December 9th - December 10th, 2009
We drove all night to The Pineview Hotel because Sam got a text from Chuck saying he needed us, and it was a life or death situation. As soon as we parked, we jumped out, but as we did, Dean and I immediately stopped and looked at each other. In front of the hotel was a line of black Impalas, just like baby.
Sam stopped running and looked back at us. "Hey! Come on."
Dean and I gave each other one last look and then chased after Sam. Around the corner, we found Chuck pacing in front of a set of stairs leading up into the hotel.
"Chuck!" Sam yelled as we reached him. "There you are."
Chuck jumped, looking totally surprised. "Guys?"
"What's going on?" Dean asked.
Chuck furrowed his brow. "Uh, nothing. You know, I'm just kinda hangin'. What are you guys doing here?"
"You told us to come," Dean said.
Chuck shook his head. "Uh, no, I didn't."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, you did, you texted me. This address. Life or death situation."
I shook my head. "Any of this ringing a bell?"
Chuck shook his head. "I didn't send you a text."
"We drove all night!" Dean shouted.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand what could—" Chuck's eyes widened. "Oh, no."
"What?" Dean asked.
Suddenly, we heard squealing, and at the top of the stairs stood Becky. "Sam! You made it!"
"Oh, uh, Becky, right?" Sam asked.
Becky ran down the stairs to stand right in front of Sam. "Oh, you remembered." She lowered her voice, "You been thinking about me."
Sam raised his eyebrows. "I—"
Becky smiled. "It's okay. I can't get you out of my head either."
"Becky, did you take my phone?" Chuck asked.
Becky looked at him over her shoulder. "I just borrowed it..." She shrugged. "From your pants."
Chuck sighed. "Becky—"
"What? They're going to want to see it!" she yelled, looking back at us with excitement all over her face.
"See what?" the three of us asked in unison.
"Oh my god. I love it when they talk at the same time!" Becky yelled with a huge smile on her face.
A man walked out onto the porch. "Hey, Chuck? Come on, pal, it's showtime."
Becky ran upstairs and disappeared into the hotel.
Chuck turned to us and looked ashamed. "Guys. I'm sorry. For everything." Then he turned and walked up the stairs too.
The three of us looked at each other confused, and then walked up the stairs as well. When we walked in, the hotel looked like it was bustling about like it would on any normal day.
A bigger man, dressed similarly to Dean, walked by with a stein of beer and pointed at Dean with a laugh. "Hey, Dean, looking good."
"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked.
The man turned back to him, and I realized he was wearing a necklace that looked exactly like Dean's. "I'm Dean too. Duh." Then he continued walking away.
Then a man dressed like the Vanir scarecrow walked out of a side room. "Uh, oh. It's the Winchester's. I'm in trouble now." He laughed. "Have fun, you three. Ah!" He jiggled a plastic scythe in Sam's face and then walked away.
Becky giggled happily.
"What...?" Dean asked.
"The...?" Sam asked.
"Fu—" I asked, but Dean put his hand over my mouth.
We turned and realized most of the people in the room were dressed similarly to us. Others were dressed like many monsters we had faced in the past, including Bloody Mary and a clown. There were also people with black contacts in.
Honestly, if this whole thing wasn't so strange, I would've thought the hotel was swarming with demons.
There were also men and women dressed like Bobby. A random guy dressed like Ash. Most of the people in the room were dressed like us, though. Some of the people dressed like Sam had on brunette shoulder-length wigs. People dressed like me, including full-grown men, were wearing long curly brunette wigs. Most of the people dressed like Dean were wearing brown leather jackets with their collars popped. There was a merchandise table with the Impala on coffee mugs, devil's traps printed on pillows, and Chuck's Supernatural books.
"Becky. what is this?" Sam asked.
"It's awesome!" Becky shouted. "A Supernatural convention! The first ever!"
The three of us continued to look around the hotel in complete and utter confusion as Becky stood there with pure joy on her face.
Becky led us into a small auditorium where everyone started to pile in and take a seat in front of a stage, while we stood in the back.
