HOME | DD

Description
That Which Lies Hidden, chapter 19
A Ghost Adventures fic

Thanks to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx, whose work inspired me.

19 A couple of hours later, I sat on the back bumper of Zak's Jeep nervously playing with my bracelet. Zak paced in the parking lot. Nick had pulled some folding chairs out of his storage unit, but he was the only one using them. "For cryin' out loud, Zak, sit down. What's your problem?"

Zak flung himself down in one chair with an alarming squeak of metal. "How long did Aaron say he'd be?" he asked, twisting the rings on his fingers. "Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he's not sure I'm okay after all."

Nick rolled his eyes. As he started to explain yet again that Aaron had called from somewhere around the Utah state line and so would be a while getting here, a red SUV pulled into the lot. A tall man got out from behind the wheel, his shaven head slightly sweaty in the afternoon heat. The mouth above his goatee split into a grin when he looked our way. "Hey, fellas!" he called. Nick rushed over and gave him a big back-slapping hug. Zak moved more cautiously, hand outstretched, till Aaron clasped it with a hearty "Good to see ya". Then his eyes moved toward me. "Well, hel-LO there," he said brightly as the three men approached me. "What, you guys already replaced me with a prettier model?"

"No, no," I laughed. "I'm just the temp."

Zak slipped his arm around my waist. "This is Claire," he said simply. "She saved me."

Aaron eyed me appreciatively. "I bet she did. You know I'm gonna have to hear all about this."

"And we're gonna hear all about you!" Nick burst out. "Where the fuck have you been, dude? All you said was 'here and there'. What kind of fuckin' answer is that? I've been trying to reach you for three weeks or more."

"Sorry, man," Aaron shrugged. "Shit happens, you know? I didn't have any idea Zak was demon-free till you told me a little while ago."

"You've been looking for a way to free me," Zak said, his voice thick with emotion. "We figured that much out…you don't know how much that means to me, bro, even though it wasn't necessary."

This time Aaron's shrug was almost embarrassed. "Did what I thought had to be done. I learned a lot along the way, too. And ran into more con artists and scams than there are light bulbs on the Strip." With a pointed wiggle of his eyebrows at me, he turned back toward his vehicle. "Gotta show you guys some of the junk I gathered along the way. This stuff was passed off as demon killers, demon repellents, you name it."

A large cardboard box he produced from the back of the SUV contained the wildest assortment of junk I'd seen outside of my uncle's basement. Bags of herbs decorated with mystic symbols shared space with knives, carved sticks, bottles of Four Thieves Vinegar, and most notably, a gorgeous old revolver. Zak picked it up carefully to admire its white handle and intricate engravings. "This might not kill a demon, but it's probably worth a pretty penny anyhow. This looks like a real antique."

"Found it under the floorboards of a ruined old church in Wyoming," Aaron said. "An old guy up that way said it might be an actual vintage Colt, but I think he was bullshitting." I juggled the prettily carved dagger I was weighing in my hand to reach out and take the pistol from Zak. "Watch it, girlie. You wanna get poked with something live, not that piece of metal there."

"Aaron!" Zak sounded torn between laughing and being appalled. "Dude, back off my girl."

"Just keepin' it light," Aaron returned. "Anyway, none of it works, so it's all fit for the junk yard, if you ask me."

"No way!" Nick protested. "If nothing else, it'll make some great b-roll shots for the show."

"Um, sure," Aaron's voice took on a note of uncertainty for the first time. "The show…We need to talk about that, too. Not out here, though."

"Let's go to my place," Zak said. "It's not much, but it's good enough."

"Fine," Aaron agreed. "Then you wanna stow this shit in there, Nick, so I don't have to lug it up three flights of steps?" He gestured toward the storage unit and Nick carried the box into the cool darkness. "Let's go then. I'll follow you, Zak. Then I can follow you," he added to me, "upstairs."

