Chapter Text
Okay, kids. We're gonna start this story at the end of another one. Why? Well, most importantly, because it's mine and I'll do what I want, but also because the point is that this stuff's all cyclical. You learn that after a few hundred years of watching humans do the same terrible and wonderful things over and over again while somehow never actually learning the point.
Now. Sit.
"Oh. Great. A touching reunion. If I had a physical body, I'd be vomiting by now."
Agatha floated, somewhat stationary, in the darkness of an abandoned warehouse as she watched Billy and Tommy embrace amid the wreckage. Dust settled over both the overturned machinery and the two brothers. Whatever battle had raged here was over. Won by the forces of good… and not so good.
Billy's shoulders shook as he whispered something into Tommy's ear that elicited a laugh. Pure joy filled the air around them, and, in at least this corner of the world, life was uncomplicated and whole again.
Agatha flickered with irritation. Or possibly something else completely.
"Right. I'll just see myself out."
She passed through the warehouse wall, emerging into a parking lot where light rain had left the asphalt gleaming. Storm clouds were breaking apart, exposing patches of star-drunk sky as a full moon pushed through the dissipating gray, casting everything in a sheen of silver.
So, Billy had his brother back.
Would he still want a centuries-old spirit lingering in the periphery of his life? Agatha had played mentor and protector to him throughout their journey together, but that was all posturing, wasn't it? More performances in an endless repertoire.
As if on cue from some deeper part of an ironic universe, the winds changed.
She felt it before she heard it: that very particular disturbance in the texture of the world that meant someone both familiar and annoying was near.
"Well, well, well. I suppose death becomes you, Agatha. You're practically an Avenger at this point."
Agatha rolled her eyes with theatrical precision right in Rio's direction. Why did she always have to ruin the quiet moments?
"Please. As if I'd ever hang out with those nerds. I may be dead, but I still have standards."
Rio's laugh came from the shadows, dry and short.
But damn, she looked good in that Deathly Hallows getup.
"Or maybe you have nothing left to lose?" She paused, tilting her head as if to look at Agatha from another angle. "And in that freedom, you discovered something resembling a conscience? Those insidious Darkhold urges sure did crumble fast once you were free from its influence."
God, Agatha hated it when she was right. Sadly, it happened a lot because cosmic beings were classic know-it-alls. Also, total freaks in the bedroom, but that wasn't the most pressing matter at hand.
"You know me too well to believe that," she scoffed, though all evidence was certainly pointing to the contrary. "Now, scram. You're interrupting my descent back into villainy. Surely someone's out in the world contemplating a dramatic rooftop leap to their death. Go give them the push they need to accomplish their goals."
Keeping her confident composure, Rio again moved toward Agatha. Her approach was that of a wrangler, finally coming upon a wild horse they'd been desperate to tame.
As if that had ever worked.
"Sadly, I have a more pressing matter to attend to." She moved just close enough that Agatha could feel the gravitational pull of Death itself. "You know you can't stay here forever, Agatha. I don't like spirits roaming around and-"
"Giving up the ghost?" Agatha couldn't help herself with that one. "What? Upper management doesn't want the little humans to know they've always been connected to something bigger than this mortal coil?"
She was treading in uncharted territory on purpose. Agatha didn't have a clue as to what 'upper management' might actually mean, but she did know that Rio answered to some...thing. Maybe she'd tip her hand.
"You've certainly tried to avoid it long enough." Rio kept her response evasive, which tracked, given she knew all of Agatha's tricks by now. "Must be afraid of something."
It was a dare as much as it was a statement of truth.
And it caused that ridiculous ego Agatha somehow refused to shed, even in death, to blaze to life.
"I'm not afraid of you and your precious little realm." Agatha's eyes narrowed.
That one was a straight-up lie more than it was a bluff. If she truly hadn't feared the afterlife, she'd have followed Nicholas into whatever existed in the beyond a long time ago. Her understanding of magic's darker currents heralded caution. If something like the Darkhold could exist, what catastrophic evil might lurk in realms beyond death?
"Keep telling yourself that," Rio hesitated, and her jaw tensed before something unspoken played across her face.
It was as if she were arguing with herself over how much to reveal, but the determination in her gaze suggested her evasive side won out.
"You know I have to take you, Agatha. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Agatha couldn't help letting loose a cackle in response.
"And when have I ever made anything easy for you?"
When Rio's countenance eased into memory written on her face, Agatha felt the past wash over her in a powerful wave. The crack in Death's armor revealed something profoundly familiar underneath.
The beginning. Everything had been easy in the beginning.
Back then, Agatha knew nothing about nothing. And Rio knew the love of someone who saw more in her than endings. The tragedy was in the aftermath: for though the seeds of those moments had been pure and strong, the fruit had turned to rot before harvest.
