The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean //

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Dec 28, 2015 13:19:50 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 28, 2015 13:19:50 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON FIVE. EPISODE NINE.

Dean raced the Impala across the country, Sam in the passenger seat, his phone open to the latest text. They'd been on the road for ten hours, having started at eleven the previous evening when the message from Chuck had arrived. Tires squealing to a halt in the Pineview Hotel's parking lot, both boys leapt from the car. Sam began to sprint towards the entrance, only stopping and turning back to gesture wildly at his brother who was staring at the line of matching Impalas. Sam might have taken time to wonder about this as well had he not been in such a rush. "Hey. Come on" he urged, and off they went again.

Chuck was pacing at the foot of the hotel's front stairs. The boys jogged up. "Chuck, there you are" Sam greeted him in relief. Chuck looked up, clearly surprised. "....guys?" "What's going on" Dean wanted to know breathlessly. "Ah, nothing...." Chuck wrung his hands out anxiously. "You know, I'm just...kinda...hang-" He cut his rambling off to ask a somewhat panicked question. "What are you guys doing here?" The boys exchanged a baffled look, then returned their focus to Chuck in exasperation. "You told us to come" Dean reminded him. Chuck's eyes widened slightly. "Uh...no I didn't." "Yeah you did, you texted me" Sam insisted. "This address, life or death situation. Any of this ringing a bell?" "I didn't send you a text" Chuck insisted right back. "We drove all night" Dean snapped. "I'm sorry" Chuck apologized, flustered. "I don't understand what could have hap..." He cut himself off again with a look of horrified dawning comprehension. "Oh no."

Before either brother could respond, there was a high pitched squeal from the top of the stairs. "SAM!!! You made it!" Sam turned around in time to see Becky, the obsessed fan girl they'd met months ago, sprinting down the steps, heading his direction. "Oh..." Sam tried to smile politely. "Uh...Becky, right?" Becky's face lit up. "Oh, you remembered." Her voice lowered into what was probably supposed to be a seductive tone. "You've been thinking about me." Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I...." "It's ok, I can't get you out of my head either" Becky assured him, giggling. Sam was at a loss as to what to say next without being rude but fortunately Chuck stepped in. "Becky, did you take my phone?" Becky shrugged. "I just borrowed it from your pants." Chuck massaged his temples wearily. "Becky..." "What?" Becky shrugged again, this time defensively. "They're going to want to see it!" Sam and Dean exchanged a brief look.

"See what?"

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Dec 28, 2015 14:19:57 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 28, 2015 14:19:57 GMT -5

Becky looked as though Christmas had come early. "Oh. My. God. I LOVE it when they talk at the same time!!!" From the top of the stairs, before anyone could react, a new voice interrupted. "Hey Chuck? Come on pal, it's showtime." A plump middle aged man in an ascot was holding a clipboard and waving it enthusiastically in Chuck's direction, holding open the front door with his other hand. Becky ran excitedly back up the stairs, disappearing inside. Chuck turned to the Winchesters with a thoroughly grief-stricken expression. "Guys. I'm sorry." He paused and then added a sincere, "for everything" before he followed the clipboard-wielding man inside. Dean glanced sideways at Sam, who shrugged, and the two of them headed for the door behind the rest. Something was clearly going on here.

Once inside, a very stocky guy carrying a pint of beer strolled past, chuckling. "Hey Dean, lookin' good" he complimented. Dean had never seen this man before in his life. "Who the hell are you?" The man turned around completely so Dean could see he was wearing clothing actually very similar to his own and there was a necklace around his neck with something that strongly resembled his amulet. He stared at Dean for a minute with the word 'duh' written all over his face. "...I'm Dean too. Duh." He wandered off, still chuckling. Dean turned to look at his brother, confused, and over Sam's shoulder noticed a scarecrow approaching. He gave a start. Sam, wondering what the reaction was about, turned and did the same thing. But instead of attacking the boys, the scarecrow, which was actually just a guy in a costume, pretended to be scared. "Uh-oh. It's Sam and Dean. I'm in trouble now." He lifted a can of soda, took a long swig and then waved a plastic scythe in their faces, chuckling. "Have fun you two." He moved off. Dean stared after him. "What the..."

