Sam and Dean Winchester are the property of Kripke Enterprises and the CW. I don't own anything.

A/N: If you want to know why Dean has a pretty golden glow and how Sammy learned to change into a Sphinx you should read "Sons of the Morning".

Hunter's Moon

Chapter 3

The Circus Comes to Town

Final verse

My lips smile no more, my heart loses its lightness,

No dream of the future my spirit can cheer.

I only can brood on the past and its brightness

The dear ones I long for again gather here.

From every dark nook they press forward to meet me,

I lift up my eyes to the broad leafy dome,

And others are there, looking downward to greet me.

The ash grove, the ash grove, again is my home.

The Ash Grove (Welsh Llwyn Onn) traditional Welsh folk song

First Published 1862

English lyrics by John Oxenford

Sam and Dean walked back to the parking lot. When they got there Ranger Randy was doing his best to guide three huge white trailers into the space he had reserved. The vehicles were not nimble. There was the dressing rooms trailer, the office trailer and the film studio trailer. Randy was trying to get one each on the East, West and South sides of the lot in a neat square, leaving the North side open as an entrance.

Dean and Sam walked up. "Hey Randy, " Dean smiled. "Need some help?"

"That would be great guys. Do you see what I'm trying to do here?" Randy answered in a high pitched, stressed out voice.

Sam looked at the lot, "Yeah, it looks pretty simple to me."

"Then why can't these guys understand what I want them to do?" Randy whimpered.

Dean looked up at one of the drivers. The man was about twice Randy's age and obviously enjoying the grief he was inflicting on the young man. Dean reached up and opened the door and swung himself into the passenger seat.

Sam followed his brother's lead and picked out the more obnoxious looking of the two remaining drivers. He swung into that vehicle like Dean had done.

Dean looked at his chosen driver. "Do you have a license to drive a Class three vehicle in South Dakota?" the driver's hands froze to the steering wheel.

"Who are you?" The driver muttered. "You passing out tickets?"

Dean leaned back in the seat. "You just do what the Ranger wants you to do and all will be forgiven. Keep screwing with him and we'll call in the Head Ranger. You'll be walking home a poorer man. Dakota Rangers don't need to put up with your crap. The nearest bus stop is in a place called Spearfish about 25 miles away. We'll see to it that you walk every freaking step of the way."

Muttering under his breath the driver evidently decided that he didn't want to test the waters any further. The trailer slid neatly into place, just like Ranger Randy wanted. Dean looked up to see Sam's hostage doing the same thing. Dean wondered why kind of bull crap his brother had come up with. They would have to compare notes.

"I'm reporting this to my union, asshole." The driver decided to take another shot. "You can't threaten me."

"That's just what I can do," replied Dean smoothly. "This is the West. We'll lose you in the Badlands and you can be dinner for the vultures in about 48 hours, union or no union. So shut up and do whatever Ranger Randy wants you to do, even if it's flapping your arms and making noises like a chicken. Got it?"

Dean left the truck driver turning red. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. Must be a joy on the highway, Dean mused.

Dean went back and stood beside Ranger Randy. He may, just may, have let his glow brighten a little. He liked Randy and thought the Ranger most likely needed a little petting after the antics of the truck driving assholes. Sam joined them.

"Did you guys find any good scenes?" Randy asked.

"Oh, yes," Dean responded. "The map was a great help. It got us right back on track and up to speed. We're pretty much back on schedule. As soon as we get the director's approval, we'll get the camera crews set up."

"I have some questions, Randy." Sam spoke up. "We've picked out the entrance to the mine, the whorehouse foundations and the edge of the trees at the South end of town as hot spots. Do you know of any historical incidents that took place at those spots?"

Dean cut in. "Those buildings still standing in town, they're all fakes, aren't they?"

Randy rubbed his chin, evidently a nervous habit. "You guys are good, aren't you? They teach you how to do that in 'scene scouting' school?"

Dean laughed, "No school, Randy. Just raw talent, as those idiots, the Ghostfacers, always claimed."

