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Hollywood Babylon
"First opened in 1927," The automated high pitched female voice began as the tour bus we were on, if it could be called a tour bus, rolled around the corner. "The Lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades,"
"Hey, you know this is where they filmed 'Creepshow'?" Dean informed me with a boyish excitement on his face that made a small smile tug at my own lips.
"Who cares?" Dean and I both turned to see the fat kid sitting behind Dean and me looking at us boredly before turning back to his ice cream cone. Dean looked almost comically offended at the kid's sass while I couldn't help laughing slightly as did Sam, who was sitting next to the kid.
"Now to the right here is stars hollow," Dean and I both looked right. "It's the setting for the television series Gilmore Girls," For some reason, I glanced back at Sam to see how he was holding up, for I knew he didn't want to take this tour in the first place. "If we're lucky we might even catch one of the show's stars," I glanced back to the front hopefully. Just because I was a hunter, didn't mean I didn't want to see some famous actor or actress waltzing by.
"Come on," Sam hissed at us, getting off the trolley that was really a glorified golf cart.
"We're not finishing the tour?" I questioned only to have my question answered by Sam not breaking stride as he walked away from the cart.
"Guys," He gestured for us to follow, and I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. I'd been interested in seeing some movie stars, but so much for that. I stepped off the trolley while Dean stepped off the opposite side, and we headed to where Sam was waiting for us.
"Check it out. It's Matt Damon," Dean pointed excitedly at a guy who was sweeping outside of a trailer in a grey uniform.
"That's not Matt Damon," I told him, laughing until I caught Sammy's look. I glared at him, hoping he wouldn't dare bring up what his raised eyebrows told me he was thinking of.
"Yeah, and she would know Matt Damon," I bumped my shoulder against his as he laughed, and Dean frowned in confusion.
"What's that mean?" He glanced from me to Sam, who looked incredulously at me.
"You didn't tell him?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he awaited an actual answer.
"Sammy," I glowered at him while he just laughed.
"Mels, here, used to have a crush on Matt Damon," Dean's eyebrows rose in shock as he turned to me.
"No, I didn't," My denial was met with silence from both boys, and I rolled my eyes as I relented. "Okay, maybe a small crush," I admitted cautiously. Sam chuckled incredulously, making me give him an annoyed glare that I couldn't hold. "But that's not him. That guy's a janitor. He's sweeping,"
"Yeah, but he could be researching a role or something," Dean spoke through his laughter as the three of us walked past the man sweeping.
"Uh, I don't think so," Sam took my side of the argument, shaking his head. "Hey, this way. I think stage nine's over here," Sam was looking down a road to our left.
"Come on, Sammy. Why don't we try this way," I attempted to change his mind, glancing ahead of us at the people bustling around excitedly.
"Yeah, let's keep going," Dean instantly agreed with me. We'd originally planned to come down here as a sort of much needed vacation for all of us, especially Sammy after what had happened to Madison. I swallowed hard as I thought about the innocent werewolf Sam had been forced to kill.
"No, come on. We got to work," Sam spoke in his usual I-am-a-martinet voice. Dean and I rolled my eyes but followed him as he turned down the side road.
"Golly," Dean drew out the word in an exhale, annoyed at his little brother. I glanced up at Dean, my eyebrows raised in surprise. I'd never heard Dean use the term 'golly' before in my life. In answer to my unasked question, he shrugged noncommittally.
"You two were the ones that wanted to come," Sam pointed out, turning the blame on us.
"Yeah! We wanted to vacation!" I exclaimed in response. "You know, that thing you do that is the opposite of work," Sam made a face at me as I utilized sarcasm in my defense.
"Exactly," Dean agreed, huffing in annoyance. "See some movie stars, go swimming in swimming pools," He added, turning to press a kiss to the side of my head without breaking stride. My left hand came up to my shoulder level, so my fingers could intertwine with Dean's. In response Dean's arm tightened around my shoulders, drawing me closer to his side.
"This seem like swimming pool weather to either of you?" Sam asked rhetorically, gesturing at the grey, cloudy sky above us. "It's practically canadian,"
"Yeah, it's not exactly ideal" I nodded in agreement, not being able to find any argument with his point. It was a pretty crappy day to be on vacation, but that didn't make it a good day to be working.
"Look, we just figured that, you know, after everything that happened with Madison, you could use a little R&R, that's all," I winced at how unfeeling Dean's well meant words came off.
"Well, maybe I want to work. Maybe it keeps my mind off things," Sam countered his protest defensively.
"Okay, all right," I surrendered for both of us. "So this guy who worked there died on the set of the movie?" I checked, trying to turn my full attention to the hunt Sammy had found for us.
"Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online. They're saying the set is haunted," I frowned as Sam informed us of what was happening on the set of the movie.
"So, like 'Poltergeist'?" I offered, making Sam shrug and Dean glance at me with a look like pride in his eyes. He'd been lecturing me on damn near every movie ever created here for the past two days. That had been one long car ride.
"Could be a poltergeist," He agreed, a slight confusion in his voice as he shoved his hands into his pockets.
"No, no, no. The movie 'Poltergeist'," Dean corrected him incredulously. "Were you not paying attention in the car?" Dean asked only to have Sam shrug again and give him an empty look of confusion that made me laugh. "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?"
"The seat of 'Poltergeist' was haunted," I explained to Sam shortly.
"Cursed," Dean corrected me before turning back to Sammy. "And it was just a rumor. They were said to have used real, human bones as props. Like, at least three of the actors died in it,"
"Yeah, might be something like that," Sam admitted now that he knew what we were talking about.
"Okay, so what was the dead crew guy's name?" I questioned, getting away from the movie reference and back to the task at hand. I had no feeling about this case, which usually meant there wasn't a case. All I had to do was humor Sam for a while, and then, hopefully, we'd find nothing and we could all take a weekend off. I glanced at Sam, who looked tired, despite his best efforts to hide it. He needed a break no matter how much he denied it.
"Frank Jaffe," Sam answered me promptly, clearly having done his research in the car while Dean had been talking about the movies.
"Frank Jaffe," Dean repeated, getting down to business. "You got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?" He questioned as we turned the corner.
"Well, no, but, uh, it's L.A., you know? That might not even be his real name," Sam shrugged as if he didn't think the coroner's report was relevant. "But the girl who found him, she said she saw something - a vanishing figure,"
"And the girl's name is…?" I prompted him when he didn't continue.
"Uh, Tara Benchley?" I stopped short at that name, forcing Dean to stop at well, a knowing smile on his face. Sam walked a few paces before realizing Dean and I weren't with him, and he turned back to face us, a grin pulling at his lips.
"Wait, the Tara Benchley?" I asked, shock and excitement mixing in my voice. "The Tara Benchley?" Sam nodded, the grin widening into a smile. If Matt Damon had been my crush then Tara Benchley had been my idol. "'FeardotCom' and 'Ghost Ship'?" Dean had made me watch those a few years ago, and I'd really loved her roles in them. I turned my eyes to Dean, who was watching my expression with a big smile. "You knew?" It wasn't really a question; I could tell by his face that he had. I untangled my hand from his and hit him in the chest playfully while he laughed.
"Come on, it's just up here," Sam told me, beginning to walk towards the opening warehouse door. A smile came to my face as Dean's arm slipped around my shoulders again.
"Happy birthday, baby," I froze in surprise again, and Dean used that to his advantage to spin in front of me, his hand dropping from my shoulders to my waist as he pressed his lips to mine.
"You remembered," I murmured in genuine shock when he'd broken the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. He pulled away from me slightly, studying my face with an almost offended look in his green eyes.
"You thought I would forget?" He asked, his eyebrows raising.
"It's just with everything going on…" I shrugged, not really sure how to finish. Truth be told I hadn't remembered my birthday until this morning, and I hadn't wanted to make a big deal about it.
"Come on," Was Dean's response, and I willingly followed him into the warehouse where Sam was waiting.
"Happy birthday," He greeted me as the three of us walked towards the set.
"Thanks, Sammy," I nudged his shoulder with mine affectionately. We stopped a couple yards away from the set to just stand there and watch props being carried on and off of it.
