A Ghost in Your Garden Part 6
Jul. 25th, 2014 04:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraSwing low
Grey bones
I don't know
If I'll ever be whole again
Misha leaves two hours later, and Jensen isn’t sure he notices any difference between before and after. Other than the fact that the grand old house is silent and he’s not being kept entertained by any ghosts. The Deacon leaves Jensen his number just in case, but Jensen isn’t sure he’ll use it. If the trick worked then he has nothing to call about, and if it didn’t then bringing the man back out is pointless. He seemed nice, but Jensen isn’t in the market for new friends right now.
After all, he just made a house full, and there’s a chance he just sent them off into the great Unknown. Misha’s line about the flesh stays with him. Jensen doesn’t bother with the Ouija board or walking around the house attempting to summon Jared. When Jared wants to talk to him he will.
If he’s still capable.
Jensen focuses instead on the process of cleaning grit and grime from the old bricks. He remembers what Jared said about the fireplace, how Jeff built it first and it was the only thing that survived the tornado that killed almost the entire town. The first lives lost here, before the house was even entirely built. Something nags at Jensen then, tugs at the back of his mind and tells him he needs to focus, but he can’t.
Because there are footsteps behind him that ring out on the hardwood and then stop. It’s a courtesy being offered to him. He knows it. Appreciates it. But still dreads what is coming.
“I didn’t do it to get rid of you.”
Jared doesn’t respond instantly. He stands perfectly still behind Jensen, and then a cold hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder. Cold not cool. Jensen realizes his mistake instantly.
He tries to jerk forward, out of the suddenly harsh grip, but there is no escaping it. Jensen is dragged backwards onto his ass, heels slamming into the ground and hands reaching out for the closest doorframe as he’s dragged deeper into the house. Manliness is sacrificed when he gets pulled up the first step, wood slamming harshly into his spine, and he still can’t seem to get a good look at the shape holding him.
Screaming seems useless, childish, but Jensen can’t help himself. He wonders how many of the deaths attributed to falling down the stairs began just this way. How many people thought they were safe on the ground floor and then found themselves being dragged to their doom? His fingers scrape wood and one of his nails snaps off as he tries to anchor himself uselessly while crying for help. Wailing for Jared.
Jensen’s head bounces on the landing for the second floor, and he’s momentarily stunned, voice dying on an odd yawp and the house spinning around him. For a moment he thinks he can see the shape dragging him, that it’s a man instead of a dark shadow, and then he’s pressed against the railing of the third floor balcony and staring down at the parquet floor below.
This is how he’s going to die. Plunging head first into the wood floor and snapping his neck. He’s going to be stuck here forever, screaming at people he thinks are trespassers and struggling to remember who he is. Will Jared forgive him if he’s dead? Or will he lose even that connection? Will Aldis and Chris visit him?
Breath is difficult to drag into his lungs as the railing presses into him, and Jensen struggles weakly before the wood scrapes his chest and he is falling towards the floor. And then there’s a flare of pain in his shoulder, but something cool and firm is holding his wrist. Jensen blinks blearily at the hand holding him, at the arm attached, and then at Jared’s horrified face. Jensen is dangling next to the second floor landing, Jared the only thing standing between him and two broken legs now that some of his fall has been removed.
“Jared.”
A pink tongue slips out and wets pink lips, and Jensen thinks for just a moment that maybe Jared likes Jensen as much as Jensen likes him. That maybe Jared is going to let him fall anyway to assure that Jensen can never banish him.
Guilt comes hard and strong seconds later as Jared pulls Jensen into him over the railing and collapses back into the wall. Jensen can’t hold himself up, he hangs limply in the circle of Jared’s arms, and presses his face into Jared’s chest. His maybe boyfriend smells like paint and dusty sunlight. He feels solid and strong under Jensen in a way no man has before, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with being held here where he’s safe and whole.
Then the adrenaline crashes, and Jensen’s shoulder is screaming in pain, his finger is on fire, and he’s having a panic attack. He hears his name from a distance away, fear and maybe confusion in the voice, and then Jensen is graying out and losing everything.
---
When Jensen wakes up Jared is lying beside him with his eyes open and fixed on some point beyond the ceiling. There’s water soaking his shoulder from a melted bag of ice, and the pain in his finger is muted. He’s pretty sure Jared slipped him something, because he feels fuzzy and his mouth is full of cotton.
“What’d you-“
“One of the pain pills in your vanity cabinet. I thought you’d need it. We popped your shoulder back into place, so it’s going to stay swollen for a bit and you need to be careful with it. The finger is going to take longer. The whole nail is gone. We cleaned out the nail bed though so I’m pretty sure it won’t get infected.”
“Thank you. Jared I-“
“Was only trying to help. I heard. If you had mentioned it to me I would have told you that the priest thing has been done before. A lot.”
Jared doesn’t sound angry, but he doesn’t sound like Jared either. There’s no life to him, and Jensen rolls painfully onto his side so he can get a really good look at the other man.
There’s no color to Jared. He looks insubstantial, unstable, and Jensen doesn’t understand why. He’s almost afraid that if he reaches out in this moment and puts his hand on Jared it will pass through. For the first time the term ghost holds some deeper meaning, and Jensen is afraid that somehow he has managed to kill Jared again.
“I’m sorry. Jared I’m sorry.”
A half grin, slow and painful, spreads over Jared’s face.
”You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No. You are. I used your phone to call Chris and Aldis. You’re going to go on a trip and that’s final. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“I can’t leave you. Don’t you understand that? I told Matt I wasn’t leaving, I told them I wasn’t leaving, and I meant it. I’m staying. You guys are my friends. You’re my-I’m not leaving you.”
Jared’s wan half-smile dies entirely, and he pushes up from the bed and stands in place in the afternoon sunlight.
He’s half relieved that it doesn’t shine through Jared.
“There’s something wrong with this house. Its heart is twisted and evil, and it’s going to kill you. It’s going to use one of us to kill you. This time it was- it doesn’t matter. Next time it could be me. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let it use me to hurt you. So you’re going to leave, and you’ll forget all about this. And we’ll go on, like we always do. We don’t need you, and I don’t want you here anymore. Goodbye.”
And with that, Jared is gone, and Jensen is left alone in the bed too drowsy and hurt to even try to get up and find him.
That’s how Chris and Aldis find him, and his friends half carry him out of the house and into their car.
----
“Jesus it really did a number on you. Jensen, man, this is for the best. Really. I mean look at what happened! If he hadn’t caught you, and what a catch dude, you would have died! That house is evil. We’ll sell it, or burn it, or something it, and get you a nice condo. Maybe the ghosts will come with. I mean it worked in the Poltergeist series. And after all it’s not your responsibility to save every dead person there.”
Aldis sits across from him at the table, gesturing with a piece of pizza that is in serious danger of flinging topping shrapnel everywhere if he gets just a little more passionate about making his case for Jensen never returning to Oak Tree. Chris occasionally makes a noise that is either assent or gas.
Jensen hasn’t spoken in two days. He’s not sure what to say. A part of him thinks he should argue with them. That he should say that he has a vested interest not only in the house but in the ghosts. Financially, emotionally, physically he is tied to that house already. Once upon a time when Jensen was young and idealistic he believed that what they did was akin to surgery. That he would put his hands in the organs of a house and bring it back to life, cut out the pieces that didn’t work and replace them with better ones.
Since the accident though he’s felt like an undertaker, prepping the corpses for yet another financially troubled family to throw their luck behind a failing financial system and a hopeless chase of whatever the American Dream is these days. Jensen is tired of being cynical, jaded, and if he turns his back on the world he’s been introduced to now that’s all he’ll ever be. He’s been given a chance at a second life, at something important, and he can’t run from it.
But thinking all of that doesn’t change the fact that Jensen doesn’t know what to do. He could hire psychic after psychic hoping that one of them wasn’t a fraud and knew what they were doing, but what’s the point? If the priest trick had been tried before how many people had brought in crystal waving sensitives in the hopes they could purge the evil from the house too?
That tug is happening again, but Jensen can’t get it to coalesce into something solid and meaningful. Aldis is still talking. Has managed to launch a pepperoni halfway across the table and can’t seem to notice the way Chris is eyeing it. It’s all white noise to Jensen now as he tries to follow the thread of intuition to its logical conclusion.
Everyone has tried to cleanse the house of its evil. Everyone who’s ever died there has been trapped there. Something about the property, something about the structure, gives it the ability to do that. So what? Indian burial ground? Witch’s curse?
Maybe Jeff did something that none of them know about. Maybe he pissed off a pagan god or made a deal with the Devil. Just because he seems nice doesn’t mean-
“Jen, you listening?”
His head jerks up, shoulder jostling and screaming at him, and Jensen is reminded again of how deep in this he is, and how dire the stakes are.
“Yeah. I’m listening.”
“Then what was I saying?”
Chris saves him. “Nothing important. Jen, get some rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
And that sounds promising. Good. Except they don’t figure it out tomorrow, because Jensen spends the day in a low grade painkiller haze on their couch. In fact he repeats that behavior for three days straight. Aldis acts the mother hen, hovering over him and talking non-stop. He goes back and forth between being supportive about Jensen’s decision to tie himself to the house and Jared, and decrying everything to do with the place.
Chris broods in the background, and Jensen appreciates the space even as he wishes Chris’s no-nonsense style of advice would pop up sometime soon and make sense of all of this. He’s wallowing in self-pity, he knows that, doesn’t need Chris to tell him. But still, it would be nice to just get a little push.
Jensen staggers into the dining room on the fourth day and stares at the table Chris is sitting at, sheets of paper and blueprints spread out in front of him.
He recognizes his own house without effort.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking over the plans. Several years' worth.” Chris shifts the top layer of blueprints to show Jensen the stack underneath. Every addition, remodel, and planning commission approval is here. Jensen wants to hug Chris. This means his friend has a plan.
He takes the seat across from Chris and steals his friend’s mug. Chris laughs without looking up.
“And that’s how I know you’re back with us. Now. Here is where the graveyard mysteriously drops off the plat.”
Jensen studies the change in the two drawings. Drags his finger along the smooth space in the backyard and then over the markers indicating the tiny graveyard.
“Someone paid off that surveyor. But why? Why hide the graveyard? Shit like that sells houses down here. History and –“
But doesn’t he know? Because the history of the house is steeped in blood and tragedy. Because every inch of it is haunted from the core to the-
To the.
“Where’s the oldest one? The oldest blueprints?”
Christ digs for a moment and then pulls out the oldest set he can find.
“It’s from 1901. Before they added the third floor and the ballroom. Why Jen? You got an idea?”
“Something like that.”
It’s been staring him in the face. So many people have said it and Jensen ignored them, forgot every lesson he’s ever gained from his years working with houses, and how could he be so blind? It started with Jeff. It started with the first incarnation of the house.
