Bill (and we'll call him Bill because that was his name even if you didn't know it) quietly poked his head into the room and looked around. Gone were the toys, posters and furniture that had been here when it was his childhood bedroom. He hadn't even looked at it during visits to his parents; they had told him a couple of years ago that it had been redecorated as a guest room, but he had declined the invitation to take a peek. He really didn't have any interest in the room.

What he DID have interest in during this visit was who the guest was now. Lying on a bed with railings that definitely hadn't been his was the frail body of his grandfather. He looked even more fragile than when Bill had first seen him in the rehabilitation facility five years ago. His grandfather had recovered well enough, but age was catching up with him. No, it had caught him and had a firm grasp of his arm, refusing to let go.

He looked at the various items beside the bed, provided by the hospice care. They said it was just a matter of time now, but his grandfather held on stubbornly. Still, it might well be the last opportunity he would be able to see him, so a few days off from work were arranged in order to make the journey. Now, after hours on a plane and even longer at airports and car rental counters, he was in no mood to disturb the rest someone else was lucky enough to be getting. He eased the door closed but heard a muffled "Hello?" from inside.

Reopening the door gingerly, he looked back in to make sure it had been his grandfather. The man had his head turned and was looking at him. "Sorry I woke you," Bill apologized.

"No, you didn't disturb me. I was just resting my eyes. Come on in and shut the door behind you."

Bill let himself into the room and shut the door as requested. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"How do I look?"

Both answered at the same time "I've seen worse," before the grandfather smiled. "I'm glad someone gets that joke," he added.

"One of the classics," Bill added. "I wanted to come see you."

"Before I died. Yeah, good timing. Now before you object, let me tell you that I'm almost ready. I've had a long life, more of it healthy than not, and I've got nothing to complain about. Well, I could complain about the stuff on the television but I just turn it off when your mother leaves the room. I've got a good doctor – he tells me the truth. And your mother takes good care of me. It's been a good run."

"What do you mean almost ready? Do you need me to do something? Do you need to speak to somebody?" Bill asked. As a child he initially thought his grandfather was someone who he probably loved, but didn't want to spend a lot of time with. One day he had gotten sick and the man had come over and read an extraordinary book to him – and after that his father's father was quite possibly his favorite relative of all time.

"Actually, you saved me a lot of trouble. I couldn't figure out how to give you something, but now that you're here I don't have to have your mom or dad write out directions. It's not like I can answer any questions after I'm gone."

"No," Bill said with a slight smile "I guess you can't. That WOULD be a miracle."

"Right. Do me a favor and help me sit up. This bed's pretty tricky. There's a lever on the left over here…" he went on and was able to direct his grandson enough to raise the bed up. "That was exhausting. Let me catch my breath a moment. Now, if you would please, hand me that white box over there." He weakly pointed over at a desk by the window and Bill picked up a small shoebox and brought it over. "Now put it in my lap, please. There's something I want to show you. And hand me my glasses."

Bill took the liberty to remove the lid and place it on the blanket beside the box. He could see some papers inside as he handed his grandfather the glasses.

"I keep asking your mother for stronger glasses down at the drugstore but she says they don't have them," he said as he reached for some papers. He moved them farther away and closer to get the right focus. "There we go. You know, I really did like your story about Humperdinck and all the gang. You might have got a few things wrong, but you got a few things right too."

"Wrong? What could I have possibly got wrong?" Bill asked as he pretended to be offended. "That story was meticulously researched. Well, not so much researched as made up of course. It isn't REALLY a sequel."

"You did good, don't knock it. If it walks like a sequel, talks like a sequel and smells like a sequel...but Westley and Buttercup DID have a child, except it was a boy and his name was George. Well, they had a pair of kids actually. They had a daughter too and her name was Frieda. But let's stick with George. He grew up to be a farmer – didn't want anything to do with the ocean, much to Wesley and Buttercup's delight. I think they both had enough of pirates and the sea."

