"Daphne, you need to wake up," someone whispered in her ear. Daphne's eyelids fluttered. Something pressed on her mind, something bad, and she felt that waking up would let it in. She fought the wave of consciousness and won, slipping back into murky ignorance.

"No she doesn't," a different, lower voice replied. "She doesn't need to see this."

Daphne felt her body being lifted up off the ground. She felt her limp form being supported by someone else.

"You're right," the first voice agreed. Sabine? Daphne could feel the warm, familiar weight of her arms around her waist. "We can go to my place. They won't think to look for us there. I'll call a car." Daphne felt Sabine's arms leave her, replaced by another set. Sturdy and strong, it must be Rhode.

"Hey, girl, you sleep now. It'll all be okay," she said soothingly.

"A car will be here in five minutes to pick us up," said Sabine. "I think we should go outside before she sees this. That poor cat..."

Cat? Daphne's eyes struggled to open. When they finally did, she wished she had kept them closed.

She stood in her apartment, or more accurately, the ruins of her apartment. The comfortable couch and rag rugs had been ripped to shreds, pieces of their fabrics littering the ground like shrapnel. Smashed pottery and dirt coated everything. Scattered here and there were the tiny, uprooted forms of Daphne's beloved succulents. But worst of all was the limp, furry form in the middle of the room. The kitten Daphne had risked her life to rescue lay dead on the floor.

The memories of what had happened were unavoidable now. She sank to her knees as she forced herself to accept reality.

Rhode cursed. "Hey, blondie, she's awake."

Sabine rushed over to Daphne immediately. "Daphne, look at me. We're getting out of here now."

Daphne merely covered her face. She wished she hadn't woken up.

"Car's here," said Rhode as she craned her head to look out of the freshly cracked window. "You okay to leave, girl?" she asked Daphne in her rough-but-comforting voice.

"Yes please," Daphne whispered. Her voice sounded like she was talking around a throatful of pebbles.

"Then let's go." She allowed herself to be carried out of the apartment and down the flight of stairs and into the street.

"Is your friend... okay?" the driver asked as Sabine and Rhode helped Daphne into the car.

"She's fine, just a little tipsy," said Rhode.

"Tipsy?" The driver gave a nervous chuckle. "It's eleven in the morning."

"What's your point?"

The driver didn't reply.

Daphne stared vaguely out the window, watching street signs and buildings go by through unfocused eyes. She felt as shocked as she had when she thought her mother had betrayed her, as lost as she had when she was locked up in that horrible cell, as scared as she had when she thought she would lose her two best friends... but now there was an unsettling numbness that left her unable to panic, or plan, or even cry. It was like her brain was on a fuzzy, static-filled loop, keeping her thoughts focused only on how nice it would be to stop existing.

"We're here," said Sabine. Her tense voice broke Daphne out of her daze. Her eyes refocused on unfamiliar, well-kept streets. It hadn't seemed like a long ride, but she felt very far from home. "Keep the change," said Sabine, tossing the driver a handful of bills.

"Wow, thanks!" he said, surprised but grateful. "Hey, I hope your friend feels better."

"So do I," muttered Sabine, already helping Daphne out of the car. "Rhode, can you—"

"I got you," Rhode replied, taking hold of Daphne's other arm. She felt like an accident victim, or maybe a doll, being carried limply by her friends, and she didn't like it. She pushed them away.

"I'm fine," she said. By her friends' faces, they weren't convinced. "Well, I can walk, at least." And she did, leading the way up the porch steps. The other two followed behind her cautiously.

Sabine unlocked the door with a small set of keys from her pocket and said, "I think we should be safe. No one would think to look for us here."

"You mean in a mansion?" asked Rhode, throwing herself down on one of the suede couches that circled a huge flat screen TV. A gas fireplace flickered to life when Sabine turned on the lights. "Damn, girl, why didn't you tell me you were rich earlier?"

"I'm not rich, and besides, it didn't matter," she said dismissively. "The only thing that matters right now is Daphne." Sabine turned to her and gently placed a hand on her arm. "Is there anything I can do? Do you want anything to eat?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

She pressed her lips together. "Well, I know hot tea always makes me feel better. And a bath. Come on," she said, leading Daphne up a curving staircase.

"I don't really take baths," Daphne protested quietly.

