Author's Note:

Ack, another belated Stave, gomen! I'm terribly sick right now ;;. Soo, that's my explanation :3. Anyway, this one isn't very long, but it does what it's supposed to do. There's one more Stave after this and then… it's finished O:! Buuut hold your horses! I have a new big-ass KP fanfiction coming right up, so stay tuned for that ;3. I want to thank-you all for all the wonderful reviews, I'm so glad people out there enjoy this story! The person I wrote this to as a gift didn't even read it yet. And I gave it to them for Christmas xD Well… at least it's being appreciated -- thank-you 3

insert Kim Possible Disclaimer here

-A. King (SE)

Stave 4

The Last of the Three Spirits

Shrouded in a long, black, hooded cloak, the Third Spirit approached Shego (she had become glued to the very floor in fear!). Slow it moved, but O! the chilling atmosphere it brought with it. Indeed, Shego's throat felt knotted and devoid of any saliva. The Third Spirit moved lugubriously and when it stopped just short of Shego, she took a couple of steps backwards, for the Spirit looked like Death itself! (Was it not?!) Everything about the Spirit was concealed by the black garment it wore, no head rose from the collar, no eyes peered from the hood, no feet did Shego see at the base of the figure. The Spirit surely breathed (how could one tell?) misery and stolen souls.

Let me think… Shego collected, her mind racing, was it going to strike her down for her cruelty? She thought she was being given a chance at redemption! If I have already been visited by The Ghost of Christmas Past (the Monique Spirit) and The Ghost of Christmas Present (the Bonnie-Spirit) then this must surely be…

"The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come!" Shego blurted out before she had a chance to hold her tongue, "That's who you are, aren't you?" She inquired.

The Spirit stood not moving, to what seemed to Shego, for several minutes before it responded. But it did not utter a word, not even the briefest of words did anything sound from that O-so unfathomable cloak of darkness. The Spirit, you could not say nodded, but inclined its head at the question at hand.

It was at that moment that Shego first realised their surroundings. Looking about herself in bewilderment, the Bonnie-Spirit had vanished, and had everything else for that matter! There were no-longer in the room of her brother; where, or better yet, when had it all disappeared? And even better still where were they now?

Well, Shego thought, in answer to her own question, It appears we have been transported to an alleyway.

True, they had.

The alley was all in greyscale, not a colour brought gleam to it, the grime spread over the stoned ground and bricked walls was black; stones on the pathway themselves, a cold grey as were the bricks that laden the walls. There was a trashcan to Shego's left, brimming with rancid stenches of items rotting and forms of disgusting trash Shego did even want to think of giving names to. Soaked boxes littered the sides of the alleyway and garbage bags bulging with unknown contents.

Shego did not want to stay in this alley in her socks any longer. She could feel the grime and liquid (water or something else?) seeping through the materials and violating her feet.

"Where are we going?" She asked tentatively, for even with the prompt feeling of wanting to leave this alley in haste, she was still alarumed and apprehensive around this new Spirit. For the life of her she could give it no recognition, unlike the Monique- and Bonnie-Spirits.

The Third Spirit spoke not, but moved. It glided past Shego, its sleeves together like wearing a muffler and the mist trailed it like a shadow.

Catching the drift, so to say, Shego trotted down the alleyway to catch up with this enigmatic Spirit. "Aren't you going to say anything to me?"

The Spirit spoke not.

"Look, I know you may appear… well, let's just say 'the opposite of prep', but I know you mean well, right? That's what the other Spirits intentions where (well, I'm not so sure about the Bonnie-Spirit), so, will you at least speak to me?"

As before, the Third Spirit did not speak.

"Ok, fine. Whatever," Shego grumbled under her breath, her feet pattering through the puddles. "Be all broody for all I care."

The pair reached the end of the alleyway and into the city of Middleton. The air was night and this time the accompanying stars overhead appeared to shine in silence, as if equally transfixed by this most curious of Spirits. It was half-way down the street when Shego spotted three figures standing underneath a lamplight, grouped and talking.

