Chapter Text
Finally, the house was spotless again. It took a while to clean off the mud from those fucking teenagers who came in here, got dirt everywhere, then got drunk as shit, leaving alcohol, vomit, cigarette butts, the whole lot.
It had taken him a week to clean that lot up, but it was over now, thank fuck.
He sighed, and disappeared. It was too difficult simply being sometimes.
\(-)/
“Wilbur, for fucks sake, stop being difficult.”
The ghost threw back his head and sighed loudly.
“B͜͡u͜͡t͜͡ d͜͡a͜͡d͜͡,͜͡ i͜͡m͜͡ b͜͡o͜͡r͜͡e͜͡d͜͡,͜͡ a͜͡n͜͡d͜͡ t͜͡i͜͡r͜͡e͜͡d͜͡,͜͡ a͜͡n͜͡d͜͡ a͜͡m͜͡ d͜͡o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ f͜͡o͜͡r͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡ d͜͡a͜͡y͜͡. I͜͡ r͜͡e͜͡f͜͡u͜͡s͜͡e͜͡ t͜͡o͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡ a͜͡n͜͡y͜͡ l͜͡o͜͡n͜͡g͜͡e͜͡r͜͡."͜͡
“Wilbur, you don’ even sleep. How can you be tired?”
"͜͡ i͜͡ t͜͡a͜͡k͜͡e͜͡ o͜͡f͜͡f͜͡e͜͡n͜͡c͜͡e͜͡ a͜͡t͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡,͜͡ y͜͡o͜͡ù͜͡ k͜͡n͜͡o͜͡w͜͡. I͜͡ d͜͡i͜͡d͜͡n͜͡t͜͡ w͜͡a͜͡n͜͡t͜͡ t͜͡o͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡ k͜͡i͜͡l͜͡l͜͡e͜͡d͜͡."͜͡
“Uh huh.”
"͜͡i͜͡ d͜͡i͜͡d͜͡n͜͡t͜͡!͜͡"͜͡
“Wilbur, you heard there was a serial killer in town, and you said “whop te too” and ran straight into it.”
“What do you even have agains’ this place anyway?” His brother asked.
"͜͡t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡s͜͡ a͜͡n͜͡o͜͡t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡ g͜͡h͜͡o͜͡s͜͡t͜͡ h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡. H͜͡e͜͡ m͜͡i͜͡g͜͡h͜͡t͜͡ n͜͡o͜͡t͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡ f͜͡r͜͡i͜͡e͜͡n͜͡d͜͡l͜͡y͜͡."͜͡ Wilbur gasped dramatically. "͜͡w͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ i͜͡f͜͡ h͜͡e͜͡ w͜͡a͜͡n͜͡t͜͡s͜͡ t͜͡o͜͡ k͜͡i͜͡l͜͡l͜͡ m͜͡e͜͡?͜͡!͜͡?͜͡ d͜͡a͜͡d͜͡,͜͡ w͜͡e͜͡ s͜͡i͜͡m͜͡p͜͡l͜͡y͜͡ m͜͡u͜͡s͜͡t͜͡ t͜͡u͜͡r͜͡n back. w͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ a͜͡r͜͡e͜͡ w͜͡e͜͡ e͜͡v͜͡e͜͡n͜͡ l͜͡o͜͡o͜͡k͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ f͜͡o͜͡r͜͡?͜͡"͜͡
“An’ old house. Should be two stories. Used to belong to some old people an’ their son. Son killed by parents, husband killed in some police thing. Apparently haunted as shit. Perfect place to revive you.”
"͜͡b͜͡u͜͡t͜͡... W͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ i͜͡f͜͡ i͜͡t͜͡s͜͡ a͜͡c͜͡t͜͡u͜͡a͜͡l͜͡l͜͡y͜͡ h͜͡a͜͡u͜͡n͜͡t͜͡e͜͡d͜͡!͜͡?͜͡!͜͡"͜͡
“Your a ghost. Why are you worried about ghosts? Is this some ghost-y unspoken law?”
“It’s not haunted, Wilbur.” Techno said, sternly.
"͜͡b͜͡u͜͡t͜͡ w͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡-͜͡"͜͡
“Hauntings only happen if the person had some hyperfixation. Some obsession. Something they spent their entire life focused on. You know how rare that is? For someone to be so obsessed they came back from the dead to keep doing it?!” Phil butted in.
Wilbur shut up at that.
