[SPN/TWW] A Haunting on Pennsylvania Avenue, 2/?
Title: A Haunting on Pennsylvania Avenue, 2/?
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: The White House cannot possibly be haunted, because there are no such things as ghosts. CJ is quite sure on that point.
“Anyway, we did some research, and it seems like the best way to deal with it is salt.”
“Salt?”
“Yes. At first we thought garlic, but it turns out that really is just for vampires, and it sounds like it doesn’t do much good even then.”
“Margaret…”
“So we were thinking, maybe if we could just scatter some salt around…”
“Margaret!”
“Yes, Leo?”
“We are not scattering salt around the White House. Because the White House is NOT HAUNTED.” Leo’s voice had risen until by the end he was shouting, and everyone watched as two paintings hanging on the corridor wall behind him fell to the floor. Margaret’s lips tightened.
“I’m going to find out more about that salt.”
. . .
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” grumbled Sam, as he juggled various pieces of paper in his lap.
“C’mon, Sammy, you’ve been dying to visit Washington your entire life.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sixth grade. We were living in Maryland. Your class went on a field trip to Washington. You had mumps. You complained for about three years.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Sam, we had to physically tie you to your bed.”
“So I wanted to go on a field trip.”
“Sophomore year.”
“Aw, c’mon, man!”
Dean was relentless. “Your debate team was supposed to go to some geekfest…”
“Debating competition.”
“…and we had to go track down that werewolf in New Mexico. You bitched for months about that one.”
“OK, you know what, Dean? Yes, I’ve always wanted to visit Washington. It’s the heart of our country! Its history… I mean, man!” He broke off, shaking his head. Dean grinned.
“See? You’re gonna love it. Maybe we can get in a bit of sightseeing. Y’know, the Liberty Bell, that kind of thing.”
“Dean!”
“What?”
“The Liberty Bell is in Philadelphia.”
Dean flapped a hand, unconcerned with the details. “Whatever. It’ll be great.” They drove on, AC/DC blaring over the Impala’s speakers. The miles flew by until they were nearing the Washington Beltway.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Do we have a plan?”
Dean looked over, an eyebrow raised. “A plan? Dude, we do this stuff all the time.”
Sam’s expression was the epitome of patience. “Yeah, Dean, but this is the White House. I mean, it’s not like we can wander in and pretend to be, y’know, electricians or insurance agents or something.”
Dean shrugged. “So we’re from Homeland Security.”
Sam nodded consideringly. “Yeah, we could do that. If we want to spend the rest of our lives in jail! Dean, seriously, this is the White House. We’re gonna need a plan.”
. . .
“So, what are we going to do?” asked Josh, lolling on CJ’s sofa.
“Margaret thinks salt,” said Sam. “She was pretty intense.”
Josh nodded. “Donna thinks salt, too. She’s been researching on the internet.”
“Have you all gone insane?” They looked up at Toby, standing in door, a look of disbelief on his face. Sam shrugged.
“It’s hard to argue with the evidence, Toby.”
“Evidence? What evidence? I can’t believe you two are going along with this!” Toby’s irritation was impressive in its depth, and Josh and Sam exchanged glances.
“Toby,” began Sam carefully, “you have noticed what’s been going on around here, haven’t you? Eight people have been injured now…”
“They’re accidents!” retorted Toby. “CJ said it herself.”
“…Doors are slamming for no reason…”
“There are draughts around this building!”
“…Paintings falling off walls…”
“They were hung badly! You should be talking to Bernard and his people, not trying to play ghostbusters!”
“Toby…”
“GUYS!” CJ looked up from her desk, rubbing her temples. “Is it too much to ask you to do this in your own offices? I’m actually trying to do my job here, and having the Three Stooges in with me rarely helps.”
“Actually, CJ, the Three Stooges…” CJ pinned Josh with a glare, and he stopped talking and sidled towards the door. “OK. We’re gone.” The three men left the office, still arguing vociferously. CJ heaved a sign and looked skywards - or, at any rate, ceilingwards.
“OK, Ghostie. You want to haunt this place, knock yourself out. As long as you go for those three, I’m in your corner.”
“We heard that, CJ!” Josh’s voice floated back down the corridor.
