Chapter Text
When you reached Westview it was early morning. The sun had just come out, and by the time you stepped off the bus and made your way into town, walking alone by the lonely winding road, eyes squinting from the sunlight peeking through the trees, you felt a familiar tug in your bones. The old sign at the edge of town was still there, big, white, faded letters against a scraped teal background, and you passed it in a hurry, quickening your steps in hopes of reaching your destination faster. Though once you did, you didn’t go in at once.
You stood in front of her house, taking in the view. The front door was missing, askew on its hinges and crammed sideways across the doorway, a steady reminder of what happened before you, your mentor, and her so called makeshift coven decided to walk the Witches Road. It was an eventful day, so unlike the one you were having now. You took a step off the cement driveway and opened the latch on the white wooden fence. It didn’t creak, but the paint was stale, and you had to lean against it with your full body to make the hinges budge. The grass was soft beneath your sneakers, a little slippery from the early morning dew. You quietly made your way towards the entrance, and then, with a final, shaky breath of determination, ducked underneath the skewed front door and slipped inside.
The house was silent. Old wooden tiles groaned as you stepped into the hallway, then the living room. It wasn’t very messy, but the air was thick and stale and you went to open the nearest window. All the curtains were drawn, leaving the rooms shrouded in half darkness, streaks of light zig-zagging across the dark television screen, an old bookshelf, the worn patterned couch. You sighed. There was an ache in your lungs from being back here, a house you’d spent so many years in, studying magic and listening to Agatha talk about her chaotic adventures, tease you about everything and then make some witchy herbal tea you always drank with her. You missed it. All of it.
But most of all you missed her.
The Road was a messy adventure, you’d joined her of course, without question, eager to talk with her after the three long years of nothing, and once you made it out--
You wondered if the yard was still strewn with pieces of wreckage from that fight she and Rio had had. You shook you head quickly and set yourself straight. You were here for a reason.
To bring her back.
It took a while, a long, long, long while, but you finally found it. A way, a combination of tricky, long, dreary and demanding spells and enchantments, all ingredients in bringing back a life. Well. Not quite. She was a ghost. All you’d do was get her back into her body, set things straight. Although with her, things rarely seemed to go straight. You sighed, dropped your backpack onto the sofa, and went into the kitchen. After making a black coffee-- you rarely drank it black but there was no milk in the fridge and the cabinets were quite empty, you went into the basement.
Señor Scratchy came hopping into the light from some dim corner, his little nose twitching in recognition. You bent down to pet him, running your fingers through his soft fur. You’d missed him too. You were relieved that he was alright, because after you’d stormed off and left Agatha and Billy to their adventures you wondered for a while if someone had come in to check on the bunny.
“Are the neighbors feeding you well, buddy?” you murmured into the quiet stillness of the room.
He stayed under your hand, whiskers moving curiously, and then pressed his nose against your mug. You realized then that you’d taken one of hers. You hadn’t even noticed.
“I know buddy…” you said softly, “I miss her too.”
You stayed there on the floor, crouched down with him and petting him until your coffee went cold, and then pressed a kiss to his furry head and stood back up again.
You set your mug on her desk, dark mahogany from whatever old century she got it from, and started to go through your books. You opened every needed page, got all the ingredients, luckily her basement still had some herbs and gems stashed away in glass jars, and it took you over fifteen minutes to locate the candles stashed in a wooden crate above the washer and dryer-- you really missed all the enchanted and creepy vibes of the room. It looked so bland like this. Like a normal suburban basement, even though you knew it was everything but. You missed the magic. How many tireless evenings you’d spent in that same room, whining that you couldn’t do the spells, that it was too hard, and Agatha teasing you and sighing and explaining everything from the beginning. After everything was ready, you went up into the backyard.
A soft breeze was blowing, making your hair fall into your eyes and mouth, and you tied it back before pulling out the spellbook. You set it down beside you and looked through the garage. You found a shovel. It was heavy, really heavy, but you managed it just fine. Back in the yard, you stood over the right spot, and started to dig.
