Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The weeds were harsh against his legs—his shorts not giving him much coverage—as he ran through the field. Wilted sunflowers and withered roses let their petals fall in his path, covering the tainted soil from his shoes. He crushed each one, along with sticks and kicking at small rocks. The soles of his feet were beginning to bruise and his knees wobbled with each step he took. He had been running for so long, his lungs crushing with every wheezed breath he took—something so pathetic in his mind. 

His vision blurred out and his eyes stung with tears that had pushed past the barrier, the threat to fall no longer hesitated. They skipped past his cheeks and made way behind his ears, mixing in with the strands of his hair that was matted with mud and dried blood. It stuck on his forehead and arms, something that itched against him, but he had no time to scratch it away. It sat uncomfortably, and he just let it soak him in.

The air was murky, foggy and humid, making sweat drip down his neck and cling to his clothes, something he wanted to wash away. The sky was gray; dark, but light enough to lead him through the path he conjured in his mind. There was no sun in the sky, but there was no moon either, clouds swarming and blocking away what he didn’t know could be there. It threatened to let the rain fall, the light breeze brushing against his skin doing the same, but that wasn’t something he found himself focused on.

He was focused on the running that gave chase after him and the hollowed screams of excruciating pain that echoed through the trees he had left behind. The blood on his clothes he knew he’d have to wash out—blood that didn’t belong to him. He was focused on the fear that clouded his judgement, trying to keep himself level-headed, despite his growing failure to do so. He was focused on making it to the highway, screaming out to the passing cars to stop and help him get home, away from the monsters he couldn’t face. He was focused on surviving what he knew he couldn’t.

He didn’t know what he was running from or what he was running towards—only hoping it would bring him to salvation—, but he knew stopping would be fatal. He didn’t know why the screaming was so loud, but he knew who it belonged to. It was conjured by the one who left his clothes soaked in red. It had spilled out from his chest at a rapid speed, dripping down and sticking to the grass he laid back on. It was so unexpected, and he didn’t know how it could’ve happened—he had only turned his back for a second. He tried to help, trying to stop the bleeding, but he was pushed away, his friend—his brother—begging him to get out of the woods and to safety. 

He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to leave him behind, and he was struggling to remember why he had. Maybe it was the rushing of leaves that whispered amongst him to mock, the taunting of laughter that circled through the creases of the wood, or the sudden running that was quickly growing closer. It didn’t make sense to him as he would never leave his brother behind. But, today, he had. It was too late for him to turn back now, his brother lost to the creatures that conquered the night, and that was his fault—he’d have to live with that.

He choked on his breath and it squeezed at his throat, a sharp pain coursing through his chest and rippling through his ribs. Every step sent needles through his calves, thighs pulling at muscle and popped creaking bones in his knees. He hadn’t run this fast and moved with such urgency in years. The adrenaline felt all the same, but the fear held such a burning difference. 

Getting caught didn’t mean a slap on the wrist or a few fines out of his pocket anymore, getting caught meant death in the claws of the demon that hid within the shadows. He couldn’t let that happen. People needed to know what happened here tonight, they needed to know that there was a body out in the woods. He refused to be another missing person never found as he rots away, skin and flesh eaten by the maggots and flies, decomposing and becoming fertilizer for the sunflowers and roses. 

His foot caught on the roots of a stump in front of him, the wood sharp against his calf, scrapping back skin as he fell over it. His knees bent, a bone snapping in his left leg as he landed on the ground. A scream erupted from the pit of his stomach, face down in the dirt—it was pitiful, really. He was heaving out sobs, trying to pick himself back up on his arms, trying to crawl away, but he couldn’t move. He curled in on himself, dirt caking his face as blood leaked out from his nose. His hope was lost in his cries, awaiting the fate life had in store for him.

The running from behind him had slowed to a calmer walk, a sinister call in the form of a weak whistle following. The shake in his shoulders heightened, leaning on his arms as he kept his head down and eyes squeezed shut, trying to hide himself away in the weeds. He moved a hand to his mouth, lip quivering as he bit down his sobs, holding his breath. He tried to imagine himself somewhere else, a bright place with green grass and sunny skies, but he couldn’t see anything but darkness—pitch black and starless skies, a somber story he lived in. 

It stopped walking beside him, his whistling coming to an end as well. When it took its seat beside him, a strangled cry fell from his cracking lips before he could stop it. His breathing was uneven and uncontrolled as the thin air went dry, waiting for another strike of pain, waiting to fall victim to whatever this thing had prepared for him. Snot ran down and mixed with the blood and salt from his tears, sweat beaded down his neck and he felt so weak—so vulnerable.  

His body froze when a hand lightly fell on his head, softly rubbing against his scalp and pulling through the knots of his hair. It was something meant to be comforting, something to soothe him, but it had the opposite effect as it made his fear pile. It never spoke, humming a soft tune that made him want to vomit. They sat there, listening to the helpless screams that choked and begged. He couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t pull away and run towards his friend. He just laid on his stomach as his legs began to feel numb.

He couldn’t hold back his sobs any longer once he felt the claws dig into his scalp, blood pooling down his face and dripping down to his hands. It never pulled him, never forced him to look up, so he didn’t. He kept his eyes shut, squeezing them with clenched teeth and helpless prayers. He sat, waiting for far too long and listening through ringing ears, unmoving from his spot.

Then, the screaming came to a sudden stop. Thunder roared above them as rain sprinkled down to his head and shoulders. It took its hand back, and then, it finally spoke with a smile in its deep and raspy voice, “Thank you, Samuel.”

He let out a gasp, eyes snapped open as his head shot up, and he just knew. He screamed out into the air for his friend, knowing it wouldn’t reach anyone, but he tried anyway, “Colby! ”

~>X<~

11:36pm

“Sammy! Come on, man, wake up!” Sam jumped with a gasp, pulling himself away from the hand pushing against his shoulder—the rings scraping against him. He blinked, letting the black splotches that crowded his vision fade out so he could take in his surroundings for a moment.

The leather of his seat peeled away from his skin as he moved, clinging back to him as he sweat despite the cold. There was a low humming from the engine and light music coming from the beat up radio—it scratched along each chorus. It wasn’t the best choice they’ve made when it came to getting a rental for a week, but it was the only option aside from a beaten up buggy. 

There was a dent on the left side of the hood and the handles were rusted, but it ran just fine. Two drinks sat in the sticky cup holders and the smell from their fast food run was still flowing through the car by the air conditioning. Loose fries sat on the floor, the salt sticking to the seat and poking against Sam’s pants. The seat belt he wore scratched against him, leaving behind a red mark on his neck.

He blinked again, shaking his head as he shifted around in his seat with a groan, trying (and failing) to rub the tiredness away from his burning eyes. His fingers slipped around his cheeks, feeling tears that soaked them—he hadn’t even realized, “What…?” He mumbled with a hoarse voice as he wiped them away, talking more to himself than Colby.

“You were crying in your sleep again.” Colby commented, finally pulling his eyes away hesitantly to watch the road in front of them, “Was it that nightmare?”

Sam hummed, wetting his lips with his tongue before pulling at them with his teeth, letting out a defeated sigh, “Yeah…”

Colby paused for a moment, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he swallowed thickly, “You… You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” His voice held no room for argument, folding his arms with a shiver that ran through his body.

Late nights in Virginia are expected to be cold this time of year, the autumn winds brushing through trees and nipping against exposed skin. It made Sam roll the window up, his hands grabbing at the sleeves of the sweatshirt that drowned his shoulders to find warmth again. He wanted to reach over and turn on the heat, but Colby liked the cold, so he decided against it as he laid his head against the window, eyes closing to find peace in the darkness.

The nightmares were new, something that hadn’t started until they landed in Roanoke about a week ago. The first night at the hotel had Sam jolting from his sleep in a hurried breath, tears soaking his face with a genuine fear that Colby was just gone . His sobs had awakened the other, and the night ended with Sam abandoning his bed to lay with Colby in his. He gripped at his shirt to prove to himself that he was still there, but he never found sleep again that night.

Then, it became a pattern, waking up in a cold sweat and tears, looking for Colby before he could truly calm himself down. Throughout the week, they started to hold less of an effect as he awoke—mostly just a headache and annoyance—, but that seemed to worry Colby the most. He had never had nightmares like these before, usually waking up and forgetting he even had them within minutes of the morning. He was concerned and getting through the night with restless sleep and harsh fears. But, despite it all, he refused to talk about it, not daring to burden Colby with this just yet.

“Okay, well, you’re gonna have to talk to me about these nightmares eventually, man.” Colby sighed, resting his elbow against the window seal and held his forehead. 

Sam only hummed, opening his eyes once again as he tapped his foot against the floor. He yawned, slouching in his seat, “How far out are we?” 

“About ten minutes, the owner is already there and waiting for us.” Sam hummed as his response, letting the silence soak in between them. He liked silence when he awoke, something comforting and a time to let himself feel relaxed before getting through a busy schedule. It seemed that they were always busy these days.

The drive from Roanoke to Front Royal was about two and a half hours north, stopping by Augusta County for gas and food, adding another two hours to their trip. Sam had admired the view the mountains gave and Colby rambled about anything and everything for the first half of the drive. Sam hadn’t meant to fall asleep after that, trying to fight it off because he knew what was waiting for him. A part of him felt bad that Colby was stuck in the car with no company for that time, but the other part of him was frustrated that Colby had let him sleep at all.

They had tried to get a hotel closer, but with Thanksgiving rolling in and families visiting one another, booking a room was near impossible. Colby had tried to reason, saying it was probably a sign they should hold this one off, but Sam insisted that they kept trying. He had said he had ‘a feeling’ about this house, but Colby had made the comment that Sam always had a feeling when it came to their investigations. Sam didn’t make much room for argument and Colby was easy to cave in when it came to him.

Sam smacked his lips together, throat dry and lips cracking, trying to shake off the dizzy feeling of sleep, as well as the pressure in his head. He rubbed at his eyes and leaned forward—his elbows leaning against his knees. He was sucking in harsh breaths, trying to shake off the feeling that something was watching him—that something was watching them.

“Sam? You good?”

“Yup, yeah, good, all good…” Sam’s voice cracked and he cleared it, shaking his shoulders back before sitting up, “I’m fine.”

Colby shook his head and moved his hand to the center console, turning off the radio, “Okay, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Colby-”

“I’m serious, Sam. You haven’t been getting any sleep this whole week and I just… I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You always have a bad feeling.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t have a demon up your ass every month.”

“Jesus Christ, Colby…” Sam groaned, unable to stop the chuckle that came out from his throat. He sucked in a breath, looking over with a tired smile, “Look, we already paid for the tour and I’ve been excited for this trip for months. I promise that if at any point I don’t feel comfortable or I just need fresh air, I’ll tell you.”

“And you won’t run off again?”

Sam hesitated, opening his mouth with excuses rushing through his head before it fell in defeat, “No, I won’t run off.”

Colby nodded, reaching a hand over to Sam's shoulder, “Good… I just… I worry about you sometimes.”

Sam nodded, the smile on his face fading away as he looked back out the window and towards the mountains that surrounded them. The sky was pitch black, a void that sucked in everything into a blank canvas. But maybe that’s why Sam felt so drawn towards it. The stars that sprinkled in and the moon that guided their path gave such a strange form of comfort. Anything within nature had always called to him like a siren, whether it be the oak wood of trees or the weeds that trapped themselves in loose concrete. He felt like he belonged, and that feeling was always so rare.

The car began to rock as they headed up the gravel driveway, dust flying past the windows and sticking to the paint of the car. It clouded them in, locked away in the safety of where they sat. Once the car came to a stop, Colby threw it in park. He pulled out the keys from the ignition and they both stared up at the house. 

It was all made from wood, surrounded by trees with a small pond on its left—completely isolated from the world. The roof looked as if it was meant to fall four winters ago and the steps leading up to the porch were caving in with cracks. Nothing about the house was stable, the windows were shattered and the door was loose on its hinges. One wrong brush of wind would send it tumbling like a house of cards, but that only made Sam more eager.

Colby sighed, opening his car door and stepping out, sucking in the fresh air. He liked the calm compared to the crowded streets of Los Angeles. It was peaceful, something that washed over him like the nice warmth of the sun on a Summer day. It made him want to move back to Kansas sometimes, but he knew that he’d never want to leave behind what he has worked so hard to gain.

He turned to face Sam when he heard his car door slam shut. He leaned on the roof of the car, tapping his fingers against it, “You sure about this?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

Colby nodded, “Just double checking… I’ll grab the camera, where’d you put it?” He asked, moving to the back seat to look.

“What?”

He stopped, looking back up at him with a raised brow, “The camera?”

“I thought you grabbed it?”

“Uhm, no? I said I’d grab the equipment, I didn’t mean the camera.”

“Okay, well, I assumed when you said ‘equipment’, you meant the camera as well.” Sam spoke in a sarcastic tone, not fully understanding the logic behind what the taller had been thinking. 

Colby took a breath, closing his eyes as he let his head fall back, clenching his fists and unclenching them again, “Awesome.”

“Look, man, It should be fine! We can just have fun with this on our own, have something for ourselves for once? Besides, we’re already here.”

Colby glared at him, squinting his eyes for a moment, “I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” Sam chuckled, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Once they gathered the rest of their things, they made their way through the gravel and towards the house. The rocks from under them kicked up, skidding along and crunching beneath their shoes. The crickets chirped, but the closer they would get to the house, the less they would hear them. And as they stood right at the steps to the porch, there was nothing but complete silence around them—not a sound beside their breathing. It threw Colby off, sending him an uneasy feeling, wishing Sam would just listen this one time so they could make the trip back to the hotel. But he knew Sam well enough to know he’d never do such a thing.

Sam took the first step, his foot landing on the creaking wood. It snapped under his weight, making him stumble slightly with a small curse under his breath. He pulled his foot back, staring down at the now broken step beneath him, unsure of what to do about it. 

“Don’t worry about it, it was meant to break eventually.” Both Sam and Colby jumped at the sound of a low voice, looking up to see a man in his late fifties standing in front of the door. He wore a beard, gray on the sides but white nearing his lips and nose. He stood tall, shoulders hunched slightly with a cane in his hand. 

“Mr. Berkeley?” Colby asked, and the man nodded.

“Please, son, call me George. You must be those ‘explorers’ I’ve been hearing so much about.” He chuckled, kind eyes and a bright smile, “You had a tour set, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” 

The man gripped at his cane as he started to turn towards the door with a groan, leaning on it more when he would take a step with his right leg, “Well come on in, boys, make yourselves at home.”

Colby followed first, moving up on the second step, but this time, the wood never caved in to his weight.