"That was a long time ago," she remarked with neither malice nor nostalgia.
She made her face go blank, desperate to sever the thread of memory before it could pull her under. Rio had an infuriating ability to slip beneath her skin with her never-ending belief in the bond they shared. As much as Agatha had fought hard over the years to destroy it, it still resonated within her nonexistent heart.
And Rio knew it too. That was probably why she seemed so comfortable closing the distance between them.
"You have no idea how long…" Rio said before brushing her words against Agatha's ear. "My love."
The endearment hit harder than Agatha would have ever admitted, capturing her attention for a brief moment before she became aware of the trap in which she found herself. Without warning, Rio's right hand wrapped around the apparition of Agatha's left as Death's obsidian dagger stabbed through their mirrored palms.
"Ow!" Searing pain ignited through Agatha's consciousness, sharp and real despite her ghostly state. "What the hell are you doing?"
Green smoke spiraled upward from the wound, circling around them as winds whipped from nowhere. Rio's smile was soft and satisfied, the look of a hunter who'd finally cornered her prey.
"You little shit." Agatha's eyes locked onto Rio's as darkness devoured the warehouse.
Everything dissolved into a stillness so complete it felt like drowning.
The world went black, as did the lilting consciousness she'd only just gotten used to in her post-life form. Was this it? Was this really the end? Surely it couldn't be that simple.
Agatha woke with dirt against her cheek, along with the shocking weight of skin, bone, and all the rest of the important parts. Her body… it was there. Solid, warm, and breathing. Hell, even her clothes were back! A familiar long coat draped around her like fallen wings, purple lining caught dim light over a white blouse and tailored pants.
She pushed herself upright and brushed leaves off her coat. They were too symmetrical and too colorful, arranged like a child's drawing of autumn.
Trees lined up in precise formation, their spacing too deliberate. No forest had ever grown this way. This was architecture disguised as nature, and it was very fucking familiar.
"Oh, this is just rich." She climbed to her feet, flicking cartoonishly perfect leaves from her coat with theatrical disgust. "Look, I know we had a moment on The Road, but you really didn't have to go through all of this trouble for a little reminiscent role play."
She motioned toward the saccharine-sweet perfection surrounding them, tilting her head.
"Plus, this is just a little too Disney for me. You sure you don't want to relive our Amsterdam days?"
Sheathing her dagger, Rio allowed a furtive smile to grow on her lips. A flash of old tenderness crossed her face before her tongue swept the inside of her cheek: a gesture that sent heat twisting through Agatha's newly corporeal form.
"While I wouldn't mind a repeat of that particular performance, you've got some walking to do." She reached out, plucking one final leaf from Agatha's shoulder. "And you didn't do a lot of that in Amsterdam."
Agatha's smile was pure wickedness as she leaned in close enough to smell Rio's skin.
"Neither did you."
Pulling back, her attention focused on the trail ahead. The mist had grown heavy between the trees. She didn't want to walk into it. This was what she'd endured countless lonely years trying to avoid. Not death itself, but what came after. And the debilitating possibility that Nicholas wouldn't be waiting on the other side.
"I thought we agreed that after I died I'd never see your face again."
Agatha crossed her arms, jaw raised in defiance. Stalling had always been one of her specialties; why stop now?
But Rio approached with steady steps, hands clasped behind her back like a professor delivering unwelcome news.
"Oh, that deal was only satisfied if you let me kill Billy boy." She stopped beside Agatha, both of them facing the path ahead. "And you knew that when you kissed me."
Rio's head turned as she admired Agatha's profile, but Agatha kept her eyes forward. She was pissed she hadn't gotten off on a technicality there, and she almost said so, but then Rio decided to fire a shot across her bow.
"You've always been a romantic beneath all that brat," Rio teased, testing her limits.
"Shut up."
Limits found.
Agatha started to spiral as she looked around the fake forest, searching for escape routes she knew didn't exist. Her fingers slithered at her sides, reaching for a power she could no longer access.
Time was running out.
It had run out the second their lips had last met.
Rio appeared to let the moment breathe, steadying herself with a slow inhale before Agatha felt a gentle caress against her sleeve.
"Agatha, this isn't a punishment."
The softness in her voice was genuine. But Agatha jerked away immediately and wiped her sleeve as if it might also wipe away Rio's comfort. She didn't want any of this. But wanting and receiving were two different things.
"Ugh, spare me."
Taking several steps forward, away from Rio's touch and toward the waiting mist, her posture straightened as she gathered what remained of her courage.
"Fine. Let's go."
And, with that, the two of them marched ever forward down The Road.