Work Text:
Winchester Mystery House. Check.
Island of the Dolls. Check.
And now, Sallie House.
The first two had been laughable, and although Ryan called bullshit on Shane not being scared, Shane himself wasn’t lying. There was nothing remotely threatening about Sarah Winchester staring them down in her bedroom, situated in her bed as she idly braided her own hair, or about the harmless, although slightly creepy decrepit dolls scattered throughout the floating platform.
That’s the thing about humans: they get spooked by things they don’t understand; the unknown is terrifying. Call it a biased perspective, as Shane wasn’t human, but it seemed laughable how mortal beings fear so many things in their lives, most of which won’t ever happen.
“Hey. It’s gonna be okay. Ryan, look at me.” Ryan turned to him, and Shane settled his hands on his shoulders, under the guise of comforting Ryan, looking down into his eyes. “You’ll be fine. There’s the crew, there’s me, you have your holy water, plenty of protection that you won’t even need. Because demons aren’t real.” Ryan huffed indignantly at that. “Remember those wise words from the father: do not be afraid.”
While he was talking, Shane concentrated on where he made contact with Ryan, channeling his energy into imprinting a mark on his friend.
“Okay, okay. I’m just psyching myself out. Jesus, your hands are warm. You getting sick?”
Shane dropped his hands. “Nope. Big hands are naturally warmer. More surface area for blood flow. That explains why you have cold hands all of the time.”
“Hey, fuck you, I have big hands—“
Shane side-eyed Ryan, with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. “And you know what having big hands mean.”
“Shut up, Shane.”
-∆-
They had arrived in Atchison, Kansas, and Shane surveyed the unassuming house, with its porch light on, in the inky dark night, as Ryan went off to fetch his holy water (“And don’t ask me for some later.” “….I won’t.”). He thought back to Ryan’s comment about the bad “energy” he felt emanating from the house. He wasn’t incorrect per se, but energy was put out by any entity that inhabited the earth. There was no difference between any emission of energy, no distinction between “good” or “bad”. The only reason why Ryan could feel it was because there was a significant amount of energy being outputted by whatever was inhabiting the house.
“I’ve lived my life by one adage,” Ryan said when they sat down in the living room. “And that’s ‘don’t fuck with demons.’”
Shane settled into the comfortable armchair, and he smirked. Too late for that, buddy.
He halfheartedly listened to Ryan as he went on his spiel about the house, and his eyes flickered up to see the limp bottom half of a child’s body in the ceiling. He lazily tracked the movement, as it slowly lowered itself, and revealed a small girl in a white frilly dress staring straight at Ryan, her sunken eyes boring into his head.
So this must be Sallie.
He raised an eyebrow at her and redirected his attention to Ryan. If she were to come any closer, his mark on Ryan would hold true, and his short, unaware friend would remain safe. Still, he vigilantly watched Sallie in his periphery lest she tried to make a move for Ryan.
It was then time for them to come into the kitchen, to try to communicate with any presences in the house.
They both got up, and Shane sauntered behind Ryan and Eric, turning back one last time to see Sallie’s head rotate a full 180 degrees to follow their trek to the kitchen, her dark eyes unblinking. Shane smirked at her.
See ya later, Sallie.
-∆-
“Demon?”
“Stop calling it that.”
“De-monnn,” Shane lilted as he ambled towards the flashlight.
“Stop it— stop talking to it!”
“No, I just want to talk to the demons.” Shane grinned at misaddressing the man— the ghost shuffling to the stove, who looked mournfully at them as he curled in on the kitchen counter. Sorry dude, just keeping up the act. You’re either William or Michael, right?
The man faintly smiled at him, and mouthed, Will.
Will, you up for giving the little guy a scare here?
Will regarded him with a soft, almost melancholy look with his downturned eyes, and his chest heaved slightly as he let out a soundless sigh, and nodded.
I’ll give you a cue when to turn it on.
“We met a pal named Father… Thomas,” Shane mused as he struggled to remember the name of the quite nice, yet completely oblivious priest they met at Sacred Heart in San Jose. “He told us not to talk to you, but I think you guys are swell.”
He quashed down the urge to snicker when Will looked at him with something close to exasperation, and Shane walked away from the flashlight. The ghost smoothed down his union suit with his weathered hands, and then clasped them together, quietly awaiting Shane’s cue.
Eric, the investigator piped up. “If you like the guys staying here, turn the light on.” With that, Shane went back to crouch next to the flashlight, ignoring Ryan’s “You’re fucking crazy, Shane”, and said, “If you don’t like us, turn it on.” He winked at Will, and amidst Ryan’s frightened whispers, Will steadily reached for the flashlight, and tapped it gently, and it flickered on.
Right on cue was Ryan’s startled screams, and Shane grinned widely. Many thanks, Will.
Will nodded, all the while Ryan frantically ran in circles, screeching like some frenzied pigeon. “What the fuck? NOOOOOOOO.”
