Notes: This fic is a follow-up to episode 11; I already did a follow-up fic to episode 11 last year, "The People on the Edge of the Night," and the second half of this fic takes place about a day after that fic. The first half of this fic is a flashback to Vincent's school days, and I had to account for one glaring anachronism—that Vincent insisted he graduated from "Terror Tech" in the year of 36… except the English language didn't exist back then. I borrowed an idea from tigerlily124 that the students gave the institution the nickname of "Terror Tech" (or, rather, the Greek equivalent). For obvious reasons, any dialogues in the flashback are meant to be in Greek rather than English. I sort of modeled Vincent's class (the Advanced Class) after the concept of Thors Academy Class VII from Trails of Cold Steel—a small-but-elite class of students trained mainly by one instructor; Instructor Endora is, indeed, meant to be the same character from Bewitched—her attitude towards mortals pretty much being the same here as there.

I introduce the remaining two members of Vincent's "gang" from his schooldays here; canonically, the only people from his past we've seen in the series are Voudini in episode 7, Byron in episode 3, and Boris in episode 13; I really wanted them to be a parallel to the original Where Are You gang (as they would've been the same ages), so I added two female characters who were also shout-outs to classic stars, Miranda and Alisa. Alisa is meant to be a shout-out/tribute to Elsa Lanchester, who played the Bride of Frankenstein (and I probably would've just named her Elsa had Ghoul School not beaten me to the punch with a clear tribute character to her). Miranda is meant to be a tribute to Gene Tierney, who was in the Gothic horror movie Dragonwyck alongside the real Vincent Price (her character there was named Miranda); Gene and Vincent were in multiple movies together, and it was almost a running gag that their characters would be engaged, but something or other would happen to end it, and so, as revealed in the narration for the second half of this fic, I sorta… carried on the tradition.

Lastly, the mention near the end of Vincent being ambidextrous but favoring his left hand is something that I noticed very recently—the animators in 13 Ghosts, nearly 8 out of 10 times, have him using his left hand rather than his right (most noticeably, in episode 8, when he conjures the quill and starts writing in the Book of Spells, he is writing with his left hand). That's an interesting quirk they gave him (and one I didn't expect or look for, as the real Vincent was right-handed), so I'm just gonna go with it.

Saronic Islands, Greece, Year 33—

The Saronic Academy of the Magic Arts was, colloquially, known among its students as Deimos Akademeia ("Terror Tech" as it would eventually translate to), on account of its motto—Gnōthi deimos, gnōthi seauton ("Know terror, know thyself"). The motto was to encourage young mages to face their personal inhibitions and temper their skills in the process.

The Advanced Class was no exception to this. Members of this elite class were chosen based upon their performance in their entry exams—it was a very harsh set of exams, and, thusly, there were some years where there were no students admitted to the Advanced Class at all. The previous year, however, saw the entry of a dozen students into the Advanced Class—six from Corinth, and six from Athens. A rivalry had quickly blossomed between the two groups of students, and it hadn't taken long for a definite winner to come out ahead—the Athenians, aided in no small part by the Academy's rising star, Vincent Van Ghoul.

The students were nearing the end of their first year, and Vincent, on the edge of seventeen, yet able to outperform members of the Academy staff, had found himself unchallenged by what the curriculum had offered so far. Nothing seemed to phase the boy—though, with the vast power he held, it was easy to see why. And, indeed, it was known that the boy was descended from a powerful—and feared—warlock from centuries ago, but after nearly a year at the Academy, it was clear that the boy's power exceeded that of his forebear. Furthermore, he was well aware of his talents, and took great pride in them—he didn't seem to fear anything, and, with power like that, he didn't really need to.

Dean Cesare had noted that the boy seemed oblivious to the fact that many at the academy feared him. Indeed, a year ago, when it had come to light that the descendant of Asamad Van Ghoul was to join the Advanced Class, there had been a large number among the staff who had all-out refused to teach it. Only one volunteered—Instructor Endora—and by the sheer mercy of the Olympians, young Vincent respected her and her teachings, earnestly listening to what she had to say.

