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Mel bolted upright, nearly smacking her head on the bedpost. Her chest heaved rapidly and her partially grown-out bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat, but her heartbeat began to recede once she realized she was safe in her room, not back in the woods with a Kyon chasing her. She glanced at her alarm clock and flopped down with a sigh when she realized it wasn’t even 1 A.M. Dammit, she thought. She had been asleep less than an hour, but it was the most she’d slept since…
Mel shook the thought off and clambered out of bed, tying her hair up and pulling a sweatshirt over her tank top. She’d given up on sleep at this point; she might as well try to be useful, and put some of her anxious energy into work.
After a quick, relatively quiet stop in the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, she wrapped her hands tightly around her favorite travel mug and slid on her sandals over fuzzy socks to make the short two-block trek to SafeSpace.
Seattle was cold and never quiet, not even on the earliest of mornings. Mel burrowed her chin into her hoodie and braced herself against the wind, feeling the tip of her nose grow cold and eventually numb. She would have liked to see more of the city, apart from the deserted lots and run-down food stands that populated her usual route to “work”; however, battling evil didn’t leave much time for tourism. As she walked, a conversation popped into her head, one that made her feel a little warmer even in the frigid night.
“Ah, this’ll do,” remarked Abigael, surveying the spare room. She set one of her trunks down.
“Thank you, O Gracious One,” Mel said sarcastically, setting the case she had been carrying on the floor in front of her and slinging her dish cloth over her shoulder. She had been drying bowls when Abigael had appeared, as if out of smoke (which could have been accurate, but Mel hadn’t seen her arrive, so she couldn’t know for sure), and commandeered her to help with her luggage, which had been sitting in the entry. Abigael chuckled and returned to the doorway to help Mel with the trunk she had been carrying. “Are you ready to live in Seattle?”
“It’s no Paris, but it seems like a lovely little city.” Abi went over to do something to the bed- it seemed like she was inspecting the sheets. Mel wondered briefly what thread count she normally slept on, before telling herself that was a weird thing to think about. “Maybe you could... show me some of your favorite places? I like to be acquainted with the locales I stay in.”
That surprised Mel. Not just because it was halfway nice, but also because it made her realize that she didn’t really have any favorite places. “Honestly, I don’t know a ton about Seattle. I haven’t even been to the Space Needle.”
Abigael glanced up, raising an amused eyebrow. “You’ve lived here for, what, 6 months? And you haven’t visited the Space Needle?” Mel shrugged. “Even better.”
“Why?” asked Mel cautiously.
“Well, this way, when we go exploring, it will be both of our first times. We’ll both be tourists.” Abigael smiled, rare and real, but it was only a shining moment before she returned to her usual snark. “Finally, something you can’t be a know-it-all about!”
Mel snapped the dish cloth at her playfully, and Abigael let out a yelp. “I am not a know-it-all. And who said I want to spend time with you?”
“Lying to yourself twice in two sentences, I envy your power of denial, Angry Spice.” Mel aimed the towel at Abi again, but she spun out of the way gracefully. “How about Monday?”
Mel, knowing there was nothing she could say to discourage her, relented. “Monday sounds great. If we don’t get attacked by demons again.”
Abigael’s little smile wilted. “Hopefully that doesn’t happen.”
“We don’t know if they can track you or not, that’s all,” said Mel apologetically.
Abigael smiled again, but it seemed forced and didn’t reach her eyes. “I see.” She gestured around at her stuff. “I think I’m just fine here. You can go finish the dishes.”
Mel, bewildered, feeling like she had just been dismissed, turned and left.
And the next morning, when Mel had knocked on Abi’s door with a cup of tea as a peace offering, she had been gone, and Mel hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep since. She worried, and it bothered her how much she worried, and the combination of those two things made for nearly two weeks of sleepless nights. Every time she fell into fitful slumber, she was plagued with nightmares about near-death missions and near misses.
