2011
"Let me get this straight," Tabitha says, waving her hands a little to get the Harmons to back the fuck up. "You want me to help you guys get the new family out of the house before they're all brutally murdered?" Vivien and Ben share a look and then a nod, the way they did it all in unison only making it creepy. "So, we're basically Ghostbusters except in reverse?"
"Exactly," Ben confirms.
"And why should I help you guys do anything?"
"Well, there is the little matter of you forcing me to commit suicide."
"I hate to burst your bubble, but that's far from the worst thing I've done in this house." He gives her that patented Parent Stare, the one that makes teenagers—even dead ones—feel scolded without him having to say a word. "Fine, but only because I'm tired of making their son fly off his skateboard." You could only to that so many times without wanting to just break the stupid board in two and be done with it.
"Do you think you can get Tate on board," Vivien asks, arching a brow.
"Nope, he's still pining after your baby girl. You know, listening to sad music, reading depressing poetry, and killing small squirrels in the attic."
"Alright, well, we got most of the others to help out. I guess start wherever you want and don't kill anyone." Tabitha smirks, sauntering out of her old room and across the hall to the teenaged boy. He's pretty cute, maybe a year older than Tabitha had been when she died, brown hair dark and soft as it falls over his forehead, skin a light brown and smooth.
She kneels on the edge of the bed, bending down to start whispering in his ear all the delicious things waiting for him. The boy, Gabriel, gives a small groan and rolls onto his back, allowing her to run a hand over his chest. He isn't as filled out as some boys are, but he has a lithe skater's body that's hard and warm beneath her palm.
"You want that, don't you," she asks, lips brushing against the shell of his ear and making his shiver. "You want to wrap a girl up in your arms and show her just how strong you can be?" He moans, unconsciously arching under her hand. "Then you need to go wait for your parents outside. Leave your bags and meet them out in your car." His brow furrows, the persuasion not quite holding up as the house grows restless around them.
He jerks upright in bed, breathing in sharply as he spots someone behind her. Curious, Tabitha looks over her shoulder and spots Tate sitting in the rocking chair with one foot resting against the end of the bed.
"Bet I could tell you what you were dreamin' about," he states, looking far too comfortable in the chair.
"Goddamn it," Tabitha complains," can't you see I'm working?" Gabe jumps when she allows him to see her, brown eyes wide and frightened.
"Sorry, Tabby Cat, but I'm working, too." Tate's gaze returns to the alive teen, full of dull rage and the pain that's fracturing his heart as we speak. "You were dreaming about Violet, weren't you?"
"What the hell are you two doing in my room," Gabe demands, edging away from Tabitha.
"This used to be my room and then it was Violet's." Tate gives a small huff of laughter, tugging gently on one of his curls. "You wouldn't believe half the things I've done in this room with the girls I love. She was the first." He nods at Tabitha and Gabe spares her a look.
"Don't worry," she assures him with a smile," Tate doesn't mind sharing me from time to time." She takes one of Gabe's hands and rests it on her waist, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. It has some curl to it, but not as much as her brother's does. "Tell me something, have you ever been with a woman yet? I'll bet you're a virgin."
"Won't be for long if Tabby has her way."
"Don't worry," Gabe states, trying his best to stay calm as he yanked his hand back," I get it. I'll keep my hands to myself and I won't touch your girls."
"Nah, I don't think you understand at all." His gaze flickers to Tabitha and she can see the plan forming in his mind as if it were her own. He knows Violet thinks the new kid is interesting, he'll give her whatever she wants even if it isn't him. Tate wants to murder Gabe so that Violet can have a boyfriend. "Tabby, why don't you wait for us outside?" She opens her mouth to suggest Tate go fuck himself, but a scream cuts off her remark.
"Mom!" Gabe bounds off the bed, but Tate has him thrown to the ground before he even makes it to the door.
"You're not going anywhere!" Gabe's mom is screaming down the hall, but the others will keep her busy while Tabitha tries to control her twin. "You'll make Violet happy, I know you will."
"Tate," she says with a warning in her tone. "He's not Violet's type and you know it." She doesn't spare Gabe a second look as she steps over him and rests her hands on Tate's shoulders, making him meet her stare. "Baby, she likes the dark ones, she likes you. Gabe would just be boring for her."
