Cadance awoke, staring at the ceiling. “That was strange.”
“Huh?” mumbled Dean Winchester from the other bed.
“Just a weird dream.” Cadance yawned, sitting up and stretching her various limbs. “Come on, we have a lot to do today.”
Dean grumbled, but she was right. They were on the hunt.
He stood up and ran a hand across his face, heading to the bathroom to shave while Cadance made an improvised breakfast. Her horn wasn’t that useful when it came to complex food preparation, only for opening stubborn packaging and applying heat, but when it was Spaghetti-Os that was better than nothing. And honestly, that was better than the questionable motel room merited.
Dean came over, dressed but not yet fully awake. He mumbled thanks as she passed him a can. “Reminds me of when we were kids. I haven’t had Spaghetti-Os in, oh, about a week.”
They both laughed. Cadance replied, “Finding a porn mag you left lying around reminds me of when we were kids.”
“At least I don’t leave feathers in the shower.”
“I don’t want to know what you do in the shower.”
The two of them had their occasional quarrels, but there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other. That’s what siblings were for.
There was no silverware, so they drank the Spaghetti-Os. Cadance wiped her muzzle with a napkin from some long-forgotten diner and turned to her computer. “I’ve been pulling data for the last few months. There’s definitely something going on here in San Diego. I’m thinking it’s a trickster.”
“A real one?” Dean asked.
“It would be nice for a change,” Cadance agreed. “I’ve come up with some of the details. A lot of people have turned up dead or maimed in pretty notable ways.”
Dean took a look at one of the files and snorted. “A Star Trek nerd gets a bridge dropped on him? I guess that’s what he gets for cosplaying.”
Cadance looked at him. “I’d be surprised that you know what cosplay is, but then I remember what you do on the internet.”
Dean shrugged, unabashed.
Cadance frowned and had another look at the documents. “Actually, now that you mention it, a lot of these have had something to do with different types of fans. Star Trek, Star Wars, comic books… You know, Comic Con is here in San Diego and it’s coming up.”
“If it’s got cosplayers, I’m in,” said Dean. “Now, who are we going as?”
Cadance gave him a look. “Costumes?”
“Huh?” Dean shook his head. “No, I mean FBI, Homeland Security, whoever we’re going to pretend to be to get information.”
“That’s the problem. Everybody is going to be in costume. Nobody is going to believe we’re real law enforcement.”
“So can we just buy tickets?” Dean suggested.
“It doesn’t look like it,” Cadance said, checking a website. “Convention badges have been sold out for months.”
“Well, who do we know nerdy enough to know about Comic Con and with enough connections to get tickets?”
“Charlie,” Cadance suggested.
Dean frowned. “No, absolutely not!”
A few days later, Charlie met them in a parking garage in San Diego. Her red hair was easy to spot among crowds of nerds, but her crimson and white corseted costume and crystal ball staff was even more distinctive. “Hey guys!” she called. Dean scowled but Cadance returned Charlie’s smile.
Dean and Cadance had parked in a garage as close to the convention center as they could get. Being so many people had showed up, that wasn’t very close at all.
Dean looked suspiciously at a few people hanging around. He was very protective of his black Impala.
“I’m sure Baby will be fine,” Cadance said, rolling her eyes. “We aren’t even the most interesting people here. There are lots of people with license plates from further away than Kansas.”
“I just wish we didn’t have to walk so far to the convention center.” Dean grumbled. “Do you know the kind of people that live in cities?”
Charlie saw him staring at her costume. “You don’t have to look at me with that tone of voice.”
“Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”
“A character called Codex from a show called The Guild. I wouldn’t expect you to know it.”
Dean shook his head. Unperturbed, Charlie went on. “I have to say, I was really surprised to find out you wanted to go to Comic Con.” She pulled a pair of badges out of her bag.
“I heard they were all sold out,” said Cadance. “How did you get your hands on these?”
“Oh, you know, a few shady connections and some forgery. The usual.” Charlie shrugged. “Sorry, you don’t get to pick the names, though.”
She handed them over. Cadance’s badge carried the name Green Meanie and Dean’s said Lady Sexy McTightpants.
