Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bell above the shop door gave a weak jingle as Ben and Father Kent stepped inside. The place was dim but warm, smelling faintly of incense and old wood. Candles flickered on crowded shelves, casting long shadows across jars of herbs and weathered tarot decks.

Ben sighed, arms crossing.

“Seriously, Kent? This is the ‘help’ we’re putting our hopes on? A tourist trap with better lighting?”

Father Kent ignored him, gaze sweeping over the shop’s strange assortment. “I’ve heard great things about her,” he said softly. “Not the kind of things you hear about fakes.” He smiled at Ben, sheepish but insistent. “Just… give her a chance, okay?”

Ben groaned, muttered something about wasted time, but finally threw up his hands. “Fine. But I’m not buying into it.”

You appeared from behind a curtain, voice calm and rich with quiet confidence. “You must be the ones with the… problem.” You gestured them toward a small round table draped in dark velvet.

Ben slumped into his chair with all the grace of a man bracing for disappointment. You lit a candle, trying to focus, reaching out with your senses—yet, nothing clicked. Ben scoffed audibly.

“Yeah, thought so. Smoke and mirrors.”

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood. “I’m gonna step outside before I say something I’ll regret. Have fun, Kent.” The door slammed behind him, leaving the air charged and quiet.

Kent exhaled, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about Ben. He’s… complicated.” He looked down, fiddling nervously with his hands. “Don’t take it personally.”

You tilted your head, gaze sharp. “Does he know you’re not a real priest?”

Kent froze. His blood ran cold, every muscle locked. “What—what are you talking about? Of course I am.”

Your eyes softened, but your words were steady. “No. You work Halloween sales. This costume stuck with you because sometimes, late at night, you wonder if God even sees you anymore. Or hears you… after what you’ve been through.”

He stared at you, color draining from his face. You leaned forward, voice quiet but undeniable. “The secret you’ve carried since you were seventeen. Your father. The beatings. The night you stopped him to save your mother.” A pause, tender but firm. “You killed him.”

Kent’s breath caught. The room spun faintly. “Please don’t—don’t say that. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not broken from what he did to me.”

You reached across the table, voice warm, soothing. “Kent. You’re not broken. And you’re not alone. You did what you had to do. That stays between us. Always.”

Something flickered in his eyes—fear, but also recognition. He realized you were hinting at your own scars, though different in shape. Beaten, but not broken.

Kent swallowed hard, then let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the weight. “You, uh… you really don’t hold back, do you?”

You smirked. “Would you rather I lied?”

“No, I… guess not.” His eyes darted over you, then away, like he was caught. “I just… wasn’t expecting someone so…” He trailed off.

“Beautiful?” you teased, one brow raised.

He flushed, chuckling under his breath. “I was going to say ‘intimidating.’ But… yeah. That too.”

You leaned back in your chair, lips curving. “Careful, Father. You’re flirting with a psychic. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

“Good thing I’m not,” he shot back, surprising himself.

The air between you shifted—playful, flirtatious, but threaded with something deeper. Every now and then, you felt it: a pulse, a tug, like threads of magic leaking from him unconsciously. He didn’t seem aware, but you felt it—raw, buried, tethering itself to you.

The door banged open. Ben reappeared, looking impatient. “Kent, let’s go. We’ve wasted enough—”

“She’s gonna help us,” Kent interrupted firmly.

Ben blinked, then shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. See you at the mansion. Tonight.” He scribbled an address, tossed it onto the table, and left again.

You rose slowly, stepping close to Kent. You took his hands in yours, gentle but deliberate, slipping your card into his palm and curling his fingers over it. Your eyes locked on his.

“Give me a call,” you murmured, “if you’re interested in possibly finding out what it feels like.”

Kent blinked. “What… what feels like?”

Your smirk deepened as you turned toward the back of the shop. “What it feels like to have your hands on me.”

He stood frozen, heart pounding, watching you walk away.
Did I say that out loud?