I groaned to myself but kept a smile on my face. So Zak's dear friend was a lech. I could restrain myself from slapping him. Once we were in the Jeep though, I did ask Zak, "Is Aaron always such a flirt?"

"Not really. He just has a weird sense of humor."

"Whatever. Maybe he's just nervous, too."

When we got back to the apartment complex, Aaron declared, "I'm starving! Nick, you remember that Asian place you took us to that time, over by UNLV, the one with the incredible dumplings? I've been craving those damn things for months, and I don't even remember how to get there—it was in some back alley." Nick grinned and nodded.

Aaron started to dig through his luggage in the back of his SUV and gestured Nick over with a jerk of his head. A few moments later, Nick came over to me. "Come with me to get the food," he said quietly. "Aaron wants to talk to Zak alone; he got how tense Zak was, and I guess he wants to make sure he knows everything's good between them." I agreed; it made sense, and after all, I'd made a point of doing the same thing several times, making sure Zak and Nick had time alone.

So why did I feel so strange this time, leaving the two in the parking lot? Maybe just because Aaron was such a blatant womanizer, and not at all what I had expected. I told myself, as I rode with Nick to pick up dinner, that I couldn't expect to love everybody Zak did. He'd had a terrible first meeting with Sam and Dean, after all, as close as they were to my heart.

Zak certainly didn't seem tense when we got back; on the contrary, his eyes were glittering and he was almost bouncing with relieved excitement. He was a little vague about what he and Aaron had talked about, but I didn't pry. "Okay," Aaron said after the food was spread out, "I wanted to wait till all three of us were here before I said this, but—I don't know about continuing the show. I mean, hunting for ghosts, I guess that might be okay, but this demon thing, look what it's done to us. From what I've seen, if we'd leave them alone, they'd leave us alone. Nick, you want your family safe. Zak, you nearly lost it all. And me, well, we won't even go into that."

Zak turned red and stared at his feet. "Aaron, I explained this to Nick, and I'll try to explain it to you. Part of the reason the demon that attacked me stayed was that it found out what we did. It saw we were a threat to its kind, and it wanted our team neutralized. If I stop, it wins, and I won't let that happen. You don't have to work with us—hell, Nick doesn't have to work with me—I'll do it myself if I have to, but I don't want to. You know how well we worked together…" His voice, at first resolute, trailed off as Aaron continued to look steadily at him. "Can't we work this out later?" he finally said plaintively. "Dudes, I just—I just want to be happy with you, both of you, for a while, is that too much to ask?"

Nick immediately put a hand on his shoulder. "It's cool, Zak, we'll deal later. You're right; let's not make any big-ass decisions tonight. Eat up, you clowns, Claire and I didn't drive across town for you to stare at the damn food."

Things eased after that, but I had to admit I breathed a sigh of relief when Aaron and Nick left for the night. As I closed the door behind them, I noticed a crumpled piece of plastic lying in a corner and picked it up. "Zak!" I yelled. "What is this doing here?" It was the devil's trap I'd placed under the door mat, sketched out on a sheet of clear transparency, an idea Zak had had after we'd spent half an afternoon scrubbing off the one I'd painted on my apartment floor.

He came in from the bathroom, looking tired. "Oh…Aaron thought those might not be a good idea. He thought if we put that shit up, it was like telling demons where to find us and that we were afraid of them. ignoring them's the best way to be left alone."

"And who told him that lie?" I demanded and replaced it. "That's as dumb as saying locking your doors invites thieves in."

"So now you're saying my friends are stupid?"

"No, I said whoever told him that was stupid. He wouldn't know any better; he's not a hunter."

"Neither are you," he snapped and turned back toward the bedroom.

I gaped. "I was good enough to 'grab your ass and pull you out of hell', I think you said."

Zak stopped and shook his head, as though dazed. "What…yeah, yeah. That shit wasn't called for. Why did I say that? I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay. It's been a long day and we're both tired. Let's get some sleep and things will look up."

