Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She floated aimlessly in a deep, dark void. She didn't have a shape anymore, or if she did, she couldn't feel it.

She had hoped that there would be more to the afterlife than this, but it was better than Hell, she supposed. If it existed, she'd almost certainly be sent there. Sure, she was only a child, and she'd been all but forced to turn to violence, but she'd known what might happen when She decided to take that plushie home. So in a way, it had been all her fault.

Her negative thought patterns were put on pause when she saw something take shape in the distance. No way…

She would've laughed if she had the parts to do so; it was none other than the 'light at the end of the tunnel' everyone talked about. It was bright like the sun, but didn't hurt her eyes when she stared into it, even after being smothered in darkness for who knows how long.

Well, it's better late than never, I guess.

Somehow, she managed to propel herself towards and into it. When the warm brightness fully engulfed her "body," she suddenly realized that she could feel her form again. Looking down, she could see that she was wearing the same dress she had been when she died. Her skin had lost its blue coloration from her ghost hood, and now looked the same as it had when she was alive. Speaking of feeling alive, her stomach began to protest her current position and lurched nauseatingly. She tilted her head back up, which resulted in a wave of dizziness. She groaned. Now, this is a part of being alive that I didn't miss.

"Ah, so you have finally arrived."

She jumped at the powerful sounding voice booming in the now white void, not helping with the constant sensation of being about to go splat on a hard surface at any moment. "It's mostly my fault you are so late."The voice continued. "I didn't have the portal open for you until about a minute ago, or what passes for it around here. I didn't think you would give up the ghost—haha—for another few centuries yet. Nevertheless, it is good to finally meet you, Cailey."

"Uh…" Her voice also echoes, but not the same way it did as a ghost, and not quite the same as the other voice either. "Are you… God? A-and also… I uh, I go by Spooky now."

Spooky found herself stuttering more than usual. She'd never thought this moment would come, and dreaded the possibility of it. When Ron had banished Bessie from their dimension with very dubious methods, and Zoe and Specimen 9 "visited" her afterwords, she'd felt that the best option would be to cross over, away from their ire. They thought they had forced her to leave, but nope; that was just Spooky's one last screw you to them. But now, floating in the presence of this incredibly powerful entity which was almost certainly God, well…

Rather than answering her question, the voice just laughed. "You're in my domain now. In my domain, there are no secrets, no masks."

Spooky huffs. The novelty of being able to do so again takes the edge off her frustration.

"As for who I am, well, that's tricky. Sometimes I'm God, sometimes I'm The Devil. Sometimes I'm nice, sometimes not so much. I have more names than there are grains of sand. I can't even think of them all off the top of my head."

"Well uh, is there something I can call you?" Spooky asks, starting to feel a bit impatient. Getting impatient with God (if that's even who this is) was not how she expected this to play out, but she'd never expected this to play out at all in the first place, so…

"Hmm. Well, I can't tell you my personal name for personal reasons, but I guess you can call me B.O.B. It stands for Big, Omnipotent Being. That's what I am if you haven't picked that up yet."

Spooky doesn't even try holding back her laugh. "You want me to call you Bob?"

B.O.B. also laughs. "You want me to call you Spooky?" They quip.

"Touché, I guess," Spooky says through a sigh.

"Right, then. Now that that's out of the way, time to get on with business. As you've probably guessed by now, this is the part where I judge you and decide where you'll spend eternity. But to be completely honest with you, I have no idea what I should do with you."

Spooky suddenly finds herself watching flashbacks of her life. Weird, I thought this kinda thing usually happens before someone dies.

"At first, you seemed like an okay kid, all things considered. But then that cow came along. She watches as Bessie convinces her to try to scare Mr. Peterson, followed by her untimely death via shotgun to the face. Even now, it's one of the things that still makes her cringe.

"You became violent," A random person in the Mansion plays Mrs. Spook, the first game she had created for the Mansion. "Egotistical,"Paintings upon paintings of herself hanging on the walls. "And cruel." Of course B.O.B had to pick the time, she watched on, laughing as GL Labs workers swarmed Specimen 9, beating him mercilessly with sledgehammers even as he pulled desperately at their souls.

"But the Mad Cow, that's what the thing that lead you down this path is called, horrible bugger, is very persuasive. It can play with your body and manipulate your thoughts." B.O.B. Chuckles ruefully. "Hell, I never thought I'd see the day it'd be taken down a peg or two, in this timeline, at least. My perception of time, space, and all things worldly is a little kooky if you know what I'm saying."

Spooky giggles too, but it's more uncomfortable than anything else. "Heh, yeah, I get that."

"Anywho, I should probably just toss you in Heaven and be done with it, but do you really deserve that? I mean, you didn't do anything too terrible of your own volition in life, but your ghost hood? We just went over that, and it's not pretty, not at all. And we don't usually count things during ghosthood, cause what's a little haunting between buds, am I right? But this was much more than that."

