Chapter Fifty-three.

Hey, guys!
Many apologies (as usual) for the long wait.
There have been classes, and work, and broken computers, and sicknesses, and visiting families - list really can go on. But here we go, right? At least it's something!
Additional apologies for those who have PMed me or asked me questions or have tried to contact me by any other means - I really am not ignoring you. I'm trying, I promise. I'm just busy, busy, busy!

Bear with me if the formatting for this chapter is off, I had to do a different way of posting this time, so I don't know if it will be as smooth. I'll be trying to fix it as we go along :)

Thank you so much for all of you who have not only stuck with me but have continued to join in the Becca Backer Bandwagon! Totally appreciate each of you. We're over 100 followers, you guys! And we're exactly 100 favorites! I never thought number would show up. I cannot express my gratitude enough. I wish I could hug you all. And I don't hug, so that's how happy I am!
Extra, extra thanks to those who have reviewed. You're the absolute best! You really are! I love that you care enough to do so!

I don't know if you're aware, but I recently did a co-write with the fabulous wandertogondor, and you can see that up on her page! Be sure to review and then check out all of her stories - totally worth it!
Also, be on the look out for future co-writes because that may or may not be happening. ;)

Don't forget to check out Baby Becca and The Sisterhood of the Travelling Hunters since both have Becca and friends in them! I'm taking requests for Baby Becca, so send them on over!

I bow down to my fabulous three who are always helping me out when I need it most. You know who you are. I loves yous guys.

Without further ado,


Songs: Fire of Unknown Origin; Career of Evil - Blue Öyster Cult
Don't Rock the Boat - Hues Corporation

Death comes sweeping through the hallway
Like a lady's dress
Death comes driving down the highway
In its Sunday best

A fire of unknown origin
Took my baby away
A fire of unknown origin
Took my baby away

Swept her up and off my wavelength
Swallowed her up
Like the ocean in a fire
So thick and gray

A fire of unknown origin
Took my baby away
"Fire… of unknown origins… took my baby away!" Dean sang loudly as he spun the dial and the volume of the song shot about a jillion times higher. My eyes lifted from where I'd been silently been staring at the white line that ran alongside the car as we drove. I jumped as Sam flailed around and something went shooting out of his mouth and landed on the floor. Dean was drumming away on the steering wheel, and then looked over to Sam, wearing a giant grin on his face.

"Ha ha, very funny," Sam grumbled as he leaned forward and turned down the music.

Dean laughed and settled in deeper to his seat. "Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own. Besides, I was goin' crazy, man. You were out and Becca shut up – which don't get me wrong was nice in the beginning – but then she stuck with it and I thought I was gonna go insane."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned against the door and went back to watching the line on the road. I was so bored. I'd eaten my, or our, last snack. I wasn't tired enough to fall asleep. I wasn't hyper enough to belt out the song, I wasn't in the mood to be texting people, and I wasn't in a big enough space to stretch out. I was cramped, and annoyed. "Man, we're not kids anymore, Dean," Sam was griping as he continued to be angry about whatever Dean had done. "We're not going to start that crap up again."

Not taking my eyes from the window, I asked, "Start what up?" from where I was nestled in a ball.

"That prank stuff. It's stupid, and it always escalates," Sam answered, turning in his seat to look at me while also keeping a stern eye on Dean. What are you, Sam, a freaking chameleon? Put your eyes back to normal. But that prank stuff though? Holy crap. Nothing good ever came from that. I have ended up with snakes in my bag, a bathroom full of crickets, the word 'bitch' on my cast, eyebrows half-missing, normal underwear replaced with granny panties and diapers, and the jerks even once pranked me at a diner by saying that this guy was into me. That was more than embarrassing me. Going up to random strangers and being all, "hey, I'm gonna flirt with you because my brothers said you liked me, so look at me pretend like I know what I'm doing as I twirl my hair and lean on the counter and wait, what, you're gay and actually want my brother's number?" Fun times.

I hate them.

"Aww, what's the matter, Sammy?" Dean teased from where he was still grinning. "Scared you're going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?"

"All right, just remember you started it," Sam bit, weaving his head back and forth while he turned to look through his window.

Turning around to face me, the grin growing, Dean's eyes sparkled as he spoke. "Bring it on, baldy. What about you, Becs? You wanna get in on the action?"

I held my hands in the air as a signal that I was neither agreeing or denying the fact that pranks may or may not have already been flowing through my mind for when I would inevitably need the revenge. Laughing, Dean faced forward once more and leaned back. "Where are we anyway?" Sam continued to hold annoyance in his voice.

"Few hours outside of Richardson," I sighed, crossing arms inside of my hoodie once more as I stared at the trees that all looked alike and can a freaking animal just appear PLEASE.

"Gimme the lowdown again," Dean huffed once he realized we still weren't any closer to where we wanted to be.

Shifting in his seat and reading off the article once more, Sam repeated in a very monotone voice. We've been through this reading a few times already. "All right, about a month or two ago this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Dean asked.

"Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters. Anyway, this group of kids sees this dead girl hanging in the cellar," Sam explained further.

Why's it always girls, huh? Why are girls always the ones who have to die and be the victims? Sam and Dean are just as girly as me, so there's clearly no logical explanation behind this at all. "Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean turned to face Sam, looking back at me, catching my eyes quickly.

Shaking his head, Sam answered, "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," I offered. I mean, every town has a house like this. People pull stupid crap all the time with these kinds of places.

"Maybe," Sam said through a breath while sinking in his seat, "but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere."

Looking at Dean and shrugging, I was just as lost as he was about these firsthand accounts. How often did this sort of thing happen? "Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean's brows were raised the question came out, almost as if they were as curious about the answer as Dean and I were.

Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, Sam cleared his throat and a light chuckle-scoff baby came out. "Well," he trailed. "I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local… paranormalwebsites. And I found one."

Hold on there, Speedy Gonzales. Can you rewind? "You surfed some what?" I grinned, already probably picking on him too much just by the tone in my voice.

"Paranormal websites," he coughed quietly, bringing a full grin to my face. My brother is such a geek.

"What's it called?" Dean's voice was light and teasing as he joined me in picking on Sam.

After a light pause and nudge of encouragement – or flick to the back of the head – Sam finally said, "Hell-Hounds-Lair-dot-com."

And then I lost it. Full blown laughing out loud, falling over on the seat. Oh man, that's a good one. Whew, thank you for bringing me out of that funk. Aha. Oh I'm gonna have to spread the word on this site for sure. I gotta check this out. "Lemme guess," Dean laughed, I think more at me than the actual site, "streaming live out of Mom's basement."

Sam laughed as well. "Yeah, probably."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit 'em in the persqueeter."

"Persqueeter," I repeated, laughing and shaking my head. "Don't call it a persqueeter. No matter how funny it is, ya dick."

"Bite me."

"Not even if you had a persqueeter," I bit back with a smirk and wink. I think Dean does forget I'm a girl sometimes – and then he says things like persqueeter. If you don't know what a persqueeter is… well, it's lady business-ish. It's your lady business. I suppose it could be man business, too… Whatever. It's your own personal business and I don't honestly think a ghost should bite anyone there. What I'm trying to say is, guard your persqueeter, people.

Groaning out of annoyance and turning in his seat so that he could face me, he looked up. "Look. We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way." Cue the dirty look to Dean. Rubbing a hand down my face I tipped my head and gave Sam my best "get on with it" eyes. "And now we don't know where the hell he is, so in the meantime we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm in checking this thing out."

Silence. No words, just music, and questioning eyeballs. That was it. Dean just continued, probably thinking about what Sam said or other things. I don't know. I'm not in his head. But, finally his thumb was matching the beat of the guitar in the song, and he nodded. "All right. So where do we find these kids?"

"Same place you always find kids in a town like this," Sam stated simply.

"Drinking beers in the Wal-Mart parking lot," I nodded once with a satisfied look, like I'd just figured out the only possible answer. Seemed logical to me. Sam instead laughed and stuck a big ole hand on my head to shove me face down into the seat.

Listen up, people. If you ever freaking go and hear a horror story about some local legend, you better get your facts straight, got it? Because when I come and bust down your door for whatever reason I have, you better be able to have a story that lines up with everyone else's. None of this mumble-jumbled nonsense that doesn't even work. Freaking three different chicks being described. Do not make me slap you because you're being dumb. Especially if you went with your friends and they're just as unhelpful with their answers. Ever heard of getting your stories straight? It's not just something they say on TV. Do it. In real life. Today. Freaking no good, ugh, whatever. Just don't be like the people we went and questioned. We had split up and each gone to see what was the scoop. Not a single story had a match minus that there was a girl hanging from the ceiling and that some guy named Craig Thurston was our answer. At least there was that. And lucky for me he worked at a local music shop.

The bell above the door sounded as I led my brothers into the store, quickly looking up when a voice called out, "Can I help you with anything?" Well. They are definitely on top of their game in these parts. Musically speaking.

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam spoke, heading to the counter where the kid stood.

"I am." And that's my cue.

Hanging back, I slowly walked away, looking at cassette tapes. Smiling, I found myself to be completely overjoyed with the large amount they had for some pretty cheap prices. Good. I wouldn't need them for long anyway. Picking through and finding a ton that fit my criteria, I filled a nearby box and walked around to the other side of the bin as Dean and Sam neared the area with Craig.

"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 strung '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."

"Brutal," I whispered, coming into the story that Craig was telling my brothers. My main question however was just how specific was this guy with the girls that went walking in there? Because that's gonna be a problem if I have to fight with a noose around my neck. It's gonna be an even bigger problem when I try stepping in there with those two. Protective I get, overprotective is obnoxious. Helpful, but obnoxious. We all had different ideas of just where the line that differentiated the two fell. "Where'd you hear all this?" I piped up louder, looking to Craig and he seemed confused that I intruded on the story. "I'm with them," I explained with a nod. I rolled my eyes when he looked to my brothers for verification.

Slumping his shoulders as he got back into whatever groove I had apparently taken him out of, he went on. "My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realize," he almost seemed to plead as he turned back to my brothers, "I… I didn't believe this for a second."

Sam put on his normal 'you're kidding me right' face and I smiled a little bit. This guy was already pissing him off. "But now you do." Yep. Sam thinks you're dumb.

"I don't know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I-I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay? And neither should she," he nodded to me, causing my brothers to turn to me and give me a once over.

Dean nodded his head, his eyes almost softening as he met my face. "Thanks," he murmured as he then turned back to Craig and continued to ask a few questions as they walked away towards some records.

