Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Glen sat in the middle of their room, a curious mind had recently gotten into the art of voodoo. Caught and strung along by its ancient rituals and the power it held over the supernatural.

Hours wasted in their room, door locked and smoke in the air. Candles burned quickly but the child's progress practicing spells and incantations was slow, no further to unlocking the secrets of this ancient craft.

One evening, as the sun disappeared, Glen stood in the middle of their room, surrounded by candles and covered in strange markings of the Gods. Chanting low, their words are interwoven with the gentle flickering of the flames.

To their disappointment, nothing happened. No gusts of wind, demon spawning, no otherworldly lights. They sighed, defeated. Third night trying and they were ready to give up completely.

Days turned to weeks and they forgot about their failures. One afternoon, they were snooping in their mom's closet, and they stumbled across a forgotten stack of papers. As they leafed through the yellowed pages, they found his mom on the front page with someone else, a notorious serial killer-the same man they only saw in scattered hidden pictures, never in words from their mom.

That's when the idea struck them. Spirits, ghosts, souls, maybe some of them were left behind, just hanging around. They didn't have the bodies but the Gods don't need those, just the leftover ghosts. Maybe if he offered them up, the Gods would finally reply.

Then they thought more about it, they would need something his dad physically had, something his soul would be attached to. They looked around the closet, maybe if his mom kept the pictures, she must've kept something else as well.

They looked closer into the picture, seeing the trench coat he wore covered in unusual stains and dirty. In another picture, they saw his mom bundled up in it, must've been during the winter.

Looking around frantically in the closet and sorting through the clothes and boxes, they finally found it. They grimaced a little, it looks like it never met a washer.

They took it anyways and hurried up the stairs. They gathered the candles and symbols like usual, this time they put the jacket on and sat in the middle.

Fear danced in their eyes as they realized the horror that awaited them. They closed their eyes, chanting the familiar spell. This time, they saw someone, a woman in her early thirties. A pale, translucent glow, her face distorted with a mix of pain and fear, she bore the marks of her violent end.

Her mouth trapped forever in a silent scream yet she spoke with accusation.

"You... you're his son," she hissed, a chilling echo in the air. "You can't escape what he's done."

Glen shivered as they felt one of their protection symbols burn into their flesh like it was trying to fight off the danger. Another one lit up though, the one that allowed them to communicate with the dead in the first place, it paralyzed them.

"I know what my father did," Glen said. "But I am not him. I won't let his actions define me."

The ghostly figure wavered for a moment, her eyes flickering with a mixture of anger and sadness.

"And I don't want anything to do with you, I want power from the Gods."

Slowly, the ghost hissed and disappeared, vanishing into thin air. The room returned back to its normal stillness.

Shaking, they pulled up their shirt to look at their hip, which burned like they had been sliced open. They swallowed as they noticed the mark of Damballa almost scratched into their skin.

Glen felt dread sit like a rock in their stomach. Damballa was a strong God who didn't like to be bothered often, they felt themselves sweat as they wondered what God had in store for them.

Chapter Text

Tiffany felt a chill in the air as she made her way through the house. Despite the maid's throughout cleaning, she felt the need to check every corner. Echoes greeted her as her heels clicked on the floor. Faintly, she caught a whiff of Glen's peculiar candles from their room, along with the scent of other unknown substances that her unusual child seemed to burn.

She doesn't know what's gotten into them lately, a new phase she supposed. She remembered fondly Chucky had been into voodoo and such, maybe it was just things aligning. Nowadays, she wondered which child caught the sickness for murder and violence, Glenda seemed more likely, she just couldn't picture Glen.

Chucky would be proud of Glenda, maybe a little disappointed in Glen; Though the shared interest in voodoo might help them bond.

She went down the stairs of her larger-than-life house, ever since Chucky had been arrested, she lied pretty well through the rest of it and winded up on Witness Protection, taking on the name Jennifer Tilly. Build herself a new life as an actor and a mother.

But fortunately, she wasn't the only thing that change, so did the world. People were much more accepting of gay people now. Initially, she worried about the dangers Glen might face with their self-discovery, but Glen's excitement over newfound acceptance and discoveries reassured her that things had changed since the 80s.

Things were surely different than in the 80s...

She moved around the parlor, doing nothing in particular, she caught a whiff of something, like cigarettes. She huffed around and rolled her eyes, knowing Glenda, her troublemaker, was behind it.