A man walked onto the stage and stepped in front of a microphone. "Welcome to the first annual Supernatural convention. At 3:45 in the Magnolia room, we have the panel, 'Frightened little boy, the secret life of Dean.' And at 4:30 there's the 'Homoerotic subtext of Supernatural.'"
The three of us frowned at each other and then continued listening.
"Oh, and of course, the big hunt starts at 7PM sharp," the man said.
Clapping and cheering erupted from the audience.
The man smiled and nodded. "But right now, right now, I'd like to introduce the man himself. The creator, the writer of the Supernatural books. The one, the only, Carver Edlund!"
There was a huge eruption of clapping, including Becky, when Chuck took the stage.
Chuck tapped on the mic. "Okay. Okay, good, this isn't nearly as awkward as I—" He cleared his throat. "Dry mouth." He picked up a water bottle off of a small table next to him and drank almost the whole thing. "Okay. Uh... ahem. So, I guess... questions?"
Every hand in the room went up.
Chuck looked startled, and then he pointed out into the crowd. "Uh... you?"
A man dressed like Sam jumped up. "Hey, Mr. Edlund. Uh... big fan. I was just wondering, where'd you come up with Sam, Dean, and Maddison in the first place?"
I cupped my hands around my mouth. "Great question!" Then I clapped obnoxiously.
Others in the crowd clapped and whistled too, while Chuck waited awkwardly.
"Oh, ah, I—" He glanced at us for a second and then gulped. "It just came to me."
Dean threw his hands up in the air out of frustration. Then the man who asked the question sat down.
Chuck nodded. "Okay. Yeah." He pointed out into the crowd of raised hands again. "The hook man."
The hook man stood up. "Uh yeah. Why in every fight scene, the Winchester's are having their gun knocked away by the bad guy?" he asked in a thick German accent. "Why don't they keep it on some kind of bungee?"
"I..." Chuck shook his head. "Yeah, I really don't know."
"Ya, follow up," the hook man asked without really waiting for Chuck's answer. "Why can't they be telling that Ruby is evil? I mean, she is clearly manipulating Sam into some kind of moral lapse. It's obvious, nein?"
I looked up at Sam, who now looked totally pissed.
Then I realized that Becky was shooting death stares at the hook man, and then she spoke up, "Hey!" She started stomping up toward him. "If you don't like the books, don't read 'em, Fritz."
Chuck laughed nervously. "Okay. Okay, just— Okay, it's okay. So, next question."
Hands shot up again, including mine.
He furrowed his brow but pointed at me. "Yeah, you."
"Yeah! Um, did you ever think that writing these books would lead to something as awesome as this?!" I asked sarcastically.
Chuck cleared his throat nervously. "No, no, I uh— I never thought it would go this far." He looked away from Sam, Dean, and I quickly. "Next?"
Hands shot up again.
He pointed. "Yes?"
A man stood up. "Yeah, at the end of the last book, Dean goes to Hell. So, what happens next?"
"Oh. Well, there lies an announcement, actually. You're all going to find out." Chuck looked back at us and hesitated. "Thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, we're going to start publishing again."
The room erupted with cheers, yelling, and applauding as people lept from their seats. Becky jumped up and down, screaming. I could feel the anger radiating off of my brothers.
Shortly after that, the questions ended, and people dispersed, and the three of us found Chuck and Becky sitting near the bar.
Becky's eyes lit up as we approached them. "Oh, hi, Sam!"
Sam nodded, and Becky and Chuck sighed as he looked at her.
"Excuse us," Dean said to Becky and then turned his attention to Chuck. "In case you haven't noticed, our plates are kind of full, okay? Finding the colt, hunting the Devil. We don't have time for this crap."
Becky was smiling and moving her eyebrows up and down at Sam the whole time, and Sam was trying to act like he didn't notice.
"Hey, I didn't call you!" Chuck yelled.
"He's talking about the books," I said.
"Chuck, why are you publishing more books?" Sam asked.
"Um..." Chuck shrugged. "For food and shelter?"
Dean leaned in closer to Chuck. "Who gave you the rights to our life story."
"An archangel, and I didn't want it!" Chuck shouted.
"Well, deal's off, okay? No more books. Our lives are not for..." Sam glanced at Becky. "Public consumption."
