Ezra, Phineas, and Gus rolled to a stop, solidifying themselves enough to smack into the crypt wall. It was more of a disgusting than eerie place. Mold covered the walls and floor, and even sprinkled the spider webs. It had been the tomb of warriors. Around the stone coffins were suits of armor, complete with weapons. The trio shot grins to one another.

"CHARGE!" cried Ezra, sword raised high as he and his friends ran out to the graveyard. They started clashing with Silas, Emmet and Felicia. Out of the Mansion marched suits of armor from George's collection. Onward, the ghosts pushed, valiantly fending off the ghastly ghouls. Amazingly, it was Paul, who stood in the front line of the battle, kicking and punching.

Meanwhile, a crowd of trick-or-treaters and their parents had gathered by the mansion. The battling ghosts and the giant warlock looked so real! It had to be an elaborate show set up by the city council. They'd been trying to increase tourism for years, after all. Or maybe the nearby arts university was responsible.

Taking a running leap, George raised the sword high, preparing to plunge it into Atticus. It would all be over soon and—

A bright, blinding flash caught him off guard and he nearly dropped the sword. Dots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. This was the only chance Atticus needed. He punched George, sending him flying back.

"GEORGE!" Leila screamed.

"I'm okay," he mumbled with a wave, his face in the dirt. "What was that?" Looking up, he saw a middle aged woman lower her camera.

"Mind posing for another one?" she asked.

Anger boiling in him, he yelled, "You think this is just a show?! A GAME?! Get out of here!"

Around him, people muttered about how great his acting was. Leila frowned. Great, now innocent people were at stake, and they were too stupid to get out of harm's way. But maybe it was a good thing. After all, if the town thought she was some kind of witch, the kids at school would never let her live it down. But the con outweighed the pro.

She turned just in time to see Silas lunge at a little girl. The tot shrieked. Coming to her rescue, Gus lifted his chain and swung the metal ball at him, knocking him away. Before running away, the tyke gave Gus a candy bar from her bag, which he happily accepted and quickly scarfed it, the bits of chocolate raining down through him and onto the ground.

"We're losing too many!" cried Leota.

"Troops are falling back," panted Phineas. Lifting up his helmet's visor, he couldn't help but grin at his authentic sounding war lingo. "A bunch of us have to keep rescuing…civilians."

By now, it was as if a hurricane was blowing through. Furious winds whipped mud, dirt, and even some of the loose gravestones. Practically blind, Leila and George trudged on, having to dig in their heels to stay attached to the earth. Even the spirits, both good and bad, were having trouble moving in their right directions.

Crouched behind a tombstone, George waited for his chance. Atticus had his back to him now, cackling like a mad man. Above them, the sky was a sickly green, the clouds swirling like a whirlpool in a tumultuous sea.

The living people around them were beginning to get uneasy. After being attacked and nearly knocked out, they were starting to think that just maybe this wasn't for their entertainment. As they were trying to run away to safety, one person pushed through the throng.

"LEILA!"

The blond turned to see her mother shouting her name. "No, Mom! Leave!"

Seeing the opportunity, Silas dodged away from Ezra's blade and pounced on Mrs. Toombs.

"MOM!" With one hand thrust in that direction, she hit the ghoul with a stream of green magic, sending him flying. Mrs. Toombs stared at her with shock. "Tell ya later, Mom. Got some business to take care of." Clenching her fists, energy crackled around them. "C'mon, Geoge, let's finish off this sucker."

George looked up from where he had been crouched behind a tombstone, watching Atticus.

"There's spirits surrounding him…and lightning is touching down around him!" he cried, panicked.

"I don't care. We're going in. Hold up the sword." He did as she said, and she aimed a blue beam at it. She really didn't know exactly what she was doing. Magic whispered in her mind, giving her instructions. Deep down, she knew it told her the same things it had whispered to her father and grandparents years ago. The sword now fully "charged" it slowly floated back down and into George's hands.