"͜͡t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡n͜͡ w͜͡h͜͡y͜͡ a͜͡m͜͡ i͜͡ h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡?͜͡"͜͡
“Because. You were obsessed with not bein’ alone. Bein’ dead is bein’ alone, I guess.” Techno smiled to himself. He had won this one.
"͜͡y͜͡o͜͡u͜͡r͜͡ l͜͡y͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡. I͜͡ a͜͡m͜͡ p͜͡e͜͡r͜͡f͜͡e͜͡c͜͡t͜͡l͜͡y͜͡ c͜͡o͜͡n͜͡t͜͡e͜͡n͜͡t͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ a͜͡l͜͡o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡. I͜͡n͜͡ f͜͡a͜͡c͜͡t͜͡,͜͡ i͜͡ s͜͡p͜͡e͜͡n͜͡t͜͡ m͜͡o͜͡s͜͡t͜͡ o͜͡f͜͡ m͜͡y͜͡ a͜͡l͜͡i͜͡v͜͡e͜͡ l͜͡i͜͡f͜͡e͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ a͜͡l͜͡o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡."͜͡
“And then you met us.”
“And then you got yourself killed again, and people saw you dead this time, so we had to move to bring you back, mate.”
Techno smiled to himself. Wilbur’s death had put him up one, as he had only died once, and Wilbur had died twice now.
The fact he was better at staying alive then Wilbur was was something else entirely.
The rocky path up the mountain they were travelling on was narrow, and high. Now, this wouldn’tve been a problem, if Wilbur hadn’t shoved him reasonably close to the edge of it. His boots had grip, he could take it. Techno threw his arms out, and managed to catch himself before any permanent damage was done.
His heartbeat was in his ears as he stepped away from the edge.
“Wilbur, what the fuck.”
The ghost looked smugly back at him. Wilbur lightly shoved him in the shoulder again, which was a lot harder than he had thought. Techno placed his foot on the edge to steady himself.
Just for the bank to fall away.
He heard the crack of his leg breaking, his heartbeat screaming in his ears.
His head smashed against something, black spots pooling his vision.
And then everything went black.
\(-)/
Phil sighed, turned his head towards the sky, and yelled.
“Wilbur, why the fuck do you have to make everything so much harder.”
Wilbur just stood there, looking smug. About ten seconds later, a pale hand stuck up from the ground, latched on to a loose rock, then pulled.
The semi-translucent form of Technoblade hauled himself through the ground, and stood up.
"͜͡W͜͡i͜͡l͜͡b͜͡u͜͡r͜͡,͜͡ i͜͡ f͜͡u͜͡c͜͡k͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡e͜͡ y͜͡o͜͡u͜͡."͜͡
\(-)/
Tommy became again. There was someone in his house. Oh hell the fuck not. Other people meant mess. And he had just finished fucking cleaning.
Tommy paused. It wasn’t a child, or a teenager, but a fully grown adult, with two adult ghosts trailing after him, one a shit ton happier than the other.
“You two,” Weird Man began. “Are going to be the death of me. Who cares if Mrs Smith is stricter than Mr Morrison?!”
"͜͡S͜͡h͜͡e͜͡ i͜͡s͜͡,͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡o͜͡u͜͡g͜͡h͜͡."͜͡
"͜͡N͜͡o͜͡ s͜͡h͜͡e͜͡'s͜͡ f͜͡u͜͡c͜͡k͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡ n͜͡o͜͡t͜͡,͜͡ T͜͡e͜͡c͜͡h͜͡n͜͡o͜͡. M͜͡r͜͡ m͜͡o͜͡r͜͡r͜͡i͜͡s͜͡o͜͡n͜͡ h͜͡o͜͡l͜͡d͜͡s͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡ r͜͡e͜͡c͜͡o͜͡r͜͡d͜͡ f͜͡o͜͡r͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡ m͜͡o͜͡s͜͡t͜͡ r͜͡e͜͡d͜͡ s͜͡l͜͡i͜͡p͜͡s͜͡ g͜͡i͜͡v͜͡e͜͡n͜͡ o͜͡u͜͡t͜͡ i͜͡n͜͡ o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡ c͜͡l͜͡a͜͡s͜͡s͜͡."͜͡
“Your class were just dicks, Wil. Mr Morrison was nice.”
What the fuck. Tommy had never seen another ghost. Granted, he’d never left the house much.
