Disclaimer: Fable and all affiliated characters/locations belong to Lionhead Studios. I am in no way making any profit off of this story; this is all for personal amusement. Thank you.

Warnings: This story contains 'yaoi', or malexmale relationships. Such events won't take place until later, but you have been warned. If male-love bothers you, then please hit your little 'Back' button and find something more befitting of your tastes. Once more, thank you.

It was over. Finally, after so many years of struggling and fighting, Lucien was dead. His mad dream to re-shape Albion was stopped, and the threat looming over everyone's lives was gone. Yet for one man, it meant nothing. It seemed that even though Lucien had lost, he had still won.

For Sparrow, his victory was an empty, bitter one. Standing on the docks of Oakfield, the tired Hero could only stare out at the ocean, wondering if it was worth it. Slowly, he turned his gaze from that of the Spire in the distance down to his hands, weathered with premature age. His sacrifices had been painful, but his final choice had been the most devastating.

When Lucien had told him that his family had been killed, he had wanted nothing more than to shoot the bastard where he was standing. Yet, unfortunately, the Hero could do nothing but stand there and listen, restrained by an unseen force that held him in a vice even when Speil was gunned down. Speil, his valiant golden companion, taken away just like everything else he loved… He was forced to watch as the man who had stolen everything from him raised his pistol a second time and took aim, and without hesitation he pulled the trigger.

Then, as Sparrow stood within the Spire with the music box held in his hand and his pistol in the other, he listened as Lucien once more tried to justify his actions. He was insulted, disgusted, and would show no mercy on the man who had stolen his life. Yet before he could tighten his finger on the trigger, another gun shot rang out, and the once-brunette Hero watched as Lucien suddenly stumbled and fell off the Spire platform with a surprised cry, surely to his death.

Slowly, his strange red eyes lifted and landed upon Reaver, still holding the smoking Dragonstomper .48 in his outstretched hand. Sparrow felt as though he should be angry, or cheated out of revenge the he had been struggling to achieve, but surprisingly, he felt nothing. Gone was the fire that had raged inside of him, replaced now with only a mild numbness as the realization that Lucien was truly dead slowly sank in.

This same, odd feeling remained even as Theresa appeared, offering him her hand and with it, three choices.

Money, his family, or the people of Albion. Immediately he disregarded the choice of wealth, as money meant absolutely nothing to him. But now, with the offer of his family or the countless people Lucien had helped kill with the creation of the Spire…

Sparrow had bit his lip to the point where it bled as he pondered his choice. Rose, Speil, his wife and son… They would all be brought back. He could finally have the life that he had only dreamed of, the reward he deserved for the pain and suffering he had endured over the years… Yet as he opened his mouth to tell Theresa he had made his decision, he stopped, looking down at his prematurely aged hands as if he had just been slapped.

If he picked his family… Would he be no better than Lucien? How many thousands of people had lost their sisters, brothers, their husbands and wives, or daughters or sons? Could he seriously let them all suffer for a selfish wish? Cursing and damning himself for his good heart, Sparrow slowly raised his eyes to those of Theresa's, meeting those milk-white orbs with an expression of devastation. He knew that she knew of his choice before he even spoke. Choosing to bring back the countless people lost to Lucien's madness was the most painful thing he had ever done…

Emitting a tired sigh, the lost Hero finally tore his red eyes away from his hands, turning on his heel and beginning to shuffle from the docks of Oakfield. He ran the options through his mind, wondering where he could go now, or what he could do. It was too soon to go home; to the house he shared with his wife and son, knowing they wouldn't be there to meet him with big smiles and open arms… Honestly, now, Sparrow was the epitome of alone, and he was finding it hard to settle with. Yet he would endure, as he always had.

Then, an idea crossed his mind, and because he had nothing else to go with, he decided to go with it. Carefully and slowly the old Hero trudged through Oakfield, ignoring the looks of concern or soft greetings he received as he passed by the Sandgoose. Sparrow didn't have the energy, or the heart, to speak with them or assure them that he was alright. Which, in all actuality, he wasn't.

