Why Am I Here?

by QiuAki

Summary:

One eventful night, Sharon gets dumped into the world of Supernatural. According to all the other fanfictions, this happens for a reason right? The person being transported has some kind of a super power or a new kind of duty to accomplish. So what's hers? Well, she could technically save the world if she could, but... she can't. Then why is she here?
Stick around to find out.

UPDATE: SEASON 2 CONTINUES HERE ITSELF. I gave up on making another work for Season 2 of the series. Plus I like seeing 39 kudos and increasing- LOL. Anyways, Season 2 is here as well :)

I wrote this on a whim after binging SPN over winter break. Yeah, it's only gonna take a month. Trust. I binge animes.

Chapter 1: Where the Hell-

Notes:

Changed the Chapter title to an actual title. Also changed the dates a little. It's only 1997 now, not 1999. Shouldn't affect the rest of the story in any way.

“Ow, ow, ow…” I hissed in pain as I pushed myself up.

Where in the hell was I? It was pitch black where I was, and my head throbbed like crazy. It felt like I was gonna die. I held back a whimper of pain. I needed to get an idea of my situation. I blinked a few times to adjust my eyesight to the darkness. There was blood on the gravel below me. Awesome, I was bleeding. I looked around a little more. Cars. everywhere. Some were even piled on top of each other. The scene felt all too familiar. But I’d never been to a place like this before. Besides, wasn’t I hiking with my friends on a mountain in France? I sucked in a breath. I needed to call for help.

Okay. So. I had my bag with me. Judging by the weight still on my back. But where was my phone? I hissed in pain and felt around in the dark. The moonlight was doing little to light up my surroundings. I felt relief when my hand landed on the familiar back of my phone case. Wait. Was my phone okay then? I quickly brought it to my face and lifted it up into the sky. The moonlight bounced off the black screen. Not a single scratch. Other than the microscratches on the screen protector from my nails. But that could be fixed. Great. Now, did I have reception? The SOS sign on the right corner blatantly said no. Great.

“Who’s there?” a man called out. The voice sounded awfully familiar. But I kept myself hidden behind the many cars and trucks. Was this man going to help me? Or was he the one who kidnapped me and threw me in here to play some kind of sick game. And where were my friends anyway? Were they alright? Had they been killed by this guy?

The footsteps started to get closer. I ducked and ran between cars, trying to make as little noise as possible. But the man must have excellent hearing because a shot rang out and hit the spot I was in just a second ago. Great, he had a gun. And his aim was good. My heart hammered in my chest and I could feel myself getting light headed. But not yet. I needed to stay on my toes. This was not the time to panic.

“I know you’re there! Come on out!”

I tried to figure out my options. Follow the man’s orders, and potentially get killed without a struggle. Or get the fuck out of here, and potentially get killed on the way with a struggle. Neither choice was appealing. Amazing. Just amazing.

Another shot. This time, it hit the car I was hiding behind. “I know you’re behind that one. So come on out!”

Okay, okay. I had been spotted. Might as well just surrender. Maybe he would make my death quick. But I didn’t want to die like this. Mom. Dad. Brother. I’m sorry. And my friends too. I’m so sorry. This was the end. I closed my eyes to force back the tears. I raised my hands and peeked out from behind the car.

“You run away from home or something?” the man sighed and put his gun away at my sight. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.” I answered truthfully. Maybe the man didn’t want to hurt me, and was just trying to defend himself.

“Well, come on closer.” he beckoned with his finger.

Okay. He hadn’t shot me yet. So obviously. I should be fine. Right? Besides, it wasn’t like I could outrun him when he was the expert shot with the gun. Now that I was out in the moonlight, I could get a good look at his face. Bobby? Bobby Singer? Oh, so this was a dream. Meh. I couldn’t be killed in a dream right? So I followed Bobby’s instructions.

The second I took a step closer, I was splashed with water. What the–

“Hold this.” he threw a knife in my direction. What the actual– “Pick it up or I shoot.” He was aiming the gun at me again.

Okay. Okay. Weird dream. I picked up the knife and held it in my hands. If this was a dream then why was I being put through the whole checking process of whether I was a supernatural being? Usually it was something raunchy like being in bed with Dean or something terrifying like a ghost crawling out of the bathroom mirror and there being some dead girl by my window. And the throbbing in my head felt all too realistic.

This was a dream right? I pinched my cheek. Bobby looked confused at my action. If this was a dream then I should be able to summon the Winchesters at my own free will. Or wish myself away from all of this. Then I would know this really was a dream.

I looked to the side of Bobby and pictured Sam and Dean next to him. But nothing happened. I frowned. Was I not trying hard enough? No. It couldn’t be. I was doing my best to wish this away. I considered myself amazing at lucid dreaming, and I’d never failed until now. What if this really was reality? No way, right? After all, being transported to a different world only happened in manhwas, mangas, and fanfictions.

“What’re you doing, kid?” Bobby asked.

“Uh. Nothing.” Hold on, how could this even be a dream? I was in the mountains. On a hike. After which we slid on a steep muddy area. And I’d fallen straight to here. What the hell? “I’m not a demon or a skinwalker. If that’s what you were worried about.”

“Hunter?” Bobby put his gun aside again.

“Uh. Not really. A hunter saved me a while ago.”

He would definitely think I was crazy if I told him he was a TV character. For now this small lie would have to do. Besides, I wasn’t exactly wrong. A hunter did save me, well technically Y/N in a fanfiction. But it did happen in my brain.

You’re a weird one.” Bobby snorted. “You’re not a werewolf, I’m assuming. Because it’s a full moon and you’re still… well, human. You a vampire?” Bobby slit his arm.

“Uh. No.” I felt around my gums. “I don’t have the retractable fang stuff.”

Bobby threw his hands in defeat. “Well, come on in, then.” he ushered me to follow him. And so I did.

“Coffee or something? You look too young to drink.” He offered me a seat in the papery mess of his house.

“Coffee is fine.” I watched him as he started the coffee machine.

“What’s a kid like you doing here?” He grabbed a box and started pulling out disinfectant and some gauze. “And how’d you get that?”

“I fell.” I mumbled. He started dabbing a giant ball of cotton full of the stinging disinfectant on the cut. It stung like hell.

“Almost done.” he muttered. He went through about three fistfulls of cotton before he was satisfied. And by the time he was done, I found myself dizzy from the stinging. “Here comes the hard part. Hold on, kid.”

I shuddered when Bobby grabbed the needle and thread. I wasn’t the greatest fan of being stuck by needles. But I did trust Bobby. If the show was true to the happenings in this world, then the Hunters were the best paramedics you could ask for. They probably couldn’t cure cancer, but they sure as hell could keep you alive long enough to get treatment for it.

“Ah!” I shrieked when the needle dug into my head. “It hurts!”

“Quit squirming.” Bobby scoffed and held me in place with one hand.

I braced myself by gripping the sides of the chair I was on as the man patched me up. I held my breath as steady as possible, trying not to move so that it didn’t hurt. Yet, by the time Bobby was done wrapping the gauze around my head, my cheeks had been drenched in tears.

“So who was the Hunter that had helped you?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t remember.” I answered. “It was a long time ago.”

“Oh.” He stood up. “Coffee’s done. You take milk or sugar?”

I pressed my lips together. I’d completely forgotten. Lactose intolerance had hit me like a truck on my 18th birthday. If milk wasn’t going to sweeten it up, then… “Uhh. Sugar. A lot of it.”

“This enough?” Bobby stood there awkwardly with a spoonful of sugar.

I… definitely needed more than that. “Two more of that please…”

Bobby cringed as he dumped three spoons of sugar into mine. “This ain’t coffee anymore.” Still, he placed it softly in front of me.

“Thank you.” I wrapped my cold fingers around the nearly scalding cup of coffee.

“So, kid.” Bobby sat across from me. “What brings you here?”

Oh Bobby. Sweet sweet Bobby. “I. Uh.” I did my best to come up with a reasonable answer. “I kind of ran away from home… and I ended up here.” Well I wasn’t lying for sure. I did kind of go to France with my friends to get away from my parents. And I did kind of just end up here.

Bobby nodded, eyeing me. “And where are you from, young lady?”

“Texas.” I provided. “Somewhere in the Dallas area. Also, um.” Should I even say this? But if he went through my bag he would find out at some point. “It’s also a question of when. I’m from the year 2024.”

Bobby sighed, grabbing a bottle from the side of the table and popping it open. “Are you now?”

“Yeah.”

“I think you had one drink too many kid. It’s the year 1997. You’re 28 years ahead.”

“I-i don’t drink.” He raised an eyebrow as if saying ‘sure you don’t.’ Of course he wasn’t going to believe me. “Um. Here, look– my iPhone– well cell phone in this era.” I passed him my iPhone. “It’s the iPhone 12 mini. It doesn’t come out till, like, man I don’t know 2020?”

“It just looks like a purse.” Bobby dangled my phone by the strap of its case.

“Uh. Yeah, that’s the case. To keep my phone safe. It looks like a purse cause it also acts like one. I’ve got my driver’s license, credit cards, and university ID in there.”

Bobby opened the clasp and analysed the cards. “Dates do say it’s from the 2020s. Either you’re really good at forging documents or you’re telling the truth. Sharon Maris?”

“Yeah.” I watched him play around with the case, slipping my phone in and out of it. “You should tap on the screen.”

“Like that’ll work.” he scoffed but tapped it anyway. He jumped when it lit up bright. Much brighter than any electronic would in this era. “What the hell.” he stared at it in awe. “It’s like a flashlight.” He narrowed his eyes. “January 3, 2025.” He read the date.

“Press the button on the left bottom corner.” I said without another thought. I hissed when the flashlight of my phone burned into my eyes. “Point that thing away from me!”

“And you’re saying this is a cell phone.” Bobby squinted at it. “Did you drug my bottle or something?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I have nothing except for my electronics and a change of clothes. We were backpacking across France when I ended up falling here.”

“So the running away from home was bullcrap. What else are you lying about?”

“I didn’t lie about that part.” I sipped the coffee. Ugh… it was still so bitter.

“Just use some milk in it.” Bobby rolled his eyes.

“Can’t. Lactose intolerant.” I grabbed the spoon he offered me and started violently spinning it around. I could feel lumps of sugar on the bottom of the cup. This was going to take a while.

“I went all the way to Europe to get away from my family.” I explained. “Been stuck with them for the past 18 years of my life. I love them, don't get me wrong. And now that I’m here…” I leaned back against the chair. “I miss them. I’m not from this world you know. I come from a place where Hunters don’t exist. Ghosts don’t exist. Whatever it is y’all do, it doesn’t exist there.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? You knew I was a Hunter.”

“Yeah cause y’all are from a TV show called Supernatural. Your lives are laid out to us on a screen. I know a lot about you guys. Not everything of course, but a lot.”

“You’re telling me I’m the character of some show and people enjoy watching it?”

“Yeah, actually.” I hid my face behind the cup of coffee, and took a sip. “You’re one of my favorite characters. Bobby Singer.”

“Then tell me something only I would know.”

“The only thing I can come up with isn’t something pleasant.”

“Try me.” He took another swig of booze.

“Alright. But don’t kill me.” I backed the chair I was on by a little bit. I eyed the door from the corner of my eye. If Bobby jumped me, I was taking my sad chances. “Your wife got possessed by a demon and you had to… you know…” I couldn’t say the rest without tearing up for the man.

Bobby remained silent. “And what was her name?”

“Karen Singer.”

The man closed his eyes. “Don’t worry kid, I won't kill you.” He ran a hand over his face. “You’re not lying.” Bobby sighed. “And I ran all the tests on you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just a harmless little girl.”

“You trust me?”

“Oh of course not.” Bobby chuckled. “It’s adorable how you would think that."

Of course. Why would he? For all he knew I could be someone who hates Hunters and is here to kill him.

He leaned forwards. “So you said I was one of the characters. Care to tell me who the others are?”

Chapter 2: Main Characters

Notes:

If you didn't see the update from the previous chapter- it's 1997 not 1999. I changed the dates a little so the relationship progress is a little more realistic.

“You’re telling me that Dean and Sam are the main characters?” Bobby was taken aback. “Those two idjits?”

“Well, people liked watching them.” I shrugged.

“So what, you know their whole life story until now?”

“It’s actually what comes after that.” I dropped the spoon into the empty cup. “A lot of people in my world know what happens to them. We only got their lives before the show in flashbacks and tidbits of information.”

“And when does the show start?”

“It starts in–” I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Huh. That was weird. I tried again. “It starts in–” Yet, not a single word. It was right at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it. Why?

“Do you not want to say it?” Bobby shook his head.

“I can’t.” I said truthfully. I grabbed at my neck. Why couldn’t I say 2005? What if I just said 2005? Still, nothing. What if I added the numbers? “1001 plus 1004.” Huh. That worked surprisingly.

“What?” Bobby frowned. “Why are you giving me math problems?”

“I can’t say the year for some reason. So I tried giving you the years by adding them up.” I touched my mouth. It was like censoring certain words in video games. You could easily circle past them just by saying it in a different way.

“2005?” Bobby asked.

I tried to confirm it, but nothing came out. I tried nodding my head. But nothing.

Don’t try it again.

“Did you say something Bobby?”

“I asked if it was 2005?”

Don’t confirm it. I won’t let you.

If Bobby wasn’t saying it… then who was? I stood up from my chair and looked around. Nothing. There was no one.

“Kid, what’s wrong?”

“Someone’s talking to me–”

Don’t talk about me!

A sharp pain rang in my ears. It hurt. It hurt so bad.

“Sharon?” Bobby was immediately next to me.

“It hurts…” I managed to force out. But the ringing only got worse. It soon crept to my head. “Make it stop!” But it wouldn’t. Of course it wouldn’t.

You may have managed to get away with telling him the year. But anything else, and I will make sure you can never do anything again.

And suddenly, everything went black.

 

“Why’s there a chick on the couch Bobby?” someone yelled.

Who the hell was yelling? And Bobby? Was this another dream?

“Leave the kid alone.”

“You didn’t tell me you had guests over.”

“Is it even alright for us to be here, then?”

“She knows already. So it’s fine. Came from some other dimension where it’s January 4th 2025, it was the 3rd yesterday. But exactly 28 years from now. Said we’re characters in a TV show, and as far as I could tell, she was… sane. Not a nutcase. Not even drunk.”

“No way. The girl’s delusional.”

Could they not talk about me that way in my presence? I forced an eye open. Bright sunlight seared my eyes. Damn it. I slammed my arm over my eyes and turned around. My face hit the softness of the couch I was most likely on. I opened my eyes once more, and let myself adjust to the bright daylight. I much preferred the dimness of Bobby’s desk lamp.

“She’s up, Dad, Uncle Bobby!” A blond kid popped into my view. He looked like… Sam. Sam Winchester. A much younger Sam Winchester than I was used to.

“Let her wake up on her own… You need me to watch them for a few days?” Bobby asked.

“Yeah. This one’s a bigger hunt. I don’t think I can take these two with me.” I recognised that as John Winchester.

“I can go with you though Dad.” And… that must have been Dean Winchester. The famous womaniser. And honestly? He had my heart too. At least the 26 year old one did.

“No, Dean. Not this one. It’s a vampire nest. Besides, you should be studying for that GED.”

GED? How old was he right now then? I racked my brain for the dates. Dean was born in 1979. And it was 1997 right now. So he was 18. A grand total of ten months older than yours truly. But wait, what month in 1997? No wait. It was January 4th 1997. His birthday was in late January as far as I could remember. So… he was 17. Two months younger than me. And Sam must be 13, soon to be 14.

I pushed myself up. My head felt heavy. Oh right, I had stitches and a bandage on it.

“Hey!” I almost jumped when Sam crept up behind me. “Are you really from another world?”

“Uhh… I think so. I don’t think you can sleep in your dreams so…” I laughed nervously at the young boy.

“I’m Sam.” the kid held out a hand.

“I kn– I’m Sharon.” I grabbed it and shook it. I’d almost told him I knew him.

“You know me right?” Sam grinned. “Bobby told us.” So I had nothing to worry about. But was Sam always this friendly? “You went to college, or go to college, or will go to college, right?”

How did he– Oh right. I was wearing a University shirt.

“Yeah. I’m a sophomore right now.” But I was in another world. “Or was–” But also, I wasn’t in college yet… “Or will be– You know what. Yeah, I’m in college. Let’s just roll with that.”

“College?” Dean flopped onto the couch opposite the one I was on. “You skip a couple of grades or something?”

I shrugged. “I skipped kindergarten. Doesn’t really count.”

“Wow, young and smart.” Dean flashed me a smirk and sauntered over to sit next to me. Was he flirting with me?

“I’m older than you.” I dodged the arm he was trying to put around me.

“Wh-what?” I loved the shocked expression on his face.

“Dean. Stop flirting with every woman you see.” Sam slapped his brother’s arm away.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” I grabbed my bag from the floor and left the two boys to duke it out. Wait– where was the bathroom again? I caught Bobby’s eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Second door on the left. There’s a clean towel in there too.” he pointed down the hallway. As I turned around, I caught a glimpse of John Winchester eying me warily. Of course he would be nervous about his kids being around me. I was a stranger, who claimed to know a lot about all of them. I pressed my lips into a smile, hoping it would put the bearded man at ease. It did little to do so. I sighed.

“Thanks, Bobby.” I slipped inside the bathroom and peeled off my shirt.

I sniffed it and flinched. God. It stank. And even then Dean was hitting his shots. He was much more of a womanizer than I’d thought. I wiggled out of my jeggings and shimmied out of my undergarments. Then I turned on the shower slowly. I couldn’t get the dressing around my head wet. The wound needed to heal. I stepped into the shower, doing my best to keep my head dry. My thoughts started to run wild.

Would I ever be able to go home? Would I see my parents again? What about my friends? Were they still hunting for me? Were they panicking and crying as they called my family to let them know I was probably never going to come back?

You think too much.

I gasped as the voice entered my head again. Who was this guy?

I am neither man nor woman.

Then who?

You mean what. I am an Angel.

Angel? That made no sense. Angels didn’t show up until season 4.

You being there was a clerical error.

Huh?

You were never meant to be born.

I blinked. What the fu–

You were meant to be in this world from the beginning. But one of our idiot worker angels sent you to the wrong one.

So my parents were meant to be childless?

No. They were meant to have your brother. But not you.

So… they were meant to grieve over a lost daughter? My chest felt heavy as I realised. They were never going to know where I was. If they didn’t grieve me then, then they would grieve me now. I dug my heels into my eyes as I tried to keep the tears from falling. I could picture them crying over my body as it burned. And it hurt. No parent should have to watch their child die. And my brother. My poor brother. Who would keep him company when he got upset? Who would listen to him as he confessed to liking pink over blue and his type of women being tall and busty? Despite my tears, I felt a smile come onto my face as I remembered him making an hourglass figure with his hands while he described his ideal woman to me. That was just one of the few things you couldn’t share with your parents.

No point crying over spilt milk. Anyways, I was waiting for you to wake up. I have work to do other than this. Now remember. Do not. Under any circumstance. Reveal the future. Try to get around it and we will find you and make sure you never do anything again.

Then why was I brought here?

To set things right. The brothers have caused many deaths that never should have happened.

But they saved a lot of people.

Not as many as they could have.

Yeah, because they didn’t know how to hold pressure on someone’s wounds.

Exactly.

But then why me? Wouldn’t a doctor have been better?

Because you were always meant to be here. I must go now.

Wait! I had so many questions to ask.

All in due time. But not today. See you later.

I looked around as the voice went silent. Not another word, not anything. It was gone. Just like that.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in the towel. I pulled out another University shirt and a fresh pair of jeans that were too long for my height. But they were being sold for 9 dollars. Who said no to that? I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked the same. Same eyes, same hair, same cheeks with acne littered everywhere. Then I looked down at my body. Same old one. Giant thighs that got rashes when they rubbed together, and that small pouch under my belly button that bulged out if I drank even a drop of water. And for some reason I was supposed to save people? Hah! What a joke. I could barely even roll out of bed without having my bones creak.

I walked out of the bathroom and headed up to where Bobby was still sitting with John. It looked like they were going over a case together. “Can I have a fresh bandage?” I asked.

The two men looked up at me. “Sure.” Bobby reached for his first aid box and pulled out a small bandaid.

I frowned. “Is that even gonna cover it?”

“Don’t be a sissy. You have three stitches. It’s not like your skull got cracked open. That bandaid’ll cover the whole thing.”

Seriously? I stared at the tiny bandaid. It was larger than standard size but would that really cover my stitches?

“Ask Dean or Sam to help you out with it.” John offered. “They’re good with that kind of stuff.”

“Um. I will. Thanks.” I held out my palm for the bandaid and Bobby unceremoniously dropped it into my hand.

“You need help with something sweetheart?” I turned around to see Dean leaning against the doorframe to the living room. The way my heart fluttered at the nickname. Ugh.

“I can help!” Sam chimed.

“Thanks.” I sat down on the couch.

I hissed as he slowly unwrapped the giant bandage. I knew why Bobby had used that giant thing. It was to keep the stitches in place so that they would settle. But now that it had settled mostly, a band aid would do just fine. Still didn’t help my skepticism.

“Owww!” I tried not to flinch away when Sam got down to the gauze pad pressed against my cut. “Wait, maybe don’t peel that off.”

“But we have to.” Dean said. “That bandaid won’t cover it.”

“But it’s gonna hurt.”

“A lot of things hurt in this world.”

“Shut up.” I snapped. I was in a world of hurt and that’s all he had to say? “You think I wanted to be thrown into this world? You think I wanted to be stuck with the main characters of a TV show? Sure I’ve fantasised about it, but I never actually wanted to be here. I had to leave my family because of this. I had a life! And now I have nothing! Just a bag with less than a millionth of the things I love!”

The tears were falling now. Sam looked terrified and Dean looked guilty.

“I-i didn’t mean to–” Dean started.

“Shut up.” I looked down at my feet. “Sorry Sam, I can do the rest on my own. And I can help you with what you want– Just– give me a minute.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam grabbed the old bandage and started pushing Dean out of the room. “Come on Dean, give her some space.”

“Thanks.” I whispered. But I doubted they could hear it.

Chapter 3: Plans

“Back on your feet?”

I turned around as Bobby wandered into the kitchen.

“Looks good.”

“Thought I would make something for lunch. Y’all seem to live on fast food.”

“Why do you say ‘y’all’ when you don’t even have a Texan accent?”

“Texas things.” I shrugged. “Everyone in my community talks this way.”

“Community?”

“Yeah.” There was no need to elaborate any more. Racism must be rampant in this era.

“Hey, um,” Sam peeked over my shoulder. “Can I help?” The kid must be hitting his growth spurt because he was only a couple inches shorter than me. When my brother hit his, he skyrocketed to 6’2” in less than a year.

“How well can you handle a knife?” I asked.

“Good enough to kill a vampire in two tries.” He answered nonchalantly.

I had nothing to say. A thirteen year old was already killing vampires? And by that he meant decapitation right? “Um, I’m sure you don’t need the same level of strength to chop up… vegetables.” I stared at the carrots in my hand. Yeah, he did not need that level of strength for these. “Go ahead.” I stepped aside and let him work his excellent chopping skills.

“Dean! Where are you boy?!” Bobby yelled. “Come help me out in the shed!”

“Coming, Bobby!” The two men were soon out the door.

“Say, you went to college right?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, you could say so.” I turned on the heat on the stove and placed the frying pan on it– ugh I was supposed to boil the damn noodles before frying them. “Where’s the damn pot… Oh there it is.”

“So.” Sam cleared his throat. “Can you keep this a secret?” Sam asked. “I don’t want Dad or Dean to find out.”

“Um, yeah of course.” Fill up the pot halfway with water, then put the noodles in… I just dumped the whole packet in there. As far as I was aware, one grown man and two growing boys ate a lot. “You wanna go to college, right?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s smile faltered. “How did you know that?”

“I know.” I flashed him what I hoped was a gentle smile. “I know a lot of things about this world. But I can’t reveal the future. Like– I can’t . But I do know what you want. And you know what? I’ll help you get in. That's what you want right? A life away from all of this?”

Sam nodded. “Please don’t tell the others.” He gave me those puppy eyes and I couldn’t refuse his request. Not like I was planning to tell them anyway.

“Of course.” I patted his shoulder. “Study hard and you’ll get in.”

“So– what APs would you recommend?”

“In my world, school was really competitive, so all APs I guess. But this is like, what, three decades earlier? There’s no way competition is that fierce yet, right? What’s y’all’s average GPA?”

“Uh, for Dean’s grade it’s around 2.5.”

I almost dropped the butter I was grabbing from the fridge. “Only?!”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yeah… is that bad?”

“The average GPA in my high school was a 3.8”

Now it was Sam’s turn to almost drop the knife. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “I barely managed to scrape by. You couldn’t get into UT even after being in the top 6% of your school. You had to be, like, top 5 students or something.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. it’s not that bad. If you tried you could get into a decent school.” I poked the noodles and turned off the heat. I dropped a slice of butter on a pan and put that on instead. “Done with the veggies?” I asked.

“Yeah. What do I do with them? Put them in the pan with the butter. It’ll start frying. Do you know how to crack an egg?”

“Uh, kind of?”

“Same. Give it your best shot.” I handed him four eggs.

“All in there?”

“Yep.” I tilted the pot with the noodles and water over the sink that was running cold water. “I’ll put these in once I’ve strained it.”

The rest of it was easy, Sam and I just stirred the mixture until the eggs were completely fried and voila. Food. Real food.

Bobby and Dean walked back in as soon as we started setting the table.

“Something smells good.” Bobby nodded at the giant pan in the middle of the cleared up dining table.

“Wash your hands, Dean.” Sam chimed when he spotted Dean trying to poke the food.

“Geez.” Dean mumbled but washed his hands at the kitchen sink anyway.

“I had a question.” I stated once everyone had their own pile of food.

“Shoot.” Bobby said.

“I need to take the GED. How.”

“Sioux Falls High School offers it. That’s where Dean’s taking his.” Sam provided

“Didn’t you graduate already?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, but not here.”

“Next thing I know you’re gonna say you wanna go to college.” Dean laughed.

“I do.” I glared at him. “And I think it’s a great idea. I might do it online though. Get a job when I’m not studying.”

“You’re not gonna hunt?” Dean seemed shocked.

“It’s not like I want to.” I shrugged.

“Let the kid be.” Bobby shook his head. “If she wants to get a job let her. She can help out with the bills.”

“Exactly. And college isn’t free.”

“How much did you spend on yours?”

“18,000 per semester. And it was a public college too.” I frowned at the huge number. The others’ eyes looked like they were gonna fall out.

“That’s robbery.” Bobby scoffed. “Did they keep you guys in some kind of palace?”

“I wish. I lived at home.”

“Balls.”

“I know.”

Once everyone was done eating and shrieking over college prices, I gathered up enough motivation to do the week old dishes in the sink and to clean up the kitchen as much as humanly possible. Job hunting could start once I set the place straight.

“So you’re just going to stay here?” Dean asked. He held out a hand for the dish I’d just finished scrubbing. There was a towel in his hand.

“It seems like an unspoken agreement.” I passed it onto him. It felt domestic. Very domestic. I cringed at the next plate I’d pulled out. “Is that mold?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” Dean chuckled. “You know everything about us, huh? You know Sam wants to go to college?”

“He’s not very good at keeping secrets is he?”

“Not really. But I know him more than he knows himself. He’s family.”

“I guess.”

Seeing Dean smiling at the thought of Sam made me think about my own brother. Was he doing okay? Did another kid break his lego cars and make him mad? Or was he still grumbling about me stealing his Qiqi plushie? Did he even know I was gone?

“Did you have family back there?”

“Yeah.” I managed to keep the tears at bay. “Good one too. I kind of ran away from home though.” I laughed to myself. “It was a dumb idea. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t.” I cleared my throat. Change of topics. “Where did Sam and Bobby go?”

“Sam said he ran out of school supplies. Bobby went with him to Dollar Tree.”

“You don’t have anything for your school?”

“Who cares. It’s not like I’ll actually graduate from a school. I’ll just take my GED and then go hunting full time.”

“You sound like you have a plan. But don’t you have to study for the GED?”

“I just need to know enough to pass it.” I caught him smirking at me from the corner of my eye. “Or were you wanting to help me study , sweetheart?” Was he winking at me? This damn flirt.

“I’m not irresponsible like you.” I shoved the next pan into his hands a little harder. “I know I’m going to pass. And I’m not one for… study sessions in the janitor’s closet.”

He sighed. “You know about that too?”

“You cheat on the girls you’re dating too. Sadly I don’t have a kink for it.” But that one fanfiction I’d read on tumblr did give me a kink for doing it in the backseat of the Impala while wearing Dean’s brown leather jacket. It was so beautifully written even an asexual person like me had enjoyed every single word of it. “How long are you guys gonna keep watching me?”

“Until we know you’re absolutely harmless.”

“Fair.” I passed him the last of the dishes and turned around to look at the remaining mess in the kitchen. The cabinets needed to be cleaned out to store the utensils and the rest of the counters needed to be wiped. “Have no worries because I’ll be cleaning out this house for at least the next few weeks.”

“Sounds like a plan for you.” he grinned. “And I’ll be watching every second of it.” His eyes flitted down to my chest for a split second.

How was I supposed to do anything with this guy around?

Notes:

Sorry for the short chapter. It's hard to come up with 2000 words of content every chapter. I'm also neglecting like three other ongoing fanfics I have so my brain is fried LOL.
Imma include a link to the fanfiction mentioned in this chapter over here. https://www.tumblr.com/wendichester/771011332839522305/not-sure-if-you-take-requests-or-suggestions-but-i
Yall should definitely read it. It'll open up a whole new world. I only started hating Anna for sleeping with Dean in the Impala after reading this LMAO. Also that scene was completely unnecessary? I'm a jealous woman, I know, and I'm sorry. But I did skip like four seasons of House MD cause Chase got married to that female doctor (I forgot her name), so yeah.

Chapter 4: Good Years

Notes:

This turned out to be so damn long. T_T. If there are any inconsistencies do let me know. The words just kind of flowed out today. Must be that organic chemistry lecture I had open in the background lmao. I can't write unless I'm under stress.
I was gonna do so much more for the romance with Dean but this chapter format just made sense in a way. I might add a few extra chapters here and there to show the progress in their relationship.
I'm actually thinking of turning this into a series. Keep this as Prologue or Prequel and then continue on with season 1 of the show. We'll see what happens, but if you guys have any opinions on that do lmk.

Gaining trust with the Hunters wasn’t easy. It took over a month to convince them to let me even stay in a room alone.

“I can do the dishes while you vacuum the bedrooms.” I told Sam.

“Please don’t break a plate.”

 

And then a couple more to convince them to let me join them for grocery shopping.

“Broccoli?” The men looked in horror at the sight of the green item in my basket.

I shrugged. “It’s healthy. And tastes good if you bake it right.”

 

The only reason I’d even been allowed to get my GED was because Dean was taking the exam with me in the same room.

“You really spent the whole time provided in the classroom.” Dean groaned. “You were done before most of the others were, so why did you stay the whole time?”

“There’s a reason why that much time is given, and damn right I’m gonna use all of it.”

 

Another few months later, I’d been allowed to go shopping alone without Bobby’s eyes plastered to the floor while I scoured the undergarments section.

“How many pairs of underwear does a woman even need?”

I kept dumping my new underwear and pads onto the couch I’d pretty much claimed as my own. “Keep enjoying your book Bobby.” I didn’t need to look at him to know he had turned around in his chair with bright red ears.

 

In October as my birthday approached, ten eventful months after my landing here, I was allowed to have a job.

“There’s a new bar down the road.” John said one night. “They said they’re hiring waitresses.” He slid the fake ID he’d made for me to get my GED in my direction. “That should get you in.”

I gripped the thin piece of plastic and lifted it up to the light. It looked real. I could finally be my own person in this world. I smiled. “Thanks.”

 

But the thing that really showed their trust in me was when I was given my very own bedroom. That too for December. It was a Christmas gift.

“Is that a new bedsheet?” I looked up at John as he gingerly handed me an overly floral pink and purple bedsheet set, still in its packaging. “I don’t think I can use that on the couch though.”

“Come on up, kid.” Bobby gestured up the stairs. I couldn’t believe it. But I tried not to get my hopes up too high. There was no way they were willing to give me a bedroom. And yet, here it was, complete with a bunk bed and a closet, two empty shelves and a table along with a chair.

The men had tried. They really had. The paint job itself was phenomenal. The color choices were questionable though, with a bright pink ceiling and baby blue walls, but it was better than the yellowed worn out couch. But it was the thought that counted. And it meant that they considered me family. I felt like crying.

“The… the colours good?” Bobby asked hesitantly. “If they’re bad enough to make you cry we can change them–”

“No, they’re lovely.” I swiped at my face. Damn tears. “I love it.” Bobby must have picked the colours.

“The walls took too long to paint.” Dean grinned from the doorway.

“I did the ceiling.” Sam added. He was a couple inches shy of Dean now. Dean refused to admit that Sam was going to keep growing, but Sam was obviously going to shoot past him in a few more months. “Dad picked out the bedsheets and stuff.”

“Mary liked that stuff.” John smiled wistfully at the floral print.

“So, welcome to the family.” Dean, ever the extrovert, held out his arms.

 

Then in January. Exactly a year after I’d landed in this place, I was taken hunting for the first time.

“Dad said it’s a simple salt and burn.” Dean said from the passenger seat. It was one of Bobby’s barely functioning cars.

“I still don’t get why you get shotgun.” Sam mumbled.

“Because. Someone needs to read the map that she can’t. Question is. Why’s a woman driving?”

“Because I’ve been driving much longer than you have.”

“Right…”

“I commuted 10 miles each way to and from college everyday for two years I’ll have you know. I have more miles than you can even dream of.”

“Ever been on a long drive?” Dean challenged.

“Every three months.” I smirked. “I drove six hours straight once. Stopped only for gas and bathroom breaks.” I looked at Sam dosing off through the rearview mirror. “You can take a nap Sammy. It’s six more hours away.” Sam hummed before sliding completely flat in the backseat, his legs bunched up as he moved into a somewhat sleeping position. I glanced at Dean glaring at the map. “You can sleep too, you know.”

“And leave you to crash the car? No thanks.” He folded the map. “Why can’t we just buy a GPS.” He grumbled.

“Dunno. Driving without a GPS ain’t so bad.” I stepped on the accelerator a little harder. “By the way…” I glanced at the road we just crossed. The name of it seemed familiar. “When do we take that right again?”

“You just passed it… Damn it! I’m never letting a chick drive again.”

 

Then came the fateful day of Sam picking out which colleges to apply for. Sam, Dean, and I were huddled over a computer in the library, opening up website after website.

“Here are the brochures you wanted.” a librarian handed Dean a stack. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She winked at Dean before walking away with her hips swaying way too much to be just a style of walking.

Dean nodded in appreciation before leaning back against the chair Sam was sitting on. He caught me watching and winked. “Ain’t leaving you for her, sweetheart.”

Yeah, somewhere down the road, Dean had managed to wiggle into my heart. It had started with light brushes against my arm, and then full on hands on waist at a bar. Strangely enough, our relationship was progressing not in an omigosh-he’s-so-hot way but an actual i-see-a-future-with-him way. Though I doubted it would last long. He had already slept with Lisa four years back while on a hunt. As far as I was aware, he still had her number. And until he figured out that part of his life, I refused to let our relationship progress.

“Don’t try to get in a woman’s pants while we’re applying for colleges.” Sam muttered. “And don’t flirt with each other in front of me.” His fingers banged away at the keyboard, hitting ctrl+P every time he opened up an application page.

“What are your top choices?” I asked.

“I kind of liked Stanford.” Sam grinned. “They have a good pre-law program.” Stanford… I chewed the inside of my mouth. That wasn’t going to go too well.

“Law? You wanna study law?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “You wanna go to school for 8 more years? Nerd.”

“Don’t make fun of him Dean.” I jammed my foot into his shin. It barely even made him flinch. It almost bothered me how my hits had no effect on the boys anymore. Back then I could have held my own against them. But now… they’d gotten larger and beefier, and I could barely even scratch a hair against their head without having an arm and leg broken off.

“Yeah, I’m 18 years old. I think I know what I want to do with my life.”  Sam shook his head and went back to looking up applications.

“We should look into some other colleges too.” I quickly shuffled through the stack of papers on the table. “What about Harvard?”

“It felt more like a business school when I read about it. I’ll still apply, but… I don’t think I actually want to go there.”

“That’s… fair.” What other school could I convince him to get into? “Have you thought about UCLA? California is a great place to live.”

“Sharon.” Sam laughed. “I already have a list– I appreciate you willing to help me apply, but–” he finally turned around. There must have been fear in my eyes, because he quickly realised. “You don’t want me to go to Stanford.”

“It’s not that exactly–” I looked at Dean for help. But of course, he had nothing better to say than me. “You should go wherever you want, but– Stanford isn’t the best option for you. Believe me.”

“Can you… tell me why…?” Sam asked softly.

“You–” No. I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t. I shook my head. Jessica. Sam would love Jessica. They were obviously meant for each other. Maybe Sam would never find a woman he loved so much that he would pop the question in two years. But the heartbreak, the pain– I couldn’t put Sam through that. Not the sweet little boy who followed me everywhere.

Dean’s hand found my shoulder and he rubbed it in a soothing motion. “It’s okay,” he reminded me. “We’re all okay.”

I nodded. “Yeah.” there was a lump in my throat.

“If it’s that bad, then I won’t apply.” Sam said gently. “I won’t go to Stanford.”

“I don’t want to ruin your dreams Sam.” I forced myself to look into his light brown eyes. “I meant it when I said you should do what you want.”

“But if I go there, then something bad will happen.” Sam gave me a bitter smile. “And if it’s gotten you of all people so riled up, then– I guess I won’t.”

He looked sad. So sad. I looked at Dean for help. He just raised his hands in defeat.

“So should I start filling out the forms? They should have printed by now.” His chair scraped the floor as Sam stood up, his large frame walking over to the printers.

“Dean.” I whispered. “I think I ruined his excitement.”

“You must have said that for a good reason. And I’m sure he knows.” he patted my hand.

“But–” I looked back at Sam’s hunched shoulders. “Look at him. It’s like I drained the life out of the kid.”

“Hey, it’s for the best.” He looked up as Sam approached us again.

“So.” he dropped the stack of applications onto the table in front of us. “Mind helping me with filling these out?”

“I can do the checkboxes.” I offered.

“I can forge Dad’s signature.”

“I’m an adult, Dean, I don’t need that.”

“I can… forge your signature?”

“I can sign my own papers thank you.”

“Then I can… um… I don’t know. Provide moral support? Or I can grab us a beer.”

“Why don’t you fill out the routine stuff like name, birthday, or whatever.” I handed him a pen.

Dean playfully glared at me but got to work anyway.

A few hours later, we were still filling out forms.

“You sure you wanna stay and finish this?” I looked at the applications Sam was still filling out. “One of us can stay and help you finish, you know.”

“No, no. It's fine.” Sam made a ‘shoo’ motion with his free hand. “You guys have fun with lunch. And don’t make me an uncle.” This kid–

“We’ll make sure you’re the uncle to at least three kids.” Dean cackled as he led me away.

“You two idiots.” I slapped his arm.

 

And despite my insistence on Sam not going to Stanford, three months later, there it was. A letter from Stanford. I punched Sam’s number into my cell phone and held it close to my ear.

“Sammy what the hell?”

“What?” he sounded confused.

“Why’s there a letter from Stanford? With a full ride ?”

“I–I didn’t apply. But wait– I got in?” He sounded overjoyed. “Sharon, this must be destiny or something! It means I have to go right? And the thing that you’re scared about– what if it never happens– Sharon this is big news!”

Then who did? There was only one person who could break into the library and forge Sam’s handwriting better than John. And I knew John wouldn’t apply to colleges for Sam. “Ask Dean to come to the phone.”

I heard rustling and the yelling of Dean’s name. A second later, it was the older Winchester brother on the phone. “Why did you apply to Stanford for him?”

“Did you see the kid that day?”

“I know. But why ?” I felt light headed. It was 2001. Sam would meet Jessica in two years. And then everything would go up in flames, literally in another two years. “This isn’t good.”

“We’ll- we’ll keep in touch with Sam. Make sure nothing happens.”

Yeah, but the fight with John was likely to happen. And then Sam would cut everyone out. And then we would be screwed. It was like Fate was forcing this to happen. But I couldn’t make myself say any of that out loud. “Then keep in touch with him. Don’t. No matter what. Don’t let anything happen to him. Please.”

“Of course sweetheart. Of course. Nothing will happen. Alright?”

“Yeah.” Sure. Hopefully, nothing would happen.

“We’ll come over as soon as this case is over. And uh… keep an eye out for a scholarship too–”

“You applied for a scholarship too?!” I gripped the edge of the table to stay upright. This was a mess. Who let Dean be in control.

“Yeah, I mean. My brother is going to college. Might as well make it free. Dad’ll probably be less mad about it.” Dean sounded excited too. They had no idea. They had no idea of what was coming. And I couldn’t say anything. But hopefully. Just hopefully, he wouldn’t meet Jessica, right?

 

After Sam left with Bobby to go to the airport for Stanford, I was with John and Dean at the bar I was working at after closing. They’d celebrated the whole time it was open. John hadn’t been too pleased about Sam’s decision, especially after hearing how I was against it, but no one could say no to his puppy dog eyes.

“Close up shop when you guys are done.” the manager grinned and tossed me the keys. I jumped out of the way out of instinct and they clattered noisily to the floor.

“I found a few leads.” John said once the manager had left. “The demon that killed Mary… I think I finally have enough on him to pursue him.”

“That’s great news!” Dean sat up straighter immediately.

“I don’t want you kids coming after it.” John said slowly.

“Dad.” Dean laughed incredulously. “I’m 22. So is Sharon. I think we’re old enough to join you on this hunt.” he looked at me for confirmation.

I had nothing to say.

“There’s a reason I’m bringing this up now. Now that Sam isn’t here.” John cleared his throat. “You two will follow what I have to say.” John was in commander mode.

“Yes sir.” Dean and I chimed.

“Do not. Pursue. This demon.”

“But dad–”

“Listen to me son. You don’t know what this demon is capable of. Alright? You stay out of my way. Its way. It’s smart. And dangerous. I don’t want you kids getting hurt.” He finished his glass and handed it to me. I started rinsing it. “I’m going to kill this thing. I promise. Even if it’s the last thing I do.” And damn right he would.

“Yes sir.” Dean replied. I kept my head down and continued wiping the last glass.

“I’ll be gone for a while.” John fixed his jacket and stepped outside. “Also Dean?” he threw a pair of keys to Dean who caught them swiftly. “The Impala’s yours.”

Dean stared at the keys in his hands and looked back at the door John had just walked out. “Seriously?” He looked towards me. “I’m not dreaming right?”

I shook my head. “Baby’s yours.” I couldn’t help but smile at Dean’s overjoyed grin.

“Oh sweet !” Dean practically bounded out the door to Baby. “Join me for a ride, sweetheart!” he waved the keys in the air.

“Coming!” I grabbed my bags, slammed the shutters shut, checked everything one last time, and locked the door behind me.

“Here.” Dean was already standing next to the passenger side with the door open.

“Oh, I’m driving?” I teasingly walked towards the driver's side.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dean was immediately reaching out to pull me back. “Nuh-uh, sweetheart. As much as I like you, I’m not letting you drive.” He held my bag as I slid into the Impala’s black leather seats. She was sweet. Comfortable. The seats were slightly sinking from age, but still firm.

Dean came around to the driver’s side and tossed my bag into the backseat.

“Hey!” I turned around to make sure it didn’t land on the floor. I turned to glare at the man next to me. “As much as I like you, I’m not letting you throw my things around.”

My breath hitched when I settled back down. His green eyes stared right back at me. “You said you liked me?”

“Maybe.” Yeah. I did like him. Seeing his womanising tendencies in real life put me off the first few times, but then I’d learned to look past it. He was strong, gentle, and kinder than anyone I’d ever met in my whole life.

“No need to be embarrassed about it.” His hand reached out to hover by my waist, as if asking for permission. I sidled closer. My heart felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. But. could I trust this man with his record of one night-stands. “You know I haven’t been with a woman in the past year.”

“I know. Sam told me.”

“He talks to you a lot?”

“Everyday.”

“You don’t talk to me everyday.” his hand finally landed on my waist. With the other, he braced himself against the seat of the impala.

“W-we can change that.” I could feel his breath on my face. A little more and our lips would touch.

“Then… May I?” His eyes flitted to my lips.

I brought my hand to his collar and pulled slightly.

His lips finally met mine. They were soft. I should have used a chapstick before this. Was I supposed to close my eyes now? How did you breathe in a kiss? What was I supposed to do with my hands?

Dean pulled away a little. “This your first kiss?” He looked at me with furrowed brows.

Was it that bad? “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” he pulled me closer again, this time with a little more force, our chests pressed against each other, one hand on my waist, and the other in my hair.

“Through your nose sweetheart.” he whispered against my lips. “Close your eyes.” I followed his instructions. His hand in my hair tilted my head slightly to the side. I draped my hands over his shoulders. It seemed like the right place for them to go.

He was gentle and slow. When his tongue hit my lips, I knew what he wanted. I’d read enough romances to know that I should open my mouth. What no one had ever written was that it was less of a fight for dominance with tongues but more of a heated exploration with tongues. It felt like he was gaining access to every inch of me. And it scared me.

“Mm.” I slammed my fist against his chest. He quickly stopped, pulling away.

“Sorry. That was uh…”

“Good.” I could feel the heat in my cheeks and my neck. “I don’t mind. It was just– new.” Did this mean we were dating now? “Is this going to be a regular thing?” The car roared to life.

“If you want it to be.” He put the car in reverse.

“I don’t plan on dating without marriage in mind.”

“With you, I think I can settle.” He flashed me that dazzling smile of his. “That is, if you’re fine with this kind of life.”

I could have turned into a blushing gooey mess right there. “Too late for that.” I rolled down the window of the Impala. I closed my eyes as the wind blew my hair. Things were going to go to Hell in a few more years, but I might as well enjoy the few good ones we had left.

Notes:

Also just got to Season 7, and the first episode itself is giving me anxiety. Like wtf happened with Death and Castiel and whatnot. And that poor couple that had to watch everything bruh. You know what would solve most of the show's problems? Communication. But noooo ofc not that would be too easy.

Chapter 5: Pilot Part I

Summary:

Because it is starting my dear. It all starts today. Your tragedy.

October 29th 2005,

A sharp knock on the door pulled me from my latest art project. Who in the world was knocking at 1:00AM?

“I’ll get the door.” Bobby sighed and waded through the piles of discarded colored paper on the floor. I would have to clean that up before someone tripped or threw them away.

“Thanks Bobby,” I squinted at the stupid circle I was trying to cut out.

“Dean.” Bobby said from the door.

“Hey,” I glanced at the incoming man at the door before going back to my circle.

“What the hell is all this?” Dean grumbled. “Great, now I have flowers stuck under my shoe.”

“You stepped on my flowers?! Do you have any idea how long it took to make them?”

“Goddammit woman, then don’t leave them lying around!”

“Who comes knocking at the door at 1:00 in the morning?!”

“Who does arts and crafts at 1:00 in the morning!”

“Alright. Why don’t you two stop arguing for one second. Dean, what brings you here?” Bobby stepped aside to let Dean through.

Then came the words that started the whole mess that was Supernatural. “Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

No. No way. It was happening.

“Well shucks kid. Maybe something unexpected happened. Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks Bobby.” Dean sat down opposite my chair.

“Don’t touch anything.” I warned.

“Yeah, yeah.” he drawled. “What’re you making sweetheart?”

“Posters for the classroom.”

“You still bartending?”

“On occasion when someone calls in.”

Things were silent for a bit as Bobby and Dean inhaled their beer.

“Why’re you here?” ‘Instead of Stanford’ remained stuck in my throat.

“I thought you could help me find Dad. I’m gonna grab Sam too. If something is going to happen, then we should all be together. This is when everything starts right?”

I couldn’t answer, so I just stuck a flower on the trifold.

“Since you have a pretty good idea of what happens. I thought you could help.”

“It’s not like she can talk about it. Why drag her into your mess?” Bobby swirled his bottle of beer.

“Because! If something is gonna happen I would much rather we all stay together and look out for each other.”

“That makes no sense. She can’t do anything that goes against what happens in this world. She tried to prevent Sam from going to Stanford, and look where that got us. You got us here.”

“Look, hey. I just wanted Sam to have a good life for a little bit, alright? And if something is going to happen to him at Stanford, then we just have to drag him out. Am I right?”

Again, I couldn’t say anything. Yes, something bad happened to him at Stanford, but him being away wasn’t going to change anything. He had to be in the room when Jessica died if he wanted to even have a chance at saving her. All those words never managed to escape from my mouth. It was frustrating.

“I don’t think I can help.” I said.

“Oh, come on. Mental support and all that.”

“Dean, I have a job .”

“Say it’s a family emergency. Which it is.”

“That’s it. I’m going to bed. You kids sort this out.” Bobby slammed his empty bottle on the table before picking his way out of the mess on the floor. “Let me know if you stay or not. I’m gonna catch a few hours.”

“Sounds good, Bobby. Good night.” I waved him away.

“Night Bobby,” Dean chimed after me. “Okay, so. Just come with me, alright? It’s the weekend. And it’s a long weekend. You can be back on Wednesday–”

“Classes start on Tuesday.” I corrected.

“Right. That. But Sharon– I don’t wanna face Sam by myself. I mean he’s pretty pissed right now.

“He’s upset at me too.” I pointed out.

“That’s cause you told him to break up with the girl of his dreams.” Dean scoffed. “I would be pissed if someone told me that too.”

“You don’t understand.” I sighed. But it wasn’t like I could make him understand either.

“It’s fine.” Dean shrugged. “He’s just being a little hormonal teenager right now.”

“He’s 22 Dean.”

“Is he now?” He seemed almost surprised. “I’ll be damned.”

“He did grow like a weed.” I smiled to myself.

“Well, he’s still hormonal.” Dean leaned back against his chair, stretching his arms over his head. His shirt pulled taut against his muscles and I found myself enjoying the view.

“Enjoying the view?” Dean smirked and leaned back forward on the table. He watched me glue a few more things together before speaking again. “So, uh. Are you coming?”

I paused in my project. Maybe, just maybe. We could change things. I was here now. Maybe I could save Jessica. Maybe I could give all of us a good ending. It wouldn’t be all happy, but we could all live. Maybe. “Sure, let me pack a bag. And put in a letter of resignation.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Resignation?” Dean stared at me with wide eyes. “You land the job of your dreams and now you want to resign ? You know we’re only looking for Dad right?”

“You’re the one who invited me to join you. And let me tell you, I enjoyed the show a lot .” Hopefully he would get the hint. He did get the hint. He nodded. “I’ll tell Bobby and open up Baby.”

“Alright.”

“Hey Bobby!” Dean yelled.

I rolled my eyes as Bobby stomped out of the master bedroom and the two launched into a yelling match. Packing my bags didn’t take long.

Seven sets of undergarments, seven sets of tops, seven sets of jeans, and skirts… and a couple of good dresses.

“Don’t forget to pack a suit!” Dean yelled.

Oh damn. This was gonna be one huge bag. I grinned. I’d been waiting to break out that new black suitcase since forever.

 

31st October 2005,

“We’re really gonna do this?” I looked up at the student apartments right by Stanford. “We don’t even need Sam for this.”

“I… I kind of want to do this as a family. I don’t think I can do this with just you.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Not that sweetheart. It’s just that… uh… he’s been in this his… whole life… and you kind of just… plopped in randomly.”

His comment almost stung a little. The silver wedding band on my left ring finger felt like it was digging into my skin, even though it wasn’t. Dean had measured my finger in my sleep at some point and melted a silver round into the perfect sized ring. The moonlight hit his matching ring as he opened the door to the Impala and headed for Sam’s unit.

I stayed in the car, trying to figure out what to do. We needed to save Jessica. But how. Dean refused to go without Sam. He wanted his family back together. And if Sam wasn’t here to get Jessica out when Azazel hit then we were screwed. But I knew how long it would take for this case to finish and Jessica would be long dead before we got back. I leaned against the black leather seats. It was going to be okay. Sam and Dean were going to be okay. And I would be okay too. It was just a simple case. Woman in white commits suicide haunts everything and once she makes amends with her children we would be good. But Jessica wouldn’t be. My head hurt. Wait, what if I stayed with Jessica instead? Wouldn’t that save her?

Miss me?

I jolted upright. It was the angel that had dragged me into all of this.

You seem to have quite the situation on your hands.

Yeah, no kidding. It was already hitting the fan. Now why was this angel talking to me again?

Just here to remind you of your purpose. Set things right. Save all those souls who died because the Winchesters were too focused on their own issues.

Yeah. Like Jo and Ellen. They both didn't need to die. Neither did Jessica.

You’ve passed the point of saving Jessica.

What?

No matter what you do, Jessica Moore will not survive.

What? Why? I had a chance to save her. I just needed to stay with her and get her out of that apartment before anything happened to her. Shoot Azazel or something!

She will die no matter what. Azazel has his eyes on her. She’ll die if she even tries to use the bathroom. They will make sure of it.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyelids. I needed this to make sense. So Jessica was going to die no matter what. I should have stopped Sam from going to Stanford. Stopped him from getting to know Jessica. Stopped all of this– This was all my fault–

You haven’t considered one other option.

Other option? I thought long and hard. What other option did I have?

Think.

Okay, so why in the world was this guy– no, girl– but they/them?– whatever– even giving me options?

It’s fun to watch you struggle. Or so I am told.

Fun? Who was having fun with this? I felt fidgety. The world was starting to spin. My heartbeat was faster. I felt cold. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. But I had to.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. I blinked and tried to focus on my surroundings. The handle of the glovebox. It was good enough.

Slowly, my head stopped spinning and I could think again. The other option… I could stay with Jessica. Make sure she lived.

Bravo! Took you long enough!

Shut up. I told the voice in my head. Why did it even pop up after so long? And why now?

Because it is starting my dear. It all starts today. Your tragedy.

Notes:

It took way too long to come up with a suitable way to insert my girl into this. But it's here? I highly recommend checking out part two of the series to kind of understand how the relationship progresses. With the mess that is the Winchesters' lives starting from Season 1, I saw no opportunity for romance to actually bloom during the series. It's why I had to play around with the dates in the first chapter.

And I just got to Season 8. And I must add. (I am so sorry but) Dean Winchester being traumatised and exhausted is hot. I'm gonna go kms now. I'm sorry for existing.

Chapter 6: Pilot (The Woman In White) Part II

Summary:

My gun felt heavier around my waist every time I looked at the clock. It was ticking closer and closer to midnight. Closer to November 2, 2005.

My tragedy? What tragedy? Like my life wasn’t already tragic enough. But if that angel thing in my head suggested staying with Jessica… then was there the slightest chance that she could be saved?

…

I waited for an answer.

…

Nothing? Seriously? What the hell?

I nodded, steeling myself. I was going to figure this out myself. I opened the doors of the Impala and walked around to the back. I popped open the false bottom of the trunk and grabbed a bag of rocksalt, and a flask of holy water, along with prayer beads, throwing them into a duffel bag. I felt the belt around my waist. Good, my gun was still there. They wouldn’t kill Azazel but it would keep him down long enough for me to chant the spell, and get it sorted out. Azazel would be dead. Jessica would live. Sammy would be happy, so Dean would be happy. And then John and Dean could continue to save people. We would all be happy.

I covered the weapons with a couple of clothes, just enough to hide the questionable things underneath.

As I approached the door and grabbed the handle, it was forcefully swung open by Sam.

“What the hell?” Sam muttered.

“What’s with all the–” Dean spotted the gun I was carrying under my black leather jacket.

“Um, why is she here?” Sam’s words were like a knife. The way he looked at me with disdain felt like the knife was being twisted into me.

“Sam!” Dean admonished his brother. He turned to me. “I thought you were waiting in the car.”

“It might be best if I stayed.” I said looking at the floor. I couldn’t look Sam in the eye.

“I kind of wanted you with me while we looked.” Dean sounded frustrated.

I flinched. “Dean, Sam, please. It’s for the best. I know what I’m doing.”

“Then at least put those away.” Sam shook his head at the gun in my waistband.

“They’re for self defense.”

“From what ?” Sam scoffed. “I don’t exactly want to leave you of all people here with Jess.” He quickly glanced around and dropped his voice. “You wanted me to break up with her. I trusted you. I thought you wanted me to have a normal life.” He was seething. And rightfully so. I would be mad too if someone just waltzed into my seemingly perfect life and told me to break up with the love of my life.

“I’m sorry. But I’m here to make up for it.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” Sam snorted.

“Sam. You know she knows everything that’s going to happen–” Dean tried to defend me again.

“And she can’t even tell us anything.” Sam dropped his hands in exasperation. “Fine. Stay here. But if anything happens to Jess, I will hunt you down.”

Dean stepped in between us. “You want to hunt her? You’ll have to go through me Sam. She wasn’t the one who walked out on family. It was you.”

“Please don’t fight with each other.” I tugged Dean away from Sam.

“Sam? Is everything okay?” Jessica asked from top of the stairs. She was peeking out of their apartment.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine.” Sam fixed me with a glare. “This is Dean’s wife, Sharon. Sharon’s going to be staying here while Dean and I go look for our Dad. because the apartment will be empty, and it’s not safe for a young woman to be alone.” He pressed his lips into a smile for Jessica. “Call me if anything happens. Anything, Jess.”

“Of course, baby.”

He and Jessica met halfway on the stairs and took a long deep kiss. Dean watched on, amused by the display.

“We could have our own kiss.” Dean spun me around and knelt down for a quick kiss. It was really quick. I didn’t even have time to wrap my arms around him. But this might be the last time I could ever kiss the man. If what I had in mind failed, then this would be the last time we saw each other.

I grabbed the collar of his flannel and pulled him down. He made a small sound of surprise but leaned in, his tongue meeting mine this time.

Sam clearing his throat made Dean straighten up with a roll of his eyes. I clung onto the sleeve of his jacket a little while longer.

“Take care Sam. And it was nice to meet you Dean.” Jessica waved with a smile. “Come on up, Sharon.” She gestured into hers and Sam’s apartment.

I dragged my duffel bag up the stairs, thanking Jessica as she held the door open. She was beautiful. And tall. Standing at least at 5’11” and nearly 6’. I looked tiny next to her. Her curly golden hair was the opposite of my straight black hair, and her legs and arms were clean shaven. Not even the hint of a mustache on her pale face.

“Something on my face?” She asked.

“Oh no. It’s just that– You’re so beautiful.”

She laughed. God, even her laughter was heavenly. “Why thank you!” She shuffled around a bit before gesturing towards the bed. “You can have the bed.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly.” I dropped my bag on the couch. “You might be more comfortable on the bed than on the couch.” considering she was nearly as tall as Dean.

She gave me a small smile before settling back into the bed. “So. Sharon, right?”

“Yeah.” How did you have a conversation again? “Um. I’m sorry to just… barge in.”

“Oh, no. It's alright. I understand.” She quickly said. “I’m assuming no one in the family wants to be alone… with Mr. Winchester missing.” She nodded her head. “I completely understand. So, please. Make yourself at home.”

I nodded. She was amazing. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She turned off the light by the desk and walked into the bedroom. I laid down on the couch and ran my fingers over my gun. Jessica. Sweet sweet Jessica. I had to keep her safe. I wouldn’t let her die. Not ever. Even if I myself died, I had to keep her alive. For Sam. Dean always said his happy ending was Sam having a life. A wife, kids, grandkids. Dean lived through Sam. And if Sam being happy made him happy, then it would make me happy too. Tears started falling and I wiped furiously at them. Damn my emotions.

Sleep didn’t come to me. I ended up staring at the popcorn ceiling of the apartment. It felt so… normal. The worn out leather of the couch reminded me of my family’s living room, where my brother and I would fight for the bigger couch. The lamp on the table next to the couch reminded me of my old night lamp that lit up with a touch, and at night if I touched it on accident my parents would come rushing, wondering what was wrong.

The alarm clock rang sharply at 6:00 AM. I sat up straight as Jessica stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her head. She pressed her lips together as her body lurched forwards just a little, but nothing left her mouth.

Typical signs of a hangover. I’d seen John, Dean, Bobby, and Sam do enough of that to know it by heart. Not to mention the drunks at the bar.

“Morning.” I said.

She jumped, whirling around to face me. “Oh,” she put a hand over her heart. “Sorry, I–”

“Rough night.” I flashed her what I hoped looked like a friendly smile. “Do you have something for it?”

“Yeah.” she nodded and reached for one of the many cabinets, pulling out a small bottle of pills. “Coffee?” She popped the pill in her mouth, swallowing it without any water. Not her first rodeo, clearly.

“Yes, please. I’m going to wash up.” I grabbed my duffel and headed for the bathroom. I grabbed onto the sink. I lifted my head to check my face in the mirror. Dammit. The mirror had been moved up by a couple of inches. I could only see till my chin if I took a step back. Damn tall people.

I ran my fingers over my face. My cheeks were dry, my lips were cracking, and there was a pimple forming right on my chin. Screw it.

“Feel free to borrow my sunscreen!” Jessica yelled.

“Thanks!” I yelled back. What a nice girl.

It would be terrible if something happened to her.

I jumped as the voice entered my head again.

Come now, don’t be so surprised. You have to be ready for tomorrow, don’t you?

Tomorrow. Nov 2, 2005. The day Jessica died.

Make it interesting, won’t you?

I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to do this.

I stepped out of the bathroom in a fresh pair of clothes, and wandered into the kitchen where Jessica was pouring out a second cup of coffee.

“Can I have five spoons of sugar?” I asked hesitantly.

She blinked in surprise but nodded. “Of course.”

I stirred the spoon in the coffee until most of the sugar was dissolved before sipping at it.

“So, um.” Jessica sat across from me at the dining table. She fiddled with her fingers, her eyes flickering from my wedding ring to her own empty left ring finger. “Sam told me that… you didn’t like me. And forgive me if I’m wrong, but… I got the opposite impression…?”

Oh god. He’d mentioned the fight to her. Of course he had. She was his lover, soon to be fiancee, and then wife. Until she burned of course. Until Azazel got to her.

“Sorry. It’s not that I don’t like you.” I answered truthfully. “You’re an amazing woman. And I can see that clearly. You two make each other happy.” Now for the lies. “It’s just that– back then I didn’t know what kind of a person you were– And– he’s my baby brother too. I can’t help but worry about him. But I now see I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Really, I was sorry.

Jessica smiled. “It’s alright. I know what it’s like to watch your brother trust a complete stranger. Sam told me that you guys knew each other for almost eight years.”

“Yeah. Eight long years.”

Her manicured nails tapped against her coffee mug. “I’m glad to hear that you don’t hate me.” She brought her head down to her hands in relief and laughed. “I don’t exactly want to be on the wrong side of his family.”

“Oh, no. I completely understand.” I grasped her hand. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

 

I’d forgotten what it was like to be with a woman around my age. Always being surrounded by traumatised men nearly made me forget the excitement of having your nails done by someone else. Jessica gave me a full on homemade manicure. I helped her pick out a dress for the day. We watched garbage soaps where there were too many plot twists. We even went out shopping, stopping at antique stores and looking at jewellery. We did pretty much nothing productive. Until Jessica came up with the idea of baking cookies.

“Want cookies?”

“It’s 11:30 PM.”

“And?”

“Good point. We have all the ingredients?” I asked.

“Yep.” She was flitting about the cupboards, pulling out pots and pans from the top shelf. “The chocolate chips are on the bottom shelf.”

I nodded and placed them on the counter. She and I looked at each other before both reaching into the container and munching on the chocolate chips.

“Chocolate forever.” I raised the container in a gesture of cheers.

“To chocolate.” She went along with my joke and reached in for another fistful. I liked her. I would love to have her as a sister in law. My gun felt heavier around my waist every time I looked at the clock. It was ticking closer and closer to midnight. Closer to November 2, 2005.

My phone rang all of a sudden. I checked the caller ID. ‘Dean Winchester’

“Hey,” I said into the phone.

“Everything alright?” he asked. He sounded like he was still getting into the car.

“Yeah.” But in another 15 minutes, it wouldn’t be. “How long till you get here?”

“Give us like– 30 minutes.”

“Could you drive faster?” I asked.

“Uh– yeah sure.” The door to the Impala was closed shut, followed by another door slam. “Is Sam okay? Are you two okay?”

“Yeah. We’re fine. Sammy’s just got his panties in a twist because his interview is tomorrow.”

I looked at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. He’s not gonna get enough sleep. Get him here fast.”

His voice grew worried. “Sweetheart. Are you sure you guys are okay?” Baby revved to life and I heard her tires screeching as Dean got onto the road with her.

“We’re still fine.” My hands were going cold, and clammy. I felt shivers go down my spine. We were so close. So close.

“Put Jessica on the phone. Lover boy wants to talk to her.”

“Yeah.” I handed Jessica the phone. “Sam wants to talk.” Hopefully she didn’t notice the shakiness or the coldness of my hands.

The two launched into a conversation. Jessica’s face lit up every time Sam spoke on the other end of the line. She looked so happy.

The clock continued ticking.

3 minutes till the fated time.

Why was he here again?

Here to teach you something.

Teach me what?

You’ll know when the time comes.

…

Two minutes now, darling. Get ready.

Salt. I needed salt. I grabbed the rocksalt from my duffel bag and started lining the doors and windows.

“Sharon? What are you doing?”

She was still on the phone.

30 seconds.

Okay, salt done. Shotgun. Pistol in my belt.

“Sharon? Is that a gun? What are you–”

“Stay back, Jessica.”

3… 2… 1.

Notes:

Halfway through Season 8. All I can say is that I know why Dean and Sam are so hot. With grandpas like that, how could they not be? Henry Winchester was fire. And if Samuel Campbell can have pecs that good even as an old man, imagine him when he was young. Like y'all. These Winchesters are fine af.

Chapter 7: Pilot (The Woman in White) Part III

Summary:

Whose legs looked prettier in heels and a mini skirt didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter who wore makeup and wore it better. We had both been reduced to crying messes with our stomachs ripped open and slowly being dragged up the wall.

Thunder roared outside. The wind rattled against the windows. The whole house shook from its foundations.

Jessica was stumped. “Put the phone on speaker!” I told her.

“Sharon! What the hell is happening?!” Dean yelled from the phone.

“Dean! I need you to drive a little bit faster!” I yelled. “He’s here!”

“He? Who’s he?!” Sam yelled.

Too much yelling. My head hurt. I cocked the shotgun in my hands and waited for him to strike. The windows shattered, and the salt line was broken by the winds.

Well, shit .

I backed up against Jessica who was completely frozen in place.

“Do you have more salt?” I asked her.

“Y-yeah–”

“Good, make a circle. Stand in it. And don’t leave it.”

“Do what she says, Jess.” Sam said from the phone. I heard her rattling about the counters and sifting a salt ring.

“What the hell?” Jessica finally seemed to have found her voice.

“He’s a bad guy. Wants to kill you. Stay in that circle.”

I tried to calm my breathing. Sweat was starting to make my palms slippery. I could barely keep my grip on the trigger.

A flash of lightning blinded us.

Jessica shrieked.

“Why hello there.” Azazel hummed. He was in the body of a middle aged man. His eyes glowed bright yellow. “It’s been a while, Jessica.” He smiled.

I raised the gun to his chest level. He was still on the other side of the kitchen and living room combined. I took my aim.

Shoot. With a bang, a bullet buried itself in Azazel’s chest, right where his heart was.

“Tsk, tsk.” he clicked his tongue. I readied the shotgun again. “I know about you too, Sharon. How does it feel to be in the world you were meant to be in?”

“Sharon?!” “Jess!” the brothers yelled from the phone.

“I suppose I’ll kill you both.” Azazel cackled.

Oh hell no. I shot him again. He didn’t even flinch.

The phone connection started cutting out. Static filled the room, overpowering the howl of the winds outside.

Another shot. Azazel closed his eyes, looking like a parent tired of telling his children to shut up.

“Really now… This is starting to bother me. But no worries. I’ll take my time with you. You two can be sisters in the afterlife.” he took a step forward. But the next one, he couldn’t take.

Bullseye.

“What–” he looked down at the rug he was standing on. He grabbed onto it and pulled it up, revealing the edges of a “Devil’s trap?” he sounded angry. But he couldn’t leave. “You know your homework, girl. But a Devil’s Trap isn’t going to be enough.”

Jessica screamed as she was flung into the wall.

Shit shit shit!

“Your turn.”

Before I knew it, I was thrown through the door. I couldn’t help but scream as my back broke the door. I was on the floor, right next to the staircase.

“I’ll come back to Sammy’s woman in a bit.” Azazel smirked. “I’m not done with you.”

Like hell he was gonna kill either of us. I started chanting.

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo,

psallite Domino
qui fertis super caelum
caeli ad Orientem
Ecce dabit voci Suae–”

I wasn’t even done with the first verse before I was thrown down the stairs.

Another scream ripped through me. But worse than that was Jessica’s shrieks of absolute terror.

I took deep breaths. Up the stairs. As fast as possible. I shot Azazel again who grunted as his psychic grip on Jessica dissipated. I grabbed her and dragged her behind me. I forced her down the stairs in front of me. Only to be met with Azazel standing at the doorway.

“You should get your plumbing checked,” he laughed.

Fuck. I put myself between Jessica and the demon.

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo,

psallite Domino
qui fertis super cael–”

Jessica and I both screamed as we were slammed onto opposite walls. It hurt. It burned. Something was tearing me apart. And I didn’t need to look down to know what was happening to me. Jessica was a perfect mirror of my situation in her beautiful bloody white gown.

Whose legs looked prettier in heels and a mini skirt didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter who wore makeup and wore it better. We had both been reduced to crying messes with our stomachs ripped open and slowly being dragged up the wall.

No. No. No! I didn’t want to die like this. I didn’t want Jessica to die like this.

Dream. Imagine. Fling him to the side.

The fuck? This is when he decides to start talking?!

You want to live? Yes or no?

Yes. I wanted to live. I wanted Jessica to live.

Then think! Use that monkey brain of yours for something useful.

Okay. Think. Imagine. I could imagine a lot of things. And flinging Azazel outside in my head couldn’t be that hard.

“I– I don’t want to die, please!” Jessica sobbed.

“OUT! AZAZEL!” I yelled. And out went Azazel through the door.

Good girl.

The thing holding us up against the wall vanished. I could barely feel myself hitting the floor. Everything hurt. And I had no more tears left to cry… hah… that Ariana Grande song…

“This isn’t over!” Azazel snarled and the apartment burst into flames.

My vision was blurry. But there was no way I couldn’t see the fire eating through the wood, eating through me.

“SHARON!” “JESS!”

Dean. Sam.

“Dean.” I whispered.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m right here.” His voice was like heaven. I could finally relax. Sobs wracked my body as I weakly reached out for him. Dean, Dean, Dean…

He wrapped his arms around me. They were strong.

“It hurts.”

“I know, I’m sorry baby.”

I whimpered when he picked me up.

“We’re getting out of here sweetheart. Hang on.”

“Blood, Dean. I got blood–” I choked on my own blood. I watched it dribble down his jacket.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna get you to a hospital–”

“Jess…?”

“Sam’s got her. We’re all here. You did good.”

I could finally rest.

 

When I woke up, I was looking up at a white ceiling. And there was a mask over my mouth. Mask? I reached for it, but a hand pushed mine away. Who, or what, in the world?! I fought against it. What if it was chloroform? Or some other drug?

“Sharon, it’s me!”

Dean.

“Keep it on for me, sweetheart. It’s oxygen.”

Dean. I turned my head towards the source of his voice. My lips quivered and my eyes grew wet.

“Hey, hey, hey.” he gently held my face. “You’re safe. We’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”

“Jess?” my voice was hoarse and muffled through the mask.

“She’s okay.” Sam said. “She woke up a few hours ago.”

Good. Thank goodness. Everyone else looked good too.

“Her parents just flew in.” Sam continued. “They said they wanted to thank you by paying your hospital bills.”

What story had they cooked up? Sam smiled at the question in my eyes.

“So a burglar broke in. He thought the building was empty and that it would be an easy job. But then he saw you two so he attacked. Then he set fire to the house hoping the evidence of him coming in would be burned away. Dean and I were looking for our dad but I have a law school interview today so we hurried, and… we got in just in time to see the perpetrator run away. The evidence was successfully burned away, but we have an eyewitness account for the attack, and for the burglar, and you’re going to be the fourth one to confirm that story.”

Awesome. Leave it up to Sam to cook up the perfect excuse.

“I wanted to roll with an arsonist, not a burglar.” Dean chimed.

“That wouldn’t explain the wounds on both of them.” Sam pointed out. “And, um.” Sam looked at me nervously. “I thought I should apologise for being so… so cruel to you. You were just trying to keep Jess safe. And I– I thought I knew better than you. So, for that, I’m sorry.” He came over to the other side of the bed and held my hand in his. “I’m sorry Sharon. Seriously. Thank you.” I squeezed his hand in reassurance.

“Always listen to your elders, Sammy. Older brother and sister know best.” Dean said standing up. Sam gave a little scoff in response. “You two want coffee or something? Oh, I should probably get the nurse in here before that– NURSE!”

God he was loud.

“No yelling in the hospital!” Sam hissed.

Dean merely shrugged as the poor nurse came running in. She probably thought I was dying or something. But other than the pain I was fine. She assessed my breathing, decided I didn’t need the oxygen mask anymore and brought the bed into a sitting position. I held back a groan of pain as my body adjusted to the new sitting position. But I was doing pretty good. The nurse shot me up with another dose of painkillers and by the time she was gone, Dean was back with three cups of coffee precariously stacked on top of each other.

“Didn’t spill any,” he said proudly. “Five giant spoons of sugar for my lady,” I accepted the cup of coffee from Dean.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to him. I took a sip. The warm coffee soothed my throat.

“So let’s talk business.” Dean was in hunter mode. I knew it by the shift in his posture and tone. I straightened up a little more. “Something was thrown through the door. It was broken when Sam and I got there. What was it?”

“The demon.” I answered.

“Who, or what, flung it straight through? No offense, but uh… none of you ladies are strong enough to toss a demon out the door.”

“I did.”

Dean whistled. “Since when did you start weight training?”

“I didn’t Dean. I kind of… did it with my head.”

Sam and Dean both raised an eyebrow.

“Like– I thought about flinging him to the side. And then it just happened–”

“What? So you’re some kind of a freak?”

Dean’s words stung. ‘Freak’. Of course he thought I was one. If he could think of Sam as a ‘freak’, then of course he could think of me as one. But his words still hurt. I would be lucky if he didn’t just abandon me.

“Dean!” Sam scolded. “She saved Jessica. By the way she was worried about her, I can only assume that Jess was meant to– to die today,” Sam choked on the words. “And all you have to say is that she’s a ‘ freak ’?”

“I’m just saying it how I see it! And– and being a freak isn’t bad–”

“It’s fine.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I– I get it. If you two don’t want anything to do with me–”

“I never said that!”

“You called me a freak and I’m just supposed to roll with it?!”

“Then how else do you explain it!”

“I don’t know Dean! I don’t know! I have no idea what’s going on! There’s a voice in my head–”

Silence!

I hissed as the ringing in my head started.

I told you to never mention me!

“Sharon?” Dean’s hand was on my back. He sounded worried.

“What’s wrong?” Sam pried the coffee from my hands and I felt him patting my hand.

Keep your mouth shut .

And suddenly the ringing was gone.

“What do you mean by voice in your head?”

“Is it the demon?”

I was bombarded with questions by the brothers. None of which I could answer.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know.” I forced out. It seemed to be the only thing I could say. “I– I can’t talk about it.”

“Can’t?” Dean asked.

“Can’t.” I confirmed. “Like– I can’t say anything.”

Dean and Sam settled back down. The beeping of the million monitors was deafening.

“So–” My voice was rough. I cleared my throat. “So, how’s it going… with you and Jessica?” I asked Sam.

“I…” He looked down at his cup. “I told her everything. She’s… surprisingly still supportive of me.”

“She still want a life with you?” I asked gently.

He nodded. “I was gonna ask her to marry me when I got back, but– I don’t know if I want to bring her into this life.”

“You don’t Sammy.” Dean said softly. “You don’t. She can have a normal life. I know you want a normal life. But if this demon, the demon, is after you, then it’s hardly going to be anything but normal. It’s going to try to get you through her. Just like it did with Mom.”

Sam nodded. “That’s what I told her. She said she was willing to wait till this demon guy was dead. I don’t know– I like her so much, I–” he held his head in his hands. “I can’t do this to her.”

“She loves you, Sammy.” I ruffled his golden hair. “If she’s willing to wait… then let her wait. But if she wants to move on while you’re gone hunting the demon, then… I think you should let her. You two need to talk it out.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to her before we leave. We’re not staying here for any longer are we?”

“I’m good to go.” I confirmed.

“Then we need to find Dad. We need to tell him what happened.”

“Already did.” Dean sighed. “Went straight to voicemail. I don’t think he’s responding any time soon.” He dialed John’s number. It went to voicemail again.

“But if it’s here, then surely Dad must care.” Sam shook his head in frustration. “Unless… he’s not okay. What if he needs help, Dean?”

“We’ll find him.” Dean said. “We’ll find him. We’ll just have to follow his tracks and we’ll find him. Then we can kill that son of a bitch together.”

They would kill Azazel together, but John would die in that fight. How was I supposed to say that?

You don’t .

I jumped.

“Everything okay?” Dean looked up with alarm.

“Yeah– yeah, I’m fine–”

I didn’t think you could save Jessica, but… you surprised me there. Keeping the Winchesters on the line was an unexpected but good idea…

“Voice in your head again?” Sam asked.

“We’re right here.” Dean added. His hand squeezed mine in a gesture of support.

Don’t listen to them. Listen to me. You’ve managed to harness your power once. You’ll have to do it again. Set things right. You’re the only one who can clean up their mess right now.

Right now? So there would be more people cleaning up their messes later? What?

…

I waited for an answer, but nothing. The voice in my head was gone.

“Sharon Winchester?” an officer knocked on the door.

I looked up at him. “Yeah,”

“Can we talk to you for a moment?”

Dean stood up and blocked the police from my view. “Now look here. It’s not exactly a good time. She’s still recovering from the encounter. You understand, don’t you?” He was almost threatening.

“Look, we were supposed to be here a long time ago. We’ve already been very lenient by coming in now, instead of earlier as soon as she woke up.”

Sam stood up too, and fixed the police officers with a glare. “I believe that she has the right to refuse talking to law enforcement.”

I hit the call light on the side of the bed. The nurse could probably talk this out. I loved hospitals. The nurses hated law enforcement and their relentless questioning of patients as much as the patients did. Well most of them anyway.

“And I believe that we have the right to talk to the victims to ensure that there are no others like them.” the officer retorted. He attempted to force his way through, but Dean held him back with just one hand.

“You don’t want to make this messy pal.” Dean’s voice had dropped an octave. Sam walked up next to him, backing his brother up.

The nurse came waltzing in with a smile plastered to her face. “Gentlemen. If you’re going to agitate my patient anymore then you can leave.”

“We’re with the county–”

“I don’t care. Our patients’ well being comes first. Thank you for your service.” She pretty much slammed the doors on the officers’ face.

Dean marvelled at the nurse who gave me a triumphant grin. “Everything okay sweetie?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I didn’t really want to talk to them just yet.”

“No problem honey.” she sang. She fiddled with my IV bag and checked the part where the needle was in my arm. “Everything else looks good. Let me know if you need anything else. You two be good to her now.” She smiled at the brothers and left the room, pulling it with just enough force behind her so that it closed silently.

“We need to get out of here.” Sam said quietly.

“Tell me about it.” I mumbled. “I’m gonna try and disconnect myself without making the things beep.”

“Knock on the room next door before you leave. I’m gonna go talk to Jessica for a bit. Clear things up.” Sam pressed his lips into a thin smile before walking out.

“I brought you a change of clothes.” Dean started pulling out my oversized bell bottom jeans and a loose red top. Wrapped in it were my favorite and comfiest underwear.

“You know how to make a girl relaxed.”

“I know more ways to make you relax.” His hand slid under the blanket and onto my thighs.

I grabbed his hand, stopping it before it could travel any further. “You called me a freak Dean.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Sure.”

“I'm serious, sweetheart.” He grabbed my chin and tilted my face up. His green eyes held me there. I couldn’t look away. He was so beautiful. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Freak is a pretty bad choice of words in that case.”

“I’m sorry.”

My breath hitched. Dean Winchester didn’t throw the words ‘I’m sorry’ around lightly. If he said it to my face, while holding my gaze. Then he definitely meant it. But I had to confirm. “Do you still love me?”

“Even with your weird flinging powers?” He pressed his lips to mine. “Yeah. I love you.”

Notes:

Well that turned out to be a lot longer than I'd expected. I still need to come up with a name for our resident angel that's living rent free in our OC's head. I was gonna do Virgiel for laughs cause virgin and -iel cause angel hahaha, but then I remembered there already was an angel named Virgil, which would make Virgiel pretty un-unique. So now I'm back to square 1. Still not over Samandriel's death though, he was a good angel. I actually liked the dude. Oh well.

Chapter 8: Wendigo

Summary:

...sometimes I wondered if I was even needed. The boys were obviously more than capable of taking care of themselves. It was just one or two of those people they could have saved if they had another person in the group or had better medical training. Anyone could fill that role.

Notes:

YES I FINISHED IT. I had to write this thing at work. It was 12 hours of suffering with a creepy old man who said I looked 12 and that he and I should sleep together, but hey that's just work sometimes. At least I could finish most of my chapter.

If my memories from several years ago served me right then the hunt the boys had dragged me into was the one with a Wendigo. Those god awful ugly things. I still remembered hiding behind an avocado plushie when I saw that episode. God. I hated the first two seasons for all the creepy monsters. Even the leviathans were less scary.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up from my sleeping spot in the backseat of the Impala.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” God, Dean was always so loud. Especially this early in the morning. “Bump up ahead!”

I grimaced as I held onto the front seat to keep myself from being flung to the floor.

“You did that intentionally!” Sam complained. “Maybe if you’d slowed down a little bit, we wouldn’t be flung around so much.”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you!” Dean yelled and turned up the volume on that awful rock station.

Goodness. I was glad to have Sammy back, but seriously? They were gonna argue the whole time? I ran my hands down my face and felt the scar around my stomach, a constant reminder that the events of the show had started.

“Oh, Bobby was calling to check up on you.” Sam handed me my phone. “He sounded worried.”

“Oh. I’ll talk to him for a bit.”

I held the phone up to my ear. “Hey Bobby.”

“Hey kid. How’s it going?”

“Pretty good.”

“Tell Dean to turn that thing down.” he sounded exasperated as always with the older Winchester brother’s antics.

“Dean, turn it down.” Sam and I both told him.

“Like hell I will!” He only turned the music up louder, adding in his off tune vocals.

Why couldn’t he shut up for a second.

“WHY WERE YOU CALLING BOBBY?” I screamed. I held back a smirk when Dean flinched at the loud volume. He grumpily turned the music back down to an acceptable level.

“That got him good.” Bobby sighed. “Stay away from trouble, you idjits.”

“Yes sir.” I said. "Oh Bobby what did the school say?"

"They said they were gonna take you off the payroll, but that you should take all the time you need. They're more than willing to hire you back. Damn kid."

"Yeah, well, where else are they gonna find someone who handles the kids without making them cry like me?" I laughed. "Thanks, Bobby," He grunted and he hung up. He’d just wanted to make sure we were all alive.

“Are we almost there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, around 30 minutes.” Dean answered. “Blackwater Ridge, Lost Creek, Colorado.” with my worst nightmares of a Wendigo in there.

But maybe I could save Roy the idiot, just like I saved Jessica the beautiful.

“Everything going okay with you and Jess?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.” Sam had the goofiest smile on his face. “We’re going strong. It’s a… slightly open relationship though. If one of us finds someone else by the time I can go back to her… then we’re willing to break it off.”

“So friends with benefits.” Dean hummed. “Except it’s kind of for emotional needs and not sexual.”

“So kind of like you guys said you were okay with having friends with benefits on the side of a long distance relationship?” I rephrased what Dean said.

“Uh. Yeah. Put it like that I guess.”

Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the window with a huff. How adorable. And things were looking up.

20 minutes later, brought to you by Dean’s lack of attention to speed limits, we were walking into the park rangers’ office.

‘Blackwater Ridge’ was written in big black grizzly bear letters above the office door. Interesting.

“Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” Sam wondered aloud as he walked to the 3D model of the national forest. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver, and gold mines all over the place.”

Dean headed for the aisles of decorations. “Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear.”

“They’ve got bear plushies.” I knelt down to the box of stuffed animals. “And coyotes. And wolves.”  They even had different colour schemes for each different toy.

“And a dozen or more grizzlies, real grizzlies, in the area. It's no nature hike, that's for sure.” Sam knelt down with me to examine the bears. “Is this a polar bear?”

“You guys aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?” a man spoke up.

“Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper.” Dean lied in response. “Recycle man,”

“Bull.” the Ranger called out his bluff.

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” I walked up next to Dean.

“Sorry about that, Ranger–.” Sam joined us and scanned the man for his badge. “Ranger Wilkinson.”

“Well I will tell you exactly what we told her.” The Ranger glared. “Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

“I suppose not.” I looked down at my feet, feigning sadness. “It’s just that– Haley’s been so upset about the whole thing.”

The Ranger’s voice softened. “You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We’ll tell her that.” Dean smiled and nodded. “She’s quite a pistol, isn’t she?”

The Ranger rolled his eyes. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Actually you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.” Dean straight up lied with a smile.

The Ranger glanced at the three of us before skeptically turning around to go into his office. “Wait here,”

 

“Why are we even going to look for this woman?” Sam complained. “The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?”

Dean paused in front of the Impala. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?”

“What?” Sam looked dumbfounded.

I settled into the backseat, letting the brothers continue their fight.

“Since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later, anyway?”

“Since now.” Sam got into the car and slammed the door shut.

“Really?” Dean too got in.

The 15 minute car ride to Haley’s house was silent. Man, it was awkward.

 

“This the place?” Dean asked.

“Yep,” I checked the address one more time. “This is it.”

“Okay, here goes.” Sam squared his shoulders, put on his best polite smile and rang the doorbell.

“You must be Haley Collins.” Dean pretty much shoved Sam to the side. Sam threw him a glare. “I'm Dean, this is Sam, and that’s Sharon. We're, uh, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

“Lemme see some ID.” Haley said quietly from behind the door.

Dean flashed his fake ID. Haley analysed it for a moment, decided it was legit and opened the door completely. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” I said as she closed the door behind me. Man, she was taller than me even in her bare feet and with me in my platform shoes.

“That yours?” Haley said, referring to the Impala.

“Yeah,” Dean grinned proudly.

“Nice car.” Haley gave a small smile. Man, was she flirting with him? Did no one ever see the matching silver rings on our left ring fingers?

“So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?” Sam started questioning.

“He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos-we haven't heard anything in over three days now.” Haley wrung her wrists. She was clearly distressed. I could empathise. I couldn’t even imagine having my brother missing for days. It had been distressing enough that one time he ran away from home for 30 minutes for some dumb reason I can’t even remember anymore.

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception.” Sam offered.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.” Haley pointed out.

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean leaned over the other brother’s shoulder, peeking at the videos playing over and over again. The brother was clearly trying not to cry.

“He wouldn't do that.” the brother choked out.

“He’s right. Our parents are gone. It's just me, Tommy, and Ben. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.” Haley sniffled.

Poor thing. “Hey,” I made her look at me. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna find him. Alright? Everything’s gonna be okay.”

She nodded weakly before breaking down into tears.

“Hey, uh, Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked gently.

Haley nodded her head towards Ben. “It’s– it’s on his computer.”

“I’m looking at ‘em right now.” Dean turned up the volume on the current video. “Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge.” Sam stood next to him, his eyes squinting as the video came to an end. “We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing.” Dean reassured the siblings.

Haley cleared her throat. “Then maybe I'll see you there.”

“I’m not sure that’s a really good idea.” I held her hand.

“Look, I can't sit around here anymore.” Haley insisted. “So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asked, replaying the video once more.

“Sure.” Haley nodded, then shepherded us out the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning then.”

“Yeah, see you then.” I clasped Haley’s hands in mine. “Hang in there.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

 

“We’re seriously at a bar again?” I groaned at Dean’s choice of dinner place. “We can’t just sit down at some legit diner or something established for food and not drinks?”

“What can I say sweetheart, this is where the fun happens.” Dean lazily draped an arm over my chair and went to sipping his glass of whiskey.

“I should have picked up a shift.” I sighed. “But this place doesn't look like it gets crowded at all. I doubt they need another bartender.”

“They definitely don’t need one with a fake license.” Dean teased.

I shoved his calves with my boot. “Shut it. You treat me like your personal bartender all the time.”

“Hey, you do mix them well.”

“So if you two are done flirting.” Sam cleared his throat. “Here, in Dad’s journal–”

“We weren’t flirting.” I muttered.

“Right.” Sam snorted. “Anyways. Here, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the Same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

Dean and I leaned in as Sam turned the newspaper clipping around. 

‘Grizzly Bear Attacks! Up to eight hikers vanish in Lost Creek Area. Hikers disappearing baffle authorities. Families continue search and rescue efforts in spite of disappointing…’

Sam then spun his laptop around. “And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936. Every 23 years, just like clockwork. So, look at this. Here’s a clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.”

He hit play and then immediately paused it, letting the video proceed frame by frame. A shadow had passed by in just three frames.

“Do it again.” Dean gestured.

Sam repeated it. “That’s three frames. That’s a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

“It moves horribly fast and I know that’s no grizzly bear.” I swirled the water in my glass. Was I seriously going to join them on a Wendigo hunt? For some reason vampires, werewolves, ghosts, wraiths, whatever didn’t scare me, but these Wendigos were terrifying.

“Told you something weird was going on.” Dean gloated.

“Yeah.” Sam ignored Dean’s mocking tone. Sam closed his laptop and then presented us with another news clipping. “Another thing. In 59, one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

“Is there a name?” Dean asked.

“Already done.” Sam smirked as he tossed a sheet with the address written down.

“Sorry Dean, Sammy wins this one.” I teased.

“Traitor,” Dean huffed.

 

Dean parked the car right outside the old man’s home and the three of us climbed out.

“We’re still Rangers?” I had to check.

“Yep,” Dean pulled out his fake badge.

“I’ll do the talking this time.” Sam knocked on the door before Dean could protest. “Hello,” he said when the door finally opened. “Mr. Shaw?” The old man nodded feebly. “We’re Rangers from Blackwater Ridge. We were doing some cleaning and stumbled onto your file from 59, the grizzly attack. And we thought that the current grizzly attacks could have something to do with your attack. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Uh, uh. Sure,” The old man stammered and let us in. He sat down in his rocking armchair. “Look Ranger, I don’t know why you’re asking me about this. It’s a public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

“Grizzly? That’s what attacked them?” Sam challenged.

The old man closed his eyes and nodded.

“What about all the other people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

“Hey now look man.” Dean stepped forward. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.”

“I seriously doubt that.” The old man scoffed. “Anyways, I don’t see what difference it would make. You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.”

I knelt down to the old man’s level and put on my best ‘good innocent girl’ smile. “Mr. Shaw. We’re more open minded than you think. We just want to know what you saw. Just tell us like you saw it. We’re not here to judge.”

“Nothing.” He trembled. “I saw nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it though. A roar. Like… no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?” Sam raised an eyebrow. The old man nodded. “It got inside your tent?”

“Cabin. It got inside our cabin.” The old man shook his head as his memories came flooding back. Poor guy. “I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn’t smash a window or break the door— It unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that?” The man looked at me. “I didn’t even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.”

“My goodness.” I sympathised.

”It killed them?” Dean asked.

“Dragged them off into the night.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. I reached for the tissue box and handed him a tissue. He wiped his face before mumbling a thank you. “Why it left me alive… Been asking myself that ever since. Did leave me this though.” He pulled the collar of his shirt down to reveal three angry slashes at his neck. If one didn’t know better they would say it was a bear claw. “There’s something evil in those woods.” He whispered. “It was some sort of a demon.”

“Well, thank you for your time.” Sam shook his hand.

“We’ll see ourselves out.” Dean headed for the door.

”Thank you.” I patted the old man’s hand and followed the brothers back to the car.

 

“Spirits and demons don’t have to unlock doors. If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it’s probably something else, something corporeal.” Sam wondered aloud.

“Corporeal?” Dean scoffed. “Excuse me professor.”

“Sharon’s the real professor here.” Sam grumbled. Dean looked at me and shook his head. I shrugged. “So what do you think?”

I wondered if I could say it was a wendigo now. It was only a matter of time until they figured it out. “It’s a—” But of course it wouldn’t come out. I threw my hands in defeat and flopped onto the motel bed. I kicked my boots off as Sam and Dean looked at me quizzically. “What? I can’t say it!” How else could I explain it to them though? “Fireplace.” There.

“What? It’s scared of fireplaces and chimneys?” Dean huffed.

“Maybe it is.” Sam took me seriously at least. “It could be weak to fire. Now what monster do we hunt that’s scared of fire?” Bruh, they really didn’t get it even now?

“Anyways. We should get our beauty sleep.” Dean shook off his boots haphazardly next to the bed and stuffed his socks into them. His looked comically big next to my smaller boots that were almost half his size. “And I’ll sleep with my beauty.” Dean gave me his flirtiest smirk.

Cheeky little bastard. I rolled away from him, but made sure to wiggle back to his chest. He was always so warm. In these cold motel rooms with drafts blowing in through the cracks in the walls, he was like a personal space heater. His arms settled around my waist, his hands ducking under my nightgown to rub circles on my stomach.

“You two better be keeping things PG under there.” I heard Sam mutter.

“Don’t listen to him.” Dean whispered. His hands started to rise up to my chest, but I quickly grabbed his hand. He whined but complied.

“I’m getting a different motel room next time.” Sam loudly enough for us to hear.

“Sure Sammy,” Dean mumbled.

Slowly but surely, we all fell asleep.

 

I shoved my feet into my boots and double tied my laces. I tucked them into each other until I was sure there was no way they were gonna give out. I watched Dean do the same. Sam just tied his boots with a simple knot and called it a day.

We piled into the car and Dean drove us to the edge of the national forest. Roy, Haley, and Ben were already there.

“You guys got room for three more?” Dean yelled as he handed me my backpack for the hunt. The shotgun rested heavily in my bag and the flamethrower hidden carefully under my jacket.

“Wait, you're coming with us?” Haley sounded surprised.

“Who’re these guys?” Roy glared at us.

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue.” Haley rolled her eyes.

That ungrateful wench. In reality she was getting none for the search and rescue. We were fake rangers.

And Roy seemed to have caught onto that pretty quick. “You’re Rangers?”

“That’s right.” Dean smirked confidently.

“And you’re hiking out in biker boots and jeans?”

Sam ignored the question. He trudged ahead with determination. His only purpose was finding John. I could respect that.

“You wanted me to show up in a skirt instead?” I couldn’t help but comment.

“I don’t do shorts either, sweetheart.” Dean cackled as he followed behind me.

“What? You think this is funny? It’s dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

“Safety in numbers Roy,” I told him. “Sammy, wait up.” I sped up a little to follow the taller Winchester.

“Those kids aren’t leading this.” Roy shoved past me and Sam to take the lead.

Sam just rolled his eyes. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Dean saluted in response and crossed to walk in front of me. I kept an eye on the brother and sister duo who were clinging onto their guns.

“Hey Roy,” Dean suddenly spoke up. “You said you did a little hunting.”

“Yeah, more than a little.” was the snarky response.

“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear.”

“Tell me, uh, did Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?”

“Dean, trap.” I chimed. He looked down just in time to dodge it.

“You didn’t pack any provisions.” Haley started walking next to me, barely managing to match my pace. “You guys are carrying a duffel bag and a school bag. You’re not Rangers.” She grabbed my arm. “Who the hell are you?”

“The three of us are family, and we’re looking for our father. He might be here somewhere, we don’t really know. So… I just figured that we were all in the same boat.”” Dean answered for me. 

“Why didn’t you just say that from the start?”

“Would you have let three strangers into your home and just give them videos of your missing brother through email?” I questioned and she shut up real quick.

“And what do you even mean we didn’t pack provisions.” Dean said in mock offense. He pulled out a packet of M and Ms and tossed a handful into his mouth.

What a child he was. But so was I. I tilted the packet sideways enough so I could reach into it and popped a few in my own mouth. Mmm… delicious.

 

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge.” Roy said as he paused to get his bearings.

“What coordinates are we at?” Sam finally spoke up after being silent the whole hike.

Roy showed him the satellite GPS. I was too lazy to actually read them so I just looked around with Dean. Sam joined us a minute later.

“You hear that?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Not even crickets.” Sam looked up in the trees.

“Something is scaring them.” A wendigo to be precise.

“I’m gonna go look around.” Roy grabbed his gun.

“Safety in numbers Roy!” I yelled.

“For young inexperienced ones like you maybe!” Roy pushed past us and took the lead once more.

“Idiot!” I felt my flamethrower under my jacket and ran after him. He was gonna get us both killed!

“All right, everybody stays together! Let’s go.” Dean yelled behind us and I felt better when I heard their footsteps behind us. At least I hoped it was them.

 

We reached Tommy’s campsite before nightfall.

The tents had been torn apart and there was blood everywhere along with the supplies.

“Looks like a grizzly.” Roy concluded. Incorrectly.

“Tommy!” Haley started yelling. “Tommy!”

“Shh!” Sam hissed.

“Why?!” Could this Haley girl get any stupider? I knew she was worried and I would be too if my brother went missing and left behind a bloody campsite but being dead wouldn’t help either of us.

“Something might still be out there.” Sam grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back to the group.

From the corner of my eye I caught Dean silently waving us over. “Sam.” I touched his arm. “Dean wants us there.”

Sam and I made our way over.

Dean was tapping the ground with a stick. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That’s weird.” Dean stretched his back. “I’ll tell you what, that’s no skinwalker or black dog.”

“Um. Hello?” I waved my flamethrower in front of his face. How did they still not realise it was a wendigo?

“Help! Help!” Someone, or something, yelled. “Help! Somebody!”

“No.” I grabbed Dean and Sam as they turned to run. “It’s not a human cry!”

“What if it is. What if it’s not playing how you expected it to?” Sam challenged. “You saved Jessica. That wasn’t part of the script. Maybe this is different because of that. Butterfly effect, remember? What if this is Dad?”

Right. Maybe it was different this time.

I followed the brothers after the voice. But of course, there was nothing.

“It came from here, right?” Haley looked around frantically.

“Everybody back to camp.” Sam turned around first, and we followed him back.

“Our packs!” Haley shrieked.

“So much for my satellite phone and GPS.” Roy sighed.

“What the hell is going on?” Haley cried.

“It’s smart. It wants to cut us off so we can’t call for help.”

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole our gear.”

“Still think it’s just a grizzly?” I asked Roy. Sam had dragged Dean a few feet away along with their dad’s journal. He must have figured it out. Good.

“This is useless.” Dean unzipped the bag still on my back and dropped his pistol inside.

“Your thing. You carry it.” I shrugged off my backpack and hung it on his arm.

He visibly cringed at it. “It has a bunny hanging from it!”

“His name is Button!”

“We need to get these people to safety.” Sam brought us back to reality from our petty argument. “All right, listen up!” He said loudly. The three others joined us in a circle. “It’s time to go. Things have gotten… more complicated.”

“What?” Haley scoffed.

“Kid, don’t worry. Whatever is out there, I think I can handle it.” Roy’s voice had gone soft. “I was once scared of hunting things in the dark—”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. If you shoot this thing, you’re just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now.”

Roy got angry. “One, you’re talking nonsense. Two, you’re in no position to give anybody orders.”

“Hey hey, relax.” Dean stepped in between Sam and Roy.

“What’re they talking about?” Haley asked me. “Are we really in danger?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “You might really wanna get out of here with Ben. Dean, Sam, and I, we’re kind of hunters. We have experience with a shotgun and fighting things. You guys are just normal kids. You don’t have to be dragged into this mess.”

“But it’s too late. It’s too dark.” This was the first time I’d heard Ben speak. But he was right. Night had fallen and we were essentially left without any source of light or map or gps or even cell reception to get back out of the dense forest.

“Look. I have a phone. It’s cellular, not satellite.” I rummaged in my backpack. Where was the burner phone when I wanted it? “But there could randomly be enough bars for you to call 911.” I fished it out from my pocket where I usually kept my sunglasses and reading glasses.

Ben held it in his hands before shaking his head. “I’m not going back without Tommy.”

His sister held him in a hug. “Me neither. We’ll stay with you guys.”

Meanwhile, things were getting heated between the three gruff men with too much testosterone.

“How about we stop fighting.” I held Sam back from punching Roy. “It’s already dark outside. We can’t go back tonight even if we tried.”

“She’s right. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We’ll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.

So we lit a fire and huddled around it as Dean drew Anasazi symbols all around us.

“Ana-ana what again?” Haley asked.

“Anasazi symbols.” I explained. “The wendigo can’t cross over them.”

Roy cackled.

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy.” Dean yelled back. “You still have your flamethrower on you?”

“Never left it.” I nodded to my bag that he had dropped right next to the campfire. “I have a couple more in there.”

“You’re the best.” Dean grinned. I placed a hand on my mouth when he leaned a little too close, most definitely looking for a kiss.

“Not in front of so many people, Dean.” I could feel a blush forming though. This gorgeous man wanted to kiss me after all. I could never get used to his type of PDA.

“So it’s fine when no one else is looking huh?” He smirked. “I’m gonna go talk to Sammy. He… he doesn’t look too happy right now.”

I nodded. “Go ahead.”

I caught Hakey and Ben staring at us with wide eyes. “You two aren’t siblings? But you said you guys were— Oh.”

God, ew, no, the incest allegations. “No no. I’m a part of their family through marriage.” I showed off my wedding ring. “I was Sharon Maris before Sharon Winchester. I’m just helping Dean and Sam look for their dad. He and my guardian were pretty close.”

“So… why are you guys helping us?” Ben asked. “You three look like you know a lot about hunting and these weird symbols too. You could have looked for your dad together.”

“Well, the thing is. Our families are screwed. My parents and my brother are dead. John, Dean and Sam’s dad, is missing. And the man who takes care of me is a workaholic, and a bit of an alcoholic. He’s a good man though. He just… definitely has cirrhosis.” I explained. “Anyways, what I mean is. Just because our families are screwed doesn’t mean other ones have to be. The family business isn’t just about hunting things, it’s about saving people too.”

A twig snapped out of nowhere. It was here. Wendigo.

I grabbed my gun and stepped close to Roy. This bastard would not be the death of us. But he wasn’t leaving the Anasazi circle today. But. If he didn’t get killed, then how would we find Tommy? I had no idea where that kid would be in this giant forest.

“Help me! Please!”

The brothers and I tensed up.

“Help!”

Sam waved his flashlight about.

“Stay put.” I reminded Roy.

“What? In the magic circle?” he scoffed.

“Help! Help me!” and then the creature growled. It was an animal-like growl but it felt so human.

“Okay, that’s no grizzly.” Roy pointed his gun at the sound.

Haley and Ben were holding each other tight and whispering comforting words to one another. Until something rushed by and made them shriek.

“It’s here.” Sam reached for a flamethrower.

Something rustled in the bushes and Roy shot at it. “I got it! I shot something!” He cheered. I spotted his legs tensing to run.

“ROY! NO!” I grabbed him, but he was too strong. He easily wrestled out of my hold and ran for it.

“No, no, no!” Dean went after Roy.

“You three stay put!” Sam told us and went for Roy too.

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” The wendigo cried.

God, it was hard to stay put. I held Haley and Ben so that they wouldn’t step over the circle.

“Roy!” I heard Dean yell, but it was confirmed from the tone of it. Roy was dead.

 

Morning rolled in, and Haley and Ben were still curled up with each other rolled in a thin blanket I had in my bag.

Roy hadn’t survived. I couldn’t save him. Of course I couldn’t. I was just one tiny girl thrown into this whole mess by some stupid voice in my head. For all I knew I could be schizophrenic and drugged up and locked up in some psychiatric hospital with just my insane thoughts and hallucinations for over 8 years.

“You didn’t sleep.”

I jumped when Dean sat down next to me. “Yeah, wendigos scare me.”

“No, it's more than that.” Dean fixed me with a stare.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew I wasn’t telling him everything. And honestly? I didn’t know how to tell him everything either. “Sorry, Dean. I don’t know how to talk about this.”

“That’s fine.” He bumped my knees with his. “We can talk about it when you want.”

“Yeah,” But I was never going to tell him the dark thoughts in my head. That sometimes I wondered if I was even needed. The boys were obviously more than capable of taking care of themselves. It was just one or two of those people they could have saved if they had another person in the group or had better medical training. Anyone could fill that role. “Sam looks like he hasn’t slept either.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean shrugged. “We did keep watch all night. In case that thing came back.”

“Thanks for that.” I turned around to see Haley standing in front of us. She sat down across from us and stared at the Anasazi symbols. “I can’t believe it. I mean, these types of things, they aren't supposed to be real.”

“Wish I could tell you different.” Dean straightened up.

“How do we know it's not out there watching us?”

“We don't. But we're safe for now.”

“Do these… pictures really keep them away?” Haley ran her fingers over one of the symbols.

“Try not to touch it. Any alteration to the symbols and we’re dead meat.” I reminded her. She snatched her hand away immediately. “But yeah, they work. I was skeptical too, but hey. We’re still alive. And it hasn’t tried to get any closer to us.”

“How do you guys know all this stuff?”

“Kinda runs in the family.” Dean answered after a short pause.

Haley looked at me. “And you knew that when you married him?”

I nodded. “Yeah,”

“So you married into all of this? Or did it run in the family too?”

“Uh. My family was killed by some creature several years ago. Might have been a wendigo. Or a werewolf. I don’t really know. But a hunter saved me and I kind of ended up knowing one of their dad’s friends and yeah. I kind of got thrown into the life.” That was the outside story Bobby had created for me. Other than the Winchesters, not even the hunters knew what had really happened. Worked for me. The less people that knew I knew the future, the less chance of me getting kidnapped and tortured.

“Hey,” Sam said as Ben started to stir. “Whoah, stay put. The wendigo is still here.” He grabbed the still drowsy boy from accidentally stepping outside the symbolic circle. It took a few moments but Ben managed to rub the sleep from his eyes and sat down next to his sister.

Sam joined us in our makeshift human circle. “So we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in.” Dean leaned over Sam’s shoulder to look at what he was reading in John’s journal.

“Me too,” I chimed.

Haley and Ben nodded. “Us too.” Haley said for both of them.

“Well, here.” Sam turned around the journal towards the two. “'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours'.”

“They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.” Dean added.

I preferred the term Native American. Us Indians from India and the Natives from America misknown as Indians were not the same. I wanted to interject. People always thought I was Native American when I said I was Indian. There was nothing wrong with that of course. Native Americans were great. They had amazing jewellery designs. But getting mislabeled was not very pleasant. I doubted the other party liked it too.

“So, how's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asked.

“Well, it's always the same. During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party?” Ben asked.

“Yeah,” I answered.

The brothers continued.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality.”

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry.”

“So if that's true, how can Tommy…” Haley’s voice broke, “…still be alive?”

“ You're not gonna like it.” Dean glanced at me and Sam.

“It’s her brother Dean. She needs to know what to expect.” I held the girl’s hand who gratefully squeezed back. Her other hand held onto Ben, both their knuckles almost turning white from the force.

Dean sighed. “More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It, uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?” Haley looked around at our weapons.

“Flamethrowers.” I showed her the one I had on my person. “Press here and we should be able to kill it.”

“Just torch the sucker.” Dean stood up and handed one each to Haley and Ben.

“We don’t have enough for everybody.” Ben said.

“That’s fine.” Sam presented us with a can of lighter fluid, a beer bottle, and a white cloth he'd picked up. “We’ll make our own.”

“We should start looking before it’s nightfall and it gets stronger again.” I grabbed my flamethrower and packed it neatly into my jacket. The others did the same.

“M and Ms? Seriously, Dean?” Sam rolled his eyes at the sight.

“What?” Dean shook the packet in my direction. I dipped my hand in and munched on a few. “We might get hungry.” Little did he know, those M and Ms would save his life.

 

Sam and Dean took turns leading us through the forest as we tracked the claw marks and bloody prints.

The next time we took a break, Sam stared at the broken branches and bloody claw marks all around us. “You know, I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct. They were almost too easy to follow.”

We all heard growling and rustling in the trees. Something dripped onto my shirt. Did a bird poop on me? I pulled on the fabric to examine what had happened. The wet spot was red. Blood.

“Is there a corpse above me?” I whispered. My heart was hammering in my chest. This was fear. I hadn’t felt fear like this since I’d been trying to save Jessica.

“Shit. Roy.” Dean tugged me out from under the corpse. The corpse dropped a second later.

“You okay? You got it?” Sam patted me down as he checked for anything wrong. I nodded. “Remember, breathe.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath and held it for three seconds before exhaling slowly.

“His neck's broke.” Dean shook his head. The growling from around us grew louder. “Okay, run, run, run, run. Go, go, go!”

Dean and I ran in front. I could hear Haley, Ben, and Sam tracing our steps.

“Back to camp?” I yelled.

“Yeah–” Dean yelled. “Son of a bi–!” he stopped abruptly in his tracks. He held out an arm in front of me as the Wendigo appeared in sight.

It looked like slenderman. With its emaciated appearance and sunken eyes, it appeared more horrifying than the nightmares I sometimes got. It took slow calculated steps towards us.

“Other way!” Dean pulled on me. But I couldn’t make my legs move.

Whoever said that the body had two reactions to danger be damned. Fight or flight? More like fight, flight, or freeze. And I was the kind that would freeze in the headlights. “Fuck.” I was going to die. That was when I fainted.

 

“Sh-sharon!” someone was shaking me. My head throbbed, and my whole body ached. But mostly my wrists. It was like something was digging into them. I could barely feel my arms anymore.

“Here, knife.”

Knife?

I was suddenly falling. Someone caught me. This someone was soft. A woman. Woman? I snapped my eyes open and looked around. Haley. The girl whose brother we were saving from the Wendigo.

“Was I caught by the Wendigo?” I looked around in the cold, wet, dark place. There were scraps of human hanging from the cave ceiling. Was this even a cave? It smelled like death.

“It’s not here right now.” Haley tugged me up.

I stumbled onto my feet. “I should have been saving you.” I held her shoulder for a second while my feet stabilised. “Let’s find Tommy.”

The place was large. There were scraps on the ceiling and the floor. The brothers and Haley, Ben, and I split up into two groups. Ben kept his flashlight trained on the floor while Haley kept hers aimed up, trying to identify which one was her brother. The other kids that had been with him had been found by Sam and Dean, and they were most definitely beyond saving. I brought up the rear of the trio, ready to scream and run with the siblings if the Wendigo appeared again.

“Tommy,” Haley suddenly stopped and started cutting away at the ropes holding the boy up. Chunks of flesh were missing from his legs, but he was still breathing. “Wake up Tommy!” she pleaded.

“Haley?” Tommy shot up straight, trembling in his sister’s arms.

“We found the flamethrowers.” Dean and Sam joined us. “Cell reception too.” Dean handed me my phone.

“Didn’t know Wendigos had family they needed to call.” I checked the number of bars I had. Stable enough to make a 911 call.

“For all our sakes I hope they don’t have a family dinner planned.” Dean clapped me between the shoulders. “Let’s roll.”

Sam led us in the front. Haley and Ben supported Tommy as we went through the tunnels. Dean and I remained in the back, waving our flashlights around cautiously, hoping that the thing wouldn’t show up again.

There was growling down the tunnel. “Someone’s home for supper.” Dean whispered. He looked at me, Sam, and then the siblings in between us. “Sam and Sharon are gonna get you guys out of here.”

“What? But what about you?” Haley and I looked at him.

“You’ve got a brother to carry out.” Dean pointed towards Tommy. “And you,” he pointed to me. “You fainted the last time you saw that guy. So leave this to me.”

“Dean–”

“No, get out of here, alright?”

“Do you even have a plan?”

“Sure I do.” he smirked. He walked away from the group. “Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I'm feeling good.” his voice faded into the distance.

“Alright, come on.” Sam hustled. “He’ll be fine, Sharon. He’s strong. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Alright then, come on.”

We went as fast as we could with an injured person. But clearly we weren’t fast enough, or Dean hadn’t been able to fight off the wendigo or maybe the wendigo did have a family dinner planned, because there was growling right next to my ear.

“Sharon!” Sam yelled and a stream of fire erupted, separating the wendigo from me.

“Don’t stop, keep going!” I pushed on the three siblings.

Sam held the creature back as we made our way down the tunnel. And then there was a shaft we had to climb out of. We could never do it fast enough with a wendigo hot on our tails. I was starting to get dizzy from the panic. If Sam could hold it off long enough then we could get the three out of here–

“Shit!” Sam yelled and pressed against us, hiding us behind him. “Ran out of fuel.” he hissed.

“H-here’s mine–” I passed the one in my hand to him.

He held it and pressed on the button. The stream of fire kept the wendigo far away from us so that it couldn’t touch us. But it could just wait out until the fuel ran out, and then it was chow time.

Dean. Where was Dean? Had he become chowder too? Or was he still alive and waiting for the right time to strike?

“Hey!” Dean’s voice finally echoed through the tunnel, and the Wendigo was set ablaze.

Haley clung onto me as the thing burned. And that was that. All that fear, just burned to a pile of ashes on the floor of an old tunnel.

“Not bad, huh?” Dean laughed, even out of breath. He was alive. We were alive. I was alive. But Roy was dead.

 

“That's when it circled the campsite. I mean, this grizzly must have weighed eight hundred, nine hundred pounds.” I could vaguely hear Ben giving his false testimony to cover up the supernatural events of the past couple of days.

My own thoughts were louder. I had failed. I had failed in saving someone. I knew I couldn’t save everybody. But still. Roy had been mean and stuff, but he was an overall good guy that had wanted to help out three siblings. I’d later learned how much Haley had paid Roy. It was barely a couple hundred bucks. It was a lot to the broken family of three kids with no real source of income, but truthfully that wouldn’t have even covered the fees of a visitors tour of the national forest for one person.

“We couldn’t find Dad.” Sam sat down next to me on the edge of the sidewalk. “I would have said that this trip was a bust, but…” he looked down at his hands. “We saved a kid.”

“At the price of another man.”

“The other two would have died too if we hadn’t been there.” Dean sat down on my other side. “That’s what was really bothering you huh? Not saving Roy?”

I nodded. My bootlaces had come undone. Dean leaned down to retie them. I watched his large hands expertly weave the laces with each other, and with each tug the boot fit snugger. “Tight enough?”

I nodded. The lump in my throat wouldn’t let me thank him.

“You should buy sneakers.” Sam tapped my other boot with his own boots.

“Other one.” Dean motioned for my other foot.

“It’s fine.” I forced out.

“Don’t want the other shoe to drop. C’mon.”

I relented and lifted my foot up. He patted his thigh. “No,”

“Just let him.” Sam chuckled. “He likes it.”

“Psh,” Dean scoffed. “I don’t like being stepped on.”

“Sure you don’t Dean. Remember when you fell over in 11th grade and Sally accidentally stepped on your leg?”

“That– that was ten years ago!” Dean tried to defend himself.

“But you liked it.” Sam laughed.

His laughter was contagious. I couldn’t help but break a smile myself.

“She smiles.” Dean gasped in exaggeration.

I plopped my boot on his thigh. “Then tie it.” I turned around to see Sam smiling at the two of us. “Thanks Sammy. For everything. Especially down there.”

“No thanks for me?” Dean pouted.

Maybe I could tease him a bit more. “You can get your thanks later.” I dragged the tip of my boot down his leg.

“Separate motel room please.” Sam grumbled.

Dean threw his head back and laughed.

Notes:

Resources used for this chapter:
https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6562
I usually write chapters based on actual episodes while rewatching the episode itself, but y'all the first two seasons were so terrifying I slept with my parents for two weeks. So I had to use a transcript for some of the dialogue and events I didn't want to change.

Chapter 9: Dead in the Water

Summary:

“There are cases where going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions and psychic tendencies.”
Did these cases include getting telekinetic powers? Or did some demon drip blood into my mouth too?

Notes:

WARNING:
1. It gets steamy for some reason.
2. Talks of menstruation.
3. Mentions of asexuality.
4. Kind of toxic? Not exactly cheating, but almost, because jealousy is a real thing.
Ik some people aren't comfortable with these scenes. So, you have been warned.

I remembered this one. It was the case where the police guy killed the kid as a kid with another kid. Man. Kids those days. “The Carlton family is sad to announce the death of their beloved daughter in a tragic swimming accident. Sophie Carlton, 18… Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin…” I read the newspaper out loud to Dean and Sam. Newspapers. I’d been reduced from reading google recommended gamerant articles to reading black and white newspapers. My purple phone in its purple phone case rested on the side.

“Cute purse.” the waitress smiled. She was attractive. Blonde hair, large chest, tiny tiny waist, wide hips. I ripped my eyes away from her pretty blue ones. My insecurities were starting to get the better of me. Again.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asked sweetly.

“No, thank you.” I said quickly. “Just the bill.”

“Of course.” she smiled and walked away.

“Whatcha got?” Dean dropped the final fry into his mouth and leaned on the table. Sam pulled out his card to pay.

“Last week there was this girl, Sophie Carlton, eighteen years old. She walked into the lake, and never walked out. Authorities said they dragged the water, but they found nothing. Hers was the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago.” I summarised.

“Funeral?” Sam asked.

“Empty coffin though.” I shook my head at the vain attempt at a funeral. “Closure or something.” What lies.

“Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear. Other people just stop looking for them.” Sam scoffed.

“And we haven’t stopped looking for John, Sam.” I said softly. He looked distraught.

“The trail for Dad. It's getting colder every day.”

“Exactly. So what are we supposed to do?” Dean threw his hand in defeat.

“I don't know. Something. Anything.”

“You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?”

“Okay, guys, can we not fight in a diner?”

“You stay out of this Sharon. He’s not even your dad.”

“Excuse me?”

“Okay, you two can argue in the car. We’re in public right now–”

“I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies.”

“Dean, no. Don’t patronise Sammy. Why are we all fighting? Anyway, my point is– We will find John, but until then, we have to stick together, alright?”

“And kill everything bad between here and there while we’re at it.”

Sam had no choice but to nod along.

 

‘Welcome to Lake Manitoc’ the sign read.

“Where are we starting?” I asked.

“Will Carlton. Last to see his sister, Sophie.”

“Great.” The car pulled up next to the Carlton mailbox.

Dean led us to the door and knocked. “Will Carlton?” the young man that opened the door nodded. “I'm Agent Ford. This is Agent Hamill, and Agent May. We're with the US Wildlife Service.”

We flashed our badges on cue.

“Um, Mr. Clinton,” I leaned a little forward when we sat down to question him. “Can you tell us about what you saw when your sister was out in the lake?”

“She was about a hundred yards out. That's where she got dragged down.”

“And you're sure she didn't just drown?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah. She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in that lake. She was as safe out there as she was in her own bathtub.” Not when there was a spirit that travelled through the pipes and tried to kill everyone in town.

“So no splashing? No signs of distress?” Sam tilted his head.

“No, that's what I'm telling you.”

“Did you see any shadows in the water? Maybe some dark shape breach the surface?”

“No. Again, she was really far out there.”

“You ever see any strange tracks by the shoreline?” Dean continued.

“No, never. Why? Why, what do you think's out there?”

“Well, we’re not really sure. But, we’ll let you know when we do find something out.” I finished the conversation and we all left.

“Shouldn’t we talk to the father too?” Sam suddenly said.

“I don’t think there would have been much point in talking to him. He seemed pretty dazed.” I got in the car.

“She has a point. That guy probably wouldn’t make a peep.” Dean shrugged and the two brothers got in as well. “Next stop, police station.”

 

“Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?” the Sheriff, Sheriff Jenkins, the one behind all of this glared at us.

“You sure it's accidental? Will Carlton saw something grab his sister.” Sam shot back. Good boy.

“Like what?” the Sheriff gestured towards the chairs in his office. “Sorry, only got two in here.”

“I c–” I started, but Dean cut in.

“That’s fine. I’ll stand.” He put on the smile that said ‘this is final’, and I wasn’t going to protest in public.

“There are no indigenous carnivores in that lake.” the Sheriff repeated. “There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it was the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean laughed. Sam and I shot him a look. He quietened down quick.

“Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still– We dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep, just to be sure, and there was nothing down there.”

“That's weird, though, I mean, that's, that's the third missing body this year.”

“I know. These are people from my town. These are people I care about.”

“We understand.” I sympathised. Not really. This guy had murdered when he was a child. To me, he was more of a monster than the one that dragged people into the lake, because he was a human.

“Anyway… All this...it won't be a problem much longer.”

“Well, the dam, of course.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t realise they had already begun construction.”

“It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months, there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town, either.”

A beautiful voice brought us out of our very unenlightening conversation. “Oh, uh, sorry, am I interrupting?”

Dean’s eyes were immediately on her. Jealousy bubbled in my chest. He had a soft spot for women and children. Single mothers even more. And there Andrea was, with her little boy. “I can come back later.”

“Gentlemen, this is my daughter.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dean.” Dean held out his hand.

“Andrea Barr. Hi.” Andrea shook it firmly. Man, another thing he liked.

“Sharon.” I found myself quipping in. Andrea's smile faltered. Jealousy was a pain.

“And I’m Sam.” Thanks Sammy for the backup. “We’re with the Wildlife Services. About the lake.”

“Oh,” Andrea whispered.

“Oh, hey there,” Dean finally spotted the kid hiding behind Andrea. “What’s your name?”

The boy ran away without answering.

“His name is Lucas.” the Sheriff answered.

“Is he okay?” Sam asked, concerned.

“My grandson's been through a lot. We all have.” Yeah, like the grandmother of the poor boy he’d killed.

“Well, if there's anything else I can do for you, please let me know.” The Sheriff walked out of his office. The conversation was clearly over.

“Thanks. You know, now that you mentioned it, could you point us in the direction of a reasonably priced motel?”

“Lakefront Motel. Go around the corner. It's about two blocks south.” Andrea pointed down the road.

“Two–, would you mind showing us– Sharon!” Dean was just straight up flirting at this point. I could hear him yelling my name as I walked out the door. I could walk two blocks by myself. I heard Sam’s heavy footsteps follow me close behind.

“Hey,” Sam caught up. “You know he’s not actually going to do anything with her right?”

“Yeah, flirting with another woman in front of his wife . That’s not doing any thing, indeed! Just another day on the job you know.”

“Sharon, trust me, when I say that he has been loyal to you since–”

“Look here, Sam. I know what looking upon a beautiful woman or man feels like, alright? Just because sex disgusts me doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at a handsome man– with clothes on. But I wouldn’t actually go up and talk to them like I don’t have a ring on my finger.”

“That’s… that’s true.” Sam sighed.

“You would tell me if he ever has an affair, right?”

“Of course. He might be my brother, but I won’t let him be a douchebag to my sister either. And you know that Dad would tell you too, right? You’re like a daughter to him. Except he’s MIA right now.”

“I know John will tell me. He once texted me when he thought Dean was trying to take a girl to the motel from a bar when they were on a hunt.”

“Wait, what?” Sam turned around to see if he could spot Dean.

“It was nothing, Sam. As it turns out, the girl had been roofied and the ambulances and firefighters were too busy putting out some fire in a restaurant, so he took her to the hospital.”

“How do you stay with the guy?” Sam shook his head.

“By ignoring him until he realises his mistake.” I opened the front door to the motel and slid my (fake) card to the clerk. “Two rooms please. One with one king, and another with two kings.”

“He’s being kicked to the couch?” Sam looked on, amused.

“Two rooms, coming right up.” The guy chimed and handed the card back to us.

“Hey,” Dean finally wandered in. I refused to look in his direction.

“Give me just one moment to find you guys your keys…” the guy was cute. Cute dirty blond hair and cute sparkling blue eyes… His name tag read ‘William’. Cute name too. I felt a little guilty as an idea popped into my head. Two could play the game Dean was playing.

 He dangled two keys on his fingers. When I went to take them, I made sure my hand brushed against his. “Thanks William.”

“You’re welcome. Ms. Carter.” Even his smile was cute. Damn.

“You two should go ahead.” I tossed the one for the double king bed to Sam. I tapped my fingers on the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to know any bars around the area, would you?”

“What–” I heard Dean start, but he was quickly dragged away by Sam. I shot Sam a thumbs up. Thanks, Sammy.

“Fight with your husband?” William leaned in closer.

“He’s– he’s not–” I stammered.

William chuckled. “Oh, it’s alright. I knew from the moment the bigger guy said ‘couch’. And you and the other guy have matching rings.”

“So people do see them,” I groaned. “And they still willingly hit on them.”

“I must say, he looks like the playboy type. How are you doing it?”

“Man, I don’t know. I like the guy. He likes me back. He hasn’t cheated. Not to mention he only flirts with women when I’m around. He knows I get jealous easily.”

“You know… that sounds kind of… manipulative?”

I shrugged. “Well, did you not see me try to flirt with you?”

“Tit for tat huh.” he laughed. Man, he was seriously cute.

“Well, obviously I wasn’t very good at it.” I sighed. “I’ve never actually done this kind of thing before. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

“Oh, it was no problem.” William grinned. “But if you really are looking for a bar. There’s one two streets across. Gets real busy over the weekend.”

“Do you know if they're hiring temp hands?”

“Oh, you’re a bartender.” William whistled. “I can introduce you to the woman that runs the joint. Her name’s Andrea, Andrea Barr.” What a twist of fate. But did Andrea run a bar in the series?

“Uh… like the one whose husband drowned recently?”

“Yeah. Christopher was a great guy. His son, Lucas, looks just like him…” William looked down sadly. “It was a sad thing. The boy’s still traumatised from it. Won’t talk to anyone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” But I already knew that information.

“Thanks.” he gave a watery smile.

“Thank you too. Take care. I hope it’ll get easier for you.”

“I wish you luck with your husband too. Have a good stay.”

 

That evening, I went to talk with Andrea before the bar opened.

“I thought you worked with Wildlife.” Andrea looked at me with questioning eyes.

“Well, I also have a bartending license. Used to do it to pay for college.” I handed her my (fake) license. “I just work as a temporary hire now when we’re working longer cases. And we happen to be staying for a few more days.” I leaned in to whisper. “Wildlife doesn’t really pay that well to us leg workers.”

Andrea nodded in understanding. “We do have a busy weekend. Bachelorette party of an old friend of mine. We’re the only actual dive in town, so… welcome on board!” she held out her arms for a hug, and I hesitantly accepted her hug. Why did people like hugs so much?

She pulled away with a smile. “Lemme just go grab your apron and temporary name tag… Do you have makeup?”

“No–”

“I’ll get you some of mine. And once I’ve introduced you to everyone, you can start as soon as we open in an hour!”

 

Working till 2:00AM worked out perfectly for someone with a whack a sleep schedule as mine. My bedtime had always been 3:00AM to noon, and that school schedule really threw me off. Bars had such better timing.

I inserted my key into my motel room door knob and twisted. No click. It twisted so easily. I was immediately on guard. I grabbed the gun in my pocket and held the trigger as I slowly opened the door. There was a giant figure in my room that spun around with a gun of his own. Dean?

“Where were you?” Dean was in my room, my separate motel room. We both put our guns away.

“What do you mean, ‘where’? And breaking into a lady’s room?” I couldn’t believe him. Maybe William was right. This felt toxic.

“I’m just asking. Where were you?”

“You have no right to ask me that.” I closed the door behind me. I dropped my bag on the bed and swiped at the lipstick Andrea had lent me. It was a bright dizzying shade of red. It didn’t even come close to the pinks I liked wearing. But the pay for the night had been good. 200 dollars for four hours wasn’t bad.

“Since when do you wear lipstick of that color?”

“Since today.” I walked into the bathroom and splashed water all over my face. The sink turned peach with the amount of concealer that dripped down my face. I pulled at my eyelashes, wincing as clumps of mascara stained my fingers black.

In the bathroom mirror, I spotted Dean make his way over with my makeup removing wipes in his hands. He passed me one and leaned against the sink as I worked the paint off my face. The concealer was the wrong colour, the blush was too deep, the mascara was too clumpy, the lipstick was too red, the eyeliner stung, and the blush just sucked.

“You look terrible.” Dean gently started wiping at my neck. I’d forgotten about the foundation on my neck. “It looks like Andrea’s makeup.”

“You mean your hookup’s?” I spat. “How do you even know her makeup shades, huh? She give you a tour of her bathroom when you were railing her?” I knew that wasn’t possible. Andrea had been at the bar, managing things.

“I was getting information. Sammy was with me the whole time. And that was earlier in the day.”

“Yeah, information like her number and the position she likes doing it in.” My jealousy was petty. It was stupid. We were working a case and I was letting my emotions take over. I blamed my period.

Dean ignored the remark. “The sheriff wouldn’t say anything so I went for the next best option. Andrea Barr. She was the wife of the other guy that died. Christopher Barr.”

“I know.”

Dean ran his hand down his face. “You know why I flirted with her.”

“I do.” I really did. I knew Dean wouldn’t leave me. When an attractive woman caught his eye, he would stare, but like me he would never make a move. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You haven’t answered where you went.”

“I was working. With Andrea. She runs a bar.”

“Huh, didn’t expect that career from her.” Dean wiped the last bit of makeup off from the back of my neck and threw all the used wipes into the trash can. “So what was that with that guy William?”

I felt embarrassment rise up my cheeks. I grabbed my nightgown from my bag. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

“It obviously wasn’t nothing.” Dean’s tone had gotten playful.

I pushed against him to get him out of the bathroom so I could change. “Dean, seriously, it was nothing–”

“You’re as red as a tomato.” Dean’s finger hooked under my chin. His right cheek had quirked up with his right lip in a lopsided smirk. Damn, he was smooth.

“I’m not…” I tried pushing him out again. “I just wanna change my clothes–”

“Not anything I haven’t seen before.” he ran his hands down my sides. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Fine then. I took off my top and went to pull my bra off.

“Wait, that’s not how I imagined this would go.” Dean groaned. “You’re supposed to unhook the thing by arching your back–”

“Are you trying to live out some wet fantasy you’ve had?” I laughed. “My hands can never find the hook. You know that.”

“Would it ever kill you to play along?” He leaned in.

His mouth covered mine and his arms wrapped around my waist. He pulled me impossibly close. My belt dug into my hips, almost painfully, but I had no room between our bodies to take it off. He was already on it though. His hands made quick work of the belt. He removed his mouth from mine to look over my shoulder. I knew exactly what he wanted. But…

“Dean,” I whispered against his neck as he played with my straps. “Not tonight–”

“Oh,” he stopped what he was doing. “Not in the mood?” I loved that low husky voice of his. It sent me to heaven every time.

“Well, I’m very much in the mood, but–”

“Oh God,” He reached his hand down to my butt. The scrunch of my pads echoed in the bathroom. “Seriously?”

Did he have to do it like that? I felt the blush spread all across my cheek. “I didn’t ask to bleed every month.”

“Yeah? Well, we can still do this right?”

He was kissing me again. The force of the kiss pushed me backwards. My knees hit the edge of the bathtub. I gasped. “Dean,” his hands held me up as he kissed me again. “Not the–” another kiss, “moldy bathtub–”

He picked me up by the thighs. But his lips never left mine. He only stopped once to lower me just enough that my head wouldn't hit the door frame when he carried me to the bed.

“We- we can’t go all the way–” I could barely catch my breath with how heated he got.

“Hey,” he brushed my hair away from my face, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s up to you,”

God, he got so much more attractive when he was being gentle and asking for consent. And how could I say no to those beautiful green eyes?

“Will my thighs do?”

 

“Are you two good?” Sam asked the next morning.

“Nothing better than make up sex.” Dean laughed. “Went all night.”

“Too much information.” Sam cringed.

“Dean, shut up. We’re going to talk to Andrea or what?”

Andrea was sitting in a park, watching the kids play.

“Can we join you?” Sam asked.

“I'm here with my son.”

“Oh. Mind if I say hi?” Dean walked curiously towards the kid.

“Tell your friend this whole Jerry Maguire thing is not gonna work on me.” Andrea shook her head.

“I don't think that's what this is about.” Sam told her. Andrea nodded like ‘sure’.

“It must be hard. Having to go through all that.” I said to her.

“Yeah,” Andrea gave me a tired smile. “You did awesome last night by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“So who’s the lucky guy?” Andrea’s eyes traveled to my ring. Well that took her long enough.

“It’s a secret.” I told her. “Has he gone to speech therapy?”

“We’ve tried everything. All kinds of therapists, but nothing seems to work.”

“I see that he likes to draw.”

“Yeah.” Andrea shook her head to dry her tears. “He keeps drawing this red bike. And I have no idea what that means.”

“What are the Doctors saying?” Sam asked gently.

“That it's a kind of post-traumatic stress.” Andrea sniffled.

“That can't be easy. For either of you.”

“We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just...when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…”

“Kids are strong. You'd be surprised what they can deal with.” Dean had come back.

“You know, he used to have such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. Now he just sits there. Drawing those pictures, playing with those army men. I just wish–” Lucas interrupted her by running up to us with a picture. “Hey, sweetie.”

Lucas handed Dean the picture. Dean knelt down to his level and accepted it. He looked so happy, talking to the kid, fist bumping, hugging him. All things we couldn’t have.

 

“So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie.” Sam said, walking into the room. William had a good laugh when we told him we were switching to two queens.

“What do you mean?” Dean took a swig from his second beer bottle of the day.

“I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead.” Sam dropped the food he got on the table. I immediately grabbed my own burger from the pile, before it could be stolen by the one man in the room who inhaled burgers.

“He drowned? At home?”

In the sink.

“In the sink.”

“What the hell? So you're right, this isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else.”

“Yeah, but what?”

I held my hands up. I couldn’t tell them it was a spirit that was attached to the lake.

Dean sighed. “Water wraith, maybe? Some kind of demon? I mean, something that controls water...water that comes from the Same source.”

“The lake. Which would explain why it's upping the body count. The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, whatever it wants, it's running out of time.”

“And if it can get through the pipes, it can get to anyone, almost anywhere.”

Yeah, now I couldn’t go in the bathroom without fearing for my life.

“This is gonna happen again soon.”

“And we do know one other thing for sure. We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton.”

“Yeah, it took both his kids.”

“And I've been asking around. Lucas's dad, Chris, was Bill Carlton's godson.”

“Alright, Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit.”

 

The visit to Mr. Carlton’s house was useless. The man was too distraught to talk after losing both his kids in the past few days. I’d only managed to get one tiny sniffle out of him, and that was that.

Dean pulled out the picture that Lucas had given him.

“That’s the Carlton house right?” Sam asked. He lifted the picture up to compare it with the house we were standing right next to. “Maybe Bill’s not the only one who knows something.”

Our next stop was Andrea’s house.

“Hey,” I smiled when she opened the door. “We were wondering if we could talk to Lucas about what he saw that day.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Yeah, any good mother would say that.

“Ijust need to talk to him.” Dean insisted.

“Please, it could help explain and solve what’s doing this to so many people. Will Carlton also passed away and we think that whatever Lucas knows is key to preventing further deaths.”

Andrea nodded slowly. “But he won’t say anything. What good is talking to him gonna do? It’ll just make him worse—”

“If it helps, then I used to work with special needs children before this job. I’ll go in with Dean and make sure that everything is good. Would you like to wait outside the door in case that helps?”

Andrea thought about it for a bit before sighing. “Yes, but keep the door open so I can come in.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Sam and Andrea waited outside the door when Dean and I walked into Lucas’ room. I busied myself with the artwork on the walls while Dean sat down on the floor with Lucas.

“Hey, Lucas. You remember me?”

Lucas continued with his coloring. More red bikes. They looked exactly like the one Dean and Sam would later dig out of the ground near the sheriff’s house.

“You know, I, uh, I wanted to thank you for that last drawing. But the thing is, I need your help again.” Dean handed Lucas the previous drawing of the Carlton house. “How did you know to draw this? Did you know something bad was gonna happen? Maybe you could nod yes or no for me.”

Good tactic. But it wasn’t gonna work.

You’re scared. It’s okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared too.” Sam shifted uneasily at the doorway. “I didn’t feel like talking, jut like you. But see, my mom— I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.” Lucas kept coloring. Huh, wasn’t he supposed to give Dean the picture by now?

“Ask him to draw it for you. It’s his preferred method of talking so let him.” I suggested.

Lucas shot me a glance and handed one of his drawings to Dean.

“Thanks, Lucas.” Dean straightened up.

We thanked Andrea once more and got in the car.

“Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died.” Dean said.

“There are cases where going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions and psychic tendencies.”

Did these cases include getting telekinetic powers? Or did some demon drip blood into my mouth too?

No demon blood in you, child.

Well, that was good to know. At this point, I’d stopped being surprised at the Angel popping into my head randomly. Dean and Sam’s conversation faded in the background.

Your powers are something different.

Was I born with them?

Yes.

But then how was I not whipping people around back in my world?

Because magic, and the supernatural didn’t exist there.

Huh. I guess that made sense.

You were able to lucid dream, correct?

Yeah, but everyone could if they tried.

Never as easily as you.

“Sharon!” I jumped at the sudden call. “Can you hear me, sweetheart?”

“What? Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” I shook my head. The Angel was gone.

“Was the voice talking to you again?” Sam asked. I couldn't say yes, but the brothers got the right idea. “No problem. You just looked like you were in a daze like back at the hospital so we got worried.”

“Yeah, I’m good. No worries. So, um, we’re going to the yellow house by the Church?”

“Yep,” Dean pressed the gas harder.

 

“We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am.” Dean cleared his throat. “But does a little boy live here, by chance? He might wear a blue ball cap… has a red bicycle?”

“No, sir.” The old lady whispered. “Not for a very long time. Peter’s been gone for 35 years now.”

Peter Sweeney, the boy that the sheriff and Bill Cliton killed.

“The police never-“ she wiped her tears. “They never had any idea what happened.” Her sorrow filled eyes met mine. “He just disappeared.”

Sam pointed out toy soldiers to Dean. I stayed with Mrs. Sweeney as she cried over her son’s death. “Losing him- you know, it’s… it’s worse than dying.”

“I understand.”

She held my hand as she cried. “I don’t care that it’s been 35 years— I just want justice for my son!”

“Of course, ma’am.” I let her cry. “We will do our best.”

“Did he disappear from here? I mean, from this house?” Dean questioned.

“I remember it as clear as day. He was supposed to ride his bike straight home after school, and he never showed up.”

Dean lifted a picture from the table. “Peter Sweeney and Billy Carlton, 1970.” He turned the photo to show me and Sam. If I remembered correctly, if we went to see Bill Carlton now, then we would be charged with possessing fake IDs and investigated for being on the scene when the spirit took Bill. I had to keep the bys far from it.

“Can we grab something before going to Bill Carlton’s house?” I told the boys. It wasn’t like I could save Bill if he was riding off in a motor boat.

“It’s unusual for you to be hungry this time of the day.” Dean grinned. “We should have time for a quick snack.”

 

And so I was sitting in the car with an ice cream in hand, one I wasn’t going to finish because I was full in reality. I’d managed to stall just long enough for Dean to realise that we’d been made.

“Police are looking for us.” Dean mumbled as he started backing out of the scene. Ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks. Someone had called 911. And police cars meant the sheriff who had it out for anyone that went digging around his business. He was already staring at our car as we hightailed it out of there.

“Are we just gonna pack up and go?” Sam stared as I locked the door behind us.

Hopefully, the police didn’t have a warrant to go searching our motel room.

Someone unlocked our door. The three of us immediately reached for our guns. “Hey, it’s just me, William.” William held his hands up. “Just asking— Are you guys in trouble? For impersonating government officials?”

Uhhh…

Dean had his gun aimed at the young man. He threateningly stepped closer. “You wanna sell us out?”

“Hey don’t worry. You guys have been more than entertaining for me.” William laughed nervously. “I just came by to tell you guys to stay quiet. The police will be here shortly— I’m gonna tell them you guys left. They think you’re still in the other two rooms because our system takes 24 hours to update.”

“And you’re helping us because…?” Sam lowered his gun.

“Look. This is the happiest I’ve seen Lucas since that even with Chris. Whatever it is you guys are doing, I know it’s to help. And Andrea tells me that too. So, just in good faith, alright?”

Sirens wailed outside. “So… I’m gonna go give them the other keys… and tell them you guys skedaddled a few minutes ago. Just— be quiet— and don’t bring any dead bodies inside. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean refused to lower his gun until William had left. “Start packing. In case he’s lying. We’re leaving through the window.”

The three of us started clearing up the room in case William decided to rat us out. We heard the police barge in, but they never walked into ours. A couple of hours later, the police were gone. William knocked on our door to tell us that the coast was clear.

“The kid really helped us.” Dean mused.

“He’s a good guy.” Sam nodded.

“I think I’m gonna grab a beer.” Dean stretched his arms.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam grabbed his jacket. “Sharon, you coming?”

“Too tired. I think I’ll chill instead. Besides, surely the police are looking for us. How often do you see two men with one woman? It’s better for the two of you to go. Get me a coke though.”

“Anything else for my lady?”

“Nope.”

My phone suddenly rang. I reached into my pocket and fished it out. ‘Andrea Barr’.

Maybe she needs help at the bar tonight? But that made no sense. Surely her dad told her about us. I picked up the phone anyway. Nothing. There was silence on the other end. “Andrea?”

Nothing.

Oh. “Lucas?” Lucas banged on a door. “Alright, Lucas. Listen to me. I’ll be right there, okay?”

This was the Andrea drowning scene. I grabbed my jacket and ran outside. Andrea lived a few streets away. I could get there on foot faster than if Dean turned around and got stuck at a red signal.

I pressed his name on my phone. He picked up on the first ring. “Dean,”

“Did something happen? You’re out of breath. What’s wrong?”

“Andrea’s house.” I said in between breaths. I jumped when a car’s headlights shone right in my face. It honked loudly, but I had places to be. “Lucas called. She needs help.”

“And you chose to run to her place?” Dean yelled. “We’ll be right there— don’t do anything stupid.”

“When have I ever done that?” I held back a laugh.

“We’ll be there in five!” I heard Sam yell.

“Great. I’ll be inside.” I hung up as I approached the house. Lucas was waiting on the doorstep, running around in a panic.

“Lucas!” I yelled to him. He had fear in his eyes. He stood up the second I got there and pushed the door open. He looked terrified. Poor thing.

He led me up the stairs to the master bathroom.

I could hear Andrea’s splashing through the door. “Andrea?!” I yelled, hoping for a response. Anything that would indicate her head was above the water.

Nothing. “I’m gonna break down the door!”

I backed up and ran into the door with my shoulder. The door wouldn’t budge. One more time. Okay, I could hear a crack. With a couple more hits, I stumbled through the broken door.

The water in the bathtub was black.

“Stand back Lucas.” I told the boy. He obediently stood right outside the bathroom, but watching with tears in his eyes.

Andrea’s splashing was starting to grow weaker. I was running out of time. And against all logic, I submerged my hands into the water. I grabbed something that felt like human skin. Hopefully, it was Andrea, and not the vengeful spirit. I pulled as hard as I could. I braced my feet against the tub that kept oozing black water. I tried pulling her up again. This time I managed to pull up her arm which I’d been holding onto. But that was barely enough leverage.

I switched my grip to holding her under the arm instead, and I felt her hair against my hand. Good. I managed to find her other arm through the murky water and let a smile slip in triumph. But it didn’t last long because the spirit only pulled harder. And now I was being pulled under along with her.

Like hell I was going to let that happen. But I was too weak to actually pull her up. She was dead weight in my arms, and that only meant double the effort in pulling her out. She wasn’t even kicking at this point. How long had she not been breathing? Was she dead? Was I too late?

My heart leapt into my throat when there were thundering footsteps on the stairs.

“Lucas!” Oh, thank God, it was just Sam. Sam was rubbing Lucas’ back as the boy burst into tears. “We’re gonna get your mother out, okay?”

I was starting to lose strength in my arms. And Andrea was starting to slip. Fighting with a spirit wasn’t exactly a walk in the park no matter how many times I did it. Dean rushed next to me and stuck his arms under the water too. His hands were over mine as he got a good grip on her.

“Pull!” Dean grunted, and I gave it my all. She finally broke free with our combined strength. Andrea had gone unconscious. But the spirit in the water wasn't done. It kept overflowing from the bathtub, and only gave up once we had Andrea back out in the hallway. Lucas raced towards her with a towel and wrapped her up.

“That-that sucked!” I collapsed on the hallway floor. But hey, Andrea was still alive. She was coughing up water as Sam gave her back blows.

 

By the time Andrea was stable enough to talk about what had happened, it was already dawn.

“Can you tell us?” Sam asked softly.

“No,” Andrea shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense.” She started crying. “I’m going crazy.”

“No you’re not.” Sam reassured. “Tell us what happened. Everything.”

“I-I heard— I thought I heard… There was this voice.”

“What did it say?”

“It-it said… ‘come play with me’.” Andrea sobbed. “What’s happening?”

Dean showed me a scrapbook he found. “Jake - 12 years old.” He read to me. He lowered the scrapbook so I could see it too. He flipped through the pages and paused at a very specific photo. “That’s Peter,” He pointed to a boy in the picture. He turned to Andrea. “Do you recognise the kids in these pictures?”

“What?” Andrea stammered as she squinted at the pictures. “Um, no. I mean, except that’s my dad right there. He must have been about 12 in these pictures.”

Sam and Dean stared at each other.

”So Chris Barr’s drowning. The connection wasn’t to Bill Carlton. It must have been the sheriff.”

“Bill and the Sheriff,” Sam corrected. “They were both involved with Peter.”

“What about Chris?” Andrea looked at the three of us with wide eyes. “My dad— what are you talking about?”

“Lucas, what is it?” Dean suddenly said.

Lucas had run off to the window. “Lucas!” Andrea ran after him as he left through the door.

Lucas suddenly stopped at the entrance to the woods. The bike.

I grabbed Sam and headed for the car where our shovels were.

“Shovels?” Sam frowned at the sight of the equipment I was dragging out of the back. “What’re we digging?”

A red bike. But of course I couldn’t say that. “We’re digging. Can you grab a shovel for Dean too?”

“Yeah,”

We ran back to where Dean was examining the spot where Lucas had led us to. “Digging?” Dean groaned. “Is there some corpse buried here or something?”

A corpse of a bike, maybe. I forced the shovel into the ground. Great, we were digging up things even when we weren’t on a salt and burn.

“Got something!” Sam said. His shovel hit something metallic.

The two brothers got busy scraping the dirt away from what. They had hit and they pulled out the red bicycle together.

“Peter’s bike.” Sam stared at the rusty red thing.

“Who are you?” Someone suddenly said.

We turned around to see the sheriff pointing a gun at us.

“Put the gun down Jake.” Sam dropped his shovel. Dean and I followed suit.

“How did you know that was there?”

“What happened?” Dean scoffed. “You and Bill killed Peter, drowned him in the lake and then buried the bike? You can’t bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The sheriff said blatantly.

“You and Bill killed Peter Sweeney thirty five years ago.” Dean repeated. “That’s what the hell I’m talking about. And now you got one seriously pissed off spirit.”

“Dad!” Andrea ran up behind us. No, that meant that Lucas was alone. I tried to slip away from the group, but the sheriff shot at my feet.

“Hey!” Dean yelled in anger. Sam shifted till he covered me.

“Andrea! Don’t leave Lucas alone!” I shouted at her. But she was too shocked by the accusations being thrown at her father.

“It’s gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It’s gonna drown them. And it’s gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter’s mom felt.” Sam tried to reason with the guy. But of course it wasn’t going to work.

“Yeah, and how do you know that?” The sheriff laughed.

Bastard.

“Because that’s exactly what it did to Bill Carlton.”

“Listen to yourselves. You’re insane.”

“I don’t really give a rat’s ass what you think of us. But if we’re gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust.” Dean spat. “Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn’t just let him go in the lake.”

He let him go in the lake.

“Dad, is any of this true?” Andrea was in tears.

“No. Don’t listen to them. They’re liars and they’re dangerous.”

“Something tried to drown me! Chris died on that lake— Dad, look at me!”

The sheriff turned in her direction.

“Tell me you didn’t kill anyone!”

The sheriff looking away was all the confirmation Andrea needed. “Oh my God.”

“Andrea, you need to go grab Lucas now!” I repeated.

But the sheriff chose to confess, keeping Andrea trapped in the conversation. I couldn’t run after Lucas either, because the damn sheriff wouldn’t put his gun away.

“Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time, it got rough. We were holding his head under the water. We didn’t mean to. But we held him under. Too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank.”

Dean glanced at me and Sam. The spirit was not gonna be put to rest until the dam was gone. And no matter how good of Hunters we were, breaking a dam was pretty impossible.

We have to get Lucas!” Dean yelled.

But in true Hollywood fashion, the sheriff and Andrea ignored our cries. All the while, Lucas was wandering closer and closer to the lake.

“Oh, Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost? It’s not rational!”

Lucas was right at the edge of the water

Okay, I’d had enough. “Will you guys just listen to me for one second?! This is important! Lucas!”

Andrea finally snapped out of her stupor and looked at the boy whose feet had touched the water.

“Lucas! Baby, stay where you are!” Andrea screamed.

She and the sheriff were starting to get ready to jump into the water.

“Hold them back!” I yelled to the brothers. “I’ll get Lucas!”

“Can she even swim?!” The sheriff yelled. “If it wants me, then let it kill me! Leave my grandson alone!”

Maybe the sheriff did have some heart in him. I took off my jacket and threw it on the muddy bank.

‘Come play with me’, said the voice of a young boy. The voice reverberated throughout the lakeside. Peter Sweeney. That was the kid who they’d drowned. The voice was eery, and my heart raced in the feeling I’d learned to call fear.

“Peter!” I yelled into the lake. “Peter! Stop!”

But of course he wouldn’t. I grabbed Lucas before he could wade further than chest deep water.

“Lucas!” I pulled at him by the arms. “Don’t listen to it! Listen to me!”

The spirit had Lucas in a stupor. And it was pulling Lucas in by the legs.

“Peter! You don’t have to do this!” I fought against the spirit. “We’ll make sure that the sheriff- Jake- is punished, okay! You don’t have to take an innocent little boy!”

And of course, the spirit didn’t listen. It continued pulling him down. But unlucky for him, I was a strong swimmer myself.

I heard the people on shore yell as Lucas and I got dragged underwater. But not for long. With Lucas being practically weightless thanks to the gallons of water pushing his body up, and my years of swimming, I was able to break the surface with him.

Only to be yanked down under again. I forced my eyes to open underwater and I spotted a ghostly pale young boy covered in seaweed pulling on Lucas’ legs. With everything I had, I smacked the spirit in the face and swam back up.

Alright. All those lifeguarding courses and what did I learn about bringing an injured person to shore? Put them in a back float position, wrap your arm around their neck and swim to shore. What did I learn about bringing an injured person to shore when there was a freaking ghost chasing you and trying to drag said injured person back into the water? Nothing! They should start adding that into their lifeguard courses. Hear, hear, Red Cross!

My fastest stroke being back stroke was coming back to bite me. I couldn't swim to safety with an unconscious Lucas on my back. That would be suicide. So I kicked as hard as I could. The bank was just in sight. The four on land were yelling.

“Behind you!” Sam and Dean yelled together.

I turned around just in time to kick back the spirit one more time.

I was cold, so cold. The adrenaline was starting to wear off. My legs were growing heavier and each stroke took more energy than the one before. But. I had a kid to save.

Obviously, the spirit had a kid to kill. Once more, it pulled on Lucas. “Peter!” I yelled. Hopefully it would work. I had to try. Dean was in the water, swimming towards us while Sam held back the sheriff and Andrea. But Dean would never make it here in time. “If you kill Lucas, then that makes you just as bad as Jake!” The spirit’s hold loosened ever so slightly. I kept going. “You don’t want that do you?! Don’t turn into a monster like he did! Leave the innocent kid alone!” The spirit stopped pulling but the murkiness in the water remained. “I promise you, Jake will be punished. He will lose everything he has ever had. He will lose his house. He will lose his job. He has already lost the trust of his family. Letting a prideful scheming man like him rot in jail is a way worse fate than dying.”

The black in the water soon faded, and I felt Lucas finally stop being pulled downward. The spirit was gone. For the time being at least, and it was time to get him to safety.

“Sharon,” I saw Dean swim over. “I’ll take the kid.”

I could only nod and let Dean take over Lucas. I was too exhausted to correct the way Dean pulled Lucas over to land. It didn’t even matter. We were all safe. Including the killer sheriff who surprisingly had a semi decent heart when it came to his family. That’s what really mattered.

Andrea and Jake were crying over Lucas’ unconscious body. And Dean was calling 911 to report an unconscious half drowned boy while slipping into his own jacket.

“Here,” Sam helped me wrap up in my jacket, and offered me his too. It was, like, ten sizes too big, but it was warm, much warmer than mine. It smelled like him too. An aftershave that Dean loved stealing and those cheap buy-2-get-1-free colognes from Gas-n-Sips.

“Don’t do that again.” Dean pointed at me.

“Do what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, like jumping into a lake with a spirit in it that’s actively trying to kill a kid!”

I looked towards Sam for support. He usually agreed with me if it meant saving people.

To my shock, he wasn’t in support of me. “I kind of agree with him on this one. Sharon. That was reckless.”

“I’m pretty much a swim coach.”

“There was a vengeful spirit in the water!”

“Well, I calmed it down, didn’t I! And I saved the two people that it wanted!”

“By almost dying yourself!” Dean protested.

“He’s right.” Sam shook his head. “That was stupid.”

What the hell? I save a kid and that’s their reaction? Seriously? As I stood up angrily, I felt a heavy weight in my jeans.

Oh, fuck. I’d completely forgotten in the chaos of the moment.

“Can we get back to the motel please?” I asked sheepishly.

Dean looked around. “As soon as I make sure the kid is okay.”

“Then Sam can drive me back.”

“I can, but what’s the hurry?”

“I forgot I was wearing pads.”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

“I know.”

 

“Thanks for the tip!” William said as we headed out.

“Thanks for the help.” I waved him goodbye as we threw our bags into the car.

It was a happy ending. Jake the sheriff had his life screwed over. Lucas and Andrea were alive. And the killings were going to be gone for good once the construction started today. It didn’t get better than that.

“You’re still never doing that again.” Dean reminded me.

“Sam, Dean, Sharon.”

“Andrea.” I smiled as she walked up.

“We're glad we caught you.” She looked shy. “We just, um, we made you lunch for the road. It’s not much, but–”

“Free food is good food.” Dean grinned.

“I’m sure they’re great.” I looked at the tray of sandwiches Lucas was carrying. I hated sandwiches. But I could enjoy a gift.

“Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself.” Andrea said with pride.

“Can I… give it… now…?” Lucas’ speech was slow, but vastly improved since last night.

“Of course.” Andrea kissed his forehead.

“Come on Lucas, you wanna help me load them in the car?” Dean invited the boy to check out the Impala. Yeah, he would make a great dad.

“How you holding up?” Sam asked.

“It's just gonna take a long time to sort through everything, you know?” Andrea blinked her tears away. “Dad loves me. He loves Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold on to that.”

Sam frowned when he saw Dean climbing into his usual seat. “What’s he doing over there?” He went around the car to yell at his brother. Idiots.

“You’re a woman of many talents.” Andrea suddenly said. “You should stop holding yourself to such small regard.”

“Huh?”

“The lucky man is Dean, right?” She smiled. “When he was walking with me, you were all he would talk about.”

Oh, on the first day. “Yeah, well. He’s kind of out of my league. I still don’t know why he proposed.”

“Like I said. You should stop holding yourself to such small regard. It’ll consume you.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.” She had no idea. Insecurities were a pain. And I had a lot of them. No matter what anyone said, it was hard to see myself on the same level of charisma as Dean. But seriously, if I was a ‘freak’, then why was he still with me?

“Zeppelin rules!” came the sudden cry.

Andrea and I both jumped. Lucas, Dean, and a disgruntled Sam were doing a weird cheer for Led Zeppelin. No doubt, it was Dean’s idea.

“That's right. Up high.” Dean held up his hand for a high five. Lucas leapt and managed to hit it.

“You two would make good parents.” Andrea said softly.

I had nothing to say. With our lives, I doubted we would. Hunters starting families wasn’t unheard of, but they never really flourished. They were never happy. Once you were in the life, you couldn’t get out. Even if you did get out for a few years and started a family, it would come to bite back, and it was always the children that suffered. Starting a family would just continue that cycle, and I couldn’t take the risk. Neither could Dean.

“You take care of your mom, okay?” Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. He opened the door and motioned for me to get in. “Get in, or we're gonna run out of daylight before we hit the road.”

I opened the car door. “Well, that’s goodbye I guess.” I got in the car as Dean brought her to life. “Thanks for the sandwiches.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “Thanks for everything!” she and Lucas yelled as we drove away.

Notes:

Resources used: https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6563
Her emotions this chapter ended up reflecting my own mood swings from this week lol. iykyk. I started Season 10, and OH MY GOD DEAN WTH. I find it interesting how Dean is only shown to have skills when he's being ruthless with his enemies and the Mark is keeping his morals at bay. Like you're telling me that Dean can fight off three demons single handedly, but he just doesn't want to because his brother is next to him? I might be interpreting it wrong, but that's my take on the situation. Also Deanmon is hot. They should keep the hairstyle and the shaved face for the rest of the series, but good things never last long do they? T_T

Chapter 10: Phantom Traveller

Summary:

If they thought this was big, then what would they think of the things they would have to deal with in the future. I wished I could tell them all the information I had. My memories of the later seasons were fading with time. I couldn’t write down anything thanks to the thing in my head, and there was no one I could talk about this to either.

I was, quite literally, trapped in bed. I’d heard Sam get up and slip out of the motel room to get breakfast after a quick shower, and I wanted to join him for the trip too. But with a snoring Dean nuzzled against my chest and my need to sleep 10 hours a day for optimum levels of function, I didn’t want to get up.

I ran my hands through my sleeping husband’s hair. Without the hair gel, his hair flopped down to frame his face. His eyelashes were the same dirty blond shade. And his eyelids hid my favorite shade of green. The stubble on his cheeks were prickly, a manly contrast to his baby soft skin. His nose was adorable too. His nose bridge was high and it used to be straight. Until he’d gotten it broken while we were hunting a wraith and he had gotten it smashed against a wall while he was trying to protect a couple of kids. Now there was the slightest bend in it that you wouldn’t even notice unless you were looking for it.

I trailed my hands down to his shoulders. They were so much larger than mine. His muscles strained against his T shirt and man, that was a sight to see. I let my hands travel down to his biceps. Huge. I couldn’t encircle them even if I used both my hands. They were wrapped around me, keeping me in place, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t get out even if I wanted to, I just didn’t want to. The muscles in his stomach were solid too. He definitely had a 6 pack despite his addiction to drinking a 6 pack everyday.

I closed my eyes and let myself soak in this warmth. It wasn’t very often that we got time to ourselves. Dean was a family man who was always pining for his brother. And I just liked being left alone. Even when we went to bars together, he would be chatting with the person sitting on his other side while I awkwardly held onto my glass of soda. Our worlds rarely collided, with my favorite place in the world being a corner of the library or my bedroom and Dean’s being a car dealership or the garage. Yet, I found peace in his extroverted demeanor. It was comforting, the way he would take over social situations for me, but leave enough room for me to join in if I ever wanted to.

I loved him. I loved him so much. I wanted to hold him close and protect him from all the sadness in the world, from all the painful events that were going to come in his life. I wanted to show him that his happiness didn’t have to equate to the happiness of others. It was okay for him to be a little more selfish. A little more greedy. I wished he would ask me for sex more often. I wished he would ask me to do the laundry a little more. I wished he would ask me for anything.

I kissed his forehead. It was still smooth. But if he kept worrying like he did, then it wouldn’t be long before it was all wrinkly. I wanted him to be happy. I wanted him to get wrinkles from old age, not stress.

My throat felt swollen as I felt like crying for the man I was tangled up with. I buried my nose in his hair and inhaled. It smelled like my coconut shampoo. For a man who claimed to be so manly he sure loved the hair products I used. The scent was relaxing, and I felt a tear roll down my cheek. All his pain. If I could just take it all away.

“Mm…” Dean stirred. “Oh, sweetheart…” He lifted his head from my chest and kissed my lips softly. “You’re a sight to see,” He opened his eyes. “Where’s Sammy?” His voice was still rough from sleep.

“Breakfast.” I couldn’t help but smile when he rolled his eyes. “G’morning.”

“Morning.” he frowned. “What time is it?” He lifted his head up enough to glance at the clock on the nightstand on my side. “5:40? Dammit,” He settled back in bed, trapping me against him once more.

I should have been getting ready to get up and take the shower before Dean used up all the hot water. But I didn’t have enough energy to roll out and actually get ready for the day. And he was right next to me anyway. We both relaxed against each other.

Until the doorknob twisted.

Dean immediately stiffened and reached for the gun under our pillows. I knew it was Sam just from the footsteps outside the door. But I remained wary just in case.

“Morning, sunshines.” Sam mocked.

“Where does the day go?” Dean released me from his hold along with the gun.

“I’m taking the bathroom first.” I slid out of the warm blankets into the cold air of the motel room.

“Dammit.” Dean grumbled before flopping back in bed.

 

When I got out, Dean and Sam were sitting with grim faces.

“My turn I guess.” Dean stood up.

“You two good?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah.” But Sam looked like he was going through things.

“You wanna talk about something?”

He paused. “Dean said he doesn’t get scared. Of this. Of everything. Do you?”

Fear was a constant accompaniment ever since I’d landed in this place. But I wasn’t going to tell Sammy that. Communication may be the way to avoid all problems, but… Sammy didn’t need two paranoid people with him… Those stupid puppy dog eyes that begged for answers ended up winning.

“I do.”

“Then how do you do it? Dean won’t even admit it.”

“I don’t know, Sammy.” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. “I just do it.”

“How do you sleep?” He continued anyway.

“Pretty deep.” I joked. His face said that he wasn’t too fond of the answer. “Okay, fine. I have my gun under my pillow. So does Dean. and I have a silver knife on the nightstand. But you already know about those.”

“I meant– how do you fall asleep?” Man, he was persistent.

“Having Dean next to me is some comfort.” I confessed. “Like, he has my back. When you came in through that door, he had the gun before I even considered my knife. It helps, Sammy. Knowing someone is out there. Someone that cares for me no matter what.” Sam’s lips pressed into a line. “It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner. Remember when we were younger? I was still adjusting to everything. Coming to terms with the idea that the darkness beyond the bathroom door could actually hurt me wasn’t very easy. I used to be able to sleep because Bobby was there. Not even in the same room. Some days he would be on the couch, sometimes in his bed. But just knowing that he was there looking out… it helped.”

“I… I also slept better when I was on your top bunk. Or when Dean was in the other bed– but the nightmares–”

“They still happen.” I fixed my jacket. “You just have to live with them.”

“Oh,” Sam looked down sadly.

“Sorry. I don’t have a better answer.”

“It’s fine. Thanks. I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s affected by all of this.”

“New case!” Dean shouted, bursting from the bathroom with just a towel around his waist.

Sam and I both turned around so we weren’t looking at his naked glory. “Put some pants on!” we cried.

 

Sam I sat on either side of Dean as he talked on the phone.

“Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?... What is it?”

Dean glanced at the two of us. We were on the move.

 

“Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean, Sharon, and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry shook all three of our hands. I remembered this guy. I had no idea he was the Jerry that ended up on the plane case.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked politely.

“Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.” A random worker laughed as he passed by.

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking.” Jerry barked. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. How’s work been, Sharon? The kids still brats?”

“Well, they’re always brats. But they’re a joy. School’s out for a few days. So I joined Dean and Sam on this case.” I lied. He was a sweet man, but Dean had asked us to keep the fact that John was missing a secret, and I wasn’t about to argue with that. The less people that knew, the better.

“Oh yeah, Sam! Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”

“Yeah, I was. I'm, uh, taking some time off.” Sam laughed nervously.

“Whole family’s on break?” Jerry chuckled. “Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now.” Dean cut in.

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?”

“No, not by a long shot.” Sam said quietly.

Oh, Sammy. He had no idea how much of a help he was. “He’s pretty good. Don’t let his words fool you.” I smiled.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, what’s the situation?”

Jerry grew grim. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

We walked into Jerry’s office where I dragged a chair inside for myself. “I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley.” Jerry found the CD and put it in the drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

I leaned in to hear the grainy noise of the CD. When was sound going to improve?

“Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! 2485-immediate instruction… may be experiencing some mechanical failure…” and it ended with a loud whooshing sound.

There was something else in the background though. Sam would manage to figure out what it was later. I just had to make sure he sat down to play around with the audio.

Jerry’s voice shook ever so slightly as he continued explaining the situation. “Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don’t think it was?” Sam asked.

“No, I don’t.” Jerry shook his head.

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors.”

“All right.”

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean asked.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… fellas…” Jerry sighed. “The NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” I was dying to break out that suit anyway.

 

“What’re you reading?” I jumped when Sam peered over my shoulder.

“Whoah,” I snapped the book shut. “Nothing good.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I side eyed him before giving him a watered down version of the book. “So there’s this girl. And she gets kidnapped by a biker mafia rich older professor – he’s super hot by the way – and her childhood friend is trying to save her. Except the professor is also her stepbrother and her sister has her eyes on the childhood friend and won’t let him save her.”

“What?!” Sam took a minute to process the information with a scowl. “Isn’t that incest? And illegal?”

“They’re not related by blood and she’s 20. He’s 40, but you know, it’s legal.”

“But if they’re step siblings then how did he kidnap her?”

“He told their parents that he was taking her to a summer retreat.” I shrugged.

“And the sister is in love with the childhood friend but the childhood friend is in love with the main character?”

“Yep,” I opened up the book again and continued reading. “I’ll let you know who she ends up with.”

“You… you don’t have to.” Sam shuddered. Hah. I’d successfully traumatised another one. “Dean, what took you so long?”

I looked up from my book as he approached the two of us.

“You can’t rush perfection.” He flashed us the three badges he’d made. Sam and I took our respective ones.

“Homeland Security?” Sam turned around his ID to check the back. I did the same. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.” Dean had a point. We filed into the car.

“Will the suit I packed even cover Homeland Security? I thought they wore police vests and stuff.” I leaned to the front seat. I should grab my bike from Bobby’s if I ever was in the area.

“Should work. They don’t wear vests all the time. Alright, Sam, what do you got?”

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, listen.”

We all listened closely. Sam had edited the audio to where the noise in the background was now audible and intelligible. ‘No survivors!’ the scratchy voice echoed. Shivers ran down my spine. That was creepy.

“‘No survivors’? What's that supposed to mean?” Dean stared at the laptop as if it might contain the answers. “There were seven survivors.”

“Got me.” Sam shrugged. He looked towards me for an answer. I couldn’t say anything of course. He sighed and turned to look at Dean. “Well, what are we thinking?”

“A haunted flight?”

“Could be. There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement.

“Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“Right.”

“Yep.”

“Maybe we got a similar deal.”

“All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?” Dean looked at the two of us.

“Third on the list: Max Jaffey.” Sam pointed to his name.

“Why him? He’s not even first on the list.”

“Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did.” Sam grinned.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, Sharon and I spoke to his mother. And she told us where to find him.” Sam rattled off the address to the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.

“Okay then,” Dean started Baby. “Here we go.”

 

We’d managed to find Max and joined him for his routine walk in the garden.

“I-I-I don't understand.” He stammered. “I-I already spoke with Homeland Security.”

“Right. Some new information has come up. So if you could just answer a couple questions…” Dean pulled out his notepad for pretense.

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam asked.

“Like what?”

“Like anything.” I cut in. I didn’t want to drag out this conversation any longer than necessary. “Literally, anything. Whatever you think you saw.”

“There is no way what I saw makes sense.” the man laughed incredulously. “That’s why I checked myself in here– I must be going crazy.”

“Mr. Jaffey.” I insisted. “We need details. We don’t care how improbable or impossible it sounds. We need to know. Anything at all. Whatever you saw. Exactly what you saw.”

The man remained silent for a moment before hobbling with his cane to a nearby bench. He sat down and took a deep breath before speaking. “There was… this- this man. And, uh, he had these… eyes – these, uh… black eyes. And I saw him – or I thought – I saw him…”

“What?” Dean leaned in closer.

“He opened the emergency exit. But that's… that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah.” Dean nodded.

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam urged him to talk more.

But Max Jaffey thought of him as crazier than himself instead. “What are you, nuts?” Sam tilted his head curiously. “He was a passenger.” Jaffey scoffed. “He was sitting right in front of me.”

 

“George Phelps, seat 20C.” I hummed as we got out of the car in front of a quaint house.

“Man, I don't care how strong you are.” Dean shook his head. “Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.”

“Not if you're human.” Sam pointed out. “But maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form.”

Try possession. I wanted to say.

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean scoffed.

We rang the doorbell, showed the man’s wife our badges, and sat down on the couch in the living room.

“This is your late husband?” Sam looked at a framed picture. It was a perfectly ordinary, skinny, middle aged man standing next to a perfectly ordinary, skinny, middle aged woman. They were as ordinary as you could get. No offense.

“Yes, that was my George.” Mrs. Phelps choked on the statement.

“And you said he was a… dentist?” Dean was skeptical.

She nodded. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” she just held herself from breaking into tears.

“How long were you married?” Sam questioned.

“Thirteen years.”

“In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well… uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

Well, that was not what we meant. But that just solidified the idea that he wasn’t exactly the one who opened the emergency exit. “Thank you so much for your time.” I stood up and the boys followed. “We will be in contact if anything else comes up.” We shook hands with her and left the house.

“I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense.” Sam said.

“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified.” Dean pulled out his phone and checked the address Jerry had texted him. “You know, what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage.” Dean gave me a lopsided smirk. “I finally get to see you in that new suit of yours.”

 

And once again we were flashing our fake badges to the security guard at the entrance. He squinted and analysed us for a good minute, before deciding that the badges looked legit enough, and let us in.

Wow. This place was huge. The airplane was in pieces and every piece had been placed in the exact way it had fallen. I wandered around the wing of the plane. They were huge. I felt so tiny next to them. And they were tall .

“What is that?” Sam frowned at the object in Dean’s hand.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.” Dean muttered as he walked around the warehouse.

“Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade.” Dean said proudly. I debated whether I should touch the broken engine of the plane. But I couldn’t leave any fingerprints…

“Yeah, I can see that.” Sam remarked.

“Sharon, over here.” Dean called. I headed over to where he was moving the EMF over a piece of the wreckage with yellow dust all over it. “Check out the emergency door handle.”

Sam got out a ziploc bag and started scraping off the yellow dust into it with one of the hairpins I kept in my pocket.

“Don’t give me that back.” I eyed my poor yellowed bobby pin. I would have to buy another set. Dammit.

The thuddering of several pairs of footsteps caught all our attention. The guys must have caught on. “Go, go.” I whispered to the boys and took off for the exit.

They were hot on my heels and we ran out. I could hear the door being slammed open as the men started searching. Damn. The adrenaline rush I got from this was crazy. My hands were sweaty and my heart was racing, but it lowkey felt fun! The alarm started blaring as we approached the giant gates that were chained close.

Shit. I couldn’t make my way over them without help.

Dean threw his suit jacket over the spikes on the top. “Sammy on the other side!” Dean guided us as Sam jumped over easily. “I’ll boost you up, sweetheart.”

I scrambled over the iron bars as Dean let me use his hands as footholds. I brought my legs over the covered spikes and balanced myself on the thin iron horizontal bar that ran across the top of the gates.

“Jump! I can catch you Sharon!” Sam held out his arms. Well, I trusted him. So I jumped down and I felt him catch me with his arms around my torso.

He grunted as I knocked the wind out of him. “Sorry, Sammy,” I winced in pain for him. He dropped me to my feet and gave me a quick once over for any wounds. But we had no time to waste. Dean had leapt over and grabbed his suit jacket and was leading us back to the car.

My legs ached as I made the final stretch and swung the door to the car open. I gasped when Dean started driving before I could even sit down. “That. Was. Crazy.” I panted in my seat, and the brothers burst into laughter.

 

We went back to Jerry’s office where we presented Jerry with our little ziploc bag. He put the yellow dust under a microscope to examine it. I already knew what it was though. Sulfur.

“This stuff is coated in sulfur,” Bingo. “Take a look for yourself.”

“YOU EFFING PIECE OF CRAP.” Someone yelled outside Jerry’s door.

“If you fellows will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire.” Jerry stomped out of the office and the door slammed close behind him.

Dean went over to the microscope to look at the yellow powder. “You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue.”

“Demonic possession?” Sam suggested. Exactly.

“It would explain how a mortal man would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.” Dean stepped aside for Sam to look through the microscope next. Great, now I wanted to check it out too.

“If the guy was possessed it’s possible.”

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?”

“You ever heard of something like this before?”

“Never.”

 

I walked back into the motel room with three take out bags, where Sam and Dean were poring over books and journals, trying to determine if it really was a demon. Sam was on his computer and Dean was trying to figure out some kind of connection between all the pictures and notes he’d stuck on the walls. I dropped lunch for the day on the table and started handing out everyone’s share.

“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it.” Sam said to no one in particular.

“Yeah, but none of them describe something like this.” Dean gestured towards the things he’d stuck in the wall.

“Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made.” Oh yeah. I’d forgotten over the years that demons tended to take on the beliefs of other cultures and countries other than just Christianity and the Bible. “One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean sat up as I passed him his box of burgers. “Thanks.” He dug in with a huge bite. How adorable. “All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?

“Yeah. You know, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this one?” Sam stared sadly at his laptop. I handed him his sad looking chicken salad. I wasn’t big on unhealthy cholesterol heavy burgers like Dean, but I also wasn’t enough of a health nut to live off of leaves with a milligram of chicken.

“I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.” Dean and Sam had no idea of the gigs they would take on over the years. If they thought this was big, then what would they think of the things they would have to deal with in the future. I wished I could tell them all the information I had. My memories of the later seasons were fading with time. I couldn’t write down anything thanks to the thing in my head, and there was no one I could talk about this to either. All I could do was to try and not forget major events and cases over the next 15 years. That is if I was even still here.

“Hey, Jerry.” Dean looked at me and Sam with a look that told us to be quiet for a bit. “Wha– Jerry, I’m sorry, what happened?… Where’d this happen?…” Dean motioned for a pen and paper. Sam handed it to me and I passed it onto Dean. “I’ll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We’ll catch up with you soon.” He put his phone down after that.

“Another crash?” Sam asked. Dean nodded.

“Where?” I asked too.

“Nazareth.”

 

Once again, we were in Jerry’s office.

“Sulfur?” Dean asked.

Jerry nodded.

“Well, that’s great.” Dean grimaced. “All right, that’s two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“With all due respect to Chuck,” Sam said gently. “If that’s the case, then this would be good news.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Chuck’s plane went down exactly 40 minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485.”

“40 minutes?” Jerry blinked in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It’s biblical numerology.” Dean explained. “You know, Noah’s Ark, it rained for 40 days. The number means death.”

“Sharon and I went back, and we found 6 plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly 40 minutes in.” I nodded at Sam’s comment. It had taken a bit of digging, but we had solid evidence from the released audios on the internet.

“Any survivors?” Dean asked.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP Said?”

“‘No survivors,’” Dean thought for a moment. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.” It took them long enough.

“Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” I said using my sweetest customer service voice. I hung up on the call and stretched in the back seat. “Blaire Sanderson and Dennis Holloway aren’t flying any time soon.”

“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker.” Dean hummed.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job.” Sam said as he looked at his notes.

“That sounds like just our luck.” Dean grumbled and sped up.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel.” Sam shook his head at Dean’s attempt at speeding up.

“Call Amanda's cell phone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass.” Dean slammed even harder on the accelerator, if that was even possible. Any faster and we might be the ones that started flying.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.” Sam sighed. “God, we’re never gonna make it.”

 

Surprise, surprise. We did make it. “We’re gonna need tickets. But keep trying her phone.” I told the boys and headed for customer support.

“Hi!” I forced on a smile as I approached the lady at the counter.

“Hi! How can I help you?”

“Um, we had a family emergency, and we kind of need to get a flight.”

“Oh, okay, and when are you planning to leave?”

“Immediately, hopefully. I-I already know which flight number– 424?”

“Ma’am– that flight has already started boarding, I cannot–”

“Please. It’s just three of us– and my father-in-law– he–” I let a tear drip down my face. “We-we just want to make it in time for his funeral–” Sorry John for killing you before your time. “I can’t express to you how important he was to us– Please. We can run to the gate?”

The lady looked at her coworker and picked up her phone. “Let me make a few calls and see if I can get you guys on the flight.”

“Hey!” Dean and Sam ran up to where I was standing. “Did you get a flight?”

“They’re working on it.” I nodded towards the woman who was frantically dialing numbers.

“We can get you guys on. The flight was supposed to leave at 8:00, but it got pushed back to 8:30 due to some issues. Would that be alright?” I nodded. “Can I have your card please?”

“Yeah, yeah!” I fumbled for my card and handed it to her.

With a few more buttons, she handed us our tickets. “Gate 13 will be down that way.”

The three of us made our way through the crowded airport, after passing security, somehow, but we made it to the gate in time.

Once we were on the plane, we were presented with a different problem.

Dean was sandwiched between me and Sam. I was enjoying the view from the window seat and Sam was enjoying the extra leg room in the aisle seat. Dean, though, was trembling in the middle. Poor guy.

“Just try to relax.” Sam grabbed one of Dean’s hands.

“Dean, we’re still on the ground. Just stay calm.” I took his other hand in mine.

Dean snatched his hands away in a panic. “Just shut up you two.” he was visibly shaking. Poor thing. My poor big scary adorable husband was scared of flying.

“You look adorable.” I whispered to him.

He fixed me with a glare that made me giggle and look away. I missed flying.

Dean started humming some song which made Sam turn his head. “You’re humming Metallica?” he snickered.

“Helps me calm down.” Dean said angrily. It was hard to hold back my laughter when the flight attendants went over the safety guidelines and Dean paid way too much attention with wide eyes.

When the plane took off, Dean ended up clenching my hand and Sam’s as he braced himself against his seat. I rubbed comforting circles with my thumb and that seemed to make him a little less tense.

“We got 32 minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it’s possessing, anyway, and perform a full on exorcism.” Sam noted.

“Yeah. On a crowded plane. That’s gonna be easy.” Dean took deep breaths.

“Just take it one step at a time, all right?” Sam leaned out to look up and down the aisle. “Now, who is it possessing?”

None of the passengers that’s what. It was the copilot.

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress.” Dean rambled.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up.” He caught a flight attendant’s attention and asked. “Excuse me, are you Amanda?”

The attendant looked a little awkward as she answered. “No, I’m not. But it will be the attendant standing right there.” She pointed to the back of the plane. I couldn’t see Amanda from where I was sitting, but by Sam’s expression I could tell he had figured out who she was.

“Oh, sorry. Thank you.”

“I’m gonna go get a read on her mental state.” Sam said, standing up. “What if she’s already possessed?”

“I brought holy water.” Dean started pulling out a flask with a Cross on it.

“No, more subtle.” Sam groaned.

“Christo then. She would react to the name of God, right?” I offered.

Sam nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

A couple of minutes later, Sam came back.

“So?” Dean looked up.

“So… she’s not possessed.” Sam sighed. “There’s nothing getting in her either. If it’s on the plane, it could be in anyone.”

Literally. Like the copilot speaking right now. The plane started shaking from turbulence. Had airplanes always been this shaky? Maybe it was because this plane was older than the ones I used to ride. Or maybe it was because the copilot was being possessed by a freaking demon.

“Come on! This can’t be normal!” Dean hissed.

“Hey, hey, it’s just a little turbulence.” Sam tried.

“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.”

“You’re acting like you’re four, Dean.” I tried to unfurl his fingers from the death grip he had on the armrests. “Calm down. Don’t demons take over the mentally weak? You gotta calm yourself down before it thinks you’re a possible host.”

“She’s right, Dean. Calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry I can't!”

“Yes, you can.”

“Dude, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping!”

“Dean. Just breathe, alright? Come on. You want me to breathe with you?”

“No, no, no.” he vehemently shook his head. He looked so cute even when he was scared.

But I had to keep him calm for now. “Come on, Dean.” He took slow deep breaths as he held my hand.

“I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.” Sam showed us the passage he found in a book.

“What do we have to do?” Dean asked.

“It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.” Sam explained.

“More powerful?” Dean winced. “How?”

“Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Um, yeah because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all.” Sam smiled proudly.

“Well, first things first. We gotta find it.” Dean stood up on shaky legs and grabbed his EMF. Sam did the same. And the two brothers prepared to scan the opposite sides of the plane.

“I’ll stay here.” I crossed my legs and marvelled at the sheer amount of leg space old airplanes had. You couldn’t have found this in the 2020s. Everything was mini sized where not even the average person could fit in.

“So the demon isn’t possessing any of the passengers?”

“Keep looking.” I waved them away.

A few minutes later and with 15 minutes left until the plane went crashing, Dean and Sam were back.

“It was the copilot.” Sam whispered to me and we made our way to Amanda at the back of the plane. “She’s not gonna believe this.”

“12 minutes dude.” Dean reminded us.

“Oh, hi.” Amanda smiled at Sam. “The flight's not too bumpy for your brother I hope.”

“Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.” Dean smiled.

I pulled the curtains close as the brothers gave Amanda the rundown of the situation.

“Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now.”

“I'm sorry, I-I'm very busy. I have to go back-” Amanda tried to get out of the little cabin.

I blocked her path. “Sorry, but we really do need your help.”

Her eyes widened in fear. “We’re not going to hurt you. We don’t have any weapons that can hurt anything human.”

“The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead.” Dean continued.

Amanda froze. “Chuck? He’s dead?” Her hand flew to her mouth.

“He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?”

“I-I–,”Amanda stammered as she tried to make sense of the situation.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.” Sam explained. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

Amanda nodded shakily. “On… On 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” I tried to confirm.

She nodded. “Yes, how did you–”

“Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.” Dean ordered.

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“His eyes.” I checked my watch. “7 minutes. We’re running out of time.”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot–”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. We just need him back here. Tell him the plane is broken and will crash or something. Whatever will get the copilot over here.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you–”

“You’ll lose your life if you don’t do this right now.” Shoot. I sounded like I was gonna kill her.

“O-okay–” Amanda ran off to the other end of the plane to call over the copilot.

“Where’s the passage?” I asked Sam. “I can read out the exorcism if you guys hold the thing down.”

“Alright. Here it is.” Sam showed me a two part long passage in the book. “It’s in Latin.”

“Alright.” I skimmed through the passage and mentally read it in my head. Alright, I could do it. Ideally I would have drawn a devil’s trap but I had nowhere to hide it or draw it in time. “Hold that thing down when it comes here.”

Dean and Sam nodded as Amanda and the copilot entered the back area.

Sam immediately threw holy water on the demon who screamed. Or he would have if Dean hadn’t already slapped a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

“Keep the passengers away.” Sam instructed Amanda.

I began the incantation. With both Dean and Sam holding down the demon, I could continue reading the words on the page. They barely registered in my head before they left my mouth. The adrenaline was crazy. Black smoke erupted from the copilot’s mouth and the smoke swirled above us.

Okay, a tiny bit faster now. Before it went into the vents. I kept reading. Last para. Last line. And bam. I’d done it. The black smoke disappeared, and everything was calm.

Other than the copilot of course. He was terrified. He had two giant men holding him down and holy water had sizzled his skin after all. But he was still alive. And we’d done it. We’d saved over a hundred people on this stupid plane. Amanda, don’t you ever fly again after another near death experience.

 

Sam, Dean, and I dodged all the paramedics that had shown up thanks to our copilot who had gotten himself possessed and therefore burned from holy water. And if he had been nervous enough to be possessed by a demon then was he even fit to be a copilot? I shuddered. Maybe the turbulence really was due to the copilot’s skills and not just because of the demon that possessed him.

“Thank you.” Amanda whispered.

When the police and paramedics walked towards us, she managed to distract them with her own testimonies while Sam, Dean, and I snuck out of the crowd.

“We really did it.” Sam looked excited. “We took down a demon without Dad.”

“Yep!” Dean was back to his cheery self now that we were on land. “And we’re on land! We’re not gonna fall to our deaths!”

“We could if it’s a canyon or a cliff.” I pointed out.

“Hey, I’ll take that over falling off an airplane any day.” Dean grinned.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Alright, guys. Let’s get out of here.” Sam muttered under his breath when one of the police looked in our direction.

 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed.” Jerry looked at us with gratitude. “Thank you.” He held out his hand. Dean and Sam grasped onto it and shook it firmly. I wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans and grasped his hand before giving it two firm pumps. “Your dad’s gonna be proud.”

“We’ll see you around Jerry.” Sam smiled and turned to leave.

Dean paused. “You know Jerry?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cell phone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me.” Jerry said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But wasn’t John missing? Or was I missing a key piece of information here?

“What?” Sam thought the same because he walked back to stand next to me and Dean.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean was listening with rapt attention.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number.” Jerry shrugged. “His voice message said to give you a call. Thanks again, guys.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, man. I’ve called Dad’s number like 50 times. It’s been out of service.”

Dean scrolled through his contacts and pressed John’s number. He put the phone on speaker so Sam and I could hear it too. ‘This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.’

Sam forced the door to the impala open. “You can go shotgun, Sharon.” he climbed into the backseat. Dean and I looked worriedly at the younger boy.

“What’s going on, Sharon?” Dean whispered.

“I can’t say. I’m sorry.” I whispered back.

“Will we be okay?” Dean looked at me as if begging for answers.

But I couldn’t say anything.

Notes:

Resources used: https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6564

I should seriously start proofreading. There’s a couple of dialogue problems in two chapters that I’ve noted and I’ll fix them sometime soon.
Classes are starting tomorrow though, so I’ll be updating a little slower than usual. Do stay along for the ride though :)

Chapter 11: Bloody Mary

Summary:

A part of me had wanted to let him go. Let him go so that we could find out where the creature’s lair was. I was evil, as far as I knew it. Just like that sheriff.

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. They make out. Again. Idk what's wrong with me. I never thought I could write lovey dovey scenes.
2. Signs of depression? Anxiety? At least I think they are.
Y'all have been warned.

I slowly blinked my eyes open as the car started to slow down at a red light.

“Rise and shine.” Dean looked away from the road to glance at me.

“Eyes on–” I cleared my rough throat. “Eyes on the road. Don’t want to die yet.”

“Hey, I’m a great driver, alright?” Dean huffed.

“Sure, sure.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Is Sammy still sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s eyes moved from the road to the rearview mirror. His brows furrowed ever so slightly in concern. “He’s not sleeping too well, though.”

“How many hours did he get?”

Dean checked the odometer. “Couple of hours maybe. Some sleep is better than none.”

I looked behind my seat with worry as Sam stirred restlessly in his sleep. His 6’5” body was sprawled across the back row, his knees and head touching each door on either side and his arm thrown over the backseat with the other one hanging down onto the floor.

“We should wake him up.” I whispered.

“Sam, wake up.” Dean said.

“Sammy,” I said a little louder, but he was still shifting about with his eyes closed. “Sammy!” I turned around in my seat and reached over to jerk the younger Winchester’s shoulder.

“Sammy, wake up!” Dean said once more. With a jolt, Sam’s eyes snapped open.

He grabbed my wrist, almost pulling me to the floor of the Impala.

“Ow…” I hissed as the front seat of the car dug into my stomach.

“I- Sorry. I’m so- so sorry, Sharon.” Sam stammered guiltily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I gave him a thumbs up and retreated back to sitting down properly.

“Nightmare?” Dean asked. But he already knew the answer to that.

“Hey, at least I got some sleep.” Sam gave a small laugh.

“You wanna talk about it?” I asked.

Sam wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It was just a nightmare. Nothing important.”

“You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this.” He pulled the car in front of a building.

“Are we here?” Sam changed the subject.

“Toledo, Ohio.” I pulled out the newspaper clipping that had brought us here. “‘The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father Steven Shoemaker. Steven was 46. A short service will be held on Wednesday,’ blah blah blah.” I read.

“So what do you think really happened to this guy?” Sam looked at me and Dean with curious eyes.

The two of us shrugged. “That's what we're gonna find out. Let’s go.” Dean left the car first.

The boys and I headed inside. I buttoned up my black and white flannel and tugged my black skirt down enough to cover my knees to kind of resemble a formal dress. I threw on my reading glasses as an added touch. Hopefully that distracted people from the button that never stayed put around my chest. The plan was to pretend to be med students, and at least one of us had to look the part.

Dean wasted no time and made a beeline for the Morgue.

“Hey,” he confidently greeted the Morgue Technician.

“Can I help you?” The guy was wiry thin and wore glasses.

“Yeah. We're the, uh… med students.” Dean smiled.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, Doctor–” Dean’s eyes flitted to the name tag on the table.

“Doctor Fake-low-iz.” I offered. I prayed it was right. “Sorry, he has kind of a difficult name.”

“Yeah,” Dean pushed his hands into his pockets. “We talked to him on the phone. He, uh, we're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper.”

Ohio State University. I remembered when I was in middle school and living in Ohio, I’d wanted to go there. It was the only real college around the area though, so practically everyone I knew was gunning for it.

The Morgue Technician narrowed his eyes. His personality could be either of two things– trembling and timid, or goody two shoes who would defend the rules to his last breath. Unfortunately he turned out to be the latter.

“Well, I'm sorry, he's at lunch.”

“Oh well he said, uh-” Dean gave up on coming up with an excuse.“-oh, well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind just showing us the body, do you?” Dude! Did he want us to get kicked out?!

“Sorry, I can't.” The tech refused again. “Doc will be back in an hour. You can wait for him if you want.”

“An hour? Ooh. We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then.” Dean looked to Sam who joined in the conversation.

“Yeah.”

“Uh, look, man, this paper's like half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out–”

“Boy, you don’t get paid enough to deal with us. Just let us in, or we can stand here and debate for the rest of the day.” The tech raised an eyebrow in my direction. I made a show of rolling my eyes and cocking my hip. “Seriously. We have nothing to lose. We can be late for a class. Attendance is like 0% of our grade. But this stupid paper is literally 50%. So you bet we’re finding a way in.”

“But–”

“Dude. Our professor, AKA the head of the department, already talked to Dr. Fake-low-iz about this. We can’t just go back empty handed. You know how much paper work it took to get this arranged? Dr. F will be pissed if we have to do this all over again!”

The tech pursed his lips before opening his mouth.

I cut in. “We’ll sweeten the deal and add your name to the research paper. Put it on your resume or something.”

That got the tech“Okay, fine. Follow me.”

“Good job,” Dean murmured.

“Nothing like the fake scent of a promotion.” Sam chuckled.

I held back a triumphant grin.

Inside the morgue, the tech pulled out the body we were here to see.

“Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Dean read from the newspaper clipping.

The tech pulled back the sheet covering Steven Shoemaker’s face. “More than that. They practically liquefied.”

This case was starting to sound more and more familiar.

“Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean continued asking.

“Nope. Besides the daughter, he was all alone.”

“What's the official cause of death?” Sam leaned in closer to examine the eyes.

“Ah, Doc's not sure. He's thinking massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“Intense cerebral bleeding. This guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen.”

“Since when did that cause this kind of bleeding?” I held back a shudder at the mush that was the inside of his head. “It’s like someone exploded a grenade in his head.”

“Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims.” the tech shrugged.

“Yeah? You ever see exploding eyeballs?” Dean challenged. Hold on, was this the Bloody Mary case? That’s the only one that rang a bell with exploding eyeballs in the first season. Oh hell nah. I hated the Bloody Mary one!

“That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the Doctor.” the tech laughed.

“Hey, think we could take a look at that police report? You know for, uh...our paper.” Seriously, Dean?

“I'm not really supposed to show you that.” the tech stiffened.

Change of tactics. “Oh come on!” I whined. I pulled off my glasses, making sure to bring down a few tendrils of hair. This guy turned out to be the sexually frustrated type. Worked for our favor, but man it sucked. “I drove two hours to get here. We seriously can’t see the police report?”

“No,” the tech eyed me. His eyes were definitely on the loose button around my bust. There was no skin exposed underneath, but still he stared. Disgusting, but I could use this to my advantage.

I stepped closer. “Please? Just one sneak peek?”

“Sneak peek…” he swallowed and nodded. His eyes were still on my chest. Creep.  “Wait here, I’ll go get it.” He finally looked away and left.

 

“Well, that sucked.” I unbuttoned my flannel, exposing the skin tight black turtleneck underneath.

“You kind of did play into it.” Sam pointed out.

I glared at him. “Doesn’t justify him being a creep.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do it again.” Dean wouldn’t even look in my direction as he got into the car. Was he mad? Oh, damn, that was kinda cute.

Sam gave me an impressed look and we both got in the car too. “This might not be one of ours. Might just be some freak medical thing.” He said.

“How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?” Dean questioned.

“Uh, almost never.”

“Exactly.”

“All right, let's go talk to the daughter.”

“What’s the address?”

I pulled out the news clipping. “There,”

 

“Feel a little underdressed.” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, it’s almost like they’re in the middle of a funeral.” I started to take off my flannel, leaving me in all black attire… but I felt a little exposed though after my recent run in with the morgue tech… so maybe not. I put the thing back on.

“Sorry, but would you happen to know where Donna Shoemaker is…?” Sam asked someone nearby. The man pointed to a group of four girls dressed in knee length black dresses. “Thank you. Our condolences.”

“Thank you.” the man gave a nod of his head and moved on.

“You must be Donna, right?” Dean said as he knelt down to her sitting height. Donna nodded.

“Hi, uh– we’re really sorry,” Sam knelt down too.

“Thank you,” Donna nodded, but she looked at the three of us with questioning eyes.

“I’m Sharon, that’s Sam, and that’s Dean. We used to work with your father.” I gave her a small smile.

“Yeah. This whole thing. I mean, a stroke.” Dean shook his head.

“I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now.” one of the other girls held Donna’s hand.

“Charlie… It's okay. I'm okay.” Donna insisted.

“Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraines?” Dean pressed.

“No,” Donna shook her head. “It was all so sudden–”

“That's because it wasn't a stroke,” said one of the younger girls.

“What makes you say that?” I sat down on the arm of the chair next to her.

“Lily!” Donna cut in. “I'm sorry, she's just upset.”

“Oh, no, absolutely not. It’s alright.” I looked at Lily. “Can you tell us why you think that?”

“It happened because of me.” Lily looked at me dead in the eyes. “Right before he died, I said it.”

“Said what, Lily?”

“I said Bloody Mary, three times in the bathroom mirror.” she held back tears. “She took his eyes, that's what she does.”

“Sweetie, that is not why Dad died. It’s not your fault.” Donna rubbed the younger girl’s back.

“I think your sister's right, Lily.” Dean jumped in. “There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?”

“Yeah, she only attacks those that say her name.” I stood up. “So it’s not your fault, alright?”

“I guess.” Lily buried her face in her sister’s neck and heaved with dry sobs. Poor girl.

 

Aight. I was officially terrified of mirrors. My heart threatened to leave its cage every time I came across a mirror. I hated Bloody Mary with a passion. Wendigos looked freaking ugly, and Bloody Mary had a crazy bloody M.O. Maybe I was allowed to be scared of two supernatural things. Could I take down a demon or a werewolf instead? Those were simpler.

“The Bloody Mary legend…” Sam wondered out loud, “Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?”

“Not that I know of.” Dean answered.

He paused inside the bathroom and leaned over to check the medicine cabinet mirror in the bathroom. Sam knelt down and touched the dried blood on the floor. I chose to not be in the proximity of a mirror. God, this thing was nightmarish.

“I mean, everywhere else all over the country, kids will play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, nobody dies from it.” Sam continued.

“Yeah, well, maybe everywhere it's just a story, but here it's actually happening.”

“So something is different here.” I chimed. But Dean refused to respond. I frowned. What the hell?

Sam also shot a glance at Dean. he then turned to me with a frown. ‘What’s wrong with him?’ he mouthed.

I shrugged. Like hell if I knew.

Sam sighed. “The place where the legend began?”

Dean opened the medicine cabinet. “Don’t think so.”

“But according to the legend, the person who says B–” Sam paused at the name. “The person who says you-know-what gets it. But here-” Sam stared at his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. He slammed it shut.

Dean gave him a ‘seriously dude’ look. “Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah.”

“Right.” Sam nodded and joined me in the hallway. He eyed the mirror warily. Well, that made two of us.

“Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right.” Dean in the meantime was nonchalantly going over every nook and cranny in the bathroom. “The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out.” His use of ‘you-know-who’ made me hold back a snicker. So it affected him more than he would have liked to admit.

“It’s worth checking into.” Sam turned around to leave.

Except we were stopped in place by one of the four girls we’d met downstairs. “What are you doing up here?” Her eyes flitted between the three of us.

I opened my mouth to lie, but Dean jumped in. “We-we, had to go to the bathroom.” Dude! That’s not even a good one!

“Who are you?” the girl demanded.

“Like we said downstairs, we worked with Donna's dad.”

“He was a day trader or something. He worked by himself.” Donna was on guard. I could see her legs tensing as she prepared herself to run. Smart girl.

“No, I know, I meant–”

“Dean, shut up.” I grabbed his shoulder to make him stop running his mouth and screwing us over even more. He shrugged it off, but fell silent. Seriously, what the hell?

“And all those weird questions downstairs, what was that? So you tell me what's going on, or I start screaming.” Donna threatened.

Sam stepped forward with his hands held up in a defenseless manner. “All right, all right. We think something happened to Donna's dad.”

“Yeah, a stroke.” the girl said slowly.

“That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else.”

I nodded. “Strokes don’t make your eyeballs explode.”

“So what could it be?” the girl’s legs were starting to relax.

“Honestly? We don't know yet.” Sam continued. “But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth.” Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean to back him up on that.

“So, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead.” Dean shrugged.

“Who are you, cops?” the girl looked between the three of us.

Sam looked over his shoulder at me and Dean for an answer. “Something like that.” Dean provided.

“I'll tell you what. Here.” Sam pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. “If you think of anything, you or your friends notice anything strange, out of the ordinary…” He handed his number to the girl who hesitantly took it. “Just give us a call.”

“Especially if it has to do with mirrors.” I added.

“Yep, especially with mirrors.” Sam nodded.

“So we’re done here?” Dean raised an eyebrow at the girl who nodded slowly. “Awesome, let’s go.”

Sam and I followed him out the door.

 

“All right, say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town.” Dean talked. “There's gonna be some sort of proof— Like a local woman who died nasty.”

“Yeah but a legend this widespread it's hard. I mean, there's like 50 versions of who she actually is.” Sam sighed. “One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride, there's a lot more.”

“The one I know of, she comes out of the mirror and stabs you. You have to light three candles in front of a mirror, do it with three people in the room, and you have to say her name three times and say ‘I stole your baby’ at the end. All in a dark room at 3:00AM.”

“That’s a very interesting variation. An obsession with the number 3.” Sam mused. “Is this some local telling?”

“It’s the most popular one where I come from.”

“So different countries also have different versions of the story.”

“All right, so what are we supposed to be looking for?” Dean opened the door to the library. Sam filed in, but before I could walk in too, Dean cut in front of me. Okay, that was enough.

“Dean, what the hell?” I hissed at him.

“Yeah, seriously, Dean what the hell?” Sam stood next to me.

“Are you mad about what happened at the morgue?” I threw my hands up. He wouldn’t even look at me. “So you’re allowed to flirt with women to get information out of them, but the second I do it, it’s an issue?”

“We’re working a case. And I’m not mad. I’m sorry I didn’t hold the door open for you. Okay? Can we move on now?” Dean started heading for the computer section of the library.

Oh he was definitely mad. “He’s acting like a child.” I told Sam.

“Yeah. I agree.” He sighed at his older brother. “How do you deal with him?”

“Good question.” I cleared my throat. “But he’s right. We have a case. Let’s work it. So what’re we looking for?”

“Okay, so, every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror.” Sam and I caught up to Dean who was searching for the computers. “So we've gotta search local newspapers– public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill.”

“Well that sounds annoying.”

“No it won't be so bad, as long as we–” Sam groaned at the sight of the ‘out of order’ sign.

“Oh God.” I walked to the other side of the section, hoping at least one would be working. But as luck would have it, “All the computers are out of order.” I brought my head down on my hands. “I’m a 2020s girlie, how the hell am I supposed to dig through actual books?”

“This will be very annoying.” Sam mumbled.

“Then get to work.” Dean dropped a pile of books he’d picked up. “Chop, chop.”

 

Back at the motel room, Dean giving me the silent treatment was starting to tire me out.

“Dean, seriously. Are we gonna talk about what this is?”

Dean glanced at Sam who was passed out on the table. “I already said it. I’m not mad.”

“If you’re not mad then why are you giving me the silent treatment?”

“I’m talking to you now though?”

“That doesn’t count Dean.” I closed the book he was reading and tossed it to the side. I sat down in front of him on the bed. He inhaled sharply and looked away. “Look at me,” I leaned over and grabbed his chin. “Look at me, Dean.” His green eyes guiltily met mine. “There we go. Care to tell me what’s going on, now?”

His jaw clenched. God, I loved the way it moved. “Nothing.”

“Dean,”

“It’s nothing, okay? It’s stupid!” He sighed and leaned back. “I know I have nothing to worry about– With you being you… and all that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That–” Dean ran his hands over his face. “Look. You’re an attractive woman, alright? You turn heads wherever you go.”

“Lies,” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not pretty enough for eyes on me. It’s the rare jerk that’s never gotten laid before that ends up eying me.”

Dean looked almost offended. “I’ve gotten laid plenty of times before you came along.”

“Or the playboy kind who likes a tough challenge.”

“Now you’re talking.” Dean’s left lip corner quirked up.

“So what was that all about?”

“Right. So… Like I was saying…” he leaned forward on his knees. “You’re gorgeous. And hot. You don’t believe it, but men do like women with large thighs like yours.” And yet the world’s most coveted models and women were stick thin. “You’ve got good sized tits.” a little vulgar choice of words but this was Dean we were talking about, and my cup size only made it harder to shop for clothes that didn’t get me dress coded. “And your ass is pretty nice to hold.” it was droopy though, like really droopy. “So… I know that men look at you. You know. Makes me proud that men look at you.” Dean looked down. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. This is embarrassing,” he cleared his throat. “My point is. You’re hot. And you only get hotter when you open that pretty mouth of yours.” right my chapped lips that I chewed on everyday. “Men want you. And not always for the good reasons. But I’m used to it when men fall for you when you’re not even trying to seduce them.”

“I’ve never tried to–”

“The case with the vengeful spirit of the kid that got killed by the sheriff.” Dean reminded me. I looked down guiltily. “And you failed miserably. It was obvious you were acting. And the guy was a good guy. I saw him. He was polite. But this guy from today, do you have any idea of how dangerous it could have gotten if we weren’t there? Huh?” Dean looked almost worried. “He could have jumped you. Done unimaginable things to you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know, sweetheart. But just the thought of some guy hurting you– I can’t.” He held out his arms, inviting me to sit on his lap. “C’mere.”

“No,” I looked away. “You gave me the silent treatment.”

“Hey, you give it to me so many times.” I felt him sidle up next to me. “And I had a good reason for this, no?” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m sorry. I was jealous, okay? But I was worried too. I think I have every right to be mad at you for putting yourself in danger like that.”

He was right. I leaned against him. “Fine.”

“I’m forgiven?”

“Sure.” I turned around and pressed my face into his solid chest. His arms wrapped around me gently. I felt his lips press against the top of my head. They were soft. One of his hands unraveled the ponytail my hair was in and started untangling my hair. I hummed in peace as he tugged out the knots in my hair. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Maybe,” he whispered huskily. “Promise not to do that again. And if you do, then make sure Sam or I am near you. Or even dad and Bobby. They’ll have a fit, but… I just don’t want you hurt, sweetheart.”

I looked up into his eyes with my chin pressed against his chest. “Promise.”

His lips slowly met mine. I closed my eyes and got up on my knees. Dean held me steady with his hands on my waist and head as he deepened the kiss. “Then I’m not mad anymore.” I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. God, he was so good. “I love you.” he whispered in between kisses. His hands snuck under my shirt. His hands were so warm when they pulled me close.

Dammit Dean. He knew how to take my breath away. I dug my hands into his hair as he pushed my lips open with his. Dean, Dean, oh Dean–

“I don’t know what’s worse. My nightmares or this.” Dean and I jumped when Sam’s sleepy voice cut into our makeout session.

“O-oh–” I’d completely forgotten about the younger Winchester in the room. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “Sorry, we thought you were asleep.”

“Is that what you two do when I’m sleeping?” Sam looked mortified. And so was I.

Dean was the only one enjoying this. “You never hear us at night? You must be a real deep sleeper then. Sharon’s real loud in be–”

I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head. He gave out a small ‘oomph’ when it hit him before doubling over with laughter. Bastard. His brother looked more traumatised after looking at us than his nightmares.

“I’m gonna go and pluck my eyeballs out.” Sam muttered. “So besides making out, did you guys find anything?”

“Besides a whole new level of frustration? No. I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but uh, no Mary.”

“I searched up strange deaths in the area.” I nodded towards my closed laptop. “Stuff like eyeball explosions. There's nothing.” I couldn’t remember a lot of things about this case. I’d been behind my plushie out of fear for most of it. Now I wished I’d seen and observed every detail of the show.

Sam’s phone started ringing and he picked it up. Dean and I fell silent as Sam’s eyes widened. “We have to go,” he told us.

 

We were standing in front of a park bench where the girl that had called Sam was sobbing and telling us how her friend, Jill, had died.

“And they found her on the bathroom floor. And her-her eyes. They were gone.” sobbed the girl. It was the same girl, Charlie, who Sam had given his contact information to.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said softly.

“And she said it.” Charlie wiped her tears, “I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?”

“No, you're not insane.” Dean clarified.

“Oh God, that makes me feel so much worse.”

“Look. We think something's happening here.” Sam jumped in before Charlie could start crying again. “Something that can't be explained.”

“And we're gonna stop it” Dean reassured her. “But we could use your help.”

 

And so we ended up in Jill’s room. I looked at the girl’s belongings. It was just a simple room. Nothing that stood out at all. Except for the body length mirror in the closet that gave me the shivers.

“What did you tell Jill's mom?” Sam had started making small conversation.

“Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things.” Charlie sniffled. “I hate lying to her.”

“Trust us, this is for the greater good. Hit the lights.” Dean ordered. He closed the curtains.

Sam handed me the camera and he went to turn off the lights. Why were cameras this big? And heavy? Well, at least it had night vision.

“What are you guys looking for?” Charlie looked around in confusion.

“We'll let you know as soon as we find it.” Dean grinned when I aimed the camera at him. “Do I look like Paris Hilton?”

“Nope.” I turned away from him and followed Sam as he opened the closet door and examined the mirror in it.

“So I don't get it. I mean…” Sam pointed to the areas he wanted filmed. I followed his guide. “The first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second victim did. How's she choosing them?”

“Beats me.” Dean shrugged. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

Sam and I moved away from the closet mirror and went onto the bathroom mirror. Oh god. I hated this.

“It's just a joke.” Charlie laughed bitterly. Oh honey, you have no idea.

“Yeah well somebody's gonna say it again, it's just a matter of time.” Dean sighed.

“Sam.” I grabbed Sam’s sleeve. “There’s something coming out of the mirror.”

He immediately straightened up. “What is it? Is it her?”

“No, it’s like a-a black fluid of some kind. It’s just… trickling out. I don’t think it’ll hurt us though.”

“There’s a black light in the trunk, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll go get that. And you get Dean in here.”

“Okay.”

Sam left to go get the black light and I motioned Dean and Charlie into the bathroom.

“Black liquid?” Dean asked.

“It looked black in the camera.” I handed it to him.

His mouth formed an O. “Let's take this thing down.”

Dean and I worked to get the mirror out of the bathroom and carried it into Jill’s bedroom. We dropped it upside down on her soft bed. Dean carefully peeled back the brown paper on the back of the mirror.

“I got it.” Sam handed me the black light.

I fumbled with the switch before managing to turn it on. I aimed it at the back of the mirror. Everyone crowded around to see what was on it. “Gary Bryman.” I read. It had a handprint next to it, almost like a signature. “Any idea who that is?”

Charlie shook her head. “No idea.”

 

After a night of research, and three cups of coffee, we were on the park bench again, handing Charlie information we’d found.

“So, Gary Bryman was an 8-year-old boy. Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run.” Sam read. “The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver.”

“Oh my God.” Charlie’s jaw dropped open. “Jill drove that car.”

God. She had killed a kid?

Dean gripped his keys. “We need to get back to your friend Donna’s house.”

 

I shone the blacklight on the back of the bathroom mirror in Donna’s house. “Linda Shoemaker. No way.”

 

“Why are you asking me this?” Donna looked around at the four of us.

“Look, we're sorry, but it's important.” Sam insisted.

“Yeah. Linda's my mom okay? She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, and that's it. I think you should leave.” She was definitely hiding something.

“Alright, let’s go.” I grabbed the boys and motioned towards Charlie to leave the house.

“Oh my God. Do you really think her dad could've killed her mom?” Charlie gasped.

“Maybe.” Sam kept walking.

“Maybe I should stick around.”

“All right.” Dean agreed. “But whatever you do, don’t–”

“Believe me, I won’t say it.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait, you're doing a nationwide search?” Sam sat down on Dean’s other side.

“Yep. The NCIC, the FBI database—at this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me.” Dean hit Enter.

“But if she's haunting the town, she should have died in the town.”

“I'm telling you there's nothing local, I've checked. So unless you got a better idea–”

“The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern.”

“I know, I was thinking the same thing.”

“With Mr. Shoemaker and Jill's hit and run.”

“Both had secrets where people died.”

“And there’s a lot of lore that say that mirrors reveal all of one’s lies, secrets. Like they’re a window to your soul. And that’s why it’s bad luck to break them. At least in western media. In my country you cover the mirror at night so the ghost doesn’t even get in, and if the mirror does have a ghost, you smash it and burn it. Or so my mom told me.”

“Huh.” Sam nodded in acknowledgement. “That’s an interesting take on it.”

“I could say the same for y’all’s.”

“Right, right. So basically if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it.” Dean reiterated.

“Whether you're the one that summoned her or not.” Sam added.

“Alright. Take a look at this.” Dean leaned back slightly so Sam and I could lean in to see what he’d pulled up.

It was a woman with her eyes cut out in front of a mirror. There was a handprint and the words TRE next to it. 

“It looks the same as the handprints we found on the victims in our case.” I noted.

“Uh-huh.” Dean nodded. “Her name was Mary Worthington– an unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana.”

“And no one tried to search for a guy whose name starts with the letters TRE?” I shook my head. “Corrupt police officers and whatnot.” I turned the laptop towards me and started typing.

“We can look him up on the FBI database…” Dean’s voice trailed off when I turned the screen back to him and Sam.

“The above ground internet databases have everything. Especially internet sleuth forums.” I smirked as the boys blinked at the loads of information on that one webpage. “Trevor Sampson. Only guy in that era, in the area, that started by TRE.”

“And it was Sampson who killed her?” Sam asked.

“Mhm.” I hummed. “He was a surgeon and the way her eyes were cut out. It looks like a professional’s.”

“And, uh, what’s the motive?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“She was having an affair with the dude. He had a wife.” I scrolled a little further down on the forum. “Here’s Mary’s diary.” Some mad lad had posted all the pages from it. I showed them pictures. “She was having an affair with ‘T’.”

“And you can trust these guys on the web?” Dean scoffed.

I shrugged. “Well, they don’t have a reason to lie now do they?”

“Fair point.” Sam accepted. “Is there information on where she’s buried?”

“She was cremated. The forum’s kinda mad cause they can’t analyse her wounds.”

“Wow.” Sam laughed in amusement. “I don’t believe it.”

“What about that mirror? Your internet do that too?” Dean challenged.

“Oh yeah.” I opened up her obituary where her possessions were also listed. “If we track down the purchases…” With a few more searches that took too long thanks to ancient internet, I had it. “The family held onto it for years, until they sold it last week. It’s in this city. Ended up in some store called Estate Antiques.”

“Wow.” Dean looked impressed at the information. “So wherever the mirror goes, that's where Mary goes?”

“Her spirit's definitely tied up with it somehow.” Sam noted.

“So Mary dies in front of a mirror, and it draws in her spirit.”

“Yeah but how could she move through like a hundred different mirrors?”

Yeah, well, the woman crawled out of the mirror at some point. I shuddered. I hated mirrors.

“I don't know, but if the mirror is the source, I say we find it and smash it.” Dean got up.

That’s when Sam’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello… Charlie?”

 

Sam, Dean, and I worked quickly. Pulling curtains close, taking out lightbulbs, turning down mirrors that could be moved, and covering up those that couldn’t be.

Sam sat down on the bed next to where Charlie was curled up into a ball. “Hey, hey it's ok. Hey, you can open up your eyes Charlie. It's okay, all right?”

Charlie looked up shakily. Her eyes darted from side to side in fear.

“Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you.” Sam explained.

“But I can't keep that up forever. I'm gonna die, aren't I?” Charlie panicked.

“No. No. Not anytime soon.” Sam tried to reassure her. Charlie continued rocking back and forth.

Dean, in the meantime, was all business, the opposite of his brother. He sat down on Charlie’s other side and started asking. “All right Charlie. We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom. Donna said it.”

“That's not what we're talking about. Something happened, didn't it? In your life… a secret… where someone got hurt. Can you tell us about it?”

Charlie breathed shakily. “Okay,” she opened her mouth. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said ‘Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself.’” Bastard. “And you know what I said? I said, ‘Go ahead.’” Good girl. “And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just… I didn't believe him, you know? I should have!” She put her head back down and started crying again.

“I think you did the right thing.” I told Charlie. “If a guy threatens you with that, and then actually follows through with it, then the guy wasn’t worth it.”

“But- but that meant that he truly loved me! If I hadn’t told him to go ahead then he wouldn’t have died…”

“Well, let me tell you right now. He was a bastard. An insecure, obsessed, deranged idiot. Staying with him would have only led to more hardship and heartbreak.”

“But the ghost–”

“Ghosts are dumb. They believe what they want to believe. They’re no longer human. To them it’s black or white. They don’t see any shade of gray” I looked her in the eye. “Besides, we’re here now. We got you.”

Her lip trembled as she nodded and ducked under her blanket. “Please let me know when it’s all over.” she pleaded.

“Of course.”

 

“So how do we kill this thing?” Dean asked as we got into the car. Next stop, Estate Antiques. “Smash the mirror and burn the pieces? Like Sharon said?”

“You know, I've been thinking. It might not be enough to just smash that mirror.” Dean and I looked to Sam. “Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror.” Sam pointed out. “Who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it.”

“Well how do you know that's going to work?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t. Not for sure.” Sam’s brows furrowed.

“Well, who’s gonna summon her?”

Sam had nothing to say. Oh, right. In the original Sam had been able to summon her because of his guilt with Jessica. But now that she was alive… he didn’t have that…

“I can do it.” I leaned onto the front seat.

“Why would she come after you?” Dean scoffed. “You’re a goody two shoes with not even a dead fly, ignoring the monsters that deserved to die, to your name.”

“Roy.” I looked at Dean’s green eyes through the rearview.

Dean pulled the car over. “You can’t be serious.” He turned around to glare at me. “We just talked about this. You need to stop being reckless.”

“I’m not being reckless!” I glared back. “I feel guilty enough about Roy that this can happen, okay? And I can smash mirrors, no problemo!”

“But it’s dangerous!”

“You should have thought about that before you invited me on this trip!”

“Then just take a swing at me, it’s all my fault, isn’t it?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Sam jumped in to defuse the situation. “Dean, she’s the best chance we have at this. And Sharon, this isn’t your fault. Okay? Roy was not your fault.” No, it was. I could have made more of a fuss when I’d held him back, and used a little more strength. Not to mention what made me truly guilty. A part of me had wanted to let him go. Let him go so that we could find out where the creature’s lair was. I was evil, as far as I knew it. Just like that sheriff.

“You don’t know the truth.” I sagged back down in my seat.

“Neither of us blame you for that.” Sam said softly.

“You should.” I shook my head. “You don’t know the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean sounded genuinely concerned.

“I need to keep this a secret till we get Mary.” And after we got Mary. I wasn't going to tell them the truth. Ever. I didn’t want them to see me as evil.

“No. I don't like it. It's not gonna happen, forget it.” Dean started the car again and prepared for a U turn.

I grabbed Dean’s shoulder before he could turn the wheel completely. “Dean, let me save her, please. That girl is innocent. So many others could die because of this.”

Dean’s eyes flitted to the ring on my finger. He set his jaw, but pulled back onto the road in the direction of the store. “I don’t like this.”

“Thank you.” I let go of his shoulder and leaned back. Mary, dear Mary. Please don’t kill me. But she sure would take her best shot.

 

“Great. My life is great.” I threw my hands in defeat at the number of mirrors in the store. “How do we find her mirror?”

Dean pulled out her picture and showed it to me. I pulled out my iPhone and took a picture. “That should do.”

“They need to start releasing those things faster.” Dean stared at the small thing in my hand.

“They do.” I grinned. “I can’t wait for the actual internet. Wait, we’re getting off track.” I cleared my throat. “We should start looking.”

“Alright.” Dean held my wrist. “Be careful.”

I nodded. “I know.” I looked around the giant store.

“You and Sam take the left.” Dean commanded. “I’ll take the right.”

The two of us nodded and headed in the direction we’d been told to go. I held the picture of Mary up and compared the mirrors in the store to the one in the picture.

“What about that one?” Sam whispered.

“Too oval.” I checked the picture again. “Hers is a little more circular.”

“Maybe it’s already been sold.” Sam wondered.

“I doubt it.”

“Over here!” We heard Dean call.

The two of us made our way to him and stared at the mirror. “Seriously?” I shivered when I saw myself in the reflection. Same old me. With acne scars and puffy cheeks and bags under her eyes. “My face looks like an egg.”

“It’s a cute egg.” Dean poked my cheek

Sam reached over to tug my other cheek. “It’s stretchy too.”

“Alright. Stop it.” I swatted their hands away. But thanks to them, I felt a little better about this.

Dean passed me a crowbar. “You see something, you swing.” He reminded me. I nodded. Sam and Dean picked up two other things that looked like they could smash mirrors and gave me a nod.

It was go time. “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.” I took a deep breath. “Bloody Mary.”

Something on the mirror on my left. I swung and the glass shattered.

Something on the right. Swing.

Left, swing.

Upper right, swing.

Before long, I was heaving from the way she jumped from mirror to mirror. I was starting to get tired. My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest and breathing was starting to become more difficult.

“Smash the rest.” I told the boys.

“What?” The brothers looked at me dumbly. Idiots!

“Smash the other mirrors. Why didn’t we do this before?!” I groaned. “Then I would have only one mirror to break! Oh, but hand me a small one.”

“What for?” Sam asked.

Upper left. Swing.

“Just do it!” I stomped my foot and that got them moving.

“You did it!” Mary screamed from a mirror in front of me. It was her mirror. My eyes felt like they were melting. “You killed that man! You could have held him back!” Shit. I squeezed my eyes shut. It hurt. And someone was screaming. That someone was me. Something in front of me shattered. Dean or Sam must have gotten to breaking it. Was it over? Judging from the liquid rolling down my face and the mind numbing pain in my eyes, I guessed not. I forced my eyes open when Mary's shrieking didn’t stop either.

“Bitch crawled out of the fucking mirror!” I scrambled backwards as the pale emaciated woman with a crow’s nest for hair crawled in my direction.

“Show her her reflection!” I heard Sam yell.

Oh yeah.

Mirror. I needed to show her herself. Mirror. Any mirror would do. Just something to get that woman to look at herself and not me. All of a sudden, a mirror appeared in front of me. It was floating. What the fuck.

Your powers, child.

Not again. It was the damn angel.

I don’t appreciate being cursed at. I came here to check on how you were doing. You seem to be fine.

Was this guy blind? My eyes were bleeding.

I am not blind. You’ll live. See you later.

And just like that, the Angel was gone. And with one final screech, so was Mary, in a pool of blood. The mirror that I’d been holding up also fell and broke into a million pieces. I was alive.

I stumbled as my legs buckled under me. Dean rushed to hold me steady. “You okay?” He was wiping the blood away from my face.

“I never want an itch in my eyeballs.” I joked. I felt dizzy. If Dean hadn’t been holding up I would be on the floor taking a nap. “I’ll be fine.” The Angel said so.

“That was amazing.” Sam stared at the broken mirrors on the floor. “That’s one handy superpower.”

“I can’t exactly control it.” I gripped Dean’s arms as I tried to get the dizziness out of my head. Dean’s amulet, the Samulet, seemed like a good thing to focus on. “Gimme a minute.”

It took a couple of minutes, but I finally felt steady enough to move on my own. “Let’s go.”

 

“Is this really over?” Charlie peered at us from under her blanket.

“Here,” I pulled down the cover from the mirror right in front of her. She yelped in fear, but nothing happened.

“Oh,” her shoulders relaxed and she collapsed onto the bed. “It’s over. It’s really over.” she cried in relief. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Dean smiled, and the three of us left the joyously sobbing girl alone.

When we piled into the car, Dean turned around to fix me with his stare. “Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me what that secret is. And not just Sharon. You too, Sammy.”

“No.” I crossed my arms and looked out the window. Like hell I was telling him. “I can’t tell you, Dean.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

I could feel his gaze drilling holes into my skin. “I’m not ready to talk about it, Dean.”

“Just say it!”

“Whatever it is, we won’t think any worse of you.” Sammy gave me his puppy dog eyes. Dammit. “Sharon, seriously. Dean and I both. We both love you. So, just tell us what’s wrong.”

“I’m just a horrible person, alright?” I slipped my boots off and curled up on the seat. “Roy– I kind of let him go that day.”

“What do you mean?”

I bit down on my lip to make it stop shaking. “I could have stopped him. I knew he was going to die.” How was I even talking about this? Was I allowed to talk about past events? “I knew he was going to run off and the Wendigo would get him. But there was no other way of actually finding where the Wendigo was keeping the others if we all just stayed inside the circle.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Dean started pulling out of the driveway. “Dude was twice your size–”

“I can hunt down vampires.”

“Doesn’t matter. He was determined to get to the Wendigo. And he did. And his decisions cost him. That’s all this is.”

“But I could have–”

“We can’t save everyone.” Dean almost yelled. “You just have to accept that. Even if we do our best, not everyone can be saved. You got that?”

I nodded. I did, but not really. Was it truly not my fault? Maybe I wanted to feel guilty. Maybe I wanted to be depressed. Was that a thing? My head hurt. Too much thinking.

“Your turn, Sammy.” Dean turned to Sam next. “What is it with you and your nightmares, huh? They’ve been getting worse, I know.”

“No, Dean.”

“Come on. Sharon already shared her feelings. Now it’s your turn.”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh when he didn’t respond. “Come on Sammy. We’re not here to judge you.”

“Look...you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself.” Sam too moved into a defensive posture and turned away from the driver of the car who slammed his hand on the dashboard in a fit. But neither me nor Sam, neither of us was ready to talk.

Notes:

Resources used: https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6565
So I failed in finishing 15 seasons over winter break. :'). But it's fine. I'm almost done with Season 10. Charlie died. T_T. I wasn't ready for that. And then we got lectures the first day we had classes and I'm ready to jump out a window already. It's been three days only.

Chapter 12: Skin

Summary:

With all the burdens everyone around me carried and the limits on what I could say, I’d long since learned to stick to internal monologues. Eight years of practiced internal monologuing and I still wanted to say everything out loud. I thought I would be used to it, but I still wanted them to know me, hear me, understand my pain. But I couldn’t. My life was great.

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Anxiety? Depression? It's getting sadder for sure
2. You won't look at lasagna the same way ever again

“Alright, I figure we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight.” Dean continued rambling on his plans for the drive. He exited the car to go and get the gas pump going. He looked at me struggling to fill up the bike I’d finally picked up from Bobby’s. “Need help with that, sweetheart?”

“I’m doing just fine.” I forced the nozzle in. time to wait. Ignoring Dean’s ramblings on where to go next, I glanced into what Sam was doing.

“I need a Palm Pilot.” I marveled at the first remotely functioning cell phone in Sam’s hands. Sam lowered it down enough for me to watch him go over his emails with a stylus. “Wow, you have quite a few friends.” I opened the door to the Impala and got into the driver’s side.

Sam chuckled. “I know. It’s quite handy.” he passed it to me. “You wanna try it out?”

I nodded and held the thick bulky device in my hands. “Ancient cell phones suck.”

Sam frowned. “This is the latest model–”

“Hush. This,” I passed him my iPhone. “Is real technology.”

“Can’t argue with that…” Sam tapped the screen, watching the wallpapers change with each touch. I watched him unlock the phone and swipe in between the pages.

“Delete anything and you’re dead.” It had pictures of my family, and songs and videos that I couldn’t live without.

“Sam wears women’s underwear. Sharon has a dick.”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam and I chimed together and buried our noses in each other’s devices.

The response speed of the thing sucked. But it had a calendar and an email app. Man, I seriously needed to buy it. “We should get one of these, Dean. Also, we’ve been listening. We’re just kinda busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Dean scoffed.

“Sam has a bunch of emails.” I blinked at the huge thread of emails between him and Jessica. “You wanna read this in private?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, but you can read this one.” He handed me my phone back and used his stylus to click on a certain email from Rebecca Warren.

“Women?” I teased. “What happened to Jessica?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Rebecca is just a friend.”

“Is she hot?” Dean poked his head in through the window.

Sam and I ignored the comment. “I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.”

Dean shook his head. “Dude, what kind of people are you hangin’ out with?”

“No, man, I know Zack. He's no killer.” Sam sighed. “Something’s wrong.” I knew this case. It was the Skinwalker episode where Dean legally died for the first time.

“Well, maybe you know Zack as well as he knows you.”

“Dean, that was low.” I glared at him.

“They're in St. Louis. We're goin'.” Sam put the Palm Pilot away.

Dean chuckled as he put away the gas pump. “Look, sorry ‘bout your buddy, okay? But this does not sound like our kind of problem.” He moved on to do the same for mine. What a gentleman.

“It is our problem. They're my friends.” Sam glared.

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam.” Dean groaned.

“You would do the same if you had friends.” I pushed the door open and headed back to my bike.

He shrugged. “Like you have any real friends.” Well he didn’t have to say it like that. He sighed. “Fine, let’s go.”

 

Having my own ride was paradise. And MP3 players with their insane battery life kept me alive for the whole duration. Wearing a helmet was a pain and I had to wear a pair of leggings to keep my legs from getting frostbite, but the freedom was worth it.

Five hours later, the Impala finally parked in front of a house. I slid my bike in between it and the sidewalk and shook my hair out of the helmet.

Dean and Sam got out of the car, and I swung my leg over the bike. “This it?” I glanced at the small cozy house.

“That’s her address.” Sam checked once more before walking up to the front door.

A pretty cute girl opened the door with a huge smile. “Oh my God, Sam!”

“Well, if it isn't little Becky.” Sam wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

“You know what you can do with that little Becky crap.” She laughed and pulled away.

“I got your email.” Sam said in a little more serious tone.

“I didn't think that you would come here.” She gave a small smile. “Who’re they?”

“Dean.” Dean stepped forward for a handshake. “Older brother.”

“Sharon.” It was my turn. “Sister in law.”

“Hi.” Rebecca smiled.

“Hi.” How in the world did you talk to people?

“We’re here to help. Whatever we can do.” Sam provided. Thank God for a smart, sociable person.

“Come in.” Rebecca invited us in with a smile.

I walked into the house. It smelled fresh. There was a scent diffuser in the corner of the room. I should buy one for those musty motel rooms. I held back a sigh. My shopping list was forever growing.

“Nice place.” Dean commented.

“It's my parents'. I was just crashing here for the long weekend when everything happened. I decided to take the semester off. I'm gonna stay until Zack's free.” Rebecca explained. Sam followed her into the kitchen to get snacks.

I took it upon myself to explore the homeliness of the small home. Dean followed me around as I examined the decorations. There was a time when I’d thought I could build a home in this world with bright wallpaper and fragile vases filled with fresh flowers. Have a leather couch, with a giant TV in the corner. Pictures of myself and my friends, and my found family framed all over the walls that would be littered with posters of bands and homemade artwork.

“You okay?”

I ripped my eyes away from the frame on the coffee table of the happy family of four and nodded to Dean. That picture felt like a haunting. It reminded me too much of the life I’d left behind.

“We got beer.” Rebecca walked into the living room with four bottles.

“Oh, uh, Sharon doesn’t drink.” Sam piped.

“I can take her share.” Dean offered. I hit his foot with mine.

“Oh,” Rebecca looked at me awkwardly. “Um, could I get you something else?”

“Water is fine.”

She handed me a plastic water bottle on the table. It was still sealed.

“So, tell us what happened.” Sam said as we all sat down.

Rebecca took a swig. “Well, um, Zack came home, and he found Emily tied to a chair. And she was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn't breathing.” Despite the alcohol, she started crying. “So, he called 911, and the police— they showed up, and they arrested him. But, the thing is, the only way that Zack could've killed Emily is if he was in two places at the same time.” She cleared her throat. “The police— they have a video. It's from the security tape from across the street. And it shows Zack coming home at 10:30. Now, Emily was killed just after that, but I swear, he was here with me, having a few beers until at least after midnight.”

“You know, maybe we could see the crime scene. Zack's house.” Sam offered.

“We could.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“Why? I mean what could you do?” Rebecca looked at us with despair.

“Well, me, not much.” Sam pointed to Dean. “But Dean’s a cop.” Good one, Sam.

Dean laughed to hide his surprise. “Detective, actually.”

“Really?” Rebecca started looking hopeful. “Where?”

“Bisbee, Arizona.” Dean looked proud of his fake identity. “I’m off duty right now.” I stiffened when his hand landed across my shoulder. “Long deserved vacation.”

“You guys, it’s so nice to offer.” Rebecca looked hesitant. “But I just— I don’t know.”

“Bec, look, I know Zack didn’t do this. Now, we have to find a way to prove that he’s innocent.” Sam tried to nudge Rebecca to look up.

“Okay,” Rebecca nodded. “I’m gonna go get the keys.”

Dean removed his hand from my shoulder and leaned forward on his knees to fight with Sammy again. “Oh, yeah, man, you’re a real straight shot with your friends.”

“Look, Zack and Becky need our help.” Sam tried to reason.

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem.”

“Then why did you willingly agree with the lie?” I pointed out.

“Oh, come on.”

“Besides, two places at once?” Sam continued his case. “We’ve looked into less.”

Dean sighed and leaned back. He had nothing to say to that.

“Sammy wins again.”

 

Rebecca looked to Dean. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“Yeah. I’m an officer of the law.” Fake officer of the law.

Rebecca unlocked the door and we all filed in. I ducked under the police tape, and it was like a whole other world compared to the freshly mowed lawn outside with flowers just starting to bloom. Inside there was blood splattered on everything. Furniture, walls… nothing had been spared.

Sam paused before walking inside. “Bec, you wanna wait outside?”

“No. I wanna help.”

“Tell us what the police said.”

“Well, there's no sign of a break-in. They say that Emily let her attacker in. The Lawyers– they're already talking about plea bargain.” She broke into tears again. “Oh God…”

Sam grabbed her shoulders to ground her. “Look, Bec, if Zack didn't do this, it means someone else did. Any idea who?”

She shook her head, but after a moment she seemed to remember something. “Um, there was something, about a week before. Somebody broke in here and stole some clothes– Zack's clothes. The police– they don't think it's anything. I mean, we're not that far from downtown. Sometimes people get robbed.”

I jumped when a loud barking started out of nowhere. I lifted the blinds to see where the sound was coming from. “You know, that used to be the sweetest dog.” Rebecca said from next to me.

“What happened?” Dean joined us at the window.

“He just changed.”

“Do you remember when he changed?”

“I guess around the time of the murder.” Dean’s eyes clouded in thought as he walked away from the window.

“What’s going on?” Rebecca shuddered. She looked to me for comfort. Now, I was the worst at giving comfort. But I offered her a supportive smile anyway. “He was the sweetest brother. You know– we used to argue all the time, and we would throw pillows at each other, but this… he would never do something like this.” I could sympathise with her. I was the same with my own brother.

“I’m really sorry.” I told her. “We’re gonna do our best.”

She sniffled a little more and mouthed ‘thank you’. We stood by the window for a little bit. “Do you see this kind of thing a lot?” She asked suddenly.

“Huh?” I was confused.

“Like– you seem so calm around all of this. Is it because Dean is a cop?”

 I lied. “Well, Dean tells me a lot of stories. And I can kind of visualise it enough. He gets very descriptive.”

She nodded. “Must be nice to have nerves of steel.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m just a shaking leaf in all of this.” she laughed dryly.

“Hey, Rebecca. That’s normal.” I tried to calm her down. “It’s okay to panic around this stuff. No one here blames you for that. But you’re doing your best to help. And that’s what matters. You just have to try and stay strong, okay?”

She pressed her lips tightly. “Okay.”

Dean came sauntering over. “So, the tape. The security footage– you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it, ‘cause I just don't have that kind of jurisdiction.”

Rebecca gave us a sheepish grin. “I've already got it. I didn't wanna say something in front of the cop.” Dean and Sam gave her an impressed look. “I stole it off the lawyer's desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“Awesome.” Dean whispered under his breath.

 

The four of us were huddled at Rebecca’s computer at her parents’ house, watching the tape play.

“Here he comes.” Rebecca pointed to a figure on the security footage.

“22:04, that's just after ten.” Dean read the timestamp. “You said, time of death was about 10:30.”

“Our lawyers hired some kind of video expert.” Rebecca threw her hands in defeat. “He says the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with.” There was a flash of light in Zack’s eyes, or rather the skinwalker, on the footage.

“Do you think I could have another water?” I asked Rebecca.

Sam seemed to catch on. “A couple of beers too, please.”

“Oh, sure.” Rebecca went to stand up.

“And maybe some sandwiches?” Dean added.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “What do you think this is, Hooters?” But she gave a laugh and walked away into the kitchen.

“So, what is it?” Dean asked me and Sam.

“Look.” Sam replayed the footage. “His eyes.”

Dean leaned in closer. “Well, maybe it’s just a camera flare.”

“That's not like any camera flare I've ever seen.” Sam refuted. “You know, a lot of cultures believe that a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul.”

“Right.” Dean hummed in thought.

“Remember that dog that was freakin' out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zack's, something that looks like him but isn't him.”

“Like a Doppelganger.”

“Yeah. It'd sure explain how he was two places at once.”

 

“5:00 AM is a little too early.” I rubbed my eyes. I’d been dragged out of bed at 5:00 AM, and what for?

“Come on, Sharon.” Sam said.

I groaned and rolled out of the car.

“Alright, so what are we doin' here at 5:30 in the morning?” Dean sighed.

“I realized something. The videotape shows the killer goin' in, but not comin’ out.”

“So, he came out the back door?” Dean tapped my shoulder to keep me awake.

“Right. So, there should be a trail to follow. A trail the police would never pursue.”

“‘Cause they think the killer never left. And they caught your friend Zack inside.”

“So why at 5:30 AM are we here?” I yawned. God, I was sleepy. I hated this. I’d only gotten 4 hours and I was not at a functioning level yet.

I was too sleepy to follow Sam as he looked up at telephone poles. I took a seat on Baby’s hood.

“Blood. Somebody came this way.”

“Yeah, but the trail ends. I don't see anything over here.” Dean remarked.

“Ah!” I squeaked when a bunch of colorful lights and loud sirens blinded me and deafened me.

“Let’s go check it out.” Sam ushered me into the car.

“Maybe someone fell off their bed or something.” I groaned. Were we seriously doing this this early? I needed my beauty sleep.

As it turned out, no. It wasn’t someone falling off their bed. It was someone being arrested for another murder.

I watched Dean get out of the car and start questioning people. “What happened?”

“He tried to kill his wife. Tied her up and beat her.” someone from the crowd answered.

“I used to see him going to work in the morning. He'd wave, say hello. He seemed like such a nice guy.” someone else said.

I watched as the man got shoved into the police car and taken away in handcuffs. Was he even the one that killed his wife? Hah! Of course not. It was a skinwalker.

 

“Feeling more awake?” Sam cracked a smile when I stood on my tippy toes to peer over the edge of the other garbage can.

“Kind of.” I held back a yawn.

“Hey.” Dean had gotten back from taking a tour of the front and backyard. “Remember when I said this wasn't our kind of problem?”

“Yeah.” Sam looked almost happy to have gotten it right.

“Definitely our kind of problem.”

“What’d you find out?”

“Well, I just talked to the patrolman who was first on the scene. Heard this guy, Alex's story. Apparently the dude was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked.”

“So, he was two places at once.”

“Exactly. Then he sees himself in the house. Police think he's a nutjob.”

“Two dark doubles attacking loved ones in exactly the same way.”

“Could be the Same thing doin' it, too.”

“Shapeshifter?”

Dean shrugged.

“Something that can make itself look like anyone?”

“Every culture in the world has a shapeshifter lore. You know, legends of creatures who can transform themselves into animals or other men.”

“We've got two attacks within blocks of each other. I'm guessin' we've got a shapeshifter prowlin' the neighborhood.”

“Let me ask you this– in all this shapeshifter lore, can any of them fly?” What? Skinwalkers can fly? Since when? Or was this something that the TV show had missed?

“Not that I know of.”

“I picked up a trail here. Someone ran out the back of this building and headed off this way.” Sam pointed in a direction.

“Just like your friend's house.”

“Yeah. And, just like at Zack's house, the trail suddenly ends. I mean, whatever it is just disappeared.”

Oh, so it wasn’t about flying. It was about disappearing. Wasn’t the skinwalker hiding in the sewage pipes?

“Well, there's another way to go.” Dean said. I looked down on where I was standing. A manhole cover. I hopped off the thing. “Down.”

 

I officially hated manholes. I held the flashlight with a couple of fingers as I slowly made my way down the manhole. I could feel my hands chafing at the roughness of the rusty metal rungs and my shoes kept threatening to slip off the stupid rungs that were damp with moisture from all the pipes running through the tunnels.

Manholes sucked. I’d heard so many horror stories of workers forgetting to close manholes or the cities opening them during floods and then people falling inside or drowning to their deaths inside them. And man, they stank . Like, dude, even if there were rats living inside these things, why the hell did it stink so bad? I finally understood my mom’s relentless nagging to open up the window to let in fresh air and sunlight.

I leapt off the final rung. Finally. And as much as I wanted to take a deep breath after climbing 20 feet underground I chose not to. The stench was overbearing even for my terrible olfactory senses.

“I bet this runs right by Zack's house, too. The shapeshifter could be using the sewer system to get around.” Sam commented.

“I think you're right. Look at this.” Dean pointed to a pile of skin and blood on one of the pipes.

“Ewww.” I cringed away in disgust. “My friend called that lasagna.”

“Your friend?” Sam looked confused.

“Who?” Dean demanded.

“Uh.” How was I going to tell them that this was a comment of a friend who lived in the other world and watched the first season after I screamed about the show? “He sent me a picture of it. Looked like lasagna. I had to agree.”

“Oh,” Sam realised. “From your world. Where this is a TV show.”

“They showed you all that?” Dean nodded in amusement. “Are they even allowed to show such things?”

“There’s nothing my friends and I didn’t watch or know about by the time we were adults.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memories. “We couldn’t exactly tell our parents though. So we would pretend like the TV was buffering when they walked in. Or switch tabs.” Dean walked a little ahead of us.

“How did you pretend that the TV is buffering?” Sam fell in step beside me.

“We had streaming services. You could watch whatever show you wanted whenever you wanted.”

“Huh. And you guys watched them on your laptop?”

“We connected the laptop to the TV.”

“Wow.”

“There’s more lasagna here.” Dean called a ways down the tunnel.

Great. So it was just going to be called lasagna now?

“Is this from his victims, then?” Sam got closer to the next sample.

“You know, I just had a sick thought. When the shapeshifter changes shape– maybe it sheds.”

“That is sick.” Sam and I nodded in agreement.

“Well, now that we know it’s a shapeshifter.” Dean turned back around. “Let’s go get our weapons and kill this son of a bitch.”

 

“Well, one thing I learned from Dad, is that no matter what kind of shapeshifter it is, there's one sure way to kill it.” Dean handed me a round of silver bullets.

“Silver bullet to the heart.” Sam accepted his set.

I unloaded the iron round in my handgun and replaced it with the silver.

“That's right.” Dean loaded up his own gun.

