Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I slam the heavy door behind me, stepping out into the biting wind. I need something- anything to clear my head. So I find myself walking in the direction of the pub. It’s pitch dark outside now. The only sound comes from my feet hitting the gravel road in quick strides, my breath pacing with every step, and the wind howling through the trees. I eventually find myself running- running from my house, my father, my own thoughts. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid these things forever. Alcohol will have to suffice for the time being.

Slowing down to catch my breath, I make sight of the club ahead of me. The flashing sign calls to me like an old friend. Only a few lone cars are scattered across the parking lot.

Good. I don’t want too many people seeing me like this.

I take the first seat at the bar and request a gin and tonic. I’d fall asleep on this stool if it wouldn’t make me more pathetic than I already am. The cool glass reaches my lips as I scan the room. Looking for what, I don’t know, but my eyes meet the gaze of a man sitting in the corner. His intense stare sends a chill up my spine. I try to avoid his eyes, but I find myself looking back to him. He looks only a few years older than me. Grey, tired. The kind of guy you'd expect to come across in a dingy pub on such a bleak night. If he were to get some sleep, I’m sure he could be handsome. We maintain eye contact as he gets up from his seat and strides his way toward mine.

“Hey,” He rasps as he slips his hand to the small of my back, and I can feel how cold it is through my shirt. I straighten like a rod, which pulls a smirk from his lips. I’ve never been this close to a man before, and I’m desperate for any feeling of validation at this point.

So I agree when he asks if I'd like to step outside with him.

We stand behind the club, lighting our cigarettes beneath the single dim streetlight in the lot. We’re only postponing the inevitable, whatever that is. Am I going to go home with him? Are we going to hook up? At this point, I don’t think I care. He drags his cigarette from his lips, looking me up and down. I suddenly feel vulnerable. He’s clearly older than I am. Surely he’s more experienced.

But then my father’s words today come to my head:

I know my son, you’re not queer.

I’m sure a nice girl would change your mind.

It’s unnatural.

Grimms aren’t gay.

So I shove the thoughts of my disapproving father out of my mind, and when the man bends forward toward my mouth, I lean in to meet him.

I figured his hands were frigid because he probably arrived shortly before me. But even with it being freezing outside, his lips are oddly cold. Something turns in my stomach, but I push back into him harder as he holds me against the wall. I should be enjoying this. But something feels wrong. Probably because you're snogging a man rather than a girl, I can't stop my father's voice from popping back into my head, but logically, I know that isn't true. I know I'm gay.

A sudden pain strikes through my lip.

“Ow,” I pull away quickly, touching my lip with the tip of my finger. It comes away with blood. I look up to be met with a face full of teeth.

No, insanely sharp teeth. Enormous fangs.

Vampire.

His menacing grin grows as the realization crosses my face. “Surprised you didn't figure me out. I thought your kind was supposed to be clever.”

My kind. He knows I’m a mage.

I try to push him away, but I don't have the strength to overpower a vampire, and my wand is unreachable from my sleeve that's caught in his grasp. He keeps me pinned to the wall with only one hand, and all of my pride abandons me as I begin crying out for help.

“Who’s going to come and save a gay kid at the club?” He lets out a low chuckle as I squirm beneath his grasp. His voice drops as he breathes in against my throat. “Hold still and this'll be easier for both of us." 

A sharp pain shoots through my neck and I cry out. My knees buckle, and I fall limp between the wall and the vampire's body. I realise I'm losing consciousness as the edges of my vision vignette to black and a roaring wind pounds through my skull.    

I hear distant cries. They sound as if they’re being shouted down a long tunnel. The world around me exists only in shades of red and black. I feel the sudden release of my body, and I’m falling, falling, falling. Running steps reach me but I can’t see anything through all of the red. My eyes fall shut.

Chapter Text

I wake up in a cold sweat. I’m panting, my head is throbbing, my throat is on fire but I’m freezing. A sudden, deep pain fills my stomach, and I pull the covers over my head with a groan. I’ve never been this hungry in my entire life.

After I've completed a full body scan of the pain filling every fibre of my being, a deep vibrating noise catches my attention. I pull back the covers just enough to see a ball of fur- no, a cat- sleeping at the foot of my bed.

What in Merlin’s name. We don’t have a cat.

The silver creature must sense my shock, because it raises its head and slowly blinks up at me before it yawns, displaying all of its sharp teeth. I watch in silence from my cocoon as the cat gets up to stretch its front paws, meows softly, and gracefully pads its way across the bed to me. I instinctively reach out to stroke its fur. But my hand- my hand just falls straight through it.

“Holy fuck,” I gasp, snatching my hand back from it.

“Oli!” A voice sings from the hall outside of my bedroom. The creature's ears perk up at the sound and it hops off the bed, scuttering to the door.

Then something impossible happens. A boy materializes in front my eyes, walking straight through my closed door. I watch in shock as he leans down and picks up the cat into his arms like an infant. He smiles fondly, stroking the cat.

"Sleepy Oli," he kisses the cat on the head, which it seems to find immense joy in, "How are you always so sleepy?"

“Who are you?” I demand, forcing myself to sit up and wincing at the pain shooting through my head at the sudden movement.

The boy glances around the room, as if I could be referring to anyone else, before meeting my eyes. He looks as if he stepped out of my father's childhood photo album, entirely black and white. The edges of his form appear to blur and his silver, messy curls shimmer in the light as he moves. He refrains from responding and only squints at me.

“Excuse me?” My voice comes out clipped in annoyance. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes widen and he looks around my room once again before responding, “Are you talking to me?”

“Well I'm not talking to the cat,” I eye him suspiciously, taking this brief pause as a chance to look over his tattered jeans and loose t-shirt.

"You can actually hear me?"

"Obviously," I look up to watch as his face splits into one giant grin. He quickly sets the creature on the floor before hopping onto the end of my bed, the mattress not even dipping under him.

“Merlin, this is amazing,” he shouts, laughing like a madman as he pushes his forehead to my duvet. I try to shush him, because at this rate he's probably woken the entire east wing of the house, but he sits back up and brushes me off. “Don’t worry, no one else can hear me. You can still hear me right?"

I nod. I’m so utterly lost. “Are you-” I swallow, looking between him and the cat. “What are you?”

“Uh, it’s kinda complicated…” He glances away nervously. “Sorry, I'm probably coming off as a complete nutter. Gods, I just haven't, um," He pauses to collect himself with a deep breath, then returns his gaze to me. "Sorry. I'm Simon."

"Simon the...?"

"Well I was a mage," he rubs at the back of his neck, "but I guess I’m a ghost now.”

“A ghost?" My heart rate picks up. "Did the veil open?" It isn’t supposed to open for another month, at least. Does this mean I have a chance of seeing my mother now?

“Uhm, no. You're probably the only one who can see me.”

Another shot of pain hits my stomach and I double over. “Am I dead?” I groan again. “What the fuck is going on?”

“No, you’re not dead. If you were, you wouldn’t feel any pain.”

