AN: Why hello, welcome back! Like I said in the outtakes, my migraines came back with a vengeance and that time around, they brought auras, which I had never experienced before and terrified the fuck out of me, it was a terrible time. Thankfully they're gone and I also no longer have the job that was so stressful it was causing them. We are tantalizingly close to finish line, and wouldn't we all like to be done?

I did a bit of minor editing to the last chapter in anticipation of posting this chapter. Basically I put back in some of the scenes that got taken out in put in the outtakes. I also included an explanation for that decision in my author's note for that chapter!

Also, for the anon who left the angry review on chapter 14 about Klaus not being the bad guy: I really can't tell if you're serious or not but tbh you did make me laugh so thanks for that! If you're serious, well, idk what to tell you, man, I never said he was the bad guy.

Now, I believe I promised that this would be the start of Dean and Elena's heavy flirting era, didn't I? So, without further ado, enjoy!

Addendum

(n.)

A thing to be added; an addition.

Chapter Nineteen

Hell House

aka

I'll Build the Houses if You Dig the Graves

Richardson, Texas: June 2018

Dean glances at Elena in the rearview mirror, sprawled across the backseat far too much like a pin-up for his comfort, a battered copy of The Turn of the Screw propped up against one tan leg. Briefly, she glances up from her book to meet his eye, giving him a teasing smile and a careful nip at her lower lip before turning back to her book.

He grins, shaking his head at her, well aware that he's the one who started this game, and completely sure that he's going to see it through to the end. He glances over at Sam, dead asleep in the front seat with his mouth wide open. But in meantime, there's still plenty of other kinds of fun to be had. He reaches back, finding the pocket at the back of the seat; it only takes a moment of blind groping to find what he's looking for.

Elena glances over just as he's slipped the plastic spoon into Sam's mouth. She rolls her eyes fondly, turning back to the distressed governess and the mischievous ghosts of Bly Manor.

After taking a picture of Sam, Dean stows his phone away and turns the volume up on the radio, full blast, startling Sam awake.

Sam spits out the spoon, disoriented. "Ha, ha, very funny," he says dryly as he sits up, swiping at his face discreetly and throwing an unamused glare at his brother.

He reaches over to turn the music down.

Dean is still laughing as he speaks, "Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own." He chuckles again.

Sam glances back at Elena, who is still reading, but there is a faint smile on her face that Sam knows isn't inspired by the Victorian ghost story she's reading.

He huffs. "Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean," he says sternly.

"Are you sure about that?" Elena asks dryly from the backseat.

Dean grabs the spoon from the seat where Sam discarded it, tossing it back at her in retaliation, further proving her point. She bats it away, avoiding the part that was in Sam's mouth, making a displeased face at Dean who snickers gleefully.

Sam ignores both of them to continue. "We're not going to start that crap up again."

Dean glances over at him, innocent as the Boy Scout he never was. "Start what up?"

Sam glares over at him, not fooled at all. "That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates."

Dean grins. "Aw, what's the matter Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"

Sam winces at the memory.

"Nair?" Elena asks, her book pressed to her chest now.

Sam nods in humiliated confirmation.

"That's awfully un-inspired, don't you think, Dean?"

"Well, we can't all be beautiful, evil geniuses, Elena," Dean replies.

Sam narrows his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Dean looks over at him. "It means that you're gonna wanna keep her out of this, for everyone's sake."

Sam looks back at Elena who gives him her best Bambi eyes, which are, of course, devastating.

"He tried to start a prank war with you, didn't he?" Sam realizes.

Elena nods. "Trust me, he never tried again."

Sam considers this. "Huh."

Dean shakes his head vehemently from the driver's seat. "Oh no, I know what you're thinking, Sammy, don't even go there." He points his thumb back at Elena. "She knows no mercy and she holds no allegiances. You might think you're figuring out some way to get me off your back, but she'll destroy you too and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Sam stares at his brother. "What in the hell did you do to him, Elena?"

"Nothing he didn't deserve," she replies.

Dean glances back at Elena warily. "Have I said I'm sorry recently?"

She just smiles at him.

"Right, well, I'm still really sorry, and I promise it'll never happen again."

She nods, satisfaction evident in her gaze. "I know." She goes back to her book.

Dean looks over at Sam, narrowing his eyes to remind him that while Elena might be off limits, the game is still on between the two of them.

Sam shakes his head. "All right, just remember you started it."

Dean chuckles. "Bring it on, baldy."

Sam rolls his eyes. He glances out the window. "Where are we anyway?"

Dean replies. "A few hours outside of Richardson." He glances over at him. "Gimme the lowdown again?"

Sam nods. "All right, about a month or two ago this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house-"

Dean cuts him off. "Haunted by what?"

Sam gives him an annoyed look but answers. "Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters."

Elena lets out a small hum of displeasure.

"Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar," Sam finishes.

"Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean asks.

"Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone." Sam looks at Dean, waiting for an interjection before continuing. "So, cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains."

Dean considers this. "Maybe the cops are right."

"Maybe," Sam allows. "But I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere."

"Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean asks.

Sam hesitates before responding, already knowing Dean's response won't be favorable. "Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, umm, last night, I surfed some local…paranormal websites. And I found one."

Dean rolls his eyes, immediately skeptical. "And what's it called?"

Sam winces, letting out a light chuckle before reluctantly answering, "HellHoundsLair dot com."

Dean snorts. "Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement," he says sarcastically.

Sam laughs. "Yeah, probably."

"Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter," Dean says.

Elena sits up at last, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Persqueeter?" she asks, carefully enunciating the word.

Dean freezes. "I mean, ass?" he suggests tentatively.

Sam frowns, not entirely sure what he's missing, but unwilling to ask and face Elena's wrath.

Elena leans forward, book dangling from one finger, chin propped on the back of their seat. "Uh-huh, sure," she says, still watching Dean through narrowed eyes.

Sam rolls his eyes, cutting in before Elena can properly give Dean hell. "Look. We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is, so meantime we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out."

He presents his case for this case as reasonably as he can, despite still being pissed that Dean had told their father to go – pissed that Elena had been offered the opportunity to go with him and had declined.

"All right," Dean relents.

Sam nods. "Good."

Elena doesn't move from her place, instead reaching her free hand out to run her fingers through Dean's hair, nails trailing tantalizingly down the back of his neck until he's covered in goosebumps and shivering.

He gives her a warning look, but she just smiles in reply and continues her ministrations.

Sam ignores their flirting – which as of late has become borderline uncomfortable to witness – and taps the cover of The Turn of the Screw.

"How's the book?" Sam asks.

"The governess doesn't know if she's crazy or if the manor is haunted, what's not to like?" is her response.

Sam considers this. "Huh, maybe I'll read it next."

She nods. "Sure, I'll pass it on when I'm done."

"I really enjoyed Olalla," Sam continues. "I can't believe I never knew about it even though Robert Louis Stevenson wrote it. I love Treasure Island."

She shrugs. "It's not as well-known as some of his other works, but it's definitely my favorite."

Sam nods in agreement. "It was sad, but I liked it."

Dean groans loudly and dramatically. "God, it's like Revenge of the Nerds all over again," he complains.

Elena rolls her eyes. "Dean, nobody's been assaulted."

Sam chimes in. "Yeah man, I don't see any Darth Vader masks."

"So where do we find these kids?" Dean asks, clearly desperate to distract them from their literary discussion.

Elena and Sam exchange an amused look, not at all fooled, but Sam answers his question anyway.

"Same place you always find kids in a town like this."

At the local eatery, the teenagers tell them their conflicting versions of the story. One kid swearing the walls were black, the next saying it was red, the girl insisting it was blood. The only thing they seem to agree on is that there was a girl hanging in the basement. Even then, they can't even agree on the color of her hair.

Elena leans forward in her seat. All three of the teens across the table stare at her with the kind of awe only she seems to inspire. The boys stare with single-minded lust and the girl with both envy and admiration.

Her hair spills over her shoulder and down her back, revealing the compelling line of her throat. One of the boys stares fixed at the curve of her bare shoulder, her elbows leaned on the table in front of her.

She glances back over her shoulder, giving Dean a teasing smile. He smiles back at her, barely aware of the teens' attention, content in knowing that every beautiful little gesture that make their heads spin is just for him.

"And how'd you find out about this place, anyway?" Sam is asking when Dean tunes back into reality.

The three teens answer together, for once in total agreement.

"Craig."

"Can I help you with anything?" the music store clerk asks as the three of them file into the store.

Sam replies. "Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?"

He nods. "I am."

"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and this is our photographer, Elena."

Elena smiles at Craig who returns it with interest.

Craig looks eager. "No way. Yeah, I'm writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

Elena narrows her eyes.

"Well, good for you, Morrison," Dean replies.

Elena nudges him, he gives her a playful look.

Sam jumps in, trying his best to ignore them. "We're doing an article on local hauntings, and rumor has it you might know about one."

Craig doesn't waste anytime responding. "You mean the Hell House?"

"That's the one," Dean says with a nod.

Craig looks reluctant to elaborate. "I didn't think there was anything to the story."

