Chapter Two – A Day at the Movies

Four Days Prior –

The door swung open as John slipped back into their motel room juggling a stack of papers and reference books that he abruptly dumped on the small table by the window. Dean casually looked up from where he was sitting at the foot of the bed intently leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees to get a better view of the Baywatch babes doing their slow-mo bounce across the too small screen of the motel TV.

"Dean, we got another gig."

As the lifeguards flipped their hair and preened on the beach Dean looked up, grinning in amusement. He sighed and softly whispered, "Later, ladies," before he stepped over and shut off the TV turning all attention to his dad.

"Yeah? What's it this time? Ghosts? Poltergeist? PMS'ing clerk with an infatuation on a certain burly hunk of a man?" His eyes flashed and his dimples deepened as he offered a cocky grin.

John scowled, the image of that infamous fiasco still burning in his memory, smoldering down to rich, hot embers perfect to toast marshmallows over. "You ever gonna let me live that down?"

"Nope." Dean was rocking back and forth on his heels, a huge smirk on his face, clearing enjoying the look of anguish consuming his dad's dark features. "Still can't believe you thought it was supernatural." A low chuckle escaped his lips as he indulged in the moment. "The great John Winchester fooled by a lusty woman."

John contorted his face into a grimace. "Yeah, should have asked my teenage son for advice on handling her."

Dean quirked his head slightly to the side, while a knowing grin broke out. "Always available for a quick pointer, Dad. I know how out of practice you are."

"And you're a fine-tuned machine ready to slay the female persuasion?"

Dean's smirk overwhelmed his face, reaching all the way up to his glimmering eyes. "Don't you know it!"

John took in the image of his smug son. "I wish I didn't." Damn, Dean certainly is a looker. God help us. Dean not only got his mother's great looks, but John proudly took credit for a certain air about him, a charisma or presence, not to mention those dimples. What a lady-killer his son turned out to be. He only prayed Sammy didn't follow too closely in big brother's tracks. Hell, all I need are two of 'em to deal with!

Dean reached out and placed his right hand on his dad's shoulder, patting it in a concerned manner. "Always here for you, Dad. There's no shame in admitting you've lost your touch."

"Since when did I have the touch?" John scoffed as he absently ran his hand across the stubble on his chin. "I thought that was your department?"

Dean offered his cocky, I-am-just-too-much smirk. "True."

"How'd I ever end up with a ladies' man for a son?"

"You saying you weren't once a player?" Dean arched his eyebrows suggestively, waggling them over playful green eyes. "You know…, back before you got old and forgot what went where?"

John sighed. Dean could be insufferable when he got amused, and besides teasing his kid brother, tormenting his dad was right up there on the short list of things that amused his older son.

"I'm not saying anything. You've already got too much ammunition on me, and you better watch that mouth of yours. I can still whup your ass," John replied with a scowl that barely hid his light chuckle, his dimples revealing his own amusement. It felt good to sometimes let the barriers down and playfully spar with his son. Dean always knew the boundaries, unlike Sam who always seemed to push too hard and too far.

"Yes, sir," his son obediently responded, his eyes silent and unreadable except for the slightest glint of… Whimsy? Challenge? Defiance?

Dean resumed smirking, silently wondering… maybe… maybe not... There ain't no way I'm taking him on anytime soon. Still, it would be interesting, that's for damn sure…, but disrespectful.

John considered the silent challenge he saw his son mulling over and decided to let it pass. He had the experience and weight over his oldest, but Dean was young and talented and so damn resourceful. To be honest, he was pretty sure he could still take him, like ninety percent sure.., but he wasn't anxious to test the fact. Caution seemed like the strategic move here; why risk a possible embarrassment? Heaven help him if his son ever thought he was the stronger fighter and decided to mount a challenge. With Dean's smart mouth John would never live it down if he did happen to be bested by his son. Secretly he was relieved Dean so readily accepted the chain of command, stepping into formation as the loyal soldier, his dad's right-hand man.

