Secrets Will Kill You The Sequel

+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Brit and I were in the truck behind the boys on the road and it was dark out. “So…what’s up with this job? I mean I know it’s worth checking out since the guy suffered a head-on collision in a parked car but I mean, we kind of have bigger problems at the moment” she said.

“I think the apocalypse will still be there when we get back” I replied.

“I’m just saying…if the colt really is out there somewhere and if we’re gonna ice the Devil…”

“Brit, we’ve been looking for three weeks for that damn thing and this is just what we’re saying…” I said matter-of-factly.

I noticed she was staring out the window. “It’s just, this is our first real case all together and I think it might be best we just ease into it, put the training wheels back on” I suggested.

“You think Sam and I need training wheels”

“No. We need training wheels. All four of us…you and me. As a team…alright? A fresh start. It’ll be good for all of us”

I glanced from her to the road. She turned to look at me and the atmosphere changed, it was altered. “Alright” she agreed. “Alright” I nodded with a sighed.

“Hey, I know I’m in no position to ask for a favor…” I could tell she was about to start babbling. “Go ahead. Shoot” I said with a tone that let her know I was being open minded.

She paused as I felt her analyzing me. “Well…do you think you can do something about Dean?”

I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…like if you see him treating Sam…a certain way…”

“Like a way that you think I would be treating you right now” I assumed.

She paused. “Yea…why aren’t you treating me like that?” she wondered.

I shrugged. “I want to be…and you and I both know I have every right to be…but I just cant…not right now anyway. Like I said…I want to ease into our first case back together with an easy start…and I’ve missed you to be honest, those days without you and Sam was so weird, it threw everything off balance…”

“So…you’ll talk to Dean about the way he’s treating Sam…or the way he might start treating him…intervene maybe…?” she asked, timidly.

I hesitated. “Yea…I’ll talk to him” I nodded. She sighed a sigh of relief. “Thank you” she replied. I didn’t respond.

Secretly…I wanted Dean to treat Sam like crap…because I blame him for bringing Brit into everything that happened. I don’t blame him for the apocalypse because even though its his and Brit’s fault, they didn’t know…but I blame him for dragging Brit into it. But, if she wants me to defend Sam to Dean…I was willing to try.

By morning, we got a motel room in Canton, Ohio and headed to the sheriff’s department, being FBI agents. Apparently they already booked somebody for the crime: the best friend. They had this video tape that was of the best friend of the victim-Cal-taping what happened to his friend and the police just figured he was a sicko taping his ‘handy work’…just like a cop to screw up a job that should be handled by the real professionals. So, we asked to talk to the guy they locked up and he told us he heard tires squealing and glass breaking and that it was the car that did it. Then, he told us how it was cursed…and how he was talking bout The Little Bastard: James Dean’s car. So, it’s where we are now, in a garage with The Little Bastard. The windshield was bloodstained and there was a piece missing from it but it was still a beauty. Sam wondered if this was like Christine-a book by Stephen King-but Dean stated how that was fiction and this is real.

“Enlighten us” Sam said and I just stared in awe at the car as Dean did the same.

“Well…after James Dean died, his mechanic bought the wreckage, and he fixed it up and it repaid him by…” I started.

“Falling on him“ Dean finished for me. “And Tony McHenry was killed when it locked up on the racetrack” he added.

“I mean, death follows this car around like exhaust. Nobody touches it and comes away in one piece” I said. “Hm” Brit and Sam responded.

“Then, in nineteen-seventy, it vanished off the back of a truck. Nobody's ever seen it since. I'm telling you, man, if this…if this car is Little Bastard, I will bet you dollars to donuts it's what killed the guy” Dean said.

“So how do we find out?” Brit asked.

“Cal matched the VIN number, but the only real way to know is the engine number”

“I'm guessing the engine number…” Sam started. “Yea…on the engine” I said.

Sam and Dean took off their jackets so they were just wearing they’re ties and white shirts and Dean was going to slide under there and get the number but he was fidgeting a little.

“Will you do it?” he asked me.

“Me? Why do I have to do it?”

“Because you’re a girl, maybe it wont hurt you”

“Yea, maybe. Stop being a baby and get down there” I said and he scowled at first…but then I looked into his eyes as he started to smirk.

