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chaletianTitle: A Haunting on Pennsylvania Avenue, 5/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: Dean and Sam visit the West Wing.
“Donna, I’m not going to talk to you about the ghost.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“This isn’t about the ghost?”
“It’s not about the ghost.”
“Because Leo was pretty firm on that point. No more talking about the ghost, or hauntings or, y’know, any of that stuff.”
“It’s not about the ghost.”
“OK. What is it?”
“Why is the entire senior staff refusing to accept that the White House is haunted?”
“Donna!”
“What?”
“The White House is NOT HAUNTED!”
“Well, so you say.”
“Yes. I do. And you know why I say that?”
“Because you’re an idiot?”
“Because I’m right! Jeez, Donna, you can’t take this ghost idea seriously!”
“Yes I can, Josh! Because there’s some really weird stuff going on, and I think that a ghost is the best explanation.”
Josh groaned, exasperated, and scrubbed both hands through his hair. “Donna!”
“What?”
“I…” He looked down at her stubborn face, and grinned. “Never mind. What have you got for me?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, and then slapped a post-it note on his chest.
“Exterminators in the Mural Room.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.
“Exterminators?” he yelled after her.
“The Mural Room, Josh,” she yelled back, without missing a step. He sighed, retrieved the post-it note from his lapel, and headed for the Mural Room. Never let it be said that he didn’t obey Donnatella Moss in all things.
. . .
“You know there’s a very good chance of our getting committed, right?” Sam fidgeted nervously with his cuffs. Dean shrugged.
“What’s the worst that can happen – they kick us out?”
“Well, I think I already mentioned a worse option. And there’s always the part where they can just arrest us.”
“Dude, will you chill out before you have a coronary? Look, you talked to your guy, right? And he knew who to talk to?”
Sam nodded, slightly reassured. “Yeah. That is, I said that all these haunting rumours were weird, and he said that the person to talk to was the Deputy Chief of Staff’s assistant, and I talked to her and she said we should come in. Although, that may have been a ploy.”
“A ploy? What the fuck?”
Sam started pacing anxiously again. “You know, a ploy. A ruse. To capture us.”
Dean looked across at his brother, and sighed. “Sam, you clearly had one very disturbed childhood.”
Sam stopped dead, his face a picture of disbelief. “Well, yeah!”
Before Dean could reply, the door to the room swung open, and a man entered, intently reading a post-it note in his hand.
“Hi,” said Dean, standing a little taller in his FBI/US Marshalls/Homeland Security/insurance adjustors suit.
“Uh, hi,” said the man, consulting his post-it note again. “You’re the Winchesters?”
“I’m Dean. This is my brother, Sam.” Dean held out his hand.
“Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff. My assistant said we had a meeting?” He shook both their hands, and gestured for them to sit down. Dean and Sam perched on the end of the ornate sofas as Josh Lyman looked expectantly at them.
“A friend of mine is an intern with Congressman Hammond,” explained Sam. “He suggested that you were the people to talk to.”
“Talk to us about what?”
“Uh,” Sam looked desperately at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes.
“It’s about your ghost.”
“Our… did Donna put you up to this?”
“Mr Lyman…”
“I swear, she doesn’t know when to LET. IT. GO!” This last was shouted out of the doorway. “Are you going to tell me that I need to scatter the place with salt and sing Hail Marys?” Dean and Sam exchanged glances.
“Well, the salt might not be such a bad idea,” said Dean, shrugging.
“Dean, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but what is wrong with you people? The White House is not haunted! We do not have a ghost! What we have is people being hurt and people being killed! And anyone trying to take advantage of that is…”
“Mr Lyman,” interrupted Dean, standing up. “I’m completely serious. And I know how this sounds, but you have to listen to us, because we know what we’re talking about.”
“We don’t have a ghost.”
“Absolutely. I hear you.”
“We do not have a ghost.”
“And that’s all true, apart from the part where you have a ghost.”
Josh Lyman sat down suddenly on the opposite sofa, as if his strings had been cut. “Aw, hell.”
“Yeah,” said Sam feelingly.
“How do we spin this?”
