Notes: I recently rewatched The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo for the first time in years and was inspired to write this after seeing the adorable found family dynamic of the team. This piece takes place shortly after the events of Episode 11, "Coast-to-Ghost." I've also drawn from some elements of Curse of the 13th Ghost for Vincent's backstory, but I don't really count the rest of the movie canon, as it creates so many issues with the timeline (with Flim-Flam inexplicably getting older while the rest of the gang gets younger) and refuses to explain the absence of Scrappy, Bogel, and Weerd; plus WB trying to use Velma's attitude to insist that the magic wasn't real left a bad taste all around.

Additionally, for the purposes of my timeline, I moved the events of episode 10, "Scooby in Kwackyland," to having occurred soon after the Chest was opened in episode 1; Vincent's unhelpful attitude in that episode was rather out of character, and I retconned that as him being still bitter over the Chest being opened.

Also, if anything in the story looks like a reference to something else, it probably is; I have a habit of cross-referencing fandoms via a wink and a nod.

Power did not come freely—that was the unspoken truth about the world of magic. Great power came with a great many strings attached. And to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world? The toll was heavy, indeed—but it was one that Vincent Van Ghoul had no hesitation in bearing.

His family line had its beginnings since the times of the Old Gods—the tale was that his ancestor, Asamad Van Ghoul had been blessed by the Greek goddess of wisdom, Pallas Athena, allowing him to master sorcery with unrivaled skill, and to pass this skill down his family line.

Though Athena had instructed him to use mastery of the magic arts for the good of mankind, somehow, Asamad Van Ghoul had allowed himself to be corrupted—the tale continued to say that he had been persuaded to use his powers for selfish reasons by none other than Hades, and that King Solomon himself had been forced to seal him away in a truly monstrous form. Asamad's son, having managed to escape the corruption that had claimed his father, continued the family line, though the family had sought obscurity after that, fearing that acquiring great power would once again lead to a corruption. And, indeed, extended members of the family rejected the use of magic until only one line of the Van Ghouls were still practitioners of the magic arts.

Even in his youth, Vincent had been a prodigy when it came to sorcery; he had heard the whispers among his elders comparing his prowess to that of Asamad's—something that both amazed and concerned them. The realization had soon become apparent—either Vincent had to shun the talents with which he had been blessed, or embrace the power and the toll that came with it.

At the time, he was young and he was short-sighted. He knew that embracing the life of a warlock meant a conditional immortality – something mankind had been searching for since the beginning of their understanding of mortality. He accepted it, willingly; inheriting volumes of books and magical devices upon his eighteenth birthday, he sought the blessings of Pallas Athena and chose to devote his life to mastering the magic arts alongside his closest friends, Boris and Voudini. They had soon become inseparable companions, even after their studies had been completed.

Within a few years of his decision, Vincent had realized just what he had agreed to—a good portion of the supernatural world now saw him as either a tool for their own ends, or as a threat to their own quests for power. Vincent's response was to hone his craft further, his power growing exponentially as his mastery of the magic arts increased, and by the age of twenty-five, he had established himself as the most powerful warlock in the world.

The challenges to his power never stopped; even with his magic at its peak, he was challenged, and, like anyone of that age would do, he fought back.

And even more quickly, he learned that great power, unfortunately, could lead to collateral damage; while traveling with Boris and Voudini in a land in a different dimension, another wizard, boasting being the most powerful being of that dimension, had challenged him at the peak of a tall, snowy mountain. They traded spells, and Vincent had been rather amused; his opponent was more bark than bite, and had clearly underestimated him. And so, to teach him a lesson, Vincent retaliated at the full extent of his power, in an attempt to end the duel in one fell swoop.

The carelessly powerful magical attack from Vincent had not only caused his opponent to scramble out in a hasty retreat, but he watched, in stunned shock, as his magic took out a gigantic portion of the mountaintop, vaporizing a giant hole in the peak; Vincent had managed to shield himself from the rebound, and Boris and Voudini had only been spared by teleporting out of the blast radius at the last second.

Vincent had returned from that interdimensional journey wiser and humbler, and, realizing how dangerous his powers could be if carelessly used, chose a combat strategy based on teleportation and guile rather than an all-out magical offensive; he learned how to use his opponents' own powers against themselves, or otherwise just outsmarting them into a defeat, and using offensive magic only as a last resort—a decision that would, thankfully, prevent him from falling to the same fate as his ancestor, Asamad.

He, Boris, and Voudini traveled this world and others, crossing paths with other practitioners of magic—some evil, such as the imp who had literally frothed at the mouth with jealousy upon hearing of Vincent's abilities to traverse dimensions with ease, and some good, such as the Belmont line of vampire hunters from Wallachia.

As the years went on, and Boris and Voudini found destiny calling them in different directions, the three friends parted ways, yet promising to stay in touch; Vincent had sought to find out more about his ancestor, Asamad, wondering if there was anything he could possibly learn from his ancestor's story.

It was on the way that he had met Mortifer Quinch.

Mortifer had no magical powers; he was a mere illusionist whose concept of "magic" was that of parlor tricks, and upon hearing that Vincent was "the most powerful magician," he had misinterpreted the epithet completely and utterly, and had sought him out for a professional opinion.

Upon finding out that Vincent was no mere conjurer of cheap tricks, he was utterly fascinated and eager to learn more, despite Vincent's insistence that one needed magical lineage to truly master the magic arts.

