He floated in a dream-like state, not feeling or thinking anything, just sort of being. He couldn't say how long it took, hours, days, perhaps but after a time something jolted him, a little pinch of awareness and he began the long climb towards waking. He had to fight hard not to fall back, even if he couldn't really remember why he should resist the sleepiness and what it was he needed to wake for.

The physical sensations returned first – a warm, but a little itchy feeling engulfed his upper body. His legs were tingling, like the limbs had fallen asleep. Then there were the smells – comforting fragrance of soft wool, the unmistakable aroma of cardamom and something lighter on top of it, sweeter, but still sharp.

And lastly, there was a gentle hand stroking his hair.

With an effort, he finally opened his eyes.

He already knew Loki was with him. It took him a while longer to realize where they were. For some reason, they were sitting on the ground. He looked around and spotted the kitchen entrance and the French doors leading to the back garden. They weren't far then, merely in the sitting room. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but instead he was wrapped in a thick blanket, propped against a wall with Loki shielding him from one side, his one arm thrown around Thor's waist, the other combing his hair. He knew that too.

It was dark outside.

He took a deep breath, remembering the last minutes before he... what? Fainted? With a stab of fear, he looked down at his chest. As far as he could see, he wasn't injured, but there were smudges on his skin. Blood. He filled his lungs deeply and grimaced. His ribs were sore.

"Thor? It better be you."

Was I possessed? Loki sounded drained.

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"I... umm. I think it's your turn to suck me off."

Loki gave in to a fit of sobbing chuckles and pressed himself against Thor's side more firmly, hiding his face in Thor's neck.

"I'm convinced."

Somewhere down the hallway, a crash resonated. Then a painting fell down from the wall – Thor could just see it through the open door frame. He thought his heart might hammer out of his chest but next to him, Loki only sighed, still relaxed.

"He's been doing that the whole afternoon. It's getting kind of annoying."

"Annoying?! It's getting annoying?! It can kill us!"

"Well, that's just it, he can't. That's why he's shredding the décor."

Thor turned to stare at Loki questioningly.

"See?" Loki pointed a couple of feet in front of himself and then towards all the entrances – the kitchen door, the hallway door, the French windows. Thor squinted his eyes; some lamps were on in the door, but it was still on the dim side.

A curved line, a quarter-ring really, of pearly white separated them from the rest of the room. The same cusps of white were on all the thresholds. Thor didn't understand.

"It's salt," Loki said simply. "It keeps him out."

"How did you figure that out?" Thor asked, completely flabbergasted.

"It was on one of those sensational ghosts websites. I was running out of options, so I tried it."

"What happened anyway?"

Loki shuffled uncomfortably.

"You passed out. I dragged you in."

Silence.

"And?" Thor prompted impatiently.

"Jesus, Thor... what's there to tell? I panicked a bit, then the salt idea came to me, I made camp. That's it. We even have tea. Here. Drink up."

Thor took a sip of cold Earl Grey. "You know, I used the tea deflection on you this morning. I can see right through it."

Loki ignored him, looking at the ceiling stubbornly.

Thor gave it a moment, draining the cup and stretching his limbs a little.

"Okay. Out with it," he told Loki firmly.

"How about we talk about what we are going to do to get out of this mess, hm?"

"Yeah. Great idea. But for that I kind of need to know everything it can do, so how about you spill what really happened?"

"I told you what happened."

"Humour me. What about the blood?"

"Well, your shirt was drenched, but as far as I could tell, it didn't come from you."

Thor let his head fall against the wall with a thud. He remembered his own fear and panic when he found Loki unconscious on the ground. He realized Loki wasn't hiding anything substantial from him, only that he was unwilling to describe how exactly freaked out he had been with bloodied, fainted Thor on his hands and a ghost running amok.

Thor slid a hand down his chest, feeling for any hurt. There were two points that seemed more sore that the rest, like small bruises. Loki took interest in this, leaning forward to see better, pushing the blanket further back on Thor's shoulders.

"You alright?"

"Just trying to figure it out," Thor shrugged.

"I think..." Loki hesitated. "I think you were... shot."

