Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Piper sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment’s living room, an unopened parcel resting in her lap. Her fingers worked at the tape, excitement mingling with curiosity. The brown wrapping fell away to reveal a simple white box. A card was taped to the top, her mother’s handwriting looping across the envelope.

“Proud of you, sweetheart. Congratulations on nursing school. I found something special to mark the occasion. Love, Mom.”

Piper smiled, her heart warm. She set the card aside and lifted the lid of the box. Beneath a layer of tissue paper lay a porcelain doll. Its vintage charm was undeniable—dressed in a pristine white dress adorned with a scarlet ribbon, with a head of vibrant red hair styled in two neat pigtails.

“What’s that?” Shel’s voice startled Piper. She turned to see her girlfriend leaning against the doorway, a curious smile playing on her lips.

“It’s from my mom,” Piper said, holding up the doll carefully. “She sent it as a congratulations gift. Her name's Annabelle. Isn’t it sweet?”

Shel stepped closer, tilting her head to examine the doll. “It’s... cute,” she said hesitantly, her smile faltering just slightly. “Kind of old-fashioned, though. But I like it. Your mom always has a way of surprising you.”

Piper grinned. “Yeah, she does. She knows I’ve always had a soft spot for little treasures like this.”

Shel nodded thoughtfully. “We should find a place for it. Maybe one of the shelves in the spare room?”

Piper beamed, delighted by the suggestion. “That’s perfect!” she said. Rising to her feet, she leaned in to kiss Shel, a quick but heartfelt gesture.

Shel returned the kiss with a smile, watching as Piper moved toward the spare room, cradling the doll like it was precious.

In the spare room, Piper carefully placed the doll on an empty shelf, stepping back to admire it. “It looks great there,” she called out to Shel, who had followed her to the doorway.

“It does,” Shel agreed, though her voice was quieter now, her eyes lingering on the doll for a moment longer than necessary.

Piper turned to her with a bright smile. “It’s like it was meant to be here.”

Shel nodded, but her gaze flicked back to the doll. In the dim light of the room, the porcelain face seemed almost lifelike. The wide glass eyes caught the light in an unnatural way, and the painted smile looked just a little... off.

Shel blinked, brushing the unease away. “Yeah, perfect fit,” she murmured, stepping back.

Piper took her hand, and together they left the room, switching off the light.

As the door closed, the room fell silent. The doll sat still on the shelf, its blank eyes reflecting the faint glow from a streetlamp outside. Slowly, the red ribbon on its dress shifted, as though stirred by a breeze that wasn’t there.

Somewhere deep in the house, a faint creak echoed, followed by the soft sound of something tapping against wood.

Chapter Text

The house was quiet, save for the occasional groan of the floorboards under Nico’s boots. He sat in the living room, arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the space as the couple sat across from him, their expressions a mixture of worry and weariness.

“I’m telling you,” the woman said, twisting her hands nervously, “it’s not just the creaking. It’s the lights flickering all the time, and the water dripping from the ceiling out of nowhere.”

“And sometimes,” her husband added, glancing at the staircase leading to the attic, “it feels… heavy. Like someone’s watching us.”

Nico gave a small nod, his expression calm and unreadable. “I understand. Will’s checking the attic right now, just to be thorough. But so far, I haven’t sensed anything unusual.”

The woman shifted uneasily. “But the noises—”

“Could be a lot of things,” Nico interrupted gently, his voice even. “Houses tend to settle over time. Wood expands and contracts with pressure changes. It’s normal for older homes.”

The sound of boots descending the attic stairs drew everyone’s attention. Will emerged, brushing cobwebs from his hair and letting out a breath. His golden hair was a little disheveled, but his easy smile was firmly in place as he approached Nico.

“Well,” Will began, “the good news is, I found where the dripping’s coming from. There’s a leak in the attic plumbing—nothing supernatural, just regular wear and tear. You’ll need a plumber to take care of it before it gets worse.”

Nico nodded slightly, looking back at the couple. “The flickering lights could be due to faulty wiring or old bulbs. And like I said earlier, creaking is usually just the house settling or shifts in air pressure.”

“But what about the heavy feeling? The sense that someone’s here?” the woman pressed, her voice hushed.

Nico exchanged a glance with Will before turning back to her, his tone reassuring. “If there was something more… out of the ordinary, I’d know. Trust me.” He tapped his temple lightly, a faint smirk playing at his lips.

