Chapter 15: Screaming

Day Six at the Haunted House

Dave hugged Rey close to him as Rey finished the story, rubbing his back and glaring at Shawn.

"Satisfied? You nearly made him leap out of his skin again. Is that good enough for you?!"

Shawn nodded silently, ashamed of making Rey relive such gruesome events.

"I hope you're proud of yourself," Batista said bitterly and looked down at Rey, who suddenly seemed very tired, and very fragile, leaning limply up against his friend's chest.

"Rey, I never even heard you scream, buddy, what happened? How did you get outside so quickly?"

"I bolted," Rey said simply, shaking.

Batista frowned in thought. "But I never heard you upstairs when you must have seen it happen. I saw you go up there, but I didn't hear you at all."

Rey shook his head. "I don't scream."

Batista's eyes widened. "What?"

Rey shrugged.

Triple H shook his head, too impressed for words. "You win the cajones contest there, Rey. Whoo boy…seeing that shit and not screaming…count me out."

Shawn stared at the luchador. "Are you serious?"

Rey blinked. "What? What's the big deal? Some people don't scream, it's like a…"

Rey frowned. "Rareza… excentricidad…No sé decir esto," he muttered to himself. The last part meant "I don't know how to say this."

Batista raised his eyebrow at Rey's translation problem, waiting for it to work itself out.

Rey perked up. "A quirk. It's a quirk I have. Some people don't ever hum songs. I don't scream."

"Not at scary movies? Nothing? Nothing makes you scream?" Shawn pressed.

Rey shrugged again.

Batista was in awe. "Wait, now that you say that, I think I remember watching The Ring with you and you didn't scream. You're right, you jump and flinch and all that other stuff, but I've never heard you scream."

Rey gave a harrowed sigh. "Well, breaking the fourth wall is not that scary, Dave, sorry. I don't think so, anyway."

Shawn shrugged. "Maybe he's just got a bad concept of his in-ring persona and he doesn't know how to break the fourth wall himself. Maybe he can't break character because he's pulling a Tom Cruise and playing himself as his in-ring persona."

"I am not pulling a Tom Cruise you bitchy old pervert! Shut the fuck up!" Batista shot back.

"Sorry, should I…do that…?" Rey asked, embarrassed. "Should I scream? Is that creepy that I don't, or…?"

Triple H shook his head. "Oh, no. definitely not, Rey. We're not knocking your uh…"

"Quirk," Punk suggested.

"Yeah," Triple H continued. "We're not knocking your quirk. We're actually jealous."

Punk eyed Batista. "You look like you wouldn't be the type to scream."

Batista dropped his eyes. "Well, I do. I wish I didn't."

Rey smiled gratefully at the comment.

"Rey?" Triple H asked to confirm.

Rey thought about it. "What was that movie with the birds attacking that lady? I thought it was weird, but Dave was scared of pigeons for like a month after that. What was that called?"

"'The Birds'," Batista admitted, shuddering. "Ugh."

"Yeah, sorry to tell you, but you screamed really loud at one part of that," Rey confessed.

Batista shook his head. "Oh, I'll own up to that. Birds are freaky little fuckers when they work together to murder people, but evidently you didn't think so."

"It was weird and disturbing, I don't know if it was scary," Rey argued tiredly.

He shivered and slumped against his friend again.

"Uh…my body…feels…sore…" Rey murmured. Dave hugged him and would have hoisted the blanket up around his shoulders but it was literally a security blanket to Rey right now. It was the only thing covering his naked lap and as tempting as it was to bypass it, Dave had to respect the security it represented to Rey.

He looked down at the little guy's lap and swallowed hard.

Rey had been shifted so close to him so fast that the blanket had slipped down. Rey was almost visible. Batista's mouth watered. He wished he could slip the blanket down just half an inch further.

He knew Rey must have been beautiful. So strong and beautiful…

He shook himself.

"Are you all right, Rey?"

A tear streaked down Rey's cheek and he shook his head. "He's going to find me. Sylvia's father is going to find me. He'll kill me, Dave, he will…"

Dave's eyes flashed fiercely. "No he won't. I'm not leaving you alone. I'll stay with you all night. If you need to eat or drink or go to the bathroom, I'll stay with you. He won't get to you."

