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The end of the road was nothing like they expected.
A field, first, a big one, lush and green and profoundly empty. Then a stream, deep and cool and impossibly blue as the coven - Agatha and Billy and Lilia and Jen - wade through the gentle current. The grass gives way to paving stones, smooth and warm and grey, and they trudge over it, the final steps of the road feeling the hardest, the heaviest, so far, the trials before this moment weighing on them, worse with every footfall.
Eventually a cabin comes into view, and Agatha stops. The others walk a few more paces before noticing her frozen stature, the horror on her face. 'I'm not going in there,' she says. 'You can't make me and anyone who tries can go fuck themselves. I'm not playing along with this sick fucking joke.' She spins on her heel, as if intending to re-walk the road, backwards this time.
Billy's hand on her shoulder stops her, 'what's wrong?' Lilia knows, and Jen knows, too, and the women exchange a glance. Billy catches it. 'What is it? Why is she freaking out?'
Jen hesitates before answering, 'it's Agatha's story to tell.'
'And we just missed storytime for the day. Sorry, kiddos,' Agatha says, shaking herself free of Billy's clasp. The teenager darts around to stand in front of Agatha, between her and the road.
'Agatha,' Lilia calls, and Agatha pauses. 'It's not a trial. It's a prize.'
That makes Agatha turn around, an eyebrow cocked, 'explain.'
Lilia shrugs, 'I don't explain, I only see. It's safe to go in. I swear to you.'
Agatha opens her mouth, closes it, runs her hands over her face, shoves her hands in her pockets, pulls her hands out of her pockets to crack her knuckles, places her hands back in her pockets, licks her lips, scuffs her bare feet against the smooth surface they stand on, and clenches her jaw before marching towards the building.
It's a simple affair. Pine door, brass handle. Thatched roof. Logs, likely the same pine as the door, stacked into walls. Small windows filled with glass panes. An orange warmth glows from the openings, the smell of cherries in the air.
The door swings open when Agatha is within a few metres of it.
'Honey, you're home,' Rio's voice drifts from the room to the left, the living room. Agatha walks the hallway she knows better than anything, the same creak on the same plank of wood that there was hundreds of years ago, her coven trailing behind her.
The room is modest. Minimalist. The same wood that made up the rest of the house, a small grey hearth with a warm fire, a simple tin mirror hanging on the wall above it. There was a plain rug, woven, in purple and green and blue, stretched across the floor, and a large bookcase overflowing with fact and fiction alike.
Rio sits by the fire, emerald crown perched on her head, atop what can only be described as a throne, one made of oak with ivy climbing the ornately carved wood, standing out harshly against the simplicity of the rest of the room. Beside her is a second throne, much plainer, and empty, aside from an amethyst circlet that sits neatly on a cushion.
'What is this?' Agatha asks, feeling the others forming a neat line behind her, barricading the way out, whether they mean to or not.
'What does it look like?' Rio replies, spreading her arms as if displaying the house around her. 'The end of the road.'
'You're going to kill me?' Agatha nods, understanding, accepting, far more than she thought she would be given her propensity for landing in these situations. 'Just leave them out of it. We all made it to the end of the road. They should get their prize.'
Rio gasps in mock outrage, 'kill you? Dearest, I can't believe you would think that of me.' Her eyes flash green in warning, 'I don't kill, you know that. I only collect.'
'Oh, I'm so sorry I forgot your technicalities. So collect me, then, just get it over with,' Agatha says, dismissive of her ex wife's flair for dramatics.
'Still not the plan,' Rio returns.
'Then what is the plan?' Agatha snaps back, 'other than sitting there and being snarky?' Snarky is one way to put it, Agatha decides, looking at the woman she loves without hesitation or regret. She is stunning. Commanding. Sitting on her throne, bathed in the golden glow of the fire, crown gleaming with energy that roils within her. Breathtakingly beautiful to the point it makes Agatha ache, the way Death always is.
Rio ignores Agatha, tearing her eyes from the other woman momentarily to flick her gaze towards the coven behind her, 'can you, like, give us a minute? Few things to resolve here.'
They look hesitant, glancing between the green and purple witch with caution. Agatha weighs up her options, and decides that she would prefer to not have an audience for whatever happens next. 'Guys, across the hall is the kitchen. Make yourselves some tea. I'll holler if she tries to kill me again.' With long, lasting looks from each member, they gradually trickle away, Lilia offering Agatha a hand on her shoulder and waiting for a nod from the younger witch before she files out last.
Agatha claps her hands and turns back to Rio, clapping her hands together, 'okay, so you've got me alone. Now can you tell me what you want with me?'
'I made it to the end of the road, too,' Rio says, 'and like you, I get a prize.'
'Can you just tell me what you want?' Agatha returns, 'I've hit my quota on riddles this week.'
'You.'
'Is that not what I just said?' Agatha throws her hands up in frustration, certain that Rio is being obtuse on purpose, as she so loves to do.
