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Nicholas Scratch

Nicholas Scratch was born during a blood moon. Something his mom found hilarious, his mama, who had labored for hours during the day and into the night, had not found it as amusing. Though, she had been unable to deny the irony of Death’s son being born on a night where the veil between the living and the dead was thinnest.

However, blood moons weren’t the only time the veil was thin. His moms always made sure he knew the dates and holidays and celestial events tied to such occasions. At first, he hadn’t understood their insistence upon this particular knowledge, but as he grew older and began to feel the draw of the dead he appreciated their foresight. It turned out being the son of Death meant more than just a title.

“ El Día de Muertos is a much better holiday. We should be celebrating that, not Samhain.”

Mama laughed at mom’s grumbling, “We’ll be sure to next year, cariño . But Samhain is important as well.” Nick grinned as she ran her fingers through his hair before Death saved him from her fussing by placing him firmly on her shoulders, causing mama to roll her eyes fondly. “I suppose that means you’re ready, mi cielo .”

“Yep!” Nick couldn’t help but swing his legs in excitement until mom grabbed his kicking feet to hold his swaying form steady. “Derry, Northern Ireland, here we come.”

“More like the woods outside of Derry, but close enough.” Mom confirms, shoulders shaking with laughter. Then with a step and a slight twist the world blurred around them. Nick had been magically teleporting since before he could remember so the disorientation was easy to shake off as the darkened green forest came into view.

Fireflies shifted through the trees as they trekked steadily over the moss and leaf covered ground. The damp earthy smell and slight rocking of his mom’s gait lulled Nicholas into an almost trance-like state as he took in the starlit sky and ancient trees.

“Mom, are will-o’-wisps real?” He whispered, reluctant to disturb the forest around them.

“Of a sort,” She whispered back, before pointing ahead of them. “Look.” And sure enough, in a path leading deeper into the woods around them, floating little blue balls of light danced through the air playfully.

“It was the Scottish that designed the original spell.” His mama explained softly and Nick couldn’t help but lay his head atop his mom’s as he watched his mama smile up at him as she continued. “But over the years the spell was adopted to guide witches to gatherings or to lead them to safety. It’s a rather ingenious work of magic, as it can only be seen by witches or those with witch blood. I’ll teach it to you later.” And the promise had Nick grinning right back. If there was one thing he loved it was learning about magic with his moms, even if he did have to be careful to never aim anything at mama.

They continued on further until eventually a clearing came into view. At first glance it seemed empty, but when Nicky tilted his head just so he could see the faint glimmering of souls hidden behind a spell. His mom squeezed his legs warningly, she could always tell when he reached for the magic he shared with Death. But before he could question the need for concealment, the reason stepped from the shadows in front of them.

Two Protection witches stood before them, staffs planted firmly in the ground, until they spoke as one. “State your names, are you witches? And are you threats or guests?” 

Mama smiled at them before gesturing to herself and then mom and him. “I am Agnes Vidal, this is my wife Rio, and our son Nicholas–”

He rushed to finish for her, a mischievous grin on his face. “Nicholas Scratch.” The welcoming witches blinked, but took no further notice of anything strange and once the pleasantries and confirmation of magic were complete, they gestured for them to continue on into the meadow.

Stepping through the magical screen protecting the clearing, Nicholas took in the bonfires surrounded by witches and children alike and he couldn’t help but giggle as the Protection witches didn’t spare them a second glance. They would walk away and maybe talk of the two witches but the second they would think to mention him, it would be very difficult to remember him. And should they remember, it would be impossible to speak his name. For his name wasn’t a name but a spell placed upon his soul.

Scratch.

Servar, contego, renovo, abscondo, tolero cuncta horae.

To protect, shield, restore, conceal, and maintain for all time.

Mama had been quite proud of the modified protection spell she created. Mom had snickered and said it was a fancy sigil, a comment that earned her a night on the couch. Apparently, Mama really hated sigils, saying they were crude, amateurish, sloppy work and she didn’t do sloppy.

Mama and mom laughed with him as mom hoisted him off her shoulders to set him back on the ground. “It might be that you enjoy the confusion your name causes just a tad too much.”

“I come by it honestly.” He states innocently, causing mom to laugh harder and tousle his hair.

“That you most certainly do.”

He grins up at them, but before he can ask to join the other children in their play, multiple silver shimmerings catch his attention. “Woah… those are–” 

“Ghosts,” Mom grimaces with a sigh. “I hate ghosts.”

“What are they? Why are they here?”

It’s mama’s turn to sigh. “They’re spirits of those who refuse to pass on, that even after Death has taken their souls to the thereafter they find their way back because they cannot let go. It is a sad existence.” Nick can’t help but grip his moms hands as his mama continued. “Samhain isn’t just about celebrating our heritage or welcoming the darker half of the year, it’s about helping the ghosts who linger to move on.”

“Does it work?” Nicky questions, tilting his head towards Death allowing him to see the sadness painted upon his mom’s face.

“Sometimes, mi cielo . But sometimes, they’re not ready to move on even with our help.” Mom squeezes his hand gently. “They have to choose to let go, only then can they move on.”

