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Impulse
It had all been going well, actually. The haunt wasn’t too difficult yet. Grian had found the breaker, Impulse had found the freezing temps in the master’s bedroom and Scar had heard the ghost grumble something through the spirit box. It was potentially a demon, but a rather timid one at that.
Easy, almost.
Of course, Impulse had been immediately punished for even thinking of a haunt as easy .
“I’ve got EMF 3,” Grian said, as he entered the van. Scar had stepped in just before him and now turned around to look at the gadget.
“In here?” Impulse said, looking up from the computer screen he had been staring at, setting up their sound sensors.
Grian shrugged, holding the display out to Impulse and Scar to see.
The high angry noise that usually alerted of ghost activity almost doubled in volume.
Impulse scrunched his eyebrows even closer in confusion. That wasn't possible. Their shouldn't be any activity inside their van. The EMF only picked up readings whenever a ghost was in the room...
Grian waved the EMF reader around, trying to locate where it caught the activity from. With a sting of worry, Impulse recognized how it grew louder whenever Grian turned towards Scar.
“Skizz,” he said in his radio, voice low. “Come back to the van.”
“You got it Dipple Dop,” Skizz sounded back, mood bright as ever, but Impulse didn't listen.
Grian had just come to the same conclusion as he had, but the avian still laughed about it.
“Are you a ghost Scar?” he laughed, prodding the EMF in Scar's chest.
Scar drew his breath to surely answer with something theatrical, but the ghost didn't let him start.
At least that's what Impulse figured must have happened. The part of his brain that wasn't busy screaming in surprise and getting the fire extinguisher they kept under the desk just in case.
Well, good thing they did.
Because as Scar opened his mouth to answer the EMF in Grian's hand, still close enough to Scar to touch him, went shrill, sending sparks and flickering lights everywhere.
Grian flung himself back, getting into defensive stance, a picture of confusion and pain written across his face.
Behind Scar the crucifixes, all three of them, puffed and burned in their mount on the wall.
The evidence was clear.
Hunt.
“Skizz NOW!” Impulse all but yelled in his radio. The only answer was static. Then he grabbed the fire extinguisher.
He didn't pay much attention to Scar while he tried to keep their valuable equipment as well as his colleagues away from the exposed heat, so he didn't see the way Scar slouched and doubled over. He didn’t hear the strangled cry he let out, over the screaming EMF reader and the blazing crucifixes and the rush of the fire extinguisher.
So he wasn't prepared.
Impulse wasn't one bit prepared when he turned around and only saw his friend, usually using his wheelchair or on good days even his cane, lunge at him.
Skizz
Skizz wasn't done trying the spirit box when Impulse had ordered him back over radio. Usually he would have wanted to stay longer, and if only to prove that he was as skilled with that thing as Scar was! But Impulse had sounded serious, so he didn't argue.
He was halfway out the door, careful to not get any splinters from the broken woods, when his radio went static.
But the door didn't move.
Which was odd.
Instead, he heard Impulse yell from inside the van.
“Skizz NOW!”
For just a moment, Skizz froze. Then he started into a sprint. He took the closed gate with a leap, his long legs making it easy to jump the intricate iron fencing.
It couldn't have taken him more than a few seconds, but even before he reached the door someone else jumped out, stumbling a few steps and then making a beeline to the woods.
Skizz, purely on instinct, was about to follow when a strangled noise held him back.
He’d be just happy if he never had to hear it again, he thought.
Still, he stopped in his tracks.
From within the van Grian had let out a cry, half swallowed by a sob. “Skizz!”
Skizz's heart dropped to approximately the height of his knees.
“ Please ,” Grian continued and Skizz was pretty sure the avian hadn't seen him yet. He was crying out in pure panic. “ Please come fast.”
And Skizz’s heart plummeted.
He took another leap, practically jumping up the step inside the van. He beat his giant wings once, feathers ruffled and puffed in distress, to make sure the jump brought him as far as possible.
He didn't care that he scraped his knees when he skidded to an halt next to Grian.
Next to Grian and Impulse .
Because Grian was cradling the demon in his lap as best as he could considering their height difference.
Skizz's hands shook only a little when he too wrapped his arms around Impulse's shoulders.
His friend's head lolled to one side from the movement.
“What happened ,” Skizz heard himself ask.
Grian swallowed another sob, looking up at him. His eyes were wide in fear and shock, swimming with tears.
“I-I don't know,” he stuttered, drawing Impulse closer. “The EMF- and the crucis- and Scar-” he shuddered. If possible his eyes went even wider. “We need to find Scar.”
Skizz honestly had trouble deciphering any of that but he forced himself to breathe, hoping the calm he emitted would calm his friend too.
He tried to not look at Impulse.
They had a few minutes.
At least that's what he hoped.