“Reeeally?” Cadance said with raised brows. “Green?”
“With all the earth-toned Carharts you two wear, I thought it might work.” Charlie shrugged.
“Lady Sexy McTightpants?!” Dean nearly shouted, strangling his cry of outrage as various costumed people glanced over at the noise.
“Okay, I’ll admit that I did that one on purpose.” Charlie grinned and punched Dean lightly in the shoulder. “Anyway, it’s not like anyone actually reads these things. Come on.”
The three of them walked the couple of blocks to the convention center, marvelling at the crowds and variety of costumes. Thankfully they were only stopped a couple times by people asking Charlie for pictures.
They pushed their way through the front door into a throng of more than one hundred thousand people.
“And I thought it was busy outside,” murmured Cadance, her words lost in the crowd.
“Are you sure this is a good place to try and find a trickster who’s after geeks?” shouted Charlie over the noise.
“No!” replied Dean. “And say it a little louder, why don’t you?”
“Honestly, this is probably one of the least suspicious conversations happening here right now,” Charlie replied.
“You have no idea,” contributed a black-suited British man who had appeared from nowhere. The palpable aura of evil coming off him would normally result in people giving him a wide berth, but there was no room in the crowded convention.
“Crowley,” Cadance said curtly.
“Moose,” he replied. “Squirrel,” he said to Dean. Turning to Charlie, he said, “And you must be Ms. Bradbury.”
“Moose?” said Charlie. “Cadance doesn’t even have cloven hooves.”
Crowley frowned briefly and then changed the subject. “I came to offer you a deal.”
Dean shook his head and leaned in close to Crowley, baring his teeth. “How many times do we have to tell you, you son of a bitch, we’re done making deals with demons!”
“We have a common interest here,” Crowley said delicately. “You want to protect people in costumes and so do I. When the little wanna-be witches do their rituals with the pentagrams and candles, even if they aren’t quite on my frequency, I can hear them. So when someone thinks it will be funny to scare them with a meat shower, I get very tired of the screaming.”
“A demon who doesn’t like screaming?” asked Charlie.
“While torture pleases me, it is so very inefficient at killing people,” said Crowley replied matter of factly.
“Meat shower?” asked Cadance with raised eyebrows.
“What it sounds like,” Crowley confirmed. “There’s someone playing tricks here and I want you to take care of it.”
“Why should we?” said Dean. “Work for you?”
“This time? Because you’d do it even if I wasn’t here. Also, I have plans for you and it would just ruin my day if you were to be killed just now. So, I came to warn you that this is a very crafty bastard. This morning, I found a ‘kick me’ sign on my back.”
Dean cracked up. “Thanks, Crowley, I needed a laugh today. Maybe we shouldn’t go after this guy after all.”
Crowley gave them a dark look. When Dean finally got control of his laughter, the demon was gone.
“I wonder how he does that,” Dean muttered.
“Does what?” Cadance asked, appearing with a flash. Three drinks hovered beside her.
“Probably some kind of magic,” Dean decided.
Cadance shrugged. “Demons. Here, I got the two of you something. The line was really backed up.”
Charlie and Dean accepted the drinks without question.
“Magic is freaky,” said Charlie. “Like, I think I know a little about how it works with all the fantasy games I play, but to be able to use it would be a whole ‘nother thing.”
“It would be weird,” Cadance agreed, her horn glowing as she sipped her drink.
The three of them pushed into the main convention hall. There were cosplayers everywhere.
“Do you remember that one time there was a Supernatural convention?” said Dean. He shuddered. “So freaky.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” said Cadance.
“Just because all it takes to cosplay you is pink and fuzz.”
“Like you’re really such a complicated personality.”
“Guys,” said Charlie. “Something strange is going on here.”
They followed her gaze. “What?” asked Dean.
“There’s a sign for a Star Trek panel over there, and John de Lancie’s name has ‘canceled’ written over it.”
“So what? I’m sure celebrities cancel appearances all the time,” said Dean.
“That handwriting is Q’s, from Star Trek,” said Charlie.
Cadance and Dean stared at her.
She elaborated, “Q is the character John de Lancie played. His handwriting was seen briefly in a deleted scene from the show.”