The kids weren't in the house currently, but the smell was strong, she got a little further annoyed she must have forgotten to put it out. Tiffany searched for any signs of damage on her carpet, checking the windows for any extinguished embers that might harm her beloved roses. However, her thorough search revealed nothing.

Walking out of the room, she abruptly stopped in her tracks. There were muddy boot prints on the floor, and she knew Glenda wasn't responsible for that. Instantly, her protective instincts kicked in, and she walked back into the parlor, retrieving a hidden gun from a side table.

Slipping off her heels, she followed the footprints that led to the wide-open front door. Cursing her oversight, she scanned the area for any signs of where the intruder might have gone. Noticing the footprints leading down another hallway, she composed herself and walked more confidently, knowing that the intruder was clearly outmatched.

As she walked down the hallway, she turned into the kitchen. Noticing nothing was out of place, she looked at where the stranger could've gone.

"Heya Doll," a familiar New Jersey accent came from behind her.

She jumped and turned around, surprised to see Chucky, leaning on a wall, behind her.

"Chucky...I thought you were in jail still." She smiled nervously.

She looked him up and down, seeing that he wasn't wearing normal prison attire as she would expect for someone who broke out of jail, just normal civilian clothes. A white T-shirt and some black jeans.

"I was," he laughed, "They let me out early on good behavior. You would have known that had you visited."

"Oh, they did? Well, I've been in witness protection, Chucky. It would have been strange for Jennifer to suddenly show up," she explained, her smile tight.

She smiled, but she was panicking. She hadn't visited because soon after Chucky was arrested, she found out she was pregnant with the twins. She wasn't sure how Chucky would react, though she was positive he was pissed off as ever, and had taken the blame for her and Eddie.

"Oh, they did? Was wonderin' who the fuck Jennifer was, ugly name by the way." He winked at her as he slid out of the room, back to the parlor.

Tiffany nodded and quickly followed after Chucky, heart nearly jumping out but for entirely different reasons than love. She was hoping he wasn't going up the stairs.

To her relief, he didn't. He just stopped and waited for her to catch up.

"So where's the shower in this place? Hadn't had a nice one in a couple of years."

"Oh, um, it's upstairs. I'll show you," Tiffany hurriedly replied, rushing up the stairs. But before she could reach the top, Chucky grabbed her from behind.

"Missed ya, Doll," he whispered into her neck before pushing her aside and continuing on his own.

Tiffany cursed under her breath, realizing once again how dominant Chucky could be, always taking charge. Sometimes it was romantic, but other times it could be frustrating, like now as she watched him head down the hallway towards the kids' rooms. She followed after him, swiftly reaching Glen's door, and held it firmly shut. Chucky's surprised glare met her determined gaze.

"What the fuck? Why can't I go in?"

"Because you were looking for the bathroom, Silly." She gave him a tight lipped smile, Chucky was often like a bored rat, just liked to explore. Like her Glenda.

"Right." He glanced at the next door she knew was Glen's.

She also looked at the door, predicting the next move.

Chucky swiftly pushed her away and forcefully swung open the door, revealing Glen's room. His eyes scanned the surroundings with curiosity.

"What the fuck is this?" he exclaimed.

Tiffany peered into the room, leaning against the doorframe. "Um, well, this is my meditation room."

She watched as Chucky strolled over to the dresser, where Glen kept their candles and other personal belongings. Chucky dipped his fingers into what Tiffany assumed was powdered black coal, causing some of it to fall onto the dresser—a sight that made Tiffany wince, knowing how important those items were to Glen.

"What is this shit?" He asked as he inspected it, then wiped his hands on his shirt.

"Meditation stuff?" She said quickly and went over towards the dresser and scooped it back in the bowl, hoping Glen wouldn't notice.

Behind her, Chucky rolled his eyes, knowing she had been lying. He quickly pushed her up against the dresser, hand to her throat in blind fury.

"Stop lying to me." He warned.

Tiffany bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before responding. "Chucky, there's something I need to tell you. Please, just listen."

Chucky looked at her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. "What is it, Tiffany? Spit it out."

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Chucky, we have children. Twins, to be exact. Glenda and Glen. They're... they're ours."

Chucky's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? I have kids? You're telling me I'm a father?"

Tiffany nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, Chucky. But I didn't tell you because... I didn't know how you would react. I thought it would be better for them to grow up away from this life, away from the influence of... everything."

Chucky's expression softened, a mix of surprise and curiosity, he let go of her. "Well, well... I guess I've been missing out on more than I thought."

