![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dixiehellcatWorlds Collide, part 6/11
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 1400 this part; total roughly 17,000.
Summary: More ghost hunting, and the two groups grow closer.
After that, the Winchester brothers pretty much stood back and watched, stepping in to help with bits of Latin and drawing of sigils. Dean had to admire the smoothness with which the Ghost Adventurers worked together. It was a lot like watching a really good rock band: Zak, the intense and charismatic front man; Nick, the quiet virtuoso lead guitarist; Aaron, the drummer who held a steady beat and kept everybody grounded despite being slightly deranged himself.
As the embers of the small fire sputtered out and the last wisps of smoke were waved out the window, the three men gathered around Sam's bowl looked at each other. "You guys feel that?" Zak almost whispered.
Nick nodded. "Even the air feels different."
"We did it." A huge grin spread across Aaron's face. "Fuck, dudes, we did it!"
"Great, kid," Dean said. "Don't get cocky."
"Thanks a bunch, Han Solo," Nick fired back.
Dean stopped cold, caught by the distinctive call of a fellow movie buff. "You got that line!"
"Being TV ghost seekers isn't all that glamorous," Zak admitted. "We spend a lot of time hanging out in hotels watching cable. All of us can probably quote parts of movies verbatim."
"Now that really sounds familiar," Sam agreed.
"Except at least TV ghostbusters get expense accounts," Dean mourned. "Hunters don't."
"Which sucks." Aaron boomed. "The unfairness of the cosmos. You dudes should be getting the big bucks. You rock!" He smacked Dean on the back, and nearly knocked him on his face.
Sam finished gathering his gear. "Okay, where to next?"
"The Stabber!" Zak declared. His voice held fervent certainty, his eyes an almost feverish glitter.
Unfortunately for him, his colleagues did not appear to share his fervor in this instance. Their triumphant grins faded. "Bro, I'm not sure we're ready for a solo flight against that SOB," Aaron said.
"Why not?" Zak demanded. "We're learning these skills for a purpose, right? So we can take out these bullies of the spirit world!"
"Assuming they don't take you out first," Dean warned. "What exactly is a Stabber?"
"An entity in the Gold Room, the old main dining hall," Nick explained. "It randomly attacks people—they report sharp pain, like they've been struck by an invisible knife blade."
Dean shook his head. "Aaron's right then. I'm not gonna be responsible for a batch of rookies going after something that violent and unhinged."
Zak opened his mouth and Sam braced himself. Not again! They're worse than Dean and me. Maybe because they're both so hard-headed. But instead of starting another argument, Zak closed his mouth and gave Dean a searching look. "Cuz," he said mildly, "the last time I looked, we were all grownups. Where'd you get the idea that what we do is your responsibility?"
Dean was caught flat-footed, trying to come up with an answer, and couldn't, because the fact was, the guy was right. "I dunno," he mumbled finally. "But if you hotshots learn anything at all from us tonight, it needs to be judgment and timing. A lot of hunters die young because they knew all the Latin and all the runes and glyphs, but they never learned that simple lesson. You've gotta be able to judge when to go in, when to stay out, and when to call backup."
"Dean's not saying we aren't going to get rid of this ghost, Zak," Sam put in. "If it's as wild as Nick says though, it's going to take all of us. How'd you like to do the ritual you guys just did, while simultaneously fending off an invisible Norman Bates?"
Zak nodded in reluctant agreement. "I got carried away, I know. But this is such a fuckin' rush, being able to finally hit back at these evil, hurtful things."
"Abso-fuckin-lutely," Aaron agreed heartily. "But Dean's right, man. We've gotta keep our
eyes open, know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em."
"Exactly." Sam shouldered his duffel. "Now let's go kick this stabbity guy's ass."
The group moved out, Aaron humming 'The Gambler' under his breath off key. "You know something?" Zak said to Sam. "Your big bro's got a bad case of big bro syndrome."
"I heard that!" Dean yelled from the hallway.
Zak winced, and Sam chuckled, "Man, anybody ever tell you you have no inside voice?"
