June 7th - June 13th, 2006
Dean and I were jamming out to Blue Öyster Cult on our way to our next case, while Sam slept with his mouth hanging open. Dean looked over at Sam, and mischief crossed his face. He reached over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a plastic spoon.
I leaned forward and whispered, "What are you doing?"
Dean smirked and whispered back, "Just watch." He reached over and gently placed the spoon in Sam's mouth. He grinned and flipped open his phone, took a picture, and then turned the music up. "Fire... of unknown origins... took my baby away!" he sang along, loudly.
Sam jerked awake, realized there was something in his mouth, thrashed his arms around, and spit out the spoon.
Dean air drummed along to the song and grinned over at Sam, laughing. I laughed along with him.
Sam wiped his mouth and turned down the music. "Ha. Ha. very funny."
Dean laughed. "Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own."
Sam sighed. "Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again."
"Start what up?" Dean asked.
"That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates," Sam said, angrily.
"Aw, what's the matter, Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?" Dean chuckled.
Sam shook his head. "All right, just remember you started it."
"Ah-ha, bring it on, baldy." Dean laughed.
"I'm safe, right?" I asked, not wanting to be involved.
Dean laughed. "Yeah, you're safe. Sammy, on the other hand..."
Sam shook his head, "Where are we anyway?"
"A few hours outside of Richardson. Gimme the lowdown again?" Dean asked.
Sam snatched a newspaper off of the dashboard and began reading. "All right, about a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house."
"Haunted by what?" Dean asked.
"Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar," Sam said.
"Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean asked.
"Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So, cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "Maybe the cops are right."
"Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere," Sam said.
"Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean asked.
Sam hesitated. "Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local..." He cleared his throat. "Paranormal websites. And I found one."
Dean glanced over at Sam. "And what's it called."
" ," Sam said.
Dean sighed. "Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, probably."
"Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter," Dean said.
Sam shook his head. "Look. We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out."
"All right. So, where do we find these kids?" Dean asked.
"Same place you always find kids in a small town like this," Sam said.
We pulled up in front of a fast food place called Rodeo Drive. Sam and Dean said they were interviewing the kids for a local newspaper.
The first guy we talked to said that the house was the scariest thing he had ever seen and that the walls were painted red, that there were 'pentagons' drawn all over. He also said that the dead girl they found was blonde and still kicking.
The second guy we spoke to said that the walls were painted black, and there were crosses, stars, and "penta... costals" drawn all over. He said that the dead girl had black hair and wasn't moving. He also said, "she was kinda hot, in a dead sort of way." I wasn't too sure what he meant by that, and I wasn't sure he knew either.
The girl we talked to said that the walls were covered in blood, but she had her eyes closed the whole time, so she wasn't too sure. She said the dead girl had red hair and was just hanging there.
Although they didn't agree on much, they all agreed that the girl was definitely real, and they all found the place because of their friend Craig. So, we asked if they knew where Craig might be, and they told us he was working at the music shop down the street.
As we walked in, a teenage boy behind the counter spoke up, "Can I help you with anything?"
"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked.
"I am." Craig nodded.
"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam," Dean said and then pointed to me. "And this is Maddison, an aspiring journalist from the local junior-high."
"No way. Well, I'm a writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine." Craig smiled at me.
"Well, good for you, Morrison," Dean said.
"Um, we're doing an article on local hauntings, and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam said.
"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked, now sorting through some records.
"That's the one," Dean said.
"I didn't think there was anything to the story," Craig said.
"Why don't you tell us the story?" Sam asked.
Craig sighed. "Well, supposedly back in the '30s, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end." He walked back behind the counter.
"How?" Sam asked as he walked up to Craig.
Dean and I listened while going through some of the records.
Craig continued, "Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death... so, he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop, but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."
"Where'd you hear all this?" Dean asked, turning, and walking up to Craig. I followed behind.
"My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I— I didn't believe this for a second," Craig said.
"But now you do," Sam said.
Craig shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I— I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to god, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?"
Dean nodded. "Thanks."
With that, we left the music shop and headed off to the Hell House.
We walked up a muddy path to a creepy abandoned house, I was surprised Dean let me come, but I wasn't going to argue.