The pain almost has me wishing I was. I groan again, "Then what in Merlin's name is wrong with me?" There's a silence long enough that I look up to make sure he's still there. He is.

“Do you… remember last night at all?” Simon asks me.

When he asks, memories begin coming back to me in flashes: the fight with my father, going to the club, kissing that man, and oh- Crowley.

I shoot out of bed and run to the mirror on the wall. I’m instantly hit with how different I look. My skin is no longer the bronze tone it once was and has settled into a greyer hue. My grey eyes are brighter, and my hair somehow looks even darker black than before. I look over at the ghost in my room in terror.

“I’m dead. I’m actually dead.” I run my hands through my hair in panic.

“You’re not dead. You’re just a vampire.” He smiles sheepishly. My stomach flips. 

“Oh, okay, just a-," I choke on my own breath, "a vampire. A blood-sucking monster. One that can see ghosts. I can see dead people! I’m pretty sure that constitutes as dead.”

Hot tears form behind my eyes. Crowley, school starts again in a week. How do I explain to everyone at Watford why my entire appearance has changed? What am I going to tell Dev and Niall, or Penelope? Can I even go back to Watford? Are vampires allowed at Watford? Surely not.

I’m so hungry. I need blood, I realise. I can’t believe I need blood.

My door suddenly opens and Fiona walks in.

“Could you at least knock?” I snarl.

She smirks. “Glad that being undead hasn’t changed you. You’re lucky I found you when I did.”

The pain in my stomach returns again and I practically fall to the ground. She doesn’t rush to my aid. Typical. Simon sits on the ground next to me and observes the interaction in silence. I really wish he would leave.

“Lucky isn’t the word I would use.” I can smell her across the room. “Crowley, Fiona. If you don’t leave I might actually eat you.”

She only laughs and sits a glass on my nightstand.

“Here. We could get this for you today, but you’re going to have to learn to hunt on your own.” Against my own volition, I immediately reach for the cup. “And no, it's not human blood. Your father would kill you if you harmed a human.”

“I’m surprised that he hasn’t already killed me after last night’s events.”

When I bring the glass to my lips, I’m hit with a sweet and unfamiliar scent. Something in my jaw shifts uncomfortably. I lift my hand to touch my teeth and accidentally scrape the tip of my finger. I shudder as I’m reminded of last night and the blood from my lip.

I realise the ghost boy has sat next to me on the bed. He’s staring in awe at the large fangs in my mouth.

“Wicked,” he gawks.

I scowl at him, which Fiona gives me an odd look for. I turn away and lift the cup once again, hesitantly taking a drink. It’s surprisingly difficult to achieve with fangs in my mouth. I expect myself to spit it out instantly, but Crowley, it actually tastes good. I empty the glass within seconds.

“Your father is an idiot. And a bigot. I don’t see why your mother married him.”

“I don’t see how this is supposed to help.” Why does my voice sound strange?

“But he loves you. He just doesn’t always understand you. Recent… developments don’t help, but he cares, boyo.”

With that she gives me a very Fiona-like pat and leaves me alone with Simon the Friendly Ghost once again. Thankfully the pain in my stomach has subsided and I already feel the fangs retracting (to Merlin-knows-where).  

“Well, that went well,” Simon states optimistically. The nerve of this kid. 

“Did it, though?” I hear my own voice come out dripping with sarcasm. “We’re forgetting the part where I’m talking to a dead person.”

“Well that’s rude.” He crosses his arms defensively.

“How! You’re actually dead. I’m dead. I think I’m allowed to say that.”

“You’re not actually dead. You can talk to people. People can actually see you…” Simon fades off, distracted by his own thoughts.

“Who are you, Simon?” I push my fingers into my temples with a sigh. “Why are you in my house?”

He gives me a small, almost sad smile. “Can we go outside? I’ll tell you everything.”

***

The world is a lush green today after the rain last night. Simon and I walk toward the wood. Well, I walk. He sort of floats. Not in the graceful way you’d imagine a ghost to travel. He somehow finds a way to appear clumsy. In daylight, he looks more transparent, shimmering as he moves. More ghostly. The phantom cat decides to come along as well, striding beside Simon.

“I didn’t know animals become ghosts,” I contemplate aloud.

“Oh, Oliver?” Simon keeps his eyes on the path. “I’m not really sure what she is. I think of her more as a spirit. I just found her one day, wandering around. We stuck together after that.”

So weird.

“So if I can see you, does this mean I could see my mother?” We both stop in our tracks. Simon gives me a sympathetic look.

“Sorry, but probably not. I don’t know how your vampire ghost-vision works, but I don’t think it could be strong. Your mother lives behind the veil. I’m stuck in the middle. It's like- what do Catholics call it? Pentagory?”

“Purgatory.” I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yeah, it’s sort-of like that.” He leans down to pick up the cat. I’m still confused.

“Why aren’t you behind the veil?”

“I still don’t know the logistics of the afterlife. But I think that maybe this only happens to younger mages, to people who died before their time.”

My hands tighten to fists as hot anger rises in me. “My mother died before her time.”

Simon reaches a hand out toward me, but he stops short and lets it fall back to his side. Something flashes across his face and he pulls away, looking to the ground.

“I know,” he says softly. “I was there.”

My breath gets caught in my throat. “What are you talking about?”

“My full name is Simon Snow.” He avoids my gaze.

My eyes widen as the realization hits me. How did I not put it together? He was a mage, he died young, his name is Simon…

It all points to Simon Snow.

When my mother was headmaster, a mage tried to start an uprising against the Coven. He resented all of the old families and Watford traditions, and his plan began with taking over as the headmaster. One day, he got past the school's wards and found his way into my mother’s office. But his intrusion didn’t go unnoticed; Simon Snow saw him and followed him.

The mage, Davy, attacked my mother from behind. There was no chance for her to defend herself. Simon Snow acted a second too late, casting a lethal spell just as Davy noticed him and casted a counter-spell at the same second.

There were three fatalities that day. I was ten years old when it happened, not yet at Watford. Every student knows Simon Snow’s name and remembers him as the hero of Watford. 

So now I’m talking to the boy who not only witnessed my mother’s death, but gave up his life to try to prevent it.

“Oh...” I try to recollect myself. I’m not usually a person at loss for words.

“Yeah.”

We stand in silence. I observe him for a moment, with his messy head of curls and grey moles spotted across his arms. I wonder what he would look like in color. My skin itches underneath the sunlight, but I do my best to ignore it. I suppose this is something I’ll have to get used to.

I clear my throat. “I suppose I should thank you.”

His head turns abruptly toward me, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. “For what? She died. I didn’t save anyone.” The vigor leaves him as his face drops toward the ground.

“But you avenged her. You killed Davy.”

“I’m sure someone else would’ve done it eventually.”

I’m not so sure about that. I don’t say anything, though.

“So you died. And now you’re stuck in limbo, waiting for what?”

He shrugs. It’s a bizarre gesture when referring to your own fate.

“I’ve been stuck like this for six years. I’ve gotten tired of looking for answers. I try not to think about it.”

He still doesn’t look me in the eye. This is Simon Snow, the legendary hero of Watford, and he’s out of hope. I can’t blame him.