It’s not long after that his moms let him run to play with the other children. And he introduces himself, knowing none of them will remember his name and no one there can know that Agnes Vidal is really Agatha Harkness. He doesn’t mind. His name protects him and the only people he needed in this world were his moms. Though, it was fun to play tag and hide ‘n seek with other children instead of just his familiar Ebony.

Occasionally his mom would bring him something to eat or drink and his mama would follow closely behind to wipe the dirt off his clothes knowing full well it would just be replaced within minutes. But he never complained and sometimes he would seek them out. Purposefully leading the game of tag in their direction, running between their legs to force them apart, and they would separate with bright eyes and swollen lips, laughter echoing in the air, before chasing all of them around the many bonfires in retaliation. Causing dozens of children to squeal in excitement of the chase. 

They would always catch him. Mom lifting him into the air while mama attacked his sensitive sides, resulting in his giggled pleas for mercy to ring through the trees. It would end with them planting kisses on his cheeks and declaring, “Well maybe next time you shouldn’t lead your coven into mischief.” He’d be set back down and within thirty minutes the whole process would repeat.

He even managed to convince a small ghost child to join them, careful to ensure no one could see that he was actually able to touch the incorporeal form. After a couple of games, she had stopped and thanked him before fading from view. But he was able to see her spirit make its way to Death. The proud look his mom had directed his way at helping her move on had given him a burst of energy that lasted through the hour.

By the time midnight drew near, Nick was covered in dirt, more than ready for bed all while his face and sides felt sore from how much he was smiling and laughing. When his mama bent to pick him up there was no resistance from him and Nicholas willingly snuggled into her embrace as the final ceremony of the celebration took place. Latin was chanted around the fires and soon sparks filled the air. The moon glowed brighter. The trees moved though no breeze stirred the air and it was as if the stars themselves descended into the space around them.

“This is what it means to be a witch, Nicky.” Mama whispered as she pulled him closer. “Yes, there’s power and spells and potions, but this, this is what it’s all about.” Nick blinked in awe at the beauty around them. “Witchcraft is about knowing nature, knowing the push and pull of the tides, knowing when the leaves turn colors and why, knowing the stars in the sky and their constellations, knowing the passing of time and the wisdom of the past. It’s about knowing fire and all its destructive capabilities but also knowing what grows in the aftermath of its ashes.”

His mom’s hand rubbed his back as she continued where mama had stopped. “Being a witch is about connecting so deeply with life, that death is just another phase of the cycle.” Mom pressed a kiss to his head as his exhaustion pulled him into sleep, surrounded by magic and his mothers’ love, her words filling his mind as he faded from consciousness. “Being a witch is living so that when Death comes, you welcome it with open arms, because I am inevitable but how you greet me is up to you.”

It wouldn’t be until a year later that Nicholas understood what his moms meant about being a witch, about choosing to let go. It wouldn’t be until his mama was sobbing over his form that he understood the draw to stay. The need to tell her that this dried, decaying form wasn’t her fault. But he knew that if he stayed trapped here, she would never forgive herself for it. The thing about ghosts was that it wasn’t just themselves they kept frozen in time, it was the people they left behind who suffered as well. So, when Death came for him, despite the tears in her eyes and the screams of his mother, he greeted her with open arms.

Nicholas Scratch was born during a blood moon, the son of Death found it fitting that he died during one as well.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Billy Maximoff

Billy Maximoff remembers coming into existence. 

He thinks he had been at peace. Then something evil came searching for his soul, and it stole him from his peace. It stole him and let him wander, lost in the world with no way back to that peace he had been pulled from. Then he felt it. A cry. A desperate plea for something to come into existence. He doesn’t know how, but he knew what the witch wanted could not be given to her without two souls willing to enter her spell. At first, he had been content to go back to wandering, searching for his peace, but then a soul, filled with love and a desire for the witch to not be alone, answered the call. 

And then all she needed was one more soul. But still he hesitated. Then he felt it, a spark of purple buried beneath darkness, but still there and before he knew what that spark meant, he was being drawn into the spell. Billy thinks he might have known more before being born once more, but the spell had rearranged who he was and who he had been was not so clear anymore.

That’s not to say it was a bad thing.

He enjoyed his days with his twin, Tommy, and knew he was loved by his mom and dad. He liked playing with Sparky, even if the dog wasn’t real, and he wanted for nothing. Billy even developed powers and abilities like his mom. Something that sent a thrill of excitement through every part of him. Even though he tried to ignore how familiar it felt buzzing under his skin, or how loud everyone’s minds were, or how his hands would spark blue and he would frown because his magic wasn’t supposed to be blue, was it? Never mind the fact that it was an ability, not magic, or the fact that of course it’s supposed to be blue, what other color would it be?

Despite the moments of confusion, Billy wanted nothing more out of his life than to spend his days with his family. And because of that, he tended to avoid mirrors. But sometimes it was impossible to avoid his reflection, and every time, his eyes would turn blue with power, and that quiet voice in his mind would grow louder. His image would waver until his hair grew darker, curlier, and he couldn’t help but reach out. Hand touching whatever reflective surface had caught his attention, as if he could reach the blue eyed boy trapped inside, as if he could rid himself of the instincts and urges and flashes of memories that weren’t his.