"Well, you should. They're relaxing. Here." Sabine opened a door to reveal a spacious bathroom with stone floors and a huge, oval tub set into a wall. Well-used candles littered its edge, their hardened wax forming a white pool around them. Sabine noticed her staring and shrugged. "What? It makes bath time seem more special." She rummaged around in a cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out a stack of fluffy blue towels, a lighter, and a bottle of bubble bath. She handed the lighter to Daphne. "Just try the candles. It's like you're at a spa," she said, and turned on the tap as she slowly poured in bubble bath. Sweet-smelling steam filled the air.

Daphne clumsily lit the candles. She wasn't used to using anything but her wand to make fire, and the plastic grip of the lighter felt unfriendly in her hand. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"It's not a problem," said Sabine lightly.

"Really, Sabine, I—"

Sabine suddenly flung herself into Daphne's arms. Her hands were wet and covered in bubbly foam from testing the water. They wrapped snugly around her middle while Sabine buried her face in her shoulder. "Daphne," she said, her voice muffled. "Please just let me do this for you."

"You shouldn't feel like you to have to do anything," Daphne replied, still a bit startled from this sudden embrace.

Sabine lifted her head and looked Daphne in the eyes. She could see that Sabine's eyes, gray-blue and lovely, were shining with tears. "I'm doing this because I want to," she said softly but firmly. "It's been a terrible day."

"Was it even a day? It feels like it's been a year."

"Exactly. We all deserve a break, especially you." She leaned closer until her forehead pressed against Daphne's. Their noses touched. Sabine smelled like soap. "We're going to get through this," she whispered. Daphne could feel her breath, warm and gentle as the candlelight. "We're all together, so we're going to get through this."

Even though she could feel her emotions teetering wildly on the edge of tears again, Daphne smiled. "I know."

Sabine pulled away. "I'm going to make you some tea. Do you like chamomile?"

"I love it."

"Perfect." Sabine smiled and stepped out, closing the door lightly behind her.

Daphne turned off the tap; Sabine had left it running. The thick white foam that covered the surface of the water was threatening to overflow. Daphne took off her ripped, dirty, tear-stained sweater and undershirt, then her wrinkled skirt, then her torn-through stockings. It felt glorious, like she was pulling off her recent memories. She tossed them in a pile on the floor, followed by her bra and underwear, before stepping into the tub. It was hot, almost too hot, but somehow calming. The candles flickered as her body moved past them, then flickered some more as her sitting down in the tub sent a wave of bubbly water over the rim, wiping out some of the lower-burning ones and splashing onto the floor.

"Oops," she murmured, but she wasn't all that concerned. She let herself sink into the abnormally deep bathtub, feeling the hot water creep up her neck brush against her chin. The side pieces of her bright orange bangs floated like jellyfish tendrils in the water. She closed her eyes and slipped beneath the surface. When she came up again, Sabine had returned.

"You look more like a mermaid than a witch," she said. Her mouth and eyes were soft. "I brought you chamomile tea with lemon and honey. That's how I like it."

"Thanks," Daphne replied, taking the mug with soapy hands. She tried to drink but spilled some in the tub. It quickly mixed with the water. "Oh no," she said. "I'm sorry, I'm just—"

"Hey, it's okay," said Sabine, putting a hand on Daphne's head and soothingly running her fingers through her hair. "Take all the time you need." She hesitated a moment, then bent down and kissed Daphne on the forehead. She pulled back, smiling silently, as she brushed the bubbles off her nose and chin. "I'm going to see if we have the stuff to make grilled cheese," she said with a smile. Then she left again.

The water was cool and the tea completely gone by the time Daphne felt ready to get out of the bath. Most of the candles had burned out, so she didn't feel bad about dripping a stream of water of them as she climbed out. She felt clean and more at peace than she did when she first got in. She wrapped herself in the soft towels Sabine had brought—one for her body and one for her hair—and headed downstairs again.

Her friends were waiting for her in the living room. Empty mugs of their own stood on the coffee table, next to a crumb-covered plate that had once presumably held grilled cheese. "Daphne," Sabine said, standing up from her seat on the couch. "How was your bath?"

"Relaxing."

"Long," Rhode added.

"But that's good, because it gave Rhode and I a chance to talk," Sabine finished. "Daphne, we'd been thinking—"

"—thinking about it ever since your mom broke us out of the Coven—"

"—that we won't leave anyone behind." Sabine and Rhode shared a look. "We're going to rescue your mom."