For her part, Endora had taken a liking to the boy almost immediately once she realized that his heart lacked the malice that Asamad had been known to have. And everyone had been stunned when, after the students were set to choose their power stones after their first month of training, Vincent had selected an emerald—a stone that represented unconditional love and compassion, rather than any of countless other stones that augmented wisdom or power. It was a most unexpected choice for an overconfident teen who was proud of his power; even Endora had questioned his choice.

"It was as though it was calling to me," the boy had said, by way of explanation.

It hadn't made sense at the time, but as the year went on, Endora finally realized why; Vincent let his heart rule him ("Lucky for everyone," Dean Cesare had commented. "Lest he seek to conquer the Earth as Asamad had…"), and he sought adventures with which to enjoy life—the thrill of exploration and the satiation of curiosity. He entertained his fellow Athenians with his wit and ways with words, had a penchant for extemporizing poetry at times, and would be insufferably sassy towards his Corinthian rivals.

The approach of examination time caused no concern for Vincent, Endora noted, but his peers didn't share those same sentiments. She was in the student lounge, silently observing eleven of her twelve students hard at work preparing for their crystallomancy practical; Vincent, of course, being the one missing.

He eventually teleported in, cheerfully offering his fellow Athenians a plate of dolmas that he had either conjured or made himself. On the other side of the room, the Corinthians cast Vincent a few exasperated looks, but Vincent seemed to take no notice of them. But Vincent's five compatriots appreciated his efforts; the six of them were incredibly tight-knit, and in spite of Vincent clearly being the most powerful of them all, they didn't seem to bear him any ill feelings (well, for the most part; Endora could sense a bit of jealousy from Boris, but he did his best not to let it show).

"Vincent, these are truly excellent!" Miranda gushed. "They're just what we needed in the middle of all this studying."

"They certainly are!" Alisa added, grabbing a second to give to the raven perched on her shoulder. "Don't you think so, Pythia?"

Pythia cawed happily as she tasted the dolma; she momentarily flew onto Vincent's shoulder and cawed out, "Thank you!" and took a few moments to preen his hair in gratitude before flying back to Alisa's shoulder to eat more of the dolma.

"We sincerely appreciate your efforts," Boris agreed. "But, perhaps, you should be preparing for our practical—or else."

"I've found crystal-gazing to be as second nature to me as breathing," Vincent replied, waving a hand in dismissal.

"I wish I had your confidence," Byron sighed, as he took a dolma, as well. "…And your cooking skills—these are amazing!"

"I do try to give nothing but my very best," Vincent boasted. "That also applies to our upcoming practical."

"Well, if you think you're ready, then you can help me calibrate my palantír," Voudini said.

"That can wait; I have some exciting news!" Vincent returned. "I had teleported back to Athens to get the grape leaves for the dolmas, and you'll never guess what I saw!"

"Wait!" Miranda exclaimed, sounding almost as eager as Vincent. "Don't tell me—let me scry it for myself…!" She focused on her crystal for a moment. "…The mortals are preparing the Theatre of Dionysus?"

"Yes!" Vincent grinned. "They're reviving the plays of Aristophanes—and there'll be a dress rehearsal of The Knights tonight! I can sneak us all in; we can enjoy the show and have a night on the town…"

He trailed off at the less-than-enthusiastic looks on his compatriots' faces, and the smile faded from his face.

"…You don't want to go?" he realized.

"Vincent, our practical is tomorrow morning!" Byron pointed out. "If it wasn't for that, we'd gladly go with you."

"Not all of us are gifted with the talent and confidence that you possess," Boris added, a slight edge noticeable to his voice, prompting Alisa to gently elbow him.

Alisa then gave Vincent an apologetic look.

