The Impala cruised past a sign that read Big Texas Towing and Salvage Yard.
Dean was driving. He looked over and saw Sam sleeping with his mouth open. He felt around, then gently placed a plastic spoon in Sam's mouth. He grinned as he flipped open his phone and took a photo, then he turned music up loud.
Dean sang loudly, "Fire... of unknown origin... took my baby away!"
Sam jerked up, realized something was in his mouth, panicked, and waved his arms as he spit it out. Dean air drummed to the song on his steering wheel. Phoebe drummed to it on her legs, laughing, and grinned as Sam wiped his mouth and turned down the music.
"Haha, very funny," Sam said.
"Heh, heh, heh," Dean chuckled. "Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own."
"Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean. We're not going to start that crap up again."
"Start what up?"
"Whatever. That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates."
"What's the matter, Sammy, scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"
Sam frowned. "All right, just remember, you started it."
"Ah ha, bring it on, baldy."
"Where are we anyway?"
"A few hours outside of Richardson. Give me the low down again."
Sam read. "All right, about a month or two ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house."
"Haunted by what?"
"Apparently, a misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. We'll keep your daughter safe. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar."
"Anybody ID the corpse?"
"Well, that's the thing. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains."
"Maybe the cops are right?"
"Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids first hand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere."
"Where did you read these accounts?"
Sam, a little embarrassed, said, "Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So last night, I surfed some local paranormal websites. And I found one."
"And what's it called?"
"Hellhoundslair.com."
"Let me guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement."
Sam grinned. "Yeah, probably."
"Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter."
Phoebe tried to repeat the word. "Peskeeter. That's a funny word, Daddy."
Dean smiled. "Yeah, I suppose it is."
"Look," Sam said. "We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don't know where the hell he is and in the meantime, we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm in checking this out."
"All right. So where do we find these kids?"
"Same place you always find kids in a town like this."
---
The Impala pulled up to the fast food outlet.
---
The brothers started interviewing the kids while Phoebe ate.
Guy one, at the outside table, said, "It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life, I swear to God."
Guy two, through the serving hatch, told them, "From the moment we walked in, the walls were painted black."
"Red."
"I think it was blood," the girl at the inside table guessed.
"All these freaky symbols."
"Crosses and stars and..." guy one trailed.
"Pentagons."
"Pentecostals."
"Whatever, I had my eyes closed the whole time," the girl said.
"But I can damn sure tell you this much. No matter what anyone says..."
"That poor girl."
"With the black..." guy two began.
"Blonde..." guy one said.
"Red hair, just sitting there," the girl replied.
"Kicking!"
"Without even moving!" guy two cried.
"She was real," the girl told them.
"One hundred percent," guy one confirmed.
"And kind hot," guy two admitted. "Well, you know, in a dead sort of way."
Dean looked at Sam with eyes raised. "Okay!"
"And... how'd you find out about this place anyway?" Sam asked.
All three teens, who were sitting together, said, "Craig took us."
---
The three entered a music shop.
Craig, behind the counter, asked, "Fellas. Can I help you with anything?"
"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam questioned.
"I am."
"Well, we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and this is Phoebe. Couldn't get a sitter," Dean said.
"No way. Well, I'm a writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine."
"Well, good for you, Morrisey."
"Umm. We're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one," Sam explained.
"You mean the Hell House?" Craig asked.
"That's the house," Phoebe confirmed. "I don't wike the name."
"I didn't think there was anything to the story."
"Why don't you tell us the story," Sam said.
Craig began the story. "Well, supposedly back in the 30s, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. 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."
"How?"
"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop, but he just stung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished, he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."
"Where'd you hear all this?" Dean questioned, pulling a terrified looking Phoebe closer.
"My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."
"But now you do," Sam said.
"I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I told you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?"
"Thanks," Dean replied. "Phoebe, I promise you'll be okay."
She nodded. "Okay, Daddy? Pinky pomise?" She held up her pinky.
Dean linked his with hers. "I pinky promise."
---
The brothers made their way to the Hell House and slushed up the muddy path to the house. Phoebe was staying in the car.
"I can't say I blame the kid," Sam commented.
