House

Chapter 1

Summary: Tag to Sanctuary in Season 1. After Abbie and Crane's adventure in a real haunted house last night, Abbie's nerves a bit on edge. Now, the morning after Jenny's surprisingly successful Thanksgiving celebration, is something sinister going on at Abbie's house?

A/N: I've been away from the Sleepy Hollow fandom for a while, but Team Witness has a special place in my heart and now I've started down the rabbit hole of re-writing an old fanfic…The story is the same, but the writing is a bit better now. Only chapter one so far.

I hope you like it! (Again!)

….

Abbie Mills blinked and rubbed her eyes. A sound had pulled her from sleep, but now it was gone. She stretched her legs out and lay still, listening to see if it came again, whatever it was.

It was the day after Thanksgiving and, judging by light filtering its way around the edges of the curtain, probably midmorning.

"Ohh…" she sighed, rubbing her temples.

After some persistent nagging, she finally got Crane to come with her to the little house at the end of a sleepy lane about twenty minutes or so from the precinct. Jenny was setting the places for her impromptu turkey dinner when they stepped through the door.

Ichabod managed to have a good time, despite earlier melancholy. He kept insisting that everyone drink more rum, coming up with more and more elaborate toasts, until he finally passed out on the couch.

Abbie carefully draped a blanket over him after Captain Irving left and Jenny went off to bed.

Ichabod looked up at her blearily and mumbled, "Ab…you're good friend…" before falling completely asleep.

Now Abbie heard an eerie, soft creaking sound and shivered. It was probably the tree branches outside brushing against the window. I'd better go check on Crane.

Abbie knew from experience that it was always tough to get bad news about your family, especially if it was only an incomplete story and there was no way to know quite how bad it might really be. That's why she'd been so determined not to leave Ichabod alone last night.

She put on some socks and shuffled out of her room. Crane was probably still asleep, so she decided to make some coffee, her go-to cure for hangovers. Or, really, anything.

There was a yellow post-it on Jenny's door. It read, "Gone to Starbucks, back later –J" Apparently she had the same idea.

That was considerate. Jenny usually came and went as she wished and Abbie frequently had no idea where she was.

Abbie walked into the living room.

Sure enough, Ichabod was sound asleep on the couch, head resting on a bent arm, the blanket pulled tight around him.

Stepping into the kitchen, she saw that the clock on the coffee maker read 5:01. The oven clock said 5:05. Funny, I thought I reset all the clocks after the power outage a few days ago.

She started the coffee maker and went back into her room, picking up her phone from the night stand to check the time.

'5:04 PM'

"What?" Abbie said aloud in disbelief, "There's no way I slept that long."

There it was again, that sound of branches tapping and scraping across her bedroom window.

Abbie froze, eyes wide. There was no tree by that window!

She forced herself to take a deep breath. There is no need to overreact to every creepy noise I hear. So, I had a little more rum than I remembered and slept in? That doesn't mean anything is wrong.

Abbie resolutely reached out and whipped the curtain away from the window next to her bed and peered out.

There was nothing out of the ordinary. The sun was starting to go down and a thick fog had settled over the neighborhood, which was not unusual this time of year. Her house backed up to a small tributary that spread out and ran into the bay, so she always got the weather coming in off the water.

She leaned closer, nose touching the cool glass, and peered more closely. The fog was so heavy that she could barely make out the solitary lamp post at the edge of the yard. It looked like a thick vine had grown up around the post. Was that there before?

Suddenly she glimpsed a shadowy figure moving slowly, disjointedly, but she blinked and it was gone, the yard empty but for the shifting fog.

Abbie jerked back from the window, eyes wide. An icy jolt of fear shot through her.

"Crane!" she called in an almost-yell.

There is no need to panic yet, her mind rationalized. It could easily be a neighborhood kid out there running around, but if Abbie had learned anything these past few weeks it was to trust her instincts. She had a very bad feeling about this.

She ran back into the living room.

"Crane!"

He didn't move, still asleep.

"Wake up!" Abbie shook his shoulder none too gently, "You need to wake up now! Something is wrong!"

Ichabod slowly opened his eyes, struggling to focus on his surroundings. Abbie helped him by yanking off his blanket, letting it fall to the floor.

This was certainly not how she wanted to wake him. The plan was to wake him up with a lighthearted "Good morning, sleepyhead!" and a hot mug of coffee, some aspirin for his hangover, maybe brush his hair out of his face as she said it, ...uh, maybe not that last bit!

Ichabod groaned at the rude awakening. Cold without his blanket, he had no choice but to sit up, swinging his stiff legs over the side of the couch. He looked up into Abbie's concerned face.

"Crane, something is going on! I heard something outside my window," she said, her rushing words betraying her disquiet.

She frowned and added, "When you took the axe to that tree monster, back at your buddy Lachlan's house, are you absolutely sure that you killed it?"

That woke him up. Ichabod stood and looked her intently in the eye.

"I assure you, I lodged the axe deep in its head. The demon fell down and moved no more," he recounted, saying with conviction, "I killed it."

"Yes, but how do you know it was completely dead?" Abbie countered, "You cut off the horseman's head and that only pissed him off more! What if -"

Ichabod put his hands on her shoulders, cutting her off, "Lieutenant…" his expression softened, "Abbie, we defeated Moloch's threat, it's over."

She shook her head but he continued, "Please set your worries aside. It's only a nightmare. I have them too. It will pass."

The last thing she needed to think about right now was Crane tossing in his sleep, tormented by images of his broken family, snatched away from him by dark forces.

"No!" Abbie said a little more forcefully than before, "This is not a nightmare. There is something strange moving outside. And it's not even night! It's already five PM."

"What do you mean?" Ichabod asked in confusion, his arms falling to his sides.

"I thought it was morning, but we've practically slept the whole day," Abbie explained.

Ichabod sank back onto the couch, thinking. "I feel as if I just lay down to sleep…though my memory is rather hazy, no doubt courtesy of my favorite beverage…" he trailed off.

Abbie inhaled sharply, "Jenny!" If she left for Starbucks this morning, where is my sister now?

She pushed open Jenny's bedroom door. The room was empty. So was the bathroom. Next Abbie opened the door that connected to the garage. It was empty as well.

"Yep, she stole my car. Again." At least she closed the garage door this time.

Ichabod sat hunched over with his head in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Abbie asked, paying attention to her partner once more.

"I'm afraid I am a bit worse for the wear, Lieutenant," he said, pushing his hands through his loose hair.

Ichabod didn't seem to quite grasp what was going on and all of Abbie's running around and slamming doors wasn't exactly doing his pounding head any favors. The electric lights were particularly bright and glaring.

The Revolutionary War soldier took a long slow breath in an attempt to rally himself to the task at hand and stood up.

"Jenny's not here," Abbie said with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Yes, I gathered that. Thank you," Ichabod said more tersely that he probably meant to, but Abbie didn't take offense.

Jenny's probably fine. Now you keep your cool, Abbie told herself, First things first. Take care of Crane. Then we'll look and see what's outside.

"Come here," she grabbed Ichabod's arm and lead him into the bathroom.

"Here, swallow these," Abbie instructed, handing him a couple aspirins and a little paper cup of water. "It's a painkiller."

Ichabod did as he was told.

"Sit down for a bit. You should start to feel better soon," Abbie said.

Ichabod sat on the toilet seat and let his eyes close out the glaring lights for a few minutes, while he gathered his strength.

Abbie leaned against the sink. She still seemed agitated, but calm enough for the moment.

He definitely killed the tree-branch demon. Didn't he? It was completely dead. Back in Purgatory or wherever it came from. Right?

...

To be continued!