Life outside of the little safe spaces Mel and her sisters had curated was incredibly dangerous for a witch, as she had seen, and the thought of Abigael wandering out there, all alone, with the rest of the magical world turned against her, made Mel so anxious that it felt like someone had dropped a barbell into the pit of her stomach. So at night, Mel stared at the ceiling until she gave up on rest and went to the command center to try and puzzle out where she might be.
Mel used her keycard to unlock the door, and the beep resounded throughout the empty, dark building. After checking that no one was inside, she slipped through the doorway and padded back to the switch room, where she knew the entrance to the command center awaited. Her footsteps always sounded louder this early in the morning.
In front of her, the portal board loomed, and Mel started sifting through the stacks of notes on her desk dutifully. Known hideouts of the Faction and the ties Abi had to them, demonic allies from coast to coast, notes on Abigael’s parents and last whereabouts of other possible family members. Mel had built a case file on the life of Abigael Jameson-Caine.
But it didn’t seem she’d need it that night, because she had more pressing matters to attend to- a dot lit up and began to ping on the board, in… Providence? Ew. Could that possibly be Abigael? Mel couldn’t imagine Abigael being caught dead in Providence. Oh, that was a bad choice of words.
But Abigael or not, it was a witch in trouble. And ass-crack of dawn or not, it was Mel’s duty to help them out. So Mel punched in, took the marble, slung her fanny pack over her shoulder, and headed out, ready to fight the forces of evil in socks and sandals.
⚝
Was this what Abigael Jameson-Caine had been reduced to? A fugitive in a bellend of a motel. Couldn’t she have been a fugitive in the Four Seasons? Why did she insist on torturing herself so?
The answers to these questions eluded her as she lay on the bed, silk pajamas against scratchy cotton, staring up at the stained ceiling. Going to the Charmed Ones for help had been a bad idea. The only bad ideas she had were ones driven by emotion, and that one unfortunately was teeming with it.
She couldn’t believe that it almost worked, either. That the Charmed Ones might have almost been alright with her staying with them, making their house into her home. But the emotions reared their ugly head, and Abigael knew she couldn’t stay. The most powerful witches in the magical world, and they made her weak with feelings, regret for what she’d done and longing to fit in with them. Too witchy for the demon world and too demonic for the witches to ever care.
But the Charmed Ones, despite distrusting her, had always tried to help her. Macy, who never wanted to see Abigael as anything less than an enemy, but in the end always let her kind nature get the best of her; Maggie, who was endlessly positive and empathetic and the closest thing Abigael had ever experienced to having a younger sister; and of course there was Mel, the reckless and brash little witch, the first person ever to even try and accept both sides of her, who had a stronger bond with Abigael than either of them would like to admit.
How dare they be so disgustingly good?
So now she was here. In a motel. She wasn’t running, although it may have seemed that way. But seeing her apartment the other day, everything she’d ever known overtaken by other barbarous members of her species, and the abject fear on Mel’s face when they’d heard demons coming for them, she realized something: she was a magnet for trouble, and, for some odd reason, she wanted to do everything in her power to keep the chaos that followed her away from Mel and her sisters.
And honestly, she didn’t know if they cared enough to follow. Hell, maybe they were pleased that she’d left. That’s what she tended to do; she’d pop into their lives when she needed something or they wanted help and then she’d pop right back out again.
Abigael yanked the sheets roughly over her head as her neighbor let out a series of muffled exclamations. Didn’t anyone know how to be quiet anymore? Some people were trying to seethe and marinate in regret.
Suddenly, there was a thunderous crash as the wall exploded. Out of pure instinct, Abigael rolled onto the floor... and burst into flames. Not the most graceful beginning to a fight. The carpet beneath her and the sheets she was wrapped in both began to crackle with heat.
Abigael fought her way through burning cotton, coughing and batting charred strips away from her eyes, only to see a masked man advancing on her. She lashed out, kicking his legs out from under him. The hem of his pants caught on fire and he scrambled away on his ass, yelping, as Abigael leaped to her feet.