Becky slowly turned to stare at Chuck.
Chuck looked at her. "Uh... Becky. Would you excuse us for just a second?"
Becky nodded quickly. "Uh-huh!"
Chuck stood up, and we followed him into a hallway, and then he turned to us. "Do you guys know what I do for a living?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, Chuck, we know."
"Then could you tell me?" he asked and then shook his head. "'Cause I don't, all right? I'm not a good writer. I've got no marketable skills. I'm not some hero who can just hit the road and fight monsters, okay? Until the world ends, I gotta live, all right? And the Supernatural books are all I've got. What else do you want me to do?"
Suddenly, a woman screamed, and we immediately ran up the stairs toward her.
"Uh, guys, no!" Chuck shouted from behind us. "It's, uh—"
At the top of the stairs, a maid was crouched on the ground.
Sam knelt to help her up. "Hey, are you okay?"
The maid nodded. "I think so."
"What happened?" Dean asked.
"I saw a ghost," the maid said with wide eyes, and people started to crowd behind us.
"A ghost?" a man, with an obviously forced deep voice, asked, "Could you tell us what it looked like?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "Why don't you leave this to the grownups, pal."
"A woman. She was in an old-fashioned dress. Really old," the maid explained, "Like a schoolmarm, or something?"
"Did she say something to you?" another man asked.
The maid started to grin. "Okay," she raised her voice, "Gather close everybody, for a terrifying tale of terror. I saw... a ghost!"
Sam shook his head and walked away, and Dean and I followed quickly behind.
Becky ran up to us with a smile on her face. "The LARPing's started."
"The—" Dean shook his head. "What is that again?"
"Live Action Role Playing? It's a game. The convention puts it on." Becky smiled and handed Sam a piece of paper.
Sam started reading it and frowned. "'Dad's Journal. Dear kids, this hotel is haunted. You must hunt down the ghost. Interview witnesses, discover clues, and find the bones. First team to do so wins a fifty-dollar gift card to Sizzler. Love Dad.'"
Becky nodded and smiled aggressively. "You guys are so gonna win."
We walked downstairs into the lobby, where several people were dressed in suits and holding out FBI badges to a man in an ascot.
"Well yes, Agents Lennon and McCartney, as manager of this fine establishment, I can assure you that it is indeed haunted," the man said, "This building was once an orphanage, run by mean old Leticia Gore. One-hundred years ago, this very night, Miss Gore went insane and butchered four little boys before killing herself. Now folks say that the souls of those poor little boys are trapped here, and the evil spirit of Miss Gore punishes them to this very day."
Dean shook his head. "Well, that's just about all the community theatre I can take."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, this cannot get any weirder."
The bigger man from earlier who was dressed like Dean and another very skinny man who was dressed like Sam walked by us.
"Dad said... he said I may have to kill you," the bigger man said in a husky voice.
"Kill me? What the hell does that mean?" the skinny man asked.
The bigger man shook his head. "I don't know."
The skinny man looked away. "Oh..."
Then they continued walking by us.
Sam and Dean looked at each other. "I need a drink."
"Yeah, me too," I said.
Dean clapped his hand on my shoulder. "Nice try, kid."
Then another man that was dressed like Dean and a man who was dressed like me with a very insulting frizzy wig on stopped near us too.
"Come on, Dean," the man said in a high-pitched voice, "My mom tried to kill me. I think I'm capable of using a gun."
"Mads!" the other man bellowed, "I said no, and that's final!"
I glared at them and clenched my fists as I went to take a step forward, Dean pulled me back.
"All right, maybe you can have a sip," he said and pulled me away.
I looked back over my shoulder. "That conversation never happened, douchebags! Get your facts straight!"
The men raised their eyebrows at me, shook their heads, and then walked away.
The three of us sat at a bar, Dean ordered two shots of whiskey, and Sam ordered a beer.
Dean took down one shot, and I put my hand out. He furrowed his brow at me. "What?"
"You said I could have a sip," I said.
Dean smirked. "All right, just a sip, though," he said and then took the other shot, leaving a little left in the glass for me. "Here you go," he said as he slid it over.