“Billy?” His mom’s voice forced Billy out of his mind and into the present. Jerking his eyes away from the kitchen window, Billy turned to face her.

“Mama,” He sounded breathless to his own ears, but when his mom tilted her head and gave him a confused smile, he had to wonder if maybe he spoke in another language. He’s not sure what language it would be but something told him he knew more than just English. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, you’ve never called me that before.” She grins, her green eyes crinkling, despite her confusion. “Are you ready to go?”

Shaking off his own confusion, Billy grins in excitement and takes off into the living room to jump on his dad’s back as Tommy runs circles around them.

“Let's go!” Tommy exclaims in excitement. “Picnic in the town square, games, food, free space to run. Let’s hop to it!”

Laughing at Tommy’s energy, their dad grabs Billy’s twin and hoists him up, carrying both of them out of the house. “I agree, lads, let’s hop to it.” Gentle laughter follows them down the driveway, until their dad sets them down and together the four of them make their way to the relatively empty town square with the grass and gazebo unoccupied.

Billy doesn’t question it, like so much else that happens within the town, his mom probably made it so they would have the perfect day. And Billy wanted to have a perfect day. So, he pushed the concern for the townspeople to the back of his mind and set off across the grass with Tommy in a game of catch.

It wasn’t until several rounds of toss and playing chase with their parents that Billy and Tommy began to fight over a toy nerf gun which led to quite the argument.

“You’re such a know-it-all, why can’t you just be normal!”

“Well, I wish I had a different brother!”

“Boys,” Their mom’s stern voice calms them from their argument and they shuffled sheepishly. “We’re family. And family is forever. No petty squabble over a toy is going to ruin the bond you two have as brothers. So work this out.”

“She’s right, chaps.” Dad’s voice is slightly amused, and he ruffles their hair encouragingly. “Our family is made of sterner stuff. It’ll take more than a disagreement to tear us apart.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy apologized. “I don’t wish I had a different brother, even when you’re being annoying. You can play with it first if you want.”

Tommy laughed at his backward apology before nudging him. “It’s alright, you’ll always be my brother too, even if you are a big nerd. How about neither of us play with it and we toss the frisbee instead?”

“Sounds good to me.” Billy grinned and the argument was forgotten.

They spent all afternoon eating and playing in the town square, until Billy felt like he would collapse from exhaustion and even Tommy was tired. It was then that Agnes came by with umbrellas and not long after that the skies opened their floodgates and a storm encouraged them all home. Agnes walked with them, sharing her covering and fussing over the entire Maximoff family as if something as common as a cold would take them out. But Billy didn’t complain, he liked Agnes, and so did the boy in his head.

Unlike everyone else in Westview, she was quiet. He tried once, to read her, to find out why there were no thoughts he could reach. Why when everyone else was silently screaming, Agnes was just silent. He had almost broken through her shields, but before he could make that final push there had been something in his way. Something dark and cold and evil , festering under the surface of her mind. Billy could see it. In his mind’s eye. A book. And that book could see him. It reached for him, whispering about secrets and power. Curling around his mind with sweet poison. ‘Why shouldn’t everyone else do as your mother says? Why shouldn’t they bend to your will? You’re better than them. More powerful than they could ever imagine. I could make you even more so. I could even make you real .’

Billy shuddered, bile rising in the back of his throat as the other boy in his mind cried out. A part of Billy wanted to draw closer, to touch the power the book was promising him. But that boy in his mind did not, he threw himself against Billy’s thoughts, screaming for them to pull away, crying out for help. And then Billy felt her. Felt her mind curl around his tenderly, felt her shield his mind from the book, and gently, oh so gently, push his thoughts away from her own. Only then did the boy quiet, growing dormant and sleepy within Billy’s mind with her power surrounding them in safety.

It was then that Billy knew he would be safe with Agnes. Safe and protected. But he was wrong. In the end, it had been her fighting his mother in the sky. It had been her who ripped their world apart. And even when they won, it was because of her that they had really only lost. 

And through it all, that boy in his head was screaming to be heard.

Yet, at the end of the day, Tommy laid in his bed, asleep, unaware of the world closing in on them, but Billy couldn’t sleep, couldn’t force his eyes to stay closed. Whoever Tommy had been before becoming Billy’s brother, that person was almost gone, warped beyond recognition until all that remained was the son of Wanda Maximoff. Billy wishes he was that lucky. 

Whoever he had been before being Billy refused to disappear completely, he lingered, pushing against his mind and making himself known. The boy he used to be must have been something special if he could resist the power of the Scarlet Witch. Almost as if the boy’s power held a part of something old, something inevitable .

Throwing his covers off, Billy crept past his sleeping brother and slipped from their room. From the top of the stairs he heard his mom speaking, tears evident in her voice. “...You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.” And suddenly, Billy was so unbelievably angry and hurt and scared . Turning from the stairs, he rushed to the nearest window. Opening the glass plane and climbing down the tree outside, Billy ran from the house.

