Chapter Text
The drive isn’t tense, but Robby still feels relieved when they make it to Jack’s house. He hasn’t called to let the man know he was coming so when they get to the house, he takes care to warn Whitaker about the “alarm system”. Of course, they make it about ten feet from the car before the kid activates a tripwire. Robby leaps at him, throwing them both to the ground as silver tipped arrows begin to fly where they had been standing. His entire body is over Whitaker who is clearly beginning to freak the fuck out. Before Robby can roll off of him, the kid bucks him off, the strength of someone with a lifetime of physical labor coming out. Robby lands on his back with a surprised huff as the breath gets knocked out of him.
This is, of course, how Jack finds them. There’s the sound of a safety clicking back into place and then Jack laughing. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?”
Whitaker has gotten to his feet, eyes still looking a bit wild until he sees Robby on the ground. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He leans down and offers a hand to Robby.
He doesn’t take it. He grunts with a little pain from the fall, but gets to his feet. He turns his attention to Jack, whose got a twelve gauge leaned against his shoulder. “We need to talk about something.”
”I figured since you only ever visit when you need something,” Jack snarks, he points with his eyes toward Whitaker. “Who is this?”
“Wh-“ Robby starts.
“Dennis Whitaker, sir,” Whitaker cuts Robby off, sticking his hand out to Jack.
Jack raises an eyebrow, but meets the boy for a handshake. “Abraham and Deborah’s son? Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jack Abbot.”
“Ohhkay, introductions complete. Let's get inside now.” Robby starts for the door, “Make sure the kid doesn't set off any more of your boobytraps.”
~
They discuss the attack. Robby gives the details of what he saw and Dennis tells his side. The poor kid looks exhausted from just remembering the experience, so Jack shows him to one of the spare bedrooms.
Robby can hear their voices muffled through the walls. He listens patiently for the sound of footsteps as Jack heads back down the stairs.
On his return, Jack pours them both a glass of whiskey, sliding it across the kitchen island to him. He takes a long swallow and levels a look at Robby, “So…what now?”
The look. That look that demands Robby sit and have an actual conversation with him. Robby drinks the whiskey down first and hands it back to Jack for a refill. His friend gives him a grim smile as he pours out another. Robby rolls the textured glass between his palms as he speaks. “Now I start looking for these vampires. Abe gave me some information about their last known whereabouts, I can meet up with Collins and Dana to see if they’ve heard anything.”
“And if it wasn't the vampires?” Jack’s expression tells him that the man isn't asking for hypotheticals.
“Then I guess I’ll come back for your expertise.”
Jack glares at him. “If there's anything left of you, old man.”
Robby can't help but laugh. It breaks the tension and Jack decides to laugh with him. Then a little more seriously, Jack asks,“What about the kid?”
Right. Robby stretches his legs out and hums. “Well, I was hoping you would take him. We both know he shouldn't be with me.”
Jack nods. “Sure, I’ll let him stay here until he can get on his feet.”
Alright, situation handled. He is no longer in charge of anyone but himself again. He waits for a little rush of relief at his freedom, but it doesn't feel quite as good as he had expected.
~
After another 6 drinks and prodding questions about his mental well being Robby excuses himself for the night. The whiskey is burning up a hole in his chest now and the tums in his bag are calling his name. Damn, it sucks getting old. The alcohol has made the world soften at the edges though which is nice. Partly due to him letting himself bask in the rare safety of Jack’s home, warded and booby trapped to hell and back. As he heads toward the guest room upstairs he is surprised to find that he needs to grip the handrail for balance. At the landing, there are three doorways, the one immediately to his right is the one he has always been designated. He wants to bee-line for until he sees Whitaker lingering in the entrance of his own room. The look on his face tells Robby he has something to say. He isn't sober enough for whatever this is.
“I know you want to leave me here with Mr. Abbot,” Whitaker meets his eyes as he speaks, not giving the man any escape. “I understand why but….please don’t.”
“Kid…” Robby starts. He wants to find the words to let him down easy. Afraid to cause more damage.
“Please, I would like to learn from you, sir.” Whitaker steadies himself, standing taller, determined in the way Robby remembers being so many years ago. “I want to be able to protect myself and others. My father always said you were a good man. That you helped people.”