“And you remember what someone’s handwriting looked like from one episode from one TV show,” said Dean.
“Not just someone’s, Q’s,” Charlie insisted. “Which I find really weird. If they used de Lancie’s actual handwriting for Q’s in the show, then why would he write that he wasn’t coming to the event if he was already here and able to write it?”
“Well, if you remembered what it looked like, could someone else?” Cadance asked.
Charlie shook her head. “The only footage of Q’s handwriting is on a vintage reel of film from that deleted scene I mentioned. And I own it.”
“You don’t seriously think that some trickster is sending a message to you personally in the most obscure way possible?” said Dean.
“Stranger things have happened,” Cadance pointed out.
Dean frowned. “Fine. So what do we do?”
A few minutes later, Charlie pushed through the doors of the VIP prep area, leading the group. She called ahead, “We’ve got Jensen Ackles from Days of our Lives here. Who has his badge?”
Dean, wearing sunglasses, did his best with his limited repertoire to look like a soap opera star. Cadance followed behind, planning to say, “I’m with him,” if anyone asked.
Fortunately, most of the talent were not nerds like most of their fans, and the VIP area was almost empty, save for a blonde man chilling with the VIP snacks.
Charlie let out a muffled squeal.
“What?” asked Dean.
“You don’t recognize voice actor Andrew Francis? I can think of so many shows he’s done. It’s so amazing to see one of my heroes!”
“Don’t forget, we’re here on a mission,” said Cadance. “Now, how do we find a trickster who’s been killing nerds?”
“Killing nerds?” called Andrew Francis from the other side of the room.
“We’re talking about Star Wars,” Charlie quickly replied. “It’ll kill nerds to chose between that and Christmas this year.”
“Isn’t that what Jews are for?” Dean asked.
“Not helping my story,” Charlie said out of the corner of her mouth. They managed to disengage and find a quiet corner.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Charlie going on with a lowered voice, “how do we kill a trickster once we’ve found one?”
“You have to stick it with a stake dipped in one of its victim’s blood,” Cadance explained. “So far, we haven’t managed to get that. We’ll have to talk our way into a morgue at some point.”
A VIP room attendant came over with a tray of bagels and the three of them put their conversation on hold. Cadance lifted a bagel and bit into it. “Huh? This is sweet. Wait, it’s a donut!”
“A donut that looks like a bagel?” said Dean, looking over it critically. “I can see having a bagel that looks like a donut to play a joke on someone, but why would anyone have a donut that looks like a bagel? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Make sense? Oh, what fun is there in making sense?” The man holding the tray of pastries smiled, all crooked teeth and yellow eyes.
“Found him,” said Charlie.
Dean upset the table and the three of them jumped back. Their opponent cast the tray aside, leaving it to float away on a gentle summer breeze. He spread his hands. “Not what you expected?”
“You’re going down,” said Dean, stake already out.
“I’m afraid first you’ll have to get through my bodyguard. Now who was it again? Oh yes.” He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.
“Well that was-” Cadance started to say, but was interrupted by the impact of someone falling on her back. It was Andrew Francis. His eyes were glazed and he held a plastic butter knife.
She bucked him off and he went flying across the room, landing badly in a pile of tables and chairs.
The trickster facepalmed. “Seriously? With all this nerd merchandise around you grab the bagel knife?”
Dean, however, didn’t hesitate to dip the stake in Andrew Francis’ blood and stab the trickster with it.
“Oh no, I am slain! Aaaaargh!” He vanished in a puff of confetti.
Dean, Cadance, and Charlie stood staring at what was left. Cadance broke the silence. “Well, that was weird. Are we sure he’s dead?”
Dean shrugged. “If he isn’t, we’ll gank him again later.”
“Come on,” said Charlie. “Let’s get out of here before anyone notices. Since we’re here, I’ve got to show you the rest of the convention.”
“And the cosplayers?” said Dean hopefully. The three of them left the room.
Sam Winchester awoke, staring at the ceiling. “That was strange.”
“Huh?” mumbled Shining Armor from the other side of the bed.
“Just a weird dream.” Sam yawned, sitting up and stretching his arms and legs. “Come on, we have a lot to do today.”