Will added with a comforting smile, “And if there was anything dangerous, you wouldn’t be standing here listening to us explain plumbing and wiring. Nico’s great at what he does, and I think it’s safe to say your house isn’t haunted.”

The couple still seemed skeptical, but the tension in the room had eased slightly. Nico stood, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “Get the plumbing fixed, replace the bulbs, and if anything strange happens after that, you can call us. But for now, it looks like you’re dealing with a regular house—no spirits attached.”

Will gave the couple a friendly wave as they made their way out of the house. Once they were outside and back at their car, Nico nudged him with his elbow. “I'm not brushing those cobwebs and dust out of your hair.”

Will shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re the one who asked me to climb into the attic.”

Nico crossed his arms, his expression smug. “Hey, every team needs someone to do the dirty work.” 

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The apartment door creaked open as Piper and Shel stepped inside, their shoulders heavy with exhaustion after a long day of classes. The faint smell of leftover pizza lingered in the air, a reminder of last night’s half-hearted dinner. Piper dropped her backpack onto the floor near the door, already moving toward the bedroom.

“Ugh, I’m so ready to collapse,” Piper muttered, running a hand through her choppy, dark hair.

Shel followed, her attention caught by the sight of the living room sofa. Her brows furrowed. Sitting perfectly upright, with its painted porcelain face and unsettlingly cheerful smile, was Annabelle. 

“Uh, Piper?” Shel called, her voice tinged with confusion as she froze in front of the sofa.

“What?” Piper called back from the bedroom, her tone muffled as she rummaged for something.

Shel didn’t take her eyes off the doll. “Didn’t we leave her in the spare bedroom?”

The sound of Piper’s footsteps grew louder as she reappeared in the hallway, her brow furrowing as she looked at Shel, then at the doll. “What? No, we—” She stopped mid-sentence, her expression mirroring Shel’s confusion. “Wait. We did leave her there, didn’t we?”

Shel nodded slowly, crossing her arms. “Yeah. On the shelf by the window.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What’s she doing here?”

Piper blinked at the doll for a moment, then shook her head as if to dispel her own unease. “We probably just remembered wrong.” Her tone was casual, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

Shel raised an eyebrow. “You think both of us got it wrong?”

“I mean…” Piper trailed off, then let out a nervous laugh. “Maybe? Or maybe we moved her and forgot. It’s not like she walked out here on her own.”

Shel didn’t respond, her gaze still fixed on the doll. Piper sighed, stepping forward and picking Annabelle up. The doll’s glassy eyes seemed to stare back at her, unblinking and unnerving. Piper gave it a little shake, as if to prove it was just a lifeless object.

“See? Nothing weird about her.” Piper forced a grin, but even she couldn’t ignore the strange chill running down her spine.

Shel didn’t look convinced. 

“I'll just put her back,” Piper replied lightly, though her grip on the doll was tighter than she’d intended.

She made her way to the spare bedroom, nudging the door open with her foot. The dim light filtered in, and she placed Annabelle back on the shelf by the window, exactly where they’d left her. Piper hesitated for a second, then adjusted the doll’s position, turning her slightly away so her stare wasn’t as direct.

“There,” she said, returning to the living room where Shel stood, arms still crossed.

“All good?” Shel asked, her tone tense.

“Yep,” Piper replied, flashing a quick smile. “Back where she belongs.”

But as the two girls settled in for the evening, neither of them could quite shake the lingering unease that hung in the air—like Annabelle’s porcelain face was still watching them, even from the other room.

Chapter Text

Shel sat at the dining table, her fingers tightening around her pen as she worked through her latest assignment. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan above was the only sound in the apartment, save for the occasional scratch of her pen against the paper. She sighed, rubbing her temples, when a strange noise reached her ears—something sliding against the floor.

She stilled.

Setting her pen down, she turned toward the hallway. Her heart pounded as she rose from her chair, padding silently toward the source of the sound. Outside the spare room, lying just beneath the doorframe, was a small piece of paper.

She frowned.

Bending down, she picked it up, her fingers brushing over the coarse texture. It wasn’t regular paper—it was parchment. Her pulse quickened as she flipped it over. A single word, scrawled in what appeared to be red ink, stared back at her:

HELP.