+++
The Gold Room still held traces of its former grandeur, from shreds of heavy draperies dangling from the windows to scraps of flocked wallpaper that still clung to the walls. Of a demented spirit, however, there was no sign. The group switched off lights and switched on devices, scanning the large space for any indicators of paranormal activity. Aaron had even prevailed on Dean to pull out his home-grown EMF meter, and the admiration lavished on it by all three Ghost Adventurers had considerably salved Dean's slightly bruised ego.
Right now, though, nobody's devices were picking up anything. "Come on out, you crazy bastard!" Zak called. "What's your problem? You scared of us? There's too many of us, and we know your game. You'd rather sneak up on people unaware, wouldn't you, you damned coward!"
In the faint moonlight that filtered in through the high windows, Sam could almost see Dean roll his eyes. "Lighten up, man. If the asshole won't come out, me and Sammy'll drag his ass out."
"You can do that?" Nick asked.
"Yeah," Sam replied. "There's a ritual for manifesting a spirit."
"Damn, there's a ritual for everything," Aaron marveled. "Kinda like a supernatural app store."
Sam chuckled—and the next breath he drew seared his lungs with a sudden icy chill. "Whoa!" he coughed. "Guys, do you feel—"
"Cold!" Nick's breath was actually visible. "I've got him on the full spec—heads up Zak, he's headed your way."
Sam could half-see the ghost now, a wave of disturbance in the still and dusty air, brushing past and aiming directly for Zak. Two long strides brought him to his cousin's side. Zak ducked and twisted aside, and Sam blocked the murderous spirit, drawing a blessed iron knife from its sheath on his hip and parrying with it. Knife fighting with a ghost, how is it I've never gotten around to doing that before— Cold slipped past him and turned to heat, a line of pain blazing up his forearm. Sam yelped and the knife fell from his hand.
"Yaaaahhh!!" Aaron barreled into the melee, knocking Sam back onto his rear. His camera was still held firmly in one hand, but the other clutched the iron rod he'd carried with him the whole night, and using the night vision viewfinder as a guide he skewered the mad ghost squarely through its middle. The brute force of the iron disrupted it briefly; Zak snatched Sam's knife from the floor, crouched and launched himself upward, slashing the air at the same area, and managed to dissipate the attacker altogether for a moment.
That gave Dean all the time he needed. He whipped his sawed-off from beneath his jacket, where he'd concealed it while getting his EMF from the base room, and looked over Nick's shoulder to get a fix through the viewscreen of the full spec. As he watched, the ghost re-formed, a clear outline of a man with arm uplifted and weapon in hand. "Back off guys, I got him!"
Zak grabbed Aaron and pulled him back, and the roar of the shotgun deafened everyone.
When the smoke cleared, a very small voice came from Nick. "Dude…you never mentioned firepower."
"You never asked, dude," Dean returned with a satisfied smirk. "Everybody good over there?"
"Ow," Aaron complained. "I think I got buckshot in my eye."
Zak scooped small crystals off his clothing, inspected them, and stuck one in his mouth. "It's rock salt, you big weenie. You all right, Sam?"
"It got my arm." Sam rolled his sleeve up. Zak flicked on his flashlight and checked it as the others gathered.
"The usual thing with the Stabber," he pronounced. "No visible damage, but it'll hurt like hell for a while. Thanks for having my back."
"You too. Good moves. And thank you, Aaron. Nice work with the rod."
Aaron flashed a toothy grin. "Hunters gotta stick together." He busied himself checking on his camera rig, while Sam and Dean looked at each other and wondered when their companions had crossed that line and begun to think of themselves as not just investigators, but hunters.
Not sure there's much non-SPN fans need in this part...Dean does tend to get overprotective, and feel responsible for stuff. Partly I think it's because his dad made him responsible for taking care of little Sammy at a very young age, while John was out hunting monsters and such.
The movie line exchange was inspired by one of Aaron's vlogs where he & Nick were hanging around a hotel watching the Weather Channel and bored out of their gourds. hehe.
And Sam's line about Zak having no inside voice came almost verbatim from the TV Tropes web site. :-D
Comments, as always, are prized and coveted.