"Uh, excuse me. Uh, green-shirt guy?" I hit Dean lightly on the shoulder to get his attention before I pointed at the older man in a suit who was shouting at him. "Yeah, yeah, you. Come here," The man nodded as Dean looked at him quizzically. Cautiously, he approached the man, who was now finishing the grape he'd eaten and was counting off dollars. "Can you get me a, uh, smoothie from Craftie?"
"You want a what from who?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raised.
"You are a P.A. This is what you do," The executive spoke to him as if he were teaching Dean a letter of the alphabet. I jogged towards him lightly.
"Yeah, sorry. He's new," I apologized for him, and the man's eyes scrutinized my form heavily. "One smoothie, you got it,"
"I don't think I've seen you here before. I would've remembered you. You sure you're a P.A.?" Dean's jaw clenched, and I grabbed his arm tighter, silently warning him not to do anything stupid.
"Unless the last month has been a dream," I smiled, trying desperately to stay in character as Dean's eyes burned holes in the side of my face. "We should go get you that smoothie,"
"Don't worry. I will definitely be finding you later," The suited man's eyes travelled up and down my body appreciatively, making me feel uncomfortably naked. I managed a small, forced smile before Dean and I turned, and Dean practically dragged me away from the group of men.
"I can feel him checking out your ass," Dean growled under his breath furiously, making me glance back to see the man was, indeed, checking out my butt.
"Dean, we have bigger things to worry about then some old guy hitting on me," I told him, forcing him to slow down to allow Sam to catch up to us. "Like what a P.A. is,"
"I think they're kind of like slaves," Sam replied, and the three of us grimaced simultaneously. Who would choose to do that to themselves?
"Mel, watch out!" The next moments flew by in an adrenaline enhanced blur of movement. A force slammed into my side hard enough to throw me to the grassy ground. There was a sharp cry of pain from where I'd fallen, and I spun rapidly to see Sam falling while clutching his leg, his face twisted into a grimace of agony.
"SAM!" I screamed, crawling over to him before dragging him backwards in a desperate attempt to save him from the vengeful spirit. "Dean, hurry up!" I snarled, fear turning my voice coarse and harsh. I abandoned Sam's arms, knowing no matter how fast I dragged him, it wouldn't do any good. I went for his leg instead, the one he was clutching with both hands tightly.
"Sam, let me see," I managed to pry his fingers away only to let them go again in shocked terror. The wound was not long but it was deep, and it was bleeding profusely. He needed treatment. Now. "Shit," I muttered as my eyes flicked up to the fifteen-year-olds face. His eyes were screwed shut with pain, but tears had managed to escape them and leaked down his face. "Sammy, look at me," Slowly, his eyes opened, but, when they did, they shined in fear at something over my shoulder. I whipped around to see the ghost had reappeared behind me, his mouth open in a choking scream as blood poured from the vertical slits on each of his pale wrists. "Dean!" I screamed his name, clinging to one last hope that he'd finish in time.
Suddenly the creature jerked back, clutching his chest while his expression turned from malice to horror. It let out a low guttural noise before it's body went up in a magnificent wave of orange, red, and yellow. As soon as the ghost was nothing but smoke, I turned back to the boy lying by my knees.
"Told you I could-" Dean began cockily as he pulled himself out of the grave he'd just desecrated. His sentence abruptly choked off, and suddenly he was across from me, hovering over Sammy's shaking form. "What the hell happened?" I yanked off my sweater despite the forty degree weather we were in, and wrapped it multiple times around Sam's leg before tying it.
"We need to get him to the car, Dean," I spoke the words as an order before my gaze shot to Sam's face. "We need to get him to a hospital," Dean nodded quickly, beginning to go for his brother's arm when Sam stopped him.
"No," His voice was surprisingly strong for a boy with blood loss. "No hospital,"
"Sammy, don't be ridiculous," Dean snapped at Sam, who just shook his head harder.
"Dad'll be pissed. No hospital," He seemed to see our incredulous look because he gave us what was probably the best puppy dog face he could muster in the current situation. "Please,"
"Fine," Dean agreed, making my eyes jerk to him in shock and protest. "We still need to get him out of here," I grabbed one of his arms, slinging it over my shoulder as Dean did the same with Sam's other arm. We half dragged, half carried Sammy, who was going through a very ill timed growth spurt, to the car. I slipped into the backseat, pulling him in with me, so he could stretch out the leg.
"Sammy, I'm going to need you to stay awake and talk to me, okay?" I told him, ruffling his hair with my hand affectionately while my eyes remained trained on the blood seeping through my sweater. Why oh why had we ever decided this was a good idea? We were driving in a stolen car - correction we were speeding in a stolen car to a motel room to try to save a boy, who was basically my brother.
"Okay," He answered me softly. "Tell Dean to slow down. We can't get pulled over," I couldn't help but chuckle at what Sam chose to respond.
"You heard him," I reached out to hit Dean's shoulder, and I could hear him chuckling as well. Somehow, the faint noise calmed me.
"You got it, little man," Dean replied, all traces of humor gone from his voice. The car did actually slow up a little bit.
"Not so little anymore," I laughed at his retort, and Dean echoed my laughter. It was true, though. Sam had grown an inch and a half at least since Christmas. He was taller than me now and quickly gaining on Dean. "I'm gonna be taller than you one day,"
"Don't be so sure," Dean replied, and I saw him roll his eyes in the rearview.
"I'm already taller than Mel," Sam pointed out, causing me to turn a mock glare on him.
"Hey, I'm a girl. It's good to be shorter than boys," I defended myself, making Sam and Dean both snort disbelievingly.
"Excuses," Sam teased, shaking his head while I rolled my eyes but smiled affectionately. Suddenly, he let out a groan of pain, his torso moving forward slightly as he tried to double over.
"What? What happened? What'd you do?" Dean snapped, his voice loosing all of it's warmth and mirth in one second.
"Nothing! I don't know," I responded, trying to stop Sam's hands from reaching for his wound. "Just focus on driving!"
"Well, you had to have done something!" Was Dean's shouted reply that somehow got under my skin. My narrowed eyes snapped to the rearview where he was frequently throwing glances.
"It isn't my fault, Dean!" I hurled the words at him like poison.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. Nothing is your fault!" I flinched at his sarcastic jab as everything became too much for me and tears pricked at my eyes. I kept my mouth shut for fear of my voice cracking if I spoke aloud. Thankfully, I was saved by Sam cutting in a moment after Dean finished digging the knife into my heart.
"Don't fight," He whispered quietly, in a pleading tone. "Please, don't fight,"
Dean and I walked through the set, Dean carrying the smoothies in one hand while I had the EMF hidden under my jacket. One earphone was in, letting me know if there was a spike or noticeable change in the usual crackle. Dean nudged me, causing me to glance at him, and his eyes flicked up at the catwalk before back at me. I nodded, following him as he ditched the smoothies and headed up the metal stairs as quietly as he could. Nothing. We glanced down at the actors and actresses on set who were goofing off and laughing together as the man called out 'cut'.
"Come on," I whispered so lowly that I barely heard myself, but I walked quietly back with Dean following. We got to the bottom of the stairs before Dean noticed the table, which was shrouded in a white table cloth and had all different types of food on it. We hadn't eaten since that morning. Needless to say, we made a beeline for it.
"So?" Sam prompted us as we took some food.
"There was no traces of EMF," I relayed the amount of zip we had found.
"Great. So what do you think?" Sammy questioned, putting his hands on his hips as Dean swallowed the food in his mouth to answer him.
"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks, but… the food these people get? Are you kidding me?" He went off on a completely separate tangent, forcing me to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing aloud. "I mean, look at these things. They're like miniature philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious," Dean picked one up off the food cart and offered it to Sam, who turned it down, looking mildly disgusted.
"Maybe later," He suggested, wrinkling his nose a bit. Dean offered one to me, which I accepted and then took another that he bit into with a moan of pleasure that made me roll my eyes.
"So, what'd you dig up about the crew guy?" I asked Sam before biting into the sandwich. Dean had been right; they were amazing. Sam stared at Dean for a moment and then to me and then back to Dean as if confused. "Sammy?" I prompted, waving a hand in front of his face. He blinked and shook his head before starting.
"Uh… yeah. Frank Jaffe was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything," He muttered almost sullenly, making me frown in confusion as I finished my philly cheesesteak sandwich.