"Yeah, so much for curb appeal," Dean agreed.
They looked around and Sam soon returned to his brother who was holding an EMF.
"You got something?" Sam asked.
Dean tapped the EMF. "Ye-ah. The EMFs no good."
"Why?"
He shook hus EMF before gesturing to the overhead power lines. "I think those things still have a little juice in it; they're screwing with all the readings."
"Yeah, that'd do it."
"Yeah. Come on, let's go."
They headed inside and started looking around.
Dean whistled. "Looks like old man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger in his time."
"And after his time too," Sam noted. "That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the 60s."
Dean stared at Sam. "That is exactly why you never get laid." He moved to the other wall. "Hey, what about this one, you seen this one before?"
It was a cross with a dot in the middle. The bottom stroke looked like an upside-down question mark.
"No."
"I have. Somewhere."
Sam rubbed the symbol. "It's paint. Seems pretty fresh, too."
Dean frowned. "I don't know, Sam. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind... but the cops may be right about this one."
"Yeah, maybe."
A sudden noise caused them to be on high alert. They took up positions on either side of a door. Dean nodded and they busted through. Bright lights shone in their eyes.
"Oh, cut," guy one said. "It's just a few humans."
One guy held a small electrical gadget and the other a camera which he switched off.
"What are you guys doing here?" guy one asked.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demanded.
"Ah-ha-ha. We belong here, we're professionals?"
"Professional what?"
"Paranormal Investigators." He handed them business cards. "There you go, take a look at that, boys."
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."
Sam looked at the card. "Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler? Hellhoundslair.com, you guys run that website?"
"Yeah," Ed confirmed, frowning at Dean.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically.
"And ahh, we know who you guys are, too."
The brothers looked at him sharply.
"Oh yeah?" Sam questioned.
"Amateurs." Dean lost interest. "Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."
"Yep," Harry confirmed. "So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."
"Yeah, what have you got so far?" Dean wondered in a bored tone.
"Harry, why doncha tell 'em about EMF?" Ed said.
"Well..." Harry began.
Sam played dumb and tried not to smile. "EMF?"
"Electromagnetic field? Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here." He turned it on and Dean smirked at Sam. "Whoa. Whoa. It's 2.8mg."
"2.8," Ed repeated. "It's hot in here."
Dean whistled in admiration and Sam commented, "Wow."
"Huh," Dean noted. "So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or..."
"Once," Ed replied. "We were, uh... we were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table..."
"By itself," Harry added.
"Well, we didn't actually see it, we heard it. And something like that... it uh... it changes you."
"Yeah. I think I get the picture," Dean said. "We should go, let them get back to work."
"Yeah, you should."
As the two left, Ed said, "Yeah, work." He looked to Harry. "I'm sorry. That pot we smoked gave me the giggles."
---
The three made their way to the library and Sam went inside while Dean waited.
Eventually, Sam exited and came down the stairs as Dean approached.
"Hey," Sam greeted.
"Hey," Dean replied. "What you got?"
"Well, I couldn't find a Mordechai, but I did find a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the 30s. He did have children, but only two of them, both boys, and there's no evidence he ever killed anyone."
"Huh."
"What about you?"
They reached the Impala and stood talking over the top of it.
"Well, those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station. No matching persons, it's like she never existed. Dude, come on, we did our digging, this one's a bust all right. For all we know, those Hell Hound boys made up the whole thing."
"Yeah, all right."
"I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers, and leave the legend to the locals."
Dean got into the car. Sam leaned down, smiling, to look in the window.
Dean turned the key in the ignition. South American music blasted through the speakers, the wipers turned on, and Dean reared back. "Whoa! What the..." He quickly reached to turn everything off.
"Owie!" Phoebe yelled.
Sam got in, laughing got in moments later. Sam licked his finger and marked an imaginary '1' in the air, then pointed to himself.
Dean gave him a dirty look. "That's all you got? Sweet. That is bush league. Don't hurt my little girl."
The Impala pulled away.
---
Later, the brothers approached the house and saw emergency vehicles and emergency personnel. A girl's body was brought on a stretcher.
"What happened?" Dean asked.
"A coupla cops say a girl hung herself in the house," a man said.