The enclosing hex grew closer, drawing ever near, and Billy felt tears fall from his eyes, blinding him as he moved towards the familiar house next to his own. He didn’t knock. He didn’t give any warning. Barging through the front door, magic curling around his hands, Billy demanded for what remained of his mother’s world to give him what he wanted.

And there she was. Looking out the window, observing the red walls of magic bearing down on them. His entrance made her turn and Billy’s skin crawled. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes, her eyes screamed.

“Well, hiya, ángel . What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” The voice was fake, it wasn’t real, just like him, just like this world. But there was something that poked through his mother’s spell, something of the witch behind the nosy neighbor that refused to be pushed down. Something about the accent curling around the word ‘ ángel ’ that made Billy’s chin tremble and that quiet voice inside his mind cry as it tried to reach out.

Unable to help himself, Billy did what that presence in his mind demanded of him. Shaking, he stumbled and almost fell as he moved towards her, the waring instincts in his mind battling between drawing closer and running away. But before he could truly fall, or make up his mind, or figure out who was in control, she was there. Catching him as his limbs spasmed against his will.

But she didn’t just catch him. No. As his body betrayed him and his mind tore itself apart, she cradled him, brought him closer and held him against her. As if he was something special, as if he was real .

Tears wet her shoulder as sobs burst from his shaking form. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” But despite his words, he clung to her as she held him, rocking his body gently. “Why did you have to tear us apart? Why couldn’t you have left us alone?”

“It’s not in my nature, kiddo.” Her response fit the part of the nosy neighbor, but Billy felt there was some truth that applied to the witch as well.

“I’m scared.” He confesses, unsure if it was his own courage driving him to admit it or the boy’s. Arms tighten around him and her hand cups the back of his head, fingers carding through his hair soothingly. Then her mind was reaching for his, tentatively, weakly, barely a brush against his own as she strains against the spell upon her to reach him. ‘Death isn’t something you need to fear, sweet boy. She’s always been gentle with kids.’ And the pure reflective longing and regret echoing in her mind makes Billy think that maybe, just maybe his mother was cruel. Cruel to trap someone in a fake life when they so desperately longed for death.

“Will I even be dying?” He shudders, tears pooling once more. “I’m not real.” Her arms tightened around him. ‘No one does what you and your brother can do without having some part of you being real. I’m sorry I didn’t see that sooner.’ It was comforting to hear but at the same time it caused anger to bubble up beneath the sadness.

“That means you’re the reason my dad, my brother, and I are all dying. I’ll never forgive you for that.” But despite Billy’s words and anger, the boy within him refused to let go of the embrace. ‘You wouldn’t be the first. It’s okay, I’m good at playing the villain. Just be careful not to let that anger fester. You push it down too much and it’s all you’ll become. A being of spite and hate. It’s not something you want to be.’  

Her knowing tone relaxed something in Billy, he wishes it hadn’t. Because anger was so much easier to feel than fear. “I–” He swallows hard, but can’t force himself to say anything else as grief for a life he couldn’t live tore him apart from within. ‘I know.’ Oddly, both Billy and the boy believed her. She did know, she understood.

‘Sleep, it’ll be over before you know it.’ Her soft tone and rocking, make her command easy to follow, drawing Billy’s heavy eyes closed as both his thoughts and the boy’s became a blessed quiet purr. By then the collapsing hex was already pulling his consciousness and physical form apart at the seams. Distantly, as his body dissolved, Billy felt something malevolent and dark reach for him, trying to draw him back to where he had been before being Billy. But then there was a spark of purple, the last drops of a witch’s magic, wrapping around him and forcing that darkness away. Allowing the boy to sleep in safety and Billy to fade at peace.

Billy Maximoff remembers coming into existence, but all he remembers of his death is the arms holding him together and the mind hiding him from the evil searching for his soul.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

William Kaplan

William Kaplan had been born sickly.

Tetralogy of Fallot, a critical congenital condition made up of four separate heart defects. Eventually, he had gone through enough surgeries, received enough blood, and taken enough medication that he was able to live a somewhat normal life. He would occasionally feel short of breath, have difficulty breathing, and experience weakness but it was something he learned to live with. William had been born sickly, but he didn’t want to make him being sick his whole identity. That being said, every birthday that passed felt like an accomplishment. So he understood why his parents decided to make a big deal of his thirteenth.

They weren’t the most devoted or well practiced Jews but when approaching his thirteenth birthday, they insisted on a bar mitzvah. Though the tradition of it all wasn’t really his style, William didn’t protest. He knew the real reason they were hosting the celebration was because many didn’t believe he would live long enough to turn thirteen.

The whole thing was almost too much. But William thought he looked great in his suit, Henry and Richard made sure he was never bored as only little brothers can do, and the food was amazing. More than that, William appreciated the family and friends that came to celebrate his thirteen years of fighting. The gifts and the wine they let him taste were also pretty great.

But his favorite part of it all had to be the speeches the men in his life gave to him, his father’s most of all.