Elena smiles at him again, speaking, "It's like an anthology, local ghost stories from different parts of Texas collected and researched by reporters."

"Like Haunted America?" Craig asks with interest.

She nods. "Exactly."

"Why don't you tell us the story," Sam says.

Craig takes a deep breath before beginning. "Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters." He wanders back over to the front counter, Sam following him as he narrates. "It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

Dean puts down the record he's been looking at and follows, Elena at his back.

"How?" Sam asks.

Craig takes another deep breath before continuing. "Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So, he attacked them." He pauses. "They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself." Another deep breath. "Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

Craig glances at Elena reflexively, who only looks back at him with placid curiosity.

"Where'd you hear all this?" Dean asks.

"My cousin Dana told me," he replies. "I don't know where she heard it from," he continues, shaking his head, then adds. "Ya gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do," Sam prompts.

Craig pauses for a long time before responding. "I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I-I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, ok? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?" Craig looks between them earnestly.

"Thanks," Dean says as they turn to leave.

Outside the shop, Elena appears deep in thought.

"What are you thinking, Gilbert?" Dean asks.

She chews on her lower lip for a moment before responding. "I'm wondering what kind of stories Craig likes to tell."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You think he's making it up?"

She shrugs. "I think he was very quick to reference Haunted America but that could just mean that he likes ghost stories." Then she reminds them, "Plus his friends seemed pretty convinced, even if none of them could agree on the story." She looks at Sam. "Plenty of people like ghost stories and aren't liars. I guess Craig and his friends deserve the benefit of the doubt, for now."

As they walk up the dirt road to the Murdock house, there is no denying it's creep factor. The gloomy weather and clouds threatening a downpour don't help.

"Can't say I blame the kid," Sam says, referring to Craig's declaration that he never wants to return to the house, as he eyes their surroundings that look like something out of a horror movie set.

Sam and Elena share a look, Elena miming taking a shot, Sam nodding his agreement.

Dean agrees. "Yeah, so much for curb appeal."

As they approach the house, they split up to examine the exterior.

When Sam approaches Dean is tapping on the screen of his EMF reader. "You got something?"

Dean replies. "Ye-ah. The EMFs no good."

Sam frowns. "Why?" he asks.

Dean points his chin at the old power line behind the house. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Sam nods. "Yeah, that'd do it."

Elena returns from the other side of the house, shaking her head to indicate that there is nothing of interest on that side, exactly as Sam had concluded on the other side.

Dean pockets the EMF reader. "Yeah. Come on, let's go."

As they examine the trashed room, the walls covered in spray paint, Dean can't resist joking, "Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time."

Sam can't resist showing off as he photographs the symbols to examine more closely later. "And after his time too. The reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s."

Elena shakes her head. "The inverted cross wasn't associated with Satanists until the '60s, too, Sam."

Sam blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Oooh, it's a Nerd-Off!" Dean looks delighted. "My money's on Elena."

Elena gives him a look but obliges in giving a full explanation. "It was the cross of St. Peter first. It was in the 19th Century that the inverted cross was first associated with anti-Christian culture, by Eugene Vintras in France to be exact. He was a Gnostic revivalist, basically an end-of-days cult preacher before it became the stuff of street corners. But it wasn't until the '60s that it was adopted by Satanists, after it was used on the cover of a Black Sabbath album," she shrugs at the end of her explanation like it's no big deal.

Dean is the one who responds. "Where the hell did you even learn that?" he asks, knowing he nor his father had taught her that.

"Well, Dean, since you asked so nicely, I wrote a paper on it," she says, her deadpan speaking for itself.

Sam is gracious about his defeat, impressed even. "I stand corrected."

"You just got your ass handed to you, Nerd-Boy," Dean says with a grin.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Shut up, man."

Dean, however, is looking at Elena with genuine concern. "Actually, should you even be in here?"

She gives him a quizzical look, but Sam understands.

"Mordechai does like to murder girls, according to legend. Maybe you should wait outside."

Dean nods in agreement. "Yeah, I prefer you alive and sassing me into the next century."

Elena rolls her eyes but starts heading for the door. "Yeah, I guess I like my neck."

After her departure, they go back to examining the markings on the wall.

"Hey what about this one, you seen this one before?" Dean asks, pointing to one in particular.

Sam comes over to look at it. It's a cross with a hook at the bottom and a dot at its center. "No." He takes a picture of it.

Dean frowns, eyes narrowed in concentration. "I have. Somewhere."

Sam reaches out to touch it, surprised at what he finds. "It's paint. Seems pretty fresh, too."

Dean shakes his head. "I don't know, Sam. Elena might be right about Craig liking ghost stories. There's not much here but some shitty tagging and dust."

Sam nods. "Yeah, maybe. Elena was in here for at least five minutes and nothing tried to attack her."

Dean nods, but before he can respond they hear a clattering sound from another room. Tensed, they make their way through to the next room, positioning themselves on either side of the closed door. Dean reaches for the door, the two of them bursting through only to be blinded by flashlights shined directly into their eyes.

Two men stand before them, one holding a camera and both looking distinctly disappointed.

"Ugh, cut," The one wearing a fishing vest says as the bearded one lowers his camera. "It's just a coupla humans." His disdain is evident.

"What are you guys doing here?" asks Mr. Fishing Vest snidely.

"What they hell are you doing here?" Dean retorts.

The bearded one gives a fake laugh, opening his arms wide. "We belong here, we're professionals?"

Dean looks at them skeptically. "Professional what?" he asks.

"Paranormal Investigators," the bearded one says with withering authority. He whips out a business card to show them. "There you go, take a look at that, boys."

Dean takes it, scanning the small print. "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," he says flatly.

He looks between the two smugly grinning guys in front of him as Sam reads the card.

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spengler? Hellhoundslair dot com. You guys run that website," Sam says. He sounds like he's holding in his laughter with the best of himself.

"Yeah," Ed says smugly.

Dean decides to go along with them. "Oh yeah, yeah, we're huge fans. "

The two of them puff up with pride as Sam hides his snort of laughter behind a dusty cough.

The two men, puffed up as peacocks, look at them disdainfully. "And ahh, we know who you guys are too," Ed says.

Sam and Dean exchange a look.

"Oh yeah?" Sam says vaguely.

Harry sneers disdainfully. "Amateurs. Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

Before Ed can continue for him all the way up there from their high horse, someone interrupts them.

"Am I cheap thrill?" Elena asks from the doorway.

They all turn to look at her. She's got her arms crossed, one shoulder leaned against doorway, legs crossed just so – so Harry and Ed can't see the distinct scar on the inside of her thigh – looking like an absolute daydream even in the dark, gloomy house. She, as always, has her eyes on Dean, a mischievous grin blooming across her face.

Dean responds playfully. "You certainly are somethin'." He comes over to her, reaching out to grip her jutted hip, squeezing it affectionately.

She hums. "Starting sweet and work your way up to dirty? I like it."

Ed clears his throat, sneering. "Oh, we get it, trying to impress a girl." His voice goes incredibly high-pitched at the end, giving away exactly how impressed he is by said girl. Harry is still gaping like a fish.

Elena shakes her head, swishing her ponytail with expert command, then pushes off the door to rise on to her tiptoes, uncrossing her arms to wrap around Dean's neck. "You don't need to impress me," she tells Dean.

Her legs unwound, from Sam's position adjacent to his brother and Elena, he can see the manticore scar, an impressive slash of white, but from where Harry and Ed are standing, they see nothing but a stunning brunette wrapping herself around the guy they had felt so superior to only moments before.

Now that she's no longer leaning against the door with it, Dean wraps his other hand around Elena's other hip, looking very much like he's done this a hundred times.

"I'll keep that in mind," Dean says in a low voice full to the brim with affection and promise.

As much as Sam knows that Elena is just fucking with the pretentious men in front of them and Dean has never resisted fucking with someone once in his life; he also knows that the heat radiating between the two of them is very real and getting closer to fatal combustion every day. It's real, and it's hot enough that Sam can feel his own face turning red from discomfort. A large part of him wants to usher the two imbeciles in front of them out of the room to leave Dean and Elena alone to finally deal with it once and for all.

Elena tips her head to the side, arms still draped around Dean's neck comfortable. She looks at Ed and Harry, who both straighten up, looking distinctly uncomfortable yet still eager under her gaze.

"New friends?" she asks innocently.

Harry and Ed rush to answer her before Sam or Dean can.

"Yes, absolutely! We love these guys!"

Ed nods fervently. "Yeah, absolutely, instant connection kinda stuff."

"What were your names again?" Harry asks.

Elena bites her lower lip, clearly trying not to laugh. "We have to go," she tells them.

Sam leaves first, saying goodbye and then hauling ass outside before he starts laughing at them right to their faces.

Elena takes her time, unwinding herself from Dean tantalizingly slow, keeping her eyes on his face. He grins at her as she tucks herself into his side. His arm low on her waist, he hooks his fingers through the back belt loop of her shorts.

"See ya," he tosses over his shoulder.

Elena, for her part, does not acknowledge them at all, the cruelest southern snub.

