Author's note: In the US, college is equivalent to university. Spencer is supposed to be 18 for the majority of this story, and I'm going with 19 for the age that Billy died. The drinking age in the US is 21. The mature rating will kick in at chapter 2.
"Okay, c'mon, let's do another take."
Spencer looked up in surprise at where his friend was enthusiastically tossing the gory severed foam head in the air—the star feature of his new movie 'Head Hunters versus Zombies (in Space)'.
"It's okay, bro," Spencer gave Billy a thumbs up. "I got a pretty good shot already. We can move on to the next scene."
"No way dude." Billy shook his head emphatically. "I know I can do better than that. It wasn't scary enough. I can make it brotastically better. Just give me another shot. I wasn't in the right mind set." Billy dropped the head and twisted his legs into a meditation position. The head continued to bob in the air, telepathically suspended while Billy chanted "Ooommm" with his eyes shut.
"Uh, Billy," said Spencer.
"Ooooommmm..."
"Billy," tried Spencer again.
"You can't interrupt a genius at work!" Billy cracked an eye open to glare at Spencer. He immediately closed it again and went back to chanting.
"Okaaaaay," said Spencer. "You just...do that. I'm gonna go film a different scene with Rajeev."
"No!" Billy bounced back into his former position, holding the fake head again. "I'm good, I'm good. Roll the camera Steven Broberg!"
Spencer sighed. "Okay, whatever, diva pants. Action."
He filmed the shot. Six more times.
"That's a wrap," he said, finally shutting the camera off again. "The scene is as scary as you could possibly imagine. You even scared me," he lied.
"I'm not sure, I think it could still be more awesome," worried Billy.
"No, it was perfect. You were totally perfect, bro," said Spencer. "What's the deal anyway? You don't usually obsess this much about your acting. You usually assume you're always perfect."
"I am always perfect," Billy quickly countered.
"Exactly," said Spencer, "That's exactly my point. I thought you used to finish most of your filming on your lunch breaks? Why are you making me do everything a hundred and fifty times for this movie?"
"This film has to be better than perfect," said Billy in a voice implying that that ought to be painfully obvious.
"Well not that I disagree, but why this one?"
Billy just shot Spencer a look that said 'really bro? You really can't figure that out?'
Spencer stared back blankly.
"It's May," said Billy dramatically. "Of, you know, your senior year." He waved his hands around for emphasis.
"...And that has to do with what, exactly?" asked Spencer.
"We're running out of time, Albert Bronstein!" said Billy. "We need to accelerate on your directing career like, warp speed, man! You need to get picked up by a studio like, yesterday!"
"Billy, chill out. I'm still in high school. My potential directing career hasn't exactly hit its expiration date yet."
"You're about to hit your high school expiration date though." Billy crossed his arms and scowled at Spencer, clearly disappointed that they weren't on the same page.
Something clicked in Spencer's head. "Oh," he said, figuring it out. "This is about college, isn't it?"
"Duh." Billy rolled his eyes.
"Hey, dude, we've already had this discussion," said Spencer. "I'm definitely going to college. I've already been accepted."
"You don't have to go if you get a job as a high paid prodigy director. There's still time to make that happen. Let's do another take of that scene with the floating head, okay? We've got this movie in the bag. You'll be money."
"Billy, no." Spencer sighed and rubbed his forehead. He didn't like having this repetitive conversation. Billy had been sporadically bringing it up for months now. It's not as if he liked the idea of going off to another state and leaving everyone behind any more than Billy did. Well, no, actually the idea of getting to move out from living with his parents and Jessica did fill him with pure unadulterated joy. He really couldn't wait, quite frankly. He just didn't like the idea of leaving Billy, which apparently seemed to be what Billy was expecting to happen. "I have to go to college. Even if I got professional recognition for one of my movies now, I still need to go. My movies will be even better if I get professional training."
"I didn't need professional training for my music career," huffed Billy. "I never went to college. I turned out just fine."
Spencer raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at Billy's state of hovering translucence. "Really?" he said sarcastically. "I think some people might disagree with you."
"I see how it is! You actually want to get rid of me!" Billy turned on the waterworks.
"No!" Spencer waved his arms in the air in a placating manner. "No no, of course not, you know that's not true, bro. I told you that you can come with if you really want!"
"And leave my fabulous mansion?" Billy stopped crying on cue. "No way, brorito. This star was not meant to live without luxury. I bet your dorm room doesn't even have a private pool."
"No," agreed Spencer, shaking his head. "I really suspect it doesn't."
"Then get that camera rolling," said Billy stubbornly. "We're going to make you a star."
"Whatever, dude." Spencer sighed and turned the camera back on.
While the movie did turn out fairly spectacular, a slew of directing job offers failed to manifest. Billy was suspiciously quiet on the topic as the new school year approached. It seemed strange that he'd given up complaining about Spencer moving out.
Spencer was in the middle of piling his boxes of things around the family car to drive to his new school.
"Spencer," said his dad, as he loaded some of Spencer's boxes into the car. "Are you sure you're not packing too much? I guess I could build an expansion to the car to get all this to fit if necessary, but I can't exactly enlarge your dorm room for you once we get there. Unless..." Hugh suddenly went glassy eyed and Spencer could guess that he was now plotting how he could in fact build an addition to the dorm room.
