A/N: ATTENTION: TRIGGER WARNING, SUICIDE. If you or anyone you know is suffering from depression or is considering suicide, please speak to someone – a hotline, a counselor, a trusted adult. Please speak out!

On a less serious note – I wanted to talk a little about this story. I heard "Hey Brother" by Avicii (featuring Dan Tyminski on vocals) and I knew that I had to do something with it. Cue a few hours of thinking and this is the end result. It makes my day when I see that someone has, so please make mine! I suggest that you give it a quick listen (it's available on both Youtube and Vevo) before reading it – it's not required, as there are no lyrics, but it gives a good tone for the story. I hope you enjoy it and please review!

In other admin notes – Promises Made will be uploaded soon! I just had to get this out as I couldn't work on anything else until this was out of my system.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Darkest Powers series nor the Women of the Otherworld series, both are owned by Kelley Armstrong. Similarly, I don't own the song "Hey Brother" by Avicii, featuring Dan Tyminski.

Family

He watched his brother's form disappear between the trees. He had watched him perform his daily ritual for six months now. First, he would start at the house, looking at the room. He would then go down to the park and sit in the gazebo. After that, he would visit the graveyard for an hour or so. It would be dusk by then, and only when it was dusk, he would leave and head into the forest and find the spot in the trees.

He knew that on some level, his brother knew he was watching him. If he was aware or minded it, he hadn't said anything. He probably wasn't consciously aware of it or given it much thought. He didn't give much thought to many things these days.

No, Derek hadn't been the same. Simon knew that he would never recover the old Derek. Six months ago, they should have had two funerals because this hardly could be considered living. He was surprised they hadn't had cause for another one. He suspected that Derek had considered it but could his survival be considered the result of primeval instinct to survive despite the cost? Could his life really be considered surviving when he was stuck in the past for the rest of his days?

Simon got up and went back to the house. He moved in with Derek shortly afterwards but he hadn't been allowed to change a thing. The DVR still recorded the shows she only watched, her grocery list still hung up on the refrigerator, her purse still sat on the entry table. By all appearances, it looked as though she was still around. No, she was still around, she simply wasn't living.

He had sought advice from other necromancers. He thought that if Derek could talk to her, to find some sort of reason, he could let go. He hadn't been met with encouraging results. If they were able to summon her, and that was a big if (how could Chloe make it look so easy, even unintentional, when the others could barely raise a recently deceased spirit?), Derek would never be able to talk to her. A grand celestial joke – family members, including spouses, aren't allowed to talk to the living. It is supposed to help the transition for both sides. The left behind have to move on with their own lives and the spirits have to do whatever they do. The necromancers were intentionally vague on that part.

He hadn't been satisfied with those answers. They all referred him to the same person – Jaime Vegas. He had seen her shows advertised but according to them, she was the legitimate deal. She was also the necromancers delegate on the Interracial Council, so if she wasn't able to help, she would know who could.

He had flown down to New York to watch one of her shows. He managed to pick up a VIP ticket to get backstage.

She was still gorgeous. True, she was older but she still had her youthful energy and physique. He had whispered to her that he needed her help, possibly her influence on the council's. She had gone from giving him a dismissive look to a serious one. She gave him a nod and continued down the line, greeting other VIPs. She cast him a curious glance before they were ushered back to their seats.

Simon spent the show recoiling in disgust. He knew that she was faking it. She didn't summon anyone's Uncle Mike or Grandmother May. Her show was an elaborate ruse to steal people's money.

He was absolutely fuming when she met him after the show. He sat in her dressing room, glaring at her.

"And what makes it a scam?"

"You're not summoning anyone!"

Jaime stuffed a towel at the crack between the door and the floor.

"They don't want to know the truth, dear. You think they really want to hear that Uncle Joe is pissed that Bob blew through the family? Or for Mary to stop dating the neighbors? No, they want to be placated. That is what everyone wants."

"That's not what my brother wants, needs."

