Chapter Text
"…second week of the search for billionaire Vladimir Masters. His disappearance has prompted renewed speculation regarding the whereabouts of his ward, Daniel Fenton, who has been missing since—"
The radio shut off with a sharp click, and Ed looked up with a scowl from the newspaper clippings he was reading at his desk. "Hey, I was listening to that!"
Maggie shot him an unimpressed look and sat down on the edge of his desk, strategically blocking his reach of the radio. Sisters—adopted or otherwise—could be the worst. "That's the same thing they've been saying all week. No one's going to murder a billionaire; they'd steal some of his money out from under his nose or blackmail him for a piece of the pie. I'd bet he just dropped off the grid to search for his kid without the press breathing down his neck."
Fenton had given exactly one public interview after his family's freak accident and Masters' subsequent guardianship, and he'd told reporters in no uncertain terms that Masters wasn't his father and would never replace his father, and then he'd dissolved into tears and the entire thing had ended. His feelings might have changed on the matter, but Ed doubted it. He wasn't sure things would have had a chance to really settle down before Fenton's disappearance. "Fenton's not his kid—"
"His ward, then." Maggie rolled her eyes. "Seriously. You were a lot closer to being onto something with that circus."
Ed straightened up. "That's because there is something there. Circus Gothica is back." He hesitated. "Was back. Before the raid. Which was totally covered up. I've been in contact with another believer, and she's working with me to figure it out, digging up loads of stuff Harry and I haven't found. You can't not see it—"
"You can't not think you aren't just falling down a conspiracy theory rabbit hole. The government did not raid a circus. It'd be all over the news."
"That's why it's called a coverup. If you look at any of what Claire's sent—"
"If it's a coverup, then by what agency? Against my better judgement, I looked into it like you asked—don't give me that look; you know I did—and there is nothing on the official sites—"
"Because it wasn't legal."
"No, because whatever so-called government branch you think raided a circus doesn't exist. Because it's a circus. I mean, I looked anyway. Even poked around some definitely unofficial stuff. But if a raid happened, the government didn't do it. And if it was someone masquerading as the government, they're being tight-lipped. Or, more likely…."
More likely, she meant, there hadn't been a raid, and the whole thing had been a publicity stunt at best and a practical joke that had gotten out of control at worst.
Ed threw up his hands. Maggie had never wanted to believe she'd missed something when she had, even when they'd been kids, and she'd definitely gotten worse since she'd gotten into roller derby again. Getting her and Spruce back for a reunion episode for their old fans had been like pulling teeth. As it was, they hadn't gotten enough footage to use yet, since her practices were cutting down on the 'Facer sessions she could attend, and he knew if he couldn't find something juicy, he'd lose her for good.
He'd thought Circus Gothica might be that something.
It hadn't been.
Yet.
"Fine," he conceded. "According to the sheeple—"
"You saying that just makes you sound more like a conspiracy theorist. I am not editing any more of your videos if you keep using that term."
That wasn't the hill he wanted to die on. That, or the secret government agency that had (whatever Maggie believed) raided the circus.
"Okay, okay, so the circus collapsed for totally normal reasons and the government wasn't involved at all, and there's nothing weird about it. Happy?"
Her expression made it clear she wasn't happy.
She probably knew he wasn't done.
"But, seriously, it's Circus Gothica. The MO is the same! All those robberies from locked rooms and stuff. No one catching anything on camera. Functional alarms not getting tripped when they should. Besides, it's the same ringmaster, I know it is, and—"
"And the freakshow is alive. Even if it is something, let the Winchesters deal with it. They're dicks, but they're effective, and we've always only dealt with ghosts. It's in the name. And the theme song you two wrote. We face the ghosts when others will not."
He'd be touched she had remembered all the words well enough to make that remark if he hadn't done such a bang-up job on the lyrics to go with Harry's tune. And the Winchesters…. He wasn't surprised she'd remembered them. "If those douchenozzles cared, they'd have done something about it already. And they haven't!"
"Because there's nothing to do or because you haven't bothered to contact them about it?"
