A/N: This story idea had been in my head for a great while. I had always loved the movie that inspired this and a week ago I believe it was, a great friend of mine, catbeist, encouraged me to go with this idea. We began to brainstorm, to plot, to outline and this is the end result...I love ya Kat!!...You are the light at the end of my Plot Bunny tunnel. I never would have gotten anywhere with this mess without you, and you know that. Thanx a million!!
For those of you who have never seen 'Waxwork', the movie this is based on, that is okay...I did enough of an explanation to cover any loose ends. One little minor SPN final episode spoiler, but I think we are all past that now...(if not, sorry for the assumption)
Synopsis: In Santa Carla, California (yes that Santa Carla...for those of us that pay attention to our movie trivia...) A Wax Museum has popped up out of nowhere. Dean knows nothing of this, or its history, and drags Sam there on vacation. Once inside, Sam is the first to notice how odd the place is. No one else is around, and the men that work there are odd to say the least. The owner is even stranger. (if you have seen the film, I have added to his character. It is also twenty years since the end of the original film...) Things begin to go haywire, and Sam and Dean are thrust into a waking nightmare that does not seem to ever end.
Disclaimer: The movie belongs to Anthony Hickox. (I liked the movies, so I will say great work dude!!) Supernatural belongs to Eric Kripke. (also great work man!!)
Dean looked down at a small flier that read 'Welcome to the Waxworks' and grinned. The small town of Santa Carla, California had seen its share of daemons and hellfire. Now there was a strange wax museum that seemed to have manifested itself overnight. Of course none of this seemed to bother Dean in the slightest. He seemed to be unaware of the fact that this place was just as off as everything else they ever dealt with.
"Dean what the hell are we doing here? I thought we were gonna take a few days off?"
Sam stared up at the large stone castle. It seemed to stand out, not just because it was the largest and oldest building on the block, but because there was a presence about it Sam could not put his finger on. He did not like it.
"Sam...this is time off!" Dean folded the paper up and stuck in his back pocket. Ever since he had seen Madame Tussaud's on Ripley's Believe It or Not as a child, he had wanted to visit a place like this. According to the flier, all the horror greats had been immortalized in wax and put on display, for free. There was no way Dean was going to pass that up.
"No Dean... this is what we hunt, only in wax" Sam argued. Sure he could use the vacation, there was no denying it. Yet a creepy house of wax with horror figures from every era turned his stomach. It was one thing to fight them, but to see them staring back at him unmoving, was oddly unnerving.
"Pffft...No it's not. This is... " Dean looked up and around the entrance of the ginormous building. "This is awesome!" He touched the stone and a slight charge, almost like static electricity, leapt from the building. Dean pulled back a bit, but merely shook it off.
"Besides, you drug me to the Met and that freaking arch in St. Louis. It's my turn!!" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but his brother had yanked on the bell pull before a word could slip past. The door creaked open, yet neither of them saw anything that could have opened it.
"Um, maybe it's electronic. Could explain the shock I got a second ago." Dean shrugged. Sam only stared into the foyer, not sure if it was safe to enter. His feelings were increasing by the second. As they entered the spacious front hall, the door slammed behind them, causing both to jump. Dean chuckled, while Sam only shook his head. Yet another reason for his suspicions to be proven right. To their left was a smaller room with a sign in the doorway. It pointed them in the right direction, so Dean led the way, and Sam reluctantly followed.
In the anteroom sat a large white couch, and a glass coffee table. Sitting on the latter was a bottle of whisky and two glasses. Dean looked at this for a second, wondering how they knew of their coming, but took the invitation anyways. A large oak door was directly across from them. Dean downed his glass, handing the other to Sam. He ignored his brother, surveying their sparse surroundings. A bookshelf was inset into one wall and was filled with strange books. Many of the titles were in foreign languages even a brainiac like Sam could not translate. As he reached for one that looked like it might be interesting, a sound made him turn around. The oak door had opened on it's own just as the front door had.
"So, now the festivities begin." Dean downed the second glass of whisky then set it down on the table. Sam glared at him, but said nothing. Both boys stepped in and just on the other side of the door was a three foot tall butler and his giant companion.
"Greetings my friends, I am Hans." The butler announced.
The place looked almost dead though a creepy feeling suddenly escaped Dean. Then when he noticed the small butler, a smile crossed his lips.
"Hey kid," Dean knelt down in front of Hans. He looked at Dean with an eyebrow raised.
"Dontcha think it's a bit past your bedtime? Huh?" Dean started to laugh when the larger man, taller than his own brother, stepped in front of Hans and uttered a low growl. Dean stood, then backed up.
"Okay, easy there Tiny, just having a little fun at Tom Thumb's expense." The man bared his teeth but stopped when an older man stepped from the shadows. Sam watched as he moved next to the taller man with ease, patting him on the head like a dog.