Shane shook with silent laughter and was about to clasp Ryan on the back, but he couldn’t catch his breath, and wheezed with uncontrollable laughter, canting backwards as Ryan shakily sat down.
“Where’s my holy water?”
“‘Where’s my holy water?’” Shane echoed, snickering at Ryan’s obliviousness. Holy water did squat on ghosts, and was a mere inconvenience to spirits. It also had absolutely no effect on demons, so take that, Father Thomas.
“If you actually don’t like us, please, just turn it on. I don’t think— I don’t think they have the power to turn it back on, frankly. I really think they don’t.” He laughed lightly. “Ryan…”
One more time, Will.
Will poked at the flashlight after a moment’s pause, and the flashlight lit up again, and Ryan started screaming.
“AGHHHHHH! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WHAT THE—“
“Keep in mind: we have to spend the night here,” Shane said, looking up at a distraught Ryan, who went eye-to-eye with the flashlight, as Will curiously looked on, next to Shane.
“Please turn the light off for us, spirits. Turn it all the way off,” Eric said, and Will fumbled with the flashlight, light wavering as he concentrated on focusing his energy to turn it off.
“You should’ve never talked to it, dude,” Ryan said, and Will waved at Shane before slowly disappearing into the kitchen backsplash. Ryan started to freak out about the flashlight rolling, as Will bumped into it when he left, and Shane started laughing again. He couldn’t help but be amused at how hyper-emotional Ryan became when he was spooked.
“It’s a flashlight, it rolls, it’s cylindrical,” Shane explained, which was quite a plausible reason for it to move, but he could tell Ryan wasn’t buying it.
“I need to lay down or something,” Ryan muttered, making his way into the living room, Shane trailing behind him.
“Hey, just take a— just sit down, it’s fine,” Shane soothed, as Ryan knelt and heavily laid down on the floor, knocking his head on the foot of the armchair. “Okay— well don’t hurt your—” He looked at Ryan, and sighed softly.
Shane carefully angled himself so he could sit down without disturbing Ryan at his feet. “I mean, sure, we don’t know how to explain that. Maybe it’s just— you know, flashlights are funny like that.”
But Ryan wasn’t listening; his brow was furrowed, his eyes were closed, distress radiating from his presence, and Shane felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He looked up, and sure enough, Sallie loomed over them, just three feet above. Shane made a lackadaisical gesture at her, that pushed her back to the far end of the room; she was getting too close for comfort. She growled at him, and in the blink of an eye disappeared into the wall, thwarted in her attempt to scare Ryan.
Shane directed his attention back to Ryan, who was still on the ground, trying to control his breathing, eyes still closed.
“So uh, you ready to go down to the basement?” He asked, and Ryan cracked open an eye to glare up at him.
“….Okay, let’s go.”
-∆-
“Here we go!” Shane hollered, lowering his lanky body onto the pentagram, and raised his hands in the air, as Ryan commented exasperatedly, “You’re out of your mind.”
“Rock and roll, buckaroo!” Being a dick about all of this amused Shane to no end, much to Ryan’s chagrin, but doing these antics helped put a smile on Ryan’s face, and it was worth it no matter how brief his amusement.
“If you wanna eat my heart, turn that light on.”
He paused, and suddenly Sallie appeared in the ceiling again. It seemed like her signature thing, to just hang in midair to unnerve people, but Shane wasn’t fazed.
“If you want to eat Ryan’s heart—“
“Don’t, don’t— stop putting me in your shit!”
“—Turn that light on. Our old pal, Ryan Bergara; we’re a package deal.”
Suddenly the light turned on, and as Ryan and Eric were clamoring about that, Sallie hovered just right behind Ryan, her small pale hand outstretched to touch him.
Don’t even think about it.
Shane stood up and narrowed his eyes at her, and suddenly she reeled back, clenching her hand into a fist. Without looking Shane knew a serpentine letter was burned into her palm, in the shape of a sharply scrawled “S”: his signature mark. She turned her pitch black eyes and hissed at him, mouth bared, black maw visible as she growled and almost unhinged her entire jaw. Shane was reminded of snakes, but he tried to banish the thought. He quite liked snakes, and he didn’t want to attribute them to this horrible spirit.
I warned you, honey. You can’t touch him.
She closed her gaping mouth, and then a grotesque grin appeared on her face.
Scio quid hoc est. The sentence crawled out of her mouth, in a language that Shane was all too familiar with.
And I know what you are too, Sallie. Here’s some Pig Latin for you: oh-gay uckest-fay or-self-yay.
She spat something back in Latin, rasping voice grating on Shane’s eardrums.
Ooooh, language. You might want to shut up before you get hurt again.
She snarled, and lunged for Ryan, clawing at his head before Shane managed to stop her. She vainly tried to rip at his skin, but Shane’s marks on Ryan’s shoulders glowed visibly from under Ryan’s shirt, repelling Sallie and preventing her from laying even a finger on him. Ryan flinched, almost unknowingly, but otherwise showed no signs of being aware of what just happened.