"Suicide?" Sam questioned.
"Yeah. She was a straight A student, with a full ride to UT too. It just don't make sense." He walked away.
Sam looked at his brother. "What do you think?"
"I think maybe we missed something," Dean replied.
---
That night, they made their way back to the house.
A police car was parked outside, two cops stood around. Sam and Dean crouched in the bushes.
"I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there," Sam said.
"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," Dean told them, hearing whispers and peeked from their hiding place. "I don't believe it."
Sam spun to look. Ed and Harry were approaching: hunched over, wearing all sorts of gadgets, whispering and shh-ing each other.
"I got an idea," Dean stated.
He rose slightly, turned towards the cops, and cupped a hand to his mouth. "Who you gonna call!"
"Wha... huh?" Ed and Harry asked.
"Hey, you!" a cop called as muddled voices mixed together. "Freeze."
"Run! Come on!"
"Get back here. Hey!"
The cops chased Ed and Harry back down the path. Sam and Dean laughed as they made a break for the house. Once inside, Sam broke out the rifles and handed one to Dean.
Dean turned on a flashlight. "Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!"
The two of them made their way down to the basement and looked around. Dean spied the jars and picked one up for a closer look. The pale, red liquid sloshed around inside.
"Hey, Sam," Dean called. "I dare you to take a swig of this."
"What the hell would I do that for?" Sam asked.
"...I double dare you."
Sam shook his head, looking away. Dean grinned. A noise had them each on alert and they moved towards the cabinet. At Dean's nod, Sam opened the door. Rats squeaked and ran from the flashlight.
Dean lifted his feet. "Arghh! I hate rats."
"You would rather it was a ghost?" Sam asked.
"Yes."
Dean turned to see Mordechai behind Sam, raising his ax above his head, directly in line with Sam's. Sam turned and shot Mordechai twice, but he was still there. Dean shot him again and he misted away.
"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam wondered.
"I dunno," Dean replied. "Come on. Come on, come on!"
As they ran towards the stairs, Mordechai smashed his ax down, catching the shelves and bringing the jars crashing down on Dean. Mordechai and Sam began fighting.
"Go! Get outta here!" Sam yelled.
Mordechai smashed the electrical box and sparks flew everywhere.
Sam and Dean bolted for the door.
Ed and Harry crept back towards the house.
Harry raised his night vision goggles. "Maybe we should just get out of here."
"No," Ed said. "Would John Edward go? We've lost the cops, let's find our center and get some work done. Okay? All right?"
As Ed and Harry approached the porch, camera raised, the brothers busted out. They fell through the emergency tape and rolled down the steps, springing to their feet and kept running.
"Get that damn thing outta my face," Dean ordered.
"Go, go, go!" Sam cried.
Ed and Harry were still facing the door and saw Mordechai lurking.
"Sweet Lord..." Ed began.
"...of the rings," Harry finished. "Run! Go, go, go!"
They turned to flee, and ran straight into the arms of the cops.
"Look, there's a... look," Harry told the cops. "There's a man over there... I saw... where'd he go?"
The cops grabbed their collars and once said, "Boys, come on."
---
The three were back in their motel room. Dean was sitting on the bed, drawing the symbol, Phoebe sat next to him, and Sam was researching.
"What the hell is this symbol?" Dean wondered. "It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."
"It does," Sam said.
"All right. Well, that explains why he went after you, but why me?"
"Hilarious! The legend also says he hung himself, but did you see those slit wrists?"
"Yeah."
"What's up with that? And the axe too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over again?"
"But this mook keeps changing."
Sam typed away on his laptop. "Exactly. I'm telling ya, the way the story goes... wait a minute."
"What?"
"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."
Phoebe pointed to the symbol. "Daddy, that's a band you play."
Dean stared at the symbol he was looking at and sat up.
"Where the hell is this going?" Sam wondered.
"I don't know, but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean replied. "Good guess, Phoebs."
---
They made their way back to the music store to find Craig at the counter looking depressed.
"Hey, Craig?" Dean called. "Remember us?"
"Guys, look, I'm not really in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"
"Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all."
Dean flicked through the albums and picked one up.
