Chapter Six

Simon was standing out in the cold watching his home burn away. Huge flames, taller than trees, and glowing hot like the sun, ate away at his home. He blinks, a terrible feeling in his stomach as he watches it all burn away. He looks down at his small hands. They were drenched in blood.

Was it his own?

No, he knew it wasn't. It was-

"There, there now. We mustn't dolly," his grandfather spoke, patting Simon on his shoulder. The boy looked up at him, emotionless. The old man smiled, lifting up his wand, "Not to worry, my child. This all will be nothing but a bad dream."

Simon gasps as he sits up in a panic. He frantically looks around, finding himself in a strange room. Where was he? Where were Persephone and the children? "Persephone? Kids? Where are you?" He jumps to his feet, nearly tripping on his own boots, knocking them to the ground. He races to the door and yanks it open, screaming in surprise when he sees Wesley standing outside, chewing, with a plate of pancakes in his hand.

His cousin blinks, leaning back in alarm, "Si-on, somfin wong?" He asked through a mouth full of food.

"Wesley..." Simon deflates in relief, leaning on the door frame as if he had lost all muscle control. That dream... It wasn't a dream.

"Hey, Cuz, you okay?" Wesley asked, lightly shaking Simon's shoulder, making the redhead flinch and jerk away from him. "Dude, what's the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'm fine," Simon said, pulling himself together, "Just had a pretty bad dream."

"Awe," Wesley said with sympathy before he grinned and offered Simon the plate, "Well, pancakes always cheer me up. I got them from the inn's restaurant. They're super good!" He ushered Simon to sit down and flops back onto his own bed, sighing happily, "I can't believe we're this close to seeing everyone. I wonder if any of our old friends still live in that old neighborhood."

"How close are we?" Simon asked. He grimaced at the heavy flow of syrup that soaked his pancakes. It wasn't that he didn't like pancakes, it was that he wasn't a huge sweets fan. Simon didn't have a sweet tooth but Persephone and Chise did. Ari on the other hand seemed to tolerate sweets, just like Simon. Thinking of his family left a hole in his heart. He couldn't wait to return home.

"Another day's travel, maybe." Wesley shrugged, sitting up to beam at him, "We should look around and enjoy the views. There's a ton of places for us to see. You probably forgot a lot of this stuff so it'll be nice to go now memory lane, don't you think?"

Simon sighed, "No offense, Wesley, but I just want to get this whole adventure over with. I don't want to stay to reminisce the past, especially since it's all behind me." Or at least it should be, he thought.

Wesley frowned, "Well is it so wrong to look where you came from? I like to see the past as an honest attempt at making a sculpture. It isn't perfect, and has a lot of mistakes, but when you learn from it and can look back on it as a reference to better yourself."

"You sure are the optimist."

"It runs on my side of the family," Wesley boasts, his chest swelling with pride. He started to bounce a little on his bed, "Hey, do you think we should bring back anything for the kiddos?"

Simon chuckled setting his now empty plate down. Despite not liking sweets all that much, he was famished. "We can on our way back. I'm sure we'll find something to give to Chise, Ari, and Persephone."

"Man," Wesley fell back on his bed and sighed, "I have like a lot of shopping to do. I need to get you and Persephone an engagement, wedding, and pregnancy gift. And the kids a bunch of birthdays presents to make up for all the years I wasn't around. Jeeze, I'm going to be broke for the next ten years. Well, I could probably conjure stuff, but that isn't as fun as shopping, you know."

Simon laughed, "You don't need to do that, Wesley. We enjoy your company. You're here now and, well, I'm not sure what your plans are in the future, but I know that the children seem to adore you."

"Yeah, I've only known them for a little while, but I already love the little rascals." Wesley sighed happily, "Chise looks so much like your mom, Aunt Simone. Except her eyes are green. It's amazing."

Simon hummed in acknowledgment, "She has her mother's eyes. Which I'm grateful for."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Simon nodded, "I always thought my looks to be more associated with... blood." Blood all over his hands. Still warm and smelling like iron.

"Nah!" Wesley dismissed, "Your looks are from your dad, dude. He had the same thing, but it's cool. At least I think so. You guys both looked like vampires." He laughed, "You dressed like them too. Simon?"