'No,' Rio sounds patient, as if prepared for a lengthy explanation, and Agatha decides that she doesn't want to hear it, but Rio continues before she can interrupt, 'I want to give you a choice, Agatha. A real one. You can pick either option, and that will be your prize.'
'So what's your prize?' Agatha is sick of fishing for information, sick of asking thirty questions for a single answer.
'My prize is I get to give you the choice. My prize is I get to give you two options for your own prize. Either one will satisfy me.'
'So doesn't your prize kind of cancel out my prize? What if I wanted something that neither of your options accounted for?' Agatha asks.
Rio rolls her eyes, before replying dismissively, 'you don't.'
'You don't know that.'
'I know you.' Rio's face is firm, jaw set and brow furrowed, but her eyes are soft.
Agatha caves, 'so what are my choices?'
'To stay or go,' Rio says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. 'Choice one puts you back on the other side, powers intact, ready to terrorize and pillage once more. Choice two keeps you here. With me.' As if on cue, the amethyst circlet gleams, the purple glowing against the black of the cushion.
'And why would I want that?' Agatha asks, as if she doesn't want it more than anything.
Rio tuts at her and stands, slowly, slinking towards Agatha like a cat, until they share their breaths. 'You already know you want it. Stay with me. Come home. Please.'
The please is accidental. Rio hadn't intended to ask nicely, hadn't planned to beg, but it has the desired effect on Agatha, who clears her throat before speaking, 'so, hypothetically, if I were to take you up on that, what would that mean for me?'
Rio had expected this, but not quite so quickly, and can't help the small smile that flits across her lips, 'be my wife... again. Stay here with me. Wear your crown. You can visit the living whenever you want, you just can't stick around for too long.'
'Because I'll burst into flames?' Agatha rolls her eyes and throws up her arms mockingly, unsure, even after all these years, of what actually happens to Rio when she's in one place for too long.
Rio's reply isn't at all what she expects. 'Because I'll miss you.' It's short, it's sweet, it's vulnerable, and Agatha wants to listen.
'What else? Do I need to reap like you? Am I free to come and go?'
'I would never force you to stay anywhere, and I think we both know that I couldn't if I tried. Reaping is part of it, but you won't need to do it that often, maybe a few souls every decade or so. For me it's a job, for you it would be more like a hobby.' Rio explains, her tone far more casual than the situation suggested.
'What makes you think I'll say yes?' Agatha asks, 'why would you even suggest it?'
'Because,' Rio replies, 'you haven't asked me a single question about the other option.'
Rio is right. Agatha hadn't even considered it, hadn't weighted it properly, had decided that there was only one option she was interested in before even thinking up her questions. 'And no tricks this time?'
Rio smirks at that, 'only ones you'll like.'
'Why do you want this now?'
'Look where we are,' Rio explains, 'hundreds of years, thousands of deaths, and you are just as perfect as the day we met. You are remarkable, Agatha. All of this loss, this decay, and you are still here. You might be the witch killer, but you are life itself. The unkillable, untameable, wild, passionate, brilliant life. You balance me in a way that no one, for all the eons I've lived, ever has. If you want to head back, I understand, but please, just think about it. Think about what it would be like to have us back. Life and death in perfect harmony at the end of the road. We have the chance to start over, together. Please take it.'
Agatha pauses. Considers. Speaks. 'So how would I take the option. Assuming I wanted to, obviously.'
'Obviously,' Rio drawls, sounding infuriatingly smug, but Agatha didn't have the heart to even consider tearing that smugness from her face. 'The same way you accepted my last deal. With a kiss.'
Agatha's lips meet Rio's as she finishes her final word, pressing against them. She allows her eyes to slide closed, inhaling the scent of petrichor that follows the green witch, feeling the soft glide of a tongue across her lips and opening her mouth to invite Death in. She grasps for Rio's waist, settling on the warm flesh, perfectly content with her choice, knowing that she could happily spend eternity in this moment, bathed in the warmth of her wife and the glow of the fire.
When she opens her eyes, her arms are empty, and her head feels heavy. The mirror above the fireplace shows her why.
Woven into her hair is the amethyst band. It's not the only change to Agatha. A streak of white hair frames one side of her face. Dark eyeshadow, similar to Rio's, adorns her eyes, and her favourite shade of red languishes on her lips. Her clothing is replaced, no longer the muddy and torn shirt and trousers she arrived in, but a simple cotton dress, similar to one she would have worn back in Salem, in a soft shade of lilac. The streak is the only part that phases her, but she tilts her head this way and that, admiring herself in the small surface, before deciding she can accept it. She also realises that she owes Rio an apology, following centuries of teasing her about how there was no way Death's crown came with makeup.
When she walks to the kitchen, Rio is sat at the table with the others. Agatha tells herself that she couldn't have been looking at her own reflection for that long, but Rio's tea is almost empty, and each of her coven looks content.
'How's it going in here?' Agatha asks, four pairs of eyes flicking towards her. First Jen, then Lilia, Teen.