“No, Kent,” you called back over your shoulder, lips
curving knowingly. “You didn’t say that out loud.”

His laugh was breathless, awed. “She’s incredible,” he whispered to himself as he finally turned to leave.

Alone, you faced the door he’d just walked through. Slowly, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling the unmistakable pull. The tether. Your anchor. Hidden magic, long buried, waiting to awaken in him. And it had found you.

Chapter Text

The door of the mansion creaked open before you even touched it. Father Kent stood framed in the threshold, expression uncertain, as though he’d been waiting.

You arched a brow. “I didn’t even knock.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I just… felt like I needed to open it.”

That familiar pull tightened in your chest. Your hand went there without thinking, pressing over your heart. His gaze followed the movement instantly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern softening his voice.

You shook yourself and dropped your hand. “Yes. Absolutely. Now are you going to let me in, or are we communing with spirits out here on the porch?”

Kent huffed a quiet laugh and stepped aside, and you swept past him into the gloom.

Gabby was the first to greet you in the parlor. Tired but poised, she extended a hand. “You must be the medium Kent wouldn’t stop talking about.”

“Wouldn’t stop talking?” you echoed, looking back at Kent.

“I wasn’t—” he started, flushing red.

Ben cut in with a grin. “Oh, he wouldn’t shut up. You’d think he’d found his long-lost pen pal.”

Gabby chuckled, and you smirked too. “Happy to meet you,” you told her, shaking her hand.

The air immediately brimmed with dynamic tension. Gabby’s curiosity, Ben’s skepticism, and Kent’s restless hovering made the room feel alive. Every time Kent leaned closer to you, the candles you lit flared; every time he pulled back, they dimmed. He rubbed his hands together like they itched.

“You’re twitchier than Ben was in my shop,” you teased.

“It’s just the house,” Kent muttered. “Or… your medium thing. Or ghosts. Definitely ghosts.”

You tilted your head at him. “Ever felt anything like that before?”

His joking demeanor faltered. He glanced away, voice dropping low. “The night I stopped my father. When I finally stood between him and my mom. There was… something in me. Stronger than I’d ever been. Gave me what I needed.”

You studied him in silence for a moment, then smiled faintly. “Hmm. Interesting.”

The temperature plunged, snuffing the candles. A piercing shriek rattled the walls, and the air thickened like a storm. A spirit burst into the parlor, all jagged light and gnashing teeth.

“Stay behind me!” you barked, hands rising. You chanted, “By earth and ash—”

The spirit roared and lashed out, its energy slamming you off your feet and into the wall. The spell ripped apart in your throat, and you hit the floor breathless.

The entity twisted toward Gabby and her son.

Kent surged forward without hesitation. “Hey!” he shouted, throwing out his hands as if instinct alone could shield them.

A brilliant wave of golden-white energy burst from his palms, striking the spirit and blasting it backward. The shriek turned into a howl of agony as the entity shredded apart, scattering like embers into the air before vanishing completely.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ben was the first to break it, his eyes nearly bulging. “What the actual hell, Kent?!”

Gabby clutched her son, stunned speechless “that’s him” she’d panted, “that was Alistair”

Kent stood frozen, staring at his glowing hands in horror. “What… what the hell was that?”

You rose slowly, brushing dust from your sleeves, your eyes fixed on him. “There you are.”

He looked at you helplessly, panic written all over his face. “That wasn’t me. It can’t be me.”

You stepped closer, calm and steady. “It is. That pull you’ve been feeling? It’s not the house. It’s us. The tether.”

Kent’s lips parted, chest heaving. “…Yes. It’s like I’m being pulled toward you. Like I can’t stop.”

You softened, voice warm but certain. “That’s because you’re my anchor.”

Ben blinked, glancing at Gabby. “Uh—okay. What the hell is an anchor?”

Gabby, still holding her son tight, added, “Yeah… you’ll need to explain that.”