"Well, George grew up and got married to a beautiful woman named Rebecca and had HIS own family. His daughter Sylvia Ann grew up and met a traveler and fell in love with him. He was from England, and with George's blessing the two got married and went to live in England where a lot of English people live. I think he ended up earning a trade in the shoe business. Or was it barrels? No, it was definitely shoes. So, Sylvia Ann and George – you see, he had the same first name as his father-in-law and maybe some think that's why they got along so well – had a family of their own and had twin boys by the name of Robert and Samuel. Robert died with he was still a baby, but Samuel grew up and decided he wanted to make a fresh start in America. He went to apprentice in a factory in New York City where he met a girl by the name of Henrietta and they fell madly in love." His grandfather whispered as he shifted papers, "I think that was something they all got from Westley and Buttercup, like if all the people in your family have blue eyes or six toes. Now where was I?"

Bill noticed that although his grandfather had paper in front of him, he was hardly referencing it at all. "Samuel and Henrietta."

"Right. Well, Samuel heard about the gold rush in California and told Henrietta he was going to bring a fortune back for her. She told him that if he was going then she was too, and that was how they both found themselves far from New York. They found gold alright - they ended up making their money by selling supplies to other prospectors and fortune seekers. Now that the family was well off…did I mention they had three kids?"

"No."

"Sorry. They had Ian, Abigail and…er…oh yes, Jacqueline who was the youngest. They all packed up and moved to the Hawaiian Islands, long before it was a state. They stayed for three years as missionaries before moving back to the mainland - Samuel liked being a missionary, but the political climate was another matter. When the kids grew up, Abigail married a carpenter by the name of Stan. Then let's see…oh yes, they had two kids named Jack and Sarah. I think you know the rest from there."

"The rest of what?" Bill asked, confused.

"I think that's a problem with this younger generation – most of them have no appreciation for genealogy. When Abigail got married to Stan, she took the last name of Stein. Abigail's maiden name was Morgan. It was the family tradition to tell stories of how Westley and Buttercup first met, and Abigail felt it was about time to put the story down in writing so not only would be easier to keep, but that way nobody would forget any of it. She combined her daughter's first initial with the birth names of her and Stan. That's how we get the author S. Morgenstern."

"Shouldn't it be Morgenstein?"

"It should, but there was a misunderstanding, so the name got changed. It's mostly right. So Stan read it his son Jack, and when Jack got married and finally made a fair living as a fisherman he read it to all his kids, including his son Claude. My father."

"I thought my great-grandfather was named William."

"That was his middle name. He never answered to his first name. So he read it to me many times. The best time is when the audience is sick because it cheers them up and they're not very likely to get up and leave before you finish. So I read it to your father, and since he wasn't particularly interested in reading it to you I did. I hope he would have gotten around to it eventually, but you were sick and I though it would cheer you up too - once you got over the the fact it wasn't some fancy video game. Now, I'm passing the book and the family tree to you. Read it to your daughters when they get a little older, and pass it to the one you think is worthy."

"So…" Bill said, digesting this latest bit of information "…I'm descended from Westley and Buttercup." It was a half statement, half question.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a great story. But it's OUR story. Yours, your dad's, mine, and everyone all the way back." The grandfather put the yellowed papers back into the box, along with his copy of the book. He replaced the lid and pushed it toward Bill.

"I'll…ah…take good care of them," he managed to get out.

"I know you will. That's why I picked you. Don't let me down."

"As you wish."

...

It was weeks after the funeral that Bill finally opened the box. He carefully pulled out the papers, laying them aside - they would need to be photocopied so these could be put away safely. He removed the book as well - the same copy that his grandfather had read to him many years ago. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down into the box and saw one more item that had been lying under the book. Pressed flat on the bottom was a piece of black leather, somewhat oval in shape with two holes cut out. Very shoddy leather lace ran in a loop from one end to the other, but it was exactly like he imaged it must have been.

What symbolized the end of a career in piracy also stood for the beginning of a family heritage.

THE FINAL END

A/N: I'm finally calling it with this addition. There certainly are other possibilities to add to the story, but I wanted to bring it full circle to tie it all up in a bow. Not only do I feel the most connection to this story, but as my longest work it also has the most love and sweat poured into it. I think I can safely say I will add no more chapters.

Now if I get an idea for a standalone story then it's another matter entirely...