"I didn't pack that much," said Spencer, surprised by the question. "Just the things on the orientation checklist, and a few of my more awesome horror memorabilia." It had only been two boxes full of movie related stuff.
"Well, I guess I'm just surprised you packed this old Billy Joe Cobra logo blanket," said his dad, scratching his head. "With the limited space, I wouldn't have expected that to make the cut."
"I didn't pack that," said Spencer, eyeing the blanket in his dad's hands suspiciously.
"No, I did." Billy floated up through the roof of the car. "It's getting a bit tight in there bro," he said, rubbing his chin. "You don't need that box of books and pencils, right? Let's ditch that. My gear isn't all going to fit."
"Since when are you coming?" said Spencer in surprise.
"Since always," replied Billy. "As if you could function without me. You're my bro-kick. I think you might cease to exist without my awesome presence. Can't let that happen, dude."
Hugh thought Spencer was talking to him. "Well, I rather assumed you needed me to drive the car!" He scratched his head again in confusion. "Gosh son, I'm not that embarrassing am I?" He frowned, feelings clearly hurt.
"No, no," said Spencer quickly. "I wasn't talking to you dad! I was, uh, talking to the, uh…the blanket!"
"Oh," said Hugh. He gave Spencer a peculiar look but then shrugged and smiled. He was used to random confusing outbursts from his son. "Well, I'm sure we can make it fit if it's that important to you." He walked over and patted Spencer on the head.
"It's essential!" Billy announced.
"No it's not!" whispered Spencer.
"Excuse me?" said Hugh, not catching what Spencer had whispered to Billy, but hearing that something had been said.
"It. Is. Essential." Billy gritted out. "Unless you want to go without a blanket. You can give me yours instead."
"You. Don't. Need. One." Spencer replied, trying to match Billy's unwavering glare. "You're a—"
"Don't you go pulling the 'ghost card' on me, brosicle," snapped Billy. "I still have needs."
"Not as much as I do," retorted Spencer, forgetting to keep his voice down so his dad wouldn't hear. "And my dorm room is going to be really really small. All this stuff isn't going to fit."
"So you shouldn't have packed so much." Billy crossed his arms and gazed at Spencer coolly. "You don't really need three Godzilla figurines, now do you."
"They're limited editions!" said Spencer automatically. "All three are different! And too cool to only choose one! You don't need a fondue pot," he added, inspecting one of the boxes Billy had snuck into the back of the car. "My dorm room isn't even going to have a stove."
"Fine, I'll sacrifice the fondue pot." Billy threw his arms up in an exaggerated display of capitulation. "But I'm not bending on the smoothie machine."
"Oh for crying out loud," muttered Spencer. "Whatever bro, just whatever. You're going to get sick of living in a shoebox-sized room in about a week anyway. You'll just be carting it all back here again as soon as you can manage."
"Says you." Billy pouted.
"I do say," replied Spencer. "I know you."
"Then you should have known I'd be coming too and planned accordingly." Billy sank back into the car and pointedly gazed out the window in the opposite direction of Spencer.
"Ugh, he's crazy," muttered Spencer under his breath.
"What was that son?" asked Hugh, scratching his head. "Did you just say that you're…crazy?"
"No!" Spencer plastered a wide artificial smile across him face. "Of course not! What I said was, uh, that I'm crazy for college! Can't wait to get there! Let's get on the road!"
"Sure thing!" Luckily his dad's default setting was chipper. It was easy to distract him. Spencer and Hugh wedged themselves into the overly packed car and pulled onto the road.
"Um, so I guess this is my room," said Spencer, inspecting the name card taped on the door. He nervously looked inside. It appeared that his roommate had arrived before him, but wasn't currently occupying it. The bed on one side of the room already had sheets on it (crisp, white, institutional.) A single poster was taped on the wall of the periodic table of elements. There was a stack of books on one desk, next to a very large computer. "Maybe he's not done unpacking?" He said, surveying the sparseness of the room.
"Looks like a nerd," snorted Billy, floating around the room and making distasteful faces at the small handful of possessions left on display.
"Just be glad he's not a hoarder. Like some people," said Spencer. He started unpacking his own things. The once empty side of the room quickly turned into a cluttered mess.
"Here, I'll help," announced Billy. He pulled a permanent marker apparently out of nowhere and began drawing a line down the center of the room.
"Hey, stop!" cried Spencer. "What are you doing? You can't just draw on the floor! You're going to get me in trouble!"
"This is the bro line," said Billy. "Only bros on this side." He pointed towards Spencer's bed. "Chuckleheads over there." He pointed at the mysterious roommate's side. "Trust me, you'll thank me for this later."
"It doesn't work that way," sighed Spencer.
"Bro side," Billy just repeated with a serious nod.
"More like the nutso side," muttered Spencer. He finished unpacking though without arguing more with Billy. Not even when Billy insisted on hanging up a framed picture of himself right over Spencer's desk. Well, he didn't exactly argue. He did mumble, "Way to ensure I never get a girlfriend," but didn't outright stop Billy from putting it up.