"Look," she cast an eye to the clock, "I appreciate the effort you've put into this, but summoning someone is a pretty traumatic thing, especially if they don't want to."

"She never made it traumatic. She could summon anyone and they never seemed cross or traumatized."

"Then she was lying."

"She wasn't. She couldn't. Spirits flocked to her, she even had to wear a necklace to help curb the number, but it didn't stop all of them."

He watched her as she sat down.

"Can you help me then? My brother – he lives his live in an endless loop. He had for the last six months. He just needs to know why."

"Is this a sister-in-law that we're talking about?"

Simon shifted uneasily.

"No, not technically, or maybe, technically, yes." Jaime cocked her head at his non-answer. "I mean, my brother," he sighed, "is a werewolf. They were together for fifteen years. They never made it official but they were everything but the paper. He thought the less of a paper trail, the safer they could, would be."

Jaime moved and sat beside him. She took his hand in hers.

"I think I understand enough. I just need to grab a few supplies and I can try summoning her tonight. Do you have anything of hers?"

"I have an old keychain, but what do you mean, supplies?"

"You have to have supplies for the ritual."

"She never did."

He met her in her hotel room two hours later. It was approaching midnight and he was desperately tired. He was worried about Derek. He hadn't been there to watch him. If something happened, if he did something, his gut clenched. No, the loop would repeat as it had all of the nights previous.

Jaime began the ritual. He watched, out of interest and respect.

He expected Jaime to start talking to the seemingly thin air. He did not expect her to shrink back, hands trying to muffle a scream.

Madness.

Simon had not been expecting that. Nor had he been expecting to hear that things had only gone downhill since her passing. She still attracted spirits, only now there were precious few places she could banish them too. She didn't have her necklace there. How could she? It was buried with her. Derek had insisted that it was buried with her, but that didn't mean that it crossed over with her.

He shuddered as he forced back the memory of Jaime, spewing nonsensical voices, screaming for help, screaming for Derek. No, not Jaime, it was Chloe. He heard it every day when Derek played the greeting on the answering machine.

He had sat there, stunned. He had seen possessions before. Chloe had been possessed a time or two, but it was never for long. This was. This was torturously long.

He held Jaime, no, Chloe, as she shrieked and beat him with her fists.

When it was over, Jaime cried and Simon joined her.

He was at the door when Jaime weakly called out to him.

"She never stood a chance. Poor lamb, never stood a chance."

Simon waited on the sofa for Derek to come in.

It was sunrise. He would be back from the forest not too much longer. He spent his nights out there. Simon had tried to ask him why, but he never received an answer.

He needed to tell him about his meeting with Jaime Vegas. It had been a week since it happened. He hadn't told Derek about it beforehand. He hadn't told him about any of his meetings. He couldn't bring himself to first subject him to false hope and then take what little life out of him with the lackluster results.

He needed to tell him about this. He needed too. If Derek knew, he could make the decision.

The door creaked open and Derek stumbled in.

"We need to talk."

Derek looked at him, no, through him towards the back wall. He made his way into the kitchen.

"I already made a pot of coffee, you need to sober up," Simon called out to him. Simon heard a grunt in response. Of course he probably would be sober given a few hours once his body processed whatever awful amount of booze he had consumed during the night.

Simon was surprised when Derek returned, coffee in hand. They sat in awkward silence while Derek worked on his mug. A few times, Derek turned to look behind him, as if he heard something. Simon had seen this enough – it was the time that before, Chloe would be scurrying down the stairs to try to grab some sort of breakfast before she left for work. Every day it happened like clockwork and it still happened, although she wasn't here. Previously, Simon had thought that maybe her ghost was here, running through the motions. Perhaps somehow she was making some infinitesimal noise that only Derek could hear. He now knew better.

Once Simon considered Derek sober enough, he began.

"If you want me to catch the next flight, you've got to give me a good reason."

"Tori, please, I need you here. I don't think either one of us can do it without you."

