The end. 

Come on in, Miss Crane. 

Anu Syed: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

The way I see it ending is as Norman who hasn't fully accepted Norma's death is running the hotel with the two sides of him which is himself and Norma. Dylan comes to White Pine Bay to ask Norman to come live with him but Norman refuses his brothers request. Norman who hears his mother's voice in his head telling him what to do keeps Norman in check that is when Norman begins to realize some things don't make sense and start to realize Norma is dead. He sees as a way to keep Norma alive he keeps her body with home and act like she's alive knowing she's dead we see that Norman became the psycho we all know him to be. Romero who wants justice for Norma knows that Norman is the one who killed her and will do anything to get him in jail he will do stuff his own way and he'll never give up because his love for Norma was real and beautiful. There will be a showdown between  Norman and Romero the fight to the death and I'm guessing the hatred between the two of them if will be a great fight. Rihanna who plays someone important the first true victim of the real psycho Norman Bates where that famous shower scene from the original where Norman sneaks up on the girl and stab her will take place in that scene. I don't know how the story will continue after that but it always continues I'll just have to wait and find out. This season of Bates Motel will be epic and I'm so excited to see it.

Ashley Oliveira: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

I think the show will end like "Psycho" did with Norman completely dominated by the mother personality as he smiles into the camera and it fades to black. But leading up to this, I think Norman will have gotten used to embracing the mother side of him more, so much so he has started to dress like her every day. However, he does not harm any of the motel guests, that is until Marion Crane shows up looking for a room. Just like the many women before her, (Mrs. Watson, Annika Johnson, Bradley Martin, Mrs. Decody) after getting roped in with Norman her fate is not very hopeful. After watching Marion through the peephole in her room he finally gets so overcome by Mother's jealousy that she takes over and kills Marion. Dylan calls as he is getting rid of the body and senses something is wrong. While Dylan does not catch Norman in the act, he can no longer keep him alone. One day Dylan goes too far and confronts Norman saying he knows he isn't well. In the heat of the argument Dylan runs into the basement and finds frozen Norma. Norman not wanting anyone to come between him and his mother kills Dylan. However, killing Dylan does nothing but further deteriorate Norman's mental state. Mother completely takes over and Norman is gone, along with all of his living family. Romero had been on to Norman for a while and happens to come in the house just at the right moment to see what "mother" had done. Romero turns Norman in and we end up with the iconic ending scene of Psycho with Norman smiling into the camera completely overcome by Mother. 

Gene Harlow: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

It was almost the following Christmas by the time Alex was released from prison. Two years. Two years for lying about his relationship with Rebecca. They couldn't pin anything else on him though - He was careful. He had always been careful. So they had had to make an example out of him - An elected official, "a pillar of the community" - That's what the judge had called him during the sentencing. "A pillar of the community committing perjury? I simply cannot be lenient under the circumstances. I'm recommending a full two year sentence with a chance to appeal after one year served." Rapists usually served less prison time.

 He was out in a year, with the help of his father's old, shrewd lawyer. Alex felt no real yearning for freedom, not now She was gone, but his desire for vengeance grew stronger with every passing day. And so he nodded his head in contrition and promised to never do anything like this again and followed his corrupt, slimy lawyer's instructions down to the letter, and sure enough, the following December, he was out, back in polite society.

 Day one of freedom was spent sitting in the dark in his old house, drinking the bottle of scotch he'd been saving for... Well, he didn't know what he'd been saving it for, but now seemed as good a time as any to drink it. He looked at the three items lined up on his coffee table, downing the last of his glass and pouring himself another.

 His gun, the one he'd been retrieving when he was arrested was lying next to the ring, his mother's ring... Norma's ring. And now she was cold in the ground, and her ring was lying next to the gun he was going to end his life with. He sighed, taking another long drink, wincing at the burn in his throat. He'd missed it - He hadn't drank since he'd married her, but he welcomed the blurring tug of oblivion pulling at his senses now, as he cast his eyes over to the final object lying there, taunting him.

