Well, we thought that this case was nothing. Turns out, Sam might be right. The next morning, as we got ready to head out of town, Sam caught something on the news. Apparently, something happened at the house. I didn't get all the information, but Sam did. We got dressed and headed back out to see what was going on.
When we pulled up, there were police all over. I looked over and saw a body bag being loaded in a van. We walked up to a man standing in front.
"What happened?" Dean asked, looking around.
"Couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself in the house," the man explained.
"Suicide?" I questioned. He nodded.
"She was a straight-A student with a full ride to U.T., too," he told us. "It just don't make sense." He walked away.
"What do you think?" Sam asked, looking at the house.
"I think maybe we missed something," Dean admitted.
"What do we do now," I questioned. We couldn't just walk in and look around again. "This place is crawling with cops."
"We come back tonight," Dean stated, walking back to the car. That was a solid plan.
But, we did what he said. Unfortunately, there were still a good amount of cops surrounding the place, even in the dark. Flashlight shined past us as we hid in the bushes.
"I guess the cops don't want anymore kids screwing around in there," Sam stated. I looked over at Dean.
"Yeah, but we still got to get in there," Dean stated.
"What's the plan now?" I questioned. Before he could answer, we heard twigs snapping a little ways away. Dean looked over.
"I don't believe it," he spoke. Sam and I followed his gaze. My eyes widened as I saw Ed and Harry, in stupid "hunting" gear. They made their way to the house.
"You have got to be kidding me," I stated, leaning my head on Sam's shoulders.
I could not deal with these guys again. Dean stood up.
"I got an idea," he stated. "Who you gonna call!" he shouted out. The police looked around, and spotted Ed and Harry. Because they couldn't see us, they ran towards the two. Once they were far enough away, we made a sprint to the house and inside.
"Nice job," I told him.
Once we were inside, Sam pulled out two guns from the bag he brought, handing one to Dean. I held the flashlight, shining it around the room.
I shined light on the symbol above the fireplace.
"Where have I seen that symbol before?" Dean questioned. "It's killing me."
I pushed him forward. "We don't have time for that," I told him.
Sam walked ahead of us. We made our way to the basement, walking down the old wood stairs. We hadn't checked this area, because we had been interrupted by the ghost hunters.
I cast the light across the small room, stopping when I saw a shelf. There were a few jars full of... well, I didn't want to know. Dean followed me and picked up a jar with some red liquid.
"Dean, don't touch it," I scolded. He looked it over.
"Hey, Sam, I dare you to take a swig of this," he stated. I rolled my eyes.
"The hell would I do that for?" Sam questioned. I looked over at him and shrugged. This was not getting us any information.
"I double dare you," Dean told him. I grabbed the jar from him and put it back. Before I could say a word, a scrapping sound came from behind me. I jumped and Dean pulled me back so I was behind him.
We made our way around a corner, to a dresser. Both boys had their guns drawn. Sam walked up, and when Dean gave the okay, he opened the door. Sam jumped as a few rats ran out.
"Ugh, I hate rats," Dean muttered, stepping back as the creatures ran past us. I giggled, but luckily Dean didn't catch it.
"You'd rather it be a ghost," I asked, smirking.
"Yes," He admitted, still looking at the ground. I smiled at the two.
Then, I heard a low growling sound. I slowly turned around to see a dark figure holding up an ax.
"Ahhh!" I screamed, catching the attention of my brothers.
"Cheyenne, get down!" Sam yelled. I fell onto my hands and knees, as rock salt flew above me. Dean reached down, grabbing my arms and pulling me to my feet.
"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" He questioned. I looked and saw the thing was gone... for now.
"I don't know," Dean looked around. "Come on, come one!" he pushed me ahead of him, towards the stairs.
The thing came back, swinging his ax into one of the shelves and knocking me to the ground. I covered my face, blocking the glass jars from slicing me. I looked up to see the man attacking Sam. This was no normal spirit, that's for sure. I moved back to the wall, knowing my brothers wouldn't want me to get involved when I didn't have a weapon. Dean shot the man again, and he disappeared.