Chapter Text

1976

When the light flashed, Mary squeezed her eyes shut, moving a hand to pinch at the bridge of her nose, chuckling slightly when she heard David do the same, “It’s so bright, I hardly have time to register.” She spoke in southern drawls, shaking her head before opening her eyes again, looking up with a bright smile, “Do you think that one would come out nice?” She asked as David walked over to the camera on its stand.

“I think it’ll be perfect, my dear.” He answered, smiling just as bright as her.

She giggled, brushing her hands against her plaid dress, fluffing it out, “Good.” The sun was out and no clouds could be seen in the sky. It shined down, lighting up their brown buggy and brightening the rose bushes at the sides of the porch. There was a light breeze that brushed past them, grazing their shoulders and combing through their hair. It was a perfect day, something Mary loved and cherished. She breathed in the air humming lightly as she moved her hands behind her back. 

“Mary?” David asked, a small chuckle in his throat.

“I’m alright,” She smiled, “Come on, now, I’d like to get some unpackin’ done before supper.” She turned for the stairs leading up to the porch. When she pressed her foot against the first one, it snapped, causing her to shriek and stepped away, “Oh, damnit. David, it snapped again!” She called, folding her arms as she turned to look at him.

He came in from behind her, humming with the camera in his hand, “I’ll fix it tomorrow after work.” He hummed, walking to the second step, and it held him up, never snapping beneath his foot.

~>X<~

11:55pm

Sam stood close behind Colby, watching over his shoulder as George shoved himself against the cracked, wooden door with a grunt. It scraped against the frame as he forced it open, the rusted hinges squeaking as it swung wide open. Dust flew through, making way to Sam's airways. He coughed into his elbow, blinking away what had already gotten into his eyes. He hummed with a small chuckle when Colby clapped his shoulder, moving his hands up to wipe his eyes with his palms.

“The door gets stuck sometimes, but a little force should be alright. I’m a little old and certainly not as strong as I once was, so it’s a bit harder for me.” George chuckled, hand beating lightly on his chest as he led them into the home.

A long, dark red carpet sat in the entrance leading down through the hall. At the end sat a console table with a cracked mirror sitting above it. Sitting on the table was a small book with a leather cover, creasing and well loved. Beside it was a candle with its wax dripped down on the wood and a fairly new flower pot with fresh pink Orchids, Lavender and white Baby’s Breath. There was a picture frame at the edge, something old, creased and ripped. There was no color to it, a couple smiling, holding hands in front of their house—this house. The woman was young, hair curled and over her shoulders, a clip to keep her bangs away from her eyes. The man beside her was clean cut, hair short with kind eyes, keeping close to his wife. There was a ‘For Sale’ sign behind them, another atop it with the word 'sold'  in bold letters.

George pointed to the photo with a shaky hand, “That was the last couple to live here, freshly married and happy. This place only had three others, all died through heart attacks before them.” The boys hummed in response, curious as they nodded, looking around the area more. 

The walls were painted a light brown, something almost tan with smoke stains. Most of the bulbs were shattered, and the others simply didn’t work. To the left of the console table were dark oak stairs leading up to the second level and the living room beside it. An old, ripped up couch sat before a brick fireplace with a shelf above it holding a variety of plants: Tulips, Roses, Carnations, Aloe Vera, and Basil. A large painting was hung on the wall, a meadow with children running down the hill, laughing as the sun set behind them. It sat in a golden frame with dirt on the edges.

To the right of the hall sat a dining table with an entry way leading to a small kitchen. The table was made of maple wood, leaning on one side with four chairs around it. A chandelier sat above it, one chain broken and making it sway. Two of its bulbs were missing, and the others were burnt out. A window was placed behind the table, the curtains torn and the same red as the carpet in the hall. Candles sat as a center piece, placed on a rustic wood and almost used up completely. 

“I haven’t changed much about this place, I wanted to keep it stuck in time. My wife was the one to add the flowers and candles, saying it makes it more approachable. The only renovation I’ve really done is to the bathroom and the kitchen.” George spoke, walking through the dining room to the entryway, Sam and Colby on his heel, “I figured if people were going to come and stay here, they’d need a place with running water and working lights.” 

Once they entered the kitchen, George turned on the light and it was like they had walked into a completely new house. Tiled flooring sat below the cabinets and the island, two barstools at each end with red cushions. The marble counter tops glistened in the light, something clean and unused. The cabinets were a pearly white, something modern and almost boring. A window sat behind the sink, showing the forest behind them. 

“The bathroom is just through this door if you need it.” George spoke, pointing to the white door on their left. Another door with a window had taken its place just at the end of the cabinets, leading out to the backyard—a small, royal blue rug in front of it. 

“You did a lot of work here, huh?” Colby asked as looked around the kitchen and George chuckled.

“Oh, yes. I used to fix up houses when I was younger, but an electrical accident made it too hard to move around, so I was forced to quit.” George said, tapping against his cane.

“I’m so sorry.” 

George shrugged, “It’s not that bad. Just means I get to spend more time with the Mrs. and our son, Jeremy.”

Colby nodded, looking around the kitchen and scrunching his nose just a bit, “What made you want to buy this place?” 

“Well, I’ve always been interested in the supernatural, always seeing them myself when others couldn’t. More often when I was younger than now. After my accident, me and my wife searched for houses that I could walk around easier, and we stumbled upon this one. It wasn’t what we were looking for, but something about it was… intriguing. And, well, when I heard about the history, I wanted to have it for myself. Took my wife a lot of convincing, but she came around.” He smiled at the boys, face fat and wrinkles surrounding his eyes and mouth.

“And what exactly is the history?” Sam asked, eager to hear it.

“Oh, yes!” George jumped slightly, hand flat on the counter, “Well, the story isn’t quite as it seems. Something… unfortunate and not exactly understood.”

Sam raised a brow to this, “What does that mean?”

“Well, it was in the 1970’s, so when a death happened, neighbors figured they had a right to know what was going on and took it upon themselves to walk all around the scene, messing up the evidence. This was no different.”

Sam scoffed lightly at that, “But, this place is in the middle of nowhere, what ‘neighbors’ would even hear about this?”

“There used to be more houses around here, but most burned down or were flooded out. The only ones that really survived were miles out and renovated to withstand that better.” Sam hummed in response and George began to speak again, “So, the story starts with the last couple to stay here; David and Mary Kane.”

~>X<~

1976

The walls creaked and moaned, making Mary's hands twitch and shoulders hunch, sending her to turn towards the sounds with a shaky breath. The lights were off as she stood in the hall, the night wind brushing through the curtains. She swallowed thickly, moving hesitantly towards the whispers that echoed in her kitchen, calling out to her like a siren.

Her bare feet moved slowly against the wood, folding her arms to her chest as she searched for the thing behind the voices. Her nightgown tickled at her calves, making a shiver course through her body, biting her lip as she stood just outside the entry way. She searched through the kitchen, eyes wild as they tried to capture what was growing louder. 

She smacked her lips together, leaning her head forward, “Hello?” 

The bathroom door cracked open to her call, making her gasp and stumble, breath quickening as she stared—mouth dry and eyes unfocused. She couldn’t see it, but she knew something stood inside. It glared at her, and she blinked back. Paralyzed, unable to move as she stared at the shapes the dark created. It beckoned her to come forward, to join it within the tight walls. 

The voices stilled and she held her breath, wishing to call out for her husband, but she had no voice to do so. “Mary…” It whispered, something sweet, but darkening as it chained itself to her soul. Her hands shook, feet stumbling away until her back met with the dining table.

“Mary…” It called again, something more demanding and she couldn’t stand it.

She moved her hands up and over her ears, squeezing her eyes, “No.”

“Mary?” A hand was placed on her shoulder, causing a yelp to erupt through her, jumping away as she looked to her side. 

“D-David?” She asked with shock, studying him for a moment before looking back towards the kitchen. The bathroom door had closed and she couldn’t feel its presence, but she knew it was still around. She knew it was still watching her, knew it would keep watching her until it got what it wanted, and Mary feared she knew what that was.

“I woke up and you were gone… Is everything okay?”

She whined, shifting closer to David, hand weakly gripping at his shirt, “I-I… I saw something in the bathroom… I heard it.”

David sighed and Mary looked up at him with pleading eyes. He wrapped his arms around her, hand in her hair as he rubbed her scalp, “Honey, we’ve been over this, there isn’t anything in the house.”

“But-”

“Have you been taking your meds?” He asked, pulling away. 

She looked up at him, scoffing slightly, “Are you serious?”

“Mary-”

“Do you seriously think I’ve gotten so bad that I can’t determine what's real and what's fake?”

“I didn’t say that!” David defended with his hands on her shoulders, but she pulled away, shaking her head as she moved her bangs away from her face.

“I’m going to bed. Just- Sleep on the couch or something.”

—

Mary cursed lightly when the plate in her hand slipped through fingers, shattering in the sink and hiding within the soap. She turned off the running water with a groan, sitting her hands on each side of the sink as she shook her head, sighing slightly. She had been doing the dishes for an hour, cleaning the house for almost five. She was tired and burnt out, but she liked to keep herself busy when David was out at work. But, nowadays, she likes to keep herself busy even when David comes home. 

They had started to fight about the voices and missing sliver, about Mary's episodes and her medication. They had never fought over things like that, he had always been so understanding over her diagnosis, unlike her father and the people from her home town. David and her mother were the only ones to stick by her side, but now, it felt like no one was with her. 

Her mother just wanted her to check in with her doctor and David refused to listen, only ever asking if she had taken her meds. She felt like she was drowning in her own home, like she was really truly losing her mind. She wanted to keep herself together, but more than anything, she wanted someone to believe her—believe in her. It was getting frustrating, but she understood why they had their hesitations, and maybe that's why she hated it.

She sighed, shoulders hunched as she shook her head. She was tired and over everything she had seen and heard, wanting nothing more for it to stop. If anything, she wanted to be normal. The kind of normal where the whispers from people she barely knew would stop and her father would answer her calls. And just when she was starting to get comfortable again, this house had to draw her back out to a land where she couldn’t control her own imagination.

“Mary…” She froze, the hair on the back of her neck staining up straight. Her breath hitched, slowly turning towards the voice. She wanted to ignore it, wanted to be normal, but she couldn’t resist the call. 

“H-Hello…?” She tried, pulling her hands away from the sink, the water dripping to the tiled floors of her kitchen from her fingers. There was a hysterical laughter that made her flinch, hands clenching as she stared out into the darkened dining room. The light was just on, but now, it was only illuminated by the light that bled in through the curtains. 

“Mary…” It was more demanding, just as it always is the second time around. 

“No. I’m not doing this again.” She spoke with every last bit of confidence she could force up, “Just leave me alone.” She pleaded, voice distraught as she tried to reason. She didn’t know what she was exactly talking to, but she knew she was talking to something.

“Mary! ” It was a horrid yell, something that left her screaming. There was running, but it didn’t come closer towards her. It skipped through the hall and up the stairs, screaming and whaling, making her hands clamp over her ears, but it never blocked out the sounds. She heard the master bedroom door slam shut and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing loudly, drool slipping from her mouth with snot beside it. She was so tired and so afraid, she didn’t have the energy for anything anymore.

The screaming was growing louder and she couldn’t take it. She scrambled to her feet and made way to the back door, shoving herself through it, running out and through the backyard to the forest. Her bare feet stepped through pine cones and sticks, rubbing harshly on her skin, but she never stopped. She kept herself moving, tears sprinkling down her cheeks.

She didn’t stop for a while, and when she did, she had landed herself to the other side of her neighborhood. She asked around, begging and pleading with the others, explaining that someone had broken into her home, that something was in there. The sheriff was called, a clean cut man by the name of Anthony Jones, and David was soon to follow. 

They watched from outside as Anthony swept through the home, only to find that it was completely clear, not a single trace of a break in. The news unsettled Mary and made David angry. They fought that night, something that went on for so long and left David in the guest room and Mary sobbing on her bed.

—

“Why can’t you just admit you have a problem, Mary!” David yelled. The couple was in the dining room, another fight raging on through the walls of their home. 

“Because I don’t! I know what I’m hearing is real!”

“What, real like the figure you saw at the foot of our bed?! The one I couldn’t see?!”

Mary groaned, hands slamming on the table in front of her, “I know what I saw, I know it was there! I’m not crazy, David! I’m not!”

“Well you sound crazy!” David's voice bombed through and Mary grew silent, looking at him with widened eyes. Through everything—despite everything—, David never dared to call her that. A hand raised to his mouth, taking what he had said, “Mary, I-”

“Is that really what you think of me? Some insane manic-depressive mess who's waiting to crack?”

“I didn’t mean-” Before he could finish, a knock from the front door cut him off. 

Mary sighed, fluffing her dress as she made way to the door, “Great, the neighbors are gettin’ into our business again.” She gripped at the cold knob, twisting it and opening the door with a fake smile on her lips, “Officer Jones, what a pleasure.”

Anthony Jones stood with his arms crossed, sunglasses sitting atop his head with a blank face, “Mrs. Kane, I assume you know why I’m here?” 

She sighed, head leaning on the door, “I’m afraid I do.”

“This is the seventh time I’ve been called about the fighting, Mrs. Kane, may I suggest consulting?"

“You may not.” She cut him off, “Thanks for coming by, but please don’t bother.”

“It’s my job, ma’am.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you can do your job elsewhere.” She spat, closing the door before leaning back on it. The room was silent, neither one bothering to speak as Mary stared out to the mirror in front of her. She was reeling from the fight, unsure of what to make of it.

“Mary? Honey, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t want to talk with you right now. I-I don’t even want to look at you.” She finished, pushing herself off the door before walking away, wiping the run away tears on her face.

—

The lights were off in the home, not a soul could be heard from inside as Anthony sat outside the door. The complaints and the calls about the Kane’s had grown to be too much, something he didn’t quite know how to solve. But that's not what had him here today. His shift had ended about an hour ago, so he decided to take the twenty minute drive over after his dinner to check on Mrs. Kane, knowing her husband would be working late. All he wanted was an understanding, to help the couple before it was too late.

He sighed, standing just before the door, feet tapping against the porch as he worked up the courage to knock. And when he did, it was loud, echoing off the walls as he called through the door, “Mrs. Kane? Its officer Jones. Look, no one called, I’m here as a friend.” There was no response, so he knocked again, hoping she was coming to answer soon. “Mrs. Kane?” 

Silence. It put him on edge, something eerie as he walked towards the window leading in light to the dining room. He got up close, hands on the glasses as he squinted his eyes, trying to see through. The dining room was empty and it seemed no one was in the kitchen. It seemed like that was it, the house was empty and no one was home. 

