#spectral horrorterror au

[words-writ-in-starlight]

hey star your tags on that umbrella academy post? abt ben tapping into his residual eldritch abomination powers to keep the ghosts away from his brother? VISIONARY

Hey listen.  This was gonna be a short ramble about this concept.  Now...I’m not sure if I’m going to expand it, but.  I sure did write it.

Klaus overdoses for the second time when he’s twenty.

He overdosed for the firsttime two days after his brother’s funeral.  That’s another story, but theshort version goes like this.  Klaus started crying after he stopped screaming,and Ben didn’t leave.  Then he stopped crying and he started drinking, andBen didn’t leave.  Before the funeral, hetook some pills, and Ben didn’t leave.  After the funeral, he tookwhatever he could get his hands on, and Ben vanished like the rest of them, hisfragile link to Klaus eroded by the high, and then--smash cut to KlausHargreeves in an ambulance, in a hospital bed, in the tabloids.  Bendoesn’t know how he forced his way through Klaus’ haze of intoxication enoughto be seen, when Klaus came to, briefly, in the ambulance, but he alsoknows that Klaus has never managed to get rid of him properly since.

Point is, Klaus is twenty andit’s a Monday and Ben is going to fucking kill him if he lives through this.

“Klaus!  Klaus, get up!” Ben shouts.

“B’nny,” Klaus drawls, soslow, like the words are as thick as tar. He’s not quite all gone yet but Klaus, and by extension Ben, has hungaround a lot of junkies lately.  Benknows what it looks like as the crest of a heroin overdose starts to crash downlike a wave, and he’s not fucking lettingit.  “Shhh.”

“Fuck you, get up and call an ambulance!”

“D’n wanna.”

It’s been a long time sinceBen forgot he was dead, but he grabs thoughtlessly at Klaus, moving to shakehim or drag him to his feet or something.  His hands slip right into Klaus’ chest with ashock like static discharge.  It’s not agreat feeling for the dead, generally worse for the living, and from the looksof things, enough heroin to drop someone twice Klaus’ size makes it even moreunpleasant.

“Go’way,” Klaus says, slidingfurther down in his seat so that Ben’s hands phase out of him.  “M’tired.”

Ben does not go away.  “Get up.”

“No.”

Ben kicks him in the leg.  

It doesn’t connect, of course,but Ben can’t do much else.  Klaus wincesaway from the cold shock of Ben’s foot passing through his shin, pulling bothfeet up clumsily onto the couch, and Ben aims an open-handed slap at Klaus’head.  It makes Klaus rock sideways toavoid it, toward the phone on the counter five feet away.  Ben sits down on the couch right where Klausis obviously hoping to lie down, and Klaus shivers away from him.

“Phone,” Ben says flatly.  “Now.” He hesitates.  “I don’t want towatch you die, Klaus.”

It’s a low blow.  Emotional honesty is cheating, in Hargreeves familyarguments.  He can see something likeconfused betrayal cross Klaus’ face, like Ben just went for a crotch shotduring a friendly sparring match.

Fucking tough.

“Call an ambulance,” Ben repeats.

Klaus stares at him.  Ben doesn’t flinch.

The ambulance gets thereseven minutes later.

Diego’s number is in Klaus’pocket, because Diego offered and Ben heckled Klaus until he agreed, and ittakes hours for Diego to show up.  In themeantime, Ben sits on the foot of Klaus’ bed, hands clasped in front of hismouth, and watches the in-and-out drift of the ghosts around them, as naloxoneand heroin compete for ownership of Klaus’ system.  When the nurse comes in and ups the naloxonedose, the ghosts surge to the fore, not quite real enough to speak but morethan real enough to cluster around the foot of Klaus’ bed.  As the naloxone degrades and the heroin risesback to the fore, the ghosts fade again as Klaus’ breathing slows.  

