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angelsandacceptance · 3 years ago

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Criss Angel Is A Douchebag

On yet another case, the four young hunters find themselves in Sioux City, Iowa. Walking along the street, looking for a hotel, they pass by many people doing acts of sorts, some singing, some dancing, and more than a few doing magic tricks.

Dean and Sam are forced to stop as they realize Chase and Harley had stopped walking behind them a ways back, watching (eyeing more like) a young magician doing a card trick.

Dean rolls his eyes as the two backtrack.

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching,” Chase replies simply.

“The show or the guy?” Dean asks, looking more annoyed by the second.

“Definitely both.”

“Does it matter?” Harley asks, looking at the guy up and down.

“Oh, I recognize him,” Sam says.

“You do?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Yeah. That’s Jeb Dexter.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“He’s famous of sorts.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” Harley mumbles.

“Those looks and that style. Surprised I haven’t seen him anywhere yet.”

“Like your dreams?” Dean mocks.

“Shut up, Dean. You’re only jealous you can’t rock guyliner like that.”

“Guyliner?” Dean asks slowly. He rolls his eyes at Jeb, who starts to act as though he’s having a seizure. “What a douchebag.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Come on! He’s faking a demon possession. Poorly, might I add.”

“So what? He’s hot!” Harley says.

Jeb, obviously hearing Harley’s comment, smirks as he locks eyes with her, giving her a wink.

“That’s it!” Dean exclaims, grabbing Harley and Chase by their arms and pulling them after him. “We’re leaving.”

As they continue walking, Dean and Harley hardly notice that he’s still holding onto her arm, despite Chase having yanked hers away almost immediately.

“I can’t believe people actually fall for that crap,” Dean says bitterly.

“It’s not all crap,” Sam defends.

“What part of that was not a steaming pile of bullshit?” Dean asks.

“Him. His looks. His hair. His sty-” Chase is cut off by a death stare from her older brother. She simply responds in the most mature way she can think of- sticking her tongue out at him.

“Okay, maybe that was crap, but that’s not all magicians,” Sam continues. “It takes skill.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot! You were into that sort of thing! You had a wand and a card deck.”

“Dude, I was thirteen,” Sam says, a little hushed. “It was a phase.”

“It’s not a phase, mom!” Chase says in a mocking voice. Sam shoots her a look. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! You all know I still have my wizarding robes, wand, and cauldron. So, it’s not like you were the only one with a magic phase, Sammy boy.”

“Just—it bugs me. You know, playing at demons and, and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody,” Dean explains.

“But that’s the point. People like to get scared because it makes them feel better about real life. And to them, none of our lives are real.”

“Yeah, but it is real life. And it will kill you.”

“Like having ten stab wounds, but no tears in his shirt,” Harley says, reiterating the gist of their case.

“Exactly,” Dean says, looking at her. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

***

Vance’s assistant finishes packing up Vance’s belongings into a bag before turning to the four hunters. Chase and Harley are on their phones looking up Jeb.

“So did your boss have any enemies that you know of?” Dean asks.

“Vance had plenty of enemies.”

“How so?” Sam asks.

“He would steal from other magicians. All the time.”

“What would he steal?”

“Stage effects, closeup techniques, anything he could get his hands on.”

“Is that enough to get him killed?” Dean asks hurriedly, annoyed at the girls.

“These guys take this stuff pretty seriously.”

“Did you find anything weird in Vance's stuff? Well, weirder?”

“Matter of fact, I did.” She pulls a tarot card out of Vance’s suitcase. The ten of swords. “He hated card tricks. Never wanted them around. Let alone in his precious cape.” She hands Sam the tarot card before asking about Chase and Harley, “Are they okay?”

“They’re fawning over some douchebag.” Dean sighs.

***

The four hunters walk into an expansive theater, spotting people with cameras and microphones. Jeb stands over by a far table, talking on his phone. A couple of older men sit at one table, talking amongst themselves.

Dean makes a beeline for the older gentlemen while Chase and Harley wander near Jeb. After flashing their badges, Jeb shoos away his crew.

