Harry had been ready for a fight. He'd been gearing himself up to throw words and fists should Morgan order the wardens to pull Ethan from his father and take him away. But to his surprise, the enforcer only re-sheathed his sword after checking to see his third didn't need any assistance in holding onto Sharon.

"Take her in," he ordered. "I'll follow you shortly." As his orders were mutely carried out, Morgan walked over to where his other two wardens stood for a quiet conversation. Harry took the momentary lull to walk over to Roland still sat, hugging Ethan until the boy began to complain a little that he couldn't breathe. The man gave a violent jerk when Harry put a hand to his shoulder.

"It's okay," Harry assured, not missing the fact he addressing Ethan instead. "Everything will be okay," he repeated, wondering if out of all the things he could have said, that had been completely the wrong one. Things could quite possibly go as far from okay as possible.

"Dad, who's that?" Ethan asked, staring up at the wizard.

At his son's question, Roland finally seemed to break out of the trance he'd been in. Taking a quick swipe at his face, the shop owner released the grip he had on his son, though he left a lingering hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sorry, Ethan," he murmured instead of answering. The boy frowned, his father's increasingly strange behavior worrying him. Taking it into his own hands, Harry crouched down and did his best at seeming nonchalant. "Hi, I'm Harry," he introduced.

Ethan looked at the offered hand for a minute before taking it with his own small one. It felt warm, pulsing with life. "Ethan Bennett," he introduced with the kind of adult solemnity that only children could accomplish.

"Dresden," Morgan called over. The wizard stood up, waiting for a reprimand, but the enforcer's expression was unreadable as he waved him over. "Patel and I are taking her in," he informed Harry. "You will take the boy and his father back to your home. Erikson and Grayer will accompany you." The wizard took a look at the two wardens who stared back at him with silent assessment. "They have been given strict instructions not to touch the boy while he is under your care."

"Morgan, what's going to happen?" Harry asked, quietly.

"That has yet to be decided."

"The Council can't-"

"I wouldn't advise you to make comments on what the Council can and cannot do right now," the enforcer cut him off. "Take them back to your place. I will see you there shortly after I have spoken to the Council," he instructed.

Harry looked over to where Roland had managed to get to his feet, Ethan's hand still encased in his. The wizard then realized that the two of them actually had no where else to go. The bookstore was now a pile of ash and Charlotte Barquentine was now most likely on a plane to England. Plus, Harry doubted Roland showing up with his deceased son of two years would have gone down well, even with the normally game Charlotte.

"Okay," he agreed.

Morgan clamped a stern hand onto Harry's forearm, forcing the wizard to look at him. "Dresden," he said, quietly. "Don't run."

"Morgan, I'm not going to-"

"I mean it," the warden stressed. "Don't run. You let me handle this." While Harry was used to being given orders by Morgan on a near daily basis, there was something else in the tall man's face that indicated this was more than an order. It was advice. Mutely Harry agreed.

"What about her?" asked the wizard, looking to where Natalie was still sprawled.

"We will deal with it," Morgan replied, seemingly eager to get Harry gone. "Just go home, Dresden. And wait for me there."

It took close to an hour to usher everyone back to his apartment. And during that time, Harry couldn't help but continuously steal glances over at Ethan, remembering what Bob had told him about the sanity expectancy rate of those resurrected.

But the boy seemed only bewildered by all the strangers around him and a little annoyed when his father insisted on carrying him. Ethan appeared alert and soon looked even a little pleased when he realized how late it was and well past his bedtime.

The bell above Harry's shop gave an inappropriately cheerful jingle when the wizard walked in, followed by the silent troupe behind him. Above the footsteps, Harry could hear Ethan's excited whisper to Roland.

"Dad, it says 'wizard' on the door!"

Despite the situation, Harry smiled faintly at the enthusiastic exclamation.

"Okay," Harry announced, waving casually around his cluttered storefront. "Everyone make themselves comfortable." Ethan slid down from his father's grasp and looked around the storefront with eager eyes. "Ethan, you hungry?" he offered, taking a mental stock of what was in his kitchen. "Hot chocolate?" Realizing that was about the only kid-appropriate food he had in his house.

