Hollywood Apocalypse (3/5)
The bar they found wasn’t too far away from the motel and even though Misha claimed there was no risk of his being recognized, Dean still found them a table in the corner away from everyone else.
“I got this,” Misha said when Sam and Dean started looking over the menu, instinctively gravitating towards the cheapest things they had. “I owe you for keeping me company tonight.”
Dean shrugged. No way was he ever one to turn down free food, even though he knew it would be polite to refuse. “Okay, thanks but at least let me buy you a beer.”
“Deal.”
The food wasn’t bad. Just the right side of too greasy and Dean dug into his burger while Sam picked a little more delicately at his nachos.
“So,” Misha said as they ate. “How long have you guys been in Hollywood?”
“Not that long,” Sam replied, and Dean knew the lies would soon fall easily from his brother’s tongue. They made up shit like this every day but this was the first time Dean actually felt kind of bad about it. Misha was a decent guy and he sure as hell talked straight. Dean wished he could do the same.
“Yeah, we just came here on vacation,” Dean added, figuring he may as well mix in some truth with the lies. “I just kind of fell into the PA gig but it’s pretty awesome.”
“Dean loves movies,” Sam said almost apologetically. “Always has, but not like your Oscar winning types of movies and more like the Ed Wood types.”
Dean shrugged. “Nothing wrong with my taste in movies. I just like them. Our dad was away a lot when we were growing up so I used to sit up and watch them. I dunno, they kind of comforted me I guess.”
“I’m not sure what it says about you that you found monster movies comforting as a child,” Misha replied, but the look Sam shot him told Dean that his brother knew exactly what he was talking about.
On-screen monsters were safe, a way to escape from the reality of what was actually out there.
“What can I say?” Dean replied with shrug. “I’m a complex guy.”
“I’m starting to see that. You know, you never told me what it is you guys do. I know PA wasn’t your first career choice, Dean. You mentioned something about a family business?”
Sam shot Dean a look, which really wasn’t needed. Despite what had happened earlier when he’d talked about his dad, Dean wasn’t about to start shooting off his mouth about the hunting lifestyle in the middle of a crowded bar.
Misha’s gaze fixed firmly on Dean and it was starting to give him that weird, uncomfortable feeling again. There was something about the way Misha looked at him that was really kind of unsettling. Like he was looking right inside Dean and could immediately tell whether he was lying.
“I’m a mechanic, same as my dad was,” Dean replied smoothly. “Sam here is a lawyer in training.”
Again, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Dean always imagined himself working with cars if their lives had been different, and that had been their dad’s job before he got into the hunting game. Dean was also in no doubt that Sam would have made it as a hotshot lawyer if Jess hadn’t been killed.
Misha’s gaze lingered; Dean didn’t move a muscle and instead looked right back at him. Years of conning made him know all the tells when it came to lying.
Finally Misha smiled and nodded, turning his attention to Sam. “What area of law are you specializing in? I considered it for a while before I got into acting.”
“I’m kind of interested in personal injury,” Sam replied, and Dean was almost surprised. They’d never really talked about the whole law school thing after Jessica had died and even now Dean had no idea what Sam had wanted to do with his life beyond ‘hotshot lawyer’.
“I wanted to help out the regular guy, you know,” Sam continued. “There’s all these huge corporations out there who hide behind their money and I just wanted to do something about that.”
Misha nodded. “I was more interested in environmental law myself.”
Sam’s eyes lit up. “That would have been my second choice!”
Dean sat back and listened as Sam started chatting enthusiastically about the latest changes to the laws on CO2 emissions and Misha seemed to be genuinely interested. The guy really wasn’t what Dean had expected at all. He’d kind of figured Misha would be vapid like most actors, but he was keeping up with Sam’s legal speak easily and offering his own opinions on the matter.
This was just what Sam needed. A little dose of normality after all the shit that had been tossed at him this year. It was almost like looking at a totally different person. Sam was relaxed and smiling and it made Dean want to do something for Misha for giving this to his brother.
He noticed, with an amused smile, that Sam was so caught up in the conversation that he didn’t pay any attention to the fact that Misha kept refilling his glass every time it got even close to being empty. The more Sam drank the more animated he became, gesturing excitedly with his hands as he explained his point.
It wouldn’t last. Dean knew that tomorrow Sam would be back to his usual pensive and brooding self but at least for now he seemed to be enjoying himself.
When the conversation finally slowed down, Sam lurched to his feet and stumbled slightly before grinning. “Bathroom. Back in a minute.”
Dean sighed. He could tell Sam was well on his way to being wasted and part of him thought it would do the kid some good, even after their last conversation after Sam had made a date with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. That being said, he really didn’t want to have to carry his brother’s drunken ass back to the motel.