As they moved deeper into the lobby, everywhere they looked were people dressed up like creatures they'd faced over the years. On top of that, people were dressed up like Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, and Ash, and more besides. On a long table in the middle of the room were piles of merchandise, including copies of Chuck's "Supernatural" books, and the man selling it all had black contacts in, made to look like a demon. "What the..." Dean repeated, too befuddled to say much else. Sam was able to string together a complete question for Becky's benefit, who had shown up behind them, grinning from ear to ear. "Uh, Becky? What is this??" "It's awesome!!" Becky gestured at a large banner in the doorway to the main conference room. "A supernatural convention. The first ever." Dean would not call that awesome. And he called a LOT of things awesome.
~~~

Fifteen minutes later found the boys and Becky standing in the back of the conference room where a few dozen chairs were set up facing the stage. Only about three quarters of the chairs were filled. It wasn't what you would call the most popular of series, fortunately. Or at least, fortunately from where the boys were sitting. Unfortunately, if you were a fan of the books or the publisher who lost work because of this fact. On the stage, the clipboard man, who seemed to be in charge of the convention, was announcing the day's schedule. "Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention. At 3.45 in the Magnolia room we have the panel, 'Frightened little boy, the secret life of Dean'." Dean set his jaw. "And at 4.30 there's the 'Homoerotic subtext of Supernatural'." The boys shared a pained look as many of the audience members stirred, appearing excited about this particular panel. "Oh, and of course the big hunt starts at 7pm sharp" the host finished, met by cheers and applause. When they'd quieted down, he made one final announcement. "But right now, right now I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator, and the writer of the supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!"

The applause was thunderous as Chuck wandered timidly out onto the stage. Stepping up to the mic, he cleared his throat, receiving quite a bit of feedback, so he stepped back a smidge and tried again. "Ok. Ok good, this isn't nearly as awkward as I...." He cleared his throat once more, his voice raspy. "Dry mouth." As he grabbed a water bottle from the nearby stool and drank most of it down in one gulp, the audience watched him with rapt attention. Well...most of it anyway. Sam and Dean were stonefaced. "Ok." Chuck set the nearly empty water bottle back down, cleared his throat a final time, and got down to business. "Uh...ahem. So I guess...questions?" Every hand in the room, save for Sam, Dean, and Becky, shot up. Chuck looked surprised and a little flattered. He pointed to a young, very skinny man in the front row. "Ok, you." Standing up, the fan was practically shaking from excitement. "Hey, Mr Edlund. Uh...big fan. I was just wondering, where'd you come up with Sam and Dean in the first place?" Sam and Dean cocked their heads to one side in unison, interested to hear the answer. Chuck's gaze inevitably slid their way as he stammered, "oh, ah, I...it just came to me." The skinny fan sat down, appeased, and more hands shot into the air. Chuck pointed again. "Ok. Yeah. The, uh, hook man." A fan dressed as the hook man they'd defeated years earlier got to his feet, speaking in a heavily german accent. "Ah yeah. Why in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their gun or knife knocked away by the bad guy? Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?" Sam looked relatively intrigued by this comment. Dean did not.

"I...yeah, I really don't know" Chuck admitted, beginning to look flustered again. "Ja, follow up." The hook man put his hook back in the air, continuing to speak without waiting to be called on. "Why can't Sam and Dean be telling that Ruby is evil? I mean she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nein?" Sam no longer looked intrigued. Now he looked majorly pissed. Dean crossed his arms and tilted his head sideways, studying Sam pointedly at this remark. "HEY!" Becky was shooting little death glares at the hook man as she stalked down the row of chairs. "If you don't like the books don't read em Fritz." Fritz held up his hands, looking taken aback by the attack. Chuck held up his own hands, trying to diffuse the argument. "Ok, Ok, just..okay, it's okay." As Becky made her way slowly back to where Sam and Dean were standing, Chuck addressed the crowd at large again. "So, next question." Multiple hands shot up. Chuck pointed to one of them. "Yeah, you." The guy who stood up couldn't be more than 20 years of age. He was wearing a canvas jacket that looked incredibly similar to the one Sam was wearing at the current moment. "Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to hell" he summarized eagerly. "So, what happens next?" "Oh." Chuck looked down at the floor and then back up again, wringing out his hands. "Well there lies an announcement, actually. You're all going to find out." He took a deep breath, his eyes finding Sam and Dean, who were eying him suspiciously. "Thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we're going to start publishing again." The room erupted.
~~~

It took them awhile to find Chuck after the panel ended. He was mobbed by screaming, overjoyed fans, all wanting an autograph and all wanting a hint as to the coming attractions in the soon to be published books. And the boys couldn't exactly confront him with all those unsuspecting, naïve, civilians around who truly believed the books were just books. Then he disappeared. But they finally found him later that evening in the lounge, drinking some kind of yellow beverage with Becky. Becky's eyes lit up as they approached. "Oh hi Sam!" Sam gave her a strained smile while Dean went right after Chuck. "In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, ok" he whisper-hissed in annoyance. "Finding the Colt, hunting the devil. We don't have time for this crap." "Hey, I didn't call you" Chuck reminded them defensively. "He means the books, Chuck" Sam translated, in a slightly more patient, though by no means pleased, tone. "Why are you publishing more books?" "Um...for food and shelter" Chuck explained plaintively. Dean leaned over Chuck's chair, getting right in his face. "Who gave you the rights to our life story??" "An archangel and I didn't want it" Chuck countered instantly, shrinking back in his seat. "Well, deal's off, ok" Sam informed him tightly as Dean straightened up. "No more books. Our lives are not for public consumption." Chuck looked from Becky to the boys and then back to Becky, his tone about one octave higher than usual. "Uh...Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?" Becky nodded with her eyes still on Sam. "Uh huh." Sam and Dean followed Chuck into the hallway. The instant they were out of Becky's eye and ear shot, Chuck rounded on them. "Do you guys know what I do for a living?" Sam sighed. "Yeah Chuck, we know." "Then could you tell me" Chuck fired back, struggling to keep his voice low. "Cause I don't, all right? I'm not a good writer. I've got no marketable skills. I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, Ok? Until the world ends, I gotta live, all right? And the Supernatural books are all I've got. What else do you want me to do" he pleaded. Dean didn't really have much of an answer for that and he could tell from Sam's expression he didn't either. But they were saved from having to come up with anything by the distant sound of a woman screaming. Ignoring Chuck's "no, guys, wait", they took off at a sprint for the stairs. A young maid was on the ground at the top of them, looking only marginally frightened. Sam stepped forward to help her up. "Are you ok?" She shivered. "I think so." "What happened" Dean wanted to know, trying hard to ignore the jostling of people behind him as at least six other people appeared on the scene. "I saw a ghost" the maid exclaimed. From directly behind Dean, the skinny man from the earlier audience spoke up in a very deep fake voice completely different from the one he'd used when asking Chuck his question. "A ghost? Could you tell us what it looked like?" "Why don't you leave this to the grownups pal" Dean suggested wryly as the maid began her description. "A woman. She was in an old fashioned dress. Really old. Like a school marm, or something?" The 20 year old who'd asked the final question of the panel spoke up next, also in a slow drawl. "Did she say something to you?" "Ok." The maid began to grin eagerly. "Gather close everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror!" She gestured everyone to approach. "I saw, a ghost! None other than the ghost of Letisha Gore herself!" Dean held up his hands and walked away, Sam close behind him. Becky came skipping over, clutching a sheet of paper and smiling widely, much like she'd been doing ever since they got there. "Ooh the LARPing's started" she informed them excitedly. "The..." Dean knew he'd heard the word before but couldn't remember what it meant. "What is that again?" "Live action role playing" Becky supplied promptly. "It's a game. The convention puts it on." With that being said, she thrust the paper in her hands towards Sam, who took it warily. "Dad's Journal" he read aloud, frowning. "Dear Sam and Dean, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a...$50 gift card to Sizzler. Love Dad." He lowered the page, looking irked. Dean's expression was pretty much a mirror image. Becky didn't notice or didn't care. She beamed at them. "You guys are sooooo gonna win."

