Chapter Text
Simon barely slept that night. He should have sucked it up and slept in the forest where he had a view of Baz's house. Worry gnawed at his bones until 3 in the morning, until teeth grinding and knife twirling tired him out, and he eventually collapsed on top of his musty bed, not bothering to climb under the blankets.
The frigid morning air helped him wake back up at 6 a.m. anyway. Simon still couldn't work up the guts to tell the nice lady at the front desk that he broke the window and he didn't really have the money to pay for it. Surprisingly, a secret organization that revolves around the murder of mythical creatures doesn't drag in a lot of cash. Simon only had enough for gas, food, and paying rent for his tiny apartment near headquarters.
Simon woke with the sun, shivering and instantly filled with adrenaline and fear because oh god, the boy I might love could be killed any second for no good reason. He quickly washed up in the bathroom, threw on fresh clothes, and began to clip his waist and arm sheath on. Simon was bringing multiple weapons today and for once they weren't intended for anyone not-human.
Simon needed to be awake and he needed to be ready for anything. After making sure everything was secure, Simon shrugged on a cheap, baggy zip-up hoodie to conceal the weapons, slipped his cap over his hair, and left the small room.
He manoeuvred silently through the inn, familiar enough with the stairs that he knew which floorboards creaked under a certain amount of pressure, and slipped out the front door into the early dawn.
Simon welcomed the cold slap of air across his cheek, waking him like a shot of espresso injected directly into his veins. The sky was baby blue, the sun hidden by the horizon. Rays of light fanned out, interrupting the solid colour, and melting the near-frost on the grass. It was early summer (if you were an optimist) and yet the mornings were still freezing.
A layer of mist hung heavy in the air as Simon snuck down the alleyway to the parking lot behind the inn. As nonchalantly as possible, he scanned the lot and found the other assassin's car parked a few spots from Simon's.
Simon's breath of relief materialized in front of him in a puff of mist. They weren't awake yet, waiting until the town was alive so they could question some more old people and then investigate Baz's house. Investigate Baz. And realize he is the target. And then try to-
No. Nope. Present moment. Do not think ahead.
Simon spun on the spot, deciding it was safer to walk to the Grimm-Pitch manor. If the assassins hadn't recognized Simon's car yet, they might pay attention if it was parked near Baz's house. Or in his driveway. Yeah, walking was the best bet.
It seemed the whole town was still asleep: No cars cruised through the streets, no children cackled on the monkey bars of the town park, no parents gardened, and no old ladies sat out on their lawn in lawn chairs like they were at the beach and not in the middle of New Hampshire.
Nonetheless, Simon kept his head down, shoved his hands deep in his pockets, and walked the now-habitual path to Baz's house. He didn't want to risk being recognized by any of the people he had met and spoken to on several occasions. They all knew him by name at this point; if they caught sight of him and yelled "oi! Simon!", and the two assassins from the organization found him... well. If word got back to The Mage that he was blatantly disobeying orders, there would be... undesirable consequences waiting for him back home.
By the time Simon got to the long, empty road that held the manor, he had a crick in his neck from staring at the pavement for so long. He rolled his shoulders and squeezed his muscles. He would most likely be spending his entire day squatting in bushes and trees; this would be the last time for hours that he'd be allowed to stretch. Technically he's been in worse spots. Once he had to hide in a werewolf's closet for 8 hours. It was unpleasant and ironic.
When he finally arrived at the bottom of the drive, he cut into the forest. Simon wasn't going to blow his cover by walking up the driveway because it would be easier on him.
Simon took the same route as before, treading carefully rather than stomping carelessly like the day before when he thought the assassins were going to strike early. He avoided a plethora of scratches that way.
After 15 minutes, Simon had made it to the manor and found cover nearly parallel to the front door. That way, when the assassins showed up (and Simon knew that they would) he would have the perfect view. Thankfully, the forest had crept dangerously close to the manor, so the bramble he hid behind was close enough for Simon to (hopefully) hear voices if there was a conversation held at the front door. Simon hoped to god that Baz wouldn't recklessly invite the assassins inside as he had invited him. That might speed up a process that Simon was doing everything he could to halt.
Simon needed to get comfortable. He would likely sit in the same spot for the next 9 hours. He had his fully charged phone, a flask of water, 3 power bars, and 4 weapons with him. He was prepared for the stakeout.
