The Ghost and Mr. Guster Chapter 5
Title: The Ghost and Mr. Guster
Author: Noturbaby
Fandoms: Supernatural/Psych
Rating: PG13 (language)
Warnings: none - no slash
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Gus believes in ghosts. Shawn doesn’t. Maybe working a case with Dean will change his mind.
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Dean took Sam and Gus to the Santa Barbara Mission. "After you take care of daddy De La whatever, maybe take care of the mom, too," Dean suggested handing Sam a bag of tools from the trunk.
"Yeah, I was thinking Theresa," Sam said shouldering the bag.
Both Shawn and Gus were astounded by the weapons cache the brothers were carrying.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, makes sense." He looked at Gus. "Gus, you ever handle a gun?"
Gus shrugged, "Yeah, once or twice, but, not regularly."
"My dad took us shooting a couple times when we were kids," Shawn volunteered pretending not to see Gus's frown.
Dean pressed his lips together and looked at the guns in the trunk. He nodded and selected one. He held it out to Gus, but didn't relinquish it. "You know the basics, right?"
Gus looked offended. "Yeah."
"Good, 'cause that's my brother, I need you to have his back." Dean gave up the gun. "It's loaded with salt rounds. If you accidentally shoot Sam, it'll hurt him, but won't kill him." Gus nodded. "And I'll hurt you." Gus's eyes widened, he swallowed and nodded again. "Good. Be careful," Dean added with a clap on Gus's shoulder.
Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's over-protective attitude. "We got this, Dean. Have fun storming the castle." Dean barked a laugh and returned to the driver's seat. "Hey, Shawn," Sam called.
"Yeah?" Shawn paused before getting back in the car.
"Shotgun on the way back."
Dean parked in the same location he and Sam had the night before. Going to the trunk, Dean packed a bag similar to the one Sam had carried. "Do I get a gun?" Shawn asked.
"Yeah," Dean answered quietly, carefully choosing the right weapon for Shawn. "You're supposed to have my back," Dean reminded him. "I've grown rather fond of it so don't let anything happen to it." He handed Shawn a gun. "This has salt rounds, too. If you see the ghost, either ghost, shoot it."
"Why is salt the condiment of choice?"
Dean shrugged. "The ghosts don't like it. It dispels them and it usually takes a minute or two for the spirit to regroup." Dean grabbed a crowbar before closing the trunk.
"Whoa, what's that for?"
"Well, two things. One, its iron, another thing that ghosts don't like. And two, I gotta get under the floor by the brick wall."
The Mission was quiet, peaceful even, making Gus think he and Sam had the easy job. "So, Sam, what are we doing, exactly? How are you getting rid of the De La Guerra spirits?"
"Well, after I open the crypt. I'm going to have to salt and burn their corpses," Sam spoke in a matter of fact manner, but his words didn't stop Gus's disgust.
Gus froze. "You have to do what, now?"
Sam had found the De La Guerra entombment. "Yeah, uh, salt and burn the body. It's the best way to make sure the spirit is put to rest."
"Dude, that's just nasty."
"Yeah," Sam nodded his agreement. "Hey, uh, do me a favor and stand over here." Sam pointed to a stone wall about ten feet away.
"Okay." Gus did as he was told. Sam pull bag of salt from his pack. "Now what?"
"Well, I'm going to pour this salt on the ground around you. It will serve as protection from the spirits should we get any angry enough to try to stop us." When he finished, Sam looked at Gus. "Now, if the line isn't broken, you'll be fine. Keep an eye out for any kind of movement. If you see something, holler. I'll take care of it."
"Right, I'll just stay right here while you do your thing," Gus agreed gladly even though his face is a picture of disgust and horror. "Man, I thought I had a bad job. How'd you get this job, anyway?"
Sam smirked as he pulled off De La Guerra's name plate. "Worst guidance counselor ever."
As Dean picked the lock on the office door to the Historical Society, he asked, "Shawn, why'd you decide to come with me? Hoping to see if the ghost is real?"
Shawn shook his head. "No, you all seem pretty convinced that it is." He looked around, making sure they weren't being watched. "Sam's your younger brother. You look out for him. You weren't going to let him take the more dangerous job." Dean nodded. "Well, Gus is my brother from another mother. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him."
