Chapter 23 - Saving Willow

The 12th floor of the Hope Memorial, the Long Term Care Unit, was cold, silent and empty. Unlike the rest of the floors, there weren't any doctors or nurses rushing along the long corridors, patients - sick or injured - sitting in neat lines waiting to be tended or families milling about aimlessly with bleak expressions on their faces. There were no sounds of urgent chatter, hurried footsteps, rolling gurneys or medical equipment. A faint scent of lavender and pine greeted Joe as he exited the elevator and turned left with the twins, his brother following closely behind, instead of the strong odour of antiseptic and bleach that had hit him full in the face at the entrance. All in all, it felt as if they had just entered a deserted corridor of an empty hotel rather than a wing of a hospital.

An elderly nurse, whose name tag identified her as 'Sarah,' waited at the end of the corridor where the closed door had the number '601' displayed on a bronze plaque. There were only four rooms on this side, two on the left and two on the right of the corridor. He understood that the remaining six rooms were to the right of the elevator, which completed the entirety of the ward.

Sarah silently opened the door as they arrived at Willow's room and excused herself after quietly informing them to call the nurse station by dialling '0' on the phone if they needed her assistance. Temperance thanked her and closed the door quietly, locking it, after her departure.

Willow Eliana Saunders lay unmoving under the blankets of the single bed in the middle of the room, her long pale blond hair spread over her pillow like a halo around her head. There were only two monitors attached to her that Joe could see; one to keep track of her brain activity while the other monitored her pulse. She also looked rather thin and pale compared to her sisters, and it made sense, Joe supposed, seeing as she had spent a little over four years stuck on this bed while her sisters moved on with their lives.

Constance and Temperance went near Willow from opposite sides of the bed and planted kisses on her cheeks before retreating towards the couch near the window to collapse on it as one. They still looked exhausted after everything that had happened the day before. Joe felt the same and Frank looked like he wanted nothing but to collapse on a bed somewhere too. But Willow's time was running out fast, and he wanted to be here and see if there was anything they could do to help before she faded away to nothing.

"Families like ours, the gifted ones, they are old, ancient even, with long histories and bloodlines," Constance murmured, staring up at the white ceiling. "So the Council has records on all of us. We're known, at least, among the rest of others like us," then she looked down and focused on Joe. "Cailleach's agents are different–"

"According to the legends, and a very rare few personal accounts, she picks and chooses them on Halloween nights when she gets to leave her post and roam around this world," Temperance picked up her sister's line of thought. "It's hard to keep track when Shepherds are chosen according to a set of criteria only known to some deity who only shows up once a year."

"We aren't quite sure how many the Council has in its records, but our family personally knows two pairs," Constance said when Temperance nodded at her. "Aditya and Ahmed Setiawan from Indonesia and Bella Steiner and Leo Bauer from Austria. Setiawan brothers visited her only a few months after her accident and Bella and Leo came to see her two years back. They couldn't help her. They had no idea what was wrong with her when we explained to them she was split in two. That's why Willow was so excited when she found you guys. She was pretty sure that if anyone could help, it'd be you…"

Joe stood by the foot of Willow's bed and stared at her unmoving form. Frank stayed next to him, silently watching the girls as they took turns telling them about how their sister had been. He felt strangely reluctant to touch her to see if he could find out what was keeping her soul separated into two halves. If more experienced agents of Cailleach had visited her already and hadn't been able to do anything, how was he supposed to fix this? Listening to the way the twins talked, it seemed that they had already made up their minds that he and Frank were the ones who could save Willow. He really wasn't looking forward to crushing their hopes if they couldn't figure out how to bring Willow back together into a whole entity.

"I'm so sorry if it feels like we are putting a heavy burden on you, Joe," Temperance said softly, correctly reading his silence. "We have faith in you. We saw what you did yesterday. There's just no one else who can do what you can do–"

Joe dragged his eyes away from Willow and focused on the twins. "It's not like I've done anything like this before," he mumbled. "I can't promise you it'll work out, but I'll do my best."

