It's a Terrible Life Part 2
Dean drank his Master Cleanse.
"Holy crap, guys." Dean said.
"Yeah." Sam replied. "I could use a beer."
"Oh, sorry, man." Dean said. "I'm on the Cleanse. I got rid of all the carbs in the house."
Sam turned to Angela. "Hey. How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?"
Dean handed Sam and Angela water bottles.
"Crazy, right?" Angela replied. "And nice job kicking that door too."
"That was very Jet Li." Dean nodded. "What are you, like a black belt or something?"
"No." Sam shook his head. "I have no clue how I did that. It's like… we've done this before."
"What do you mean, before?" Dean asked. "Like Shirley MacLaine before?"
"No." Sam replied. "I, I just can't shake this feeling like I, like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."
"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way." Angela said.
"No. Well, look, it's more than that." Sam replied. "Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that… it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you guys? You ever feel that way?"
"I don't believe in destiny." Dean said. "I do believe in dealing with what's right in front of us, though."
"All right, so, what do we do now?" Sam asked.
"We do what Angie and I do best, Sammy." Dean replied. "Research."
"Okay." Sam nodded. "Did you just call me Sammy?"
"And did you call me Angie?"
"Did I?" Dean asked.
"I think you did. Yeah. Don't." Sam replied.
Angela shrugged. "I don't mind being called Angie."
Dean nodded and looked at Sam. "Sorry."
Dean sat at one laptop at a corner desk and Sam and Angela at another laptop at the table.
"Oh, jackpot." Dean said.
"What you got?" Sam asked.
"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters." Dean smiled.
Sam and Angela went over to see.
"These guys are genius. Check it out." Dean said.
"Instructional videos." Angela said.
Dean was looking at the Ghostfacers website. He pulled up a video. Ed and Harry of the Ghostfacers were wearing white lab coats.
"We know why you're watching." Ed said.
"You've got a problem." Harry continued.
"A ghost problem."
"A ghost related problem." Harry nodded. "A ghost, it's like a ghost adjacent pr-it's like a problem that's, and the ghost is—
"Whatever." Ed said. "You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it."
"Period."
"Watch and learn." Ed said.
"See, the first step in any supernatural fight," Harry started.
"Figure out what you're up against." They both said.
Dean looked over at Sam and Angela. On Sam's laptop was an article about the death of Sandover's founder; it had a picture.
"That's him. That's the ghost." Dean said.
"P.T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids." Angela said.
"Used to say he was the company, and his very blood pumped through the building." Sam added.
"Wow, okay." Dean replied. "So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it."
"Plus, turns out this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929."
"Yeah, but lots of guys jumped off lots of high rises that year." Angela shrugged.
"How many companies had 17 suicides?" Sam asked.
"Phew." Dean muttered. "Okay, so P.T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress."
"Well, I mean, the worst time we've seen since the Great Depression—Angela started.
"Is now." Dean finished. "Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it."
"So Sandover's helping the bottom line—Sam started.
"By zapping some model employees." Angela finished.
"Yeah." Sam nodded. "I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people."
"Perfect worker bees, exactly." Dean replied. "So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it."
"One more interesting fact." Angela said. "The building wasn't always that high. Used to be 14 floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, 1444? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office."
Dean, Sam and Angela returned to watching the Ghostfacers video.
"Once you've got that thing in your sights—Harry started.
"You kill it." Ed and Harry said.
"Using special ghost hunting weapons." Harry continued.
"First, salt." Ed said. "It's like acid to ghosts."
"Burny acid." Harry added.
"Not LSD."
"No. It's a bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron." Harry said.
"That's why the wrench worked." Sam commented.
"Pure power in your hand." Ed said.
"Dissipates ghosts instantly." Harry added.
"Next little trick." Ed continued. "We learned this from those useless douchebags—
"That we hate."
"The Winchesters and their friend, whom we don't hate all that much." Ed said.
"Gun." Harry said.
"Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt."
"Very effective." Harry said.
"Very effective."
"Winchesters still suck ass, though."
"Affirmative." Ed nodded. "Suckage major."
Dean packed three pokers in a duffel back that contained a salt shaker and unidentifiable items.
"Where do we even get a gun?" Angela asked.
"Gun store?"
"Isn't there like some kind of waiting period or something?" Dean asked.
"I think so." Angela nodded.
"Well, how in the hell—
"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "Seems pretty impossible, honestly."
"Right." Dean sighed.
"The aforementioned super annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing." Ed commented. "You have to burn the remains."
"Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes you might have to dig up the body." Harry said. "Sorry."
"It's illegal in some states."
"All states." Harry corrected.
"Possibly all starts."
"Sandover was cremated." Angela frowned.
"What? So what do we do now?" Dean asked.
"Now, if the deceased has been cremated—Harry started.
"Don't panic." Ed assured.
"Don't panic."
"Just gotta look for some other remains." Ed said.
