You've Got To Be Kidding Me (UC, Mi/L, Mature) 3/3 ~ 10/23

[Whimsicality]

Title: You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell verse settings belong to other very lucky people.
Pairings/Couples/Category: UC Michael/Liz
Rating: Mature
Summary: Michael confronts Liz on Halloween over her avoidance of her feelings, but discovers that aliens aren’t the only entities out there as both of their lives are threatened by supernatural phenomena.
Warning: So this is completely and utterly AU after season one, basically ignore everything that happened after Destiny. They did deal with some alien enemies during their Junior year, but by Senior year things were settled down. Tess never betrayed anyone, Alex is alive, and Jesse never existed, anything else important will be addressed in the story, but don’t expect a lot of details. Also, there is the occasional use of foul language, and references to naughty, sexy things. Consider yourself warned.
Author's Note: A funny, spooky, and romantic, Halloween story, written for the fall Vilondra Challenge on RH. I do not own the poem 'Haunted Palace' by Edgar Allen Poe

In the greenest of our valleys,
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace –
Radiant palace – reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion –
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair.

Liz stared at the house, a small smile of satisfaction curling her lips. It was old and stately, if a bit rundown, with its faded cream paint, still bright red shutters, wraparound porch with graceful columns, and elegantly carved front door. It was lovely, and absolutely perfect.

She had spent freshman year in the dorms, stuck with a succession of roommates who ranged from crazy to sluttish to almost criminal. She had barely succeeded in maintaining her perfect grade point average, and barely succeeded in concealing her ever growing abilities. By the time the beginning of sophomore year rolled around, her powers seemed to have finally stabilized, but she was not willing to spend any more time in the dorms than she had too.

It had taken her almost two months into the school year before she found what she was looking for, but this regal, if dilapidated, building on the outskirts of town perfectly suited her needs; and she had dipped into her inheritance from Grandma Claudia for the first time in order to put a down payment on it. It was big, bigger than she really needed, but very private; and given the nature of her life and the others lives, she had a feeling that a large, secluded property might come in handy for more than just some peace and quiet.

Her smile widened into a grin and she hefted a box onto her hip, gripped the handle of her suitcase, and walked up the faintly creaking steps into her new home. It had two floors along with an attic and a basement, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sunroom, family room complete with fireplace, formal dining room, kitchen with pantry, and a parlor on the second floor she fully intended to turn into a library. The realtor had also reported to her the local legends that whispered of a presence haunting the house; something she found entirely fitting since her grandmother had been a firm believer in residual energies lingering after significant events, even publishing the occasional paper on how the theory related to the study of archaeology and native beliefs.

The realtor had arranged for the power and gas to be turned on, but she still needed to call to get her phone and internet lines set up, although those would have to wait. She only had enough time to drop off her stuff before getting back to town in time for the two classes she had today, and then she’d agreed to help Claire set up for the Halloween Bash at the Student Center, where they both worked. She had absolutely no intention of attending said Bash; living in Roswell had killed all enjoyment in costume parties for her, but once Claire had learned of her organizational experience in setting up and decorating the Crashdown’s multiple themed events, she hadn’t been able to beg out of helping.

After carrying three more boxes and two more suitcases in from her car, and almost leaving her book bag behind, she finally locked the door behind her twenty minutes later. The drive back to campus took a little longer than she’d anticipated and she had seconds to spare to reach her class. She was out of breath by the time she sprinted from the parking lot to the building her lecture was in, but instead of entering just in time, she was stopped in her tracks by an all too familiar, tall and muscular frame leaning against the wall outside the door.

A pair of dark caramel eyes locked on hers, burning with fierce intent, as his sensual lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Going somewhere, Parker?”

Liz swallowed, hard, and reached a shaky hand up to run through her hair. “What…what are you doing here Michael?”

He chuckled, the sound more bitter than amused. “I got tired of waiting for you to call, or write, or pay any attention to me whatsoever.” Straightening from his slouched position, he stalked towards her, pace slow and menacing, making her heart palpitate frantically against her ribcage with a mixture of fear, and something else entirely. “You’ve never acted the coward before Parker, why are you starting now?”

She backed up until she was pressed against the opposite wall with him looming over her, bodies less than an inch away from contact, his body heat warming her, making her own body react in ways she’d been trying to forget. She opened her mouth to defend herself, but no words came out. She was being a coward. She hadn’t expected to feel the way she’d felt when she’d seen Michael over the summer, it was a depth of attraction she’d been completely unprepared for, and when two months of dancing around each other had culminated in that kiss…

She pulled off her headband and massaged her temples, cursing herself for ever agreeing to pick up an extra shift at the Crashdown. The air conditioner had been on the fritz and both the customers and the staff had been moody and restless and completely unable to maintain any pretense of civility. This was not how she’d wanted to spend her summer vacation. She sighed, pulling the ponytail out of her hair; at least she hadn’t had time to think of Michael once in the past eight hours, thank heavens for small blessings.