Rey gulped and hesitantly reached up his hand and spread his palm over Dave's chest, hugging him. "You really think you can keep a seven foot tall axe-carrying psychopath away from me?" he asked doubtfully.

Batista snorted. "The only big, scary guy allowed around you is me, you got that?"

Rey looked up at him and smiled faintly. "Got it."

Batista patted Rey's back a little possessively like he was a bear defending its mate.

"Rey," Punk began carefully. "I think that the haunting you saw, the murder scene, was a residual haunting."

Rey blinked at him. "You mean there's more than one type?"

Punk nodded.

"Jesus, Punk where do you get all these fun facts?" Triple H demanded.

"I watch TV and actually pay attention to it," Punk said dryly.

Triple H was the type of person whose mind turned to mush when he was watching TV. Or else he'd become narcoleptic and fall asleep in front of it, regardless of the time of day.

Rey smiled a little. It gave him a small sense of normalcy to see all the guys arguing again.

"Anyway, on Ghost Hunters they say that there are three basic types of hauntings. The first is an intelligent haunting. This is like how you usually meet Sylvia's ghost. She talks to you and interacts with you directly. She can see you and hear you and be affected by present events even though she died so long ago. She has a human personality."

Rey nodded. "And I could touch her. It felt like dry ice to touch her, so I didn't try to more than once or twice, but that's what she felt like."

Punk's pupils dilated slightly, always fascinated by that. He shook himself out of the reverie and kept going with the explanations. "Well, yeah, so Sylvia is usually an intelligent haunting. The second type is what it sounds like you saw tonight. A residual haunting."

Rey tensed up.

"That means that the ghosts can't interact with you. They're stuck in the past and they're just replaying an event before you. You can't affect its outcome. A lot of times people see murder scenes because the murder is why the ghosts refuse to rest in peace. And they want to tell someone what happened to them. So they keep replaying it until they can be put to rest. You saw Sylvia's murder because that's why she's haunting this house."

"But you said they can't interact with me when it's a residual haunting. How do you explain when Sylvia held my hand?"

Punk shrugged. "Maybe she briefly came back into the present and recognized you. There are some cases where ghosts briefly break from the reenactment to recognize the living."

Rey shuddered. "But I couldn't feel her except for when she squeezed my hand. So maybe it was residual..."

He looked back up at Punk. "And her father? What type of haunting would her father's ghost be considered as?"

"It could be the third type; demonic. It's where the ghost can interact with you and is hostile. Sometimes it's human and sometimes it's inhuman, but it has an ill will. It tries to hurt people."

"Puede a dios nos protégé," Rey whispered and swallowed, thinking.

"Jesus Cristo, this house has all three?" he asked disbelievingly. He shook his head. "God, no wonder they couldn't tear this building down. Her father must be the one who pushes people down the stairs whenever they try it."

Batista nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"But that means- the stair accidents and the fact that he tried to come after me- that means that he's haunting this place, too! He's in here somewhere!" Rey hissed. And then his eyes widened in realization.

"It wasn't just a one-time thing! He's been here this whole time!"

Rey scrambled, panicked.

Batista gripped onto Rey, sensing the luchador would take off again.

He pressed his weight down as gently as he could on the smaller man's shoulders, immobilizing him. But Rey shook and instinctively strained, trying to break free.

"Settle," Dave said bracingly, not wanting to crush the little guy.

"Settle down."

Rey caught his breath after a moment and Batista rubbed his collarbone with his thumbs.

Rey shut his eyes and came back to himself. "Sorry. Sorry, Dave," he said quietly, feeling faint. He hardly knew why he'd tried to move again, but he was glad Dave was there to stop him.

"I…just scared, I think. Sorry."

Batista nodded. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. I understand."

Rey looked back at his friend, his eyes wide in spite of himself, in spite of his exhaustion. They looked like full moons made of dark chocolate brown. He looked so pretty and so afraid at the same time that Batista couldn't help but pity him.

"You look like a deer in the headlights, buddy," Dave murmured.

There was a pause.

And he flushed, thinking that he shouldn't have let that slip out because it might have sounded too romantic.

But Rey smiled. "I like deer."

Batista brightened, grinned, and chuckled. "That's so like you to say that. Always the optimist, hunh?"