Outside, Sam has recovered from his laughing fit.

"Thanks for the rescue," Dean says.

Sam nods in agreement. "I was so sure they were gonna start blabbing off about ghost hunting like they know what they were talking about."

Elena smiles graciously. "I hate guys like that," she admits easily. "Always thinking they're better than everyone because they think they know something we don't."

Dean snorts, nodding his head in agreement.

Sam shrugs. "I dunno, it's kind of pathetic, considering how clueless they actually are."

"I guess," she agrees reluctantly. "But not pathetic enough for me to feel bad," she adds.

Dean laughs, pulling her in closer to kiss the top of her head. "It's kinda hot when you're mean," he admits.

"You liked that, huh?" she asks with arch amusement.

He nods. "As long as it's directed at someone else."

Sam rolls his eyes at them. "C'mon guys, you can flirt at the library."

"The library is one of my favorite places to flirt," Elena responds seriously.

Dean snorts. "Well, what are you waiting for? I got a killer line waiting for you in the local history section."

Elena winks at him with exaggerated playfulness. "I can't wait."

Sam groans loudly, a mixture of annoyed, amused, and uncomfortable.

A few hours later Sam exits the library to meet up with Dean and Elena who'd quickly gotten bored of flirting in the library and moved on to flirting at the police station.

Sam spots them pretty quickly. "Hey," he greets them.

"Hey," Dean replies, arm around Elena's shoulders. "What you got?"

Sam is eager to share what he learned. "Well, I couldn't find a Mordechai, but I did find a Martin Murdock who lived in that house in the '30s. He did have children but only two of them, both boys, and there's no record he ever killed anyone."

Dean looks stumped. "Huh."

"What about you guys?" Sam asks.

Dean shakes his head, indicating it was a bust. "Well, those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but we did hit up the police station, and Elena," he strokes his fingers through her ponytail, "got friendly with a deputy." He shrugs. "No matching missing persons. It's like she never existed."

They reach the Impala, Sam keeping a straight face with the best of them.

Dean breaks away from Elena to circle around to the driver's side.

"Dude, come on, we did our digging, man, this one's a bust all right. For all we know those HellHound boys made up the whole thing," Dean says.

Sam glances away before agreeing, "Yeah, all right."

He glances over at Elena. "I say we head to Mexico."

She shakes her head. "I'm not putting the bikini back on," she says coyly.

"You don't have to wear it," Dean tells her with a teasing smirk.

Sam shifts uncomfortably. "Do you guys have to do that here?" he asks.

Elena takes pity on him. "C'mon, let's go."

Dean obliges, getting into the driver's seat. Before Elena can open the back door to get in, Sam stops her, subtly shaking his head. He's gonna take Dean's word for it that it's not worth it to involve Elena. She rolls her eyes but doesn't move to open the door again.

Dean, oblivious to their silent exchange, turns on the car, salsa music blasting through the speakers. "Whoa! What the…" He turns down the music, recovering from the shock quickly as Sam cackles on the sidewalk.

Elena rolls her eyes, climbing into the backseat. Sam follows her lead, getting into the front, still chuckling. With his finger, Sam gives himself a point on an invisible scoreboard.

Dean gives him an annoyed glare. "That's all you got?" he asks dryly. "That's weak. That is bush league."

He gestures at the music, glancing back at Elena. "Although I think the music decided it for us, we should totally go to Mexico."

She leans forward to rest her crossed arms on the back of his seat. "I'll go to Mexico if you dance with me," she offers.

Dean makes a face. "I don't even know how to do that kind of dancing."

She smiles at him. "I could teach you."

Sam supposes he shouldn't feel quite as shocked as he does that Dean looks like he's seriously considering it.

"All right, let's go find a bar and some beer and figure out exactly what those lessons would entail."

Sam is sinking down in seat, feeling discomfited. How in the hell did his silly prank turn into another way for Dean and Elena to flirt with each other?

"So," Sam says later in the bar, looking over at Dean. "Chicago," he says, like this is a complete statement.

Dean takes his eyes off Elena who is playing pool against the most cowboy-looking motherfucker Dean has ever seen. "Yeah," Dean agrees. "Chicago."

It's taken Sam awhile to get why Dean spends so much time watching Elena play pool instead of playing himself. Elena tends to be underestimated and she can flirt like it's a bloodsport, so she has the ability to convince men to bet ridiculously high amounts of money against her and to win it all away from them too. Most of them don't even seem that upset by their loss. In their mind, her undivided attention for the length of the game is payment enough. They get to go back to their friends strutting like a damn peacock after the hottest girl in the bar spent the duration of the game flipping her hair and smiling at them while pretending to like how they stole glances down the front of her shirt.

And Dean, knowing how underestimated she is, has made a small fortune betting on Elena in pool games. The few men who bother to call him out for betting on a girl no one expects to win are easily placated with Dean's easy grin and flippant reply.

"I always bet on the hot girl, 'cause then even if I lose, I win."

And well, when Elena leaves the bar with him, their combined winnings more than all the bartenders' tips put together, no one questions it. It looks like easy flattery, betting on her when everyone else seemed to think she'd lose. They all just grumble, wishing they'd been smart enough to bet on her. Stowing away the idea for the next time they run into a girl like her – having no idea how much they'd regret it if they did.

Elena, waiting her turn, flips her hair, glancing at Dean over her shoulder, flashing him a grin and a wink, not even trying to confound her opponent, but succeeding anyway.

"You think that's the first time she's ever kissed him?" Sam finds himself asking, though he meant to ask something else.

"Not exactly," is Dean's reply.

Sam is surprised. "Really?"

Elena lines up her shot.

"Remember when Dad asked if that was the worst it'd ever been?"

Sam nods.

"She lied," Dean says with certainty. "He's definitely a handsy motherfucker," he concludes grimly.

Elena sinks the ball with the finesse of a girl who grew up in a pool hall. She flashes a devastating smile at her opponent.

Sam is uneasy. It had not crossed his mind that Elena would lie to his father. In his mind, he had thought John Winchester the one person Elena Gilbert didn't lie to. Now he sees that she's just as willing to tell him what he needs to hear as she is with anyone else. John needs to believe that no lines are being crossed, that Elena is not being forced to tolerate unwanted attention, so Elena lies. Elena is very good at lying.

"What the hell is he?" Sam asks suddenly.

"Not human," Dean says with grim certainty.

"He's fast and he's strong," Sam recites.

"And he made little Meggie shake in her boots," Dean adds.

"And Dad hasn't tried to kill him," is Sam's next contribution.

"We don't know that he hasn't tried," is Dean's rebuttal.

"If he's tried, Elena's friend definitely doesn't know he did," Sam says. "I don't think Dad would still be living if he knew."

Dean nods in agreement, face lined with tension at the thought.

"He's in love with Elena," Sam says next, because he can't not say it.

"I know," Dean says. "Elena does too."

Sam hadn't gotten that far yet, but it makes sense. "That's why she asked if he was sure about kissing her," Sam realizes. "She doesn't love him back."

"And she doesn't want to hurt him with that fact," Dean says, trying not to sound too satisfied, but fooling no one.

"Meg wanted to know if Elena was around because she thought he might come rescue her if she was, right?" Sam does the nice thing for once and ignores Dean's private triumph.

His brother nods. "I guess it's a good thing we lied about that, who knows what Meg had in mind for us if she knew Elena was around."

Sam shakes his head.

For a wordless moment they contemplate the idea.

Dean is the one who finally addresses the elephant having a pint between them. "Doppelgangers, plural."

Sam nods. "Doppelgangers, plural," he echoes. "And her friend seems to have known them all."

Dean snorts. "More like he's got a thing for them all."

"I'm starting to get the idea that being a doppelganger ain't exactly grand," Sam theorizes.

Dean chews on his lower lip. "Well, yeah," he says grimly. "Remember?" He looks at Sam. "Absolutely safe or dead. Those are some pretty severe odds."

"Right."

There is an eruption of sound from the pool tables. Elena has won her game. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, beaming at Dean from across the room. He smiles, looking hopelessly fond as he gets out of his seat to head over to claim his winnings.

They're getting ready to leave town when they hear rumblings about something happening at Hell House, including an ambulance being called, so they decide to check it out.

When they arrive there's a small group of bystanders milling around with the police as they wheel a body bag on a gurney out the door.

Elena, recognizing the deputy from the police station the day before, heads over to talk to him while the boys hang back. After a few minutes of back and forth, both looking very serious, Elena touches the deputy's arm, then departs.

"What happened?" Dean asks.

"Deputy Lionel said a girl hanged herself in the house," Elena relays grimly.

Sam and Dean exchange a startled look.

"Suicide?" Sam asks.

Elena nods. "That's what it looks like." She shakes her head. "Lionel's mom was friends with Jill – that was her name – Jill's mom. Jill was a straight A student, with a full ride to her dream college. It doesn't really make sense."

"What do you think?" Sam asks Dean.

Dean looks at him. "I think maybe we missed something."

Elena nods in agreement.

