My brain felt seconds away from bluescreening. Somehow, Spooky was in my room! And also back from the dead? What?!

As the pint-sized tyrant groans and holds her nose as she stumbles her way to her feet, I wonder if this is yet another really vivid dream. Pinching myself usually doesn't work to verify this, (I feel pain in my dreams, lucky me) so I try to push my right index finger through my left palm. Try as I might, it won't go through. So, this is real. Great.

"…Damnit." I turn to face my second-greatest foe, [Bessie's the first greatest] my increasingly aware mind unhelpfully pointing out that I'm only dressed in an extra large men's' t-shirt and underwear.

"What are you doing in my room? How are you alive again? For god's sake, pinch your nose! You're bleeding all over yourself; it's disgusting."

The crazy preteen who should be six feet under and in the afterlife right now looks as confused and disoriented as I feel, but she does what I ask. It's not enough to save her dress, though; its once pure white now marred with uneven blotches of red.

"That last one's your fault," She says, and wow. It's really weird hearing her talk without the ghostly reverb. It's also more nasally because of the whole stopping her nosebleed thing.

I put my hands on my hips. "Sorry, not sorry. You were watching me sleep, and you have a knife. Gimme that."

In one swift movement, I hop forward and pluck the blade from Spooky's loose grip. "Hey!" I then put it on top of my wardrobe as far back as I can get it so Spooky can't reach it. My time at the Mansion has done wonders for my reflexes. I also take this opportunity to grab a pair of sweatpants lying on the floor, and I shimmy into them as I turn to face a now pouting Spooky.

"You still haven't answered my questions," I insist. I feel a lot more confident and intimidating now that I'm wearing pants. "How, and why, are you here?"

Spooky lets out a long, world-weary sigh, as if I'm the one being a nuisance here. "When I crossed over, I talked to this uh, what was it? Some sort of powerful entity? They said that the universe was breaking because of my—the mansion, and then they brought me back to life because, I don't know. I guess I'm supposed to help you fix it? Somehow?"

I can't help it. That explanation, accompanied by Spooky's on-brand awkward delivery of it, was enough for me to promptly burst out laughing. Or maybe it's because I hadn't gotten enough sleep; the sun wasn't even up yet. Spooky glowers, but I don't give a crap. "Ahahaha! That is the dumbest excuse I've ever heard."

"It was even dumber to live it," Spooky grumbles. "…die it? Whatever, that is really what happened."

I think about asking Spooky why I should believe her, but ultimately decide against it. There are more important things to focus on. "Riiight," I drawl. "And did this powerful entity that you spoke to provide any insight as to how to fix the universe?"

"Nope~" Spooky says simply, admiring her bloodied dress. I'm going to have to find her something else to wear.

"Great, of course." I then ask Spooky to turn around, so I can get dressed properly. She thankfully does so without complaint, and I change as quick as possible. "Alright I'm done; you can look now."

Spooky frowns when she sees my outfit. "Really? The same thing again?"

"First of all, it's iconic." I strike a pose. "Second, of all the things I've said about you, have you even once heard me say anything about that torn blue dress you always wore? Speaking of dresses, you're gonna have to change yours so it can be washed."

Spooky's eyes narrow. "That's not happening."

I facepalm. Hard. "If you think it looks scary, it doesn't. You just look like a slob who doesn't bother to clean bodily fluids off herself." Harsh, but justified. And fortunately, this makes her relent.

"Fine."

Trying to keep my eyes on the small girl who's ruined so many lives as I do so, I open up my closet and rummage inside. Mom's kind of bad about getting rid of things we no longer need, so I should be able to find something I've outgrown that should fit Spooky. I strike gold when I find a simple pink dress with white flowers all over it. It used to be super comfortable, but even so I'm not really a fan of dresses or pink so I didn't wear it often.

I pull the dress from its hanger and toss it to my uninvited guest. "Put that on."

Spooky makes a face, but does as I ask, tossing her soiled dress onto the bed. I grab it before any untried blood can get on the sheets." I need to put Spray-and-Wash on this," I explain. "You can either wait here or in the dining room while I do that, then we'll have breakfast and talk about this whole 'fixing the universe' thing."

Spooky mutters some unsavory things about me and how I can't order her around like this. But she opens my bedroom door and walks out. I follow not too far behind.