Sam’s cell phone rang. “This is Sam… We're near Zack's, we're just checkin' some things out… What are you talkin' about?… Why would you do that? … Bec–”

Dean and I watched with concern as his face fell and he retreated away from us. Poor baby.

“I-i’m sorry, but–” He clenched his jaw and lowered the phone from his ear.

“Sam, I’m sorry.” I slowly walked up to him.

“I hate to say it, but that's exactly what I'm talkin' about. You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you, they'd be freaked. It's just– it'd be easier if–”

“If I was like you two.” Sam looked down at his shoes.

“Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people.” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. “But I'll tell you one thing. This whole gig– it ain't without perks.”

Sam eyed the gun in his hands and then the ones tucked into mine and Dean’s jeans. He let out a long breath and straightened up. “Let’s go.”

 

As I was halfway down the manhole, I suddenly remembered. Rebecca. Wasn’t she attacked in her home by Dean? Well, not Dean, but the shapeshifter in Dean’s skin? And then the thing became Rebecca to attack Sammy. Wow. What a mess. But maybe I could solve that mess.

“I need to get back up.” I called out to Sam who was above me on the rungs.

“What? Why?” Dean said from down below.

“Because. There’s something I need to do!”

Save Rebecca from getting hurt and making sure that she knew that Sam and Dean were really here to help her.

“You wanna go alone?” Sam said from atop.

“Well– yeah. I mean I’ll be fine.” I jumped off the last rung and let Sam finish the climb down so I could get back up. 

“Seriously?” Dean reached out to grab my hand. “You wanna take on a shapeshifter alone?”

“Well, silver bullet to the heart.” I smiled and waved the gun in front of him. “I’ll be okay.” I sure as hell hoped so. “I’ll be up in the city, making sure it doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

Dean stared at me for a moment before nodding. “Fine, but do what you have to do to stay alive. And pick up your phone when we call you.”

“I know.”

“If you don’t pick up, we’ll come looking for you.” Sam added. “Stay safe,”

“I will.” I started climbing back out.

 

I sat on my bike in front of Rebecca’s door and debated. ‘To go in or not to go in, that is the question’. My question was answered though when Rebecca swung the door open with her lips pressed together in a line. “Why are you here?”

“To help you.” I answered.

“Oh, by messing up Zack’s case even more?”

The people around us were starting to take note of the yelling match. I took the keys off my bike and slowly walked closer to Rebecca.

“Stay back.” Rebecca took a step back, covering herself with the door.

“I’m putting down my gun.” I raised my hands to show her I meant no harm.

She watched with wide eyes. “ What? ”

I lifted my jacket to show her where it rested in my jeans. “I’m putting it down.” I slowly got the gun out and dropped it on the cement pathway. “There. I just wanna talk.”

She nodded and reached for the gun. “I’m gonna put this far away.”

“That’s fine by me.”

A few minutes later, I had been allowed to sit on the couch on the condition that the gun would be kept in the opposite corner of the room. I fiddled with the silver ring on my finger. It wasn’t a weapon by any means, but I could use it to identify whether the person that arrived at her door was really one of the brothers or the skinwalker.

“Okay, I’m gonna need you to stay very calm.” I started.

She nodded her head slowly. “What is it?”

“We think that–”

“‘We’ as in you, Dean, and Sam?”

“Yes.”

“And why should I trust you? You three lied about his profession.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry for that. It was the only way we would have been allowed to see the scene and get the footage to determine what we were dealing with.”

“What do you mean?”

“We think it’s a shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifter?” Rebecca paused for a moment before bursting into laughter. “What an awesome joke. You can take your leave now.”

“No, I’m serious.” I looked her dead in the eye. Realisation seemed to dawn on her but she refused to believe it. “This is what we do. We hunt monsters of all kinds. It’s kind of the family business.”

“Family business… Does that mean that Sam too…?”

I nodded. “Yeah, Sam too.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Your brother was at two places at once. You can’t tell me you actually think that your brother did that and that you were too buzzed to realise he left at 10:00 and not midnight.”

She swallowed dryly. “I know it wasn’t him. But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“The security cam footage. There was a light in his eyes.”

“The police said it was a camera flare.”

“Camera flares don’t look like that. I can show you.”

For the next few minutes, I educated her on the topic of camera flares. She was a fast learner. Her jaw was slack when she saw the footage of ‘Zack’ walking into his house again. “You’re right. It’s not the same. But- but how did the police not–”

“Because police don’t exactly go looking for shapeshifting criminals. We do. Pure silver. It burns shapeshifters. That gun, it’s loaded with silver bullets. Bullet to the heart and the shifter is dead.”

My phone suddenly rang. “One sec, I should get that–”

Suddenly the phone was knocked out of my hands. “What–” I turned around to look at Rebecca. She had stood up and was leaning across the table. “What’s wrong…?” Had I threatened her somehow? “I’m not going to hurt you.” I extended my hands to her as a peace offering. My phone was still ringing. “See? I have nothing on me.” She grabbed my left wrist and twisted.

I screamed and a resounding crack echoed through the room. It was definitely broken. So why was Rebecca also yelping in pain? I looked down at the hand that had been holding me and realised that the skin had been burned off of Rebecca. My silver ring. It had burned her. I looked up to see her snarling. Shit. That wasn’t Rebecca. That was the shapeshifter.

I raced for the living room where ‘Rebecca’ had kept my gun with silver bullets.

But obviously the shapeshifter was faster. It grabbed onto my legs and tore through my flesh. Fucking hell. I bit my lip to keep the screams inside and tried to force my legs out of its grip. God, it hurt. It hurt so bad.

I fixed my eyes on a chair within sight. Could I move that thing and get the creature to let go?

“AH!” I couldn’t help but shriek when I felt teeth sinking into my calf muscles.

Okay, okay, only one way to find out.

Chair falls over. Hits shapeshifter on the head. Shapeshifter lets go.

My head hurt as the chair did rock from side to side. The world was starting to spin, but I replayed the scene of the chair falling over and over again.

And then suddenly the creature let go.

Time to run. I scrambled onto my feet and ran. I shoved as many things as I could to create obstacles between me and the shapeshifter. Chairs, tables, couches, vases? Anything and everything would slow the thing down. I managed to make it to the living room and grabbed my gun.

But I was too weak to fight it. Blood was trickling down my legs and I felt weak. And I could taste the blood trickling down from my nose to my mouth. I bolted for the door, only to be caught by the creature again.

It spun me around and slammed me against the door to the house and breathed down my neck. Ew. Its breath was hot and wet. And it stank. It stank like the graves we dug up. It stank like dead people.

“I kinda like you.” it spoke.

I forced my face away from it. What could I do to get it off of me? It took too much concentration to even stay awake right now. I wondered if I was dizzy from the blood loss or the use of my powers. Where was the stupid angel when I needed him?

Breathing was difficult, and my eyes were foggy. The creature was giving some speech on acceptance or something. I trained my eyes on the family photo I’d been looking at.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out–

My head was jerked so that I was looking into angry brown eyes with flashes of silver. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” the thing snarled.

But with the sudden movement of my head, what little vision I had left, faded.

 

When I woke up, I was tied to a chair in the sewer. There was blood all over my legs, and I could feel it dried and caked up on my face. Were my legs still bleeding? Considering how dry they were, I doubted so. This sucked. This sucked so bad.

“Did he get you too?” I heard Rebecca’s whisper. I looked to my side and saw her tied up in ropes in a chair, just like me. “Oh my God, there’s so much blood.” she gasped.

I didn’t have the strength to nod or say ‘yeah’. I settled for wiggling my fingers instead. Pain shot through my arm. Oh, right. I had a broken left wrist. I chose to focus my energy on moving my right hand instead. I felt around the ropes to gauge any weakness in the tying. My ring was still on, and the ropes around my left hand felt lighter. The shapeshifter was probably avoiding the silver ring like the plague. Good.

As I worked the ropes slowly, I could vaguely hear Rebecca mumble and cry out apology after apology. God, could people shut up for just one second? Hah, like I had any right to do that. I rambled when I was exhausted too. Or at least I used to. With all the burdens everyone around me carried and the limits on what I could say, I’d long since learned to stick to internal monologues. Eight years of practiced internal monologuing and I still wanted to say everything out loud. I thought I would be used to it, but I still wanted them to know me, hear me, understand my pain. But I couldn’t. My life was great.

With another tug, the ropes felt infinitely looser. I felt them releasing my hands and I threw my head back in a moment of relief. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the glint of my gun. Thank God. The shapeshifter was an idiot. Or rather, a narcissist. It really thought I couldn’t undo my bindings. I almost wanted to laugh. Its own pride was its shortcoming. But so was mine.

“Are you mad at me…?” whimpered Rebecca.

I rolled my head to her and mouthed ‘no’. I grit my teeth and stood up. Pain shot through my whole body and I lost my balance. I quickly reached for the chair to hold myself up but hissed when my left wrist made contact with the wood. Curse getting hurt.

“Sorry,” I clenched my eyes shut to regain my bearings. “Kinda hurts.” The world stopped spinning as much and I made my way towards Rebecca. I pressed my ring against her hands.

She jumped. I stiffened. “That’s cold.” she gave a small laugh. Right, her skin didn’t burn either. “What’s going on?”

“Shapeshifter.” I told her. The ropes fell away from her hands.

She nodded. “I wouldn’t have believed you, but– that thing turned into me– and then it turned into you– I watched it change shapes. So– I believe you.” She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m assuming Sam told you what I said over the phone.” I hummed in response. “I’m sorry for saying all those things.” She looked dejected.

I made my way to the corner of the room we were in and grabbed my gun. It was still loaded. Stupid stupid monsters. “It’s fine.” I grabbed her hand and started pulling her out of the tunnel. “We’re underground. So we gotta get out.” I didn’t have my phone on me either. What a pain. I looked at my floppy wrist. “You might wanna get out first. Push the manhole open. It’ll take some strength.”

“What about you?”

I looked at my wrist. Her eyes fell on it too and her mouth formed an ‘O’. “Sh-should I go get help?”

“It could have transformed again. I don’t want you to take the risk. But. It’s weak to silver. If you can find anything that’s pure silver, then you should use it. Silver will burn its skin, but it won’t kill it unless you can get the silver to its heart.”

I stared at my gun. Should I give it to her? What if the creature came back? Maybe going out with her was the best option. It would hurt like hell, but I could defend us both that way. I didn’t even have anything to tie and stabilize my wrist, and no strength to rip my shirt or pants to make a makeshift splint.

“Never mind. I’m coming too.” I took the lead. I grit my teeth and started the climb back out. I kept my gun in the back pocket of my jeans and used my elbow to grip onto the rungs instead.

‘Slow and steady wins the race.’ I loved that quote.

I wedged my foot into the gap between the cement wall of the shaft and the rung and pushed with my right arm on the manhole cover. It wouldn’t budge. I was much weaker than the boys who had been removing them for the duration of this case.

Curses.

“Are we good?” Rebecca called from below me.

“We will be.” I told her.

Change of tactics. I unlodged my foot and settled it a little closer to the cover and shoved with my shoulders instead. I felt it budge a little. Good. With a few more shoves than I would have liked, I managed to slip the cover off a tiny bit. I pressed my lips together. I could do this. With a final grunt, I had made enough of an opening for me to wiggle out.

Rebecca came out soon after and collapsed onto the road next to me. “We’re alive.”

“Yeah,” I stood up and started looking for a telephone I could use. I spotted a pay phone a few feet away. “I need to call Dean and Sam.”

“I have a few quarters.” Rebecca offered me a few coins from the bottom of her jean pockets.

“Thanks.” I punched in Dean’s number. It took a few rings, but he finally picked up.

“Hello?” came Dean’s voice. It sounded like he was running around. But was it really him? “Hellooo?” he drawled. “Who is it?”

I looked at Rebecca still standing outside the booth. I would have to take my chances. “Dean?”

“Sharon.” I could hear him stop.

“Sharon?” I could hear Sam’s faint voice from the other side. Okay, so either one of them was bad or none of them were. I would be safe. “Where are you?”

“A payphone by a Gas-n-Sip. I… I dunno the address. The place is closed too. I don’t know if it’s been abandoned or just closed for the night.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll be right there.”

I hung up and stepped outside the booth. Rebecca had crouched down and curled into a ball on the sidewalk. “They’re coming.”

“What if it’s one of them?” she shook.

“Won’t be.” I showed her my ring. “This thing. Is pure silver. If Dean’s wearing it, then we’re good.”

“What if he’s wearing something that just looks like it?”

“Then I’ll make him take it off and show me the inside.” I slipped off the silver band and showed her the inside of it. “Mine has his name carved into it.” ‘Dean Winchester’ in beautiful loopy cursive. His full name. ‘So you don’t forget who belongs to you.’ he’d said. “He learned cursive just for this.” I couldn’t help but smile. “And it’s gonna take a damn long time to carve it in too. I doubt the shapeshifter has time for that.” I put the ring back into its place.

Rebecca swallowed. “Okay, then.”

 

When the Impala pulled up, I had my gun ready and aimed at the brothers. “Dean, take off your ring.” I demanded.

Dean too took aim in my direction. “You too.” he demanded. We both held our guns in our right hand and wiggled off the silver bands. I winced with every motion as it hurt my wrist even more. “Show me the inside.”

“Yours first.”

“No you.”

“No you.”

Great. We were getting nowhere.

“Okay, how about we just give them to each other.”

“Put the gun down first.”

“Okay.” We slowly lowered the guns. I kept my eyes on him the whole time. What if he jumped me? We exchanged rings. I lifted the ring up to eye level so I could see Dean even while reading the carving inside. Dean did the same. ‘Sharon Winchester’ was carved in neat cursive.

“Dean,” I relaxed. I picked up my gun and tucked it into my pocket.

“Sharon,” he eyed me up and down with worry. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah.” I was a mess. Covered in blood. Even then, he pulled me against his chest. “You might need stitches.”

“I know. My wrist is broken for sure.” Dean pulled away and dove into the backseat to get out the first aid kit that resided in a rusty lead box. “I’m gonna set the bone. Okay? Hold on.” He started wrapping my wrist tightly. I clenched my teeth to not scream in pain every time he moved it. How had my teeth not shattered yet?

“So we’re all clean?” Sam asked.

Rebecca burst into tears when she heard Sam speak. “Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.” she sobbed. “I had no idea.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Sam rubbed her arms up and down.

“Wait, so where’s the shifter now?” Dean suddenly stiffened.

“It was Sharon the last time I saw it.” Rebecca answered.

“Great, so we get to kill me?” I shuddered. Hang on, if it was me right now, then– I felt in my pockets. “My keys.” I looked at Dean.

“He took your bike.” Sam realised. “I’ll run the plates.” he slid into the passenger seat and started banging away on the keyboard.

“Let’s get you patched up.” Dean sat me down in the backseat with my legs hanging out the open door. He sat down on the sidewalk and started cutting my jeans to get to my wounds. I gripped his shoulders as the alcohol he used as disinfectant stung every bit of open skin I had. He then started on the stitches. It hurt so bad. Every nerve was on fire. I took in shaky breaths as I watched that god awful needle move in and out of my skin. I couldn’t watch. He let me hold onto him, whispering little compliments to remind me he was there.

By the time he was done stitching me up, I had flopped back on the seats with sweat soaked clothes.

“Traffic violation a few streets away.” Sam informed. “So it's out of Rebecca’s at least. We can drop her off–”

“No, I’m coming with.” Rebecca cut in. “I want to see this thing that did this to my brother.”

“But Rebecca, this thing, it’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

“We’re running out of time. Let’s get that thing before it turns Sharon into a killer.” Dean helped me sit up. “Sam, you drive. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Is she okay?”

“I’m fine.” I swatted Dean away. “Hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

“If you say so,” Dean threw me another pair of jeans and a new top. “Help her into that would you?”

Rebecca replaced him and helped me slip into my fresh clothes. “You look better.” She pushed back my messy hair to reveal my face. “Can I wipe that blood off you?” I nodded. Her hands shook as she got the last bit of blood off my face.

“I look awful.”

“You look fine.” Everyone in the car chimed. Sure, whatever.

 With some rock song on blast, we sped down till we found my bike parked in front of another small house. I handed Rebecca a gun loaded with silver and a home camera. “You see something that resembles a camera flare through this, you shoot.”

“It’s inside.” Dean got out of the car as did Sam. Rebecca and I did the same. I was exhausted but I wasn’t going to let me be on the FBI Watchlist either.

“Sam with Rebecca.” Dean instructed. “Sharon with me.”

We all nodded.

 

“More lasagna.” Sam muttered.

“Lasagna?” Rebecca crinkled her nose at the sight. “How’s that– Oh it sure looks like it.” she gagged. “Now I can’t eat.”

“That makes two of us.” Sam chuckled.

“We’ll take downstairs.” Dean told them. And so we all split up. I stuck close to Dean with my finger on the trigger. Dean held up my iPhone and scanned the room.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he held it up to his ear. “What is it?”

“We have a dead woman in the bedroom.”

“Dead man in the living room too.” Dean stepped aside to let me see.

Reality hit me like a truck when I spotted him. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

“What?” Dean turned around. “What do you mean?”

“No one else was supposed to die.” I caused this. I caused an innocent couple to die.

“You couldn’t have known this was gonna happen.” Dean said gently. “It’s not like you can predict the future.”

I shouldn’t have tried to change the story. This was all my fault.

“Let’s keep looking.” Dean placed a hand on my back and guided me past the corpse. We made our way to the kitchen. And there it was. The shapeshifter was doubled over on the floor in the form of a naked man. Specifically the naked form of the man in the living room.

Dean took aim and shot the creature. It screamed as the silver bullet burned into its body. It turned around with a snarl and I took a shot too, but I just missed its heart. Taking aim with one hand was harder than I thought. Sam and Rebecca came rushing down.

“What’s wrong? Is it dead?!” Rebecca cried.

Dean shot one more time, this time right in the heart, and the creature fell dead. But I had a bad feeling about this. I made my way over to the dead creature. And looked at what it had been hunched over. A little girl. Half her body had been ripped away. I felt sick. She couldn’t have been a day older than five. I stumbled back and tripped over the shapeshifter.

No. This couldn’t be happening. How. I was trying to save people. How had I ended up being the one to cause their deaths. I could hear Dean rushing next to me and holding me up. “Breathe,” he repeated. Over and over again. But I couldn’t. I’d just killed a little girl. I’d just become the reason for an innocent family’s death. This was all my fault. All my fault.

Someone was screaming and crying. And it sounded like myself.

 

“You sure you wanna drive on your own?” Dean leaned against my Kawasaki as I scrubbed the inside of my helmet. Disgusting shape shifter skin cells were all over it. “If you want, Sam or I can drive it and you can relax in the Impala.”

“No.” I kept scrubbing.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” I fixed him with a stare. “I caused the kid’s death. The family’s death. No one was supposed to die in this case. Other than the shape shifter.”

“You couldn’t have known you would change so many things. And everyone is bound to make different decisions, you know? Different times, different decisions. Hey, it's fifty-fifty if I want chocolate or strawberry syrup on my waffles.”

“This isn’t as simple as wanting syrup on waffles.” I lifted my helmet to the sun. Its black coat sparkled.

“We can get you a Palm Pilot.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Hey,” Dean stepped closer. He tried to put an arm around my waist.

“No,” I chewed the inside of my mouth to keep myself from crying. “Let’s just go.”

“Sammy’s still bye to Bec.”

“Then– get Baby started up– or something.” I fumbled for my keys in my jacket. “I’m gonna go fill her up. The thing used up what little I had left.”

“I’ll come with.”

“No,” I wanted to cry.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I can.” I shrugged off his attempts at pulling me close. “And I will.”

“No, no.” he pinned my arms to my side and pulled me against him. “No baby.” he kissed the top of my head. “I’m not letting you go till you realise this ain’t your fault.”

I felt my breath grow shakier and shakier. I couldn’t break down. Not like this. Not in front of him. I wasn’t weak.

“You can cry.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I won’t think any less of you.”

I let my bottom lip go from between my teeth and sagged against him. I hid my face in his chest and sobbed. “I’m sorry,”

“I know.” he whispered. “It wasn’t your fault. But I know you’re sorry.” he held me tighter. “That little girl knows that too, you know. We’ll just have to be faster next time. So, don’t blame yourself.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Shh, I know. I know. It’s okay. We’ll save the next one.”

“P-promise?” I looked up into his beautiful green eyes.

“Promise.” He sealed it with a soft kiss.

Notes:

No srsly. A friend of mine took a screenshot of the pile of skin and flesh and told me that lasagna has never looked more appetising. He said he would eat that if it was Dean's skin. And honestly? Same. Dean lasagna sounds delicious.
...
I'm sorry for existing. I'm gonna kms now.

In all seriousness though Sam has been kind of taking the back bench for the last few chapters. Mostly this is because Sammy baby is keeping his nightmares and predictions a bit of a secret, and another because Dean is both their pillars in this fic. So he ends up supporting both of them at different times. It's gonna all change as the chapters go by. Hopefully. I don't know what I type. We'll see what happens. :)

Chapter 13: Hookman

Summary:

“Bobby thinks of you as his own daughter. So does Dad. Sam’s been following you like a puppy since you got here. And to me– you’re my wife. So stay. Please.”

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Mentions of race, is that triggering for some?
2. Very narrow minded descriptions of sororities
3. Anxiety? Depression?
P.S. Do not come at me with pitchforks for this chapter. All of Sharon's opinions in this chapter is based off of my own personal experiences and the way I felt at the moment. But remember that she never had the chance to sort out her situation because of the abrupt lifestyle change. She is not perfect. She isn't meant to be perfect at all. Her flaws are what makes her her. So please put those pitchforks away, I mean no harm to anyone. She's just a character doing her best with my trashy writing.

I looked into Sam’s hazel eyes as he spilled everything about his dream with Jessica. He’d seen her die over and over again in his nightmares. It was why he’d been so quick to catch onto what was happening even when Dean was struggling to get a grip on the situation.

“I need you,” he pleaded. “Please stay.”

“I don’t want to– you know– mess things up again.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’d killed that family and they just never showed it on screen.” He was right. “That was a TV show. And this is reality. A lot of things could be different. You don’t know.”

I nodded. All good points. “Okay,” I let out a shaky breath and leaned back on my arms.

“So… we’re good…? You’ll stay?” Sam looked down at me from his spot on the other bed.

I pressed my lips together to not burst into tears again and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll stay,” I cleared my throat. “And those nightmares of yours– don’t worry too much. But try to distinguish them from normal nightmares.”

“Just as I thought. They really aren’t normal.” He laced his fingers together and knelt forward on his knees. “Jess was gonna die. You saved her. Thank you.”

“If you wanna talk about those dreams… then I’m always here,” I offered him my support. It was only fair. The kid in front of me was a constant wall of support. It was the least I could do as his older sister to do the same.

“I got beer!” Dean sang as he walked in through the door. “And coke.” he threw a bottle in my direction that I instinctively dodged. He cringed when the bottle almost fell off the bed it had plopped on. “This might be the last night all three of us share a motel room. So let’s make it good!”

“I’m staying,” I couldn’t help but smile at the real smile that took over the one he had been forcing.

“Yes!” he cheered. “Bottle, Sammy?”

“Yes please,” Sam broke a grin too.

 

And the next week after a long ride, we were at an outdoor cafe, sitting under those thin plastic umbrellas that did little to nothing to block out the sun. The only reason we were even here was because of the sheer number of locals that were chilling in this small place. Dean was digging into a pile of pancakes that had too much butter and too much syrup. I shuddered at the amount. How did men eat that much, I had no idea.

He leaned over my shoulder to see what I was doing on the laptop. “First one.” he said through a mouthful of pancake.

I smacked his shoulder. “Don’t talk while chewing.” I clicked on the first link. “Ankeny, Iowa…” I blinked at the words two lines under. “‘The attacker was invisible’?” I scrolled through the article.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin' cold over here, Francis.”

“Bite me,” I looked up as Sam sat down defending his cup of coffee.

“So, anything?” Dean asked. There was eagerness in his eyes but he sounded like he’d accepted that they would never get to find their Dad so easily.

“I had ‘em check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank.” Sam stared into his cup, looking dejected. “No John Doe's fitting Dad's description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I'm tellin' ya, I don't think Dad wants to be found.” Dean swallowed the last piece.

“We might have a case though.” I spun the laptop towards Sam who squinted at the screen.

“‘The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on 9 Mile Road.’” He read. “What’s so special about…” I reached over the laptop to scroll a little lower. “Oh.”

“Sole eyewitness says the attacker was invisible.”

“Could be something interesting.” Dean mentioned.

“Or it could be nothing at all.” Sam shrugged. “One freaked out witness who didn't see anything? Doesn't mean it's the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out.” Dean insisted.

Sam thought for a moment before tipping his coffee cup all the way back. “Fine. Let’s go.”

 

We stopped at a frat house. I wiggled my key out of the ignition and eyed the white building. I’d never been to a frat house, not even during college. It had been go to classes, hang out with friends in the hallway outside classes, then go back home and study for classes. There had been no room or time for boys.

“You might wanna wait out here.” Sam mentioned.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll stay outside. You boys go and make some friends.”

“With our new roommates!” Dean said loudly when a frat boy walked past. “Stick to yourself, sweetheart.”

I fixed a blank stare on the guy across the street with a beer bottle in his hand. “You don’t have to tell me that twice.”

“We’ll be back as soon as we find what we need.” Sam said gently and hurried inside. “Come on Dean. Let's finish this quick.”

I kept my guard up and held onto my helmet tightly. Anyone tried to make a move and I would smash their head in with it. Being outside a frat house as a woman on a bike was hardly a safe idea. Frat boys didn’t care about who they banged as long as it added to their body count.

I ignored the hoots and catcalls being thrown in my direction. Should I just send Dean and Sam a message and wait at the gas station we were at earlier? Actually, probably even the gas station wasn’t safe. Frat boys owned cars more often than not, and cars needed gas.

I stiffened when a hand landed around my shoulder.

“Hey, nice ride.”

I could smell the alcohol on this dude’s breath. I gave him the side eye and shrugged off his arm. I hated this. Did people not understand personal space?

“Is it really that hard to get a ride?”

I knew he wasn’t talking about my bike. I put my helmet back over my head and shifted my weight to kick up the kickstand. I gripped my keys between my fingers even as the guy continued saying things. Persistent little prick.

“Oh, come on sweetheart.”

I swung my leg off my bike and hit the guy square in the ribs. Only Dean called me ‘sweetheart’. Anyone else could go eff themselves.

“Bitch!” the frat boy spat. “You don’t know who my father is!”

Seriously, I didn’t know who his father was.

A bunch of other guys snickered. Shoot, I’d drawn a crowd. I turned around to get back on my bike. Until a hand decided to smack my rear. Alright. That was it. This was war. I took off my helmet and threw it into the Impala parked on my other side.

“Ohhh, she’s mad.” said one of the boys. Alright, he was third.

I took a step towards the guy that had dared to touch me. He was full of openings. I swung a punch at his jaw. My knuckles rattled with the force, and the guy stumbled while holding onto his now bleeding mouth. Awesome.

Now for the guy that had called me a bitch. Well, he was already swinging drunkenly in my direction. Easy. I held my palms open in his direction as he charged. I held his wrist with one hand when he got close enough and smacked his shoulder in the middle to send him crashing into the sidewalk. Self defence classes went hard. I held back a grin when the other guys started muttering amongst themselves. They didn’t deserve my reaction.

Alright, time for the third guy. I heard footsteps behind me and turned so I could see him from the corner of my eye. I rocked back and stuck out a foot. He went stumbling into another guy and they both fell to the sidewalk. It was fun beating up drunk guys.

I spotted another guy taking a video across the street. I held up a hand as if beckoning him closer. He breathed in sharply before turning tail and running. By the time I turned around, the boys that had gathered around me were stumbling backwards.

Hmph! Weaklings.

“That was a good show.” I heard Dean’s voice beside me.

I turned around and relaxed under his gaze. “Where were you when I was being ganged up on?”

“Those guys were drunk.” Dean stifled a laugh. “They weren’t much of a threat.”

“You handled that really well,” Sam added. “Dean was a little worried.”

Dean scoffed. “No, I wasn’t.”

Sam raised an eyebrow.

Dean groaned. “I knew she could handle it alright? But what if one of the guys pulled out a knife?”

“I’ll pull out my gun.” I lifted my jacket to remind him.

“Oh, right.”

“So, what did you guys find out?”

“Other than your awesome fighting skills? We have a hot reverend’s daughter to find.”

“Like the reverend is hot, or the daughter is hot? Cause I’m down for a handsome reverend.”

Sam choked. “The daughter.”

“Can we go now?” Dean was already opening the door to the Impala. “I wanna see this Lori Sorensen.”

 

By the time we got to the Church, service was almost over.

Dean, Sam, and I chose to sit in the last row to not attract any attention. But a bunch of eyes were on us already. We didn’t exactly look the part for Church, and the tussle with the boys from earlier had messed up my hair even more.

I gave a nod to the old lady who was looking at us curiously. She gave a warm smile and turned back around. Thank God for sweet old ladies.

I vaguely paid attention to the reverend’s speech. “Our hearts go out to the family of a young man who perished. And my personal prayers of thanks go out as well because I believe he died trying to protect my daughter.” A pretty blonde in the front looked down and her cheeks reddened slightly. “And now, as time heals all our wounds, we should reflect on what this tragedy means. To us, as a church.” the Reverend raised his arms as if embracing the entire room. Cheey. “As a community, and as a family. The loss of a young person is particularly tragic. A life unlived is the saddest of passings. So, please, let us pray.”

‘Lettuce pray, ramen.’  I sucked in my cheeks to keep myself from bursting into giggles. God, even in my mid 20s the memes refused to leave my brain.

“For peace, for guidance, and for the power to protect our children.”

Everyone bowed their heads in silent prayer. I peeked out of the curtain of my hair and realised that Dean had zoned out and not even realised he needed to lower his head. Sam was already on it though and shoved Dean’s head down to his knees. Man, I missed those moments with my own brother.

 

Mass ended after another prayer. Finally. My back was starting to hurt from keeping it straight to look even remotely interested. We hung out in the back for a while. Lori Sorensen was in the middle of hugging her friend. Once the crowd had mostly dissipated, Lori made her way towards the exit.

“Um, hey.” I put on a smile as I approached her. “My name is Sharon. That’s my boyfriend Dean, and his brother Sam.” She looked confused. “Would you happen to be Lori?”

“We just transferred to your university.” Dean flashed a flirty smile.

“We heard about what had happened. And we just wanted to offer our condolences.” Sam said with his best sympathetic look.

“It must have been horrible.” I threw in.

“Yeah, we’re extremely sorry.” Dean nodded along.

Lori nodded slowly. She spotted the Reverend walking towards us and stepped aside a little to do introductions. “Dad, um, this is Sharon, Dean and Sam. They're new students.”

Dean immediately went for the handshake. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon." What a lie. He had almost fallen asleep with his eyes open.

The Reverend bought it though. “Thank you very much. It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message.”

Sure. I wasn’t even Christian. I glanced at Sam and he gave me a look that said ‘keep him busy’.

“So… Reverend Sorensen?” I flashed my best good girl smile. “Did I get that right?”

The man chuckled. He seemed like a pleasant fellow. “Yes, my dear. You said you were…”

“Sharon,” I shook his hand. “We’re new in town. Transferred to the university.”

“Oh, how are you liking it so far?”

“Quite good, actually. And, uh, my fiance and I,” I looked at Dean who nudged me to start walking. “We were looking for a local Church group.”

I started walking slowly, and the Reverend followed along with Dean. success.

“Well, we do have Mass every Sunday. But we also have a few smaller Church groups catering to everyone’s special interests. We have a cooking group and a knitting group.” He said to me. Then he turned to Dean. “And we have a carpenting group as well.”

The conversation sounded like it was about to end.

“We were, uh, actually looking for something for married couples.” Dean clasped my hand in his. “We were planning to be married soon.” He kissed the back of my hand. “We have the dress and everything picked out…”

His hand was warm. It reminded me of the day he had held my hand to put the ring on it. He’d been so gentle. I had been in an over the top red and black gown instead of the classic Christian white. The dress was still in the attic at Bobby’s. My bouquet had been red roses with lavenders in between. And the wedding venue was at the largest national park in Texas. It had been a tiny affair, with Bobby walking me down the aisle, Sam being the ring bearer, and John being the officiant. There were some other Hunters there too, much to Sam’s chagrin, but he wasn’t about to miss it even for the world.

“Sharon,” I snapped back from my memory when my name was called. I quickly focused on the Reverend who was holding out his hand. “It was nice to meet you.”

I grabbed it and gave a weak shake. “It was nice to meet you too.”

Dean didn’t let go of my hand even when the man was out of sight. “You zoned out.” I could feel his eyes on me.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No, no. It's, uh, it’s fine.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed his larger hand. “Where are we going now?”

“Sammy said to meet him at the library.”

“What are we waiting for, then?”

 

“So you believe her?” Dean gave an incredulous look at Sam.

“I do.”

“Yeah, I think she’s hot too.”

“No, man, there's something in her eyes. And listen to this–” Sam excitedly leaned forward as he described Lori’s story. “She heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended?” Dean’s eyes widened at the statement. “That sounds like the–”

“Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.” Sam grinned. Okay, I knew this case. We had to burn the girl’s silver necklace. And any other thing that was made out of the silver of the dude’s hook. And we should probably salt and burn his bones too for good measure. Except I had no idea who this guy was or where he was buried.

Dean, however, scoffed. “That's one of the most famous urban legends ever. You don't think that we're dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began.”

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn't a man at all. What if it's some kind of spirit?”

Yeah the stupid silver necklace.

I couldn’t remember any more people dying in this episode. All I remembered was the cross necklace that needed to be burned. How could I forget details so quickly? It had only been eight years!

 

“Here you go. Arrest records going back to 1851.” The librarian dumped a giant box of files onto the table.

Dean blew the dust off the top of the pile. He and I both choked on the dust that flew off.

“Thanks.” Sam smiled.

“Sure,” the librarian walked away.

“So, this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?” Dean stared at the giant box.

“Welcome to higher education.” Sam smirked at his brother’s miserable look and began reading.

“You did all this too?” Dean stared in disgust as I started flipping through the files.

I blinked in guiltiness. “I used ChatGPT.”

“Chat– what?”

“ChatGPT. It’s an AI tool. Like the machine does everything for you– did wonders for my homework assignments by the way.”

Sam nodded, impressed.

“Cheater.”

“I cheated on exams, not women.”

“Dammit.”

 

Several hours and a painful coffee drink because Sam forgot my oatmilk later, Dean was ready to give up.

“We have nothing.” Dean groaned.

The library announced its closing in an hour.

“I think this is something.” I passed them the file I was reading. “In 1862, a preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder.” Dude killed 13 prostitutes in one night because Christianity and the Bible.” Man, some of these preachers were crazy. “Some of the women were found in their beds surrounded by blood. And a few others were hung upside down from trees. Something about a warning against sins and whatnot. Go to the next page.” The boys flipped it to a picture. “He had a silver hook. Because that’s what one gets when they lose their hand in an accident. Obviously. Even better is where he killed all those prostitutes.”

“9 Mile Road.” Sam looked up, excited.

“Same place the frat boy was killed.” Dean heaved a sigh of relief.

I suddenly remembered. Lori’s roommate. “I should go talk to Lori Sorensen. Her sorority is on the other side of town, right? By the diner?”

“What? You think the Hookman might attack the sorority?” Dean questioned. “That’s a long way from the 9 Mile Road.”

I fixed him with a pleading look. I couldn’t say that Lori’s roommate was going to be murdered. But surely I could save her.

“Dean, we might be able to get more information out of her.” Sam jumped in. “Besides, it’s not like men are going to be allowed in the sorority house anyway.”

Dean sighed. “Fine. I’ll write down the address–” He looked at me and realised that I still had no idea how to get around without a GPS. “Ugh, women.” He playfully rolled his eyes. I hit his shin with my shoe. He smirked. “C’mon. I’ll show you the way.”

 

My bike purred to a stop as I wiggled out the keys from the ignition. I tucked them into my jumpsuit pockets where I felt for my handgun loaded with salt bullets, thank God for pockets and hung my helmet off the handle bars. I kicked down the stand and stared at the giant three storeyed house filled with women.

Sororities were terrifying. Everyone was thin, tall, blonde, flat as a board but boys still wanted to rail them, and had blue eyes. Not to mention rich. And white.

I looked down at myself. Frayed denim jumpsuit with old worn out boots. Short, stout, curvier than the integral symbol, and hair and eyes that matched the darkness of the night.  My skin was paler than most from my country, but that could hardly compete with the whiteness of pure Redneck American women.

“Oh, hi.”

I looked up as an African-American girl walked up to me. My God, diversity? In a sorority? “Hi,” I responded.

“I saw you at Church. Talking to Lori.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m Taylor.”

“Sharon,” I grasped her pink palms in mine. They were warm. “I was wondering if I could take a look around the sorority.” I lied. “I always wanted to join one, but never got the opportunity to until I came here. Heard this was the best one.” I hated sororities. They reeked of booze and ‘you slept with my boyfriend’ and more than one catfight an hour.

Her pretty pink lips broke into a smile. “Of course. I’m one of the sisters in charge of recruiting new members.” She gave me a once over. “We do have an application fee.” Was I being looked down on?

“That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“It’s 500 to join. And 500 per month for rent.”

Oh she was definitely looking down on me. I pulled out my wallet and made a show of counting the bills. I pulled out ten 50s and shrugged before putting them back in. “I have enough to apply right now. My fiance can probably pay for the semester in cash right now too. Any other requirements I should be aware of?”

She looked a little taken aback. “Nothing else.”

I put on my best polite smile. “I think I should take a look around and see if this sorority really is a fit for me. You don’t mind, do you?”

She swallowed. “Of course not. I’ll, uh, I can show you around.”

I followed her as she showed me around. “Here is the kitchen.” There were already three girls passed out on the table with a couple more pulling out drinks from the fridge. “And we have a communal bathroom.” She opened the door to hell. The stench was foul. “Uh, sorry, cleaning day is tomorrow.” Was that supposed to make it better? “We have fifteen rooms here.” She led me upstairs. “Some are single.” She opened the door to one of the single rooms. It was tiny with a loft bed and looked like someone had barfed pink glitter everywhere. But I could respect the dedication to the theme. She opened another door. “Others are double.” I blinked at the sheer number of shirtless men on the walls. I thought my room was bad. This was somehow worse. “We have a few triple as well.” She led me to the opposite side of the house. “These are our largest rooms.” There were three beds on three different walls and a giant table in the middle where three girls were playing poker.

They looked up at me and smirked. “New member?” I could recognise disdain when I heard it.

“Maybe. If I like it enough.” I crossed my arm and pushed out my hip to define my waist a little more. “My fiance wants me to live with him,” I made sure they could see the silver of my ring glinting under the LED light strips in the room. “But I’m looking into options.”

They fell into silence. “Um, next card?”

Taylor cleared her throat and pulled the door shut. I let out a huff of satisfaction and turned around to face Taylor. “Have you felt anything strange lately? Like cold spots. Lights flickering… radio not working or whatever.”

“What?” Taylor laughed with surprise. “Are you asking about the electricity in this place?”

“Maybe you’ve seen something. Or heard something.”

“What are you talking about?” Taylor looked genuinely confused.

As if on cue, the room suddenly got several degrees colder.

“Oh my God.” Taylor’s breath came out in a fog.

I could hear a hook scrape against the wall. It was here. The ghost of Karns.

“I highly recommend getting out with everyone.” I told Taylor.

“What? Why would we do that?”

I pulled out my gun. “Because I said so.” I cocked my gun in preparation.

Taylor screamed and turned tail. Only to come face to face with a man that looked like Captain Hook.

I took aim and pulled the trigger. The salt went straight through the ghost. Taylor kept screaming the whole time. “Salt the doors and the windows.” I grasped Taylor’s hand and pulled her to an empty room. The ghost was here only for Taylor. I could kind of remember Lori’s roommate being African-American, and there weren’t any others that fit the description in this sorority.

I threw her into that room and fished out a container of rocksalt from my jacket pockets.

“Salt it.” I salted the door and handed the container to the girl. “Stay inside this room.” From the small space between the door and the floor I could see the lights flickering in the hallway. It was still here.

“What? What’s going on?” Taylor looked terrified, confused, and angry.

“It’s the man that killed the frat guy.”

“What?!”

She obviously wasn’t moving to salt the window so I snatched the container from her and did it myself. I searched the empty room for anything iron. I yanked the door to the closet open. Awesome.

I hefted the iron rod meant for hanging clothes – what were they called? – and handed it to her. “If it comes. Swing. But don’t leave the room. Okay?”

She stared with wide eyes as I kept my eyes and gun focused on the door. “I’m gonna die. We’re all gonna die.”

Oh my God, this woman was getting on my nerves. I hated sororities. “Would you shut up for a moment?”

She clammed up immediately. The scraping of something had us stiffening.

“What was that?” she whispered.

I tightened my hold on the gun. The scraping suddenly stopped. And so did the flickering of the lights. The hallway remained lit. It was gone, most likely. I kept my gun up and opened the door. ‘I will come for you’ had been etched into the fresh yellow paint, signed with a cross on the bottom of the sentence.

“Oh my God…” Taylor collapsed on the floor. “What the hell? What just happened?”

“I have no idea.” I put my gun back in my pocket. That thing probably wasn’t coming back any time soon. But Lori definitely had something to do with this.

 

“So you think Lori has something to do with this?” Sam said as soon as I told them about what had happened.

“Yeah,” I worked my comb through the tangles.

“You said there was a symbol,” Dean sat down next to Sam. “Do you have a picture?”

“Here,” I passed my phone to them. They zoomed in and started copying it down.

I yawned and leaned back on the bed. “I’m gonna go to sleep.” It was around 1:00 AM, I could probably get a couple of hours of sleep. I crawled up on the bed and laid my head on the pillow.

Dean turned the lights off next to my bed. “G’night, sweetheart.”

“Mm,” I rolled over and closed my eyes.

 

When I woke up, I was in a softly snoring Dean’s arms. I shifted a little bit and he stirred.

“What time is it?” he grumbled.

I looked at the clock. “7:13.”

“Coulda said 15.” his brows furrowed.

“When’d you go to sleep?” I mumbled. I grabbed onto his large hands holding me in place. His fingers were fun to play with.

“Dunno. 4:00?”

“That’s late.”

“Broke into the library.”

Oh. “Grave?”

“Unmarked.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

“Oh, good, you two are up.”

Dean and I both groaned when the resident early riser walked out of the bathroom, fresh and ready to go for the day.

Sam chuckled. “Rise and shine.” he opened the curtains and we hissed.

“Close that thing, Sammy.” Dean demanded but sat up anyway.

I missed the warmth from his body. But I had to get up at some point. “What’re we doing today?”

“Party.” Sam answered. “I’ll go grab breakfast. You two get ready.”

“Mkay mom.” I pulled the covers over my face. “You first, Dean.”

“We can just shower toge–”

“No.”

 

I hated college parties. They weren’t my scene. I did terrible in large groups. And Sam was also struggling. He and I stuck together as Dean happily pranced around the drinks and women. Why were we even at a party?

“You two never told me this college thing could be this awesome!” Dean eyed a passing girl. Jealousy bubbled inside, but it quickly died when Dean gave me an excited wink.

“This wasn’t exactly either of our experiences.” Sam gave a polite smile as he shied away from another girl’s touch on his arm.

I pulled him aside from the flock of girls making their way towards him and Dean. Man, these girls were persistent. Dean also made his way to my side and placed a hand on the small of my back. Really, Dean? “Guy at three o’clock.” he muttered. Oh. “But let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A's? Both of you?” Sam and I shrugged. “What geeks.” Dean teased lovingly.

“Moving on, what’d you guys find?” I steered the conversation back to work.

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam pulled out a piece of paper.

I opened it up and started reading.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage.” Dean summarised.

“There's a pattern here. In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out, get this, with a sharp instrument.”

“What about Lori?”

“A man of religion? Who openly preaches against immorality?” Oh, Reverend I forgot his– Sorensen– Reverend Sorensen. “Except maybe this time, instead of saving the whole town, he's just trying to save his only daughter.” Sam explained.

“So… Reverend Sorensen is summoning the Hookman?” Was that in the show? Man, I really should have paid attention.

“Maybe. Or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?”

“Uhhuh…?” I nodded slowly.

“The spirit latches onto the reverend's repressed emotions, feeds off them,”

“Okay…?” My brain was refusing to work. “So the reverend is behind all of this?”

“Could be. Without the reverend ever even knowing it.”

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight.” Dean’s fingers curled ever so slightly into my side when another guy walked by.

“And you guys…?” Sam eyed the way Dean was holding me.

He reluctantly let go. “We’re gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

 

“This the one?” I looked down at a grave with the same symbol as the one from the message at the sorority house.

“Looks like it.” Dean handed me a shovel. “Let’s get diggin’.”

I pushed the shovel into the ground. I could feel my shoulder and arm muscles flexing. No matter how many times I dug up a grave, my body always ached the next morning.

“So,” Dean said in between shovels. “Why did a pretty girl like you never join a sorority?”

“They were expensive as hell.” I grunted as I came across a harder patch of dirt.

“Yeah? Well, you had enough money to go to college, so why not cough up a few more bucks?”

“I wasn’t rich, Dean.” I managed to get the tough spot out.

“Yeah? I’m sure there were a few free ones.”

“There were,”

“Then why not join?”

“Because.” I took a minute to catch my breath. “I didn’t fit.”

Dean scoffed. “What do you mean you didn’t fit.”

“All the partying, all the drinking… all the drugs… the people . It wasn’t me.” I continued digging.

“What is that supposed to mean? I mean I know you don’t like partying, drinking, drugs… but you thrive when you’re chatting with people.”

“I had my own group of people. My own group of friends.” I leaned on the shovel. “I don’t do well in huge groups.”

“But you have a ton of friends. You said someone contacted you to ask for comfort after a breakup yesterday.”

“I said ‘groups’. Not individuals.”

Dean’s shovel hit something.

“6 or less. I do fine in that. Add another one and I’m struggling.”

“Sounds like there’s a little more than that to a sorority.”

I sighed. “I hated this one girl. She did nothing wrong to me. It was- it was petty– salt?”

“Salt.” Dean lifted the head of the coffin. I dumped a whole pack of salt on the body. “Continue,” he urged.

“Right, so, uh, girl I hated. Did nothing wrong– Okay, yeah, she came to class drunk . She bragged about getting roofied.”

“Al… right…? That’s definitely weird. But why the hate?”

“I dunno. I just didn’t like her.”

“So that’s why you hate sororities?”

“They suck, alright? All blonde. All tall. All flat. All blue eyed. Racist as hell. I mean you know they didn’t even think I could afford to be in a sorority. They look down on me. So I hate them. And not to mention the catfights. Everyone has beef with everybody and it’s like a constant battlefield.”

Dean emptied a can of lighter fluid on the corpse and lit a handful of matches. “You had personal experience with that?”

“I was in a twelve girl group in high school. I saw how they screwed up one girl. I hated her too, but that’s not the point–”

“Well, what’d she do?”

“Sheesh, it's a whole story. I can’t do it in one sitting!”

“Try me.” He threw the matches into the grave, and the bones burst into flames.

I took a deep breath. “She talked behind everyone’s back. Lied about her family situation. Refused to show gratitude when needed. Etc, etc.”

“Then she deserved it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. Women can be scary.” The smell of the body burning filled my nose.

“But they liked you?”

The body continued burning. “It was more out of politeness. I didn’t fit in.”

“Oh,”

 “Yeah,”

I watched as Dean walked around the dug up grave. He stood next to me and we both watched the final embers of the fire die out.

“You belong with us,” Dean finally said. “I don’t know if you feel like it, but, you do belong with me, and Sam, and Dad, and Bobby.” I could feel his eyes on me. “Bobby thinks of you as his own daughter. So does Dad. Sam’s been following you like a puppy since you got here. And to me– you’re my wife. So stay. Please.” I finally looked up to his green eyes that looked like they were going to burst into tears. “If you need anything, ever, then just say it. One of us will get it for you.”

They could never bring back my family, the time I’d lost with them and my close friends. But I appreciated the sentiment, so I put on a smile. I’d come to peace with making this place my home anyway. Those dreams of mine were just that, dreams. My reality was here, with Dean, and the others. Not in some dumb sorority or a stupid shallow group of friends.

“I’m not leaving Dean.” I stepped closer to him. He stood there, as if he moved then I would disappear. I grabbed his arm and pulled. He immediately lowered his head to meet mine. “You’re my home. With Sammy, John, Bobby– You guys are my home.” I pushed my weight onto my toes and tilted my head up to meet his lips.

The corpse had long since burned out, but the passion with which he returned the kiss was still burning.

 

“How does that kid keep getting into trouble?” Dean groaned as we pulled up by a bunch of police cars.

“Keep? This happened before?”

“Sam got caught with a shotgun in the forest. I told the police I was hazin’ him.”

Dean climbed out of Baby and tried to walk towards Sam. Two policemen immediately blocked his path. “No, it's alright, I'm with him. He's my brother.” I joined him. “And this is my fiancee.” He looked past the sheriffs and waved. “Hey! Brother!”

“Let them through.” A much older gentleman with the badge labeled sheriff waved us in.

“Thanks.” I muttered as Dean made a beeline for Sam.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,”

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

“You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn't you torch the bones?” Sam glared.

“We did.” I answered. “Jacob Karns. The unmarked grave had the same symbol he leaves everywhere.”

“You’re telling me it wasn’t that guy?” Dean clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“It sure as hell looked like him. And that's not all. I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, yeah, the guy wouldn't send the Hook Man after himself.”

“I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.”

“Damn,” I looked at the Reverend who was shaking as he was questioned by the police. It was always the Fathers that were the most unholiest.

“So what?” Dean looked exasperated.

“So she's upset about it. She's upset about the immorality of it. She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.” Sam’s eyes landed on the blonde Lori looking down at her feet as if she was embarrassed about her dad’s affair.

“Ok, so she's conflicted. And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right. Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.” Sam listed.

“Remind me not to piss this girl off.” Dean scratched his head. “But we burned those bones, we buried them in salt, why didn't that stop him?”

“You must have missed something.”

“No. We burned everything in that coffin.” Dean insisted.

“Did you get the hook?”

“The hook?”

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him.”

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook…” Sam looked at me and Dean.

“We stop the Hookman.” Dean finished with an excited grin.

 

We were inside the library again. Legally, for once.

Dean ushered us over to his side where he was looking at a document. “Here's something, I think. Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary.” He cleared his throat. “‘Karns, Jacob. Personal affects: disposition thereof.’”

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam turned over a page.

“Yeah, maybe. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner's house of worship, St. Barnabas Church.’”

“Isn't that where Lori's father preaches?”

“Yeah.”

“Where Lori lives?”

“Maybe that's why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends' daughters for the past 200 years.”

“Yeah, but if the hook were at the church or Lori's house, don't you think someone might've seen it? I mean, a bloodstained, silver-handled hook?”

“Check the church records.”

 

I was pretty sure I’d never had to read so many documents even for college. Hunts were usually easy too. Salt and burn. But this specific ghost was being a pain along with the Church and the stupid hook.

“Here.” Sam spoke up. Dean and I leaned in to listen. “St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.” The brothers collectively groaned. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

But one giant hook did not need to be melted to make a cross necklace. There must have been other things made out of it. “Of course they did.” I got up and closed the document I was reading. “I’ll go check out Lori’s house, I guess.”

“We’ll take the Church.” Dean nodded. “Meet us in the basement.”

“Aye aye.”

 

Carrying a bunch of silver items on a bike was pretty odd. It felt odder than breaking into a girl’s house in the middle of the night. I had to pull out the storage container and strap it to the body before I could even make a move. I stretched out my back and walked in through the Church door.

“Got everything from her house.” I dumped the Chinese take out bags of silver items on the floor.

Dean nodded and tossed more lighter fluid into the fire he’d lit. “Throw ‘em in there.”

Sam helped me throw every single silver thing into the fire. Until we heard a noise upstairs. Dean looked away from the fire to stand up. I stopped him. “It’s probably–” ‘Lori’ got stuck in my throat. “I’ll go see what happened.”

“Take a salt gun with you.”

I lifted my jacket to show him the gun tucked into my belt. “Iron.”

“Good enough.”

I walked up to see Lori sitting on one of the benches, her eyes closed in meditation with her hands clenched together.

She must have heard my boots on the stone floor because she snapped her eyes open. “Why are you here?”

“Uh,” I searched my head for a lie. “Dean and I were to be wed soon. I thought I would come in and seek God’s blessing.” All lies. I needed no one’s blessing. “I guess I’m kind of nervous.” I forced out a laugh.

“Oh,” She looked up at the crucifix.

“What are you here for?” I sat on the bench next to hers.

“I've been trying to understand what's been happening. Why? Now I know so I'm praying for forgiveness.” She closed her eyes again.

“Forgiveness for what?”

“Don't you see? I'm to blame for all this. I've read in the Bible about avenging angels.” She shuddered.

“Angel? This guy is no Angel.”

“I was so angry at my father. Part of me wanted him punished. And then he came and he punished him.” She clenched her fists together and prayed. “Forgive me,”

“It’s not exactly your fault.” I offered uselessly.

“Yes, it is. I don't know how, but it is.” Something metallic clanged in the back of the Church. He was here. “I killed Rich. Taylor, too. I nearly killed my father.”

“Come with me.” I reached up and grabbed Lori’s hand.

She screamed as I dragged her towards the door to the basement.

Karns’ spirit appeared in front of us, but I was ready. I took aim and shot him in the chest. He vanished. Lori was still looking around frantically and shrieking at every little thing.

I grabbed her shoulders to ground her. “What’s silver on you?”

“What?!”

“Sharon!” Sam came running up the stairs and forced the door open. “Are you guys alright?”

“Sam?” Lori looked relieved to see the younger Winchester. “What’s going on?”

A shot rang out down the stairs.

“Let’s go.” Sam grabbed us and ushered us downstairs.

“Silver. Lori, what silver things do you have?” I demanded again.

“What does it matter?!” she cried.

“Everything!” I dug my fingers into her shoulders.

Sam raised his gun and shot.

“Tell us so we can get this thing over with!”

“Uh-uh,” she looked down at her necklace. “My-my necklace– please don’t kill me.”

“Okay,” I grabbed the chain from around her neck and yanked.

“Ouch!” her hand flew to the back of her neck from where the necklace had snapped.

I drew my hand back to throw it into the fire, but something metallic wrapped around my neck. It dug into my flesh and I could feel warm blood drip down my neck. Shit. I needed to burn the stupid metal.

“Sharon!” Sam and Dean were both aiming the gun at the spirit, but Karns was using me as a shield. I wouldn’t get out of this unharmed.

The fire. I needed to get the necklace to the fire.

Could I use my powers? I ignored the burning sensation against my throat and willed the necklace to fly into the fire.

It was suddenly wrenched out of my hand and it sank into the flames. I did it.

“NO!” Karns’ spirit cried as it let go of me. Its body started glowing and burning. I’d done it. I did it. I succeeded.

I stumbled back onto my feet and grabbed at my neck. Dean immediately reached out with a piece of cloth to put pressure on the wound on my neck. “You okay?” He looked around cautiously.

“Is he gone?” Lori whimpered.

Sam, Dean, and I looked at each other. It was gone.

 

Dean was chatting and hashing out some of the details with the sheriff, Sam was saying his goodbyes to Lori, which left me alone leaning against my bike.

I felt the bandage around my neck. Just another scar to add to my collection. That is if it did scar. It felt pretty shallow. It would most likely heal just fine. But until then I was stuck to wearing my turtleneck in public.

Been a while .

My skin bristled when the Angel spoke again. Why was it here, now?

Just dropping by… You seem to have gotten a hand on your powers.

Yeah, no kidding. It made my head hurt like hell, but it was starting to get better. It felt shockingly similar to what Sam had gone through in the series with the demon blood and whatnot.

You don’t have demon blood. I thought I already told you that.

Didn’t mean I had to trust that statement.

I have no reason to lie.

For someone that didn’t have a reason to lie sure didn’t mind forcing me to lie.

Everything has a purpose.

And mine was to be a telekinetic freak?

… You are what you make of yourself.

The hell? What was with the philosophical talk?

I am merely telling the truth. Believe what you want. But know that I am on your side.

The hell?

Stop saying that word.

Hell.

…

Well that shut him up quick.

Your resilience amazes me.

Oh, so he was just going to ignore me, huh. But what resilience? I was a mess. My emotions were all over the place. And I could hardly keep myself motivated enough to keep going along with whatever this was.

You might want to reconsider that. You are doing exceptionally well. I had expected you to give up on yourself a few days after everything started.

Wow. Then why did he even bring me here?

I don’t call the shots.

What?

I have already said too much. I will be back.

The hell?

…

Nothing more. I sighed and pulled my flannel around me tighter. Sam walked up to stand next to me.

“You’re done talking to her?” I glanced at a sad looking Lori. “We could have stayed a few more days.”

“It’s fine.” he had his hands shoved into his pockets. “I just wanna find Dad.”

I nodded. “Me too Sam. Dean as well. We just want to find John, but– you should also do the things you want, you know? You did get out.”

“Did I though?” He looked at the ground bitterly. “Jess was supposed to die.”

“But she didn’t.”

He pressed his lips together and gave a jerky nod. “Yeah. You didn’t let her. But I feel like something is going to happen.”

I looked at him with a frown. “Something?”

“Yeah,” I could see his fingers wiggling in his pockets. “My nightmares. I’m seeing things I didn’t know I remembered.”

“What are you seeing, Sam?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but Dean walked over to us at that moment, and he clammed up. “Later,” he mouthed.

Alright then.

“What were you two talking about?” Dean squinted against the sunlight as he got into his car.

“Nothing.” Sam got in too.

I swung my leg over and strapped my helmet on.

Baby and my bike revved to life, and we were already on the move.

Notes:

Resources used:
https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6567

Sorry for the late update. Classes started and college is being a pain already. But get this- there's this super cute guy in ALL of my classes but I think he has a gf. I couldn't find his insta either to confirm. :') BUT OMG yall he does modern and kpop dance and like that's exactly my type??? His voice is like heaven too. And he is an older sibling and his apple watch + ipad pro + expensive gaming laptop scream rich. And his friends are cute too. He recently cleaned his new balance shoes and they look so much better than they did the first day of class. He works at this korean bbq place where a lot of kpop idols come to eat when they come to this area too apparently??? He spoke so much during neuro today I just keep falling for him more and more. And he sits across from me so like how the hell am I supposed to focus on the lecture when there's this EYECANDY in front of me??? idk wish me luck. No I'm not gonna talk to him one on one. HE BETTER NOT BE IN MY CHEMISTRY LAB TOMORROW OTHERWISE I WILL ACTUALLY DIE IF I HAVE TO SEE HIM 4 DAYS A WEEK.
Why did I share all of this T_T

Chapter 14: Bugs

Summary:

"Stealing a Firetruck was surprisingly easy in a rural town."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. STEAMY AF, not full blown smut but suggestive as hell
2. Bugs, so if you have bug phobia stay away.
3. Intense fear of bugs (i forgot the actual word for it, no it's not arachnophobia cause that's specifically for spiders). This is based off of my own bug fears so bear with me.
4. This chapter is gonna be the most ridiculous thing you've ever read and it's worse than just Chuck's 'bad writing'.

Anyways, sorry for the late update. I got sick :)

“Is that Jessica?” I read the caller ID on his phone.

He lowered it to my level and nodded. He accepted the call and lifted it up to his ear. “Hey Jess,” His face immediately lit up. “How are you?…” He walked away as he continued his conversation with her.

“Lover boy looks like he’s in love,” Dean walked up next to me and rested his hand on Baby’s hood. “He was looking into engagement rings recently. Online, but, uh, I think he wants to make it official.”

I blinked in surprise. “I thought he was gonna wait.”

“Guess he can’t keep it in.” Dean and I kept staring at his animated movements and the wide grin that never left his face. “I say, put a ring on it, seal the deal.”

I ran my fingers over my own silver ring. “We haven’t found John yet.”

“He wants his blessing. Or as close as he can get to it. Maybe rub it in his face.” He shrugged. “Let’s get our things in that motel room.”

“The father-son argument never ends, does it?” I grabbed my suitcase from Baby and followed Dean who was getting out two giant duffel bags.

“Nope,” he easily hefted them both in one arm and slammed Baby’s door shut. I stared as the muscles in his arm moved deliciously. The veins were popping from what little he liked to expose and man, was that a sight to see. “Can you open the door?” He grunted as he moved one bag to the other arm.

“Too heavy?” I teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Just open the door.”

I easily unlocked the door and stepped inside the damp place. Dean brought in everything else before yelling at Sam to bring in the coolers.

“Why’re we suddenly at a motel?” I decided to look at the DVDs. Sometimes they had movies that all three of us knew and could watch together. Such as Home Alone. Did this place at least have that?

“Baby needs maintenance. The carpet’s lifting where it shouldn’t too.”

Ugh. They didn’t have Home Alone. I flicked through the collection of DVDs. ‘Casa Erotica’, a classic.

“Sam likes the blonde ones.” Dean plucked out one of the others. “I prefer this one.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Busty Asian beauties. Short, tanned, black haired babes.”

I could feel myself blushing.

“It’s daylight, Dean.” I took off my flannel and waved at the younger Winchester who happily waved back from the window.

“So?” Dean sat down on the bed and tugged me closer till I was standing between his knees. “Sammy is still talking to Jessica… He’s not coming back for a while…” His eyes trailed over my shoulders.

“And?” He whined. “Come on, sweetheart.” His hands squeezed my hips and he nuzzled into my chest.

“But Sam’s right there–”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “Then you’ll just have to keep it quiet, right?” He gave a mischievous smile.

His green eyes looked so eager, I couldn’t help but give into his desires. But I had my own dirty thoughts. I opened my mouth and let his index finger slip inside.

“Awesome…” he muttered with wide eyes.

His fingers were rough and calloused from years of rough physical work. As I ran my tongue over them, I could feel every single scar on them. His jaw clenched when I cradled the hand that was in my mouth with my smaller ones. I loved them, the large hands that kept me and everyone safe. I pulled away to breathe.

“Fuck.” he grunted and tugged my rubber hand out of my hair.

I gasped when one hand dug into my scalp and the other pulled me off balance onto his sitting form on the bed. “Dean…” I whispered and he caught my lips with his. I let my eyes flutter close and let him take control. His hold was strong, but gentle. As always. He tilted my head to the side to take me deeper. I could feel his mouth move expertly against mine and the prickliness of two day stubble only made me shudder more. “Dean, oh Dean,” I couldn’t help but breathe his name when he pulled away ever so slightly to breathe. I rolled my hips against his.

“Son of a bitch…” his eyes rolled back slightly in pleasure. “Take it off.” he reached for the hem of my shirt. “Off with it.”

With some help, I’d wiggled my way out of it and Dean had shed his flannel, leaving him in his tight undershirt. When he reached to pull his own off, I grabbed his hand in a hurry. “Keep it on.” He looked ravishing when his shirt looked like it would rip open from the mass of his muscles.

“Kinky,” he grinned.

He took my mouth in his again and reached to my back to unhook my bra. With one tug it came off. Sex in broad daylight wasn’t something we did often. Wait, light– Oh God.

“Shit, curtains.” he suddenly remembered too.

Just then the door barged open. I ducked into Dean’s chest to hide myself, and Dean shifted so he was covering me. Oh my God, this was embarrassing.

“If you two are going to have sex then please close the blinds.” Sam glared. I grabbed my discarded flannel and started to put my arms through it to cover up the important bits. “And Jessica could hear you two moaning from the phone .”

“Maybe knock next time, Sammy.” Dean didn’t even look at his brother as he swiftly finished the remaining buttons on my flannel.

“Get a different motel room!” Sam threw his hands in defeat. He turned around and pressed his phone into his ear again. “Wait, you’re only an hour away?”

He turned back around and reached for a pen and paper on the table. “What’s the address?… Oasis Plains, Oklahoma…?… Why are you there?…”

Why would Jessica not be?

“That place is a dead zone.” Dean explained.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind going there.” Sam scratched the back of his neck with a silly smile on his face. “I’ll see you in an hour then… I love you too… Bye Jess,”

“So?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “You interrupt our” He made sure to point at me and him, “adult time just to giggle with your long distance girlfriend?”

“Shut up Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m going to Jessica’s.” With renewed vigour he was dragging his duffel bag out the door.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean reached out to grab his brother. “You’re just going to ditch us here? Why’s Jessica in Oasis Plains anyway?”

“Well, apparently her aunt is buying a house over there. And she invited Jessica to view the property. And Jessica invited me.”

“And now you’re inviting us.” Dean pressed his lips into a smile and started grabbing everything we’d just managed to bring inside.

“We can’t just crash a family thing.” I hurried to grab my clothes. I’d thought I was just going to be chilling in bed with my new balls of yarn, watching the boys watch football.

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam blocked his brother’s way. The two brothers started bickering.

I slipped into the bathroom to put my bra and shirt back on. I pulled my phone out in the bathroom and sent Jessica an email. ‘Sorry, but I think Dean is gonna crash your date with Sam.’

I immediately got a reply back. ‘No problemo. :)’ God, she was an angel.

 

“Jess!” Sam practically jumped out the car while Dean was still parking it.

“Easy there, kiddo!” Dean yelled as he slammed the brakes so he wouldn’t run the younger Winchester over.

I pulled up next to the Impala and rolled my helmet into the backseat. It had been a pleasant hour-long ride. Dean came to stand next to me as we watched Sam and Jessica lock into a passionate kiss.

“He c-blocks me to get laid himself.” Dean grumbled. “Traitor.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “He hasn’t seen her in over two months, leave him alone.”

“You two got room for two more?!” Dean yelled.

Sam fixed Dean with a glare while Jessica pulled away with a happy smile. “Nice to see you guys again.” She walked up to me with her arms outstretched. Hug? Hug. I was pulled into a soft pair of breasts and I had to look up to keep myself from being smothered.

I awkwardly patted her back. “Nice to see you again too.”

“Where’s mine– oof– Sam!”

Jessica threw her head back to laugh at the brothers’ arguing. “That typical?”

“Everyday.” I pulled back to look at her. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. I'm actually doing great.” she answered. “I’ve got one hell of a scar, but it doesn’t even come close to some of the ones Sam has.” She turned to me. “You?”

“Same.” I was suddenly conscious of the waistband of my jeans digging into the scar from Azazel.

“I always did wonder where he got all of those from. And he would tell me he got them while playing with his brother, maybe a camp outside, or from a fall down the stairs. I never really believed him. I thought he was being abused at home.” Jessica looked sadly at Sam. “But now that I know why he actually has them… I’m starting to wonder if the truth is somehow worse.” I had no answer for that. The truth was worse in its own way. But Jessica was still alive. “Thank you for saving me that day.”

“No problem.”

“No, seriously,” Her bright blue eyes filled with tears. “Seriously, thank you.”

She was an Angel, in every metaphorical sense. I nodded. “You’re welcome.” What else was I supposed to say?

“Are these your… friends?” an older couple stepped out of the house we were parked in front of.

“Oh, yeah,” Jessica tapped Sam’s shoulder. “This is Sam, my boyfriend.” Sam stiffened in response and held out a hand nervously. “That’s his brother Dean,” Dean offered his lopsided smirk. “and his wife, Sharon.” I gave them my politest smile. “Guys, meet my aunt and uncle, Janice and William.”

“Sorry for tagging along. But we were in the area. And Sam always tells us about Jessica.”

“Well, Jessica always talks about you and Sam.” Janice pulled me into a hug. Wow. Uh. Too many hugs for a day. But I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “You saved her life. We can’t thank you enough.”

“Yeah, it was no problem.”

“Jessica’s mentioned you two young lads as well.” William chuckled as he shook hands with the two brothers. “Wanna check out the inside? This was the one we were gonna finalise.”

“The water pressure is to die for.” Janice ushered us inside.

The freshly carpeted floors were still covered in plastic. And the walls smelled of fresh paint. They were a dull granny shade of yellow, but they didn’t have the annoying cheap popcorn paint job at least. And the house was huge . Almost as big as Bobby’s, but without the same amount of clutter this place seemed infinitely larger than that. My only pet peeve was that it looked identical to the houses on either side, and across the street, and behind. It was like someone had just copy pasted the houses to every lot. But I couldn’t very well tell them that.

“Why did you guys choose this specific one? It looks the same as the others.” Of course Dean was the kind of person to tell them.

“Dean!” I hissed.

He gave me an innocent look.

“Ah, well, they do look similar, don’t they?” William ran his fingers over one of the built-in cabinets. “This one has more cabinets than the others.”

… They made that a selling point? I caught Dean’s eye who seemed to share my sentiment. We were never going to buy a place like this. That is if we even ever bought one. I doubted we ever could or would.

“They’ve got a jacuzzi too.” Janice chimed from the bathroom.

“Oh, that seals the deal.” Dean was immediately on his way to the bathroom. Sam gave me an exasperated look. I shrugged. Well, someone in the family liked the jacuzzi.

I wandered into the backyard. Large, green, no permanent fence yet, and it looked lovely. There were a couple of infant trees that had been freshly planted into the soil. I reached out to reveal a flowering bud from in between a cluster of leaves.

“Lovely place, right?” Jessica crouched down next to me.

“Yeah, the backyard is nice.”

“Just the backyard?”

Oh she had noticed. “Dean likes the jacuzzi. But I’m not a huge fan of those.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re gonna turn down this house.” Jessica said. “The price they’re asking for this is astronomical for all the faulty wiring.”

“Faulty wiring?” Ghosts? Spirits? Demons? I was immediately on my guard.

“Oh, not that kind.” She looked around carefully before continuing. “Everything’s normal here. Nothing supernatural. But I mean the wiring is literally faulty.”

Alright. They better be literally faulty. Cause if there was a ghost or demon here, I was grabbing my shotgun. “Is the wiring the only reason they don’t wanna pay that much for this house?”

“Well, that and also there isn’t exactly anything close by. Police will take an hour or so to get here, and so will any kind of emergency services. It’s also very HOA dependent.”

“Oh God, I hate those.”

“So do we.” she shuddered. “HOAs are nightmares. The fees for this one is around a thousand a month–”

“Daylight robbery,”

“Exactly, and it’s mandatory.”

“Oh damn. Yeah, I’m glad they’re not taking this one.”

“Yeah, me too. The people here are weird as well.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah,” she leaned in closer. “There was a guy that recently died here.”

“Died?”

“Yeah, they brushed it off as mad cow disease from a bad burger, but we all know that’s not how mad cow disease spreads.” she whispered the next part. “That’s another reason I called Sam here. I knew you and Dean would tag along.”

“You think that this death isn’t natural?”

She shook her head. “Something’s wrong. I know it.” she ran her hands over the clothed scar on her stomach. “My scar tingles when I feel like I’m in danger.”

“Nice telepathy.”

She snapped to look in my direction before bursting into laughter. “I thought you were serious for a second.”

“Well, traumatic experiences can make you more sensitive to the supernatural. Yours probably manifests with Spidey senses on your scar.”

“That’s… kind of cool.” she let out a breath. “I just can’t wear crop tops now can I? Or bikinis.”

“There’s always one pieces that show off your figure. And bodysuits are a thing.” I stood up when the people in the house called for us. “I can give you a few tips and tricks. Gotta show off what you have, right?”

I heard her laugh softly as she followed me inside.

“So, we’ll be heading out now.” Janice hung off her husband’s arm as they announced their next steps.

“It’s gonna be a pain to get them to let us leave the deal.”

“So we wanna get a headstart and get out of this place before nightfall.”

“I mean there’s nothing for miles around here.”

“We only came here for the low prices they were advertising.”

“Yes, but they were only for the one bed one bath houses.”

The couple continued to gush over the false advertisement. Welcome to modern capitalism.

“Uh, aunt Janice, uncle William.” Jessica said quietly. “It’s almost time for your usual lunch. You two should probably go ahead.”

“Oh dear, you’re right.” Janice gasped and hurried out the door. “We’ll get those paperwork undone as soon as we’re done eating. Come on dear, your pressure will be all over the place if you don’t eat now. Take your time with this nice neighborhood, kids. It’s an open house after all!”

Once they finally closed the door, I let out a breath. “They’re one huge fireball of energy.”

“They can get exhausting.” Jessica laughed. She leaned on Sam’s arm who returned the hug.

Dean eyed the skin to skin connection and then shifted his glance to me. No. I glared. He pouted, but resigned to pushing his hands further into his pockets.

“So Jessica, you said you had a job for us here?”

“Yeah,” Jessica reached into her jacket and pulled out a small article from a newspaper. “A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash. The news says he died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob.”

“From what?” Dean and I asked at the same time.

“Mad cow disease.” Sam translated.

“I thought you went to college.” Dean scoffed.

“Not to study the German names of mad cow diseases.” I mumbled.

“So what’s so important about some Oprah thing?”

“You watched Oprah?” Sam had a smirk growing on his face.

Dean averted his eyes. “Anyways, so this guy eats a bad burger. And, uh, no offense Jess, but why is it our kind of thing?”

“Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration.” Jessica explained.

“It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear.” I continued.

“But Dustin’s brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less.” Sam read the article.

“Okay, that’s weird.” Dean turned around in thought.

“Thanks, Jess. This does sound like a case.” Sam looked at Jessica. “If you want to leave, then…”

“No, I’m staying with you guys on this one.”

“But Jess–”

“Sam, I want to do this. I want to know how things go for you guys.”

“Jessica this is not the life I wanted for you,”

“I’m gonna go with Dean… And I’ll just… leave my bike keys here… Don’t crash her!” Sam gave a thumbs up before pushing Jessica against a wall with a kiss. Okay, that was it. I checked out from their little lovers’ quarrel.

I walked outside to join Dean who was sitting on Baby’s hood. “Sam and Jessica are having a tiny fight. Of tongues. In more ways than one.”

“Yeah, I could hear.” He leaned back with a sigh. “Is that how we sound to him?”

“Probably.” I pulled my knees up to my chest. “Should we get on with our plan while they sort this out?”

“Find a house to squat in or investigate first?”

“Investigate. We already got the house thing taken care of.” I glanced at the house we were looking at. “I doubt they’re getting this house back for viewing in the next few days. Paperwork needs to be processed and all that.”

“You wanna squat in this one?”

“Looked nice.”

“Did the jacuzzi for two convince you?”

“No, it was the extra cabinets.”

 

“Travis Weaver?” I called out to the man in front of the Oklahoma Gas and Power Company Building.

“Yeah, that’s right.” the man yelled back.

“Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?” Dean sauntered up with a wave.

“Dustin never mentioned nephews. Or nieces.”

“Really? Well, he sure mentioned you. He said you were the greatest.”

I nodded along with the lie.

“Oh, he did? Huh.” Well Travis bought it, cause now he was smiling like an idiot.

“Listen, we wanted to ask you… what exactly happened out there?”

“I'm not sure. He fell in a sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope, and, uh… by the time I got back…”

“What did you see?”

“Nothin'. Just Dustin.”

“No wounds? No cuts, no bruises?” I questioned.

“Well, he was bleeding… from his eyes and his ears, his nose. But that's it.”

“So it really was mad cow disease?”

“I don't know. That's what the Doctors are sayin'.”

“But I remember talking to Uncle Dusty the other day, and he didn't seem to have any dementia or loss of motor control. But maybe I missed something that you saw?”

“No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some disease, what the hell was it?”

“That’s a good question.” Dean gave what sounded like a sad sigh. “Could you point us in the direction of where it happened? We kind of just want to… you know, see for ourselves.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.”

 

“They’re meeting us here?” I looked to where everything was covered up with ‘CONSTRUCTION: DO NOT ENTER’ signs. “I guess Jessica won.”

“That’s what Sam said.”

I turned around when the familiar roar of my bike purred to a stop. “She’s in one piece!” I cheered and helped Sam park her next to Baby.

“I’ve never been on a bike like that before.” Jessica easily slipped off the raised backseat. Damn long legs.

“She’s a Kawasaki ZX-6R.” I grinned. “2003 black model. Got her as a wedding gift.”

“Oh,” Jessica marvelled. “She must be precious to you then.”

“Yeah,” I ran my hands over her sleek black paint. “She’s like a kid to me.” Suddenly something caught my eye. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Is that mud on my bike?”

“Uhh… we’re in a construction area, of course there’s mud on the–”

“IT’S ON MY BRAKE PEDAL!”

“IT’S CALLED SHOES!”

“IT’S MUD !”

“Oh, shut up you two.” Dean pulled us apart. “Just wipe the damn mud off her pedals, Sam.”

“But–”

“Sam,” Dean said sternly and Sam’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Hah! “And Sharon, seriously. It’s just mud. Baby’s covered in mud all the time.” Ugh.

“Hey, I think I found the sinkhole they were talking about.” Jessica yelled from a spot a little further down.

The three of us walked up next to her to see where she was looking into. I let the boys and Jessica crowd their heads over the sinkhole. I didn’t exactly want to see any critters in the ground. “If what Travis said was accurate, then the dude died, in like, less than an hour. That is not mad cow disease.”

“So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?” Dean waved his flashlight around the sinkhole to see every nook and cranny.

“No, there'd be an entry wound. Sounds like this thing worked from the inside.” Sam refuted.

“Huh. Looks like there's only room for one. A tiny one.” Dean glanced up from where he was kneeling.

“Oh hell nah.” I shook my head. “I am not getting in that thing. What if there’s bugs?”

“Exactly, they’re just bugs.”

“No.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I am not dealing with bugs. I’ll take on a wendigo solo if I have to, but I am not dealing with bugs– AHH!” I scrambled backwards when a nasty little ugly thing flew right by my nose. “No, no, no, no, no, no. I’ll, uh, I’ll be with my bike. Maybe in the car. BYE!”

I ran my way out of there. I remembered this episode. ‘Bugs’. The title itself terrified me. Wendigos kept me awake all night, but bugs in general kept me awake all fortnight. Like hell I was staying to finish this case. There weren’t any deaths I could prevent anyway. And the family survived the night of the bug apocalypse too. Nothing for me to do here.

I jumped when something brushed my shoulder. “Are you scared of bugs?” I looked up to see a worried Jessica.

“Oh, yeah.” I shuddered in fear. I thought a bug had landed on me. “I’m not very good with them.”

“Phobia?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I just hate them.”

Jessica’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “You guys fight demons and things, but you’re scared of bugs?”

“You don’t know what those little things can do.” I held back a shiver. “Wanna ride with me on the way back?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for them?” Jessica looked back at the boys. Sam was squeezing into the sinkhole. “I’m a little worried. What if something’s down there?”

“They’ll be fine.” I promised her. But she looked hesitant. “Let’s just wait for them here, then?”

“Yeah,”

 

“So you found some beetles. In a hole, in the ground. That's shocking, Sam.” Dean scoffed.

“There were no tunnels, no tracks. No evidence of any other kind of creature down there. You know, some beetles do eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat, but–”

“How many did you find down there?”

“Ten.”

Dean snorted. “It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out some dude's brain.”

Jessica seemed shocked by the casual bloody conversation. I offered her a sympathetic smile as she worked through the conversation in her head.

Sam frowned. “Well, maybe there were more.”

“I don't know, it sounds like a stretch to me.”

Sam turned to me and Jessica. “Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before. Jess, wanna help out with that?”

“Uh, sure.” She looked down in my direction. “Are we going together?”

“Yep, I have an idea where we can start looking.” I fished the spare helmet out of the backseat of the Impala and handed it to her. “Follow me, boys.”

 

‘Models Open. New Buyers' BBQ Today!’, read the sign in the front yard.

“They better have chicken.”

Jessica and I waited for Sam and Dean to pull up.

“Good choice.” Dean grinned as he parked.

“We’re here to talk to the locals.” I reminded him as he got out of the car. “Don’t just stuff your face with food.”

“But it looks like Jess and Sam are already on it.” he nodded to where Jessica had already struck up conversation with someone. Sam stood next to her, offering polite smiles and looking around at the balloons decorating the place. “She’s a charmer.” Dean commented before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me inside.

I gripped his arm in warning when his hand ducked under my shirt to rest on bare skin instead. “Dean,”

“What?” he smirked. “It’s fine. We’re just a newly wed couple looking for a house to buy.”

I let him lead me around to the food tables. Good enough cover I supposed.

“Welcome!” said a sharply dressed man. “I’m Larry Pike, the developer here.”

“This is the barbecue for new homeowners, right?” Dean firmly grasped the man’s hand.

“Yeah, not the best weather,” Larry shook his head. “And you guys are…?”

“Dean, and this is Sharon.” Dean’s fingers curled tighter into my side.

I gave my best polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sharon, Dean, good to meet you. So, you two are interested in Oasis Plains?” Larry looked between the both of us.

“Oh, yeah.” Dean nodded. “We recently got married and, uh, we saw the advertisements for the properties here. So we thought why not pop by? Right honey?”

“Right.” I leaned against him to play more into the newly wed role. “We were told the prices were good too.”

“Hey,” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder. Jessica walked up to stand next to me. “You must be Larry, the lead developer.” Sam flashed a quick smile. “I’m Sam, and that’s Jessica.”

“We’re all family.” Jessica said sweetly. “We were looking for a home together.”

“Oh, yes, yes.” Larry grinned. “We have a few good houses for real cheap. And let me just say, we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, and... family dynamics.”

Oh. Oh .

“Oh, Sam and I are together.” Jessica hurriedly explained. She scampered over to where Sam was. “Sam and Dean are brothers.” Sam immediately pulled Jessica close and Dean took a step away from his brother.

The rest of us nodded in support as Larry stammered to recollect himself. “Uh, of course, of course. Right this way, for the barbecue.”

“You said you were the lead developer?” Dean asked as we were led into the backyard.

“Ah, yes. Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with my survey team. There was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains.” Marketing tactic. This didn’t look like a permanent home. Nothing had been personalised from the little peek we’d gotten into the house through the windows. Not even curtains had been hung yet. “This is Joanie, my wife.”

Joanie and I shook hands. “Hi,” her eyes flitted to focus on Dean and Sam.

“Dean and Sharon.” Larry introduced as we all took our turns greeting and introducing ourselves. “And Sam and Jessica.”

“Pleasure.” Joanie ripped her eyes away from the brothers to look at her husband.

“Tell them how much you love the place, honey. And lie if you have to because I need to sell some houses.” Larry laughed.

“Right.” Joanie and Larry continued to laugh.

I held onto Dean’s jacket awkwardly. What was I supposed to do? Laugh with them? But there were so many people here. Was I supposed to talk to someone else? Who looked like they were open to conversation?

“You okay?” I jumped when Dean’s breath brushed against my ear. Bugs? The curse? “Whoah,” he gripped my arm to keep me steady. “You’ve been jumpy all day. Should we go back?”

“What? No, no.” It just felt like I would be eaten by a bug, nothing he would take seriously. “I’m fine.”

“The bugs are creeping her out.” Jessica chimed.

I frowned when Dean held back a snicker in realisation. Great. Thanks Jessica. “Those bugs aren’t going to hurt you.”

I eyed the bee that was starting to get a little too close to the barbecue for comfort. There went my chicken. “They could if they wanted to.” I turned around to get back inside the house. Bees didn’t get inside houses normally, did they?

“The bee is gonna eat you,” Dean teased.

I stomped on his shoe. “Not if I feed you to it first.”

“Hey!” he laughed. “That’s no way to treat your husband.”

I wrenched the door open, only to be startled by how light it was. “The door material is cheap.” It would fly off the hinges if I used even a little force.

“Oh yeah. This thing would not last.” Dean wandered inside after me. “How do you know so much about houses anyway?”

“To avoid getting scammed.” I stood on the marble floor. Rich people things. I closed my eyes to calm myself down when Dean slammed the door shut. “You’ll break the door if you slam it any harder.”

“At least I won’t be eaten by a spider.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m just saying. One little roach or critter with eight legs isn’t gonna turn you into bug food.”

I shuddered at the thought. “Shut up, Dean, seriously.” It felt like something was crawling on my skin. I slapped a hand to my shoulder, only to realise I’d just smacked my hair, nothing else. This was stupid.

“There’s nothing on you, sweetheart.” Dean said gently. “If there were, I’d tell you.”

“You will?” I looked up at him.

“Yeah,” he looked around before leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You wanna sit this one out? You seem on edge.”

“I might when things get bad.” I let him hold me close for a moment.

“You two come in to check the house?” Larry walked over to us.

Dean and I pulled away from each other. “Yes, actually.” Dean put on his own business smile. “Mind showin’ us around?”

“Always a pleasure to do business. We live in this house, but it boasts a lot of the amenities and features we provide in our houses.” Larry led us throughout the house. It was larger than the one that Janice and William had been looking at. “We can install automatic or manual blinds.” I preferred curtains. “And we have one window per room at the minimum.” too little and too small. “The living room is spacious, works excellently as a family space, especially if you decide to have children. And for the job to get there, we have the master bedroom.” Alright, this was weird. I didn’t like sales pitches like this. “Walk in closet for him in the bedroom. Walk in closet for her in the bathroom. Or the other way if you two want. Or you can share. And here, in the bathroom we have jacuzzis and steam showers.”

“Steam showers, huh.” Dean was impressed. “Do all the houses have them?”

“Yes, well. All of them do. Our water pressure is great.”

Seriously, why did people here like the water pressure so much?

We finished touring the upper floors and used the second spiral staircase to get back downstairs. The sight of a bug in a jar made me shriek and jump backwards. Big mistake. I managed to catch myself on the railing just in time to not tumble to my death. “Oh my God.” I sped down the rest of the stairs. “Is that a tarantula?”

Dean looked me over for injuries before staring at the bug in the jar.

“I-I am so sorry.” Larry panicked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” I kept my eyes on the giant spider. “Why the fu– heck is there a tarantula in the house?”

“My son - he's into insects. He's very… inquisitive.” Larry ran up to get the jar. I shrank against Dean when the jar crossed by. I could have sworn the spider was staring into my soul with its many beady eyes.

Dean leaned down to my height. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I am not staying here longer than I have to.”

“Yeah, leave whenever you want to.” he gave my shoulder a squeeze. “That’s fine with us.”

“MATTHEW!” Larry yelled as he walked out of the house.

“Let’s follow him for now. See what he’s up to.”

I followed Dean out the door and to where Sam and Jessica were talking to a younger boy.

“I am so sorry about my son and his… pet.” Larry glared at the boy.

“No harm done…” I stepped back when I spotted the other species of giant spider crawling up the boy’s arm. I felt lightheaded.

Sam grabbed my arm to steady me. “Sharon?”

“Fine. I'm fine.”

Dean wrapped an arm around my waist and Sam let go. “I’ll take her home.” Dean tugged me along with him. I felt him fish for the keys in my pocket and toss them to Sam.

I wasn’t going to argue with that. The bugs were making me sick. My heart hadn’t stopped trying to break down my ribs since the second I’d realised what episode this was. Bugs, bees, mosquitoes, spiders, hornets, wasps, cockroaches, silverfish, worms. All of them made me sick.

“Hey, stay with me, alright?” Dean squeezed me knee once he made sure I was safely sitting in the Impala. “Do you want me to drive you to the motel in the other city?”

“Later.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “Dean,”

“Yeah?” I felt the car jerk as he got back on the road.

“Sorry,”

“For what?”

“This.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I’m messing up the case.”

“Not a big deal. Sam can handle some questioning on his own.”

“But I– you could be there with him right now. Getting this done with faster. Not– not taking care of me.”

“Shh…” I felt his hand start working through a knot in my shoulder. “It’s my job to take care of you.”

“No it’s not.”

“It is. It became my job when we said ‘I do’.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“You’ve done plenty, sweetheart. You just don’t know it.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

 

Come nightfall and I was feeling a little better. Even with the constant threat of being killed by bugs. And D-day was getting closer and closer.

“Steam shower did the trick!” Dean cheered when I emerged from the hot bath.

“You’re being too damn loud for–” I checked the watch lying on the counter. “For 8:30 PM. I’m going to bed.”

The four of us had decided to share a room. I refused to sleep without Dean and Sam refused to leave me alone either. Jessica seemed to share the sentiment. So now because of me, all four of us were sharing two air mattresses stuck together and two thin blankets between all of us.

“I didn’t know it was that severe,” Jessica said as I flopped down next to her.

“Yeah, well, it sucks.”

“We got the bug zapper!” Sam announced.

“Thanks!” I yelled back.

“I didn’t mean to be a pain.” I rolled away from the pretty blonde.

“You’re not being one.” Jessica whispered. “We’re all afraid of things. Yours just happens to be bugs.”

“Well, I wish it wasn’t something this stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Jessica said, and silence reigned for a while, broken by the occasional yell from either of the brothers. “Can I hug you? It’s kinda cold.”

“Uh, sure.”

I blinked in surprise when she actually pressed herself against my back. It felt like I was the little spoon. Again.

“I’m the oldest here, and everyone’s treating me like a child.”

Jessica giggled. “You’re fun sized.”

“Hush.” I pinched her arm.

“You should let us coddle you sometimes.” Jessica’s voice started to get drowsy with sleep. “I’ve only been here less than a day but I can see how much all three of you care for each other.”

Yeah. We were all we had. And Bobby and John. But they tended to go off on their own. I squeezed her hands around me. “You care for us too. So thank you.”

“Of course… Good night.”

“Good night.”

 

“There’s been another death…” I could hear the three of them discussing.

“Who is it?”

“Lynda Bloome. The lady you and I were talking to before we went with Dean and Sharon.”

“Oh, isn’t she the realtor?”

“The super jittery one? How?”

“Apparently they found dead spiders by her body.”

“Sounds the same as the construction worker.”

“And spiders. From spider-boy?”

“Matt– maybe.”

I pushed myself up as I felt a trip to a school coming up.

“Oh, you’re up.” Sam commented.

“Yeah,” I squinted against the light coming in from the window. “What time is it?”

“1:00 in the afternoon.”

1:00?! Seriously?! “And no one woke me up?” I kicked my blanket off and tried to make myself presentable.

“You looked too peaceful to wake up.” Dean chuckled.

“Jess got us breakfast.” Sam pecked Jessica on the lips. The two of them got up and put on their boots.

“Where’re they going?” I asked Dean.

“To investigate the house.”

“Oh, and what am I supposed to do then?

“Eat up and let’s get goin’ to that bus stop.”

“To question bug boy?”

“You wanna take on the B and E instead? There might be bugs in the house.”

… “Bug boy…”

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Dean and I ended up taking the bike. Jessica looked a little sad at not having her, but I was done letting Sam get mud all over her. Dean seemed pretty excited to finally drive her after ages and settled in eagerly.

“You never let me drive her.” Dean grinned as he parked. He hung both our helmets off the handlebars before securing them with the lock and chain I had in my bag.

“Cause you boys always get mud and leaves and all kinds of stuff on her. I found cheese on her windshield once.” I hopped off of her and waited for Dean to get off as well.

“Isn’t his house that way?” Dean suddenly said.

“Yeah.” I felt fear rise when I spotted Matt walk into the woods after a jumping grasshopper. We were gonna follow him, weren’t we?

“You wanna stay here?” Dean asked.

“No.” I swallowed the fear back down and followed after him. Nothing was going to happen yet. My fear was irrational. I could do this. “Hey, Matt.”

“Oh,” Matt turned around with a stick insect on his arm. Oh. My. God. “Uh, you might not want to be here. There’s a bunch of bugs.”

I chose to ignore the statement. There were no bugs. Out of sight, out of mind. “We just wanna talk to you.”

“You're not here to buy a house, are you?” Matt looked at me and Dean. Dean shook his head. “W-wait. You're not serial killers?

“Oh, no.” I raised my hands in surrender. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

“So, Matt… you sure know a lot about insects.” Dean and I watched as the stick insect climbed up further and further up his arm.

“So?” Matt moved the bug back down on his hand.

“Did you hear what happened to Lynda, the realtor?”

“I hear she died this morning.”

“Mm, that's right. Spider bites.”

“And you happen to have a spider.” I jumped when the stick insect suddenly vanished. Where the hell did it go? Was it on me? I batted at my hair. I glanced at Dean who gave me a reassuring look. Okay, it wasn’t on me.

“Wait. You think I had something to do with that?” Matt looked at the two of us. “That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy.”

“You know about those?” Dean stepped forward.

“There is somethin' going on here. I don't know what… but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something.” He picked up his bag and led us to another clearing in the woods. I watched every single little movement. Bug here, bug there. Disgusting. Creepy. Crawly. Under my skin.

“So, if you knew about all this bug stuff, why not tell your dad? Maybe he could clear everybody out.” I glared at a fly that flew by. “And avoid any further deaths.”

“Believe me, I've tried. But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me.”

“Why not?” Dean chimed.

“Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son.”

“Oh. I'm sure that’s not true.”

“It is.” he spat bitterly. “He’s always telling me how abnormal I am. And how people are gonna avoid me when I grow up.” he stared at me. “You’re scared of me too.”

“Well, I’m not scared of you . I’m scared of the grasshopper jumping the hell around– ack!” I jumped when the grasshopper got a little too close for comfort. “And I have a cousin who loves bugs as much as you do. He keeps hornets in little boxes at home.”

“Cool,” he whispered. “And his dad lets him?”

“Yeah. They had to establish communication though. A good talk. Sit down and agree to not argue. To be fair, they also don’t work in the kind of customer service that leads to home tours. Maybe you and Larry can come to a consensus?”

Matt scoffed. “Of course. Like I haven’t tried that already.”

“How much further Matt?” Dean called from behind me.

“We’re close.” Matt said and stepped around a tree crawling with beetles.

I held onto Dean’s jacket and shivered at the sudden increase in bug noises.

“I've been keeping track of insect populations. It's, um, part of an AP science class.”

“That’s so real.” I muttered. “AP classes suck. So what’s going on here?”

“A lot. I mean, from bees to earthworms, beatles… you name it. It's like they're congregating here.”

“Any idea why–?” I held back a scream when a beetle brushed against my cheek.

Dean easily flicked off the critter and rubbed comforting circles on the spot it had landed on.

“I don’t know.” Matt answered truthfully.

“What’s that?” Dean suddenly let me go to kneel near a raised lump on the ground.

“Oh my God. I'll be by my bike.” I turned tail and hurried back to civilization. No bugs on the concrete. Nothing that could eat me in my sleep.

This was when they found skulls in the ground, right? I’d almost forgotten. But I couldn’t forget the sight of Dean and Sam pulling out worms with sticks and then sticking their hands into bug infested soil to get the heads out. Hell nah.

 

And now that box with bugs and skulls in it was in the backseat of the Impala.

“Lowkey might dip.” I told Jessica.

“What?”

“There’s this thing I need to confirm.” I stared at the diner where Jessica had said she’d gotten breakfast at. “You said this place was filled with locals?”

“Yeah. Native Americans. Apparently they’ve been on this land for ages. Is there something there?” Jessica looked in through the window.

“Someone.” I walked inside and found the man I was looking for. His hair was greying but pulled into beautiful careful long braids. “Hello. Are you the Chief of the local Tribe?”

“Who’s asking?”

I remembered this dude. He didn’t like liars. It had always stuck with me throughout the show. “Sharon. And this is Jessica.”

Jessica looked at me in alarm. “Should we be giving him our real names? I thought we were investigating.”

“I can hear you girl. And I don’t like liars.” the man squinted. “Sit.” Jessica and I slid into the booth. “What do you want to know?”

“Something is happening in Oasis Plains, something bad. We’re trying to figure out what’s going on there.”

“And I would know, because…?”

“We found Native American bones in the ground. We were wondering if it had anything to do with the history of this place.”

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath before starting. “I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village.

“They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun Rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead. They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people.”

White man. The words had appeared twice. If my theory was right, then the bugs wouldn’t try to kill me, because I wasn’t white. “White man?”

“White man.” the man confirmed.

“Thank you for your time.” I stood up and tugged Jessica along with me. “We have to tell the brothers.”

“And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive.” Jessica mulled in her head. “The bee attack, the first attack, happened on the 20th of March– so that means–”

“D day is tonight.” I got on my bike and revved her to life.

Jessica settled behind me and rapidly dialed Sam. “Sam, it’s gonna happen tonight.”

“What’s gonna happen tonight?”

“‘Nature [will] rise up and protect the valley.’ I quote.”

“Oh.”

“We need a plan.”

“Let’s regroup, and we’ll figure something out.”

 

“You don't break a curse. You get out of its way.” Dean paced the room. “We've gotta get those people out now.”

I raised my hand as if we were in class. “I have an idea.”

Everyone huddled close to me to listen. I pressed my lips together in a sort of prayer. This stupid plan better work. Otherwise I was killing myself before the bugs got to me.

 

Stealing a Firetruck was surprisingly easy in a rural town. Disguises were my best friend. Platform shoes to make myself four inches taller, oversized hoodie to hide any defining feature, and makeup to create other defining features. A sleeping pill induced donut round had gotten the firefighters to blissfully doze off. And with a few tamperings with the security camera, I had the firetruck to myself. Hopefully no one set fire to their house tonight.

I nervously snacked on a packet of chips I’d gotten from a local Gas-n-Sip outside of town. This was going to be fine right? No one would catch me with a stolen fire truck, right? I’d even donned the firetruck uniform for good measure. Though it was also to keep myself safe from the bugs. Could bugs chew through fire trucks? They better not.

Besides, just because the old man had said ‘white man’ didn’t necessarily mean that I would be spared. Sure I wasn’t White or man, but I was an immigrant to say the least. This was just a backup plan anyway. The main plan was to try and see if we could get Matt and his family to evacuate by pretending to be firefighters.

“This is stupid.” I killed the engine of the truck but left the lights blaring. I put on the fireman suit and walked up to the door. We could still make it out on time. I rang the doorbell and waited for Larry to get to the door. “Hello, I’m from the fire department one town over. We were just responding to a call about smoke in the area. We have orders to evacuate all citizens in this city.”

“Sorry, but we haven’t seen any smoke.” Larry frowned at the sight of the firetruck. “Must we evacuate?”

“Unfortunately sir, yes. You and your family are the only ones left.” The realtor’s family was out of town for the week due to the funeral. And we’d managed to convince the other families still in the area that there was a gas leak. Larry and co were the only ones left. “Please, it shouldn’t take more than a few hours. We’re just trying to do a sweep of the area, make sure no fires have started underground in the new tunnels being laid, and all that good stuff.”

“This sounds a little serious doesn’t it Larry?” Joanie whispered.

“But there’s absolutely no smoke. Why should we leave?” Larry glared at me.

“Dad, I think we should do what she’s asking.” Matt said from inside the house.

“You keep your mouth shut, boy!” Larry turned back to look at me. “How long?”

“About… three to four hours. You can wait at our fire station.”

Joanie looked pleadingly at her husband. “Please darling, if there really is something going on, then I want Matt and us to be safe. Especially with all the deaths that have been happening–”

“Fine,” Larry finally spat. “Let’s go. But we’ll be back as soon as this place is cleared up.”

Wait, it was that easy? I thought there would be more of a fight.

I led them into the back of the truck and settled in.

“Where’s the rest of you guys?” Larry asked suspiciously.

“They’re transporting the rest of the families.”

“No sirens?”

“It is an empty road, sir. We will turn it on in case we need it.”

“How far is the station?”

“About thirty minutes.” I stepped harder on the gas pedal. I had to make the trip seem shorter than it actually was.

I finally pulled up in front of the station. I parked the truck in the driveway and jumped out. I rolled down the windows slightly and slammed the doors shut behind me, making sure to lock them.

“HEY! HEY!” Larry yelled as soon as he realised. Joanie was shrieking, but Matt stared back at me and whispered ‘thank you’.

Sorry Larry. But you and your family need to stay in that thing for as long as possible. I checked my phone. The sleeping pills should be wearing off in a few more hours. The firefighters could come rescue the family later.

 

“You seriously just left them in there?” Jessica stared at me in shock. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”

I shrugged. “It got them out of Oasis Plains long enough.”

“You’re not more worried about how easily she drugged an entire fire station?” Dean scoffed.

“Don’t try this at home kids.” I mumbled to no one in particular.

“Good thing we got everyone out though.” Sam said as he read the newspaper. “Turns out all the houses were destroyed by insects.”

“I bet they’re thanking God right now that some woman kidnapped them in a stolen fire truck.” Dean teased.

“And, um, that is within you guys’ ballpark?” Jessica glanced at the three of us with wide eyes.

“For her,” Sam gave a smile that said ‘do not associate me with your crazy’.

“Sam’s stolen his fair share of cars.” Dean smirked.

“Oh,”

I held back a laugh when Sam looked torn between stabbing Dean and trying to explain to Jessica that he was harmless. In the end, his love for Jessica won over his hatred for his brother. “I swear Jess–”

“That’s kinda cool.”

All three of us snapped to stare at the blonde in front of us. “Cool?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah.” she grinned. “I always thought Sam was this good little boy, but I always knew there was a… darker bad boy side to him. It’s nice to see.”

Yeah, if the sex scenes in the TV show weren’t proof of that.

“Alright. You kids keep it down.” Dean got up from his spot on the bed and motioned for me to join him. “Don’t make us an uncle and aunt. We’re too young.” Dean lowered his voice to stage whisper. “Do you need condoms?”

Sam just threw a pillow in his direction. “Jerk!”

“Bitch!” Dean yelled back with a cackle.

Once he and I were outside the room, he couldn’t help his smile. “I like that girl.”

“Me too.” I wrapped my arm around Dean’s and leaned against his solid frame. “Thanks for the whole thing with the bugs.”

“Yeah?”

I closed my eyes when Dean leaned down to kiss my head.

“Mmph!” I felt his lips crash onto mine right after. He pushed me up against the dingy motel walls and his hands pressed up against the back of my thighs, trying to lift me to a more comfortable height. “We’re– we’re outside–”

He groaned against my lips before moving a hand to shuffle around. I yelped when he hoisted me up and practically threw me onto the bed. “Dean,” I whispered his name when he started taking off our clothes with shocking speed. “Dean,”

“Shh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want Sammy and his girlfriend to hear–”

“Aah!” came a very feminine moan.

Dean and I paused in our ‘activities’ to look at each other.

“Was- was that you–”

“No.” I craned my head to look at the wall right by my head. There were the sounds of a bed squeaking as it rocked back and forth. “Oh God.”

“Well, this is awkward.” Dean muttered before going to town on my breasts.

“Dean!”

His fingers ran up my thighs.  “Let’s see who can get their girl to moan louder.”

“Dean!”

Notes:

I thought about turning Jessica into a hunter. It would be cool for sure. Idk if that'll go with what I want for Sam though. Eh, we'll find out later.
GUYS IT WAS HIM. HE, THE SUPER CUTE EAST ASIAN GUY. HE'S IN ALL MY CLASSES. WE HAVE THE SAME SCHEDULE. AND HE'S DEFINITELY RICH. I SAW HIM IN SCRUBS LAST WEEK FOR O CHEM LAB AND ALSO SAW HIM WALKING TOWARDS THE CAMPUS APARTMENTS WITH HIS FRIEND AFTER BIO. SO LIKE HE LIVES ON CAMPUS BUT HAS AN OFF CAMPUS JOB, SO HE HAS A CAR, WHICH MUST MEAN HE'S RICH. Yeah, I definitely don't 'like' him. What is love anyway. no like srsly, *insert What is Love by TWICE*

Chapter 15: Home

Summary:

"But I hadn’t exactly expected to be choked by a G string."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Mentions of Suicide (like once towards the end).
2. Lots of hurt/comfort :)
3. There's a G string here for some reason idrk why

“Drawing?” I sat next to Sam with my ball of yarn as he continued coloring.

“Yeah,” He picked up a different color. “Jess said this kind of helped her after the demon attack. I thought I would try it out.”

“She wanted to stay with us, you know.”

“This isn’t the life she deserves.” Sam continued scribbling. “I’ll be dead before she can become a Hunter.”

“But Sam–”

“She knows how to defend herself against every monster I know.” Sam sighed as he put his color pencil down. “With how headstrong she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she started hunting part time. Like you did. Least I can do is teach her how to protect herself. Like what Dean did with you.”

“With me?” Should I make a blue penguin?

“You think he wants you to go on salt and burns and rougarou hunts on your own?”

I shrugged. “That’s fair, I guess. How do you know she won’t become an actual hunter though? You know, cause I turned out to be one when Dean called me.” Nah, too adventurous. Maybe a blue baby doll.

He fell silent for a moment before grabbing another color. “I’ll prevent it for as long as I can. But for now, she has a family, she has a job, newspaper editor.”

“Oh she got it?” I already had a rainbow set of doll babies though.

“Yeah. Said she might become chief editor next year if the promotion goes through as planned.”

“Congrats to her.” Ugh what to make.

“Thanks. I’ll tell her that.”

I finally decided on a design. Dolphin. Sam and I fell into silence as I tried to figure out how I wanted to go about this.

“Do you think it’s helping?” I unfurled the yarn and started working the end of the blue yarn into a slip knot.

“Kind of.” He pulled back slightly to observe his handiwork. “It’s helping me make sense of my nightmares. It feels better when I put it on paper, you know? And I feel like there’s too much for words to express what’s going on.”

I wrapped the yarn around my finger and pushed my hook in. “If it works, it works.”

We sat in comfortable silence as he continued scribbling and I continued crocheting.

“Pass me the white yarn, would you?”

“Sure.”

…

“Sharpener.”

“Here,”

…

“More paper?”

“Yes please.”

…

Until Dean barged in through the door with food. Sam hurriedly shoved his artwork under a bag on the table. Dean clearly spotted it but didn’t make a comment. “I brought grub,” he said instead. “Rabbit food for Sammy bunny. Chicken bowl for the resident princess. And burgers for the only real man.”

“You’re gonna get a stomach ulcer if you keep eating like that.” I passed Sam’s salad to him and took my own food from Dean who had already started eating.

“Haven’t gotten one in my several years of life.” Dean shrugged.

“I hope you get one soon.” Sam huffed.

“Did you two find any cases?” Dean asked as he sat down across from us.

“Nope.” Sam shifted uneasily. “I was helping Sharon with her yarn.”

Sure he was. “He was.” I helped him lie. But Dean obviously knew the truth. “You wanna find something for us instead? I just started on my dolphin.”

“Fine.” Dean moved to put his feet on the table.

Oh hell nah. “Feet off the table.” I stabbed his shin with the plastic knife in my hands.

“Yeah, no one wants to see your disgusting shoes.” Sam added.

“Both of you, go to hell.” Dean scoffed but he didn’t try to put his feet up again. He started banging away on the laptop while simultaneously licking a horrifying amount of cheese off his fingers. “I think I found a few candidates for our next gig.” I passed my ball of yarn to Sam so he could cut it. “A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali — its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” I grabbed a different blue color and looped it through the color I’d just ended. Sam watched with amusement. “And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.” Oh shoot, the yarn was the wrong thickness. I reached into my bag to pull out a different one. Hopefully this thickness was right… Was that a picture at the bottom of the bag? “Any of these things blowin' up either of your skirts?”

“Sam, is this yours?” I showed Sam the picture.

He reached out eagerly for the small piece of paper. “Yeah, where was this? I thought I lost this ages ago.”

“Bottom of the yarn bag.” It used to be his old school bag. Until he’d left it at Bobby’s to go to Stanford.

“Do you two ever listen to me when I talk?” Dean complained.

I ignored Dean’s whining. “Doesn’t this look familiar?” I squinted at the picture of Sam from when he was a baby. I fished for the drawings Sam had stuck under a random bag.

“Dude, listen to me when I’m talking!”

“Oh, you’re right.” Sam held the printed picture next to his drawing. “The tree. It’s the same one.”

“What’s the same one?”

“It’s the same as this one too.” I compared all of the pictures. The same tree.

“Will someone tell me what’s going on? What tree? And why is Sam tryin’ to be Picasso?”

“You know Picasso?” Sam looked impressed with his brother.

“Oh, so now you hear me.” Dean crossed his arms in a huff.

“Alright, big man.” I patted Dean’s shoulder. “No need to get all twisted up about this.”

“Oh yeah? My wife is scheming with my baby brother and you’re telling me to not get upset?”

“Yes, that’s what your wife is telling you.”

“Then I tell her to shut up.” Dean pulled me down to kiss me on the lips.

“Seriously? Sam’s watching.”

“He didn’t care when he was driving Jessica into the bed two days ago.”

“I thought we said we weren’t gonna talk about that.” Sam grumbled. “Anyways, Dean.”

“Yeah?” Dean tore his eyes away from me to look at Sam.

“All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right?” Sam showed Dean the picture. “The house where Mom died?”

“Yeah.” Dean grew quiet.

“And it didn't burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” Sam looked like he was panicking. But also hopeful. This must be the episode where Mary’s spirit saved the two boys.

“I guess so, yeah.”

“I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean looked uncomfortable. I rested a hand on his shoulder to remind him he wasn’t alone.

“Back home –- back to Kansas.”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?” Dean flared.

“Dean, just listen to him.” I slipped my hand under his flannel to rub circles on his clothed shoulder.

“Why would you think that?” He grabbed a pen and tapped it rapidly on the table.

“Uh… it's just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam turned around to leave.

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” Dean stood up too, gently taking my hand off his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, man, that's weak.” Dean blocked the door so Sam couldn’t leave. “You gotta give me a little bit more than that.”

Sam glanced back at me. I nodded encouragingly. “You guys are gonna have to talk about this sometime.” I grabbed both the brothers’ arms and sat them across from each other at the table. “Do you two want space?”

“Can you stay?” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, sure.” I sat down next to him.

Dean glanced in between the two of us. “Am I gonna find out you two are getting under the sheets together or what?”

“Now is not the time for your jokes.” I tapped his shoe with mine. “And no, we’re not getting freaky under the sheets.”

Sam finally cut in. “I have these nightmares.”

“I’ve noticed.” Dean deadpanned.

“And sometimes… they come true.”

The older brother was stunned. “Come again?”

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica's death — for days before it happened.”

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I'm sure it's just a coincidence. Besides, Jessica didn’t die, did she?”

“No, but she was meant to. She didn’t die because Sharon changed the course of events. I dreamt about blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn't do anything about it ‘cause I didn't believe it. That would have actually happened if Sharon didn’t do anything. And now I'm dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that's where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

Dean stood up shakily from the chair to go and sit on the bed instead. I hadn’t seen him shaken up in a while. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

“What do you mean you don't know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and tried to kill Jessica! Hell, it tried to kill Sharon too!”

Dean was taking in shallower and shallower breaths. “All right, just slow down, would ya?” He stood up and started pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining? And then you tell me that I've gotta go back home? Especially when…” Dean looked like he would pass out. His face had gone pale. No doubt the memories from twenty two years ago were coming back. I touched his hand and guided him back to the bed where he sat down with his head in his hands. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

“Sam.” I shushed the younger brother when he opened his mouth ready to argue. “Let’s take a minute, yeah?”

Both brothers nodded. Sam sat down on the bed opposite the one Dean and I were on.

“When did these dreams start?”

“A couple nights ago.”

Okay. “And how long did it take for the fire at Stanford to happen after your dreams started?”

“About a week.”

“So can we assume this woman will be okay for another day?”

Sam pressed his lips together. “It doesn’t feel like it’ll happen tonight. No.”

“Then let’s let Dean figure things out.” I rubbed Dean’s back.

“And then we’ll go?”

“Sure. let’s sleep on it tonight. And we can leave tomorrow morning. That okay with everyone?”

Dean nodded. As did Sam.

That night, none of us slept. Dean insisted on me reading him a book. I had his head tucked against my chest and his arms clinging onto me desperately. And even though Sam pretended to be asleep, he was listening to me read too. I could hear him make shuffling noises he only made when he was awake in bed.

But if it helped give both the boys peace, or even just one of them, I didn’t mind reading aloud all night.

 

Since no one slept, we managed to get out of the house by 6:00 AM for once. A few hours of nonstop driving later, we were in Lawrence, Kansas. I parked next to the Impala and waited for the brothers to step out.

Sam looked ready to go. Dean not so much.

“You gonna be all right, man?” Sam worried.

“Let me get back to you on that.” Dean replied.

Sam glanced at me and nodded. I nodded back. Sam led us up to the front door. Dean silently trailed behind. I chose to bring up the rear. Make sure the boys were still okay.

Jenny opened the door when we knocked on it. Sam stiffened at the sight of her.

“Yes?” Jenny said softly.

“Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but we're with the Federal–” Dean started.

“I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother, Dean. And that’s his wife, Sharon. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place. Kind of… show her around what our childhood home used to look like too.”

“Winchester. Yeah, that's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” Jenny laughed and opened the door wider.

“You did?” Dean looked shocked.

Jenny stepped aside to let us in. “Come on in.”

The house was huge. It had looked humongous from the outside, but it looked even larger from the inside. The layout was quite similar to Bobby’s place. But it felt too big, too empty. Like something was wrong with the place. Dean was still taking in the sight even though Sam had moved in right behind Jenny. I nudged Dean to move along from the doorway. He walked slowly, his movements stiff. I kept a hand on his arm to keep him from slipping too deep into his memories.

Jenny let us into the kitchen. There was a young girl sitting at the table, working on what seemed like homework. And a young toddler was bouncing in his playpen. “Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!”

Jenny laughed. “That's Ritchie. He's kind of a juice junkie. But, hey, at least he won't get dirty” She grabbed a sippy cup out of the fridge and gave it to him. I wasn’t going to comment on her parenting skills, but giving babies that much juice hardly seemed like a good idea. But hey, I wasn’t the mom here and moms know best right? She then introduced us to Sari. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Sharon. Sam and Dean used to live here.”

“Hi.” said Sari from her book.

“Hey Sari.” Sam waved back.

Dean stood awkwardly in his own old home’s kitchen. He cleared his throat. “So, you just moved in?”

“Yeah, from Wichita.” Jenny answered with a smile. “Do you guys want anything to eat? Or drink?”

“Water is fine.” I chimed.

“You got family here, or…?” Dean continued.

“No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job– I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“So, how you likin' it so far?” Sam asked.

“Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home– I mean, I'm sure you had lots of happy memories here.” As happy as they could get. Dean smiled so weakly at the comment. “But this place has its issues.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked earnestly.

“Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights almost hourly.”

That had Dean’s attention. “Oh, that's too bad. What else?”

“Um… sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement.” She laughed nervously when she realised she was going off on a tangent. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain.”

“No, no it’s fine. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

“It's just the scratching, actually.”

“Mom?” Sari suddenly piped from her spot at the table. Jenny kneeled down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam knelt down on her other side.

“The thing in my closet.” she said quietly.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny looked at Sam and Dean with a smile. “Right?”

“Right. No, no, of course not.” Sam chuckled. But I could see the gears in his head turning. Something was here. Poltergeist to be specific. And Mary.

“She had a nightmare the other night.” Jenny explained.

“I wasn't dreaming. It came into my bedroom– and it was on fire.”

Fire. Mary. She was protecting the little girl.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other knowingly.

 

“You hear that? A figure on fire.” Sam said as soon as we left the house.

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true.”

“Well, forget about that for a minute.” Sam grabbed my shoulder with a panicked look. I tried not to wince at the force he was holding me with. “The thing in the house, is it the thing that killed Mom and tried to kill Jessica?” He then turned to Dean with wide eyes.

“I don’t know!” Dean was starting to panic too.

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?”

“Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet.”

Yeah, they were both panicking. This wasn’t good. “Boys, calm down.”

“Well, those people are in danger, Sharon. And it might be the same thing that killed Mom and came after Jess. How am I supposed to calm down?” Sam turned back to look at the house. “We have to get ‘em out of that house.”

“And we will.” Dean said firmly.

“No, I mean now.” Sam started walking back up the path.

Dean marched up and blocked his brother’s path.“And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?”

Sam looked at me and Dean pleadingly. “Then what are we supposed to do?”

 

We ended up at a gas station to grab food.

“You two just need to relax and do what we do on any other case.” I told them.

“Okay,” Dean ran his hands down his face. “So if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

“We'd try to figure out what we were dealin' with. We'd dig into the history of the house.” Sam answered softly.

“Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened.” Dean quipped.

“Yeah, but how much do we know?” Sam rambled. “I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

“About that night, you mean?” Dean’s hands brushed against mine, seeking comfort.

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed dryly.

I encased Dean’s hand in mine, gently squeezing. Sam clenched his phone in his hand. I could see his finger hover over Jessica’s number.

“Not much. I remember the fire… the heat.” Dean sighed. “And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?” Sam sounded surprised.

“Yeah, what, you never knew that?” Dean scoffed.

“No.” Sam whispered.

“And did you know that?” Dean asked me.

I nodded. “I know everything.”

He turned to Sam again. “And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was…was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?” Sam asked.

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

“Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now… we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing.” He turned to me to confirm. There was nothing I could say to that.

Dean slipped his hand out of my hold and clapped to get both our attention. “Okay, We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Sam bristled at the matter of fact tone of his brother. “Does this feel like just another job to you?”

“I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom.” Dean muttered and left.

“This is just another job to him.” Sam laughed with disbelief. “Is this another job to you too?”

“Of course not.” I took his hand in mine. “He’s acting like he’s fine. But you know he’s not.”

Sam pressed his lips together as he realised that Dean had gripped my hand so tightly there were red marks left on my hand. “I wish he would talk to me. He talks to you. Sometimes Dad, but never me. It’s always me who’s left out. Baby Sammy needs to be protected. Always.” he said bitterly. “I can handle it. I can handle the truth. But why won’t they tell me anything?”

“I wouldn’t tell you either.” I said truthfully. “You know what I used to call you? Sammy baby.” I laughed at the memories.“Even though you were much older than me. It felt like you needed to be protected. I know you don’t need to be. You’re strong, stronger than Dean in ways. You deserve to know everything. But still. It’s like we all need to protect you.”

“I’m 22. I’m an adult.”

“I know. We all know that. But you’re still our baby brother. It doesn’t matter how old you are Sammy. We’ll always be older than you. And always want you to be safe. We’ll always try to protect you. Because that’s what your elders do. Now c’mere before I change my mind.” I held my arm up and motioned for him to join me in a hug. “And let your crappy elders do what little they think helps, alright? We messed up your life in ways that can’t be fixed. Makes us feel better.”

“Makes me feel like shit.” he muttered but leaned against my shoulder anyway. “I wish you guys didn’t care so much.”

I clapped his back. “Sure buddy.”

“Sharon?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Always, Sammy. Always.”

 

I sat on my bike next to the Impala and flipped through John’s diary and the local phonebook. A flyer with ‘local psychics’ was stuck on a telephone pole next to me. A few names came up, but there was one that really mattered.

“Missouri Moseley.” I read her name. It always stood out from most of the characters. Missouri.

“So where we going next?” Dean said as he walked up to me. “The garage guy said Dad was looking into psychics.”

I showed him the name in the phonebook, then the flyer, and then John’s journal. “Missouri. Psychic.”

“I always thought he meant the state.” Dean slammed the journal shut and got in the car. “What’re we waiting for? Let’s go.”

I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes.

 

The three of us sat in Missouri’s waiting room, waiting for the sweet stout black lady to be done with the last client of the day.

“All right, there. Don't you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.” She said as she escorted the man out. The man mumbled a quick thank you and Missouri shut the door behind him softly. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin' the gardener.”

“Why didn't you tell him?” Dean said in confusion.

“People don't come here for the truth. They come for good news.” Missouri explained. “Well? Sam, Dean, and Sharon. come on already, I ain't got all day.” The three of us followed her into the next room. “Well, lemme look at ya.” She laughed. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome. Hope they haven’t been much of a handful for you, sweetie.” I squeezed my eyes closed when she pinched my cheeks. “You are an adorable little thing. How did you end up with him?” She pointed at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” Dean gave her a scowl while Sam smirked beside him. “Sam.” Missouri held Sam’s hand. “Oh, honey… I'm sorry about everything that has happened. And your father– he's missin'?”

“How'd you know all that?” Sam said with wonder.

“Well, you were just thinkin' it just now.”

Sam looked at her in awe.

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean was more pressed about the situation.

“I don’t know.” Missouri glanced at me. Did she know I knew she knew?

Dean continued. “Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be a psychic, right?”

Missouri flared. “Boy, you see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.” There were four cups of coffee on the table. I gratefully accepted my cup. Wow, just the right amount of sugar. Sam was enjoying the one sided beatdown Dean was getting. Missouri suddenly snapped at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, Imma whack you with a spoon!”

“I agree.” I chimed.

Dean looked shocked. “I didn’t do anything.”

“But you were thinkin' about it.” Missouri scoffed.

Dean just stared in shock.

Sam cleared his throat and brought the conversation back to what we came here for. “Okay. So, our dad– when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say… I drew back the curtains for him.” Wow. Missouri had been his introduction to the life. Wow. I had completely forgotten.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean asked.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin' I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?” asked Sam.

