Author's Note:
And the hunt is on.
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The three of them got out of the car and began to creep towards the abandoned buildings, tying to stay out of sight. Looking at them, Reggie thought that in their hay day, they would have been lucky to be called dilapidated, now, they were practically disintegrating. Paint peeled, and graying wood rotted. Roofs were collapsed and in some places, the whole building had just given up, keeled over in its entirety, and died.
"Get down" hissed Sam from his position slightly ahead of her. Dean was slightly behind.
The three ducked in the over grown grass, as a small group of blue-robed people with purple stars drawn on their foreheads, passed nearby. Muttering, Reggie got to her feet, and promptly tripped over the tail ends of one of Sam's enormous shirts. She had been forced to wear it because of the shot gun. The oversized folds were an excellent place to conceal the weapon, and she couldn't very well go "waltzing around with it in plain view now could she", as she'd pointed out to Dean in a last ditch effort to get rid of the gun. Even though it was only loaded with salt, holding it was making her edgy.
Grumbling she scooped up the shirt tails and eyed them with irritation, as if they were deliberately trying to trip her up.
"Reggie" called Dean softly,
"Get moving."
Sighing, she tied the ends of the shirt in a knot, readjusted the shotgun where it lay, muzzle down, along her side, and scooted over to where the Winchesters were waiting.
After several more moments of covert manoeuvring, they found themselves amid the little ghost town.
That's probably a little too accurate. Reggie thought to herself, looking around at the yawning, black doorways.
"Now what?" she asked quietly.
"Now" said Sam,
"We investigate. Just don't wander off, okay."
Dean was pulling out the EMF meter.
Reggie huffed out her breath, they were so overprotective. It wasn't as though she didn't understand the gravity or the risks of the situation. And besides, she had absolutely no desire to venture into one of ominous looking cots alone. Even if she hadn't had a better idea than most, of what might be waiting for her inside. Dean was walking away from them, moving from hut to hut, scanning with the EMF for signs of activity.
Reggie followed Sam around the corner of one of the small constructions, watching with interest as he scanned the ground. Stooping suddenly, he yanked out his knife. There was a thick, gooey residue on the bare earth. It was a grey-black clump of viscous matter, and when Sam poked at it, Reggie's stomach gave a little lurch. But she forced herself to walk over anyway.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Ectoplasm", said Sam, his brow was furrowed in worry.
"You only find it around really angry ghosts." Really angry and really dangerous ghosts, he thought. Where the hell was Dean? Sam stood up.
"C'mon" he said to Reggie, and the two headed back the way they had come. Sam walked round the corner out of sight and Reggie hurried to follow, she hadn't liked the tone of his voice at all, or the fission of fear she'd picked up on. Just as she was passing the doorway, and Sam came into her view, she paused. An older man, with grey streaks in his brown hair and an enormous, battered suitcase, had appeared from nowhere and was advancing on the young hunter. Before she could decide what to do, a hand reached out of the darkness of the hut and grabbed her by the collar of Sam's shirt, jerking her into the blackness.
Reggie opened her mouth to scream, but Dean's hand clamped over her face, as he came into her range of vision. He looked positively petrified.
"Shhhhhh" he hissed. Releasing her, he crept to the door and looked out. The elderly man had laid his suitcase on the ground and was bowing elaborately to Sam, holding out what looked like a toaster crossed with a leaf blower.
"What's going on? Who is that?"
"That" said Dean with a sigh of relief, as he ascertained they'd made good their escape,
"Is Dordle. He sells vacuums, on Mars."
Reggie goggled at him.
"On Mars?" she repeated with disbelief.
"Yeah, but he thinks they're really gonna take off here. After Armageddon of course. There's nothing like them for dealing with the post-apocalyptic clean-up."
Reggie giggled, and Dean grunted,
"I'm serious, that's his tag line."
"And when is Armageddon scheduled?" she asked.
"Oh not for another four million years or so" he looked at her,
"He's hoping to corner the advance market" he said, deadpan.
Reggie slapped a hand over her mouth and peeked around the doorway at Sam. He was trying desperately to disentangle himself from Dordle, but the little man was having none of it. He had a vice-like grip on Sam's arm and was insisting on showing him the "new and improved Super Nova Sucker 2000, great for space dust and antimatter."
Sorry Sammy, thought Dean, and, grabbing Reggie, darted out of the little cabin, sacrificing his brother on the alter of psychotic interstellar entrepaneurship, and hoping that he would have enough time to check out the remaining shacks without interference. Besides, if he had to listen to Dordle's pitch on the Sucker again, he'd shoot him, or possibly himself.
"What, we're just going to leave Sam?" demanded Reggie, as Dean dragged her out of the hut.
"He'll be fine. Believe me, he's dealt with things a lot weirder" he paused,
"well, he 's dealt with things a lot more dangerous, than Dordle."
"If Dordle's so harmless, why are we running away?" she asked pointedly.
Dean chose to ignore that.
"C'mon. Let's just try to finish sweeping these buildings before something else happens."
"Oh" said Reggie,
"I think I should tell you that Sam found something called ectoplasm over there", she waved her hand towards the general vicinity of the goo.
Dean's eyes narrowed,
"Fan-fucking-tastic" he growled.
"You stay close to me" he ordered.
Reggie nodded. If it could make Sam and Dean this nervous, his agitated worry was singing along her nerves, then it was worth being afraid of.
She followed Dean into another of the little huts, and waited just inside the doorway, as he swept the EMF around the small room.
Reggie looked around nervously. She felt cold. Like there was a draft. She raised her eyes to the ceiling above her. It looked sort of like silvery fog.
Suddenly, Reggie felt the coldness inside her. Oh dear, she thought as blackness closed around her, Dean is going to be so mad. I forgot to shoot it.
Dean frowned as the EMF suddenly began to go haywire in his hand. He spun around to check on Reggie, just in time to see the silvery spirit wrap itself around her, and disappear. She fell, lifeless to the floor.
"Reggie!" he cried, running and dropping to her side. He breathed a sigh of relief when she opened her eyes, and then he realized that what was looking at him, wasn't Reggie.