Nevertheless, having traveled on his own for such a long time since parting ways with Voudini and Boris, and finding Mortifer to be one of the few non-magical people who looked at him with awe and wonder (as opposed to revulsion or fear, which were the usual reactions he received from others), he allowed Mortifer to be his traveling companion, against all better judgment.

…That was the one thing he regretted—or, at least, he regretted not insisting that Mortifer leave once the Chest of Demons first came into the picture. Vincent could never have imagined that Asamad's story was tied to the Chest—or that, in his monstrous form, he was one of the thirteen demons trapped within it.

He hadn't intended to open it, of course, but it happened by sheer accident, and the monsters had been released. Then and there, he should have insisted that Mortifer leave. But he had not, and even after all these years, he cursed his selfish sentimentality for not doing so—for the quest of recapturing the 13 ghosts had ultimately cost Mortifer his life, before Vincent could react with a possible spell to prevent it.

It had happened here in Tibet, and it was here, deep in the heart of the mountains, that Vincent chose to seclude himself, first in grief, and then to ensure that none touched the Chest of Demons ever again. The snowy mountains served as a reminder of his fateful duel from his younger years—of what happened if he used too much of his power, and the Chest served as a reminder of what happened if he didn't use enough of it.

The villagers, who had been cursed with lycanthropy by the ghosts for daring to aid Vincent and Mortifer, soon grew to resent him and his presence—but they also feared him, which prevented them from doing anything about it. And for his part, Vincent grew bitter, icing over his heart and vowing never to allow himself to be sentimental ever again.

The ultimate toll of such power, he had decided, was to be alone.

The chiming of a grandfather clock drew Vincent back to the present. He'd been reminiscing again—though that was to be expected, considering his brush with death only hours ago—cursed by Rankor after looking into the Eye of Eternity. Rankor, one of the 13 ghosts that he and Mortifer had so meticulously recaptured, had not appreciated his imprisonment and had cursed him in a quest for vengeance upon gaining his freedom—freedom he had obtained when, despite Vincent's best efforts to prevent it, the Chest had been reopened by that beatnik boy and his dog…

Vincent hadn't been sure whether the ensuing petrification that had begun working its way through his body would have truly killed him or whether he'd been still alive beneath the stone thanks to his conditional immortality—but, nevertheless, his long life had flashed before his eyes, right up until he'd escaped his fate by the skin of his teeth (almost literally so, for his face had been the last part of him still un-petrified before being saved).

And now, even with the curse broken, he wasn't entirely out of the woods just yet; he had used so much of his power trying to contain the curse and slow it down as Rankor's hatred and malice had tried to power the curse and speed it up—Vincent needed time to recover before he could use his magic again, lest his power take too much out of his energy.

And there was the risk that SAPS, the Spooks And Poltergeist Society, which Rankor had been trying to impress, would try to finish him off while he recovered from the aftermath of the curse. Vincent had risked using his energy for one more teleportation spell, temporarily retreating from his castle on the mountaintop to a cabin further down the mountain that he and Mortifer had once used as their base of operations all those years ago. It had been untouched since that day.

He sighed to himself as he rested in his old armchair by the fireside, staring wistfully at the empty one that Mortifer would have occupied; he was on the verge of getting lost in his memories again when he heard noises outside.

He froze, furiously trying to calculate his next move. Had SAPS managed to track him here? Fighting back was out of the question; did SAPS know the extent of how much recovery he needed, or would he be able to bluff them into a retreat?

He glanced towards the door; as with his castle on the mountaintop, he had placed a statue head of Pallas Athena over the door—blessed by the Goddess herself, the statue heads would glow if danger was present. He'd failed to notice the statue's glow when Rankor had possessed the deliveryman, as his guard had been down; he would not make the same mistake twice.

But, as it turned out, the statue was not glowing this time. And his concerns quickly turned to annoyance as he then heard a knock on the door.

"Mr. Van Ghoul? Are you in there?"

With a frustrated scoff, he got to his feet and made his way to the door, opening it to reveal the gaggle of youngsters - three humans and two dogs - that he had come to know very well over these past few months. They were shivering from the cold and were clearly very travel-weary, having dragged their luggage up the mountain once they could have gone no further in their van.

"What are you doing here?" Vincent inquired, a little harsher than he had intended. He then dialed back the sharpness of his voice, expressing his genuine surprise instead. "I hadn't told you where I was going."

He owed them some polite graces; they had, after all, been the ones who had saved his life that night, and not for the first time, either…

The youngest human, one who Vincent had known the longest, grinned and pulled a crystal ball from his pocket.

"We used the Old Crystal Triangulation Trick, Vince!" he chirruped, indicating the second crystal ball on the table inside. "We just wanted to see how you were doing."

"Well, I'm just fine, as you can see, Flim-Flam," Vincent bluffed. There was no need to worry them about his need for rest and recovery. "I even told you as much."

"Like, I know you did, Sir…"

Vincent's gaze fell upon the young beatnik he had been thinking about not too long ago—the one who, along with the big Great Dane beside him, had started this whole mess after they'd opened the Chest.

"…But we just thought you could use some cheering up after what happened," the young man continued, and he turned to the dog beside him. "Right, Scoob?"

"Right, Rhaggy!"

Vincent stared at Shaggy and Scooby, nonplussed.

