The End | {BOOK 5}

19| Scooby Doo and the Gang

Back at the Bunker, I recruited Sam to help me look into the bizarre behavior of the dinosaur from the shop while Dean vanished somewhere with the TV he'd gotten from the pawn shop.

"Hey, what are you doin'?" he asked us a little while later.

"Uh, research," Sam replied.

"Okay."

"You know it's the strangest thing," I added. "W-we can't find anything on a-a cursed object that actually physically attacks people."

"Ellie, it's over. Alright? Be like Elsa- let it go."

I turned around in my chair to stare incredulously at my husband.

"'Be like Elsa'?" I repeated, smirking a little.

Dean nodded, winking at me.

"Ah? Right? Come here. I need to show you something. It's important. Come on."

He led Sam and I down the hall to a dark room next to the rec room where Maddie and Zep were watching Scooby Doo.

"Behold..." Dean flipped on the light, "... the Dean-cave. Or Fortress of Dean-a-tude. Just- still trying to figure that one out."

"What about-" I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder at the rec room next door.

"That one's for the kids to use. This is for us," Dean explained. "We got Foosball. We've got jukebox- all vinyl, obviously. Double Lay-Z-Boy recliners. And, of course, the bar. Still a work-in-progress. It's gonna have a kegerator because... Well, it's gonna. And finally... the pièce de résistance."

He picked up a remote, pointing it at the television he'd gotten from the pawn shop.

"Okay, hold on, hold on," Sam stopped him. "When did you have time to do all this?"

"When it's important, you make time, Sammy," Dean smirked.

"Wh-"

"Let's give this boy a test run, huh?"

Dean turned the television on, and purple sparks emanated from it while a purple swirling pattern began on screen.

"What the hell?" I asked.

A purple beam shot out of the screen, engulfing all three of us.

"Dean, what just-" I began, looking around at the forest we were suddenly in.

We turned, looking at each other at the same time.

"Aah!" all three of us chorused, pointing at each other. "You're a cartoon! I'm a cartoon!"

"Uh, is- is this.... Okay, okay, okay," Sam said. "This is a dream. It's gotta be a-"

Dean slapped him across the face, leaving behind a huge handprint.

"Dude!" Sam cried.

He shook his head, face returning to normal... or normal for a cartoon, anyway.

"It's not a dream," Dean said. "Holy crap."

"This is, uh..." I swallowed. "You saw that light. Did we just get sucked into the TV?"

"Or maybe this is an angel thing," Dean suggested. "Or- or the Trickster?"

"No, he's dead," Sam reminded him.

"Or is he?"

"Guys, what the hell?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean shrugged. "I..."

He stopped, looking past Sam.

"Whoa."