"Oh, great. So you found out about as much as we did," Dean summed up dejectedly, and Sam opened his mouth, hopefully to protest, but a guy stopped in front of us, cutting Sam off.
"Hey, guys," He greeted us.
"Oh, hey," He grabbed a miniature philly cheesesteak sandwich as Dean returned the greeting. He was walking away when Dean called after him, "They're wonderful," I suppressed a smile at his obsession with the food.
"Listen," Sam got our attention again as he spoke with a note of urgency. "I did dig up some stuff about stage nine's history," Dean and I just stood there and waited for him to continue. "Four people died messy here over the past eighty years - two suicides and two fatal accidents,"
"Any of those could have become a spirit," I pointed out, but I was internally grateful. At least now we had something to go on. Maybe this was a case after all.
"Yeah," Sam agreed with a shrug as if the hunt was basically solved. "Just got to narrow it down more," I was about to reply when I caught sight of the woman behind Sam who was walking to her chair.
"That's her," Dean and Sam followed my gaze to the actress who just took her chair. "I'll be right back," Tara Benchley had been filming since we arrived, so I couldn't talk to her. Clearly, she was on some sort of break, so I figured now was my chance. A woman passed by with a mountain of papers in her hand that looked important. I tapped her on the shoulder, making her turn and diverting her attention just enough for me to slip around the other side of her and steal a paper before heading towards Tara again.
"Hey, you're supposed to get one of these, right?" I offered her the paper, and she looked at it for a moment before looking up at me. "I'm sorry. I just started here… I honestly have no idea what's going on,"
"Overwhelmed?" I let out a laugh at her word and nodded.
"Yeah, this was supposed to be my big break," She smiled and nodded as if she knew exactly what I was talking about. "I, uh, I'm a huge fan, by the way," This was weird. I mean, I loved her movies, but it was weird seeing her as a real person.
"Thanks," She smiled kindly before going back to look over part of the script she held.
"Um, you're the one that found him, right? The dead guy?" Her eyes flicked back up to me in surprise, and I shook my head, pretending to be embarrassed. "Sorry, this is probably the last thing you want to talk about right now,"
"No, no, actually, it's - it's okay. Nobody around here really brings it up very much. I think they're all scared I'm going to have some kind of break down," Her voice dropped to a whisper at the end of her sentence, and I gave a small, ironic laugh at that statement.
"I know the feeling," I muttered, glancing back at the boys, who were still standing by the food cart talking. "What happened?"
"It was horrible," She confessed. "There - there was all this blood coming from his eyes, from his mouth, and uh… I saw this, um…" She seemed to be struggling with the next words. "I saw this shape. To tell you the truth, I don't know what exactly I saw. I just know I saw it,"
"Here you go, Tara," A short, stocky man handed her what looked like a pink lemonade before glancing at me and leaving.
"Were you two close? I mean, did you talk to each other?" I questioned her further about Frank, but she just shrugged and shook her head.
"I have his picture," Her offer piqued my interest, and I nodded hopefully.
"Can I see it?" I questioned, surprised that she just happened to have a picture of a guy she barely knew lying around.
"Yeah," She flipped through the black, leather book she kept on her lap. "I take polaroids of all the crew. It's just one of those things you do to pass the time," I smiled like I knew exactly what she was talking about. "Right there," She pointed, and I moved around the chair to see better.
"Do you mind if I take a picture?" I questioned, and she shook her head. I went back to the boys, showing them the photograph I'd taken on my camera, and Dean sucked in a surprised breath.
"Holy crap," He muttered, his eyes lighting up with understanding as he strode away. Sam and I exchanged a glance before quickly following him to the Impala. As he drove, he explained about Frank Jaffe, whose real name was Gerrard St. James. He was apparently an actor who'd played a number of obscure roles in films that Dean and I had watched but that Sam had no idea even existed. Dean slowed as we pulled into the motel parking lot and parked in front of our door. Sam went into his room as Dean went into ours, and I hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door of Sam's room. Sam had been acting weird, and I knew it wasn't just Madison. He'd been acting weird before her, too. I shook my head, hoping to shake off those thoughts, and I walked into the room that Dean and I shared.
"Hey," I turned to see Dean shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the table. I was suddenly struck by a sort of worry that seemed to come from deep inside my chest. It was a nostalgia for something that was happening in the moment. It felt like I may never see Dean throw his jacket on the table again. Then it passed. "You okay?" Dean frowned at me, and I crossed the room to slam my lips against his in response. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist as we stumbled into the back wall. He flipped me over, so I was the one pressed up against the wall. Out of nowhere, he pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead against mine as we both panted lightly.
"You don't want to go out for Chinese?" I looked at him like he was crazy for a moment before I realized what day it was.
"Dean Winchester is turning down sex?" My eyes widened in mock surprise as I answered his question with my rhetorical one, and I could almost feel his eye roll.
"Shut up," He murmured softly, making his love tangible through his words.
"Bite me," I responded playfully, pecking his lips lightly.
"You are the birthday girl," He whispered with a grin before he lowered his lips to meet mine.
I knocked on the door of the house impatiently, waiting for Gerard St. James, aka Frank Jaffe, to open the door. I only had to wait a few more moments until a older man in a blue Hawaiian shirt opened the door.
"Are you Gerard St. James?" I questioned him, frowning at his lazy attire.
"Yes," He answered shortly.
"You're still alive and you're not Frank Jaffe," Sam commented on the obvious.
"Uh, no…" Gerard was clearly unsure about how to respond to that.
"You were - you were desert soldier number four in 'Metalstorm: The Destruction Of Jared-Syn'," I slowly turned my eyes on Dean, my eyebrows raised so high they nearly molded with my hairline.
"I was," He agreed, still looking unsettled by our presence.
"I knew I recognized you. I am a huge fan," Dean admitted, laughing lightly. "I mean, your turn as the tractor-crash victim in 'Critters three'" Gerard spoke the name at the same time Dean did, his face finally breaking into a smile.
"Hey, well, please. Come in. I'll make some tea," I walked into the room with Dean and Sam following as I made my way into his living room. It only took a few minutes to make the tea before he poured it in cups and handed it out. "Yeah, it was the producers," He confessed to us after handing out the cuts. "They brought me up for the day to play Frank,"
"Just to fake your death?" Dean questioned incredulously.
"Well, rumors of a haunted film set… free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie - I mean, it's already all over the internet,"
"Yeah, we've realized," I knew my voice sounded slightly bitter, but I couldn't help it. Late last night, after I'd found Gerard's address, I scoured the internet looking for everything related to the death. There was a lot. Theories. Rumors.
"These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new 'lonelygirl'," I glanced at Sam and Dean before my eyes widened fractionally in surprise. It was a very rare moment when a reference went over all three of our heads at once.
"Who?" Dean asked, but Sam interrupted before Gerard could answer.
"And the ghost Tara saw?" Sam prompted.
"Projected on a screen of diffusion," He explained indifferently, sounding impressively objective about the whole ordeal.
"Well, that's cruel, don't you think'? Making her think she saw a ghost and a murder?" I clarified for him, but I could tell by his face he didn't care at all.
"Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script," He defended himself, making me roll my eyes with annoyance. "Speaking of… I'm playing Willy in a dinner-theater production of 'salesman' at Costa Mesa all next month. Get a free pepper steak with the coupon," He handed the brochure to Dean eagerly.
"Wait a second, if you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?" Dean asked sensibly.
"Oh, please," Gerard scoffed at Dean's naivety with a chuckle before turning to Sam and I. "Frank and Willy, totally different characters," He informed us, and I felt sickened suddenly.
"Thanks for the tea, but we should probably get going," I tried to excuse us, and Sam came to my rescue.
"Yeah, it was just nagging at us," He agreed, clearly wanting to get out of the house as much as I did. I shook his head, as did Sam and Dean.
"Hey, I wanted to ask you, what was it like working with Richard Moll?" My eyes slowly turned to Dean again, my eyebrows shooting up.I glanced at Sam to see the confused bitch face he was throwing Dean.
"'Metalstorm'," I told him with a sigh before turning to Gerard, only half interested in the answer.
"Gentleman's gentleman," He answered with a shrug.