Ben is dead.  He can’t feel his heart race or his handsshake with the adrenaline drop—he can’t doadrenaline anymore.  He’s rare, evenunique, in his experience of the dead, because when he died he seems to havejust gone cold, rather than being trapped in an endless nightmare of his owndeath.  He can be furious, he can beafraid, he can be happy, but it’s all muffled in comparison to when he wasalive.  Never more muffled than now.  The more sober Klaus is, the more real Benis, but right now—

Well, right now Klaus isabout as far from sober as he can get without being dead, and Ben, for once, appreciates the clarity.

This needs to not happenagain.  Later, when Klaus is awake, maybeBen will be able to attach frantic worry and the keening, screaming fear ofbeing alone to that sentiment, but right now it’s a fact, plain andsimple.  This needs to not happenagain.  The drugs are one thing, but thiswillful, reckless self-endangerment must stop, for both their sakes.

For all their sakes, really, because real-Ben might be angry with hissiblings for letting Klaus slip away, but dead-Ben, cold-Ben, he knows that theycare.  They’re just too busy beingwrapped up in their own damage to notice that Klaus has been drowning sincethey were kids.

Ben sits there for an hour,watching the ghosts ebb and flow, and turns the problem over in his mind.  He needs to do something to save Klaus,because his siblings won’t.  It’s nottheir fault, they just don’t get why Klaus needs saving.  None of them understand what it’s like to beterrified of their own powers.  Hell, ifbeing high had closed away the shadowed parts of Ben’s mind, sealed whateverportal They could touch him through, he can see how he might have ended up inthis hospital bed himself.

There’s a thought, Benmuses.  Klaus is on the downswing, andBen’s cold enough to think about it, at the moment.  Being dead has made him—limited.  He doesn’t feel the need, the craving, thatradiated from Them when he was alive.  Maybebecause Klaus is never sober enough to make him that real, maybe because beingdead means that They don’t need blood the same way Ben doesn’t need water.  

But that begs the question ofwhether They’re gone or just resting.

For the first time since thedisastrous mission that cost Ben his life, he closes his eyes and reaches out,and—

And tentacles burst out of hischest, out of his belly, as painlessly and easily as flexing his fingers.

Ben is startled enough thatit cuts through the cold, just for a moment, and the tentacles stay there,rippling like he’s underwater, stirred by currents that he can’t see.  They’re cold and slick to the touch when helets one wrap around his hand—not slimy, just slick, like steel doused withwater.  There’s no blood, this time, nopenalty for keeping Them locked away all these years, They’re just there. He can’t even feel the burning strain of keeping things under control.

Of course.  The dead can’t feel pain.

Not that Ben wouldn’t tradeanything to be alive again, but also: this is an unforeseen upside of deaththat he will have to remember to appreciate, after Klaus is conscious and hecan appreciate things again.  

For the moment, he’s going tobuy them some time.

Ben dismisses the tentacles—Theyvanish like he’s waved his hand through steam, easy like it never was when hewas alive—and resettles himself on the end of Klaus’ bed, legs crossed andelbows propped on his knees.  Then hewatches a nurse come in and check the naloxone, and he waits for the ghosts tocome back.

Here’s the thing.

Ben was never really…aplanner, when he was alive.  He outgrewplans fairly young, because frankly no plan survived contact with Them andeventually Ben learned to roll with the punches.  There was very little in the way of finesseto being more or less the party tank. Ben stood back with Klaus while Diego and Luther and Allison and Fivecleared civilians and took down anyone who got in their way, and then Benkilled everyone who was left over.  Verysimple.  All he ever had to do was keephis mouth shut and not have a panic attack until after they were donedebriefing with their father.

Now he’s here, and he’s notentirely sure what he’s going to do.  Ben has only the vaguest recollection of how Reginaldtaught them to plan, something to the tune of set your goals and consider how to achieve them with the availableresources, which was less than helpful when they were eleven and isn’t muchbetter now.  

Ben wants Klaus to nevernearly kill himself again.  Therefore, Benwants Klaus to stop taking drugs so much. His goal is to get Klaus to go to rehab and make it stick thistime.  