"You're missing the point!" Harry believed that Ed and Claire were onto something, but then, Harry had agreed to come back to work with him on a so-called trial basis that was still ongoing. Having Harry on his side wouldn't be enough to convince her. "All those crimes tied to the circus might be ghosts. Just, like, ghosts tied to some object the ringmaster carries around, not people who are anchored by their remains. That's why no one's pieced it together. That's why, if you let me pursue this, I can figure it out because I'm not overlooking the same thing as everyone else."
"I've let you pursue it, and you haven't figured it out." She plastered that annoying false smile on her face, which meant he'd pushed his luck too far for one conversation. "If ghosts do a crime, it's murder, not robbery." Her voice was overly sweet, but it was sharp, too, and—behind that—fragile. Fragile as glass. Since Corbett—
Alan J. Corbett had fallen in the line of duty, doing what he'd loved.
And probably because he'd loved Ed, but admitting that to himself hurt, even after this long.
At least Ambyr had lived, even if she had been scarred. Horribly, horribly scarred.
"Ghosts don't have any reason to steal stuff," Maggie continued. "Ergo, not ghosts. Not even death echoes or a tulpa."
"But if the ringmaster can control the ghosts—"
"Why the heck do you think a circus ringmaster can control ghosts?"
Ha! He'd gotten her and she hadn't even realized it. "Claire found this old book by this Showenhower guy. Like, a series of digital files for different chapters, and it's got all kinds of things in it. Including rumours of artifacts used to bind ghosts to your control."
"Uh huh. And by found, do you mean read about in a post on some obscure forum of the internet?"
"Claire's working on getting her hands on a hard copy so we can see what's in the corrupted files, but Fryer_Tuck would not have been trying to shut down all discussion about it if it weren't legit. If he hadn't gone radio silent a while back, I don't think any of us would know about it. I think he'd have scrubbed it."
"You and I both know that's way easier to say than to do."
"Yeah, but his skills are legendary."
"If he's so good, why are we even having this conversation? Why would he stop before accomplishing his goal if you're so sure that was his goal?" She raised a finger. "If you're about to tell me you think you can connect him to a missing persons case and that the circus kidnapped him, I'm walking out on this whole thing right now."
"Nah, if he joined the circus, it'd be on purpose. So he could go undercover or something. Whatever got his attention must have been bigger than this."
"Which means this isn't as big as you think it is after all. Because it's nothing."
"It's not nothing. Claire—"
"Your new friend Claire isn't here," snapped Maggie, "and you're getting so wrapped up in chasing pretend ghosts that you're not focusing on real ones. Harry gave you that story about the haunted cabin, didn't he? Let Claire chase the Circus Gothica story if you two think there's something there. If we're doing this, then let's do this. With the real fish we have to fry."
Ed frowned. At least Maggie was bringing this up now and not at one of the official sessions. "Rule numero uno: trust the homework."
"Phase one has always been to do the homework. If you blindly trust it, you're just setting yourself up to find whatever you want to see." She slid off his desk. "Which is what you're doing now, so maybe just take a step back for a few days? Let's hit up these haunted woods and see if we can get any more footage for your episode, and when that's all done, you can go back to this."
And she could leave and get back to her normal life.
She was probably already regretting her choice to come back; the fact that she'd stuck it out must be because she still loved him. Couldn't break that adopted sibling bond.
Still, the truth of the matter was plain: he was the one true 'Facer. Harry was second, in the process of earning his way up to close second, and if this worked out, he might be fully reinstated as a partner.
But what that all boiled down to? They really couldn't do this without him.
Ed smirked at Maggie and decided that it was important enough to voice aloud. "You cannot do this without me."
"I mean, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you," she said, but she said it in a way that made him wonder how long she'd be here. Maybe she really was thinking of bailing before they finished the reunion episode.
Huh.
He'd email Claire and let her know the situation. She knew he'd been planning this reunion episode, so the news that it was a go shouldn't be a surprise. If she had a regular 9:00 to 5:00, she could read his email on her lunch break. Or her coffee break, if she got those. Just because he was off today, he shouldn't assume that she was, even if she had emailed him after midnight last night.
"True." He leaned back in his chair. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt. What'd Harry find?" He'd agreed to let Harry lead the next session solo so he could focus on the mystery that was Circus Gothica, and he wasn't used to going into things blind. The file on it Harry had given him on the haunted cabin had been the proposal, and that had been bare bones at best. Since Harry knew how much Ed liked getting into the meat of it all, it was a deliberate attempt to give him just enough to catch his interest and tease him about what was actually there.