A sudden sound behind her made her whirl, heart in her throat, until she saw the object of her thoughts leaning in the office doorway, regarding her with thoughtful eyes and an amused quirk to his lips. She took a deep breath in an attempt to slow her pulse, now racing for an entirely different reason. “You scared me.” She said, irritated with herself for the obvious statement, and irritated with herself for the way her eyes were drawn repeatedly back to those lips, sensuous, smirking, and intriguing in a way she’d never found them before this summer, and shouldn’t be finding them now.

She jerked her eyes back to his as he chuckled, a deep rasping sound that sent shivers down her spine as her skin flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with the stifling heat in the restaurant. “Sorry.” He drawled, sounding decidedly amused. She shot him a look that was halfway to a glare, fueled by her frustration, and then felt her mouth go dry when his eyes flashed, darkening with intent.

He stopped leaning against the wall and walked towards her as she wondered frantically if she should hold her ground or flee up the stairs, to the air conditioned, and temptation free apartment above. He reached her before she could decide and suddenly his hands were cradling her face, fingers sinking into her hair with a tenderness that made her moan. He stared at her for a moment, their eyes locked and breaths mingling, before sealing their lips together. She arched into him, rising to the tips of her toes as their tongues tangled together. His mouth tasted of Tabasco and something uniquely Michael and it sated a craving, both physical and emotional, that she hadn’t realized the depths of until now, as all of her being thrilled with the feel of him against her.

Her father had come down the stairs then, interrupting them before they got any further, and she had fled, avoiding him for her remaining week in Roswell and leaving town with nothing more than a brief group goodbye as they all split to go their separate ways around the country, only Kyle and Michael remaining in New Mexico as both were attending UNM. She had picked up the phone a dozen times to call him, only to hang it up again, completely clueless as to what she wanted to say.

After a brief reconciliation with Max during the beginning of junior year, she hadn’t dated anyone in the group, and, in fact, had only dated one more person period – the president of the science club, a fact that Maria, Kyle, and Michael had mercilessly teased her about. Maria and Michael had also split amicably, and the only two couples who remained among those ‘in the know’ were ones who no one had expected to get together in the first place – Kyle and Isabel, and Alex and Tess. Pairings that still amazed her, especially given that Kyle and Isabel were maintaining a long-distance relationship from New Mexico to California, and that Max had made a play for Tess during their senior year. She’d rebuffed him for the lanky musician she was now happily living with in New York.

But Liz, other than the brief, bad idea of a relationship with Brad, hadn’t even considered dating anyone, much less Michael, her best friend’s ex. She knew he was attractive in a sort of abstract way, and they’d become good friends over the three years of high school, necessary given all that the group had been through, but something had changed when she’d first seen him lounging in one of the booths of the Crashdown her first day back in town, watching amusedly as Kyle and Alex bantered about some online video.

His hair was still long, curling just above his shoulders, and his typical plain grey cotton shirt was stretched tight across his shoulders, making her lick her lips unconsciously until she realized what she was doing and quickly turned away, eyes widening in shock. A shock she still felt as she stared up into his intimidating gaze and couldn’t stop herself from wanting to taste those irresistible lips again. When had she gone from respect and friendship to this wanton desire? And was it really worth the risk to pursue it? Watching his eyes darken at her continued silence, she added another question to her list – was it worth the risk to not give in?

Banners yellow, glorious, golden
On its roof did float and flow;
(This-all this-was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away

Unlike Liz, Michael had been aware of his own desire for the small brunette for years, although, first she had been off-limits due to Max and their secret, and then his desire for her blond friend had pushed thoughts of her to the background. In senior year, when both of their respective exes seemed to have moved on, he had contemplated approaching her, but she hadn’t seemed interested in that way, and so he had held off. That summer though, he had felt her regard, had seen the way she looked at him, felt the suddenly mutual chemistry that sizzled between them whenever they were in the same room.

He watched her to try to fight the attraction and had waited patiently until that night, when she was sweaty and disheveled and looking at him with that familiar fire in her eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, from tasting her. But then, he growled softly, then they’d been interrupted and she’d fled, going to near ridiculous lengths to avoid being alone with him, or near him at all. If she hadn’t kissed back with equal fervor, if she hadn’t melted against him and moaned softly into his mouth, he might have been willing to let it go. But she clearly wanted him as much as he wanted her, and the boy who fought his own desires had been left behind years ago.

