( WAX )

HOUSE
[ ☼ ]

       Consuela is sitting on a wooden bench, wrapped in a blanket, talking to a Police Officer and sobbing. Dean, Elena and Sam come outside and walk over to her. "No puedo vivir aquí. Necesito mi familia. Me voy ahora. Me voy a la casa. No-me voy a la casa en El Salvador ahora." She says.

       "Consuela Alvarez?" Dean asks.

       "Yes?"

       "FBI." Elena says as Dean and Sam both show their badges. The Police Officer leaves.

       "Now, uh, you said you saw something in the professor's house. Right? Something in the window?" Dean asks.

      "Estaba sacando la basura. Imiré por la ventana y vi al hombre que mató al Señor Hill!" Consuela says.

       Sam kneels in front of her. "Uh, Señora Alvarez. Cálmese, por favor. Uh-" He looks at Dean, thinking. "Uh, díganos lo que vio?"

      Dean grins. "Nice." He says.

      "Freshman Spanish." Sam shrugs.

        "Era alto. Muy alto. Y llevaba el abrigo negro largo y tenía bigotes."

       Sam glances between Dean, Elena and Consuela as he translates. "Okay, uh, a tall man, very tall. With a long black coat and a-" Sam gestures at his chin. "A beard?" Consuela nods. "Beard."

      "Y un sombrero."

       "Dude was wearing a sombrero?" Asks Dean.

      "Uh, a hat, not a-a-" Sam gestures near his head. 

      "No, no, no, un sombrero alto."

       "A tall hat?" Sam asks.

       "Oh, like a top hat." Dean says.

       "Un sombrero alto." Consuela gestures above her head. "Muy alto!"

       "What, you mean like a-like a stovepipe hat." Dean imitates her gesture. 

      "Sí."

       "Oh yeah, like Abraham Lincoln." Elena says and Sam shrugs.

      Consuela starts sobbing again. "Sí. El Presidente Lincoln." She says. Sam and Dean trade confused looks. "Abraham Lincoln kill Mister Hill!" She cries again.

      "Huh." Dean says.

      "S-so I go home now?"

      "Uh, sí. Gracias." Sam says.

      "Gracias." Dean and Elena say at the Sam time. Sam turns and frowns at Dean as Consuela walks away.

THE NITE OWL MOTEL
[ ☼ ]

      Sam, Elena and Dean sit at the table, Sam on his laptop and Dean on a new laptop. Sam brings up a webpage. Dean is rewatching the video of Cal's death. He notices something and frowns, then pauses the video and backs up a few frames until a figure in a red jacket appears reflected in the chrome of a car wheel.

      "Whoa." Says Dean.

      "What?" Elena asks. Dean goes back and forth between adjacent frames; the figure is present in one but not the other. He picks up the laptop and turns it around so Sam can see.

      "It's a freeze-frame from Jim Grossman's video." Dean says as Sam and Elena look at it. "Am I crazy, or does that look like James Dean?"

       "That looks like James Dean." Sam says.

      Dean sets the laptop back in front of himself. "So we got Abraham Lincoln, and James Dean?" He asks and Sam frowns. "Famous ghosts?"

      "Maybe." Sam says.

       "Well that's just silly." Dean says.

      "No, actually, uh, there is a ton of lore on famous ghosts. More than the, you know, not-famous kinds. I'm actually surprised we haven't run into one before." Sam says.

       "Yeah, but now we got two of 'em? Two extremely pissed-off ghosts?" Dean asks.

      "Who are apparently ganking their fans."

      "What do you mean?" Elena asks.

      Sam reads off the webpage. "Professor Hill was a Civil War nut. He dug Lincoln." He says.

      "And Cal must've been a James Dean freak. He spent seventeen years of his life tracking down the guy's car." Dean says. Sam raises his eyebrows knowingly. "So you're saying we've got two super-famous, super-pissed-off ghosts killing their...super-fans?"

