Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dying wasn’t at all like Richie expected it to be.

It felt like he was drowning, his lungs clutching for just a breath. The air around him was thick like he was surrounded in a pit of jello ( not a bad way to die). He clawed, trying and failing to reach out to something, anything.

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck’ he thought, trying so hard to cling onto some semblance of his situation. He knew he was dead, he had felt the blows against his head and the cuts seep until his veins went dry; but what he didn’t know was how he was still… there.

From the corner of his eye, he saw his body laying limp and ragged. He wanted to gag but no bile came up, he felt nothing. He just floated above himself as paramedics slowly made their way toward his body, moving as if time itself held them back. He wanted to scream at them, tell them to hurry up, that he was still here.

Nothing came out of his mouth.

He wanted to sob. To bang his hands against the floor like a crying child. He wanted to curl up against Ruth and Pete and let go of all his troubles, knowing that his friends always had his back.

He didn’t cry.

Ruth and Peter never came.

Instead, he felt a pull. Some sort of force commanding his spirit backwards down the hall. He didn’t fight it, unsure if he could even move in this state between dead and alive. Unsure if he cared what happened next.

He let himself be dragged through the doors, into the night air. He could hear the squad cars’s sirens blaring. He could hear the testimonies from the football players, each with an expression of terror and anguish on their face.

‘Do they really care?’ Richie mused. They had been kinder to him and the other nerds these past few week, but Richie was never sure how genuine people could be.

Two cops whispered in low voices as a detective hurried toward them. She began to speak, but her words were lost to Richie as he was pulled through the wall into the locker rooms.

He felt the force let go of him. Richie whirled about the room, trying to figure out why he was forced here. Then he spotted it.

His old suit, put back into its locker. The door hung open slightly, as if beckoning him in. Richie cocked his head at it, when was it put up? He left it on the floor in his escape for Jagerman. He doubted a jock would hang it up this neatly.

He then felt the pushing sensation again, this time much, much stronger. He raced towards the suit, desperately trying to shield himself, his movements strenuously slow.

He hit the costume head on.

He felt his spirit change and morph.

The feeling of being drowning in molasses was gone.

Richie opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

It was hours later when Richie finally mustered up the courage to move. The sirens had faded into the distance and all the students had cleared the campus. All that remained was the silence, occasionally broken by the croaking of frogs and the chirping of crickets.

Richie had spend those hours awkwardly crammed inside the locker, a situation he has been in multiple times before. He was larger now, his head twisted in an unhuman angle.

Was he even human still? He didn’t have a human body, but his spirit was still that of a human's, right? The body he was in was far from human, a prop of felt feathers and glassy, beady eyes. Richie could still feel, but nothing physically.

His mind swarmed. If he was still living, he would be having a stage 5 panic attack. He clasped his hand open and closed, the fingers feeling too long and light.

“Alright, focus!” He murmured to himself. His voice came out light and echoing, but Richie had never felt more relief from hearing his own voice. He turned his head, overcorrecting, causing his head to swivel a full 180.

“Shit!” He raised an arm to help move his head, centering it. He got a good look at it. The arm looked the same as it had hours ago when he was making a fool of himself on the field. With his hand, he gripped the side of the locker door and hauled himself out of it.

Richie immediately fell forward, not used to feeling so weightless. His costumed body barely made a sound. The room was pitch black, making it harder for Richie to gain his bearings. He grumbled, then forced both arms under him, pushing himself to his feet. He stumbled backwards, arms windmilling until they caught the locker. Using the locker to balance himself, Richie moved his feet underneath himself. They wobbled slightly, but hell Richie’s leg wobbled when he was alive. He let himself take a step forward.

“Alright, nice and slow. Just like ice skating.” Richie sucked ass at ice skating. But with enough focus and energy, he managed to take a few steps towards the light switch. Flicking it on, he immediately turned to look at his reflection. The sudden movement made his head do a full spin, landing slightly askew. He adjusted it, finally getting a good look at himself.

The costume looked the exact same. The same blue feathers, the same jersey that hung loose at the collar. The only thing slightly different was the expression of the nighthawk. It looked bewildered… Richie looked bewildered.

He ran a hand (wing?) against the beak, trying to open and close it. It barely moved.

“Hello?” Richie spoke aloud. The beak only opened slightly, like a puppet.

Everything was so damn wrong. His face, his body. He had experience dysmorphia, but this wasn’t the same. The thing he was now was inhuman. He wasn’t human. He could never experience the pleasures that came with being human. He could never talk to his uncle, his friends again.

The eyes of the mascot began to leak glowing black liquid.

Chapter Text

Ruth could not sleep all night.

Instead of tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken, she slung her legs off the bed and hoisted herself down. Tiptoeing, she snuck into the living room. On the couch was her Aunt Charlotte, sound asleep. She had come over a week ago after she caught her husband cheating with a young barista. Charlotte would spend most days smoking on the porch and crying in the shower. Pitiful.

Ruth crept past the living room into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she pulled out a box of Chinese take out, orange chicken and fried rice. She shut the fridge a bit too hard, causing Charlotte to stir slightly. Ruth quickly scampered back to her room. Flopping back onto her bed, she pulled out her phone and FaceTimed Richie.

The phone rung and rung, but no answer. Weird. Richie was notorious for being a night owl, especially on game nights. She called again, no answer. She resorted to text.

Richie Chan

Ruth: WAKE UP BITCH!!!

Ruth: IM BORED AND I WANNA WATCH K POP DEMON HUNTERS LIKE YOU SAID WE WERE!

Ruth: THERES HOT GUY AND GIRLS! I KNOW YOU LOVE HOT GUYS!

Ruth: ….

Ruth squinted at her phone. Richie never ignored her texts. Hell most nights Richie was the one waking her up. Did something happen at the game. She chewed the inside of her cheek, the metal of her braces making cuts in her skin. She pulled up the group chat.

Newton’s Whores

Ruth: Richie, you good man?

Micro Peter: I haven’t heard from him all night. Have you??

Peter is never awake this late, even on a weekend.
“A good night's rest results in less stress!” (Seriously, what did Steph see in him???)

Her phone buzzed. An unflattering photo of Peter’s forehead flashed on the screen with a call incoming text on the screen. She answered.

“Can’t sleep either?” Ruth mused. She was met with an exhausted sigh from the other line.

“Nope. Took two full melatonins. So I assume you haven’t heard from Richie?”

“No… texted and called. Nothing. Nada.” She felt her stomach churn, fear gripping her gut. “ Do you think something happened during the game? We left pretty early, what if the jocks beat the shit out of him or something?”

“I seriously doubt they would beat him up for no reason.” There was a sound on the other end, like Pete was rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“Look, he might just be tired or sick or something. We’ll see him at school. Then you two can geek about men or whatever.”

Ruth didn’t respond. She knew Pete was trying to make her feel better, but something still didn’t sit right.

She heard another sigh on the other end.

“I don’t think I’m going to sleep tonight. You wanna screen share a movie together?”

Chapter Text

Richie spent the weekend moving.

Pacing, bouncing his leg, scratching at the arm of his costume (his feathered hands made it seem like he was petting his arm. Fucking useless). He could not sit still.

He had a hard time sitting still when he was alive. When he was a kid, the teachers would always get onto him for his leg twitches. How they were “distracting” and “loud”. But the leg bouncing helped him focus, and it wasn’t even that loud right? So he ignored his teachers' nagging and was then declared Twitchie Richie for the rest of elementary school.

The leg bouncing didn’t help now. It was faster and harder, yet he was still stressed. I mean, who could he not be? He was dead, killed by the ghost of his high school bully. He just learned ghosts were real then he became on himself. Now he’s stuck in a Nighthawk costume for all of eternity.

Fucking fantastic.

Richie didn’t even have a plan. What would he do on Monday? The team would still have practice. They would notice a missing Nighthawk suit (apparently it was expensive, but anything to make the team look good). Could he even leave the locker room?

He wasn’t in the mood to try and leave. So he paced. Day and night he walked. Richie made it a point to not walk past the mirrors. He barely looked at his reflection at all, only trying one more time to change his facial expression. He tried every emotion he could think of. Happy, sad, angry. The mouth would only barely move and the eyebrows would squint slightly. Richie wasn’t a violent person, but the failure made him punch the mirror.

The mirror did nothing of course. He was weak, always has been. Glad to know he still kept some of his traits.

He found out he could cry as well. He could feel the inky black tears fall down his face before he even realized why he was crying. They left marks on the suit, giving him a retired animatronic look (not all that bad, he was a fnaf fan in middle school).

He had no interaction with humans the entire weekend, a feat he would have been fine with when he was living, but now made him feel upset and empty. Through the brick walls, Richie could hear cops murmur about his demise. A local news station reported the murder, going into details about him and Jagerman and how their loss will be a “monumental blow for the Hatchetfield community.” Apparently not the biggest blow in Hatchetfield, for the reporter immediately switched to talking about the game.

On Sunday night, there were different voices.

Richie had his head in his wings. It fit awkwardly in them, like the feathers couldn’t bend to hold it right. His mind was swirling, trying to figure out a plan, any course of action. He was so swept up he almost didn’t hear the voices.

“We really can’t be here,” a low male voice hissed, “This place is constantly monitored by cams. The pigs will be called.”

“I don’t care.” A sharper, louder male voice said. Richie knew that voice.

“Uncle Paul?” Richie whispered into his feathers, the sound echoed but quiet. He raced to the wall, leaning to hear.

“Paul… dude… I know you’ve been out of sorts these past few days, but breaking into a school locker room won’t help. If the pigs come, you might go to jail then who will get me my Chai Ice Tea.?”

