The building was larger than they'd remembered, taking up most of the corner block. And the satellite on top looked like it was set up by NASA or the NSA. It certainly wasn't meant for just surfing through channels. At least no channels broadcasting from Earth.

Sam rung the doorbell. A the teenager from the picture online-the redheaded girl-opened the door. She gave them a sidelong glance, then yelled up the staircase behind her, "Hey Dad! The exterminators are here again!"

A gruff, but upbeat voice yelled back, "Good!" It grew louder as it descended the stairs. "Found those roaches again in the emergency ham…" The voice stopped as he got a look at the two men standing at his doorway. Of course, it was the family patriarch-Jack Fenton. Seeing their cameras and microphone equipment-stuff they'd picked up to complete the disguise-he laughed, slapping his daughter on the back. It was like a bear pawing a cat. "These aren't the exterminators!"

Dean leaned over and whispered in Sam's ear. "See, we could have been exterminators."

"It's too late for that." He whispered back. "Just go with the plan." Sam put on a smarmy grin.

"Good afternoon. My name is David Scully-"

"And I'm Fox Anderson." Dean interrupted with a firm handshake. Which the large man took. Dean felt like he had grabbed hold of a jackhammer.

Sam was shaking Jack's hand now. Pulling away, he wriggled his fingers discreetly-the feeling had gone out of them. "May I assume we're speaking with Dr. Jack Fenton?"

"Yes sir! You can assume that!"

Does this man only speak in exclamation points? Sam thought to himself. "Ah, I thought I recognized you from the photos!" He gave Dean the most sarcastic wink he'd ever seen.

"We're with the Minneapolis Monthly Paranormal Society." Dean held up a lanyard, an official looking press ID hanging from the end. (The lanyard was from a sports shop. The ID printed up at the local Kinkos.)

"We heard about your expertise in the field. And..." Sam paused, hoping the man would take the bait.

"Yes! Me and my wife have been researching ghosts since before little Jazz was born. Isn't that right, Jazz." He gave the teenager beside him a rough shake. She didn't answer her father. Like most teenagers, she looked perpetually embarrassed to be alive.

The silence lasted for about a minute before Sam broke. "Urm-ah, yes. As I was saying. We heard about your expertise and were wondering if you could give us an interview."

It was as if Sam had popped a balloon. All the bluster went out of the big man. "Ah, we don't usually make social calls. It's ah...hmn-something I'd have to run by my wife."

The redhead, Jazz, cleared things up. "Dad's not allowed to interview alone since the last February's Gazette exposé."

Dean mentally shifted through the Phenton articles he'd dug up this morning. "Oh, you mean 'Local Ghost Hunter Glues His-"

Jack Fenton quickly cut him off. "Yes, yes. The interview got a little out of hand and you know how those reporters can be. I mean, you should know! You're reporters yourselves! Anyway, I've got lots of important work to do. You know," he gave a nervous laugh, "important science work! Now if you could just-" Dr. Fenton was trying to slam the door in their faces as politely as possible. Too friendly to kick us out, though Dean. But shutting the door was difficult-since Dean had wedged his foot between the door and it's frame. Alongside Sam's arm. Things were getting tight.

Jack Fenton was too good-natured to kick them out, outright. Sam sensed the weakness and stalled for time, "Sir, if we could just have a few minutes to talk about the recent ghost activity…"

"I'd love to boys, but I can't just let a couple of strangers into my home..."

"But sir-"

Dean cut him off. "If the man doesn't feel comfortable doing an interview without his wife, don't force the man."

"Hey, I never said I couldn't interview without Maddie-"

Dean pushed on. "We thank you for your time sir." He turned back a little, as if he were going to talk to Sam. "I just hope the Ghostfacers aren't too disappointed."

Jack Fenton's eyes went wide. "You know...You're acquainted with… the Ghostfacers?" Behind the man, the Winchesters saw his daughter rolling her eyes, throwing her arms up in defeat, and mouthing Merciful God.

Sam felt like giving Dean a high-five. (After leaving the Fentons, he did.) So that's what Dean had been struggling over. He rolled with the bluff that wasn't a bluff. "We've had… business with them in the past." Sam figured the more vague, the better.

Dean had resigned himself to the charade. "They're the ones that pointed us in your direction. Mentioned seeing an article about you."

"O I bet it was last year's Christmas spectre recipes! I told Madeline it appealled to the Ghostfacer demographic!."

Dean snapped his fingers and gave his best disingenuous smile. "That's the one!" Sam would have to make a call to Harry and Ed so they could back them up on this. 'Cause all of this was coming out of Dean's ass.

Jack Fenton was nearly bursting with excitement. "Well, I told Madeline I wouldn't be bringing any more journalists in. But the Ghostfacers..." They saw the big guy smile. Then suddenly both the Winchester brothers were being lifted into a bear hug. "Well the Ghostfacers are practically family!"