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The Return

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“For the record? Worst. Idea. Ever.”

“I didn’t see you suggesting better!”

Sam twisted to glare at his brother, which was difficult only because they were swinging upside down, their legs caught in a tangled web of what Sam swore was spider webbing. “I did. I suggested: don’t. That was a better idea.”

“Look, we have it where we want it…”

“When we get down from here – if we ever get down from here – I will kill you. With my bare hands. Twice.”

“THAT is the kind of spirit I like to see!” A man leapt out of the woods wearing a very old fashioned hunting suit. He was short and stocky and had a pencil thin mustache, and was smiling manically. “Why kill someone once when you can get an encore out of it? Twice, at least!” He walked up and set Dean spinning. “This one? Maybe three times. He’s been dead before. You’d need a head start.”

“HEY!” Dean howled, but it sounded watery and Sam hoped he didn’t throw up, for appearances sake.

“Gomez, darling, don’t play with your food.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up – down, as the case may be – as a tall, slender, elegant woman tottered into the area. She was wearing a black pencil dress and had long black hair and was, by far, the most gothic looking goth Sam had ever seen in his life. Beautiful, in an imperial kind of way.

“Dean?” Sam asked, because he was quite frankly out of any other ideas.

“Sa…Sa…Sammmm…” Dean was still spinning, and not sounding very good.

“Wait!” The woman raised her hand. Dean stopped spinning, and Sam was lowered to the ground slowly. He tried not to focus too much on the spidery legs above his head doing the heavy lifting. As he tried to get his bearings and untangle himself from what was definitely sticky gooey spider webbing, the woman crept up on him, her gaze sharp and focused like a predator’s. He froze and stared at her, feeling like a trapped bug.

“Morticia! Be careful. They were after poor Rupert there…” The man – Gomez – gestured at the tree, and a long spindly arachnid leg waved back happily. “They might be…hunters.” Gomez lowered his voice.

Morticia gasped and Gomez whipped a fencing saber out of his walking cane, touching the tip to Sam’s chest.

“You hurt him, and I’ll kill you twice,” Dean growled. Sam had to give his brother points for being pretty impressive even when hanging upside down in a spider web and looking a bit green around the gills from all the spinning.

“Ha! Lesser men have tried! And succeeded!” Gomez whipped the saber around somewhat randomly.

“Now now, dearheart, this is no time to brag.” Morticia batted her eyes and Gomez stopped prancing around to puff up his chest. She turned back to Sam. “Sam Winchester, I presume?”

“Don’t answer that!” Dean yelled, but Sam figured they were screwed as it was, what with the big spider and the crazy possibly cannibalistic sociopaths and the werewolf they had been hunting still out there, somewhere. He nodded.

Morticia clasped her hands together and looked towards the sky. “Oh Gomez! The Lost Ones! They have returned to us!”

“Morticia! You don’t mean!”

“I do!” Morticia spread her arms as if expecting Sam to run into them. He scooted backwards.

Dean squinted at everyone while Sam sat on the ground, trying to figure out how to run for it without actually abandoning his brother, although that plan was starting to look really, really good to him. Morticia was smiling at him as if he were made of chocolate…or something, probably something he did not want to know about.

“Uhm…”

“My aunt’s grandsons! They have come home!”

“Uh, no; no, we were looking for a werewolf…”

“Of course you were! Aren’t we all?” Gomez walked over and slapped Dean’s hip, sending him spinning again.

“Uh, Miss…Ms….Mrs. Morticia? I think maybe there’s been some mistake? My brother and I…”

“Yes! I know! Deanna Frump’s grandsons! She married that horrible hunter, what was his name?”

“Samuel Campbell?” Sam hazarded.

“Yes!” Morticia frowned in disapproval. “Although I suppose he was rather dashing, taking on Cousin Curdle in hand to hand combat over that pit of poisonous snakes…”

“Ahhh! Memories!” Gomez smiled and spun Dean again, who whined.

Morticia clapped her hands and Dean was unceremoniously dumped on the ground mid-spin with a thud. He grimaced and snarled at Sam. “Why’d you get the soft touch?”

Sam shook his head and stood up, realizing that Morticia was nearly as tall he was. “Uhhh…”

“Oh look, Gomez! Cousin Mary must have struck a deal with Azazel!” Morticia waved a hand over Sam indicating his height. Sam cringed, and Dean was instantly on the defense, although slightly hampered by the sticky goo all over his lower half.

“Never fall far from the tree, do they? You mother will be so proud.” Gomez grabbed Dean and shook him, as if he could get him loose of the webbing that way. Dean tried to push him off but Sam was surprised to see how ineffectual that was as they devolved into some kind of psychotic game of paddy cakes. Meanwhile Morticia moved up and put her arm through his, and he shuddered at the feel of her cold, marble like skin. She gave him a craven smile which might have been coquettish on someone – anyone – else, and Sam tried to smile back without shivering. He looked up to see Gomez twirling Dean.

“Tango?” Sam squeaked.

“Shut…up…I can’t…stop…” Dean snarled when Gomez dipped him.

“It runs in the family.” Morticia said solemnly. “So, Samuel…We have so much in common, I can’t wait to hear all about your life. Tell me, did you ever get addicted to demon’s blood? Don’t lie, I can tell; it gave me the same complexion problems. Ah! Youth! Wasted on the young.” Morticia walked off still clamped on Sam’s arm and he stumbled after her, Dean tango-marched ahead of them into the woods by Gomez.

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