Staring down into molten chocolate eyes, glinting with flecks of gold, he felt that same electric sizzle and gently brushed his fingers across her flushed cheek, smirking as her breath sucked in and her pupils dilated. He trailed his finger down her silken skin and traced her bottom lip with his thumb, the feel of her warm breath fluttering against his finger making a certain something swell in reaction, a reaction he carefully hid. “Running away doesn’t suit you, Parker.” He murmured, his lips bare inches from hers. He held the position for a moment, watching anxious expectation bloom in her eyes, and then pulled away, crossing his arms across his chest and studying her coolly. “I haven’t eaten since this morning, any recommendations for lunch?”

She gaped at him for a moment before her lips pressed together in a thin line and she stepped away from the wall she’d been pressed against. “Well, now that I’ve missed my class, I suppose I can take you somewhere to eat.” She snapped, eyes flashing angrily at him before she spun on her heel and stalked down the hall. He allowed a brief smile to cross his face and then followed; that had been easier than he thought it would be.

It wasn’t that he wanted her angry; no, contrary to popular belief his volatile relationship with Maria had been the exception not the norm when it came to what attracted him. But Liz had a problem with over-thinking things, and the only way he would be able to get her to not talk herself out of giving them a shot, was to keep her on an emotional edge and let her instincts, instead of her logic, rule the day. Besides, she was damn sexy when she was pissed off. So, he wiped the smirk off his face and followed silently, making sure to stay within a foot radius of her so she couldn’t tune out the effect his body had on her.

Instead of veering towards the parking lot, she headed across the grassy central quad of the university towards a small on campus café. She held open the door and smirked up at him, eyes still flashing angrily. “After you.”

H returned her smirk and sauntered leisurely into the restaurant, hiding a grin at the small growl he heard behind him. Lunch was going to be interesting

~

Lunch had been interesting, and tense, and fraught with unspoken sexual chemistry in every glance and ‘accidental’ touch. He found himself enjoying the strange seduction, and had to remind himself that he was irritated with her, that he couldn’t just kiss her the way he wanted to, because that wouldn’t accomplish anything more than her running away again. She needed to come to him, and he needed to be present so she couldn’t just ignore him, not this time.

She had insisted on going to her last class, and on helping her friend decorate for some stupid Halloween bash as promised, so he had wandered around the campus, trying to see why she loved it so, why she picked it over Harvard. After a few hours he thought he understood the appeal; it was smaller, quieter, but the students no less dedicated, and the place had an atmosphere that just reminded him of Liz, of that look she would get in her eyes when she was thinking deeply about something, be it a person, something alien related, or academic.

Now, he was waiting less than patiently in his car so that he could follow her home, something that made him both anxious and excited for the inevitable confrontation to come. He’d considered flying into town so he could force her to sit in the same car with him, but didn’t want to risk her leaving him behind without a convenient way to follow. She didn’t usually flee from confrontation, but when she did, she was extremely good at it and he wanted to give her as little advantage as possible.

The click of heels on pavement could suddenly be heard past his rolled down window and he smirked as she stopped next to his door, frowning down at him with her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, twice, before finally expelling a short burst of exasperated air and turning towards her own car, walking around the front and climbing into the driver’s seat. Shooting him one last glare, she pulled out of her spot and headed out of the parking lot at faster than really safe speeds. He chuckled and followed; she already knew it was a lost cause, if she wanted to resist until the end, well, as he’d noticed earlier, she was pretty darn sexy when she was pissed off, so he couldn’t say he minded.

[Whimsicality]

A/N: Thanks for the feedback guys! This part starts to bring in the spooky







Wanderers in that happy valley
Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well-tuned law
Round about a throne, where sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

She led him on a merry chase – long, winding, and through as many complicated intersections and weird little roads as possible. In the end he had to tap into the latent connection between them, established when she’d first developed powers back in high school, to get an idea of her direction. But that, and some judicious speeding, did the trick, and soon they were on a desolate, straight stretch of road that ended with a dirt driveway and a slightly dilapidated, but still beautiful, older house that made his fingers twitch for his sketchpad.

It was the kind of house that had a presence, where if you closed your eyes and touched the walls you could almost feel the history, see everything it had lived through, everyone who had lived in it. The kind of house you wished could talk, or in their case, wished could trigger flashes that lasted more than a second. It was perfectly Liz.

He smiled and parked behind her, then walked to the side of her car where she was still sitting behind the wheel, staring into space with an expression on her face that he couldn’t read, but found encouraging all the same because it was clear he still had her off balance. He leaned against the side of her car and gestured towards the house once she turned to look at him. “Nice house.”