Jeff Kaplan wasn’t what you would call a soft man, but he knew what his priorities were, family being the top of the list, and he stood by them. Always.

“As a cardiologist and a father, it’s hard to hear that your newborn child has not one, not two, not three, but four heart defects. It’s hard to know the statistics that say survival is likely but to constantly fear for the worse. Because this is my baby boy,” His dad swallowed hard, blinking rapidly before clearing his throat. “And anything that hurts them seems like the end of the world. My son was born blue, but the second he grabbed my finger and I felt the strength of his little hand, I knew that my boy was a fighter.” His dad nods to emphasis the declaration and raises his glass. “Today, my fighter turns thirteen. Today, he takes the first steps into manhood and I could not be prouder or more excited to see the kind of man he becomes. I love you son.”

William is not ashamed to admit he teared up and maybe even cried a little when his dad hugged him. The rest of the speeches went similarly until it came time for the Torah reading. William had already sung his part in the Synagogue, but a local Rabbi had insisted on reading extra sections as a blessing to ensure William’s fight continued. Which William didn’t really care for but was willing to sit through as long as it didn’t take too long. Unfortunately, it did take long. 

It was only when the Rabbi had reached the fifth Torah reading that his dad leaned over to whisper, “If you want to fake a coughing fit, we can have an excuse to get out of here and grab some ice cream.” His dad’s suggestion is met with an exasperated look from his mom, pleading pouts from his brothers, and dry, overdramatic coughs from him.

They made it out of there in record time with well wishes from everyone and ice cream on the mind. It was a fond memory, one filled with laughter and love and the bonds of family.

He was thirteen, he was on his way to manhood. His parents loved him, his little brothers were annoying but he wouldn’t trade them for anything, and he knew no matter what his family would be by his side. Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.

Weeks after his bar mitzvah, his mom was picking him up from the skatepark and William had been embarrassingly telling her about the cute boy who showed him a new trick and didn’t tease him whenever he got short of breath. Rebecca Kaplan was nothing if not efficient at getting to the point, as a psychologist she had to be, so it was only after five minutes of him talking about Eddie that she asked if William was going to ask him out.

“Mom!”

“What! It’s obvious you like the boy. It wouldn’t hurt to spend more time with him to get to know him better.” His mom said it like it was easy, and William couldn’t help but laugh at her support.

“Maybe I will then–” William cut himself off as a red barrier blazed into existence to their left as flashes of light blazed in the sky. “What is that?” Looking back, he’ll wish he hadn’t said those words. Hadn’t spoken the words that pulled his mom’s attention from the road and to the anomaly in the distance. But in the moment it was all he could think to say. And then there was a horn and lights in their eyes and his voice calling out, “Mom! Look out!”

The cars hit with startling force, sending their sedan spinning off the road until a wheel caught the asphalt causing their car to flip and roll down the hill beside the road, only coming to a stop by crashing into a tree.

White hot pain raced through William’s system from glass cuts and wounds caused by bent and broken metal piercing his body. Subconsciously, he pulled himself from the wreckage and dragged himself across the ground as blood filled his lungs and it became increasingly difficult to breathe.

William Kaplan survived until he was thirteen, only to lay dying from a car crash. Gasping for air as the damages to his body took their toll. The glowing wall that had distracted his mother in the first place was receding, shrinking until barely any remained, as if it had caused the damage it needed to before disappearing. 

William’s vision darkened. His mother’s cries of his name fading to the back of his mind. His pain was no longer all consuming, and every one of his blinks became longer. Then there was a cool hand against his cheek. Struggling, William opened his eyes, and while everything else around him was blurred, the hooded form in front of him wasn’t. The sharp outline of their dark cloak stood out against the fading background. 

The figure’s thumb brushed the tears from his cheek and she spoke. “It’s okay, you can let go.”

“Mom…” He gasped. “...mom?”

“She’s okay, it’s not her time yet.” Her reassurance comforted him, though he knew his death would weigh heavily on his mom’s mind. But he didn’t have it in him to fight, and with each soothing stroke of the cloaked woman’s thumb he felt himself being drawn away.

Then, with a sharp inhale, the woman withdrew from him. The loss of contact made him whine but she didn’t move closer at his distress. Instead, she stood rigid and stared almost as if in astonishment at something he couldn’t see. There was a flash of something red and purple and dark before William felt his body seize. He heard a faint, “It looks like it’s not your time either.” And with a blink, she was gone, her parting “ Te veo .” echoing in his mind as everything faded to black.

William Kaplan survived the car crash that should have killed him, but something else had been born that day as well.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Teen

He doesn’t know the first time he truly realized he wasn’t alone within his own mind anymore.

To be fair, William had been more concerned with the fact that most of his injuries from the car crash had been written off as superficial and that his heart was completely healed with no evidence of him ever having Tetralogy of Fallot. So, he had been a little too distracted with his physical health to pay much attention to how his mind felt… crowded.

