He didn’t dream so much as he drifted. His mind dwelled in the depths of darkness, a numb void of safety and peace within himself. Floating and suspended in nothingness. It was a place of healing, safe from all the things that burned and hurt. It was a safe haven when things became too much. Occasionally his mind would rise, rousing from his deep unconscious into a looser state of sleep.

It was in these moments, suspended halfway between wakefulness and sleep, that he would remember. Memories would filter into him, coming from the void that had blackened part of his mind and slipping into the light. They would flit past him, flashes and glimpses of scenes that had been taken from him, filling in the gaps between memories he had, placing Dylan and Lily where there had previously been emptiness. No memory dwelled for too long. He didn’t reach out to latch onto them. He let them drift past, sinking into place where they should be, filling his head and his chest with warmth.

All the while, the bond within his heart pulsed with a steady and comforting heat.

While remembering wasn’t painful, it was overwhelming. A new chaos of emotions and sensory memories that he’d forgotten flooding into him. It was a lot to take in and a lot to process. When it became too much, his mind would draw away, sinking back into the blessed pool of nothingness to let him recuperate before new memories could filter in.

Then he would rise again, remember some more, and then sink back away into darkness.

* * *

Coming fully back to consciousness was a strange thing. He wasn’t aware of it at first. The things he heard, the things he felt, the things he smelled, they were all coming to him through a thick blanket of fog, not quite connecting to his physical state.

He became aware of things gradually. He could feel the plush mattress beneath him, which his body sank into comfortably, but he could feel the stiffness of his joints and muscles from being far too idle for far too long. He could feel the blankets laid over most of him, heavy and thick. He heard voices, muffled through his own struggle to consciousness, but familiar all the same. The quick and light cant of Cynthia, sarcasm and playfulness edging all her words and a smile always in her tone. Jesse, voice soft and rhythmic, a soothing stream, steady and sure. The deeper rumble of Malcolm, like far-off thunder, not the kind of storm that threatens but the kind that lulls one to sleep on a warm, summer night. Rajiah, strong and sure, words edged and cut with worry. Arulean, deep and even, measured and careful, not uncaring but firm and sturdy.

Their scents came to him a moment later, curling around him, settling within him with every breath. Arulean, heavy and smoky, a blanket of absolution and protection. Rajiah, sweet and earthy, a promise of comfort. The witches, smelling of sage, earth and bark, of smoke and herbs and camp fires, familiar and comforting in their own way, important to Blake despite not being members of the pack.

A scent sweet, rich and dark as honey, with an biting edge of cinnamon and spice. Strong. Protective. Comforting. Familiar.

Achingly familiar.

Dylan.

Blake’s eyes cracked open, immediately blinking and squinting against the light. He felt his face scrunch up, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing. A soft groan escaped his lips, distant to his ears, but he could feel it rumbling in his throat.

There was silence for a moment, and then a flurry of movement. A flurry of sounds and scents as the air in the room was swept and churned. Noises. Far too many noises. He distantly realized that most of the voices were saying his name, but words were having a harder time piercing the haze lingering in his mind.

The flame in his chest burned, warm, surging with pulsing heat. There was a fluttering of hope, a cool rush of relief, a sour edge of worry, and an overwhelming fondness that refused to be ignored. Without meaning to, or perhaps fully meaning to, Blake tilted his head, rolling it to the side on the pillow and squinting against the light. There, his eyes fell on Dylan.

The omega sat on the edge of the bed, half twisted and turned, leaning back on one hand to gaze down at Blake. Hazel eyes beautiful where they caught the sun streaming through the windows, alight with all the things he felt through their bond, wide and hopeful. Soft, full lips parted slightly. He wore a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, looking clean but still a mess. There were heavy purple bags beneath his eyes, and the longer strands of his copper hair atop his head were wild and unkempt. Stubble was beginning to grow along his jaw, red in the sunlight.

He was beautiful.

“Dylan,” Blake tried to say, but his voice cracked, hoarse and rough with disuse. His mouth was incredibly dry, and his tongue felt thick and sluggish. The fog around his mind was lifting, slowly but steadily.

His hand twitched, shaking slightly as he reached for Dylan. The omega’s hand shot out, clasping his with warm, calloused fingers, squeezing gently. He smiled, and Blake felt butterflies fill his chest.

Another hand at his other side, resting on his shoulder. He turned to find Cynthia helping him sit up, propping up pillows behind him. Before his mind could form any questions, a glass was pressed into his hand. “Drink this.”

It smelled awful, but her smile of encouragement had him, voicing no protests as she held it to his lips. It tasted as awful as it smelled. Like bitter dirt and a handful of leaves. The drink might have once been warm, but it had cooled to room temperature, making it thick and sour. There was an edge of sweetness, but even the undertones of honey couldn’t mask the taste of the drink.