“Please shut the fuck up!” Paul yelled, causing Richie to back up. Paul never yelled. He always said it made people seem weak, that a strong person didn’t need to yell to get his point across.

There was silence for a moment before the other voice spoke up.

“Look man, I understand what you’re going through. If this happened to Pete? Oh man let me tell you. His killer would be in 10 different places at once and I would be riding high straight to the loony bin, but Pete would still be dead. Richie is dead, Paul. It’s better to let go now.”

“DON’T YOU FUCKIN SAY THAT!” There was the sound of a punch being thrown followed by an audible gasp. There was more silence.

“I’ll go wait in the car.” The other voice murmured.

There was more silence. It felt claustrophobic to Richie, trapping him all sides, glueing him to the wall.

Finally he heard a small whimper.

“I’m so fucking sorry Richie. I should have been there. I-I promised to protect you.”

Richie heard a few sniffles, then felt the black liquid run down his face. Paul had always been so good to him. He got Richie out of a tough spot in life. Paul paid for his first binder. He helped Richie cut his hair short for the first time. Paul fought in court for custody, promising Richie a safe home, a good role model, and protection.

“None of this is you’re fault Uncle Paul,” Richie whispered, trying not to choke on his own words. He knew, of course, Paul could not hear him.

They sat like that for a good ten minutes. Then Richie heard the sound of Paul standing and walking away.

Chapter Text

“Wait, someone killed Richie?” Peter cried. The words were lost on Ruth as a fist clenched around her heart. Her ears blocked out the noise of the Detective. She could barely hear Steph and Grace next to her trying to cover their asses. Time seemed to move slower.

This was all her fault. This was all her fault. This was all her fault.

“Someone who maybe had a grudge against Nerdy Prudes?”

Those words snapped her out momentarily, then sent her mind wheeling again. Max. Max said he wanted Nerdy Prudes to die. But that’s impossible. He’s dead. He’s under the ground. His body is in pieces, Grace still had his nipples.

“Killer left a message. Written in the wall in your friend's blood. ‘Nerdy Prudes Must Die.’” The detective scanned over the four teens, Ruth could feel the pressure of her gaze squeezing her insides. She said something else, lost on Ruth. The other three nerds gave a collective “no” and Ruth joined unthinking.

One second Ruth was in the office with the cops, then next she was huddled in an empty classroom while the other nerds paced.

“Yes Ruth! We are fucked! For several reasons!” Stephanie spat. Ruth didn’t even remember saying anything. She just kept her knees close to her chest, desperately gulping the air. She could feel herself saying more things, not thinking, just responding. In her mind all she could think was

‘This is all your fault. This is all your fault. This is all your fault.’

People were screaming. Grace grabbed Ruth’s hair, but she barely noticed. She could hear herself saying something.

‘This is all your fault. This is all your fault. This is all your fault.’

She didn’t notice Grace drop her. She didn’t notice Grace leaving. She didn’t notice Pete’s hand on her back, trying his best to be comforting. She didn’t hear the whispers between Pete and Steph or the bell that rang for 2nd block.

She was alone. The classroom light turned off automatically, not detecting movement. She moved without thinking, her legs dragging her outside, past the football field, and in front of the men’s locker room. Her hand reached for the door, but her eyes caught the side of the building.

There were still traces of blood. Tiny flecks of red, populating the wall like stars. On the ground beneath it was a small Bendy and the Ink machine doll, a JJK action figure, and a picture of Richie and his Uncle Paul at comic con.

Tears welled up in Ruth’s eyes. Her hand released from the door handle. She couldn’t take this. She could be here.

‘This is all your fucking fault. You let this happen. You caused this.’

Ruth didn’t go to class that day.

Instead, she camped out in the light booth.

Chapter Text

Richie found himself inside a locker yet again,

The noise of boys talking and the squeak of sneakers proliferated around the locker room. The room seemed more melancholic, the weight of Max and Richie’s deaths hung in the air like Ax spray.

Richie peaked out through the small gaps in the locker. Football practice was over, the guys covered in sweat. On normal days, Richie wouldn’t want to interact with the team, choosing to shove himself in a bathroom stall to put his costume on. Today…. he wanted nothing more than to burst out of the locker and beg for them to talk to him, at the very least look at him.

Instead, he spent 4 hours in that locker. From the end of school to the end of practice, not daring to move an inch until the end of practice.

Finally the last player, Kyle, left. It was quiet again. Richie hated it.

He pushed the door open, gently unfolding himself till he was in a sitting position.

‘Would this be his life from now on? Shoving himself into lockers until the school burns down?”

Richie moved to a standing position, wobbling slightly. The floor was wet, a thick steam coating the locker room. Football guys couldn’t help but use all the hot water in the school. Richie could barely see an inch in front of him.

There was a noise, like a door opening.

Richie froze. The locker door had shut behind him and he would not have time to crawl back in.

Kyle rounded the corner, calling over his shoulder.

“Warm up the car, I’ll be back in a sec.” Kyle squinted, scanning the locker room, somehow not seeing the giant fuckin Zeke mascot. There was a long beep.

“Shit Jason! Give me a second!” Kyle turned his head to yell in Jason’s general direction. He stepped forward, slamming into Richie.

Kyle stared up, a confused expression populating his face. Richie couldn’t think. He vacillated between grabbing Kyle and shaking him like a rag doll and screaming “PLEASE TALK TO ME!” or staying still. He chose the latter.

“Is this some kind of fuckin joke?” Kyle stepped around the mascot, circling him.

“JASON, if this is a prank it’s not funny. Like not funny at all.” He stood in front of Richie again, getting on his tiptoes to peer into his eyes,

“Dude, Richie died not even a week ago. This is really insensitive you prick!” He pulled off the mascot head, expecting to see the grinning face of one of his team mates.

There was nothing there.

Kyle froze, eyes wide as dinner plates. He dropped the head. It rolled, stopping at Richie’s leg.

Richie panicked, then stupidly thought
‘Oh if I put my head back on, he’ll be less scared.’

The hulking mascot bent down, picking up the head, then twisting it back on.

Kyle’s mouth dropped. A scream escaped, scaring Richie, causing him to step forward.

Kyle ran, slipping on the wet floor and crashing into the locker. Richie took another step, trying to help Kyle. Kyle screamed again, crawling out the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR JASON!” Richie heard Kyle scream. Moments later the sound of tires screeching alerted Richie that they were gone.

Richie sagged. This is the opposite of what he wanted. But what did he expect? Them to just be cool with a huge ghost bird?

He sat on a bench, putting his head in his hands.

There was a scream.

It was too high to be Kyle.

It seemed to come from the school.

Chapter Text

Mrs Mulberry was screaming.

Ruth could barely hear it.

When she was younger, she drilled in the idea that no one would care when she died. That no one would show up for her funeral.

She was wrong.

Because below her was Mrs. Mulberry.

Crying over Ruth’s body.

Ruth didn’t know what to feel. She wanted to feel sick. Her body is literally under her, split open (hotdog style not hamburger). She could see her insides spilled out on the floor.

But she wasn’t sick.

She should be mad. Cut down in her youth. Especially moments after she performed a whole monologue, on stage, without breaking a sweat. She barely felt that rush of nauseating anxiety that came like waves whenever she got onto that stage. Her last thought before Max showed up was ‘Maybe… maybe someday I’ll be good enough to perform in front of a large audience.’ Ruth should be angry at Max, angry at the world for making her who she is, for her demise.

She wasn’t angry.

Instead, she felt truly hopeless. It caged her on all sides, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut.

Ruth would never be anything. Ruth would never go to college. Ruth would never win a Tony. Ruth would never settle down with a loving partner and own three cats all named after Supernatural characters.

She would just be Ruth: the kid who was murdered at 18. That girl who did nothing with her life because she was too afraid. That antisocial loser who died in our senior year.

She felt like she was being crushed. Each thought making her spirit smaller and smaller. She put what would have been her knees to her chest and screamed.

The lights flickered.

The paramedics looked up from their work.

Ruth didn’t notice.

She screamed louder and louder. The pain contorting her body, lifting her higher into the air. She screamed, praying the pressure would stop. That the feeling of hopelessness would subside and she could just DIE.

Light bulbs burst.

Sparks flew.

The paramedics scrambled back to dodge the glass and flame.

Then there was darkness.

Chapter Text

Richie left the lockers for the first time since he died.

He wasn’t even sure if he could. Countless horror movies had proclaimed ghosts can’t leave a certain area, specifically where they died.

Well Richie didn’t die in the locker room.

So, after the police sirens faded into the distance, he carefully pushed open the door, stepping out into the night.

The night breeze ruffled his feathers. The lights around the football field were turned off, yet the whole campus was bathed in starlight. It was like Richie was seeing the world in a new angle. Those nights alone in a dark locker room made the outside look like heaven. He just stood there, forgetting his mission, staring at the stars.

A heavy gust of wind knocked against his side, spinning him slightly. Snapped out of his daze, he caught something out of the corner of his eyes.

A small pile of things- Richie’s things.

‘Uncle Paul probably left these here,’ he thought. He bent down, picking up the bendy doll with a massive feathered hand. Paul had gotten him this doll the day he gained custody.

“Pick out any game you want,” Paul had said, gesturing toward the Game Stop. Richie stared up at him, awash with joy. He sprinted around the store, picking over hundreds of games, not fining any that particularly caught his eye.

That frustrated him.

‘I need to pick something out. If I don’t, Uncle Paul will think I’m ungrateful or spoiled. I can’t mess this up.’

So he searched the store two more times. Getting increasingly frustrated until he felt hot tears of shame prickle at his eyes. He turned away from Paul.

