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[IC]Dean and Cas tell each other ghost stories.
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[IC]Written by: CasDean?
[IC]Characters: [Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak]
[IC]Pairing: Destiel (obviously)
[IC]Rating: T+ (minor bad word)
[IC]Triggers: unexplained deaths out at sea
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[IMG=QKR]
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Underneath the vaulted, glittering starlight lay two slumped bodies. One tan trenchcoat pressed against a campfire log, the other with dirty blond hair resting comfortably askew on the dress pants of the former. Two sets of fingers intertwined with the crackling of a fire, and the crickets to interrupt the peacefulness of the otherwise quiet evening. Despite the cool autumn air--mid-sixties or so, neither of
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"Well once Stingy Jack died, the devil kept his promise to not take his soul into hell, but God wouldn't let Jack's soul into heaven. Because of this, the devil sent Jack's soul into the dark night with only a burnt coal to light the way. Well, Jack put the coal in a carved out turnip and is said to be still roaming the earth. The Irish refer to this as ‘Jack of the Lantern, or Jack O'Lantern.' In Scotland and Ireland, people carved ghoulish faces into turnips or potatoes and put them in windows or near doors to frighten away Stingy Jack or other evil wandering spirits."
"So no pumpkins?" Dean asked in his usual, questioning tone.
Castiel shook his head. "Immigrants brought the tradition over to the United States. They found out that the pumpkins, which are native to here made great Jack O'Lanterns."
Dean sent Castiel a confused look. Was that it? It wasn't a scary ghost story at all! Though, he did tend to forget that Cas seemed to have no concept of this sort of thing. He sat up, scooting to sit on Castiel's lap, chests pressed against each other. "That wasn't scary." he chuckled, pressing his forehead against Cas' own.
"Yes, it is." Castiel defended, eyebrows furrowing.
"What makes it scary?" Dean asked with a
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His pupils were ferociously dilated; his nails carving crescent moons into Dean's hands.
"The distress signals were followed by unintelligible Morse code, and finished with dead silence." Dean continued. "They were picked up by two American ships, as well as a Dutch and British listening post. They tracked the calls and traced it to a Dutch freighter, the SS Ourang Medan."
Castiel listened intently.
"The closest ship to the Medan was the Silver Star, and she responded to the emergency SOS. Within hours, the Silver Star had reached the SS Ourang Medan--only to find no source of life." he hissed.
"The Captain and crew climbed out of their vessel when no contact was made and boarded the Medan. That was when they'd walk into a nightmare they could never even imagine."
"As soon as they boarded the Ourang Medan, the men realized that the distress calls weren't an exaggeration. The decks of the vessel were littered with corpses of the crew; their eyes wide, arms grasping at unseen assailants, faces twisted into revolting visages of agony and horror. Even the ship's dog was dead; it's once intimidating snarl frozen into a ghastly grimace." Dean