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All he'd had to do was blink, and he was home again, back alone in his temple, the Wastelands left behind. In his head was knowledge, so much knowledge, more than he ever thought was possible for one to know. Within his body and infused with his essence was power, enough to do anything he wished, combined with the knowledge he had gained. He felt unstoppable and capable of anything.

Anything.

And there was only one thing he wanted to do at that moment.

In the middle of his throne room he stood, the Spear of Destiny summoned to his gloved hand (the glove was just a precautionary measure). Every door at every entrance slammed shut at the same time, with enough force to shake the temple walls, locked, unable to be opened by any outside force.

There was no thought, no time to waste because he had already wasted so much already. He held the Spear aloft, poured into it his newfound power, and did exactly what Cernunnos had told him he needed to do. He felt the Spear awaken, responding to the power that flowed through it, enhancing it. He focused on what he wanted to do, on what he wanted to create and he manifested it.

The bridge. The entryway to the other plane.

It didn't appear at first, and he pushed more power into it, more determination. He was desperate for this to work. He needed this to work. He thought of Dracian, of his love for him, and how much he just wanted him back, to hold him again, to feel loved by him again in return.

The power surged, that of creation amplified by the Spear, and at first what he wanted to manifest appeared, flickering, faint, and finally, with a resounding shockwave that spread out from the temple, that bowed trees and threatened to level buildings, it stood.

The bridge. Or rather, a doorway.

He was in front of it in one blink, the handle turned and the door thrust open in the next.

Dracian! His voice called out, spread across this plane, searching for him, the moment he stepped through.

There was darkness here, pressing in around him, so black as to nearly hide the world that he had stepped into. But darkness was part of his domain, an old, familiarity, and the God had no trouble seeing through it just fine, his eyes glittering in what little light managed to shine through from the moon high above.

He had to hope that the doorway brought him to this specific location for a reason and that what he sought was nearby. He turned, looking around, and saw the opening. In an instant, he stood at its edge, another and he found himself on top of the hill, looking down at a valley of white flowers, a caravan of wagons, and sounds that were all too familiar Grendel's ears.

He knew, at that moment, that he had found the right place.

One more blink and he stood at the edge of the ring of wagons, hidden within shadows that obscured him from view. His eyes raced over figures that bustled around, those that sat or stood around the bonfire, those who entertained children.

Where was he...?

And then there it was. The smell of cloves drew a sharp ache from Grendel's chest in its familiarity.

He followed it back to its source, an urgency thrumming through his veins, his sudden need almost dizzying. Soon he could see the pile of rocks, the nearly imperceptible glow of a lit cigar, and his steps slowed, thoughts suddenly crowding his head, thoughts that he'd never courted until this very moment, thoughts that he hated.

What if he found a Dracian that not only did not know him but was happy here? Happier than he had been before? Could he really make him leave?

He shivered in the cool night air, gaze staring towards the pile of rocks, and he made himself continue on, though his steps were no longer so quick as before.

"Dracian?" He called out as he neared, this time out loud, voice low, with a hint of his own uncertainty.

It was probably not natural for a God to feel nervous, and yet he did. When the figure jumped down, he knew he could see him so clearly if he chose to, and yet he waited, either too concerned or too scared of what he might find. It had been weeks. Weeks that could have been days had he known...

The figure approached him, closer, closer still, and Grendels attention was held rapt by the movement, by the sound of jingling metal, by the face that appeared.

There was a rough hitch in his chest when he saw him. It was unmistakeably Dracian and yet he was...different. Different enough that there was a pounding in Grendel's ears and suddenly, emotions welled up inside of him that he could hardly bare to stand, guilt amongst them, mixed with that same uncertainty as before. He could barely hear a word that passed through the man's lips, though he did hear them, it just took him a moment to process it.

'After all this time you finally came...'

The God's mouth felt dry, and there was a lump in his throat that he tried to swallow down before speaking, moving forward as he did so, a hand up, reaching toward him, moonlight reflecting off of the gold ring adorning one finger before he pulled the hand back as if realizing this wasn't quite his Dracian. He couldn't just pretend as if it were.

"You know me?" His voice was deeper than it used to be, reverberating with the new power he recently come into. He tilted his head slightly, some loose hair falling in front of one eye. "...How long have you been waiting?"

He was almost sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"Years," Grendel repeated, eyes suddenly sad. "I would have never...I would have come sooner." He said, earnestly, wanting Dracian to believe it.

It had only been weeks for the God, and that had been torment enough. But years and with almost no memories of where he had been thrust from.

Grendel swallowed again, that damn lump in his throat wouldn't go away. He had caught sight of the ring on Ravnos's finger and recognized it as the one he had given him.