As they approached the counter, Dean said to his brother, "You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then we realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for Blue Öyster Cult. Tell me, Craig. You into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Y'know, why don't you tell us about that house... without lying through your ass this time."
Craig sighed. "All right, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. 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 wall, some from albums, some from Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there so... we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but... that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we just made the whole thing up. I swear!"
"All right," Sam said softly.
The brothers turned to leave and Dean, holding his daughter's hand, glanced at his brother. "If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"
---
Back in the motel room, the shower was running. Dean entered and walked over to Sam's bed, lifting a packet of itching powder.
"Hey, I'm back," Dean called.
"Hey, where were you?" Sam asked from the bathroom.
"Oh, I went out." He picked up Sam's underwear from the bed and shook the contents of the packet onto it. He looked at a curious Phoebe. "Say nothing."
She nodded. "Secet?"
"Secret."
Phoebe grinned and pretended to zip her lips.
"So I think I might have a theory about what's gong on," Sam said.
Dean continued shaking the packet. "Oh yeah?"
"What if Mordechai is a Tulpa."
"Tulpa?"
Sam emerged from the bathroom. "Yeah, a Tibetan thought form."
Dean swung around hastily. "Ahh, yeah, I know what a Tulpa is. Hey, why don't you get dressed, I wanna go grab something to eat."
Dean entered the bathroom, smiling at Sam as he closed the door. Sam watched, then turned to pick up his underwear.
Sam frowned, seeing a knowing look on Phoebe's face. "What do you know?"
"Daddy said it's a secet."
"You're my niece."
"Secets can't be said."
Sam huffed and moved to an area where Phoebe couldn't see him and got dressed.
---
Dean got their coffees and hot chocolate for Phoebe and made his way to the table. Sam grimaced and adjusted his jeans.
Dean watched him. "Dude, what's your problem?"
"Nothing, I'm fine."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"So, ahh, all right, keep going. What about these Tulpas?"
"Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915," Sam said. "Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They mediated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air."
"So?"
"That was 20 monks. Imagine what 10,000 web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."
"Now wait a second," Dean said. "Are you trying to tell us that just because people believe in Mordechai he's real? People believe in Santa Claus, how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?"
"'Cause you're a bad person," Sam told him. "And because of this..." Sam turned his laptop, showing Dean a photo of one of the Hell House symbols. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. 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. So people are on the Hell Hounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai... I mean, I don't know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life."
Phoebe met his eyes. "Maybe that's why he keeps changing." She sipped her hot chocolate and stuck out her tongue. "Owie!"
"Too hot?" Dean asked.
"Super too hot."
"Let's let it cool down, okay?"
Phoebe nodded and began drawing on the table with her finger.
Sam grimaced and adjusted himself again. "Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so the legend itself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."
"Yeah, because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean replied.
Sam fidgeted. "Yeah."
"Okay. So why don't we just... uhh. Get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?"
"Well it's not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own."
"Great," Dean muttered. "So if he really is a thought form, how are we supposed to kill an idea?"
Sam itched and adjusted. "Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their home page." He showed his brother the footage from the previous night. "Since they've posted the footage, their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."
"Hmph," Dean mumbled. "I got an idea. Come on."
"Where we going?"
"We gotta find a copy store." He helped his daughter down and took her hand.
They rose to go and Sam itched and jiggled. "Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something."
Dean laughed as he walked away.
"You did this?" Sam asked.
Dean continued laughing.
"You're a friggin' jerk!" Sam yelled.
Dean raised his fist in the air. "Oh, yeah."
TRAILER PARK
Ed and Harry sat in a trailer with their equipment.
"No," Harry said. "No, no, forget it! I'm not going back in there again."
"Harry. Look at me," Ed instructed. "Right here. Okay? You are a ghost hunter, okay?"
"I know, but I've never seen a real ghost before Ed, like a real ghost, an apparition!"
"This stuff here... this is our ticket to the big time right here. Fame, money, sex. With girls. K? Be brave. WWBD. What. Would. Buffy. Do. Huh?"
"What would Buffy do," Harry whispered. "But Ed, she's stronger than me."
"It's okay."
There was a pounding on the door. Harry jumped in the air and squealed.
"Who is it!" Harry called.
"Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there," Dean said.