"I can understand that," Dean said as he cracked the door open. "Okay, now that we're in, things might get a little hairy. Shoot first, worry about it later. Like I told Gus, the salt rounds hurt people but don't kill them."
"Right, got it." Shawn followed Dean to the main room.
As soon as they entered, Dean went to the brick wall where he had found the Santeria markings, earlier. He pulled a container of salt from his pack. "Shawn, here." he tossed it to him. "Make a circle with that and get inside."
Shawn caught the salt, but was looking around, he didn't make the circle. "Shawn? Your psychic vibes picking something up that I should know about?"
Shawn was squinting at the wall where it joined the ceiling over Dean's head. "There are marks on the molding of the other walls, but not on that one. Should you put one there?"
Dean looked up at the place Shawn was pointing to. "I don't think it would help right now." He put some weight on the crowbar and pried loose a floor board. As he went to work on the second one, he felt the air grow cold. "Shawn, did you get the salt down?"
Instead of the verbal answer he was expecting, Dean heard a loud thud then the sound of breaking wood. "Shawn!" he called as he drew his gun. "You okay, man?"
As Shawn muttered, "Yeah," and stood, a small wooden table slid across the floor and nearly into Dean. But before it hit him, Dean moved out of its path.
Both men looked around for a moment. "Shawn," Dean called, "get the salt down, now."
"I dropped it and the gun."
"Get it. Put the salt in a circle. Now." Dean commanded before he fired his gun at the apparition that formed behind Shawn.
"Dude, that was a little too close," Shawn began to complain, but when he saw Dean's expression he stopped. Instead, he found his gun, picked up the salt and made the circle.
Dean kept watch as Shawn poured the circle. "Good. He can't touch you now. He can still send things flying though, so, watch your back. And mine." Dean added with a point at Shawn. Then he went back to the floorboards. "Come on, Sammy, hurry up," he muttered under his breath.
Shawn's eyes darted around the room, but were continually drawn back to Dean's actions. Dean was reaching into the hole he had created. Shawn suddenly did not want to know what Dean was hoping to find.
Gus gagged a few times when Sam first opened the casket holding the De La Guerra patriarch, but what he saw next made his mouth fall open. It was as if the shadows in the corner of the room came to life. Slowly his brain reacted to what he was seeing. "S-s-sam, on, on your right," Gus directed. Sam turned as directed, but Gus overcame his fright and fired his gun into the shadow.
"Good work, Gus," Sam called, hurrying his actions. Salt, kerosene, match, and flame.
"Th -thanks, Sam," Gus said having regained some composure after seeing a ghost; he really did not feel like losing it over the burning corpse stench. He began to cross the salt line.
"Whoa, Gus," Sam said holding up his hand. "We're not done. I should take care of Theresa, too."
Gus tried to control his nausea and returned to his position behind the salt line. "Really? I don't remember seeing her ghost." Gus was hoping he didn't have to endure another burn.
"Well, the circumstances of her death make it likely that she is a restless spirit," Sam replied before moving to Theresa's name plate.
Back at the Historical Society, Dean had located the stones he assumed were used to mark Powers final resting spot. Then he realized that there was no way to retrieve the remains. "Shawn, once Sammy takes care of daddy dearest, we could have a problem."
"Being tossed like a rag doll wasn't a problem?" Shawn asked sarcastically.
"Just," Dean paused wondering how to explain what was going to happen. "Look, when daddy's gone no one will be keeping Powers in check, so until I complete this little ritual, we're sitting ducks."
Shawn nodded and wondered why he had offered to come along.
The items Dean pulled from the pack worried Shawn, leaving him to hope that Dean knew what he was doing and wasn't actually certifiably insane. Chicken bones? Candles? Shawn couldn't worry for long. All around the room, things began to vibrate. First, it was small items, but soon, larger and larger things began to move up and down in place.
"Dude! Hurry up!" Shawn yelled, looking around hoping to find something to shoot.
Dean didn't waste time with a reply. He flipped open a book, lit the candles, and began the ritual. While he did, Shawn watched as bits of what seemed to be shadow, drew together to form the shape of a man. Shawn froze his mind unwilling to accept what his eyes were seeing. The smoky shape started to solidify and it glared at Shawn. With hands shaking like a leaf, Shawn raised his gun and fired. "Dean! Powers was here and he didn't look happy."