Ten minutes later found the boys back downstairs in the foyer, listening from a distance as the host of the convention/hotel manager addressed a crowd of fake Dean and Sams who all were dressed in suits and holding out fake badges. "Well yes Agents Lennon and McCartney, as manager of this fine establishment I can assure you that it is indeed haunted. This building was once an orphanage, run by mean old Leticia Gore. 100 years ago this very night, Miss Gore went insane, and butchered four little boys before killing herself. Now folks say that the souls of those poor little boys are trapped here and the evil spirit of Miss Gore punishes them...to this very day." Dean turned away, making a face. "Well that's just about all the community theatre I can take." Sam inclined his head in a slow nod of vehement agreement. "Yeah. This can not get any weirder."

The fat Dean from the foyer and the skinny Sam from the conference room strolled past, in the middle of a conversation. "Dad said...Dad said I might have to kill you" "Dean" was saying in a gruff voice. "Kill me" "Sam" echoed with overly wide eyes. "What does that mean?" "Dean" shook his head dramatically. "I. Don't. Know." They moved on. The real Sam and Dean looked at each other, with pained expressions, speaking in unison. "I need a drink."
~~~

The bar wasn't crowded. Everyone was off working the hunt, Dean supposed. The only person at the bar other than he and Sam was a young woman texting on her phone. She was wearing a white, lacy dress, clearly meant to be an old school marm's appearance which led Dean to the conclusion she was an actress portraying Letisha Gore for the game. While Sam nursed his beer, looking off into space, Dean downed his second shot, calming his frayed nerves slightly and then turned towards the woman. "How you doing?" "Busy" she replied promptly without looking up from her phone. "Well you sure look lovely tonight" he complimented genuinely, though he couldn't stop himself from adding a slight quip. "Especially for a dead chick." "Buddy, I have heard that line 17 times tonight, ok" she informed him in exasperation, still not looking up. "And all from dudes wearing MacGyver jackets...." Finishing whatever she was doing on her phone and finally looking up to see who was addressing her, she straightened up, smiling welcomingly. "But you seem different." Dean tilted his head to the side. "How so?" "Well, you don't seem scared of women" was the immediate answer. Dean smiled confidently by way of response.

"For the last time I'm not making this up, ok?" The 20 year old "Sam" from earlier was approaching the bar with his accompanying "Dean" close behind. They were mid-argument. "She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost." "Excuse me." The conversation peaking his interest, Dean tipped his head politely at the woman he'd been chatting with and he and Sam made their way over. The young "Dean" shook his head, obviously not buying it. "I'm sure it was just one of the ghost actors." "Who beat the hell out of me and then vanished" "Sam" challenged, and as the real Sam and Dean approached, Dean could see a plainly evident gash on "Sam's" forehead. "You saw something" Sam wanted to know. "Sam" waved this off. "This isn't part of the game jerk." He turned back to his friend, looking spooked. "Look, Tim, I'm getting out of here and you should do the same." Now Tim was starting to look spooked too. "Alex! Alex, wait" he called after his buddy as Alex took off at a brisk pace towards the exit. "Come back!" After a second, Tim hurried after him. Sam lifted an eyebrow, sharing a glance with his brother. "What do you think?" Dean stared after the pair of LARPers thoughtfully.

"I don't think that guy's a good enough actor to be acting."

Last Edit: Dec 30, 2015 22:47:16 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Dec 30, 2015 22:59:23 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Dec 30, 2015 22:59:23 GMT -5

"Why yes agents Jagger and Richards. As manager of this fine establishment I can assure you it is indeed haunted." The convention manager was giving his little spiel again to a new group of "Sam and Dean's" in the hotel foyer. But Sam and Dean didn't stick around to hear it for a second time. Instead, they continued past the group to the front desk where the hotel manager was typing away furiously at his computer. "Excuse us." Dean stepped up to the counter, smiling politely. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?" "Look, I don't have time to play Star Wars guys" he informed them impatiently, barely looking up. "Go ask the guy in the ascot." The boys swapped a brief look before Dean pulled a crisp 50 dollar bill from his wallet, slapped it onto the counter, and pushed it across the desktop with two fingers pointedly. "Actually we ah...really want to talk to you." The manager picked up the money and tucked it into his breast pocket, shaking his head with a slight chuckle. "Wow, you guys are really into this." Sam smiled tightly.

"You have no idea."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Dec 30, 2015 23:23:29 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Dec 30, 2015 23:23:29 GMT -5

The manager nodded and faced them expectantly. "What do you want to know?" Sam wasted no time. "All this stuff they're saying. This place being haunted. Leticia Gore. Any truth to it?" The manager gave a nod and rueful smile. "We generally don't like to publicise this to...normal people...but yeah. 1909 this place was called 'Gore Orphanage'. Miss Gore, killed four boys with a butchers knife, then offed herself." "And is tonight really the anniversary" Dean pressed curiously. The manager nodded again. "Yep, guess your convention folks want authenticity." "There been any sightings" Sam wanted to know casually. The manager nodded for a third time. "Yep, over the years. A few maids have quit saying they heard the boys or saw them. A janitor even supposedly saw Miss Gore once." "And where did Miss Gore carve up the kids" Dean pressed, leaning a little closer.

The manager sighed. "Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off limits to nerds." Dean pulled another crisp fifty from his wallet and pushed it towards the manager, waiting expectantly. He looked at Dean, then down at the money with a small smile, picked it up, pocketed it, and leaned closer, lowering his voice. "The attic."
~~~