"Can't say I blame the kid," Sam said, looking up to the house.
"Yeah, so much for curb appeal," Dean said sarcastically.
Dean got out the EMF meter, and we searched the outside of the house for a few minutes. He started tapping the EMF meter, so Sam and I walked over to him.
"You got something?" Sam asked.
"Yeah. The EMF's no good," Dean said.
"Why?" Sam asked.
Dean gestured to the overhead power lines. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."
Sam sighed. "Yeah, that'd do it."
"Yeah. Come on, let's go," Dean said and gestured to the house.
When we walked in, the walls weren't painted black or red, and they definitely weren't covered in blood, but there were symbols spray-painted all over the walls.
Dean whistled, looking around. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger here in his time."
"And after his time too. That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s," Sam said, pointing around to different symbols.
Dean stared at Sam. "That is exactly why you never get laid."
I made a disgusted face at Dean.
He shrugged and then pointed to another symbol. "Hey, what about this one, you seen this one before?"
Sam shook his head. "No."
"That actually looks really familiar," I said, confused.
Dean looked at me and nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought too."
Sam walked up and rubbed the symbol. "It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too."
Dean looked around. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but... the cops may be right about this one."
Sam sighed. "Yeah, maybe."
I jumped when there was a sudden crashing sound in one of the other rooms. Sam and Dean were now on alert. Dean grabbed my hand, and we all walked up to the door. Sam stood on one side and Dean on the other, making me stand behind him. They both nodded at each other and then kicked the door open at the same time.
"Oh, cut! It's just a coupla humans!" a man yelled in the other room.
I walked over and peered through the door at two men who were shining their flashlights at Sam and Dean.
"What are you people doing here?" the man with glasses asked.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asked.
The guy with glasses laughed. "We belong here, we're professionals."
I smirked.
"Professional what?" Dean asked.
"Paranormal Investigators." The man with glasses handed us business cards. "There you go, take a look at that."
I looked down at the card, it had each of their pictures on it. Ed Zeddmore was the man with glasses, and his friend was Harry Spengler, under their pictures was their website, .
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Dean said.
"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? . You guys run that website?" Sam asked.
Ed nodded proudly. "Yeah."
"Oh yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically, walking past them to look around the room.
"And uh, we know who you guys are, too," Ed said.
We all looked at each other, slightly concerned.
"Oh yeah?" Sam asked.
"Amateurs," Ed said, "Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."
"Yup. So, if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here," Harry said.
"Yeah, what have you got so far?" Dean asked.
"Harry, why don'tcha tell 'em about EMF?" Ed asked.
Harry cleared his throat. "Well—"
"EMF?" I asked, playing dumb, trying to let my brothers look around the room in peace.
"Electromagnetic field." Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF meter. Like this bad boy right here," he said as he turned on his EMF. "Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg," he said excitedly.
"Is that good?" I asked, knowing that it really meant nothing.
Ed smirked. "Is that good? 2.8. It's hot in here."
Dean whistled.
"Wow," Sam said.
"Huh. So, you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or...?" Dean asked.
Ed nodded. "Once. We were, uh... we were investigating this old house, and we saw a vase fall right off the table—"
Harry's eyes got big. "By itself."
"Well, we— we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that... it uh— it changes you," Ed said.
"Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work," Dean said.
"Yeah, you should," Ed said.
"Sam. Maddi." Dean nodded at us to leave, so we did.
"Yeah, work," Ed said as we walked out. "I'm sorry. That pot we smoked gave me the giggles."
Sam and I went to do some research in the local library while Dean looked around town for any more information he could find on the house, Mordechai, or the girl who had died. Once we felt like we had found enough information, Sam and I left the library and saw Dean walking up to us.
"Hey," Sam said.
"Hey. What you got?" Dean asked.
"Well we couldn't find a Mordechai, but we did find a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the '30s," Sam said, "He did have children—"
"But only two of them, both boys, and there isn't any evidence that he ever killed anyone," I said.
"Huh," Dean said.
"What about you?" Sam asked.
Dean turned and started walking toward the car, we followed. "Well, those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons. It's like she never existed." He shook his head. "Dude, come on, we did our digging, man, this one's a bust all right. For all, we know those Hell Hound boys made up the whole thing."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, all right."