Trying to ignore Spooky making herself comfortable at the table, I hurry into the laundry room. I spray down all the bloodstains of Spooky's dress before tossing it in with a few other lightly colored things that needed to be washed. Mom'll be happy I'm helping her out with this, I figure. As I toss things into the washing machine, I can't help but wonder what this new development means, both for me and my friends.

With a jolt, I realize that my impromptu chore-completing session has caused me to leave Spooky alone longer than she ought to be, and I run back into the dining room, to be greeted with a terrible sight. Spooky stands hunched over my cake, (I'd forgotten it was on the table) nasty-looking steak knife in hand, inches away from dealing a devastating blow to the helpless dessert! This cannot stand, though it is the thing that reminds me: oh yeah, today's my birthday. I'd forgotten about that due to my surprise visitor.

I'm at Spooky's side in a matter of moments, and I bravely take the knife right out of her hand (this is going to be a running thing with us, isn't it?) saving the life of my beloved birthday treat. "Ah ah ah, the birthday girl gets the first piece."

Spooky starts to protest, but what I just said catches up with her. "It's your birthday?" She wonders. "Actually, uh, what day is it? Like, what's the date."

"November 3," I cheerfully proclaim as I make my way into the kitchen to replace Spooky's choice of blade for a more appropriate cake-cutting apparatus. Not even Spooky, uninvited though she may be, would stop me from enjoying this day.

"That's interesting," She mutters as I rummage through the silverware drawer. "I crossed over back in summer, I think? So it's uh, kinda odd Bob plopped me so far forward in time."

I freeze. "The entity's name is Bob?"

"That's what they called themself: B.O.B. Big, omnipotent being."

I facepalm with my left hand this time, since my right one's buried in sporks and ice cream scoopers. This story sounds more ridiculous by the second.

I return to the dining room seconds later with a proper cake server, as well as two plates and forks. I also bring a Mellow Yellow for me, my favorite soda, and a juicebox for Spooky. I figured seeing one again would annoy her. The cake is yellow, with a mixture of vanilla and lemon-flavored icing on top. Mom had felt bad about not being able to spend my birthday together and had baked it for me herself. Since no one else is here besides Spooky, I decide against doing the candles and singing, to which my stomach is deeply grateful.

I cut a huge piece of cake for myself, and a substantially smaller one for Spooky. She doesn't take issue with this save for a scowl, but the juicebox? That is what grants me a golden reaction.

"Are you kidding me?!" I'd not heard so much distress in the girl's voice save for the time she tried to murder me after Taker didn't.

If only I got this on video, I lament. I shrug, trying to look nonchalant as I sit down to enjoy my birthday cake. Well, one of my birthday cakes; I also had to start on the one baked by Ringu later today.

Spooky moodily unwraps the straw, stabbing it into the hole on the box as if it's her latest murder victim. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as I fill my mouth with cake until I look like a chipmunk. "Mmm!"

"So, uh," Spooky starts after taking a sip of her grape juice. "You sure you didn't, like, get any message from Bob yourself?"

"I o' know," I mumble around my cake. It's absolutely delicious. I swallow, licking icing off my lips before continuing. "I did have some weird dreams, but I don't know whether they were visions or not."

Spooky takes her own bite of cake, and her eyes brighten. She quickly tries to hide how much she enjoys it, though. "Interesting. Those might give us a lead."

"They were about the Mansion," I reveal. I don't really want to tell Spooky about them, but she was (apparently) supposed to help me, so I decide it can't hurt. So I tell her, trying not to leave anything out. Spooky looks very intrigued once I've finished, but again, she tries to hide it.

"Yep~" She says with a nod, and a burp. "Pretty sure those dreams of yours are connected to our, uh, situation here."

"How do you figure?" I ask, taking a large gulp of my drink. I am so not caffeinated enough for this crap.

"Well the light reminds me of what uh, what it was like when I was with Bob, but the doorway. That… that's the most important part. In fact, I think it might be the thing that's responsible for the—the instability of the universe thing?"

"Why's that?"

"Cause believe it or not, there is something like that in the Mansion. The good old Hellgate 2000. My dad used to use it to gather a bunch of specimens."

Remember what I said earlier about my brain almost bluescreening? I was wrong. This is a true bluescreen. My fork falls out of my hand as I'm left gaping. "Whoa—What?! Since when was your dad involved with this?"

Spooky shrugs, continuing to eat her cake as if the world wasn't about to end. "Longer than I was. He actually was the one who founded GL Labs. Mom worked there too, but not as much. They never told me about it, though." She huffs. "Anyway, maybe if we close the Hellgate, that'll patch things up? Maybe? It's uh, hard to say for sure…"

"How reassuring," I grumble, deciding to focus on my cake for now.