“Anything I can for you two lovely ladies?”

“Yes, actually. FBI, this is Manson and I’m Agent Franklin. We have some questions for you.”

Jeb raises his eyebrows at Chase but nods for her to continue. “Of course.”

“We’re looking into the death of Patrick Vance. Did you know him?”

Jeb shakes his head. “Know of him, yes. But I haven’t actually seen any of his work.”

“I have to ask, where were you at the time of his murder?” Harley asks.

“I was doing a show. My big show here isn’t until later so I lined up a few gigs before then. That night I was at Rowane’s Bar and Club. Drunk people like magic shows as much as the next guy.”

“Thank you. Do you happen to use tarot cards in any of your acts?” Chase asks.

“Nope. Just regular poker cards.”

“Thanks. Know anyone who does?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Well. That’s all. We might have to come back and ask more questions later.”

“If it means seeing you two again. Even if you don’t, look me up. I’m here for a few more days and I’d love to treat you girls to a drink.”

“Or we could get that drink now,” Harley says.

Jeb shoots her a big smile. “That is something I can live with.” He starts to lead the way to the bar. “Follow me.”

Harley and Chase follow him without much caution, waving Dean off when he shoots them a look.

***

“Why water? I thought we were having some fun?” Jeb asks Harley once they ordered their drinks.

“I don’t drink,” Harley shrugs, “Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

“That sounds like an invitation.”

“More like a proposal,” Chase says, downing her drink; straight vodka on ice.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Harley flirts.

“Well, what if I want it to be?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” Chase says, leaning closer to Jeb, who keeps looking back and forth between the two friends. Harley rests her hand on his thigh.

Jeb smirks, raising his hand to brush a piece of hair away from Harley’s face and leans in to kiss her, but gets interrupted by a fist connecting with his face; specifically Dean’s fist.

“What the hell, Dean!” Harley yells.

“What, he touched you?” Dean says genuinely confused.

“Because he was about to kiss me, dumbass.”

“Look, dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” Jeb says defensively with his hands in the air.

“I don’t, at most we’re makeout buddies.”

Sam and Chase look to each other with smug, shit eating grins on their faces, eyes screaming, “knew it”.

“Really? I thought we were best buddies.” Dean says sarcastically.

“So did I, but apparently not. You constantly flirt with chicks and have one night stands. Let me have this one,” Harley says fuming.

“You can do better than him.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, ever think about that? So shut up and walk away before I make you.”

Dean raises his hands in surrender and goes to sulk in the corner of the room.

“Hmph, that’s what I thought,” Harley turns back to Jeb, “Wanna get out of here and away from that asshole?”

“Yes I do.”

Chase and Sam look from Harley, walking away with Jeb, to Dean, still pouting in the corner. “They are both such idiots,” Chase sighs.

“Yep,” Sam agrees, shaking his head.

***

Sam and Dean approach Chase, who is listening in on a conversation between Vernon and Charlie.

“He's crazy, and you know it,” Vernon says.

“He says he can do it.”

“Did you even try to talk him out of it?”

“Till I was blue in the face. But I tell you, Vernon, there was...there was something in his eyes.”

“'In his eyes'? You're both nuts.”

“The Chief, huh?” Dean says, breaking the conversation up.

“What's the matter? Chief not your type?”

“You know, I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“How? You're no Fed.”

“We con people for a living, son. Takes more than a fake badge to get past us.”

The three Winchesters laugh at the comment.

“You got us. Yeah, we—we are actually—aspiring magicians,” Dean says.

Chase gives him a look.

“Yeah, we -- We came to the convention 'cause we thought we could learn something.”

“Yeah, get some ideas for our new show,” Chase says, going shopping with the story.

“Ooh, what kind of show?” Vernon asks.

“Well, it's-- It's a --“ Chase cuts herself off and looks to Sam.

“It's a family act.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know, with the rings and doves and...rings.”

“You want to learn something? Stick around.”

With this, Jay walks onto stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you're about to witness is a feat so daring, So dangerous, even the great Houdini dared not attempt it. I give to you...The executioner!” He announces.

