Chapter 7: Homecoming

Sam slowly opened her eyes, trying to blink the blurriness of sleep away. She slowly sat up, stretching her arm and immediately wincing.

"Ow." She mumbled. She rubbed her face and tried to remember what time she fell asleep. The bed she was in was so very comfortable and she didn't really feel like getting up yet.

Her eyes were drifting shut again and she sighed, remembering images of...ghosts? She chuckled sleepily. "What a strange dream."

"It wasn't a dream." A male voice answered back. Her eyes shot open, sleep suddenly forgotten as she leapt out of the bed. An annoyed looking white-haired ghost was sitting in a chair across from her, legs crossed. His bright aura was the only light in the room.

"Who the hell are you?" Sam asked, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. It probably wasn't all that convincing. His freaky green eyes were very pointedly not looking at her.

"I'm the guy who saved you from getting eviscerated by a gaggle of homicidal cheerleaders...and oh, I don't know...a couple hundred other ghosts." She remembered him now, he had whispered a warning in her ear and then nearly blew her eardrums out.

"Why?" She demanded. "And what was that crazy screaming thing you did?" She had the sudden thought that maybe she shouldn't be questioning a ghost who had done something that powerful.

"First question: I don't particularly like when people get murdered. Second question: Doesn't matter what I did because it worked." Sam frowned. He was kind of an asshole, wasn't he?

"So you're not going to kill me?" She asked hesitantly.

"No, but it doesn't really matter seeing as you've been trying really, really hard to get yourself killed, huh?" He said, his eyes narrowing. "Clearly you don't need me to do it for you."

"Are you...lecturing me?" She realized. He finally turned to look at her directly. "You're mad at me." She accused. His eyes seemed to burn even more impossibly bright.

"I think it's incredibly stupid of you to come here, yes. It's even more stupid to barely make it out alive the first time and then decide 'Oh jeez, I should walk right back into the town full of angry ghosts.' I'd say that it's offensively stupid."

"Well if you're just so eager for me to leave, why don't you fly me out of here right now?" She asked. He quirked an eyebrow and started tapping his foot. Oh, he was very irritated with her.

"Didn't you already go over this with that Tucker kid? I can't leave Amity, same as the other ghosts." He answered.

"Well can't you take me out to the border? I can leave myself if you get me that far. Even if the gate is locked already, I could climb over if you covered me." She asked. "You seem to be able to hold the others off pretty decently." She added, hoping that flattery might make him less moody. He sighed through his nose.

"There are quite literally a couple thousand ghosts in Amity, if not more. About the same number as its population before everything went to shit." He began. "What I did on that field...It can do a lot of damage but not that level of damage." He stood up in one fluid motion. "Besides, it takes a lot out of me. I'll be drained for the next couple of days, so I wouldn't be of much use to you any time soon."

"So, what are you saying... I'm on my own getting out of Amity?" She asked.

"No, what I'm saying is that you're not going anywhere. You're stuck here."

She stared at him in shock, searching for answers in his face. His hazy, glowing features made it hard to read him.

"What?" She asked finally.

"Sam, you just pissed off the entire town. Escaping once was a miracle, the moment you stepped foot in Amity again every single ghost here knew about you. And they really don't want you to leave. They're not going to let you go anywhere without tearing you into ribbons, and there's really not much I can do to stop that from happening." He ran his gloved fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry. You're trapped." He actually sounded sorry, too.

Sam felt tears starting to form and she quickly blinked, refusing to cry in front of this ghost.

"So, what now? I stay...here? Wherever this is? Just wait for them to come 'tear me into ribbons'" Her voice was raising with each word. "Some hero you are." Her tone was growing poisonous, even as she knew she wasn't being fair. It was her own fault that she was here, and he had saved her.

The strange ghost looked away, breaking their eye contact again.