Misha sat back in his chair, eyeing Dean with curiosity, like he was trying to figure him out. Dean smirked. Plenty of people had tried in the past but he was an expert at not letting people in, even Sam when it suited him.
Misha saw Dean’s smirk and simply smiled, an unspoken challenge being set between them.
The moment was shattered by Sam collapsing back into his seat with a happy sigh.
“Beer is awesome,” he beamed.
“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “It is.”
He briefly considered finding a girl for Sam to hook up with while he was drunk and happy like this. That way Sam would be occupied while he and Misha had some fun of their own. Unfortunately he knew that Sam would never go for it, not even while his guard was down like it was now. Which meant that Dean wasn’t going to see any action either. No way could he leave Sam when he wasn’t in a fit state to defend himself if he needed to.
Damnit.
“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Misha asked, apparently catching the look on Dean’s face. “The night is still young.”
“Yeah,” Sam added. “C’mon, Dean. It’s still early.”
Well, there was no way in hell Dean was going to be the one who called it an early night before they all got wasted.
“I’ll get the beer.”
* * *
“Are you sure he’s not going to puke in my cab?”
The taxi driver eyed Sam suspiciously where he sat slumped against Dean in the back seat while Misha rode up front.
“He’s fine,” Misha said smoothly and clearly there was something about the way he said it because the driver didn’t say anything further, just grunted and headed back in the direction of the motel.
When they arrived, Misha paid the driver and then came around to help Dean unload Sam from the car.
“Thanks, man,” Dean groaned as his knees buckled underneath Sam’s weight. “I probably should have cut him off an hour ago.”
They stumbled towards the room and Dean kept one arm wrapped around Sam while he used the other to unlock the door.
“Come on, Sammy, help us out here,” he grunted as they staggered inside and eventually got him deposited on the bed.
“Kill me,” Sam mumbled as Dean pulled his boots off and Misha chuckled softly.
“Looks like he’s already anticipating the killer hangover in the morning.”
Dean didn’t reply. Instead he set Sam’s boots down neatly at the foot of the bed so he wouldn’t trip over them if he got up for the bathroom in the night. Then he stood up and stretched.
“You wanna crash here tonight? I’m probably not going to sleep much anyway.”
He didn’t sleep well on a normal night, and had no problem giving up his bed for the few hours that were left before sunrise.
Misha shrugged. “I’m good actually.”
Sam let out another murmur under his breath and curled in on himself.
“Hey, thanks for tonight,” Dean said as they both turned around to look at Sam. “He. . .well, it hasn’t been an easy few months for him.”
“It sounds like you’ve both been through a rough time,” Misha replied and laid a hand on Dean’s arm. “I know it doesn’t mean a lot coming from a guy you barely know, but it will get better, I promise.”
Dean sighed. “Yeah, I’m not so sure. Bad shit seems to follow us around.”
He could feel the heat from Misha’s hand seeping through his shirt, sending the warmth spreading through him. Man, he really needed to get laid soon. He glanced over at Sam who was out cold. No reason why they couldn’t. . .
He almost shivered when Misha withdrew his hand and flashed him a soft smile. “I guess what matters is how you deal with the bad shit when it comes your way.”
Dean snorted. “What, you mean like get high and trash my stuff?”
“A momentary glitch,” Misha shrugged. “I just wish I knew who the hell was doing this. Why are they interested in me?”
Great, the last thing Dean needed was Misha poking around and getting in the way while he and Sam hunted whatever the hell this thing was.
“Look,” he said in what he hoped was Sam’s reassuring voice. “This guy is obviously some whack-job and you don’t want to go getting yourself killed, right? Let the cops handle it.”
Or us.
“But it’s got to be someone I know, right?” Misha shot back. “And it’s got to be someone who has access to the set. People can’t just walk in off the street.”
Dean begged to differ.
“I’m pretty good at reading people,” Misha continued. “All I need to do is start talking to them.”
“Okay, say you’re right,” Dean sighed. “Say it’s someone who works on the set. How many people are in the cast and crew? Hundreds. You’re just going to talk to them all, hope that someone acts suspiciously and that the cops will buy that as evidence?”
“I’ll think of something,” Misha replied.
Before Dean could think of any other way of talking sense into him, Misha pulled out his phone and called for a cab. Damnit, there was a reason Sam usually handled this sort of thing.
“I’m going to go and wait outside,” Misha said. “I need some air and you need to get some sleep. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?”
“Great,” Dean muttered. “Just great.”
He collapsed onto his bed, trying to ignore the snoring that was coming from his brother. Not that it really made much difference. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep.
* * *
He woke up to the sound of Sam groaning in the bathroom and he couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over his face.