The heart. Dirty and evil to its core, the house’s heart is rotten. And the heart of the house, the only thing left after the tornado came through and destroyed all of it was the imported brick fireplace. The very thing he was messing with when the house decided it was time for Jensen to die.
“We need a way to hold it off long enough to do a little deconstruction.”
Chris’s mouth pulls up into a dark and ominous grin.
“I think we can get that.”
------
They stand on the front lawn in a line, sledgehammers and equipment bag sitting on the grass. Jensen wonders if the house sees them through its windows.
He remembers that when he bought it he honestly thought that it looked so charming and quaint. He saw potential in the peeling paint and the faded shudders, beauty that simply needed a skilled hand to restore it. But now all he sees is evil. This is the place that almost killed him, that killed Jared and all the others he’s come to appreciate and enjoy.
Chris clears his throat, and Aldis squares his shoulders and nods.
“Remember the most important lesson.” It’s delivered gravely, and Jensen turns to look at Aldis staring at the house with a sort of grim composure he’s never seen on his friend’s face before.
“What’s that?” Chris hefts the bag up in one hand and sledgehammer in the other.
“If someone asks if you’re a god, tell them yes.”
Jensen bursts into high almost hysterical laughter as Chris shoots his boyfriend a dour look and heads for the front porch.
Honestly he expects the house to stop them, but when the door opens it is silent and dark inside. There’s no movement in the grand entryway, and Jensen pauses for half a second before crossing the threshold. Did Jared say they had to die inside the house, or simply on the property? After all, Jeff and his wife didn’t die in the house as it is now.
Aldis lets out a high-pitched squeak and Jensen spins on the ball of his foot to see Samantha standing in the doorway to the dining room, one hand pressed to her chest and eyes wide.
“What are you doing here? This is my house. Get out of my house.” Samantha’s eyes sparkle in the darkness, wet and confused, and Jensen feels sorry for her at the same time he worries that she’s going to attract the attention of the house if they haven’t already.
“Samantha, please, it’s Jensen and we’re here to-“
“Who are you? I’m calling the cops!” Jensen spins to see Charles, holding a knife in the hallway to the kitchen. Chris steps forward and Jensen can see he has the holy water in one hand and the salt in the other. Jensen hopes their research was right, but they won’t know until it’s too late.
Which, technically, is right now. That they’re in the house at the mercy of it. And Jensen is only just now realizing how many chess pieces it has to move against them.
“On three make a run for the parlor. I’ll lay down the salt while you and Chris start whaling on the fireplace.” Aldis’ voice is calm, the opposite of what his face says he’s feeling, and Jensen is glad for it.
“Sounds good.” Chris passes the salt over to his boyfriend, readies himself to bolt, and then Jensen looks up to see Jeff on the stairs with the fireplace poker in his hands. Again.
“Get out of my house.”
“Three.” Chris moves the moment the word leaves his mouth, and the group of them bolt across the wood floor and through the archway into the grand parlor Jensen loved so much during the Open House.
Jensen’s feet skid along the floor as he stops before the fireplace, too much momentum sending him crashing into the wall and fighting to stay upright. Chris doesn’t do any better, slamming against the bricks himself, and behind them they hear Aldis yelling that everything is fine as he lays down salt. Jensen looks up to see that the ghosts have stopped at the salt line, and that more are gathering behind the ones he already saw.
“Get it done! Get it done now!” Aldis is laying down a second and third line, whites of his eyes particularly big with how wide they are, and Jensen plans on paying for the two of them to go on any vacation they want after this whole thing is over.
He cocks his sledgehammer back, Chris moving in perfect synchronicity, and then a body hurtles in front of both of them.
“Stop! What are you doing to my fireplace?”
It’s Jared, eyes full of shock and fear, and Jensen’s grip on the hammer slips as Chris pulls his blow at the last second and just manages to miss Jared. Jensen’s hammer strikes him though, and Jared lets out a cry and crumples to the ground. Jensen wants to check on him, but he knows that Jared is lacking the ability to be seriously injured. It’s just the memory of hurt that Jared is experiencing right now.
He has to believe that, because he has a job to do. On his second pass the hammer strikes into the brick in an explosion of dust and chips, and Jensen idly considers the fact that neither of them are wearing safety goggles.
Jensen was always a hardass about safety goggles.
Each blow is surer than the last, and the ancient brick falls under the strength of the modern hammers and their wielders. Aldis is talking behind them, maybe trying to soothe the ghosts or himself Jensen isn’t sure. What he does know is that every second counts, and there’s no telling when the house will figure out a new way to get at them.
As if on cue the windows blow open, and Jensen has time to curse the fact that they didn’t think about that before a heavy weight crashes into him. Chris cries out, voice high and scared, but Jensen manages to cry back that he should keep going.
The weight on his chest is massive, and when Jensen can get his vision to stop doubling from the hit his head just took he realizes that it’s Jared sitting on him. Jared’s big, gentle, cool hands settling around his throat. He gets one last deep breath before the grip settles in and Jared is officially choking the life out of him.
For what seems to be hours Jensen fights for breath, fights to get his boyfriend off of him, but there’s no moving Jared. Jared is a mountain. Jared is the death he didn’t find in the car, and he wonders if this is how he looked to the boy dying on top of him. If there was this little haze, like a camera soft lens, and if the boy wished that Jensen would smile one last time.
Jensen would like to see Jared’s smile one more time.
And then there’s a crashing noise, something far off through a tunnel, and Jared’s hands go slack and soft around Jensen’s neck. Breath rushes into his lungs and his throat screams as Jared’s weight leaves his chest and Jensen rolls to pull in deep rattling breaths. He’s going to live. He’s going to live and by the confused looks on the faces of the ghosts their plan was successful.
Big hands grab him and pull him up, and then Jared is staring into his eyes, radiating concern and anguish.
“I told you. I told you I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you. Why. Why did you come back Jensen?”
Jensen reaches one shaky hand up and pets Jared’s face, fingers tracing where dimples should go, along one mole, and over the soft lips he knows so well.
“I’m thirsty.”
Chris bursts into wild laughter somewhere in the background, and Aldis joins him. Jared’s lips quirk, small but visible, and then he’s pulling Jensen into a tight hug that Jensen doesn’t want to escape.
But he really is thirsty.
---
Chris and Aldis are sleeping down the hall, and Jared is tenderly holding an ice pack to Jensen’s throat as he continues to rattle off what is a fairly epic bitching about not listening to him and endangering Jensen’s person and any other number of things. Jensen doesn’t think he’ll be stopping any time soon.
“Do you really value your life that little? You fucking idiot. Running in like a goddamn cowboy going after a-“
“You’re hot.”
Jared stops, face perplexed, and then Jensen sees the gears turn and click into place for modern language. A slight flush graces his cheeks even as his eyes narrow on Jensen’s face.
“You think that’s going to distract me?”
“Yes?”
“You’re a twice-damned fool.” Jared takes the ice pack down and sits on the edge of the bed. “How’s your throat?”
“Not as good as you look.”
Jared laughs openly at that, fingers coming up to brush moisture off Jensen’s neck and lingering over the bruises.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“And you still haven’t. That was the house. And it’s all fine now because it’s been stopped.”
Jared’s head shakes, and he leans in to press a chaste kiss on Jensen’s lips. Which is the exact opposite of what he wants. Jensen just had a near death experience and the last thing he wants right now is chastity.
“How corporeal are you?”
Jared squints at him, face scrunching up adorably, and Jensen grabs the long hair and pulls Jared in for a real kiss. Deep, hard, tongue sliding past Jared’s shocked lips and rubbing his teeth for just a second before Jared relaxes his mouth and lets Jensen all the way in.
One big hand lands somewhere on his waist, the other curls around the side of his throat and pets it softly. Jared is trying to redirect the emotion, but Jensen is having none of it. He has his house back, he’s secured his relationship, and he survived an encounter with evil. He’ll be damned if his prize is another night of blue balls and wondering.
That being said, he should probably ask. But his mouth is a little busy, and the hand that isn’t holding Jared’s head steady is plucking at the smooth, old buttons of Jared’s shirt. Jensen wonders if this is the shirt Jared died in. Sometimes it changes colors, but the style of his slacks and button-up combo is always the same. Does he have access to his wardrobe? Or is it the memory of his clothing? The cloth probably wouldn’t have survived this long.
Jared pulls back, eyes wide and chest moving fast, and Jensen thinks score one for the autonomic nervous system.
“Are you-Jensen are you seducing me?”
He laughs, not the nicest thing to do but the look of virgin shock on Jared’s face is comical after Jensen has learned about Jared’s life. There’s an obvious flash of hurt that makes Jensen’s laughter die before he slides one hand along Jared’s now bared chest.
“Yeah. I’m seducing you. Is it working?”
A pause, head tilting and puppy-dog look firmly in place, and then Jared pulls his shirt off and grabs the hem of Jensen’s.
“I’d say so. Quite a bit.”
Jensen knows his way from here. He knows the ins and outs of the act well enough to focus on the details while his hands take over the mechanical process of undressing Jared, and helping Jared undress him. Jared is smooth, skin soft and cool, and Jensen sucks in a breath at the defined v-cut, the sharp jut of his hipbones, the rippling musculature that covers his abdomen and slides over the outlines of his ribs.
When Jared’s pants unbuckle and slide off Jensen is treated to an incredibly hard and large cock, paler than the rest of Jared and already leaking pre-come. It’s probably the best thing Jensen has ever seen, because it means that this can work. All of this can work. He can have the rest of Jared, and still have this. The biological logistics of Jared not having a working circulatory system but being able to get hard flit briefly through his mind and then slide away as Jensen wraps a hand around Jared’s cock at the same time Jared disengages from his mouth and bends down to take one of Jensen’s nipples in his mouth.
He gasps, arching into the cool suction, and his hand spasms on Jared’s dick and draws a groan out of him. Jensen is used to first times going quickly, but there’s a chance this one will be over before it starts. He tries to think of not sexy things, but Jared twists to grab lube from the nightstand and Jensen watches the way muscles play under skin and feels Jared’s cock jump in his hand, and not sexy isn’t a possibility.
“Do you bottom or top?” Jensen is out of breath, doesn’t care what the answer is, and hopes the terminology has been around long enough that he won’t have to try to describe it.
Jared’s dirty grin as he pulls the lube out of Jensen’s nightstand and pops the cap is just enough to make Jensen’s cock jerk, and he gives Jared a rough pull to tell him that looks are great but he needs a game plan and he needs it now.
A big hand pushes him onto his back, and Jensen stares up at a suddenly much larger seeming man than he was in bed with a moment ago. That dirty grin is spreading, off-set by dimples that were once cute and now seem only wicked and sexy.
“I’m not picky ‘bout that, but I am pretty serious about technique. When your bad shoulder is all healed up I’ll take you, but till then you’re just gonna have to lie back and let me take care of things.”
