A/N: I was this close to deleting the first part, but then made an epiphany of how it could be important later so *shrugs shoulders*. Anyways, hope you enjoy Simon seeking answers, things will be picking up so enjoy! As always, I love reading your comments and thoughts, so keep them coming. I'll try to respond, but it's hard not to spoil anything, lol. 

Chapter 38

Simon's POV

With Sarah's advice and Sam's previous words of encouragement running through my head like a mantra, I decided that I needed to find that closure. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant, or if I'd find everything I needed, but it was long overdue. I'd try, and that in itself was something I deserved.

I had spent the last couple of nights at Sarah and Aspen's place, giving myself some time to relax and plan things out, especially with how I'd approach Vince. I was certain that he'd be his usually cryptic and somewhat abrasive self, so I had back-up plans on top of other back-up plans. Talking to Vince about it was going to be painful, no doubt about that, so I was aware that it may take a while, possibly days, for me to paint the whole picture and fully understand everything.

In the meantime, I was going to visit my childhood home, something I had put off for the month of me being here. The memories, both good and terrifying, were something I was equally unsure of whether I was prepared or not to face it, but it was something that needed to be done. I needed to see them, talk to them, and pay my respects, finally. I owed them that much.

But as I had neared the street my home was, all that courage and preparation I had seemed to suddenly falter.

In hindsight, I should've seen it coming. But seeing it stick out like a sore thumb among the renovated and even new houses nearby, it really did look like the home had been lost in time. From what I could see, the paint had faded, a few shingles missing, the chimney stack crumbling, a few of its bricks sitting precariously on the roof.

As I got closer, the yard was a different story. From where I stood, the grass was trimmed pristinely, the fence looked like it had recently gotten a fresh coat of white paint, a tree I didn't recall off to the side that shaded a garden next to the house that hadn't been there before. If I hadn't known any better, it looked like a different house. Even our front porch looked like it had been swept, fresh flowers sat between the two rocking chairs.

And yet, I still could feel the pressure building in my chest, the sight of my home finally in front of me. I felt like a foreigner, a stranger here. The fence that stood between me and my childhood home felt like an invisible barrier, trying to push me away from here. Despite spending half my life here, it didn't feel like home anymore.

I breathed in and out. Then again, and again, until I finally felt like I wasn't about to break down again. I probably should have brought Aspen with me, or even Xavier. Anyone that could come and pick the pieces of me if I shattered. But I was determined to at least try and do this on my own.

But I knew going into that house, even setting foot in our front yard, I was scared. Stupidly scared of the emotions and feelings I'd dredge up from just being here; in the same exact place my life had fallen apart.

And with that, my vision blurred, my knees weak as I stumbled backward, stepping away from the house that once held my happiest moments. Nicole's sixteenth birthday, my parent's throwing us birthday parties, painting the house with mom's favorite colors. The younger ones and their first steps and first shifts. My parents getting the adoption approved for baby Stephen.

I walked away from there, turning back the way I came when I could hear my name being called. I ignored it, trying to wipe the tears away as it got louder and louder. It went silent before I felt two arms wrap around my torso, someone resting their head on my back.

"Simon!" A female voice muffled into my back. "It's really you, you're here."

I didn't recognize the voice, and even looking down at the small girl, I didn't recognize her either. It wasn't until I blinked past some stray tears and saw Lucas coming towards us, that I put two and two together.

"Geez, Sally. Easy, wouldya?" He said, clearly out of breath from chasing after his daughter. "Sorry about that, Simon."

I hadn't seen her in her human form, and she had grown so much since I'd last seen her that I hadn't recognized her. Had I ran into her in her human form the first time, I probably would've known that she was definitely Lucas's daughter. Her eyes were the same color and sharpness that looked as intimidating as her father's. And yet her smile emulated Jane's, one so soft and genuine that had it been on Lucas's face, it would've been comical.

"You remember me?" I asked before returning the hug.

"Remember you?" Lucas spoke. "She never stopped talking about you."

