There was a short and wonderful moment when I woke up in my bed where I thought perhaps it had all been a dream. But as I tried to sit up, the room began to tilt at some unnatural angle, and I practically fell back onto my pillow with an involuntary groan. I slowly began to notice that I had been wrapped and heaped with what seemed to be every blanket in the house, as well as several large towels. It was morning, and the curtains had been opened in the room to allow the daylight inside. There was a dull but constant ache behind my eyes, like the remnants of a migraine. Before I could fully wake up the door opened, making me jolt back into a sitting position. I instantly regretted this decision as the dizziness hit me, and I sank forward to press my forehead against my knees. A pair of hands pulled me back by the shoulders and forced me to lie down again and when I opened my eyes I was somewhat relieved to see Creed standing over me.

"I told you not to go back down there alone." He said, clearly annoyed, "And don't try to tell me you didn't. You left the lights on. Dumbass."

"Good morning to you too." I grumbled, rolling over onto my side so that my back was to him. My headache was starting to get worse, and the light form the window behind him didn't help. I dully heard him declare that it was afternoon as I pressed a pillow over my head. I had plenty of questions about the things that had happened last night, but my body was still protesting against any sort of movement or activity that required me to be conscious. Much to my dismay, Creed pulled the pillow away as he continued to talk at me.

"—Already gotten blood on it from last night, keep at it like that and you'll split your head open again—" From what I could tell I was still wearing all of my clothes from last night, even my shoes. With a resigned sigh I peered under the covers to see the extent of the damage they had done to my bedsheets. There was a good amount of smudging, which I doubted would wash out. "—No idea what could have been hiding down there or how far down it goes—" I quickly let the pile of blankets fall back into place as I became reminded of the sickening chill that seemed to have taken root inside me. It was nowhere near as bad as before, but I could still feel a noticeable difference. My limbs were still sore and felt weak. I got the feeling that this whole house was going to prove hazardous to my health. "—You're lucky you didn't split your head open again, you know that?"

"Creed" I finally managed to groan, "Shut up." The silence that followed made my ears ring. He didn't leave, he just stood there fuming. And watching me. The tension seemed to press on me in the same way as my headache. I put my hand over my eyes in another attempt to block out the light."What even happened down there." I wasn't expecting an answer, I was just thinking out loud.

"You had a breakthrough. And passed out because you couldn't handle it." I parted my fingers to look at him, but his face wasn't visible to me. He was facing me, I could tell, but the window was behind him and the light made my headache worse. I gave a heavy sigh.

"If you're going to tell me things, actually TELL me, you cryptic bastard."

"Later." He said, still sounding stern, "Show me your eyes."

"They hurt too much." I said, rolling so that I was no longer facing him. The adrenaline rush I'd had upon first waking up was starting to fade, and I wanted to go back to sleep. With what seemed like almost no effort, Creed yanked the pile of blankets away and I reflexively curled up tighter on my side. It couldn't have been less than 70 degrees in the room, but it felt freezing. I felt the mattress dip slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed and gently took hold of my shoulder to turn me over on my back.

"I brought you some migraine pills," He said, propping me up to take them, "It'll all pass by tomorrow." As I swallowed the pills, he checked my eyes. Satisfied that I wasn't concussed, he let me lie back down and covered me up again.

"What the hell is going on," I groaned, not expecting an answer.

"You're in a shock, of sorts." Creed said, picking up a few more blankets from the floor, "You need to eat something."

"Oh please no." My stomach tightened at the thought. Even just having my eyes open was making me nauseous. "how long until those pills kick in?"

"A few more minutes at least." Creed sighed. I could tell he was still on edge. "You left the front door unlocked," He said sternly, "You're lucky I'm the only one who came by."

That snapped me out of my fatigue.

"Creed!" I started up in bed, nearly knocking him off the edge of the mattress, "There was someone down there! In the tunnel!" How could I have forgotten? The full horror of the thought finally hit me. There was someone living under my floor. Someone who now had access to my house, my possessions, to me. All of my symptoms suddenly paled in comparison to my nausea. Creed took hold of my shoulders and laid me back to the pillows.

"Calm down"

"There is someone in my house!" I shot back.

"I took care of it." Creed said, so calmly that it actually made me stop struggling. "For now anyway. Just lie down. I'll bring you something to eat."

He made me finish eating before we brought up the subject of the basement again. Which meant waiting quite a while. I managed to keep down the toast and jam fairly well. I suspect the ginger he put in the tea he brought with it was largely to thank for that. When he finally seemed satisfied that I wasn't going to pass out again, he finally spoke.

"You were right about the basement," He said calmly, "There is something down there."

"It's not something." I said, holding my still half-full mug of tea tightly, "It's someone. I heard them. They were right behind me." I felt another twinge of nausea at the thought and shakily took another sip of the tea.

"Don't worry, he can't hurt you." he put a hand on my knee reassuringly, "I checked. He can't even touch you. Not without just the right circumstances anyway."

"Can you please stop that?" I pleaded, "Stop drawing everything out like this and just tell me what's going on in my house." Creed took a deep breath and removed his hand. He watched me for a moment, like he was half-expecting me to change my mind.

"This house is haunted." He finally said, "And the man in your basement is dead. Has been for over a century now. The only reason he could touch you before is because you got lucky. He won't come near you again, I promise. And if he does, I'll take care of him. Permanently if I have to."

"What happened to me down there? did he—"

"No. He didn't touch you." Creed said firmly, "But he did cause it, partially at least. I don't know what triggered it, but something broke through that wall you've been struggling with. You know, with your whole Spiritual Awareness frustrations. Maybe that fall down the stairs knocked a few things loose."

"Not funny." I muttered darkly into my tea.

"Down there, your body started becoming aware of things it hadn't noticed before. Spiritual stimuli. Pent-up energy. Dead guys. Suddenly your system had all of these sensory details that it didn't know what to do with, so it sort of…malfunctioned. It usually doesn't last too long. A couple days at most. You should stay in bed, though. At least for the rest of the day." The whole time he spoke, he seemed reluctant. I could feel that he was waiting for me to say that I didn't believe him. But hell. Weirder things had already happened.

"Who is he?" I finally asked

"The original owner of the house." Creed said, with a bit of a sigh, "He designed it himself."

"Has he got a name?"

Creed smirked a bit.

"Well, that's where it gets interesting."