"…'Cheering up'?" he repeated.

"Yeah, you did kinda go through a lot," the young puppy – Scooby's nephew Scrappy – added.

"…It was my idea, Mr. Van Ghoul," the lone redhead said, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry if we've put you out; we can keep going to the nearest village and stay there, if you'd like."

Vincent seriously doubted that they'd make it to the village – Scrappy looked half-asleep already, and they were all very clearly uncomfortable from the cold. As he glanced at each one, he felt his expression soften in spite of himself.

"You'll do nothing of the kind, Daphne; you can all stay the night. It'll be a bit crowded, but—"

They all suddenly sprung to life, stampeding past him to get to the welcoming warmth of indoors.

"…Don't let that stop you," Vincent finished, rolling his eyes.

"You're the soul of generosity, Vince!" Flim-Flam declared, as he managed to pull some couch cushions out of his seemingly infinite pockets.

He set the cushions in front of the fireplace and reclined on them; Scrappy settled himself down on one of the cushions, as well. Shaggy and Scooby ended up commandeering the two armchairs, and Vincent tried very hard not to react to the sight of Shaggy sitting in Mortifer's old chair; he instead turned his attention to Daphne, who was trying to figure out where to rest her weary head.

"There's a guest room past the kitchenette; you can stay there," Vincent offered.

"Oh, thanks," she said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'm really sorry again—I didn't stop to think that we might be intruding…"

"That's quite alright; I should have expected you'd all be spent after such a long quest," he assured her. "If you need me, I'll be in the master bedroom upstairs." He paused, glancing outside once more, frowning as he thought he saw something move through the window. "…Daphne, are you quite sure you weren't followed?"

Her face paled slightly.

"I didn't even think…" She began again, and trailed off, sounding horrified at the realization that she might have led something wicked right this way.

Vincent took a glance at the statue head of Pallas Athena once more; this time, a glowing aura was visible around the statue.

"I'll just take a quick look outside—I'm sure it's nothing," he bluffed. "It's probably just the Yeti wandering around; he's usually doing that at this time of night…"

"The Yeti!?" Shaggy yelped, looking up from Mortifer's chair.

"…Well, this is Tibet," Vincent reminded him, trying not to smirk as Shaggy and Scooby exchanged glances. He saw no need to inform them that the Yeti's reputation was undeserved and that the beast was quite shy and cautious.

Vincent now stepped out into the night air, sobering as he looked around. Athena's warning had been clear; there was something out here, alright—and most certainly not the Yeti.

He closed the front door of the cabin behind him in the event that, whatever it was, might go after the youngsters. Indeed, he was in no shape to fight, but he still had far better a chance than they ever would.

…So much for icing over his heart and refusing to be sentimental ever again.

Oh, it wasn't that he hadn't tried to distance himself from those kids—it had started with Flim-Flam being a royal pest and refusing to leave him alone, in spite of all the times he'd tried to turn away the young con artist.

And then when the others had arrived, and Shaggy and Scooby had opened the Chest of Demons… Oh, how he had wanted so badly to let them clean up the mess they had made themselves! Vincent had been furious—how dare they undo everything that he and Mortifer had done!? How dare they render Mortifer's sacrifice to have been utterly all for nothing in the end!?

Indeed, Vincent hadn't been very helpful in the beginning; he had rationalized it that they simply had to learn that there were consequences to their actions, as he had learned long ago—let them realize just what they had unleashed, and why the situation was so dire. And, to his surprise, they had managed to recapture Demondo without any help from him whatsoever, even though they had clearly been in some sort of jam; Vincent had realized that the two ghosts who had tricked Shaggy and Scooby into opening the Chest had been trying to impersonate Shaggy and Daphne, but had not reacted, so as to let them keep their guard down in the event that he had to make a move. As it turned out, he hadn't had to, on account of the kids' dumb luck—and that, at the time, had cemented his decision to let them handle it themselves.

And so, he had been distant again when they had sought to chase down Maldor the Malevolent; aside from giving a warning about Maldor's power and giving them the general direction of where to go on two occasions, Vincent withdrew, choosing to observe how they handled this, and to see whether the dumb luck that had helped them against Demondo would work against Maldor, as well.

…It hadn't. Scooby had only narrowly escaped a sticky end at Maldor's hands, and they had very nearly lost Daphne for good to a sleeping curse; she had been spared in the end only by a loophole that had allowed Scooby to break the curse – and all because of Vincent's cold indifference. Had he acted in a timely manner, he could have prevented it – not unlike what had happened with Mortifer.

He had been far too harsh with them, he realized; they were far too young and unprepared for this. And it was then he had found himself stepping up to be a better mentor – even if they managed to vex him on occasion by either damaging the crystal ball or losing track of their quarry – and he made sure to find ways of protecting them, whether it was helping them escape a dire situation or giving them what they needed to complete the quest.

It had been some time later, upon realizing that he had willingly joined them for a monster movie marathon (and providing the refreshments, to boot), that it had become clear that his five apprentices had somehow caused him to break his vow of never being sentimental again, and based on how pleased they had been to have him there, and how they had tried to convince him to join them on a cruise later on, it seemed that they were no longer intimidated by him, as they had been when the quest had started; even Shaggy and Scooby no longer looked at him with any fear.

