Sponge: I'm back! I hope everyone had a happy holiday season. Let's get the show on the road. BIG WARNING: There is some non-consensual touching in this chapter. Nothing graphic, but wanted to warn everyone that it was coming. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Scooby Doo characters. They belong to Cartoon Network, Warner Brothers, and Hanna Barbera.

Chapter 13: Let Me Go

Everyone stared at the journal that Scooby had discovered, awestruck and dumbfounded.

Fred glanced at Velma. "I thought you had the Book of the Dead."

"I do!" Velma opened the flap of her messenger bag and dug around inside until she triumphantly produced the leather-bound journal. She flipped it open to The Red Spot, still not wanting to show the others the newest story. The one she'd found that morning. The one that had been about her.

She looked back at Scooby. "Is anything written in that book?"

Scooby very gingerly opened the front cover. He felt he had to be as gentle as possible – the book seemed ancient, and he was afraid he would damage it.

"Reah," he replied, furrowing his brow. It was written in English, but the language in this book seemed old, archaic.

Fred noticed his consternation and knelt down to Scooby's level to study the book with him. "It's full of weird, outdated medical methods," he told the group. He counted the word leeches about a dozen times. "It's gotta be at least three hundred years old."

Daphne's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh my God" she whispered. "What if this is Sarah Ravencroft's book? Her real book, from the 1690s?"

Shaggy stared at it, slack-jawed. Somehow he knew she was right.

Nova frowned. "If Ben already had it, then why did he ask for our help to find it?"

Velma looked nervous. "And…if that's her real medical journal…" she paused, holding up the Book of the Dead. "Then what's this?"

The sound of car tires crunching over gravel caused them all to freeze. Ben was home. And Scooby knew it would be bad if Ben discovered them with the real journal.

Quickly, he tossed it back into the suitcase as Velma fumbled the Book of the Dead back into her messenger bag. Everyone scampered into the living room just as Ben opened the front door.

"Wow it's really coming down," he said, shaking out his umbrella and grinning. "Welcome, everyone! I see you've found some towels."

"I hope you don't mind," Fred said apologetically. "The rain picked up after we left the library and we didn't have any umbrellas."

Ben waved a nonchalant hand. "Of course not. Please make yourselves at home." He gestured forward and led the group down the hall to the living room. "Now, why don't you tell me about what you've discovered?"

Everyone sat around the small coffee table in the center of the living room and glanced at each other. What they'd discovered about Sarah Ravencroft at the library was nothing compared to what they'd discovered in Ben's room just now. But clearly they couldn't ask him about that. They didn't want him to know they'd been snooping.

Daphne cleared her throat. "Can you remind us again how Sarah Ravencroft the Second died?"

Ben nodded. "Of course," he replied. "The townspeople discovered that she'd been writing about them all in her book, and chased her off a cliff to her death."

Daphne glanced at Velma. "You want to show him what we found?"

Ben looked at them puzzled. "What's going on? Is there a new story in the book?"

Velma ignored his question – if she wasn't going to tell the gang about The Dream, she definitely wasn't about to tell Ben – and reached into the slim front compartment in her messenger bag for the copy of the newspaper article. "Did you see this?" she asked him, handing it over. "When you were doing your research?"

Ben glanced at the article and chuckled. "I did," he told them. "The Crystal Cove Chronicle has never been renowned for reliability, even back then. People in the town were happy to see the end of Sarah Ravencroft. They figured the more bad press she got, the less credibility her family would have. My family would have." He handed the article back to Velma. "I wouldn't put much stock in this article, to be honest. It was just scared journalists overreacting and unfortunately, overcorrecting in the wrong direction. But you have to understand, everyone was truly terrified of Sarah Ravencroft, and sincerely believed that she was an evil witch." He shrugged. "Once your mind is made up about someone, it's hard to change it back."

Involuntarily, Velma glanced over at Shaggy, remembering their conversation from last night. It surprised her to find that he was looking back at her. She blushed and turned away.

"Well…" she said to Ben now. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time like this,"

"Oh, please!" Ben exclaimed, shaking his head. "No need to apologize. I'm grateful that you're as interested in this as I am. Though I have to ask." He jerked his chin at Velma's messenger bag, where she'd put the article. "How did you convince the librarian to let you leave with that?"

"Um…" Velma stammered, blushing again.

Ben laughed. "Never mind," he said, eyes twinkling. "I'll pretend I never saw it." He slapped his knees and stood. "How about some lunch? I've got the fixings for burgers and hot dogs."

"Roy boy!" Scooby exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically.

Daphne glanced outside at the pouring rain. "What about the weather?"

Ben pointed through the window at a grill, which was under a covered patio. "We can eat inside, but I won't get wet out there while I grill." He glanced at Velma. "Would you mind assisting me? You can get plates and cups in the kitchen."