He patted himself down, double-checking that his knives were in place. His dagger was strapped to his arm, his machete and modern bowie on his waist, and his switchblade down the side of his boot, just in case. Simon didn't care for guns, although they probably would have been good in this case. Guns were loud, unpredictable, and barely killed any creatures. Knives and swords on the other hand, well, Simon had full control over those and they couldn't let you down unless you made a mistake yourself. Simon was better at hand to hand combat anyways, and if he really needed something long-distance he could just throw one of his knives. He was trained in knife throwing too.
Sure, he had a gun with silver bullets for werewolves, but it was back home. Plus, if he had to jump in here, Simon couldn't shoot from this far away, especially if Baz or one of Baz's family members were standing too close. If he accidentally hit them... Simon wouldn't be able to forgive himself. Simon was risking everything so that he could save Baz, and he had to be as safe as possible.
—
Simon sat on the forest floor all day. He was running on 3 hours of sleep, two power bars and a few sips of water. His body was on autopilot. The aches in his lower spine and shoulders faded in his mind as he stared at Baz's front door.
Unsurprisingly, the Grimm-Pitches didn't get out much. Simon watched the house from 6:00 until 1:00 (according to his phone) and the front door did not open once. Simon, after staring at the silent mansion for so long, was excited when he finally heard young voices filter from the backyard. They lasted 10 minutes before vanishing again.
It was summer for fucks sake, and there were 4 children in that house that were (assumedly) not vampires; how on earth did children spend their summer inside? The day, while it started chilly and dreadful, was now delightful. Sun filtered through the leaved beaches above Simon's head, and a cool breeze interrupted the heat. The sky was cloudless. Any other family in this town would be having a picnic on their front lawns and kiddy pools set up for splashing. Sprinklers would be set up for dogs and children alike to run through. Simon could almost imagine the happy laughter and shrieks from his lonely seat in an abandoned forest.
Baz's family didn't really match the town's atmosphere: quiet and homey. If anything, the family screamed "WE ARE THE ONES HARBOURING A VAMPIRE!", placing Baz on display for all to see.
Simon had nothing but time, sitting on moss and leaves in his old roommate's forest, stalking said roommate. He couldn't help but think about the past 3 years of his life. About every vampire he had murdered that was the same as Baz. About the families he had broken up, about the significant others he had stolen, a best friend killed.
How was it that Simon only realized it was wrong when he was directly involved? After everything he had done? How could he ever forgive himself?
Penny was right. She always was. Simon knew from the beginning that she was. The organization was committing mass genocide. Simon was nothing more than a glorified serial killer who was deemed a hero.
Penny was right. The organization was a cult. What right did Simon have getting involved in others' lives? Who gave him permission? He wasn't the law, and neither was the Mage.
—
Thankfully, Simon's boredom was interrupted at 2:00. Unfortunately, it was the men from the organization.
Simon had been lounging on the ground, head tilted back, staring at the dots of blue sky through the canopy of tree branches above him and dragging his dagger lazily through the dirt. Apparently, Baz's boring as all hell family provided for good spying, as Simon could hear the assassin's car long before it came into view. Simon lifted himself into a squat, making sure he was covered by the brush in front of him. He placed one hand in between his legs to keep him steady and clutched his dagger tightly. If the investigators decided to infiltrate the manor based on rumours alone, would Simon be able to stop them in time? Could he make it to the front door before they killed anyone?
The organization's car pulled up the driveway slowly. Simon watched both men through the side window as they peered up at the massive house, probably thinking, "this definitely seems like somewhere a vampire would live", like Simon had because honestly, the house was one huge stereotype. Simon would have to tell Baz that, once they were out of this mess. If they got out of this mess.
Fortunately, the men decided to be civil, walking up to the door and knocking politely, rather than busting through a window and wreaking havoc. They even used the unnecessary door-knocker, which was more than Simon had ever done. The knocker was stupid, although, so was a door so thick that when you knocked on it, it bruised your knuckles... no one wins.
Simon leaned forwards as much as he dared, peering through the branches of the bush. The two men had taken a step back, conversing quietly and looking around the property. Simon stopped breathing when the man closest to him looked his way, but after a moment his eyes travelled back to the manor. Simon exhaled in relief.
A few moments later, the door swung open. Baz must have thought Simon was the one at the door because he had his trademark smirk on his lips and a sparkle in his eye. As soon as he caught sight of the two men, the smirk was replaced with a blank stare.
