A/N: just a gimmick I came up with when I couldn't find one of those inflatable gorillas. 7 sins, 7 chapters, oh…it will be DEADLY.

Pride

"The intelligent man who is proud of his intelligence is like the condemned man who is proud of his large cell."

Simone Weil

"Shut up, no one thinks you're that important"

-My Sister

John was meticulous, he had planned everything. It was going to be easy too, a perfect way to initiate his youngest son into the world of hunting. The dark, heroic, and seriously screwed world that lurked as a small subculture without the knowledge of society. The Secret Police, that's what Dean had told Sammy…and today the kid got his badge, and possibly a TCBY when they were finished.

They pulled up to the rusted out garage at about 7:30 pm, it was dark, just dark enough that if Sammy wasn't a good three inches shorter he wouldn't be able to tell the eleven year old from his teenage brother. Dean was practically bubbling over with excitement, he had been giving his kid brother "tips" all day long about how to, quote, "bust ass" unquote, and Sammy was wide-eyed and slightly confused about just what was going on. John kept reminding his eldest that it was just a routine poltergeist, nothing to get all worked up about, and Dean nodded, his grin dissipating but the sparkle remaining in his eyes as he whispered tidbits of various stories about how he had vanquished dozens of ghosts just like this, and how all Sammy had to do was stay out of his way.

"You ready Sammy?" Dean whispered through the stale air to his little brother who was putting up a very brave front.

"I think so" Sam replied and Dean snorted setting the walking pace at a trot. They reached the door to the old body shop and John turned on his sons giving orders.

"Alright, we get in, perform the ritual, and get out, understand?" He said staring his oldest squarely in the eye, the subliminal message was clear, no fucking around. Dean nodded and Sam turned white, standing out as a sharp contrast to the deep navy night that enveloped them and their mark. "Good. Dean, Sammy is your responsibility; nothing is to happen to him tonight." Dean smirked,

"Yes, Sir" he said practically pawing at the chance to get inside and show his kid brother just what he could do.

"Sammy, you got your gun?" Sam nodded cocking the rifle filled with rock salt and held it with a superior steady hand. "Good. Shoot if it comes near you." John said more then a little worry lacing his voice.

"Yes, Sir" Sam echoed and John smiled ruffling the boys hair,

"Alright boys, your job is to keep this thing as far away from me as possible while I carry out the ritual. Once it gets wind of what we're doing it's going to get pretty pissed off, so stand your ground and don't be scared." Dean almost laughed but seeing as his brother looked like he was going to make an unpleasant art display of his dinner he bit his tongue.

The door creaked open in the way that only haunted doors do and all three of the Winchesters stepped in. Almost immediately a tin can was flung at Dean's head, and hit him on the jaw.

"Oww, son of a bitch" he growled,

"Dean" John hissed, managing a feeble reprimand as his eldest shrugged his apology. Sam would have been shaking if he wasn't paralyzed, but Dean's rough hand on his shoulder urged him foreword and he found a pocket of bravery in his gut that allowed him to continue. John nodded to Dean as various nails and screws flew through the air at the men, this ghoul didn't pussy foot around. Dean crouched down and whispered in Sam's ear,

"Now Sammy, I know you are a little scared, so all you have to do is stand there with your gun and I'll take care of things" he said and Sam didn't have to be asked twice. Dean proceeded to mock the poltergeist in every way that he knew how, from stipulating about where the ghost's mother had been last night….doing what…with whom, to guessing the spirit's parents' marital state at the time of his birth. Dean dodged the wrenches and nails that were being thrown at him furiously like a game of dodge ball all the while making comments that garnered more then a few disapproving glares from his father. Eventually, the third corner of the shop was finished and the poltergeist stopped throwing things at Dean, it seemed to have given up on silencing its assaulter.

"Is that it? Is that all you've got?" Dean asked pretty sure that he was the best smack-talking ghost hunter this side of godknowswhere. Sam wasn't about to burst his bubble, even if it meant alerting him to the fact that an old oil drum full of some bile inducing substance was floating just above his head.

"Uh, Dean" Sam ventured,

"What Sammy?" Dean asked,

"I think that the poltergeist may have..." but Dean cut him off,

"May have what? Run away? Had it's feelings hurt?" . John finished the fourth corner at around that time and as expected the poltergeist let out a ghostly wail and was exterminated by way of large gushing wind whipping around the small enclosure. Dean laughed as it was finished but it was the poltergeist that got the last lsugh…so to speak. The oil drum that had been perched above Dean's head like the sword of Damocles turned over and covered the young hunter in contents too god awful to describe.

Sam fought very hard to keep a straight face as he put away his gun and watched as Dean tried to towel himself off and not throw up, at the same time.

"It's not funny" Dean hissed as they sat in the truck. Pale circles of exposed skin encircled his eyes as the rest of him was encrusted in some sort of brown substance that was drying fast. Dean ended up looking like mud-wrestling raccoon, which had just lost. In response Sammy burst out laughing, tears coming to his eyes and his sides aching from the effort. John refused to look at Dean, afraid that he would start laughing as well. All he could manage was a tight,

"No it's not" before letting out a chuckle of his own as he started the engine. Dean shot his father a glare who tried to cover up his laughter with a very fake sounding cough as they drove off. Needless to say the pretty blonde girl behind the TCBY counter was more then a little perplexed at Dean's condition. She took their orders and Dean, who was still sulking, tried to stomp off to one of the little tables. The girl called out after him with a slight bit of laughter in her voice.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to sit outside" she said, and Dean's jaw almost hit the ground as Sam broke out into another fit of laughter.

"I guess they don't allow raccoons in" Sam choked out in between gasps for air, "huh, Dean? Haha, listen I'm very sorry about my brother…I kept telling him to take a shower but…" Sam's voice trailed off as he was racked with a fit of giggles. The three Winchesters squashed onto a broken down bench outside of the TCBY toasting Sammy's first successful hunt. Sam was practically crying he was laughing so hard, and John couldn't help but join in the laughter too. Dean on the other hand just crossed his arms and sunk down low in his seat.

"It's not funny."