Two days had past as the ghosts were wondering around town during the day, still looking for some place for them to stay, but were having no luck. No abandoned house or nothing for them to haunt, except for the streets. As they were floating down the streets, talking about what they should do, something caught Sam's -now called Stinkie- eyes as the other two didn't notice as they carried on to talk.

"Hey, fellas!" Stinkie called, making them stop as he flew to them with a newspaper in hand. "Check this out."

The leader took the newspaper and looked at the cover with the other two reading over his shoulders. "' Three McFadden brothers dead in car crash'," he read.

"We hit the front page?" Fasto, called that for obvious reasons, quietly asked in wonder.

"Look at the date," the youngest pointed out.

"Yesterday," Fatso replied softly.

"Alright, boys," Jack, now called Stretch for the way he can contort his body when scaring, ordered as he dropped the paper. "Let's head back to the manor and see what baby brother is up ta."

The two gave a curt nod of agreement as the three of them dashed in the sky and made their way to the coast. As they were flying, Stretch noticed the road that they always took to go to their brother's manor and found something shining in the sun's light. Without saying a word, he swopped down to the crash site with scraps of car still lying around and tree that looked as if nothing happened to it, as the ghost just stared at it with disbelief. This is where it all happened. If it wasn't for him-

His two ghost brothers approached his side in silence.

"Weird, ain't it?" Stinkie softly asked.

"You can say that again," Fatso muttered.

Stretch said nothing.

He was his fault that they were dead.

Not wanting to show weakness, he smirked with humor. "Don't tell me ya guys miss having breath in your lungs? We're immortal when those Fleshies have ta worry about death all the time."

The two nodded, knowing that he was right.

Stretch chuckled as he began to turn away. "Now, let's go." He loved being dead so far, but he only hoped that the guilt would pass over time, but right now, there was no way he was going to show his brother's that it was paining him after he saw that crash. He had to go the site.

When they arrived at the manor, Stretch wanted to yell that he was home to his brother like he normally did, but knew that he couldn't, so the ghosts just past through the walls and stayed invisible. When they first found out that they could go invisible, Stretch and Fatso were almost worried that their brother had crossed over or something, but it only turned out to that Stinkie just wanted to see if he could surprise-scare his two older brothers.

He just got a instant reflex of getting slugged in the face from the eldest brother.

The trio were just floating in the high ceiling, secretly watching their youngest brother sit in the living room with his beloved wife comforting him.

"I can't believe that they're gone," his voice echoed through the grand halls of Whipstaff. He then stood up and took a couple of paces away with anger. "I thought Jack knew better than that," he hissed. "He got him and others killed."

Stretch flinched out those words. Did he have to put it like that?

"Two days they've been dead and I still can't believe it."

"Jacob," his wife soothed as she stood up and approached him. "They were your brothers. Of course you can't believe it."

He smirked sadly. "The four McFadden brothers. Three are now dead. The wild ones hardly ever make it out alive."

"Dad?"

Fasto rolled his eyes as they turned to back to their normal state. "Brat in coming."

"I forgot about the kid," Stretch muttered dryly as the young child enter the room.

Young blonde boy walked down the staircase to meet his parents and sure enough, the child had a look of heartache.

"Can I scare 'im?" Fasto suddenly asked.

Stretch sighed. "No."

"It'll be so worth it," Stinkie joined in with a hopeful smile.

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please?" The two begged with large eyes as holding their hands like children begging for a toy.

"No!" He answered, a little too loudly, causing the Fleshies heads to perk.

The three ghosts quickly turned invisible and froze.

When the family returned to their conversation, the ghosts took a small sigh of relief, changing back.

Stretch growled lowly in annoyance as he narrowed his violet eyes at his brothers. "Ya idiots. Do ya want to be seen? And no, ya cannot scare Casper. Not at a time like this."

They hung their heads in disappointment.

"Out of the four brothers, I get stunk with both of ya," he hissed, crossing his arms. He then began to head to the nearest wall out of there. "Now let's get outta here."

"Are we gonna see 'em again?" Fatso asked.

"Maybe someday," Stretch answered, then the trio disappeared through a wall. He couldn't help think that it really was his fault that he got them all killed. He was the eldest! It was his job to protect his siblings and what does he do? Gets them all killed in a drunken car accident. Some eldest brother he was. Hell, he even protected his nephew at times.

"So where to now?" Stinkie sadly asked, obviously not wanting to go back to town.

Stretch thought about it, stopped, turned, and looked up at the top of the manor. "We could hide in the attic."

"For how long?" Fasto asked as they all turned their heads up towards the top of the manor.

"Till we want to show ourselves."

"So we just hide in there will we get bored?" Stinkie asked.

"Yep."

"Sounds good," the large ghost replied.

The leader then flew up to the top of the manor with the others following and went though the attic walls during the day and at night they would go scaring. At least they could say they haunt and attic...