Spooky's mouth goes dry. She was afraid this was where this would lead.

B.O.B. Either doesn't notice her fear, or chooses not to acknowledge it, for they continue on in an unnervingly casual manner. "Course, you don't really deserve Hell either, though you'll probably be happy to know it's not nearly as fire and brimstone as cough cough, some people cough"

"D-Did you just say 'cough?' Like, out loud?"

"—would have you believe. It's the homeland of most demons, yes, but burning forever is a waste of perfectly good souls if you ask me. It's more like a correctional boot camp. You pay for your sins in life, and then if you've improved, you can try for Heaven or reincarnation. And before you ask, no. Being part of the LGBTQIA+ umbrella IS NOT a qualifying factor for Hell."

"Uh, I didn't ask? But good to know, I guess? So, about my afterlife…"

"I mean, come on! We have murderers, rapists, kidnappers, and well, I'm not going to list every awful thing people do to get sent to Hell, but the point is Karen, we don't have time or space to fit all the 'gays' as you so ignorantly call every slightly not cishet person in hell even if we wanted to!"

"Um… bob?"

"Seriously! If there's one thing that gets on my nerves, it's people who hate something they don't even really know about. It is by far the most irritating thing to deal with!"

"Bob?"

"I mean, come on! If you're going to insult something or someone, put in the effort to actually know what you're insulting! It all just falls flat otherwise! Not that I'm condoning insulting people, but—"

"Bob!" Spooky finally shouts, having become fed up with the deity, if that's even what this was, and their ramblings. It was the loudest she'd ever shouted in years.

"Wh—oh! Right, sorry about that, Cailey; back to the subject at hand."

Spooky couldn't help but let out a massive sigh of relief at this; this being was really starting to weird her out. A voice in the back of her mind told her that this was probably because they reminded her of a certain someone, which she promptly forced away. No need to reopen that can of worms so soon.

"Now, I've thought about this for a while, which is why you were left in the Void for so long, sorry about that. And I've finally come to a decision." They pause for dramatic effect, and the light surrounding Spooky seems to grow slightly dimmer. B.O.B. continues with a lowered, solemn tone. "This thing you created alongside the Mad Cow, that Eldritch abomination of death and chaos, what's it called? Oh yes, the Jump Scare Mansion. Even though it's softened up a great deal, it is still alive and thriving. And this might not seem like a big deal, given that it's not really dangerous to anyone anymore, well, there's a certain way the universe runs, Cailey. Sort of similar to how everything and everyone in your mansion had a certain thing they needed to be doing in order for things to go smoothly. And when that's disrupted…" They trail off, allowing Spooky's mind to wander back to her humiliating defeat at the hands of Zoe and Specimen 9. She really wishes they'd stop making her think about it. Is this my punishment? She can't help but wonder.

"Basically, the Mansion has disrupted the natural state of the universe and everything's going to go sideways if nobody pulls the plug to stop it."

"Uh, okay?" Spooky utters. She realizes too late that this might not have been the best thing to say, but it'd already been done. "So, why not send Zoe to help with that? She's really good at, uh, messing up my—the Mansion."

"Oh, I'm sending her." B.O.B. clarifies. "But as you should know by now, Zoe's never alone on her adventures. They always have a companion. And what better person to fill that role? What could possibly be more poetic, and hilarious, than the one who helped start it all being the one to help end it?"

Shocked at what exactly the entity was getting at, Spooky tried to ask them what exactly they meant. But to her growing dread, she found herself losing her form again and was unable to speak.

"Get ready, Cailey O'Connor!" B.O.B.'s voice echoed dramatically as everything began to fade out. "Get ready for round two! Well, technically it's round three, but round two sounds much more dramatic, wouldn't you agree?"

Spooky's mind was an erratic jumble of thoughts, bouncing frantically from one notion to another as black began to fill her vision once more. The final coherent thought she managed before she lost consciousness completely was …They?

Chapter Text

Even though it technically doesn’t mean as much as others, I was super hyped for my seventeenth birthday, as I am with all others. It’s not my sweet sixteen, which I don’t really give a crap about anyway because I’m aroace and have no intention of ever dating. And it’s not my all-grown-up eighteenth, which I’m honestly dreading more than looking forward to. This was just another, ordinary, another year older kind of birthday.

That doesn’t actually bother me, though. I could do with some kind of everyday celebration right about now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not turning into one of those ungrateful, whiny ‘why can’t I just be normal uwu’ fantasy protagonists. [do people even like those kinds of characters? Do they find them relatable? Why are so many fantasy leads written like that?] Still, my last big adventure through Karamari Hospital kinda took a tole on my psyche, and not just because of the evil cow monster trying to possess me. Though that is a big part of it.