“As you can see, the Jacket is a real article. Thank you,” he says to a worker, who tightens a straight jacket around him. “You may take your seat. Now. I will have one minute to escape certain death. Let's see if I can do it.”

The curtain falls over the stage, showing only a silhouette of Jay. He seems to be struggling quite a bit with the jacket, which adds to the rising tension in the air.

“I don't think he's gonna make it,” Dean says.

“I don’t think I care.”

Sam lightly smacks Chase on the shoulder as she laughs quietly behind her hand.

Seconds pass, the one minute already half over. The crowd watches with bated breath as the minute timer finally stops and Jay is no longer struggling with the jacket, giving the impression he’d failed. Suddenly, Jay pushes aside the curtain, unharmed.

“Oh!” Dean exclaims. “That was amazing! That was fucking amazing!”

“Thought it was all crap,” Chase teases.

“That was...not humanly possible,” Sam says.

The two older siblings cast him worried glances as he clenches his jaw, deep in thought. They jump slightly when Chase’s phone starts to ring.

“Is that Harley?” Dean asks worriedly.

“Yes, now shut up.”

The two boys watch and listen to only one side of the phone call, their expressions growing more confused while Chase listens to Harley lowkey freaking out, horror reflecting in her eyes.

***

The most interesting thing happened during Harley’s post coital nap. A noose came behind Jeb Dexter while he was posing in the mirror and dragged him up to the ceiling fan. It was a quick death as the force of him being pulled up snapped his neck.

Harley stirred, but slept for another 5 minutes before waking up to find Jeb’s body dangling from the ceiling fan. She immediately calls Chase, “Hey, so um we got a problem.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Chase’s mind goes to a hundred different possibilities, all of them worse than the last. “Are you okay?”

“I am, but um Jeb’s not so lucky. He’s kind of dead.”

“What?” Chase exclaims. Harley can hear Dean and Sam in the background, before a loud “Ow,” presumably from Dean.

“Yeah, he’s hanging from a noose in his hotel room. I don’t really know what to do.”

“Um. Uh, okay, well, does anyone know you’re there?”

“No, but my fingerprints are all over the body.”

“Um, right. That’s an issue. Maybe we should skip town and let the boys deal with the rest of this. How are you going to get away with this? First of all, they’ll question you. While doing that, they’ll realize you aren’t FBI-”

“Questioning her for what?” Harley can hear Sam ask.

“Guys, shut up!” Chase snaps.

“I mean do they have my fingerprints in the database if I’m legally dead?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Sweet, okay, so please - You’re dressed, right?” “I can be.”

“Okay, yeah. Do that, then get your lucky ass down here asap, so that we can fucking not get charged for murder please.”

“Okay see you in a bit.”

***

“What was that about?” Dean demands.

“Um, yeah, Jeb’s dead. But it’s fine!”

“How is that fine?” Sam asks.

“Because Harley is legally dead so she won’t get charged for murder!”

“How does that make Jeb being dead, “fine”?” Sam asks.

“I’m trying to be positive!”

“Not a good look on you,” Dean says.

“Oh shut up, you pile of horse manure.”

“Let’s just get back to the hotel room. I just shot Harley a text. She’s going to meet us there.”

“Okay,” Chase says, ignoring Dean who is still looking at her indignantly for calling him horse shit.

***

“So, I’m never having a one night stand again,” Harley announces as she enters the room.

Dean goes to say something, which Chase assumes is going to be something stupid and hypocritical, so she stops him by smacking her hand on the back of his head. He pouts, turning to glare at her, but she just looks back at Harley, completely unbothered.

“This has to be something to do with Jay, right?” Sam asks.

“Probably. The tarot card of the ten swords found on the guy with ten stab wounds, right after Jay does the table of death,” Chase says.

“Yeah, and now the executioner ends with Jeb hanged,” Dean continues.

“Whatever this is, we have to stop it soon, before we end up dead. Wait, have any of you bothered checking yourselves for tarot cards? I’ve done it several times since Harley called me.”