Rey gave an airy chuckle. "It doesn't hurt to be."

Batista patted his shoulder and gave him a half-hug.

Rey looked down at himself suddenly and pulled up the blanket around his waist securely. "God, you nearly let me stand up and flash everybody, there. What was I thinking?"

Batista laughed. "Why do you think I made you sit down so quickly?"

Rey shook his head and sighed at himself.

Batista smiled at Rey's modesty and his eye-rolling that he would've been the cause of his own embarrassment.

Dave turned his eyes reluctantly away from Rey and looked at Punk.

"But, uh what about the-"

Punk put a finger to his lips; shaking his head and making his jet black hair shake and fall back against his neck. "Don't talk about him."

Punk whipped his gaze toward the luchador, and Rey blinked. "And don't think about him, Rey. I know it's hard, because he scared you pretty badly, but you can't think about him. Hostile ghosts have to be summoned or disturbed by people. If you think of him then you might lead him to you."
Rey's eyes went wide. "Lead him to me?" he said softly, stunned.

"Well, aren't we disturbing him enough just by staying in his house?" he demanded, fidgeting.

"You are not going out in that rain again. Don't even think about it," Batista warned, shuffling over, insinuating that he could hold him down again if necessary.

Rey looked at the floor and messed with the fringe of his blanket.

"Aren't we disturbing him just by being here?" the small man asked again.

Punk shrugged. "He didn't come after you before. If you keep him out of your mind then he shouldn't come back."

Rey swallowed. "I don't know about that. He looked pretty determined to kill me. Like I'm the only witness to Sylvia's murder and he doesn't want me to tell anyone about it."

Batista held Rey close. "He's not going to get to you. Even if he shows up again, he's not going to get to you."

Rey shook his head, unconvinced.

"Well, I'll be your second line of defense, Rey," Triple H volunteered and smiled tiredly.

Rey smiled back gratefully. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll be your third," Punk said, smiling pityingly at the luchador. He was looking at Rey the way a scientist gazes at a lab rat and pities it for having what may be an inevitable demise.

Rey smiled back anxiously, hoping that Punk would drop that look. His natural instinct was to smile broader at someone that started to frown at him. It was an almost apologetic way of acting. But it usually worked. It was one of those responses unique to Rey that charmed people to him. He didn't realize no one else did this. That people usually met hatred with more hatred.

You think that ghost's going to kill me, too. I know you do. Rey thought.

"Th-thank you," he said, stammering. "I have a heavyweight security detail, now."

Punk softened and looked at Rey a little more gently, recognizing that he'd frightened the poor thing. "You'll be all right, Rey."

He shuffled forward, reached out and set his hand against the Latino's cheek, watching him warmly now. "Yeah, you'll be all right."

Batista flinched and frowned, not liking Punk being so familiar with Rey's face.

He tensed further and his eyes flashed as he saw Punk smoothing his thumb across the firm, round bone in Rey's beautiful cheek. He knew Rey's skin was soft as pearl and he hated anyone else to touch it.

Rey was relieved, though, and didn't notice the familiarity as romantic. "I hope I will be too, man."

And he leaned forward and Punk knelt closer to him to spare Rey having to move much in his depleted state.

And Batista bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood as the two embraced. He knew he shouldn't have thought of it as at all intimate; Rey was so affectionate with his friends that to a stranger's eyes he seemed to have hundreds of lovers who he hugged close on a daily basis. But that wasn't true. Rey was just sweet.

Batista wished that Rey was sweet to fewer people, though.

And the little man and Punk couldn't part from each other soon enough for his taste.

But much to his joy, Rey shuffled back to his side right away, holding the blanket closed at his back.

"Are you cold, buddy?" he asked Rey fondly as the luchador laid his side back against his own and he wrapped his arm around him.

Rey nodded sleepily.

Punk yawned. "Who's taking the couches?"

"I call this one," Shawn said, getting into the one on the left side of the fireplace.

"I sleep better on the floor," Triple H said, shrugging. He spread out his sleeping bag and plopped down.

"I bet you do, you caveman," Batista said, laughing a little.

Triple H stuck out his tongue at him and lay down, pulling up the covers.

Batista turned to Rey. "You want a couch?"