 It was a gift. A Christmas gift from last year, beautifully wrapped in charming, classic wrapping paper, adorned with ribbons and bows. A shiny golden gift tag kept catching the light from passing cars outside, blinding him for a split second every time. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He didn't need to read it. He remembered it what it said.

 "Alex. Merry Christmas! To many more together. All my love, Norma x"

 It was a reasonably large box, quite heavy and he remembered her warning him not to shake it, with a wry smile on her face. "What is it?" He'd asked, cocking his head at the large box, as she placed it under the tree, only days before she was taken from him. "It's a box full of rocks." She'd answered, smiling over her shoulder at him, catching him hungrily watching her bending over.

 "Perfect. Just what I've always wanted." He'd swallowed her pretty giggle, pulling her in for a kiss under the mistletoe she seemed to have covered their home in.

 He was startled awake by that same giggle, echoing from his half dream, jerking awake, the contents of the box rattling from where it was balanced on his knees. It didn't matter what it was. Just that it was the last thing of hers. The last thing she'd ever give him. It really could be a box of rocks for all he cared.

 But it could wait. He had things to do before could finish this. He set it carefully back on the table, before slumping back in his chair, letting unconsciousness take him.

 He awoke with the birds, his head pounding, his mouth dry, his eyes landing on the gun first. Maybe he should just end it all now? His eyes flicked over to the ring. No. He'd been planning this all year. There was an order to this. There were things he needed to do first.

 "Hello?" He croaked, after spending the morning on the phone to old buddies at old stations around Oregon, calling in favours from people who just didn't want to owe him anything anymore.

 "Hello, Massett residence." Emma's voice bubbled through the phone line, giggling as if he'd just caught them in the middle of an inside joke.

 He ended the call abruptly, staring at the phone for a long time, taking slow deep breaths through his pounding hangover. "Massett residence"? His heart constricted painfully at the thought of Norma not attending her oldest son's wedding. He waited for what felt like an eternity before dialling the number again, sighing with relief when Dylan picked up.

 "Yeah?"

 "Dylan?"

 "Yeah. Who's this?" The gruff, familiar voice came through the line and Alex felt a strange swell in his chest.

 "Romero."

 There was a long pause.

 "It's Alex." He said, not sure Dylan had heard him.

 "Hi." Dylan said finally, puffing out a long breath. "What did he do now?" He said quietly, his tone reserved and Alex heard a door press shut quietly on the other end of the line, like he didn't want Emma to hear the conversation.

 "He's..." Alex started, trying to keep the shake out of his voice, trying to figure out what to say. "It's your mother. She's..." He trailed off, unable to voice the words.

 There was a long intake of breath and the sound of a chair creaking as Dylan sat himself heavily in it.

 "He do it?" He murmured quietly.

 Alex couldn't repress a quiet sob at Dylan's question.

 "Yeah." He ground out through gritted teeth.

 "Shit." Dylan was silent for a long time. "You get him?"

 "No. I... I can't prove anything." He faltered as he admitted his own failings. He had failed to protect her and he had failed at bringing her killer to justice.

 "Why are you calling me, Alex?" Dylan said suddenly. "What do you want me to do?" He sighed wearily, like he was tired of being pulled back into this mess, like he had finally felt free, at least for a little while.

 "Nothing." Alex said honestly. "There's nothing to do. I just needed to let you know."

 "Ok." There was a rustling sound as Dylan covered the mouth piece and Alex dutifully pretended he couldn't hear a few moments of muffled crying as Dylan broke down.

 "That was all I wanted to tell you." Alex mumbled, his voice almost robotic. "I'm sorry, Dylan."

 Dylan sniffled, and cleared his throat.

 "Hey." Alex blurted out suddenly. "Did you and Emma get married?"

 "What? No." He heard the confusion in Dylan's voice, and felt strangely comforted for a second.

 "She'll want to go to the funeral. When is it?"

 Alex stared at the ring glinting in the gloom of his darkened living room, focusing on it until it began to blur through his tears. He opened his mouth to speak, the words not coming out. He had planned to tell Dylan about Norma. That was all. This was too much.