Randy went on. "OK, the buildings are fake. Only cultural historians find old building foundations fascinating. Tourists want more flash." He turned and spoke to Sam. "The three places you mentioned are definitely 'live'. I'm not supposed to say anything but the mine is where those tourists disappeared."

Sam nodded. "Perfectly understandable; don't want to scare the tourists that much. They're only up here for a little tingle from a maybe ghost; not a full-blown fright from a real one."

"You got it," agreed Randy. "No good if you think something's gonna' eat your kid. The whorehouse foundations were marked on the map. Not surprised that you picked them. And the woods, well that's a whole different thing."

"What'd mean a different thing?" asked Dean.

"Lots of weird noises down there among the trees, crying and wailing; don't like being there at night." Randy replied.

A couple of cars pulled into the lot. Randy waved them over and they parked in front of the 'office' trailer. Men started getting out of the cars and one of them gestured to Randy and Dean and Sam to come over.

"Hi, there" a sort of chubby, older man with thinning hair reached out to shake their hands." Karl McConna, Executive Producer." He turned to a second man standing behind him. "This is Pres Fowler, the Director." The director is a thin, tense little gray-haired man with an annoying habit of tapping a pen on his teeth. He nodded to the group. "And who are you all?"

During a lot of cross handshaking they managed to sort themselves out. "Ranger Randy Elsworth." "Sam and Dean Campbell, your scene scouts"

McConna paused. "I thought the scene scouts were a couple." He pulled out a small black notebook and flipped the pages. "An Addie and George Prescott, married couple, were who I was told I was going to meet."

Dean slid in smoothly, "Called away on a family emergency. Addie's mother had a stroke. George gave us a call and asked us to fill in. The agency didn't call you?"

"No, they didn't. Well you're here so that's OK. You want to take Pres around and show him what you found?"

Sam and Dean walk off with the Director. Behind them more cars pulled in and people began to unload equipment from trunks. A catering truck showed up and the noise began to increase. The only people who apparently hadn't shown up were the 'stars', Corey Putter, his partner, Jack Evans and their 'cameraman ' and straight man, Ben Twill.

The Director, Pres Fowler, liked their 'scene' locations and complimented them on discovering such good 'backgrounds'. He seemed pleased and kept sneaking peeks at Dean. "You do any acting, Dean?" He finally asked.

Dean smiled and backed off, trying not to let the 'glow' pull any crap. "No, no consideration at all. Never thought about it. Why?"

"I might want Corey to interview you and your brother about some 'paranormal' stuff you noticed while wandering around here. Don't worry; we'll write you up a script."

"That'd be great!" Dean responded just before Sam poked him in the back. "When would this air? Like, not right away, right?"

"This episode won't be scheduled for airing for at least two months, maybe longer. We already have a lot of finished product; enough for several weeks' worth of shows." Pres was fiddling with a little view finder and didn't see Dean smack Sam's hand away. "There'll be money in it for you two, more than what you're getting for the scouting."

"Sounds good to us," Dean agreed. "You got what you need? Ready to go back to the trailers?"

Pres walked in front on the way back down the hill. He could hear the Campbells arguing about something but couldn't quite make out the words. He would have been surprised if he had.

XXXXXXX

When they got back to the parking lot they found that the 'stars', Corey, Jack and Ben, had shown up.

Corey, a dark haired 'pretty boy' dressed in a tight T-shirt imprinted with glittery "Ghost Quest" insignia and tight jeans, came over to shake hands with Dean. He was evidently eyeing Dean as 'pretty boy' competition and not very happy about it. Dean gave him a huge smile, showing off his perfect white teeth and let out a little bit more on his glow. It made him look like he had the world's most fantastic suntan with a little bit of 'glitter' of his own.

When Corey held on to his hand and turned to introduce his partners, Dean saw a piece of a tattoo running up the back of Corey's neck. It was just enough of a peek to leave his fans, mostly women Dean thought, panting for more. Part of a tattoo on his bicep preformed the same tease.