"Shot?" Thor boggled at him.

"Well, not for real, obviously. But you know... phantom shot. Like William had been."

Something shattered in the kitchen. It was so raucous Thor guessed it was an entire shelf of glasses falling to the ground. He winced.

"This is so fucked up."

"How about you leave us alone, you nasty fucker!" Loki yelled so suddenly that Thor was startled even more than before. Then he just laughed miserably, wrapping his arms around Loki.

"Calm down."

"I don't want to calm down! This idiot thinks he can re-enact his stupid life through us? Well guess what!" Loki's last sentence was louder again and he turned away from Thor to shout into the room. "Thor's not my brother! He sucked my dick this morning!"

"Oh my god, stop," Thor was giggling, but he was still worried.

"And it was awesome!"

Then it was quiet, the silence only disturbed by Thor's forced chuckles. But nothing broke, which was interesting. Thor wondered if Loki was maybe onto something.

He nuzzled Loki's cheek. "That was a round-about way of complimenting me."

Loki gave him a deep kiss then, rushing at first, his tongue plunging into Thor's mouth assertively, but then he slowed down and sighed into it. Thor cupped his cheek and tilted his face to a better angle, lapping at the daring tongue with his own. They parted with a series of parting pecks, surging back again and again, unwilling to really pull apart.

"Okay, okay," he breathed against Loki's lips, his hands sliding down to his shoulders to put a little bit of distance between them. "Now. Plan of escape."

"Spoil-sport."

"Is there a chance of any phones working?"

"Nope."

"We could try the car."

Loki considered this, but then shook his head. "He's gotten pretty good at messing with objects. He can easily sabotage a car I think."

The only other thing Thor could think of was simply making a run for it, but it was so desperate and dangerous he kept it to himself. Their conversation subsided again and he stared off to space.

With the constant action and danger it was odd to just stop and think. Odd and not particularly pleasant. They were cornered by a blood thirsty spirit, all alone in the middle of nowhere. He thought self-deprecatingly that he would have to have a stern talk with his father about this whole marriage idea. If they ever got out of there.

The room was dark and Adrian reached clumsily for a cup to moisten his throat. No one was there to assist him, but that was not unexpected. His illness was but the last bout of suffering that fell on his family.

Even he didn't deem it terribly important.

His linens were covered with tiny droplets of drying blood. He must have been coughing in his sleep. Well. That was to be expected.

He put the cup back on the table and his hand slid over a stack of papers.

His two last letters were returned with the incomprehensible, impossible words "addressee deceased" scrawled on them in red ink. A package followed then, from the army – clothes, some letters that were actually delivered, personal objects. Adrian recognized every single one of them, except maybe for a craftily made flask. Something that William had purchased for himself after he left home. Adrian was now old enough to know that many men used liquor to drown their sorrows. It was unbearable to think that his brother had resorted to such in the last years of his life.

Had he the strength, he might have gotten up and opened a chest at the foot of his bed and gone through these reminders again. Instead, the cough seized him again and after the fit subsided, he could only fall back into the pillows and let exhausted sleep claim him.

Two hours later (under, apart from other things, the unpronounced threat of no food, no water and no facilities) they changed their minds about trying to take the car and leave.

Their plan was construed in a whisper that was barely anything above breathing. They pressed their lips to each other's ears, sending carefully articulated wisps of warm air to the attentive shells. They didn't know of course it if was any good. But time for whooping and tough talk was over.

Thor could see Loki was still tired and shaken and he himself wasn't much better off. The possession and re-living of past horrors left them both drained.

The ghost was quiet, but very obviously still around. Thor could feel the oppressive presence. It was almost familiar by now and he found himself thinking if he had been feeling it from the very beginning and had written it off as a result of the age of the house and the nature surrounding it.

He would think twice next time before dismissing his instincts.

They sat for a couple of minutes, Thor's arm inconspicuously wrapped around Loki's hips, hidden by the blanket he was still bundled in. Then, at Thor's signal – three quick taps against Loki's skin with his finger – they rose as one man, each grabbed a handful of the salt that separated them from the rest of the room, entwined their fingers and ran. The blanket slipped from Thor's shoulders and he shivered a bit.

