![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dixiehellcatWorlds Collide, part 7/11
Authors: dixiehellcat and tetiny68
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby; Gen. Other SPN characters mentioned: Cas, Baltie, and one I can't tell yet cuz it's a surprise. Guest starring Zak Bagans, Nick Groff and Aaron Goodwin of Ghost Adventures.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Words: about 1200 this part; total roughly 17,000.
Summary: The GAC and the Winchesters attempt to make contact with the spirit Elizabeth.
This is a short chapter, not a lot of action (though I love where some of the characters go in this part, especially Zak) but it's setting up for some big stuff coming up. As noted before, the CW and Eric Kripke (whose first name to much of SPN fandom is still Dammit) own Sam and Dean, and the GAC own themselves. Abe Lincoln made darn sure of that.
Sam wiggled his fingers and worked his elbow till the phantom discomfort lessened. It was more than a little unsettling to feel as though one had taken a cut but see no blood or wound. The group scoured the room, but found no remains and nothing they could link by EMF signature to the ghost they had fought. "That load of salt in his ass'll keep him off ours the rest of the night," Dean said, "but without a relic that's the best we can do for right now. He'll come back till somebody makes a firm ID, finds the body and treats the bones." The uneasy looks on the Ghost Adventurers' faces made him snort. "No, nobody's expecting you guys to go dig up the historic Goldfield graveyard or whatever passes for it. Leave that to us. You can't do anybody any good in jail. Stay reputable; that's your gig."
"What about you two?" Nick asked.
"Too late," Sam replied. ""We're already disreputable. And dead, remember?"
"Yeah. Sucks we can't get rid of it now, though," Nick said. "You saw how random it was—went past four of us and attacked the fifth."
"Maybe."Sam's tone was thoughtful, and Dean eyed him with suspicion.
"You don't think so." It was a statement, not a question. "Out with it, lil brother. You think the ghost targeted Zak deliberately? Why?"
"Other than his big mouth?" Aaron suggested, earning him another of Zak's lethal glares.
"The demon that got away in the basement," Sam said. "I'm wondering if word's getting around."
"Wait a minute," Zak protested. "You think that demon's told his buddies I'm related to you, and because of that they're all gunning for me?"
"Could be," Dean agreed. "Whatever your last name is, your blood makes you a Winchester, and worse from their point of view, you're aware of it now. To demons and assorted other nasties, Winchesters spell nothin' but trouble, especially when one takes a stand against them."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
Dean hiked an eyebrow. "Get used to it?"
"Dean!" Sam scolded. "Don't panic, Zak. We're not gonna leave you hanging out to dry. We'll make sure you—all of you—know how to protect yourselves. Nick may be right; it may just be coincidence and I'm overthinking things."
Zak's initial look of alarm melted. "I don't think so. If I'm going to accept the idea that—that I was born to hunt these beings—then I guess I should accept the idea they'll fight back. They do anyway. It's really better this way, if I know it, and we're prepared."
Relieved by his calm, Sam nodded. "It never hurts to be careful. Besides, you've got these guys watching your back." He indicated Nick and Aaron, both looking concerned but determined to keep their headstrong friend out of harm's way. "And likewise, I'm sure, you've got theirs." He picked up his bag. "Where to now?"
This time when Zak spoke, nobody argued. "Now," he said, "we go free Elizabeth."
+++
After all they had gone through to get there, room 109 of the Goldfield Hotel was an initial disappointment: a small bare space, with no trace of ghostly inhabitation. Sam turned on a little electric lantern and set it down, in hopes the light might create a more welcoming atmosphere. Neither Nick's state of the art equipment nor Dean's homegrown EMF meter uttered a peep. "Could she have left?" Aaron wondered aloud. "But ghosts don't usually just pack their bags and pull up."
"No, their remains, or their target relic, normally tie them to one spot." Dean scratched his head and looked around. "Too many people, maybe? Too many strangers?"
"She's never had a problem with that before," Zak replied. "We held a live event here, and I was in this room with Mike, our intern at the time. She appeared as an orb, a little ball of light moving under conscious control."
"The dark entities could've scared her so much she's withdrawn," Sam suggested. "Try to draw her out, Zak; it sounds like you've had the closest connection with her. Dean & I can use the ritual to manifest her by force but—"
"No!" Zak cut him off. "No force. She suffered enough in life from people forcing her to do things. I'll talk to her." He turned toward the empty room, and his voice dropped; it was still clear and firm, but held none of the bluster the Winchester brothers had come to expect when their cousin confronted a spirit. "Elizabeth? It's me, Zak. You remember me, don't you? I bet you remember Nick and Aaron too. We came back to help you. The last time we were here, you seemed so frightened, I—we couldn't leave you here like that, at the mercy of those bullies. We brought more help too. These are my cousins Sam and Dean; they've been helping us get rid of the evil beings. But we can't help you if you won't talk to us. We need to see and hear you, we need you to tell us what's going on." Only silence, and the faint scratching of a desert rat in the walls, answered. "Get the box, Nick, she can use that."