It was sundown by the time Sparrow reached his destination, pausing once he took the final step and raising his eyes to gaze numbly at the impressive, bright stone structures that stood in front of him. Through the years, the Temple of Light had changed dramatically, but no matter how much it developed, it still held that same calming atmosphere as it normally did. Even the soothing sounds of the fountain nearby added to the elements of natural beauty that seemed to surround the place with every step one took.

Slowly, Sparrow entered the main hall of the temple, where he was immediately greeted by an elderly monk. The man bowed respectively to the old Hero, his expression grim.

"Hello, Hero," he started gently, his dark eyes filled with sympathy and compassion, "Congratulations on your victory." Immediately, Sparrow dropped the man's gaze, looking down at his feet. The monk's words were far too painful to hear, as there was no victory. For Albion? Yes. For him? Not so much.

"I'm sorry about your wife…" he continued, keeping his tone soothing, "I cannot imagine how you must be feeling. I don't know if it will help, but perhaps you should pray. Avo hears all, and Light gives to those who have faith."

Dragging his eerie red eyes from the ground, Sparrow slowly looked over at the statue of Avo nestled at the front of the hall. He had 'prayed' before, in situations where survival seemed hopeless or when he was feeling his worst, but never had he actually sat in prayer. The Hero nodded, once, and slowly shuffled to the statue, staring up at Avo's sculpted face in silence for moments that seemed to drag on for an eternity.

Unceremoniously, then, he fell to his knees, dropping his head in defeat. With nothing left to give, or lose, Sparrow prayed. He prayed for freedom from his pain, his suffering, and from this world that seemed so bent on leaving him broken and bleeding. He prayed for forgiveness from Rose, Speil, and his wife Elizabeth and son Tristan, begging for them to forgive the fact that he had failed to protect them, that he wasn't strong enough. He dared to even pray that soon, he would be set free from the confines of his wretched new body, which he could return to that brief illusion of heaven with Rose upon that farm…

Sparrow prayed long into the night for anything and everything that his mind could think of. When he finally forced himself to stand, the moon had reached its zenith in the sky, but that was unimportant. The fatigue that gripped him was unrelenting, and the old Hero knew he would need to rest soon. With that realization came to the knowledge that now, it was time to return to what he was dreading the most.

When the elderly monk bid him farewell, he simply nodded, not saying anything. After all, there wasn't a reason for him to speak, not anymore. Once more Sparrow walked along the path heading back to Oakfield, the moonlight illuminating the road ahead of him. The numbness was still present in his mind, robbing him of the abilities to think clearly, but he found that he didn't care. It was almost refreshing, to have no thoughts swirling in the dark depths of his mind.

While his feet carried him to his dreaded destination, he steeled himself for what he might find when he reached his home.

In the darkness, the house looked terribly foreboding, promising him nothing but hurt and torment once he opened the door and stepped foot inside. The memories would return with nothing to stop them, and there would be nothing he could do but to endure. With each step that he took, he drew closer, but before he could open the door a shrill noise cut through the air. It was a whinny, the sound indignant and bothered, and it took Sparrow a few moments to remember where, and what, it was coming from.

Giving the door one last glance, Sparrow turned and hurried as quickly as his body would let him to the back of the house, taking in the lone stable that he had, once upon a time, built by his hand to accommodate his horse. He had not taken the mare with him when he had left for Bloodstone, as he knew that they would be travelling by Cullis Gate, and so left the creature here to be fawned over by his son.

In the paddock attached to the stable the white horse was pacing at a furious trot, tossing her head to and fro, her ivory mane and coat shimmering in the moonlight. The Andalusian, however, paused in her pacing when she scented him, going rigid as the Hero grew closer. Reaching the fence, he carefully reached a hand out. With his new body, Sparrow wondered if the mare would even recognize him.

