Bedeviling the Chipper

By: Maygin

Chapter Three

"So where are we headed?"

Dean grit his teeth together… the man did not stop talking; and the gay, valley girl speech was really grating on his nerves. "Weren't you listening the first ten times I said it?"

"Okay well for starters you only mentioned it twice but you never said where exactly it was, and secondly… I can deal with the whole roguish, bad-ass, devil may care attitude you've got going on, but you have got to see a professional about the whole anger management." Dean's nails pressed deep into the steering wheel. "And Sam agrees."

Dean glanced into his rear-view mirror, throwing a deadly glare into the back seat… the traitor. "Yeah well Sam doesn't have any room to talk."

Cal turned and looked into the back seat as well, "Pissed about what?" Cal's head swiveled back to the driver. "What are you still pissed about?"

"Nothing." Dean stated flatly.

"Who's Doctor Ellicot?"

"Dude- Sam, do you mind?" Dean indignantly threw to the back seat.

Cal suddenly gasped, mouth and eyes widely gaping at the back seat, "You shot your own brother?" His head swung back to the driver. "Why don't you want to talk about it Dean?"

"Damnit, Sam?" Dean actually turned around this time throwing an angry scowl into the back. "Do you think you could not reveal all our problems to the gay man in the passenger seat!"

"Oh-ho," Cal laughed shifting in his seat, shaking his head, "you two have serious issues. But I can totally see why you wouldn't want to see a psychologist anymore… gawd you must be traumatized!"

"Look, can we not talk about this!" Dean was highly uncomfortable with this entire situation.

"Talking through problems is good Dean, it helps heal the wounds in our souls-"

"Alright- SHUT UP!" Dean threw another warning glance in the rear view mirror. "Both of you just the hell up or so help me I will drive us off the next bridge I see!"

"Technically your brother's already dead so-"

"SHUT UP!"

Cal huffed with a roll of his eyes and turned to the back seat with a knowing look mouthing, 'we'll talk'.

Dean growled a few curses at whatever idiot thought it would be a good idea to stick his brother's spirit with twinkle toes here. He couldn't believe less than an hour ago he'd actually been dreading being alone. He'd give his left arm to have a little peace and quiet right about now. Okay… well maybe Cal's left arm. And maybe his right arm too.

He jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, feeling partially vindicated at the surprised squeal from the passenger whose arms shot out to hold onto something. He slammed on the brakes suddenly and once more the passenger let out a high pitched scream that was quite possibly more girly than most women he met. And in his line of work, he'd heard more than his share of screaming women.

"OH MY GAWD!" Cal put a hand to his chest. "Oh my gawd! You almost killed us! My life just flashed before my eyes."

Dean calmly looked to the passenger, "We're here." He pulled on his door handle and slid out.

Cal watched him shut his door with a little bit of fear. "Is he always like this?" he asked, looking to the back seat. He then shook his head, "I feel for you honey. That man needs some serious Prozac."

"CAL!"

Said passenger jumped at Dean's call, and quickly obeyed, exiting the car. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Don't get your panties all in a twist." He found the eldest Winchester at the back of the car, trunk open and… "Oh my gawd!" He gawked at the assortment of weapons secretly hidden in the back of the car. He reached in to pick up a stick that had a chain and deadly looking iron ball with spikes attached to it. Dean smacked his hand before he fingered it though. He snatched his hand back and threw a sour look at his offender.

"Do not touch." Dean ordered as if he were talking to a four year old.

Cal watched as Dean pulled a shotgun, a water bottle, a knife, a hand gun which he slid into the back of his jeans, and a book out of the truck, and then reached up to close it. "Wait," Dean paused looking at his counterpart. "Don't I get something?"

Dean reached back into the compartment, pulled out a white cloth and handed it to the blond man. Cal looked at the cloth with disdain. "You get two guns and a knife, and I get a hankie? I meant a weapon."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean slammed the trunk closed, "When that thing comes around a corner and sees you bawling into that hankie… it'll scare the hell outta him." Dean turned and headed towards the old, building that now looked like a four story building that had been through a war.

"Oh, ha- ha." Cal sneered. "You're going to be sorry when that thing eats me."

"Not likely."

"Dean," Cal caught up to him, "Dean, Sam says you should at least give me the holy water. Holy water?" the last was directed to the empty air on his right. "You mean people actually use holy water?"

Dean abruptly stopped. "Hey, Lucy- Dezi… do you think you two can focus here?"