The handwriting was shaky, uneven. Childlike.

A cold shiver ran down her spine. They had never kept parchment in the house. Where had it come from?

Swallowing, she hesitated before gripping the door handle and slowly pushing the spare room door open.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

Annabelle.

The doll sat upright on the floor, leaning against the shelf as though it had been deliberately placed there. Shel’s stomach twisted. She stepped inside, crossing the room cautiously. Bending down, she picked up the doll, her fingers trembling as she set it back on the shelf.

She turned, exhaling shakily as she stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Back in the living room, she collapsed onto the couch, staring at the parchment in her hands. The apartment felt colder now. A creeping unease settled over her.

Then, it came again.

That sound.

Sliding.

Her breath caught. Slowly, she stood up, her legs unsteady as she walked toward the hallway. Another piece of parchment lay in the same spot as before.

This time, her hands shook as she reached for it.

HELP SHEL.

A chill ran through her. The ink—was it ink?—looked fresh. Her chest tightened. She turned, her pulse roaring in her ears as she pushed the door open again.

Once again, the doll was standing against the shelf.

Shel’s breath came in shallow gasps. She stepped closer, her skin crawling. This time, something was different. Her gaze locked onto its tiny hands—

Blood.

Dark red smeared across its porcelain fingers and down its back.

A scream tore from her throat as she stumbled backward, dropping the parchment. Panic seized her, and she ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. Her breaths came in rapid bursts, her hands clutching her chest as she backed into the living room.

The front door swung open.

“Shel?”

Piper.

Shel turned, her face pale, eyes wide with terror as she walked in, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Piper asked, frowning as she dropped her bag on the couch.

Shel pointed toward the spare room, her hand trembling. “The doll… Annabelle… it—”

Piper followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “What about it?”

Shel swallowed hard. “It moved. Again. And… it has blood on it.”

Piper’s expression shifted. Slowly, she turned toward the hallway.

The air in the apartment felt suffocating.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

And then—

The door creaked open, inch by inch, on its own.

Piper sucked in a breath. "Shel, we need to leave. Now."

But Shel couldn't move. Her feet were glued to the floor, her body frozen in a state of paralyzing fear. The door opened wider.

"Oh my God," Piper whispered, grabbing Shel’s arm. "We’re leaving."

A sudden gust of wind swept through the apartment, rattling the windows and slamming the spare room door shut with a deafening bang. The air grew heavy, thick with something unseen.

Then, the whispers began.

Faint, chilling voices that seemed to slither through the very walls of the apartment. They couldn't make out the words, but the pleading, desperate tone was unmistakable.

Piper's entire body trembled. "Shel, we have to get out!" 

But just as they turned toward the front door, the apartment lights flickered violently before plunging them into complete darkness.

A low cry echoed from the spare room.

But before they could take a step, the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps filled the hallway. Piper and Shel held their breath, their bodies tense, as the footsteps grew louder, closer.

Then, the spare room door burst open.

Annabelle was missing.

The only thing left was a new parchment, floating gently to the floor.

Shel hesitantly stepped towards the paper and picked it up. 

Why did you ignore me?

Chapter Text

The scent of burning sage curled in wisps from the bundle in the woman's hand. The room was dim, the only illumination coming from the flickering candles placed in a rough circle on the floor. Lavinia, the self-proclaimed psychic, launched into her act, muttering in a strange, lilting tongue as Piper and Shel sat close, their hands intertwined nervously beneath the table. 

Piper felt a chill creep up her spine as the flame of a candle danced violently in a room otherwise still. Shel, ever the skeptic, had remained tense throughout the séance, but even she could not deny the way the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees since they began.

Finally, Lavinia exhaled sharply, opening her pale eyes to the two of them. “Her name is Annabelle Higgins.”

Piper’s gaze flickered toward the doll sitting motionless on the armchair, its glassy eyes reflecting the candlelight.

“She died here,” Lavinia continued, voice gentle but firm. “Seven years old. A tragic death in this very apartment.” She placed a hand over the planchette resting on the Ouija board before her. “She says she loves this place. She likes you.”

Shel’s grip on Piper’s hand tightened. “Likes us?”

Lavinia nodded. “She wishes to stay.”

Silence fell over the room, so thick it pressed against Piper’s lungs. Her heart ached at the thought of a lonely child spirit lingering, longing for company. “She’s just a child…” she murmured, her resolve crumbling under the weight of pity.