Shego and the Third Spirit advanced on the three, like all visits, they were invisible to the assembly. And the moment Shego stopped underneath the street lamp and the light swept upon the figures, she could pin names to each face. How shocked she was to see these people!

Why, it was none other than the villains Señior Senior Sr., Señior Senior Jr. and Lord Monte Fiske (Monkey Fist)! What were they doing in Middleton together? Let alone in Shego's home turf!

"When did it happen?" Monkey Fist asked, standing in his ape-like stance.

"I was told just last night," Señior Senior Sr. replied in his heavy Spanish accent. He leaned on his cane, "I don't know much about it myself."

"What a shame!" Señior Senior Jr. cried out dramatically and cast a hand over his forehead despairingly, "And she was such a total babe too!"

"Never mind that, Junior," Señior Senior Sr. said to his son, scowling, "I want to know what happened to her money."

"I've no notion," Monkey Fist replied indifferently, his expression grim. "You'd think how greedy she was in life that she probably would have ordered it buried or burned by the solicitor."

"I hope not," Señior Senior Sr. grinded his teeth.

"With all that money, I could own hundreds of discos!" Señior Senior Jr. yelped.

"So is that what you're all here for? To embezzle her money?" Monkey Fist implored.

Señior Senior Sr. nodded, "Yes, it is a very sinister act, or so I've read in my Villainous Handbook."

"Indeed." Monkey Fist drawled, his English-tongue apparent. Clearly, he was not very impressed with the Seniors simple and novice villainous tactics.

"And what, may I ask, are you here for?" Señior Senior Sr. ventured.

Monkey Fist chuckled to himself, "What else? For what every other super villain has come to this dreary town for, a jostle for the position left open. And with Kim Possible out of the way, I dare say it'll be a slice of cake."

"A slice of banana cake, more likely" Señior Senior Jr. chuckled slyly at his own joke, thinking himself quite clever.

"Now why hadn't I thought of that..?" Señior Senior Sr. pondered aloud at Monkey Fists' prior comment, stroking is chin. "I thought that maybe you were here for the funeral?"

"Aa!" Señior Senior Jr. sobbed, "Funerals always make me cry!"

But Monkey Fist chortled again, his shoulders heaving with every intake of breath. "Don't be daft. I don't think anyone is going to attend her funeral, not with how she treated people. In fact, I think there'll be a party after she's been put six feet under!"

"A disco party?" There is no need for narration towards the owner of that comment.

The three villains all threw back their head and laughed wickedly towards this said remark. Shego wanted to stay and hear more, perhaps discover who they had been speaking off, who had died. Maybe it was Kim Possible? They did say she was out of the way and the Bonnie-Spirit said that if the future was not altered, Kim and her child would both die together.

But she could not stay, for the Third Spirit, without any warning, walked away from the scene and Shego felt compelled to follow. She kept turning her head over her shoulder, back at the three villains in an endeavour to hear more of their conversation, but she and the Spirit were no longer in earshot.

"Where are we going?" She asked the Spirit, but highly suspected she would receive no answer. When it did not answer, she demanded in rough tones, "Tell me who died!" The Spirit's steps did not even falter.

Along the street they stalked and barely a person they passed. Shego indeed wondered where the Spirit would be next taking her, especially when the journey began to feel prolonged. Down infinite streets they walked on, when they turned yet another block and the sight Shego beheld was a church. Again, The Spirit's glide did not halt for a second, but went on, surely knowingly its destination by heart. If it had one.

The church was small, with two floors and a pointed roof; it was coloured a slate-blue which completed the dark and depressing colours that surrounded the area. Rickety stone steps lead up to the two front doors, made of aging wood, and the rails themselves hung precariously. Some shingles were missing from the roof and it was covered in moss and bird droppings. And the pinnacle was a tall and austere old cross that was worn with weather.