“D͜͡o͜͡e͜͡s͜͡ s͜͡o͜͡m͜͡e͜͡o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡ l͜͡i͜͡v͜͡e͜͡ h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡?͜͡"͜͡
“No, it’s been abandoned for years. The last people to live here were drug dealers. Killed their son then died in a shootout with the police.”
The happier ghost looked up in awe and- wait, were they talking about him?!
Oh he was going to fuck their shit-
“Right. You two ready?”
"͜͡W͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ i͜͡f͜͡ W͜͡i͜͡l͜͡b͜͡u͜͡r͜͡s͜͡ r͜͡i͜͡g͜͡h͜͡t͜͡?͜͡ W͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ i͜͡f͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡s͜͡ s͜͡o͜͡m͜͡e͜͡o͜͡n͜͡e͜͡ e͜͡l͜͡s͜͡e͜͡ h͜͡e͜͡r͜͡e͜͡?͜͡"͜͡
“There’s not. I told you. Unless the drug dealers were so obsessed with selling drugs and being broke they came back, there’s no ghosts.”
"͜͡w͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡ a͜͡b͜͡o͜͡u͜͡t͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡e͜͡ k͜͡i͜͡d͜͡?͜͡"͜͡
Phil paused.
"͜͡H͜͡e͜͡'d͜͡v͜͡e͜͡ b͜͡e͜͡e͜͡n͜͡ a͜͡b͜͡o͜͡u͜͡t͜͡ t͜͡w͜͡e͜͡n͜͡t͜͡y͜͡,͜͡ m͜͡a͜͡y͜͡b͜͡e͜͡?͜͡ t͜͡h͜͡a͜͡t͜͡s͜͡ n͜͡e͜͡a͜͡r͜͡l͜͡y͜͡ o͜͡l͜͡d́͜͡ e͜͡n͜͡o͜͡u͜͡g͜͡h͜͡ t͜͡o͜͡ c͜͡o͜͡m͜͡e͜͡ b͜͡a͜͡c͜͡k͜͡."͜͡
“I think we’ll take our chances, mate. There’s never gonna be a place better than this. It’s far away, and open, and “haunted”, so people will leave us alone, in case you two manage to get yourselves killed again.
"͜͡I͜͡t͜͡s͜͡ a͜͡l͜͡w͜͡a͜͡y͜͡s͜͡ W͜͡i͜͡l͜͡b͜͡u͜͡r͜͡s͜͡ f͜͡a͜͡u͜͡l͜͡t͜͡. E͜͡v͜͡e͜͡r͜͡y͜͡. S͜͡i͜͡n͜͡g͜͡l͜͡e͜͡. T͜͡i͜͡m͜͡e͜͡."͜͡
"͜͡n͜͡o͜͡p͜͡e͜͡."͜͡
What the fuck were they TALKING about?! Die again- that’s not possible. You can’t die again. What-
The tall man drew something on his carpets with chalk, some weird symbols- Hey that was too far.
These bastards can’t just barge into HIS house, draw on HIS floors. And now he’s chanting something. Great.
Those wrong’uns can take their demon spells and shove them-
okay, ouch.
What the fuck were they doing. Because it’s hurting. Hurting a lot.
He’s on fire.
No, he’s being turned inside out, then back again. He’s being pulled apart, and shoved back together in the wrong order, then pulled apart again. He doesn’t even have an analogy for this much pain. Sheer pain alone.
It feels like claws ripping and tearing at flesh he didn’t have. He started to get access to his body back, and he screamed. He screamed for someone, anyone, to take the pain away. Because fuck this. Fuck everything.
He wanted to scream and cry and break. He had done so much, been been for so long, he didn’t want to be anymore.
He didn’t even want to not be, he just wanted to be gone.
Except a small part of him didn’t. It wanted to live.
He was still crying, still screaming. Except this time it was different. His throat was sore. Sore. It felt. He felt-
Holy shit he FELT.
He could feel things!
The pain was leaving, he could hardly feel it anymore.
He opened his eyes. They were wet. Tears, his mind supplied.
Everything was so CLEAR.
Nothing was blue-tainted, like before. What the fuck did the man do.
Speaking of the man, he was staring at him.
A new wave of tears slipped down his face, and he remembered something about not crying.
Tommy wiped away his tears, and rubbed his face. His eyes slipped from the man’s shocked face, to the circle on the ground.
