A quick story about one possible future for Zoe, Kyle, and Madison. Jotted down as quickly as the idea was conceived and with very little editing.

I know a lot of people disliked the Madison/Kyle scene and/or the threesome scene in "The Dead" but I didn't find it really surprising. They have been alluding to it as a possibility since the beginning. So I just thought I would write this up and put it out there. Thanks! – E.

Zoe/Kyle/Madison, Zoe/Kyle – Rated T

Disclaimer: I do not own American Horror Story. Only the idea for this little fic is mine.

They needed her. Like children need their mother. And she couldn't be responsible for making them orphans for a second time in their short lives.

They loved her and Zoe let them; fed them from her power, the thing that had started singing in her veins. They had so little of their own. She could bring them back to themselves, heal them, body and soul. And they would all have forever.

That first night they slept, naked, piled on Madison's bed in a heap of limbs and fair hair. The second night, all still remembering the first, their restlessness, the cramped confines of a bed too small for three bodies, they grabbed up all the pillows and blankets they could find and made a nest on the floor.

Madison and Kyle kept Zoe wedged between them at night, hands grasping, clutching, needing her near. Something within Zoe called to each of them. Made them cling to her in desperation.

The act of their resurrection had bound them to her and Zoe to them. Her magic issuing the spark of life within them. They belonged to one another.

"Fiona should die. That's the punishment for killing another witch right?" Madison had her arms wrapped around Zoe's middle, her fingertips trailing along Kyle's stomach.

"You burn a witch," Zoe commented.

"I want to slash the bitch's throat. Let her know how it feels."

Zoe smirked, "Fine, slit her throat. Then we'll burn the witch."

Kyle nudged in closer behind her, his nose running along her neck. Zoe sighed, leaning into his touch and turning onto her back so that she could see both of their bright blond heads.

"Somehow," Zoe breathed, her fingers dragging through Kyle's wild hair, her other arm going around Madison's shoulders as she adjusted, wriggling further into her body, "I doubt Fiona is the only issue we're going to have to deal with."

"What do you mean?"

"There is more going on here, with us, with this coven, than some power hungry old crone."

All three stared up at the white ceiling in silence for a moment before Madison turned her mouth to Zoe's shoulder. Kyle smiled, doing the same, his palm cupping her breasts, one then the other, fingers skipping along Zoe's ribs to tweak Madison's nipple, making her groan.

"Mmm, again?" Zoe asked Kyle with a purr, feeling him pressed, hard and ready, against her thigh. His lips found her pulse point, sucking. "Come here," she touched his face, bringing it to hers, kissing him ferociously.

"My turn," Madison pouted. And Zoe released Kyle, finding the other girl's mouth on hers immediately as their boy crawled between her thighs.

"Oh god," Zoe gasped, eyes wide, as he thrust himself inside of her. Sex was still fairly new to her. Two times before Kyle had not fully prepared her. Especially not for his insatiable appetite, his need for violence. Or the massive fucking cock her friend had selected for him. Madison giggled in her mouth. "Shut up, bitch," she exhaled.

"Make me," the other girl hummed against her and Zoe found her fingers slipping against Madison's salivating mound.

She didn't have much to say after that.

When Madison died, saving Zoe and Kyle by sacrificing herself, there was a smile on her face. Zoe liked to think that on her second time around Madison saw the light she had longed for, that it had all made sense in the end. Otherwise she would never have been able to live with herself for letting the other girl go.

She and Kyle never slept in a bed again. It seemed like a desecration of their third's memory. To suddenly climb back up onto a mattress because they were only two, a more standard, socially expectable, number. What about any of them had ever been standard or expectable to society?

Instead they had settled onto the blankets that night, Kyle gasping and groaning as Zoe rocked him against her, soothing him. "It's okay, baby. It's okay." A sob wracked his body as she rubbed his back. "At least I still have you. And you have me, Kyle. I'm never going to leave you." He moaned softly, clinging to her tighter. Tears tracked down her own cheeks, wetting her lips and staining her face red but she tried to be strong for him. For their boy. She didn't want to upset him further. He couldn't stand the sight of tears.

Still, he struggled, getting to his knees, and turned in her arms. Zoe slackened her grip, sighing. Kyle's finger traced the path of salt from her eye to her chin. She nodded. "We'll miss her." And he agreed.

He tugged her down to lay on the quilt, shared her pillow, wrapping Zoe's small body up within himself, repeating the same calming noises she had made for him moments before. They stared at one another, there on the floor of their room, and saw into the other. The sadness, the loneliness. She touched his face, her thumb on his lip. "We'll be okay." She was telling herself as much as him.

He kissed her then, inching closer, her hands in his hair, his mouth on her collarbone.

They had been together without Madison before but had always known that she was nearby, could join them with a smile, at anytime. It was the first time they were assured to be uninterrupted and it broke both of their hearts a little bit more.