"I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legend to the locals," Dean said and got into the Impala.
I groaned, not wanting to go to a bar, but before I got in the car, Sam put his hand out, blocking me from getting in. Then suddenly, when the engine started, loud music blasted out of the car, and the windshield wipers turned on.
Sam started laughing.
"Whoa! What the!" Dean yelled.
Sam got in the car, and I followed. Sam held up a finger and then pointed to himself, smiling at Dean.
Dean gave him a dirty look. "That's all you got? That's weak. That is bush league." Then he pulled away from the curb and drove off.
Sam and Dean left me at the motel for a few hours the next morning after there was news of another girl's death at the Hell House.
Later that night, I convinced Dean to let me go with them when they searched the house again, but I knew it wouldn't be easy to convince him to let me go in with them.
We parked the car where we had before, and Sam and Dean opened their doors to get out.
"Wait," I said before they got out.
"Yeah?" they asked in unison.
"Can I please go in with you?" I asked, giving them puppy dog eyes.
Dean sighed. "Fine, but only 'cause I'm still not convinced this thing is real."
"Yes!" I shouted and quickly got out.
"Dean, you sure that's a good idea? Whatever this is, it only goes after girls," Sam said as we walked down the path.
"Man, this thing isn't real," Dean said.
Sam sighed. "Maddi, just stay close."
"Wait, wait. Do you guys hear that?" Dean asked.
I listened carefully and could hear talking. "Look." I pointed ahead to lights shimmering through the trees.
Dean crouched down, ducked behind a bush, and waved Sam and me over.
Looking through the bush, we could see two police officers watching over the house.
"I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there," Sam said.
"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," Dean said, and then something caught his eye. "I don't believe it."
Sam and I turned to see Ed and Harry sneaking up to the house, covered in gadgets that made them look like they walked straight out of Ghostbusters.
"I got an idea," Dean said. He stood up slightly and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Who ya gonna call!" Then he hid again.
"Wha— Huh?" Ed and Harry asked, looking around confused.
"Hey! You!" the police officers yelled.
Ed and Harry ran, and the police officers chased after them. "Freeze. Come on! Get back here. Hey!"
Once they were out of sight, we all ran into the house. Sam pulled rifles out of a bag he had been carrying and handed one to Dean.
"I thought you said you didn't think this thing was real," I said to Dean.
"Never hurts to be prepared. stay close," Dean said and pointed his flashlight at the familiar symbol. "Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!"
"Come on, we don't have much time," Sam said, walking down the stairs into the basement.
I followed behind Sam while Dean trailed us.
Down in the basement, there were jars filled with weird, gooey liquids. Dean picked one up. "Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this."
"What the hell would I do that for?" Sam asked.
Dean shook the jar and stared at it for a second. "I double dare you."
Sam shook his head and looked away. Then a noise came from one of the cabinets against the wall. He turned to the cabinet, readying his rifle.
Dean nodded to me to get behind him and then readied his. Sam opened the door, and a rat ran out of the cabinet.
Dean lifted his feet as it ran by. "Ah! I hate rats."
"You'd rather it was a ghost?" Sam asked.
"Yes," Dean said.
I looked up from the rats and gasped. "Sam!" A man was standing behind him with an ax raised above his head.
Sam and Dean reacted, Sam shot his rifle at Mordechai twice, but it didn't faze him. Dean shot him once more, and he finally misted away.
"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam asked.
"I dunno. Come on. Come on! Come on!" Dean urged us to run out of the basement and out of the house.
As we ran by one of the shelves with jars on it, an ax smashed through, causing Dean to dodge the glass and wood. Then Mordechai turned to me and swung, but Sam caught the handle. Mordechai pulled back and swung at Sam, but missed and hit a breaker box which exploded with electricity.
"Go! Get outta here!" Sam yelled.
I ran up the stairs. I felt a hand on my back, pushing me faster up the stairs and realized it was Dean.
Once we reached the ground floor, we all smashed into the front door, breaking it open and falling to the ground. Sam grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me up.
Then we continued running to the Impala, passing by Ed and Harry, who were recording the whole event.