Robby wobbles on his feet, legs threatening to drop out from under him. Shit. Whitaker rushes towards him, but Robby catches himself against the wall and holds him away with a hand to the chest. “Let me think on it, okay?”
Whitaker nods, looking down with a hurt expression as he responds with, “Yes, sir.”
It's wrong and a testament to the fact that Robby has lost part of his soul, but that looks and those words send a heat through his core. His palm is pressed to the soft but firm pectoral muscle under the kid’s shirt. He gives it a soft squeeze without thinking. Whitaker’s eyes shoot back up and Robby panics, giving him a push back towards the open door to his room. Robby shoves open the door to his own room, mumbling the words, “Get some sleep, it's been a long day.”
He shuts and locks the door behind him and curses out loud. Thankfully the bed is neatly made up and begging him to get inside. So after stripping out of two day old clothes he lets himself fall into a rare deep sleep.
~
The kid ends up leaving with Robby the next morning. He doesn’t even have the excuse of drunk judgement. It was sitting there at the table with Jack and Whitaker, the air so thick with tension it made him want to throw up. The guilt of the death of his friends pushes him to the decision. So, Whitaker gets in his car and they drive East. Robby refuses to think about all the ways this will end up biting him in the ass. He particularly ignores the way the kid looks at him and the twisted desire it sparks inside of him.
~
Dennis has been learning the ropes of paranormal research. Robby shows him how to identify the strange notes in a news report that can indicate a paranormal occurrence. After about a week of digging, Robby finds a forum post of someone, presumably a teenager, discussing the weird happenings at their house. Normally it could easily be written off as a scary story told by an anonymous user. However the retellings are tinged with too much fear and confusion. The original poster seems desperate for any explanation besides the paranormal. Dennis gets the guy's email to talk to him more about the situation. After a few days of conversation they find themselves in Salina, Kansas to meet with the poster for coffee. They are posing as the television brand of ghost hunters. The guy, Lionel, seems pretty freaked out during the entire interaction and Robby can visibly see the way stress is causing his body to deteriorate. He is already pretty convinced this is the real deal. Lionel invites them to come to his house shortly after they finish their drinks.
They follow Lionel home. When they get there the man seems to be a little more antsy, eyeing them up with a sense of suspicion just a little too late. Robby makes a show of grabbing his “ghost hunting” bag and Whitaker pulls out a camcorder and makes sure to mention it is “infrared” to catch spirits. Lionel relaxes some. The house gives Robby the creeps as they walk up to the door, but he doesn’t mention it.
They get inside and Lionel paces awkwardly, waiting on them and looking furtively around the room. Robby thinks it would be best to get some distance from him. “Hey Lionel? We need to do a thorough walk through. Is that okay?”
“Oh. Yeah, I’ll just…hang out here.”
“Is there anywhere in particular you have noticed ghost activity?” Dennis chimes in, waving the camera around.
“Not really,” Lionel shrugs. “I have had weird shit happen in every room. I wish I just had one safe space.”
Dennis' face molds into a sympathetic frown.“We’ll set up some equipment around the house and see what we find, okay?”
With that they start going through the house. Eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Robby looks for any strange objects that could have brought in a spirit. The haven’t seen much yet.
“So, what are we looking for?” Robby has an EMF reader out as they linger in the guest bedroom, away from Lionel’s ears. The lack of activity hasn’t dissuaded Robby but he can tell Whitaker is growing antsy. Ghosts' preferred hours are unfortunately in the wee hours of morning. That means another late night in the books.
“Uh, an elevated EMF reading, cold spots, apparitions.” Dennis looks ready to leave. “We haven’t seen anything and we’ve been here for over an hour. Is this guy just crazy?”
Robby chuckles. Kids think everything is like the movies. “Ghost hunting is more of a waiting game unfortunately.”
He turns the EMF detector off though and tucks it away. “We’ll have better luck later tonight. Let's get some dinner and come back.”
“I saw an Olive Garden in town,” Dennis says, waggling his eyebrows around, “Unlimited soups and salads.”