"The EMF's going nuts" Sam observed as they slithered through the attic's crawl space, each wielding a flashlight, Sam holding the EMF detector, Dean with a loaded salt gun. "Great." Dean scowled, aiming his flashlight straight ahead. "So we got a real ghost, and we got a bunch of dudes pretending to be us poking at it." "No way this ends well" Sam agreed, directing his own flashlight another direction. "Yeah well it serves them right" Dean huffed in annoyance after a beat, having had more than just about enough of these LARPers. Sam's tone took on a warning tint. "Dean..." The older Winchester shrugged innocently.

"I'm just saying."

Last Edit: Jan 2, 2016 10:08:01 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 10:59:12 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 10:59:12 GMT -5

Sam rolled his eyes, turning to investigate a small, cluttered corner of the attic. "My mommy loves me" a sudden voice informed the brothers. Sam spun around so fast he nearly tripped, aiming his flashlight at the attic's opposite corner where a small pale boy was sitting, his knees hunched up to his chest, holding his head. Dean stepped up beside his brother to get a better look. "I said my mommy loves me" the boy repeated. Sam smiled encouragingly at him. "I'm sure she does." "My mommy loves me this much" the boy exclaimed, moving his hands away from his head to reveal he had been partially scalped. Sam and Dean recoiled a step in shock. The boy flickered once, then disappeared.
~~~

Sam and Dean returned to the hotel lobby after their attic excursion. Dean took a seat at one of the many tables while Sam pulled out his cell phone and called the local historical society on an information seeking mission. The man on the other end of the line was very helpful, giving Sam all the information he needed. Doing his best to ignore Becky who was sitting a few feet away, eyeing him seductively, he mentally recorded the whole conversation, then hung up and returned to Dean. "All right. So that was a guy with the County Historical Society." "And" Dean prompted. "Not only did Leticia Gore butcher four boys, but one of them was her own son" Sam explained tensely. "Her son" Dean echoed, looking horrified. "Yeah." Sam gave a grim nod, recounting more of the information he'd received. "According to the police at the time, she scalped the poor kid." "Oh that's it, I'm gunna deep fry this bitch extra crispy" Dean threatened darkly. "Dude say where she was buried?" Sam lifted his shoulders and let them drop again in a helpless shrug.

"He doesn't know."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 13:55:45 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 13:55:45 GMT -5

"Check it out. There's the orphanage, here's the carriage house, and right there... cemetery." From two tables away, the sounds of the fat "Dean" and skinny "Sam" conversing met the real Sam and Dean's ears. "Sam" was pointing at a map spread out on the table between them. "You think that's where Letisha's planted" "Dean" theorized, leaning over the map as well. Dean glanced over at his brother and wordlessly they rose as one, heading over to the other table. "Worth a shot" "Sam" was saying as the Winchesters approached. Without warning or even a greeting, Sam reached out to feel the edges of the map. "Hey" "Sam" shouted, upset. "Dean" snatched back the map possessively. "Do you mind??" Sam turned to Dean, ignoring the complaints. "It's real. A century old, at least, and he's right, there is a cemetery on the grounds." "Where'd you get that" Dean demanded, narrowing his eyes. "It's called a game pal" "Dean" informed him, folding up the map and slipping it into an inner jacket pocket. "It ain't called charity." Dean held out one hand, gesturing in annoyance. "Yeah, ok. Gimme the map, Chuckles." "Oh, YOU'RE the Chuckles, Chuckles" was "Dean's" oh so not original comeback. "Besides, Dean don't listen to nobody." He pulled back his jacket to reveal the handle of a plastic gun stashed in his waistband. "Dean" "Sam" warned in his usual slow lazy drawl. "Cool it." Dean rolled his eyes, pulling back his own jacket, the handle of his Taurus poking out of an inner pocket. "Dean!" Sam put a hand on his brother's arm warningly, lowering it, forcing him to release the jacket without removing the gun. "What" Dean griped, shaking his arm free of Sam's grip irritably. "They're freaking annoying."

"Sam" and "Dean" were watching this little exchange warily, the sight of Dean's real gun freaking them out just a smidge. Sam turned away from Dean to address the pair patiently. "Look, guys. We all wanna find the bones right? We just thought...it would go faster if we all worked together." "Sam" and "Dean" exchanged looks. "We...ah...we get the sizzler gift card" "Sam" finally pitched as a negotiation. Dean rolled his eyes again. "Fine." He didn't even have to consult with Sam on that one. Neither of them cared about winning some stupid gift card, they just wanted to stop the ghost before she hurt someone. "And we get to be Sam and Dean" "Dean" added hopefully. Now Dean consulted with Sam, the two of them exchanging a long look before Dean rolled his eyes for a third time in as many minutes, conceding, no matter how ridiculous it was. "Fine."
~~~