+++

Things really didn't, though. Over the next week, I barely saw Zak; he was off with Nick and Aaron most of the days and half the nights. I tried not to resent it. I tried to be happy that he had finally gotten back to doing what he loved. The problem was, he really hadn't. Much of their time together was spent arguing over the future direction of the Ghost Adventures Crew. I couldn't help, either, because every time I was around Aaron was making crude comments, till I snapped at last and told him off. Thankfully Zak wasn't around at the time. I figured Aaron would get mad and tell him, but he only smirked and went on his way.

Another problem caused by their collective preoccupation was that the deadline of my lease was coming due in a week, and half of my furniture still hadn't been moved. I co-opted Ross and Tristan one evening to help me out, but we couldn't get it all. I sighed and decided to do the best I could. Screw them all. I was accustomed to taking care of myself. I took off early another afternoon, and got most of what was left into a rental truck, except my bed. By the time I wrestled it all into my storage unit I was a sweaty hot mess. Then I remembered the key on my chain, to the GAC unit next door, blissfully air conditioned to keep their equipment operational. I opened the door and a puff of cool air greeted me. With a groan of gratitude I sat down and looked around me, my gaze falling on Aaron's box. I folded the flaps open and poked through the assortment of goodies, noting again the stiletto I'd coveted earlier. I wonder if he'd mind if I borrowed it. Not that I'd be any better with a knife than a gun, I guess. That reminded me of the old pistol. I found it and lifted it out gingerly, wondering if it might be a real Colt original. Uncle Bobby knew a bit about guns…but i quailed at the thought of calling him, especially right now. I could just see me saying 'oh, the guy I exorcised? Yeah, we're on the outs right now'. On the other hand, there were other hunters who wouldn't ask such questions. I dialed Dean's number. "Yo!" he answered.

"Dean! Claire. I have a question about a gun." I described the revolver and Aaron's account of its finding. Dean put his phone on speaker and hollered for Sam to join the conversation, then delighted in telling me how he had interrupted Sam's fixing his hair. I dragged the bickering brothers back on topic and repeated myself, even snapping a picture with my phone and sending it to them.

"What the fuck?" Dean said. "The Colt's gone, Sammy, so what the fuck is this?"

"Colt made more than one demon-killing weapon, Dean. He made Ruby's knife, after all."

"He what? You never told me that!"

"I did so! You just—"

"Ahem!" I cut them both off. "Wanna translate, please?"

After a suitably chastened moment of silence, Sam began, "Okay. To make a long story short, well, shortish, Samuel Colt made a pistol for killing demons. It was also the key to a giant devil's trap he built in Wyoming, to close off a gate to Hell there. That pistol was lost; but we, um, we found out he'd made other weapons for use against supernatural enemies. Knives and such."

"But not another gun," Dean put in. "Not that we know of anyway. I can't read the inscription in this shitty little photo; what's it say?"

"It's Latin," I replied. "It says 'vos vadum non timeo'. Means 'thou shalt not be afraid', right?"

"Right," Sam said. "And that would make sense; the Colt we had was inscribed with 'non timebo mala', or 'I will fear no evil'. So there's a pattern there."

"The trap in Wyoming is inactive now," Dean added. "It was pentagram shaped, with a church built at each of its points, but one was destroyed and broke its power. Your friend said he found this one in a ruined church in Wyoming? Well, the best place to hide a spare key is under the doormat. Could be Colt made this one and stashed it there as a backup."

"So, then, this gun might actually kill demons?" I asked, my mouth agape.

"Could be," Dean said. "Unfortunately, it has to be a kill shot, so you end up killing the possessed person too. But, if there's no other way to dislodge the demon, it's a mercy."

I thanked them and hung up, seriously shaken. Aaron had claimed the gun was no more than an antique, if that. Had he known it might be far more? And if he had, was that why he had lied?

Had he been ready to kill Zak, if he couldn't free him?