But, just as he was starting to pull away, something in the kitchen pulled his attention back towards it. Feet laying on the floor, twitching as they peeked out from the island, pale and fragile. His breath hitched, squinting his eyes and leaning in closer to have a better view. The floor boards creaked and it had him unsettled, a feeling of being watched from inside the house and back out. And that's when he heard it, a blood curdling scream that should’ve shattered anyone's vocal cords coming from the kitchen.

He pushed himself off the window and ran for the front door, hand gripped on the knob as he tried to twist it open, but it wouldn’t budge. He rammed his shoulder against the wood, groaning and cursing as it pushed back. “Mary! Mary, hold on, I’m coming!” He tried, using all his strength against the door, but he found it to be no use. And when the door knob started to burn and sizzle in his palm, he was forced to back away. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to question it.

He moved fast, jumping over the steps and rounding the house, feet stomping against the grass until he made way to the back door. When he grabbed the knob, he found it to be even hotter than the front, causing him to scream and stumble away, holding his wrist with a curse on his lips. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that Mary needed help, that he needed to get her out of here. 

He backed up, hand on his head as he tried to think through the countless anxious thoughts running around his brain. He searched the wall of the back of the house for something, smacking his lips together when he spotted a window fairly close to the ground, something he could fit through. He went for it, elbow out and ready, adrenaline rushing through his veins. It collided with the glass, but it never shattered, so he tried it again, and then again. Over and over until his elbow was screaming at him to stop. 

“Fuck! Fucking damnit!” He yelled, hands running through his hair as he stared through it. An idea crossed through him, something stupid, but something that would work. He met with his holster, hand gripping the pistol as he raised it, pointing it towards the window. His finger slipped on the safety, turning it off while the other settled on the trigger. He took a breath and took his shot, watching as the glass fell apart and on the tiled floor of the Kane’s bathroom.

He hopped up on the window sill, cutting his hand on the shredded glass, but he didn’t worry about—he didn’t have the time. His boots crunched on the glass below him and he ran through the already open door, “Mrs. Kane?!”

He stopped just as he entered the kitchen, mouth opening with no sound, staring down at what should’ve been impossible. Her fingers were pitch black, dripping into her veins and spreading up her arms. Her body twitched every so often, eyes rolled back and open, lips a dark blue as she struggled to breathe. He figured it was blood that was dripping down from her mouth, staining the floors in her kitchen, but when he took a step closer, it was all black. 

“Holy shit-” It came out before he could stop it, hand over his mouth as he stared, not knowing what he was meant to do. Her head snapped—a loud crack echoing and making him shiver—, looking up to meet his eyes. And then, she smiled, something wicked that pulled back on the skin of her face, ripping it open until it reached her ears. 

“Officer Jones…” It wasn’t her voice, not a hint of southern drawls in the mix of a demented voice scratching against her throat. Something that called like a siren, possessing a girl who meant no harm, only to cause nothing but just that. 

“No…” He whispered, taking a step back as she rose to her feet, bones snapping out of their place, just to go right back again. Her shoulders hunched and her hair stayed in front of her face, but that seemed to be no problem for her. 

She took a step forward and laughed, “Officer Jones…” It was more demanding and it sent him running. He made way through the kitchen, making a break for the front door, but was faced with the same problem he had before. He kicks and screams, annoyed and afraid, trying to get out and away from that thing that held Mary's life on a string.

Something choked just a few feet behind him and he turned slowly, watching more of the black and blood spill from her mouth and eyes, dripping to the rug and her feet. It made him gag, wanting to throw up, but he held it in. He backed away until he met with the couch, staring as she closed in on him.

“Mary, come on, this isn’t funny-”

“She knows that...” It spoke back and it made him shake, eyes wild as he tried to understand.

“Wh-What?” Her eyes came too, showing off to be black with a speck of yellow, something that made him whine beneath it. It laughed at him, head turning and staring, eyes twitching as it stumbled forward. 

Everything had moved so fast, sprinting around with Mary chasing after him, a laugh and a choke spilling through every so often. He didn’t remember what had him upstairs, hiding in the master bedroom with his pistol in hand, but he knew that it needed to end, that Mary was beyond his help. He tried to convince himself that she would’ve wanted this, that David would understand, but he couldn’t hold onto that hope as it slipped away. All he wanted was to survive and make it back home to his daughter. 

The door creaked open and his gripped squeezed as he heard her walk in closer.

~>X<~

12:32am

“No one really knows how Mary and Anthony died. Most people speculate that Mary hadn’t been taking her medication and had an episode. Some even say she had an episode because of her medication. Bipolar wasn’t handled as well then as it is today. Another rumor that was spread was that David was the one to kill them, that he had caught them having an affair and lost it. But, the autopsy had proved that David wasn’t even in the room when they had died. But, back then, when a rumor like that is spread, it sticks.” 

“What ever happened to David?” Sam asked.

George hummed, walking them up the stairs, “Well, the poor boy was found in this room with a bullet through his head about a month later by his mother.” He opened the door just at the top of the stairs, leading them into the master bedroom.

“Suicide?” Colby asked, and George nodded. 

The bed was pushed against the wall next to the door, a royal blue comforter with extra blankets folded at the edge. Four large pillows sat against the headboard, a night stand sitting on each side. They both held a lamp, one with a pile of books, sitting crooked and leaning more on its right side, and the other with a yellow rotary phone. Above the bed was a painting of the couple from their wedding day. Happy and just as close as they were in the other photo in the hall, but this had color to it.

A large window covered by a curtain sat two left wall of the bed, looking down to the front yard. There wasn’t much left in the room, just a dresser with a large mirror and a glass case sitting on top of it. A blue necklace sat inside, along with a diamond ring in the middle of it. Colby stared at it, hands on his knees as he examined the jewels and the silver. 

“Those belonged to Mary.” George said and Colby turned back towards him, “Her engagement ring and a necklace gifted by her mother, her something blue, I believe.”

Colby nodded, standing up straight and folding his arms, tightening them at the chill that suddenly coursed through the room, “Damn, it's cold in here…” 

“Sorry about that, I haven’t been able to get the heater workin’ yet.” Colby only nods, looking around the room some more, trying to find more details that he had missed.

“Mr. Berkeley, I gotta ask, what do you think happened here?” Sam asked, not fully convinced of the rumors.

George shrugged, tapping his foot against the floor, “I’ve tried hundreds of times, so have others, but we can never seem to get a straight answer from this place. I’ve never seen or heard any of the things that Mary had, so truthfully I believe the rumors. I believe both the spirits of Mary and David haunt this place, and Mary seems to attach herself to those who seem… detached ." It wasn’t the answer Sam had exactly been hoping for, but he takes what can get with a smile and a nod. “Alright, boys, let's finish the tour so I can get out of your way.”

Georges walks back out the door and down the small hall to the guest bedroom. Sam and Colby follow, Sam trailing behind with his hands shoved deep in his pocket. Just as he passes the stairs, he stops at the feeling of eyes. He turns his head to look down on them, but the dark just stares right back at him. Something is beckoning, whispers of his name among other things, shapes conjured in the dark.

He takes a step back, breath hitched slightly as he stares. He's unsure of what he’s looking at, but he knows he's looking at something . A shadow on the wall or a trick of the light, he isn’t so sure and he wants to know. He rests his hands on the railing, squinting his eyes as he studies it, trying to understand what he knows he shouldn’t. 

“Samuel…” It calls to him and he almost listens, fingers tapping against the wood as he feels the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. His mouth feels dry as he smacks his lips together, eye twitching as he continues to stare. All he really wants is to understand it, he just wants to know—thats all he’s ever really wanted.

“Samuel…” It’s more demanding, and it makes him step back, pulling his hands away. It's like someone had flicked a switch and suddenly he wanted to run away. He felt the burning urge—the need—to run out of the house, breathe in the fresh air and never look back. He can hear the voices amongst it begin to laugh, roaring, and he wonders why no one has said anything about it yet.

Then, the voices still and he's left wondering where they had gone. He leans forward slightly, mouth parted as he's ready to ask who's there, but he freezes when he hears the whistling. His eyes widen as it echoes through the downstairs, flowing up to him. It haunts him, making him want to throw up as he listens. A low tone, something that makes him shake—the same song from his nightmares.

“Sam?” A hand was pressed on his shoulder making him jump. The whistling comes to an end and he sighs, looking over at Colby as he shrunk in on himself slightly.

“Jesus Christ…” He huffed, hand on his chest as he shook his head, “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Yeah… Are you okay?”

Sam nodded, running his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, I’m alright, I just kinda zoned out for a minute.”

Colby stared at him, studying his figure, solely unconvinced as he folded his arms, “Sure…”

Sam chuckled nervously, walking past Colby to the room their guide was occupying, “I promised I’d tell you if I needed out and right now, I don’t. I’m fine.”

Colby sighed, following close behind, “You also promised you wouldn’t run off and I almost thought you had.”

Sam chuckled, punching at Colby's arm and making him snicker, “Come on, man, I won’t!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let's go catch up with George.”

Chapter Text

1:23am

Empty.
Dark.
Empty and dark.

Dancing in a flask of nothing, swirling in his vision as he stares out towards the dining room. His head tilts, eyes focused and pupils dilated. His body is still, feeling impossible to move. The dark stretched, howling as his vision narrowed. Everything felt hotter, blood boiling beneath his skin, but still, he didn’t move. He felt scorched by the sun, but it didn’t shine where he stood. It was a blaze that made the sweat drip, drip, drip down his forehead. He wanted to curl in on himself, throw up what he had eaten last and sleep for just a moment on the cold floor, but he couldn’t move.

He was so fixated on the somber feeling, drowning in the way it called to him, feeling the salty waters clog his throat. His hands twitched, an urge to reach out for it, to answer the silence with a shaky breath and absolute devotion. Devotion? Oh, temptation to answer the call that bit away at his skin, teeth digging into flesh and feeding on the blood that dripped away, leaving scars. 

Scars can’t be hidden.

It pinched and scratched, but he didn’t have the energy to fight it. He couldn’t force himself if he tried, couldn’t move away from the tenebrous visions. His knees wanted to give in, clash with the tiles of the kitchen floor as they wobbled at such a heavy feeling. He felt forced to kneel before it, to worship what he shouldn’t, and it rushed the calm to unease. But, still, he couldn’t move.

“Samuel…” It was a whisper, sweet to the ear like candy, breaking through the silence and making him take a step forward. He stretched an arm out and towards the dusk of dawn, elbow bent as he hesitated.

“Samuel…” A strong voice, something rough, breaking through the trance and revealing intentions. He gasped, backing away and pulling his arm back into his chest. A soft whine got stuck in his throat—something that went unnoticed—with a violent need to breathe in fresh air. Maybe he should leave. Maybe he should run. And he knows he’ll drag Colby away with him, even if it has to be by the collar of his shirt.

“Colby…?” The voice was more questioning, more curious and intrigued, and Sam nearly cried because of it.

“No…” He mumbled, swallowing before his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His brows furrowed, jaw set as he leaned himself forward, “No.” It was a demand, staring out as the whispers laughed and a voice echoed, but it went unheard to Sam's ears. He felt small, but he’d be damned before he backed down. Colby was his, he wasn’t meant to be pawned. He’d go to the edges of hell and back for him, he’d capture a star just in the atmosphere and keep it from burning out for him. Sam wasn’t going to trade this cursed fear to him, so he’ll keep him out of it all.

“Colby… Colby… Colby…” Repeating over and over, that name, a friend he cherished—a friend he’d die for. He groaned, the voices growing louder, taunting, mocking, laughing. He covered his ears and squeezed his eyes, strands of his hair gripping his fingers as they locked in place. He tried to shut everything up, tried to block them out, but found it useless. It was tense, poking at him, mocking his weakness when he knew it was also his greatest strength. 

“Stop!” He shouted into the abyss, looking up to the darkness to find the empty was finally filled. A concerned face staring him in the eye, hand pulled back into his chest as he breathed heavily, unknowing to the dangers Sam was now aware of. Sam swallowed, pupils shaking as he struggled, “Colby, I-”

“Sam, what the hell is going on?” Colby asked, almost frantic as he looked him up and down, “You’re scaring me.”

Sam bit his lip, looking over the taller to the dark, eyes searching, but finding nothing. Because that's all that was really there, nothing. Everything was fine. What dangers could possibly be there that Colby couldn’t hear? “I just… I thought I heard something.”

“Heard what?”

Sam opened his mouth, struggling and fighting for the words before he let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding, shaking his head, “It’s nothing, I’m just paranoid.”

Colby hummed, “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Sam sighed, arm crossing over his chest with a hand rubbing his forehead, “Honest, Colby, I’m fine.”

Colby moved himself to stand beside him, “You know I know you’re lying, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m gonna pretend that you don’t.” He picked himself up, turning to look at the equipment Colby had laid out: A REM Pod sat at the entrance of the kitchen with an EMF reader, two flash lights and an Ovilus sitting on the counter. Sam chuckled slightly at himself, always feeling so ridiculous using such things. After all the years he had asked the shadows concerning the night strange and absurd questions, he had gotten used to the feeling. 

He reached out and picked up a flash light and an EMF reader, watching it rush through the green, hitting a hint of yellow, but never daring to touch red, “You know what questions you wanna ask?”

Colby sighed, rolling his eyes as he picked up the Ovilus and switching it on, “Yeah, I got an idea. George mentioned that getting the spirits around here to answer us is going to be tricky. They don’t like talking about what happened, and if we push it, we might not get anything at all.”

“So, what do you wanna talk about?”

Colby shrugged, “Who they were and their relationship after they moved here. I think through that, we can build trust and get them to open up more. We can put the pieces together as we go.”

“That should work.” Sam commented, waving around the equipment in his hand, a little disappointed over how it never spiked. 

“Is there anyone with us tonight?” Colby asked, voice loud and inviting, holding out the Ovulis. It was quiet, not a sound aside from a few creaks above them that had them jumping slightly and giggling amongst themselves. When no response came, Colby tried again, “Is there anyone with us in the kitchen?”

They jolted at the sound of the REM Pod spiking, going off for only a second. They breathed heavily, patiently waiting as the floorboards creaked and the house shifted. Sam had his flashlight pointed towards it, waiting with his grip growing tighter. He felt unsettled, but he kept his worries to himself.

Here.

The boys smiled at each other as the Ovilus spoke, a spark of confidence and an eager flash paced them, bouncing on their heels as Colby spoke again, “Who’s here?” A moment passed before it blinked with a response.

David.

“Which one was David?” Sam asked, “The husband, right?” 

Kane.

“Yeah.” Colby answered with a smirk, snickering when Sam shoved his shoulder against his with his own chuckle. His thumbs tapped against the Ovilus as he tried to think of another question, his mouth barely open before it went off again.

Leave.