John ran his hand down his face, shaking off all future concerns before returning to the motel coffeemaker plugged in by the sink for his fourth cup of coffee. He had planning to do and caffeine always jump-started his brain cells. Sitting down at the small table by the window he pulled out his leather journal, leafing through the ragged pages.

Dean sat back down on the bed quietly observing his dad for a moment. He might toy with the notion of taking on the top dog; after all, he was a young buck and at eighteen was apt to flex his muscles, but in his heart he knew who the boss was and he was fine with it. Dad was the general and he was the second in command, their roles firmly established years ago. They were at war and that's what mattered, the chain of command clear and firm leaving no room for doubt or hesitation. To be honest it provided the only stability in his life; a clear guide to what was expected and where he stood in the grand scheme of things.

After a lifetime of careful scrutiny, Dean was an expert at judging John's moods. Years of mediating his own behavior and refereeing any rifts between his dad and Sam honing his skills. He knew just how far he could push without hitting the wall, and he sure as hell never wanted to hit the wall with John Winchester.

Playtime was over; they had a job to do. He sighed with a confident grin, his gut fluttering with welcome anticipation; a hunt always brought him back to who he was, bringing into sharper focus what his true purpose was. Time to get serious; evil was waiting, and Dean Winchester would hardly want to disappoint.

"So? What's the gig?"

John paused in his research to brief his son. "Movie Theater in town. Spectral sightings, odd disturbances, cold spots."

Dean nodded, intently watching his dad for silent clues he didn't feel the need to voice. "Sounds simple enough. What's the history? Any deaths or previous hauntings?"

"Not that I can find. Whatever it is seems pretty benign, more mischievous than anything."

Dean pondered the information and tilted his head slightly in confusion as his eyebrows arched. "Then why waste our time? It's not like we've run out of real badass evil to hunt."

Looking up from his paperwork John nodded in agreement. "True, but it's a paying gig. We can use the money."

"Why pay us if it's not hurting anyone? Doesn't it just up the interest in the joint? You know, make it more colorful?" An amusing thought popped into Dean's head and he excitedly pointed at his dad. "Hey, maybe they can make the next edition of 'Haunted America'. You think?" He laughed with abandon, finding great joy in the thought, but still finding any real purpose behind this hunt lacking.

"That's not the kind of interest the owner needs. He wants it gone 'cause it's hurting the bottom line."

Dean casually shrugged before leaning back on his elbows. "Yeah? How so?"

"Every time it interrupts the movie the guy has to refund the ticket price. Financially, it's killing him."

Dean settled back and offered a knowing nod. "Huh. Guess the almighty buck rules again. So what's its MO?"

John was tapping his pen against the open journal while he concentrated; he looked up and gave his son his attention again. "It's a multi-plex, but all the occurrences happen when they play one particular movie."

Dean twisted his mouth as his eyebrows arched. "Same theater?"

"Nope. That's the strange part. Since this started he's been shuffling his showtimes around. Different movies play at different times, different theaters, but the disturbances only happen during the one movie."

"Yahtzee!" Dean exclaimed with a goofy grin as he snapped his fingers. "Looks like a pattern."

John smiled at his son's sarcasm; Dean loved stating the obvious with his smartass mouth. "Yeah, it's a pattern, smart-guy; now, whatcha gonna do about it?"

Dean offered his most confident grin. "Waste its sorry ass."

John laughed. "Works for me, but first you have to find it," he cautioned.

Dean was mulling over the specifics of the case when he heard footsteps and a shadow passed by the window of the room. Both men tensed as a key slipped into the door. They simultaneously looked over on alert as the door swung open and Sam entered the room, returning from his trip down to the fast food joint on the corner to pick up lunch. He plopped down a bag of cheeseburgers and fries on the small table, placing one burger before his dad, tossing another to his brother on the bed and taking one for himself before sitting down on the other bed to join in the conversation.