Rey shook his head. "I'd like to stay close to the fireplace. It feels better."

Batista nodded. He'd been ready to argue with Rey if he didn't accept a couch but getting the heat from the fire seemed like a good reason for him to stay on the floor.

"I'll stay down here with you."

"Dave, you don't have to. I'll be fine. If you want a couch you should get on one, I'm not going to get up and run again. I won't."

"You don't know that," Batista argued softly. "You didn't know you were outside at first until I pulled you in."

Rey exhaled and caved. "Okay. You should probably stay with me, then."

So Batista let Punk take the other couch.

"Night, everybody," Triple H announced.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow, my love…" Shawn said jokingly.

Even in his current state, Rey managed to roll his eyes.

"Sweet dreams," Punk said quietly and they all nodded in agreement.

"Sweet dreams…" Triple H murmured and promptly fell asleep.

Punk nodded off on the other couch minutes later.

Batista sat up with Rey, who seemed afraid to go to sleep just yet.

Rey exhaled through his nose after a while and went towards the fireplace and took up the pair of fresh sweatpants that Dave had brought him. He tucked them under the blanket and hoisted them over his feet before sliding into them.

"Going commando, are we?" Shawn teased half-heartedly.

"Leave me alone," Rey muttered and turned his back to HBK, lying down and propping his head up on his arm.

Dave looked daggers at Shawn Michaels.

"I'll go get our pillows," Dave said quietly and snuck off, tucking the blanket over Rey's shoulder before he stood.

Rey listened to the fire crackle and Triple H and Punk breathing. Punk was quieter, even in his sleep. No surprise there.

Rey felt a pang of guilt for letting himself feel at peace for even a moment. He shouldn't. Not while sweet little Randy Orton, and lovable Jeff Hardy were missing. Not while the perplexing but interestingly conversational Jericho and Edge were gone. Not while the slightly abrasive and crazy big old John Cena wasn't here.

Rey felt like he was supposed to be missing them.

Or missing Sylvia. It felt like a sin to not be praying for Sylvia's soul to pass away. Not only had the poor thing been tortured and murdered by her own father, but she'd ended up as a ghost. Rey couldn't help but feel like he was somehow the accomplice to her murder after witnessing it so closely.

He shut his eyes. "Please forgive me for not protecting you, baby girl, I'm so sorry…" Rey whispered.

Her soul was chained to this house. He hoped she would hear him somehow through these walls.

"I'm sorry, Sylvia…" Rey sniffed. "Some friend I turned out to be."

Rey wiped his eyes as he heard Batista's footsteps. Dave had brought down all of their things; that's why he'd taken so long.

Rey had started to worry that he might have disappeared too. Thank God he hadn't. Rey felt like he needed Dave now more than ever.

"Every fucking time he gets settled, you rile him up again," Batista whispered intensely to Shawn when he returned and thought everyone else had bedded down for the night.

"He's scared, he nearly froze to death out there, and he's exhausted. All I'm trying to do is protect him and calm him down. What is you problem?!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll lay off! Jesus!" Shawn Michaels conceded, irked that he had to give up.

Rey didn't give any sign that he was awake and that he could hear them. He thought that he'd have to tell Shawn off himself in the morning, if he survived that long.

Batista set all their bags down and rustled over with both their sleeping bags in hand, their pillows tucked in between his biceps and his sides.

Batista had brought practically dozens of blankets.

Rey heard the big, clumsy man kneel down behind him and lean over him.

"Rey," Batista whispered softly. "Rey?"

Rey turned over to face him. "Yeah, Dave?"

"I brought you your pillow," he whispered, handing it to him.

Rey took it and lay down, turning away again.

"Rey, do you want your sleeping bag? That might warm you up a little better than just the blanket."

"Okay," Rey caved and sat up.

They spread out their bedding and Rey lay down on top of his bag without unzipping it. He didn't really want to sleep. The instant he felt warm he knew he would drift off. And he wanted to delay that pleasure for a while. The guilt over Sylvia and losing the guys was gnawing at him as thoroughly as the cold was.

Batista didn't insist that Rey get into the bag. He didn't get into his, either. But he hadn't been out in that chilling rain as long as Rey had, so feeling cold wasn't as much of an issue with him.