And sure, occasionally he would know things he had no memory of learning. (Who learns a list of properties for plants ?) Or habitually turn over in the morning looking for something as if expecting someone else to be in his room. (He’s never shared his room in his entire life.) Or have unexplainable anger outbursts for no reason. (His mom was a psychologist, he knew how to manage emotions.)

So, yes, there were signs but most of them he just thought might be puberty. How was he supposed to know his first thought should have been spirit possession? It wasn’t until his first Spanish class that it became glaringly obvious something was different with him.

“ Señor. Kaplan, ¿estás escuchando? ” His teacher's attention brought only panic and William frantically struggled to mentally translate the foreign words. But before he could embarrass himself, William felt a nudge from the back of his mind and all the sudden, he wasn’t the one piloting his body.

“ Disculpas, señora. Solo estaba distraído. ” The second the words were out of his mouth, William snapped back into the pilot seat, gripping his desk to prevent himself from being sick. The teacher blinked in surprise before smiling and turning back to her lesson. All the while, William struggled to remember how to breathe properly.

A hand pressed against his back, “Man,” Eddie’s awed voice filled his ears. “Since when can you speak Spanish?” 

The question went unanswered as William was left asking himself the same thing.

It wasn’t until he was home and locked inside his room that William was able to sit on the floor and turn his attention inward.

‘Hello?’ He sat for about a minute before he laughed to himself. Of course no one was going to answer, why would anyone answer–

‘Hi.’ William can admit the noise he made carried the sound of neither his age or gender. ‘What the fuck, what the fuck, you… you’re a person?’ There was a beat then a quiet, amused, ‘Huh, I guess I am.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m B̶̳͚̩͐̊ỉ̶͉͍͔l̴͉̪̃l̵̻̘̭̈̆y̶̼̯̾͌ ̴̫̖̫̏́̓M̴̡̻͎̏a̶̢̹̖͆x̸̞̓͊i̶͕͇̟͋̾m̵̫̝̫̂̈́̄ơ̷̡̤͆f̸̡͌͐͛͜.’

‘Woah.’

‘What?’

‘ I have absolutely no idea what you just said. It was like a jumbled mess and I couldn’t make out the words.’ Before the voice could respond, William asked the question on his mind. ‘Can you speak Spanish?’

‘Oh, no that wasn’t me, that was the other boy.’

‘Other boy?’

‘Yeah, he’s quieter. That’s kind of my fault, I think. But he’s been louder since we joined with you.’

‘Do you know his name?’ But before anything else could be said or asked, a gentle voice reached William and the louder presence.

‘I’m Ṅ̴̲̅į̴̦̑͑͒ͅc̷͎͐̓ẖ̶̡͖̎͂o̸͙̚l̵̛̲̎̍á̵͎̜s̸̯̒͑̌ ̷̟̹̐S̷̥̗̮̊̔͂c̴͈̑̍r̷̝̀a̶͖̓̔͘t̶͕̦͆̚͘ć̷͓̪̄͋h̴̼̄̐.’ The quiet declaration was met with a silence that lasted only a couple seconds. ‘Okay… I get what you mean about the jumbled mess.’

‘Yeah, we need to figure this out because there’s no way I’m calling you guys voice #1 and voice #2.’

‘...Would I be voice #1?’ Despite his best efforts, William couldn’t help but laugh at the question. There was a faint giggle in his mind before the third boy spoke up.

‘How about for now you call me Joven . And let's call the other one Viejo .’

‘Hey!’

‘Young and Old? Sounds good to me.’

‘Why am I the old one?’

‘Would you rather us be Alto and Tranquilo?'

‘...I feel very attacked right now. Fine, I can be old.’

‘Sounds good, Viejo. Do either of you know how this happened?’

‘Nope.’

‘ Sorry, no.’  

‘ Lovely.’ William sighed before the red blur of a car’s tail lights caught his attention through his bedroom window. ‘Actually, guys. I think I know where to start.’

‘Then let’s–’

“–Get to it.”

Researching the Westview anomaly became less of a passtime and more like an obsession for them. But the more he dug into what happened to the town the closer he felt they were to answers. And his mind fellows were quite helpful too. Sure some information they tried to share was merely a jumbled mess but they came in clutch when studying for tests. Turns out Joven had a knack for nature and history. Viejo was pretty good at English and math too. Unfortunately, the more William interacted with the minds fussed to his own, the more they melded together.

As time passed, it became easier for Viejo and occasionally Joven to take control. And with that control came the bleeding of emotions into one another’s psyche. He would wake up some days longing for a brother he couldn’t remember despite Henry and Richard being right there or would feel unbelievably alone and wish for a mother he couldn’t name. Despite that, and the random anger issues, William tried to keep it together, tried to make it seem like nothing had changed for him, but just when he was feeling as though a rhythm had been formed between their minds he was hit with yet another life shattering realization.

He could read minds, and move things without touching them, and he doesn’t even know what else. Viejo had apologized for the abilities, apparently it was something he was able to do in his lifetime. When William had jokingly and fearfully questioned Joven if there were any abilities from him they needed to know about, they received the concerning reply, ‘...Just let me know if you start seeing dead people. Also, it’s magic, not abilities.’