Ben is a ghost and can’texactly do anything to make Klauscooperate, except apparently emotionally blackmail him.  Ben’s sum total of available resources comesto two: he has his voice, and he has ghost tentacles that can’t do anything toKlaus except possibly startle him.  Notlikely.  Klaus is jittery in the way ofjunkies everywhere, but his threshold for ‘startled’ is high, because he spendsall his time ignoring ghosts with their intestines dangling out of their abdomen.  So Ben can yell at him.  Excellent. Not helpful, obviously, because if Ben could change Klaus’ mind byyelling, he definitely would have managed it by now.

Klaus must be cycling up again,because frustration wells up in Ben’s chest like water coming to a boil, and aghost clarifies to Ben’s right.

“Fuck off,” Ben tells theghost, scowling.  It’s a woman in a bloodyblue dress, and she has a steak knife buried in her eye.  She looks to him when he speaks, but not forlong—Ben is dead too, and ghosts hold little interest for their own kind as faras he can tell.  Ben hasn’t been hauntedsince he died, according to Klaus, and it’s nice, admittedly, to have Klauslook at him sometimes these days.  By thetime Ben died, Klaus could barely stand to be sober in the same room with him.  

Ben’s not sure how manypeople he’s killed.  He’s pretty sureKlaus could tell him, and he absolutely does not want to hear that number.

The woman in blue edgestoward Klaus, and in the corners of the room, Ben can see other ghosts clarifying.  It’s the only word for it, when they blurback into reality after being driven away by Klaus’ latest high, and they’recoming back gradually, but more strongly than before.  The heroin must be starting to work its wayout of Klaus’ system.

Ben feels another emotionclick into place, resurrected by Klaus’ gradual return to the world of theliving, and it’s the fear.  He’s on aclock.  The second Klaus is well enoughto wander out of this hospital, he’s going to go try to deafen himself to theghosts again.  Klaus will kill himselflong and slow with apathy and chemicals, right up until he kills himself fast with chemicals, and Ben isn’t surehe can shout Klaus into saving his own life twice.

Fuck, what is Ben supposed todo here?  

For a moment, angry andedging toward frantic, Ben misses Luther so sharply it hurts.  Luther is too much of a linear thinker to bea good strategist, not exactly a leader for the ages, kind of insufferable evenat his better moments—but he was Number One. When one of them didn’t want to be responsible for their plans, theircrisis, their mission, they could turn to Luther and shove it all into hishands and walk the fuck away.  Luthermight not do the right thing, but he’ddo something, and it wouldn’t be Ben’sfault if it went horribly wrong.  If Bensits here frozen and indecisive until Klaus walks out to buy some cocaine orsome meth or God knows what else, that’s going to be Ben’s fault, and he wishesNumber One was here to take over.

The woman in blue is standingat Klaus’ bedside now, near his hand, and she leans over, and opens her mouth.

“Please,” she says, and hervoice might be pretty if it wasn’t ravaged like she’s been crying or screamingor both.  “Please.  You have to saveher, you have to--”

“Hey,” Ben barks as Klausstirs, just slightly, under the sheet.  “Hedoesn’t have to do anything.”

She ignores him, bendingcloser, one shaking hand reaching out toward Klaus as if to grab him.  Sometimes newer ghosts are like that, handsy,like they’ve forgotten they can’t touch Klaus and cling to him until he listens to them, and—

Klaus’s heart rate isstarting to pick up.  

Ben needs more time, more time to find a solution.

The woman in blue is stillbegging, and the steady beep of Klaus’ heart monitor is marking his slow returnto consciousness, and the gathered ghosts are starting to murmur, and it’s beena long time since Ben remembered sensory overload but he needs quiet, just for a moment, just for longenough to figure out what to do.

“Don’t touch him!” Ben says,and grabs the woman in blue by the shoulder.

It—works.

Ben doesn’t think about itfor too long, just slides off the hospital bed and all but throws her backward.  If he thinks about it, he’s definitely goingto reach some kind of internal limit on the amount of stress he can take andglitch out of existence.  So he doesn’tthink, just uses a grip that Diego taught him when they were kids and sends herflying back.