They wait until dark to return to investigate the inside of Hell House. Unfortunately, it remains taped off with a cop car parked out front keeping watch as well as a few officers patrolling the surrounding woods. They take cover behind a particularly dense bush. An officer strolls by, flashlight searching but they remain hidden.

"I guess the cops don't want any more kids screwing around in there," Sam says in a low tone.

"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," Dean points out needlessly.

Elena looks thoughtful. "I mean, I guess my car could've run out of gas just up the road," she suggests.

Before either brother can respond to her idea, they hear from behind them the sound of twigs snapping and leaves crunching underfoot, then a very familiar voice exclaims, "Ouch!"

The three hunters exchange disbelieving looks.

"I don't believe it," Dean says, catching sight of the Harry and Ed first.

Sam follows his line of sight, seeing the two of them bickering not-so quietly as they creep closer, loaded down with gear.

"Actually, Elena, I've got a better idea," Sam says as he turns back to them.

Elena raises an eyebrow. "A better idea then me distracting all those cops for an indetermined period of time while you guys sneak in? Do tell."

Sam rifles through his pockets until he finds their card. He dials.

"GHOSTBUSTERS! / WHEN THERE'S SOMETHING STRANGE / IN YOUR NEIGHBORHOOD / WHO YOU GONNA CALL? / GHOSTBUSTERS!"

The ringtone is blaringly loud, catching the attention of the officers.

"I have never been more embarrassed for another person," Elena says through snickers.

"That could not have been more perfect if I planned it," Sam says in genuine awe.

"I didn't even know people still had songs as ringtones," is Dean's contribution.

Sam is the first to realize that perhaps they are too absorbed in the spectacle the two wannabe ghost hunters are making as they sprint away from the police.

"C'mon guys, let's go," he says.

There is a brief exchange at the backdoor on whether Elena should stay outside or not, but eventually she agrees to stay on the back porch, just to be safe.

Inside the house, Sam and Dean make their way through the familiar rooms.

"Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!" Dean says as they pass the unusual, hooked cross, pointing his flashlight at it as if seeing it again in different light will remind him.

"Come on, we don't have much time," Sam reminds him, shotgun at the ready.

They make their way through the house, down into the basement where Jill had died. The basement is dark and musty, full of jars of unidentifiable horrors. It's not quite as horrifying as the Bender's nightmare cellar, but it's a close call. They examine the room.

Dean picks up one of the jars. "Hey Sam, I dare you to take a swig of this," he says as he examines in amused horror.

Sam is not as amused. "The hell would I do that for?"

Dean glances over his shoulder, grinning snidely at him. "I double dare you."

Sam just shakes his head.

There is a rustling noise from the corner, so Dean puts the jar back on the shelf to investigate. Sam follows. They finally narrow down the source of the noise to a broken-down cabinet.

Guns and flashlight aimed at it, Dean nods for Sam to open it. A bunch of rats run out, but no ghosts follow.

Dean lets out a cry of disgust. "I hate rats."

"You'd rather it was a ghost?" Sam asks dryly.

Dean looks at him, dead serious. "Yes."

It only takes them a moment to realize there is a looming figure behind them. Mordechai Murdock raises an ax at them, revealing slashed wrists. In unison the brothers raise their guns and fire, but to no avail.

"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam yells.

"I dunno," Dean replies. "Come on. Come on, come on!"

They run as Mordechai Murdock destroys the basement with his ax.

They burst out of the back door, Dean colliding with Elena who has half-risen out of her seat. They spin together, their trajectory landing them back on her chair, Elena in Dean's lap.

Barely a breath, then Elena says, "Well, this is my favorite seat," arms twined around his neck.

For a moment, Dean looks thunderstruck.

"Guys, not now!" Sam yells.

"Right," Dean says, breaking out of his revere. He scoops Elena up, setting her on her feet, grabbing her hand to drag along with him.

Ed and Harry are loitering in front of the house when they nearly plow right into them,

"Get that damn thing outta my face," Dean says in response to the camera Ed has pointed at him.

"Go, go, go!" Sam yells.

The three hunters continue to sprint as Mordechai Murdock pursues them, the spirit moving through the house as they'd gone around, but the two amateurs are frozen in fear.

"Sweet Lord…" Harry begins, lowering his camera.

"…of the Rings," Ed finishes. Luckily, he has a smidgeon more sense than his friend, because he grabs the front of his jacket, dragging him away. "RUN! GO, GO, GO!"

They run directly into the cops. "Look, there's a…look. There's a man over there…" They babble, trying to explain, but when they turn back, Mordechai Murdock has vanished. "I saw…where'd he go?"

The police shake their heads, grabbing the terrified duo.

"Boys, come on," one of them says as they lead them to the patrol car.

The next morning at the motel, Sam is up to his ears in research, overflowing the small breakfast nook and haloing the end of the bed where Elena is sprawled.

Dean is at the head of the bed, scribbling away on the motel stationary. If either Elena or Sam had bothered to look, they'd find the notepad full of the unaccounted-for symbol on the walls of Hell House, but both are far too absorbed in their own research.

Sam rises to go get something from the vending machine, nose still buried in a library book.

Elena watches with interest as the door closes behind him. "Did Sam just take a book on a snack run?"

Dean snorts, looking up from his doodling. "Yeah, no matter what, you'll never out-nerd that guy."

"Noted," she says, sounding more amused than put out.

She looks back over her shoulder at him. He's about to say something about the symbol, but Elena's mind is on a completely different wavelength from his, for once. Still looking at him, she gives a deliberate wiggle, moving just a little closer, and shaking her ass right in his face.

Dean drops his notepad, looking up at the ceiling. "Jesus Christ, Elena." He inhales sharply, eyes closed.

He hears a giggle from the end of the bed.

"You are evil," he tells her, grinning and wincing all at once.

"And you need to up your game if that's all it takes," Elena says sweetly.

"Those shorts are way too short for you to be doing that."

"You're the one who chose to sit there," she says, unrepentant.

"You really are merciless," he mutters, still looking at the ceiling. "And what was with that line last night?" he adds, replaying it vividly.

"That was pure reflex," she insists, but he can hear the mischief in her voice.

"Reflex, my ass," he says between gritted teeth. He's trying to focus on his breathing, on anything but her, but she isn't making it easy. Her bare legs are pressed against his jean clad ones, her pointed toes tucked under his thigh.

"You know, you're losing pretty spectacularly for someone who started this whole thing," she says casually, reminding him that he had started it.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he grumbles. Blindly, he reaches down, grabbing his jacket from the floor and throwing it at her.

She starts laughing in earnest then. He feels the bed shift and her feet pull out from under his leg, so he assumes it's safe to look again.

Elena is sitting cross-legged next to him now, his jacket abandoned on her research.

She's biting her lower lip to keep from laughing at him, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"That was dirty," he tells her.

"Isn't that the point?" she asks, not at all innocently.

He ignores her because any other response wouldn't be part of the game, it'd be the real deal. As much as he wants it, he knows neither of them are ready for the real deal until they're both being honest with each other. So instead, he grabs the motel stationary again just to have something else to do with his hands.

"What are you scribbling in there?" Elena asks, finally taking pity on him.

He's showing her just as Sam comes back, a predictably boring bag of trail mix balanced on top of his book.

Elena gestures him over to peer at Dean's paper, drawing him into the conversation.

"What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me," Dean says, focusing with all his might on the familiar, elusive symbol and the disparities of the job. "This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

"It does," Sam confirms.

"Elena was outside the whole time," Dean needlessly points out.

Elena herself nods her confirmation.

"The legend also says he hung himself, but did you see those slit wrists?" Sam says.

Dean nods. "Yeah."

Sam starts pacing. "What's up with that? And the axe too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?"

Dean interjects. "But this mook keeps changing."

"Exactly," Sam says in frustration, returning to his seat, opening his laptop again. "I'm telling ya," he starts, warming up for a good long rant. "The way the story goes…" He trails off, something on his computer capturing his attention. "Wait a minute."

"What is it?" Elena asks.

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site," he says. "Listen to this: '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 eternity.'"

Elena is now standing behind him.

Still on the bed, Dean sits up suddenly as realization strikes.

"Where the hell is this going?" Sam asks rhetorically, trying to puzzle out all the inconsistencies and left turns with this case.

Dean interjects. "I don't know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," he tells them, still looking at his rendition of the drawing.

"Is that Papyrus?" Elena asks, squinting at the computer screen.

Sam snorts. "Elena we can make fun of their shitty web design later," he says. "Where are we going?" he asks his brother.

"The record shop," he responds.

"Can you stand?" Elena asks him, looking just a little bit smug.

Dean glares at her playfully. "Yeah, no thanks to you."

Sam glances between the two of them. "I don't wanna know," he says flatly.

"It's like I told you, she's merciless," Dean says, sounding very serious.

Elena lets out a giggle that can only be described as wicked. She goes to put on her shoes.

"And put on some damn pants," Dean calls after her.

Her only response is another wicked giggle.

"I really, really don't wanna know," Sam says under his breath.

When they walk into the record store, Craig is a wreck.

"Hey Craig, remember us?" Dean asks with a friendly grin.