"Pretty smart," thought Dean. "Bring 'em back hoping for more skin." He could see that working week after week and he wondered if this guy had anything else going on beside his body, like real ghost knowledge.

In the meantime Corey was introducing his partners, a quiet, thin man called Jack Evans and their "cameraman" Ben Twill. Twill had a kind of open goofy smile on his face and a goatee. He seemed the friendliest of the group.

Once again the Winchesters were treated to a round of cross handshaking. "Sam and Dean Campbell, your scene scouts and, if Pres Fowler is right, your second set of interviewees after Ranger Randy."

"Really?" Corey responded. "You know, we do all this stuff out of order on a show so why don't we just get this out of the way right now?" He waved to a group of technicians standing in front of the film trailer and Ben Twill hoisted his camera up on his shoulder.

"Well, Pres told us he would be getting us a script," Dean objected.

"Oh, I'm sure you guys can handle this," Corey smirked. "Just talk about all the good ghost stuff you saw around here." He glanced back at his partner, Jack and he shrugged, signaling his willingness to go along with whatever plans Corey had cooked up.

Dean caught on to what Corey was doing. He wanted to make the Winchesters to look like idiots. He expected them to freeze up on camera or stutter or not have anything to say and stand there with their mouths open. Dean thought to himself that Corey really wasn't focusing on the other 'pretty boy', Sam.

"Hold on for a minute, Corey,' Sam interjected. "Let me get a couple of things." He took off across the lot, aimed right at Pres Fowler.

In a few minutes grips were bringing over chairs and Pres Fowler was standing behind the camera men. The whole set up was impromptu but was taking on a professional air. Corey had a canvas director's chair shoved into the back of his legs and a mike pushed into his hands while the Winchesters got chairs too. Sam saw to it that Dean was seated in front. Corey would have to perform gymnastics to block a shot of Dean's face now.

Corey did a perfunctory introduction but in, at least, a professional manner, then turned and shoved the mike in front of Dean's face in a last ditch effort to conceal him.

Dean put up a hand and pushed the mike away, "Corey, you need to ask Sam about what we found out. He's the detail man of our team."

That did it. Corey gave up and put the mike in Sam's face

Now Sam was off and running. Corey was going to find out that trying to stop Sam from talking was like trying to stop a waterfall by standing under it.

"Taking things in a chronological order, the first site we should visit is the woods at the South end of town. That is the site of the oldest incident here, the murder of a peaceful Sioux camp, mostly women and children. The first settler here was James Redpath in 1881 who started a simple apple orchard. The orchard is still here and he existed harmoniously with the tribe but when a gold strike was made and the miners moved in around 1885, the tribe was doomed. The laws of the time allowed massacres of 'savages' without repercussion and the whole tribe was slaughtered one night. We should visit the camp at night because that's when you are supposed to be able to hear the women weeping for their lost children."

"The next best site is the entrance to the Iron Hill Mine, up behind the town to the North." Sam took a breath and Corey jumped into the flow of wards.

"That's very interesting, Sam." Corey said, trying to wrestle control of the interview back.

Dean snorted. Good luck, he thought. He knew it took more than that to stop Sam in full flood.

"Not done, yet, Corey" Sam went on, taking another deep breath first. "There were a bunch of intersecting mines in the hills and an adjoining mine, the Seabury-Coffin mine's miners accidently dug into the Iron Hills Mine. It turned out to be a good thing because during a mine fire the only miners that made it out went out through Seabury-Coffin. The rest of the miners burned to death in the Iron Hills Mine and the bodies were never recovered. Once again at night you're supposed to be able to hear them screaming and the ghosts supposedly cluster around the exit they were never able to reach."

"Holy crap, man. "said Jack Evans. "You tell these stories really well." Ben Twill and the other camera men were all zoomed in on Sam's face.