She gave him a faint smile in return before her face carefully blanked of all expression, her usually expressive eyes shuttering as she refused to meet his gaze. She gathered her things and opened the car door, brushing impatiently past him when he refused to give her any space. He smirked and followed closely behind her, bare inches of space between them all the way up the porch and while he waited for her to unlock the door, humming Seek and Destroy by Metallica under his breath. She glared at him when he almost bumped into her as they walked inside, and then slammed the ornate wooden door with a jarring thud that made him chuckle.

She almost broke then; her jaw clenching as she bit back angry words before spinning on her heel and stalking towards the large kitchen, throwing her bag onto the counter with vicious force and then leaning on the counter, her eyes squeezed shut and her small frame vibrating with tension. He reached out, and then stopped, hand hovering a foot away from her shoulder, feeling a flicker of uncertainty. Was he wrong about what she wanted, about his method of approach? Did she run away because of who he was, or what he was? Because she had already lost her dreams, her humanity, and her innocence to the alien abyss, and couldn’t bear the thought of throwing herself back in?

A strangled sound escaped her throat and she angrily scrubbed at her face before turning to face him, her eyes sparkling with anger, tears, and something else, something he was suddenly afraid to identify. “You terrify me.” She whispered.

He frowned, stomach clenching, not sure how to take that, and then she laughed, amusement laced with something darker. “How much I already love you, scares me.” He gaped and she laughed again, a hint of a sob catching at the back of her throat. “That wasn’t supposed to happen again. I wasn’t supposed to ever feel like this again, ever.”

She took a step towards him, lightly trailing her fingers down his still outstretched arm. “Wanting you, that I could handle. Kissing you…” She trailed off and managed a shaky smirk. “That I thoroughly enjoyed.” She shook her head and sighed, lacing her fingers through his and pulling their entwined hands to rest over her heart. “You weren’t supposed to move in here, to seep in so deeply that I didn’t even realize I cared until after that, amazing, kiss.”

Michael found himself speechless. He had expected much more of a fight before she would admit her feelings, and he had never expected that honest, that humbling, of a confession. He hadn’t even let himself admit to such depth of feelings for her, not wanting to acknowledge something that might not be returned, no matter how long it had been building, and had only been hoping for their mutual attraction to be out in the open where it could be explored until it grew as he’d hoped, or fizzled, leaving him knowing that at least he’d tried.

“Liz, I…” He trailed off, cursing his less than stellar communication skills, and then buried his other hand in her silky hair, pulling her towards him for a fierce, heated kiss, trying to express physically everything that he could not express with words.

She moaned into his mouth, pressing into him, and he flicked his tongue against hers, reveling in the feel of her body, and her presence, both now his until she decided otherwise. He let go of her hand and traced his way down her body, circling her tiny waist as he crushed her warm curves tighter to him, debating between the equally strong urges of ravishing her against the kitchen counter, or seeing if she’d moved her bed in yet.

A sudden bang interrupted his thoughts and they jolted apart, all of his protective instincts flaring to life as their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment, before they both silently turned – him facing the entrance they had come through while she covered his back; they’d learned their lessons well in high school. No further sounds followed, but he gestured for her to stay put and warily prowled back into the hallway. The front door was still shut and there was no hint of movement in the hallway, or the living room on the other side. Another bang echoed through the house and he flinched, then stalked into the living room, the direction the noise seemed to be coming from.

A soft sound from behind him made him whirl, and he glared when he realized it was just Liz, ignoring his instructions to stay put. She raised an eyebrow at him before looking pointedly past him. His glare intensified, but she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, so he grit his teeth and turned back around, zeroing in on the corner of the room with its large brick fireplace, his best guess for the origination of the noises. “Could it be something on the roof? Or an animal trapped in the flue?” She asked quietly, coming to stand beside him.

He fought his still strong instinct to shove her behind him, knowing it wouldn’t be welcomed, and nodded, staring at the fireplace contemplatively, before stating reluctantly. “If it’s an animal, we should probably try to get it out.” He didn’t relish the thought of trying to get a frightened, claw or beak or teeth wielding animal, out of the small, soot filled space, but he supposed that whatever it was didn’t deserve to die, trapped.

He took a step towards the fireplace, half hoping she would suggest another course of action, when they both heard a loud thud, coming not from the fireplace, but from the kitchen they’d just left.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

Liz jumped, glancing worriedly at Michael before turning around to face the kitchen. She doubted it was alien related; if one of their enemies wanted them, well they wouldn’t stoop to scary noises. It also didn’t seem like Michael’s style to arrange a Halloween prank, not even to drive her into his arms, that was more of a Kyle, or worse, Kyle and Alex, type scheme.