Craig looks up from his coffee. "Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?" He sounds pleading.

Dean shakes his head. "Oh, don't worry," he says carelessly. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all," he adds.

It only takes him a little while to find the one he's looking for you. "You know I couldn't figure out what that symbol was," he addresses Sam and Elena as they walk, pitching his voice loud enough so that Craig will hear every word. "And then I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Öyster Cult."

They stop in front of Craig.

"Tell me, Craig, you, uh, you into BÖC?" Dean asks. "Or just scaring the hell outta people?" He hands the record to a guilty-looking Craig. "Now, why don't you tell us about that house…without lying through your ass this time."

Craig takes one look at Dean and starts talking. "All right, um. My cousin, Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do," he begins. "So, I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So, we painted symbols on the walls, some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks."

He sighs but continues. "Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we…" he trails off, having the decency to look ashamed. "We made up some story to go along with that. So, we told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website," he sounds agitated now.

"Everything just took on a life of its own," he looks between the three of them, Dean staring straight at him, and Elena and Sam exchanging looks of frustration.

He hastens to explain himself. "I mean I- I thought it was funny at first but…" he trails off again, a look of horrified disbelief on his face. "Now that girl's dead!" He looks between the three of them pleadingly. "It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!" He is on the verge of tears by the end of his speech.

Sam shakes his head.

"All right," Dean says quietly.

The three of them take their leave.

Once outside, Sam poses the question they are all asking themselves. "If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

The other two shake their heads.

As they head back to the car, Elena falls into step with Dean.

"You know, it's kinda hot when you get all hard ass like that," she says casually.

Dean laughs, throwing his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him.

Sam groans.

When Dean gets back to the motel room, Elena is on the bed, deep into The Turn of the Screw and Sam is in the shower – odd for this time of day – leaving an opportunity to perfect for Dean to resist.

The smell of coffee coming from Sam's chair tells the story for him: he must've spilled his coffee while researching.

Elena glances up at him briefly as makes his way over to Sam's pile of fresh clothes on the bed. Seeing him pull a familiar packet out of his pocket, she rolls her eyes and turns back to her book.

"Hey, I'm back," Dean calls out to Sam.

"Hey, where were you?" Sam calls back.

Dean responds vaguely. "Oh, I went out."

Elena shakes her head at his complete lack of discretion.

Sam doesn't even think twice, just launches into his new theory. "So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on."

Elena looks at the ceiling briefly, wondering how Sam ever survived growing up with Dean to still be as oblivious as he is.

Dean tosses out a perfunctory, "Oh yeah?"

"What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?" Sam suggests.

"Tulpa?" Dean repeats, leaping away from Sam's clothes just in time for him to open the bathroom door.

"Yeah," Sam continues, oblivious. "a Tibetan thought form."

"Ahh, yeah, I know what a Tulpa is," Dean says. "Hey why don't you get dressed, I wanna go grab something to eat." With that he takes he collapses back onto the bed next to Elena.

Sam grabs his clothes, oblivious. After he returns to the bathroom to change, Dean breaks out into a manic grin beside Elena.

Elena rolls her eyes, smiling fondly at him. "You're twelve," she tells him.

"Twelve-year-olds are hilarious," is Dean's comeback.

At the local burger joint they're just settling in and eating their food, but Sam can't stop fidgeting and scratching.

"Dude what's your problem?" Dean asks, somehow maintaining a straight face.

Elena ducks her head and takes a sip of her soda, pretending the amused look on her face is from the way the Coke fizzes her nose and not Dean's childish glee at getting one over on Sam.

Sam answers quickly. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Yeah?" Dean asks.

"Yeah," Sam responds stubbornly.

"So, uhhh," Dean almost loses it right there, but manages to reel himself in just in time.

"All right keep going. What about these Tulpas?"

Sam sighs, trying to focus on his theory about his case and not the itching. "Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. The meditated on it so hard they bought the thing to life. Outta thin air."

Elena looks impressed, Dean doesn't.

"So?" he asks.

"That was 20 monks. Imagine what 10,000 web surfers could do," Sam points out.

Now he has Dean and Elena's consideration.

Sam continues on enthusiastically. "I mean Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."

Dean is still skeptical. "Okay, wait a second. Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

Sam shrugs. "I dunno, maybe."

"People believe in Santa Claus – how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?" Dean asks.

Sam doesn't skip a beat. "'Cause you're a bad person."

Elena giggles.

Dean gives her a look that she returns.

"I like you bad," she promises.

"For the love of god, don't start that here." Sam groans.

Elena and Dean exchange an amused look.

He shoves his phone screen at them. "Also because of this..."

It's a picture of one of the symbols from Hell House.

"That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house," Sam says. "Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was. Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass," he explains.

Now he gets into his theory. "So, people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai…" he trails off. "I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life."

Dean seriously considers it now. "It would explain why he keeps changing."

"As the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes," Elena says slowly.

Sam nods eagerly, continuing her thought. "Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

Dean is fully on board now. "Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit per se."

"Yeah," Sam says, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.

Dean keeps a good poker face as he watches his brother suffer at his hands. "Okay. So why don't we just…uhh…get this spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?" He gestures his hand like it's that easy.

"Why do I get the feeling it isn't going to be that simple," Elena says.

"Because you're a lot smarter than Dean," Sam says. Dean tosses him a glare, but Sam ignores him and continues, "Once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own."

Sam is squirming against his chair, trying desperately to discreetly scratch.

"Great," Dean says, scratching his nose to conceal his triumphant smirk. "So, if he really is a thought form how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?" he asks.

"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam says. He shows them the website on his phone. "Check out their home page." At the top they have an old school views counter, and the video of Mordechai standing menacingly in the doorway of Hell House.

"Since they've posted the video their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone," Sam says grimly.

Dean is thinking very seriously. "I got an idea," he says, standing up. "Come on."

Sam and Elena follow.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks.

"We gotta find a copy store," is Dean's reply.

Sam, looking distinctly uncomfortable, can't stop twitching. "Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."

Dean starts laughing as he walks away.

"You did this?" Sam asks incredulously.

Elena gives him a sympathetic look.

"You're a friggin' jerk!" Sam yells after his brother, gaining the attention of a few of the other diners.

"Oh yeah," Dean replies with deep satisfaction.

"You think that absolute babe hanging out with those jerks is interested in guys who aren't brave enough to go back to the house?" Ed says in a carrying voice.

Outside the trailer in the junkyard Elena looks at Dean in utter despair while he tries not to laugh at her.

"Babe?" she mouths in revulsion.

Sam is sympathetic, Ed and Harry are creeps of the highest order.

Dean pulls her close, whispering low in her ear, "Well, you are an absolute babe, but I can definitely think of better things to call you."

Elena shivers. Babe sounds so much better when Dean says it.

"Seriously guys?" Sam hisses. "This is getting old."

Dean just laughs at him but pulls away from Elena to pound on the trailer door with the side of his fist.

A high-pitched squeal comes from inside the trailer.

"Who is it?" Harry asks.

"Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there," Dean calls out.

"It's them!" Ed says with significant disgust, seemingly unaware they can hear him.

The door opens.

"Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging – what a shock," Dean says sarcastically.

Elena gives him a look. "Jeremy has a Blade action figure still in the package," she reminds him.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Not the same thing at all," he raises a finger. "One: you gave it to him as an inside joke," he raises a second finger. "And two: Jeremy's an artist who lives in Brooklyn and he knows how to talk to chicks. He's cool enough that no one cares that he has an action figure in the original packaging."

Sam interrupts them to address Ed and Harry, "Guys, we need to talk."

Ed responds pompously. "Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're uh, a little bit busy right now."

Elena smiles at him, cocking her head to the side. "How busy?"

He gapes at her.

"Not busy," Harry babbles. "We're not busy at all."

Dean looks away to hide his smirk, coughing to hide his laughter.

After composing himself he looks back to address them. "We'll make it quick," he says. "We need you to shut down your website."

Ed laughs in disbelief. "You know, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell…"

Harry pipes up. "I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright."

"Why should we trust you guys?" Ed asks.

Sam speaks, like they'd practiced at the copy store. "Look guys, we all know what we saw last night, what's in the house. But now thanks to your website there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai."

Dean swallows his anger and continues on with their planned line of reasoning. "That's right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt."

"Yeah," Ed says.

"Ed maybe he's got a point," Harry says nervously.

"No," Ed says, and Harry immediately reverses.

"Nope," he says in swift agreement.

"We have an obligation to our fans," Harry says arrogantly. "To the truth."

Dean starts to laugh in a way that is distinctly unfriendly. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now-" he starts.

"Dean – Dean, hey, hey, just, forget it, all right?" Sam says. "These guys…" he looks between the two wannabe ghosthunters, both Sam and Dean tower over them, and Elena is of height with Harry. "You could probably bitch slap them both, I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai…but they're still not gonna help us," he says vaguely. "Let's just go."

This catches both Ed and Harry's attention, exactly as planned.

"Whoa, whoa..." Ed starts, backtracking immediately.

"Yeah, you're right," Dean agrees, arm easily settled over Elena's shoulder.