Turning around with the still aggravated look on his face, Sam placed his hands on the rim of the bin and looked at me with a shake of the head. Chuckling, I went back to sifting through cassettes. "Oh calm down. We'll get to the bottom of it. We always do. Come help me out with this, you know music I don't," I indicated to the box of tapes in my hands, gaining his interest.

Slopping up the hill ahead of Dean, I stopped on the path when the old house came into view. This thing was not only falling apart, but I think I can honestly say this house was dying. I don't know how or why that's possible, but it is, and you'll just have to believe me. Doors were boarded up and everything was made out of wood. I mean everything. There was no sign of anything else on this house. The porch was sloping and super thin. I don't even think it can qualify as a porch. It's more like someone just took plywood and threw it down and said, "tah dah!" I almost felt bad for the house. I bet it could have been beautiful. Too bad it was the house of a crazed murderer. Always one thing or another.

"Can't say I blame the kid," Sam's voice came from beside me as he nudged his elbow into my upper arm, indicating to the falling piece of architecture.

Dean came to a stop on my other side and nodded. "Yeah, so much for curb appeal."

"Well," I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets, "standing here isn't going to get any answers. So, let's go look around and get out of these trees. I don't like 'em." I didn't wait for an answer before I started to walk off towards the side of the building.

Cutting around the corner, I looked at the windows that sat in the walls, searching for any signs of break-ins or residue, or anything, really. There weren't any. Cutting back to the tree line, I looked around for signs, or rope, or maybe even a script for something to do with people pranking other people. When I found nothing, I groaned and headed back over to where we'd split up, and was glad to see that I hadn't given up early. Sam was heading back, too, and Dean looked unconvinced. I cannot tell you the amount of times that I have spent scouring areas only to come back at the end to find out that apparently it wasn't enough time. I mean, that's ridiculous. Just because you had the area with all the cool stuff doesn't mean anything. I can find stuff, too. "Do-doing" myself through a song, I made my way back to Dean, and I heard the EMF ticking, and clicking, and giving squirts of sound.

Stopping next to Sam, who had a confused, quizzical look on his face, he looked to our brother. "You got something?"

Catching Dean's eyes, we both shook our heads at Sam's question, and Dean went on to eyeball Sam once more. "Yeah," he told him, tapping the EMF as if it were obvious. And it was. "The EMF's no good."

"You kidding? That thing is squealing like a kid in a puppy store. 'Course it's working," I argued.

"Just because you squealed in that puppy store last year doesn't mean all kids do. Besides," Dean turned to look up at the power lines overhead. "I think that thing's still got a little juice in it. It's screwing with all the readings."

Staring at the power lines as though they had personally wronged me, I frowned when Sam said, "Yeah, that'd do it," and sighed.

There was silence as I turned back to face both of my brothers. They were looking at each other and having one of those silent conversation dealies, and I could tell they were arguing over something. Dean looked determined and had this, "I'm not gonna do it" look while Sam had an annoyed, "Well it's gotta get done" face. I hated not knowing what went on in their mind meld thing, but it was annoying. "Come on, guys," I groaned. "Use your words." They both looked from each other to me then back to each other. No one was saying anything. Well, freaking fine. "All right. Whatever. Let's go check out the house then," I sighed. Starting to walk past them, a hand shot out in front of me and caught my stomach, pushing me back to where I had been standing. Grumbling from the bubble invasion, I slapped the hand off of me and glared at them. Who do they think they are? My brothers? "What are you doing?"

Flashing one more look to Dean, Sam stepped up. "You're not going in there," he told me lightly while he tried to use his tall frame to block me. Like I wouldn't notice him standing there.

"Why not?" I slowly asked, my eyes flashing from him to Dean and back. When he didn't answer right away, I went to step around him, only to have him instantly move in front of me again. Oh, so this is how we're gonna do this? Frustration level: epic. "I thought we were a team," I growled, stomping my foot at Sam continuing to block me.

Rolling his eyes at my – what was later called "childish behavior" – Sam shifted his weight to one foot and gave me an annoyed look. "Haven't you been paying any attention to this case at all? Girls, Becca, this thing is going after girls. And regardless of your personality, attitude, manner or whatever you want to call it, you're in that category."

Gritting my teeth, I think I actually growled. "I'm pretty sure it's my boobs that qualify me for that category," I angrily told him while pointing a finger between each of them as I glared, expecting an answer. "That's not fair," I barked when no response came. "You guys are going and you're both bigger girls than I am!"

"Bec," Dean barked, coming to side with Sam, "he's right. We can't take the chance of that thing getting you. Last thing we need is one more thing using our family against us."

I couldn't believe Dean was honestly taking his side. "So what? Am I supposed to just stand out here and pick freakin' tulips or something? This is bogus. I know what I'm doing."

"Look!" Dean shouted, causing me to jump. "You're staying out here, where it's safe. If I catch you in that house, I will kick your ass to Monday, do you understand.?"

"But De –"

"Do you understand?" the hard glare in his eyes was something I hadn't seen in a while. He was pulling more than just the big brother card. He was pulling the "I'm in charge", "I'm oldest," "I will beat your ass," "I'm pretty much your PARENT" card. And that one I couldn't go up against.

Slouching and crossing my arms, I mumbled out a "yeah, I understand" while looking away from the both of them. Just because I understood didn't mean I didn't think this was complete and utter bs. Not looking at them after I had been thoroughly scolded, I listened to their feet crunch and slosh away and bit my tongue. Grumbling, I went to the tree line and threw myself against a tree, leaning on it. "I HOPE HE EATS YOU!" I shouted, angry and trying to think of ways that they would DEFINITELY be making this up to me.

"Bec –"


"You gotta –"


"We didn't –"


"We were onl –"

"Quiet, heathen!" I snapped as I held up a hand, silencing Sam yet again. He and I had been researching in the library for any more information on this Mordechai guy. After Sam and Dean had finished filling me in on the new besties that they'd made, and I finished laughing at them, I agreed to research with Sam instead of going to the police station with Dean. Turns out I'm actually allowed in both of those buildings, girl or not. But, man, what I had in my hand was gold. And utter proof that my brothers were over overprotective. That's right. I could have gone in that stupid house the whole time. I knew I didn't need to wait outside and see those two come stomping out with very fine words about the two camera guys they met inside.

Just as we came to the bottom of the stairs to the library, Sam had given up hope of trying to explain what I am sure was a very good reason behind their banning me from the house, Dean appeared. And he definitely noticed the super giant grin on my face. Ooh, this is gonna make him look so dumb. "Hey," Sam sighed, greeting Dean while I continued to smile like a little kid who just got their way after being told no. So, basically I was just smiling super big. Because I will be having my way next time we go to that house.

Eyeing me carefully, Dean then shifted his gaze from my cheery face over to Sam. "Hey. What'd you guys get?

Shaking the paper in the air as though it were hot off the press, I cleared my throat and stood up straighter. "Weeeeelllll," I drawled out, making sure his annoyed face was back on me. "We found absolutely nothing about a Mordechai, but we did find a Martin Murdock who lived in that creepy, old, dilapidating house back in the 30's. Mr. Murdock did in fact have children, just like the rumor, but he only had two of them – and they were both boys. And to top off the yummy sundae that is now today, this little cherry will make you smile, there is no evidence to show that Martin Murdock ever killed anyone." I ended my speech with a satisfied look, waiting for the smart remark to come from Dean or the explanations to come from Sam. And as I forked over the paper and allowed Dean to run over everything we'd found, I couldn't help but feel smug when he tipped his head.


Huh? That was it? That was all he had to say? WHAT! "What do you mean, huh?"

Shrugging, Dean handed the paper back over. "Good job on the research."

Ripping the paper from his hand with a force that made him glare and check his hand for a paper cut, Dean glared at me. "You said I couldn't go in that house because this guy was killing girls! He didn't kill anyone, don't you think that means you owe me an apology?"

Dean gave me a look like I was some crazy person. "I was keeping you safe. We didn't know that Murdock wasn't out there slinging up girls to his ceiling. I'm not apologizing for keeping you safe."

"That's not –"

"What did you find out?" Sam cut me off with a sigh and look that told me to just give up.

His glare lingering as he waited for me to continue my argument, Dean stuck his hands in his pockets before he answered and nodded for us to follow him towards the car. "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 missing persons. It's like she never existed. Dude, come on, we did our digging, man, this one's a bust all right. For all we know those hellhound boys made up the whole thing."

Sam leaned on the top of the car, along with Dean, mirroring each other. I was looking back at the paper in my hand and then their faces. They were not seriously just dumping this case. "Yeah, all right," Sam sighed, agreeing that it was okay to move on.

"No," I bit, angrily, earning looks from both of them. "We are not done with this case. There has to be something."

"Sure," Sam agreed as Dean rolled his eyes and got into the car. I had gone to open the door, when Sam stuck a hand out in front of me and leaned down to look in the window. "It's just a bunch of pranks, Bec," he said over his shoulder. "Why should we stick around for –"

Jumping back from the car, I screamed as the loud, up-beat music blared from the speakers. Spanish words screamed in my ears and then all of a sudden the wipers started flying across the windshield. "Whoa! What the –" Dean's voice barely made it over the volume of the music that was definitely not his choice in genre. Trying to calm down and get my breathing back to normal, I growled as I heard Sam laugh and get in the car. Crawling into the car myself, I flicked the back of Sam's head as he continued to laugh and score the points in the air with his fingers.

Dean shot Sam one of the dirtiest looks I'd ever seen while he started the car. "That's all you got? Weak. That is bush league."

Sam choked back and coughed out a "Dude" while looking back at me as though Dean needed permission to say what he did.

"Don't you look at me like, that, I shave my bush," I spoke matter-of-factly, settling nicely into my little corner between the door and seat.

Loud grossed out groans came from the front seat as Dean whined out a, "I don't wanna hear this," and Sam turned the Latin music back on.

Dean snapped his fingers, and motioned for Sam to grab a tape from the box at his feet, and then shoved it into the player in the dash. Smirking, I waited patiently for the tape to begin playing.

Rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby
Rock the boat

Ever since our voyage of l –

The tape flew towards my head so quick, I thought it would cut me. Throwing my hands in the air, the tape bounced angrily against my wrist and fell to the seat beside me. Dean pulled the box up on the seat between him and Sam and began rifling through the cases – that I hadn't changed. Opening up the plastic containers and pulling out tape after tape, Dean got angrier and angrier as children's tapes, recorded sermons, and various disco and dance songs filled up his hands.