I have a million other things to worry about. I haven’t even spoken to my father since our argument last night (since I was turned into a dark creature). I have to learn how to live like this. There’s only one week left before the beginning of my eighth year, if I’m even allowed to return. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with any of it.

But I’m looking at him, a boy who died too young, who gave his life for the better of the world of mages. Despite his doubt, he’s a hero. He killed the man who murdered my mother, and I am in debt to him. I don’t know how I’m going to live with being dead, or gay, or anything else, but I do know I have to help him because I owe it to him.

“I’m going to help you.”

His wide, bright eyes look up at me in shock. I watch his mouth fall open. “What?”

“I owe it to you. You avenged my mother’s death. I’ll help you get to where you’re supposed to be.”

Chapter Text

Baz

I close the door quietly behind me and attempt to slip into my room unnoticed, but I don’t have such luck. I nearly run into Vera at the top of the stairs.

“Oh! Basilton!” She stops and looks at me with wide eyes. It seems my change in appearance is just as noticeable as I suspected. She curtseys before going on quickly, “I’m glad to see you’re up and feeling better. Your father requests your presence at dinner tonight if you feel able.”

I’m not sure what I expected after last night. Perhaps to be completely ignored until I left for school. I can’t imagine what sort of conversation we’ll be having at the table tonight.

“So, Basilton,” my father would say flatly, “Now that you’re both gay and a dark creature, I may have to rethink your inheritance.”

I close my door behind me and sigh against it. I know I’m being unrealistic. We never converse much during dinner anyway. But the idea of just ignoring everything that’s happened somehow hurts more.

“You okay?”

Merlin, I forgot he was here.

“I’m fine,” I say, slicking my hair back and walking over to the vanity. I really do look dead. Simon Snow comes over to join me in the mirror. Looking at us side-by-side, it seems we match. Both dead, just in different shades of grey.

“I think you look fine,” he shrugs. “I'm getting used to it.”

“You're getting used to it?” I laugh sharply and fall back on my bed. “How am I supposed to explain to every person I know why I suddenly look like a corpse?”

“You could try makeup? Or magic?” He’s looking down at me with that ridiculous cat in his arms.

“I don’t know if there are spells that strong. ”

“You could just tell the truth.”

I lift my head incredulously at him. He appears to be serious. “Are you daft? No, absolutely not. No one’s letting a blood-sucking vampire waltz freely about schoolgrounds.”

He shrugs again. “You’re not going to be a human-blood-sucking vampire. You should talk to Penelope. She would get Headmaster Bunce to understand.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You know Penny?”

Simon’s face turns a darker shade of grey and he looks away from me. Crowley, can ghosts blush?

“Well, yeah. Yeah, I mean-”

He’s cut off by a knock at the door. Time for dinner.

“You’re going to explain when I come back,” I point a finger at him as I'm leaving the room.

***

I should just run away and never come home. Or, I could just set myself on fire. That’ll be easy as a vampire, won’t it?

My father won’t even look at me. He did, for only a split second, as I took my seat at the table. I caught the moment when he first saw me -the way his eyes widened- but he quickly composed himself.

“Glad you could join us, Basil,” his voice comes out strained.

I politely nod in return. I don’t trust my own voice at the moment, so I allow silence to fill the air as we wait for the food to be brought out. I don’t dare look around the table, either. I can feel Daphne and Mordelia’s eyes on me. Where the hell is Fiona? She probably fled back to London just to evade this humiliatingly uncomfortable reunion. I wish she had the decency to take me with her.

It was only yesterday that everything was normal and we were dining at this same table. My father was going on and on, about how I need to work on university applications, how I need to find a nice, well-bred girl this year, because every mage knows there's no hope finding love after Watford. I was on my last nerve.

“I don’t want to find a nice girl, father,” I said through gritted teeth before I could stop myself.

All of their heads snapped toward me.

“And what could you mean by that, Basil?”

Go now, I told myself. Just leave. Or make something up.

But it had to be said eventually, didn’t it?

“I mean that I’m gay.”

Silence filled the room. I watched him as he sat for a moment, before his lip curled into a tight smile.

“Now, that can't be true. Grimms aren’t gay, Basilton.”

Everything went downhill from there.

The food is brought to the table and I’m beyond grateful, both for the break in silence and because I’m starving. When I lift my first fork of food from my plate, I feel a similar sensation throughout my mouth: things moving closer together, my jaw working.

My fangs are back. I thought it was only supposed to happen when I was drinking actual blood. I don’t need enormous fangs to eat mashed potatoes.

My hand flies up to cover my mouth. I’m definitely going to light myself on fire.

“Basil,” Daphne clears her throat. “Will you be returning to Watford for your eighth year?”

It’s a stupid question (or perhaps not, in light of recent events), but I know she’s only trying to be polite. Of course I’m finishing school. It’s what my mother would want. I nod in response with my hand over my mouth.

Silverware clinks loudly against the silence as I keep my head down. These ridiculous fangs aren’t going away yet, and my family is going to notice soon that I’m acting strange. I can’t just sit here and watch them all eat.

I wish I was on fire right now.

I abruptly push back my chair and stand.

“I don’t feel well.” My words come out strange again. “Please excuse me.”

I can feel all of their eyes on me as I exit the dining room. As soon as I’m out of sight, I run up the stairs. I can’t even hide in my own room right now because of my guest. Instead, I find myself on the floor of the library, crying like an idiot.

If only I hadn’t been a complete numpty yesterday and came out to my father. I shouldn’t have run off to a bar in the middle of the night. I should have listened to my gut about that man and just stayed away. But my self-destructive habits always get the best of me. Now my whole life, if I’m even alive, is ruined. I can’t eat around anyone. My skin looks bloodless and sickly. I have to consume life in order to survive.

My mother would be so disappointed. Just thinking about her makes me cry even harder.

A knock sounds at the door. I don’t have the energy in me to tell them to leave me alone.

“Baz?” Mordelia calls hesitantly as she opens the door.

She comes in carrying my dinner plate and sets it on the ground in front of me. I’m still looking away. She shouldn’t see her older brother crying.

“Mum told me what happened,” she says.

I stay silent. She sits down next to me and wraps her arms around me.

“You shouldn’t get too cozy with blood-suckers, Mordelia.”

She squeezes me tighter, and it takes all of my willpower to not sob into her tiny arms.

"You'd never hurt me, Baz."

She’s incredibly intelligent for a seven year old. I hug her back, and we sit there for just a moment. Then she pulls away, gives me a smile and a peck on the cheek, and leaves.

I decide to quit wallowing in self-pity and eat my supper. The library is freezing and I’d prefer to sit in front of the fire in my room. Is a constant chill a symptom of vampirism? Apparently there’s a lot more to this disease than sucking blood, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

When I return to my room, I find Simon Snow talking to that cat again. It's rather juvenile, but I suppose it’s unfair to judge him, considering the thing has been his only companion for six years. He stops and looks up at me.

“How’d it go?”