"I'll catch the redeye but you better have a damn good reason."

"You two have got to be out of your goddamned minds," Tori hissed.

Derek had begun his nightly ritual.

"If I had known this was the reason I needed to drop everything and come up here, I wouldn't."

"I know," Simon said. "But, we both need you. Derek needs us both."

"I thought you were up here trying to get him to move on, but I see that you've just been babysitting a drunk."

"He only drinks at night, out there."

"And you didn't stop him?"

Simon lifted up his hand and grabbed Tori's. "Please, let me explain everything fully. I needed him to be out of the house. I don't think he could listen to it, not the full version."

"I think he's this way," Simon said, leading Tori by the hand. They made their way through the forest, sure that their footfalls were heard by Derek.

They found him where Simon expected him. It looked different, of course. The last time he was in the forest, it was winter. They were now at the height of summer, the trees now full of life instead of their bare bones exposed.

Derek was standing in front of a tree, bottle in hand.

Simon tried not to look at the base. Even though everything was different, he could imagine her there, curled up at the base into a small ball, her hands covering her ears. Her eyes were closed tight, as if she was trying to banish something. And the blood, there was so much blood, it blanketed the ground.

"We're here," Simon called out to him.

"She should have woken me. She always did. We'd find a safe spot, a quiet spot," he rambled. "My fault, my fault, I must have been sleeping too heavy. My fault."

Tori looked at him, her face was stone. She was watching Derek now, and her face continued its stony appearance.

Simon touched Derek's arm. The touch seemed to snap him back to sobriety. Simon gave him a hug. Tori followed. Derek's eyes remained on the spot.

"I still see here there, always see her there."

Simon and Tori looked to the spot, the spot where Chloe died. Tori gave Derek a nod and he walked over to it. He crouched as though he did see her – he certainly moved as though he did.

Once he settled into a spot, Simon looked over to Tori, his vision blurring from unshed tears. It didn't need to be said.

Tori picked up the gun.

"I think he did see her," Simon said once they got back to the house. "One of the necromancers told me that people that were mentally ill could see ghosts, those residuals that she would sometimes see," he trailed off.

"I think he went mad, mad with grief," Simon continued abruptly. "It had to have been. He did the exact same thing every night, down to the minute. He would follow the last hours of her life. I guess that was when whatever … happened, started."

Tori watched him. They hadn't said a non-magical word since they took care of the burial. They would order the etching to be done to the headstone in the morning.

"I hope we did the right thing," she said quietly.

Simon and Tori spent the day boxing up the house. It would have been easier to pay someone but it didn't feel right.

"What are you going to tell Dad?"

Simon grabbed the clothes hanging in the closet and set them on the bed. He began the tedious task of removing the hangers.

"Hunting accident, I think."

"And he won't raise a fuss about us not waiting to bury him?"

"If it was a hunting accident, he'd still be in wolf form. There is no way we could find a way to bury a dog in the local cemetery. We'd claim some sort of religious exemption for the rest of the paperwork."

"I guess that isn't too far from the truth," Tori said, placing picture frames in the oversized box.

It rang three times.

"I'm thinking of moving to New York."

"Hello, to you too. Do you start all phone calls or am I only lucky one?"

"I called your cell phone. You have caller ID – wait, I am in there, right?"

"Maybe not much longer," Tori laughed.

"But seriously – I'm thinking of moving to New York. I can take my work anywhere and you're working in New York, and I thought that after everything, I mean. I had a script and you threw me off so this horrible ramble is your fault. But back on point, you're in New York. I can be there. I think I should do it."

"Are you sure? You've leaving the grand vast of Nothingsville, Canada to a place where there is civilization."

"I want too. I want us to be close. I mean, calls are nice, but I just want to be able to see you, you know?"

"I suppose that could work."

"Excellent, I'll pack up a bag. You still have that spare room?"

"Yes – I mean, no, I am not letting you live with me."