Tiffany took a step forward, cautiously hopeful. "Chucky, I've tried my best to give them a good life, a safe life. They don't know about your... past. And Glenda, she has some similar interests to you, but she's a good kid, I promise."

Chucky scratched his chin, lost in thought for a moment. "So, where are they now? Can I meet 'em?"

Tiffany smiled, a glimmer of relief washing over her. "They're not here at the moment, but they'll be back soon. Let me introduce you properly, Chucky. Let's start anew, as a family."

Chucky nodded, a flicker of warmth in his eyes. "Alright, Tiff. Let's see what kind of kids we've got. But don't expect me to go soft on 'em. They're gonna know who their old man is."

Tiffany's heart swelled with a mix of emotions—relief, hope, and a tinge of worry. She knew Chucky's nature, his darkness, and she feared the potential impact it could have on their children. But she also believed in the power of love and redemption. Perhaps, with Chucky back in their lives, they could find a way to embrace their unique family dynamics and support their children on their own paths.

As they waited for Glenda and Glen to return, Tiffany couldn't help but hope that this newfound reunion would bring healing and understanding to their unconventional family, and that together they could navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

Swallowed by the darkness in his living room, the wight of Andy Barclay's past choked him. His eyes flickered over the old television, watching as Jennifer Tilly walked on this brightly lit stage to claim her award.

The crowd exploded with cheers and applause, but there was no joy in Andy's heart. Instead, a seething anger as he gripped his knife tighter in his fist.

Jennifer Tilly- a fake identity he knew she possessed; Tiffany Valentine. The memories of that night still haunted him, the night when Chucky murdered his parents in cold blood while Tiffany did nothing to stop him.

The rage burned hot within Andy's chest. How could she parade around, taking in the spotlight, while he was left in the pain of loss? For years he had spent watching her and tracking information, it was all coming together now.

The screen flickered, focusing on Tilly's bright smile as she began her speech. Her voice echoed through the room, a sickening reminder of the deception she had woven. Andy's jaw clenched as he fought against the waves of anger threatening to overwhelm him.

His knuckles turned white on his grip on the knife. A physical representation of his desire for justice, a means to bring an end to the terror that had consumed his life.

He had been calculated and patient. Even when the sound of her voice grated his ears, he knew the time had come to confront the one who had destroyed his family.

As her speech ended, the crowd screamed and cheered once more, showering her with approval. As she walked off the stage, the camera pans to her hugging and joining her kids.

He eyed them like a cat zoning in on a rat, he saw memories of Chucky murdering his parents. He knew he couldn't take Chucky alone but there was someone else who could take his place.

The crowd faded into the background, their cheers becoming distant whispers. Andy's heart pounded in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. He knew what he wanted to do.

Chapter Text

The pair of red head twins set themselves at the top of the grand stair case, peering down like owls as their mother sat and spoke with an unusual man. The stranger's striking looks with long, wavy hair and a sly grin like a cat plotting it's next move.

Glenda, instinctively, didn't like the man. She impulsively tugged at her twin's jacket sleeve, an item they stole from their mom's closet, forcing Glen to join her in a mission down the hallway. Despite Glen's reluctance, Glen reminded her of their mother's strict instructions to remain in their rooms.

"Glenda, what do you expect me to do? Mom specifically told us to stay put," Glen protested, their voice thick with worry, as they were dragged along.

"Keep your voice down and quit complaining," Glenda hissed, her eyes narrowing with intensity as she swiftly maneuvered them to the floor. They sat behind a nearby wall, concealed from view, positioned just beside the elegant stair railings. "Use your stupid magic and check this guy out. I don't want any more of mom's "friends" in the house again."

Glen sighed as their brown eyes met their match, who impatiently waited for their command to be answered. They weren't sure what Glenda's problem was when their mother brought someone over. Sure, they didn't like them either but you'd thought these men just stumbled out of hell with the way Glenda looked at them. As far as Glen were concerned, any new attachments were just in their way but they made mom happy so they didn't protest.

Glen peered past the wall as they looked down where his mother and the stranger was, pieces of small conversation could be heard but not the full thing. He didn't look to bad, one of the better ones she had. They put a hand to their chest, trying to range the other's emotions and energies. Some new power they had unlocked with their witchcraft.

"Well, what is he like?" Glenda demanded.

"Hold on, I haven't got anything yet."

They looked further and felt a deep energy, the same one they felt with their mom, a personal connection that weighed heavy on their soul. Confusion lined their eyes, weird. The man was more than a stranger though how come they have never met him before?