Over the hubbub of the flashlight turning on again, Shane raised a hand in her direction, and muttered some Latin incantations, and pointed at her. Immediately black, sinuous ropes materialized and snaked around her, like thin whips, binding tight, searing themselves into her skin, and with one last command (Apage!), Sallie vanished in a plume of smoke, jaws gaping as a piercing shriek escaped her body and scraped his eardrums. She’d been banished.
The Sallie House was finally rid of its namesake.
-∆-
They had migrated back to the living room, sleeping bags set up. Ryan was babbling nervously, probably trying to talk his way out of his uneasiness.
“I’m gonna get closer to you, I don’t care,” Ryan mumbled, scooting himself right next to Shane’s sleeping bag.
Shane let out a strained laugh. “Okay.” He felt relieved for that; the closer Ryan was to him, the more whatever still lurked in this house wouldn’t be able to approach Ryan without going through him. Shane didn’t want to interact with them unless they provoked him. Already the dark corners of the room flickered with shadows, creatures of Sallie’s kind— although much weaker— creatures who’ve infested the house after the Satanist family moved in to do their rituals, hungrily drawn to the shining, soft source of light otherwise known as Ryan Bergara.
Shane wasn’t ashamed to admit that it was Ryan’s jubilant energy that first attracted him; like Father Thomas said, demons do need a life force to feed off of. Thankfully for Ryan, Shane was a stronger demon than most, so he didn’t need to feed as much. If he did, it was from other people; he couldn’t imagine ever leeching off of his close friend for sustenance.
Normally, it was hard to resist taking away a human’s energy, but being near Ryan almost calmed him; if Shane was a livewire, Ryan was his sedative. Being around him meant that Shane could almost forget that he wasn’t one of Ryan’s kind; it made him feel alive.
Now, as they laid on the hard floor of the living room, Ryan’s heartbeat a quickened tattoo that Shane could feel if he just focused hard enough. He was scared.
“Hey,” he murmured, turning his head to the side, catching Ryan’s eye. “Remember what I told you. I’m here. If demons are real, and they are here, I’ll protect you.” He waited for a beat before saying, “These noodle arms aren’t good for nothing.”
Ryan exhaled, and let out a shaky laugh. “I’m pretty sure, because I can’t fight, and you’re not gonna be able to defend yourself and me too, Shane.”
You’d be surprised, Bergara.
He shut his eyes, under the guise of falling asleep, but Shane knew Ryan wasn’t getting a wink of sleep.
“I can practically hear you thinking,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”
“I’m scared as hell,” Ryan immediately replied, and Shane opened his eyes to see a worried Ryan looking at him. “I don’t think I can last for five minutes here, let alone 5 more hours.”
“You have your holy water.” It felt uncomfortable to lie through his teeth, but hopefully, if Ryan believed that his insignificant bottle of water would help him, it would calm him down. “You got those biceps to defend yourself.”
Ryan let out a laugh. “I don’t think my mortal body would match up against the supernatural.”
Shane hummed noncommittally. “Wanna play I Spy?”
“What are we, twelve?”
“It’ll help to distract you. I spy… with my little eyes… something that starts with a B.”
“Uhh. Give me another hint.”
“Something short.”
Ryan’s eyes scanned the room. “Hmm.”
“Tan.”
“Uhh. The bookcase?”
Shane made a buzzer sound. “Bookcases don’t talk.”
“Well if— wait, what?” Ryan stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, and then comprehension and annoyance filled his gaze. “Ha ha, very funny.”
Shane started snickering. “Get it? It’s a Bergara.”
“Go fuck yourself— I’ll have you know that I’m five foot ten.”
“Nine and three quarters.”
“That’s close enough—”
“Nope, nuh-uh, you’re a liar.”
“No matter what, I’m still shorter than you, you overgrown tree, let me have my victories.”
Shane smiled fondly at Ryan, and inwardly congratulated himself. Ryan, at least for the moment, seemed to be less strung out about sleeping in a haunted house, and more focused on one of his favorite pastimes, arguing with Shane.
“Alright then, Train Station.”
“Train sta— what?”
“You know, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters? From Harry Potter? Don’t tell me you d—”
“Shut the hell up, you fake fan, you didn’t even read all of the books, don’t patronize me on this,” Ryan scolded as Shane tilted back his head and let out a loud laugh, wheezing at Ryan’s indignant expression.
He might not have many responsibilities living in a mortal realm, but looking over this small, easily peeved human was the only one he needed.
-∆-
“You okay with driving?” Shane asked. They’d packed up after bidding goodbye to the house (Ryan’s goodbye in the form of rude hand gestures and language, while Shane discreetly saluted Will, still drifting in the kitchen as they passed it to exit the house), and waving off their camera crew as they drove back first to the airport.
Ryan smiled at him. “Yeah, I’m good.” He looked back at the house to flip it off one last time, and Shane shook his head, smiling.
“Let’s go, Ry.”
And with that a human and a demon got into a car, backs turned to the Sallie House, and never looked back.