"No, you're wrong. You're wrong!" He shoves her out of the way, her back hitting the wall hard enough for her to see stars.
"Fuck me," she groans, rubbing the back of her head where blood is welling to the surface. It's bad enough that she can't kill anyone tonight but being shoved by her own brother snaps the camel's back in fucking two. "Violet, get in here and control your wild dog!" She storms out of the room, not waiting around to see what happens between Tate and Gabe. A shrill scream gives her a second's warning before Gabe's mother comes running out of the master bathroom, jumping back against the wall when she spots Tabitha. "Stay here long enough and the house will kill you just like it did the rest of us."
"Stay away from me," she shrieks and starts sprinting down the hall. Ben and Tabitha meet up at the top of the stairs, both of them taking them two at a time and then walking over to the basement door.
"I'm so tired."
"You're only getting what you deserve," he mumbles as they start down the rickety stairs into the darkness. "This is punishment for all the people you've killed."
"I've only killed three people that wasn't self-defense, you know." She turns her head to look at him, reaching out to adjust the mask of the rubber suit that he wears. "The other three were abusers like Hugo."
"Come on, let's get this over with." They find the mother crouched in the basement, screaming her husband's name over and over again as she looks at the ghosts in fear. And who can possibly blame her? Tabitha's back in the dripping wet clothes she died in and Ben cuts an imposing form in the black latex.
"I was murdered," Taylor divulges, talking to the woman as Ben moves to the side of the room. "My twin brother did it because he hates being alone and he didn't want me to be alone either. What about you, lady? Do you want to die, too?"
"Stacy," cries her husband. Tabitha glances at him over her shoulder, grinning as Ben tackles him to the ground before he can reach her. Stacy charges forward, but it's all too easy for Tabitha to stop her with a simple punch to the stomach, the woman doubling over with a chocked gasp. It wasn't a hard punch, but it's just enough to leave her defenseless so that Ben can wrap his arms around her and pull her close. "No, leave her alone!"
"Why?" Miguel pushes Tabitha out of his way, but she appears in front of him again, making him jump back in fear. "I'm younger than she is, Miguel." She sidles up to him running a hand down his toned chest like she used to do to James March, her nails barely scratching him. "I bet I'm tighter than she is. Wouldn't you like to slam me against the wall and fuck me right here?"
"Back the fuck off, you freak!" He shoves her again and yanks his wife out of Ben's hold just in time for Vivien to come storming down the stairs.
"What the fuck," Vivien demands, looking at Ben and Tabitha like they're the real weirdos in the house. "They haven't even been here two days and you two are already terrorizing them?" Ben removes the mask and tosses it to the side, running a hand through his messy hair.
"Who the hell are you people?"
"He used to be my husband and she was the little skank from next door."
"Now I'm just the little skank that lives in the attic," Tabitha quips, wringing out the skirt of her nightgown. "She's just jealous that her husband would rather lock her away in the looney bin and fuck me instead of dealing with their issues." Vivien sends Tabitha her Mom Look and she shrugs, not seeing the big deal in lying now. "What? It's the truth and you know it."
Vivien strikes without warning when Ben's gaze lands on Tabitha, burying a knife in his chest and yanking downward. Latex and flesh alike split under the force, Ben letting out a cry of pain as his intestines fall out onto the floor. "Oh God, I've been wanting to do that since I caught you with Hayden." She throws the knife, the blade embedding itself in Tabitha's shoulder and making her fall to the ground with a shout.
"Fuck! A little warning would be nice!" With a wince, she stands and ignores the sound of a gunshot, pulling the knife out slowly and watching as her wound starts to heal itself. "Little advice," she tells the living couple still huddled together," don't fuck a crazy woman's husband because it just leads to awkward silences and random stabbings." Vivien and Ben rise up off the ground, their own wounds healing slower than Tabitha's as they all turn to face the couple.
"This is what this house does to you," Ben tells them solemnly.
"It takes all your reasons for living and grinds them into dust."
"Run," Vivien says hoarsely," while you're still able to." The words have barely left her mouth when the couple sprints out of the basement, yelling for their son and slamming doors in their haste to get away from the ghosts. It's quiet for a second, then none of them seem to be able to stop the laughing fit.
"Too bad we can't make a career out of this."
"Yeah, cause stabbing you two was really fun."
