I do not own Bones.

4.

Walking a line between "freaky" and "funny" let's see how this goes….

Recap 3: The team arrive at the house and begin to investigate. They separate to cover the massive house in less time and soon start to discover strange things.

Angela looked at the fire place closely as she snapped photos of the ornate woodwork. It wasn't the type of design where roses were carved into the wood. Instead the design came out of the wood towards the room. The wood was a dark and rich looking rosewood with a varnish on it. Angela had first been drawn in by two things, that the ornate wood protrusions had not been broken in 124 years nor had the stain or varnish lessened any. The room had seemed untouched in several decades so she doubted that the construction crews had refinished it.

She looked at the carvings and wondered if the one was a tiger or a gargoyle with teeth jutting out at her. It seemed a strange choice for a family home and she was curious now more about the original builder of the home. She vowed to look that up when she returned to the Jeffersonian. She continued to inspect the mantle when she caught a glimpse of light shining on the ashes within. Natural curiosity led her towards the squared ashes lying in it, one was near completely intact so she very carefully removed the fragile black fragment that was as thin as tissue paper. Angela realized it must have been the last paper thrown in the fire when it was low causing it to not destruct. Angela could see writing on it but knowing it would most likely disintegrate at any moment she snapped a series of photos of it and sure it enough the document soon crumbled to dust.

"That was creepy." She said to herself out loud.

As Brennan grew deeper in the small and narrow hallway that led to the rear of the house she felt the temperature drop. She felt this was due mostly to the building materials used in this section and less to do with the paranormal. She couldn't deny though that her heart rate had increased for no logical reason other than the fact she was entering an area that was not completely secure.

The end of the hall led to four doors, each a bedroom for the maids or butlers who resided here. She opened the first door which would turn out to be like the rest in design - simple and plain and devoid of furniture. She imaged what the rooms once looked like for those who lived here and were paid what was far less than minimum wage for their work. Inspection of the three rooms left little to the imagination but it was in the fourth room that her heart rate increased the highest when she saw a closet door open. She came closer and looked at the panel near the handle. There was a handle on the outside but the inside lacked a knob. Next to it, deeply embedded were deep groves - desperate pleas to be let out.

Booth peered at the house and as he looked again and again the windows were absent, the stone from the house having slid over them. He raced to the entrance but the door he had come in was gone as well. He turned around and the windows and doors from the carriage house disappeared as well, the lone dim bulb hanging overhead the only thing lighting the room.

"What the hell?!" Booth said looking around. How the hell is this happening? Booth asked himself as his mind raced for an explanation and a solution.

"What's wrong?" A voice said as Brennan walked forward.

"Oh Bones!" Booth said with relief. "You're okay. I was so worried, how did you get in, is everyone okay?"

"How should I know?" She asked with a look of disgust on her face.

"Didn't you see everyone?" He asked surprised at how apathetic she was.

"They're you're people Booth, shouldn't you be taking care of them? Sweets warned you - you know that right?" Brennan said taunting him.

Booth felt a chill, it was his worst fears - he had put his people in danger, he couldn't get to them and the worst fear of all - Sweets was right.

Cam was tired of this house and she wasn't even thru the whole thing yet. She opened the first bedroom she found, it appeared to be the master bedroom. She marveled at the looks of the room, very grand in style and was glad it hadn't been destroyed by the many inhabitants who had lived there over the years. In fact she was utterly surprised by the fact that the room, still furnished looked like it had a hundred years ago.

She felt a cool breeze and turned quickly, knocking a stand with a small vase to the floor. She jumped when she heard it break then teetering back on her tall heels she fell on her bum.

"Oh!" She said. "Damn, that smarts." She said rubbing her tiny posterior.

As though mounting stilts she got herself off the ground and dusted off Sweets dark jacket. She didn't want to return his generous offer ripped or dirty. Once she was satisfied it was in decent shape she went to collect the broken artifact but she found it, on the stand, intact.