It had been several months since that faithful adventure (it was in the summer and now it’s November) but parts of it stuck with me. The upper levels of the Mansion I’d explored before had been downright jovial in comparison. A love letter to common horror tropes and the creatures associated with them. But Karamari Hospital? It’s origin story and the aftermath of that that made it feel more real, more grounded in the reality we know outside fictional stories, even with the undoubtedly supernatural elements. It freaked me out. And I’m sort of ashamed to admit that, because I’d hardly batted an eye at all the stuff that went down before that. I wasn’t even that scared when Taker had attacked me after regaining his body; I was more sad than anything else.

But I wasn’t going to think about that, not today. Today, I was going to have fun celebrating my birthday with my friends. AFter The-Journey-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, I’d made a habit of visiting the Mansion regularly after Mom ungrounded me, effectively weirding out everyone in town. Most folks were too nervous to ask me about it, and those who did never believe what I told them. I especially got a kick out of spending nights and sometimes entire weekends there. Then I got to see people’s surprised pikachu faces when I always came back, alive and well, just in time for school. As funny as it is, I can’t help but wonder why they haven’t gotten over it already. The freaking pandemic that swept the nation is practically old news compared to my new favorite haunting ground.

Taker and a few other inhabitants had planned a party for me. It was originally supposed to be a surprise, but no one in the Mansion knows how to keep secrets. I’m not quite sure when/how I got wind of it. Was it Ringu baking a massive cake that it’d take weeks for us to finish? Was it Goopboy stuck in wrapping paper, desperately whaling for help? Or maybe it was sweet little Esmie, who was slowly but surely acclimating to her new life, remarking one day that she’d never been to a birthday party before and was overjoyed to have been invited to mine. At any case, everyone knew about it, and everyone was hyped.

Well, there were some hurtles. We originally planned for Mom to be in attendance; she wanted to see the Mansion and my friends for herself, and now was a great time to do that. But she’d recently gotten a job working for the census, and would have to work that day. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t bummed, but come rain or shine, I was determined to have a fantastic seventeenth birthday! Even if the universe conspired against me to insure otherwise.

Things went south before the day even began. In the night hours leading from November 2 to November 3, I started to have weird, unsettling dreams. I wasn’t a stranger to nightmares, especially after Bessie got its disgusting jaws on me, but these were different. They were strangely vivid, in a different way than my lucid dreams are. Almost like they were coming from outside myself.

In the first dream, I was in the Mansion, nothing too unusual since I dream about the Mansion pretty often. I was carefully making my way across a bridge with a seemingly bottomless pit below. The whole time, I had the nerve wracking feeling that something, or someone was lurking in the depths of the abyss, hoping I’d fall down so they could snatch me up. As I got closer to the exit, I started seeing motion in the corner of my eye that would vanish if I tried to look at it directly.

When I finally made it to the door, it disappeared when I reached out to open it, being replaced by a giant ball of white light. It was extremely bright, but it didn’t hurt my eyes. Somehow, I knew that the light was alive. There’s power radiating off it, but it doesn’t feel threatening.

“Your bravery and wit has taken you far,” it says. “Could it take you farther?”

It suddenly sucks me inside, and I suddenly feel heat on my face. I ‘wake up’ with a start, and realize that the light in my vision is actually coming from a candle flame, and my hair is about to fall into it! I jump back before my hair can catch on fire, and realize that I’m standing in the middle of a circle of candles.

Feeling even more uneasy, I look around and notice the circle is broken up by a black doorway full of fog. I feel compelled to approach it. When I get closer, I start to see images of people swirling in the mists.

“Help them,” The same voice that had come from the light whispers in my ear. “Set them free.”

My eyes open slowly. I can feel the mattress underneath me, and the blankets tangled around my legs. There’s a well-loved plushie cradled in my arms. It feels like I’m awake for real this time, but I can’t be sure.

Suddenly, I get the feeling that I’m being watched. A false awakening, then. I decide. And of course, it had to be one of these.

I slowly uncurl and roll onto my back, expecting to see Bessie. That’s usually how this sort of nightmare goes. Instead, I’m in for quite the shock, as my brain has decided to shake up the formula.

The girl standing motionlessly at the foot of my bed is a lot less translucent [and blue] than I’m used to seeing, but there’s no denying who this is. Long blue hair, inky black eyes, shiny Bowie knife, it had to be none other than Spooky!

“Aaahhh!” Abandoning all rational thoughts and giving in to pure, primal instincts, I launch myself from my bed, putting all my weight into a ferocious punch. Much to both our surprise, it hits, and Spooky is sent tumbling backwards, falling in a heap on the floor. My so-not-awake-enough-for-this-crap brain scrambles to catch up with the situation, but my mouth, being the impatient jerk it is, blurts out: “Don’t get any blood on the carpet!”

Chapter Text

My brain felt seconds away from bluescreening. Somehow, Spooky was in my room! And also back from the dead? What?!

As the pint-sized tyrant groans and holds her nose as she stumbles her way to her feet, I wonder if this is yet another really vivid dream. Pinching myself usually doesn’t work to verify this, (I feel pain in my dreams, lucky me) so I try to push my right index finger through my left palm. Try as I might, it won’t go through. So, this is real. Great.