“Not important,” I avoid his question and his gaze. “What is important, is where we left off. How do you know Penelope? And you still haven’t explained what you’re doing here, in my home.”

I take a seat on my bed, watching him expectantly as I smooth my trouser leg.

Simon

I was really hoping he’d forget about that. But I’ve never been a lucky person, and that clearly isn’t changing today.

Now he’s watching me with his intense eyes and arched brows, his hands folded over his crossed legs. Vampirism has only heightened the intensity of his features. I’d be sweating from nerves if I still could.

How do you tell someone you’ve been haunting them for nearly two years?

Alright, “haunting” is dramatic. It sounds much worse than it is. I am a ghost though, so I assume that’s the technical term.

“Okay,” I swallow. “Well… when I first died, I couldn’t stand being at Watford because of all the memories. So I left. I went looking for answers anywhere else I could around the country, about why I couldn’t get through the veil or who my parents were or-”

“You didn’t know your parents?” Baz interjects.

“No, I was an orphan. I know it’s unheard of for mages to give up their children, but here I am.”

Baz looks uncharacteristically confused. “Nobody ever told us that at Watford.”

I sigh. “Well why would they? I’m supposed to be this great hero of Watford. They don’t want to remember me for what I really was: an orphan that didn’t even belong in the magickal world.”

I never fit in with the other students. It didn’t matter how much speech therapy or tutoring I got; you're perpetually stuck behind when you don’t discover magic until you’re 11 years old. My only close friend was Agatha, and that was just 'cause she was the only student who didn’t care enough about magic to be bothered that I was rubbish at it.

Headmaster Pitch was always good to me, though I’m not even sure how I was allowed at Watford. I think she tolerated me because she knew there wasn’t anywhere else for me to go. Bit risky to leave a magical bomb at the hands of the Normal foster system.

“Anyway,” I continue, “I traveled for a few years, I'm not really sure how long. But I eventually accepted that I wasn’t going to find any answers, so I ended up going back to Watford. Maybe because ghosts are supposed to haunt the places they died.”

I look at Baz, hoping for him to say something, but he’s just watching me, waiting for me to continue.

“So… I came back. To my room. And you were there.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And how long ago was that?”

I feel my face heat up. I haven’t blushed in years, but I’m continuously embarrassing myself today.

“Like, two years ago?” His eyebrows rise even higher. I stammer out a response, “Well, maybe less. I don’t know. I just- I had nowhere else to go. And it was my room when I went to Watford, so I thought maybe I was just supposed to stay there, and I’d eventually magically pass over to the afterlife.”

Obviously, that hasn't worked out. Instead I ended up stupidly following a boy around for two years.

Baz

I have to admit it’s entertaining to watch Simon get so flustered. (And adorable. But I won’t think about that right now).

It makes sense, I suppose, that he would come back to his room. I don't have a roommate, so I always left the other side of the room relatively untouched. I didn’t know it was Simon Snow’s side of the room, though. Otherwise, I might’ve been opposed to having my own room, knowing it might be haunted. (I’m not an overly superstitious person, but I am a mage, and I’m smart enough to stay away from places people have died at).

Not that I had a choice. The crucible didn’t pair me with anyone. Little did I know, I had a ghost roommate for the past two years.

Maybe that should bother me more, but I died today, so I’ve hit my limit for surprise.

“And that led you to my house because?”

Simon smiles nervously, avoiding my eyes. “It gets really boring at Watford around the holidays… I had nothing else to do, so I just… came along?”

“So do you follow me around all day or do you just wallow around the room?” I tease.

Simon’s cheeks darken and his eyebrows furrow. “No, I don’t just wallow and ‘follow you around ’. I found things to do with my time… I hang out with Oliver, or visit Eb and the goats, or watch football games--”

“The football games that I play in.”

“What? No,” he pulls at his hair. “I just like football. I played on the team when I was… alive.”

He makes a strange face at that.

“I was just around enough to know other students. And who your friends are, which is why I know Penny.”

I’m the only person who calls her Penny, but I don’t comment on it because I remember something else.

“Eb? The goatherd?”

Simon’s face brightens instantly. “Yeah! We were great friends. It’s nice to visit her, she’s the only person left at Watford that I really knew… Well, there are the teachers but… I was never a star student.”

Simon then yawns, laying back across my sofa. I blink.

“Are you tired?”

“Well yeah, it’s been quite an eventful day hasn’t it?” The cat jumps onto the couch as well, then onto Simon’s stomach. “I haven’t talked to a human being in six years. It’s exhausting.”

Not a human being, I think, but don’t correct him this time. “Do ghosts sleep?”

“Do vampires?” He cracks one eye open at me, his arms folded behind his head.

My eyelids feel like lead, so I’ll assume the answer is yes.

“Fair point.”

With that I go to get ready for bed. I almost offer my bathroom to Simon, until I realize he probably doesn’t need it. Has he been wearing the same outfit for six years? Surely he doesn’t eat... But he does need sleep. I won’t try to unriddle the bodily functions of a ghost before I work out my own.

I don’t look in the mirror while I brush my teeth. I don’t need another breakdown today.

When I come back to the room, I find him in the exact same position, curled up with the cat on his stomach. I climb into my bed and watch him for a moment. His light curls are splayed across the sofa, his eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful, his chest steadily moving. I can’t imagine what he’s gone through, not having anyone to speak to for more than half a decade.

I think that helping him is the right thing to do. Nobody deserves to go through that alone. And if I don’t help him, what will he do instead? Continue haunting his dorm for eternity?

He’s already asleep, but I still feel the need to tell him.

“I’m going to help you figure everything out, Simon Snow.”

I lay back on my bed and close my eyes, hoping that sleep will come soon. 

Chapter Text

Baz

“Wake up, Casper. We’re going to the library.”

I’m standing over the sofa, waiting for Simon to get up, but he only mumbles incoherently and rolls over to face away from me. I can’t exactly shake him awake, so I just drop my book on top of him -or rather, through him- , which somehow alerts him immediately.

“Ay, what was that for?” He glares over his shoulder.

“I was trying to wake you. Did you actually feel it?”

He frowns at the book which appears to be quite literally inside of him.

“Sort of. It’s like water,” he yawns and closes his eyes again.

“Like water?”

“You can move through water, but you still feel it.”

“Well that’s exceptionally perceptive of you, perhaps you can apply that while researching spells.”

I turn on my heel and head down the hall, expecting Simon to follow. (He does.)

***

Apparently ghosts’ inability to touch physical objects inhibits their ability to flip pages, which results in me doing all of the researching while Simon lays on the library floor.

“Can we do something else?” He groans.

I look up from my book.

“I think you’re forgetting that I’m doing this for you.”

“I’ve been dead for six years, I can wait a bit longer.” He keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“Well I’m sorry this isn’t entertaining enough for you, but the sooner I free you from your curse or whatever it is, the sooner I’ll be free of you following me around.”

I glance up to see that Simon looks slightly offended. I look back down at my book. I’m not sure why I said it; my words came out harsher than I intended. Perhaps I’m not used to this whole ghost-companion thing after all. Still, he isn’t bad company. It’s strangely comforting to have someone around amidst my… transition.