Four more Faction members, because surely that’s who they were, stepped through the hole in the wall. Dust from the explosion and smoke from the fire choked the room, and Abigael let out a cough as she backed slowly away.
The leader gave a dismissive look to their underling, who was still scooting around trying to quell his burning pants. Abigael followed their gaze, trying to hide a smile despite the circumstances. “Well, you’ve heard what happens to liars.” She let the flames encasing her body die out.
“Miss Jameson-Caine,” said the leader, unamused. “you will come with us.”
“I don’t think so,” said Abigael, as confidently as one could while wearing burning pajamas.
“No?"
“You heard me.”
The leader palmed their gun. “It’s five to one.”
“Oh, dear.” Abigael feigned surprise. “Wouldn’t you prefer to call for some backup? Because with five more, perhaps it would be a fair fight.”
The Faction members spread into a half circle, and the leader shot a green dart at her. Abigael quickly ducked out of the way, flinging out her arm to the side. Two of the goons in the back yelled as their guns were ripped from their grasps. With her other hand, she summoned a ball of flame, but the fire dissipated against the leader’s chest with a harmless sizzle. What-? They must have had some sort of power-suppressing device, like the cuff but larger.
In her confusion, a goon grabbed her from behind and slapped a cuff on her. She roared, trying to summon her powers, but fire sparked and died on her fingertips, and as much as she willed the plant pot in the corner of the room, it would not rise and smash itself against the leader’s head. Demon powers gone, witch powers gone. Her only weapon left was her tongue, and the time she could buy with it.
“You’ll never win,” she growled. “Why are you coming for me? Don’t you have mustaches to twirl? Puppies to kick?”
“As much I hate to break it to you, Miss Jameson-Caine, you’re not the fish we’re aiming to catch, you’re simply the bait,” said the leader. “We’re looking for the Charmed Ones.”
Abigael stared at them dumbly for a second. Then she snickered, and louder still, until she let out a cackling laugh that made the goons step back a pace each.
“Is something funny?”
Abigael could barely breathe from laughing so hard. “You really think-“ she wheezed. “You really, truly think that I am of any importance to the Charmed Ones?”
“But…” For a second the leader’s cool demeanor was broken. “You’ve worked closely with them in the past….”
“Because they needed something, or I did,” said Abigael, still chuckling. “Oh, you know what I needed?”
“What?”
“That laugh. Best laugh I’ve had in ages. Thank you kindly.” Abigael went to wipe at her eyes, but the goon holding her twisted her arm. “OW. How inconsiderate.”
“It doesn’t matter. You will be the bait,” said the leader.
“How do you not understand this? Do you need to read my lips?” Abigael looked them dead in their mask, and said, as much to them as to herself, “The. Charmed. Ones. Aren’t. Coming.”
WHOOSH! A portal opened up, and Mel tumbled through. There was a moment of shocked silence. Mel and Abigael locked eyes as the Faction watched, dumbfounded.
“Oh, I despise this family,” grumbled Abigael under her breath. Half-pleased that she was wrong, but mostly afraid for Mel’s life and agitated that she would dare come after her, she used the confusion to yank herself away from her captor, and the room sprang back into motion.
Mel opened her mouth to say something, something that was most likely a sarcastic, exasperated quip about having to save Abigael’s sorry ass, something that didn’t matter at that moment because Mel didn’t see the leader raising his gun and Abigael did. So Abigael felt herself do something that never ended well: she let her emotion take over and she leapt .
There was a piercing pain in her ribcage and she fell to the floor, choking in shock and disbelief at herself. She had been hit. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. The poison… it was much stronger than she remembered. But Mel had her. Mel’s arms around her. Mel’s voice in her ear. What was she saying? It didn’t matter just then. Mel was safe. Yes, Mel was safe….
