Follows The Winchester-Kirk Expansion but can be read by itself. I am not a real writer so just take this for what it's supposed to be: fun. Also, if you can't imagine Scotty's accent in your head without me typing it out all crazy then, oops. Sorry. And I don't own ST or SPN. Also, this one has an attempt at an actual plot so PLEASE give me a review and tell me if it works for you or if it's just plain stupid.
Three weeks into their lives on the U.S.S Enterprise, Sam and Dean Winchester thought they had finally gotten a reprieve from 4 years of nonstop hunting. The only thing supernatural they'd noticed was Sam's newly honed telekinetic abilities. Sam used them to help Scotty down in engineering, hauling heavy equipment from one side of the deck to the other by himself. He'd even helped out Dr. McCoy once by holding back the blood flow on Captain Kirk's leg after he'd gotten himself shot on an away mission.
He was, in Dean's opinion, "…completely wasting your talents, Sammy. I am ashamed of your behavior."
Sam stopped walking and turned to gape at his older brother. "Wasting my talents? Are you serious? I'm using them to help! I'm trying to not be a waste of space and you're complaining? What the hell, Dean?"
"That's just it, Sam. You're helping out, that great. But you've been ace at this thing since the second day we've been here and not once have you used your powers for evil. Not once!"
"Dean, that's not funny. Considering I just nearly did go evil and all."
The older Winchester glared at him. "You know what I mean. I'm fucking ecstatic you aren't walking around with yellow eyes or some shit, but now that we know your powers are all YOURS it's time we have some fucking fun with 'em. I'm dying to do something to Spock, man."
Sam shook his head at Dean in amusement as he started to walk towards the mess hall again. "OK, I get where you're coming from. And normally I'd be right beside you but I don't wanna mess this up. I actually like being here, and I don't want to get kicked off the ship to some third rate planet because I decided to psychically tickle the Vulcan's ears."
"Hey now, that's an idea, Sammy! I say we go for it. And no way Jim is kicking us off the Enterprise; he fucking loves us. Bones would probably be pissed if you left, and I think Chekov might miss the only other person on board who he can debate the merits of Dostoevsky and Tolstoy with." Dean replied with an eye roll.
Secretly, Sam agreed with his brother, but didn't say anything, because he knew once the prank gates were opened they wouldn't close until somebody ended up bloody- and that was usually him. The Winchesters entered the mess hall and grabbed their lunch. It was the middle of the day so most of the crew was on duty. They sat down at a table by themselves, and soon Dean began to bug him about his powers again. Sam quickly zoned him out, and didn't hear a thing his brother said until Dean let out a delighted sounding laugh that brought him back to the present.
Dean was looking over at the line of food replicators with a hugs grin on his face. Sam turned to see what was going on and was shocked to see all 5 machines pumping out a steady stream of thick pink goo. "Dean, what hap-" he began.
"Sam! You are awesome, man. That is awesome. Let's get out of here before they notice you did it."
Dean sprang out of his seat and walked casually out of the mess hall. Sam, however, stayed right where he was, staring at the malfunctioning replicators. With a deep look of concentration on his face, he got up and went over to the machines. They were still leaking the pink goo all over the floor. By now the few crew members in the mess had also noticed what was going on, and were giving Sam a curious look as he approached.
Sam reached out to the nearest replicator and pushed the stop button. Nothing happened, so he grabbed the manual lever, and recoiled as soon as his hand touched the metal. It was cold. Not just cold, but bone shivering, freezing, cold. Sam grabbed it again and tried to tug it towards off. His feeling of unease began to grow as the lever didn't budge with even an added pull from Sam's mind. Coming to a decision after trying the other machines to only get the same results, Sam turned around and saw the closest person he recognized.
"Nurse Chapel? Could you come over here please? And grab up a few things of salt, if you could." Christine Chapel looked confused but did as Sam asked. The hunter took the salt and carefully spread it over and around the first replicator. Immediately the machine stopped producing the fluid and when Sam touched the level again it's temperature was back up to a normal one. Grimly he continued salting all of the replicators.
With a sigh, Sam pulled out the communicator he'd been given and flicked it over to the first setting. "Dean? Could you come on back to the mess? We may have a little bit of a problem."
Five minutes later Dean walked in accompanied by Engineer Scott. "Sammy? What's up?" He surveyed the mess behind his brother. "OK, messing with the replicators was funny, but why the salt? That's a little weird, man."
"I didn't do any of this Dean." Sam replied.
Dean's eyes flickered over the mess again, before snapping over to meet Sam's gaze. "You didn't do it? So that means…"
"Yeah, that's what I think," his brother said wearily, before explaining what exactly what happened. "To say it out loud, I think there's a spirit on board."
