Before we open the final chapter (discounting the epilogue), I have to recognize user aussiebornwriter who brought it to my attention that those bones probably definitely would have decomposed over the years, which I did not think of, and now must play the short & sweet "yeah they're just haunted." card.

Sweetwater River- Saturday, 6:30 P.M.

"We have to lay these to rest properly," Betty said immediately.

"Think it'll silence the ghost?" Veronica asked.

"It has to," Cheryl said.

"Friends, family," Jughead began, "random children who have been terrorized, we gather here today to mourn the loss of Ghosty McMadman, whose radiant personality and spiteful, murderous tendencies are just as prominent in his death as in his life."

"Jughead," Betty scolded.

"Though he was not in our lives long, he also did not leave a lasting impact," Jughead continued dramatically. "In a matter of days, we will be in a raging state of denial, trying to reclaim a mindset where we believe we have some minimal, basic understanding of this world—"

"Jughead," Betty repeated.

"Fine, I'm done." Jughead checked his watch. "You and Veronica have to head home soon. Cheryl and I can call the police and anonymously report these."

The girls nodded.

"I'm going to sleep for a week when I get home," Betty moaned.

"Same," said Veronica.

"I'll drop you guys off," Cheryl offered.

The gang stood, sparing a few hesitant glances at the scuttled bones, black with wet dirt and darkness, before turning and making their way through the woods of Sweetwater River.

Pop's Chock'Lit Shoppe- Saturday, 7:00 P.M.

Betty and Veronica were both home by seven, as promised, though they had much to answer for. Why they were out so long, why they hadn't texted, why Betty had allowed herself to be seen in the same car as a Blossom.

In a booth at Pop's, seated across from a cleaned-up Cheryl, Jughead had made the anonymous call, and now he was smiling over his burger at last, a burger the size of his head.

By nine, he was nodding off in the booth, plate cleaned, and the bones were being examined.

"Think Thornhill is safe now?" Jughead asked finally, straightening up from his shuteye.

"I don't know," Cheryl admitted. "But we shouldn't leave the guys hanging any longer." She scooted forward, dropped some money on the table, and stood. "The ghost said he had eyes on us, so we'll have to be ready…"

"Ready to run like hell if he tries to take you or your brother," Jughead finished.

"Right."

"Then here we go."

Thornhill- Saturday, 9:30 P.M.

As the guest house came unlocked with a click, Jughead watched Cheryl's back, no ghost in sight.

"Guys?" Cheryl called, opening the door.

"Thank God!" Jason called, leaping out the door, followed closely by Archie.

"Thank you, Cheryl and Jason!" Archie cried, hugging Jughead as Jason hugged his sister.

"What the hell were you two doing in the guest house anyway?" Jughead laughed. "I thought you were going to meet me in the library."

"We were," Archie said honestly. "We just…" He trailed off.

"I just wanted to show Archie something in there," Jason said slowly, obviously lying.

Jughead raised an eyebrow as Cheryl tilted her head.

"What could possibly be in the guest house?" Cheryl asked. "And was it worth getting locked in for over twenty-four hours?"

Archie and Jason laughed uneasily.

"It wasn't that bad," Archie shrugged.

"Yeah, there was plenty of food and running water," Jason said. "And," he added slyly, "I was in great company."

Archie's ears burned red, which Jughead and Cheryl tried to ignore, just as they tried to ignore his wincing when he sat down in the car before going home.

As Jason drove Archie off the property, not without asking Cheryl why the gates were crooked, Jughead asked if she would be okay alone on the property.

"I think so," Cheryl said. "There's nothing here and I know my room is safe."

"Okay, let me know if that changes," Jughead said.

"Are you going to be okay?" Cheryl asked.

"Better than okay," Jughead said with a small smile.

"What?"

"Betty is… the most generous and kind human being I have ever met," Jughead elaborated.

Cheryl gave him an inquisitive look.

"She gave me half of the treasure," Jughead said, pulling a heavy-looking bag out of his bookbag.

"Damn."

"She wanted to give me more," Jughead said, putting the bag back pawing at the ground with his shoe, "but I couldn't ever let her do that."

