Status: This is a completed seven-part fic, I'll update once a day.

Apparitions and Other Everyday Abnormalities

Part Six

When I got back home Spencer hugged me and didn’t say a word as I cried on his shoulder. I told him I wanted to be alone and went up to my room, fell onto my bed and cried myself to sleep. When I woke up it took me a few seconds to remember. I turned over expecting to see Brendon sitting on my futon reading one of my books or sitting upside down humming to himself. But I turned around and he wasn’t there. Then I remembered that he’s gone.

I haven’t left my bed all day. I haven’t done anything. I’ve been lying in the same spot, crying off and on, thinking about how much I would give anything to have him back; to be with him again. In a short amount of time he became everything to me. He put the light in my eyes. He made my life worth living. I don’t even want to exist anymore. I never realized how much a part of me he really was. I feel like I’ve been ripped in half and the only thing left of me is the bad. He was the good, and now I’m alone.

We spend our whole lives looking for that perfect person; someone that we can’t get enough of, that we want to spend every second of every day with. I was lucky enough to find that person, and he was taken from me. I will never, ever be able to love anyone else. Brendon was the one. He was the one I was supposed to be with forever. I would do anything to be with him again.

Spencer calls over and over but I ignore the calls. Patrick calls a couple of times too. My mom isn’t going to be home for another four days, but I’m just fine being alone. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be alone for the rest of my life no matter how many people are in the room.

I start thinking about Brendon and all of the time I spent with him, which is something I told myself I wouldn’t do. The way he would have that little spark in his eyes when he was teasing me, the ridiculous questions he would ask, his smile that could light up the whole room; I can’t get it out of my head. I think about how my heart fluttered when he said he loved me, and a tear slides down my face. I never understood the term ‘broken-hearted’ but I do now because there is no other way to describe the way I feel.

I don’t understand why all of this had to happen. Why did Brendon have to be murdered? Things would have been so much easier if he were alive, and none of this would have ever happened. Who knew that my life would be changed so much by a dead person. Maybe things would have been easier if I were dead too. Brendon and I both would have been dead, together and- wait. That’s it. I sit upright and ignore the rush of dizziness I get from the quick movement. If I was dead, I could be with him again. We could be together again.

I jump out of bed, pacing around my room. I feel hopeless. I feel like I’m going to have this huge hole inside of me forever, and it hurts. Everything hurts.

One tear turns into three, three tears turn into five, and then I’m right back to choking out sobs. I stop pacing and fall to the ground. I was stupid to ever think that I could be okay. I was stupid to think that my life was even worth living anymore.

I look around frantically until I spot my pocket knife on my nightstand. I crawl over to it and grab it with shaky hands. I flip it open, watching how the light reflects off the shiny steel. I bite my lip and cry harder, just wanting it all to be over. My hand shakes as I bring the knife to my arm, tears falling more steadily. Before I can rethink it, I drag the knife down my wrist as hard as I can, instantly feeling the searing pain and watching the blood seep from the cut. I ignore the pain and put the knife to my other arm. Another sob wrenches from me as I make a second cut. The knife slips from my hands and falls to the floor. I curl up against my bed and cry through the burning pain on my wrists, thinking about Brendon until I fall asleep.


“Ryan!” someone screams, jerking me back awake. I sit up, my heart racing and my arms throbbing and look at a terrified Spencer. And then I remember. My heart sinks as I look at my wrists. There’s blood all over them, dried up now.

“No,” I mumble miserably. “It didn’t work. I didn’t do it deep enough,” I start to cry again.

“What the hell?” Spencer says through a shaky voice. He walks over to me and grabs my wrists. “What the fuck were you thinking, Ryan?” he screams at me. “You almost killed yourself!”

“It didn’t work,” I whisper, shaking my head and crying. “I want to die, Spence.”

“Listen to yourself,” he says a bit quieter this time. “Ryan, why would you do this?”

“I just want to be with him again,” I cry. “I just want to die.” Spencer looks scared as he helps me up and leads me to the bathroom.