"One last thing. Some idiot built a smelter in front of the Iron Hills Mine in 1887. The fumes from the smelter, which was on hill above the town, flowed down and killed every cat in town. The rats moved in and in 1891 a diphtheria epidemic struck. The two whorehouses, Fannie Hill's and Lottie Belmont's were used as morgues, cutting down on the parties considerably. The signs that read "Keep out Black Diphtheria" stayed in place until 1910. That and the decline in silver prices, pretty much killed the town off. There was sporadic mining afterwards but the town's last resident, an old man named Raspberry Brown, died in 1939." Sam, amazingly, stopped talking. Dean thought it was amazing.

Pres Fowler looked ecstatic. He had very useable material just about fall in his lap. Dean felt that his and Sam's positions with this group were solid. Corey Putter looked a little pissed off, but they could live with that.

Pres Fowler spoke up. "I can see filming in front of the mine and in front of the trees where the Indian camp was, but what can we film for the whorehouse story? "

"There are a couple of picturesque fake buildings the Forest Service built for the tourists. They are almost right next to the whorehouse foundations. You could film in front of them or just have them in the background as you stand in the whorehouse foundations." Dean suggested.

Pres looked at him "You know, you two guys are the best scene scouts I have ever met. Do you get a lot of work up here in the boonies?"

"We do OK," Dean responded. "And we like the wide open spaces. Not much for city living."

XXXXXXX

There was still plenty of daylight left so Pres decided that they would film the whorehouse site first. As they all trailed over together, Dean noticed that Sam was missing. He wondered what his brother was up to.

There was, of course, the problem of Walt still chained to his spine in the trunk of the Impala. It was something that Sam needed to take care of but, even so, Dean was willing to bet that Sam was contemplating letting the cat out to play. Corey could be an asshole, even if he was cheerful about it and Dean knew his brother didn't appreciate Corey's efforts to stand in Dean's light. He just hoped it didn't get nasty because the Sphinx seemed to lack a sense of humor.

It took a while to set up for the shoot and get everyone placed. Dean just stood back and watched, keeping an eye out for Sammy. Finally, after it seemed like forever; the camera focused on Corey and he started telling Sam's story about the whorehouses getting used as a morgue.

Things were progressing smoothly when there was a loud click and the door on the fake building started to open ever so slowly. Every eye switched over to the building, except Dean's. He had a real good idea who was opening that door.

Corey played right into the camera…"Ben, did you get that?" He acted all excited and ramped up the tension. Dean had to admit that Corey was good at his job.

The whole lot of them started moving toward the building. Corey's partner, Jack Evans was out in front. He entered the building and let out a loud shout. "What the hell! Somebody get in here with me!" Corey pushed the door open wider and everyone got a good look at what appeared to be a human spine lying on a table in the middle of the room. Opening the door let the sunlight play over the bones and there was no mistaking what they were all looking at.

Dean put his head in his hands and sat down in one of the spare canvas director's chairs, muttering to himself, "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy."

The door suddenly slammed shut and everyone heard Jack Evans scream. The cameras kept rolling. Pres Fowler seemed to be beside himself with excitement. Dean was close enough to hear the man mumbling, "Best episode, ever. This is great. Best one."

Just then the door was flung open and Jack Evans stumbled out. Corey ran up and grabbed his partner's arms. "Are you alright, Jack? Are you OK? What happened in there?" Corey waved to a grip, "Get him a chair and some water!" There was a scurry of activity and a chair and a bottle of water was there almost instantly. Ghost Quest was dropping the "three guys alone in the wild" ploy in favor of taking care of one of their own.

Jack took a drink then put his head down by his knees. "I saw a giant cat. It came up from behind the door and slammed it. The damn thing was seven feet tall. I think it had wings and it was transparent Then it took the spine in its teeth and disappeared. We got anything better than water?"

"It said 'have a nice day' before it disappeared." Jack's hands were still shaking. "Have a nice day, my ass."

Just then, Ben Twill dropped his camera and screamed.

"What the hell is going on around here?" Corey didn't seem to know which way to turn.

"Something ran its hand down my back. I felt it. It scared the crap out of me." Ben Twill, already excitable by nature, was now shaking. Another grip brought another chair and some more water.

Pres Fowler was almost dancing, he was so happy.

Dean sat still, holding his head in his hands and trying not to laugh. He was going to have to take it back. The Sphinx did have a sense of humor.