“Oh, that’s… fun.” Sam commented, watching over Colby's shoulder, not noticing the equipment in his hand sticking to yellow with a flash of red every now and again. He felt chills on his arms, a pressure on his lower back and slowly rising, but he ignored it all.

“Why do you want us to leave, David?” Colby asked.

Unsafe.
Him.
Hurt.

Colby raised a brow, turning to look at Sam, “Is he talking about Anthony?”

“Could be? I mean, one of the rumors around here was that he and Mary were having an affair. Maybe they really were and it was during that that Mary had an episode.” Sam tapped his chin in thought for a moment, “Do you think he could’ve said something during that interaction that set her off?”

“It’s possible, but we don’t know if they were doing that. We don’t even know if Anthony is here.”

Sam bit at his lip, thinking over what Colby had said before asking his own question, “Is Anthony here?”

No.
Gone.

“Gone? What do you mean by that?”

Dead.
Kill.
Gone.

“Woah-” Colby laughed nervously, “This thing is going crazy, it never goes off this fast.”

Dead.
Kill.
Gone.

“Are you sure it’s not broken? It just keeps repeating the same thing.” Sam reached for it, but Colby pulled it away as he shook his head.

“No, I just got this thing, it can’t already be malfunctioning.”

Dead.
Kill.
Gone.
Anthony.
Mary.
Him.

And just as it started, everything went silent. The Ovilus blinked, but no words were displayed for them to read. It left them confused and a little on edge. “That was… weird.” Sam spoke, taking a seat on one of the bar stools as he rested his arms on the cold counter top of the island.

Colby nodded in agreement, “Has the EMF gone off at all?”

Sam looked down at it and shook his head as it blinked on green, holding it up to show Colby, “Nope. I don’t think we’re gonna get much in here, man. Maybe we should try in the bedroom. There’s gotta be a lot up there if that's where Mary and Anthony had died.”

No.

Colby looked down at the Ovilus, a little surprised at the response towards a statement that wasn’t meant for him, “No? Why shouldn’t we go up there?”

Unsafe.
Him.
Hurt.
Dead.
Kill.
Gone.
Anthony.
Mary.
Him.

“Oh, God, not this again.” Sam groaned, leaning his head back as he faced the ceiling.

Colby took a seat beside him, crossing his legs, “Can you tell us who you’re talking about? Who is ‘Him’?”

Can’t.
Closer.
Sam.

“Holy shit, dude, it said ‘Sam ’!” Colby laughed, excited as he looked at him, but Sam couldn’t return the emotion.

The hair on his neck stood, his heart racing through his chest as he looked down at the Ovilus. There was a sudden rush of nausea pushing through him, like a drug that poked in his veins. He couldn’t shake the feeling, couldn’t wish away the eyes or the drowning. Drowning deeper, waves crashing over him, swallowing him, choking his throat in salt. He knew what he feared, he just wondered if Colby could feel it too—he wondered how David couldn’t.

“Sam, are you-”

“Is he here?” Sam cut Colby off, voice wavering as he asked. Colby looked at him confused, wanting to push, but Sam put a hand up to stop him from speaking. He stared at the Ovilus, watching intently and growing frustrated when nothing appeared. David never responded and it angered him, “David, is he here?!”

“Woah, Sammy, relax.” Colby put the Ovilus down, placing his hands on Sam's shoulders, “What has gotten into you?”

“I need David to answer me.” Sam was firm, arms tense and breath heavy, and Colby didn’t like it.

“Maybe we should-”

Coming.
Run.
Kitchen.

“What the fu-” Colby didn’t get to finish as Sam clasped his hand over his mouth, standing to his feet in a hurry—sending his seat to tumble on the ground—as he searched through the kitchen, trying to catch what he knew Colby couldn’t see. He could hear it, the laughter, the taunts, and it only grew closer.

‘Mary seems to attach herself to those who seem… detached.’

George's voice echoed in his head and Sam wonders if it was really Mary who had been the one doing this. And he knew he didn’t have to set his worries on Colby, as he had always been the most down to earth person he knew. But he couldn’t say the same for himself. Everything—his fears, his nightmares, his beliefs—had been slipping away from him, haunting him and making him more distant. 

He was detached, just as Mary was.

Colby pulled his face away from Sam's hand, concerned and afraid, “Sam, what's going on?” He whispered, wishing for an understanding, trying to help through a quiet manner.

“Do… Do you hear it?” He asked, staring out towards the dining room, the dark swirling once again, “The laughing?”

Colby stood beside him, looking where Sam stared and back to him again, “Sam, what are you talking about? No one's laughing.”

“David couldn’t hear it either…” Sam mumbled, looking at the ground as he tried to think. He was working to click the pieces together, going faster than he should’ve, an understanding, a plea on Mary's behalf, “Th-That's why he didn’t believe her. She was Bipolar, a-and off her medication, it was harder for others to believe when no one else heard it.” He rambled, words quickening as his eyes widened, “It wasn’t an episode, it was-”

Him.

The REM Pod spiked and Sam's head shot up, shaking suddenly as the air grew thin. A figure tall as the ceiling, white eyes with red pupil sticking in the black, shadows swirling in and around as a smile presented itself with yellowed teeth and drool dripping to the ground. The laughter persisted and the REM Pod popped—plastic ripped apart and useless—making Colby jump. But Sam didn’t move, his legs paralyzed as he stared, afraid of what it’d do if he looked away. 

“Do you see it…” Sam's voice was a wavered whisper, barely understood by Colby as he looked where Sam did. 

“See what?” Sam couldn’t speak, fearing he’d choke, “See what, Sam?!”

No.

The Ovilus went off from behind them—answering the question for Colby—and Sam dropped the flash light from his hands, watching intently, unsure of what he could do. He wanted to get them out, wanted safety for Colby, willing to stay behind if it meant he was safe. He could push him out the door, shove him back into the car and send him on his way. He doesn’t care what could happen to him, as long as Colby was safe.

Go.

“Samuel...” That damned voice nearly had Sam sobbing. He watched, breath hitching as its jaw unhinged, dropping slowly, extending down, down, down. Its bottom teeth barely reached its knees, eyes rolling back as the laughter only grew louder and deeper, a sound of screaming in the mix of it all. He couldn’t handle it any longer, wishing for it to end, for an out. He backed away, hand gripping at Colby's wrist as he dragged him alongside him. 

“Sam, talk to me, what's happening?!” Sam responded with a whine, not knowing what to say. Colby was growing just as scared, worried and angry with himself for not turning the car around. “Sam, answer me!”

“Go…” Sam's voice was hushed, but it was heard. The shadow of a man, the demon before him, ceased the screaming and the laughing, and as the silence picked and scratched at Sam's skin, he wished for it back. 

The silence was the worst of it all.

It only took a second before the figure was running, too fast to calculate, too fast to out run. “Go!” Sam screamed, doing only what he felt best. He shoved Colby away, covering his head and squeezing his eyes letting himself fall victim to the demented thing. Tears escaped him, staining his cheeks as the wind brushed his hair, waiting for what was to happen. 

Nothing. Then, in the midst of calm, “Samuel…”

His eyes shot open, staring up, but he saw nothing in his path. It was just gone, like it had never even been there in the first place. His hands fall to his sides as he looks around, confused and unsure of himself. He tries to think of where it could’ve gone, who it could’ve hurt. Who it could’ve hurt-

“Colby-” He spoke fast, turning to see Colby standing, staring at him like he had lost his mind.

“Sam, what the actual fuck is going on?!” Colby demanded.

Episode.

Sam looked at the Ovlius, shoulders shaking, disbelief on his face. His eyes watered and he shook his head, walking fast towards Colby and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He gripped at the sweatshirt he wore, feeling Colby stumble before hesitantly holding him back. Sam said nothing, burying his head in the crook of Colby's neck as he breathed him in. It felt like home, serenity . He wanted to sink into it, but he didn’t want to do it here. He didn’t want to do anything here. 

“I wanna go home.” He pleaded through a cracking voice and Colby nodded.

“Okay, we’re leaving. We are leaving right now.”

Sam sniffled, feeling a sudden pain in the bridge of his nose and something fall to his chin. He pulled away, reaching a hand up to feel it wet amongst the pads of his fingers. He pulled it back, blood staining them and dripping to the floor. It confused him, but he didn’t have time to think on it as his vision narrowed, “Uh, C-Colby…”

“Woah-” Colby commented, moving quickly as he noticed Sam starting to falter, eyes fluttering. He gripped at his shoulders, holding him close as they moved to the ground. Sam's body was hot, almost burning him with every touch. He had been so cold just a moment before, how could it have changed so suddenly? “Sam!”

“It’s so hot…” He mumbled, hand reaching for his forehead as he wiped away the sweat and leaving a trail of red behind. He started to laugh, eyes unfocused as he spoke, “Feels like ‘m melting.” It was slurred, whining at the pressure building in his neck, like fingers pushing against him.

Colby sucked in a breath, moving him to lean up against the wall, hands feeling his face, “Alright, man, just keep your eyes open for me. I’m gonna grab you some water, okay?”

“Not tired, just weak…” Sam commented, smacking his lips together, “Strange.”

“Yup, yeah, definitely strange.” Colby agreed, standing to his feet. He ran around the kitchen, opening cabinet doors and slamming them again until he finally found some cups. He grabbed one quickly, turning on the sink and filling it to the brim with cold water. When he ran back, Sam had his knees to his chest, hand gripping the EMF—Colby had forgotten he even had it—as he stared at it like he was waiting for something. 

Colby shook off the feeling dread, kneeling down in front of him and handing over the water, “I want you to drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay, mom, whatever you say.” Sam slurred as he rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He drank it in seconds, almost forgetting to breathe. He pulled the cup away, gasping the air back into his lungs as he handed it back over to Colby. He groaned as he felt his body slowly start to cool down. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but he knew it wasn’t good. He knew he was being watched, knew it wasn’t safe to be here—it never had been in the first place. He knew that things weren’t okay and, because of how stubborn he was, Colby was now dealing with his mistakes. He had to make it right, so he stood to his feet—Colby following to make sure he didn’t fall—and wiped away the rest of the blood that fell from his nose. 

“Can we leave now?” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement. He was leaving and he’d drag Colby out by the hair if he needed too. 

“Yeah, Sam, let me pack up and we’ll get out of here.”

Out.

They both stared at the counter and Sam gripped at Colby's shirt, “Move quickly.”

Chapter Text

1:56am

Heavy breath and thick air clogged his lungs, but he found a way to push through it anyway. He tried to keep himself alive, awake, but it was hard to do. Tunnel vision had him weak, frail as he leaned against the wall and watched as Colby picked up the broken pieces of plastic that popped and cracked away from the REM Pod. There wasn’t much left to clean up, and Sam was grateful for it. He wanted out, and he wanted it now, but he didn’t want to scare Colby any more than he had, so he forced himself to be patient. A pain that worked itself until he was twitching, biting his tongue so he didn’t scream at him to move faster. He could’ve helped, but when he had tried, Colby yelled at him to wait by the wall and lean against it in case he fainted. He was worried, and Sam couldn’t say he blamed him.

His sweaty hand rubbed against his forehead, smacking his chapped lips together and blinking slowly with soft whines of pain that went unheard. The blood that came from his nose had dried, itching above his lip and cracking at his forehead, but he made no movement to rub it away. His thumb circled around the EMF that was still gripped in his hand, knees wobbling and head reeling. He felt wrong . He didn’t feel sick and he didn’t feel tired, he just felt wrong. He wanted to curl up in a ball in surrender to whatever devilish being roomed through the halls of this house, begging for the torment to be over. He hadn’t been here long, but it felt like he had been trapped in the walls for a lifetime, it was enough to make a man go mad.

Detached. What had that even meant? He knew he fit in that profile, but he didn’t know why and he tried not to care, but truthfully, it was all he cared about. He felt fine up until they crossed the borders of Virginia, dread rising up his stomach the moment he stepped foot into the hotel and nauseous when they were driving closer to this house. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t calm the vibrations buzzing around in his brain, something that was so loud and hurt his ears until they rang. He never meant to be detached, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Colby had noticed it. He wanted to ask, but he also didn’t want to hear about it.

He made mistakes, he screwed up and he brought Colby to a place with things they couldn’t handle. He had gone too far, pushing his friend to agree to this in the first place. It wasn’t fair, and it broke the deal they had made when they started this. At any time, they could say no to a place that seemed too much and the other had to nod along, but this time, Sam didn’t. He said he’d go alone if he had too, determined—he wasn’t so sure why—, and Colby didn’t want him to go off and on his own. He can’t remember why he had wanted to be here so bad in the first place, but that didn’t matter anymore.

Blue.
Soft waters that brushed against his ankles, sinking him into a place of comfort when he looked at his friend. They were going to get out of here and it was going to be fine. The fear wasn’t gone, but it was muffled and masked by the thought of getting out. He was almost free, and by this time tomorrow night, he’d be sleeping in his own bed with dreams that wouldn’t stick to him throughout the hours—something forgettable and unimportant, just as they were a week before. He was going to get Colby out of here, even if he didn’t understand the situation at hand.

Green.
He wondered if he’d ever truly rid of the nightmares. Maybe they’d drift away one day, but how could he forget the running? And if he couldn’t, would they drive him as mad as Mary once felt? He didn’t want to turn into what everyone had once thought she was, and he’d be damned before he let her dignity be scrapped away any longer. 

Yellow.
But how could he ever prevent that? And how could he forget every small detail that was shoved down his throat? The awful screams from the ghost of who his friend once was? How could he forget the whistling and the laughter? The weeds that bit and the flowers that wilted? How could he forget the feeling of being chased whilst being forced to leave his life behind him? The feeling of his bone snapping in two, making him surrender? How could he truly move on from something he didn’t stay long enough for to gain answers? Did that make him a coward?

Orange.
A coward didn’t sound so awful as he looked down at the EMF in his hand, only now noticing the beeping, finally blinking his eyes. It flickered away from yellow, shining the orange brightly in his face. Colby turned—only just now hearing it as well—and tried asking him what was going on, but it never registered with Sam as he stared. He was stuck in a trance—this stupid dance all over again. He stared at the dark that circled his hand and the equipment he grasped at. It lingered, sticking to him with black veins that spread over and tickled him. It was glued to his palm, blinking and screaming louder than Colby was speaking. It was a soft laugh that echoed through the house this time, but it didn’t make him feel any better as the dark surrounding his hand shifted to claws digging into the equipment. 

Red.
Sam knew it wasn’t good, knew he wasn’t going to make it out of this one untouched. The skin on his thumb ripped and blood beaded down, a dark claw sticking to the bone. He gasped, but felt he couldn’t pull away. It hurt his fingers, his hand, his arm, and soon, his whole body. He wanted it to end, wanted to rip the pain out with a knife, but it felt hypnotized by the sting. It wasn’t until he could hear the sizzle erupting from his palm, steam flowing away as the EMF burned his hand was he able to react. 