"The box?" Sam asked.
"The Ovilus PX." Nick held up a hand-sized electronic device. "It gives spirit entities a vocabulary of phonemes they can combine into words." Dean had to smile to himself as Sam went into full-blown kid in candy store mode, almost squealing with amazement as he examined the gadget. Nick turned it on and set it near the radiator. "This is supposedly where she was chained up, so it's a good spot to start." Zak sat down on the floor nearby, his posture relaxed, feet flat on the floor, knees up and hands dangling between them.
"Now?" Sam said.
"Now, we wait." Zak flashed them a quick grin."Sometimes we wait quite a while. Hostile entities tend to come out to play quicker. Elizabeth, can you see this little box next to me? If you've having trouble getting in touch with us, you can use it to talk."
Several minutes passed. Sam and Dean remained standing in alert mode; Dean was never particularly trusting of ghosts, whatever their reputation. Nick took readings with various gadgets. Aaron propped his butt up against a window sill and kept filming. Zak tipped his head back, resting it against the wall, and closed his eyes. Dean couldn't decide if he was incredibly stupid or incredibly brave. "Come on, Elizabeth," Zak said, his voice soft and almost pleading. "Don't be afraid. We've sent away a lot of those beings that scared you, and we'll take care of the rest before we leave. Please, come on out so we can talk to--"
The PX's electronic burp was as loud as a shotgun in the silent room. Aaron's startled squawk almost matched it. "What'd it say?"
Zak looked down at the device's small readout. "HELP," he read, and as he picked it up it spoke again. "HIDE". His jaw dropped, and he set it back down before he dropped it in shock. "Oh, my God. The same thing she said before, the exact words. That's no coincidence. Yes, Elizabeth! We hear you. We're here to help you, you don't have to hide! Where are you?"
The next word spoken by the robotic voice was plain to every ear in the room. "HERE."
Authors: dixiehellcat and tetiny68
Pairing/Characters: Sam, Dean, Bobby; Gen. Other SPN characters mentioned: Cas, Baltie, and one I can't tell yet cuz it's a surprise. Guest starring Zak Bagans, Nick Groff and Aaron Goodwin of Ghost Adventures.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Words: about 1200 this part; total roughly 17,000.
Summary: The GAC and the Winchesters attempt to make contact with the spirit Elizabeth.
This is a short chapter, not a lot of action (though I love where some of the characters go in this part, especially Zak) but it's setting up for some big stuff coming up. As noted before, the CW and Eric Kripke (whose first name to much of SPN fandom is still Dammit) own Sam and Dean, and the GAC own themselves. Abe Lincoln made darn sure of that.
Sam wiggled his fingers and worked his elbow till the phantom discomfort lessened. It was more than a little unsettling to feel as though one had taken a cut but see no blood or wound. The group scoured the room, but found no remains and nothing they could link by EMF signature to the ghost they had fought. "That load of salt in his ass'll keep him off ours the rest of the night," Dean said, "but without a relic that's the best we can do for right now. He'll come back till somebody makes a firm ID, finds the body and treats the bones." The uneasy looks on the Ghost Adventurers' faces made him snort. "No, nobody's expecting you guys to go dig up the historic Goldfield graveyard or whatever passes for it. Leave that to us. You can't do anybody any good in jail. Stay reputable; that's your gig."
"What about you two?" Nick asked.
"Too late," Sam replied. ""We're already disreputable. And dead, remember?"
"Yeah. Sucks we can't get rid of it now, though," Nick said. "You saw how random it was—went past four of us and attacked the fifth."
"Maybe."Sam's tone was thoughtful, and Dean eyed him with suspicion.
"You don't think so." It was a statement, not a question. "Out with it, lil brother. You think the ghost targeted Zak deliberately? Why?"
"Other than his big mouth?" Aaron suggested, earning him another of Zak's lethal glares.
"The demon that got away in the basement," Sam said. "I'm wondering if word's getting around."
"Wait a minute," Zak protested. "You think that demon's told his buddies I'm related to you, and because of that they're all gunning for me?"