"Get that damn thing outta my face!" Dean yelled.
"Go, go, go!" Sam yelled at them.
Ed gasped. "Sweet Lord—"
"Of the rings. Run! Go! Go! Go!" Harry yelled.
Back at the motel, Sam and Dean sat down to research more. I decided to jump in the shower to wash off the splatter from those nasty jars.
While washing my hair in the warm water, I had a sudden realization of where that symbol had come from, it was the logo for Blue Öyster Cult. How did that make sense, though?
My train of thought was cut off when I looked down and realized the water was bright blue.
"What the!" I screamed and jumped out of the shower.
I wrapped a towel around me and burst through the door to see Sam and Dean laughing.
"Well, isn't it little miss Smurfette." Dean laughed.
I looked in the mirror and realized my skin was streaked blue.
"Are you kidding me?! You guys did this?!" I yelled angrily.
They continued laughing.
"This better not stain!" I yelled and slammed the bathroom door.
I could still hear them laughing outside when I turned the shower back on. I waited for all the blue to run out, and then I finished taking a freezing shower.
When I got out, I looked in the mirror to see that my skin was still dyed blue, although it was lighter, you could still see it.
I got dressed and walked out of the bathroom. "I don't hate you guys, but I very much dislike you right now."
Dean looked up at me and chuckled. "Oh, I didn't realize Kool-Aid would stain like that."
"Yeah, whatever. You guys are jerks." I sat down on the bed next to Dean, who had been sketching the Blue Öyster Cult logo.
"Aw, come on, Mads. It'll come off..." Sam smirked slightly. "Eventually."
"You guys said I was safe. You lied." I crossed my arms. "You better watch your backs." I pointed at each of them.
"Ooo, we're shaking in our boots." Dean smirked.
Sam laughed.
Dean looked down at his sketch and groaned. "What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."
"It does," Sam said.
"All right. Well, I mean, that explains why he went after you two, but why me?" Dean asked.
"Hilarious," Sam said, "The legend also says he hung himself, but did you see those slit wrists?"
"Yeah." Dean nodded.
"What's up with that? And the ax too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over," Sam said.
Dean sighed. "But, this mook keeps changing."
"Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes..." Sam realized something. "Wait a minute."
"What?" Dean asked.
"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity," Sam said.
"Huh," Dean said.
"So, I think I figured out what that symbol is," I said.
Sam and Dean looked up at me.
"It's the Blue Öyster Cult logo," I said.
A big smile spread across Dean's face, and he put his hand up. "Yes, good thinking, kid."
I gave him a high-five and smiled.
"I don't know where this is going, but I think we might have just figured out where it all started," Dean said.
The next morning, we got up and left for the music store, we needed to talk to Craig. When we walked in, he was sitting behind the counter, looking depressed.
"Hey, Craig? Remember us?" Dean asked.
"Look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?" Craig asked.
"Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all," Dean said, flicking through some albums. "You know we couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then we realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Öyster Cult." He turned to Craig. "Tell me, Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now, why don't ya tell us about that house... without lying through your ass this time."
Craig sighed. "All right, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Uh, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So, I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So, we painted symbols on the walls, some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we— we made up some story to go along with that. So, we told people who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I— I thought it was funny at first but... now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, ya know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!"
"All right," Sam said softly.
We all turned and left.
"If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?" Dean asked.
When we got back to the motel, Sam went to take a shower. As soon as he did, Dean said he needed to go out and get something.
He returned shortly after. He walked over to Sam's bed and pulled something out of his pocket.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I bought some itching powder," Dean said as he picked up Sam's underwear and sprinkled some powder into them.
"So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on," Sam said from the bathroom.
"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, still shaking the powder.
"What if Mordechai is a tulpa?" Sam suggested.
"Tulpa?" Dean asked.
Sam came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. "Yeah, a Tibetan thought-form."
Dean hastily swung around, hiding the packet of powder behind his back. "Uh, yeah, I know what a tulpa is. Hey why don't you get dressed, I wanna go grab something to eat."
He walked into the bathroom and watched as Sam walked over to his clothes, winking at me before closing the door.