“…Damnit.” I turn to face my second-greatest foe, [Bessie’s the first greatest] my increasingly aware mind unhelpfully pointing out that I’m only dressed in an extra large men’s’ t-shirt and underwear.

“What are you doing in my room? How are you alive again? For god’s sake, pinch your nose! You’re bleeding all over yourself; it’s disgusting.”

The crazy preteen who should be six feet under and in the afterlife right now looks as confused and disoriented as I feel, but she does what I ask. It’s not enough to save her dress, though; its once pure white now marred with uneven blotches of red.

“That last one’s your fault,” She says, and wow. It’s really weird hearing her talk without the ghostly reverb. It’s also more nasally because of the whole stopping her nosebleed thing.

I put my hands on my hips. “Sorry, not sorry. You were watching me sleep, and you have a knife. Gimme that.”

In one swift movement, I hop forward and pluck the blade from Spooky’s loose grip. “Hey!” I then put it on top of my wardrobe as far back as I can get it so Spooky can’t reach it. My time at the Mansion has done wonders for my reflexes. I also take this opportunity to grab a pair of sweatpants lying on the floor, and I shimmy into them as I turn to face a now pouting Spooky.

“You still haven’t answered my questions,” I insist. I feel a lot more confident and intimidating now that I’m wearing pants. “How, and why, are you here?”

Spooky lets out a long, world-weary sigh, as if I’m the one being a nuisance here. “When I crossed over, I talked to this uh, what was it? Some sort of powerful entity? They said that the universe was breaking because of my—the mansion, and then they brought me back to life because, I don’t know. I guess I’m supposed to help you fix it? Somehow?”

I can’t help it. That explanation, accompanied by Spooky’s on-brand awkward delivery of it, was enough for me to promptly burst out laughing. Or maybe it’s because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep; the sun wasn’t even up yet. Spooky glowers, but I don’t give a crap. “Ahahaha! That is the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“It was even dumber to live it,” Spooky grumbles. “…die it? Whatever, that is really what happened.”

I think about asking Spooky why I should believe her, but ultimately decide against it. There are more important things to focus on. “Riiight,” I drawl. “And did this powerful entity that you spoke to provide any insight as to how to fix the universe?”

“Nope~” Spooky says simply, admiring her bloodied dress. I’m going to have to find her something else to wear.

“Great, of course.” I then ask Spooky to turn around, so I can get dressed properly. She thankfully does so without complaint, and I change as quick as possible. “Alright I’m done; you can look now.”

Spooky frowns when she sees my outfit. “Really? The same thing again?”

“First of all, it’s iconic.” I strike a pose. “Second, of all the things I’ve said about you, have you even once heard me say anything about that torn blue dress you always wore? Speaking of dresses, you’re gonna have to change yours so it can be washed.”

Spooky’s eyes narrow. “That’s not happening.”

I facepalm. Hard. “If you think it looks scary, it doesn’t. You just look like a slob who doesn’t bother to clean bodily fluids off herself.” Harsh, but justified. And fortunately, this makes her relent.

“Fine.”

Trying to keep my eyes on the small girl who’s ruined so many lives as I do so, I open up my closet and rummage inside. Mom’s kind of bad about getting rid of things we no longer need, so I should be able to find something I’ve outgrown that should fit Spooky. I strike gold when I find a simple pink dress with white flowers all over it. It used to be super comfortable, but even so I’m not really a fan of dresses or pink so I didn’t wear it often.

I pull the dress from its hanger and toss it to my uninvited guest. “Put that on.”

Spooky makes a face, but does as I ask, tossing her soiled dress onto the bed. I grab it before any untried blood can get on the sheets.” I need to put Spray-and-Wash on this,” I explain. “You can either wait here or in the dining room while I do that, then we’ll have breakfast and talk about this whole ‘fixing the universe’ thing.”

Spooky mutters some unsavory things about me and how I can’t order her around like this. But she opens my bedroom door and walks out. I follow not too far behind.

Trying to ignore Spooky making herself comfortable at the table, I hurry into the laundry room. I spray down all the bloodstains of Spooky’s dress before tossing it in with a few other lightly colored things that needed to be washed. Mom’ll be happy I’m helping her out with this, I figure. As I toss things into the washing machine, I can’t help but wonder what this new development means, both for me and my friends.

With a jolt, I realize that my impromptu chore-completing session has caused me to leave Spooky alone longer than she ought to be, and I run back into the dining room, to be greeted with a terrible sight. Spooky stands hunched over my cake, (I’d forgotten it was on the table) nasty-looking steak knife in hand, inches away from dealing a devastating blow to the helpless dessert! This cannot stand, though it is the thing that reminds me: oh yeah, today’s my birthday. I’d forgotten about that due to my surprise visitor.