The ground wasn’t too hard but it was cold, and you had to put all your strength into pushing the dirt away, slowly piling it into a heap by the side. It took a while. Not like in the movies, where the main character digs up a grave in twenty minutes without breaking a sweat. You were exhausted by the end of the first half hour, and went back inside to finish your coffee. Then you went back at it again. Continued digging. You weren’t in a real hurry, it wouldn’t be a huge problem if you did it tomorrow, but you wanted it to be done today. It was important to you. If it worked. And you really, really hoped it would.
When it was finally done, you took one long look-- at her, and sat back, sweaty and aching.
You inhaled. Took a deep, long breath. And said the words.
Clearly, evenly, a steady, perfect spell. Just like you practiced. Just like Agatha was there beside you, watching your movements and giving you corrections.
You finished the first half.
“Agatha?” you asked into the breeze.
Nothing.
Then--
A whizz of movement from behind you, and her spectral form appeared, just the same as last time you’d seen her. It had been a few weeks.
You felt your throat tighten.
“Well, well.” she drawled, a smirk at her translucent lips. “Look who decided to finally summon me. Are you missing our lessons, dear?”
You looked at her. Took a breath. Nodded faintly. She was doing small talk. You didn’t think you had it in you to follow along.
“Good.” she said, “I’m glad to see at least someone was missing me.”
You looked away.
She watched you, still hovering a few feet away, and then sighed.
“Oh don’t tell me you’re still hung up on me being dead. I’m still here, darling, aren’t I? Still here to annoy you.”
You gave a weak smile. It didn’t reach your eyes.
“It’s not the same as being alive.”
“Yes, well we’ve passed that point. I got used to it, and so should you.”
“You’re still dead.” you said, more harshly than you’d have liked.
She waved a hand.
“No-- don’t do that, don’t pretend like—”
She disappeared. Reappeared behind you, said a soft boo into your ear.
You huffed and swatted at her, and your hand went straight through.
She grinned.
“What’s this now? Did I teach you to resort to violence, student mine?”
You gave her a look.
“Please stop teasing me and focus. I called you over for a reason.”
She tilted her head, and looked around. Her smirk faltered when she saw the body on the grass, her own body. She looked back up.
“Dabbling in necromancy now? I thought we agreed to save that for last.”
“Yeah, well I did some of my own research the past few weeks.”
She spoke with exaggerated emotion. “Oh joy. I’m in such good hands now.”
You closed your eyes.
“Agatha.”
“What?”
“I’m being serious.”
“Oh I can see that.” she said, floating over to look at her body. “You’ve been so busy… How long did it even take you to dig me up, hm? Hours? Days? You’re a bit lacking on the practical side of things.”
You wanted to throw something at her. You knew it wouldn’t work but that didn’t stop you from trying. You hit her with a pebble. It went straight through her robes and bounced off the shovel. She chuckled.
“You’re determined, I’ll give you that.”
“Would you just—” you were slowly losing your patience, “Just stop teasing me and listen. Please.”
She sighted deeply, and finally looked back up at you, expression a little more serious.
“Fine. What was so important that you had to—” she waved a hand around.
You knew she knew, but like yourself she wanted you to say it first. Outloud.
“I’m,” you paused, “we’re gonna bring you back.”
She raised a perfect, silvery brow, arms firmly crossed. “Are we now?”
You nodded. Tried to seem reassuring and firm. “Yes.”
She chuckled. “Great then. Let’s get weaving, I want to get this over with so you can have a piece of mind and I can run away before you get all miserable on me like last time.”
She gave you a pointed look. You swallowed. The last time you’d seen her had been quite a mess. Billy was there, and he had the front row seat to witnessing your tearful meltdown over your mentor being dead and not doing anything to fix it. Not even trying. Not once.
As if she simply didn’t... care.
But as much as that thought hurt, you cared. And you were going to show her.
You picked up the spellbook and lowered yourself on the grass a few feet away from her.
“When I finish reading this part you’re supposed to try and get- get back into—”
She let out a gruff chuckle. “You want me to try and possess my own body? Hun, I know you had some ideas that were out there but that is never going to work. There are rules—”
“I know the rules.” you said, firmer, “And I found the right spells, and if we do it correctly it won’t be-- it’ll be okay. Just trust me. Please. Just try.”