Sally giggled before looking up at me. "I told you that you could come here."

I squeezed her hand. "You sure did, didn't you?"

Lucas patted her back before smiling at us. "Why don't you come with us, we were just about to head to her grandmother's."

"Oh, I shouldn't intrude." I frowned, jabbing my thumb in any direction away from here. "I should be going anyways."

Lucas chuckled before insisting, "Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Her grandmother knows you, and she's been waiting for years to see you, Simon."

"What?"

"Granny!" Sally had turned to look behind Lucas, and then I realized exactly who he was referring to. Miss Helen. The lady across the street that had watched all of us grow up. She sat in her rocking chair on her porch, trimming some flowers next to her with a box of ribbon. She quickly wrapped Sally into a hug before waving at us. But grandmother? I didn't remember her having children.

"Grandma?" I asked Lucas, as Sally ran up the porch.

Lucas frowned a little. "Jane's side. Technically Jane's aunt. They were estranged for a while. Then Jane left, and well quite frankly, I didn't know who to turn to when it came to Sally."

"Jane," I said cautiously. "She really left like that?"

He hummed, before shaking his head. "It's alright, I've been spending more time with Sally than ever before, and well Sally's never been happier with Helen and me. Of course, she misses her mom, and so do I, but Jane's always been stubborn."

Before I could offer my condolences, he kept walking, looking at me expectantly to follow. Walking up the nostalgic steps, felt so surreal. I never thought I'd be walking up these steps again, or seeing Helen ever again.

Helen was still her cheerful self, getting up so fast from her chair to greet me like she wasn't pushing eighty years old. She had gotten some wrinkles, and more white hairs, but I knew better than to point them out.

"Oh, Simon. Is it really you?" She grasped my shoulders, before burying her head into my chest. I hugged her back, the memories of spending the weekends helping her with her gardening or helping to fix the house rushing back. "Oh, it is. Oh, I've missed you so much, my dear boy."

"I'm here," I told her. "I'm here."

The four of us stayed on the porch for hours, catching Sally and Helen up with everything that had happened. We helped Helen with her flower bouquets, even helped rake leaves from the lawn. And despite being just across the street from my childhood home, I didn't dwell on the sad memories while being with Helen, Lucas, and Sally. Instead, I was reminiscing about the good ones, and creating some new ones with them.

As Lucas and I set the last trash bags of leaves and branches down near the gate, he turned to look at me with a solemn look. "Is it alright if we talk in private?"

"Sure," I said confused, as I watched Helen usher Sally inside to eat dinner. He gestured to the rocking chairs, and we took a seat there, sipping some lemonade Helen had made earlier. "What did you wanna discuss?"

He sighed, before running a nervous hand through his hair. "I don't think I formally apologized to you."

"Apologize?"

"For what happened sixteen years ago."

I blinked, the silence filling the air uncomfortably. I gulped before asking, "why would you need to apologize?"

He opened then closed his mouth before shaking his head and looking across the street, gazing at my childhood home. "After Jane left, I tried to understand what happened. How and where everything went so wrong. I wondered why I didn't do anything to stop Vince, especially when I knew what he did was wrong."

"But how does this have to do with you?"

"He was my best friend, Simon. I should've said-done something," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, I was the only one who knew about you and him."

"Being mates?" I frowned. "You knew?"

He hummed before sighing. "I was there when he found out. Before you told him when he was sixteen. We ran into you by chance, and I could tell that something was different with the way he looked at you. I had my suspicions, but it was only confirmed when I overheard you tell him two years later."

"Oh," was all I could think to say.

"I asked him about it once, when we were younger. How things would change between him and Sarah, since they were dating way before he turned sixteen, as you know," he continued. I nodded along, trying to piece a timeline in my head. "He told me to forget about it, to ignore it. But I remember one day, out of the blue, we got drunk with our friends. And just as they all left he told me he was scared."

"Scared?"

