Extra long chapter today! Somewhat to make up for the fact that there's no new episode tonight. I took my brother to a bday party a few weeks back and this is where the chapter came from. I've still got all your wonderful requests stored, don't worry :) Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoy!
Set in mid-season 3. I don't own anything.
"This has got to be one of the weirdest things we've ever burned."
"Seriously? What, the dead bodies and skeletons and remains aren't enough for you?"
"No, yes, that's weird, but a different type. This," Dean waved his hand towards the aforementioned 'weirdest thing', "is like a normal weird, which makes it weird. It's not a hex bag or a skeleton or a building, it's a freaking foosball table."
Sam looked between the burning pieces of wood and his brother before he smirked, seeing what Dean was getting at. "No super weird smell, that's an upside."
"Amen to that. Ghosts should attach themselves to normal objects more often," Dean nodded in agreement.
They were standing in the parking lot behind an arcade. A few streetlights were on, but other than that and the fire burning and winding down at their feet, there was no other light. The owner of the shop was still inside and trying to come to terms with the fact that ghosts were real and one had been haunting his place of business, making the electronic arcade games fritz and electrocute several people.
The ghost in question was only in his early twenties when he had died and had apparently played at the foosball table quite often earlier in his life to escape his parents' divorce. It sucked as a backstory, really, even to the Winchesters, that his spirit got stuck to some of his happiest memories, which were made playing at a wooden table with some handles and a few of his friends. Still, that didn't make it okay that he started killing people as soon as the table was moved outside, set to be demolished to make room for more electronic games.
Sad backstories sucked, but multiple deaths were worse.
They watched the flames for a few more minutes before stomping out what remained of the embers, the spirit having been put to rest. Thankfully, both Sam and Dean hadn't gotten more than a few light shocks, and were unharmed compared to what their typical cases did to them. Maybe if the ghost had spent longer stuck to his object…but it was done now, no sense in going over it.
"We should probably check in on Ron, make sure he hasn't hyperventilated enough to pass out," Dean said as he kicked charred wood pieces off his boots. Not everyone handled learning about the paranormal as well as the Winchesters.
Sam did the same and eventually followed his brother back inside, not missing the way his head turned to look at the glowing 'laser tag' sign high up on the wall with an arrow pointing to the other side of the arcade.
The thought made him smile, but it was one in the morning, they were beat, and a shower to get rid of the smoke smell sounded like a good idea.
"Heya, Ron," Dean greeted as they came up on the counter. The man thankfully had gotten himself under control, but was standing with his elbows on the glass and his head in his hands. He looked up immediately when they got closer.
"Is it done? Is he gone?" he asked hurriedly. His eyes scanned the room as if the spirit were walking in behind them.
Sam put out a hand to hopefully steady any remaining nerves. "We took care of it, the arcade is safe, I promise."
Ron's shoulders noticeably sagged with relief. "So…burning the table…set it free?"
Dean nodded.
"And where does it go?"
"Buddy, trust me, you don't wanna know," Dean assured and shook his head that time. With the ghost dealt with, Ron seemed more in control of his fear, but Dean didn't want to screw that up by telling the man that heaven and hell did in fact exist. Demons, too. That definitely wouldn't go over well, not with the cross hanging around the man's neck.
Sam didn't say anything else to counteract Dean's decision.
"So, what now? Just go back to normal? How am I supposed to explain this to people?"
"You don't. Most people probably won't believe what you say. Just stick to whatever the cops or the coroner go with, and go about your days," Sam answered.
Ron thought it over, apparently noting the serious expressions on both brothers' faces before he decided that it would probably be best to listen to what the experts advised. "And how do I pay you back for all of this?"
Both brothers waved their hands in front of them at the same time. "Not necessary. You're here, the ghost isn't, that's good enough for us." Sam nodded in agreement.
But Ron was still thinking. He looked to both of them, swept his eyes around the arcade, and snapped his fingers. "How about a round of laser tag? On the house, of course. Get rid of that extra energy or whatever. I wasn't planning on leaving tonight anyways, I could walk you through it."
Sam was about to politely decline, they were beat and had "other things" to get to, namely being sleep. But then he caught the way Dean's eyes slightly widened at the proposition. He hid it well, but Sam was accustomed to looking for his brother's tells. Dean's mask of indifference was back in place just as quickly as it had slipped away.
"We appreciate it, really, but we should probably head out."
Head to another case, another monster to deal with, another day to put their lives on the line. How many days did they have left now? It was technically early morning, so 112 had slipped to 111. He'd be out of triple digits soon and the thought made his heart clench. They'd been hunting relentlessly for the past few weeks, and Sam had been up longer than Dean even most nights.
And still nothing.
