We stop looking for monsters under the bed when we realize they're inside of us—The Joker

***

His footsteps stopped behind the door. A long, agonizing silence followed, before the key turned in the lock. My heart was thumping so hard in my head, I couldn't think. My ears stood straight as a rabbit's, collecting every ping, analyzing the slightest jingle coming from the other side.

He doesn't know, everything's fine, I chanted to myself; over and over, trying to make it stick.

I blew out a pent up breath, shifting restlessly—my eyes glued, unblinking, to the door.

Calm yourself!  Winnie chastised. Pretend you're asleep.

Yeah, sure. Easier said than done when every muscle in my canine body was itching to take off at full speed from the monster who was about to enter the doorway. 

I watched as t opened slowly and he stepped inside. The glow of the outside lamp protruded through the windows, outlining his frame. He stood, looking worn out, his jeans caked with mud from the knees down. He pushed the door shut slowly, locking it. Stooping down, he worked at the laces of his boots,  wrestling them off.

Straightening, he cast a dark look at my mother and siblings, who sat cowering in the corner, gawking helplessly at him. My mother's paw lifted nervously in response to his glare. Hank and Boon trembled next to her. His eyes swept the room resting on Winnie and I, hidden in the folds of the blankets, pretending to sleep.

For a brief second, through the slits of my eyes, I thought I caught a smirk. My breath caught, trapped in my chest. I held it until he turned away, boots in his hands, and headed up the stairs to his room. My heart continued to pound in my ears as I waited for the footsteps to cease.

Get some sleep, Winnie projected next to me.

Upstairs a door opened and shut. I don't think I can sleep with my evil twin plotting right above me. I wriggled out of the blankets, enough to uncover my head and get a good look at the stairs—just to make sure.

Without sleep you'll be useless. Winnie scooted closer to me in the blankets until her head was resting in the crook of my neck.

The closeness of her body triggered a tingling happiness that I quickly tried to suppress. Embarrassed, I forced myself to lie still until her breathing evened. The warmth of her breath soothed me as I sank down into the blankets and closed my eyes. Sleep snuck up on me—a welcome, deep, dreamless sleep. A couple of hours passed by.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound filtered into my sub-consciousness and conjured up an image of Sheldon writing the letter to Winter in the barn.

Tap. Tap. Tap. His pen hit the paper as he sat back to grin at the three words, written in blood.

Tap. Tap. Tap!

Winnie's nose shoved me hard enough to turn me over onto my side. I scrambled to me feet, still in thralls of sleep. She stared at the window, her ears high on her head. I followed her gaze, it was still dark outside.

What is it? I couldn't make anything out in the pitch black.

I think it's Bastion. He was trying to project to us, but it was so faint, I couldn't make it out.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I peered outside, my eyes adjusting, focusing on the window sill. A small shadow rested there.

He's tapping his beak on the window. Let's get him inside, I said to Winnie.

Together we worked to twist the crank, our paws clumsily fumbling around, trying to find a grip. A foggy thought projected from behind the window. I struggled to capture its meaning, but it was too blurry to make out.

We can't understand your thoughts, they're too weak, I projected back.

He knows...came Bastion's whispered thoughts from the other side.

Winnie and I  leaned forward, straining  to grab his message from the fogginess in his mind. He knows what? I projected.

He knows...who you are!

I felt a tingling sensation. The kind you feel when you suddenly realize someone is watching you from behind. It was too late. Quick as a flash, something came crashing down on us. A burst of excruciating pain—then the room faded to blackness.

***

I came to gasping for air. My throat was burning—nostrils on fire. Gagging, I opened my eyes to stinging, thick smoke billowing through a closed door in the little room around me. I turned my head, wincing at the sudden throbbing, nearly blacking out again. I'd been hit with something.

Winnie laid lifeless on the floor next to me. Leaning over painfully, I nudged her with my nose. Nothing. There was a gash on her head, her fur matted with blood.

Oh god, oh god, oh god—wake up Winnie! I nudged her again, my head banging excruciatingly.

Desperate, the smoke growing thicker by the second, I gauged our surroundings, searching for an exit. We were in a small room, a closet perhaps. There were no windows, the only way out was the door—straight into the fire.

Winnie! I flipped her onto her side with my snout.

Her lungs were moving ever so slightly. Winnie! Wake up, Winnie!

My eyes burned violently. This was the end. We would both die of smoke inhalation soon. What would happen next? Would we become spirits again, and leave the past as it was? Or, had we succeeded in making it worse than what it was? Would we have another chance to come back?

I looked down at Winnie, her eyes closed tight, struggling to breath. Determination set in. We couldn't die, we'd come too far to just give up and die. I recollected a visit in the third grade by fireman Steve. He'd told us to cover our mouths, and stay low. Coughing violently, I searched the small room for something to cover our mouths. I managed to find a couple of blankets on the floor. 