“I…” Missouri shook her head.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. But oh… it was evil.”

We spent the next few minutes explaining what had been going on in the house, and why we were here asking questions twenty years later.

“So… you think somethin' is back in that house?” Missouri said, surprised.

“Definitely,” Sam answered.

“I don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents. Why is it actin' up now?”

“I don't know. But Dad going missing and Jessica nearly dying and now this house all happening at once– it just feels like something's starting.”

“That’s a comforting thought.” Dean muttered.

 

“So we’re just gonna walk up to the door, tell her there really is something in her closet, and that she and her kids will die if we don’t get them out?” I stared at Missouri. Like hell that plan was gonna work. It worked in the show, but was it seriously going to work just like that? I’d been impressed that Jenny had even opened the door to let in three strangers. If it were me with my kids alone in a house and two random dudes just showed up saying ‘yo can we come in we missed our old home lol’ I would be pulling out a rifle and a machete.

Jenny opened the door when we knocked. “Oh. What are you guys doing here?” She looked like she was in shock. Ritchie must have just been pulled out from the fridge.

“Hey, Jenny. This is our friend, Missouri.” Sam introduced her.

“If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time's sake.” Dean flashed her a smile.

“You know, this isn't a good time. I'm kind of busy.” Jenny bounced little Ritchie in her arms.

“Listen, Jenny, it's important.” Dean started, only to be smacked by Missouri. “Ow!”

“Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?” She looked sympathetically at Jenny. “Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out.”

“About what?”

“About this house.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?”

Jenny stiffened. “Who are you?”

“We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us, just a little.”

 

Jenny was either too trusting of a woman or an idiot. Who just lets strangers into their kid’s bedroom? Sam, Dean, and Missouri didn’t seem to find this odd at all. Was things just weird in this world? It hadn’t been that bad the past few cases cause we’d kind of told everyone we were the FBI or park rangers or police or whatever. But now? Seriously?

“If there's a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it.”

“Why?” Sam asked as he looked out the window.

“This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.” Sam started looking at the room a little more closely. Dean pulled out an EMF that started whirring as soon as he brought it out. “That an EMF?” Missouri asked.

“Yeah.” Dean answered.

“Amateur.” Dean glared at the older woman. “I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam was surprised. “How do you know?”

“It isn't the Same energy I felt the last time I was here. It's somethin' different.” Missouri opened the closet.

“What is it?” Dean looked around cautiously.

“Not it. Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?”

“They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected.”

“I don't understand.” Sam whispered.

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.” Missouri explained.

“You said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can't quite make out the second one.”

“Well, one thing's for damn sure,” Dean said sharply. “Nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

 

We ended up at Missouri’s house again, making hex bags of sorts.

“So, what is all this stuff, anyway?” Dean asked even as he put a sprinkle of some weird herb into his pouch.

“Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, a few other odds and ends.” Missouri pulled out a few more stuff.

“Yeah? What are we supposed to do with it?” Dean lifted his pouch to the sky.

“We're gonna put them inside the walls in the north, south, east, west corners on each floor of the house.”

“We'll be punchin' holes in the drywall. Jenny's gonna love that.”

“She’ll live.” Missouri pointed out.

I finished up my pouch with a slip knot. “I’m done.”

“And these’ll destroy the spirits?” Sam asked.

“It should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad.”

“Attic too?” I looked at her.

“Attic too.” Missouri nodded. “One of us will have to take the basement.”

“They have basements in Kansas?” I felt lightheaded. So everyone would have one floor to be half killed by the poltergeist in. Great.

 

“Look, I'm not sure I'm comfortable leaving you guys here alone.” Jenny said as she held onto Ritchie and Sari.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin', and it'll be over by the time you get back.” Missouri repeated and Jenny hesitantly left the house to us.

“So, work fast.” I inhaled sharply and got to work. I was to take the second floor, Sam was going to take the attic, Dean the basement, and Missouri the first floor.

I ran up the stairs, watching as Sam easily overtook me with his longer legs. Well he was fast. I found the first wall and held my hammer tighter. Sorry wall. I swung into the thin walls and tossed the first pouch in.

Furniture started flying. But I was prepared. I’d been practicing on how to get a better grasp of my powers, and now I could throw things pretty much at will with just a small nosebleed and a light headache. It was a pretty fair trade considering Sam had to drink demon blood to actually do what I could do.

Next wall. I ran for the next one, flinging all the obstacles out of my way. But I hadn’t exactly expected to be choked by a G string. Why was a G string here anyway?

I spotted the washing machine out of the corner of my eye and held back an internal groan. The poltergeist had started pulling out clothes to use as a weapon.

I managed to will the top of the washing machine shut. I clawed at the cloth around my neck and with a little bit of maneuvering got a finger to wiggle free through the elastic. This better be a clean one. I tore at it with all my strength and I was free from the poltergeist.

I stumbled in the direction of the next wall and brought the hammer down on that one too. I threw the next bag into the newly formed hole and raced for the last two walls.

“Which ones left?!” Sam yelled as he made his way down the stairs.

“East!” I yelled back. “I’ll take North!” I passed him the last hex bag and we got to work.

I was starting to get dizzy. Using my powers, getting choked, and having to fight off G strings was taking its toll. I used what little strength I had to make a hole in the wall and throw in the hex bag. Done. Had Sam gotten his one in? I went to check on him. I felt weak, but if Sam was hurt then surely I could do something to help him.

I slid through the doorway as soon as I heard a scream. Sam was helplessly pinned against the wall by a table. He let out another scream as the edges dug into him.

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he too got to us.”

Hex bag. I spotted the bag next to Sam. I ran and picked it up. “Are the rest done?!”

“Yeah!” Dean replied good. 

 I used the momentum to kick a hole in the wall and threw in the last hex bag.

A flash of white light blinded all of us and I knelt down to shield my eyes from it.

It finally disappeared and I collapsed on the floor with a sigh of relief. Done. It was done.

“Little help here…” Sam mumbled from where he had been pinned.

Dean grunted as he joined Sam in pushing the table off of him. And the two brothers stumbled to where I was still catching my breath from the ordeal.

“We’re done?” Dean panted.

“Should be.” Missouri huffed as she too made it up the stairs.

“Never again.” I officially hated poltergeists. “That thing was crazy.”

“Sharon,”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“You have blood on your nose.”

“I’ll get it later.”

 

“We did break the drywall.” I told Jenny. “But we’ve left enough cash to cover the expenses. And then some.” I smiled when Ritchie grasped my jeans out of curiosity. “You could buy some juice for him.”

“Juice!” Ritchie immediately perked up.

“We’re done cleaning up.” Dean groaned from behind me.

“It sucked.” Sam sighed as he came to stand next to me.

“But you all should be fine now.” Missouri said as she came to stand next to me. “You and your kids are welcome to my place for tea any time.”

“Juice! Juice! Juice!”

“You’re an addict, aren’t you?” I held out my hand and Ritchie smacked it with all the strength of a toddler. “Good one.”

 

“All right, so, tell me again, what are we still doin' here?” Dean said from the driver’s seat.

“I don't know. I just… I still have a bad feeling. Sharon also hasn’t made a move.” Sam pointed out.

I nodded. Something was going to happen.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.” But Dean obviously didn’t understand. Who even was Zelda Rubenstein?

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that's all.”

“Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.” Dean scoffed and leaned back. “Can I get a massage at least, sweetheart?”

“Dean. Look, Dean! Come on, Sharon!” Sam suddenly said.

I snapped up straight and followed Sam as he ran into the house.

Jenny was banging on the windows on the second floor. The thing inside must have gotten to her. Whatever Zelda thing Missouri did, didn’t work.

“You two grab the kids. I’ll get Jenny!” Dean instructed. And he split off from us at the landing.

Ritchie was in the room next to Sari’s. “Get Sari, Sam!” I yelled.

“Got it!”

He and I split up too, only to reconvene as a spirit on fire appeared in the hallway.

I jumped in fear at the sight, but calmed myself down. It was Mary, just Mary. She was protecting us. She wasn’t going to hurt us.

Ritchie wailed in my arms as I ran down the stairs as quickly as I could.

Something suddenly grabbed my leg. I dropped Ritchie to the floor. “Alright, Ritchie. Run.” I held back a scream when I felt the thing digging into my ankles. “Run, Ritchie! Run!”

Sam came rushing downstairs too. “Sam! Take the kids and go!”

“But what about– Oh my God.” Sam finally spotted the blood on my ankle.

“Go!” I yelled as the thing tried to drag me back inside.

I kicked at the invisible creature. A scream tore through my chest as it threw me against the wall. I reached for my gun and shot at where I thought the thing was. But nothing happened.

“Sharon!” Dean and Sam were immediately at my side.

“The kids?” I looked around.

“Safe.” Sam said as he tried to help me up. “We have to get out of here.”

“Can’t stand.” My leg hurt like hell. It was throbbing and bleeding and the wound stung to high heavens.

The fiery figure appeared in front of us out of nowhere.

Dean raised his gun to shoot. I grabbed his arm weakly.

“No, don't! Don't!” Sam said a little more strongly. He stood between Dean and the figure. “I know who it is. I can see her now.” Sam whispered.

The fire started to dissipate from around the figure. And the beautiful blonde woman with green eyes came in sight.

“Mom?” Dean whispered. His gun slowly lowered.

I held myself up using the broken wall as Dean walked closer to his mom.

“Dean.” Mary said softly, before walking towards Sam. both boys’ shoulders started to tremble as they held back tears. “Sam.” Mary’s beautiful smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam begged.

But Mary didn’t reply. She walked away from both the boys and looked up at the ceiling of the house. “You get out of my house. And let go of my kids.” She demanded.

One more time, she exploded into flames, and I could feel tears run down my cheeks. The brothers just had to watch their mom set ablaze one more time. As if once wasn’t hard enough. They had to say goodbye again.

I slid down the wall as I felt the force vanish with Mary.

“Now it’s over.” Sam whispered.

But no, it wasn’t. The fifteen year long tragedy had barely just begun.

 

“Do you know what Mom meant by she was sorry?” Sam asked from the other bed. I couldn’t answer that. “So it was something significant.” Sam looked down with a bitter smile. “I hate that the answers are right in front of me. Literally. But we can’t do anything about it.”

“Me too.” I hated it too. I hated not being able to speak. I hated that every time I picked up a pen or tried to type out what I wanted to say, I was forced to stop by the ringing in my ears. I wanted to scream out everything that happened in their lives. But nothing.

I crawled up to the pillow on my and Dean’s bed. “You should get some sleep.”

“Dean’s not back yet.” Sam pointed out.

“He’s just getting some things sorted out.”

“Like the pictures.”

“Yeah, like the pictures.” I glanced at the clock that read 11:27 PM. “Go to sleep Sammy. It’s been a long and rough few days.”

“You’re right.” He stared at the ceiling. “I don’t think I can sleep though.”

“Want a lullaby?” I walked over to sit on his bed.

“Should you be walking on that?” He looked over worriedly at my bandaged foot.

I shrugged. “I’ll live. Once Dean gets me those painkillers, I think I’ll be fine. Cramps hurt almost as bad.”

“TMI.” he mumbled but rolled so that he was facing my direction.

“So lullaby.” I teased. “Big boy Sammy wants big sister to sing him a lullaby.”

“Shut up.” he huffed.

I laughed and turned off the lights to sit down next to his pillow. His head found my waist and he wrapped his arms around me like a pillow. I patted his head rhythmically with my thumb and started humming. I could feel Sam’s tears start to seep through my nightgown.

The lullaby tended to bring me to tears too. It was the song my grandma used to hum to her kids and then my mother and her sisters to me and my cousins. I’d forgotten the lyrics a long time ago. My mom hadn’t sung it to me since I’d turned eleven. There hadn’t been a need to. Did I crave it? Yes, God yes. What I wouldn’t give to hear the nonsensical boring hum of my mom’s voice cracked singing. The lyrics never made sense to me. Felt like a bunch of gibberish, other than the few words about fishermen tucking their fishermen kids under fishermen nets. But I wished I’d paid more attention. Now I was scared that the tune would slip out of my head, and I wouldn’t be able to remember the feeling of being patted to sleep. I kept my own breathing steady though as Sam’s breathing turned into snores. I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over the gun on the nightstand.

I couldn’t leave the brothers like this. Something had to be done.

Like… I shuddered at the thought that just crossed my mind. It would work. Technically. Theoretically it would work.

No .

Oh, hello there Angel living rent free in my head.

That thought. You can’t be serious.

But I was. The boys would be happy. They would have one big happy family.

You can’t seriously think that.

I could. And I could very much go through with the plan.

Then what about me?

Hah! An Angel was worried about what I was gonna do? It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried stopping me from doing things.

I can only prevent you from revealing the future, to maintain the balance in this world.

So I could do what I’d just thought of… Thanks Angel in my head. That made things easier.

No. There is no way.

I can and I will.

No. Absolutely not.

Shut up. This was my life. I chose whatever I wanted to do with it. If the Angel needed another place to live, then it could start paying rent for a less suicidal person.

… Think about it. I’ll be back.

Silence reigned once more as I leaned against the headboard. Could I actually go through with that plan?

The door slowly clicked open and a tired Dean slipped inside.

He spotted me trapped by Sam. “Hey,” he whispered. “Is he asleep?” I nodded in response. He took out a bottle of pills and placed it on the nightstand. “Tylenol. Extra strength.” He placed a bottle of water for me too. “How bad does it hurt?”

“A bit.” I twisted the cap off and popped three into my mouth.

“Let me see.” Dean knelt by my feet to undo the bandages. “It’s not bleeding anymore.”

“Sam’s good at sowing. He should be a seamstress.”

“Human seamstress maybe.”

He came back up to me and started unentangling me from his brother. I moved to get my legs off the bed but Dean had other plans. He slipped an arm under my knee and back and hoisted me up.

“Really? Princess carry?” Despite my snarky remark, I smiled at him.

“Had to assert dominance after the stunt he pulled with my wife.”

“Like asking me to sing him a lullaby?”

Dean smirked. “He wanted a lullaby?”

“I offered and he didn’t say no.”

Dean kissed me on the lips before placing me down gently on our bed. “He’s got Jess already and he still wants you, huh? Cheeky bastard.” He pulled the covers over me, making sure I was tucked in comfortably. “Tell me if your leg starts hurting.”

“And how are you?”

“Me? I’m peachy.” He changed his clothes right in front of me. I looked away out of basic decency and respect. I felt his arms wrap around me a moment later and felt him nuzzle into my hair. “Hey, Sharon?”

“Yeah?” I held his hands around my waist.

“Things are gonna be okay, right?” I squeezed his hands. It wasn’t a response I had. “You hate watching tragedies. You wouldn’t have watched this show, or whatever, if people died.”

Yeah, about that. I’d been told it was about two goofy brothers that went off hunting and killing non-human things for fifteen seasons of comedy. But it had been a complete lie.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He said. But it was more for him than it was for me.

“Hang in there.” I finally said. “Hang in there, Dean.”

I could feel his hands start to shake along with his breath. “Let it all out.” I turned so I could press him against my chest instead. He willingly slid down the pillow and pulled me closer. “Let it all out.”

Notes:

GOT FIVE EXAMS, TWO OF WHICH ARE DUE TONIGHT BUT A GIRL WORKS BETTER UNDER PRESSURE. No like srsly, my brain juices won't flow unless the world is about to end. HAHAHAHAHAHA. Also that period tracker on LADS is INSANE. LIKE WHO IS COMING UP WITH THAT I LOVE THEIR MARKETING TEAM. AND THE VALENTINES DAY EVENT??? HELLO SHIRTLESS SYLUS SIR DADDY ALL CHAINED UP FOR OUR 'OBSERVATION'. Alr I'll shut up about my fictional men. I'll see y'all soon :)

Chapter 16: Asylum

Summary:

"Her bony fingers curled over my wrist as she held me in place. As much as I wanted to close my eyes to block out her bloody bleeding eye, I couldn’t out of fear."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Nothing
2. Terrible writing. Idk what to do with this chapter
Sorry this one is super short. I genuinely have nothing to add with this one. I'll do waaayyy better with the next one, promise. Still working on the smut writing skills. :D

“Three whiskey sours!” “Orange Daiquiri!” “Make that two!” “Five negronis!” “Four Bloody Marys!”

Busy, busy, busy. Working at busy bars was my favorite. None of that bartender therapy stuff, just drunk old dudes who gave you a 100% tip if you smiled at them sweetly enough. And tips were great. I’d once made a thousand in a day, granted I’d worked eight hours straight, but the money had been worth it.

Someone slapped a few bills on the counter and I sweeped it up to ring it in the register.

“Making good time, Sharon!” complimented the manager.

“Ten beers!” someone yelled.

“Can you pass me the–” What was her name again? Catherine? Cathy? Cattie? Katie? Ugh. What did it matter? I passed the giant beer mugs to the girl.

“Thanks Sharon.” the girl chirped.

She knew me but I didn’t know her. I felt a little guilty. But in my defense I was only here for the four hour rush.

“Wanna take that break?” the manager asked as I placed another glass in the sink.

“Nah. I think I would rather make those tips.” I smiled and got back to work.

My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket. I reached down and turned it off. Whoever it was could wait. I had money to make.

 

When my shift ended, I was handed my pay in cash.

I pulled out my phone to see who had been ringing me nonstop and froze. A set of coordinates from an unknown number. Was that John? Had I just missed a text from John? I tried calling back at the number, but nothing. I quickly dialed Dean’s number.

He picked up on the first ring. “Sweetheart?”

“John texted.” I got on my bike and got her started. “At least I’m pretty sure it’s him.”

“Dad?” I could hear rapid shuffling. “What did he say?”

“He sent coordinates. I’m heading to the motel now. Gimme a few.”

“Did-did he say anything else?”

“No. And the number’s dead.”

 

“You think Dad was texting us?” Sam said as Dean banged away on his laptop.

“He's given us coordinates before.” Dean replied.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean.” Sam pointed out. “And why did he text Sharon? No offense, by the way, but we’re kind of his sons.”

“Cause he knew she wouldn’t panic at his message.” Dean glanced at me. “Right?”

“Maybe. I don’t know what he thinks.” I sat down on the bed as the boys figured out where the coordinates led to.

“Rockford, Illinois.” Dean said as he swiveled the laptop to us.

“So what’s over there?” Sam asked.

“I checked the local Rockford paper. This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What does this have to do with us?”

“Dad earmarked the Same asylum in the journal. Let's see…” Dean flipped through the journal. “Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths– till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam snorted. “This is a job… Dad wants us to work a job.”

“Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?” Dean looked at me hopefully.

No, we weren’t gonna meet up with him there. It wasn’t time yet. I just gave a weak smile in response.

“He could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.” Sam looked at his brother with disbelief.

“Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!”

“This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?”

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.” Dean said with a warning in his tone and the three of us were off on the road once more.

 

Another job at another bar. This one was chill. Not much going on. Just a couple of drinks here and there. A perfect place for our plan to work out.

“You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?” Dean forcefully sat in the empty seat next to the man.

“Yeah, I am. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here.” the man said defensively.

“That's okay, we swear it won't take that long.” Sam slid onto his other side. “We just want to get the story in your words.”

“A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?” the man glared. He motioned for another beer that I was more than happy to provide.

“Sorry. But we need to know what happened.” Dean pressed.

I watched as Sam and Dean bothered the police officer. They got rough with the man, grabbing and jerking his shoulder and whatnot. Total hoodlums. Best part? They looked like it too. Was it time for me to step in though? I decided to enjoy Dean’s aggressive ‘bad boy’ side a little bit longer. He looked hot in his act. A moment later, his green eyes were on me, silently asking why I hadn’t stepped in yet. Dammit. I cleared my throat.

“You boys leave the poor man alone.” I said from behind the bar.

“Oh yeah? Whatchu gonna do ‘bout it?” Sam said, leaning over the counter.

“Tiny thin’ like you… I beat them for breakfast.” Dean smirked.

That line… sucked.

“I’ll call the bouncer.” I gave the brothers my best glare.

A beefy man rounded up the corner. The two Winchesters raised their hands in defense and left.

“Thanks.” the cop, Gunderson, mumbled. It was Gunderson, right?

“No problem.” I finished pouring his beer and slid over his glass. “You’re an officer right?”

“Yeah.” he sighed.

“You deal with people like that a lot?”

“Everyday.” he rubbed his head.

“Next one’s on me.” I flashed him my customer service smile. I really hated this bartender therapy thing.

 

“You actually sent the bouncer on us.” Dean said as I walked over.

I waved my wad of cash in his face and tucked it into my pocket. “It got me money.”

“So what’d you find out from Gunderson?”

“Walter Kelly sounds like a good guy. Top of his class, good wife, good career, thinking about kids, bright future. Did have a few fights with his wife, but who doesn’t?”

“Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.”

“Right.” Sam nodded in agreement. “What did you find out about the asylum?”

“Oh, a ton.”

 

“I hate that I’m getting good at this.” I couldn’t help but comment as I clambered over the chain linked fence. “Don’t look up.” I reminded the boys and landed with a soft oomph on the ground.

“There’s nothing to see.” Dean rolled his eyes as he landed next to me. “Maybe don’t wear a skirt the next time we climb over a fence.”

I jabbed his shin with my boot. “Okay, for once we’re not hunting something in the woods, so you bet I’m wearing a skirt.” I rubbed my arms up and down as the cold wind hit. “Anyways. The cops chased the kids here, the South Wing.” the three of us glanced up at the sign that literally read ‘South Wing’.

“South wing, huh? Wait a second.” Dean opened up John’s journal. “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So whatever's going on, the south wing is the heart of it.” Sam thought aloud.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?”

Sam motioned towards the chains. “Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years.”

“Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in.” Dean looked at me and Sam.

“We’re seriously going in, just like that?” I watched in alarm as the brothers started pushing the door open.

“Come on, sweetheart. Or are you scared the monster will peek up your skirt?” Dean snickered.

I slammed my boot into the back of his knee, making him stumble. “Keep your mouth shut. If something happens to me, the first thing I’m doing is killing you.”

 

The asylum hardly looked inviting. It was cold, empty, dark, with never ending hallways and rooms with doors that looked the same, just with different numbers. It was disorienting. I was pretty sure we were breathing in black mold too considering how damp this place was. I held back a shudder when I stepped on a puddle. I was scrubbing that boot when I got back to the motel.

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel.” Dean called out to Sam. “and now we have two of you.”

“Seriously?” I glared at Dean.

“Dude, enough.” Sam snapped too.

“I'm serious. You two gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you guys got going on. I thought one would be bad, but two might lead to it being worse.”

My skin bristled. ‘Worse’? What was ‘worse’? And bad? He thought I was bad? “Bad? What has my telekinesis done to you?” I turned around to fix Dean with a stare. “And stop saying that about Sam. He’s trying his best, alright? If you’re so worried, then you can stay behind, and let the ‘freak’s handle it.”

“I didn’t say that.” Dean tried to defend himself.

This bastard. Did he not understand he was hurting my feelings here? And Sam’s? “You know what? I’m done with your BS.” I held my rocksalt shotgun tighter and shoved past him. “Go do your little thing.”

“Hey! It’s not safe to be alone!” Dean tried to grab me but I slipped past into a different hallway. I made sure a table slid in between him and me. I wasn’t dealing with him any time soon. I could defend myself against a crazy asylum ghost.

I wandered into a room and blinked to register what I was seeing. Electric shock therapy chairs, lobotomy equipment, trepanation tools… I’d only ever read about them in history books. And even then I’d thought they were crazy for even thinking it would work, but the artwork was goofy and me and my classmates had gotten a good laugh out of it. Actually looking at the things used on those poor people just made me thankful I lived in a time where people with mental health were frowned at and then drugged up. I didn’t exactly want a hole in my skull.

“There you are.” Sam said as he stumbled into the room I was in.

“Yeah.” I looked behind him. “Where’s Dean?”

“Kind of… had a disagreement.” Sam said sheepishly. “He’s being a dick.”

“Felt that.” I waved my flashlight around the room. “It’s someone’s office.” I spotted the fallen name plate on the table. “Wanna read that?”

“You touch it.” Sam had disgust in his voice.

“Ugh.” I took a deep breath of the cold musty air and gingerly flipped the name plate. “S something Ellicott.” The name plate had rusted over and the grooves in the metal were barely legible anymore.

“San…” Sam tried to read.

“Fo…” I squinted.

“R?”

“D. Sanford. Sanford Elicott.”

“Can’t be too many of those in the phonebook.”

 

“Sam’s got guts.” I munched on a bag of cashews as Sam walked into the therapist’s office. “I wouldn’t be able to walk into a therapy place.”

“I thought you were all for therapy?”

“I am. But I don’t think I’ll actually get therapy. You know. What the hell do you even talk about?”

“Sammy seems to know.” Dean leaned against his seat. “You think he got those free therapy sessions colleges offer?”

“For sure. I looked into it once. They were all online and I didn’t exactly want my parents to find out.”

“That why you run away from home?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

I frowned. “No.”

“You’re lying.”

“So what if I am?” I glared at him. “You don’t know what it’s like to have parents that hover and worry about you every second of the day.” Oh. Oh shit. No, no, no, no. “No, wait, Dean– I-I didn’t mean–”

“Yeah I don’t.” Dean’s voice had gone cold. “I don’t, alright? You don’t have to remind me of how screwed up my family is every damn time you open your mouth.”

“When have I ever done that– It was a slip of the tongue! I didn’t mean it literally!”

“Oh yeah? Cause it sure sounded like you did.” He forcefully opened Baby’s door and walked out. “I’m gonna wait inside.”

“Dean, wait–” But he’d already disappeared inside.

I slumped in the passenger’s seat, feeling guilty as hell. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

 

“I come bearing information.” Sam said with a smile as he got in the car. I’d taken a spot in the backseat, still digging into my cashews. Dean followed him silently. He wouldn’t even look at me. Then so be it. The bastard kept irritating me too. ESP this ESP that. He’d been treating me and Sam like freaks.

“It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.”

“Sounds cozy.” Dean commented.

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.”

“So the patients took over the asylum?”

“Apparently.”

“Any deaths?”

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.”

“What do you mean, never recovered?”

“Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've… stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden.”

“Damn.” I shuddered. “Some people are crazy.”

“Yeah, you can say that again. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down.”

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.” Dean deadpanned.

“And a bunch of angry spirits.” Sam added.

“Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight.”

 

“Are you two fighting again?” Sam whispered to me as we climbed over the fences again. Dean had already stomped ahead.

“He said something, I got mad. I said something, he got mad.” I summarised. “Nothing new really.”

“But the silence is killing me.” Sam sighed. “How’s the EMF?”

“Off the charts.” We wandered into the South Wing. “Whatcha see?” I tilted my head up to look through the video camera in Sam’s hands. “Damn.” There was a dude being electrocuted right in front of us. “What about there?” I grabbed Sam’s hand and turned it to face a room. “Live trepanation goes hard.”

“Most of these guys look harmless.” Sam noted.

“But something’s killing everyone.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t kill us too.”

We moved from room to room. I spotted Dean in the room across from us, but like hell I was gonna talk to him now.

“Sharon! Behind you!” I whipped around just in time to see a woman in white with bloody eyes reaching out her hand in my direction. I was pulled to the side by Sam. “Dean? Dean! Shotgun!” Sam yelled.

“Get down!” Dean yelled back. I grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled us both to the floor. I peeked up as the woman disintegrated into nothing.

“That was weird.” Sam commented.

“Yeah. You’re telling me.” Dean said as he strapped his shotgun back onto his shoulder.

“No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack us.” Sam and I followed him out the room.

“Looked pretty aggro from where I was standing.”

“She didn't hurt us. She didn't even try! So if she didn't wanna hurt us then what did she want?”

“Hell would I know.” Dean scoffed.

“And can you two stop being childish for once? It’s starting to get old.”

“She’s old.”

“I’m only two months older, genius.” I shot back. “I’m not the one with the shot liver.”

“Yeah, cause you’re such a prude! You work at bars. I’m pretty sure you sneak in a drink when you think no one’s watching.”

“Oh, and wouldn’t you know. You don’t even look at me when we’re at a bar! Your eyes are always on some random woman’s chest!”

“And you’re always staring at anyone with a decent amount of muscle!”

“Can you two take your lovers’ quarrel somewhere else?” Sam groaned.

“Shut up, Sam!”

“Don’t you shush the poor kid!”

“You’re always taking his side!”

“Because you called us both freaks! How do you think that made me feel?!” I pushed Sam aside and grabbed Dean by the collar. His green eyes looked angry. But so was I. “until you can figure that out, don’t talk to me.”

“With pleasure. And don’t you even ask me for anything until you take your words back.”

Like I ever asked him for anything. Dean continued walking down the hallway.

“What did you ever say to him?” Sam asked softly.

I bit my lip. “Something mean. But I never meant it like that.”

“I won’t judge.”

“It’s- it’s bad alright?” I too continued down the hallway. “It’ll hurt you too.”

Just then a scream erupted. The three of us sped up and we barged into a room. A blonde girl shook like a leaf as she crouched behind a bed in an effort to hide.

“It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay.” Dean said gently. “What's your name?”

“Katherine. Kat.” the girl whispered shakily. A lightbulb went off in my head. The woman from the bar a few days ago. Her name was Kat. But what did it matter now?

“Okay. I'm Dean, this is Sam. And that’s–”

“And Sharon.” I cut in. “We’re here to help.”

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

“Um. My boyfriend, Gavin.” Yeah that was all the explanation we needed.

“Is he here?” Dean asked.

“Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just… you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and…”

“Alright. Kat? Come on.” He helped the girl to her feet. “Sam’s gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.”

“No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.” Kat insisted. I always did like her character. She was strong. And that scene with her and the shotgun was fire.

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous.”

“That's why I gotta find him.” Kat stood her ground.

Dean looked at Sam who shrugged.

“Alright, I guess we're gonna split up then.”

“Sharon and Dean. Kat and I can look for Gavin.”

Seriously? I looked at Sam with disbelief. He was really putting the two of us together?

“What? You two sort things out.” Sam gave a cheeky smile and led a confused Kat out the door.

“This is ridiculous.” I sighed. But maybe we did need to sort things out.

Dean was walking at a brisk pace in front of me. I almost had to jog to keep up with him.

The tension was starting to kill me. “Look, Dean. We’re both idiots. Let’s just say sorry and get this over with.”

He sighed. “You’re right. We both know what the other person meant.”

“But we couldn’t keep our emotions in check.”

“So, sorry.”

“Sorry.” I paused. “We’re good?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He tugged on the hem of my shirt to pull me a little closer. “Kiss?” He smirked.

“Love it when you ask.” I tilted my head backwards so he could place a kiss on my lips.

 

Dean and I stuck close this time. He had his pace slowed down enough to match mine. The flashlight in my hands suddenly started glitching. “Oh God.” I shook the thing and banged it against my palm. “It’s out.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean put his hand into his pocket. “I have a lighter.”

Something suddenly grabbed onto my arm. It was cold, freezing, nothing like Dean’s. I tried to snatch my hand away from the thing holding onto it. I came face to face with the woman from before.

“Ack!” I couldn’t help the shriek that left me when the spirit dragged me into a room and the door slammed shut.

Dean was yelling from the other side, telling me to get away from the door because he was going to break it down.

I stuck to the wall beside the door with my heart practically throbbing in my head. Okay. If I remembered this episode correctly, then the spirit of the woman was good and giving us tips. I closed my eyes as she leaned in close. She was hauntingly creepy. Her hair was a tousled mess, YNs would be jealous of how perfectly imperfect it looked. Her face was pale and coldness radiated off of her in waves as she got closer and closer. Her bony fingers curled over my wrist as she held me in place. As much as I wanted to close my eyes to block out her bloody bleeding eye, I couldn’t out of fear.

“One…” the ghost whispered. Her cold breath against my ear made me shiver. “Three… Seven…”

She pulled back after that and her thin cracked lips curled up into a smile. She disappeared from sight and the door opened. A panicked Dean rushed to where I was on the wall. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” Oh, I hadn’t even realised I was holding my breath. I took in the dusty musty air and choked when it tickled my throat. “Are you okay?” he ran his hands over my arms.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I straightened up. “Y’all found Gavin.” Sam, Gavin, and Kat stood at the doorway with wide eyes. “By the way. The ghost was nice. She wanted to say ‘one three seven’.”

“Room number.” Sam and Dean said in sync.

“Y’all ready to get out of here?” I asked the boy and girl that were clinging onto each other.

“That’s an understatement.” the girl shuddered.

“I’ll take them out of here.” Sam told me and Dean. “You two look for room 137.” he glanced at the lack of space between us. “Everything worked out?”

Dean and I shrugged. “We were both being dumb. Nothing new really.”

I knew Dean cared about me. He wouldn’t intentionally hurt me ever. And he knew I was the same way. Really, it was just us being moody.

“You guys should hurry.” I reminded them.

They nodded and turned heel to leave.

 

Room 137 was interesting to say the least. There were several tools just laying around. There was dried blood all over the walls. This must have been the center of the revolt.

Dean and I looked around the room together. Dean ran his hands over the walls and I felt around the floorboards with my boots. The two of us kept a hand on both our shotguns loaded with rock salt bullets.

“This is why I get paid the big bucks.” Dean said from behind me.

I looked up to see him pulling out a satchel from a wall panel that had fallen off at his touch. We moved to a table and dug around the satchel. Dean pulled out a journal filled with notes and diagrams. Hot diggity damn. That was some serious stuff.

“This guy really tried all that out? On people?” I looked at everything in horror. The guy intentionally destroyed people’s brains to study which part did what. I’d only read about case studies because obviously sticking a rod through someone’s temporal lobe was… I had no words for it. It made no sense. “This dude needs to be jailed up instead of these poor people.”

“You’re telling me.” Dean muttered. He sat down on the chair and started flipping through the pages. “Torture as therapy?”

“Dude’s crazy.” I refused to sit on the crusty table or chair. I chose to lean over Dean’s shoulder instead as we both went through the books.

As we flipped through the pages, we realised that the guy, Elicott, had decided to focus on electroshock therapy. A very specific kind of electroshock therapy, rage therapy. If you could even call that therapy. A thud outside caught both our attention.

“I’ll go look.” I started walking towards the door.

“No, don’t go alone.” Dean walked up beside me. “If this guy’s spirit is out there… then I don’t wanna know what he’s trynna do.”

“What about Sam?” I knew one of the brothers got attacked in this episode.

Dean pressed his lips together in worry. “Let’s hope he’s fine.” But his shoulders were tense with worry. I was worried too. Sammy meant too much to the both of us. “I shouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I quickened my pace to where the sound had come from. “We should hurry.”

We turned a corner, only to narrowly escape being shot. Kat had good aim.  “Damn it, damn it.” Dean grunted when I pressed myself against him to not get hit. “Don’t shoot, it’s us!”

I peeked around the corner where Kat was cringing and apologising profusely. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Son of a…” Dean said as he stood up from the ground. “What are you still doing here?! Where's Sam?”

“He went to the basement. You called him.” Gavin answered. “And we can’t leave. Something is preventing us.”

“Well, that’s awesome. But I didn't call anybody.”

“His cell phone rang. He said it was you.” Gavin insisted.

Oh no. Sammy. Dean’s wide eyes looked at me. “Alright. Watch yourselves… and watch out for me!”

 

“Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!” Dean yelled as we entered the basement.

“Dean.” I grabbed his hand to somehow warn him about Sam.

He suddenly pulled me behind him and raised his shotgun. I gripped my own gun with my finger on the trigger. Was Ellicott here? Dean groaned. “Man, answer me when I'm calling you! You alright?” No, it was Sam. But there was something in his eyes. It wasn’t our Sammy.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Sam smiled. But it felt empty.

“You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here.”

“I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?” Dean looked around cautiously. But the one being we had to look out for wasn’t even on his radar. I tightened my hold on my shotgun. He would be on my radar at least.

“No. How do you know it was him?”

“'Cause we found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a couple of aspirin.”

“But it was the patients who rioted.”

“Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the Same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal… Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em.”

“How? The police never found his body.” Sam pointed out. But he damn well knew where the body was.

“The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself.”

“I don't know, it sounds kinda…”

“Crazy?” I finished and raised my shotgun.

Sam’s demeanor immediately changed. “You can put that thing down, you bitch.”

Excuse me? “I raised you better than that.” I realised he was picking up his own gun. “Put that thing down.”

A drop of blood ran down from Sam’s nose. Dean stared in shock. “What the hell?” he demanded.

“That’s not our Sammy.” I hovered my finger over the trigger. “Try anything and I will shoot.” But we all knew I couldn’t. My aim was already shaky.

“Like what? This?” He snapped his fingers. Nothing happened? Or was something going to fall?

“Sammy? Did he get to you?” Dean demanded.

The wind was knocked out of me when Sam landed a punch right in the center of my chest. I gripped a wall instinctively, trying to regain my footing. The gun had slipped from my hands. Dammit. Sam kicked my weapon away from me and raised his gun at Dean who couldn’t bring himself to point the gun at his brother. Damn family love. I would have shot my brother… No I wouldn’t have. Love made everyone stupid.

“Put the gun down.” Dean ordered.

“Is that an order?”

“Nah, it's more of a friendly request.”

“'Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders.” Sam’s gun was aimed right at Dean’s chest.

“Ellicott did something to you.”

“For once in your life, just shut your mouth.”

Yeah, Sam would never say that.

“What are you gonna do, Sam? Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not you.” Sam turned towards me with a crazed look. “But it’ll hurt her badly enough.”

“Sammy. Don’t you dare. We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal.”

“I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?”

“This isn't you talking, Sam.” I reached into my pocket for the self defense laser things. I aimed it directly at Sam’s eyes and he hissed, squinting against it. “Dean, find the body.” I urged the older Winchester.

He clenched his jaw and nodded.

“Dean!” Sam growled and moved to follow Dean, but I was on it. I swung my leg hard enough into the back of Sam's knees that he went tumbling to the floor. “You bitch!” he snarled.

I stomped on his hands so that he would release the gun and kicked it aside. “Stay down Sam.”

“You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago. Your stupid psychic powers have done nothing !”

Well, he didn’t have to say it like that.

“I saved Jessica.”

Sam faltered at the statement.

“So you can shut up. Alright?” I stepped closer to him, waving my laser around as a threat. “Sit down and be a good kid.”

“I don’t take orders. I’m not pathetic. Like you and Dean.” he heaved.

“Sure kid.” I aimed the laser at him again, but he closed his eyes and tackled me to the ground. “Goddammit!” I slammed my hand against his temple as hard as I could, but dude didn’t even flinch. “You trynna kill me?!” I decided on shoving my foot between his legs instead. RIP Dean Winchester the second.

He let out a howl of pain and released me. The two of us rolled away from each other as we tried to catch our breaths. “Do not cuss at me.” I walked over to his groaning form and grabbed my gun that was loaded with iron bullets. I slammed the back of it into the side of his head. “Sorry Sammy.” I said to his unconscious face.

“Son of a bitch!” I heard Dean yell. He was thrown across the room against a wall. Ellicott stood in front of him, reaching out his hands for Dean. Dammit. “Lighter, Sharon!”

I spotted it right next to the disgusting corpse behind a now broken door. “I DON’T KNOW HOW TO USE A LIGHTER!” Great. My life was great. I reached into my pockets and pulled out a matchbox. I struck the match against the box a couple of times and held up the flame I’d successfully lit. I threw it onto the corpse that had already been doused with gasolene and salt. “Adios sucker.” I said and Ellicott burst into flames.

 

“No more haunted asylums!” Dean reminded the boy and girl as they got in their car. They shakily nodded and drove off.

“Hey, Dean, Sharon?” Sam said quietly.

“I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” I waved off his worries. “You weren’t yourself. Besides, I said goodbye to a few Sammy juniors.”

“What?” Dean looked at me and Sam.

“I kicked him between the legs cause he wouldn’t let go.” I winced at the very thought of it. “Then I knocked him out with the back of my gun. So I’d say we’re even.” I patted the big guy on the back. “You’re fine Sam.”

“Juniors aren’t.” Dean smirked and got into the Impala.

“I didn’t mean it, any of it.” Sam continued apologising either way.

“You didn't, huh?”

“No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?”

“No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.”

I slipped into the backseat and laid down on the leather seats. I closed my eyes and let sleep take over. Sam was back to normal. And we were all good. All good.

Notes:

Since this chapter was so short, HAVE SOME TEA. I do have family lore btw, smth about how my dad's cousin is trynna curse him and tried to curse my mom years ago. Put his and my mom's IDs in the trash or smth. Apparently the local palm reader says that's part of a cursing ritual. He and his wife also told my parents, when I was born, (like literally I was two days old) that I was never gonna get married? I mean they're not wrong so far but that's cause I'm asexual, I think? He's also trynna run away with a woman half his age and divorce his current wife and disown his adult daughter. There's also some things about how he's trynna steal the little money my grandpa left for my grandma, and it's a whole thing in the extended family rn. On the bright side, hot guy is still hot as ever. He wore a blue jacket yesterday KYAAA. And valentine's day is coming up. I wonder if he'll dress up. Not like it matters cause I'll only see him in chem lab and we have to wear lab coats over our clothes so :').

Chapter 17: Scarecrow

Summary:

"Sharon’s warning rang in his head. ‘Stay away from strangers’. “Want one?” He blinked in surprise at the lollipop that was being offered to him. ‘No candy from strangers’. His eyes fell to the woman’s shoes. ‘in white vans’. The woman in front of him was wearing white Vans."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Nothing
It's just super different from the series so yay.

“Dean.” I could hear Sam say. “Wake up.”

I forced an eye open and craned my neck over Dean’s sleeping figure. “Sammy?” I whispered. Dean stirred a little before going back to snoring.

“Phone.” Sam pointed to the phone that was threatening to vibrate onto the floor.

I motioned for him to pick it up. Sam shook his head but put the phone up to his ear. I watched as he went slack jawed. “Dad?”

John? I sat up straight.

“Dad? Are you hurt?”

Dean shifted again as his arms dropped from my waist to my legs.

“We've been looking for you everywhere. We didn't know where you were, if you were okay.”

I nudged Dean a little bit harder, who finally squinted his eyes open.

“We're fine. Dad, where are you?”

Dean shot up at the word ‘Dad’. “Is that Dad?” His arms fell from my side as he desperately shuffled over to where Sam was talking to John on the phone. I crawled to the edge of the bed and listened carefully.

“What? Why not?”

I watched helplessly as the two brothers huddled over the tiny phone.

“You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mom.” Sam continued. “A demon? You know for sure?”

Azazel to be specific.

“A demon? What's he saying?” Dean asked.

“You know where it is?” Sam ignored his brother. “Let us help.”

“John, let us help.” I insisted along with Sam.

“Why not?” Sam retorted to whatever John had said.

“Give me the phone.” Dean demanded.

Sam held up a hand in refusal. “Names? What names, Dad– talk to me, tell me what's going on.”

“Sammy, give me the phone.” I held out my hand.

“No. Alright? No way.” Sam said into the phone.

“Give me the phone.” Dean leaned over to snatch the phone from Sam.

I frowned. “John, don’t be stupid, and let us help!” I yelled. He could definitely hear because the incoherent words from the phone stopped.

“Dad, it's me. Where are you?…Yes, sir… Uh, yeah, I got a pen.” Dean motioned for me and Sam to pass him something to write on. I crossed my arms and huffed. Like hell I was gonna just give it to him. “What are their names?”

“Ask him where he is!” I hissed when Dean found his own pen and own paper. He started scribbling down names, ignoring my and Sam’s pleas.

He hung up a moment later and looked to us with a blank emotionless face that said no arguing.

 

I pulled my bike over when the Impala screeched to a stop. Sam stomped out of the car and started grabbing his bags from the trunk. Whoah, whoah, whoah. Was this the episode where Sam ran away and met Meg on a frigging highway? I took off my helmet and started approaching the boys.

Dean yelled something from inside the car.

“Sam, it’s the middle of the night. It’s hardly safe.” I tried to reason with the boy.

“This selfish bastard is going to California.” Sam spat. “Join me if you want.”

“Sharon, don’t you dare.” Dean had gotten out of the car too. “Sam, get back in the car. You’re not going to California.”

“I can. And I will.” Sam slammed the trunk closed and started walking away.

“Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?” Dean yelled.

But Sam had made up his mind. I was mulling the thought over in my head too. Should I go with Sam? Or stay with Dean? It wasn’t like Sam would even find John. but he would get into trouble with Meg for sure. Unless he had a ride…

“Dean.” I said softly. “If he’s gonna leave then he might as well be safe. Think I can ride in Baby for a while?”

Dean raised his eyebrows with surprise. “You’ll give your bike to him?”

“I would rather have mud on my bike than a brother in the mud. Sam!” I yelled as loudly as I could. I wheeled my bike over to him. He stopped and turned around for a second. “If you’re gonna leave, then at least take her with you.”

“I don’t need it.” he said bitterly. “If you really cared or were worried, you would come with me.”

“Look here, Sam. I do care. But right now. I think I should help out with this job.” I forced him to turn around. “Jessica lives in California, right? You can stay with her while you look for John. But you’re gonna have to get there somehow. And I know nothing I or Dean say will make you stay. So. If you’re gonna leave, I would rather you be safe.” I handed him my keys and presented my beloved bike. “If you get mud on her, then clean her up. And we’re good.”

He looked hesitantly at the keys. “You didn’t put a tracker on her?”

“Dean tried to, but then I put a tracker in Baby and he backed off. She doesn’t have any tracking. I would be long caught by the police if that were true.” I laughed dryly. “Just– stay safe, alright?”

Sam quietly held out a hand and I pressed the keys into his larger palm. “Seriously, stay safe. Don’t trust strangers. No candy from strangers in white vans.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Literally. White vans.” I hoped he would understand. “Seriously, no strangers. I don’t care how innocent they look. Man, woman, puppy, cat, elephant, woman elephant, I don’t care. There’s bad people in the world.”

He sighed and ran his hand through his blond hair. “Fine, I’ll be careful.”

“Good.” I patted his arm and turned to walk back to Dean. “Bye, Sammy.”

“Bye, Sharon.”

He held up a hand as he hopped on my bike and rode off.

“This is stupid.” Dean muttered. But his eyes remained on the road Sam had just driven off on.

“This is better than leaving him alone on the highway at nightfall.” I also watched worriedly. “Did he take cash with him?”

“He always has cash in his bag.” Dean opened the door to Baby and got in. “Come on, let’s get to this place. We have a job to do.”

 

Dean ended up driving all night with the occasional stop at a gas station. I tried to stay awake with him but Black Sabbath on the stereo kept lulling me to sleep. The only times I’d managed to nod awake was when we stopped at the small towns to question the residents about the missing couple. Dean ended up doing all the questioning, doing his best to keep his mind off of the fact that Sam had essentially just run away from home. I dozed off again once Dean got back in the car and turned on the local radio.

“Local forecast indicates…” I could hear Dean’s finger tap away on the steering wheel as he terribly hummed a song off tune. Time for another nap…

The sun was beginning to set and I yawned when Dean’s speed slowed down to get off the highway. His hand slipped off my thigh when he realised I was semi-awake.

“I still don’t like this.” Dean said as we crossed the sign that said ‘Welcome to Burkittsville, Indiana’. “Why would you give him the slip and slide?”

“It’s like telling a kid to not have sex– Whoah!” I gripped the side of the car as Baby involuntarily swerved. Well, that woke me up.

“I don’t wanna talk about Sam’s sex life.” Dean grimaced.

“It’s an analogy! All I’m saying is if you tell a kid to not do something, the kid will do it even more.”

“Yeah, so tell him exactly how to do it.”

“Exactly, so that they’re less likely to make mistakes. Did John ever tell you to not have sex? No, he didn’t. But he taught you the consequences of not wearing condoms and you’re not a dad yet. That’s my point. If Sam’s gonna be on the road all day and all night. I would rather he stay safe.”

“Okay, so, uh. The ‘not a dad yet’ part–” His eyes were wide with alarm. “That’s still an analogy right? Hypothetical?”

I almost blushed at the thought. “Yes, I'm not pregnant.”

“Okay, good to know.” He relaxed slightly. “Sam’s probably gonna be in Sacramento.”

“Oh. How far is that from LA?”

“LA?”

“Jessica lives in LA.”

“And you don’t know how far LA is from Sacramento? Did you fail American Geography? I thought you were one of the nerds.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hate geography. Anyways, how far is it?”

“Maybe five hours. I can make the drive in three.”

“I’ll let Jessica know Sam’s headed her way.” I started typing up a text. “Maybe she can visit him on the weekend when she’s not working.”

“He’s not gonna get there at least until tomorrow.” Dean rested his wrist on the wheel as we pulled into a parking lot. “Wanna get some info?”

“Sure, who are we?”

“John Bonham and Pat Bonham.”

Those names sounded familiar… “Led Zeppelin?”

“The one and only.” Dean grinned. “Newlyweds, by the way. Stay here until I open the door.”

I waited for him to come out the other side and open the door. It was hard to not roll my eyes at the loving gesture. We didn’t do PDA. It was immensely odd for the both of us unless we needed to show others for some reason. Never felt right with Sammy third wheeling between us anyway.

“Scotty Cafe.” I read the sign.

“Let me guess. Scotty.” Dean grinned at an older man sitting outside the cafe.

“Yep.” the old man said, disinterested.

“Hi, my name's John Bonham. This is Patricia.”

“Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin? And his wife?” Scotty looked confused at the two of us.

“Wow. Good. Classic rock fan.” Dean kept a hand on the small of my back. It felt like I was some kind of accessory to Dean. But for once I didn’t mind. I knew next to nothing about rock bands. “She ain’t a Pat though. Patricia goes by Pattie.”

“What can I do for you, John?”

I pulled out two missing posters from my pockets. “Holly and Vince Parker. We were wondering if you’d seen them by any chance?”

“Nope.” Scotty shook his head. Liar. “Who are they?”

“Friends of ours. They went missing about a year ago.” I leaned against Dean as if in pain from the memory.

Dean made a show of rubbing circles into my side as he continued. “They passed through somewhere around here, and we’ve already asked around Scottsburg and Salem–”

“Sorry.” Scotty said. “We don’t get many strangers around here.”

“Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, anybody ever tell you that?” Dean said sarcastically. I tapped the tip of my boot against his. Was he trying to pick a fight? “Never mind. See you around.”

He held me close and we left.

“Where else can we ask?” I looked around. “This place is in the middle of nowhere.”

“You know what we need in the middle of nowhere?” Dean glanced at Baby’s tank meter. “Gas.”

 

“You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?” Dean asked the owners of the gas station.

“Nope, don't remember ‘em.” The man gave back the flyers. “You said they were friends of yours?”

“That’s right.” Dean answered.

“Did the guy have a tattoo?” a young woman asked as she walked towards us.

“Yeah.” I watched as she dropped the boxes behind the counter.

“You remember? They were just married.”

“Oh, you’re right.” the man suddenly remembered. “They did stop for gas. Weren't here more than ten minutes.”

“Do you remember anything else?” I asked.

“I told ‘em how to get back to the Interstate. They left town.” Lies. he told them how to get to their demise. My brother had known this city was a cult since the beginning.

“Could you point us in that same direction?” Dean wrapped his arm around my waist again.

The man nodded and pointed to one of the roads. “Wouldn’t recommend going down that road tonight, though.” the man said. “It’s said to be real foggy today.”

“Oh? Didn’t hear that on today’s weather report.” Dean pointed out. We’d listened to a bit of the local radio. There had been nothing about fog in the weather report.

The man cleared his throat. “It’s a local thing. We can usually tell when the fog is gonna be bad.”

“Awesome.” Dean turned his head to look at me. “I guess we’ll have to spend the night here.”

“My brother owns a motel down the street. You two newlyweds?” The man looked at us.

“Yep.” I made sure to show him the bright silver ring on my finger. “Been about a year and a half… Holly and Vince were at our wedding too.” I dramatically turned to hide my face in Dean’s shoulder. “I can’t believe they’re just gone.” Lies. all lies. I could feel Dean stiffen even as he pretended to rub my arm in comforting motions.

The man made a noise of sympathy. “Well, my brother owns a motel down the road,” said the man. “He usually gives out discounts for couples.” Yeah, so that they could be fed to the orchard scarecrow God thing. “I’ll tell him you guys are coming.”

“Nah, I think we’re good, man. Thanks. But, uh, I think we’re gonna hit a couple more towns.” Dean said and tugged me out of there.

 

Dean and I jumped in surprise when the EMF meter started buzzing off.

“What the hell?” He and I muttered as we both looked at the duffel bag under my feet.

I reached down and rummaged in it for the damn beeping thing. I pulled it out while Dean pulled over to the side. I moved the EMF meter around and we both looked at each other when it got stronger in the direction of the orchard.

“Are we going?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Dean moved to get out of the car.

“You don’t wanna stay in here and catch some sleep?”

He looked exhausted. “Nah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

We went through the creepy chilly orchard, sticking close to each other. The branches of the trees seemed to be reaching out and trying to claw at our skin. And the squishing of the fruits and whatnot below us sounded like the ripping of flesh.

“Dean.” I grabbed Dean’s hand as the thing came into sight.

It was ugly. Big and ugly. Except it wasn’t an ‘it’, it was a human. Specifically Vince.

Dean walked slowly towards the scarecrow. He grabbed a ladder and made his way up so he could get a closer look. I held the ladder steady as it shook in the biting wind.

“Dude, you fugly.”

“Pfft–” The offhand comment had me doubling over. “Really? That’s how you describe him?” It was one of his most iconic lines and I’d just witnessed it. Man, I really loved him.

“Hand me the flyer.” he held out his hand.

“Here,” I passed it to him so he could compare the tattoo on the guy’s arm with the one on the scarecrow.

“Well, what do you know.” Dean muttered and started climbing back down. “It’s the same tat.” he told me.

Bet. “Wanna get that motel room now?”

“Yeah,” We started walking towards the car. “Something's seriously wrong with that town.”

3rd person P.O.V.

Sam didn’t know how Sharon did it. Hours of driving under the sun beating on him. Even if he tilted his head, he couldn’t escape the sun’s relentless rays. He was getting a car for him and Jess. No doubt about it. Jess might like bikes, but like hell he was gonna torture himself with UV rays.

He pulled up at the next gas station. The little bike had a better mileage than Dean’s Impala, but it still barely held the same amount of gas as his brother’s car. He was starting to feel a little cramped on it too, his knees bent almost at an awkward angle. He checked his map and sighed. “Twelve more hours.” He really debated if he could get a motel room to catch some sleep.

“Going somewhere?” a young woman walked up to him. He pressed his lips into a fake smile. Sharon’s warning rang in his head. ‘Stay away from strangers’. “Want one?” He blinked in surprise at the lollipop that was being offered to him. ‘No candy from strangers’. His eyes fell to the woman’s shoes. ‘in white vans’. The woman in front of him was wearing white Vans.

The smile fell from his face. “No thanks.” he said curtly. He would trust Sharon this time. Last time he didn’t, he’d almost gotten Jess killed.

“Not hungry?” the woman laughed.

“Not really.” he glanced at the number of gallons he’d gotten. Had gas pumps always been this slow?

“My name is Meg.” she held out a hand. “Meg Masters.”

“Nice to meet you, Meg.” he saw no reason to give her his name. He held back a sigh of relief when the pump finally stopped.

“What’s your name?”

Dammit. Sam put on his helmet and got back on. “Sorry, I have to go. Kind of in a hurry.” he had to catch Dad too.

Before the woman behind him could open her mouth, he was gone.

“Dammit!” Meg shrieked as she kicked the gas pump. She walked over to a pickup truck and forced the door open. A corpse tumbled out the passenger side, his throat still bleeding from the deep gash in it. “Ugh, I have to find another one!” Her eyes landed on the store clerk staring horrified at her through the gas station windows. “Bingo.” Her eyes flashed black.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“You’re back.” the young woman from the other day said with a smile when we pulled back into the gas station.

“Never left.” Dean flashed her a polite smile. We got out of Baby and I found a spot on her hood. I swung my feet in an effort to stretch them while Dean unlocked her tank cover.

“Still looking for your friends today?” Emily asked sweetly.

I nodded. “Barely got any sleep last night.”

“You mind fillin' her up there…” Dean’s eyes traveled down to Emily’s collarbone. “Emily?” My skin bristled at the way her cheeks tinted pink. But it wasn’t like she could help her reaction. I turned pink every time Dean looked at me too.

She grabbed the pump and pushed the nozzle into Baby.

“So, you grew up here?” Dean was already in information gathering mode.

I took a deep breath to compose myself and really paid attention. My memory told me that she was innocent in all of this ritual sacrifice thing. But things hadn’t always gone the way I’d remembered them going. I needed to be alert.

“I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in.” she jerked her head to where the old lady and man from yesterday flitted about the store.

“They're nice people.” I chimed. No they weren’t. They sucked.

“Everybody's nice here.” Emily’s smile was so innocent when she agreed with my statement.

“So, what, it's the, uh, perfect little town?” Dean gestured to the town as a whole.

“Well, you know, it's the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it's almost like we're blessed.” Oh Emily you have no idea.

“Hey, you been out to the orchard? You seen that scarecrow?” came Dean’s billion dollar question.

“Yeah, it creeps me out.” she shuddered dramatically.

Dean let out a small laugh. I pushed down the bout of jealousy that rolled over me in waves.

“Whose is it?” he asked.

“I don't know. It's just always been there.”

“Huh,” Dean walked over to where I was sitting and leaned against the car.

“Hey, Emily.” the man from the store walked out.

“Hey!” she chirped in response. “Oh, I’m done filling her up by the way.” She pulled the nozzle out and put it away.

“Thanks.” Dean said as he pushed off from the car.

I hopped off, only to be stopped by the older man. “She a 67 Chevy?”

“Yeah, got her from my Dad.” Dean said proudly.

“You guys drive her a lot?”

Oh, this guy was testing to see if we were gullible enough to let him tamper with her. I responded before Dean could. “Nah. We just got her recently. His dad bought a new truck. So he gave this one to us.” Better us than the other innocent couple that was going to get dragged into this. “She’s a bit rattly though.”

The rattle was just the legos Dean had pushed into the vents as a kid.

The old man looked almost happy. “Is she now?”

“Slight little rattle.” Dean fixed me with a confused stare. “She’s fine.”

I nudged his boot with mine. “I’m a little worried. She is pretty old.”

“Well, why don’t I take a look at it?” the man offered. “You’re more than welcome to leave her in the garage.” He motioned towards the empty open garage. “I used to be a mechanic. I can fix her up in a night.”

“Can you now?” Dean was starting to get riled up.

I placed a hand on his arm. “Sweetie, let the nice man help us out. We don’t want her to break down halfway through our search. Then our families will be searching for four missing people and not just two.”

“She’s right, young man. Just leave her to me.”

Dean reluctantly left Baby with the man.

 

“If anything goes wrong with her, I swear I’ll-” He racked his brain for an answer. “I’ll put a spider in your bag.”

“This is for the greater good.” I told him. “And you put a spider in my bag and I’ll have a bullet in your head.”

He scoffed and opened the door to the motel room. “I’m taking the shower first.”

I rolled my eyes and did my preliminary sweep for any hidden cameras, and I had no doubt Dean was doing the same in the bathroom. Once we were both dressed in our night clothes, we collapsed on the bed. I glanced at the window and groaned. I’d forgotten to salt the doors and windows. “You go to sleep.” I told him. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Sure,” he hummed and rolled over, getting comfortable. I dimmed the lights as much as possible without throwing myself into total darkness.

It took Dean only a couple of minutes to fall asleep. He really was exhausted. I couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful he looked. I brushed my hand through his hair. His dirty blonde hair was so soft. I placed a kiss on his forehead. I made sure the gun was in reach so I could protect him while he slept.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Sam’s number. It took a couple of persistent ringing until he finally picked up. “Sammy?”

“Hey,” He sounded exhausted.

“Where are you?”

“Just outside of Sacramento.”

… had he even slept? “Have you slept at all?”

“A bit.” Maybe three hours judging by his tone.

I held back a sigh. “Are you anywhere you can sleep?”

“I only have an hour left.”

“Sam, if you don’t take care of yourself, then how will–”

“Is that all you called me for? To yell at me?”

I frowned. “I’m not yelling at you. I’m worried.”

“And you don’t have to be.”

He hung up abruptly. I stared at my phone in disbelief. What the hell? Seriously? I worry about him and he just hangs up?

“Was that Sammy?” I glanced to my side to see a sleepy Dean looking up at me. His voice was gruff with sleep and tiredness and his speech was slurred.

“Yeah. He’s mad.” I tossed my phone onto the sofa. “Go to sleep.”

“I was but then you started talkin’.”

“Sorry,”

“It’s fine.” he looped an arm around my waist and pulled me down. “Goodnight.” he was snoring again.

“Goodnight.” I whispered against his chest.

 

“You guys have a leaking brake line.” the man at the gas station said when we went to pick Baby back up.

“Oh yeah?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

I kept a hand on his arm to keep him calm. “How long to fix it?”

“We can have it done by the end of the day.” the man nodded grimly at Baby. “Around sundown maybe.”

I could feel Dean’s muscles tensing. “Thanks. We’ll just hang out in town till then.” I pulled Dean along with me.

“What the hell?” he hissed once we were out of earshot. “It doesn’t take twelve hours to fix a brake line!”

“And that doesn’t strike you as strange?” I frowned at him.

He ran a hand down his face. “Fine, but if anything happens to Baby, I–”

“You’ll put spiders in my bag, I know. But you can always fix her back up. Can’t you? You’re good with cars, right?”

He huffed in resignation. “Damn right.”

 

“Says they have pie.” Dean and I walked up to Scotty’s Cafe once more. “Hey Scotty!” Dean greeted the man. “We’ll take two coffees, black. Five spoons of sugar in one. And some breakfast pancakes. And that apple pie.”

Scotty jotted them down quickly and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Can we sit near the window?” I asked.

“‘Course.”

Another couple walked in just as we got settled.

“Hey,” Dean raised a hand politely when the man nodded at us. “Just passin’ through?”

“Yeah,” the man answered. “You guys?”

“Also passing through.” I smiled. I wondered if the couple had still been targeted. I decided to test it. “Our brake lines are leaking apparently. The guy at the gas station told us. So we’re stuck here till sundown.”

“Oh yeah the guy was pretty nice.” the man said, sipping his coffee.

But the woman frowned. “Would it be safe to travel that late?”

“Better than getting stuck on the road with a broken car.”

“I’m not liking it too much either.” I could feel Dean side eyeing me.

I shrugged. Better us who could defend themselves than the harmless defenseless couple next to us.

We ended up making small talk with the couple. Until it was time for the pie. “On the house.” Scotty said as he put the pie on the table. “For being the first customers of the day.” he said when the other couple glanced at him weirdly.

Huh. I hated apple pie. I hated pie in general.

“Awesome,” Dean was already digging into the huge thing. “Fresh outta the oven too… mm…”

I could feel Scotty’s eyes on me as I poked around my apple pie. They needed me to eat the thing as a sort of last meal didn’t they.

“You’re not gonna eat that, right?” Dean was already motioning for me to pass him my slice.

“I’ll try it.” I hesitantly took a bite. The filling was too sweet for my taste. Ugh. I forcefully swallowed it. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Scotty retreating back into the kitchen. Good. “You can have the rest. This is nasty.”

“Your loss.” Dean said through a mouthful of food.

“Swallow before you talk.”

 

Baby was fixed by the time the Sun set. Jessica had called me to tell me that Sam was doing fine. And Dean seemed to relax at the news. He was still upset about having to leave Baby at the sketchy garage though.

“Dammit!” Dean slammed the dashboard when Baby’s engine sputtered to a stop. “I knew they were doing something to her! Brake lines don’t need twelve hours to be fixed. I could have had her done in less than an hour!” he angrily left the car to check.

We were right next to the orchard. I picked up the shotgun at my feet and kept it cocked, ready to shoot the second the scarecrow appeared. Dean had ducked under Baby’s hood, doing his little mechanic work.

“Those bastards tore off her…” he rambled something I didn’t quite understand. I never understood all the different kinds of wrenches and screws that he used to bang around and magically fix all kinds of cars. Not my thing. But what I could do was look for that stupid ugly scarecrow, and shoot it.

Suddenly, there it was. Looming over the orchard trees and staring directly at us. “Did you fix her?”

“Hang on, this wiring over here…”

I shot at the thing when it moved closer. Damn it. Ugly scarecrow thing. My heart was pounding and the adrenaline was giving me tunnel vision. I emptied a whole magazine into the thing. And it slowed down as if tired.

“Got it.” Dean slammed Baby’s hood shut. “Go, go, go!” he said as we both got in.

He twisted the ignition and then slammed on the accelerator. The car shot forwards, sending me almost face first into the dashboard, but it was fine. I was fine. The scarecrow wasn’t following us. We were out of the orchard lands too. We were fine. We were safe.

 

We got a motel room in a different city instead. Much further away from the town we were in. There was even a small college here.

I sat next to Dean as he talked to Sam on the phone. Dean’s hands were playing with my hair, twisting and tugging gently. It felt nice, almost like a massage. I closed my eyes and let myself sink into his warmth. His voice grew softer when he realised and I felt him pull me closer against his chest.

“Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun Town… No, it's more than a spirit. It's a god. A Pagan god, anyway… The annual cycle of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. Like some kind of fertility right. And you should see the locals. The way they treated us. Fattenin' us up like a Christmas turkey.” His hand tightened slightly around my waist. “…Yeah, I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god… And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and disease won't spread… No, not yet… I know. We’re gonna hit the local library tomorrow. It’s closed right now… ‘cause Sharon’s sleeping, obviously…”

I wanted to say I was awake, but the exhaustion was catching up with me. Worrying for Sam took a lot of energy. And I wasn’t going to let Dean be the only one to stay awake when I could be awake with him and keep him company. I’d only been getting fifteen minute power naps in the Impala anyway.

“I'm not hinting anything. Actually, uh– I want you to know… I mean, don't think…”

He must have been apologising. So the brothers were fine. Good.

“Sam. You were right. You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life… You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I—anyway….I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy… Yeah, I’ll tell her… Say you'll take care of yourself… Call me when you find Dad.”

He put the phone back down. “Sammy’s fine.”

“Mm,” I hummed.

“He said sorry for getting mad.”

I hummed one more time, finally dozing off.

 

Third Person P.O.V.

Sam was starting to grow concerned. The blonde haired woman named Meg refused to leave him alone. And a strange feeling coiled in his stomach every time he spotted her from the side mirrors of his bike. As he entered a town, he did the four right turns trick Sharon had taught him. If you made a full circle and the person was still behind you, then they were following you. And Meg was most definitely following him.

He dialed Jess’ number and held it up to his ear. “Hey, Jess.”

“Hey, Sam.” Her voice felt like Heaven to him. “I'm coming down to Sacramento tomorrow. What time should we–”

“We can’t.” He internally winced at the sharpness of his own voice. “Sorry, but someone’s following me. And I’m not risking your safety.” He wanted to call Dean to figure things out too.

“Can I at least call you occasionally? To make sure you’re okay?”

He found himself falling in love all over again. Unlike his annoying brother and sister, she let him do whatever he wanted. “Yeah, of course. I’ll probably call from a payphone from now on though. So I can’t be traced.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later. I love you,”

“I love you too, Jess.”

He pulled up to a bar, pretending to park. Meg started to pull in too, but her truck was huge. It would take her a while to do anything with it.

He watched her carefully pull into a parking spot. He set his jaw tight and backed himself out of the parking spot with a jerk. He spun the throttle to the max. With a screech of the tires and a roar of the bike’s engine, he shot off into the night, leaving a dumbfounded Meg behind.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“This one,” I dumped a thick book on the table. ‘A Local History Guide to the Gods and Demons of Burkittsville’.

“That’s a huge title.”

“Wait till 2020.” I opened up the book and started reading.

Dean pored over the missing persons reports from the past few years. “Look for ones relating to Orchards.”

“Like this?” I spun the book around to him.

“Vanir,” Dean read the name. It sounded foreign on his tongue. “The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female.” He pointed to a depiction of the God. “Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?”

I nodded.

“This particular Vanir that's energy sprung from the sacred tree? So if we torched the sacred tree, you think it’d kill the God?”

Yes. I wanted to say, but I couldn't. Not just because of the stupid Angel and his spell, but because something knocked me into total darkness.

 

When I woke up, the first thing I felt was the throbbing in the back of my head. What the hell? The last thing I’d remembered was Dean’s eyes growing wide with alarm, and something knocking me out. We’d been at the library, researching… the townsfolk. They must have been in cahoots with the librarian. Dammit. I should have known.

Dean. Where was Dean?

There was a pinhole of light shining through the doors keeping us trapped, but not enough light down here to make out anything. I ran my hands over my jumpsuit. I breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the familiar lump of my pen flashlight on one of the inside seams. The people hadn’t been smart enough for this huh. I quickly tugged at the threads around it.

“Dammit!” the thing rolled away from my cold hands.

“Got it,” I heard Dean say.

“Dean?”

“Yeah,” I could tell from his voice that he was in pain. But it was fine. He was alive. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Hurts like a son of a bitch though.” The click of a switch and we were blessed with a narrow stream of light. “We need to get out of here.”

“No kidding.”

“There’s a ladder.” Dean flashed the light around.

“This place is empty.” Nothing that we could use for leverage. “Think you can bust us out?”

“Let’s try.” he climbed up the ladder and started slamming against the wooden doors blocking the entrance above. “Dammit. It’s barricaded from the outside.”

“They took our weapons too.” I couldn’t feel anything on me. Not even the weapons I usually had strapped onto my thighs. “Can we pick the lock?”

Dean looked at me like I was an idiot. “The door’s locked and barricaded from the outside. There is no lock to pick.”

I blamed my head injury for my stupidity. “Okay so what do we do?”

“Hope Sammy is worried enough to come save us.”

“It’s a two day drive.” I grimaced. “Even if he drives all night, I don’t think he’s making it before we get fed.”

Was this how we died? Was this what I got for trying to change the course of the story? All I wanted was a happy ending for the brothers.

“Can you do something with your powers?” Dean suddenly asked.

Oh yeah. But I couldn’t. I needed to be able to see what I was moving. And if the doors were barricaded then I doubted I even had enough strength to move it. “I can try. I guess. But no guarantees.”

I crawled up the ladder next to him and placed my hands on the wooden doors. How was I gonna go about this… I focused on the pinhole of light. I had to make it wider. Wider. More light. Move the damn thing blocking the light.

My head pounded as I felt the tingling sensation I was starting to get used to. My whole body felt like it was vibrating. But it had never vibrated this bad. Something fell outside, and soon I was falling too.

“Easy, easy,”

I felt a strong hand on my back holding me up. 

“Just breathe.”

But the world was spinning. I needed to focus on something. The silver of Dean’s ring flashed in the thin stream of light. That was good enough. I gripped his hand tightly to keep it in place.

“Breathe, sweetheart. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two…”

With him guiding me through steady breaths and his arms keeping me steady, I could feel my head clear of the throbbing.

“Good. Good.” He was almost cooing in my ear. He swiped his hand under my nose and I realised it was bloody. More bloody than usual. “I think I can break through it now.” He kissed my temple. “Can you stand on your own?”

“Yeah.” My voice was shaky. I tried again. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” That was better. I held onto the rungs of the ladder for support while Dean got to work. Slamming and pushing on the doors that kept us from escaping. It took a hot minute. But it wasn’t too long. 

The two of us hissed when the light hit our eyes. Man, it was bright. But the sun was beginning to. We clambered up the ladder and out into freedom. My legs felt wobbly as I stumbled after Dean. We’d only made it a few feet away from the underground cellar thing where we were trapped when we heard people shouting

“Dammit. They escaped!” “I told you we should have tied them up.” “Search for them. They couldn’t have gotten far.”

Dean grabbed my hand and started sprinting. “Come on, we gotta get out of here.”

We ran through the trees. I forced my legs to move faster even as they protested. They hurt. A lot. I was out of breath and I was starting to get dizzy again from the workout. I really wasn’t cut out for this kind of work, was I?

I almost collapsed when we finally stopped in front of the road. I sank down to the asphalt and took in deep breaths. Man that sucked.

“We gotta get back in town.” Dean was already tugging me up. “We don’t have time to rest. If we don’t burn that thing, we’re gonna be pagan god food.”

I held onto his arm as we made our way down the road, hiding behind the tall bushes and trees that lined the sides. A car’s headlights suddenly shone from behind us. Hopefully it was just a passerby who didn’t care.

“Hey!”

Someone yelled. The two of us froze. Dean was pulling me behind him and I clung onto his jacket, trying to prepare myself for a fight if we had to.

“It’s Emily.” Dean whispered to me.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” She said from her little car. Her voice was hoarse, as though she’d been crying. “I know what my uncle and aunt tried to do. I’m so sorry!”

“Yeah? Well sorry ain’t gonna cut it.” Dean shot back.

“Please let me help.” Emily begged. “I didn’t know they were sending all those couples to- to—” Her breathing was shaky. She wasn’t faking the tears. “Please. I just wanna set things right.”

Dean glanced over his shoulder at me to determine if we could trust her. But did we really have an option to not trust her? The God was definitely gonna come after us if we stayed amongst the trees for any longer. I gave him a firm nod. Emily had been good in the tv show. I was willing to give her a chance.

“Fine.” Dean responded. “But try anything and we’re not gonna be so nice.”

“Okay,”

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

Sam was starting to get worried. He’d called both Sharon’s and Dean’s phones several  times, but no one was picking up. This wasn’t like them. He’d finally managed to shake off the woman that had been following him. But was he willing to leave Sacramento when he was so close to finding Dad? He’d even found the motel room he had been staying in, and tracked the phone booth. He was currently on his way to ask around at the nearby bar, but the silence from his brother and sister was starting to drive him nuts. So he did the only thing that calmed him down.

“Hey, Jess.”

She picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey Sam.” She sounded like she was busy. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t deserve her. She was always there for him. In ways that Dean and Sharon never were. They all cared for him, yes, but his siblings had difficulty expressing their feelings. How they’d even ended up marrying had him stumped. “Yeah, everything’s fine. That woman’s not following me anymore.” speaking of which. What had even Meg wanted from him? But he had other priorities right now. “Can you call Dean or Sharon every hour or so and let me know when they reply?”

“Of course, I can do that, but why? Is everything okay?”

Sam chewed on his lips nervously. “They’re not picking up.”

“Maybe they have their phone turned off?”

“No, that isn’t like them.” He sighed. “They were working a case. I’m just worried. But maybe you’re right. Maybe they’re fighting off the God right now.”

“I’ll keep calling them to make sure. Did you find your dad?”

“No, not yet.”

“Okay, well I gotta go. Good luck, Sam. And don’t worry about Sharon and Dean. They’re tough, I’m sure they’re okay. But I’ll call them.”

“Thanks, Jess.”

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“We need to burn the tree.” Dean said as he looked around the gas station store.

“We have lighter fluid in the back.” Emily shuffled around.

“Matchsticks?” I asked.

“Behind the counter. We have lighters too.”

I hopped over the counter to grab them.

“Any idea where Baby is?” Dean asked Emily.

“Baby?” Emily looked confused.

“His car.” I explained.

“She's in the garage. They were gonna use her for spare parts.”

Dean looked like he was gonna murder someone. “And the keys?”

“Here.” I found them hanging on one of the hooks. I tossed it to him and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Let's go Baby.” He ran out the door towards the garage.

“He really liked that car.” Emily mused.

“Oh you bet.” Sometimes I wondered if he loved the car more than me.

“Listen- about Uncle Harley and Aunt Stacy- I really had no idea.”

“I believe you.” I helped her get the jug of flammable liquid outside. The matchbox was tucked neatly against my pockets, and I kept a lighter on hand too. Just in case.

Baby pulled up in front of the store and I almost cried in joy. Dean was in the driver’s seat. Things were starting to feel like they were gonna go right.

“Oh no. That’s uncle Harley’s car.” Emily started to panic.

“What’re you doing? Get in!” Dean motioned for us to get inside. Emily scrambled into the backseat and I joined Dean in the front. “Let’s kill that son of a bitch.” He floored the pedal to the metal and we shot onto the road. “Oh yeah, Baby.” He happily patted her dashboard.

I smiled at his excitement. It didn’t take a lot to make Dean happy, did it?

Something buzzed in the glove box. Our phones. Sammy. He must be calling out of worry. I fumbled for the one phone that was ringing amongst the several others and pulled it out. It was Sammy’s number. And several voicemails and missed calls from both him and Jessica.

“Hey,” I said into the phone.

“Sharon?”

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy.”

“Thank God.” He sounded relieved. “Are you okay? Is Dean with you?”

“Yeah. He's here.” I held the phone upto his ear.

“We’re on our way to kill a God!” Dean said with a grin.

I caught Emily trembling through the rear view mirror. “We’re gonna kill a God.” She whispered in disbelief.

I brought the phone back to my ear. “You two gonna be okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah we’re gonna be fine.” I told him. “And by the way. Your apology. I, uh, me too.”

Sam chuckled on the other side. “Thanks. I get it. It’s fine. All families argue, right?”

“Right.”

“And I have two older siblings that don’t know how to apologise.” He snickered.

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see. “Hush child.”

Sam laughed on the other side. “Yeah, I’ll be careful. You two too. Call me once you’re done with the case.”

“Of course. You too. Don’t forget to call if you find John.” I hung up and shot a quick message to Jessica, thanking her for worrying, but that we were fine.

“Ready?” Dean said we came to a stop. The EMF reader started beeping almost immediately.

“What’s that noise?” Emily asked shakily.

“EMF.” I showed her the device. “Mr. Scarecrow must be acting up.”

Dean tossed me my bag from the trunk. “Load up. Vanir the tree God might try to eat us.”

“I’d like him to try.” I cocked my gun.

“Now we find the tree.” Dean paused when he realised we were in a frigging orchard. “Maybe you can help us with that. It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred.”

Emily pressed her lips together as she tried to remember. “There was this one apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”

“And it’s here somewhere, right?” Dean looked at her expectantly.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s their car!” We heard yells in the distance.

“Looks like we better shag ass.” Dean gestured for Emily to lead the way. “Take us there!”

She nodded weakly and we raced. Only to be faced with the scarecrow. I took aim and shot. It disappeared.

“Go, go, go!” I pushed Emily who had frozen in fear.

“Is it that?!” Dean yelled from the front.

In front of us was a thick spindly tree with razor sharp branches. It was old and decaying and smelled of rot. Ew. That better not be the tree where the apples for the apple pie were plucked from.

Emily walked up closer to it and nodded. “It’s this one.”

“Light it up people.” I chimed as the scarecrow appeared in front of us again. I took a shot at it. But it didn’t disappear this time.

I could hear the lighter fluid being splashed onto the tree. And then a loud grunt as something, no, someone, Dean, was thrown somewhere. Emily gave a high pitched shriek when the scarecrow locked onto me next. It pulled out an ugly nasty sickle. Ew. What the hell.

“Emily! Light it!” I tossed the lighter from my pocket to her.

She yelped as she struggled to keep a hold of it. I wanted to smack her when the lighter slipped from her hands to the muddy ground. Useless.

Dammit. I was gonna have to use my powers again. I doubted they would work on the creepy scarecrow God. But it was worth a try. I held out a hand in his direction and imagined the sickle being thrown from his hand.

My fingers tingled and the headache started. And the sickle was wrenched from the scarecrow’s hands and flung somewhere. I didn’t really care to find out. Because the thing was angrily stomping in my direction.

“Lighter, lighter, lighter…” I could hear Emily frantically looking for the lighter.

“Here!” Dean yelled. “Catch!”

There was a click and then a flicker. And then a fire erupted. The tree had burst into flames. A bright flame in the terribly dark night sky that soon filled with black smoke. The scarecrow gave an inhumane howl as it disintegrated into a bunch of embers.

“NOOO!” a bunch of people screamed in the distance. I could hear the rapid movement of feet as they crunched the grass and leaves under them.

We had to go. The people would kill us otherwise. Surely. The three of us took off. We dodged trees and bushes and piles of squishy rotting apples at our feet. Emily was sobbing as she tried to keep up with me and Dean. Before long, we were back in Baby and Dean was backing out of our hidden parking spot.

“Oh my god.” She gasped when she saw my face. “You okay? There's so much blood.”

“Happens.” I gratefully accepted the napkin she offered me. I dabbed it on my upper lips and cringed at the amount of blood. That really took a lot out of me. “So what’re you gonna do now?” I asked her. “The community isn’t gonna take you back after this.”

“If they even survive.” Dean pointed out. “The tree and the scarecrow gave them richness and prosperity compared to the other towns.”

“But the other towns were in on it.” I sighed. “This is crazy.”

“You’re fine with the town dying?” Dean looked over his shoulder to look at Emily.

“Good.” She said through sniffles. “After all the people they’ve killed for…” she shuddered. “I don’t think I can go back even if they take me back.”

 

It took us all night to get out of town and drop Emily off at a town that looked like it flourished even without an annual sacrifice of humans to a God that lived in a scarecrow with a sickle. She boarded the bus to Boston and gave us a watery smile through the windows. ‘Thank you’ she mouthed. Dean and I waved in response.

The bus took off a minute later and we stared after it. “What about the town now?” I asked. “They’re just not gonna be arrested? They did kill a bunch of people.

“What’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough.”

“And Sammy? Jessica said he was being followed. But apparently he’s shaken them off. She’s supposed to be meeting him today. But she’s willing to help us convince him to come back to us.”

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. “He should do what he wants. If he finds Dad then amazing. If he doesn’t… I dunno. I'll support his choice regardless.”

“Look at you being supportive.” I teased.

He scoffed. “It’s not like he'll listen to any of us. Like you said. All we can do is make sure he's safe. Even when he’s away.”

Notes:

Goddamn, this chapter turned out way more different than I'd expected. I tried out a different format. A few third person P.O.V.s from Sammy's perspective just cause what he's doing is so much different than what happened in the series. Anyways, I have exams all week, so either there'll be amazing frequent chapters all week or none at all. I tried to write smut. I really did. This was the perfect chapter for heated stuff and I even had an outline for how it was gonna go, but I couldn't physically write or type it past the undressing stage. Maybe cause it's uncomfortable for me and I honestly don't know how it's supposed to go. (I did pay attention in sex ed and ik what it is, but idk the feelings involved). HOT GUY APPEARED IN MY DREAMS THO. He said "we have all the same classes together, right?" and i said "yeah, but i don't think i introduced myself," and then we shook hands cause idk why, and then HE ASKED FOR MY NUMBER. In my dreams. Literally. Then I had to wake up for work D:

Chapter 18: Faith

Summary:

"“She always wanted to play house, Sam. I was the only thing tying her down. This way, she can be free.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Suicide (a lot of it. Please call the helplines available if you need help)
2. Rape (implied towards the end)
3. Drugging (like date rape)
4. Stalking
If anyone thinks something else should be included in the trigger warnings please let me know. This chapter is pretty heavy emotionally.

How Dean and I ended up becoming a monster hunting duo from a monster hunting trio with Sam was beyond me. We worked great together. Both of us shared one brain cell, but that came with its own problems. We had only one brain cell between the two of us and 75% of it came from me. However, it was his 25% that kept us alive. Did that make sense? At least with Sam in between us we had two complete brain cells.

This wasn’t going according to the TV series at all. Sam wasn’t back to us. He was with Jessica. And I’d found out that Sam had decided to stay with Jessica at her apartment as a base for finding John. ‘It’s highly likely Dad’s still in Cali,’ Sam had told me over the phone. ‘So I’m gonna stay with Jess for a bit. See what I can find.’

Dean and I had just nodded along and wished him luck. I remembered hearing Dean whisper to Jessica to report to him anything that Sam did. His concern for his brother was truly endearing. But just because he was concerned for his brother didn’t mean he stopped loving me any less. He would always remain protectively close to me during a case and shower my newly formed wounds and scars with a million kisses.

The latest case we’d picked up involved the kidnapping of children. And it was being done by a Tulpa. Through a few conversations with the locals, we’d learned that the Tulpa was supposedly weak to electricity.

“Let’s kill this son of a bitch before someone changes the story.”

“Right on.” I prepped my own weapons. “You got the tasers?”

“Amped up to a hundred thousand volts.” He passed me mine.

I frowned at the thing in my hands. This was starting to give me more Deja vu than normal. “Ain’t that a little too much of an overkill?”

“Yeah, I want this raw head extra frickin’ crispy. And remember, you only get one shot with these things. So make it count.” The Deja vu was definitely hitting me. But was this one of the episodes? If so, which one? I couldn’t remember a single case with electricity and Tulpa. I pushed down the nagging sensation in my head. We would be fine. We always were. Plot armor and all that.

“Aight, bet.”

We slowly walked into the abandoned house where the Tulpa supposedly kept kids locked in.

I balanced my hand holding the handgun on the wrist of the other one that held my flashlight.

Dean motioned for me to take the left hallway when we came to a split. I nodded.

“Be careful, sweetheart.” He reminded me ever so softly.

I pushed down the blush that was beginning to spread on my cheeks. We had a job here. I heard a creak of the floorboards. Was it the Tulpa? I braced myself and listened more intently for the noises. I whipped around to the cupboard right beside me. Was it in there?

I slowly reached out and snatched the door open. Three terrified children looked up at me.

“Hey,” I whispered. “I’m here to get you out of here. Is the thing still here?”

They nodded in fear. “Alright.” I handed the eldest boy a spare flashlight and started tugging them out of the cupboard.

They clung onto each other’s hands even as they cowered against each other. “Keep holding onto each other okay?” The girl suddenly grabbed my hand and motioned to the third child. I looked down to the youngest one that hadn’t stood up. His ankle was twisted the wrong way. Damn. It looked broken. “I’m gonna carry you, alright?” I put my gun away. Getting the kids out of here was first priority, not killing the Tulpa.

I couldn’t help but grimace as I lifted the boy up. He may have been the youngest, but he was a large five years old. My arms protested as I carried him all the way to the entrance.

A shrill monstrous shriek had the kids screaming. “Go, go!” I shoved the kids in front of me to go faster. “Out the door!”

“But-” the older boy reached out for his younger brother.

“We’ll be out. Just go!” I sped up after them. “AGH!” I was suddenly dragged to the floor by the creature. I kicked and screamed at it, but it wouldn’t budge. The boy in my arms had started crying already. “Dean!” I yelled.

I heard the taser being fired, and the monster let go of my foot from shock. I forced myself back on my feet and held the boy tighter against myself. “Let’s go.” I told the kid, and we ran outside. “Listen up.” I told the three kids huddled outside the dilapidated house. “Get to the car. And wait.” I grabbed my taser in my pocket. “I’m gonna go back, beat that thing, and then we’re gonna get that ankle of yours checked out. Alright?”

The kids nodded. The brother and sister shakily helped their youngest sibling hobble along the dirt path towards Baby. I turned back around to face the house. I had a monster to kill.

I hurried into the house with my taser lifted up, ready to shoot. If we only got one try with each then we would have to come back tomorrow in case I missed.

“Dean?” I called. There was no sign of neither the monster nor my husband. “Dean!” I said a little more loudly.

A noise that sounded like a gunshot came from the basement of the house. I immediately went for the door to the basement and ran down the stairs. There they were. The monster was looming over Dean with its mouth open.

“Sharon, shoot!” He yelled even as he flailed in a puddle of water.

“You’re in water, Dean!” I shot the Tulpa with my gun. It flinched but refused to let go of Dean.

“Dammit, I won’t be anywhere if you don’t kill this thing!”

He was right. So even against my better judgement, I shot the creature. The taser zapped the creature, but it also zapped the man I called my husband with a 100,000 volts.

My heart sank in my stomach when Dean’s body shook along with the monster’s and went limp.

“Dean…?” I whispered. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I hadn’t just killed my husband. There was no way he was dead. I ran to his side and knelt beside him, not caring if I got muddy moldy water on my favorite pair of jeans. I felt his pulse, it was weak. But I didn’t need to do CPR, not yet at least. “Dean. Wake up.” I tapped his cheek as much force as I could muster with my shaking hands. No way he was dead. “Come on, Dean.” He had to wake up. It wasn’t his time to die. “Dean! Dean!!!”

 

Carrying Dean up the basement stairs and into the car along with three terrified crying children had been a challenge. But it wasn’t even the fact that his whole body weight was on mine or that the kids had been shrieking in my ears, rightfully so with what they’d seen, as I drove the Impala into the emergency room of a nearby hospital. It was the fact that Dean’s pulse kept getting weaker and weaker every time I checked.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to ask.” I looked up at the receptionist. “There doesn’t seem to be any insurance on file.”

“Right. Right.” I fished out my lavender wallet from my pocket. It felt wrong to have something so brightly colored in a hospital when someone close to me was practically in cardiac arrest. I pulled out a card and slid it over to the lady.

“Okay… Mrs. Gale.” She said sweetly with a smile.

My mood was quite the opposite. Dean could be dead, and it would be my fault. I’d pulled the trigger on that taser. I’d known it was 100k volts. I’d known it was deadly to a human. And I’d still shot it.

“Officers.” I greeted the two cops that had shown up once I’d informed the nurses that the three kids were not, in fact, mine and Dean’s children.

“Look, we can finish this up later.” They said gently.

“No, it’s fine. The faster I get this over with, right?” I tried to smile.

The officers gave me sympathetic looks before continuing. “You said you were in the neighborhood?”

“Uh, yes. Yes. My husband and I were driving through the neighborhood to cut across town. Then we heard screams from the house, children’s screams, and we stopped.”

“And you found the kids in a closet?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Some closet in the hallway.” It was actually a cupboard, but whatever. I was too tired, too worried to argue semantics with the police.

“Well, thank God you did.”

I nodded. I spotted a doctor leaving Dean’s room. His coat read his name and then cardiologist under it. “Doctor.” I stopped the man in his tracks. “Sorry, excuse me.” I bowed to the police officers who nodded in thank you and left. “Doctor, how is he?”

The man’s face was blank. “He’s resting.”

“And?” I was his wife. I had a right to know.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack.” The doctor explained. “Pretty massive. I’m afraid his heart… it’s damaged.”

No way. It couldn’t be. “It’s-” ‘not time for him to die yet’ remained stuck in my throat.

“Ma’am. I’m sorry, but we’ve done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But I’d give him a couple weeks—”

“No.” He wasn’t dying. Not so soon.

“Ma’am please.” The doctor said calmly. “At most, maybe a month.”

“Heart transplant.” I told him. “He’s a citizen. He’s white. He’s young. He’s male. He’s got every racist and sexist advantage known to man and then some. He’s young and active— that should shoot him up the list, no?”

“Ma’am.” The doctor’s voice was thin. “We do not judge based on race or gender-”

“But you sure do give them an advantage don’t you?” My statement made no sense. At this point I was picking a fight for no reason. It was a vain effort in trying to get my frustration out. “Sorry. I’m just upset.” I told the doctor. “Even if you do put him on the transplant list, there’s no way he’s getting a heart in two weeks is he?” The doctor shook his head. I felt like crying. “There has to be something.” I hated how my voice broke at the end. I had to be strong. I still had to tell Sammy, Bobby, and John. And now Jessica too. “Some clinical trial, or- or— I don’t know.” I hated begging. But for Dean, I would do anything.

“We can’t work miracles. I really am sorry.” The doctor said gently. And he left.

Miracles… was this the episode where Dean met with a faith healer? It sure felt like it. Could I… save him? Didn’t another man die in order for him to live? Was the sacrifice worth it? Sacrifice. I felt disgusted by my own thoughts. Wouldn’t I be the same as the bastards of the town with the scarecrow God?

I shook my head. We would get through this. Surely, a heart transplant couldn’t be that hard to get. Someone somewhere in the country must be working for a cure for electrocuted hearts too. They had to be. There was always something going on. I heard something clatter in the hospital room where Dean was resting. I glanced through the door and felt like crying.

Dean, my strong Dean who was always helping people out, was struggling to get a TV remote off the floor. There were tubes and lines hooked up to him. And his bare chest was littered with EKG stickers. And his face was so pale. He’d always had very light skin, but he wasn’t white like a sheet. The bags under his eyes contrasted with the paleness of his skin. God, how many sleepless nights had we had, but he’d never looked like this .

I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly to steady myself. I had to be strong for him. “Need help with that?” I looked at the remote that was on the floor.

“No,” he grunted as he attempted to pick it up again.

I couldn’t watch him struggle. He had never been this bad. I walked over despite his weak protests– God his voice was so weak– and handed him the remote from the floor. He eyed the offending remote and waved his hand. “Never mind.” he looked away.

“Was it the volume?” I sat down on the chair next to the bed. I could barely hear the terrible jokes of the sitcom. “Maybe the channel. I heard one of the nurses talk about a game. Do you boys even watch soccer? Or just baseball. Or maybe football. I don’t actually know what games y’all watch.”

“Thought we were married.” he grumbled.

I forced a smile. “Doesn’t mean I have to have your hobbies. Do you know what a half double crochet is?”

“No,” he sounded horrified at the mention.

“Exactly.” I switched to a sports channel. It was golf. We both hated golf. It was boring and time consuming. It sucked. But it was also the only channel showing anything that would remotely interest Dean.

“Daytime TV is terrible.” Dean commented when an ad came on not even two minutes into the game.

“Dean,” I prodded. “We need to talk.”

He wouldn’t even look at me. “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down.”

“You won’t be hunting anything if we don’t fix that heart of yours.”

“If I hear another death sentence from another hemorrhoids ad I will shoot the TV.”

“Dean.” I grabbed his hand.

His tired green eyes flickered to mine. “Yeah. All right, well, looks like you're gonna leave town without me.”

“Without you?” What was he talking about? “Why would I leave without you? I’m not leaving you here.”

“Hey, you better take care of that car.” I hated how serious his tone was. “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your pretty ass.” Seriously? He was making jokes?

“Stalker much.” I wasn’t any better than him in that department. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Look, Sharon, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” not even a sweetheart in the sentence. My real name rolled off his tongue. But for some reason I hated it. I wanted him to call me sweetheart, tell me to dress like a nurse so he could live out a porn fantasy he’d had, try to get me to coddle and feed him while he rotted in bed because he got a rash from a bandaid and the hospital wouldn’t let him go until it was resolved.

“It’s not the end of story.” Not his story. It didn’t end here. “You–” I couldn’t say the words ‘so much to live for’. Apparently that was revealing the future too much for the Angel.

Dean finished my sentence for me. “Have so much to live for?” He gave an empty laugh. I hated that too. “I have nothing.”

How. Just how could he say that. “Nothing?” I could feel the stupid tears welling up in my eyes.

“Yeah. nothing. Mom’s dead. Dad’s missing. Sam ran away. Baby’s getting old. What do you think I have left?”

“Me?” I choked on my own voice. “Who am I to you?”

His green eyes met mine. “I’ve lost too much.”

“And– And I haven’t?” I rubbed at my eyes as if to squeeze out the water out of them. “Do I mean nothing to you? You would die and leave me alone? What happened to your promises of protecting me? Of taking care of me? Of loving me until death?”

“You don’t love me back.” he looked away. “All this time, I’ve been the one saying I love you. I haven’t heard that from you. Ever.”

That’s what all this was about? Me not having the guts to say ‘I love you’? Seriously?

“You know what?” I stood up and my chair screeched against the floor. “Fuck you Dean Winchester. Thanks for ruining my life.”

I couldn’t breathe right even as I slammed the door to his room shut. I shot a text to Sam. ‘Dean’s dying.’ That would have to do. He could have his stupid brother back. I clearly wasn’t worth his time to even stay alive.

 

“Hey,” I stood at the entrance to the hospital as Sam and Jessica hopped off my bike.

“How is he?” Sam looked haggard. His eyes were red, but still brimmed with tears.

“Dunno.” I hadn’t been back to his room since I walked out. I’d watched him through the glass doors, but that was it.

The Doctors kept updating me, but none of it had been good news, only forms for me to sign in case something did happen to him. Someone had even walked up to me asking if Dean was an organ donor. And I’d responded in a manner I never knew I could actually respond in. ‘Go fuck yourself’ the words had left my mouth before I’d even realised. The man had stammered out an apology before running off.

And now I’d humiliated myself so bad I couldn’t even look up in the hospital hallways as I walked from the waiting room to the bathroom. No amount of apologies I gave the staff made the gossip die down. ‘The patient in that room? Yeah his wife’s crazy.’ ‘She’ll try to kill you if you even suggest he’s gonna die.’ ‘She’s in denial, isn’t she? Won’t even go into the room.’ ‘I’m tellin’ ya. Stay away from her.’ But they took good care of him. I could see it in the way they smiled at him. They liked him. Whether for his looks or his charm, they all liked him. And treated him well. That was enough for me.

I took my bike from Sam and put on my helmet. “Wait, you’re leaving?” Sam finally noticed the bag on my back. “But Dean’s still–”

“I can’t.” I told him. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I can’t Sam. I’m hurting more people than I can handle.”

Jessica looked like she was gonna say something, but Sam stopped her. “Come back whenever.” he said gently.

Never, not after what he said. I accepted my helmet and keys from him and started driving off.

The wind howled in my ears even through the helmet and the song booming through my earphones. It nipped and ripped at my legs, but what did it matter. I was pretty sure a rock from earlier had somehow lodged itself in my shoe. That didn’t matter either. What did matter was getting away. From this, from everything. I should have known. I couldn’t change jackshit about this world. So there was no point in me being here.

 

Suicide was starting to feel like a very tempting idea. It wasn’t like I hadn’t contemplated it before. I definitely had. Failed exams had led to one too many crying sessions in the car as I dug my nails into my hands to keep myself from stepping on the gas and running my beloved car into a tree. Failed interviews had even led me to the top floor of the parking structures to try and decide which corner would give me a one way ticket to Hell, but the ‘suicide hotline number’ on the best corner had stared at me, long enough for me to realise I wasn’t gonna give my college the satisfaction of successfully being on the news for a corpse on campus. And when I’d had that argument with my parents about college decisions, I’d tried to stab a scissor into my legs, only to be stopped by the fact that the scissor I’d grabbed was the one we used exclusively for the Gods and Goddesses in the living room, and I would feel guilty if my parents had to buy another one scissor from the dollar store.

Today, however, nothing was stopping me. Nothing was stopping me from driving into oncoming traffic and getting hit by a truck. Maybe running in front of a truck would be more productive.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I didn’t even want to check the caller ID, or the innumerous texts that had been blowing it up. What an awesome day to throw a phone in a lake. But I wasn’t stupid. Phones were expensive. I took out the SIM card with great difficulty and chucked it into the water. Why were they so tiny?

I pocketed my now useless phone and got back on the bike. I could just start a new life, couldn’t I? I’d done it once before, and I could do it again.

 

“Hey,” I looked up when the other bartender walked in for his shift.

“Hey,” I spared him a glance and got back to wiping down the counters. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. I hadn’t been for the past two days.

“Are you working the twelve hour graveyard again?” He put down his bag in the locker room and tied his apron around his waist.

“Yeah,” I tossed the rag into the bin to be washed.

“Do you really need the cash or something?” he asked.

He asked too many questions. “Kind of.”

“Hey…” His hand suddenly landed on my elbow.

I stiffened and fixed him with a side eye. Was he trying something?

“I just wanted to say… whatever is going on in your life… If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll be here.”

I tugged my arm away from him. “No thanks.”

The look on his face turned bright red as he looked down at the floor. “Sorry. Just thought you might want to talk.”

“It’s fine.” I felt sorry for him. He didn’t deserve my attitude. “Sorry, just a lot going on.”

“Oh,” his face lit up. “That’s alright. I don’t mind. Sorry for pushing.” He gave me a cute dimpled smile and disappeared into the kitchen. “I’ll get the glasses.”

“Thanks.”

I’d once read somewhere that the best way to get over a person was to hook up with another person. And right now, it felt very tempting. But I was never one to act on my intrusive thoughts, no matter how much I wanted to.

“I’m working the shift too.” He said happily. “Nice to know someone I know is gonna be working with me.”

“Yeah,” I turned around to look at the clock. “We open in thirty minutes.”

“Cooler’s running. I checked the back. We have enough lemons and cherries for the next apocalypse.” He had no idea what he was joking about, did he?

“Good.” I stretched my back.

“So, I was gonna ask—” He looked at me sheepishly. “Do you maybe wanna grab breakfast once our shift is over? I mean dinner for us. But there’s this super nice place just ten minutes away and they have awesome pancakes.”

Pancakes sounded delicious. Dean was an expert at making them, and Sammy loved having them for breakfast. Dean, right. I was trying to forget about him. “Do they have avocado toast?”

He grinned. “World’s best.”

 

He was a gentleman through and through. He offered me a ride in his car since I’d walked to work, and he held the door open for me when we walked into the cozy little cafe. He’d even pulled me a chair. Was he flirting with me?

I fiddled with the ring that I’d shifted to my right ring finger after I’d left. The engraving on the inside dug into the skin. My left ring finger was skinnier than the right one, so I’d never had this issue before. Dean had been pretty damn accurate with the measuring. Even now I could feel it. Him sliding it onto my finger and me sliding his onto his finger. They’d been rough and calloused, but so tender with love.

“Marisa. Marisa? Are you listening?” I snapped back to reality when the man in front of me called my name. What was his name? I tried to remember. C-something. Christian? Christopher? Just Chris? Cale? I didn’t even know the name of the guy I was essentially on a date with.

“Yeah, sorry.” I looked down at the table. “Long day- night- what were you saying?”

He gave me an awkward smile. “I was asking about how you ended up in this town.” He glanced around. “We’re not exactly the largest well known ones.”

That was exactly why I was here. This place was out in the boonies. Rundown sheds, rundown buildings, and the motels were so cheap I was renting one for only forty a night. Granted I was staying in the cheapest one. Our bar was the only one left standing and that was due to the huge college student population that rented the cheap apartments here. Obviously the hour-long commute was worth it.

Sharon, not even Sharon Winchester, would ever live in a town like this. She liked big suburban cities. Not whatever this town was.

“This place is cozy.” I responded. “I needed a change of pace.”

“Are you running away from something?”

“Maybe,” I sipped the coffee in front of me. “I need more sugar.”

“Here,” C whatever passed me one pack. That was not gonna cut it.

“Sorry, gonna need more.” I waved down the waitress. “Seven sugars, please.”

“Of course.” She smiled, and walked away.

“Seven?” C looked at me in shock.

“I usually need five. But these packets are small.”

“Wow. I’ve never seen a woman eat that much sugar.” I wasn’t sure I liked the way he said that. “Do you work out?” Dean never asked me those kinds of questions. He’d made a snarky comment the first time, but since then he always made sure my coffee had the right amount. The waitress handed me my sugars and I dumped them all into my coffee. C watched me like a hawk. He was probably trying to gauge how much I weighed. Not like I cared. I took a sip of the coffee. I frowned at the taste. My taste buds were probably out of whack as usual.

“Not really.” I never went to the gym. No time for gym memberships when hunting. And even when I was at Bobby’s, I would much rather spend my free time curled on the window seat with a book in my hands and AirPods in my ears.

“You’re being so mysterious.” he chuckled.

I shrugged. He didn’t even know my real name. “Sorry. It’s hard for me to talk about it.”

“Bad ex?”

“You could say that.” It felt wrong to call Dean my ex. He wasn’t. We hadn’t formally broken up. But I’d also never formally told him ‘I love you’ either. Could you break up with someone you never said ‘I love you’ to?

“Okay…” C looked up when the waitress brought our food over. “So you broke up with your boyfriend but still have a ring from him… come to hide in a random town out in the boonies where you stand out… work at a random bar even though you yourself don’t drink…” he laughed. “You’re a walking contradiction.”

“How did you know the ring’s from him?” I covered the silver with my other hand.

“You touch it every time your ex is mentioned.”

I chewed the inside of my mouth. “It’s complicated. And what do you mean I stand out?”

He smiled. “No one here wears high waisted jeans with their shirts tucked in like that. And you’re kind of the most popular bartender in the area right now. Everyone wants to have a drink made by you.”

I sighed. “I was trying to not stand out.”

“Well, you’re too skilled. What can I say?” He looked at my plate. “Not appetising?”

Oh right. Avocado toast. I took a bite of it. I hated how crunchy it was. The sharp crust stabbed the insides of my mouth and it was so damn dry, but I swallowed it. “It’s good.”

“I know.” he dug into his own food. “So what hobbies do you have?”

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

Sam looked at his phone with rising panic. It had been three days since he’d heard from his sister. Three days since her phone said ‘this number is unavailable’ no matter how many, or who, or when they called. What the hell had happened? On top of that his brother was making preparations for his funeral. And Dad wasn’t responding. And Bobby was too busy trying to find the missing woman.

“Sam, it’ll all be okay.” he looked up at the only one that was still with him.

“Jess.” he wrapped his arms around her. “Jess, it’s all wrong. This is all wrong.”

“I know.” she whispered back. “I’m sorry.” She rubbed his back even as his tears soaked her shirt. “We just have to be strong. Your dad is the world’s best hunter right? And you said Sharon was good at what she does. I’m sure they’ll be okay.”

“But- but Dean–”

“We’ll figure this out.” She held back her own tears as she squeezed him closer. “We’ll figure this out together.”

 

“Yeah, a girl like that did walk in. Silver ring on her hand right? Woman wouldn’t stop fiddling with it.” Bobby glanced up at the store clerk. “She was about this tall though.” The man raised his hand up till it was above Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby frowned. Sharon wasn’t that tall. She came up to his shoulders, but never past. Unless she was wearing platforms. “What kinda shoes was she wearin’?”

“Shoes?” the clerk squinted as he thought. “I couldn’t really tell man. Her jeans were kinda long.”

Platform. She was wearing her platforms. So he was looking for a 5’6” woman and not a 5’2”. “Thank you for your help.” Bobby fixed his trench coat. It could be just any other woman. But then again just how many women rode their bikes in miniskirts.

“Did she commit a murder or something?” the clerk asked.

Bobby tilted his head curiously. “Maybe. Why?”

“She looked like she was gonna kill someone. But surprisingly polite.” he shook her head. “I don’t believe she committed whatever crime you’re trynna arrest her for.”

Bobby said nothing to that comment. “Thanks for your time.”

He got back in his sedan and started the car back up again. She was being surprisingly sloppy. He had expected her to have at least put on enough makeup so she didn’t look like her real age. He also hadn’t expected her to make gas station stops right according to her mileage. He sighed. Her emotions were taking over. And normally he would have gotten upset over that, but with what was going on he could hardly blame her. He started driving again, down the road until her 4 gallons of fuel ran out.

 

“Dean, what the hell did you tell her?” Sam pleaded with his brother again. “She’s gone. It’s been two weeks.”

“She’ll do what she wants. She's a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.” Dean just said.

Sam shook his head. “But Dean. She wouldn’t just run out like that unless something happened.”

Dean scoffed. “Well obviously she was sick of a sick husband so she left. What does it matter? Maybe she’s living her apple pie life with another man right now.”

Realization dawned on Sam. “You made her leave. So she could have a better, normal life.”

Dean made no comment on that statement.

Sam wanted to punch his idiot of a brother in the face. The only thing holding him back was the fact that Jessica was sleeping on the couch next to him. If he made a ruckus then he would wake her up. And they were in a hospital.

“She always wanted to play house, Sam. I was the only thing tying her down. This way, she can be free.”

Neither of them could believe the words Dean was saying. Sam sighed. “If you got better, would you want her back.” He needed to know before he proposed the solution he’d come up with. It didn’t matter what Dean said. He would take him to the faith healer no matter what. But he just had to make sure.

“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t look him in the eye

Sam felt like crying at the resignation in his brother’s voice. He had completely given up, hadn't he.

“Dean.” He said with his voice as stable as he could manage. “I was calling Dad’s contacts in his journal.”

Dean frowned. “For what?”

“For a way to help you. One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?”

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going.”

 

Bobby continued his search. Maybe she hadn’t been as sloppy as he’d thought.

“No sir. We have had no women matching that description walk in.” The man at the bar shook his head.

Huh. “Then was she about yay high?” He moved his hands down to his chest.

“Yes sir.” The man nodded. “Sat right over there.” He pointed to a chair in the corner.

“Did she wear a silver ring?”

“Couldn't tell ya that officer. Her sleeves were too long.”

What other identifying features did she have? “A mole right by her lips?”

“If you mean a dark dot then yeah. Wouldn’t call it a mole though. Looked like she’d drawn it in with blank ink.”

“Can you tell me where she was headed?”

“Not really.” The man looked outside. “She did get hit on by a couple of guys though. I think she left with them.” She would have never done that.

“Do you have their names?”

The next stop he made was at the gym where the three guys supposedly worked out at.

“Nah man, ain’t got no clue as to where she went. Hustled us for our money and then left.”

“Those some mad pool skills. She called them billiards. Thought she was British. Asked me for directions to the interstate though. Offered ta drop her off for a small fee but she said nah.”

“She was hot. Not many women willing to wear miniskirts in this area. And on a bike? Bro she crazy.”

That was definitely her. He socked the guys that had tried to make a move on her right in the jaw. “Keep your hands off a defenseless girl next time.” Though she was anything but defenseless.

 

Dean, Sam, and Jessica sat in the tent with the giant words ‘The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle.’

Jessica nodded at the young woman in front of them, who nodded back.

Dean looked around with exaggerated head motions before muttering. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over.”

Sam followed his gaze to a security camera. He sighed. “Really Dean?”

Jessica grabbed Sam’s hand when she felt an argument was about to start between the brothers. “It’s starting.” she told them.

And a man in sunglasses was helped up onto the stage.

He started talking. “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” the crowd agreed. “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

Sam’s eyes darted across the items on the stage. A table with religious symbols. And the woman, Sue Ann he assumed, was wearing an odd looking cross. Whatever, to each their own. All he wanted was his normal brother back.

“But, I say to you, God is watching.” Roy continued. The crowd muttered in agreement. “God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt.” the crowd agreed again, almost in a cult-like manner. “It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts!”

“Yeah, and their wallets.” Dean whispered to Sam.

“You think so, young man?” Dean was startled by the sudden attention brought to him.

“Sorry,” he said, almost in a mocking tone. The woman in front of him, and what seemed to be her mother, glared at him.

“No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man, we've got real sharp ears.” Roy chuckled. And the crowd did too.

Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His tough guy exterior was beginning to crumble. He felt vulnerable. His whole body felt weak. And his support system was in pieces. He had his brother on his right, but his Dad was missing, and so was his wife.

“What’s your name, son?” Roy asked.

Dean hesitated. “Dean,”

“Dean.” Roy nodded to no one in particular. “I want- I want you to come up here with me.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

Sam nudged him. “Just do it, Dean. It’s worth a shot.”

“You've come here to be healed, haven't cha?” Roy motioned for him to join him.

“Well, yeah, but uh… maybe you should just pick someone else.”

Sam fixed him with a glare. “What are you doing?!” He hissed.

“Oh, no. I didn't pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Roy raised his unseeing eyes to the sky. “The Lord picked you.”

The crowd started cheering for him to go up there. Sam shoved him into the aisle. Dean felt embarrassed. He liked attention, but he wasn’t used to this level of attention. His life was meant to be lived in the shadows, with the spotlight on him only in the shadiest of bars and nastiest of motel rooms.

He slowly made his way to the stage and got up.

“Look, no disrespect, but uh, I'm not exactly a believer.” he told Roy. Sue Ann stood next to Roy with a warm smile despite his comment.

“You will be, son. You will be.”

“Are you sure this is right?” Jessica whispered to Sam.

Sam nodded. “I’ll explain later.”

“Pray with me, friends.” Roy raised his arms to the sky, as did the crowd.

Jessica and Sam awkwardly raised their arms too. Roy’s hands went from the sky to holding Dean’s shoulder and touching his head. Dean shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like being touched by strangers. What had Sam gotten him into? He looked to Sam, trying to keep his reactions subtle. Sam only gave him an encouraging smile.

“Alright, now.” Roy whispered.

Dean’s eyes glazed over as his vision grew blurry. His legs buckled under him as the strength left him completely. Suddenly he was losing consciousness. His eyes rolled back and his head hit the floor.

“Dean!” Sam ran up to his brother and Jessica followed.

Sam cradled his brother’s head on his lap and Jessica moved to check his pulse. “He’s okay.” Jessica said with wide eyes.

What the hell had just happened. Sam looked down at his brother who was now slowly starting to wake up. “Dean, say something,” he pleaded. He couldn’t lose his brother.

Dean gasped as though he was breathing after a long time. “What the hell?”

 

Bobby pulled out his phone in another attempt at reaching the runaway woman. “The number you have called is unavailable…”

“Balls.” he threw the phone into the passenger seat. Where the hell was she?

His eyes snapped to the phone as it rang a moment later. Was she calling him? He hurriedly checked the ID. It was Sam. Was he calling about Dean? Maybe he got a lead on Sharon too.

“Bobby,”

Bobby felt relieved at the happiness in Sam’s voice. “Sam. How's Dean?”

“The lead checked out. Dean’s fine. Doc said that it’s like he never had a heart attack.”

“Well, good. Now you idjits get movin’. Her trail stops cold here.”

“Actually, Bobby, uh.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”

“We think we have a case.” Sam’s voice dropped low. “Dean thinks there’s something wrong with this faith healer. Apparently a guy around Dean’s age dropped dead of a heart attack all of a sudden.”

“So? Coincidence, right? These things happen.”

“No, Bobby. This- this seems to be really weird. The other guy died right about the time Dean was healed.”

“Okay. That doesn’t sound like a coincidence.” He sagged lower in his seat. “I’m assuming you kids want to pursue this case.”

“Yeah, I kind of don’t want to leave him alone.” He heard Sam shuffle on the other side. “I’ll call you once this case is over.”

“I’m countin’ on it.”

 

1st Person P.O.V.

His name turned out to be Christopher. I was almost right in that. I pulled the shutters of the bar down as Christopher wiped down the last of the tables.

“We’ll be leaving then!” the waiter and waitress couple waved as they left. Their lips were locked onto each other’s before they’d even managed to close the door. The way the man held the woman’s hips reminded me of Dean’s hand on mine. I could almost feel the warmth seeping in, the memory was that fresh.

“Don’t forget to clock out.” the manager of the bar said as she hurriedly grabbed her bags. “Sorry to leave you two to close alone.”

“No problem.” Christopher told her with a smile. “You go take care of your baby.”

The manager flashed us a smile. “Thanks.” and she too left, leaving me and Christopher alone.

Christopher cleared his throat. “So, um, I was wondering.” He looked down at his feet nervously.

Was this it? This was when he asked me out? What was I going to say? ‘I’m technically married’? ‘Sorry I don’t like you’? ‘I would love to bang just to make Dean jealous’? ‘Let’s shag like rabbits so I could get revenge on Dean for telling me I’m not worth living for’? None of them seemed like good answers. Even as my mind raced at a million miles per hour, I wasn’t prepared when he finally asked, “I was wondering if you would go out with me.”

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

Jessica couldn’t believe her ears. A reaper. Reapers were real. And one of them had just exchanged a man’s life for Dean’s. What the actual fuck? And even more so, she couldn’t believe what Sam was saying.

“Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

This wasn’t the Sam she’d fallen in love with. Was he really okay with another man dying for his brother? The love the brothers had for each other was endearing, but this? She swallowed dryly. She kind of understood. She would probably say the same thing if it were Sam instead of Dean instead. But she couldn’t bring herself to stomach it.

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean said quietly.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.”

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know.”

They both had a point. But she had a feeling about who did know about this. She picked up her phone and tried the number again. “The number you are calling–” she snapped the phone shut. Sharon had run away. And this must have been the reason why.

“Sam, I’m gonna go find her.” Jessica stood up, grabbing her bags.

“Who?” Sam looked at her pleadingly.

“Sharon. She knew this was going to happen, right? That’s why she left. Because she knew this wasn’t something she could handle.”

“No, leave her alone.” Dean’s voice held a warning. “She’s doing just fine.”

“Dean,” Sam bristled. “Don’t use that tone with Jess.”

“Or what?” Dean challenged. “You’re gonna kill me? Cause I’m fine with that!”

“Dean, for once in your goddamn life. Just shut up! We’re doing this for you! Everything I do, is for you!”

“I never asked for it!”

Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped between the brothers and pushed both their hands down and away from each other’s throats. “Enough! Let’s just finish this case! And then we can worry about everything else. Innocent people are dying!”

Sam and Dean glared at each other. Jessica was right. They had people to save.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“Look, Christopher. I know you’re a great guy, and all that, but–”

“I knew it.” Christopher’s eyes were downturned. “You don’t feel the same way.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He looked so sad it hurt. But this was for his own good. “I can’t love you.”

“Am I being friendzoned?” he laughed dryly. “That’s fine, by the way.” he held a hand up. “It’s fine. I was prepared for you to say no.”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

“If you want to apologize. Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Why did you leave your ex?”

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

“You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?” Sam leaned forwards, almost in shock.

“No no no, not THE reaper, a reaper.” Dean corrected. “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.”

“Wow,” Jessica listened breathlessly. “Reapers. We’re gonna kill a reaper? But we can’t even see them. Actually, how do you know it even was a reaper?”

“You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time.” Dean explained. “And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you couldn't.”

“Maybe.” Sam sounded a little skeptical.

“There's nothing else it could be Sam. The question is how is Roy controlling the damn thing?”

“That cross.” Sam chimed.

“What?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that cross.” Jessica pulled out a stack of papers. “It was in here somewhere…” She pulled out a tarot card.

“A Tarot?”

Sam’s eyes lit up as he connected the dots. “It makes sense. A tarot dates back to the early christian era right, when some priests were still using magic? And a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy and how to push death away, how to cause it?”

“So Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?” Dean summarised.

“If he is, he's riding the whirlwind. It's like putting a dog leash on a great white.” Sam shook his head.

“Ok then we stop Roy.” Dean stood up.

“How?” Jessica asked.

“You know how.” Dean turned away from them to put his cup in the sink.

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about Dean, we can't kill Roy.” Sam frowned. Jessica nodded along.

“Sam the guys playing God, he's deciding who lives and who dies. That's a monster in my book.”

“We can’t just kill a human being.” Jessica stepped in. “We do that, we're no better than he is.”

“Ok, we can't kill Roy, we can't kill death. Any bright ideas, college kids?”

Sam racked his brain for a nonviolent solution. “Ok. Uh… If Roy's using some kind of black spell on the reaper, we gotta… figure out what it is. And how to break it.”

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“I don’t know if I truly love him.” I grabbed my small purse. “I don’t exactly love the way people normally do.”

“Meaning?”

“I just don’t feel the same. I don’t know how to explain it. Like I can’t say ‘I love you’ to the person I love the most.”

“It’s just three words. He dumped you for that?”

Well I ran away, but I wasn’t going to explain that. “Three words that mattered a lot to him. And I guess I couldn’t say them. It’s fine. Life’s great.”

“I can’t make you change your mind?” He asked gently.

Not really. I wanted his arms around me again, to warm me up in that cold motel bedroom. I missed him. I’d thought that if I could just get away from him for a while, I would be fine. But no, as the days went by, I longed to see the glint of silver on his left ring finger as much as the silver of mine blinded me at the right angle. I missed the way he would bake pancakes on one of the portable stoves we’d gotten so we could make ourselves a slightly homemade meal when we weren’t working a case. The damn tears were welling up in my eyes again.

“Sorry, I’m gonna go.”

I grabbed my bag and left. The wind was angry as it whipped my loose hair all over my face. I spat out the strands in my mouth and ran my way into my motel room. I slammed the door shut and sank down to the floor. I missed him. Was he even alive? I shouldn’t have thrown away that SIM card. Maybe I should have brought more than one phone. I regretted everything. Had he died without me ever being able to give him a proper goodbye? Were the last words I’d said to him really just ‘fuck you’?

I stared at the empty single bed in the room. It was made haphazardly by the motel staff, and the pillows had yellow stains I tried to not think about. What difference did it make if I went to bed? It wasn’t like Dean was going to make the other sink impossibly low and gravity would send me rolling against his chest. Not even Sam was there to keep me company and debate about Harry Potter all night long.

What did it even matter? It was a miracle I hadn’t ended my life yet. But it wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t going to let the world have the satisfaction of me killing myself. I was stronger than that. This shit sucked. But it was fine. I was always fine.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

“Another break in?” Jessica whispered as she jumped over the window sill.

“Kind of what we do.” Sam grinned at her.

Jessica shook her head. “This is crazy.” But she had a smile on her face that said otherwise.

She started looking around the house along with Sam. They made their way to the living room where there was a surprisingly large collection of books.

“Sam,” she grabbed his sleeve. “This book.”

It was the only one without dust. He grabbed the book and slid it out of its place. He peered into the empty cavity and realised there was a tinier book in the back. “There’s something there.” He attempted to force his hand into the gap, but he was too large.