He yelped, letting go of the equipment as he tried to shake out the burn, the cool air brushing it away as the hair on his arm started to sizzle. He watched the pieces shatter, stepping away from it quickly, stumbling until he had fallen on his ass. His head knocked back on the wall, a sharp pain—sharper than it should’ve been. His body felt weird, his eyelids heavy, bones weak.

“Sam!” He lazily looked up at Colby, seeing him in doubles and groaning as he shook his head, trying to focus. He held his hand, trying to think of a way to describe it all. The burn, the feeling, the detachment.

“C-Colby, we can’t be here.” He mumbled a whisper, kicking his feet as he scrambled to stand, “W-We need to get out now!”

“Woah, okay! Okay, man, take it easy.” Colby reached for him as he started to lean, holding his arms with his fingers gripping his elbows.

“No, I-I can’t! Th-This isn’t… We can’t be here, we never should’ve… Colby, I’m s-so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay! Sam, it’s okay!” Colby rushed out, unsure how else he was meant to respond, watching as Sam's lip quivered, practically falling apart with his head held down and blinking away the tears, “Sammy, you have to tell me what the hell is going on.”

The blonde hummed, hands gripped at Colby's shoulders, “Get me out of here and I’ll tell you.”

“I-I… Fucking damnit, alright! I hate it when you do this shit.” Sam chuckled at that, resting his head on Colby's chest and feeling the vibrations of Colby doing the same. 

“But you love what I always have to say.” 

“Love it more when you're fully alive and well.” Colby's arms squeezed around him, holding him close and safe.

Sam lifted his shaking hand, examining it before showing it to Colby, “Still alive.”

“But not exactly well.” Colby sighed, moving to hold Sam as he put the bag full of equipment on his shoulder, holding the strap and leading Sam through the kitchen. 

He was stumbling over his own feet, chest rising and falling harshly as he walked, “Dude, you gotta move faster, I’m gonna pass out.” He said it in a joking manner, but he meant it whole heartedly, ready to collapse at any moment.

“I know, man, I know. I’m going as fast as I can.” Colby's tone was serious, focused, trying to get them out. His fingers tapped against Sam's side, nail scratching on the fabric of his t-shirt. The blonde was stiff, shoulders tense and eyes focused on the walls around them. Paranoid. Colby hated it when he was paranoid.

As they made their way through the dining room, entering the hall and facing towards the living room, Sam stopped. His breath hitched high, a shudder rushing through his body as he winced at nothing. Nothing to Colby, everything to Sam. The moans that bounced off the walls, whispers in southern drawls, warnings he couldn’t quite pick up. It was so sudden when it screamed, something so inhuman, dragging on longer than it should. It roared through the house, never ending and demanding. 

His hands were pulled up to his ears, clamping over them tightly as his knees buckled from under him. Colby didn’t have the time nor the strength to prevent him from hitting the ground. He just slipped through his fingers, head held down as he squeezed at his ears and rocked himself back and forth like a small child. 

And there Colby was, left fully unaware of the situation, panicked and frustrated that Sam wouldn’t just spit it out. He didn’t want to push, but he was starting to think he didn’t have much of a choice, “Sam, what is going on?!”

Colby kneeled to the ground when he whined, fingers gripping at his hair, “Stop, stop it, stop… please make it stop… Make it stop!”

Colby didn’t know what to do, so he did what he knew best. He lunged forwards, arms around the boy as he held him close, protecting him from what he couldn’t see. He tucked Sam's head away against his chest, brushing his fingers through his hair as he spoke softly, encouraging words to not only Sam, but to himself, “I got you, Sammy, I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna get to you while I’m here, okay? I’ll be your shield and I ain’t going anywhere.”

“It’s so loud…” Sam whispered, “Why… How can you not hear it?”

“I don’t know.” Colby mumbled, biting at his lip, “But I do know that we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

“Please, Colby, tell me you hear the screaming… Tell me you hear it echoing from the walls! I-I need to know I’m not losing my mind, I-I-” Sam choked on a sob, a hand moving to grip at Colby's shirt as the other covered his mouth

“I… I’m sorry, Sam… I just- I don’t.”

“No… No, you have to hear it.” He pulls away, eye twitching as the moans that echoed from the walls started to drain away, slowly becoming nothing but thin air, “It can’t be this fucking loud without you hearing it, so stop fucking lying to me! Tell me you hear it already! Stop messing with me, it isn’t funny!”

“Sam-”

“Don’t even try and deny it!” Sam stood, wavering on his feet, but pushing away the help that Colby tried to offer, “Just quit it with the jokes and the damn pranks!”

“I’m not pranking you!” Colby's voice echoed and the screams finally came to a halt, “Why the hell would I do that?!”

Sam huffed, hands running through his hair, “You- You have to be! This-”

“Sam,” Colby put his hands on the blonde's shoulders, staring him in the eyes, “I swear to you, I’m not messing with you.”

He didn’t want to believe him, he wanted to believe that none of this was real and it was all just a joke. The story was made up, George was an old friend of Colby's that he didn’t know of, it’s just one of those stupid prank videos they used to do all the time. And yeah, they promised to quit those and leave it alone, but maybe Colby just wanted one more good laugh. That's all this was, a good laugh , it had to be. But, when he looked into his eyes, he knew it wasn’t any of that. 

“Then why couldn’t you hear it?!” He chuckled, a few more stray tears sprinkling down his cheeks as he wiped them away, “I feel like I’m losing my mind…”

Colby didn’t know how to respond, he didn’t know how to make it better. He was at a loss and he hated it, “Sam, dude, you gotta tell me what's going on.”

His words flicked a switch with him, a burning frustration, a need to prove it, “No… No, you’re gonna hear what I hear!” He backed away, turning in a split second and getting ready to run through the hall and up the stairs. He was ready to follow the call, to see who could be screaming, to show he wasn't losing his mind. But before he could make a break for it, Colby gripped at his wrist.

“You promised me you wouldn’t run off!”

Sam turned to him, face red and brows furrowed, “Someone was screaming and I’m gonna prove it!”

“Prove it to who?! When did I ever say I didn’t fucking believe you?!” 

“Well, why would you?!” Sam pushed at him, shaking hands shoving him back, “Who the hell would believe this shit?! I’m hearing things that you can’t, is that not weird?!”

“Yes, it’s weird, I never denied it’s not! Why do you think I’ve been trying to get you out of here?! Clearly this shit is trying to attach itself to you and I’m not about to let that happen!”

Sam's breath was heavy, head twitched at every soft whisper that brushed past his ear, “You… You don’t think I’m losing it?”

“Holy shit…” Colby sighed, rubbing his face as he tried to keep his voice calm and steady, “No, Sam, I don’t. But I think that both of us will if we don’t get out of here.”

“I-I…” Sam swallowed, nodding as he clenched his hands, unclenching them again, “Y-Yeah… I… I’m sorry.”

Colby smiled, “We can talk about it in the car, but it’s okay.”

“It’s not, though, I shouldn’t have pushed you a-and screamed at you like that.”

Colby hummed, hand resting on the blondes back and leading him out of the dining room, “Don’t beat yourself up over it, man, it’s been a stressful night.”

“I can’t help it.” Sam muttered, crossing his arms. There was a faint whistle, but he learned to ignore it—it was better when he did.

“I know.” They softly laughed as Colby reached for the doorknob. When it swings open, it creaks on the rusted hinges and slams against the outside wall. The taller wastes no time walking out, breathing in the fresh air. He turns to Sam, holding out his hand with a smile, “Come on, lets get out of here.” 

His legs wobbled like jelly, his strength deteriorating the closer they got to the door. It felt wrong to be here, but it felt worse leaving. And when Sam reaches his hand out the door, it burns all the same as it had before. It rushes through his body, a sharp pain poking at his chest, squeezing his lungs, stabbing his heart. He gasps at the pain, feeling his skin bubble as he pulls away, arms around his torso. It's a hot flash igniting through him, making him want to curl into a ball on the floor. 

“Sam!”

“I-It hurts!” He screams, knees giving in beneath him, but before he could hit the ground, he felt his legs lift, a force pushing him back through the air. A lighting speed, a flash of white as he hits the wall at the end of the hall. His head knocked against the wall, Colby shouting for him, but he couldn’t register the words. Something snapped, a nerve severed through his leg as he began to feel numb. Blood trickled down from his nose, he could feel the tears spilling from his eye, the red that blurred his vision made him wonder if that’s truly what it was. His neck felt heavy and his head hung low, hitting the floor first as the rest of his body followed. 

When had he even gotten to the ground? Who was screaming for him? Something different then it was before, not the southern drawls or the demented cheers, something familiar. He tries to look up, tries to see who it could be, but he feels so tired. He can’t help the weighted feeling in his eyes, the way his shoulders slouch. He groaned, wincing as the front door slammed shut, someone banging against it. Colby. That's who it had to be. At least he was out of the house, away from the danger, Sam could live with this pain knowing that he was okay. 

And, oh, the floor had never felt so comfortable, dipping like a mattress as his body grew heavy, sinking below the floorboards. He just lets the world go dark, a swirl and a spin, making him feel dizzy as he sinks deep in the back of his room. There's a voice, a last note before he leaves, so clear and deep, rough and inhuman, “I thought you liked playing with the afterlife, Samuel?”

Chapter Text

2:20am

Not a sound could be heard for miles, no crickets to chirp or birds to sing—nothing dared to even try. There wasn’t a soul to be found in the area, all air frozen, no breeze to brush on through. Shadows circled around the house with something much darker lurking inside, a torn face brought up from the pits of hell. 

Light rain fell, padding against the broken roof of the porch, dripping in through the cracks and tapping at Colby’s scalp. Chills ran up and down his arms, but he wasn’t cold. No, he was afraid. A fear he had never felt before, one that made him sick to his stomach, throat tight and firing up to gloss his eyes. It’s something that made his emotions twist, anger blinding him and anxious bubbles popping in his brain. 

His feet slid on the wooden floors, shoving his shoulder against the front door with everything he had for the seventh time, “Come on you fucking piece of shit, open!” All his frustration he had conjured up throughout the night was coming out in brute force, and yet, it didn’t work. No matter how hard he pushed, no matter how much he prayed, it wouldn’t budge even an inch. His hand stayed gripped on the knob, jiggling it, pushing and pulling, twisting it so hard he thought it may break the lock. Nothing he did was working, and as the metal in his hand began to burn—sizzling his skin and frying at the hair on his arms—, he had no choice but to pull away. He stumbled back, looking down as his hand turned red, glowing from the heat, “What the fuck…?”

He groaned, shaking his head with clenched teeth. He wanted to break something, he wanted to beat his annoyance away until he could finally breathe again, but there wasn’t any time. He stepped to the side, inching closer until his nose was pressed against the glass of the window, hands cupped over his squinted eyes to help him see through it better as he searched for his friend. And there he was, lying face down on the floor, shattered pieces from the mirror he had crashed into surrounding him. There was a gash on his forehead, blood spilling over and on the wood, coating his hair. His eyes were closed and his cheek was squished on the floor, unmoving, maybe even unresponsive. Streaks of red stained his face like tears, starting to dry out and crack. His body laid heavy and still, Colby wasn’t even sure if he was breathing anymore, and that only made him more determined to get inside quicker.

“Fuckin’- I knew this shit was a bad idea! God damnit… He better thank the shit out of me when I get him out of here, Fuckin’ hell…” He backed away from the glass, hand in his hair, gripping as he tried to keep himself calm. 

He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do, wasn’t sure how he was meant to get inside. His first thought was to contact 911, but what would he even say? How would they believe him about the situation? They’d surely call him crazy, hang up on him despite the desperate need for help. And if he were to lie, what would even be believable? He could call George, ask him for his help. He’d know about the situation, he knew the lore of the house better than they did, maybe he’d know how to help. Colby rushed down the steps of the porch, jumped over the last one and pulled his phone out from his pocket, typing in the number George had given him. 

It rang for a moment, then a moment more before he received the voice mail, “Hello, this is George Berkeley, I can’t come to the phone right now so please leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

When it beeped, Colby began to stutter through the phone, “S-Sir, it’s Colby, Colby Brock! We, uhm, we need help and we need it fast! Sam, he… I don’t even know! I’m locked out and s-something’s inside! It… It got him… Please get here, I’m practically on my knees begging. I… Just call me back when you get this, okay? B-Bye.” He shakingly pulled the phone away, hanging up with a knot in his throat. 

He swallowed down his cries and blinked away the tears as he looked up to the sky. There was no light pollution out here, but there were no stars either, just an empty sky filled with black. It taunted him, a dimly lit void with nothing to join in the mix. It made him feel so helpless, so alone. He had no one all over again. His best friend, his life, was trapped in a house with a monster that cursed so many lives. He didn’t even know what it was, Sam wouldn’t explain it to him. 

He shook his head, breathing in deeply as he sorted through his thoughts. He needed to take things one step at a time, work through what he knew and what he could do. He closed his eyes, walking through the house in his mind. The wooden floors still creaked in his head, and he could feel the cold prick at his skin. Through the hall and towards the dining room, an entrance that was sculpted in white led him into the kitchen. He searched through closed lids, trying to remember what was there: The counter tops, cupboards and a sink, a nice blue matt that sat in front of the back door-

“Shit, the backdoor-” It slipped through his mouth, eyes opening wide as he stumbled through the grass, the mud making him slide slightly. He rounded the house, skipping up the concrete steps. He gripped at the knob and tried twisting it, only to find it too was locked. He groaned, backing up as he kicked at the door in frustration, “Mother fucker! Why! Just why! Oh my God!” He knocked his fists against his head, moving them to rub his face, fully annoyed and panicked. 

He scanned through the back wall of the house, pausing when he saw a window close to the ground, shattered, but the glass had been cleaned away. His shoulders slumped, slight relief coursing through his mind as he rushed towards it. His fingers curled as his hands gripped at the seal, jumping on his heel as he readied himself. He grunted, lifting himself up and swinging his leg over, foot knocking against the wall and causing him to fall forward. 

He landed hard in the tub of the bathroom, his shoulder sliding on the porcelain white, but he was quick to recover. He stood, hands shaking and moving to exit the bathroom. He pauses at a crash above him, jerking away with a heavy breath. He didn’t know what it could be, but it wasn’t about to take any chances. He stumbled his way to the toilet, grabbing hold of a plunger beside it. He held it over his shoulder, ready to swing as he finally left the bathroom.