“Hey, Sam, you want some bacon for breakfast?”
“Die,” Sam groaned, followed quickly by the sound of retching.
Dean wasn’t totally heartless and he found some Tylenol in the bottom of his bag and wandered into the bathroom to fill a glass with some water.
“Here,” he said, handing the pills and the water to Sam.
Sam nodded gratefully and knocked the pills back, using half the water to swallow them and the other half to rinse his mouth out.
“For the record, I hate your new friend.”
“He’s not my friend, he’s our case,” Dean replied although the words sounded flat and half-hearted even to him. “And you need to get up because he’s decided to investigate this thing himself.”
Sam groaned again. “He’s going to get himself killed. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with yet.”
“All the more reason to get moving.”
“Yeah, okay, I’m coming.”
* * *
Misha was in the middle of shooting a scene when they arrived on set and Dean had to take a moment to watch him. The movie was kind of lame, and not the sort of lame that Dean loved. Guy moves into an apartment that’s haunted by a chick who doesn’t realize she’s dead and falls in love with him, and then in true horror movie style she goes nuts and starts killing everyone he knows in a jealous rage.
Still, even with the lame plot Misha was nailing the scene. It was like Dean was watching a totally different person. Everything about Misha was different, his mannerisms, facial expression, posture, even his voice.
“Cut!” the director called and just like that, with a snap, he was Misha again.
“Come on,” Sam said with a tug of Dean’s arm. “We need to go and look at where the body was found.”
Dean nodded his head, eyes still on Misha who grinned and gave him a small wave before resuming his conversation with the director.
As Dean followed Sam, he absolutely wasn’t thinking about the way Misha’s smile hit him like a punch to the gut.
* * *
There was a chalk outline on the ground where the body had been removed and a dark patch where the blood had stained the floor.
Dean’s jacket lay to one side in a crumpled heap on the floor, torn and sticky with Dave’s blood. It was weird seeing it like that, as though it could easily have been Dean’s remains in the morgue.
“There’s no EMF,” Sam murmured as he ran his reader over the blood stain. “Doesn’t look like it was a spirit that did this.”
“I thought we already decided it was vampires,” Dean replied as he tore his eyes away from the shredded jacket. “So all we need to do is find the nest, torch it and the job’s done.”
Sam sighed. “When is it ever that easy, Dean? We have no idea where to even start looking for a vampire nest in a city this size and they don’t exactly like to advertise their whereabouts. LA is the perfect place to hide. No one is going to pay any attention to a gang that only comes out at night.”
“Right.”
He watched as Sam rose from his crouched position and started to pace. It was something he did when he was thinking, a habit he’d had since he was a kid and used to pace up and down whatever crappy motel room they were in while he tried to memorize stuff for his tests.
“They must be pretty close by,” Sam finally said as his pacing slowed. “Both murders happened during the day which is kind of weird for vampires anyway, but there’s no way they’d risk travelling far in the sunlight.”
Dean nodded. “So we should start checking the warehouses and stuff within, what, a mile radius of here?”
“It’s a good place to start. Come on, let’s get out of here. I can pull some maps off my computer and we can start from there.”
They’d barely made it out of the door when they were stopped.
“Dean! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Dean glanced over his shoulder in case there was some other Dean, and then at Sam who looked just as confused as he was. “Who? Me?”
“Yeah, you’re Misha’s PA, aren’t you?”
“I. . .what?”
“Yes,” Sam answered hurriedly, pushing him forward. “Sorry, he’s just a little. . .well, he hasn’t had his coffee yet.”
Dean shrugged helplessly. He had no idea what the hell was going on but he ran with it.
“Yeah, sorry, caffeine. Need it.”
“You can get as much as you want from Craft but right now I need you in Misha’s trailer. He wants you to run lines with him while we set up the next scene.”
“Okay. . .you know I’m not an actor, right?”
“Yeah, I know that. You’re a P.A. That means personal assistant in case you’d forgotten, so go and assist.”
As the guy turned his back on them, Dean flipped him off. “Come on, Sam, let’s blow this joint.”
He started to move off and stopped when he realized Sam wasn’t following him.
“You know, if Misha needs you to help him out you could stay,” Sam said carefully. “I’ve seen the way you two have been looking at each other.”
“Are you nuts?” Dean asked. “I mean, I’m glad you want me to get laid as much as I do but vampire nest. People dying. Come on, Sam.”
“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It’s just. . .well, I’ll probably get the research done quicker if you’re not there telling me you’re bored every five minutes.”
Dean forced himself to look affronted. “Sammy, you wound me. I can do research.”