"Easy, girl," he murmured as the white horse ventured closer, hesitant in her steps, "It's alright, Janus." At the sound of his voice, however, recognition shone in the mare's eyes, and she happily came forward with a nicker and pushed her muzzle against her master's outstretched hand. With a gentle smile, he scratched her upon the nose for a few tender moments before pulling away. Doing a quick check of his horse, it neither was plain to see there was nothing wrong with her nor was she injured in any way, and promising her oats and a bath come morning, he turned to head back to the house.

Moments later he found himself at the front door, and breathing in deeply, he pushed the door open, taking in the state of the home. Surprisingly, everything was still in its place, looking as if the occupants of the home had been gone for only a few hours. Ignoring the tightening of his heart and the threat of tears in his eyes, Sparrow walked slowly through the kitchen to the stairs leading to the second floor, beginning to take them one at a time. The steps were unpleasant, making his joints ache and his fatigue that much more prominent, but they were just another obstacle to overcome.

At the top of the stairs Sparrow had to pause to catch his breath, but after a few moments he made his way to the bedroom that once belonged to him and his wife. Opening the door, he took in the empty bedroom and the still-made bed, and quietly he shuffled inside. Very slowly he began undoing the belt holding his sword to his back, grasping his Daichi and resting it against the bedside table, as was its normal spot while he slept. Then he moved on to the holster on his hip, unbuckling it and sliding the Red Dragon underneath his pillow. More than once such a habit had saved his life, even though his wife had reprimanded him each time he did it at home…

Gritting his teeth, Sparrow forced his mind to remain in the blissful state of numbness that it had been in since his return to Oakfield. He couldn't afford to fall apart now.

Not even bothering to remove his boots, the weary Hero fell upon the soft bed, allowing his red eyes to fall closed. He was tired and sore, and his body demanded a respite from all of the fighting and straining it had experienced in the last few hours. Since meeting Reaver, there had been no time for rest.

Half-heartedly he pulled the quilt over his shoulders, relishing in the warmth, and despite the pain he was in, it took nearly no time at all for Sparrow to drift off.

When Sparrow awoke, he was instantly struck with the feeling that he had forgotten something horribly important. For a few, tense moments the Hero lay upon his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to recall what, exactly, he was forgetting. The sun was shining through the half open window, the sound of the birds singing easily filtering through the morning air.

Then, abruptly, it came to him, and he sat up in a flurry of motion.

After finally succumbing to slumber the night before, he had dreamt the strangest dream. He had been sitting by a pond, simple and secluded due to the large overgrowth of brush around him, but he was content. There was no fighting, no loss, no pain in this dream, this beautiful sanctuary of a pond, and with a soft sigh he had begun trailing simple designs in the water's surface with a finger. Yet when he caught his own reflection, Sparrow stared down into the water as if he had seen a ghost. His reflection stared back at himself, yes, but it was as it once was. Gone was his eerie red eyes and whitening hair, and instead he was young and handsome once more, with familiar bright ice-blue eyes and chocolate brown hair.

Then, abruptly, a gentle voice filled the silence of his sanctuary. It was as deep as it was holy, yet was soothing and good. It resonated within his bones and through the very air around him, but Sparrow was not afraid. After all, there was no fear. Not here.

"Those who deliver light receive what has been given," the voice stated, yet still the Hero's gaze was locked onto his reflection, unable to look away, "When you wake, Hero, go to the Oak. There, you will find what you seek."

Sitting upon his bed and very much awake, Sparrow pondered the voice's words. He knew not if those words were meaningful or of any importance, but as his gaze shifted to his hands, he blanched. No longer were his hands inflicted with the curse of premature age, instead smooth and tan, and with a sudden burst of anxiety and hope the lost Hero flung himself from the bed and to the dresser and the mirror that conjoined it.