"That's all we ask for," Constance said with a small smile. "And, if it doesn't work out, it's okay too. We saw Willow again last night, in our dreams. She wants us to speak to mom and dad about taking her off life support. She's done with hanging around in this existence. She wants to see if that would at least make it easier for her to pass on…"

"It's Willow's decision, sis," Temperance murmured when Constance trailed off, her face darkening with a sorrowful expression. "Just, please, do what you can," she said to Joe quietly.

Joe turned his head to look at Frank. His brother gave him an encouraging nod, wordlessly asking him to do what he could. He took a deep breath and went around the bed to Willow's left side. He took her thin cold hand into his and sat down next to her on the edge of the soft, blanket-covered mattress.

The moment his skin touched Willow's palm, things changed.

The only way he could describe what happened was to say that his touch somehow drew Willow's incomplete soul to the surface. It manifested the same way the influence or an attack of an angry spirit did. All visible veins on her neck, forehead, arms and hands popped up to the surface, creating a spiderweb of gleaming black lines contrasting starkly with the grey pallor of her skin. It looked like she had black ink running through her veins instead of blood. He instinctively understood that it looked as if it were an attack because her own body couldn't recognize her soul in its fractured state.

That was not the only strange thing that his touch revealed.

There were more lines, dark, blood-red ones, all over her skin, overlapping and intertwining with the black veins. Those strange lines looked like chains on closer inspection - chains that were firmly wrapped around the individual strands of her soul. He wasn't sure what he was expecting - maybe a sense of invasiveness or even malice because these red chains on her soul did not belong on her soul - but what he felt was a strong sense of defensiveness, a barrier that radiated protectiveness.

"What is it?" Frank asked softly, noticing his confusion.

"It's not what I thought it would be…" he murmured.

On the other side of the bed, Willow's other half manifested in a transparent ghostly figure. She looked blurrier and wavy as if she was having trouble hanging on to her incorporeal form. Her face was twisted into a pained frown and her lips were moving, trying to say something, but her efforts failed to make any sounds.

He firmly ignored the surprised gasps from Temperance and Constance. He was grateful that neither of them tried to talk to their sister, to him or interfere in any way, other than staying seated on the couch, almost frozen to the spot.

Frank was on the other side of Willow's bed as well, therefore closer to the hurting spirit. "Frank," he called softly, drawing his brother's attention from the ghost to Willow's body, which now resembled a patchwork of red and black lines. "Do you see what I see?"

Frank moved closer, taking care not to touch her bare skin and leaned over to take a better look.

"The black lines are familiar," his brother muttered, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "They are like the ones you and Chet had. I don't know what the deal with the red ones is though," he looked up from his intent observation and frowned. "They don't look so good–"

"They aren't," Joe said. They were hurting Willow's soul, and they were responsible for keeping her in her broken state. But their purpose wasn't what he expected at all. "It's what's keeping her soul split in two. But Frank, I think this is what kept her safe all this time, her and her sisters."

The now familiar musical voice woke up in the deep recess of his mind then, the song of her voice carried a layer of sorrow for what she had done to the young soul.

"She didn't die as she should have done, little one, for it was not her time," Cailleach's words flowed in his mind like a troubled stream. "Hecate was determined. She had been planning her moves for a long time…"

"She was responsible for what happened to Willow?" Joe thought back, hoping the voice in his head would answer.

"Yes. All three sisters were supposed to die that day, together," Cailleach said. "But Fate intervened. Hecate tried to take the young soul hostage, but the young girl was determined to fight back. It was not her time, therefore she had an advantage…"

"What did you do?"

"I bound her determination to live, to her body," the Guardian of the Souls admitted. "I am of the Old, I am bound by rules, I could not return a soul back to its body, but I could let the half that wanted to stay behind, stay."