"I made a terrible mistake, Dracian. I let my anger get the best of me and I was tricked, by someone far more powerful than I. I am so sorry." It was the apology he'd been repeating to an empty space in his life since the moment it had happened.

"This was never meant to happen. I changed your destiny, but I can still bring you back. I need you to come back with me. Please."

For all his new power and the deep well of knowledge that Lilith and the entities had decided to bestow upon him, Grendel was still young, and still, perhaps, felt his emotions too keenly. Here he was, practically begging a mortal to come home with him, instead of just....well, using his power and forcing him to. And he was prepared to do so much more to convince him, to plea with him, to show him, somehow, just how sorry he was, to restore his memories, all of them, right then and there.

But it wasn't even necessary. Words cut off in his throat at the feel of Dracian's hand against his face. He leaned into it, that familiar touch, and moved forward, just enough to bridge what little distance there was left between them. He breathed him in, his scent, remembering all too well how he tasted on his lips and on his tongue.

The kiss on his forehead warmed him and lifted him. It was forgiveness, which he did not feel he deserved, but he was being granted nonetheless.

Dracian never ceased to amaze him.

A moment later he was following the other man's gaze to the caravan in the distance. He thought this must be hard for him, to have lived a life here amongst his people, the life that he would have likely had if Caine had not found him. There was a second where Grendel wondered what the other would choose and if the God would need to try and be more convincing, but in the end, that would not be necessary either.

It was Grendel's turn to lift a hand towards the other man, though it slipped around the back of his neck as he leaned in closer, lips just a hairsbreadth away. "Good. Together then." He murmured, before pressing his lips against Dracian's, a distraction while he teleported them both so that they would be standing outside of the open door, the one that would deliver them back home.

Oh, how badly Grendel had missed this. The kiss was almost like the very first one they had shared, full of a repressed longing and desperate need, and the God did not want to stop, except that he knew they were on a bit of a tight schedule, and needed to be back through the door before the bridge between the planes could close. Still, he would have lingered if Dracian hadn't broken the kiss first, and he chuckled deeply at the other's words.

"Yes." He agreed, because what else could he say? Dracian had just described exactly what the God had been planning.

He pulled his forehead away and slipped his hand back from around Dracian's neck. He reached instead for his hand, threading fingers through his to pull him towards the door and back through. Back to the God's temple. Back home.

It was time for Ravnos, and his missing bloodline, to return.

One more step.

It had become his mantra. These past few days, he had used it to remind himself that there would be, eventually, an end to all of this. He used it to keep moving forward, to keep progressing.

Don't stop.

He pulled on Dracian's hand and walked backward so he could watch him as he attempted to bring him from one plane of existence and into the next. He urged him along until the other stopped, unable to go further. It was here, then. This was the spot. Grendel waited, and reached a free hand to Dracian's face as he flickered between forms.

"It is okay." He said, as calmly as he could while watching the person he loved experience pain that the God wished he didn't need to, as his body faded and left only his essence behind.

This was fine. He had known that this would happen. Knowledge was a wonderful thing to finally have.

One more step.

Grendel gazed at that sparkling gold cloud and smiled. It was beautiful. He knew it would be. Now, to resolve this problem, so they both could go home. He kneeled down, near where Dracian's essence hovered, and he reached toward it with one hand, raw power tingling in his fingertips. As before, when creating the door, he used the power of creation, focusing on what it was that he wanted to make, and then drew upon the knowledge he had just been granted not even an hour before.

The Disciplines.

He thought about a Dracian who was also Ravnos. A man who could still remember both lives he had lived, if he wanted to. For his form, it was easy enough to think of how he had just been, just now, before he had disappeared, the freshest memory of the man that he'd had in his mind. The God concentrated and slowly drew together just what he wanted, with one important distinction, the last piece sliding into place.

Grendel's connection to Caine had been severed, and so too should Ravnos's. He would no longer be a Disciple of Caine, but reborn, as the first Disciple of Grendel.

It was, he hoped, finally, the last step.

Grendel was still kneeling on the floor, and when his creation of Ravnos was completed, he let his hand fall, his gaze flicking to the ring that had fallen on the floor before he leaned over to retrieve it, and then held it up, offering it with a smile and eyes the glimmered with happiness.

"I had to remake you." He said as if that were something simple to do. "And now that you are whole again, so am I." He stood, and linked fingers with the other once more, warmth flooding through him, spreading through that touch to warm Ravnos as well and to ease that worry he saw in suddenly furrowed brows as the Disciple looked back at a world collapsing, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble faintly as well.

"We need to go." He urged, "Now." The final word was said with urgency, and he pulled on the vampire's hand.

If it came down to it he would teleport them both through. He had not come this far only to fail at the last second.