He stared at her. Something had changed. It was a new maturity, a calmness, an understanding. His stomach knotted in fear, he felt like a coward next to her. If he couldn't go through with this he didn't deserve to so much as stand on the same patch of dirt as her. Gritting his jaw, he clasped the handle tightly and bowed his head to her. He then stood up, a determined expression fixed upon his young face.

Eyes fiercely glaring at the warlock's back, he ran, pumping the legs that had been so hard to get used, as fast as he could. Nothing was going to stop him. No more cowering. He didn't care if Atticus hit him with everything at his disposal. He was going to finish this job. He was going to save his friends, his family, his mansion. Around him, ghosts screamed, weapons clashed, lightning struck. Heart pounding, he raised the sword high. A calming blue light surrounded him. Leila had surrounded him with her magic, guaranteeing his safety. Filled with hope, he jumped and thrust the blade down as Atticus turned, piercing his side.

Blood gushed and poured out, spraying oddly out as it splashed against Leila's force field. Lightning bounced off it. Atticus couldn't get his hands through it. Screaming in pain, he set his sights on the girl. Defeat would not be that easy! NO! After years of waiting, he wasn't going to give in that easy! If he couldn't get George, he'd get the girl.

Her multicolored eyes were glued on George, making sure her magic stayed strong around him. She felt weak now. Her body was trembling. Why wouldn't Atticus just die already--…

A million bolts of electricity ran through her, sending her crashing into a large tomb stone. The back of her head hit hard and everything went dark.

"LEILA!" Mrs. Toombs, George, Leota, and Paul screamed at once. The shield around George flickered out.

"You can't win, boy," Atticus snarled, grabbing George around his throat, and lifting him. With his grip on the handle, George pulled out the blood soaked sword. "A mere flesh wound won't kill me, I'm too powerful." His voice was haggard, but George could see the flesh wound starting to heal itself.

His vision becoming blurry with lack of air, he weakly kept stabbing him in the stomach. With each jab, Atticus flinched, but the wounds closed each time. One cut, he knew, wouldn't heal. But if only he could… With one burst of strength, George brought sword up, and swung down, lopping off the villain's hand at the wrist.

As Atticus shrieked, George fell, gulping air as far as he could. Now, his objective was clear. He sprang back up.

Meanwhile, Leila lay unconscious. Her mother had rushed to her side and now cradled her head in her lap. "Oh, my baby," she murmured as tears fell down her cheeks. Suddenly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned.

Ashley Toombs smiled back at her, his ghostly form glowing with a golden light unlike those of the other spirits. Lightly, he touched Leila's forehead. Her eyes fluttered open. "…Daddy?"

Gently, he reached down and picked her up. She stared at him in disbelief as her eyes filled with tears. "Dad!" Flinging her arms around him, she hugged him tightly and he embraced her back.

"We're gonna do this together, sweetie," he said, pulling back. "I couldn't stand around and watch you get hurt any longer." Behind him, Leila's grandparents, Rosa and Christopher, appeared. All of the Toombs held hands in a line. Leota floated up beside Leila. Leila's mother sat by the grave, awestruck.

Leila could feel the magic coursing through them, building up. She felt her father let go of her hand, and she followed the others as they raised their hands, palms out, facing Atticus. Their power streaming out and combining into one beam.

Atticus threw fireballs at George with his one hand. The young man had managed to dodge most of them, but not without being a little singed. He kept slashing at Atticus, succeeding in only delivering quick gashes.

The magic hit the fiend in the stomach, making him scream and writhe. His own magic weakening, he began to shrink to his normal size. Falling to his knees, he looked up at George, fear in his eyes. "Please…" he pleaded weakly, his voice cracking as tears fell. He had never cried before.

One final time, George raised the sword above his head.

"Plea--please!"

He brought the weapon down as hard as he could. The headless body of Atticus Thorne slumped to the mud. Numb and shaking, George dropped the sword. His task now complete, he fainted.