The Haunted Masquerade Part 2/?
Summary: Jensen just thought that it was just going to be another lame CW Halloween party. Crappy music paired cheap orange colored food that Jared inhaled tons of before going into a sugar coma. What he didn't expect was for some powerful warlock with a serious axe to grind with the stations president to show up and turn everyone into their costumes.
Pairing: Jensen/Jared
Rating: Currently just T for swearing and violence in later parts, but the rating may change to NC-17 if I decide to up the J2 ante. :)
Word Count (so far): 2k+
Warnings: Swearing, violence, future graphic J2, characters death (Not J2) and lots of crack :).
A/N:This story is based off the prompt given by the user tipsy_kitty. The fic is set in our current time (well, a tiny bit ahead of it actually). Please forgive any spelling or structural errors that I might have made. I didn't bother with a beta and read over it a couple times myself, but somehow I always manage to miss a couple random things. It's also been a while since I've done a comment fic, but I just couldn't help myself, lol. In case you're curious, the title is partially taken from the R.L. Stine book The Haunted Mask. What can I say? I’m really a child at heart. Enjoy!
Start from Part 1
Part 2
“Oh, my God, what- Jensen? Shit! Wake up man!” Sam’s terrified voice shouted at him.
Christ, the pain in his head was monstrous! Just moving his eyes behind his closed eyelids set shocks of pain throughout his head.
He didn’t, hoping that if he played dead for a little while longer Sam would let him sleep.
No such luck.
Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and shook him, paired with a sharp, “Jen!”
Dean groaned loudly in pain and made himself to ignore the pain, slowly forcing his eyes open.
He flinched, moaning under the assault from the lights on his vision.
“Fuck!” Sam swore, voice going hushed with intimidation but steely resolve. “Don’t worry Jen, I’ll- just give me a second and I can fix this.” Sam finished sincerely.
He went silent for a moment except for the sound of deep breathing.
Finally, the quiet sound of Sam murmuring something to himself in a language Dean didn’t recognize.
He wanted to ask Sam what the hell he was doing but before Dean could even begin to consider gathering up the energy to attempt speaking a feather-light sensation of Sam touching his forehead startled him into sustained silence.
Dean felt like a window that had just had the fog wiped off of it, the pain instantly lessening to an uncomfortable bust still bearable thrum in his temples.
The world around him seemed to solidify and gradually his vision sharpened enough to distinguish the details of his surroundings.
Licking his dry lips, Dean looked blearily over at his brother. “S’my?” Dean slurred out weakly, voice hoarse and strained.
Sam’s hazy figure jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice, body turning towards him.
“Thank God man! You had me scared for a minuet there.” The relief in Sam’s voice was palpable.
“Wha-“ Dean coughed harshly, clearing his throat. “What happened?” He finished tiredly. He looked around, which only added to his confusion.
They were in some sort of studio that had Halloween decorations strewn everywhere. Dozens of unconscious costume-clad people lay all around them quietly.
“I know this is going to sound crazy Jensen, but it was that asshole Victor. He cast a spell over the crowd and I think… “ Sam wavered a bit, but after a moment continued. “I think he turned everyone into the costumes they were wearing.”
Dean stared blankly up at Sam. Wait, what?
The throbbing headache and confusion that was swirling around in his head made Dean shout angrily at the other man.
“What the hell are you talking about Sam?! Who the fuck is Victor? What studio? Where in God’s name are we and why do you keep calling me fucking Jensen!” He finished hotly.
Sam’s eyes went comically wide for a long beat, mouth dropping open. “Sam? What are you- wait, are you-?” His mouth fell open wider. “Fuck, are you Dean?”
Finally catching up with the rest of the class and realizing that the man sitting flabbergasted in front of him wasn’t his brother, Dean sat up quickly.
He ignored the sharp pain that shot through his head and scooted back, reaching down to his waist band and whipping out his gun.
“Damn straight I am. Now what the hell are you and where’s my brother?” Dean snarled, aiming directly at not-Sam’s heart.
Not-Sam’s eyes somehow managed to grow wider in size, disbelief and fear crossing his face.
“Shit dude, just put the gun down and I’ll explain.” Sam said shakily
Dean stared coldly at the thing imitating his little brother and made a show of slowly clicking the safety off.
“How about I keep my gun right where it is and you start talking before I decide to put a bullet through your damn heart? Sound like a plan?”
Not-Sam gulped audibly and nodded. “Well I’m human for starters, so feel free to not bust a cap in my ass.” Dean snorted at that but didn’t interrupt him.
