Turn Back Time - The Ghost and Molly McGee Story

Chapter 1

Hello! If you're wondering what this is, long story short, I started a TGAMM multichapter story on Ao3 and decided to post it here so... uhh... you're welcome I guess

That's it you can read now

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Scratch always watched over Molly while she slept. It wasn't creepy, he just liked to sit on top of his dollhouse and listen to her snores. It gave him a sense of protection, and it also helped him know that she was okay. He enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed how quiet nighttime was.

Nighttime was one of the only peaceful times throughout his day. He was constantly being pushed and pulled around by Molly and the rest of her family, whether he liked it or not. Whatever crazy things she did, wherever crazy place she went, he always had to go along. It wasn't like he had a choice. And it was what he deserved for putting a curse on Molly McGee and becoming eternally bound to her. Most ghosts were good at placing curses. He was not.

The two didn't always see eye-to-eye. Molly was more of an optimist. She was happy, kind, supportive, and tried her hardest to be positive in every situation. Scratch was more of a pessimist. He was grumpy, lazy, negative, and tried to be a jerk to everyone he met. But, in the long-haul, the two were good for each other in some way. And he somehow came around to liking her - or, tolerating her at least. She wasn't as bad as he thought she was, even though he absolutely hated to admit it.

The situation could be worse, he constantly had to remind himself so he didn't go insane, you could be stuck with a mass murderer or literally any other type of criminal. Least you got Molly. Be thankful you got Molly.

He looked over at her bed again. Her back was turned towards the wall, so he couldn't quite see anything besides her dark-brown hair that never seemed to leave a ponytail. He smiled.

"Molly isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me, I guess." He said softly to himself, smiling. "Maybe not the best, but she's not the worst."

Molly rolled over to face him. He could tell she was smiling, even though he couldn't see her through the dark.

"Maybe she is the best." He admitted. He knew she couldn't hear or see him, but he sensed her smile growing wider.

He hopped off the dollhouse's roof and began hovering towards the front door. He reached over to open the door, about to head inside and get some sleep, but turned to look back at the girl again. "Goodnight, Moll." He said quietly, then flew inside and shut the door.

* * *

Molly woke up the next morning with a smile on her face. She hopped out of her bed and kneeled down next to her friend's dollhouse, which was sitting on the other side of the room. "Good morning, Scratchy!"

She heard the voice of the ghost mumble something to himself, followed by a "five more minutes".

"Aww, come on, buddy, you can't stay in your dollhouse forever."

"Who says I can't?"

She playfully rolled her eyes. "Fine. But, just so you know, I think Mom and Dad are making waffles."

Scratch moaned. Molly knew too much about him, especially his relationship with food. Although he just wanted to lay there, eating waffles sounded good to him, so he forced himself to sit up straight. "Alright, fine, just give me a moment."

Molly laughed as she entered her closet to change out of her pajamas. She slipped on her white t-shirt, black shorts, magenta-colored skirt, and walked out of the closet as she slipped her jean jacket on. She opened the trap door that lead out of the attic and climbed down the ladder.

The rest of the McGees were already in the kitchen when Molly walked in. Her parents were standing by the fridge, conversing with one another. Her little brother Darryl was already sitting at the table, pouring what looked like a mountain of syrup onto his plate of waffles. 

"Darryl, slow down." Molly's mother Sharon stated.

"Why? Waffles are best when there's a lot of syrup." Darryl replied with a smirk.

Molly sat down next to him, but kept her distance so no syrup would splatter on her. There was already a plate set out for her, along with three other plates on the table.

"Morning, Molly." Her father Pete greeted.

"Good morning!" Molly cheerfully replied. She grabbed a few waffles and put them on her plate, then drizzled a small amount of syrup on them and began eating.

The syrup on Darryl's plate looked as if it was overflowing. Sharon ended up having to take the bottle away from him. "Alright, that's enough."

"Why you takin' the syrup bottle away from him?" A voice said, its mouth full of food. "Syrup is the best part."

Molly turned around to face Scratch, who was floating in the corner of the room and already eating a waffle. Molly smiled. Food always got Scratch out of bed.

"Thank you." Darryl praised, and the two high-fived each other. His hand was covered in syrup that it ended up getting on Scratch's ectoplasm. He didn't mind, though. The syrup felt just like a ghost's ectoplasm - cold and sticky, but easy to get used to .He wiped it off quickly and continued to munch on his waffle.

Sharon and Pete both took their places on the table, eating their waffles calmly. Scratch continued to float there, not knowing what to do. Pete motioned his head to an empty seat on the table - it was right in between him and Molly - and Scratch grudgingly took his place.

Family breakfast. That's usually how the McGees spent their Saturday mornings. He didn't quite understand it; he had never really been in a family himself, to say the least. He never understood anything about being in a family, which the McGees strangely understood, and somehow they still accepted him for it. It was odd.

Scratch smiled and continued to happily eat his waffles. The future seemed bright, as long as he was with Molly. Molly meant everything to him. She was the first and only person to give him unconditional love and support. As long as he was with Molly, everything would be okay.

But, little did he know, his entire afterlife was about to fall apart right before his eyes.

* * *

The Ghost Council never bothered to look at Brighton's misery meter. There was really no point. Brighton was relatively stable in misery, despite the laziest ghost in town being assigned to monitor it. There was no reason to keep track of it. Scratch, although rude and disgusting in their eyes, somehow always managed to keep the small town miserable. But, one day, as the Council was filing through the recent scare reports being submitted by all of their employees, they noticed something peculiar.

Brighton's misery had gone down again.

Over the past few months, for some strange reason, happiness had been slowly taking over Brighton. The Council had no idea why. Scratch would fix it, temporarily, but the happiness always creeped back. It happened again; fourth time in the last two months. Something was off. There was something causing the happiness, and that thing needed to be put to a stop before things got too bad. They spent a few hours trying to find the source of the happiness, and although it took a while, they soon knew exactly how to put the happiness to a stop. But, of course, Brighton wasn't their problem. It was Scratch's. So Scratch had to deal with the rising happiness.

Scratch always made it work. He always avoided being severely punished, despite the circumstances. He would make it work out. He always did.

After all, if he didn't, even Scratch himself knew how much trouble he'd be in.