I’m at Spooky’s side in a matter of moments, and I bravely take the knife right out of her hand (this is going to be a running thing with us, isn’t it?) saving the life of my beloved birthday treat. “Ah ah ah, the birthday girl gets the first piece.”

Spooky starts to protest, but what I just said catches up with her. “It’s your birthday?” She wonders. “Actually, uh, what day is it? Like, what’s the date.”

“November 3,” I cheerfully proclaim as I make my way into the kitchen to replace Spooky’s choice of blade for a more appropriate cake-cutting apparatus. Not even Spooky, uninvited though she may be, would stop me from enjoying this day.

“That’s interesting,” She mutters as I rummage through the silverware drawer. “I crossed over back in summer, I think? So it’s uh, kinda odd Bob plopped me so far forward in time.”

I freeze. “The entity’s name is Bob?”

“That’s what they called themself: B.O.B. Big, omnipotent being.”

I facepalm with my left hand this time, since my right one’s buried in sporks and ice cream scoopers. This story sounds more ridiculous by the second.

I return to the dining room seconds later with a proper cake server, as well as two plates and forks. I also bring a Mellow Yellow for me, my favorite soda, and a juicebox for Spooky. I figured seeing one again would annoy her. The cake is yellow, with a mixture of vanilla and lemon-flavored icing on top. Mom had felt bad about not being able to spend my birthday together and had baked it for me herself. Since no one else is here besides Spooky, I decide against doing the candles and singing, to which my stomach is deeply grateful.

I cut a huge piece of cake for myself, and a substantially smaller one for Spooky. She doesn’t take issue with this save for a scowl, but the juicebox? That is what grants me a golden reaction.

“Are you kidding me?!” I’d not heard so much distress in the girl’s voice save for the time she tried to murder me after Taker didn’t.

If only I got this on video, I lament. I shrug, trying to look nonchalant as I sit down to enjoy my birthday cake. Well, one of my birthday cakes; I also had to start on the one baked by Ringu later today.

Spooky moodily unwraps the straw, stabbing it into the hole on the box as if it’s her latest murder victim. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I fill my mouth with cake until I look like a chipmunk. “Mmm!”

“So, uh,” Spooky starts after taking a sip of her grape juice. “You sure you didn’t, like, get any message from Bob yourself?”

“I o’ know,” I mumble around my cake. It’s absolutely delicious. I swallow, licking icing off my lips before continuing. “I did have some weird dreams, but I don’t know whether they were visions or not.”

Spooky takes her own bite of cake, and her eyes brighten. She quickly tries to hide how much she enjoys it, though. “Interesting. Those might give us a lead.”

“They were about the Mansion,” I reveal. I don’t really want to tell Spooky about them, but she was (apparently) supposed to help me, so I decide it can’t hurt. So I tell her, trying not to leave anything out. Spooky looks very intrigued once I’ve finished, but again, she tries to hide it.

“Yep~” She says with a nod, and a burp. “Pretty sure those dreams of yours are connected to our, uh, situation here.”

“How do you figure?” I ask, taking a large gulp of my drink. I am so not caffeinated enough for this crap.

“Well the light reminds me of what uh, what it was like when I was with Bob, but the doorway. That… that’s the most important part. In fact, I think it might be the thing that’s responsible for the—the instability of the universe thing?”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause believe it or not, there is something like that in the Mansion. The good old Hellgate 2000. My dad used to use it to gather a bunch of specimens.”

Remember what I said earlier about my brain almost bluescreening? I was wrong. This is a true bluescreen. My fork falls out of my hand as I’m left gaping. “Whoa—What?! Since when was your dad involved with this?”

Spooky shrugs, continuing to eat her cake as if the world wasn’t about to end. “Longer than I was. He actually was the one who founded GL Labs. Mom worked there too, but not as much. They never told me about it, though.” She huffs. “Anyway, maybe if we close the Hellgate, that’ll patch things up? Maybe? It’s uh, hard to say for sure…”

“How reassuring,” I grumble, deciding to focus on my cake for now.

For a few blessed minutes, we sit in silence as we eat. I’m 3/4 through my delicious birthday cake when Spooky speaks up again. “By the way, when I was talking to Bob. They um, they called you ‘they?’”

I jump in surprise, almost choking on my cake. I swallow it so I can take a deep breath. Why did this have to come up now? I’d hoped I could explain this later, with my friends to back me up, but noooo. At least this gives Spooky’s story a little more weight; I hadn’t told many people about my identity on the gender side of things, mostly because I felt like they wouldn’t understand. I didn’t understand for the longest time.

What business does this Bob thing have to out me like that? I wonder angrily. To my enemy, of all people? I get they wanted to respect my pronouns, but jeez!

I set my fork down, and with all the confidence I can muster, I proudly declare: “I recently figured out that I’m gender non-conforming, and I like both she and they pronouns. For the longest time I thought I was just a feminist tomboy, and I still am those things, but it kinda goes deeper than that.”