Jensen can just see from this angle that Jared’s other hand is behind him, and he wishes he could spy exactly what it is that Jared is doing with those long fingers instead of just having to guess. A cool hand rubs lube over Jensen’s cock, and he has just enough time to think that when they do reverse positions he’ll prep himself because Jared is a little cool to make that fun.
Or maybe not, because the contrast of Jared’s body temperature against the heat of his dick is insane as Jared slides down onto him. He’s tight, so tight, and they moan in sync as Jared takes all of him in one swift descent.
For a moment they stay there, staring at each other, Jensen on the verge of trying to say something goofy or serious to move the mood out of the intensity that it’s suddenly found itself in, but Jared starts to move and that’s the end of that.
Jared is deadly in bed. Every movement screams experience and passion, there’s no odd angle to him, no weird sex faces, and no strange noises. Everything is precisely calculated to drive Jensen up the wall, and he settles his hands on Jared’s hips and sinks his fingers into the flesh as Jared rides him out.
Everything, the movement of Jared on his dick, the way Jared’s thighs tense and release against his, and the strength of Jared’s hands against his chest, all of this is new. Jensen can barely breathe, and when Jared bends over to kiss him, and his dick slides almost all the way out and catches on Jared’s rim he hisses with the need to get back in. To get to the magical land of completion.
And yet, at the same time, Jensen doesn’t want it to end. There’s something mystic about it, about coming together with someone so inherently different from himself, about touching and being touched after all the horror he’s lived with since the night of the accident.
It’s silly, a cliché to end all clichés, but in this moment Jensen feels complete. The scrape of Jared’s teeth against his lips and the dig of Jared’s nails into his pecs ground him and remind him that he’s still here, that’s he’s very much alive, and that he’s found someone to push him to continue living the life he’d begun to squander.
Jared gasps, twisting just right, and Jensen shifts his hips to keep the angle and try to hit Jared’s prostate with more accuracy. He’s almost embarrassed by how quickly he feels his orgasm approaching, and Jensen slides his hand from Jared’s hip to his cock and starts to jack him, alternating the intensity of the pressure and the speed in the interest of driving Jared just as crazy as he’s being driven.
Flesh slapping against flesh, panting breaths, and then Jared’s eyes fly open close to his and Jared breathes his name out once before he jerks hard against Jensen’s grip and comes. Jensen lasts through maybe two seconds of it before he’s coming himself in the tight confines of Jared’s ass.
He rides it out, thrusts through the last of his orgasm and continues to squeeze the head of Jared’s sensitive dick to prolong the joy of the orgasm, and then when he can’t keep focus on it anymore he lets go and feels Jared’s dick flop against his stomach before the whole weight of the man lands on him.
Jensen is breathless for a second, and then he gently pushes at Jared’s shoulder and Jared carefully rolls off, breathing deep and long beside Jensen.
“Holy shit.” Jared drops his arm over his eyes and lets out a little hoot.
“Holy shit indeed. I haven’t done that in so long.”
A little grin curves Jared’s lips, and Jensen wishes he could see his eyes.
“Yeah, me neither.”
Jensen lets that one go, and instead lifts Jared’s arm just enough so that he can make eye contact.
“This may be kinda fast, and a little bit corny, but I think I’m in love with you.”
There’s a beat, where Jensen thinks that Jared is going to panic or not answer, and then Jared’s eyes crinkle and his mouth pulls up into a tremendous grin followed by a deep laugh. Eventually the laughter has Jared curling around his own stomach, and Jensen wants to laugh with him but he’s not sure he’s not the joke.
Finally Jared gets control of himself, and he looks Jensen directly in the eyes.
“Well damn darling, me too. But I thought we established that when you moved in with me.”
Jensen is supremely pleased he can’t accidentally smother Jared when he covers his boyfriend’s face with a pillow and presses down.
----
The morning sun wakes Jensen up none too gently, and it takes him a moment to figure out why the curtains are open. Jared stands in the beam, sunlight playing off his skin and shadowing the dips and hollows of his bones. Jensen wants to lick every one of them.
“Well. You’re an early riser.”
Jared gives the ghost of a smile as he turns fully to look at Jensen casting half his face in shadow.
“I don’t really sleep. Are you sure you want to stay Jensen? The house is going to change.”
“With any luck the house already changed. And yes. I’m sure. Now let’s go make some breakfast, because I’m starving, and then we’ll kick Aldis and Chris out and I’ll show you how much better my shoulder feels.”
Jensen watches Jared redress, focuses on the fact that he has to do up every little button and buckle. His own clothes slip on easier, and the two of them are headed down the stairs to the smell of coffee Jensen is already homing in on when last night’s question occurs to him.
“Do you have like…a wardrobe somewhere?”
“Not that I know of. I just…wear these.”
“Maybe we could get you to just wear something a little more current.”
A distasteful look is sent towards Jensen’s outfit.
Jeff is standing in the foyer, and Jensen waves to him and gets a tentative wave back. They round the corner and find Chris and Aldis already making breakfast in the big kitchen. Chris grins over a sizzling pan of bacon, and Aldis pours Jensen coffee and holds it out with a smirk.
“Poor Jared. Had to deal with the pre-coffee ogre Jensen.”
“I am a delight.” Jensen mumbles it around a mouthful and doesn’t miss Aldis rolling his eyes or Jared grinning in response.
“So I noticed we ain’t totally done with ghosts round here. Y’all all planning on staying?”
Jared sits down beside Jensen and shrugs delicately.
“Probably not all of us? There’s no telling what’s after this, and people with someone already here will probably stay. Charles and Adrianne, Laura and Samantha, and maybe Chad but that’s just because he’d miss the beer. I know Jeff’s probably pretty eager to try to find his wife.”
Chris flips the bacon and a frown crinkles the skin between his eyes. Aldis shares a look with him before turning to Jared.
“Why wouldn’t he stay here with his wife?”
“Because his wife isn’t here.” Jared pours a little sugar into Jensen’s coffee and ignores Jensen slapping at his hand.
“Why wouldn’t his wife be here?” Chris turns the burner off and steps forward, and apparently he and Aldis are sharing a line of thought but Jensen will be damned if he knows what it is.
“Because she didn’t die here? She’s never been here.”
And that’s when it hits Jensen. The thing that has been wiggling at the back of his brain and nipping at his tongue. He thought it was the blueprints, the ones Chris kept pulling out and poring over, because that’s what Jensen is trained to see. That’s where his eyes naturally go. To structures and plans, to carefully graphed out maps of places to live and eat. To work.
Jensen’s never been very good at looking at people. At sheets of facts and statistics. Or in this case, printed out microfiche articles from seemingly ancient times.
Chris says it before Jensen can think to stop him.
“She did die here. In the storm. Same as Jeff.”
The cabinet fronts explode, glasses and cups flying out and crashing against the wall and countertops. Drawers roll open and cooking implements go flying around the room bouncing off surfaces and slamming into the three of them. Jared jumps up and begins shouting for it to stop, for them to run, but Jensen is frozen on the spot.
Aldis lets out a wail, a paring knife sticking out of his thigh, and Chris grabs him and pulls him towards the back door. Jensen watches like a man in a nightmare, and then Jared is picking him up and running for the door. Everything is flying past him, and they pass Chris and Aldis stumbling along against each other. Jensen sees the border of the property, has time to think that maybe this is a dream because this sort of stuff isn’t supposed to happen on bright and sunny days with the birds chirping and the breeze blowing, and then they hit the edge of the property and Jensen is flying through the air and slamming into the ground.
Breath is driven out of him on impact, and Jensen rolls on the prickly grass and looks up to see Aldis and Chris skidding over the property border, and the back door of the house slamming shut with no one touching it.
Chris is out of breath, holding Aldis up and wiping streaks of blood from shards of glass off his face. None of them say the obvious, that they were wrong, that they’re not conquering heroes, but they do huddle together and stare hopelessly back onto the property where they aren’t safe, but where Jensen needs to return.
Because whatever is in there, whatever is waiting, it now has Jared and is supremely pissed off.
---
Deacon Misha is sipping his coffee, staring at the three of them with surprise and interest, but no disbelief. He’s listened to the entire story from beginning to end, and his only contribution so far has been noises to tell them to continue.
Jensen is beginning to believe he’s not really listening, because at some point any sane person would have stopped them and told them they were full of shit.
Or maybe he’s insane.
Chris is describing the last moment, the kitchen going wild, and Jensen thinks of Jared being ported back into the house after carrying Jensen to safety. Did it hurt to be pulled back like that? Was it scary? It had to be maddening to know where the boundaries of your world were. To be unable to cross them.
The irony of his mild and recently acquired agoraphobia in relation to that thought is not worth contemplating. Instead Jensen looks up to see Aldis showing the Deacon his bandaged thigh and proclaiming that it was a butcher knife that he handily dodged so that he only got a small wound.
“So, this whole time you guys have been working with the assumption that the house was the evil because it’s always kept the souls, but that can’t be true because one of them is missing.”
Aldis makes a face and Chris cuts in before his boyfriend can take real offense.
“It seemed like a realistic belief at the time father, and I gotta tell you this ain’t exactly our specialty.”
Jensen wonders if he’ll feel guilty later that he destroyed the work of art that was once his ancient fireplace.
“I’m a deacon, and it’s not really my specialty either. But this sounds like a pretty classic horror movie plot. Every time you think the monster is dead it turns out it isn’t. So if it isn’t the house it’s got to be one of the ghosts. Jeff? He was the first, right?”
Chris pulls out all the information they got during their research phase and spreads it out over the table, but Jensen knows who it is. At least he thinks he does. There was a gap after Jeff, a time when all that was left on the property was a lonely fireplace and the ruins of Jeff’s dream.
What do they always say about ghosts in movies? That they’re people with unfinished business? Jensen wonders what she could have left to do, what could possibly keep someone so young behind. More importantly, he wonders what kind of little girl she was that this is what she is now. None of the other ghosts act like her, and as far as he knows none of them are able to control each other.
Maybe she was a willful child, someone who could manipulate and shape the adults around her. Spoiled and used to getting her way. He thinks of The Bad Seed, remembers how badly it creeped him out the first time Matt showed it to him.
And now he’s living it, albeit in a more traditional horror sense than a thriller one. Jensen reaches past the talking group of men around him and drags the relevant paper forward. It’s small, just a blurb about her death and her grieving parents, but Jensen remembers it clearly.
“This one. Sierra. This is the one.”
Aldis squints and then looks up at Jensen.
“Because of the timeline or the rash of creepy little kid movies?”
“The timeline. Look at it. Jeff dies, and then there’s no house and no direct deaths on the property until Sierra’s family moves in. Suddenly she dies, and every person that dies after is stuck there. I’ve seen her the least, Jared is the only one who talks to her directly, and she tried to scare me into falling down the stairs one day.”
“She threw you down the stairs?” Chris stands, hackles raised, and Jensen is touched and amused considering the attacker in question. Which is immediately followed by embarrassment when Jensen has to clarify.