She sighed.
“Fine. But if you start crying when I stay all-- un fantasma after you speak your little part I will leave. If you want lessons you got em’ but I ain’t sticking around as your emotional support spirit guide or some other nonsense.”
You swallowed thickly. Pressed your lips together. Half of you felt how this was going to end. You couldn’t keep from crying if it didn’t work, and you knew it probably wouldn’t. But you had to try. You owed it to her, even if she didn’t believe in you.
“Fine.” you said, opening the book.
She watched you, and for a moment it seemed she was going to say something else, but she stayed silent. Just hovered around the yard, watching you, those blue eyes now even more piercing than before.
You inhaled. Exhaled. And started to read.
One part done. Spell. Movement. A charm. Another spell. Then--
You spoke the final bit of written words in a quick but clear ramble, and finally stopped.
You looked up at her. Gave her the go ahead. Nodded.
She did what you asked, begrudgingly floating over to her body and then sinking down, out of your sight until the tips of her glowing robes disappeared beneath the surface of the ground. You watched. No movement. Her chest wasn’t moving. Nothing stirred. Not a single sound came from her, or yourself. A flicker of magic glowed, flickered briefly, and then died out.
You held your breath, felt it stick in your throat.
“A-agatha?” you called out tentatively. Your voice sounded quiet and unsure in the calm of the afternoon. The sun was low in the sky, hiding behind bright clouds. You felt the anticipation and hope from earlier drain from you, slowly replaced with a hanging dread.
Had you--
What if it went wrong? Had you-- what if you accidentally banished her?
It would mean you’d never see her again, ghost or otherwise, at all, not ever. You felt your throat tighten. Tears pricked at your eyes, your vision slowly blurring.
No.
You hadn’t--
You couldn’t have--
“Agatha.” you said again, a bit louder this time. “Agatha, are you there? Please say something.”
Nothing.
“Agatha!” you yelled.
And still not a single sound. Birds were chirping quietly. The white picket fence gate creaked from the front yard. You felt your chest tighten with panic. Fear. Dread. Guilt. So much guilt. Had you ruined it? All of it?
You didn’t bother stifling the sob that slipped past your lips, a sort of half-whimper, half-plea of her name. You started to cry. The grass was cold and damp against your stained knees, your jeans half-covered in dirt and fresh earth, your face a sweaty mess of exhaustion and tears and loneliness.
You felt desperate. Alone.
So alone.
And then--
A loud, wheezing gasp, startling you so harshly that you literally jumped backwards, scooted with a flinch into the shovel behind you that sent you wincing. You blinked and tried to clear your blurry vision.
Agatha’s body was still in front of you, but it wasn’t just her body, she was--
You watched with wide, teary eyes as she sat up, coughing and spluttering and looking very much like she was ready to hex someone for disturbing her in the midst of a very pleasant, relaxing afternoon.
You blinked.
Watched her take a shuddering unsteady breath, then another one, then another. Your hands felt numb. Tingly. Your fingers moved on their own accord, as if to grasp- to reach for--
“A-agatha?” you managed out.
Silence.
Then-
“That was very unpleasant.”
You stared. Tried to keep in the tears.
She opened her mouth to speak, probably some sarcastic, teasing remark-- you scrambled to your feet so fast you nearly slipped and threw yourself at her in the tightest hug ever, clinging to every part of her you could reach, holding on for dear life.
“What in the—” she spluttered, winded, and tried to shrug you off of her, but you clung tightly. Didn’t let go. Didn’t dare to look up into her face, her finally colourful, alive face.
You kept crying.
Into her shirt. Pressed your head into her chest and inhaled through sobs, feeling the damp smell of freshly dug earth and a faint, very faint but there, whiff of her perfume. It just made you sob harder.
She tried once more to get you off of her but quickly realized it was hopeless and instead rested her arms gently on your back, pulling you a little closer.
You kept crying. “You’re alive—” you sobbed out, “you’re b-back-- please-- Ag—”
She held you tighter against her. Vaguely you felt her chin come to rest on your head, messing up your already disheveled hair and you felt her breath against the top of your head.