Turning to face me, Dean shoved the box into my lap and dumped the bogus tapes into it. Reaching across me, he then opened the door and leaned back in his seat. "Get out."

"….what?" my eyes were large as the word seemed to almost stumble its way past my lips.

"You heard me, get out," he barked with a shove to the side of my arm. "Playing with the radio is one thing, but switching out all my music? Too far."

Sam turned to face Dean, shocked at the antics. "Dean, relax."

"You get out, too!"

Too early. Nope, way too early. Coffee. I need coffee. I can't even tell you how someone heard the call over the police scanner because I was under the impression that people slept during the night time hours. But someone did. I think it was Sam. And because this call came in over the scanner at the crack of the sun isn't even up yet, I was rolled off my lovely couch and on to the floor with a kick to the foot and an order to "haul ass". So now we are here. Outside of the house o' terror that I thought we were no longer concerned about. Except now the place was surrounded by the typical emergency vehicles and a ton of people.

Practically falling right out of the Impala as Sam opened my door for me, I rubbed at my eyes and stumbled my way alongside them to where they stopped and I ran right into my twin. Catching myself before I toppled over, I grabbed onto the sleeve of Sam's jacket and pulled myself up. "What happened?" I mumbled, fighting a yawn and running a hand through my hair as I wrapped my arm through the hole Sam's made as his hand sat in his pocket.

"A coupla cops say a girl hung herself in the house," a nearby man said. I can't tell you if he was a cop or anything, because my eyes were closed. I was kind of hanging off of Sam and using him for a support beam. Nodding my head the minute the guy began talking, I registered pretty much nothing. I don't even think the words made it into one ear.

Sam's arm vibrated with his voice as I leaned my head against it and a small smile spread over my face. I missed you, tall boy, because Dean would not let me do this if we were on a case. Well, okay, he might but then he'd spin so fast I'd fall to the ground. And then he'd threaten to leave me there. You can be my favorite again. You're nice. I like nice. "Suicide?" Sam's tone was gentle and soft, clearly laced with concern as he went slightly rigid.

There was a low whistle slash sigh thing. "Yeah. She was a straight A student, with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense," the random male voice form before told us.

"Whaddaya think?" Sam's body turned, taking me with it and causing me to jolt and slip a little.

"I want pancakes, with lots of syrup and coffee," I smiled, snuggling my head in further to Sam's arm. I know, I'm touching him, but like, there's exceptions to my rules, okay? I do have a method to all of my madness.

Receiving a nudge in the head as Sam pushed my head off his arm. I frowned and squinted open my eyes as the sun began rising, and pouted as Dean nodded his head in consideration of my desire for food. "I think maybe we missed something," he spoke, looking back towards the house for a minute.

Pulling on my socks, I looked towards the door as Dean came in, food bag in hand. Yay. He put the bag down and smacked my hand like a child's when I went to reach for the Styrofoam containers inside. "Hey!" I yipped, pulling my hand back and flexing the fingers as they slightly stung.

"Don't touch," he scolded, slowly taking the boxes out one by one and setting them gently on the table. "Go get some beers, would ya?"

Grabbing a few bottles and coming back to the table, I handed out the beverages and settled into my seat between my brothers. Smiling, I pulled the box closer to me when I felt it jerk. Freezing, my fingers lightly stayed on the container, not sure if I imagined it or not. Food doesn't do that. Slowly inching the box on the table, something tugged and then smacked against my hand through the Styrofoam. This was definitely not normal. "What did you order?" I questioned with uncertainty as my fingers dragged over to the small latch that kept the container closed.

"Why don't you open it and find out?" Dean voiced through a mouthful of burger and beer.

Sam watched cautiously while his fork full of salad lowered from his mouth back to the table. My eyes looked up to his, silently asking him what he thought I should do. When he looked to the box and then back to my eyes, he shrugged. Licking my lips, I looked down at the container and popped the Styrofoam apart and then left the lid sitting closed, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, I began to lift the lid and peeked through the small gap to see what it was. When the gap got wide enough, something brown and moving jumped through the gap and landed on my shirt, crawling around.

Screaming, I leapt from my chair and began swatting at my chest and stomach, bouncing around and bolting onto the table that sat in front of the couch. Swiping a pillow off the couch, I searched the ground for whatever had just tried to eat me, and screamed again when I saw it running across the floor. Throwing my pillow, it landed on top of the creature, and felt myself panting while Dean and Sam just about choked on their food.

"What is that?!" I screeched, pointing to the unmoving pillow. Dean was red in the face as he fought to not die on his food. He couldn't even form words he was laughing so hard. "Sam, go get it!" I ordered, refusing to move until I knew the demon thing was gone. When Sam didn't move, I barked out the order again.

Finally, as Dean was wiping the tears from his eyes, Sam got up and went to the pillow, ready to figure out what it was that was so viciously sent to attack me. Reaching beneath the pillow, Sam's face scrunched up as he wrapped his hand around whatever it was that was there. Dropping the pillow back on the couch, Sam came towards me and opened his hand revealing a little lizard.

"A lizard? You tried to feed me to a lizard?" I barked, leaning away from Sam's hand and walking in a wide circle around him.

"No," Dean coughed, "I tried to feed you a lizard."

Glaring at him, I stomped over to where he sat and snatched up his burger, taking a large bite out of it. Chewing, I slowed and made a face of disgust as my taste buds recognized what it was I had in my mouth. "Ew, this has bacon," I whined before running to the garbage and spitting out the food and scraping my tongue with a paper towel.

Sniffing, I wiped my hand across my nose and looked at the scene in front of us. A scraggly bush. And behind that bush was a cop car with two bored cops leaning against it. Clearly they were swamped with things to be doing. My knees were starting to hurt from being crouched, and I was struggling to not topple over. Sighing, I placed a hand on each of my brothers' knees and pulled myself forward again. "This is dumb. What are they just sitting there for? Don't they have important police things to do?"

Steadying himself by placing a hand on the ground, Sam kept his eyes forward. "I guess the cops don't want anyone else screwing around in there."

Dean shoved my hand off his leg readjusted himself. "Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," he told us as he then twisted his head and looked towards the distance. "I don't believe it," he almost whispered as he smacked my arm, causing me to almost tumble over and take Sam down with me. Twisting in sync with my twin, we looked over and saw that the two guys that Sam and Dean had told me they'd met. They were covered in weird vests and all kinds of tech stuff. I really don't know what the heck it all was. What I do know is they are bad whisperers if Dean heard them all the way over here.

"What should we do?" I whispered as I watched the two boys continue towards the house.

"I got an idea," Dean answered, standing up a little bit and grinning before cupping his hands around his mouth. "Who ya gonna call!" he yelled, causing the cops, and me, to jump.

One of the cops stood up and looked out towards where we were, and then pointed. "Hey! You!" he yelled before he and his partner took off and ran right by us, chasing the two guys.

The cops' voices carried as they continued to chase the boys through the woods, and my brothers then stood up, wiping their hands on their pants and laughing. "Come on," Dean smiled, "let's get in there before those cops get back."

Trying to stand, I wobbled and then started to tip back. Reaching forward, I wrapped my hands in the branches of the bush and pulled myself forward, getting a face full of scratches. "Guys," I whined, struggling to weeble wobble myself straight again, "I'm stuck!"

It took a minute or two before either of them would come over and help me. And of course Dean was too busy taking a picture on his phone, so Sam came to the rescue. Dean is so gonna go down. This is not fair. Why is he so mean? I'm like the nicest person ever. And I mean, come on, why do I gotta get all kinds of beat up since I was like, you know, fighting concussions since that evil blonde chick tracked us all down. Ugh. I hate it all.

Once I was standing straight and had properly thanked my lovely brother, I raced forward and then beat Dean to just outside of the house. Which was perfect, because then I tripped him. Well, I meant for it to be him. It was actually Sam. And oh man, trees do make sounds when the fall in the woods. He stumbled and tried to stay balanced and I really should have been trying to help and apologizing, but I was laughing too hard, and I'm the worst person ever. After catching my breath, Sam tackled me to the ground, making me slam hard against the ground. Dean finally got us to quit, and separated us like little kids – giving us those old scolding looks we used to get all the time. I call stalemate. Rubbing my head, and apologizing to Sam, I followed him into the house.

I had to smack my flashlight against my leg a few times for it to finally switch on as Sam handed me a gun. Ooh, rifles. More power to knock me over. Who doesn't enjoy that? As Sam led the way through the house, Dean stopped and held his light to the wall, staring at it as I passed by him. "Where have I seen that symbol before? It's killing me!" he complained, not moving.

Looking over my head, Sam frowned when he saw Dean just standing there. "Come on, we don't have much time," he pressed, trying to get this over and done with before the cops came crawling back and probably heard us in here. When Dean huffed and gruffed, I went back and tugged on his arm, making him follow us. We can't focus on wall art right now, bro. We'll talk about it later.

The stairs to the basement seemed just about as stable as the rest of the house. Oh man, I thought we might die walking down. I've never heard so many creaks in my life. Practically knocking over Sam as I hurried down them – past experience says move quickly and don't linger on shaky shit – I held up my light and moved to the side, looking for something that could help. We sort of split up and searched and then I turned when I heard Dean say, "Hey Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this," while holding up a jar that had some red gross liquid sloshing around. Is there a finger in there? I don't even want to know.

"What the hell would I do that for?" Sam smartly asked. Who would even contemplate drinking that? So gross.

"I double dare you," Dean continued.

Stepping beside him, I looked into the jar and made a face at the mystery liquid. "Ew, Dean. Put that down. You don't know what or who is in there."

I tried to push his arm down so that the jar was sitting back on the shelf when he grinned and brought the jar right in front of my face. "I'll give you twenty bucks if you take just a sip."

Cringing, I stepped back. "Yeah, you first," I swallowed down the gross taste that was creeping up my throat.

Just as his mouth opened, Dean quick looked toward a cabinet that sat on a nearby wall. A soft bang and rustling was heard inside of it, and we instinctively moved towards it. If that doesn't scream "problemed children" I don't know what does. Both of my brothers stood at the ready, Dean and I holding our guns and waiting for Sam to open the door. At Dean's nod, Sam yanked the door back and Dean's light shone into the face of rats. Jumping next to Sam, I left Dean to fend for himself.

Growling as he dodged the incoming diseases, he looked up at us. "I hate rats!"