Ethan looked up at his father. "Can I?"

Roland nodded, shooting Harry a grateful look.

"Coming right up," Harry grinned. He eyed the two silent wardens. "Uh…cocoa?" They stared back at him. "Thought not. Coffee?" It was a little unnerving that they didn't even blink. "Want to stand by the door and look menacing?" he finally offered. He took their immobile silence as a yes and moved into the kitchen. He'd been expecting it, but still he inwardly winced when he saw the pale figure of Bob staring past his shoulder toward the room he'd just walked in from.

"You were too late," the ghost stated.

"Roland's alive," Harry said, busying himself with digging his cabinets for mugs.

"And so is the boy." Harry pulled a thing of milk from his fridge to heat up in on a well-burnt pan.

"He seems fine," the wizard interjected, banging glasses and stomping around with more volume than usual as if to drown out the conversation they were having. But the talk soon ceased regardless as Bob moved further toward the hallway, staring at the small figure who'd settled himself next to Roland on Harry's large couch. The two were talking quietly to one another, though it looked like the child was doing most of the talking. There was still a vaguely stunned expression on Roland's face as he stared at his son, not even daring to blink, lest he suddenly disappear. "Bob, don't. Get back here," Harry whispered, ushering the spirit who had unconsciously gone halfway down the hall.

While Bob kept his eyes glued on Ethan, he obligingly stepped back into the safety of the kitchen area. As the milk continued to heat, Harry leaned against the counter, his arms crossed in a nervous gesture. "Sharon's been taken in. Morgan has her. He told me to wait here for him." The wizard rubbed his tired face with both hands as he thought over the night's events. "It was Natalie. Ethan's mom. She used herself after I got Roland out." Harry looked up to see that the ghost was still staring in Ethan's direction. "Bob!" he stage whispered.

The spirit snapped his head back toward Harry. "Sorry," he apologized, faintly.

"I need to figure out what the Council is going to do," Harry said. "What they're going to do to Ethan."

The wizard could see it was taking some effort on Bob's part not to look back toward the boy. "It would depend," he began, haltingly. "The spell…the instigators of it have been caught…" he continued, but broke off to stare into the other room again, Ethan giggled at something his father had said. Harry could tell that it was taking a considerable amount of effort on the ghost's part not to go in and get a closer look.

"Bob," Harry said with a little less frustration. "I need you to focus here."

"He sounds so…normal," the ghost murmured. "He hasn't…"

"No," Harry agreed. "It's been a little over an hour now. But he seems fine. Healthy." Bob didn't reply to that as he merely tore his eyes away and looked back to the wizard. "Bob," Harry began, uneasily. "I need to know so that I can prepare Roland." The ghost nodded, though he remained silent as the pale eyes fell downward. "What happened the last time?"

"I tried to hide her," Bob answered, softly. "I thought I only needed more time to fix what had happened. I didn't know then that it was already too late." The ghost was still, even as he spoke and as he continued, Harry saw that the figure was growing paler. "When they found us, she'd begged me countless times to let her end." There was a pause as the ghost released a breath. Without knowing it, Harry realized he'd been holding his breath as well. "They showed her a mercy that I refused her," he finished, almost inaudibly.

"Bob…" Harry knew the unfairness of the situation. That the ghost be all but forced to share the life he'd privately held to himself in the wake of a case. And the wizard wanted to tell him to stop and to never mind having to relive the past. That it wasn't necessary for Bob to remember the memories that seared themselves into his soul, more painful and agonizing than any curse. But there were little other options. "What if Ethan just stayed as he is now? What if he stayed normal?"

"It's never happened before, Harry," Bob replied. "He would be the first."

"Is there a way to tell if Sharon's spell worked?" asked the wizard. "With Kelton, you were able to feel inside and figure out what was wrong with him. Can you do the same thing for Ethan?"

"What would that do?"

"It'd be something we could tell the Council. If the spell was successful, they might not…undo it," Harry reasoned.

Bob looked over to Ethan again before turning his attention to back to Harry. "You'll have to ask his father," the ghost pointed out, tiredly.