Author:
chaletianFandom: Supernatural/The West Wing
Rating: PG
Characters: Ensemble
Spoilers: None so far
Summary: Dean and Sam visit the West Wing.
“Donna, I’m not going to talk to you about the ghost.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“This isn’t about the ghost?”
“It’s not about the ghost.”
“Because Leo was pretty firm on that point. No more talking about the ghost, or hauntings or, y’know, any of that stuff.”
“It’s not about the ghost.”
“OK. What is it?”
“Why is the entire senior staff refusing to accept that the White House is haunted?”
“Donna!”
“What?”
“The White House is NOT HAUNTED!”
“Well, so you say.”
“Yes. I do. And you know why I say that?”
“Because you’re an idiot?”
“Because I’m right! Jeez, Donna, you can’t take this ghost idea seriously!”
“Yes I can, Josh! Because there’s some really weird stuff going on, and I think that a ghost is the best explanation.”
Josh groaned, exasperated, and scrubbed both hands through his hair. “Donna!”
“What?”
“I…” He looked down at her stubborn face, and grinned. “Never mind. What have you got for me?” She glared at him through narrowed eyes, and then slapped a post-it note on his chest.
“Exterminators in the Mural Room.” With that, she turned on her heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.
“Exterminators?” he yelled after her.
“The Mural Room, Josh,” she yelled back, without missing a step. He sighed, retrieved the post-it note from his lapel, and headed for the Mural Room. Never let it be said that he didn’t obey Donnatella Moss in all things.
. . .
“You know there’s a very good chance of our getting committed, right?” Sam fidgeted nervously with his cuffs. Dean shrugged.
“What’s the worst that can happen – they kick us out?”
“Well, I think I already mentioned a worse option. And there’s always the part where they can just arrest us.”
“Dude, will you chill out before you have a coronary? Look, you talked to your guy, right? And he knew who to talk to?”
Sam nodded, slightly reassured. “Yeah. That is, I said that all these haunting rumours were weird, and he said that the person to talk to was the Deputy Chief of Staff’s assistant, and I talked to her and she said we should come in. Although, that may have been a ploy.”
“A ploy? What the fuck?”
Sam started pacing anxiously again. “You know, a ploy. A ruse. To capture us.”
Dean looked across at his brother, and sighed. “Sam, you clearly had one very disturbed childhood.”
Sam stopped dead, his face a picture of disbelief. “Well, yeah!”
Before Dean could reply, the door to the room swung open, and a man entered, intently reading a post-it note in his hand.
“Hi,” said Dean, standing a little taller in his FBI/US Marshalls/Homeland Security/insurance adjustors suit.
“Uh, hi,” said the man, consulting his post-it note again. “You’re the Winchesters?”
“I’m Dean. This is my brother, Sam.” Dean held out his hand.
“Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff. My assistant said we had a meeting?” He shook both their hands, and gestured for them to sit down. Dean and Sam perched on the end of the ornate sofas as Josh Lyman looked expectantly at them.
“A friend of mine is an intern with Congressman Hammond,” explained Sam. “He suggested that you were the people to talk to.”
“Talk to us about what?”
“Uh,” Sam looked desperately at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes.
“It’s about your ghost.”
“Our… did Donna put you up to this?”
“Mr Lyman…”
“I swear, she doesn’t know when to LET. IT. GO!” This last was shouted out of the doorway. “Are you going to tell me that I need to scatter the place with salt and sing Hail Marys?” Dean and Sam exchanged glances.
“Well, the salt might not be such a bad idea,” said Dean, shrugging.
“Dean, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but what is wrong with you people? The White House is not haunted! We do not have a ghost! What we have is people being hurt and people being killed! And anyone trying to take advantage of that is…”
“Mr Lyman,” interrupted Dean, standing up. “I’m completely serious. And I know how this sounds, but you have to listen to us, because we know what we’re talking about.”
“We don’t have a ghost.”
“Absolutely. I hear you.”
“We do not have a ghost.”
“And that’s all true, apart from the part where you have a ghost.”
Josh Lyman sat down suddenly on the opposite sofa, as if his strings had been cut. “Aw, hell.”
“Yeah,” said Sam feelingly.
“How do we spin this?”