Her breath.
She was breathing.
“Alright, hun, I’m here.” she murmured hoarsely.
You couldn’t tell if the cracks in her voice were from held back emotion or being literally dead, but you didn’t care. She was talking to you. She was alive. So alive.
You sniffled against her sweater and felt her grumbling above you, something along the lines of ‘if you get snot on my shirt I swear I will—’ but you didn’t find it in you to care.
She was back.
You had her back.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, sobbing and sniffling and holding onto her like a lifeboat in the midst of stormy sea, but eventually you felt your tears slowly but surely slow.
You looked up. Raised your head just a little. Her face was slightly dirty and pale and she looked rarely fragile for a moment, but her gaze landed on you and she smiled.
Briefly.
You realized there were tears in her eyes too.
You sniffled, and finally spoke, in a shaky, trembling voice. “You’re back.”
“Seems so.” she said, and you could hear she was trying to sound nonchalant, but there was an undertone of genuine emotion in her voice, something thin and bittersweet and maybe long-forgotten.
“You’ll stay this time?” you murmured tearfully.
She nodded. “I will. No more dying for anyone. Not even for you.”
You just hugged her tighter. She huffed, mock-breathless, and muttered, “Easy there, toots, I just came back from the dead, I’m not planning on doing a return trip just yet. I need air now.”
You started crying again.
She sighed, lips tight. “Too soon?”
You nodded against her, your cheek against her chest. You could feel her heart beating, slowly, softly but surely, a steady heartbeat. You smiled.
“I thought I’d never get to hug you again.” you mumbled.
She scoffed, pulling away briskly and dusting off your shoulder.
“Now now, I know you missed me but let’s not get too sentimental here, hun.”
You smiled up at her. You didn’t realize you were still crying but she slowly wiped away the tears from your face with her sleeve, a move that made you want to burrow back into her arms and stay there forever.
“I missed you.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Cause I did. I missed hugging you.”
She looked...pained. Slightly uncomfortable. Like she hadn’t been expecting such a high amount of affection coming her way so soon. But still, you heard her say clearly,
“I... missed you too, pet.”
You smiled brightly. Sniffled. She huffed at your expression and tried to get up but just ended up stumbling back onto the ground.
“Now that I’m here and all I’m gonna need my legs, you know. Can’t float out of this astoundingly very tight hug.”
You didn’t budge.
You felt her sigh, a bit more like herself now already.
“Fine-- fine- see, five minutes go by and this is what I have to deal with? The clinging, the neediness-- what are you, an octopus?”
You chuckled through a stuffy nose.
She swatted the top of your head gently and you giggled at it, still not letting go.
“Alright, now, what do I have to do to get you off of me, huh? Can I bribe you?”
“….no?”
“Thought so. Why do you insist on being so difficult?” but there was no evident bite in her voice, and you could’ve sworn you saw her trying to hide her smile.
She nudged you. Then shoved you a little harder, then finally pulled you off of her while holding your arm and stood up, letting out a reluctant, exasperated sigh when you glued yourself right back to her, arms around her waist.
“Alright, kid, listen, I just rose from the grave—”
“Uh-huh.”
“I should at least shower.”
“Mhm.”
“I’m not taking you in the shower with me, get off.”
“Just one second more, please—”
She groaned but softly wrapped her arms around you.
“You really are something, you know that.”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. It sounded softer than you remembered.
“Yeah.” she echoed quietly, pressing her lips against your hair once more.
You felt the moment stretch.
“Come on, kiddo.” she spoke against your forehead. “Let’s go back inside." her hand found your own, "And I better not find that you made my house into some suburban, dainty—”
Suburban?
You thought about the mug that stood wrapped with a bow in your backpack, the card you'd brought with you, the one you bought and wrote in, and then erased the text five times before settling on the right words.
“It’s just dusty.” you said into her arm.
She huffed.
“I’ll be the judge of that. If I see one single live love laugh quote I’m going back to being a ghost and haunting your ass for all eternity. I’m not kidding.”
You laughed and wiped your eyes, pressed your face back into her sweater with a smile, and let her guide you both inside.