“Whatever,” he huffs. “I’ll just find cooler vampires to hang out with.”

The corner of my mouth quirks up as I roll my eyes.

“Good luck finding another one that can use magic,” I look back down on my book. “Spells relating to death and the afterlife are… taboo, to say the least. It isn’t going to be easy to find something practical, especially considering your unique situation.”

Just then, a knock comes at the door. Vera walks into the library.

“Excuse me, Basil. You have a visitor downstairs.”

I look over at Simon, who shrugs. I turn back to Vera.

“Do you know who it is?”

“It’s Miss Bunce. I tried to tell her you weren’t feeling well, but she refuses to leave the foyer.”

I sigh, resting my head in my hands.

“Alright. Tell her I will be down in a moment.”

Vera leaves the room and my head falls back against the couch.

I don’t know what I’m going to tell Penelope. I thought I had another week to decide how to deal with this, but leave it to Penny to show up at my house uninvited (it isn’t the first time). She’s going to notice that I’ve changed and I won’t know what to say because-

“Hey,” Simon’s voice cuts through my stream of consciousness. “Baz. Look at me.”

I do.

“Relax. It’s just Penny, okay? Just calm down.”

I nod, slowly sitting up and getting ready to stand.

“It’s gonna be okay. Let’s just get it over with and go downstairs.”

“You’re coming with me?”

“Do you not want me to?”

I consider it for a moment. I almost say no— to avoid seeming weak, and because it’s strange to need a stranger's company to talk to my best friend. But I know that I don’t want to do it alone, and I’m weak, so I choose honesty.

“No, I want you to. Come with me.”

Penny notices me the moment I reach the staircase. She’s standing there, tapping her clunky Doc Martens on the tile floor with her hands on her hips. 

"You know I had to walk half a mile to get here? The cab said your house was haunted. Unbelievable." 

Simon and I look at each other. He shrugs with a small smile. 

"It's the wraiths," I say. 

“Why aren’t you answering my texts or calls?” She interrogates as I make my way down the stairs. Simon follows close behind me.

“Are you my mother now, Penelope?” I try to keep my voice steady. She probably hasn’t noticed my appearance yet; I’m not close enough.

She sighs with exasperation. “I’m being serious, I was worried. You always answer. And I wanted to talk to you about our magic words summer assignment.”

“Well, I’m alive.” Mostly. “So you can go home now and I’ll text you back.”

I reach the bottom of the stairs and she squints her eyes, walking closer to me. Please, please stop.

“Baz....” The words leave her mouth slowly. “You look… white.”

“Excellent observation.” I narrow my eyes, daring her to continue. But this is Penny, so of course she does.

“Are you sick? Is that why you haven’t been answering me? You should’ve just told me.”

“Baz,” Simon says behind me. “Just tell her the truth.”

“I can’t,” I hiss under my breath.

“What?” Penelope asks.

“You can’t pretend to be sick forever, Baz.”

I sigh. He isn’t wrong.

“Just… come upstairs.”

***

“So are you going to explain what’s going on with you now?” Penny folds her arms and falls back into my couch. Simon sits next to her. So weird.

“I…” I swallow and look at Simon. He gives me a reassuring nod. I have to close my eyes. “Something… happened.”

I open my eyes again. She watches at me expectedly.

“I got into a fight with my father, so I went to the club to get away.”

“I told you that you shouldn’t go there anymore.”

I ignore her disapproving comment.

“There was a man who took me outside. I wouldn’t have survived if my aunt hadn’t shown up.”

“Baz, you’re not making any sense. What happened?” I can’t bring myself to say the word.

“He..." A shaky exhale escapes me. "He bit me, and it was too late. I was Turned.”

Her eyes widen in realization as she looks me up and down.

“Oh, Merlin.” Penny stands up and moves closer to me, trying to scrutinize every change in my appearance, no doubt. I look at the ground.

“Can I see your teeth?”

My head snaps up to scowl at her. “No.”

Penny sighs and sits on the foot of my bed. Silence sits between us. Simon watches us anxiously as he bites his nails, and I could really do without his restless energy. It was his bloody idea to tell her.

“I’ve never heard of a vampire mage...," Penny says, more to herself than me. She turns to me then. “What are you going to tell everyone at school?”

“Not that I’m a vampire, for sure.”

Penny snorts. “Well you aren’t going to be feeding on people, are you?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to advertise it.”

Penny’s face brightens with realization. “Tell everyone you’re anemic!”

“Anemic.”

“I doubt anyone will question it. Just say you have some obscure blood disease and people will leave you alone.”

She says it like it’s a simple solution. She and Snow have more in common than I expected, both of them thinking up such absurd ideas. But it’s true, I only have to go one more year at Watford. I’m good at lying (it’s not something I’m necessarily proud of, but it is useful). I think I could probably get away with it. Except…

“Are you going to tell your mother?” I ask.

Penelope hesitates for a moment. “I think it’s better if we don’t. At least for a while. She adores you, but… I think we should wait.”

I nod in response. “Great. Well now that we’ve gone over that, you can head home.”

“Baz,” she grabs my forearm gently. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I told you the truth, didn’t I?”

Simon huffs from across the room. “You haven’t told her about me yet.”

Simon Snow is an idiot if he believes I’m going to confess to being a vampire and seeing the dead in the same day. It’s too much. Penny will never cease to bombard me with questions if I tell her now.

I’ll tell her eventually. Once it’s all over.

“That’s not what I meant. Are you sure you’re okay with being alone right now?”

I glance over at Snow.

“I’ll manage.” I stand up and usher Penny toward the door with my hands on her shoulders. “And don’t worry, I’ll text you about our project. I’ll see you at school.”

She stops to turn around when we reach the front door of my house. She’s got that intense look in her eye that she gets when she’s either worried about me or about to tell me off. (Often it’s both).

“Take care of yourself. And call me.” She wraps her arms around my neck. I hesitate to put both of mine around her. Neither of us are very touchy-feely, so it’s rare that we express any care for each other physically.

Right now, though, it feels like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders.

After a moment has passed, she pulls away, gives me a small smile, and opens the door, leaving me with a ghost and an empty heart.

Chapter Text

Baz

“Front seat’s for people who haven’t been turned into vampires,” Fiona remarks cruelly as she slams the car door. 

I scowl at her insensitive joke as I throw my luggage in the trunk. Snow seems to notice my discontent. 

“I’ll sit with you in the back,” he says with a ridiculous grin that is completely unnecessary. I feel my cheeks heat up. 

“Do as you please, but for the love of Merlin, don’t sing in the car. Fiona’s screeching is already more than I can bear.” 

“You haven’t even heard my singing,” he mumbles. He’s right, and I’m sure his singing is insufferably endearing as the rest of him. 

Fiona rolls down the car window and lowers her sunglasses. “Are you getting in or can I go back to Netflix?” 

Curse Fiona and her Normal shows. The Sabrina reboot was just downright offensive to the Magickal world; there’s enough stigma around magic, we don’t need more talk of us corresponding with the devil. 