That was why the strange red vines wrapped around Willow's felt like they were protecting her, even while hurting her, Joe realised.

"You did this to her. You split her up–" Joe couldn't help the accusation that bled into his thoughts. He understood the reasons. But still, it had been a hellish existence for Willow.

"That was the only way to save all three of them, to stop Hecate's invasion, until you came along. You are the one who walks the line, little one…"

Joe didn't really understand what she meant by that, and he couldn't really decipher her mysterious, almost expectant tone. The important thing he needed to know right now was whether he could do anything to fix the ancient Guardian's intervention, and bring some peace to Willow.

"Can I help her?"

"You and your Shield, together, as one…"

Cailleach's voice faded and Joe looked up, blinking. Frank was staring at him intently. "You need to take her hand," he said to Frank, nodding at Willow's free hand. He had a feeling he understood what Cailleach meant. "What we see here is Cailleach's protection," seeing Frank's raised eyebrow, he added, "after a fashion. Your touch is going to draw her influence into you and you're going to send it back to where it belongs–"

Frank's eyes widened. Joe could see about a hundred questions fighting to make their way out of his brother's mind and through his mouth to the open, demanding answers. Frank must have seen something in his expression, because all he did was let out a loud weary sigh and take a seat next to Willow on the opposite edge of the bed, mirroring Joe's posture.

"So that's what I'm doing," he muttered under his breath before facing Joe. "How am I doing it exactly?"

"By not letting go until it's all gone from her, no matter how hard or painful it is," he murmured apologetically. Frank hadn't experienced the excruciating sensation of touching a spirit because of his nature. He had no idea if Cailleach's influence, no matter how well-intentioned, was going to hurt his brother or not. He figured it was better to prepare Frank for it anyway. Then he flashed a sideways grin he knew would agitate his brother even more. "Just let your instincts take over."

Frank glared at him, supremely unimpressed. Joking aside, that was exactly what Frank had to do. Joe couldn't have told him anything else even if his life depended on it. He trusted his brother enough to know that he would figure it all out soon enough.

"I'm beginning to hate this job," Frank sighed and looked away after a long moment. He understood the meaning behind Joe's words without further explanation.

"The moment you clear her up, I'm going to bridge Willow to her body," Joe said to Frank before turning to face the spirit now hovering near the EEG monitor directly. "And hope that you make it through…"

Upon receiving her solemn nod of understanding, Joe nodded to his brother.

Frank glanced up in a quick hopeful gesture of praying for divine intervention before smoothly sliding his upturned right palm under Willow's down-turned hand. His hand clamped around hers almost on its own accord. Frank squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, his entire face scrunching up to a twisted expression of agony.

The red lines dissolved into a million red dots the moment his brother made contact. Willow's hand turned warm in his hold as the invading influence dissolved under Frank's presence. The spots swarmed and wavered all over Willow's skin as if they wanted to run away from the power that was driving it away.

Frank's breathing turned harsh as he fought to keep the skin contact and Joe stayed where he was, praying for it to end soon.

It felt like a lifetime, but the crimson influence only managed to put up defiance for a few long seconds. Then just as any other ghostly sickness, it started to withdraw its clutches from Willow's soul. Instead of vanishing entirely from her skin, the dissolved red lines gathered into a cloud and travelled under her right palm as Joe watched, horrified and fascinated in equal amounts.

Then it slithered off her and into Frank's hand, only to travel up his arm as his brother shook with the effort. Frank's left hand moved away from his body and up, with his palm turned up towards the ceiling, and it looked like Frank wasn't completely aware of what he was doing.

The red cloud travelled into his left palm at light speeds, it looked like it streaked through him as if it couldn't wait to get the hell away from him. Frank was hurting Cailleach's bindings just as much, or maybe even more, than it was hurting him.