Dean caught the burger his brother tossed him with one hand and as he was unwrapping it he walked over to the table to grab a container of fries. He looked to his brother as he peered under the top bun of his burger. "You call this extra onions?" he groused.

"Cheap fast food. Whatcha expect?"

"And did you ask for extra onions?"

Sam smiled that sweet smile that reeked of pure innocence. "Of course."

Big brother glowered at him, suspecting the little twerp was staging another one of his silent protests.

Sam ignored the death ray stare and glanced at his dad. "So, I hear right? You got another job?" The disappointment in his voice was evident despite his casual tone. He'd been hoping for some down time to chill out with his brother. Of course that was before his brother reminded him of what a jerk he could be. Fine, 'cause I could care less you got another gig.

John smiled at the apparent interest of his youngest. "Yeah, Sammy. Movie Theater in town. Looks like a haunting," John replied hoping to redirect the conversation away from the onion controversy.

Dean adjusted the bun on his cheeseburger and bit into it, talking with his mouth full. "So, what's the movie?" he questioned as he sat back down on the bed.

"Titanic."

Dean looked puzzled, furrowing his eyebrows and twisting his mouth as he spoke, "Huh? What's that? A monster flick? Some giant, mutant ant or something?"

Sam choked on his first bite of burger. "You're kidding, right?"

Dean grimaced from his smart-aleck brother's comment, obviously too big for his britches and needing to be taken down, like maybe three or four inches! "Yeah, Sammy, I'm just comic relief. What's your point, Ebert?"

"For someone who prides himself on his knowledge of pop culture, you missed the boat on this one." Sam grinned, obviously enjoying his little joke.

Dean sneered and looked to his dad for rescue.

John didn't fail him, joining back in the conversation and enlightening his sheltered son. Sheltered? Not hardly…, let's just say temporarily 'Entertainment Tonight' deprived. Guess Dean's been a little too preoccupied with hunting and the steady stream of ladies to stay current with the latest national obsession. "It's the new blockbuster movie. It's about the ship Titanic that sunk in the Atlantic back in 1912."

Dean quickly recovered. "Oh, yeah, that Titanic. Didn't have enough lifeboats, reason they came up with the international distress signal of SOS." Dean glared at his brother, delighting in the look of shock on his face. Take that Sammy-O; I've seen A Night to Remember. You forget who you're dealing with here?

Sam's shocked expression slowly gave way to admiration. "Wow, so you didn't totally sleep through history class?" Sam noted in awe.

Dean jumped over to the bed his brother was sitting on and roughly pushed his shoulder, smiling as he teased him. "You're not the only one with a brain, Sammy."

"Yeah, I know. Everyone has one, but not everyone uses it."

Grabbing at his heart and rolling away from his brother, Dean feigned a mortal wound. "Ouch, that one hurt," he snickered.

John smiled at his sons' antics, relieved the job was a simple one without all the usual potential for harm. The money was good, the job was easy, and for once the world seemed to be treating them fairly. Well, mostly. He'd learned long ago not to expect much from the world. Best to only depend on himself and his boys; the world had a nasty habit of letting them down.

"So, Dad. What's the plan?" Dean asked as Sam and he continued to jostle each other back and forth in a mock war.

"Well, you'll be the inside man and I'll keep an eye on the outside. Like you said, we find this sucker and waste 'em."

"No problem." Dean grinned in complete contentment, obviously chomping at the bit to be back in action and waste some evil, even if it was the low-rent variety. Hell, my kind of job. No nature hikes through cold, dreary nights stumbling around over rough terrain searching out evil and to top it all off, no blood-thirsty creatures trying to devour them in return. Sounds like the perfect gig! A nice comfortable seat in an air-conditioned theater watching movies, which was one of his favorite pastimes, sounded like just the ticket to a relaxing, pleasant job. This could offer a much needed respite from the danger their jobs usually entailed. He only hoped they didn't vanquish this sucker too damn fast. Watching movies on the big screen was always a treat, certainly better than the fuzzy reception and midget-sized screens of the crappy motel rooms they stayed in.

TBC