Note: Your responses are overwhelming and wonderful and extremely encouraging. Perhaps you may be understanding why I've been cranking this out. I want to see what happens too, as I only have a vague impression of what happens next whenever I write. The characters are owned by MysteryBen and Artsy.

…..

"Please, please, please…" Arthur's breath came in ragged gasps as he neared the edge of the cliff. He could feel his heart beating like it was about to explode, the blood pounding in his ears. "Please!"

"This is for Lewis!" A pair of hands shoved into his back, sending him hurtling over the edge. His body twisted around just enough to see Vivi's grim-set face staring down at him.

The wind rushed past his ears as the pounding in his head roared to a crescendo before stopping abruptly.

He knew what came next, and tried to shut his eyes against it, but was unable to. A stalagmite protruded from the middle of his body, now streaked with blood. There was a moment or two of numbness, the disbelief and refusal of his body to process what was happening to it.

Then it hit him. The searing pain of ripped flesh and the shattering agony of bone and muscle torn apart, organs ruptured and functions failing. He tried to scream, but the spike must have caught the bottom of a lung, because he couldn't even draw breath enough to make a sound beyond a faint hiss. His vision began to blur, but before he surrendered to the blackness, he could just make out the silhouette of Vivi, staring down at him from the cliff ledge.

Arthur's soul gasped, shrieking as he writhed in the grip of the Spirit.

"I quite liked that one, possibly the best response yet. Shall we try it again?"

Arthur didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the cavern ledge, his body calmly composed in a cross-legged sitting position as the Spirit toyed with his soul. For hours the Spirit had been replaying Lewis' fall from the ledge in Arthur's mind, only it was Arthur falling from the ledge. He felt every moment as if it was happening, and no matter how many times he braced himself, the fall was just as terrifying, and the impact just as agonizing.

Every time there was something different about the scenario. Sometimes it was Lewis shoving him off, or Mystery. Sometimes the spikes were large, sometimes small, sometimes there was more than one impaling him. Sometimes he threw himself off. Sometimes it was his parents, throwing him off the cliff out of shame for having a murderer as a son. Once it had been a public execution, complete with police, judge, and jury in the cavern. But the Spirit had finally run the scenario with Vivi pushing him off through his head. He'd felt his heart crack at the image, prompting the Spirit to replay that one over and over and over.

Even within himself he had no sense of how the Spirit appeared. He heard the fluttering of leathery wings and felt viselike claws binding him, but no vision of the beast presented itself. He had tried to regain control of himself, but the Spirit would only laugh and send him into another vision.

His mind was fractured, fracturing. He was losing himself. He felt there was something important he was forgetting, something he had to prevent from happening, but it kept slipping away from him. There was someone he had to warn, but whenever he'd nearly recalled it, he was plunged into another vision.

Had it been hours? Days? Years? How long had he been falling from the ledge without really falling?

"Kill me!" He shrieked. "Just kill me! Do it!"

He was falling, plunging to his death as Vivi's accusation seared his mind. "Murderer!"

"Please!"

"Patience," the Spirit rasped, laughing. "Death will come soon enough. For now, let's enjoy this a little longer."

Flames crawled up the spikes, licking at his skin and crisping it as he struggled to free himself, only sliding further down the stalagmite. As his vision darkened, he felt a familiar headache collect behind his eyes.

"Ahhh, he comes." The Spirit's eyes glowed through his as it turned Arthur's body, positioning it to face the tunnels, away from the ledge. "A primitive calling spell, but then he is only a year old."

Arthur's neck began to twitch in time with the pulse in his head. The Spirit merely grinned. "But he will come to me."

Arthur could no longer remember who they were waiting for, or why it was important. He lay limp in the Spirit's grip, clinging desperately to the few moments where he was not suffering. His head jerked again and again, harder, but the body did not move. The Spirit was strong.

A pink glow suffused the tunnel, and Arthur could see it growing brighter. A form rounded the corner; a skeleton standing over six feet tall dressed in a striking black suit, fiery pink hair flickering with flames as he approached. His footsteps made no sound, and he carried nothing with him, save a notebook in one hand.