Walking in the kitchen again felt wrong, colder as the air stilled. He walked through slowly, leaving the dining room and turning to the hall. When he looked at where he knew Sam was supposed to be, there was nothing but shards of glass, a trail of blood leading up the stairs and a deathly silence. He swallows, opening and closing his lips before forcing himself to speak, “S-Sam?” 

Nothing but the silence.
A beating heart that shatters against his ribs.
Helpless calls and lost faith.

“Sam?” He tries again, but is met with the same replay of silence that was drawn out by the dark. A small curse falls loosely from behind his teeth, gripping at his weapon of choice before he slowly follows the trail up the stairs.

Each step seemed to creak louder than the last, making the sweat drip down from Colby's forehead. His arms felt weak, heart hammering in his chest the closer he got to the top. He wanted to turn and run for the hills, but he’d never be able to live with himself if he left Sam behind. He’d never be who he once was if he lost him. He’d be a shell, hollow and quiet. Sam was his life, he couldn’t imagine living without him—he didn’t want to.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the trial took a turn, leading him to the master bedroom. The closer he got, the colder the house turned, his breath blown in frozen air before his face. His nerves wanted to pull him away, but his heart kept him going. 

The door was cracked open, so he held his breath as he kicked it lightly, watching it slowly swing open. When he enters, he’s ready to swing, but instead of someone or something standing, ready for a fight, he’s met with Sam laying facedown on the floor. Blood leaked from his nose and head, dripping from his closed eyes. Something was falling from his mouth, black and thick, nothing Colby had ever seen before. But it didn’t matter to him, his grip growing loose as the plunger clattered to the floor. He rushed forward, hands reaching out as his eyes glossed over, “Sam!”

~>X<~

2:20am

A gasp escapes from behind his teeth, sucking in a breath he had feared of losing. He sat up quickly, knees bending up slightly and hands clenching. He was surrounded by the darkness, listening as his own breaths echoed around him. All he knows is that he’s cold, a chill rising up his spine, bones shaking within his skin as he hugs himself tightly. His hair was soaked, dripping red down to his arms, staining his jeans, soaking in the puddle he once laid in. He was drenched like a rat, shivering and perplexed. There was nothing, no speck of light, not a soul to keep him company, no memory of how he had gotten here—what even was here? His mind was racing, trying to remember, any spark of a reason had only loose grips, slipping away from his shaking hands. 

He remembers the house. He remembers how it creaks in the wind and the taps on the walls. He remembers the shadows that conjured into something more and the fear it caused him. He remembers the burning, the screaming, the whistling. Oh, and how he remembered Colby. His face, his worry, his demands. He should’ve done something more to calm his nerves, he should’ve explained what he felt, what he saw, what he heard. He had left him in the dark, and now, Sam was lost and he wasn’t sure Colby even knew. 

There wasn’t anything else to remember, and the harder he tried, the worse the pounding against his skull got. It was spinning and screaming, rattling his bones. It burned, melting skin and sizzling hair, and God he prayed it would end. He reached his hand up, holding his forehead tightly, rubbing it and groaning out into the abyss as it echoed back to him. It was a pain he had never felt before, something that dug into his brain and ate away like maggots, pulling the wires and snapping them. It made him want to curl up and sob, but his confusion as to why he was here, how he had gotten to this place was enough to keep him from doing so.

Hesitantly, slowly, sluggishly, he stood, knees weak and arms shaking, stumbling just a bit as he tried to straighten himself. He swallowed thickly as he looked around, the sticky red pulling at his fingers. Everything sat uncomfortably, nothing felt right. It was all wrong. He took a step, left leg in front, but as his foot met with the ground again, a sting rose through him. His balance was off and he struggled to stay standing, but he managed. He felt no such pain in his other leg, but he wasn’t so sure if he could consider what he felt as pain. It was more of nothing, something that turned numb, something that was hard to control, hard to move.

He limped, jumping through the puddle of blood as he tried to understand where he was, why he was here, where Colby had gone. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, throat dry and words cracking, his sentence fading. Only a squeak was able to pass his teeth before it crumbled. He swallowed and cleared his throat—slightly embarrassed—, trying again with a stronger force, “Colby?”

“Always calling to the one who doubts you…”

He jolted, turning to face the voice, but found nothing in front of him, “Wh-Who’s there…?”

“You know who I am…” It was rough, something that spoke with a growl in each word, something so inhuman , “I know who you are… Samuel…”

He felt his breath freeze, heart pounding through chest as his shoulders began to shake. That voice, the way it spoke his name, the soothing call with a demand so faint in the background, he knew, “No…”

“I’ve been waiting all night for this… I was hoping our game of cat and mouse would last just a little longer. It’s always so fun, watching you try to beat what you know you can’t, but you were so determined to leave… Mary never left me, so why would you?” The voice shifted around him, like it was circling him with steps to follow in its place, so he squeezed himself tighter.

“M-Mary…? I-I was right? It wasn’t an episode?”

“I like you, Samuel. The smart ones always have my favor.” The steps stopped just in front of him, and he could finally see the eyes piercing back at him, bright, yellow with red that swirled in through the thin pupil, “It usually leaves them detached from the living, making you more accessible. Making this more fun.”

Sam's breath shook, he wanted to run, but he knew his legs would never take him far, “I-I… What are you…?”

“The horror of man, conjured to form deals, the reason why people fear the dark… Isn’t it funny, Sammy? How people claim to ‘fear the dark’, but what they really mean is that they fear what haunts them from inside, such liars, they are. Insects in the dirt, maggots eating at the flesh of a new born, bastards that curse your lives. They're all the same…”

“Don’t call me Sammy.” Sam's voice was as stern as he could muster, still finding a way to waver slightly, vomit standing still in the back of his throat, “You don’t have that right.” He wanted to be brave, he wanted to stand firm, but he was never as such without Colby. That man was his rock, his shelter from the rain and his lungs when he felt like he was drowning. Without him, bravery wasn’t his greatest strength. 

“Do I scare you, Sammy?” Sam felt himself gag, hand moving to his mouth as he hunched over. “Do I disgust you?” It was spoken with anger, eyes glowing brighter, it’s form becoming more visible within the shadows. 

He couldn’t hold it back any longer, falling to his knees, palms laid flat on the ground as he let his contents fall. It wasn’t what he knew was supposed to spill from behind his teeth. It was all black with a mix of red, it seemed never ending, running like a water fall. He choked, coughing and gagging more at the bitter taste. It was all rushing, running out of him like it had been trapped for years. And then, it finally stopped. It was only drips of black and spit, mouth stuck open like he couldn’t close it. 

Then, like a razor, something scraped against his throat.

“Do you feel it, Sammy? The thorns that stab at your airways?” Sam tried to gasp, but it only caused him more pain. His hand reached up, holding at the base of his throat, heaving and silently begging it would go, “It chokes and pulls you down, keeps you locked, keeps you quiet.”  Sam fell to his elbow, forehead resting on the ground, as his face turned red. “This is only a fraction of how it feels, Sammy. Hell kills you from the inside out, it rips you apart and forces you silent. This house? Being trapped for years with nobody to possess? It almost feels worse. It can drive one mad. Alone, it makes one angry. Do you feel angry, Sammy?”

He coughed, spikes falling into the mix, falling from vines that sprouted thrones, pulling from his throat, sticking between teeth and lunging into his gums. More and more, pulling like rope as it ripped him apart, pedals of wilted sunflowers and withered roses following soon after. It lasted for so long, tears spilling over as he pushed it out of him. 

“Answer me!” 

Sam screamed, the end of the rope falling before him as he heaved his breaths. His vision was blurred, a dizzy feeling in his head as he lifted his forehead. Everything hurt, pain seeped into his veins, fear hitting like a run away train. He studied what had fallen before him, the way the pedals ripped and tore, how it crunches when his fingers twitch against it. It was like it belonged to the weeds under a blanket sky of clouds and grey.

Wilted sunflowers.
Withered roses.
A never ending run from death.

Something clicked in his head and he looked up to meet those damned eyes, “I-It… It was you, wasn’t it?” He mumbled, the air was murky, foggy and humid, making sweat drip down his neck and cling to his clothes, something he wanted to wash away. “You were the one giving me those nightmares…” A sinister call in the form of a weak whistle following.

“I don’t give out warning signs, Samuel.” It scoffed, growing closer and Sam couldn't move away, no matter how hard he tried, his hope was lost in his cries, awaiting the fate life had in store for him, “Such a smart man you are, but you are just that, man. Bound to grow stupid, ignore the signs of your savior. Not all nightmares are meant to only scare you.”

When it stopped moving, it stood just before him, staring down with a sickening smile, something that could make Sam throw up again. It didn’t say anything more, and Sam didn’t dare ask any more questions. He watched as its lips slowly fell, sinking together and letting out a faint whistle that echoed through the walls. Sam could only cry, sitting on his knees as he listened, not daring to make it stop. 

“S-Sam?” It was so faint, and he almost missed it. His head turned sharply, knowing the voice, wanting to hear it again, but the whistle was only growing louder.

Nothing but the silence.
A beating heart that shatters against his ribs.
Helpless calls and lost faith.

“Sam?” It speaks again, and he knows what he’s heard.

He struggles to his feet, left leg limp and bent as he stands, arms wrapped around his torso he listens, trying to drown out the whistles. He searches through the dark, tries to understand it, wanting to hear the voice again. He steps forward and the whistle goes sharp, higher and piercing before it stops entirely. He looks behind him, but it’s gone. No shadow, no eyes and no sickening smile. 

He stumbles slightly, afraid but hopeful. He looks at the source of where his name had been called and starts his way. Limping slowly, gaining speed, hopping and hoping he could make it. He just wants to hear Colby's voice again, even if it’s far from him, even if it’s in phrases he doesn’t understand, he just needs to hear it. 

He’s stopped and nearly knocked to his ass by a force, something that shoves him away. His hands press against it, trying to push, but it never gives way. He hears a creak, like a door had opened and he listens intently. Something drops to the floor and he hears Colby speak again, “Sam!”

It’s clearer this time, close, relieved. Sam presses his hands on the force, tears falling as he tries to reach him. He opens his mouth and tries to call, “Col-”

A hand falls over his mouth, nails digging into his cheeks as he’s forced into the chest of the beast he’s trapped with. He tries to fight, to speak again, but there isn’t anything he can do against it. He tries to scream, but it grows faint, so he kicks. He kept his eyes shut, squeezing them with clenched teeth and helpless prayers.

“Shh, Sammy, you’re waking up now…”

He watches as a light shines in front of him, blurry as it slowly comes to focus. And there, Colby sits on his knees, shaking him awake. He can feel the pressure, he can feel his body rock, but he is only an observer. He can’t move his limbs, not really anyway. 

And suddenly, he understands.

Chapter Text

2:43am

Groggy eyes blinked slowly, half lidded and dull, lifeless as they searched the room. Callused fingers felt around the wooden floors, moving gently as it tapped them. It took a breath, shaky and new, like it had never breathed in the air before. His ears rang and his brain was fuzzy, spinning with not a hint of control as it gathered it up from him. Working through joints weighed heavy, slowly moving to sit up, blankly staring out to the wall. It smacked his lips together and flexed his fingers, trying to gather the new senses. There was a muffled screaming in his head, made from him, because no, this wasn’t really Sam. It smiled with his lips and looked through his eyes, but it wasn’t him.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, his cold, cold, shoulder. It looked, watching Colby’s expression, studying it for the time it’d have to use the same. The worry, the relief, the crease in his brows and the gloss of his eyes. It didn’t give him much of a reaction back, used to keeping it straight and numb or horrifying and disgusting. The need to scare, the need to frighten, but need for faulty trust overshadowing it all for the time being. 

The blank face Colby received wasn’t enough, he needed more than a dead look and rattling silence, “S-Sam?” The voice cracks, confused and uneased. It needed to change that, needed to soothe the helpless fear that grew and gain control, gain trust.

It turned and tilted the head it captured, wide and dull eyes looking at him, a smile that stretched across the face, bearing teeth and slightly apart, “Colby…” It was whispered, voice dry and weakened. Colby inched back, hands pulling away from Sam’s shoulder as he swallowed, sweat dripping down his neck. It caught on to this quickly, loosening the smile, blinking rapidly as it kept the head down. Clearing the dried out throat, it tried again, calming the voice and sounding more human, “C-Colby… My head…” It reached up to hold Sam's head, squeezing the eyes as the palm felt sticky, but not of sweat, no, something dyed in red and flowing from the split gash.

It took notice of the way Colby loosened up, relaxing himself and letting go of the air he trapped in his throat. He cracked, a run away tear falling down his cheek. He wrapped Sam's body in a hug, and it took everything for the damned beast not to gag and pull away, “Jesus, Sam, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Yeah… scared…” There was a hint of humor laced in its voice, biting down the urge to laugh at what it’s created. It enjoyed this, loving the scent of fear that mixes in with sweat and tears, feeling it like a drug, allowing it, no, him to grow high. He was new, he was reborn in a body of the weak, a body of a mortal that had lost his way. A damned human that was detached as he searched for something that was right in front of him. It was now him, it was now human, and it was now in control. This was his now, he owned it all, and he could finally relish in it. He cleared his throat, shaking his head with a twitch in his eye, “I’m okay, Colby.” It was cold and hollow, still working through the emotions he struggled forcing, trying to mimic what he knew.

Colby leaned away, hands loose on his shoulders as he watched him, brow raised, “Are… Are you okay? You sound different…”

He pulled away his hand, ready to defend himself before seeing the blood that had puddled in his hand. He stared down at it, drinking in the smell, craving for more, but holding himself back as he spoke, “Just a bit of shock…”

Colby hummed, reaching a hand up to the wound, pressing down on it to help stop the bleeding, knowing it was going to need stitches. Sam didn’t hiss or flinch away, he just stared at his hand like he was stuck in a trance. It unnerved him, but he figured he was tired, dizzy, nauseous, in shock. He simply needed to get out of this, and Colby could get him out. He swallowed, smacking his lips together, “We should get out of here.”

Something flashed in Sam's eyes, something yellow, maybe a bit red. His face tightened and his fist clenched, looking up at Colby, “No!”

“Wh- Sam?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

He swallowed, free hand tapping around the wooden floor, fingers grazing the handle of the plunger he had brought up with him. He was cautious, untrusting, and he hated it. He wanted to believe nothing was wrong, but he simply couldn’t, “S-Sam, your head looks all kinds of fucked. I really think we should go get it checked, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, eyes flicking through the dark, almost looking black. His skin was a sickly pale as the veins building darkened the blue, knowing he had lost the game he was trying to keep up, “He only wished to prove it, Colby…”

Colby gripped at the plunger's handle, pulling away with a hardened look, jaw set as he groaned, swinging it to the wound on Sam's head. It was a hard hit—standing as he did so—and he watched as he fell to the ground with a groan. He began backing away, shaking hands letting his weapon of choice clatter to the ground. This thing, this demented spirit heaved, growling his such an inhuman way. Then, there was a scream, a blood curdling scream, high pitched and something that had shattered the glass of the mirror on the desk. It wasn't created by pain from the hit, but one of a battle cry as he readied himself to fight. 

