Supernatural: Hollywood Babylon
A/N: Happy early New Year! Now I was going to post this tomorrow, but I figured that I best play it safe since tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and I'm going to be doing stuff with my family. So, I'm posting it tonight instead; yup, it's currently after 11:00 pm here in Happy Valley, Utah, and as soon as I get this posted, I'm going to bed.
Read, review, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural or Criminal Minds; I just own the characters that I happen to create.
CHAPTER ONE: GOING HOLLYWOOD
"Come down, and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon, sit on the ground: there is no throne, O daughter of the Chaldeans: for thou shalt no more be called tender and delicate."
Isaiah 47:1
It was night in a forest with a lone cabin in a clearing, where the porch swing was swaying slightly, making the chains creak; a young girl, Wendy, exited the cabin, and was searching the area with a flashlight, clearly scared.
"Mitch? Ashley? You out here?" she called out, but got no response. "Come on, guys! Where are you?" it was then that she heard the leaves rustling behind her and spun around, trying to find the source, terrified. "Hello? Hello?!" Suddenly, she felt a hand on her back; screaming, she turned to see it is her friend, Brody. "Brody!"
"Ashley and Todd - they're dead!" Brody gasped, freaking out. "Wendy, they're dead!"
'Oh God,' Wendy thought and tried to calm her friend down. "Brody, pull it together."
"Pull it together?!" Brody snapped, outraged. "We don't have a chance, okay? We have to get out of here now!"
"No, Brody, we are not leaving," Wendy protested. "We have got to find my sister."
Brody shook his head. "No! No, I am getting out of here right now!" and he ran off in the other direction.
"Brody! Brody, get back here!" Wendy shouted after him. "Brody! God, you son of a bitch!" She then heard new movement behind her and stopped crying; slowly she turned, and she let out a long, loud scream, but quickly began to look annoyed as she took a breath.
And it turned out that the girl was on a movie set; a camera was in her face, with a tennis ball fixed to the top, representing the monster she was supposed to be screaming at. She stopped screaming, looking disgusted, and the director, McG, watched from the sidelines.
"Cut!" he shouted and then grumbled under his breath. "What the hell was that?"
The lights came up on the set, and a props guy took the flashlight from the actress playing Wendy, Tara Benchley, who nodded her thanks; a production assistant, Walter Dixon, handed Tara a Snapple.
"Here you go."
"Thanks, Walter," Tara said gratefully taking the bottle.
McG walked over to Tara, who was shaking up her drink. "It's all good, Tara, that was great," he told her, hiding his frustration. "Let's do it again. Uh, maybe try dialing up that scream, huh?"
Tara sighed, annoyed that she'd goofed on the scream…again. "I know. I know. I'm just…I'm having trouble with the tennis ball."
"Oh, that is just for CG registration," McG explained. "Now, when Ivan and the FX guys are done, it is going to look terrifying. Do you wanna look at the concept sketches again? Will that help?" and an assistant brought over a notebook full of sketches of the monster.
"No, that's okay," Tara said quickly, shuddering slightly at the sketches that'd already given her more than a few nightmares that week alone. "I'll find it, I'll find it."
McG smiled. "I know you will, pumpkin."
"Going again, everybody!" one of the set-workers called out. "Ten-minute reload for camera and sound!"
Tara sat in her chair by Rick, the actor playing Brody; another set worker, Frank, was talking to them and rolling up some cables.
"Oh, man, I'm telling you - working alone behind the sets, or after wrap? I catch this weird vibe sometimes," he told them.
"Oh, like what?" Rick asked.
Frank shrugged. "Like something's watching."
Rick laughed and ate his yogurt. "Come on."
Frank, however, was serious. "Hey, working on a movie like this? Weird crap is bound to happen."
Rick then turned to Tara. "Frank here thinks the stage is haunted," he informed her, grinning. "Like, for real." And she laughed.
Frank shrugged again. "All I'm saying is, they call wrap, I'd get done, and I'd get out of here. Fast." And he walked away.
Both Rick and Tara watched him go. "That guy is definitely off his meds." And they laughed…well, Rick laughed, but Tara was looking a bit nervous.
A while later, Tara was standing in the middle of the "woods", going over her lines, and she was also trying to prepare herself for the loud scream that the director wanted.
"Brody, come back!" she quietly shouted. "You son of a bitch!" and then she tried practicing the scream, but she couldn't quite get it. 'Damn it! Why does the girl always have to scream?' "Brody, come back! You son of a bitch!" Again, she tried screaming, but she still couldn't get it; suddenly, she heard someone on the set nearby.
"Hello?" Tara called out, but there was nothing. "Guys? Come on, it's not funny." Still there was no answer. "Okay, haha, very funny." Again, she heard someone moving around and she started to become nervous. "Hello? Who's there?"
