Curtain Call
By, december.morning
Disclaimer: Neh. That's all I'll say on THAT manner.
Summary: His foot on the final step, he turned to face her and gave her another eerie, fake-smile, and whispered, "This is my scene."
Last time in Curtain Call: The boys break into the asylum and retrieve Melina Davidson's diary, which contains some extremely valuable information: for one thing, Joseph Bates is The Chef. For another, he killed himself two months before the killings began. Also, Sam finds out that everyone who died was in the show, but the man who played the Phantom died of a heart attack. He decides to offer himself up, so to attract Bates' attention.
.xxx.
August 19th, 2003—Bucks County Playhouse
Outside the playhouse, Dean was nervously rifling through the trunk, whereas Sam leaned nonchalantly on the trunk, staring at the dark, ominous doors of the Bucks County Playhouse. While Dean dropped things, swore and made a God-awful racket, Sam was in silent contemplation: how to draw out Bates? Somehow, he doubted that yelling "Hey, asshole, come on out!" would do the trick in this situation. They needed something more subtle.
"Dean, what the hell are you looking for?"
"I thought I knew, but I don't really anymore. Something to keep him away from you, I guess," Dean muttered distractedly, extracting a large, vicious looking knife from the depths of the trunk. He pressed his thumb against the blade to check the sharpness, then swore and dropped the knife as a thin line of blood welled up. "Damn, it's sharp!"
"That would be the point of a knife. And, the point of me going into the theater is to get him close to me. Distraction, remember?" Sam answered, somewhat amused. He ambled over and picked up the knife, throwing it back into the trunk. "Relax. You've got the salt and gas, right?"
"Yup, and I got my bag lunch, too, Mom," Dean replied with a grin, holding up paper bag, filled with God-knew-what. Serious moment gone. Sam rolled his eyes and grinned.
"Back window again?"
"Uh-huh."
In silence, the two walked to their open window, which they hadn't bothered to shut. After giving Dean a boost, Sam clambered awkwardly through the too-small, spider web covered window, getting many of the sticky threads in his hair in the process. As they dropped to the ground, Sam realized gleefully that Dean had spider webs all over his face; as it was, his older brother was swiping angrily at his face.
"Dude, you look like an old man!"
"Shut up. We got asses to torch!"
Sam could only smile as the brothers crept into the theater, Dean clutching his paper bag, Sam shining a flashlight around the ice-cold, pitch black theater. He shivered –Damn, was it cold!— and began to prowl around the theater. Meanwhile, Dean was rooting through his paper bag, and eventually surfaced with a small hammer, which he immediately put to use on the walls.
"Dean. Dean, I'm going on the stage. Keep looking for the hollow spot, that's probably where the body's hidden," Sam whispered; the sound echoed through the dark theater. Dean didn't answer, but the beam of his flashlight caught Dean's bobbing head. Sam grinned weakly and turned on his heel, walking down the same aisle –unbeknownst to him— that James had walked to his death on. As he stepped over the hidden room, a violent shiver rocked his body, and he dropped the flashlight.
He swore and crouched, turning his head so he could see into the secret room. Sure enough, the flashlight lay at the bottom of the stairs, its beam flickering weakly. He frowned: he had just replaced those batteries!
Sighing, he stood and turned, only to find himself face to face with Joseph Bates.
Also known as The Chef.
Death had not treated Bates well. His skin was a sickly shade of grey, and it hung off of his frame like clothes that were many sizes too large. The clothes he wore were discolored and ripped, exposing more pale skin, and the occasional bright white bone. His hair was almost nonexistent; what he did have was bleached white, and his eyes were a pale, luminescent green. In his hands, he held a syringe with a thick metal pointer, and a vicious looking knife. He smiled, exposing yellow, rotted nubs of teeth; obviously, Bates didn't believe in the power of oral hygiene.
For a moment, the two stared at each other –Sam's eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disgust, Bates' creepy grin growing wider— before two things happened simultaneously: Bates raised his syringe, and Sam opened his mouth.
"Dean! Damnit, look faster!" He yelled, which got Dean's attention well enough: his older brother whipped around, dropping the hammer on his toe in the process. For a minute, Dean just stared, before picking up the hammer and beating on the walls with more fervor than before.
"Hello, Samuel. Do you have an acting background?" Bates asked, taking a step towards Sam. The ghost smiled still wider, and looked Sam over.
Sam was determinedly silent. He only glared at the ghost, trying to fit all of his hatred into his gaze.
"You seem to. Why, anyone can see that you are frightened. But you conceal it. You hide yourself well, Samuel, and a good actor needs that. Would you like to join the show?"
Before he knew what he was doing, Sam shook his head vehemently.
"But we have an incredible cast…" Bates waved his arm daintily, and a howling wind screamed through the theater. Dimly, Sam heard his brother swearing in the background, but his attention wasn't on Dean; it was on the stage.