So much blood was on his hands. But who's?

"Simon? Yoohoo! Hey, Cuz, snap out of it!"

Wesley's fingers snapping broke Simon from his tranced. The redhead winced at the painful ache in his skull. Wesley frowned in worry, "Your head bothering you again?"

"Yeah..." Among other things, "Do you still have that bag of..." He trails off as Wesley already produced the item in question.

"Yep!"

"And so, I said, 'Well that isn't what I was told you.' Ha! Our parents were so confused!" Welsey laughed, slapping Simon on his back, making the shorter man jump in alarm. Simon frowned a little, stepping out of Wesley's reach, "Right," the redhead said, "So I guess we were both in trouble afterward?"

Much to his surprise, his cousin shook his head, "Nah, I think our folks understood it was an honest mistake. I guess it goes to show that wording is everything. Still a funny story to tell though."

"I suppose," Simon really felt bad for not indulging in Wesley's stories more. He was just exhausted and a little short-tempered. That memories of his dream still replay themselves in his mind. What did it mean?

"Well, anyway, I'm famished, do you want to stop by Good Hunter's for some grub?" Wesley asked, "I haven't been there for a few months. It's super good!"

Simon's stomach growled in response. They should stop and eat. Sure magically conjuring food was convenient, but there was something about home cooking that made the meal much more pleasant and satiating. "Yeah, let's eat," He agreed and Wesley let out a loud 'whoop!' before taking them down a long dirt path off the main road into a rather dark forest.

It didn't take long before they stumbled upon a cozy little restaurant with a wooden sign hanging over the main door. "Good Hunter", it read in bold green paint.

When they came to the front, Wesley stopped and drew in a nice deep breath through his nose, moaning at the alluring aroma that made his mouth water, "Awe, this place serves the best food in all of the Ever Realm. I tell you!"

"It does smell good, "Simon admitted rather cautiously. He wasn't too sure about following a beaten path to restaurants in the middle of nowhere. Trouble could be brewing for all they knew.

Wesley touched his arm, "Well come on, Cuz. Let's go eat. I'm so excited to have those famous Sweet Rolls they serve. Oh, those are so good!"

However, before either of them could enter the building, a large man stepped out onto the front porch, slamming the wooden door shut behind him. He was huge with large gorilla arms and paws for hands. His head was small compared to his body and every inch of his arms was covered in tattoo sleeves. One of which Wesley recognized as part of an adventurers' guild.

"Don't think I've ever seen your faces before," The man spoke, taking a heavy puff of his cigar. "You here for food or trouble?"

"Food," Wesley said for them, offering the larger man a pleasant wave, "It's been a while since I last came here. I'm Wesley the Whimsical and this is my cousin, Simon the Silent."

The man grunted in acknowledgment, watching them curiously, 'Sorcerers? I don't think we've ever had any in the past. Pretty odd titles you got though."

"Yeah, but we're named by our personalities as you can probably guess," Wesley chuckled good-naturedly while nudging his quiet cousin.

Simon glared at Wesley. Why was he acting so friendly to this man? The guy looked like he was wanting to start a fight with them. Simon wasn't sure if he could meet the man with fists, but if pushed came to shove, he'll use magic instead.

"Oh, so you're the funny one," The man chuckled at Wesley, "Why don't you tell me a joke then if you're so giggly."

"M-Me?" Wesley asked, surprised, "Well um...'

"We don't want trouble," Simon said, grabbing Wesley by his shoulder, "We're just here to eat some lunch, and then we'll leave."

"Well if you want to eat then you need to make me laugh," the man said, smirking down at them, "I'll tell you what. If your friend here can make me laugh, I'll pay for your meals. How's that sound?"

"Couldn't you just let us enter?" Simon didn't see a reason for this man to harass them. They weren't causing any trouble.

"Nope. You gotta make me laugh first, buddy." He turned to Wesley, "Go on then, tell me a joke."

Wesley rubbed the back of his neck, his face a little pink with embarrassment. Simon feared that his cousin might say something stupid.

"Well I do have this one joke that always works," the blond said, grinning up at the larger guy, "So, a man walks into a pub and tells the bartender that he has something amazing, and if it impresses the bartender he has to give him a free drink. The bartender agrees, and the man pulls out a tiny, ten-inch pianist who plays beautifully.