“No. But she popped out of a corner when I was on them and I fell backwards. The other ghosts saved me. She just sat there. And she’s aggressive.”
Because sure, Jared stuck up for her, but Jensen has a better view of the situation than Jared does. Jensen can see clearly, because as much as he likes the ghosts the only one that he’s biased towards is Jared. And Jared is not the problem. Came way too late in the timeline to be the issue.
Jensen should have seen it then. Sure, the little girl has been around long enough to be an adult several times over, but her behavior was all wrong. The others had certainly, to one extent or another, gained knowledge of modern behavior and technology, but they hadn’t changed personalities. They hadn’t grown like that.
Sierra on the other hand acted nothing like a little girl. Not the kind Jensen was used to. And she never joined the group to enjoy herself, never got to know Jensen, and never spent time with the other ghosts.
It’s her. He’s sure of it. But now he has to figure out what to do about it.
“Misha. If she’s buried in the graveyard is there something you can do to send her spirit on? A blessing or something?”
Misha frowns thoughtfully at the print out of the newspaper blurb before looking up at Jensen.
“I can give her Last Rites, and that may do it. If it doesn’t I know maybe one other thing that would work. But we’d need shovels. And time. Can she attack us if we’re on the property?”
“Yeah. They can travel all the way to the edge. And if she ain’t gonna do it she can apparently use the other ghosts to do it. Which is damn unpleasant let me tell you.” Chris is still up, hand rubbing at the scratches on his face, but he has that glint in his eyes that Jensen knows means he’s got a plan and he’s going to do it come Hell or high water.
Which, considering the storm clouds building outside, might be both.
Aldis perks up, a smile on his face that is more than a little manic.
“Hey Jen, you said some of them know how to use modern technology right?”
“Yeah. A bunch of them have learned from families that have moved in.”
“But the evil little girl hasn’t?”
Jensen considers his answer before giving it. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t have much involvement at all with the living. Or the dead really.”
“Do you have your cell phone on you?”
He pats his pockets and then shakes his head. Not entirely sure where Aldis is going with this.
“I must have forgotten to grab it in between waking up and being attacked by a crazy ghost.”
Aldis pulls out his own phone, dials, and then waits for a bit before putting it on speaker. The voice on the other end is Chad, and he sounds both amused and a little buzzed. Which is normal, and good to hear. He’s not being used by Sierra.
“-Jensen’s phone but he isn’t here right now. Can I take a message?”
“Chad. Chad it’s Jensen. Is there anybody else around?”
A beat, a thump, and then the sound of the bedroom door closing.
“Nope. Not a single one. Everybody scattered when they saw what happened. Jared’s guilting himself into a coma, and Samantha is working hard to help him but she’s having an off day. Dude, I thought you fixed this shit, but everybody’s in a weird mood now and it just seems worse. Are you coming back?”
“Chad, I need you to focus. Do you know where Sierra is?”
“…Uh. No? She’s not my biggest fan. Told me I had the brain cells of a houseplant. Which was kinda mean to be honest, because I’m actually pretty smart. I mean, I think so. But you know there’s no accounting for-“
“I need you to find her. I need you to find her and keep her busy ok? We think we know what went wrong, and how to fix it, but if she knows about it then it might not work. Can you do that?”
Chad laughs, and then his voice drops in volume and gains a terrible British accent. “Whatever you say M. I can keep my cover in the worst situations.”
Aldis covers his mouth to smother a burst of surprised laughter, and Misha doesn’t even bother. Jensen isn’t laughing, but he’s glad Chad is so in the present. It’s a good sign, and it gives him hope.
“Alright man. Just keep her as busy as you can and away from the back of the house.”
“Will do.”
----
The skies crack open as they turn onto his street, and Jensen shivers as a strike of lightning illuminates the house in perfect dramatic timing and is followed close by a crack of thunder.
“This better work this time, because I’m using all my badass credit up on this house. I might need some later this year to intimidate Chris.”
“Like you ever had any to make that work.” Chris shifts in the driver seat, unbuckles his belt and scans the street slow and careful.
Beside Jensen, Misha is busily kissing his stole, placing it around his shoulders, and removing a variety of items Jensen has seen in movies from a gilded box. It’s a new side to the Deacon, because every movement is carefully done and reverent. Jensen wasn’t entirely sure he was capable of such an emotion.
The rain pounds against the car, and Jensen is gripped by a sudden and made desire to tell Chris to turn the car around and take them back. They can do this tomorrow when the sun is out again and there isn’t the very heavens telling them that they’re trapped in a cycle of horror and madness.
Except if he waits he’ll chicken out. He has a history of it. He’s refused to face the facts about the accident until he was forced to. He’s locked himself away until now when he had something else to be panicked about than the thought of another crash.
If Jensen pauses this he’ll never come back. It’s not the most flattering of personal realizations, but Jensen is a coward, and if he chickens out of this one he’ll be leaving Jared to the depravity of something Jensen cannot even begin to understand. He has to do this.
A hand lands on his knee, and he looks at it for a long time before following it back up to Misha’s face. All of them are looking at him he realizes, but it’s Misha’s piercing gaze that holds his attention.
“You can do this. For your new friends. For yourself. You can do this Jensen.”
And Jensen nods. Because he can. He can do this. He just has to get out of the car.
----
The rain is warm, and the grass and ground are already soaked. Jensen’s bad leg slips more than he cares to admit, but he keeps upright and holds onto his shovel in the interest of making it to the end of this. Because he has to see the end. He has to know that Jared is safe. Distantly he wonders if getting rid of Sierra will take the idea of choice away. When it was just the house Jensen was worried, but he believed and Jared stayed.
Considering how his luck has been turning out there’s a very real possibility that doing this will make him single again. It seems like a cold way to break up with someone.
Jensen leads the group down the street, through the backyards of the neighbors he’s never met, and then skirting along the edge of his own property. There’s a light on upstairs that shines through one of the stained glass windows in the ballroom, and Jensen wonders who it is up there, and why they’d turn the lights on.
He forgets the question when he slips and finds Chris’s strong hands holding him up. When this is over he’s going to take a nice long hot bath, and let everything rest, because rainy days are the worst on the formerly pinned joints.
Normality, he’ll have normality, and isn’t that great?
The trees sway around them in the rain, and then break open faster than he expected to show them the opposite side of the graveyard than he’s used to. He stares at the low stones, lightning illuminating them for a second before they’re plunged back into darkness except for the flashlight beams.
It’s slow going picking their way through the stones. The varying heights and placement make it difficult to pick a specific path to take through to the other side, and the wet earth sucks at their shoes and causes them to slip on uneven patches.
One death in between Jeff and Sierra, and Jensen must have assumed that it was the Pellegrino nephew. But it wasn’t. Jensen remembers asking Jared about the bodies, Jared specifying that they weren’t all buried there. Pellegrino’s body must have been moved somewhere else, and the smooth stone beside Jeff’s was for his wife Hilarie.
Which means the little stone, destroyed with what Jensen had assumed was time and weather, is Sierra’s. They stop in front of it, and Misha pulls at his wet robes and stole before he nods to them. They begin to dig.
Jensen tries to keep pace with Chris and Aldis, but he’s slipping too much to be as useful as he’d like. He realizes he doesn’t know anything about burial rules in the time Sierra died. Will she be a full six feet under? Will there be a cement casing around the coffin that they have to break through? He knows that the scenes in movie and TV where one man digs a grave in a short period of time is bullshit.
They’re hip deep when Jensen’s shovel strikes wood. Apparently he was making more progress than he thought.
Misha and Aldis hold flashlights while Jensen and Chris clear the last of the earth from the top of the coffin. It’s small, old and decaying wood rotted through in places, and Jensen can see a strange pattern that was probably once prominently carved into the oak and now simply gave off an unsettling vibe in the shaky light provided by his friends.
A groan accompanies the opening of the lid, a crack of thunder, and then Jensen hears a shout that sends him flying back into the edge of the grave they’ve dug up, mud sliding down the back of his shirt and seeping through his pants. Aldis shrieks and Chris spins with his shovel, but the only shape standing there in the rain is Jared.
Long hair is plastered to his head and neck, and his eyes are huge and dark. He stares at the group of them with horror evident on his face, and Jensen wonders if Jared is here how close behind Sierra will be. The rain will wash away any salt they try to put down, and they’re basically defenseless.
Maybe waiting wouldn’t have been cowardice.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?”
Chris opens his mouth, but it’s Jensen that responds. Jared deserves that.
“Setting things right Jared. Where’s Sierra?”
Jared looks around the tableau they create, eyes lingering on Misha, and then turns to Jensen.
“Inside. Samantha is talking to her. Jensen, Jensen stop and look at what you’re doing. If you’re wrong you’re sending an innocent girl to who knows what. If this even works. What if it really is the house? What if the fireplace wasn’t the heart of the problem?”
He swallows, licks rainwater off his lips and tries to find a good way to respond that isn’t pleading. He needs to sound confident, because his confidence will carry on to Jared.
“I’m sure. I’m sure Jared. It’s Sierra. And this will stop it. This will set free the people who want to leave and clear the house. It’ll make it safe for me to stay with you.”
“Or it will send her to someplace worse. I’ve known her for a long time Jensen. A long time. She’s not evil.”
Jensen hoists himself out of the ground as smoothly as he can, slipping just a bit and then standing on the uneven and muddy ground and staring at Jared. He must look a mess, covered in grave mud and soaked to the bone. His shoulder is screaming and his leg aches worse than it has in a long time. He wants to go inside. Draw a long hot bath and drag Jared into it. He wants to settle down and live here, in this house, with the man he loves. But to do so he has to destroy someone Jared considers a friend.
And he might be wrong. This might be false confidence the same way the fireplace was. Jared might be right.
But Jensen is willing to risk it. Even if it means Jared will resent him he’s willing to risk it. Because Jared deserves to have a choice. He deserves to decide where he wants to go for his afterlife, he deserves to know the truth about who he’s cared for all this time, and he deserves to know that Jensen is just this selfish. If that’s the way he sees it.
“Jared, I’m sorry, you’re going to see I’m right. Misha. Do it.”
Misha’s voice is drowned out temporarily by the blowing wind and thunder, and Jensen misses large portions of it after that because he spends the ceremony staring at Jared. They’re locked there, the grave between them and storm raging around them, and Jensen wants to move forward and can’t.
Logically he knows that he might require forgiveness after this. That being right doesn’t automatically absolve him from his ignoring Jared’s wishes. That being said, Jensen certainly hopes it does.
When a heavy hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder he doesn’t turn, but he hears Misha say, “It’s done Jensen.”
And he wonders whether that’s true, and if so how much of it is done. Either way he breaks eye contact to put the heavy mud back into the grave, and when he looks up Jared is still there. Jensen takes that as a good sign. He has to.
