"Vincent! Vincent, I have news," Quinn exclaimed as they burst into the art classroom in the late afternoon.

Vincent was sitting in the windowsill next to Hannah, apparently in the middle of a story that, from what Quinn had overheard in the corridor, revolved around how you took the people you loved everywhere with you even when they weren't really there. At Quinn's entrance, he broke off abruptly. "What?"

"You're going over," Quinn panted, their voice trembling slightly with giddiness. "Vincent, you're going to the other side tonight."

"What? D-did you manage to find so—"

"I didn't have to. I talked to my grandma on the phone earlier. There's another way."

Vincent stared blindly at nothing as he processed. Finally, the complete disbelief on his face morphed into cautious hope and a desire so raw it hurt to look at. "You really think it'll work?"

For the first time, Quinn's certainty was one hundred percent real. "I do."

***

The others were already waiting on the path that led into the forest when Quinn arrived. It was an odd assembly; the entire Greenbrook family, their green and brown dresses almost blending in with the trees; Joy and Jun standing with Caleb and Josie, their expressions all different stages of anticipation; Valerie toying idly with a small flame she was passing from one hand into the other; and Luis, shifting uneasily from one foot onto the other as he tried to avoid Deloris's penetrating gaze.

Upon Quinn's arrival, all of them perked up and it set in that they were the reason all of them were gathered. All of them were here either to help them or be helped by them. All they'd had to do, this entire time, had been to ask.

Their combined attention was a heady sensation, but for once, Quinn couldn't find any fear in themself.

"Shall we?" they asked.

The others stepped aside, clearing a path for them. Quinn passed through it and led them into the darkness, Vincent on one side, Luis on the other, the narrow trail ahead lit by nothing but the moon and the gentle flickering of Valerie's fire.

After a few moments, the silent procession reached the lake. It was the first time Quinn was willingly inviting most of them into their space, this sanctuary that had found them more than they had found it, but somehow, it didn't feel invasive. It felt right to let them into this part of themself, voluntarily and on their own terms.

The water murmured its quiet greeting when Quinn halted a few feet away from it and turned around.

"I can't promise that this ritual will work." They looked from one face to another. "But I promise that I will try everything I can. And I... I want to thank you for trusting me with this, and for helping me. Really."

The witches nodded solemnly.

"I'll need a circle," Quinn said. "Can you..."

They were moving before they even had to finish their sentence. The seven women spread around them in a wide ring, dresses rustling against the tall grass, jewelry clinking as they reached out and took each others' hands. Only one gap, the one between Rhia and Valerie, remained intentionally open.

"Come in," Quinn said, gesturing for the ghosts to join them inside. Hannah was clinging to Vincent's hand, looking apprehensive. Valerie shivered slightly when her dress brushed against her leg but didn't move.

Luis stepped into the circle slowly. Quinn could tell it wasn't because he was scared or weirded out; he was anxious, his hands fidgeting at his sides, his eyes darting around without meeting anyone else's. "Are you sure I should be here?" he quietly asked when he came to a halt in front of them. "I... I don't think I can really help with any—"

"Yes, you can." Quinn tilted their head back to offer him a nervous smile. "My grandma said to take someone I trust with me to ground me. All you need to do is hold me."

Luis stood up a little straighter. "I can do that."

Quinn's smile softened as they thought back to the last time they'd been at the lake together. "I know."

"Quinn?" They jumped at the sound of Vincent's voice. He was still standing right next to them, but his eyes were on Luis. "Can you ask him if he has the spirit box with him?"

"Vincent wants to know if you have the spirit box with you," they told Luis.

He immediately scrambled to fish it out of the pocket of his coat. Around them, the other witches winced at the horrifying noise that erupted, but Quinn barely paid any notice to them. "Where is he standing?" Luis asked Quinn.

They pointed right next to them. "Here."

Luis turned a little so he was looking directly at Vincent. "Hey, Casper," he said. "Last time we'll talk through this hell device, huh?"

Vincent let out a small laugh, his eyes shining as he studied Luis, tracing his features like he intended to memorize them. "I wanted to thank you," he softly said. "For helping Quinn. For believing them. For... for listening to me."

"Thank you for talking to me. And for making things less boring around here. And for what you said the other day, about my art and stuff." Luis rubbed a hand over his nose.  "I... I've never even seen you, but I'm going to—Fuck, I'll miss you, Vincent."

"Me too," Vincent said, so quiet the spirit box just barely picked it up. "This is probably horribly old-fashioned but... Please take care of Quinn when I'm gone. And of yourself, too."

"That is horribly old-fash—"

"I will," Luis cut them off, his gaze resting on Quinn.

Even though Luis couldn't see it, Vincent smiled. "Goodbye, Luis."

"Bye," he whispered and turned off the spirit box.