The three of them start to leave.

"What were you saying about Mordechai?" Harry asks as they follow them.

Ed jumps in front of them, bringing them to a halt. "Hang on a second here."

"What thing about Mordechai, you guys?" Harry asks, desperate to know.

"Don't tell them, Sam," Elena says, giving them a distinctly mistrustful look. Dean nods in agreement.

"But if they agree to shut the website down," Sam sounds like a kid reciting lines for the school play.

Dean can feel the laughter Elena is suppressing in her ribcage at Sam's bad acting and he barely resists the urge to stroke his fingers down her side until she is breathless with laughter.

Dean responds, sounding much less rehearsed. "They're not going to do it, you said so yourself."

Ed is desperate. "No wait. Wait. Don't listen to him, okay?" he says. "We'll do it. We'll do it," he promises.

"It's a secret, Sam," Elena reminds him, the only one who sounds natural.

"Look, it is a really big deal, all right," Sam says, holding his arms out like a kid following blocking – and badly. "And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down." He points at them seriously.

Elena and Dean have to turn around for a moment, so Harry and Ed won't notice their trembling lips and bitten back guffaws.

"Totally," Ed says, not at all believable.

Dean, Elena, and Sam exchange a look.

"All right," Sam says.

Elena extracts a piece of paper from Dean's jacket for him, holding it out for Ed and Harry to read.

"It's a death certificate," Dean says. "From the '30s."

Sam chimes in. "We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"That's right, he didn't hang or cut himself," Dean says.

"He shot himself?" Harry asks in disbelief.

"Yep," Sam confirms. "With a .45 pistol."

Elena adds, "To this day they say he's terrified of them."

It's Dean's turn. "As a matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds – you can kill the son of a bitch."

Harry stares at them, and then does an abrupt turn to sprint back to their trailer. Ed grabs him, hissing in his ear like he truly believes that the other three can't hear him. "Harry! Slow your roll buddy. They're gonna know we're excited."

Harry settles down but looks desperately like he wants a keyboard in front of him immediately – or like he needs to go to the bathroom.

"So uh, is that all?" Ed asks casually.

Elena's phone rings, not part of their script. She looks at it. "I have to take this," she says to Dean, stepping out of his embrace and walking away from them to answer the phone in private.

"What is it?" she asks the caller, and then she is out of hearing range.

Sam and Dean watch with significant interest, both wondering who she's talking to.

Ed has other things on his mind, unaware that Elena is a far more fascinating mystery than what's on his mind. He hits Dean's arm, trying to look casual and cool, but clearly over-eager.

"So, what's it like to tap that?" he asks like he and Dean are best bros.

Harry tries not to look too eager.

"Excuse me?" Dean asks.

Sam can see he's pissed. Sam isn't too pleased himself, barely able to hide his disgust.

Ed ignores their obvious displeasure. "C'mon man, we just wanna know."

Dean looks between them, Ed, arrogant but obviously eager, and Harry, wilting but equally desperate.

For a moment, Sam is sure Dean is going to hit Ed – and he can't quite blame his brother for it – but then Dean seems to find his center.

"What you need to know is this: she could break every bone in your pathetic little bodies," he says flatly.

Sam is surprised. It's more than likely true, with Dean being the one who trained her, but he didn't expect Dean to say it out loud to these guys.

"Wha-What?" Harry asks, eyes wide.

Even Ed looks taken aback.

"You heard me," Dean says bluntly. "Every bone." He smiles then, heart-meltingly fond. "You should see her in action, she's like Wonder Woman."

Sam is definitely filing this away for later, it's unspeakably adorable that Dean is comparing Elena to a superhero, and he will be teasing his older brother about it for months.

Dean, however, is not done.

"Now, don't get me wrong, I like that in a woman," he pauses here, delicately, deliberately building the tension. "But uh, it can be pretty scary sometimes."

Elena is not paying attention to them, absorbed in conversation, leaning against some old junker, knee bent.

Dean points. "You see that scar on her leg?"

Harry's eyes somehow get wider at the sight of it, it's the largest scar he's ever seen in real life, and it's gracing the most perfect set of legs he's seen, ever.

Ed and Harry nod.

Elena glances over, seeing them all watching her. She finds Dean, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. He grins at her, unrepentant. She grins back at him, winking teasingly.

"Well, uh, you should probably know what she did to the guy who gave it to her," Dean starts, turning back to them, clearly just warming up. "You see, she was in this bar, and this guy just would not take no for an answer…"

Sam has to turn away, well aware that his brother is about to scar these two guys for life, and not at all mad at him for it. It serves them right, saying that kind of thing about Elena to Dean of all people. He's pretty sure Dean's answer would be the same even if he was sleeping with her.

It's funny too, because the story Dean is coming up with is gruesome, but it's not nearly as horrifying as the truth. Ed and Harry don't seem prepared to learn that manticores exist. Plus, Sam has seen Elena break a guy's fingers for touching her without her permission, so Dean's story is really just an exaggeration of the truth.

Sam winces at the latest twist in Dean's story. An extreme exaggeration of the truth.

In the local diner for lunch, the three of them are crammed into a small booth with Elena and Dean on the side by side with Sam across the table. He's pretty sure there's some footsy going on under the table that he wants nothing to do with.

On the wall above their booth is the automated figure of a fisherman, if you pull the string he laughs in a truly demonic way. Dean, eyes straight ahead, reaches out and pulls the string again.

Elena looks vaguely amused, but Sam is annoyed.

"If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you," Sam says through gritted teeth.

Dean smiles benignly at him, pulling the string instantly. He chuckles at Sam's pissy face.

"Come on man, you need more laughter in your life. You know you're way too tense." When Sam doesn't reply, Dean asks, "They post it yet?"

Sam refreshes the HellHounds website on his phone. He shows Dean and Elena the latest posting.

"We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms," Elena reads out loud. "Nice alliteration."

Sam snorts.

"All right," Dean says, satisfied. "How long do we wait?" he asks.

"Long enough for the new story to spread," Sam says, taking his phone back. "And the legend to change. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker."

Sam holds out his beer to toast with Dean and Elena.

"Sweet," Dean says, following suit.

Elena does too, looking up at the ceiling briefly.

Sam snickers into his beer.

When Dean tries to set down his drink, he finds the bottle affixed to his hand, he hadn't noticed the glue because of the condensation.

"You didn't," Dean says dangerously, realizing he'd left his drink alone with Sam at the table to go to the bathroom.

Laughingly, Sam shows him the superglue bottle. "Oh, I did!" Sam gleefully pulls the string, causing the fisherman to joyfully cackle at Dean's predicament. Sam laughs along with him.

Elena takes Dean's free hand with sympathy. "C'mon, let's go to the drugstore."

"Drugstore?" Dean asks helplessly.

"Nail polish remover works wonders on superglue."

Elena gets up and Dean follows her, leaving Sam to take care of the check.

Dean starts, "Could you just-"

Elena cuts him off. "I don't do consultations," she says, already knowing that he wants her to use her brilliant, twisted prankster's mind to help him get back at Sam. "So, if I'm in the game, I'm in the game."

Dean gulps. "Never mind, I'll think of something."

Elena smiles sweetly. "I thought so."

They walk outside, heading around the corner to the drugstore they'd passed earlier.

"Hey, Dean?" Elena asks.

"Yeah?"

"Why did Ed and Harry look so terrified when I came back from my phone call?" she asks.

Dean snickers to himself. "Who called?" he asks instead of answering.

"My friend from Chicago," Elena answers, surprising him.

Dean clears his throat. "You mean the uh, one that…"

"Kissed me?" she offers, seeing his discomfort from a mile away.

He nods begrudgingly. She'd made it clear that the kiss had been his payment for helping rescue them, but Dean didn't have to like it, especially when her so-called friend looks like he does.

"Yes, that's the one," she says, smiling.

"What did he want?" He tries not to sound too grumbly.

"I need to visit him at some point this summer," she answers honestly. "He just wanted to know when."

Dean narrows his eyes, wondering why she phrased it like that.

"Well, I've already got dibs on your birthday," he reminds her. It's only a week away, he's been planning her 21st birthday pretty much since they met.

She nods. "I know, it won't be until later."

"I can't believe he made you kiss him," is his response.

"I'd have done just about anything for him to save you," she says honestly. She looks at him seriously. "And he knows that." She looks at him. "All things considered; I'm surprised that's all he asked for."

Dean squirms, uncomfortable with the whole situation. "So, uh," he starts as casually as he can. "He really likes that scar of yours," he gestures with his beer hand, "on your neck."

"That he does," she says, sounding grim.

There is an implication hidden within her short statement that makes Dean stop.

Elena turns to look at him, questioning.

"He gave it to you," he says, realizing that some part of him had known the moment the stranger had touched it so reverently.

Elena's only response is to look away.

"Elena, that means he's the one that-"

She cuts him off. "I don't want to talk about that," she says with finality.

He tries again. "But he-"

She looks at him and his words dry up.

"It's already done," she says, unaware that she is echoing herself from the day she met – discussing the exact same event, if his hunch is right.