Besides the connection, they felt a lighter energy, something more sinister then they felt anger, pain, and loneliness.

They had a hunch but without a ritual, it was hard to say, but the connection they first felt was unexplainable.

"I think he's our dad, like biological."

Glenda's eyes turn almost turned black with anger, Glen could nearly see the horns and snake tongue coming out of her head. They turned back to look at the man, the sinister energy flowing through their soul. If Glenda had a plan, it was bound to go sour.

Whatever you're thinking, don't." They whispered, "He's stronger than he looks."

Their sister glared at them, not liking their plan being shot down so soon. "Then how do we get rid of him?"

"Not sure yet, let me do a ritual and see who he is." Glen thought back to the newspapers they had found in their mom's closet. There had to be more information there.

"Mom's room," They said suddenly, "She had some papers in there about this guy plus his jacket. Maybe it's the same person."

The female redhead's hard look softened, "Let's get to mom's room then."

They shuffled back a few feet and then stood up, their mom's room being past the stairs, they were bound to be seen. Glen carefully peered down at the man, waiting for a distraction that would give them permission to bolt. With synchronized steps, the twins rose from their hiding spot and made a silent dash towards their mother's room, ensuring to lock the door securely behind them.

Glenda hurried to the closet, roughly throwing expensive clothes, shoes, and bags behind her while Glen listened for any following footsteps. Finally, after quickly digging, she found some boxes similar to what Glen had found.

She flipped open the lid and dumped everything on the bed, papers flying like confetti.

"Be careful," Glen warned.

"I am." Glenda groaned.

She searched through the papers quickly, and Glen joined her, hoping there was something they felt a connection to. Their search seemed useless however until Glenda grabbed a paper and held it up like it was made of gold.

"Look this says something about the Lakeshore Strangler and it has the guy's mugshot!"

"The infamous serial killer known as Chucky has been apprehended. Sustaining gunshot wounds during the encounter with law enforcement, he has been swiftly transported to the hospital, where he is scheduled to undergo further interrogation. Authorities are actively seeking his accomplice, the getaway driver, as well as his wife, who remain at large."

Glenda's amazement filled the room, her voice brimming with awe. "Well, he just became a whole lot cooler. Not like those pathetic losers she usually brings around."

Her twin's concern, however, lingered like a shadow. "But what if he poses a threat to us?"

"He didn't kill mom." Glenda shrugged.

We shouldn't underestimate him," Glen warned again, "He's stronger than he looks."

Glenda rolled her eyes, "Don't be such a chicken, Glen. You have powers and shit. Besides, it's not like we're planning to have a family reunion. We just need to figure out what he's up to and protect Mom."

Glen couldn't deny Glenda's logic, but they couldn't help but feel a mixture of dread and curiosity.

"Fine," Glen caved in, "But promise me we'll be careful and think things through. We can't afford to let our emotions cloud our judgment."

Glenda flashed a mischievous grin, her eyes gleaming with determination. "Deal. Now let's see what else we can find."

The twins shifted through the scattered papers, searching for any clues that might tell them Chucky's intentions. As they dug deeper, they found articles detailing Chucky's killing sprees, each more chilling than the last. They also stumbled upon notes and drawings, evidence of their mother's fascination with the darkness that held their father.

Deep inside the box, Glenda found an old diary, it's pages worn and torn.

"Look! It's Mom's diary!" The excitement in her voice.

"Absolutely not, you can't just read through her diary."

"Why not? It's hidden in this old ass box. I don't think she'll give a fuck if we look through her diary, she doesn't even use it anymore."

Without a word, Glen snatched the diary away from her hands and tossed it to the other side of the bed. It hit the wall with a heavy thump.

Soon after, a pair of twins heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"Good job," Glenda deadpanned.

"Shut up, you're just mad I won't let you read it. Now put the box back before they come in."

Quickly their sister did as told and picked up a pair of shoes, followed by Glen who quietly unlocked the door and snatched up a shirt, sitting with their sister on the bed, posing innocently as possible.

Their heads snapped up as their mother and Chucky entered the room, their gazes falling upon the peculiar sight of the children arranged in such an unusual manner.

"Glen, Glenda," their mother began, her voice laced with a mix of concern and curiosity. "What on earth are you doing?"

Glen stayed quiet as Glenda answered for them, studying the new pair. Their mother was defensive it seemed as if she was purposely putting space between them and Chucky, as even she didn't know his intentions.