“Sounds good to me.”
~
After a good meal, they return. The home owner took off to a hotel for the night so they could continue their investigation. A sign of true desperation or insanity. The guy has reported paranormal occurrences all over the house so they can’t just sit and wait. They split up since they’ve gotten a feel for the floor plan. Around 12 am, Robby is inspecting some strange marks on the baseboards when he hears a yelp and a thud from downstairs. He gets to the top of the stairs and hears a loud crash. Robby sprints down the stairs, scanning all the open spaces he passes. He finds Whitaker on the kitchen floor clearly trying to catch his breath. The kitchen cabinets are dangling off the wall, plates and glasses shattered on the tile.
Robby’s EMF detector is beeping and vibrating like crazy. He tucks it into his back pocket and helps Whitaker off the floor. “Are you okay?”
“A ghost just beat my ass,” Dennis responds out of breath. He’s definitely a little beat up but nothing serious from Robby’s assessment.
Robby laughs, trying to cover it with his hand. “Happens to the best of us. I guess now we know this guy isn’t bullshitting.”
Dennis groans as Robby pulls him out of the house. He lets the kid take a breather while he pulls some supplies out of the trunk.
Robby shows him the procedure for purifying a house, but his gut tells him it won’t be enough. Still, he has Whitaker work on the jars. Each is filled with crossroads dirt, angelica root, and van van oil to be placed inside the walls. One will be placed in the cardinal directions to purify the house. They return to the house and place the jars. Dennis cringes at having to punch holes in the drywall, but Robby reasons that it is worth the repairs to avoid being haunted. The last jar goes in and the response is immediate. The spirits rattle the walls and make a mess. Pictures coming off the wall, furniture flying around. It’s a real big show as they fight the cleansing spell. When it stops on a dime, Robby knows they have more work to do.
Robby calls the owner first thing in the morning and tells him that things are still getting worked out. He puts Dennis to work researching the history of the house now that they know the exact location. They manage to lock down the burial site after a few hours. They have to wait for the sun to go down before they desecrate graves, though. In the time in between, Robby walks him through the process. Dig, salt, and burn.
They arrive at the Gypsum Hill Cemetery at nine. The grave they are looking for is old. They go for the section of the cemetery that looks the most unkempt. The grave of their spirit is one of the last ones in the section. He and Dennis get to work, each armed with a shovel as they dig down to the remains. The night still has the chill of early spring but they are quickly coated with sweat. Robby is thanking his lucky stars that the ground isn’t still frozen. After two hours of digging, their shovels hit something hard. Robby leans down and pries the coffin open to find the remains of Jonathon Baker, their poltergeist.
Dennis doesn't balk at the sight of bones and withered old flesh. He has no issues pouring the gasoline and salt over the remains and dropping in the match. The fire grows fast, turning blue and Robby knows they’ve done it as he hears faint whispers and moans in the wind.
Robby watches the kid more than he watches the remains burning away, he watches the fire reflected in Dennis’ eyes. His expression is a mixture of pride and awe. The fire puts itself out naturally and they make quick work of piling the dirt back over the grave. Robby is exhausted by the time they finish. He’ll call Lionel tomorrow. Right now, he focuses on getting to the motel to go the fuck sleep.
~
Robby stops outside their room and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag and sits in the cool night air. It's a little past eleven and there are no other guests hanging out in the parking lot. He exhales slowly to watch the smoke drift up towards the dim overhead light. Dennis lingers around him. The kid is buzzing the exhilaration and adrenaline from the hunt. Robby smothers the smirk as he watches the kid build himself up to speak. “Can I-uh- have one of those?”
He is covered with a sheen of sweat from digging up the grave. The exhaustion hasn't hit him yet, but Robby knows he will wake up tomorrow sore in places unfamiliar.
“Sure,” Robby says around his smoke and digs the pack out of his pocket. He opens the pack and holds it out to him. Dennis’ fingers are shaking ever so slightly as he grabs a cigarette and the lighter from the box. It takes all his might not to laugh as Dennis fumbles around with the cigarette, not quite sure how to hold it. He really shouldn't mess with the kid, but the urge is too strong. Robby plucks them from his hands, he pushes the cigarette to Dennis’ lips, “Just hold it in your mouth and breathe in when I get the flame up, okay?”