“Yeah, when I chain you down and force you,” Sam grinned. “Look, just stay here and help out your new friend. Run lines or whatever. I’ll call you when I’ve got some ideas of where we should be looking.”
“No going in by yourself,” Dean instructed. “Or I’ll kick your ass.”
Sam snorted. “Yeah, Dean. I’m not suicidal. I’ll call you.”
“Okay, good. Well, I guess I’ll see you later then. Have fun.”
Sam grinned and Dean snorted. “Yeah, whatever, dude.”
He’d never admit to Sam that he was actually kind of excited about this. Finally he got to spend some more time alone with Misha.
He grinned and headed off in the direction of Misha’s trailer. This was going to be kind of awesome.
* * *
Misha’s eyes blazed with anger and a trace amount of fear as he stood in front of Dean, body trembling as he attempted to rein in his emotions.
“You need to leave,” he growled, his voice sending a wave of heat pooling in Dean’s gut. “Things were simpler before, and I want to go back to that.”
Dean smirked. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. See, I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to be anyone’s bitch and that includes you. You forget that I know everything about you. All those quiet moments alone in the dark? I’m there with you. I’m not going to leave, and you sure as hell aren’t going to leave me. Nobody leaves me.”
Dean snorted. He couldn’t help himself. “You know this script sucks, right? No offence.”
Misha blinked and in an instant he’d shed all traces of Michael Jameson. Dean could see all the tension melt from his body along with the fear and anger, replaced with his telltale relaxed amusement.
“No offence taken,” Misha grinned. “I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath for this year’s Oscar nominations then?”
“Hey, I’m not saying you were bad. You were pretty damn awesome, actually. But I reckon Sam could write a better script than this, while he’s wasted and half asleep.”
Misha set down the script and pulled a couple of beers out of the mini-fridge, tossing one to Dean and opening his own. “You weren’t too bad yourself. Did you ever think about doing this for a job?”
“Nah,” Dean dismissed with a wave of his hand and scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It’s not really me, you know. I like my jobs to be a little more hands on.”
That wasn’t entirely true. A lot of the hunting gigs involved posing as various officials and Dean had learned pretty early how to pretend to be someone else. He preferred to think of it as conning rather than acting, though. It sounded more manly.
Misha took a seat and Dean sat down opposite him.
“Hey, what’s with the flowers?”
There were several vases containing purple flowers dotted around the trailer and Dean was pretty sure they hadn’t been there last time he was here.
“Someone on set playing a prank,” Misha grinned. “I had a poem published last month and one of the lines was about Jacaranda petals so someone keeps leaving them for me. Kind of gives the place a bit of color, don’t you think?”
Dean shrugged. “I guess.”
They drank in a companionable silence for a while and when Misha finished his beer he set the bottle down on the table with a resolute bang.
“Vampires.”
Dean paused, the bottle halfway up to his lips as he stared at Misha. “What?”
Misha looked serious. More serious than Dean had ever seen him look before, in fact.
“When you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
Dean lowered his bottle slowly and cradled it in his lap, picking at the label with his thumb.
“Have you been smoking again?”
Misha shook his head. “You think I’m crazy, right? Look, I’ve seen a lot of weird shit in my time. It’s really not that farfetched to think that vampires might be real, is it? I mean, what other explanation is there? Trauma to the neck and nearly all the blood drained.”
He shrugged as though it was the most natural suggestion in the world and Dean honestly had no idea how to respond to that. He was used to dealing with hysterical people who were freaking out. It was easy to convince them they’d been seeing things, but Misha was so damn cool about the whole thing.
He matched Misha’s pose, sat back in his seat and drained the last of his beer. “Come on, you gotta know that’s nuts. I mean, sure there are some whackos out there but vampires? Did you watch a lot of Buffy when you were a teenager?”
Misha sighed. “I’m just saying it makes sense.”
“So, what, you gonna run around LA driving wooden stakes through the heart of every goth kid you come across?”
With every word Dean spoke Misha seemed to deflate a little, and Dean had to admit he felt kind of bad about it. Misha was a smart guy and clearly open to belief in the supernatural but it was better for him if he dropped this. Safer, for sure.
Dean rose to his feet and clapped Misha on the shoulder. “You should get some sleep. We had a pretty long night last night.”
He was about to move towards the door when Misha’s hand came up and covered his own where it still rested on Misha’s shoulder.
“I’m not crazy,” Misha said softly. There was a firmness to his voice that left no room for argument so Dean opted not to say anything. He pulled his hand away from Misha’s.
“I need to get back to Sam. We’ve got some work we need to do.”
Misha, thankfully, didn’t press the issue and Dean let himself out. They were going to have to be careful around him from now on. The guy was too damn perceptive for his own good.
Part 4