I can feel myself tensing, expecting a flood of questions to come my way. Instead, Spooky simply asks, “So, do I just… alternate between the two sets of pronouns when I talk about you?”

I gape, but quickly pull myself together and try to act cool. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Spooky nods, and goes back to her food.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I am completely taken off guard by this response. I hadn’t felt this shocked by Spooky since she’d nearly cut my foot off with an axe. Since Spooky had been born in an earlier time period, I’d expected her knowledge of queer people to be not very good, let’s just say. But this was the best reaction I’d gotten to my gender identity. Even my mom had been a little confused.

I was just about to ask Spooky about it when she got to the bottom of her juicebox and began making that funny noise that straws make when there’s not much liquid left, like a tiny bathtub drain. I’m nearly at the bottom of my drink myself, so I grab it and slurp back at her. It’s not as good sounding since I don’t have a straw, but I make it work. This act of pettiness makes me feel normal again.

Spooky watches as Zoe runs around the house, tossing things into her backpack. As soon as they had finished with their breakfast, she’d set to it, shoving seemingly random things into the bag.

The feeling of being alive, spirit tied to a warm fleshy meat sack, was still something Spooky had to get used to. Every breath felt alien. Why, she swore she could also feel her heart beating, and her blood snaking through her veins. Just standing here and doing absolutely nothing felt like the weirdest thing ever.

Spooky was yanked out of her musings when a purple backpack flew at her face. She grabbed it out of the air before it can hit her still tender nose. At least my reflexes are still up to snuff, she muses.

“You need to pack, too,” Zoe explains, shoving an entire box of juiceboxes into their bag. “You should know as well as anybody that the Mansion can be dangerous, and you have to be prepared.”

Spooky could feel herself scowling. Frankly, she didn’t want any part of Zoe and her horror-destroying ways, but she also didn’t want to be sent to Hell, no matter how not-fire-and-brimstone B.O.B. said it was. First thing on the agenda: get the trusty knife that B.O.B. Was generous enough to spawn her in with.

Zoe, apparently able to read Spooky’s mind, blocks her way. They scowl at her, putting their hands on their hips. “Spooky,” she starts with a warning, chastising tone.

“What, you expect me to go there without a weapon? You said it yourself, it’s dangerous.”

Zoe grabs the knife from the wardrobe. Spooky tries to grab it from her, but they dodge, sliding the weapon into their own backpack. “I don’t understand why I have to explain this to you, but you don’t exactly have a saintly reputation with anyone living today that knows you. Everyone’s already going to freak out when they see you; how do you think they’ll react if you waltzed into the Mansion with a giant freaking knife?”

Spooky can’t help herself. She knows that the technically older girl is right, but do they have to ruin her dreams like this? Spooky had never gotten to play with a knife like the one she’d given herself in the Mansion’s games in real life before. The one she’d managed to summon while attempting to kill Zoe at the end of her first adventure had merely been an illusion.

“Don’t worry,” Zoe says, and oh! At first glance, that was real concern in their voice, but Spooky knew better. She knew they were trying to get under her skin. Skin that she actually has because she’s alive again, that was going to take some getting used to. “Dealing with the inhabitants of the Mansion in non-violent ways will be tough, especially for you, since you’ve got a bad reputation with them. But you see, that’ll make it all worth it in the end. I will teach you the ways of the pacifist. And review some good-personing skills as well.”

Spooky sighs. “I can’t wait,” she drawls.

Chapter Text

"So, uh, how're we gonna do this?" Spooky tries to disguise the stammering in her question as her usual awkwardness, but judging by the way she's fidgeting around, it's much more than that. "We're not going to just uh, walk right into the Mansion, are we?"

You might think I'm mean for what I'm about to do, but Spooky has put me, and many others, through the ringer. So, I feel more than a little justified for being a little petty. Okay, a lot petty.

"Aw, what's the matter, Spook? It's your mansion."

Spooky scowls. "Not anymore. You made sure of that."

"Do I detect a little resentment there?" I fill my tone with lots of overdramatic flare as I ask this question.

"A little, yeah," Spooky admits.

"To answer your question, we are going to walk into the Mansion,—"

"Seriously?"

"Let me finish," I chastise moodily, raising a hand. "We'll walk into the Mansion in a very specific way."

"…Elaborate."

"Ooh, big words for such a little girl." This earns me another scowl. I bask in the beauty of my extremely reluctant ally's annoyance before continuing. "I'm going to go in on my own, and explain the situation. Then, you can come in, and we can get started. Sound good?"

Spooky looks incredibly skeptical, to say the least. "You really think you can just tell the specimens and monsters that, uh, the person who stuck them in there is Here and please don't kill her, they'll listen?"