“Only one I have on me is the one I pulled from Jeb’s pocket.” Harley sighs.

“Well, let’s start with some research on Jay.”

“Sounds good,” Chase says, after smacking Dean once more after he went to make a snide comment to Harley.

***

“So, it turns out Jay was a pretty big deal in the seventies,” Sam says.

“Which in magician land means what exactly?” Dean asks.

“Big enough to play at radio city music hall.”

“What got him stuck in their "where are they now?" File?”

“Looks to me like the only thing is that he got old,” Chase says. “Okay, so maybe incredible Jay is using real magic to stage a comeback,” Harley says.

“It’s possible,” Sam says.

“Could be some kind of spell that works as a death transference?”

“How does the tarot card mix into it?” Dean asks.

“Well, it looks like that’s how he chooses his targets. If they have a tarot card on them, they’ll be the ones to die when the spell takes place,” Chase says.

“Man,” Dean says, “hope I die before I get old. Whole thing seems brutal, don't it?”

“You’re not allowed to die young, Dean,” Chase says.

“Already have.”

“Do you think we will?” Sam asks.

“Will what?” Dean asks. Harley and Chase roll their eyes at his idiocy.

“Die before we get old.”

“Like Dean just said, technically you both already have,” Harley points out.

“You know what I mean. I mean, do you think we'll still be chasing demons when we're 60?”

“I mean, what else is there to do? Crocheting?” Chase laughs.

“Yeah, I don’t see myself settling down,” Harley adds. “And what is better than chasing demons?”

“No, I think we'll be dead,” Dean says,“for good. What? You want to end up like -- Like Travis? Huh?Or Gordon, maybe?”

“There’s Bobby,” Chase says.

“Oh, yeah, there's a poster child for growing old gracefully.”

“Maybe we’ll be different,” Sam says.

"What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life,” Dean says.

“And if we could win somehow?” Chase offers.

“Win?” Harley asks.

“If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it,” Chase explains.

“Is there something you two ain’t telling me?” Dean asks.

“No, just curious, I guess.”

“No,” Sam says.

“Sammy.”

“Look, I'm just saying...I just wish there was a way we could...go after the source. That's all. Cut the head off the snake.”

“Well, the problem with the snake is that it has a thousand heads. Evil bitches just keep piling out of the Volkswagen.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“How about we split up. I’ll see if I can find anything on these tarot cards that confirms Chase’s theory. You find Jay. Chase, you wanna go with me or do you, Harley?” Dean asks, looking hopefully at the latter.

“I’ll go with you,” Chase offers, hoping to spare Harley any unnecessary comments from her brother.

Dean shoots Chase a look before sighing. “Okay, that settles it. Let’s go.”

***

“Why did you sleep with Jeb?” Sam asks, “You never have one night stands.”

“To get back at Dean,” Harley says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“For?”

“Being a hypocrite.”

“You slept with someone out of spite?”

“Yep,” Harley says before adding, “I don’t want to win.”

“Why? We can have normal lives.”

“In case you haven’t noticed I’m not exactly normal. A normal life doesn’t suit me. I need action, excitement, adventure.”

“You could act.”

“I’d rather hunt.”

“People die hunting.”

“People die without it.”

“I guess, but we do need to stop the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, don’t need a toilet paper shortage on our hands.”

***

Dean and Chase stare at the body.

“Told you,” Chase says simply.

“Okay. Okay, you were right. It’s likely transference magic and this pathetic douche didn’t kill himself.”

“Dean, can you shut up for one moment?”

“No.”

Chase groans. “This is why Harley and you fight! Because you don’t have the fucking balls on you to make her yours, but then you go and be an ass to her when she shows interest in other guys!”

“I wouldn’t have been happy had you slept with Mr. Guyliner either.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have reacted like a jealous boyfriend. Here’s the thing. You have got to stop being so overprotective of her. She has shown time and time again she can handle herself.”

“But she shouldn’t have to,” Dean argues.

Chase rolls her eyes. “Just fucking date her already.”

“I don’t like her like that!”

“Bullshit.”

Chase and Dean quickly exit the hotel room, to go meet back with Sam and Harley.