When they reached the church, Shego expected to walk up the steps and inside. Maybe it was then that she was supposed to repent? Quite, Shego was halfway up the steps when she turned only to notice that the Spirit had turned down the side path and was gliding along without her.

Shego vaulted herself over the church railings (which shook from her weight) and jogged down the gravel path to once again catch up with the Spirit. When she did, she found that they had stopped once again in front of three people in the church graveyard, all dressed in black, their clothes and faces laden with dirt. But these were faces Shego did not recognise, but I know them, and shall disclose their names to you.

"Dude, I am so not believing the old witch croaked last night!" Junior (Mind, not Señior Senior Jr.) laughed a dorky laugh and dug the end of his shovel into the dirt to lean upon it. "It was, like, God-sent."

"Yea, I know!" Vinnie laughed too and placed a sack he had swung around his shoulder onto the ground. "But she got her just desserts, yanno?"

"Mm, dessert," Big Mike (who really was enormous!) rumbled deep in his throat from behind them both while dusting dirt from his overly-sized hands.

These people can only be grave robbers, Shego thought disgustedly. And whoever just died, they stole from; if it's Kim, I'll hurt them bad! She grinded her teeth maliciously and cracked her knuckles in a fist.

"But you can always be sure when people like her die, their stuff becomes worth, like, loads," Junior went on. "I can't wait to get my stuff in for appraisal. I've nicked some clothing, house-wear and stuff. What have you got?"

"Some knick-knacks." Big Mike put in.

Vinnie strutted forwards, jabbing a cocky thumb at his chest. "Well you know what I gots? I've stolen her gloves!"

Junior and Big Mike looked astonished. "No way, you so did not!" Junior exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes, I did!" Vinnie insisted, "And I've gotten her bed sheets and bed curtains. Nicked them while she was laying stone-cold dead in her bed, I did!"

"That's epic!" Junior whistled, "You're going to get some major cashola on that junk. But you watch out, she might haunt you."

"Pfft, what good is blankets and bed-curtains to the dead? Nothin' I say!" Vinnie smiled smugly, purely enjoying his attention.

"You're bluffing, you are!" Junior accused, pointing a finger at Vinnie.

"Am not! Take a gander for yourself, chicken!"

Junior snatched Vinnie's sack and let out a coarse laugh. Peering inside, his expression was shocked and Shego craned her neck to see what was in the bag, but could not see. Junior closed up the sack and handed it back to Vinnie. Picking up his own sack, they prepared to leave the graveyard.

Shaking his head, Junior let out another whistle. "Whoah dude, you've got more guts than I'll ever have."

Junior, Vinnie and Big Mike laughed and stalked out of the graveyard with their loot in tow. Shego stood in front of a grave watching their retreat.

With her hands folded together, she implored at the Spirit. "Who were they talking about, you have to tell me." Now she wrung her hands, the answer… it was playing around in her mind, but surely not?

If it could be said that the Third Spirit was looking at Shego, then it turned its hood from her to something in the distance to her right, further along the path of the church graveyard. Understanding the Spirit's sign language, Shego walked forward in the direction that it had directed her in.

It was some time further down the path when Shego realised that there was a moderate hill in front of her with a giant tree, its branches, barren of any life, reached out into the night sky and against the foreboding silver moon, as if it was trying to snatch the moon right out of the sky. But it was not the hill that caught her attention, nor the tree, but rather, the people atop it.

She could make out their forms and something pained within her chest.

The group was in front of a lone grave and there standing where five people: Ron Stoppable, Rufus, Wade Load and Jim and Tim Possible. All had their heads inclined to the headstone, a small one, with an even littler one, Shego just took noticed of, touching right next to it.

Shego knew what this meant, and she stopped in her shock. She halted, stunned for so long, that the party of people on the hill made their leave, walking along the path she stood on. They were within hearing distance of Shego now and she hung on to every word they said.

Jim was sniffling back tears, "We'll come next Sunday, too? Right?"

