My Best Friend is a Ghost Chapter Three (working title)

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Title: My Best Friend is a Ghost
Summary: House and Wilson are traveling across the country, following the series finale of House. In this story, I explore the possibility that the end of the episode wasn’t exactly what we thought it was. What if House died in the drug den fire, and came back as a ghost? How would they handle things when House leaves the Casper stage and becomes something a bit more dangerous?
Rating: PG to be safe.
Warnings: OOC, and AU, spoilers for season eight, sort of a crossover between House and Supernatural (well, only because it involves a ghost and some other things I’ve learned from watching the show. I started to describe the Winchesters in the last chapter, but mostly it’s just House and Wilson talking about whether or not to call them. I have no right to the show House or to anything to do with Supernatural, Fox, the CW, or any of the actors. Also, I changed the timeline of the show. I have House and Wilson still traveling in December of 2012, but they have been on the road for quite a while so I just pushed the diagnosis forward a bit, so that I could include the cold/winter weather.
Additional Note: sorry for the short chapter but it was incredibly redundant so I deleted about half of the original chapter. Don’t worry, the next one is rather long.
Words: about 1600 including the headings.



Chapter One
Chapter Two

When I found the supernatural experts, I felt elated. However, my emotions quickly took a turn for the worse. I watched the videos of ghosts or spirits being exorcised, it looked horrifically painful. They set the remains on fire! I couldn’t imagine subjecting House to the same torturous death he’d already experienced. Sure, House seemed too miserable in his current state, sometimes dangerous. However, I couldn’t remember a time when things were truly different from this.

Plus, despite the exploding television and the rattling windows, I was still worried my experiences were all in my imagination. As much as I wanted to believe House was a ghost, part of me continue to remain convinced I had lost my mind. Plus, I couldn’t fathom going through the last few weeks or months of my life unattended. Once House was gone, I would be completely screwed.  Spirit or hallucination, he wouldn’t be much physical help in the end, but these were not typical haunting circumstances.

I had maybe six more weeks to live. By the end, I would be too weak to get out of bed unassisted, unable to feed myself, and in too much pain to keep reloading my morphine pump. As soon as House was gone, I would most likely need to check myself into a hospital or hospice. My death would go exactly the way I had dreaded most. House wasn’t a spirit trapped on Earth because he had nowhere else to go, or because he had unfinished business. Not really. He knew he was useless to me in most senses but he was sticking around so I wouldn’t have to feel lonely. Greg had promised not to abandon me when he was still alive, and was now doing his best to live up to said promise, so to speak.

“Maybe I shouldn’t call them,” The realization of what Greg was doing had just hit me fully. “I’m not using reverse psychology, by the way. Sure you’re a lot of trouble. Even more than usual, but…I really don’t want to die in solitary confinement and I’m not heading back to Princeton.”

“I could try and control this stuff, especially now that we know what I’m capable of.” He didn’t seem to believe this was possible, however. “You read what I read. You know souls—and I don’t like that word by the way—deteriorate the longer they remain in this form. I blew up a TV this time. No big deal. In a hospital, I could do way more damage than my live self was capable of.” He frowned and then crossed and uncrossed his arms. “You were using reverse psychology!”

“I really wasn’t, I swear. The longer you’re a ghost…or whatever, the worse things seem to get, but I won’t be around much longer. I won’t need to…you’d only have to control yourself for about a month. And once I’m dead, I might be able to take you with me. We wouldn’t lose track of each other.”

“Unless I drag you down with me. You know…” he lowered his voice, pointing towards the ground. It was very strange to hear Gregory House all but admit he was afraid of going to Hell. Bizarre but not surprising.

“Those websites talked about a lot more than just ghosts,” I told him, patting the mattress beside my body. He sat. “There are demons and vampires and all kinds of crazy crap out there I never could have imagined. Some of the pages contradict each other, but it sounds like most people only wind up in Hell for, like, selling their soul. The only people who seem to go there because of bad behavior are the rapists and murderers and people who start wars. Apparently, even the werewolves and things don’t go to Hell because most monsters were once humans, who were originally attacked by monsters who used to be human, who…well you get the idea.”

