What Wicked Lurks Within (Avengers x Reader)

Chapter 3

"It's cold in here." Bucky rubbed his hands together, whatever goal he intended to achieve seeing as one of them was metal and proceeded to be promptly disappointed when the friction did not generate warmth. Wanda said something he did not quite catch because his disappointment loomed very large; also because Clint and Natasha had begun their murderous screeching.

Pulling his knapsack taut over his back, he hunted for a room, hoping to find a bed and sink into it. Upon making a choice after much deliberation, Bucky dropped his bag on the table and inhaled deeply. However, he only received half a lungful of breath - the room was stuffy.

'Talk about adding insult to injury.' Sighing heavily, Bucky headed for the window. Opening it would hopefully let in some fresh air. Even after undoing the latch, the frame would not give. He could use his metal arm and break the damn thing but there was no way it was going to open functionally.

"Great! Nothing gets in." He hit the glass in mild frustration, careful not to use the hand Hydra graced him with. "And no one gets out." A hollow rasp echoed behind him. Bucky wheeled around, faster than he ever had in his entire life, only to be greeted with an empty room. The moan of dying wind could be heard.

Along with it came darkness. Now the room did not feel so empty after all. Every hair on Bucky's body stood on end as he desperately fumbled for the light switch. His hand only felt bare walls, until it did not, until it met flesh - perished, freezing flesh. It was a hand, that closed around his soon upon contact. In a newly restored panic, Bucky used his other hand to feel for the switch and thanked every God he had ever heard of when he was finally able to turn on the light.

When vision was bestowed upon him, the first thing he looked at was his hand, the hand that has just had the frigid encounter. It appeared to be the same - the same as the last time he had seen it. In other words, it did not look like it had been touched by something that belonged in the seventh circle of hell. The relief was gone as soon as it had come, for a dreadful sensation of being watched instantly came over him.

Bursting with apprehension, Bucky slowly turned to face the window and the earth swayed beneath his feet. Through the glass, he could see a face staring back at him - skin white as bone and eyes red as blood. Whilst staring into Bucky's very soul, it opened its mouth - the inside of which was black as death - and uttered a low, guttural, lifeless moan.

One could argue a thousand times over that this was the worst time for a realization, yet it dawned regardless. A shift in light allowed Bucky to see his own reflection in the glass and the sense of perception it brought upon made him realize the thing he was seeing was not something that stood outside the house but a reflection of something standing within.

This time, Bucky could not find it in himself to turn around. Tears were building in his eyes. The thing was beside him now, still staring, and the distance between them could not have been more than a few inches. Then it moved - closer, ever so slowly, getting closer every second. He closed his eyes, protecting his mind from whatever hell it was meant to see. 'Wake up! You must be sleeping. This has to be a dream!'

"You got a decent room. At least has a window, mine has none." Tony's voice gave Bucky enough courage to finally turn around. He would wildly disagree with both the statements Tony had just made, however, in that moment he chose to be grateful above all else. Owing to the interruption, the horrific episode he was having was over. The thing was gone, or lying in wait. Bucky shuddered.

"Yeah, it's paradise." He tried his best to keep his voice from wavering, "Do we...is there anything to eat?" In earnest, now that raw, unadulterated fear had passed over, Bucky felt hungry. Sam had burned his lunch, and then the whole building, but more importantly his lunch. He also could not stand to be in the room any longer.

Tony assessed his teammate. Something was definitely off about him, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Yeah, there's food in the hall." He answered. Before either of the two men could utter another word, an anguished scream rang out from somewhere upstairs. "HE'S NOT HERE! YOU SAID HE WOULD BE HERE!"

"Is that..." Bucky started a sentence that Tony completed, "Wanda? Yep, I'm gonna see what's up with her." Tony went one way and Bucky went another - into the hall. With much elation, he picked up a box of kung pao noodles and sauntered toward the kitchen.

As he was searching for a fork, he never bothered with chopsticks, a faint crying caught his ears. Bucky peeped into the hall - it was empty. Natasha had already climbed the top step by then. He ventured even further, into a room a door before the kitchen. "Hello?" It was abysmal. Not dark, he could see his hands and his feet, but nothing around.

The walls were black, as were the floor and ceiling. So black, he could no longer tell from where he got in, or from where to get out. Even in this all-consuming vortex of nothing, Bucky did not feel alone. Something most definitely lurked behind him, making its presence known.

Suddenly and all at once, Bucky wished he were dead. He wished he had died when he fell off the train, he wished he had died when the helicarrier fell, he wished he had died when Tony had tried to kill him. Rather simply, he wished he were not alive to live the moment he was currently living. He felt evil nearing - the kind of evil that you look at once and it swallows you whole.

His heart leaped into his mouth when he felt a hand on his back. "Are you alright?" It was you - your voice. Bucky turned around and felt faint with relief. He hugged you close, overwhelmed with the need to touch something, anything, that existed because it was supposed to. "Oh, it's you. Oh thank God, (Y/N)." You awkwardly patted his arm. "Yeah, Buck, Nat just bashed Steve's head in with a poker, so maybe you wanna check up on that."

"Wha-" He pulled back and you all but pushed him away, "Go! Go! Go!" He complied, taking two steps at a time in order to reach his best friend the fastest. Each person in the room seemed to be existing in a different realm. Steve was holding his head, which unmistakably was bleeding profusely. Natasha was sprawled on the floor, weeping, being comforted by Clint. He saw a pillow cover lying on her lap and thinking quickly, wrapped it tightly around Steve's head. "That should help."

"Yeah, (Y/N) said that." Steve groaned. You arrived at the door, struggling to breathe. "I can't find a first-aid kit." Only when his attention was forcibly disturbed did Bucky notice Sam and Tony had also made themselves present. "I'll buy bandages first thing in the morning. He will probably need stitches as well." Tony said gravely.

"There is nothing in this goddamn house!" You grit your teeth, just now agnizing the vexation within. Bucky's eyes were glued to the door. He could swear he had seen it again, the face - skin white as bone and eyes red as blood - peeping. For no longer than a moment, a ghastly moment. "And yet, there is something." He whispered.

"You alright, man?" Sam asked. He was too tired for someone else to have a psychotic episode that night. Bucky's gaze remained trained on the door and on the corridor beyond. He was waiting, waiting for something to happen and hoping it never would. "Yeah, I'm- I'm fine."

He was definitely sleeping out in the hall tonight.