He coughed, nose wrinkling, and she chuckled softly. “I know. It’s terrible, but it’ll help. I promise.”

He drank all of it, and when the glass was removed, he was left rubbing his tongue on the roof of his mouth and along his teeth, lips curling. But surprisingly, it did help. He felt the churning of nausea and hunger in his gut settle. He felt the tingling in his limbs dissipate. The fog in his mind began to rapidly clear, as if he were thrust far more firmly back into his body.

It was dizzying for a moment before everything settled. The ripples in the pond of his mind stilled. It was quiet, peaceful, and everything settled into place.

And when he looked back at Dylan, all his memories back in place, years of affection bubbling in his chest, mingling with a newfound appreciation and adoration, he found it far less volatile than he was expecting, and instead, peaceful and centering.

The witches shooed Dylan away as they set to work checking up on him, but the omega didn’t go far. He hovered as close to the bed as he was allowed, leaning up against one of the wardrobes with his arms crossed over his chest, a pout on his lips. Arulean and Rajiah were there, a steady pulse of support from across the room, keeping to themselves lest they overwhelm him.

They were in his old room, he realized. The room he shared with his family. He could smell the faint traces of them and their familial scent, but none of it was fresh. Adrien’s crib was empty, and Lily’s bed wasn’t slept in. The freshest scents of his children clung to Rajiah and Dylan.

The witches fluttered around him. They checked his vitals, gazed into his eyes, their hands hovering over him as they glowed white with magic. He felt their spells shift over his skin, warm and familiar. The air was smoky with burning herbs. He let it wrap around him, leaning back into his pillows while they looked him over. He was used to the poking and prodding after months of enduring it while they tried to figure out his memory curse.

All the while, he kept his eyes locked on Dylan. The omega held his gaze from his spot against the wardrobe, eyes unwavering and intense. His expression was stony and blank, but Blake could see the cracks at the edges of his eyes and at the slight downturn of his mouth. He could feel it through their bond. The overwhelming need to touch. The worry. The desperate need to be near, held in check solely by an iron will and discipline. Blake did his best to send his reassurances, but he was feeling a very similar chaos of emotions, a storm that only years of exercising patience was able to keep in check.

“What happened?” Cynthia finally asked, breaking through the moment.

He turned to look at her, finding her sitting on the edge of his bed. Jesse stood by her, Malcolm hovering nearby as he put out the smoldering herbs. Cynthia’s lips were twisted into a small frown, brows furrowed. “Dylan said you woke up after the full moon and started convulsing out of nowhere.”

Jesse moved around Cynthia, reaching over to press the back of her hand to his forehead, brows creased in worry as she pursed her lips. Her hand was cool and glowing slightly as it touched his skin. “You don’t seem to have a fever, and we couldn’t detect anything wrong with you. Not physically. Even after you were first brought in.” She pulled back, and movement caught his eye as Arulean and Rajiah stepped up to the foot of the bed.

Rajiah immediately sat on the bed, legs curling under him, while Arulean stood over him, hands clasped behind his back. “Dylan carried you most of the way back himself, but when he caught sight of me, he called out and I carried you the rest of the way. You two ended the night at the edges of our territory, so it was quicker to fly you back.”

Rajiah chewed at his bottom lip. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Blake blinked, surprise trickling through him. “Two days?”

“We were going to wake you up but...we could...” Cynthia trailed off, glancing across the room to where Dylan stood, unmoving as he gazed intently at Blake. His face was a careful mask.

Malcolm put a comforting hand on Cynthia’s shoulder, meeting Blake’s gaze steadily as he spoke in a rumbling voice, straight to the point and all the more reassuring for it. “We could feel Abel’s curse moving inside you. We didn’t know what was happening with it, but it was clear that it was causing you distress. We decided that your body had shut down in order to protect you, so we didn’t want to risk waking you up.”

“Speaking of that...” Cynthia’s eyes darted from him to where Dylan stood, biting her bottom lip as her voice softened. “We...don’t really feel much of the curse anymore?”

Jesse crossed her arms, looking worried and thoughtful. “We actually...can’t really feel it at all. It seems like it’s gone, but we aren’t sure if you regained your memories or...”

The room was tense. The air seemed to still as every person in the room collectively held their breath, waiting for his answer. He understood their worry. Either he remembered, or the curse was gone and his memories were wiped forever. He looked to each of them in turn, meeting their waiting eyes, feeling the pressure of their gazes pressing in on him.

Then he looked to Dylan. His mask was cracking, fear outshining his worry, trepidation keeping him in place when it was clear all he wanted was to be at Blake’s side. Blake could feel it in his chest, writhing like a living thing. He breathed out, feeling the words form on his lips, rolling off his tongue, cracked and hoarse, “I remember.”

