We were back at Craig's music store. Craig was sitting at the counter, looking depressed.
"Hey, Craig. Remember us?" Dean called over.
"Guys, look, I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions, okay?"
"Oh, don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all."
Dean began flipping through one of the containers of records until he found the one he was looking for. He talked to Sam and I as we walked over to the counter.
"You know, I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, then I realized that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult."
He turned to address Craig as we came to a stop.
"Tell me, Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outa people? Now, why don't you tell us about that house... without lying through your ass this time."
Craig's eyes strayed to me, and Dean snapped his fingers to draw his attention back to him.
"No. You don't get to look at her. The house. Now."
Craig sighed, nodding sadly.
"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 some symbols on the walls, some from albums," he gestured to the BOC album in Dean's hand, "some from Dana's theology textbooks.
"Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we... we made up a story to go along with that. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I, 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!"
"All right," Sam spoke softly, nodding.
We turned to leave, and Dean lowered his voice to hiss at me and Sam.
"If none of it was real, how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"
⁘
Dean came into the room while Sam was in the shower. He lifted a finger to his lips, crossing over to where Sam's clothes laid on one of the beds. I smirked as he pulled out a little packet labeled 'itching powder' and began dumping it into the clothes.
"Hey, I'm back!" he yelled to Sam while he worked.
"Hey, where were you?" Sam called back.
"I went out!"
I giggled a little, and Dean winked over at me.
"So, Ellie and I might have a theory about what's going on!"
"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked.
"What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?"
"Tulpa?"
Sam emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a towel around his waist.
"Yeah, a Tibetan thought form," I said.
"Ah, yeah, I know what a Tulpa is," Dean said, hiding the packet from Sam's view. "Hey, dude, why don't you get dressed? I wanna grab something to eat. Ellie, you hungry?"
"I could eat," I nodded.
Sam walked over, grabbing the clothes and disappearing back into the bathroom.
"You realize you could get in on this if you wanted," Dean hissed quietly at me.
"Nah, I think I prefer being a spectator," I grinned.
⁘
Long story short, there was a Tibetan spirit sigil painted on the wall of the house that was used to concentrate meditative energy for centuries. Mordechai was real because people believed he was. Sam was uncomfortable and fidgeting the entire time we were out eating. He thought he might be allergic to the soap in our room before he realized it was Dean pranking him again. After stopping so Dean could make copies of stuff, we headed to the trailer park where Ed and Harry were staying.
Following a script that Dean had come up with for us, we tricked them into agreeing to shut down the website. We gave them a fake death certificate and told them that Mordechai actually committed suicide by shooting himself with a .45 pistol, and that he was still terrified of them to this day. And if you shot him with one loaded with special wrought iron bullets, it would kill him. While we waited for them to update the website, we headed to a small café.
We were sat in a booth and there was one of those 3-D pull string things of a fisherman holding a big fish. Sam was staring at his laptop while Dean amused himself by pulling the string on the fisherman. When he did, the fisherman's mouth opened and an extremely annoying laugh played. I was even snickering at it a little, but Sam had had enough of it.
"If you pull that string one more time, I'm going to kill you," he told Dean.
Staring at Sam with a deadpan expression, Dean reached up and pulled the string. I was cracking up then as Sam quickly pulled the string a second time to stop it.
"Come on, man, you need more laughter in your life," Dean snickered. "You know you're way too tense."
Sam just glared across at him, and he sighed.
"Have they posted it yet?" I asked.
Sam moved the laptop around so Dean and I could see it, stabbing at his salad angrily.
"'We've learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock has a fatal fear of firearms.' All right. How long do we wait?"
"Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on this sucker."
Sam lifted his beer, holding it out to Dean and I smirked. Dean lifted his own beer, tapping it against Sam's. They both drank and I bit my cheek to stop myself from laughing. They both went to set their beers down, but they were stuck to their hands.
"The hell?" Sam asked.
"How-" Dean started, before turning to me. "You didn't."
"I did," I laughed, pulling a bottle of super glue out from under the table for them both to see.
"Ellie!" Sam cried.
"I thought you said you preferred being a spectator!" Dean said.
"I lied," I laughed again.
The boys both frantically shook their hands, trying to get the bottles unstuck as I reached over to pull the string on the fisherman again.
YOU ARE READING
Dawson's Daughter | {BOOK 1}
Fanfic-BOOK 1 IN THE DAWSON'S DAUGHTER SERIES- ___ She was just a supplier's daughter. But not just any supplier. James Dawson, a name loved and respected both in her home town, and in the hunting community. They were her best friends until they stopped c...
