New Hell Hound Post

Dean was still staring down at his drawing. I had resorted to resting my chin in the palm of my had and tapping a pencil against the table. "What the hell is this symbol?" Dean suddenly exploded. "It's bugging the hell outta me." Him and me both with his complaining over it the last few days. "I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"Which is why it attacked me." I sighed, looking up as I was thinking back. "But it attacked you two as well."

"Right." Dean said. "Well I mean that explains why he went after you two but why me?"

"Hilarious." Sam said sarcastically.

I grinned finding some humor in this conversation. "Maybe you're just more chick than you thought." Dean threw one of the hotel pillows at my head.

"The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?" Sam asked. Dean and I both nodded. "What's up with that? And the axe too." Damn, I hated that thing from the moment I saw it about to come down on my head. "I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right." But this one seemed to be the opposite of straight. "Following the same patterns over and over?"

"But this mook keeps changing." Dean pulled his legs onto the bed with him.

I rubbed my forehead tiredly. "This whole case is giving me a headache."

"Wait a minute." Sam suddenly said, straightening up as he stared at his computer screen. "Someone added a new post to the hell house site. Listen to this." I straightened up. Hopefully this would sign some kind of light on this freak of a ghost. "They say Mordechai Murdock was really a satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for all eternity."

"I don't get it." I dropped my head. "The story changed, so does that mean the ghost changed to match it? Or did someone go in there, escape the changed ghost and then wrote it on the website.

Dean startled everybody when he suddenly jumped off the bed, staring at the picture he drew with realization. I guess he finally figured out where he'd seen it. And so Dean said, "I think I might have just figured out where it all started."

"Great, let's go." I jumped up, hurrying outside. I nearly bumped into someone standing outside the door. "I'll be a minute guys." I called quickly, slamming the door shut in they're faces. I grabbed Derek's hand and dragged him around the corner.

"Ugh, it's always fun being man handled by you." Derek said, rubbing his hand when I let go. Reminding me of the multiple times I shoved him or told him to do something.

"Derek, you knew exactly where I was." I said, remembering him asking where I was a few days ago by text. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming."

Derek shrugged sheepishly. "Every other meeting was a surprise. Figured I'd surprise you here as well."

Near the car, "Chris!" Dean was shouting, looking around. "Hurry you ass up before we leave you here."

"Work?" Derek guessed. He didn't mind being dragged from her family before they could see him. After all, he'd seen how big her brothers were.

"Yeah, so I better go before he throws another fit. See ya later." I didn't think before I rose up on the toes of my feet, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I still have to find itching powder for my next prank."

Derek grinned, a hand on his face with a forming love struck look on his face.

At the music store, we found Craig sitting behind the counter looking all depressed. "Hey Craig?" Dean called out as we entered the store. "Remember us?"

Craig looked up. "Look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, ok?"

"No problem, that's not why we're here." I lied, waving a dismissive hand.

"We're just here to buy an album." Dean said, starting to flip through the selection he had the first time he was in this store. He grabbed an album and showed it to us. It was the same symbol in blue that was painted on that wall in red at the hell house. Dean talked to us loudly for Craig to here as we now approached the counter. "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn't mean anything." He showed the album cover to Craig, sliding it across the counter. "It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult. Tell me Craig, you into BOC or just scaring the hell outta people."

I leaned my elbow on to the counter. "Do us all a favor so we can get out of your hair. Tell us the truth around that house."

Craig sighed, not looking pleased. "My cousin Dana was on break from TCU." I remembered that school. I was twelve when I TP'd they're parking lot and front trees with a group of my friends. They never did find out it was us. "We were bored so I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted." And woke up whatever spirit was in that house. "So we painted symbols on the walls, some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks." Then they learned Murdock lived there and made up a story about it. "So they told people who told people. And these these two guys put it on they're stupid website." Ed and Harry no doubt. "Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I...I thought it was funny at first but, not that girl's dead!" It was clear he was distraught about it. "It was just a joke, none of it was real! We made the whole thing up, I swear!"