We went to Rodeo Drive to get out of the motel and do more research. Dean handed me my tea and carried his and Sam's coffee over to a table. Sam kept awkwardly and uncomfortably adjusting his pants as he walked.
"Dude, what's your problem?" Dean asked.
"Nothing, I'm fine," Sam said.
We sat down.
"Yeah?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam said.
"So, ah, all right. What about these tulpas?" Dean asked.
"Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "So?"
"That was twenty monks. Imagine what 10,000 web surfers could do. I mean Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard," Sam said while opening his laptop.
"Now, wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged and adjusted himself. "I dunno, maybe."
"People believe in Santa Claus... how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?" Dean asked.
Sam laughed. "Well, 'cause you're a bad person."
"Wait, Santa's not real?" I asked sadly.
Dean's face went white when he looked at me. "Oh, uh. I mean, of course, Santa is real..." He cleared his throat and looked at Sam for help. "I just meant—"
I laughed. "Calm down, I'm just messing with you."
Dean frowned, still looking nervous.
"And because of this..." Sam turned his laptop. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house, Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai... I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a tulpa to life."
Dean nodded. "It would explain why he keeps changing."
Sam grimaced and adjusted himself again. "Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."
"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean said.
"Yeah." Sam nodded, still fidgeting.
"Okay. So why don't we just... uh... get this spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?" Dean asked.
"Well, it's not that simple. You see, once tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own," Sam said.
Dean sighed. "Great. So, if he really is a thought-form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"
"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage," Sam said, still itching. "Since they've posted the video, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."
"Hmm. I got an idea. Come on," Dean said, getting up.
"Where we going?" Sam asked, getting up.
"We gotta find a copy store," Dean explained.
I got up and followed.
"Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something," Sam said, itching and adjusting.
Dean laughed.
"You did this?" Sam asked angrily.
"Good, I was starting to feel bad," I said.
Sam looked down at me. "You knew about this too?"
I just shrugged, and Dean laughed.
Sam looked at Dean. "You're a friggin' jerk!"
"Oh yeah." Dean chuckled.
We found a copy store in town, and on the drive over, Sam typed up a death certificate for Mordechai so that the Hell Hound guys would put it on their website.
Once we got there, we printed out the paper and headed off to Ed and Harry's trailer.
We drove into the trailer park and asked for some directions from a man walking by, and he pointed us to Ed and Harry's trailer. Dean parked the car, we all got out and knocked on their door.
We could hear some movement and voices, but no one was answering.
"Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there," Dean said.
They stuck their heads out of the door and slowly opened it.
"Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging... what a shock," Dean said sarcastically.
"Guys, we need to talk," Sam said.
"Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're uh, a little bit busy right now," Ed said.
"Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website," Dean said.
Ed laughed. "Man, you know, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell—"
Harry spoke up, "I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright."
"Why should we trust you?" Ed asked and then looked at me. "Are you cold or something? Your skin is a little blue."
I sighed. "It's a long story."
Sam sighed. "Look, guys. We all know what we saw last night, what's in the house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai."
Dean nodded. "That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt."
"Yeah, yeah..." Ed rolled his eyes.
Harry sighed. "Ed maybe he's got a point, maybe—"
Ed shook his head. "Nope..."
"No," Harry agreed.
"We have an obligation to our fans... to the truth," Ed said.
Dean shrugged. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now—"
"Dean... Dean, hey, hey, just, forget it, all right? These guys..." Sam sighed. "You could probably bitch slap them both, I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai... but they're still not gonna help us. Let's just go."
"Whoa... whoa..." Ed and Harry said.
"Yeah, you're right," Dean said.
We started walking away, and Ed and Harry followed.
"What'd you say about...?" Ed asked.
"Hang on a second here," Harry said.
"Wait... wait," Ed said.
"What thing about Mordechai, you guys?" Harry asked.
"Don't tell 'em, Sam," Dean said.
"But if they agree to shut the website down, Dean," Sam said.
"They're not going to do it, you said so yourself," Dean said.
"No, wait. Wait. Don't listen to him, okay? We'll do it. We'll do it," Ed called after us desperately.
"It's a secret, Sam," Dean said.
We stopped at the Impala, Sam turned to Ed and Harry. "Look, it is a really big deal, all right. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down."