‘He can’t see me cry. I bet he hates me. I’m such a fucking burden.’

A hand gently touched his shoulder.

“Hey… buddy.” Paul had stammered. He wasn’t used to all this… kid stuff.

Richie turned to his Uncle, trying so hard to keep his tears from falling.

“Hey, look. Um.” Paul fidgeted with his hands. He glanced down at Richie, noticing the tears Richie failed to hide.

He bent down to Richie, a small, goofy smile lighting up his face.

“You don’t have to get anything if you don’t want to. I- I knows today has been rough for you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to pretend around me. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. My job is to be your guide and always protect you. And I will, no matter what.”

Richie barreled into Paul, crying into his neck. Paul patted him on the back.

They started to make their way out of the store before the Bendy doll caught Richie’s eye. He picked up it gently, silently handing it to Paul.

Paul looked like he was going to say something. Instead, he exhaled and smiled.

A black tear ran across the doll, startling Richie out of his flashback.

He gingerly set the doll down.

He looked up at the stars again, wiping his tears away with the back of his arm, before continuing towards the school.

Chapter Text

The door to the theater was covered in police tape.

Richie felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew two people who did theater: Trevor (his twin, but Richie hardly speaks to him) and Ruth. Max was still out for revenge.

He got Ruth.

Richie tore through the police tape, punching the door and entering into the dark auditorium.

Richie could barely see. The only source of light was a small lamp placed on the stage, a ghost light. It illuminated the stage, and in turn, the stains of blood already soaked into the wood. Other scraps of flesh and insides still riddled the stage, the cleaning crew obviously left in a hurry.

As Richie approached the stage, his heart sank when he saw a glimmer of metal in the wings. He hopped onstage, hands shaking as he approached the item. He didn’t even need to see it fully to know what it was.

Ruth’s headgear.

He dropped to his knees, an overwhelming feeling of grief washing over him, so powerful it stopped him from thinking.

*Creak*

The ghost light flickered.

Richie looked up slightly. Something moved on the wall in front of him. He cocked his head at it, unable to see.

He was then bathed in a wash of light.

He put his hand up, trying to shield himself from the light.

‘Fuck, is someone still here this late? Didn’t the police leave hours ago?’

“Who’s there? Who are you?” A voice echoed. It sounded scared, yet familiar.

“I’m sorry. I know all of this seems strange right now. I mean- I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. Why I’m still here. But please don’t freak out.” Richie stammered, trying his best to see who he was speaking to. The light got closer, brighter.

“Wait… Richie?” The voice echoed.

Holy shit.

“Ruth?”

The light dimmed, almost allowing Richie to gather his bearing, before a large creature slammed itself into Richie. Richie fell backwards on his back. The creature on top of him wrapped its arms around him.

“I’m so sorry Richie!” Ruth cried. “I should have been there. If I stayed longer this wouldn’t have happened. I was so worried about you. I tried to contact you for days!” I didn’t know. I was so stupid for not knowing!”

Richie was stunned. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t mad at her, that’s the last emotion he would be feeling right now.

He was so relieved.

“Ruth- Ruth… it’s okay. I’m okay.” He wasn’t, but it could be so much worse.

Ruth’s body clambered off of Richie’s, finally giving him a good look at her.

She looked like fuckin Mangled.

She had three heads, the largest one in the middle was a huge spotlight with a large crack down the center while the other two were smaller stage lights on long bending necks. Her six legs and torso were thin metal pipes. Small insect-like claws protruded out of the bottom of the pipe legs. Wires looped around her body, the longest on connecting to her middle head, wrapping around her torso, and falling to create a sort of tail.

Richie stared.

“Why couldn’t I get a cool ass ghost form!” He pouted.

Ruth giggled, her laugh echoing around the theater.

Richie pulled her into another hug.

Tears of joy and sadness leaked from his face.

Ruth sparked and shook in his grasp.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

They didn’t have school that Tuesday.

Pete wishes they did.

Cause maybe, maybe they wouldn’t be surrounded by demons if PE class was there.

The 5 creatures snarled and shrieked. Their bodies looked like gross interpretations of a human. The strangeness of it all made Pete’s stomach tumble.

“One of you must give up the thing you cherish about all else.” The green one grinned, his unnaturally yellow eyes dancing across the three nerds that lay at his feet.

What he cherishes most?

In a perfect world, that would mean giving up his Pokémon cards or anime figures.

Sadly, Peter lived in the opposite of a perfect world.

The yellow, goat-like demon laughed maniacally as the green demon pulled back Pete’s hair. He shuttered. Steph was staring at him. Her eyes wide. Pete knew he wore a similar expression. He looked down at the gun in her hand.

‘I couldn’t. There’s no damn way!’ Peter swallowed.

The demons did some more strange dancing, the yellow one staring into his soul the entire time. Pete looked past the strange demons and noticed something strange.

On the top of the bleachers stood two figures.

The lights changed, throwing the three back into darkness. The demons were gone.

Peter looked over and Steph. She held the gun in her shaking hands.

“Steph…. Who do they want you to kill?”

Steph turned her beautiful brown eyes to him. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.

“Pete, I think we need to talk.”

“HEY NERDS!” A loud, echoing voice boomed from the rafters.

Jagerman sat on a beam, his red eyes manic. His translucent skin glowing in the dark gym.

“WELCOME TO GYM CLASS!” Max dropped, gripping the beam with his hands. He kicked his feet, swinging him back and forth. “Today we’re playing kickball! My foot, YOUR BALLS!”

He dropped, landing in the center of the three.

Steph grabbed his arm, pulling him in the dark. Out the double doors and into the night. They sprinted. The cold night air cut at Peter’s lungs.

He slouched over, putting his hands on his knees. Motion sensor lights popped on, drenching the football field in an orange light. Grace was nowhere to be found.

Steph paced in front of him, legs shaking and hands in her hair. She was saying something, but her words jumbled together.

Pete came to a horrible realization. “It doesn’t matter where we go, he’ll always find us,” he mumbled, just loud enough for Steph to hear. His breath shook, trying to keep a brave face but failing. His lip quivered.

“There’s only one way to end this.”

Steph still wouldn’t meet his gaze, but Peter heard her gasping for air. Even now, she looked so pretty.

“I- I know what those… things want you to do.”

Steph finally turned to him, a soft “no” escaping her lips. Her mascara ran, her cheeks were red, eyes puffy. Peter wanted nothing more than to hold her and stay like that forever.

He pushed. “All my life, I just wanted a girl to like… to love me, but I guess it’s not all roses huh. He took off his glasses, wiping his eyes.

Steph turned from him again, yelling into the night. No one would answer her cries.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT SPANKOFSKI!” She cried. “I-I just wanted to cheat off of a geek. I didn’t want to like you, you… made… me.” She sobbed, shoulders shaking.

“Well…. Well I refuse!” She turned back to him, a small fire in her eyes. “You give up what you want! Your… Pokémon cards or- or you comics or-“

“It’s you Steph.” Steph turned to him. He watched the fire in her eyes die as fresh tears spilled down her face. “I’m into you. No matter what, one of us has to die. And not just to save the other, to save everyone.”

He thought back to Richie and Ruth. How he couldn’t save them. It was Pete’s fault they got into this mess. If he had never let Steph cheat, they would all still be here studying for their Bio quiz. But, if he hadn’t let her cheat, Pete would never know Steph the way he did now.

He knew what he had to do.

“Let me do it.”

Steph shook her head, crumpling to the ground. Pete was there to meet her, taking her into his arms. They cried together.

“You can’t. I can’t let you. I-I’m n-not worthy to live.” Steph sobbed to his shoulder.

“Yes you are. You are going to do amazing things. You are so much smarter than you think you are, and I love you for that.” Steph pulled away to meet his eyes.

She pulled him into a kiss.

“I’m ready.” He whispered.

He helped Steph up, forcing himself to turn away from her.

“Hey Steph, if things were different, would you want to go to homecoming with me?”

He heard the safety turn off, then a small sniff.

“I’d like that Pete… I’d really like that.”

“Cool.”

He sat there, replaying the image of Steph’s beautiful face over and over in his mind.

The gun fired.

Peter crumpled over.

Chapter Text

Richie and Ruth heard the gunshot from the gymnasium.

Max writhed in their grasp, a huge, unnatural grin splitting his face.

“And another nerd falls.”

Richie and Ruth were silent. ‘What the fuck was he talking about?’ ‘Who would kill Pete or Steph or Grace other than Max?’ ‘Didn’t they all run?’

Max wiggles, releasing himself from the two ghosts. He lands a punch to one of Ruth’s extra heads, causing it to blink rapidly.

He smirked. “Even in death you two are fuckin freaks.”

He moved to kick Richie, but stopped halfway. His pupils dilated as his eyes flickered around. He screamed, yelling at some voice neither Ruth nor Richie could hear. The floor underneath him opened and multicolored arms pulled him down into a black void.

“THIS IS ALL YOUR FUCKIN FAULT YOU FUCKING PRUDES.”

The hole closed behind him. There was only silence.

Ruth stared up at Richie. “What did Max mean when he said ‘another nerd falls?’” Did we miss something? Did those…creatures tell them something?

Richie rang his hands together. From their vantage point, neither of them could hear what those weird human-like creatures were saying. “I don’t know, but I think we should check it out.”

The two dead crept their way into the night. The skylights of the football field were on, and bathing in them was Steph kneeing in front of the corpse of a Peter Spankofski.

Steph was on her phone, begging someone to help her. Her face was a mess of makeup and tears. She didn’t notice the two large entities. They didn’t notice her either.

Instead they stared at a spirit.