"The bartender is shocked and then gives the man his drink. Afterward, the bartender asks where he got a ten-inch pianist. The man said, 'I have a tiny wizard in my pocket and he'll grant you any wish. If I get another free drink, I'll let him grant your wish.' So the bartender gives the man another free drink and says, 'Wizard, I wish for a million bucks.' And a million ducks rush into the pub.

"The bartender is furious and screams, 'Hey I wanted a million bucks, not ducks!' And the man said, 'Did you think I wanted a ten-inch pianist?'"

Simon choked on his own spit at the punch line. The man before them blinks and then bursts out laughing. He throws his head back, hands grabbing his large stomach as his whole body shakes. Tears actually drop from his eyes.

Wesley grinned and elbows Simon playfully, "Told you my joke would work!"

"That was the best one I've ever heard!" The man said, before offering them a handshake, 'I'm Martin, by the way, I run Good Hunter. Sorry if I scared you two, I just haven't had a good laugh in a while and needed one. That was hilarious!"

"Thank you!" Wesley said proudly, puffing out his chest, "So does this mean we get a free meal?"

"Of course, a deal is a deal, my friends. Let's get you boys something to eat."

'"Yum1 That was so good!" Wesly cheered while patting his now bulging stomach. "I told you that place was good."

Simon rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. The pub wasn't as bad as he originally thought. Many men and a few pretty ladies were there enjoying themselves, with a few girls flirting with him ad Wesley. Wesley was pretty oblivious to such things and brushed everything off as the girls being overly friendly. Simon on the other hand proudly flashed his wedding ring. It didn't take the women long to take the hint and move on.

"Yes, it was good," Simon said rather bluntly. He was a little tired. Martin had made sure they ate well, especially when Wesley told them where they were going and why. Simon felt that Wesley was too trusting. "Wesley, you shouldn't tell anyone why we're traveling."

"Why?" Wesley asked, cocking his head to the side, "They were just asking."

"I know, but they don't need to know." Simon didn't want to tell him how he still had enemies lurking about. In his past, he's hurt a lot of people and torn families apart because of it. A terrible thing that he regrets with every fiber of his being, even more so now that he had a family of his own. People talk. If the right person heard it then they could be in real danger.

"It's fine, Cuz. We're just passing by," Wesley said, patting Simon on his shoulder, "Relax, dude. There isn't anything wrong with socializing. You don't need to be so serious all the time."

"I'm serious all the time," Simon argued with a huff. "I just like to keep a low profile, that's all."

Wesley laughed, "Man, you haven't changed. Even as kids, you were always hanging back, never reaching out to play with anyone else besides me. I remember this one time you were upset about something. I don't remember what it was but you were crying and you didn't want to talk to anyone about it. I ended up sitting next to you and conjured up a cookie for us to share. You weren't a sweets person, but you still ate it."

Simon blinked. A glimpse of said memory played in his mind, just a small scene, with Wesley, as a young boy, handing Simon a chocolate chip cookie. "I think I remember that," Simon said quietly, it almost didn't reach Wesley's ears.

Wesley grinned, growing excited, "You do? That's awesome! And you don't feel sick either?

"Just a minor headache, nothing terrible."

"Oh." Wesley's smile deflated a little. He leans back to look up at the skies above them. It was still bright out. It'll be at least another hour before they got to a different inn. Hopefully, the sky will stay bright and open like it was now. A new thought crosses his mind, "I wonder why Sylvester erased your memories?"

Simon bit his lip, hugging himself out of habit, "We talked to him with Persephone's feather. He said that he had his reasons and that I should be grateful not to remember..."

Wesley frowned, "That sounds ominous. Maybe he's just trying to scare you, guys like him will do anything to have some kind of control over the people around them, and fear is their greatest weapon."

There was blood. It wasn't his. "I doubt it. I know my grandfather, he always has a reason for his actions. I just don't know if I'm ready to find out."

"Well we came this far, it would be a waste to turn back now," Wesley said, "Hey since Persephone's feathers can talk to the dead, did you contact your parents? Aunt Simone and Uncle Luther."