Twitching, I had to release the uncomfortable feeling inside of me as I imagined one on my foot. So creepy. Nope. Not my favorite thing in the world.

"I so get why Leah hates those things," I muttered more to myself before looking up at Sam as he asked, "You'd rather it was a ghost?" to Dean.

Meeting our eyes with a serious look and matching face, Dean didn't even nod his head with his response of "Yes." What a weirdo.

I rolled my eyes only to get a weird chill on my back. My eyes widened as I caught Dean looking between Sam and me. Oh my god. That Mordechai guy is behind me. I just know it. Swinging around in unison with Sam, we both raised our guns and aimed. This freaking ghost had an axe! And he was ready to drop it right down on our heads! Ohh, I would love to see you try. Quickly pressing my finger to the trigger, I shot and watched in horror as the round went straight through him and nothing happened. He was still there. I heard the shot of Sam's gun as he unloaded a second time and I followed suit, still surprised to see Mordechai standing there with his axe. A shove to the shoulder sent me to the ground as the yell for me to move covered the last of the guns' echoes and a last shot rang over my head that resulted in Mordechai just swirling away in a cloud of stupid mist. HE WASN'T EVEN GHOST DEAD YET.

"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt!" I yelled from the ground as my eyes stayed locked on the spot he'd just been in and my hands felt at the sore spot on my head.

"I dunno. Come on," Dean barked as Sam quickly yanked me into a standing position and shoved me ahead of him. Oh, too fast. Too, too fast. Now I'm dizzy. "Come on, come on!" Dean continued to yelled, grabbing my arm and throwing me ahead of him to the stairs so we could leave.

Stepping onto the bottom step, I was dizzy but mentally told myself I was fully prepared to run straight up them and through the front door of the house when there was a crash behind me, and a smack to the back of my legs shoved me forward. Face planting on the stairs was not my idea of fun, and neither was pulling myself around to see that my oldest brother was crawling his way out from under the shelves and whatever was in those jars. Looking over the pile that had pushed Dean and I guess essentially me to the ground, my eyes went round as I saw Sam fighting with Mordechai.

"Go! Get outta here!" Sam yelled to us as he struggled with the spirit. His voice seemed louder than I remembered and my brain pounded with the noise that I struggled to push down.

Reaching between the back-less steps, to the ground where my gun had of course fallen, I brushed my finger tips along the barrel. Stretching, it felt like my arm was going to pop out of its socket when I finally managed to scoot it around enough to where I could reach a finger through the loop of the trigger guard and pull it up into my grasp. The same time Dean got far enough out of the debris, he whipped around and raised his own gun to shoot when Mordechai's axe connected with the electrical box behind him and sparks started shooting into the air.

A rough jolt to my arms picked me up and practically carried me the rest of the way up the stairs and through the house in a quick haste. Finally released, we ran through the house until we made it to the boarded up door, and I hit the toe of my shoe against an uplifted floorboard and caused all three of us to tumble through the boards, onto the porch, and down the few steps. There was no time for me to even spit the dirt out of my mouth before four hands wrapped around my arms and threw me to my feet again, shoving my stumbling self forward. "Get that damn thing outta my face," Dean yelled to the two guys from earlier as he shoved me ahead of him.

"Go, go, go!" Sam pushed as he came up beside me and dragged me along the side of him.

I thought I was gonna throw up by the time we got back to the car. Everything was spinning and I just needed a minute to sit down and get my brain to stop moving. My head killed and I felt like I had missed so much of what happened. I crouched against the side of the Impala, placing the crown of my head against the door, closed my eyes, and breathed deeply.

"You okay?" Sam panted, out of breath from the sprint we'd done through the woods.

"What's wrong with her?" Dean chirped from the driver's side of the car.

I waved them off with my hand. " One minute. I'm just dizzy. Hang on," I breathed. This better go away quick.

Staring at my reflection of the bathroom mirror, I inspected the gash that was still healing from when we'd been in Chicago. It was pretty minimal, but that doesn't mean I didn't check on it all the time. Last thing I need is anything like a permanent head wound and permanent dizziness. I have enough problems when I'm fully healthy. My fingers worked their way through my thick hair and lightly ran along the bumps and scabs. It still hurt a little bit, but definitely not as much as before. It was just a throbbing now. Fun stuff. Humming a song to myself, I began cleaning up my mess in the bathroom while my brothers talked back and forth, loud enough for me to hear them.

"What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks."

Sam flipped through the pages of printouts he had from the library, while nodding his head as I walked out of the bathroom, still humming. "It does," he told Dean without even looking up.

I smirked and went on the hunt for my shoes while Dean continued to doodle in his notepad and Sam opened his laptop up. "That doesn't really make sense though," I rebutted. That's right – rebutted. I've been learning big words. Don't hate. "Mordechai didn't go after me hardly at all. He was definitely more into you guys, so…"

"True. So that explains why he went after Sam, by why'd he go after me? And why not you?" Dean questioned looking both serious and sarcastic.

Rolling my eyes, I dropped to my knees and searched the floor under the couch for my shoes. "Maybe it's your soft feminine eyes," I joked. Damn it, my shoes weren't there either. I did wear shoes today, right? I'm pretty sure we got back and I kicked them off almost immediately. What the hell.

"All right, which of you did this?" came Sam's voice from the table as I crawled over to the little dresser and searched under it for my footwear.

"Did what?" Dean and I asked at the same time, both fully absorbed into our own things.
Turning his laptop so that the screen faced us, Sam cleared his throat and glared at me. Looking at the background, I tried to hide my blatant laughter. There was a rabbit on his screen, but its head was Sam's face, and it was chewing on something green. Large black letters read Veggie Muncher along the bottom of the screen. "Bec?"

Leaning back on my shins, I gave him a face. "Why would you just assume that was me that did that? How do you know Dean didn't turn you into a bunny rabbit?"

"Because all of my icons are pictures of food, and eight of them read Gift Ideas for Becca," he explained. Damn it.

Standing up, I walked over and stared at the screen I'd tampered with earlier during his shower. There were like, seven different kinds of pizzas sitting as icons on his desktop. "Hey, just because this one has that stupid laundry bear for an icon and says Satan for the name doesn't mean it was me."

Turning the computer back to face him, Sam grumbled and tried pulling up the internet after trying icons that repeated just opened up giant pictures of my face. He totally loves me, obviously. That's devotion. I watched as Sam clicked on the pizza slice that read They Deliver and laughed out loud when music started to play and Busty Asian Beauties popped up. "Oh, dude, you can't watch porn with your sister in the room," Dean groaned, his eyes dragging over to mine and Sam's faces.

Why in the hell did Dean hear that music and already know what site Sam was on? These are things I do not want to know. "Oh, gross, Dean," I whined as I instinctively wiped my hands on my jeans like they were dirty. "Guys, do you know where my shoes are?"

No one answered as I continued to dig around the bags in search of my shoes. Those suckers didn't just walk off by themselves. What the heck. First it was my pants, and then two shirts, then my blanket, and now my shoes. Where the hell is all my crap!? Muttering to myself as I continued to search, Sam sighed and I think finally found whatever he was looking for on his computer. "So anyway, the legend also says that Mordechai hung himself, but did you guys see those slit wrists?"

"No," I answered while Dean said "Yeah." "How did you guys have enough time to see his wrists? Were you in the same building as me? How did you catch that?"

"How did you not?" Sam nearly gasped.

"Because we were being attacked, you weirdo. I was kind of in the 'stay alive' mentality. Seriously, though, my shoes?"

Sam went back to his computer as Dean just leaned forward and stared at the pad in his hands. "So what's up with this? And that axe, too?" Sam went back to Mordechai. "I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?"

Dean grunted as I shoved his feet aside and looked under the bed. "But this mook keeps changing."

Going back to humming my song from earlier, I smiled when I found a boot under the bed and then frowned when I found it was Sam's boot. Damn it. "Exactly, I'm telling ya, the way the story goes… wait a minute," Sam jumped, pulling his laptop closer.
"What?" I sighed, giving up on the shoe thing. One of these jerks knows where all my crap is.

"Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site. Listen to this. 'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity'."

Reading the entry over his shoulder I frowned. That makes no sense. You can't just change local legends like that. That's not how it works. These things gradually change, slowly, with generations – but they're usually the same kind of deal. You don't get to just rewrite history over night. The ringing of And you know that I will not apologize. You're mine for the taking. I'm making a career of evil. I'm making a career of evil blaring frommy phone pulled me from my thoughts, causing me to yelp in surprise. Picking it up from the table in front of the couch, I hummed along with tune, it took me a few minutes of staring to realize that it was an alarm I couldn't remember setting. Why would I have set that alarm? Crap. What was I supposed to do? Damn it. Where were my shoes?

"Where the hell is this going?" Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair and shoving a hand towards the screen. Man, you could tell that guy was frustrated by all of this. You think you're frustrated now, bucko? Try having an alarm you don't remember setting or what it's alarming you of, and lost shoes, because I am living the struggle right now.

"I don't know, but I think I might have just figured out where it all started," Dean suddenly announced as he stood and threw the note pad back onto the bed. "Come, let's go," he motioned as Sam closed the computer and packed up and Dean started heading out towards the car.

Watching them just get ready to move, I clicked off the alarm and stuffed my phone in my pocket "Guys!" I called, causing both of them to look back at me like I just stopped a huge thing. "I need shoes!"

The door clanked closed behind us as I brought up the rear of our short line into the record store. Dean pointed to a bin and I began rifling through it for the record he'd told me about back in the car. "Hey Craig?" he called out, moving forward with Sam. "Remember us?"

I looked up and watched through my lashes as Craig slapped a hand to the counter he was sitting behind. His eyes were dark and his hair was very unkempt as he slouched. Someone is not having a good day. "Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?" he sighed. His voice was rough but quiet. Something was definitely up.

Dean stopped walking and stuck his hands in his pockets. Ten bucks says he's smiling and tipping his head. He's so cocky right now it's not even funny. "Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all." Finding the album that Dean had told me to, I walked over and handed it to him as I watched Craig. "You know," Dean spoke to me and Sam as he looked over the tracks of the album and walked to the counter, "I couldn't figure out what that symbol was. And then when your phone went off, I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Öyster Cult." Flipping the album around, Dean held it up for Craig to see. "Tell me, Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Now why'n't you tell us about that house… without lying through your ass this time," he slid the album onto the counter and gave Craig the 'please mess with me, I'm begging you' eyes that were very often reserved special for me.