Then, it was as if a giant fan had been switched on. Dean's candles flickered and he moved in an attempt to keep them lit. Shawn watched in horror as his salt circle gradually blew away.
Next, both Shawn and Dean were pelted with the shards of wood and glass from the broken display cases. Shawn was about to cover his face when he saw Powers materialize behind Dean. Without hesitation, Shawn fired his gun. The salt round hitting both Powers and Dean.
Gus and Sam had their own problems. Upon pulling Theresa's casket from the crypt, Sam made a disturbing discovery. Behind her casket was a wooden box covered with Santeria markings. When he pulled it from its resting place, it fell open revealing a human head. Gus's eyes rolled back in his head and he crumbled to the floor.
The next thing Gus knew, Sam was gently shaking him by the shoulder. "Gus, you all right?" he asked.
"Yeah, sure," was his grumbled reply. He allowed Sam to help him up. "Sorry, about that, but I swear I saw a head." He offered Sam a weak smile.
Sam smiled, "No problem, man. A person's first decapitation can be a little rough." Sam strode over to the head and unceremoniously kicked it into its box. "After this, I think we're done."
"Dean, dude, I'm so sorry. Make a bad 'I got your back joke' if you're all right," Shawn called desperately from across the room
"It's not the first time I've been shot, Shawn." Dean almost laughed as he pushed himself off the wall. "Give me Inga's number, and we'll call it even."
"Done. How much more do you have to do?" Shawn asked while his eyes roamed the room looking for Powers.
"Not much. Need maybe a minute." He relit the candles and put some charms into the hole under the floor boards.
As he was about to finish, Dean heard Shawn croak, "Help!" Dean turned with his gun drawn to find Shawn being choked and lifted off the ground by the spirit of Jack Powers. Shawn was thrashing so much that Dean was worried about getting a clean shot. When suddenly, Powers spirit flamed out and Shawn fell to the floor.
The teams spent the next half hour cleaning up and restoring the historical landmarks as best they could.
When Sam gave Gus the word that he could leave the salt circle, Gus immediately asked if he could open windows and turn on the ceiling fans. Then he asked Sam, "So, really, this is your job?"
Sam chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, this is pretty much it."
"Well, it's cool and all, but how do you get paid?"
"We don't."
Gus was shocked. "You don't? Then I'm guessing the benefits package leaves a lot to be desired."
Sam smiled brightly. "The job has benefits, just not the monetary kind."
They worked silently for a minute, and then Gus spoke up again. "Did you ever meet Jay and Grant from TV?"
Shaking his head, Sam looked confused. "Nope, never heard of them."
Dean and Shawn looked around the Historical Society. Even after working for a half hour, the place still looked like a tornado had struck.
Dean dragged a weary hand over his face. "I don't think there's much more we can do."
Shawn nodded. "I think I can convince Mrs. DuMont that the spirits did this. Then I'll convince her that I can put them to rest. I'll just need a ceremony or something."
Dean looked worried. "Dude, no ceremonies. I don't want to screw with -"
Shawn held up his hand. "Nothing real, man. I'll just mumble some stuff and yell some gibberish."
Dean studied Shawn then nodded. "Okay, but I gotta ask you something; do you know anything about a demon with yellow eyes?"
Shawn's brows rose to his hairline. "Demons are real, too?"
"Yeah," Dean sighed, "and I guess that answered my question." He looked around then said, "Let's get out of here."
Gus and Sam were already at the Impala, replacing their tools, when Shawn and Dean left the building. When Sam saw them he called, "Hey, how'd it go?"
"Just finished the ritual when Powers flamed out. You guys must've found something," Dean answered.
"Oh, we found something," Gus retorted with a shudder at the memory of the head rolling from its box.
Shawn handed Dean his gun then sniffed a couple times. "Gus, why do you smell like a campfire?"
"I don't want to talk about it, Shawn," Gus turned to Sam, "I'd say I'm burning these clothes, but I don't think I ever want to see another match."
Sam smiled. "It'll come out in the wash, might take a couple of times," he shrugged.
"Dude," Shawn sniffed again then wrinkled his nose at Gus. "Like a campfire and smoked sausage."
"Enough, Shawn."
"Come on, dude! I honestly had no idea he was going to be pulling a corpse from the ground," Shawn pleaded.