"Could be," Dean agreed. "Whatever your last name is, your blood makes you a Winchester, and worse from their point of view, you're aware of it now. To demons and assorted other nasties, Winchesters spell nothin' but trouble, especially when one takes a stand against them."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
Dean hiked an eyebrow. "Get used to it?"
"Dean!" Sam scolded. "Don't panic, Zak. We're not gonna leave you hanging out to dry. We'll make sure you—all of you—know how to protect yourselves. Nick may be right; it may just be coincidence and I'm overthinking things."
Zak's initial look of alarm melted. "I don't think so. If I'm going to accept the idea that—that I was born to hunt these beings—then I guess I should accept the idea they'll fight back. They do anyway. It's really better this way, if I know it, and we're prepared."
Relieved by his calm, Sam nodded. "It never hurts to be careful. Besides, you've got these guys watching your back." He indicated Nick and Aaron, both looking concerned but determined to keep their headstrong friend out of harm's way. "And likewise, I'm sure, you've got theirs." He picked up his bag. "Where to now?"
This time when Zak spoke, nobody argued. "Now," he said, "we go free Elizabeth."
+++
After all they had gone through to get there, room 109 of the Goldfield Hotel was an initial disappointment: a small bare space, with no trace of ghostly inhabitation. Sam turned on a little electric lantern and set it down, in hopes the light might create a more welcoming atmosphere. Neither Nick's state of the art equipment nor Dean's homegrown EMF meter uttered a peep. "Could she have left?" Aaron wondered aloud. "But ghosts don't usually just pack their bags and pull up."
"No, their remains, or their target relic, normally tie them to one spot." Dean scratched his head and looked around. "Too many people, maybe? Too many strangers?"
"She's never had a problem with that before," Zak replied. "We held a live event here, and I was in this room with Mike, our intern at the time. She appeared as an orb, a little ball of light moving under conscious control."
"The dark entities could've scared her so much she's withdrawn," Sam suggested. "Try to draw her out, Zak; it sounds like you've had the closest connection with her. Dean & I can use the ritual to manifest her by force but—"
"No!" Zak cut him off. "No force. She suffered enough in life from people forcing her to do things. I'll talk to her." He turned toward the empty room, and his voice dropped; it was still clear and firm, but held none of the bluster the Winchester brothers had come to expect when their cousin confronted a spirit. "Elizabeth? It's me, Zak. You remember me, don't you? I bet you remember Nick and Aaron too. We came back to help you. The last time we were here, you seemed so frightened, I—we couldn't leave you here like that, at the mercy of those bullies. We brought more help too. These are my cousins Sam and Dean; they've been helping us get rid of the evil beings. But we can't help you if you won't talk to us. We need to see and hear you, we need you to tell us what's going on." Only silence, and the faint scratching of a desert rat in the walls, answered. "Get the box, Nick, she can use that."
"The box?" Sam asked.
"The Ovilus PX." Nick held up a hand-sized electronic device. "It gives spirit entities a vocabulary of phonemes they can combine into words." Dean had to smile to himself as Sam went into full-blown kid in candy store mode, almost squealing with amazement as he examined the gadget. Nick turned it on and set it near the radiator. "This is supposedly where she was chained up, so it's a good spot to start." Zak sat down on the floor nearby, his posture relaxed, feet flat on the floor, knees up and hands dangling between them.
"Now?" Sam said.
"Now, we wait." Zak flashed them a quick grin."Sometimes we wait quite a while. Hostile entities tend to come out to play quicker. Elizabeth, can you see this little box next to me? If you've having trouble getting in touch with us, you can use it to talk."
Several minutes passed. Sam and Dean remained standing in alert mode; Dean was never particularly trusting of ghosts, whatever their reputation. Nick took readings with various gadgets. Aaron propped his butt up against a window sill and kept filming. Zak tipped his head back, resting it against the wall, and closed his eyes. Dean couldn't decide if he was incredibly stupid or incredibly brave. "Come on, Elizabeth," Zak said, his voice soft and almost pleading. "Don't be afraid. We've sent away a lot of those beings that scared you, and we'll take care of the rest before we leave. Please, come on out so we can talk to--"
The PX's electronic burp was as loud as a shotgun in the silent room. Aaron's startled squawk almost matched it. "What'd it say?"
Zak looked down at the device's small readout. "HELP," he read, and as he picked it up it spoke again. "HIDE". His jaw dropped, and he set it back down before he dropped it in shock. "Oh, my God. The same thing she said before, the exact words. That's no coincidence. Yes, Elizabeth! We hear you. We're here to help you, you don't have to hide! Where are you?"
The next word spoken by the robotic voice was plain to every ear in the room. "HERE."