Scotty, who'd been silent up until now, spoke up. "A spirit? You mean, like a ghost of some kind? That's… that's crazy talk, you know. And I should know, I'm a bit of an expert in crazy."
"Yeah well we're experts in ghosts and shit, so keep your pants on, Scotty" Dean shot back. He turned back to Sam. "We should rig up a couple of EMF's and go see if it's causing trouble anywhere else. If it is, hopefully it's not trying to get anybody killed and just doing stupid crap like this."
After obtaining the EMF's from Scotty, who had a few to measure electromagnetic frequency's down in the engine room, the brothers split up and began to search the ship. After an hour Sam hadn't found anything. He entered the sickbay and immediately the EMF began to light up with low levels of activity. Sam barely heard the greeting Bones called out to him. "Hey, Leonard. Don't mind me, I'll hopefully be out of here in a minute."
McCoy frowned at the man. "What exactly is it you're doing? Not that I'm complaining about somebody visiting-" Sam tore his gaze away from the EMF to cock an eyebrow at the doctor. "-and by somebody I mean not Jim, but it doesn't happen very often. And what's that in your hand?"
"What do you need that for? It's not gonna mess up my equipment, is it?" Bones asked with a scowl.
"Oh, no, don't worry about that. I'm just monitoring to see if the spirit has been here. Looks like it has." Sam replied casually.
He looked up at Bones again just in time to see the doctor turn white. "Did you say spirit? As in… ghost?" The doctor pulled at the neck of his blue uniform nervously and Sam saw sweat begin to break out on the man's forehead.
He replied carefully. "Yeah, looks like there's a ghost on the ship. Don't worry though, my brother and I have gone up against hundreds of these, we'll get it soon. While I'm here, can I bug you for the list of all crew who've died on board? I know I'm an insensitive bastard to ask, but if we can figure out if it's one of them we can find out what they want, or if they're even dangerous or not."
McCoy nodded his head numbly and handed Sam a PADD with the names. He turned around and started to walk out of the sickbay, only just remembering he'd left Sam standing there. "I'm gonna go… somewhere." He called back weakly. "Somewhere without ghosts…"
Dean wasn't having much more luck than his brother. He'd found a couple of spots with low-level signs of spirit activity, but was unable to pinpoint a location for the thing. After searching the entire top half of the ship he made his way back to the mess hell, for food and to see if there was any other signs of the spirit they'd missed.
The mess by the replicators had been cleaned up, but it looked like Sam had redone the salt line he'd made earlier. Dean stood and just watched until he felt somebody come to stand beside him. He looked up at the man, Jim Kirk, who smirked back at Dean. "So, you maybe want to let me in on why Bones is hiding in my quarters in the middle of the day? All I could get out of him was your brother did something and then another something about a spirit."
Dean snorted at the captain and told him what was going on. By the end of his story Jim was looking at Dean with obvious skepticism. "Now, I know you guys have seen some weird shit and all, but why the hell would there be a ghost onboard the Enterprise? And why would it be messing with the damn replicators?"
"That's what we're trying to find out, Captain," Sam's voice called. He came to sit at the table the two men were at, eyes flickering over the replicators before focusing on Jim.
"Sam, you're as bad as Spock. Stop calling me captain when I'm not ordering you around. Act like your brother and show a little less respect."
"Alright, alright, fine. Jim." Sam turned to look at Dean. "Any other physical manifestations of the spirit since back here earlier?"
As if Dean shaking his head was the cue they'd been waiting for, the mess hall's garbage disposal units promptly started to regurgitate their contents all over the far side of the room. "How 'bout that," Jim said dryly. "It's almost as if the spirit just likes the mess."
Sam grabbed the PADD Bones had given him earlier off the table and began to scroll through it's data furiously. "Ha! I think I've got our victim."
"Really? 'Likes messes' was that good of a clue?" Dean asked.
His brother gave him a small smile as he began to explain. "When the Enterprise was undergoing it's final refit to be space ready- installing lights, putting in furniture, things like that- there was a crew of janitors responsible for keeping different areas of the ship clean. Thirty-eight year old man named Logan Cale was responsible for the mess hall. He reportedly was absolute shit at his job- spent more time going after the young female technicians working on the Enterprise than doing work. Three different women filed sexual harassment suits against him. The guys in charge of the janitorial stuff tried to reign him in, but when they saw how gross the mess had gotten on his watch they fired him. Cale didn't take that very well, and threw a, quote, "temper tantrum" messing with the replicators, dumping trash everywhere, and even using one corner as a personal bathroom. Security finally came to escort him out, and they arrived just to see him slip in the mess he'd made and bash his head on the ground. Cale bled out before the doctor could get to him."