"I call dibs on stabbing ghosts next time someone moves in, though."
2012
Tabitha moves slowly through the house, following the sound of awful Christmas music until she enters the living room and finds the others. The Harmons and Moira are all gathered around the Christmas tree, Violet and Moira decorating while Ben and Vivien gush over their newest addition.
"Were you guys too impatient to wait for me and Michael or something," she asks with a smile.
"I didn't think Constance would let you have him," Vivien says when she notices them. The baby in Tabitha's arms gives Vivien a happy smile, all bundled up in his little reindeer sweater and pants, his little hands covered in mittens and a beanie keeping his head warm.
"It's easy to talk her into things when she's exhausted." After a year of being forced to work together, the Harmons and Tabitha have finally started getting along. She's nowhere near close to joining their little family, but at least they aren't the Capulets and Montagues anymore. "Besides, he's always on his best behavior when I've got him for the night." There's still that clinging sense of dread that pulls at her when she lays her eyes on her nephew, but the love she feels for him is stronger. "He looks a little like you, Vivien."
"Does he?" Tabitha moves to stand next to her, letting her see the way his cheekbones favored hers and the blue-gray eyes that belong to her. "He's as beautiful as his brother." Jeffrey is cradled in Ben's arms, as quiet as he usually is and completely relaxed.
"He's also a little handful somedays." Michael makes a sound of disgruntlement and Tabitha smiles down at him, bouncing him slightly to quiet him. "I figured that you'd like to see him every now and then since you're the one who gave birth to him." She sets him down, smiling wider as he grasps her fingers tightly and bounces in place by himself, not quite up to walking just yet.
"He'll be running around this place before too long," Ben says fondly.
"Yeah, he will, but he's not allowed out of our sight. I don't trust this house not to swallow him whole." As if he understands what she'd said, Michael tilts his head back and looks up at her with his wide eyes that are far too intelligent for a baby who's only one. It's like he knows things that he shouldn't, understands everything going on around him with a plan to use the information at a later date. It's the same way Tate looks at things. "Come on, little man," she says as she meets his gaze," let's go find your daddy."
It isn't hard to find Tate, the blond curled up in his favorite corner of the attic with his knees drawn up to his chest. He doesn't move until Michael pats his leg, then a bright smile makes his face light up and he quickly wraps Michael up in his arms. "Hey, Monster," Tate greets with a laugh, standing up and raising the baby over his head. "Did you have fun at Constance's?"
"Daddy," Michael shouts, bopping Tate lightly on his nose.
"That's right, I am your daddy." Tate moves to stand next to Tabitha, all of them positioned by a window so they can see the snow softly falling outside. "And who's that, Mikey?" Tate points at her and Michael holds out his arms until she takes him, one of his hands fisting in the material of her Christmas shirt.
"Mommy!" She stares at her nephew in shock for a moment, not expecting to be called that in the slightest. She'd figured Constance would have been teaching him to call her that, but obviously the baby fells otherwise. He'd called her gramma when she dropped him off earlier, waving bye until she was back in her house. "Mommy, lips!" One of his fingers taps Tabitha's bottom lip and the hopefulness overwhelms the surprise. Maybe he'll turn out normal if they just raise him right. Maybe he'll be okay after all."
"Sure, Monster," she nods," I can be your mommy." He rests his head against her shoulder, looking out the window while Tate and Tabitha lock gazes. He's smiling still, brown eyes glistening with happy tears as he takes in the sight of her holding Michael.
"Daddy, 'mere." Tate takes a step closer on instinct, Michael adjusting himself in her arms until he's able to grasp one of Tate's fingers and holds it tightly like a teddy bear. "My daddy." He looks up at Tabitha with his dimpled grin, puckering up and wiggling until she gives him the kiss he's waiting for. "Love, Mommy."
"I love you more, Mikey." He rests his head against her shoulder again, Tate wrapping his free arm around her waist so that she's forced to snuggle close to him. It's nice, Michael's warmth enough to make her feel like she's alive again. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend that Tate and Tabitha had never died and that Michael is their baby; he'd have her lips and eyes, Tate's slim nose and beautiful curls, and he'd be a gorgeous tan from spending an hour or so every other day at the beach.
And for that moment, the three of them watching the snow and listening to the Christmas songs drifting through the house, Tabitha really feels like they have a chance.