⚝
Mel heaved herself and Abigael through the portal and it sizzled shut just in time. Back in the command center again, Mel staggered up, but Abigael collapsed, eyes rolling back in her head, and Mel dropped back to her knees.
“Stupid demon,” she whispered desperately. “Why did you do that? Why did you take the dart for me?” Abigael gave no response, beginning to convulse. Mel would have made fun of her if she wasn’t more terrified than she’d been in a long time. “HARRY!” She cried, her voice breaking.
Harry orbed in right away, blinking from the sudden light, hair a fluffy mess, in nothing but a robe. “Mel, what-“ He quickly took in the situation; Abigael on the floor, green tendrils beginning to spread from under her charred pajamas; Mel, next to her, tears streaming their way down her cheeks. Mel didn’t cry. But she was now.
“Fix her, please,” she begged.
“Mel, you know what the poison does to me,” said Harry hesitantly. “I don’t know if-“
“She’s going to die if you don’t!”
Harry said nothing more. Mel recognized the look in his eyes, his Whitelighter look. He had sworn to protect her, and Mel had made it clear that that meant protecting Abigael too. He laid his hands on the dying demon-witch and let the light pour out.
Abigael began to thrash harder. Mel reached for her hand, to comfort Abigael or herself, she had no idea, but as they touched, Abigael’s hand turned into smoke and passed right through. Mel let out a squeak of terror. Was it going to work? Did the poison spreading faster mean it would be more deadly? Had she just killed Harry and Abigael?
And then, the poison began to recede. Abigael’s movements slowed. Green veins spread up Harry’s face and he gasped in pain, but then they, too, faded. He slumped over, and Abigael stopped moving all together. Hesitantly, Mel touched Harry’s shoulder, and he sat up, shaking his head.
“Did it work?” said Harry. Mel nodded silently. “She’ll need to rest to let the poison leave her system. She will probably wake up in five hours or so.” Abigael looked peaceful, as if this whole ordeal had been nothing but a dream for her. She let out a soft snore, and Mel finally exhaled a breath she had been holding for what felt like forever.
“D’you think you could get us back to the house?” asked Mel. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she was beginning to feel something she hadn’t felt in a while: exhaustion. She was tired right down to her core. And now that Abigael was safe, Mel wanted nothing more than to take a leaf out of her book and pass out.
“I can try.” Harry disappeared, then reappeared shakily. “My powers appear to be working for now. Perhaps I’ve built up a tolerance to the poison.”
Mel took his hand and rested her other hand on Abigael’s shoulder, and they orbed into the foyer of Vera-Vaughn Manor.
Macy and Maggie rushed in, equally as disheveled as Harry had been. Maggie had a thousand questions in her eyes, and Macy looked like she was about to say all of them aloud with a healthy side helping of curse words, and not the magical kind, but when they saw Abigael on the floor and their sister’s tear-stained face, they put two and two together and moved silently to help Mel and Harry carry the snoozing demon-witch upstairs.
“What happened?” Macy finally asked as they set Abigael in Mel’s bed. Mel pulled the covers up to Abigael’s chin and tucked them around her.
“She’d been captured by the Faction when I got there,” said Mel. She felt emotion bubble up in her chest again, an acidic mix of worry, exasperation, anger, and relief. “I think she was bait for me, or maybe all of us. They shot one of those darts at me when I came through the portal, but she… she stepped in front of it.”
“Abi? Doing something that didn’t directly benefit her?” Macy said, surprised. “You don’t hear that every day.”
“Next time, bring us, okay?” said Maggie, resting a hand on Mel’s shoulder. Mel leaned into her touch. Despite being younger and more chaotic, Maggie had this calming gravitas that always reminded Mel that she was home with her. “I don’t care what time of night it is. We all go down together. Or, at least, you know, in the buddy system.” Macy and Harry nodded in agreement.
“Thanks, guys.” Mel smiled shakily. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Can we come back to this in the morning?”