Cal's eyes suddenly widened with a gasp, "Samuel Michael Winchester!"

Dean's forehead creased with curiosity. "What? What'd he say?"

Cal crossed his arms and refused to look at either brother, "I refuse to repeat such language."

"Whatever, look-" Dean, quite used to the verbal sparring he and his brother always got into, brushed it off easily, "I want you," He pointed to Cal, "to stay close behind me."

"Oooh, my pleasure sweetheart." Cal leered, sending an admiring look to the older brother's backside.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And you," he pointed to his right; Cal reached over and pushed Dean's hand the other way. Dean pressed his lips together and swallowed down his pride, "You watch my watch my back." He growled to the empty air, turned and headed for the open door-way.

Cal took his position behind him with fervor. "Sam wants to know what the hell you expect him to do in- what?" he looked behind them, "in his current state of non-existence?"

"I want you to zap that bastard's ass."

"He said he doesn't think it works like that."

"Well you better figure it out Sam, cuz PeeWee here isn't gonna be much help."

"Well maybe if I had something more than a hanker-chief…" Cal's head tilted to the side with a smirk, "You know you should register that ass as a lethal weapon cuz mmm-mm… you got it going on sugar!"

"Sorry dickead, this ass is for ladies only." He said distractedly as he stepped through the door and looked at their surroundings. He heard a sudden skitter on the floor above them. "All right, head's up."

"No need to innuendo that one." Cal whispered to his friendly specter.

Dean rolled his eyes and headed towards the stairwell. There really wasn't much left of the building but the concrete foundations. Wooden planks and general rubble was strewn about, long sheets of plastic hung from the ceilings, and of course your common homeless trash pile here and there. He had to admit, some of the graffiti was pretty good.

"Are those boobs?" Cal whispered loudly, squinting at the wall decorations.

"Pay attention." Dean growled.

"Sorry."

"Shh!"

"Gawd you're pushy."

Dean stopped and glared purposefully at his counterpart. "Dude, shut- up!"

A silent pause filled the air. "Control freak." Came a mumbled reply.

"Sam!" Dean whirled around in anger. "Quit feeding him lines!"

"Quit yelling," Cal shushed with a hurried wave of his hand, "You'll give away our position."

"Our position?" Dean asked incredulously. "What are you in the army now?"

"Oh, don't I wish." Cal laughed haughtily. "I put in an application once, but the recruiter wouldn't even take it."

"Thank God."

A loud bang shot through the air, echoing off the abandoned walls, and once more it was eerily silent. Dean glanced down at his arm and noticed he once more had an attachment, he rolled his eyes and started moving slowly forward again. He quietly mumbled to the air around him, "You're lucky you're already dead Sam, cuz if you weren't I'd kill you for all this…" Dean paused as the air suddenly seemed to shift around them... as if the pressure had just dropped.

"…Sam?" Dean questioned.

"He said it wasn't him." Cal whispered, his grip tightening on the corporeal brother's arm. Dean's head swiveled around, as he stepped through the plastic hanging in front of the second floor doorway. "What kind of monster is this anyways?"

"It's a monster. What more do you need?" Dean moved to the left and started making their way through the different rooms, stepping over trash and rubble.

"Well are we talking a Harry-and-the-Henderson's-big-foot-type monster, or a Night-of-the-Living-Dead-I'm-gonna-suck-your-face-off-type monster? Turn here." He pulled on Dean's arm.

"What?" Dean looked through the doorway he indicated.

"Sam said so." He shrugged, still firmly attached to his favorite arm. They moved into the other room which connected to three more rooms.

"Eddie, ex-delivery boy."

It was Cal's turn to look confused. "What?"

"The zombie," Dean explained, "it's more like Eddie, the ex-delivery boy."

"Oh my gawd! You've seen Rocky Horror Picture Show?" Cal's voice sqeaked as he tried to contain his excitement.

"Actually no, Sam was watching it one night a few weeks back... you know, one of those nights he was supposedly sleeping." Dean threw a sarcastic look behind them.

"Middle door. So we're talking a very scary individual who just wants to kill."

"Yup."

"And why are we here again?"

Dean sighed as he stepped through the middle door. "To kill it before it kills anyone else."

"What if it kills us?"

"It won't."

"Well how do you know? It already killed Sam!" Cal screeched.

"Shh! Sam's not dead yet." A loud thump and scraping noise came through the doorway on their right.

