The sun had barely risen above the skyline when the big black tour van rolled into the quiet neighborhood of Gabriel’s childhood home. It was still. Peaceful. Nothing like the chaos of the past two days.

The van was packed. Gear stowed. Coffee in every cupholder. The band was inside—buzzing gently with excitement and exhaustion.

Gabriel stepped out alone at first, just needing a few seconds to soak in the street he once walked daily. The cracked sidewalk. The tree he used to climb. The front porch where he first tuned his secondhand bass.

Thane came out after him, quiet and steady, joining Gabriel by the open back doors.

A moment later, Gabriel’s family stepped out from the house. His dad gave him a long look, then walked over, arms open.

They hugged tight. No words at first. Just the kind of silence that meant something.

“I’m proud of you,” his dad finally said, voice low, right next to Gabriel’s ear. “I was proud before the music. Now? I’m in awe.”

Gabriel swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“You were always that person,” his dad said. “I just made sure you had strings and power cables.”

They both laughed softly, and Gabriel handed him a signed setlist from the show, folded and laminated.

Gabriel said. “I thought you deserved one of mine.”

His dad nodded, eyes misty. “This one’s going in a frame.”

Gabriel turned next to his grandparents, who each took his clawed hand in theirs like nothing in the world was strange about it.

“You’re a very good boy,” his grandmother said. “And a fine musician. Your grandfather cried during that solo. He won’t admit it, but I saw it.”

Gabriel grinned. “Thank you. For coming. Really.”

They kissed his cheeks and shuffled off toward the porch, warm smiles still lighting their faces.

Last came his mother and Nathan.

They stood a bit apart from the others. Gabriel nodded politely. No more. No less.

Thane stood behind him, arms crossed.

His mother opened her mouth like she might say something, but Thane’s eyes locked onto hers with a gaze so icy it could’ve frozen asphalt. He didn’t growl. Didn’t move. Just… watched.

She closed her mouth.

Nathan made eye contact for half a second.

Thane didn’t blink.

Nathan looked at the ground.

Gabriel didn’t speak to them. Didn’t need to. He just turned and climbed back into the van.

Thane followed and slid the side door shut behind him with a quiet click that felt like a period at the end of a sentence.

As the van pulled away, Gabriel looked back once—just once—then turned toward the front, resting his head on Thane’s shoulder.

“Well,” he said with a quiet smile. “Let’s go be legends again.”

Thane nuzzled the top of his head and whispered, “Already are.”

And with that… the van rolled west.

The road was calling.