Dean sees that he's not going to get anywhere, so he starts walking again, changing the subject only slightly.

"Why was he even there in the first place?" he asks. He can feel his heart pounding, a kind of rage he hasn't met before pumping through his blood.

Some people just leave their mark on you, that's what she said in Charleston. Some people kill you then kiss you. Some people love knowing that they've marked you.

"He loves Chicago," she answers, pulling him from his thoughts, then adds the truth, "And I was there, pretending to be someone else," she hesitates here, but takes the plunge, "With the help of someone who's…volatile," she says carefully.

"He was worried about you," Dean realizes out loud. He hadn't known she was with anyone in Chicago. He can only speculate what kind of person would make the seemingly invincible stranger who rescued them worried. He can't reconcile the idea that the stranger who seemed so intent on Elena, so fixated, is also the one who sacrificed her – killed her.

Elena gets a mulish look on her face. "He shouldn't have been." She looks angry, almost. "I can take care of myself."

Dean nods. "I know that." She can't even stand that her murderer might care for her, and it's incomprehensible. It makes no sense.

She softens, filled with the warmth of his faith in her. The look on her face softens him in return, causing the rage to recede – not that he will forget it anytime soon.

"So, he jumped at the chance to pull off a rescue?" he prompts. He's getting more of the story out of her than usual, and he's certainly not gonna stop asking now that he is. Even if she'd stopped short of the biggest revelation, this is more than he'd dreamed of when this conversation started.

"Please." She scoffs, surprising him. "He's been looking for an excuse to meet you for years."

"Why would he want to meet me?" Dean asks, genuinely surprised.

"Well, Dean Winchester," Elena says, "You do have a reputation," she reminds him, then adds. "And he's always asking about you," she pauses before the last one. "And you're important to me."

"Always asking about me, huh?" Dean asks, pretending to be puffed up.

Elena plays along, teasing. "Yeah, I wouldn't put it past him to have a crush on you."

"Right." Dean guffaws. "I don't think whatever he is, is my type," he says, the aftertaste of rage still on his tongue.

"No." Elena sobers. "No, I don't think so."

She doesn't tell him what her friend is, and they both are all too aware of this omission. What kind of monster needs a sacrifice? Why would they need a sacrifice?

The deputies easily fall for their plan to lure them away using the laughing fisherman. While the deputies are distracted, they enter the house, guns drawn at the ready.

They check each room.

"I barely have any skin left on my palm," Dean says, irritated.

"I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole," Sam says with a snort.

Elena considers it. "No, it's too easy, I'm not gonna say it," she decides.

Sam winces as Dean snorts, both understanding her implication perfectly.

They make it through the house and to the door that leads down to the cellar, every room empty and undisturbed.

"So, you think old Mordechai's home?" Dean asks.

Elena just shakes her head.

"I don't know," Sam replies.

"Me either," Ed says from behind them.

In unison, the three hunters swing around, guns pointed directly at Harry and Ed.

"WHOA! WHOA!" the two of them yell.

"What the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed?" Sam asks as he lowers his gun.

Elena and Dean follow suit, exchanging annoyed looks.

"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?" Ed admits, hands still raised. He has his camera in hand.

Harry is cowering behind Ed at the sight of Elena holding a gun. Ed himself looks ready to back out of the room away from her.

"You let her have a gun," Ed hisses.

"She's a great shot," Dean answers seriously.

Elena looks at Dean again, puzzled, but smiling. He just smiles back, not answering her unspoken question about why the two wannabes are suddenly terrified of her.

The sound of a blade being sharpened causes them all to turn back to the cellar door.

"Oh crap," Ed says, but moves closer to film from behind the safety of Dean and Sam. He stays carefully away from Elena, Harry keeping an eye on her instead of the ghost.

"Ah guys, you wanna…you wanna open that door for us?" Ed asks nervously.

"Why don't you?" Dean asks in return.

"Make her open it," Harry hisses.

Dean snorts. "She's not really the kinda girl you use as fodder."

"You say the sweetest things," Elena responds, her tone full of promise.

Mordechai busts through the door with a yell, all three hunters firing instantly. Mordechai disappears into a wisp of black smoke. Dean cocks his head and the three of them split up to search the house.

"Wait a minute, he's gone?" Ed is babbling. "Oh, he's gone."

"Did you get him?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah, they got him," Ed answers, assured that the three hunters had shot him to hell.

Harry rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "No, on camera, did you get him on camera."

Ed flustered, looks at his camera. "Ah, ah, I…"

Harry wrestles it away. "Let me see it, let me see it."

Mordechai reappears, taking a swing with his axe at Harry's arm, knocking him to the ground.

"Hey!" Dean returns in an instant, Elena and Sam on his heels. "Didn't you guys post that B.S. story we gave you?" he asks.

"Of course, we did," Ed says.

"But then our server crashed," Harry finishes.

Ed nods. "Yeah."

Sam rolls his eyes.

"So, it didn't take?" Elena asks.

Both Ed and Harry look petrified to be addressed by her. They both avoid eye contact.

"So, these, these guns don't work," Dean concludes.

"Yeah," Ed replies.

"Your website sucks," Elena says flatly.

Ed and Harry look very much like they want to argue, but their newfound fear of her stops them.

"You said it, Gilbert," Dean agrees absentmindedly. "Great. Sam, any ideas?"

"We are getting outta here," Harry says, self-assured.

"Yeah," Ed agrees without moving.

Harry grabs him, making for the door. "Come on, Ed."

Mordechai appears in the next room. The two men scream, cringing away from him. They make for the next room.

They reach the front room. "Open the door!" The door is locked.

Mordechai has followed them.

"Mother Mary and Joseph," Harry whimpers.

"The power of Christ compels you," Ed mumbles. The words seem to give him power, so he repeats it. "The power of Christ compels you." He is yelling now. "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!"

This has no effect on Mordechai.

"HEY!" Sam yells, appearing in the doorway. "Come and get it you ugly son of a bitch."

Mordechai swings at him, but Elena slips out from behind Sam as he ducks, and kicks Mordechai's feet out from under him.

"Get out of here, now!" Sam yells as they tag team him.

"RUN!" Harry yells.

"We're out of here…" Ed agrees – wildly thinking that as much as Elena scares him, Dean is right, she is like Wonder Woman in action.

"She's just like Buffy!" Harry yells, echoing his train of thought.

Dean appears from the next room where he's finished coating the floor in kerosene. He rushes past them to help Sam and Elena with Mordechai. "She really doesn't like being called that," He tosses over his shoulder as an afterthought.

"I'm sorry, don't hurt me!" Harry yells instantly.

Elena ignores him, still confused by his newfound fear of her.

"Dean!" Sam calls. Mordechai has him against the wall, Elena is picking herself up off the ground.

Dean plows into Mordechai, throwing him off Sam.

He grabs Elena's hand, hauling her to her feet fully, then shoves Sam ahead of them. Mordechai is rebounding, so Dean lets go of Elena's hand to grab the can of Raid-X he found in the kitchen. Using a lighter, he creates a makeshift flamethrower to keep Mordechai away as the other two follow Ed and Harry out the back door. Dean follows.

"If Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him – we improvise," Dean says as they exit the back.

"That's your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?" Sam asks.

"It's a great idea," Elena says breathlessly.

Dean takes a moment to grin at her. "Aw, you little pyro," he says fondly, then drops his lit lighter onto the kerosene-soaked floor. In seconds, the room is ablaze.

Elena grins back, otherworldly beautiful in the light of the flames.

"C'MON GUYS," Sam bellows, exasperated.

Dean grabs Elena's hand again and they follow him out the back door. The house is ablaze in minutes.

Sam is staring at it. "Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy guys have decided to move past the denial phase of your relationship, but you really gotta stop flirting at inappropriate moments."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Note to self: get Sam laid," he mutters.

Elena giggles.

Before Sam can retort, Dean lays out his logic about deciding to burn down the house. "Nobody will go in anymore. I mean look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works."

Sam argues. "Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?" he poses a hypothetical.

Dean considers this, then shrugs. "Well – well then we'll just have to come back."

Sam stares at the fire. "Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the thing we hunted, how many existed just 'cause people believed in them."

"I'm not drunk enough for this conversation," Elena replies.

Dean laughs, wrapping his arms around her to kiss the top of her head. "That's my girl."

Harry and Ed are talking about attack bonuses and the munchies when they return with their snack food from the store.

Dean and Sam rise from the picnic bench they'd been lounging on.

"Gentlemen," Ed greets Sam and Dean, glancing at Elena sideways, "And scary lady."

Elena raises a bemused eyebrow, and he practically quakes in his boots, hastily looking away from her.

"Hey guys," Sam replies.

"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asks eagerly.

Ed responds pompously. "Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades."

"So, this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer," Harry starts.

"Oh yeah, wrong number?" Dean asks dryly.

"No, smartass," Ed retorts with dignity. "He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it."

"And create the RPG," Harry excitedly adds.

"The what?" Dean asks, confused.

"Role-playing game," Harry clarifies.

