The A**holes From Texas

Weeks had passed since the incident with Lilith and you were no closer to finding Bela, or saving Dean for that matter. The air inside the impala was tense, to put it mildly, as the lingering feeling of urgency plagued everyone. Everyone except Dean that is… "Up all night with Freddie King. I got to tell you, poker's his thing. Booze and ladies keep me right. As long as we can make it to the show tonight."

Sam had half his torso out the window with a flashlight, pretending to scope out the premises, but you knew he was really striving to get away from the off key musical stylings of his brother rocking out to Grand Funk Railroad. Even your own tolerance was waning, as you were fighting an urge to yell at the older Winchester to shut it off. Sadly, you knew yelling at Dean wouldn't improve your already sour mood.

Dean had promised this latest case would be a walk in the park, a fun vacation even. The frustrating part was the fact that you were even working a case when a much more important deadline was only two months out. Dean's persistence to veer off course spelled out two scenarios for you: either he was in complete denial of the whole ordeal, or (worse) he had accepted his fate and no longer cared to save himself. Regardless, the lack of sleep, Dean's attitude, and most of all his singing were sawing at your last nerve and giving you a major headache. Just work the case and you can rest after.

After your initial sweep of the Morton House, you noted that law enforcement abandoned their post around 10pm. Your team camped just out of sight until then, when, unexpectedly, several vans slipped in first, infringing on your case. You managed to convince the boys to lay low and do some recon, making sure it wasn't just other hunters also trying their hand at the Morton house. A moment later, the nerds hauling half-assed homemade equipment out of the trunk dismissed your theory. You sighed as the three of you waited a few hours, one of you occasionally doing a perimeter check to see if the civvies would leave on their own. You checked your watch to see that midnight was approaching and there was no sign of exiting from the Breakfast Club.

"Freeze! Police officers! Don't move!" Dean yelled after kicking in the front door. You and Sam followed his lead, making sure to hold your guns and flashlights in a typical law enforcement manor. The three unsubs inside looked to be early twenties, and quite easy to startle. "Alright, let's see some ID. Hand them over, now." You commanded, really selling the authoritarian persona. One of the boys started to stutter as his forehead glazed with sweat. "What—are we under—under arrest?"

"We are unarmed! Oh, god. Oh, God." The other male (probably mid to late twenties) called from behind him. The first trespasser passed Dean his license. "You want to explain that weirdo outfit, Mr. Corbett?"

"Uh…"—"Whoa…I know you." Interrupted the third male (definitely late twenties).

"Yeah, sure you do. Give me some identification. C'mon."

"Yeah, ho—whoa, hold on a second."

"Drop the gimmick sir, you're not in trouble, you just need to g—"

" Yeah, I know the both of you guys. Yeah. You, though, you're new. Finally got a lady in the group, eh guys?" The last part was emphasized with raised eyebrows, making you turn towards the brothers demanding, "What the hell is going on?" Sam looked the man up and down before recognition dawned on him. "Holy Sh**."

"What?" you and Dean questioned together. "Uh, west Texas—the—the—the Tulpa we had to take out, those two goofballs that almost got us killed…The Hellhounds or something?" None of this information was ringing a bell for you, but Dean cocked his head as he pointed his flashlight in the perp's face. "F*** me." What the hell is going on here…. "Yeah, we're not the Hellhounds anymore, okay? It didn't test that well."

"Ed, what's going on?" Late twenties' name is Ed. Early twenties is Corbett. Noted. "They're not cops buddy—no, not at all."

"Ed, Ed, you had a partner, too, didn't you—A different guy? Is he around here somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, he's running around, chasing ghosts." The situation was getting stupid and you were getting annoyed quickly. Dean answered, "Okay, well, listen, you and Rambo need to get your girlfriends and get out of here."

"Listen here, chisel chest, okay? We were here first. We've already set up base camp. We beat you. So you take your girlfriend and get out of here." You took a menacing step toward Ed and he unconsciously retreated back into himself, confirming the hidden submissive personality that you had suspected. I'm no one's girlfriend, and it's honestly getting real old being mistaken for Dean's. You turned back to the brothers and Dean shrugged, "They were here first." You caught his smirk… and also the fact that he didn't rectify the 'girlfriend' comment either. You narrowed your eyes at him and he nodded, grabbing the camera in Ed's hand and pinning the shorter man against the wall. "Ed?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's your partner?"

"I'll take you to him." He managed to squeak out. Dean dropped him and gestured for him to lead the way. The door to the left revealed what 'base camp' seemed to consist of; a fold up table and chairs with sub par homemade equipment set up erratically. "What are you doing at the Morton House anyway? On a leap year—what are you thinking?" Dean asked. "We're here to spend the night, okay? It's for our TV show."

"What? Great. Perfect." Sam added, annoyed.

"Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before." Corbett announced proudly. You turned to him. "Wrong."

"Well, we've never heard of anyone." Ed responded. "Well that's because anyone that did never lived to talk about it, Edward." You retorted.

"It's just Ed. And your name?" He winked. You grimaced and Sam laid down his pack before answering for you. "It's Y/N. But look—missing-persons reports going back almost a half century. Uh…John Graham stayed on a dare—gone. Julie Wilkerson—gone. There are tons more. All of them came to just stay the night through, always on a leap year. The only body ever found was the last owner, Freeman Daggett." Ed fingered through all the posters and police reports, fear slowly swelling in his face. "These look legit."

"They are legit. Look, Ed, we ain't got much time here, buddy. Starting at midnight, your friends are going to die-"

"Oh my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god!" The yelling echoed from the staircase, causing the three actual professionals in the room to raise their guns at the offending screamers. "Guys! Guys! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! We got one! Corbett! Corbett, we saw one! It was a full apparition! It was like a class four. It was a spectral illumination! It…" Three more 'investigators' made their way into the room, all excited about witnessing a spirit. Two males, early thirties, and one female, mid to late twenties. Assuming lead male is said 'partner' of Ed. There was a silence in the room as the new members sized up the three of you. "Hey, aren't those the a**holes from Texas?"