It also didn’t feel like there was another person in the house. The powers she had developed as a result of Max’s healing her weren’t quite like the original hybrids, definitely more mental than physical, and she could feel it when other people were around, and could usually feel if said people weren’t human themselves, something that had come in handy during their tumultuous junior year when her abilities first manifested. Whatever was causing these noises didn’t have that undeniable spark of life, which ruled out someone else messing with them.

Maybe Grandma Claudia had been right, and maybe those local legends had some basis in reality. She chuckled softly, or maybe there was a perfectly rational explanation, since she was sure even mentioning the possibility of a haunting to Michael, on Halloween no less, would lead to a loud, disbelieving scoff and a tirade on not giving into hysteria. So instead she raised an eyebrow at her, well, her something, they hadn’t exactly gotten around to titles yet, and asked, with mild sarcasm, “Going to insist on going first?”

He smirked and didn’t bother replying verbally, instead walking past her, casually brushing his fingers over the bared skin just above her hip as he did so. She shivered and then glared at his back before following, mentally listing all the ways she could shake his composure now that she’d already ripped away all shreds of denial. But all of her increasingly complex and or naked plans, disappeared the moment she almost collided with Michael’s back as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, then peered around him to see every cupboard door open and every drawer pulled out, the chairs and table knocked over, and her books and papers scattered around the room.

“Oh my God.” She whispered, leaning against him in shock, grateful for the comforting arm he immediately wrapped around her. Suddenly she was less worried about convincing Michael of the possibility of a legitimate haunting, and more worried about how the hell one dealt with a less than placid spirit or whatever it might be.

“So which of your friends is most likely to do something like this?” Michael asked sardonically, frowning as he gestured towards the room.

She shot him a disbelieving look at the idea that this was a prank, and then held a finger to his lips when he started to speak again. “Shhh. Did you hear that?” A low whispering had started in the room, too soft for her to make out the words, but sending an ominous shiver down her spine. She was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.

Michael frowned, obviously hearing the same thing, and stared down at her. “You can’t be seriously believing this crap.”

She cocked a challenging eyebrow, pulling away from him slightly. “You believe in aliens, why not ghosts?” He scoffed, loudly, and the door to the pantry slammed open, cold air whistling through the room for a moment before all sound stopped, making both of them start in surprise. She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Come on, let’s go find whoever’s hiding down there so I can scare the crap out of them and we can get back to…” He trailed off and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making her both laugh and roll her eyes right back at him.

She waved an arm towards the darkened rectangle and gave him a simpering smile. “After you, brave sir.”

He chuckled and planted a light kiss on her lips, then carefully made his way across the book and paper strewn kitchen floor, her following close behind. Despite the banter, and the pleasant little jolt from the kiss, her heart was still racing primarily out of fear. There were still no signs of life pinging on her radar other than her and Michael, so she knew that there was no one hiding in the darkened pantry, which was large enough to almost be considered a cellar, and which they really should not be walking willy-nilly into. She did however, feel a distinct and growing sense of malevolence and she was completely clueless about what they could possibly do about it, once Michael accepted that this wasn’t some prank.

Alien enemies she could deal with, even FBI agents although she’d rather not have to, but some sort of angry ghost was completely outside of her experience, and frankly Hollywood gave spirits an even worse reputation than aliens. There was the occasional alien friendly flick, but other than Casper, she couldn’t think of anything implying that the restless dead were anything other than dangerous and/or batshit crazy. Which meant that both her original plans of a quiet evening unpacking, or her newer plans of a not-so-quiet evening breaking in her bed with Michael, were both highly unlikely to actually happen. Like either of them really needed anymore bad memories, or nights that she’d rather not have lived through.

An icy sensation trickled down her spine as she stepped through the doorway and onto the first of three steps leading down into the pantry, unwilling to go any further. Michael was just ahead of her grumbling at the fact that the light switch hadn’t worked, making her stomach sink. This was such a bad idea.

Michael’s hand started glowing, revealing floor to ceiling rows of empty, dusty shelves, and absolutely no place to hide for their supposed prankster. He huffed in irritation and turned towards her, just as the door behind her slammed shut, sending her tumbling down the stairs, Michael barely catching her before she hit the floor. He pulled her to her feet and she glared fiercely at him. “This is all your fault. Going into the dark scary room to prove that there is no ghost is the worst horror movie cliché ever, and if we die I am so tormenting your ass in the afterlife.”