No steps closer to getting Dean out of his deal.
But that little flash of hope and excitement stuck to his brother's face was twinging something in Sam's chest. How many more little opportunities like this would they have? Dean had done more for him on less sleep before, they could take half an hour out.
"I mean…" Sam trailed off, and Dean couldn't school the surprised look on his face into submission. "We're already up, get rid of the nerves, like you said. As long as it isn't any trouble." Dean's jaw was clenched, otherwise it probably would've been hanging open.
"No, no, no, for you guys, no trouble at all. Just give me a minute to get the round set up," he smiled at the two of them and was off. Dean waited until the man had entered the designated laser tag room before he turned to Sam.
"Seriously?!"
"What, you don't want to?" Sam knew he hadn't misinterpreted Dean's somewhat hidden desire, but watching him try to explain it was always a little entertaining.
Dean's mouth opened and closed. "I wouldn't say no or anything, just figured you would. We've been working nonstop, it's late, and you need your beauty sleep, especially with all the extra time you spend up looking through books that won't help."
It was Sam's turn to look surprised. He had been trying to be careful with his extra research, he knew Dean didn't believe there was a way out, but he and Bobby wouldn't stop until they found one. Apparently he hadn't been quite as incognito as he had hoped. "Well what do you expect me to do?"
"Exactly that," Dean said with a sigh. "But man, nothing's gonna help, alright? I'd rather you not lose any more sleep over it."
Sure, maybe he'd give in for a day or two to give Dean some peace of mind, but nothing beyond that, not when they didn't have much time to begin with. "Maybe this will help, huh? You're always gloating about your 'near perfect aim'." Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother.
Dean opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't. "Lasers and real guns, Sammy, two very different things."
"What, afraid I'll get more points than you?"
It didn't take much to challenge Dean, especially coming from Sam. He saw the exact moment Dean's eyes narrowed and the oh it's on look crossed his face. "What's the wager?"
Sam thought for a moment. "Two week's worth of laundry?"
One week could slide, but rarely did two go by where they escaped without a disgusting monster kill. Skipping cleaning those gory clothes was well worth some invisible lasers. Dean just shrugged. "Done. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
"And I'm not about to let you win," Sam shot him a smirk. It was most definitely on.
When Ron came back out, he explained it to them and handed over some vests and guns. Dean called red and Sam took blue. The entrance to the room was almost completely dark save for some fluorescent paint, blue lights, and the lights coming from the vests, which were comically small on them even though they were adult sized.
"See you on the other side." Dean clapped a hand on Sam's back before he passed him to go to his starting point on the other side of the larger room they had walked into. Sam made a right instead towards the blue lights. The room itself was still dark, but there were large pillars and box-like structures marked with glowing paint that offered some form of protection.
Their respective charging zones were marked with their own colors. Once Sam got to his, all he had to do was wait for the countdown before the fifteen minute round started. He tested out the gun, no way it was incredibly accurate, and just from a cursory glance down the plastic barrel he could tell that he'd need to aim a bit more to the right than he actually shot.
He finished his examination right as the clock in the corner his zero and started counting down from fifteen.
Sam picked a decent first spot, though one was hard to find at his size in an area mostly made for people a foot or so shorter. He crouched around a corner outcropping where he could see the entrance to his area but Dean wouldn't be able to see him. Dean would come over first, wanting to solidify his dominance and prowess before they really get started. That and if Sam did end up beating him, he could at least claim that he drew first blood.
It took almost a minute before he saw a dark shape and some faint red lights peek out from one of the structures closer to his designated area. Dean was actually taking it slow and steady, Sam had to give him credit for that. But Dean kept moving towards Sam's area, allowing him to move to the other side of his corner, waiting for Dean to pass with his back to him.
As soon as Dean was a few steps in front, Sam leaned out, adjusted his aim, and fired off a few quick shots at his brother's back panel. The lights flickered, so at least one of them hit, and Dean immediately darted to the side for cover.
Sam crossed the walkway to a different position, taking his eyes off the opposing blocks for a second as he did so. It turned out to be a fatal mistake, for the instant he wasn't focused, Dean had taken advantage and fired off three quick shots, two of which hit Sam's vest and one his gun.
"Need to work on your stealth, Sammy!" Dean mocked him.
"Oh yeah?" Sam called back. "And who got the first points?"
The silence was enough of an answer and Sam smiled to himself. It was so on.
They didn't have any action for the next few minutes, though there were some quick misses as they each tried to sneak up on the other. Dean eventually had to return to his charging station since he had used up more of his fake ammo. Sam spared a glance at his. He should've probably taken the chance to go back to his own too, but catching Dean defenseless was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
He mirrored his brother's decisive movements, staying a few feet and a pillar out of eyeshot as he did so. Dean had to stand in the lit up archway for a few seconds as the gun recharged, and that was when Sam made his move.