And then… they had gone and saved his life. Rankor had not been the first of the 13 ghosts to want a more personal vengeance; that dubious honor had gone to Nekara. She'd had her eye on him – and his powers – since the first time he and Mortifer had crossed paths with her. Back then, Mortifer had offered to be the decoy, not having any powers for her to steal. This time, she'd had no intentions of letting him escape; even before going after him, she'd drained the powers of his old comrade, Voudini, just to spite Vincent. He would have been next, had it not been for the determination of those kids and those dogs—even Shaggy and Scooby, the self-professed "natural cowards," had refused to let Nekara have her way with him. Perhaps the fear of Nekara gaining the powers of the world's most powerful warlock had been an even more frightening prospect; Vincent certainly had to admit that they knew how to prioritize very well. And he was also grateful that they had managed to inform him about Voudini's situation in time for him to do something about it; with his warlock powers gone, so was Voudini's conditional immortality. The crew's timely warning had allowed Vincent to transfer some of his power to his old friend in time—unfortunately not enough to fully restore Voudini's magic, alas, but it was enough to keep him alive, and after having failed to do that for Mortifer, saving Voudini, at least, was a small mercy.

And then, just like that, they had gone and saved him again tonight after Rankor had cursed him; with their inexperience, Vincent hadn't known if they'd truly be able to find a cure for him in time, but, lo and behold, they'd done it.

Protecting them now in return was the very least he could do.

Whatever presence he and Pallas Athena had sensed still hadn't shown itself, and he was through playing around; he would have to intimidate his opponent and bluff them into believing he was at full strength.

"I know you're there," he hissed, raising a hand, as though preparing to cast a spell. "You have five seconds before I—"

"Wait! Wait! Hold your fire!"

Vincent's scowl deepened as the two ghosts, Bogel and Weerd – the same ones who had tricked Shaggy and Scooby into opening the Chest – materialized in front of him.

"So, uh, you're looking good with the old curse being broken and all that…" Weerd said. "You're probably mad at us—"

"You dare to show your faces to me!?"

"Yup, he's mad alright," Bogel said, hiding behind Weerd.

"Mad? Why would I be mad, just because you tried to leave me petrified!?" Vincent retorted.

"It wasn't personal!" Weerd promised. "At first, we were just going to take the Chest and let those kids save you, but then we realized they'd just take the Chest back – but if you were out of the picture, maybe they'd just give up, and then SAPS would let us in!"

"Weerd, I do not think you're helping our case at all," Bogel cringed, as Vincent looked even more furious. "Please, oh exalted and most powerful sorcerer, have mercy on us and help us, as we almost helped you!"

"The members of SAPS are mad at us, too – they blame us for breaking the curse on you," Weerd added. "We need your help to duck 'em."

Vincent glared at them in disbelief.

"How much gall do you have?" he queried.

"A lot, actually," Weerd replied.

"…It was a rhetorical question…" Vincent muttered. "And I suppose SAPS has been chasing you, and you've led them right here?"

"We thought we might've given 'em the slip, so we followed those kids, hoping they'd lead us to you," Bogel admitted. "But SAPS might track us down—that's why we need your help!"

"So, how about it?" Weerd asked. "We haven't got much time, here!"

As if in response, Vincent's hand now glowed with a bright light, which he quickly hurled at his feet. The light, hitting the ground, now rapidly expanded into a large dome of light – a protection spell – that now covered the entire cabin and the surrounding area.

It worked instantaneously; the moment the light expanded, touching Bogel and Weerd, they were immediately repelled by the magical shield, which sent them hurtling into the air and away from the cabin.

"You coulda just said 'no'!" Bogel howled, as he and Weerd flew out of sight.

Vincent managed to stay on his feet until they were gone, but then dropped to his knees in the snow, clutching at his now-dizzy head. It should have been a simple protection spell, but with his great power, even a "simple" spell was anything but; he had overdone it, pushing himself too far too soon, but he'd had no other choice – SAPS would have very likely tracked those two idiot ghosts here, and a protection spell would be necessary for the sake of the others. It would be worth it in the long run, even if it meant that he would need more time to recover now…

"Mr. Van Ghoul!? Oh, Jeepers…!"

"Zoinks! What happened!? Are you alright!?"

All five of them were surrounding him now, stunned and worried; Flim-Flam was so concerned, he'd blurted out something in Lhasa Tibetan instead of English, and Scooby just whined in worry.

"Mr. Van Ghoul?" Scrappy asked, sounding so forlorn and unlike his usually spunky self. "Can… Can you hear us?"

"Yes…" he managed to reply. "Don't concern yourselves; I'll be fine…"

They certainly weren't buying it this time.

"Help me get him inside!" Daphne instructed the others.

Before he'd had the chance to protest, Vincent found himself seized by three pairs of hands and two pairs of paws; by all rights, he should've felt embarrassed, except that he was too exhausted to feel embarrassed. He allowed them to help him to his armchair, and he glanced at them, still light-headed.

"We saw the light just now, through the window," Flim-Flam said, sheepishly, speaking in English again. "I recognized it as one of your protection spells."

"It was those two ghosts," Vincent explain, shutting his eyes to stave off the vertigo. "They dared to ask me for help to protect them against SAPS. I had to cast the spell in case SAPS had followed them."

"Rou did rhat for us?" Scooby asked.

"And pushed yourself too far, too," Scrappy realized. "That curse had taken a lot out of you, hadn't it?"