"No. And I don't want to." Simon wished Wesley would shut up. His cousin wasn't making this any easier. Simone felt he was walking on eggshells the closer they got to their destination and with it a sick, foreboding feeling that refused to leave him. Perhaps they should turn back. It would be a waste of time and energy, but the longer they were out here, the more he felt closer to his doom.

"I find that hard to believe. How can you not want to know more about your parents? I mean, you didn't remember me or them, what's so bad about getting to know your roots."

"Wesley, can we just drop this?" Simon begged, "I'm not in the mood to deal with right now."

Wesley shuts up, feeling he's hit a nerve. Perhaps Simon was getting another headache. He grabs his bag and offers it to Simon, but his cousin politely rejects it. It was obvious that Simon just wanted some peace and quiet.

An hour of silence and the sun started to set. They arrive at a small inn and rent another room for the night.

Just like the night before, Simon had the same terrible dream of being covered in blood. He woke up in a cold sweat in the early dawn, where the air outside was gray and tired. He got up from his bed and raced to the nearest window, pushing it open to let in some cool air to ease his troubled mind. Simon looked down at his hands and finds he's shaking. "What is wrong with me?" He asked himself, fighting back tears. And why was he crying? What is the meaning of this?

A terrible pain stabs through his skull, making Simon cry out and grip his head tight. It's so intense, it has him on the ground shaking.

"Simon?" Wesley awoke to his cousin's yell and raced to Simon's aid. "Dude, what's wrong?"

Simon cries out again. It feels as though his skull is breaking apart. Hot tears pour down his face, voice scream in his head.

"Simon, don't. Please."

"Son, snap out of it."

"My dear boy, you've done well."

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"Simon, Simon!" Wesley flips him over on his side and attempts to feed the magic beans again, nearly getting his fingers bitten off when Simon grinds his teeth. Wesley worked to get Simon to swallow, rubbing his throat. After several agonizing minutes, Simon's body relaxes, his joints unlock and he grows limp in Wesley's hold.

Wesley feared that Simon was dead until he heard his cousin groan his name.

"Wesley..."

"I'm here. What happened?"

Simon blinked at him, his eyes were pink with tears, "I'm afraid," he finally manages to say before drifting off to sleep again. Wesley frowns and drags his cousin back to his bed. Simon was pretty heavy, then again Wesley wasn't the fittest person. He was used to climbing trees, not carrying full-grown men around. It took some effort to put Simon down in his bed and tucked him in. He watched his cousin with great empathy in his eyes.

Wesley was scared too.

Some hours passed before Simon came too. He was a little delirious and was desperate for a drink of water. Wesley handed it to him on impulse, along with a plate of food. Simon ate in silence, still recuperating from his episode. "How long was I out?" The redhead finally asked after several long minutes of pure silence.

Wesley shrugged, "A few hours. People heard you screaming and one sent for a doctor. You're fine, but they don't know what caused you to get sick."

"Did you tell them about..." He genuinely hope Wesley didn't as it was already embarrassing to have alerted their neighbors.

Thankfully Wesley shook his head, "Nah, I wanted to respect what you said. I just told them that you were sick with something but I wasn't sure what. I managed to convince them that you were having an allergic reaction to some fish we ate at Good Hunters."

"Thanks," Simon sighed, he sets his empty plate and his cup down, "I'm sorry for worrying you, Wesley. I don't know what's going on. I keep having these dreams and they frighten me."

"What kind of dreams?"

"I don't know, they're dark and it always features me covered in..." He tenses, "...blood."

Welsey frowned, "Why didn't you tell me this before?'

"I don't know," Simon sighed aloud, "I'm not used to this, Wesley. Just a few months ago, I thought it was just me, Persephone, and our kids, and then you showed up and it's like frightening. I hate m grandfather, he stole so much from me. The fact that he kept me from my own family, from my parents, you, and everyone we once knew. You keep expecting me to remember something but I can't. I don't. I don't know you, Wesley. I don't know you."

He thought Wesley would start babbling about how they grew up together and suck. He thought Wesley would start to cry his eyes out and then yell how they were family.

Wesley did cry, but it could hardly be called that. A few measly tears slipped out as he offered Simon a genuine smile, one that said he was more touched than hurt. Why?