(Snow likes it, though. Sometimes he goes to Fiona’s room to watch the dreadful show with her. I suppose it doesn’t bother me. It’s nice to get some time to myself.) 

The two of us (and the cat, despite my objections) climb into the backseat. The drive to Watford isn’t very long, but it feels unbearable today. The more time passes, the more anxious I can feel myself growing. I know that Penny and I figured it out, the whole rare blood disorder excuse and all, but I’m still wary of the possibility of being found out. Then having my wand taken and fangs pulled and my name stricken from the book- 

“Hey,” Snow says. As if I could have a full-on conversation with him right now. I slightly tilt my head at him and raise my brows in question. 

“Can you like, get a piece of paper out?” 

I sigh dramatically but reach into my bag for my notebook. Snow grins. Fiona turns up her already-blasting music. 

What?  I write. 

“Can we play a game or something? Car rides are so boring.” 

Merlin, this boy will be the death of me. 

How did you survive 6 years alone being so infuriatingly annoying?

Snow just smiles. “Tic tac toe?” 

Simon

I can tell Baz is nervous about going back to Watford, so I thought playing a game might distract him. I wasn’t lying, though. Car rides are insanely dull. 

You get pretty good at reading someone when you spend all of your time with them for two years. Even more so when they don’t know you’re there, as creepy as that sounds… And Baz is another story. He’s always hiding his emotions from others and bottling up what he really has to say. Sometimes he opens up to Penny, or even Dev and Niall, but he never fully lets his guard down. But I get to see him for who he really is. Or I used to, before he was Turned. 

I don’t think of the past few years as stalking, per se. That’s an exaggeration. I suppose I just thought of him as my roommate (one I couldn’t communicate with, but a roommate nonetheless). So whenever he came back to the room after class, or football practise, violin lessons, or whatever, I was always there to see him at the end of the day for what he really is: just a boy. A broken and lonely, yet witty and brilliant and charming, boy, no matter how cool and emotionless he tries to present himself to the rest of the world.   

“Shit!” I groan when Baz gets a three-in-a-row. Baz cackles. It’s not like I was putting in much effort. I knew he’d beat me no matter how hard I tried. “You only won because you get to write down all the marks.” 

Baz is still laughing scornfully at me. 

“What in Crowley’s name are you laughing at?” Fiona shouts over the music. 

Baz stops and goes wide-eyed as I’ve ever seen him. “I’m, uh, texting Dev and Niall.”

She eyes him suspiciously through the rear-view mirror. “Alright, boyo.” 

When she looks back at the road, Baz pulls his mobile from his pocket. Probably to text Penny. I’d look over his shoulder to check if he couldn’t see me. Perhaps that’s too invasive…

We’ve been researching more about my condition the past few weeks, with no success. Baz will occasionally come up with an idea and try out a spell on me, but nothing ever happens. The magic just fizzles out into the air, similar to how my magic reacted when I still had it. 

I’ve tried convincing him that we should tell Penny and she’d definitely help, but he won’t. I don’t know why. She’s already accepted his vampirism. I’m sure she’d be open to his new-found sixth sense. 

Maybe I’m being insensitive. Like I said, I’ve waited six years. I can wait longer. And I’m not completely alone now. Having someone to talk to (besides my cat) means everything. I think I would’ve gone crazy if I hadn’t found Baz. Whether he knew I existed or not, I’ve thought of him as a friend for these two years, and that gave me some sense of meaning. We might even be actual friends now. I’m sure he enjoys my company at least half of the time (even if he won’t admit it, the stubborn git). 

Baz thinks that we might have more luck when we go back to Watford, being closer to the place of my death. And there will be more books in the school library to look at. He’s dead set on figuring it all out. I don’t have the heart to tell him that I think it sounds too good to be true. After being stuck like this for so long… I can’t imagine ever escaping it. 

But what we have right now… It’s good. It’s so good. Actually getting to talk to Baz everyday and joke with him and spend time with him, is more than I ever allowed myself to even dream of getting. It can’t go on forever, though. If we don’t figure out how to break my curse, or whatever it is, I can’t just ask him to let me follow him around for the rest of his life. Now that I think about it, it’d be even weirder with him growing older and me staying sixteen forever. I wonder how vampires age? There’s no way they’re actually immortal. I wonder if Baz knows. I almost ask, but it doesn’t seem like a conversation that would help his nerves right now. 

Baz puts his phone away with a sigh and pulls his notebook out again. 

“Hangman?” I ask. 

He rolls his eyes, but I can see the corner of his mouth quirk up as he turns to the next page.

***

Fiona stops the car and turns around to look at Baz when she reaches the gates. 

“Look, you’ve clearly got a lot of shit going on,” she starts. “So I talked to our old cousin Pritchard. She works in the kitchens, yeah? I worked out a deal with her, and she’ll be able to keep some blood for you in the back when you need it. You’re welcome.” 

She turns back around. I turn back to Baz, who lets out a literal breath of relief. Back in Hampshire, he started practicing his hunting skills, but he couldn’t catch anything larger than a rabbit. That was on a good day. I could tell that doing it upset him whenever he came back. (He wouldn’t let me watch, as much as I asked.) 

“I-” He clears his throat. He sounds smaller than I’ve ever heard him. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we both know you wouldn’t have survived eighteen years without me.” From years of observation, I catch the hint of fondness in her voice. “Now get out of my car.” 

With that, the two of us climb out and get his luggage from the trunk. 

“I’d offer to help, but my hands are full,” I joke.  

Baz looks down at Oliver in my arms and just rolls his eyes, putting his bag over his shoulder. 

“You’re lucky she isn’t a real cat or I might eat her.” 

Once we get back to the room, Baz sets down his stuff and immediately collapses face-down onto his bed. I sit down on mine, just looking at him. I don’t get to do this as much as I used to. It might be the only thing I miss from before. 

“Are you going to the opening ceremony?” I ask.

“Mmmph,” He groans into his pillow. 

“You have to see everyone eventually, you know.” 

He turns to look at me intently. I can’t help but admire the way his hair falls around his face. 

“I’ll just wait for Penny to come up here and force me to go.” 

I nod, looking over at the window, feeling uneasy beneath his gaze. 

“I just want to stay here for a while longer.” I turn back at him and he’s closed his eyes again. 

I fall back on my bed, letting the silence fill the room around us. It’s nice. It reminds me of all the times before. When he didn’t know I was there. I always wished that I could give him some sort of sign that he wasn’t alone. When he felt like there was no one in the world on his side. 

The sun is setting now, showering the room in a soft golden glow. When I was alive, I kept the window open all the time. On days like these, I’d stick my head out to feel the warmth on my face and the breeze blow through my hair. I remember what it felt like to be alive. 

And I’m looking at Baz, with his long, dark lashes fluttering lightly against his cheeks. The golden light settles across his face, illuminating his sharp features. No matter how much he denies it, he looks so alive. A single lock of hair has fallen across his face. I want to reach out and tuck the dark strand behind his ear. I want to run my hands through it and tell him that everything is going to work out. But no amount of wanting will give me the ability to touch him. 

