Disclaimer: Peter Venkman, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore, and Ray Stantz and anybody else I may mention that were part of the original cast of the Real Ghostbusters don’t belong to me. They belong to Columbia Pictures and DIC. I didn’t make any money off this, I just wrote it for fun. Warning: There is a slash, or m/m, situation in this story. If this upsets you, feel free to leave. Also, there is a bit of angst involved. Those of you who are deeply affected by angst should have some tissue on hand for emergencies. Rating: Not sure. It might turn out to be an R, or a PG-13. Notes: This beginning takes place in 1998. The flashbacks take place in 1994. Archive: T’Yanna’s is fine. Anywhere else, please ask me at bianki@hotmail.com. Feedback is also welcome.

Shadows Before Light
(by Trent Grey)

PART ONE

If ever a building could look depressed, he was fairly sure he had just found it. The rain from earlier left millions of visible streaks down the sides of the building, and the windows were liberally spattered with water droplets. The observer didn’t care that the new rain was sliding down the back of his trench coat, down his pants and into his boots. All that was left for him was the tall, almost imposing building before him.

"Honey, I’m home." He whispered, a self-mocking smirk tugging at his lips.

Ignoring the soggy grass, he stepped across the small yard to the front door and brought up his hand to knock.

You will only bring them more pain, mortal. Pain that will become unbearable at your passing.

He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the demon’s voice away. The demon himself may be long gone, killed by his own hands, but the memory still remained.

All of those years, without the guys, without anyone, to hold him through the nightmare…

Alone.

With a frantically beating heart and new resolve, the stranger brought a quivering fist up to pound on the door.

He was answered a minute later by a woman with bright red hair, blue eyes and triangular glasses. "Now, look, kid—" She froze.

Wearing a long, black trench coat, a torn, dirty, brown jumpsuit with god-knew-what was on it, and what looked like combat boots, the stranger looked very imposing as he stood his full five foot eleven inches. Rain-slicked brown hair framed a pale, but still handsome face, but what caught her attention were the stranger’s eyes. They were a cold, dark shade of green that had a haunted light in them that looked like it had always been there.

"Dr. V?" She whispered, unable to say anything else.

He nodded once, curtly. "Janine."

"AHHHH!!!!" Janine screamed, her eyes widening. He stepped back in alarm when she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing loudly into his drenched jumpsuit.

"Oh, my GOD!" she managed. "You’re alive!!"

He looked down at her with wide, bewildered eyes, awkwardly wrapping his arms around her, not quite sure what to say. He was reminded of the rain when he felt a few raindrops hit the top of his head.

"Maybe we should get inside…" He said, awkwardly before recovering. "Wouldn’t want you to get wet now, would I?" He pulled her gently away to give her a teasing grin.

"Don’ care." Janine had grabbed onto the lapels of his trench coat, holding on for dear life, and sobbed into his chest. Her voice was muffled from where she had shoved her face into Peter’s neck.

"Janine!"

The alarmed shout and the sound of running feet made the redhead wheel around in near-surprise, and the stranger looked up, his entire body tensing.

The three men that came to Janine’s rescue froze in their tracks as their gaze landed on the dark stranger.

"Peter?"

Peter only nodded once. "Hey, guys." He tried to give them his usual cocky grin, but could only manage a sad smile. "Miss me?" He used their shock to take a good look at them. Hell, it had been four years.

Ray looked at him, tears overflowing in big, puppy-dog, brown eyes to stream down his cheeks. His rust-colored hair was still as short as Peter had remembered it, but the resemblance to himself four years ago ended there. Instead of a body that could only be described as pleasantly plump, the way Ray’s T-shirt clung to his torso revealed that he had been working out and had lost the extra weight years ago. Maybe it was from all of the busts we did. A hopeful look dawned on the younger man’s face, bringing the Ray that Peter remembered to the surface, but not before Peter had seen the …changed Ray. Where the brown eyes were shuttered, and the smile-marks around his mouth had faded into obscurity. Now, however, the smile marks were returning with a vengeance as a grin broke out over the occultist’s face.

"My, God." came a whisper. "Pete, is that you?"

That drew Peter’s attention to Winston. The black man stood tall, but there was a similar despair to be seen in his eyes that the psychologist had seen in Ray’s. The dark face was solemn, but a slow smile that crept across his lips, and the brown eyes also shimmered with unshed tears.

"You bet, Zed." Peter gave him a tiny, satisfied smirk before turning to the last man.