Craig's eyes bounced back and forth between the three of us before he took the album in his hands and sighed. "All right, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, 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 walls, some from some albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we… we made up some story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. Then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but… now that girl's dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear."

By the time his story ended, Craig's voice was about ready to crack. I knew immediately that he was telling the truth. He'd only meant it to be a prank. Who knew that it would blow up as quickly as it did. If you ask me, those two website dorks are the ones to blame. They just threw the legend up there without research or looking into the story on their own. I don't understand how this freaking spirit exists then though, because if the story was made up, what's that thing in the house?

Sam's soft voice brought me out of my thoughts as he told Craig "all right" and we turned to leave. "Guys," I questioned, scrunching up my face, "If the story isn't even real, how does Mordechai even exist?"

Neither of them answered, but both tightened their jaws as the door opened. Jumping when my phone started to vibrate and ring in my pocket, I cursed when I saw it was yet another alarm. That's like the fourth one. What the hell? Where were these even coming from!? I thought I cleared all the alarms on my phone after the last one on the way here. I still don't even know what they were alarming me for! I'm gonna have to get Sam to look at this or something.

Sitting back up on my knees from where I had been looking under the bed, I groaned as Dean entered the room. "Hey, I'm back," he called out loud enough for Sam to hear in the bathroom.

"Hey, where were you?" Sam's voice came from the other side of the door as the water shut off.

"Oh, I went out," Dean yelled back. "What are you doin'?" he questioned me as he started to mess with Sam's clothes that were lying on the bed.

"I lost another shirt. I don't even know how I lost it, because I'm pretty sure it was in my bag. But now it's not, and I'm running out of clean clothes," I explained, standing up and huffing. "And I still haven't found my shoes."

"Wait, you lost my extra boots?" he questioned, stopping whatever he was doing and looking at me, totally ready to yell.

I watched as he held Sam's underwear at the ready, preparing to do something to them. "No. Yours are by the door. And not that they aren't just fabulous, but they're gigantic, and they're cutting into my legs and hurt my feet. I want my shoes."

Satisfied with my answer, Dean began dumping some sort of powder into Sam's underwear. He smirked as my phone alarm went off yet again. "I thought you had Sam fix that," he told me as I went to shut it off – again.

Growling at the phone, I clicked the off button on the alarm. "I did. He said I shouldn't get any more alarms, but obviously he doesn't even know what he's talking about." Closing the phone and laying it back down on the table I then turned to the bathroom and yelled, "BUT I DON'T THINK HE COULD UNSET AN ALARM IF HIS LIFE DEPENDED ON IT!"

Sam's voice quickly followed from the other side of the door. "Hey Becca, you know what? Bite me!" Dean chuckled as I stuck my tongue out at the closed piece of wood. "So anyway, I think I might have a theory about what's going on," Sam then called out.

"Oh yeah?" Dean pressed, continuing to dump whatever was in his hand all over Sam's underwear.

Walking over, I took the pack from Dean's hand as he went back and situated Sam's clothing. Itching Powder. Oh Jesus. Dean attacked the mister business. Now it's getting personal. "What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?" Sam asked loudly.

"Tulpa?" I called back, peering into the small packet to see how much Dean had used. All of it. Oh man, Sam is gonna have some itchy mister parts.

The bathroom door opened and Sam started walking into the room. "Yeah, a Tibetan thought form," he explained.

Dean spun around quickly, blocking me from view as I did my best to hide the packet. "Ahh, yeah, we know what a Tulpa is. Hey, why don't you get dressed. I wanna go grab something to eat."

Refusing to take the packet when he quickly walked away to the bathroom and looked at us with a smile on his face, Sam looked at me, where I had the packet behind my back. He raised an eyebrow and just stared. My brows furrowed before he used a hand to indicate to his bare chest that was still wet. "Oh gross, you're naked. Okay, I'm gonna go outside and see if my crap is in the car." Spinning and almost sprinting out the door, I side stepped to the table as my phone's alarm sounded again.

I'm so freaking taking the battery out of that thing.

"There you are, miss," the guy behind the counter of the restaurant told me as he set the last of the three coffees down.

Smiling, I went to thank him when Dean's hand shot out in front of me to lay claim to the coffees. "Thanks," he bit quickly with a hard face as his eyes ran up and down the guys' body. Taking two coffees, Dean turned to head over to Sam while he looked at me with a confused face. I shook my head and mumbled out an apology before collecting my own coffee and dropping a dollar in the tip jar while Dean barked out my name with very watchful eyes. Waiting a few feet away, Dean kept his eyes behind me as I finally reached him. "I don't like that guy."

"You don't like any guy," I sighed before directing us towards the table Sam found.

"No, I don't like a guy who looks at like that. With those creepy…molester…seduce you eyes."

Rolling my normal eyes, I set my coffee on the table. "Really? I thought you'd like his blue eyes. And he wasn't even looking at me like that, anyway. And even if he was, I'm a big kid now. A whole whoppin' twenty-three. I can have people look at me how ever I want them to, and I can look at them however I want to."

Dean slid the coffees onto the table and gave me a disapproving face and scowl. "If I see you looking at people like he was looking at you, I will personally kick your ass. Sam, what's your problem over there? You're twitching like a freak."

I shifted my glance to my twin to see him grabbing himself and adjusting his pants. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Nothing, I'm fine," Sam groaned back with an upset face. He is totally not fine. That itching powder must be a pain.

"You sure you're okay? You look like you're in pain," I winced as he twisted his body around on the stool.

"Yeah," he snipped quickly, meeting my eyes. No, those are definitely your pained eyes. I will never put itching powder in underwear. That looks awful.

Sensing Sam's frustration, Dean relaxed and smiled as he watched Sam continue to suffer. "So, ahh, all right keep going. What about these Tulpas?"

Continuing to situate and resituate himself on the seat, Sam explained what he'd found. "Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. Group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air."

Dean didn't look convinced. "So?" he spoke before bringing his coffee to his lips.

Sam looked not only frustrated and annoyed but straight up pissed. "That was twenty monks. Imagine what about ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now –"

"Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard!" I finished, understanding what he was saying. Holy crap. "This thing sprung up out of thin air! Imagine how many other things there are in the world like that! I mean, freaking, Mordechai, probably something else, Dean for sure. That's crazy!"

"Now wait a second," Dean argued, shooting me a glare and threatened a smack. "Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

Fidgeting and wincing, Sam groaned before forcing out a, "I dunno, maybe."

I couldn't speak as I watched Sam struggle. He was a site man. I didn't know whether to laugh or tell him what happened. He managed to get his laptop out and open, loading up some pages as he squirmed. "People believe in Santa Claus – how come I'm not getting hooked up every Christmas?" Dean spoke, an almost sincerity in his tone.

"'Cause you're a bad person," Sam immediately spoke. I couldn't help it. I laughed and offered up a high-five. That was a good one, and so accurate, too! After clapping his hand against mine and putting on a small smile, Sam grabbed his laptop and spun it around to show us. "And also because of this. That's a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house," he pointed. "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 HellHounds 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."

My eyes searched the page as I studied the symbol. I was finding this whole Tulpa thing to be fascinating. Mordechai exists solely because people believe in him. Could you imagine how many other things in the world existely only because we think they're real? What if every monster was like that? What if people were like that? It's crazy amazing. "That would explain why Mordechai is able to keep changing," I answered Sam with a smile as I caught his eyes over the laptop.

His face fell as he went back to fidgeting. "Right," he grimaced, "as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work."

"Because he's not a traditional spirit," Dean spoke, watching Sam struggle.

"Yeah," he sighed, pulling at his pants.

Dean fought a grin as he sipped from his coffee and cleared his throat. How can he enjoy watching Sam? This is torture for me. And now I think I'm having sympathy itches. "Okay. So why don't we just… uh… get this spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?"

Scrunching up my face, I slowly tore my eyes away from Sam and looked at Dean. "Just how easy do you think that is going to be? Do you know how to just make a bajillion people stop believing in this thing? Because I don't."

"It's not that simple," Sam sighed, doing this weird sway thing on the stool. "You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own."

I drank some coffee as Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair before leaning against the table. "Great," he gruffly complained. "So if he really is a thought form how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"

I gently set the paper cup on the table and chuckled to myself, earning two pairs of curious eyes. "I was just thinking that I've come up with quite a few ideas of how to kill you guys. That's all."

"You fantasize about killing us?" Sam quipped, spinning his laptop back around to face him and lifting his eyebrows.

"Oh yeah, like you've never thought about ganking the little shit," Dean teased as he playfully kicked my foot.

Sam began to openly itch at his problem and looked like he was actually running through a few ideas as we spoke. You better tell me what these ideas are, Sam, or I will send so many clowns after you. "Well, either way, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their home page," he told us before spinning the screen back around.

Clicking the play icon thing, the footage that these two got played. What a bunch of boobs. Even I'm better at this than they are. They could actually benefit from me giving them lessons. That's how pathetic this all is.

"Since they've posted the video their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone," Sam explained after the video ended.

I almost spit out my coffee. "Are you serious? These guys are that popular? What the hell? Why? Comedy? That I could see. People cannot actually believe anything on this site. Even I don't believe this site, and I believe a lot of bull crap things." All of us sat there, mulling over how we could fix this, and all I could come up with was bullying these guys into taking the story down. How else do you get nerdy kids like that who have probably never even seen a pair of – "BOOBS!" I yelled, my hand going to my own set. "That's it! Grab your crap, I have a plan," I ordered, grabbing my coffee and quickly stalking off towards the door.

"Where are we going?" Sam called behind me as I heard him collecting his things.

"A copy store!" I yelled, barely turning my head around to answer him, feeling like a complete genius as I stepped into the warm sun.

"You are not copying your boobs, Becca!" Dean's voice bellowed before the door shut and I stopped listening to anything it was he had to say. I don't really care what he has to say. I have a plan, and I am going to rock it. And boobs will be involved.

"I'm telling you that this isn't gonna work," Dean huffed as we climbed out of the car.

I'd decided that the only way for the two nerdy guys to actually change what it was they were putting on their site – was if we lie and convince them to. And who better to do that job, than me? That's right, no one. I mean, I'm cute, I'm adorable, I've got some killer boobs, and I'm gonna bat my lashes at these guys like there is no tomorrow. They will be falling for me in a manner of seconds. "Yeah, well, I'm telling you to shut up. You don't know it won't happen."

The doors all slammed shut to the car and we began walking through the park. "What makes you so sure that just because you come up some crazy idea that they're gonna listen to you."