"Stop complaining, bromeo, this is girlfriend bait," retorted Billy. He smiled at the picture and pretended to shoot at it with finger pistols. Spencer just shook his head.
"So we're all set. Wanna watch a movie while we wait for the missing roommate?" asked Spencer.
"Do I ever!" Billy floated down to rest next to Spencer on the bed. He'd pulled out his laptop and a binder full of DVDs.
"Let's watch Going Ape!"
"Let's not," said Spencer. "I was thinking more along the lines of Revenge of The Witch with the Melted Face."
Billy didn't outright object. He just wound all of his limbs around Spencer like a boa constrictor and buried his head in Spencer's shirt. "Tell me when it's over," he whimpered.
They compromised and watched a cheesy comedy. They'd both seem it before and took turns saying the lines before the actors. Billy started jumping up and down on the bed when one of his hit singles played in the background of a mall scene. Spencer was enjoying himself enough that he almost forgot how nervous he was about meeting his new roommate. About two thirds of the way through the movie the door creaked open.
Spencer paused the movie and sat up alertly, watching the opening door. A short guy in a white lab coat stepped inside. His glasses glinted theatrically from the fluorescent overhead.
"Wow, he walked right out of a stereotype." Billy was pointing and laughing. "Someone better call the nerd patrol."
Spencer jabbed Billy with his elbow.
"Hi!" he said, automatically acting overly friendly to counteract Billy's rudeness, even though there was no way his roommate possibly could have heard him. "I'm Spencer! Spencer Wright! Your, uh, new roomie!"
"Stephan," said the roommate. He didn't offer a last name.
"Hi Steven," said Spencer, holding out his hand.
"It's Stephan." Spencer's offered handshake went ignored.
"Oh, right. That's what I meant," said Spencer awkwardly. "Hi Stephan."
"It's Stephan," imitated Billy, prancing around the roommate mockingly. "That's Stephan with a 'phan.' Full name, Stephan Von Stickupmyass. The third." He mimed pushing glasses up his nose and then made a face at Spencer.
Spencer glared at him and then counted to three in his head. He was determined not to react to Billy's antics. He wanted to make a good first impression seeing as he'd be stuck living with this guy for a year. That year could turn out to be hell if they got off on the wrong foot.
"We, um, I mean I was watching a movie," Spencer finally said, once he was sure he wouldn't accidently laugh (because much as he wanted to disapprove, Billy was kind of cracking him up in spite of himself.) "I'm really into movies, you know. They're my thing. Want to join me?"
"No time, I'm very busy," said Stephan. He shuffled over to his own computer and turned his back to Spencer, furiously typing away. Spencer glanced in his direction, expecting to see a chat window up, or an email layout, considering all the typing. Instead the screen was completely blue and covered in rapidly moving letters and numbers. It made no sense at all to Spencer. He shrugged, brushing it off. Okay, so his roommate was apparently weird. Lots of people assumed that he himself was weird, so he wasn't going to stress about it.
Billy was less Zen about the situation.
"Wow, you got Nerdy McNerdster for your roomie," Billy snickered, settling down next to Spencer again. "Good thing you also got the coolest bromate in town to cancel out the deficit."
"Stop it," muttered Spencer. "Don't make this difficult. I want to get along with him." Spencer shut his eyes in frustration, realizing he'd already slipped up and 'talked to himself' in the roommate's presence. He'd meant to at least make it a few days before doing that, so he could make a decent impression before seeming too crazy. He'd hoped that if he could get Stephan to like him first he might be inclined to ignore him when he acted weird. So much for that. Spencer nervously looked over at his roommate's desk. There was no sign that Stephan had even heard him. He continued to type obsessively.
"Oh you stop it," Billy countered. "You know you'd be losing your mind right now without my hilarious commentary. Sorry bro, but that dude's creepy. You need me here."
Spencer just shrugged, but inside he secretly agreed with Billy.
Spencer had hoped that it had just been an awkward first meeting, and eventually his roommate would warm up to him, and maybe finally talk a little. His hopes did not pan out. As the days slid by, Stephan only became quieter and more absorbed in the various indecipherable projects he was always engaged in. The sparseness of his side of the room gradually declined, but instead of filling the empty space with normal things (entertainment equipment, CDs, dirty clothes, werewolf statues—okay so that last one was only normal for Spencer,) Stephan's side of the room became crowded with beakers filled with odd colored liquids, and various machines with blinking lights. Spencer and Billy nicknamed him "Mad Scientist Steve" (MSS for short) and Spencer stopped even trying to impress him with how "normal" he was. After several slip ups of talking to Billy in front of MSS, Spencer concluded that Stephan either didn't care that his roommate talked to himself, or was too distracted with his own projects to even notice. So Spencer went back to talking to Billy without care like usual, and was rather grateful for the company, because without Billy Spencer would have felt like he was actually living alone.
He also began filming Stephan. His roommate provided an almost endless stream of footage that was almost too perfect for a horror movie for Spencer to hope for. He would have felt bad about what he was doing, had he been sly about it, but he wasn't. He blatantly turned his camera on and zoomed in on his roommate in full view and Stephan never asked him to stop, so Spencer assumed he didn't care. He promised himself he'd get him to sign a model release form if he ever actually finished a movie using the footage, anyway.
