A/N: WOW! Some of you are still reading! Thank you so much for coming back to review and comment again! Seriously, knowing that there are people who still care about this story and have enjoyed it so much really gives me fuel to keep on going. I'm really touched that you all remember this fic and are interested in seeing it finished.

Last chapter felt short, so GOTTA KEEP GOIN. I hope this one is okay, and worth the wait.

13. Hello

As it turned out, dying was way easier than un-dying.

Brief discovered this shortly after leaving the cabin and tumbling into whatever matrix served as the after-life. It was like falling into the deepest reaches of the ocean – cold, tight, too dark to see anything. The pressure was stuck to him at all sides, every step dragging, his body heavy, freezing, stiff, slow. Second by second, it was getting more and more difficult. His teeth were bared, his arms out in front of him to try and dig through the molasses-quality of the air.

He had a sinking feeling that if he got trapped in here, he'd never get out.

There was no time to analyze it, or indulge in it. Whatever this place was, it was an inbetween. Like a hub between places Brief wanted to be. He couldn't spare time to think too much about it. Later, he told himself, when he was out. Later, he'd think about what this prison might have been. Until then he just had to keep..on..moving-!

Flash of brilliant light.

Heavy weight to his chest.

Pressure giving way.

Tumbling.

His head cracked against something hard, Brief couldn't breathe for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, one hand clenched against the heart of his jumpsuit – since when did he get that back..? – he saw the shadow of someone in the distance. All that darkness had brightened up around the edges, a sheet of white straight ahead standing proud like a window to the sun, making it impossible to see anything but the black outline of whoever was walking toward him.

It was tall. Angular. Billowing. Instinctively, Brief didn't like it. Blinking against the glare of light, Brief tried to shield his eyes and get a better idea of what it was. Curiously, the pain from whatever force had thrown him had already dissipated, if it had even been there at all. It was difficult to sense anything besides pressure and temperature. No pain anymore.

As the thing approached him, the white light began to change. It faded to light pink, then darker and darker to red, and darker still to a UV glow. Brief looked down to his hands, glowing nearly blue in the light as it illuminated all areas of the room equally, swallowing both him and this encroaching entity into a space all to themselves.

"To have made it this far," the being said, its voice a hundred voices in one. "You must have left something unfinished."

Back when he'd first met the sisters, Brief knew he would have pissed himself if he'd ever come into contact with this thing. Just before he died, he might not have been so afraid, but he certainly would have been curious. It felt like ages ago. Right now, he didn't care. He just wanted to get back home. Whatever was in his way could exist beyond his own comprehension, if it needed to. Just so long as it moved.

Brief didn't ask who are you, or what is this place? It didn't matter. Instead, he said, "I have to get back to Earth!"

"And why should I let you?" asked the being.

That gave Brief pause. Was this some kind of test? He looked at the creature, sizing it up. It was huge, thin, indistinct, the details of it lost under a wash of UV light. He couldn't discern it. Maybe he wasn't supposed to. But he felt no fear. Just determination. There was this hunch inside him that said he'd only get to try this once. He needed to make the most of it.

"Because people there need me."

"Do you think you are the first to give such an excuse?"

"There are things I need to do," Brief insisted, hands balling into fists. "Stuff I have to say."

The being sighed. "Everyone does. Tell me what makes you so special? Why not just wait?"

For a moment, Brief really let himself think about them – the sisters. He was a little surprised to feel an aching warmth in his heart, the first thing he'd felt since leaving the cabin. A smile tugged at his lips, and he dropped his eyes with a shake of his head.

"Knowing Panty and Stocking, it'll take them way too long to make it here," he said. His urgency was exchanged for nostalgia. "They're really.. not so good at their jobs."

Memories of them before had been tainted by the sensation of his own death, those last few chaotic, bloody moments. But he thought now of those times before, when they'd cruised the streets in See Through. Brief always in the back, watching their hair whip in the wind. Listening to them complain or laugh or tease one another. He pressed a hand to his heart when it throbbed again, almost a little painful, like it was trying to beat again. His smile faded away. He didn't have a heartbeat anymore, did he?