Description
That Which Lies Hidden, chapter 19
A Ghost Adventures fic

Thanks to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx, whose work inspired me.

19 A couple of hours later, I sat on the back bumper of Zak's Jeep nervously playing with my bracelet. Zak paced in the parking lot. Nick had pulled some folding chairs out of his storage unit, but he was the only one using them. "For cryin' out loud, Zak, sit down. What's your problem?"

Zak flung himself down in one chair with an alarming squeak of metal. "How long did Aaron say he'd be?" he asked, twisting the rings on his fingers. "Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he's not sure I'm okay after all."

Nick rolled his eyes. As he started to explain yet again that Aaron had called from somewhere around the Utah state line and so would be a while getting here, a red SUV pulled into the lot. A tall man got out from behind the wheel, his shaven head slightly sweaty in the afternoon heat. The mouth above his goatee split into a grin when he looked our way. "Hey, fellas!" he called. Nick rushed over and gave him a big back-slapping hug. Zak moved more cautiously, hand outstretched, till Aaron clasped it with a hearty "Good to see ya". Then his eyes moved toward me. "Well, hel-LO there," he said brightly as the three men approached me. "What, you guys already replaced me with a prettier model?"

"No, no," I laughed. "I'm just the temp."

Zak slipped his arm around my waist. "This is Claire," he said simply. "She saved me."

Aaron eyed me appreciatively. "I bet she did. You know I'm gonna have to hear all about this."

"And we're gonna hear all about you!" Nick burst out. "Where the fuck have you been, dude? All you said was 'here and there'. What kind of fuckin' answer is that? I've been trying to reach you for three weeks or more."

"Sorry, man," Aaron shrugged. "Shit happens, you know? I didn't have any idea Zak was demon-free till you told me a little while ago."

"You've been looking for a way to free me," Zak said, his voice thick with emotion. "We figured that much out…you don't know how much that means to me, bro, even though it wasn't necessary."

This time Aaron's shrug was almost embarrassed. "Did what I thought had to be done. I learned a lot along the way, too. And ran into more con artists and scams than there are light bulbs on the Strip." With a pointed wiggle of his eyebrows at me, he turned back toward his vehicle. "Gotta show you guys some of the junk I gathered along the way. This stuff was passed off as demon killers, demon repellents, you name it."

A large cardboard box he produced from the back of the SUV contained the wildest assortment of junk I'd seen outside of my uncle's basement. Bags of herbs decorated with mystic symbols shared space with knives, carved sticks, bottles of Four Thieves Vinegar, and most notably, a gorgeous old revolver. Zak picked it up carefully to admire its white handle and intricate engravings. "This might not kill a demon, but it's probably worth a pretty penny anyhow. This looks like a real antique."

"Found it under the floorboards of a ruined old church in Wyoming," Aaron said. "An old guy up that way said it might be an actual vintage Colt, but I think he was bullshitting." I juggled the prettily carved dagger I was weighing in my hand to reach out and take the pistol from Zak. "Watch it, girlie. You wanna get poked with something live, not that piece of metal there."

"Aaron!" Zak sounded torn between laughing and being appalled. "Dude, back off my girl."

"Just keepin' it light," Aaron returned. "Anyway, none of it works, so it's all fit for the junk yard, if you ask me."

"No way!" Nick protested. "If nothing else, it'll make some great b-roll shots for the show."

"Um, sure," Aaron's voice took on a note of uncertainty for the first time. "The show…We need to talk about that, too. Not out here, though."

"Let's go to my place," Zak said. "It's not much, but it's good enough."

"Fine," Aaron agreed. "Then you wanna stow this shit in there, Nick, so I don't have to lug it up three flights of steps?" He gestured toward the storage unit and Nick carried the box into the cool darkness. "Let's go then. I'll follow you, Zak. Then I can follow you," he added to me, "upstairs."