Masterpost
Next Part
Previous Part
Grey bones
I don't know
If I'll ever be whole again
Misha leaves two hours later, and Jensen isn’t sure he notices any difference between before and after. Other than the fact that the grand old house is silent and he’s not being kept entertained by any ghosts. The Deacon leaves Jensen his number just in case, but Jensen isn’t sure he’ll use it. If the trick worked then he has nothing to call about, and if it didn’t then bringing the man back out is pointless. He seemed nice, but Jensen isn’t in the market for new friends right now.
After all, he just made a house full, and there’s a chance he just sent them off into the great Unknown. Misha’s line about the flesh stays with him. Jensen doesn’t bother with the Ouija board or walking around the house attempting to summon Jared. When Jared wants to talk to him he will.
If he’s still capable.
Jensen focuses instead on the process of cleaning grit and grime from the old bricks. He remembers what Jared said about the fireplace, how Jeff built it first and it was the only thing that survived the tornado that killed almost the entire town. The first lives lost here, before the house was even entirely built. Something nags at Jensen then, tugs at the back of his mind and tells him he needs to focus, but he can’t.
Because there are footsteps behind him that ring out on the hardwood and then stop. It’s a courtesy being offered to him. He knows it. Appreciates it. But still dreads what is coming.
“I didn’t do it to get rid of you.”
Jared doesn’t respond instantly. He stands perfectly still behind Jensen, and then a cold hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder. Cold not cool. Jensen realizes his mistake instantly.
He tries to jerk forward, out of the suddenly harsh grip, but there is no escaping it. Jensen is dragged backwards onto his ass, heels slamming into the ground and hands reaching out for the closest doorframe as he’s dragged deeper into the house. Manliness is sacrificed when he gets pulled up the first step, wood slamming harshly into his spine, and he still can’t seem to get a good look at the shape holding him.
Screaming seems useless, childish, but Jensen can’t help himself. He wonders how many of the deaths attributed to falling down the stairs began just this way. How many people thought they were safe on the ground floor and then found themselves being dragged to their doom? His fingers scrape wood and one of his nails snaps off as he tries to anchor himself uselessly while crying for help. Wailing for Jared.
Jensen’s head bounces on the landing for the second floor, and he’s momentarily stunned, voice dying on an odd yawp and the house spinning around him. For a moment he thinks he can see the shape dragging him, that it’s a man instead of a dark shadow, and then he’s pressed against the railing of the third floor balcony and staring down at the parquet floor below.
This is how he’s going to die. Plunging head first into the wood floor and snapping his neck. He’s going to be stuck here forever, screaming at people he thinks are trespassers and struggling to remember who he is. Will Jared forgive him if he’s dead? Or will he lose even that connection? Will Aldis and Chris visit him?
Breath is difficult to drag into his lungs as the railing presses into him, and Jensen struggles weakly before the wood scrapes his chest and he is falling towards the floor. And then there’s a flare of pain in his shoulder, but something cool and firm is holding his wrist. Jensen blinks blearily at the hand holding him, at the arm attached, and then at Jared’s horrified face. Jensen is dangling next to the second floor landing, Jared the only thing standing between him and two broken legs now that some of his fall has been removed.
“Jared.”
A pink tongue slips out and wets pink lips, and Jensen thinks for just a moment that maybe Jared likes Jensen as much as Jensen likes him. That maybe Jared is going to let him fall anyway to assure that Jensen can never banish him.
Guilt comes hard and strong seconds later as Jared pulls Jensen into him over the railing and collapses back into the wall. Jensen can’t hold himself up, he hangs limply in the circle of Jared’s arms, and presses his face into Jared’s chest. His maybe boyfriend smells like paint and dusty sunlight. He feels solid and strong under Jensen in a way no man has before, and there’s a sense of peace that comes with being held here where he’s safe and whole.
Then the adrenaline crashes, and Jensen’s shoulder is screaming in pain, his finger is on fire, and he’s having a panic attack. He hears his name from a distance away, fear and maybe confusion in the voice, and then Jensen is graying out and losing everything.
---
When Jensen wakes up Jared is lying beside him with his eyes open and fixed on some point beyond the ceiling. There’s water soaking his shoulder from a melted bag of ice, and the pain in his finger is muted. He’s pretty sure Jared slipped him something, because he feels fuzzy and his mouth is full of cotton.
“What’d you-“
“One of the pain pills in your vanity cabinet. I thought you’d need it. We popped your shoulder back into place, so it’s going to stay swollen for a bit and you need to be careful with it. The finger is going to take longer. The whole nail is gone. We cleaned out the nail bed though so I’m pretty sure it won’t get infected.”
“Thank you. Jared I-“
“Was only trying to help. I heard. If you had mentioned it to me I would have told you that the priest thing has been done before. A lot.”
Jared doesn’t sound angry, but he doesn’t sound like Jared either. There’s no life to him, and Jensen rolls painfully onto his side so he can get a really good look at the other man.
There’s no color to Jared. He looks insubstantial, unstable, and Jensen doesn’t understand why. He’s almost afraid that if he reaches out in this moment and puts his hand on Jared it will pass through. For the first time the term ghost holds some deeper meaning, and Jensen is afraid that somehow he has managed to kill Jared again.
“I’m sorry. Jared I’m sorry.”
A half grin, slow and painful, spreads over Jared’s face.
”You need to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“No. You are. I used your phone to call Chris and Aldis. You’re going to go on a trip and that’s final. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“I can’t leave you. Don’t you understand that? I told Matt I wasn’t leaving, I told them I wasn’t leaving, and I meant it. I’m staying. You guys are my friends. You’re my-I’m not leaving you.”
Jared’s wan half-smile dies entirely, and he pushes up from the bed and stands in place in the afternoon sunlight.
He’s half relieved that it doesn’t shine through Jared.
“There’s something wrong with this house. Its heart is twisted and evil, and it’s going to kill you. It’s going to use one of us to kill you. This time it was- it doesn’t matter. Next time it could be me. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let it use me to hurt you. So you’re going to leave, and you’ll forget all about this. And we’ll go on, like we always do. We don’t need you, and I don’t want you here anymore. Goodbye.”
And with that, Jared is gone, and Jensen is left alone in the bed too drowsy and hurt to even try to get up and find him.
That’s how Chris and Aldis find him, and his friends half carry him out of the house and into their car.
----
“Jesus it really did a number on you. Jensen, man, this is for the best. Really. I mean look at what happened! If he hadn’t caught you, and what a catch dude, you would have died! That house is evil. We’ll sell it, or burn it, or something it, and get you a nice condo. Maybe the ghosts will come with. I mean it worked in the Poltergeist series. And after all it’s not your responsibility to save every dead person there.”
Aldis sits across from him at the table, gesturing with a piece of pizza that is in serious danger of flinging topping shrapnel everywhere if he gets just a little more passionate about making his case for Jensen never returning to Oak Tree. Chris occasionally makes a noise that is either assent or gas.
Jensen hasn’t spoken in two days. He’s not sure what to say. A part of him thinks he should argue with them. That he should say that he has a vested interest not only in the house but in the ghosts. Financially, emotionally, physically he is tied to that house already. Once upon a time when Jensen was young and idealistic he believed that what they did was akin to surgery. That he would put his hands in the organs of a house and bring it back to life, cut out the pieces that didn’t work and replace them with better ones.
Since the accident though he’s felt like an undertaker, prepping the corpses for yet another financially troubled family to throw their luck behind a failing financial system and a hopeless chase of whatever the American Dream is these days. Jensen is tired of being cynical, jaded, and if he turns his back on the world he’s been introduced to now that’s all he’ll ever be. He’s been given a chance at a second life, at something important, and he can’t run from it.
But thinking all of that doesn’t change the fact that Jensen doesn’t know what to do. He could hire psychic after psychic hoping that one of them wasn’t a fraud and knew what they were doing, but what’s the point? If the priest trick had been tried before how many people had brought in crystal waving sensitives in the hopes they could purge the evil from the house too?
That tug is happening again, but Jensen can’t get it to coalesce into something solid and meaningful. Aldis is still talking. Has managed to launch a pepperoni halfway across the table and can’t seem to notice the way Chris is eyeing it. It’s all white noise to Jensen now as he tries to follow the thread of intuition to its logical conclusion.
Everyone has tried to cleanse the house of its evil. Everyone who’s ever died there has been trapped there. Something about the property, something about the structure, gives it the ability to do that. So what? Indian burial ground? Witch’s curse?
Maybe Jeff did something that none of them know about. Maybe he pissed off a pagan god or made a deal with the Devil. Just because he seems nice doesn’t mean-
“Jen, you listening?”
His head jerks up, shoulder jostling and screaming at him, and Jensen is reminded again of how deep in this he is, and how dire the stakes are.
“Yeah. I’m listening.”
“Then what was I saying?”
Chris saves him. “Nothing important. Jen, get some rest. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
And that sounds promising. Good. Except they don’t figure it out tomorrow, because Jensen spends the day in a low grade painkiller haze on their couch. In fact he repeats that behavior for three days straight. Aldis acts the mother hen, hovering over him and talking non-stop. He goes back and forth between being supportive about Jensen’s decision to tie himself to the house and Jared, and decrying everything to do with the place.
Chris broods in the background, and Jensen appreciates the space even as he wishes Chris’s no-nonsense style of advice would pop up sometime soon and make sense of all of this. He’s wallowing in self-pity, he knows that, doesn’t need Chris to tell him. But still, it would be nice to just get a little push.
Jensen staggers into the dining room on the fourth day and stares at the table Chris is sitting at, sheets of paper and blueprints spread out in front of him.
He recognizes his own house without effort.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking over the plans. Several years' worth.” Chris shifts the top layer of blueprints to show Jensen the stack underneath. Every addition, remodel, and planning commission approval is here. Jensen wants to hug Chris. This means his friend has a plan.
He takes the seat across from Chris and steals his friend’s mug. Chris laughs without looking up.
“And that’s how I know you’re back with us. Now. Here is where the graveyard mysteriously drops off the plat.”
Jensen studies the change in the two drawings. Drags his finger along the smooth space in the backyard and then over the markers indicating the tiny graveyard.
“Someone paid off that surveyor. But why? Why hide the graveyard? Shit like that sells houses down here. History and –“
But doesn’t he know? Because the history of the house is steeped in blood and tragedy. Because every inch of it is haunted from the core to the-
To the.
“Where’s the oldest one? The oldest blueprints?”
Christ digs for a moment and then pulls out the oldest set he can find.
“It’s from 1901. Before they added the third floor and the ballroom. Why Jen? You got an idea?”
“Something like that.”
It’s been staring him in the face. So many people have said it and Jensen ignored them, forgot every lesson he’s ever gained from his years working with houses, and how could he be so blind? It started with Jeff. It started with the first incarnation of the house.