Shel sighed beside her, but there was no real protest in her voice when she spoke. “So what do we do?”

Lavinia leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “That is up to you.”

Piper swallowed hard and looked at Shel. She let out a slow breath and nodded, her fingers brushing Piper's in silent agreement.

“Alright,” Piper said, turning her gaze back to the doll. Its painted lips remained frozen in their eerie, eternal smile. A shiver skated down her spine, but she pushed it away. “She can stay.”

Lavinia inclined her head, extinguishing the candles one by one. “Then it is done.”

As the final candle sputtered out, plunging the room into the dim glow of the streetlights outside, Piper dared one last glance at Annabelle. The pity in her chest warred with unease, her fingers curling into her lap.

The doll had not moved. Not even an inch.

And yet, Piper could not shake the feeling that its painted eyes had shifted, ever so slightly, to watch her.

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Shel let out a tired sigh as she shut the door behind her, tossing her keys onto the small table by the entrance. Another long day at nursing school, and all she wanted now was a shower and her bed. She trudged to her room, swinging her bag off her shoulder and placing it on the desk before stretching her arms above her head.

Thud.

She froze. The sound had come from just behind her. Turning around, she spotted the source—Annabelle. The porcelain-faced doll lay face-down near the door, her red-ribboned braids splayed out on the wooden floor.

Shel exhaled, rubbing her temple. “Annabelle, seriously?” She walked over and picked up the doll, brushing off imaginary dust. “You just want attention, huh? Could’ve waited until after I ate.”

She held the doll up to eye level, quirking an amused brow. “Or maybe you just wanted some company.”

Shaking her head, she made her way to the spare room, where Annabelle was usually kept. It was dim inside, the air slightly colder than the rest of the house. Shel placed the doll back on the shelf in the corner and turned to leave—

Thud.

Her stomach sank.

She turned back. Annabelle was on the floor again, this time sprawled on her back, her glassy eyes staring right at Shel.

The room suddenly felt heavier.

Shel inhaled through her nose, willing her nerves to settle. “Okay. That’s creepy.”

Slowly, she knelt down and reached for the doll. But the second her fingers brushed against it, a chill ran down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

She could feel it—an oppressive presence behind her, lurking just out of sight. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, her breath coming out shallow and uneven.

She whipped her head around.

Nothing.

Just an empty room.

Shel let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to her chest. “I need sleep.”

Just as she reached for the doll again, searing pain tore through her chest.

She gasped, doubling over as agony exploded under her skin. A scream ripped from her throat as she staggered backward, her vision blurring. Her shirt—her pale blue nursing uniform—was turning red.

What the—?

The pain intensified, burning and slicing at the same time. Her arms jerked as fresh wounds bloomed across them, as if invisible claws were raking through her flesh. Shel’s breath hitched as she frantically unbuttoned her shirt, her fingers trembling.

Six deep, furious red marks marred her chest, stretching from her collarbone to her ribs.

She choked on a sob, her pulse hammering.

Her gaze snapped to Annabelle, still lying motionless on the floor.

Terror clawed up her throat. She shoved herself to her feet and bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind her, her breath ragged, the phantom burn of claws still seared into her skin. 

Chapter Text

Piper stepped into the apartment, the door creaking slightly as she entered. The dim light cast long shadows across the walls. Her breath caught when she saw Shel curled up on the couch, clutching a knife, her entire body trembling.

Piper rushed to her side, kneeling down. "Shel, what happened?"

Shel hesitated before slowly uncurling, revealing fresh, jagged slash marks across her arm and chest. Her face was pale, her eyes wild with fear. "Annabelle did it."

Piper felt her stomach drop. "Annabelle? Shel, she's just a little girl. Why would she do something like this?"

Shel let out a bitter laugh, wincing from the pain. "Maybe you should ask her that."

Dread coiled around Piper’s heart as she slowly rose and made her way to the spare room. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the doorknob, pushing it open.

Her breath hitched in her throat.

The doll sat in the middle of the room, unnervingly still. The walls were covered in crude, scrawled words—‘your soul’ etched in uneven script—alongside pentacles drawn in a dark, smeared substance. The air was thick, oppressive.

Piper stumbled back, turning on her heel. She rushed back to Shel, grabbing her by the shoulders. "We need to call a priest. Now."