The spirit was electric blue. It didn’t stay one shape, slightly twisting and contouring slowly. It had no legs, a long wisp substituted, twitching every which way.

Was that what they looked like out of these bodies?

The spirit looked around frantically, moving like it was changing frame rate. Then, it began to sink. It gave a silent scream, grasping at his wisp tail. He was waist down in the ground when a flash of white appeared next to him.

Ruth and Richie covered their eyes (Ruth had a very hard time doing that) as the white light dimmed. Where it once shined was a preteen girl. Her hair was stark white and her skin pale as death. She wore a white sweatshirt and black sweatpants.

The girl reached towards the spirit, grabbing it by the head and pulling it up. She then grabbed the tail. She raise out her free arm and placed the tip of the tail in like an IV.

The spirit stopped twitching and twisting. It now resembled a human.

Peter.

“My my Peter. It was hard getting you back from my brother’s claws.” The girl smiled up at Pete, who gawked at her.

“What? How? Who are you?” Pete stammered, running a hand through his hair.

The girl gave a small chuckle. “You can call me Webby. My brothers are those demons you talked to earlier. They were dead set on dragging your soul to the Black and White, but I managed to convince them you're better off here.”

Pete stared, jaw moving. “So… I’m a ghost?”

“That’s your decision.” Webby’s expression changed to one more serious. “You can move on, or you can stay here. With them.”

She motioned to the dark shadow where Richie and Ruth hid. He tilted his head, then his eyes widened.

“Ruth? Richie?”

The two ghosts nodded their heads.

Pete flew forward, his tail still, attached to Webby. He tried to embrace the two, instead flying through them. He turned sheepishly.

“Missed you too Pete.” Ruth mused, her lights flickering, tail wagging.

Pete’s smile dropped. “You guys I’m so sorry. I couldn’t save you two. This was all my fault. I-“

“Respectfully, shut the fuck up.” Richie laughed. “Yeah you fucked up, but who could have guessed all this shit would happen? We’re still here. Yeah it’s a little hard not to freak people out, but I have Ruth to spend the rest of eternity with.”

Ruth elbowed him lovingly. Pete relaxed, shoulders hunching slightly.

“So Pete, you wanna stay with them or move on?” Webby tapped her foot, looking slightly anxious.

Pete glided over to her. “What’s the afterlife like?”

She gave a bitter smile. “Not entirely sure. I may be a goddess, but my domain doesn’t include the realm of death. I’d like to imagine there’s something beyond, but I’m not sure.”

Her eyes looked distant. She chewed her lip. “I also kinda need you to stay here.”

“Why?” Pete furrowed his eyebrows.

“That girl, Grace Chasity, has the black book. I sense darkness in her heart. Darkness that she is unwilling to face head on. She will use the power of that book to bring destruction to Hatchetfeild, possibly the whole world. I need you five to stop Chasity and bring me the black book.”

“Wait wait wait. Five?” Richie interjected.

Webby smiled brighter, kinder. “My prophet, Hannah Foster. She will help you four defeat the darkness.” She turned back to Pete. “So… what do you say?”

Pete looked behind him. Steph was in the arms of detective Shapiro. She cried into the woman’s shoulder as Shapiro called for backup.

He loved Steph so damn much.

“I’ll stay here and fight.” He claimed.

Webby gave him a smile of relief. She then plucked Pete’s tail out of her arm. His form began to move again.

As she held the tip, she muttered.

“Richie died finally accepted my the ones around him.”

“Ruth died wishing she could be more.”

“But you Pete, you sacrificed yourself to save the ones you cared for most. You died wanting to be cool, and in my opinion, succeeded. Your death was not a grand or gory one, the it was probably one of the most important ones. You always claimed you wanted to be invisible, but you died knowing you were seen by the one you loved.”

Webby nodded to herself. “I got it.” She shut her eyes as a bright white light enveloped Pete.

Then she was gone.

The light faded.

Pete floated there, no longer an entity of blue light.

But instead a being made of wilted petals and wood.

His clothes were made of daffodils and marigolds, their shine worn and gray. His hair was black rose petals. His lips and mouth pink rose petals, wrinkled and dead looking. His glasses and eyes replaced by huge white lillies, the only thing that didn’t look wilted. His face, hand, and feet were wooden, branches looping on top of each other to create a shape. Two long branches stuck out of Pete’s head like horns.

He was terrifying yet beautiful.

Ruth and Richie stared at him. If they had them, their mouths would be wide open.

Pete gave a glance over to Steph. She was gone. His body was gone.

He faced his two friends again.

“You guys ready to save the world?”

Chapter Text

Hey folks! Visual here!

Thank you guys for so much for all the feedback and comments!

This has been a passion project for me, and I’m so grateful to all of my readers!

So, let’s do a Q&A!

You can ask questions for the characters, for me, etc.

All I ask is to keep it SFW. I wanna keep the teen rating.

Have a great day and I hope to here from Y’all soon!!

Quick edit: thank you for those who have already responded. I just need a few more questions. If you’ve already asked one, you can ask more. No chapter tonight, one or two tomorrow!

Chapter Text

Hey guys!

Thanks to the people who submitted questions! I wanted to answer these question before the next chapter so here we go!

@thebookwormbitch asks “Is Hannah going to be alive or a ghost?”

I’m a cruel person, but Hannah will live. She’s going to have powers and stuff. If she did die (I’m not planning on killing her, this is just an idea (for now)) she wouldn’t be a ghost, more like an angel.

@rake_rattrap asks “Is Steph going to be a ghost too??? Or just a human who can see the ghosts?”

Everyone dies someday :)) I jest. Steph can see the ghosts ‘possessed’ forms. Everyone can, like when Kyle caught Richie. I am working in a mechanic for their true spirit forms (just their spirits, no physical body), and Steph can see Pete’s!

@unintentionalloctopus asks “what, if anything, inspired you to give the ghosts physical bodies? and did you have any other ideas for ruth, richie, or pete’s ghost bodies that you decided not to go with?”

The whole concept started with me thinking ‘Richie and Ruth needed more screen time.’ I felt they needed more to do. Also, the world introduced ghosts with Jagerman, so why can’t Richie and Ruth be ghosts too?

Then I thought ‘A normal ghost form would be so boring.’

I remember rewatching NPMD and got the the whole ‘I love being alive speech’ and was like…. Oh shit… oh shit :)

Richie started all of this, thank you Jon Matteson.

I wanted to give Ruth a possessed form too. This one was a bit harder. I was going to make her like a Phantom-esk ghost. Then I saw some post with Mangle from Fnaf. Then I remembered Ruth runs the lights. Put em together and what have ya got? Possessed Ruth!

I did fiddle with the specifics of Ruth. She was going to only have one head on a very large neck. She was going to be a huge wire coil snake light. Then only have two front legs. She might have had spider-like legs that came out of her back. I like her design now cause it’s easier for me to write.

Pete was a struggle. I had to rewind parts of NPMD to try and find anything for Pete. I was going to make him a goat creature, but I wanted the possessed forms to be something different and I didn’t want Pete to be associated with Tinky after Webby saved him. Pete talks about being invisible, so I was going to do that, then slapped myself cause ghosts are usually invisible. Then I had an idea with mirrors? Like him covered in mirrors to symbolize him trying to be invisible and reflect what people wanted.

Then I thought more about him sacrificing himself willingly. And how his body would probably be the only one buried (Richie is in pieces and Ruth got split in half. I think the police would want to hold onto their remains for as long as possible). So, what do you put on a grave? Flowers.

I had a really fun time answering these questions and would love to do this again! Leave questions in any chapter and I will make another Q&A!!

Chapter Text

Steph hasn’t spoken a word in weeks.

A large weighted blanket draped over her shoulders as the plate in front of her went cold. She could hear two women’s muffled voices from the doorway of the cramped, but cozy home.

Steph had large eye bags. Her hair was frazzled and greasy. She hasn’t put on makeup in weeks, not even to the funeral. She was almost as pale as Pete was, and her hollow skin made her look skeletal.

Almost like she died too.

The front door closed as Steph’s mother entered the room. She was a kind looking person, no sharp edges. Her hair was short and wavy. Her eyes were olive green, filled with kindness and pity for her daughter. Steph had no idea how her father fell in love with her. They were two very different people.

Steph’s mom sat on the edge of the couch, not reclining into it. She tapped her index fingers together, a worried look on her face.

“Steph, honey. I really need you to eat something. You didn’t touch your breakfast, at least have some lunch.”

Steph looked down at her plate. It was leftovers. Homemade chicken pesto pasta. Steph didn’t know the last time she had a home cooked meal. Solomon was a ‘fend for yourself’ kinda guy. So DoorDash it was.

Steph picked up the fork and moved the pasta around. Her stomach ached for food yet she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. She set the fork down, defeated.

Her mother gave a small frown, the worried look getting deeper. “That was Detective Shapiro. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” She paused, giving Steph a look to gauge her reaction. “Another boy went missing after homecoming, but at least we know it wasn’t because of the man who shot your…” Mrs Lauter tried to think of the right words, giving up when she saw the tears well up in her daughter’s eyes.

‘We were supposed to go to homecoming.’

’I killed him instead.’

Steph shouldn’t be here. She rather be rotting in a prison than at her gentle mother’s house because that’s what Steph deserved. Instead, Shapiro made up a story of a crazed man living in the Witchwood. He was the one behind all the murders. The police told the public the man was shot and killed. No one questioned them.

But it was all Steph’s fault.

She hunched over, shoulders shaking. She felt her mother rub her back in little circles.