Maggie, if her amused expression was anything to go by, clearly knew it. "If you don't already know, then you'll find out at seven with Spruce. Just like old times."
Part of Harry had never been wild about Ed's idea to have a reunion of the Ghostfacers, but the others had agreed, so he hadn't warned them off.
He still had mixed feelings about what had happened two years ago with the whole Thinman incident, but they'd mostly worked past it.
They'd worked past it enough for this, anyway.
Now, Ed was trusting him to find them a mission worthy of the reunion.
Harry would never admit that he felt a little lost taking point without Ed, because Ed had been with him at the beginning, before the Ghostfacers had ever existed. The Hell Hound's Lair wouldn't have happened without Ed. The Ghostfacers wouldn't have happened without Ed. Harry would have never left and he'd have never come back if it weren't for Ed. Having him distracted by a different mission before they went in for something big was…disconcerting.
On one hand, Harry got it. Ed had answered this Claire chick's email because he was the one who still routinely checked the old account they'd set up for the Hell Hound's Lair. And Claire was, importantly, a girl. A girl who didn't cut and run at the first mention of the supernatural. They were a rare breed.
Ed would like to make them less of a rare breed, with Claire's agreement. And help, obviously, assuming she wasn't off limits for one reason or another. It took two to do that particular tango.
Harry hadn't asked him, but he didn't really need to ask to suspect that that was Ed's thinking.
If she turned out to be a fangirl from the old days who'd been lurking for years and had finally worked up her courage to reach out, now that she'd thought she'd found a case, and was completely uninterested in anything even hinting at that direction, well…. Ed might agree to offer her an internship, even if it was just a trial run while they worked out whatever this was with the whole Circus Gothica Mission. Not-mission. Whatever it was.
Well.
Assuming she didn't know what had happened to their last two interns and think the position was cursed, anyway.
Twice was a coincidence, but they'd never chanced three to see if it was a pattern.
The Circus Gothica thing might not hold water—it certainly wasn't the Colorado Cabin Mission—but it was a safer bet for a newbie, especially if they were doing so much investigating on their own.
Ed was the first to show up to their meeting, taking his usual seat with a sly grin. Maggie was next, a few minutes later. Spruce showed up fifteen minutes late, still stuffing his face with a sandwich.
Harry refused to be put off by that because Spruce had still taken a break from the historical reenactments to come.
"Good morning, Ghostfacers," he said, since it was—traditionally—morning for those who were up all night hunting ghosts. Technically, Spruce was finishing off his breakfast, not his supper. "As some of you already know, this is a mission that, to the unaware and uninitiated, seems to be nothing more than animal attacks."
"Keyword being seems," added Ed, and Harry nodded, because that was true.
"We have seven bodies of hikers torn to shreds within two weeks. These were in groups of two and three, people; they weren't picked off one by one. We'll need to look alive out there."
Spruce, with some obvious effort, swallowed so his mouth wasn't full before he said, "You want us to go after a ghost that targets people in groups. Like we'll be."
"Those hikers weren't prepared like we'll be. Only the first group was on the trail; the other two had gone off the beaten path. And if we triangulate the positions where those bodies were found, Maggie?" She'd helped him with this where Ed had not, prepping with him in place of her brother.
"Satellite imagery tells us there's a cabin pretty much dead centre," she said as she passed around a printed picture of said satellite image with the kill sites circled in red and connected by a triangle in orange, which was circled in yellow. "I think they're guarding it. Orange is the known danger zone, if the parameters don't change, but we need to be wary of anything past the yellow."
Ed was staring at his (adopted) sister. "You're doing this with him?"
"He wanted a second set of eyes," she said. "Yours were preoccupied with the circus."
What she wasn't saying was that, while they might have moved on from their relationship years ago, he still trusted her.
On Ed's cagier days, Harry trusted Maggie more than he did her brother.
He'd never told her what Ed had done, and he assumed that Ed had kept quiet about it, too, but sometimes, he had a feeling Maggie had guessed why Harry had left for a while in the first place.
That was all in the past, though.
The ghost(s) murdering hikers was very much a now-problem.