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A soft knock sounded on the apartment door an hour later. Piper exchanged a glance with Shel before stepping forward to open it. Two men stood outside—one tall and lean with golden hair and an air of quiet reassurance, the other slightly shorter, with black hair and an almost unnatural stillness about him.

“Nico di Angelo and Will Solace,” the dark-haired man introduced, voice steady. “Father Hedge sent us.”

Piper hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside. “Come in.”

The men entered the apartment, their sharp eyes scanning the space with quiet intensity. The air felt oppressive, and Piper swore she saw the way Nico’s jaw tensed, as if he could sense it too.

They sat on the dining room table, with Annabelle placed at its head. 

“It started with the doll,” Piper began, voice tight. She gestured towards the porcelain figure sitting innocuously beside them. “My mom gave it to me as a gift.”

Nico’s gaze flickered toward it, unreadable. “Go on.”

“At first, it just moved around,” Shel continued. “We’d leave it in one place, and it would be somewhere else when we got back.”

“Then the messages started appearing,” Piper added. “Parchment paper. Handwritten notes, but neither of us wrote them.”

Will frowned. “What did they say?”

“Help,” Piper answered. “Or sometimes 'help Shel' or 'help Piper.'”

“We called a psychic for a séance,” Shel admitted. “She told us the doll was possessed by a little girl. Annabelle Higgins.”

“And you let it stay,” Nico murmured, his expression unreadable.

“We thought she was harmless,” Piper defended. “But then... it got worse.”

Shel hesitated, tugging at the collar of her shirt before revealing the faint, jagged marks etched into her skin. “It attacked me today.”

Nico leaned closer, gaze sharpening. “How many?”

Shel swallowed. “Six.” 

"There are messages. Drawn on the spare room's walls. They say 'your soul,'" Piper said. 

A charged silence filled the room. Nico and Will exchanged a glance, and in that moment, Piper knew they understood something that she and Shel did not.

Nico exhaled, crossing his arms. “This isn’t a human spirit.”

Shel’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

“Human spirits don’t possess objects,” Nico explained. “They possess people. But an inhuman spirit? A demonic entity? It attaches itself to objects, places—waiting, watching.”

Will spoke up, his voice gentler but firm. “The doll isn’t haunted. It’s a conduit. You weren’t dealing with Annabelle Higgins. You were dealing with something pretending to be her.”

The weight of their words sank in slowly.

“It’s been in the infestation stage,” Nico continued. “First, it moved the doll to get your attention. Then it used the psychic to gain permission to stay. You allowed it in. That’s when the messages started, then the blood, then the attack.”

Shel paled. “And the marks—”

“A warning,” Nico confirmed. “The mark of the beast. The next stage would have been possession. If this had gone on for another few weeks, one of you could have been taken.”

Piper felt a chill race down her spine. “Taken?”

Will nodded grimly. “It was looking for a soul.”

Silence fell like a heavy weight in the room. The air felt colder, charged with something neither girl wanted to name.

“We’ve already contacted Father Hedge,” Nico said, glancing around. “He’ll be here soon to bless the apartment. And we’re taking the doll.”

Shel’s relief was visible, tension leaving her shoulders as she nodded. “Take it. Please.”

Nico stepped forward, producing a small case from his bag. He didn’t hesitate as he carefully lifted the doll, his hands steady, movements practiced. He placed it inside, locking the latch with a quiet finality.

Piper exhaled, the weight of fear lifting ever so slightly. “It’s over, then?”

Nico and Will shared a look before Will offered a small, reassuring smile. “It will be.” 

Chapter Text

The road stretched out before them, long and empty, the only company the occasional streetlamp casting flickering light over the hood of their car. Will gripped the wheel, glancing at Nico, who sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the dark horizon.

"You think we should’ve stayed till Father Hedge finished blessing the house?" Will asked, keeping his tone casual, though the tightness in his chest betrayed him.

Nico shook his head. "It would’ve been fine. The blessing is just a precaution." He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping against his arm. "I felt the evil leave our room the moment we took the doll out of the house."

Will’s hands tensed on the wheel. "So where is it now?"

Nico turned his head slightly, his voice almost too calm. "In our trunk."

A small shiver crawled down Will’s spine. "Yeah. Okay. That’s comforting."