Loki was in the lead so that they would unmistakably aim for the garage. Thor's head was pounding, partly from the sprinting after sitting down for so long, but mostly from excitement and fear. But it felt good. It felt good to be moving, to be trying.

Down the hallway they went, quick and determined, feet thumping loudly on the old carpet. Loki stumbled once and Thor was so startled he wasted half of his meagre salt ration when he threw his arm up, trying to dispense a few grains into the air to, in theory, banish the ghost. Nothing happened – for better or for worse – and they continued their scramble.

Their first obstacle was the garage door. It was hopelessly locked. Loki rattled the door handle desperately, but it wouldn't budge. Thor bumped into him to get him out of the way and tried it as well, putting his entire weight into the door, praying it would give in.

They both jumped, startled, when booming blasts came from inside. Four of them. Like gun shots.

"The tires," Loki groaned and Thor closed his eyes for a moment in understanding.

They froze where they were, eyes scanning their surroundings in panic. They were cornered. Exposed. Thor's heart was beating in a painful staccato. He could actually feel each beat hammering against his rib cage.

He drew Loki close to him and they curled themselves together almost unconsciously by the garage door.

"What now?" Loki murmured.

The silence surrounding them had a distinct sense of doom to it.

"Let's try and get out," Thor murmured, trying to figure out where the closest doors outside were. Loki grabbed him and broke into a run again, back down the hallway they have come in through.

He was lucky he hadn't been watching his feet or Loki at the next moment. The entrance hall opened in front of them and they rushed there, hoping to cross it. Thor was looking straight forward, his gaze trained on the huge entrance door when there was a smudge of movement. He dug his heels in so hard he almost slipped on the rich carpet and yanked Loki towards himself, just barely stopping him from being hit by a statue falling from its pedestal.

"Fuck," Loki yelped, wavering on his feet. They have both lost their balance, but Thor knew hesitation could cost them everything. His fingers were in a steel grip around Loki's wrist and he jumped over the marble figure, focused on their destination.

They got to the door and the house fell quiet, no shattering sounds, no new traps. Thor tried opening it with a sinking feeling. It wouldn't give.

They were trapped.

Thor looked at Loki who returned the gaze. He was scared, but he was also growing more and more angry. Determined. The gloves were off. Loki's eyes were sparkling and his jaw was set and Thor could imagine that similar thoughts were running through the other boy's mind.

An idea came to him and he wasted no time thinking about it further or explaining himself to Loki, pulling him wordlessly along. They got back to the sitting room and Thor let go of Loki's hand, grabbing a heavy wooden chair from the table.

"I hope the house is insured," he smirked at Loki as a way of giving himself some courage, strode towards the French doors in three reassured steps and flung the chair, hard.

It crashed right through and glass shattered and exploded everywhere. Thor had good aim – the chair had completely emptied out an entire panel of glass, floor to top. The edges were still jagged and there were sharp pieces of glass all along the way, but it worked. They could get through.

Thor let out a little whoop, muscles flexing excitedly with the strain of throwing the heavy chair and he started towards the hole, eager to finally get out. Loki's warning cry reached him barely in time.

The chair, laying cracked on the patio lit on fire. And so did all the curtains and drapes in the room. The flames spread unnaturally, flaring high and hot from floor to ceiling. In mere seconds the flame ran along the carpet as if it was drenched in flammables and Thor was hit in the face with a gust of scorching hot air. He reeled back, almost falling and then there were Loki's hand, grasping his shoulders, pulling him to safety. It barely took a minute for the entire room to start burning.

Clouds of hot smoke were rolling towards them, filling the hallway.

"Come on, upstairs, upstairs!" Loki yelled and scrambled to steer Thor in the right direction. Thor's mind couldn't process the idea at that very moment and he simply followed, nose already itching from the smoke. Loki had an arm thrown over his face to breathe through the fabric of his sleeve, but that was a luxury denied to Thor. He still didn't know what Loki's plan was, but he was moving incredibly fast, jumping the stairs three at a time when they finally got to the foot of the staircase.