It took a long time for me to figure it out. Longer than it should’ve, at least. After more than a year of following him around, wanting nothing more than to be by his side and talk to him, wanting to make sure that he was always okay, the realization finally came to me. 

Because being with Baz reminds me what it’s like to feel alive again. Because I’ve never wanted anyone to be happy as I want him to. Because I haven’t seen anything more breathtaking than the way he looks when he’s breathing softly underneath the sunlight. Because of all of these things, I realized that I’m hopelessly in love with him.

Chapter Text

BAZ

People are a lot more dense than I thought.

Apparently it’s quite easy to convince your whole school that you’ve spontaneously obtained a rare blood disorder over the summer. Or maybe they’re just too afraid to question a Pitch. Which I’m fine with, if it means they aren’t burning me at the stake.

I’m not sure that Dev and Niall are fully convinced. We still sit together at meals and joke about nonsense, or play football on the pitch and talk about girls (well, they talk about girls). But they still occasionally eye me warily, or share a silent glance whenever I tell them I’m not hungry at meals (all meals). I blame my abstention from food on my strict "blood disease diet". It’s completely stupid, but they’re good men for never questioning a thing. Unfortunately, I’ll never be able to say the same for Penny. 

On some days, I’ll skip lunch or dinner to research with Simon in the library. We’ve barely made any progress, only coming up with a few new spells to try out. (I never had high hopes for Evanescence, but I can't help but feel disappointed). On top of this, Penny is always following me and asking what I’m up to. Simon thinks I should just tell her the truth already, but I was hoping we’d get it all figured out before that became necessary. And I admit it’s nice to be alone sometimes. With Simon. Somehow, being around him clears my mind of everything else I’m worried about. I don’t want to dwell too much on that realization.

Because soon enough, he’s going to leave my life just as quickly as he entered it. I don’t want that to hurt more than it already will. And I know I’m only making it worse by spending all of my time with him, but I can’t help but soak up every minute we have left. Maybe I’m selfish because I want to keep him all to myself instead of involving Penny. 

We’re in the library now, tucked in the corner behind a bookshelf and against a large stained glass window. It’s already late- we’ve been researching for hours and we started at dinner. Simon’s in the seat next to mine, splayed out across the arm of the chair. I divert my gaze when his shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of his silvery skin. My train my focus back to skimming pages in the book in front of me. 

“-so then Trixie told him that he’d have to talk to Rhys if he wanted any. Which I know is a lie, because just yesterday she and Keris were-” 

“Simon.”  I interrupt, rubbing my palms over my eyes. “You do know that you're supposed to be silent in a library.” 

He lifts his head with a tilted look of confusion (the look that I've told him resembles a labrador). “Nobody can hear me.” 

“Yes, but I can, and I must admit that I’m not incredibly interested in Trixie the Pixie’s escapades. Have you considered that, just because you can spy on people, doesn't mean that you should. And you’re distracting me.” 

“Not like we’re making any progress anyways,” he huffs. 

“Because you’re distracting me!” I throw my hands in the air before remembering we’re still in a public setting. I look around, but thankfully no one seems bothered. Simon gives me a smirk that fills me with a variety of emotions. Annoyance, primarily. (Arousal, secondly). I straighten out my pant leg and clear my throat. “Anyway, I actually have an idea.” 

Simon sits up eagerly with wide eyes. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get too excited.” I lower my voice and look around us once again before continuing. “I’ve been trying to use all of the spells that we’ve found on you, but none of them have worked. It got me thinking: maybe they aren’t working because you’re not actually here. Because we need to perform the spells on a physical body.” 

Simon’s expression darkens. “So you’re saying-” 

Before he can finish, a familiar voice breaks into our conversation. 

“Baz, what are you doing back here?” Penny. I turn around. She’s standing with her arms crossed.  

“Researching. For my eighth year spell.” 

She tries to look at the page I’m reading but I shut the book. I regret it instantly when she squints her eyes at me with suspicion. Great. 

“It sounded like you were talking to someone.” 

It takes all of my willpower to not look back at Snow. 

“I’m practicing elocution. Merlin, Penny, it sounds like you’re accusing me of plotting the downfall of mages.” 

A look of guilt flashes across her face before she lets out a sigh. She moves and I realize she’s going to sit next to me, where Simon is frantically getting up to move out of the way. I have to choke back a laugh at his dramatics when he gets up just before she plops into the seat. Penny looks at me earnestly.   

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Penny. I’ve already told you-” 

“Just listen to me, okay?” She takes a deep breath. “I know you’re having a hard time right now, with the transitioning and your father and everything. I feel like you’ve been isolating yourself from everyone. You’re always in the library or your room these days. You know that you can talk to me and that I’m always here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.” 

I’m not alone, I want to say. I sneak a glance at Simon.

“You should tell her.” He says. I shake my head. 

“I need to go, Penny,” I get up and start gathering my things. “I just… I’ll talk to you later. Please, don’t worry about me.” She watches silently as I leave library with Simon on my heels.

“Baz, she could help us,” he argues as I walk briskly through the biting air. I hope that by ignoring him he’ll just give up, but I've known Simon Snow long enough to know he never backs down. 

“She’s really worried about you. You should be honest with her.” 

I stop and turn around. “Even if Penny is my best friend, it doesn’t make it easy to tell her I’m even more of a freak than she already sees me as,” I snap.

A look of hurt takes over Simon’s face and I feel something heavy in my stomach. He furrows his eyes at the ground. 

“You don’t have to help me. If you don’t want to, you can just say it.” 

A fury of thoughts go through my mind, such as I didn’t mean it like that, Simon, I’d never want to hurt you and You’re the only thing helping me stay sane right now. 

But I settle for “Pitches don’t break promises, Snow,” instead. He keeps his eyes on the ground. 

I go on, “Meet me at the White Chapel tonight. This might actually work. And if it doesn’t, we’ll get Penelope involved.” 

Simon doesn’t look reassured. He hesitates before responding. “What time?” 

“We’re messing with the forces of life and death. The Witching Hour, of course.” 

***

SIMON

Fuck the Witching Hour, honestly. I’d much rather be sleeping than creeping around the catacombs, in the dead hours of the night, with intent to perform a dark ritual. (With a vampire!). (Not that he can hurt me, but still.) I’m not thrilled by the idea of encountering my corpse, but Baz thinks it’s a good idea, so we have to try it. 

I try not to think about what Baz said earlier- how he basically feels like a freak because of me. I know things would be easier for him if he didn’t have to help me with my problems on top of his own. I could run away and find someplace else to haunt for the rest of eternity- but I would never do that. Only if I knew he really wanted me to. 

Instead of continuing to bother Baz, I went over to Ebb’s. There’s a nice hill in the pasture to lay on and look up at the stars. I’ve become very familiar with the sky over the past six years; I’ve started coming up with my own constellations. I sigh and lift Oliver off of my chest to sit up in the grass. She meows before running off to the Wavering Wood. (Who knows what she does in there.) I should head to the White Chapel.

