) stifled a small whimper and lit a cigarette, offering drags to the two smaller Hydes under his hat. She stared at him, surprised.

"You smoke?" she asked.

Without exchanging eye contact with the ragdoll, Mr. Hyde flatly stated, "Honey, it's the 1950's. Everyone smokes."

Sally sighed and returned her gaze to the dreadful spectacle before her. Up on the stake, Anastasia had closed her eyes and she appeared to be mumbling to herself, like she was praying. Below her Lars and Boris were piling more firewood around the stake's base, though Sally had lost sight of the executioner.

Suddenly the requiem bell started to ring louder and faster, and a large, glowing flame appeared just beneath the entryway to the Town Hall. Sally soon noticed that the flame was attached to a torch held high by the Grim Reaper, who slowly descended the front steps as Jack and the rest of the council members stepped aside.

Heart racing uncontrollably, Sally scanned the faces of the other ghouls in the crowd while everyone watched the executioner slowly make his way towards the helpless victim. She spotted Stephen Wolfe a few feet away from her, sobbing and trembling violently into the branches of the Hanging Tree. Lock, Shock, Barrel and Oogie were near the front of the group looking equally disturbed. Jack on the other hand retained his blank expression; he looked like a statue standing completely still and emotionless on the topmost step of the Town Hall. This was his last chance to call off the execution, as Sally half-expected he would…

"Let this be a lesson to you all!" Grim's voice suddenly boomed over the crowd. He stood at the base of the stake, repeatedly thrusting his torch up into the air. "Any resident of Halloween Town found guilty of manslaughter shall promptly be put to death at the stake regardless of atonement."

It was that moment that Anastasia's face suddenly went stark white. She squirmed uncomfortably in her position, and Sally could see moisture forming around the edges of her large yellow eyes. She couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears.

Firmly grasping the torch with both hands, Grim looked expectantly at Jack, like he was anticipating some kind of signal. The Pumpkin King squeezed his eye sockets shut, and everyone held their breath as time seemed to stand still for a moment. At last Jack bowed his head, giving a slow and subtle nod.

Sally watched in paralyzing horror as Grim bent down and set the pile of firewood alight. Quickly the flames augmented and engulfed the brittle lumber, emitting a shower of sparks and black smoke. Grim, Lars and Behemoth swiftly retreated to a safe distance and Boris suddenly took off running down the street. Jack had opened his eyes, and he was gazing upon the spectacle with the same numb, empty expression from before. All of the other ghouls in the plaza remained in similar a state of awestruck petrifaction.

With every second that passed the flames snaked higher up the stake, hissing and crackling like a deadly serpent. Hands sweating profusely, Sally waited in agony for the moment she'd finally look away. The flames climbed higher and higher. The requiem bell rang louder and louder. The smoke grew thicker and thicker. Sally's heart beat faster and faster.

When the fire climbed so high as to lick Anastasia's tailfin, Stephen Wolfe burst into a heartbreaking wail and Sally suddenly fell to her knees, shutting her eyes and covering her ears. She couldn't bear to watch any longer; even Anastasia Finn deserved to die with more dignity than this.

Sally remained like this, blind, deaf and unmoving, for fifteen excruciating minutes that seemed to last an eternity. She struggled with every fiber of her being to imagine herself somewhere else, like in a bright, peaceful meadow…

Sally's heart swelled with fondness as bundles of chrysanthemums suddenly unfurled before her, swaying in the gentle breeze while all around her birds sang in perfect harmony. She twirled blissfully to their soothing melodies, giggling as she pranced into the middle of the clearing where the sun covered her entire body in pleasant warmth. In the midst of another twirl someone suddenly grabbed her by the arm and she stopped, turning to lay eyes upon the stranger. He was tall and thin with long, spider-like limbs and he smelled deliciously of pumpkin spice. He smiled lovingly down at Sally, proceeding to bend over and softly kiss her hand. It was Jack, and he had forgiven her…

It wasn't until she felt a light tapping on her shoulder that Sally suddenly snapped back to reality. Through her slightly cracked eyelids she noticed Mr. Hyde hovering protectively over her, his cheeks sunken and his eyes grave. His wide build shielded Sally from the awful scene, and thus she cautiously uncovered her ears and proceeded to look up at him through her glazed, watery vision.

Removing his hat respectfully (his two doppelgangers doing the same), Mr. Hyde caressed Sally's back comfortingly and whispered, "Everything's okay now, darling. It's over."

Relieved though strangely remorseful, Sally rose to her feet and brushed off her velvet gown. She glanced warily over to the center of the plaza where she spotted the lonely stake, charred and smoking, with Behemoth and the executioner stationed near its base carrying something wrapped in a blanket. Sally's stomach gave a violent lurch as she realized what it was.

Mr. Hyde wrapped his arms around her as she once again began to tremble and choke, however no tears came to her eyes this time. She watched with a heavy heart as Behemoth hoisted the covered body onto a rolling platform and wheeled it into the back of the Mayor's hearse. The show was over, and Anastasia was dead.

It was then that the crowd of mournful citizens finally began to disperse. Slowly lifting her head off of Mr. Hyde's shoulder, Sally looked over towards the Town Hall where she spotted Jack and the other council members bowing their heads respectfully as the Mayor read a traditional prayer from a roll of crumpled parchment. Sally withdrew herself from Mr. Hyde's embrace and thanked him for his kind support. Then, with wobbly knees, she began to gradually make her way across the square through the scattering crowd.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she walked, but she kept a straight, steady path towards the Town Hall. She passed by Bob and Darla Corpsechild, who were blinking away tears as they held onto the hands of their bawling son, Billy. She spotted Lock, Shock and Barrel with their heads hung low, following a doleful Oogie out into the pumpkin patch. She saw Stephen Wolfe retching into the fountain. The requiem bell continued to echo solemnly from a distance, though it had slowed, and as Sally neared the blackened stake the air began to smell sickeningly of smoked trout.

At last she stopped a few feet away from the Mayor's hearse, and from there she calmly waited for him and the other council members to disband.

After several more minutes the witch sisters, Lars, the executioner and Behemoth finally nodded their goodbyes and went their respective ways. The Mayor, tucking away his roll of parchment, awkwardly turned and attempted to hug Jack's thin frame. But the Pumpkin King didn't respond. He merely stood there, still blank and rigid as a statue until the Mayor resigned and departed into his hearse, driving away towards the mortuary. It was when all of his cohorts had left that Jack suddenly dropped to his knees and began softly weeping into his hands.

Fresh tears welling up in her own eyes, Sally rushed over to the friend she never stopped loving and kneeled beside him, laying a small, quivering hand on his spine. "Come on, Jack," she spoke gently. "Let's go home."