Because of course it was magic. Magic which was the clue that led them right to Agatha Harkness. Agatha Harkness which drew very different reactions from his two mind mates. William decided not to question them, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear what they said anyways and promptly became obsessed with the so-called coven-less witch. Obviously, there were gaps in his research about her, but from what he was able to tell, this woman was not messing around.

And suddenly the path forward became clear. They would find Agatha Harkness, get her to take them on the Witches Road, and then get their answers about who and what they were.

———————————————————

Finding her turned out to not be that hard. Freeing her however was a very concerning experience and William can say with certainty he never wants to be kidnapped by a mind-trapped witch ever again.

Also, side note: ask Joven why seeing the scary lady fight Agatha made him try to simultaneously cover both their eyes and ears. Very confusing, slightly concerning.

But all of it would be worth it, it had to be.

———————————————————

“Who are you?” Her question caused Joven to forcefully push them out of the driver's seat in his rush to answer.

“My name is Ṅ̴̲̅į̴̦̑͑͒ͅc̷͎͐̓ẖ̶̡͖̎͂o̸͙̚l̵̛̲̎̍á̵͎̜s̸̯̒͑̌ ̷̟̹̐S̷̥̗̮̊̔͂c̴͈̑̍r̷̝̀a̶͖̓̔͘t̶͕̦͆̚͘ć̷͓̪̄͋h̴̼̄̐.” William couldn’t help but mentally smack at Joven. ‘What was that?’ His response sounded desperate. ‘Maybe she can hear our names.’ 

“Say again?”

‘I don’t think she heard.’

‘Let me try.’

“I’m B̶̳͚̩͐̊ỉ̶͉͍͔l̴͉̪̃l̵̻̘̭̈̆y̶̼̯̾͌ ̴̫̖̫̏́̓M̴̡̻͎̏a̶̢̹̖͆x̸̞̓͊i̶͕͇̟͋̾m̵̫̝̫̂̈́̄ơ̷̡̤͆f̸̡͌͐͛͜f̵̣͍̍.”

“Huh.” 

‘You think she heard either of those names?’

‘Yeah, I don’t think so.’ And it felt like Joven very much wanted to cry because of that.

———————————————————

But they made it to the Road and that’s all that mattered. Though, apparently the use of a sigil made Joven feel the need to bang his head on the metaphorical walls of their mind.

———————————————————

“Did you know she traded her own son for the book of the damned?”

William could barely stutter out a reply due to the amount of rage he felt rolling off Joven in Jen’s direction for her accusation. Which was a new development but they’d work through it.

———————————————————

Then Sharon Davis was dying and something dark and angry within them rose to the surface. Before any of them realized what was happening, Sharon wasn’t breathing and they were left reeling. Forcing Joven to ask the very concerning question. ‘What if it’s not just us three in here?’

———————————————————

Summoning a Green Witch. Zero out of Ten, William would not recommend. But while William and Viejo were busy screaming their asses off, Joven was laughing. Joven, the apparent psycho, felt safe. Joven, who Viejo and William realized was becoming louder and more present with every step they took down the Road.

———————————————————

‘Can we all agree that when a curse is coming right at us, we move?!’

‘I was trying, it was like I wasn’t in control.’

‘Well, I wasn’t in control.’

‘Neither was I.’

No one had anything to say after that.

———————————————————

Nicholas Scratch.

‘Say it!’ 

‘Why can’t–’ William came to the realization faster, Joven couldn’t say it because he was… ‘You?’  

‘Yes!’ And Joven – no, Nicholas– was grabbing Viejo and dragging him to the back of their mind. ‘William! Say it!’

“Nicholas Scratch!” And with those words whatever spell had been holding Nick back was released.

———————————————————

“You’re so much like your mother.” Suddenly, just like with Nick, William could feel the binds holding Viejo loosened until it was very clear that Viejo was Billy Maximoff.

‘Finally.’ William could hear Nicholas screaming for them to stop, but neither of them was in control. And despite Billy’s lingering anger towards Agatha, his panicked thoughts showed that it wasn’t him in control either. And the three could only watch in horror as one by one three members of their coven sank beneath the mud and mire beside the road, leaving them alone.

Except he wasn’t alone, not within his mind. Because he wasn’t just Teen. He was William Kaplan, he was Billy Maximoff, he was Nicholas Scratch, and maybe, just maybe he was something much darker.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Wiccan

Turning from the sight of their betrayal, Teen’s thoughts seethed as Billy and Nicholas and William clawed at his mind trying to regain control of their body.

‘Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!’

For once, they listen but not because of him. And he found himself frozen. 

Rio stands before him. Her dark eyes boring into his. Unconsciously, Teen’s hand twitches nervously, blue sparks fluttering into existence at his fingertips. Rio glances to his magic before looking up her head tilting unnaturally as she slowly smiles. Chills ran down Teen’s back, something about the Green Witch had always put him on edge, but now, now it was as if some ancient instinct had awakened and was screaming for him to run, to hide, to bow before this creature before him.