"I don't know." He said. "If you stay here, they won't come after you. Ghosts are territorial, and they'll leave you alone as long as you don't go too far from my haunt. That's the best I can do for you right now." She backed into the bed, collapsing back into the soft mattress. She felt her body begin to tremble as the reality of the situation came crashing down on her. She hugged her arms around herself and cursed mentally as a tear escaped without her permission.

The ghost rubbed his shoulder awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to comfort her. She noted that as an oddly human thing to do.

"Look, Sam..." He started.

"How do you know my name?" He scowled, and she quickly stared at her shoes, trying to not irritate him further.

"Everyone here knows your name, you escaped death. You and that teacher."

"Mr. Lancer..." She said softly. She really let him down, didn't she? This was going to break his heart. He would have discovered her empty room hours ago and she'd probably be reported missing by Aubrey in a matter of days.

"Yeah." The ghost said, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "We'll try to figure this out, I promise I'll do whatever I can to keep you safe until then." 'Which is never 'she thought.

"Um. Follow me." He said, sounding unsure. She looked at him, still not sure how much she was willing to trust him. "I promise I don't bite." He added with a small smile. She stared at his face, analyzing it. 'He has freckles' she noted. Sam decided he was trustworthy enough.

"Alright." She said. She got up and trailed after him as he opened the door. She noticed that he was walking with his feet on the ground rather than floating, though it seemed to cause him some level of effort. She realized that he was probably doing so to make her feel more at ease. The hall he led her through was massive, the floors were an expensive mahogany and the ceiling was impressively high and arched, with elaborate designs painted on them.

"Wait a second...I know this place." She spun in a circle, every little detail firing off memories in her mind. "This is my old house." Her voice was thick with emotion. "I didn't recognize the guest bedroom, but I lived here." Her hand covered her mouth and her knees felt weak.

"Is that alright with you?" The ghost asked uneasily. She turned to look at him. He was turning out to be much kinder than he first seemed. Ghosts had mood swings like that, didn't they?

"Yeah." She nodded. "It's fine, it's- it's just a lot, you know?" She wiped her eyes. "Why are you haunting this place?"

"It was one of the only empty houses and it's big." He shrugged.

"And you knew that this was my house?" She demanded.

"Yes. There was a lot of talk about the Mansons leaving Amity."

"Who are you? Why are you helping me? I don't even know you, I was just a kid when I left. You're, what...around my current age?" His eyes gleamed.

"Yeah, just about I'd imagine."

"I couldn't have known you then, when..."

"When I died?" He snapped. She had made him upset again.

"I'm sorry." She responded. She didn't know what else to say.

"It is what it is. Keep following me." She nodded and let him lead her up a grand staircase and down a long hall. She knew exactly where he was taking her.

"This was my room." She said. He tried to hide a smirk.

"I know. I've been in this house for years now, so I've explored every inch of it. Someone carved the name 'Sam' into the wall behind the bed in this room. I'd imagine that was you."

"I got in a lot of trouble for that one." She replied sheepishly.

"Are you sure it was for that or the more vulgar words next to your name?"

"My mother didn't really like that either. She said I was single-handedly driving the value of the house down." She smiled at the memory. "I was mad about moving, so I guess I was taking it out on the house."

"Well, you can move back in for now. I already got you some clothes and bedding while you were asleep." She was surprised by this act of kindness. What kind of ghost thinks about things like sleeping and dressing?

"Thank you. Wait, how long was I out?"

"About six hours, I'd say."

"That long?!" She said. "It's the middle of the night by now. People are going to start looking for me now, right?" She asked desperately. "That security guard let me in this morning, he would know that I never came back out. They'll have to come get me!"

The strange ghost looked at her like he was about to deliver horrible news, like a terminal diagnosis or the death of a family member.

"Not necessarily. This place...it has a way of tricking people. I'm sure you've noticed." He looked at her meaningfully.

"Yeah, my phone doesn't really work here. Time goes by fast."

"Exactly. It's the same when people come here and go missing. It takes weeks, months, if ever for anyone to figure out that they were gone."