Corey Putter looked around the shambles that was his film setup. His partners were having breakdowns. His Director appeared to be dancing a jig. The one thing he did notice among all the other madness was that guy, Dean Campbell, was sitting there laughing.

"Campbell,' Corey snapped. "Where's your partner?"

XXXXXXX

When they all made it back to the parking lot there was general agreement that everyone needed some rest. There would be no further filming now. The night shots would happen tomorrow night. Dean was in total agreement. Sam needed some time to get back from Plitvice. Then Dean needed some time to slap his brother around for being a smart ass.

Dean sat on the hood of the Impala with a beer in his hand, waiting for his brother. He had eaten from the catering truck, his favorite Hollywood tradition and he was content just to sit and watch the stars. Because he wasn't hunting, his guard was down. Something he should have never allowed. He was unaware that Corey Putter and his partner Jack Evens were watching him from inside their trailer with the lights out

It had taken Corey a while to convince Jack that keeping an eye on Sam and Dean was important. Jack had been with Corey for a number of years now and, even though Corey could be very annoying, Jack knew that there was a mind behind that 'pretty boy' face and he had come to trust Corey's judgment If Corey said there was something 'off' about the Campbells, then Jack was ready to go along for the ride.

Sometime shortly after ten at night Sam came walking out of the woods. He climbed up on the Impala's hood and took the beer Dean was holding for him.

"Walt all settled in his new home?" Dan asked.

"Oh yeah," Sam agreed. "He's just freaking out completely. Pulling at his collar like a rabid dog. At least he has Roy to talk to. They deserve each other for the next thousand years or so."

The Winchesters tapped their bottles together and Dean saluted "To Walt and Roy, may they live happily together for the next thousand years."

Their laughter pealed softly through the parking lot.

Corey and Jack appeared out of the darkness and confronted the Winchesters. "Just who are you guys? Where have you been Sam? You have anything to do with that show out by the foundations today? "

Sam looked them straight in the eyes. "Just what the hell could I have to do with what happen today?"

"Well, you were the only guy missing." Jack said.

"What about it? What do you think I did?" Sam answered.

"Just be aware that we are watching you guys. Any more weird stuff goes on and we're going to do something about it." Corey huffed.

"Oh?" inserted Dean. "And just what would that be, cupcake?" He slid off the car and pushed into Corey's face. They were of a height and squared off nose to nose.

Jack grabbed Corey's arm. "Come on before he busts you in the face. That would delay the show by days if you had to heal up. Knock it off, you two. Sam's right. What are we accusing them of? Turning into a giant transparent cat? Come on." Jack dragged his hot-blooded partner off and back to the trailer.

XXXXXXX

Sam and Dean settled into the Impala. Their choices were limited. They could drive all the way back to Spearfish, they could sleep in the car or, if Randy was still around, maybe they could sleep in the office. For right now they decided to make their hunting plans in the impala. It was the most private place they could think of.

"Do we have a plan, Sam? What's going on around here?" Dean asked.

"There are two mild mannered female ghosts by the whorehouse. They are almost gone on their own, fading away to mere wisps. I don't think they are bothering anyone but themselves. They worked in the houses and their pain took place so long ago they have almost forgotten what they are waiting for. It wouldn't take much to move them along. A word or two is all they need. A reminder that they are dead now and no longer tied to the house. You could do it, just standing there and telling them to go." Sam looked at his empty hands. "Or we could just ignore them. They will eventually fade."

"The Sioux are more difficult. Their hundred years of mourning have welded their spirits into place. They grieve daily for their lost children and the pain keeps them here. I think they will need to be salted and burned.'

"We should go start digging," Dean said. "We can burn them tomorrow night but get it all prepared in the daylight, if we can get away from these people."

"The really tough one is the mine ghost." Sam continued. "I think it has turned vengeful. We can't get to the bones; they are in the mine somewhere. I don't know where it is hiding the missing tourist bodies and, I suspect, our missing scene scouts, Addie and George. Let alone how it made their car disappear."