"I would've loved to go under any other circumstances, Vincent; but it is a dress rehearsal, right? Another night, perhaps, after our exams?"

Vincent now looked to Voudini, who also gave him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, my friend; I really must make sure my palantír is working properly for the practical. It's a bit different than a crystal, as you know; in fact, if you could help me…"

"Yes, I know," Vincent sighed, and he held up his crystal to Voudini's palantír, waiting as Voudini calibrated it. "Well, I suppose I can just go to the play myself—"

"I'll go with you!" Miranda suddenly exclaimed, getting to her feet.

"You will!?" Vincent asked, cheering up. "You're going the love The Knights, I promise; it's one of the greatest comedies…"

Voudini blinked, exchanging a glance with Byron as Vincent went on about the play, not at all realizing that Miranda was trying to capitalize on a chance for the two of them to be alone. For someone who let his heart rule him, Vincent was ironically oblivious to how the hearts of others saw him.

And Endora, who had watched the entire scene unfold from her vantage point in the room, could see the irony, as well. But something else had her concerned, and she knew she would have to put a stop to it immediately.

She walked over to the group of Athenians, clearing her throat. Vincent immediately stopped blathering and stood awkwardly—trying to stand at attention, but looking down to look Endora in the eyes, for, even at this age, he was already tall and lanky, and was already taller than Endora.

"You look upset, Instructor," Vincent observed.

"I believe 'concerned' is the proper word," she said.

"I assure you, Instructor, I am extremely confident in my crystallomancy skills; I wasn't trying to shirk my studies—"

"That wasn't it," Endora interrupted. "I'm talking about you, a warlock, cavorting around with mortals!"

"…What's wrong with it?" Vincent asked, genuinely baffled.

"What's wrong!?" Endora repeated. "Do you honestly expect that mortals will accept mages among them? They barely accept each other—and a lot of the times, they don't even do that!" She glanced at Miranda. "And you! You know that the mortals won't let a woman attend one of those plays of theirs, witch or otherwise! And if this Academy was a mortal establishment, you, Alisa, and I wouldn't even be allowed here as women!"

"I… I know, Instructor," Miranda said, as Alisa nodded in agreement. "I was going to use a perception filter so that I'd just look like a boy to the mortals…"

"And if you were found out, what then!?" Endora asked, looking at from them to the others. "All of you—what do you think the mortals would do to you if they found six teenage mages running around them!?"

"We've been around mortals before, Instructor—" Voudini began.

"That was before your mana had awakened," she interrupted. "Mana is a form of energy—mortals can sense it, even if they don't know what it is. And they fear it—they fear the notion of beings that have powers they can't comprehend!"

Vincent bit his lip for a moment; he respected Endora very much, but he knew he had to say something—

"Instructor… my parents are mortals," he reminded her, at last.

"No, they are not!" she quipped. "Your parents are a witch and a warlock who merely chose not to awaken their mana, thus living life as mortals would. They are still perfectly capable of awakening their mana if they chose to and becoming immortal like the rest of us—and, really, I would convince them to do exactly that!"

"But we do have mortal relatives," Vincent protested. "Distant cousins who don't have any mana at all!"

"Oh? And just how many of them have ever tried to contact you or even your unawakened parents?" Endora asked.

"…None," Vincent admitted. "But they are distant relations; that's probably why…"

"Don't kid yourself," Endora said. She cast a glance across the room at the Corinthians, who had been watching with interest to see their biggest rival being put in his place. "That goes for all of you, too! Are you listening!?"

"Yes, Instructor!"

"Absolutely, Instructor!"

"Good," Endora said. "All twelve of you need to learn this, and learn it well: as members of the Advanced Class, your powers are greater than most mages—and that means more reasons for the mortals to fear and distrust you. The best you can ever hope to be treated by mortals is to be merely tolerated by them; any kindness they might show you is motivated either by fear, obligation, or an ulterior motive to either use your powers to their advantage or find a way to suppress them so that you will no longer be a threat to them. And most of them won't even show you any kindness at all. You will never be accepted by mortals—never trusted, and never one of them! Have I made myself clear!?"