“Ryan, you have to let this go, okay? I know it’s hard but-”

“No, you don’t!” I interrupt. “You don’t know! I love him, Spencer! What if it were Haley? What if she was the ghost and this happened to her? Are you saying that you wouldn’t want to die so you could be with her?” I yell. Spencer’s face softens and he looks down guiltily. “That’s what I thought.”

“Still. Do you think Brendon would want you to kill yourself?” he asks quietly. I close my eyes at the mention of Brendon. Spencer bandages my wrists and I sit in silence while he does it. Once he’s finished I stand up and look him in the eyes.

“I am not going to live without him,” I say firmly before walking back into my room and crawling underneath my covers. I hear Spencer sigh as he walks in behind me.

“I’m not just going to let you kill yourself,” he says while he takes a seat beside me on the bed.

“It’s my life!” I shout. “Why do you get to decide that for me?”

“Because you aren’t thinking straight, so somebody has to,” he argues. I’m about to tell him to fuck off when my phone rings. I answer it just so I don’t have to talk to Spencer, and it’s Patrick.

“Hello?” I say into the phone.

Ryan,” he starts, and he sounds frantic. “You need to come to the shop now.” I sit up, my eyebrows creasing.

“Why?” I ask.

Because I think I found something- look, it’s about Brendon. Just come, now,” he says quickly before hanging up. I jump out of bed and rush around to get my clothes on, trying not to get my hopes up. It could be nothing.

“What is it?” Spencer asks, also standing up.

“Patrick said to come to his shop. It’s about Brendon,” I inform him quickly, grabbing my keys.

“I’m coming this time,” he says. There’s no point in arguing so I just run downstairs with him behind me.

I get there as fast as I possibly can and run in to see Patrick pacing back and forth along a row of books.

“Well?” I ask loudly.

“You’re here! Follow me,” he says, leading us into a back room.

“After you left last night I-” he cuts himself off, eyes widening at the bandages on my wrists. “Ryan, did you…?” he trails off.

“Do we have time for this?” I rush him. He shakes himself and clears his throat.

“Right. So after you left I thought maybe I’d do a little research so I spent the entire night and all of today reading through every book I own, and then I found this," he says, pointing to the book in his hand. “Remember how I said most ghosts were not so friendly? Well apparently they also don’t like it when people try to keep one of them from moving to their world.” I stare at him confusedly.

“What are you saying?”

“They took Brendon. I didn’t know it could happen but it can. They didn’t want you to bring him back to life so they took him,” he says, waving his arms about and talking with his hands.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I mumble dejectedly. “He’s gone.”

“No, look. I was reading back over the ceremony for bringing back a life, and it did say that the ghost has to choose to stay and you said that Brendon did.”

“Yeah, he did,” I agree, not sure what that changes.

“So maybe since he was taken against his will, the ceremony will still work,” he says wildly. I feel my face grow with understanding and a little bit of hope seeps its way back into me. Spencer is just watching from the corner of the room.

“Well what do we do?” I ask determinedly. Patrick smiles.

“I’ve already set everything up. Here’s the thing though. If the spirits that took him were dark, then it would be bad if they were let loose here. So I’ve got to do a cleansing ritual first. It’ll only take a minute,” he says and I nod along, watching as he grabs something from the table in the middle of the room.

“What’s that?” Spencer speak for the first time.

“It’s called a smudge stick,” Patrick explains. “It’s made of dried sage and lavender. The smoke cleanses the area; keeps away evil spirits,” he shrugs. He lights the end on fire and then blows it out so that thick, billowy smoke trails out of it. He waves it around the room, muttering something under his breath. When the smoke stops, Patrick places the smudge stick back on the table and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Are you ready?” he asks. I immediately nod.

“Here’s what you have to do. First of all, come stand in this circle,” he points to a circle drawn in the floor on the opposite side of the room. The circle is surrounded by already lit candles. I step over them into the circle. “Alright. Now you’re going to need this crystal,” he hands me a palm-sized white crystal. “And this,” he says quietly, handing me a razor. I swallow and put the items by my feet. “Go ahead and sit down cross-legged,” he orders and I do as I’m told.