Soon classes got intense and Spencer was more and more occupied with homework. He also made more and more new friends. Unlike with Stephan, Spencer was more careful about not talking to Billy in front of the other people at school. Billy didn't like this, but hey, what was Spencer supposed to do? He didn't have an endless supply of Billy gear to hand out to every person he met so they could all see him. He had to save that kind of thing for really important friends, and he still hadn't been at college long enough to sort out whom those people might be. And in the meantime he needed to be at least a little bit functional in society without seeming like he heard voices all the time.
"Bored," said Billy, floating around Spencer's head impatiently as he worked on an essay. "Boooorrrred. So. Bored. Dying. Dying of boredom."
"No you're not," muttered Spencer, trying to ignore him.
"Yes I am. Dying of boredom. Dyyyying. Fading away. This is bromicide!"
"You can't die of boredom, you're already—oh never mind." Spencer rolled his eyes and tossed a comic book to Billy.
"Already read that one." Billy threw it back, purposely smacking him in the head with it.
"So find a different one!" said Spencer. "Seriously, dude, I need to concentrate. This is important."
"What's it on?" asked Billy, still floating in and out of Spencer's way. "You should write your essay on me. I could tell you what to say. You'd be done in no time with a guaranteed A plus plus."
"Transitional film shots and how their technique enhances the emotional tone of the movie," said Spencer.
"Boring!" exclaimed Billy dramatically.
"No, it's not boring!" said Spencer in exasperation. "I'm really interested in this! This is relevant to my directing career!"
"You're already perfect at directing," muttered Billy. "Let's go out for ice cream. They have double chocolate peanut butter flavor in the cafeteria."
"Later," said Spencer, waving Billy away. "I need to finish this. It's due tomorrow. I still have five pages to write."
"You're killing me!" said Billy, marching out of the room by going straight through a wall. He popped his head back through to add, "You'll be sorry when I'm gone!"
"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Spencer, returning his attention to his computer screen. "I'm sure I will."
The truth is, Spencer was. Billy did not come back for three days. Spencer hadn't thought his friend had been serious, but when he didn't show up by dinnertime Spencer got a little worried. When the room was still devoid of glowing blue ectoplasm in the morning, Spencer got a lot worried. He kept reminding himself that Billy was just throwing a tantrum but at the back of his mind he kept worrying that maybe something had happened to him. Billy did have enemies, after all. Had he been captured? Did Sam Hoover or Madame X get him? Did something even more terrible that he couldn't even imagine happen? By the time Billy finally strolled back into the room at the end of the week, looking completely smug, Spencer was too relieved to stay mad at him. They went out for ice cream and Spencer apologized for ignoring him so much. Deep down he felt he shouldn't have to, he was at college after all, and Billy knew that his schoolwork was extremely important…but he was too glad to have his friend back to stop himself. He couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for his bro too; he knew it really must be painfully boring to be living in such a small space with your only companion swamped with work all the time. He was actually surprised that Billy had lasted there as long as he had already.
"Sorry bro," sighed Spencer. "I was a toolbag."
"The Cobra forgives you." Billy shoved a humongous spoonful of double chocolate peanut butter ice cream into his mouth. "I can't stay mad when you bribe me with such brolicious collateral."
Spencer smiled. Things almost felt back to normal for a moment. He'd really missed Billy. It was hard to believe he'd actually entertained the idea of leaving him behind when he came to college. He felt like he was losing his mind in only three days of solitude, it would have sucked big time to try lasting an entire school year without him. How did normal people manage, not having a best bro glued to their side 24/7? It seemed insufferably lonely. He and Billy had been together for years now, and they'd never gone this long apart before. It was weird.
"So," said Spencer, not sure what to say now that he'd apologized.
"Finish your stupid paper?" asked Billy good-naturedly.
"Yeah," said Spencer. "Already handed it in."
"Brodacious!" said Billy. "Let's go downtown! We can get you a rad new outfit and cruise for honeys!" He nudged Spencer suggestively. "Or find a party! I know there must be a sick shindig going down somewhere. I've always wanted to trash a frat house."
"Uh, dude, I can't," said Spencer. "I have another paper to write. And several projects. This—well this is college, you know? It has more work than high school. The assignments are just going to keep coming like this."
"You have more work?" asked Billy in dismay.
"Well..yes," Spencer put his hands up in a helpless gesture. "You knew I would. It can't really be helped. I have to."
"Well, what're they on, I'll totally help you bro." Billy momentarily morphed into a caricature of a professor and stroked a blue goatee.
Spencer laughed, and then turned apologetic. "I don't think any of my topics were things you covered on tour."
Billy sighed. "I'm not digging this whole 'college' thing," he complained. "I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal about it. It's lametown."
"I'm learning a lot," explained Spencer. "And some of the people here are pretty cool."
"Not as cool as me," muttered Billy.
"Well, no," Spencer conceded. "You got me there." He watched Billy sulk into his ice cream and felt progressively guiltier for trapping him here. He finally came to a difficult decision.
"Do you want to go home?" asked Spencer after a long silence.