The Corinthians nodded, but the Athenians weren't so sure; Vincent didn't look convinced, and they were more inclined to side with him. Endora could sense this, and she tried a different tactic—resorting to logic.

"Vincent, look at it this way," she said. "Suppose that, one day, you found yourself afflicted with a dangerous curse—a curse that was threatening to end your life in a horrible way."

"I would find a countercurse," Vincent replied.

"And if you were unable to do so yourself and required the help of someone else?" Endora asked. "Who would you turn to for help? Mortals, or your fellow mages? Would you entrust your fate—your very life—to mortal hands, especially when you know what they think of our kind?"

"Surely they can't all be like that, Instructor…" Vincent said.

"Just answer the question, Vincent," she said, sternly. "Who would you turn to in order to break a dangerous curse upon you?"

"I would… turn to someone I could trust," Vincent answered.

"In other words, your fellow mages; mortals could never do a thing to help you, even if they wanted to—and why would they?" Endora finished. "I do hope you'll be more cautious, all of you, and spend as little time as possible around mortals—and hide yourselves as best as you can if you must be among them." She sighed. "Of course, I can't dictate how you spend your time, as much as I would like to, but I must, again, strongly advise against going to places run by mortals. …That will be all."

She returned to her chair, reading, yet keeping an eye on her students. Indeed, all she could do was warn them of the danger; with Vincent being the thrill-seeker he was, it was too much to hope for that he'd actually listen—and it was her concern that he would, one day, learn the hard way as to how intolerant mortals could be of mages.

Indeed, Vincent had turned back to the others with a shrug.

"Well…?"

"We do need to study, Vincent," Alisa said, not sounding surprised that Vincent still intended to go; his heart was too open to see mortals that way.

Voudini, Boris, and Byron nodded in apologetic agreement, but Miranda smiled at him.

"I still will if you will," she said.

"Even if you need to use a perception filter?" Vincent asked, teasingly.

"Even then," she agreed.

They teleported out after a quick goodbye to the others; Endora shook her head in disapproval.

"May Demeter look after those two fools…" they heard her sigh to her patron goddess, clearly worried.

Laguna Beach, California, Year 2015—

The memory of that day from his teen years was one of many that had flashed before Vincent's eyes after Rankor had cursed him with the petrification curse of the Eye of Eternity. The curse apparently had a failsafe, rendering the usual go-to healing spell, Esuna, useless. DeSpell hadn't worked to get past the failsafe, either.

Vincent glanced at his left arm now, flexing his fingers. How terrifying that, only a day ago, he hadn't even been able to do that, thanks to the curse. Once again, the conversation with Instructor Endora from all those years ago returned to his consciousness—

"Who would you turn to in order to break a dangerous curse upon you?"

"I would… turn to someone I could trust."

And so, he had. Endora would have been utterly confounded, however, to have seen that Vincent had reached out to mortals to save him, and not his fellow mages.

It just hadn't been practical to call his old gang; Voudini couldn't help him with Nekara having drained his mana, and Byron had never been the best at teleporting. Vincent wasn't even sure where Boris and Alisa were, and as for Miranda… he hadn't worked up the nerve to speak to her in a very, very long time. Oh, she'd finally managed to spell out her feelings for him once it had been clear that Vincent was too oblivious to figure it out for himself. They'd even gotten engaged after their graduation, but after Vincent's disastrous duel upon a mountaintop that had resulted in him losing control of his powers and vaporizing half the peak, he had begun to see himself as too dangerous to his old comrades—including his fiancée. He had pushed her away along with the others, the engagement off—and he'd avoided her ever since. If he'd called her for help, Vincent had figured there was a 75/25 chance that she would've actually helped him with the countercurse; he wasn't willing to risk that 25% chance, but he certainly couldn't blame her for it, considering how he'd left her as he had…

…Well, it was all moot now, anyway. He'd chosen to put his faith in his mortal apprentices, and here he was, saved and restored to flesh and blood again because of them, and them alone—proving Endora wrong (not that Mortifer wouldn't have done so, as well, but not even Mortifer'd had to deal with trying to break a petrification curse, and given his tendency to panic when Vincent was in trouble, perhaps that had been for the best). But the aftermath had left Vincent utterly stunned and surprised.