"Your room, now!"

Upstairs, it was still cool and the air clear, but the insistently growing humming of the fire downstairs told them it would not last much longer. They could hear the burning furniture crackling and the overheated air puffing and exploding.

"Why?" called Thor after Loki who was already darting down the hallway.

"Move!" Loki just shouted, not even turning around. Inside, it was oddly warm and it didn't smell quite as clear anymore – the floor was heating up from the fire down below.

"Get dressed," Loki told him, weirdly standing in the middle of the room, doing nothing.

"What? Are you-" he stared at Loki, worried. He didn't have a shirt on, that was true, but that was hardly a priority. But he figured they would get moving sooner if he just did it and he threw on a t-shirt and pulled two hoodies out, stuffing one on despite the warmth and giving the other to Loki who took it wordlessly and pulled it over his head. He said nothing and turned to the bed, ripping down the covers and sheets, throwing them to Thor and rummaging through the wardrobe until he was holding two spare blankets.

Thor was sweating.

The noise was getting worse and he could see tendrils of smoke crawling along the floor out on the hallway. The fire was spreading, fast and while his mind was blank of any ideas, Loki seemed to have gone mad.

"Thor," Loki said, loudly. "We're going to take these upstairs to the old bedrooms and set them on fire. We should burn everything that can be left from Adrian's and William's things. Here, you take that load, I will keep this."

Thor gaped at him.

"Stay close," Loki added, in a quieter, somehow pointed tone. A light bulb went off in Thor's head and he nodded.

Loki stepped out to the hallway. It was already foggy with smoke and there was a distinct orange glow coming from the stairs. Loki made three measured steps, his head straight and held up high. Thor was half a step behind him; plastered so close he risked kicking his heels. He was perfectly focused on every movement Loki made. If he understood this right, he would need to react in less than a second.

And that's just what happened – for reasons Thor couldn't guess yet, Loki barged into one of the rooms they were passing, opening the door before the ghost had a chance to seal it closed. Up to the last moment, he gave nothing away, didn't look where he was going, didn't slow down. And it worked. Thor was ready and followed.

He got a quick glimpse of the room they were in. It was mostly empty, filled only with two beds stripped of any mattresses or bedding and couple of closets, stacked to one side. None of that was really important. He grasped the full extent of Loki's plan as soon as he looked forward. There was a glass door leading to a balcony.

"The sheets and quick!" Loki hissed, shaking out his handful of blankets, throwing them over his head and wrapping himself up. Thor did the same and as a last resort, he tried opening the balcony door by hand first, but it was too late. There was the tell-tale pressure in his temples. Adrian has caught up to them. Taking a deep breath, he took four steps back, tightened his blankets about him and sprinted towards the glass doors, ducking his head and putting a shoulder forward.

It hurt.

Then he was on fire.

And something crashed into him, hard.

They rolled around on the stone balcony floor, shedding their smouldering blankets. The entire room was on fire and the flames licked through the shattered glass, reaching for them. Thor untangled himself at last and pulled Loki up as well.

He didn't check the height first. There was no point. He hopped onto the old, carved stone railing and swung his legs over, pleased to find a bit of an over-hang at the level of the balcony floor and lowered himself as much as possible, all the while keeping an eye on Loki to see him repeat his motions. Behind them, the inferno raged. Everything around was illuminated in faint orange and red glow.

He jumped.

There was grass under his palms and he breathed out in relief, before gasping as pain bloomed in his ankle and both of his knees. A thud and a soft cry next to him made him fight it.

"Good?"

"Alive."

They crawled away. There was no other way to put it. Thor was not eager to start cataloguing his injuries, but there were quite a lot of them and they began making themselves known to him whether he wanted or not as his adrenaline levels dropped.

At a snail pace, staggering and dragging themselves on all fours, they made their way as far from the house as possible. They had jumped somewhere into the garden (Thor could tell because the grass was short and tidy and they passed the pond) and didn't stop until they were far on a hill, surrounded by a rather thick growth of trees. Thor vaguely remembered their trip to the lake as they had gone almost the same way then. It was exactly in the opposite direction from the main road, but they were too desperate to care.

