[SPN/TWW] A Haunting on Pennsylvania Avenue, 10/?
Title: A Haunting on Pennsylvania Avenue, 10/?
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: Room 7 of the Capitol Motel.
Dean Winchester lay on his bed in Room 7 of the Capitol Motel, and glanced across at Sam.
“So, we have a likely candidate?”
Sam nodded, shuffling through the papers that littered his bed. “Uh huh. Donna got the records about the original construction from the OEOB - and how she managed that at eleven at night, I have no idea…”
“Oh, she’s got wiles,” put in Dean, smothering a yawn.
Sam grinned. “So I hear. Anyway, we ran the names of pretty much anyone we could find…”
“Ran ‘em against what?”
“Pretty much anything we could find. Can I finish?” Dean waved a hand, and Sam continued. “A few days before the swimming pool was officially opened, one of the carpenters, uh,” he checked his notes, “Jimmy Carera, reported his wife as missing. Looks like the cops brushed it off as a woman leaving her husband, and he doesn’t seem to have made much noise about it, but she left behind a couple of kids, and no-one ever saw her again - not her family, friends, anyone.”
“So you’re thinking this is our woman?”
“Looks like. Donna and I couldn’t find any connection to any other missing people or deaths. Which isn’t to say there isn’t; it was a long time ago. But, yeah. We think our ghost is Louisa Carera.”
Dean nodded. “OK. Cool. Still doesn’t help us find her, though. Y’know. Underneath the concrete.”
Sam grinned, and pulled out a giant sheet of ageing blueprints. “Actually, it kinda does. There was a reception when the pool was officially opened, but there was also a party before it opened, before it was even completely finished, for the men who had worked on it, and their families. It got reported in a couple of local newspapers - they were all local contractors. Guess who was there?”
“Elvis?”
“I’m not sure Elvis was even born.”
“OK. I’ll go with Louisa Carera.”
Sam held up a picture, a bad photocopy of an old newspaper. “Louisa Carera, alive and well. She disappeared in the week between this party and Jimmy Carera filing a missing person’s report. By the time of the party, the swimming pool was almost entirely finished. There was only one corner still under construction.”
“Then that’s where we’ll find her.”
“Yep. Donna’s going to tell the others - we’ll meet them in Leo’s office tomorrow morning.”
“That Donna is one cool chick.”
“Deeean.”
“What? Don’t ‘Dean’ me in that voice, Sammy. I can still kick your ass.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. I’d like to see you try.”
Dean sat bolt upright, and glared at Sam in a bellicose fashion. “Oh, you think you can take me. Well, bring it on, Samantha!” Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Go to sleep, Dean.”
“Pussy.”
“Sleep.”
“Coward.”
“We’re not kids any more, Dean.”
“Yeah, but you’re still a girl.” A pillow landed on his head, and Dean, satisfied finally with his pillow quota, went to sleep. Sam swore and grabbed his sweater off the floor. Dean sucked.
. . .
The following morning saw everyone reconvening in Leo’s office. Sam spread the blueprints on the table as he and Donna explained what they had discovered, while CJ produced the blueprints to the new renovations.
“It’s most likely she’ll be about here,” said Dean, sketching a small area with his index finger. Everyone pored over the detailed blue-ink diagrams.
“So, those cross-hatched areas?” said Josh, after a moment had passed.
“Yeah?” replied CJ.
“The cross-hatched area entirely covering the area where Dean says the ghost is buried?”
“Yeah?”
“What does the cross-hatching signify, exactly?”
CJ looked up, and patted him on the shoulder. “That, mi amor, would be the concrete.”
“I thought it might be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean, I had a feeling.”
“So, it’s still covered in concrete,” said Leo, sitting back. “That’s great.”
Dean shrugged, and grabbed a doughnut from the dish on the table. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a problem,” he pronounced, through a full mouth. “We can always just burn it down.”
“The press room! Burn down my press room?” CJ smacked down a hand. “No! Absolutely not!”
A sudden noise indicated to those present that their ranks had swelled by one. A quite significant one.