I can tell it’s cold outside, even if I can’t feel anything. All of the goats have hidden in the barn, the trees are swaying violently in the wind, and when I approach the chapel, I find Baz wrapped in what looks like five layers of jumpers and coats. I know he gets cold easily, but this is excessive. 

“Ready?” He asks, opening the door to the chapel for me to head in first. I don’t have the energy to point out that it’s unnecessary. 

I haven’t been inside of the White Chapel since I went to Watford. It looks exactly the same: dark, empty, and especially creepy in the middle of the night. We silently make our way down the dark aisle toward the altar. Even in moonlight, you can make out the depictions in the large stained glass windows of great mages and dragons. Right now, it feels like all of their eyes are following me as we get closer to the door that leads down to the catacombs. Like they know that we’re trying to do something that’s completely unnatural. 

We stop once we reach the door, and I look at Baz. He has the same face I’ve seen when he’s on the pitch: knitted brows, jaw tight, eyes set on the goal ahead of him. He pulls out his wand and glances over at me. I nod and he turns back, opening the door and stepping down into the darkness. 

The door shuts behind us and everything turns pitch-black. 

“Baz, I know you have super-vampire-vision, but I don’t, so can you please-” 

A small flame suddenly appears in his palm. 

“Baz! You’re flammable!” I panic. 

He smirks as he watches the flame grow and dance between his fingers. 

“I wasn’t sure if it would work. I hadn’t tried since I was Turned…” 

“So you thought now would be a good time to test your luck?”

He ignores me and continues down the small corridor. It’s dreadful down here. Bones are scattered randomly across the stone floor, and webs cover the crevices between bricks in the walls. There are dozens of other passageways down here, but Baz seems sure of the way he’s going. 

“Have you been down here before?” I say quietly, though I’m not sure why. 

Baz’s voice echoes against the cave-like walls, “A few times. My mother’s grave is down here. Have you not?”

I’m not sure if it’s more weird that I haven’t visited my own grave, or that Baz assumes that I have. 

“No,” I answer. 

“That’s a shame. It’s quite lovely down here.” I’m too unsettled to find any humor in what I hope is a joke.

Suddenly, a distant thud sounds behind us. I stop in my tracks in fear. I’d grab his hand if I could. 

“Crowley, did you hear that?” 

“Simon,” Baz stops to look back at me. “Nothing can touch you. And we’re the most threatening things down here.” 

“An amateur vampire and a ghost that doesn’t like possession?” 

Baz’s eyes widen before he quickly recomposes his features to appear only slightly unsettled.

“You can possess people? How have you never mentioned this?”

“I possessed Fiona once.” To save your life, I don’t add.

“You what?”  

“It doesn’t matter right now!” I run my hands through my hair. “Can we just keep moving? I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” If I get out of here. 

I’ve tried not to think too much about what exactly we’re trying to do right now. Nothing seemed real when all we did was flip through books in the library, or when Baz tried to cast spells on me that never landed. But now… this is a whole other type of game. This might actually work. And I have no clue what to expect if it does. Will I pass on to the afterlife? Or will I somehow reinhabit my body? No. I really don’t want to think about that. The more my mind goes on, the more it feels like something rising up in me, like my magic when I was alive, always bubbling to the surface-

Baz stops. “We’re here.” 

BAZ

So maybe this wasn’t the best idea. 

It seemed like the most logical thing, to perform the spells on a physical body instead of a spirit. It’s my final, desperate attempt at figuring this out before we have to involve Penelope. But now that we’re here, I’m afraid of what we actually could do. I don’t even have a set goal. Ideally, get Simon to where he’s supposed to be. Whether that be behind the veil or legitimately resurrected… I’m unsure. And I’m unsure which possibility unsettles me more.

I don’t want to lose Simon when I’ve just found him, now that he’s one of the only constants I can depend on in my life right now. But I can’t be selfish. He doesn’t want to stick around forever. I can’t exactly say, “Actually, I quite enjoy your company. Would you mind staying in limbo for eternity to be my friend?”. Absolutely not. 

We’ve finally reached Simon’s tomb. His is right next to my mother’s, and I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never really looked at it. The tombstone says in grand letters:

SIMON SNOW

June 1993 - October 6, 2009

Here lies the greatest hero of Watford School of Magicks.

We will never forget your brave deed.

I turn to Simon, who looks like he’s going to be sick. He’s standing there, taking in the whole scene, his eyes scanning the epitaph. I want to reach out and reassure him somehow, but I can’t.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I tell him. 

He shakes his head, seeming to clear his mind. He turns his attention to me. There isn’t any fear left in his eyes. 

“No. We need to try.” 

I nod, walking over to the torches on the wall to light it with the flame in my hand. I then pull my notebook from my bag and stand in front of the tomb. Simon moves next to me. 

“Should I, like-” he takes a deep breath. “Should I lay above it or something?” 

I swallow. “Yeah, that might be best.” I have no idea what I’m doing. 

Simon slowly steps closer to the raised coffin and lays on top of it. 

“I’m going to try out a few different spells, okay?” I say, trying to mask any shaking in my voice. I’m probably failing. 

“Okay.” 

I clear my throat and straighten my stance, holding my wand out to point at the grave. 

“Come together, right now.”  Nothing happens.

“We go together.”  

“Everything in its right place!”  I had a good feeling about that one, but I’m proved wrong. 

“It’s alive!” 

“Baz!” Simon shouts without moving. “Please don’t use that spell.” 

“We’re running out of options,” I respond, though I feel guilty. That one could be very unpredictable. 

“I don’t want to be a monster.” 

“You’re not a monster, Simon,” I say, more softly than I intend to. “I’m going to try a few more. Just stay calm.” 

He doesn’t object, so I continue. 

“He is risen!” 

Biblical spells are basically the most powerful that a mage can use. Normals live and breathe from it. I expect Simon to try to stop me, but he doesn’t. 

“He has risen from the dead.” 

The tomb suddenly feels a lot warmer. I want to remove my coat, but I have to keep trying. 

"Those who have done what is good will rise to live.” Simon is so, so good. He's braver and better than anyone I know. 

“But your dead will live; their bodies will rise.

Those who live in the dust will wake up and shout for joy!

For your dew is like the dew of dawn,

and the earth will give birth to the dead.”

The light from the flames suddenly seems a lot brighter. I'm sweating. My ears are ringing.

“Baz, I don’t-” Simon tries to stop me, but I persist.

“He is risen indeed!”

I think the ground is shaking. I think I’m going to burn alive from the inside out. I think I might be able to-

“Baz?” Someone says behind me.

I jerk around to see Penny, standing in the doorway to the tomb, eyes wide and her ring out. 

“Penny?” Black spots fill my vision. I drop to my knees. Penelope catches me just before I fall onto my face.

“Oh, Merlin,” Simon comes over to us. “Baz, I told you to stop!”

“I’m sorry, Simon.” My eyes are getting heavier. 

“Simon?” Penny looks around the tomb. “Merlin, Baz. What have you gotten into…”

The last thing I see is her bright amethyst ring, pointed straight at me.