“Sweetheart… I know you’ve been through so much and I cannot imagine the pain you must be in right now, but you also need to take care of yourself. You’re still here, today. That’s a gift!”

It wasn’t, but Steph said nothing.

“Look, Steph. Christmas break is almost over, and I really want you to go back to school. I’m sure you can do great things, it’s just, you need to finish strong!”

Steph stared at her like she had just asked her to drown a puppy. Go back to the place where she killed her soulmate?

Steph stood, dragging the blanket with her and sped walked to her room. She hear her mother exhale before shutting the door.

Stephanie stood in the middle of her barren room.

Everything was wrong. She was wrong.

She stood there and cried.

Cried for her dad.

Cried for Max.

Cried for Ruth and Richie.

Cried for Pete.

Cried for herself.

*knock knock*

Steph went quiet. The knocking came again from her window. Slowly, she turned to face the glass. No one was out there.

She walked closer, expecting someone to jump out at her. Instead, she noticed something small and dark green on the sill.

Cracking open the window, she picked up a small, dead four leaf clover. It was as wide as a fingernail with a stem that ran down to her palm. Though dead, it still kept so much of its color.

Steph always loved clovers.

A blister of air made something else on the windowsill move. Steph picked it up. It was a small piece of paper.

‘Steph,
I know things have been difficult but I need you to come back to school. We need to talk… and I miss you.’

Steph nearly dropped the paper, putting a hand to her mouth as chocked back a gasp.

The note was written in Pete’s hand writing,

Chapter Text

Being a ghost was rough.

It took Pete a solid hour to learn how to move up and down. Another two hours to realize that he literally can’t walk. It’s either floating or staying still on the ground. The latter wasn’t entirely useless. If he managed to crouch, he could easily blend into shrubs around campus.

He also had a hard time with wind. Wind was a challenge when he was alive, him being eighty pounds soaking wet and all. But when you’re made up of a bunch of small, lightweight petals, the wind is going to be your worst enemy.

Luckily, it was winter break, meaning Pete didn’t have to stay outside in the wind, hands dug into the ground to keep him from flying away. He also didn’t have to worry about getting caught.

Pete knocked on the locker room door. There was no answer. Pete sighed and knocked harder, his hand too light to make much noise on the thick door. He decided to just wait for Ruth, hoping she wasn’t inside already.

Pete floated over to the side wall. He pressed himself fully against the wall so that only his arms, legs, and face looked three dimensional. It was a cool trick Pete learned to do. It made him feel stable, like he wasn’t just a construct of unconnected material that could easily be swept away.

He was tired, it was a good tired, like the kind you feel when you do something fulfilling. He saw Steph. The sight of her made Pete’s dead heart stir. She looked so broken. He wanted nothing more than to break open the window and pull her into his arms again. To never let go.

Then he felt that pull, physically dragging him back to campus. It was something he couldn’t fight. Even if he tried, the trip out to her house had made him weak.

The longest he was able to resist was an hour. That day, he had visited his parent’s grave. Their headstones were covered in snow. Next to it was an uncovered stone, its marble fresh and clean.

Peter ‘Piotr’ Spankofski.
Beloved son and brother.

Pete had felt a nauseating sensation as he stared down at his own grave. The place where his own body now resides.

He had turned to leave when he heard footsteps nearby. From the shadow of an old elm tree was the Homeless Man from downtown. He was looking directly at Peter, but he didn’t look afraid. He insisted gave a nod to Pete, before retreating out of the cemetery.

“Hey dorkus! Can’t open the door again?”

Pete snapped out of his daze to see Ruth hobbling in his direction. Her light bounced off the fresh snow, making her seem even more ethereal. Her head on her left was peering behind her, the right one gazing at Pete, the damage barely visible from Max’s attack. Ruth was a wizard when it came to repairing lights and tech, so the damage was easily fixed.

Pete let go of the wall as Ruth pulled the door open. The locker room was dim, yet cozy. Richie sat in the corner with a sketchpad and pencil he stole from the art room. Next to him was an old Chromebook the tech department threw out.

Richie looked up from his work, his beak pulling back slightly into a mimic smile. “How was your date Pete?”

Pete blushed, small cherry blossoms blooming and dying on his cheeks. “I left her the note. I’m not sure if she will listen or not…. I don’t blame her if she doesn’t want to come back.” He rubbed the back of head, black rose petals falling to the floor before being replaced by new ones.

“Well we need her in order to stop Grace.” Ruth hopped onto a bench like a cat and began to pace. “That one guy, who’s always in a hurry, hasn’t been seen in days.”

“There were also reports of a mysterious man in a green suit breaking into the mall last night.” Richie turned the Chromebook to face Ruth and Richie. The man looked exactly like the leader during the Summoning, like he was wearing a skin suit.

Wiggly.

“Have you done any research on that Hannah girl?” Pete asked.

Richie’s slanted eyebrows furrowed slightly. “All I know is she used to go to Sycamore two years ago before her mother was arrested for possession of drugs. Nothing since.”

The three ghosts gave each other worried looks.

How were they supposed to do this without Hannah?

Chapter Text

Hannah hated school.

She never fit in at Sycamore Middle, the kids would call her names and pin her against lockers. In their eyes she was a freak. They weren’t too far off.

Hannah stared out the window as they drove down the icy road toward Hatchetfield high. The world was washed in white, a color she has beeping seeing more and more frequently.

Every night for a month, Webby would show her visions. Visions of people, mostly men, going missing. Visions of the Lords in Black slinking around Hatchetfield, only causing general mischief, but Hannah knew it would get worse.

She saw visions of three dead bodies.“They will help you in your mission.” Webby would say, never quite clarifying how. The bodies were always followed by the image of a teenage girl holding a gun. “She will help too.” These snapshots frustrated Hannah. She needed more context. How would three dead people and an emo help her take down five demons?

The car came to a stop, the engine humming softly.

“You have your schedule and everything?” Duke Keane worried in the driver seat. He always worried for her. Ever since he took her in, he’s always making sure everything is shipshape.

Hannah didn’t say anything. She couldn’t tell him about the Lord’s invasion and how Webby sent a fucking fifteen year old to stop it. She just swallowed.

Duke gave Hannah a small reassuring smile. “I know you're nervous for your first day here, but I promise it will all be okay. I reached out to most of your teachers and they will help you anyway they can, okay?”

Hannah still didn’t say anything, a tight feeling of dread filling up the pit in her stomach. Duke bit his bottom lip. “This is a lot isn’t it? You’ve gone through a lot and now I’m throwing you back into school. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to do right by Lex.”

Hannah forced herself not to tense up at the name of her sister. Her sister who was on the run with her boyfriend for something they didn’t do. Lex had left Duke a text before going off the grid, explaining what to do with Hannah. So far, Duke had followed everything to a T. Hannah was grateful for that.

She gave Duke a fake smile. “I’m all good, just a bit nervous.” She opened the door and hopped out the car before Duke could say anything. “Bye Duke, see you at Three!”

The hallways were jammed packed with people so much bigger than her. Lex and Hannah had always been on the small side, and now Hannah felt like David surrounded by Goliaths. She rushed to her locker, quickly shoving her stuff inside before the bell rang. Hannah covered her ears, everything was so loud. She scampered down the hall into her first class; wood shop.

The man at the front of the class seemed to pay her no mind. “Alright class, welcome back.” The small name tag on his desk read Tom Huston. He looked like a Tom. “Today we are starting on our next project. I want you guys to pair up and begin designing your every own birdhouse.”

Students began to shuffle around, finding their friends and huddling together. Hannah despised group work. In middle school, she would always do the assignments by herself, the other students avoiding her like the plague.

Hannah scanned the room before she noticed another girl. She was a good bit older than Hannah, probably a senior. Strangely, the whole class seemed to be avoiding her, giving her looks of pity and whispering behind their hands.

Hannah recognized that girl.

She looked slightly different. Her eyes darker. Her skin pale and hollow. She body slumped slightly.

But there was no mistaking it.

She was the girl with the gun.

Chapter Text

Ruth was the only one that could be in the main school building.

Richie was way too noticeable and Pete was too afraid of falling apart or being stepped on or being thrown out.

Which left Ruth to survey the halls.

She was quite good at it. No one really had a reason to look up at the ceilings and some parts of the school had high raised ones. So Ruth basically had free rein.

She scurried down the main hallway. Last block had started a few hours ago. The halls were quiet, making Ruth’s job easier.

From her vantage point, she could inside the little windows on the doors to the classroom. She strained to look inside her old Bio classroom. In the front of the class was Mrs. Mullberry, looking a lot more frazzled than she used to.

Sitting directly in front of her was Grace Chasity. Her hand raised, a large smile on her face. She looked so carefree, like her friends didn’t die and she was killing innocent people and unleashed the apocalypse. Ruth wanted to break down the door and shake her until she sniped out of it, but she’s not who Ruth’s here for.

The center light went dark as the one on her right flickered on. She careened her longer neck towards the small window. Now she could see the back of the class. She saw Brenda and Kyle flirting in the corner. Stacy sat close to them, scrolling on her phone. There was one person missing.

Sitting in the other corner was Stephanie. She looked terrible. She was staring straight ahead, her eyes not focused on anything in particular. The old confidence was gone, now Steph looked shy and quiet.

Ruth bent her neck back into place, her middle light turned back on. Ruth had done her job: make sure Steph is at school and okay. The ladder part may not be true, but it would be comforting to Pete to know that she was here.

She began to make her way to the theater when she heard a small gasp behind her. Ruth froze ‘Fucking damn it.’

She turned slowly to face Hannah Foster. The girl looked like she had been crying, red rimmed her eyes. She looked so tiny.