I picked it up and sniffed it. "Ugh, this stuff smells like rubbing alcohol."
Sam laughed. "You're better off not smelling it."
I shrugged and drank the small bit that he had left behind. I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut as the nasty flavor of alcohol ran down my throat.
"That good, huh?" Sam laughed.
The bartender walked over and cleared his throat. "How old is she?"
I slammed the shot glass down on the table. "Old enough." I glared at him. "Move along, chuckles," I said, trying to mimic Dean.
The bartender looked back at me and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, I don't get paid enough for this." Then he walked away.
Dean laughed. "Wow, I just gave you a sip, but it looks like you got your beer muscles on already."
Sam laughed. "So, what did you think?"
I nodded. "It tasted like a hospital smells."
Sam nodded. "Yup, that sounds about right."
"Why do you guys drink this stuff?" I asked.
Dean smirked. "You'll understand in a couple years, baby sis." He turned to a woman who was texting next to him. She was dressed as the ghost of Leticia Gore. "How you doing?"
"Busy," she said, not looking up from her phone.
"Well, you sure look lovely tonight. Especially for a dead chick," Dean said.
"Buddy, I have heard that line seventeen times tonight, okay? And all from dudes wearing MacGyver jackets." She finally looked up at Dean and checked him out, and then started smiling. "But you seem different."
"How so?" Dean asked.
"Well, you don't seem scared of women." She smiled.
"For the last time, I'm not making this up, okay?!" a man shouted, causing us to look. "She's upstairs, a real live dead ghost!"
Dean nodded at her. "Excuse me." He got up, and we followed.
"I'm sure it was just one of the ghost actors," a younger man said to the man who was shouting.
The man had a large gash in his head and was bleeding.
He pointed to his head. "Who beat the hell out of me and then vanished?"
"You saw something?" Sam asked.
The man turned to Sam. "This isn't part of the game, jerk." He turned back to his friend. "Look, I'm getting out of here, and you should do the same." Then he turned and walked away.
His friend ran after him. "Alex, wait. Hey, come back!"
"What do you think?" Sam asked.
"I don't think that guy's a good enough an actor to be acting," Dean said.
We walked back out to the lobby to speak to the real manager and passed by the man in the ascot who was pretending to be the manager for the fake Sam and Dean's.
"Excuse us, mind if we ask you a few questions?" Dean asked the manager behind the front desk.
The manager shook his head and sighed. "Look, I don't have time to play Star Wars, guys. Go ask the guy in the ascot."
Dean slid a fifty across the desk. "Actually, we uh... really want to talk to you."
The manager took the fifty. "Okay. You guys are really into this."
Sam nodded. "You have no idea."
"What do you want to know?" the manager asked.
"All this stuff they're saying. This place being haunted. Leticia Gore. Any truth to it?" Sam asked.
The manager shrugged. "We generally don't like to publicize this to... normal people... but yeah. 1909 this place was called Gore Orphanage. Miss Gore killed four boys with a butcher's knife, then offed herself."
"And is tonight really the anniversary?" I asked, feeling excited that it wasn't weird for me to ask questions here.
The manager nodded. "Yup, guess your convention folks want authenticity."
"There been any sightings?" Sam asked.
The manager nodded. "Yup, over the years. A few maids have quit saying they heard the boys or saw them. A janitor even saw Miss Gore once."
"Where did Miss Gore carve up the kids?" Dean asked.
The manager sighed. "Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off-limits to nerds."
Dean slid another fifty across the desk.
The manager took it and leaned in to whisper, "The attic."
With that, we walked up the stairs and into the attic. We crawled through a small opening with our flashlights and shined them around the dusty, mothball-scented dark room. Then the EMF meter in Sam's hand started buzzing.
"The EMF's going nuts," Sam said.
Dean nodded. "Great. We got a real ghost, and we got a bunch of dudes pretending to be us poking at it."
Sam shook his head. "No way this ends well."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, well, serves them right."
I sighed. "Dean..."
He shrugged. "I'm just saying."
We continued shining our light into every crack and crevasse but came up empty. Until we heard a small voice somewhere in the room. "My mommy loves me."