She kept walking among the forest scenery, until she saw a familiar baseball cap fall onto the ground in front of her; she looked up to the scaffolding and saw a male ghost, before it vanished. Then, she noticed that Frank was dead, lying on the walkway while blood covered his face, which was frozen with a look of horror; realizing what she was seeing, she let out a long, bloodcurdling scream.
On the other side of the set, McG and the production crew heard Tara's scream.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" McG said, delighted.
Los Angeles, CA
Warner Bros. Studios…
The Winchesters were taking part in the trolley tour of the studio, passing by movie and television sets.
"First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades."
Excited, Dean turned to a kid next to him, who was eating ice cream. "Hey, you know this is where they filmed Creepshow?" and the kid gave him a strange look.
"Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow," the tour guide announced. "It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls. And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars.
Sam was suddenly uncomfortable, and turned to Dean, who was sitting on a bench behind him and Liz. "Come on."
"Let's finish the tour!" Dean pleaded.
Shaking his head, Sam grabbed Liz's arm, surprising her, and they both hopped off the trolley. "Dean!"
Pouting, Dean hopped off as well, and they continued walking around the lot.
"Sammy, check it out, it's Matt Damon!" he said, pointed.
Sam looked and shook his head while Liz rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not Matt Damon."
"No, it is," Dean insisted.
"Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping," Liz remarked.
"Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something," Dean said, not wanting to admit that he was wrong.
Sam chuckled. "I don't think so." He then noticed a sign. "Hey, this way. I think Stage 9 is over here."
Dean didn't want to go. "Come on, man, let's keep going this way."
"No, come on, we've gotta work," Sam stated and Dean sighed, disappointed. "Dude, you wanted to come to LA."
"Yeah, for a vacation," Dean declared. "I mean, swimming pools and movie stars, not to work."
"This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean?" Liz asked, skeptically since it was currently overcast. "I mean it's practically Canadian."
Dean shrugged. "Yeah. I just figured that after everything that happened with Madison, you could use a little R-and-R, Sam, that's all."
Sam sighed, not wanting to think about what happen a few days ago. "Well, maybe I wanna work, Dean," he retorted. "Maybe it keeps my mind off things."
"Okay, okay," Dean said, relenting. "All right. So, this crew guy - he died on set?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online saying the set's haunted."
"Like Poltergeist?" Dean asked.
"It could be a poltergeist," Sam agreed.
Dean shook his head. "No, no. Like, the movie Poltergeist." And sighed when Sam shrugged while Liz chuckled. "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?" he asked, disappointed. "It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it."
"Yeah, it might be something like that," Sam remarked thoughtfully.
Dean grinned. "All right, so this crew guy - what's his name?"
"Frank Jaffey," Liz answered.
"Frank Jaffey," Dean repeated. "He got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?"
"Well, no," Sam admitted. "But it's LA, you know? It might not even be his real name. But the girl who found him said she saw something - a vanishing figure."
"What's the girl's name?" Dean asked, interested.
"Tara Benchley," Sam answered.
Dean stopped and stared at his siblings, surprised. "Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley?" he repeated. "From FeardotCom and Ghost Ship, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?"
Sam was surprised. "So now, you're suddenly on board?"
Dean nodded, becoming serious. "Oh, I mean, I'm just a fan of her work. She's very good." He then walked away, thrilled, and both Liz and Sam sighed. Here they go again.
On Stage 9, one of the studio execs for the movie, Brad Redding, was talking to McG and the producer, Jay Wiley, and he was giving them a hard time about the movie.
"No, look, don't get me wrong," he said, trying to sound like he really cared, which he didn't. "Everyone at the studio loves the dailies, myself included. We were just wondering if it could be…you know, a little brighter."
"Brighter?" Jay repeated, hoping that this suit didn't mean what he thought he meant.
Brad nodded. "Yeah, Jay. More color. McG, you know what I'm saying, you're the master of that stuff."
McG sighed, not liking where this was heading, especially when it came to the type of movie they were shooting. "Brad, this is a horror movie."
"And who says horror has to be dark?" Brad asked. "It's sort of depressing, don't you think?" He then noticed the Winchesters entering the set. "Uh, excuse me, Green Shirt Guy?" he called out, and Dean pointed to himself. "Yeah, you. Come here." Dean exchanged a confused look with Sam and Liz, and walked over to Brad. "Can you get me a smoothie from Kraft?"
Dean was confused. "You want a what from who?"
Brad scoffed, annoyed. "You are a P.A.? This is what you do?"
Exchanging an alarmed look with Liz, Sam quickly walked over to "save" Dean. "Yeah, yeah…uh, one smoothie coming right up." And they walked away.
"What's a P.A.?" Dean asked.