"It's only while I find a place more permanent."

"I am already regretting this."

Six glasses of wine into Simon's first night, they were both quite tipsy. Tori had once been a fun drunk, now she was quiet, retreating into herself.

"Did we do the right thing? I mean, really? Couldn't we have just put him on some pills and signed him up for online dating?"

"If I thought I could suggest that and remain alive, don't you think I would have?"

Tori nodded and poured another glass.

"I never did thank you," Simon began.

"You don't need to," Tori interrupted. "You don't need to. If it had to be done, it should have been me."

Simon scooted closer on the couch and interlaced his fingers with hers.

"I know it must have been hard."

Tori shook her head.

"He was practically the walking dead already. I just helped take the walking part out."

Simon squeezed her hand.

"You sure talk a mean game."

Tori rolled her eyes and yanked her hand back.

"I just knew you couldn't, okay? Can we drop it already?"

Months passed and Simon didn't move out. Tori made the occasional remark about squatters but she never went any further.

"I can move out anytime. If I'm putting a cramp on your social life, just say it."

Tori gave him a bewildered look.

"I just didn't expect you to be home last night, from your date."

Tori rolled her eyes as she worked on her morning coffee.

"Is it serious?"

"Is what serious?"

"Your date."

Tori again rolled her eyes.

"So if I met him then, that wouldn't be a concern?"

"Only concern I have is filling up that precious little brain space you have."

"So that's a no?"

"It's a 'why bother'. I'm not looking to get serious about anyone, anytime."

"Are you happy?"

"Am I happy? What sort of question is that?"

Simon shrugged.

Tori set down her mug and pushed aside the newspaper.

"We don't know if we were right," she hissed. "And we can't know, can we? We're all family, so we wouldn't be able to use a necromancer to make sure we were right. Hell, we don't even know if they ended up in the same place. Did you know there are special places for different types? How do we know that she isn't in some necromancer place and he's in some werewolf one? How do we know that, huh?"

Simon watched as Tori stormed off into the hall.

"You really should talk to me."

Tori looked up at him. Dark rings were under her eyes.

Simon closed her bedroom door behind him and sat on her bed beside her.

"Fine, I'll talk," he began. "I'm sorry."

"I wonder if there is a place where only killers go."

"You're not a killer."

"Tell that to the law. But, if there is, that means I stand a decent chance of running into Mom. I stand a good chance in seeing if you can kill a ghost."

"I'd like to see that," Simon chuckled.

"You don't have to move out. I mean it. I'm not going to move anywhere or bring anyone in, so you're free to stay as long as you like."

"You've sworn off dating?"

"Dating no – love, yes."

"Tori, you can't be serious."

"Look at what happened because of love. Fuck love. Fuck love up it's lovely ass."

Simon shook his head, snickering.

"Besides," Tori continued, "I think I have enough right now. There's you and Dad. And I think one of the hells must be a frozen ice rink because I received a letter from Lara yesterday."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know, not yet."

"Whatever you decide, I'm good with it."

"Even if it's to melt your eyeballs so she could look at you?"

"I could just wear sunglasses. You don't have to be violent towards me every day."

"I was thinking it might help you get a girlfriend and move out. It'd improve your looks."

Simon laughed and threw a pillow at her.

They stared at the tree. It had been a year since they were last there.

"You don't think we're in a residual here, do you?"

"No, we were granting mercy," Simon answered.

Tori closed her eyes and leaned her head against Simon.

They stood there for a while. Simon was letting Tori process whatever she needed to process. He would be here for her, as he always was, as he intended to be in the future.

She straightened up and walked over to the tree and crouched in front of it.

"I hope there is a residual of us here," she said. "That way, Chloe isn't alone. We're all together," she gave a small smile. "We'll be together for all of time."

Simon hadn't thought of it in that way.

"I hope you're right," he said joining her. He could see it in his mind, the four of them together for one last time to be repeated an infinite amount of times.

Their family could be complete for the ages.