“It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.”

“Okay, fine,” Chase says, stopping and turning to Dean.

“I want you to imagine something for me.”

“I’m scared.”

“Shut up, Dean! Just do it.”

“Fine!”

“Imagine Harley dating someone. Some guy. Let’s say he’s tall, dark hair, guyliner, Harley’s alt dream boy. Now imagine them together. They’ll kiss, hold hands, whatever the hell else. He’s her boyfriend so he probably won’t like how touchy you are with her. So you’ll have to stay hand’s off. They’ll get married, sleep together, grow old together. Now, don’t have to tell me, but think for a moment how you’d feel watching that from afar. Because I’m pretty sure you feel a bit differently about that situation than if it were me and my boyfriend. That difference is called loving someone versus being in love with them. You’d be happy for me, but you’d be angry, pouty, and jealous if it were her. Just in case you needed an eye opener.”

Chase continues to walk on, ignoring Dean, who is staring after her with wide eyes, a pained look of discomfort on his features before he hurriedly rushes after her, deep in thought.

***

Harley and Sam arrive in the lobby first, they wait a few minutes before Chase and Dean walk through the lobby doors.

“Hey,” Sam greets.

“Hey, Chase,” Harley says.

“Hey, Harley!”

“Maid found Jeb hanging from the ceiling fan. Police think it was a suicide,” Dean says.

“Who was right? That’s right. Me,” Chase says.

“About what? The death transference?” Harley asks.

“Yep!”

“Okay, good, that’s a lead.”

“Any connection between the victims?” Sam questions.

“Jeb was a total douche bag to Jay,” Dean offers.

“What about Vance?” Harley asks.

“Apparently, Vance was heckling Jay at the bar the day he was killed,” Chase answers.

“Okay, so Jay sneaks a card into Vance's pocket, does the table of death…” Sam says.

“And Vance takes 10 swords to the chest,” Dean adds.

“Then Jay slips a noose and Jeb doesn't. Hell of a trick.”

“Hell of a way to wake up,” Harley pouts.

Dean grimaces, as though unhappy about the reminder of the situation. “Yeah, I think it's time we had a little chat with Jay. Any luck tailing him?”

“He slipped us,” Sam says quietly.

“He slipped you? Both of you?” Chase asks in disbelief. “He’s 60.”

“He’s a magician,” Sam says in defense.

***

Winchesters and Co. follow Jay up to his hotel room, guns drawn. After Jay enters his room, Dean kicks down the door.

“Up against the wall!” Dean yells.

“God, who are you? What do you want?” Jay asks, panicking.

“Now!”

“We know what you've been up to,” Sam adds.

“You been working some real bad mojo to jump-Start your act,” Dean states.

“Mojo? Really?” Chase shakes her head at Dean, before re-aiming her gun at Jay.

“What? I don't know what you're talking about.” Jay says frantically.

“Look, we know you put a spell on those tarot cards,” Harley says, rolling her eyes.

“Messing with real magic?” Dean asks.

“"Real magic"? Come on, there's no such thing as real magic,” Jay insists.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, believe me. I've been around this stuff my whole life. It's all just --It's -- It's illusions. It's tricks. It -- It's all fake.”

“Jeb hanging from his ceiling fan too? ‘Cause that looked pretty real,” Harley says.

“What? Something happened to Jeb?”

“Got hung right after you slipped the noose.”

They tie Jay up, and watch him carefully for a few minutes, before they finally start wondering what’s up.

“I swear, I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Just let me go!”

“Something’s not right,” Dean finally speaks up.

“Usually they’re whipping some bad hoodoo at us by now,” Sam agrees.

Chase gives her younger brother a look. “Seriously? Dean making those comments is expected. But you?”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks Chase. “Or is the only thing you’re good for making comments about us?”

“Wow, rude.”

Sam shrugs.

“What do we want to do?” Dean reiterates.

“Well, if it’s not him, who is it?” Harley asks.

Dean rolls his eyes. “What, want revenge for lover-boy or something?”