"Hey Rufus, Bobby, would you hurry it up" "Dean" ordered impatiently over one shoulder as he and "Sam" led the way down a path along the outskirts of the grounds. "You ok" Sam wanted to know in an undertone. Dean set his jaw. "I'm trying to be." He exhaled deeply, counting to five. "Ok, where were we" "Sam" wanted to know in his usual voice. "Dean", also in his normal voice, responded with, "ah, Dr Ellicott had just zapped your brain." "Ah, right, gotcha." "Sam" cleared his throat and slid back into character. "Why are we even here Dean? You just following dad's footsteps like a good little soldier? You that desperate for approval?" "This isn't you talking Sam" "Dean" grunted in an attempt at sounding pained. Dean speared his brother with an actual pained look that clearly read "how much more of this do we have to put up with?" Sam frowned by way of response while "Sam" up ahead was reciting, "see that's the difference between you and me. I got a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic." "So what are ya going to do Sam" "Dean" challenged. "Are you going to kill me?" Dean felt his teeth grinding against each other in their effort to keep his mouth shut. He could vividly remember lying on the cold hard ground in that abandoned asylum, covered in broken bits of wall, his ribs throbbing from the rocksalt shot he'd just taken. Having this conversation for real. How anyone could just act this situation out like it was entertainment was beyond him. "Man I am so sick of you telling me what to do" "Sam" growled. "All right, you know what?" Dean stopped walking. "That's it."

Sam, "Sam" and "Dean" stopped walking as well, the latter two turning to face Dean. "What's wrong Bobby" "Dean" demanded impatiently. Dean, anger radiating from him in practically visible waves, couldn't find words to speak for a moment before he was exploding. "I'm not Bobby, ok?! He's not Rufus! You're not Sam. You're not Dean. What is wrong with you? Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?" There was a stunned silence for a few seconds before "Sam" was answering, back to his normal voice again. "...because we're fans. Like you." "No." Dean shook his head vigorously. "I am not a fan, ok." He pointed between himself and his brother with the same amount of vigor. "Not fans. In fact, I think that the Dean and Sam story sucks. It is not fun. It is not entertaining. It is a river of crap that would send momst people howling to the nut house." He lowered his voice warningly. "So you listen to me. Their pain is not for your amusement. I mean do you think they enjoy being treated like... like circus freaks?" "Sam" and "Dean" exchanged a baffled look. "Uh....I don't think they care" "Dean" began slowly, looking at Dean as though he'd grown another head. "Because they're FICTIONAL characters!" "Oh they care" Dean corrected him sharply, his spine bristling.

"They care a lot."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 14:08:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 14:08:58 GMT -5

Sam couldn't deny he was having a pretty hard time listening to this little reenactment going on in front of them. The memory of shooting Dean with rocksalt, then nearly plugging him for good was just a little too raw and painful to hear it recited so flippantly by these two LARPers. But it clearly wasn't getting under his skin as much as it was Dean's, as was evident by his blow up. As he stalked away, "Sam" and "Dean" stared at Sam with raised eyebrows, obviously looking for an explanation. Sam attempted a smile.

"He..uh...he takes the story really seriously."

Dean Winchester
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Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 19:03:54 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 19:03:54 GMT -5

Dean walked ahead of the rest of the group at a brisk pace for the rest of the trip. By the time they'd reached the cemetery, he'd cooled off slightly. "I found the four boys" Dean called out, directing his flashlight at the plot of land holding four tombstone markers clumped together. "And here's Leticia Gore" Sam called back from a few feet away. The sound of whispering and shuffling feet interrupted Dean's focus. He glanced up idly to find "Sam" and "Dean" tip toeing around the edge of the cemetery, shining their flashlights into the bushes, conversing in low tones with each other. Dean raised a curious eyebrow. "Uh...what are you guys doing?" "We're looking for bones genius" "Dean" informed him, still in character. "They gotta be around here somewhere." Dean rolled his eyes, dropping his duffel to the ground, squatting and unzipping it. "Well, generally...bones are in the ground" he wisecracked, reaching into the duffel with one hand. "Yeah, I know that" "Dean" replied in a "duh" tone. "I just..." He trailed off as Dean pulled a shovel free of the bag, holding it up in an offerance to Sam who was standing behind him. "Wait, hold on." "Dean" was no longer speaking in character, looking alarmed. "Are you guys serious?" Dean straightened up with a second shovel in hand. "Deadly."

"Sam" looked between the brothers nervously. "We're not really digging up graves you guys, we're just playing a game." Sam speared the dirt with his shovel, beginning to dig. Dean glanced over at the other pair. "Trust us" he assured them seriously. "You wanna win the game, right?" "Sam" and "Dean" exchanged uncertain glances before nodding in unison and letting the boys dig without further question.