“I agree,” Harry said. “Family meeting in a few hours over some libations. I’ll be on breakfast duty.” Mel slipped off her sweatshirt and shoes and climbed into bed next to Abigael, and her sisters and Whitelighter seemed to take the hint.
Abigael, still asleep, rolled over and rested her chin on Mel’s shoulder. Ordinarily, Mel would have shoved her away, but she was just so tired she didn’t even care. So Mel leaned into her, grateful that Abi was still there to snore noisily into her ear, and let herself drift off.
⚝
When Mel came to, sunlight was just beginning to filter through the cracks in her blinds. It had probably only been five hours or so, but Mel felt better and more rested than she had in weeks. Abigael was still asleep, curled against her shoulder, pale and sick-looking, but alive and smiling peacefully. Her arm had made its way around Mel’s waist in the night. Mel felt her stomach flutter.
She gently pushed Abigael away and sat up, stretching. Just then, she heard a quiet knock on the door, and Maggie peeked in, Harry and then Macy’s heads popping up over hers like a totem pole.
“I’m up,” said Mel. Her family members took this as a cue to come in. Macy sat on the end of the bed, and Maggie collapsed onto it next to Mel and buried her face in Mel’s chest.
“Mellllllll,” she whined, muffled. “Harry woke us up at 6 with his breakfast noises. Tell him that some people like to get up after the sun rises.”
“It seems Abigael isn’t the only one still asleep,” joked Harry. Maggie flipped him off and let out a loud, exaggerated fake snore.
Mel wrapped an arm around her little sister and squeezed her. “Did someone say breakfast?” She was about to go hunting for some coffee and one of Harry’s delicious scones when Abigael shot directly upright with a gasp and a yelp, and Maggie rolled off the bed in fear.
“Where have you taken me?” she demanded. She took in her surroundings with confusion, but when her eyes focused on Mel, she relaxed. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?” asked Mel.
Abigael flexed her fingers. “I think so.”
Mel felt all her relief drain away. Now that Abigael was awake, she felt a new emotion rising to the surface, a Mel special: rage. She wanted to smack Abigael, and in fact she did, across her arm.
“Ow! What-“
Mel interrupted her. “I can’t believe you! I can't believe you would just take off without any warning, only to end up in a war zone!”
“Mel, chill,” said Maggie from the floor. “She literally just took a bullet for you.”
Mel ignored her. The cocktail of feelings she was letting out had been simmering since Abigael left her, and like hell was she going to bottle it up anymore. “You know, one day we're not gonna be there to rescue you every time you throw yourself into danger."
Abigael tossed her hair, which would have been more intimidating if her bedhead wasn’t sticking out in every direction. “While I do appreciate the assist, I suggest you cool off just a tad. Isn't that supposed to be your specialty?"
“I- I- ugh!” There was so much she wanted to say, too much for her to say without saying something she would end up regretting. Mel stood up with a huff, and stomped out. Why did she even try?
When her sisters and Harry came downstairs, Mel was angrily shoving pieces of scone into her mouth.
"She hasn't even put anything on it," said Harry. "Wide berth, ladies, she could be dangerous."
“Which body part of Abi’s are you imagining that is?” joked Maggie.
“Please don’t answer that,” said Macy.
“She’s just so infuriating sometimes,” Mel said through a mouthful of crumbles and coffee. “I have every right to be mad at her.”
“You did kind of go off at her, like, directly after she almost died for you,” said Maggie. Macy and Mel both glared at her. Harry stood haplessly in the corner. “What? It’s true!”
“She’s being reckless! She went into a fight with no backup, with no one knowing where she was,” argued Mel.
“That sounds like someone else I know.” Maggie crossed her arms.
Macy winced. “She has you there.”
“That’s completely different!” Mel threw down her scone, like it had personally offended her.
“Why does her putting herself in danger bother you so much?” said Macy. “It’s not like you care about her.”
Maggie stared at Macy in disbelief. “You’re kidding,”
“What?”