Simon hoped to god the men weren't hiding weapons in their belts. If one of them had a gun in their waistband, Baz would be on the ground in an instant and there would be nothing Simon could do.
Baz looked the men up and down, nose slightly turned up like he was judging the brand of their ironed shirts. When Simon was working on a case, he stuck to his disguise. What animal control workers are clean-shaven with dark shades and clean leather shoes? At least they weren't wearing full piece suits.
Simon wondered if Baz could sense something was wrong. That these two men were dangerous, and that he had to be careful about what he told them. Albeit, Simon was in that position a week before, and Baz had invited him in and let him use his shower... not so promising.
Simon, thankfully, was close enough to the house that the three monotone voices were audible.
"Hello?" Baz asked stiffly, shifting back half a step. Simon noticed that he was wearing those gold-rimmed glasses again, framing his wary eyes. He tried to ignore the way his heart squeezed with appreciation. Baz was truly-
"Good afternoon," one of the men said gruffly, "is this the Grimm residence?"
"Yes? Who are you? We don't buy girl guide cookies." Baz seemed pissed off. Simon wondered if Baz was upset because it wasn't Simon on his front step. He had a hand on the door like he was waiting for a reason to slam it in their faces.
"We're with animal control, for the recent animal deaths around town- coyotes, we assume," the man closest to Simon explained, not thrown off in the slightest by Baz's girl guide jab. "Some neighbours believe they live in this side of town, perhaps on your property, within the forest?"
Baz narrowed his eyes skeptically. Well, Simon had given him the same talk a week earlier, and then had a mental breakdown about how he wasn't actually animal control a few days after that so... it wasn't that hard to tell that something was wrong. Plus, Baz was scarily smart and calculated. If anyone could put the pieces together, it was him.
"There are no coyotes in our forest, we had it checked two months ago when someone first complained. It must be farther east," he replied, making intense eye contact, challenging them.
"Apologies, sir. Is there any chance you've seen anything around the other parts of town?" The other man asked, already sounding suspicious. This was not good. Baz was too defensive, his posture was too straight; it was going to give him away. No one normal would be wary of animal control.
"No, not recently. It seems to have died down, at least from what I've seen," He frowned, looking the men up and down again.
At that moment, Simon's foot cramped, and he had to shift carefully. The movement was enough to catch Baz's attention (Simon knew those glasses were for show) and they made eye contact. Simon didn't know if the panic was showing on his face, or if Baz had really good intuition, but Baz immediately looked back at the men, schooling his face into something relaxed and relatively normal.
"Is that all? You could always search my backyard again, but someone came by last week as well, and they found nothing," he forced a smile, dropping his shoulders. Simon could tell Baz was trying his best not to look over at him.
"No, that's alright, thank you for your time," the man closest to Simon said, nodding at Baz politely.
"It's alright, have a good day," Baz waved them off.
They may have seemed satisfied with Baz's words, but Simon saw the look they gave each other as they strolled back to their car. Simon saw the glint of a knife in one of the men's waistband as he opened the driver's side door.
They found their vampire. Who knew how long it would be until they struck.
In retrospect, Simon would have found Baz just as easily if it wasn't Baz. Simon was blinded by his feelings, by how he cared about Baz. All the clues were there.
Simon knew what they would do next. The men would watch the manor for the rest of the day, stalking Baz's movements, and if anyone in the family did anything suspicious, anything to suggest they were not human, they would attack. Simon couldn't leave. He needed to make sure the Grimm's stayed inside, and not let Baz do anything without Simon next to him- which would be difficult, considering Simon couldn't be seen mingling with Baz.
Baz watched the men get in their car and back out of the driveway. When they were out of Simon's line of sight, Baz looked back at Simon, catching his eyes. He eyed the car one more time and then shut the comically large door.
Less than 30 seconds later, Simon's phone buzzed against his thigh.
Baz: would you like to explain why you're hiding in my bushes like a pervert?
In any other situation, the words would have been funny. Unfortunately, this was serious.
Simon: don't leave your house, you're the target. Meet me at the pub at 6. Drive don't walk.
Simon always had a way with words. He didn't want to explain any of this over text. It was the sort of situation you had to talk about in person. Plus, for all Simon knew, The Mage could have his phone tapped.
It was easier to be brief. Baz was straightforward, he would probably appreciate it.