For the next half an hour or so, there was silence in the cemetery. "Sam" and "Dean" stood at the edge of the grave, shining their flashlights into its depths to aid Sam and Dean with the last bit of digging. With just another shovelful or two left, Sam tossed his shovel up onto the bank, then heaved himself out and dusted off his hands, leaving Dean to finish the job. As Leticia's remains were uncovered, "Sam" and "Dean" recoiled in horror. "That's not a plastic skeleton" "Dean" pointed out, stumbling back a step. "That's a...that's a skeleton skeleton." "You just dug up a real grave" "Sam" added numbly. Dean, still in the grave, gave them a "duh" look of his own. "Yeah." "You guys are nuts" "Dean" breathed, looking between the brothers with wide eyes. Sam crossed his arms. "I thought you guys wanted to be hunters." "Hunters aren't real man" "Dean" fired back, beginning to freak out. He continued backing away. "This isn't real." "Sam" and "Dean" turned to leave. "My God" "Sam" threw out in a disparaging tone. "You guys have seriously lost your grip on this..." Dean, who had looked down at Leticia's corpse momentarily, looked back up to find out why "Sam" had trailed off and found him staring in transfixed horror at something behind Sam. "What" Sam snapped aggressively. "Sam" lifted a shaking finger and pointed. The ghost of Leticia Gore was standing at Sam's elbow. "Naughty, naughty, naughty" she cackled loudly, to be heard above the wind, before backhanding Sam hard in the face, sending him halfway across the cemetery. "Sam!" Dean propelled himself up and out of the grave, sprinting for his abandoned duffel bag.

Meanwhile, "Sam" and "Dean" had begun screaming like banshees, running for the closest exit. Halfway there, "Sam" tripped. "Barnes" "Dean" yelled in panicked alarm, running back to help him up. The wind had reached near howling pitches by now. As Dean rummaged around in his duffel bag for lighter fluid, Leticia's ghost materialized in front of "Sam" and "Dean", shoving a hand into each of their chests. "Sam" and "Dean" fell to their knees, screaming in pain. Quickening his pace, Dean spread kerosene and salt over the entirety of Leticia's corpse, then lit a match and dropped it in. With a final nasty scream, Leticia went up in flames, vanishing permanently. Sam was sitting up slowly in the grass a few feet away, one hand touching the blossoming bruise on his forehead. "Sam" and "Dean" were holding onto each other, looking thoroughly horrified. Dean, breathing deeply, turned to face them without an ounce of humor on his face.

"Real enough for you?"

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
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Posts: 958

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 19:14:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 19:14:42 GMT -5

Back at the motel, the boys found "Sam" and "Dean" at the bar, consuming quite a bit of alcohol. "That...that was..." "Dean" was staring into his empty shot glass, struggling to find words as the Winchesters approached. So Dean helped him out. "Awful. Right?" "Sam" and "Dean" turned on their bar stools, fear still quite evident in their expressions. "Exactly." Dean clapped "Dean" on the shoulder, peeled a fresh twenty dollar bill from his wallet and slapped it down onto the bar. "Round's on us guys." Sam spared them both a final smile. "See you around."

"Hey." "Dean's" voice stopped them in their tracks. "How'd you know how to do all that?" "We, uh..." Sam glanced over at his brother who shrugged and nodded. There would be no point in telling them who they were. They were leaving. And besides, they wouldn't believe them anyway. So Sam simply allowed another smile, shrugging modestly.

"We read the books."

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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 19:25:37 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jan 2, 2016 19:25:37 GMT -5

-- "Chuck " --

Chuck had been feeling pretty alright about the way the convention was going so far. He hadn't really wanted to do it in the first place but he'd been running low on funds so he'd finally agreed to it. But then the Winchesters had showed up, complicating everything. Still, it could have gone much worse.

Standing in the foyer late that evening, talking to the convention host, he was even starting to feel a little relaxed. But then Sam and Dean came striding over, neither with a very friendly look on their face. "Hey Chuck" Dean greeted. "Good luck with the Supernatural books." He paused for maybe half a second and then finished bluntly with, "and screw you very much." He and Sam brushed past him, heading for the exit. The convention host gestured after them, looking confused. "Fans of yours?" Chuck smiled weakly.

"I'd say no."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 2, 2016 19:54:58 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 2, 2016 19:54:58 GMT -5

Dean was so ready to get out of there. This had been without a doubt the strangest day of his life. And that was saying a lot.