His lips twitched suspiciously, but he pulled her closer to him, wrapping both of his arms around her tightly. “I’m not going to let you die. Even if there really is some wannabe Casper in here, there is no way it’s going to get the better of us.”

Before she could reply with another scathing retort about tempting fate, the shelves started to rattle and the temperature in the room instantly dropped by at least thirty degrees. She groaned and buried her head in his chest, goose bumps from cold and fear crawling down her arms. “We’re so going to die.”

[Whimsicality]

dreambeliever: Aww, thanks! Seeing your feedback totally made my day, I love hearing that my characterizations are believable enough to even appeal to fans of other pairings. Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy my stories
barbara87413: Thanks for the feedback! Yeah, I loved having her shock him too, it was fun
tiredmuse: Thanks muse! I'll be posting chapter two over there in a minute, and I'm so glad you're enjoying it!



A/N: And here's the third and final part, thank you all for your feedback, I had fun writing this fic, so I'm glad you all had fun reading it.











But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!);
And, round about his home, the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

Michael felt the first inklings of genuine unease when it became clear that the pantry was empty. When the door slammed shut and things started to escalate, he began to seriously consider the idea that maybe this wasn’t a bad joke, and that maybe there was truly something, he hated to even think it, supernatural going on. That thought both unnerved, and angered him. He didn’t want to know that something other than aliens existed – his life was complicated enough as it was. Not to mention that whatever issues this ghost had, they were interrupting his first chance at having a sex life in three years. Hell no.

Unfortunately, while confident in his abilities to blow up anything or anyone physically threatening them, he wasn’t so sure his powers would have any effect whatsoever on an incorporeal spirit, other than pissing it off even more than his careless words already apparently had. He felt Liz shiver against him and tightened his grip on her. “Hey, if we survived those damn skins attacking us in Frazier Woods, we can survive one angry ghost.”

The rattling grew louder and the temperature dropped again. Liz’s giggle turned into a groan. “You really need to stop talking.”

He chuckled, silently agreeing that maybe he shouldn’t be testing the temper of something fundamentally lacking a sense of humor, and began to walk the two of them towards the door. If he couldn’t talk, he could act, and while he might not be able to blow up a ghost, he could damn well blow up a door if it wouldn’t open. He reached his arm up the stairs and tried the doorknob first, twisting and pushing futilely against whatever force was holding them captive.

“You’re gonna have to replace your door, babe.” He whispered into her ear, turning them around so that he was between her and the door. She groaned again, but nodded. He curled himself around her and reached one hand behind him, drawing on and focusing his power. Before he could unleash it, he felt a sudden breeze on the back of his neck as the door swung silently open. “Why do I think this is a bad sign.” He muttered, dropping his hand with a sigh.

Liz smiled weakly up at him, barely visible in the dim light now filtering in from the kitchen. “Because, contrary to popular belief, you do use your brain sometimes?”

He glared at her half-heartedly. “Smart ass.”

She grinned and stood on tip-toes to kiss him on the lips. “But I’m your smart ass. Now come on, let’s get out of here before the ghost decides to kill you after all.” He growled softly, but returned the kiss, before slowly leading her up the stairs, hand held out defensively in front of him. They managed to get up the stairs and back into the kitchen unimpeded, but the moment they stepped onto the linoleum, the table on the other side of the room, still tipped on its side, came flying towards them.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, yanking Liz to the floor and letting loose the stream of power that had been itching to be unleashed, the table breaking into several, equally lethal pieces still hurtling towards them. Liz grabbed his hand, feeding him some of her own power, and he shielded them with a thin barrier of telekinetic force, the chunks of wood clattering to the floor, vibrating restlessly for a moment before falling still.

His heart was pounding and a familiar mix of fear and fury was burning through his veins, a form of tension he hadn’t felt in two years, not since the last time their lives were threatened. This had just gone from a slightly spooky, frustrating encounter, to an actual threat, and all traces of humor faded as he stared down into Liz’s white face. He was not going to lose her, not now.

Cautiously standing up, he pulled her to his feet, cradling her to him with one arm while keeping his other extended protectively in front of them. He eyed the pieces of wood warily for any signs of movement as they slowly edged through the debris, making their way slowly but surely towards the hallway, and the front door at the end of it. They were almost all the way through, Liz keeping an eye on the wood behind them, when the four wooden chairs suddenly flew into the air, not towards them, but towards the entrance to the hallway, stacking themselves into a strangely menacing barricade, chair legs pointing towards them and vibrating with what could only be seen as sinister intent.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Liz spat, making Michael chuckle shakily at her unusual use of foul language, no matter how much the situation warranted it.