“Let me.” Jessica nudged him aside to stick her hand inside and managed to grab the book with two fingers. With great care she got it out, and the two of them flipped through it. “Oh my God,”

Sam spread out the pictures in the book, no, journal, to see them more clearly. “Marshall Hall was gay, the woman that died last night was an abortion rights advocate. And this-” it was the guy that was protesting outside the tent.

“We have to tell Dean.”

“Yeah,” Sam was already calling him. “Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral. And I think I know who's next on his list. Remember that protestor?” He grabbed Jessica’s hand and tugged her out of the house. “Yeah. Yeah, I'll find him. But you can't let Roy heal anyone, alright?”

 

Bobby was getting ready to give up. Sharon had started changing her appearance a little more often and now he was stumped. It had been a little over two weeks since she’d left, and she really didn’t want to be found. He went over the many disguises she’d used over the course of the past near decade. Goth girl, preppy girl, librarian, pilot, FBI agent, crazy drug addict, she’d done it all. He was pretty sure there was a blue and yellow gown in her closet somewhere that she’d worn to sneak into Disney World as Snow White for a case.

“Hi,” a small voice chimed.

He turned around towards the voice. It was a young boy. The kid continued speaking. “You were looking for a girl right?”

“Right. Have you seen her?”

“First of all, are you actually a cop?” the kid’s eyes were narrowed.

He debated. “No,” he went with that. He had to earn the kid’s trust if the kid knew something. “She’s my daughter.” the word felt weird in his mouth. “She went missing a few weeks ago.”

“I saw someone on a bike.” the kid said. “She in trouble?”

“No. Not legal trouble. Not with the cops or FBI or CIA.”

“She's gonna get an ass whooping when she gets back right?” the kid cracked a smile. “I saw her at the thrift store over there.” he pointed him in a direction. “She bought me new clothes, gave me a shower in her room.”

Sounded like her. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No, sir. But she had me repaint her bike in return. Not worth the clothes and the shower. But it helped me, not her. So I took the deal.”

“What color?”

“Green. A snazzy neon green.”

Snazzy? Bobby took a mental note to look up the word later. “Anything else?”

“Spray painted her license plate too.”

Bingo. “What are the new numbers?”

“It’s gonna cost ya.” the kid smirked.

Bobby rolled his eyes but pulled out a twenty.

The kid cheered as he rattled off the license plate number. “Thanks sir.”

“Thanks to you too, kid.”

“Hope ya find her. She was a real good girl.”

He bet she was.

 

“Layla, listen to me. You can't go up there.” Dean said as he grabbed the woman’s arm. He felt guilty for saying that. He’d been saved by Roy, but he couldn’t even let this one other woman be saved. ‘Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?’ The words of Layla’s mother rang in his head. He didn’t know. Why did he? Sam wouldn’t let him die, Sharon wouldn’t let him die. And now apparently some evil guy also wouldn’t let him die.

“I don't understand, Roy healed you didn't he? Why can't you let him try?” The woman in his hands looked confused.

“Cause if you do something bad is going to happen. I can't explain. I just need you to believe me.” He pleaded with her through his eyes. She couldn’t do it. He wasn’t going to let another innocent person die.

“Layla.” Sue Ann called.

“Please.” Dean tried again. Would she listen?

Layla shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

Of course, it was never that easy. Good women were never that easy.

“I knew the Lord was planning. I knew it was just a matter of time.” Roy said with a smile.

Dean simply watched silently. This was all wrong.

“Pray with me, friends.” Roy was doing his thing again, touching Layla’s shoulder and head. “I hope you're ready.”

He couldn’t watch this. Dean walked out of the tent and yelled in a higher pitch than his usual voice. “FIRE! Hurry, tent’s on fire!” He watched as people ran out of the tent. His eyes fell on Layla and her mom sobbing hysterically on the ground. It sucked. But it had to be done. The right thing had to be done. He called Sam. “I did it, I stopped Roy.”

Sam was facing a different situation, however. “Dean it didn't work.The reaper's still coming!”

He could hear Sam running and another man on the other side yelling. Jessica was yelling out words of comfort, but they did little to soothe any of the men’s nerves.

“I'm telling you, I'm telling you it didn't work. Roy must not be the one controlling this thing.” Sam said in between breaths.

Dean’s eyes fell on the woman chanting some weird prayer with her weird cross clenched in her hands. “Sue Ann.” He grabbed her and pinned her to the tent walls.

“Help! Help me!” she shrieked.

Dean almost rolled his eyes. Of course that was the trick she was going to use. He almost laughed when two cops forced his hands behind him. Of course. Of course this happened. Women were such fickle creatures. Everyone trusted a woman.

“I just don't understand. After everything we've done for you. After Roy healed you. I'm just very, very disappointed Dean.” He wanted to laugh in her face at her acting. “You can let him go. I'm not gonna press charges. The Lord will deal with him as he sees fit.”

“We catch you round here again son, we'll put the fear of God in you, understand?” the cop holding him said.

“Yes sir, fear of god. Got it.” Dean drawled.

The cops gave him one final shove and he was face to face with Layla who looked betrayed. Her expression reminded him of Sharon’s, when he’d told her those words, when he’d pushed her away. He’d hoped she would live a better life without him. But now he was starting to regret those being his final words. 

“Why would you do that Dean? And it could have been my only chance.” Layla whispered.

“He's not a healer.” He said simply.

“He healed you.”

“I know it doesn't seem fair, and I wish I could explain. But Roy is not the answer, I'm sorry.”

Layla shook her head sadly. “Goodbye, Dean. I wish you luck. I really do.”

Those were the words he’d wanted to hear from Sharon when she’d left. Hell, she’d cursed at him before she’d left. And honestly? He’d deserved it.

“Same to you,” he said. “You deserve it a lot more than me.”

He wished he’d told his wife that instead.

 

“Where’s Sue Ann?” Dean asked as the three of them peered into the tent.

“House.” Sam said, spotting her as she walked towards the house.

“Wait, Dean.” Jessica cried when Dean disappeared. “Where are you going?”

“You two go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“What are you–” Sam started but he was pushed away by Dean.

“Hey! You gonna put that fear of God in me?!” Dean yelled and took off. Sam and Jessica pressed themselves against a wall as two cops ran past them.

“Let’s go.” Sam whispered to Jessica and they headed towards the house.

“Basement.” Jessica pointed to the stream of light coming out of the outside basement entrance. “Are we going in?”

Sam put away his flashlight. “Yeah.” he pulled the doors open and waited for Jessica to safely get inside. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Ritualistic things. It’ll be obvious.” Sam said and walked to one side of the room. Jessica took the other side. They kept walking until they got through a narrow hallway to another room.

“Like that?” Jessica whispered in horror. There were dead animals everywhere, candles lit, and odd symbols drawn everywhere. In the middle of it all was a picture of Dean, and it had been crossed out in what looked like blood.

“I gave your brother life and I can take it away.” came the sudden voice of Sue Ann. “Sam, Jessica, can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked. And your brother is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

“The altar! Destroy the altar!” Sam yelled to Jessica as he ran after Sue Ann.

 

Dean stopped in his tracks when the lights on the road he was running on started to go out. One by one. The police were no longer behind him. And it seemed like time had stopped. The trees no longer rustled in the wind, and the chirping of the crickets had gone silent. He knew what was coming. The reaper. He was going to die.

 

In the Church, Roy had begun his ‘miracle session’ again. He placed a hand on Layla’s head and shoulder and started praying. Layla’s mom prayed through her sobs and raised her hands up high.

 

Jessica smashed the altar as much as she could. She threw the animal carcasses off the table and threw Dean’s crossed out picture into the fire. She destroyed as many objects on it as she could. Would that be enough? Or should she break more? Her eyes landed on a hammer in the corner. She picked it up and clenched it tight. Just how many times did she ever get to smash her frustrations out? She swung down with all her might.

 

Sam raced after Sue Ann. She was chanting something in Latin even as she fled towards the tent, clutching her cross like her life depended on it.

 

Dean sank down to his knees in front of the reaper as his body convulsed. This was what he got for his actions as of late. He closed his eyes as he waited for sweet death to take him over. But he had regrets, so many of them. He snapped his eyes open and glared at the reaper with all the strength he had left.

 

Sam grabbed Sue Ann by the shoulder, forced her around and slammed her into the ground. He snatched the cross from her and dug his boots into it as hard as he could. With a resounding crack, the wood broke into pieces. Sue Ann gave a loud shriek. “He’s here! No! Please!” and her body fell limp.

 

Dean looked up as the reaper walked away from him. He fell back on his arms and took deep breaths to calm his beating heart. He had been so close to death. And even though he thought he wanted it, he clearly didn’t. His green eyes drifted to the ring on his finger. He had things to do.

 

“I don't understand…” Roy looked around in a panic.

“I don't… feel any different…?” Layla’s voice trembled. She looked at Roy who was moving his head around. “Reverend?”

“Sue Ann?”

 

“Sue Ann’s dead.” Sam told Jessica and Dean when the three of them gathered at the motel room.

“The reverend?” Dean asked.

“He’s fine.” Sam nodded.

“What about you, Dean? Are you alright?” Jessica looked worriedly at the older Winchester.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He rolled the ring around his finger. The silver felt cold on his skin. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Bobby’s closing in on her.” Sam passed his phone to him. “You wanna go check up on her?”

Dean’s lips parted as he debated. “If she doesn’t have a better life, I’ll bring her back.”

“She’s gonna wanna come back.” Jessica said firmly. “I know it. The way she looks when she’s with you two versus when she’s alone. You guys should definitely bring her back.”

“What about you?” Dean asked her.

Jessica shrugged. “Go back to my job, I guess. I told my boss I had a family emergency, which it was.”

“I’ll drop you off.” Sam put his arm around her waist.

Dean rolled his eyes at the act and walked away. “I’m gonna take a leak.”

Jessica smiled at the offer. “Thanks, but shouldn’t you be with Dean?”

Sam leaned down to bump his forehead against hers. “I think this is something Dean needs to do on his own.”

 

1st Person P.O.V.

I was being followed. I just knew I was. There was this constant sense of dread in my stomach. Who was it? Someone from work? Someone from the coffee shop I’d started to frequent? Someone from the motel?

I locked the door behind me as I left the room. It was a Wednesday. I had Wednesdays off. Time to do laundry and maybe figure out what to do next with my life. Over the past two, now pushing three, weeks I’d made enough money to make another trip cross country. I didn’t know where I would end up, but I would end up somewhere. I made my third and final trip to the laundromat across the street from the motel. I put the clothes into the washing machine and waited.

This was the worst part. Waiting for one cycle to finish. And there was still that feeling in my stomach. Like something was going to go horribly wrong. I leaned against the chair so the handle of my gun would dig into my back. It was uncomfortable, yet comforting. This being a small town meant no CCTV cameras unless it was the bank or the post office or the local Church. So I couldn’t even hack into the cameras to find out who it was.

I jumped when the door to the place opened. I gripped the gun in my pocket as the shadow got closer and closer, until Christopher showed up around the corner.

“It’s you.” I relaxed in relief. “I almost thought you were a murderer.” Christopher smiled, but there was something wrong. His eyes, they weren’t smiling. “Christopher? Is something wrong?”

“Do you still love him?”

I didn’t like the tone he was using. “What’re you talking about?”

“Him.” he jerked his head. “You still like him. Dean Winchester.”

How did he know his name? “How do you–” I was suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun. Shit. I should have known. Of course it was him. He was the only one I’d talked to enough to even have interested in me.

“Answer me.” he stepped closer.

My fingers curled around the coldness of my gun. “I don’t.” I lied.

He shook his head, seeing through the obvious lie. “Then why do you wear that ring?”

“It’s expensive. I can sell it for a good price.”

“If you didn’t love him, you would keep it in your bag. But you wear that all the time. So tell me, sweetheart.” My blood ran cold at the nickname. That had to be a coincidence right?

“How do you even know his name?” I demanded. What the hell could I do? Use my powers?

“It was on the inside of that ring. You shouldn’t accept food from others. Not even sugar packets.” He smiled so creepily. “They knocked you out every day.” The funny tasting coffee. It wasn’t just my taste buds. “And the motel employees don’t care.” He jingled a pair of keys in front of my face, his hand holding the gun never even flinching. “I took a good long look at you, all day long.”

Fuck. I felt sick. I wanted to hurl. I should have known. If he’d taken the ring off my finger then what else had he done?

“You look lovely without clothes, you know. But you should maybe invest in some lingerie. I bet you would look good in them.” He continued talking.

No. No way. I’d locked all my doors, all my windows, salted everything, checked for hidden cameras every single night. And yet, this lunatic had– I could feel bile rising in my throat. The world was spinning and the grip on my gun was loosening. I gripped the wall as I lost the strength in my legs. What the hell. What had he done to me. To make me defenseless. His gun lowered along with my head. He was still talking. “And baby girl you look so hot when your ass is popped out on that bike…” Disgusting. This bastard was disgusting. Tears stung my eyes and my vision grew even blurrier than before.

‘Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe’ I could hear Dean’s voice as clear as day in my head. Breathe. That’s right. Breathe. ‘If the world is spinning, then focus on something. It helps me.’ Sam had said that to me years ago when I’d completely panicked in front of my first Wendigo ever. ‘In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.’ Bobby had taught me that when I’d had a nightmare after my first actual vampire kill. ‘Eyes always on the target. Never look away. Don’t give it the advantage. Hands on weapons.’ And that advice had come from John. John Winchester, the greatest of our time.

“So you see, since I love you so much. Like, so much . But I can’t have you ever. Your heart belongs to that guy. So I thought if I can’t have you, then no one can.”

I breathed, even as Christopher rambled on and on. The white noise in my ears drowned out his rant. He obviously didn’t think I was enough of a threat right now. The hold on his gun was loosening. I focused on the gun that was now resting significantly looser in his hands. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.

“… Once I’m done fucking your brains out…” Psychopath. He was a psychopath. “…I really wanna bury you in a red babydoll. Kind of sexy you know.” What the fuck? He was eons passed psychopath. “Then I’ll go find this Dean Winchester bitch and make him–”

He never finished that sentence. My hands trembled as the bullet sank into the shoulder holding the gun. He screamed in pain. “BITCH!”

Well, this bitch was booking it out . I kicked the gun out of his reach and stomped as hard as I could into his shoulder. His screams sounded like music to my ears right now. But I had to get out. I didn’t bother grabbing my clothes even as the machine beeped that my cycle was over. I had to get to safety. Police station. Where was the nearest police station. My brain was blank as I looked left and right. Curse my incapability with directions. I chose a random direction. Only to be pulled back.

I screamed and thrashed against the person holding me.

“Son of a bitch!” I heard the person grunt when I landed a punch. I knew that voice.

I hadn’t heard that voice in nearly a month, but I remembered it so well. Dean. “Dean.” I whispered. Was I hallucinating? I must have gone crazy.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me.” he wiped the blood from his bloody lip. “I heard a gunshot and then a scream. And then I found you running out like a madwoman. Are you okay?” He was pulling out his own gun.

Was I? Physically yeah. I wasn’t hurt or anything. I nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

Right. I could taste the salty liquid running down my face. “There’s a guy–” my voice cracked. “He has a gun.”

“What’d he do to you?” Dean’s green eyes flashed with anger.

I gripped his jacket. “Please.” I couldn’t talk about it, not right now. Not when he was stumbling out the doors looking like a zombie. His blond floofy curly hair was now matted red with drying blood and his white T shirt that clung to his toned chest was dyed completely red. I felt dizzy. Like I would collapse. The only thing keeping me standing was my hold on Dean’s jacket.

“You must be that Dean.” Christopher cackled. “You don’t want her back. She’s a ruined bitch! You don’t know what I did to her!”

Ruined? What he did to me? I felt exposed, dirty, disgusting, worthless.

“I’ll decide if I want her.” another shot rang out. And then he screamed. “Come on, sweetheart.”

Dean turned around and started pulling me with him. “Dean? What did you do to him?” I turned around to see him bleeding out from his leg onto the concrete sidewalk. “Did you kill him?”

“He’s not dead, and it was self defense.”

As if on cue Christopher screamed bloody murder.

“Don’t listen to him. You’re with me now. You’re safe.” Dean’s grip was tight around my wrist. “Are you staying at a motel?”

“Yeah,”

“Which one?”

“Mariposa Nights.”

He cringed at the name. “Seriously?”

“It was the cheapest.”

He shrugged and kept pulling me along. “Come on. I parked there next to your bike. Let’s hurry up. Do you need to pack?”

“No, I was gonna leave today. How did you even find me? Wait, hang on. Are you okay? You know with the heart and all that.”

“Bobby did. He did most of the work. And yeah, I’m fine. We got it fixed. Faith healer.”

“Right. Reaper?”

“Reaper.” He pretty much kicked the door to my room open and walked in to grab my bags. “You knew about it?”

“Yeah.”

He cursed under his breath. “‘Course you did.”

“I’m sorry. I got emotional. It was stupid. But I knew Sam could figure it out. But still. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” he grabbed my duffel bag and walked towards my bike. “That color is hideous.”

“I know.”

“It sure threw us off your trail.” he knelt down to start detaching the wheels.

“Hey!” I protested.

“What? She won’t fit in Baby unless I take the wheels off.”

“Who died and made you boss? Surely she’ll fit.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow up. “Really?”

I looked down sheepishly. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“Dean. Do you really want me back?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He watched me carefully. “The question is do you want to come back? After what I said?”

“Maybe. Did you mean what you said?”

“About the ‘I love you’ stuff?” He looked guilty. “No. You’d told me since day one you couldn’t have a normal relationship. That this love stuff doesn’t make sense to you. I’m the one that decided to be okay with it. So, no. I thought I would give you a shot at a normal life. But… you have terrible taste in guys.” He cracked a smile. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“We’re not gonna ask about… what he said…?” Did he hate me? As much as I hated myself right now?

Dean stood back up and lowered his head to rest our foreheads together. “When you’re ready.” He nudged my nose with his to tilt my head back upward. “Can I?”

I nodded against his head. And his lips covered mine. They were soft, so soft. His arms were around me, holding me up as the waterworks started.

“You’re okay, sweetheart.” How I’d missed that nickname. “You’re safe.” he kissed me again. “I love you.”

I opened my eyes to see his green ones looking softly into mine. “Dean, I–”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Take your time. Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here. And I’m not letting go this time."

Notes:

Had not expected this to be so long. 12k pushing 13k words? With an exam tomorrow and day after tomorrow that I haven't studied for? YES. Also I managed to ignore hot guy for the whole duration of class until he opened his pretty mouth and talked with his beautiful voice and then we did the little 'left? right? no you're going right? wait left?' thing and he said 'sorry' so I flipping ran away, and those are the only words he's spoken to me directly and I'm dying. Send help. Anyways, there are several loose ends in this chap that I will be trying to tie in the next few ones. I'll be doing my best. :)

Chapter 19: Route 666

Summary:

"It’s not always about racism."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Racism talks
Do not kill me for this please. Racism is an issue, and I am aware of it.

Route 666

“Yeah, Bobby,” I groaned into the phone. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You’re…” He paused awkwardly, “ healing ?”

I knew what he meant. “It never hurt Bobby.”

“You know what I mean.” he scoffed.

“I thought no chick flick moments.” I laughed at the man’s grumbling on the other side. He was as nagging as my mom when I went out by myself. “I’m fine Bobby. I’m always fine.”

The older man sighed on the other side. “Sure, kid. Call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, thanks. Bye.”

“Bye.”

“What’d he say?” Sam looked up from the map he was checking out.

“The usual. Take care of yourself. Brush your teeth. Drink water. Eat food. Etc, etc.” I left out the part where he asked me how I was recovering.

Sam chuckled. “Of course.” He looked back at the map spread across Baby’s hood. “ I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here. We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” He grinned at his handiwork.

“Yeah. Problem is, we're not going to Pennsylvania.” Dean came around from the opposite side of the Impala.

Sam and I frowned. “What? Why?”

“I just got a call from an, uh, old friend.” I didn’t like how he said ‘old friend’. “Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.” ‘Her’? Cassie? His ex? We were on the big black truck episode already?

“What?” Sam looked stunned.

“Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn't need us.” Dean’s eyes flickered to mine. “You wanna come along for this one?”

Of course I wanted to see who my husband had slept with before. Who didn’t want to meet the ex of the man they were married to? “Yeah,” I pushed my key into the ignition of the now repainted once again black bike. “Let’s roll.”

 

“Cassie said she was somewhere ‘round here.” Dean said as we walked up the stairs into an office building.

“She’s your ex,” I stated to no one in particular. Sam looked terrified.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “I was nineteen. I didn’t know I liked you like this then.”

“I’m not mad or anything.” Just that he kept in touch with her.

“We haven’t talked in years.” he tried to explain himself. But he didn’t need to.

“He really hasn’t mentioned her, ever. Just that one time when they…” Sam’s voice trailed off. But he didn’t have to cover for his brother either.

“I know. I’m not mad. I trust you.” More than I trusted myself. “Really, Dean. I know.” I gave him a smile. “You’re not the kind to cheat.”

We turned a corner and a bunch of voices were talking. We stood there patiently, waiting for them to be over.

“No, I think you're telling us what you want us to print and what you want us to sit on.” a strong female voice with a stereotypical Black accent shot.

“That’s her,” Dean whispered.

“Cassie?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,”

“I know you're upset Cassie, I liked your dad a lot. But I think your grief is clouding your judgment.” a man said, a little more authoritatively.

“Two black people were killed on the same stretch of road in the same way in two weeks.” another man said.

“Jimmy, you're too close to this. Those guys were friends of yours. Again, Cassie, I'm very sorry for your loss.”

The woman and other man backed down with a glare.

The more authoritative one walked out of the office, giving me and Dean a curt nod.

“Dean.” Cassie said as she spotted him.

“Cassie,” Dean smiled apprehensively. Dean looked away when Cassie’s brown eyes seemed to bore into his. He quickly jumped to introductions. “This is my brother Sam.” he tugged me closer by the sleeve of my flannel. “And this is my wife, Sharon.”

“Wife?” Cassie’s eyes widened slightly. “You settled?”

Dean nodded. “With her.”

“Like with a house and everything? So you’re no longer…” She lowered her voice. “Hunting?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s a hunter too.” Dean sounded proud.

I stood a little taller.

“Huh,” she smiled at me. “Don’t worry. We only dated for a couple of weeks.”

Awkward. What was I supposed to say to that?

“So, uh,” Sam came to my rescue. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

 

We ended up at her house. Dean seemed irritatingly familiar with the layout and immediately headed for the larger couch in the living room. Sam and I sat down next to him on either side, the worn out sofa groaning under the weight of the three of us.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad.” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah, me too.” Cassie said and got up. “I’ll go get something for us.”

“Beer,” Dean said immediately.

“Coffee’s fine.” Sam smiled politely.

“Water, please.” I sank into the sofa, hoping it would swallow me. Dean and Cassie didn’t want to look each other in the eye, and every time they accidentally made eye contact, they would both flinch away.

“Comin’ right up.” Cassie walked into the kitchen, her hips swaying. Damn, she looked good from the back.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, this is awkward,” he said quietly.

“Do you guys want me to handle this?” Sam asked gently.

“No. No, uh,” Dean shook his head. “It’s fine.” he shifted his gaze to mine. “If Sharon’s fine with it.”

“I’m fine with it.” I cracked my knuckles. “We’re here for a job right? I’m fine with that.”

“And then we leave.” Dean mumbled.

“My mother's in pretty bad shape.” Cassie walked back into the room, carrying a tray. Two beers, coffee, water, and four slices of pie. Pie. She knew he liked pie. And she kept pie in stock. Dean blinked eagerly at the slices. “I've been staying with her. I wish she wouldn't go off by herself. She's been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about dad.”

“Why?” Dean reached out for a slice of pie immediately.

“He was scared. He was seeing things.”

I picked up my bottle of water and Sam started sipping on his coffee.

“Like what?” Dean asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him.”

Sam sat up a little straighter. “A truck. Who was the driver?”

“He didn't talk about a driver. Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad's car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Dean popped open one of the bottles for himself. Cassie held hers out to him. Dean slowly took it from her to undo the cap and passed it back to her. Awkward.

Sam saved us all the awkwardness again. “Now you're sure this dent wasn't there before?”

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn't a scratch on that thing. It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from dad's car… leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She tipped back the bottle. “One set of tracks. His.”

“The first was a friend of your fathers?” Dean pushed another piece of pie into his mouth.

“Best friend. Clayton Soames.They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No Tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about dad. He 'lost control of his car.'” Cassie made air quotes with her fingers.

“Can you think of any reason why your father and his partner might be targets?”

“No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam asked to confirm.

“When you say it aloud like that… listen, I'm a little sceptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys are into.”

“Skeptical.” Dean snorted. “If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.” He sounded bitter.

“That was then.” Cassie protested. “I just know that I can't explain what happened up there. So I called you.”

The door unlocked and an older woman stumbled in.

Sam, Dean, and I rose to our feet. Cassie immediately rushed to the woman’s side. “Mom. Where have you been? I was so…”

“I had no idea you'd invited friends over.” The woman scanned us like we were intruders.

“Mom, this is Dean, a… friend of mine from... college. And his brother Sam. And his… wife.”

“Well I won't interrupt you.” the woman hobbled upstairs.

“Mrs Robinson. We're sorry for your loss. We'd like to talk to you for a minute if you don't mind?” Dean attempted.

“I'm really not up for that right now.” she glared back.

 

Sam, Dean, and I walked into our chilly motel room. We dumped our bags on the table and the fight for the shower ended before it even started.

Sam had sped into the bathroom, locking it behind him. Dean and I both huffed at the unfairness of the situation. He and I had to park our vehicles and lock them properly. Sam just chilled in the passenger’s seat, unless he was with Jess. Then he was a strong independent man who did everything by himself.

“Jerk!” Dean yelled.

“Bitch!” Sam yelled back, and the shower started, drowning the room in its noise.

“Are you really okay with this?” Dean asked.

I took off my boots and stretched my toes. “Yeah. Like I said, I trust you. Was it really a one night stand though?”

Dean looked down. “Not quite. We slept together only once.” He cringed. “Why am I telling you this?”

“Because I asked. And I trust you. And I want to know.” I draped myself around his large shoulders.

His hand came up to join mine, the silver of his ring clinking with the one of mine. “We dated. I suppose. Two weeks. If you can call getting coffee between her classes and between a case dating.”

“Oh.”

“It was casual.” He kept trying to defend himself. But why? Why was he being so defensive?

“Did you like her?”

He leaned his head back so we could see each other more clearly. “Not as much as you.” he tilted his head so our noses brushed against each other’s. “She was good. Nice, polite. But, uh, she wasn’t the one.”

“How did you know?”

“It didn’t click. There was the flutter of the heart or whatever romance crap and then it vanished after we slept.”

“Hm,” I squeezed him tighter. The thought of him being with another woman even in the past rubbed me the wrong way. “And it stayed with me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna make me say all that chick flick romance crap? Cause I’m not sayin’ it.”

“Come on,” I whined playfully. I sagged against him. “I’m a chick, remember? I like those sappy romances. Just say it!”

“I have a better way.” He kissed me on the lips. I closed my eyes and let him. He twisted so he was over me, and pushed me down on the bed. “You’re the only one I want screaming my name.”

I couldn’t push down the blush that crept up my cheeks. “Kinky,”

“Says you.” he smirked. “But seriously,” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. I leaned into the warmth of his touch. “It doesn’t feel right without you. Like it’s all wrong.” He brought his head down next to mine and groaned. “Can’t believe I said that.”

“No chick flick moments?”

“None, but here I am.”

“How romantic.” I laughed. The weight of him over my body was comforting. “You’ll always be with me?”

“Yeah,” he sat up so he was straddling my hips and started unbuttoning his flannel. “You’re the only one who gets it up anyway.”

I blushed at the comment. “What? We’re doing it now?” I glanced at the door behind us, and strained my ear for the man inside humming something Dean would call ‘hair rock’.

“Come on sweetheart.” he smirked. “We both know Sammy takes an hour in the shower if the water’s still hot.”

“SAM STAY INSIDE, DON’T COME OUT!” Dean yelled for good measure. “GIVE US AN HOUR.”

“WHAT THE FUCK, DEAN!” Sam yelled back, but the water poured louder, and the singing grew louder and more panicked. “FINISH FASTER.”

“QUIT YOUR BITCHING AND USE THAT PRODUCT IN YOUR HAIR.” He kissed me again. “Problem solved.” Dean mumbled against my lips, and started tugging my shirt off.

His large hands were warm. But suddenly they weren’t his hands. It was Christopher’s smooth bony ones. Twisting and pulling at my skin until they were bruised black and blue. But it couldn’t be him. No way. I looked up, hoping to ground myself in the green of Dean’s eyes, but they were that sky blue that had charmed me the first time I’d seen them. Until they weren’t so charming and full of crazed rage.

“Stop,” I pushed at his chest. “Stop it,”

The hands were immediately gone from my bare skin and tugging on layers to cover me up. “Of course,”

It was Dean’s voice. I was with him. He was here with me. I was safe.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.

I held onto his shoulder as I was picked up and placed sideways on his lap. Even after years of practice, he had put my bra back on wonky, I was pretty sure one of the hooks hadn’t been clasped properly. 

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.

I focused on the ticking clock on the other side of the room. The world slowly stopped spinning, and the white noise in my ears started fading out. I felt Dean’s lips on my head as he continued guiding me through my breathing exercise.

I looked up at him to see his green eyes locked onto mine worriedly. “You suck at dressing me.”

His left cheek wrinkled into a smirk. “I specialise in undressing.” The smirk quickly fell though. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I hopped out of his hold. “Just– not in the mood today.”

He didn’t press further. But I could feel his eyes digging holes into the back of my head even as I banged on the bathroom door.

“Sam! Get out of the shower!” I yelled. “I need the hot water!”

 

Cassie called us in for another car wreck. Sam, Dean, and I made our way through the crowd. We spotted Cassie’s chocolate coloured skin easily amongst the pale white of the others.

I recognised one of them as the authoritative man from the other day. “Close the main road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that's what they are. Accidents.”

We walked up to stand next to Cassie. “Did the cops check for additional dinting on Jimmy's car, see if it was pushed?” Dean asked.

“Who’s this?” The man looked us up and down.

“Dean, Sam, and Sharon Winchester. Family friends.” Cassie introduced. “This is Mayor Harold Todd.”

The Mayor seemed content with the answer. “There's one set of tire tracks. One. . doesn't point to foul play.” he answered.

“Mayor, the police and town officials take their cues from you. If you're indifferent about…” Cassie continued pressing.

“Indifferent!” the Mayor gasped.

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?”

I frowned. Not everything had to do with racism. People were sometimes mean, just because. There were quite a few people who absolutely hated my guts and they had been from the same community as me. And the people closest to me were often not even Asian. Race wasn’t everything to disliking a person.

“You suggesting I'm racist Cassie?” The Mayor glowered. “I'm the last person you should talk to like that.”

“And why is that?” Cassie challenged.

“Why don't you ask your mother.” He spat.

 

I buttoned my suit up and slipped my tie through the knot. “She accused the Mayor of racism.” I wondered aloud. “She’s got guts.”

“I agree, she’s fearless.” Sam nodded.

“Mm-hmm.” Dean simply hummed. “Dammit.” he cursed when the tie refused to slide all the way up to his neck.

“Here,” I ushered him over to me. “She still likes you.” I watched Dean for his reaction.

“Does she?” He looked uncomfortable. “Cause it didn’t feel like that to me.”

“She checks you out when you look away.” Sam expertly slid his tie into place. “Where’s my socks?”

“Fresh ones are in the laundry bag.” I fixed Dean’s tie and patted his firm chest. His heart sped under my touch. “Was it not a good breakup?”

His face was blank when he answered. “Don’t you know already?”

Not gonna lie. It kind of hurt.

 

We walked down a pier where two old men were fishing. I trailed behind Dean along with Sam who constantly shot me sympathetic looks. But I was fine.

“Excuse me. Are you Ron Stubbins?” Dean said to the two older men.

One of the men nodded.

“Were you friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Sam asked as well.

“Who are you?” Ron demanded.

“We're Mr Anderson's insurance company. We're just here to dot 'I's' and cross 'T's'.” Dean lied swiftly.

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam continued.

“What do you mean, unusual?” Ron squinted suspiciously.

“Well visions, hallucinations.”

“It's part of a medical examination kind of thing. All very standard.” Dean threw in with a thin smile.

“What company did you say you were with?”

“All National Mutual.” I provided before the brothers butchered the name.

Dean tilted his head in my direction. “Yep. So tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

Awesome question. Not weird at all.

“What the hell you talking about? You even speaking English?” Ron snorted.

“Son, this truck,” The other man said. “A big scary monster looking thing?”

Dean jumped at the sentence. “Yeah actually, I think so.”

The man hummed.

“What?”

“I have heard of a truck like that.”

“You have.” Sam got excited. “Where?”

“Not where. When. Back in the '60s there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

Dean nodded. “They ever catch the guy who did it?”

The man shook his head. “Never found him. Hell, not sure they even really looked. See there was a time, this town wasn't too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you.” Sam said.

The three of us turned away and walked back to our rides.

“Truck.” Dean stated.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam sighed.

“You know, I was thinking.” Dean paused in his tracks to look at me and Sam directly. “You heard of the flying dutchman?”

“Ghost ship.” I provided.

“Infused with the Captain's evil spirit. It was basically part of him.” Sam added.

Dean nodded in acknowledgement. “So what if we're dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard's ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have all been black men.”

“I think it's more than that. They all seem connected to Cassie and her family.”

Sam glanced at me and then Dean. “Do you guys want me to work that angle?”

“I’m kinda tired.” I leaned against my bike and fiddled with the keys. “Dean can work it by himself, right?”

Sam looked horrified at the idea. “What? But–”

“They need to sort things out too. Feelings and all that.” I brought my leg to the other side.

“Sharon.” Dean started. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

“There is.” I stared at him. “You need to get her to understand you’re never going back to her. She thinks she still has a chance. Whether she realises it or not.”

He frowned. “No she doesn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“She dumped you.” Sam suddenly cut in. “Oh my god. She dumped you .”

Dean looked at the ground and sighed. “So what?”

“Why?” Sam questioned.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“So find out.” I put on my helmet. “Don’t come back to me till she knows.” I pointed to the ring on his finger. “You’re mine.”

 

“You’re mine.” Sam repeated from across the table.

I threw an unused tissue in his direction. He laughed. “I didn’t know you said cheesy things like that.”

“I don’t.” I picked at the pasta that had been served to me. The alfredo was making my stomach cramp. “I need him to figure out that stupid relationship with Cassie.”

“You’re jealous.”

I frowned at him. “Like you wouldn’t be if Jess suddenly met up with her high school ex and had to go on a business trip with him.” The pasta better be worth the sleepless night coming.

“That’s… oddly specific.”

“Ya think?” I waved my hands at the diner we were at. “Dude, Dean’s literally on a business trip with his ex. In her house .”

Sam nodded in amusement. “You sent him there. But in a way, you’re right.”

“Yeah. And if this were a novel. Then there’s gonna be a super bad storm or something, and then Dean will be forced to spend the night at her house. And then the electricity will go out and Cassie will want comfort, so she’ll go to Dean’s bedroom, and then–” Okay, that was putting unpleasant images in my head. “Never mind.” I felt my stomach churn as I pushed in another spoon.

“Should you be eating that?” Sam watched me eat.

I waved off his worries. “I’m lactose intolerant. Not allergic. I’ll live.”

“Alfredo is mostly milk.”

“I know. The taste is worth it. I’m never giving up chicken alfredo pasta. Or pizza.” I almost cringed at the salad he was eating. “And you’re really vegetarian?”

“I’m not veg etarian.” Sam mumbled. “I just eat healthy. You could be an almond mom with the number of nuts you’ve been consuming.”

I frowned. “Fair.” I swallowed the last one I could stomach without throwing up and pushed my plate away. “Man, I’m done.”

“Leftovers for Dean?”

I nodded. “Always.”

Sam continued munching on his leaves. He offered me an olive and I bit into the heaven of flavour.

“Dean’s not over her, is he?”

Sam paused. “Sharon–”

“I know. He’s loyal. To a fault. But still… I get the feeling he wished things worked out with her.”

“He likes you .” Sam emphasised.

“He dated her for two weeks.” I picked at my nails. There was olive oil collected under it.

“It’s the first long term relationship he ever had. Surely he felt something for her. And– I don’t know. There’s something going on. Like he’s unsatisfied with how he left her. Or that he wishes things could be different, you know.”

I called over the waiter. “We’ll have three bacon cheese burgers to go. With a caesar salad on the side. And can y’all give me a take out container? For this?”

“Of course. Would you like a bag with that?” The waitress chirped.

“Oh, yes please.” I watched Sam start putting on his jacket. “It’ll take another few minutes for the burgers.”

“I know. I’m gonna go get some beer.” He stood up. “There was a store right next to this place. Might grab some whiskey too.”

“Awesome. Meet me back here?”

“Yep.” And with that, I was left alone to deal with the annoying grumble of my stomach. I licked my lips to get some of the sauce off my mouth. Yep, it was worth it.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

Cassie looked up from her work when she heard the sharp knock on her door. She cautiously walked up to it and cracked it open. She relaxed when she realised who it was.

“Dean!”

“Hey,”

“Hey, come on in.” she motioned for him to join her at the table in the lounge.

Dean looked around at the piles of paper on the table. The mess reminded him of the day he picked up Sharon to go search for his Dad together. The day he’d dragged her away from the semi-normal life she’d been leading. The papers strewn all across the floor and all the surfaces of Bobby’s house. But Cassie was more organised. He didn’t have any blue flowers sticking to his shoes. “So… you busy, or…”

“The paper's doing a tribute to Jimmy. I was just going through his stuff…” Cassie’s shoulders stiffened as she kept her composure. “His awards. Trying to find the words.”

“That's gotta be tough.” he sympathised.

“For years this family owned the paper. The Dorians? They had a whites only policy. After they sold it Jimmy became the first black reporter. He didn't stop till he became editor. He taught me everything…” she trailed off and averted her eyes. “Where's your brother? And Sharon?”

Dean shrugged. “Not here.”

“All right.” Cassie said slowly. “So, uh, what brings you here?”

“Trying to find the connection between the three victims.” He shifted his weight. Why was he even here? He should be back having dinner with Sam and Sharon. “By the way, did you talk to your mom about what Todd said about not being a racist?”

“I did. She didn't want to talk about it.”

“Right.”

“Is there a reason you came here alone?” Cassie took a small step closer.

Dean took a small step back. “Sharon was tired. Sam decided to accompany her. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. It wasn't important.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t like how dodgy she was being. ‘She still likes you’. Did she still like him? “Could it be because, without them here it's just you and me? Not you, me, Sharon and Sam, which would be easier?”

“It's not easier… Look, I…”

“No. Forget it. It's fine. We don’t have to talk about anything.” Even though he was here to talk. “We'll keep it strictly business.”

Cassie stared at him. “I forgot you do that.”

Dean looked at her confused. “Do what?”

“Oh. Whenever we get, what's the word...close? Anywhere in the neighbourhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off. Or make some joke. Or find any way to shut the door on me.”

“Oh that's hilarious.” Dean barked out a laugh. “See, I'm not the one who took that big final door and slammed it behind me.”

“Ok wait a minute…”

“And I'm not the one who took the key and buried it.”

“We done with this metaphor?”

Dean inhaled sharply. Sharon would have gone along with the metaphor. “All I'm saying is, I was totally up front with you back then, and you nailed me for it.”

“The guy I'm with, the guy I'm hoping might be in my future, tells me he professionally pops ghosts and has a girl waiting for him back home.” She accused.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend at the time. And those are not the words I used!”

“And that he has to leave, to go work with his father.”

“I did!” He was starting to get angry.

“You sounded like you were using me as a rebound! A way to forget her! All I could think was, if you want out, fine, but don't tell me this insane story.”

He got threateningly close to her. “It was the truth Cassie, and I notice it didn't sound insane the minute you thought I could help you.”

“Well back then I thought you just wanted to dump me.” She glared defiantly back at him. Her attitude reminded him of her.

“Now let's not forget who dumped who, okay?” He reminded.

“Yeah, and now you’re back.” Cassie took a step towards him. His back hit the table. “You came here alone for a reason. You and I slept together once, but now you’re with another woman. And yet here you are, alone. With me. In my empty house.”

Dean swallowed. Her brown eyes looked like Sharon’s. That was why he’d even been interested in Cassie in the first place. She looked like her, the woman that couldn’t love him the way he would have liked. “No, Cassie. I’m with her now.” He felt around for a way to escape. “Cassie. I don’t want to use force. Not on you.”

Cassie’s eyes drifted to his hands that were balling into fists. She backed off. “You always did like her. Even when we were dating.”

“What?”

“But you know what, Dean. I truly liked you. I really did. And I tried to make it work.”

He remained silent. He knew she was right.

“Did you ever truly love me?”

He didn’t have an answer.

“That’s what I thought.” Cassie walked away and sat down in the chair she was originally sitting on. “Did she ask you to talk to me?”

“She did.” Dean remained standing. “She said to tell you I was done.”

“Do you really like her?” Cassie’s voice had gone quieter.

“I do.” He took off his ring and showed her the inside. “We got married almost three years ago.”

Cassie pressed her lips together as she read the words engraved inside. It wasn’t her name. And no matter how much she wished it was, it would never be her, it never was. “Sorry.” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for us to end that way.”

“Yeah, me neither.” he slipped the ring back on.

“Tell Sharon I said sorry.”

“I will.” he walked to the door. “Goodbye Cassie.”

“Goodbye Dean.”

 

Cassie was right. He never loved her the way she’d loved him. He liked her, just enough. He’d liked her enough that he was willing to give a relationship with her a try. He’d hoped that with time, he would actually fall for her, and forget the woman back in Bobby’s house that read to him almost every night. But despite having basically the same features other than their hair and skin tone, he didn’t manage to feel the same attraction. And what little had been there disappeared the night they had sex. She wasn’t the one he wanted screaming his name. She wasn’t the one he wanted to be held by.

He got in the car and groaned at the tightness in his jeans. Fuck. He’d thought too much. Was Sharon even in the mood for sex? Dammit. He twisted the key into the ignition and felt the familiar jolt of Baby coming to life.

Now, he needed her. He wanted to sink his hips into hers and feel her flesh against his. Could he get them a separate motel room?

He sped down the road, dismissing the speed limits. He parked in front of their room and got out of the car, his hands fumbling with the keys as he locked Baby and unlocked the door to their room in rapid succession.

His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“Oh, hi.” I looked up at the man that had just entered through the door.

Dean crossed the room with his long strides and immediately knelt at my side. “What happened, sweetheart?” I lifted the flannel I’d stolen from his duffel to reveal an angry slash across my waist.

“Some guy was trying to force a woman to go with him. I called the police but they didn’t seem to wanna do anything so I provoked the guy until he did something to me so I could claim self defence. Just didn’t expect a knife.”

Dean’s hands ghosted over the cut. I hissed when his hand made contact with the edge. “Sorry.” he let go. “I’ll get the bandages.

Sam appeared out of the bathroom with the dental floss. “Oh you’re here.”

Dean glared at his brother. “And you let this happen, Sam?”

Sam looked guilty.

“It’s not his fault.” I defended the poor boy. “He was getting beer. I was in the diner. It’s my fault if I just burst out by myself.”

“Fucking hell.” he looked angrily at the cut. “Don’t do that again.”

“It’s just a flesh wound.” I mumbled as he rushed around the room gathering a needle and a glass of whiskey to disinfect it.

Sam dipped his hands into the glass of whiskey and prepared the needle. I lay down on the towels spread over the bed and looked away from the needle.

Dean sat next to my head, right in line with my vision. “So? Who was the bastard?”

I took in a shaky breath when the needle pierced my skin. “Some guy. I don’t know. It was a Black guy. Called the woman a racist for not wanting to sleep with him.”

“Douchebag.” Dean spat.

“I know. It’s not always about racism. No means no.” Christopher’s face flashed in my mind. I brought my arm over my mouth. “Slow-slow down Sammy. Needle’s too fast.” The pricking and burning sensation were starting to get overwhelming.

“Faster I get this over with, the faster you can get moving.”

“Fine.” I closed my eyes and tok steady breaths. “What did Cassie say?”

“We’re done.” Dean answered.

I looked up at him. “So you did have feelings for her.”

“No.” he sighed. “I never did.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He frowned. “Why do you women doubt me so much?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Your porn addiction?” I moved my foot to hit his.

“Sharon, stop moving.” Sam reminded me.

“Sorry, sorry.” I tried not to laugh despite the burning sensation.

“She told me to tell you she was sorry.” Dean finally answered.

“Tell her I forgive her.”

“What am I? The mailman?” he snorted.

I felt a tug on my skin. “Done.” Sam said and stood up.

I twisted my neck so I could see the needlework. “You really should be a seamstress.”

A pillow was thrown in my face. “Shut up. If I’m the seamstress, then you’re my pincushion.”

“Only one pin goes into her. It’s mine and it’s not thin.”

Sam and I gasped, mortified at Dean’s comment. “Dean!”

 

I was woken up by a shake of the shoulder. “What time is it…?”

“To work.” Dean threw the covers off my form.

I frowned and curled up into an even tighter ball. Damn, it was so cold.

“It’s snowing. Wear your coat.” Sam said as he rushed by.

I groaned. “Goddammit.”

Dean wouldn’t let me drive in the snow. And Sam agreed. Traitor. I gingerly waded through the snowy road. My poor boots were gonna be soaking by the time this was over.

Sam, Dean, and I flashed our trooper badges.

“So, what happened?” Dean asked the cops.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organ's turned to pudding. The cops are all stumped, it's like something ran him over.”

“Something like a truck?”

“Yeah, actually.” the cop turned around to say something to the other one. “You are welcome to view the scene.”

“Thank you.” Sam nodded politely.

“Let’s look for tracks.” Dean started walking to the middle of the field, closer to where the Mayor had been found.

I kept a straight face at the bloodied snow. Poor man. But just as I’d expected. There were no tracks.

“No tracks!” Sam hollered.

“I got nothin’!” Dean answered as well.

“Same here!” I called back.

The three of us trudged back up to the car to discuss. “Why was the Mayor here?” I couldn’t help but stare at the red snow.

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago.” Sam answered.

“I thought you were supposed to know that.” Dean said.

I looked down at my feet. “I don’t know everything. Sorry. I completely forgot he died.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” Dean placed a hand on my shoulder. “But he's white, he doesn't fit the pattern.”

“Killing didn't happen up on the road. That doesn't fit either.” Sam pointed out.

Dean looked up at me. “Maybe it’s not always about racism.”

 

Sam and I flitted through piles upon piles of paperwork while Dean worked the computer.

Sam motioned us over. “Ok, the courthouse records show that Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family for, like, 150 years.” he pointed to a certificate confirming their purchase.

“Dorian?” Dean leaned in closer. “Weren’t they the family that used to own the paper?”

I nodded. “Yeah, Cassie mentioned them.”

Dean shifted back to type on the computer. “Look at this.” Sam and I leaned over his shoulders. “This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of '63.The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then.”

“I think I saw something on the Dorians.” I sifted through the files I’d been looking at before coming across a dusty worn out one. “Here. The first thing he did was bulldoze the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean said mockingly.

“There’s a few news articles about it.” I showed them the clippings that had been added to the court documents. “Bro made front page.”

“Dates?”

“3rd of last month.” Sam muttered. “The first killing was the very next day.”

 

“Cassie?” I heard Dean mutter sleepily from next to me. I craned my neck up to look at what they were talking about.

His eyes met mine apologetically.

‘It’s fine.’ I mouthed.

He frowned as Cassie continued to speak on the other side. He sat up straight. “We’re coming, right away.”

What?

 

“I need something stronger.” Cassie said shakily when we got her a beer from the fridge.

“There’s whiskey in the trunk.” Dean got up. “I’ll go get it.”

Cassie sank down on the couch next to me. “You alright?” I asked her.

“No.” she looked frantic. “There was a truck outside my house . Trying to break through the walls!”

“Right.” I would be terrified of that too. “Um. I’m not good with comforting words, but… we’re here.” Cassie nodded. I couldn’t even say ‘you’ll be okay’. Stupid Angel. “You’re gonna have to stay strong.” I told her. “Just breathe.” On the other sofa, her mother seemed to be taking my advice. She had a cup of tea quaking in her bony fingers. Like Christopher’s hands. I had to remind myself he wasn’t here. Forget about him.

“I am.” she snapped. She quickly apologised. “Sorry, I–”

“It’s fine. Nerves tend to do that.” I’d snapped at those worried about me my fair share too.

The four of us in the room took our time getting settled. Dean soon walked in with a bottle of whiskey in hand. Cassie immediately reached for it. She twisted the cap off without help and chugged down a good amount. “Ask your questions.” she said, slamming the bottle on the table. Damn. She was good. I always did like her most out of all of Dean’s hookups.

“You didn't see who was driving the truck?” Sam asked.

“It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone. Why didn't it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first.” Dean noted.

“Mrs Robinson,” Sam said gently. The lady looked up fearfully. “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.”

She opened her mouth but no words came out.

“Mom?” Cassie whispered. “Please, we need to know.”

“Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress.” She was lying. “You can't be sure about what he was seeing.”

Dean got into interrogator mode. “Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok? Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

I placed a hand on his arm to keep him from flying off at the poor lady.

Mrs. Robinson started rambling. “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

Sam took over the questioning. “Did he know who it belonged to?”

“He thought he did.”

“Who?”

“Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

‘Cyrus’. That name. I pulled out an article clipping.

“Is that Cyrus?” Sam continued.

“Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.” Mrs. Robinson closed her eyes at the memory.

Dean jumped at the inconsistency in statements. “How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson? The paper's said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

“We were all very young. I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin… in secret of course. Inter-racial couples didn't go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don't know, he changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.” She shuddered.

“The murders.” Sam realised.

She nodded. “There were rumours. People of colour disappearing into some kind of a truck. Nothing was ever done. Martin and- Martin and I, we were gonna be married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn't want the attention.”

“And Cyrus?”

“The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church.” She burst into tears. “There was a children's choir practising in there. They all died.”

“Did the attacks stop after that?”

“No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him, something terrible. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

Cassie walked over to her mother and pulled her into a hug. “Mom,” she whispered soothingly. I’d never done that for my mother. And now I regretted it. I should have been nicer, should have expressed my love for her instead of bottling it all up.

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean asked next.

Mrs. Robinson continued to cry even as she confessed. “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus' body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone.” Sam told her.

“And so is Mayor Todd. Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man. He was a young Deputy back then investigating Cyrus' disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he… he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

Cassie’s voice shook. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I thought I was protecting them. And now there's no one left to protect.”

“There is.” I looked at Cassie who had silent tears on her cheeks.

Mrs. Robinson clung onto her and continued crying.

 

The three of us leaned against Baby’s hood, waiting for the big black truck to show up again. If it did. My memories of the episodes were fading with time. What luck.

Sam started lamenting. “My life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms.”

Dean huffed. “Well I guess I saved you from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring.” Sam looked at me. “I bet you miss boring too.”

“My life was never boring.” I waved my purple phone in front of his face. “Have you seen the fanfics downloaded on this thing?”

“Oh, right.” Sam rolled his eyes playfully. “I forgot. You’re crazy. And your friends just as much.”

“So this killer truck.” Dean started.

Only to be cut off by Sam groaning. “I miss conversations that didn't start with 'this killer truck'.”

Dean cracked a smile. “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?”

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction.”

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless.”

“Like that one theatre in Illinois.” I piped.

“Mm-hmm.” Dean hummed. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus' murder quiet and unsolved.”

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood.” Sam shivered in the cold breeze.

“Yeah I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway.” Dean started pacing back and forth.

“This’ll be fun.” I was pretty sure there was a high speed chase at some point. Who didn’t wanna experience that at least once in their lives?

“You know we're going to have to dredge that body up from the swamp right?” Sam looked at me teasingly.

I showed off my boots. “I’m wearing waterproof today.”

“So.” Dean tossed and caught his keys again. “We going or what?”

 

I drove our stolen borrowed tractor further away from the edge of the swamp. The machine groaned at the weight of the truck it was pulling up. 

“A bit more… keep coming… slow down! A tiny bit more… Alright, stop!” Sam called.

I killed the engine and jumped off the tall thing.

“That's it?” I looked at the ‘big black truck’. It might have been big for its time, but by the 2020s Texas standard for big trucks, this thing was a fetus still in its mother’s womb.

“Yep.” Dean opened the door to the truck, and a decayed body stared back at us.

I crinkled my nose at the stench. “We went from digging up graves to urban fishing for evil truck coffins.”

“When you put it like that…” Sam cringed.

I shrugged. “I’ve texted weirder to my friends.”

“Let’s get this done.” Dean was in business mode.

We salted and burnt the corpse. We watched it burn to ashes. I looked around. Wasn’t the truck supposed to appear? And try to kill us? Where was it? We stood around for a few more minutes, enjoying the heat from the fire in the chilly night. Okay, so no car. Maybe that had been for TV highlights. All good shows needed at least one high speed chase, right?

I yawned. I checked my watch. 2:00AM. Really? Dude. I was ready to sleep. “I’m four hours past my bedtime. I call shotgun.”

Sam frowned. “Hey!”

I dragged my feet through the mud and settled into the passenger side.

“Come on Sammy.” Dean said with a chuckle as he got into the driver’s side. “Or we’ll leave you here and you can drive that truck back!”

A loud growl caught us off guard. I reached for my gun in my back pocket. What was it? I hissed when a pair of headlights shone directly into my eyes. My retinas burned as I tried to adjust to the sudden light.

“Shit, Dean! Sharon!” Sam yelled from outside the car.

Dean stuck his head out when the engine of the truck roared again. “That piece of crap! You gotta burn it!” Dean yelled.

“How the hell am I supposed to burn a truck?!” Sam cried.

“I don’t know figure something out!” Dean turned to me. “Hold onto your hat, sweetheart.”

“Hat? What hat– ah!” I was thrown forwards when Dean put Baby in reverse and slammed on the accelerator. Was it high speed chase time? But I didn’t actually want to be in the car when it happened!

“Come on, Baby!” Dean patted the steering wheel and shifted to drive.

Suddenly I was plastered against the seat, trying to breathe even with the million Gs on my chest. “Oh my God.” I gasped. I gripped onto the sides to keep myself from being thrown about. “We need to get seat belts in this thing.”

“No, they’ll make her ugly.” Dean retorted. His eyes moved away from the road to the rearview mirror. The truck was right behind us. “Come on, come on, come on.” He pressed harder. “You can do it, Baby.” he encouraged the car. I glanced at the speedometer. We were going 130 miles per hour. That was Baby’s max speed.

The phone rang. I pulled it out of Dean’s pocket. “Hello, Sammy. Did you burn the truck yet?”

“I can’t. It’s too damp. Give me a minute.”

I gasped when the truck managed to brush against the Impala. “I don’t think we have a minute.” How far had we gone?

“It’s gonna get a bit rough, sweetheart.” Dean’s hand drifted to my thigh to keep me from being thrown around.

“Hands on the wheel.” I smacked his hand away. “What you got Sammy?”

“I’ll get back to you.”

“Get back to me? Sammy!” I shrieked into the phone.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean slammed the wheel. His brows were pulled together in concentration as he tried to dodge the hits from the stupid truck. My heart raced at the craziness of the situation. It had been fun to watch on TV, but in reality? Hell nah.

“Will salt work?” I asked. How had I not thought of this before?

“Our salt bullets are too small for that.” Dean grunted as the car swerved. “Shit.”

I did my best to not fall onto Dean and bother his driving. Holy shit.

The truck knocked against us again. I let go of the sides of the car when it scraped against the barriers of the highway. Right below us was what seemed to be a frigging cliff. If we fell into that, we would die for sure. “Cliff on the right.” I said.

“Fuck.” Dean cursed. “Okay. Feet on the dash.” He said.

“What?”

“Just do it!”

“Okay!” I braced my muddy boots on the scuffed dashboard. Dean suddenly turned the wheel to force Baby into the other lane and slammed on the breaks. My knees jolted as they absorbed most of the impact. His hand shot out to keep my head from banging against anything and the truck zoomed past. “Damn.” I breathed. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean and I panted. But we straightened up again. We could hear the roaring that had grown distant start to get louder again.

“That son of a bitch is coming back.” Dean said and spun the wheel to take a U turn.

And it was back angrier. My phone finally rang again and I picked up. “Bro you better have something or I will kill you.”

“Where are you?” Sam asked.

“Uh. I don't know. The middle of the road in the middle of nowhere with a murderous truck tailgating and rear ending us?!”

“No, no. I need exact location. This is important.”

“Important my a– my neck! How the fu– heck am I supposed to know! Am I google maps?!” I looked around for a sign. Anything. “Decatur Road!” I read the sign we zoomed past. I grunted as we were rear ended once more.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean cursed again.

“Okay, headed East?”

“Dean, are we heading East?”

“Learn to read a map, woman! Yes!”

“Shut up you man child! We’re going East, Sam! You better have something!”

“Who are you calling a man child?!”

“Go right.”

“Go right!”

Our wheels skidded as Dean did a quarter of a donut to skid into a right turn. The truck too followed, but it was slightly behind us now. Though it was catching up quick.

“Did you turn?”

“Oh my God, Sam, yes!” I said through gritted teeth.

“Okay, do you see a left?”

“The truck is on our left!” I got a look into the truck. No driver. The truck started brushing against Baby again. Shit. Fuck. Hell. Bitch. We were gonna die.

“Go left.”

“I just said the truck is on our left!” But we had to take the turn. “Dean take a left!”

“How?!” Dean yelled but managed to break enough for the truck to cross us again and then quickly slammed the accelerator. I was thrown against the right window as we managed to go left.

“Now where?!”

“Seven tenths of a mile. And stop.”

Right. The Church grounds. “Seven tenths of a mile. And stop.” I told Dean.

“Stop?!” he shrieked.

“Yes, stop!”

“Seven tenths, seven tenths.” Dean mumbled his eyes on the odometer. He spun the wheel 360 degrees and the two of us went slamming into Baby’s sides. Once the car was facing the direction we’d just come from, Dean let one hand off the wheel. “You okay?” He tugged me over by the sleeve.

I settled in the middle of the bench. “Yeah.” I rubbed my shoulder where it got hit. “You’re bleeding.”

He raised his hand to the wound. “Just a scratch.” I pulled out a couple of fragile tissues from my pocket and pressed them to his forehead. He winced at the touch but let me hold pressure.

“Wait, what? You guys okay?” Sam said from the other side.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” I held the phone in one hand and stared at the road.

“What’s happening?” Sam asked.

“Just staring at us.” My heart hammered against my chest. The truck continued staring down at us with its bright headlights from in between the posts, revving its engine louder and louder.

“What do we do?” Dean said a little loudly.

I held the phone up to his ear. Sam said something, and that sent Dean’s eyes flying to mine. “What?”

The tires of the truck screeched. Dean let go of the wheel and wrapped his arms around me. He pulled me against the crook of his neck and covered me with his body, as if he could absorb the impact from the truck crushing the Impala. His heart raced just like mine. We could die. Just in case Sam’s plan didn’t work out like it did in the show, I held onto Dean. If we were gonna die, I would like for us to die with each other.

He held me tighter when the truck finally sped up in our direction. I couldn’t take my eyes off the blinding lights of the ghost truck even as it blinded us with each inch in our direction. Then, right before impact, the truck disappeared into thin air.

“Dean? Sharon? You guys there?” Sam said from the phone.

Dean took the phone from my shaking hands and spoke breathlessly. “Where’d it go?… What church!”

Sam explained the situation to Dean. I heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the man that still held me tightly. He shouted angrily into the phone, but his hand was rubbing comforting circles into my side. He threw the phone to the backseat.

“Well it honestly didn't occur to me.” He mimicked mockingly. “I’m gonna kill him!”

Despite my panic, I laughed. “Let’s get back first. Baby might need new tires though.”

 

I tried to balance my bike while Dean talked to Cassie.

“My mother says to tell you thanks again.” Cassie said with a smile.

Dean nodded.

“And… Thank you Dean. For everything.”

“Yeah,” he turned back to see a gently smiling Sam. “Goodbye Cassie.”

“Goodbye Dean.” She paused to wave at me. “This is more permanent than the last one, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean exhaled slowly. “You take care of yourself.”

“You guys too. I wish you two all the best.” She turned around and disappeared from view.

“So where are we going next?” I asked Dean when he came back to the driver’s side.

“I kind of wanted to head South.” he settled into his seat. “I was thinking Oklahoma?”

I nodded and put my earphones in. “See you there?”

“Yep.” Rock music blasted from the Impala, drowning out the synth beats of my earphones. “RACE YOU THERE!” Dean yelled.

“YOU’RE ON!”

Notes:

I had quite a few things planned for this chapter, but sadly not everything fit into the scenes. I'll be sprinkling things here and there as best as I can. EXPECT ANGST FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER.
I have decided to talk to hot guy about the neuro exam. And he sat so close to me for the o chem exam. Like yall it's not fair. I don't wanna come across as creepy to him. But I'll try talking to him tomorrow. We'll see.

Chapter 20: Nightmare

Summary:

"I squeezed Sam’s hand. “Sam, we’re gonna make sure everyone’s safe.”
He nodded. “Thanks, Sharon.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. PTSD kind of
2. Christopher so non-con
3. suicidal thoughts. again.
Sorry for the late update. I just wasn't stressed enough the past few days to write fanfic. But o chem grades just landed and I got less than a 40% hahahaha. so yeah I'm stressed and started writing again. Did I mention I got 'saved' last week by a patient's family member? So I'm semi Christian now? He told me to get baptised cause I let Jesus into my life and needed to get the next key or smth but meh.

"You're not gonna sleep?" Dean mumbled from next to me.

"I wanna finish typing this." I pushed my glasses back up my nose.

"What even is that?" He squinted, lifting his head a little. He'd tucked his head against my hip and wrapped his arms around my hips.

I shut the laptop screen halfway and frowned. "Don't go sneaking on a woman's laptop."

"There's nothing for you to hide." he snorted. He yawned.

"Go back to sleep." I ran my hand through his hair.

He hummed in pleasure. His shoulders slowly went slack with sleep and his arms turned into protective dead weights around my waist. I leaned down to kiss the wrinkles on his forehead away. Didn't want him to look like an old man. I continued typing on my laptop. Things were starting to get interesting.

Sam suddenly jerked violently on the other bed. I glanced at him. Had it just been a hypnic jerk? Or was he actually struggling?

I gave him a few minutes. He kicked his leg out again and his hands clutched at his chest. Okay, that wasn't a hypnic jerk.

"Sam?" I called from the bed. I put my laptop down and removed Dean's arms. "Sammy." I said again. He continued gasping for air. "Sammy, wake up." I shook his shoulder. "Sammy!"

His eyes snapped open and his hands swung out to push me onto the floor. I landed with a grunt when my head hit the side of the bed. "Ouch!" I hissed. I felt around for any blood, but there was none. Good. "Sammy?" I looked up at the tall man who was looking around frantically.

"Sammy!" Dean said. His voice was groggy but firm. "Focus!"

I sat up straight on the musty motel floor. Dean tugged on my arm to pull me up. I sat down on the bed and let Dean take over the confused Winchester.

"Sammy, you have to tell us. Is something wrong?"

Sam gasped for breaths and swallowed dryly. "We have to go."

"What?"

"We have to go. Right now." Sam repeated. He leapt out of bed and grabbed his bags. "Come on! Now!"

Dean and I followed him. Was it another nightmare? Another vision?

Dean and I very illegally split the lane between us. The slightest bit of movement and the side of Baby would ram me off the road, but the two of us decided it was better to keep an eye on Sam.

Sam finished his conversation with the person on the other side of the phone. "Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address? Got it. Thanks."

He turned to talk to Dean. "Checks out. How far are we?"

"From Saginaw? Coupla hours." Dean answered.

Sam turned back to me. "Can you keep up?"

I gave him a thumbs up. "I'll be right behind y'all."

Dean cursed under his breath when we finally entered Saginaw. There was a bunch of police cars and emergency services surrounding a house.

Sam checked the address and compared the number against the number on the garage of the house. They were the same.

"Stay with him." Dean whispered to me.

I nodded and walked behind Sam as he slowly made his way to the crowd.

Dean was already asking the crowd for information. "What happened?"

"Suicide. Can't believe it." a woman answered.

Sam steeled his shoulders, and asked. "Did you know them?"

"Saw him every Sunday at St Augustines. He always seems… seemed, so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors." the woman wiped a tear.

"Guess not." Dean watched the responders zip up the body in a body bag and take it away.

"How did… uhh. How are they saying it happened?" Sam whispered.

"I heard they found him in the garage, locked inside his car with the engine running." another woman answered.

"Do you know about what time they found him?"

"Oh it just happened about an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

A woman and man held onto each others and cried. Sam winced at the sight and turned back around.

"Sam." I followed him. I could hear Dean's heavy footsteps behind me. "Sam, this isn't your fault. We got here as fast we could."

Sam whipped around with his brows pulled together. "Not fast enough. It doesn't make any sense. Why would I even have these premonitions if there wasn't a chance I could stop them from happening?"

I asked myself that everyday. What was the point of me being here if I couldn't save anyone? "I don't know." I answered. It was the truth. "We just have to do our best. And that's what we did."

Sam shook his head, rejecting my answer. "No, there has to be a reason." He paced around the Impala. "So what do you think killed him?"

Dean answered this time. "Maybe the guy just killed himself? Maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."

"I'm telling you man, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. I watched it trap him in the garage."

Dean kept his voice steady. "What was it, a spirit, poltergeist, what?"

"I don't know what it was." Sam's voice rose in pitch and grew more frantic. "I don't know why I'm having these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening."

"Sammy," I grabbed his arm. "Breathe."

"I am!" he tried to force his arm away.

I held on tighter. "Slowly. You're gonna pass out and be of no help if you don't. So breathe slowly." I slowed my breathing and forced Sam to look me in the eyes. Slowly, his breathing steadied and the muscles where I was holding him grew less tense. "Good. you did good." I patted his arm before letting go.

Sam scowled. "Tell Dean to stop looking at me like that."

"What?" Dean frowned. "I'm not looking at you like anything." He looked away, but his eyes flickered back to Sam. "Though I gotta say, you do look like crap."

"Nice." Sam scoffed. "Thanks."

Dean opened the car door. "Come on, let's just pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, talk to the family."

Sam held his arm in the direction of the man and woman still sobbing on the front step. "Dean, you saw them, they're devastated. They're not going to want to talk to us."

"Disguise time?" I asked.

Dean grinned. "Oh yeah. You and I are gonna love this one."

"Oh my God." Sam muttered.

 

"Hey, Sharon?"

I let Dean press his chest against my back, the two of us facing Sam moving restlessly in his bed. "Hm?"

"He's not gonna get any sleep like that." He whispered.

"Should I… read him a book? Lullaby?"

"I'm not a baby." Sam grunted from his bed. "You two go to sleep. I just… need a minute."

"Clearly you're not gonna sleep." Dean pushed himself up and flipped the bedside lamp on. "Beer?"

Sam glanced at me as if asking for permission. I shrugged. "You're not a kid. You're legally allowed to drink now."

Sam held out his hand as Dean passed him a bottle, taking one for himself. "Cheers to another sleepless night."

Sam chugged it down quick, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning against the headboard. Dean sat beside him, his own bottle still in hand. I grabbed a book and settled in next to him.

"I told you I'm not a baby." Sam insisted.

"Mhm." I opened up the book to a random page and started reading.

It didn't take long for Sam to start nodding off. Dean expertly helped his body onto the bed in a more comfortable sleeping position.

"'Night Sammy." he pulled the covers up to his chin.

Dean and I got back to our own bed and ducked under the covers. I flicked the light switch off, drowning the three of us in darkness.

"And you're okay?" Dean whispered.

"I'm fine." I pressed my nose against his chest. He smelled like cheap motel soap from his shower, but it was comforting.

"He's talking like you did."

"When I first got here? Yeah," I gripped Dean's large arms. They were solid, grounding. He held me tighter. "We're gonna get through this. We always do." But things were starting to fall apart.

 

"Where's my nun head cover thingy!" I shrieked when it wasn't with the rest of my black outfit.

"The word you're looking for is veil." Sam provided. Uselessly.

"I'm trynna find something important here!"

"Check in Dean's underwear pocket!"

"Dude, there's like three fraying pieces of fabric in that pocket– oh. EW." I gingerly plucked out my veil from the threadbare boxers. "I have to put this on my head?"

"They were clean, sweetheart." Dean chimed from the bathroom.

"Shave faster!" I snapped.

"Just change in here!"

"Never!"

 

An hour later, we were ringing the doorbell of the house where the man had died.

"This has gotta be a whole new low for us." Sam sighed.

Dean simply gave Sam a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows in my direction.

A man opened the door, glaring at the three of us.

"Hello," Dean said with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

"We're very sorry for your loss." Sam offered.

"It is during these difficult times that we must have faith in the Lord." I closed my eyes as if praying. Man, this religious stuff really wasn't for me.

"Look, you wanna pitch your whole 'Lord has a plan' thing? Fine." The man heaved angrily. "Just don't pitch it to me. My brother's dead."

I completely understood the man.

"Roger. Please!" the woman, Ms. Miller I assumed, gasped. She gave us a tear filled apologetic look. "I'm sorry about my brother in law. He's… he's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

I was going to say no need, but Dean was already accepting the offer.

"That would be great."

Dean Winchester and his bottomless stomach.

"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now." Ms. Miller whispered.

"Of course, Ms. Miller." I gave her a polite smile.

"After all we are all God's children." Dean too, smiled.

The woman stood up when someone called for her. "Please, help yourselves." she pushed the bowl of sausages in our direction before leaving us.

Dean didn't miss a beat and started shoving a handful into his mouth. Sam and I both frowned. He made a 'what' motion with his hands. I slapped his hand away from reaching for another fistful.

Sam shook his head. "Just… tone it down a little bit, Father."

Dean wiped his hand on his robe at the sound of footsteps. "So Ms Miller, did your husband have a history of depression?"

"Nothing like that." Ms. Miller's lip started trembling. "We had our ups and downs like everyone but we were happy." She burst into tears. "I just don't understand… how Jim could do something like this."

"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that." Sam said gently.

Ms. Miller gestured to behind her where a thin pale boy was rocking himself on a chair. "Actually, our son Max, he was the one who found him."

I knew this scene. I knew this episode. The kid was a psychic. He was going to kill himself. And Sam would find out about the other kids that had demon blood dripped into their mouths. My heart started racing. How was I supposed to help here? I barely remembered any of the details. Just that the uncle died. The kid was abused. And that the kid would try to kill everyone in his family and then himself, and would actually succeed in suicide.

"Sister," Dean's voice snapped me back to reality. "Your coffee is going cold."

I looked at the cup in front of me. "Thank you, Father."

"Of course." Dean turned his attention back to the woman. "Ms. Miller, you have a lovely home. How long have you lived here?"

"We moved in about five years ago."

"The only problem with these old houses. I bet you have all kinds of headaches."

Ms. Miller looked confused. "Like what?"

"Well, weird leaks, electrical shortages, odd settling noises at night. That kind of thing."

"No, nothing like that. It's been perfect."

"Huh." Dean looked around. "May I use your restroom?"

"Oh, sure. It's just up the stairs."

I was too out of it to even frown at Dean when he grabbed another sausage from the bowl before walking out. But we had a job.

I had nothing to say, so I said the only thing I could think of. "The Lord is always with you. God is good." the words that had been uttered to me so many times in my life. "God will guide you through your tough times. You just have to believe in him. Have faith."

"Yes, sister." Ms. Miller sobbed. "Yes, sister. God is good. God is good." she repeated over and over again, until her tears stopped. "Thank you, sister."

"Of course, Ms. Miller. Stay strong."

"Yes, yes…"

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Sam wrapping up his conversation with the boy. "I'm afraid we must go. There are… candles to be lit."

"Of course, sister. Thank you so much for stopping by."

"If you don't mind, I would like to go and see if Father has gotten lost." I lowered my head and walked up the stairs.

Sam followed behind me with a firm nod.

We bumped into Dean right at the landing. "Anything?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Zip."

 

I read through the final article available online. Nothing. I looked up from my laptop. Dean was wiping down the parts of all our guns on the table. Sam entered the room, looking exhausted.

"What do you have?" Dean asked, not looking up.

"A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built."

"Same here." I stretched out my back.

"What about the land?" Dean peered through the barrel before vigorously cleaning the inside again.

"No grave yards, battle fields, tribal lands or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

"Same." I chimed again.

"Hey man I told you, I searched that house up and down. No cold spots, sulfur scent." Dean clicked his tongue. "Nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?" Sam sank onto his bed.

"Well, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infrared thermal scanner man, and there was nothing."

"So what, you think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some sorta freakish coincidence?"

"I dunno. I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house."

"Sharon." Sam looked at me with those puppy eyes. "What do you think? You've seen this show before. What is happening to me? I–" he rubbed his temples.

I couldn't say anything. "Sam, I'm sorry." My heart broke for the large man that was starting to break down.

"No, no. It's alright. You-you're not to blame for any of this." He inhaled sharply. "Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe it's just… Gosh." He clutched his head.

"Sam?" I walked over to him.

"I'm fine– maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way?" He was suddenly off the bed and crouching on the floor.

Oh no. "Sam!" I knelt down next to him. Was this another vision?

Dean rushed over, holding his brother up. "What's wrong with you?" He demanded.

"My head." Sam grunted in pain.

"Get him onto the bed." I told Dean.

The two of us helped him up. Sam immediately curled into a ball on the bed, with his shoes on. No matter, we could get new sheets.

"Sam? Hey," Dean gripped Sam tightly. "Hey! What's going on? Talk to me!"

Sam made no coherent answer, just pained noises.

"Sam, look at me." I tapped his cheek. "Sam, you're here with us. You're safe. Focus. Focus on me!" His big hazel eyes were wide and full of fear when they met mine. I swallowed.

"That's it, Sammy. Keep your eyes on her." Dean patted his shoulder. "You're doing good."

We gave him a couple of minutes to reorient. He suddenly gasped, doubling over even more.

"Whoa, Sammy." Dean pulled Sam back on the bed before he could fall over.

"Welcome back." I brushed the damp hair from his sweaty forehead. "What happened?"

Sam pushed himself up shakily. Dean pulled back once he was sure Sam was steady on his own.

"Thanks." he panted.

"What happened?" Dean asked a little more urgently. "Talk to us, Sam."

"It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

 

We piled into the car. We sent Sam to the back, in case he had another vision and needed to lie down. But he seemed to be running pretty good on adrenaline. He was currently on the phone getting the address of Roger Miller.

"Roger Miller. Ah no no, just the address please. Ok, thanks." Sam muttered into the phone. I turned my head to the back to keep an eye on him. He was still holding and nursing his head, but he didn't look like he was gonna faint. "450 West Grove, Apartment 1120." Sam finally said.

"I'll put that into the GPS." I started typing it out. "Take a left from here."

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror worriedly. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"If you're gonna hurl I'll pull the car over." He paused before deciding to add onto the sentence. "Cause the upholstery…"

"I'm fine." Sam snapped.

"Stop lying." I told him. "I know what this feels like. Not what exactly you're going through, but I've been in this position. Hell, I still am. So talk. It helps."

Dean gave me a look that said hypocrite.

Sam looked away and sighed heavily. "I'm scared. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these, visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense. And painful."

"Come on man, you'll be alright. It'll be fine." Dean comforted.

His voice was strong and commanding. Something told me that those words weren't just for Sam.

"What is it about the Millers. Why am I connected to them, why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?" Sam rambled. "Sharon, you know about this. Please, tell me. Something, anything. Just a sign that- that I'm– I don't know. Just say something. Say you know how this ends."

I did know how this ended. It didn't end well. Supernatural had never been a comedy even with all the ridiculousness. I couldn't speak, I couldn't say the words he wanted to hear. "I'm sorry, Sam." And I truly meant it. "It's-it's- you–" I couldn't even get past the first syllable.

Dean placed a hand on my thigh and took over. "I don't know Sam but we'll figure it out. We've faced the unexplainable every day. This is just another thing." Dean squeezed my leg in a comforting manner. I exhaled slowly.

"No. It's not just another thing. It's never been us. I mean Sharon with her telekinesis- and now me? It's never been in the family like this. Tell the truth, you can't tell me this doesn't freak you out."

Dean's vice-like grip tightened further on my thigh. He needed comfort just as much as I did. I placed a hand on his and threaded our fingers together. We could get through this.

Dean took another moment. "It doesn't freak me out."

The whites of his knuckles said otherwise.

 

Roger, the man from yesterday and the brother of the first victim was walking into his apartment, his arms full of groceries.

"Hey, Roger!" Sam leaned out of the window to call out.

"What are you guys? Missionaries?" Roger spat. "Leave me alone."

"Roger!" Sam yelled after the man, but he had already disappeared into the apartment building.

Dean pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Sam and I exited the vehicle and ran upstairs.

"We have to save him." Sam mumbled over and over again.

"We do." My legs ached as I tried to keep up with Sam.

By the time we managed to get to Roger's apartment, he had already locked the door behind him with absolutely no intention of opening the door back up. What else could we do?

"Roger! We're not priests! You have to listen to us!" Dean yelled. I jumped. I hadn't even noticed him walking up behind us. "Dammit! Back entrance!" Dean barked.

Sam and I followed his lead to the fire escape. Dean took a quick look around before ramming his leg into the door. The locks fell apart easily and the three of us ran in.

I was out of breath already. I panted against the railing while Dean went past me. Curse my lack of exercise.

"Come on, come on." Dean muttered. We were just three floors up. Roger lived on the third floor.

Everyone paused, however, when a loud squelch echoed through the apartment building. I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly. Roger was dead, rendered headless by a fricking window.

Dean pushed on the middle of my shoulder. "We have to go." He ran a handkerchief over the spot where I had been holding onto the rails. "We can't get caught by the police."

"I'm fine." I batted Dean's hand away from my shoulder. "Go get Sammy." He probably needed more support than Dean right now, anyway. I'd dealt with this before. I was gonna be fine.

He didn't miss a beat, keeping a hand on his brother's shoulder and guiding him down. Sam shuffled into the backseat and I slid into the passenger's side. As Dean pulled out of the parking lot, I got an eyeful of Roger's head amongst the daisies of the flowerbed below. His lifeless eyes stared back at me. I wanted to throw up.

"We couldn't save him either." Sam gasped from the backseat. "He's dead. I couldn't save him."

"Me neither." I leaned against the seat and ran my hands over my face. They came back sweaty. It never got easier, did it?

 

Dean sighed as he repeated once again. "I'm telling you there was nothing in there. No signs either, just like the Miller's house."

"I saw something, in the vision. Like a dark shape." Sam continued to insist. "Something was… something was stalking Roger."

"Whatever it was, are you sure it's not connected to their house?"

"No, it's connected to the family themselves. So what do you think, like a vengeful spirit?"

Deann nodded. "Well yeah, there's a few that have been known to latch onto families, follow them for years."

"Angiak. Banshees." Sam provided. He was wrong.

"Basically like a curse. So maybe Roger and Jim Miller got involved in something heavy, something curse worthy."

Oh for sure. Like the abuse of Max. but it wasn't a spirit doing the harming, it was Max himself.

"And now the something is out for revenge. And the men in their family are dying." Sam looked at me for confirmation. Well, I couldn't give him anything. He suddenly turned to Dean. "Hey, you think Max is in Danger?"

"Let's figure it out before he is."

"Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people."

"What's that?" Dean tilted his head.

"Both our families are cursed."

Dean huffed. "Our family's not cursed. We just… had our dark spots."

"Our dark spots are… pretty dark." Sam's lips were starting to tug into a smile from Dean's exaggerated tone.

"You're…" Dean struggled to find the right words. "Dark." He settled on 'dark'.

I laughed at the sibling banter. My brother and I used to do the same thing.

 

"Hello again," I smiled when Max opened the door. "Is your mother home?"

"My Mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." Max stepped aside to let the three of us in.

Max tried to joke. "All these people kept coming with like, casseroles? I finally had to tell them all to go away. You know cause nothing says I'm sorry like a tuna casserole."

Sam smiled at Max, who smiled back.

Max motioned to the couch and we all took a seat. Max looked restless.

"How you holding up?" Sam broke the silence.

Max shrugged. "Okay."

"Your dad and your uncle were close?"

"Yeah I guess. I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little." abusing Max.

"But lately not much?"

"No, it's not that. It's just… we used to be neighbours when I was a kid, and we lived across town in this house. Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

"Right. So how was it in that house when you were a kid?" Painful. The poor kid. I couldn't imagine the pain he went through.

"It was fine. Why?" Max's voice was defensive.

"All good memories? Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and your uncle maybe?" Sam shut up. The kid was traumatised enough already. He didn't need the bad memories pulled up even further.

Max stiffened. "What do ya… why do you ask?"

"Just a question." Dean chimed.

"No, there was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy."

I wondered if he knew his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Good. That's good." Dean turned to look at me and Sam. "Well you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right. Thanks." Sam and I nodded at Max and left the house.

We stood by the Impala, getting ready to discuss Max's odd answers.

Dean started the conversation. "No one's family is totally normal and happy. See when he was talking about his old house?"

Sam nodded in agreement. "He sounded scared."

"Yeah Max isn't telling us everything." Dean opened the door to the car. "I say we go find the old neighbourhood, find out what life was really like for the Millers."

 

Very conveniently, there was a man mowing his lawn on the front yard right when we rolled into the neighborhood.

"Have you lived here long?" Sam called out to the man.

"Yeah, almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you looking to buy?"

Sam was shockingly good at starting conversations for someone who I considered a nerd like myself.

"No, no actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that used to live right across the street I believe."

"Yeah the Millers." Dean provided. "They had a little boy called Max. Sam nodded in support.

The man thought for a moment. "I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about. Is that poor kid okay?"

Sam gave us a glance. "What do you mean?"

"Well in my life I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean I'd hear the man yelling and throwing things clear across the street, he was a mean drunk." The man shook his head. "He used to beat the tar outta Max. Bruises. Broke his arm two times that I know of."

The poor kid. He didn't deserve any of it. Adults sucked sometimes. And I was suddenly glad I had helicopter parents who always treated me like a fragile vase rather than a punching bag.

Sam's voice was low. "This was going on regularly?"

The man nodded sadly. "Practically everyday. In fact that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, not lifting a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

Yeah, the system kinda sucked. They even did more harm than good to some kids.

"Now, you say stepmother." Dean mentioned.

"I think his real mother died. Some sorta… accident. Car accident I think." Wait, not a house fire? Was I forgetting that much of the show? I was pretty sure Max's mom burned on the ceiling with her stomach sliced open too.

Sam gave a small groan of pain. "Sam?" I held a hand up to steady him. His larger body stumbled and it took almost all my strength to hold him up.

"Is he okay?" The neighbor asked worriedly.

"Yeah, sorry. He struggles with migraines." I lied. "Let's get you in the car. Thank you so much." I told the neighbor.

Dean took over supporting Sam. "Thank you for your time."

"Yeah, thanks." Sam grunted. "God."

I opened the car door for Dean to help Sam inside. He helped him lie down on the backseat and I lifted his head enough to push my flannel under his head to act as a cushion. Dean and I remained close, as Sam took agonizing breaths.

Dean sped down the road. I glanced at the speedometer. 55 mph, and we were in a 35.

"Max is doing it." Sam said from the backseat. "Everything I've been seeing."

"You sure about this?" Dean glanced back.

"Yeah, I saw him."

"How's he pulling it off?"

"I don't know, telekinesis?"

Dean's green eyes locked onto mine. Was he thinking I could go crazy? Unfortunately that was a valid concern. I was worried about it myself. I'd tried to keep using my abilities to a minimum for that very reason. Only if the situation required it.

Dean looked back at the road. "Like Sharon?"

"Stronger." Sam sighed. "I didn't even realise it but this whole time he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, outside the apartment when his Uncle died. These visions,this whole time. I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! The thing is I don't get why, man. Cause I don't connect to Sharon in the same way. But maybe I guess because Max and I are so alike?"

Dean stiffened behind the wheel. "What are you talking about. Dad never beat you. The dude's nothing like you."

"I didn't mean about Dad. We both have psychic abilities, we both…" Sam looked weakly at me.

"Both what?" Dean snapped. "Sam, Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third."

Sam frowned. "Well, with what he went through, the beatings, to want revenge on those people? I'm sorry but it doesn't sound insane."

"Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family!"

"Dean," I said gently. "I agree with Sam. He's been through a lot."

"No," Dean's jaw was set when he pulled over at Max's house. "He's no different from anything else we've hunted. Alright? We gotta end him."

No, we could save Max. I knew he committed suicide. If I used my own powers then maybe I could save him.

"We're not going to kill Max." Sam insisted.

"Then what? Hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up, officer he kills with the power of his mind'." Dean glared.

"No way. Forget it." Sam shook his head. Dean killed the engine. I got out and helped Sam back up on his feet. His legs were slightly wobbly, but he managed to steady himself. "Dean, he's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."

Dean thought for a long moment. "All right, fine. But I'm not letting him hurt anybody else."

"Me neither." I squeezed Sam's hand. "Sam, we're gonna make sure everyone's safe."

He nodded. "Thanks, Sharon."

We barged in. "You didn't stop them, not once!" Max was yelling.

"Fathers?" The woman in the room looked shocked at us. "Sister?" It took her a minute to recognise me without the habit.

"What are you doing here?" Max looked at us with his face blank.

"Uhh, sorry to interrupt." Dean said awkwardly.

"Hey, Max." I stepped up. "We wanna talk to your mom alone for a little bit."

"What? Why?" Max and the stepmother said at the same time.

"It's… it's private. We wouldn't want to bother you with it. And I think only your mother can help us with this."

"Okay then." Max said. I moved to help Ms. Miller out of the house, but suddenly the doorknob flew across the room and the blinds were forced shut. Dammit, something must have tipped him off. The guns in our pockets? Dean slammed against the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. Max had locked it with his powers.

"You're not priests, or nuns." Max's voice was threatening.

Dean drew his gun. But it did nothing. Max forced the gun out of Dean's hands and made it fly into his own hands, so that the barrel of the gun was facing me, Dean, and Sam instead.

"Max, what's happening?" Ms. Miller shook.

"Shut up." Max growled.

"What are you doing!" Ms. Miller cried.

"I said shut up!" Max sent Ms. Miller flying into a cabinet. Her head lurched forward from the forceful contact with the wood and she fell unconscious.

Was she still breathing? I strained my eyes to see. Her back rose and fell softly. She was still alive.

"Max, calm down." Sam held up his hands in defense.

"Who are you?" the kid demanded.

"We're here to help." I tried.

"Right. That's why you brought this!" he shook the gun around.

"That was a mistake all right? So was lying about who we were. But no more lying Max ok? Just please, hear me out." Sam pleaded.

"About what?"

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your Dad and your Uncle before it happened."

"What?"

"I'm having visions Max. About you."

"You're crazy." Max's hands started shaking.

"So what, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam tapped the spot right between his eyes. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe Max, look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you."

No. That's not why Sam had been brought here. He'd been brought here to kill Max. but that was why I was here. To stop it. Right?

Max started crying. "No one can help me."

I softened my voice even more. "Max, we're going to try. It's gonna be just a talk. No weapons. No nothing."

"We'll get Dean and Alice out of here." Sam added.

"Nuh-uh no way." Dean immediately protested.

The chandelier began to shake. "Nobody leaves this house!" Max shrieked.

"Then no one has to." I kept my voice calm for the kid.

"They'll just… they'll just go upstairs." Sam gave Dean a look that said 'just trust me for once'.

But Dean was never one to back down easily. "Sam, Sharon. I'm not leaving you two behind."

Sam was quick to cut in. "Yes you are. Look, Max. You're in charge here, all right, we all know that. No one's going to do anything you don't want to do but I'm talking five minutes here man."

"Sharon!" Dean pleaded with me to convince his brother otherwise. But I agreed with Sam.

"No." I nodded my head towards the woman on the floor. "Take her up. We'll be right here."

Dean clenched his jaw tight, clearly not happy with the turn of events, but picked up the Ms. Miller and helped her up the stairs.

"Five minutes. That's it." Max snarled.

"Of course." I motioned to the couch. "I think sitting down will be a good idea."

I had to be strong. I couldn't break. Not even when Max was twirling a knife on the table without breaking a sweat. He was a considerably stronger telekinetic than I was. It must have been because of the demon blood.

"Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through." Sam started.

"That's right you can't." Max looked at us menacingly.

"Max, this has to stop."

"It will, after my stepmother…"

"No. You need to let her go."

Max looked genuinely confused. "Why?"

"Did she beat you?"

"No, but she never tried to save me, she's a part of it too."

"Max is right." I voiced my own opinions. "What she did was neglect. That is equally detrimental."

"Someone gets it." Max's lips twitched.

Sam sighed. "Yes, but what they did to you, what they all did to you growing up, they deserve to be punished…"

"Growing up?" Max laughed in disbelief. "Try last week." He lifted his shirt up to reveal bruises and cigarette butt burns all over his sides and chest.

"That is horrible." I muttered.

"I'm sorry." Sam too muttered in horror.

"My dad still hit me. Just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard I guess." He pulled his shirt back down and looked at me and Sam dead in the eyes. "When I first found out I could move things it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless but now I had this. So last week Dad gets drunk. The first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell, first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do." He had a crazed look in his eyes. It looked almost like Christopher. I swallowed dryly. Christopher wasn't here. Dean had shot him. There was no way he would have been able to track us to here.

"Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked.

"It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing they would still be out there. It was about… not being afraid. When my Dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

John Winchester never hated his sons. Disagreed with them, maybe, but never hate. Sam answered truthfully. "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my Mom's death."

"Why would he blame you for your Mom's death?"

"Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault." Max scoffed.

"She died in your nursery?"

"There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling!" He laughed without humor.

I knew it. She didn't die in a car accident. It was a house fire. Just like Sam's.

Sam's eyes widened. "Listen to me Max. What your Dad said, about what happened to your Mom. It's real."

"What?" Max almost laughed.

"It happened to my Mom too, exactly the Same. My nursery, my crib, my Dad saw her on the ceiling."

"Your Dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"And had the same hallucination as yours?" I pointed out. "Highly unlikely, Max."

"It's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our Mothers."

"That's impossible." Max shook his head.

"This must be why I'm having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities, they started 6-7 months ago right, out of the blue?"

Max turned to look at Sam slowly. "How'd you know that?"

"Cause that's when my abilities started Max. Yours seem to me much further along but still, this has to mean something right? I mean for some reason, you and I… you and I were chosen." Chosen to kill each other in a death match.

"For what?" a death match.

"I don't know. But Dean, Sharon, and I, my brother, sister, and I, we're hunting for your Mom's killer. We can find answers, answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go Max. You gotta let your stepmother go."

Max thought for a moment but shook his head. "No. What they did to me. I still have nightmares. I'm so scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for that next beating. I'm so sick of being scared all the time, I just want this to be over!"

"It won't. Don't you get it? The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this. It's just, more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don't have to go through all this by yourself."

"I'm sorry." Max raised his hand.

I ran. I ducked out of sight behind the stair railings and forced my legs to go up. I could hear Sam let out a cry from shock and the slam of something. Dean, Alice. I had to get to them.

The two of them were surprised when I locked the door behind us. "Dean, weapons. Throw them." I patted him for any weapons. "Dean. Come on."

"And be defenseless against him?" Dean hissed.

"You have me." I reminded him. "I can protect us. I'm telekinetic, remember?"

"No." Dean stood up from where he was sitting with a cloth to Ms. Miller's forehead. "You know what it does to you. Headaches, nosebleeds, nausea, body aches–"

"I won't die from it. I think." I forced him to look at me. "Dean, I can do this. Just let me do this. Please. Let me protect you."

He grit his teeth. "Fine. But I won't let him hurt you. He still has a gun. If he tries to shoot you, I will protect you."

Right, Max still had the gun from earlier.

Just then, the door was thrown off its hinges. I grabbed Dean's shoulder and forced him behind me.

"Max." I looked at the boy with the calmest expression I could muster.

"Hi." He looked angrily at Miss Miller.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed when he realised Max was holding a gun.

I blocked her from his sight. "Max, let go of the gun."

"Like this?" Max made the gun float in the air.

That was not what I'd meant. But okay. But, no. "Max, we can't let you hurt her."

"Move. This isn't about you."

"You wanna hurt her. You'll have to go through me." Dean pushed me aside.

"Dean, no." I hissed.

The gun swiveled to position itself right between Dean's eyes. It cocked itself. "Okay." But his hands were shaking.

"No, don't! Don't!" Everyone in the room snapped their heads to see a panting Sam looking like he would collapse any moment. "Please. Please. Max. Max. We can help you. All right. But this, what you're doing. It's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything." He begged.

Max's face had tears streaming down them by the time Sam finished talking. "You're right."

Sam looked relieved. Then he shouted "No!"

The gun swung from facing Dean to facing Max. But not if I had any say. I forced the gun to the side, but Max was stronger, and the trigger was pulled anyway. It didn't hit anyone though. It just hit a wall. The gun clattered to the floor.

Max's eyes widened as he looked at me. "You." I stared back cautiously. "You're like me. You can move things." He looked around at Sam and Dean. "With your mind."

I pressed my lips together and nodded. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Max's knees went weak and he fell to the floor. He steeled himself. "But you're not going to stop me."

"Oh yes I will." I raised my hand and willed the window to shatter. The shattering noise only made the throbbing and white noise in my ears worse. But there would be no window to close if there was no window in the first place, right? I slid the gun back to myself and chucked it out the window. "One downside to telekinesis is that you can't control what you can't see." The gun fell through the window with a loud clang. Probably hit metal or something. "Max, we can get through this. No one has to die. Your mother- stepmother will be punished. Actually," I looked at her trembling curled up form on the bed. "I think she's already been punished. Killing her would just put her out of her misery. And if you yourself die. Then you'll never get to see the people who hurt you suffer." This was hardly a healthy way to cope. But that could be dealt with later. I blamed my lack of tact on the dizziness that was seeping into my head.

"But now I'll just be a minor in a foster home!" Max cried. "And those places are the worst!"

I shot Sam a look when he tried to open his mouth. "I know." I said slowly. "The system has failed you. It was never about saving the kids, it was always about having more power over the disadvantaged." But some foster homes were good. Though that wasn't what Max wanted to hear right now. "But you know what? You don't have to go to a foster home. You can just… float around."

"Float around?" Max clutched his head. "I won't have a home!"

"Your home life sucked. So make your own home. Run away!" I insisted. "Max, you can't just let go of your life! You've hung on for so long! Just a little bit more! You can help other runaways, you can do so much with your life!" Those lines were probably the cheesiest things I'd ever said. If someone ever told me that, then I would probably smack them in the face.

However, whatever kind of plot armor Chuck had given us, it was really strong plot armor. I was more surprised it worked on me. Considering I had scars everywhere, but Dean and Sam seemed to have very light ones - you would never find them unless you were specifically looking for them - and absolutely nothing marred their beautiful faces.

"Easy, easy." Dean's voice was firm when his fingers dug into my arm. Oh, I hadn't even realised that I was stumbling.

"Max, it's okay." Sam said gently and knelt next to the boy.

Max gave a whimpering nod and sat back. "What do I do?"

We got Alice to a hospital. She started talking about the truth despite us specifically telling her not to. About guns flying and Max and me having super powers or something. And then she said something about Max killing her husband and her brother in law like the snitch that she was when it came to her husband. She couldn't have snitched on her husband when Max was being abused? But obviously the paramedics just labeled her as crazy and dosed her up with some meds and shoved her into the ambulance.

"So…" Max breathed in shakily. "This is what you guys do? Deal with the supernatural?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded.

I tuned out of their conversation once I confirmed that they were just talking.

"Still bleeding?" Dean let go of the pinch he had on my nose.

I shook my head. "It's gone now." I could no longer taste the blood in my mouth either. "Dude, that sucked." I frowned. "It's like 11 from Stranger Things."

"What?"

I waved my hand. "TV show from the future."

"Headache?"

"None."

"Ears ringing."

"A little bit. But it could also just be the hum of whatever machine."

Dean nodded. "Alright, let's get back to the motel. We'll leave as soon as we can." We spotted a few police officers looking at us in our direction. "Sam, Max. Let's go." Max picked up the bag he'd packed with the few things he'd wanted to take with him, and all the cash he could find littered around the house. And the four of us piled into the car.

It was a weird ride. Sam took his time explaining things to Max who looked like he wanted to pick up hunting, while simultaneously explaining that once you started hunting you never got back out. It was difficult to decide if Sam wanted Max to hunt or not.

"The overnight bus for Idaho leaves in ten." Dean parked Baby behind a bus that was rattling even in place.

Max stepped out with his bag swung over his shoulder. "Thanks." he nodded to us. He slowly turned to look at me. "Is it okay if I… call?"

"For?" Dean chimed immediately, leaning over my seat in a threatening manner.

I shoved my boot against his shin and he straightened back up with a small curse. "Yeah, sure. If you ever need any help."

Max nodded and turned around to head into the bus.

Dean, Sam, and I sat silently in the car, watching the bus rock to a start and somehow make it down the road, one rattly inch at a rattly time.

 

Sam was outside the motel room loading our bags in the car. I watched him work with a smile on his face from the window. He looked happy. That made me smile. Dean took the opportunity to sit across from me on the table.

"So…" He awkwardly made eye contact. "What's up?"

"Uh…" I frowned. What was he asking about? "The ceiling? The sky? Anything but my grades?"

"Grades?"

I shrugged. "I used to joke about that with my friends. What do you wanna know?"

He cleared his throat. "About… what happened. Sharon, it's been two months. And you haven't let me touch you."

I stopped typing. "I'm not in the mood. That's all."

"No, there's more to it." He sighed. "Look, I know you get riled up a week before your period during your-your- never mind."

"Yeah, like a disgusting horny rabbit." I muttered. I hated it when I felt that way.

"But my point is. It's been two months and I haven't seen you even read those nasty novels that are worse than cheap porn DVDs."

Right. Because everything reminded me of him. No matter how many times Dean kissed me or told me I was okay, the memories just wouldn't leave. "Sorry," I looked at him over the laptop screen. "I'm sorry Dean. I- I just– I can't. Not after what he-he did."

"You're safe." Dean clenched my hand. "You're safe here. With me. With Sammy– we would do anything to keep you safe."

"Is this about sex?" I tried to calm myself. "Is this because you need to-"

"No." he answered immediately. "Is that what you think this is about?"

"This?" I scoffed. "It's about you and little you down there."

"No." He was starting to frown. "This is about you. And you feeling comfortable. How little do you think of me?"

I looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, sweetheart." His thumb brushed over my knuckles. "I just want you to understand that whatever happened, I got you. We got you." He always said that. And he was always right.

I wanted a hug. I pushed my chair back and walked over to Dean. He held out his arms as I took my place on his leg and curled against his chest. He placed a hand over my hip. "I'm sorry." Apologizing felt weird. Like a punch to my useless ego. "I-I shouldn't have run out."

"And I shouldn't have said those things."

"Well it was my fault you landed in the hospital in the first place."

"If I hadn't missed, we wouldn't be here."

"I could also have not been caught by the thing you know."

"And I could have not left you alone to take all those kids out."

I frowned. "We're getting nowhere."

"You're right. This wasn't our fault."

"It kind of was. We're both idiots."

Dean smirked. "We're each others' idiots." His eyes lowered to my lips. The love and lust in his green eyes reeled me in. His eyes darted up to mine in question.

I really loved it when he asked. "Yeah,"

Before I could completely close my eyes, his mouth was on mine. God, he was so warm. His arms were strong as they held me close on his lap. His hands tangled up with my hair and I let myself sink further into his hold. "I'll protect you."

I hummed in response. "I can always come back?" It was a stupid question. I knew I could. But I needed to hear it.

He came down for another heated kiss.

"You're always welcome." He whispered against my lips. "I got you."

Yeah. That was Dean. For the first time in weeks I felt like happy crying. Dean was here with me. The muscles of his chest were taut as I clung onto him. I felt safe. His other hand trailed down to my hip, rubbing the dip in my thighs. This was why I liked him. He was always so gentle even though he was so strong.

We parted for another moment to catch our breaths before kissing again. I never thought I would be able to kiss someone with so much passion, but here I was. In the arms of Dean Winchester. Dean fricking Winchester. My hands went to the buttons of his flannel. I wanted his skin against mine. The warmth of him, to know it really was him. Was this what people felt when they said 'need to feel you' in the middle of kissing?

The door to the motel room opened. "I didn't offer to get the bags in the car so you two could fuck." Oh hell no, not again. I ducked in Dean's chest to hide from Sam. I was also pretty sure I was bright red.

Dean looked over my head to glare at Sam. "Shut up, Sammy."

"It's Sam. Sammy is a chubby twelve year old."

"He's also a 6 foot 4 freakish giant." Dean threw back.

"Um, Sharon." Sam said from the doorway. I lifted my head off Dean's chest. "Thanks for moving that cabinet."

"What cabinet?" Dean and I asked at the same time.

Sam paled. "You know- the cabinet that Max put against the closet. To keep me from escaping."

"Oh." Oh. Sam's powers were growing. "Yeah, sorry Sam."

Dean shifted under my hands. I dug my fingers into his flesh to keep him from saying anything.

"That was me, yeah." Sam relaxed at my words. "The memories are kinda fuzzy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Right. Having sex by a window will do that to you." I reddened again.

Dean let out an indignant huff. "We weren't having sex Sam. And we're all consenting adults here."

"There's no consent coming from me." Sam shook his head and walked out. "I'll give you guys a few minutes. Close the curtains!"

"A few minutes. Close the curtains." Dean mimicked Sam's tone. But he did go and close the curtains.

Once Sam was safely out of earshot I grabbed Dean by the shoulders. "Dean, listen to me."

"Whoa, whoa, sweetheart. You really wanna do this in a few minutes?" He smirked. "I've been tellin' ya, quickies are awesome."

"Dean." I hissed. "I didn't move that cabinet."

His face grew confused. "What do you mean?"

"The cabinet that was barricading Sam's door. I didn't move it." I lowered my voice, just in case the motel room walls were thin enough for Sam to hear. "Sam did."

Dean froze. "He's telekinetic too? Is that possible?"

I opened my mouth but the words wouldn't come out. "Dean, this is bad." I whispered to him. "Max was stronger than I was. Sam's stronger than he thinks he is."

"But he doesn't need to know." Dean sighed and leaned back against the chair.

"He'll panic if we tell him." The two of us had to keep it together. I shuddered. "Dean, we have to be strong."

"I know." But Dean's hands were shaking. "For Sammy."

"For Sammy." I repeated, keeping my tears at bay. I had to be strong. My job wasn't over just yet.

Notes:

A/N: So this chapter turned out exactly as I'd wanted it to. AND HEY, GUYS I TALKED TO HIM. not one on one there was another girl with us. BUT I TALKED TO HIM. HE DOESN'T EVEN REALISE I SIT ACROSS FROM HIM IN NEURO BIO LAB AND O CHEM LAB. IS HE BLIND. He said "Oh I think I see you sometimes." and then he asked "how was the neuro exam?" But oh well. he know I exist now. He doesn't know my name tho. I'll try talking to him again tomorrow during bio lab but idk we'll see. HALLELUJAH YALL HE'S SO FINE.

Chapter 21: The Benders

Summary:

"I tried to figure it out. Maybe this was just some crazy axe murderer. And not the murderous family with the crazy daughter."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Murder, but that’s normal for SPN
2. Terrible writing due to lack of stress
Sorry for the short and late update. Clearly I’m not stressed enough about the o chem quiz that might be this week or it might not be this week. Cause the professor told a friend of mine that he is moving it to after spring break but idk cause he hasn’t said it to the whole class. Ignore the bio lab exam. Yeah, we have exams for bio lab, idk what we’re gonna do in it tho.

My sheriff outfit was finally being put to use. I felt solid in the outfit, all strapped up with guns and knives with no need to hide my weapons. Dean looked awesome too. This must be why people loved roleplaying with their lovers. Cause he looked hot .

“I know you're just doing your job,” I snapped my head back to reality. We were here on a job. Be professional. I straightened out my back some more. “but the police have been here all week already. I don't see why we have to go through this again.” Mrs. McKay sighed. “The more he tells the story, the more he believes it's true.”

“Mrs. McKay, we know you spoke with the local authorities.” Sam said gently.

Dean nodded along. “But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police, so…”

“Hey, Evan,” I knelt down to the boy’s height. “Just tell us what you saw.”

“I was up late, watching TV. When I heard this weird noise.” said the little boy.

“What did it sound like?” Sam asked.

“It sounded like… a monster.”

The mom, Mrs. McKay sighed. “Tell the officers what you were watching on TV.”

“Godzilla versus Mothra.”

Dean’s lips ticked up into a smile. “That's my favorite Godzilla movie.” Of course he was excited about the movie. “It's so much better than the original, huh?” His excitement was endearing though.

“Totally.” the kid smiled slowly.

“Yeah.” Dean grinned at me and Sam. “He likes the remake.”

I tapped Dean’s boot with mine, while Sam glared at the man. Dean’s smile slowly fell from his face and he almost looked upset at us bursting his bubble.

Sam asked next. “Evan, did you see what this thing was?”

“No. But I saw it grab Mr. Jenkins. It pulled him underneath the car.” Evan said softly.

“Then what?”

“It took him away.” the boy shuddered. “I heard the monster leaving. It made this really scary sound.”

“What did it sound like, Evan?”

“Like this… whining growl.”

Sam gave me a look at the answer. We most likely had a case here.

“Thank you so much for your time.” I said to the worried mom. I watched as Dean high fived the kid.

“Thank you,” Sam muttered. And the three of us went back to our rides.

 

Sam’s head was buried in a pile of files and folders, lifting up momentarily to flip a page before ducking back under again. He sipped at his beer while I swirled my coffee in its cup. My laptop lay on the table glaring against my eyes in the darkness of the dive bar. My glasses were doing little to ease the strain on my eyes, but I lived on the internet. Dean’s occasional dart hitting its mark kept us company amongst the buzz of the other guests at the bar.

“So, local police have now ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle.” Sam noted.

“Maybe it’s just a regular kidnapping?” I finished scrolling through the page I was on. “I don’t think we have a case here. The kid probably just got confused with the monsters on TV and the sight outside. Trauma and all that.”

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this–” Sam spun John’s journal to me. “Dad marked the area,” Dean leaned over my shoulder to look at the journal. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, he was so close. “Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker.”

“Why would he even do that?” Dean questioned.

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes.”

I made a quick search. “Lowkey you might be right.” I tried to ignore Dean’s hand right next to my shoulder, resting his weight on the back of my chair. “This county has more missing persons per capita than any other in the state.”

“That is weird.” Dean muttered.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded.

“Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds?” Dean stood up, but his hand remained on my chair. “Jenkins was taken from a parking lot.”

“Well, there are all kinds.” Sam started listing possibilities. “You know, Springhill Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime. Look, guys, I don't know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“We could ask around tomorrow morning.” I swallowed the rest of my coffee.

“Right.” Sam pulled out his wallet. “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

Dean immediately protested. “Whoa, whoa, easy. Let's have another round.”

“We should get an early start.” Sam stood up anyway.

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, you really know how to have fun, don't you, Grandma?” Dean placed a hand on my shoulder. “How many times does Sharon dress up, anyway? Black miniskirt and red sleeveless bodysuit?” Dean whistled. His hands trailed further down to my bare arms. “You can go back on her bike or something. Get us a, no make that two, rooms.”

I felt my cheeks heating up. I did feel like hanging out today. It had been a whirlwind of a past few days, trying to keep Sam’s mind off of what was happening to him. Dean and I had definitely earned some time.

Sam gave an indignant huff. “Fine. But don’t stay out too late.” His eyes softened when they landed on me. “Don’t push yourself.”

I passed him my keys with a smile. “Thanks, Sam. Goodnight.”

“G’night.” he walked away while still slipping on his jacket.

Dean pulled me up and walked me to the bar. I grabbed my purse before I forgot it and took a spot right next to him. Our shoulders brushed against each other’s and Dean called over the bartender.

“Beer.” he said and then pointed to a fancy looking margarita. “And whatever mocktails you have. Make it a surprise for the lady.”

A man sat on my other side and I brushed my hair over my neck, hiding myself from him. Dean’s arm settled behind my stool, as a way to signal everyone to stay off both of us.

“Should we have let him go?” Dean whispered to me.

I tensed a little bit. Surely he would be fine, right? I couldn’t think of anything important that happened. Things were pretty chill until Meg showed up again, and I was pretty sure she didn’t show up like this. “I think so.” I shrank further against my husband when the man next to me shoved his elbow in my space.

“You gotta claim your own space.” Dean muttered but shifted so I could move away from the man. He didn’t seem to be interested in me at all. Just a little too drunk to actually realise he was being rude. “He’s a big guy.” Dean said, more for himself than for me. But it gave me some comfort too. “He knows how to defend himself. He’s strong.”

“And smart.” I added. “He’s smarter than us both combined.”

“Well I disagree with that.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “The smartest one is sitting right next to me.” His eyes flickered down to my chest. “And pretty one.”

“Pretty?” I leaned in a little more to give him a better view.

“Sexy.” Dean’s face had gone blank from lust. “That is called sexy.”

I felt the heat in my cheeks from all the flirting. That was about all the flirting I could do without wanting to bury myself.

“One beer. One surprise mocktail.” the bartender slid over our drinks.

I squinted at my drink.

“No alcohol. I watched.” Dean said gently.

I wasn’t sure if it was the atmosphere or if my drink was spiked or if I was just too sleepy to think before I spoke, but I was feeling bolder than usual. “You sure?” I batted my lashes. “Cause you seemed a little distracted.”

His jaw clenched and his hand trailed from my back to possessively gripping my waist. “How else do I react to such a babe?” Before I knew it, he was taking a sip out of my drink. “No alcohol.”

I swatted his hand away from my drink when he tried to take another huge sip. “My drink.”

He smirked. “My woman.”

Cheesy. “My man.”

Even more cheesy. I was definitely too sleepy to be acting like this.

One round later, Dean was pulling me off my stool and guiding me out. “Alright, come on.”

I groaned. “But Dean, I’m not sleepy! See? I’m awake!”

“And you’re acting so drunk some other dude thought you were actually drunk and tried to hook up with you.”

I frowned. “He wasn’t trying to hook up with me. No one wants to hook up with me other than you. He just wanted my number.”

“Right. Cause he is an actual recruiter from a TV entertainment agency and you actually have enough social energy to be on TV.”

“Hey! I was on TV when I was in elementary school!”

Dean zipped up my half worn jacket. “Sure, sweetheart. Come on now.”

I puffed out my cheeks. He didn’t believe me, did he? Jerk. Then I spotted something I wasn’t expecting. “Dean, Sam didn’t take my bike. Did he take Baby?”

“He doesn’t have the keys.” Dean dangled his keys in front of my bike. “Where’s Sammy?”

Maybe the younger Winchester was hiding to spite me and his brother.

“Sam! Sam!” Dean yelled. But no response. He grew frantic. “Sam! Sammy!”

No answer. Oh my God. “Sam!” I called out too. “Sam, where are you!”

“Dad’s journal.” Dean whispered and rushed over to the Impala. John’s journal lay on top. “Sam.”

We shouldn’t have left him alone. This was all my fault. Sam. “Dean, we need to find him.”

“Not shit.” He wrenched his car door open. “Come on. We’ll get your bike some other time.”

I nodded. “Okay,” Sam was more important than some stupid bike. Besides I’d chained her to the bike rack. She wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

“We have to find him.” Dean repeated as he rapidly backed out of the parking spot. “How did this happen?”

I clutched my jacket tighter around myself. “I don’t know. We shouldn’t have left him.”

 

One sleepless night later we were back in our sheriff outfits, just one sheriff down, talking to a real sheriff, who was looking at us with all the skepticism possible.

Kathleen, as her name badge read, sat down in her office. “So, what can we do for you, Officer Washington? Officer Laren?”

“We’re working a missing persons.” Dean started.

Kathleen raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I didn't know the Jenkins case was being covered by the state police.”

“Oh, no. No, there's someone else.” Dean leaned forward. “Actually, it's my cousin. My partner and I were havin' a few with him last night at this bar down by the highway. And neither of us haven't seen him since.”

“Does your cousin have a drinking problem?”

“Sam? Two beers and he's doin' karaoke.” Dean joked.

Kathleen cracked a smile.

“He wasn’t drunk though.” I said. “He was taken for sure.”

“Alright.” Kathleen turned to start typing on her computer. “What's his name?”

“Sam.” Dean said. I could see his leg starting to tense under the table.

“Samuel Winchester.” I corrected. “His full name.”

“Like the rifle?”

“Like the rifle.”

“Samuel Winchester.” Kathleen read.

“Well, he's not showing up in any current field reports.”

Oh my God. Sam. Why hadn’t I insisted on tagging along with him.

“Oh, I already have a lead. I saw a surveillance camera by the highway.” Dean said. I hadn’t even noticed the camera.

“Uh-huh. The county traffic cam?”

“Right. Yeah. I'm thinking the camera picked up whatever took him. Or, whoever.”

“Well, I have access to the traffic cam footage down at the county works department, but…” she sighed. “Well, anyhow, let's do this the right way.” She stood up to get out some paperwork from a cabinet behind her. “Why don't you fill out a missing persons report and sit tight over here?”

Of course. Paperwork. Of course they were gonna take the slow route.

Dean forced a dry chuckle. “Officer, look, uh, he's family. I kind of– I kind of look out for the kid. You gotta let me go with you.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t do that.” Kathleen stood her ground.

Dean switched tactics. “Well, tell me something. Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of ‘em come back?” Kathleen froze and her expression clouded with sadness. “Sam's my responsibility. And he's comin' back. I'm bringin' him back.”

 

“Greg, Ariana.”

Dean and I looked up at the call of our fake names.

“I think we’ve got something.” Kathleen passed us a few printouts. “These traffic cams take an image every three seconds, as part of the Amber Alert program. These images were all taken around the time that your cousin, Sam, disappeared.”

Dean and I flipped through them.

“This really isn't what I'm looking for.” Dean muttered.

“Just wait, wait– next one. Oh, she has it.”

I pulled out one particular picture. “This one was taken right after Sam left the bar. Look at the back end of that thing.” It was a rusty dusty old van. “Now, look at the plates.”

I squinted. What was I supposed to be looking for?

Dean put his finger on the license plate. “Oh, the plates look new. It's probably stolen.”

Oh. Now I felt dumb. But what if they just got a new license plate cause the other one was rusty dusty? Or maybe they bought an old scrap car?

Kathleen nodded. “So, whoever's driving that rust bucket must be involved.”

The struggling whine of a rickety old engine right outside the police station had us all looking outside.

“I’ll be damned.” Dean said to himself as the same rickety old van from the picture drove past. With my bike in the back.

 

“So, Gregory, Ariana.” the sheriff said from the front.

“Yeah?” Dean hummed nonchalantly.

“I ran your badge numbers.” Oh shoot. “It's routine when we're working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you.”

Her eyes were accusing when she looked at us from the rearview mirror. We had been caught, hadn’t we?

“And, uh, they just got back to me.” She pulled the car to a stop on the side of the road. Yeah, we were screwed. “It says here your badge was stolen, both of your badges.” She pulled out a picture. “And there’s pictures of you two.”

Gregory Washington had been a big heavy African-American guy, and Ariana Laren was an East Asian.

“I lost some weight.” Dean said dryly. “And I got that Michael Jackson skin disease.”

“And all Asians look the same?” I cringed.

“Okay, would you two step out of the car, please?” Kathleen moved to open the door.

“Look, look, look.” Dean grabbed her shoulder. “If you wanna arrest us, that’s fine. We’ll cooperate, both of us I swear. But, first, please– we need to find Sam.”

“Yes, please.” I pleaded too.

“I don't even know who you guys are. Or if this Sam person is missing.” But Kathleen was wavering.

Dean pulled out his charming ‘look into my eyes’ card. “Look into my eyes and tell me if I'm lying about this.”

“Identity theft? You're impersonating an officer.” But she hadn’t left the car to force us out yet either.

“Look, here's the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire. And ever since then, I've felt responsible for him. Like it's my job to keep him safe.” Dean was rambling. “I'm just afraid if we don't find him fast– please.” Dean’s voice shook. “He's my family.”

Kathleen looked at me. “And why are you in this?”

I hated how my own voice started to shake. “I’ve already lost a brother.” I had to keep it together. “I’m not about to lose another one.”

Kathleen pressed her lips together. Her eyes darted to a picture on the dashboard. It was of her and another man with very similar features. Was he her brother? He looked too young to be her dad.

“I'm sorry. You've given me no choice. I have to take you in.” She restarted the car. “After we find Sam Winchester.”

Dean looked at me. Crisis averted? Momentarily?

 

Halfway to our destination, we stopped for coffee and a restroom break.

“We’re wasting time.” I anxiously tapped my foot. “We have forty eight hours to find him alive. Statistics say that after forty eight hours, the probability of finding the missing person alive drops significantly.”

“Rushing and forcing yourself to find him won’t help you either.” Kathleen said, pushing a cup into my hand. “Sugar?”

I grabbed the five packets she passed me. “Thanks.”

“You need to keep yourself functioning if you want to find and be able to help him.”

Kathleen was right. “Right.” I sipped my coffee. It did nothing to calm my nerves. “Why are you helping us?”

“My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam.” So the man in the picture on her dashboard was her brother. “We searched for him, but– nothing. I know what it's like to feel responsible for someone, and for them– Come on. Let's keep at it.”

 

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dean said suddenly. “Pull over here.”

Kathleen pulled over and we got out of the car.

“It’s the first turn off I’ve seen so far.”

I looked at the muddy ground. “Tracks. The van probably came through here.”

“You two stay here, I’ll check it out.” Kathleen opened the door.

“No way.” “We’re coming with.” Dean and I both opened our doors.

“Hey. You two are civilians.” Kathleen glared. “And potentially felons. I’m not taking you guys with me.”

“You’re not going without us either.” I crossed my arms and stood my ground. We were finding Sammy no matter what.

Kathleen let out a sigh. “Alright. You promise you won't get involved? You'll let me handle it?”

Sure. Whatever.

“Yeah, alright.” Dean answered out loud.

“Then shake on it.” Kathleen held out her hand.

Dean clasped her hand in his, only to curse when she slapped a handcuff around his wrist. Oh hell nah. I tried to run but she was fast. She yanked me back by my jacket and shoved my face against her car. The click of the cold metal around my wrists made me slack my body. My fate was to be chained to a stupid car while some woman looked around for Sammy.

“Hey!” Dean yelled.

“Stay put.” Kathleen grunted and handcuffed the two of us to the handlebars of the car.

Dammit. She was smart. How long had she been cooking this plan?

“Oh come on.” Dean groaned. But Kathleen continued walking away. “This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you're gonna need our help.”

“I’ll manage, thank you!” she called, and disappeared into the trees.

“I gotta start carrying paper clips.” Dean grimaced.

“You got a woman who has bobby pins.” I pointed out. I used my free hand to pluck out a pin from my head and started picking at the lock.

Dean raised his voice to mock me dramatically. “Thank God for your hour-long hair routine in the mornings.”

“Shut up.” I huffed. I worked the pin through the lock. It took a minute especially with one hand, but it came undone. “Awesome.” I moved onto unlocking Dean from his.

The screech of the pickup truck had him cursing. “Son of a bitch. Hurry up.” he hissed.

“Don’t curse at me.” I mumbled as I heard the final click.

The cuffs fell with a clink to the ground. I quickly picked them up and threw them in the cop car.

“Come on, we gotta go.” Dean tugged on my arm.

I ran after him through the woods, following the truck’s tire marks.

We ended up finding a rundown rickety house. It was huge, but it was clearly in dire needs for repair.

“This house is ricketier than that rickety truck.” I whispered to Dean as we tried to figure out how to get inside.

“Tell me about it.” Dean kept a hand on his pistol. “Where should we look?”

There were about as many cars in this place as there were in Bobby’s yard. License plates from all over the country. Ohio, Minnesota, Arkansas, Iowa, you name it. I kept looking around till I found the most suspicious thing in the area. Both our eyes landed on the door to a barn that looked like it had fresh footprints around it. We glanced at each other. No doubt about it. We were going in there.

I gripped my gun as tightly as I could and followed Dean as he slowly pushed the door open. I kept an eye out behind us, anything and I would shoot. Shoot first, questions later.

The barn was stinky. If graves stank of one old corpse then this one smelled like ten. Were there corpses in here? My heart dropped. Was Sam okay? Sam wasn’t dead was he?