"Yeah?" Dean grinned widely. "All right," He flipped the brochure to face Gerard. "Pepper Steak," He spoke the words like a reminder that he would be there. The man smiled and nodded before showing us the door.
Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel and nearly ripped the door off getting out. He and I managed to get Sam out of the car and into the motel room.
"Can you hold him?" I questioned quickly, glancing at Dean, who nodded, his jaw set in determination. I let go of Sam's arm, and Dean grunted with the effort of keeping Sammy up by himself. Working fast, I put down newspapers on the floor before nodding to Dean, who laid Sam down on the floor, making sure his leg was over newspaper while his torso rested against the bed. Slowly, I unwrapped my sweater, trying desperately to ignore Sam's cry of pain as Dean knelt on the other side.
"Jesus," Dean's word came out as a whimper. "No, no, no, no, no…" The wound did look worse than I remembered; the ghost had slashed him deeply. "Shit," I threw my shirt aside and surveyed the damage to the gash. I could stitch it up. I would have to.
"Dean, get the first aid kit," I ordered, turning Sam's leg, so I could see the cut easier in the light of the room. I was surprised to find my hands completely steady, though my heart was hammering hard in my chest. This was the first time Sam had been hurt on a hunt.
"What's dad going to say?" I glanced up as Dean mumbled the words, his eyes fixed on Sammy's bleeding leg. "I should've been faster. This is my fault. This is all my fault. Shit. There's so much blood,"
"Dean, get the first aid kit!" I snapped the words at him, worry laced through my voice as he showed no sign of hearing me. He ran a bloody hand through his hair, unconsciously giving himself scarlet highlights.
"Dean?" Sam's voice suddenly sounded small and meek and very, very scared. I glanced down at the boy to see he was looking at his brother with large brown eyes.
"Dean!" At my hiss, his eyes snapped to me. They were as big as Sammy's and almost as terrified.
"He can't die, Mels. He can't," Dean begged me, but I refused to show how much his break down was scaring me. "There's so much blood. There's so much-" Snap. I hadn't realized what I was going to do until after Dean's face had cracked sideways and my hand was red and stinging. Slowly, he turned back to me, but his eyes were different now, more focused.
"First aid kit," Dean nodded silently at my words this time and sped off towards my bag. He came back a moment later with a small, white box with a thick red cross on the front of it. I opened it without hesitation, yanking out a needle and thread. I threaded the needle before handing it to Dean to hold and yanking off my belt much to both boys surprise. I thanked my stars I'd had decided to wear one today; the only thing about today that had been lucky. I folded the belt once before handing it to Sam.
"Bite down on it when you feel pain and try not to scream," We should be in a hospital right now. Not a damn motel room. Sam took the belt and nodded, swallowing hard before placing it between his jaws.
"Okay," I put the needle to his skin and began stitching, desperately trying to ignore Sammy's muffled screams. "You have to hold him down," I managed to tell Dean around the lump that had formed in my throat, and I blinked furiously in a desperate attempt to keep the hot tears from blurring my vision. We never should have been at that graveyard. We should've waited for John to get back from his hunt and told him about the haunting. It was Dean who had found it first. The weird deaths that kept occurring at the bank on fifth avenue. He went to check it out once because he was bored, and two days later, here we were. A near dead Sammy lying between us. I took a deep, calming breath and finished stitching his wound before tying off the thread, pressing a white bandage to the sloppy stitches, and wrapping it in gauze.
"We're going to need to change his bandages every so often," I noted as Sammy handed me back my belt with shaking fingers. "But other than that, you should be fine," I prayed the words were true even as I said them. I took the newspapers from under Sam and shoved them into the trash along with my bloodstained sweater, having no further use for either. I walked to the sink, turning on the faucet with my elbow before rinsing off the blood off my hands with soap. I dried my hands with a dishtowel they had before turning back to the boys, both of whom were still on the floor.
"Thanks, Mels," Sammy whispered hoarsely, his eyes fixed on his bandaged leg. I knelt down next to him, managing a shaky smile as I ruffled his brown hair.
"Anytime, Sammy," I kissed the top of his head lightly before sitting back on my heels. "Just do me a favor and try to avoid murder ghosts for the next couple of months, huh?" Sam gave a small, pained laugh at my words.
"Yeah, okay," He agreed, and I ruffled his hair again. "Can I get some sleep now?" He questioned hopefully, and I nodded in response, slipping a hand under his left knee and a hand behind his back. I glanced at Dean, who seemed to get the idea because he did the same on the other side. We lifted Sam with a simultaneous grunt of effort before we moved him onto one of the twin beds. "Thanks,"
"I need to get some air," Dean spoke abruptly, turning and taking off out the door with Sam and I staring after him in surprise.
"Can we cut or something?" Tara called to the film crew, growing annoyed.
"Uh, yeah. Cut," He agreed, taking off his headphones, and looking mildly irritated with everyone.
"Cut!" I called out louder, grinning as some of the crew nodded at me like I was important to this production. I took some food off of Dean's plate and ate it slowly. They did have pretty good food here. A bell rung and the bright lights dimmed.
"Hey, what's up?" The director asked, going over to Tara with his hands on his hips.
"I'm just a little upset," She confessed, her voice betraying her lie. She was pissed.
"Well, with everything that's been going on, who can blame you?" The director was trying to make her see he was empathizing with her while he didn't really care at all.
"I just can't wrap my head around the dialogue, you know?" She admitted, almost embarrassed about what she was saying. "'Salt' - doesn't that sound silly? I mean, why would a ghost be afraid of salt?" Dean and I both chuckled at her question.
"Okay, um…" The director whirled to look at the screenplay writer. "Marty, what do you think?" The writer snapped his phone shut and shrugged noncommittally.
"Not married to salt. What do you want? We still sticking with 'condiments'?" He suggested, straightening in his chair. The man in front of us rifled through the script, shaking his head.
"It just sounds different, not better," The director told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "What else would a ghost be scared of?"
"Oh, you got to be kidding me," The man in front of us whispered, rolling up the script and tapping his chin with it.
"What would a ghost be scared of?" The screen writer muttered to himself before turning back to the director. "Maybe shotguns," He suggested loudly, making the director frown.
"That makes even less sense than salt," The man in front of us spun on his heel angrily.
"These people are idiots," He muttered, stalking away.
"What else would a ghost be scared of? Come on, people!" The director urged, growing tired of the argument.
"How about iron?" Dean snorted with laughter as I called out a very real repellent of vengeful spirits. The director snapped his fingers and pointed at me.
"Yes, that's good," He turned back to Tara, who nodded in agreement before he faced me again. "Come here," I just stood there stunned for a moment before Dean nudged me with his elbow, and I walked forward. "You're sitting here," He gestured to the cluster of director and writer's chairs.
"You don't have to do that," I tried, but he waved my protest away with a hand.
"Are you kidding? That iron thing is gold. I'm not letting you out of my sight," He informed me pompously before pointing to a passing P.A. "You! Get her a chair,"
How's it going over here? I stretched out my hearing to encompass Sammy and Dean's conversation. Where's Mel? Sam questioned, sounding confused. Dean must've pointed in my direction or something, for Sam's next words were, What's she doing over there?
I think she just got a promotion. The light laughter in Dean's voice both calmed me and brought a small smile to my face. The P.A. brought my chair, and I sat in it without hesitation, reaching up to fix my headset. I'd swiped two sets from the table that must've had at least fifty on it.
Okay, so what's going on with the case. Sam decided to let my promotion go and focus on work. I thought you two hated being P.A.s. Or maybe not.
I don't know. It's not so bad. I glanced back at Dean and Sam, vaguely wishing I'd never opened my mouth to say iron. I stopped listening and turned to the actors, each of whom were rehearsing their lines in a whisper.
"Someone needs to get down to audio. The technicians having trouble," I spoke into the microphone on my headphones, hoping Dean would get the message.
"Copy that. Headed there now," Dean's voice came through, making me smile widely. I was enjoying this hunt much more than I'd enjoyed the last couple.
"Hey," I turned to see the writer tapping me with his phone, and I raised my eyebrows in response. "So, this 'iron' thing. You were thinking a necklace," I shook my head in answer to his question.
"A rod maybe. Have it leaning by the fireplace and one of them could pick it up and use it as a weapon," Lord knows, I've done that enough times.