"You don't want another blanket, either, buddy?"

"No," Rey said quietly, but firmly.

"Rey, I have plenty. You should take a couple."

"I said no, Dave."

Batista knew better than to argue with the little guy. He was too stubborn to reason with.

"Rey, how are you feeling?" Batista whispered.

Rey rolled over and looked at him. "Like I signed my own death warrant by agreeing to come out here. You?"

Batista smiled sadly. "Yeah. Same here."

There was a pause.

Rey seemed exhausted, but so frightened and regretful that he also appeared somewhat wired. Like he was overtired and acutely aware of every noise in the night, every creak of this old house.

Rey flinched when he saw Dave yawning. The last thing he wanted to be right now was alone and awake in a deranged haunted mansion.

"Dave, can we talk for a while? I-I don't want to go to sleep yet."

"Sure. Of course. What do you want to talk about, Rey?"

Rey opened his mouth but he couldn't think of anything to say so he just closed it again.

"I don't know."

Batista smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, buddy, I'll think of a topic. You just sit still for a spell, okay?"

Rey nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, Dave," he said, relieved that Batista didn't decide to give up on helping him stay awake a while longer just because there was nothing to talk about. Or maybe there was too much to talk about but not enough of it was happy.

"Rey…" Batista said after a moment. "Why do you think Michelle was afraid of Sylvia?"

Rey sat up and stared at Batista. Batista stayed in a reclining position on his side, his head in his hand. He looked like a male Cleopatra except his couch was a sleeping bag. He blinked sleepily at Rey, amused. "Did I hit a nerve?"

"I don't know. Do you…" Rey thought for a second. "Dave, do you think that Sylvia and Michelle look alike?"

Batista shrugged. "That's hard to tell, you'd have to stand the two of them next to each other."

Rey nodded. "Yeah. Or compare photographs of them."

Then he jolted like he'd been struck by lightning.

"That might actually work better," Batista agreed.

"Dave, I can make that happen."

"Make what happen?"

"Compare photographs! I may not be able to bring Michelle down here or be able to find Sylvia, but I found a photograph of Sylvia and her mother in the attic! And Sylvia gave me a photo of Michelle that Michelle had given to her when she was here! So we can compare them!"

Batista's eyes widened. "Holy shit…" he thought that over for minute.

"Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that Michelle left that photograph with Sylvia, Rey. Maybe she was hoping one of the guys would find it and compare it to the other one!"

Rey nodded. They were assembling a whole working theory now.

"If Michelle looks like Sylvia then what do you think that would mean? Is she afraid of herself?" Rey asked, his heart beating out of his chest in excitement.

"Keep in mind that Michelle's an adult, Rey. And Sylvia's still a child. So they aren't gonna look a lot alike. I don't think if they look alike, that is that Michelle would be scared by someone looking like she does now."

Rey nodded.

"She'd be scared by a child who looked like it could be her kid," Batista suggested.

"Michelle could be scared that Sylvia resembles her when she was a girl," Rey added.

Batista nodded. "Now, that is probably it. But we'd have to compare photos of Michelle as a girl and Sylvia. And the picture of Michelle you have is current. Michelle as an adult."

Rey swallowed. "Maybe its…well, I don't know, but we should still try to see if they look alike."

"But that sure as hell would explain a lot if that is the case that the two look a lot alike," Batista said, agreeing.

Rey nodded.

"I have the photo of Michelle, but we need to go see Sylvia's photo. It's in the attic, Dave, we need to go look at it."

Batista exhaled tiredly. "Rey, let's do that in the morning. We'll all go up to the attic together, okay? Just not tonight. I'm not really up for fighting off the boogeyman tonight."

Rey gave a small smile. "I know, I know. In the morning."

"Should we look before or after we check the basement?" Rey asked quietly.

Batista exhaled. "Don't think about the basement now, Rey. You heard Punk. Don't think about that ghost. Just empty your mind."

Rey swallowed. "That's easier said than done."

Batista sighed. "I know, buddy. I know. You had a rough day. I know. Why don't you lie down, now?"

"I'm not sleepy, Dave, I-" Rey protested.

"Just lie down. Maybe you'll surprise yourself and fall asleep by accident."

Rey frowned and gave in. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The fire had almost died out completely now.