“Okay, sure, she made a stalker folder about Abigael because she hates her guts, Macy,” said Maggie sarcastically. “She tracked her across the continent because she couldn’t care less. That makes perfect sense.”
Macy seemed like she was about to respond, but then Abigael padded downstairs. She had apparently raided Mel’s dresser and was wearing Mel’s favorite sweatpants and one of her old concert tees. The sweatpants only came down to her ankles. It was like she was trying to annoy Mel by looking as cute and harmless as possible.
Harry went to sit down and eat, but Maggie grabbed both him and Macy by the back of their shirts and yanked them out of the kitchen, to vehement protests.
Abigael picked up a scone and began to poke at it with a knife full of clotted cream. Mel stubbornly refused to make eye contact with her, and she poured herself some tea and pulled up a chair. She could feel Abigael’s eyes on her as she chewed.
Eventually Abigael broke the silence. “So, are you going to tell me why you were so cross with me before? Or should I just start throwing poison darts at my handy overreaction board?" She mimed aiming a dart. “What have I hit today? Oh yes, ‘Abigael ate the last biscuit. Refuse to talk to her for three hours’.” She looked at Mel to see if she would at least chuckle, but Mel wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Abigael let out a huff. “I’m never good enough for you, am I, Melanie? That’s why you react to every small thing I do as if I strangled your cat.”
Mel snapped at that. "I'm NOT overreacting. And this isn’t some small thing like eating the last cookie. I just can't believe you would take advantage of our hospitality and then leave without any warning. It's like…. common courtesy, or something.”
Abigael laughed bitterly. "You're one to talk about courtesy...
Mel stood up so quickly that her chair screeched from under her and hit the wall behind her. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Abigael stood up as well, planting her hands on her hips. Her eyes glimmered with some unidentifiable emotion. "It means that I took the target on my back far, far away from you and the other two Musketeers and you're not even showing me a crumb of gratitude."
So that was why she’d left. Mel thought back to their conversation, the way her face had dropped when Mel had mentioned they didn’t know if demons could track her or not. "Abi, look, I- I never asked for that.”
“You implied it.” Abigael’s brow furrowed. “Me and your family may have had differences in the past, but I would never put you in harm’s way for selfish reasons.”
“I didn't ask for you to protect me, and I didn't ask you to leave! I wanted you to stay here,” Mel blurted out. “We could have protected you. Why would you ever do something that reckless?"
Abigael’s eyes softened, and like a flood, the fight left Mel. She could be hard to read sometimes, a force of nature, a woman of terrifying strength and power, but Mel’s dad had once told her that even the most skilled poker players had a tell. And Abigael’s tell was her eyes; no matter what she said or did, what she tried to repress, her eyes always told the truth. “I think you know why,” Abigael exhaled, so softly that it was hard to make out.
It was so silent for a moment Mel swore she could hear Abigael’s heartbeat. Abigael’s eyes drifted down to her lips. Suddenly every word, every small gesture, every call and text, every day spent together, every “this isn’t because I like you” and stupid nickname and loaded glance made perfect sense.
Before she could stop herself, Mel’s hands were on Abigael’s face, thumbs on her frustratingly high cheekbones and she was pulling her in, and every feeling they had ever tried to hide or shove down came pouring out as their lips touched.
Abigael hesitantly brought a hand to Mel’s waist, inviting her closer. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’ll never run away from you again.
Mel gave in, feeling their foreheads touch, Abigael gripping her shirt, and their bodies fitting against each other like puzzle pieces. I forgive you. I need you.
The words she had avoided speaking for so long came out again, whispered against Abigael’s lips.
“I want you to stay.”
Abigael pulled back. Her eyes searched Mel’s, wide and questioning. She was scared, Mel saw it there, but she saw tenderness there too, longing and relief and gratitude and joy, and she knew Abigael wasn’t going to run anymore.
“I will,” she breathed.
“As long as you want me, I will.”