"The authorities are searching for the animals they suspect to be the cause of these attacks," continued Harry, "but we know from our research that some ghosts can control other ghosts. I think that whichever ghost is haunting that cabin, hiding their treasure from any prying eyes, took their guard dogs with them to the grave."
"One of these guys looks like they were gored," Spruce said as he looked over one of the few photos of the crime scenes Harry had managed to track down. "I don't think a dog did that."
"Guard animals," corrected Harry. "But if we've got someone at the cabin controlling them, then the grave we care about is there. We can salt and burn the whole place if we can't find it."
"What if that just frees the feral ghost animals?" pressed Spruce. "I don't want to do this if I'm just coming back to be gored."
"Won't that free you to sooth their spirits?" Spruce was the resident shaman. Or he had been, anyway. As close as they'd ever gotten to it.
Spruce hummed. "Point," he conceded. "I'll make sure I have my supplies before we set out."
"When are we leaving?" asked Ed. That was a reasonable question, one Harry had frankly expected from Spruce earlier. It would take them nearly a full day to drive there—with them switching off so they could drive through most of the night, regardless of when they started. More practically, they were looking at two days' travel with stops.
"I can take the first shift at the wheel if you can all get ready within the hour." They should be able to, providing they'd paid attention to the code red he'd sent out earlier—high alert, be prepared for anything. He wasn't going to make any bets, though. "Otherwise, six AM sharp."
Thirty-some hours later, with nearly everyone looking like they were reminded why road trips as a group were not as great as they always sounded when they didn't have the luxury of stopping anywhere that seemed interesting, they were heading through the woods towards the cabin. They'd set out that night but—on Ed's recommendation, mind—had ultimately decided to split the drive across two days so they weren't completely exhausted for the mission. Not everyone was in top form anymore, and he didn't want mistakes.
It probably didn't help that Claire had emailed him multiple times and even asked for his phone number so she could call him (something Maggie, in her nosiness, had noticed and quickly shot down, as if she had any say when she didn't believe in the Circus Gothica Mission), but he'd get back to Claire after they finished filming here. He knew it wasn't some omen—likely as not, she was worried he was losing focus on Circus Gothica even though he wasn't—but it was hard not to feel some sense of foreboding when her emails contained phrases like Things changed; we need to talk NOW and Stop ignoring me or I'm doing this without you.
But it was fine. She'd be fine. She might be a surprisingly good investigator, but it wasn't like she was experienced with the supernatural like he was. All that meant was that she'd found something interesting, and he'd have even more evidence to support the Circus Gothica Mission once the Colorado Cabin Mission was over.
But until it was over, the Colorado Cabin Mission was going to be his focus.
Spruce, who'd taken the last driving shift, looked the worst, but he held his camera and flashlight steady. Maggie had another camera in one hand and the EMF meter in the other. Harry and Ed both had cameras strapped on like headlamps while sweeping the area with their own flashlights, sawed-off shotguns full of salt rounds at the ready in case of trouble, and Ed let Harry do the running commentary even though he'd read through every file during their drive. All of them were carrying more equipment, figuring they'd set up the Eagle's Nest in the cabin once they reached it.
They skirted the scenes of two of the three crimes on their way in, with the EMF meter spiking in each spot, and they jumped at an embarrassing number of non-ghost-related animal sounds, but they weren't attacked by any ghosts.
Ed honestly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.
The cabin was empty, at least, and easy enough to break into with a crowbar.
"Set up a salt barrier," Ed ordered. "We wanna keep those animals out."
"And keep whoever's controlling them trapped in here with us?" Spruce asked. "No, thank you."
"You'd rather be gored?"
"He'd rather assume the ghost in charge doesn't want any of his precious stuff ruined," Maggie cut in. "We don't have enough to ring the entire cabin. Especially not if we're salting any graves. Even just doing the doorways and windows is pushing it if we're looking at more than one grave."
"We keep it in reserve for now," Harry decided, and Ed had to take a breath and remind himself that he'd given this opportunity to Harry for a reason.
He couldn't expect trust if he didn't give it, too.
Well, that, and he was still hung up on the Circus Gothica mystery. The Circus Gothica Mission, even though Harry didn't want him to call it that until it was official.
Ed had grudgingly complied.
Mostly.
Out loud.
