How mighty then you are, O, hear me tell!

The broken bosoms that to me belong

Have emptied all their fountains in my well,

And mine I pour your ocean all among:

I strong o'er them, and you o'er me being strong,

Must for your victory us all congest,

As compound love to physic your cold breast.

W. Shakespeare

She slammed the door to her apartment shut like an incorrigible, eight year old who was just told Christmas was cancelled.

In a lot of ways, Abbie pretty much felt it was, forever.

She went straight for the bottle of rum she had kept tucked away under the sink. She had been hiding it from herself since Katrina had come back. The liquid slid down her throat like the fires of Mordor, so good she poured a second glass, then a third.

How could he be so stupid?

It wasn't the plan that she had envisioned, it hadn't been the way she assumed it would go when the still afflicted witch started talking. Abbie had listened with judicious believability, up until the point Katrina decided to save both the world and her marriage.

"We can beat this, Ichabod," she insisted with clutched hands. "This whole thing, we can end this. You and I the way it was meant to be. "

Bullshit, bullshit and oh yeah, more bullshit.

She had railed at him then, after the plan had been poured forth. Abbie railed and rallied. She reminded Crane of a conversation chased with poison and followed with his promise of never again.

Never again.

Apparently never again was only until his wife showed up.

Her phone rang for the eleventh time as she sat on the floor of her kitchen. The bottle of rum near half finished off. Tears burned at the edges of her eyes and threatened to spill. Abbie wiped at them; refusing to be reduced to them over more of Crane's stupid choices.

"There is always another way." She had insisted.

"This is the only way, Abbie." He had placed his hands on her shaking shoulders and gripped them as if she were the last way out of a burning house. "Do you not see that? I will die. Or, worse yet, anyone in the vicinity. You don't come back from death, no matter what the circumstance."

"But it's all been temporary." Abbie had insisted, her voice cracking with emotions so raw and pain filled she had felt she would faint. "We don't know what the parameters are. We don't know what hell she has caused."

"Miss Mills." Katrina spoke. "It has to be this. Our going back, to our own time will stop this madness,

She turned on her then, Crane grabbed for her tighter and she managed to shake him off. "What the hell do you know about any of this?"

"I have been fighting for the end of this war since long before you were a twinkle in anyone's eye." Katrina insisted with a toss of her head. "My coven has been enlisted in this war since time out of mind. I spent centuries in Purgatory."

"I know damn well where you have been." Abbie spat. I also know you shoulda stayed where you were and none of this would be happening. You've done nothing but put your husband's life in danger. Happy? Proud of yourself?"

"You should be happy that my sacrifice will put an end to this war. That you can go back to a normal life and have whatever your dreams were before all of this started."

Abbie's hands twitched to hit her, to fall to her old ways of her misspent youth and cold clock the woman in front of her. How could she explain that all of her dreams had changed? That her purpose had given her a direction in life to make a difference. That she had found someone to share that with?

"Abbie," Crane spoke gently. "Abbie, please."

Abbie had shaken her head and took a deep breath. "You come here, out of nowhere and bring Hell with you." Her voice had gained strength as she spoke. "You come here and you want to play the big hero. You caused this," she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "You caused all of this, and now you want to fix it?"

Katrina had raised her chin in defiance, an action that had only served to further irritate the tiny woman. "I came to put an end to the whole thing."

"I got a way to end this." Abbie brought her hand to her weapon. "Why don't I just shoot you now? That'll put a stop to all of this."

"It will not." Katrina asserted. "It will only stave off the inevitable. Ichabod and I returning to our time will keep him alive and keep Moloch from rising."

Abbie had laughed then, as she laughed now in the darkening kitchen. She clutched the bottle closer to her and wished she had made a beer run before she decided to get shit faced. The bottle empty, she banged her head against the cabinet and finally allowed the tears to fall.

He had stopped her, after her rant on Katrina. Crane had grabbed her gun arm and pulled her closer to him. "Abbie, " he said with a shake of his head.