From his vantage point on the beach blanket that the mortals had laid out, Vincent now looked out upon the beach. Flim-Flam and the dogs were hard at work on a sand castle (Scrappy insisted it was a sand fortress). Shaggy was some distance away, having managed to hide a bag of saltwater taffy from Scooby and was now enjoying it without the Dane stealing it from him (for once), and Daphne was up to her ankles in the water, staring out at the sunset in almost a trance-like state.

He owed them his life (and not for the first time, either), but that hadn't been what had surprised him; those youngsters and dogs had been the most resourceful mortals that Vincent had ever seen—if anyone could've gotten the countercurse to him in time, it would've been them, and so it had been.

No, what had surprised him was, after they'd realized he'd been drained from trying to keep the curse from overtaking him too quickly, they had immediately fretted over him and had looked after him without any hesitation at all. Once again, Vincent had been reminded of Endora's warning—

"You will never be accepted by mortals—never trusted, and never one of them!"

Vincent hadn't wanted to believe it—and, indeed, Mortifer had been the first to challenge that belief. But it was after his death that Vincent found himself on the receiving end of mortals' hatred of mages, during the witch hunts. The witch hunters had proven Endora right, but, even then, Vincent couldn't blame them. They had been afraid…

…But he had been more cautious after that. Despite taking these five mortals under his wing and growing fond of them, he reminded himself of the disconnect. They were from two different worlds, and therein was what separated them—and he was sure there would always be that separation between him and those youngsters…

…Until last evening, when Daphne had seemed stunned at Vincent's assumption that they'd only helped him out of obligation and the practicality of making sure that the warlock on their side remained unscathed.

Apparently, that… hadn't been it. In fact, Daphne had seemed almost hurt by the assumption as she realized that Vincent truly had assumed that all the love and care he had to give them was one-sided, and that he had expected nothing in return.

He'd tried to deny his concern, but it had been too late; Daphne wasn't hearing any of it, and she'd made her position clear—

"And I told you, the others are like a second family to me. You're a part of that, too—don't you see that?"

But, he hadn't seen it, for Endora had to have been right about something, hadn't she?

…Apparently not. Daphne had even gone so far as to say that if this bothered Vincent that much, then perhaps it was best to cast an amnesia spell upon them so that they would forget—forget the nature of their connection, forget that they felt more than just mere obligation, forget that they loved him…

She'd been crying as she'd said that, or, at least, had been on the verge of doing so, if the crack in her voice had been any indication. And Vincent had stood there, thinking about everything that had transpired in the last year—realizing that they had enjoyed their evening in Marrakesh together as he had, that they'd invited him to stay at Daphne's house because they had wanted his company rather than just trying to appease him, that they'd wanted him to come along on that cruise for the same reason, that they'd put their lives on the line when Nekara struck just because they didn't want to lose someone they loved (and that, later, Daphne and Shaggy had been willing to allow Vincent to lose his faith in them solely so that he wouldn't have to be reminded of Nekara). And Daphne had been willing to suffer from the aftereffects of Maldor's curse in silence just because she didn't want to be a bother to Vincent—that she didn't consider herself important compared to him, and oh, Goddess above, just how expendable did she and the others consider themselves to be for his sake!?

…And, to think, it had taken him nearly an entire year to realize this…!