He found my sentence dirty. I just rolled my eyes and smacked him upside the head. He chuckled and took a step forward, taking a deep breath. “Okay, baby. I'm not gonna hurt you, so...don't hurt me” he said and laid down on the roller board with a pencil in his mouth and a piece of paper in his hand.

He slid under slowly and I just heard him lay there so I got on my hands and knees and looked at him while he stared up at the car. “Hey, need a flashlight?” I smirked.

He jumped slightly. He gave me a hard stare with wide eyes. “Go. Away” he said, slowly and sternly.

I laughed as I stood again. “Is he okay?” Sam asked.

“Yea…just don’t speak…actually don’t even look at her, she might not like it” I said and got them both to turn around.

After a few seconds, Dean got out from under the card and we turned back around to face him. He handed Sam the piece of paper. “Find out who owned it. Not just the last owner, you gotta take it all the way back to nineteen-fifty-five”

“That's a lot of research, Dean” Sam informed him.

“Well, I guess I just made both of your afternoons” he addressed him and Brit.

I smirked and the two of us started walking away with Brit slightly jaw dropped and Sam just stared at us.

A few hours went by and Dean and I were at a bar while Brit and Sam were at the motel, researching. Dean was on one side of the bar, flirting with some waitress and I was on the opposite side, flirting with some bartender. Told him I was a model and I even showed him a fake ID that told him I was a legit model. I don’t even know if models really need ID’s to tell people they’re actual models but this guy didn’t know shit. He gave me a free beer, on the house, and I gave the guy a fake number to seem like I was really into him and then I walked away, swaying my hips a little…I really just wanted the free beer. I felt him watch me. When I turned my head and saw he went back to work, I walked over to Dean when the waitress walked away. I sat next to him on a stool at the bar.

“So…I’m an uderwear-wearing model today, what are you?” I asked.

He chuckled. “An agent seeking natural talent” he mocked a little.

I laughed. “You give her your number?”

“A fake one…we agreed to not giving them real numbers…” he hissed with his hard eyes on me.

I laughed a little more. “Mine was fake too. Calm your hormones” I joked and took a sip from my beer.

We did this occasionally if we wanted to try and score free drinks. Sometimes, it was even a competition to see who could get a free drink and who couldn’t and to see how many and which ones we could get. It’s actually more amusing than it sounds. He lightened up and chuckled under his breath.

“Ya know, our relationship is the most dysfunctional relationship I’ve ever seen”

"Yea, well…we’re the most dysfunctional people I know”

“Good point”

We sat in a comfortable silence. “I need to talk to you about something” I started.

“Like what?”

“Well…we’re working our first case being back together with Brit and Sam and I just want to make sure you…keep your cool” He gave me a look. “Brittney wanted me to bring it up…but…”

“I’m not talking about this”

“But, Dean…”

“No, Melissa” he said, sternly.

I just sighed and rolled my eyes as I sipped some more beer. I’ll let it go for now…but we were going to talk about it whether he liked it or not.

His phone started to ring. I knew it was Sam but I didn’t feel like listening to his side of the conversation, so I settled for Dean’s side. “Yo…any of 'em die bloody?…no, we’re…we’re in a restaurant…that happens to have a bar” he said and I just shook my head, smirking.

But, apparently the car’s first owner was a cardiologist in Philadelphia and he drove it until he died in nineteen-seventy-two…so in other words: the car we inspected earlier is a fake Little Bastard. Which leaves us pondering the question: what killed the guy?

The next day we got to another crime scene where police were walking around, investigating and we met up with the officer we talked to yesterday, Carnegie. He was still convince nothing strange was going on…even though this time, a man died from a gunshot wound to the head but there was no gun, no gunpowder and no bullet to prove it. Carnegie’s theory is that this is the work of a professional killer from CIA or NSA or something…he definitely wasn’t going to be helping us get anywhere with our case so we walked outside to talk to the witness. She was the maid and she seemed to only speak Spanish so no one could understand here.

“…uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?” Dean started.

She started to babble in Spanish that was definitely too hard to understand. “Umm Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor…” I requested for her to be calm as I sat down beside her on the bench and Brit knelt down in front of her. “Uhh…” I looked at Brit for help.