"Calm now Junior. This boy does not know his place. Maybe his manners need readjusting." A thick English accent cut through the emptiness of the enormous room. Dean pulled back, officially freaked out. The Englishman said something to the others and they both nodded. Junior lumbered off, whilst Hans spun around, his hair swishing noisily behind him, his heels clacking together.
The man, his name was David Lincoln, waved an arm motioning for the boys to continue into the large gallery. There were hundreds of scenes from many a horror film, story, and some that looked as if they had been dreamt up on the spot. Sam stared at one of the latter. It was a half man, half snake, and he was instantly repulsed. Dean nudged him, a grin back on his face.
"Cool huh? Talk about lifelike man. I swear that thing is gonna jump the rope and attack us." Dean touched the bright red rope and watched the creature's midnight eyes. He jumped when the curator slapped him on the back with a forceful gesture. Dean almost fell forward and thanked God for the barrier in front of him.
"Be careful there young man. Some things you know nothing about can be your worst enemy!" He smiled then moved off ahead of them. Dean's smile vanished. What was it with the help around here? Straight out of a horror film themselves.
Sam left his brother's side and edged his way past a scene of Marie Antoinette. The woman's face was painted just as it would have been in every picture Sammy had seen of her. Cherry red lips, a small mole on her cheek, and pasty white skin. Her large colourful dress was held up at the sides by two dainty hands. Atop her head was a large off-white bouffant hairdo. Sam thought it odd that a beautiful woman such as she would be stuffed amongst all these monstrosities.
"Excuse me sir..." Sam pointed at the figure, never taking his eyes off her. Mr Lincoln turned, his hands linked behind his back.
"Please call me David." He moved toward Sam, almost floating. Sam shivered but tried to keep his cool. They were just here to look and then they would never see this bunch again. Or so he hoped.
"David, of all the other items you have on display here, why do you have Marie Antoinette?" Sam finally looked away from her. David lightly thumbed the velvet rope barring their ingress. He looked at the statue a while, then back at Sam.
"You see my boy. Sometimes every place needs a touch of beauty. Without it, the world would fall apart in our very hands." He smiled slowly then touched the figure on the cheek. Sam now wished he had stayed outside, letting his brother explore this place. Dean looked back at the two of them and suddenly noticed they were the only ones in the entire area.
"Why isn't there anyone else here?
Sam looked around. The place was completely dead. He had been so busy worrying about other things that he had never even noticed that little inconvenience. There wasn't a sound other than their own voices.
"No, no..." David looked around, acting suspiciously, though Sam was not sure if this was just extreme over-acting or not
"There are others here...only they are spread around. One must experience on their own to get a real feel for the art." David waved his arms around, emphasizing his point. Sam now knew things were queer about this place, that this guy was one fry short a value meal. Save for their Impala and a hearse that had been parked alongside the building, no other patrons could possibly be inside, unless of course they had walked in.
"I think maybe my brother and I have seen just about enough. We really need to be going, so if you don't mind..." Sam stepped away from David then called for his brother, who was no longer next to him. Dean had somehow wandered off, leaving Sam all by himself. Once again.
"It seems as if your brother has other plans young sir. Please. Stay awhile until he reappears then by all means, go." David left the same way he came: Passing through shadows. Sam watched him leave, feeling an eery sense of dread. Now with his older brother gone, Sam was completely alone. He wanted to go home, yet now he had no choice but to stick around. Sighing, Sam walked past the other exhibits, merely glancing at them as he did.
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Dean had moved on to a different display, this time Jack the Ripper. The cape clad murderer towered over a defenseless prostitute. Her hands were up in a terrified pose. The back of her right hand was pressed against her mouth, whilst the other was out in front of her. Jack's right hand gripped that wrist and in his left hand held a knife. A devilish sneer was drawn on his vial face. The face itself was nondescript. It could be anyone and no one at the same time. Just as the legend suggested.
Dean read the placard beside the display. "Jack claims first victim. Mary Ann Nichols, August 31, 1888." Dean touched the raised lettering, then stared into the woman's horrified eyes.
They seemed so real, so tragic. It was almost as if Dean could truly feel her pain, her agony. His stare lingered a moment longer then he turned away. Slipping his flask from his jacket, he took a hearty swig. This place was better than anything he had seen in the movies and why Sammy had to be a wet rag was beyond him. Dean began to place the flask back in his pocket, when it slipped from his grasp, and bounced into the display.
"Yeah, of course, why not?" Dean threw his hands up and huffed. He got down on his knees, looking to make sure no one saw what he was doing, then reached for the silver object. His fingers just tapped it, but it was too far away for him to get it that way, so he had no choice but to cross the rope to get it. Dean knew he could get in serious trouble for this, but he needed that damned thing. It belonged to Pastor Jim and Dean knew that his father would have had no qualms about trespassing where he wasn't supposed to. Taking one last look, Dean unhooked the rope, stepped into the display, disappearing in a flash of dim light, followed by a low zap.