Dennis has been caught off guard with his eyes almost bugging out of his skull. He nods and wraps his lips around the butt. Robby tracks the movement without meaning to. When he looks back up to Dennis’ eyes the kid has gone red in the face. Robby flicks the lighter in one smooth and the flame pops out.
“Breathe,” He reminds the kid. Then he takes a small step back. Dennis’ first inhale is a little too strong. He coughs a little, but recovers quickly and then it is just the two of them having a smoke.
When Robby finishes his cigarette he reaches out and puts his hand on Whitaker’s neck, giving him a squeeze. Apparently he's just giving in to all his base urges today. “You did pretty good out there, kid. A lot better than my first hunt.”
“What was your first hunt?” Dennis’ turned those eyes on him. The damned kid. Robby wishes he could teach him how to control his face, to hide that admiration Robby doesn’t fucking deserve. He chooses to ignore the other things he can see in that look.
Robby lights another cigarette and looks away. He hopes that he can wait out the awkward silence. Hopes that the kid will take the hint that he’s not trying to share his so-called tragic backstory.
“…Sir?” Of course not.
The memory has not faded. The passage of time has not dimmed the pain at all, the details have not slipped away with the decades. Robby can still see Adamson’s face in the emergency room as their deceased patient suddenly sat up in her bed and grabbed him. The way her mouth had morphed into a pit of razor sharp teeth and sunk into his mentor's neck. Robby had run, straight out of the hospital. He’d gotten a block away before he remembered the other staff members and the patients. He had turned back, heart threatening to burst out of his chest and the fear trying to lock his body into stone. He remembers getting back to the ER doors and seeing the blood everywhere. What he now knows was a fledging vampire turned as they were trying to save her only to become the first meal of her undead life.
“My first hunt was a vampire.” He hears Dennis take a sharp breath. “I was a resident doctor at a hospital in Pittsburgh when one turned under our care. It killed my mentor and I…started looking into the secrets of the world.”
“Did you kill it?” Whitaker asks. The proximity of his voice makes him look up. The kid is closer to him, standing just inches away, his cigarette burning itself down to the butt in his hand.
Robby plucks the cigarette from his fingers with his free hand, takes the last drag off of it and crushes it under his boot. “Yeah, I did. I had some help though.”
Dennis nods to indicate for him to continue. Robby takes another long pause to figure out the best way to explain this.
“I ended up meeting your parents on that hunt, and we ran across a nest together,” Robby remembers the Whitakers freshly married. The bed and breakfast was still run by Deborah’s parents back then. The couple were getting their own experience at hunting. “They were freshly hitched, you kids not even a twinkle in their eye.”
He hopes the reminder will make Whitaker back up. That he has thirty years on this kid who can’t hide the want in his eyes. He knows that hunting puts that buzz under your skin, but he isn’t the person Dennis needs to work it out with. The thought of it, of how easily Robby could have him, how he would fall apart under his hands… He focuses on his self-disgust to push it away.
“That fledgling had found itself a home with the nest. Your parents and I stalked them for months… hunting vampires takes a lot of time and planning.” Robby can remember the joy of meeting Abe and Debbie for the first time. It was nice having someone to cover your back. Something he hasn't had in a long time. “We took our time chasing them around and killing them off one by one.”
Robby can feel the muscles in his back starting to scream at him. He needs to sleep soon. “It wasn't as flashy as a big ambush on their location but we got ‘em. Every last one.”
With that, Robby finishes his own cigarette and moves to go inside. Dennis’ hands come to his chest, pushing gently to stop him. He’s too close now. Robby can smell his sweat and has to look down to meet his eyes. The boy doesn’t look like he knows what to do now. Robby goes to push past him and ignore whatever he thinks he might do. Dennis hands fist in his shirt, “Robby.”
He leans up and tries to pull Robby down, but the older man grabs his wrists and pushes him away. He holds Whitaker’s wrists tight enough that it might just bruise. He looks as stern and serious as he can as he says, “Don’t.” Then he lets go and goes inside to shower.