"By Avo…" He whispered, unable to speak much louder than that even if he wanted to. Exactly like in his dream, his form was once again that of a young adult. Blue eyes stared back at him, and Sparrow slowly lifted his trembling hands and began trailing his fingers through his brown locks, sliding a hand down slowly to touch his cheek. It was incredible, unexplainable, but it was true.

For longer than he could keep track of he stood there, simply staring at his reflection. The pains of his old and wretched body were gone, replaced by the wonderful youthfulness he once had. Eventually, Sparrow's mind went back to his dream, recalling what else the voice had said.

"… The Oak…" He murmured, finally tearing his now blue eyes away from the mirror to look around the room. His weapons were still where he put them the night before, and so he went about collecting them, pondering what the voice had meant. As he was fastening his holster upon his waist, he froze, the words suddenly clicking into place.

Oakfield was renowned for its Golden Oak Tree. Surely that must be it. Without allowing himself time to think, Sparrow left the bedroom and hurried out of the house, setting off towards the Golden Oak at a full sprint once he stepped foot outside. He passed a few villagers along the way, surely throwing them for a loop with his odd behavior, but the brunette didn't have it in him to stop and explain what the rush was about. The voice's words resonated in his head, 'Then, you will find what you seek', and a glimmer of hope made itself known in his chest.

Eventually, the Hero slowed as he spotted the tree, taking in the magnificent structure that had rapidly grown throughout the years since its planting. The people of Oakfield revered this tree, treating it with utmost respect and love, and as such it had become a place for people's hopes and dreams. Upon the trees branches, both big and small, were pieces of string, and attached to that were small parchments, holding the wishes of many people. They fluttered innocently in the breeze, and Sparrow narrowed his eyes in scrutiny.

Slowly he began to pace around the tree, searching for some kind of sign, or direction as to what he was supposed to do. On his third round, something caught his eye, something that made his heart freeze in his chest. There, on a semi-high branch yet not out of reach, a note was tied with his name written elegantly a crossed the front. With a trembling hand, he reached up and timidly plucked the note from its string, beginning to unfold it slowly. Once it was open, he began to skim the words, his eyes widening with what he read.

My Beloved Sparrow –

Last night, I had the strangest dream… A woman came to me, and at first I was afraid of her. Yet then she told me that her name was Theresa, and I remembered that she was the woman that you so often talk about.

She told me that I needed to send Tristan away and not tell anyone of doing so. At first I was confused, and she wouldn't answer me when I asked her why, but somehow I knew I could trust her, that what she was saying was for the best. So, this morning, I sent Tristan to the Gypsy Camp, where I knew he would be safe… He wasn't happy, and it was terribly hard for me to do so, but I felt it had to be done. Perhaps when you come home, we can go and get him.

I do hope you come home soon… The house is horribly lonely without you and Tristan here to keep me company. I know you're very busy, but I just want you to be safe.

- With love, Elizabeth

Sparrow could only stare, his breath hitching in his throat. Five times he re-read the letter, feeling as if a hand was crushing his heart as the words began to sink in. He ached with pain from having something from his wife, for the knowledge and heartache of losing her came rushing back to him, but there was also a sense of elation. If what this note said was true, then Tristan should be safe… That saying if Lucien didn't find him.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Sparrow folded the note tenderly and placed it into his pocket, taking a moment of silence for his wife and her wise decision to listen to Theresa. Quickly then he headed back for his home, moving past the house and to the small stable he had for his horse. His thoughts now were of reaching the Gypsy Camp as soon as possible, and with it, if Avo permitted, his son.

A/N: Ah… Finally. After more than two years of sitting on my computer, I've decided to go ahead and post this up. Love it? Hate it? Please, let me know what you think! This has become a personal goal-story of mine… I've never finished something that I've started, and I hope to do so with this. I'm aiming for one chapter per week. Tootles, lovelies, and I hope you enjoyed.