"Genius," The guy muttered, leaning back in his seat.
"I try," I told him with a small smile.
"Audio's good. We're coming to you," Dean's voice came through, and I held up a finger to the guy who'd been about to say more.
"Copy that," I stood from the chair, brushing myself off before turning to the writer. "Have to go. Emergency in lighting," I walked hurriedly towards the south entrance and met Sam and Dean on their way to me.
"Did you tell him about the EMF?" Dean nodded as we made our way to the exit.
"The question is whose the ghost and what does it want," Sam pointed out, and neither Dean nor I argued with his valid point.
"I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene," Dean suggested as we reached the door.
"Way ahead of you," I told him, fishing the disk out of the small pack that was looped on my belt along with a walkie talkie and some other surprisingly useful tools. "Come on," I glanced around briefly before leading them to a trailer and making my way inside without receiving any curious looks.
"Now, where'd you get this DVD?" Sam asked me as I put it into the player and grabbed the remote off the countertop.
"It's called a Daily. I made friends with this girl named Cindy. She's got an on again off again thing with Drew. He burned me an extra copy," I explained, pulling the headphones down around my neck to block out anyone who might have an issue back on set. I sat down on the table in front of the TV as Dean sat next to me.
"Okay, this is it," I pressed pause on the remote I'd been using to fast forward the DVD. "That's where he fell through the roof," I rewinded it slightly before letting it play. They talked for only a moment before the man crashed through the ceiling and screaming ensued.
"Wait, go back," Sam ordered, and I complied. "Right after - right after - yeah, right," I fast forward and rewinded according his vague instructions. "There," I froze it, my eyes instantly focusing on the woman in the background of the shot.
"IT's like 'Three Men and a Baby' all over again," Dean commented, squinting at the figure. Sam shot him a confused look. "Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg, and - I don't know who played the baby,"
"What's your point?" Sam questioned, clearly not understanding Dean's train of thought.
"There's a scene where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film," Dean tried to jog his brother's memory even though I knew it was useless.
"Oh, yeah. In the background of the scene. Spirit photography," I remembered, and Dean nodded confirmation.
"I've seen her before," Sam mused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
Five minutes later we were by the walkie talkies behind the set with Dean and I sitting across from Sam, who was studying the reports he'd managed to dig up. "Here, check this out," Sam handed me the paper as Dean pressed the button on the walkie talkie.
"Yeah, go for Ozzie," Dean spoke into the device as I glanced at the paper.
"Do you have a 20 on Tara?" The woman questioned in a brusque voice.
"No, she's 10-100," I answered her in equally as brusque a voice before turning my full attention to what Sam was trying to show me. 'SUICIDE STUNS HOLLYWOOD' was written in big, bold letters at the top of the printed news article. "Elise Drummond?" I read off her name questioningly.
"Starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from stage nine's rafters right into a scene they're shooting,"
"Just like our man Brad," Dean connected the dots. "So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?"
"Possibly," Sam agreed, leaning back in his seat.
"Well, that would explain the motive part," I frowned as I spoke, though. Something didn't add up. I mean, why now? Why would she all of a sudden seek revenge now?
"We're digging tonight, aren't we?" Dean muttered in what could almost be construed as a whine.
"Which way?" Sam questioned Dean, who held the map he'd insisted on buying in his hands. It was the first time in a long time that he actually got to be the navigator.
"Uh… over here," He pointed left, and we veered to the left. "Hey," I glanced at Dean before following his flashlight beam to the giant, marble Humpty Dumpty that sat as someone's tombstone.
"Well, at least you're getting your five bucks' worth," I commented, making Sam chuckle and Dean throw me a look of mock offense.
"Hey, we got to go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here," Dean informed us, glancing at the map and then up at the tree we were approaching.
"You want to dig him up too?" Sam questioned wryly.
"Bite your tongue, Heathen!" Dean's eccentric answer caused me to laugh loudly. "That's cool," He commented, shining his flashlight on the statue of a guitar player.
"What I don't understand is why it's happening now," I returned our focus back to the case. "So after seventy-five years of being peacefully dead, Elise Drummond suddenly goes on a rampage?"
"Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick," Dean suggested, paying more attention to the tombstones than the case at hand.
"Come on, is it really that scary?" Sam brought up a good point. It wasn't. We faced scarier every day.
"Here we go," Dean stopped in front of Elise's grave. "Yahtzee," I was lookout while the two boys dug the twelve foot deep hole in the ground. They finished digging the grave up, and I threw Dean the crowbar he needed to pry open the tomb. My eyes surveyed the area doubtfully. There was no sign of a ghost. The ghosts almost always turned up to try to stop us from burning them. Sam and I pulled Dean out of the grave, the three of us wasting no time coating the skeleton with salt and gasoline. I lit the matches before throwing them into the grave and watching the fire spread rapidly, eating the skeleton whole.
Dean, Sam, and I went back to the car, and I found myself hoping the hunt wasn't over. I was actually enjoying myself here more than I'd thought I would after I'd found we'd be working a hunt. The past few hunts had been… exhausting. Emotionally more than physically. There was the highway ghost. The trickster. The demon that had been possessing Sam. And, of course, Madison. I sighed heavily, glancing out the window of the Impala to see we had arrived at the motel. I pushed open the door before climbing out of the backseat.
"Hey, I'm tired. I think I'm just going to turn in," I told them. My exhaustion must've showed on my face because both boys suddenly looked mildly concerned, but they nodded anyway, leaving me to walk into the room Dean and I shared.
I turned on the shower, shutting the door to the bathroom before I peeled off my dirty, sweaty clothes before letting the cool water rinse away the grime on my skin. Something told me that it wasn't over. There was something more going on. I'd been having a pretty good day until I made that mistake in the car. I'd thought about the past. Everything that had happened in the past couple months… hell, the past year. Ever since John's death things had been crazy. Dealing with John's death, the demon virus, leaving.
Leaving. I left. How could I have done that? What the hell had I been thinking. And Jez. I knew I should call her soon, but a part of me felt that, perhaps, she was better off if I just didn't. Maybe I should just stay away. No. I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. What was I doing? Dean had said that after we finish this and kill the demon we're out. We'll have a normal life. That's what's best.
I finished my shower and shut off the water, changing into shorts and one of Dean's dark green t-shirts to sleep in. Ever since the nightmares had started again, I'd went back to sleeping in his shirts. I never remembered the nightmares, I just woke up painfully scared and confusingly panicked. I brushed my teeth quickly before opening the door to see Dean already half asleep on the bed. The sight seemed to lighten my heart, and I felt a small smile forming on my lips.
That was what I wanted. He was what I wanted. I wanted to live in a big, suburban house with two kids, who we loved with all my heart. I wanted that with Dean.
Ignoring his muffled protests, I slipped off his shoes, tossing them into the corner of the room without bothering to look where they'd landed. After, I gently pulled off his green flannel, which wasn't that hard to do considering he was on his stomach. I didn't bother with the covers; when I'd thrown his flannel on the chair, I laid down in the bed next to him. He shifted, surprising me by slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me to his side. I rested my head comfortably on his bicep as my other hand rested on his chest, my fingers toying with the pendant he wore around his neck until I drifted off to sleep.
When we woke up, we were in for a nice little surprise. There had been another victim. It took us fifteen minutes to get to stage nine, and when we did we were greeted by a white screen that was stained crimson with blood. There was yellow caution tape surrounding the scene, so none of us could get too close but it was pretty clear what happened. Somehow, he'd gone through a fan.
"Run-in with a giant fan," Sam scoffed, shaking his head. "Same thing happened to an electrician back in sixty-six - a guy named Billy Beard," He continued to inform us as we turned away from the murder site.
"What the hell, guys?" Dean muttered the words I was thinking as well.
"It doesn't seem to be the same ghost though. It's a different M.O.," I pointed out, frowning at how little sense this case was making.