"With you?" asked Billy.
"No, not with me. I can't go home. But I could come visit a lot on weekends."
"You're trying to ditch me?" Billy looked horrified.
"No!" Spencer immediately backtracked. "No, of course not. It's just this isn't very fun for you. I thought maybe you'd be happier back home where you can chill in the mansion and use the pool and play video games all the time and stuff. That's all."
"And I'm supposed to play video games with myself?" asked Billy pointedly.
"Uh…" Spencer didn't have a good answer to that.
"No way dude. Not happening. I'm here for the long haul."
"I'm going to have a lot more work. All year. The next four years," Spencer reminded him.
"And what would you do if I left? You need a bro to keep an eye on you so your freaky roommate doesn't dissect you in your sleep."
Spencer raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn't something that had ever occurred to him. Now he had a fabulously unpleasant image to haunt him every time he caught a glance of Stephan. Thanks Billy.
"You didn't have a problem taking your chances with that the past three days," Spencer pointed out.
"I wasn't very far away," Billy replied vaguely. "I would have heard you screaming."
"Great," muttered Spencer. "Just great."
Billy's foreboding words were apparently prophetic. Not a week went by before Spencer was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of Billy screaming.
He almost brushed it off, assuming that Billy was having a nightmare about getting second place in an awards show or something. But he opened his eyes to check just in case.
He was not prepared for what he saw.
MSS was standing over his bed with a wide mouth jar and something that looked like a turkey baster. Billy was floating in midair above Spencer, thrashing and trying to get away as MSS attempted to siphon off some of his ectoplasm.
"Get him off me, get him off me!" shrieked Billy.
"Stop!" Spencer sat up like a shot, horrified. "What are you doing?!"
"Collecting a specimen," said MSS calmly. "Ectoplasm is very hard to come by."
"He's not a specimen!" Spencer smacked the turkey baster thingy out of Stephan's hand. "He's a person and—hey wait. You can see Billy?"
Billy zoomed away and planted himself behind Spencer, using him like a shield.
"But of course," said MSS with no inflection.
"How?" asked Spencer. His eyes darted across Stephan's body. It was very undecorated; Spencer was pretty sure that hideously unfashionable lab coat was not ever part of Billy's wardrobe.
"Simple." MSS taped on his glasses. "Ghost detection film—new invention. I made it the first week of school to apply to my lenses after observing your erratic behavior. After some careful psychological evaluation I ruled out dissociative identity or schizophrenia as the cause. I wrote an algorithm to analyze your bizarre tendencies and it calculated that the most probable scenario was that you were being haunted. I reacted accordingly."
"Oh you…noticed…that." Spencer felt mildly embarrassed, which was weird, because he knew he should still be feeling outrageously infuriated.
"I notice everything." There was a menacing vibe to Stephan's declaration.
"Uh…right. Okay then."
"I am going to proceed with my sample collection." MSS bent down and retrieved the thing that Spencer was beginning to suspect with more and more certainly wasn't just a device that looked like a turkey baster. It probably actually was a turkey baster.
"No," said Spencer, throwing his arms out to guard Billy. "You are not going anywhere near him! Billy's not a sample! He's a person. You just admitted you can see him so you know that already!"
"Ex-person," corrected MSS dispassionately.
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK." Billy sprang out from behind Spencer and swung a fist at MSS. Stephan took the opportunity to grab a handful of glowing blue goo and carefully scrape it into his collection jar.
"Ah!" Billy shook his arm as if Spencer's roommate had given him cooties. "Stop it! This is a major violation, creepo! I just got molested by Nerdius Maximus!"
"Ectoplasm is an invaluable resource," said MSS, gazing into his jar attentively. He tapped on the glass and watched the luminescent contents quiver. "The applications to scientific advancement are phenomenal."
"I don't care if they're bronominal!" snapped Billy. "That's my body you're trying to harvest!"
"Tish tosh, I can make you a new one," said MSS with a flippant wave of his hand.
"Wait, what?" Billy and Spencer both snapped their gaze directly to MSS's deadpan expression.
"I said I can make you a new one," repeated Stephan.
"What, like, a new...ghost body?" asked Billy incredulously.
"Well, if that's what you would prefer," said MSS. "I was rather expecting you to desire one of the more carnal variety."
"Wait wait wait wait," said Billy, even more incredulously. "Stop the presses. I'm hearing you wrong. That sounded like you were trying to claim you could make me alive again."
"There is nothing wrong with your hearing," sniffed MSS.
Billy and Spencer exchanged a very skeptical glance.
"You're joking," accused Billy. "That's an uncool topic to josh about. Way, way uncool, dude."
"I never joke."
"Uh, sorry for being a doubter," Spencer put his hands up defensively, "but that's kinda a hard claim to believe."
"I would require a DNA sample," said MSS seriously, ticking it off on his fingers. "If you can provide that, I have the facilities to initiate a cloning sequence. It would be a small matter to fuse the disembodied consciousness with the new animated form. I've done it before: 68% success rate. I ask only to be allowed to collect a sufficient sampling of fresh ectoplasm before the transfer."