"There's just things that can't wait that long," he said, closing his eyes. "Not for things like this."

"Three days," the being said softly, tone layers peeling away from one another, until it seemed to be just one single voice. One that sounded so strangely familiar. "You have three days, before you will begin to corrupt."

Brief blinked, looking up again. The being was changing shape now, the lights around them shifting again to a warmer hue. Candlelight. "What?" he asked it. "Three days?"

The light was around him now, and looking down, Brief realized it was coming from him. Every inch of his skin, his hair, his clothes – they were glowing with a soft, fiery light. The shadows around him were chased back, and into the ring of gentle light stepped the figure. It was his height now, and it wore his face. It was another Brief, though its skin was dark and veined red, its eyes empty and yellow. So was the inside of his mouth, as he spoke.

He looked like the ghosts Brief had lost his life fighting against.

"Three days, or risk losing yourself."

Before Brief could speak again, the ghostly, hellfire version of Brief reached out and touched him. It burned, and Brief caught his breath in a strangled gasp when the being's hand sunk into him. In one fluid motion, it stepped inside him, fitting to him like a glove, and the sensation of fire seared through his veins. It was quick, like a flash grenade, and afterward he was left stumbling with the sensation of feeling heavier, but.. whole, in a way. Put together in a way he hadn't been prior to leaving the cabin.

Beneath his feet, the floor lit up. Tiles, one after another, pinging to life and leading a straight path into the darkness. And it was that which he followed, narrowing his eyes at a pin-point of light far, far ahead. He'd figure out all the particulars later. Right now, it was hard enough to just keep walking. He felt heavier, and that ocean-feeling was washing back over him again. Tight, vast, dark, deep.

But he had to keep going. He had to.

It was summertime now. Blazing hot in Daten City. Kids would bust off the tops of fire hydrants just to get a little water in the air. Even ghost activity had slowed down. Garterbelt called less often, hadn't visited since the calendar flipped to June. Nobody wanted to do anything, and Stocking couldn't blame them. She didn't want to do a single fucking thing either. It was just too hot.

"Pass the ice," Panty said, sprawled out on the floor and barely clothed.

"We're out," Stocking said, in much the same state a few feet away.

Three months ago, Brief died. Stocking hadn't visited his grave just yet and wasn't sure when she was planning to. What she did know was that she could finally think about him without wanting to curl up and never move again. Some days, anyway. Panty finally broke her abstinence-streak last Thursday with a virgin who'd been so nervous at the bar he'd spilled beer on her dress. She made love to him, and he hadn't berated her when she cried after it was over. Stocking only knew this because Panty sometimes talks in her sleep.

"How the shitting hell can we be out?"

"There's no more left in the freezer. Go check."

Today was one of those other days though – one of the days when Stocking thought about Brief and didn't want to move. She missed his voice. She missed the sound of him nearby, tinkering with an invention or crinkling a snack-wrapper. She missed listening to him prattle on about all the things she thought she'd never care about, like perpetual motion, ectoplasm, and if Superman and Goku were to fight, which one of them would win. She missed all the things she never got to know, like how his hair felt when she ran her fingers through it, if he could cook better than she could, what Brief even wanted to do with the rest of his life -

Stocking closed her eyes tightly, her throat closing up. She'd never know.

Panty must have sensed something, because she got up to get the ice without another word about it. Stocking stared at a crack in the wall, trying to think of nothing at all, until she heard Panty shriek from the kitchen. Her thoughts scattered immediately, and she scrambled up from the floor. That wasn't the sort of shriek that meant Panty was angry, excited, or even surprise. She sounded scared.

Stocking slid into the kitchen with one hand at her thigh, fingers digging under the lip of her namesake accessory. Ever since that ghost attack on the church – Brief's death – both the girls were paranoid when it came to any strange happenings at home.