Egon had changed. His hairstyle had changed to a style similar to the one that Peter wore before he had fallen into the portal to the Netherworld. His red-rimmed glasses that he wore four years ago had been replaced by a pair of wire-thin frames that would’ve made the physicist look like a CIA agent from a Tom Clancy novel if the lenses were darker. Gone was the pink shirt and black suspenders, replaced by a dark green polo shirt and black denim slacks. A piece of black string hung from the man’s neck, with a single gold ring dangling from it. Drawn in by the deep blue in Egon’s eyes, Peter’s heart almost stopped beating from the pain and desolation he saw there. Egon… I’m so sorry…

Peter lifted a hand towards the blond physicist, but was instantly met with a proton rifle pointed directly at his nose. His second hand held an ever-present PKE meter.

"I do not know who you are," Egon said coldly, his hand rock-steady as he kept the rifle trained on Peter’s nose and spared a glance to the meter, which was beeping insanely. "Or where you come from, and frankly, I do not give a damn. This device shows that you are a Class Six Corporeal Entity, which indicates that one of your abilities is to change your shape at will."

He flipped a button on the rifle and the weapon began to hum. The others stood stock still, while Peter met Egon’s eyes calmly.

"I will request that you change your shape to something other than my lo—colleague." Egon bit off savagely, correcting himself before this ghost could take advantage of how much using this particular shape was hurting him. "Or I will fire. At the very least, it would be most unpleasant."

"Wish I could, Spengs." Peter told him softly, watching as Egon flinched at the nickname. "But it’s me, Pet—"

"Say his name, and I will make sure your trip to Hell is a short one." Egon said slowly, his eyes flaring.

Peter sighed, peeling a shocked Janine off of him and giving her a gentle push out of harm’s way. "Egon—" He stopped himself when Egon’s eyes flashed dangerously. "I left you. I deserve it."

"Peter!" Ray started forward in alarm.

"No, Ray." Peter glanced at him sternly.

"But, Pete—"

"I said, *no*." Peter barked at Winston, who had taken a step forward. Egon seemed oblivious to the proceedings, still keeping his rifle pointed at Peter. "Don’t interfere." He breathed a deep sigh and returned his gaze to Egon’s.

"Dr. Spengler," Peter tried going for a neutral name. It seemed to work, but just barely. "Please. Would you listen to me?"

Egon’s eyes narrowed. "Unless you have business here, I want you to leave."

"I do have business here." Peter returned calmly, drawing himself up. "Shoot me."

Egon’s eyes widened in shock. Didn’t expect that, did ya, Spengs? Peter said to himself. The psychologist vaguely heard the others gasp.

Egon recovered quickly, however. "Shoot you?" he managed in the most haughty, condescending voice he could manage.

"Yeah, shoot me." Peter nodded. Gently, he moved the rifle down to his chest, just over his rapidly beating heart. "Right here."

"And for what purpose, may I ask?" The physicist sneered. "You will be contained and held, regardless of where the rifle is pointed."

"A normal person gets blasted into a million pieces." Peter told him. "And if I’m going to die, shoot me where my heart is supposed to be."

"No." Egon said flatly. "This is a trick, and I will not accommodate you so that you may rend myself and my colleagues."

"What if it weren’t?" Peter asked him. "What if I was here? Staring at you and wondering where the hell is your pink shirt? Staring at the ring I gave you when I proposed to you?"

The PKE meter was quickly shoved into Egon’s back pocket and he held the rifle in both hands, his mouth flattening a grim line, his eyes turning as blue as a wintry sky.

"I can still remember that night, Egon." Peter whispered. "Holding you in my arms as the hammock rocked us both to sleep. Feeling your arms around me, holding me, protecting me, keeping the loneliness away." A single tear slid down his pale cheek. "You kept the darkness away."

The rifle wavered in the blond physicist’s hands.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, softly, he began to sing a song that he had sung to himself for the past four years, his voice steadily growing stronger as he continued.

They say that all good things must end someday
Autumn leaves must fall.
But, don’t ya know that it hurts me so
To say good-bye to you?
Wish you didn’t have to go.
No, no, no, no.

And when the rain
Beats against my window pane,
I’ll think of summer days again,
And dream of you.

Peter opened his eyes to look at Egon’s, seeing tears run down the high cheekbones. The rifle clattered, unnoticed, to the ground.

"Peter?" breathed Egon, in a lost, lonely, little voice.