"One, because –" I was cut off by my alarm blaring once more. "I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GOING TO BREAK THIS FREAKING PHONE!" I yelled before whipping it out and removing the battery. Shoving the two pieces back into my pocket, I growled and quickly sent a hand through my hair. "Now, like I was saying. This could totally work, because we have very convincing papers thanks to geek boy, and because I have on a tight, low cut shirt for just these purposes. I mean, check 'em out, man, these guys won't even know what I'm saying because they're gonna be so focused on my boobs."

Dean's face was not happy as he pointed a finger at my chest. "Okay, you need to put those away, right now," he instructed wagging a finger between each side of my chest. "And I think Sam and I should handle this. These guys have already dealt with us. They know we know about what's going on in that house."

Looking down and making sure my boobs were perfect in the shirt, I shook my head as I adjusted my top. "No, no way," I answered. "This was my idea. I'm doing it. You can go sit by the sidelines and I'll do it with Sam."

"Becca, I'm telling you -"

"No! You guys left me in the freaking bushes the first time you went in that house, and I haven't really gotten to be a part of this case at all. This was my idea, Dean, either I do it or it's not getting done at all," I bit, giving him a stern, determined face.

Sam turned to face Dean and shrugged. "Come on, man, just let her do it. It could work."

Dean looked from Sam to me and back again. "Fine," he sighed, earning a large grin and bounce from me. I almost hugged him, almost, except his hand went in the air. "And when you're done using your… whatevers on these two bozos, you put 'em away, got it? You don't need those things hanging out in public."

Hanging out? Dude, you can't even see any nips. I'm golden. Nodding my head, I spun on my toe and practically pranced over to the trailer. Standing on the tips of my toes, I rapped on the door, and waited. Nothing. What the hell? I can hear them. I know they're in there. Knocking again, a little louder, there was still no response. Finally, I got annoyed. I tried to be cutesy and adorable, and now you're wasting my time. "Sam, pick me up a few feet, would ya?"

Giving me a face, I indicated for him to grab my waist. The trailer had a large step up, and I couldn't exactly get their attention unless I had the right height. I'm not as flexible as you would think. After Sam gave out a groan, wuss, he lifted me a few feet and I kicked my foot against the door a few sharp times. My twin practically dropped me to the ground in response. Ass.

"Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there," Dean spoke loudly, after someone squealed and then asked who it was. The door popped open and two heads stuck through. "Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging – what a shock."

I made a face at Dean. This wasn't going to be easy if he was mean. Especially to people like these guys. From my experience, you gotta be nice or they run and get scared. And Dean is scary! "Shh!" I hushed him, turning and flashing a smile at the guys in the doorway. "Guys, we need to talk," I said sweetly. So sweetly that the sugar in my voice could have freaking thickened to molasses.

And right on cue, their eyes traveled from Dean, to me, and they seemed a little bit happier. I sure am glad I can bring that sort of joy into people's lives. It's a gift, really. A blessing. "Yeah," the one with a fuzzy head of hair practically tripped over the word as his eyes settled just on my chest. "Um, sorry, guys. We're, ahh," he droned, fully distracted while his partner licked his lips and I just stood there like an oblivious fool with large eyes full of curiosity and hanging on his every word. No matter how dull and boring and tiny those words were. "We're a little bit busy right now," he quickly finished when Sam cleared his throat and came to stand in front of me.

"Okay, we'll make it quick," Dean broke in, an annoyed tone in his voice. It was like watching an upperclassman show is muscle to the weak kid. We get it Dean, you're a tough guy.

"Dean!" I hissed. "Knock it off. I can do this!" I gently moved Sam aside so I could look at the two guys I still didn't know the names to. I am so surprised at how nice I can really be when I need something from people. I think that makes me a tease. Huh… well then. "Guys," I sighed, looking up and giving them my full attention as Sam's fist clenched within my peripheral, "we just need you to shut down your website. No biggie."

This Jew Fro just laughed at me! Like, I think he's crying he's laughing so hard! Shut up! "You know," he finally stopped to look at me with sparkling eyes. Ew, put those away. You laughed, we're not friends any more. "You guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell…"

The short haired one beside Jew Fro leaned further out of the door and eyed me a few times before speaking out of the side of his mouth. "I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright," he almost seemed to whimper.

What a boob. "Aww, stage fright for a big guy like you?" I purred, trying to get him to relax and come to my side. Come on, Stage Fright. You can do it.

"All right, that's enough," Dean grumbled as he stepped forward and Sam removed his coat and draped it over me. This is ridiculous. They're ruining everything. I should have done this alone.

"Why should we trust you guys?" Jew Fro asked.

Pushing past Dean, I stood just in front of Sam who stiffened and I could feel was watching me. "Look, guys," I sighed, trying to just get this over with now. Dean had ruined my flow. I mean, Stage Fright up there had blushed so hard, he wouldn't have done more than nod the rest of the day. "We all know what we saw last night, right? We saw what was in that house –"

"But now thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai," Sam butted in.

Whipping around I clenched my fists and glared at Sam. "Sam!" I hissed. I really thought he'd be on my side about this.

"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 continued, ignoring how upset I was getting.

Seriously, am I just like, not allowed to even participate anymore? The one time I try and take lead in something, and these guys just shove me to the back. I'm literally standing behind both of them. Jew Fro blew off my brothers, which definitely isn't going to help anyone, least of all me. I'm trying to do something here and people are bulldozing me. "Yeah, yeah…" I saw him ready to turn into the trailer.

"Ed, maybe he's got a point, maybe…" Stage Fright responded. He was darting his eyes back and forth between Ed and myself, and I think he could see the plea I was shooting him from my eyes.

"Nope," Ed argued.

"No," his friend seemed to almost question, but stated, slowly convincing himself. This was going downhill faster than I imagined.

"We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth," Ed reminded him, placing a hand on his friend's chest and moving them both inside of the trailer.

Dean's body moved and I could tell he was becoming annoyed. This needed to end, now. These jackasses in this spaceship are too cocky and Dean's far too lost on the 'roids right now to not be a dick. He doesn't really take 'roids, calm down. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now –"

Stepping forward I turned to face Dean. "All right, that's enough!" I barked, freezing everyone from moving. "You're not kicking anyone's ass, got it? The last thing we need is for these shmucks filing assault charges against you. We have enough problems with Mordechai, so control yourself, cave man." I heard a snicker from behind me and quickly spun around, my eyes still dark and angry. "And you two better shut the hell up and listen. Don't try pulling your cocky bullshit with me. I tried to be nice, and you laughed in my face, and now I'm done. You don't know anything about the truth in that house. And now you never will, because you're rude," I pointed to the both of them, "you're a dick," I pointed to Ed who looked taken aback, "and you… well, you're just really lacking in the confidence area. Take control, kid. Don't let him rule you." Stage Fright's eyes shifted to his feet and he seemed to mutter under his breath, like he was trying to defend himself. "But it doesn't matter. Because you know what, I could let my brothers bitch slap the both of you. Hell, they'd probably enjoy it more than anything. Especially because you're still looking only at my chest, Ed," I glared, and I felt Dean step up behind me while Sam reached over and pulled the coat farther up on my shoulders.

Sam's voice cut me off before I could continue. "I thought you were going to tell them that thing about Mordechai," he questioned, his hard eyes still never leaving the guys that were doing their best to prove they weren't staring at the cut in my shirt.

"What's the point," I sadly responded, dropping my hand and giving up. "They're not even willing to listen. There's no way they're gonna help us. Just forget it. Let's just go." I dropped my eyes, and began walking away from Sam, angry that none of this was able to work out. I really had faith in the thing. I should have just done it alone, or not told Dean and only taken Sam. Sam is able to control himself better, and he listens when it comes to this kind of stuff. Sure, Dean listens, but differently.

I got to the Impala, and leaned against the door, waiting for my brothers. I was so done. Whatever, Dean and Sam can just call all the shots on this from now on. What surprised me was that Dean and Sam didn't pounce right there and lay into the guys. Dean lingered longer than Sam, but I think Sam had more anger shooting out of his ears. Just as Sam got in front of me and opened his mouth, a shout of "Whoa, whoa!" sounded from the tin box.

"What'd you say about…?" Ed called, making me perk up, as he bounded down the steps to the gravel and started following Dean.

"Hang on a second here," his friend called out, chasing down Ed.

Before they could even get within a few feet of me and Sam, Dean held up a hand and I saw his head twitch. "Wait… wait," Ed breathed, looking from Dean's face to the papers in my hands.

Stage Fright stood a few feet back, swallowing before he blinked and then stuttered out a "What thing about Mordechai, you guys?"

"I'm telling you right now, either of you two act like dicks to her again, and I don't care if she's here or not, we're gonna kick your asses," Dean threatened, his jaw tightening.

"Dean," I spoke quietly, but with a scolding tone. I couldn't be super pissed off. I mean, he saw it had upset me, and now he was going to fix it. That's his softer side coming out. When he looked at me from the corner of his eye, he lowered his hand and let them pass, staying back to watch the expressions that would show up on my face.

When Ed walked right by Dean as though he wasn't even a predator waiting for his prey to make a mistake, I smiled and Sam chuckled as Stage Fright made a large arc before coming before us. "What did you say about Mordechai?" Ed snipped, but changed his expression when he caught Sam's eyes.

"Don't tell 'em, Bec," Sam instructed, crossing his arms and standing directly beside me so that we were touching. "They don't deserve to know."

My eyes scrunched. "But what if they agree to shut the website down?" I posed, concerned that after we had the second chance, he'd really just let it go like that.

Sam pursed his lips and shook his head, still watching Ed's upset face. "They're not going to do it, you said so yourself. Just forget them. Why don't you just get in the car while Dean and I find out what they do know?"

"No, wait. Wait," Ed nervously laughed. "Don't listen to him, okay?" he placed an arm around my shoulders and stepped me away from Sam. Sam was instantly up from where he was leaning against the car, and I heard his feet on the gravel directly behind us. Ed turned and shot Sam a look before bringing me around in front of him, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "We'll do it. We'll shut down the site. But you have to tell us what you know."

My eyes drifted down to where his hand rested, and I raised a brow. "First of all, don't touch me," I bit, picking his arm up by a few arm hairs and then dropping it. "Second, it's a really big deal. And I didn't exactly have an easy time looking it up. Plus after how you treated me, I don't know that I totally trust you. I think I should reconsider and talk it over with my brothers." Snapping my eyes to Sam, I saw a satisfied smirk on his face. He looked proud, and I suddenly felt more confident. He was giving me my moment, and I was beyond appreciative. "What do you think, Sam?"