You turned to them, patient. “An anchor is the one who holds me when I step into the spiritual realm. Keeps me tied to this plane so I don’t get lost. Most people with my gifts—if they’re lucky—they find theirs. It isn’t just anyone. It’s a soulmate. A living tether. We’re stronger together.”

The words hung heavy in the charged air. You and Kent locked eyes, that truth humming between you with undeniable weight.

Ben finally broke the silence with a scoff. “So… Father Kent just leveled up.”

Kent groaned, rolling his eyes. “Good Lord, Ben. Seriously?”

Despite everything, a laugh slipped from you. But when you looked back at Kent, your tone shifted, steady and certain. “I think it’s time you told them the truth.”

Kent stared at you, his jaw tight, breath uneven. After a long pause, he nodded. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

Chapter Text

The library smelled of old paper and dust, candlelight stretching shadows across the tall shelves. Everyone settled in silence. Kent sat at the head of the table, hunched forward, his hands wringing together like he could strangle the words back down. You sat close, steady, while Ben leaned against the mantel and Gabby sat protectively beside her son.

Finally, Kent exhaled shakily. “You deserve the truth. I’ve been lying to you both.” His hand tugged at the collar around his neck. “I’m not a priest. Never was. I sell Halloween costumes.”

Ben’s brows shot up. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Kent gave a humorless laugh. “I wish I was. This… this outfit just made me feel like I was someone good. Someone better. But the truth is… I’m not. The truth is ugly.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers trembling. “My dad… he was mean. Drank until he couldn’t see straight. Then he’d take it out on us.” His voice grew thin, breaking. “When I was little, maybe six, he’d backhand me just for being too loud. I remember the way the sound of his belt made my mom flinch before he even touched her. I remember hiding under the table, hearing her beg him not to hurt me. He’d shove her into walls, knock her down until she couldn’t stand.”

Gabby pressed her hand over her mouth, tears welling.

Kent swallowed hard, words spilling faster now, jagged and uneven. “When I was eleven, I tried to fight back. I thought maybe if I made him mad at me, he’d stop hitting her. He threw me down the stairs instead. I woke up with my arm bent wrong. He told me if I cried, he’d break the other one.”

His breath shuddered, and for a moment, he stared into nothing, lost. “He almost killed her once. I came home from school and found him choking her on the kitchen floor. Her face was purple. I thought she was dead. I hit him with the first thing I could grab—a frying pan. Just to make him stop. I was twelve.” His voice cracked, rough with shame. “That’s the kind of life we had. Always waiting for the next time. Always scared.”

The room was heavy with silence. Even Ben had no sarcasm ready.

Kent pressed on, the words spilling like blood from an old wound. “By the time I was seventeen, I wasn’t a kid anymore. And he came home one night, drunker, meaner than ever. He had a bottle in his hand, and he threw it at the wall. It shattered. He grabbed my mom by the hair and slammed her into the counter so hard she couldn’t breathe. And something in me just—snapped.” His eyes were wet, his voice breaking. “I grabbed a kitchen knife. I don’t even remember running across the room. Just… him on top of her, and me driving that knife into his side.”

Ben shut his eyes. Gabby pulled her son closer.

Kent’s voice dropped to a rasp. “He hit me so hard I saw stars, but I didn’t let go. I stabbed again. And again. Until he stopped moving. Until my mom could breathe. The blood was everywhere. On me. On her. On the floor.” His chest heaved, and his voice cracked like glass. “I’ve lived with that every day since. The guilt. The shame. Telling myself it was survival, but never really believing it.”

He lifted one trembling hand, faint golden sparks shimmering weakly from his palm. “And now I wonder… maybe it wasn’t just me. Maybe it was this. This anchor magic. The same thing that burst out tonight. The same thing that gave me the strength to finally stop him.”

He laughed bitterly, choking on it. “And I don’t know if I’m supposed to thank it… or hate it.”