"Well, it would probably help if you stopped calling them 'specimens and monsters'…"

Spooky puts her hands on her hips, and as much as I hate to admit it, her blank stare with those dark eyes of hers is more than a little intimidating. Why didn't she just do that when she tried to scare people? We might've been able to avoid this whole mess if she did.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, look. As much as I don't like you, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual,—"

"Oh, it's definitely mutual—"

"—I don't want your blood on my hands. Even though it technically won't be me killing you the second time. Dear god, that is trippy to think about. Anyway, you know what my track record is when it comes to doing the impossible, especially in the Mansion. Pretty good, right?"

Spooky doesn't reply. She doesn't even nod. What little guilt I felt about being petty went completely out the window when I saw Spooky being even more so. And I fired back, hard.

"Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Right? Righ—"

"Okay, okay, you can stop!" Spooky shouts over me, covering her ears. "Yes, it is pretty good. Jeez!"

"That's right! So, if anyone can get you in and out safely, it's me, right?"

Spooky seems to want to play silent treatment again, but when I open my mouth to let out a second right, [right doesn't even sound like a word anymore] she immediately replies before I can. "Yeah. Yeah, it's you." She sounds like an exasperated parent, making me burst out laughing. She huffs, putting her hands on her hips. "Remind me, which of us is the twelve-year-old here?"

"Neither of us, technically." I feel the need to explain. "See, you died like a long time ago and came back, so even though your body and development is twelve, chronologically you're a lot older. And as for me, I just turned seventeen today."

Much to my surprise, the technically younger girl looks surprised at this information. "Wait, really? Seventeen? I thought you were a lot younger than that."

Some people, actually maybe plenty of people my age would've gotten offended by such a statement, especially if it came from someone like Spooky. But all I did was blink. "Huh. So, like, my body didn't give it away?"

Spooky shrugs. "Early bloomer."

Then, it's my turn to shrug. "Fair enough." Then I scoop her up, backpack and all, and begin carrying her outside. Spooky, not expecting to be scooped up, backpack and all, begins to squirm in my grasp.

"Whoa! Ah! What the?"

"Chill, you're gonna make me drop you," I grumble.

"How are you this strong?"

I couldn't shrug since I was carrying a blue-haired psycho tween, so I did my best to put a lot of shrug energy into my voice. "I started working out after I left the Mansion the second time. I felt like it'd be a good idea to get into shape."

I pluck my helmet out of the basket of my trike, so I can plop my load into it. Spooky grunts as she attempts to get comfortable in the tight, metal space. "Ugh… Is this really necessary?"

"I mean, I sure as hell can't fit into the basket. Let your backpack hang over the side," I advise, deciding to take a little pity on the brat. She does so, wedging the back of the basket between the pack and her back. "Ow, it hurts my back," she complains. But she does seem a little less cramped. Then, she realizes just what she's sitting in. Whoa, a giant tricycle? I didn't know they made those… wait, can you, uh, not ride a bike?"

"Nope, I reply without shame. Then I'm hopping up on the seat of my trike, buckling up my helmet with a satisfying click. With any luck, nobody will stop me due to my passenger's lack of protection. "All aboard!" I cry out, like a train conductor. And with a spin of the petals, we're off.

Spooky felt like a prisoner on their way to be executed. In a way, she was. No longer was she free from the shackles of mortality, no more did she have complete and total control over the Jump Scare mansion. Actually, that last one hadn't been true for quite a long time. But now that she was no longer a ghost, and was just as susceptible to death and injury as any other living person, it was really beginning to sink in. She couldn't just laugh and fly through the ceiling, away from danger. She was just as vulnerable, just as weak as the many souls who'd traveled this road before her.

She may as well be yet another hapless visitor to the Mansion, no different from all the others. Well, except that she didn't get the luxury of not knowing what was to come. No, Spooky knew. She knew she was walking right into a death trap of her own creation, a labyrinth inhabited by entities she had trapped there. And they hated her. No doubt the moment they realized she had blood to spill, they would thirst for it. She knew she would, in their position.

And the only thing spooky could rely on, her only hope of survival rested squarely on the shoulders of a teenage girl. A girl who also hated her. And rightly so, a small voice piped up in the corner of her mind. Spooky told the voice to shut up.

If I knew this was gonna happen, Spooky thought to herself, would I have still done it? Would I have done everything the same? She wanted to say she wouldn't have, that this whole mess would have been avoided, but she knew better. She knew herself. Spooky knew her past self would just think it was a cool scary story, and dive headfirst into the plot.

Chapter Text

Birthday parties should not be something to dread. They were never to me before this one. Before now, birthdays just consisted of cake, presents, and fun. And I thought this one would be no exception, save for the supernatural elements, but that just added to the appeal.

That is, of course, until a certain blue-haired maniac revived herself into the picture. Said maniac was completely silent as she rode in the basket of my trike. It was something I was incredibly grateful for, but at the same time, it gave me chills. What is Spooky thinking about? What is she planning?

"Okay, what's up with you?" I try to keep my voice calm as I finally address the girl's silence, and am none too successful. It's the thought that counts, I guess.