"We already torched her," Dean reminded Sam and I. "Are we dealing with another ghost?" He questioned, and, though the obvious answer was yes, I didn't think so. I thought it was something more. Something had to connect the two murders. "These things don't usually tag-team,"
"Everybody! Gather around, okay? I got an announcement to make," I glanced up ahead at McG, who had apparently taken it upon himself to rally the troops. "Everyone! Huddle in!" We moved closer as he began to speak. "In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days," Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but McG quieted them by raising his hands. "I know, I know. Look, I'm not going to lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week, but we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see 'Hell Hazers II: The Reckoning' on screens all across America. Now we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?" Sam, Dean, and I fought hard to stifle our laughter as we clapped along with the crowd. "But not today. Go home. Someone will call you,"
"We'll dig up stuff on the electrician. You see what else you can get from the footage," I told Sam, gesturing to Dean and myself.
"Okay," He agreed, heading back to the trailer.
6 Hours Later
"Hey," Dean greeted Sam, who repeated the word back to us in a dejected tone of voice from where he was sitting on the couch. Dean and I went straight to the fridge that, unfortunately, only held water.
"So, you find out where the electrician's buried?" Sam questioned us as we both grabbed cold water bottles.
"He wasn't. Billy Beard was cremated," Dean informed him, and Sam let out a groan of frustration.
"Great," He muttered sarcastically. "Now what?"
"We have no idea," I summed up, tapping Sam's knee lightly to get him to move his legs so I could walk between the couch and the coffee table to take a seat next to him. "Find anything here?" I asked hopefully.
"Not in the first six hours," He answered as I took the remote from his hand and Hell Hazers II started it's seventh hour of shooting. "You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie cause they think it sucks," Sam mused, making me laugh lightly.
"Well, they're not wrong," Both boys let out a chuckle at my truthful words. "Wait," I suddenly sat up straight, something catching my ear. I pressed paused and rewound the DVD to when Tara began speaking the incantation.
"Contra omni potentem…" She began, and I frowned at the power that seemed to swirl within her words. That was no ordinary, bullshit Hollywood thing.
"That's real," I whispered, knowing my words were superfluous. Judging by the looks on their faces, they had already caught on to what I was thinking.
"A necromantic summoning ritual," Sam breathed, surprise in his voice. "What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?"
"I don't know," I bit my lip as I thought for a moment. "Let's find out," I stood and walked out of the trailer, knowing the boys would follow.
It was a five minute trip to the studio where the writer's office was, and it was surprisingly easy to get into. When we walked down the hallway towards his door, he was on the phone with someone, who sounded like his employee.
"Well, look, get back to me on this, seriously. No, I'm serious," I didn't bother listening to what the other person was saying as the writer, whose name was Marty, spoke into the phone. "Dude, are you serious? Cause I'm serious," He finally spotted us standing by the doorway and held up a finger. "All right. Cool," He hung up before turning his full attention on us. "Guys, we're all shut down. What are you still doing here?" We cautiously came through the door, and I could almost feel the three of us thinking about a lie we should tell him.
"Yeah, listen, we're sorry, but we, um," I glanced at Sam and Dean to buy myself some time before continuing, "We couldn't help coming here to tell you that we read the script you wrote,"
"And?" Marty prompted, a smile growing on his face.
"It was awesome," I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat at the lie. It was horrible. "Right, guys," I nudged Dean's shoulder, silently telling him to help me out.
"Awesome," He repeated at the same time Sam said, "Yeah, really awesome,"
"I know. It's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it," Marty leaned back to sit on his desk as he grinned widely at us, and I almost felt bad for the guy.
"Yeah. I-I really liked all the attention to detail," Sammy commented, nearing the real reason for our visit. Something about this guy told me that he wasn't responsible for the summoning ritual.
"Dude, right on. That's my thing. I mean, you know, color me guilty, but that is me. I mean, I-I'm a total detail buff," He explained with an excitement that made me smile as well.
"No, I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language and…" Sam trailed off as we saw Marty's face fall.
"What, you mean that latin crap?" We just raised our eyebrows at him as he frowned in disappointment. "No, man. That's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?"
"Wait, I thought Walter was a P.A.," My eyebrows drew together in confusion. I remembered seeing the man around the set wearing the head gear, and I'd just assumed that he worked for someone there.
"No, he's not a P.A. He's got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set," Suddenly, I recalled how pissed he'd been when they'd gotten rid of salt in the movie.
"But he wrote the invocation?" Dean checked, and Marty glanced down, clearly annoyed with our insistence upon the latin ritual he used.
"He wrote a wackjob screenplay. There's no pace. there's no love interset. It's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, ninety percent of it to make it readable, another ten percent to make it good," Dean chuckled at his joke, and Sam and I joined in reluctantly.
"You wouldn't happen to have any copies of the original script lying around, right?" I questioned hopefully, causing the writer's eyes to flick to me for a moment before he nodded. Dean, Sam, and I each took a copy and exited the building before we sat down to read it.
"Should have kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good," Dean noted, and I agreed with him. There wasn't a love interest, but it did have a pace. Almost every reference to ghosts was entirely accurate. Walter knew what he was doing.
"Yeah. And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration," He added, clasping his hands behind his head after throwing the screenplay on the table. "Like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want,"
"Yeah, like kill," I put the pieces together as everything became obvious. "So Walter turns in the screenplay, they accept it but change everything, and now he's killing the suits he thinks are responsible,"
"Motive and means," Sam nodded as it all made sense.
"It's worth checking out," Dean agreed, snapping the screenplay shut.
"We need to get to the set," When I'd opened my mouth, those hadn't been the words I'd been going to say. They just flowed out of me as naturally as if I was telling someone my name.
"What?" Dean frowned in confusion, and I turned to him, my eyes widening as my feelings caught up with my mouth.
"We need to get to the set," I repeated, the bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach with every second that passed. "Now," I bolted up from where I'd been sitting, hearing both boys following me, Dean muttering swear words, as I raced to the car. I managed to get into the passenger's seat before the headache started, a dull throb at first. "Start the car," I ground out as the headache began to worsen, and I focused on breathing in and out, trying to keep at bay what I knew was coming.
"Okay. All right," Dean replied, worry lining his voice.
"Hurry," I whispered, knowing I couldn't keep the sounds away much longer. Already, my hearing was beginning to sharpen as the growl of the Impala faded away.
"What's at the set? Is Walter there?" Sam questioned me rapidly, and it took all my concentration to focus on his voice. "How do you know we have to go there?" He demanded when I didn't respond.
"I just know," I got out through clenched teeth, my breath coming in shorter gasps as my heart pounded violently against my ribcage. I heard myself give a small, strangled cry before the world faded away.
-3rd Person-
"Mel?" Dean glanced over at his girlfriend, who was doubled over in the passenger's seat, holding her head between her hands. "Mel!" He snapped, fear causing his foot to press the accelerator harder. He glanced up at the road only to look back at Mel as she let out a soft cry, her fingers curling around her ears. Sam stared at her in fear for a moment before he realized what was happening. She was having a vision just like his only hers were only hearing. His eyes flicked away from her to the road only to widen as he saw the vehicle in front of them.
"Dean!" At Sam's yell, Dean's eyes snapped back up to the road just in time for him to avoid rear ending a black Mercedes. Suddenly, he jerked the wheel, pulling the car to the side of the road and putting it in park before it had even finished stopping, causing the three of them to jerk forward. "Dean-" Sam's voice began protesting from the back, but Dean didn't let him finish.
"Drive," He ordered Sam before he slid over, allowing his brother room to sit. It was very rare for all three of them to sit in the front seat, but Sam didn't argue as he turned the keys in the ignition and pulled onto the road again. "Mel," Sam glanced across at Dean, who was trying to pull Mel's hands away from her ears as she let out soft cries and whimpers. "I'm here, baby. I'm here," Dean had managed to pull her hands away and now pressed his lips to the top of her hair, murmuring to her comfortingly. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe," It was a softer tone that Dean almost never used, but Sam knew it well . It was a tone that Dean reserved only for Mel.
"Is she okay?" Sam asked, trying to stifle his own worry to focus on the road in front of him.
"She'll be fine," Dean answered him gruffly with a note of protectiveness in his voice. "You're okay," He was speaking directly to Mel now, his voice growing softer.
"It hurts," She muttered, her pained voice making both boys wince, though Sam hid his well. "Damn it, it hurts," Despite her words, her voice grew stronger as the pain ebbed.
"We're here," Sam announced, pulling the car into the parking space and ignoring his crappy park job.