Upon reaching the front doors to the hotel, he and Sam both pressed their shoulders against them, but nothing happened. Dean frowned, pressing a flat palm to the door and giving it a little shove. Still nothing. Frowning deeper, he twisted the lock to make sure it wasn't in place. It wasn't. Dean turned to his brother, his expression unsettled. "That's weird." Sam nodded. "Definitely."
~~~

Twenty minutes later, Dean was struggling to open the last of the first floor windows to no avail. Sam came jogging up, looking perturbed. His expression said it all but Dean felt the need to ask anyway. "Anything?" "Every exit's locked" Sam supplied promptly. "Almost like..." "Something's keeping us here" Dean finished rhetorically, giving the window a frustrated thump with one fist. "Yeah" Sam agreed, furrowing his brow. "This is bad." Dean's immediate return of "gee, ya think Sammy" was heavily coated with sarcasm. Sam opened his mouth to retaliate but a woman's scream from somewhere above their heads distracted them both. Rushing upstairs, Dean practically collided with the young woman from the bar who was looking over her shoulder while she ran. "Don't go in there" she informed them in a shaky voice, pointing to the library. "Go downstairs ok" Dean coaxed her, kindly yet firmly at the same time. "Go!"

The Winchesters made their way into the library to find Leticia's son crouched in the corner, holding his head again. "Why'd you do that" he whimpered. "Why'd you send my mommy away?" Dean stared at him in disbelief. "Ah, maybe because of the high and tight she gave you, huh? How bout some thanks." Sam cleared his throat warningly. "Ahem." "Well, I'm just saying a little gratitude might be nice once in a while" Dean grumbled. Leticia's son shook his head miserably. "My mommy didn't do this to me." "What??" Sam and Dean swapped looks, confused. Sam took a step closer to the boy. "Then who did?" Without answering, Leticia's son flickered once, and then vanished. The boys exchanged another look.

Before they could say or do anything else, however, there was another scream. This time from a male voice. Dean was first on the scene, Sam only a step behind. And what they found, lying in a pool of his own blood, scalped, was the hook man, Fritz. Dean shared a grim look with his brother.

"I think we missed something."

Last Edit: Jan 2, 2016 19:55:20 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 3, 2016 19:08:42 GMT -5

Quote

Post by NPC on Jan 3, 2016 19:08:42 GMT -5

-- "Chuck" --

After the hunt had finished and the winning team had received their gift card, all other panels being over, everyone had sort of wandered back to the main conference room to hear more from Chuck. But now it was nearing ten o'clock at night which meant the convention was over, at least for the day. "Well guys I guess we're out of time" Chuck announced into the microphone, trying to mask how relieved he felt not to be in the spotlight anymore. "So thank you for your incredibly probing and rigorous questions, and have a good..." He trailed off as Sam came hurrying up onto the stage, wondering what this was about. He'd thought the Winchesters had bailed already.

"You have a ghost problem at this hotel'; Fritz is dead" Sam whispered urgently into Chuck's ear. "What" Chuck yelped loudly, his eyes widening in panic. "Holy crap!" He'd spoken louder than he'd meant to, the microphone still in close proximity to his mouth and the audience members all began to murmur in curious concern. Sam clapped one hand over the microphone, speaking in a whisper through a forced smile for the audience's benefit. "Dean and I can handle it but you gotta keep everyone safe in here Chuck. This is life or death." "For how long" he wanted to know anxiously, not overwhelmingly confident in his ability to protect all these people from ghosts. "As long as it takes" Sam replied unhelpfully. "Well...how the hell am I supposed to do that" Chuck blustered frantically. He'd already made it pretty clear that he wasn't a monster hunter. He didn't have the skill or nerve for it. Sam glanced out at the audience, all of whom were straining their ears, obviously trying to catch wind of the nature of Chuck and Sam's conversation. Sill forcing a smile and talking through his teeth, Sam gave his most unhelpful answer yet. "I don't know man. Just do it." Then he walked off the stage.

"Ok." Chuck cleared his throat, facing the expectant audience. "So ahh, good news. I got much more to tell you..." He smiled weakly, wracking his brains.

"I guess."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 3, 2016 21:40:40 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Jan 3, 2016 21:40:40 GMT -5

While Sam was letting Chuck in on the issue at hand, Dean was rounding up the hotel's other guests and staff, even the ones that had nothing to do with the convention. "Buddy, I got work to do" the hotel manager complained as he was shepparded into the main conference room along with everyone else. "You're gunna want to see this, trust me" Dean promised, waving him towards a chair in the back row. "It's gunna be a hell of a show." The rest of the straggling staff and guests trailed in, finding seats as well. The final person to enter was the woman Dean had been speaking with at the bar, the Leticia Gore actress. She still looked rather shaken. On stage, Chuck was rambling away nervously. "Ah, what does the future hold for Sam and Dean? Well, how do you feel about angels?" The audience stared at him blankly, obviously not overjoyed with the concept. Dean couldn't blame them. "Yeah, well let me tell you, they're not nearly as lame as you think" Chuck promised, gripping the microphone tightly.

Sam entered the conference room with two large bags of salt he'd taken from the kitchen. He and Dean closed the doors, confident that not another soul was out there wandering the hotel corridors where they'd be easy ghost prey, and began laying down a thick line of salt. No one questioned it, obviously thinking it was just part of the ambience of the supernatural convention. Dean straightened up, tossing his spent bag of salt to one side. "Ok. New theory. The legends about Leticia are ass-backwards obviously." "Yeah" Sam snorted in obvious agreement before tossing out his idea. "So all right, let's say those three orphans were playing cowboys and Indians"- "LARPing as cowboys and Indians" Dean amended, proud of himself for remembering the term. Sam waved this aside, unimpressed. "Whatever. And let's say they scalped Leticia's son and killed him." "Mom catches 'em in the act, flips out, slices them and dices herself" Dean finished, nodding grimly. "If that's true it means we've got three bloodthirsty brats in the building" Sam pointed out, his expression equally grim. "Yeah and Leticia was the only one keeping them under control" was Dean's belated conclusion. Sam sighed heavily. "Until we took her out." Dean made a face, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Smooth move on our part." He took a deep breath, reorganizing his thoughts. "Ok, well we gotta get back to the cemetery, torch the kids' bones." "How??" Sam held out his arms wide, his expression incredulous. "We're trapped, we don't even have our guns! The ghosts are running this joint and they're only scared of one thing." He held up one finger, illustrating his point further. Dean's eyes lit up in realization. "Exactly."

"You want me to do what?" The Leticia Gore actress was staring with eyes wide as dinner plates at the brothers as they finished their plea for her to pose as the real Leticia Gore. "You're an actress" Dean reminded her patiently. "We just want you to act." "I work at Hooters, in Toledo" she corrected, shaking her head with force. "No, you can forget it." "You'll be safe, we promise" Sam assured her. "This is really important." Before she could respond in any way, a hand was touching Dean's shoulder. Turning slightly, he came face to face with "Sam" and "Dean". "We wanna help" "Dean" informed him. "Just give her the puppy dog thing ok" Dean instructed his brother quickly before giving the other two his full attention with a serious, "guys, no." "Sam" looked put out. "Why not?" "Because this isn't make-believe" Dean stressed, trying to get it through their heads. "Look, we know" "Dean" assured him in a low voice. "We're not nuts. We're freakin' terrified." "Yeah but if all these people are seriously in trouble, we gotta do something" "Sam" finished bravely. Dean shook his head, confused. "Why?" "Sam" and "Dean" looked at each other and then back to Dean, "Dean" being the one to finally answer. "Because. That's what Sam and Dean would do." He had a point.
~~~

