Author's Note: So we learned last chapter Spencer regards Billy as A Mischievous Ghost, while Billy himself thinks he's The Mission Ghost. Could be Billy's egotistical manners, or maybe for once the ghost is on track, and it's everyone else who just thinks he's a nut. Including Spencer.

"I got my mind made up, man, I can't let go.
I'm killing every second 'til it saves my soul."

Spencer started the morning by rolling out of the bed, and onto the floor.

With a pitiful yelp and a dull thud he landed, and hard. Spencer stayed there a moment. Partly to get his bearings, and somewhat to curse and wonder why he'd done such a stupid thing in the first place.

Oh, right.

It occurred to Spencer as he lifted his head. He gazed dimly at the now empty comforter-less bed. Billy usually slept curled up behind him on the bed. It wasn't cuddling, thank you very much. Far from it. But it was an extra body in the bed Spencer had assumed was there to stop him when he rolled in his sleep. Which he did a lot of.

Like this morning.

Spencer rubbed the back of his head and winced as he dragged himself back onto the mattress. He was, according to the ghost, a naturally clingy sleeper. His little Velbro, Billy would call him jokingly the mornings he woke up with his arms and legs curled round the ghost's cool torso. But last night…there had been nothing to cling to last night. Or the night before that.

He sat there a moment, checking the ground for his comforter and his clock for the time. When neither yielded pleasing results (the blanket was too far away, and it was only 5 am,) the young film maker moaned and crawled back onto his bed. Sleep claimed him once more, and the ache behind his eyes was slowly going away, thank God.

Half an hour later his alarm went off, and he muttered a feeble protest. It trilled several times, and Spencer wondered why it was still going. Billy usually whacked it silent by now, since he slept closer to the nightstand. Spencer's sleep deprived mind didn't have any answers for him; the boy uttered a tiny little moan and instinctively went,

"Biillllly! Billy get the…oh. Aw, jeeze, what am I saying?" Spencer rolled over and knocked his hand into the clock a couple of times, satisfied only when the ringing stopped.

He couldn't even remember why he hadn't turned that damn alarm off. Oh well.

Grumbling to himself Spencer hauled his body out of bed and stumbled for the elevator to take him down a floor to the bathroom.

"Stupid…elevator. This is probably against city code. Or something. Stupid Billy and his stupid mansion and his, his, stupid face. Grrnh," Spencer rubbed his rug burned cheek furiously and winced as he felt the stitches above his eye pull.

Still half-heatedly, but softly, cursing his dead cousin and anything remotely connected to him, Spencer headed for the bathroom down the hall in the quiet house.

Billy reached out and took hold of the kid's skinny shoulder, pulling toward himself just a bit. Spencer's body rolled over at the gesture. Jeez, the kid just moved like dead weight—oh god don't think like that, never think the D word ever again man, you know how freaked out you get—and Spencer stopped moving only when his spine met the floor. The kid's head lolled a bit. And honestly, with his right arm and leg flopping lifelessly with his torso? He looked just like a rag doll, a discarded item no longer needed.

"Spencer?" His voice echoed.

"Spence…wake up."

Spencer's head fell back when Billy lifted him up. The kid's empty eyes slid quietly over to him.

Spencer grinned a black mouth with blacker teeth and hissed,

"You're fault."

The ghost reeled back in horror, and shock, but didn't let his grip on Spencer go. He'd promised he'd always look out for his little bro, never let him go—

"You're fault. You're faultyou'refaulYOU'REFAULT." But now Spencer was laughing it at him, a crazed high pitch chuckle that caused Billy to recoil sharply, flinching back from this little human. Black sludge melted down Spencer's face, dropping and sliding as the sickly grin twisted.

For a moment Billy could only stare in horror at the wide soulless eyes of his little cousin, at the pale shaking hand covered in scarlet reaching for him, before the sound of someone screaming woke him out of a dead (as it were) sleep.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Oh, it was HIM who was screaming.

Billy shot up from the floor he was sinking through; chest heaving like he'd just ran a mile. For one thing, the phantom emotion of his pounding heart was a complete fake. The cold dead organ stopped faking upon his realization that he was, still in fact, dead as a door nail. But that wasn't possible. He swung around and hovered up near the ceiling, running his fingers through his streaked back hair to gather his thoughts. And as soon as he became aware of the fact his body wasn't supposed to breathe his chest stopped rising. Nothing changed; it was just an action he was doing, using an instinct long passed.

This did little to soothe his anxiousness, which actually tripled when he saw Spencer's bed. Empty, void of sheets and pillows.

"S-Spencer?" Some weird emotion tingled in the pit of his still heart and he streaked through the floor, darting through the floor at his fastest speed. Billy moved so fast he was pretty sure he might have passed himself at once point, actually.