"What the…." Cam said picking it up and seeing it in one piece. Cam recognized it was old and priceless. She narrowed her eyes at what she was about to do. She threw it to the ground smashing it again. She turned around away from it and counted to three then looked back. It was still smashed on the ground.

"Oh shit." She said with panic rising. "I just broke a priceless artifact to prove I wasn't insane. I am going to explain this one to Caroline?"

Cam rubbed her eyes wondered what she was thinking when she looked back to the stand, and the once again in tact vase.

"Time to go." She said turning on her heels and immediately tripped. She pushed herself back on her bruised bottom and tried to figure out how she fell over. She stood up again and feeling as though her shoes were made of Jell-O she toppled forward. She looked at her shoes again, inspecting them for a nail or something that made her unsteady on her feet. The third time she attempted to walk, her foot shifted to the side and she fell from it again. Now she removed the shoes and threw them across the room and headed for the door at a quick pace. She felt cool and grabbed for her shoulders, her jacket from Sweets was gone. She feel cool and uncomfortable - mostly because when she looked down - her shoes were back on. She made a run for the door but again tripped.

Oh God, she said to herself it's whatever told me would happen, my worst fear, that I would die trying to escape in my high heels.

Hodgins picked at the corner of the mural. There was something dark there and with a tool removed from his evidence collecting back he picked at the dark spot enough that something finally came loose. He looked at the cockroach like an old friend had stopped by.

"Hey there. I bet you might be able to tell me something." He said to the bug. "Let me just get you a little carrying case and I'll take you back to my lab."

Hodgins turned to get a plastic case from his bag and turned back to the mural, now he found a centipede.

"How, now you've got a friend." Hodgins said smiling. "Okay, well we can take you both." He said to the bugs.

"I'm a bug guy so you know, we can take lots of friends." He wondered why he was addressing the insects as though they were playmates of Michael Vincent's when a fly, a bee and a beetle showed up thru the small crack.

"And more…" Hodgins said at the strange combination of bugs.

As Hodgins said it the space began to flood with more varieties of bugs until the walls were covered with them. Hodgins lost interest in the plastic containers and decided to take a step back from the infestation that was occurring. As he turned to the door he was met with a sea of dark as the bug infestation had covered every inch of the wall space. He looked back at the mural to see the steam of bugs coming out. He was now completely surrounded by bugs…

Angela left the pile of ashes alone and felt a small pain in her temple, the start of a headache. That's weird she thought to herself. I don't usually get headaches, wonder what caused that?! She looked to the shelves of books and was curious what kinds of books stocked the shelves. They looked to be very old books and she figured they must be some of the true staples of literature. She randomly selected a burgundy spine book with faded gold writing. She couldn't read the spine's faded title so she flipped it open.

"Life and Times of Lisa the Mail Clerk." Angela read out loud. Her eyebrows tilted upwards and she figured this must have been a miss in a great collection. She picked up the book beside it. "How to properly arrange your paper clips" Angela read the cover. She assumed it was a joke and flipped thru the 384 page novel to find illustrations and explanations on - arranging paper clips in the proper northern English fashion. "One last try." She pulling a book off the shelf above, "The Fascinating Life of John Doe, a three part series." Angela had no interest in any part of the series, the first, second or the third.

She spied an old phonograph and after a few turns she it sparked to life with a record already placed on the table. She pulled a long book from the shelf that she recognized as an art book. She waited for the crackle to die down and the music to begin. A single note played. Then it played again, and again and again. It never changed cadence or tune and the single noted droned on. Angela checked to see if it was stuck but it continued. She waited for the music to change while she flipped thru pages of the book titled "Great Works of Visual Art." She was intrigued until she found a series of gray blocks, followed by pictures of unicorns and rainbows.