Vincent growled in quiet frustration, which was enough of an admittance, as far as they were concerned.

"But, like, why did you tell us you were 'just fine' after the curse broke, when you really weren't!?" Shaggy asked.

"Because I will be just fine once I've rested enough," Vincent insisted. "Why quibble about a matter of time?"

Daphne, who had been very quiet since helping him inside, now broke the silence before anyone could counter Vincent's argument.

"Shaggy, can you make some tea for Mr. Van Ghoul?"

"All we have left is that matcha stuff," Shaggy protested. "Uh… Mr. Van Ghoul? You don't mind matcha, do you?"

"I have no strong emotions for or against it," Vincent deadpanned.

"Matcha it is," Daphne said. "And don't drink it all yourself, either, Shaggy! I'll go see if anything in our snack provisions survived the last raid you and Scooby went on…"

Shaggy gave her an indignant look before heading to the kitchenette to prepare the tea, and Daphne moved to search the luggage.

"…Hey, Vince?" Flim-Flam asked, sounding rather quiet. "Is there anything else we can get you?"

"Just let me rest…" he returned, wincing as the vertigo seemed to increase. "I'm sure that if I just have a chance to recover, I… I will be fine…"

His dizziness wasn't quite going away; he needed some deep sleep, and he needed it now—and it looked as though his weary self was going to get it right then and there, whether he liked it or not.

As he slipped into his slumber, he was vaguely aware of Scooby whimpering in worry and concern.

He wasn't sure for how long he'd been asleep, but as he returned to awareness some time later, Vincent found that, at last, the vertigo had subsided – a welcome sign, indeed, that rest was all that he needed after all.

He kept his eyes shut, anyway, quietly taking in the activity around him, which wasn't much. It was all very quiet; someone – Daphne, he presumed, based on the sound of her boots – was pacing quietly back and forth as the others sat around, taking turns sighing.

"…He hasn't moved a muscle," he heard Scrappy say, after some time. "Has he ever been like this before?"

"No," Flim-Flam replied, his voice devoid of his usual cheerful snark. "It's a little scary to see. I always thought that nothing could hurt old Vince. Even when he was turning to stone, I kept trying to tell myself that, even if we ran out of time, he'd still find a way out of it like he always did – he'd just be annoyed at us, that's all. …But I was wrong, wasn't I? If Scooby hadn't gotten the crystal ball away from those ghosts in time…"

"Stop!" Scrappy pleaded.

"I'm gonna stop you right there, too, Flim-Flam, because I don't even wanna think about it," Shaggy insisted.

"Me either," Scooby whimpered.

"Shaggy's right," Daphne said, walking back over to them now. "Thinking about what could've happened isn't what we need; we just need to be grateful that we made it in time, in the end."

"Yeah, I'm sorry I even brought it up," Flim-Flam sighed.

There was another lapse of silence until Daphne spoke again.

"It's the middle of the afternoon over in the States," she said. "And it's been a while since we've spoken to Fred and Velma – why don't I call them?"

Shaggy, Scooby, and Scrappy seemed to perk up at this; Flim-Flam didn't really react, not having known Fred and Velma, anyway.

"But remember what we agreed on when this whole thing started," Daphne warned. "Not a word to Fred and Velma about the Chest or the 13 ghosts; we don't want to worry them."

"Right," Scooby promised.

The four went to the kitchenette to make the call while Flim-Flam stayed in front of the fire, sighing quietly to himself. Vincent rested a bit more, vaguely paying attention to the conversation as he tried to fall back asleep.

"Like, we really miss you two," Shaggy was saying.

"Well, we really miss you," Fred returned. "You know, we should all catch up for one of our beachside picnics sometime, just like we used to do back in high school."

"Rith a barbeque?" Scooby asked, perking up.

"Well, of course," Velma said. "It wouldn't be one of our picnics without you trying to get all the food!"

Now it was Scooby's turn to react with indignation.

"We were planning to visit my grandma and grandpa in Dooville really soon," Scrappy said. "Maybe we can catch up after we see them?"

"Rheah! Good idea!" Scooby grinned.

"Sounds like a plan, then," Fred agreed. "Daphne? Shaggy? What do you think?"

"Like, anything will be better than Tibet!"

"Shaggy!" Daphne hissed.

"Tibet!? Jinkies!" Velma exclaimed, not having expected that answer. "What are you doing all the way in Tibet!? I thought you said that you guys were going to be relaxing in California!"

"Well, like, that was the original plan," Shaggy stammered. "But, uh… something came up."

Vincent hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but he knew he was responsible for that one; when it had become clear that he couldn't break the curse on his own, he'd reached out to the crew for help, and without complaining, they'd halted their vacation plans to do what they could.

"I thought there was a lead for a scoop about the Yeti," Daphne bluffed. "I just had to check it out, but it looks like it's a dead end."

"That's too bad," Fred replied, sounding sympathetic. "If it's a dead end, I guess there isn't really anything we could do to help."

"It's just as well," Velma said. "I've gotten used to the warm weather at Cape Canaveral, anyway…"

"But if you find any good legends and lore on Tibet, send them my way!" Fred added. "I bet I could make a good book out of those!"

"I'm sure you could, Fred," Daphne said, managing a smile. "I'll send you anything interesting that I can find."