“Son of a bitch…” Dean put his sleeve up to his nose as he adjusted to the smell. I did the same. We looked around cautiously. Nothing to note. Just a bunch of cages with weird locks on them along with shackles… Some of them had skulls and bone remnants in them. Of course.

Wait. This scene felt familiar. I knew this place. It felt so familiar. Was it in the show? It didn’t feel like deja vu.

“Sam?” Dean suddenly said. He rushed over to a cage where Sam was sitting up. “Are you hurt?”

Sam broke out in a grin. “No.”

“Damn, it's good to see you.” Dean rubbed his brother’s shoulders through the gaps between the metal bars.

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” Kathleen asked. She was in the cage right across from Sam.

“Secrets.” I told her. She looked even more confused.

“Alright.” Dean knelt down and observed the locks. “Oh, these locks look like they're gonna be a bitch.”

Sam pointed to a control panel near the entrance to the barn. “Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there.”

“Have you seen ‘em?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Dude, they're just people.” Just people. I knew this episode. It was the crazy murderer family.

“And they jumped you? Must be gettin' a little rusty there, kiddo.” Dean walked over to the control panel and started pushing random buttons. “What do they want?”

I tried to figure it out. Maybe this was just some crazy axe murderer. And not the murderous family with the crazy daughter. The next sentence out of Sam’s mouth confirmed the situation. For me at least.

“I don't know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me.”

So this was the crazy murdering family!

Dean kept talking while playing with the buttons. I examined the lock. Was there any way I could break it? “Well, that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns. But with people, they're just crazy.”

“See anything else out there?” Sam asked.

“Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I'm thinkin' when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

“Yeah, all kinds of states. Some were from here too.” I frowned when the lock refused to come undone.

Kathleen asked me in a small voice. “Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?”

I wasn’t good at identifying cars. Dean answered her instead.

“Yeah actually, I did.” Dean responded. Kathleen closed her eyes and took a slow deep breath. “Your brother’s?” She nodded.

“I’m sorry.” I told her.

“Let's get you guys out of here, then we'll take care of those bastards.” Dean walked back to us and pointed at the control panel. “This thing takes a key. Key?”

“I don’t know.” Sam shook his head.

“Well, I better go find it.” Dean went to leave. “Sharon, you stay here. In case someone comes in.

“Hey,” Sam called.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

Dean just clicked his tongue in acknowledgement and went out the barn door.

“We’re gonna need weapons.” I started looking around. Nothing really weapon worthy. I walked over to a particularly rusty cage and tugged on one of the iron bars. It gave a little. Lowkey, it would work. I tugged on the damn thing, grunting when it came off with a groan. It had taken a bit of strength, and I was pretty sure I would get tetanus from the cut it left on my hand. But I wouldn’t die, right?

“Let’s hope that doesn’t disintegrate when you hit them with it.” Sam joked.

“Yeah.” I tested it by slapping it against my palm. “It hurts like hell. I think this’ll do.”

Kathleen had gone quiet. I wrestled out a couple more iron bars and handed it to the two of them. “Should work as defense if they come in.” I ran my hands over the cold steel of the gun in my back pocket. “I have a gun too, but I’m not very keen on killing a human.”

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. “Just people. But why are they letting us out of our cages?”

I shrugged. “Dean said they’re crazier than what we deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

I ignored Kathleen’s question. “Someone’s coming.” I ducked behind a pillar and gripped the bar in my hands. I breathed slowly. I had to be calm if I wanted to fight. If memory served right, then someone was gonna come down here… But just one or two? I couldn’t remember. But it didn’t matter because I could take one or two guys no problemo. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have backup. My gun pressed against my bare skin. Who knew I would find comfort in a gun. I prepared myself when the door to the barn opened.

The locks to the cages clicked open.

“What are you doing?” Sam cried.

I lunged. I swung the rusty rod down as hard as I could on one of the men. The man grunted and collapsed on his knees, but he wasn’t unconscious.

“Behind you!” Sam yelled.

I ducked just in time to not get shot.

“Shit, there was another one!” the man that shot yelled.

“Hey!” Kathleen yelled, and she smacked that guy in the back of his knees. He landed on the smelly barn floor with an ‘oof’.

Sam grabbed one of the men’s shotguns and aimed it at the guys. He tried to shoot, but the bullets wouldn’t fire. I brought out my own pistol and shot right into one of the men’s knees. He gave out a cry of pain and then went silent.

“Is he dead?” Sam whispered.

“No. I missed any major arteries.” I fixed my eyes on the other man next. “And if you’re dying instantly from a shot… well you probably were never meant to be alive anyway.”

Sam rammed the back of the shotgun into the man’s head. That guy passed out too.

“Shockingly easy, no?” I grinned.

“Three on two was hardly a fair match. And with us?” Sam chuckled. “So,” He looked at the two unconscious men. “What are we doing with them?”

Kathleen grit her teeth. “I have an idea.”

Her grand idea was tying them up in one of the cages. Well, it was a solid idea for sure.

“Jared! Lee!” came the angry voice of an old man.

“There were more?” Sam muttered.

I racked my brain. I couldn’t remember how many more there were. “Wanna launch a surprise attack?”

“How?” Kathleen asked.

Sam looked up. “Sharon, you’re a genius.”

 

I remained perched on my ledge, hiding behind a vertical post. Sam was behind another post on my left and Kathleen on my right. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but I knew what we were gonna do. Fun times.

I played around with the gun in my hands. I still had quite a few bullets left. I was too lazy to tally up the numbers from the previous times I’d used my gun. The weight told me I was good for at least five more shots… dammit, maybe I should have let Dean do maintenance on my gun.

“Lee! Where are ya? Lee!” an old man yelled. “Jared?! Hit the lights, Jared!”

But obviously no one responded.

“I gotta do everything in this house!” the old man cried. I could hear him flick a switch. Nothing. No lights. “They must have blown the fuses.” he muttered to himself. I could hear him cocking a shotgun.

Welp, we had our own.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Sang the man. “I know you’re in here.” He opened up random cabinets, checked every cage they had. And then he screamed. “FUCK! Lee! Jared!”

He must have found the other men. “I’m gonna kill you for touching my family!”

Kathleen jumped down on the man. She rammed the back of the shotgun into his head repeatedly until the man let go with a shout.

“Dean.” Sam looked at me, all panicked.

I nodded. “Kathleen, you got this?”

“Might need some help tying them up.” Kathleen stood up, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “But I can keep them in check.”

Sam jumped off his ledge first and held out his arms for me.

“Really, Sam?” I laughed. There was a ladder right there for me to use. Sam shrugged. “It’s faster.”

I jumped down and he caught me by the sides of my thighs with a grunt.

“You guys do this a lot?” Kathleen asked.

Sam and I looked at each other. “Yeah. Kinda what we do. With Dean.” That is if he was still alive. I was pretty sure he was alive.

I helped her tie the men up and hooked them up to the shackles for good measure. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

We didn’t have to go far. Dean was walking out the door and onto the porch with a grimace.

“Dean.”

Sam and I both sped up to the man. Dean protested, but let me pat him down for injuries. He winced especially hard when I brushed against a spot on his shoulder. “What’d they do to you?”

“Hot poker sticks.” He shuddered.

“Jacket off.” I tried to help him out of it. In the moonlight, I could see where it had a hole burnt through it. Even his shirt had a hole. “Damn, dude.” It was a nasty burn. “We need water.”

“Wouldn’t trust what they have in there.” Dean grimaced as I grabbed a handkerchief from my pocket.

“This’ll have to do then.” I wrapped up his burn.

“Anything else, Dean?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Sure, man.” Sam patted the back of his head and Dean winced.

“Oh, come on.” Dean swatted his hand away. “Stop touching me like that.”

Sam deadpanned. “Like what?”

“Like you’re- you’re- dammit never mind.”

“If that isn’t gay.” Both brothers snapped their heads in my direction. I shrugged. “Keep talking like that and I will write this for the internet.”

“You won’t.” Sam looked at me horrified.

“Sharon, that better be a joke.” Dean threatened.

“Sure, buddy. Sure.” I scoped out the junkyard of cars till I spotted my ride. “I’ll go get my bike.”

“Keys,” Dean grunted.

“Where are they?” Sam started checking Dean’s pockets.

“Jacket. Got them after getting that little girl to tell me.”

Sam pulled out my keys and tossed them to me. I went through a bunch of cars.

One, two, three, four, five… seven, ten… twenty… thirty… There were so many cars, so many bikes, so many rides , and all of them had belonged to people. People that were killed by other people. Not demons, not ghosts, not some freak supernatural thing. But some deranged humans. Humans could do all this. All this death, all this pain. I spotted my bike in a corner, surrounded by a bunch of others.

Their license plates were rusted over, and the paint was chipping off of them. Their parts were falling apart. Just how many people were killed? I felt sick. We hunted down the supernatural monsters… but was there anyone that hunted down these sick human monsters?

Then one specific car caught my eye. It was far off in the distance, covered in vines and crushed by fallen branches.

‘Baby on board’.

A baby. These… these people– were they even people? – had killed a baby. I felt dizzy. I gripped onto the edge of my bike, trying to ground myself. A baby’s screams pierced through my head. That baby must have been so terrified. To be ripped away from their family and killed just for some other sick bastard’s enjoyment.

You’re thinking too much again.

Oh, how nice of Mr. Angel to stop by.

I am neither man nor–

Fine. Mx. Angel.

I don’t know what that means.

Gender neutral suffix.

… of course.

So, after so many days of silence, why was the Angel showing up?

To tell you that whatever you are planning. It is stupid.

Stupid? My plans were stupid? I was trying to reach a happy ending here.

You die, I die.

Then maybe they should get a new vessel.

I need time.

Right. We had no time. I had to save John.

You’re crazy.

Thanks, genius. Wait… How did they even possess me?

You agreed .

I did?

Yes, once. Once you did. I only need to hear the word ‘yes’ once.

Huh… I might have said yes to it in a dream.

Indeed.

Bro wasn’t even trynna deny it.

I looked around at the yard one more time. Kathleen would kill them. I knew that. She would get revenge for her brother. The monsters would be dead. I rolled my bike out of the yard and walked up to Dean and Sam who were in another brotherly spat.

“Is that how you talk to an injured person?”

“Dude, you weren’t the one that was kidnapped!”

“Oh, come on! I saved you, right?”

“You two done arguing?” I stood next to them with my hands on my beloved ride. The two brothers scoffed.

“Sounds like me and my brother.” Kathleen’s voice suddenly said. We turned around to face her walking out of the basement with her shotgun in her hand. “Where’s the girl?” She asked.

“Locked her in a closet.”

“And the men?” Sam tilted his head.

Kathleen paused. “Shot.” she shifted nervously. “Trying to escape.”

We all looked at each other. No one was escaping from those handcuffs.

 

“So, state police and the FBI are gonna be here within the hour.” Kathleen said with a small smile. “They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest that you're long gone by then.”

“Sounds great to me.” Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

Kathleen looked better than before, but she still had a haunted look in her eyes. “Kathleen.” I decided to suck up my social anxiety. “About your brother… I’m sorry we couldn’t do anything for him.”

“Thank you.” She began to tear up. “It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth– but it isn't really.” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Anyway, you should go.”

“Yeah.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Keep up the good work.”

She gave us a weak smile.

 

“So isn’t this highly illegal?” Sam said from the back.

“Yeah, it’s not like we impersonate government officials everyday.” Dean shot back from the front.

I rolled my eyes. “Three people on one bike isn’t that bad, you know. Wait till you get on the streets of India. We get four people on a bike with four suitcases on the side and a dog in the basket. Oh, and wearing ripped slippers.”

“You people are crazy.” Dean mumbled. I squeezed his waist tighter.

Sam just laughed. “Well, we could have Jessica on here too.”

“Yeah, lemme just wiggle a little more so I’m sitting on the ignition, and we can have a full family vacation.” Dean flipped off his brother, who shoved his own middle finger in front of his face. I couldn’t help but smile at the brothers’ arguing. With the wind nipping at all our hair and the rustle of trees as we sped by, it felt peaceful. Everything was alright. Jessica was alive. Bobby was at his house. Dean and Sam were happy. And John was still okay. We were all okay.

“Never do that again.” Dean broke the silence.

“Do what?” Sam leaned over my shoulder to hear Dean better.

“Go missing.” I looked at Sam’s hazel eyes.

They glittered with joy. “You two were worried. About me.”

“Damn right we were.” I tapped his boot with mine. He playfully nudged back.

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for you.”

“Sure you won’t.” Sam teased.

“I’m not.”

Sam chuckled. “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just sayin’. Gettin’ rusty there, kiddo.”

“Shut up!”

With the two brothers laughing I felt like I could relax. We were okay. For now.

Notes:

SO, hot guy, I talked to him again. Dude kind of remembers me. I made a fool of myself tho. “I saw you debating with the TAs up front lol” “Debating? No I was just asking a question.” I turned red and ran away. HE STARTED THE CONVERSATION BTW, he asked how many test tubes we needed for our experiment. And then he proceeded to talk to my friend who was waiting for me outside while I wasn’t there. Yeah, life’s great. Oh I went to Spencer’s for the first time in my life. Those boob jewellery are amazing. The Spencer’s I grew up with was a grocery store in the basement of a mall in India so this was a new experience. The only ‘grocery’ I saw in the American Spencer’s was a strawberry vibrator so yeah, Ig it’s a grocery store.

Chapter 22: Shadow

Summary:

"I’d killed her. I’d killed Meg. I’d killed a human.
Until the bitch got back up."

Notes:

Yeah. I'm stressed. 4 exams next week. anyways here yall go.
WARNINGS:
1. Suicidal hints
2. Very emotionally heavy. highly recommend tissues

“All right. This is the place.” Sam said, looking up at the apartment building.

“We with the alarm system company?” I reread the label on my latest uniform.

“Yeah.” Dean looked me up and down. “I was gonna say I feel like a high school drama dork, but…” he smirked. “If your ass is gonna look like that in these things, then…”

I smacked his hand away. “Feel up your toolbox or something.”

“I’ve got a tool that fits right in your– ow!” he whined when I dug my boot into the back of his knee.

“I need bleach.” Sam muttered.

“Same.” I sped up to walk next to him.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean shifted his attention to his brother instead. “What was that play that you did? What was it– Our Town. Yeah, you were good, it was cute.”

Sam glared at his brother. “Look, you wanna pull this off, or not?”

Dean shrugged. “I'm just sayin', these outfits cost hard-earned money, okay?”

Sam scoffed. “Whose?”

“Ours.” Dean pushed past us to take the lead. “You think credit card fraud is easy?”

I almost did a double take at that sentence. I loved that line. So many years ago, I’d laughed uncontrollably on the living room couch. And now I was living it. Except it wasn’t enjoyable, because it reminded me of what was to come. All the pain, all the suffering.  We were nearing the final episode of season 1. It was 2006, had been for a while. And John Winchester’s death was closer than ever.

 

The landlady opened the door to the apartment.

Sam turned to her. “Thanks for letting us look at the place.”

“Well, the police said they were done with the place, so…” she shrugged.

I knelt beside Dean who was looking over the blood splatters on the carpet. I remembered this, all of this. All of this was a trap, set up by Meg. I felt sick.

The landlady continued chatting. “You guys said you were with the alarm company?”

“That’s right.” Dean answered.

“Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man.”

Actually… if Dean did grow boobs one day… I found myself staring at his chest.

The left corner of Dean’s lips threatened to curl into a smirk. He straightened up and hardened his face into a more professional look. “Well, that's why we're here. To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again.”

Sam forced his voice into an excited lilt. “Now ma’am. You found the body?”

“Yeah.” the landlady nodded.

“Right after it happened?”

“No. Few days later. Meredith's work called– she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell.” she gagged at the memory.

Dean went around to the windows. “Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?”

“No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we had to cut it just to get in.”

“And the alarm was on?” I threw in, just so it sounded like we were actually from the alarm company.

The landlady laughed dryly. “Like I said, bang-up job your company's doin'.”

I forced a smile. “Tell me about it.” Something supernatural had gotten in.

“Mmhmm.” Dean hummed. “You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of struggle?”

“Everything was in perfect condition– except Meredith.”

“And what condition was Meredith in?” Sam asked.

“Meredith was all over. In pieces.” the lady shook her head. “The guy who killed her must have been some kind of a whackjob. But I tell you, if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it.” she looked at the three of us dead in the eyes.

Dean gave a small nod to Sam. Sam nodded back in acknowledgement. “Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once-over?”

The lady nodded. “Oh, well, go right ahead. Knock yourself out.” She left us to the apartment.

Dean pulled three EMF meters out of the toolbox. “So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment– no weapons, no prints, nothin'.” He passed them around to me and Sam.

“I'm tellin' ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig.” Sam’s meter started beeping frantically the second he turned it on.

“I think I agree with you.” Dean’s meter also started beeping.

“So you talked to the cops?”

“Uh, yeah.” He caught my eye and smirked. “I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law.” The bastard trying to get a reaction out of me.

“Yeah?” Sam gave me a half-concerned half-terrified glance. “What’d you find out?”

“Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean– wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo–”

I snapped my head in his direction, the same time as Sam. “Where?” “Dean!”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, it was the back of her neck.” Dean sauntered over and tried to push my hair aside. I slapped his hand away. He only grinned wider. “This is fun.”

It wasn’t going to be when I ignored him for the rest of the day.

“Dean!” Sam said a little louder. I headed for the door.

“What? Yeah. Uh, nothin' we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keepin' out of the papers.” Dean caught me around the waist and pulled me back against him.

“Leggo!” I struggled against his grip, but he was strong. And I kind of liked it. Dammit.

“Meredith’s heart was missing.” Dean’s fingers dug into my sides. “Come on sweetheart, you know you’re not going anywhere.” Damn this guy. I gave up struggling and just sagged in his hold.

“Her heart?” Sam was expertly ignoring our little act.

“Yeah. Her heart.”

“So, what do you think did it to her?”

“Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was a werewolf?”

That’s what I’d thought too at the beginning of the case, but it wasn’t.

“No, no werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right.” Sam wondered aloud. “Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit.”

Dean’s hand suddenly slid off of my waist and the solid wall of warmth moved away. I watched as he knelt down next to the blood splatters one more time. “See if you can find any masking tape around.”

 

I finished taping off the last bit, and stood up to see the complete pattern. Dean and Sam came to stand next to me.

“Ever see that symbol before?”

“Never.”

“Me neither.” Dean looked at me and Sam. We were dealing with something strange, something we’d never dealt with before.

 

I didn’t quite remember what we were dealing with. I knew it wasn’t a werewolf, and John showed up at some point. But the details were hazy in my mind. I did know that light killed them though, something about shadows. But the creatures had some name…

“Sharon. Hey, Sharon!”

I blinked in surprise. “Sorry, what?” I realised that Sam was holding the door open for me. “Oh, sorry.” I walked into the uncomfortably crowded bar. If it was gonna be crowded then I preferred being behind the counter.

Sam tilted his head in the direction of the bar where a thin blonde was leaning seductively on the counter. “Are you mad cause Dean is flirting with the bartender?”

“Let’s find a table.” I spotted one in the corner and slammed a hand on it before a group of college guys could steal it. I fixed them with a glare when they tried to sit down anyway, and they backed off with raised hands. Was I really that scary? I sighed and looked away from the man that was still chatting up the woman. “It’s fine. He wants a reaction. He’s not getting it.” I crossed my arms and slouched in my chair. Who cared. Dean was off with some woman, and it was just Sam in front of me. I let my knees apart and lifted a foot onto the raised leg of the table. “You wanna call him?” I glanced in Dean’s direction. But he was already sauntering over with a smug look on his face.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” I ignored him even as he slid into the chair next to mine. His hand landed on the back of my chair. I straightened my shoulders and leaned forwards, away from his touch. “I talked to the bartender.”

“I saw.” I bit back.

“Nothin’ happened. She gave her number to me. I didn’t even ask for it.” He passed me a very feminine handkerchief covered in roses and smelling like too much of some random fruit. I took it from his hands and chucked it across the room. I frowned when it landed only on the next table, right next to the college guys that had tried to steal our table. One of them whistled and gave me a smirk. “Oh, so you’re allowed to flirt with guys?” Dean teased.

“Shut up.” I dug my boot into his. But I leaned back against the chair so Dean’s hand could brush over my shoulder.

“I’m forgiven?”

I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Sam cleared his throat. “You two can continue your lovers’ quarrel once I’m gone. Now, look.” Sam passed Dean a newspaper clipping. “One victim before Meredith. And did you, uh, learn anything other than the bartender’s number?”

“Look, there's nothing to find out.” Dean removed his hand from my shoulder and got into business mode. “I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so– what about that symbol, you find anything?”

“We might have to dig deeper for that.” I told them. “I couldn’t find anything in the books I went through. Or John’s journal.” I caught a glimpse at the newspaper clipping. “Tell me more about the first victim.”

“Right, yeah.” Sam started explaining. “His name was, uh– his name was Ben Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal– the door was locked, the alarm was on.”

Dean slid over the newspaper back to Sam. “Is there any connection between the two of them?”

“Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least.” Sam shook his head. “Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common– they were practically from different worlds.”

“So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number.” Dean grinned.

Sam suddenly stiffened.

“Sam?” I looked around cautiously.

“We have to leave.” Sam whispered.

“What? Why?” Dean looked down at his drink wistfully.

“ Please. ” Sam begged.

I stood up. “Come on.” I pulled out my wallet and tugged on Dean’s arm. I put down a hundred dollar bill and Dean followed me and Sam out of the bar.

“It was Meg.” Sam whispered. “Meg Masters.”

I felt sick. If I hadn’t been holding onto Dean I was pretty sure I would have passed out. “What?” I managed to get out.

“She was the one that was following me around.” Sam looked around frantically. “Dean, we have to get out of here.”

I nodded. The woman was bad news. I walked over to my bike and stopped. No way.

‘Meg. 351-555-0143.’ on a white notepad paper tucked into a bend on my bike. “Dean!” I called. “Sam!”

The two brothers were there immediately, their faces grim.

Sam’s fingers curled around my wrist. Whether it was for my comfort or his, I didn’t know. Cause both of us could use it right about now. “Shit.” he muttered. “I’m sorry Sharon.”

“Not your fault.” I squeezed his hand.

“Who’s Meg?” Dean asked.

“The woman that had been stalking me.” Sam shuddered. “The one Sharon warned me about. We met on the highway. I tried to avoid her, but she kept following me.”

“Damn, Sammy. Jess would be upset.” Dean joked, but his jaw was tight.

Dean started walking towards Baby. “Alright. In the car.” Dean pulled his side open. “Sharon, in the back.”

“What?”

“We can get your bike later.” Dean started nudging me into the backseat. “We gotta get out of here.”

As Dean pulled out of the parking lot, I could see Meg staring at us through the windows of the bar. Her eyes were beady, dark, and her lips were curled into the cruelest smile I’d ever seen on a living human.

 

I had to lie down in the back to keep myself from passing out. My stomach felt like it was in knots. Meg was here. John was here. Things were going to get bad. Even when I’d seen the show I could tell there was something wrong. And right now, I was living it.

“You okay back there?” Dean asked.

“I’m fine.” I brushed my hair off my sweaty forehead. I couldn’t panic. Not yet. There were things to be done.

“I think there's somethin' strange going on here, Dean.” Sam said shakily.

Even in this situation Dean was trying to keep it light. “Yeah, tell me about it. She’s stalking you ? And not me ?”

“No, man,” Sam frowned and shook his head. “I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead.”

Dean thought for a moment. “Why do you say that?”

“I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road.” Sam started rambling. “And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? You don't think that's a little weird?”

“To be fair, she’s stalking you.” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, but look at how Sharon’s reacting.”

“I’m still here Sammy.” I groaned.

“Right. But you get my point.”

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. “We’ll figure this out.”

I pushed my door open and tried to stand up. I had to lock my legs to not keel over onto the spit and chewing gum stained concrete. Ew was that vomit? Dean was too busy looking after Sam. The poor boy looked like he’d seen a ghost… wait that metaphor didn’t exactly work with us. Metaphor? Simile? My brain refused to work. I dragged my feet against the ground while taking off my jacket at the same time. I managed to make it to the bed before collapsing.

“Okay, so what now?” Dean said once we were in the motel room.

Sam had a grim look on his face. “I think I should go keep an eye on Meg.”

“What?” Dean said in disbelief. “Dude, she’s your stalker. And now you wanna stalk her?” This sounded like a terrible anime or a terrible webtoon.

“Dean, look. This girl is obviously bad news.” Sam tried to explain. “Sharon looks like she’s been through, like, the Vietnam war or something. There’s something definitely wrong here.” I frowned. Did I look that bad? I sure felt like it though.

“Yeah, and you wanna walk right into it.” Dean pointed out. “You were the one that dragged us out of there. And now you wanna go back? I should have killed that bitch right then and there!”

“In a bar full of people?” Sam scoffed. “The only reason I wanted to get out of there was because I don’t want to involve you two in my problems.”

“What’s your problem is our problem.” I chimed.

Dean sat down next to me. “She’s right.”

“Okay.” Sam took a deep breath. “Then do me a favor. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from whatever area code the number leads to, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor.”

“You’re not going after Meg alone.” Dean protested.

“You’re not leaving Sharon alone either.” Sam pressed his lips together.

“I’ll be fine.” I groaned. “You two should go after this woman.”

I doubted she knew which motel we were in. But maybe she did. She seemed to know a lot of things. I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes. What the hell was I doing? I needed to get a grip. I pushed myself up and turned to face Sam sitting on his own bed with a blank face. He was getting into his business mode as well.

“Alright.” Dean finally relented. “Sam, you go watch Meg.”

“What? Dean!” I snapped. “You can’t let him go alone.” I looked at Sam. “Then I’m going with you.” I moved to grab my jacket.

“Absolutely not.” Dean’s hand was firm and unrelenting around my waist.

“You can’t let him go after her alone! Then you go with him.”

“The faster we get the research done, the faster we can get this over with.” Sam said slowly. “We don’t need two people for a stakeout.”

He had a point. “Then let Dean watch her.”

“No. I want to do this on my own.” Sam stood up. “She’s after me. And I’ll take care of it myself.” He took Baby’s keys from Dean.

These two brothers were so damn stubborn. “Fine. Take care. But things go bad. You call. Immediately. Don’t go after her alone.” My memories of the details were weak. I wasn’t even sure when Dean and Sam got kidnapped by the blonde chick. “Be careful, Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed.

“I'll be careful.” Sam said with a small smile. And he was gone.

 

“Dean, this was a dumb idea.” I said one more time.

“Yeah? Well, no matter what we say, he’s not changing his mind.” His beer bottle landed with a clink on the table. “You got anything?”

“I’m finding similar symbols in Zoroastrian lore books.” I zoomed into the annotations on the picture on my iPad. “Gimme a couple more minutes and I’ll have something.”

“Well, I found Meg Masters and her graduation photo.” Dean started dialing Sam’s number. “I’m calling Sam.”

I hummed in acknowledgement. Oh, look. I scrolled a little lower. ‘Daeva’. It was a symbol for conjuring those nasty shadow monsters. I had an answer on them. And their weakness was light. Though that wasn’t written.

“She checks out.” Dean said into the phone. “There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo…” Sam said something from the other side. Dean turned to look at me. “You got something?”

I passed him my iPad opened up to the page. “Zoroastrian. It’s from, like, ancient ancient some world. 2000 BC. It’s used during Daeva summoning rituals.”

I was close enough to hear Sam ask. “What’s a Daeva?”

“Things that have a thing for humans. They go chowtown even on the ones that summoned them.”

“So someone’s controlling them?”

“Yeah. They have to be summoned and all that. So someone has to be behind them.” I scrolled a little lower.

“How do we kill them?”

Dean frowned as he speedread through my annotations on the side. “Nothing on that.”

“Wait, Dean. She’s moving.” Sam said suddenly. “I’m gonna go guys.”

“Wait, Sam!” Dean said a little louder, but the line was already dead.

 

The door to the motel room slammed open.

“Guys, I gotta talk to you.” Sam panted.

And so he told us everything. About how Meg had gone to some abandoned building and there was some weird dark magic altar with the same Zoroastrian symbol on it. And that Meg was talking to someone in a bowl.

“So, hot little Meg is summoning the Daeva?” Dean summarised.

Sam nodded. “Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing.”

“And what’s the deal with the bowl again?”

I lightly smacked the back of Dean’s head. “Communicating with someone. Focus, man.”

He rubbed the offended spot with a pout. “With who? With the Daeva?”

“No, you two said those things were savages.” Sam shook his head. “No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's coming to that warehouse.”

Dean suddenly got up and started sifting through a spread of files and papers on the table. “Holy shit.” he muttered, pulling out a record.

“What?” Sam and I went over.

“What I was gonna tell you earlier– I pulled a favor with Amy, over at the police department.” I pushed down the jealousy bubbling in my chest. “The complete records of the two victims– we missed something the first time.” He pointed to something on the front page.

“Lawrence, Kansas.” Sam and I read.

“Mmhmm.” Dean pulled out the other file. “Meredith, second victim– turns out she was adopted. And guess where she's from.”

“Lawrence, Kansas.” I repeated from the page.

“Holy shit.” Sam sat down across from Dean.

“Yeah.” Dean patted his lap for me to sit down on. I swatted his hand away and took a seat on the armrest of his chair.

Sam, who would have normally complained about our sitting arrangement was too panicked to even make a face. “I mean, it’s where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?”

“I think it’s a definite possibility.” Dean answered.

“But I don't understand. What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?”

“Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation.”

Sam disagreed. “No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her.”

Dean ran his hand down his face. “I'll tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone.”

Sadly, we would do this alone.

 

I walked into the room tilting to one side to balance out the weight of the bag on my shoulder. Sam followed me with skepticism, two giant books in each hand.

“We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse–” Dean took another look at the address written down. “It's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can.”

I dropped the bag from my shoulder with a loud thud on the floor.

“Voicemail?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dean blinked at the bag I’d just dropped. “Jesus, what did you get?”

“Holy water, stakes, lamb’s blood, a few shotguns, salt, a sniper rifle cause why not, and extra handguns. Oh, and silver bullets.” I nodded towards Sam with the two giant books. “He’s got about every exorcism spell I’ve ever learned.”

“Four books full.” Sam nodded. He sounded impressed.

Dean nodded. He looked a little overwhelmed. “Big night.”

“Yeah.” Sam brought out his guns to do their routine check. “You nervous?”

“No. Why, are you?” Dean did the same. He pulled the gun from his back pocket and started dismantling it.

“No. No way.” The whole room fell silent. “God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?”

Dean’s lips were pressed into a firm line. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?”

“I know. I'm just sayin', what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school– be a person again.”

A person. Sam didn’t feel like a person when he hunted. It hit me like a sucker punch. And what was worse, was that I agreed with him. I liked the thrill of going on a hunt once in a while. But I, too, didn’t want to do it like a profession.

“You wanna go back to school?” Dean said. His voice didn’t even shake with the emotions clouding his green eyes.

“Yeah, once we're done huntin' the thing.” Sam was too absorbed in his own weapons to realise the turmoil in Dean. I started prepping a few shotguns. I slid out the remaining bullets and replaced them with a mixture of salt, iron, and silver rounds.

“What about you?” Dean asked. His voice was cold. He was talking to me.

What the hell was I supposed to say? “I think I wanna go back to Sioux Falls.” I lied. I had no intention of that.

“Of course.” Dean’s gun clicked back into place with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” Dean sighed. “It’s fine. It’s, uh, great. Good for you– both of you.” He started pacing.

I glanced worriedly at Sam. His worried gaze met mine too.

We both stared at Dean. “And what are you gonna do when it's all over?” Sam asked. His voice was gentle.

“It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be somethin' to hunt.” Dean snatched the gun from my hands. “You’re doing it wrong.” I let him get busy with my weapons. It seemed to still him enough.

“Dean.” I said softly. “You should come back with me to Sioux Falls.” He paused. He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. I took it as a sign to keep going. “There’s gotta be something you want to do with your life. Something you really want. Dean, I’m– Sam’s never going to leave you.”

“Yeah, I don't want either of you to leave the second this thing's over.” I hated how his voice wavered at the end.

I placed a hand on his arm. He stiffened. “Dean, please. Hunting isn’t a life.”

He shrugged off my hand with considerable force. “Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh?” He all but slammed the knife he was polishing down onto the table. It took a lot of willpower to not flinch at his aggression. “I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Bobby’s in the first place? Sam from Stanford?”

Sam answered for me. “‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom.”

“Yes, that, but it's more than that, man.” Dean turned away from us. I caught the slightest hint of a tear in the corner of his eye. “You and you and me and Dad– hell even Bobby– I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again.”

“Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before.” Sam whispered.

But the words shattered something in Dean. “Could be.” He turned around to ask me too. “Sharon, tell him. You didn’t want him going to Stanford either. You didn’t want him– and Jessica–”

“I'm not gonna live this life forever. No matter what either of you say.” Sam’s voice was rigid when he spoke again. He’d made up his mind. “Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way.” Sam picked up the bag of weapons and headed out. “I’ll be outside.”

“Dean.” I grabbed Dean’s face and forced him to look down at me. “Dean, let him go.”

His larger hands tightened around my wrists, as if I was the only thing holding him together. “You two can’t do this to me.” The pain in his eyes made me want to cry.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled him down and stood on my toes to press my lips to his. I didn’t know how else to comfort him. His hands slid down my arms and circled around my waist. He kissed me deeper, pulling me flush against him and pushing his tongue into my mouth. I felt dizzy from the kiss, but let him hold me for as long as he needed. When he finally let go, his shoulders were trembling. “We’ll always be family.” I reminded him.

“You’ll- you’ll join me on hunts? Every now and then? Sometimes?” His green eyes were begging.

I kissed his cheek. “Come on, Sammy’s waiting.”

 

“Seriously? Climbing through an elevator shaft?” I hissed.

Sam looked at me from above, exasperated. “Only way we can go up without being detected.”

“I don’t have enough arm strength for this!” My hands were already protesting against the climb. “Dude, I’m already tired!”

“You’re, like, what? Four footholds up? That’s barely a foot.” Dean tapped the back of my calves.

“Oh shut up!” I climbed back down. “A lady’s hands are delicate.” I showed him the redness on my hands. I winced at the throbbing.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Dean said dryly. “You stay down here then.”

“Or maybe give me time and I’ll climb my way up somehow.” I sighed, looking around.

“Right.” Dean smirked. “We all know you’re not climbing anything sweetheart.” he started pulling himself up the shaft. “We’ll be down once we figure this out.”

I nodded. “Let me know if you guys need anything.”

“We will. Once you figure out how to climb this.” Sam said from up top.

“Right Sammy. The first thing I’ll do is shoot you in the head!” I huffed. “Anyways, you know what I mean.”

The brothers laughed.

“Be careful.”

“We will.” They answered at the same time.

 

I decided to spy on them from a distance. I used the fire escape of the building opposite the warehouse and got to the roof. From there, I had a pretty clear view of what was going on in the warehouse through the giant window very conveniently located within my viewfield. I pressed the binoculars against my eyes and watched.

Shit. The shadow demons attacked Sam. I reached for my bag. I had to kill her right? Kill Meg? And all this would end? But I knew for a fact the brothers made it out of this alive. Was I even needed? Was I necessary?

I took a deep breath. Of course I was necessary. I could save this show from being the tragedy that it was. I could fix things. Make sure things never got as bad as they had in the show. But fate was working against me. Fate… Roy from the wendigo case… that family from the skinwalker hunt… But I’d also saved people. A lot of them. I’d saved Max. I’d saved Jessica . Sam looked happier than he ever did. I’d kept Dean from drinking himself silly, kept John from flipping out against his youngest son. Kept Bobby from drowning in his misery. Kept the broken family together. I deserved some credit right? And I was going to make sure nothing tore their family apart again. At least not Azazel. The men would have to do some work after that. But it would be fine. Fate could go screw herself. I had a job to do. I had a family– a husband, a brother, and two father figures. I was fine. Everything was fine. My life was great.

I fished for the sniper rifle in my bag when I realised I had a clear view of Meg. I couldn't see Dean or Sam from my vantage point, but I could see her. One clean shot, and she was dead. But man, she moved a lot. A little too much for me to get a straight shot.

“Sharon! On your right!” John’s command rang in my ear.

On instinct, I rolled to my left. His commands had been drilled into me. I could move like it was a reflex. Wait… John? I managed to get a glimpse of the larger man before he was tackled to the floor by something.

The Daevas. Light. I pulled out the flashlight from my jacket pocket and pressed the button. It lit up the night sky just enough for the creature to disappear in a black blurry mess from on top of John’s body.

“John.” I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the man.

He gave a grunt and pushed himself up. “Kill that wench.” he muttered.

“Are you hurt?” I scanned him for injuries.

“I said. Kill that wench.” he said through gritted teeth. There was blood on the floor.

But right. Of course. Dean and Sam were always first on his list of priorities.

I kept a few flashlights on around me and John, making sure it cast no visible shadows around us, creating a circle of clean light. The Daevas couldn’t attack us unless there was enough darkness. And if there were no shadows, they couldn’t reach us. I aimed my rifle at Meg.

She grinned at me. Shit. The light. Of course, we’d been made.

“Shoot.” John said from beside me. “Doesn’t matter. Shoot.”

“She has them.” I whispered.

“And she can’t shoot faster than you.”

Tell that to the gun she was waving around like a maniac. “Alright.” I focused. On her. On her maniac laughter. This love is maniac… maniac… maniac… Ah hell no. Not that butt shaking song again. Maniac… Maniac… Not the Stray Kids one either!

Focus! Shoot! I managed to press the trigger the second I got a clear line. The glass shattered. And she screamed. The bullet went straight through her head and she crumpled to the floor like a ragdoll.

“Good job.” John clapped my shoulder in acknowledgement and ran down. I wasn’t sure where. But he was no longer next to me. No longer grounding me in reality. What little confidence I’d gained with his commanding presence was now gone.

My hands shook as I stared at her dead body. That wasn’t just some demon. That was Meg. The demon was possessing her. I hadn’t exactly killed Meg. All I’d done was kill her vessel. And the vessel had been human. I swallowed, or I tried to. The lump in my throat refused to let me do anything.

I’d killed her. I’d killed Meg. I’d killed a human.

Until the bitch got back up. She snarled in my direction. The flashlights around me started crumpling one by one. Shit. I pushed myself onto my feet and ran. Something scratched against my leg. I bit back a scream and grabbed a flashlight. I aimed it at my foot, the creature holding it vanished, but another one dug into my shoulder.

This scream I couldn’t hold back. Damn, it hurt. Then, as soon as they’d appeared, they were gone. Their claws had left angry red scratches against my skin, but they were no longer digging deeper. Where were they?

“NOOO!” A woman screamed. I looked over the edge of the rooftop. Meg was on the ground, her body bent at all kinds of wrong angles. Blood pooled beneath her head.

“Sharon!” Dean yelled from across the road.

I looked up at him.

“You alright?” he asked.

I nodded. I was fine. Injured. But fine. I tried to stand up despite the throbbing in my leg. My leg gave out from the injuries. Curses. I couldn’t even walk.

“Hang on, we’re coming!” Dean said, and he disappeared from sight.

 

“Here,” Dean helped me inside while Sam held the door open. “Pressure.” he took my hand and pressed down on my shoulder.

I hissed in pain, but held pressure just as he suggested.

“I can hold pressure on her leg.” Sam offered.

“Yeah.” Dean moved to the front seat, and Sam got in next to me.

“Thanks.” I leaned back and let Sam press down on the wounds. “You’re hurt too.”

“Shallower than your cuts.” Sam said gently. “Once we’re back at the motel, we’ll stitch you up.”

“Oh, right.” Dean said from the front. “Were you with someone up there?”

“Yeah.” I answered. “John.” I could feel two sets of eyes on me.

“Dad?” both of them said at the same time. They were really brothers weren’t they?

I nodded. “Yeah. he’s here.”

“W-well, where is he now?” Dean stammered from the front.

“Dunno.” I grimaced when Sam pressed too hard. “Sam, gentle.”

“Oh, sorry–” Sam readjusted his hand.

“We’re here.” Dean said, and Baby rocked to a stop.

I let Sam open the door, and watched as Dean moved to get his arms under me. “Wait, what? Dean no.”

“You can’t walk sweetheart.” a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Bastard.” I was too tired to protest. Sam kept a hand on my leg while Dean easily carried me inside.

A giant silhouette in the room had all three of us stiffening. Sam was immediately in front, the cloth abandoned dangling from my leg. He kept his gun trained on the person inside. “Who are you?” he demanded. He flicked the lights on. “Dad?”

“Hey boys.” the man turned around. He was smiling. John was smiling.

I felt Dean’s hands shake under me. “Go.” I pushed on his shoulder. He glanced down at me worriedly. “Go on.”

Sam was already clinging onto John anyway. Dean clenched his jaw tight, but placed me gently on the bed and ran to his father.

“Sam. Dean.” John said as he pulled his boys close and patted both their backs.

“Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry.” Dean’s voice shook.

“It's all right. I thought it might've been.” John then finally turned to me on the bed. “You’re bleeding all over.”

“Yeah. The Daevas got to me.”

John nodded and reached for my leg. “I’ll take care of this one. Sam, get her arm.” I hissed when John patted my knee. “You did good, kid.” He was already snipping my jeans.

I let Sam unbutton my flannel to look at the cut on my arm. “Yeah, well. I’m gonna run out of pants if this keeps going on.” I bit back a whimper when a bottle of whiskey was emptied on each wound. Stupid disinfection.

A glass of whiskey was placed neatly on the floor. “Need me to hold your hand?” Dean asked with a smirk.

I stared at the needles John and Sam were prepping in the glass of whiskey. “Yes actually.”

Dean sat down next to me and clenched my hand. “You two. Be gentle.”

“As long as she stays still.” Sam said. “You ready?”

“Ye– ow!” I felt a wave of dizziness and pain hit me when John just jammed a needle into my leg. No warning? Seriously? “I’m gonna pass out.”

“Dean.” John said simply.

“Here comes the other one.” Sam said and two needles worked in and out of my flesh ruthlessly. Dean let me lean against him, never complaining even as I dug my fingers into his waist to keep myself from going off to la la land.

Then, just as unceremoniously the two Winchesters had started on my wounds, they stopped.

“Done. Whiskey?” John raised the cup where he had disinfected the needles.

I cringed. “No thanks.”

He chuckled and tipped the glass back. “Sam and I will go wash our hands.” Right. Their hands were bloody. With my blood. I looked down at my own bloodied tank top.

I waited for them to finish washing their hands. “I’m gonna go get changed.”

“You’re not moving from here.” John said strictly.

I looked at the men. “Well then all of you are gonna have to leave.”

“Not happening.” John’s voice was commanding.

“Then turn around?” I glared at them all. “Please?”

All three men gave a stiff nod before turning around to look out the window. I sighed in satisfaction and turned around to pull out a fresh set of shirt and jeans. And underwear.

“Wait, should we close the curtains?” Sam whispered. I nodded. Good idea.

“I mean you can’t really see anything from the outside.” Dean responded. “Believe me I tried the other day.” I rolled my eyes. Typical Dean behaviour.

“Let’s preserve what little dignity she has left.” John muttered.

“I heard that!” I reminded them. “I can hear you, you know.”

I didn’t need to look at them to know they were all turning red.

I managed to wiggle into my clothes. “I’m done.” The men visibly relaxed and sat down around me.

“Dad.” Dean started. “You were there, right?”

“Yeah. the girl who took a swan dive. The one you shot.” John pointed at me. “She was the bad guy, right?” It was his commanding voice again.

“Yes, sir.” Sam, Dean, and I answered in unison.

“Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before.”

“The demon has?” Sam was stunned.

“It knows I’m close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell– actually kill it.” John looked angry. His jaw set, and his eyes narrowed.

“How?” Dean asked.

John smiled. “I’m workin’ on that.” His eyes met mine, in a sad manner. The colt. He knew I knew. “You know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Dean and Sam turned to look at me. “Yeah.” I looked down at my feet.

Sam took initiative. “Let us come with you. We'll help.” He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Dean must have given Sam a warning look.

“No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in a crossfire. I don't want you hurt.”

Sam was practically begging at this point. “Dad, you don't have to worry about us.”

“Of course I do. I'm your father.” John brought his head down on his hands and sighed. “Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” I cut in. “Are you still blaming yourself for that?” John’s icy blue eyes looked up at me. My throat throbbed. “Look, it was my fault, alright? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You were trying to keep him safe.” John reminded me.

Sam nodded too. “If I hadn’t continued my relationship with Jess, then maybe all this–” he looked away.

“Bad communication.” Dean said softly. “It was no one’s fault. Can we not talk about that right now?”

John nodded. “It was good to see you all again. It’s been a long time.”

Sam ducked into his dad’s chest. John patted his shoulder with one hand and held out the other for Dean, who joined them eagerly.

All three of them trembled ever so slightly, and a tear fell from John’s eyes. I wiped my own from my cheeks and looked down at my feet. I couldn’t hug my family like that ever again. I should have hugged them when I’d had the chance.

“C’mere.” I looked up at John’s tear stained face. “C’mere.” he motioned for me again. Sam and Dean shifted so I could squeeze in between them.

Even through the throbbing of my leg I walked over to them. I let myself sink into the hug, surrounded by warmth, by safety, by love. I closed my eyes and soaked it all in. The sweaty alcohol stench of three burly men who never washed their socks regularly. Their deodorants and cheap gas station body spray had worn off. Normally, I would have cringed, would have pushed away them all and sent them on a shower trip with one of my expensive body washes, but right now it was comforting. And I wished they never changed.

“I’m sorry, son.” John whispered. It was meant for Sam. John pulled away from the hug.  “And you two.” He smiled softly. “You two are doing great.”

Dean and I nodded. “Thanks.”

The moment didn’t last long. With a screech from those Daevas, John was thrown against a wall.

“Dad!” Sam and Dean cried. But they too were thrown against the walls.

Think. Sharon, think. I grabbed my purple phone and turned on the flashlight. The Daevas hissed as they disappeared. I ran for the dresser. My leg threatened to give out from the exertion, but I had to get the flare.

I fished for a lighter in my abandoned bloody flannel on the top of the dresser.

“Behind you!” Dean yelled.

I turned around with my phone and the thing disappeared. Keep going. I lit up a matchstick and lit the end of the flare. “Close your eyes!” I yelled. I ducked from the smoke and the blinding flash of light.

A strong hand was tugging me up and pushing me out the door. “Come on, Sharon.” It was Sam. “Dean, did you get Dad?”

“I did!”

The four of us stumbled out of the room and collapsed against Baby, taking deep breaths, trying to make sense of what just happened. But we had to go. If I knew anything, it was that this place wasn’t safe. “We have to go.” I looked around for my bike.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Sam was next to get his bearings. “As soon as the flare's out, they'll be back.”

I looked around for my bike. “Wait, where’s my–”

“I have him.” John said, and motioned to his truck. Oh. My ride. My sweet sweet ride. He was sitting proudly in the back of John’s truck. “Do you have the keys?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Oh, you’re not driving that with those stitches, sweetheart.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“You’ll pull those things open.” Dean dug his hand into my pockets and fished out the keys.

I tried to snatch it out of his hands, but couldn’t because of the stinging pain in my arm.

“See?” Dean said. He dangled the keys above my head. “Sam, you drive him.”

“Dad can just continue carrying it in the back of his truck.” Sam gave a small laugh.

Dean closed his eyes. “Wait, wait. Sam, wait.” He sighed and turned to John who was already unloading my Kawasaki. “Dad, you can't come with us.”

“What? What are you talkin' about?” Sam whispered.

“We'll be all right.” Dean stood a little taller, a little larger. I held onto his sleeves, reminding him I was there.

“Dean, we should stick together.” Sam was giving his puppy eyes again. “We'll go after those demons–”

“Sam! Listen to me!” Dean’s voice boomed. He sounded almost like John. “We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him.” His voice started to waver. I slipped my hand into his. “I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's-he's stronger without us around.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. John was strong for his sons. He was strong with them. But not with me. If it was anyone dragging down this family, then it was me. I needed John to find the Colt. I had no idea where it was, but I needed it to put my plan in motion. To come up with the perfect ending. To stop the endless cycle of sacrifice the Winchester men loved putting themselves through. Together, maybe, they would have a happier ending.

“Dad, no.” Sam walked over to John who leaned my bike against the Impala. “After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you– please. I gotta be a part of this fight.”

John pulled Sam into another hug. “Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play.” He patted his back firmly. “For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay, you've gotta let me go.” He pulled back with a watery smile. He turned to Dean. “You too Dean.” Dean slipped his hand from mine and shakily let his dad hug him. Two more firm pats on the back. “You’re doing great, son.” Then John turned to me.

I stood still as he put his arms around me. I hesitantly put my arms around his shoulders. He was huge. Sam was tall, but lanky. Dean was huge too, but not as big as John. His beard tickled my cheeks and his military style haircut was rough under my fingertips. It was such a dad hug. It took too much willpower to not break down into tears. I hadn’t hugged my dad in so many years. Never had when I had the chance. And now I missed it. I held onto John tighter.

He clapped me twice on my good shoulder. My whole body shook from the amount of firm but gentle force. “Keep taking care of them for me, will ya?” I nodded. Because if I spoke I would break down. I curled my fingers into a fist and knocked twice on John’s back, just how the brothers had done with their dad. He chuckled. “Gotta work on that, kid.”

He pulled away with a smile and walked back to his truck. Sam and Dean stood on either side of me, tall and unwavering, but all three of our tears were threatening to spill out.

“Be careful.” John said before climbing into his truck. The headlights cut through the dark night and the engine rumbled to life. The giant truck slowly backed away and John was gone.

 

“Come on.” Dean said, once the truck was out of sight. He tossed my keys to Sam. “Wanna lead?”

“Where are we going?” Sam put on the helmet.

“Anywhere.” Dean said, getting into the car. He gave me a strange look. “Get in the car.”

Sam leaned down to my level to whisper. “Everything okay between you two?”

“I think so.” I shrugged. “Probably just on edge.” I looked at Sam who looked exhausted. “We all are. Let’s just keep moving, yeah?” I bumped his shoulder with my fist. “We’ll find a different town, regroup, and get things sorted out.”

“Yeah.” Sam nodded. “Sounds good.”

He and I both got onto our respective rides.

Once Sam had started driving in front of us, Dean rolled up his window. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“The things you’ve been saying.” Dean’s grip was tight on the wheel. “You’re not answering.”

“I have been.”

“No, you haven’t.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I knew exactly what he was talking about.”

“You and I both damn well know you do.” Dean’s face was blank. “So spit it out. Makes this easier on the both of us.”

“I have nothing to say.” I looked out the window. “If this is about me refusing to wash your socks then fine. I’ll do it tomor–”

I jumped when he slammed his hand down on the wheel. “I’m not kidding.” he snapped his head to look at me. He was crying.

“Dean?” I moved to the middle of the bench and reached for his face.

He leaned away. “Stop.”

“Dean. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.” he took a breath, but it was shaky. “First Sammy leaves for college. Then dad disappears to hunt this demon. And now you’re talking like–” He inhaled sharply.

I bit the insides of my cheeks.

“And now you’re talking like you’re gonna- you’re gonna–” He didn’t finish the sentence. “You know what I mean.”

I did.

“So tell me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I remained silent.

He laughed. “Sweetheart this has to be some terrible joke.” His eyes widened when I still didn’t respond. “Tell me I’m being a dumbass. Tell me I’m wrong .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart. You’re not gonna die- you’re not gonna die- you’re not gonna die like mom– like Jess almost did.”

A loophole. “I won’t.” I whispered. I clenched his hand in mine. “I won’t, Dean. I wouldn’t leave you like that.”

His hand gripped mine so tight, I could feel the silver of my ring digging into my already rubbed raw skin. “Everything will be alright.”

Because I would make sure everything turned out fine.

Notes:

too lazy to rant at this hour. have fun. things will get painful soon. but we got a break with the GHSOTFACERS next episode/chapter, WOOHOO.

Chapter 23: Hell House

Summary:

"Dean took the chance to tease. “I thought you liked the shirt on.”
Oh right. I’d said that at some point. And yeah, he did look hot with the shirt on. But I wanted his skin on mine.
He straightened up and grinned. “Want a show?”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. First time writing smut. Like actual smut.
2. Terrible idk what to do with this episode either.
Sorry for the late update, I've been failing four exams this past week and I had an interview for a research opportunity in frigging Missouri. But I forgot I had a wedding to attend in the summer and the research program is also in the summer so now I have to cancel my flight tickets and I'll lose more money which sucks. the fact that the only reason the wedding even is in summer is cause I'm gonna start prepping for the MCAT by the end of this summer break and my future aunt in law is upset about it so I can't even not show up after all this chaos. T_T My life sucks. Anyway here's some smut as an apology.

Richardson, Texas. We were finally getting so close to the place that used to be my home. I’d been avoiding the Dallas area for ages, ever since I somehow ended up in this world. I’d avoided anything that could even make me start wanting to go find my address. What if my parents and brother existed in this universe too? I doubted I could handle seeing them.

But now I wanted to see my hometown, or the area at least. Just one last time. Not to mention this was the Ghostfacers episode– Dean and Sam went to Richardson like once in the show–, and like hell I was missing the frigging Ghostfacers! They had been my favorite recurring side characters. Hilarious dudes, hilarious gay moments, and absolutely banger plotlines.

This was the one with the haunted house. The one with the creepy old farmer Tulpa that hung up women. And the Ghostfacers messed up their blogpost on how to kill the Tulpa with the iron bullets. It was kind of vague in my mind, but I could still remember rolling around the living room floor with laughter.

A very familiar tune played in my ears. I grinned at the iPod propped on my bike. God’s Menu by Stray Kids. Hell yeah. Hurray for Kpop songs from the future. I pushed my bike a little faster.

On beat I managed to overtake the Impala. “NE SONNIM!” I yelled at the boys in the Impala and shot past them.

“Oh hell no!” I heard Dean’s voice yell from behind and heard Baby speed up to catch up with me. But there was no way he would win a race against me in that Impala. It was an empty road, so I pushed my bike faster.

“TAKE A RIGHT SIXTY MILES DOWN.” Sam yelled.

I made an okay symbol with my hand and continued speeding. I turned up the volume in my earbuds.

‘Cooking like a chef, I’m a five star Michelin.’

I grinned as the wind picked up. Oh, how I loved my life.

 

The boys and I ended up at some fast food place.

‘Rodeo Drive’ read the sign with a giant cowboy hat in the middle. ‘Texan sized burgers!’ it said on the bottom.

Yep. This was the Texas I knew. Kind of. I looked around. No suburban sprawls. No rows of identical houses, and not a single other Indian in sight. This was what Texas used to be. Wow. I suddenly felt out of place. Texas was supposed to feel like home, especially Richardson. But this… this wasn’t what I remembered.

“Hey, Dean.” I said to Dean while Sam scanned the place for someone with information. “Can we hit the national park before we go anywhere else?”

His green eyes were like daggers digging into my skull. “Yeah. For our anniversary, right?”

No. I wanted to go there before that. Because I doubted I would ever have time again. I forced a smile. “Can I not want to visit a national park purely for tourist purposes?”

Dean’s voice was low and steady. “If we have time.” He wasn’t going to let me visit there, was he? This was some futile way for him to cling on. That must be his thought process. After all, if he didn’t grant my final wish, I couldn’t die, right? I tugged on his sleeve to pull him down to kiss his cheek. I felt it twitch into a smile under my lips. Oh, Dean. I just wanted him to be happy.

 

“It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life, I swear to God.”

“From the moment we walked in, the walls were painted black.”

“Red.”

“I think it was blood.”

“All these freaky symbols.”

“Crosses and stars and…”

“Pentagons.”

“Pentacostals.”

“Whatever, I had my eyes closed the whole time.”

“But I can damn sure tell you this much. No matter what anyone says…”

“That poor girl.”

“With the black…”

“Blonde…”

“Red hair, just hanging there.”

“Kicking!”

“Without even moving!”

“She was real.”

“One hundred percent.”

“And kinda hot. Well you know in a dead sort of way.”

All three different witnesses with different testimonies only had one consistent detail.
“Craig took us.”

 

We ended up in a records shop. I was blanking in this place. I knew the names of some of the bands. There was Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Queen, etc. etc.

Dean flitted through a few of them before joining Sam up at the counter. A young boy stepped out from behind the counter with a confused smile. “Hey there,” he said. “Can I help you with anything?”

Sam started us off. “Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?”

The boys looked even more confused. “I am.”

“Well we're reporters with the Dallas Morning News. I'm Dean, this is Sam. And this is Sharon.”

Craig laughed. “No way. Well I'm a writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine.”

“Well, good for you Morrisey.” Dean quipped. I jammed my boot into his shin. He winced.

“Umm.” Sam glared at his brother. “We're doing an article on local hauntings and rumor has it you might know of one.”

“You mean the Hell House?” Craig asked.

“Yeah that.” I nodded. “That one.” with the Ghostfacers.

“I didn't think there was anything to the story.” Craig looked at us skeptically.

“Well, why don’t you tell us and we’ll see if it makes the news?” I smiled.

Oh, he was more than happy to share the story. “Well, supposedly back in the '30s this farmer, Mordachai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters.” Dean, Sam, and I listened carefully. “It was during the depression, his crops were failing, he didn't have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end.”

“How?” questioned Sam.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them.” Craig’s hands waved around wildly as he continued his story. “They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung 'em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished he just turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside.”

“Where’d you hear all this?” Dean asked.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don't know where she heard it from. Ya gotta realise, I didn't believe this for a second.” Craig laughed.

“But now you do.” Sam pointed out.

Craig shook his head, almost like he was going into a panic. “I don't know what the hell to think man. You guys, I tell you exactly what I told the police ok? That girl was real. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, ok?” He looked at me. “You gotta believe me.”

I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to talk to me directly. I nodded slowly. “Alright. Thanks.”

 

Next stop. The Hell House. Dean led the way through the muddy forest, and I followed after him. My boots were caked in mud by the time we got to the house and Sam snickered at the sight. “How’s the mud?”

“Like I wanna soak you in it.” I kicked it up a little in his direction.

He laughed and stepped away. He looked up at the broken down wooden house. “I can’t say I blame the kid.”

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal.” Dean stared at the house too.

The trees were creepy, looming over everything. And the house was a good distance away from any actual road. A gravelly unpaved road kind of connected the house to the road, but it stopped halfway, leaving the house surrounded by muddy grassland for a good half mile.

The three of us walked around the house, tracking mud everywhere on the wooden floors. There were moth eaten bug chewed up rotting rugs under our feet in random areas. And the kids weren’t kidding when they said there were weird symbols all over the walls.

“EMF.” Dean said and passed out the EMF readers.

The three of us spread out. I walked around the corner of the house. Trees, bushes, shrubs, weeds, plants, and all kinds of wildlife surrounded the house. I stilled as a bunny hopped by happily. This place must have been abandoned for a while. The windows were shattered in places and the roof was starting to cave in. I turned on my EMF and waved it around. The signal was everywhere. I heard two more constant beeps coming from somewhere else around the house. So it wasn’t like my EMF was malfunctioning. I looked up and groaned. Power lines.

I made my way back to the entrance when Dean called for me and Sam.

“Got something?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. The EMF’s no good.” Dean tapped his machine.

“Why?”

“Powerlines.” I gestured to the head of the wooden pole peeking out from behind the house.

Dean agreed. “I think that thing’s still got a little juice in it, it's screwing with all the readings.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, that’d do it.” We all dropped our EMFs back into the bag.

“Come on, let’s go inside.”

 

We walked in, tracking mud everywhere on the wooden floors. There were moth eaten bug chewed up rotting rugs under our feet in random areas. And the kids weren’t kidding when they said there were weird symbols all over the walls. We entered the main living room. The wooden boards creaked under my weight, and I heard a nail fall out from somewhere. I shuddered. The place was rotting out, especially the hallways where sunlight barely reached. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of us came down sick from the black mold I spotted in a corner.

Dean whistled as he looked around at the symbols. “Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger in his time.”

“And after his time too.” Sam launched into a historical rant. “That reverse cross has been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the '60s.”

Dean scoffed. “That is exactly why you never get laid.”

I stared at a symbol that looked like an upside down question mark. Except there was a cross with a dot on top of the question mark. Dean came up next to me to squint at it. “Do you know that one?”

“No.” Sam replied as he approached us from across the room.

“I have.” Dean mumbled. “Somewhere.”

Sam reached out to touch it. I slapped his hand away. Was he seriously touching those things on those musty walls?

Sam rubbed his offended hand. “It’s just paint,” he huffed. He lifted his hand up where the paint had stuck. “Seems pretty fresh too.”

“I don't know man. You guys know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind…” Dean shrugged. “But the cops may be right about this one.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Sam hummed. The two men turned around.

No, it was a tulpa! I grabbed their hands. “We should look a little more into this, no?” I tried to keep the boys from leaving already.

A sudden noise had all three of us on alert. Dean pulled me to press on one side of the door. Sam raised his gun on the other side. Dean and I did the same. The three of us nodded at each other. We pushed through the door, only to flinch and duck when a bright light stung our eyes.

“Oh, cut. It’s a buncha humans.” drawled a disappointed voice.

I blinked my eyes a few times to readjust them when the bright light shut off. What the hell?

“What are you guys doing here?” grumbled one of the men.

I knew them. The Ghostfacers! I tried to contain my excitement. I lowered my gun and pushed down on Dean’s arm. “Just people, guys.” I said to the brothers.

Dean and Sam lowered their weapons. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”

The Ghostfacers laughed. “We belong here, we're professionals!”

Sam’s and Dean’s faces were hilarious. They were so damn stunned. It took too much willpower to keep myself from bursting into laughter. Man, I really loved the Ghostfacers.

“Professional what?” Dean babbled.

“Paranormal investigators.” one of the guys grinned and offered Dean a business card. He then passed one to me and Sam. “There you go. Take a look at that.” the one without the glasses winked in my direction. Oh? That was Ed wasn’t it?

“Oh you gotta be kidding me.” Dean tugged me back next to him. Oh, ho, ho. I liked this development.

“Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler?” Sam read off the business card. “Hellhoundslair.com, you guys run that website.”

“Yeah.” Ed grinned.

“Oh yeah, yeah, we're huge fans.” Dean lied.

“Awesome website.” I chimed. Dean glared when Ed puffed out his chest at the compliment.

“And uhh, we know who you guys are too.”

Sam and Dean looked at them sharply, gaining back all the tension they’d just begun to release.

“Oh yeah?” Sam tested.

“Amateurs.” Dean lost interest in them immediately. He wandered around to another wall to look at the symbols on them. “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills… see who gets the girl…” Ed gave me another smirk. “We’re the real deal here.”

Dean was once again at my side, suddenly very interested in playing with my braids. His hands were warm every time they brushed against my skin. And the slight tug on my hair was nice. What was even nicer was when Dean placed a quick kiss on my lips while glaring at the Ghostfacers. I really liked this. It wasn’t one for PDA, but his jealous antics were kind of cute. Ed blinked in surprise but held his calm. Out of the corner of my eye, Sam was trying to hold back his laughter.

Harry cleared his throat. “Yep. So if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here.”

Dean straightened up to his full height and cocky manner. “Yeah, what have you got so far?”

Ed straightened up, trying to look bigger. “Harry, why dontcha tell 'em about EMF?”

“Well…” Harry fished for his own EMF reader.

Sam played along. “EMF?”

“Electromagnetic field.” Harry said, finally pulling out his reader. “Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector. Like this bad boy right here.” He turned it on. Dean, Sam, and I watched on, amused. “Whoah, whoah.” Harry’s eyes grew wide with excitement. “It’s 2.8mg.”

“2.8.” Ed nodded. “It’s hot in here.”

Dean nodded. “I agree with that.” Something told me that he didn’t mean the EMF. Maybe it was the hand that he’d managed to snake around my waist.

“Wow.” Sam simply said.

Dean drummed his fingers on my waist. “So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…”

Ed nodded. “Once. We were, uh… we were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table…”

“By itself.” Harry added.

Ed looked at me, hoping for me to be impressed, maybe. But when Dean frigging Winchester had his arm around your waist and the two of you had two matching rings… it took a lot more than a few ghost sightings to impress you.

But I was enjoying the jealous look on Dean’s face. So I teased. “So you guys, like, saw it fall?”

Sam snorted, but covered it up with a cough. “Sorry, sorry. I think I… breathed down the wrong pipe.”

“So?” Dean demanded. “Did you guys actually see it?”

“Well we didn't actually see it, we heard it.” Ed rambled. “And something like that… it uh… it changes you.”

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled me along. “Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work.”

“Yeah, you should.” Ed said, as we left the building.

The second we were out, Sam and I doubled over in laughter.

“Dean’s face!” Sam laughed. “The whole time!”

I curled up into a ball, clutching my side from laughter. “Dude, you should have seen it! Best day of my life, ever!”

Dean made a face, sticking out his tongue and muttering something under his breath. “Come on you geeky nerds. You two can hit the books.”

I pushed myself up and clutched onto his jacket with a huge grin. “For someone who hates PDA, you sure went all out.”

“Oh, that was a sight .” Sam kept cackling. “And Ed’s face!”

“Bro was ready to fight Dean .”

“Yeah, and I would have won.”

“Of course, you would win, man. It would be sad if you lost!” Sam teased.

“Alright. You two can shut up.” Dean snapped. But a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. “Library for you two.” He muttered. “I feel like I’m babysitting.”

“But you love us anyway.” I grinned as he got into his car. “Where are you going?”

“Police station.” He said. Baby rumbled to a start. “See you guys in a few hours.”

 

I hopped off my bike as Sam pulled into a parking spot. “You’re being surprisingly generous.” He climbed off next.

“What can I say? I’m a nice sister.” I waited for him to finish chaining up the bike.

We walked up the stairs of the public library and found a quiet spot in a corner. “I’ll go ask the librarian for death records,” said Sam.

“I’ll check that hellhoundslair website. You know if there’s any sources listed.”

“Good idea.”

A while later, we were still looking. “Anything?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Sam looked up from the final file he had. “You?”

“No sources. No nothing. Just found a forum filled with locals talking about it though.” I showed him the long conversations. “All young people. The lore is more recent. It’s not old. If it were, the old peeps would be saying something. But here…” I squited as I read. “‘I’ve never heard of a Mordechai and I’ve lived here for seventy years. You kids need to shut up.’ Obviously that didn’t settle well with the others.”

Sam frowned. “This case gets weirder and weirder.”

Yeah, no kidding.

 

Sam and I walked down the stairs to meet up with Dean who was leaning against the Impala.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Sam and I replied back. I hopped on Baby’s hood as we talked.

“What you got?” Dean asked.

“Well I couldn't find a Mordechai but I did find a Martin Murdock who lived in that house in the '30s.” Sam said. “He did have children but only two of them, both boys and there's no evidence he ever killed anyone.”

“Huh.” Dean nodded in amusement.

“Forums say there’s no Mordechai. It’s mostly young peeps too. So it’s obviously a more recent thing.”

“Yeah.” Dean said. “That’s kind of what I got. I hit up the police station. No matching missing persons, it's like she never existed. Dude come on, we did our digging, this one's a bust all right. For all we know those hellhound boys made up the whole thing.” Dean pushed off the car and started walking around to the driver’s side. I quickly turned to look at Sam. Surely he would look further into it?

“Yeah, alright.” Sam threw his hands and moved to open the door of the Impala.

“Wai-wai-wait!” I grabbed both the brothers. “What if something really is going on?”

Dean and Sam paused to look at me with eyebrows raised. “This an episode?”

The look on my face was enough explanation. “Well, okay then.” Dean ran a hand down his face. “Well we don’t exactly have any leads so far…” He looked at Sam. “Anything we can work on?”

Sam shook his head. “I got nothin’.” He turned to me. “You?”

I shook my head too. I really had nothing for us to go off of. But something happened that did give us something to do. I just had no idea what or when.

“Guess we’ll just go back to the motel now.” Sam shrugged. “The spirit or whatever doesn’t seem to be violent. I mean– all the people that walked in walked out fine.”

I nodded. “I’ll monitor the site. See if anything changes.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dean got in the car.

“I’ll grab food.” I told the brothers.

“Pie.” Dean pointed at me accusingly. “Don’t you dare forget about the pie.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sam is the one that forgets the pie, not me.”

“Then prove it!” Dean twisted the key in the ignition, and ‘Gasolina’ started playing at full volume. The wipers on Baby went wild and Dean jumped in shock. “Whoah! What the fuck.” He quickly turned off everything. He turned to glare at Sam who was snickering. I had to bite my cheeks to keep myself from laughing. “That’s all you got? Sweet.” Dean accused.

He continued dishing out insults at his brother and I made my way to my bike, finally letting myself giggle once the brothers’ laughter trailed off in the distance. I swung my leg over the seat and adjusted my helmet over my head. Time to get that pie.

 

“I come bearing pie.” I placed the plastic box on the table. Dean wasted no time in shoving his head inside the packet to make sure it was what he expected. He looked up with a satisfied grin. “And chicken salad for the cutest giant.” Sam mouthed a thank you before opening up his packet more humanely than his brother. He blinked in surprise at two boxes in that packet.

“What else you got for me?” Dean looked up eagerly.

“Chicken salad for you too.” I picked up the box Sam wasn’t holding and handed it to the horrified man.

“I’m not eating this.”

“Then no pie.” I snatched the pie from his hands.

He glared. “Hey, give that back!”

“Eat your salad and maybe.”

“Oh yeah, what did you get for yourself huh?”

“Quesadilla.” I pulled out my own dinner. “They charged me extra for chicken instead of beef.”

“Right. Cause money grows on trees.” Dean scoffed. He reluctantly opened his salad box.

“A girl’s gotta eat, dude.” I bit into the cheesy chicken rich tortilla. “Oh this is heaven.”

“So you get cheese but I don’t?” Dean stared longingly at the string of cheese that extended past the quesadilla and into my mouth. “I could just eat it off of you.”

Sam audibly swallowed. “Um. Guys.” He looked at us with wide eyes. “I’m still here.” He pushed another leaf into his mouth.

“Keep eating, you rabbit.” Dean waved him off.

“Oh, there’s mayo.” I reached for the packet which Sam just looked into.

“There isn’t mayo.” Sam said through a mouthful.

I frowned. “I’m pretty sure it was right there. I know I put a few packets in.”

“I’m not eating this.” Dean cringed at the leaves staring back at him. “Oh, the smell.” He gagged when he spotted an olive.

“Fine then.” I shrugged. “Starve. I’ll take the pie back.”

“Maybe you should start eating healthier Dean.” Sam taunted.

“Oh fuck you.” Dean spat. He gingerly licked at a lone tomato before putting it inside his mouth. This was hilarious. “God.” He grumbled but slowly made his way through half the box. “If I turn into a skinny wendigo it’ll be your fault.” He said while staring me down. I shrugged. Empty threats. “How is this real food? Do people really eat this?” He continued grumbling through bites.

Suddenly Sam turned the packet upside down, with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh look. There really was mayo inside.”

The box slammed shut and Dean was tackling Sam down to the dingy motel floor. “Oh you son of a bitch!” he snarled.

Sam simply laughed under his brother’s hold.

“Fight in the hallway!” I cheered from my seat while the brothers wrestled.

I felt my throat close up at the way they both shook with laughter even as they rolled on the floor, getting mayo all over their clothes as the packets burst under their combined weight. They looked so happy, so free. I ripped my eyes away from them and watched the scene through the reflection on the window, blinking away a stubborn tear. I had to protect this peace. I had to make sure these moments never stopped. I had to. I needed to.

 

“Up, sweetheart.”

I pulled the covers over my head.

“Come on up.” I frowned as the covers were ripped off from my person.

“What?” I tried to squint my eyes into focus.

“We gotta go.” Dean said. He was already pulling me up in bed. I glanced at the red glare of the bedside clock.

“Why?” I shivered in the cold. It was barely 6:15.

“There’s been a death.” Sam said, rushing out of the bathroom, dressed in a shirt and a flannel over it.

Death. “Oh.” I looked down at the sheets I’d been laying in just moments ago. I was sleeping while someone was getting killed. I closed my eyes and forced the thought away. I had no way of knowing what happened. It wasn’t my fault. Except I knew it was. I should have insisted on keeping watch. Not sleeping.

“Come on.” Dean pushed me gently again. “We gotta go. Before this thing kills more people.”

Right. We had to save the others.

 

“What happened?” Dean asked a police officer. He stood with his shoulders rolled back, and his back straight. He looked confident. I was just doing my best to not sneeze.

“A girl hung herself in the house.” the police said. A girl was being rolled out in a stretcher, her face covered by a white sheet. She was dead.

“Suicide?” Sam chimed.

“Yeah. She was a straight A student, with a full ride to UT too. It just don't make sense.” the police officer sighed. “Sorry fellas, but I gotta go.” He disappeared into a police car. Had he even noticed me?

“Something is definitely going on here.” Dean frowned at the yellow Caution tapes and the policemen that kept circling the premise.

“The thing doesn’t come out till night.” Sam pointed out. “Maybe we should wait until it’s dark.”

“Yeah.”

“No.” I cut in. “What if something happens?”

Dean and Sam both looked at me with concern. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. I'm fine.” I was always fine. “Sorry, I’m just a little on edge.” I wasn’t exactly lying. “Let’s go grab breakfast or something. I’ll monitor the website.”

 

So now we were back at the motel, digging into gas station food for the umpteenth time in our lives. I kept hitting refresh on the hellhounds website. Nothing new, other than some people complaining about how they couldn’t get in because of the police– only thing they were good for. Mordechai still showed up at night. Now unless someone changed it to day, I decided to stay cooped up on the moth-eaten armchair.

“We’re like sitting ducks.” Dean said, his patience already wearing thin. “Can’t we at least hit a dive? I want a drink.”

“Yeah.” Sam looked up from his book. “I’m not sure there is anything we can do at this hour. Sharon, you wanna come with?”

Oh, they were both leaving. “No, I’m good.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Dean insisted. He sauntered over and slammed the laptop shut.

I scowled at him. “Dude. I was on the page.”

“And nothing has happened in the past three hours.” He jerked his thumb to the window. “Unless we’re closing the curtains and kicking Sammy out for some alone time, I really don’t see why we should stay locked up in here.”

“Again. I’m still here.” Sam drawled.

“Go talk to Jess or something.” Dean waved him off.

“People could die.” I tried to open the laptop again, but Dean’s hand pushed down harder.

“They could.” His hand covered mine. It was warm, comforting. “And sitting in here isn’t gonna do anything. So I say. Put on your best dress and we get out of here.” His eyes roamed my body and his smirk grew. “Bring your laptop to the bar or something. Free wifi.”

“For once, I think he’s right.” Sam chimed. “The thing isn’t gonna show up till night. According to the latest eyewitness accounts on that website.”

They weren’t wrong. I sighed. “Fine. But we’re leaving for the Hell House as soon as the sun sets. And.” I pushed an accusing finger against Dean’s chest. Damn, it was firm. “Don’t you dare close my laptop.”

Dean took the hand I had on his chest and wrapped it around his neck. He tilted my chin up for a kiss. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.” God, he was so damn smooth.

 

So here we were. Me in a nice black knee length dress, trying to keep it out of the mud as we crouched behind a pile of bushes, while the brothers just got mud all over them without a care in the world.

“Guess the cops don’t want anyone else screwing around in there.” Sam muttered.

A flashlight got dangerously close to our spot and Dean pressed himself tighter against my shoulder. “Yeah but we still gotta get in there.”

The rustling of dead leaves and hushed whispers got our attention.

“I don’t believe it.” Dean hissed in annoyance.

Ed and Harry were just a ways from us, crouching behind a tree. They had all kinds of devices and gadgets wrapped around them and were whispering but also shushing each other. They looked like two adorable toddlers trying to sneak cookies out of a jar. Man, they really were the funniest.

Dean broke out into the most devious grin. “I got an idea.”

Sam and I looked on in mild amusement as Dean cupped his hands around his mouth. “Who you gonna call?!” he yelled.

“Ghostbusters!” Sam yelled too with a stupid grin on his face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep myself from bursting into giggles as Ed and Harry snapped their heads in our direction.

“It’s her!” Ed cried.

Dean wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me further away from the Ghostfacers. I glanced back to make sure Sam was following, and sure enough he was hot on our heels while turning back to watch the fun.

The cops were already yelling and I had no doubt that the Ghostfacers had been caught. Oh well. They were gonna be fine. We finally stopped when we were far enough and heaved against a particularly large tree.

“Oh this is so funny.” I giggled.

“Those guys are stupid.” Dean chuckled.

“Tell me about it.” Sam laughed.

“Freeze. Run! Come on! Get back here. Hey!” The cops were finally out of earshot. The three of us sobered up.

“Go, go.” Dean said after a quick glance around the perimeter.

Sam and I ran off into the house and Dean joined us soon.

“Here.” Sam broke out the rifles and passed one to me and Dean each.

“Where have I seen this symbol before?” Dean smacked his flashlight as he tried to think. “It’s killing me!”

“The cops will be back soon if we don’t keep moving.” I reminded the man.

He nodded and followed me and Sam down into the basement.

Basement. Ew. The place stank. I was pretty sure I would come down with some sort of incurable illness with all the mold and dust I had been inhaling for the past few days. I froze when a giant spider slithered down its web right in front of my face. Oh God.

Dean’s hand swiped at the web and the spider vanished from my sight. I turned around to see my knight in shining armor grinning down cockily. “You can fight a ghost without a problem and a spider is where you draw the line?” He left me standing on the stairs and joined his brother in exploring the basement.

I shuddered. It wasn’t like ghosts and monsters didn’t petrify me. They did. Man, sometimes I couldn’t sleep at night from it. Every night, I had to roll away from Dean ever so slightly so he wouldn’t notice the racing of my heart as the nightmares tore through my mental walls. Bugs though, were different. They weren’t exactly something that could kill me, but they scared me anyway. And Dean loved feeling useful when he successfully got rid of something scary from my sight. I could give that to him. And I did like it when he comforted me after a particularly bad fright. I felt myself staring as the brothers got into another squabble, something about drinking the liquid in the jars. Disgusting. No doubt it was Dean’s idea.

“Are yall done arguing?” I asked. “The police are gonna be back if we don’t get out soon.”

“Right. Right.” Dean muttered a curse under his breath as Sam gave him one final shove. The sound of something crashing had us stiffening. Sam looked at the cabinet right next to him. He caught Dean’s eye and at his nod, he opened the cabinet door.

I couldn’t help the shriek that left my mouth when a stream of rats flowed out of the cabinet. Dean lifted his feet to avoid stepping on the rats and I took a few steps up the stairs, ready to run. But the rats were more interested in the holes in the walls and didn’t even try climbing up.

“Argh! I hate rats!” Dean spat as the final one squeaked by.

“You’d rather it was a ghost?” Sam snickered. His eyes widened as he looked at me. No, behind me. “Sharo–”

I shot at whatever was behind me, not even registering what or who. My hands shook when the thing in front of me didn’t budge. Mordechai. He swung an axe down in my direction and I was pulled back by Dean’s strong hands.

Sam shot a couple more times, but he was still there.

“What the hell?” Dean said in disbelief.

I readied my gun and shot one more time. Mordechai turned into a mist and disappeared, clearing the stairs. “We gotta go.”

“What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam said from behind me as we ran up the stairs.

“I dunno.” Dean said from in front.

And then, in stellar fashion, I tripped on the last step. Flipping hell. Dean was immediately hauling me up.

“Sharon.” Sam stopped to help, but Dean shoved him towards the door.

“Get out of here, Sam.” I winced at the throbbing on my knee. Blood was starting to trickle down. Could I not get injured on a hunt? “Shoulda worn jeans.”

Mordechai appeared again, swinging his axe. I pulled Dean down so his head wouldn’t get sliced off.

“Son of a–”

Sparks flew around us as Mordechai hit something electrical.

I forced my legs to move and Dean and I managed to stumble out of the house to an anxiously waiting Sam.

“Go, go, go.” Dean said, glancing back every now and then.

Sam and I turned around to run only to be stopped by a camera. Instinctively I lifted my hand up to cover the lens. “What the hell? Dude we gotta go.”

“Come on.” Sam grabbed my wrist and tugged me around Ed and Harry.

“I recommend yall run too!” I yelled at the Ghostfacers who were staring dumbfounded at Mordechai standing at the door.

“Sweet lord…” “Of the rings…” The two men whispered in shock. “Oh no, cops!”

I didn’t even bother looking back. Those guys would be fine.

 

“What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me.” Dean traced the upside question mark over the worn out paper once again. “This whole damn job's buggin' me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks.”

“I mean it swung at Sharon first.” Sam said from the other bed.

“Yeah, and then it tried to kill me .” Dean pointed out.

“That makes sense.” Sam snickered. “It’s easy to mistake you for a woman.”

The retort out of Dean’s mouth was instant. “Shut it, Sammy. I’m not the one with Disney Princess hair.”

“The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?” Sam ignored the jab.

“Yeah.”

“What’s up with that? And the axe too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict right? Following the same patterns over and over again?”

“But this mook keeps changing.”

I refreshed the Hell Hounds website page. “Guys.” I motioned them over.

They crowded over my shoulders, staring at the website.

“What’re we looking at?” Dean squinted.

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site.” Sam muttered in realisation. “'They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity.’” He read.

Dean suddenly shot up with the paper crumpled in his hands.

“What?” Sam and I looked up.

“I think I might have just figured out where it all started.” Dean looked back down with a grin.

 

Dean had finally figured out that the symbol belonged to some weird band in the record store. He stormed in with a flourish of his arms and picked up an album. It had the upside down question mark symbol in blue. Sam gave me a confused glance but kept quiet and let his brother do all the talking.

“Hey Craig? Remember us?”

Craig lifted his head from the counter weakly. “Guys, look I'm really not in the mood to answer any of your questions ok?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and threw the album on the counter. “Oh don't worry. We're just here to buy an album, that's all.” He spun the album so that Craig was looking straight at the symbol. Dean turned to Sam. “You know I couldn't figure out what that symbol was and then I realised that it doesn't mean anything. It's the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult.” He then turned his attention to Craig again. “Tell me Craig, You into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people? Know why don't you tell us about that house… without lying through your ass this time.”

Craig sighed. “All right, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU.” Oh wow, I had thought about going there for college. “I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So we painted symbols on the wall, some from albums, some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so… we made up some story to go along with that.” His voice trembled. “So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I thought it was funny at first but… that girl's dead!” He grabbed at his hair. “It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we just made the whole thing up. I swear!”

“All right.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and tugged him out of the store before we traumatised the kid even more.

“If none of it was real how the hell do you explain Mordechai?” Dean said once we were outside the store.

I almost slapped my hand to my forehead. How did they not know what a Tulpa was? Dean and Sam from later episodes would have figured it out in less than a minute after that piece of information!

 

Sam locked himself in the shower and I monitored the laptop like a hawk. Dean was out getting supplies or whatever. He promised me a bottle of coke and a bag of trail mix, even offering to pick out the raisins if I kept my mouth shut about whatever he was going to do.

I hit refresh on the page again. Nothing new. Just a few comments about how people were terrified that a girl had now died in the house. But Mordechai was still imprisoned in the house. Thank God. as long as the police did their job we would be fine.

The door knob twisted and I instinctively reached for my gun.

“Hey, I’m back.” Dean called.

Oh it was just Dean. I sank back against the pillows.

“Hey,” Sam said from the shower.

Dean gave me a cheeky boyish smirk before pulling out a packet labelled ‘itching powder’. Oh my God. I glanced at the door to the bathroom.

‘Seriously?’ I mouthed.

He just gave a suppressed laugh before reaching for the underwear Sam had left on his bed. Oh dear God.

“So I think I might have a theory about what's going on.” Sam said from the shower, still oblivious to the prank his brother was getting ready to pull.

‘Shh,’ Dean pressed a hand to his mouth as he popped the top of a cold bottle of coke. He gave it to me as if appeasing a little baby. Oh well, not my problem… “Oh yeah?” Dean asked and he ripped the packet open with his teeth.

I rolled away from the crime and tried to ignore the sprinkling sound of itching powder landing on the underwear. Poor kid. But coke was worth it. I would make a homemade salad for Sam later. No pie for Dean.

“What if Mordechai is a Tulpa?” Oh thank God! Sam had a brain.

“Tulpa?” Dean glanced at the door in alarm when the knob started to turn noisily. He quickly hid the packet behind his back.

Sam walked out with nothing but his towel around his waist. I looked away respectfully. “Yeah, a Tibetan thought form.”

It would be wrong to say I didn’t like the abs and muscles on Sam. Dean was a force to be reckoned with, but Sam? The added height only made his muscles look larger. Dean settled in next to me, kicking his boots off and glancing down at my nightgown. “You wanna go out in that, sweetheart?”

I looked up at his teasing green eyes and pushed his cheek away. “I plan on staying right here. I’m too tired.” I lifted my gown enough to reveal the bandaged knee. “This thing hurts anyway.” I felt a warmth settle in my stomach when Dean’s large hand reached out to gently brush over the bandage. He was so warm.

“I’m gonna go get dressed while you two keep flirting.” Sam said, unimpressed. “You guys want dinner?”

“Yes please.” I watched warily as Sam picked up the ruined underwear and walked casually back into the bathroom with the rest of his clothes in hand.

“I wanna take a shower too.” Dean said with a wink. His hand settles lazily on my hip. I knew what he wanted. And honestly? Why not? The website hadn’t changed a bit. I doubted it would any time soon.

It didn’t take long for Sam to scamper out of the bathroom, cringing with mock disgust when Dean all but pranced into the bathroom.

“Disgusting. You two.” Sam shook his head. He reached for the keys Dean had left for him on the table and left the room, but not before yelling “Don’t make me an uncle!”

Dean’s laughter from the bathroom was loud.

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Dean sang as he buried his face in my chest. “Missed this.”

His weight was heavy over my hips and between my legs. His arms created a perfect cage around my head, so no matter where I looked, it was just him. Him and him only.

“Dean,” I whispered his name and he looked up. God he was beautiful. “Oh, Dean–”

“Love it when you say my name like that.” his mouth was on mine, biting and pulling at my lower lip with his teeth. “Say it.” I closed my eyes and let him take over. He always did anyway. I hardly knew what I was doing.

“Dean.” I managed when he pulled back ever so slightly to breathe. “Dean,”

His mouth was on mine again immediately, tilting and pushing my head back further into the pillow with his own. His hands had travelled down lower. They were now pushing my nightgown up, and the cold air of the motel nipped at my bare skin. I hooked a leg over his waist and he groaned into the kiss. “Shit, sweetheart.” He pulled my nightgown up completely, letting it bunch around my neck. “Still as perfect as ever.” That lopsided smirk was going to be the death of me.

I gasped when his mouth ghosted over my breasts, not really touching, but close enough that I could feel his warm breath all over. Shit. I wanted him. I released the sheets I was clenching and wrapped my hands around his hair. I pushed his head down, smothering him against my chest. He gave out a groan of pleasure. His teeth grazed my skin. God. I shivered right under him. If I looked down, I could see him pulling at my breasts with his teeth. His green eyes glanced up to meet mine. Then with the cheekiest look ever he flicked his tongue over my nipple.

A sound of pleasure escaped my lips. Oh my God. I lifted a hand off his head and threw my arm into my mouth to drown out the noises. Was that all it took to get me excited?

“Aww,” Dean cooed. “Is Sharon embarrassed?” I swatted his head and he laughed into my neck. “I’ll have you screaming soon, don’t worry.”

He removed my arm from my mouth and replaced it with his. This one was hungrier than the last. It was all teeth and tongue and bite.

“Dean.” I clung onto his shoulders. “Dean.” My noises were swallowed by his mouth. I yelped when his hips ground against mine. The zipper of his jeans were rough against the thin cotton of my underwear.

“Fuck.” I couldn’t help but cry when he hit a certain spot.

Dean mock gasped. “Is my sweetheart cussing?”

“Shut up.” I reached for the hem of his shirt and started tugging at it. His muscles were taut under the thin fabric. “Why am I the only one naked?”

Dean took the chance to tease. “I thought you liked the shirt on.”

Oh right. I’d said that at some point. And yeah, he did look hot with the shirt on. But I wanted his skin on mine.

He straightened up and grinned. “Want a show?”

I would be damned if I said no. With a smirk he slowly pulled off that tight shirt. My eyes trailed over that body that looked like it belonged to a Greek God. Perfect muscles, and the way they flexed when he moved. He put all the ancient marble statues to shame. His head tilted sexily as his Samulet went next, clattering onto the nightstand next to us.

Next came his belt. With a swift brush of his fingers, it was gone, and his jeans hung looser on his perfect hips.

He came back down to kiss my lips. “Gotta prepare you before we actually do it.” He slid his ring off his finger and motioned for my wrist. Already used to this routine, I offered him my thumb. He slid both rings off his fingers and onto my waiting digit. Two silver rings that reminded both of us of our promise, and one stainless steel ring battered and bruised from years of opening beer and coke bottles sparkled on my hand. I felt almost proud. I couldn’t admire it for too long before my eyes rolled back in my head. Fucking hell.

His finger had all but plunged in. The elastic of my underwear cut into my sides as he chose to just leave them on. I squeezed my eyes shut at the welcome intrusion. Dammit. I clawed at his shoulders and moaned into his mouth. He made a low guttural noise back, and my whole body vibrated.

His mouth lifted off mine for a split second. It was barely enough time for me to catch my breath. Before I could beg him to touch me again, he was already nipping at the corners of my lips with his teeth.

He dipped another finger in. I couldn't hold back any longer. My hips bucked up. Partly involuntary, and partly because I needed the friction at this point. I felt swollen down there, sensitive as fuck, and Dean’s fingers were relentless. From years of practice he’d mastered exactly which spots to hit.

“God, Dean.” I moaned when he raised his head again. I was squirming by now. There was a pressure building inside. It went down my spine and pooled at my stomach before travelling lower. Lower and lower.

“Come on.” Dean whispered in my ear. “You don’t need permission.”

And I let go. It was a gush of pleasure that had me arching off the bed. My brain was hazy, and my legs felt sticky. My thighs were slick with arousal and God if it didn’t feel good.

“Your legs are shaking.” Dean’s voice had dropped an octave. “Think you’re ready?” He muttered against my lips.

“Mm.” I hummed. I hooked a leg over his waist and he let out a breath as if he was doing his best to hold back.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

The next few moments were a blur. His jeans and underwear lay discarded somewhere on the dusty motel floor, still with mayonnaise stains from the brothers’ fight from earlier. And he’d managed to toss my nightgown and underwear onto Sam’s bed. ‘A little dirty but it’s Sammy he probably cums in his pants when he sees Jess anyway’ Dean had snickered.

“Condom.” I reminded. But it wasn’t like he needed a reminder. He locked me in another kiss. I heard a drawer slide open and soon Dean was pushing a square piece of plastic between my teeth. Oh hell. I clenched my teeth around it as hard as I could and Dean snatched it out with surprising force. I spat out the wrapper still left in my mouth.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Dean groaned. He gave his length two solid pumps with the condom on and I almost came from the sight alone. Dean Winchester was turned on by me . It was still such a surprise. After three years it still made me wonder why me? Boring plain old me with freaky powers that even sent me into a frenzy.

And now he was rocking me in the dingy motel bed. Slow but deliberate movements. His hands clenching mine were probably the only thing that kept me grounded. Sexual pleasure that turned my mind into nothing but fog, yet that made me hyper aware of every breath, every touch against my skin. And he was gentle, oh so gentle. I never thought I would ever get to experience this. Much less with Dean Winchester.

My toes curled up in the way I’d grown used to over the past three years. And the familiar pressure built up again. God fucking dammit.

He was built different. I clawed at his shoulders, repeating his name over and over again. And he kissed me harder every time.

“Wanna come together?” Dean asked breathlessly. He was gasping for air, the muscles in his arms starting to shake as he kept himself up. And yet he sucked at the dip in my collarbone.

“Hell yeah.” I kissed the top of his head. “Count of three?”

“A countdown?” He chuckled.

I wrapped my legs around him a little tighter, and bucked into his hips. “Why not?”

“Good point.” He grunted as he twitched inside me.

Oh holy hell.

“One.” Dean twisted my breasts.

“Two.” I dug one hand into his scalp and the other into his broad shoulders.

“Three.” He drove even deeper somehow, hitting that one sensitive spot that made everything come loose. With a grunt Dean spilled right after me. Oh wow. He took my mouth in his again as we both rode out our waves of pleasure. I kept my arms locked around him as my vision ran white and I saw stars. That felt so damn good. Dean didn’t pull out. Not immediately. He went limp and let his head drop next to mine.

I held him there. He was so damn beautiful. Dean. My Dean. All mine. I ran my fingers over the marks my nails had dug into his skin along with the scratches from the three pieces of metal on my hands, and unhooked my shaking legs from his waist. He whined at the loss but pulled out. Now I felt like whining at the loss of him.

I watched as he went to clean up. The condom was full. And I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to have unprotected sex again. The first and last time for me was our wedding night. We’d both wanted that night to be raw and unfiltered. Literally. Maybe we could have a kid. I closed my eyes. No. That was irresponsible. We didn’t live a life that allowed kids. Lisa and Ben, as much as I had burned from jealousy at those episodes, they really were the representation of what would happen if we got a kid involved. “Jump” Dean had said. To a ten year old boy. Jumping from a window had been safer than whatever would have happened. I couldn’t let my own kids go through that. In case they were ever targets.

I frowned. What a weird train of thought. Baby fever felt weird.

“Round two?”

I snapped out of my thoughts at the teasing tone. I dug a weak foot into Dean’s solid waist. “No. Sammy will be back soon.”

“Cockblocker.” Dean said with affectionate annoyance.

He said that but he was already putting the amulet back around his neck and passing me my nightgown back. He picked up my soiled underwear and raised an eyebrow in my direction.

I rolled my eyes. “Laundry bag.” I pushed myself up on shaky arms and groaned at the sticky mess I’d left on the sheets. “We need new sheets.”

 

Clean sheets felt good. So good. And with Dean acting as my own personal space heater under the fraying motel blankets it felt even better. I hit refresh on the stupid hellhounds page again. Just a new video and the doubling of hits on the website.

“DEAN!”

Dean broke into a smirk when Sam’s voice came yelling down the hallway. The door to the motel room slammed open as a heaving Sam stomped in.

“You’re a frigging jerk!” Sam continued. His hands tugged awkwardly at his jeans. Dean snickered, just tucking himself against my shoulder. “You did this!” Sam’s eyes landed on me. I must have looked guilty because his nostrils flared. “You knew about this.”

Yeah. I pointed to the empty bottle of coke on the nightstand.

“For a bottle of coke!” He hissed and trudged into the bathroom.

Yes indeed. For a bottle of coke.

“Oh that was hilarious.” Dean drawled.

I patted his shoulder. “I suggest you watch yourself.” I pointed to the bathroom door where Sam was mumbling incoherently. “Cause that sounds like disaster.”

Dean scoffed. “Like he could ever trick me.”

Sam dragged his feet out of the bathroom, still looking furious. “Please tell me you guys have done something productive. Unlike banging like rabbits.” Dean wheezed. “And putting weird stuff in my pants.” Dean wheezed harder. “Shut up, Dean.”

“The two—” ‘ghostfacers’ remained stuck in my damn throat. We’re the ghostfacers that important? Sam and Dean waited patiently, “The two guys.” I said slowly. Ok that seemed to work. “Running the hellhounds website. Those guys uploaded that video from last night.” I showed them the video playing. Terrible camera work, terrible quality footage along with terrible commentary. Yet somehow it drew you in. “Their website views have gone up by like four times since the video was posted.” I showed them the time stamp. “And it’s been a couple of hours since they did.”

“So if it is a Tulpa then these guys are helping it.” Sam noted.

I hummed in agreement. “Unwittingly.”

“Sharon. Go get changed.” Dean sat up straight. “I say we pay a visit to these guys.”

 

Dean and Sam stood at either side as I hacked into the cameras. I squinted at the screen. My brain still wasn’t used to 240 pixel cameras after growing up with 4k as the standard.

Sam’s finger shot out on a certain block. “That’s them.”

“They’re going to the trailer park.” Dean grabbed his keys. “But there’s another place I wanna hit before we go get them.”

 

“What would Buffy do?” one of the men said from inside the trailer.

Dean banged on the trailer door that no doubt belonged to the two Ghostfacers.

“Who is it?!” Harry yelled.

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there.” Dean called.

“It’s them!” Ed poked his head out the trailer window.

The door was soon opened.

“Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging, what a shock.” Dean mocked as we all spotted the collection of action figures in the trailer. I slammed my boot into his shin again. He winced but remained silent.

Sam took over. “Guys, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We're, uhh, a little bit busy right now.” Ed’s eyes kept flickering to me. Oh this poor boy.

“Ok, uh, I’ll be quite frank. Um,” Sam looked for the right words. “We need you guys to shut down your website.”

Ed blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. “Well these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell…”

“I had to pee in that cell urinal.” Harry shuddered. “In front of people.” His eyes got a haunted look. Poor thing got PTSD from spending a night in jail. “And I get stage fright.” Damn.

“Why should we trust you guys?” Ed demanded. He winked when he met my eyes. “No offense.”

Dean bristled next to me. Oh yeah this was fun.

Sam ignored everything. “Look guys. We all know what we saw last night, what's in that house. But now thanks to your website there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai.”

“That's right.” Dean stood taller, fixing both the men with a glare. “Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt.” Sam and I nodded along.

“Yeah yeah…” Ed rolled his eyes.

“Ed,” Well Harry seemed to have a brain. “Maybe he's got a point, maybe…”

“Nope.” Ed stood his ground.

“No.” Harry copied.

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth.” Ed was clearly preparing to launch into a monologue. “We–”

“Well I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now.” Dean started marching up the trailer steps. Just as planned.

I held him back. “Come on Dean, calm down.”.

“Hey, just forget it, all right? These guys… probably bitch slap them both.” Sam just shook his head with a scoff. “I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai… But they still won't help us.” I tugged on the younger Winchester’s shoulder as well. 

“Come on guys.” I pulled them away from the trailer. “Let’s just go. It’s clear they don’t wanna help.” I gave Ed and Harry my best disappointed look.

Dean, Sam, and I continued walking away, hoping our play would work. The crunch of leaves and grass behind us confirmed that our plan was working.

“What did you say about…?” “Hang on a second there.” “Wait… wait.” “What thing about Mordechai, you guys?”

I could see Sam trying to hold back a smirk as the Ghostfacers continued.

“Don’t tell ‘em, Sam.” Dean too was enjoying this, based on the spring in his step.

Sam pretended to be pliant. “But if they agree to shut the website down, Dean.”

“Will they though?” I sighed dramatically.

“No wait. Wait.” Ed sped up. “Don't listen to him ok? We'll do it. We'll do it.”

“It’s a secret.” Dean shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

Sam shook his head. “Look, it is a really big deal alright. And it wasn't easy to dig up. So only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down.”

“Totally.” Ed said earnestly.

“Alright.” Sam nodded at Dean who pulled out some paperwork. “It's a death certificate. From the '30s. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That's right he didn't hang or cut himself.” Dean emphasised.

“He shot himself?” Ed’s eyes went wide.

“Yep. With a .45 pistol.” Sam confirmed.

“I heard that Mordechai is still terrified of them.” I sprinkled in. “Cause you know the iron bullets would kill him all over again. And he’ll be gone forever if he does get shot.”

The Ghostfacers better get this on their website. And based on the speed and the sniggers they gave while running back to their trailer, I was pretty sure they would.

Except they couldn’t. Because the website went down.

 

I logged onto the laptop in the motel room again. I pushed my AirPods into my ears and activated the noise cancellation. The brothers were bickering again and I did not have enough strength or energy to deal with that. Twice blared into my ears and I felt at home, typing up the iron bullet stuff on the Hellhounds website with the overexaggerated exclamation marks and the Caps Lock letters. I had to wait a grand total of thirty seconds before the laptop actually caught up with my typing speed and I hit enter. Now to wait. Hopefully the website went down later. But I didn’t have to wait for too long. Almost immediately, I had fifty likes on my comment under the video from that night, and even a couple of comments despite the lack of an official update from the Ghostfacers themselves. They were probably too busy still editing their messages for their blog. I smirked. I was good at this.

Sam’s laugh was loud enough to get past the noise cancelling. I looked up to see an aghast Dean holding onto his bottle of beer. Sam showed off a tube that read ‘super glue’.

“You did not.” Dean groaned beside me.

Well shoot. Dean stared at his hand. “How am I gonna get this off?”

“Soap and water?” I offered.

Dean trudged to the bathroom and jabbed an accusing finger at Sam. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Sam tapped my boot with his once Dean was in the bathroom trying to get the bottle off his hands. I hummed in question. “You should get that bandage changed.” Sam nodded to below the table.

I looked down at the loosened bandage around my knee. “You’re right.”

“I’ll grab you one.” Sam said and started rummaging in his bag.

I peeled the bandage off my knee. It was healing up nicely. But maybe I should stop tripping randomly and be a little less clumsy. I balled up the antiseptic soaked rag and aimed for the trash can in the corner of the room. I pressed my lips together when I missed. Of course I missed. I had no throwing power.

Sam threw me a bandage. “There.”

I blinked at the bandage he gave me. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“This thing says ‘Safety Hazard’.” I lifted up the offending orange fabric. “In glitter pink . Which would have been fine. But on orange ?” He’d clearly written it in with a glitter pink pen.

“Yeah.” Sam drank from his beer bottle. “Suits you.”

I fixed him with a blank stare as I tied the thing to my knee. “Joke’s on you. I’m into this.”

He spat out his drink and doubled over with a choke.

“You can’t pull a prank like this on someone who has no shame.” I shrugged.

He grumbled under his breath. “I’ll get you one day.”

“Sure kid.”

 

“I barely have any skin left on my palm.”

“At least I’m looking fabulous with pink on orange.”

“Maybe next time you two won’t put itching powder in my underwear.”

“Oh yeah? Only if you stop–”

“Uh, boys. We got company.” I tugged on the brothers’ sleeves.

They whipped around with their guns in the air to see Ed and Harry standing with a camera on their shoulder again. They groaned, but lowered their guns so they weren’t aiming directly at the Ghostfacers.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” Sam sighed.

Ed raised his hands in defense. “We're just trying to get a book and movie deal ok?”

From the basement came the sound of knives being sharpened. How did I know that that was the sound of a knife being sharpened? Cause I’d sharpened way too many machetes than normal. Did normal people even sharpen machetes? What do normal people even do?

“Oh crap.” Ed whispered. He and Harry crowded behind me, Dean, and Sam with their camera. “Uh, guys, you wanna… you wanna open that door for us?”

“Why don’t you?” Dean scoffed, but his gun was raised.

Mordechai burst through the door, swinging down his axe like a madman.

Oh flip. I took aim with my gun and shot. Mordechai screamed, but managed to dodge the bullet.

“The power of Christ compels you, the power of Christ compels you. THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!” Ed cried from a corner.

Sam fired next. This one barely grazed Mordechai’s arm. But Mordechai bled. Good. The new lore must have stuck thanks to my quick uploading skills. Hurray for 2020s addiction to social media. I cocked my gun one more time and shot at Mordechai’s knees. He went stumbling to the floor, crying in agony and looking absolutely terrified of the guns in our hands.

“I got him. I got him!” Harry said excitedly. “I got him on camera!”

Dean fired one final shot to Mordechai’s chest, and Mordechai stilled.

With bated breath, the five of us watched the man on the floor. No movement. And Mordechai’s eyes were wide open as they stared into the ceiling. And slowly, but surely, his body started disintegrating.

“Is it dead?” Dean asked. He looked at me in question.

“I don’t know.” I was pretty sure it was dead. “Do you guys have any idea how many likes that comment got? The one about Mordechai and iron bullets.”

“That was you?” Ed’s mouth opened in surprise. “You read our blog?”

I shrugged. “Just answer the question.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. it got almost as many likes as the video we posted.”

“You’re like internet famous.” Ed babbled. “You also upload that thing on fanfiction.net, right?”

Oh holy hell. “No.”

“But it’s the same user name. Qiu-Aki, or whatever.”

Ah hell no.

“You have a blog?” Sam asked.

“Well it’s not a blog. But it kind of is.” My cheeks were bright red by now I was sure of it. Dean raised an eyebrow. Ugh.

“It’s amazing.” Ed gasped. “I love your stories.”

Right. Right. I did not expect to meet a fan here. I didn’t even think people read that stupid thing.

“Those books are what got us into ghosts in the first place.” Harry squealed. If men even squealed. But that was definitely a squeal.

Oh flippity flipping flip. “Yeah, well it’s not me.” I straightened up and headed for the door. “I’m leaving. Bye.”

 

“Fanfiction?” Sam asked me once we got into the motel again. “Of what?”

“Can’t say.” I brushed him off.

“Something raunchy, sweetheart?” Dean smirked. “We could act it out, surely.”

I slapped his shoulder. “Never.” I pulled the covers over my head, taking in the scent of cheap motel sheets I’d downed with lavender and chamomile scented perfume before bed. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m looking this up.” I heard Sam mutter. “But how do you spell it? Choo-a-key?”

Dean joined in the thinking. “Like chew a key? What kind of username is that?”

I curled deeper into the pillow I’d wrapped myself around. Thank God for the brothers and their lack of Asian knowledge.

 

“Hey.” Dean called as we walked up to the overloaded minivan parked right by the trailer park.

“Oh, hello.” Ed grinned.

“Should we tell them?” Ed asked.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they're going to read about it in the trades.” Ed’s eyes landed on me again. I pushed my left hand into my pockets.

Harry cleared his throat. “So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer.”

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean challenged.

“No, smartass.” Ed puffed out his chest. “He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights. Maybe even have us write it.”

“And create the RPG.” Harry added with an excited grin.

“The what?” Dean frowned in confusion.

“Role Playing Game.” Ed offered.

“Right.” Dean just glanced at me. Yes, I played role playing games. So what?

“Well congratulations guys. That sounds really great.” Sam offered a smile.

“Yeah. That's awesome, best of luck to you.” Dean drawled.

“Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it.” Ed said with a flourish. “It's about talent. Sheer unabashed talent.”

“I’m sure it is.” I smiled.

The five of us stared at each other awkwardly before we all gave each other a curt nod.

“Later.” Ed stepped up as if to grab my hand.

Dean instantly wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to lean against his shoulder. Sam was ducking his face into his own shoulder to keep from giggling. And I had to use every ounce of will I had to keep myself from bursting out into laughter as well.

Dean in the meantime stared down Ed and nodded. “Bye.”

He spun me around, away from the minivan and Sam jogged to catch up.

“Bye guys!” Sam waved.

“See ya around!” Harry yelled back.

Once we were out of earshot Sam placed his hands on mine and Dean’s shoulder, poking his head in between us. “I have a confession to make.”

“My orange and pink bandage is awesome?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No.” Sam huffed. “I… uh… I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, well, I was the one who put the dead fish in their back seat.”

I stretched out my arms. “And I may or may not have hacked into their website and taken down every Mordechai video.”

The three of us burst into laughter.

“Truce?” Sam said through laughs.

“Truce.” Dean admitted.

“For the next 100 miles maybe.” I brushed past them to my bike.

Things were gonna be fine. They had to be.

Notes:

Lowkey forgot to include the resources at the bottom of the page. Who cares anyway.
Resources used: https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6577
So I'm never talking to an attractive guy again. Never. One of my patient's family members looked super young so I asked them if they were in school and they were like "I'm 26" so I went "oh so graduating college in 2026?" and he went "no i'm 26" and i went "so high school?" and i'm terrified atp cause he was making all the medical decisions for the patient. and he had to say again "i'm 26" and my brain finally registered he meant he was 26 years old. he was nice about it tho. laughed and said "it's the young face." and i'm like "yeah" and then he asked me if i was a medical resident and i'm like i do not look that old right T_T. i found him the basketball channel on the tv tho so yayyy.

Chapter 24: Something Wicked

Summary:

"So don't you dare give me that crap where you talk about how much more miserable your life was than mine. I kept my family together too. I had to take care of my brother too. We both have our own shit to deal with. So don’t make it seem like one of us had a worse life."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Suicide mentions
2. Basically me trauma dumping
have fun :)

I walked out of the nasty gas station bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. A group of creepy looking drug addicts sat at the foot of the gas station, making me run back to Dean and Sam as possible.

Sam was logging onto the terrible wifi and looking exasperatedly at his brother. “Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?”

“Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important Sammy.”

Sam gave out a frustrated groan. “Well I'm telling you I looked and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something I don't know what.”

“Well maybe he's going to meet us there.”

“Dean, that's what you said last time when John sent us coordinates.” I pointed out. “And Sam. This has to be a job.”

Sam scowled. “And I’m telling you two that there’s nothing suspicious out there. Are you sure you even read and gave Dean the right coordinates.”

“Don’t worry Sammy, I double checked.”

“Good to know that no one in this family trusts me.” I swung my leg over my bike and settled in. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Since when do you call the shots?” Sam scoffed.

“Ever since I’ve been the oldest.” I smirked.

“It’s just four months!” Dean threw his hands up in defeat. “You don’t call the shots in bed!” I reddened.

“Okay, okay. Can we not talk about this?” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go, alright? I call Uncle.”

 

I zoomed past the sign that read ‘Fitchburg, Population: 20,501’. Wow. This was one of the larger towns we ever stopped at. It felt weird. I’d grown up in a city with three high schools, and my high school alone had a graduating class of 2000 seniors. And to think that now 20,501 seemed like a lot.

We parked the car at a local playground where a lone child played on the swings. Glasgow’s Diner was right behind us, and Dean had offered to get us coffees and a pie for himself.

“Think he’s gotten the waitress’ number yet?” Sam asked, glancing at the cute waitress through the diner’s windows.

“He’s definitely getting a good beating.” I swung my legs on Baby’s hood. Her black paint was hot against my bare legs under the sun. “How's Jess?”

“She said work was going pretty good.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “There’s this girl in the cubicle next to her that she’s hanging out with soon.” His smile faltered. “She asked me if I was going back to her.”

“You could. You know.”

“Would Dean be okay with it?” His eyes remained on Dean. I followed his gaze to the man that was still leaning over the counter, chatting up a thin blonde with a cleavage that showed off just a little too much.

“Right.” Dean needed his family. It was all he knew. Sam was all he knew, all he had. Him and Baby. That was all Dean cared about. “He looks happy.” I turned to the younger man leaning on the Impala next to me. “But you also deserve to be happy.” I pressed my lips together as I remembered all the times the brothers sacrificed themselves for each other. Each episode, each death flashed through my mind and I had to blink back tears to keep myself in check. John Winchester. That was the first death I needed to prevent. To give the brothers the remotely happy life they deserved.

“I found a ring.” Sam whispered. “Kind of.” He scratched the back of his head. “I think I know what kind of ring Jess would like.” Oh. he was already thinking about marriage. “But I don’t know how to bring it up. I mean– I don’t exactly live with her.” He fumbled with his fingers. He looked so young. “I-I do want something with her– you know. I do love her.” He leaned back, tilting his head up to the sky. “But I don’t know if I can leave Dean alone.” He straightened up to look at me. “You’ll take care of him, right? If I do go to Jess? Once we find Dad I mean.”

I didn’t want to make an empty promise. How was I going to word this? I was saved by a proud laugh. Dean came back with two coffees stacked on top of each other. He passed them out and I opened the lid to make sure it was what I’d ordered.

“Did you get the sugar?” I said instead.

“O’course, sweetheart.” He squeezed between me and Sam, looking perfectly content with both of us on either side.

“Any of you got the time?” Sam asked suddenly.

I sipped my coffee. “For what?”

Dean chuckled and brushed his hand against mine. “He means ‘what time is it’.” Dean provided. “Ten after four.” Oh. I ducked my head behind my hair in embarrassment. Stupid English. “Why?” Dean’s hand squeezed mine gently before leaving it altogether, choosing to dig into the pie instead.

“What's wrong with this picture?” Sam motioned towards the empty park.

“School's out isn't it?” Dean said through a mouthful of food.

Sam ignored the munching noise. “Yeah. So where is everybody? This place should be crawling with kids right now.”

I spotted a woman reading a magazine on a bench. “Let’s find out.” I squared my shoulders and inhaled sharply, prepping myself for social interaction. “Hi.” I said with the sweetest smile I could muster.

“Hi.” she looked up with a questioning gaze.

“It’s kind of… quiet out here.” I motioned to the empty playground.

“Yeah, it’s a shame.” the woman’s gaze wandered to the one child playing on the swings.

“Is there a reason why there are no kids around? I mean, school is out, right?”

“Oh you know, what with the kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing.”

“Oh dear. How many?”

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching.”

“Yikes.” was all I could say.

 

Dean, Sam, and I walked into the hospital. We used the Emergency entrance, the one entrance from where anyone could walk in. I nodded confidently at the police officer as did Dean and Sam. the man nodded back. I glanced at the floor guide right by the elevator. I entered the elevator and sighed at the note taped next to the floor we were supposed to be on. ‘Access to hospital staff and guests only’. I hit the button and the elevator went up.

“We’re gonna have to show our badges.” I stared at the words on the bottom. ‘Investigating Stripper’ it says. “Really, Dean?”

He snickered. I smoothed out my hair and fixed my ponytail tighter. I had the whole suit thing going, full with my glasses and flat pumps clicking against the cool tile floor. Hospitals were seriously depressing. Once we got to the double doors, I pressed the buzzer right by the entrance. We waited for the voice on the other side to talk.

“Dude.” Sam hissed to his brother. “Dude, I am not using this ID.”

“Why not?” Dean grinned.

“Bi-” Sam stammered. “Bikini inspector?”

“Don't worry she won't look that close all right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence Sammy.”

I pushed the two bickering brothers back. “I’ll do it.” How I was feeling so bold today I had no idea. “Hello.” I said once the person on the other side asked “Hello”. “I’m here from the CDC. Dr. Jennie Lisa.”

“Can I see some ID?” The person spoke.

“Here.” I made sure to press my ID against the camera, showing off only the CDC sign instead of the ‘Investigating Stripper’. “I’ve got two other officers with me. May we be allowed in the pediatrics ward?”

“Mhm.” The person on the other side hummed.

The double doors opened and we walked into the pediatrics ward. Little giraffes and turtles and elephants and whatnot were painted in bright colours. Most of the nurses were female, petite little things with their hair tied back neatly and bright accessories lighting up their drab blue uniforms.

Dean whistled as his eyes trained on one specific well endowed nurse. “See. I told you it would work.” Dean leaned in next to my ear. “You should get one of those. Without the pants.”

I gave him a side eye and walked up to the tiny blonde nurse clicking away on the computer with her long nails. “Hello.” I greeted.

She looked up. “From the CDC?” Her voice was sweet, and her plump lips looked really good. Oh great, I was no better than a man. I forced myself to look at her big blue eyes instead.

“Yes ma’am.” Dean leaned on the counter, flashing her a winning smile. Oh the bastard. He wasn’t even trynna hide it. The nurse blushed at the attention.

Sam cut in. “We were wondering if we could talk to a doctor with any information on the sick children.”

The nurse nodded. “Sure. Wait right here, and I’ll call him.” She punched a few numbers on the telephone and put it up to her ear.

“This place is awesome.” mused Dean. “I’m telling you you need to get those nurse outfits.”

“They’re called scrubs.” Sam chimed. “And quit eye fucking everyone you see.”

Just then a baby waddled down the hallway with their dad and Dean snorted. “Well I’m not eye fucking every one.”

I jammed my pumps into the two men’s dress shoes. “Can we not have this conversation in the frigging pediatrics department.”

“Hello,” a voice called out. The three of us straightened up. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and fixed my glasses. Sam smoothed his suit over and Dean stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Heidecker.”

“Nice to meet you doctor.” Dean shook firmly. Sam and I followed suit.

“Well I'm glad you guys are here, I was just about to call CDC myself.” The doctor looked at us curiously. “How'd you find out anyways?”

“Oh some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and musta beat you to the punch.”

“So we heard you got six cases so far?” Sam tilted his head.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. And now…” the doctor shook his head.

“Now what?”

“Kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out.”

A nurse walked up to the man and passed him a few charts.

“You ever see anything like this before?”

He absentmindedly signed them with a slight frown. “Never this severe.”

The nurse from earlier continued. “And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.

“How come?” I asked.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after the other.”

“Huh. That’s interesting.” I looked at an unconscious little boy through the transparent windows. “Is it alright if we talked to some of the kids? See what’s going on?”

“They’re not conscious.” the nurse shuddered.

“None of them?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” Dean motioned to the mother and father duo huddled over the unconscious boy jumping every time the respirator keeping their son alive beeped.

“If you think it will help.” Dr. Heidecker answered.

“Yeah… who was your latest admission?”

 

In the waiting room was a man sitting with his head in his hands. “I should get back to my girls.” He pleaded.

I sat down next to the man. “We understand. But just a couple more questions sir. This could really help us determine what’s going on with your girls.”

That seemed to get the man going again and he nodded weakly.

Sam started questioning again. “You say Mary is the oldest?”

“Thirteen.”

“Ok. And she came down with it first right? And then…”

“Bethany, the next night.”

“Within 24 hours?”

“I guess. Look, I already went through all this with the Doctor.”

“Just a few more questions if you don't mind.” Dean’s voice left no room for argument. “How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?”

The man swallowed. “No. We think it was an open window.”

“Both times?”

“The first time I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed.”

“Is it possible that she opened it?”

“It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could have.”

I pressed my lips together. This case was shockingly similar to an episode from Supernatural.

 

Sam, Dean, and I walked down the hallway. “You know this might not be anything supernatural, it might just be pneumonia.”

“Maybe. Or maybe something opened that window.” Dean winked at a passing nurse. “I don't know man, Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we may be barking up the right tree.”

I did know this episode. It was the one where Sam and Dean took down the monster from their childhood. The one that had solidified Dean’s role as Sam’s primary caretaker. The one that had John yell and panic so much Dean was now too terrified to even leave Sam alone.

“Sharon.” I snapped my head up at Sam’s voice. “You comin’?” I hadn’t even realised that I’d slowed down.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

 

We snuck into the house of the man from earlier. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. The EMF meters in our hands barely buzzed even near the electrical lines. Nothing. This house was clean. I frowned. I didn’t even remember what kind of monster this was.

“You guys got anything over there?”

“No. Nothing.” Dean responded.

“Nothing here either.” I got up the last step of the stairs.

“Yeah, me neither.”

The three of us moved into another room, Bethany’s room, I realised. Sam opened up the window.

“Hey guys?”

Dean and I walked over to Sam. “What?”

“Dean was right. It’s not pneumonia.”

I followed Sam’s gaze to a handprint on the wooden window sill.

“It's rotted. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?”

“I know why Dad sent us here.” Dean’s face dawned with realisation. “He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job.”

 

“So what the hell is a…” Sam tested the word on his tongue. “Shtriga?” I remembered the word Shtriga, but nothing useful came to mind. If this was the case with the two little brothers and the young single mother then all I knew was that we could shoot the thing.

“Kinda like a witch I think. I don't know much about them.” Dean led us into the motel reception.

“Well I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal.”

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16-17 years ago. You were there, you don't remember?” Dean really remembered everything, didn’t he? My throat closed up at the thought. He was always thinking, always on guard.

“No.”

“Guess he caught wind the thing’s in Fitzburg now and kicked us the coordinates.”

“So wait, this…”

“Shtriga.” I provided.

“Right, you think it's the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah maybe.” Dean shifted uneasily.

“But if Dad went after it, how come it's still breathing air?”

“Cause it got away.”

“Got away?”

Dean was starting to get frustrated. “Yeah Sammy, it happens.”

“Not very often.” Sam pressed on.

“Well I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning.” Dean shoved his hands deeper into his flannel and refused to look Sam in the eye.

“What else do you remember?”

Dean got defensive and spat. “Nothing, I was a kid all right?”

Sam looked upset.

I decided to take over before it got worse. “Hey, Sam. It's alright. We’ll take care of it. I’m sure one of Bobby’s books has it.” Sam nodded. But he kept glancing at his brother. “Don’t worry.” I whispered to Sam. “I’ll take care of him.”

Dean rang the bell and a young boy, around ten or twelve came grinning to the counter. As the door shut behind him, I spotted a younger boy sprawled on the couch, watching TV. Dean stiffened up beside me. I should talk, right?

“Hey.” I smiled at the kid.

“Two kings? Or separate rooms?” The boy said. He sounded insanely professional.

I glanced at the brothers. “Two kings.” I passed him my card.

The kid smirked. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

I didn’t wanna know what the kid was thinking. But I was petty. “I know right. Two handsome men.” I smirked.

The kid’s grin faltered and he took the card I’d slid onto the counter.

“Hi!” a woman suddenly came rushing out of the door. “Checking in?” she glanced at her son holding my card.