“Dean, we are literally here for this job. Can you shut the fuck up for once?” Chase groans.

“Yes, Dean, I totally want revenge for someone I’ve known less than a day. That makes total sense,” Harley snarks.

Dean opens his mouth to make another comment, but Sam interrupts, shooting him a pointed look.

“Even if Jay's not working the magic, he's still getting the reward. His shows are selling out,” Sam says. “All right. So, then, whoever it is, they're obviously in Jay's corner,” Chase points out.

Dean, as though suddenly remembering to be professional (and less of a dick) carries on with the case. “All right, so we got Vernon and Charlie on the list. Anyone else?”

“Not that we know of,” Harley sighs.

“Uh, well, we could just… I don’t know. Ask him?” Chase says.

“Or not,” Harley says, noting that the chair is empty.

The other three hunters turn to see an empty chair.

“Are you fucking with me right now? God dammit, mother Mary!”

Harley laughs a little at Chase’s wording.

“Guess we should have seen that one coming,” Dean sighs.

“He couldn’t have gotten that far,” Sam reasons.

“Let’s go look for him,” Harley says.

They all nod and leave the room to search for the missing magician, unbeknownst to them that he had been hiding in the closet the whole time.

***

Jay had called the cops on the hunters and they came face to face with each other in the lobby. The gang got arrested and thrown in holding cells. Dean and Harley together while Chase and Sam were beside them (the latter two who are listening in on the former, without their knowledge or consent).

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Why what?” Harley says shooting him a cautious and confused glare.

“Why’d you sleep with him?”

“Why do you care? We’re not together.”

“I know, but if you get a boyfriend or girlfriend our whole dynamic will change. No more late nights cuddling and watching Scooby-Doo. No more kissing or flirting.”

“Dean, you’ll always be my main man. Even if some other guy comes around.”

“Or girl?”

“Or girl, so do everyone a favor and stop being a hypocritical ass. We’ll still be flirty friends in our old age. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Right, yeah.” Dean says not buying it for a second, but letting the issue lie.

“I can’t believe you got that jealous over Jeb.” Harley laughs.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Totally were.”

“Was not.”

“Whatever, you’re no fun.”

“I’ll show you how much fun I can be.”

“No, Dean.”

“C’mon, you fuck some random magician, but not me!” Dean yells indignantly.

“Yeah well. Maybe it was the guyliner,” Harley huffs.

“I’m a better lay anyday.”

“I don’t know Dean, it was kinda the best sex of my life.”

***

Sam and Chase turn to each other, and as silently as they can (which isn’t very silent because both Dean and Harley hear them), fangirl about the couple-to-be. They literally begin to wave their hands, screeching into their palms, jumping around. It’s kind of embarrassing.

***

“Jay. Thanks for dropping the charges,” Sam says.

“Yeah, it’s nice to not be in a cell anymore,” Chase nods.

“Yeah, especially when locked with him,” Harley jokes, motioning towards Dean, who just laughs and shakes his head at her.

“You mind telling us why you did it?” Dean asks, turning to Jay, suspicious of him.

“We have to talk,” Jay says.

***

“I was just a kid when we first met. All I knew was how to cheat at cards. Charlie got me out of more scrapes than I can count. Hell, I would have been dead by the age of 20 if it hadn't been for him,” Jay sighs, “He was more than my friend. He was my brother.”

“I'm sorry, Jay.” Sam offers.

“Look, I should have listened to you guys when you told me that my show was killing people.”

“Thank you,” Harley says, not exactly tactfully.

“Well, you weren't the one pulling the trigger,” Dean adds, trying to cover up Harley’s previous comment.

“Yeah, but someone did, and I want to find out who did this to Charlie, so I'll do whatever you guys say. Just tell me what to do.” Jay says.

“Jay, whoever's doing this...They like you. They're probably close to you. Did Charlie and Vernon get along?” Chase asks, trying to be careful, but also not wanting to miss any leads for the sake of sparing his feelings.

“No. No, it's not Vernon.”

“He's the only one that makes sense,” Harley comments.