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 1400 this part; total roughly 17,000.
Summary: More ghost hunting, and the two groups grow closer.
After that, the Winchester brothers pretty much stood back and watched, stepping in to help with bits of Latin and drawing of sigils. Dean had to admire the smoothness with which the Ghost Adventurers worked together. It was a lot like watching a really good rock band: Zak, the intense and charismatic front man; Nick, the quiet virtuoso lead guitarist; Aaron, the drummer who held a steady beat and kept everybody grounded despite being slightly deranged himself.
As the embers of the small fire sputtered out and the last wisps of smoke were waved out the window, the three men gathered around Sam's bowl looked at each other. "You guys feel that?" Zak almost whispered.
Nick nodded. "Even the air feels different."
"We did it." A huge grin spread across Aaron's face. "Fuck, dudes, we did it!"
"Great, kid," Dean said. "Don't get cocky."
"Thanks a bunch, Han Solo," Nick fired back.
Dean stopped cold, caught by the distinctive call of a fellow movie buff. "You got that line!"
"Being TV ghost seekers isn't all that glamorous," Zak admitted. "We spend a lot of time hanging out in hotels watching cable. All of us can probably quote parts of movies verbatim."
"Now that really sounds familiar," Sam agreed.
"Except at least TV ghostbusters get expense accounts," Dean mourned. "Hunters don't."
"Which sucks." Aaron boomed. "The unfairness of the cosmos. You dudes should be getting the big bucks. You rock!" He smacked Dean on the back, and nearly knocked him on his face.
Sam finished gathering his gear. "Okay, where to next?"
"The Stabber!" Zak declared. His voice held fervent certainty, his eyes an almost feverish glitter.
Unfortunately for him, his colleagues did not appear to share his fervor in this instance. Their triumphant grins faded. "Bro, I'm not sure we're ready for a solo flight against that SOB," Aaron said.
"Why not?" Zak demanded. "We're learning these skills for a purpose, right? So we can take out these bullies of the spirit world!"
"Assuming they don't take you out first," Dean warned. "What exactly is a Stabber?"
"An entity in the Gold Room, the old main dining hall," Nick explained. "It randomly attacks people—they report sharp pain, like they've been struck by an invisible knife blade."
Dean shook his head. "Aaron's right then. I'm not gonna be responsible for a batch of rookies going after something that violent and unhinged."
Zak opened his mouth and Sam braced himself. Not again! They're worse than Dean and me. Maybe because they're both so hard-headed. But instead of starting another argument, Zak closed his mouth and gave Dean a searching look. "Cuz," he said mildly, "the last time I looked, we were all grownups. Where'd you get the idea that what we do is your responsibility?"
Dean was caught flat-footed, trying to come up with an answer, and couldn't, because the fact was, the guy was right. "I dunno," he mumbled finally. "But if you hotshots learn anything at all from us tonight, it needs to be judgment and timing. A lot of hunters die young because they knew all the Latin and all the runes and glyphs, but they never learned that simple lesson. You've gotta be able to judge when to go in, when to stay out, and when to call backup."
"Dean's not saying we aren't going to get rid of this ghost, Zak," Sam put in. "If it's as wild as Nick says though, it's going to take all of us. How'd you like to do the ritual you guys just did, while simultaneously fending off an invisible Norman Bates?"
Zak nodded in reluctant agreement. "I got carried away, I know. But this is such a fuckin' rush, being able to finally hit back at these evil, hurtful things."
"Abso-fuckin-lutely," Aaron agreed heartily. "But Dean's right, man. We've gotta keep our
eyes open, know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em."
"Exactly." Sam shouldered his duffel. "Now let's go kick this stabbity guy's ass."
The group moved out, Aaron humming 'The Gambler' under his breath off key. "You know something?" Zak said to Sam. "Your big bro's got a bad case of big bro syndrome."
"I heard that!" Dean yelled from the hallway.
Zak winced, and Sam chuckled, "Man, anybody ever tell you you have no inside voice?"