“Yeah.” I responded. “Good kid.”

“Oh.” the woman blushed. She nudged the boy. “Go get your brother dinner.”

“But mom–”

“Go.” she pointed at the door and the kid disappeared with a groan. “Sorry about that.” She smiled at me. She looked exhausted.

“No problem.” I glanced at Dean who stared after the kid that was now pouring his brother a glass of milk. “We’ll pay per night.”

“Sure.” she passed me back the card. “Have a good stay.”

 

“Well you were right. It wasn't very easy to find but you were right. Shtriga is a kind of witch.” Sam said, looking up from my iPad. “They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to ancient rome. They feed off spiritus vitae.”

I finished sharpening the machete that had started losing its edge.

Dean continued poring over the map he’d spread over the bed. “Spiri-what?” Dean asked.

“Vitae. It's Latin, translates to 'breath of life'.” Sam scrolled through the document he was on. “Kinda like your life force or essence.”

“Didn't the Doctor say the kids' bodies were wearing out?”

“It's a thought. You know she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold.” Sam wondered aloud. “Anyway, Shtrigas can feed off anyone but they prefer…”

“Children.” Dean finished the thought.

“Yeah, probably because they have stronger life force.” Sam didn’t seem to notice. “And get this. Shtrigas are ‘…invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man.’”

“No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds.”

“What?”

“If you catch her when she's eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Uhh… buckshots or rounds I think.”

Sam opened his mouth to question Dean’s knowledge but I shot him a look. He wisely closed his mouth. I leaned against Dean’s arm in a silent gesture of comfort. He didn’t move but I could feel the muscles in his shoulders grow a little less tense.

“What else did you find out?” I prompted Sam.

“Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats we gotta find the thing first. It ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting.”

“What kinda human disguise?” Dean asked.

“Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started.”

Dean frowned. “Hang on.” I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at the map he’d finished marking. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead centre?” He twirled the pen on one particular spot of the map. I had no idea what it was. But I would guess the hospital.

“The hospital.” Sam answered. Of course it was the hospital. How did he tell just by looking at the stupid map?

“Sharon. It’s a map. You gotta read the thing. It’s not gonna talk to you.” Dean teased. “Now when I was there I saw a patient, an old woman.”

“An old person huh?” Sam shook his head. “In a hospital? Phew.” He pretended to panic. The little brat. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Better call the coastguard.”

Dean exhaled sharply. “Well listen smartass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.” I remembered the scene. It wasn’t the old lady. It was someone else. Who it was, I forgot. But it wasn’t the poor old lady.

Sam’s smile fell. Yeah, this was getting serious.

 

One of the brothers got attacked by the Shtriga. I knew that. I was pretty sure it was the younger brother. I decided to stay back in the motel, keeping an eye out for the ugly Shtriga.

It’s like you’re never alone these days.

My heart rate spiked at the intrusion in my thoughts. Seriously, Mx. Angel?

You’re still thinking about it.

Yeah. Damn right I was still thinking about it. Since no one would tell me why I was here, I might as well create my own purpose. And right now, my purpose was to keep everyone alive and happy.

Alive doesn’t mean happy .

Why was the Angel even worried about me being alive?

I haven’t found a vessel yet .

Of course. Maybe they should find some dead person and just possess them.

I need their permission .

Some naive Christian was sure to give them permission right? I scoffed. This conversation was stupid. The Angel could just go back to Heaven. Why were they even still in my head when they knew everything?

You really don’t understand. Do you even value your life?

What life? I laughed to myself. I had no life. I had no real friends. I had no real family. Everyone I ever loved was in some other world. Dean said he loved me. But he could surely find someone else. After all one of those nurses from the hospital was sure to hop onto him the second they saw that ring off his finger.

I should be concerned, right?

Maybe? I had no idea. It wasn’t like I was actively trying to kill myself. Anyways, I had a job to do. Mx. Angel could go chill or something. Whatever it was they did when they weren’t talking to me in my head.

I am weak. I can’t stay conscious for too long. That’s why I haven’t taken over your body completely.

Well, awesome. And?

Just stay alive until I have enough strength to possess someone else. Yeah?

Yeah. Sure. Like how long?

I don’t know.

And the Angel was gone again.

 

I wrapped myself in Dean’s leather jacket as I poked my head out of our hotel room. I was ninety percent sure the kids were asleep, as their laughter had died down a while ago. Hopefully, the Shtriga hadn’t managed to hurt the kids yet. I kept the gun tight in my hands and crept closer to the door through which I’d seen the boys. I would have gotten in by picking the lock if the mom weren’t keeping watch though. Flip. I wasn’t making it inside.

“Can I help you with something?” the mom asked.

I tucked the gun in one of the jacket’s inside pockets. “No ma’am. Just couldn’t sleep. Thought I would take a walk.” She scanned me up and down. I looked down at my bare feet on the floor and the nightgown that reached just past my knees. I hadn’t even bothered combing my hair. It wasn’t like I needed to dress up to kill a monster, but now I was questioning my dressing habits. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. I was too lazy to actually put on clothes.” I put on a smile. Hopefully she dropped it.

“Yeah. Yeah.” she hummed. “That’s- that’s fine. Um.” She looked warily outside. “Just be careful. Are any of the guys you came with with you?”

“No, I think they went outside to get drinks.”

“Well I wouldn’t recommend a young woman to walk outside alone at night.”

That’s why I’d grabbed Dean’s jacket. To shake off the creeps. My glare and the gun in my hands could do the rest. Besides, I was here to kill a Shtriga. But I very well couldn’t tell that to the lady. “You might be right.” Well, I knew the kids lived. “I’ll wait until they’re back.”

The lady nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m gonna go check up on the boys.” She gave me a small smile. “Have a good night.”

I forced my lips into a smile. “Yeah. You too.” She opened the door to head inside with her boys. “Don’t forget about the windows.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Michael’s got it. He promised me.”

Day one million of parents pushing too much responsibility onto their oldest kid.

I ended back up in the motel room, updating my ‘blog’ instead. Good thing the boys would never find it. They knew the website name, but like hell were they actually gonna end up on the right fandom with the right username. Not to mention, I needed to talk to Dean. He’d been looking off the whole case if we left him alone for too long.

I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. But for goodness’ sake, sleep never came. So I fixed the beds, folded the laundry we’d just thrown into the clean clothes bag, put away a random crocheting project – why was I even making a pink giraffe – and reloaded all the guns with bullets. I cleared out the table, plugged in my devices for once, and tossed all the takeout bags collecting in a corner of the room in an actual trash can. I wanted to cook. I wanted to bake a cake. I groaned. My 2:00 AM productivity really went haywire.

 

I must have dozed off at some point because when I finally registered what was going on, I had a gun in my hands aimed at the door.

“Just me, sweetheart.” Dean said with his hands raised.

“Oh, sorry.” I held back a yawn and dug at my eyes.

“Sam’s taking the owner of the motel to the hospital. The younger kid, Asher, right? Yeah him, he got sick. His brother’s gonna be with us for a while. Just until his mom gets back.”

As my vision cleared, I finally noticed the young boy tucked behind Dean. “Oh shoot, did I scare him?”

“You’ll traumatise him if you don’t close your legs.” Dean smirked.

Oh. Oh shoot . I snapped my knees together and covered them up with the fabric of my nightgown. “Are you okay?” I asked the young boy.

He nodded. But his eyes were distant. “I should have checked the latch.”

Dean’s hand rubbed the kid’s shoulder. “Wasn’t your fault buddy.”

“Asher was my responsibility.”

“Hey.” I beckoned the kid closer. He hesitantly stepped forward. “You gotta believe in your brother.” I pulled him into a hug. It was the only way I could comfort him.

Dean sat next to us, the bed dipping low from his weight. The kid, Michael I believed, buried his face in my shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

“He’s- he’s- he’s my brother–”

“And he’s not your entire responsibility.” I looked Dean dead in the eye. “You did your best. That’s what matters.” Dean’s breath hitched.

Michael nodded his little head against my shoulder. “So you’re gonna be strong for him too, alright?” Dean walked over to the mini fridge in the motel room and pulled out a beer for himself.

I didn’t say anything. He probably couldn’t do this feelings thing sober anyway. The kid was heavy. But he was still young. I rocked him slowly, until his breathing calmed down. By the time he had calmed down and cried himself to sleep, my arms were heavier than lead and I doubted I had enough strength to move the kid to lie down in one of the beds.

“I got him.” Dean whispered and he picked up the boy from my arms and carefully placed him on our bed.

He would make a great dad.

“And how are you doing?” I asked when he sat down next to me, still nursing his beer.

He scoffed. “We’re gonna get all sappy?”

“The Shtriga. Attacked Sammy several years ago.”

Dean snapped to look in my direction. “You know this too?”

“I know about your childhood.” I placed my hand on his.

He clenched the beer harder. “Then why do we have to talk about it.”

“Because I need you to understand that your life isn’t all about Sam.”

He grit his teeth. His green eyes looked angry. But I wasn’t backing down. Not from this. Not until he understood that he needed to live for himself, not just others. “You don’t understand. It’s my responsibility. As his brother. I’m the older one. I'm supposed to keep him safe.” He nodded towards the boy sleeping soundly in our bed. “He feels the same.”

“I know.” It was hard to find the right words. “I’m an older sister too.” How was I going to get this across to him? It had sounded a lot better and easier in my head. “Listen. I would fight a wendigo bare handed and get eaten by that thing before I let anything happen to my brother.”

Dean looked away. “Then you get it.”

“I do. But I also have a life of my own.”

“Your brother’s gone.” He didn’t mean it. The words stung. But I knew he didn’t mean it.

“He is.” Tears stung my eyes. “But when I was still with him. I had a life of my own.”

Dean looked away. His hands were shaking. “Your mom didn’t die in a fire. She wasn’t killed by a demon. You didn’t have to carry your baby brother out of a burning house. Your dad didn’t leave you alone for weeks on end, telling you to shoot first and ask questions later. We had codes to even pick up the phone.” His chest heaved.

“You’re right.” I squeezed his hand. “But I have my own baggage.”

“What?” he scoffed. “Like spending every night drawing salt lines and holding onto a gun in case the monsters of the night came creeping in? You didn’t live my life.”

“My mom tried to kill herself.”

Dean’s eyes darted to my face. “What?”

“She banged her head on the wall in the hallway until it bled. I was in the living room with my cousin sister, and my brother. I was maybe seven years old max. My brother was four, my cousin sister was two .”

“Shit.”

“I had to turn up the TV volume and bring her back down from whatever it was that spooked her. So yeah, I didn’t have to deal with a house fire or demons. But my life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. As for my dad… he didn’t live with us until I was eleven. For eight whole years, for my whole childhood I learned about him through rare phone calls on my birthdays and the screaming my mom did at him at midnight. I put my brother to sleep because my mom was too busy being miserable. I stayed awake all night when my mom went out to get groceries and handle our finances cause she didn’t want to leave us alone during the day. I kept my brother with me, pretending like life was fine when my mom and dad threw pots and pans at each other in the kitchen and my dad scratched himself till he bled. When my brother was bullied, it was me who fought off the bullies. I ditched my own friends because they were mean to him. I rebooked missed flight tickets when we came to America cause my mom wasn’t fluent in English. I was eleven, Dean, replanning a trans continental trip cause my parents were too busy fighting to decide on a plausible flight schedule. So don't you dare give me that crap where you talk about how much more miserable your life was than mine. I kept my family together too. I had to take care of my brother too. We both have our own shit to deal with. So don’t make it seem like one of us had a worse life.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” I cupped his cheeks in my hands. “I just want you to understand. Sam’s life isn’t everything. Yes, you should love him. Yes, you should look out for him. But don’t let it be everything. Have your own hobbies. Hell you can make hating on my yarn getting stuck in your socks a hobby. I’ll take it. I’m fine with you jerking off to my underwear if it means you’ll stop obsessing over Sam.”

“Is that an offer?” he cracked a smile.

I shoved his shoulder with a smile of my own. “Shut up.” I shook my head. “But you get the idea. Right?”

“Right.” He looked down.

“If you didn’t have this as a job, then what would you do?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Mechanic.”

“You say that cause John was a mechanic. What would you actually want to do? Think.”

“Don’t wanna.” He forced his head away even in my grip. “Not when there’s monsters out in the world.”

I forced his face back to look at me. “Let’s say there are no monsters. We killed them all. By some miracle, we killed everything evil in this world. What would you do?”

He opened his mouth. “Fight other evils.”

“Like?”

“Disasters.”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“Fires.” He brought his forehead down to mine. “Firefighter.” His left cheek crinkled into a lopsided smile again. “I would have said lifeguard for the women in bikinis, but… Lifeguards wear shorts, I don’t wanna wear shorts.”

I tilted my head so our lips met. “Sounds just like you.”

 

I looked up from the laptop as Dean’s phone rang. “Hey, how’s the kid?” he whispered, doing his best to not wake up the sleeping kid in our room. “Yeah, we’re still at the motel… Sharon’s doing some research on the Shtriga.”

Dean passed me the phone from across the table.

I tucked it between my shoulder and ear. “Yeah, Sammy. Uh, here’s what I found. Started with Fort Douglas cause that’s the last location we knew. I traced back the weird illnesses, and it hit Ogdenville, then North Haverbrook and Brockway. Do not ask me where they are. I got no clue.” Dean muttered something about immigrants and American geography. I kicked his foot under the table in retaliation. “Every ten to fifteen years, it hits some place. And wherever it goes, dozens of kids get pneumonia-like symptoms, slip into a coma, and… yeah.” I could see Dean’s expression go unreadable. One of those kids could have been Sammy. And no doubt Dean felt guilty.

“How far back does this thing actually go?” He asked instead. His voice was deadly steady.

“Earliest mentions was in the 1890s… Black River Falls.” I turned the laptop so Dean could read the article. “Honestly I don’t–”

“One of the doctors is Heidecker.” Dean said, his eyes still trained on the screen. “The picture is from 1893.” His green eyes met mine. It had been the doctor all along. He held out his hand for the phone. “Come back Sammy.”

 

The staff the owner had called was finally here, and she took Michael back into his room. Sam had arrived a minute later, going off into a rant.

“We should have thought of this before. A Doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing.” Sam ranted.

“That son of a bitch.” Dean clenched his fist. “I should have killed that thing.” He was referring to when he and Sam were kids.

“And draw on him in a hospital?”

“Yeah well, first of all, I wouldn’t have opened fire in a pediatrics ward.”

“Good call.” Sam said dryly.

“Second, it wouldn't have done any good. The bastard’s bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't even there, which is probably a good thing cause I probably would have burned a clip in him on principle alone.”

“You're getting wise in your old age Dean.”

“If he’s old then I’m a fossil.” I chimed.

“A cute fossil.” Dean brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “But now I know how we're going to get it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Shtriga, works through siblings right?”

“Right.”

“Well last night…”

“It went after Asher.”

“So I'm thinking tonight it's probably gonna come after Michael.” Dean said slowly.

“We use the kid as bait.” I reiterated. “It’s the best shot we have.”

Sam looked at me with wide eyes. “Are you nuts?” He looked back at his brother. “No! Forget it. That's out of the question.”

“It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance.”

“Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook.”

“Dad did not send me here to walk away.”

It hit me then. Dean was seeing this as a punishment for something that happened years ago. And I wondered if that was what John really meant. Maybe John trusted Dean and Sam enough to take down this thing themselves before it could rip apart more families. John wasn’t the kind of person to just punish his kid for some mistake that happened so many years ago.

“Send you here? He didn't send you here, he sent us.”

“This isn't about you Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me.”

“What are you saying Dean, how is it your fault?”

“Cause it’s not.” I stepped in between the two brothers. “It’s not your fault, Dean.”

“You don’t know that.” Dean sat down on the bed. His hands were shaking.

Sam and I glanced at each other worriedly. How were we supposed to tell him? I tapped Sam on the shoulder and pushed him closer to Dean. I was going to send John a text. He needed to talk this out with Dean. he needed to know that he wasn’t just a soldier. Not some tool in his Dad’s great revenge plan.

“Dean. You've been hiding something from the get go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me man. Tell me what's going on.”

As Dean told his brother the story from several years ago, I let my fingers fly across the keyboard. The stupid thing was slow, it took too long to type. I wanted modern technology back. No wonder old people called each other, the text took too long. But John was never going to pick up the phone. Maybe he would read the text, send back an answer. Even if it was a simple ‘it wasn’t your fault, Dean’, I would take it. I hit send and sat down on the moldy floor. Sam had sat down next to his brother and was bringing him back down from whatever panic he had gone into. I leaned my head back against the worn out wallpaper. I needed to fix this. This stupid broken family of theirs. It was the least I could do.

 

“You're crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops.” Michael shrieked from behind the desk.

Well, the plan wasn’t exactly going according to plan. But the kid was good. He had guts. He had a brain. Dean flailed as he tried to pry the phone away from the kid’s hand.“Hang on a second. Just listen to me. You have to believe me ok? This thing came through the window and it attacked your brother. I've seen it. I know what it looks like. Cause it attacked my brother once too.”

Michael slowly put the phone back down. “This thing… is it… like… it has this long… black robe?”

“You saw it last night didn't you?”

“I thought I was having a nightmare.”

“I'd give anything not to tell you this but sometimes nightmares are real.”

“So why are you telling me?” Michael glanced at the three of us warily.

“Because we need your help.”

“My help?” Michael’s eyes grew wide.

“We can kill it. But we need your help.” I stepped in. maybe a smaller weaker looking woman would freak out the kid a little less. “That thing hurt Asher. And it’s coming after you next. You know how it goes. One sibling gets sick, then so does the other sibling. If you help us, we can kill it. And the thing will never hurt anyone again. And Asher will get better.”

Michael fearfully swallowed. His small head gave a weak nod. That was all we needed.

 

“The Shtriga clearly doesn’t care if someone else is in the room. It went after Asher even though Michael was right next to him.” I told the men. “I should stay with him.”

“What if it comes after you?” Dean looked me up and down. “You’re well endowed, but you do look young.”

“Well then awesome, it’ll feed on me and not the kid, right?” I sighed. “I can shoot the thing. You guys can keep watch. Come in guns blazing if anything goes wrong.”

“This is a better idea than leaving Michael alone in the room.” Sam agreed with me.

“I’m not risking two people.” Dean retorted.

“You would rather leave a poor kid alone?” I nodded towards Asher who looked absolutely terrified in his pajamas. “Just leave me here. I’ll be fine.”

“But–”

“Dean.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

Dean ran a hand down his face before finally giving up. “Fine.”

“I’ll go make sure the camera is working.” Sam says, and he left me, Dean, and Michael in the room.

Dean fiddled around with the camera while I tried to comfort a shaken Michael. “Let’s walk through the plan one more time. You wanna tell me what’s gonna happen?”

Michael nodded. “The monster comes in through the window. I just stay under the covers. And you’ll shoot it.”

“Yep.”

“What if you shoot me?”

“Not gonna happen. I’m the best shot amongst us. And let me tell you, Sam and Dean can shoot flying targets.”

“And you’re better than them?” Michael sounded skeptical.

“Oh yeah.” Dean chimed. “She’s a damn good shot.”

“I won’t even fire in your direction, alright? I’ll probably hug you to make sure you don’t get hit by a bullet. That fine?”

Michael nodded.

“Good.” Dean stopped fiddling with the camera and knelt down in front of me and Michael. “Have you ever heard a gunshot before?”

“Like in the movies?”

“It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies.” Dean’s hand squeezed Michael’s knee. “So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, do not come out until we say so. Understand?”

Michael looked down at his feet for a long moment.

“Michael, you sure you wanna do this?” I asked the kid.

“You don't have to, it's ok, I won't be mad.” Dean said gently.

“No, I'm ok. Just don't shoot me.” He clambered onto the bed and pulled the covers over his eyes.

I looked back at Dean who couldn’t take his eyes off of Michael. He would make a damn good dad. This scene felt domestic. Dean comforting our kid after a nightmare, and me getting into bed with a scared kid. It was all a dream, a naive longing because this could never happen. It never would. But God, if I didn’t want it.

“You got this?” Dean’s voice brought me back.

“Yeah.” I brushed my hand over the gun strapped to my thigh under my gown. “I got this.”

 

I could hear the window creaking open. Michael was just an inch away from me, his hand gripping mine tightly. My heart rate increased, and sweat began to coat my skin. I could feel the creature loom over Michael. But not yet. It hadn’t started feeding yet. I cracked an eye open ever so slightly, and the Shtriga opened its mouth. Now.

I dove over Michael and shot at the creature. It howled and stumbled back. Michael was too stunned to even cry out. Dean and Sam came rushing in, guns tight in their hands. They too unloaded a shot each into the creature.

I pushed the kid behind the bed, away from the Shtriga, that lay limp on the ground now.

“Did we get it?” Sam asked. He sounded breathless. I held the kid tighter.

Dean walked over to check. “I think so.” Just then, the Shtriga clenched Dean’s throat and threw him against a wall.

“No!” I raised my gun again. But I didn’t have a clear line.

“Dean!” Sam cried. He shot at the thing. Michael let out a wail of fear and ducked tighter against my chest. The Shtriga snarled and pushed Sam down. It opened its mouth and started sucking. I could see Sam getting paler and paler.

“No, Sammy!” Dean managed to shoot the Shtriga between the eyes. The second the Shtriga collapsed again, Dean was on his knees next to Sam. “Sam, Sam!”

“Michael, stay here.” I patted his shoulder. “Close your eyes, close your ears.” I climbed over the bed and took aim. Dean was still shaking Sam, repeating his name over and over again. I emptied a whole clip into the creature, making sure it was dead, dead. White wisps began to leave the Shtriga, and the mist dissipated into the air.

“Dean?” whispered a weak voice.

Sam. “Sam!” Dean gripped his brother tighter. “You okay little brother?”

Sam pushed himself up shakily. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

I crawled over the bed to get back to Michael and gently peeled his hands away from his ears. “Hey, we got it.” He looked up at me with teary eyes. “It’s dead. It can’t hurt anyone or anything anymore.”

“Asher…?”

“We’ll find out in the morning.” I pulled the kid against my shoulder. Hopefully my heart had calmed down enough that the kid wouldn’t realise. “You did good, Michael. You did amazing.”

 

Joanna came back in the morning, her hair all messed up and her face all puffy and red, but the corners of her lips were turned upwards. Asher must be doing fine.

“How’s Asher?” I asked. Michael had clung onto my jacket the second I’d left the motel entrance with my keys in my hands. But the second he spotted his mother, he left my side and ran up to her.

“Ash?” he asked immediately.

“Good news. He’s going to be fine.” Joanna pulled her son into a hug.

“Really?” Michael grinned.

“Yeah, really. No one can explain it, it's a miracle. They're going to keep him in overnight for observation and then he's coming home.”

“That’s great.” Dean smiled.

“How are all the other kids doing?” Sam asked.

“Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town.”

Sam decided to continue pressing. “Dr Travis? What about Dr Heidecker?”

“Oh he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something.”

“Yeah. Must have.” Dean grinned.

Heidecker was currently buried in the parking lot by the playground.

“So, did anything happen while I was gone?” Joanna asked Michael.

Michael shook his head. “Same old stuff.”

“Ok. You can go see Ash.”

Michael’s eyes lit up. “Now?”

“Only if you want to.” She didn’t have to tell him twice. He was already halfway to their car. “I'd better get going before he hot wires the car and drives himself.” She laughed. “Bye guys.”

The three of us watched the mother and son duo drive off. Right, I had something to show Dean. “Dean.” I passed him my phone. “Look.”

It was a text from John. The same number that had been sending us coordinates. Dean read the text. “Well shit.” He laughed. “I had it all wrong.”

“Had what wrong?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Dean looked up with a smile as he passed me the phone back. “Everything’s perfect.”

Sam looked curiously between me and Dean. “Did you show him your nudes?”

I snorted. “Like I’ll ever take any.”

Dean put on a serious face. “You should show me some.”

“I should show you what the back of my hand looks like. Now go and get Baby started.”

He grinned and walked off to the Impala.

“Seriously, what is it?” Sam asked me again.

I showed him the text from John. Sam looked back at his brother once he read it. “Well shit indeed. He could have said that years ago.”

“No wonder he’s happy.”

I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a quick picture of the text written in pure emotionally constipated John Winchester trying his best at communication based on a young 2020s girl’s text rants fashion.

That’s not why, Dean. I thought you might want revenge. Sorry ):

Notes:

Resources used:
https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6578
Ok, alright. So ik a lot of people hate John Winchester. But I genuinely feel for the man. If he'd ever had any real guidance in his life, I believe he would have been a phenomenal dad. I mean he even had college funds for both his sons until Azazel used the ceiling as the pan to cook Mary in. John tried his best based on the trashy cards the world dealt him. Not to mention he was traumatised by war, had difficulty getting a job, then his wife died, and he was left with two sons in an era where men weren't exactly expected to raise their kids and mental health wasn't even taken seriously. Poor guy had to be constantly on the run cause he knew that Azazel would come after Sam and unfortunately, it's a thing where parents always put too much pressure on their eldest kids cause compared to their youngest the oldest is worlds mature, and older siblings tend to think it genuinely is their duty to keep their younger sibling safe and take on too much responsibility just by themselves. I relate to Dean in so many ways, even though I can confidently say my mom and dad were never abusive towards us. If you ever ask my parents, then they'll go "I used to think my daughter was so grown up when she was 10, now I see my son as a 10 year old and I wonder how I expected her to be so responsible", a genuine quote from my mom. So like yeah, don't kill me pls. I genuinely believe John was a good guy, just needed some guidance in raising his kids which he never got.

Chapter 25: Provenance

Summary:

"James shakily nodded and positioned himself above Evelyn, getting blood on his expensive looking shirt. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.”
Dean raised an eyebrow.
“Come on guys, we gotta go.” Sam tugged me up from the floor.
“Stayin’– what?!” James looked up in shock. “You guys are leaving?”
“I’ll text you the address of where we’ll be. And we’ll explain everything. Just keep doing your little CPR.” I poked my head in when James started losing the tempo of his song. “Another one bites the dust works as well.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. N/A
Struggled quite a bit with this chapter. it's not smth i usually write. but its also setting up some important things thatmay or may not be useful later on. and ive been exhausted all week if its not obvious by the lack of grammar in this a/n. anyways have fun. im gonna go fail another o chem exam and cry over only getting 2 hours of sleep even during spring break T_T

I was gonna kill that man when I got my hands on him. I was gonna break those pretty fingers writing down that woman’s number and bite off those beautiful lips that smiled and laughed at that woman. And oh when I got his eyes, I was going to scoop them out and put them in a jar to admire and then bury his penis separately from his body. Oh, and I was going to rip out that eyelid if it winked at me one more time.

“Sharon!” The call of my name from the other bartenders broke me out of my jealousy. “We need beers here!”

“Coming!” I pointed to my eyes and then Dean’s. His smirk faltered.

“What’s wrong baby?” the woman purred.

“Nothin’.” Dean straightened up and grabbed the beers I slammed onto the counter in front of him. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”

“Nothing tonight?” That blonde bimbo’s hands clung to his arms.

“Oh well.” I could feel Dean’s green gaze on me as I busied about the bar. “There’s definitely somethin’ coming tonight.” Damn right there was.

 

I barely made it through the motel room door before Dean had me slammed up against a wall. “I’m gonna kill you.” I gripped his shoulder.

“Oh yeah?” He looked like he was enjoying this.

“That blonde tramp– Did you spend the night at her house?”

Dean hitched up my thigh with his large hands to grind his hips against mine. “What do you think?”

I groaned when I felt the bulge behind his zipper. “She clearly couldn’t handle you.”

“Yeah?” His mouth was hot on my neck. “Then why don’t you show me how she should have handled me?”

Oh he was playing a dangerous game here. I dropped my bag on the ground and sank my fingers into his hair. “Oh, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah?” He had the cheekiest smirk. “My lovely Sharon Winchester.”

I blushed at my full name. It wasn’t often I heard it. We didn’t even use our real names when we were in hospitals, let alone the full name. And the way he said it. God, I could come from that alone.

I bucked my hips against his. “That-that feels good.

“Oh I can make you feel better.” His other hand grabbed my other thigh and lifted me up easily.

“Sam?” I gasped when he somehow pinched the thick flesh on my thighs.

“Separate room.” Dean kissed my lips. “Jerking off to Jess on the phone.”

“And how do you know that?”

“He’s not exactly subtle.”

I yelped as he dropped me down on the bed. I hadn’t even noticed that Dean was now standing by the bed. His shirt flew off his head. And his belt was discarded deliciously. Oh hell. I could never get enough of that sight. But he wasn’t going to be in control tonight. I was still mad about that blonde from the bar.

I sat up straight and pulled him down by a loop in his jeans. “You’re in for a night, Winchester.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

 

Damn. I stared at the stained ceiling. That had been good. My thighs burned not just from the pleasure but from the strain of riding the man laying next to me. His chest had red angry marks all over from my nails and the ring digging into his skin. And a purple bruise bloomed right below his collar bone. No deep V necks for him any time soon.

“I should take the lead more often, huh?” I teased.

Dean scoffed. “We both know who was in control.” And he wasn’t wrong. His hands had been on my hips the whole time, the strength of which had acted as a constant reminder that he could take back control any time. But still, he’d let me lead. And I knew he liked it based on the way the moans left his pretty lips and the way his pretty green eyes rolled back. “But yeah, we should have angry sex more often.”

I laughed to myself. “Next time you get some chick’s number I might be riding a corpse.”

“Didn’t take you for the necrophilia type.” He pushed himself up. “Shower sex?”

I huffed. “Not enough strength. I’m gonna be sore next morning… or in four hours.”

Dean leaned down to kiss my lips. “I’ll get you some water. Painkillers?”

I lifted a thigh to gauge how bad it burned. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”

“Clearly we didn’t go hard enough.”

“You’re putting songs in my head.” I groaned.

“Which one?”

“Go Hard by Twice.”

“You and your kpop songs.” He grumbled playfully. He disappeared from my side, but came back soon with wet towels. My back protested as I sat up. “Need help?”

“I got this.” I wiped down the sweat and sticky mess. “Pass me my nightgown would you?”

“You love those things.” he tossed a clean one to me along with a fresh pair of underwear. “Oh right.”

“Hm?” I looked at Dean who was slipping into his boxers.

“Sammy thinks we have a case here.”

I paused with the water bottle halfway up to my lips. “And you’re telling me this now ?”

Dean grinned. “We were kind of busy.”

Busy doing useless things when we could have been helping Sam with whatever it was he was doing. “Sam better be sleeping right now.” It was then that I realised we were in a room with two kings. “Where is Sam?” I glared at my husband. “Seriously? You left him outside?”

“He’s just sweepin’ the Telesca’s place with EMF.”

“Telescas?”

“Yeah. While you were at the bar blushing at the college kids that walked in…” Oh shoot he’d noticed. “Sammy told me about a series of strange deaths. No prints, no murder weapons, and everything locked from the inside. Dad has at least three similar separate murders noted in the same upscale area of New York.”

“And now we have another one?”

“Yeah.” Dean flopped down and pulled the covers over the both of us. “But we can’t do anything till morning so…”

I dialed Sam’s number. “Sammy.” I said when he picked up.

“You two done with your, uh, extracurriculars?”

I pressed my cold hands against my reddening neck in a vain attempt to reduce the heat. “Yeah we are.”

“Alright. I just got done scanning the Telescas with EMF. I'll be back in a few.”

“Cockblocker.” Dean muttered. He pushed an arm under my pillow. “Are you and Sammy gonna do research?”

As exhausted as I was, I wasn’t leaving Sam awake alone at night. “Yeah, I am.” I pushed myself up to lean against the headboard. I reached for my laptop and angled it slightly away from Dean. “You go to sleep.”

He yawned. “Yeah, I will.” He was out like a light with his arm trapped between my back and the headboard of the squeaky bed. Oh well, it acted like a lumbar support for me. His soft breath hit my elbow as I typed away on my laptop.

The doorknob clicked. I reached for the gun on the nightstand.

“Hey,” said Sam.

“Oh, hey.” I put the gun back down.

“Is he asleep?”

Both brothers were always checking up on each other. How sweet. “Yeah.” I ruffled Dean’s soft hair. “I did most of the work today, and yet he’s the one that’s snoring.”

“TMI.” Sam shook his head.

“I’m looking into the houses’ histories. For any freak accidents or whatever.”

Sam nodded. “Me too. Which house are you looking at right now? I’ll look at the other two.”

 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty.” Dean’s voice cooed in my ear.

I forced an eye open and immediately hissed. The sunlight burned my retinas. “What the hell.”

“We’re leaving. Some auction house.” He patted my shoulder firmly.

I looked at the clock. 6:00AM “Dammit.” Not even three hours of sleep. I then realised what Dean and Sam were wearing. “Oh my God. Are you guys going to an auction house in that ?”

“Why?” Dean looked at himself and then Sam. “What's wrong with this?”

Their patchworked worn out flannels would stand out like a sore hand. “Everything!”

 

“Alright. You two idiots will follow me.” I fixed my glasses and slicked back my hair, making sure the bun was still tight. I’d managed to wrangle the men behind in suits to even remotely look like the interns I was having them pretend to be. I whirled around to face Dean. “And don’t you dare open your mouth. And food is off limits.”

He smirked. “Yes ma’am.” Seriously? That damn bastard.

We walked into the auction house. I stood tall and let my heels click on the floor, catching the other guests’ eyes and nodding politely.

But of course, Dean had to open his stupid mouth. “Consignment auctions, estate sales. Looks like a garage sale for Wasps if you ask me.”

“Dean.” Sam and I hissed. But we hadn’t gotten an alarming amount of attention yet.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne. “Oh finally.” Dean picked one off. “What?” he said innocently when he saw my glare. “You said food was off limits.”

Well maybe he would be more docile if he were drunk.

I just shook my head and led the boys to some random painting. Dean quickly got disinterested in the painting and moved to stare at a naked lady statue instead. I pretended to continue observing the painting, keeping a blank, or at least I hoped it was blank, face on. I knew that painting, right? It felt achingly familiar. Was it from that one Art History Course I’d had to take?

“You’ll riddle it with holes if you keep glaring at it like that.” I turned to see a handsome young man talking to me from above the spiral staircase. Goddamn he was hot. He was hot in ways Dean wasn’t. Unlike Dean’s tall muscular stature, this guy was thin and lanky, but still tall. And instead of Dean’s handsome dirty blonde hair and green eyes, this guy had insanely black hair, a clean shaven face, and icy blue eyes that were somehow bluer and icier than John’s. Not to mention, he rocked that suit and tie with the shirt that clung onto his insane pectorals. Yeah he was hot. I subtly shifted my ring from my left ring to my left middle finger. Just in case he was interested in me and just in case I could use him to get more information.

I hoped my voice sounded as posh as I’d managed to make myself look with the dangling jewellery. “My apologies.”

“Oh, no need to apologise.” He walked down to stand next to me. “A fine example of American Primitive wouldn't you say?”

1. I knew what American Primitive looked like and it didn’t look like this. I eyed the man. He looked rich and well involved in the arts. “Pretty sure it’s Grant Wood.”

His pretty pink lips curled into a gentle smile. “As you say.” He chuckled. Man, his voice was deep. “I apologise for pulling your leg.” He stuck out his hand. “James Roberts.” And all his hotness faded with the generic white name.

I shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you. Sharon Connors from Connors Limited, one of the art dealers.” I passed him a forged business card when he presented me with his. Huh, lawyer. Hopefully he would come across the fake website I’d set up that read ‘Coming Soon’ as if we were a smaller company just now shifting to digital.

“Oh.” James’ smile faltered. “I don’t recall seeing your name on the guests’ list.”

I took a slow deep breath to calm my racing heart. No need to panic. “Sorry, you must have missed it. I have an invitation.” That I forged from memory from some random posh old guy that was at the bar from last night. But he didn’t need to know that.

His smile fell back into place. “I believe you.” He turned to look at the painting with me. “So, what’s got you looking so intently at the painting? Think you’re gonna buy it?”

“It’s definitely an option. I would like to look at a few other paintings as well if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He held out an arm. “I can show you around.”

I caught Dean staring at me out of the corner of his eye. Sam was just shaking his head. Oh well. I placed my hand on the crook of James’ elbow. “I would love that.”

As I was led around the auction house, I could feel myself easily getting sleepy just by listening to all the things this guy was talking about. He was passionate, yes, but I just wasn’t interested in art. My phone buzzed in my pocket and it took all my willpower to not pull it out.

“So, do you have any questions I might be able to answer?” He said once we finished rounding the entire house.

“I did have one.”

“Shoot.”

“Is everything here from the Telesca estate?”

“Indeed.” He nodded at the large collection. He sighed. “The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Uncle’s right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

Oh. uncle.

A clock chimed somewhere. “Oh, it’s time to go.”

I removed my hand from James’ elbow. “Thank you for your time.”

“No problem.” He scanned me up and down. Oh dear. “Any chance I might see you again?”

I laughed. “Most likely. Bye!”

I hightailed it out of there before he could say anything else. I was not dealing with more social interaction than necessary, and my social battery was pretty drained after putting on that fake smile and asking questions based on tiny tidbits I picked out from his rant when I wasn’t zoning out.

 

Sam had sent me the address for a different motel, much closer to the auction house than our last one. I’d had to ask and stop wayyy too many times to even get to the motel, let alone figure out which room. But at last I was staring at the right number door, or at least I hoped it was after rechecking five times. I fumbled with the keys and opened the door to reveal a disco themed room. Huh.

I spotted Dean on the chair by the table. “Not spending the night at Mr. Posh’s place?” Dean drawled.

I huffed. “I’m not some loose woman who’ll hop into anyone’s bed.”

“You moved your ring.” He took another swig of his beer.

I sighed. “Where’s Sam?”

“Outside. Jess called.”

I tried to pry the bottle out of his hand, but he held on tight. “How many have you had?”

The three empty cases in the corner answered my question. “Really? I pay attention to a guy for information and you protest by throwing an alcoholic tantrum?”

“Didn’t look like you were just paying attention to him.” He snatched his bottle back. “And that.” He gestured to the silver on my hands. “You moved it.”

“I couldn’t risk losing his attention.” I didn’t think he would be this upset over it.

“You see me do that with any other woman?” He looked mad.

“No.” And it was the honest truth. “Dean, let go of the bottle.”

“Oh ‘let go of the bottle’. It’s always with the bottle isn’t it?”

“Dean. I’m sorry.” I tried to grab his hand. “It’s just for the case.”

“And I have to see you kiss someone for it?” He looked away.

I smoothed out my frowning forehead. Alright. This was gonna be a bit of a work. Dean was half drunk too. And if he took another sip of that beer, he might just go into liver failure. “Dean, I’m sorry, alright? I won’t do that again. Now can you let go of the bottle.”

“Don’t pretend to be worried.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Damn straight.”

Yeah he was more than half drunk. “Will a kiss make it better?”

His green eyes slowly lifted up. “Maybe.”

I walked over to him and sat down on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Mhm.” His nose nudged mine.

He reeked of alcohol. No wonder Sam left him here. I kissed him nice and slow. His lips were so damn kissable. Soft and fluffy, and the stubble on his cheeks and chin made them look and feel even softer. I could kiss this man all day. His teeth grazed my bottom lip and I parted mine to let him in. his hands gripped my hips and I let myself exhale in relief. He let go of that damn beer. I could taste the beer in his mouth though, a little bitter, a little sweet.

I let my hands trail down to his neck, where I held on for dear life when he rolled his hips against mine. No, not tonight. I was still a little sore from last night, because the dull throb still hadn’t faded. Not to mention my thighs had been screaming in protest as I walked around in heels all day. Actually, I was pretty sure I had a blister or two right now.

“Not tonight Dean.” I whispered.

“I know.” His hands slid down to my thighs. One of them continued their trail, making their way down my leg to brush against the edge of my heels. “These hurt?”

I groaned. “All day.”

“Any blisters?” His voice was gentler now. Thank God.

“There might be a couple.”

“Don’t wear them tomorrow.” His hands were now slipping the heels off my feet.

“Gotta keep up that rich New Yorker style though.”

“That ton of makeup is doing its job.” He swept his thumb over lips and it came back blood red. “You look better without them.” He tugged a clump of mascara off my eyelashes. Most people didn’t even realise the difference in my looks when I wore makeup. But he did, and I felt my heart flutter. He was always watching. “Just wear your pumps. These tiny pretty little things’ll bleed.”

“Are you worried?” I teased. “I thought you were mad at me.”

His lips curled into a pout. “Still am. But doesn’t mean I’m any less worried.”

“The alcohol is making you all sappy.” I kissed him one last time. “Lemme get changed and we can catch some sleep.” I sniffed his shirt. “Actually, you go take a shower. And brush your teeth. You smell like my Chemistry lab from college.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I can show you a different kind of chemistry, sweetheart.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us.

“Sam!” I jumped off of Dean who cursed under his breath. “When did you get here?!”

“Um, since Dean told you to not wear those heels.”

Holy hell. “I didn’t even notice. Sorry.” I grabbed my sleepwear for the night. “Uh, I’m gonna go get changed.” I rushed into the bathroom.

“Why would you do that, Sammy? I finally had her!” I heard Dean complain even behind the bathroom door.

“You’re definitely drunk. Oh my God the smell. Dean, you reek . What number bottle is that– Holy shit. I was out for thirty minutes.” Sam continued being exasperated at his brother. “Yeah, you are not going to bed like that.”

“I could have gotten in bed with my hot wife. But you just had to–”

I tuned out his and Sam’s bickering and looked at my own face in the mirror. Man, my cheeks were bright red.

 

“I got a date.” I said the next afternoon. I showed Dean and Sam the message. “Today at some rich people restaurant. I looked up the prices, twenty dollars for a chicken breast and a grain of rice is crazy.”

“Are you going?” Dean didn’t look all too happy.

“Dean, we need the provenances.” Sam pointed out. “Maybe she can get some information out of this guy.”

Dean groaned. “Fine, but be back by…” he checked his watch in a show. “I don’t know, in two hours.”

I frowned. “Two?”

“Hey, I’m being generous. Me? I could keep you busy for twenty four hours, sweetheart.” I blushed. “This guy? I give him two minutes to finish. Tops.”

“Again. Can you two not do this while I’m here?” Sam threw his hands in defeat. “Sharon, just come here whenever you’re done. And call if anything happens.”

“Yeah.” I pulled my hair back. “I’ll get this thing done as soon as possible.”

I headed into the bathroom to put my black knee length skirt and white button up shirt back on. It took a while to get the makeup on right, and the thick dangly earrings made my ears hurt every time I moved. But this had to be done. I switched my silver ring onto my left middle finger again. The things I did for information… I walked out slightly wobbly on blistered feet and shoved the swollen appendages into the pencil heels.

I kissed Dean’s cheek before I left. “See you later, jealous boy.”

 

Mundane. That’s what it was. This guy had basically no personality beyond his love for art. And man, other than his face and deep voice, nothing about him was actually attractive. Maybe the amount of money he had, but Gods no not with his desperate attempt at making himself sound insanely smart. This guy liked yapping, a little too much. Dean was better, in every way. In the way his eyes would light up at the sight of a beautiful car but never more than when he saw Baby, the way the left side of his face wrinkled more in a smile especially when he gave me that lopsided smirk, and the way he would always scan the room for exits and any potential threats especially if Sammy or I was with him. Where else was I gonna find a man like him? The answer was simple, I wouldn’t.

 

“How was your date?” Dean said the second I walked into the motel room. He was sprawled on the bed, watching some random game with Sammy on the other.

“Did you get the provenance?” Sam asked.

“Well he wouldn’t just hand them to me. But I found out where that painting was from. ‘Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910.’”

Sam turned off the TV. “Check Dad’s journal.”

Dean pulled it out and thumbed through the pages. “First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms. Peter Simms murdered 1912. Same thing in 1945. Oh, Same in 1970.”

“Then it was donated to a charity auction. The Telescas bought it, and bam they’re dead too. Now that thing is at this auction house.”

Sam hummed. “What do you think, it's haunted? Cursed?”

Dean stood up purposefully. “Either way, it's toast.”

 

This break in involved a little bit of climbing over metal gates. Normally, I would have gone. But these rich New Yorkers had installed twenty foot tall metal gates that I wasn’t gonna be able to climb. I finished annotating yet another spell on my iPad. It had taken me way too many years to digitalise all of Bobby’s papers and lore books into some random notes app. And now I was finishing up the annotations, to make it easier for Dean, Sam, John, and Bobby to search for information whenever they needed it. I made sure to type out key words, and made sure to write down and connect any afterthoughts or random notes on the side as necessary. Hopefully, it was all legible and understandable.

Dammit, I was starting to tear up. I looked at the window when light seeped in from under the curtains. The boys must be back. But I cautiously grabbed my gun anyway. Just in case it wasn’t the people I was expecting.

The doorknob twisted.

“We’re back.” Sam’s voice called

I looked up and there he was, in all his 6’4” inch glory. “Did you guys get the painting?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned. “Burnt to a crisp.”

“Great.” I put my iPad away and ducked under the covers. “I’m going to sleep. ’night.”

“Okay.” Sam said. “I’m gonna go get ready for bed too.”

I peeled back the covers once the bathroom door clicked behind Sam. “Hey,” I said to the man sitting down on the bed beside me. “Are you upset about today?”

“No.” was the response. “It’s fine. We do what we have to, right?” He turned to face me so I could see the small smile on his face. “I’m not mad, alright?”

“Mhm.” I closed my eyes when his lips brushed against my forehead.

His voice was gentle against my ear. “G’night, sweetheart.”

 

Something felt wrong. Something about this case was wrong. It was an unsettling feeling that had settled in my stomach, and it wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t like I had anything concrete either. Just that painting… that stupid painting… It was like I’d seen it before.

“Something’s wrong.” I managed to speak up just as Dean and Sam started packing up. “It doesn’t feel right.” Sam opened his mouth to say something but I held my hand up. “Don’t you dare say anxiety or something because I know for a fact that this isn’t anxiety. I wouldn’t have said anything if it were just anxiety.”

Dean looked almost half concerned. “What do you wanna do?” His question wasn’t condescending or demeaning. He genuinely wanted to know.

I looked down at my blistered feet and exhaled slowly. “Let’s check out the auction house one more time. This feels like–” the rest of the sentence wouldn’t come out.

“An episode?” Sam frowned. “Then it sure as hell isn’t over this easily.”

Dean nodded. “Get in the car. We’re going to the auction house.”

 

“Oh, hey. Sharon!” I looked up when my name was called. “Nice to see you again.”

“You two, uh, know each other?” I gave Dean an alarmed look when he spoke up.

“Uh, yes.” James held out his hand. “James Roberts. She and I went out for lunch yesterday.”

“Oh.” Dean pretended to not know what was going on. “Oh yeah. That thing with a friend that you mentioned.”

Seriously? “Yeah.” I gave James what I hoped was an apologetic look. “Sorry, this is Dean… Smith. And that’s his brother Sam Smith. They’re interns at Connors Limited.”

“I-i see.” James stammered. “Well, are you guys here for the painting?”

“Why yes, actually.” Dean stood wayyy too close to me to be just an intern. “We were wondering if we could see it.”

“My father wants the interns to judge whether the painting is worth buying.” I lied. “Of course, I have my own opinion and I will be doing the actual decision making, but we want them to have some practice.”

“I am sorry to say, but the painting from the other day is being taken out for a viewing at another–”

“OH MY GOD!” Sam jumped when he saw the painting being taken away by a couple of workers. Dean’s and my jaw went slack. But we managed to not cry out in surprise.

“Um, is something wrong?” James looked at us in a concerned manner.

“No, absolutely not.” Sam’s voice was a little panicked, but not enough for strangers to notice. “The… that painting… looks so good!”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what you three see in that painting.” James chuckled. “But it seems that it is a shared passion.”

“Yes.” I managed to get out. “Part of the family, you know.” I cleared my throat. “So, would it be possible to look at it?”

“It’s only being taken out for a viewing by a potential patron who is paying a handsome sum. But nothing has been finalized yet. It’s in bad taste if you ask me. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered. I’m trying to get my Uncle to not sell it again.”

“Good. You know what? Don't. Make sure you don't, okay?” Sam was straight up panicking.

“Sorry, it seems like he has gotten attached to the piece.” I forced a laugh. “Well, we will be back when the painting is back. Please leave me a call on my cell when it’s back.” I flashed him a smile and turned around. “Thank you!”

 

“I don't understand, we burned the damn thing.” Sam hissed when we got into Baby.

“Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious.” Dean shuddered. “All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?”

“Okay, All right. Well, in almost all the lore about haunted paintings it's always the painting's subject that haunts them.”

“Yeah. So we just need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy ass family and that creepy ass painting. What were their names again?”

“Isaiah Merchant.” I answered.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the back seat. I knew this one. With the girl and the razor. I didn’t remember the details but man it had been creepy. I couldn’t fall asleep facing my wall full of posters for a week after this episode. I sighed. I was glad I listened to my gut. Cause this one was gonna be rough. But hadn’t there been a woman that ended up flirting with Sam? Where was she in all of this?

 

Dean, Sam, and I huddled over a pile of books in a second hand book shop I’d made friends with during my shift at the bar. The owner dropped another pile on the table.

“The Isaiah Merchant family, right?” he asked once again.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Sam answered.

Dean was distracted by an old book on guns, nudging me every now and then to show me some cool gun on a page. He was muttering names and numbers and something about recoil. I vaguely followed his excited mumbling and continued flipping through the books. Sam was busy chatting to the owner of the bookstore anyway.

There was a newspaper clipping tucked into one of the books. I pulled it out. It was then that I came across the first Titanic reference of SPN. ‘New Titanic Sinks, 1304 People Go To Watery Graves: Only 866 saved from 2,170 Aboard Liner Which Collides With Iceberg. Disaster Proves To Be the Greatest in Marine History of the World.’ I looked to the side of the newspaper article where there was a smaller section. ‘Father Slaughters Family, Kills Himself’. Yikes.

I continued reading. ‘People who knew him describe Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament. Controlled his family with an iron fist. Wife, two sons, adopted daughter… There were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave…’

Well damn. But I could have sworn that there was more to this case. That the old man wasn’t the one who did this. I massaged my temples as the small words started to blur together. Yeah, no. Too much thinking.

“Hey,” I said a little loudly. Sam and the owner of the bookshop looked at me. “Do you know what happened to the bodies of Isaiah’s family?”

“Read they were all cremated.” the man answered.

“Do you anything else?” Sam jumped on.

“Yeah. Actually I found a picture of the family. It's right here… somewhere.” He fumbled through a stack of papers. “Right, here it is.” It was a picture of the painting.

“Can we get a copy of that, please?”

The owner shrugged. “Sure.”

 

The three of us were sitting at the table in the motel room once again, digging into dinner. Cheeseburgers for Dean, caesar salad for Sam, and chicken tenders for me.

“I'm telling you, I'm sure of it. The painting at the auction house, Dad is looking down. Painting here, Dad's looking out. The painting has changed.” Sam insisted one more time.

“I believe you.”

“But Dean doesn’t.” the younger Winchester huffed.

Dean hummed. “All right so you think that Daddy dearest is trapped in the painting and is handing out Columbian neckties like with his family?” Dean turned to look at me. “That sound about right?”

Yes, but no. There was something else in that painting.

Sam continued. “Well yeah, it seems like it. But if his bones are already dusted, how are we gonna stop him?”

Dean thought for a moment. “All right, well. If Isaiah's position changed then maybe other things in the painting did too. It could give us some clues.” Yes! There was something else in the painting. A painting in the painting itself. That was the clue! But how was I gonna get that information out to the boys?

“What, like a Da Vinci Code deal?”

Dean completely blanked. And honestly? I did too. “I don't… know. Uhh… I'm still waiting for the movie on that one.”

“I live under a rock.” I chimed when Sam looked to me for help. He just slouched and rolled his eyes.

Dean flopped onto the bed and kicked off his boots. “Anyway, we gotta get back in and see that painting.” He tossed my phone in my directly which I somehow managed to catch. “Go on.”

“Ugh.” I had to call James. “Alright. Fine.” I flopped down next to Dean and called James. “Hey James.”

“Oh hi, Sharon!”

“So, um,” alright woman, speak! “I talked to my Uncle and I would like to proceed with buying that painting.”

“Uh, about that.” They sold it already, didn't they?

“Someone bought it?”

“Yeah… Can you please send me their address?”

“Uhh. I'm not supposed to.” I could hear him shuffling on the other side. “Why do you need it?”

“Sorry, I can’t say.”

“I can’t just hand out confidential information like that–”

“Whoever you sold it to is going to be in danger.” I inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Don’t you think it’s weird that every owner of that painting has died? I can’t give you the details. But I can tell you this for sure. Lives are at stake. So please. Send me that address.”

I could hear him debating with himself on the other side. “Fine. I'll text it to you. But I’m coming with.”

Oh hell no. “I wouldn't recommend it. Things might get violent.”

“All the more reason for you to not be alone.”

“I won’t be alone.” I glanced at Sam and Dean.

“Is that guy gonna be there?”

Who? “Who?”

“Y’know. Dean. The intern.”

Dean whistled from next to me. I pressed a finger to his lips that he promptly licked. Bruh. I frowned at him and he became docile again. “Yeah. Him and the other intern, Sam.”

I could hear him shuffling on the other side once more. “I have the address. I’m sending it now.”

“Thank you.” I pocketed my phone. “Alright.” I stretched out my back. “We got work to do.”

 

Dean, Sam, and I exited the car and made our way to the house’s front door.

“Sharon.” I heard James’ voice. Dammit. “What’s happening?” he sounded concerned.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” I told him, not stopping as I started picking the lock.

Sam banged on the door. “Hello! Anybody home?!” No answer. Dammit. The person inside might already be dead. “Might be faster to break down the door.” Sam mentioned.

James continued talking. “You said Evelyn might be in danger, what sort of danger?”

Dean banged on the door. “I can’t break this sucker down.”

“I know, I’m picking it.” I twisted the bobby pin again.

“What are you guys, burglars?” James sounded horrified.

“I wish it was that simple.” Sam shook his head. “Look, you really should wait in the car. It's for your own good.”

“The hell I will. Evelyn's a friend.” James stood his ground. Good to know he had somewhat of a spine.

“Got it.” I twisted the knob and the four of us entered.

“Evelyn?” James called out.

There was a figure slumped over in an armchair. I could tell from the position of her neck that she was gone. Or was she?

“Evelyn.” I walked over to her and laid her body on the floor. Blood pooled from her neck. I put my ear by her mouth and put two fingers against her neck. No breathing. But there was the faintest hint of a pulse. I took off my flannel, leaving me in just my turtleneck and started pushing the fabric into Evelyn’s neck.

“James. Do you know CPR?”

“What?” James looked frantic.

“CPR. Chest compressions.” Dean reiterated.

“I called 911.” Sam said gently.

“I-i think I can.” James stammered. “I took a course in-in college–”

“Good enough.” Dean said curtly. He pressed his fingers against Evelyn’s neck. “Lost pulse.”

Sirens blared outside. “CPR.” I told James again. “Don’t even need mouth to mouth. It don’t matter. Just keep her heart going. Can you do that?”

James shakily nodded and positioned himself above Evelyn, getting blood on his expensive looking shirt. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Come on guys, we gotta go.” Sam tugged me up from the floor.

“Stayin’– what?!” James looked up in shock. “You guys are leaving?”

“I’ll text you the address of where we’ll be. And we’ll explain everything. Just keep doing your little CPR.” I poked my head in when James started losing the tempo of his song. “Another one bites the dust works as well.”

 

“What the hell is going on?!” James yelled as he burst through the motel doors. “Who’s killing these people?!” Oh, he’d changed into a new suit, complete with a clean tie.

“What.” Dean drawled from where he was sprawled on the bed.

“What?”

“It’s not ‘who’.” Sam explained. “It’s ‘what’ is killing those people.”t.

James looked like he was going to rip his hair out.

“What did you tell the cops?” I asked. “And how’s Evelyn?” Since no one else clearly was going to ask the important questions. They were too busy enjoying James’ confused misery, and my misery by extension.

“I lied!” He panicked. “I lied to the cops!” He paced the room like a caged animal. “I told them I was worried about Evelyn because of the murders and went to check on her. And I found her like that by myself.”

“What about my flannel? And is she alive?”

James took a deep breath. “Yeah, she’s alive. I told the I just found the flannel laying around as a rag or something so I used it to stop the blood.” He looked like he was going to throw up from the blood that was staining his own shirt. “Thanks. For Evelyn.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Wait— so— what do you guys mean by ‘what’ is killing those people?”

“James.” Sam tried to explain. “You saw that painting move.”

“No… no I was… I was seeing things. It’s impossible.”

“Yeah, well. Welcome to our world.” Dean said simply.

“James, I know this sounds crazy… but we think that that painting is haunted.” Sam turned to me before continuing. “Actually, we know it’s haunted.”

James seemed to be taking it in stride. “You guys aren’t joking.” I offered him a chair and he collapsed into it. He pulled off his tie and took off his suit. He looked a little too pale as he reached for a bottle of beer.

Dean, Sam, and I watched as he took a giant swig of it. “Look, you guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this? Then me and my Uncle sold this painting that got these people killed.” James took a deep breath. “Then I guess I’d better go with you.”

“What? No!” I crossed my arms. “This can get dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

James broke into a smile as he reached for my hand. “You’re too sweet.”

“Hands off.” Dean chimed nonchalantly.

“Who’re you to—”

“Her husband.” Dean lifted his left hand. “So hands off.”

I sheepishly lifted my wedding ring bearing hand as well. “Sorry. I needed the provenances.”

James’ jaw dropped open. “Shit.”

“I am so sorry.”

“No. No, it's fine.” James exhaled slowly. “Just a lot to take in in less than a day.” He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if debating whether to ask or not. “You played me like a fiddle?”

“Again. I am so sorry.”

“No you’re good.” He laughed dryly. “I wasn’t explicit in my intentions.”

“Oh they were explicit, alright. I know mine are.”

“Dean!” Sam and I cried, aghast.

James just shook it off. “So, are we going or not?”

 

We pulled up to Evelyn’s house once again, this time, with James’ latest model sports car right behind us.

Dean wasted no moment, and went right to lock picking. Only for James to shove a key into the lock and twisting it and swinging the door wide open. Dean’s smirk fell and his face went blank.

I patted his arm. “I still choose you.”

“What am I? A pokemon?” Dean muttered under his breath.

“You know what pokemon are?” Sam was impressed.

I laughed to myself and walked back into the living room where blood stained the floor.

“Are you guys not worried that it's… gonna kill us?”

“Nah, it seems to do its thing at night. I think we're alright in the daylight.” Sam answered.

“Hey, do you have the picture?” Dean asked me.

“Yeah.” I pulled it out of my pocket and Dean held it up to the painting.

“The razor, it's closed in this one but it's open in that one.”

“What are you guys looking for?” James asked, stepping up.

“Well if the spirit’s changing aspects of the painting maybe it's doing so for a reason.”

“Hey, hey. Look at this.” Sam pointed to the painting in the painting. “The painting in the painting.” It was different from the one in the picture.

“Looks like a crypt, or a mausoleum or something.”

I fished out a magnifying glass to see closer into the painting in the actual painting in front of us.

“Merchant.” I read. “It’s the mausoleum or whatever of the Merchant family.”

 

“Y’all. This is literally the third graveyard we’ve checked.” I groaned as I dragged my aching feet through the damp grass.

“I think this ghost is jerking us around.” Dean added.

“So this is what you guys do for a living?” James fell into pace next to me.

“We don’t get paid for this.” I sighed.

“Well, Mazel Tov.”

I did not get what that meant.

Dean suddenly sped up. “Over there.”

We walked up to the mausoleum and Dean broke the locks. Sam ripped at the cobwebs covering everything and I tried to not flinch at the sight of the million spiders inside. Four urns were lined up against the walls, in front of tiny glass cases. And one of the glass cases had a tiny porcelain doll.

“That thing is freaky.” I whispered, staring at the doll. It looked so lifelike, but it looked so dead at the same time.

“It used to be a tradition.” James said. “When a child died, they would preserve the child’s favorite toy in a glass case and place it next to the headstone or crypt.”

“Damn.” I breathed. I ripped my eyes away from the doll’s beady eyes.

“Notice anything strange here?” Dean waved his flashlight around, highlighting every single urn.

“Where do I start?” James muttered.

Sam snickered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “No, look at the urns.”

“There’s only four.” I noted.

“Yeah, mom and the three kids.” Dean leaned down to read one of the nameplates. “Daddy dearest isn’t here.”

James frowned. “Then where is he?”

 

“You should really stop wearing those heels.” Dean, not even the one wearing the thin heels, flinched at the very sight of them.

“Yeah well.” I grabbed his arm to steady myself. “It’s the only good pair I have left that even remotely screams classy.”

“Those pumps would have worked fine.”

“Dude. I got mud on them. I haven’t had the time to wash them at all.” I found my ankles wobbling over a crack in the concrete. “And I’m pretty sure weird rich people’s lawyers’ secretaries wear heels.”

“Or flats.”

“Not covered in mud.”

Dean looked at me skeptically as I forced my trembling ankles up the stairs. “I would help you, but I’m pretty sure lawyers don’t hold their secretary’s hand.”

“Flip you.” I muttered and managed to make the final stretch.

“Miss Marisa? Mister Huntington?” the receptionist looked up as soon as we walked in.

“Yes, that’ll be us.” I handed over my fake business card. “We called in earlier? We need to look at the county death records. For a case for James Roberts.”

“We’ve been expecting you. The door is right…” She scanned the card with her eyes before realising the man standing next to me was exactly her type. She clambered to her feet, and her voice got even sweeter than before. “Right this way.”

Dean gave her a wink and then turned around to smirk at me.

Really? I stepped on his worn out dress shoes with the back of my heels and he hissed. Damn right. He messed with the wrong woman.

 

“I’m never wearing heels again.” I groaned in Dean’s arms as he carried me from the Impala to the motel door. “Sam! Open the door!” Dean yelled when we made it to the door.

Sam opened the door with a gun clenched in his hand. He immediately pocketed it and held the door wider when he realised it was just us. “Dude, what happened?”

“Her heels.” Dean snorted. “That’s what.”

“It’s just a tiny bit of blood–”

“Pouring out from inside her shoes.” Dean was already slipping them off and reaching for the whiskey we always kept on hand for disinfecting injuries.

Sam laughed. “Like the Grimms’ Cinderella?”

“Like the Grimms’ Cinderella.” I let Dean do his thing, pouring the stinging alcohol over the cuts, wrapping up the bleed with gauze, and easing me into my boots.

“Cinderella?” Dean questioned. “Like the Disney princess?”

“The Grimms’ Cinderella.” Sam corrected. “Cinderella’s stepsisters cut their feet to wear the glass slippers and the prince only noticed it on the way to the castle cause they were filled with blood and spilled onto the carriage floor.”

“Huh.” Dean nodded in amusement. “Sucks to be that guy.”

“Oh yeah. Picked the wrong woman twice.”

“Third time’s the charm.” Dean suddenly started looking around the room. “Where’s the guy?”

“Oh.” I hadn’t realised either.

“He went to get food.” Sam explained. “He’s never had gas station food before apparently.”

“Dumbass rich people.” Dean scoffed. “When’s he coming back?”

“Soon, hopefully. I’m kind of hungry.” Sam fell silent for a moment, before talking again. “So what did you guys get?”

“Paydirt. Apparently the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family.” Dean huffed. “So, they gave him over to the county. The county gave him a pauper's funeral. Economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box.”

“So there are bones to burn?”

“There are bones to burn.” I confirmed.

Just then, James stumbled in through the door, carrying four greasy takeout bags and a case of beer looking like he’d just walked into Disney World for the first time. “I didn’t know gummies could taste that good.”

“Gummies?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Dude. They don’t always take like nothing. These ones are sweet .” He held up a bag of Haribos. “And of course, I got food.” He started placing everything on a spot on the table. “I also got beer.”

“Oh yeah!” Dean leapt to his feet and started popping off the caps of the drinks. Three, surprisingly.

James looked awkwardly at the open beer Dean passed to him.

“Take it, man.” Sam laughed softly. “It’s a peace offering.” Dean scoffed at Sam’s comment but pushed the beer one more time in James’ direction.

James gave me a glance before accepting the drink and clinking it with Dean’s. “To women.”

“To women.”

“You two do realise I’m right here, right?” I held out my hands. “Now where’s my fries.”

 

Another night. Another graveyard. Another grave digging.

“You guys are uncomfortably comfortable with this.” James said as he scooped out a gram of dirt. He was trying to help, but he might as well not be helping.

“And you’re helping us out with it.” I laughed to myself. “You gonna turn yourself in once this is done?”

“No, actually.” James pushed his shovel a little deeper. “I’m gonna keep buying bacon from the gas station.”

“Amen, brother.” Dean laughed.

“So James.” I finally decided to ask. “Your uncle, Daniel Blake, had a daughter, right?”

James stopped digging. “How do you know that?” Sam and Dean just watched on with curiosity in their eyes.

“County death records.” I answered. “What happened?” Sarah Blake had been the first woman Sam had shown interest in after Jessica in the series. It had been a turning point for his character, and even Dean’s. And I needed to know what the hell happened to her.

“She was my cousin, but…” James said softly. “We grew up like siblings.” He dug a little harder. “Amazing woman. She would have loved this .” He laughed to himself. “It was at some concert in Madison Square Garden. 2001. Some weird band that she liked. Backstreet Boys?”

My blood ran cold. I had been at that concert. It was my birthday gift to myself. “October 20…?”

“Yeah.” James smiled sadly. “You know about that band?”

Of course I knew about it. I’d wanted to hear ‘I Want It That Way’, one of the few songs I liked from this era, so I’d driven all the way to New York, made a friend even, and we’d gone out to grab a pizza after the concert. “Yeah.” I just kept digging, hoping that James couldn’t see me in the night.

“Well…” James continued his story. “She said she went to get pizza with this other girl after the concert.” Holy shit. “And then she took a cab, and… the driver…” He took a shaky breath. “Sorry. It’s just-, you know what I mean.”

I felt sick. The girl I’d been with had also taken a cab from the pizza place. Was she the same girl? Or was I just panicking? Either way, she’d died. And she wasn’t supposed to. And the girl I’d been with wasn’t supposed to go get pizza either, I’d encouraged her cause why not. And if they were really the same… then I’d killed her.

James pulled out something from his pocket. “I have one last picture of her. Right before the concert.” He passed it to me. And yeah, that was her. I’d killed her.

“I think I got something.” Sam’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

Dean lifted the lid to reveal a decaying body. My whole body heaved and I threw up on the grass. “Shit, sweetheart?” Dean was immediately at my side, rubbing my back. I felt dizzy. I felt sick. My stomach was churning. I’d liked that girl. And now she was dead. Because I’d been lonely and stubborn and wanted pizza for once in my life. “Sam, light ’em up. I’ll take her to the car first.” My ears were ringing as Dean guided me through the woods.

I could hear Sam and James in the distance talking worriedly. I hadn’t meant to be a burden. I hadn’t meant to kill her. I hadn’t meant to kill the one person I’d gotten the courage to make friends with.

Dean picked me up onto Baby’s hood and swiped at my cheeks. “Was she the friend you made?” He asked gently. I nodded. For someone who always got made fun of as the dumbest in the family, he sure was sharp when it mattered. He remained standing in between my legs, one hand protective and steady on my thigh, and the other wiping my face clean. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.” I gripped his wrists. “I’ve killed so many people, Dean. I shouldn’t have–”

“You didn’t know.”

“But I should have known better.” I breathed shakily. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You are.” was the firm response. But was I?

“She wasn’t supposed to die.” I whimpered. “Everything I do–”

“You saved Evelyn.”

“And killed his sister.” I reminded him. “Everything I do has consequences. And I’m scared .” I had been scared since day 1. Ever since I’d gotten here, I’d tried to keep a low profile. Assisting on random small cases. I’d tried to keep to myself as much as possible, making friends with people I was sure never got involved in the series unless they were a main character with insane plot armour. But of course I couldn’t. I was a lonely selfish little brat who wanted attention from people. Sure I wasn’t a social butterfly, I could barely hold a conversation with a stranger, but I also needed friends to confide in. There was only so much I could talk about with Bobby, and Dean was always on a hunt, and Sam was just a little baby brother to me and he had his own worries with school and whatnot, and like hell I was telling every single deep dark secret to him.

Dean’s hands were gentle as he kept rubbing circles into my skin. He pulled me into his chest and I let myself cling onto him. He was the only one I wanted to tell everything to, the only one I trusted to hold onto everything I said.

“I got you, sweetheart.” he whispered into my hair. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m sorry.” I sniffled. I’d gotten his shirt wet.

“No.” he kissed my cheek. I leaned into his touch even further. “It’s not your fault.” He kissed me again, this time on my lips, drowning out my whimpers. “And I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it. Alright?” I nodded against him. He kept his grip tight around me until I managed to get my breathing back under control. “We can talk later,” he said quietly. “If you want. But right now.” he pulled out his keys to unlock Baby. “Let's make sure we got this son of a bitch.”

 

“You guys stay in the car.” came Dean’s instruction. But like hell I was taking orders. “Sweetheart, you just had a mental breakdown.”

“I know. But I’m putting it on hold.” I slammed Baby’s door shut.

“We’ll keep the engine running.” Sam said and clambered into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, me too.” James slumped in the back, rubbing his arms. “That was an intense workout.”

“Welcome to the club.” I forced a laugh. “We’ll be back. Just making sure the thing is gone for sure this time.” I was pretty sure it wasn’t. There was something else. But with the way I’d broken down just minutes ago, I couldn’t remember what it was.

Dean and I walked into the house once more, and looked at the painting still in the living room.

“So, uh.” Dean said as we both stared wide eyed at the painting. “Wasn’t there a little girl and a razor in that thing?”

I bolted for the door, only for it to slam shut. Shit!

“Dean?!” Sam yelled from the other side.

“Sharon!” James banged on the door. “Why did you close the door?!”

“Wasn’t us!” I yelled back. “The little girl did it!”

I turned around defensively when a little girl’s shrieks rang out through the house. Dean was immediately beside me, his green eyes darting all around the place. Dean’s hand was warm on my back as laughter continued to echo through the house. My phone rang. I picked it up, Sammy.

“Sam.” I gasped.

“You guys okay? What little girl?”

“The girl in the painting. It was her all along.” Dean barked into the phone.

“Wasn’t the dad looking down at the girl in the painting?” James’ voice was shaking. “Maybe he was trying to warn us about the girl.”

“Well that’s all good and all, but can you guys get us out of here?”

“Oh yeah, lemme just grab my battering ram.” Sam said sarcastically. “I can’t pick the lock. And the door won’t budge.”

“Sam, she’s coming.” I gripped onto Dean’s jacket.

“Let’s go find salt and iron.” Dean said and pulled me along with him. To the kitchen. I tried to get my breathing under control along with the panic my heart was beating with.

In, two, three, out, two, three. I opened up every bottom cabinet I could see and Dean opened the top ones. Nothing.

“What kind of house doesn’t have salt?” Dean snapped.

“Low sodium freaks.” Sam shot from the other side.

I suddenly had a brainwave. “Poker.”

“You wanna play cards?” Dean followed me into the living room.

I grabbed the poker sticks from the fireplace. The heat seeped into my hands, but it was a welcome change in temperature, considering the doors just slammed shut, sealing us in the living room with nowhere else to go. Dean grabbed a stick too and pushed me behind him. “Good thinking,” he said gently.

“Now that.” I stared at the little girl standing in front of us with her doll dragging on the floor, razor in the other hand. “That is gonna give me nightmares.”

She lunged and Dean swung. The girl disappeared.

“Sam, you got something?” Dean said into the phone.

“I don't know, she was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn.”

“Then how's she still around?”

“There must be something else.”

“Hey guys.” James suddenly said. Dean and I stared at the phone in my hands. “We used to handle antique dolls at the auction.”

“Aw, how cute. How is that gonna help us?” Dean said sarcastically.

James continued, undeterred. “Well back then they used to make the dolls in the kids image, I mean everything, They would use the kid's real hair.”

“Human remains, the same as bones.” Sam whispered.

“The mausoleum!” Dean and Sam said in unison.

Sam hung up.

The girl appeared again. “Aw hell nah.” I waved the poker in her direction and she disappeared with a cruel smile.

“Just gotta stay alive until Sammy burns that thing.” Dean’s back pressed against mine as we scanned the room cautiously.

A cupboard came flying at us. Dean and I managed to dive away just in time, but it led to us being separated. But no matter, we could both hold our own.

Or we would if that stupid little girl hadn’t pinned us against the walls. I struggled against the invisible power holding me up. The little girl cackled in front of me, clutching her doll tight, and waving the razor around like a menace.

Fuck. I spotted Dean struggling on a different wall. His forehead was bleeding and the poker stick lay uselessly on the ground.

The girl giggled again and I almost passed out from the pressure that started to build against my neck. Dammit. I focused on the poker and imagined it flying into my hands. A low thrum took over my body and I could see the poker trembling. Come on, come on… My head throbbed, but the damn stick was finally in my hands. I flicked the iron bar just enough to brush against the girl and she shrieked before disappearing.

I collapsed onto the ground. Dean.

“Dean?” I crawled over to where Dean was pushing himself up on shaky arms.

“I’m fine.” he winced as he brought his hand up to his head. “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know.”

We looked around, and there she was again, looking absolutely furious. Her small chubby face was curled into a terrifying sneer and she wasted no time in swinging the razor down on us this time. I instinctively closed my eyes as she came for me first.

“No!” Dean cried and wrapped his arms around me to shield me from the blade.

The girl suddenly shrieked. And a burning flame lit up the room. I cracked an eye open when I sensed the heat and saw the girl’s spirit burning away.

“He did it.” Dean gasped, loosening his grip around me. “Sammy did it.”

I nodded weakly in his arms. The throbbing in my head had taken over and I was a little too dizzy to actually do anything else. Dean dialed Sam’s number, and Sam picked up on the first ring. “Hey Sammy… yeah she’s gone… uh-huh… no we’re both okay.”

 

James and I watched the painting be crated up. I was in my regular jeans and sleeveless turtleneck that revealed the black jungle in my armpits if I raised my arms even slightly. And of course my shoes. No more of those posh rich people pencil heels, but sturdy worn out boots that were wayyy more practical and comfortable. I’d given up on wrestling with my hair after the eventful last night and just let my tangled hair rest in a low ponytail.

“You know, I prefer you like this.” James said with a smile. “I mean you looked gorgeous dressed like that too, but just… you seem more comfortable like this.”

“Yeah. My blisters and sweaty armpits are happy too.” I laughed dryly.

“Don’t put yourself down. You really look good even dressed like a homeless person.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

Silence fell over us and I swung my feet from the box I was sitting on. “So.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not… upset about… Sarah?”

“My cousin?” James’ blue gaze met mine. I hadn’t even realised how blue his eyes were. “Well. I'm sad she died. And there was a time I resented the girl that didn’t walk her home.” He sighed. “But now that I think about it. Then that girl would have had to walk back to her home alone. And… she could have been attacked too. And that would mean there would be another family grieving their loss.” He gave me a bittersweet smile. “It really was dumb. I was in grief. My feelings were irrational. But I’ve come to terms with it. It can happen to anyone, any day, anywhere. And I miss her. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone else.” He cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is… it’s not your fault. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself.”

I nodded. That was what everyone kept saying. And maybe I should really stop blaming myself.

“Sir, where do we put this?” one of the workers asked.

“Take it out to the back and burn it.” James said confidently.

“Sir?” the worker’s jaw dropped open.

“You heard me.” James said a little louder. “Burn it. I’m serious, guys. Don’t tell my uncle.”

The workers hesitantly followed his orders.

“Hey!” Dean’s voice called out.

James and I turned around to see him walking up with a stack of papers. “This was archived in the county records. The Merchant's adopted daughter Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Cause her real family was murdered in their beds.”

“She killed them?” James blinked in surprise.

“Yeah. Who'd suspect her? Sweet little girl.” Dean sighed.

Sam continued. “So then she kills Isaiah and his family. And the dad takes the blame. His spirit's been trying to warn people ever since.”

“So why'd the girl do it?” James asked.

“Some people are just born messed up.” I answered. “And when they die, their spirits are just as crazy.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. I don't really care. It's over, we move on.”

“Yeah, we should go.” Sam nodded at me. I hopped off the box I was sitting on and followed Dean and Sam.

“Thanks for everything.” James said softly. “And I hope we can continue being friends.” he passed me an expensive looking blue silk napkin with his initials on it. James Roberts. And his number written on it with a marker.

I pocketed the napkin and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Notes:

Resources Used: https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6579
And if anyone else wants info on what other songs are on beat for CPR, then here's a list. You're actually encouraged to sing it out loud when you do do CPR. maybe don't sing them in a hospital as a healthcare worker... lol. I made this more for myself for funsies.
1. Hips Don't Lie
2. Stayin' Alive
3. Baby Shark
4. Sweet Home Alabama
5. Another One Bites the Dust (my personal favorite)
6. Eye of the Tiger (Dean would love it)
7. Hollaback Girl
8. Highway to Hell (Dean would, especially after coming back from hell)
9. Numb
10. Heartbreaker (I would do this while I actively break their ribs)
11. Just Dance
12. BYE BYE BYE
13. UPTOWN FUNK (DON'T BELIEVE ME JUST WATCH)
14. TikTok (on the clock let the party non stop)
15. Let's Get it Started
A KPOP PLAYLIST FOR IT TOO CAUSE WHY NOT:
1. Not Shy by Itzy
2. Case 143 by Stray Kids
3. Loco by Itzy
4. Back Door by Stray Kids
5. Hype Boy by New Jeans
6. Bite Me by Enhypen (gonna suck their neck instead of checking for pulse on their jugular)
7. Dynamite by BTS (SET THE NIGHT ALIGHT)
8. Chk Chk Boom by Stray Kids (VAMOS I KNOW THAT YOU WANT IT BOOM)
9. God's Menu by Stray Kids (Cooking like a chef I'm a 5 star michelin)
10. Anti Fragile by Lesserafim
11. Fearless by Lesserafim (sassy shoulder rolls halfway into CPR)
12. Pink Venom by Blackpink
13. ON by BTS
14. Maniac by Stray Kids (lot of Skz huh)
15. Smart by Lesserafim
Then that got me thinking about Jpop songs, so here's another list for myself:
1. Dokoni by Psychic Fever
2. Habanero by Psychic Fever
3. Paradise by Psychic Fever
4. Rich and Bad by Psychic Fever
5. Spark it Up by Psychic Fever
6. New Era by Sixtones
7. Apollo by Mamoru Miyano
8. Body Rock by Mamoru Miyano
9. Can't Ever Let You Go by Mamoru Miyano
10. Dream On by Mamoru Miyano
11. Last Dance by Mamoru Miyano
12. Supernova by OWV
13. Daydream by Octpath
14. Octave by Octpath
15. Don't Tell Nobody by Oneoreight

Chapter 26: Dead Man's Blood

Summary:

"“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting.” Dean pressed on. “Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.” I felt like crying.
Surely John would protest, right? I’d taught him how to communicate better than that. “I am.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Outdid myself on violence
2. Graphic descriptions of throwing up
3. Organs everywhere
This turned out to be short somehow. Oopsie.

I laid down with my head on Dean’s solid stomach as I kept weaving the steel needle through the worn out threads. Dean was flipping through the newspaper while Sam was happily chatting with Jessica on his own bed.

“There’s nothing here.” Dean groaned, throwing the newspaper to the floor. His hands came up to my neck and fiddled with the neckline. “Come on, sweetheart. A little fun?”

I dared to look at him and he waggled his eyebrows. “No.” He whined playfully and slipped a hand down my shirt to trace the edge of my bra. I slapped his hand away. “Sam’s over here.”

“Sammy, can you leave.”

“No. Fuck you.” was the prompt answer. But he did get up and grab his laptop. “But I think I’ll go somewhere more quiet.”

“Find us something to do would you.” Dean called as Sam slammed the door shut, still talking to Jessica with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Bitch.” he muttered. “Won’t even answer me.”

“You did just kick him out.” I finished off the knot.

“Oh please. He wanted to leave.” Dean’s hand ducked under my bra to trace my nipple. I shivered involuntarily and clenched my thighs together. Oh hell. “You’re awfully sensitive today.”

“Mm.” I tried to hold back a moan when he pinched.

His hand splayed out to cover my entire breast with his warmth and I nearly melted into a puddle. “Wanna have some fun now?” Dean’s voice was low and teasing.

I tossed my crochet onto the other bed and started taking off my clothes. “Now that I’m all hot and bothered? Yeah.”

 

It was a whole day well spent. And I was… well, spent. How many rounds had we gone? Four? Five? I glanced at the clock blearily. Man, it had been four hours? I’d lost track of how many times I’d reached my climax and to think that Dean had only come twice. He still looked like he wanted to go another round, but was holding back for my sake. His stamina was truly insane.

I grimaced when I moved to lay down a little more comfortably. Everything ached. And I knew Dean had been gentle. I had no doubt Dean would have gone for more if Sam hadn’t called him. He was now on the phone with Sam in a corner of the room flipping through John’s journal. I closed my eyes and half listened to the conversation, not really processing any of the things being spoken.

“Here.” A glass clinked onto the nightstand next to me and I reached out for it. Dean, now in his jeans again, sat down and started unfolding a fresh pair of clothes for me. “We think we have a case. Manning, Colorado.”

“Mhm.” Case. Colorado. Mountains. Snow. Vacation. Skiing. Home .

“Sweetheart.” Dean’s hand was gently on my thigh. “You back yet?”

The cold water woke me up from whatever trance I was in. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” I blinked my eyes to try and focus again.

“Sam’s meeting us again in a few. We’re leaving immediately.”

I lifted the blanket to look down at the sticky mess left under. “Can I please take a shower?”

Dean smirked. “Only if I can join in.”

He earned nothing but a light smack.

 

It was nighttime when we made it to Elkins’ cabin. I parked my bike next to the Impala and followed the brothers, boots crunching on the thick layer of snow.

I crouched down to pick the lock – oh my back – and I pushed the squeaky wooden door open. Dean and Sam trailed behind cautiously.

“Salt by the door.” Sam pointed out.

“You mean protection against demon salt, or ‘whoops I spilled the popcorn’ salt.”

“More like ‘we should get a hula hoop of salt’ salt.” I winced at the horrible salt circle. It was clearly made for efficiency and not aesthetic purposes, but man did it hurt my eyes.

“Do you think this guy Elkins was a player?” Sam asked.

“Definitely,” Dean grabbed a journal from the coffee table. “This looks a hell lot like Dad’s.”

“Except it dates back to the ‘60s.” Sam read the diary entries.

I pulled on Dean’s arm and he lowered the diary for me to read too. “It’s a Hunters’ diary.”

Dean hummed in agreement. He closed the book and we decided to continue traipsing around the house.

“Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one.” Sam noted.

I brought my flashlight up to the hole in the ceiling. “Strong ones to add.”

“Looks like he put up a hell of a fight too.” Dean’s flashlight lit up the mess in the room. We walked into the next room and Dean knelt down.

“You got something?” Sam asked. He and I joined Dean on the floor.

“I dunno. Some scratches on the floor.”

“Death throes maybe?”

I produced a pencil and notepad from my pocket and ripped out a page. Dean took it to the floor and started scribbling over the page. “Or maybe a message.” He muttered.

The note revealed three letters and six digits. And with how many letters I’d sent out to Hunters all across America thanks to Bobby’s connections, I knew exactly what they were. “Mail drop.”

“Just the way Dad does it.” Sam whispered.

 

I let my bike rumble as Dean and I watched Sam go and pick up the letter from the mail drop. He slid into the Impala and passed it to Dean who held it so I could see it through his window. “J.W.” I read the initials of the recipient.

“John Winchester.” Sam nodded.

“Should we open it?” Dean debated with himself.

I felt a presence next to me. I whipped out my gun and aimed it at the man standing just a foot away from my bike with a smile. “John!” I gasped. I quickly put my gun away.

“Dad!” Sam and Dean said with excitement, especially when John slid into the backseat.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Sam was already beside himself with excitement, and Dean too vibrated with joy. He looked so damn happy. “Are you all right?”

John chuckled. “Yeah, I'm ok. I read the news about Daniel, I got here as fast as I could. I saw you kids at his place.”

“Why didn’t you come in, Dad?” Sam’s voice had gone soft.

“You know why.” John sounded sad. “Because I had to make sure you weren't followed… by anyone or anything.” He turned to Dean. “Nice job covering your tracks by the way.”

Dean’s chest puffed out with pride. “Yeah, well, we learned from the best.”

Sam suddenly frowned. “Wait, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?”

“Yeah. He was… he was a good man.” John sighed. “He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting.”

“Well you never mentioned him to us.”

“We had a… we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years.” He motioned for the envelope. “I should look at that.” He pulled out a pocket knife and sliced it open. “‘If you're reading this, I'm already dead’… that son of a bitch.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“He had it the whole time.”

“Dad what?” Sam repeated.

“When you searched the place, did you see a gun. An old revolver, an antique, did you see it?”

The colt. We were that close to the end of Season 1 already? John’s eyes landed on me. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“It wasn’t there.” I answered.

John clenched his fists. “They have it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You mean whatever killed Elkins?”

John started getting out of the car. I spotted his lifted truck just a ways down from where the Impala was parked. “We gotta pick up the trail.”

“Wait. You want us to come with you?” Sam’s voice could barely contain his excitement.

“If Elkins was telling the truth we gotta find this gun.”

“The gun, why?”

“Because it's important, that's why.” Such a dad answer.

“Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet.” Dean leaned out of the window to continue talking to John.

“They were what Daniel Elkins killed best: Vampires.”

“Vampires? I thought there was no such thing.”

“I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins and others had wiped them out. I was wrong.” John started heading to his car. “Sharon, you know about Vampires, right? Tell the boys.”

“You knew about Vampires?” Both brothers asked at the same time.

I shrugged and pointed to my head. “It was classified until now, I guess.” I cleared my throat and started explaining. “Most of the things on TV about vampires are wrong. The whole garlic, crosses, thing. Not being able to come in without an invitation… all that stuff. Sunlight is a pain to them but they won’t die of it, and they look fine in mirrors too… uh…” What else… “You can’t kill them with a stake to the heart either. Beheading works.”

“Huh.” Dean started Baby back up when John’s truck pulled up in front of us.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

 

John watched the kids sleeping in the two beds. It was a rare moment of quiet, even with the cop’s radio buzzing in the background. It reminded him of before the fight, before Sammy left him and Dean alone– well not alone, Sharon had been there, joining them on occasion. But she had a life outside of hunting, and no matter how many people he was with… no one would ever replace his Sammy, his son.

He nudged at the half eaten burrito in front of him that Sharon had shoved under his nose. ‘Bought too much.’ she’d muttered and then Dean had opened up a beer for him, and Sam had fiddled with the radio to the right channel. John cracked a smile. Sometimes he wondered if it was him taking care of the kids or the kids taking care of him.

He pushed himself up and wandered over to the beds. Sam was sleeping sprawled out, his legs almost hanging off the bed because of his height, and the blanket had been kicked down to somewhere. He picked up the thin motel blanket and threw it over his youngest, smiling when the boy curled a little more in peace.

John then walked over to where Dean and Sharon were asleep. Dean had his arm over her, and Sharon had her head resting on Dean’s chest. They both looked peaceful. The silvers of their rings caught the moonlight and John found himself reaching for his own wedding band. It glistened in gold instead of silver, and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine Mary’s face lighting up with joy when he presented her with a diamond studded ring of gold. For six whole years, he’d enjoyed the sight of it on her, and now all he had left to remind him of it was a thin band of gold.

He broke into a smile when Dean’s eyes opened up sleepily to brush Sharon’s hair off his chin, before hitting the pillow again, his arm just a tad bit tighter around his wife’s waist. Yeah… Mary’s hair would also tickle him in his sleep and he used to have to hold himself back from sneezing every time the fan blew strands of her golden hair into his nose.

He ruffled Dean’s hair, and his eldest son blinked grumpily up at him. “Sorry son, go back to sleep.”

“Mm.” Dean huffed before going back to snoring.

John walked back to the armchair he had been in, and flopped back down.

He let his eyes close for just a moment. This was peaceful. He could live with this forever. And then Sammy would bring home his girlfriend, Jessica if he remembered right, and John would officiate his wedding too. Dean would be Sam’s best man, Sharon the ring bearer if not the maid of honor, and Bobby would be pretending to not cry in a corner. Jessica would be walked down the aisle by her father and her mother would sob openly at the sight. Yeah, he could live with this. He just needed the Colt. just needed to kill Azazel. He was close, so close.

He grabbed the beer Dean had opened and started chugging it down, occasionally nibbling at the cold burrito and paying rapt attention to the radio as it started to get serious.

Unit 22 let me confirm. Mile marker 41,abandoned car. You need a workup?

Copy that. Possible 207. Better get forensics out here.

That was all John needed to tap the three kids’ feet.

“Sam, Dean, Sharon. Let’s go.”

Dean woke up first, reflexively listening to orders. Sam was next, pushing himself up with a frown. Then at last was Sharon, slouching in the bed with a frown and her hair all over her face. If John hadn’t gotten used to the sight, then he would have shot her with rocksalt.

“I picked up a police call.” John found himself explaining. He put on his jacket and tossed the kids their own. “A couple called 911, found a body in the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires.”

“How do you know?” Of course it was Sam who challenged. He nearly missed the stubborn defiance.

“Just follow me, ok?”

John let the motel door click behind him, just to remind the kids it was urgent.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

 

“I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him.” Sam sulked.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s already starting.” Dean groaned. And honestly? I shared his sentiment. I doubted I had enough strength in me to break up a fight between a father and a son. “What have you got?” Dean asked when John walked up.

“What’s starting?” Sam muttered under his breath.

“It was them all right.” John nodded. “Looks like they're heading west. We'll have to double back to get around that detour.”

“How can you be so sure?” Sam challenged.

“Sam…” I gently slapped Sam’s arm, and he glared at me.

“I just wanna know we’re going in the right direction.”

“We are.” John pulled out something and passed it to Dean. “I found this.”

“Vampire teeth.” I realised.

“Yes. the second set descends when they attack.” John fixed Sam with a steely gaze. “Any more questions?” Sam looked away with pressed lips. “All right, let's get out of here, we're losing daylight.”

We all headed to our respective rides. “Hey Dean.” John suddenly said. “Why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it.”

Dean looked down, his face red. Sam sniggered and Dean’s fists clenched tight.

Dammit, John. I placed a hand on Dean’s arm. “Hey, it’s fine.” I whispered to him. “You love the car. And that’s what matters, right?”

He shook it off. “I should take better care of it.”

Really, John? I could feel a headache coming on. Was that the best way John could remind Dean that Baby was overdue on maintenance?

 

I liked the snow, but maybe driving in it, not so much. My bike was starting to lose grip on the road thanks to the ice forming after the sun had melted the snow just by the lanes. It took both hands to drive comfortably, and one hand with a shocking amount of concentration and strength to keep the tiny vehicle upright. Dammit. I grimaced as I nearly lost control once again. The giant truck, John’s truck, in front of me seemed to have no trouble driving, and Baby’s headlights didn’t even waver slightly behind me. My Kawasaki might have better mileage and speed than both the four wheelers in front and behind me, but it sure required a lot of control.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I strengthened my grip on the handles before carefully pulling out the ringing phone.

“Sharon,” John’s voice was calm on the other side. “Pull off at the next exit.”

“Why? Is everything okay?” I held the phone with one hand as I steadied my bike. Damn ice.

“We might have the vampire’s tail.”

Oh. “Alright.”

“Sam and Dean are going to pull over…”

His voice got drowned out by the roar of Baby’s engine as she crossed both me and John. I turned to look at Sam gunning the engine and Dean yelling at him.

Suddenly, John’s truck slammed to a stop. I twisted the brakes too, but the ice had other plans. The world tilted. My bike went slamming into the back of his truck and my neck hit the asphalt.

The wind was knocked out of me and I couldn’t even scream from pain or shock. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

My head spun. What the hell. I pushed myself up, and took note of what was happening.

My heart was racing. My head was spinning. And my ears wouldn’t stop ringing. My body seemed fine. The brakes had kind of slowed me down enough to not cause severe damage. But I was definitely bruised. The shiny black paint of my bike had been scratched up, but otherwise it seemed to be fine.

I took deep breaths to kind of try and get myself back to reality. If the vampires were on our tail then I very well couldn’t just lie in the middle of the road like this.

Sam and John were arguing. And with each passing moment they got louder and louder, and with each increase in decibel increased the pounding in my head.

Dean. Where was he?

Strong hands were pulling me up. I gasped as the world went white.

“Shit, Sharon, I’m so sorry.” Sammy kept apologising.

“That was risky, son. Look at what you’ve done!” John was angry.

“Can you two not fight? You’re not helping.” Dean. I was hoisted up somewhere, and someone was taking off my helmet. “Hey, hey, sweetheart.” Oh Dean. I leaned forward into his arms. “Yeah, yeah. I gotchu.” His hands peeled my eyes apart. “Follow Sammy’s finger.” I focused on the long fingers of the youngest Winchester as he moved them from side to side.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” John raised his fist.

“Zero.” I managed.

“Now?”

“Three.”

“Now?”

“Eleven.” I cracked a smile. “Kidding. Just one.”

“Not a concussion.” John plucked me off the back of his truck and placed me in the passenger’s seat. I was too out of it to protest.

 

“You good enough for the fight?”

I turned to my left to see John handling the truck with ease. “Yeah.” the throbbing in my head had gone down, and I felt fine otherwise. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t fought with bruises before. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sam didn’t mean it.” John said quietly.

“It’s fine.” I winced. My answer came out harsher than I’d wanted it to. “I mean– I get it. He was upset with something. And he got a little reckless. I don’t blame him.”

“He should have been more careful. You could have died.”

“It’s fine. He didn’t mean it.” The car fell silent again, just the low hum of Zeppelin coming from the music system. “You should talk to Sam. And Dean.”

“Why?” he grunted. “They don’t wanna talk to me.”

“You’re their Dad.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I stopped being that ever since Mary died.”

“Intentionally?” I pressed.

His eyes were a sad blue when he answered. “No.”

“Then you guys should talk.”

 

The beat up Camaro pulled up to the barn. I joined Dean, Sam, and John behind the bushes.

“You sure you should be here?” Dean asked once more.

“I’m fine.” I huffed.

“I-i really didn’t mean to– I’m so sorry–”

“Sam, I said it’s okay.” I patted his shoulder. “It’s fine, okay? I’m alright.”

“Still…”

“It was the ice’s fault. Wouldn’t have happened on another day.” I refocused on the vampires. “That guy’s hot.”

Dean scowled. “Hello? Husband here?”

“Major flirt, you mean.” I rolled my eyes.

“Guys, the sun really doesn’t affect them.” Sam whispered.

“Direct sunlight hurts them like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill 'em is by beheading. And yeah, they sleep during the day, doesn't mean they won't wake up.”

“I guess walking right in's not our best option.” Dean muttered.

“Actually…” John stood up just enough to make his way back to his truck. “That’s the plan.”

 

A machete. I was standing in the middle of a forest with a machete in my hands and a vampire’s nest less than half a mile away. Holy fu– freaking heck.

“Dad I've got an extra machete if you need one.” Dean offered the spare in his trunk.

“I think I'm ok. Thanks.” John revealed a shiny serrated machete from his own trunk.

“Wow.” Dean’s wide eyes never left the weapon as he took it in.

“Wanna hold it?” John held it out to Dean who gingerly took it. He tested out the weight and held it up so the sun glinted off the metal. “So you boys really wanna know about the Colt?”

“Yes sir.” Sam answered.

“It's just a story, legend really. Well I thought it was.” John looked off into the distance. “Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter… Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the Same night those men died at the Alamo. They say Samuel Colt made a gun. A special gun. He made it for a hunter, a man like us only on horseback. Story goes he made thirteen bullets, and this hunter used the gun half a dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. And somehow Daniel got his hands on it.” I didn’t even remember the details of the story. “They say… They say this gun can kill anything.” This. This was the part that actually mattered.

And Dean caught onto it. “Kill anything like, supernatural anything?”

“Like the demon.” Sam breathed.

“Yeah, like the demon.” John grinned menacingly. “Ever since I picked up its trail I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun, we may have it.”

And then John would give up that gun, and his own life to save Dean. I had to make sure things never came to that.

 

I sat grumpily in the driver’s side of the Impala uselessly. My machete laid on the dashboard, also uselessly. Why the hell was I on car duty? And why did we even need someone on car duty? I thought we were gonna kill the vampires outright. And I wanted to be in there with them. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts. Just nine years ago I would have been saying I was gonna run in the opposite direction if I ever spotted vampires. I forced out a laugh. Oh how times had changed.

I scooted over to the passenger’s side, carefully to make sure I didn’t stab myself, and pulled down the visor with the mirror on the back. My hair was as average as ever, but the smile lines around my cheeks were starting to become prominent. I was almost thirty I realised. And to think I used to panic over turning twenty and no longer being a teenager.

Blackheads littered my nose, it was so damn hard to find good face scrubs in gas stations, and my skin had started breaking out in random spots. Not to mention the cracks on my lips… I caught a dry piece of skin in the corner of my mouth and ripped it out. Red bloomed on the normally pink skin and I blinked at the familiar throbbing. My eyes travelled slightly upwards to the mustache. It was due for a threading. I’d given up on the nasty sideburns and the hairs on my cheek and neck. But the least I could do was not look like a man in the upper lips department.

And despite all my flaws, Dean swore I was the most beautiful woman in the world. Why did he even stay with me? I had no idea. 

I fiddled around with the crocheted dolls that always rolled around the wedge between the backrest and the actual seat. It was almost time for the men to come back. Where were they?

“Dad?! Dad!” I heard yells.

I looked to the forest where Dean and Sam were running up with their eyes trained on a figure behind them.

“Go, go, go!” John yelled. “Get in the car!”

I slid over to the driver’s side and knocked the machete to the floor. Dean barreled in just a second later and I spotted Sam easily jumping up into John’s lifted truck.

Pedal to the metal, and I pulled out in front of John’s truck as I saw the older man clamber into his own vehicle’s passenger side through the rearview mirror. Less than a minute later, he and Sam were overtaking me to take the lead. Good, cause I had no idea where to go.

“We’re going to the nearest funeral home.” Dean said, grimacing as his legs were crunched up thanks to how far I’d had to bring the front seat to even reach the wheel and the pedals. “Could you get any shorter?”

“Skill issue.” I bit back.

“Dad said we need dead man’s blood.” Dean pretended to not hear my comment. “Oh, and he’s not driving to the funeral home.”

I almost slammed the brakes. “Dude, I don’t know which way to go.”

“Do you ever look at a map?”

“I thought I was banned from it after saying we should drive off a cliff.”

“Huh.” he smirked. “Skill issue.”

“Flip you.” I hit him with the back of my knuckles gently.

He chuckled before motioning to the side of the road. “Pull over, sweetheart. I’ll drive.”

It kind of hurt my ego, but I wasn’t going to say no to a literal front seat view of Dean Winchester, the man himself, driving. Besides, I always drove when we went out on my bike to get dinner or something anyway. “Fine.”

 

“For some reason, dead people places have more security than sick and living people places.” I pushed the door to the motel room open.

John put down the gun he’d picked up and nodded. “Did you get the blood?”

“Yeah.” Dean revealed the jar of red liquid in his hands.

“Good.” John stood up and jerked his head at the crossbows and sniper rifle. “You guys know what to do.”

 

Absolutely wrong timing to admire my beautiful husband considering we were luring out vampires especially through the scope of a sniper… but damn his muscles looked good when he bent over Baby’s bonnet. And not to mention his back was gorgeous . The rumble of another car and the crunch of leaves below me had me flickering my eyes to the things making the sound.

I kept my breathing to a minimum on the tree I was perched on. And how did I get up there with my mediocre climbing skills? A frigging grapple hook and harness obviously. I was surprisingly good at rock climbing. With calculated deep breaths, I kept my heartbeat steady, no sign of panic… just yet.

A female walked out of her car with an exaggerated sway of her hips and leaned against Baby. Oh my God, a vampire was flirting with Dean.

“Car trouble?” I read her lips. “Let me give you a lift. I'll take you back to my place.”

“Nah I'll pass.” Dean was grinning. “Even if my wife’s got a necrophilia kink, I’m not indulging her in it.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I lifted my rifle up again. There was another man below the tree I was on, making his way slowly to where Dean was. But he wasn’t a threat to me, or Dean. yet.

“Oooh.” the vampire sneered before smacking Dean and lifting him up by the neck. His beautiful green eyes remained focused on her even as he gripped her wrist tightly.

“I don't usually get this friendly until the second date but…”

“You know we could have some fun. I always like to make new friends.” And the absolute bitch pulled him down to kiss him. Oh fuck her. I pulled the trigger, and she looked down at her wound. “Damn it. It barely even stings.”

A slap from me would sting. I shot the next bullet into the other vampire that had been watching them. He dropped with an open mouth.

“Give it time sweetheart.” John mocked. “That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood.” Dean slipped out of her hold as she started swaying. “It's like poison to you isn't it?” The female vampire collapsed on the road. “Load her up.” John ordered. “I’ll take care of this one.”

And a head rolled off into the woods.

 

I hated camping out in the woods, hated it with every fiber of my being. There were too many bugs, too many noises. And the weather always sucked. As much as I liked the snow I didn’t want to be out in it for hours on end.

Sam circled the fire, acting as a patrol for any approaching vampires. I just kept playing with my own blade, watching it flick snow every time I let it brush against my boot.

I looked up when I heard snow and dried leaves crunching.

“Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk's cabbage and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers, until we're ready.” Ah, it was just John.

Dean followed after with a bag of stinky stuff. “Stuff stinks!” he choked.

John chuckled. “That's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you stand a chance of not being detected.” Dean grudgingly smeared his jacket with the putrid ash.

“You sure they'll come after her?” Sam cringed when he too was passed the bag of ash.

“Yeah. Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun.” John finally threw on some ash himself. “But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time.” Thank God I didn’t need any… Why was I being passed the bag…? “You probably smell like Dean considering how you two were all over each other.”

Oh. Oh. The cold did nothing to stop the flush taking over my cheeks.

“A half hour oughta do it.” Sam came to stand next to me and I was thankful for the change in topic.

“And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can.”

The three of us kids frowned. “No.” was the obvious response.

“I'll have her. And the colt.”

“But after. We're gonna meet up right?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Use the gun together.” He looked John dead in the eyes. “Right?”

John didn’t reply.

Sam scowled. “You're leaving again aren't you. You still wanna go after the demon alone. You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like children!”

“You are my children. I'm trying to keep you safe.”

“Dad, all due respect but, that's a bunch of crap.” I hadn’t expected Dean to speak up. Even John and Sam were shocked. His voice wasn’t exactly angry, it was more resigned than anything. Like he’d come to terms with it.

“Dean…” I whispered.

“Excuse me?” John demanded.

“You know what Sammy and I have been hunting.” Dean pressed on. “Hell you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe.” I felt like crying.

Surely John would protest, right? I’d taught him how to communicate better than that. “I am.” I sighed with relief when John stood his ground. “I knew you boys could handle those trips alone. It’s like how I trusted you with a car. You could die any day driving. Hell, Sharon crashed and almost died today.”

“Well, a car is a car . Everyone drives!” Dean pointed out.

“We’re not exactly everyone, are we son?” John’s voice wavered ever so slightly. “I needed to know that you and Sam would be safe if anything ever happened to me. That you two could protect yourselves, if not anything else.”

“Well, then I think we’ve proven ourselves.” Dean stood a little straighter, rolling his shoulders back. “So tell me. Why do you want us out of the big fight?”

“This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive.”

“You mean you can't be as reckless.”

“Look… I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death, it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too, I won't.” John looked at both his sons sadly.

“What happens if you die? Dad what happens if you die and we coulda done something about it.” Dean’s voice softened just a little bit. “You know I've been thinking. I… maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together.”

Sam nodded.

I remained silent. The family needed their own moment without me crashing in.

Dean continued. “We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it.”

John didn’t say anything. Just looked away at the road. “We're running out of time. You do your job and you get out of the area. That's an order.” And we were back to square one. “I need you alive.” Maybe on square 1.5.

 

There was no way the boys were going to listen to John.

“You guys go with John.” I pushed a full magazine into my gun. “I can take care of the vamp nest on my own.”

“What?” Dean hissed. “No way.”

“That’s a suicide mission.” Sam added.

“Yeah? Well I wonder what’s faster. A bullet coated in dead man’s blood or vampire legs. Besides, the guns are back up.” I hefted my trusty sniper rifle and slung it over my shoulder. “You guys broke the windows right? The vampires don’t even have my scent. They might but the stinky stuff should cover that much.” The brothers still looked skeptical. “Guys, this is the best case scenario. I won’t go in to chop off their heads until all of them are passed out from the blood.” I forced a smile despite the hammering of my heart. “How many times have I saved y’all?”

“More than I’d like.” Dean relented. “If the plan goes south, you call.”

“You bet.”

“Not text. Call .” Sam emphasised. “We’ll be keeping an eye on our phones.”

I nodded. “So… we doing this?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “We gotta.”

 

Well slam me on the wall and do me sideways. These vampires were hot . As much as I hated Twilight and all those vampire romance stories for all their inaccuracies, I did like them for one thing they got right. Vampires were hot.

I watched each of them through the shattered windows from my perch on the tree. No, like seriously, shooting these suckers was so easy. Why did Sam and Dean always have these elaborate plans on the TV show? Sneaking into the hideout… chopping off vampire heads while they were at full strength… I thought they were true Redneck Americans. Just shoot everything. Get a machine gun full of dead man’s blood coated bullets, and bam not a vampire in sight. We didn’t even need those irradiating weapons the British Men of Letters used. Machine guns solved everything.

One vampire got close enough to the window for me to shoot. My bullet went straight through the guy’s brain. He crumpled to the floor with a howl. Bull’s eye. I waited for the other vampires to come crowding near him. Two more… perfect… I shot again. And those two fell to the floor with a shriek as well. A small group of vampires came stumbling out of the barn and I trained my scope on them as well. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Rapid fire round. Shoulder shots, leg shots, arm shots, and one neck shot. Not perfect headshots, but good enough. Those mobile shooter games had prepped me well.

I gripped my machete and started easing myself onto the ground. Chop, chop, time to work.

Obviously I wasn’t gonna get the vampire’s heads in one strike.

“What have we ever done to you!” cried one of them. And then launched into a passionate speech that had another vampire crying. Yeah, I had no time for that.

I slammed the blade down onto his neck and stomped on it with my boot. A little brutal. But it felt good to get the anger out. I blocked out the vampire’s screams. He- no, it- was a killer, a monster, and needed to go. I moved onto the next few whimpering ones and repeated the motions.

Blood splattered everywhere. It soaked my boots, soaked my jeans, and even splashed onto my flannel and arms. Man it was bloody.

As the last vampire of the group outside gave their final cries, I stumbled backwards and tried to catch my breath. I felt lightheaded, queasy. I wanted to throw up, but my work isn't done yet. I could throw up and scream later.

“Fucking… bitch…!” a weakened vampire stumbled out of the barn. Another bullet? I grabbed my gun and shot her right in the chest.

Still lightheaded, I walked over to her and separated her head from her body. Man, I’d really overestimated my mental strength. Okay… two more.

The next heads were a blur. All I remembered was screams. And when they died out, I collapsed against the wall, trying to get myself back together. I had to make it back to my bike. And give my report. But hurling once wasn’t a bad idea, right? Maybe I would be a little less green when I met up with the Winchesters?

“H-hey…!” came a weak voice.

I snapped my head up and gripped my gun. More vampires? Sam and Dean had stated there were twelve total. Two were dead, and Sam and Dean had texted that four more were tailing John. And I’d taken care of six… then who the hell was crying out?

I made my way cautiously to a separated area of the barn. I blinked in shock at the cages holding people inside. One, two, three, four… There were seven in total.

“Are you guys human?” I asked. They nodded shakily. “Open your mouths.” I demanded. “I’m gonna press down on your gums, alright?” They cowered when I reached out for their mouths. I pressed down on their upper gums and nothing slid out. They were humans indeed.

I pulled out a hairpin and got to work. The locks fell with clangs and the people kept staring at me with wide eyes. “You guys never saw me. Alright? This was… some gang violence thing. I don’t know. Whatever it was, y’all never saw me.”

They nodded with fear and I forced my heavy legs to move outside. Heads and headless bodies littered the outside of the barn. Their blood seeped into the snow and some of their vertebrae stood out on the patches of red on the bright white snow. The moonlight wasn’t helping the sight either.

Yeah, I was about to pass out. I collapsed against a tree and took deep breaths. In, two, three, out, two three. In, two, three, out, two, three… a wave of nausea rolled in and I doubled over.

It was hot and sticky and stank. And the smell only made me wanna hurl more. My eyes watered from the smell and I found myself rolling onto a clean patch of snow. I closed my eyes. What the hell was I doing? I was stronger than this. I wasn’t weak. I was fine. I had to be fine. I needed to call the others.

I scrolled through my contacts list before finding Dean’s. I brought up my phone to my ear and waited for him to pick up. He picked up on the first ring itself.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

This must be Heaven. “Hey,”

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just a bunch of dead vampires…” I pushed myself up. Just hearing his voice made me feel a little better. “I got the people out too.”

“Awesome.”

Oh, I hadn’t asked him about his side yet. “What about you guys?” I started making my way to my bike.

“We’re done here too.” Dean said gently. “Are we meeting up at the motel? Or should I pick you up?”

I hesitated. I could say to meet up at the motel. It would be more convenient. But I also doubted I could safely drive back. I definitely needed adult supervision.

I must have taken too long thinking because Dean followed up with “We’re headed in your direction.”

“Okay.”

“Can you drive?”

“Yeah.” I could if he was right in front of me.

“Just sit tight, sweetheart.” I could hear Baby’s engine roar a little louder on the other side. “Be there in five.”

 

“Six vampires at once…” John smiled when I walked in with Dean and Sam. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thanks.” I didn’t feel that great. But a compliment was a compliment.

“But you three ignored a direct order back there.”

I looked down at my feet. Yeah, we had.

“Yes sir.” Sam stood in front of me and Dean, glaring defiantly at John.

“Yeah but we saved your ass.” Dean added.

“You’re right.” John relented.

“I am?”

John sighed. “It scares the hell out of me. You two– three now– are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family. So… let's go after this damn thing. Together.”

Dean, Sam, and I stood straighter. “Yes sir.”

Notes:

Resources Used:
https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6580
John's dialogue was a lot different here than it was in the show. I had him communicate with his kids, and I feel like yeah, this is definitely better.
Ok so like... HOT GUY TALKED TO ME. He waved and smiled at me right before Bio lab, AND SAT NEXT TO ME FOR 10 MINS STRAIGHT. And I held a decent conversation with him, not stumbling over my words, but I did turn bright red. It's fine, right? But more importantly I didn't know he knew I was in his bio lab, we've never even acknowledged each other's presence before bio lab ever. And I never brought it up with him either. So like... WTF. What else does he know about me. Anyway I live for his smile and his beautiful eyes and that lovely voice of his. UGH, and to think I forgot his existence over spring break. T_T

Chapter 27: Salvation

“Dude.” I said exasperatedly into the phone. “I swear, I’m not gonna get kidnapped. It’s a frigging supply run. I’m gonna grab something we can all eat without getting diabetes or high cholesterol or high blood pressure and that’s it.”

“The demon’s close, Sharon.” Dean said from the other side.

“I know.” I placed the cart of food on the cashier’s counter. “Dean. I appreciate you worrying for me, but I can hold my own.”

The cashier started scanning everything.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle. “It’s gone after Mom, it went after Jess. What’s stopping it from going after you?”

Honestly? Nothing. “Yeah, well. I’m prepared.”

The cashier finished scanning and read out the total. I slid over my stolen credit card and the guy behind the counter didn’t even question why a man’s name was on the card. “Thank you, ma’am.” He drawled as I finished exiting the store.

I half listened as Dean kept rattling off his concerns about the demon and whatnot. “Salvation, Iowa is our next stop.” he said.

“Okay, hey, Dean.” I finished strapping the bags to my bike. “Look, I’ll be there in, like, less than ten minutes. We can talk then, yeah? I can’t even hear what John and Sam are saying.”

He grumbled out a “fine” and grudgingly hung up.

“Why hello there, Sharon.” I turned around at the call of my name. A woman stood in front of me and my heart almost stopped pumping. Meg. In all her skinny pixie cut blonde glory.

Then everything went blacker than her eyes.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

Sam was done with it all. Jess hadn’t responded to his text messages since last night. And it had been almost twenty four hours of silence.

“She’s probably just busy.” Dean tried to tell him. But Sam knew deep down something was wrong. ‘Intuition’. And Sharon wasn’t back yet either. Dean was pacing from worry. “Maybe it’s that time of the month and she had to go to a drug store to get supplies.” Even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Calm down boys. Women are fickle creatures.” And yet, Dad sounded like he was worried too.

Sam grit his teeth as a wave of pain took over his head.

And suddenly, he wasn’t in the cold motel room. He was surrounded by fire, looking up at a woman pinned to the ceiling, her stomach sliced open, blood dripping down onto the crib. And over the crib stood a man. But he obviously wasn’t the father. And when the man looked up, Sam caught a glimpse of yellow. As yellow as the day he and Dean had dragged Sharon and Jess out of the fire. As yellow as the day his mother had died over his crib in the same manner.

He gasped when the cold air returned against his sweaty skin. Dean’s hand was on his shoulder and Dad was watching him silently from the bed.

“A vision.” Dad said flatly.

Sam swallowed dryly. “Yeah.”

“What did you see?” Dean was now kneeling in front of him, gripping his shoulders like his life depended on it.

“I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling.” Sam tried to breathe slowly, calm and steady. “The woman I met today– on the sidewalk–” Her little baby girl was named Rosie. “It was her.”

“And you think this is going to happen to this woman you met because…” Of course Dad was skeptical.

But Sam knew how weird it sounded, even for them. Hell, even his older brother who trusted him more than anyone else in the world– maybe Sharon– had looked at him skeptically. So he pushed down the irritation. “Because these things happen exactly the way I see them.”

“It started out as nightmares. Then it started happening while he was awake.” Dean explained.

Sam winced as the last bit of headache rolled through. “Yeah. It's like the closer I get to anything to do with the demon the stronger the visions get.”

“All right. When were you going to tell me about this?” Dad sounded pissed.

Sam scoffed. That was just like him.

But Dean was even more pissed. Sam watched in shock as his obedient, John’s boot licker of a brother got right in their Dad’s face. “Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence all right? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery.”

Dad’s voice got quieter. “You're right. Although I'm not too crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry.”

And for the first time, Sam found himself being the rational peacemaker in his miserable dysfunctional family. “Look guys, visions or no visions, fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell we went through.”

Dad’s tone was firm. “No they're not. No one is, ever again.”

Sam’s phone rang. His eyes lit up at the number as he picked it up. “Hey, Jess?”

“Sam?”

Sam stilled. “Who’s this?” This wasn’t Jess.

“Think real hard it will come to you.”

Sam shot up from his chair in shock. No. No, no, no, no… “Meg…?” He could hear Jess’ whimpers faintly. He had to buy time. “Last time I saw you you fell out of a window.”

Dean was already guiding him to sit down on the bed. “Yeah, no thanks to Sharon. That really hurt my feelings by the way. Tell her that… oh wait, I can just tell her that myself.” A shriek erupted from wherever Meg was. “Leave her alone!” was Jess’ cry. Followed by a few sobs. “Man, she really sleeps through this, huh. Always was such a good little sleeper.”

Sam looked at Dean with wild eyes. She had her too. He turned to Dad who mouthed ‘keep talking’. “Just your feelings? That was a seven-story drop.”

“Lemme speak to your Dad.”

Sam flinched as he looked at his Dad again. “My Dad. I don't know where my Dad is.”

“It’s time for the grown ups to talk, Sam, let me speak to him now.” His skin crawled with how sweet her voice sounded. He hesitantly passed the phone to Dad.

“What the hell?” Dean mouthed. “She has both of them?”

Sam nodded shakily.

“This is John.” Dad’s voice was flat. “… I’m here… Sharon… No, you let her go.”

Sam’s hand shot out to grab Dean’s. It was shaking from anger. And so was Sam’s. He clenched his hands into fists to force himself to calm down.

“You listen to me. Those girls got nothing to do with anything. You let them go.”

That was the last straw. Sam released Dean and started packing a bag. Dean joined him a moment later, grabbing holy water, salt, guns– anything and everything.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No, no, no!” Sam gasped as Jess’ shrill cries of terror ripped through the motel room. His Dad flinched as he held the phone away from his ear. “Leave us alone!” was Jess’ whimpering sobs. “SAM!” He heard her cry. “She’s gonna kill her… she’s killing her…!”

Dean wrenched the phone from Dad’s hand. Sam hadn’t even noticed him walk over. His heart pounded as Dean’s voice was deadly calm. “I'm gonna kill you, you know that?”

Meg said something on the other side that made Dean’s eyes grow wider. His Dad pried the phone from his hands and put it back up to his ear. Sam was even more terrified with how Dad was gripping Dean’s shoulder and Dean looked like it was the only thing keeping him together. Sam had to assume the worst.

“Okay.” was the oldest Winchester’s curt response. “…I said okay, they’ll bring you the colt.”

‘They’? Sam walked tepidly towards his older brother. Dean just ran a hand down his face.

“That's impossible. It’s a day’s journey, and they can’t bring a gun onto the plane.”

Sam watched as his Dad ripped the phone away from his ear and glared at it. “Motherfucking bitch hung up.” He threw the phone across the room and Sam flinched.

The man seemed to notice and sighed. “They’re still alive.”

It wasn’t much comfort. But he had to hold onto it. “Okay.”

“Dad, what do we do?” Dean’s voice was small, quiet. Sam didn’t like it one bit.

“There's a warehouse in Lincoln, on the corner of Wabash and Lake.” Sam listened intently along with his brother. “She wants the colt. We give her the colt.” The sentence itself seemed like a sucker punch. Especially coming from a man as dedicated to his wife like John Winchester. They’d given up everything just to get revenge for their mother. And now, here they had the colt. And they were about to lose it again. Lose the only means to their revenge. “I lost Mary.” His Dad’s voice shook at the end. “I’m not letting you boys lose them like I did.”

“Dad…” Dean moved first. He pulled their Dad into a hug. “

 

1st Person P.O.V.

By the time I woke up and was conscious enough to think, I had been tied to a chair, and I was in some abandoned warehouse. How was I? There was blood in my mouth. And my breathing felt labored, not to mention a stabbing pain around my ribs… yeah at least one was broken. Everything else felt fine. More or less. Bruises weren’t something to be worried about too much.

“Sharon?” a terrified female voice cried.

Oh fucking hell no. “Jessica?” I hissed. God, even talking hurt.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” she sounded absolutely out of it. “Meg. Sam told me about her.” Her breaths were fast paced, but shallow. And she sounded like she was going to collapse any second.

“Sucks, but yeah.” I tested out the bonds around my hands. Tight as hell, but not impossible to get out of. If I dislocated a thumb or managed to get a nail in my hands then I could saw off the thing. Sawing it off was option number one. I was kind of attached to my hands being twisted the right way. “Are you hurt?”

Jessica laughed dryly. “Just a punch to the jaw. You’ve got the worst of it.”

“How long was I out?”

“I don’t know.” she whispered. “A long while. I blacked out at some point. But I know Meg called Sam, Dean, and their Dad.”

Fuck. “What’d she want?”

“Something called the colt. It’s a gun right?”

I closed my eyes. She knew about the colt. “Yeah. Do you have any idea of what the boys said?”

“I think they’re bringing it.”

I doubted it. They were probably bringing a fake. But I kept that information to myself. “Do you know where she is right now?”

“Somewhere– I don’t know.”

“Any idea if she might be gone for long?”

“I don’t. Fucking. Know.” She grit her teeth and by the way her voice was starting to slur I could tell she was about to pass out. “Sorry. I’m just– I–”

I nodded. “Fair enough.” I trained my eyes on her wide blue eyes that were panicking. “Look at me.”

“What?” she said breathlessly.

“Look at me.” Her eyes trembled as she forced herself to look at me. “Focus on your breathing. You gotta get it under control. Panicking it isn’t gonna help. We both need to be calm if we wanna escape.”

She nodded weakly and started breathing slower. Good.