He stood to his feet, ankles bending and shoulders cracking as black drool dripped away from his teeth. There’s something in the midst of the cries, something human, a call for help that he recognized, a brother he cherished. There was a hint of another voice wrapped in southern drawls, high pitched and broken. It only made the situation all the more confusing, and oh, how he wanted to help, but as the beast lunged his way, he knew he couldn’t do so unprepared.

He dodged him quickly, shoulder running into the opened door before he ran out of the room and stumbled down the stairs. He jumped over the last few steps, hand grabbing at the end of the railing as he shot himself through the hall. His feet barely touched the ground, the hall growing narrow in his vision. 

He tried, he really did, holding at the knob of the front door as he twisted and pulled, but the burn was still there, and still so painful. There wasn’t much of a choice but to let it go with a curse on his tongue, hands running through his hair as jolted at the walking overhead. It was toying with him, knowing he had no plan, no strategy, no escape. This was all just a game to this thing, and Colby was playing right into it.

His lip quivered, backing into the dining room until he hit the table, swallowing thickly as the hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. “F-Fuck…” It was whispered, breath heavy and clogging his throat. He looked around, quietly stepping into the kitchen, the floor shifting from the rough wood to the smooth tile. His hand touched the counter, cold and clean as the rings on his fingers clattered on it. He didn’t know where to go, how to save his friend, but he knew that it wouldn’t matter if he was dead. He searched around, eyes landing on the cabinet door sitting beside the sink. It wasn’t the best option, he knew, but it was the only one he had.

He moved with stealth, walking on the balls of his feet and trying to lighten his weight. He opened the cabinet door, freezing with a gasp when he heard the stairs creak, “Oh, Colby, I know you’re still here.”

He pursed his lips as he climbed his way in, closing the door painfully slow behind him. He heard him enter the dining room from the hall—feet tapping against the wood. He clamped his hands over his mouth as he listened to the walking that grew in closer, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes, trying to hide within the darkness, even though it was that very darkness that sought him out. 

He shook as he heard footsteps scraping against the tiles, whistling with Sam’s lips as it searched for him, praying that he could stay hidden. He tried to keep himself calm, knowing his downfall would crash down around him if he didn’t. 

He just wanted to run out and wrap his arms around his friend, drag him away from here, but he didn’t even know if Sam was still alive. Maybe he was lost, gone away to the Heavens or locked as something new to haunt this home. All he knew was there was something else within his mind, a spirit circling in his body.  He didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know how to save Sam, but he knew he had tried. 

~>X<~

3:02am

Sam's knees wobbled, hitting the ground below him with his hand on the wound of his head. He could feel it all, the pain from the hit and the burn that was quick to follow, but the thing that stood beside him, making him move—making him hunt—hadn’t felt a thing. It made him choke on a sob, a whine in his throat as he tried to swallow the rest of it down. He wanted to vomit, but he feared of what would come out if he did so again. He hated the feeling, hated how weak it made him, hated every little bit of vulnerability. 

“God, you make a terrible me!” He shouted and it echoed, but there wasn’t any response to follow, “Couldn’t even convince him for a fucking second!” He chuckled, body shaking with sweat building up as he  felt the heat begin to grow. It was slow, starting from his feet and spiking up to his calves. He didn’t understand it, didn’t know what it meant, so he tried not to think about it at all. It was hard, but he was sure he could manage, keeping his mind thinking on other things. He deflected the pain, squeezing his eyes as he thought himself in a different place. Home, serenity, a faint memory that meant nothing until now.

Sam laid back on the bluish-grey couch, head on Colby’s thigh as he tapped against the screen of his phone. Colby sat back, watching the TV, a show he didn’t have much interest in playing in front of him. His foot would bounce on the black carpet below him, chewing on his tongue before a yawn formed. Every so often, Sam chuckled, catching Colby’s attention and showing him a video. A comment would form from Colby about the bad acting in the show, or something Sam about how idiotic people on the internet can be. There wasn’t anything more to it, just silence and the comfort they gained from one another.

“You know,” Colby started with a groan as he stretched his hands above his head, “We should probably start recording soon before we both get sucked into doing nothing all day… again.”

“Noooooooooo!” Sam groaned. 

“Yes, I know, life sucks.” Colby chuckled dryly, pushing Sam's head off his thigh before standing to his feet.

The blonde whined, arms straightened out as he put his phone down, “Ugh, I don’t wanna get up!”

“Neither did I, but it’s kind of our source of income.” Colby joked and Sam pouted, sitting up and turning to face him. 

“What are we filming today?” Sam sighed, rubbing his eye as he fought away the drowsy feeling.

“Most haunted areas in Virginia.” Colby stood as he answered, flexing his fingers out slightly, “I think we said we’d let the viewers pick a spot from this video to go to next.”

Sam chuckled, folding his arms with a raised brow, “How bad can Virginia really be? It’s fucking Virginia. The state of ‘lovers’, or whatever.”

Colby shrugged, “I don’t know, I mean, D.C. kinda sucks.”

Sam shook his head with a laugh standing beside him and making his way out of the living room, “Come on, man, lets just record this video already.”

“This is how it was so easy, Sam.” His eyes shot open, breath hitching as he remembered where he was, standing in a void of darkness and surrounded by nothing, “Have you always been so absent? Simply leaving situations when they get too hard? How does Colby put up with it?”

Sam put his hands over his ears, shaking his head with watered eyes, “Shut up, shut up, shut up! Just fucking shut up!” His eyes shoot open with a gasp on his lips when he felt the back of a hand smack across his face. He fell, landing on his elbows as he watched carefully as the beast moved closer. He was frightened, kicking away with a stutter of apologies on his tongue, “I-I’m sorry… Please, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not the one to fight with, Samuel, you’ve already lost. And the more you try, the worse I can make this for you.”

Sam clenched his teeth, tears slipping away from his eyes despite his attempts to keep them away, “P-Please, I just wanna go home… just let me go home…”

It smiled, teeth bare, yellowed with a marble of brown, “Now why would I do such a thing?”

“I-I…” He stuttered, but there was nothing. Not an ounce of bravery left, a single thing to fight for, but he was scared about how the outcome would turn if he tried. 

Conjured to form deals.

His breath caught, mouth dry as his thoughts ran rampant, “Wh-What if we made a deal!” It echoed loud, a warning in his own words as he stood to his feet again—left leg wobbling with no strength within it.

“I’m listening?”

Sam sucked in a breath, knowing his fate was sealed. He would do anything he could to get the other out, and that seemed to be just fine, even if he had to be stuck in the claws of hell, “You can have me, okay? Possess me, make a fool out of me, k-kill me and pin it on suicide, I don’t care! But please, leave Colby out of it.”

The laugh from the demon was graining, tearing apart his ears as he awaited the response. It moved in closer, bones snapped against bones as it shifted from form to form, sinking to his level. There was a face visible to the eye, a hole for a mouth, sunken sockets and hollowed cheeks, neck cracking as it tilted. “Like I said, smart.”

Sam swallowed, “I-Is that a deal, then?”

“No.”

“But-”

“Not yet, anyway.” Its hands came forward, a light passing between them, a face of the boy he wished to save forming in the glow, “If you want to save him, you have to be willing to sell the one thing you don’t want to lose.”

“I-I… I don’t understand, I did-”

“I already own your soul, Sammy, even if you never meant for me to have it.” The light flickered, a quick change from expressions on Colby's face, joy, horror, something hollow and dull, dead eyes with cheeks coated in blood before it flicked back to the straightened face. Chills rushed through Sam's body, taking a step back before the warm light faded to green, “I want something else, something worse than death. I want the trust between the two of you to break. I want it shattered, I want it to be crushed with nothing left. I want him to hate you, Samuel.”

“What…?” His voice cracked, lip quivering as he forced himself to hear the demon out. 

“Let me explain it better for you, then.” The green light ignited into a fire, a wall between them, making Sam cover his face with his arm. “You are going to bet on his soul.”

“What?!” Sam's voice squeaked, gasping, “I would never-”

“Silence!” The fire came fourth, locking with chains, holding at his wrists, forcing them apart, bubbling his skin as it grew tighter with each struggle he made, “The wager I’m offering is one you must listen too, Samuel. I thought you cared for him, do you not?” The blonde only nodded, “Good. If your perfect little soldier can stay alive until the sun rises, then I’ll let you both go. But, if he leaves, that’s cheating, and that makes you my puppet forever. I won’t feed on your soul, I won’t kill you for the release you crave, even when I’ve broken you down to beg for it.”

“Y-You’re gonna hunt him like a deer…” Sam whispered and the demon smiled.

“And he’ll be sure to know you allowed me to do so. Trust me, Sammy, that’s what I want.” The fired chain dissolved, allowing the blonde to back away from it, “So? Do you want to make a deal?”

“I… I can’t let you kill him.” 

“ I will. I’ll hunt him until the ends of the earth, I’ll burn him in the pits of hell and torture him myself. But, if you take this deal, he’ll have a chance.”

“How… How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“I’m a demon built on deals, I have to keep my part. So? Will you take the deal or will you keep screaming at me like it’ll do something for you?” The demon extended his hand in the flame, waiting for him to do the same and take it.

Sam hesitated, thinking it through for a moment. Colby was his best friend, his brother, he’d do anything for him. He wanted him safe, even if it meant he wasn’t. He could handle Colby hating him if it meant he lives. But, it was Colby’s life he was messing with, not just his. He was bargaining, he was selling him out, forcing something on him he didn’t agree to. He didn’t know what was best, he didn’t know what he could do, he didn’t-

“Tick-Tock, Samuel, we don’t have all night.”

“I… Okay, fine.” He grabs at his hand, the flaming wall thinning and flying up through their hands, sparking his veins and tripping up the wires. 

“You’re smarter than Mary was, I’ll give you that, kid. But you should know, I’ve been hunting for thousands of years, it’s my second nature. You just made a deal you can’t possibly win.”

Sam’s legs trembled, looking through the flame, forcing himself to stare the demon in the eye, “You don’t know Colby like I do.”

The demon leaned in forward, face pushing through the flame, “I know he’d never leave you behind. I know he doesn't know that Mary wasn’t Mary when she murdered Anthony.  I know he doesn’t even know what or who I am. I know that he’d do anything to get you back. And, I know that I can do what I need to manipulate how he responds.”

Sam's breath hitches, grip loosening as he let go, the flame burning out. When it fades, the demon does the same, a laugh echoing around the darkness. It’s a different kind of loneliness he feels when it stops, like the demon isn’t even in his head anymore, and yet, he still can’t wake up from such a comatose state.

~>X<~

3:28am

His head knocked back against the cabinet, easing his breath as he tried to figure out a way to get him and Sam out of this. He just wanted to go home, wanted to get Sam home. Within it all, he couldn’t help but blame himself. He should’ve put his foot down, he should’ve put up a bigger fight. He just wanted to make Sam happy, but he doesn’t even think Sam was all too happy in the beginning anyway. It was all such a mess, and Colby was left to clean it up on his own. 

David.

Colby jumped at the muffled sound in his bag, hurriedly pulling off his backpack as he shushed the noises it was creating. He ripped the bag open, practically tearing the zipper as he dug through his equipment, pulling out the source of the noise with a deathly grip. The Ovilus blinked and he turned the volume down all the way, heart pounding out of chest. He put his ear to the cabinet door, swallowing thickly as he listened, but relaxed when he didn’t hear anything.

He took a breath, looking down at the screen in front of him as it blinked back at him.

Help.

“No.” Colby whispered with gritted teeth, “I don’t have time to help you, Sam needs my help, and he needs it now.”

No.
Help.
You.

“Wh-What? Help me?” Colby raised a brow, “Y-You’re gonna help me? Why…?”

Yes.
Need.

“You need to?”

Yes.

“Uh… Why?”

Because.

Colby waited for a reason, but nothing followed. He rolled his eyes, tapping his fingers against the device in his hand. He was ready to smash it at this point, annoyed with everything that had been going on that night, “How the fuck are you going to help me?”

Leave.

“You’re gonna help me leave?” Colby asked, tapping his fingers against it as he bit down on his lip, pulling at the dead skin with his teeth.

Yes.

“Okay… what about Sam?”

Gone.

Colby felt his heart stop, his world shattering around him, “N-No… He’s not, I know he’s not.”

Trapped.

“Trapped? Me or Sam?”

Sam.

Colby choked down a sob, blinking away the tears as he swallowed. He knew he had to stay strong, Sam needed that. He didn’t need him falling apart, but this was a war he wasn’t ready for, despite having fought similar battles before. This was so much bigger than him, he just wasn’t sure how he was supposed to get out of this one.

Leave.

“I can’t,” He breathed, “Sam needs me.”

Leave.
Sam.
Gone.

“I’m not leaving Sam behind!” It came out louder than he meant it, sinking into himself as he waited with a hand over his mouth. He watched the door intently, waiting for a creak, a scream, something. When he didn’t hear anything, he looked back and spoke again, quieter than before, “I’m not leaving Sam behind. I-It’s us against the world, e-even if he’s not himself. He’s still in there and I know it. I… I’d feel it if he was gone.”

Stupid.

“I don’t give a shit.” He spat, shaking his head, “Just tell me how to help him. And for the love of fuck, tell me whats going on.”

Possessed.

“Wow, thanks Sherlock.” Colby scoffed, “Got any more obvious shit to explain?”

Mary.

“Mary? Your wife?” Colby asked with a tilted head, “Was she possessed too?”

No.
Mary.
Possesses.

“Wait, she’s possessing Sam? But… I don’t understand, who’s ‘him’ then?”

Anthony.

Colby was more confused with these answers than without, “This is just creating more questions for me- I thought you said he was gone?”

Hiding.

“I… Sure, whatever, I don’t have time to understand your ghost crap, just tell me what I need to do to help Sam.”

Unsafe.
Kill.
Sunrise.
Trapped.

“Not helpful.” Colby sighed, rubbing his face, “Fuck, I need a vacation.” There was a growl beside him, it made him jolt and freeze, hands shaking as he looked around the dark, sweat dripping down his hands. He could feel the presence as the hair stood on the back of his neck, but he couldn’t see it.

Sam sold you out.

“What the-” Colby stared, unsure of how to respond to that. It had been the first time his Ovilus had spoken in a full sentence. It wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t common. But, that wasn’t what he found himself focused on, “Sam… Sam what?”