They continued talking for some more time until, one by one, they started getting sleepy themselves; Scrappy had nodded off, and Scooby wished Fred and Velma goodnight before bringing Scrappy to the couch cushion he'd been resting on before and tucked him in with a quilt from their luggage.

Scooby was now giggling to himself, and Vincent opened his eyes to see Scooby abscond with the quilt Shaggy had been using, and then commandeer Mortifer's chair for himself now while Shaggy was busy with the phone call. Scooby now looked over at Vincent, grinning sheepishly as he saw that Vincent was watching him.

"Rhoodnight," he said, and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he opened them again, realizing what he'd seen. "Rou're awake!"

Flim-Flam bolted awake.

"He's what? …Vince!"

That awoke Scrappy, and brought Shaggy and Daphne over from the kitchenette.

"Shaggy, the tea!" Daphne reminded him.

"Huh? Oh, right! Hey, Fred, Velma – like, I'll talk to you guys later! Bye!"

Shaggy quickly got the teakettle from atop the woodstove and placed it on a serving tray with cream, sugar, and the snacks that Daphne had managed to salvage – mainly small-sized packets of chips and pretzels, and a few candy bars – and he placed the tray on the small table beside Vincent's chair.

"There you are, Mr. V," he said. "It's not much, but hopefully, it'll help…"

"Rhaggy…!"

"Huh? Oh yeah…" Shaggy added a half-empty box of Scooby Snacks to the tray. "…Scoob insisted that you can have the rest of the Scooby Snacks – if you want them, of course."

Vincent managed a smile in spite of himself; he knew those were precious to the Great Dane, and yet, he was willing to give them all to him.

"I feel as though my palate isn't suited for them, but I appreciate the gesture," he said, pouring himself a cup of the matcha tea. There wasn't much to the tea, but after everything he'd been through, it was practically rejuvenating.

He was vaguely aware of Daphne still in the kitchenette, trying to explain the bustle of activity that Fred and Velma undoubtedly heard. Her voice seemed extremely strained, but before he could inquire about it, the others were soon crowding around him again—

"Gosh, Mr. Van Ghoul; I'm just glad you're feeling better," Scrappy sighed.

"Same here, Vince," Flim-Flam agreed.

"Yeah, but you should, like, take it easy for a while," Shaggy instructed, handing him another quilt from their luggage. "We can stay were for a while, if you want…"

"Rheah! We can relp!" Scooby agreed.

"Once again, I appreciate the sentiment," Vincent replied. "But I'm sure you're all eager to get out of Tibet and return to the vacation that I interrupted."

An awkward silence followed, prompting Vincent to look up from his tea and give them all a questioning look.

"Well…?" he prompted.

"…Never mind, Vince," Flim-Flam said, quietly. "You should probably get more rest, anyway - and I think the rest of us need it, too."

He and Scrappy said their goodnights and returned to the pile of couch cushions in front of the fire, quickly falling back asleep; Scooby, also, wished him goodnight once more and wrapped himself up in Shaggy's quilt while taking up all the space in Mortifer's chair.

"Scoob… Scoob, come on – like, where am I supposed to sleep?" Shaggy queried. "Scooby…!"

But Scooby was already asleep – or doing a good job of pretending he was. And if there was one thing Shaggy was good at, it was knowing when to pick his battles. Naturally, he picked very few of them, and this was no exception. He admitted defeat, borrowing one of the couch cushions that Flim-Flam and Scrappy weren't using, and was about to curl up some distance from the fire, shivering from the lack of a quilt…

"Shaggy," Vincent said, sighing quietly. "You can use the master bedroom upstairs."

"Really?" Shaggy asked, looking up at him in surprise. "You mean, like… use your room?"

"Yes; I'm quite comfortable here; you might as well use it."

"Hey, thanks!" Shaggy said. He got up, headed for the staircase, and then paused. "Uh… there isn't anything creepy up there that I should be warned about, right?"

"No, not at all," Vincent intoned. "If you see the scorpion, just shoo him away and tell him to come back later; he's harmless."

"Oh, sure – the what!?" Shaggy yelped. "…You're just kidding, right? …Right…?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Vincent returned, punctuating his statement with a dark chuckle.

Shaggy gulped, and slowly headed upstairs; he must have been too exhausted to check every nook and cranny for scorpions, as he was soon snoring away.

Vincent finished his cup of tea and, deciding he had recovered enough strength to do so, slowly stood up to take the teakettle back to the woodstove to keep the rest of the tea warm. Daphne was still in the kitchenette, talking to Fred and Velma.

"It must be pretty late over there, Daphne," Velma was saying. "We'd better let you go."

"Well, if you're sure," Daphne replied, her voice still strained. "Goodnight, you two… Well, good afternoon, I guess…"

"Daphne…" Fred said, quietly. "Are you sure everything's alright?"

"Sure, I'm sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"…You sound stressed."

"I didn't want to say anything, but I noticed it, too," Velma added.

"Well, we did just hike halfway up a mountain…" Daphne pointed out. "With our luggage, too."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" Velma asked.

"Daph, if you guys are in some kind of trouble, we'd want to help," Fred insisted. "Just say the word, and we'll drop everything and be right over."

"Even in the mountain cold," Velma agreed.

Vincent could see Daphne blinking back tears as she spoke again—

"We're not in any trouble," she lied. "We're just tired from traveling. I'm sure we'll be chipper again after we visit Scooby's parents."