He nodded, before taking another sip of lemonade, letting the edge of the glass rest near his lip. "And well that was so out of character for Vince. He never got scared. Or didn't care to admit it or show it. He didn't elaborate, and even when I pushed for an explanation, he brushed it off."

He set the glass down, before turning to look at me. "So, I've been spending a lot of my free time recently trying to figure out why. Why did Vince feel so scared? Was that why he chose to do that to you? To reject you and do...that to your family; all because he was scared?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, the years of similar questions that plagued me swirling through my mind.

"And it only made me realize how stupid I was, how stupid I still am. I mean how could I call myself his friend, when I didn't even know what he was scared of. I didn't know what kinds of things he was going through or what he was even thinking. And to just let him do something so horrendous that it would wreck so many lives, so many families, even my own?"

I bit my lip before saying, "how could you possibly have known when he didn't tell you? You tried asking him, but he refused."

He shook his head, the frustration clearly building as he spoke, "I could've tried harder. I should have. With him, and with you. I could've said something. Done something to stop him from making the worst mistake of his life. I knew of the wrong accusations, knew that it was a farce, and yet I just played along with the lies."

"He was your friend, Lucas," I told him. He was starting to sound like everyone else, the same piteous tone, and it reminded me of my conversation with Sarah. All the could haves, should haves, etc.

"No," he said firmly. "A friend wouldn't let him do that. Not to you, not to anyone. I mean your siblings were Sally's age, younger even. I couldn't imagine-"

"Stop," I interrupted. "Please, just stop. What's done is done."

"But-"

"Lucas," I told him, gripping his forearm. "Please, I've spent the last sixteen years wondering why; letting it eat me alive. Don't let it do that to you. You have Sally to worry about."

He forced a smile before looking across the street at the desolate house. "Regardless, I'm sorry. Even if it means little to you. And you're right about Sally. After Jane and I started fighting, we really were neglecting her needs, which is probably why she had run off and found you. To which I'm grateful for. I think it really made me prioritize her, it made me realize just how much I needed to be there for Sally, even if Jane wanted to leave and abandon us like that. And the crazy part is I don't blame Jane, I don't hate her for that. And I still love her, even if she wants nothing to do with us."

"The bond makes us do crazy things, doesn't it?" I joked.

He glanced my way. "You know how the saying goes, if you love something, set it free. And I think for Jane, she needed to leave to make her happy."

---

"Does Aspen know you're here?" Vince asked, almost immediately as I stepped in the room carrying my duffel. He was on his laptop on the couch, the television playing something softly in the background.

"Um." I placed my bag down before scratching my head. "Nope."

He blinked, before shaking his head and continuing to type. Maybe it was the serotonin from being with Sally and Helen earlier, or from my discussion with Lucas, but I was feeling bolder than normal. Normally, I'd sit the furthest possible seat from Vince, but I decided to sit in the middle, within arm's reach from him as he continued to work on his computer. I could tell he was anxious, glancing out of the corner of his eyes, pausing his typing to turn towards me.

"Seriously?" He scoffed. I frowned, noticing the same tense feelings he was feeling from the other day still present. "What're you doing here?"

"I can't be here?"

He shook his head again before jabbing his thumb at the bed. "If you're tired, sleep there. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I'm not tired," I told him. "I wanted to talk."

"Talk?" he scoffed. He rubbed his temple before turning to look at me. "Really?"

I nodded, before asking, "what are you doing?"

"Work," he responded curtly. He didn't elaborate, only continued to stare at his emails on the screen.

I hummed, letting the silence grow again before I decided to lay down. Grabbing the pillow, I placed it next to Vince, resting my head a mere few inches from his leg. He tensed, but surprisingly didn't move, just continued to type on his computer.

And for a second, it reminded me of sitting next to Sam while he worked. We'd be silent for an hour, then talking for hours like it was nothing. The silence was never awkward around him, no, it was more the opposite. It was inviting, soothing. With Vince, it was painful to watch. Watching Vince type made me wonder what it'd be like if he placed his hand on my head like Sam, rubbing soothing patterns through my hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. Would it ever be like that between us?