Ed nodded. "Totally."
"All right," Sam said, nodding at Dean.
Dean handed the death certificate to them.
"It's a death certificate from the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound," Sam said.
"That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself," Dean said.
"He shot himself?" Ed asked, reading the certificate.
Sam nodded. "Yup. With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them."
"Matter of fact they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds... it'll kill the son of a bitch," Dean said.
Ed and Harry snickered gleefully. Harry spun around and ran back toward their trailer. Ed followed more slowly.
"Harry. Slow your roll buddy. They're gonna know we're excited," Ed called.
I watched them running off like a couple of excited kids coming back from trick or treating. "They aren't very smooth, are they."
We went back to the motel, so Sam could finally get himself cleaned up. Dean decided he wanted to take a shower too because he said it was going to be a long night.
As soon as the shower turned on, I started looking through his stuff for the other packet of itching powder that I knew he had hidden.
"What are you looking for?" Sam asked.
"I know he has more itching powder somewhere," I said, moving from his bag to his jacket.
"Why do you need that?" Sam laughed.
"You'll see." I smirked as I pulled the packet out of his jacket pocket. I walked over and grabbed Dean's deodorant out of his bag.
Then the water shut off. "Hurry up," Sam said.
"I know, I know." I quickly pulled the cap off, ripped the packet open, and sprinkled some powder over the deodorant. I popped the lid back on and tossed his deodorant back into his bag.
I grabbed Dad's journal and hopped onto the bed, opening the journal to a random page. Just in time for Dean to walk out, fully dressed, and ready to go.
Dean walked over to his bag and pulled his deodorant out. I cringed behind the journal, hoping he wouldn't look at it before he put it on. I was relieved when he just put the deodorant on and tossed it back into his bag.
"Okay, you guys ready to go?" Dean asked, grabbing his jacket, and walking over to the door.
Sam and I exchanged a smirk and then followed Dean out of the motel. We drove to a local café to wait for Ed and Harry to upload the new information to their website. Dean began periodically, itching his armpits throughout the drive.
We ordered two beers, a tea, and some food. We sat in a booth, and I sat on the inside next to Sam. Dean, unfortunately, sat on the other side next to an annoying 3D fisherman that would laugh every time you pulled its cord. He thought it was hilarious.
Sam reached forward and put his hand on the fisherman to stop it from laughing for about the tenth time. "If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you."
Dean stared blankly at Sam and pulled the cord again. I groaned, and Sam just glared at him.
Dean snickered and itched his armpits. "Come on, guys, you need more laughter in your lives. Ya know, you're way too tense."
Sam and I looked at each other and then gave Dean dirty looks.
Dean sighed, itching his armpits again. "They post it yet?"
Sam moved his laptop so Dean could read and then stabbed angrily at his salad.
"We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms," Dean read and itched his armpits again. "Dude, I think I might be getting a rash or something." He leaned forward and whispered, "My armpits were really itchy, and now they just sting."
I leaned forward with a smirk on my face and whispered back, "Try again."
Sam laughed.
Dean sat up. "You did this?"
"I told you not to mess with me, and you did," I said.
Sam laughed.
I looked at Sam. "I don't know what you're laughing about, I haven't got you yet."
Sam smirked at me, and I laughed.
"All right, you got me." Dean itched his armpits. "But it's not that funny, it actually kinda hurts now. I'm gonna try to go clean this up." He got up and started walking toward the bathroom.
"Come on, Dean," I called out, "You need more laughter in your life. You're way too tense."
"Ha, ha," Dean called back and then walked into the bathroom.
Sam reached down and pulled something out of his pocket and then grabbed Dean's beer.
"Uh, oh. What are you doing now?" I asked.
Sam smirked. "Putting super glue on his beer bottle."
"Ooo, he isn't gonna like getting two in a row." I laughed.
Sam laughed and squirted super glue all over Dean's beer.
Dean came back shortly after. "All right. How long do we wait?"
"Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker." Sam held his beer out to Dean, who held his out and tapped Sam's
"Sweet." Dean smiled and then took a long sip, but when he tried to put down his bottle, he realized it was stuck to his hand.
Sam and I started laughing.
"You didn't," Dean said.