"We can cut that part out," Ed said to Maggie. "Show everyone a united front."
"Nothing's real on the internet," she muttered, but she was clearly already focused on setting up their command centre.
Ed didn't miss Harry's pointed look, though thankfully he didn't comment.
"This cabin is registered to someone using a false name," Harry said, for the sake of their future viewers. "Large swaths of the surrounding land were purchased by what appears to be a shell corporation. We've tracked it back as far as we can. For privacy's sake, I'll only say that this off-the-grid cabin is not the current location of the known billionaire who is presently off the grid."
Ed's head snapped up so he could meet Harry's eyes, and Harry grinned.
That hadn't been in the papers Harry had drawn up for their team, but he'd never have said it if he weren't sure.
He thought this place belonged to Vladimir Masters.
Ed took a closer look around with that in mind, trying to find something that screamed I belong to the guy who's bought up half the major companies you can name off the top of your head.
If it weren't for the plush velvet curtains and matching deep-red furniture, all too elaborate and ornate to belong just anywhere, it would probably look more like a regular cabin than anything else. It had the rustic wood and even came complete with creepy taxidermy.
Honestly, though, the only thing that really looked out of place was the thermos tucked into the miscellaneous section of the bookcase (below 'paranormal science' and 'knitting') beside what had to be a joke For Dummies book—unless there actually was one titled Romance for Rich Creepy Dimwits, but he doubted that would sell well. The thermos's metal gleamed so brightly it almost looked white, but there was a weird gauge on the side, almost like—
"Maggie, where's the EMF meter?" he asked.
"Spruce has it," she said without looking up. "He's putting up a camera in the bedroom. Before you ask, Harry's with him. They're doing the basic EMF, EVP, temp-flux sweep."
"I think I got something," he said, and she turned to look at him at last.
"What?"
He pointed to the thermos with his flashlight beam. "That's out of place."
"It's a soup thermos," she said flatly. "Or one for coffee or something. The guy who owns this place probably has it there so he can read and drink something hot at the same time. If he keeps it in here, he doesn't have to worry about losing it."
"But it doesn't fit in with everything else."
She pointed at the taxidermy animals lining one wall. "Does that fit in with everything else?"
It fit with the murder cabin vibe, as far as he was concerned. "The cameras are all working?" It was easier to change the subject than to argue. He'd learned that back when they were kids. He would push it when it mattered, but this didn't matter.
"Kitchen and bedroom are up now," she murmured, too focused on her work again to notice him setting the flashlight down so its beam pointed towards the ceiling. He picked up the thermos and turned it over in his hands, mildly disconcerted by the way the thing seemed to give off a very faint, high-pitched hum and the way it almost felt like it was vibrating beneath his fingertips.
That could just be nerves, though.
Maybe.
"Don't need one in the Eagle's Nest, obviously," continued the oblivious Maggie, "but given the trouble we've been having, it's probably smart to put a few outside to watch the perimeter; these ghosts aren't housebound even if the one controlling them probably is."
Ed hummed in acknowledgement, but his main focus was on the thermos. Now that he was taking a closer look at it, he'd only confirmed what he'd suspected. "Hey, there's some kind of gauge on this. It's not a normal thermos."
Maggie glanced over her shoulder at him. "What?"
He showed her the electronic display on the side that read 2% in cheery pink lettering. Somehow, that made the thermos seem even more out of place now than it had before.
"So it's not a normal thermos. Seriously, this place belongs to a billionaire. You shouldn't expect to find normal anything, just the guy's idea of it—if he was even going for that." She looked pointedly at the taxidermy and then at the plush furniture and added, "Jury's out on that one, I think."
"Yeah, but what's the 2% even mean then?" Ed shook the thermos for emphasis, and it didn't so much as rattle. "There's nothing in here."
"Could be stuffed with bills. Like a piggy bank for the absurdly rich. Or maybe it's some self-heating thermos, and that's the charge that's left before it's dead and it is just a regular thermos."
"Or," Ed countered, "it looks out of place because it is out of place, and this doesn't belong to a billionaire but to the ghost."
"Ghosts can't move whatever object they're tied to on their own."
"Okay, fine, so it belongs to Masters, but it's the ghost's. He didn't know he purchased a haunted object. That might even be why he's missing. Maybe we should try to track down transaction records—"
"If that thing belonged to a vengeful ghost, we'd be getting attacked right about now, wouldn't we?"