      Sam shrugs. "That's what it looks like." He says.

      "Well, that is muchos loco." Dean says.

       Sam grins. "'Muy'." He says and Dean looks up. "Not 'muchos'."

      "Yeah, well, the big question is, what the hell are they doing here?" Elena asks.

      "Yeah. Ghosts usually haunt the places they live. I mean, I, I get Abraham Lincoln at the White House-" Sam starts.

      "And James Dean at a race track, but...what the hell are they doing in Canton?" Dean asks.

MOTEL ROOM
[ ☼ ]

       Sam is still working on his laptop while Dean stands by the sink, drinking a can of soda. Sam stops typing and frowns. "You gotta be kidding me." He says.

       "What?" Dean walks over and reads the screen. "You gotta be kidding me."

CANTON WAX MUSEUM
[ ☼ ]

      Sam, Elena and Dean walk through the wax museum, checking out the figures. Sam walks past John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon, then stops at Abraham Lincoln. Dean frowns at Gandhi. "Dude, he's short." Dean says.

      "Hey. Gandhi was a great man." Sam says.

       "Yeah, for a Smurf." Says Dean.

       The Museum Owner comes down the stairs at a half-jog, slightly out of breath. He is wearing a leather jacket. "Sorry to keep you waiting, this is our busiest time of the year." He says.

       Dean looks around at the empty rooms. "This is busy?" He asks.

      "Well, not right now, but it's early." The Owner says.

      "It's four-thirty." Elena says.

       "So, what can I do for you?"

       "Uh, well, we are writing a piece for Travel Magazine." Sam says.

       "Yeah, on how, uh, totally non-sucky wax museums are." Dean says.

       "That's fantastic. A little press, just what we need."

      "Great. Well we're interested in a few of your exhibits, specifically Abraham Lincoln and, uh, James Dean." Sam says.

      "Two of our most popular displays." Says The Owner.

      "Oh yeah? So they bring in a lot of visitors?" Elena asks.

       "Yeah, we have our regulars."

       "I don't suppose that, uh, William Hill and Cal Hawkins were regulars, were they?" Dean asks.

       The Owner nods. "As a matter of fact, they were. Yeah, I heard what happened to them. It's tragic, just tragic. Oh-you-that's not gonna be in the article, is it?" He asks.

      "No. No, no. 'Course not." Sam says.

       "You know, I gotta tell you, that-that Lincoln is so lifelike, I mean, you-I mean, you can just imagine him moving around. You ever see anything like that?"

      The Owner frowns. "Uh...no." He says.

      "No?" Dean asks.

       "Well, um, is there anything you could think of that would make your museum...unusual? You know, for the article?" Sam asks.

       "Well, I'll say. There isn't another place like us, not anywhere."

       "How so?" Asks Dean.

       "Well, for one, that's Honest Abe's real hat." The Owner points to Lincoln.

      "It is?" Sam asks.

      "Almost like his remains." Dean looks pointedly at Sam.

      The Owner frowns. "Uh...I guess?" He asks. Dean grins.

      "You wouldn't happen to have any of James Dean's personal effects, would you?" Elena asks.

      "Ooh, yeah. Got his keychain. We got a bunch of stuff, uh, Gandhi's bifocals, FDR's iron lung. This." The Owner indicates the leather jacket he's wearing.

      Sam frowns. "And who did that belong to?" He asks.

      "The Fonz. Seasons two through four!" The Owner does a double thumbs-up, grinning.

      "W-wow. Yeah, that's-that's really cool...ish." Sam says.

      "This? This is nothing. I've been working on a new collection of figures. Stuff that'll really wow the kids."

      "The kids?" Dean asks.

      "Yeah, Gen Y." The Owner says and Dean nods. "Computer games, cell phones, sexting." Dean raises his eyebrows. "They're just fads. I'm gonna make wax museums hip again." The Owner grins and gives his double thumbs-up again. Dean Chuckles and Sam returns the thumbs-up.