Around a bookshelf, we found a ghost of a boy who was sitting on the floor holding his head. "I said, my mommy loves me."
"I'm sure she does," Sam said, sweetly.
"My mommy loves me this much!" The boy moved his hands, revealing that he had been partially scalped and then disappeared.
Dean and I sat at a table while we waited for Sam to get off of the phone. Across the bar, I noticed Becky intensely watching Sam as he paced.
I nudged Dean. "What's wrong with her?"
Then we watched as Sam noticed her too, but when they made eye contact, Becky licked up the center of her palm and then blew it at him as if she were blowing kisses. Then she winked at Sam. Dean and I looked at each other, both nearly gagging.
"Girl's got a few screws loose," Dean said and took a sip of his beer.
Sam walked over and sat with us. "All right. So that was a guy with the County Historical Society."
"And...?" Dean asked.
"Not only did Leticia Gore butcher four boys, but one of them was her own son," Sam said.
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Her son."
Sam nodded. "Yeah. According to the police at the time, she scalped the kid."
Dean shook his head angrily. "Oh, that's it. I'm gonna deep fry this bitch, extra crispy. Dude say where she was buried?"
"He doesn't know," Sam said.
At the next table over, we overheard one of the men who was role-playing Sam from earlier speaking, "Check it out." He pointed to a large piece of paper. "There's the orphanage. Here's the carriage house, and right there... cemetery."
"You think that's where Leticia's planted?" the bigger man dressed like Dean asked in a gruff voice.
We stood up and walked over.
Sam's impersonator nodded. "It's worth a shot."
Sam reached over to grab an older looking map off of their table.
"Hey, hey!" Sam's impersonator yelled.
Dean's impersonator grabbed the map. "Hey, do you mind?"
"It's real," Sam said to us, "A century-old, at least, and he's right, there is a cemetery on the grounds."
"Where'd you get that?" Dean asked them.
"It's called a game pal. It ain't called charity," Dean's impersonator said.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Gimme the map, chuckles."
Dean's impersonator was taken aback. "Yeah, well, you're the chuckles... chuckles. Besides Dean don't listen to nobody." He pulled his jacket back to reveal a plastic gun.
"Dean! Cool it," Sam's impersonator said.
Dean reached for his own gun.
"Dean..." I warned.
"What?!" Dean yelled, "They're friggin' annoying!"
Sam sighed. "Look, guys. We all wanna find the bones, right? We just thought... it would go faster if we all worked together."
The two exchanged looks and then looked back at us.
Sam's impersonator cleared his throat. "We... uh— We get the Sizzler gift card."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine."
Dean's impersonator nodded. "And we get to be Sam and Dean."
Sam and Dean exchanged looks.
"Fine," Dean said.
"Yes," Dean's impersonator said happily and looked down at me. "You can be our Maddison because we couldn't get one in time."
I rolled my eyes.
We walked along a path outside of the hotel behind them.
Dean's impersonator looked back over his shoulder. "Hey, Rufus, Bobby, Maddison, would you hurry it up?"
"Yeah," Sam's impersonator said, "Stay close, Maddi."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah."
"Are you all right?" Sam asked Dean, who had been quiet the whole time.
"I'm trying to be," he said grumpily.
"So, where were we?" Sam's impersonator asked.
"Uh, Dr. Ellicott had just zapped your brain," said.
Sam's impersonator nodded. "Right, got it." He cleared his throat and got into character. "Why are we even here, Dean? You just following Dad's footsteps like a good little soldier? You that desperate for approval?"
"This isn't you talking, Sam," Dean's impersonator said.
Dean looked at Sam like, "how much more do we have to put up with?" Sam just shrugged.
"See, that's the difference between you and me. I got a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic," Sam's impersonator recited.
"So, what are ya going to do, Sam? Are you going to kill me?" Dean's impersonator asked.
"Man, I am so sick of you telling me what to do." Sam's impersonator turned and pointed a fake gun at me. "I'll kill her instead. I'm not doing what you tell me anymore, Dean."
"Dude, you're skipping lines," Dean's impersonator said, annoyed.
"Get that out of my face, bro," I said and pushed the gun away.
