MPHFPC Randomness

Supernatural and MPHFPC crossover

"Well, isn't that cute," Sam commented, smirking. "You seemed to have made a new friend."

"You tell this to anyone and I'll kill you."

Sam laughed, to which Dean gave a small smile. He stopped smiling as he noticed Jacob looking curiously up at him. "What's up?"

"So...are you gonna help me with my hollowgast?"

Dean paused. "I guess...but I think I'm gonna need some help with figuring out how to execute this." He had no clue what to do with this boy's "hollowgast" but it's worth a shot.

"This isn't exactly our area of expertise," Sam said, imitating Sherlock Holmes, "so it would be much appreciated if we had guidance."

"Knock it off, Sammy," Dean said, in a hilariously awful mock-british accent.

Millard said, "You can't exactly see the 'hollowgast,' so I'm not quite sure how this might work out."

Dean smirked. "I can't exactly see you and we seem to be understanding each other just fine."

"I know that, but the difference is that I'm a person and Jacob's hollow is a creature unknown to anyone's eyes but his. Human anatomy is familiar to us since we're human ourselves, but you fellows don't know what a hollowgast looks like, so the anatomy appears complex and foreign."

And I thought Sam was the big geek. Look at this guy. "I'm already liking this kid."

"Er...thank you?"

Sam bumped his elbow against his brother's chest. "As long as you and your buddy can help make sense of this 'hollow,' then we might be able to help."

***

"So, these attacks happened at night, it seems?" Sam asked, after Jacob explained to him his pet hollowgast. They were now in his living room. An upright piano was tucked in the corner of the living room. Dean and Sam sat at the couch while Jacob and Millard sat on the carpet. The hollowgast was lying beside Jacob, huddled under his arm and looking at the two brothers curiously. His parents, Jacob had explained, were out grocery shopping, so he was home alone.

"Yeah," Jacob said. "I can never tell if he's hungry or not because I'm usually sleeping most of the time."

Dean asked, "Does this thing even sleep at all?"

"Sometimes. But I think whenever I sleep I lose control of him, so that's probably why he's been attacking people."

"That pretty much explains everything," Sam said, as if he discovered the cure for cancer.

Jacob furrowed his brow, and for a brief moment, Sam thought he was going to cry again. "I'm sorry for having a bunch of people killed."

"I'm sure it wasn't completely your fault. You were sleeping, after all." He paused for a moment. "The question is: is there any way you can control this hollowgast while sleeping?"

"I don't think so," the boy said hesitantly.

Before either of the brothers could respond, a knock came from the front door. Millard got up to open the door, and what he saw left him in disbelief and excitement. A gray-blue haired man stood on the front porch. A red scarf, laid upon his white dressing gown, was wrapped neatly around his neck. The dressing gown was tucked under an old-fashioned black suit. The man wore a brooding expression, with intelligent eyes that stared down intently at Millard.

It was none other than Ludwig van Beethoven.

"Gutentag, young lad," he greeted, with a notable German accent.