One step after the other.
“Grian you need to tell me what happened,” he said, with all the calm he could muster.
Grian took a deep breath. His grip on Impulse's shirt went white-knuckled. When he spoke again there was only a small tremor in his voice.
“I got some EMF in the van. We joked about it. Then the crucifixes went off, and Impulse used the fire extinguisher to put them out and then-” he drew another sharp breath, looking at Skizz like he couldn't believe it. “Scar attacked him.”
Skizz felt his spiraling thoughts scratch to a halt.
“ Scar attacked him?” he parroted back before he could stop himself. Then he looked back at Impulse.
But yes he was sure.
He couldn't feel his friend's soul.
He could feel a pulse.
This was a ghost. A hunt. He was sure.
But Scar?
“Can you bring him back?”
Grian had stopped crying by now, his voice sounded steadier with every word.
Skizz stared at him.
“I-” he started but Grian cut him off. “It was a ghost,” he said, getting up. “You have to bring him back. And I have to find Scar.”
“Grian wait,” Skizz couldn't keep the worry out of his voice. No matter how calm he tried to be. “If Scar attacked him, and you say it was a ghost, then Scar isn't himself right now.”
Grian stared at him, unmoving.
“I know,” he said. “That's why I need to find him. After all, ghosts can't kill me.”
“Scar can,” Skizz shot back, without thinking. He winced, as soon as the words left him, opening his mouth to backpaddel.
But Grian only smiled. It was a somber smile.
“But it's Scar,” he said, as if that was all that needed to be said. Then he leaped out the van and took off in the air.
And maybe, Skizz thought, looking down at Impulse, preparing to drag his soul back, maybe it was everything that needed to be said.
Getting Impulse's soul back always took the longest. Skizz had plenty of experience in it to underline his statement. Plenty of times he had to do it. Alone, in dusty houses, under stairs or hidden in closets.
Still, there was probably never a time he had hurried himself as much as this time. And there had never been a moment where the time had dragged like this. Every second seemed drawn out, far too long.
His thoughts were racing.
How long had Grian already been gone?
Had he found Scar?
Was Scar alright?
Had they started another fight?
What if they had?
The ghost couldn't hurt Grian, he didn't have a soul.
But that also meant that if he got hurt , and Scar in his physical form was very well able to do that, then Skizz couldn't help him.
Couldn't bring him back.
“Focus,” Skizz told himself. Just to hear someone talk.
A bead of sweat ran down his neck from the pure effort it took to concentrate.
He couldn't tell how long it took but finally, finally , Impulse stirred.
“Hey there buddy,” he said, supporting his weight with one arm and using the other hand to frantically rub his eyes. A few tears escaped but Impulse didn't say anything.
He had seen Skizz cry plenty of times.
That wasn't the point.
“Where's Scar,” Impulse croaked, already moving to get up.
“Hey hey hey,” Skizz stopped him by firmly grabbing his shoulders. “Take it slow you were really out for a moment.”
For a brief moment his protectiveness over Impulse clashed into his worry for Scar.
They were his wards. Both of them. It was bad enough on the rare occasions when they had a small interpersonal fight. An attack hadn't been on the agenda yet.
The thought made Skizz squirm. His chest ached.
And his worry for Scar doubled.
“I dont know,” he muttered, helping Impulse to his feet. “Grian followed him.”
The demon took a wobbling step before he found his balance again, then he let go of Skizz's hands.
The angel allowed himself a second to breathe. A second to rub his face clear from the tears and let out a swallowed sob against the palms of his hand.
Impulse's arms wrapped around him in a grounding hug.
I should have been there.
No time for self pity.
“Okay,” he forced his breath out. Taking another breath in. “Let's find them.”
Just like he figured, Scar hadn't gone far. It would have been a real surprise if he had, considering the uneven ground and high amount of undergrowth.
To be fair they were rather slow themselves, but Impulse had been adamant about not staying in the van.
They heard them from afar.
There was no way anyone else could argue like that .
“Would you stop that!” Grian squaked and Skizz could see his red sweater between the trees up ahead. If anything, the avian sounded annoyed.
“Grian please ,” Scar sounded just as annoyed, but also a hint more desperate.
Skizz and Impulse hurried their steps.
“I don't want to hurt you so please let go of me,” Scar said again and his voice went almost pleading.
A few more steps and they had reached the clearing where Grian had pinned Scar to the ground, wings beating in a struggle to keep him there.
“You won't,” Grian yelled back and as if on cue Scar let out another wail. His body seized, head throwing back and Skizz could see the effort it took the little avian to hold him down.
After a few seconds it stopped.
Then Scar let out a sob.
“It's okay,” Grian soothed, clearly out of breath. “It's okay. They're gonna be here any moment. I'm not hurt. You hear me, Scar? I'm not hurt. They'll be here soon.”