She twisted around again. "How long, " she'd asked. "How long until you put this spell together?"

"We only have 18 hours before the final plague manifests." Crane answered.

She turned back to him, "18 hours?" It had hit her like falling and hitting solid concrete from an impossible height. "You mean this is going to happen, don't you?"

His face was a mask of resolute sorrow. "It has to be."

Abbie had felt her breath hitch in her throat as she spoke. "After the last time, you promised."

Crane had nodded and lowered his gaze. "I did," he said. "But you have to admit that this is a different set of circumstances. Abbie, this is not my choice this time."

"So you are just going to give up." She made a wave of obliteration with both of her hands. "That's it. Finished."

"The Apocalypse will be avoided." He insisted.

That was the final straw. She nodded then, pulled away from the happy couple, grabbed her purse and left.

Now she didn't want to feel anything, and Abbie imagined she never wanted to feel anything again. On her way home she'd called Jenny and informed her that the Crane's would need help outing together some items. "You all right?" Her sister had asked.

"Yeah, just….they're at the archives, and I need to get home."

"You leave the iron on? Why do you need to go home?"

Abbie had hung up on her sister as she pulled into her driveway.

Her phone was still ringing three hours later. It had not stopped. She gave a mental countdown. Fifteen hours until it's over, fifteen hours until the only person other than Jenny that I could rely on is gone.

It felt like Corbin's death all over again. Only worse.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxx

Someone was talking to her, shaking her. She opened her eyes and stared with bleary vision into the face hovering over her.

"You didn't answer your phone." He said.

"Fuck you." She answered and attempted to get up.

"Nice language, Miss Mills." Crane said. "You've been drinking."

She looked at him then, a good hard look as if it were the last time she would ever see him. For all she knew, it would be "Does your wife know where you are?"

"I honestly don't care either way." He admitted helping her to the couch. "And to answer your question, yes she does."

"You left her alone?" she asked.

"I left her in the capable hands of Miss Jenny. They are putting together the spell as we speak."

"My sister the babysitter." Abbie laughed mirthlessly. She stopped suddenly as he sat next to her. "How can you trust her?"

"I don't." he admitted with a nod.

Abbie felt sobriety coming on in waves. "Then how can you do this?"

"I don't have a choice, do you not see that?" he asked taking her hands in his. "I can only trust what I have seen. What we have seen."

Abbie leaned into his shoulder and felt a third wave of tears. "You promised." She said like a small child.

"I did." He said again. "I don't want to leave you, Abbie. I don't want to lose you." He leaned into her then, his lips connecting to hers. The kiss was small but tender. It held so much promise and yet so much sadness. "I have to return to 1781; one year ago I would have been elated. Now, I feel bereft of everything. It feels as if you are being ripped from me. Can you not see how I feel about you? How I have felt about you since the first day?"

She shook her head and pulled away from him. "You don't get to do this." She said wiping fresh tears from her eyes. "You don't get to admit all of this to me 12 hours before you leave."

His eyes were quizzical; disbelief edged them in icy tones of sadness. "Abbie, I love you. Despite everything in my life, the last two years I have done nothing other than fall in love with you."

"Then stay." She asked.

"You know I cannot." He attempted. His hands framed her face and he leaned closer. "You know if I could, if there was any other way, Abbie. I would never leave you."

"You can't do this." Abbie said through shattered tones. "You can't."

She noted his own wet cheeks as he spoke. "What would you have me do, Abbie? I have to leave no matter what. Katrina has seen to that." His long fingers swiped at his own tears. "I curse the day I laid eyes upon her. And yet."

Abbie nodded understanding. "And yet, if not for her we never would have met; never would have gotten to know each other."

He pulled her back to his side. "I did not come here to spend my last moments in this time cursing my wife." He said the last word as if a lemon had accidentally found its way into his mouth. Crane turned his fiery blue eyes upon her and spoke quietly. "I came here to spend them with you."