William and Billy were shouting at him to retreat but Nicholas… Nick was silent. The quietest Teen had ever heard him before, but it wasn’t because of fear, Teen couldn’t feel any fear from him. No, all the fear Teen was experiencing was William’s and Billy’s and that weakened him.

“You want to know something funny about Wanda Maximoff?” The name makes Teen shudder, memories pressing against his many minds, but Rio pays him no mind. “She possessed the book of the damned for a couple measly years and became overcome by madness, destroying universes, killing countless people, and nearly unraveling the Multiverse.” Her grin gets wider, gaining a manic edge. “Agatha owned it for decades, and yet…” Her arms spread wide, knife dangling dangerously from her fingers, as if to encompass everything Agatha hadn’t destroyed. “But no one ever talks about that.”

William swallowed hard, Billy wincing away from the truth thrown in his face even as Teen sets his jaw, desperately trying to stay in control. “Alice and Sharon, they’re dead because of Agatha.”

“Maybe, but what about Jen and Lilia? What about them?” Rio’s question forces Teen back, allowing William and Billy to claw their way back to the surface. “As far as I’m concerned, you and Agatha have the same body count on this Road.”

“I… that was an accident. I… I didn’t mean to. Agatha just… it’s her fault, all of this is her fault.” The boys wouldn’t have been able to tell you who said what.

Either way, Rio hummed before examining them carefully, as if drawing out the souls cramped into the body one by one.

“The first time I ever laid eyes on Agatha, she was four years old. Her mother ,” Venom dripped from the word. “Had almost beaten her to death.” William, now firmly in control, inhaled sharply at the information. “I’m sure Evanora would say the whole thing had been Agatha’s fault too.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Billy’s question slipped from William’s lips.

“Because Agatha always had a soft spot for kids. She always believed they could be better than their parents, she had too, because she refused to be anything like her mother.” 

“You’re so much like your mother.” They flinched.

“You want to walk this path alone, okay. But at least be mature enough to take responsibility for your actions instead of blaming someone else.” Rio raises an eyebrow at them. “There are only three of you in there. I may not be able to tell who exactly is who but I can tell you there’s only three.” The confidence she speaks with shakes them to the core, and Rio shrugs. “I’ll see all of you at the end, one way or another.” And with that, Rio opens her arms and falls back, landing in the mud along the road, allowing it to consume her. Leaving him alone. But he wasn’t really alone, was he? He never was.

‘Okay, real talk time.’  

‘If that was us…’ 

‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say there’s a lot of unresolved tension regarding Agatha within all of us.’

‘Do we have to do the whole therapist thing.’

‘Yes.’   William and Nick’s overlapping voices echo in their minds.

‘Woah.’

‘ So when more than one of us agree with something,’

‘It becomes a stronger force.’ They process the information for a second before Nick sighs. ‘She didn’t mean to, but I’m dead because my mama couldn’t control her siphoning ability… I guess I could still hold some anger for having to leave this plane of existence. I accepted it once but since being forced back here, it’s been harder to let go of.’

‘I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you speak.’

‘Billy.’

‘Fine, it’s because of her my twin brother and dad are dead. My mom also got the darkhold from her, and we all know how that ended so…’

‘William?’

‘Her fight with Wanda is what caused the car crash that almost killed me and got me stuck with you two.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s… well, it’s not okay, but I’m working on it.’ There’s a pause. ‘What now?’

‘She used her abilities without meaning too. She siphoned Alice and then we came charging out and instead of that famous Agatha bravado, she backed away, hands up defensively. Like…’ Nick’s nausea was shared with them all. ‘Like she was bracing for a blow.’

Rio’s words come back to them all, echoing through their minds on repeat.“She was four years old… I’m sure Evanora would say the whole thing had been Agatha’s fault too.”

‘Even her trial.’

‘What about her trial?’

‘Do you think… Do you think maybe Agatha believes she deserves to be punished?’

Standing there, letting the realization sink in, William stated what they were all thinking with varying degrees of horror. ‘There’s nothing we have done to her, that would hurt her more than she’s hurting herself.’ In that moment, all three of them release the resentment they held towards Agatha and take a breath. Doing so settled something in them, made their minds fit against each other that much better.

There was still plenty to discuss, like their shared desire to be a part of a coven and not a familiar. Or their mixed want for power and answers and for someone to just care for them. But they were one step closer to becoming more than just three people shoved in a body. One step closer to becoming who they were always meant to be. And it started with taking responsibility. They messed up. Yes, they didn’t mean to. They didn’t know that having three minds wanting one thing would completely destroy their self-control, but it had been them. And now that they knew, they could do better.

Starting with getting the others out of the mud. Maybe he could… Turning the bend in Road, Teen could only blink at the gagging forms of Jen and Lilia as Agatha stretches against a tree and Rio watches in amusement. At seeing Teen, Agatha flings her muddied coat to the side and faces them.

“Well, now that you’ve gotten that temper tantrum out of the way, are you ready to actually talk or should I give you a moment more?”

And despite his best efforts Teen couldn’t help but smile at the pure Agatha response. Yeah, he thinks they’ll be okay.