+++
The Gold Room still held traces of its former grandeur, from shreds of heavy draperies dangling from the windows to scraps of flocked wallpaper that still clung to the walls. Of a demented spirit, however, there was no sign. The group switched off lights and switched on devices, scanning the large space for any indicators of paranormal activity. Aaron had even prevailed on Dean to pull out his home-grown EMF meter, and the admiration lavished on it by all three Ghost Adventurers had considerably salved Dean's slightly bruised ego.
Right now, though, nobody's devices were picking up anything. "Come on out, you crazy bastard!" Zak called. "What's your problem? You scared of us? There's too many of us, and we know your game. You'd rather sneak up on people unaware, wouldn't you, you damned coward!"
In the faint moonlight that filtered in through the high windows, Sam could almost see Dean roll his eyes. "Lighten up, man. If the asshole won't come out, me and Sammy'll drag his ass out."
"You can do that?" Nick asked.
"Yeah," Sam replied. "There's a ritual for manifesting a spirit."
"Damn, there's a ritual for everything," Aaron marveled. "Kinda like a supernatural app store."
Sam chuckled—and the next breath he drew seared his lungs with a sudden icy chill. "Whoa!" he coughed. "Guys, do you feel—"
"Cold!" Nick's breath was actually visible. "I've got him on the full spec—heads up Zak, he's headed your way."
Sam could half-see the ghost now, a wave of disturbance in the still and dusty air, brushing past and aiming directly for Zak. Two long strides brought him to his cousin's side. Zak ducked and twisted aside, and Sam blocked the murderous spirit, drawing a blessed iron knife from its sheath on his hip and parrying with it. Knife fighting with a ghost, how is it I've never gotten around to doing that before— Cold slipped past him and turned to heat, a line of pain blazing up his forearm. Sam yelped and the knife fell from his hand.
"Yaaaahhh!!" Aaron barreled into the melee, knocking Sam back onto his rear. His camera was still held firmly in one hand, but the other clutched the iron rod he'd carried with him the whole night, and using the night vision viewfinder as a guide he skewered the mad ghost squarely through its middle. The brute force of the iron disrupted it briefly; Zak snatched Sam's knife from the floor, crouched and launched himself upward, slashing the air at the same area, and managed to dissipate the attacker altogether for a moment.
That gave Dean all the time he needed. He whipped his sawed-off from beneath his jacket, where he'd concealed it while getting his EMF from the base room, and looked over Nick's shoulder to get a fix through the viewscreen of the full spec. As he watched, the ghost re-formed, a clear outline of a man with arm uplifted and weapon in hand. "Back off guys, I got him!"
Zak grabbed Aaron and pulled him back, and the roar of the shotgun deafened everyone.
When the smoke cleared, a very small voice came from Nick. "Dude…you never mentioned firepower."
"You never asked, dude," Dean returned with a satisfied smirk. "Everybody good over there?"
"Ow," Aaron complained. "I think I got buckshot in my eye."
Zak scooped small crystals off his clothing, inspected them, and stuck one in his mouth. "It's rock salt, you big weenie. You all right, Sam?"
"It got my arm." Sam rolled his sleeve up. Zak flicked on his flashlight and checked it as the others gathered.
"The usual thing with the Stabber," he pronounced. "No visible damage, but it'll hurt like hell for a while. Thanks for having my back."
"You too. Good moves. And thank you, Aaron. Nice work with the rod."
Aaron flashed a toothy grin. "Hunters gotta stick together." He busied himself checking on his camera rig, while Sam and Dean looked at each other and wondered when their companions had crossed that line and begun to think of themselves as not just investigators, but hunters.
Not sure there's much non-SPN fans need in this part...Dean does tend to get overprotective, and feel responsible for stuff. Partly I think it's because his dad made him responsible for taking care of little Sammy at a very young age, while John was out hunting monsters and such.
The movie line exchange was inspired by one of Aaron's vlogs where he & Nick were hanging around a hotel watching the Weather Channel and bored out of their gourds. hehe.
And Sam's line about Zak having no inside voice came almost verbatim from the TV Tropes web site. :-D
Comments, as always, are prized and coveted.