I groaned to myself but kept a smile on my face. So Zak's dear friend was a lech. I could restrain myself from slapping him. Once we were in the Jeep though, I did ask Zak, "Is Aaron always such a flirt?"

"Not really. He just has a weird sense of humor."

"Whatever. Maybe he's just nervous, too."

When we got back to the apartment complex, Aaron declared, "I'm starving! Nick, you remember that Asian place you took us to that time, over by UNLV, the one with the incredible dumplings? I've been craving those damn things for months, and I don't even remember how to get there—it was in some back alley." Nick grinned and nodded.

Aaron started to dig through his luggage in the back of his SUV and gestured Nick over with a jerk of his head. A few moments later, Nick came over to me. "Come with me to get the food," he said quietly. "Aaron wants to talk to Zak alone; he got how tense Zak was, and I guess he wants to make sure he knows everything's good between them." I agreed; it made sense, and after all, I'd made a point of doing the same thing several times, making sure Zak and Nick had time alone.

So why did I feel so strange this time, leaving the two in the parking lot? Maybe just because Aaron was such a blatant womanizer, and not at all what I had expected. I told myself, as I rode with Nick to pick up dinner, that I couldn't expect to love everybody Zak did. He'd had a terrible first meeting with Sam and Dean, after all, as close as they were to my heart.

Zak certainly didn't seem tense when we got back; on the contrary, his eyes were glittering and he was almost bouncing with relieved excitement. He was a little vague about what he and Aaron had talked about, but I didn't pry. "Okay," Aaron said after the food was spread out, "I wanted to wait till all three of us were here before I said this, but—I don't know about continuing the show. I mean, hunting for ghosts, I guess that might be okay, but this demon thing, look what it's done to us. From what I've seen, if we'd leave them alone, they'd leave us alone. Nick, you want your family safe. Zak, you nearly lost it all. And me, well, we won't even go into that."

Zak turned red and stared at his feet. "Aaron, I explained this to Nick, and I'll try to explain it to you. Part of the reason the demon that attacked me stayed was that it found out what we did. It saw we were a threat to its kind, and it wanted our team neutralized. If I stop, it wins, and I won't let that happen. You don't have to work with us—hell, Nick doesn't have to work with me—I'll do it myself if I have to, but I don't want to. You know how well we worked together…" His voice, at first resolute, trailed off as Aaron continued to look steadily at him. "Can't we work this out later?" he finally said plaintively. "Dudes, I just—I just want to be happy with you, both of you, for a while, is that too much to ask?"

Nick immediately put a hand on his shoulder. "It's cool, Zak, we'll deal later. You're right; let's not make any big-ass decisions tonight. Eat up, you clowns, Claire and I didn't drive across town for you to stare at the damn food."

Things eased after that, but I had to admit I breathed a sigh of relief when Aaron and Nick left for the night. As I closed the door behind them, I noticed a crumpled piece of plastic lying in a corner and picked it up. "Zak!" I yelled. "What is this doing here?" It was the devil's trap I'd placed under the door mat, sketched out on a sheet of clear transparency, an idea Zak had had after we'd spent half an afternoon scrubbing off the one I'd painted on my apartment floor.

He came in from the bathroom, looking tired. "Oh…Aaron thought those might not be a good idea. He thought if we put that shit up, it was like telling demons where to find us and that we were afraid of them. ignoring them's the best way to be left alone."

"And who told him that lie?" I demanded and replaced it. "That's as dumb as saying locking your doors invites thieves in."

"So now you're saying my friends are stupid?"

"No, I said whoever told him that was stupid. He wouldn't know any better; he's not a hunter."

"Neither are you," he snapped and turned back toward the bedroom.

I gaped. "I was good enough to 'grab your ass and pull you out of hell', I think you said."

Zak stopped and shook his head, as though dazed. "What…yeah, yeah. That shit wasn't called for. Why did I say that? I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay. It's been a long day and we're both tired. Let's get some sleep and things will look up."