"What?" Stocking demanded, eyes darting around. All she could see was the freezer door swinging wide open, and Panty with her gun out, huddled behind one of the kitchen chairs. "Why'd you scream like a little bitch?"

"It opened by its-fucking-self!"

"The freezer?" Stocking demanded, staring at the appliance. That was unusual, for sure, but this place was old as ancient dog shit. The hinges were probably loose. "Ugh, is that all? You made me get up for that?"

"I'm serious, bitch!" Panty crowed, waving her gun around, gesturing to the inert refrigerator. "It moved and I am not okay with that."

Heaving a sigh, they both resolved to stare at the fridge in silence for a while. Panty, with complete vigilance, and Stocking with utter boredom. And eventual exasperation. They were letting all the chill out of the ice box, and in this summer heat, it was all they had. The freezer wouldn't make more ice if the door was hanging open like that. She crossed the kitchen despite Panty's sputtering warnings and wiggled the freezer door.

"It's just old," she said, slamming it shut. "Calm your tits."

"You didn't see it!" Panty squawked, leaning around Stocking to eye the fridge again. "I fucking swear, it just – "

And now it was Stocking's turn to shriek because at that very moment, a sensation of cold fingers slipped like silk up her arms and swept hair back from her neck. She leaped like a startled cat and sprung, rolling forward and coming up with both her kitana out, facing the direction of the fridge. Panty stared at her with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"Something touched me," Stocking said, not taking her eyes away from the spoke where she'd stood before.

"I told you, you stupid bitch – "

"I know, can you please shut the fuck UP for a second – "

They both screamed when an empty beer can rolled off the table and plopped onto the floor. Panty shot it out of reflex, blowing the can straight into the cabinets, where it bounced and ping-ponged all over the room before slamming right into Chuck's panting maw as he came loping into the kitchen to see what the ruckus was about.

"We're haunted!" Panty was screeching. "We're fucking haunted!"

"We can't be haunted!" Stocking was screeching back. "We purified the church! Ghosts can't penetrate the barrier!"

"DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING CAN – "

"YES, YOU SKANK, I SAW IT – "

Another chorus of shrieks when the chair in front of Panty moved, shifting as if bumped, and the sisters fled into the living room, weapons still drawn. They usually weren't so jumpy when it came to ghosts, but ever since that tragedy months back, they had gotten cautious. Not to mention they couldn't even see this one. It was completely invisible. Unless it was the wind in there, knocking over cans and opening doors.

"How do we fight this thing?" Panty asked under her breath, gun cocked at the archway that led into the kitchen. Stocking still had her swords drawn, standing stiff next to Panty.

"If it has a physical form and is just invisible," she said, thinking through it as she spoke. "We throw shit on it so we can see it. If it's just.. energy, I don't know, we're fucked."

"Some help you are."

"Well, why don't you come up with the plans then!?"

"Since when has that ever been my fucking job?!"

It never had been. Whenever planning was involved, that was usually Brief's responsibility. The thought made Stocking's heart ache, and she gritted her teeth. Whatever this fucking thing was, she would exterminate it promptly, without mercy. Ghosts had taken Brief from them, and she wouldn't tolerate one here, in this place, where he once had been.

And so the hunt was on.

For the next several hours, Panty and Stocking remained on high alert. They stayed together, both too nervous to split up but neither able to admit it. Chuck, for his part, seemed happier than usual. Nothing about the strange energy or happenings in the house alarmed him, and if anything, he looked like he was enjoying it. Stocking chalked it up to him being too dumb to know a threat when he saw one.

Not much happened, though. Items would tip off shelves. Furniture would move. Electronics would turn on and off. Lights would flicker. Once in a while, one of them would jump and screech when they felt a sudden, cold pressure against their skin.

But compared to the ghosts they fought on a near daily basis, this was nothing. Horror movie shit. Elementary. After a few incidents, it didn't even seem that scary. Just startling, occasionally. Stocking didn't like it. Even so, nothing was attacking them and it wasn't like they could just go shooting and slashing through the church aimlessly. Not unless they wanted to clean up afterward, and it was so hot, neither could be bothered.