"Ah," he dragged, looking to Dean and the trailer and back. "It's a secret. I wouldn't give up any information unless you get their word that they'll shut everything down."

I smiled in return before turning back to Ed. "You heard him," I shrugged.

"You have our word," Ed sneered to Sam, attitude all over him.

"Oh, you don't have to convince me," Sam gave a face riddled with the idea that he wasn't quite sure Ed could do it. "You gotta make her believe you."

Facing me, Ed's eyes ran up and down my body before they lingered on my chest and I cleared my throat. "We'll shut down the site."



"Okay," I smiled, bringing up the paperwork, and handing it over. I watched Ed look over it and his brows formed one as Stage Fright ran so fast to us that he knocked right into Ed. "It's a death certificate," I explained. "From the '30's. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner," I shuffled his paperwork and showed the correct page, "the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

Both Ed and his friend's eyes went round and they stared at me, unbelieving. "That's right," Sam joined, coming to stand in our small group. "He didn't hang or cut himself."

Ed's eyes ran and reran over the papers. "He shot himself?"

Sam nodded, draping an arm over my shoulder. "Yep. With a .45 pistol. To this day they say he's terrified of them."

"Matter of fact," Dean added, not leaving his spot but crossing his arms and keeping his protective gaze on us, "they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds – it'll kill the son of a bitch."

Stage Fright looked like he was gonna pee his pants from excitement before he spun and sprinted back to the trailer, making sure to create a large arc between him and Dean. "Harry. Slow your roll, buddy," Ed was muttering as he, too, spun and walked away without so much as a thank you. "They're gonna know we're excited."

Just as he went to pass Dean, almost no space between them as he practically shouldered him, Ed was stopped by the force of Dean's hand as it grabbed his arm. "Listen up," Dean growled, catching Ed's judging gaze and grabbing the papers from him. "I find out you lied to her, I'll hunt you."

"You mean 'hunt you down'," Ed quipped, eyeing Dean.

"Leave," Dean hissed, shoving the papers back into Ed's chest.

Oh my gosh, you guys, I totally did it.

Sliding back into the seat besides Sam, I wore a smirk. Dean also wore a smirk, but his was because he was successfully pissing off Sam who was working on his computer, trying to put all the icons and such back into the proper whatever he needed. Sucks when a prank lasts FOREVER, huh, alarm boy. That's right! It was Sam's jerk-y self setting my alarm. What a meanie. Thankfully he'd fixed it. Supposedly. Again. Anyway. Dean was pulling on this cord that made this weirdo fisherman start laughing like a freak. It was a bit creepy.

Just as I leaned back and sipped on my water, Sam angrily pulled the cord, stopping the laugh. "If you pull that string one more time I'm gonna kill you."

"Oh I will pay big bucks to see this. Pull the cord. Do it, do it," I pushed, watching Dean.

And he did! He sat there with the straightest face I've ever seen and stared directly at Sam when he pulled the cord. It was like watching a naughty kid in the store. And I was loving it. The laughter barely began before Sam jumped and pulled the cord once more. "Come on, man," Dean laughed, leaning back in his own seat. "You need more laughter in your life. You know you're way too tense."

Sam shot Dean a dirty look, and I couldn't help but laugh. Sam was still super pissed about the fact that Dean had shoved so much itching powder in his underwear. To be fair, the guy did have to take like, three showers to make it all go away. So at least he's clean – for the first time in his life. Ba dum tisk. No? Fine. "Did they post it yet?" I asked Sam, curious to see if Ed and Harry had kept their promise. They were so dead if they didn't.

With an annoyed and jerky spin, Sam shoved the computer in our faces and then stabbed angrily at his salad. Well damn, dude, who knew lettuce was that freaking offensive. "'We've learned from highlyreputable, and attractive, sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms'." Dean gave me a look at the attractive part and I shrugged with a smile. I couldn't help if they liked me and thought I was adorable. "All right. How long do we wait? Because I really wanna kick these guys' asses."

"Oh come on," I sighed. "The one wasn't even that bad. He's like a mouse. It's the cocky one you should punch."

Grumbling, Dean just stared up at that stupid laughing fisherman guy. "We wait long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker. And we owe it all to Becs," Sam smiled, holding up his beer and waiting for me to tap my water to it. I beamed. He was so totally proud of me, and yay!

"Thanks," I smiled, clinking the both of their bottles with my cup. Taking a satisfying sip, I lowered my glass and made a face when Sam started laughing. Dean caught my eye and set his bottle on the table, and then his face went into shock.

"You didn't," Dean broke.

"Didn't what?" I pressed when Sam only started to laugh harder.

He pushed me aside and slid out of the booth. "Oh, I did," he laughed harder, holding up super glue.

My eyes danced back and forth between Dean and Sam, seeing Dean struggling with the bottle that was apparently stuck to his hand. Sam leaned across the table and pulled the cord to the fisherman when loud claps and cheers emitted from behind the diner counter. My face went white when I remembered what I had done. "Happy happy birthday, from all of us to you," the dining staff began to chant as they made their way around the counter and to our table, Sam stepping aside, and continuing to laugh. "We wish it was our birthday, so we could party, too!" they finished, cheering and gaining claps from all around the diner. "And in honor of your birthday! We would like to present you with a slice of pie!" Dean's eyes went round at the large slice placed in front of him, and I think his eyes bugged out of his head.

The group of waiters and waitresses wandered off, and Dean grabbed his fork. Sticking it into the slice, he pulled back a large chunk. "You did this?" he questioned, his hand still awkwardly wrapped around the brown bottle. Nodding, and swallowing, I stood up, ready to leave. Yep, shouldn't have messed with pie when beer had already been tampered with. What's next, I tell him that the bacon on his burger was made from a turkey? Watching him bite the piece of pie, I stood behind Sam. A cough and choking sound came from Dean and he instantly brought the beer to his lips as he coughed around the taste of the pie.

"What did you do," Sam whispered, backing us both up.

"Um, I may have said he has a special taste in foods. Sam, that's not a normal pie. It's beets. I told them he liked beets instead of cherries, because he's a freak. So they made him a beet pie. Oh man. We're gonna die. He looks pissed. Go, go, go, go, go!" I yelled when Dean's angry eyes whipped around and he began to stand up.

Slowly stepping into the house, I held my gun in the air, and my eyes danced around – looking for any sign of Mordechai. After we were sure that the story we had fed to Harry and Ed had sat out in the world long enough, I finally couldn't wait any longer and pretty much decided it was time to go and end this thing for good. Mainly because I couldn't take any more tricks. Freaking, they were hiding my clothes, messing up my phone, and this morning I woke up to find that they had checked out of our room and booked a totally different one. Yeah, that's right. They did that. I woke up to a man screaming about how he doesn't let squatters stay in his motel and if I didn't leave he was gonna call the cops. Apparently the new couple that got the room wasn't too pleased that it came pre-occupied. Dean was dying as Sam looked shocked to see me wrapped in a blanket, hair a mess, and all kinds of "this is not cool and I am up too early" at his door this morning.

I think I gained the right to decide when we got to go see if Mordechai would die for good. So, tah dah, here we were. "Man," Dean snipped from behind me as Sam and I pushed further into the house. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

I snorted as Sam just shook his head and kept his eyes forward, stepping slowly around the room. "I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole," Sam responded.

Aww, hell. I will. "Sounds like even the self-lovin' is starting to cause problems in your downstairs area, Dean. Maybe you should just get it cut off."

The look I got was enough to rival the low chuckle and low-five I got from Sam. Suck it, Dean. Team Twin Attack is back! I don't actually remember if we ever called ourselves Team Twin Attack, but I'm gonna put it forward as of now. We could be the best duo to have ever duoed. I did however get a flashlight beam to the face, so now I'm blind. I guess that's a bonus since I won't have to see Mordechai coming straight for me now. I had to be directed into the next room because I was seeing spots. If I need glasses after this I'm gonna be so pissed.

"So, you think old Mordechai's home?" Dean asked from ahead of me.

"I don't know," Sam responded, still guiding me forward. "But, we've got Becca this time, so if he's still attacking girls, at least we've got one."

"Hey!" I bit at the same time a voice from behind us said, "Good thinking."

We spun around, guns rising and lights shining forward to see a super shocked Ed, holding a camera. Are. You. Shitting me. My eyes narrowed and my brows lowered as I didn't put my gun down. This guy is gonna get us all killed. Freaking out, Ed threw up his hands, shouting out a couple "Whoa"s to let us know he wasn't a threat. I still say shoot him.

"What are you doing!" I hissed, glaring at him.

Sam pushed my hand down so my gun wasn't still pointed at the cocky little guy's face. "You're gonna get yourselves killed," he scolded. He looked angrier than I felt.

I'm pretty sure my deal was that they change the story and we go ahead and fix this mess. Nowhere, in any bi-lines, or like, starred areas, or you know, little foot notes did I say that they could follow us here and film. No, they are going way out of the deal we made. I'm so letting Dean hunt them.

Smirking, Ed slowly lowered his hands. "We're just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?"

What? What is he talking about? Who is going to give these guys anything besides me when I give them a swift kick in the butt? Turning my head, I stared at the basement door where sharp, metallic noises were coming from behind it. It reminded me of when I was little and my dad used to sharpen his knives after we'd gone to bed. It was almost funny how quickly my brothers and I raised our guns back up and were ready. I stumbled forward a bit as Ed and Harry crowded behind us like scared children.

"Oh crap," I heard Ed mutter as he stood beyond close to me and I think he honestly was touching me. Yep, someone was touching me. There is a hand on my arm, and someone is gorilla gripping my shoulder. I have a bubble for a reason, people. I swear to God if the space around me doesn't cool down by about ten degrees in the next four point three seconds I'm gonna go crazy. "Ah guys, you wanna… you wanna open that door for us?" he indicated with a nervous voice.

"You wanna stop touching me?" I growled, causing Dean and Sam's heads to swivel and look. Immediately Ed and Harry's hands disappeared from where they had been touching me, and their bodies moved back a few inches.