"Okay," Velma agreed, standing to follow Ben. The kitchen was a large, airy space off the living room, but separated by a wall and a set of saloon doors. Once they had swung shut, Ben pointed to a cabinet above the counter next to the sink.

"The plates are in there, I think," he said, a bit apologetically. "I confess I haven't been cooking much of my own food here – I've been eating out during most of this trip."

Velma shrugged, reaching up to open the cabinet. "I think that makes sense for a vacation," she told him without looking back at him. She had to admit she was starting to feel a bit uneasy in his presence. If he'd known of the false article about Sarah Ravencroft's death, why hadn't he told them about it? And while Velma didn't believe in witches, those occult books they'd found on his nightstand were creepy. Not to mention there were apparently two journals – the one that they'd found in the wall at the Ravencroft House, and the one that Ben had, which appeared to contain the first Sarah Ravencroft's medical notes.

Nova's question sprung back to Velma's mind. "If Ben already had it, then why did he ask for our help finding it?"

Velma didn't know the answer, but she knew she'd feel better once she and Ben weren't alone in a room together.

Ben took a box of burger patties out of the freezer compartment and turned to Velma. "How many should I make?"

"How many do you have?" she remarked, shooting a rueful glance over her shoulder towards the living room, where, though she couldn't see him through the saloon doors, she knew Shaggy sat on the couch. A lot of things may have changed about him, but she knew he still had that bottomless stomach.

Ben chuckled, rummaging around in the fridge for more burger fixings. "The two of you seem pretty close," he observed. Evidently, he understood who she'd been referring to. "How long have you been friends?"

Velma lifted her shoulders in another shrug. She didn't feel very close to Shaggy lately. "A long time." She'd finished getting plates, and had now moved onto a cabinet that she thought held glasses for drinks, but it turned out to contain a spice rack.

"Cups are over here," Ben told her, gesturing to the cabinet beside the fridge – right next to where he stood, gathering burger toppings.

Velma shuffled over reluctantly. She didn't want to be any closer to him than was strictly necessary. Something had definitely shifted for her since the discovery of Sarah Ravencroft's real book.

Ben cleared his throat as Velma reached up to open the cabinet. "Forgive me," he said as he sliced a tomato. "But…I can't help the sense that there's a bit of history between the two of you."

Velma stilled. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Ben shrugged. "Call it a writer's instinct. I'm pretty observant, especially about the way people relate to each other. For example, it's clear that Fred and Daphne are in a relationship. You don't have to be a writer to observe the chemistry between them. It's palpable. And overt." He glanced at her sideways. "But I've been picking up on some tension between you and Shaggy as well."

Velma felt herself blush to the roots of her hair and averted her gaze from Ben. Why was he asking her about this? "There's nothing," she told him. "We're not…I mean, we're just friends."

Was that true, though? After their conversation last night, Velma wasn't sure if she could even call them friends anymore.

Ben nodded slowly. "I see," he said. "Are you…more than friends…with anyone? At school, perhaps?"

Velma furrowed her brow. What was he getting at? "No," she replied. "I'm single."

There was a long silence. Ben had stopped slicing the tomato. "Remind me how old you are?"

Velma's skin prickled uncomfortably. "...Eighteen," she replied at last.

"Good." Ben's voice was husky.

Before Velma knew what was happening, Ben had moved behind her. She could feel heat radiating from his skin as his arms came around to grip the countertop, essentially trapping her between the kitchen counter and his body. She didn't turn around. She couldn't.

She was physically unable to move.

"Wh…what are you doing?" she whispered, anxiety rippling through her. She held onto the countertop with both hands, needing some sense of stabilization.

His voice was in her ear. "I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday." She could feel his breath on the skin of her neck. "Let me make it up to you." His left hand moved to encircle her wrist, while his other hand grasped her waist.

Velma still couldn't turn around or push him away, not while he had her in his clutches like this. "Stop," she tried to say, but her voice came out as barely a whisper.

Ben had his mouth against the back of her neck, moving his lips back and forth as his hands gripped her tighter. "You don't want me to stop," he told her. "You want this. You've been wanting this since that day at the Clam Cabin."

"I don't," she tried again. Her heart was hammering rabbit-fast in her chest. It felt like it was beating itself against her rib cage. Where was her volume? Why couldn't she shout? Scream?

She had never experienced fear like this before.

"Don't fight," he murmured against her neck. "I know you want me. I can tell by the way you blush when you're near me. The way you angle yourself toward me when I talk. Like I said, I'm a keen observer. Your body wants this, Velma. Let it happen."

Her body did not want this. No part of her wanted this.