“Uh, díganos lo que vio?” Brit asked if she could tell us what she saw.

We glanced up at Dean and Sam and shrugged as Dean grinned and Sam had an impressed look. “Nice” they both said.

“Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes” she said.

“Okay, a tall man…” Sam understood. “With a long black coat…” Brit added. “And a beard” I assumed as Señora Alvarez was gesturing to her chin.

She nodded. “Y un sombrero” she added. “Dude was wearing a sombrero?” Dean asked.

“Umm a hat, not a legit sombrero” I told him .

“No, no, no, un sombrero alto” she corrected me. “A tall hat?” Sam asked. “Like a top hat” Brit assumed.

“Un sombrero alto. Muy alto!” she stressed, making hand gestures above her head.

“What, you mean like a stovepipe hat?” Dean asked, imitating her gestures.

“Si”

“Like Abraham Lincoln” I said to them but Señora Alvarez started sobbing again.

“Sí. El Presidente Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!” she cried.

We all exchanged a look. “S-so I go home now?” she asked. “Si. Gracias” I said, smiling at her. “Gracias” Dean repeated as Brit and I stood up and Señora Alvarez walked away. Okay, we needed to do more research.

We got back to the motel and we were all at the table while Dean and I were on one side using Brit’s laptop with Sam and Brit on the side using Sam’s laptop. Dean and I were re-watching the video of Cal’s death that his friend had recorded and we were going through each frame, looking for anything at all.

“Hold on, hold on, go back one frame” I said to Dean, narrowing my eyes in on the screen.

He obeyed and then he leaned forward as well. There was a figure in a red jacket reflecting in the chrome of the car wheel…holy crap.

“Whoa” we both voiced. Sam and Brit looked up at us.

“What?” Brit asked.

I went back and forth between a few frames and then I turned the laptop so Brit and Sam could see. “It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video” Dean said.

“Are we crazy or does that look like James Dean?” I asked.

They got a good look at it. “That looks like James Dean” they both said.

“So we got Abraham Lincoln, and James Dean?”

“Famous ghosts?” Dean questioned. “Maybe” Sam said.

“Well that's just silly”

“Actually, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the…you know…not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before” Brit said.

“Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?”

“Who are apparently ganking their fans” Sam said. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln” he read off his laptop.

“And Cal must've been a James Dean freak” Dean said. “He did spend seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car” I said.

“So you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?”

“That's what it looks like” Brit said.

“Well, that is muchos loco” he commented and looked back down at the laptop as he spun it back around.

I shook my head, laughing under my breath as Brit rolled her eyes, smirking as well and Sam grinned. “'Muy’” he corrected. Dean looked up again. “Not 'muchos’”

Dean gave him a look but then let it go. “Yeah, well, the big question is, what the hell are they doing here?”

“Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House…”

“And James Dean at a race track…” I added.

“But, what the hell are they doing in Canton?” Brit finished.

After some more researching we found a wax museum online and we headed over there. We met the owner and he told us to just walked right in and he would be with us in a minute. We started going through an exhibit, checking out the figures. I saw John F. Kennedy, Richard Nixon and then there was Abraham Lincoln which we all stopped at…except Dean. He was standing in front of Gandhi, frowning slightly.

“Dude, he's short” he commented. "Hey. Gandhi was a great man” Sam defended.

“Yea, for a Smurf” I muttered but they all still heard me.

Dean chuckled under his breath as Sam rolled his eyes and Brit was hiding her snickers. Then, the owner came over to us, jogging slowly and I saw how he seemed to be slightly out of breath.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year” he said. We looked around at the empty museum. “This is busy?” Dean inquired.

“Well, not right now, but it's early”

“It’s 4:30” I let him know.

He shifted in his spot. “So, what can I do for you?” he quickly changed the subject.

“Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine” Sam said. “Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are” Dean added.

“That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need”

“Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean” Brit said.

“Two of our most popular displays”

“Yeah? So they bring in a lot of visitors?” I asked.

“Yeah, we have our regulars”

“I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?” Dean asked.

“As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh…you…that's not gonna be in the article, is it?”

“No. No, no. 'Course not” Sam assured him.