"The one and only." A faint smile tugged at Peter’s lips.

"PETER!" Egon shouted, sweeping Peter up into a strong, warm embrace.

Winston, almost unable to rip his eyes away as Egon swung Peter around in a tight embrace, turned to Ray. "I’ll go get some cocoa going."

Ray nodded absently, turning away reluctantly from the two lovers to look back at Winston. His cheeks were flushed a dark red. "Yeah, I’ll go get some blankets."

"I’ll go make sure that gizmo you and Egon cooked up isn’t gonna burn the house down." Janine said to Ray, who nodded. The three quickly left after slowly closing the door, leaving Egon and Peter to themselves.

"My God… Peter." Egon whispered. "Peter, Peter, Peter."

"Careful, Spengs." Peter snuggled further into Egon’s neck. "You might wear my name out and then I’d have to get a new one."

"I can assure you, Peter, that there are plenty of other suitable names for you to choose from. I suppose ‘Peter’ shall become my security blanket."

Peter pulled back gently with a chuckle. "Like what, pray tell?"

"Pain in the Ass, for one."

"Oh, very funny, Spengs." Peter smiled. "You’re turning into a regular comedian. Good thing all those years of hard work actually paid off." He looked up at his lover "I love you."

"I love you, too." Egon grinned at him, diving in for a long, deep kiss. Warmth raced through Peter’s body at his lover’s touch. God, I missed this so much!

Egon pulled away quickly. "I love you so much, Peter." He kissed Peter’s nose. "I love you." and then his neck, the "I love you." garbled against Peter’s skin. The kisses and "I love you’s" didn’t stop until Egon had kissed every square inch of Peter’s skin that was within reach.

"Yeah, Egon." Peter grinned as he soaked in the kisses and nibbles. "I’m really feeling it." His fingers found their way into Egon’s hair and gently pulled his lover away from his exploration. "C’mere." They shared another long, deep kiss, one that said, "You’re home. I love you." more to Peter than Egon’s enthusiastic display of affection.

Winston turned to Ray, raising his eyebrows at the soft smile. "What’s up, m’man?"

Ray glanced at him before returning his gaze to Egon and Peter, who were now holding each other and resting their foreheads together while looking into the other’s eyes. "They deserve to be happy."

Winston nodded. "Yeah." He turned back to him with a question in his eyes. "What about you?"

The occultist looked surprised. "What about me?"

"You don’t seem all that surprised with Egon and Peter. You never did."

Ray smiled. "I’ve known these two since we were in college together. There was always a kind of chemistry between them. It was like being best friends, but a lot of times, it felt like so much more. It’s like they were connected on so many different levels that if I tried to figure it out, my head would start spinning. I can’t say that I was really surprised. They definitely deserve it now, after so long." A shudder ran through the occultist’s body. "I can’t imagine what it would be like to be trapped in the Netherworld. I just can’t. I wonder what happened to him?"

"Peter?" Winston raised his eyebrows at Ray. "You know Peter. He’s a survivor; I mean, look at when he was a kid. It must’ve been tough for him to have that kind of a beginning and not be disillusioned by the world. If he could survive that, he can survive the Netherworld, and he did."

Ray frowned a little. "No offense, Winston, but you met Peter after he had been our friend for years."

"And?" Winston was genuinely curious.

"There were times when he would just… shut us out. He’d have this cold look on his face, and his eyes were like mirrors, but whatever you saw was twisted around." Ray was uncharacteristically quiet. "He got better about opening up to Egon and me over the years, but he still got that look sometimes."

"What are you trying to say, Ray? That Peter might have revert back to his old defense mechanisms because of his stay in the Netherworld? I thought that was a given."

"No, not that." Ray shook his head almost sadly. "I guess I’m trying to say is that if Peter was cold-hearted before he met us, what will he be like after being abandoned in the Netherworld for four years?"

"Ray, we didn’t abandon him. You know that we couldn’t open the gate after it closed behind him—"

Ray turned to face him, his usually warm brown eyes now filled with guilt. "Yes. We. Did. It doesn’t matter how you say it, Winston. We. Did."

Winston heaved a deep sigh and watched as Peter gave them a sidelong glance and winked at them. "We’ll have to talk later, but for right now, though, you should get those blankets."

Ray smiled at him sadly. "Right." He made a half-hearted bounce or two up on the balls of his feet before heading for the stairs to the second floor.

Winston shook his head. "Jesus."

END PART ONE