 "Er... I'll let you know." His voice breaking obviously before he slammed the phone down, finally breathing out the anguished sob he'd been holding in the entire call. He should have told Dylan the truth. But he couldn't. He couldn't manage it. It wouldn't matter. It would all be over soon anyway.

 He tried to stand, his weak legs buckling under him. When was the last time he'd eaten? Or consumed anything that wasn't fifty year old scotch? Or slept anywhere but fitfully on this chair?

 He wasn't ready for the big showdown. Not like this.

 Day two of freedom had more of a sense of purpose around it. He stood, staring at himself in the mirror, not recognising himself. He'd aged a decade in the past year, the lines around his eyes deeper than before; the light sprinkling of grey in his hair that Norma used to tease him about was now threatening to take over. He ate, he showered, he dressed, going through the motions like he was going to work, not to kill his wife's son. And then himself. It felt strange, how entirely normal it felt.

 The day dragged on into the afternoon, the sun beginning it's slow descent as the light shifted, and Alex looked up, realising he'd been staring at the gift she'd given him last Christmas for hours, not even seeing it. He stood, reaching past the gift, taking the ring and tucking it securely into his pocket, and then grabbing the gun, palming it's heavy weight, weighing up the implications of what he was about to do.

 "She wouldn't want this." That voice piped up in his head, the voice that sometimes sounded like her. "She wouldn't want you to kill him."

 He sighed. He knew that. He'd wrestled with that same thought for the whole year.

 Maybe just one more drink? To calm the shake in his hands? He poured it, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye.

 "Don't do this." Her voice rang out, clear and sharp and unmistakable. There was a rustle and her form stepped forwards from out of the shadows, the swishing of her skirt around her bringing back such fond memories.

 "He's my son." She said, her voice breaking, her eyes burning a fierce midnight blue through the gloom of the curtained room. He could see the tears glistening on her face.

 "This isn't... You're not real..." He stammered, as she took another step towards him, growing clearer with each step.

 "Please, Alex..." She implored, and he squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to hear it.

 He awoke with a start, his eyes immediately flying to the darkened corner where she had stood, finding no-one there. The gun was still in his hand, resting on his lap, where he was slumped, slumbering in his chair again. He sat up, making a decision, slowly placing the gun back on the table. He didn't believe in ghost or angels or heaven or any of that bullshit, but maybe she was his conscience, telling him not to do this. Maybe she was right? It wouldn't bring him any peace. There was no peace for him now.

 He moved to stand up, the neatly wrapped gift catching his eye once more. It didn't matter what it was. But... his curiosity won out, and he leaned forwards, feeling his eyes prickle as he read over the tag one more time. He ran his fingers along the seams, pulling the paper away gently, tugging the ribbon open reverently, like he was undressing a woman, not opening a present.

 It was a plain brown box and he frowned, pulling open the top to reveal a box of Styrofoam packing peanuts. He cocked his head, starting to dig through them, feeling the slightest tug of genuine excitement at whatever she had got him. He laughed out a harsh, surprised laugh when he reached the bottom, his hand closing around several large rocks, weighing the box down. She hadn't been joking. She really had got him a box of rocks. And now she could never explain to him why this had been funny to her at the time. He wanted to laugh, and then he wanted to cry - He'd been obsessing over this package for an entire year, consumed with finding out it's contents, and it had been some obscure joke he would never understand. He almost hated her in that moment.

 His eyes fell on a post it note, stuck to the top of a large flat rock in the corner.

"Did I fool you?" Read her swirly, pretty handwriting and he grinned, happy to have another part of her with him now. She'd drawn a little smiley face next to it. And underneath that, "Turn me over..."

 He dutifully lifted the rock from the corner of the box, turning it over in his hands and freezing, feeling his heart stop in his chest. His blood ran cold, the breath forced from his body in a short, sharp breath that hurt his lungs. There, taped to the underside of the rock was a pregnancy test, with another post-it note stuck to it. "Surprise!"

 "Are you happy?" He could imagine her saying, her voice crystal clear and hesitantly excited, his brain forming the image of her sitting there, pretending to be unsure as he gazed at the little white stick in his hands.