"Spencer!?" His call was unintentionally answered when he heard noise in the bathroom closest to the elevator. That was Spencer's! Well, the one Spence used the most. Billy had three or two on the first floor and one in the basement level. Jessica loved the basement, so she was down there next to the training room probably. His parents had the master suite.

Billy swallowed, throat clicking as he shoved his head through the door. Who cared about privacy, it wasn't like Spencer could see him anyway. Relief flooded the dead rock star when he saw his Spencer standing before the sink brushing his teeth. Spencer looked tired, standing there all hunched over and leaning on the pale blue counter.

But Billy smiled softly and slinked in to float behind Spencer.

"…you scared me there little bro." He admitted under his breath, legs hanging under him as he floated in place. But upon find his lovely little sweetheart simply going about his daily tasks, Billy relaxed quite a bit. And the tingling in his chest faded.

Billy waited there like a good ghost, wondering how Spencer was going to spend his day. Maybe video games, or movies?! No…making movies was too much energy for the little guy to exert right now. Billy worried how he'd distract Spencer from doing something too strenuous, because the little firecracker was bound to find some trouble to get into.

He was so busy mulling this over he almost didn't notice Spencer pulling his little prescription bottle down from the cabinet.

"Let's see…how many? Oh…nh, whatever…Enough to shut up this marching band in my head." Spencer whined to himself, and unknowingly Billy.

"Aw, little bro…got a headache still huh?" Billy hummed sympathetically. But he blinked and cocked his head at the rattling noise. The ghost considered the sudden tightening in his chest the sound appeared to be causing. Pills…? He shook it off, brushing the sensation away. That was in the past. They couldn't hurt him now. He was just being silly.

"Hey, that's the strong stuff Ponderbrosa." Billy started cheerily when he saw the label on the medication bottle. Billy went on, because he'd talked to Spencer before the kid could see him as a ghost, so why should he stop now? Old habits.

"I remember I was on those one time, after I kinda broke my leg and my elbow doing a trick off stage, and like I took them right? Took one pill over the dosage and, bam. I was higher than my Hit songs, let me tell you. Oh man were they awesome, I took like maybe two and the next thing I knew I was riding a unicorn and—hey, what're you doin'!?"

No way Spencer had poured out three and wasn't putting two back!

"Spencer! The bottle says—uhm," he dipped over the kid's shoulder, trying to read it quickly, "One! You only gotta take one!"

Spencer of course, couldn't hear him. He stood there, not really watching his hand but focusing on filling a cup with water. He yawned and sighed heavily, mind clearly elsewhere. Billy knawned on his lip and circled around his kid, growing more uneasy with each passing second. Spencer was such a little guy too! Wasn't medication like, like alcohol!? Didn't it affect every person different but if you were tiny it also hit you harder automatically?! Didn't it!? Spencer was tiny!

And then Spencer was done filling the cup and still intent on taking that many pills at once. Or not even intent, he looked miles away in some mind space of his. Billy wrung his hands and tugged his hair worriedly.

"Wha—dude!"

Billy had a small freak out right there beside him. He watched in terror as his Spencer, his baby, his whole world, brought the pills to his lips to take them and—Oh god Spencer could get so sick, he could hallucinate, hurt himself more, go to sleep for too long, or, or overdose—

The overhead light flickered sporadically as the word flared into his thoughts. Billy could take no more and swung his hand out.

"NO!"

He went through Spencer's skin—who gasped at the chill—but his hand connected on the inanimate pills and they went FLYING.

"What the-!?" Spencer cried in surprise, watching the little things drop, one on the floor, and the other into the tub. He didn't see where the third one landed but it didn't matter, he couldn't take any of them now.

Even exhausted and in pain Spencer's eyes flickered with an annoyed, knowing look.

"Billy! Stop that!" The kid scolded, glaring around him as he got to his knees and reached into the tub. The pill suddenly lifted past him and floated by the ceiling, far out of his reach.

"H-hey…Billy come on," Lost and more than a little hurt, Spencer clambered to his feet. The sudden rush caused his head to throb and he swayed woozily. Something cool but long and thin coiled round his waist one too many times to have bones, and gently pushed him against the counter. Spencer fumbled for it, held on, and wished the snake like arm that was most likely Billy hadn't gone away so soon. Now he had no idea where the ghost was. So Spencer stood there, clutching the sink counter and leaning over.

"Owww…." God his head was killing him. Any other time he'd kick the ghost's butt or hide all the peanut butter in the house. As it is he opens his eyes to see three pills drop into the wastebasket.

Spencer watches in confusion as the bottle high above him shakes out one little pill. Instead of dropping, it lands on something invisible. Billy's hand.