"I think they're kind of like slaves," Sam guessed and they all gave Brad a thumbs-up.
Brad chuckled and shook his head. "They'll let anybody in this business, huh?" and both McG and Jay smiled weakly, deciding not to tell him that the three strangers weren't part of the crew.
Once they were out of earshot, the Winchesters compared notes of what to do.
"Well, I say that we just got our cover story," Liz remarked and both Dean and Sam agreed since it was a good one as any.
Later, the cast and crew were getting ready to resume shooting; Dean, who'd been walking around with a tray of smoothies for the cast and crew, quickly set it down, and started to go up the stairs to the scaffolding, where the vic, Frank, had died. Suddenly, the lights on set went down, and the actors began their take.
"Why don't we take it from, "Come on, it'll be fun"," McG suggested. "And, action!"
The actors were now standing inside the abandoned house, and "Wendy", played by Tara, had a book open in front of her.
"Come on, it'll be fun," "Wendy" told her friends, and she began reading from the book in very choppy Latin. While she was doing so, Dean made his way up the scaffolding; he took out his EMF meter and scanned the area, but nothing happened. Meanwhile, Tara was doing her best to read the Latin, but she was barely getting through it.
"Maybe we'll finish this up tomorrow," McG suggested.
Tara started laughing, breaking character. "Oh my God, I hate you so much right now."
"Cut!" McG called out as the cast and crew all began laughing, and he rolled his eyes. "Very nice."
A few minutes later, Sam and Liz joined Dean, who was sampling the food, at the Kraft services table.
"So?"
"No EMF anywhere," Dean answered.
Sam sighed, he and Liz hadn't had that much either in finding out anything about Frank, even with his Jedi trick and his empathetic ability. "Great. So, what do you think?"
"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks," Dean declared. "But the food these people get, are you kidding me? Look at these things." He picked up a small sandwich. "They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious." He held one of them out to Sam and Liz, who grimaced.
"Maybe later," Sam said.
Dean shrugged and took a huge bite. "What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?"
"Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day," Liz explained. "Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything."
"Oh, great," Dean grumbled. "So you both found out about as much as I did."
"No, not quite-" Sam began.
Just then, Walter approached. "Hey, guys."
"Oh, hey," Dean responded and watched Walter walk away with a sandwich. "They're wonderful!"
"Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history," Sam continued.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years," Sam confirmed. "Two suicides and two fatal accidents."
"Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit," Dean remarked.
"Yeah," Liz agreed. "We've just gotta narrow it down more."
Dean smiled when he noticed Tara walk onto the set. "I'll get right on that," he said, fixated on her; he walked over to Tara, grabbing a call sheet from one of the set workers, who protested, as he walked by. Nervously, he stepped up to Tara.
"Are you supposed to get one of these?" he asked; she looked up at him and smiled, noticing his good looks. "I don't really know what I'm doing."
"First day?" Tara asked.
Dean nodded with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. My big break." And she laughed. "You know, I know it's really uncool to say this, but I'm a big fan. I loved you in Boogeyman."
"Oh, God, what a terrible script," Tara moaned. "But thank you."
"Yeah," Dean agreed, and then decided on asking the question. "You found him, right? The dead guy?" he asked, and she went quiet and looked away. "I'm sorry, you probably don't even wanna talk about this."
Tara shook her head and looked back at him. "No, no, actually. It's okay," she promised. "Nobody around here really brings it up very much. I think they're all scared I'm gonna have some kind of breakdown."
Dean nodded. "That must have been awful. What happened?"
"It was horrible," Tara agreed. "There was all this blood coming from his eyes and from his mouth. And, uh…I saw this, um…" She then stopped, embarrassed.
"What?" Dean asked.
"I saw this shape," Tara answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't know actually what I saw. I just know I saw it."
Just then, Walter walked up and handed her a Snapple. "Here you go, Tara."
Tara smiled, taking the bottle. "Thanks, Walter." He returned the smile and then walked away.
"So, this crew guy, Frank - did you know him?" Dean asked.
Tara shook her head. "No, not that well."
"It's funny, it's like no one around here actually knew the guy," Dean remarked since it was true.
"I've got his picture," Tara told him.
Dean was surprised. "You do?"
Tara nodded, smiling. "Yeah. I take Polaroids of all the crew. It's just one of those things you do to kill time on set." She then flipped through a binder until she found his picture. "Right there."
Dean looked at it closely and realized something…he knew this guy. "Son of a bitch."
A guy walked to his front door when there was a knock; he opened it to see the Winchesters outside.
"Gerard St. James?" Dean asked.
The man, who looked exactly like Frank, nodded. "Yes."
"You're still alive," Sam commented. "And you're not Frank Jaffey."
Gerard grimaced. "Uh, no."