"I get it." Wesley said after wiping his eyes away, "Dude, I get it. And I'm sorry. I keep holding onto the past, even though I should just move on like everyone else. But... it's hard, you know. I want so badly to be a part of your life again. You and me, we were basically brothers, and losing you that day tore me up inside. I couldn't handle it. But you're right, you don't know me. Not like you used to, and I'm sorry."

Simon sighed, "It's not your fault. It's Sylvester's, he's the one who did this to us. I wish I could turn back time to prevent all this from happening."

Wesley chuckled a little, finding his response a little silly, "But then you wouldn't have met Persephone and had your kids. Think about it, Cuz. If you hadn't gone down the path you've been, then things would have changed. You might have married someone else. You might have decided to stay single forever. Heck, your kids now wouldn't be your kids, but someone else's. Changing the past doesn't fix the issues we're having right now, if anything it'll just create more problems."

Wesley was right. If things had panned out differently he would have led a different life and such a thought left him feeling hollow inside. Would he have met Persephone? Would they have ended up together? What if Grimtrix had one and killed her. He couldn't imagine it. "You have a point, Wesley."

Wesley chuckled, "Yeah, I know. Listen, we don't have to keep going if you really don't want to. I know I've been pushing you towards it and I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you. We can turn back now and head home. Pick up some gifts for the wife and kids, and be done."

Much to his surprise, Simon shook his head, "No, as you said, it would be a waste for us to turn back now. I'm doing this, not just to get my answers, but also to finally cut ties with my grandfather. If we return home now, he'll still have something of mine in his grasp. Dead or not, I won't let him win."

Wesley smiled, "You sound like Uncle Luther. He was headstrong like that."

"Well then like father like son, I suppose." Simon chuckled and Wesley joined him.

"Yeah," the blond said, "Wel then shall we continue onward? We have at least another day's travel before we make it to Tarry Town."

"Tarry Town" Simon inquired with a quirk of his brow. The name rang a few bells, and with it a minor ache that pulsed on the left side of his brain.

"Our hometown in Mezbez. It's near the borderline between countries."

"I don't think I've ever heard of it," Simon said. Wait, didn't Princess Sofia once tell him that King Desmond had been the crown prince of Mezbez? What a strange coincidence. So he was born in Mezbez? How interesting.

"There's a creepy legend about a headless rider," Wesley laughed, "Of course, it's just a silly legend that the locals like to tell to their kids and grandkids so they don't stay out too late."

Simon chuckled, he made a note to tell his children the story once this was all over. He knew how much Chise loved hearing bedtime stories.

Soon they arrived at Tarry Town, the place was bustling with merchants calling out their products, mothers pulling their fussy children along by the wrist. A musician was playing a silver flute near a large water fountain.

Wesley gasped in surprise, "Wow, this place has gotten huge! I don't remember it being this big before!" It could also be because he hasn't been back in a while, but Wesley was sure those shops over there weren't new. In fact, he could see a lot of new faces as well. "Geeze, it looks like I'll have to reintroduce myself to everyone. Right, Cuz. Cuz?"

Simon blinked and looked to Wesley with a quiet hum, "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

"Are you okay? You're not getting any more of those headaches again? I still have some more of that stuff, if you need it."

Simon shook his head, "No, I'm fine. I just need a minute to collect myself."

"Maybe you need some water or something." Wesley waved his hand, conjuring a chocolate chip cookie. He offered it to Simon, "Maybe you have low blood sugar?"

Simon chuckled and accepted the cookie, "I don't think that's what it is, but thank you for your concern, Wesley. You seem to know a lot about human remedies."

Wesley smiled and shrug, "Well when you're a traveling merchant, who lives primarily off the land, and can talk to plants. You learn a thing or two about these things. I could be a doctor, I guess, but then I would have to go to school and I can't pay attention to class to save my life!"

"Realy, I couldn't tell," Simon chuckled, he ate the cookie and looked around, "So where did we live?"

"Right up that road," Wesley points, to an old beat-up road that curved at the edge of town, leading up to a large hill near a mountain. "That's our old neighborhood. It'll probably take us thirty minutes to get there, so I hope you're okay."