The heart. Dirty and evil to its core, the house’s heart is rotten. And the heart of the house, the only thing left after the tornado came through and destroyed all of it was the imported brick fireplace. The very thing he was messing with when the house decided it was time for Jensen to die.
“We need a way to hold it off long enough to do a little deconstruction.”
Chris’s mouth pulls up into a dark and ominous grin.
“I think we can get that.”
------
They stand on the front lawn in a line, sledgehammers and equipment bag sitting on the grass. Jensen wonders if the house sees them through its windows.
He remembers that when he bought it he honestly thought that it looked so charming and quaint. He saw potential in the peeling paint and the faded shudders, beauty that simply needed a skilled hand to restore it. But now all he sees is evil. This is the place that almost killed him, that killed Jared and all the others he’s come to appreciate and enjoy.
Chris clears his throat, and Aldis squares his shoulders and nods.
“Remember the most important lesson.” It’s delivered gravely, and Jensen turns to look at Aldis staring at the house with a sort of grim composure he’s never seen on his friend’s face before.
“What’s that?” Chris hefts the bag up in one hand and sledgehammer in the other.
“If someone asks if you’re a god, tell them yes.”
Jensen bursts into high almost hysterical laughter as Chris shoots his boyfriend a dour look and heads for the front porch.
Honestly he expects the house to stop them, but when the door opens it is silent and dark inside. There’s no movement in the grand entryway, and Jensen pauses for half a second before crossing the threshold. Did Jared say they had to die inside the house, or simply on the property? After all, Jeff and his wife didn’t die in the house as it is now.
Aldis lets out a high-pitched squeak and Jensen spins on the ball of his foot to see Samantha standing in the doorway to the dining room, one hand pressed to her chest and eyes wide.
“What are you doing here? This is my house. Get out of my house.” Samantha’s eyes sparkle in the darkness, wet and confused, and Jensen feels sorry for her at the same time he worries that she’s going to attract the attention of the house if they haven’t already.
“Samantha, please, it’s Jensen and we’re here to-“
“Who are you? I’m calling the cops!” Jensen spins to see Charles, holding a knife in the hallway to the kitchen. Chris steps forward and Jensen can see he has the holy water in one hand and the salt in the other. Jensen hopes their research was right, but they won’t know until it’s too late.
Which, technically, is right now. That they’re in the house at the mercy of it. And Jensen is only just now realizing how many chess pieces it has to move against them.
“On three make a run for the parlor. I’ll lay down the salt while you and Chris start whaling on the fireplace.” Aldis’ voice is calm, the opposite of what his face says he’s feeling, and Jensen is glad for it.
“Sounds good.” Chris passes the salt over to his boyfriend, readies himself to bolt, and then Jensen looks up to see Jeff on the stairs with the fireplace poker in his hands. Again.
“Get out of my house.”
“Three.” Chris moves the moment the word leaves his mouth, and the group of them bolt across the wood floor and through the archway into the grand parlor Jensen loved so much during the Open House.
Jensen’s feet skid along the floor as he stops before the fireplace, too much momentum sending him crashing into the wall and fighting to stay upright. Chris doesn’t do any better, slamming against the bricks himself, and behind them they hear Aldis yelling that everything is fine as he lays down salt. Jensen looks up to see that the ghosts have stopped at the salt line, and that more are gathering behind the ones he already saw.
“Get it done! Get it done now!” Aldis is laying down a second and third line, whites of his eyes particularly big with how wide they are, and Jensen plans on paying for the two of them to go on any vacation they want after this whole thing is over.
He cocks his sledgehammer back, Chris moving in perfect synchronicity, and then a body hurtles in front of both of them.
“Stop! What are you doing to my fireplace?”
It’s Jared, eyes full of shock and fear, and Jensen’s grip on the hammer slips as Chris pulls his blow at the last second and just manages to miss Jared. Jensen’s hammer strikes him though, and Jared lets out a cry and crumples to the ground. Jensen wants to check on him, but he knows that Jared is lacking the ability to be seriously injured. It’s just the memory of hurt that Jared is experiencing right now.
He has to believe that, because he has a job to do. On his second pass the hammer strikes into the brick in an explosion of dust and chips, and Jensen idly considers the fact that neither of them are wearing safety goggles.
Jensen was always a hardass about safety goggles.
Each blow is surer than the last, and the ancient brick falls under the strength of the modern hammers and their wielders. Aldis is talking behind them, maybe trying to soothe the ghosts or himself Jensen isn’t sure. What he does know is that every second counts, and there’s no telling when the house will figure out a new way to get at them.
As if on cue the windows blow open, and Jensen has time to curse the fact that they didn’t think about that before a heavy weight crashes into him. Chris cries out, voice high and scared, but Jensen manages to cry back that he should keep going.
The weight on his chest is massive, and when Jensen can get his vision to stop doubling from the hit his head just took he realizes that it’s Jared sitting on him. Jared’s big, gentle, cool hands settling around his throat. He gets one last deep breath before the grip settles in and Jared is officially choking the life out of him.
For what seems to be hours Jensen fights for breath, fights to get his boyfriend off of him, but there’s no moving Jared. Jared is a mountain. Jared is the death he didn’t find in the car, and he wonders if this is how he looked to the boy dying on top of him. If there was this little haze, like a camera soft lens, and if the boy wished that Jensen would smile one last time.
Jensen would like to see Jared’s smile one more time.
And then there’s a crashing noise, something far off through a tunnel, and Jared’s hands go slack and soft around Jensen’s neck. Breath rushes into his lungs and his throat screams as Jared’s weight leaves his chest and Jensen rolls to pull in deep rattling breaths. He’s going to live. He’s going to live and by the confused looks on the faces of the ghosts their plan was successful.
Big hands grab him and pull him up, and then Jared is staring into his eyes, radiating concern and anguish.
“I told you. I told you I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you. Why. Why did you come back Jensen?”
Jensen reaches one shaky hand up and pets Jared’s face, fingers tracing where dimples should go, along one mole, and over the soft lips he knows so well.
“I’m thirsty.”
Chris bursts into wild laughter somewhere in the background, and Aldis joins him. Jared’s lips quirk, small but visible, and then he’s pulling Jensen into a tight hug that Jensen doesn’t want to escape.
But he really is thirsty.
---
Chris and Aldis are sleeping down the hall, and Jared is tenderly holding an ice pack to Jensen’s throat as he continues to rattle off what is a fairly epic bitching about not listening to him and endangering Jensen’s person and any other number of things. Jensen doesn’t think he’ll be stopping any time soon.
“Do you really value your life that little? You fucking idiot. Running in like a goddamn cowboy going after a-“
“You’re hot.”
Jared stops, face perplexed, and then Jensen sees the gears turn and click into place for modern language. A slight flush graces his cheeks even as his eyes narrow on Jensen’s face.
“You think that’s going to distract me?”
“Yes?”
“You’re a twice-damned fool.” Jared takes the ice pack down and sits on the edge of the bed. “How’s your throat?”
“Not as good as you look.”
Jared laughs openly at that, fingers coming up to brush moisture off Jensen’s neck and lingering over the bruises.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“And you still haven’t. That was the house. And it’s all fine now because it’s been stopped.”
Jared’s head shakes, and he leans in to press a chaste kiss on Jensen’s lips. Which is the exact opposite of what he wants. Jensen just had a near death experience and the last thing he wants right now is chastity.
“How corporeal are you?”
Jared squints at him, face scrunching up adorably, and Jensen grabs the long hair and pulls Jared in for a real kiss. Deep, hard, tongue sliding past Jared’s shocked lips and rubbing his teeth for just a second before Jared relaxes his mouth and lets Jensen all the way in.
One big hand lands somewhere on his waist, the other curls around the side of his throat and pets it softly. Jared is trying to redirect the emotion, but Jensen is having none of it. He has his house back, he’s secured his relationship, and he survived an encounter with evil. He’ll be damned if his prize is another night of blue balls and wondering.
That being said, he should probably ask. But his mouth is a little busy, and the hand that isn’t holding Jared’s head steady is plucking at the smooth, old buttons of Jared’s shirt. Jensen wonders if this is the shirt Jared died in. Sometimes it changes colors, but the style of his slacks and button-up combo is always the same. Does he have access to his wardrobe? Or is it the memory of his clothing? The cloth probably wouldn’t have survived this long.
Jared pulls back, eyes wide and chest moving fast, and Jensen thinks score one for the autonomic nervous system.
“Are you-Jensen are you seducing me?”
He laughs, not the nicest thing to do but the look of virgin shock on Jared’s face is comical after Jensen has learned about Jared’s life. There’s an obvious flash of hurt that makes Jensen’s laughter die before he slides one hand along Jared’s now bared chest.
“Yeah. I’m seducing you. Is it working?”
A pause, head tilting and puppy-dog look firmly in place, and then Jared pulls his shirt off and grabs the hem of Jensen’s.
“I’d say so. Quite a bit.”
Jensen knows his way from here. He knows the ins and outs of the act well enough to focus on the details while his hands take over the mechanical process of undressing Jared, and helping Jared undress him. Jared is smooth, skin soft and cool, and Jensen sucks in a breath at the defined v-cut, the sharp jut of his hipbones, the rippling musculature that covers his abdomen and slides over the outlines of his ribs.
When Jared’s pants unbuckle and slide off Jensen is treated to an incredibly hard and large cock, paler than the rest of Jared and already leaking pre-come. It’s probably the best thing Jensen has ever seen, because it means that this can work. All of this can work. He can have the rest of Jared, and still have this. The biological logistics of Jared not having a working circulatory system but being able to get hard flit briefly through his mind and then slide away as Jensen wraps a hand around Jared’s cock at the same time Jared disengages from his mouth and bends down to take one of Jensen’s nipples in his mouth.
He gasps, arching into the cool suction, and his hand spasms on Jared’s dick and draws a groan out of him. Jensen is used to first times going quickly, but there’s a chance this one will be over before it starts. He tries to think of not sexy things, but Jared twists to grab lube from the nightstand and Jensen watches the way muscles play under skin and feels Jared’s cock jump in his hand, and not sexy isn’t a possibility.
“Do you bottom or top?” Jensen is out of breath, doesn’t care what the answer is, and hopes the terminology has been around long enough that he won’t have to try to describe it.
Jared’s dirty grin as he pulls the lube out of Jensen’s nightstand and pops the cap is just enough to make Jensen’s cock jerk, and he gives Jared a rough pull to tell him that looks are great but he needs a game plan and he needs it now.
A big hand pushes him onto his back, and Jensen stares up at a suddenly much larger seeming man than he was in bed with a moment ago. That dirty grin is spreading, off-set by dimples that were once cute and now seem only wicked and sexy.
“I’m not picky ‘bout that, but I am pretty serious about technique. When your bad shoulder is all healed up I’ll take you, but till then you’re just gonna have to lie back and let me take care of things.”