Vincent looked on in amazement. Daphne had been able to do what he had not had the willpower to do all those years ago when Mortifer had insisted on helping – keeping inexperienced and ill-equipped friends away from the dangers of the Chest and the 13 ghosts. Though it clearly pained Daphne to lie to Fred and Velma and to push them away, her lie and her actions would ensure their survival. Perhaps, if Vincent had only managed to do the same, Mortifer would've still been alive…

"Well, if you're sure," Velma sighed.

"Take care, and remember – we're here for you if you need us," Fred added.

Daphne thanked them, and the three of them said their goodbyes. Daphne ended the call, and she didn't move; she stood where she was, her back still to Vincent, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.

"…Daphne?"

To Vincent's surprise, she immediately pulled an about-face to glare at him, ignoring the tears that had finally escaped her eyes. Gone was the apologetic girl who had been upset to think they had intruded on him.

"You shouldn't be up! Get back to your chair!" she ordered.

Despite the tears, she was doing her best to be formidable; anyone else would've been intimidated – but Vincent was not anyone else.

"Don't you take that tone with me!"

"Or what? You'll turn me into a frog?" she challenged.

"…Don't think I couldn't," he boasted.

"Oh, I'll bet you could – but not in your current state," she pointed out. "Not without draining yourself again; you're still not fully recovered!"

"…Touché," Vincent growled. He had to admit, he was impressed by her nerve, even if he didn't like it; though temporarily weakened now, he would be perfectly capable of doing anything once his energy recovered, and yet, she was more than willing to give the most powerful warlock in the world a piece of her mind.

He turned to walk back to the armchair, but—

"…Wait…"

He glanced over his shoulder to see her bury her face in her hand for a moment before looking back up.

"I'm sorry," she said, sincerely. "I shouldn't have snapped at you, Mr. Van Ghoul. I… I don't know why I did that."

"Your friends are right about you – you are stressed," Vincent observed. "But not without good reason."

She gave a hollow nod.

"I hate having to lie to Fred and Velma – but I hate that they can't be here," she said, furiously trying to dry her tears. "I hate that there are demon ghosts out there causing all this trouble. I hate everything about this!"

"I understand," Vincent said, turning back to her. "And I imagine I haven't made things any easier."

"Oh…! No!" Daphne looked mortified at the unintended implications of her frustrated rant. "I didn't mean you! The only good thing that's come out of this is meeting you and Flim-Flam; I don't regret that at all!"

"Even if I have the power to turn you into a frog?" Vincent intoned.

"Well, I know you'd never really do that."

"True. How about a harpy instead?"

Daphne gave him a startled look before she saw his amused smirk and realized he was kidding again; she managed a laugh, and soon found herself laughing and crying at the same time.

"…You really did need that vacation," Vincent realized. "I'm sorry you all had to forget it for my sake."

"You needed help; we weren't going to abandon you," she returned. "That's not how we roll – and that's why I can never tell Fred and Velma what's really going on. They'd be here on the next flight over." She sighed. "We all went to school together – Fred, Velma, Shaggy, and me, and Scooby's been with Shaggy ever since I can remember; it's like we were a second family. When we were in high school, we'd spend our weekends solving mysteries that happened to pop up in nearby towns – usually monsters and ghosts of some kind, but they were always just people in masks, nothing like this… Then we graduated and got to travel around more and find more mysteries to solve; even after Scrappy started traveling with us, we still did the same thing."

"And what changed?"

"Life got in the way," Daphne sighed. "Velma got accepted to an internship at NASA, and that led to her getting hired. We encouraged her to follow it; it was what she'd been dreaming of. And after Velma left, it just wasn't the same, so we split up. Fred became a freelance writer, and I became a reporter; Shaggy did odd jobs here and there until he decided to catch up with me and see if he could help me with my articles, and, of course, Scooby and Scrappy came with him. Fred and Velma would join us whenever they could get time off; it was always wonderful when they could, since it felt just like old times. But then, Shaggy and Scooby opened the Chest, and we quickly realized that this was something we couldn't let Fred and Velma know about, because they'd try to help and would get hurt by the ghosts… But they're my best friends just like the others, and I have to lie to them like this. If they ever find out…!" She trailed off, too upset to continue.

"Daphne, believe me, you have made a difficult – but very wise – decision. The tears you shed and the pain you feel right now are worth avoiding even greater pain and tears if something were to happen to them," Vincent assured her.

Daphne blinked, looking back at him, and something in her expression told Vincent that she had realized that he had been speaking from experience. Her gaze flickered to the fireside briefly, and the realization dawned on her face that there were two armchairs. She didn't press the matter, and he wasn't about to volunteer any details, either.

"You know, you really should be resting some more," she said, after the awkward pause had passed.

"Very well, Dr. Blake," Vincent snarked. "But let me offer my thanks once more—not just for tonight, but also for that night when Nekara came after me. You all showed great judgment and ingenuity, and I suspect that you were at the helm that night, just as you were tonight."

"It was a team effort," she insisted, humbly. "Both times."

"Nevertheless, I'm glad that you all saw the gravity of the situation. If Nekara had succeeded in stealing my power, she would have been unstoppable. And if Rankor had succeeded in petrifying me, the remaining ghosts and other evil forces would be carrying on, unchecked."

Daphne blinked, slightly confused.

"…I'm sorry—what?" she asked.