Gus raised a brow at his friend. "Don't worry about it, Shawn. I honestly didn't know I was going to be putting my foot in your ass. Life's full of surprises."
As Dean replaced the last of the tools, Sam said, "Dean, you've got something all over your back." Sam stepped closer in order to dust his brother's back. Dean hissed quietly as Sam's hand wiped the salt off his back. Sam heard him and realized immediately what had happened. "Shawn, you shot my brother?"
Shawn began to sputter a retort, but Dean answered for him. "Sam, he had no choice, man. He was saving my ass." He clapped Shawn on the shoulder, and smirked, "Who needs a drink? I'm buying."
"I definitely need a drink," Gus admitted. "But, we're buying."
Back at the Psych office, the four sat down to pretzels, beer and every other kind of snack Shawn could scrounge from their cupboards. Gus went to his car and returned with a case that he handed to Sam. "Here, take this."
Sam looked surprised. "What is it?"
"It's a promotional kit my company puts together. And some extras."
Sam opened the top of the line first aid kit and found it stuffed with pharmaceutical samples. "Gus thanks, but couldn't you get in trouble for this?"
Gus brushed off Sam's concern. "I got it covered. And with your lousy benefit package, you guys need it." Sam nodded his thanks.
"So, ghosts are real, huh?" Shawn asked as he sat back with his beer.
"Yep," Dean answered with a sigh.
"And demons," Shawn confirmed.
Gus looked at the brothers in expectant shock. "Demons are real? Head spinnin', pea soup spittin', full on Linda Blair bed raisin' - is real?"
Sam nodded, "Yeah, sorry man."
"Huh," Shawn said with a frown and a nod. "What about all those other kinds of things that go bump in the night?"
Sam and Dean exchanged a quick look. "Like what?" Sam asked.
"Werewolves?" Shawn asked with narrowed eyes.
With a small nod, Dean answered, "Rare, but real."
"Witches?" Shawn asked.
"Real," Dean shuddered, and then he pointed at Gus and Shawn. "And they're evil bitches. Don't mess with one."
"What about vampires?" Gus asked.
"Also rare, but very real," Sam replied quickly.
Shawn and Gus leaned against the desk and thought about those revelations for a moment. They looked at each other before turning to the Winchesters, asking in unison, "Buffy?"
The Winchesters looked surprised momentarily, and then Dean shook his head and chuckled, "I wish."
Sam smiled, but shook his head. "No, no Buffy."
Shawn looked crushed. "Well, that hardly seems - fair."
Gus nodded his agreement. "No, it sure doesn't."
Shawn went on, "I mean if all this other stuff is real, a cute demon fighting slayer should be real, too."
"I hear that," Dean said with a toast of his beer.
Sam laughed, "And as far as we know, there's no Scooby-doo, either."
Shawn looked at Sam in exasperation. "Dude, of course not. That was a cartoon. Buffy was a real person."
"Right, sorry. Don't know what I was thinking," Sam replied smiling.
"And Dean's 'mystery machine' - way cooler," Shawn added.
"You got that right," Dean acknowledged with a tip of he beer.
When the Winchesters were ready to leave, Sam handed Gus a card. "You know, for if you ever run across a similar problem."
Gus took the card with a nod. "Thanks, but if we do, it'll be too soon."
Shawn took the card and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Seriously, guys? Still with the fake names?" Sam and Dean looked confused. "Winchester? Like the bar?" Now the brothers really looked confused. "Shawn of the Dead." Shawn dropped the card onto Gus's desk. "Great movie, but come on Sam, stick with the rock aliases."
Sam went to explain, but Dean stopped him with a shake of his head. "We'll see you around guys. Thanks for your help. And, Gus, next time we talk to Jay and Grant, we'll tell them you say 'hi'." Shawn gave Dean a knowing smile.
Gus beamed, and leaned to Shawn and whispered, "Told you."
As they drove off, Sam asked, "Who are Jay and Grant?"
"I have no idea. But, Shawn said he'd give me Inga's number if I said that to Gus. Like I'm turning that down," Dean replied holding up a folded up scrap of paper.
The end.
Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoyed it.
A couple of actual lines from a Psych episode were thrown in because they worked so well
And a special thanks to AG for all the lovely art.
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