Baz: I never walk anywhere moron
—
Simon didn't leave his post until 5:30, half an hour before he was supposed to meet Baz. He didn't want Baz to show up at the pub before him and run into the men, but he didn't want to be away from Baz for too long. Technically, if they tried to block him on his way there, Baz could just hit them with his car...
Simon stuck to the forest, just in case they were outside Baz's driveway until he was in one of the neighbourhoods. He jogged back to the Knights Inn, sprinted up the stairs and quickly changed out of his stake-out clothes. He kept his modern Bowie strapped to his waist under his shirt, just in case, and flattened his hair with the baseball cap once more before running down to the pub.
Simon grabbed the booth at the very back of the pub, as far away from the door as possible, and kept his head low as he waited for Baz
For the first time since Simon came to this town, Baz didn't show up late. He nearly waltzed into the pub, back straight and head raised, but when he looked around, Simon saw that his bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth, biting it nervously.
He caught Simon's eye and moved briskly over to him as if nothing was wrong.
By the time Baz took his seat across from Simon, the worry had left his features and he had pursed his lips. Simon opened his mouth to explain everything, but Baz beat him to it.
"So the rumours were true," he stated calmly. Simon's mouth snapped shut. What kind of question was that? Simon tells Baz he is a target, and Baz doesn't even seem to care.
"I- uh. The wha- what rumours?" He stumbled, sitting back in his seat. Baz had the audacity to roll his eyes like Simon was the stupidest person alive.
"When The Mage went crazy? Lecturing all the kids about monsters at school before he vanished? Everyone said he flew off the wall and joined a gang that killed "monsters". I assume he actually did, and when you graduated he dragged you into it," Baz quirked his eyebrow, crossing his arms.
"What- did you just guess all of that?" Simon asked incredulously. Baz kept a straight face, picking dirt out of his fingernails. Actually, Simon thought it could have been dried blood, but he tried his best not to think about it. It was still Baz.
"Well it wasn't very hard," Baz finally looked up, eyebrows raised, "after you showed up at my house two days ago and had a breakdown. And then the men at my door and you... hiding in my bushes. That kinda helped," he stared down his nose at Simon. Simon noticed that his glasses from earlier were gone, and his hair was half pulled up into a bun. He looked... soft. But that wasn't important.
Simon flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Baz had basically guessed it all, so there was no point in beating around the bush.
"Yeah, uh, I guess the rumours were true. I was pulled into the organization as soon as he picked me up from grad, didn't even get to go to the dance..." Simon muttered bitterly. Baz's eyes seemed to soften.
"At first I thought it was crazy. Then it turned out he wasn't, but, uh, homicidal. I had to do everything he told me, no questions asked, and after I figured out that monsters-" Baz flinched, eyes hardening again, "er, sorry. Once I realized that everything was real, I thought I was doing the right thing."
"And then you got a vampire case in my town," Baz stated bluntly. Simon looked up in surprise. Baz was staring intensely, waiting for Simon to freak out.
Baz wasn't a murderer. He killed bunnies to survive, just like how humans ate cows and pigs. Simon wasn't a vegetarian, who was he to judge?
How many vampires had he killed that were like Baz? A million apologies bubbled up in Simon's throat like bile.
"I'm sorry Baz, oh my god, I'm so sorry," Simon's hand flew up to grip his hair, but his cap was in the way, "I just thought I was helping but I wasn't. Oh, Jesus, I've probably ruined so many lives because I did whatever The Mage told me to. But then I saw you and I think I knew it was you right away, but I couldn't act on it because," Simon took a harsh breath, looking down at the table, "because you're you. And I've liked you forever... and- and how could I ever hurt you? So I ignored the clues and then The Mage called me home because the others were coming to pick up the case and I knew they'd find you and kill you and I couldn't have that happen and-"
"Simon! Simon, calm down. I understand. It's not your fault," Baz uncrossed his arms and took one of Simon's hands, "I can take care of myself, I understand if you have to leave."
"Leave?" Simon exclaimed, basically shouting, earning a glance from the bartender, "no, no, no. That's not what I'm saying, Baz. These guys- they'll kill you and your family. I can't let that happen. I'm staying here to keep you safe, and if I have to, I'll get rid of them. I don't care what it takes- I need to get out of the organization one way or the other. I just... I need to know you're safe."
Baz stared at him like he was speaking gibberish, mouth dropped open.
"Simon."
"Yeah?"