I wanted to slap myself for getting carried away, trying to imagine something so implausible.

A couple of minutes passed in silence before he asked, "are we not going to talk about what happened?"

"Why should we talk about it?"

"You wanted to talk," he said incredulously, pressing the bridge of his nose. "Besides, Aspen is not going to be happy if it happens again."

"He's harmless," I brushed off. "Mostly."

"He looked ready to murder me that morning."

I waved my hands. "No, he wouldn't."

He looked down at me like it was a blatant lie. "Seriously," I told him. "He means well, and I already told him it was just a dream."

"It didn't seem like just a dream," he replied. "Most people don't scream when they wake up from one."

"Nightmare, then," I corrected, a recurring one, I wanted to add. He sighed, before shutting the laptop closed, and that when I remembered the wound I made. "How's your arm?"

He raised a brow, before looking at his upper arm. "It's mostly healed. It didn't hurt."

I pouted, poking at the arm. "Liar. I could feel it. You were hurting that morning too."

He blinked, before looking at the television screen. He didn't say anything, and it made me wonder.

"Did I hurt you somewhere else?"

He shook his head, sighing loudly before responding. "I had a dream that night too. Nightmare. I guess I was still shaken up about it."

"Oh," I drawled. "What about?"

I didn't expect him to elaborate, especially when he refused to look at me again, zoning out at a corner of the room. And in a soft tone, he replied, "you."

"Me?"

"You," he repeated. "Sixteen years ago. That memory."

"Oh," I said softly. "I had the same dream."

He gulped. "It was different though."

I looked up at him, his hands were starting to shake again. I prompted, "how so?"

"My family...they were there, all of them," he explained, shaking his head. "D-dead."

"Dead?"

He nodded, and I could feel a surge of emotions emitting from him like he was seeing it replay in his head. "Yours too. But..."

"But what?"

He took a deep breath in and exhaled heavily before turning to look down at me. "You asked me to kill you."

I bit my lip, thinking about all the times I had wondered the same thing. Was he simply scared like Lucas mentioned? But even so, it didn't explain why he did everything else. With my family, or kicking me out. None of it made any sense. But I wanted it to, I wanted it to make sense; so I can understand why I went through what I did. I deserved to know.

So I looked him dead in the eye, narrowing the, before asking him, "why didn't you?"

A strange emotion flashed on his face before he blinked. "Wh-what-"

"Why didn't you?" I repeated. "Why kill them and not me too? Why not kill me instead, if you hated me that much? You should've just killed me with them."

"I," he faltered. "I couldn't let that happen."

My jaw clenched, getting annoyed by the second. I sat up to look at him harshly. "What are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't let you die."

"Why not?"

"I just couldn't," he exasperated. "I didn't want-"

"No," I shoved at his chest. "Why? Why do those things? Why not just reject me, or just kick me out. What did my family possibly do-"

"I don't know!" He cried out, a pained expression plastered on his face, but it only made me angrier. I was the one in pain, not him. He didn't get to feel hurt by this. "I just don't!"

"You do know! You're the only one that knows why!" I shouted, feeling the tightness in my chest build, but I continued to pummel at his chest, the tears starting again. "Why would you do that? Why?"

"I can't." He balled his fists, gritting his teeth. "I can't explain."

"I need to know why, Vince," I tried to glare at him through the tears. "What did I do to make this all happen?"

"It's complicated," he said.

"Then uncomplicate it, you bastard," I cried, slamming my fist on his chest harder. "Why Vince? Why?"

He took the punches, even though I was sure it would hurt later, but the emotions were too strong for me to stop. Years of not knowing anything, feeling lost and guilty really took a toll on me. And now he refused to tell me why. It wasn't fair, and I needed him to know that.

"I can't," I heard him say over my muffled cries taking in all my punches until I finally stopped, as I let out earth-shattering sobs into his chest. "I just can't."