Defying everything he had ever learned about spirits, they were appearing on the stage, their arrival punctuated by the unpleasant smell of death. There were roughly 10 ghosts, dressed in all sorts of clothes: a boy in his mid twenties, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt; a young, blonde woman in a hospital gown; a handsome man who had the same jaw as Nancy from Green Oaks…slowly, Sam realized what he was looking at: the victims of The Chef.
"We need you, Samuel. We need you to be The Phantom…"
A loud hollow noise permeated the theater: Dean had belatedly found the hollow spot.
"Tut. Excuse me for a minute…" Bates said in an almost bored tone, sweeping past Sam. "Mr. Winchester, I strongly encourage you to leave my bones alone."
By now, Dean had the bones on the floor, and he was busy pouring salt over them. "Not gonna happen, Ghost Boy. You're gonna burn!"
Bates shook his head slowly, and clapped his hands. It was as if a telekinetic explosion had taken forth: Dean was literally lifted into the air and thrown into the back wall, at least ten feet away.
"Dean!"
"No, no…leave him. He'll die soon, anyway…" the ghost commented sadistically, raising the needle. "Melina, hold him."
The ghost in the hospital gown came forward, slowly, reluctantly, and gripped Sam's forearms tightly. There was something in her touch that shocked him: maybe it was how ice cold her fingers were? It was almost like there was electricity in her tingling fingers. But before he got a chance to even twitch against her death-grip, Bates slammed the needle into the soft flesh beneath his sternum. Looking right into Sam's eyes, the ghost pushed the plunger, and Sam screamed before he knew he had opened his mouth.
Eyes wide and mouth wider, Sam felt himself slide out of Melina's tingling grip, and to the floor. God, his nerves were on fire; even the slow, gradual fall to the floor had hurt him. It was like he had thrown himself off of the roof of the Empire State Building, instead of just falling to his knees on the carpeted floor.
"Now, this will hurt, Samuel. But it will be worth it…" Bates whispered, crouching down next to where Sam writhed on the floor. He grinned, a gross parody of kindness, and slipped underneath the stage. Hooking a pale hand under Sam's collar, the ghost dragged Sam's pain-wracked, twitching body underneath the stage. He snapped his long fingers, and a heavy crate moved slowly along the floor, finally stopping right in front of the door. Another snap, and the crate slammed back, sending waves of dust into the air.
.xxx.
April 19th, 2003—Bucks County Playhouse
Dean awoke hours later to a headache that trumped any hangover he'd ever had. As he sat up, rubbing his head and moaning, he was confused for a second: what the hell happened? Then it all came slamming back: Sammy, the ghost, flying across the room…the bones! Swearing, Dean rocketed to his feet, studiously ignoring the throbbing ache in his temples.
The bones were still there, the salt scattered tantalizingly over them, but the gasoline was gone. He stared at them for a fraction of a second, then kicked the bones angrily and stepped back. Unable to burn the bones, he did the only thing he could.
"Sammy?"
Nothing. He tried again, this time louder—still nothing. It was as quiet as a mausoleum in that damned theater!
He swept the theater a final time, then turned to the doors.
"He said it was out of respect, said he liked her a lot, but I think it was out of guilt…"
Dr. Richard Bates…he had to know something. And he was Joseph Bates' brother. Why else would he feel guilty?
"I'm gonna find you, Sammy," Dean whispered, before turning and sprinting to their famous open window.
Little did he know, but Sam was tied up, less than fifty feet away, in Bates' personal purgatory.
.xxx.
Hoo-wee! I like this one…! I'd been imagining the meeting between Bates and the brothers for a while, and I like how it turned out!
I actually don't have much to say in this situation…;
Oh! Yeah! In the next chapter…eh…what fun would it be if I told you?
Review Responses (Yay! Five!)
Ghostwriter: Yeah, you're right…hell, school is why it took me so long to put up this chapter! Thanks for your consistent reviews!
Gods Geek: Thanks! I'm so glad you like it! I hope you like this chapter!
Alyssa Halliwell: It's okay, I'm glad you reviewed! Yeah, looks like there's gonna be another chapter, maybe even two more! I just couldn't wrap everything up in one one. Sorry if this is a bit late; school got in the way.
Elle Knight: Thanks! You bet I'm going to be writing more stories; I've got a new idea brewing already. Gonna be called Ragdoll, and I actually had a nightmare about it last night. Anyway, I picked The Phantom of the Opera because it's just so haunting, and it's familiar to me—my sister is obsessed. That show provides endless opportunities for creepiness! Plus, a character called The Phantom? Perfect!
pmsdevil01: I like your penname! And thanks for reviewing, I really hope you enjoy this new update!
All I can say is, drop a line! Let me know if you liked it, or if you didn't!