Sam held up the superglue and shook it. "Oh, I did!"
Dean shook his hand while Sam laughed, I reached forward and pulled the fisherman's cord which started laughing, making Sam laugh harder.
"No, see. I don't like this," Dean said, pointing to Sam and me with his bottle hand.
"What?" Sam and I asked in unison.
"You two teaming up," Dean said and then pointed to me. "You're supposed to be my mini-me."
I stuck my bottom lip out and mocked Dean. "Aw, is somebody jealous."
Dean shook his head. "No, it's just not right."
"You'll be okay, Dean." I smirked. "Now, how are you going to get that off?"
"Like this," Dean said and tugged at it until it came off and then groaned. "Really? I have like no skin left on my palm now."
"I'm not going to touch that line with a ten-foot pole," Sam said.
Dean gave Sam a dirty look and stood up. "Let's go." He leaned forward with his jacket and looked around to see if anyone was watching.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm taking this little guy." Dean put his jacket over the fisherman and carefully pulled it off the wall, wrapping it in his coat.
Sam and I stood up and got out of the booth.
"Really?" Sam asked.
"Yup," Dean said and put his hand on my shoulder so I would walk in front of him to help cover the lump in his jacket.
We drove to the Hell House and waited until night. Once it was, Sam and Dean got out.
As I opened my door to get out, Dean shut it. "You're staying here."
"What? No. You let me go before," I argued.
"Yeah, but now we know this thing is real and very dangerous," Dean said and pointed into the car. "Can you hand me that fisherman thing?"
I reached over and grabbed it. "For what?"
"Distraction." Dean smiled and then turned away. "Stay in the car, I'm serious."
I watched as they walked away and then sat back. A few minutes later, I heard rustling and talking down the path. I looked over and saw Ed and Harry walking toward the house with flashlights.
I quickly got out and ran up to them. "What are you guys doing?"
Harry jumped a mile, and Ed turned to look at me. "Harry, calm down. It's just the blue girl."
I groaned. "My name is Maddison."
"Where are those guys you hang out with?" Ed asked and then turned to continue walking.
I walked after them. "Those guys are my brothers. Look, you guys should really just go back home."
Ed laughed. "And why's that?"
"'Cause it's dangerous," I said as we walked into the back door of the house, into a kitchen.
"Like you know anything about danger, have you ever even been on a ghost hunt? Your brothers left you in the car, so I'm guessing, no," Ed said, "Harry, why is she still following us?"
"I'm not sure." Harry shrugged.
"Me either," Ed said.
Then Sam and Dean burst through the door in front of us, pointing their guns and flashlights at us.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Ed yelled.
"What are you trying to do, get yourselves killed?" Sam asked.
"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?" Ed asked.
"Maddison, what the hell are you doing?" Dean asked.
"I feel like that's your favorite thing to say," I said.
"Go back to the car," Dean said sternly.
Suddenly there was a scraping sound coming from the next room, Sam and Dean spun around, pointing their guns at the door.
"Oh, crap," Ed said.
Ed pointed his camera at the door. "Uh guys, you wanna— you wanna open that door for us?"
"Why don't you?" Dean asked.
Mordechai burst through the door, holding an ax, and screaming maniacally. Sam and Dean emptied their guns into him. He held solid, then flickered, and then disappeared into a mist. They waited for a second, then took off to make sure the other rooms were clear.
"Oh, god. He's gone. He's gone," Ed said, upset.
"Did you get him?" Harry asked Ed.
"Yeah, they got him." Ed sighed.
"No, on camera, did you get him on camera?" Harry asked.
"Uh— Uh, I— I—" Ed stuttered.
"Let me see it, let me see it." Harry took the camera from Ed.
Mordechai appeared and smashed his ax through the camera, throwing Harry to the ground and disappeared again.
I put my hand out to Harry and helped him get up as best as I could. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, and then Dean ran in. "Hey! Didn't you guys post that B.S. story we gave you?"
"Of course, we did." Ed nodded.
Sam ran back into the room.
"But then our server crashed," Harry said.
"Yeah." Ed sighed.
"So, it didn't take?" Dean asked.
"Uh... um..." Ed and Harry mumbled.