His head had spun just thinking about it—it still made his head spin. These mortals had only known him for such a short amount of time, and yet…

Vincent was suddenly distracted by a shout from Shaggy—Scooby had finally sniffed out the saltwater taffy and was now abandoning his sand fort building in order to chase Shaggy up and down the beach, trying to snag a few pieces of taffy from him as Shaggy protested that this batch was meant for him and him alone.

Daphne seemed to come out of her trance as she saw them running around behind her. With a sigh, she headed up the beach and into the grassy slope leading down to the beach, where Vincent was relaxing on the beach blanket.

"We've been neglecting you," she realized, sadly. "And after everything we did to convince you to come here with us, too. I'm sorry."

"You've all had a lot on your shoulders; I imagine it must not have been easy," Vincent said. Indeed, it had taken Daphne's wake-up call the previous night to get him to realize that, but at least he realized it now.

He was startled, however, to see Daphne on the verge of tears again.

"Daphne…?"

What had he said wrong? Why had he upset her?

"…I'm afraid," she confessed, her voice a shaky whisper.

"Afraid? Of what?" Vincent asked.

"…That this is just a dream," she said. "That the blimp we were on crashed somewhere near Salem, and I'm unconscious and dreaming all of this—everything that happened in Tibet last night and today. And when I wake up, I'll find out that it's too late, and you…"

"Daphne, I can assure you that this is very real, that you are awake, and that I am—truly—alright."

"I know," she said. "I know it, and yet… It's those 'what ifs' again, and how close we were to losing you… Losing you in such a horrible way, too, and so suddenly… You were fine one moment, and then, the next thing we knew, we only had 24 hours to find the countercurse…"

"And you did."

"But we almost didn't because of those two ghosts…!" She trailed off, unable to continue, and just hugged him again.

Once again, Vincent just sat there, not sure how to take it. He still wasn't quite ready to return the gesture, but he knew she needed comfort, and he gently placed a hand on her shoulder. To his relief, her trembling did seem to lessen.

"Raphne? Mr. Van Ghoul?"

"Like, everything alright?"

Shaggy and Scooby had headed over to them once they'd seen how distraught Daphne had been.

"No, but yes," Daphne said, with a sigh.

"Yeah, I get that," Shaggy said, sitting down beside them.

"Rheah, me too," Scooby sighed, also sitting with them.

It wasn't long before Flim-Flam and Scrappy also joined them.

"What's up?" Scrappy asked.

"Yeah, it looked like there was a confab going on here," Flim-Flam added.

"Not really," Shaggy said. "I was just thinking about how it's been… a crazy couple of days."

"I suppose it has been," Vincent agreed. "Nevertheless, I have the five of you to thank for making sure I got through it."

"Like, I wish you wouldn't say that," Shaggy said, looking away. "Or, at the very least, thank the others—not me."

"Why would you think such a thing?" Vincent asked, baffled. "You were just as involved in finding the mask that saved me."

"It's not that," Shaggy replied. "It's just… being thanked for saving you from a ghost that I set loose in the first place… It's like getting thanked for saving someone from a fire—only I was the one who dropped the match that started it!"

"…Rheah, me too," Scooby said, wincing as he looked away, too. "Rhou're right. Rhis was all our fault."

"It's just as much my fault," Daphne said, shaking her head. "I was the one who insisted on going back to that temple to find our plane—if I hadn't, those two ghosts wouldn't have tricked you into opening the Chest. And they wouldn't have tricked us again like they did yesterday."

"Alright, that's enough!" Vincent chided, causing the five of them to look at him in surprise.

"Mr. V?" Shaggy asked, surprised.

"If I had wanted to change what had happened, with you going to the temple and opening the Chest, don't you think I'd have used the Time Scepter by now and had it done already?"

"Yeah…" Flim-Flam realized. "You could've the moment we got the Scepter."

"We would have understood," Daphne said, looking at the ground. "I mean… We were actually thinking of doing that ourselves."

"You… you were…?" Vincent asked. His heart had skipped a beat, and he wasn't even sure as to why.