“ M-My name is Jared. Jared Padalecki and I’m an actor. My co-workers name is Jensen Ackles and we, uh, we basically play you guys on TV show called Supernatural.” He finished awkwardly, tense eyes never leaving the gun.
Dean stared silently at him for a long moment before slowly lowering the gun barrel from its original position, but not putting it away.
“Assuming that you’re not full of crap, you mean to tell me that I somehow managed to get sucked into your guys’ shitty world again?”
Jared frowned in offense at his choice of words, but just shook his head. “Well, not technically.
The spell wasn’t meant to do that Jen- uh, Dean. It transforms people, not transports.” Jared said purposely.
“Which means?”
“It means that you’re not actually Dean Winchester. You’re still Jensen deep down, but his spell messed with your mind and is making you think you’re Dean.”
Dean stilled, his gaze now drilling into Jared’s own with a volatile kind of anger that could explode any second..
“I’m not some sort of fucking multiple personality you sonofabitch! My life, my family, and my fucking world are all real.” The gun rose back to its original position, and Dean spoke through gritted teeth.
“Now cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really going on here or else I’m going to be really unhappy.” Jared opened his mouth to start desperately pleading his case when Dean cut him off.
“Don’t try to play the whole “I’m an innocent bystander” card again dammit! I heard your little spell when I was out of it.” Jared paled at that, making Dean smirk darkly.
“That’s what I thought. I knew you were some kind of damn witch! For someone so innocent and human you sure know a lot about spells and how they work.” Dean scowled at Jared. “I don’t know how or why, but you mojo’d me and all these other people.” He motioned his gun towards the unconscious masses.
Jared shook his head furiously back in forth. “No, that’s not it dammit! I’m telling you the truth! The only reason I know about magic and have these powers is because I came dressed as a witch!”
Dean’s face remained cold and unconvinced.
“I’m telling you the truth Dean!” He shouted shrilly. “The spell must have gotten cancelled out for me because of my own magic repelling his. It’s virtually impossible to cast a spell on another witch, no matter how strong you are. I don’t even know how to really use them, that spell to heal you just came to me randomly.”
Jared’s trembling voice was hoarse with fear, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Please Dean, you have to believe me. Deep down, you have to know I’d never hurt anyone.”
Dean felt his resolve wavering, the sight of Jared crying and trembling in fear because of him making his gut twist in unpleasant ways.
He didn’t even know the guy, but the truth behind his words slowly started to break through Dean’s hunter instincts.
Dean still attempted to thick rationally, trying to his ground. “You can’t expect me to just-“
“Jensen.” Jared whispered out forcefully, voice cracking on the name.
The sheer amount of emotion in Jared’s voice when he said that name seemed to spark something deep inside of Dean that he hadn’t known was previously there.
Overwhelming feelings of intense protectiveness, love, and anger washed through him. Not anger at Jared, but somehow he was angry at himself for upsetting the other man so badly.
Before Dean knew what he was doing the safety was being clicked off. Eyes never leaving Jared’s he carefully tucked the gun back into his waistband, all the time wondering just what the hell he was doing.
Jared’s shoulders slumped downwards with relief, a huge smile of gratitude crossing his face.
“Thank you.” Jared managed out.
“Shut up witch-boy.” Dean muttered before sighing. “So, what do we do now?”
Before Jared could answer and obnoxiously loud noise of a clock gonging behind them made them freeze.
Jared’s face going pale all over again.
“Fuck! I completely forgot what time it was!” He moaned.
“Why does it matter what time it is? What the hell is happening dammit?” Dean demanded, twisting around to look at the gonging’s source.
A large grandfather clock sat alone in the center of the stage, every gong seeming to increase in power and volume for five more gong’s before finally going dead silent.
“It’s three o’clock Dean; the witching hour.” Jared said quietly, slowly rising to his feet with an expression that clearly screamed ‘abort now!’.
“So what does that mean?” Dean asked, uncertainty growing as Jared’s expression grew more and more distressed. Following his lead Dean got to his face and looked around.
“It means… now everybody wakes up.” Jared said in a slightly strangled voice.
The sounds of groans and shuffling erupted from all around them, mixed with low growls and snarls.
Dean blinked dumbly at that for a second before responding accordingly.
“Shit.”
TBC
A/N: Wow, two weeks on the dot! I got my laptop replaced so I’ll try to be a bit for frequent in the future. Sorry that all the lines were really close together this time instead of slightly separated; it must be a site error or something. Thanks again for reading, and stay tuned for next chapter.