In the sudden silence, Quinn drew in a shuddering breath. "Okay. I think we can begin."

On their signal, Valerie reached out and took Rhia's hand. The completion of the circle brought with it a new sort of quiet, muffling the sounds from outside. The air was heavy with the combined smell of fire, air, and earth, the three elements combined to serve one purpose: to protect Quinn. Weeks ago, Quinn had hated the way the magick felt when it pressed down on them, almost oppressive; now, it draped itself over them like a blanket, warm and comforting, and all Quinn could feel was the love it held.

They met Valerie's and Rhia's eyes to find both of them nodding encouragingly at them.

If the hitch in Luis's breath was anything to go by, he too felt the sudden presence of magick.

Quinn took his hand as they sank into the grass, pulling him down next to them. Crossing their legs, they looked up at the faces surrounding them and said, "I'm going to say the spell to enter the in-between in a moment. My grandmother warned me that I... might lose myself in that space. If I'm not back in an hour, I need you to break the circle and try to wake me up." They looked to Luis, who was watching them with wide eyes, and slid their hand into his. "Don't let go."

He held onto their hand a little tighter. "I won't."

With their free hand, Quinn pulled the athame from its pouch. Closing their eyes, they clutched its grip and began to recite the spell.

To finish what's been incomplete

I must go to where the three worlds meet.

On one side, life

On the other, the beyond

Two veils to divide what's still here and what's gone.

Beyond the first, I wish to go tonight

To see those near but out of sight

To join them there and ease their plight

To send them forth into the light.

Thus part for me, veil of life;

And I shall return when the time is right.

Quinn took a deep breath. "So mote it be."

For a few seconds, everything was deadly quiet. Quinn tried to sense if something had changed, but they didn't feel any different, which was somehow more terrifying than anything else could've been. With their eyes still squeezed shut, they sat there, not daring to open them for fear of realizing it hadn't worked.

Finally, Joy's voice broke the silence. "Holy shit."

Quinn's head snapped up without their doing. They were still sitting in the exact same position, but everything else had changed. Their body was... double. There was their real one, solid and still, and then there was another one superimposed on top of it, translucent and so, so light as they slowly lifted one arm.

"This is so much cooler than Ghostbusters," Jun breathed.

Quinn looked up, then, and saw what he meant. To one side of the circle, a veil had appeared. It seemed to glow from the inside out, shimmery and golden, and moved, ever so slightly, as if swaying in an imperceptible breeze.

On the other side of the circle, there was a second veil: this one was colorless and translucent enough that Quinn could see right through it at the faces of the other witches, who looked right through them in turn. Threads of gold led from behind the veil to the circle they were standing in—as Quinn followed them with their eyes, they realized that there was one for each ghost, some thicker and more luminous than others, all of them disappearing inside the ghosts' chests. The thickest and brightest out of all of them was the one that was connected to Quinn.

This was what anchored them to the world of the living, then.

Shakily, they stood, glancing down at their body remaining static and senseless. "It worked," they murmured and looked over at Vincent.

He was standing only an arm's length away, his eyes wide with wonder. Slowly, Quinn reached across the space between them, almost jumping when they felt the coarse texture of his shirt beneath their fingertips. They stared at each other for a second, both frozen.

Then, Quinn dropped their athame and crashed into him, his arms solid and warm as he pulled them in.

"I've wanted to do this the entire time," Quinn half-laughed, half-sobbed into his shoulder, clinging to him as if their life depended on it while his hand cupped the back of their head.

Vincent's response was a disbelieving noise that Quinn could feel in the vibration of his chest, the shaking of his narrow shoulders.

A moment later, a second set of arms wrapped around Quinn from the side—Jun, his eyes shining traitorously as he squeezed them—and then a third and a fourth. Before Quinn knew it, they were in the center of a ghost group hug, a messy tangle of limbs and incredulous laughter. They could have stood there like that for hours, cataloging every detail; like the scent of cigarette smoke and perfume that clung to Joy; the careful softness of Hannah's touch when she slipped her hand into Quinn's; the way Jun hugged them, tight and protective, his chin resting lightly on top of their hair.

Eventually, though, they had to pull back. "I don't think I can stay here for long," they said with a glance at their own thread of life, which had already grown a little bit duller in just the last few moments. "Can... can you guys see the golden lines?"

The others nodded. Josie gave an experimental pluck to the one that connected her to the world of the living. "Only now. It's like you gave us super-vision!"

Smiling at her, Quinn accepted the athame Vincent handed them at that moment. Their grandmother had been right; now that they were here, they knew exactly what to do. "Who would like to go first? You two?"