The red cloud leapt out of his left palm into thin air, and the entire room felt as if it was drowned in a freezing chill that belonged to the world of the spirits. Now, firmly released from its responsibilities, the red cloud was more than eager to hurry back to where it belonged, as far away as possible from the plane of the living.

The moment the last of the reddish haze disappeared from sight, Frank let out a groan and slumped in on himself, still holding onto Willow. Joe had one more thing to do before he could break the contact and check on Frank.

"Willow… Now!" He extended his free hand and called out urgently.

The spirit leapt into him and he had no time to even feel the familiar burning cold sensation whenever he touched a spirit. She was through him and into her own body in less than a second. He stood up from his perch, withdrawing his hand and went around the bed to where Frank was still seated next to her, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. He slowly separated Frank's hand from Willow's and sat next to his brother.

"Frank," Joe called softly, a hand on his shoulder. Frank felt warm to the touch and his body was still trembling from the feedback of what he had just channelled out of Willow's body. "Brother, hey, talk to me," Joe cajoled when he stayed silent.

"I'm alright," Frank's voice was a dry rasp that had them both wincing. "Just give me a sec."

"You sure? Did it hurt?"

That was a stupid question. He only realised after it slipped out. He was getting worried about Frank's continued silence. After a long moment, Frank looked up with a blazing scowl flashing in his tired brown eyes.

"No, Joe," his brother snapped. "It was only like shaking hands with a hundred-volt livewire. No big deal."

Joe took his hand into his own and checked it quickly. Frank was not the one who was prone to exaggeration and for a moment he thought his brother was actually injured. Frank's hand was clammy and pale, and unmarred.

"Wow!" he said, grinning like a loon to hide his relief. "You don't even have a bruise to show for it."

Frank let out a bone-rattling sigh and focused on Willow's still form. "Is it done?" he asked tiredly.

Joe turned his gaze toward her as well, his momentary mirth dying at the sight of her. "Yeah, she's all in there now, finally whole," then he looked up and met the expectant and worried gazes of Constance and Temperance, staring at them intently from their couch. At his nod, they hurried over to the bed and sat on the side Joe vacated. "It's all up to her now."

Willow continued to lay there, unchanged. Her monitors remained the same, displaying the brain wave patterns and pulse of a comatose patient. They all stared at her, with varying expressions of hope, and silent encouragement. After a long few minutes of absolute silence, Joe averted his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. He grimaced at the feel of the stubble on his jawline, which reminded him that he needed a shave.

"I'm so sorry–" he heard Frank's soft murmur.

"It's okay," Constance said, looking at them both with a bleary smile. Her eyes were shining bright with unshed tears. "You did all you could. You and Joe finally freed her from the hell she was trapped in. Thank you so much."

"We will never be able to repay you for what you do for her," Temperance added, her tone filled with gratitude. "Maybe she can pass painlessly now. She's at peace," her voice wobbled at the end.

There was nothing but quiet breathing and soft sniffles after that, four of them lost in their own thoughts, sitting together surrounding the sleeping Willow.

Joe stared at the line on the monitor that depicted a calm pulse, spiking serenely at long intervals at the entirely-too-sedate pace of sixty-three beats a minute. It drew him into a lull, dragging him away from his mind trying to think of all the things he could have done to do more for the dying girl. Lost in the hypnotic waves of the monitor, he almost missed the sudden increase in the pulse rate. He blinked a few times, thinking he must have seen something that wasn't there.

"She can be," a very weak voice said softly, finally joining the world of the living after a damn long time. In the grief-filled silence, it was louder and sharper than a crack of a whip against the tiles. "If you all just stop crying and snivelling around me."

A pair of bright silver eyes and a tiny smile greeted him when he snapped back to face Willow Saunders. The high-pitched screaming, crying and laughter that erupted in the room in the wake of those words were enough to summon the entire nursing staff and the doctors into room 601 of Hope Memorial in panic, only to witness an incredibly joyous moment.