“You know, I gotta tell you, that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you can just imagine him moving around”

"You ever see anything like that?” Dean asked.

“Uh...no”

“No?”

“Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual?“ Sam asked.

“You know, for the article?” Brit added.

“Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere”

“How so?” I questioned.

“Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat”

“Huh…almost like his remains” Dean said, pointedly.

“Uh...I guess?”

“You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?” I asked.

“Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This..” he said, indicating to his leather jacket he was wearing. “And who did that belong to?” Sam asked.

“The Fonz. Seasons two through four!” he said, excitedly, giving us two thumbs up.

“Yeah, that's…that's really cool...ish”

"This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids”

“The kids?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, the new generation. Computer games, cell phones, sexting…”

I noticed Dean raised his eyebrows and I unnoticeably nudged him. He grunted under his breath as I rolled my eyes at him. “They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again” he finished and gave us double thumbs up again.

Dean chuckled, I snickered and Sam and Brit gave him a thumbs up of their own.

That night at the motel, while Dean and I waited in the room for Brit and Sam to finish packing the trunks, Dean was on the phone with Bobby and I was laying on the bed, tossing a bouncy ball into the air. I wasn’t in the mood to eavesdrop, I just wanted to get this case done with. I saw Sam and Brit walk in but they didn’t make a sound as they stood by the door, listening to Dean.

“Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that?…why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is…well I'm sorry, but it's true” he said.

I chucked the ball at the back of his head. He grunted and sighed. “I'll call you later. Bye” he said and hung up.

He spun around to yell at me but then saw Sam and Brit. “What's going on?” Sam simply asked. “Did you get the trunk packed up?” Dean countered, ignoring his question.

“Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?”

“Bobby"

“And?”

“Nothing”

“So we're just gonna pretend we didn't hear what we just heard?”

“Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boats”

“This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean” Brit sighed.

“Well, this is about as fresh as it gets. Now are we going or not?” he asked, grabbing his jacket. Brit shot me a look. I sighed and we all just walked out.

We got back to the museum, armed and ready to go. I picked the lock with ease and we headed on in, walking through the exhibit we were in before. “Check it out” Dean said and we all looked at him as Brit got a metal trashcan.

He put on Lincoln’s hat. “Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat” he said in a different voice.

Brit and I rolled our eyes at him as I had a smirk playing at my lips and Sam gave him a look. “Dean” he shook his head at him.

“We can't have any fun with this?” Dean pouted slightly and tossed the hat into the trash can. “Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?” Sam suggested.

“I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain"

“I’ll go with you” I said.

We walked into the next room and headed over to the James Dean section to get the keychain and burn it. I knew Dean knew I wanted to talk but wouldn’t because he kept glancing at me as I pretended not to notice. He sighed.

“What?” he snapped as he spun to face me.

“I know we all agreed to have a fresh start but treating Sam and Brittney a certain way isn’t being fresh. And I know you know what I’m talking about” I put my hands on my hips.

“You think they should be trusted again, [ijust like that?” he narrowed his eyes at me.

“I think Sam doesn’t deserve his big brother talking down to him right now”

He was about to respond but the doors slammed shut, separating us from Brit and Sam and I heard some thumps on the other side. “Get the keychain” I said to him and raced to the doors.

I was struggling a little with getting them open but then I kicked them open and rushed in to Brit on the floor, unconscious while Gandhi was on Sam’s back, choking him.

“Is that Gandhi?” Dean asked as he got to my side. “Yeah!” Sam grunted. “Dude, he's squirrelly” he commented, tossing me the keychain as I rushed over to the statue

Dean went to step in and help Sam but that Gandhi dude was hard core. “Sam, I don’t know what to burn!” I yelled to him.

“The glasses!” Brit grunted as she raced to my side.

She grabbed the glasses, tossed them into the trashcan and I tossed the keychain in there as well as I started to squirt lighter fluid on the items and I lit it all on fire with a match. Gandhi disappeared and we spun to see Dean helping Sam up as he was gasping for air.

“You couldn't have been a fan of someone cool? Really? Gandhi?” Dean questioned and Sam just stared at him.

We all felt a little relief wash over us…but I couldn’t help but feel we were missing something….