Harry nodded, but tried to catch Bob's eye with a small smile. "Thank you," he said, gratefully. There was a slight beat before the wizard awkwardly continued, "I know this…it's been bad…for you and-"

"You've left it too long," Bob interrupted.

"What?"

The spirit nodded to something behind Harry. "The milk," he clarified. "It's boiled through."

Spinning around, the wizard saw the milk had all but evaporated in the pan, ruined. "Crap," he muttered, turning off the heat. He'd have to start again. But when he'd turned around to finish his conversation with Bob first, he saw the ghost was gone.

"Hot chocolate," Harry presented after his second attempt. He placed a mug of the sweetly steaming drink in front of both Roland and Ethan. The boy carefully blew on his cup before taking a tentative sip. "How is it?"

"Mmmm…" Ethan replied, taking a longer drink.

"Best compliment I've gotten," Harry grinned. As Ethan busied himself with the hot drink, Harry pulled a small flask from his pocket and waved it surreptitiously toward Roland who appreciatively held his cup out for a generous dollop.

"Are you really a wizard?" Ethan asked from the top of his mug. "Like, magic and stuff?"

"Ethan," Roland said with a slight warning.

"But Dad, he has it on his door," the boy protested.

"No, it's okay," Harry assured. He glanced at the two wardens who continued to stare at the trio, seemingly having only been given orders to observe and report. "I am," he admitted. "But it's not as fun as it sounds." Ethan didn't look particularly convinced. "I need to talk to your dad for a minute. Mind if I take him?"

"Uh, I'm not sure," Roland interjected for the first time. His hand had always remained on Ethan's shoulder.

"Roland, it's okay. We'll just be in the other room," Harry assured. "It'll be fine," he added, indicating the two watching wardens. But the former shop owner only looked stubborn and unrelenting as he stayed where he was. "Please, it's important."

There was a momentary war in Roland's eyes, but finally the dark-haired man nodded before turning to his son. "Ethan, I have to go talk to Mr. Dresden."

"Dad, I know. He just said," Ethan pointed out.

"Don't move from here until I get back, okay?"

"Okay."

"Promise me? Don't go anywhere."

The frown on Ethan's face only deepened at his father's continued odd behavior. "I promise." He continued to frown, but leaned in, nearly spilling the hot chocolate, when Roland pressed a kiss into his hair before getting up to follow Harry.

Kindly, the wizard positioned them down the hall so that Roland could face out and get a clear view of his son. "We need to talk about a few things," Harry began. Roland nodded mutely before suddenly pressing the hot mug against the sensitive underside of his arm. "What're you doing?" he asked as the man hissed at the painful contact.

"Sorry," Roland replied, scrubbing a hand across his face. "I just…I keep expecting to wake up. I feel like I'm in some sort of wonderful…nightmare." He looked up at the sympathetic wizard with a near pleading look. "This is real, right? Ethan's alive? Whatever Natalie and that woman did, it worked?"

"Yeah, it worked," Harry said, grudgingly. The hesitation was not lost on Roland.

"But something's wrong," he said, fear in his eyes. "Something's not right."

"We're not sure yet," said Harry, wanting to find some sort of balance between not panicking Roland, but not wanting to fool him into a false sense of security. "Resurrection is not a run of the mill spell that we do," he began. "It's forbidden for one. And it's never been successful."

"But it worked with Ethan."

"Bringing someone back physically is only half the problem. The harder part is making sure they're all here. Mentally."

Roland's untouched drink continued to steam as he thought over the evening. "You said something before, back at the warehouse," he recalled. "About how people had nightmares and that it made them crazy." Roland's already pale face grew a shade whiter. "Is that what's going to happen to Ethan?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "It usually starts an hour after the person comes back and it's been over that by now."

"Those people you were with," Roland asked. "When they come back are they going to take him away?"

"Maybe."

"Like hell," Roland whispered.

"Roland, they're not people you can fight."

"I don't care. Ethan's here. And he's my son. They can't just take him. They have no right!"

"Shh! Calm down," Harry ordered, looking over his own shoulder to make sure no one else heard. "The Council isn't your biggest concern right now. What they decide we'll deal with it then. But the bigger problem is to figure out if Ethan is going to get worse."