"You were Desert Soldier Number Four in Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn?" Dean asked.
Gerard nodded. "I was."
Dean grinned. "I knew I recognized you. I am a huge fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in Critters 3?"
Gerard beamed. "Critters 3!"
"Wow. Yeah," Dean agreed.
Gerard gestured to let them in. "Well, please, come in." They entered the house while he brought them coffee; there were pictures lining the walls of Gerard, merely an actor, portraying various characters. "Yeah, it was the producers," he explained. "They brought me up for the day to play Frank."
"Just to fake your death?" Liz asked.
Gerard nodded. "Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie. It's already all over the Internet."
"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We know."
Gerard shrugged. "These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl."
"Who?" Dean asked, confused.
"And the ghost Tara saw?" Sam asked, focusing on the current subject.
"Projected on a screen of diffusion," Gerard responded.
"Isn't that kind of cruel?" Liz asked. "Messing with their heads like that?"
"Hey, I just play the part," Gerard explained. "I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month." And he handed Dean a flyer. "You get a free pepper steak with the coupon."
Dean took the flyer and frowned. "Now, wait a second. If you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?"
Gerard laughed. "Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters."
"You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James," Sam said, standing up and both Dean and Liz followed suit. "It was just nagging at us. But we're very glad…you know, you're alive and well."
"Absolutely," Dean agreed as Gerard shook their hands. "Hey, I wanted to ask you…what was it like working with Richard Moll?" and then he explained to a confused Sam and Liz. "Metalstorm. He was Hurok, King of the Cyclops people."
Gerard shrugged. "Gentlemen's gentleman."
Dean was surprised. "Yeah?" he then chuckled, brandishing the theatre coupon. "All right. Pepper steak."
The actors, playing "Mitch" and "Kendra", were filming in the abandoned house.
"When we read from that book, we must have brought them back," "Mitch" said, pacing. "Back from hell."
While "Kendra" delivered her line, Dave, the sound guy, received a staticky feedback through his headphones, distorting the dialogue.
"It doesn't matter," "Mitch" continued. "We're not going anywhere until we find Wendy and her sister. Got it? Good. Now let's get busy."
"Cut!" McG called out. "Very nice."
"No good for sound," Dave announced. "I'm getting some kind of feedback." And the cast and crew sighed, disappointed.
"Another costly sound delay," one of the set workers complained. "All right, we're going again for sound, people!"
"Thank you!" said Dave.
On another area of the set, Brad was talking with McG and the writer, Marty.
"No, no, look," he said to the writer, who was annoyed. "It's a great scene, really, dynamite. But I've still got a few…not problems, just questions."
"Like what?" McG asked, annoyed.
"Well, for one thing, the rules aren't really landing for me," Brad explained. "Like, the kids do this Latin chant, and that makes the ghosts show up?"
McG nodded. "Yeah."
"See, but if the ghosts are in hell, how do they hear the chanting?" Brad asked. "I mean, what do they have, super-hearing? It's a logic bump. The rules don't track."
McG sighed, hating this studio suit right now. "Marty, you're the writer."
Marty sighed. "What if I throw in an explainer?"
Brad beamed. "Yeah, that'd be super. Excuse me, I've gotta check some messages." And he left, focused on his Bluetooth.
"Suits," McG grumbled.
Meanwhile, Brad wandered off to another area of set, alone; while looking at his Blackberry, he noticed a woman behind him. She was in ghostly white make-up from head to toe, dressed in a robe; she was wearing dark lipstick and had black marks on her neck, clearly formed by ropes. She didn't say anything, but smirked at him.
"Has McG seen this?" Brad asked, assuming that she was a member of the cast. "I like the whole body paint, black-and-white thing. But gee, I don't think those neck wounds are really gonna read on camera." And he looked closely at them. "They need to be red. You know what I'm saying?" he then called to the other end of the set. "Hey, Jay? I need to speak to make-up right away."
The woman moved closer and tapped him on the shoulder; he turned back around to face her. "Yeah?"
The woman, still silent, took off her robe in front of him, revealing that she was completely naked; Brad watched as she turned and walked up the stairs to the scaffolding.
He smirked. "Be right up."
A few minutes later, the actors had resumed filming.
"When we read from that book, we must have brought them back," "Mitch" said, pacing. "Back from hell."
"But I don't understand," "Kendra" said, scared. "If they were in hell, how could they hear our chanting?"
"Mitch" shrugged. "They must have super-hearing!"
Suddenly, the ceiling of the abandoned house caved in, and Brad fell through, hanging from a noose; the actors screamed and ran off set. Brad's Bluetooth fell to the floor as he hung there, dead.
A/N: I now leave you with an evil cliffy! MWAHAHAHAHAHA! R&R everyone!