Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Egon first started living in Summerville, he never expected anyone to visit his farmhouse. Of course, there were a few townsfolk who were kind and cordial towards him. But otherwise? Those people were outliers at best. Everyone else either stayed clear of him like the plague or made insulting nicknames like "Dirt Farmer". Then there was also the fallout he had with the rest of the Ghostbusters. The only person who even bothered to keep in contact and visit him was Janine, but she didn't always have the time to travel to Summerville.

To be honest, Egon was indifferent to people in the town. In fact, he was in a way glad that everyone seemed to see him as that crazy old man who lives on the edge of society. He even started to put up wooden signs near his residence, the text being that of Revelations 6:12, a warning of the end of times, to scare people off. They called him crazy, yet he knew the truth.

The world would end.

The Destroyer themselves will bring the end of humanity.

And only Egon will be able to stop them.

He has been so immersed in finding ways to stop Gozer entering Earth again that he found himself constantly neglecting himself. Sometimes, he would not eat. Sometimes, the only thing in his stomach was coffee made from old, stale blend and lots of sweetened creamer. He would stay up for nights and nights at his desk, hunchbacked and staring at a computer screen for hours until his eyes burned.

He kept telling himself it would be worth it.

That all of his pain and sacrifice would be worth it for saving the world.

Then one day, something happened.

That day seemed to be normal at first. Getting up, working on his trap field, snacking on a box of Twinkies, the usual.

But when it came to the time where he retreated to his underground laboratory, in the middle of experimenting and perfecting his plans, a loud SNAP followed by a muffled thud was heard above him.

Egon's eyes widened in shock. As soon as he purchased the farmhouse, he installed traps inside every place he could possibly think of, just in case someone with bad intentions tried to break in.

With a groan, he quickly got up from his chair and hurried towards the source of the noise, not before grabbing his trusted P.K.E. meter. The farmhouse was more drafty than ever, mostly because of the autumn season bringing its presence. Making a mental note to himself to get himself a heater, Egon slowly made it upstairs, his footsteps echoing dully on the hardwood floor. He squinted as his eyes adjust to the low light, peering through the darkness as he finally found the source.

A large monster laid on the floor, its once clean white fur now covered in dirt. His hair was long and blue, styled in a mullet, though the color was less vibrant and more dull nowadays. His head was gigantic compared to its smaller body, looking more like a bobble-head found on the dashboard of a car. The once fancy-looking, black dress coat with red lining that he wore was now tattered and torn, and his purple bow tie was nowhere to be seen. Both his clawed hands and hoofed feet were tied up in experimental ecto-rope, and his big red ruby lips were covered with another rope for good measures.

There he was.

The Boogieman — all tied up and gagged like the worst Christmas present Egon could have ever received.

Egon could only look at him dumbfounded. Childhood memories came rushing into his head.

His closet door opening with a bright yellow light illuminating inside—

The Boogieman's wheezy laughter as he crept towards him—

His younger self sobbing underneath the covers as Boogie took his fill and left afterwards—

His parents dismissing his concerns because Spenglers "didn't believe in such nonsense"—

This… this wasn't possible.

How could have he escaped the Containment Unit? Did that mean other ghosts he and his former teammates captured were free too?

No, no, no, no, no, no, this had to be a dream, or maybe an hallucination, Egon thought to himself.

It had to be an hallucination. He was on a recent binge of drinking only coffee to fuel himself. And, his sleeping schedule was practically non-existent.

Yes, that must be it. Just a bad, caffeine-induced hallucination.

Egon removed his glasses and gave his eyes a few good rubs, silently praying that Boogie will disappear in front of him. But when he put his glasses back on, the monstrous satyr was still here, his thick eyebrows furrowed, his jagged teeth chewing down the rope gag as he struggled and trashed against his bonds.

The retired Ghostbuster had to face the facts.

This was real—

Boogie was real.

"Mmmf!" the Boogieman made muffled noises behind his gag, glaring at his rival as he slowly walked towards him. Unfortunately for him, whatever material these ropes were made of was just as strong as the Ghostbusters' traps. He could see the anxiousness yet scientific curiosity that was in Egon's eyes.

When was the last time they saw each other?

Ah, yes. Now, Boogie remembered. It was the night when he escaped the Unit with no problems whatsoever, no thanks to Samhain and his army's earlier attempt. The moment he got out, he went back to doing what he did best: scaring little children and feeding off of their fear. Of course, that wasn't the only goal he had in mind, even Egon himself said so when they finally met face to face again. Those children meant nothing to Boogie; they were just sources of food for him to eat/gain power. He only had eyes for his Egon and Egon only. He even went a step over by using his own blood to write out Egon's name on the walls of little Tommy's house. Yet as always, Egon and the rest of those mortals got the better of him, realizing that he was still in his incorporeal form and managing to trap him once more.