As we were leaving, Dean asked Sam and I, "If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

Several hours later, Sam was in the shower and Dean went on a supply one while I was standing at the front door. "I can't believe you found me some!" I squealed, grabbing the itching powder from Derek.

"Well you did say you needed it to win your prank war." Derek said pleased, he had gotten her to smile. They stopped at the familiar roar of the impala pulling up.

"Oh, I better hurry before Dean gets here. And remember, he does keep a shotgun so you better run to." I grabbed a shoulder and gave him a peck on the lips and hurrying inside. It was only as I was pouring itching power over the pants Dean was planning to wear after his shower when he got back did I realize what I had done. My cheeks turned red and my heart started thumping, my lips felt warm. I hadn't felt like this since I had my first kiss on a dare when I was eleven.

Meanwhile, Derek groaned, falling face first into his truck where he'd been staying the night since he'd run his money a little short by being the itching powder. But damn, it was worth it. A blinding smile plus a kiss, he was on cloud nine.

In the motel, I just closed the drawer and spun around, hiding the itching powder behind my back as Dean walked in. He looked at me with a bag in one hand. "What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"...Nothing." I said cheerfully, jumping onto the bed. Dean shook his head as he heard Sam in the shower, chalking up my behavior as being female.

"Hey, I think I might have a theory about what's going on." Sam called from the shower. Apparently we had the same idea because Dean was now pouring his own itching powder into Sam's underwear laid out on the bed. Sam kept talking unaware. "What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?"

"Tulpa?" Dean called.

"What's a Tulpa?" I asked, pointing out a spot in the underwear he'd missed. Dean nodded and poured extra on top of it. Dean spun around hiding the itching powder just as I had earlier when Sam came out dripping wet in a towel.

"Dude, bring your clothes with you." I wrinkled my nose. I hurried into the bathroom to have my own shower. I was barely in there for ten minutes before I was screaming because of Dean.

At the diner, "I hate you." I said for not for the tenth time this past hour. I had a revolting hat I snatched from one of the guys bag to hide the hair I tied into a bun and stuffed every strand under it. The hat was bulging a little. My usual lightly waved blonde locks were now stringy puke green, coloring having been placed in my shampoo.

"I know you do sweetheart." Dean grinned, nursing his coffee. He shifted a little awkward in his pants. I smirked around my straw, serves him right. Sam grimaced and did the same as Dean who smirked, even as he felt uncomfortable, clearly not making the connection that he had also been pranked. "Dude, what's your problem?" Dean asked, Sam moving around in his seat more than Dean was.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Sam said quickly, showing up the research he got together. "Ok, so there was this incident in Tibet 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. The meditated on it so hard that this brought the thing to life outta thin air."

"And that means..." I trailed off.

"That was twenty monks." Sam scoffed. "Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do." I whistled, imagining the chaos. "I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online." Easy to access to anybody would had an Internet connection and computer. "Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard.

"Now wait a second." Dean held up a hand. "Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

Sam clearly looked uncomfortable as he answered with a quick, "Maybe."

I shook my head, "This job gets weirder and weirder everyday."

"Now hold on." Dean protested. "People believe in Santa Claus, how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas." I had a theory about that one.

"Because you're a bad person." Sam answered easily. And that was exactly what I thought. Sam turned his computer around to show up a symbol from the hell house. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil." Looked more like gibberish to me. "On the wall of the house." Of course it had been. "Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook." Most of that stuff was crap but some were very real. "I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was." Real geniuses, they were, I thought sarcastically. "Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass." Now that was just weird. "So people are on the HellHounds website staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai, I don't know but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life."

Dean leaned closer to the screen. "It would explain why he keeps changing." He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"So people say he slits his wrists and he did? Or becomes an ax waving murderer?"

Sam grimaced and pulled at his pants again. "Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so himself changes. Like a game of telephone." I always hated that game and would purposely mess up the sentence to the most oddest thing I could think of. "That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Yeah, because he's not a traditions spirit." Both boys stopped to fidget and I smirked. "So why don't we just uh.." He shifted again. "Get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?"

Easier said than done.