"When did this happen?"

"When I walked her to her doorstep after you drove her home," Jughead said. "What a perfect…" He smiled, a real, genuine smile. "Nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Cheryl smiled back.

"Anyway, I'm going home. Or something. There will be a home eventually, anyway," Jughead said, motioning to his bag.

"Goodnight, Jughead."

"Goodnight, Cheryl."

Thornhill- Saturday, 11;30 P.M.

Cheryl lay awake in bed, trying to think about anything but the events of the last two days and failing.

Her mind played and replayed the image of Betty, face contorted in anger and hate, thrusting the dreadful knife at her throat.

A crash from downstairs jolted her from her memory and sent her fear reeling.

"Jay-Jay?" She asked, praying it was only him.

No answer.

Cheryl stepped out of bed, and crept out of her room, searching for Jason.

"Jason, was that you? Jay-Jay?"

She stood alone in the hallway, staring at the vase which had been thrust onto the floor by an unseen force.

"Fuck," she said aloud.

She turned and heard her door slam.

She had to get out; Jason would be safe in his room.

Cheryl bolted.

Halfway through the yard, she saw another figure coming forward in the dark, running towards her, too close for comfort. Cheryl pulled herself to a stop and started running the other way, but she was too late.

She was grabbed by the arm, and whoever was behind her didn't stop moving.

"What's happening? Is Jason okay?"

"Betty?"

"Hi, Cheryl. I hope you don't mind my late-night trespassing but—"

"The ghost isn't gone," Cheryl interrupted.

"So I figured," Betty said, breaking into a run once again. "Come on, I think I know how to get rid of it."

They blew through the mansion's massive doors to find the dreaded knife from earlier floating in a rage above their heads.

"Elizabeth Cooper!" The ghost's voice thundered, thrusting the knife in front of Betty's face. "How dare you show your face here again! You disgrace, you fool! You ruined everything!"

"And you!" The knife swung in front of Cheryl. "You Blossom bitch, I want you now. You deserve to die more than your brother." A sick laugh issued from the air. "This will only hurt a lot."

As the knife swung, Betty grabbed Cheryl's hand and the two scrambled into the parlor.

"Where's the book?" Betty asked frantically.

Knife following them, suspended in the air, Betty and Cheryl dove to the ground and searched for the cursed book that Betty had taken from the library what seemed like ages ago.

"Got it!" Cheryl cried, throwing her arm up, book in hand.

"Stop, you fiends!"

Betty leapt and paged open to the ghost's page, still stained in her blood.

She took hold of the page and yanked it out of the book, then tore the page itself into four pages.

The ghost's laugh rang out. "You think you can get rid of me that easily?"

As the knife spun in the air and the ghost rambled on about how Cheryl would die for her family's treachery and Betty would be deeply sorry for her double-crossing her family, Cheryl took the pieces of the page and crumpled them into her fist.

The knife made another swoop for Cheryl's throat, stopped midair by Betty's fist. She yanked, pulled the knife to the ground, and struggled to keep it there.

"Stop defending her, Elizabeth!" The voice thundered. "You brought me here! You are my blood, child! You are disgracing your family, you bitch!"

Betty kept the knife pinned to the floor.

"Let go or die!" the voice growled.

When Betty would not relinquish the knife, the ghost made a terrible growling noise and lit all the candles in the room.

"Then you shall burn by her side, Cooper."

The candlesticks crashed to the floor and, with a horrifying swoosh, a small but potent fire exploded from the ground.

Betty let go of the knife, now laying inanimate on the floor, and stumbled toward Cheryl. "Give me the pieces."

Cheryl tossed the four scraps of paper at Betty as she stood and ran for the other side of the room as Betty thrust the papers into the flames.

There was the sound of screaming, the ghost in agonizing pain, being banished from Thornhill. The knife, too, burned, coming away in paper-thin embers that burned orange on the edges.

The ghost's yelling was drowned out by the hiss of a fire extinguisher, wielded by Cheryl and aimed at the fire eating away the papers once and for all.