Sam sold you out.
Your soul for his.

“I- No… No, he’d never.”

He did.

Colby felt his stomach drop, drop, drop to the ground. Sam wouldn’t. Sam was his best friend, his brother, they’d do anything for each other. But… fear did things to people. It could make people agree to things they wouldn’t normally do, it could be a sense of-

Betrayal.

Colby pulled his knees up to his chest, hand on his forehead as he tried to block out the calls that told him to leave, to flee. Sam had enough going on as it is, maybe this had made him snap, maybe he had agreed to something he couldn’t fully grasp. But… Sam had been keeping things from him. He had been dismissive since they arrived to Virginia. Had he been lying to him from the start? He wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to think about it any longer. All he knew was he didn’t want to abandon the only he really had, , even if what this thing was telling him was the truth. Sam was his brother, and even if he’d sell him out, Colby couldn’t even bear the thought of ditching him in a place like this. 

He shook his head, groaning at the doubts, kicking himself for even thinking of them, “He wouldn’t… He wouldn’t.”

He would.
He did.
Leave while you can.

Colby shook his head, turning off the Ovilus, “Fuck off, David. You might be fine with abandoning your wife when she needed you the most, but I’d never even dream of it.”

Chapter Text

4:45am

Colby took a moment to catch his breath and try to calm the vibrations in his skull, but it was unsuccessful as he choked up, blinking down the tears that stung his eyes. He knew there wouldn’t be any sense of reasoning until he had gotten Sam out of here and to a hospital to patch up that cut in his forehead. Though, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever find peace within each other. Their lives would never be the same, and he was certain of that. He truthfully didn’t even know if he could continue this line of work when they finally got out of this damned house. And then there was the feeling he couldn’t shake, a creeping sensation that dug into his skin, that stupid comment David had made. 

‘Sam sold you out.’
‘Your soul for his.’

He held his head down, elbows on his knees as the words consumed him. He was sulking, just as he had been for the past hour, going back and forth in a battle through his mind. His determination to help Sam was faltering, and he hated it. He was scared, he was angry, but over all, he felt betrayed. He couldn’t shake it away, but he knew that he couldn’t let himself focus on it any longer. Sam needed him to be level-headed, not drowning in sorrow, or even hate. Because, yes, he did feel a little hate, and even as he knew it was aimed at the choices Sam had made, he was desperate to re-direct it towards that thing forcing its hand through Sam. He didn’t appreciate what David had said, and he decided he would’ve rather never known. 

He had always thought, always under the belief that Sam would do anything for him, just as Colby would do the same. That was the promise they had made with each other on day one, never spoken but always known. If what David had told him was true, then the blonde had gone out and broken that, breaking a sense of trust that Colby feared couldn’t be fixed. He hoped and prayed it wasn’t what he thought, that they could talk this out and it would all be a memory they’d laugh at, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Shit…” He cursed, his head falling back and thudding against the cabinet. He let the Ovilus slip through his fingers and into his bag before kicking it away from him. “Come on, Cole, pull yourself together… just get over it, he did what he had to…” He mumbled to himself, shifting to hold his forehead, trying to rub away the frustrations. He let out a humorless chuckle, eye twitching, “Yeah right…”

“Colby…” He turned his head towards the door of the cabinet at the whisper of his name that came from Sam’s lips, spoken with his voice. It was tempting, it pulled him in like a siren, a call he felt the need to listen to, but he knew it would be futile. His fingers tapped at the base of the cabinet, shaking his head as he chose to ignore it.

“Colby…” Something more demanding this time around, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Sam had heard. His stomach churned and he was ready to go home, but he couldn’t leave Sam, couldn’t even bear the thought. Sam wouldn’t leave him behind… At least, he thought he wouldn’t, but maybe he would. It was conflicting, but he knew for certain that he was going to get Sam out of this.

He shifted his arms, foot tapping and head reeling, trying to sort through his thoughts before they drove him mad, “Okay… So, Mary’s the one possessing him. Uhm, wh-what do I know about Mary?” He struggled for a moment, biting at his lip as he tried to remember what George had told him, but Sam was always better at that, “She, uhm… She’s bipolar a-and the medication she was on didn’t do much for her? She, uhm, she lost her mind a-and that resulted in her and Anthony’s death. Okay, okay, good, I know that… Jesus, how the fuck is that supposed to be useful?” He covered his face with his hands as he let out a groan, fully at a loss and completely annoyed.

He sucked in a breath made of the foggy air, closing his eyes before letting it go again, “Okay, square one… Mary’s a ghost, once a human and now a spirit… Can spirits even possess people?” He questioned, chewing on his lip, shaking his head, “Apparently, I guess? Whatever… Uhm, what else did George say…? Oh, she likes attaching herself to people!” He jolted up, head hitting the drawer above him and making him groan.

“Son of a-” He rubbed his head harshly where he had slammed it, his rings scraping his scalp, “God, I need to get this shit over with before I break something. Intentionally this time.”

There was a thud overhead that made him flinch, hands over his mouth as he waited. He had been too loud, and he knew that. He swallowed, hands slowly falling away from his mouth after a long moment, whispering to himself, “Okay… M-Maybe it’s not just people she’s attached to? Some m-movies show that, a-and maybe I just need to get rid of that object? God, am I really about to use a TV show to get me out of this…?” 

There was a scream that erupted from above him, blood curdling and soaked in pain. It wasn’t created from the spirit within him, it was created from him. And, suddenly, he didn’t care if Sam had sold him out, he didn’t care that Sam traded out his pain for Colby to take it. Suddenly, he wished Sam had done it sooner, because the thought of Sam going through such torture breaks him.

He took a breath, nodding his head to himself as he flexed out his fingers, “Yes I am… this is about to be the dumbest shit I’ve ever done…” 

He sighs, laying his palm flat on the cabinet door, breathing in deep through his nose before pushing it open. He cringes at the squeaky hinges, hunching his shoulders and awaiting a creak or a growl, but he hears nothing. Swallowing thickly, he crawls out, knees harsh against the cold tile and hands moving cautiously as he tries not to clash his rings against them. He peaks around the corner of the island, lips smacking together as he searches through the dark.

When he doesn’t see anything, he heaves out a breath, leaning his back against the island, hands brushing through his hair, “Holy shit… I’m gonna kill him when we get out of here.”

He stood slowly, stepping cautiously around the kitchen as he looked at the cupboards on the wall. He prays as he opens each one, hoping to find what he was looking for. There's glass cups, a box of granola bars and a large bowl with leftover candy that Colby assumed was from Halloween. He shrugged, snagging a small candy bar for himself and shoving it into his pocket. He kept pushing, looking recklessly until his eyes finally laid on a large container of salt. His lips twitch up slightly, arm reaching in for it as he stands on his toes, pulling it out and staring down at the label. He feels stupid and begins to second guess himself, but he shakes away the feeling. He didn’t have much of a plan, but what he did have was what TV shows and movies had taught him. He knew Hollywood always fucked up facts, but it was all he had.

He placed it on the container, shaky hands moving to the drawers. He opened each one, the next harder than the last, nearly ripping them from the wall. At the last one, he dug through hand towels, gloves and a few loose batteries before he finally found a blue lighter. It looked old and the metal was a little rusted, but it didn’t matter much to him. He ran his finger against the spark wheel, feeling relief when a flame ignited. He let it go, reaching over for the salt again. For the first time that night, he felt hopeful.

He starts his way out of the kitchen, gliding through the tile, but slowing when he reaches the wooden floors as he tries his hardest to avoid making them creak. His lungs were poking and prodding against his ribs, ready to pop as his beat grew stronger. The fear, the paranoia, it was ready to make his heart stop, but he kept moving. He crossed over carpet in the hall, tripping over it slightly, but catching himself before he crashed into the couch. 

He rounded the couch, stopping just before the fireplace. He popped open the salt, some of it spilling onto the floor and making a small curse fall from his lips. He made a curve around the fireplace with it, wall to wall as he stood inside. When he was finished, he was nearly out of salt.

He got down to his knees—placing the salt down beside him—, spinning on the lighter and shakenly holding it to the wood. It took him a while, a few swears and frustrated groans, but it finally caught fire. He blew on it before pulling away, reaching over for the poker beside him, pushing at the wood to keep it ablaze, ashes spreading and flying up to his face. And finally, he lifts up the salt and pours the rest of it into the fire, watching it get swallowed by the flames, flinching at each crackle and pop that was made.

He smiles, standing and stepping out of the curve. The light from the fire shined against the gold frame of the painting. He stared at it, tilting his head as he studied it. It seemed as though the oils of the paint were melting, the pink and purple of the flowers in the meadow bleeding into a red, the faces of the child mushing together, the oils in their eyes darkening until they lacked any color at all. It was soulless and demonic. The gold of the frame began to snap, cracks forming into the walls behind it, falling slightly as the edge hit the mantle, shattering the pots of the plants.

Colby gasped, backing away with shaking hands—poker still in his grip—and trembling legs, turning with a hitch when his leg hit the couch. He looked back quickly, but it was as if nothing had changed. He swallowed, head turning to the stairs with a quivered lip. “Don’t let the bastard get to you…” He whispered to himself, brows furrowing and jaw set, clenching his hands at his sides as he made his way towards the stairs.

He taps his thumb against the metal, crouching as he makes his way up with his eyes glued to the master bedroom. When he reaches the top, he looks down the hall, hearing footsteps in the guest bedroom across from him. He can hear the way ‘Sam’ growls, but he barely moves, like he’s waiting for Colby to go to him. It makes him even more tempted to follow, but he ignores it. 

Instead, he swiftly moves to the master bedroom, the door already open. He takes a step inside but jolts at the sounds coming from the other room. A bed, or a desk, or maybe even both being thrown against the wall, wood breaking and nails flying. He was trashing it, and he sounded angry with each grunt and yell. “Colby!” 

Colby backed away, poker to his chest as his throat squeezed, mind and heart racing, ready to pass out from the nerves that spun. He needed to finish this, and it needed to be done fast. It wasn’t just Sam he was saving, it was also himself. He wasn’t ready to drown in red, choking on it as the beast forced his best friend's weakened hands to tear him apart. He could practically feel it already, skin ripping, bones snapping as it fed on his flesh. He’d be unable to fight, unable to push away. 

When his back hit the dresser, he jumped, turning with his poker out, ready to swing. The stress was too much, it was making everything spin as his vision narrowed and vomit sat in his throat. He needed out, out, out. He wanted to lay on his couch, Sam by his side as they watched trash TV and made fun of people on the internet. He didn’t care about his fans, he didn’t care about the views they’d get if they shared this experience, he just didn’t care. He wanted to go home. 

His hands reached out for the glass case, trying to open the latch on the side as his palms began to sweat, but he found he was unsuccessful as his fingers slipped. He pulled, setting the poker down to use both his hands, but it never budged. He leaned in closer, trying to examine it closely as he chewed on his lip. There was a small hole, meant for a key that he didn’t have. 

“Oh, for the love of-” Colby sighed, fists clenching at his side. He didn’t have the time to look for where the key could be hidden, and he was certain George wasn’t stupid enough to leave it lying about. So, he did the only thing he knew would work for certain. He lifted the poker over his shoulder and swung at the case. The glass shattered around him, some sticking into the pads of his fingers and others scattering across the floor. He knew there would be a bill to follow him for this, but he didn’t care all too much about it. He breathed out, reaching forward and grabbing hold of the necklace and the ring, looking down at them. Some of the gems were missing, and in the moonlight that broke through the window, Colby was certain the diamond was fake, but it didn’t matter to him, it was going to burn anyway.

“Found you…” Colby turned, elbow knocking against the dresser, glass poking at him as he stared at the way ‘Sam’ stared back. His left leg was dragged, shoulders hunched with a bright smile on his face, something that went back, wide as peeled, skin ripping and bleeding, uncanny. His skin was almost grey, something black dripping down his blue lips as he growled like an animal.

Colby could only stare, mouth dry and unsure of what to say. He tried, voice cracking and breath hitched. He smacked his lips, gripping tighter at the poker, “S-Sam…?” It lunged for him and Colby ducked, kicking himself away, “Come on, Sam, snap out of it! I know you’re still in there, you need to fucking wake up! I swear, this goes so much further than having demons up your ass!”

It laughs, a mix of something inhuman, a mix of southern drawls, and a mix of Sam within it. It looks at him, eyes not of Sam, eyes of something he’s never seen before, “Sam’s not here…” It chuckles slightly, then, there's nothing but silence. It picks and pokes at Colby, chills that rush through his spine as he awaits, for what, he’s not sure. 

Then, it pounces, something so sudden as Colby yelps as he moves away. He holds the poker up, reader to stab, but stops himself when his eyes catch the gold of Sam's hair, his best friend, his brother. He couldn’t possibly do this, he couldn’t hurt him so permanently. He winds it, shifting it so the point isn’t in harm's way as he lands a hit at Sam's side. The body goes down, hitting the floor harshly as Colby turns on his heel. As he escapes through the door, he can’t help but yell a small ‘sorry’ to the blonde, hoping he could still hear what he says.

He stumbles down the stairs, missing most of the steps and listening to the beast within his friend growl, sprinting closer on his heel. He jumps over the circle made of salt, catching his breath as he lets the poker fall. He holds up the necklace, a soft prayer on his lips, “God, I beg you to please let Supernatural be right about this…” He sucks in a sharp breath before he throws them into the fire, covering his face as the flames get higher and melt and pop at the plastic, because he was right—it was all just plastic. “Cheap bastard…” He huffs as the ring melts and bubbles.

He turns, freezing suddenly as Sam looks right back at him. He stares, hoping for the change to start soon, waiting for that God awful smile to fade and for his skin to go back, waiting for the veins to go away, waiting for the black to stop dripping, but it never comes. Instead, it laughs at him, something hysteric as it points his way, mocking him for his efforts.

“W-What-” He’s ready to ask his questions and demand answers, but he hears a scream from beside him. He turns, the ghost of a woman engulfed in flames as she cries, dress ripped and skin falling apart as the bones peek through her cheeks. She falls to her knees before she finally disappears, the wind carrying her away. Silence hits them for just a moment more before Colby turns back, “I… I don’t understand…”

‘Sam’ stumbles in closer, feet kicking away the salt as it crunches behind him, “Did you really believe Mary was the one to do all of this? Sweet little Mary? Sam reminds me of her… As you remind me of David. So easy to manipulate, so easy to give false hope.” It whispers in a raspy tone and Colby's lip quivers.

“A-Are you Anthony-”

“I’m neither human nor spirit. I’m something you can’t rid of simply with fire and salt. This isn’t a game, Colby, this is what my master commands.”

Colby steps back, head knocking against the mantle, “Y-You’re master?"

“Satan himself.”