“Will it take long?” I ask.

“No, it’s very quick actually. Now here’s how this works. You have to place that crystal in the middle of the circle. After that you have to clear your mind and think of nothing but Brendon. That part is crucial, Ryan. Absolutely nothing in your mind but Brendon, got it?” he asks seriously. I nod. “Then you have to have blood, so you’re going to need to make a cut somewhere. Your hand would be easiest. Let the blood drip onto the crystal and at the same time say, ‘Moartea va aduce viața din nou’ three times,” he says slowly. I replay his words in my head, staring at him confusedly. “It means ‘death will bring life once again.’ The spell is in Romanian,” he explains. I take a huge breath, willing myself to relax and hope that this works.

“Here I go,” I whisper to myself. I carefully place the crystal in the middle of the circle and then I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. Think of Brendon. Nothing but Brendon. I think about the time he nearly made me crash my car, the time we watched Moulin Rouge together, the first time we kissed; he’s the only thing in my head when I press the razor to my palm and swiftly make a cut. It stings but I don’t care. I move my hand over to the crystal and as soon as the blood starts to drip I repeat Patrick’s words.

Moartea va aduce viața din nou,” I annunciate carefully. The crystal starts absorbing my blood.

Moartea va aduce viața din nou.” The room gets cold.

Moartea va aduce viața din nou,” I say for the final time. The crystal suddenly starts expelling all of the blood it absorbed and the air starts whipping around me.

“I think it’s working,” I hear Patrick say quietly. My blood starts pounding in my veins.

The crystal is shaking on the ground, the lights are flickering, and I’m scared. I hear screeching noises and I cover my ears while the crystal lifts into the air and then quickly drops back down, shattering. All of the pieces start to form together again, but into something else. I can’t believe my eyes as I watch the pieces mold and expand until they aren’t crystals anymore; they’re forming a person. The person is glowing; shimmering even. The air stops thrashing around me. The person slowly transforms into Brendon. It’s Brendon. He’s lying there, but his eyes are closed and he isn’t moving. I wait until everything is over. The noise stops and the flames of the candles die down. Everything is silent now.

“Brendon?” I whisper. I lay a hand on his chest, but he still doesn’t move. I put my head there and I don’t hear a heartbeat. “Patrick, he’s not alive,” I say frantically. “He doesn’t have a heartbeat.” Patrick rushes over with a book.

“What? But that was supposed to work. That was it,” he shakes his head helplessly. He starts flipping through the pages, and I feel new tears.

“Brendon, please,” I mumble. Nothing. “I didn’t do all this so you would come back dead,” I say loudly. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Here!” Patrick exclaims suddenly. “This is a different spell but I think it might work. Make a cut on his palm just like yours and then join them. Bind your blood together.” I nod avidly, grabbing the razor and silently apologizing to Brendon before making a cut identical to mine on his palm. When the blood starts seeping out I press my cut to his, lacing our fingers together.

“Come on, Brendon,” I mumble, tears dripping onto the floor. “Come on, baby.” Nothing happens. A sob tears through me and I grasp his hand tighter. “Come on,” I whisper. I start to give up, worried that I’ve only made everything worse, but then I hear the faintest of noises against Brendon’s chest. I freeze with a sharp intake of breath. I wait and listen until I hear it again. And again. A heartbeat. “Brendon,” I say, raising up and watching his face. The dark lashes resting against his pale cheeks start to flutter. He opens his eyes and I can’t breathe. He blinks a few times, darting his eyes around until they land on me. He looks confused for a minute until his eyes widen.

“Ryan?” he whispers. At hearing his voice I start violently shaking and sobbing again, falling onto him and holding him as tight as I can. “I’m. I’m alive,” he says disbelievingly. “How did-”

“I told you I would do it for you,” I manage to get out between my sobs. I don’t know how long we lie there crying on each other, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the fact that Brendon is here. He’s here and I’m never, ever letting him go again.