"What the hell?" She said flipping thru more pages of mediocre art. "Okay, just stop!" She yelled at the phonograph as it droned on with the same note banging over and over. It wasn't helping her headache any. She pulled at the arm of the phonograph but she felt a slight shock. She jumped back and timidly reached for it again. Again she felt a shock. The musical note droned on banging away between her ears.

Angela turned for the door but the door was locked, she was stuck as the 'music' droned on.

Sweets would have sworn that he had heard the shattering of glass but he thought it might just be his imagination. He didn't feel determined to go back, he figured it was fine. He didn't care really.

He had skipped the first two doors. Maybe there had been something important inside, he wasn't sure, he just didn't care. Finally he opened the third door. I suppose I should do SOME sort of work here. He said going in the small room. The rooms on this wing seemed to have been for the children of the families who had lived there. Sweets looked around the empty room which had been decorated in dark blues and reds where the others he had walked by were pastels. He figured a young boy had once occupied this room.

Sweets looked out the window to the carriage house. He saw Booth inside and he could sworn he was talking to someone. Sweets felt a little worried about that since he knew they had all split up but then he figured Booth was a big guy who could take care of himself. He doesn't need me, I'm just a pesky person nosing into everyone's business. Sweets grumbled to himself. He looked around the empty room and into the closet. What are we doing here anyway, this is all a waste of time! Sweets said slamming the closet door shut. He heard something make a thud noise. He stopped in his tracks and rolled his eyes. Great, now what!? He said turning to open the closet door again. Laying in the opening was a book, an old book by the looks of it with no printed cover. Sweets looked above and saw a ledge above the door, the book must have been placed there years ago he figured. He took the book and went by the window to read it by the light. He sat perched against the ledge and noticed the chill. Shouldn't have given the jacket to Cam you dummy. He chastised to himself. She probably didn't even appreciate it anyway.

He sat with the book in hand and flipped it open past the cover. It wasn't a published book, he soon realized it was a journal. He read the first few entries and deduced it had been written by a teenage boy. Wow, what gave that away genius? He poked fun at himself. The fact that he's talking about sports and girls in the first four pages? Some profiler you are, how would they ever do without you? Sweets turned the pages and read on, based on the references he figured it to be written around the turn of the century which he knew it must have belonged to Davin Gideon, the boy who had murdered his family.

Sweets turned the pages and recounted the boy's account of the events since the family moved in. The move had been difficult for Davin, Sweets was finding out and his mother encouraged him to write those entries in a journal. He was eventually adjusting well to the move when Emery fell down the well and the family was devastated. A year later when Avery went missing the family went from devastation to being edgy. The family tried to change things up and having all complained of a chill in the house, they installed a state of the art new-fangled furnace that would push air thru the entire house. It was an engineering marvel. Davin began to complain of not feeling well in those entries and in feeling sick and tired he grew angry.

His entries were filled of lines of how he felt left out and misunderstood by his family. Sweets understood the young man's plight deeper as deeper as he turned the pages till the last entry.

They care so little of me. I see how they look at me since Avery went missing. They have the gall to think I did something to her. Oh they deny it! And with such acting too! But I know what they are thinking. I am an annoying burden to them. One they would be lucky to be rid of! Well they are the ones who are going to be sorry! They will never forget me now, I'll make sure of that.

Sweets looked up from the book, his kind and empathetic dark brown eyes were devoid of their usual feeling and emotions, now, for the first time, he knew what he had to do.

Okay, so this is supposed to be a sort of mixture of sarcasm (humor) and scary. And hopefully it's come across that the house is causing each of the members of the team to manifest on their greatest fears. Booth being separated from his people and unable to help them, Cam at the mercy of her shoes, Hodgins the victims of his own passion, Angela stuck in a world of mediocre art and Sweets that he has lost the ability to care about people and thinks everyone hates him.

I'll pose a question however - what do you think Brennan's greatest fear would be?

Any don't worry, while this one isn't going to be a usual "torture Sweets" story the next one will be. I'm trying to decide between fire and torture. Thoughts on that as well?