Something nudged at the back of Arthur's mind, some detail he needed desperately to remember, but then he was hurled across the cavern by an unseen hand, arcing farther and falling faster than he ever had before. He felt himself land across several spikes, bursting apart as he expired.

He came back to himself as the skeleton stared at him, its eyes glowing pink and very, very cold. The spectre was peering into his eyes like it could see everything, both visible and invisible.

"Who are you?" The skeleton's voice was familiar, but Arthur steeled himself against thinking too hard on it. The Spirit would know, the Spirit would kill him again.

"A friend," Arthur's mouth replied. "I've been watching this coward ever since he came here. Really he is rather pathetic. It seems he came with some notion of setting a trap." Arthur's head jerked in the direction of the exit. "Came with the van and all the ghost hunting trappings, hoping to catch you off guard. Thought I would do you a favor."

"Very generous." The voice was clipped and short, the skeleton still staring. "Why?"

"Let's just say this cave has been my home for a very long time, and I've seen quite a lot over the last few centuries." Arthur's head tilted, a grin spreading across his face. "Consider me a guardian of justice."

The skeleton stood there, unmoving. His hair flickered and flared like a candle in the dark.

"You've been waiting for a long time for this, haven't you?" The Spirit's voice bled through into Arthur's, rasping with sympathy. "I saw what happened. I saw all of it. And since you were murdered, you've been wandering the world. I remember your first few moments, bewildered and confused. Then shocked and wounded. How could he have done this to you? How could your best friend have betrayed you like that? And then you knew." The voice deepened. "He wanted you gone, so he could have the female to himself."

Lewis' hair flared brighter even as he himself did not move.

Lewis. His name was Lewis. Arthur cringed, expecting another vision, but the Spirit was focused elsewhere.

"Your screams shook my cavern, I've never seen such pain in a ghost. She must have meant so much to you, and this one parted you forever."

The skeletal hands tightened into fists.

In spite of himself, Arthur still felt the name slipping away. He knew it was important somehow, and he whispered it to himself. Even as the meaning of the name vanished, he continued repeating the same syllables and sounds over and over to himself until they sounded like nonsense words.

"Please, friend. Let yourself be at rest. I will hold him, you don't have to worry. He never even managed to lay the first trap." He spread his arms, scooting back dangerously close to the ledge. "Complete the cycle, and be at peace."

Lewis's finger slid into the notebook, marking a page. "I want to see his face."

"It is right here." Arthur's arm gestured at his face.

"I want to see Arthur. As he dies."

The grin widened. "Ah. I see. You wish to see the realization on his face. I understand." His mouth opened as the Spirit funneled out, whispering, "May it ease your pain."

Arthur crumpled to the ground facefirst, his body trembling uncontrollably. He felt his bladder release and his jaw go slack, a low moan clawing its way out of his throat as his head twisted sideways, his cheek scraping across the ground.

"Look at me."

It was difficult to remember how to move his eyes, or any other part of his body. He was disoriented, swimming in a deep black void, trying to find a way to comply with the strange skeleton's demand. "Lewis, Lewis, Lewis, Lewis," He panted to himself, over and over. The sound that came out of his mouth was a hellish moan that rose and fell in volume. "…ewwwwewwwwewwwwew…"

He felt his head jerk up, feeling the hot, bony grip on his chin, forcing his face up. He was staring into the skeleton's face, feeling the fire blazing from its hair.

"Lewis, Lewis, Lewis." His soul rocked, unable to control anything, trying to hold onto the strange sounding word that seemed to be important.

"…ewwiiiiewwwiiiiewiiiii…"

The spectre dropped him, stepping back several paces. He could feel the lip of the cliff at his back as he lay there, curled on his side.

"….ewwwissssewiiissssss…"

"Savor your vengeance." The Spirit purred. "You've earned it."

The skeleton lowered his head, and charged at Arthur, pink flames flaring from its heels.

"Llllewiiiiiisssss…" Arthur's eyes closed as his body tensed for the final impact.