Now there they were.

In some dirty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

Egon crouched down until he was at eye level at the captured satyr who, despite being the one tied up, managed to have an air of condescension. His rational side told him to get one of the traps, capture him, and decided what to do with it later. Yet, curiosity got the better of the parapsychologist.

Carefully, he crouched down, reaching out with his free hand to remove the gag from Boogie's mouth.

The first thing Boogie did when it was removed was spitting at Egon's hand.

Egon could only grimace at the action. Thankfully, he had a napkin to wipe the ooze off.

"Hello to you, too," Egon dryly said, balling up the napkin and placing it in his pocket.

"I've been searching for you, Egon," Boogie sneered, still struggling against his restraints. "Such a disappointment to see a man like you here, in a decaying farm, isolated from the rest of the town."

Egon didn't reply, instead he waved his P.K.E. Meter around Boogie's bound form. The wings of the equipment raised up as the lights grew brighter and the noises grew louder. Its screen read a valence rating of a minus 9.

Yes. It was him alright. In all of his time as a Ghostbuster, Egon has only ever saw such a unique rating from the Boogieman.

Boogie smirked deviously, "While we're on topic, it seems that no one else lives here. The only scent I can smell is from that woman. What was her name, huh? Janet, Jane? Ahhhh, wait! Now, I remember. It's Janine, is it not?~"

Egon's eyes narrowed further as Boogie's grin grew wider.

"Let me guess: you didn't get with her. Poor girl, really, she seemed to always pine for you, yet you were too dumb to realize. Now, she probably visits you out of pity. Look at you, Egon. No friends, no loves, and I didn't smell any children running around-"

Before he could finish, Egon raised his foot and stepped on Boogie's hand, earning a suprised yelp of pain. Now Boogie was wishing that he was incorporeal again.

"At least I'm not the one on the floor, Boogie," Egon said coldly. "Look at you: people used to fear you, Boogie. Now, people couldn't care less about you or the supernatural. No child wakes up screaming for you because they're too busy staring at screens filled with things much scarier than you. I bet even your own realm is collecting dust."

Egon then roughly grabbed Boogie by his hair, the monster now unable to look anywhere else except at him.

"I bet the reason you tracked me down here is because you were the only person you could think of that could be afraid of you now. No closet door will open for you anymore, no more easy access to fear. So, you came crawling back to me, like someone with an addiction."

Egon allowed himself a slight smile as the Boogieman's eyes were filled with hatred. "Face it, Boogie, fear is obsolete. You're obsolete. And now? You need me."

The Boogieman remained silent, nothing except for light breathing could be heard. Keeping a grip on the satyr's hair, Egon began to drag Boogie into someplace where he could keep him, maybe one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. It was difficult due to how large the monster was, along with Egon's age catching up to him, but he managed to get him upstairs into a room.

The Boogieman didn't resist anymore, as though he was in a catatonic state.

He allowed Egon to (with struggle) dump him on the bed, his massive weight making it creak loudly.

He allowed Egon to secure each rope to a bed frame, leaving the motionless demon in the spread eagle position.

And Egon?

He couldn't help due to feel a bit of pride for shutting Boogie up. The famed monster, who was always so quick to snarl, so quick to attack, was docile.

After watching Boogie for a while, waiting for him to do anything at this point, Egon let out a deep sigh and started walking towards the door. As he gripped the knob, Egon looked back at his new """roommate""" , clinical detachment shining in his brown eyes.

"I'll check on you tomorrow" was the last thing the Boogieman could hear before the former Ghostbuster left the room.

Meanwhile, Egon was already making his way to the nearest phone to make a call. Hopefully, Janine can help him out with this.

Chapter Text

It had been one week since the Boogieman trespassed into the farmhouse, but to Egon, it felt like an eternity. Whether it was an actual power of his or not, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that Boogie proved himself to be a difficult “house guest”. After his catatonic state dissipated, he quickly revert back to his old self – insults, screaming, and growls were the most common things that slipped from his lips whenever Egon (or Janine in rare cases) came to check up on him. Luckily, the ecto-ropes binding his arms and legs to the bed kept him from moving and tapping into his powers, so the only weapons in Boogie’s disposal were his cruel words. Egon stayed silent during their brief conversations, not willing to give the monster any satisfaction in a reaction. Janine, however, was not as stoic as the former Ghostbuster as a comment from Boogie one day almost earned him a black eye from the redhead. It was clear that both didn’t enjoy the circumstances they were in, but since they had no access to the Containment Unit, they couldn’t imprison Boogie and throw away the key.