She looked up at Ruth with huge eyes. Ruth panicked, not knowing whether to run away or talk to her.

Then Hannah’s eyes turned pure white, only for a moment.

“You must be Ruth Fleming.”

Chapter Text

Why did Richie have to be the mascot?

If he knew he would be shut in a locker for hours at a time for safety reasons,… he would have probably laughed and call you insane. Let's be real here.

But now he has to endure more than ten hours of locker time per day. That’s like half the day shoved in a cramped dark box while people constantly go in and out.

Luckily, football practices had been canceled for the time being. Grace has gotten to three players, including Jason the running back. The lockers were mostly used as an escape room for the football players to do homework or make out with people.

So in the locker Richie stayed.

He stayed put an hour after the bell rang, just in case, before carefully sliding out into the darkness. He flipped the light switch on then grabbed the old laptop from its hiding spot on top of the lockers.

There was a knock on the door about five minutes later. It was faint.

Pete floated in the doorway. He looked so tired somehow. The bark that made up his face seemed darker.

“The fuck happened to you?” Richie asked.

Pete gave him a halfhearted glare. “Been moving around all day. Trying to find Steph. Didn’t see her go out to her car.” Pete looked longingly into the mirror.

“We get it Romeo you love Steph. There’s fucking demons on the loose.”

Just as Richie spoke, the door was thrown open.

“GUYS GUESS WHO I FOUND!”

Ruth tumbled into the room, dancing around on her six legs. All of her faces were bright as suns. She turned back towards the door and gave a little ‘tada!’ motion with her front legs.

A young girl with light brown pigtail braids entered. She was tiny, her clothes too big on her. She wore a large baseball cap that shaded her eyes.

Pete and Richie gaped.

“You didn’t kidnap her did you?!” Pete raised an eyebrow.

Hannah took another step inside, wary of the ghosts. “No. I go to Hatchetfield high now. I take it you two are also here to help me?”

Richie folded his arms, hunching slightly. “More like you're helping us. I think we know more about the situation than you do.” He challenged.

Hannah smirked, then tipped her face upward so the shadow of the cap wasn’t blocking her face.

The ghosts watched as Hannah’s honey amber eyes turned stark white. They looked Richie up and down, causing Richie to shiver.

“Your name is Richard Lipshitz. Age eighteen. Was way into Attack on Titan.” Hannah furrowed her brows slightly. “You were adopted by your Uncle Paul. He misses you greatly, but he is finding solace in the barista from Beanies.”

Her eyes switched back to amber.

Richie’s beak dropped as far as it could go.

Hannah looked exhausted, but kept her face. “If we want to stop Grace and the Lords, we need to work as a team.”

“We need Steph.” Pete quipped. Richie saw Pete’s demeanor change to something more hopeful.

Hannah smiled at him. “I can get her here.”

Chapter Text

Hey guys!

So this fic is going on a mini hiatus.

I want to organize some of my ideas a bit better. I want to fix some of the upcoming chapters and fix some of the plot.

I will be updating my other fic so check that out!

Chapter Text

Steph fucking hated school.

First grade all the way to high school she loathed her time at school.

“But Steph, these are the best years of our lives! You have to enjoy them. When you become a sad old grandma you’ll look back and reminisce on all the good times you had.”

Bull shit. Nothing was fun about school, especially high school.

But it somehow got worse.

These past few days, Steph has never felt so alone. She was never popular per se, but she garnered a small crowd, mostly because her dad’s the mayor.

But now her dad’s dead. Now she is just a lonely loser with no power. A loser whose boyfriend got murdered right in front of her.

Every day she would get pitiful looks from her classmates. She would watch them hide behind their hands and whisper. Make up rumors about her being the murderer.

They weren’t wrong.

At least school hasn’t been totally awful. Recently, a sophomore girl in her woodshop class has been attached to her hip. She was quiet, but talked to Steph about her sister and her foster dad. Hannah never asked Steph anything personal, never insinuated anything. They would just talk in the back of the classroom and make shitty wood projects together.

Steph waited at the back table. Her hair was a mess, not combed since yesterday. Her clothes were wrinkled and felt too baggy. She had not bothered with make up, who cares anymore?

Hannah silently sat down in the chair next to her. Steph hadn’t even noticed her coming in.

The amber eyed girl gave Steph a small smile. “I finished drawing up the plans for the doll house. I’m not a great artist, but I used the old Waylon place as a reference.”

Steph visibly shuttered at the name. The place where everything went wrong. Where her life was ruined. “Can… Can we base the house off anywhere else?” Steph stuttered. She clutched her thigh, digging her nails in flesh.

Hannah shot her a worried look. “Um, yeah sure. We can do it off one of the old mansions in Pinebrook.” Hannah said, her expression changing to one more easygoing. “I’ll pull up a reference photo while you get some materials.”

The two of them spent the class period bent over their project. Hannah told Steph about a time when Duke had accidentally let Hannah watch Midsommar without knowing it was a horror movie. “I’d seen worse but I’ve never heard anyone apologize so profusely.” Steph chuckled.

The bell rang. It was the last class of the day. Steph gathered her stuff and prepared to speedwalk to her car when she felt a tug on her shirt.

“Hey Steph, can we talk about something?” Hannah stared at her with those big eyes.

Steph fidgeted. “I really wanna get home Banana.”

“This is important.” Hannah’s tone turned serious. Steph swallowed. She didn’t want to stay at school longer than needed, but Hannah made this seem important.

She sighed. “Fine. What’s up Hannah.”

“We can’t talk here.” Hannah glanced around before grabbing Steph’s wrist and pulling her into the hall. For someone so small Hannah had a firm grip.

They made their way outside. The snow had relented, now sitting at five inches. Steph struggled to keep her footing as Hannah cut right through it like a blade.

They finally stopped. Steph leaned to catch her breath, the air feeling like tiny razors in her lungs.

“We’re here.” Hannah turned to Steph, her eyes bright. “This may be a lot to take in, but we need you.”

“We?” Steph asked. Hannah paid her no mind. She pulled open the locker room door.

“Come on in.”

Chapter Text

The locker room was dim. All the lights were off and there were no windows. The only light source came from the creature in front of Steph.

Steph shrieked. The metal amalgamation flinched at the loud noise. Something behind her moved too. The dead-eyed Zeke suit moved towards Steph and Hannah, its movements unnerving and inhuman.

Steph scrambled to the door. ‘Hell the Fuck no!’ She thought. She already dealt with demons once, she was good for a while.

Hannah moved to block the door. “Stephanie! Everything’s okay!”

Steph’s heart pounded. The lights flickered on. She turned around slowly to face the strange creatures. In the fluorescent lights they looked slightly less terrifying.

“What the fuck are those?” Steph asked.

The wire creature tilted its head up at Steph. “I thought Hannah told you?”

Steph’s blood went cold in her veins. “Ruth?”

“I kinda sort of forgot to tell her.” Hannah stepped into the room, rubbing her head.

The nighthawk costume folded its arms across its chest. “Well it would have been easier if you had told her.”

Richie.

“Well sorry dude! I have classes and stuff to worry about.” Hannah retorted back. The three of them argued.

Steph didn’t hear any of it.

Ruth and Richie were still here. Still… alive? How? Is it because the school is a black altar? If Ruth and Richie died yet are still here than…

“Where’s Pete?”

The argument stopped. Three faces turned to Steph.

She spoke again, louder. “Where’s Pete?”

The ghosts looked at each other. “He might still be outside.”

Steph ran out before Richie finished his sentence.

The cold air cut Steph’s cheeks raw. She stumbled in the snow, running to god knows where. Her sight became bleary, yet she kept going. Kept running.

Till she was standing in the middle of the football field.

She heaved, not able to get enough air. Yet she yelled out.

“PETE!”

Silence. The snow crunched under her feet. She called again and again until her voice went horse.

Nothing.

Steph crumbled to her knees, silently sobbing. Of course Pete wasn’t here. He was probably truly dead.

Even if he wasn’t, why would he see her? Steph killed him.

Steph screamed into her hands, her voice cracking like ice.

Then she heard the sound of rustling. “Steph?”

Steph looked up to see a form that looked like Pete, only made out of dead plants. The only thing truly alive about him were his eyes. Lillys; Steph’s favorite flower.

Steph stood shakily. Pete floated inches before her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to him.

“Is this a dream?”

Pete smiled his signature stupid goofy grin that made Steph’s heart well up and burst in her chest. “I highly doubt it.”

“Pete, I’m so sorry,” Steph cried, “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you… t-that I-“

“I would have died a million times over just to keep you safe. I would alter every atom in my body just to make you happy. I would sell my soul to the devils if it meant I could see you alive. I would do anything Steph, I’m just lucky enough to see you smile again.”

Steph lunged at Pete, wrapping her arms around his thin frame. He was cold yet soft, like his sweater.

She clung to him, not ever wanting to let go, not wanting him to drift away.

And he held onto her.

And in the pale winter sunset, two soulmates reunited.

Chapter Text

These past few months have been rough for Paul.

Ever since Richie died, Paul felt this emptiness inside him. Almost like a part of him was missing.

How strange. Paul from ten years ago could never imagine experiencing this pain of losing someone under his care, someone thrust into your life. Paul had only had Richie for about five years, he wished he had more time.

Thankfully, Emma was now in his life. They had started talking before Richie’s death, vaguely flirty. Then Emma found Paul crumpled on the sidewalk before her shift at Beanies. He smelled like booze and blood. She held Paul as he drunkenly cried into her shoulder about the loss of his nephew.

Now almost two months later, Paul and Emma spent every night together. Paul’s home started to feel less empty, yet he still felt that deep sense of grief every morning when he woke up.