You leaned closer, your voice steady, cutting through the silence. “Kent. Our gifts come when we need them. That night, it saved you. It saved your mom. And tonight, it saved us.”

Gabby’s eyes shone as she whispered, “I am so, so sorry you went through that. No one should. That shouldn’t have been your burden to carry.”

Even Ben, uncharacteristically quiet, spoke softly. “No one here is judging you. You did what you had to do. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

Kent’s eyes lingered on you, full of doubt and fear. “Are you… are you only interested in me because of what I am? Is that why you’re helping?”

Your heart clenched. Without hesitation, you slipped from your chair and knelt before him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “No. What I feel for you is real. The fact that you’re my anchor? That just makes it better. You’re not my burden, Kent. You’re my tether.”

His breath caught, his shoulders trembling. Slowly, he reached up, cupping the back of your head with a trembling hand, and pressed his lips to yours—soft, fragile, but full of release.

Ben broke the silence with an awkward cough. “Well… I’m glad you two found each other. Really. Especially since your combined superheroness is apparently our only shot at banishing this ghost. But uh—what happens now?”

You pulled back just enough to answer, your hand still on Kent’s knee. “Now we train him. Quickly. Power like his, raw and unchecked, will drain him fast. He needs to learn to channel it before it burns him out.”

Kent gave a shaky, almost disbelieving laugh. “So… what, I get a crash course in magic 101?”

You smiled faintly. “Something like that. You’re stronger than you think, Kent. You just need to learn to hold it.”

Ben groaned. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

Gabby, though, smiled softly through her tears. “If it means putting these spirits to rest… then we do it. Tonight.”

As if to punctuate her words, the house gave a low groan, the windows rattling in their frames. Somewhere deep in the mansion, a shriek carried through the halls—long, angry, and closer than before.

You rose, placing a steady hand on Kent’s shoulder. “Then it starts now.”

Kent’s hand covered yours, his fear still there—but steadied by something new. Resolve. And beneath it all, that tether between you burned brighter than ever.

Chapter Text

Fog curled thick around the graveyard, swallowing the crooked stones in pale silver. The mansion loomed in the background, its windows glowing faintly like watching eyes. Kent stood rigid at your side, sparks of golden light sputtering in restless fits from his palms. He looked half terrified, half determined, like a man bracing for either a miracle or a disaster.

“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath. “Feels like I’m about to blow up.”

“You won’t,” you said, your tone calm but teasing as you set candles in a loose ring across the damp grass. “Unless you ignore me. Then… maybe.”

His eyes flicked to you, incredulous. “That’s comforting.”

“It’s honest,” you quipped, then tipped your head toward a cracked angel statue leaning crooked near the fence. “Focus there. Don’t force it—direct it.”

Kent drew in a breath and raised his hands. The first surge of light exploded too violently, whizzing wide and tearing a chunk from a nearby headstone. He cursed and tried again—another burst, this time slamming into the dirt and sending a scorch mark across the ground.

“Damn it!” His voice rose in frustration. Sparks leapt off his skin, the energy whipping uncontrolled around him. “I can’t—I can’t hold this! It’s too much!”

You stepped forward quickly, seizing his trembling hands. “Kent. Look at me.”

His eyes snapped to yours, frantic and raw.

You guide his right hand up and pressed it firmly over your chest, exactly where the tether pulsed deepest. Your own hand covered his. “Feel that? The pull? That’s us. You’re not fighting this alone.”

His throat worked, his voice breaking. “What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” you whispered. “Your magic isn’t a weapon—it’s you. Flow it. Like breath. Like heartbeat. Into me, just a little. Boost the tether. Feel it.”

At first, the sparks sputtered, wild and hot, but then—slowly—they softened. A golden shimmer pulsed, flowing into you in a steady warmth. The tether tugged hard, pulling both of you close in a way that stole your breath.

Kent’s eyes widened, wonder dawning as he saw it. “I… I can feel it. Like it’s—like it’s alive.”