"But the cameras..."

"Just as unreliable as your phone." He said grimly. "I'm sure you hadn't heard anything about all the people who go missing here before you came."

"Well, I knew some people trespassed..." She said. "But they come back."

"Very few of them do. Many more get trapped or tricked and no one even remembers that they came here. And the cameras never catch anything." From the way he didn't add more, she knew exactly what their fates must have been.

"But what about the people who come to inspect things? Who approved quarantine being lifted."

His eyebrows scrunched up in thought.

"I don't know exactly, but I have a theory. This town wants to claim more people. What better way to do so than opening back up again? It might even plant the idea into people's minds on purpose." She shook her head.

"That doesn't make sense, they want to demolish the whole town. Wipe it off the map and start fresh." The ghost leaned against her doorframe, his shoulders hunched.

"They can try." He said wearily. She stared at him, searching for anything else there that he wasn't saying. He didn't elaborate further.

"What am I going to eat then?" She asked. "I'll starve or die of thirst."

"No, you won't actually. It's kinda hard to explain, but most stuff in this town is preserved pretty well by the ghostly energy, it permeates everything."

"Ecto-energy." She corrected. He frowned.

"I guess you've met the Fentons."

"I knew their son." She said. His eyes seemed to mist over.

"And?" He asked quietly.

"He was very sweet." Her voice broke just a bit. "I miss him."

"Well, as I said the food is fresh enough to eat." He said curtly. "I just have to purify it of the ecto-energy so it's safe for you. Take some time, freshen up. There's a first aid kit on the bed too. I'll check on you later." He seemed eager to leave as he pushed himself off the doorframe and turned away from her.

"Wait! One more question for now." He looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright again.

"Yes?"

"What should I call you? What's your name?" She realized that she had never asked and he never told her. He was silent for a long moment and she wondered if he would just ignore her, until he finally spoke.

"Phantom." He answered. And with that he left.

Sam sat on her old bed and stared at the wall. The room was dark now without Phantom's presence. She ran her fingers over the comforter and found that the bedding was unfamiliar, but true to the ghost's word they were clean. He must have stolen them from another house or a store perhaps. A bag stuffed with what she assumed were clothes was left near her nightstand, but she couldn't tell much more without a light. A sudden thought occurred to her: if ecto-energy was keeping the town in a state of suspension...she stood up and walked to where she knew the light switch was. She flicked it on, thinking of how the exit sign in the school had illuminated as the ghosts were stirring. Sure enough, the lights flickered on. She could now see every detail in her old room and she felt overwhelmed by the thought of being back here after almost a decade. She crouched near her bed and felt around the wall until her fingers grazed over the carving that Phantom referenced. It was there, plain as day.

What a strange day it had been. She was stuck here, likely indefinitely and with a ghost that she didn't even recognize from her days in Amity. Her eyebrows knitted together, he must be hiding something. Tucker had been one of her best friends and he had been nearly violent towards her. And he had clearly abandoned her today, just like he said he would if she ever came back. Even if Phantom's mood was...a little unpredictable he was treating her far too kindly for a stranger, much less a ghost. She ran his features over and over again in her mind. He was college age, like her. Tall, lean...his facial features were blurry like the other ghosts but he had those faint little glowing freckles across his nose and cheeks. White hair, unnaturally so as well as those intensely green eyes. The same color as the ectoplasm that had dripped from Paulina's arm. That must have been him who shot her and who tackled Dash. That meant he had saved her three times that day.

But who was he? She ran through every single face and name from her old life. He couldn't have been anyone she knew. She couldn't place his face and yet it seemed so oddly familiar, as if she had seen it in a long-forgotten dream. Why was he so different than the other ghosts who so clearly hated her? She moaned in frustration and threw herself face first into the bed. Her head was pounding, and her body ached. This was a question for later. Now she just had to figure out how she was going to get out of this hopeless mess.