Sam's impersonator leaned down and whispered, "That's not what she said."
"All right, ya know what? That's it. That is it," Dean spoke up.
"What's wrong, Bobby?" Dean's impersonator asked.
Dean paused. He was so infuriated he shook his head and took a deep breath. "I'm not Bobby, okay? You're not Sam. You're not Dean. What is wrong with you? Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?"
"Because we're fans. Like you," Sam's impersonator said in his normal voice.
Dean shook his head. "No. I am not a fan, okay?" He pointed to the three of us. "Not fans. In fact, I think that the story sucks. It is not fun. It is not entertaining. It is a river of crap that would send most people howling to the nuthouse." He stepped closer to them. "So, you listen to me. Their pain is not for your amusement. I mean, do you think they enjoy being treated like— like circus freaks?"
"Uh..." Dean's impersonator looked confused. "I don't think they care, because they're fictional characters!"
"Oh, they care. Believe me. They care a lot," Dean said and stormed off down the path.
The impersonators looked at Sam and me confused.
Sam shrugged. "He... uh— He takes the story really seriously."
They nodded, and then we continued down the path to the cemetery and the five of us shined our flashlights around.
Dean and I walked over to the right side of the cemetery and found the graves of four young kids.
"Found the four boys," Dean said.
Sam nodded, shining his light on another gravestone. "And here's Leticia Gore."
The impersonators were tiptoeing around the edge of the cemetery, shining their lights into bushes.
"Uh... what are you guys doing?" Dean asked.
"We're looking for bones genius," Dean's impersonator said, in character. "They gotta be around here somewhere."
Dean nodded. "Okay. Generally, bones are in the ground."
Sam put his bag on the ground.
"Yeah, I know that. I just—" Dean's impersonator said and then watched as Sam pulled a shovel out of his bag. "Wait, hold on. Are you guys serious?"
Dean nodded. "Deadly."
Sam's impersonator shook his head. "We're not really digging up graves, you guys. We're just playing a game."
"Trust us. You wanna win the game, right?" Dean asked.
I shrugged. "Or, you could just leave."
The impersonators gave each other a look but ultimately decided to stay.
A little bit later, Sam and Dean finished digging the grave. Sam climbed out, and Dean lifted the coffin lid, revealing a skeleton.
Dean's impersonator gagged. "That's not a plastic skeleton. That's a— that's a skeleton-skeleton."
"You just dug up a real grave," Sam's impersonator said, mortified.
Dean nodded, still standing in the grave. "Yeah."
"You guys are nuts," Dean's impersonator said.
"I thought you guys wanted to be hunters," Sam said.
Dean's impersonator started freaking out. "Hunters aren't real, man. This isn't real."
They turned and started walking away.
"My god. You guys have seriously lost your grip on this—" Sam's impersonator turned back and froze.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" Miss Gore appeared beside Sam and then flung him across the cemetery.
The impersonators screamed and started running. Dean pulled himself out of the grave, and then Sam's impersonator tripped and fell. Dean's impersonator turned back and helped him up, and then they started running again. Dean ran to his bag and pulled out salt, gas, and a lighter.
Then Miss Gore appeared in front of the impersonators.
"Oh my god!" they screamed as they clutched each other.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty!" Miss Gore shoved her hands into their chests, and they screamed out in pain.
I ran over to Sam's bag and pulled out a shotgun, turned it on Miss Gore, and shot her with salt. She disappeared and then reappeared next to me.
"Naughty, naughty, naughty," she said and then reached for me, but Dean dropped the lighter into the grave, and she went up in flames.
The impersonators turned to us and stared in shock.
"Real enough for you?" Dean asked.
We went to the bar and found the impersonators taking some shots, so we walked up to them.
Sam's impersonator took his shot. "That was... really—"
"Awful. Right?" Dean asked.
They turned to us.
Dean nodded. "Exactly." He slapped some money down on their table. "Round's on us, guys."
"See you around," Sam said, and we turned to leave.
"Hey," Dean's impersonator said, and we turned back. "How'd you know how to do all that?"
Sam shrugged. "We... uh— We read the books."