“Please. Falling masonry. Levitating statues. Whatever it takes. I can pretty much promise good press.”
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: The White House cannot possibly be haunted, because there are no such things as ghosts. CJ is quite sure on that point.
“Anyway, we did some research, and it seems like the best way to deal with it is salt.”
“Salt?”
“Yes. At first we thought garlic, but it turns out that really is just for vampires, and it sounds like it doesn’t do much good even then.”
“Margaret…”
“So we were thinking, maybe if we could just scatter some salt around…”
“Margaret!”
“Yes, Leo?”
“We are not scattering salt around the White House. Because the White House is NOT HAUNTED.” Leo’s voice had risen until by the end he was shouting, and everyone watched as two paintings hanging on the corridor wall behind him fell to the floor. Margaret’s lips tightened.
“I’m going to find out more about that salt.”
. . .
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” grumbled Sam, as he juggled various pieces of paper in his lap.
“C’mon, Sammy, you’ve been dying to visit Washington your entire life.”
“That’s not true.”
“Sixth grade. We were living in Maryland. Your class went on a field trip to Washington. You had mumps. You complained for about three years.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Sam, we had to physically tie you to your bed.”
“So I wanted to go on a field trip.”
“Sophomore year.”
“Aw, c’mon, man!”
Dean was relentless. “Your debate team was supposed to go to some geekfest…”
“Debating competition.”
“…and we had to go track down that werewolf in New Mexico. You bitched for months about that one.”
“OK, you know what, Dean? Yes, I’ve always wanted to visit Washington. It’s the heart of our country! Its history… I mean, man!” He broke off, shaking his head. Dean grinned.
“See? You’re gonna love it. Maybe we can get in a bit of sightseeing. Y’know, the Liberty Bell, that kind of thing.”
“Dean!”
“What?”
“The Liberty Bell is in Philadelphia.”
Dean flapped a hand, unconcerned with the details. “Whatever. It’ll be great.” They drove on, AC/DC blaring over the Impala’s speakers. The miles flew by until they were nearing the Washington Beltway.
“Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“Do we have a plan?”
Dean looked over, an eyebrow raised. “A plan? Dude, we do this stuff all the time.”
Sam’s expression was the epitome of patience. “Yeah, Dean, but this is the White House. I mean, it’s not like we can wander in and pretend to be, y’know, electricians or insurance agents or something.”
Dean shrugged. “So we’re from Homeland Security.”
Sam nodded consideringly. “Yeah, we could do that. If we want to spend the rest of our lives in jail! Dean, seriously, this is the White House. We’re gonna need a plan.”
. . .
“So, what are we going to do?” asked Josh, lolling on CJ’s sofa.
“Margaret thinks salt,” said Sam. “She was pretty intense.”
Josh nodded. “Donna thinks salt, too. She’s been researching on the internet.”
“Have you all gone insane?” They looked up at Toby, standing in door, a look of disbelief on his face. Sam shrugged.
“It’s hard to argue with the evidence, Toby.”
“Evidence? What evidence? I can’t believe you two are going along with this!” Toby’s irritation was impressive in its depth, and Josh and Sam exchanged glances.
“Toby,” began Sam carefully, “you have noticed what’s been going on around here, haven’t you? Eight people have been injured now…”
“They’re accidents!” retorted Toby. “CJ said it herself.”
“…Doors are slamming for no reason…”
“There are draughts around this building!”
“…Paintings falling off walls…”
“They were hung badly! You should be talking to Bernard and his people, not trying to play ghostbusters!”
“Toby…”
“GUYS!” CJ looked up from her desk, rubbing her temples. “Is it too much to ask you to do this in your own offices? I’m actually trying to do my job here, and having the Three Stooges in with me rarely helps.”
“Actually, CJ, the Three Stooges…” CJ pinned Josh with a glare, and he stopped talking and sidled towards the door. “OK. We’re gone.” The three men left the office, still arguing vociferously. CJ heaved a sign and looked skywards - or, at any rate, ceilingwards.
“OK, Ghostie. You want to haunt this place, knock yourself out. As long as you go for those three, I’m in your corner.”
“We heard that, CJ!” Josh’s voice floated back down the corridor.
“Please. Falling masonry. Levitating statues. Whatever it takes. I can pretty much promise good press.”