“Charlie and Vernon were your family, Jay,” Sam states, his voice understanding.

“And now Charlie's gone,” Dean adds.

“Yeah, but...they butted heads sometimes, but Vernon could never do something like this,” Jay says, denial evident in his voice.

“You sure about that?” Harley asks.

“See, the thing about real magic is it's a whole lot like crack. People do surprising things once they get a taste of it,” Dean adds.

“You better be damn sure about this. Vernon's all I got left,” Jays states.

***

The four hunters enter Vernon’s hotel room after Jay had called him away.

“Wow. It's like a...magic museum,” Sam says, almost in awe.

“You must be in heaven. This guy doesn't travel light,” Dean jokes.

“He’s been on the road forever, Dean, this is probably all of his stuff.” Harley laughs.

“Let’s get started,” Chase comments, as she’s the least distracted.

They all look around the room, determined to find anything to help them with their current lead. Finally, Chase stops, sighing. “This is useless. There’s nothing here!”

“This is just a bunch of old-Timey magic stuff --None of it magic,” Dean says after a few minutes of looking through Vernon’s stuff.

“No herbs, no candles, and no tarot cards,” Sam agrees.

“I'll be damned!” Dean exclaims.

“What?” Chase asks.

Dean holds up a vintage poster with a young Charlie on it; the only problem is Charlie shouldn’t have been born yet (from the looks of the poster, it’s older, as though from a circus advertisement). “Look like anyone we know?”

***

The four hunters rush to the stage room, minds reeling. They get there in time to hear a young Charlie offer his two friends immortality.

“Not so fast!” Dean exclaims, climbing up the stage steps, followed by the others. “I ain't Guttenberg, and this ain't "Cocoon."”

“Immortality. That's a neat trick,” Chase says, standing in front of Charlie.

Charlie smiles at her. “It’s not a trick.” A noose drops from the ceiling, looping around Chase’s throat and pulling her up. “It’s magic.”

Just before Dean could try to help her, Charlie places a hand on his shoulder. Dean suddenly turns to Harley and raises his gun.

“Um, Dean, what the fuck. Bad guy that way,” Harley exclaims, pointing at Charlie. He simply smirks at her, shooting. She ducks, narrowly escaping the bullet.

Sam shoots Charlie, and he catches the bullet in his teeth. “Bullet catch,” Charlie smiles. “Been working on that.”

“Get him!” Chase yells out, keeping a hand in between the rope and her neck, breathing shallowly. “Can someone just fucking gank him already?”

Sam is pushed onto a table, bloody swords dangling above him, ready to drop at any second. Charlie watches it all with a smile.

“Dean, what the fuck!” Harley exclaims again, trying to help, but not being able to do much other than avoid Dean’s bullets.

Suddenly, Charlie gasps, looking down at his stomach, where blood is blossoming across his shirt. He looks to Jay, who has a pack of tarot cards in his hand, the other hand wrapped around a knife he had plunged into himself.

“Jay… You chose these strangers over me?” Charlie asks. Jay only looks at him sadly, as though holding back tears. Charlie collapses to the ground, the tarot card that killed him in hand.

The rope snaps, dropping Chase to the ground unceremoniously. The straps holding Sam to the table break, allowing him to be free. Dean, having stopped shooting at Harley, looks around with confused eyes, having missed the past few minutes’ events.

“You okay?” Sam asks Chase, while Dean and Harley check up on each other.

Chase, gasping a little for air still, nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

***

The four hunters, having packed up, and gotten ready to leave, stop to say goodbye to Jay.

“Hey, Jay,” Dean says, walking into the bar. “We just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“I killed my best friend yesterday, and you want to thank me?” Jay asks in grieving disbelief.

“Where’s Vernon?” Sam asks, unsure of how to respond to Jay’s statement.

“Oh, he’s gone. He said he didn't want to speak to me again after what I did to Charlie.”

“You know, Jay. Charlie was never going to give up what he was doing. You did the right thing,” Harley says.