"And what if he does?" Roland asked, fearfully.

They'd reached the point in the conversation Harry had been dreading. There was no gentle or easy way of telling the man the choices available to him, or rather the only choice available to him should Ethan's mind start to deteriorate. But before he even had a chance to try and ease his way into the discussion, his expression had given him away.

"Oh my god," Roland breathed.

"Roland, you don't know-"

"No."

"Listen to me," Harry hissed. "I hope to god that it doesn't come to that. But I can't lie to you about this. And believe me, if the nightmares come for Ethan, it'll be a thousand times worse than dying. I promise you that."

"But how can you know that for sure?" Roland demanded, his hand shaking so much the hot chocolate now split a little down the side. "How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it," Harry answered, thinking about Kelton Franks. "And I have a friend who has too."

With forced calm, Roland set the cup down on Harry's counter, his breathing audible. "Is there a way to figure it out before it starts to happen?" he asked, quietly.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. My friend, the one I mentioned earlier. He can examine your son and see if the spell worked. He's kind of an expert on this kind of thing."

"How long will it take him to get here?"

A wry smile peeked out on Harry's lips. "Like a minute," he replied. "Listen, it's going to be a little weird, but don't freak out, okay?"

Roland laughed suddenly. Not his usual bitter laugh, but one that made it sound as if he found Harry's comment to be genuinely hilarious. "You're kidding, right? After tonight nothing can freak me out. Your friend can be a ghost for all I care."

"Funny you should say that…"

There was a different look to Roland Bennett since Bob had seen him last. It had been less than a day, but the man had a different aura about him all together. A sunny disposition was hardly ever going to be a part of Roland's personality, but it was the fact that Bob could now almost see Roland's personality that made all the difference. It was still swathed in old traumas and a grief that the man had not quite let go of yet. But underneath it, the ghost could see the living part of Roland Bennett, reaching up and struggling to surface.

Right now, Bennett was doing a good job of not gaping too much at him as Harry explained the logistics of what he proposed to do.

"It won't hurt him?" Roland asked.

"It'll be a little cold," Harry admitted.

"But you're going to be sticking your hand INTO Ethan's chest?" Roland reiterated, addressing Bob this time. There was still a look of protective distrust on the man's face. Something that endeared him to the ghost, rather than offend.

"If it would ease your mind, Mr. Bennett," Bob offered. "We can wait until your son is asleep." Roland continued to hesitate. "I promise to be as quick as possible."

"Alright," Roland relented, none too pleased, but willing. "When he's asleep." He looked back to where Ethan continued to dutifully sit, but was now fidgeting against boredom.

"When can we go home?" Ethan asked when his father wandered back out to join him on the couch.

Roland looked up at Harry, who didn't have an answer for him before he replied. "We can't, Ethan," he said, gently. "There was a fire. The bookstore's gone."

"What?" A look of dismay shadowed the boy's small face. "But…our house!"

"It'll be okay," Roland assured. For the first time since he'd returned, Ethan looked frightened. "We'll figure it out."

"But where are we going to sleep?" Ethan asked, hitting on a more immediate problem.

"You can stay here," Harry proposed, quickly. "Plenty of room," he said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. But the boy continued to look worried as he stared up at his father.

"Dad, is everything gone?" he asked.

"Our things are," Roland said, still keeping Ethan close. "But we can replace those. You're still here," he continued, his voice becoming hoarser as he thought about the uncertainty of the next few hours. "I won't let anything happen to you." He pulled back to look at his son's still anxious face. "Don't be scared, Ethan," he assured with more confidence. "Nothing bad's going to happen to you. I promise."

While the subject had shifted from the loss of their property to something else, completely. The assurance seemed to be what Ethan needed and the boy soon nodded, pressing himself closer to his father with the kind of trust children had for their parents. Seeing it, Harry remembered from experience that there was never a comfort quite so absolute as the one a child got from their loving parent.