"So, these— these guns don't work," Dean said, frustrated.
"Yeah," Ed said.
"Great. Sam, any ideas?" Dean asked.
"We are getting outta here," Ed said.
"Yeah. Come on, Ed," Harry said, grabbing Ed's arm.
"Good. Go with them, Maddison." Dean pointed.
I ran after Harry and Ed, who screamed as Mordechai appeared next to us.
"Go! Go! Go!" I pushed them toward the entrance.
Ed tried to open the door, but it was locked.
I picked up a metal candlestick sitting on a small table. "Move!" I began smashing the window on the door, but it was like something was stopping it from breaking.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Harry said.
"The power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you!" Ed screamed.
"Hey! Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch," Sam called from behind Mordechai.
Mordechai turned around fighting with Sam, until he pinned Sam against the wall, with the handle of the ax to his throat.
"Get out of here, now!" Sam yelled.
"We're out of here," Ed said, and then he and Harry ran past Sam and Mordechai.
Mordechai slowly lifted Sam off of the ground. I ripped the curtain down from the window and threw it over Mordechai's head, wrapping it around his neck and tugging as hard as I could.
"Dean!" I yelled.
Sam gasped. "Maddison run."
"No." I kept tugging, but the only thing it accomplished was getting a backhand across the face and being thrown to the ground. "Dean!"
"Hey!" Dean appeared at the end of the hallway, holding up an aerosol can and a lighter. Once Mordechai turned his attention to Dean, he let go of Sam, and he blew flames at him. "Go, go, go!"
Sam and I ran past Dean. Sam leaned against the wall grasping his throat. I put my hand up to my lip, which was now swollen and bleeding.
Sam reached up and touched my face, but I pushed his hand away. "I'm fine."
Dean ran out of the room and urged Sam and me to run. "Mordechai can't leave the house... we can't kill him... we improvise." He flicked his lighter and threw it back into the room Mordechai was in. The room burst into flames, and we all ran outside.
We ran up to some bushes and stood behind them, watching the house burn and Mordechai standing on the front porch.
"That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?" Sam asked.
"Well, nobody will go in anymore. I mean look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works," Dean said.
"Well, what if the legend changes again, and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?" Sam asked.
Dean sighed. "Well... well, then we'll just have to come back."
We watched the house burn for a few moments.
Sam sighed. "Yeah, it kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we've hunted, how many existed just 'cause people believed in them?"
The next night we went back to Ed and Harry's trailer park to say goodbye and make sure they would stay out of trouble.
We waited outside of their trailer for them to come back, it was hooked up to their car, packed, and ready to go. They walked past us, carrying grocery bags.
"I was thinking that Mordechai has a really super high attack bonus," Harry said.
"Man, I got the munchies right now." Ed sighed and looked at us. "Gentleman... Maddison."
"Hey, guys," Sam said.
"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asked.
"Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades," Ed said.
"So, this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer," Harry explained.
"Oh yeah, wrong number?" Dean asked.
"No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it," Ed said.
"And create the RPG," Harry said.
"The what?" Dean asked.
"Role-playing game," Ed said.
"Right." Dean nodded.
"A little lingo for you. Anyhoo, uh, excuse us, we're off to la-la land," Ed said, opening his car door.
"Well, good luck guys, I'm sure you'll do great," I said.
"See, she gets it," Harry said.
I shrugged. "Eh, not really. I'm just being nice."
Sam laughed. "No, but seriously guys, congratulations. That sounds really great."
"Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you," Dean said.
"Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent," Ed said.
Ed and Harry climbed into their overstuffed car.
"Later." Ed waved, and they pulled away. "See ya around..."
"Wow," Dean said.
"I have a confession to make," Sam said.
"What's that?" Dean asked.
"I, uh... I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer." Sam smirked.
Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat."
We all laughed and got into the Impala.
Sam opened his laptop, causing the blue Kool-Aid packet I had rigged to explode in his face. He started coughing and was covered in blue powder.
I started laughing so hard I fell over in the back seat. "I'm so happy that worked."
"Truce?" Sam coughed.
"Yeah, truce. At least for the next one-hundred miles." Dean laughed, he started the Impala, and we drove off.