Caleb and Josie exchanged a glance before both giving a small nod. Quinn took a step closer to them, their hand shaking slightly when they lifted the athame to the thread tethered to Josie's chest. They expected it to be hard to cut, but it wasn't—at least, not physically. In the end, the athame sliced right through it, its golden essence disintegrating within seconds. It was the sensation that was jarring; as soon as the blade touched it, Quinn was overcome with a wave of confusion and fear so intense they almost dropped the dagger.

"Everything okay?" Vincent asked, alarmed, steadying them with one hand on their elbow.

"Y-yeah. I just—I think I felt what Josie felt when she died" They shook their head to get rid of the second-hand anxiety and turned to Josie again. "Are you feeling okay?"

She looked down at where the thread had been a moment ago and nodded slowly. "I don't feel any different, I don't think."

Quinn released a relieved exhale and beckoned Caleb closer. Crouching in front of him, they brushed a curl out of his eyes and asked, "Ready?"

He glanced at his sister and squared his shoulders. "Ready."

This time, the feeling was less intense. Quinn wasn't sure if it was because he hadn't really known what was going on when he'd died or because they were prepared for it this time, but they were relieved nevertheless. "There," they quietly said. "Off you go."

Vincent was the next one to kneel in front of the two little ghosts, pulling both of them into a tight hug. "You two were very brave."

"Not to mention absolute champions at playing tag," Jun added, ruffling their hair.

Somehow, Joy, out of all of them, was the one who was so affected she couldn't speak—she simply hugged both of them, tight, and gave them a gentle nudge towards the veil.

Josie grabbed her brother's hands and they walked, Caleb shuffling along in his too-big pajama, until they disappeared behind the veil, there and then gone.

Next to Quinn, Vincent released a relieved exhale. He looked at Hannah next. "Your turn, Miss Rosenthal."

Hannah, although looking apprehensive, walked over to Quinn, her hands folded behind her as she looked expectantly up at them. Her anchor dissolved with a surge of guilt and regret that felt heavier than any child her age should ever have to carry. When it was gone, something in her shoulders loosened a little. "Thank you. Please take good care of Suzie for me."

Quinn was confused for a moment before they remembered the doll from the antiques store. "I will."

Satisfied, Hannah turned to Vincent. "Thank you for keeping me company," she earnestly said. "And for the stories. I truly think you would have been a wonderful writer."

Pulling her into a tight embrace, Vincent said, "Mh. Maybe in the next life, I'll write a story about you. The Tales of The Brave Hannah Rosenthal."

"I'm not that brave," Hannah said, patting his back. "But I am very smart, so maybe put that in the title."

Laughing, Vincent let go of her and stood, offering her his hand. Hannah took it and let him lead her towards the veil, only turning around once more to wave to Jun and Joy, who answered by blowing her kisses. She stepped through the veil without a second of hesitation, leaving only the older ghosts.

Quinn made quick business of severing their ties to the world of the living, mostly because they couldn't stand to take any longer than they had to. The emotions that had tethered them here were far stronger than the little ones': Joy's was all white-hot anger, both at her former boyfriend but even more so at herself; Jun's was suffocating guilt for having been so stupid, the image of his mom and sister flashing in Quinn's mind.

"Thanks for everything," Jun said when it was done, pulling them into another hug. "Take care of yourself, okay? Don't worry your mom too much."

"I won't," Quinn promised, squeezing him back.

With Joy, they exchanged a nod, her lips curled into the hint of a smile. "I gotta be honest, I didn't expect you to actually help all of us," she told Quinn. "So... thanks. And you're welcome for the rad music recommendations."

"I will treasure them forever," Quinn chuckled. They were only half-joking.

Taking a deep breath, Joy turned to Jun. "You know I'm not into that sappy shit, but... Thank you for putting up with me all these years. Even when I was a crazed poltergeist."

"Are you kidding?" Jun's cheeks gained a little more color. "You're the best person I ever could have gotten stuck with here. I would die again a hundred times if it meant I got to meet you. Preferably a little bit later, but... you know."

Joy stared at him for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before she got onto her tiptoes and pulled him into a kiss that seemed softer than Quinn ever would have thought her capable of. When they separated, Joy grabbed Jun's hand and grinned at him. "Let's see if your theory's true then."

Jun sucked in a nervous breath and threw another smile at Vincent and Quinn.

And then, they were gone too.

Swallowing thickly, Quinn turned to face Vincent. "Ready?"

He nodded, not taking his eyes off them even as they put the athame to his life thread. When Quinn hesitated, warring with themself, he put his hand on top of theirs, guiding their motion as they sliced through it. Quinn had braced themself for all sorts of horrible emotions; anger at his dad, disappointment, fear. Instead, the only thing they felt was a quiet sort of resignation and a love fiercer than anything Quinn had ever felt.

"I hope you get to see them," they whispered, lowering the athame.