Jensen can just see from this angle that Jared’s other hand is behind him, and he wishes he could spy exactly what it is that Jared is doing with those long fingers instead of just having to guess. A cool hand rubs lube over Jensen’s cock, and he has just enough time to think that when they do reverse positions he’ll prep himself because Jared is a little cool to make that fun.
Or maybe not, because the contrast of Jared’s body temperature against the heat of his dick is insane as Jared slides down onto him. He’s tight, so tight, and they moan in sync as Jared takes all of him in one swift descent.
For a moment they stay there, staring at each other, Jensen on the verge of trying to say something goofy or serious to move the mood out of the intensity that it’s suddenly found itself in, but Jared starts to move and that’s the end of that.
Jared is deadly in bed. Every movement screams experience and passion, there’s no odd angle to him, no weird sex faces, and no strange noises. Everything is precisely calculated to drive Jensen up the wall, and he settles his hands on Jared’s hips and sinks his fingers into the flesh as Jared rides him out.
Everything, the movement of Jared on his dick, the way Jared’s thighs tense and release against his, and the strength of Jared’s hands against his chest, all of this is new. Jensen can barely breathe, and when Jared bends over to kiss him, and his dick slides almost all the way out and catches on Jared’s rim he hisses with the need to get back in. To get to the magical land of completion.
And yet, at the same time, Jensen doesn’t want it to end. There’s something mystic about it, about coming together with someone so inherently different from himself, about touching and being touched after all the horror he’s lived with since the night of the accident.
It’s silly, a cliché to end all clichés, but in this moment Jensen feels complete. The scrape of Jared’s teeth against his lips and the dig of Jared’s nails into his pecs ground him and remind him that he’s still here, that’s he’s very much alive, and that he’s found someone to push him to continue living the life he’d begun to squander.
Jared gasps, twisting just right, and Jensen shifts his hips to keep the angle and try to hit Jared’s prostate with more accuracy. He’s almost embarrassed by how quickly he feels his orgasm approaching, and Jensen slides his hand from Jared’s hip to his cock and starts to jack him, alternating the intensity of the pressure and the speed in the interest of driving Jared just as crazy as he’s being driven.
Flesh slapping against flesh, panting breaths, and then Jared’s eyes fly open close to his and Jared breathes his name out once before he jerks hard against Jensen’s grip and comes. Jensen lasts through maybe two seconds of it before he’s coming himself in the tight confines of Jared’s ass.
He rides it out, thrusts through the last of his orgasm and continues to squeeze the head of Jared’s sensitive dick to prolong the joy of the orgasm, and then when he can’t keep focus on it anymore he lets go and feels Jared’s dick flop against his stomach before the whole weight of the man lands on him.
Jensen is breathless for a second, and then he gently pushes at Jared’s shoulder and Jared carefully rolls off, breathing deep and long beside Jensen.
“Holy shit.” Jared drops his arm over his eyes and lets out a little hoot.
“Holy shit indeed. I haven’t done that in so long.”
A little grin curves Jared’s lips, and Jensen wishes he could see his eyes.
“Yeah, me neither.”
Jensen lets that one go, and instead lifts Jared’s arm just enough so that he can make eye contact.
“This may be kinda fast, and a little bit corny, but I think I’m in love with you.”
There’s a beat, where Jensen thinks that Jared is going to panic or not answer, and then Jared’s eyes crinkle and his mouth pulls up into a tremendous grin followed by a deep laugh. Eventually the laughter has Jared curling around his own stomach, and Jensen wants to laugh with him but he’s not sure he’s not the joke.
Finally Jared gets control of himself, and he looks Jensen directly in the eyes.
“Well damn darling, me too. But I thought we established that when you moved in with me.”
Jensen is supremely pleased he can’t accidentally smother Jared when he covers his boyfriend’s face with a pillow and presses down.
----
The morning sun wakes Jensen up none too gently, and it takes him a moment to figure out why the curtains are open. Jared stands in the beam, sunlight playing off his skin and shadowing the dips and hollows of his bones. Jensen wants to lick every one of them.
“Well. You’re an early riser.”
Jared gives the ghost of a smile as he turns fully to look at Jensen casting half his face in shadow.
“I don’t really sleep. Are you sure you want to stay Jensen? The house is going to change.”
“With any luck the house already changed. And yes. I’m sure. Now let’s go make some breakfast, because I’m starving, and then we’ll kick Aldis and Chris out and I’ll show you how much better my shoulder feels.”
Jensen watches Jared redress, focuses on the fact that he has to do up every little button and buckle. His own clothes slip on easier, and the two of them are headed down the stairs to the smell of coffee Jensen is already homing in on when last night’s question occurs to him.
“Do you have like…a wardrobe somewhere?”
“Not that I know of. I just…wear these.”
“Maybe we could get you to just wear something a little more current.”
A distasteful look is sent towards Jensen’s outfit.
Jeff is standing in the foyer, and Jensen waves to him and gets a tentative wave back. They round the corner and find Chris and Aldis already making breakfast in the big kitchen. Chris grins over a sizzling pan of bacon, and Aldis pours Jensen coffee and holds it out with a smirk.
“Poor Jared. Had to deal with the pre-coffee ogre Jensen.”
“I am a delight.” Jensen mumbles it around a mouthful and doesn’t miss Aldis rolling his eyes or Jared grinning in response.
“So I noticed we ain’t totally done with ghosts round here. Y’all all planning on staying?”
Jared sits down beside Jensen and shrugs delicately.
“Probably not all of us? There’s no telling what’s after this, and people with someone already here will probably stay. Charles and Adrianne, Laura and Samantha, and maybe Chad but that’s just because he’d miss the beer. I know Jeff’s probably pretty eager to try to find his wife.”
Chris flips the bacon and a frown crinkles the skin between his eyes. Aldis shares a look with him before turning to Jared.
“Why wouldn’t he stay here with his wife?”
“Because his wife isn’t here.” Jared pours a little sugar into Jensen’s coffee and ignores Jensen slapping at his hand.
“Why wouldn’t his wife be here?” Chris turns the burner off and steps forward, and apparently he and Aldis are sharing a line of thought but Jensen will be damned if he knows what it is.
“Because she didn’t die here? She’s never been here.”
And that’s when it hits Jensen. The thing that has been wiggling at the back of his brain and nipping at his tongue. He thought it was the blueprints, the ones Chris kept pulling out and poring over, because that’s what Jensen is trained to see. That’s where his eyes naturally go. To structures and plans, to carefully graphed out maps of places to live and eat. To work.
Jensen’s never been very good at looking at people. At sheets of facts and statistics. Or in this case, printed out microfiche articles from seemingly ancient times.
Chris says it before Jensen can think to stop him.
“She did die here. In the storm. Same as Jeff.”
The cabinet fronts explode, glasses and cups flying out and crashing against the wall and countertops. Drawers roll open and cooking implements go flying around the room bouncing off surfaces and slamming into the three of them. Jared jumps up and begins shouting for it to stop, for them to run, but Jensen is frozen on the spot.
Aldis lets out a wail, a paring knife sticking out of his thigh, and Chris grabs him and pulls him towards the back door. Jensen watches like a man in a nightmare, and then Jared is picking him up and running for the door. Everything is flying past him, and they pass Chris and Aldis stumbling along against each other. Jensen sees the border of the property, has time to think that maybe this is a dream because this sort of stuff isn’t supposed to happen on bright and sunny days with the birds chirping and the breeze blowing, and then they hit the edge of the property and Jensen is flying through the air and slamming into the ground.
Breath is driven out of him on impact, and Jensen rolls on the prickly grass and looks up to see Aldis and Chris skidding over the property border, and the back door of the house slamming shut with no one touching it.
Chris is out of breath, holding Aldis up and wiping streaks of blood from shards of glass off his face. None of them say the obvious, that they were wrong, that they’re not conquering heroes, but they do huddle together and stare hopelessly back onto the property where they aren’t safe, but where Jensen needs to return.
Because whatever is in there, whatever is waiting, it now has Jared and is supremely pissed off.
---
Deacon Misha is sipping his coffee, staring at the three of them with surprise and interest, but no disbelief. He’s listened to the entire story from beginning to end, and his only contribution so far has been noises to tell them to continue.
Jensen is beginning to believe he’s not really listening, because at some point any sane person would have stopped them and told them they were full of shit.
Or maybe he’s insane.
Chris is describing the last moment, the kitchen going wild, and Jensen thinks of Jared being ported back into the house after carrying Jensen to safety. Did it hurt to be pulled back like that? Was it scary? It had to be maddening to know where the boundaries of your world were. To be unable to cross them.
The irony of his mild and recently acquired agoraphobia in relation to that thought is not worth contemplating. Instead Jensen looks up to see Aldis showing the Deacon his bandaged thigh and proclaiming that it was a butcher knife that he handily dodged so that he only got a small wound.
“So, this whole time you guys have been working with the assumption that the house was the evil because it’s always kept the souls, but that can’t be true because one of them is missing.”
Aldis makes a face and Chris cuts in before his boyfriend can take real offense.
“It seemed like a realistic belief at the time father, and I gotta tell you this ain’t exactly our specialty.”
Jensen wonders if he’ll feel guilty later that he destroyed the work of art that was once his ancient fireplace.
“I’m a deacon, and it’s not really my specialty either. But this sounds like a pretty classic horror movie plot. Every time you think the monster is dead it turns out it isn’t. So if it isn’t the house it’s got to be one of the ghosts. Jeff? He was the first, right?”
Chris pulls out all the information they got during their research phase and spreads it out over the table, but Jensen knows who it is. At least he thinks he does. There was a gap after Jeff, a time when all that was left on the property was a lonely fireplace and the ruins of Jeff’s dream.
What do they always say about ghosts in movies? That they’re people with unfinished business? Jensen wonders what she could have left to do, what could possibly keep someone so young behind. More importantly, he wonders what kind of little girl she was that this is what she is now. None of the other ghosts act like her, and as far as he knows none of them are able to control each other.
Maybe she was a willful child, someone who could manipulate and shape the adults around her. Spoiled and used to getting her way. He thinks of The Bad Seed, remembers how badly it creeped him out the first time Matt showed it to him.
And now he’s living it, albeit in a more traditional horror sense than a thriller one. Jensen reaches past the talking group of men around him and drags the relevant paper forward. It’s small, just a blurb about her death and her grieving parents, but Jensen remembers it clearly.
“This one. Sierra. This is the one.”
Aldis squints and then looks up at Jensen.
“Because of the timeline or the rash of creepy little kid movies?”
“The timeline. Look at it. Jeff dies, and then there’s no house and no direct deaths on the property until Sierra’s family moves in. Suddenly she dies, and every person that dies after is stuck there. I’ve seen her the least, Jared is the only one who talks to her directly, and she tried to scare me into falling down the stairs one day.”
“She threw you down the stairs?” Chris stands, hackles raised, and Jensen is touched and amused considering the attacker in question. Which is immediately followed by embarrassment when Jensen has to clarify.