"If you can do all that…." asked Spencer, disbelievingly. "What the heck are you doing hanging around college freshmen? Shouldn't you be like…teaching the classes instead of going to school?"
"Witness protection program," said MSS darkly. "You don't want to know the details."
"Ah…okay…then…."
"Do we have an agreement?"
"Uh…."
Spencer and Billy exchanged another uncomfortable glance. Spencer could tell that Billy was really being tempted. He could also tell that Billy didn't really believe MSS any more than he did. His claims were just impossible…right?
"We need a few days to think it over," said Spencer finally. "No touching Billy or his ectoplasm in the meantime."
MSS just grunted and went back to the workstation that had formally been a college dorm bed. The jarful of meager ectoplasm sample was whisked away to some hidden stash.
"Creepy," mumbled Billy as the two of them cautiously went back to bed. "Creepy McCreepster over there."
"Super creepy," whispered Spencer back. "You were totally right, he needs supervision."
"He couldn't be telling the truth…right, bro?" There was a painfully hopeful tone to Billy's question.
"I don't know dude," Spencer mumbled back. "I really seriously don't know."
Spencer didn't sleep very well the next few nights. He was too worried that if he let his guard down, Billy would vanish in the middle of the night, having fallen victim to some bizarre experiment. Billy didn't sleep at all, for the same reason. But also in addition he couldn't stop thinking about Stephan's proposal.
He could be alive again.
With a real, solid body. One that was solid all the time, and not just when he concentrated really hard on keeping his shape together.
People would be able to see him again.
And hear him.
Everyone, not just a handful.
He could get his old life back.
He could get back everything.
EVERYTHING.
Sure, he didn't really think that it would work. He was of the opinion that Mad Scientist Steve was, well, madder than a march hare. But. But could he really resist trying? If there was even the tiniest chance it might work? MSS had successfully invented a way to see him, hadn't he? He clearly wasn't completely lying about his scientific skill. Wasn't the potential reward greater than the risk?
Hey, what was the risk anyway? They'd forgotten to ask.
That...might be kind of a biggie.
He looked nervously at Spencer, who he knew was pretending to be asleep, but probably actually wasn't. He could always tell when Spencer was actually sleeping or not; he spent a lot of time observing him. Spencer was the one good thing about not having his old life anymore—although now he seemed to be getting offered a way to have both.
Surely that was too good to be true?
"Hey bro," Billy whispered, poking Spencer. Spencer's eyes immediately flicked open. He hadn't been asleep, of course.
"What?"
"I think...I think I want to try it." Billy didn't need to explain what 'it' was.
"Are you sure?" asked Spencer.
"I...think so?"
"Oh. O-okay." Spencer frowned.
"Don't try to look happy for me or anything," muttered Billy. "Here I was planning on giving you free backstage passes for life when it was over."
Spencer smiled weakly. "Sorry Billy," he mumbled. "It's not that—I mean, it's just...I'm concerned."
"Yeah."
"What if it doesn't work?" continued Spencer. "What if he kills you? I mean kills you kills you. As in, you're not even a ghost anymore? What if he just sucks away all your ectoplasm until there's nothing left?"
"But what if it does work?" countered Billy.
"Is that really worth the gamble?"
If it were possible for an already washed out, translucent being to look paler than usual, Billy looked pale. "Maybe," he said unconfidently.
"It's not..." Spencer stalled, unsure whether he should finish saying what he was thinking. He decided that if there was ever a time for complete honesty, now was probably it. "I'm not sure the risk is worth it to me," he confessed.
"You're not the one stuck as a ghost," said Billy.
"I know."
"I really really miss not being a ghost," said Billy.
"Yeah, I know, I can tell," said Spencer.
"Think how much fun we could have together if I wasn't a ghost anymore."
Think how depressed I'll be if you vanish. Spencer didn't voice that thought aloud, it wasn't fair to hold Billy back for his own selfish reasons. "It would be pretty rad, bro," he said instead.
"Yeah, I think I'm going to go for it," said Billy, attempting confidence in the declaration.
"Okay," said Spencer, also trying to muster some forced cheerfulness. "We'll visit mom and dad this weekend and see if we can dig up some DNA."
"This'll be great," repeated Billy, clearly trying to convince himself as much as Spencer.
"Yeah." Spencer gave him a thumbs up in the darkness. "I'm excited for you, man."
Finding some of Billy's DNA was even easier than Spencer had expected. Nothing of the deceased pop star's belongings had been removed from the estate before The Wrights moved in. And Mr. and Mrs. Wright were not exactly cleaning freaks; opting to just shove anything they weren't interested in into closets rather than systematically purging the excess. In very little time Spencer managed to locate an old toothbrush, several hairbrushes, and a bloodstained sombrero. Billy insisted that Spencer did not want to hear the story behind the bloodstains.
They gathered the loot up and brought it back to Stephan. He inspected the items, and chose one of the hairbrushes: using tweezers to carefully remove several jet-black hairs from where they'd been enmeshed in nylon bristles. He dropped the hairs into a flask and covered it.
"This should be sufficient," he said simply.
"Now what?" said Billy anxiously. "When do you do the uh...operation?"
Stephan held up a hand. "Patience. I cannot produce a fully-grown clone overnight. I will need time to properly cultivate the corporeal receptacle."