"Ohmygawdohmygawdohmygawd." Cal's hand flew forward, bright, white hankie bravely warding off any monster. "I think it knows we're here." He whispered loudly.

"You know, there's a certain decibel point you reach when your whispering becomes kind of pointless."

"What is that, some elegant way of telling me to shut-up?"

"Yes."

"Well you're too late; Sam already said the exact same thing two minutes ago."

Dean gave him a screwy look, "Seriously?" Cal nodded sympathetically. "Damn." He lifted one of the plastic tarps, glancing behind it and recoiled quickly, "Aw geeze-" He backed up pulling Cal with him.

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing, look it's just," Dean pulled on the curious man's jacket, "you're better off not knowing."

"It's a dead body isn't it?" Cal's nose crinkled as he caught a wiff of the odor of rotting flesh.

"Yeah it's a dead body. Sam?" Dean glanced around the room, "Do you mind?"

Cal's head seemed to follow an invisible object across the room behind the tarp where the dead body lay. "Where's he going?"

"Check on the stiff, see what he can find out. He's got no sense of smell right now so it'll be easier on him." Dean explained.

Cal nodded and watched his friendly ghost's muted appearance behind the tarp. "So… what's the deal with him anyways?"

Dean frowned, "Who- Sam?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well he seems so… exhausted, I don't know. Like a lost little puppy or something."

Dean snorted, "A lost little puppy?" Dean shook his head holding down the laughter, "You are so flagrantly gay."

Cal's hands went to his hips. "And your point is?"

"Nothing." He pursed his lips trying not to smile, "Just do yourself a favor and don't ever tell him that to his face."

"You men are impossible." Cal sighed. "Seriously though, I've got a nose for these type of things, what's up with him?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Cal, the man is a ghost; his body is lying in a hospital room practically brain-dead and he's stuck with you as his only link to the living… and you wanna know why he's looking a little stressed?"

Cal's shoulders slumped. "Well when you put it that way." He focused on their topic of discussion who was still bent over the rotting corpse.

"His girlfriend was killed several months back," came a quiet admission.

Cal turned his gaze upon the older brother whose eyes didn't leave the tarp across the room, "How?"

"Same thing that killed our mother… a demon."

"That's horrible." He shook his head sincerely.

Dean took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably, "Sam! Would you hurry it up?"

After a few moments of silence, Dean turned his head to his cohort with an expectant look. Cal shrugged and shook his head in response. Dean frowned and his eyes traveled back to the hanging plastic. "Sam? …can you still see him?"

"Yeah, he's just sitting there."

"Sam? You wanna talk to me here?"

"He's calling you." Cal hurridly shoved the eldest brother forward; if the whole having his own personal ghost and hunting down monsters hadn't scared him enough as is… having his ghost go suddenly silent on him really made him nervous. He pulled his hankie out again, his eyes nervously scanning the surrounding room.

Dean slowly walked forward, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his jacket before slipping behind the tarp. He quickly scanned the side room, before settling on the rotting corpse. "What'd you find?"

"Why?" Cal's voice called a few seconds later from behind the hanging plastic; obviously responding to the youngest Winchester's answer. "Alright, alright; you don't have to be so pushy."

"Cal!" Dean called impatiently.

"He says to look up."

"Up?" Dean whispered to the air around him. He hated these moments; when you knew something was there you didn't want to see, but you have to look. His eyes slowly lifted. About five feet above him was the concrete ceiling of the second floor. Normal. What wasn't normal was the huge black smear covering a good portion of it; as if it had been burned. "Fire?" he asked, his eyes still roaming the ceiling.

"Whatever you asked, he said yes to." Cal called again.

Dean's eyes picked up on the areas where the black streaked out, as if the fire had licked the outer edges before pulling back into the center. Dean's wary eyes fell to the air in front of him. "What are you thinking Sam?" he asked quietly.

"Um… can you guys come back out here please? I'm getting a little freaked out."

Dean slowly backed out of the connected room, his eyes still drawn to the mysteriously discolored ceiling.

"What were you doing in there?" Cal asked impatiently.

Dean took one last look at the body, turned, and froze. Behind Cal stood an eight foot monster of a man, scraggly black and grey hair and beard covering most of the sickly grey, scarred face and yellow eyes. Cal looked like a child compared to the bulging form behind him. The monster raised its huge club of a hand, a broken piece of wood grasped between its fingers.