 He stood abruptly, the box and it's contents falling to the floor, throwing the rock down with it and reaching for his gun.

 "Alex, wait." Her voice was ringing out again but he ignored her this time.

 "This isn't what I want!" She sobbed.

 "You're dead. I don't give a fuck what you want." He ground out, tucking the gun into his waistband and charging out of the house with a renewed determination.

Nothing prepared Alex for what he would find at the house. He swung his rental car into the parking lot, immediately seeing the unfamiliar car there, right next to Norma's old Mercedes. He immediately knew who it was.

 "Dammit, Dylan." He muttered to himself, heaving his aching body and aching soul out of the car and sprinting up the steps.

 He could hear the grunting and sounds of a scuffle as he quietly entered the house, allowing himself to listen for a moment.

 "You never liked her anyway! Why do you care, Dylan?" Norman screamed and there was a roar and a clatter.

 "She was our mother, Norman! How could you do that?!" Dylan yelled and Alex had heard enough, charging down the basement steps. It was dark, almost impossible to see, until he rounded the bottom of the steps, the basement dimly lit with dozens of tiny candles.

 "Norman!" He yelled, and Norman turned, being released by Dylan as they both turned in shock to look at him. Norman's mouth closed, blinking slowly like he'd been expecting this all along.

 "Hello Sheriff." He said politely, bowing his head at him. Alex glared, a rush of what to do now he was here flooding through him. He'd pictured this moment all year, but now it had arrived and he was unsure of what to say first.

 "I'm glad you're here actually. Your wife wanted to see you." Norman said, so calmly that, for a split second, Alex didn't take in what he was saying. He gestured to the large dividing wall that had sprung up since the last time Alex had been here, cutting the room in half. There was a loud humming noise coming from it, and Alex took a deep breath, feeling his hands start to shake.

 "What is..." He started, as Norman nodded his head, gesturing for Alex to follow him.

 "Come. You too Dylan. She missed you." He said, his voice eerily calm.

 Dylan exchanged a terrified glance with Alex, both of them taking a hesitant step forwards, towards the vast iron door in front of them. Alex's hand slid to his lower back, stealthily getting a grip on his weapon, making sure he was ready for whatever was behind the door.

 Norman turned, smiling the whitest, sharpest smile they'd ever seen, before swinging the door open with a flourish and stepping back. For a moment, a burst of cold air and a swirl of freezing mist blinded them, before it cleared and they took in the ghastly sight before them.

 Norma Bates, or some version of her was sitting in a golden chair, her skin pale and blue tinted, icicles hanging from her skin, her eyes, her hair. Her eyes, once the brightest shade of azure he'd ever seen were now lifeless and dead, glazed over with a film of icy pale blue. Around her were flowers and candles, chocolates and old records and stuffed birds surrounding her, like he was bringing a lover all of her favourite things, like he was building a shrine, with the ultimate doll in the centre of it all.

 He heard Dylan gasp from next to him, grounding him and, on instinct, he shoved Dylan to the side suddenly, the split second before Norman brought the kitchen knife slicing down into Alex's body. Hot met cold as he felt the warm blood soaking down his back, contrasting with the frigid air from Norma's icy tomb meeting the front of his body.

 He sank to his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on her, not able to drag his eyes away from her, even as he heard the sounds of fighting coming from behind him. It sounded far away and distant, his vision beginning to blur as the pain radiating through his shoulder and his back started to spread. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers experimentally. He was already beginning to lose feeling. Good.

 A sudden smell of smoke filled his nostrils and he dragged his eyes away from the defiled corpse of the woman he loved to see Norman and Dylan fighting, Dylan landing blow after blow as Norman tried his best to fend off his older brother's fists. Smoke swirled around them, flames starting to lick upwards from a candle, upturned during the fray, a frayed velvet curtain catching fire suddenly. Flames roared along the fabric, lighting up the room in a sudden burst of orange, casting a golden glow over Norman and Dylan, suddenly frozen in place.