"Rhe didn't want to…" Scooby sighed.

"Yeah, we were hoping we could cure you first before we played around with that thing," Scrappy added.

"That's right; it was only meant as a last-ditch effort if we didn't break the curse on you in time," Daphne agreed. She was still looking away and had missed the look on Vincent's face. "At first, we were just going to use the Time Scepter to put us in a time loop and get us more time, but the more we thought about it, the more it just made sense to use it to go back and stop the Chest from ever getting opened in the first place."

"Like, it made perfect sense," Shaggy said. "So we thought…" He trailed off, being the first to notice the look on Vincent's face. "Uh… Was it something I said?"

"That would have changed everything!" Vincent pointed out. "This entire last year would never have happened! …Or was it that terrible that you'd prefer it that way?"

"No, Sir, not at all!" Shaggy exclaimed. "It's just that, this way, you wouldn't have to have suffered from what Nekara, Marcella, and now Rankor did to you!"

"I didn't like the idea of erasing the last year either, Vince," Flim-Flam sighed. "But, you know… this wasn't the time to be selfish."

"Yeah, you were in trouble, and we had to get you out of it somehow!" Scrappy said, sniffling slightly.

"We love you, Vincent," Daphne said, quietly. "And that's why we would've done anything to save you."

"Rheah, just like rhou would've done rhanything to save us," Scooby added.

He knew Scooby was referring to Time Slime's alternate future, when Vincent had been willing to sacrifice his life for them. And these young mortals loved him so much that they would've meddled with time and destroyed the very existence of that love in the process of the rewrite, content with knowing that it would save him. …Well, now he'd gotten an answer to his earlier musing as to just how expendable they thought they were for his sake; it was clear they would've just as quickly sacrificed their lives if they'd thought it would have helped him.

…As moving as it was to know that, it was still not a comforting thought—even if it would have left Instructor Endora gobsmacked to see it.

"…Don't you even consider doing something like that again!" Vincent said, at last.

"But you would've been saved!" Shaggy protested.

"Only temporarily," Vincent pointed out. "Once they'd lost you, those ghosts would have just waited for someone else to open the Chest—someone who might not have cared about recapturing them or even given me a second thought. Nekara and Rankor would have come after me anyway—and how long do you think I would've lasted against them alone?"

"So, you would have suffered either way…" Daphne realized, her heart sinking.

"…I wouldn't call this 'suffering,'" Vincent returned. "A moment's peace beneath the stars, by the oceanside—with all of you here to share it with?"

He glanced up at the stars for a moment, which were beginning to show up as the dusk darkened into night.

"It's true; we've been through a lot in this past year—good and bad. And I certainly didn't enjoy the bad times, any more than you did. But, the good times… I wouldn't trade them for anything," he finished. "So, don't you give them up, either."

Sentimental words didn't come easily for him anymore—lack of practice, perhaps, after spending nearly three centuries alone. This was the best he could manage for now, even though he wished he could articulate more as to how he felt towards them. They deserved that—deserved to know that their concern and care was returned, for Vincent reminded himself of how he had felt all this time when he had mistakenly thought that his concern and care had been one-sided.

He glanced back at them now. They were all just glancing back at him, each still having that same I can't believe you're here and okay expression. Vincent's own expression softened.

They knew—he could see it in their eyes. Thank the Goddess that they weren't as oblivious as he had been…

He extended his left hand to them, and they all reached out to take it in theirs. Vincent was ambidextrous, but he certainly favored his left hand—and for a mage to offer his dominant hand in such a way—meaning that he couldn't use it to cast any spells—it was the ultimate gesture of trust that he could make at that moment.

They didn't move, aside from gripping at his hand and wrist (he could feel one of them—Daphne, most likely—double-checking his pulse), but they did so with the unspoken promise that, indeed, they wouldn't trade this away; they didn't even say anything, and yet, Vincent found that they were much more at peace—and so was he.