"What do you mean?" Spooky asks. Her tone is more high-pitched than usual, with an undertone that I just don't like.

"It's not like you to be this quiet."

"It's also not like me to be alive."

"… Whoa." If Spooky thought she could give me pause by bringing up her dark past out of nowhere, then… she's absolutely right. I squeezed the handlebars tighter, my fingers squishing uncomfortably due to the sheen of sweat I was leaving on the rubber grips.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

I could see what Spooky was doing. She clearly just wanted to make small talk to get rid of the oppressive silence. That, or she was trying to come up with a new plan of world domination based on my preferred birthday gift. Either way, I decided to play along, since the tension was (also?) driving me nuts.

"I think I'd like to have a laptop. There are some games and programs that only run on Windows that I wanna have access to."

Spooky is quiet for a moment, pondering this. Not gonna lie, it made me a little nervous. Eventually, she said, "I never really had a computer when I was alive. Well, uh, alive before. My parents had one, but it was big and loud, and they didn't let me go on it that much."

"That must've been quite a long while ago," I say before I can stop myself because that had just really sunk in for me. It was hard to genuinely acknowledge that the girl riding with me right now was actually much older than me, had been born way before me.

"It was," Spooky says. "Actually, uh, what year is it now?"

"Two thousand twenty."

"Whoa." I barely heard Spooky's reaction over the wind in my ears. "It really has been a while."

We arrive at the hill the mansion is on, and I stand on the petals to give my pushes more force to better propel us up the steep incline. "Remember what I told you," I reminded my passenger. "Stay on the trike until I come get you."

"SURPRISE!"

I jump so hard that I practically fly right out of my body. Almost every inhabitant is there when I enter the mansion, leaping out to greet me. Several cardboard cutouts pop up as well, having been decorated with streamers, balloons, confetti, and home-made banners. "Whoa! Holy crap, you guys! Wow! This is… you really outdid yourself here."

"Happy birthday!" My supernatural friends all exclaim, at least the ones able to talk do. Their smiles are creepy, but genuine.

"If you think this is good, you will not believe the main party room we sat up," Ben the puppet merchant informs me.

"I'm sure it's awesome, but actually, there's something I should—"

"We can finally start eating the cake," Ringu says with a sigh of relief. "It took everything I had to get Ron to leave it alone."

"Urgh… beef," said food demon mutters. He was standing slightly away from all the others, twitching weirdly. I got the impression that, if he had eyes, they'd be rolling back in his head. I quickly look away from him.

"I can't wait! But, guys, there really is—"

I'm interrupted a third time by Goopboy. He lets out an excited burble, holding a small wrapped present. The wrapping paper is covered in slime, but whatever's inside the box is probably safe. I hope.

"One moment," Cat interrupts. Maybe she noticed that I had something I needed to tell everyone. She was always observant. "It is traditional in most birthday celebrations to blow out the candles on the birthday cake before opening gifts."

And my hopes are dashed. I expected better from you, Cat.

"That's right," Ringu replied. "But we should probably wait for Taker to get here before we start. Where is he, anyway?"

Oh my god! I can't believe I didn't notice it until now, but the ghost teen was right. Taker was not among the entities present at my party so far. How did I not notice until now? The clay man was one of my best friends. I really should have noticed that he wasn't here.

Esmie, the little demon girl I met in the hospital area of the mansion, weaves her way between legs, making her way to the front of the group. She'd traded in her gown for a slightly oversized blue t-shirt with a slice of pizza on the front, and a rainbow glitter party hat perched between her horns. "I-I remember," she stutters, "Taker said something about getting one last surprise ready. He went deep down into the mansion… a-and never came back."

"That's not good," a random ex-GL Labs Worker said, stating the obvious. "There's still a lot of stuff in the mansion we don't quite know about. For all we know, this place is endless."

"Do you think he's in trouble?" I ask, starting to get worried.

The weird thing is, no one answered my question. They all went completely silent and still, as if time had frozen. And knowing the odd crap that goes on in this place on a daily basis, maybe it had. "Guys? Do you think he's okay?"

Still, no answer. It was then that I realized everyone with visible eyes wasn't looking at me. They were all staring unblinkingly at a spot behind me. And then, their eyes began to narrow. "Guys? What's—"

Goopboy slowly raises his hand, claws outstretched, the gift falling to the ground with a clatter. Deer Lord opens his robe, revealing several silently screaming faces. Esmie lets out a small gasp and hides behind the alien, whose chest-mouth is open wide. The spiderpeed's pincers begin click-click-clicking as it lets out a deep, gurgling growl. Cat's fur stands on end, and the walls begin to turn fleshy.

I suddenly got a really, really bad feeling. Hoping I'm wrong, I slowly turn around.

"O-Oh… uh… hi."

Yup, you guessed it. There, clenching fistfuls of her dress, eyes darting to and fro like an anxious rabbit, is none other than the ex-leader of the Mansion herself: Spooky.