"I just want to get this over with and return home," Simon said. He didn't know how to feel about this, any of this. So many new discoveries about himself that he should have known from the beginning. He felt robbed of his own identity. Not only that but the longer they remain here, the stronger the impending feeling of dread became. He couldn't quite place it. Was it because of his neighmare? Perhaps the ominous warning his grandfather left. Or maybe, it was the oncoming headaches that accompanied him everywhere he went. The feeling of nostalgia shouldn't be so painful for him.

Wesley nodded and led them up the old, neglected road to their neighborhood. Along the way, Wesley talked about everything he could remember. He recalled the lake nearby that was fun to swim in when the weather was warm. He grinned as he told Simon another story of their childhood, "One time, we were feeding ducks some bread crumbs, and this mean old goose, who we used to call 'Mavis' came running at us, honking like crazy. I guess we got too close to her nest or something. Either way, she ended up nipping me in the butt a few times. Geese are nasty!"

Simon chuckled quietly to himself, he couldn't remember that. Then again, who would remember that far back? Well, Wesley could apparently. "You seem to remember so much of our childhood," Simon noted aloud. Wesley nodded, "Yeah, well, it's hard to forget the best years of your life. When you disappeared, everything just fell apart. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me that you're still alive, Simon."

"I'm sorry you believed I was dead," Simon said, he reached up and patted Wesley's arm, "I hope that after this we can return home and become a family once more."

Wesley choked, his eyes flickering with tears, "Y-You mean, you want me to stick around?"

Simon nodded, 'Yes. The children adore you and I would like to get to know the person who I was so close to in my childhood. Plus, I'm sure you would want to visit Chrysta again?" He added with a smirk. Yet his cousin didn't seem to catch on.

"Yeah, she's awesome! I wonder if she can teach me some of those cool moves!" Wesley grinned, clenching his fist in excitement, "That'll be neat! Oh, and I need to figure out what the kids should call me. 'Uncle Wesley,' or 'Uncle Wes'?"

Simon rolled his eyes. It was obvious his cousin was the clueless one of their group. Then a new thought came to his mind. One that may or may not frighten him. If Wesley and Chrysta were to start courting, there was a strong possibility that he would have to call Chrysta his sister-in-law.

Simon frowned a little. He didn't disapprove, actually, Christa was already like a sister to him. An annoying older sister who enjoyed making fun of him during Persephone's courting. No, it would just be strange for a while that the crystal fairy may become part of his family. Perhaps Chise and Aristotle would start calling her "Auntie." That would also be strange.

As Wesley promised, thirty minutes passed before the two made it to their old neighborhood. The entire area had been taken over by nature. Grass grew up to their knees. Abandoned homes were torn apart by time and weather, with moss growing on their exterior. Doors were hanging by a corner or were completely gone, and windows had been smashed to pieces, with only a few sharp shards twinkling in the evening light.

Wesley and Simon paused at the edge of the road, most of it now gone, sinking into the earth to be forgotten. Wesley swallowed and walked to the second house closest to them. It looked like it had seen better days. He walked through the tall grass, keeping an eye out for any snake, before coming to the heavy wood door and rubbing his hand on its rough surface, "It's been so long, but I still remember it all clear as day." He smiled tearfully as he traced some carvings on the side of the door, they were tally marks, horizontal, to represent how tall he had gotten over the years. The numbers were still there as well, having been carved into the wood like a tattoo. To last forever.

"I thought it would last forever," he whispered more to himself, before turning around to find Simon gripping his head in pain. "Simon!" He raced over to tend to his cousin, Simon shivered and flinched away from Wesley's touch.

"I hate this," Simon groaned, grinding his teeth. He almost wanted to break open his skull to alleviate the painful pressure.

"It's just the spell." Wesley said, conjuring up his supplies, "Here take this, it'll help."

Simon wordlessly did, swallowing the beans that Wesley offered him. He leaned against a tree and sat down to gather his wits. Wesley sat beside him, rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry, Cuz."

"Why are you sorry?" Simon asked.

Wesley bit his lip, "Because I made a promise I would protect you. When we were kids and you were being picked on, I always ran in to save you. You were my little bro, you know. I promised you I would always be there, but the day you needed me the most, I wasn't. It's my fault that Sylvester..."

"Wesley, don't," Simon said, willing himself to ignore the pain in his head, "We were just kids. We couldn't have done all that much. I'm sure if you had intervein in some way, Grandfather-err, Sylvester, would have stopped you, probably killed you even."