"It's them!" Ed yelled quietly.
They stuck their heads out the door.
"Ah, would you look at that!" Dean commented. "Action figures in their original packaging, what a shock."
"Guys, we need to talk," Sam said.
"Yeah, um, sorry guys," Ed told them. "We're ahhh, a little busy right now."
"Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website."
Ed laughed. "Well, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell..."
"I had to pee in that cell urinal," Harry interrupted. "In front of people. And I get stage fright."
"Why should we trust you guys?"
"Look, guys," Sam said. "We all know what we saw last night, what's in that house. But now thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai."
"That's right, which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt," Dean told them.
"Yeah, yeah..." Ed muttered.
"Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe..." Harry trailed.
"Nope..."
"No."
"We have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now," Dean said.
"Dean, Dean, it's okay," Sam reassured before turning to Ed and Harry. "Hey, just forget it, all right? These guys... probably bitch slap them both, I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai... but they still won't help us. Let's just go."
"Whoa... Whoa..." Ed and Harry called.
"Yeah, you're right," Dean agreed.
The brothers began walking away and Ed and Harry trailed behind.
"What you say about...?" Ed began.
"Hang on a second here," Harry said.
"Wait... wait."
"What thing about Mordechai you guys?"
"Don't tell 'em, Sam," Dean said.
"But if they agree to shut the website down, Dean," Sam replied.
"They're not going to do it, you said so yourself."
"No, wait," Ed called. "Wait. Don't listen him, okay? We'll do it. We'll do it."
"It's a secret, Sam."
Sam turned to Ed and Harry. "Look, it is a really big deal, all right? And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down."
"Totally," Ed lied.
"All right," Sam said as Dean handed them some paperwork. "It's a death certificate. From the 30s. 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 told them.
"He shot himself?" Ed questioned.
"Yep," Sam confirmed. "With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them."
"Matter of fact, they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it'd kill the son of a bitch," Dean said.
Ed and Harry snickered gleefully.
Harry spun and bolted back towards the trailer, Ed followed more slowly.
"Harry," Ed called. "Slow your roll, buddy. They're gonna know we're excited."
---
The three made their way to a café and sat in a booth. Sam was looking at his laptop. Phoebe had a plate of food in front of them and were eating. Dean reached up to the 3D artwork of a fisherman holding a big fish and pulled the cord. The fisherman's mouth moved up and down and an extremely annoying laugh played.
Sam pulled the cord to stop it and glared at his brother. "If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you."
Dean, deadpan, stared at Sam as he pulled the cord again. Sam immediately stopped it, glaring.
Dean snickered. "Come on, man, you need more laughter in your life. You know, you're way too tense. Phoebe's loving it."
Sam shot Dean another look and Phoebe said, "Again, Daddy."
Dean sighed. "They post it yet?"
Sam moved the laptop around so Dean could see it and stabbed at his salad angrily.
Dean read from the site. ""We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms." All right. How long do we wait?"
"Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change," Sam replied. "I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker."
Sam held his beer out to Dean who lifted his own and tapped it.
"Sweet," Dean said.
Dean took a long drink and Sam started grinning. Dean went to put the bottle down, but it was stuck to his hand. Sam cracked up as Dean stared at it, confused.
"You didn't," Dean stated.
Sam laughed and held up superglue. "Oh, I did."
Dean shook his head while Sam reached to make the fisherman laugh again.
Sam went to take a bite of his salad.
Phoebe grinned. "I wike the fishie laugh."
---
That night, the brothers made their way back to the Hell House. Phoebe was asleep in the car.
They entered, Dean first, then Sam on high alert, guns drawn, and began a methodical search, staying back to back. Dean readjusted his gun hand.
"I barely have any skin left on my palm," Dean said snarkily.
"I'm not touching that line with a ten-foot pole," Sam commented.
Dean shined his flashlight in Sam's face so he winced, then moved to the other room. Sam followed.
"So you think old Mordechai's home?" Dean asked.
"I don't know," Sam replied.
"Me either," Ed said from behind.
Sam and Dean spun and pointed their guns at Ed and Harry.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Ed cried.
Sam frowned. "What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?"