Chucky just leaned on the door frame, blocking the only exit. Glen could feel their sister simmering with rage, one question on her mind. Who does he think is? How dare he look comfortable in a house that wasn't his? He doesn't belong here.

Slowly, Glen shifted closer to their sister. Being discreet as possible as they pulled out their amulet. Mixtures of markings and dried blood on it. Leaving it up to Damballa to figure out the others intentions, so far it's worked on several of their mom's sketchy boyfriends.

Clutching it in their hand, they relaxed their shoulders. Waiting for a sign from Damballa, they quickly got an answer. Chucky was at ease, but confused. That made sense, however. Gets out of wherever after some decades and finds out you have kids? Glen supposed they'd be pretty confused too.

"Well, children this is Chucky." Their mother introduced carefully. "Chucky, this is Glen and Glenda."

A wicked grin adorned Chucky's features as he spoke, his words tinged with sinister amusement. "Ah, so you've got both a boy and a girl. Can't wait to get to know you both better."

A grimace covered Glen's face while Glenda had her teeth bared in anger like a rabid dog. However, both children were hushed as their mother shot them a look.

"Right, why do we go downstairs and I'll make some lunch? You and Chucky can get to know each other more?"

The children shot each other a look, their mother hadn't cooked in a while. Mostly the maid or take-out suited them, very rarely except on holidays or birthdays did they see their mother pick up a pan, too busy with her acting career.

"Yeah, that sounds great," Glen responded, their voice tinged with nervousness.

The children didn't stand up until their mother took Chucky to the kitchen, leaving the children alone.

Glenda was the first to stand, followed by Glen. Yet, as they got to their feet, a sudden wave of dizziness swept over Glen, causing them to stumble backward and rely on the bed for support.

"Are you alright?" Glenda asked, her concern evident in her eyes.

Glen remained silent, their flushed skin betraying their discomfort. They slowly crawled back onto the bed, their body splayed out and the once-coveted pink fuzzy blanket carelessly cast aside.

"Glen?"

"I'm fine," Glen managed to force out, their words strained. "Just go check on what Mom's cooking."

Reluctantly, Glenda left the room, the sound of the door closing echoing in the silence. Glen wiped their face, only to find it dry and hot. Exhaustion overcame them, and they closed their eyes, succumbing to sleep almost immediately.

When they awoke, their vision remained slightly blurred. They reached out, their hand coming into contact with the cold, hard tile of the floor. As their senses slowly sharpened, they became aware of the faint sound of wheels and distant conversations filling the space around them.

As Glen stood up and surveyed their surroundings, they realized they were in a room with several beds lined up closely together. The beds appeared neatly made, and scattered among them were a few stuffed animals, the only hint that someone lived this space.

"Am I... dead?" they whispered, their voice barely audible, as they made their way towards the door. They didn't really expect an answer, the question was more of a rhetorical musing.

Turning the doorknob, Glen opened the door and stepped into a short hallway. Nurses in unusual attire—dresses and caps instead of the typical medical scrubs—moved purposefully up and down the corridor. It was a confusing sight, and Glen had to fight the urge to take a step back in disbelief.

The nurses seemed oblivious to Glen's presence, continuing with their tasks without so much as glancing in their direction. Unfazed, Glen ventured further into the hallway. At one end, a large swinging door caught their attention, while the other end led to what appeared to be a waiting room.

There was one woman sitting by herself, she seemed to be more solid than the other people. Carefully, Glen approached her.

The woman turned her head and greeted them with a warm smile. "Hello, I've been expecting you," she replied.

"Are you... God?" Glen's voice quivered with uncertainty.

A soft chuckle escaped the woman's lips. "No, dear. God is behind those doors," she gestured towards a set of imposing double doors, labeled with a sign that read "Aversive Treatment" in bold letters.

Glen swallowed hard, taking a seat across from the woman. They felt a mixture of curiosity and fear.

"Then... who are you?" they asked.

"My name is Doris, and you are currently in Summer Shore Hospital," she answered, her voice tinged with sadness.

"Why am I here?" Glen's voice trembled with confusion.

"These are my memories," Doris said, her tone thick with melancholy. "You are in danger, but I can see that you're having trouble trusting a friend of mine."

"So... you're a ghost?" Glen ventured, their mind struggling to comprehend what was happening.

Doris nodded with a serene smile. "Exactly."

"And who is this friend?" Glen asked, their curiosity piqued.

"Oh, he's beyond those doors. You'll recognize him when you see him," Doris replied cryptically. "But I suggest you hurry, or you may miss your chance."