Sam went on. "I can't talk to it; it's not interested in talking. It's only interested in killing. I think we are looking at a spell now; something to bind it and seal it. I'll have to do some research."

"That's the plan then. First thing is finding and digging up those Sioux bones." Dean slapped his leg awake and opened the car door. "These Hollywood types are probably going to sleep past noon, especially if they are going to do the scene at night. Let's start digging."

"No, Dean, let's do it in the morning. Less noise then if we have to shoot some attacking spirits with the shot guns." Sam objected. "Right now, let's get a little sleep". They settled themselves into the embrace of the Impala, as they had done a hundred times before.

XXXXXXX

That night, after sunset, the film crew and Sam stood where everything had been set up in front of the trees for this segment of Ghost Quest. Everything was in place to try and capture the Sioux women crying for their children. Once again, Corey was front and center, whispering the tale that Sam had told them days ago about the massacre of the Innocents.

Things seemed to be proceeding nicely. The wind through the ponderosa pines recalled the weeping of long ago. There was a heavy sense of sadness throughout the area. Night had fallen and the sky was full of stars.

Just as Corey was winding up his story the cameras began to pan the trees. Twinkling light of fires appeared, one after another. Sam knew there should be seven. That was the number that they had dug up, salted and soaked in gasoline.

Might as well give the TV show another boost, they decided. They didn't want to burn in the day time. Smoke attracted the forest service like flies to honey. These small, hot and quick fires they hoped would escape the service's eagle eyes. They had forgotten about Ranger Randy.

Randy ran past Sam towards the fires with a phone to his ear. Sam tripped him and in 'helping' him back to his feet, stepped on the phone. Sam felt pretty good about his deception until he raised his eyes and found Jack Evans staring right at him. Sam now knew he had two strikes against him.

Moments later Dean materialized beside him, apparently coming from the parking lot, not the trees. "All done?' asked Sam.

"No problems," Dean replied. "They didn't even attack they were so bound up in their single minded grief. Never felt better than about a salt and burn than this one. That had to be stopped."

"Let's go tonight and take care of the mine ghost." Dean said. "I really think we've been here too long. Something's going to happen."

"We never found the bodies or the car." Sam reminded him.

"Let it go, Sam." Dean replied. "They could have been lured anywhere in this forest. We don't have time to search under every leaf and cave on the whole mountain. It's past time that we left."

They walked back to the parking lot, leaving their new found 'friends' behind them. Winchesters with itchy feet should not be impeded. Sam sat on the ground behind the car and mixed up the necessary materials. When he was finished he had a Mason jar of what looked like brown paint and a bucket of various dried and aromatic herbs.

They took off to seal and bind the mine ghost.

Once at the mine entrance Sam painted every flat surface he could find with esoteric looking symbols, chanting as he went. Dean stood guard to make sure they were not disturbed.

After Sam's art project was finished he sat down cross legged on the ground and set his bucket of herbs on fire. Still chanting he waved the smoke toward the entrance. Finally, after the fire went out, Sam rose from the ground.

"Finished?" Dean asked.

Just then a voice broke in on them. "Just what are you finished with?" Corey Putter and Jack Evans stepped out of hiding.

Dean turned to face them, letting them see his gun. "Come on, Sam. Let's get out of here."

Corey put his hand on Sam's arm. "Tell us, what is all this?"

Sam looked into the men's eyes. They seem sincere. "This is the real deal. This is what you were supposedly looking for when you started out on your quest, before it all turned into a T.V. show. Let us go. We're finished here. You should never see us again."

Dean pitched in. "You people should be careful what you stick your noses into. Someday something real is going to bite you on the ass and either you'll die or one of your buddies will die. Better you stay out of the dark."

No one had anything else to say. The Winchesters left for their car and twenty minutes later were down the road and gone.

XXXXXXX

Two and a half months later, after the Ghost Quest – Carbonate episode aired, the Ghost Quest crew found out just who had been on the set with them. The FBI arrived for copies of the film and the word Winchester made the episode the most popular ever.