A smile curved your lips. “Perfect.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the tether binding you—his hand against your chest, your heartbeat under his palm, the magic flowing steady for the first time.

——————————————————

You drew his hand gently back and turned him toward the angel. “Now. Remember that flow. Channel it outward. Controlled. Breathe with it.”

Kent exhaled shakily, lifting his hands. This time the light didn’t spit in jagged bursts—it pooled, gathering in his palms. A sphere of golden energy built slowly, unstable at first, flickering with wild edges. He gritted his teeth, jaw tight, trying to hold it steady.

“Focus,” you urged. “Remember how it felt. My heartbeat. The tether. Flow, don’t fight.”

His eyes narrowed, his breathing syncing with the orb’s flicker. The sphere steadied, glowing hot and clean. He snapped his hand forward—

And the orb shot across the graveyard, slamming into the angel statue in a controlled blast. The stone exploded apart, wings shattering into dust that rained across the grass.

The night went still, save for Kent’s ragged breath. His palms dimmed, warm but no longer wild.

He turned to you, stunned. “I… did it.”

You grinned, pride lighting your face. “You didn’t just do it—you were extraordinary.”
For a long second, he only looked at you, the awe in his eyes brighter than any magic he’d just conjured.

———————————————————
From the mansion porch, Ben’s voice carried through the fog, loud and smug. “So is this what we’re calling training, or are you two just making goo-goo eyes while breaking priceless lawn ornaments?”

Kent didn’t flinch. For once, he smirked. With a casual flick of his hand, a spark leapt across the graveyard and zapped Ben’s hat clean off his head.

“Woah—dude! Not cool!” Ben shouted, scrambling to grab it.

You chuckled, shaking your head as Kent grinned wider. “Guess the training’s paying off already.”

Kent glanced back at Ben, deadpan. “Consider that your warning shot.”

You laughed with him, the sound mingling with the faint hum of the tether between you. For the first time, Kent wasn’t just surviving his magic—he was beginning to own it.

And as the fog thickened around the graveyard, you both knew the real battle was waiting inside the mansion.

Chapter Text

The great doors slammed shut as you, Kent, and Ben reentered the mansion, fog rolling in behind your boots. Ben kept his hand clamped firmly on his hat, shooting Kent a side-eye.

“You even think about zapping this thing off again, sparkle-fingers, and I’ll duct-tape it to my skull.”

Kent smirked as he strode into the grand hall. “Don’t tempt me.”

Before you could tease them both, Gabby hushed sharply. “Listen.”

The air chilled instantly. From the rafters above came the low, guttural laugh — Alistair Crump’s voice, echoing through the walls like claws dragging down glass.

He emerged at the far end of the hall, tall and skeletal in his tattered finery, eyes burning cold blue. “Ah. Back where you belong. In my house.”

You raised your arms, words already spilling out. “By earth and ash, by wind and flame—”

Crump lashed out before you could finish. A violent wave of force struck you full-on, sending you crashing to the marble. Your wards cracked and fizzled into nothing as pain shot through your ribs.

“Pathetic,” Crump sneered.

Kent froze, torn between you and the horror bearing down on him. Sparks flickered uselessly across his palms.

You forced your head up, voice rasping. “Kent… don’t fight it, it’s yours to command!”

Something steadied in him. He turned to Crump, jaw set, shoulders squaring. His eyes blazed white, hot and furious.

Ben’s jaw dropped. “Holy hell!”

Kent brought his hands together at his chest. Light sparked wildly, swirling into a brilliant, unstable orb. His teeth clenched as it threatened to burst apart. With a sharp pull, he yanked his arms wide, the orb unfurling into a massive golden shield stretching across the hall, shimmering with threads of white fire.

You pulled yourself upright, stunned. “We didn’t go over that.”

Kent glanced at you, then flicked his eyes toward Ben. “Guess sparkle-fingers graduated.”

“Kick his ass, Kent!” Ben shouted, clutching his hat.