Chapter Text

Glen slowly went through the large doors, looking for Doris's friend. As they walked, they found their new power interesting. They could see ghosts' memories, though they weren't sure if it was the ghosts allowing them to do it through possession or if they did this on accident. They'll have to look more into it when they're done.

Through the doors that ventured into a hallway, that strangely led to a more carpeted corner with a small bin organizer. Despite knowing that the toys should be kept on the carpet, they were strewn from one end of the hallway to the other.

There were three small children playing with some cars while two others played with some building blocks. But what struck out the most was the very obvious teenager playing with children who must be in kindergarten or first grade.

In his plaid shirt and jeans, Glen recognized the voice almost immediately though he didn't have his typical long hair. It was a very strange sight indeed, from their first meeting with Chucky, he didn't seem like the children type.

The next weird thing Glen noticed, was that there were no other teenagers. Why was their father the only one here? Was there an adult wing he should be in and he snuck out for some reason? Aversive Treatment didn't seem like a place you should sneak into, however.

Their questions still won't be answered as heavy boots thumped against the floor. Toys could be heard getting kicked and stepped on from around the corner.

"What did I tell you damn kids about throwing these toys around?" an elderly man with thinning white hair appeared, turning the corner. He wore a blueish-gray uniform with a prominent tag that read "Janitor."

"You can't blame them, we've been stuck in here for hours!" Chucky replied, "We've skipped breakfast for fucks sake!"

Glen took an unnecessary step back, they were positive they couldn't be hurt physically but Chucky's outburst was followed by a chill down their body as the Janitor looked at Glen, for a moment their eyes flickered with defeat, but then the anger flooded back, unmoved by the evilness coming from the teenager.

Suddenly, the old man grabbed one of the toy cars the children had been playing with and forcefully hurled it against the floor. The kids instinctively moved backward, avoiding the flying shards of plastic.

Chucky sprung to his feet, enraged. He swiftly gathered the children, huddling them behind him, and confronted the older man, his face mere inches away.

"What the fuck was that for?!" His voice echoed around the hallway. He grabbed a broken pencil that had been in the man's trash and held it up to his throat. "I swear to God you're going to pay for that."

The janitor faltered, not expecting to be threatened in such a manner. He backed up but still held some fury in his voice. "I'll... I'll make sure you get kicked out of here and arrested," he huffed before storming away with his belongings.

"Make my day, asshole!"

And just like that, Chucky followed after the man but the scene changed. This time, the hallway was darker, it was raining outside. Glen couldn't see where Chucky was but they could feel his energy. That sinister energy they had felt before. Glen walked down the hallway slowly, as of they were walking through the dark forest at night.

Each corner and shadow looking more suspicious than the last, they wrapped their arms around themselves, the dirt and sweat wafting even heavier than before. They encountered a series of closed rooms, except for one. The unmistakable scent of cleaning products wafted from within, and the janitor's cart stood in front of the room.

They nervously approached the room, Chucky's energy overpowering and strong as they made their way inside. They could hear his signature laugh from across the room. Glen turned to survey the source and recoiled in fear—blood flowed from a still-twitching body sprawled on a bed.

As expected from the articles they had read, Chucky had chosen to stab the man to death, probably why he was still twitching, he was probably still alive. A small pocket knife slipped gradually from Chucky's grasp, its blade glistening with blood—a clear indication that he, too, had been injured in the victim's desperate struggle to escape. Glen caught a glimpse of their father's face, matted hair and soaked clothes, drenched either in cleaning fluid or blood. They wondered if this was his first act of murder.

They could see their father's face but their curly hair was matted, and their clothes were drenched either in cleaner or blood. You could tell he was out of breath yet still stared at his victim, Glen briefly wondered if this was his first murder.

In the room, an overturned mop bucket near the lifeless body directed the flowing blood along the floor, halting near Glen's boots. They instinctively stepped back to avoid staining their shoes, contorting their face at the sight. Instead of a place where people should rest, the room resembled a slaughterhouse.

They looked back up, a new energy in the room. They looked around but nothing happened, confused, they felt in their pocket for their crystals. Hoping to glue the energy to one place and then float around them. They clutched the white and pink rock in their hand and as expected it got warm, a sign it had done as it should.

Glen looked down at it then focused their mind on the energy, thinking it was maybe another ghost. A hand flew to their side as the mark of Damballa started to burn.