I nudged Winnie. If she wouldn't wake, I'd have to carry her somehow. She was only a little smaller than me, so that would be a hard task. I wondered if there was fire on the other side of the door. Opening it may lead to death by burning as opposed to death by smoke inhalation, but it was a chance I had to take.

Working fast, I rolled Winnie onto one of the blankets, and did my best to wrap her in it, covering her head. My nose burned and my breath came in sharp wheezes. Praying the door wasn't locked, I stood up on my hind legs and worked at the handle, miraculously managing to turn it on the first try. I flung it open and the smoke flooded in, causing me to drop back quickly to the ground.

The whole place was on fire. I took a deep breath from the lowest point possible and grabbed onto the blanket with my mouth—scrambling backwards, dragging Winnie out of the little room. Surrounded by blazing fire, my hope and energy was waning by the second. Oxygen draining, I coughed and sputtered, black starting to edge in the corners of my eyes.

I dragged Winnie across the room with every once of strength left in me, praying the blanket wouldn't catch flame. My lungs were starting to fail. I looked behind me. The side door stood open. I might make it—if I ran. There was no way I could drag Winnie across the pockets of fire. I would have to leave her.

I looked down at the blanket, her little body wrapped inside, and it hit me—I loved her. There was no leaving Winnie. We'd have to get out together, or die trying.

***

(Winter's POV)

Winter stood outside, her hands clasping her mouth, watching her mother's dream burn tortuously to the ground. The hot fire cracked and twisted, its flames licking the sides of the refuge, bringing blackness to whatever it touched.

Sheldon had barely made it out alive. He'd single-handedly saved all of the animals inside, except for Pickle and Winnie, they were nowhere to be found. She tried to get inside, but Sheldon had held her back. The fire had been so hot, the smoke so thick. There was no way the two pups could survive. 

She gulped down waves of anguish as the fire fighters came out empty handed for the second time. They were working hard to extinguish the flames, but she knew the smoke would kill the two pups long before the fire would.

Her father stood next to her, his hands balled in fists, tears falling down his rigid face as all that he'd worked for came crashing down in front of him. The officer paced the gravel road, roaring into the phone, demanding back up as soon as possible. Winter wondered how he'd missed the fire being set on his watch.

It must have been Jose. It was clear he would stop at nothing to strip everything and everyone she loved away from her.

Sheldon stepped up next to her, a blanket over his shoulders, soot smudged on his face. His eyes warmed as he looked at her. "They might still be alive."

He took her hand in his. She didn't shift her gaze from the refuge door. The fire fighters made one last attempt to go into the building. In front of them, steam and smoke billowed into the sky, as hoses pounded water on the flaming refuge.

"You have insurance, right?" Sheldon said. " You can rebuild it."

Winter turned to look at him, her brown eyes flooded with tears. "Thank you," she managed to whisper. "You risked your life saving them. You could have just run out—saved yourself—but you didn't. "

"I know how important those animals are to you, Winter." Sheldon's eyes captured hers. " I just wish I could have saved them all."

Something dove from the sky and launched itself fiercely at his face.

"Shit!" He released his hand from Winter's to swat at it.

"Wait! Wait!" Winter cried, stopping his swing with her hand. She peered up at the sputtering little bird. "It's only a little sparrow. It looks like it's hurt. That's probably why it's acting so strange."

She reached towards it. To her surprise, the little bird hopped onto her hand, then turned to Sheldon, its beady eyes locked on him. Its left wing was dragging, its feathers mangled and missing in spots. The poor thing looked like it had been in a fight for its life.

A shout brought Winter's attention back to the refuge door. Two firefighters emerged, carrying the dogs in their arms. "They've found them," she said, her heart racing.

Dawson, the old veterinarian, pulled up within minutes, hurrying over to the pups, his medical bag in his hand. He kneeled down, examining them as they lay on the blankets in the grass. At the same time, the firefighters rushed to get oxygen kits from the truck.

Winter hurried over to the dogs, the injured sparrow still in her hands. Sheldon followed behind her. Dawson strapped oxygen on the pups and turned them on their sides, rubbing their bellies vigorously. "They'll need to go to the veterinary hospital as soon as we get them stable enough," he said.

Winter gasped with joy as Pickle's eyes fluttered and opened. He gagged and sputtered, trying to stand. Next to him, Winnie's chest barely moved. Her mouth foamed, sporadic wheezing sounds coming from it.

Dawson took her head in his hands, noticing the gash. "She must have been trying hard to get out," he said.

Her eyes fluttered slightly, as if trying to awake, but remained closed. Shortly after, Lance helped pack the dogs into Dawson's car and the two of them headed to the veterinary hospital. Winter stood holding the little bird in her hands as they drove away. Sheldon planted himself rigidly behind her.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Things are really getting tense now that Sheldon knows who the spirits are. Please comment or leave any constructive ways that I can improve on this chapter/story...and don't forget to vote! Thanks!!!