"You okay?" Sam asked, helping me up. "Let's go, now."
We ran up the stairs and as fast as we could. We burst through the front door, not caring if the cops were back or not. Instead of police, we ran straight into Ed and Harry, again. They held the cameras up and watched us in shock. Dean pulled me along and we ran past them. We got in the car and away from the house as fast as possible.
Once I was in the car, I looked down at my arms. I had a few cuts from the glass, but nothing too bad. Dean pulled onto the main road and found a motel for us to crash at.
Dean sat on the bed, drawing something on a pad. Sam was researching on his computer. I sat on the other bed, using some cream to treat my small cuts. I winched every few minutes.
"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked again. I finished the last one, sticking a band-aid on top.
"Yeah, just some little cuts and scraps," I stated. I stood and walked over to his bed. "Nothing I can't handle." He patted my leg. I looked down at the pad and saw the symbol from the house.
"You really think you've seen that?" I questioned.
"Yeah... and it's bugging the hell out of me." he stated. "This whole damn job's bugging me." He looked over at Sam. "I thought the legend said that Mordechai only goes after chicks," he questioned. "It made sense for it to go after Cheyenne and you, but why me?"
"Hilarious," Sam joked. "Legend also says he hung himself, but you see those slit wrists?"
"Yeah, what's up with that?" I questioned. "And the ax too, I mean, that wasn't in the legend."
"Ghosts are usually pretty strict, right, following the same patterns over and over," he looked back at his computer.
"His mood keeps changing," Dean stated.
"Exactly," Sam agreed. "I'm telling you, the way the story goes... wait a minute."
I stood from the bed and walked over to him, leaning a hand on his shoulder.
"What?" I asked.
"Someone added a new posting to the hellhound site," he clicked on a post. "Listen to this... "They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a satantist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists... now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity",".
"Where the hell is this going," I questioned.
"I don't know, but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean spoke up. We turned to look at him. He jumped off the bed, and headed out the door. I looked over at Sam.
"I guess that means we're going somewhere?" I questioned, heading for the door as well.
Dean explained that Craig, from the music store, had something to do with this. So, off we went to talk tot him again. I still didn't have a solid idea of why. It had something to do with the symbol though.
We walked in and Craig had his back to us.
"Hey, Craig?" Dean called out. "Remember us?"
Craig turned around. "Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer anymore questions."
"Don't worry," Dean told him. "We're just here to buy an album, that's all." He reached and flicked through some records, pulling one out. He turned to Sam and I. "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then I realized it could mean anything." We walked up to Craig. "It's a logo for Blue Oyster Cult." Craig still had his back to us, and scratched his head nervously. "Tell me, Craig, you into B.O.C. or just scaring the hell out of people?"
Dean handed the boy the record he picked up. Craig flipped it over to the back, I glanced down. The symbol on the record was the same as the one at the house.
"Why don't you tell us about that house... without lying through your ass this time." Craig looked at us, and realized we weren't leaving without an answer.
He sighed. "All right," he stated. "My cousin Dana was on break from TCU." He began to explain it to us. "I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do, so I showed her this abandoned dump I found," he continued. "We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted...so we painted symbols on the walls, some from albums, some from Dana's theology textbooks." I looked over at Dean, confused. He continued. "Then we found out that this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we... we made up some story to go along with that... so they told people who told other people." He looked down. "And then these two guys put it on their stupid website." Ed and Harry, of course. "Everything just took on a life of it's own...I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but... now that girl's dead." I could tell he felt bad, I mean, he was an idiot, but... he learned his lesson. "It was just a joke, you know?" He told us. "None of it was real... we made the whole thing up."
"All right," Sam stated. We turned and walked away from the boy.
"If none of it was real, how do you explain Mordechai?" I questioned. I didn't get an answer straight away.
We headed back to the motel. Sam decided to take a shower after he and I did some more research on Mordechai. Dean stepped out for a little bit, while Sam was in there. When he came back, I noticed he had something in his hand.