“Are you sure about that? You know, Charlie was like my brother. And now he's dead... because I did "the right thing." He offered me a gift, and I just threw it back in his face. So now I have to spend the rest of my life old and alone. What's so right about that?” Jay stands from his table and leaves, the card deck he’d been shuffling discarded on the table.

“Jay, your cards,” A bartender says.

“Throw them away.”

Before Jay exits fully, Chase stops him. “I really am sorry. If I had to do that, I don’t know what I’d do. So, I’m sorry.” Jay nods to her, exiting the bar.

Dean sighs. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could go for a beer.”

“I’m going to take a walk,” Sam says.

“Do you want any company?” Chase asks.

“No, I’m good. Just want to think.”

“Okay.”

After Sam departs, the three other sit down at a table and order drinks; Dean, beer, Chase, whiskey, and Harley, a Shirley Temple.

“Dean, what’s that on your eyes?” Chase asks suddenly, seeing dark circles under his eyes. Dean rubs at his eyes, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Dean, did- Did you try putting eyeliner on?” Chase asks.

Harley’s head snaps up from her phone to look at Dean with wide eyes and a smile. “You know you could’ve asked for help? Wait… Where did you even get it?”

“Where you get eyeliner, duh,” Dean scoffs.

“Did you rummage through my stuff, Dean?” Chase asks.

“No.”

“Did you go through mine?” Harley asks.

Dean avoids direct eye contact. “Maybe.”

“Dean! What did I tell you about going through people’s things?” Chase demands.

“Not to do it.”

“And what did you do?”

“Okay, I went through Harley’s stuff and got eyeliner and tried putting it on but it looked bad, and I couldn’t figure out how to take it off.”

“Did you take anything else?” Chase sighs.

Once again, he avoids eye contact with both girls. “Noooo.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” Harley sighs.

Chase smiles, but soon, it turns into full on laughter at the thought of Dean putting on eyeliner. Harley joins her and Dean sits there, pouting and fighting a smile.

Sam wanders in during this and sits down, leans over to Dean, asking, “What’s so funny?”

This only makes the girls laugh harder.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll teach you how to put it on.”

***

Harley and Dean are in the girls’ bathroom.

“Okay, so you want to pull down your lower lid, then you can apply eyeliner to your waterline,” Harley explains.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dean groans.

“It’s your fault for putting it on wrong. Now you gotta learn how to put it on right.”

“I really don’t need to learn, the eyeliner was a moment of weakness.”

“And if you have another moment of weakness you’ll need to know how to do it right,” Harley laughs.

“How happy will this make you?”

“Extremely.”

“Fine… What’s a waterline?”

“It’s like the very edge of your lower lid.”

“Wait is it supposed to touch your eye?” Dean asks.

“Yes, Dean, you put it in your eyes,” Harley snarks.

“Okay, I get it. That was a dumb question.”

Harley hands Dean the eyeliner brush; he pulls down his lower lid and hesitantly applies the eyeliner creme before doing the same a little more confidently to the other eye.

“Good job! Now comes the hard part. Less scary, but harder,” Harley jokes, “I want you to try your very best to stay close to your lash line while applying to your upper lid.”

“Can you say that again? This time in english.”

“Put the eyeliner directly above your eyelashes on your upper eyelid.”

“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”

“I did.”

Dean scoffs, but nonetheless does what he’s told.

“Good, now the easiest bit,” Harley smiles.

“There’s more!?” Dean exclaims, shocked and somewhat disappointed.

“Honey, you’re only halfway done. Now close your eyes and smudge the living daylights out of that eyeliner.”

“Can’t I be done?” Dean sighs.

“Depends, do you want to look hot or do you want to look sexy?” Harley smirks.

“Sexy.”

“Then smudge the damn eyeliner.”

“Fine,” Dean smudges the damn eyeliner before opening his eyes, “I look ridiculous.”

“Look at me,” Harley demands. She inspects his eyeliner making sure none of it is on his nose and wiping off the parts that are a bit to close, “Perfect. Last step; wash the eyeliner off your fingers.”

Naturally he ignores this and wipes it on his jeans. Harley rolls her eyes, but smiles. He can't help but grin seeing her reaction.

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