He scratched at his eyebrow and sighed; this was only going to get worse. Liz only knew those horror movie clichés because of the multiple movie nights during which the girls had lost choice of movies to the guys, and while he was more of an action flick guy himself, Kyle and Alex seemed to have a fetish for horror movies ranging from cheesy to, occasionally, actually chilling. Meaning that he knew their chances of getting out of this alive, much less unscathed, depended entirely on the fact that they weren’t completely human, and were both extremely stubborn.

Glaring fiercely at the pile of possessed chairs, he glanced down at Liz, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head towards the remains of the table behind them. She nodded her understanding and turned away from him slightly, both hands raised to protect their back. He smiled grimly and raised his own hands towards the still vibrating barricade. “Game on.” He muttered, and then drawing on every ounce of his rage and protective instinct, sent a wall of glowing white power towards the chairs, demolishing them into pieces barely bigger than a splinter. Sharp splinters that remained hovering in the air before viciously flinging themselves towards his tender flesh.

He frantically waved his hands, remembering long ago lessons with Tess and set his powers to vibrating the molecules until the pieces of wood burst into flames, the last few crumbling into ash barely an inch from his face. He slumped in relief and Liz slipped one of her hands into his, squeezing it comfortingly while her other guarded them from the still potentially lethal remains of the table. “You know Parker; I think you need to seriously reevaluate your decision to purchase this house.”

She chuckled wearily. “You think?” Before he could reply, she bumped her hip against his. “Now get moving, we still have a hallway to get through and I’m getting extremely sick of being attacked by a house.”

He grunted in amusement and began to slowly walk towards the now clear entrance to the hallway, gaze bouncing back and forth between the front door and the living room across the way, afraid that the couch or extremely heavy oak coffee table would join the ranks of suicidal furniture. Nothing so much as twitched and miraculously, they made it to the front door without so much as one more incident. Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better.

“You ready?” He murmured, gently squeezing Liz’s hand before dropping it, so they would each have both hands free for defense. She nodded, giving him a grin and brave smile he hadn’t seen since that horrific night in Frazier woods, a memory that wasn’t exactly comforting even if they had all made it out alive.

“Okay.” He said slowly, reaching for the door handle. Amazingly, he managed to open it without resistance, and breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the clear, though dark, sky outside. His relief was only momentary, as the malevolent force made itself known once more, shoving him through the door so hard he crashed painfully to his knees on the wooden porch, the door then crashing shut behind him, leaving Liz trapped on the other side.

And travelers now within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows, see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a rapid ghastly river,
Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh-but smile no more.

Liz’s heart seized in her chest when Michael was yanked away from her and flung from the house. The door slamming shut with an ominous crack almost drove her to the ground, tears pricking the corners of her eyes until anger overwhelmed her fear. How dare this ramshackle collection of boards and paint, one she had purchased with her Grandmother’s money and been nothing but complimentary towards until it tried to kill her, how dare it attack them, how dare it try to separate her from Michael?

Her hands clenched into fists and she scowled darkly at the door. “I’m getting out of here, if I have to burn you to the ground.” An eerie and somehow angry groan echoed through the house and her glower intensified. Before she could snap off another comment, and possibly irritate it into trying to kill her again, sudden pounding began to shake the door and Michael’s muffled voice could be heard on the other side.

“Michael!” She called, pressing against the door and twisting the knob, a few frustrated tears leaking out as it refused to give, leaving them separated from each other by just a few inches of surprisingly sturdy wood. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but she could feel his reassuring presence through their connection, and it helped her fight off the encroaching despair. Despair she realized, that wasn’t entirely internal. In addition to blocking the door, and preventing her from communicating with Michael, the spirit or presence or whatever the hell it was, was influencing her mood.

As if noticing her regard, the feeling of hopelessness increased, almost choking her with a rising tide of dark emotion. She gasped for breath, leaning against the door as a pit of misery threatened to swallow her whole. A spark of warmth burned inside of her, the memory of the kiss she had shared with Michael just feet away and less than an hour before, and she drew on his presence, a bond the spirit couldn’t sever, to fan that spark into a full flame, burning away the malevolent presence until she could breathe again.

Her victory seemed to infuriate the spirit and the walls began to shake, thuds, bangs, and the high pitched shatter of broken glass sounding from the kitchen and living room. She tried the doorknob again, smashing her fist against the door when it remained stuck, and then cursing as sharp pain shot through her hand. That hadn’t been the best idea. Light flickered at the edges of the door and she smiled grimly when she realized that Michael must be attempting to use his powers to open it, attempting and failing.