"A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth."
"Milk teeth."
"Genetic material. You know what we're talking about."
"Go find it." Ed said.
"Fight well, young lions."
"Godspeed."
~/~\~
Sam, Dean and Angela entered the elevator.
"Set your cell phones to walkie-talkie in case we get separated." Angela suggested.
Angela had her phone out; Sam and Dean got theirs.
"How the hell are we gonna find some ancient speck of DNA in a skyscraper?" Sam asked.
"Well, that creepy storeroom used to be Sandover's office, right?" Dean pressed button 14.
~/~\~
Dean, Sam and Angela looked through the things stored in 1444. Dean and Angela went behind some shelves while Sam rifled through the desk easily visible from the door.
"What the hell are you doing here?" a guard asked.
Sam startled. Dean and Angela sucked out of sight.
"Nothing." Sam replied. "I just—
"Come with me."
The guard grabbed Sam's arm and shut the door behind them.
"Man, listen." Sam said. "Look. It's okay. I-I work here."
"Whatever. Tell it to the cops."
The guard took Sam down the corridor and into the elevator, which descended several floors. The current weather screen inside the elevator went to static, and both men's breath was briefly visible. The elevator screeched to a halt. The guard used his elevator key to open the inner doors, then pried open the outer doors; they were stuck between two floors.
"Well, come on." The guard said.
Something made an ominous sound.
"What?" Sam asked.
"Last time this happened, it took them two hours to get here."
"Let's just wait." Sam suggested.
The guard crawled out, nearly kicking Sam in the face.
~/~\~
Dean and Angela continued to search through drawers. Angela found a framed picture of a Sandover bridge.
~/~\~
The guard was out of the elevator and turned back for Sam.
"Seriously, I'll wait." Sam said.
The guard leaned back into the elevator. "Look, I don't have the rest of my life."
The elevator jerked downward abruptly, decapitating the guard. Sam's face and shirt were covered in blood spray.
"Hey. You okay?" Dean asked over the phone.
Sam slowly reached for the phone. "Call you back."
~/~\~
Sam walked between the cubicles, talking into his phone. He was cleaning the blood off his face with a towel.
"Dean, Angie, you there?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, listen, I think we got it." Angela replied. "Meet us on 22."
"Okay, yeah." Sam replied. "Just, uh, take the stairs."
~/~\~
Dean and Angela were looking at the Sandover history display when Sam came in.
"Whoa." Angela breathed. "T-That's a lot of blood."
"Yeah, I know." Sam replied.
"Right. So, uh, in there." Dean pointed to a glass case containing a pair of gloves.
"P.T. Sandover's gloves." Sam said.
"Yeah, how much you wanna bet there's a little smidge of DNA in there?" Dean asked. "You know, like a fingernail clipping or a hair or two? Something."
"So you ready?" Sam asked.
"I have no idea." Dean said.
"No clue."
"Me neither." Sam agreed.
Sam, Dean and Angela all took a poker and Sam took a container of salt.
"Go for it." Sam said.
"Right." Dean nodded.
Dean smashed the glass. Sam and Angela's breath was briefly visible. Sandover appeared behind Dean and flung him into the wall, then Sam and Angela. His hand sparked as he approached Sam, who grabbed the salt and flung some through him. Sandover dissipated. Dean and Angela got up.
"Oh. Nice." Angela said.
Sandover appeared behind Angela.
"Angie." Sam said.
Sam threw Angela a poker. Angela turned and swung it threw Sandover, who dissipated again.
"Nice catch." Sam smiled.
"Thanks." Angela returned the smile.
Sam got up and went over to pick up the other two pokers and threw one to Dean. Sandover appeared between Sam, Dean and Angela, who simultaneously hit him with pokers; he dissipated. He appeared behind Dean, who turned around to get him, then behind Sam, who did the same, then between them, and threw first Sam, then Dean and Angela into opposite walls. His hands sparked as he reached for Dean and Angela. Sam saw the gloves and grabbed them and his lighter. The gloves caught fire and so did Sandover, who burned into nothing. Sam dropped the burning gloves.
"That was amazing." Sam said.
"Right? Right?" Dean replied.
Dean pulled a first aid kit out of his desk.
"I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life." Dean said.
"Me neither." Sam and Angela said.
"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?"
"We should keep doing this." Sam suggested.
"I know." Dean said.
Dean looked through the kit and came out with three gauze pads. He gave one to Sam and Angela.
"I mean it." Sam replied. "There gotta be other ghosts out there we could help a lot of people."
"Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers." Angela smiled.
"No, really. I mean, for real."
"What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?" Dean asked.
"Exactly." Sam nodded.
"How would we live?" Angela asked.
"Uh…" Sam started.
"You gotta be kidding me." Dean said. "How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel room every night?"
"That's all just details." Sam shrugged.
"Details are everything." Angela said.
Dean nodded. "You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance."