With Fiona dead, the witch hunter put down, and the voodoo queen locked in a box for all eternity, a new supreme was chosen by the remaining council members. Right before they rushed back out of town, fleeing the wreckage.

Zoe would reign from the house in New Orleans. The place a supreme belonged. And Kyle would be her king. In her heart, Madison would always be her lady in waiting, her courtesan with the mischievous eyes and smirking red lips.

But she was too busy to feel desolate, to lose herself to sadness. The coven needed restructuring, a new council member needed to be appointed, the school white-washed, sanitized, after all that had happened there. All the evil, which had lived in those walls for so many years.

Zoe thought about children, having a child. Not with Kyle. Over the years it had become glaringly obvious that dead boys couldn't reproduce. But she had thought about artificial insemination. Perpetuating the race. It wasn't as necessary, as vital, as it had once been though. With Hank and Marie Laveau incapacitated, their numbers steadily grew; new witches of all ages were popping up in the most unexpected places. The school had nearly thirty live-in residents by then.

And when she was honest with herself, Zoe was afraid of what might come slithering out of her after all she had done, those she had killed and maimed and warped over the years.

Her cunt was cursed and she truly never wanted to know just how deep inside of her that curse dwelled.

And she had Kyle. Still shambling around the mansion. In the early days she wondered if he would, could, age, but he did. Slowly changing, each part of him at a slightly different rate. They were growing up together. They would get old together.

Over the years, Zoe would admit, she got more eccentric, more witchy. Wildly long hair, black nails, tattered lace gowns, and heavy shawls over her shoulders. She would read her tea leaves every morning. Her tarot cards every night. She held audiences from the kitchen as she fashioned sugar skulls, drinking wine from a goblet, and chain smoking. The girls at Miss Robichaux's adored her.

Kyle never did master an extensive vocabulary but Zoe felt that it was more likely because he, eventually, just stopped caring whether he could communicate. At least communicate with anyone but her. And some of her closest friends: Misty, Cordelia, Nan. But Misty just knew him and Cordelia only had to touch him and Nan read his thoughts. And Zoe, she was as much him as he was himself. After a time he never actually needed to tell her anything. They related without words. They were one entity.

He liked to putter around in the greenhouse, the herb garden, raking, sewing. And he built things. Impossible sculptures from scrap metal, things he found on their walks. They tried to get out of the academy everyday, to be a part of the world. And Kyle always held her hand.

They had spent countless hours wrapped up in one another, holding, touching, grasping. Kyle held the key to Zoe's body and with him she had flourished. But the simple act of his lips on her cheek, his hand around hers, meant more than any moan of pleasure.

She had given up on having love, but Madison and Kyle had given her that hope back. Given her the power to be herself, to be the Supreme. And her heart nearly burst for loving him, them, even after so many years.

And every night, she and Kyle still shared that heap of blankets in their old room.

He died there. One day and without the courtesy of getting sick or frail, giving Zoe a warning that she needed to make her goodbyes.

She awoke that morning, ran her fingers along his still warm, bare back, up into his salt and pepper hair. They had stopped bleaching it endless years ago.

But he didn't stir, didn't turn and greet her with the standard hello or good morning, and a kiss.

"Baby?" Zoe already knew he was gone though, felt it in her bones, that piece of her that was missing. Or maybe returned. Like when Madison had died that second, final time. Her magic ebbing from their forms and slipping back inside her. She would trade it, that drop of power, of life, back, any day, if he, they, could still be with her.

What was she alone? She hadn't truly been alone with herself for nearly fifty years.

After that, Zoe began to feel tired, drifting listlessly. Claudia, her assistant, Margo, the newest head of school, they urged her to see a doctor but Zoe refused. She knew what it was, what was coming for her. Death. And she welcomed it. The freedom.

A new supreme was rising, draining her, but she was happy, excited to meet the young witch who would replace her. Zoe had lived a good number of years for a woman in her position. She would always remember Fiona, her inability to accept the inevitable, to do what was right for her coven. Zoe had strove throughout her reign to be the opposite of her predecessor. In every way but strength. Fiona Goode had been one tough bitch.

At the end she spent days in her nest of blankets and quilts. Only one remained from those early days and she kept it close, no matter how tattered or dirty it was. A last piece, a last reminder, of the beginning, at her end.

The sisters of her coven buried her beside Kyle, the boy, man, she had made. Who she had loved. For so many years.

Madison was back and to the right. Cordelia just beyond that. Nan was buried outside of the city, along side her husband. And Misty had long ago vanished into her swamp. It was where she wanted to be and Zoe had respected her decision. But with the old guard gone, a new rising, she just hoped they wouldn't be too young, too naive to repeat the mistakes of the so recent past. That her girls would stay together, united, divine, and that they would make her proud no matter what may come. Holding their coven together though all odds. Protecting the Salem line for another four-hundred years.