Vincent glanced down then, a look of utter relief washing over his face as he realized that it had worked—that he was going to the other side and wouldn't have to sacrifice himself once again. That he, for the first time in his entire life, was free.

Quinn studied his features, desperate to memorize the way he looked then; eager and happy and more solid than ever. They had only known him for a month, but somehow they couldn't imagine what a world without him would be like. In a few moments, they would know.

"I'll miss you," they told him, their voice cracking on the last word as the tears they had spent the entire time holding back finally spilled over.

Vincent stepped closer, carefully cradling their face between his hands. His thumbs wiped away their tears even as his own eyes glistened with them. "I know."

"Once you're gone," Quinn hiccuped, "I won't be able to reach out to you. I don't have anything of yours."

Vincent stilled, considering, before he pressed something cold and smooth into their palm. "There," he quietly said, offering them a small smile.

Quinn loved that smile. They loved Vincent, every bit of him, in a way that was so all-consuming, so brutal, they doubted time or space would ever erase it. They were going to miss their nights in the classroom, the ease with which they always found each other, the simple comfort of being with someone who saw them so thoroughly and who they could see in turn.

"You know..." he said, his voice wavering slightly, "I've been dead for almost a hundred years, but the last weeks with you made me feel more alive than I've ever felt."

"Me too," Quinn whispered.

Looking at him, they realized how different he was than he'd been when they had first met him in that classroom, drenched in moonlight and melancholy. Then, they had seen themself in his sadness and his longing; now, they saw themself in the quiet confidence he held himself with, the light in his eyes rekindled by a belief in something brighter.

They were no longer two lonely creatures, and they were no longer trapped.

How strange, that it had needed a ghost and a coffin maker to teach Quinn that there was more to life than fear.

"I wish you didn't have to go. How am I ever going to fully learn the Charleston?"

"You and Luis can learn together. Having a physical dance partner might make things easier."

"I don't mind people who aren't physical," Quinn sniffled. "That would be horribly superficial."

Vincent laughed softly. If they could have, Quinn would have bottled the sound and taken it back with them to keep on their shelf for a rainy day. If they could have, they would have stayed there with him forever just to hear it over and over again.

As if he knew what they were thinking, Vincent said, more serious this time: "We'll meet again." His voice was so steady, so sure, that Quinn almost believed him. They wanted to believe him more than anything.

"Go now," they managed. "You've been here long enough."

Vincent hesitated for a second before he took their face in both hands once more and pressed a kiss to their forehead. It was so soft, barely the ghost of a touch, but somehow, it was enough to ease the pain at least a tiny bit.

With silent tears still running down their cheeks, Quinn watched as he made his way towards the veil. One step away from it, he turned around one last time and asked, "Do you promise?"

Quinn knew he was talking about what he'd asked the night before. This time, the words left their lips easily. "I promise."

Nodding, Vincent lifted two fingers in a small salute, his expression full of relief and an unfamiliar sort of hope—both for himself, and for them. "See you on the other side."

He pulled in a deep breath. Squared his shoulders. Took another step.

The shimmery expanse of gold parted around him and then fell back into place, soundless and final.

And just like that, Vincent Baker was gone.

For a few long moments, Quinn just stood there, watching the veil sway gently. It was so quiet now, so empty. Already, they felt a space inside of them opening, some part of them hollowing to make room for the grief that was sure to fill it as soon as they went back.

As long as they stayed there, they could pretend it wasn't true.

They looked down at the athame in their hand, the string that connected them to life. It would have been so easy to sever it and step through that veil to follow them. Distantly, Quinn wondered what emotion they would feel the moment the blade sliced through it, if it would be relief or instant regret or something else entirely.

But then, they looked down at themself again, slumped in the grass with their head resting against Luis's shoulder, their hands still firmly intertwined. Ever so faintly, they could feel the warmth of his palm against theirs, the coolness of his rings against their skin. Shifting their gaze, Quinn saw the other witches standing around them, keeping vigil, protecting them in a way that was so utterly unconditional, like sheltering them had always been a foregone conclusion.

Their thread of life burned brighter than ever.

With their eyes fixed on their family, Quinn turned their back on the golden veil and followed their own anchor back to where they belonged.

***

When Quinn came to, Luis was holding them and their cheeks were wet, the tears hot against their skin in the cold night air.

At the first flutter of their eyelids, the circle around them rippled with relief, Valerie audibly exhaling.

Luis's grip on their hand loosened the tiniest bit as his other hand came up to brush the tears from beneath their eyes, just like Vincent had done only a moment before. Catching Quinn's gaze, he softly asked, "Did it work?"

Quinn looked out at the clearing. It lay dark and empty before them; there was a sudden vacuum in the place where the ghosts had stood, their absence somehow more palpable than their presence had ever been.

"Yeah." They closed their fingers tighter around the pocket watch in their palm. "It did."