+++

Things really didn't, though. Over the next week, I barely saw Zak; he was off with Nick and Aaron most of the days and half the nights. I tried not to resent it. I tried to be happy that he had finally gotten back to doing what he loved. The problem was, he really hadn't. Much of their time together was spent arguing over the future direction of the Ghost Adventures Crew. I couldn't help, either, because every time I was around Aaron was making crude comments, till I snapped at last and told him off. Thankfully Zak wasn't around at the time. I figured Aaron would get mad and tell him, but he only smirked and went on his way.

Another problem caused by their collective preoccupation was that the deadline of my lease was coming due in a week, and half of my furniture still hadn't been moved. I co-opted Ross and Tristan one evening to help me out, but we couldn't get it all. I sighed and decided to do the best I could. Screw them all. I was accustomed to taking care of myself. I took off early another afternoon, and got most of what was left into a rental truck, except my bed. By the time I wrestled it all into my storage unit I was a sweaty hot mess. Then I remembered the key on my chain, to the GAC unit next door, blissfully air conditioned to keep their equipment operational. I opened the door and a puff of cool air greeted me. With a groan of gratitude I sat down and looked around me, my gaze falling on Aaron's box. I folded the flaps open and poked through the assortment of goodies, noting again the stiletto I'd coveted earlier. I wonder if he'd mind if I borrowed it. Not that I'd be any better with a knife than a gun, I guess. That reminded me of the old pistol. I found it and lifted it out gingerly, wondering if it might be a real Colt original. Uncle Bobby knew a bit about guns…but i quailed at the thought of calling him, especially right now. I could just see me saying 'oh, the guy I exorcised? Yeah, we're on the outs right now'. On the other hand, there were other hunters who wouldn't ask such questions. I dialed Dean's number. "Yo!" he answered.

"Dean! Claire. I have a question about a gun." I described the revolver and Aaron's account of its finding. Dean put his phone on speaker and hollered for Sam to join the conversation, then delighted in telling me how he had interrupted Sam's fixing his hair. I dragged the bickering brothers back on topic and repeated myself, even snapping a picture with my phone and sending it to them.

"What the fuck?" Dean said. "The Colt's gone, Sammy, so what the fuck is this?"

"Colt made more than one demon-killing weapon, Dean. He made Ruby's knife, after all."

"He what? You never told me that!"

"I did so! You just—"

"Ahem!" I cut them both off. "Wanna translate, please?"

After a suitably chastened moment of silence, Sam began, "Okay. To make a long story short, well, shortish, Samuel Colt made a pistol for killing demons. It was also the key to a giant devil's trap he built in Wyoming, to close off a gate to Hell there. That pistol was lost; but we, um, we found out he'd made other weapons for use against supernatural enemies. Knives and such."

"But not another gun," Dean put in. "Not that we know of anyway. I can't read the inscription in this shitty little photo; what's it say?"

"It's Latin," I replied. "It says 'vos vadum non timeo'. Means 'thou shalt not be afraid', right?"

"Right," Sam said. "And that would make sense; the Colt we had was inscribed with 'non timebo mala', or 'I will fear no evil'. So there's a pattern there."

"The trap in Wyoming is inactive now," Dean added. "It was pentagram shaped, with a church built at each of its points, but one was destroyed and broke its power. Your friend said he found this one in a ruined church in Wyoming? Well, the best place to hide a spare key is under the doormat. Could be Colt made this one and stashed it there as a backup."

"So, then, this gun might actually kill demons?" I asked, my mouth agape.

"Could be," Dean said. "Unfortunately, it has to be a kill shot, so you end up killing the possessed person too. But, if there's no other way to dislodge the demon, it's a mercy."

I thanked them and hung up, seriously shaken. Aaron had claimed the gun was no more than an antique, if that. Had he known it might be far more? And if he had, was that why he had lied?

Had he been ready to kill Zak, if he couldn't free him?