“Leo, who are these young men, and why do they want to burn down my White House?”
Author: chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: Room 7 of the Capitol Motel.
Dean Winchester lay on his bed in Room 7 of the Capitol Motel, and glanced across at Sam.
“So, we have a likely candidate?”
Sam nodded, shuffling through the papers that littered his bed. “Uh huh. Donna got the records about the original construction from the OEOB - and how she managed that at eleven at night, I have no idea…”
“Oh, she’s got wiles,” put in Dean, smothering a yawn.
Sam grinned. “So I hear. Anyway, we ran the names of pretty much anyone we could find…”
“Ran ‘em against what?”
“Pretty much anything we could find. Can I finish?” Dean waved a hand, and Sam continued. “A few days before the swimming pool was officially opened, one of the carpenters, uh,” he checked his notes, “Jimmy Carera, reported his wife as missing. Looks like the cops brushed it off as a woman leaving her husband, and he doesn’t seem to have made much noise about it, but she left behind a couple of kids, and no-one ever saw her again - not her family, friends, anyone.”
“So you’re thinking this is our woman?”
“Looks like. Donna and I couldn’t find any connection to any other missing people or deaths. Which isn’t to say there isn’t; it was a long time ago. But, yeah. We think our ghost is Louisa Carera.”
Dean nodded. “OK. Cool. Still doesn’t help us find her, though. Y’know. Underneath the concrete.”
Sam grinned, and pulled out a giant sheet of ageing blueprints. “Actually, it kinda does. There was a reception when the pool was officially opened, but there was also a party before it opened, before it was even completely finished, for the men who had worked on it, and their families. It got reported in a couple of local newspapers - they were all local contractors. Guess who was there?”
“Elvis?”
“I’m not sure Elvis was even born.”
“OK. I’ll go with Louisa Carera.”
Sam held up a picture, a bad photocopy of an old newspaper. “Louisa Carera, alive and well. She disappeared in the week between this party and Jimmy Carera filing a missing person’s report. By the time of the party, the swimming pool was almost entirely finished. There was only one corner still under construction.”
“Then that’s where we’ll find her.”
“Yep. Donna’s going to tell the others - we’ll meet them in Leo’s office tomorrow morning.”
“That Donna is one cool chick.”
“Deeean.”
“What? Don’t ‘Dean’ me in that voice, Sammy. I can still kick your ass.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, right. I’d like to see you try.”
Dean sat bolt upright, and glared at Sam in a bellicose fashion. “Oh, you think you can take me. Well, bring it on, Samantha!” Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Go to sleep, Dean.”
“Pussy.”
“Sleep.”
“Coward.”
“We’re not kids any more, Dean.”
“Yeah, but you’re still a girl.” A pillow landed on his head, and Dean, satisfied finally with his pillow quota, went to sleep. Sam swore and grabbed his sweater off the floor. Dean sucked.
. . .
The following morning saw everyone reconvening in Leo’s office. Sam spread the blueprints on the table as he and Donna explained what they had discovered, while CJ produced the blueprints to the new renovations.
“It’s most likely she’ll be about here,” said Dean, sketching a small area with his index finger. Everyone pored over the detailed blue-ink diagrams.
“So, those cross-hatched areas?” said Josh, after a moment had passed.
“Yeah?” replied CJ.
“The cross-hatched area entirely covering the area where Dean says the ghost is buried?”
“Yeah?”
“What does the cross-hatching signify, exactly?”
CJ looked up, and patted him on the shoulder. “That, mi amor, would be the concrete.”
“I thought it might be.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean, I had a feeling.”
“So, it’s still covered in concrete,” said Leo, sitting back. “That’s great.”
Dean shrugged, and grabbed a doughnut from the dish on the table. “Look, it doesn’t have to be a problem,” he pronounced, through a full mouth. “We can always just burn it down.”
“The press room! Burn down my press room?” CJ smacked down a hand. “No! Absolutely not!”
A sudden noise indicated to those present that their ranks had swelled by one. A quite significant one.
“Leo, who are these young men, and why do they want to burn down my White House?”