"God dammit! I hate this House on Haunted Hill crap!" Dean cursed, giving one last hard shove at the heavy wood doors, which didn't budge an inch.
"Well maybe this wouldn't be happening if you had just listened to me and not touched anything," Sam growled, reloading his shotgun with rock salt rounds hurriedly, and Dean sneered.
"Well good for you, Sammy, must be such a fucking pleasure to be right 24/7."
"Just shut up and help me find the dress," Sam snapped, stalking away from the door with the gun raised and Dean followed, huffing angrily as he started tearing through the dresser, upending drawers of musty old clothes that made him cough.
A scream pierced the air shrilly, and Dean cringed as the decibel felt like it was ringing through his whole skull painfully.
"Shut up, bitch!" Dean bellowed, turning around with his own shotgun raised, dying for her to come after him, "Just get over it already!"
"Keep looking Dean!" Sam shouted above the noise, ripping through the closet, but he didn't seem to be having any luck either.
Where the fuck could that damn dress be?!
Suddenly Dean found himself flat on his back, pinned down like a fucking butterfly in one of those creepy display cases and he grunted, trying to free himself.
The ghost girl suddenly materialized above him, bloodied wedding dress and ravaged eyes red with fury.
"Sam!" Dean shouted, struggling as the volume of her scream intensified and her claws shot toward his face.
The shotgun blast tore through her, scattering her like roaches under a flashlight beam and Dean sighed with relief as the screaming cut off as well.
"You ok?" Sam said loudly, clearly his ears were ringing as bad as Dean's, and Dean grunted affirmation, rolling onto his side to get up.
Which is when he happened to notice the box under the bed.
"Gotcha," Dean grunted, wiggling under the bed to grab the box and pull it out.
The screaming started even louder than before, and Dean had to fight the urge to clap his hands over his ears as Sam hurried over, sliding the bag off his shoulder and rushing for the salt and lighter fluid.
"I'll cover you!" Dean shouted over the screaming as loud as he could, and Sam nodded, brows furrowed in pain as he dug in the bag.
Dean stood up with his shotgun raised, tense and waiting for the next attack.
Sam got so far as starting to dump the lighter fluid on the dress before she reappeared, right next to Sam, trying to rip the box out of his hands.
Dean blasted her with a round and Sam clicked the lighter, finally torching the damn thing and putting a stop to the Shrieking Bride once and for all.
"Goddamn," Dean said loudly, lowering the shotgun, "I think I'm deaf."
"No, you're just an idiot," Sam retorted in a half-shout, packing up the salt and lighter fluid, "Can you go one case without pissing off the ghost?"
"Ah come on, Sammy, it wouldn't be half as fun!"