"At least you would have had a chance to escape," Wesley sighed, drawing his knees up to his chest.

Simon shook his head, "It's just like you said before, that things wouldn't have panned out the way they had. If you had stepped in to stop him, I would have lost you. Someone who I saw as my older brother. I wouldn't have met Princess Sofia or Mr. Cedric. I wouldn't have met the Protectors, and I most certainly wouldn't have met Persephone and we wouldn't have had our beautiful kids. It's unfortunate that I wound up in Sylvester's care and I despise the man with every fiber of my being, but he's dead, and he will remain dead. That is nothing I would rather not change."

Wesley chuckled, "Yeah, you're right. Heh, and here I am being a hypocrite."

Simon smiled in return, "It's alright, we all have that moment."

Wesley smiled and took a deep breath to gather his wits. This wasn't about his issues, that could be discussed at a later date. Right now, Simon needed him, he would not leave him astray again. "Thank you," the blond said and took his cousin's hand in a firm handshake, "Let us continue onward. If you're ready."

"As I'll ever be," Simon said, still not sure about any of this. The closer they got the more frightened and confused he became, as if he was entering a forbidden area. They moved further down the road before coming to an empty field that stretched on for miles. Tallgrass playfully sways in a gust of wind that winds past the cousins. "This is it." Wesley said first, gesturing to the open area, "This is where you, Uncle Luther, and Aunt Simone lived."

Simon frowned, "But there's nothing here."

"It was all burned down the night you went missing."

"Oh," What a stupid thing to forget, Simon thought. He blushed with embarrassment. The wind picked up again, seeming to push them, and Simon swears he heard someone whisper his name, like the coo of a dove. It was a sweet, loving voice that was carried with the wind, gliding around him and tussling his loose hair.

"Welsey, did you say something?" Simon asked his cousin, but Wesley shook his head, "It must have been my imagination then," Simon took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He swears the air was growing thicker by the second.

Wesley noticed this and bit his lower lip, "Cuz, if you're not ready then..."

"I'm not ready," Simon admitted, trembling now, "But I'll never be ready. I need to know what had happened that night, Wesley. I must know or else I'll never be fully rid of that horrible man." Simon silently hoped that this wasn't the place where his memories had been wiped. He truly hoped that the spell wouldn't work.

Taking out his wand, and ignoring the horrible, pain in his skull, he uttered the very spell his grandfather had spoken: "Venite ad memorial et ite, reddite ad me quod meum est."

And Simon's whole world evaporated into darkness.

His memories finally unlocked:

Blood

Screams

Fire

Death

When Simon comes too, Wesley is sitting over him, shaking him awake.

"Simon! Cuz, are you okay?"

Instead of answering, Simon shoves Wesley away from him, knocking the taller man to the ground, "Getaway!"

"Simon?" Wesley is quick t get back up. He freezes seeing the frantic, almost feral look in Simon's eyes. Tears were streaming down his pale face, as he trembled and looked at his hands, "Stay away from me, Wesley..."

"Simon, what's going on?" Wesley attempts to get closer, reaching for Simon, but the redhead young man starts to sob, incoherent words slipping from his raw throat.

Wesley couldn't make out much of what Simon was saying, but he did manage to hear this:

"I'm a monster..." Simon then turns and races off as fast as he could, dashing away from Wesley.

"Simon, wait!" Wesley calls, already chasing after his cousin. However, Simon was much faster than Wesley and easily evaded him and disappeared into the woods nearby. Wesley came to a stop to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his face.

"Where... where did Simon go, please tell me." He begged a few trees. They rustled and Wesley's face turned ghostly pale.

At the edge of the forest was a cliff. As children, they were warned by their parents not to go that far or else they are liable to fall off. At the bottom of the cliff, there are nothing but jagged rocks and a tiny stream that flows through. Why would Simon...

No. Wesley choked on his own tears and tore off through the forest, "SIMON!"

"No please," he begged as he raced to catch up, tears blurring his vision. "Please don't take my family away again. Please don't take away my brother! Simon, please, this isn't right!"

AN: Next chapter is going to touch on a very serious topic that might be triggering for readers. So please read at your own risk. This will be the last chapter and part of it will not be for the faint of heart.

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