"Stop," she said again. Ben had let go of her wrist and was now gripping her waist with both hands. "No, Ben, please…"

He ignored her, shifting his unyielding grasp down to her hips.

"Let me go," she cried. Still not loud enough. Still not adamant enough. Still not enough.

Her breath came in short, rapid bursts, and she tried again to tell him no, to tell him stop, but her voice had completely abandoned her. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She felt absolutely helpless.

x.X.x

Back in the living room, Scooby could tell that something was wrong.

It was impossible to describe how he knew. Something instinctual in his animal nature, perhaps, had tipped him off to the discomfiting energy emanating from the kitchen.

Nova felt it too. He saw her gazing uneasily at the saloon doors.

Fred, Daphne, and Shaggy were talking about the journal they'd found, speaking in hushed tones so as not to call attention to themselves. This also meant that they weren't paying attention to other noises in the house. Which meant that they otherwise may have heard Velma's voice from the kitchen.

"Stop…" it said, quietly enough that it was drowned out by the human's whispers. But loud enough that the dogs heard. "No, Ben, please…"

Scooby and Nova glanced at each other in alarm. What was going on?

"Everybody," Nova murmured urgently to the humans on the couch. "Be quiet for a moment."

The gang looked at her, a bit perplexed. She wasn't normally so stern with them.

"What is it?" asked Fred.

"Shh!" Scooby shushed him.

Everyone fell silent. A moment later, they heard Velma's voice from the kitchen.

"Let me go."

She wasn't very loud. But from the sound of her voice, she was clearly very scared.

Like a shot, all of them leapt to their feet and raced for the kitchen. Scooby arrived first, shoving open the saloon doors and halting abruptly in the doorway. He barely had time to take in the scene – Velma standing still as a statue at the counter while Ben towered above her from behind, his hands all over her – before instinct took over again.

"Rey!" he barked.

Two seconds later Scooby had knocked Ben away from Velma, pinning him to the floor and growling aggressively. Velma stepped back, her mind and body instantly eased by the freedom to move again, but her heart still pounding erratically.

"Are you alright?" Nova was close behind Scooby, but herded Velma away from the counter and back toward the doorway, where the rest of the gang stood, shock and horror etched on their faces.

Daphne recovered first, swiftly moving into the kitchen to put a comforting arm around Velma's shoulders.

"Ret her rout of here," Scooby ordered.

"Of course," Daphne agreed, ushering Velma out of the room. Nova followed, shooting Ben a dark look as she did.

"Call him off!" Ben cried. He tried to wriggle out from under Scooby's paws, but the dog simply dug in further and raised his hackles, snarling.

"Not a chance," Fred said, his voice dangerous. He stormed into the kitchen, towering over Ben. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

Ben scoffed, but kept his eyes on Scooby, whose teeth were mere inches from his face. "Please," he sneered. "She's been flirting with me all week. She was asking for it, the little slu–"

Rage bubbled in Scooby's chest and escaped his throat in the most animalistic bellow anyone in the gang had ever heard. It caused Shaggy and Fred to flinch, and Nova, Velma, and Daphne (who was holding Velma's messenger bag) to poke their heads back into the kitchen apprehensively.

With a terrified shout, Ben threw his arms over his face. "Get this mangy mutt away from me!"

Scooby was practically frothing at the mouth, he was so angry. He was ready to tear Ben limb from limb.

But then he heard Velma's voice from the doorway. "He's not worth it, Scooby. Let's go."

Scooby glanced back at her, bewildered, until he saw the look in her eyes. She was agitated. Afraid. And he knew inherently that the best thing for Velma now was to get her out of the house.

Immediately, he stepped off of Ben's chest, but Ben didn't stand up right away. Scooby still hadn't lowered his hackles, and he backed away slowly as the rest of the gang left the kitchen first. Daphne quickly led Velma down the hall towards the front door, still clutching her messenger bag. Nova and the boys followed, Fred pausing briefly to pick up the umbrella that Ben had set down earlier. Scooby was the last to leave, glaring menacingly at Ben until he'd left the kitchen.

x.X.x

Outside on the porch, Fred opened the umbrella and held it aloft so the gang was as protected from the rain as they could be. It was coming down much harder now, and the umbrella wasn't quite large enough for all of them, but Velma didn't mind getting wet. Maybe the rain would…cleanse her, somehow. She had never felt so disgusting, so humiliated. She drew her arms around her middle, as though physically trying to keep herself together.

The gang marched away from the beach house, only stopping when they were far enough away that they could no longer see it. They leaned against a concrete wall beneath an awning to catch their breath. Fred lowered the umbrella and the dogs shook themselves dry. Daphne still hadn't let Velma go, her thin arm holding the shorter girl's shoulders in a tight yet gentle grasp. The rain that sneaked under the awning was making Daphne's bushy hair frizz a little, but she didn't seem to notice or care – her periwinkle eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Velma.