"You mean that wasn't your priority on both of those occasions?" Vincent asked, arching an eyebrow. "I had assumed, given your great zeal, that you would have recognized the threat to the world and to your quest."

"Well, I guess it did cross our minds, but that wasn't why we were so desperate to stop Nekara and Rankor…" Daphne trailed off, giving him an incredulous look. "We were just so worried about you."

"Ah, yes, of course," Vincent realized. "You didn't want to lose your strongest ally."

"No…" Daphne said, now even more incredulous. "I mean, you are our strongest ally, but this was about you, not us."

"…What?"

"Nekara still kissed you, Vincent!" She'd slipped and addressed him by his first name—ordinarily, she didn't, as a mark of respect; he didn't bother to point this out, given his confusion and her distress. "The only thing that saved you was because she did it five seconds after midnight, and her draining kiss was no longer effective! And tonight, we only got the crystal ball free from those ghosts because Scooby was able to take them by surprise while they were fighting among themselves—and we were nearly out of time there, too! A difference of five seconds either time, and we would've lost you!" She sighed, trying to compose herself. "Why do you think we came here tonight? We were all so shaken; Scrappy told me he'd had a nightmare that we were too late and you were just a statue, but he didn't want any of the others to know. That was why I had the idea for us to come here, so that we could make sure you were alright."

Vincent recalled how, earlier, Scrappy had been the first one to react when Flim-Flam had been thinking about what could have gone wrong. It had been quite unlike the puppy's usual attitude; he should've sensed it then.

But, more than that, he wasn't sure what to think about this new revelation—and Daphne was expecting some sort of response to it. And after having lived a life of solitude for so long since losing Mortifer, he wasn't sure just how to respond. Breaking his vow to stay aloof and ending up caring for those kids and those dogs was on him. But given his (deliberately) imposing nature, to say nothing of his vast powers (of which they only knew a mere fraction of), he hadn't even given a thought to the possibility that they would get sentimental over him.

"I am grateful for your concern," he said, at last. "But this is not a quest where sentiment is advised—"

"Sure, and you draining yourself to the point of collapse for that protection spell had nothing at all to do with getting sentimental over us?"

Vincent frowned; she'd seen through his bluff once again.

"And I won't even get into the other times you've bailed us out of trouble," Daphne continued. "Or even just calling on the crystal ball to tell us to be careful—"

"You fail to understand how impractical sentiment is in this case," Vincent interrupted, attempting to salvage some control of this conversation. "It is my duty as the world's most powerful warlock to see to it that the only ones capable of recapturing the 13 ghosts are kept safe. Nothing more, and nothing less."

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied. "Maybe you'll actually believe it. But I sure don't—not after you joined us for movie night or how you were ready to accept our invitation to—"

"What you lack in magic, you make up for with sheer stubbornness!" Vincent quipped, fighting the urge to facepalm. "But you fail to truly grasp what I am, and the significance of it! There are other evil forces out in the different realms, not just the 13 ghosts! Even when this quest is done and the Chest is resealed, there will still be danger, and as the most powerful sorcerer in the world, my presence will deter them!"

"…Is that the best you've got?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, for pity's sake; what do you want from me!?"

"For you to understand that you're not alone anymore," she answered. "Look, I don't know what happened before we met you—and you don't have to tell me, either. But we're here now. And I told you, the others are like a second family to me. You're a part of that, too—don't you see that?"

Vincent didn't reply to that; he could only think of what had transpired that night—how they'd dropped everything to try to find a way to break the curse, how they had trudged halfway up the mountain to check on him, how they had looked after him when he'd drained himself, how they'd put together tea and snacks just for him…

"So, you see, we are going to be sentimental because we just can't help it," Daphne continued. "And the only way to get us to stop is to use some sort of amnesia spell on us so we forget how much we care about you. And if that's what you really want, then, by all means, go ahead, once you've recovered enough." Her voice cracked slightly at the thought of it, but she continued, looking at the floor now. "But I don't think you would actually do that, any more than you'd turn us into frogs or harpies or whatever. Am I right, or am I wrong?"

Vincent was silent for some time, and when he spoke, he appeared to be ducking the question completely—

"If you'll excuse me, as you so aptly put it, I am in need of more rest, and I think I should go get it," he said. "And you, Young Lady, are still in dire need of a de-stressing vacation, as I'm sure the others are, as well. You will all leave Tibet tomorrow morning." He paused, and then managed a smirk. "…I've always wanted to visit California."

Daphne's head snapped up as the significance of his words sunk in.

"You mean, you're coming with us…?" She trailed off, and then broke into a triumphant grin as she realized his answer.

She quickly gave him a joyous hug before taking a step back, realizing that she may have overstepped with that, but Vincent didn't seem bothered by it.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"For what?"

"For accepting us."

"Well, I could say the same," Vincent returned. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to get some rest before morning."

"Oh, yes; goodnight!"

She retreated to the guest room, looking as though at least one of her weights had been lifted from her shoulders.

Vincent now returned to his armchair after taking one more glance at the statue of Pallas Athena to ensure it was still safe outside (it was), and began thinking about what had just transpired. He wasn't exactly sure as to just what point he had ended up adopting three youngsters and two dogs (or had they adopted him? Or perhaps both had occurred?), but, nevertheless, here they were. And as for Vincent, well… he would just have to accept his fate.

Really, though… it wasn't a bad fate to accept.