"Billy…?" Spencer mumbled, watching quietly as the cap pops off. One pill is offered to him, along with the cup, fetched from the sink counter. He didn't remember placing it there when Billy surprised him, so either it fell there so neatly at the same time defying physics…or Billy caught it.

With a wary glance in front of him, Spencer takes the two things.

"Alright I…I won't take more than one. Jeez Billy." He added, but it was soft and quiet as he swallowed a gulp of water along with the medication. He knew you weren't supposed to take pills on an empty stomach. And he wasn't putting it past Billy to drag him to the kitchen, especially after his recent little stint, so Spencer headed there himself. Billy apparently didn't have any problem with this, the door even swung open for him before he got to it.

Spencer rolled his eyes fondly but didn't say anything.

A sandwich and soda later and he found himself back in his room, the cold patch still to his right.

"Where's the necklace Billy?" Spencer suddenly prompted. He waited, and sighed when the only response he got was the cold spot fading. He could no longer feel it, and therefore had no idea where in the room the ghost was. If he was in the room still at all.

When the necklace didn't magically appear, Spencer spent a few moments looking for something else that belonged to the ghost.

"Ghost 101, you always said." Spencer muttered to the empty room. After finding nothing useful Spencer went to his computer.

Editing would take his mind off the pain, and he wasn't just talking about the physical pain either. It seemed like just the reprieve he needed, come to think of it. And when he got tired, he could simply save and go take a nap.

Stupid ghost.

After that whole fiasco in the bathroom, nothing short of Spencer breaking his gold albums would let him leave Billy's sight now. Even then…Spencer'd probably have a good logical reason and Billy might get over it eventually, but that was beside the point. (He really would forgive Spencer for too much. He'd have to look into that later.)

The point was, Billy Joe Cobra realized he was having a little bit of a problem. He hadn't thought it was that much a problem until the terror he'd felt in the bathroom not 10 minutes ago. Seriously, he'd been like, more scared than he'd ever been before. And that was saying something when you lived with a horror film addict. Spencer had some DVDs in this room that Billy wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole, not for all the pb in the world. But at the sudden realization of knowingly seeing Spencer put himself in danger, either on purpose or accident had caused what could only be described as a click in his brain. He'd felt it before, briefly, during some of their more dangerous endeavors.

And that problem was…sitting at his computer with one hand on his cheek and looking awfully cute.

Well, Spence had always been cute, it was just more potent now with his disheveled uncombed hair and the little pout his lower lip was making as he worked. Unbeknownst to Spencer (and it was going to stay that way) there were a few times the Cobra liked watching his little bro work. Spencer would chew his lip when he was trying hard to get the color on a scene just right, or mumble to himself as he renamed and organized all the files.

Billy could tell what his little Brohiem Steamroller was doing; he was working on the audio files, his headphones on. He was working on the levels for just the right chilling scream. Billy shuddered. He'd never understand Spencer's penchant for horror and curiosity over monsters and stuff. Spencer didn't know what that stuff was really like, and honestly Billy hoped he never found out. Spencer wanted scary, he wanted to scare people, The Cobra knew that! He respected a dream, a passion, when he saw one.

But he couldn't understand Spencer's specific one. Billy Joey Cobra had seen too much to ever be wide eyed and innocent again.

That aside, maybe he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth too much. If Spencer didn't like all this spooky horror stuff in the first place, then he probably wouldn't be that interested in letting Billy stay and go his whole haunting thing.

Billy wondered a little idly if Spencer would ever figure out just who it was Billy was haunting. But maybe that was a question for another day.

The word haunt didn't always have to meant something negative, you know.

Spencer didn't feel so good. His head pulsed, making him queasy. And his vision swam, making him dizzy and queasy. And his limbs were so heavy, so he curled up under his sheets and shuddered, his cheeks flushed and feverish. Most of Spencer's body shook and he wrapped them round a pillow he'd rescued from under the bed, coiling his arms round as he moaned quietly.

"Billy?" Spencer murmured to his empty room. Well, it at least looked like an empty room. Spencer hoped it wasn't. He just…

The boy felt hot burning tears sting his brown eyes, and his throat tightened, squeezing dangerously. His teeth clacked, and a shudder wracked his small frame.