Dean's face hardened and his head began to shake. I knew that look. Oh man, someone is gonna die. Before any further moves could be made, the basement door burst open, and Mordechai came at us while screaming and holding his trusty axe. Jumping from the commotion, I screamed back and began pulling the trigger on my gun without a second thought. Emptying the chamber, my voice finally died down and I watched as Mordechai seemed to freeze and then slowly disappear into a cloud of mist. Why is this still not over? A clap on the shoulder told me that Sam was proud before he and Dean took off into other rooms to see if Mordechai had re-vapored or something. I don't know if they're gonna be able to do anything because they emptied their guns, too. So unless we're all packing double – we're screwed. Luckily I'm smart enough to carry an extra clip in my back pocket. Booyah. And people think I'm dumb.

"Oh God," Ed breathed from behind me. "He's gone. He's gone."

Switching the clips in my gun, I turned to face Ed and Harry. They looked both scared and excited, like they didn't know what had just happened. "Did you get him?" Harry questioned, trying to see the camera in Ed's hands.

"Yeah they got him."

"We don't know that for sure. Why do you think they went off to look. You guys need to get out of here. Now," I told them, making sure keep my eyes dancing around the room for any sign of Mordechai coming back.

Neither of them seemed to even acknowledge that I had said something. What, are they deaf? Do they only hear me when it benefits them? How does that work? "No, on camera, did you get him on camera."

Loading the gun so that a bullet sat in the chamber, I stepped up to the both of them. "Did you hear me? You need to go. Mordechai isn't gone. If you don't leave right now –"

"Ah, ah, I…" Ed stammered while looking at the gun in my hand and the angered look on my face.

Harry didn't seem concerned as he yanked the camera from Ed's hands. "Let me see it, let me see it," he huffed, appearing upset.

"No!" I yelled, gaining Ed's attention as Harry took the camera and started messing with it. "You need to go! Before he comes –"

"Sweetheart," Ed interrupted, taking me off guard. "We saw you guys get it. He disa –"

Mordechai appeared directly in front me, his axe swinging through the air and catching the camera from Harry's hands. Harry fell to the ground and I shot towards Mordechai, cursing when he disappeared into a swirl of mist again.

"I told you! I told you to leave, you son of a –" I yelled, yanking Harry up by the arm and forcing him into his friend.

"Hey!" Dean's voice boomed from the side of the room, causing me to jump and squeak. "Didn't you guys post that b.s. story we gave you?" he growled as he took in the room, seeing us all still alive and me not currently killing them.

Ed shoved Harry away from where he'd practically jumped into Ed's arms, and then brushed himself off. "Of course we did," he scoffed.

Sam came to stand beside me, and I looked up to see he was not happy. He looked annoyed and pissed and I know he wanted to know why I'd shot. "But then our server crashed," Harry announced as he bent down to pick up the now destroyed camera.

"Yeah," Ed agreed, taking the camera from Harry's hands.

"So it didn't take?" Dean, Sam, and I all asked at the same moment.

Both guys squirmed under our gaze, muttering unhelpful answers of "uh", "um," and "well…" I'm officially done with the both of them. Freaking I hope Dean runs them over with the Impala.

"So these, these guns don't work," Dean angrily announced, coming further into the room and making Ed and Harry uncomfortable and Sam and I groan. "Great," he huffed after a muttled "yeah" came from one of them. Running a hand through his hair, Dean stopped in front of Sam and I, ignoring Ed and Harry. "Either of you got any ideas?"

Sighing, I looked around. There had to be something. "We're getting outta here," Harry announced when no one spoke right away. "Come one, Ed." Harry then grabbed Ed and they ran past Dean before any of us really knew what they were doing. Following them into the next room, I skidded to a halt and bumped right into them as Mordechai showed up. All three of our screams broke into the air and they left me standing there as they ran towards the front door.

Fumbling with my gun, it stuck and I couldn't get a bullet into the chamber.

"Crap, crap, crap!" I whined, trying to force a bullet.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Harry breathed when the door wouldn't open for them and they turned to see Mordechai coming towards them.

"The power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you," Ed began reciting, hoping that it would work. "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!"

"ED, CHRIST IS NOT COMPELLING HIM!" I screamed at him when a an arm appeared beside me and Sam's voice broke out.

"Hey!" he shouted, coming to stand beside me, preparing for a fight. "Come and get it you ugly son of a bitch."

Mordechai and Sam both moved at the same time, fighting each other. Sam was physically fighting a spirit. Or a Tulpa, or a freaking monster that could vanish into mist like a spirit but was actually something else – I don't know! I moved to try and help my brother, only to get in the middle of the scuffle, shoved and knocked to the ground, my still healing head pounding against the wall and something that had been pressed up against it. A loud slam occurred when Sam was shoved against the wall and Mordechai held his axe to Sam's throat.

Slowly picking myself up from the ground as spots once again broke into my line of site, Sam's voice was echoed and muffled – like I was underwater. I couldn't understand what he was saying as my vision blurred, and I gave up, slipping back down to a mess on the floor. I didn't know what was going on, when suddenly I was up in the air. Heat seemed to swallow me up and everything was a blur of orange. I felt my body shift as my eyes began to slowly droop, unable to stay open against the pain and sudden fatigue. Someone was talking to me, I just knew it – except they sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher; and I never liked her anyway. Besides, sleep. Sleep sounded and felt so good. My head hurt so much. It hurt so much I didn't want to move. I felt warm. Very warm. Too warm. Whatever was making me float in the air was moving, and I didn't mind since it pulled me from the warmth. I was comfortable, but felt weird – like, both tight and and loose and secure and like I could fall, all at the same time. Then I was flat, and cold when whatever had been around me left. And then everything seemed to fade away as the world around me went dark.

Pressure. That's all I felt. Tight, painful, uncomfortable, agonizing pressure – in my head. My body slowly began to move around, my legs dragging on stiff, what I assumed where supposed to have been soft, but were more like, tissue paper, sheets. The thin blanket on top of me was warm, and felt heavy, although as my hand gripped it, I knew it wasn't. A tight hold appeared on my hand, squeezing.

"Sam, stop," I whined, my throat dry. Coughing, I squinted against the bright light that seemed to be burning my eyes. Swatting the air, a Styrofoam container appeared in my hand and a straw was forced in between my lips. I didn't care what was in the straw at that point, I was that thirsty. It was an instant relief that slowly spread through me, and an delighted exhale left my lips, along with the cup.

"How are you feeling?" came Sam's voice from my right.

"What happened?" I croaked. I knew I was in a hospital. The feeling of uncomfortablity while not knowing how to fix it was evident. The IV to my left was to blame. I hate them. I cannot stand the minute that liquid gets pumped through your system. I never know how to react. I feel like I have no control, yet I do, and just don't know what to do. I feel lost and confused and annoyed and I get so frustrated I cry and it's just aggravating is what it is. And that's how I felt now, and I didn't like it.

Then there was a sigh. "You hit your head pretty hard back at the house. You've been walking around with a concussion since Chicago, and the extra force sent you into a small coma –"

"What?" I blurted, instantly regretting it. My head pounded and my chest was rising and falling faster than I anticipated. Coma? Small coma? Comas aren't small! They're huge deals. Like, I could have died or turned into a vegetable and how do I know they wouldn't have pulled the plug – how long have I been laying here? Did I grow a beard? Wait, I'm a girl. We don't usually grow beards. Feeling my face, I sighed, happy that I didn't in fact have a beard. "What do you mean 'small coma'?"

"It's only been a couple days. But you're okay. Bec, you've woken up a few times already, don't you remember?"

I didn't remember. I didn't remember anything. I remembered two seconds ago when I woke up, and that was it. "What?"

Sam didn't look happy. He looked concerned. I don't understand what is going on. I know what a coma is but I just – I feel lost. Why do I feel lost. "Hang on," he sighed, standing up.

"No," I coughed. "Please." I just needed a minute. I knew I could get it. I just needed to organize my thoughts. "Sam, it hurts," I almost whispered, the pain searing through my head.

"I'll get your doctor," he soothed, pressing a button near my hand. "You're okay, Bec. They fixed the swelling and stopped the bleeding, and you're gonna be fine. They said you shouldn't have any real long-lasting damage, other than maybe some balance issues."

Grimacing, I closed my eyes. "I already have balance issues," I answered.

His hand landed on mine once more and squeezed. "You're gonna be okay."

A soft knock on the door sounded and even though my head seemed to acknowledge it, my eyes didn't open. It was a nurse, coming into to check on my vitals and whatever else she had gone on about. I didn't pay close attention. I just breathed, wishing the pain would stop. Eventually she injected something into my IV and I slowly began to feel it spread throughout me – causing my pain to fade. It was beautiful.

It wasn't fun, but I'd ended up having to stay in the hospital for about a week and a half after I "fully came to" and I was just about going insane. Two days after Sam told me what happened I felt better and wanted to leave. But no, according to Sam this isn't something "that you can just fix with the crap sitting in the first aid. It's a serious problem – and we're gonna be careful." Whatever. And Dean agreed with him. I was annoyed. It wasn't even my fault that I was in here. Freaking Meg was a mega bitch and had her shadow monsters all coming after me and trying to kill me, and then I got Tulpa's all throwing me into things. Why's it always gotta be me?

Eventually Sam had told me that Ed and Harry went off to Cali or somewhere that would equally laugh in their faces, in search of a fake offer for a movie or something. If I ever run into or get touched by those two again, I'm gonna punch someone in the jugular. Do you know how many tests I had to have done? And how many needles had to get stuck inside of me? All because those two douchenuggets freaking wouldn't listen when I told them to? Freaking I swear to God. I was full blown ready to let both of my brothers go track those assholes down and let them know they were dead. Dean was all for it, and so was Sam for a hot minute. Then some fancy pants in scrubs said I was getting worked up and too much brain whatever blah blah blah I was annoyed.

Dean had been super protective and obnoxious. I mean, he was being Dean – all "hahaha, I'm tough nothing gets to me" like normal, but when Sam left the room you could see although he was uncomfortable, he was watching me like a hawk. He hardly left outside of wherever he went when he disappeared aside of bathroom use and food accumulation. That's right, accumulation. When you have nothing but poker to play and children's coloring books, you learn new words because your twin thinks you need to "extend your vocabulary". Well, he can just sink his incisors and canines into my deriere if you inquire from me. That's right. I just said he can bite my ass. See, my way is simpler.

But, I was finally free. And it was beautiful. The sun was shining, and there was a shiny black car waiting for me like a limo in front of the hospital, and I was ready to drive anywhere. Any place whatsoever. I was sick of lying around. I needed to do something. A case. A marathon. Well, maybe not a marathon, but something. And it was going to be great.