Dean nodded, then we turned to leave and found Chuck along the way.
"Hey, Chuck," Dean said, "Good luck with the Supernatural books, and screw you very much."
Then the three of us continued walking to the front door, but when we got there, it was locked.
"That's weird," Dean said.
Sam nodded. "Definitely."
We continued looking around the hotel for any exit, but they were all locked.
Sam and I walked back to Dean from separate directions.
"Hey. Anything?" Dean asked.
I shook my head. "Nope."
Sam nodded. "Every exit is locked. Almost like—"
"Something's keeping us in?" Dean asked and knocked his knuckles against the window in frustration.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. This is bad."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Gee ya think, Sammy?"
Then a woman screamed, and we ran toward her.
The Miss Gore actress ran out of a room, terrified. "Don't go in there!"
"Get downstairs, okay? Go, go!" Dean instructed.
We walked into a library and found Miss Gore's son sitting in the corner, holding his head again. "Why'd you do that? Why did you send my mommy away?"
"Uh, maybe because of the high and tight she gave you, huh? How 'bout some thanks," Dean snapped.
I elbowed him, and Sam cleared his throat.
Dean shrugged. "Well, I'm just saying a little gratitude might be nice once in a while."
"My mommy didn't do this to me," the boy said.
Sam furrowed his brow. "What? Then who did?"
The boy disappeared, and then there was another scream. So, we ran down the hallway and found the German hook man dead and scalped on the floor.
Sam and I ran into the auditorium. Chuck was just finishing up another session of questions, and Dean was gathering anyone who was not in the auditorium.
"Well, guys, I guess we're out of time," Chuck said, "So, thank you for your incredibly probing and rigorous questions, and have a good—"
Sam ran onto the stage and whispered in his ear.
"Hey..." Chuck said, confused. (...) He looked at Sam, shocked. "What?" (...) "Holy crap."
Sam covered Chuck's mic with his hand and then continued speaking with him. Then Sam walked off the stage and joined me.
Chuck cleared his throat. "Okay. So, uh, good news. I got much more to tell you... I guess."
Dean walked into the auditorium with the actors and hotel employees. They all looked pissed and annoyed that he had led them in. He closed the door, and then Sam and I walked up to him.
"Okay. New theory. The legends about Leticia are ass-backward obviously," Dean said.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. So, all right, let's say those three orphans were playing cowboys and Indians."
Dean shrugged. "LARPing as cowboys and Indians."
Sam shook his head. "Whatever. And let's say they scalped Leticia's son and killed him."
"Mom catches 'em in the act, flips out, slices them and dices herself," Dean said.
Sam nodded. "If that's true, it means we've got three bloodthirsty brats in the building."
I nodded. "Yeah, and we got rid of the only thing keeping them under control."
"Smooth move on our part," Sam said.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, well, we gotta get back to the cemetery, torch the kids' bones."
"How?" I asked.
Sam nodded. "We're trapped, we don't even have our guns. The ghosts are running this joint, and they're only scared of one thing."
Dean thought for a second and then lit up. "Exactly."
Dean walked off and tried to convince the Miss Gore actress to try to scare the boys into thinking she was still there and that they still needed to listen to her.
At the same time, Sam and I went around and put salt around all of the doors.
"You want me to do what?" the actress asked when we walked up to her and Dean.
"You're an actress. We just want you to act," Dean said.
She shook her head. "I work at Hooters in Toledo. No, you can forget it."
"You'll be safe, we promise. This is really important," Sam said.
Behind us, the impersonators walked up, and Dean's impersonator put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "We wanna help."
Dean looked at Sam. "Just give her the puppy dog thing, okay?" He turned to the impersonators. "Guys, no."
"Why not?" Sam's impersonator asked.
"'Cause this isn't make-believe," Dean said.
Dean's impersonator nodded. "Look, we know. We're not nuts. We're friggin' terrified."
"Yeah, but if all these people are seriously in trouble, we gotta do something," Sam's impersonator said.
"Why?" Dean asked.
"Because." Dean's impersonator sighed. "That's what the Winchester's would do."
Dean looked down and sighed. "Fine."