Eventually, the heat got to them and they both fell into a sluggish heap in Panty's bedroom. Above them, they watched as the fan switched on by itself.

"If this really is a ghost," Panty sighed, still in just her bra and now underwear. (She'd put away her gun). "I'm calling it Casper."

"It's got to go," Stocking growled. Her glare was resolute. She didn't want any of this vermin in the church, even if the ghost did seem sort of harmless and helpful. "I'm blowing its fucking head off when it finally decides to show."

"It's either really weak, or really damn powerful," Panty surmised. "To be doing all this shit while its invisible.."

Either it was too frail to manifest as physical entity, or it was more than capable, and just choosing not to. Stocking would prefer the former, even if that would make it more difficult to eradicate in the end. She'd find a way. For now, the thing wasn't hurting anybody. Chuck was still capering around like he'd been injected with adrenaline and snorted five lines of coke. Much as this unnerved her, she couldn't do anything about it right now. And it was way too humid to think about anything besides a shower at this point.

Stocking used her swords to help her sit up, and then transformed them back to her usual namesake stockings. She folded them for safe keeping as she stood up.

"I'm rinsing off," she said as she padded in bare feet toward the nearest bathroom. "I feel fucking gross."

"You sure smell fucking gross," Panty grinned, stretching out under the steady stream of air from the fan. "The heat makes your vag get all fishy. Stinks like a corner market."

"Eat a bag of dicks," was Stocking's reply.

She made the short, sticky walk to the bathroom. Closed the door. Flipped on the lights and fan. Looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was dark and a bit matted from sweat, her skin a little pink here and there. She slipped off her bra and panties with a sigh, feeling no real relief from the heat until she flipped the water on and stepped under. She kept it lukewarm to adjust, and then slowly eased down the temperature to a comfortable, cool flow.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind empty. Her hair soaked through quickly, growing heavy, and she loved the feeling of pushing back her bangs from her forehead as refreshing water washed over her heated skin. She made a soft noise in her throat as she turned her head, letting the spray hit the back of her neck. It felt so nice..

Her head snapped toward the sound of the shower curtain rustling, and she recoiled when she saw it yanked halfway open. It was just her in the room. Panty wasn't here. But someone had slipped the curtain down the rod. Her eyes narrowed.

"Like what you see, pervert?" she called out to the room, stepping back under the spray and letting the water run down her hair again. "You can look, but don't touch."

She wasn't even sure if the ghost was in here with her. She wasn't scared of it, really, but she was fucking annoyed with it. Maybe it was just playing with her, or it could be spying. Was it capable of rational thought, or were these random incidents just happening in reaction to a field of paranormal energy? Curious, she struck a provocative pose, letting the water trickle down her naked body. Stocking moaned in that way she knew others liked.

Then there was a.. really weird sound. Like somebody choking on their own tongue. Stocking's big blue eyes popped open, and the turned her head toward the center of the small room. They blinked. Widened in horror. There was blood on the tile, speckled on the bathmat. Before she could question that, however, there was a schism of the air. It reminded her of watching a glitching tape. Between one moment and the next, there was a figure, and then empty air. Too indistinct to see at first, but there was another choking sound, more blood, and then the figure seemed to neutralize. Solidify.

And Shocking couldn't have been more shocked to see Brief standing there. In his old jumpsuit. Looking just as whole and handsome and healthy the morning before he died. Suffering from what looked to be one of his colossal nosebleeds. He finally stopped fizzling, and once he was stable, he seemed to realize he was being watched. Really watched.

He met Stocking's gaze. She blinked. He blinked. One of his hands was cupped over his nose, which continued to bleed like a firehose. Then he gave her a wavering smile. ".. uh. This isn't.. I wasn't.. uh, well – "

Stocking's shriek shook the integrity of the building's foundation, it was so loud.

/tbc~