"We need to hurry or Walter'll kill him," She got the door open and stumbled out of her seat into the sunlight.
"Kill who? Whose in there?" Dean demanded as he followed her to the trunk that Sam had just opened.
"The writer," She responded, grabbing a shotgun. "We were right," She added, slinging the shotgun over her shoulder and shoving a few shells in her jacket pocket as Dean picked up a shotgun as well. That was when a terrified scream pierced the quiet night air. The three of them took off towards the sound.
"Walter, please! Walter, help me!" They heard the screen writer begging for his life as he was dragged towards the giant fan by a man, whose head was split wide open. "Help!" Boom. The ghost dissipated, replaced by Mel, who cocked the shotgun again, her eyes scanning the surroundings for Walter.
"You are one hell of a P.A.," Marty told her, relief and adrenaline coursing through him as he stared up at the twenty-eight year old, who finally glanced down at him.
"Thanks," Her lips pulled up in a smile that was half a smirk as she deftly tossed the shotgun to her other hand and reached down to help him up. He accepted her offered hand without hesitation and was on his feet a moment later, now looking down at the woman.
"Would you want to maybe get dinner sometime?" One of her dark eyebrows cocked incredulously, but her lips tightened, suppressing an amused smile.
"Boyfriend," No sooner had she spoke the word than Dean came up beside her, giving Marty an extremely unamused look.
"What are you doing?" Mel's eyes snapped up to Walter, who had started backing away from the three hunters as soon as Sam had turned off the fan.
"Could ask you the same thing, Walter," Sam's voice was lined with steel as he advanced towards the man, who turned and headed for the metal stairs. "Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you?" He climbed the first flight before whipping around to face them.
"You're playing with fire, Walter. You're going to get hurt," Mel helped Sammy, taking a step forward. "You don't know what you're doing," His face shut down, and he glared down at them.
"No, you're the ones that don't know! You don't understand!" With that, Walter turned and sprinted up the next flight.
"You know what? You're right. I don't understand," Sam admitted openly, frowning at the murderer, who was desperately trying to get away from them.
"Just wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something. Years of hard work - years, and then they take it, and they crap all over it!" He yelled accusingly, pointing a finger at Marty, who was standing behind Mel and Dean. The two turned back to look at the writer, who just shook his head like it was all a lie. "And then - and then they want you to smile and say thank you,"
"Walter, listen, it's just a movie. That's it," Sam tried, and Mel almost winced at how bad that sounded. Walter just sighed, ducking his head while he shook it vigorously.
"Look," Walter began before Mel could say anything. "I got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please - please, just leave," He begged the three hunters. "But Martin's got to stay," His voice grew grim and vengeful as he sealed his own fate.
"Sorry, can't do that," Dean called up to him, readjusting his grip on the shotgun. "It's not that we like him or anything," Dean added, causing Mel to throw him an admonishing look as he glanced back at Marty. "It's just a matter of principle,"
"Then I'm sorry, too," Walter told them with an air of finality, holding up the talisman and beginning to mutter in a low voice.
"Walter, wait!" But Mel's shout came too late, for the objects around them had already started rumbling. A figure appeared to their right, his head split open. "Dean," She spoke his name as a warning while two other ghostly figures appeared to either side of the first, flickering in and out of view. "Sam!" She called louder as she and Dean raised their shotguns. "Get behind us," She ordered Marty, who wasted no time in heeding her demand.
"Come on, come on," Dean egged the ghosts on as they advanced towards the hunters. Suddenly, they vanished and everything stopped moving. Everything was eerily quiet.
"Dean, we need to run," No sooner had Mel spoke the words than Sam let out a cry as he was flung backwards onto the leafy ground. Mel and Dean sprinted to Sam's side as he scrambled up shakily.
"Come on, come on! Move!" Dean yelled, pushing the three before him down the path towards the house. Lights exploded in showers of sparks on either side of them as they ducked their heads and kept running. Dean paused to shoot one of the ghosts with his shotgun as Sam slammed into the door of the old, beaten up house, throwing it wide open. He waited till Dean and Mel were both safely through before slamming it closed again, him and Marty on one side of it and Mel and Dean on the other.
"Come out to the coast. We'll get together. Have a few laughs," Dean's imitation of Bruce Willis caused Mel to let out a panting laugh while she quickly reloaded her shotgun with the shells she'd shoved into her jacket. Her laugh was abruptly cut short as she turned her attention to the other side of the house. It was completely open.
"Oh, man!" Dean exclaimed in annoyance, his eyes having followed hers.
"Well, that's just cheating," She muttered in annoyance, cocking her shotgun and causing Dean and Sam to let out small laughs.
"I can't frickin' believe this. Ghosts are real," Marty whispered loudly, as if he were the one telling Sam, Dean, and Mel about the supernatural world.
"What makes you say that?" Dean asked sarcastically as he cocked his shotgun as well.
"But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?" Marty asked between pants.
"That thing he held up. It's called a talisman," Mel answered him, glancing at Sam, who's eyes had suddenly lit up in a look she knew all too well. He had just had an epiphany. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and clicked a few buttons quickly, causing it to beep loudly.
"What are you doing?" Marty hissed at him, still curious despite the perilous danger they were all in.
"If the film cameras pick these suckers up, then, maybe…" He trailed off, lifting his phone's camera to take in the surroundings.
"Your phone's camera will too," Mel finished for him, raising her shotgun. "Brilliant," She was focused on the opening in front of her, so she didn't see the way Sam's eyes lit up or the small smile that he tried desperately to suppress. "Tell me where," Her words caused him to snap into the present, and he focused on the small screen.
"Right there!" Both she and Dean shot it in the head, causing it to vanish from his screen.
"You want to get the next one?" She questioned, glancing at Dean with a small, amused smile tugging at her lips. He glanced at her before he felt a smile pulling up the frown that had become etched into his lips.
"No, after you," He gestured for her to go ahead of him. "Ladies first,"
"Such a gentleman," She responded, making him laugh lightly as she raised her shotgun.
"If you're done, there's another one," Sam pointed, rolling his eyes at their ill timed flirting. She shot this one in the chest, and it dissipated with a demonic shriek. A noise above them caught her attention, and one glance upwards told her Walter was attempting to flee.
"Sam, look," Sam raised his eyes as well to see Walter running across the catwalk above them. "Give the phone to Marty," He turned to do as she said.
"Here, you get the idea," Marty nodded, his eyes holding both fear and excitement as Sam handed him the phone.
"I'm going with you," Mel told Sam as he started for the door. He glanced at the gun in her hands doubtfully.
"The shells are rock salt. It won't kill him," Sam reminded her, and she just cocked an eyebrow before cocking the gun.
"But it'll hurt like hell," Sam grinned, more than happy that Mel was worried enough about him to come along.
"Stay safe," Dean spoke the words, and Sam knew the next part by heart.
"Always," It had become Mel and Dean's little exchange whenever either of them were going into danger without the other. Usually, there was a kiss involved, but sometimes things were moving too fast for one. "Come on. I know a short cut," Sam was snapped out of his thoughts by Mel pulling him through a door and into an unknown hallway. They came to a set of stairs and took it two at a time until they reached a door, running through it just in time to see Walter coming through a parallel one.
"It's over, Walter," Sam told him calmly, taking a step towards the obviously frightened man.
"Just give it to us," Mel held out her hand for the talisman as he took it in his hand. "No!" She screamed as he hurled it towards the ground, shattering parts of it. She stared at the fragments of the once powerful bit of craftsmanship, knowing what was going to happen. She still remembered what happened to Sue Ann and the reaper.
"There. Okay, now no one can have it," He told her as if he'd done them all a favor.
"Why would you do that?" She whispered, her eyes flicking from the broken wood to Walter. It wasn't the anger in her eyes that unnerved him; it was the pity. It was the way you'd look at a casket as a funeral.
"Why not?" He replied to her question, trying to remain unaffected by the horror in both the woman and the man's eyes.
"'Cause you just freed them," Sam explained to him just as the door burst open and Dean and Marty came through the door. "You can't stop them now. Walter, you brought them back… forced them to murder. They're not going to be very happy with you,"
"He's right. They're going to seek revenge," Mel added, her eyes sad as she waited for the spirits to come and carry out their bloody revenge.
