Chapter Text
Dead wasn't joking about the number of SpookyLights Frank ordered.
"What the fuck? Who could possibly need this many SpookyLights?" Will asks, aghast.
Dean shrugs, jumping a little at the last moment as the sound of a wire spool hitting another wire spool echoes through the building. "I'll have you know that our customers have excellent taste in Halloween decorations. Sometimes it's alright to have a little whimsy in your life, you know." He scrunches his face at Will in an expression of over-exaggerated judgement, and Will finds him to look ridiculous. It really highlights the wrinkles in his stupidly freckled nose.
"Maybe for you," Will says, making a face back. A much more dignified, reserved face. "Electrical lights attract.. well, now's not really the time. I just don't like them."
"Well, what do you like?"
"Octopi."
Dean's response is lost in the cacophonous wail of what can only be described as the sound of a wire spool being bashed on two other wire spools. He attempts to mouth something to Will, but his meaning is lost in translation. Perhaps Will should've learned to read lips instead of spending all day chasing sentient slime molds around farmhouses. The noise persists for several minutes, leaving an unpleasant ringing in Will's ears when it finished. Finally, though, he could hear what Dean was trying to ask him.
"--at's the plan again?"
Luckily, in Will's mind, that was an easy question.
"We go out. We fuck shit up. I go home and rest."
"That's not a very good plan, Will!"
"One of us is a manager at a Home Depot, and one of us kills ghosts! You'll be fine."
That response does make Dean pipe down, though he looks quite frustrated (and perhaps a little hurt). Will pays it a little mind, but not enough to be concerned. After all, it is true.
"Now, when you head out there, I think it might be in your best interest to get something very heavy in case that thing takes an interest in you. I'm gonna go grab some cinder blocks and see if I can't put a dent in one of t--"
An interruption, again. This time, though, the sound of wire is absent. What is present, however, is the unnecessarily large foot of a plastic skeleton that has kicked through the break room door. The remains of Frank flop and fold like a poorly made puppet, with the occasional rag of meat and rope of tendon getting tangled in the skeletal toes. Dried blood flakes and falls, much like Will's hopes. The nail gun, helpless, is knocked from the table from the force of the break-in.
Dean stands silent for a moment, his face turning from pale to green. For a moment, Will almost thinks he's about to faint. As he moves to prepare to catch the manager, though, Dean straightens his shoulders, swallows back his fear (and a significant amount of stomach acid), and twists around the leg of the skeleton so he can bolt out of the break room, leaving Will with little more than a half baked plan, a broken nail gun, and a sudden, twisting knot in his guts. Through the wail of the skeleton as Dean shoots past and the thrum of his heartbeat echoing in his ears, Will hears a screamed challenge from his would-be skeleton killing partner:
"I'll show you a Home Depot manager!"
The yell reverberates and joins the sound of the skeleton's howls. Will sighs. "...Well, fuck."