Greg shrugged his shoulders, feigning a yawn. “And if there is a colossal screw up and you do end up in Hell, and I don’t, I’ll come rescue you.” He snorted at the thought. “What you think I am going to Hell? These sites could be bonus, but a lot of the information on them is pretty logical. It says organized religions, and texts like the bible are way off base. Cheating on my wives was a despicable thing to do, but it seems like a really fucking stupid reason for eternal damnation.”

“Let’s pretend I believe all of this crap about souls and the afterlife, which I should because I remember almost going into the light, but at the same time…” He paused, his knees bouncing up and down anxiously. “If I believe it, I can obviously trust you to keep things from being too horrible or insanely boring. So, I guess I’m mostly okay with what happens when we’re both in “Heaven.”  However, I’m worried about what will happen to you when I’m gone.”

“You’re not the only one,” I confessed. I could only imagine what things would be like for me in some dirty hospital surrounded by complete strangers who wouldn’t treat me like a doctor. Not to mention missing the person I loved most. I sighed, feeling my hand rubbing against the back of my neck.

“I know you’re scared, Greg but the last thing I want is to see you suffer. I mean, I don’t want to die alone in some hospital, surrounded by strangers, scared and lost…but I don’t think we have another option.”

“Wilson, I-,” he let out a whimper. Then, House got a look on his face like he was having an epiphany. “You’re about ready to throw in the towel, aren’t you?” he asked, reaching over to take my hand.

“Well, I—I am definitely reaching the final days here. If I let the cancer finish me off, it’s going be a nightmare, with or without you.” House pursed his lips.

“This right here, what I’m going through…it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, let alone on you.”

“The websites say suicides are no more likely to become ghosts than anyone else. The reason you’re still here is because you felt like you had to stay. Others have unfinished business. I want you to know you’re off the hook.”

“This isn’t like on television, Jimmy. You can’t tell me, “It’s okay to move on,” and watch me go into the light, where I’ll live happily ever after. I might not even be able to get to Heaven or Hell or wherever once you’re dead too. Maybe you’ll go into the light and I’ll be alone.” I nodded reaching to hug him. This time he stayed in place but my arms didn’t feel anything.

“I know I’ve held you in my arms and you’ve hugged me and….” I shouted. Greg looked at the floor avoiding eye contact. “Are you suggesting I was so desperate to believe you were alive that my brain convinced itself I was touching your body to keep up the illusion?” He nodded.  “I guess we have no choice but to call in the madmen.” He looked heartbroken.

So I said, “We could try a few things on our own first. I have your coat and watch. Maybe you got blood or skin on them. If I find the item that’s holding you here, it might…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The videos of ghost deaths had seemed so violent, disturbing. It looked painful. Plus, House died in a fire. I didn’t know if I could stand to watch (let alone be responsible for) it happening again. House started to tremble a bit. The lights hummed loudly, bulbs glowing far brighter than they were intended to.

“I think you should get help from the professionals,” he instructed, attempting to self-soothe. Greg used air quotes around the word professional. “Sorry. Not just for the lights but for all I’ve put you through lately.”

“House would never say anything even approaching those words,” I murmured quietly. Greg smirked. “I think you have to be a hallucination.”

“Dying changes everything,” he reminded me. ‘I know how stupid and clichéd it sounds but I just—some of the little things like apologizing for my mistakes and meaning it, and even some of the big things…it all started to make sense right after I died. I just want you to feel—I wanna make this as easy for you as possible. Call the crazy men,” House ordered. I nodded. This was pretty much our only recourse. So, I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number I found on one of the Winchester websites.

“Hey, you’ve reached Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone,” a young-ish, but life-hardened voice declared. I explained the situation as thoroughly as possible, while trying to remain concise. I also told them how I had researched the matter and told them what evidence I’d found. Then, I hung up. House and I sat back waiting to see what would happen next. I was so scared and nervous that I actually started to cry. House came to my side and wrapped his arms around my frail, sobbing body. After a few minutes, I could have sworn I actually felt him hugging me.