Revenge of The Fallen (Crossover)

The Call

Dean's eyes jolted open as he heard a faint ringing sound coming from the nightstand. "You better get that." His brother Sam teased, smirking as he finished making his bed. Dean groaned, rubbing his eyes and lazily grabbing his phone. He got up, walking to the other side of the hotel room, and pushed the answer button. "Hello?" He asked in a groggy voice.

"Hi, is this Dean Winchester?" A male voice at the other end of the line responded. He sounded scared, and a little desperate.

"Yeah, how did you get this number?" Dean inquired as he looked back at his brother in confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I got it from a friend who, got it from a friend." The voice answered, then continued. "Anyways, my name is Pete Wentz, and this is gonna sound crazy, but-"

"Oh, don't worry, crazy's kind of my middle name." Dean interrupted, hoping to break the tension. The voice chuckled lightheartedly, then went on.

"I think my friend is possessed." He finally admitted, his breath shaking on the other end of the line.

Dean perked up. It wasn't anything he and his brother hadn't dealt with before, it was just strange, considering there had been no omen sightings recently. "Okay, we'll be right there. Where are you?" He asked, grabbing a pen and paper to write down Pete's response.

"What is it?" Sam asked after Dean finished writing the address down and ending the call. "A guy named Pete Wentz. Says his friend is possessed." Dean responded as he got himself ready to go. "Huh. Pete Wentz, I know I've heard that name before, I just can't place it." Sam commented, furrowing his brows.

"That doesn't matter. We gotta go." Dean brushed the comment aside and put on his jacket, grabbing the car keys. Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, getting up to grab his own jacket and follow Dean out the door.
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The California sun shone brightly as they pulled up to the house. It was pretty nice, the walls finely painted and the windows kept clean. The lawn was freshly mowed and the front porch was neat and tidy. Both Sam and Dean wondered how anyone could afford such a nice house as they got out of the car.

There was a bit of tension as Dean rang the doorbell. They both seemingly wondered if it may be a trap, since neither of them knew how Pete could have gotten Dean's number. The door opened, and a petite female was standing at the door. She had curly black hair and beautiful dark brown eyes. Her expression seemed shaken and her eyes seemed frightful, but not of either of the men standing before her.

"Hello, can I help you?" She asked, putting her hand on her hip. Sam and Dean were caught off guard, as they both expected to see a man at the door.

"Oh, sorry. My name's Dean Winchester. This is my brother Sam." Dean replied a little awkwardly. "We're looking for a Pete Wentz."

Her tone seemed to relax. "Oh! Yeah, he's here!" She responded, then turned to call out to him. "Pete! Those private investigators are here to see you!" She called, then turned back to Sam and Dean. "You are the private investigators, right?" She asked.

Again, both of the brothers were caught off guard. They raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other in surprise. "Yeah, yeah we are!" Sam answered with a smile, trying to make it sound like he was telling the truth. Dean agreed by nodding.

The woman could tell that something was off, but seemed to roll with it as a man approached the group. He was wearing a grey tank top and was scratching his messy black hair. His whiskey brown eyes looked sad, and almost paranoid, but he tried to perk up as he greeted the two brothers. They were both almost a foot taller than him.

"Oh, hey, you're Sam and Dean, right?" He asked a bit cautiously. 

"Yeah, and you're Pete Wentz, I presume?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"Yeah, come on in.
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The inside of the house was just as nice as the outside. Everything looked like it was always kept neat, and the house gave off a warm, friendly aura. The brothers sat down on a sofa facing the back wall, and Pete sat on a matching armchair facing the sofa. The woman stopped herself, however. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Elisa, I'm Patrick's wife."

"Patrick?..." Dean asked, as neither of them had introduced him to the brothers.

"My friend." Pete clarified in a shaky voice. Both Elisa and Sam looked at him with sympathy; they could see he was in pain.

"Can I get you guys anything? Some water, maybe? Or coffee?" Elisa offered.

"Have any beer?" Dean asked, smirking just a little.

"Dean!" Sam scolded, thinking it was very rude to be asking that when these nice people are in such a state.

"What?!" Dean recoiled, not picking up on his brother's concerns.

Elisa giggled a little. "I'm sorry, but no. There's a baby upstairs and Patrick didn't want anything like that influencing our son's childhood."

Dean nodded in response. "I understand. Well then, would you like anything, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, and Dean turned back to Elisa. "Then no, thank you."

"Alright. I'll be upstairs, so you guys can talk." She stated, then left quietly.

There was a half smile on Pete's face. "She's a good friend." He said, sadness in his voice. "Patrick was too."

Dean, and especially Sam, nodded, acknowledging his pain. They both knew what it was like to lose someone you care about.

"So, how did you find out?" Dean finally asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

"Well, Patrick had been missing for about a week. Neither Joe, Andy, our band mates, nor I had heard from him. He wasn't calling or texting or emailing any of us back. It was really unlike him. I was getting really worried and anxious, and my depression was just shitting on me. But everything changed last night."

"What happened last night?"

"I saw him again."