hey, hiccop here. here's part two. have some angst i guess. Trigger warnings for implied suicide. if you see any problems feel free to point them out. cross posted form tumblr. again i wouldn't suggest reading before bed.

Now he just had to do something about this body… The window, he decided. Carefully, he picked up Spencer's limp corpse, his ghost sleeping soundly as if nothing had happened. Billy didn't remember many details of his death, but he did remember becoming a ghost. His reaction was much the same as Spencer's. He saw his body, wondered what was going on, and then he fell asleep. He had been in the hospital when it happened, he wasn't sure why. When he woke up he was in his house and a while later the Wrights have moved in. Becoming a ghost was a strange and scary experience for Billy, but he would be there for Spencer, to make it better.

He had hoisted Spencer's body over his shoulders to free up his hands so he could open the window, and then he deftly tossed it out. It landed with a sickening yet strangely satisfying squelch on the ground, viscera and gore splattering from the fresh corpse. Ooh, did he feel sorry for the poor chump who had to clean that up. Billy closed the window and grinned, turning to Spencer's sleeping form. He drifted back over to the bed, and pulled the boy down from the air, settling him neatly on the bed, and curling up around him.

This was how it should be. Spencer's ghost was still in its PJ's, the clothes he had changed in, but with a little practice he could get back into his preferred outfit in no time. And Billy would be here to help him. Spencer wouldn't have to spend months alone in an empty house. Spencer wouldn't have to ask why no one was answering his calls, why a strange man was showing off his home, why distant relatives he hasn't seen since he was 13 were wondering around his home. Spencer wouldn't have to wonder what some squirrely teen was doing filming him trying to scare his family off, wouldn't have to wonder why he couldn't see him, wouldn't have to wonder why the teen wasn't terrified when he accidently slipped on one of his own necklaces, why the only thing the teen would do was say 'cool' when after months of haunting he finally found the ghost. Billy would make sure Spencer would never have to go through that.

Billy always considered Spencer his responsibility in some form; when he first moved in he considered it his responsibility to chase Spencer out of his home, but now he was his responsibility in a whole new way. He would take care of this boy even if it killed him (again) because he loved him, no matter what. He loved him so much that he did everything in his power to keep Spencer safe, to take away his pain, and Billy was satisfied that he had achieved just that by turning him into a ghost permanently. Billy stroked the ghost boy's hair as he snuggled against him, sleeping soundly, comforted by Billy's false assurance that it was just a bad dream, comforted by Billy's melodious voice as softly sung "You Love Me, I Love Me More" only with the lyrics changed to fit the situation better.

"I love me," he crooned gently, sweetly into Spencer's hair, "I love you more, and that's the way it is girl." Slowly, Billy felt himself drifting off. He let sleep take him, satisfied in his efforts. When Spencer woke up Billy would explain everything. And Spencer would see it his way.

Hours passed. Spencer woke up to the sound of sirens. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He noticed that Billy had somehow curled around him in his sleep. "Dude, get off," he said as he shoved the specter away from him. It wasn't until his feet hit the floor that Spencer realized something was terribly wrong. Or rather, when his feet didn't hit the floor. He hovered a few inches off the ground and groaned loudly. "Billy, what did you do?"

Billy rubbed his eyes and looked at Spencer, grinning. "Nothin' bro, I just turned you into a ghost, that's all. You remember how fun it was, right?"

"Billy!" Spencer practically whined. The sirens were blaring again, almost as if they were right outside. What if someone was hurt? "Help me change back, I think something's going on outside."

Nervously, Billy glanced at the ceiling and scratched the back of his head. "No can do brojangles."

Spencer narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean 'no can do'?"

"Weeeellll," Billy rolled his neck as he drew out the word before settling on Spencer, "I made it permanent!"

Spencer was annoyed, "What the fluff do you mean perma-" he then realized, the sirens. Oh god, Billy wouldn't, would he? In a flash he remembered his dream last night. His body, he had woken up next to his body. And Billy said it was nothing, coaxed him back to sleep, but what if… No, Billy was his friend. Friends don't… do that to friends, friends don't.

But then again… Sometimes Spencer felt as though Billy wasn't all there. Maybe it was how he always was, maybe it was a product of being a ghost, but Billy tended to not think rationally. This was Billy Joe Cobra, the guy who thought you could find A-list actresses in just any old limo. He wouldn't put it past him to do something drastic but he didn't think he would ever, ever do something like that.

Spencer felt thick ectoplasmic tears welling up in his eyes. He looked at Billy, the guy he thought was his friend and could only whisper, "What have you done?" His head was spinning. He could hear faint sobbing coming from down stairs. He could make out the words "4 story drop" from his open window. He froze in place. He couldn't move. What had Billy done?

Billy saw his friend's distress. He was too busy thinking about the future fun and relaxing times to realize that the initial shock would be pretty bad. But he knew his bro, and he knew he would get over it. Carefully, lovingly, he pulled Spencer into a hug. "There there, lil brotato." He stroked the other boy's hair again. Spencer didn't know why, but he melted into Billy's touch. Shouldn't he hate him? Shouldn't he be shoving him away? Shouldn't he be doing something? He could only lean on Billy's shoulder and sob quietly. "Don't worry, bromeo" Billy whispered in Spencer's ear, "one day you'll understand. I did this for you."

Downstairs, the coroner bagged up Spencer's body. It really was a mess. Spencer's mother cried on her husband's shoulders. She should've seen the signs. They knew he wasn't his best when they moved. That's why they even decided to move into this place, instead of selling it. His parents had thought that the change of scenery would do Spencer good. But no, he just took a sharp turn down. What started as mild anxiety turned into a full blown something. What exactly, neither his mother nor his father could put their finger on. He started talking to himself, constantly locking himself in his room, he hardly hung out with his friends anymore. He seemed much happier though, so they let it slide, never even dreaming that it would come to… this.

They should have known, they should have reached out. Should've asked him how his day was more, should've shown more interest. But now, now it was too late to do any of that. They didn't even get to say goodbye.