The plan was, Sam, the impersonators, and I would go to the cemetery and dig up the boys. While Dean went with the actress to distract them and keep everyone safe until we could burn their bones.
We ran to the front door and slammed into it.
"Push it!" Sam yelled.
The door started to give a little.
He looked down at me. "Maddison, Go!"
I squeezed through the door and tried to pull the door open from the outside. The door started to give more.
"Go, go, go!" Sam yelled.
The impersonators squeezed out, and then the door slammed shut.
I hit the door. "Sam!"
"Maddi, it's okay. Just go, you know what to do!" Sam yelled.
I took a deep breath. "Okay." I pulled a salt shotgun out of our duffel bag and cocked it. "Let's go."
The impersonators nodded, and then we ran back to the cemetery. We pulled shovels out of the duffel bag and then started digging up the boy's graves.
"Oh my god." Sam's impersonator breathed heavily. "Supernatural makes digging graves seem so easy. It's not, though. I'm gonna throw up."
Dean's impersonator shook his head. "No, you're not."
"Just keep digging," I said as I threw dirt over my shoulder. "It gets easier if you just keep going."
Dean's impersonator looked up at me, confused. "How many graves have you dug?"
I shook my head. "It's not important, just keep going."
We kept digging and eventually had all of the graves dug. We took the bones and put them in one pile and poured gas and salt on them.
Dean's impersonator opened a lighter and flicked it repeatedly, but the flame wouldn't flare up.
"How come Dean can always light the stupid thing on the first friggin' try?" He kept flicking it with no result. "Come on!"
Since we were running out of time, I grabbed it from him, lit it in one go, and dropped it into the bones causing them to immediately light up.
"I almost had it," Dean's impersonator said, looking a little disappointed.
I smacked him on the arm. "Come on, let's head back."
When we reached the hotel, the police and an ambulance were already there. I saw Dean pacing next to the Impala, and I ran up to him.
He hugged me. "You did good, kid." He pulled away and ruffled my hair with a smile.
The impersonators came up behind me shortly after.
"Ya know I gotta hand it to you guys. You really helped save our asses back there. So, uh, ya know, thanks," Dean said and then looked at them for a moment. "Guys, I don't even know your names."
Sam's impersonator nodded. "Oh. Well, I'm Barnes. This is Demian. What's yours?"
"Dean," Dean said and then put his hand on my shoulder. "And this is Maddison... the real Dean and Maddison."
After a moment, Demian and Barnes laughed.
"Yeah, right. Me too!" Demian laughed.
"Get the hell out of here!" Barnes laughed.
Dean looked slightly disappointed and then smiled. "Well, anyway. Thanks. Really." Then we turned to walk away.
"You're wrong, ya know," Demian said, causing us to turn back.
"Sorry?" Dean asked.
Demian nodded. "About Supernatural. No offense, but I'm not sure you get what the stories about."
Dean smirked. "Is that so."
Demian sighed. "All right. In real life, he sells stereo equipment. I fix copiers. Our lives suck. But to be the Winchesters, to wake up every morning and save the world. To have a sibling who would die for you." He shrugged. "Well, who wouldn't want that?"
Dean nodded. "Maybe you got a point. Ya know, you two don't make a bad team yourselves. How do you know each other anyway?"
Barnes smiled. "Oh. Well, we met online. Supernatural chat room."
Dean nodded. "Oh. Well, it must be nice to get out of your parent's basement. Make some friends."
"We're more than friends," Demian said and took Barnes' hand in his. "We're partners."
Barnes dropped his head onto Demian's shoulder, and they both smiled.
Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Oh. Wow." He cleared his throat. "Howdy, partners."
"Howdy." Barnes smiled.
Dean nodded. "Anyway, it was nice working with you."
They smiled. "You too."
Then we turned and walked back to the Impala to wait for Sam.
"You okay?" Sam asked when he walked up.
"Yeah, ya know?" Dean nodded. "I think I'm good."
Sam leaned on the Impala. "Well, you're not going to believe it, but I got a lead on the colt."
"What?" Dean and I asked in unison.
Sam nodded. "Long story. I'll tell you on the way."
Dean shrugged. "What are we waiting for?"