A/N: This time, I just genuinely didn't have the chapter written. But now I do! *beam*
Title: One and Another
Author: liketolaugh
Rating: T
Pairings: None
Genre: Drama/Mystery
Warnings: None
Summary: Dean stumbles across a strange child playing poker in a place where he does not belong. Shortly thereafter, the two of them walking together run across something even Dean's never seen before. Things only escalate from there. Stanford Era!Dean and Pre-series!Allen.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Supernatural is not mine. Neither is D. Gray-man.
When the body had finished burning, they filled the grave back in, shovelful by shovelful, dark brown dirt cascading onto the broken, burnt-out wreck formerly known as a coffin. Allen thought that the freshly turned dirt looked too obvious, and wanted to scatter some of the fallen leaves over it. Dean assured him that that would be a complete waste of time.
Allen did it anyway.
Dean waited impatiently by his Impala while he did, and, when Allen finally emerged, face slightly smudged and a hint of leaf litter tangled in white hair, he gestured for the kid to brush his (now dirty) hands off before he climbed in.
"Now," Dean informed him, starting to drive again, "we check the house." He tossed back his EMF detector. "Turn that on."
Allen did.
"That's an EMF detector," Dean explained. "Picks up electromagnetic frequencies. If there's a ghost there, that'll tell us, even if it doesn't show itself."
"Where did you learn that?" Allen questioned, turning the EMF detector over in his hands, not looking up to Dean as he did.
"Bobby taught Dad, Dad taught me," Dean answered, before catching himself and huffing. How did the kid do that?
"Who's Bobby?"
Now, to give in, or not to give in?
Eh. He was a hunter. His life had turned to insanity when he was four years old and his mom spontaneously combusted whilst pinned to the ceiling. "Bobby Singer. He's a family friend, great researcher. Has the best damn collection of supernatural texts I've ever seen, and knows how to use them."
"Are you close to him?" Allen looked up from the EMF device, silver eyes glinting as he caught Dean's hazel in the mirror.
Dean paused.
"He's a friend of the family," he repeated.
Allen smiled and fell silent, turning his head to look out the window instead, 'hm'ing to himself amiably.
Dean parked just in front of the house and got out, one step away from muttering to himself, frowning at nothing. Allen followed, holding the detector half in front of him, looking around curiously. Never mind that he was about to enter a haunted house, he just wanted to know what it looked like.
The kid was a freak. Dean liked it.
"Got the gun?" Dean checked, reaching one hand up to make sure his own was still present. He couldn't see the kid's gun, but then, he hadn't been able to see where Allen had put it, either.
Sure enough, Allen nodded.
They entered the house, walking down first one hall, then another, and then into a room. The EMF detector remained silent, and they didn't hear so much as a creak anywhere in the house, eerily silent. Dean then made the mistake of beginning to relax; Dean fullheartedly believed that this had jinxed them.
They entered another room, and the EMF started to whine softly. Dean's hazel eyes shot to it, widening slightly, and then it began to pick up rapidly, soft whine going high and piercing. "Out!" he snapped, head jerking to glare at Allen fiercely.
Allen turned and darted back out without hesitation. Dean ran after him, keeping one eye out for the ghost, hand wandering toward his shotgun.
The temperature dropped and he was there.
He.
The ghost was male.
Allen froze – so he did have a limit – but Dean didn't hesitate, gun out and up in a second.
The ghost snarled animalistically and streaked toward Allen, hands outstretched. Allen took a step back, silver eyes wide. A strangled cry ripped from his mouth, Dean fired, and the ghost vanished.
"C'mon, kid," Dean snapped, all business, grabbing Allen by the wrist and dragging him forward, toward the still-haunted house's exit. Allen kept up easily, looking over his shoulder, uneasy grey eyes sweeping through the hall.
The ghost flashed into existence again and zoomed for Dean. Dean bit out another curse and ducked away, inadvertantly releasing Allen's arm. The ghost flew for him again and Dean brought up his gun, but a gesture from the ghost sent him and the weapon flying in two different directions. Dean ended up slammed into a corner, nowhere to go.
"Mister Dean!"
Allen, silver eyes wide, shadowy in the dark house, drew the borrowed gun without hesitation, took less than a second to aim, and fired at the ghost, which dissipated into the air.
Dean was up again within a few moments, panting, one hand pressing to his ribs with a wince. At least one of them was bruised, fractured if he was unlucky. "Nice shot, kid. Now out!"
They didn't have far to go before they reached the door, and Dean yanked it open, shoving Allen through before pushing out himself. They dove into the Impala and, somewhere in the house, the ghost screamed.
"Not so dead, then," Dean muttered, hastily starting his car and taking off again.
Allen stared at him with wide eyes, panting slightly.
Dean turned around and grinned mirthlessly at Allen. "Looks like we've still got work to do."
Eh. Kind of short. But. Not finished yet! There are things still to come! *cackle* Please review!