Look what I found in my old fic folder :D Damn, I'd forgotten I ever wrote this...well, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it last year/two years ago!
(Edit: 'kay for those who didn't understand the story or were confused about something, I've posted an explanation/rough timeline on my profile. Check it out if you want!)
It all started with Danny. Of course, it always started with Danny: the Portal, the accident, the Ghosts, the Awakening...Always, always Danny.
She had decided long ago that that was okay.
It was funny, how a single moment could change your life so much: she hadn't been exactly aware of this (or maybe she had forgotten?) until the gunshot had hit her, sending her to the floor with a scream of pain. He had been there and because of that, because of her-
But no, it had been all their fault.
Sam looked again at his work, humming in approval at seeing the nearly finished doll in her hands.
It all started with Danny. Then, she simply had understood that it couldn't end there.
A faint light caught her attention, and she turned her gaze away from the doll, the needle going still immediately.
"Ah, already morning?" Sam mused, looking at the wall of glass behind her.
True enough, it seemed that the sun was starting to rise, bathing the city with its light. Sam smiled slightly, and went back to her work. It would be over soon, and then she could go to play.
She couldn't be more excited.
As the needle went in and out of the doll, Sam thought about the preparations. The oil was ready and the carvings were waiting to be soaked in the warm liquid necessary to do this right. Now, was she forgetting something? No, all seemed to be in place.
She went back to humming, a habit taken over the years. After all, no matter how much they all played together, they couldn't be with her all the time. It upset her, but singing helped. And by now, she was sure Danny would be impressed when she showed him her mastered skill.
It had started with Danny, but as soon as she had gotten her wish fulfilled (and by no one else than herself) she had seen the truth. It had been wonderful. And so, in order to be able to share her new secret, she had done more, worked more. And it had been all such a high quality job: she had to use them, only so to see the smiles in others, their joy, to feel the rush of satisfaction and happiness.
But at that time she hadn't understood that other people wouldn't be able to understand, or would be too afraid. Why, she had no clue. It was a perfect genius idea! It had to be that: too novel for them. Clicking her tongue, she shook her head in disappointment, remembering with nostalgia her granny's reaction when she told her.
(That had been messy.)
Oh well, it didn't matter anymore. After all, she had been able to reunite all her beloved ones (and hadn't that been more difficult and messier than she thought!) and even some of her least favorite people, just to have a little bit of variety. At first, she hadn't yielded a single thought about doing so, but with time she had realized how boring it would all become without someone to distract them: Danny, at least, would get bored quickly.
Sam chuckled, a stray lock of hair landing in her cheek. Pausing the needle for a moment, she put the gray lock were it belonged.
But ah, maybe she had overdone herself a little. Sending a glance back to the glass, she hummed, finally shrugging. Nah, the more perfect it was, the better. She had spent a lot of time in this project, and in not too long it would pay off way better that she ever could have dreamed.
She smiled again, observing the doll's face. A little smile made of black threat stood out against the fabric, not too small to be invisible but not too large to be too obvious. The black hair of the doll's head fell gracefully, and she had managed to give it a small ponytail for further accuracy. The dark clothes were stylish, and with the booths it gave a 'goth' feeling that Sam approved of. With a swift of a hand, the threat of the needle cut short, to be effortlessly replaced with another one, the first button flying to the face of the doll. As the needle started to sew the eye to the face made of cloth, Sam wondered if her script would be good enough. Then, she chastised herself for her own stupidity.
Of course it would be good enough! Danny would be very, very happy about it. Yeah, it wasn't as if it would be as exciting as going by a hunch, but it would be funny enough. It was a game after all, no?
A game could be hardly anything but exciting.
Cutting the threat again, she proceed to sew the second eye. A little more, just a little more...Humming the words of a song long forgotten, she watched as the sun rose in the sky, pleased with the view. It was perfect.
With a last tug, the needle finished its work, the unused threat combusting in the act, and leaving behind the smell of burnt hair. Ignoring it, Sam admired her work, eyes shining with pride and mouth tugging into a smile, wrinkles kissing her face deeply. It was finished.
Getting up, and ignoring the dull ache of sitting for many hours in the same position and the weakness in her legs, she left the doll to float in the air and headed towards the wide desk that was in a corner of the room: there, she took hold of a cup and a knife, and stretched to grab the little necklace that hung from a pin nailed to the wall, and which had a round piece of carved wood hanging as a jewel. The carvings went from deep markings to light scratches, forms too complicated to try to decipher, and Sam gave it a passing glance as she put it at her right side, ready to be used when needed. She had spent years trying to figure it out (introspection had never been her real forte), but she was fairly sure it would work well enough.
With some eagerness betraying her movements, she took the knife in her right hand, observing it and watching with contentment every line, notch and curve. The knife had been with her since she'd turned sixteen, a gift she'd made to herself after she realized what her new goal was.
And now, it would finally fulfill its purpose.
Carefully, she placed the sharp side of the knife over her wrist, feeling the cold metal kissing her skin before pulling it away with a tug. A little fountain of red spurted out, the warm liquid dripping from her wrist to the cup. She watched, entranced, as the cup filled with the deep red, and left the knife in the table, its use postponed for now. With a calculated movement, her free hand took the amulet's string, and bathed the wood jewel in the cup as her lips moved in silent words. The candles that stood at her surroundings flickered, the thick magic filling the atmosphere and making it hard to breathe. The witch continued chanting, until she suddenly shut her lips with a breath. Automatically, the room filled again with air. Slowly, she pulled the amulet out, and watched the three little red pearls that now protruded from the wood. Her eyes shone with happiness, but her face remained impassive as she took once again the knife, and moved away from the table to the center of the room. There, a little city made of wood and plastic lied encased in an orb of crystal, also encased in a bigger orb. The witch observed the city for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. Instantly, the doll that had been suspended in the air floated towards her, and then passed through the glass, finally setting down in one of the dolls' houses, along with the dolls of a couple of blondes, a man and a woman, brightly dressed.
Circling the miniature city slowly, words began to pour from the witch's mouth, so twisted and wrong that seemed to set a chill into the air and distort the light in the room. At her feet and surrounding the city, inside of the bigger glass, other necklaces lied, each carving different from the other, and each one of them a blackish color. At the necklaces' side were little packages, the cloths that draped them stained with dark colors.
Finally, the witch went still, and the hand that had been holding the necklace moved towards the shield of glass. With a small whisper, the woman let the amulet fall, passing harmlessly through the glass with the weightlessness of a feather. Her right hand took again possession of the knife, staining the skin with blood and, as her lips moved in fast words, she lifted the injured wrist, watching it with determination. As the chant became to its end, the knife wielding hand fell with a precision and skill honed with years of experience, severing the appendage with a clean cut. Blood splashed the glass, and the separated appendage stood in the air, red liquid still dripping. A white cloth flew to it, draping itself around the hand as red stains blossomed in it. The package floated down to lie at the pendant's side, and the witch continued her spell.
Going to her knees, words louder with each passing syllable and voice growing stronger and clearer, the witch's hand dropped the knife, which began to float, stopping at her head's height. Candles flickered, blowing out as the atmosphere became too intense as the chants filled the room.
Then, silence reigned.
The hiss of a knife was heard, followed by the thud of a body, and then other.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It all started with a girl, who befriended two boys. The parents of one of them were scientists and, the day they finished their greatest creation, she wanted to see it work.
Her wish was granted.