Ron was trying to smile as he walked with his hands in his pockets and Rufus riding on his shoulder. Shego gave him credit for accomplishing it so well for someone in his position. "Of course, we promised her we would."

"It isn't fair!" Tim lashed out angrily, tears streaking his face.

"It isn't." Wade replied simply, but his voice held quavers.

"I-I wish she had been alive long enough to see Her dead. We'd have danced on her gravestone!" Jim put in stubbornly and he brought up his long sleeve and wiped his noise on it.

"You know what we should do?" Tim asked his twin savagely.

"What?"

"We should vandalize that old hag's house! Even if She is dead, it'll be therapeutic!"

"Yea! We can scale it with a hand-made grappling hook! Hiccabicaboo?"

"Hoosha!"

And with the last remarks in their own twin-made-up language, they scampered off down the path and around the corner. Now it was just Wade, Ron and Rufus walking (well, Rufus was riding) along the path silently with Shego trailing with them.

After a moments silence, Wade said softly, "Ron, I'm sorry." Wade looked up at Ron while walking in step with him; Rufus chirped sadly on his shoulder.

Ron just shrugged, not showing any emotion or turning to face Wade.

"Jim and Tim are right, though," Wade continued as if the silence had been some sort of answer from his friend, "It isn't fair. And you lost… them both…"

Ron shrugged again. Then after a few paces, he nodded and a tear ran down his freckled cheek.

Shego was left standing while Wade, Ron and Rufus continued to walk down the path in silence, watching them round the corner and out of sight. She stood for a few moments, alone with nothing but her heart-wrenching feelings for the loss. Could it really be all her fault that Kim and her unborn child would die? Because Shego didn't pay her enough and Kim received no medical attention?

The reality of Kim's death hit Shego hard. All that life inside of her opponent whom she had battled on countless occassions no longer existed... gone... And Shego, herself, was the sole cause. And what more, the life that Kim Possible had been laden with had been relieved, but by a terrible price. This was not what she nor Ron had had in mind, surely. There would not be any more generations to pass on Kim's vivacious spirit. Was this what Shego had wanted the whole time?

Backing up, she trotted back to the Third Spirit who appeared to be expecting Shego's approach where it lingered, waiting somewhere among a mass of gravestones, all different sizes.

Among these grey and black gravestones was an ample stone angel, embraced with an open bible, wings spread wide and a singular tear frozen upon her cheek. There were crosses of many different styles, shapes and sizes. Also were there slabs of stone, some triangular and some only a square. Each and every gravestone was darkened and bent cryptically in a Burtonisque setting, there seemed to be no straight lines anywhere Shego looked. Some were worn and weathered, a very selective few looked brand new. Just like the one the Third Spirit was residing beside, and a freshly dug grave befell the modest stone, exactly six feet.

But the name inscribed upon the headstone, Shego could not see, for it was blackened by the creeping, spying shadows all around.

"Who were they talking about Spirit?" Shego stepped forward, begging for the Spirit to speak to her. "Who else has died? Tell me… tell me please… This Future yet to come is terrifying and I must make amends, seriously, but tell me first, tell me… Who is this other death that I hear so much about?"

The Third Spirit lifted a dead-white hand from its cloak and pointed to the gravestone it was positioned beside. Shego's eyes darted from the Spirit to the headstone.

"I can't see the name! It's too dark!" She sobbed, half from desperation and half from exasperation of the lack of communication on The Spirit's behalf.

Had the stars heard her plea? For at that exact moment, a crack of lightning streaked through the sky, bringing the only sort of light in this land of the dead. And as it did so, it illuminated the headstone in question and the name upon it flashed before Shego's eyes in horror. No!! No, no, NO!!

The Third Spirit pushed back his cloak and laughed maliciously all the while lightening cracked. Mr Barkin! He continued to laugh as she stood stunned because quick as a blink the name was revealed and gone from sight, its name became embedded inside Shego's mind, for the name on the gravestone was as follows:

SHEGO