He kept talking over the sobs and with a stab in his chest Skizz realized that Grian was talking about him and Impulse.
Finally, they reached the pair, him and Impulse both falling to their knees on either side of Grian.
He looked up, relief evident on his face.
“Hey, Scarface,” Skizz greeted him, brushing Scar's hair from his face so he could look at them properly.
Scar's eyes were bloodshot and teary.
Impulse tried to grab his hand, but Scar squirmed away. Or, he tried to, as good as he could with Grian sitting on his stomach and Skizz still brushing over his hair.
“No,” he croaked between another sob.
Impulse got the message though. His face went soft.
“I'm okay,” he promised. “I'm all okay.”
“‘m gonna hurt you again,” Scar sobbed.
Skizz exchanged a look with Impulse.
He wasn't wrong.
“Okay buddy,” he said, looking at Scar again. Dark green eyes looked up at him as if he were drowning and Skizz had just thrown him a lifeline.
That much trust made his chest ache, but Skizz pushed through.
“Breathe with me, Scar,” he coaxed, taking a deep breath himself.
After a few seconds, Scar followed suit.
Now that he stopped screaming and thrashing around, Skizz could feel it. He could feel every presence around him, he could feel Impulse and Scar and even Grian’s empty presence like the shell of something that was supposed to be there. But he could also feel another presence, almost completely hidden in Scar. Just faintly.
Another soul had latched onto Scar, and he had no idea how to fix that.
Just as he thought it, Scar started to move again. He howled in pain, cringing away.
Impulse jumped back in self preservation, but both Grian and Skizz kept with him. Skizz still cradled his hair trying to soothe the panic that leaked into Scar’s gaze.
“Breathe with me, Scar,” he ordered again, this time louder. Calmer. He let his instincts take over. “In and out buddy, you can do it. In and out.”
Scar nodded shakily, breathing with the count.
Then he seized again, this time letting out a louder shriek before he went slack again.
“You gotta get away,” Scar sobbed. He looked back and forth between his friends, green eyes wide and frantic.
“The ghost,” Impulse suddenly said, so close behind it made Skizz jump. “He’s too far from the haunt.” He grabbed Skizz's shoulder. “I’m sure it’s a demon. He got a farther reach but not that far. We need to bring him further.”
Skizz stared up at his friend, taking a few seconds to understand. Then he jumped up, startling everyone around.
“Alright, Grian get up,” he said. “Scarface, I'm gonna pick you up. Please keep it up.”
Grian and Scar both stared at him, confusion evident on their faces.
Which was fair. Impulse hadn’t been exactly eloquent in his explanation. But it was enough for Skizz to understand. The demon was still linked to that house, to that haunt. Scar had run away from the house and with that, the demon grew weaker. So if they just left…
“We gotta get him to the van,” Impulse said. “Scar we-”
“No!”, Scar cringed away as Skizz bent down to pick him up. He was clearly in pain but he tried his best to robb away. “If you touch me and it happens again-” His voice broke and he had to swallow a sob.
“I carry you,” Grian said. He crouched down, taking Scar’s hands in his. Gentle, as if any touch could shatter them.
Scar chuckled a little. It was a wet and sobering noise. He knew the odds of Grian, being almost a head shorter and rather petite even for an avian, carrying him.
“I’m getting the van,” Impulse said. “Stay here.” He exchanged a look with Skizz, then he hurried back.
Scar looked after him, his expression hard to read.
“Will that work?” Grian asked, looking up at Skizz from where he was still crouching next to Scar.
It took Skizz all his angelic skill to not fumble his words, to not let his voice tremble in anxiety because he didn't know . “We will find out,” he said. “If not, we’ll find something that does.”
It did work.
They felt it, when it did.
He and Grian, at least. Impulse had been the one driving. They had left in a hurry, with all their gear still out and about in the haunt. Impulse had driven the van straight through the undergrowth so Skizz and Grian only needed to haul Scar into the van, tuck him into one of the hammocks and sit down in their own.
Then they’d been on their way.
And after about 5 miles, Grian’s shoulders had relaxed. He had inched closer to the hammock, taking Scar’s hands again.
Scar had looked miserable. Sweat dripped from his bangs and tears in his eyes. Skizz had tried to clean some away with a handkerchief.
And of course, he had felt it too. He felt Scar’s soul settle in his body again as if a big splinter had just been lifted. In a way, that had happened.
“It’s over,” Skizz said in the softest tone he could muster. “You’re fine.”
Scar had nodded, breathing deep in and out, as if the motion didn’t hurt anymore.
Maybe it didn’t.
Still, they would get Tango to check him over. Just for good measure.
But not now.
Now, Scar would be allowed to sleep, knowing that his own soul was the only one attached to his body.