"What are you doing?" I questioned. I had a bad feeling this was another prank. He pulled out a pouch that said "Itching Powder" and my eyes went wide.
"Hey, I'm back," Dean shouted, so Sam could hear him. The water shut off and Dean went to work. He tore the package open.
"Hey, where were you?" Sam called. "Cheyenne said you left."
"Oh, I went out," Dean replied. He grabbed Sam's clean clothes, dumping a good amount of the powder in them. He looked at me. "Don't say a word," he mouthed. I smiled and put my hands up in defense.
"So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on," Sam continued. Dean made sure every inch of the clothing was dusted with the stuff. Sam was going to be so mad.
"Yeah?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," Sam went on. "What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?"
"A tupla," I questioned, watching Dean. The bathroom door opened, and Dean quickly hid the package behind his back.
"Yeah, a Tibetan thought form," Sam said as he walked out. He only wore a towel.
"I know what a Tulpa is," Dean stated. "Why don't you get dressed?" he gestured to the pile of clothes. "We'll go grab something to eat." He went into the bathroom.
"Is he okay?" Sam questioned, grabbing his clothes.
"I don't know, he's Dean," I stated. "I'm gonna head to the car so you can get dressed."
The boys met me outside and we headed to the diner for some grub. As we stood in line, Sam moved uncomfortably. He scratched all over his body, not locating the problem.
"Dud, what's your problem?" Dean questioned, even though he knew exactly what was going on. He grabbed our drinks, bringing them to a table.
Sam ignored him. "Okay, so, there was this incident in Tibet in 1915," He began to explain. "A group of monks visualize a golem in their heads... they meditate on it so hard, they bring the thing to life out of thin air."
"So?" Dean questioned. I rolled my eyes.
"That was 20 monks," Sam told him. "Imagine what 10,000 web servers could do."
I nodded. "Craig started the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online," I added.
"Exactly," Sam stated. "Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."
"Okay, wait a second," Dean muttered. "You're trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"
I watched as Sam scratched his side again, trying to hide his discomfort. "I don't know... maybe."
"People believe in Santa Clause," Dean argued. "How come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"
"Because you're a bad person," I teased. He flicked me in the head. "Ow."
Sam smirked. "And because of this," he turned the laptop towards us. It was a picture of a symbol from the house. "There's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house." He explained to us. "Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook." He stated. "I bet you they painted this, not even knowing what it was."
"Okay, so what's it have to do with Mordechai?" I questioned.
"That sigil has been used for centuries," Sam told us. "Concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass."
"So, people are on the hellhounds website, staring at this sigil while thinking about Mordechai?" I asked, trying to link things together. "And that's making him real?"
"I don't know," Sam stated. "But it might be enough to bring a tulpa to life."
"It would explain why it keeps changing," Dean agreed. We watched Sam itch again. I had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing.
"Right... as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes, like a game of telephone."
"That might also explain why the rock salt didn't work," I suggested, remembering the other night.
"Yeah, cause he's not a traditional spirit per se," Dean agreed. "Okay, so why don't we just get this spirit-sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?"
"It's not that simple," Sam stated. "You see, once Tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own."
"That's just great," I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.
"All right, so if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?" Dean questioned.
"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us," Sam stated. I knew right away he meant Ed and Harry. "Check out their home page."
He pulled up the website. It looked insane, with videos and pictures of the two going on "hunts". Including the one where we ran out of the house and Mordechai appeared.
"Since they posted the video, the number of hits has quadrupled in the last day alone."
I groaned, placing my forehead on the table. "What idiots," I commented. Dean patted my back.
"I got an idea," Dean stated. "Come on." He pulled on my arm to make me stand up.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Gonna find a copy store," he stated. Sam stood and started packing his things.
"Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something," Sam groaned, itching his chest.
Dean started laughing. I lost it, bending over giggling. Sam looked over at us.
"You did this?" Sam questioned.
"No, not me," I pointed at Dean. "I just watched."
Dean threw an arm over my shoulder, leading me out of the diner.
"You're a freaking jerk," I heard Sam call.
"You know he's gonna get you back," I told Dean. He shrugged.