Elena hums. "Roleplaying?" the look she gives Dean is scorching and enough for Ed and Harry to look utterly envious – as well as confused and terrified.

"Just say the word," Dean responds.

Ed, annoyed that they have stolen his moment, cuts in. "A little lingo for you. Anywho, ahhh, excuse us, we're off to la-la land."

"Well congratulations, guys," Sam says sincerely. "That sounds really great."

"Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you," Dean adds.

Ed snorts. "Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent."

He points at Elena, in a fit of clear insanity. "Listen here, you, if you ever uh get a little anger management, call me up, I'm willing to do a little private casting call if you know what I mean." He winks at her.

Elena swallows a laugh, a look of confusion on her face. "I'll keep that in mind," she says dryly.

"Or uh, maybe you wanna write for us, maybe you're more than just a pretty face," he offers magnanimously. Hot babes could be smart too, just look at River Tam. "Or I'll bet you've got stories to tell."

"Oh sure," Elena says, a secret smile playing on her lips. "I could tell you about the curse of the sun and the moon." She says it lightheartedly, but Sam sees something haunted lurking in her eyes.

Ed nods. "Oh sure, whatever, that sounds cool."

Elena smiles serenely.

He aims his finger at Dean. "Seriously, you ever get bored of dating this loser, Hollywood could only be better with a face like yours."

Harry nods eagerly in the background, still clearly petrified of her.

Elena cocks her head to the side and Dean seems to tense in anticipation. She lets the confusion wash over her face.

"What are you talking about?" she asks, sounding genuinely confused. "Dean isn't my boyfriend."

Ed sputters.

Elena looks between Sam and Dean like Harry and Ed are delusional for thinking that. She looks back at Ed. "His dad practically raised me, that would be gross."

Harry is gaping at her.

Dean has to sit back down next to Elena to better hide his laughter. Sam is smiling up at the sky, wondering how with a few short sentences, Elena has out-pranked them all with the truth – well, mostly the truth anyway.

Ed looks very much like he wants to invite Elena to come along with them then and there – if that's how she behaves with a guy who is practically her family… – but is battling the memory of Dean's tale of her wrath.

Elena smiles serenely. "You were leaving," she reminds them gently.

Harry shakes himself and Ed nods. "Right," Ed says, his voice cracking. "I mean, yeah, call me."

Elena continues to smile. "Absolutely not."

Ed ignores her. "Later," he says to the boys.

They get into their overstuffed car.

Ed, at the wheel, takes his glasses off, posing for Elena. "See ya around…"

She shakes her head. "No," she repeats for the umpteenth time.

They take off, towing their trailer behind them.

Dean and Sam are both laughing now.

"Wow," Dean says.

"I have a confession to make," Sam says suddenly. He's sitting behind them on top of the picnic table.

Dean asks, "What's that?"

Sam is sheepish. "I, uh…I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer." He starts laughing.

Dean replies, "Yeah, well I'm the one who put the dead fish in their back seat."

They all laugh then.

"Somehow Elena telling them that you're not her boyfriend was a better prank than both of those," Sam marvels.

Elena shrugs. "I mean, it is true." She looks at Dean, eyes narrowed. "Why do they think I need anger management?"

Dean grins guiltily. "You know when you stepped away to take that call from your friend?"

She nods.

"Well, Ed asked a kind of a gross question," Sam chimes in.

Dean nods in agreement, looking slightly pissed at the memory.

"Okay," Elena says, not asking for details. She's got a feeling she doesn't want to know.

"So, I, uh, decided to freak 'em out; get 'em to leave you alone," Dean confesses.

"Which barely worked," Sam points out.

"Yeah, it figures that two nerds like that would be attracted to a girl who could break 'em in half," Dean says, shaking his head.

"So, what did you tell them?" Elena asks.

He grins again. "I made up this crazy story about some asshole who wouldn't take no for an answer, so the two of you got into a bar brawl and he gave you that scar."

Dean touches the curved edge of Elena's manticore scar and she shivers – for a moment she imagines what it would be like to kiss the callouses on his fingers – but then she is brought back to reality by the conclusion of Dean's story.

"And then I said you, uh…"

Sam cringes behind them, laughing but grossed out by the story Dean came up with.

Elena looks at him, clearly waiting for him to finish the story.

"I told them that you cut the guy's dick off and then made him eat it," Dean finally finishes.

There is a brief second of silence and then Elena is laughing, leaning into Dean as giggles explode out from behind her hand pressed to her mouth.

"That's…so…gross!" Elena yells, still laughing.

And then Sam and Dean are laughing too.

"I thought he'd lost his damn mind," Sam manages to gasp out between laughs.

When they all calm down, Elena turns to Dean.

"That is, without question," she begins. "The best story anyone has ever told about me."

He grins. "Glad you enjoyed it."

"If only Dean had been half as creative with his pranking as he was with that story," Sam says.

Dean gives him a look. "That sounds like a declaration of war, Sammy," he observes.

Sam laughs, shaking his head. "Truce?" he offers.

"Yeah, truce," Dean agrees, then tacks on, "At least for the next hundred miles."

Sam rolls his eyes as they all get up to head for the car.

"So, where are we going next?" Sam asks.

"Mexico," Dean answers seriously.

"C'mon man," Sam says.

"I'm serious," Dean says. "We are a week away from Elena Gilbert's 21st birthday," he says, which Sam hasn't realized. "I've been planning for her 21st since well, her 18th," he adds.

Elena smiles. "Well, you've never let me down for birthday celebrations yet," she says happily.

Dean grins at the memory of her last two birthdays.

"Why do I have a feeling none of us are going to remember this?" Sam asks.

"'Cause you still don't know remember anything about your 23rd except the cake," Dean answers.

Sam smiles at the memory of the cake. "Forget Mexico, we should get that cake for Elena's birthday," he says.

"We can't go back to Missouri yet, Sam," Elena reminds him. She turns to Dean, barely noticing that he ushers her into the front seat. "So, about dancing…" she starts.

Sam slides into the back without a word. He takes The Turn of the Screw from the back pocket of the front seat, where Elena always puts books when she's finished with them.

He makes it through the prologue, but he gets stuck on the first line of the first chapter, unable to go further.

"I remember the whole beginning as a succession of flights and drops, a little seesaw of the right throbs and the wrong."

He closes the book. Since he stumbled across the HellHounds website, an idea has been niggling at the back of Sam's brain. He takes out his phone, going to his web browser. He can see Elena's strange friend in his mind's eye, her face cupped in his hand as he reminds her that he's created suns and moons, and curses for her.

He glances up at Dean and Elena, completely engaged in each other.

Elena's answer to her friend had been an accusation of recruiting people to help him find her. He taps the search bar. Then when Harry had said she might have good stories, her answer had been too specific to not be something – and it had been too similar to the stranger's seemingly nonsensical list of deeds he performed for her – in the pursuit of her.

Sam types, the curse of the sun and the moon, and hits search.

AN: Chapter title from Graves by The Benjy Davis Project. Which is a song that has always felt very Supernatural and very Winchester to me.

Notes/References:

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James is an excellent book I read in college. It is also the main inspiration for The Haunting of Bly Manor on Netflix, which is an excellent show - it didn't quite take The Haunting of Hill House's place in my heart, but it's up there!

Revenge of the Nerds is…bad. I have nothing else to say about it or the Darth Vader mask scene.

Jim Morrison, lead singer of The Doors, was greatly influenced by literature and had many writer friends, as well as being a poet himself.

Yeah, it's always kind of bothered me that SPN got the history of the inverted cross wrong so I thought I'd use Elena as my vessel of correction - although realistically Dean would know, considering it's Black Fucking Sabbath that popularized it with Satanists, but I'm just working within the confines of canon.

Do I know what Elena did to Dean that made him too afraid to ever prank her again? Yes. Am I going to share? Probably not. Not for any particular reason except that a) I'm not actually interested enough to write it, and b) sometimes it's better to leave a little to the imagination.

In the episode Dean just yells "who you gonna call?" to call the cops' attention to Ed and Harry but I thought it would be funnier if it was their ringtone.

One of Elena's flirty comments to Dean is a direct quote from a song that I happen to share my name with :)

Blade is a marvel comic character who is a vampire hunter (he's half vampire/half human) and there was a movie trilogy in the late 90s/early 2000s starring Wesley Snipes that my brother and I were obsessed with. So it's a two-fold reference: the Gilberts are vampire hunters like Blade, and Elena and Jeremy like Blade like my brother and I.

Whedon is admittedly not my cup of tea, but Ed and Harry seem like the kind of guys who watch Firefly, considering their Buffy reference.

I actually made Sam's chocolate coconut birthday cake for my birthday this year! It came out wonderfully and got rave reviews from my friends and family. But it is now the third food/drink that I have casually made-up for a story and then felt the need to make in real life so this is becoming a concerning trend. How in the world am I gonna explain why it's called Sam's Birthday Cake to non-fandom people? They're all gonna wanna know who Sam is!

Well that's it! If all goes as planned I should see you quite soon. Thoughts? Questions? Please leave a review!

xoxo

-Pixie