Jim stared at Sam with his mouth hanging open. After a few seconds he cleared his throat and said "So you're telling me my ship is being haunted by a pervy janitor who likes to make messes."
Sam gave him an apologetic smile. "That's what it looks like. Just be glad only the filth part carried over into death and we don't have him flipping up the skirts of every female that comes in here."
"Yeah, Sam that would be absolutely horrible. Thank God for small favors." Dean said with a sardonic grin.
The captain laughed at the slight look of disgust on Dean's face. "Alright, so skirts aside- or not as it may be- how are we gonna get rid of this thing? Dean, you said you needed the body or some object of personal value to the spirit. Pretty sure we aren't going to have either of those in regards to this Logan Cale jerk."
Dean's smile just grew. "I think I know what we need to do, Jimmy. Can you make sure as many of the crew as possible get in here for dinner tonight?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll have to switch a couple of people around, but the beta team was supposed to be on the bridge this evening anyways. I'll get on that."
Jim got up and exited the mess, leaving Sam and Dean alone at their table. "You gonna give me any idea what you're planning, Dean?" Sam asked warily.
"Well, Sam" his brother replied with a smirk. "We're gonna give Logan Cale exactly what he wants."
An hour and a half later, the mess hall was filled with members of the Enterprise. Everybody available was there except for Bones who, according to Kirk, had felt the best way to fight the ghost was to down a bottle of bourbon and drool all over Jim's pillow. At Dean's insistence they had all gotten food and were attempting to eat while waiting not at all patiently for the Winchesters to fill them in on why they were there. Sulu kept looking over at Dean, and had been chewing on the same replicated chicken leg for ten minutes straight.
Finally, Dean put down his fork and stood up. The few people who'd been talking quickly quieted and all looked over at the hunter. Dean walked around the tables, surveying the food left in front of everybody before he began to speak.
"I'm sure the captain has told all of you about the spirit haunting the mess hall. After careful thought I have decided that there is only one way, given the present conditions, that we can get rid of the ghost." He came to a stop back in front of his half-finished plate of food. "Since most of you grew up on Earth, I will assume you have done what we are about to do at one time or another. You may have fond memories of this activity, or you may have lingering memories of defeat and shame."
Chekov began to squirm in his seat as Dean finished his little speech, and Uhura narrowed her eyes trying to figure out what Dean was talking about. "Now since this was my idea, I have elected myself to be today's walking cliché and get things started. It is very important you follow my lead and participate to the full extent of your capabilities if you want the ghost to be put to rest."
With that said Dean scooped up a handful of the replicated mashed potatoes he had left untouched and screamed at the top of his lungs "FOOD FIGHT!" and with a quick toss threw the potatoes right into the face of a very confused First Officer Spock. For a full ten seconds there was no reaction as the crew just stared at the now dripping Vulcan. Then, with a laugh of pure glee, Scotty picked up his tray of replicated spaghetti and dumped it all over Sam's head.
That action brought everybody to action. Sulu grabbed up the dinner rolls from his table and began to chuck them as if pitching a baseball at everybody in his vicinity. The normally composed Lieutenant Uhura had grabbed the bottle of replicated ketchup and started to chase after Kirk with an expression of manic determination that wouldn't have been out of place in the middle of a firefight. The war raged for a full fifteen minutes before the group of adults had exhausted themselves. When there was a lull in the madness, Uhura suddenly let out a yelp and jumped.
"Somebody just smacked my ass!" she declared angrily. The men around her vehemently denied being the culprit and soon a pale figure flickered into sight in the middle of them. Logan Cale was an average looking man, with smart looking glasses covering a smarmy pair of eyes. He was sporting a spiky hair-do that wouldn't have looked out of place on a man twenty years his junior and was rubbing his hands together in amusement. With a bright grin, the ghost yelled "Thanks!" before vanishing in a burst of light.
Once again the room was completely silent. Then Spock, who only now it was noticed had not moved from his seat despite being covered in a plethora of different replicated foodstuffs, stood up. He gazed around the room at the mess covering every visible inch before speaking. "Fascinating." With that he walked out the door of the mess hall, Uhura scurrying after.
Jim wiped replicated banana off his forehead and looked over at Dean. "I take it the Enterprise is ghost free now?"
Dean nodded. "Yep, your problem is solved. I am awesome. Saved the day, and managed to keep all replicated food products out of my hair," he boasted.
Sam chose that moment to decide his brother had been right about using his powers for fun every once in a while. His first act was to levitate a glass of milk and pour it straight on top of Dean's head.
AN: Yes, it is *that* Logan Cale :)