Spencer really did not like the sound of the word "receptacle" coming from MSS. It sounded way too much like a line of dialogue he'd himself written in a script several years ago. Not one of his better scripts, if he were honest.
Stephan looked at his watch. It was one of those really complicated watches that had about a million additional features aside from telling time. "I predict I could have it ready after winter break," he concluded.
"Well, that's not that far off," said Spencer.
"Okay dude," said Billy holding out his hand to Stephan. "We're going to do this."
Stephan took Billy's hand and shook it with unnecessary vigor, squeezing a little too firmly as he slid his fingers off. A very noticeable trail of ectoplasm remained in his grip as he extracted his hand. He shuffled off, allegedly to deposit his winnings in the glowing collection jar.
"I wish I had a better feeling about this," muttered Spencer, turning to give Billy a concerned look.
"No kidding duder," said Billy.
The winter holidays came fast. The second half of fall semester hadn't been much different than the first, aside from the overhanging atmosphere of excitement mixed with dread. Spencer still didn't sleep all that great, because Stephan had been promised his owed ectoplasm at the time of the procedure, but he didn't really trust his roommate not to try to collect early. In spite of his chronic sleep deprivation though, Spencer did fairly well in his classes and managed to keep up with all of his assignments. He even managed to fit in some socializing and parties, although he was finding he had less of a desire to hang out with people other than Billy since after what they now secretly referred to as "The psycho kleptomaniac nerd incident."
What if the procedure did go horribly horribly wrong? What if Spencer only had a finite number of hours left to spend with his best friend? Were that the case, he didn't want to waste even a minute of that limited time. Billy and Spencer became even more inseparable than they had been before.
In what felt like no time at all they found themselves anxiously standing (or floating as the case may be) in Stephan's half of the room, waiting for an answer.
"It is ready," said Stephan shortly.
"It? Is that really an appropriate pronoun?" Complained Billy. "That's me you're talking about there. Of course, I'm not in 'me' yet, so maybe it really is an 'it,' and not a 'me'…. It's kinda trippy, you know dude?" He was nervously babbling.
"The receptacle is complete," corrected MSS.
"I'm not really comfortable with that noun either," Billy continued to complain. But they followed Stephan out of the dorm and down into the basement of the science department without further objection.
Spencer looked around, confused at their surroundings. The room was mostly filled with rolling metal racks filled with dingy old textbooks. There were a lot of boxes full of empty beakers and broken microscopes. He definitely couldn't make out any sign of a frankenbilly.
Stephan pulled out a key and shoved one of the rolling racks away from an unmarked door. It cracked open to reveal an eerie glow emanating from the middle of a darkened room. He then pressed a switch and fluorescent lighting flickered on, bathing the small room in a harsh white glare. There was a large tank in one corner, filled with a watery pink jelly-like substance, but otherwise empty. A stainless steel table spanned the middle of the room. There was a complicated machine sitting next to it, with whirling dials and lit up toggles. A tube spilled out of the machine and disappeared under a white sheet that was obscuring a large form on the table.
"I should have brought my video camera," mumbled Spencer under his breath.
"Dude, have some respect, bro!" mumbled Billy back. "This is kinda personal."
"This looks kinda dangerous, if you ask me," replied Spencer. He was gripped with the sudden urge to grab Billy and beg him to change his mind and not go through with it. MSS's glasses were doing that creepy glinting thing again that reminded him of super-villains. It was probably just the whirling dial of the strange machine reflecting off them, but it still gave Spencer the heebie jeebies.
Stephan strode over to the table and folded the sheet back.
"Wow it looks just like wax Billy," said Spencer without even stopping to think.
"It looks just like real Billy," corrected Billy. "Holy brotato, he actually did it. That's totally me."
"It is you," said Stephan in a matter of fact voice.
Billy tentatively floated over to the table. He reached out and tried to poke at himself. His finger slid right through the unresponsive body just as if it were any other object. He was able to pull his hand right back out again with no resistance. "This brings back baaaaaad memories," he muttered, voice so low Spencer almost didn't hear him. He poked several more times with the same results.
"So what now?" Billy asked. "I don't seem to be sticking. I mean, I guess I could just possess it, but that's not really the same as actually being it, if you know what I mean."
"Of course not," replied MSS. "Your incorporeal essence must be processed through this ectenic force distilling apparatus," explained the (almost certainly mad) scientist of a roommate, thumping his hand against the nefarious looking machine.
"Excuse me?" Spencer's voice accidently cracked, he was so alarmed. "Did you just say you're going to 'process' Billy?"
"There are unfortunate connotations to my choice in vocabulary, but alas, the description was accurate."
"No way. Billy, I'm vetoing this. I'm not letting you get turned into an ectoplasm milkshake. Not happening." He grabbed at Billy's wrist, and for a moment he got a good grip. But when he tried to yank his friend away the wrist dissolved through his grip and Billy remained standing next to the table.
"Billy!" he said more urgently. "You're not seriously going to let him do that to you are you?"
Billy didn't respond. His eyes were still transfixed on his seemingly lifeless clone. There was a weird twisted half smile to his mouth. "I almost forgot how good looking I was," he said to himself.