"All right. Um. Confession." Sam said.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Remember those dreams I told you guys about with the ghosts?"
"Yeah?" Angela raised a brow.
"I was fighting them."
"Okay." Dean nodded.
"With you two. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends." Sam replied. "More like brothers, really." Sam looked at Dean. He looked at Angela. "And you and I…" he started, swallowing thickly. "I mean, what if that's who we really are? I mean, you saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling people's brains. What if it scrambled ours?"
"That's insane." Angela replied.
"Is it? Think about it for just one second. What if we think this is our life, but it's not?"
"Hey, man, the ghost is dead and we're still standing." Dean replied. "I mean, I'm sorry, but—
"Look, all I know is this isn't who we're supposed to be."
"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo."
"I'm Angela Simmons." Angela said. "I went to University of Maryland. My mother's name is Lillian Ann, my father's is Robert, and my boyfriend's is Tyler."
"When was the last time you talked to them? To any of them?" Sam asked.
"Okay, you're upset." Dean said. "You're upset, you're confused—
"Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancée, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital."
"Okay. What are you saying?" Angela asked. "That our families aren't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on."
"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut." Sam said. "And I know, I know that deep down, you two gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag and you're not just some secretary. This isn't you. I know you guys."
"Know us?" Angela raised a brow.
"You don't know us, pal." Dean said. "You should go."
Sam left.
~/~\~
A printer whirred and spit out paper. A fax machine whirred and sucked in paper. An automatic pencil sharpener whirred. Sam was in his cubicle filling out a form on a clipboard. The phone rang. Sam stared at it. He took off his headset, picked up the poker he brought with him, got up, and beat the phone to death. Everyone stared.
"I quit." Sam said.
~/~\~
Dean was typing at his computer. Angela knocked on the door.
"Mr. Smith?" she asked.
"Yes, Angela?" he asked, not looking up from his computer.
"Mr. Adler is here to see you." She said.
"Got a minute?" Adler asked.
"Sure, of course." Dean nodded, looking up.
Adler looked at Angela. "You can come in, too." He shut the door after Angela came in. "How are you two feeling?"
"Uh, great." Dean shrugged.
"I'm feeling just peachy." Angela smiled.
"You two look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather."
"Yeah." Dean replied.
"Ah, don't be modest." Adler smiled. "I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing."
Adler sat down in front of Dean's desk, Angela followed suit.
"That's why it's important to me that you're happy." Adler said.
Adler pulled out a pen, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote down a five digit number.
"How's that for a bonus?"
Dean looked at the paper. "That's very generous."
"Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."
"Wow. Are you sure?" Dean asked.
"Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go getter. Carving your own way."
"Well, thanks. I try." Dean replied.
"I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you."
Dean took off his headset. "Uh, well, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um… but…" Dean passed the paper back. "I am giving my notice."
Angela looked at Dean and then at Adler. "U-uh, me, me too, sir."
"This is a joke." Adler frowned. "You're kidding me, right?"
"No." Dean replied. "Recently, uh, very recently Angela and I realized we have some other work we have to do. It's, uh, very important to us."
"Other work? Another company?"
"No, it, it's hard to explain." Angela murmured. "Um. We… we're just trying to find ourselves. And this just isn't us…"
Adler grinned.
"What?" Dean asked.
"Dean and Angela." Adler sighed. "Finally."
Adler stood up and pressed to fingers to Dean and Angela's forehead. Dean and Angela looked around the office then at their clothes.
"What the hell?" Angela and dean asked.
"Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry."
Angela pulled her hair out of her bun. "God, this dress is awful. And these heels, they are killing me."
Adler laughed. "Welcome back."
Dean and Angela stood.
"Wait. Did we, did we just get touched by, you're an angel, aren't you?" Dean asked.
"I'm Zachariah."
"Oh, great." Angela said. "That's all we need is another one of you guys."
"I'm hardly another on, Angela. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest popping down here into one of these smelly things."
Zachariah indicated his body.
"But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."
"We are not your ducks." Dean said.
"Starting with your attitudes."
"Oh, so, what?" Angela asked. "This was all some sort of lesson? Is that what you're telling us? Wow. Very creative."
"You should see my decoupage."
"Gross. No thank you." Dean said. "So, what? We're just hallucinating all this? Is that it?"
"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."
"Just to shake things up?" Angela asked. "Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?"
"To prove you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're hunters. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell and back to the Winchesters, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You'll find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You two will stop it."
"Stop what?" Dean asked. "The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."
"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You can't do it. Right?"
"Angel or not, I will stab you in your face." Angela said.
"All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving anything more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things."
Dean and Angela turned away.
"Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sake, quit whining about it. Look around. There are plenty of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourselves another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"
A/N: Hey guys, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I've gotten so behind on my writing, so I'm gonna try and get some done tomorrow while I'm waiting in the dentist office. :)
Don't forget review, review, review! Love y'all!
~Emily