No one had spoken since they'd left the kitchen, but Daphne was the first to break the silence now.

"Are you alright?" she asked Velma gently.

Velma opened her mouth to answer, but was embarrassed and horrified to discover that her eyes were burning with unshed tears, and she quickly averted her gaze. Normally she was stoic and unflappable, but what had happened with Ben had genuinely shaken her. She may have fallen apart at the seams if not for Daphne's arm firmly around her shoulders. She took a deep breath and blinked her tears back, still not looking at anyone directly.

"I'm…"

But she found herself at a loss for words. Her instincts told her to say I'm fine. But she wasn't fine. She was sickened. Exhausted. Ashamed.

Fred stepped closer to pull Velma into a comforting embrace. "I am so sorry," he murmured. "We never should have let you go in there alone."

He was dripping wet from the rain as well, but Velma didn't mind much. "It's not your fault," she told him, her voice still quiet.

"It's not yours either. It's Ben's," Daphne told her firmly. Fred had released Velma, and she chanced a sidelong look at Daphne only to realize that her face had contorted with fury. She still had Velma's messenger bag slung over her shoulder, and gripped the strap with a rigid fist. "He's been inappropriate with you ever since we got to town. He's an adult – he should know better," Daphne went on, something lethal in her tone.

On a rational level, Velma knew that technically everyone in the gang were adults now too, but she didn't find this thought helpful, so she said nothing.

"Seriously." Fred seemed similarly outraged. "What did he think was going to happen, we were just going to let him…" He trailed off, punching his fist against his palm. Velma had rarely ever seen him so angry.

Nova directed a malevolent glance back in the direction of the house. "It's repulsive," she whispered vehemently. "Vile."

Daphne turned to Scooby. "I thought you were going to kill him," she said, not exaggerating in the slightest.

"Re would have had it roming," Scooby muttered, also casting a dark look back towards Ben's house. "Rhe son of a ritch."

Velma didn't think she'd ever heard Scooby swear before. This, more than anything, shook her out of her catatonia, and she finally glanced up fully.

Fred and Daphne were irate, their eyes blazing with fire on Velma's behalf. Scooby and Nova, likewise – Nova paced indignantly, and Scooby's hackles were still up. But Shaggy, who hadn't said a single word, stood rigidly staring into the middle distance in a stony silence. He wasn't even looking at Velma.

For reasons she was unable to fathom, this upset her worse than she'd expected. Had it really come to this? Had Velma hurt Shaggy so badly that he couldn't even muster up any sympathy for her? Or even anger at Ben, whom he'd been irritated with from the jump?

Had their friendship – their relationship – truly become that irreparable?

Velma felt as though her heart had been wrung out.

Her embarrassment was still overwhelming though, and she busied herself with glancing at their surroundings. She realized that they had run all the way back to the library. She sighed, reaching to take her messenger bag from Daphne and lifting the flap. "We should try to sneak the Sarah Ravencroft file back in," she murmured. She was about to slide it out from the slim pocket, when she paused, distracted by something else in her bag.

"What?" asked Nova, concerned.

"Shit," Velma swore. She reached into her bag, bypassing both the file on Sarah Ravencroft and the Book of the Dead, and instead pulled out the sinister grimoire they'd discovered on Ben's nightstand. She must have slipped it into her messenger bag by mistake when they were rushing to leave Ben's room before he came into the house.

She glanced up at her friends and saw that their faces were the picture of horror.

"I assume I speak for all of us when I say there's not a snowball's chance that we're bringing that back?" Fred spoke up after several moments. He had no desire to return to Ben's house for any reason.

"Yeah, this is our book now," Daphne agreed, though she didn't look very happy about it. Why would she? That grimoire had really freaked them all out.

Absentmindedly, Velma opened it, flipping through the pages, not really paying attention to what they said until handwritten notes caught her eye. They had been scribbled in the margins of one of the spells by Ben – she recognized his handwriting from when he'd written his phone number in the Book of the Dead. But these notes made Velma's blood run cold.

"Um…" she murmured. "I think I figured out why Ben had this book."

Her friends gathered around her, reading over her shoulder.

"Jesus Christ," Fred muttered.

Written in the margins was a note in Ben's handwriting:

For Sarah.

And next to it, in big block typeface at the top of the page, was the heading:

RITUAL FOR REVIVING THE DEAD

Sponge: I hope you enjoyed! Just a quick note that I unfortunately will be needing to take another quick break - I was hit with an illness that threw me for a loop and haven't quite recovered enough to finish writing the next chapters, but I promise it won't be a long hiatus! I should be back soon. In the meantime, I hope you'll consider leaving a review! I'm looking forward to these last five chapters, and I hope you are too!