He fired off as many quick rounds as he could before his own gun ran out and hastily made his exit, leaving a muttering, swearing Dean behind him.
"Yeah, real mature Sam!" The only response he got from his younger brother was a laugh. It was a low blow, sure, but the stakes were high and bragging rights higher.
Sam kept his head on a swivel as he recharged his own gun and got into a different position. The clock in the corner was winding down, with only two minutes left, and he was fairly certain he was ahead.
He strained his ears for some sort of tell where Dean would pop out of next, but there was nothing. He risked a few peeks from his hiding spot and still didn't see him anywhere. No way Dean wasn't planning something. But what?
He got his answer in the form of a few strikes to his back panel and he immediately whipped around, ready to fire back from behind the pillar. Only…Dean wasn't peeking out from any pillar he could see. No way he could've moved back that fast.
Sam cautiously moved forward and diagonal to set up a closer position, still covered, only to be hit again in the chest plate when he moved forward. He again ducked behind cover. No way Dean was in front of him, there were just pillars and blocks and Dean would've had to have been standing right in front of him to get those shots off.
He feigned moving again and heard Dean's gun go off, but thankfully none of the shots hit. Still though, Sam couldn't figure out where his brother was.
It was infuriating.
Before he could figure it out, the clock ran down and an alarm sounded letting them know the time was up. Sam stepped out from behind his defensive position, holding the gun loosely at his side, and watched for Dean as the lights came back on.
He was met by his brother, alright, lying down on his stomach in a sniper position almost flat on top of one of the high rectangular pillars.
"What the…how did you get up there?" Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Dean raised a hand to wave at him in greeting, grinned, and pushed backwards to slide off the block. He walked around the other side, completely nonchalant and utterly full of himself.
"You know you can't do that right?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you write the rule book? Cuz, apparently, Mr. Referee, pretty sure hits while recharging are illegal too," he said matter-o-factly, unable to keep the smug smile off his face before he pointed to the block he had been on. "That's tactical positioning."
Sam rolled his eyes but was smiling too. It was one of Dean's finer moments along the spectrum of being unbearable. "Uh huh, yeah, sure it is."
Dean hefted the small plastic gun over his shoulder. "C'mon, let's go see whose tactics, legal or illegal, worked out better."
Sam followed without a comment and both of them paused to take off their equipment. In the same room they had entered from were the scores.
Red: 10724
Blue: 9972
Dean hit him in celebration on the shoulder. "Almost a thousand point difference, ouch," he hissed, "losing your touch there, Sammy."
Sam, of course, had no idea how the actual point system worked or how reliable the 'weapons' were, but none of his arguing would do him any good. He wasn't living this one down anytime soon and he knew it.
"Sure, whatever you say," he replied with indifference that Dean would easily be able to see through.
"Hey, I don't say, the points say, fair and square," Dean pointed between the board and his brother. Sam just waved off his gloating, which continued as they met up with Ron in the front and Dean proclaimed how he had absolutely kicked Sam's ass.
Ron seemed much less on edge, which at the end of the day was what mattered, and thanked them again before letting them go.
"You know, if you're this much of a sourpuss over laser guns, we should go paint balling," Dean suggested as they walked over to the Impala. It was parked not far from the pile of charred wood they'd made earlier.
"We've never been paint balling in our lives, Dean. You just want something else to try and brag about?"
Dean just shrugged and waited a moment until they were both in the car before continuing. "First time for everything. Bucket lists and all that, right?"
Sam really worked to not have the smile wipe off his face. He wouldn't let a comment drag down how much fun he'd honestly had in the past twenty minutes. "If you find a decent place, you're on," he challenged instead and let the comment float to the ground between them.
"Maybe not a haunted paintball park though," Dean muttered and started up the car.
"With our luck it'll probably be haunted."
Dean let out a low chuckle. "Amen to that." He pulled out of the lot and started back toward the motel. It was a minute later when he snapped his fingers. "We'll need towels."
"Towels? For what?" Sam looked at him, confused.
Dean spared a glance over, grin creeping back over his face. "For you. So you don't get neon paint all over Baby's seats when I demolish you."
"You can try," was what Sam got out through slight laughs as he shook his head. The next one, he was definitely winning. Sam may have been able to stand and appreciate a lot things about his brother over the next not quite four months, but endless bragging was not one of them.
And if it checked off what was apparently one of Dean's bucket list items too?
It was on.
I haven't gone lasertagging in years, but I loved it when I was younger. So, would anyone be interested in a Winchester paintball chapter? It probably won't be the next one, but just so I have an idea for the future?