"Of course you didn't!" exclaimed Spencer, trying to grab him again with no more success. "You sleep under a blanket with your own face printed on it! You wouldn't forget in a hundred years. Lets get out of here."
"No," said Billy stubbornly.
"Billy!" implored Spencer.
"Spencer," hissed Billy.
That stopped Spencer in his tracks. He couldn't even remember the last time Billy had actually used his real name. He almost only ever addressed Spencer with various incarnations of "dude" and "bro-isms." The overly familiar name sounded weird and foreign in his best friend's voice.
They engaged in a silent standstill for several moments.
"I don't have all day," muttered Mad Scientist Steve.
"See, now he's going to be rushing when he does it," complained Spencer. "This seriously isn't safe, dude." He turned to MSS. "Do you have like, a safety contract or something we could make you sign?"
"I make no guarantees," replied MSS. "My techniques are not sanctioned by enforceable law."
"This is such a bad idea!" he practically yelled at Billy. "Do you know how many movies like this I've watched, bro? A helluva lot! And not a single one of them ends well. Not a single one!"
"None of the movies you watch end well," Billy pointed out calmly. "If they did you wouldn't watch them."
"That's besides the point!"
"Oh." Billy suddenly turned thoughtful. He finally ripped his gaze away from his waiting body and looked Spencer in the eye. "Your movies."
"What about my movies?"
"If I stop being a ghost, who'll help you with your special effects?"
"That's what you're finally worried about?" asked Spencer incredulously. "Seriously? You don't even blink when the mad scientist mentions treating you like ground hamburger, but you're worried about my movie career?"
Stephan coughed at the rude description of him, but Spencer and Billy ignored him.
"I'm not worried about the machine," said Billy. "I'm not very destructible in this form. But my help with your movies is sort of what gives them their edge. You've got to admit that, bro."
"I'm perfectly competent enough to make awesome movies without supernatural assistance!" Spencer crossed his arms. "Jesus, here I am panicking over your wellbeing, and you find the time to insult my talent. Why am I even bothering?"
"I'm not insulting your talent!" retorted Billy. "I was trying for once to think of someone other than myself! Why am I even bothering?!"
"So don't bother," snapped Spencer. "Turn yourself into a Billy smoothie for all I care!"
"I will!" yelled Billy back at him. He briskly spun around and held out his wrists towards Stephan. "Okay chief. Do your thing."
In what seemed like a second (a very long, dramatic second,) Stephan whipped out a device that looked an awful lot like Sam Hoover's ghost containment system.
"Billy, no!" screamed Spencer in utter panic. It had been a trick, his mind raced. All of this had just been an elaborate trick—
Stephan sucked Billy into the gun and then turned around and inserted the tip of the ghost catcher into the machine. He pulled the trigger again, injecting Billy into the whirling device.
Spencer screamed again. He couldn't help it, he was absolutely certain he was watching Billy die in the most horrible way possible.
He couldn't look.
He couldn't not look.
He clamped his hand over his eyes, only to crack his fingers apart and peer through the gap. The contents of the machine were a glowing blue blur.
WhyDidILetHimDoItWhyDidn'tIStopHimWhyIsThisHappeningThisCan'tBeHappeningI'llNeverForgiveMyself—
Stephan pressed on a switch on the machine. A bag hanging out of the side began to inflate with ectoplasm.
He's like a ghost vampire, thought Spencer, glaring darkly at his roommate. He goes around sucking the life force out of ghosts. I'll never forgive him.
The fact that that might make an excellent movie premise never even crossed Spencer's mind spoke volumes for how upset he was.
Stephan pressed a button and the machine stopped blinking and spinning. As the whirling slowed to a standstill it revealed that its internal contents were empty; all that Spencer could see remaining of Billy was the bag of blue sludge clipped to the side.
He walked over to the table, filled with dread. Billy's body was still completely motionless. Or at least, visibly motionless. Spencer gingerly rested his hand on the exposed chest and felt the slightest movement of breathing. It might have been doing that all along, though. There was no indication of consciousness.
"Bro?" he asked. The utter hopelessness in his voice was apparent even to himself.
Spencer got no reaction. He felt his own chest tightening up. He was pretty sure he was going to cry, which was something he hadn't done since his pet hamster had died in second grade; he'd promised himself back then he never would again. His steady diet of horror movies had initially started as a way to toughen himself up, before he'd gotten genuinely addicted to them.
He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to keep the meltdown he felt coming on in check.
The people who freak out are never the ones that live through to the end of the movie, he reminded himself. I can't cry in front of my evil roommate. He just slaughtered my best bro for the sake of a bag full of cosmic goo. I can't let him get away with that. I can't call the police. Just stay calm. Breathe and pretend you're okay. I have to get through this so I can avenge Billy.
Reminding himself to 'stay calm' just brought on a mental image of Billy doing one of his ridiculous meditation routines, and the memory was too much for him to handle. He felt his fingers grow wet as he ground them against his eyes. The other hand, still resting on Billy began to tremble.
Spencer jumped as he felt fingers close around his shaking hand.
"I'm so hot even you can't keep your mitts off me, eh brojangles?"