'Good, it's going good.' Rio tells her, 'so far we have,' she begins to point at the people around the table in turn, 'unbound, unburdened, and we were just discussing the search for brother dearest.'
'All sounds promising,' Agatha comments, taking a seat at the table.
'You look... good.' Billy says, openly studying her.
'Married life suits you,' Jen smiles and offers a wink over her tea.
Lilia squeezes Agatha's hand and Agatha beams back. Rio leans towards her new-old wife and puts an arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to her temple.
'I intend to make her disgustingly happy,' Rio pulls away from her wife long enough to turn to talk to the coven, hoping she's adequately conveying the sincereity in her tone.
'I'll hold you to that,' Lilia replies.
'I would expect no less,' Rio says, levelling her gaze with the seer.
Agatha decides she needs to ask Rio exactly how the whole prize thing works, as she pulls... something... out of seemingly thin air. It's small and green, about the size of a box of matches. Rio presses one end, and a tray slips out containing a folded map. She pops it back in and presses the other end, a beep sound emitting from it. She shuts it again, handing it to the teenager. 'Map and beacon. All you need now is a coven,' she teases, raking her gaze over the three people across the table. Billy pockets it.
'Wanna come?' Billy asks Agatha with a grin.
Agatha hesitates, glancing at Rio, then back to the boy, 'I'll catch you up. Want to settle back into married life first.'
Billy nods his understanding, before Rio claps her hands, 'so... can I show you the way out?'
Agatha snickers quietly at her wife's lack of decorum as the rest of the coven slowly stands, teacups left on the table as Rio ushers them to the back door. Agatha stands to offer her goodbyes, and finds limbs enclosing around her, Jen, Billy, and Lilia pulling her into a fierce embrace, which Agatha fights to extract herself from.
'You need anything, you come see me,' Lilia orders sternly before detaching. She kisses her fingers, and places the fingers on Agatha's cheek. Agatha leans into the warmth, before it's gone, and Lilia leaves through the back door.
Jen hesitates, 'it's been... real. I'm not the person to ask if you need anything, though.' She follows Lilia amid Agatha's chuckle.
Teen is left, and he stares at Agatha, unsure of what to say. Agatha pulls him into another hug, before releasing him. She cups his face in her hands, as if trying to memorise it. 'Good luck, kid,' she tells him, 'I'll see you around.'
He nods before going after the two women. The three of them disappear in an instant, the door swinging closed behind them.
Rio stands before the doorway, a wide grin across her face as she stalks towards Agatha, 'my wife.'
'My wife,' Agatha replies, standing to meet her, reaching for Rio's chin to pull her in for a kiss.
'There's one more thing I need to tell you about,' Rio tells her before Agatha can close the distance between them. Agatha pauses and raises an eyebrow. Rio pulls Agatha's hands from her face, holding them in her own, 'follow me.' Rio leads Agatha down the hallway, and Agatha expects Rio to turn towards their bedroom, only to lead her further, and Agatha realises all at once where they're headed. She stops in her tracks for the second time today.
'Ri,' Agatha says, shaking her head, 'I can't.'
Rio brings Agatha's hands to her lips, kissing them, 'you can, my love.'
Agatha stays still, and so Rio releases one of her hands to use her newly free hand to knock on the door and push it open.
Suddenly, a blur crashes into Agatha, all fuzzy blue clothing and black curls, 'mama! You're home!'
Agatha looks down in shock, seeing her son, her Nicky, short arms wrapped around her waist, head buried in his mama's stomach. Tears spring to her eyes, 'hi, baby.'
'Missed you, mama,' his words are muffled against the fabric of her dress, and she places a hand on his head.
'Missed you, too, angel,' she tells him. She looks to Rio in disbelief, as if she might blink and see her son disappear all over again.
Rio has a watery grin as she catches her wife up, 'he's bound here, at the end of the road,' Rio tells her. 'It was the best place to take him.'
'Mommy knew you'd come home, mama,' Nicholas says with a gap-toothed grin.
'I'll always come home to you, baby,' Agatha replies, a tremor in her voice. 'Mama's sorry she took so long.'
'You're here now, that's what matters,' Rio says, reaching towards her family. Agatha extends an arm, and Rio curls into her side, her hand on Nicky's shoulder.
'Why didn't you tell me?' Agatha asks, 'when I was deciding?'
'Because you would have given up your life in a heartbeat,' Rio murmurs in her ear. 'I couldn't let you do that. You had to make the choice for yourself, not us.'
Agatha places a kiss to the top of Rio's head, 'I love you,' she whispers, her voice cracking with the feeling, 'I love you both so much.'
'I love you, too,' Rio replies, 'my wife, my love, my life.'
The family stay there until time means nothing, until Agatha has no idea how long they've been stood there, until their arms and legs hurt and Nicky squirms from between his mothers and takes Agatha's hands to guide her around her old home, and Agatha decides she would happily stay there forever, with her son and her wife and her heart fuller than it has been in hundreds of years. For the first time in eons, she is happy.