He scowled. That was gonna be an arse to clean.
“Fucking hell dad, hurt more than it did-“
It was one of the ghosts from before, except-
Alive.
Tommy froze. A chill slipped down his spine. There was no way, no way.
He placed his hand on the wall. As hard as he tried, it wouldn’t go through the peeling paint.
Holy shit.
Had he been… revived?
“What the fuck.” He whispered.
“Uhhhh… jus’ me or is there a kid in here?” His head snapped up. It was the other ghost. This ghos- man was the tallest out of the three of them, with red eyes.
“Nope, there’s a kid in here. A child. A-“
“How am I alive?” Their heads snapped up.
“Were you dead?” The original man asked. The one who drew on his carpet. He needed to vacuum the chalk up before it stains. Where did he leave it? He has a feeling it’s not under the stairs.
“I asked first.” That was a perfectly reasonable answer. He was proud of himself for that one.
“I was trying to revive my sons, Techno,” he gestured to the tall one who was rummaging through a backpack, “And Wilbur,” The other ghost gave a wave and a smile.
“Who managed to get killed, and come back as ghosts. Once their ghosts it’s reasonably simple to revive them, it’s just painful. Becoming a ghost is the hard part.” The Man seemed nice. Except he had put CHALK on his CARPETS.
“Yeah I’m dead.” He muttered out.
“Well not anymore! Welcome, to your second life. Now, what are you doing in this house?” Wilbur asks. He likes Wilbur more than the man. Wilbur didn’t put chalk on his carpets.
“It’s my house. And YOU,” he points to the man, “put chalk on my carpet.”
“It’s chalk. It’ll clean.” The man gives a half smile. Obviously never cleaned chalk off carpet.
“It’ll stain if I don’t clean it.”
“How did you die?” Techno asks. Not cleaning chalk off the carpet,
“None of your business, bitch.”
“Rude. Your like, twelve. How do you know that language?”
Tommy gasped dramatically.
“I’m 16, bitch. Your fucking elderly.”
Techno paused.
“Your sixteen, and a ghost.”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck did you do in your firs’ life?”
He tried to think back. All he could remember was cleaning. He cleaned everything, got every trace of drug, burn, out of everything.
“Cleaned.”
Wilbur laughed.
“What’s so funny, prick?”
“You…sixteen…” Wilbur keeled over with laughter.
“Well, bitch, I was fucking good at it! I still fucking am! I’m the most poggers cleaner in the entire world. I can get cigarette burns out of fabric without ripping it. Do you smell any drugs? No. Because of me.”
That made The Man pause.
“No… You’d be older, wouldn’t you? There’s no way. No possible-“ he noticed Tommy looking at him.
“Your not Thomas Innes, are you?”
“No.”
The man let out a sigh of relief.
“I’m Tommy Innit. Innes is boring, so I changed it. I heard some kids say it, and it was poggers. So that’s my new last name. My full name, however, is Tommy Careful Danger Krakin Innit-“
“Thomas Simon Innes. Born 1991. Died 2007, diagnoses of body… they don’t do things halfway on Wikipedia, do they? Your parents died in a shootout between two hundred cops and the two of them, ended up shooting themselves… holy shit.” The Man read from his phone.
“Shut the fuck up. That’s not my name, and those weren’t my parents. Those were two people who lived in my house, one of which birthed me.” The man nodded.
“I’m Phil.”
“Your old.”
“Wha- where the hell did that come from?!”
“Found it!” Techno said, pulling a box of hair dye from the backpack.
“Does this place have water? And power?”
“Yeah.”
“How the hell-“
“Cool, thanks.” Techno said, and wandered off.
“Hey! Bitch, you can’t go through my house-“
“I can, and I will.”
“Fuck you.”
“Thanks, kid.”
“Not a kid.”
“Uh huh. Hey where’s the bathroom?”
“Top floor, first door to the left, be careful of the second tile on your right it’s broken and sharp- but you cant use my bathroom!”
“Hey mate?” Tommy whips around to see Phil.
“How long have you been alone?”
“I don’t know, I lost track of time. Now get out of my house, all of you.”
“That’s not an option now, gremlin child. But don’t worry, we’ll make it okay.”
“Not an-“
“How do you think the townspeople gonna react to a dead kid walking around, mate? You need food.”
“I have a garden.”
“Maybe you can clean, but you sure as fuck can’t garden, mate.”