He just really needed…

"I c-could really use some water." Spencer rasped quietly, his throat clicking as he swallowed. He didn't want to cry. Not here. Not now. Shivering, Spencer crawled under the covers of his duvet and curled up. This was the bed from his home back in Minnesota, and he knew and loved it well. Though the mansion had come refurbished (see: positively cluttered with stuff) Spencer remembers the vastness of the Tower. They (the people in charge of Billy's estate that worked with his parents) had taken only a few plain bits of furniture from the mansion, and all of it had come from this room he was told. One of those things had been a large queen sized mattress. A foam one, the kind that was so expensive you'd take five years just to pay it off, and it had been in perfect condition. Even the sheets were barely wrinkled, and looked brand new themselves. This had been Billy's room. Somehow, Spencer just knew that, even before the ghost proclaimed it loudly. The dust that covered the rooms and items had been over a year old. It had been getting dusty in some rooms before the rockstar's death. Things like the Tiki Room and most of the things on the first floor were used and clearly lived in. but the bedroom, the place of solace and comfort and the place you could feel most at home, had been hardly touched.

And this had been Billy's house, grand and luxurious as it was.

So why did it feel so unlived in when the Wrights had arrived?

Spencer wondered over this question but knew no good would come of pestering Billy about such personal things. Billy had a good memory when he wanted one, but most times, if it didn't make him look good, he feigned forgetfulness or avoided the topic altogether. The ghost seemed to remember almost everything about his past life.

Except of course, that he had died.

Lost in thought, Spencer almost didn't notice a floating cup of water until it was nearly on top of him.

"H-huh?" He jumped a bit, startling. The glass was pressed into his shaky fingers. The air around him was a bit cooler than usual, signaling Cobra's presence. The water was in a cup of his favorite color. Spencer felt a great rush of affection for the ghost just then, and felt his lips twitch into the tiniest of smiles.

"Thanks, Billy." Spencer said softly. He had to sit up a little more to drink, and he did. The water was cool and refreshing on his still dry throat. He just wanted to cry, and let his emotions out. It wasn't he was scared of Billy making fun of him.

He was scared, that for the first time in two years, Billy wouldn't comfort him.

Man, Spencer was in trouble.

Feel miserable, poor, and generally down on himself, Spencer curled up back against his mattress. He was going to hide here from the rest of the world he didn't feel as weak as wet paper and thoroughly exhausted. Perhaps it was the medication doing something to him?

Before Spencer could spend very long feeling sorry for himself, something slid into his vision. A sandwich, sitting innocently enough on a plate. It was cut down the middle and everything, and on any other day it would have looked appetizing. Today it just looked like a sandwich, and filled him with suspicion.

"Billy? Where did—did my mom make this?" He gave the plate a scolding look. "Did you swipe this from my dad? Billy, how many times have I told you—"

But the plate was placed next to him in his bed, atop a smooth bit of sheet. And nudged closer. When Spencer did nothing, it was moved again by an invisible hand, toward him.

Well, that was strange. Billy was known for snatching food, especially from an unsuspecting Hugh. Not so much for sharing it though.

Not knowing what else to do, and at a loss for words, the boy sat up slowly. The blanket pooled at his waist as he was careful not to tip the plate.

"Billy? What am I..." He got it, but, "I'm not really hungry, man. My, my stomach feels off."

Spencer could feel something there in the air. He just wasn't sure what. It didn't feel positive though. The plate and its contents were only moved, firmly, closer to him. Spencer sighed, shaking his head.

"I guess…a few bites couldn't hurt." He was too tried to argue with the stubborn ghost. That right there should have been a huge red light to Billy.

And, it was.

"Aw, c'mon Macabroni, please!?" He dragged out the last word, despite knowing it wouldn't do any good. Spencer still couldn't hear him. He was playing to an empty room pretty much.

Still, Spencer was eating it. Mission accomplished if you asked the rock star. Billy wasn't a 5 star Chef but he could still make a mean ham and salami sandwich, ghost or no ghost. He just wanted Spencer to have something in him, for God's sake. The kid was basically a walking twig on a good day, and after the whole Boss Monster Fiasco, well. The past day or so Billy was that much more aware of his bro's tiny stature.

"If I'm not careful, you're gonna blow away on me." Billy laughed sadly to himself as he floated over the boy. Spencer stopped after eating only about half of the sandwich, but Billy supposed he couldn't complain all that much.

Not like Spencer would hear his complaining anyway.

Billy watched Spencer curl back up into his bed, not even bothering to move the plate still holding the rest of the abandoned sandwich. Billy briefly considered eating it, but stopped himself. He took the plate and moved it to safer perch on his old nightstand and turned back round to see Spencer reaching for the pillow again to hug. Billy sighed in fond exasperation, and swooped down onto the bed.

"You're gonna be okay, sweetheart." Cobra whispered as he lowered round Spencer more and pulled the blankets more snuggly round that skinny frame. Spencer's eyebrow knitted gently, but his eyes remained closed as he apparently drifted back to sleep.

Billy rested his head atop the crown of Spencer's head and heaved a tired sigh. After the last dream he had, Billy kept himself awake, and hoped it wouldn't come back around to bite him in the ass like everything else seemed to.