"We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"
From the basement, they heard knives being sharpened. Sam and Dean were immediately back on high alert.
"Oh, crap," Ed muttered.
Ed and Harry crowded close in behind Sam and Dean with their camera.
"Ah guys, you wanna... you wanna open that door for me?"
Dean eyed them and said in a challenging tone, "Why don't you?"
Mordechai burst through the door, holding an ax and screaming. Sam and Dean emptied their gun chambers. He held on, then wavered and disappeared into the mist. Sam and Dean waited a beat, then took off to ensure the other rooms were clear.
"Oh, God," Ed said. "He's gone. He's gone."
"Did you get him?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, they got him."
"No, on camera, did you get him on camera?"
"Well, I..."
"Let me see it, let me see it." Harry took the camera and flipped it open. Mordechai appeared, slammed his ax through the camera, forced Harry to the ground, and disappeared again.
Dean ran in. "Hey! Didn't you guys post that b.s. story we gave you?"
"Of course we did," Ed replied.
Sam appeared in the other door, gun at the ready.
"But then our server crashed," Harry said.
"Yeah," Ed agreed.
"So it didn't take?" Dean asked in an annoyed tone.
"Uh... mmm..." Ed and Harry hummed.
"So these guns don't work."
"Yeah," Ed confirmed.
"Great. Sam, any ideas?"
"We are getting out of here," Harry decided.
"Yeah. Great," Ed agreed.
Ed and Harry ran past Dean to the other room where Mordechai appeared again. They screamed as they ran to the front door, but it was locked. Mordechai followed them.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Harry said.
"The power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you. The power of Christ compels you!" Ed cried.
Sam, from behind, yelled, "Hey! Come and get hit you ugly son of a bitch."
Sam and Mordechai fought until Mordechai pinned Sam to the wall, ax to him throat.
Sam glanced to Ed and Harry. "Get out of here, now!"
"We're out of here..." Ed trailed.
Dean was in the other room, splashing kerosene everywhere. Mordechai lifted Sam off his feet with the pressure of the ax at his throat.
"Dean," Sam called softly.
Dean ran into the room. "Hey!" He held up a spray bottle and lit the gas and a plume of fire appeared.
He turned to Sam. "Go, go, go! Get outta here!"
Sam ran past him and Dean followed.
Sam held his throat as Dean spoke. "Mordechai can't leave the house, we can't kill him? We improvise." He held up his lighter, flicked it, and threw it back into the room. It burst into flame and the brothers ran outside.
"That's your solution?" Sam asked in a scratchy voice. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"
"Well, 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."
"Well, what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"
"Well, then we'll just have to come back."
The two of them stared at the house and watched it burn.
"Kinda makes you wonder," Sam said. "Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just because people believed in them?"
---
The next day, Sam, Dean and Phoebe were hanging out by a picnic table at the trailer park. Ed and Harry approached, carrying grocery bags.
"I was thinking that Mordechai has a really high super attack bonus," Harry told his friend.
"Man, I got the munchies right now," Ed replied, looking to Sam and Dean. "Gentlemen." He turned to Phoebe. "Little girl."
Phoebe waved, cuddling in her father's arms.
"Hey, guys," Sam greeted.
"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asked.
"Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades," Ed answered.
"So, this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer."
"Oh, yeah, wrong number?" Dean asked.
"No, smartass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it."
They placed their grocery bags into an overloaded car.
"And create the RPG," Harry added.
"The what?" Dean wondered.
"Role-playing game," Ed explained.
"Right."
"A little lingo for you. Excuse us, we're off to la-la land."
"Well, congratulations, guys," Sam told them. "That sounds really great."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "That's awesome, best of luck to you."
"Oh yeah, luck," Ed said. "That has nothing to do with it. It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent." They nodded to each other. "Later."
Ed and Harry got in the car and started pulling off.
"See ya round..." Ed told the three.
Dean watched them leave. "Wow."
"I have a confession to make," Sam said.
"What's that?"
"I... uh... I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer."
Dean laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their backseat."
The two of them laughed, soon joined by Phoebe.
"Truce?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, truce," Dean agreed. "At least for the next hundred miles."
They climbed into the Impala and took off as Blue Öyster Cult's Burnin' For You played.