She looks shocked, startledout of her cycle of begging and screaming and shouting, and Ben is standingbetween her and Klaus.  

“Don’t touch him,” Benrepeats, flatly.  “He’s sleeping.”

“I just—I just need to talkto him,” she says.  To Ben, now.  Apparently, getting violent is enough to earnBen a moment of attention.

“Not right now you don’t.”

“I need—I have to--”

Maybe he should bekinder.  Maybe he should be softer, maybehe should understand her desperation, maybe he should see something worth helpinghere, but—

She reaches out, trying toget past Ben, and all he sees is a threat.

“Stop,” Ben snarls, and They come to his call, and the woman in bluebarely has a moment to look horrified before Ben rips her spectral self into somany tatters of mist.  There’s noscreaming.  A tentacle clamps over hermouth and tears her head clean off before she can manage it.

Years of habit forces theshock and alarm, the automatic oh Godwhat did I do, into the back of Ben’s mind to be dealt with later.  It’s been a long time since he slipped intothe mindset of a mission, but no one ever said the Umbrella Academy was poorlytrained, and it settles into place without any effort at all.

The woman in blue doesn’treform.  It’s possible he’s destroyed hercompletely.  He’ll deal with that later,too.  For now, he steps forward, towardthe ghosts huddled around the foot of Klaus’ bed and puts on his best, mostmerciless tone, and says, “Who’s next?”

Five ghosts are next.  In order, they are an old man with a slashedthroat, a girl no more than thirteen whose right side is broken from femur toshoulder, a young man with three bullet holes in his gut and a fourth betweenhis eyes, a woman in her prime dressed in torn clothes and a slashed throat,and an old woman without any injuries at all, save for the IV shunt stillleaking blood from her hand.  Each ofthem try to speak to Ben.  Three of themtry to shout past him, at Klaus, who hasn’t quite beaten the sedative drag ofthe heroin enough to open his eyes.

Ben tears through them liketissue paper, one after another.

Later, he might be appalledat himself for it.  Right now, all he canfeel is a dim, grim gratitude that ghosts don’t bleed.

Ben always hated beingcovered in other people’s blood.

When he’s done, he turns hisgaze on the remaining ghosts.  They lookback at him with an unusual degree of presence of mind, the kind of humanity he’s not used to seeing in themexcept in the rare moments that Klaus pays attention to them.  Ben steps forward.  They shuffle back.

A vague part of Ben’s mind titterswildly—he’s scaring ghosts now.  Wouldn’tDaddy Dearest be proud of his pet monster?

“Get lost,” he snaps.

Wonder of fucking wonders—theygo.  Some of them fade away.  A few, so obviously terrified of the sleektentacles writhing eagerly around Ben, leave more mundanely, through the opendoor.  Only two linger—a woman withbright green eyes and the same perpetually sad set to her lips that Klaus wearsso casually over his smile, and a man in fatigues with blood on his chest.  But they don’t speak, and they don’t approachKlaus, and they stay well back from Ben.

Ben glares at them both,trying to convey how much he is notfucking around.

The soldier gives him asalute, and then they fade too.

“B’n?” Klaus mumbles frombehind him, in the raspy voice of someone who was mostly comatose not too longago.  Klaus has always recoveredfreakishly fast, once he manages to get past the worst of a brush with death,this is a known fact.  It’s like Deathdoesn’t want him.  Ben still twitches insurprise at the sound, and dismisses Them before he turns around.

“Klaus, you’re awake.”

“Mmm,” Klaus says, crackingan eye open to peer at Ben.  The othereye opens.  “Heard s’methin’.”

“There’s no one here,” Bensays, and stuffs both hands into his pockets.  “Just me.”

[hellcatchvalley]

cr modern au where everything is normal but mittens is still a spectral black cat that’s like a mini horrorterror and minxie is still a white sabertooth tiger