"I don't want to do this." The actress was shaking from head to foot as she entered the library, still donned in her Leticia Gore costume. Dean, carrying an iron fireplace poker, leaned around the corner of the wall he was hiding behind to address her with encouraging words. "I'm right here sweetheart, I've got your back. Trust me, this is going to work." He pulled back again, grimacing uncertainly. "Boys?" The actress' voice shook slightly the first time but she pulled off a pretty convincing performance after that. "Boys? Come here this instant. You come when I call you. You understand me?" With a few staticy flickers, the boys finally materialized, looking puzzled and a bit afraid. "Miss. Gore?" "You boys have been very naughty" the actress went on sternly. "Now you open the doors. Open the doors right now." The boys flickered backwards, worried. And just when it appeared they were on the verge of obeying, there was a loud burst of music coming from the actress' pocket which turned out to be the ringtone of her phone. Dean closed his eyes and softly banged his head backwards against the wall in a non-verbal "crap". Ghosts did not possess cell phones. The jig was up. The boys had stopped flickering and were now advancing on the terrified looking actress, each holding a sharp knife. Dean pushed off of the wall, moving around to its other side to join her. Gripping the poker tightly, he got between the ghosts and their intended victim, setting his jaw.

"Run."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 3, 2016 21:55:46 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Jan 3, 2016 21:55:46 GMT -5

Meanwhile, Sam, "Sam" and "Dean" hade made their way to the heavy front double doors, pushing against them with all their might. Sam assumed that maybe the actress upstairs was getting through to the boys because the door gave way a little, allowing both "Sam" and "Dean" to slip out. But then the door wouldn't budge another inch, implying that something had gone wrong upstairs. Sam rushed in that direction, reaching the library just in time to see Dean being flung across the room, his poker abandoned on the floor, all three of the three ghost boys approaching him with a knife.

Stooping quickly to grab up the fallen poker, Sam swung it like a golf club into the boys' torsos, dispersing them instantly. Switching the poker to his left hand, he held out his right to grip Dean's hand, helping him up. The older Winchester smiled gratefully. "Thanks." Sam nodded. No sooner had his head bobbed back to center then he was flung backwards through the air with quite a bit of momentum, losing the poker mid-air. Winded, he lay on the ground gasping, as one of the ghost boys knelt on top of him, his knife struggling to reach Sam's forehead. Sam was equally struggling to keep that hand at bay. From across the room came the thud of Dean being flattened as well. "Sam" came Dean's voice, his breathing labored. Sam's arm was starting to shake with the effort of keeping that knife away from his scalp.

"Little busy!"

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The Real Ghostbusters. // Dean // Jan 3, 2016 22:22:30 GMT -5

Quote

Post by NPC on Jan 3, 2016 22:22:30 GMT -5

-- "Chuck" --

Chuck had been trying to keep the audience's interest captured for going on an hour now and he was running out of things to say. He'd long ago stopped standing in the middle of the stage and was now sitting down on its edge instead, swinging one leg. And instead of looking interested or captivated, the audience simply looked bored to tears. "Let's see, what else?" He massaged his temples wearily. He'd exhausted his fill of Sam and Dean things to say about ten minutes ago and was now delving into person life stories. "I fell in love for the first time at 16. Lost my virginity, actually. But then she went around telling everybody it didn't count." He made a face, remembering.

The hotel manager, rolling his eyes, stood and headed for the door, obviously done with what he considered a waste of time. Chuck jumped up in a panic. "Excuse me! You really can't leave. Please sir." Ignoring him, the manager reached out with one hand, gripping the door knob in preparation to twist it. "Don't open that door" Chuck shouted in warning but it was too late. The door scraped open, breaking the salt line. And there, standing on the other side of the door, holding a gleaming knife aloft, was the third of the ghost boys. The manager took a startled step back. The rest of the crowd gasped and leapt to their feet.

Without a salt barrier, the boy began to advance, grinning wickedly. Chuck, without having much time to think or do anything other than react, grabbed up the microphone stand, which just happened to be iron, and rushed the ghost, bringing the stand down over his head just in the knick of time. He vanished in the customary cloud of grey smoke. Everyone was staring, gobsmacked. Even Becky was finally looking at him, with an unmistakable glint of affection that was usually reserved for Sam. But Chuck didn't have time to appreciate this. He was on a mission. "I said nobody leaves damn it" he snapped with authority.

"Now somebody salt this door."

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