It didn't matter anyway. Thor felt... free. Relieved. He didn't sense anything odd.

He sagged onto the soft ground and leaned against the nearest tree trunk. Loki did the same not far from him.

His ankle was throbbing in pain and his knees were aching from the impact. On top of that, he was slowly discovering small cuts and burns all over his skin, most noticeably a larger burn on the side on his neck and a cut on his forearm and on the side of his palm. He sat unmoving for a while, eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and slowly letting himself feel all the aches. His vision was still pulsing beyond the closed lids and his lungs were hungry for oxygen.

When his body settled, he let himself open his eyes and look back towards the Cottage. It was burning whole and his throat closed up and he looked over to Loki before he could stop himself. The whole building, so vast and old was slowly but surely consumed by flames. Thor remembered very well what Loki had said. It was his home. And now it was gone, devoured by a restless heart. They were too far to really feel the heat, but Thor could imagine it easily and he could smell the suffocating scent of smoke.

"I'm sorry," he said hopelessly.

Loki was propped against a trunk, curled on himself and staring at the fire. The flames shone so brightly they were reflected in his eyes.

"Why?" he breathed. "Why did this... why did he..."

A figure glided silently through the burning halls, never stopping, frantic and without a purpose. The house was screaming and screeching, the walls, all old wood and stone fighting their demise. No living being was there anymore, all having fled the menace that had tortured them. The figure was moving quickly, harshly, full of desire and desperation. Every memory it ever held was bursting from its heart, tormenting its very existence.

It had once almost tasted peace, after centuries of grief and anguish. But then... then it was disturbed. It could not even tell why, merely that after decades of calm, it was rocked and shaken by laughter and camaraderie and a bond that encompassed bodies and minds alike. It grew jealous, it grew restless. The peace that had seemed so close was suddenly as distant as ever. And so it thrashed and cried out, trying to rid itself of those who dared mock it and disturb it with their love and closeness and care. And now it was all gone, shattered to pieces, burning in flames that reached all the way to sky.

It could not endure any longer. Its ties were severed and it was sent on its way, whether it was in peace or not. It was time.

Thor crawled over to Loki, checking on him in the faint light of the burning house. There was blood on his jacket, but it wasn't clear where it came from. There was a burn high on his forehead and his hair might have been singed a little.

He sat down in front of Loki's tense form, arranging his legs so that his ankle didn't hurt quite as much and took Loki's freezing hands in his own.

"Hey," he murmured. "You with me?"

Loki dallied for a moment and then squeezed Thor's fingers back in a reassuring gesture.

"Yeah. Fine."

"I think it's gone," Thor relied his gut feeling to Loki. "It can't do anything now. We got away."

"Yeah, I know, I know..."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, eyes roaming all over Loki.

"I don't know. Yeah-"

Thor kept his mouth shut then. It was not like they could do anything about their injuries. They were completely stripped. Fish out of water. Thor wasn't even sure if his wallet was in the pocket of his trousers or not. He knew he should come up with a plan, get them moving, figure out what to do. But he was tired and his mind was drifting.

He held on to Loki's hands and turned back to the burning building.

"Thor?" Loki mumbled and he turned to him, unsettled by the way Loki slurred his words. "You know... you are a little crazy... but also pretty cool."

Thor choked out a laugh. "Let's not even get started. I have a lot to say about you."

"I bet," Loki chuckled and closed his eyes, resting his head against the tree. "We should probably think about a cover story, but my mind isn't really working right now."

Thor hadn't thought about this before, but an answer came easily to him. "We can't mention the ghost. They would lock us up in a padded room. Not the way I envisioned spending my summer."

"I know... let's just... say something about a faulty stove... I don't know. But Thor-" Loki seemed to fighting exhaustion really hard. "Let's talk later, okay? No matter what happens. Let's talk."

"About?" Thor prompted, his mind a bit hazy.

"Us. Our... you know... kissing and other... activities."

"Oh," Thor bit his lip. "I like you."

"And I you. That's why we should talk. But later."