Crump’s grin widened. “You think your little wall will hold me out? Let’s see how long before you choke on the truth.”

The air rippled. The shield wavered. And then the visions came.

Ben sank to his knees, bottles piling high around him, his wife’s picture turning away.

Gabby screamed as her husband’s final breath replayed in endless loop, her son’s sobs echoing louder and louder.

Kent gasped, his hands trembling, as blood slicked the kitchen floor again, his father’s sneer filling his vision, the knife heavy in his grip.

And you — your stomach turned as your parents’ faces contorted with rage. Freak. Curse. You’re not our daughter. Get out. You’ll never belong.

The shame seared. For a moment it almost swallowed you whole.

Then you forced your voice through the illusion, sharp and clear. “Kent! You have to push them out!”

Kent staggered, his body trembling. “I… I can’t,” he gasped, his voice breaking. The vision of his father loomed larger, dragging him deeper.

You lurched to his side, your hand gripping his shoulder tight. “Yes, you can,” you said fiercely, your voice grounding him. “You’re stronger than him. This is what you were made for. You are the anchor, Kent. Now push him out — for all of us.”

His chest heaved. His blazing eyes flicked to you, wavering — then hardened with a spark of defiance.

“No more,” he growled.

He slammed his foot into the marble floor with a roar. Power surged through the tether, blazing the shield white-hot until it seared the entire hall with light.

The visions shattered like glass, splintering into smoke and vanishing.

Gabby clutched her son, tears streaking her cheeks. Ben exhaled shakily, stunned. “Holy crap… he just nuked the nightmares.”

Kent stood tall, the glow still burning in his eyes, his hand trembling but steadying as you squeezed his shoulder.

You stepped closer, hand sliding into his. “On the count of three — drop the shield and blast him. Together.”

His brow furrowed. “Together? What do you—”

Your eyes flared emerald green, alive with power. His widened, breath catching. “You little enchantress… you’ve been hiding things from me.”

“Not hiding,” you smirked. “Just waiting for you.”

Crump shrieked, lunging.

“One,” you said calmly, your glow rising.

Gabby’s eyes widened in awe. “This is… incredible.”

“Two,” Kent said firmly, shoulders squared.

Ben tugged his hat lower, shaking his head. “Yeah… never wanna be on their bad side.”

And together, you and Kent whispered, “Three.”

Kent dropped the shield. Instantly, the two of you thrust your arms forward. His golden-white torrent and your emerald fire spiraled together, merging into a blinding force.

It slammed into Crump, binding him in radiant shackles. He howled, thrashing as chains wrapped tight around his skeletal body, dragging him backward.

“No! You cannot bind me!”

The shackles yanked him through the grand hall, out the doors, into the graveyard. The earth split wide, an open tomb waiting. The chains dragged him in as he screamed. With a thunderous slam, the grave sealed, silencing him forever.

The hall went still.

And you and Kent collapsed together, unconscious but still holding hands.

————————————————————————————

“Hey, come on, wake up!” Ben’s voice cracked as he and Gabby knelt over you both, shaking you.

You gasped awake first, chest heaving. Kent stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open. Relief flooded Gabby’s face, and Ben let out a shaky laugh. “You did it. You two actually did it.”

Around you, spirits began to appear — free, glowing, laughing as they danced through the hall. Joy replaced dread as their chains dissolved.

A small boy ghost tugged Gabby’s sleeve. “Thank you for freeing us. But… we don’t want to go. This is our home.”

Gabby knelt, her smile warm. “You don’t have to leave. We’ll take care of you here.”

Amid the laughter of freed spirits, you and Kent clung to each other. Foreheads pressed close, tether humming between you.

His voice was low, breaking but steady. “No matter where we go… no matter what comes… I’ll always tether you. Always.”

Your lips curved in a soft smile. “I’m so lucky.”

His hand cupped your face, and you kissed him deeply, passionately. Around you, ghosts celebrated their freedom — but all you felt was him, your anchor, bound to you forever.