"I want to kiss you very badly right now," Baz said, eloquent as ever. Simon choked on a cough, looking around the pub to make sure no one heard.
"Erm. Uh. Maybe I could, um. Come stay at yours tonight? To make sure nothing happens..."
"Good idea," Baz nodded seriously.
Simon rose to leave, but Baz grabbed his hand and yanked him back down.
"What? What's wrong?" Simon asked, looking around anxiously. Had the assassins shown up? Simon looked back at Baz, who was chewing on his lip again.
"How... How did you figure me out? I've always been so careful?" Baz asked quietly. He looked worried like he hadn't been as careful as he thought he had been.
"Baz, you're forgetting this has been my job for three years, I know the signs. It doesn't help that I spent the whole week with you. I mean, it threw me off that you smoke, cause y'know, flammable, but you're pale, cold, you barely eat-"
"I still need food to survive, you absolute numpty, my fangs just pop when I eat. I eat in my room away from my family," Baz interrupted, rolling his eyes.
"O-oh," Simon blanched in surprise. He didn't know that. "Whoops. Wait- if your family doesn't know then how do you explain it to them? Wait- wait! If your family aren't also vampires then you must have been bitten? Oh Jesus, Baz, what happened?"
Baz looked out of breath by the number of questions Simon had thrown at him.
"I'm never telling you to use your words ever again," he muttered, smiling and shaking his head, "first of all, my dad and Fiona know. They, uh, found me, when it happened," Baz took a deep breath. He didn't talk about it. Ever. But Simon was staring at him openly, and he couldn't stop, "I was bitten the summer before third year, just around the corner from here, walking home from the sweets shop."
"Oh, so that's why you don't walk anywh-"
"Obviously, you imbecile!" Baz snapped, before settling and muttering a quiet sorry. He wasn't the best at being vulnerable. He sighed before continuing, "It was late, and I needed to get home, so I took a shortcut down an alley and was jumped. Fiona found me there, passed out, three hours later. She thought I was dead."
"Jesus..."
"Yeah. And I guess it was pretty bad, I don't really remember. After I told them what happened, paired with the bites on my neck... well they could just take me to a hospital, could they? And then I was super sick, obviously, for like three weeks, and I could barely get out of bed," Baz tugged on a piece of hair, frowning at their connected hands, "when I didn't, you know, notice any changes, we thought it was a weird fluke. Like I had gotten colder and stuff, but I didn't crave... you know. But then in year five... I, um. I couldn't ignore it anymore."
Simon stared in awe before snapping his fingers excitedly, "Which is when you started getting sad and pale and stuff!"
"Yes, Snow. 'Sad and pale and stuff', thanks for summing it up," Baz deadpanned with a half-hearted glare.
"Er, sorry," Simon blushed, "it's just, I don't actually know much about what I usually hunt? Just what I've been taught. Obviously, you didn't choose this."
"Obviously," Baz responded dryly, but the side of his mouth twitched.
"Do you still want to kiss me?" Simon asked boldly, looking in his eyes again.
"...Unfortunately."
"Oh, good. Thought I might have scared you off there," Simon smiled, squeezing Baz's hand. Baz rolled his eyes, but he was properly smiling now like he couldn't help himself.
"You're an idiot," He laughed, standing up and tugging Simon with him.
"I can't be that stupid, I figured you out," Simon frowned, dropping Baz's hand but bumping his shoulder as they walked towards the door.
"You know, that isn't really something I want to think about right now," Baz gave him a side-eyed look.
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
"I'm kidding, Snow," he chuckled, opening the door for the both of them. The sky was getting dark, no longer golden from the sunset.
"You know, you've called me Simon, like, multiple times," Simon bumped him again as they walked toward Baz's car, parked across the street. The sidewalks were empty now, and the town was winding down. The close-knit buildings cast black shadows across the street.
"Right, Simon," Baz cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable as he tucked his hands into his pockets, "you know, it doesn't sound right unless it's a high stress or emotional situation, I'm sticking to Snow."
"That's ridiculous," Simon laughed, walking around the Mercedes (rich person car) to the passenger side, waiting for Baz to fish his car keys out of his pocket, "it's just my name."
Baz laughed, looking down and patting his back pockets down for his keys, "but it's got history, you know?"
He finally found his keys and held them up triumphantly, but as soon as he looked at Simon, his eyes widened,
"Simon! Behind you!"
Simon didn't have time to turn before the world went dark.