Emma
Emma: Hey honey! Wanna swing by here during ur break?

Paul smiled at his phone. He checked the time.

“Hey guys, I’m going to Beanies. You guys want anything?” Paul scanned the office. Everyone was working quietly. Charlotte had her ear buds in, humming along to something that sounded like ABBA. Bill was furiously texting Alice.

Ted’s cubicle was empty. A pile of papers sat in the middle of the desk. It grew every day. Ted hasn’t shown up to work since Pete was shot. Paul had tried to visit. Ted was drunk, incredibly drunk. He had thrown a beer bottle at Paul’s head and screamed something incomprehensible.

Paul slipped out of CCRP and into the fresh January air. A few people walked the streets, but most were at work or school.

The walk from the office to Beanies was really short, like less than a block. Inside was warm and dark. Shitty early 2000’s pop was playing quietly from the speakers. The cafe was sparse, the only other Parton being a man in a blue barrette.

Emma looked up from her phone and beamed at Paul. “There you are! Right on time.” She pushed a black coffee towards Paul. “Still hot.”

Paul took a small sip. Still tasted like shit, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you ‘Em.”

Emma was about to say something when Nora called from the back. “Emma! Can you come here and help me with this bag?”

Emma gave Paul a look before dragging herself to the back. Paul now felt really awkward just standing there. He took a seat at a two top and pulled out his phone.

The man in the barrette stood. He looked directly at Paul, his eyes unnaturally blue. The man waltzed over and plopped himself directly in front of Paul.

Paul looked up, incredibly confused.

“Nice to see you again Paul.” The man said, each word came out like honey.

Paul set his phone down. “Have we met before?”

The man grinned, his blue eyes never leaving Paul’s. It made Paul uncomfortable. “Not here we haven’t. You can call me Poe.” Poe stretched out his hand, letting it hover until Paul shook it. Poe had a grip of iron.

“How do you know my name?” Paul asked.

Poe stirred his own drink, a tea that smelled like dead lavender. “I know a lot of things, Paul. I know your thoughts, your feelings. I know your family and their history. I know your hopes, your fears. I know about your dislike of musicals, a fact that deeply upsets me.”

Paul furrowed his eyebrows. He tried to think of anything to say, but his mind seemed to be humming.

“I even know about your nephew, Richie.”

The humming got louder, like a swarm of bees. “How…how the hell do you know about Richie?”

Poe took a sip of his drink. It splashed the corners of his mouth. He licked away the bright blue liquid. “I can save him ya know. I’m a powerful guy. I know how much you miss him. I could bring you to him, reunite him. He could be at peace.”

The humming drummed in his ears, making them bleed. His whole body seemed to be vibrating. He couldn’t breathe. “How?”

Poe smiled. Blue slime pooled in between his teeth. “I need you to help me with this one, tiny thing.”

Chapter Text

Life was a lot easier now.

Or death.

Pete felt at peace for the first time since his death. Steph was back. They could be together again.

Sure there was the looming threat of an apocalypse…. They’ll deal with that later.

For now, he was doing great. He even made a routine. Every morning he would push himself to travel further out into Hatchetfield. The furthest he’s gotten is CCRP (it was a weekend so he didn’t get to see Ted). During classes, Pete would sneak around the grounds, peaking at Steph through the windows. She would flash him little notes or drawings she did in her notebook. At five, Pete and the living would meet up in the locker room.

The weekends were even better. Steph could spend the whole day with Pete, doing things they would be doing if Pete were still alive. No they couldn’t have a picnic date, or go see a movie together… or bake muffins…. or eat muffins…or just go on a walk…

But it was fine. Everything is great! Pete’s happy. Steph’s happy. Pete’s happy that Steph’s happy. Steph is happy right?

Steph wasn’t here today. She had an SAT or something. Which meant Pete was alone (aside from Richie and Ruth, but they were busy).

So Pete glided around the streets of Hatchetfield. He had no set location in mind. It just felt nice to take a break from school.

The streets were surprisingly empty. Late January snow piled high. Did it snow last night? At least it wasn’t windy.

Pete made his way downtown. Most of the businesses were closed, including Beanies, which was almost never closed. The wind picked up slightly, taking Pete with it. It tossed him around until he landed in an ally way.

The ally was dark, only illuminated by a small yellow-orange light. A young pre teen boy with hay blond hair fiddled with the light. He seemed to be throwing it around, absentmindedly tossing at catching it with one hand. “Oh, just the Petey Pie I wanted to see.”

Pete bristled, petals standing skyward. “You're not afraid of me?”

The boy caught the light in a swift motion. He flicked it behind him, almost indicating something. “Told ya he was still here Teddy Bear.”

From behind him peered a very disheveled looking Ted. His hair was almost to his neck and he had a faint stumble. His eyes were bloodshot and tired.

But it was Ted.

“Pete… how.. how the fuck are you here? Why are you made of flowers?”

Pete couldn’t speak.

“Petey Pie was blessed. He was given the ability to stay here in Hatchetfield."

Ted looked to the boy, then to Pete. “So your like a fuckin ghost?”

Pete could only nod. Ted looked like he might cry.

“A ghost for now, yes.”

Both brothers turned to stare at the boy. He stepped closer to Pete. He had yellow eyes with black rectangle pupils, like a goat.

“Tinky.”

The boy laughed that sick laugh. “Oh so you do remember me Petey Pie!”

Ted stood between the two. “What do you mean for now?”

Tinky gave a lopsided grin. “Oh Petey boy, did you think this was permanent? After you and your little friends “defeat” us, you’ll be gone forever.”

Pete felt cold. He didn’t know he could feel cold yet he felt the icy sting of Tinky’s words.

“You’ll be gone. Steph will be heart broken. Your dear brother here will have nothing left.“ Tinky held up the light. It was shaped like a small cube. Pete could see figures inside of it. He could see the torture, the pain, the horror they’ve been through. “My sister may not know about the afterlife, but I do. And let me tell you something Petey Pie: it’s not pleasant.”

There was a pull. He was being dragged back to campus. Tinky grabbed Pete’s wrist, claws digging into the bark. “Do you really want to leave all this behind? Do you want you and your friends to be dragged down into the Black?”

Pete just stared.

Tinky let go of his wrist. “If you helped me, you could have all of this forever. It’s up to you.”

Pete began to float out of the ally into the empty city street.

Ted grabbed his hand.

“Pete. You have to listen to him. I can’t do this without you.”

With a sharp forceful tug, Pete was sent flying back to school. He laid suspended above the white snow.

He stayed like that for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Ted didn’t know what to think.

He just found out his little brother is a fuckin ghost. That his baby brother will die permanently if they destroy a bunch of… demons? Monsters? Gods?

Ted didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know who killed his brother. Sure the news cried serial killer, but Ted didn’t believe that bull shit.

So Ted did the one thing he knew how to do.

He drank.

His mind shuffled along bleary. He was laid out on a couch, his head lulled to the side. The whiskey bottle sat half empty in the pit of his arm.

Ted enjoyed getting wasted. It helped him forget. It made things less serious, less urgent. He could just be there, in the moment.

Of course the moment was then ruined by a loud knock on the door.

Ted grumbled a string of curses before hobbling over to the front door. He fumbled with the latch before opening the door.

Paul Matthews greeted him. His intense blue eyes were wide with dark circles underneath. Next to him was a woman. She was short and had her hair in a tight bun.

“The fuck do you want Paul?”

Paul sucked in a breath. “Good to see you too, Ted.” He turned to the woman. “This is my coworker Ted. He’s the brother of one of the kids that died.”

“Don’t you fuckin say that.” Ted hissed. Paul and the woman were surprised at his sullen harshness. Ted took a shaky step towards the two. “Pete’s not fuckin dead. He-he’s still here somehow. Some weird ass kid told me-“

“I know.”

Ted bore his eyes into Paul’s. Those unnerving blue eyes stared back. “Richie is still here too. This guy approached me. Told me Richie was still alive, but he was in danger.”

The woman glanced at Paul. “I saw the guy too. He didn’t look human, almost like he was a demon of some kind. He told us to come here and find you.” She continued for Paul.

Ted slowly blinked. “So I’m not going crazy?” The two shook their heads. Ted chuckled. “So… a group of demons want us to work together to save our dead family?”

“That’s exactly right Theodore.”

A shrill voice came from behind Ted. From inside the house.

Ted spun on his heels. The feeling of being weightless crumbled in an instant. He was immediately sobered up.

A young woman held Ted’s whisky bottle. “I would normally sacrifice your soul for being such a sinner,” She shook the whisky bottle once. The insides turned clear, like water. “but since we have to work together, I’ll let this one slide.”

Chapter Text

It was now the beginning of February.

Yeah it was still cold as a witches tit, but it was a bit more bearable. The snow has turned to sleet. Shops and restaurants became more crowded as more people ventured out into the streets.

The only bad thing about February is that they were nowhere near stopping Grace. They’ve been working for a month trying to formulate a plan.

“What if we just burn the book?” That was their first idea.

“The book can’t be burnt. It’s protected by the Lords.” Hannah said, her eyes flashing white.

“We could just negotiate with Grace.”

Hannah shook her head. “She’s too far gone. The book is in control now, and she can’t stop it.”

“What if we just killed her?”

The group stared at Pete. Steph was taken aback by how causally he posed it. Pete was never the type for violence. Steph once watched him carry a moth outside instead of smushing it.

Pete noticed the gaze on him. “I-I mean we can’t think of anything else right? And she’s killed other people… so…” He fiddled with the black rose petals that made it his hair. His Lilly eyes turned downcast.