THE NITE OWL MOTEL
[ ☾]

      Sam opens the trunk of the Impala, takes out a shotgun and loads it with shells of rock salt, then puts the loaded shotgun back in and closes the lid. He and Elena go back into their room. Dean is talking on his cell phone, facing away from the door. "Yeah, Abraham Lincoln and James Dean, can you believe that? ...Why so kill-crazy? Ah, maybe the apocalypse has got 'em all hot and bothered. Yeah, well, we all know whose fault that is. ...Well I'm sorry, but it's true." Elena looks over at Sam who frowns, then pushes the door shut, causing Dean to spin around. "I'll call you later. Bye." He hangs up and turns to Sam.

      "What's going on?" Sam asks.

      "Did you guys get the trunk packed up?" Dean asks.

      "Yeah, trunk's packed. Who was on the phone?" Sam asks.

      "Bobby."

      "And?" Sam asks.

      Dean shakes his head. "Nothing." He says.

      "So we're just gonna pretend I didn't hear what I just heard?" Sam asks.

      Dean shrugs. "Pretend or don't pretend. Whatever floats your boat." He says.

      "This was supposed to be a fresh start, Dean." Elena says as Dean picks up his jacket.

      "Well, this is about as fresh as it gets. Now are we going or not?" Dean walks to the door, opens it, and leaves. Elena follows. Sam watches him go, sighs, and follows him.

WAX MUSEUM
[ ☾]

      Sam and Dean walk through the museum, past Gandhi. Dean approaches Lincoln and takes off his hat as Sam fetches a metal trash can. Sam turns around to find Dean wearing Lincoln's hat. "Check it out." Dean lowers his voice, imitating Lincoln. "Four score and seven years ago, I had a funny hat."

      "Dean." Sam sighs and puts the trash can down, holding his hand out for the hat.

       "We can't have any fun with this?" Dean takes the hat off and tosses it into the trash can.

      "I'm surprised you remember your History." Elena says.

      "Let's just torch the objects, torch the ghosts, get outta here. Okay?" Sam asks.

      "I'll go grab East of Eden's keychain." Dean walks into the next room. Sam scans the room. He looks at Lincoln, then narrows his eyes and leans in closer. The double doors Dean went through slam shut.

      Sam spins around. "Dean?" He calls out. Sam goes over to the doors, shotgun in hand.

      "Dean?" Elena says. Sam tries the door handles but the doors won't budge. He notices his breath condensing in front of him and spins around, shotgun held at the ready. He looks from Lincoln to Gandhi and back again as he creeps forward slowly. Sam hears a creak to his left and he turns.

      The shotgun flies out of his hands. Defenseless, Sam stands still for a second and Gandhi leaps onto his back. He wraps his arms around Sam's neck but Sam slams him into the wall and Gandhi falls off. He gets up and they circle around each other, then he scrambles under Sam's legs and jumps on his back again.

      "A little help here." Sam throws himself backwards and crashes through a table, and Gandhi lets go momentarily but jumps on Sam's back a third time and begins to strangle him just as Dean bursts through the double doors. "Dean!"

      "Is that Gandhi?" Dean asks.

       "Yeah!" Elena yells.

      "Dude, he's squirrelly." Says Dean:

      "Get the-" Sam starts as Gandhi elbows him in the chest, winding him. Sam indicates Gandhi's wax figure with a shake of his head and Dean runs over to it. "Do it!"

      "Get the what?" Dean asks.

      "Glasses!" Sam begins to gasp and choke, running out of oxygen. Dean grabs the glasses off the Gandhi wax figure and runs over to the trash can. He throws them in, squirts lighter fluid on them and finally lights them on fire with a match. Gandhi disappears, and Sam gasps for air.

       "You couldn't have been a fan of someone cool?" Dean asks as Sam stares. "Really? Gandhi?"