"So what?" Were Walter's arrogant last words as he spread his arms out. Then he let out a choked cry, falling on his face, as if something had grabbed his legs and yanked him back forcefully. The air was filled with demonic growls as well as petrified screams while spots of blood appeared on Walter's back. The spots grew larger and larger until his back was soaked in crimson liquid.
Mel's eyes flicked away from the gruesome sight before her, not being able to watch any longer. It wasn't the blood that she hated, and it wasn't the death either. It was the dying. What they did should be about saving people. She hated watching people die, even murderers who probably deserved it. Dean met her eyes calmly, and he inclined his head almost imperceptibly at the door. She nodded gratefully.
-Still 3rd Person-
Mel followed Dean out the door, her mind still replaying his last words over and over again like a broken record. A very angry, broken record. I need to get some air. How could he just leave Sammy like that?
"Dean," Dean didn't turn around, but, instead, kept heading towards the car he'd stolen to drive to the cemetery. "Dean!" This time she grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her.
"What?!" He snarled the word at her, but she refused to flinch back. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to go back in there and sit with Sammy," She shot back, gesturing to the motel room window that they stood in front of. He glanced at the dark window before looking back at her, a scowl overtaking his features.
"I told you, I just need some air. I'll come back," She glared at him, angry at the way he was blowing off Sammy, who was still lying injured inside. He made a move towards the car, but she managed to get in front of him, blocking his way.
"You can't take the car," She folded her arms across his chest. She knew if he took the car in the state he was in, he would get pulled over by the police and that would be it. Getting arrested in a stolen car was no minor crime, especially if it's an adult.
"Why not?" He demanded, his fiery green eyes daring her to oppose him, but she set her jaw, meeting his fire with her own determination.
"You can't run the risk of getting pulled over," He rolled his eyes at her, even more angry now.
"I won't get pulled over," She scoffed at his half hearted promise.
"The way you drive?" She frowned at him as he glowered back at her. "You have to go back in and be there for Sammy-"
"Be there for Sammy?" He repeated my words mockingly as he glared. "Sammy almost died, Mel!" Her gaze softened at his exclamation. "Sammy almost died because I wasn't there to protect him! I wasn't there,"
"You're here now," She reminded him, automatically stepping closer to him to put a hand on his cheek comfortingly. She checked herself just before she touched him, but the damage was done. He'd turned his head to meet her eyes, finding them inches from his own. "Your job is to look after him. Right now, he's scared, and he needs you," She whispered, her breathing growing unsteady at his closeness despite her efforts to control it.
His eyes flicked to her lips before he caught her gaze again. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it so damn much it hurt. She swallowed hard, and he realized her hands were trembling. She must've caught on to his realization because the next second her hands were tucked in her back jean pockets. He leaned toward her, but she turned her head to look at the ground.
"Just go back in," She spoke the words in a whisper. "Please. I'll dump the car,"
Inside the motel room, Sammy turned his head towards the window, watching the two people he loved most glare at each other in a heated argument. Suddenly, the arguing stopped, and they just stared at each other, an inch or two separating them. To Sam, the desperation and longing was obviously drawn on both their faces as they held the eye contact. His heart lurched painfully as he saw the lone tear travel down Mel's cheek when she turned away from his brother. She had turned away too soon to see the hand that had come up to cup her cheek. It hesitated for a moment before dropping, As he turned back to the ceiling, Sam wondered briefly how they could stand to live with each other while they were both so obviously still in love.
-1st Person-
"Told you we could sneak into her trailer," Dean grinned arrogantly at me from where he lay next to me, propping himself up on his elbow. In answer, I wound my hand around to the back of his head to pull it down so I could meet his lips with mine.
"I never doubted you," I replied after I'd pulled away, smiling widely.
"What do you think of this city?" Dean questioned, making me laugh a little.
"I think we make great P.A.s," I replied, causing Dean's mouth to twitch up into a small smile, but my laughter died when I caught sight of his eyes.
"I'm serious," I knew he was; it was written in his eyes. "What do you think of it here?" I bit my lip in thought for a second, studying his face.
"I think wherever you are is good enough for me," I answered truthfully. His smile could've lit up a small town. He pressed his lips to mine eagerly, and I responded instantly, reaching up my other arm to cup his face. I rolled onto my back without letting go of his face, forcing him to roll with me. He broke the kiss with a laugh that I echoed, but my laughter diminished when I heard the familiar beep of my phone receiving a text. I only had to glance at the caller ID to know what it was about.
"It's Sam," I told Dean, who groaned in annoyance before rising from the mattress we'd been on. I pulled on my skinny jeans and simple black shirt before lacing up my boots. I grabbed my brown jacket as Dean opened the trailer door, descending the steps, but freezing as he caught sight of the guy he'd almost hit with the door. I reached the doorway before I froze as well, staring at him as his eyes flicked from Dean to myself and back.
"Isn't that Tara's…" He trailed off, gesturing to the trailer as Dean and I reached the ground, looking slightly guilty as we shut the door behind us.
"Yeah," I responded as Sammy's eyes flicked between us with an emotion I couldn't read before he scoffed, shook his head, and continued ahead of us.
"You know, that guy Marty got one thing right," Dean commented, causing me to glance back at him from where I'd started to follow Sam.
"What's that?" I questioned, smiling slightly as he cupped my face with both of his hands, his thumb tracing my lips.
"You are one hell of a P.A.," My laugh was cut off by his lips against mine.
"Guys," Sam snapped from up ahead. We broke apart to see him giving us an admonishing look to which I rolled my eyes. Dean slipped an arm around my waist as we walked towards a background with a sunset painted on. It moved just in time to make way for us to walk through.
"God, I love this town," Dean mused, and, as I looked around at our surroundings, I found I couldn't have agreed more.
Grapejuice101: Thanks so much! I'm happy you loved it, and yeah I was definitely trying to make it emotional. That episode is absolutely heartbreaking especially the end.
Iloveallanime18: Thanks for the review! And sorry but I can't give too much away because that would ruin the story. I can, however, tell you that there will be something to do with the Mel/Sam angle before the season ends.
JJS4: It really was heartbreaking! I nearly cried when I wrote it, honestly. And thank you! I'll try to get the next chapter out as fast as I can!
Ladysunshine6: I'm glad you liked Mel and Dean comforting each other at the end, and Sam's part was really sad. I'll try to keep it up!
WinchesterBenson97: You're welcome for the graduation present! Hope you loved the chapter (and this one as well)!
Chella8181: I can't give too much away about the Mel/Sam storyline. I'm glad you like her and Dean, though (I think you're going to like this chapter)!
Theia-The-Planet: You're welcome for the update (I know they've been going slower than usual lately and I'm sorry for that). I'm trying to write Dean and Mel's relationship as best I can, and I'm glad you love them!
Sarahmichellegellarfan1: Currently, her and Dean are planning on getting out of the life after they kill yellow eyes. As I stated earlier, I can't give too much away about Sam except that there will be some new information coming soon. I would hate to write Dean heartbroken as much as you would hate to read it (I already have to write it when I write flashbacks and that's hard enough). I'm glad you're excited for this update, and I hope you're not disappointed!
MsNico: I'm glad you liked the chapter and that my story is one of your favorites. I definitely understand what you mean by addicted to reading fanfics. Don't worry, I have no plans to stop writing this story, and I'm excited about the end of this season and writing the next couple of chapters!
Guest: No spoilers, but I also really love the Mel/Dean dynamic that I've created as well! I hope you keep reading and reviewing!
anime0angel: Hey! I really love reading your reviews because they give criticism as well as praise, which is good because I want to make my story as good as it can be. I don't think I got the full heartbreaking affect of the episode until I wrote this chapter and realized how sad it really was. I'm glad you love the flashbacks so much; believe me, a lot of thought went into which ones I would write and how. He liked Madison, but he was also still hung up on Mel. I understand why you got confused; I realized after I published it that I wrote it too much like he was using Madison as a distraction, which wasn't the case. I'm glad you like how I write the 'sex' scenes. I feel like writing explicit sex scenes takes away from the overall story and turns it into something it isn't. I'll keep in mind about the 4 though, lol. I also totally get what you mean by spoilers (I do that to myself all the time as well). Reviews and PMs really inspire me to continue writing, so please don't stop reviewing!