 Norman took the opportunity to hit back, landing a blow on the side of Dylan's head that knocked him off his feet, and Norman scrambled, all three of them coughing as smoke filled their lungs, throwing himself on top of Dylan, closing his hands around his throat, pressing with all his might. Dylan choked, and spluttered for what little oxygen was left in the air, and Alex didn't hesitate, lunging, his body protesting at the movement, throwing his weight at Norman. They toppled off Dylan, who took a grateful lungful of acrid air, before sitting up with difficulty and pulling Norman back. The boy fell easily, his head knocking into the edge of the open freezer door, the clang echoing loudly before he fell limply onto the ground, unconscious.

 "Alex! Alex, come on!" Dylan shouted over the roar of the flames, reaching through the smoke, for Alex's jacket, getting a hold on him. He pulled him to his feet, frowning when he resisted his grip.

 "No..." He protested weakly, watching for a second as the velvet drapes fluttered down in torn ashen tatters, obscuring their view of her body for a second, still perfect and serene, even in the chaos of the basement. He reached for her, his numb, shaking hands faltering as Dylan pulled him back.

 "We gotta go! We can't do anything for her. We..." He paused, to cough, struggling to breathe the thick, grey air. "We can't..." He trailed off, tugging Alex up with the last of his strength, dragging him towards the stairs, both of them casting one last look back before taking a step.

 His eyes landed on her face, almost totally obscured through the smoke now, and he shoved Dylan forwards suddenly, pushing him up the steps.

 "Go! Go! I'll be right behind. Call 911!" Dylan hesitated for a moment, before something flitted across his face, and Alex could tell he just thought of Emma, of getting back to her. He nodded stoically, running the last few steps and throwing the basement door open, fresh air flooding down for a moment, before the oxygen fed the flames and they grew impossibly higher.

 He felt his skin start to burn, felt the lick of the flames around his feet as he turned, staggering through the haze, feeling for the body on the floor. There was a quiet groan, and Alex summoned every ounce of strength he had left in his fragile, broken body, ignoring the fresh wave of hot blood pouring down his back, ignoring the searing pain tearing through his chest. He pulled Norman up, grabbing at his wrist, dragging him to the steps and then flopping backwards, exhaustion taking hold.

 No. He wasn't letting him die down here.

 He coughed again, a horrible wracking cough, feeling for the banister, his vision useless now, clawing at Norman, his fingers managing to grip onto his sweater, heaving him up the stairs. He didn't know how he did it, how he managed to drag himself and the boy up the stairs. He had heard of mothers whose adrenaline made them able to lift cars of their trapped children. Norman wasn't his child. He hated him. More than anything, he wanted to leave him down there, to choke and burn and die, knowing he was paying for what he'd done.

 But then he'd thought of Her. And he'd somehow made it to the top of the stairs, to where he could hear Dylan shouting and struggling from the doorway.

 "They're there! They're they are!" He shouted, and Alex felt the weight of Norman being taken from him, and then strong hands were taking a hold of him too, and there were flashes of bright, reflective yellow uniforms as his eyes fluttered open and closed a few times.

 And then finally he was outside and he took a grateful deep breath of cold air. It wasn't enough. He knew that now. He'd known it the second he'd turned around on those stairs, collapsing as soon as he was outisde, his weight slowly being lowered to the floor.

 "You're going to be ok." A strong voice was saying, but he couldn't open his eyes to reply. He felt an oxygen mask being placed over his face. Pointless now.

 He took one deep breath, feeling a sharp painful jolt from deep within his chest, feeling a splattering of blood cough out into the mask as he exhaled.

 "Shit. What-"

 He opened his eyes, for one last time, his hand weakly slipping into his pocket, feeling his heartrate slowing. His fingers brushed against the ring there, feeling the cool metal against his fingertips, the last thing he'd ever feel. Through the smoke and the blur, he could make out Dylan, wrapped in a silver blanket sitting a few feet away, staring helplessly at him, and he turned his head, glancing over at the stretcher being carefully carried down the steps. Norman's hand flopped over the side and for one horrifying second, Alex thought it had all been in vain. But then he saw Norman's fingers twitch, managed to make out the telltale rise and fall of his chest as he breathed through the oxygen mask.