For a brief moment, Glen glanced up and saw the older man's head turn to the side. They searched for their father but found him vanished. A wave of sickness washed over Glen, yet the man fixed a harsh glare upon them, rising slowly from the floor, blood gushing from his wounds. Their gazes locked—Glen frozen in shock, the man swaying side to side, his eyes vacant.

Then it happened.

The man lunged at Glen and they tried to get away but were too slow, the janitor grabbed them by their shoulders and dragged them to the floor. Glen screamed and the crystal fell to the floor, its small ringing ignored when he grabbed Glen's head and slammed it on the hardwood, losing vision after each thud. All while, the man screamed at them, their hot breath and snarling teeth and his nails digging into their skin with inhuman strength.

"You did this! You murdered me!"

Glen's eyes flew open, their surroundings a hazy blur. They realized they were in their mother's room, the dream or vision still vivid in their mind. Searching for their crystal, they slowly rose, only to discover fragments of it in their hand.

"Definitely a vision," they whispered to themselves.

They should have seen it coming, using their dad's murders as sacrifices for magic might have not been their best idea but they didn't think they'd be challenging the actual ghosts.

Hoping it hadn't been late, Glen uneasily got up. Their mother's plush carpeting had been too welcoming.

Slowly, they padded down the steps and into the kitchen. Seeing their family sitting at the table yet nothing in front of them, Chucky and Glenda sat next to each other, Glenda was teaching Chucky how to use a phone and other important apps and Glen wondered briefly how long he had been in jail. His mother was sitting down, slowly drinking some coffee, giving a comment or two as she watched the pair.

Briefly, they looked up at them entering the room. Glen gave a small nod and sat closely beside their mother, still reeling.

"Oh Glen," their mother started as she wrapped her arm around their shoulders, "Glenda said you weren't feeling well and lied down for a bit."

"Uh yeah," they responded, noticing Chucky's obvious one-side staring contest with them. "What'd you make for lunch?"

Glen humored it a bit and gave him a side eye, not exactly sure what he was looking at.

"I made meatballs and salad," their mother got the meatballs from the microwave and the salad from the fridge and set both on the table in front of her child.

Immediately, Glen reached for the meat but Chucky's snatched their hand and prevented the child from taking their arm back.

"Hey, asshole! Let them go!" Glenda jumped to their defense.

"Hold the fuck on, I'm just checking something." Chucky said as he flipped the edge of the sleeve inside out. There written on a faded tag, CLR written in sharpie.

"Knew it," Chucky confirmed and gave Glen their arm back.

Glen rubbed their wrist as they watched Glenda rear her arm back, ready to slam her fist in the back of his head. Quickly, however, their mother grabbed Glenda and pulled her away, letting her stand next to her sibling. Chucky as always unbothered and picked up a meatball, slowly eating it.

"Chucky, be nicer with the children," Tiffany warned.

"Why does it have my jacket?" He replied immediately, unbothered by the two angry women.

"Their name is Glen," She shot back, her voice slightly raised.

Glen sighed, still rubbing their wrist. From their experience with their mom and sister arguing, they assumed this would be the same with Chucky. They found it a little funny that Glenda and Chucky were nearly alike. Glenda's protectiveness reminded them of Chucky and the kids from the vision. Though they felt like Chucky's strange and standoffish behavior was because he grew up in the hospital and not with his peers.

"It's fine mom, I found it in your closet and decided to borrow it."

"Well, it suits you." She commented, shooting the other adult a look. "It's not like Chucky needs it anymore."

"Yeah, fine, he can keep it." Chucky rolled his eyes.

Glenda opened her mouth to come to their defense again but their mother quickly shushed her, the fire dying behind her eyes as quickly as it was ignited.

"Okay children, that's enough. Why don't you two go and play something in your rooms while your father and I have a talk?"

Glen shifted their gaze back and forth between everyone, shrugged, and grabbed another meatball before dragging their sister back to their room. They were sure whatever they were talking about they wanted no part in. They wanted to replace the crystal and figure out this ghost shit.

"If he keeps doing that shit, I'm going to lose my shit!" Glenda huffed and jumped on their bed, shoving aside pillows and animals.

"Give him some time, I don't think being gay was exactly walking on air when he was growing up. Plus he doesn't even know I'm gay." Glen replied as they grabbed some candles and black coal and then their spell book.

Carefully, they made a circle with the coal and sat in the middle, candles wrapped in cow skin and bird feathers places on either side of them. A sharp bone from a raccoon was placed in one hand, they carefully sliced the upper part of their arm and collected some of the blood in the candles. They placed the bone in their spell book, propped open in from of them. Finally, they lit the candles, an old lighter they had stolen from their mom. They sat crisscrossed, taking the broken crystal from their pocket, they placed the pieces unorganized in front of them with the memory of the janitor in the front of their mind, they began to ask for Damballa.

