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“No, they like the idea of being hunters,” Dean says, “Those two find hunts the same way we step in dog shit.”
Sam can’t deny it either. “Yeah… I wouldn’t say they have good instincts. Or any instincts.” A brief pause. “They’ve got to be well over forty.”
Dean rolls his sarcasm into the slosh of a bottle, “Some never grow out of it.”
“They did.” Gadreel arranges the limp Ghostfacers into a more comfortable position. “This one is an accountant, and his friend a… video editor? Soon to be a father.”
Dean snorts, “You’re telling me Ed fucks?”
That’s right ladies and gentlemen, Ed Zeddmore fucks. With one Ghostfacer soon to be a bonafide baby daddy, for realsies, Ed and Harry plan a triple-hitter hunt to celebrate the end of boy time. Unfortunately for everyone involved, they’re not the only supernaturalists in the area. Read on as The Ghostfacers face off with the Winchesters and their angelic arm candy through three east coast cryptids. Humor, romance, and a little bit of existential dread. What more could you ask for?