It was as if her words had called upon the universe's sense of irony when his flashlight flickered at the same time as her laptop screen.
They really ought to know better than to say that kind of thing out loud.
He grabbed at his radio even though yelling would probably have done the trick. "Harry, Spruce, check in!"
"EMF's climbing," was Spruce's reply, and Ed realized with no small sense of relief that he could hear Spruce's voice (and the slow crescendo of the EMF meter's familiar squeal) both over the radio and from one of the adjoining rooms. "We've gotta look alive."
"I've got movement out the west window," added Harry, "and the temp in here's already dropping."
Maggie cursed as something sparked and her laptop died entirely. "We've lost visual. The Eagle's Nest is flying blind."
"Back to base, now," ordered Ed. "We'll salt the room, try to re-establish a connection, and see if we can spot any clues about—" He broke off abruptly and spun, sure he'd seen movement, too, and—
Maggie swore again and picked up the dead laptop in one hand and his flashlight in the other and ran for the door, clearly assuming he'd be following her.
Following her totally would've been the plan if the bear rug that they'd been standing on hadn't shifted under his feet. It would've been the plan if a giant green ghost of a bear hadn't risen on its haunches in front of him. It would've been the plan if the glowing beast hadn't reached out a paw to swipe at him. It would've been the plan if he'd been able to think of a plan besides screaming.
There was a gunshot, and Ed was on the floor before he realized the gun would've been aiming at the ghost, not at him, and that all their guns were filled with salt rounds, which would've hurt him but not killed him.
The ghost….
The ghost was still there.
The ghost should not still be there.
Who would've missed a target that big? They'd have to do more target practice if they survived this. There was no way someone shouldn't have hit the ghost.
The same ghost that was back on all fours and entirely too close to him.
Ed scrambled to get to his feet and then someone—Harry—was helping him up and half running, half dragging him outside. Ed heard another gunshot and realized Harry must've given his gun to Spruce, which meant their footage of this incident might not even be good enough for their show unless he could salvage some off the camera strapped to his forehead….
That didn't matter right now.
Getting out of here alive mattered.
Ed would never admit this out loud, but he wouldn't be sad if the Winchesters showed up right now.
"Why isn't this frickin' thing working?" Spruce was beside them and passing the gun back to Harry, which was about the point that Ed realized he could run on his own. "Are these things not ghosts? Salt's not slowing them down."
Ed stumbled but managed to keep his feet. "Them?"
"Look out!"
Maggie's warning came too late as the cougar sprang out of nowhere, and Ed found himself fighting to keep his face on his face and not have it repurposed as some ghost's choice dinner. He didn't seem to have a free hand to pull any extra salt from the bag in his pocket, but he'd had Maggie sew some iron filings into his sleeve cuffs, which might have helped.
Another gunshot, and the cougar—still very much not dissipated into smoke like it should be—let out an unearthly shriek and mercifully left Ed alone to deal with a more hostile target instead of finishing him off first.
Ed had no idea where his gun was. Inside, maybe. He hadn't grabbed anything before leaving. He'd been holding onto the thermos, and then….
And then he'd been running.
He had no idea when he'd dropped the thermos—when he was trying to escape the bear? When he was fighting off the cougar?—but frankly he didn't care about that. The way things were going, though, he would need his gun if they were going to survive this.
Which meant he'd have to go back inside.
Ed took a steadying breath or ten and then pushed himself up, narrating what he could for whatever they could salvage for the show from this disaster of a mission. "The guard ghosts are here." That part was unnecessary if any footage was salvageable, but still. "They're tied more strongly to this area than we were expecting, and we'll need to figure out what's keeping them here if we're going to get rid of them. But for all those foolish enough to doubt, here's your proof that all those hikers weren't torn to shreds in freak wild animal attacks. These are deliberate ghost attacks, people, and the authorities combing these woods for whatever animal they think did this are either going to die themselves or find zip, zilch, nada." It felt wrong to do this without Harry. Harry should have jumped in with something by now. "We haven't seen the ghost controlling these animal ghosts, but they're protective of the cabin, so if we salt and burn the entire place, we should—"
He broke off as he spotted the thermos.