For a few blessed minutes, we sit in silence as we eat. I'm 3/4 through my delicious birthday cake when Spooky speaks up again. "By the way, when I was talking to Bob. They um, they called you 'they?'"

I jump in surprise, almost choking on my cake. I swallow it so I can take a deep breath. Why did this have to come up now? I'd hoped I could explain this later, with my friends to back me up, but noooo. At least this gives Spooky's story a little more weight; I hadn't told many people about my identity on the gender side of things, mostly because I felt like they wouldn't understand. I didn't understand for the longest time.

What business does this Bob thing have to out me like that? I wonder angrily. To my enemy, of all people? I get they wanted to respect my pronouns, but jeez!

I set my fork down, and with all the confidence I can muster, I proudly declare: "I recently figured out that I'm gender non-conforming, and I like both she and they pronouns. For the longest time I thought I was just a feminist tomboy, and I still am those things, but it kinda goes deeper than that."

I can feel myself tensing, expecting a flood of questions to come my way. Instead, Spooky simply asks, "So, do I just… alternate between the two sets of pronouns when I talk about you?"

I gape, but quickly pull myself together and try to act cool. "Pretty much, yeah."

Spooky nods, and goes back to her food.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I am completely taken off guard by this response. I hadn't felt this shocked by Spooky since she'd nearly cut my foot off with an axe. Since Spooky had been born in an earlier time period, I'd expected her knowledge of queer people to be not very good, let's just say. But this was the best reaction I'd gotten to my gender identity. Even my mom had been a little confused.

I was just about to ask Spooky about it when she got to the bottom of her juicebox and began making that funny noise that straws make when there's not much liquid left, like a tiny bathtub drain. I'm nearly at the bottom of my drink myself, so I grab it and slurp back at her. It's not as good sounding since I don't have a straw, but I make it work. This act of pettiness makes me feel normal again.

Spooky watches as Zoe runs around the house, tossing things into her backpack. As soon as they had finished with their breakfast, she'd set to it, shoving seemingly random things into the bag.

The feeling of being alive, spirit tied to a warm fleshy meat sack, was still something Spooky had to get used to. Every breath felt alien. Why, she swore she could also feel her heart beating, and her blood snaking through her veins. Just standing here and doing absolutely nothing felt like the weirdest thing ever.

Spooky was yanked out of her musings when a purple backpack flew at her face. She grabbed it out of the air before it can hit her still tender nose. At least my reflexes are still up to snuff, she muses.

"You need to pack, too," Zoe explains, shoving an entire box of juiceboxes into their bag. "You should know as well as anybody that the Mansion can be dangerous, and you have to be prepared."

Spooky could feel herself scowling. Frankly, she didn't want any part of Zoe and her horror-destroying ways, but she also didn't want to be sent to Hell, no matter how not-fire-and-brimstone B.O.B. said it was. First thing on the agenda: get the trusty knife that B.O.B. Was generous enough to spawn her in with.

Zoe, apparently able to read Spooky's mind, blocks her way. They scowl at her, putting their hands on their hips. "Spooky," she starts with a warning, chastising tone.

"What, you expect me to go there without a weapon? You said it yourself, it's dangerous."

Zoe grabs the knife from the wardrobe. Spooky tries to grab it from her, but they dodge, sliding the weapon into their own backpack. "I don't understand why I have to explain this to you, but you don't exactly have a saintly reputation with anyone living today that knows you. Everyone's already going to freak out when they see you; how do you think they'll react if you waltzed into the Mansion with a giant freaking knife?"

Spooky can't help herself. She knows that the technically older girl is right, but do they have to ruin her dreams like this? Spooky had never gotten to play with a knife like the one she'd given herself in the Mansion's games in real life before. The one she'd managed to summon while attempting to kill Zoe at the end of her first adventure had merely been an illusion.

"Don't worry," Zoe says, and oh! At first glance, that was real concern in their voice, but Spooky knew better. She knew they were trying to get under her skin. Skin that she actually has because she's alive again, that was going to take some getting used to. "Dealing with the inhabitants of the Mansion in non-violent ways will be tough, especially for you, since you've got a bad reputation with them. But you see, that'll make it all worth it in the end. I will teach you the ways of the pacifist. And review some good-personing skills as well."

Spooky sighs. "I can't wait," she drawls.