Work Text:
Rattling The Spirits
It wasn’t easy to rattle Peter Venkman. Aside from all he’d dealt with in his life and career as a paranormal psychologist, he’d run across so much weird shit, up to and including cats and dogs living together, that almost nothing surprised him anymore.
Note the emphasis on the word almost. The phone call he’d just received had rocked his proverbial world to its very foundation, creating wave after crashing wave of shock within a soul he had thought before could never be so set in turmoil.
There was some group in California – living in a city called Sunnydale, of all things – that wanted to keep the Ghostbusters on commission to use their containment unit as a trash disposal for evil spirits.
They were prepared to give them a very nice retainer, but how the hell had none of them heard of the Hellmouth before? Egon, with all his research, and Ray, with all his enthusiasm for every new source of paranormal information. Even Winston, who’d heard more than his fair share of odd myths and legends back in the Army.
Maybe it had been a sealed up Hellmouth that had unleashed all those ghosts years ago in New York.
Whatever it was, it really rattled Peter that maybe – just maybe, mind you – this ‘International Watcher’s Council’ had been doing the ghost-busting thing before the actual Ghostbusters had ever even thought of being formed.
Also, apparently the first ectoplasmic entity they wanted to send to them was the Easter Bunny. Demonic chicken eggs and possessed chocolate or somesuch oddness.
Even if Ray did end up actually creating his perpetual motion machine – that he’d been working on off and on for the past fourteen years – Peter didn’t think he could get more rattled.
Or, at least, he hadn’t thought so. Then December rolled around, and the ‘Scoobie Gang’s’ monthly surplus of spirits sent their way included Santa Claus and over half a dozen elf demons.