The whole room seemed to let out a collective breath, tension dissipating as shoulders slumped and smiles threatened to break out across their faces. He kept his eyes on Dylan, watching as the omega exhaled, body shuddering. The churning fear disappeared through their bond, leaving only the whispering breeze of something akin to relief and shock.

“I remember everything,” Blake said, voice a fraction stronger. Then his head tilted to the side, brows raising thoughtfully. “Well...I assume I remember everything. I suppose I wouldn’t know if there was something I couldn’t remember.”

The smallest of smiles quirked Dylan’s lips, amusement trickling through their bond like silver bells.

“How...” Jesse’s voice brought him back to the moment, and back to the fact that there were others in the room. He turned to look at the witches, fixating on Jesse’s face contorting in a combination of confusion and awe. “We tried everything and the curse wouldn’t budge. How did you...?”

“Perhaps it had something to do with the full moon?” Rajiah suggested.

At his side, Arulean nodded thoughtfully. “The moon has been known to have powerful effects on our kind. Powerful and often mysterious. After all these years, not even we fully understand the sway it holds over us. It is possible that the full moon allowed you to tap into the most basic and primal parts of yourself, drawing out your memories.”

Cynthia was already shaking her head. “That was one of our theories, but Blake has experienced several full moons since the curse took hold, and it’s never done anything.”

“It was his first full moon with Dylan since the curse.” Rajiah said thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder at the omega. Dylan still hadn’t moved toward the bed.

“Or perhaps it was the blood moon,” Malcolm said, voice a deep rumble as he rubbed at the closely trimmed beard on his chin. “The blood moon is even more powerful than a full moon for your kind, is it not?”

Blake’s brows furrowed, uncertainty churning in his gut. None of those explanations felt right. He settled back against the mound of pillows, head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t think that’s it. I didn’t wake up with my memories. I woke up like normal. The memories came later. It was very sudden. Kinda all came colliding at once, and I seized up and blacked out.”

“What were you doing right before then?” Cynthia asked.

Jesse was nodding. “Maybe something triggered the curse to dissipate. All spells have a counter. It’s how our magic works. Every spell can be removed, every curse has a stipulation that will shake it from the host. We’ve just never been able to figure out what the counter to this spell was, and Abel has never told us.”

Blake pursed his lips, thinking back to the morning after the blood moon. He had woken up on the cold ground, but the heat that remained post shift had kept him warm. He had been with Dylan, beautiful in the morning light. He had held him close. A tender moment. “I was about to kiss Dylan,” he finally said, brows pinching. “But...we’ve kissed before, since the curse, and it’s never done anything. Plus I never actually got to kiss him before the memories started coming back.”

The witches frowned. Rajiah and Arulean exchanged looks, expressions creased in thought. “Surely there must have been something else?” Jesse said softly. “Something you said? Something you did?”

It was then that it occurred to him, a strange warm tingling ran through his limbs. “Or...accepted something?”

He glanced between the witches, the three of them blinking in surprise and exchanging looks. Malcolm was the one who finally spoke. “I...suppose that’s possible.”

“Do you mind telling us?” Jesse said, leaning forward.

Cynthia pushed her back, ignoring her pout. “If it’s not too personal. We understand if it is, but this could be good for future knowledge when we deal with these types of curses.”

There was a small smile on Blake’s lips, one he couldn’t help if he tried. His gaze drifted back to Dylan, and while the man hadn’t moved, he was no longer as stiff and rigid. Warmth and tingling fondness bounced through their bond. Blake tilted his head, holding up a hand. His arm shook, body still sore and exhausted. Dylan reacted instantly, pushing off the wardrobe and stepping toward the bed.

“I accepted that I would never get my memories back, and that they didn’t matter. Dylan was still my mate.”

Dylan took his hand, and Blake gave a light tug until the omega crawled up onto the bed. He settled in gingerly at Blake’s side, hesitant at first, but sinking in with a relieved sigh as Blake wrapped an arm around him. Dylan molded to his side as if he were made for it, and the warmth of him made Blake’s weariness bearable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the witches exchanging looks, but he didn’t turn to read them. He noticed Arulean and Rajiah stepping closer together, exchanging small smiles. He ignored everyone else in the room, closing his eyes as Dylan nuzzled into his chest and he sighed deeply, resting his cheek atop the man’s head.

With the calming clarity of a slow sunrise, bringing light and color to a still and sleeping landscape, chasing away the muted grays and shadows of the night, he realized the warm bubbling in his chest was the feeling of being exactly where he belonged.

* * *

The snowfall was thick and heavy, fluffy flakes lazily making their way to the ground, wind just slight enough to make them dance. It was a breeze that whispered across his exposed cheeks. A kiss of winter before it inevitably melted into spring.