He tried to focus on the road, but his fingers twitched against the dashboard. "Maybe some music will lighten things up?"

Nico sighed but didn’t protest as Will flicked on the radio. A soft melody filled the car, something upbeat and familiar. A grin stretched across Will’s face as he started humming, then singing along off-key —because of course, he had to.

"Shut up," Nico muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched.

"Oh, come on, you love it," Will teased, reaching over to poke Nico’s cheek before refocusing on the road.

"Debatable."

Will gasped dramatically. "I’m wounded."

Nico rolled his eyes but let his head tilt against the window, watching Will with quiet amusement as he continued singing.

Then, the music stopped.

Will blinked. "That’s weird." He tapped the radio, trying to restart the song.

A few seconds later, the speakers crackled to life—but the sound that came through wasn’t right. The song was back, but reversed, muddled, voices distorted into eerie wails.

Will’s breath hitched. "Oh, absolutely not."

Nico sighed, completely unfazed. "I don’t think Annabelle likes your songs."

Will groaned and immediately shut the radio off. "No offense to her, but she has terrible taste."

Nico smirked. "Maybe she prefers the classics."

Will rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to reply because Nico suddenly sat up straighter, his gaze snapping toward the road. "Will, watch out!"

Will barely had a second to react before a pair of headlights flashed in front of them. He swerved, heart leaping to his throat as a truck roared past, its horn blaring angrily. The car veered dangerously close to the side of the road before Will yanked it back into place, his breath coming fast and sharp.

"What the hell was that?!" he gasped, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. "I don’t even know what happened—it felt like the car moved on its own."

Nico’s face was grim. "Be careful."

Will nodded, forcing himself to breathe evenly, but his pulse was still racing. They continued in tense silence until they reached a bend in the road. Will turned the wheel, only for the car to resist—jerking sharply in the opposite direction, as if something else had control.

"Oh, come on!" Will snapped, slamming the brakes. The car screeched to a halt on the empty road.

Will didn’t hesitate. He unbuckled his seatbelt, got out, and stomped to the trunk. Nico followed, watching with arms crossed as Will popped it open. There it sat—the Annabelle doll, its beady, soulless eyes staring up at them.

Will pulled out a small bottle of holy water from his jacket. "Not today, demon doll." He sprinkled a few drops over the doll, muttering a quick prayer. Then, satisfied, he shut the trunk with a decisive thud. "Hopefully that’ll keep her calm till we get home."

Nico didn’t look convinced. He exhaled slowly, glancing back at the trunk as if weighing their chances. "Let’s hope."

Will shot him a reassuring grin. "If not, we’re tossing her out on the next highway."

Nico huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You’d probably just make her angrier."

"Fine, plan B—we drive her straight into a church."

Nico snorted, and for a second, the weight in Will’s chest lifted. They got back in the car, the engine rumbling softly as they started off again. But as they drove, Will couldn’t help but glance at the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see something staring back at him.

Something told him this night wasn’t over yet.

Chapter Text

The house was silent, bathed in the eerie glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Will lay curled against Nico, the steady rhythm of their breathing the only sound in the room.

But then—a creak.

Will stirred, his brows knitting together as he blinked awake. Another sound, soft yet deliberate, echoed from the hall. His heart skipped a beat. Carefully, he untangled himself from Nico’s embrace and slipped out of bed, padding toward the source of the noise.

The hall was dimly lit, shadows stretching unnaturally along the walls. Will rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things, but no—sitting in the corner, motionless and staring straight ahead, was the Annabelle doll.

Will frowned. Hadn’t they left it on the chair by the bookshelf?

Shaking his head, he stepped forward, reaching for the doll. As soon as his fingers brushed against the worn fabric, a sudden force slammed into him, launching him across the room. He crashed against the opposite wall with a thud, pain jolting through his back. A strangled groan left his lips as he crumpled to the floor.

The noise was enough to wake Nico.

Nico shot upright, his heart hammering against his ribs. His eyes darted to the empty space beside him. “Will?” he called, but only a pained groan answered. Panic surged through him as he bolted out of bed, following the sound to the hall.

His breath caught in his throat.

Will was sprawled on the floor on one side of the hall, groaning in pain. But what sent ice flooding through Nico’s veins was the sight in the corner—the Annabelle doll hovering several feet off the ground, its glassy eyes locked onto them, its limbs limp yet disturbingly unnatural. The air around it crackled, a sinister energy filling the space.