 Blood poured out of the corner of his mouth as he let his head fall, ignoring the paramedics and the firefighters bustling around him, uselessly trying to save him. He watched as the flames began to engulf the house, engulfing Norma Bates, her final resting place the home she had created here.

 And there it was. The most selfless thing Alex had ever done. His final act of love for her, saving the son she loved - The man he hated. Because she would have wanted him to.

 "I love you. I always will. Whether you're here or not." As the darkness pulled at him, feeling the icy grip of death finally taking hold, he thought of his final words to her. He had meant them.

 He smiled, his world fading to nothing.

 "Always..."

"You did the right thing, Dylan." Emma assured him gently, as they stared down at the gravestones, side by side, like they always should have been. Hers was empty, like it always had been, but they both pretended they didn't know that.

 "If I hadn't left him down there...?" Dylan said, turning away for a second. They both knew it was about more than the night at the house. "Maybe if I hadn't left altogether? They might both be-"

 "Shush..." She murmured softly, taking his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

 "Has he- Has he talked anymore about... 'her'?"

 He cut her off sharply.

 "No. They keep him medicated now. He can't see her- Or whoever the fuck he was seeing before anymore. He won't be seeing her again." Dylan spat the words harshly, and Emma turned, nodding to herself, taking a deep breath. She crouched down, settling the bunch of fresh peonies and daisies between the two headstones.

 "Bye Norma... Bye Alex." She sniffled to herself, rubbing her mittened hand under her eyes, before standing up again, and tugging his hand slightly. They turned, starting to walk away, before Dylan paused, stroking his fingertips over the cool granite.

 "Goodbye Mom..."

Mother says make sure to blow out all 10 candles. Happy Birthday, Tumblr! 

Things are not what they seem at the Bates Motel. Tune in Monday for a glimpse behind the curtain.

Mother has been preparing for your stay at the Bates Motel. Check in for the final season Monday at 10/9c on A&E.

He’s watching you. Check into the final season of Bates Motel Monday at 10/9c on A&E. 

They’re meant to be together... forever. Reserve your room at the Bates Motel Monday at 10/9c on A&E.

Sweet dreams. Check into the final season of Bates Motel Monday at 10/9c on A&E. 

Spread the love this Valentine’s Day

Will you share this with your special someone?

Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it's days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it's best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it. Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn't sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn't feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it's own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion... He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn't think of this place ever again. The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn't been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet. Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he's seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it's lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV's turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk. "It's such a nice place you have here." "We've been driving for hours so glad we found you." "You're really cleaning this place up kid." "Our stay was wonderful." "I'm going to give you a good review on Yelp!" "Thank you Norman Bates." It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother's mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time. "She can't do this! She can't leave me!" "Norman let her go!" Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn't count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen. Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn't cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn't been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That's why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement. The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman's steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn't touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table's surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind. Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it's hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house. "Norman please!" "I don't trust you anymore and that changes everything!" "Stop it Norman." "The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person." Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno's paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn't shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day. Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it's good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan's old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan... "I'm a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You're my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We're a family and we love each other we'll work through it." "Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!" "Calm down! You have to!! She's coming back!" "She's not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it's all your fault!" "Please, Norman.. Everything I've built with Mom, it'll, it'll all be destroyed." "You wouldn't actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?" Norman stood in the doorway of Mother's room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero. "I love you, Norman." "I love you too, Mother." "You mean more to me than anyone in the world." The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it's way into his throat. "Hey.." Her voice was soft and comforting. "You're a good boy, Norman." She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman's misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. "You're everything. Everything to me Norman." She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. "There's a cord between our hearts." Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn't form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go. He couldn't let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. "It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS." Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. "Now get the hell outta here." Norman's eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn't there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again. His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window. "We came here to start over, I am starting over." "We've been through a lot and this is our chance to start over." Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn't welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn't your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it's share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream. "We own a motel, Norman Bates!" A few tears fell from Norman's eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn't hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back. The End..

Mother has a few pearls of wisdom. The final season of Bates Motel premieres February 20th at 10/9c on A&E.