He sat outside on a small balcony, private and quiet. The white field stretched out before him, ending in trees that were layered with snow. He could hear the voices of the pack somewhere on the lawn, laughter and squeals as people played in the new snowfall. He was bundled up, warmth radiating from his core and kept insulated by the layers he wore, leaving him comfortable. He sat on the stone floor, back against the door.

Dylan sat next to him, an ever-present warmth, solid and sturdy. They leaned together, lending each other silent comfort and warmth, a grounding anchor. Ever since he’d regained his memories, touch had become even more important. Even if it was just sitting close enough for their thighs to brush, or resting his fingers across the back of a couch to touch Dylan’s neck. He touched his mate often, reveling in the physical contact and the sparks that jumped between their skin. It was grounding and a reminder that he was real. They were real, and they were together.

He still regularly had nightmares fueled by churning guilt, the fear of losing his memory again and causing Dylan more pain. Of abandoning his family, or Dylan not forgiving him for the things he’d done or said while the curse had been in place. But whenever he woke up in a cold sweat, breath caught in his throat, groping blindly for the man who shared his bed, Dylan was there. Dylan held him tight and whispered gently in his ear, running fingers through his hair and down his back until he calmed down and sleep could claim him again.

And Blake was able to return the favor. He often caught Dylan staring off into space, focused on nothing in particular, brow creased and lips pursed, eyes lost in thought, dwelling on a reality that wasn’t their own anymore. At these times, he could feel the negativity swirling through their bond, and he knew the man was driving himself in a downward spiral of what-if’s. So he would reach out to him, pull him close, and remind him of the present.

They were each other’s strength, and the physical comfort of having each other there was one Blake found irreplaceable.

Lily crouched in front of them, gathering up the snow that had accumulated on the balcony and packing it into balls before standing and placing them on the railing. She was slowly building a miniature snowman army there, talking softly to herself as she did so, doing different voices for the different snowman, lost in her own little world of make believe.

Adrien was bundled up in Blake’s arms and cradled to his chest. He leaned back against the wall, slouched slightly into Dylan’s sturdy form, eyes locked on the sleeping face of his son.

“I’m sorry.” The apology slipped past his lips, soft and aching.

He felt Dylan turn to him, and he didn’t need to look to feel the confusion trickling through their bond. “For what?”

Blake sighed, lips twisting. “Everything. What you said before...I was selfish. I didn’t think before jumping in front of that spell. I didn’t think about how it would affect you or our family. And because of that, you’ve had to raise them both on your own...I’m sorry.”

An arm wound around his shoulders, and Blake slumped a little as Dylan straightened, pulling him until he leaned back against his solid chest. The arm wound around the front of his shoulders, pulling him back as he nuzzled into Blake’s hair. “I know.” He sighed, breath brushing against Blake’s temples. They spoke in low voices, so as not to disturb Lily. “I was mad at you for a while, but...I know I would’ve done the same thing in your shoes. I wouldn’t have thought twice before jumping in front of a spell for Rajiah. I hate to admit it, but that selflessness is one of the things I love about you.”

Blake smiled, small and private as he curled around the sleeping child in his arms, letting his omega curl around him. “Aw, babe, you’re gonna make me blush,” he mumbled into his scarf.

Dylan’s hold tightened on him. “I’m...I’ll always be hurt by what happened. On some level, I’m still mad at you.”

Blake sighed. “That’s fair.”

“But it’s nothing I can’t move past, and it’s nothing I can’t forgive.” He buried his nose in Blake’s hair, breathing deep and letting it out in a long sigh. He could feel contentment like warm waves coming through their bond. “I’m just happy to have you back.”

“I’m happy to be back.”

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the thick, warm, spicy scent of his mate, feeling his solid strength behind him and steady arms around him. He smelled the soft, clean scent of the child in his arms, and the smell of wildflowers in spring from Lily. He listened to her as she muttered under her breath, and the soft snorts of Adrien’s snores. He felt the rise and fall of Dylan’s breath and the steady tide of warmth through their bond, lapping at his heart like waves.

He felt the chill in the air, distant as it nipped at his skin. He heard the pack in the distance, soft but constant sounds of family. He could smell the pack scent surrounding the castle, a low undertone that connected them all. The snow drifted down gently, sun peeking through clouds as they moved slowly across the sky, shining down and glistening off the gathered snow on the field and trees below.

A crumb of knowledge settled inside him, drifting down like snow before settling in his chest, sending out gentle ripples before they faded to nothing. A peace taking over him. Like the calm surface of a lake in the dead of winter, pristine and beautiful. It was the knowledge that no matter what happened, he could get through it. With Dylan at his side, they could make it. They could keep soldiering on.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s good to be home.”