The cap had come off at some point.
That, on its own, shouldn't matter.
What did matter was the new ghost.
"Looks like the ringmaster was young when he died." Ed couldn't stand around observing when he didn't have his gun and the ghosts weren't letting up. He had to keep his head on a swivel, but he didn't seem to have anything on him the ghosts wanted. They weren't going for him like they were for Maggie and Spruce and—
And Harry.
Was he going to get his best friends and his adopted sister killed because he'd talked them into doing this as a reunion episode?
He had to get past the new ghost and at his gun. The kid was laying low, maybe trying not to seem like a threat, but Ed moved in a zigzag pattern anyway. By the time he had to start running from the ghost of a raccoon, the kid had abandoned all pretense and was on his feet. He'd died bloody if the glowing green that streaked his weird suit was supposed to be blood.
Pain.
Ed did not see the mountain goat until he was on the ground with what was definitely broken ribs if not a broken arm.
"The master ghost can control them through gestures," wheezed Ed, since as his vision came back, he realized he could see the boy thrusting out his arms from the corner of his eye. The wild gesticulating must have called off the mountain goat (Ed wasn't currently being trampled) but set it on someone else (he wasn't sure who from this vantage point). "Or maybe he controls them with his mind but he likes how the gestures look. Some ghosts have more of a sense of theatre than others."
That was Harry's cue to jump in to build off of what he'd been saying—or rather, it was Ed's cue to jump back in after Harry had just said what he had—but Harry wasn't beside him right now. Harry was maybe getting attacked by the ghost of a mountain goat, and Ed needed to move instead of saying Harry's lines for him and feeling like something was missing.
Ed's focused narrowed, and he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled forward.
The bear wasn't inside anymore. Ed didn't know where the bear was. As long as it wasn't here, that was a good thing, because right now, all Ed needed was his gun, and—
There.
Gun in hand, back outside, spot the best target—
The kid.
The ghost kid would be the best target if he was controlling all of them.
At some point, Ed lost track of what thoughts were being said aloud and what was simply running through his head. He should care. For the sake of their show, for the sake of their reunion, he should care.
But there wasn't going to be a show, reunion or no, if they all died here.
Ed's arm wasn't broken after all, but moving it still hurt. Aiming still hurt. The recoil would hurt. Everything would hurt.
He pulled the trigger.
Bullseye.
Okay, so not exactly a bullseye, but Ed knew he'd hit his target. Even through a fresh wave of pain, he saw the kid fly backwards with the force of the shot.
Unfortunately, the ghost didn't vanish, and his minions didn't waver.
Maybe that had just been the kid's way of avoiding the shot?
There wasn't time to second guess things. Ed readied the gun for a second shot and fought with it for precious seconds before he realized that he was having trouble because it had jammed, not because he was injured.
Maggie could edit out some of that later. No one needed to know he'd tried to do the exact same thing three times in a row and had failed all three times. They needed to sell confidence and bravery in the face of supernatural threats, not apparent incompetence and idiocy. The Winchesters would have a field day, and frankly Ed didn't want to deal with looking at their smug faces after they'd watched him waste time doing something stupid.
But he wouldn't have to, not even if they saw each other again, because Maggie would edit most of that out and just leave a bit in for flavour. She was going to get out of this alive to do those edits. He'd make sure of it. She was the best adopted sister anyone could ask for, and he wasn't going to lose her after dragging her back into this. He wouldn't.
He couldn't.
Someone was yelling his name. Ed blinked, realized he'd lost track of the fight for a second, and shoved aside the thought that maybe he was hurt worse than he'd realized if he was zoning out like that. There were more immediate things to focus on, like the bear turning up again.
He kept fiddling with the gun, but he was shaking too much to do himself any good.
He didn't want to die here.
He didn't want any of them to die here.
They weren't supposed to die; they were just supposed to help.
He saw the moose charge at Spruce.
He saw the wolf cut off Maggie's escape.
He saw Harry trip in his rush for Maggie a split second before the cougar leapt.
And then the bear knocked him over, and fire tore into his flesh even as he tried to curl in on himself and avoid the claws, and Ed knew what those hikers had felt like.
He was going to die.
He was going to be mauled to death by the ghost of a bear.
They were all going to die.