Will coughed, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Nico…”

Nico didn’t hesitate. He rushed to Will’s side, gripping his arm and scanning him for injuries. “Are you okay?”

Will winced but nodded, still catching his breath. “It's Annabelle.”

Before Nico could answer, the doll twitched—then, in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t a doll anymore.

A twisted, grotesque figure loomed where the doll had been, its gnarled fingers curling, its sunken eyes burning with malice. Shadows coiled around its hunched form, its lips parting to reveal rows of jagged, blackened teeth. The air thickened with the stench of sulfur.

Nico clenched his jaw, his grip on Will tightening. His eyes flicked to the nearby desk—there. A wooden cross. Without hesitation, he lunged for it, snatching it up and turning to face the demon.

The creature snarled as Nico raised the cross. The second the symbol met the air between them, the demon shrieked, its form contorting violently. Smoke curled from its skin as it writhed, hissing in agony. With an earsplitting scream, the entity was sucked back into the doll, the force of it shaking the walls.

Then, silence.

Nico stood frozen, chest heaving, the cross still raised. The Annabelle doll lay lifeless on the floor once more, as if nothing had happened.

Will groaned again, and Nico turned to him, keeping the cross aside and helping him up.

“We need to call a priest,” Nico muttered, his voice firm but shaken.

Will, still trying to process what had just happened, nodded. “Yeah. No argument here.”

Chapter Text

The faint scent of holy oil lingered in the air as Father Hedge murmured the final prayers, his fingers tracing the cross over the Annabelle doll’s forehead. The doll sat eerily still, its beady eyes catching the dim glow of the occult room’s lanterns. Will stood beside Nico, their shoulders touching, his fingers absently playing with the hem of Nico’s sleeve as they watched the priest place the doll inside a glass case lined with protective sigils.

“With this blessing,” Father Hedge said, his voice steady, “the entity within can no longer cause harm, so long as it remains sealed inside.” He shut the case, locking it with a firm click before exhaling deeply. “This should hold.”

Will let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Should we, like, double-padlock it? Maybe duct tape the edges?” 

Father Hedge chuckled, shaking his head. “No need. This will hold.”

Nico tilted his head, his dark eyes sharp. “You sound like you’re eighty percent sure.”

Father Hedge gave him a small smile. “I have faith. You should too.” 

Nico nodded, his dark eyes locked onto the doll. “We appreciate this, Father.”

The priest dusted off his hands and adjusted his robes, preparing to leave. “I hope you two won’t be needing my services again anytime soon.” He turned toward the door but hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “However… there is a case in Enfield, London. A poltergeist disturbance, but I suspect it’s something far more serious. I believe it would benefit from a thorough investigation—your kind of investigation.”

Will exchanged a look with Nico before giving the priest a small smile. “We’ll think about it.”

Father Hedge gave a knowing nod, then made his way out. The heavy door shut behind him, leaving the room in a thick, comfortable silence.

Will sighed, rubbing his temple. “Well, that’s one less possessed doll to worry about.”

Nico hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on the glass case before shifting to Will. “For now.”

Will grinned before tugging Nico closer, his arms wrapping securely around him. “No ghost talk for the rest of the day,” he declared. “I’m officially off the clock.”

Nico rolled his eyes but leaned into the embrace. “You were never on the clock. You just follow me into these things.”

“And yet,” Will murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Nico’s temple, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Nico huffed, but Will didn’t miss the slight pink dusting his cheeks. “Sap.”

He rested his chin on Nico’s shoulder. “Official husband cuddling hours have begun.”

Nico stiffened for half a second before rolling his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“…Maybe.”

Nico let his fingers brush lightly over Will’s hands where they rested against his stomach. “Just don’t make me watch another horror movie tonight.”

Will gasped in mock betrayal. “It's research!”

Nico turned just enough to fix him with a glare, though there was no real heat behind it. “I will exorcise you.” 

Will pouted. “Wow. I see how it is. Guess I’ll just have to find someone else to cuddle.”

Nico rolled his eyes before grabbing Will’s shirt and pulling him right back in. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Will smiled against his skin, holding him just a little tighter as the shadows in the room flickered. No ghosts, no cases—just the two of them, warm in each other’s arms.