"CAL! Get down!" Dean ordered. The other man's eyes had widened and he was already half way down when Dean screamed at him, he guessed his brother had called out a warning too. Before the monster could bring his blunt weapon down, Dean raised his own and let off two shots. The salt embedded itself into the deformed man's chest and he roared, staggering backwards. Dean slid his other gun from the back of his pants and pulled off a few more shots of silver this time. Finally, Eddie, ex-delivery boy crumpled loudly to the floor, blood oozing from his fatal wounds. A high-pitched squealing filled the air, and it took Dean a moment to realize it was Cal… still rolling around on the floor covering his head.

"You alright?" Dean asked as he moved forward to make sure the monster was dead.

"No! I'm not alright! I was almost just killed ohmygawdohmygawd!"

"Would you get up?" Dean looked back at the hysterical blond man, "Knock it off, he's dead, you're fine."

Cal stumbled to his feet, and almost fell into the older Winchester. He grabbed firmly onto Dean's arm and pressed his face into his shoulder in relief. Dean cringed and tried to pull away. "Oh my gawd, I almost died! You saved my life! …is that Old Spice?" Dean shoved the sniffing man away.

"I am not beyond shooting you."

Cal looked for support from his other savior, "How is it you two are related- what's wrong? Sam?"

Dean's head swiveled around; alert once more. "What's going on?"

"Oh my gawd! Sam! Are you okay? Dean!"

"What!" Dean was at Cal's side, but he had no clue what to do. "What the hell's happening?"

"I don't know! He's writhing on the floor- he's screaming! Ohmygawd HELP HIM!"

"What the hell do you want me to do!" Dean growled helplessly. Nothing frustrated him more than feeling helpless and right now he was feeling pretty damn helpless. His brother, which he could neither, see, hear or feel was hurting in some way… but he was a spirit. It just didn't make sense.

Suddenly pieces of broken concrete and wooden planks began shifting. Dean dropped to the floor as a small chunk of concrete rocketed past his head and smashed into tiny pieces against the opposite wall.

"Oh my gawd, what's happening!" Cal's scream cut through the chaos.

"He's spiking." Dean whispered in sudden realization. He rolled over and looked to the area Cal was watching worriedly. "Sam!" He yelled above a board that snapped in half, each piece splintering in the air. "You're spiking! You need to calm down! Do you hear me!"

"He's what!" Cal covered his head as debris from an exploding piece of concrete fell on him.

"Sam!" Dean demanded. "Look at me!" He took a quick breath, never taking his eyes off the empty space in front of him. "Remember the time Dad left us home for an entire week? You were 9, and it was during the summer and we were staying in that broken down house." Dean was speaking quickly, trying to garner his brother's attention as plastic tarps rattled a whapped noisily against the walls. "You remember we were so bored, and there was nothing to do. And we found those paint cans in the basement. So we each took a couple cans and started painting the basement walls." He jerked his hand up to block a cascade of cement dust from another exploding rock. "I painted a huge AC/DC mural with guitars and cars and half-naked women and you-" a large board to their right split down the middle and exploded sending splinters every which way, "you painted an angel remember? It was the most god-awful painting of an angel I'd ever seen, but you had said it was how you pictured mom. And so I helped you put in some more details… fixed her up remember?" Dean's voice came through a bit more clearer as ever so slowly the storm and chaos around them began to die down. "And then we stopped and just looked at her, and you turned around and looked at my painting and then back at mom. And you made me paint some clothes on the naked women so mom wouldn't have to stare at it all day…" The freak storm ended. Dean swallowed, and took a few deep breaths, his eyes finally looking down to the floor in relief and more than a little embarrassed.

Cal sat silently by, eyes wide at the open display he'd just witnessed. He realized immediately that he'd just been let in on a very private moment in the lives of the Winchester's. He pursed his lips and tried very hard not to let the swell of emotions from the past day suddenly burst forth. The brothers wouldn't appreciate that.

"Cal?" Dean asked warily, his voice slightly shaken.

"He's okay, he just looks weak." His face suddenly went slack.

Dean's stomach twisted, "What?"

"He's gone." Cal's head shot up, searching the remaining Winchester's face. "He just disappeared!"

Dean's lips worked, trying to find words; his eyes roaming the area his brother had supposedly been.

"Where did he go?" Cal's voice was becoming near hysterical again. "What are we going to do!"

Dean pushed himself up off the floor. He scanned the room, swallowing the dry lump that had formed in his throat. His voice came as barely a whisper. "I don't know."

TBC…