Recently, Halloween had arrived in the town of Summerville, a day that Egon dreaded the most. It wasn’t that he hated the holiday with a passion, far from it in fact. The problem was the trick-or-treaters who preferred tricking more than often. These children loved messing with any adults who refused them candy, but Egon was their favorite target. Every year since he arrived, they would cycle to the farmhouse, ignoring all the biblical signs nearby, just to throw rotten eggs and call him “Dirt Farmer”. Over time, he has gotten used to their antics, but it still annoyed him as their yelling, cruel laughter, and the eggs hitting the windows interrupted whatever activity he was doing at the moment.

Right now, the house was quiet, too quiet. Janine wasn’t around, Boogie stayed silent in his room, and the only sounds he heard were of the elements like the draft of wind. Then, the familiar egg cracking filled Egon’s ears like the worst symphony.

“Here we go, again,” Egon sighed to himself.

He was sitting in his armchair, reading The Mysteries of Latent Abnormality, when the trick-or-treaters came. Soon his windows were covered in yolk, yet Egon buried his face into the book, his usual way of ignoring those kids.

“Hey, Dirt Farmer! Still farming nothin’?!”

“Come on out, Dirt Farmer!”

“Give us candy, you old Dirt Farmer!”

Just like with Boogie, Egon refused to give them a reaction, opting to stay in his chair and continue reading his book. The eggs kept piling in, and the kids weren’t running out of insults. His lips curled into a frown as he massaged his temples. When will the madness end? It felt like he was gaining a migraine thanks to them.

Then-

The noises stopped.

Egon sighed a breath of relief.

Finally, he can now have some piece and quiet-

A sharp, piercing scream filled his ears, almost causing him to drop the book onto the floor. He quickly ran towards the nearest window and with a tight grip flung open the curtains-

Only to see him.

The Boogieman towering over the now whimpering trick-or-treaters, his jaw wide open as thick saliva tripped onto the ground. When he spoke, it sounded demonic, like multiple people resided in the monster’s vocal cords.

“Fresh meat,” Boogie growled.

Egon knew he meant the fear oozing from them, but the sight of the monster free from his bonds sent a jolt of alarm through his system. How had he escaped the ecto-ropes?

There was no time to ponder. Egon threw open the front door, the cold night air hitting his face. "Boogie! Leave them alone!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the children's terrified whimpers.

The Boogieman's head swiveled slowly, his glowering eyes narrowing at the interruption. "Spengler," he hissed, the multitude of voices layering over one another in displeasure. "Why? They came to us. Rude, noisy little brats. They're practically a delivered feast meant for me. I'm starving!" He empathized the last word with a guttural roar that made the children shriek again.

"They're children," Egon stated, his voice low and firm, though his heart hammered against his chest. He took cautious steps forward, placing himself between Boogie and the kids. "They're not a meal. Let them go."

"Or what?" Boogie sneered. Egon saw the calculation in his eyes. He may be weak, but an animal was at its most dangerous when cornered. If he was going to stop Boogie, words were the best option. Egon's mind raced, analyzing variables, probabilities, and theories. The children's fear were potent but simple; his own, however, was complex, deep-rooted, a vintage compared to their cheap wine. An idea quickly formed.

"Or you get nothing," Egon said. "And you will remain bound to that bed, starving, until you fade back into the nothingness you came from."

Boogie's form flickered for a brief moment. Egon couldn't be serious, he had to be bluffing! Yet, his cold, serious expression made him thought otherwise.

"I have a proposal," Egon continued, choosing his words carefully. "You release them, and you will not engage in this kind of predatory behavior again under my watch again. In return, you may feed from me."

Boogie's sneer vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. "You? Giving yourself up to me so willingly?"

"Yes. My fears are more substantial. More than enough to sustain you. A steady, reliable source. Far more filling than terrorizing children who will only give you a fleeting rush."

The aforementioned children huddled together, still shaking and whimpering, unable to move out of shock. Boogie looked down from their small, terrified forms to Egon's rigid stance. The satyr was starving, a hollow ache that gnarled at his very essence. The rich, delectable terror of a man like Egon was a far greater than the simple fright of these brats.

A long, tense moment passed. Finally, Boogie's shoulders slumped, his body language less aggressive and more tired.

"Fine," he hissed. "A bargain, then. Your fears for their freedom."

"The terms are accepted," Egon said, not taking his eyes off the creature. "Now, go back inside."

With a low grumble that seemed to vibrate through the very ground, the Boogieman complied. He turned, and slid back through the open front door into the dark farmhouse. The door swung shut, leaving Egon alone with the stunned kids.

He watched for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Go home," he said, his voice softer now, but no less firm.

They didn't need to be told twice. Scrambling to their feet, they fled into the night, their earlier bravado utterly forgotten. Egon walked back onto the porch, hearing the silence return once more. He could feel the weight of the promise he had just made, a painful knot tightening in his stomach. Inside the house, he knew Boogie was waiting, patient yet ravenous, for the feeding to begin.