"What the hell are you doing?" Glenda asked, breaking the silence.

"I had a vision." They replied, not thinking it was important to tell the rest.

"Oh cool, you can have those? That's so fucking awesome! What was the vision about?"

Glen thought about it, remembering Chucky and the kids and the situation in the kitchen. "We should trust Chucky."

"That's it?" She asked disappointed.

"Glenda," Glen cleared their throat and gestured to the circle.

"Right, sorry."

Glen didn't reply as they chanted:

"Carefully, I make a circle with the coal, bound by spirits unknown.
In the center I sit, candles wrapped in skin, feathers as they're shown.
In my spell book, the bone finds a home,
I ignite the stolen flame, a spark of stolen fire.
Crisscrossed I sit, broken crystal unveiled, memories and desires.
I call upon Damballa's grace.
With these offerings and intentions set, I beseech you, Damballa, to heed my call."

Glen took a deep breath as they waited for the dark energy to fill their chest, after a few minutes of absolutely nothing, they opened their eyes defeated.
They dropped the book to the floor and stared at the flickering candles, Damballa appears to not give a fuck today.

"What happened?" Glenda asked as she carefully slid off the bed.

"Nothing," Glen sighed as they blew out the candles before standing up.

(Time skip because I'm lazy)

The twins sat in the back of the Uber, pink and white bags from shopping spilled around them. Bored and with very little things to do, Glenda suggested they go shopping, which had been fun for the most part but now it was late and Glen was assuming their mother was probably wondering where they were.

"Hey, I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up when we get to the house." Glenda mumbled before she laid her head on her arm against the window and fell asleep.

Glen nodded, even though they doubted they would be able to wake Glenda up when they arrived home. They were feeling a bit queasy from the car ride, partly due to Glenda's insistence on eating powdered pretzel bites instead of proper food. They tried to find a comfortable position in their seat, their head occasionally bumping lightly against the car door. The driver remained silent, providing little opportunity for conversation, and so Glen found themselves lost in their own thoughts.

Unable to resist the exhaustion any longer, Glen closed their eyes, intending to stay awake but succumbing to sleep instead.

n their dream, rain poured heavily, drenching everything around them, yet they couldn't feel a single drop. Seeking refuge, their gaze fell upon a mansion nestled among the trees. They approached the mansion's front gate, which creaked open ominously, setting an eerie tone. The rain momentarily ceased, replaced by an unsettling silence that sent shivers down their spine. Summoning their courage, they stepped onto the gravel path that led to the imposing mansion.

The house appeared deserted, its windows draped in tattered curtains, emanating an air of mystery and gloom. As Glen ascended the steps to the front door, an uneasy feeling settled upon them, adding to the weight of their already troubled mind. Pushing open the door, they revealed a dimly lit corridor that stretched into the abyss.

With their heart pounding, they ventured deeper into the mansion. The air grew colder, and a sense of impending doom loomed over them. A muffled scream pierced through the silence, causing Glen to freeze in their tracks. Their heart raced as they followed the sound, their footsteps growing quicker, fueled by a mix of terror and determination. The cries led them to a grand hall, where a chilling sight awaited.

In the flickering candlelight, their father stood, his eyes glinting with sadistic delight as he brandished a bloodstained knife. Before he lay their lifeless family, their bodies a testament to their agonizing deaths.

But what stopped Glen in their tracks were a little boy, standing at the end of the hallway, stuff animal clutched in his hand.

A voice escaped the female corpse, their mother, breaking the eerie silence. Glen strained to listen, their senses sharpened within the dream.

"What was that?" Glen asked, figuring this was another ghost.

"An-Andy..." She moaned.

"What?"

Glen got closer, watching the woman's mouth open and closed bit no sound coming from it.

"His name is Andy."

The boy-Andy- turned his head slowly, as if sensing her presence, and their eyes locked. Time stood still as terror consumed them, and their instincts screamed at them to flee.

Glen's eyes shot open like before, realizing they had another vision and not a nightmare. They turned to look at their sister, who was still sound asleep. Glen looked around the car, seeing that it was completely dark out.

They looked around the car, noticing that it was completely dark outside. A sense of disorientation filled their mind. Weren't they in an Uber? Shouldn't they have arrived home by now?

They reached over to shake Glenda awake in extreme panic.