As the night wore on, it was obvious Ethan was growing sleepier. He asked his father if it were possible to get a bedtime story read to him. While normally Roland almost always had books in his coat, he realized all his possessions were still at the police station and any other books he'd owned were now ashes. Harry had taken a quick look around his apartment and found nothing that would be appropriate for a boy Ethan's age. And he doubted one of the wardens would be willing to run out to a Barnes and Noble for them.

"This is all I have," Harry said, discovering the book he'd self-purchased back at Fallen Books before the place went up in flames. "Umm...not sure if it's usable," he added, seeing for the first time that it was the collected short stories of Oscar Wilde.

"It's fine," Roland said, plucking the rescued book from the wizard's hand. He ignored the irony of the first story being the "Canterville Ghost." He thanked Harry when the wizard offered up his loft upstairs. As Roland settled in to read to Ethan, Harry and Bob waited downstairs.

With the child now drifting off, the ghost wandered to stand just below the loft area, listening to Roland read aloud. There were periodically sleepy interruptions from Ethan who asked questions here or there about the story. But they grew less and less as soon he fell asleep. But even after losing his audience, Roland continued to read. Even without seeing his face, Bob could tell the pleasure the man seemed to be savoring at getting a chance to read to his child again. There was a reverence and respect to which Roland gave the act as he continued and eventually finished.

After an extended silence, Bob looked over to Harry who silently eyed the wardens. They were still observing them, but made no move to prevent the examination, their expressions betraying nothing. Shrugging, Harry nodded to the ghost who went upstairs, taking care to use the stairs instead of swirling up there, lest he startle Roland.

The man was half sitting, half lying down on Harry's unmade bed. Beside him, Ethan was cozily tucked into the blankets, breathing steadily. Bob saw the dark rings around Roland's eyes and the clear exhaustion from the day's events now catching up to him. But despite it, he was fighting to stay awake to keep watch over his son. The ghost remembered doing the same the first night Winifred slept, having only just returned. There had been the irrational fear that the only thing keeping her breathing and by his side was his own watch over. That should he succumb to sleep, death would return in the night and steal her away again. It had two days and nights before he'd finally allowed himself to sleep. But then he'd awakened to a different nightmare all together.

Gently, Bob cleared his throat.

Roland's eyes flickered up. "He's only just gone to sleep," he whispered.

"Then we can wait a little longer," Bob said.

Time passed as the ghost stood a little away from the two figures on the bed.

"Dresden said you're an expert when it comes to this," Roland said, quietly. "What does that mean?"

The question was expected and Bob kept his face expressionless when he answered. "I performed a similar spell when I was alive."

"Similar how?"

"I brought someone back. Only I was not completely successful," said the ghost.

Roland studied him, his tired mind trying to connect the dots without having to ask all the questions on his mind. "Is that why you're still here?" he asked. "Dresden said bringing someone back to life wasn't allowed in your…circles."

"He's correct."

"How long ago was that?"

"I think he's asleep now," Bob said instead, indicating Ethan's deeply breathing form.

While Roland hesitated, he relented to the spirit's evasion and nodded. Bob moved forward, kneeling down by the low bed on Ethan's side. The boy was on his back, breathing softly with an openly tranquil look on his face. Bob reached forward with one hand and slowly, but precisely sunk his fingers into the small chest. Ethan shifted a little at the cool touch, prompting Roland to soothingly stroke his son's hair. But Ethan continued to sleep as Bob examined him.

When Bob had examined Kelton Franks, he had been able to feel the wound left over from Sharon's work. Perhaps the first time his soul had attempted to heal itself, but the repeated deaths and reincarnations had left a permanent fracture in the man's essence that had ceased to try and repair. It had remained raw, gaping and painful.

But in Ethan, the ghost couldn't feel anything. At least, nothing unusual. Ethan had the essence of a normal, human boy. And while there was faintly, ever so faintly the barest hint of a wrinkle somewhere deep inside of him, the spell had been flawless. Ethan had been completely resurrected. Body and soul.

"It's perfect," Bob whispered, withdrawing his hand. Roland held his breath, staring at the spirit. As he held onto his overwhelming hope, the man missed the wealth of emotions that chased themselves across the ghost's pale face before he stood up. "Your son is alive," he said, walking further from the bed and keeping his expression hidden. "He's perfectly alive."