“If we.. killed her,” Hannah spoke up, “There could be a chance she could come back too, like you guys did. We know she’s favored by the Lords, so who knows what strings they would pull for her.”

The group sat in silence. Steph hates this. She wanted all this to be over. To live a semi-normal life with her undead boyfriend. Yet they had no idea what to do with Grace. The apocalypse could start tomorrow and they could do nothing to stop it.

The sun was setting over the thin blanket of snow, painting the ground shades of yellow and pink. Steph fumbled with her keys as she made her way out to her car.

She made her way to the asphalt of the parking lot when her leg slid under her. She fell backwards, arms windmilling frantically.

She didn’t fall and eat shit on the ground. A pair of wooden arms held her up. “Are you okay?” Pete asked in his worried tone.

Steph couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fine, Spankofski.” She pulled herself up, facing her anxious lover. “Thanks to you.”

Pete gave a small smile that was quickly replaced with an expression of worry. “Steph… do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

Steph paused. “What do you mean?”

Pete fidgeted. “I mean… What if we’re doing the wrong thing? What if we’re on the wrong side.?” He managed to squeak out.

Steph’s jaw clenched. The fuck was he talking about? “Pete, we were chosen to save the world. Grace Chasity is killing people. If we don’t stop her, the world as we know it will be over.”

“But what happens after we save the world?” Pete yelled. “Do you honestly think we can still be together? I’m dead Steph. You’re not. You’re going to live your life and forget about me!”

Silence.

Steph’s jaw worked. She felt like she had just been slapped.

Of course she’s been thinking about what comes next. It’s been haunting her every night as she fails to fall asleep.

“I-I don’t want to talk about this right now Pete.”

She turned on her heels. Pete didn’t protest. She slammed the car door shut and sped out of the school grounds.

Night pressed in around her as she drove. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Does she really think Pete and her could have a happy ending? She would grow old, and Pete would stay the same. He wouldn’t love her when she was old and gray.

She let out a sob. She looked at her shaking hands for a second, trying to calm herself.

BAM

A truck smashed into the front of her car. Steph jerked the wheel, trying to keep herself steady. Her car came to a screeching halt on the side of the road.

She couldn't breathe. Car lights danced and blurred in her vision. Her ears rang.

There was a knock at her window. She rolled it down absentmindedly.

“I need you to come with me.”

A man with a mustache leaned into her window. His slicked back hair reflected the car lights.

Steph had barely any time to think before the man opened her door from the inside. He didn’t try to grab at her, just stared.

Steph reached for her phone on the dash. The man snatched it before she could, throwing it over his shoulder. “Look, I really don’t want to do this, but this is for my brother.”

He began to reach into the car when another man slammed into him. Steph had barely any time to register it when Hannah appeared. “Steph! I’m here. We’re going to get you out of here. Just follow me.”

Steph was on her feet, stumbling towards a small gray Kia Soul. Hannah opened the door for her, letting Steph crash into the back. A man ran towards the car, the same one that tackled the mustache man.

“Is she okay Hannah?”

“I can’t tell if she’s injured or not.” Hannah said. “We need to take her to Holloway.“

Chapter Text

Duke Keane has seen so much shit in his life.

When he first met Hannah, she told him about her spider goddess friend and her psychic powers.

And he immediately believed her.

Because Duke knew Holloway, and Holloway was a magnet for the strange and supernatural. With her, he learned about magical children, monsters in the woods, the strange things CCRP was doing.

Magical spider women weren’t anything too new.

But the story Hannah was spewing out at the bar of Miss Retro’s was something he didn’t expect.

He knew about the Lords in Black. He knew about the murders at Hatchfield High. He and Holloway both suspected it was something more nefarious than a serial killer.

Yet hearing the two things put together, and adding the fact that Hannah’s been hanging out with a group of ghosts trying to stop the apocalypse…

Yeah that was a lot.

Duke let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Why didn’t you tell me this stuff earlier?”

Hannah didn’t meet his eyes, choosing to spin around in her stool. Duke gently grabbed the seat, stopping the spinning. He hated being a little mad at Hannah, she’s been through so much, yet this is more about honesty and.. ya know.. letting a guy know you’ve been talking to ghosts.

The kitchen door swung open as the girl in the flannel stepped out. She had bandages on her forehead and walked with a slight limp. She looked up at Duke, before silently taking a seat next to him. Duke could feel the anger and fear radiating off of her like a tsunami. Her face didn’t show it, her mouth was a fine line and her eyes unfocused.

The door swung open again, revealing Holloway balancing three pieces of pie and the Black Book on a tray. She set the things down, distributing pie to the three: cherry for Duke, lemon for Hannah, and apple for Steph.

Duke cleared his throat. “Ok so apparently, there’s an apocalypse coming.”

He waited for Holloway to react, but she just looked at him with those big green eyes. “I know Duke.”

Duke sputtered. “What do you mean you know?!? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Cause I didn’t want you to freak out like this.” Holly gestured to Duke with an amused smile.

Duke set his jaw. Damn it she was good. “Well, if you know everything, then did you know that Hannah, this girl, and a group of dead teens have been tasked with saving the fucking world?”

Holloway sighed. “I did not. Steph gave me a run down while I was patching her up. I’m not sure why the fate of the world rests on their shoulders, but if Webby commanded it, then they must know what they're doing.”

The two teens shifted a bit, their posture more stiff.

“You guys do know what you’re doing right?”

Steph broke.

“NO WE DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK WE’RE DOING! WE’RE KIDS! I JUST WATCHED MY BOYFRIEND DIE AND NOW I’M SUPPOSED TO STOP THE END OF THE WORLD?!? I CAN’T EVEN PARALLEL PARK!”

Steph shuttered, her breath coming out in waves. Tears pricked her eyes. “I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to cheat off of a geek. I didn’t know I would indirectly cause Armageddon. I have to save the world, but I couldn’t even save him. “

Duke felt something twinge in his heart. He was naturally empathetic, that’s one of the reasons he chose his career. It’s the reason he took in Hannah. Seeing Steph like this hurt.

“I can’t do this. I can’t sit there and see him like that. I can’t sit there knowing that when all of this is over, I’m going to get older. I’m going to leave Hatchetfield. I’m going to have to get a job and a house and a new community. And he’s going to be stuck there, in that stupid ass high school where he was tormented for years. He’s never going to get to experience growing up. We’re never going to experience moving in together, getting a cat, getting married. He’s just going to be a ghost stuck on campus… or he could move on, and I could never see him again. I can’t lose him.”

Steph crumpled. Duke held her up, letting her lean against his chest as she wept. Holloway gave Duke a silent look, before resting a hand on Steph’s back.

Steph went limp in his arms. She breathed softly and slowly.

“I’ll call her mother.” Duke said, trying to reach for his phone.

Hannah twiddled her thumbs. “I know you're mad at me for keeping secrets, but we really need your guys' help. We have no plan and no clue what we’re doing.”

Holloway looked from Hannah to Steph, then to the Black Book. “I think I have an idea.”

Chapter Text

The halls of Hatchetfield High were the same as she remembered it. The blaring music from a speaker. The pushing and shoving trying to get to your locker. It was just like the 80’s all over again.

Holloway glided past the students. None paid her much mind. The spell she cast on herself makes her unrecognizable, with some exceptions. No one saw Mrs. Retros. Instead they say Miss Beatrice, the new Home Ec teacher.

“Chasity takes home ec, correct?” Holloway had asked.

Hannah nodded, her eyes heavy and tired. It was way past her bedtime, but she turned down any suggestion to go to sleep. Lauter had left hours ago. Her mother was in shambles, thanking Duke and Holloway continually. Now only Holloway, Duke, and Hannah were left.

Duke balanced his coffee cup, rolling it along the table. “What does Home Ec have to do with this?”

Holloway smiled. “I know a good bit about home ec.”

Duke looked at her, making a face of protest. His face fell, replaced with an expression of exhaustion. “You know what, I’m not going to worry about it. If you have a plan, I’ll sit back and help as needed.”

“Great cause you are needed. You are in charge of making sure the ghosts know what the plan is… and like making sure their general wellbeing isn’t totaled.”

Holloway passed Duke in the hall. He gave her a nod, his arms full of fake case files.

The home ec room was nothing special. The walls were covered in different appliances and storage units. Tables with sinks and power outlets were scattered across the room. The desk in the front was old, chipping away at the edges. A small plaque with the name Mrs. Horace faced the students. Holloway snatched it up, replacing the name with her alias.

Kids started filing in around nine. Chasity was the first in the room.

She didn’t look evil. She seemed meek and innocent. But Holloway could feel a dark aura surrounding her.

“Where’s Mrs. Horace?” Chasity asked, setting her books down at a table in the front.

“Mrs. Horace had to take a leave of absence. I will be your sub for a while.” Holloway smiled at Grace, her biggest, cheekiest smile she could muster.

Grace quirked an eyebrow at her, but didn’t push it.

Class ran smoothly. Holloway introduced them to sewing and taught them some basic stitches. The class filed an hour later.

Grace made her way towards the door. “Miss. Chasity.” Holloway called.

Grace froze, a look of guilt and fear flashing across her face. “Y-yes Miss Beatrice?”

“You did an amazing job today. Never seen stitches that straight!”

Relief washed over Grace's face as she gave Holloway a small smile before bolting out the door.

Holloway collapsed in her chair. Slow and steady was the best way to do this.

But you can’t go too slow trying to stop the apocalypse.

Chapter Text

Hey guys!
So this work is going on hiatus for the rest of the month. I want to work on my October au (go check it out) and I really can’t balance right now. I also just need to take a mini step back to regain my thoughts.

I’ll see yall in November!!