“No. But she popped out of a corner when I was on them and I fell backwards. The other ghosts saved me. She just sat there. And she’s aggressive.”
Because sure, Jared stuck up for her, but Jensen has a better view of the situation than Jared does. Jensen can see clearly, because as much as he likes the ghosts the only one that he’s biased towards is Jared. And Jared is not the problem. Came way too late in the timeline to be the issue.
Jensen should have seen it then. Sure, the little girl has been around long enough to be an adult several times over, but her behavior was all wrong. The others had certainly, to one extent or another, gained knowledge of modern behavior and technology, but they hadn’t changed personalities. They hadn’t grown like that.
Sierra on the other hand acted nothing like a little girl. Not the kind Jensen was used to. And she never joined the group to enjoy herself, never got to know Jensen, and never spent time with the other ghosts.
It’s her. He’s sure of it. But now he has to figure out what to do about it.
“Misha. If she’s buried in the graveyard is there something you can do to send her spirit on? A blessing or something?”
Misha frowns thoughtfully at the print out of the newspaper blurb before looking up at Jensen.
“I can give her Last Rites, and that may do it. If it doesn’t I know maybe one other thing that would work. But we’d need shovels. And time. Can she attack us if we’re on the property?”
“Yeah. They can travel all the way to the edge. And if she ain’t gonna do it she can apparently use the other ghosts to do it. Which is damn unpleasant let me tell you.” Chris is still up, hand rubbing at the scratches on his face, but he has that glint in his eyes that Jensen knows means he’s got a plan and he’s going to do it come Hell or high water.
Which, considering the storm clouds building outside, might be both.
Aldis perks up, a smile on his face that is more than a little manic.
“Hey Jen, you said some of them know how to use modern technology right?”
“Yeah. A bunch of them have learned from families that have moved in.”
“But the evil little girl hasn’t?”
Jensen considers his answer before giving it. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t have much involvement at all with the living. Or the dead really.”
“Do you have your cell phone on you?”
He pats his pockets and then shakes his head. Not entirely sure where Aldis is going with this.
“I must have forgotten to grab it in between waking up and being attacked by a crazy ghost.”
Aldis pulls out his own phone, dials, and then waits for a bit before putting it on speaker. The voice on the other end is Chad, and he sounds both amused and a little buzzed. Which is normal, and good to hear. He’s not being used by Sierra.
“-Jensen’s phone but he isn’t here right now. Can I take a message?”
“Chad. Chad it’s Jensen. Is there anybody else around?”
A beat, a thump, and then the sound of the bedroom door closing.
“Nope. Not a single one. Everybody scattered when they saw what happened. Jared’s guilting himself into a coma, and Samantha is working hard to help him but she’s having an off day. Dude, I thought you fixed this shit, but everybody’s in a weird mood now and it just seems worse. Are you coming back?”
“Chad, I need you to focus. Do you know where Sierra is?”
“…Uh. No? She’s not my biggest fan. Told me I had the brain cells of a houseplant. Which was kinda mean to be honest, because I’m actually pretty smart. I mean, I think so. But you know there’s no accounting for-“
“I need you to find her. I need you to find her and keep her busy ok? We think we know what went wrong, and how to fix it, but if she knows about it then it might not work. Can you do that?”
Chad laughs, and then his voice drops in volume and gains a terrible British accent. “Whatever you say M. I can keep my cover in the worst situations.”
Aldis covers his mouth to smother a burst of surprised laughter, and Misha doesn’t even bother. Jensen isn’t laughing, but he’s glad Chad is so in the present. It’s a good sign, and it gives him hope.
“Alright man. Just keep her as busy as you can and away from the back of the house.”
“Will do.”
----
The skies crack open as they turn onto his street, and Jensen shivers as a strike of lightning illuminates the house in perfect dramatic timing and is followed close by a crack of thunder.
“This better work this time, because I’m using all my badass credit up on this house. I might need some later this year to intimidate Chris.”
“Like you ever had any to make that work.” Chris shifts in the driver seat, unbuckles his belt and scans the street slow and careful.
Beside Jensen, Misha is busily kissing his stole, placing it around his shoulders, and removing a variety of items Jensen has seen in movies from a gilded box. It’s a new side to the Deacon, because every movement is carefully done and reverent. Jensen wasn’t entirely sure he was capable of such an emotion.
The rain pounds against the car, and Jensen is gripped by a sudden and made desire to tell Chris to turn the car around and take them back. They can do this tomorrow when the sun is out again and there isn’t the very heavens telling them that they’re trapped in a cycle of horror and madness.
Except if he waits he’ll chicken out. He has a history of it. He’s refused to face the facts about the accident until he was forced to. He’s locked himself away until now when he had something else to be panicked about than the thought of another crash.
If Jensen pauses this he’ll never come back. It’s not the most flattering of personal realizations, but Jensen is a coward, and if he chickens out of this one he’ll be leaving Jared to the depravity of something Jensen cannot even begin to understand. He has to do this.
A hand lands on his knee, and he looks at it for a long time before following it back up to Misha’s face. All of them are looking at him he realizes, but it’s Misha’s piercing gaze that holds his attention.
“You can do this. For your new friends. For yourself. You can do this Jensen.”
And Jensen nods. Because he can. He can do this. He just has to get out of the car.
----
The rain is warm, and the grass and ground are already soaked. Jensen’s bad leg slips more than he cares to admit, but he keeps upright and holds onto his shovel in the interest of making it to the end of this. Because he has to see the end. He has to know that Jared is safe. Distantly he wonders if getting rid of Sierra will take the idea of choice away. When it was just the house Jensen was worried, but he believed and Jared stayed.
Considering how his luck has been turning out there’s a very real possibility that doing this will make him single again. It seems like a cold way to break up with someone.
Jensen leads the group down the street, through the backyards of the neighbors he’s never met, and then skirting along the edge of his own property. There’s a light on upstairs that shines through one of the stained glass windows in the ballroom, and Jensen wonders who it is up there, and why they’d turn the lights on.
He forgets the question when he slips and finds Chris’s strong hands holding him up. When this is over he’s going to take a nice long hot bath, and let everything rest, because rainy days are the worst on the formerly pinned joints.
Normality, he’ll have normality, and isn’t that great?
The trees sway around them in the rain, and then break open faster than he expected to show them the opposite side of the graveyard than he’s used to. He stares at the low stones, lightning illuminating them for a second before they’re plunged back into darkness except for the flashlight beams.
It’s slow going picking their way through the stones. The varying heights and placement make it difficult to pick a specific path to take through to the other side, and the wet earth sucks at their shoes and causes them to slip on uneven patches.
One death in between Jeff and Sierra, and Jensen must have assumed that it was the Pellegrino nephew. But it wasn’t. Jensen remembers asking Jared about the bodies, Jared specifying that they weren’t all buried there. Pellegrino’s body must have been moved somewhere else, and the smooth stone beside Jeff’s was for his wife Hilarie.
Which means the little stone, destroyed with what Jensen had assumed was time and weather, is Sierra’s. They stop in front of it, and Misha pulls at his wet robes and stole before he nods to them. They begin to dig.
Jensen tries to keep pace with Chris and Aldis, but he’s slipping too much to be as useful as he’d like. He realizes he doesn’t know anything about burial rules in the time Sierra died. Will she be a full six feet under? Will there be a cement casing around the coffin that they have to break through? He knows that the scenes in movie and TV where one man digs a grave in a short period of time is bullshit.
They’re hip deep when Jensen’s shovel strikes wood. Apparently he was making more progress than he thought.
Misha and Aldis hold flashlights while Jensen and Chris clear the last of the earth from the top of the coffin. It’s small, old and decaying wood rotted through in places, and Jensen can see a strange pattern that was probably once prominently carved into the oak and now simply gave off an unsettling vibe in the shaky light provided by his friends.
A groan accompanies the opening of the lid, a crack of thunder, and then Jensen hears a shout that sends him flying back into the edge of the grave they’ve dug up, mud sliding down the back of his shirt and seeping through his pants. Aldis shrieks and Chris spins with his shovel, but the only shape standing there in the rain is Jared.
Long hair is plastered to his head and neck, and his eyes are huge and dark. He stares at the group of them with horror evident on his face, and Jensen wonders if Jared is here how close behind Sierra will be. The rain will wash away any salt they try to put down, and they’re basically defenseless.
Maybe waiting wouldn’t have been cowardice.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?”
Chris opens his mouth, but it’s Jensen that responds. Jared deserves that.
“Setting things right Jared. Where’s Sierra?”
Jared looks around the tableau they create, eyes lingering on Misha, and then turns to Jensen.
“Inside. Samantha is talking to her. Jensen, Jensen stop and look at what you’re doing. If you’re wrong you’re sending an innocent girl to who knows what. If this even works. What if it really is the house? What if the fireplace wasn’t the heart of the problem?”
He swallows, licks rainwater off his lips and tries to find a good way to respond that isn’t pleading. He needs to sound confident, because his confidence will carry on to Jared.
“I’m sure. I’m sure Jared. It’s Sierra. And this will stop it. This will set free the people who want to leave and clear the house. It’ll make it safe for me to stay with you.”
“Or it will send her to someplace worse. I’ve known her for a long time Jensen. A long time. She’s not evil.”
Jensen hoists himself out of the ground as smoothly as he can, slipping just a bit and then standing on the uneven and muddy ground and staring at Jared. He must look a mess, covered in grave mud and soaked to the bone. His shoulder is screaming and his leg aches worse than it has in a long time. He wants to go inside. Draw a long hot bath and drag Jared into it. He wants to settle down and live here, in this house, with the man he loves. But to do so he has to destroy someone Jared considers a friend.
And he might be wrong. This might be false confidence the same way the fireplace was. Jared might be right.
But Jensen is willing to risk it. Even if it means Jared will resent him he’s willing to risk it. Because Jared deserves to have a choice. He deserves to decide where he wants to go for his afterlife, he deserves to know the truth about who he’s cared for all this time, and he deserves to know that Jensen is just this selfish. If that’s the way he sees it.
“Jared, I’m sorry, you’re going to see I’m right. Misha. Do it.”
Misha’s voice is drowned out temporarily by the blowing wind and thunder, and Jensen misses large portions of it after that because he spends the ceremony staring at Jared. They’re locked there, the grave between them and storm raging around them, and Jensen wants to move forward and can’t.
Logically he knows that he might require forgiveness after this. That being right doesn’t automatically absolve him from his ignoring Jared’s wishes. That being said, Jensen certainly hopes it does.
When a heavy hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder he doesn’t turn, but he hears Misha say, “It’s done Jensen.”
And he wonders whether that’s true, and if so how much of it is done. Either way he breaks eye contact to put the heavy mud back into the grave, and when he looks up Jared is still there. Jensen takes that as a good sign. He has to.
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Date: 2014-08-03 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-16 05:15 pm (UTC)