Slumping against the wood, she stared down the darkened hallway. “So, house, are you one of those restless Hollywoodesque spirits who wants revenge for the wrongs done to you? Or are you just a mindless psychopath?”

The walls flexed and the damn thing chuckled in response, an odd grating sound that made her shudder. The whispering started up again, louder, clearer, and so close to her ear that a muffled shriek escaped her throat. It was you.

She turned her head frantically, terrified at the thought of a physical manifestation, and cried out in frustration. “What was me? I just signed the papers yesterday!”

So much power. The walls shook again with the strange disembodied laughter. Just a little taste, and then you came back with him. You woke me.

Liz’s mouth fell open in horror. This could not be happening. Evil alien shapeshifters and heartless FBI agents should be the worst things they had to worry about; having the power to awaken angry spirits was so not part of the package. Not to mention the fact that if it was telling the truth, the longer she was trapped, the stronger it got. She groaned, angrily running a hand through her hair as her mind raced for ways out of her impossible situation; this night was not supposed to go like this.

That spark of burning essence that was pure Michael still glowed on the other side of the door and she reached for it, seeking courage and inspiration. She found both. She didn’t know if it was her fear, or desperation, or just the new understanding between them, but that latent bond flared to life with a strength it had never possessed before and suddenly she couldn’t just feel him, but could hear him as well. He could see everything she’d just been taunted with and she felt his grim, comforting humor wrap around her. ‘If it likes power, I saw we see how much it can handle.’

He fed her every bit of electric energy he had through their new connection and it mingled with and increased her own until she felt like she would burst from the sheer amount of tingling power coursing through her veins. Turning around and ignoring the strengthening vibrations from the floor and walls, she raised her hands towards the door, focusing all of that power on one thing. Pain flared across her back from an unseen attack, and she stumbled slightly but otherwise ignored it, waiting until she knew that Michael was safely off the porch before unleashing the energy.

The door flew off its hinges with a satisfying crack, skidding across the porch and slamming through the railings onto the grass below. The breath she’d been holding exploded in relief and she took one shaky step forward, then another, ignoring the frustrated howling behind her and not stopping until she reached the stairs, when sharp, stinging pains in her back reminded her that she’d been injured and she felt her knees weaken. Michael reached her before they gave out and slipped an arm around her waist, careful to keep it low, then helped her across the grass towards the car.

Leaning against the car on her forearms, she winced when he carefully pulled the back of her shirt up, the material sticking to the blood trickling down her skin. “I am going to tear that house down with my bare hands.” Michael growled, the fierce anger in his voice at complete odds with the tender way he was touching her.

She tilted her head so she could see him over her shoulder, a move she instantly regretted as it tugged on the wounded skin of her back, and pouted at him. “I love my house Michael, you can’t tear it down.” His hands, already beginning to glow with healing energy, stopped moving as he stared at her in disbelief. She giggled, partially out of amusement at his expression, and partially because the tension of the night was the catching up to her, and clarified. “However you can totally tear the spirit up with your bare hands, or however you want to kill it.”

“It sliced you up with several dozen glass shards; it’d better hope all I do is kill it.” He muttered, turning his attention back to her wounds, a soothing golden glow removing both the remaining pieces of glass, and the pain, making her slump against him in relief. His hands continued to caress her bared skin making her moan softly as the adrenaline in her body shifted its attention to other things. “What do I get for killing it?” He whispered into her ear, fingers making gentle circling motions as his hands moved up her sides beneath her shirt, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts.

“You mean what do you get when you make Alex look up an exorcism for you?” She gasped out as he dropped a kiss on her neck, his mouth trailing down her throat, licking and nibbling at her sensitive skin.

“Yes.” He admitted unashamedly, his large, warm hands cupping her breasts as his index fingers lightly teased her nipples, making her bones melt as another moan escaped her. The porch rattled ominously behind them, a clear reminder on why giving into their desires right then and there would be a bad idea, and she sighed in disappointment when he lowered his hands, then wrapped his arms around her, dropping his chin onto her head. “So, Parker, how do you feel about getting a hotel until I can Whitman to drag his ass down here?”

She laughed and turned in his arms so she could face him, a maneuver that required tilting her head back far enough that she instantly resolved to increase her collection of high heels. “I don’t know, Michael, it is Halloween.” She drawled, batting her eyelashes innocently. “Are you sure you don’t want to go trick or treating?”

He chuckled and brushed his lips against her, sending a pleasant tingle all the way down to her core. “I think we’ve had enough tricks for the night. I’m ready for my treat.” She giggled again and kissed him back as he swung her into his arms and carried her towards his car. “Although I won’t turn down involving candy if you’re feeling kinky.”