I fiddled with a loose screw in the chair. A splinter got itself stuck between my fingers but it would have to wait. A splinter would mean nothing if I died. With the dexterity of someone who crocheted as stress relief, I managed to position the nail at an angle enough that I could saw through the ropes. The only problem was… where the hell was Meg? Was Azazel with her here?

“Christo.” “Christo.”

I blinked in surprise as Jessica said the word at the same time as me. She too stared before a corner of her lips quirked up. “We had the same idea.”

I smiled despite the situation. “Oh yeah.”

“Taking God’s name isn’t gonna save you.” said a shrill voice.

I straightened up in the chair and stared right back at her. “Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

A fist rattled my jaw and snapped my head back. Oh that bitch. I tasted fresh blood.

“NO!” Jessica screamed. She screamed once more when a hand slapped her across her cheek.

My vision swam and my ears started ringing. “I’m fine.” I forced out.

“Are you?” Meg raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah.” I dropped the ropes from my hand and swung out with the sharp rusted nail.

Meg yelped and jumped back. “When did you– How–”

“Too many crime show marathons.” I shrugged.

And then I was pinned to a wall by Meg’s psychic powers. Or whatever they were. Well, two could play at that game. I had her fly into a different wall and she gasped. Her grasp on me slipped just enough and I sent a chair slamming into her stomach. She doubled over in pain and clutched at it.

“Come on, Jessica.” I rushed over to the taller blonde woman and undid her bindings.

“Wh-where are we going?”

“Out of here. Can you stand?”

Jessica nodded weakly. “Yeah, I-I just need a minute.”

I took that time to walk over to Meg and jammed my boot into her cheek. “Stay down.” I swiped up the phone from the floor and she snarled obscenities. I dialed the number I’d memorised within the first week of landing in this world and whispered a “Hi. Dean?”

“Sharon?” It was Dean. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Jess?”

“We’re both fine. We’re getting out of here.” I pushed Meg’s head down with my leg when she tried to sit up again. It burned like a bitch. It was at least sprained. And blood was caked on my jeans. Oh well. I pushed on Meg’s head harder. She grunted and choked on her blood. Her vessel was dead anyways. I could get a little rough. Right? It still left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. “I’m not quite sure where we are. But this–” I stomped on Meg’s back. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” I could hear Baby’s tires skidding from the other side. “Where are you guys?”

“Heading to you.” Baby’s engine roared louder. “It was a ten hour drive, but Meg wanted us there by dawn.”

“Around five hours. We’ll be there no matter what.” Sam confirmed.

I laughed into the phone despite the situation. “You’re gonna fly?”

I could almost hear the smile in Dean’s voice. “Maybe. Baby could grow wings.” 

Sam’s grumbling was audible. “This is not the time for your jokes.” He grew somber. “She wants the Colt.”

“Are y’all good?”

No response. Until Dean scoffed. “Sam, she’s on the phone. She can’t see you nod.”

I laughed as the brothers launched into another bicker. I turned to Jessica and held out a rope. “Jessica, you good at tying knots?”

She blinked and shrugged. “I could be.”

“Awesome, let’s tie this one up.” I kept Meg down on the floor, and Jess started tying her up. I ripped out a piece of cloth from the walls and forced it around the demon’s eyes. No more telekinesis. When she opened her mouth to start rambling in Latin, I pushed another ball of moth eaten cloth into her mouth.

“Sam, we’re okay.” Jessica said finally. “Seriously. Tell your brother that too.”

Sam wasn’t convinced. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Wait– what about John?”

There was a second of silence. “Dad’s got a case in Salvation. To do with the Demon. Some family that hopefully won’t end up like ours.”

“Where?”

“Salvation, Iowa.”

“Okay, but that means nothing to me.” I’d forgotten I sucked at maps.

“Five hours. Just hang on for five hours.” Sam said again. “And stay safe.”

“We will.” I looked at Jessica and nodded. I hung up and looked at the squirming woman on the ground.

“We should get out of here.” Jessica noted. “And here.” She reached out to swipe her thumb over my lips. “You’re bleeding.” I was bleeding places she couldn’t see either. It was a miracle we didn’t have worse injuries than we already did. I wondered if Chuck’s plot armor was also for us.

“Oh yeah. It happens.”

Meg struggled against her bonds and I held my breath when they gave just a little bit. Right, super strength was also a demon ability.

I grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

It was ten minutes to midnight when John pulled up in front of the quaint little house down the block. He held a gun in his hand. It wasn’t the colt.  He felt the crushing disappointment when he realised that even if Azazel did show up to this house, he wouldn’t be able to kill him. The Colt, the only thing he knew would kill Azazel for sure, was not with him. And he knew Azazel was going to show up tonight. Right here. As the baby’s wails broke through the night when the window opened to what he assumed was the nursery, he felt nothing but guilt for his earlier thoughts.

The Colt. He’d given it to his sons. To go and save their own additions to the family. He’d lost his wife. And he wasn’t going to let his kids go through the same pain. That was the least he could do for his sons after dragging them across the country and teaching them how to sharpen blades instead of making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and teaching them how to shoot rather than play catch and throw with a baseball.

The baby wailed again and John leapt down from his truck. He concealed the gun under his jacket and walked up to the door of the small family home.

He knocked on the door sharply.

“Hello,” said a confused man. “Can I help you?”

“You and your wife need to get out.” John caught a glimpse of the clock ticking closer to midnight. “I highly recommend leaving as soon as possible.”

The man frowned. “And why would we do that?”

John pulled out his gun and aimed it at the man’s head. “Otherwise you all die.”

 

1st Person P.O.V.

We ran through doors, locking them behind us as we crossed each and every one.

“So, uh.” I looked at the deadbolted warehouse gate. “What do we do here?”

Jessica leaned to look at some electric locking mechanism beside the gate. “Might be able to work this.”

“You know how to hack stuff?”

She smiled sheepishly. “My ex boyfriend from high school… his dad was a locksmith.”

“Huh.” I blinked at the new information. What could I do until then? I looked around and found a leaking pipe. Holy water. I walked over to where it had been exposed. I reached for the scrunchie in my hair and tugged it out. I pulled apart the inner seam and it revealed a thin string of rosary beads. Perfect. I started chanting in Latin.

“Exorcizo te creaturam salis, per Deum v vum + per Deum + verum + per Deum sanctum + per Deum qui te per Eizæum prophetam in aquam mitti jussit, ut sanaretur steritas aquæ, ut efficiaris sal exorcisatus in salutem credent um; ut sis omnibus te sumentibus sanitas animæ et corporis, et effugiat at que discedat ab eo loco, qui aspersus fuerit omnis phantasia et nequitia, vel versut diabolicæ frauds, omnisq; spiritus immundus, adjuratus per eum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et sæculum per ignem amen. Oremus Immensam clementiam tuam, omnipotens ceterne Deus humiliter imploramus, ut hanc creaturam salis, quam in usum generis humani tribuist bene + dicere et sancti + ficare tua pietate digneris, ut sit omnibus sumentibus salus mentis et corporis, ut quicquid ex eo tactum fuerit, vel respersum careat omni immundicia, omniq; impugnatione spiritualis nequitiæ, per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum filium tuum, qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate spiritus sanct Deus per omnia sæcula sæculorum, Amen.

Exorciso te creaturam aqua in nomine + patris + et Jesu Christi filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute spiritus + sancti + ut fias aqua exorcisata, ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas, cum angelis suis apostatis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christi qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et sæculum per ignem Amen.

“Oremus Deus, qui ad salutem humani generis maxima qua que sacramenta in aquarum substantia condidisti, adesto propitius invocationibus nostrils et elemento huic multimodis purificationibus præparato, virtutem tuæ bene + didionis infunde ut creatura tua mysteriis tuis serviens, ad abigendos dæmones, morbosq; pellendos, divinæ gratiæ sumat effectum, ut quicquid in domibus, vel in locis fidelium hæc unda resperserit, careat omni immundicia liberetur à noxa, non illic resideat spiritus pestilens, non aura corrumpens, descedant omnes insidiæ latentis inimici et si quid est, quod aut incolumitati habitantium invidet aut quieti , aspersione hujus aquæ effugiat, ut salubritas per invocationem sancti tui nominis expetita ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa, per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum filium tuum, qui tecum vivit et regnat, in unitate spiritus sancti Deus per omnia sæcula sæculorum, Amen.”

I pushed the rosary bead into the pipe and moved my other hand in the shape of a cross. Just as written in John’s journal. And continued chanting.

“Commixtio salis et aqua pariter fiat, in nomine patris et filii, et spiritus sancti Amen. Dominus vobiscum, Et cum spiritu tuo, Oremus: Deus invictæ virtutis author, et insuperabilis imperii rex, ac semper magnificus trumphator qui adversæ dominationis vires reprimis, qui inimici rugient sævitam superas, qui hostiles nequitias potens expugnas te Domine trementes et supplices deprecamur ac petimus, ut hane creaturam salis et aquæ aspicias benignus illustres, pietatis tuæ rore sancti fices, ubicunq; fuerit aspersa, per invocationem sancti tui nominis, omnis infestatio immundi spiritus abjiciatur, terrórq; venenosi serpentis procul pellatur, et præsentia sancti spiritus nobis misericordiam tuam poscentibus ubiq; adesse dignetur, per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christumfilium tuum, qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitate spiritus sancti Deus per omnia sæcula sæculorum, Amen.”

“Oh, wow.” Jessica whispered as she came to stand next to me. “You memorised all that?”

I shrugged. “Someone else in the family had to. John has it memorised too.”

“And Sam?”

“Well… he never really wanted anything to do with this life.” I smiled sadly. “If he put his mind to it though, I have no doubt he could.”

She laughed. “That’s my Sam.”

“Did you get the lock?”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah, we should be able to go.”

“WHERE ARE YOU?!” Meg shrieked. And a door broke in the distance.

Shit. “Come on, Jessica.” I grabbed her hand and forced my legs to move.

Everything protested. And the adrenaline was starting to wear off. But we made our way out of the warehouse. The two of us went stumbling onto the pavement as we both tried to catch our breaths. I looked back. We’d run quite a bit of distance. But the warehouse was huge and we’d only circled a quarter of the perimeter. Meg would catch up with us soon enough. I looked down at my ankle. It was swelling up so bad. And breathing had become much harder than it was when I’d just regained consciousness in the warehouse.

“What do we do?” Jessica gasped.

I swallowed. “Something I always knew would work.”

I turned my head upwards. “We need to get to that water tank.”

“What?” Jessica looked up incredulously. “It’s so high up!”

“Well, we gotta live, don’t we?”

I willed my body to move and started searching for a way to get up to the water tank.

“You’re shaking.” Jessica noted.

I scoffed. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Another yell came from the warehouse. Meg. She was getting closer surely. I whipped around when something tugged on my bloodied flannel. “I found rungs.” Jessica whispered.

Awesome. I let Jessica go on ahead. “Just keep climbing.” I told her. “No matter what happens. Don’t stop.”

“What?”

“Seriously. Just keep going up.” I tapped her calves. “Girl, keep climbing.”

She nodded and kept going up.

I had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep myself from screaming in pain as I made my way up.

Everything hurt. It burned and it throbbed and it ached. I hadn’t felt like this ever in my life. I’d been sliced at, eaten at, thrown against walls and whatnot, but nothing compared to this.

Physical pain was one thing. But I had a defenseless girl to keep alive. And backup was still hours away. Dean or John or Bobby, or even Sam weren’t next to me to keep me grounded. It was just me. Jessica was strong, but she wasn’t used to this yet. I could already hear the gasps and whimpers coming from her as she tried to keep up the pace.

Dean. He better get here in time. And surely, he wasn’t going to be dumb enough to bring the Colt right? This episode wasn’t going at all how I knew it to go. I was pretty sure Meg had gotten a different guy for this. Not Jessica.

“Sharon?” came her weak voice. “I don’t think I can go further. My-my hands are slipping.”

“You slip and we become demon food.” I nudged her foot despite the pain. “Come on. We gotta get up.”

“Why are we even going up?!” she demanded. “I think I deserve to know why, right?”

I sighed. She and Sam were similar in this regard. “Cause the holy water. I enchanted the pipes in the warehouse and they should all be connected to this water tank. So we should be safe if we get in that thing.

“Get in the water tank?”

“Oh yeah. We’re gonna be swimming. You know how to float?”

“Um– yeah– but this is a stupid idea!”

“It’s the only thing that’ll keep us alive! We have no weapons!”

“Can’t you exorcise that bitch?”

“I would’ve if I could’ve! I need that thing to be absolutely stationary while I did it! And the demon part of her would have come out and been even stronger. And neither you nor I are exactly in a position to fight, are we?”

“But we’re gonna swim for hours?”

“There you are~” came a sing song voice.

I looked down and there she was. Meg. “Fucking hell.” I nudged Jessica one more time. “Climb faster please.”

“I’m trying!” she bit back.

I used my arms as hooks to hang onto the rungs and started slamming down on the rung just below me with my good leg. The rust had already weakened it and with a few good hits, it was tumbling down and Meg had to jump away to not get hit.

“Oh, you’re playing a dangerous game.” Meg cracked her neck before starting up on the climb.

“Any day now, Jessica!” I broke off another rung and Meg swung to avoid it.

“There!” Jessica gasped as she finally managed to get on the concrete roof.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Oh my God.” I gasped.

Jessica leaned over the edge. “She’s still coming.”

Yeah. Meg looked like she was straight out of a horror movie. I decided to focus on the rungs above her. I felt the familiar hum and throbbing in my head and the rungs detached from the concrete walls and began falling. Good enough. That would slow her down just enough.

“Come on.” I pushed myself up and led Jessica to the water tank. “Any idea how long left for the guys?”

Jessica grabbed the phone we’d stolen from Meg. “Like… three more.”

I pressed my lips together. “Not terrible.” As I collapsed against the water tank, I found myself praying for the first time. Not to Chuck, no that guy sucked. But praying more so to anyone that would listen. Maybe Castiel. Maybe the one in my head. It didn’t matter. I needed hope. That we would make it out of this thing alive.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

John was starting to get irritated with the man in front of him. While he respected the poor young chap trying to stand strong for his wife and baby girl, the same stubbornness was also the thing keeping them from saving the little girl and his wife.

“Leave now, or I call the police.” Like he was the one holding the gun.

John almost rolled his eyes. “You can. But after we save your wife and daughter.”

“My wife and daughter are safe without you in our doorway with a gun.”

The clock indicated that it was almost a minute to midnight. “Move.” He easily shoved past the man and marched up the stairs.

“Hey! No! Stop!” the man yelled. “MONICA! TAKE THE BABY AND RUN!”

“Don’t you dare go into that nursery!” John yelled.

But by the time he made it to the nursery, Azazel was already there, hovering over the baby’s crib. And Monica was staring right at him, too frightened to move.

“Hello, John.” Azazel sneered. He raised his arm and blood started to drip.

That seemed to snap something in Monica. “No! Leave my baby alone!” and she lunged to shield the infant girl. John raised the false gun that he’d prepared. It was identical to the Colt, and Azazel’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. He wasn’t going to take the risk. And Azazel disappeared.

“Monica! Rosie!” the man behind John screamed as the nursery burst into flames.

“Take her and go!” John pushed the man forwards. The man looked shakily at his wife who was sobbing. “Go!”

“No, my baby! My baby!” the woman screamed.

John took the little girl up in his arms. “I got the kid. Let’s go.”

The husband and wife duo looked at him fearfully. Were they dumb? “Run!” John barked. And he pushed his way through the couple. Fine. If they were going to be frozen in fear and die, then so be it. The little girl didn’t deserve to die just because her parents were idiots.

He ran out of the house and clutched the infant close to his chest.

He stared at the burning house as it brought back memories. Of him, Dean, and Sam running out. Dean had been four. Sam had been 6 months. And Mary… his throat closed up. He had never managed to save Mary. he clutched the girl a little tighter. The weight was reminiscent of Sam in his arms, wailing and screaming in the middle of the night. Crying for a mother that would never hear him again. Because she had died. Because John had failed to save her. He leaned against his truck. Not the Chevy Impala that Dean had named Baby. But just his truck.

“Rosie, oh, Rosie!”

John looked up as the mother of the little girl held out her arms for the girl. Right… this girl wasn’t Sam. But how he wished she was. That the woman reaching out for the little baby was Mary instead. That the man that stood just behind the woman was a four year old Dean. he’d failed his family in every sense of the word.

He pushed himself off the cool metal of his truck and once again he was hit with what he wished it would have been. Him pushing off the Impala with a crying Sammy in his arms, and Mary and Dean doing their best to calm the little boy even as their house burned down. Because even with everything gone. They would still have had their family.

“Thank you.” John was snapped back to reality at the land of a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much.” He was pulled into the arms of a thin wiry frame. “I don’t know how to thank you.” The man in front of him was crying.

And soon a woman was howling through tears as well. “It’s gone! It’s all gone!” she cried.

“No.” John found himself saying. “It’s not all gone.” He looked at the small family crying in each other’s arms. “You still have each other.”

And John wrenched the door of his truck open. He hadn’t lost everything yet either.

 

Dean looked to his right. Sam’s face was pale, gripping the phone. It had been two hours since they’d gotten off of the conversation with the women. And they’d sounded fine.

No, not really. That was a lie. Jessica’s voice had been pained, like she’d been punched in the stomach and face, but she had otherwise sounded fine. Sharon's breathing, though, had been labored no matter how steady she kept her voice. Her ribs were definitely broken. And he’d heard her dragging her feet across the floor. Probably a busted ankle. Sam had noticed too. But bless his heart, he’d kept his mouth shut to keep himself from frightening Jess, and to not remind Sharon that she was just as breakable as the rest of them. Sometimes he wondered if she ever dissociated and considered herself as the character in a show.

Dean tightened his grip around Baby’s wheel and set his jaw tight to keep himself from punching something. He leaned harder on the accelerator. The speedometer read 100. He knew he could go faster. He knew Baby could go faster.

Sam, for once in their miserable lives, wasn’t complaining about him driving twice over the speed limit.

Dean, motivated by his brother’s silence, pressed a little harder. Baby was now doing 120 miles per hour. But still, it wasn’t enough. This was life or death. Meg wanted the colt. And she’d given them till dawn– three hours according to the last time he’d checked his phone. He could still hear Sharon’s bones cracking as Meg had laughed into the phone.

A truck appeared in his vision. “Son of a bitch.” He swerved into the left lane. The truck honked loudly behind him and flipped them off. Sam wasted no time in rolling down his own window and flipping them back. Dean almost smirked. He didn’t know Sammy had it in him.

They weren’t slowing down. Not for anything. Not for anyone.

 

1st Person P.O.V.

“Holy fuck. More demons?” Jessica said as she peered from behind the water tank.

“What?” I hissed and joined her. And sure enough. There they were, smoking on the rooftop. Their eyes were beady black, with the sclera gone. God fucking dammit.

“So…” Jessica started.

“What?” I asked.

“Do you think they have guns on them?”

I caught the glint of moonlight on something under their jacket. “Most likely. Why?”

“Well… if they have guns then it doesn’t really matter if we’re in holy water, right?” Jessica raised an eyebrow.

I groaned. Ugh. How could I not have seen it from that angle?! I blamed the throbbing in my head. “Okay so what do we do?”

“We break the tank.”

“Uh… how do we do that…?”

She ran her hands over the tank. “This material should be breakable by a gun, no?”

“Uh. Could be based on the kind of bullets. But why should we break the…” I realised that the roof we were on had raised edges. “Girl you’re a genius.”

I counted the number of water tanks on the roof. “Enough gallons and we can fill this place up.” Jessica grinned. “Think you can hold down three… no four demons? I can shoot the tanks.”

I inhaled sharply. It would take a lot of concentration. A lot of bleeding and a lot of headache. But yeah. It should be possible. “Yeah, sure.” Besides, we were dead meat as soon as the demons realised what was going on anyway.

“Hey!” I yelled.

The demons turned to look at me and they grinned. Oh well. Here went nothing. I focused on all four of the bastards and sent them slamming into the concrete pillars on the rooftop. One missed the wall and went plummeting twenty feet below. Oops.

The demons were yelling things I didn’t really care too much to listen for.

I clapped a hand over my nose as I felt my breathing almost stop with how much blood I was oozing. My head burned from the pain and the world was spinning. But I wasn’t done yet.

“Jessica!” I grunted. I forced my eyes on the three demons still under my grasp even as my vision started going white. The demons kept struggling, kept fighting. And it took too much strength to stay awake. “Shit!” I gasped when one of them managed to break free. That particular one ran for me and slammed me onto the ground. Something broke. It felt like my back. And screams tore through the night.

My body burned red hot from the pain.

Bang.

Until it didn’t. Cold water seeped into my back and suddenly it was the demons screaming with me. I forced my eyes open as the demons jumped around like monkeys, doing everything to avoid the water that was pooling along the roof.

Insane work, Jessica. Just in time. A few more gunshots rang out along with a few more panicked demon screams. I almost laughed at the sight of the demons prancing about.

“Hey, hey.” Someone was soon helping me sit up. But pain shot up my back again.

“Fuck.” I grimaced.

“The boys will be here soon.” Jessica. It was Jessica holding me up. Her long fingers pinched my nose. “Just a little bleeding. Nothing too bad.” But her voice was trembling.

My body was starting to go numb. From the cold? From the pain? More adrenaline? I didn’t know. But sleeping felt like a good idea. “No, no, no. Stay awake for me.” Cold hands tapped my cheeks.

I frowned. “No.”

“Sh-should I call 911?”

My ears rang with each word. “No.”

“Sharon. You need help.”

“No.” What I needed was silence. And sleep. I tried to close my eyes again. But another tap to my cheeks had me scowling at the bright blue eyes above me. “No.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“There you are~”

Fucking Meg.

And then Jessica held me tighter. “She has a gun.” she whispered to me. “What do I do?”

Ugh. The shifting in her arms made my head hurt even more. I just wanted it to stop.

“Tired, little one?” Meg cooed. “Are hubby and boyfie not driving fast enough?”

Oh no one insulted my Dean.

“Sharon. No. You can’t stand up.” Jessica’s hands were pleading as she grabbed at me to pull me down.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes. I was fine. My body was numb but I remembered how to move it. And it wasn’t like I didn’t walk around when I had migraines.

“Don’t you look like a mess.” Meg smiled. “Holy water…” She stood on the raised edge and dipped a finger into the makeshift pool of holy water. “Worked great for those idiots.”

“Fuck you.” I shoved my middle finger in her face and willed her off the edge. Her body went crashing to the ground. But she had other plans. She lifted a hand even as blood pooled below her head on cracked concrete for the second time. And a bullet came piercing through my chest.

Well, fuck me.

 

3rd Person P.O.V.

John wasn’t prepared for the call that came at 7:00 AM in the morning.

“Dad.” Sam’s voice was frantic. “She’s– she’s dead.”

Chapter 28: In Her Time of Death

Summary:

"“I think she knows already.”
She?
John stiffened when he saw her. Standing right there, between him and the demon. With her thick hair falling down to her waist and her silver ring catching the muted light of the basement. He couldn’t see her face, but he would recognise that voice anywhere."

Notes:

SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST SEASON 2. I had so many ideas and had to keep writing and rewriting and whatnot cause it wasn't perfect imo. T_T

Jess wasn’t sure what to make of it. Her wounds were completely healed. Not a bruise from the demon’s punch, no aching muscles or bones, no nothing. Hell she felt better than she ever had. Or she would have if her mind wasn’t a complete mess. It felt as if she said a word, then the world would come crashing down.

Dean had gone silent ages ago. His breaths remained shaky and his eyes were still red, but he was silent. He’d been silent since being threatened by the doctors and nurses to have security called on him.

Sam was next to her on the hospital couch that extended into a bed, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, tears still slipping down his cheeks every now and then.

His dad was on his other side, hunched over with his hands clasped together. This man, on the other hand, had glared at the nurses, doctors, and security personnel so hard that he’d been allowed into the room even when the visitors’ limit was three people.

But that wasn’t what had her confused. It was the fact that there were two Sharons. One on the hospital bed, the one everyone and her included was crying over. And another running her hands through Dean’s hair as she sat on the arm of his chair.

It made no sense. How were there two of her one sister in law?

“I’m gonna go get coffee.” John was the first to stand up and leave the room after hours of everyone begging Sharon to wake up.

A few moments later, Sam got up too and walked over to where Dean was. “Dean?” Even his voice was shaking.

Dean just looked up without a word. “You should get some sleep.”

The older brother just blinked and turned his attention back on his wife. “No.”

“Come on Dean.” Sam’s hand brushed over his shoulder. “You’ve been sitting there for hours. Hell, just go take a piss.” He wasn’t even trying to talk in the polite way he forced himself to in front of her. Jessica took in a breath, trying to breathe in despite the blockage in her nose. A part of her had appreciated the effort a long time ago. But now she just wanted him to be him.

“No.” was the curt response.

They were just like each other, Jessica noted. Sharon had been stubborn and saying ‘no’ just like Dean was.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Sam said gently. “She’ll be here.”

“No.” Dean shook his head stubbornly. “Those white coated motherfuckers asked if she had a DNR . Who’s to say they’ll just– just let her–” he never managed to finish the sentence before he covered his face with his hands and shook.

“I won’t let that happen to her.” Sam knelt in front of his brother. “She’s my sister. I’m not letting go of her that easily.”

Jess called bullshit on that. Sam had been the silent advocate all along, wanting to let Sharon’s body finally rest without the million machines forcing it to work. But he’d caved at the sight of his brother holding onto the faintest hope that she might be able to make it back. And silently, Jess had been cheering too when Sam had given up for the time being. Because Sharon was standing right there, smiling sadly at the sight in front of her. Or she was until a ghostly creature reached out to grab her hand and tug her out of the room.

Jess didn’t even have to leave the room to hear the conversation. It was like they thought… no… knew that no one would be able to hear them. Except for Sharon. Her gaze lingered on Jess just a second longer than it did for the others in the room surrounding her dead body.

 

Sharon finally turned around to talk to the floating wispy figure. “You’re a reaper.” She noted. “Could you, like, become something more… human like? I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.” The irony of the situation was real.

“Yes.” the creature morphed into a beautiful woman. She smiled. “You really love your jokes.”

Sharon shrugged. “What can I say?”

“I’m Tessa.”

“Sharon. And before you ask me. No, I’m not ready to leave yet.”

Tessa’s smile faltered. “Why not?”

“I have to make sure they’re okay.”

Even in death, she was more worried about the rest of them.

“They will be alright.”

“I know, but I need to see it. I assume I’m going to Heaven since you’re here?”

“Yes…” Tessa nodded slowly. “How long do you want?”

“I don’t know… a couple of days? I will go up to Heaven when I’m ready.”

Tessa sighed. “It’s really not ideal. The longer souls stay in the Veil, the higher the probability of them becoming corrupted.”

Sharon raised an eyebrow. “Oh you can’t corrupt me more than I already have been. I’ve already planted the seeds of the omegaverse.”

Tessa tilted her head in confusion. Jess tried to keep her face straight despite her confusion too. What was she talking about?

“What?” Tessa asked.

Sharon shrugged. “Oh, really bad stuff. You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh really?”

“Mpreg.”

“What?”

“Male pregnancies.”

Jess and Tessa both blinked in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah. Alpha, beta, omega dynamics. Alphas can impregnate any omega they want. Betas are like the regular people. Oh the number of omegaverses I read was criminal. You want the visuals? The men give birth and we’ve got this whole anatomy process–”

“Oh uh okay.” Tessa finally cut in. “How about… I come in tomorrow?” She forced a smile. “We can see how you’re feeling then.”

“Awesome.” Sharon grinned and waved off the reaper who dissolved back into the air.

 

Sharon’s spirit, or ghost, or whatever she was right now, sat next to her, crossing and uncrossing her legs every now and then. It looked like she was trying to say something. But Jess wasn’t sure if this was just a figment of her imagination, or if she truly was Sharon herself… not in the flesh.

“Keep an eye on Sam and Dean.” Sharon finally said. “You’re probably confused as to why you’re the only one that can see me. And honestly? I don’t know why you can see me. I’m assuming it has to do with the fact that Mx. Angel isn’t yapping about why I died before he– sorry they could find a better vessel.” Jess had no idea what she was talking about. “Welp, the Angel won’t let you mention them either, so like… yeah. There’s that.” She sighed. “As for me… I’m just a soul right now. Everyone has a soul, and sometimes the soul gets separated from the body. Special circumstances. I guess being brain dead is one of them. I should be going to Heaven, that’s what you saw earlier. Tessa the reaper is here to take me to Heaven. Honestly, I thought I would be going to Hell.” Her laugh was bitter. “But as it turns out even a damned soul like me is going to Heaven.” Damned soul? “And I’ll go, but there’s something I need to make sure of first…” Sharon’s ‘soul’ walked over to Dean and Sam and she squeezed Sam’s shoulder. As if Sam could sense his sister next to him, he leaned into the touch. “See, the Winchester men have a strange habit. They keep sacrificing themselves for each other.” Sam was pleading with Dean again, to take a break. “And I’m trynna stop that.” Sharon’s big black eyes met hers. “So, I know this is a lot.” Sharon looked like she was going to cry. “But keep an eye on these two idiots, yeah? I’ve got a stupid father in law to watch.” And with that, her soul vanished with a poof.

Jess didn’t know what to make of it. Souls? Heaven? Hell? All those were real? More importantly an Angel was in her head? What the actual fuck?

“Dean– Dean please.” Sam was begging again.

“Alright, fine.” Dean finally snapped. “You want me to go take a shit trip?” The shorter but still large brother dragged his feet into the bathroom that was right behind him. The fact that Dean wouldn’t even move a foot away from Sharon made Jess’ heart ache.

“Jess.” she looked up when Sam said her name. “What do I do?” Sam’s voice shook.

Jess held out her arms and motioned for Sam to come to her. If she spoke then she was afraid she would break down even worse than any of the men in the room. And then Sharon’s soul would be dealing with not just three but four sobbing people.

Sam just buried his face in her shoulder and cried. She held him tight. It could have been her on the bed. But she wasn’t. Because for the second time that year since she’d met the woman, Sharon had saved her again. At the price of her life this time.

 

John Winchester had a daughter to save. And, due to circumstances, a son as well. John knew better than anyone what it felt like to lose someone. Hell, he’d lost Mary so many years ago and he was still grieving her death. It had consumed him until he’d turned the grief into rage and then let it burn what was left of him till even the ashes had burnt.

And now he could see Dean going down the same path. When he thought that everyone else was sleeping, he would reach out to brush his hand over her hair and kiss her forehead, only to whisper to her that he was going to kill the motherfucking bitch that had done this to her.

He’d ruined his older son’s life, he saw it now. He saw it a little too late. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and set it right.

He grabbed the supplies from his truck and sighed. How many years would he get? Would he even get any years? His fingers curled around the Colt. The metal was cold, but it instantly warmed in his hands. Maybe with this… he would be able to save his kids without even needing to give up his life. He’d found the Colt before, he could do it again. He slammed the false back of his truck shut and headed to the boiler room in the basement of the hospital. He dodged hospital staff like he’d done so many times before and made his way to the one place where no staff would come into unless it was an emergency.

He drew the symbol required with the chalk. His hands trembled as he gripped the chalk, and sweat from his palms made the chalk dust stick to his skin even more than normal. He’d never been this nervous before when drawing symbols. And yet, as if his hand was being guided by some invisible force, the symbol was drawn with completely straight lines and perfect circles.

He reached for the candles next, placing them slowly and precariously as instructed in Sharon’s screen device, iPad as she’d called it– or was it her iPhone? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. What he did know was that she was a genius for digitizing most of Bobby’s lore books. There were several notes scribbled onto the sides, detailing translations, with frowny faces in some places and bright suns she’d drawn into corners of the digital scans of the pages. There was even colour added to it, the candles glowing bright on the blindingly bright screen in the darkness of the basement. He lit up the candles, but even then they didn’t compare to the glare of the screen encased in fading purple.

Then he placed the black bowl in the center, completing the perfect summoning ritual. To summon Azazel.

He was doing this for Dean. For Sharon. He told himself. He flicked his pocket knife and the blade slid out easily from its oiled sheath. The blade was sharper than the day he got it, and somehow even more intimidating than ever.

Again. This was for his kids. He reminded himself. For Dean, for Sam, for Sharon, and maybe even for Jessica. He hadn’t even met his future youngest daughter-in-law’s parents yet. He let out a humorless laugh. He was failing as a father once again.

He dragged the blade across his palm, and let the blood drip into the mixture in the black bowl. And then was the chant. He forced his voice to be steady, speaking slowly and enunciating each Latin word with precision.

Once he finished the incantation, a hand landed on his shoulder. His muscles tensed.

“What the hell are you doing down here, buddy?” It was a man’s voice.

Excuses started running through his head. Or they would have if he didn’t recognise the voice. “I can explain.”

“Yeah? You're going to explain to security. Come on. You follow me.”

John cocked the Colt and raised it to the new man’s forehead. “How stupid do you think I am?”

The man– no, demon– his eyes glowed. Yellow. Yellow like the fire that had consumed Mary and life as he used to know it. “You really want an honest answer to that?” Two more men appeared out of nowhere, and now John was surrounded. “You conjuring me, John. I'm surprised. I took you for a lot of things. But suicidally reckless wasn't one of them.”

John didn’t falter. “I could always shoot you.”

“You could always miss.” the demon laughed. “And you've only got one try, don'tcha? Did you really think you could trap me?”

“Oh, I don't want to trap you.” He lowered the gun. Killing the demon wasn’t his goal today. Not today. His goal was to save his kids. “I want to make a deal.”

 

Dean wasn’t feeling anything. But he was feeling everything at the same time. Nothing about Sharon on the bed had changed. Her heart rate was the same, her breathing was the same, the beeping of the monitors was the same, and her lack of movement was also the same. Yet, it felt like her presence had shifted. Like she’d left him. His eyes watered but he shoved them out of the way. If– no– when she woke up, he was going to greet her with a kiss. Whisper to her ‘good morning sweetheart’ like he’d done so often for the past three years.

Sam was a little less nagging now that he’d practically forced his jaw open to pour water down his throat. He’d gone right back to Jess after the tiniest hint of a smile of triumph, and Jess was cradling him close on the hard couch, both of them biting down on their lip every time it quivered.

Jess’ parents were coming over at some point, weren’t they? Dean hadn’t exactly met them last time. Yeah, they’d said hi and all that, but it had never been a formal meeting. He supposed, as Sam’s pseudo guardian, he should at least make an effort to know their names. Maybe he would even gauge how comfortable they were going to be with Sam asking for Jess’ hand in marriage. Would he also get an invite? Obviously. He was going to be Sam’s best man. And Sharon would be his plus one, dressed in something that covered her knees for once, and with her arms and legs shaved and her face threaded to look absolutely perfect. And when he would take her to the dance floor after Sam’s and Jess’ first dance, he would kiss her so that her pink lipstick stained his and they would laugh at how awkward but happy Sam and Jess looked.

Yeah. That was his goal for the next few years. Maybe he should start working on that best man speech. Would Sharon take on any roles at the wedding? Maybe flower girl. He almost snickered at the thought of her throwing petals down the aisle surrounded by several other little girls.

Actually, maybe the sight wouldn’t be too bad. He knew she liked kids. And even though he refused to admit it, he did too. He’d pretty much raised Sammy, and while it had been annoying, it had been rewarding. He would ask her when she woke up, if she wanted any little ones. Like seriously this time, not just a joke as they drove, not just something said in passing while they were too sleepy to think straight.

Yeah, all those sounded like good ideas. Once Sharon woke up, he would tell her all about it. And she would hum another little tune, because he was pretty sure that was also the name of a song she liked.

So why did it feel like she was never going to?

 

“It's very unseemly, making deals with devils. How do I know this isn't just another trick?”

John looked at the demon in his glowing eyes. “It's no trick. I will give you the Colt and the bullet, but you've got to help Sharon. You've got to bring her back.”

“Why, John, you're a sentimentalist. Is this for Dean?” It took every ounce of strength from John to not shoot the demon between the eyes. “If only your boys knew how much their daddy loved them.”

“It's a good trade. You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do her.”

“Don't be so sure. She killed some people very special to me. But still, you're right, she, and Dean, aren’t much of a threat. And neither is your other son.” the demon sighed. “You know the truth, right? About Sammy? And the other children?”

“Yeah. I've known for a while.”

“But Sam doesn't, does he? You've been playing dumb.” For some reason, John felt like he wasn’t the only one that was meant for.

“Can you bring her back? Yes or no?”

“No.” John raised the Colt again. “But I know someone who can.” the demon smiled. “It's not a problem.”

John lowered the Colt yet again. “Good. Before I give you the gun, I'm going to want to make sure that they’re okay. With my own eyes.”

The demon gasped dramatically. “Oh, John, I'm offended. Don't you trust me?”

Why was that even a question. John shook his head. “Fine. So do we have a deal?”

“No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot.”

“With what?”

“There's something else I want, as much as that gun. Maybe more.”

“What do you want?” Whatever this demon wanted, he was going to get it.

“I think she knows already.”

She?

John stiffened when he saw her. Standing right there, between him and the demon. With her thick hair falling down to her waist and her silver ring catching the muted light of the basement. He couldn’t see her face, but he would recognise that voice anywhere.

“You leave the Winchester family alone. And you’ll have what you really want.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.” John breathed.

“I am.” was the short response.

“The Colt stays with me.” the demon demanded.

“Yeah, sure.”

“And you go to Hell.”

“Works for me.”

John’s throat tightened. What?

She stepped closer to the demon. “You promise to leave the Winchesters, the Moores, Bobby, and all of Sioux Falls alone.”

“That’s asking a lot.” the demon laughed.

“Then no deal.”

“John seems too eager to strike one.”

She finally turned around to face him. Her face was calm, too calm. It was the face she forced on when the family was breaking and she had to keep them all together from clawing each others’ throats out. “Back off.” she said to him.

“No.” John wasn’t going to start taking orders from her.

She raised a hand and John went flying into a wall. He gasped as the wind got knocked out of him. He struggled to breathe, and whatever she was doing was keeping him from talking. “He’s not striking any deals like that.”

“Smart girl.” the demon whistled. “You know how to weed out the competition.”

“So deal or no deal?”

“Let’s go over the terms one more time…”

“Leave the Winchesters, the Moores, Bobby, and all of Sioux Falls alone. You and your people. Leave. Them. Alone. Whatever they do, don’t interfere. And don’t you, or your minions, even think of making a deal with any of them.”

“Oh but dear there’s so many of those families– And what do we do if they come for me ? You can’t tell me to just sit back and watch, surely?”

“You know very well what I’m talking about. I’m not even asking you to protect them or anything. Just to never lay a finger on them. They’re just a bunch of puny humans, am I right? Without the Colt, they can’t do anything.”

“Smart little negotiator…” The demon’s grin widened. “And I get you… and the Colt?”

“Go for it.”

No. John wanted to scream. He wanted to grab her and shake her till she got the sense knocked back into her.

“I’m gonna be a little generous.” the demon chuckled. “I’ll give you thirty minutes with your tiny little insignificant family.”

No. No. That wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted her to live out the rest of her life with Dean. He didn’t want his son dealing with the pain of having his wife ripped out of his life. Not after their mother. And Sammy– Sammy would be devastated. He had looked so happy when Sharon had shown up, following her like a puppy with his textbooks open because she was the only one that seemed to support his passion for learning.

He still thought it was useless. His kids should be learning about how to stay alive, about how to live in this cruel world. But he couldn’t disregard the way both his boys’ eyes lit up when she dragged them into the more mundane things of life, complained about her day while she stitched them like human pincushions. And he enjoyed them too. He liked it when she would throw a ball of yarn at him and tell him to untangle it for her. He loved it when she treated celebratory dates loosely, unlike his sons who threw tantrums if he made it back three days after Thanksgiving or got stuck in a storm on the way back on Christmas. There would always be something waiting for him when he stopped by Bobby’s, or placed on the nightstand when they were cooped up in motel rooms.

“Sounds like a terrible idea. But I’m selfish as fuck. So I’ll take it.”

John looked on in horror as the demon’s nasty lips covered Sharon’s in a one sided heated kiss. She stood there stiffly with her arms balled up at her sides. But the demon, the monster, was taking his time, and enjoying every moment. He only pulled away when Sharon slammed her foot into his knee, sending the creature stumbling.

And John gasped for breath as he fell to the floor and everyone else in front of him disappeared. Along with the Colt.

 

Dean wasn’t even paying attention to what the doctor was saying. Sam was, Jess was, and that was enough for him. He focused on his wife, and his wife alone. A thread of hair got blown into the crease of her eyes because of the AC, and he brushed it aside.

It twitched.

Dean leaned closer. Her eyelid. It twitched again. Before finally fluttering open. “Sweetheart?” he whispered, carefully. Everyone stopped talking and snapped their heads to the woman on the bed. Like she would break if they moved too much or talked too loud.

And her lovely little eyes stared back at him .

His heart got caught in his throat. “Guys, she’s awake.”

“It can’t be.” the doctor shook his head. “She’s brain… dead…” the doctor’s eyes widened when her head shifted to frown at him. “Oh my God, she’s awake.” The doctor rushed to her side.

Dean scowled but let the man do his thing. The doctor shone a light into her eyes that made her squint and leaned over to check some weird things on the monitor.

Dean forced himself to not punch the doctor right then and there. Sharon was awake. And once the doctor was done with his doctor stuff, he would be able to hold and kiss her again, for the rest of his life.

The doctor and the nurses worked together to remove that stupid tube from her throat, and she gasped and choked when it disappeared.

“We’ll give you guys a minute.” one of the nurses said and the medical staff left the room.

Dean was immediately at her side, cradling her head and rubbing her back. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart.” He felt the most joy he’d ever felt in his life when she leaned against him and clutched at his shirt. “I got you. I got you, baby. You’re okay.” He kept whispering to her as he knelt on her bed.

She scratched at her throat and Sammy was ready with a glass of water. Dean tilted her head back and Sam helped her gulp down the water.

“Hey,” Jess was the first to ask. “How are you?”

“Been better.” was her rough answer.

“Wanna eat something?” Sam produced a granola bar from his pockets. Chocolate flavored, the only kind she actually ate.

“Sam, I don’t think she can.” Jess said gently.

Sharon cracked a smile. “Yeah.” She ducked her face into Dean’s chest and he felt her relax in his hold. So he held her tighter.

“Thought you were dead.” he whispered. Damn, his throat was closing up.

She just smiled back, sadly. And Dean’s heart sank. But she was here, wasn’t she? And nothing was going to get her unless it went through him, Sam, and Dad. right? He would die before he let anything happen to her. Again.

“Thank you. Again.” Jess whimpered, finally breaking down. “For saving me. Every single time–” she gripped Sam’s hand like a lifeline. “Thank you–!” she gasped and Sam wrapped an arm around her, tears streaming down his face too.

“Yeah.” Sam managed to choke out. He sat down with Jess on the other side of the bed and took hold of his sister’s hand. “We’ve got you. So you just need to rest. Alright?”

“Wait.” Sharon suddenly lifted her head off of Dean’s chest. He tightened his grip on her waist at the loss of contact. “There’s so many things I need to tell y’all–”

“Sharon.” came a booming voice. Dean, Sam, and Jess looked up to see a panting John Winchester leaning heavily on the door of the room. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he held himself back.

“John.” Sharon’s voice was so small.

Dean glared at his Dad. “Dad. Not the time.” He pulled her back against him. He was going to protect her this time. Never let her out of his sight. And he would even fight his Dad if he had to.

“Dean.” his heart stopped at the way she said his name. “Dean, can you get me some coffee?”

“No.” was the immediate answer. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Sammy can get it.”

Sharon forced a smile. “I want you to get it.”

Dean didn’t like how her eyes darted to the clock. “No.”

“Please?” And she gave him that big doe eyed look that made him crumble. But not today.

“Absolutely not.”

“We’ll get it.” Sam swiped at his nose and sniffled. “We’ll get some for all of us.” He nudged a shaking Jess and she stumbled after him out of the room.

“I’m not leaving.” Dean reminded her, and she nodded.

John turned back at his eldest kids. It took him everything to not break down at the sight. The two of them clung onto each other, as if soaking in each other’s everything because they knew this moment wouldn’t last. He glanced at the clock.

Again, Dean noted. Both Sharon and John kept looking at the clock in the room. “What is it?” he finally asked. “What happened?”

“She made a deal with the devil.”

“Huh?” Dean was confused. “What is that supposed to mean?” deep down he knew.

“She sold her soul.” John gritted out. “She sold it to Azazel.”

Dean looked down at the tiny woman in his arms with nothing but shock. Her? Sell her soul? Goody two shoes Sharon who returned stolen items to the police station? His sweet Sharon who hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in her near three decades of life? His lovely Sharon who had never had sex until she married him at age 24? That one? “Bullshit.”

“I wish it was, son.” His dad looked broken.

“It’s true, Dean.” he hadn’t expected her to confess to it.

His throat felt tighter than it had when she’d been declared brain dead. “No.” He took a couple of deep breaths. He had to get things straight. “So what happens now? I-I mean the demon wanted something, right?”

“Thirty minutes.” was his Dad’s reply. “She goes to Hell in thirty minutes. That was the deal.”

“And what did you want?” He had a feeling he knew what she had asked for.

She leaned up to kiss him. But for once in his life he didn’t return it. She pulled back. “For you all to be safe.”

“ Safe ?” he couldn’t believe his ears. “Safe from what ?”

“From him .” Sharon was tearing up now. “From Azazel. Dean, you, Sammy, Jess, John– you guys can have a life . Without the demons ever interfering again.”

He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll leave you kids alone.” His Dad said sadly. Dean looked up as the man left the room, sliding the door close behind him.

“Dean, please.” He looked back down at the only woman who had shown him unconditional love. “Promise me you’ll live a happier life.” He kissed her instead. All tongue, all teeth, nothing else in between. She whimpered into his mouth and her body shook as he felt her tears on the pads of his fingers. This woman– this woman that had ruined him into a mushy chick flick mess– was now telling him she was going to disappear from his life, and go to Hell. He pulled back to let her breathe.

She took a deep breath before coming for him again. She opened her eyes as she glanced at the clock. And Dean glanced there too. Thirty more seconds.

He could see the gears in her head turning as she counted in her head.

Not a countdown so they could time their climax. Not a countdown so he could get his pie straight from the oven.

He kissed her harder. She was his. And he wasn’t going to let her forget that. He clenched her hand that had her wedding band on. The silver was cold against his skin, but her palms felt colder.

She pulled away at the literal last second, and his breath caught when she whispered “I love you.”

And the monitor flatlined.

 

“Code Blue. Code Blue.” Sam sighed at another announcement. But he listened for the room number anyway. Just in case. His own heart stopped.

That number. Sharon’s room number.

Jess broke into a run.

Sam followed.

The coffee cups fell to the floor, and staff yelled at them to stop and slow down. But he couldn’t. Jess made it first.

“DNR. The husband signed a DNR.” repeated a nurse.

“In that case… Time of death. 4:44 PM.”

“Please– that’s my sister!” She cried, trying to push past the flock of nurses trying to keep her outside.

“Jess.” Dad’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “She’s gone.”

“They’re not even resuscitating her!” His girlfriend screamed. “Tell them to do something!” Her bright blue eyes looked at him. “Sam! They’re not– they’re not doing anything–”

“She’s gone.” Dad repeated again. And walked off. He walked off .

What was that supposed to mean? Gone? “Dean?” And why wasn’t Dean doing anything? “Did you really–”

“I signed her DNR.” Dean wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“Why?” Sam demanded. “ Why ?” He hissed. “She came back! She could have come back again! We– we could have done something ! A-a spell or-or I don’t know turn her into a vampire– She could have lived .”

“Enough, Sam!” Dean yelled. “She’s gone. What part of it do you not understand?! You were the one that told me to just let her go when she was declared braindead. You fought for the DNR then. So what changed ?!”

Dean was finally looking at him. His green eyes that were usually calm and full of unfiltered mischief were clouded with anger. Sam swallowed.

Dean forced himself to breathe. “She’s gone. Alright? That’s just it. She’s gone.” And he walked off too.

Jess was curled up on the floor, sobbing.

Sam stood in the doorway as the nurses started… post mortem care. He’d been ready to let go the first time. But after seeing her alive and smiling like always, he’d regained hope. And now she was dead again.

Forever.

Notes:

Resources Used:
https://transcripts.foreverdreaming.org/viewtopic.php?t=6583
There's a song that Dean thinks about at some point in the story. It's Tell My Momma About You by KARD. I'm still mad they canceled their concert after hyping it up for a year and I was supposed to go but oh well.
ALSO GUYS I PASSED O CHEM. I PASSED THIS STUPID EXAM. HOW. I'm on track to making a B now yayyy. Just gotta get an 80 on the next three exams... hahahahahahahahahaha.

Chapter 29: Everybody Lives

Summary:

"He squeezed his eyes shut. It had been two months already. And the woman he was currently chasing was nothing like her so why was he still thinking of her?"

Notes:

Sorry for the late update. Been a bit busy. assignments, hw, exams, mental health crisis...
Anyways enjoy yall.

“It was a Rakshasa.” John said into the phone. “Dressed as a clown to kill kids.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam hummed from his side. Everything was quiet for a minute. “How’s Dean?”

John glanced at the figure on the motel bed. “Passed out drunk.” He could hear Sam sigh. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine. Jess is struggling a little at work. But… she’s doing fine too.”

“Good.” Silence fell over them again.

Dean shifted in his bed and John turned back. “I’ll call you later, Sammy.”

“Yeah, later, Dad.”

Dean reached out onto the other side of the bed, as if looking for someone, only for realisation to dawn over his glossed over eyes. “Fuck.” he cursed. And forced his legs over the edge of the bed. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hello, son.” He grimaced when Dean reached out for another bottle. “Maybe put that down. Go outside. Take a walk.” Just things that their resident therapist used to say.

Dean scoffed. “You’re gonna start caring now?”

John took a deep breath to keep himself from yelling at the boy to put the bottle down. “I thought you were gonna be driving today.” He settled on that instead. “To Bobby’s.”

His son clicked his tongue. “I don’t think I want to.”

“You can’t–” John ran a hand down his face. “Dean,” He tried. The boy didn’t even look up. “Son,” That at least made the kid flinch. “You can’t avoid this forever.”

“It’s just a bunch of funds. Bobby can handle them.”

“It’s your name on the will, Dean. Bobby can’t even open it.”

“Like he can’t forge my signature.”

“You need to be there in person.”

“I can’t . Alright? I can’t !” Dean yelled.

John kept himself from flinching. “You can, son. You have to. I did it when Mary- when Mary died–”

“It’s always about you.” Dean snarled. “It’s always about you– what you did when Mom died. How you felt when she burned! What about me?! I’m your son . The only person that ever cared for me and I ever cared for, is dead . And all you can do is compare my wife to yours?!”

“She was my daughter too!” John was fuming at this point. “And what do you mean by only person. Does your family mean nothing to you?!”

“You’re always pulling that family bullshit on me.” Dean heaved. “I gave up everything for this family. And what have you done? Huh? Just chase after some demon. And it was your fault she even went to make that deal. She could have passed on peacefully, but now she’s stuck in Hell. And it’s all your fault!”

A sharp slap rang out through the motel room. Dean raised his hand to his reddening face and John glowered. “Leave.”

“ What ?” Dean hissed.

“I said. Leave. If it’s all my fault, then leave.” John’s hand stung from the force of the smack. The red of his palms matched the red blooming on Dean’s paler than normal cheek.

“I will.” Dean muttered, and pushed past his father. He grabbed his bag and the keys to Baby, and left.

The motel room door slammed shut and John slumped back on the chair. This ugly temper of his. He’d lost one of his sons once. And now his daughter was gone. And he’d just chased away the one son that had stuck with him through thick and thin, like his obedient soldier.

He was miserable. Again. And this time, Dean wasn’t there to hold his shoulder and whisper “It’s gonna be okay, Dad.” Because he chased him away.

 

Sam was, once more, face to face with Dean’s shady figure in the middle of his and Jess’ apartment in California.

“What do you mean by you ran away?” Sam couldn’t believe his ears. “ You ran away from Dad?”

Dean shrugged. “He was being a bitch about things that don’t matter.”

“So-” Sam closed his eyes to calm himself down. “So you wanna crash here for a bit?”

“I was more interested in inviting you to join me again. In hunting.”

Sam shook his head. “Look, Dean. I can't. Alright? I just can’t.”

Dean huffed. “Why not? Look, I’ll let you drive Baby if you don’t put on hair rock in the car.”

“Okay, Dean, first of all. It’s not hair rock–”

“Shut it, bitch. You’re lying.”

“Never, jerk. Your taste in music sucks.”

The two brothers cracked a smile. “Alright, man.” Sam patted his brother’s back. “Why don’t you go and clean up a bit? Jess has got some work dinner thing so she’ll be here by 8:00.”

Dean groaned in relief when Sam took the heavy duffel from his shoulders. “You didn’t use up all the hot water did you?”

Sam laughed. “And don’t you use all the hot water or else Jess is gonna kick both our asses.”

 

Once Dean was out of the shower, he flopped onto the annoyingly soft couch and flicked through the channels on the TV.

Sam was in the kitchen, cooking up weeds and plants he could have found on the side of the road. ‘Organic’ Sam called them. Before paying double the price for something that tasted the same even if it were dandelions picked up from the side of the road for free.

He scoffed when Sam presented him with a sandwich with too much lettuce and the bare minimum meat. “Dude, do I look like a rabbit to you?”

“You look like someone who’s gonna go into liver failure.” Sam nodded towards the empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Dean shrugged. “Dean, this is gonna kill you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean craned his neck. “Do you not even have mayo in here? Or ketchup?”

“Dean. Listen to me.” Dean continued ignoring him. “Dean, this self destructive path isn’t gonna help anyone.”

Dean grinned when he found his savior in the fridge. “Aha!” He lifted the top piece of bread and drowned the sandwich in the white nectar. “Now this is a sandwich.” Sam cringed at the sight and Dean laughed in triumph. “So what’s your plan? Law school?”

Sam sighed as he gave up on making Dean talk. “Not yet. I need to finish up my degree plan. I didn’t technically graduate college, you know.”

“Oh yeah? And when’s that gonna happen?”

“Well. I already had enough credits to graduate. I just need my degree sent. Once I have that, I’m planning on going into social work. You know. Help out families. Help out people. I don’t think I can take the stress of law school. After… after all this. And it’s kind of expensive.”

“There’s always loans.”

“Dean, swallow before you talk.” Sam looked away as Dean gave him a grin through a mouthful of food. “Oh that’s disgusting.” He fake gagged. Dean swallowed and laughed. “I just don’t want Jess to feel the pressure of a loan on us. Especially with all of…” He motioned to him and Dean. “All of this. The supernatural things. You know?”

He did know. “How’s Jess?”

“Doing pretty good.” Sam cleared his throat. “But something’s wrong with her.”

“What?” Dean leaned forward. “Maybe she’s just… processing.”

“This isn’t that.” Sam glanced at the door and then the clock. “She’s been staring off into the distance. And sometimes, when she’s drunk enough… she tells me that there’s a voice in her head.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Maybe it all got to her.”

“Dude. She’s not crazy.” Sam frowned. “This is different. I’m telling you. It’s- it’s almost like when Sharon used to talk about the voice in her head.”

Dean flinched at the name. “Yeah, well. Some people just go crazy.”

“So–” Sam started thinking out loud. “What if whatever was in Sharon’s head is now in Jess’ head?”

“Like a demon jumping ship?”

Sam balled up a tissue and threw it at Dean. “Don’t call them ships. And no, it’s still Jess.”

“Maybe you need to take her to a hospital.”

“Dean, I’m serious over here. If I thought she was crazy then yeah I would have taken her. But no she’s not. You know what she told me last night?”

Dean placed his empty plate back down on the coffee table. “What?”

“She said she saw Sharon in the hospital.”

Dean clenched his fists. “I know man. We all saw her.”

“No, I mean saw her walking and talking. Even when she was in the bed.”

“Alright. Back up, Sammy. Are you drunk? You’re not making any sense. Man, I knew you were a lightweight but this takes the cake.”

“Jess said she saw Sharon’s soul.”

“Okay? Maybe she’s been going crazy since the whole thing. The doctors probably missed the concussion.”

“She couldn’t say anything else after that. It was like cat got her tongue. And no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the words out.” Sam’s hazel eyes were blown wide in panic. “I asked her to write it out, and she couldn’t . Dean, it’s the same thing. Whatever was in Sharon’s head is now in Jess’ and I-I don’t know what to do.”

Dean leaned back in disbelief. “I don’t know what’s going on either. Is she fine otherwise?”

“Yeah. Everything else is fine.”

Dean frowned. He knew that tone. “You’re not telling me something.”

“There’s nothing else.”

“No there is.” Dean grabbed his brother’s shoulder and forced him to look up. “I know that tone, Sammy. I’ve known you all your life. What is it?”

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. “I don’t know how to say this. But– her wounds, her scars– everything is gone. She’s, like, baby skin clean.”

Surely Sam was exaggerating. “Whatever skin cream she’s using, let me know. I’ve got this one nasty scar down my leg that scares the ladies–”

“I’m not kidding.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. “So if you’re not exaggerating, then what the fuck is going on? Actually, when were you gonna tell us about this?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up!”

Dean sighed and stood up. What the hell was going on? First the voice in the head. And now there was some magical healing shit going on? Man, his family was more fucked up than he’d originally thought. “This is crazy.”

“I was hoping… Dad would have answers.”

Dean stiffened. “I’m not talking to that man.”

“Jess’ life could be on the line.”

Dean shook his head. “You talk to him, then. I’m gonna go for a drive.”

Dean pulled the door open and stalked out, ignoring his brother’s cries for him to wait.

 

The local dive bar wasn’t bad. The bartenders were efficient. The guys playing pool looked rich. And the ladies at the club were throwing it back and getting down and dirty on the dance floor.

He nodded to the bartender as he took his drink and made his way over to a redhead dangling her bare shaved legs off her barstool. She immediately met his eyes and smiled, leaning forwards so her cleavage was on full display.

“Hey there.” she smiled.

Dean smiled back and took a seat next to her.

“You new to town?” Her voice rose in pitch. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Just moved in with my brother.” He could smell her sweet perfume when he leaned in closer. “You a local?”

“Oh you betcha.” She waved over one of the bartenders. “I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Nah.” Dean slid over a twenty. “My treat.”

The woman giggled. “What a gentleman.”

His breath hitched when the woman’s hand landed on his arm, tracing over every muscle under his jacket. “The Mrs. doesn’t treat you well?”

“Mrs.?” Dean finally realised he hadn’t switched over the ring to his other hand. The silver suddenly felt like it was burning into his skin. “Nah, she’s… she’s, uh, not present.”

“Oh you poor thing.” the woman on his arm cooed. Clearly she didn’t think too much of him being married. “My name’s Rachel.”

“Dean.”

“Cute name for a hot guy like you.” Her breasts were pressed against his arm now and her hands were tracing over his shoulders. “You work out a lot?”

Everyday. He hunted monsters. “You could say that.” he grabbed the glass that was slid over to him and took a shot. “What kinda work do you do–?” He’d almost said sweetheart. He used to throw around the pet name so much. But it felt like a taboo now.

“I’m a waitress.” the woman smiled. “What about you?”

“Mechanic.” The lies flowed so easily. “Well, I used to be. And then I moved. And… well, I’m still looking for a job–” God the woman’s lips were so close to his. “I guess.”

He could smell her perfume and the alcohol. Nothing like her. Nothing like the memories he had of cheap cherry blossom perfume and natural coconut oil. He kissed the woman moaning into him now. Right at the bar. The bartenders were rolling their eyes and someone in the corner was cheering.

This woman– what was her name again– was thin, so thin he could feel her hip bones under his palms and through her dress unlike her . He didn’t even have to lean over as much to reach her lips, unlike her . And the way she moaned into his mouth without any reserve was also unlike her . Her hair was a fiery red ending just at her shoulders, unlike her . He squeezed his eyes shut. It had been two months already. And the woman he was currently chasing was nothing like her so why was he still thinking of her?

His phone rang just then and he pulled back from the heated kiss. “One sec, sorry.” he apologised and picked it up. “Hey, this is Dean… Sammy?” His heart stopped. “What do you mean? She’s not back?” He checked his watch. Almost 9:15. “None of her coworkers know where she is…? She didn’t stop by somewhere, did she?” He stood up and muttered a quick apology to Raven – ‘Rachel!’ the woman shrieked and cursed at him. But he had more important matters to attend to. “Tell me where she last was.”

 

Baby skidded to a stop when he finally reached the restaurant where Jess had last been reported.

“Sam!” he called out to the young man standing next to a lifted truck. Their Dad’s truck. “Why’s he here?!”

His Dad leaned to the side to see him more clearly. “Can we not fight?” the older man pleaded. “It feels like that’s all we do these days.”

His Dad was right. The fights didn’t even make him feel any better. If anything it just made him want to scream till his throat ripped and drink till he passed out. Anything to stop her sweet words in his head and to drown out the aching need to hold her while he rested.

Dean Winchester was petty, but not enough to let his brother and his Dad look like they were going to burst into tears. “Fine. We can stop fighting.” He turned to Sam. “So what do we got?”

“Nothing.” Sam shook. “Just the bike outside.”

Jess had insisted on taking Sharon’s ride. The suspensions had been lowered to accommodate Jess’ longer legs, but everything else about it was still pristine. And no mud. Sharon would be proud. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Her friends said that she’d only had one beer.” Sam continued. “She doesn’t get drunk unless she’s had at least ten.” He gave a loving snort. “And she’s not the kind to leave a place by herself even if she is drunk.”

“Demons?” Dean proposed. “They’ve taken her once before.”

“Can’t be. Sharon made a deal.”

“But they’re demons. We can’t just trust them.”

His Dad shook his head. “I hate to admit it, son. But it’s true. They’re keeping up their end of the bargain. No demon activity has occurred anywhere around us. They’re leaving us alone.”

Sam sank to the ground. “Then where is Jess?”

“Can we track her location?”

Sam held up a phone. “Found it inside. It’s like she just got up, and left.” He jerked his head towards his Dad’s truck. “Dad’s got her bag.”

“The police are already looking. But they haven’t found anything either.” Their Dad noted. “And don’t worry, Sam and I did a sweep before they could even touch the place.”

“So we have nothing.” Dean clenched his fists at his side. “Alright.” he started pacing. “Eyewitness accounts. What are her friends saying?”

Sam ran a hand down his face. “Her friends said she got up to go to the restroom and just... never came back.”

Their Dad nodded. “We should check the back door. We retrace her steps. Sam, you said she had one beer? That means she was still sober, aware.”

Dean continued. “She was on foot too. What about security cameras?”

“None.” Sam answered.

“Let’s head to the back. See what we can find from there.” Their Dad led them past the police tape, hiding in the shadows of the establishment and dodging sight of the police.

“They’re too busy filing paperwork .” Sam scoffed.

“And that’s why we get paid the bigger bucks.” Dean joked.

They ducked behind a wall when a flashlight threatened to notify the police of their presence.

“Silence, boys.” Dad warned them once the light was gone.

The three of them continued down the alleyway behind the restaurant.

“Footprints.” The oldest Winchester grunted at the slight imprints on the dirt where the gravel ended.

Dean’s boots crunched over the final piece of gravel and stepped onto soft dirt. He crouched down and motioned Sam over. “That look like her shoe size?”

Sam placed his own boot next to the imprint and nodded. “That’s hers.”

They followed the trail, moving together in tense silence. The footprints took them past a row of dumpsters, down a side street that led toward a quiet, overgrown lot near an old auto shop.

Dean’s gut twisted. His Dad sighed next to him. “The footprints end here.”

Sam cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “Jess! Jess– if you can hear me—”

“Son.” Sam looked up when his father grabbed his shoulder.

Dean ran over to the blonde woman slumped behind a car, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He was shoved to the side by Sam, who grabbed his girlfriend’s shoulders. “Jess, Jess, hey, Jess, please. Please talk to me–” He raised his hands when his hands felt cold. Red liquid coated them, seeping into his jacket. “Dean, Dad, what do we do? Blood– there’s so much blood–”

Dean kept his voice steady for his brother. “Calm down, Sammy. It’s not hers. She’s not injured. Look.” Dean raised the hem of her top and Sam breathed in shakily. “See? Not hers.” Dean was right. Not a single scratch on her.

And then their Dad asked the million dollar question. “So if it’s not hers, then whose is it?”

 

Jess woke up gasping. Where was she? She reached out for something and her hands landed on something solid. Something familiar. “Sam?” she choked on her own breath.

“Jess.” Hands were gripping her and helping her up. “Jess, what happened?”

“Where am I?”

“Home. You’re home.”

Jess looked around frantically. Yeah, she was home. In her apartment. And Sam was with her. “Sam,” she reached for him and her boyfriend rubbed her back. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you’re okay.” he kissed her head and sat down next to her on the bed. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Us? Jess looked around, and realised that Dean and John were sitting on the other side of the bed in chairs dragged over from the dining room. She closed her eyes as she tried to remember. “I wasn’t in control of my body.”

Sam looked fearful at the statement. “What do you mean?”

“No, I didn’t do anything bad. Or whatever was possessing me.” Jess felt around her throat. It was like the thing that had been preventing her from speaking had let loose. Just a little. “The voice in my head. It’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I can tell. But it’s just– it’s just gone. I could always feel it in the back of my mind scratching and itching, but there’s nothing now.”

Sam’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through her hair. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.” she shook her head. “It actually felt like I was being… healed.” She had no words for it. She had felt lighter, stronger, better than she had ever felt. And her mind had been at ease.

“Is that the same thing that healed every scar?” Dean asked.

She nodded. “It felt like it. But stronger.”

“And then what?” John’s voice rumbled.

“There was this other person. Man or woman I couldn’t exactly tell– but they were on the ground bleeding. And I asked them, but it wasn’t really me asking, whether they wanted to be saved from this cruel world? And if so then to say yes… I think they said yes. And then nothing…” She reached for her head as if it would give her a more concrete explanation. “It was like I was empty. Like whatever had possessed me, literally, left.”

“But you’re not hurt.” Sam asked gently.

“No.” She cracked a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Sam also mentioned something else.” Dean leaned forwards, his green eyes searching her blue. “That you saw her, before she died.”

She? Oh, Sharon. “I did. She said it was her soul.”

“I saw her too. In the hospital, correct?” John raised an eyebrow.

Jess nodded. “She was with us the whole time, until she wasn’t.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s gonna be us someday.” Dean gave a humorless laugh. It pained Jess, and it pained Sam and John too. “Here one day, not here the next.” He pushed himself off the chair and walked out of the room. “Get well soon, Jess.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” Jess whispered. She wasn’t sure how. But it was all gonna be okay.

 

Dean finally made the trek to Bobby’s. With Sam in tow. Dad had driven off somewhere with the promise of calling in at least once a day. And like hell Dean was gonna try and make that man go with him to Bobby’s, not after that dumb huge fight they’d had several years ago.

“So you’re just gonna be here with me?” Dean looked to his right where Sam was tapping his fingers along to the song on the radio.

“Yeah. Whatever’s haunting Jess… and was haunting Sharon… I wanna know what it was.”

“To keep it from possessing more people?”

“Kind of. Yeah.” Sam gave him that worried puppy eyed look.

Dean flinched. “Yeah? Well. Lemme get this paperwork sorted out and we can be on our merry jolly way to do just that.”

Chapter 30: Bloodlust

Summary:

"Dean opened his mouth, but he had no retort to that. She would have been alive if not for him and his family, standing right next to him, telling him to not kill the vampires, or at least look into it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sam was still going on about holes and hearts and Gordon. “I’m not trynna replace Sharon with Gordon.” Dean finally said, quietly. “I’m not replacing her with anything.”"

Notes:

JD Vance killed the Pope. CHANGE MY MIND HAHAHAHA.
Here's another chapter. Honestly yall could skip all of it (but pls don't or else i'll cry). it's the last bunch of paragraphs that really matter. I hope yall cry as much as I did while writing it. hahahahahahahahaha.

“Balls,” Bobby grimaced at the sight of the Impala in front of him. “How did you bang ‘er up so hard?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t me. It was some jackass that ran a red light and slammed into her.”

“You let the guy go?” Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Dean scoffed. “Of course not. No one gets away with hurting my Baby.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you boys are stuck here, until you can get that car fixed.” Bobby stepped aside and let the boys back inside. “How you kids holdin’ up?”

“Perfect.”

Bobby didn’t like Dean’s answer.

Sam just nodded curtly. “We’re doing good. Thanks, Bobby.”

The older man shrugged. “Well. You boys tell your old man that if he wants to stop by then he better be ready to face a shotgun. Got that little girl killed in his revenge plot.” And she’d been like a daughter to them both. A high pitched bark had him looking down. A small little puppy appeared out of nowhere and ran into his legs. “Oh there you are, Rumsfeld.”

“Rumsfeld?” Dean looked appalled at the furry little creature that was now coming up to him to sniff him. “Since when do you have a dog, Bobby?” Dean dodged the poor pup’s sniffing attempts and the puppy whined. Sam was a lot more welcoming, kneeling down to rub the pup’s head and letting him drool all over his hands. “Who’s a good boy?” The youngest Winchester cooed.

“Since I decided I needed a little company.” Bobby scoffed at Dean’s apprehension. “Now you gonna get that paperwork done?” Bobby motioned to the stacks piling up on his table. “All of those things need your signature.”

“I only came here for the will.” Dean’s voice was tight.

Bobby softened a little. “And you’ll get it, Dean. I've already called her lawyer. She changed it last minute to someone you boys probably already know. James Roberts?”

“That guy?” Dean scoffed. “Should have known when she was saving his number. So, uh, when’s he coming?”

“He’s a little tied up with something right now. Said he would be here in five days’ time… why don’t you start working on that car? And start checking out…” Bobby searched Dean’s face for a reaction. “Her stuff? See if there’s anything you wanna keep?”

Dean’s face was stiff. “And what’re you gonna do with the rest?”

“Keep it in her room… maybe donate some of that stuff. Those blankets could go to the local shelter. And the dolls could go to hospitals or senior livings or even hospice.” She would have wanted that.

“Well. Whatever Bobby, it’s not like she’s gonna whine about anything.”

 

Dean thought he would feel a lot worse if he came up to her bedroom. He took in the sight from her doorway, which he himself had once painted a bright lavender several years ago.

Bobby had left everything pretty much untouched. Other than a few dustings here and there, and an incense stick smoking away on her night stand, it looked and felt the same.

Her bed was made with way too many lumps and her many pillows lined the walls along with different blankets with different thicknesses and different purposes. A giant teddy bear was flopped onto the floor, her personal little armchair.

First things first. He took his shoes off and stepped into the little wonderland. He would have thrown up at the sight if this wasn’t her little haven. A crocheted version of Baby sat on her bookshelf, proudly guarding the titles behind it, and a dragon with fire coming out of its mouth faced off against it. He smirked at the sight. Baby would win no doubt.

He sank down on her mattress and dared to look up, posters and pictures of all kinds of things covered the ceiling and the walls, and right above her desk were random formulas and Latin chants that she’d been in the middle of memorising before he’d dragged her away.

His hands were shaking. She wasn’t coming back. He could hear Sam and Bobby talking below him. Something about law and whatnot. They weren’t gonna come up any time soon. He laid back on her pillows and let the tears fall silently, staring blurry eyed at her crocheted animals that seemed to be crying with him.

 

Sam was perplexed. Dean hadn’t started fixing Baby, hadn’t started picking out what he wanted from Sharon’s things, hadn’t even looked at the piles of documents waiting for him to be looked at. Instead, he’d looked up a case– a demon case– and taken a 69 Camaro that Bobby had just finished fixing up for a spin.

Sam rolled his eyes. Bobby had taken one look at Dean’s freshly tear stained face lighting up the tiniest bit at the sight of the freshly red painted car and had suggested that the two brothers take it out for the case while he fixed up Baby.

Right now, if he looked to his left and took out his earbuds, he would see and hear Dean drumming and terribly humming along to Metallica on the radio with a smile on his face and the wind blowing what little hair he had through the open window. He looked happy. Too happy. Like he was forcing himself to be happy.

Sam finally slipped his earbuds off and caught his brother’s green eyes. They were still a little red from earlier. “You’re in a good mood.” He said instead.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Dean grinned and turned up the music a little louder. “Bobby’s fixing up Baby, said he would give her a couple of surprise upgrades, and I got a cool car just like her.” He stepped a little harder on the accelerator and whistled. “Listen to her purr!”

Sam scoffed. “Let me know if you two want a room.”

“Oh I’m a loyal man. Baby is my only soulmate and you know it.” Lies, so was Sharon. “Well, in any case. The lawyer and paper stuff shouldn't take much longer. Things are finally looking up! And , we got a case.”

“Wow. You hear a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine.”

Dean ignored Sam’s comment. “How far to Red Lodge?”

“Uh.” Sam shuffled with the map. “About another three hundred miles.”

“Awesome.” Dean floored it.

 

Dean and Sam were now sitting across from a sheriff sporting an insane mustache.

“The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time.” the sheriff said. Dean was holding himself back from laughing at the way the man’s mustache moved more than his mouth every time he spoke.

He let Sam continue speaking. “Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?”

The sheriff hummed, rubbing his mustache.

“Okay, and the other, a, uh, Christina Flanigan.”

“That was two days ago. Is there–”

Dean looked up when a woman knocked on their door. “Oh. Sorry boys, time's up, we're done here.”

“One last question.” Sam gave a thin lipped smile and turned back to the sheriff. “What about the cattle?”

“Yeah, what about the cattle?” Dean pressed.

“Excuse me?” the sheriff was taken aback.

“You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases.”

“What about them?” The sheriff was beginning to look annoyed.

Sam continued. “So you don’t think there’s a connection?”

“Connection… with…”

“First cattle mutilations, now two murders? Kinda sounds like ritual stuff.” Huh, Sam was going in hard.

Well, then Dean was too. “You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?”

The sheriff laughed. But then slowly stopped when Dean and Sam gave no further response. “You’re not kidding.”

“No.” Dean needed to know. If it was a demon.

“Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?” the sheriff smirked. “Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?”

“World Weekly News,” “Weekly World News,” Dean looked at Sam and Sam looked back at him, unimpressed.

“World–”

“Weekly World–”

“Weekly…” Dean sighed, giving up. Too many Ws. “I'm new.”

“Get out of my office.”

 

Another day, another morgue. But they were being blocked by a stubborn intern standing in front of them. The kid looked like he hadn’t slept in days let alone eaten or showered, or shat, Dean noted. He looked a little closer at the kid’s ID. J. Manners. What J name was most likely? John seemed safest. “John.”

“Jeff.” the kid scowled as he corrected.

“Jeff. I knew that.” he cleared his throat. “Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.” What kind of a last name was Dworkin?

“But Dr. Dworkin’s on vacation.” John- no Jeff blinked.

“Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would…” The kid was gone before he could finish threatening him with an angry boss. “Oookay.” He turned to Sam. “Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?”

“Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead.”

“Yeah. So much fuckedd up crap happens in Florida.”

Dean grabbed a box of latex gloves – XL obviously – and passed a pair to Sam. Both of them dramatically snapped them on like they were the heroes in a crime show.

Sam wheeled out a corpse from one of the compartments. He reached for the box at the foot of the corpse and blinked at the lid.

Dean looked at his brother. “All right, you open it.”

“You open it.”

“Wuss.” He took the lid off and grimaced.

Sam cringed at the sight and smell too.

“Well no pentagram.” Dean held back a shudder.

“Wow. Poor girl.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth.” He flashed a smile at Sam. “See if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like, Moth in Silence of the Lambs.”

Sam nudged him. “Yeah, here, go ahead.”

Dean resisted the force. “No, you go ahead.”

“What?”

“‘Put the lotion in the basket’.”

Sam fixed him with a glare. “Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh? Whatever.”

Dean watched as Sam started poking his fingers into the head’s mouth.

“Dean, get me a bucket.”

Dean perked up. “What. You find something?”

“No, I’m gonna puke.”

Dean ignored his brother’s gags. He would get over it soon enough. “Wait, lift the lip up again?” He could have sworn there was something there.

“What? You want me to throw up, is that it?”

Like that would bother Dean. He’d been cleaning up Sammy’s puke since forever, half of it off of himself. “I think I saw something.” He reached out for the lip himself and lifted it up. “What is that, a hole?” Dean pressed on it and a tooth slid out.

“It’s a tooth.” Sam gawked.

“Sam, that's a fang. Retractable set of vampire fangs, you've got to be kidding me.”

“Well, that changes things.”

“Ya think?”

 

Dean and Sam pulled up to a bar. It looked shady and cheap enough for vampires to be finding prey that hardly anyone would miss. They strutted up to the bar confidently and took their seats on the barstools.

“How’s it going?” Dean asked the bartender.

“Living the dream.” The man looked bored out of his mind. “What can I get for you?”

“Two beers, please.”

“So, we’re looking for some people.” Sam asked before the bartender could disappear completely from sight.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Hard to be lonely.” He fell silent when Sam dangled a fifty dollar bill from his fingers. He slipped it out from his fingers and slipped it into his pocket. “Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink…”

Dean didn’t miss the way the man next to them eyed them, clearly eavesdropping. “Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night.”

“Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners.” The bartender grinned. Clearly he was making money off of them. “They've been in here a lot - drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice.”

“Thanks.” Dean nudged Sam and they left their half drunk beers on the counter.

Slow methodical footsteps echoed behind them as they walked. They were being followed. Was the guy next to them from the bar a vampire? Sam did a small gesture with his hands. His baby brother was too smart for his own good. Dean flicked his hand to the left.

They took a turn and he felt for the cold blade against his side. The second the prowler turned, Sam had the man pinned against the wall and Dean pressed his blade against the man’s neck. Easy.

“Smile.” Dean demanded.

“What?” The black man, obviously very fit, looked flustered.

“Show us those pearly whites.”

“Oh, for the love of - you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire.”

Sam frowned.

“Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there.”

“What do you know about vampires?” Sam didn’t loosen his grip.

“How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.”

Dean cocked his head curiously. Huh. a hunter? The man squirmed and Sam pushed him back tighter.

“Whoa. Easy there, chachi.” the man raised his hands in surrender. He slowly lifted his upper lip. “See? Fangless. Happy?”

They were, in fact, normal human gums. Dean released him and Sam fell back with him. “Now. Who the hell are you?”

 

“Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. Heard of Bobby’s girl too. One of you married her, huh? Heard she passed. I’m sorry.” Dean’s skin bristled when the man, Gordon, shook his head. “Real nice girl too.”

“You seem to know a lot about our family.” Dean cut in.

“Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk.”

“No, we don’t, actually.”

“Well your girl did. If you called her with a question on lore or even just wanted a pen pal, she replied faster than the internet.” She did? He always thought her services were exclusive to him and a few close others.

Sam shifted uneasily. “So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?” Thank God for Sam changing topics.

“Yep. Been here two weeks.”

“Did you check out that Barker farm?” Dean asked.

Gordon nodded. “It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.”

“Where’s the nest then?”

Gordon shook his head with a chuckle. “I've got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.”

“We could help.”

“Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.”

“Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt.” And he had been. He needed to get the edge off and just drinking wasn’t helping.

“Sorry. But hey,” Gordon smiled. “I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out.” And he got back in his car. “It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side.”

 

Like hell Dean and Sam were just gonna let this hunter run off like that. Especially on a vampire hunt. Not solo.

They piled into the Camaro and drove after Gordon’s car with the headlights off, obviously. They weren’t about to be caught by the man.

“He went in there.” Sam pointed towards the mill.

“Well,” Dean killed the engine. “What’re we waiting for?”

They went prepared. Machete in hand and muscles ready for action.

By the time they managed to make their way into the mill, Gordon was being pinned down by a vampire doing his best to bite the man.

Sam knocked over the creature and pulled Gordon away, and Dean used a chainsaw to decapitate the thing.

“So uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink.” Gordon laughed.

Sam and Dean just stared at each other.

 

Sam was scowling the whole time. He wasn’t enjoying this one bit. Gordon said one thing nice about Sharon, bought Dean one round of beer and suddenly Dean was talking to this guy like they’d known each other for years.

“Another one bites the dust.” Gordon raised his glass.

“That’s right.” Dean toasted back.

Sam clenched his own glass and downed it.

“You alright, Sammy?” Dean said, a little too loosely.

He was drunk, Sam noted. “I’m fine.”

“Well, lighten up a little, Sammy.”

And maybe he himself was a little tipsy because he snapped at Gordon. “He's the only one who gets to call me that.” and Sharon.

Gordon raised his hands defensively. “Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done.”

“Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess.”

“Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job.”

Dean practically glowed. “See? That's what I've been trying to tell him. You could learn a thing or two from this guy.”

That rubbed Sam the wrong way. He couldn’t do this anymore. “Yeah, I bet I could. Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel.”

“You sure?” Dean glanced at him, but his eyes were already hazed over.

“Yeah.” He pushed his chair back with a screech and stood up.

“Sammy?” He looked down at his older brother. “Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you later, all right?” That jerk. But Dean tossed him his keys anyway and Sam headed for the door.

“Something I said?”

“No, no, he just gets that way sometimes. Tell you what. Match you quarters for the next round.”

He didn’t bother listening any further.

 

Dean was having the time of his life. After a very long time. Finally, someone he could talk to about all  the violence with once again. “…So. I pick up this crossbow. And I hit that ugly sucker with a silver-tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car, and uh, me and my dad take the thing into the woods, burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there and looking into the fire, and I'm thinking to myself, I'm sixteen years old. Most kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates. I'm seeing things that they'll never even know. Never even dream of. So right then, I just sort of –”

Gordon gave a knowing smile. “Embraced the life?”

“Yeah.” Dean couldn’t believe it. This guy got it. It felt like this guy understood him. In a way his Dad, Sam, even Sharon never did. “Yeah. How'd you get started?”

“First time I saw a vampire I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grab my dad's gun, run in, try to get it off her. Too late.” Gordon inhaled sharply. “So I shoot the damn thing. Which of course is about as useful as snapping it with a rubber band. It rushes me, picks me up, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone, my sister's gone.”

“And then?” Dean asked gently.

“Then… try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around looking for information: how you track 'em, how you kill 'em. And I found that fang - it was my first kill.” Gordon grinned.

“Sorry about your sister.” Dean said, almost robotically.

“Yeah. She was beautiful. I can still see her, you know? The way she was. But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your wife . It's gotta be rough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know. He was just one of those women. Feminine as fuck, but manspread more than I probably do, and the way she talked, man. So you're always thinking to yourself, she knows how to defend herself. She’s smarter than anything in this world, could probably outsmart God if she met him– that she'll always be around, you know. We’re the same age, same vibes. Then just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “She's gone. I can't talk about this to Sammy or Dad. You know, I gotta keep my game face on.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his drink. “Feels like they all moved on. But uh, the truth is I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this–” He wasn’t sure how to describe it.

“Hole inside you? And it just gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker? Good. You can use it. Keeps you hungry. Trust me. There's plenty out there needs killing, and this'll help you do it. Dean, it's not a crime to need your job.”

Gordon wasn’t wrong. The anger from her death had fueled him into following up with this case. He’d taken down a killer clown with his Dad. And now these vampires with Sam. In almost less than two weeks. Gordon was right. He was doing good. He was doing good.

 

John stood over the bagged up skinwalker still bleeding onto the cloth he’d wrapped it in for transport. Another job well done. He rolled the corpse into the grave he’d randomly dug in a school playground and reached for his lighter in his pocket. Only to be met with a vibrating phone instead.

He checked the caller ID. Sammy.

“Hey Sammy,” he smiled despite the flickering of his lighter. “Everything okay with you boys?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question.” His Sammy, always concise and to the point.

“Of course, son.”

“You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?”

John really wished he had a beer right now. “Yeah, I know a Gordon.”

“And?”

He sighed. Why did Sam want to know this? He paled. Had they met? “Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, son?”

“Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess.”

Absolutely not. “Don’t do that Sammy.”

John could almost see his youngest tensing up. “I-I thought you said he was a good hunter.”

“Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you boys just let him handle it and you move on. Don’t let Dean near that man.”

“But he said he worked with Sharon.” John didn’t miss the way Sam avoided bringing up Sharon.

“I know. But it was only through letters, and Sharon didn’t like him that much either. Keep. Dean. Away. From him.” For the first time in his life, John was telling his youngest to watch out for his firstborn. Oh how the tables had turned.

“Dad–”

“No, Sammy. Don’t argue. Just listen to what I tell you.”

Sam audibly swallowed. “Okay.”

“Do I need to come?”

Sam paused his movements on the other side. “No, Dad.” was the quiet answer. Of course. John let the body under him burst into flames and looked up at the starry sky. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be the one the boys called. Sharon was dead and their go to source for support and information was gone. And there was no one to take care of Dean except for Sam. At least Sam had Jess. He closed his eyes as the last sparks died out. His kids didn’t even need him anymore. “Not yet. I’ll call if we need help.” John inhaled shakily, as the words left Sam’s mouth at last.

“That’s good enough for me, son.”

 

Dean felt happy. Well, it was more like he couldn’t feel anything. Not the pain, not the sadness. All he felt was the buzz in his head, lighter than a feather. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Free from worrying about a woman pressed against his arm like he was the only thing keeping her tethered in this world.

That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He chewed the insides of his cheek. He liked having her hanging off of him. He wanted that warmth back at his side. Yeah, it had felt like he were responsible for her, but she had also been responsible for him. And sometimes — more often than not, truthfully — he was the one holding onto her while the world fell apart around him.

He tipped his glass back again. The whiskey was hardly doing anything for him anymore.

“Know why I love this life?” He was glad for Gordon’s talkative nature.

“Hmm?”

“It’s all black and white. There’s no maybe.” Dean mulled over this thought. “You find the bad thing, kill it. See, most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is that right? Is that wrong? Not us.”

“Not sure Sammy would agree with you, but uh…” Sharon wouldn’t agree either.

“Doesn't seem like your brother's much like us.” Gordon shook his head slowly. “And neither was your wife. Always trynna convince me to talk to these mindless creatures.” Gordon gave Dean a pointed look that Dean was suddenly uncomfortable with. “She was a good informant, but she wasn’t cut out for this life. I'm not saying either of them were wrong. Just different. But you and me? We were born to do this. It's in our blood.”

Dean wasn’t the smartest. His brother and his wife could outwit him any day. But one thing Dean did pride himself on was his instincts. They were rarely wrong. And his instincts tonight in front of Gordon, said that this was a dangerous man. That he should stay away.

 

Sam stood in front of the vending machine by the motel, debating what to get. There was sweet tea, unsweetened tea, ten kinds of sodas, and a few candies stuffed into the bottom shelf. Dean would appreciate the candy for sure. But if that man ate sugar after all that alcohol, Sam had no doubt the man would end up in the hospital.

Sam scoffed to himself. But he bought the overpriced candy anyway and stuffed it into his pocket. He reached out to press the unsweetened tea, when everything went black.

 

Sam felt like a damsel in distress. He was gagged. He’d been tied up to a chair and the thick ropes dug ruthlessly into his skin. There was a sack on his head, but it was unceremoniously ripped off his head, sending his carefully combed bangs into a frenzy.

He narrowed his eyes at the male vampire – the bartender he’d bribed – taking tentative steps towards him, fangs out, ready to bite.

Sam jerked at his bonds uselessly. They wouldn’t budge. He growled low in his throat when the vampire got too close. Had Dean noticed he was missing yet? Or was he too drunk to even care? The candies were heavy in his pocket.

“Wait! Step back, Eli!” came a female voice.

Sam flickered a glance towards the woman. Who was this woman? Another vampire? Shit. How was he going to fight off two vampires like this?

The vampire named Eli backed off. The woman took a step forward and Sam readied himself for a punch, a kick, a bite, a– but to his surprise, the woman took off his gag. He gasped and glared into the woman’s eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to buy time, but the woman spoke first.

“My name's Lenore, I'm not going to hurt you. We just need to talk.”

Ridiculous. “Talk? Yeah, okay, but I might have a tough time paying attention to much besides Eli's teeth.” He snarled.

“He won't hurt you either, you have my word.”

Sam snapped. “Your word? Oh yeah, great, thanks. Listen lady, no offense but you're not the first vampire I've met.”

Lenore’s bottom lip trembled. “We're not like the others. We don't kill humans, and we don't drink their blood. We haven't for a long time.”

Sam looked from her to Eli and then back to Lenore. “What is this, some kind of joke?”

“Notice you’re still alive.” Lenore quipped.

Yeah… but so was she. “Okay, uh, correct me if I'm wrong here, but shouldn't you be starving to death?”

“We've found other ways. Cattle blood.”

“You're telling me you're responsible for all the–”

Lenore shuddered. “It's not ideal, in fact it's disgusting. But it allows us to get by.”

He couldn’t wrap his head around this. Vampires not drinking human blood but surviving off of cattle blood. “Why?”

“Survival. No deaths, no missing locals, no reason for people like you to come looking for people like us. We blend in. Our kind is practically extinct. Turns out we weren't quite as high up the food chain as we imagined.”

Eli scoffed. “Why are we explaining ourselves to this killer?”

“Eli!” Lenore pleaded.

“We choke on cow's blood so that none of them suffer. Tonight they murdered Conrad and they celebrated.”

Based on Eli’s tone, Sam had no choice but to believe the two vampires in front of him when they said they didn’t kill humans. But he had to make sure.

“Eli, that’s enough.”

“Yeah, Eli, that’s enough.” Sam taunted.

Eli shrugged. “What's done is done. We're leaving this town tonight.” Eli and Lenore turned to leave.

No, he couldn’t just let the targets get away. “Then why did you bring me here? Why are you even talking to me?”

“Believe me, I'd rather not. But I know your kind.” Lenore’s eyes were haunted. And Sam shuddered at the way she said ‘your kind’. He also addressed vampires as ‘your kind’ but he’d never heard humans be called that. “Once you have the scent you'll keep tracking us, it doesn't matter where we go. Hunters will find us.”

“So you're asking us not to follow you.”

“We have a right to live, we're not hurting anyone.”

Sure. sure they weren’t hurting anyone. Gordon wouldn’t have just come here and started killing unless something was seriously wrong… right? “Right, so you keep saying, but give me one good reason why I should believe you.”

“Fine. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you go.” Lenore clasped her hands together as she gingerly approached him with the sack that had been on his head. Sam was more than startled. “Take him back. Not a mark on him.”

And the sack was put back on him.

 

Gordon was a brash driver. Dean couldn’t help but notice. He drove almost like him, a little more reckless, but the road was empty. It felt nice to be passenger princess– prince– no wait, King– without having his knees slammed up against the dashboard.

Gordon slid into the parking spot next to Baby and got out. Dean pushed his side of the door open and brushed his hands against his own car. Baby looked unharmed. He spotted the vending machine in the corner and made a note to buy Sam some soda as a treat. The kid had looked bummed out at the bar too. Some sugar would do him good.

“Which room is it again?” Gordon looked around the hallway.

“Second one on the right.” Dean answered and followed after Gordon. He could get Sam his treat later.

 

Maps were thrown across the table. Gordon had a one track mind. Not getting side tracked by some random bird outside the window like Sammy or fumbling over street names as he tried to reorient himself like Sharon. Dean could live with this. Nothing, just alcohol and hunting. And, it seemed like Gordon agreed. None of that chick flick crap.

“This is the best pattern I can establish. It's sketchy at best.” Dean looked down at Gordon’s rough sketching on the map.

He placed his bottle of beer on a corner and nodded. “Looks like it's all coming from this side of town. Which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?”

“Yep, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty five, forty farms out there. I've searched about half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good.”

“Then I guess we'll just have to search the other half.” Dean glanced at his watch and frowned. Sam should have been back by now. “What time is it? Where is Sam?”

“Car's parked outside.” Gordon shrugged. “Probably went for a walk. Seems like the take a walk type.”

Dean’s heart went into overdrive. Sam wouldn’t leave for so long. “Yeah, he is, but…” He grabbed his jacket. His baby brother had to be okay. He paused in his tracks when the door opened and a stunned Sam stood in front of him. “Sammy.” He immediately made his way to him. “Where you been?”

Sam glanced at Gordon but focused back on Dean. “Can I talk to you alone?”

Dean wasn’t about to deny his baby brother that request. He turned to Gordon. “You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?”

 

Dean and Sam ended up walking around the parking lot.

“Dean, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt.” Sam started.

“What are you talking about? Where were you?”

“In the nest.”

Dean’s heart sped up with excitement. “You found it?”

“They found me, man.” Sam gave a laugh in disbelief.

Dean was a little more concerned. But Sammy didn’t look hurt. “How'd you get out? How many did you kill?”

“None.”

“Well, Sammy, they didn’t just let you go.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “That's exactly what they did.”

Maybe they’d sent out Sam as a challenge. “All right. Well, where is it?”

“I was blindfolded. I don’t know.”

“Well, you've got to know something.”

Sam looked uneasy as he finally gave a small piece of information. “We went over that bridge outside of town, but Dean, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them.” Why was his brother so defensive over a bunch of vampires?

Dean crossed his arms and leaned against Baby. “Why not?”

“I don't think they're like other vampires.” Sam’s voice dropped. “I don't think they're killing people.”

Dean couldn’t believe it. “You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are.”

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood.”

“And you believed them?”

“Look at me, Dean.” Sam raised his arms so Dean could get a better look. “They let me go without a scratch.”

And he was right. There was nothing to suggest any harm had come upon him. “Wait, so you're saying…” Gordon had been adamant on killing them. The vampires must have been trying to manipulate Sam into letting them go and using him as a decoy to escape. “No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.”

“Why?” Sam snapped.

“What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job.”

“No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!”

Sam was wrong. Supernatural beings were evil. Every single one of those things had tried to kill them. Hell, the whole reason they were stuck in this life was because of some demon deciding to toy with their family. “Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.” But Sam had a point. If they weren’t hurting people then were they even to be hunted?

“No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time.”

“Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows.”

“Gordon?”

“Yes.”

“You're taking his word for it?”

Dean didn’t like Sam’s tone. He tilted his chin further up so he could glare down at Sam. “That’s right.”

“Dad says he’s bad news.”

“You called Dad ?” Dean hissed.

Sam nodded. And stood his ground.

“And I'm supposed to listen to him?” Dean laughed and shook his head. “He’s the one that got Sharon killed.”

“Right. And Gordon’s the one that saved her. You heard him say it himself, Dean. Sharon's and his ideals don’t match.”

“Well, now she’s dead and he’s alive. I think it’s clear who wins.”

“Why are you talking about her like that?”

“She wasn’t meant for this life, alright? She was from the future– 2025. That’s still, like, nineteen years away. She wasn’t even born yet!”

“Dean!”

“No, shut up Sammy. She’s dead. Because this life caught up to her–”

“She sacrificed herself to save our asses. And that’s how you’re gonna remember her?”

Dean opened his mouth, but he had no retort to that. She would have been alive if not for him and his family, standing right next to him, telling him to not kill the vampires, or at least look into it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Sam was still going on about holes and hearts and Gordon. “I’m not trynna replace Sharon with Gordon.” Dean finally said, quietly. “I’m not replacing her with anything.”

“That’s not what it looks like to me. And you know as well I do all that is bullshit.”

Dean turned around and took a breath. Then, he turned around and clocked Sam right in the cheek. His brother stumbled, holding his cheek, but his jaw set tight. Dean prepared himself for a punch back. He needed to get these thoughts out somehow. In a fight, at least, he wouldn’t have to think about the details.

“You hit me all you want. It won't change anything.”

Well, if Sam wasn’t gonna give him a fight… “I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself.”

 

Dean stood in the empty motel room. The man was gone. “Gordon?”

Sam’s footsteps were rushed behind him. “You think he went after them?”

“Probably.”

“Dean, we have to stop him.”

“Really, Sam? Because I say we lend a hand.”

“Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that.”

Dean glanced at the redness on Sam’s left cheek. “Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys.”

Sam’s jaw fell open. “They’re gone.”

Dean cursed under his breath.

 

“Bobby just finished fixing this one up.” Dean grumbled as he finished hotwiring the Camaro. “I don’t believe it.” He slammed the door shut. Sam slid in next to him. “So the bridge, is that all you got?”

“The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm.”

Dean looked at Sam quizzically. “How do you know?”

Sam shrugged. “I counted.” Right. Of course he did. And then he pulled out a map of the area and started drawing on it with his finger. “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge.”

Dean couldn’t help but be impressed. “You're good. You're a monster pain in the ass, but you're good.”

Sam sat a little bit taller, a little more confident. And Dean felt the tiniest, just the tiniest bit of guilt at the bruise forming on his cheek.

 

The sight inside the barn made Dean sick to his stomach. And it took a lot to do that. He’d seen some things.

“Sam. Dean. Come on in.” Gordon’s grin was far too wide for a man on a simple hunt.

Dean’s heart nearly stopped at the sight behind Gordon. Sam stiffened next to him. A woman was tied to the chair, disheveled and bleeding from several wounds on anywhere her skin had been left bare. He shifted his weight to one foot, keeping a hand steady on his machete, the gun sitting right next to it, just in case. “Hey, Gordon. What's going on?”

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Want to help?”

“Look, man.”

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Lenore whimpered when Gordon dragged a blood drenched knife down her arm.

Dean shook his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?”

Gordon looked surprised. “I’m completely chill.”

“Gordon, put the knife down.” Sam’s voice was low and threatening as he stepped forward.

But this Gordon guy turned out to be a little too crazy in the head. Dean held an arm out to stop his brother from bashing the guy’s face in. Gordon had a gun tucked in his jeans. And Dean was not taking any chances with Sammy.

“Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill.” Gordon snorted.

Sam bristled. “Just step away from her, all right?”

“You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.” He pulled out a freshly sharpened knife. “I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane.”

Sam pushed past Dean’s outstretched hand before he could stop him. “Gordon, I'm letting her go.”

The knife was aimed towards Sam’s chest and Gordon threatened in a low voice. “You're not doing a damn thing.”

Dammit. Dean placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this.”

“What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.”

“Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel.”

“Do you?”

“That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one…”

Gordon laughed. “killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her.” Dean’s blood ran cold. “It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

“ What? ” He hissed.

“It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you.” Gordon’s voice was too calm for Dean’s liking.

“So you knew all along, then? You knew about the vampires,” Sam’s voice rose with every word. “You knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.”

“Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it.” Gordon snarled.

And then the bastard dragged his knife over his baby brother’s arm. Sam hissed. Dean saw red. “You let him go.” He pulled his gun out on instinct.

“Relax.” Gordon scoffed. “If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point.” He dragged a rigid Sam over to Lenore and dripped the blood from his bleeding arm into her mouth. Lenore screamed, her fangs coming out from her gums. Her eyes grew wild and the scream that tore from her throat was anything but humane. Yet, she forced her head away from Sam’s blood. “You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the Same. Evil, bloodthirsty.”

“No!” Lenor screamed.

Sam snatched his arm back. “You see that, Gordon?”

“No, no!” Lenore was crying now, her tears mixing with the blood on her skin.

“We're done here.” Sam kept his eyes on Gordon and Dean backed him up.

“Sam, get her out of here.” Dean stepped in between Sam and Lenore, and Gordon and kept his gun trained on the vampire killing maniac. Sam wasted no time in leaving with the shaking vampire in his arms. Gordon aimed to follow. “Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon. I think you and I've got some things to talk about.” He made a show of clicking his gun as a reminder.

“Get out of my way.” Gordon demanded.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you've gotta go through me.”

That seemed to make Gordon realise the situation. Gun would win over a knife anyday. Gordon jammed the knife into the table. “Fine.”

Dean nodded and slid the clip out of the gun.

And then the punches flew. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. Gordon was strong, almost as strong as him, Dean realised. But he also only fought with his upper half. Dean jammed his boot into Gordon’s knee and the man above him howled. “You're not like your brother. You're a killer, like me.” Gordon growled, and threw another punch.

Dean grabbed his fist and elbowed him with his other free hand. “I don’t think so, you sadistic bastard.” Sharon would agree with him. She called him a ‘hero’ sometimes, late at night, when she was so sleepy her words slurred and her honest truths came out. Dean slammed his knee up against Gordon’s hard stomach, knocking the wind out of the man and ramming him up against a wall. Another punch to the jaw, and the Black man was out cold.

Dean snorted and shoved him into a chair and started tying up the bastard. “You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now.”

 

Gordon was still out when Sam walked in. Dean was pacing the room, his knuckles bruised and blood starting to form on the jeans near his knees. Sam’s own cut wasn’t faring much better. The wound was itching and he hoped he hadn’t gotten it infected already. “Did I miss anything?”

Dean’s head snapped up. “Nah, not much.” His eyes looked distant. “Lenore get out okay?”

“Yeah. All of them did.”

“Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?” Dean mocked the unconscious but gagged and tied up man. “All right. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you.”

Sam nodded. “Ready to go, Dean?”

“Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real.” Dean’s fist pulled back before connecting with Gordon’s cheek, sending the other man to the floor. “Okay. I'm good now. We can go.”

 

“Sorry about the car, Bobby.” Dean said sheepishly as he handed over the keys to the older man. Bobby raised an eyebrow at the sight of Dean’s cheek, a punch right to the jaw, and Sam sported one on his cheek too.

“Did the vampires do that?”

“Uhh… kind of.” Dean grinned. “This one was taller than me.”

“You dumb boys. You fight each other more than those monsters.” Bobby rolled his eyes before resting his hand heavily on his shoulder. “You broke her. You fix her.”

Dean’s smile fell. “I got Baby to work on.”

“Shoulda thought about that before hotwiring this one.” Bobby scoffed, and turned around. Dean heard a soft but sharp bark at his feet as the Rottweiler’s blur shot past him, following his new owner into the building. And Sam left the house with a pile of books in his arms, colourful covers with questionable titles.

“Hey, where are you taking those?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

Sam dumped the books onto the ground and dusted his hands. “Well, she did have some nonfiction in here that I thought I might keep.” Sam jerked his head to the pile. “I was gonna sort through them in the house but Bobby said he didn’t wanna know what books she had other than ‘Beneath the CEO’s Sheets’, and…” Sam shuddered at the thought. “‘The Lust and Lies of Aladdin’.”

Dean forced a smile. “And she said I was addicted to porn.”

Sam nodded. “Well, I’m gonna go get the rest of them out. Might give some of these to charity. There’s a couple of kids’ books too.” Sam held a hand out in the direction of the thick books. “I don’t know if you want any but I guess you should look through them.” And he disappeared back into the building.

Dean pressed his lips together. Everyone was moving on. Bobby got a dog. Jess took the bike. Dad took all the research she had gathered onto that slim device. And now Sam was sorting through her books. He ran a hand down his face. Dad had been droning about Mom, about how he dealt. He’d tried those methods. Drinking it away. Trying to sleep with other women. Burying himself in hunting. But nothing seemed to work.

He curled his hands into fists. She’d left him. The same her who whispered to him every night that he wasn’t alone. And she’d left him alone. He wanted to punch something. Break something to pieces, wishing it was his memories of her. To show her how the pain in his heart felt. And how he wished he’d never given it to her in the first place. He grabbed the hammer and stared at the black paint of the Impala. Baby wasn’t gonna leave him any time soon. No matter what he did to her, Baby would always be with him.

So he swung.

He swung on the roof she used to sit on while she watched him work. He swung on the hood where he once bent her over under the stars. He swung into the windows where her head rested as she slept. But he wasn’t done. He flipped the hammer around and tore at the handles of the passenger door, the one he never had the opportunity to open for her because she always got to it first. He ripped open the front seat vinyl where she curled up with him on nights they didn’t have a motel. And he tore into the backseat too, where he’d made love to her for the first time on their wedding night.

And yet, no matter how hard he tried to shred his memories of her, he couldn’t help the angry desperate scream that tore through his throat.

Sammy and Bobby hadn’t questioned the screaming or the scrap of metal that was not the glorious Impala. All they’d done was crack the door open, made sure he was alive, and then closed the door so the damned dog couldn’t run out of the house.

Dean pulled out his phone and hit the contact saved as ‘Dad’. The man picked up on the first ring.

“Hey son.” Dad’s voice was gentle. And there were birds chirping gently in the background. The wind created a constant gentle swish on the other side too. His Dad was outside, some place quiet. Not at some shitty motel getting drunk. Or at some bar trynna hook up with someone.

Dean swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “So.” How was he gonna ask? “Um– about– about Mom–” Dad remained silent on the other side. “Dad– I– I don’t know how–” He kicked a pebble. He felt like a little boy asking his Dad how to put on a condom because he wanted to hook up with his Math teacher in middle school.

“Take your time, Dean.” His voice was deep and heavy and raw.

Dean nodded, before remembering that Dad couldn’t see him. “Okay.”

Talk. He was supposed to talk. It was supposed to help everything. Solve nearly all of his problems. That’s what everyone said. That’s what she said.

“I miss her.” He finally managed.

“Me too, son.”

A little bit more silence. “Everything reminds me of her.”

“Okay.”

Dean inhaled shakily. “How did you deal with– Mom’s death? You know?”

He heard his Dad sigh heavily. “In the beginning… I didn’t. I had you and Sammy to take care of. Mary did so much for you two, and I… I could do so little.” Dean had never heard his Dad talk about that before. “Kept you two fed and clothed best I could.” Dean remembered his Dad’s sad face when his worn out pajamas ripped, the one lone toy truck that had made it out because it was in the Impala, 6 month old Sammy screaming in his crib for the mother he would never have ever again. “I tried to keep it together Dean but I couldn’t…”

“That’s when you started hunting?”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

Dean clammed up at the authoritative tone. “Sorry, sir.”

His Dad gave a hum of approval. “I started hunting. Figured revenge was the best way. Azazel was gonna come for our family sooner or later.” Why them? Dean held his tongue as his Dad continued. “I taught you how to protect yourself. How to protect Sammy. Because if there’s one thing Azazel wanted more than Mary… it was Sammy.” But why? “Once I did that… I did whatever the fuck I wanted. Anything to get Mary off my mind. The booze helped, the whores in the back of bars did wonders.” His Dad chuckled before becoming serious again. “But you’ve tried all that already.”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly… the only reason I kept going was you and Sammy. I would have killed myself a long time ago if you boys weren’t dependent on me.” Dean closed his eyes. His Dad wasn’t lying. He knew the feeling now. He wanted to kill himself too. But did he have anything to still live for? Dad had Sam. Sam had Jess. Bobby had that dog. Where did he fit in? “When I realised you two could take care of yourselves… I snapped. Azazel showed up around the same time. So I went after him.” His dad breathed shakily. “Well… things didn’t go as planned. So…” a few voices came and went by. His Dad muttered a soft ‘hi’. Where was he? “I’m visiting her grave today.”

Dean’s heart almost stopped. He, let alone his Dad, never visited his Mom’s grave. “Oh.”

“You wanna…” Dad cleared his throat. “You wanna say hi? I can put you on speaker.” Dean chewed the inside of his cheek. Did he? “Yeah.”

“Hang on.” His Dad fumbled with the phone. “Where the fuck is the speaker button–”

Dean cracked a smile at his Dad’s incompetence with technology. “Son of a bitch… I got it. Say what you want, son.”

“Hi Mom. It's Dean.” No reply. Of course there wasn’t. But it felt nice to say the words out loud. “Uh… It’s going fine.” He blinked away his tears. “And, uh. Sammy’s all grown now. He’s taller than me.” What else did one say to their mom? “I got married. And now I’m a fucking widower.” He laughed at the statement. Him. A widower. Like his Dad. “The world kind of sucks right now. So… wherever you are… I hope it’s better than this hellhole. You wanna talk to Sammy?” No response. His Mom was gone. He heard his Dad pick up the phone and put it back against his ear. He swiped at his wet eyes, refusing to let the tears make it past his cheeks. “Thanks, Dad.” He felt like a little boy indeed.

“Yeah. I'll call Sammy in a bit. You take care, Dean.” A slight pause. “All of us still need you.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

Notes:

Quiz tomorrow. Birthday party and volunteering event and a banquet all in one set of weekends. I'm gonna die. too much social interaction. so expect the next chapter super late byeeee.

Chapter 31: Dead Men Don't Speak

Summary:

"The pink pastel fabric on her was dyed red with blood. If she really was human, then he wished the blood wasn’t her own. Her feet were bare but there were nail claw marks all the way up her ankles and the threads of her gown were coming loose. Her hair was in tangles and her hands hadn’t stopped shaking. But mostly it was the silence that scared him. She’d never been so silent."

Notes:

I'M BACK. WITH A CHAPTER. This was so hard to write I kid y'all not. There may or may not be continuity errors just because of how long it took to write this. I may or may not have lost a slight grip on everyone's character traits as well. I literally had to go back into fandom wiki to check out everyone's personality and try to keep everything in check. haha... HAVE FUN READING

“Father.”

They stepped up to the man typing away on the laptop. The man looked up, his glasses almost sliding off his nose. “I thought I said I never wanted to see you again.”

“I wanted to set things right, Father. I brought her to the world she belonged in–”

“All this happened because you were unable to follow an order.”

“I’m so sorry, Father.”

The man held a finger up and took off his glasses. “I believe you were supposed to be grounded for a while longer. How did you get out?”

“She died.”

Father’s face dawned with realization. “Explains why the blog hasn’t been updated in a while.”

“Father, I can bring her back.”

“Can I even trust you? You couldn’t do a job as simple as sending the right souls to the right universe in the right time period!”

“I have never made a mistake since I was assigned this job, Father.”

“Yes.” Father’s eyes narrowed. “That’s exactly why I grounded you in her soul.” Father sighed. “So many others had to replace you. And, word is, they can’t do it as efficiently as you.”

Their heart soared a little at the praise. “Thank you Father.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Father huffed. “Well, I don’t really care for children that make mistakes.” He waved his hand. “But since you were so good at what you did… I’ll let you do whatever you want as long as you don’t stand in my way. But get out of my office. I need peace and quiet.” And Father buried his nose back into the glowing screen and typing away once more. “I have a deadline to meet.”

They swallowed. No praise. No punishment. They weren’t expecting a passionate teary hug after messing up this bad. But they’d at least… hoped for some kind of reprimand. A yelling. A beating. The belt. A spanking. Something. Anything. But nothing. It was like they didn’t matter. The middle child never mattered.

They gave a nod, more to reassure themself, and walked out the door of the house. They had a job to do.

 

“I can’t believe you actually agreed to this.” Sam said with wonder from the passenger seat.

Dean stared at the silver ring on his left hand. “I mean… It's been three weeks. An unmarried man can’t enter the dating market with a ring on his left hand now can he?” He joked. But it was half hearted.

“I’m proud of you, Dean.” Sam said gently.

Dean scoffed. “I’ve always been better than you, Sam.”

“Uh, sure.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I mean I’m proud of you for taking a step forward.”

They stared out into the graveyard. They’d buried her in the national park in Texas. The place she called home. The place she was always raving about. Hell, they’d gotten married here. And it only felt right that her grave be here too. In the peace and quiet, watching the stars every night.

“I’m starting to regret not giving her a hunter’s funeral.” Dean said softly as he stared at the flowers decorating every single grave.

“I don’t think any one of us could have handled burning her, Dean.” Sam said gently.

Dean looked at his baby brother who was blinking rapidly. No doubt fighting off the waterworks. He nodded. “Guess, you’re right.” He opened the door and got out, reaching for the ring and sliding it around once more. The engravings dug into his finger and he tried to burn the feeling of it into his mind. “Let’s go.”

He began the march up the rocky hillside littered with cacti and desert flowers. The sun beat down on his back, and sweat pooled in every crevice of his body. But the air and ground were fresh, untouched by humans.

He opened the gate to the graveyard and made his way silently to the opposite edge that oversaw a small pond at the foot of the hill. Ducks were swimming there, and a horse riding tour galloped by. One of the kids on a tiny brown horse raised his hand in a wave, and Dean waved back. She had a good view. And shade on her gravestone from a small flowering cactus. Dean had made sure of it.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he said finally to the block of granite. ‘Loving wife, daughter, and sister.’ It read. Sammy had come up with it. The purple ribbon was still tied to the fence closest to her stone, sheltered from the howling night winds and thunderstorms by a rock that jutted over the fence. Jess had said something about a woman always needing a ribbon before tying it off. And Dean had been too preoccupied with his own feelings to argue. Besides, it looked like others had also gained inspiration from the idea. Several other ribbons had been tied next to her proud purple one. Yellow, pink, green, blue– all the colors imaginable. Some had polka dots, some had paw prints. It was the only corner of the graveyard that popped with a variety of colors. The flowers on the graves never lasted long in the heat anyway. “It’s been a while.” He knelt down next to the stone and brushed a hand over the red sand and tiny rocks in front of it. “Mind if I join you?” He crossed his legs and cleared his throat. Talk. she seemed to urge him. “So I looked at the will, and stuff. You got James to do it… that was smart y’know. He knows our circumstances. Didn’t ask too many questions.” He breathed shakily. “I feel like I’m holding everyone back. Sammy’s gonna get a job soon. That kid swears he didn’t take any of your romance books but I saw The Tempting Duchess or something in his bag.” He scoffed a little. “Bobby got a dog… His name’s Rumsfeld. Um… Jess made some changes to that bike of yours… made it so it would fit her better. I know you wouldn’t have minded.” What else? “Dad likes your notes. He carries that thing with his journal these days. And as for me…” He licked his lips. He hadn’t really done anything. “Um… I took care of your will. Signed a bunch of papers. James said he was gonna be able to get them processed within the next month. But hell sweetheart. You left everything to all of us?” He leaned back on his arms. “No chick flick moments. I came here to give this to you.” He grabbed a pocket knife and dug a shallow hole into the hot hard rocky ground. “Figured you might as well keep it.” He cracked a smile as he placed the sticker covered MP3 player carefully in the hole. “Show it off in Heaven or something.” He brushed his hand over it, covering it back up with the dry rocks.

Heavy boots trodded on the ground behind him and Dean tilted his head back. “Dad. You made it.”

The man grunted and stood behind him. “Feel better?”

Dean glanced around to where Sammy was also standing silently, hands deep in his pockets. “Yeah.” It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “She’s happier up there than down here anyway.” Dean paused. “Assuming there even is a Heaven.” Dad said nothing to that, but went oddly quiet. “Does Heaven exist, Dad?”

“I’d… like to think that good people go up there.” the man’s blue eyes crinkled a little bit at the corners. “And the bad people to Hell.”

Dean nodded and walked up to his brother. “Hey,”

“Hey.” Sam smiled. “How’re you feeling?”

“Peachy.” Dean responded. And he wasn’t completely lying this time.

Sam nodded. “Bobby said to tell her he said hi.”

“She ain’t gonna respond but I’ll pass on the message.” Dean turned around to the block of granite. “Bobby said hi!” And to his surprise, like the universe was responding the ribbons blew in the wind. Like they were saying hi back. Dean grinned. “Why don’t we get some grub? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Boys. Wait.”

Dean and Sam turned around at their dad’s voice.

“What’s up, Dad?” Dean asked.

“Come here.” It was his hunting voice. Sam and Dean glanced at each other before walking up to their Dad. “Angela Mason.” The man nodded at the gravestone. “See something odd?”

Dean glanced down. Everything was dead around it. Perfect circle. Not a single cactus, and all the bugs seemed to avoid that spot too.

“Everything’s dead.” Dean responded.

Sam shrugged. “It’s a desert, maybe this one spot didn’t get enough water. So the plants died. Texan weather.”

“And the dryness is making the bugs avoid it too?” Dad raised an eyebrow. Sam frowned. “I think we have a case here, boys.”

 

“Angela Mason. She was a student at the local agricultural college; funeral was three days ago.” Dean said, looking up from the computer. “Unholy ground? Could be the sign of a demonic presence.” He snapped his fingers. “Or the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough.”

“Any family we can talk to?” Dad asked.

Sam nodded. “Her dad works in the town closest to here. A professor for the agricultural branch of some school.”

But he still didn’t believe they had a case.

 

“Remember, Sammy. We’re here on a case. Not trynna pick up hot college chicks.” Dean said even as his eyes followed after a particularly tall blonde with her hair in pigtails.

“Speak for yourself, Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes. “And I’m a loyal man.”

Dean shook his head. “Put a ring on it, already, dude.”

“It’s not that easy.” Sam grumbled.

Dean pushed the door to Dr. Mason’s office open. “Dr. Mason?”

“Yes?” a middle aged man looked up from his desk.

Sam put on a sympathetic smile. “I'm Sam, this is Dean. We were friends of Angela's, we... we wanted to offer our condolences.”

“Please,” the man held out a hand. “Come in.”

Dean closed the door behind him, automatically reaching for a framed picture on the small table beside the door.

“She was beautiful.” Dean said slowly.

“Yes, she was.” Dr. Mason sighed.

Dean’s eyes caught something weird. “This is a weird book.” He picked it out of the bookshelf and thumbed through the pages.

“It's ancient Greek; I teach a course.”

Dean hummed as he continued speaking. “So a car accident, that's, that's horrible.”

“Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh,” the man’s voice trailed off. Dean could sympathise.

“You know, I still phone her. And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh... Family's everything, you know? Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now I-I'm just lost without her.”

“We’re very sorry.” Sam whispered.

 

In the meantime, John was busy exploring Angela’s house. It was a quaint little thing with thin walls, but massive nevertheless. And dead plants. Everywhere. Not a single living thing. Something had gone down here. And it wasn’t human.

He looked around the house going through the rooms, glancing at framed photos, most were of Angela and an older man, definitely her own dad. But there was one that stood out. One frame where Angela was locked in a passionate kiss with another guy. John walked closer to the picture to get a better look at the boy. Dean and Sammy were investigating the dad, he could investigate this boyfriend. But not before snatching up the pink book resting on top of Angela’s bed.

 

John slipped inside Matt’s, Angela’s boyfriend’s apartment, making sure to keep his footsteps light.

The sight of Matt in a pool of blood didn’t even shock him. He was so used to seeing people with their throats slit open. He wanted to believe that this was just some ghost. A simple salt and burn. But it didn’t seem like it based on the situation in the house.

Dead plants. Everywhere. And a goldfish floated unmoving on the top of the water in its tank. It had been dead for a while. John frowned. This was turning out to be a most troublesome case.

 

“Hang on, so Dad wants us to investigate all of Angela’s friends cause some guy couldn’t take care of his plants and fish after his girlfriend just died?” Sam scoffed.

“Come on, dude. You can’t deny it. It’s a little bit kooky. I mean dead plants only in certain areas?”

“Like I said, maybe these guys just couldn’t take care of plants from their depression.”

Dean just shook his head and rang the doorbell to the house.

 

“I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors.” Neil looked skeptically at them from the couch on the other side of the coffee table.

“Oh yeah. Yeah, you talk, we listen. Or maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever jump-starts the healing.” Dean flashed his winning smile.

“Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks.”

“Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?” Sam jumped in.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well, we just wanted to make sure you were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things.”

“Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am. But if Matt killed himself it wasn't 'cause of grief.”

Aha! Dean pressed harder. “No? Then why?”

“It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault and he knew it.”

“How was Matt responsible?”

“Well, she really loved that guy. But the night of the accident she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car. Um, look, I gotta get ready for work, so thanks for the concern, but… seriously, I'll be okay.” Neil stood up firmly and walked out of the living room.

Dean stared at Sam with a raised eyebrow that screamed ‘we told you so’.

 

“Well, that vengeful spirit theory's starting to make a little more sense, I mean, hell hath no fury…” Dean said to Sam as they walked up to the graveyard.

He glanced at the corner were Sharon was buried and blinked in surprise when the purple ribbon on the fence was missing. Huh, the wind must have blown it away. Well, no problem. He could get another one. He focused back on Sam.

“So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?”

“If we burn the bones we can make sure of it.” Dean nodded.

Sam suddenly paused and raised his hands with a nervous laugh. “Burn the bones? Are you high?” His eyes widened when their Dad joined them with three shovels. “Angela died last week!” He said to the two of them.

“So?” Their Dad scoffed.

“So, there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin.”

Dean smirked. “Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?”

…

After a lot of digging, Sam, Dean, and John stood staring at the wooden lid of the now exposed coffin.

“I am not opening that.” Sam shook his head vehemently when his Dad and his brother looked at him. “No way. Nuh uh. This was your idea.”

Sam cheered inside when his dad rolled his eyes and nudged Dean’s shoulder, who grimaced but reached for the lid of the coffin. He held his breath and pushed it open, but nothing.

An empty coffin stared back at the Winchesters.

“They buried the body four days ago.” Dean said blankly.

“I don’t get it.” Sam said in disbelief.

John jumped into the hole they’d dug and squinted. “Flashlight.”

One was passed promptly to him. The older man shone the light onto the walls of the coffin. “Ancient Greek.” John straightened up and pulled himself out of the hole.

“And where have we seen that before?” Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam.

 

“I doubt it’s the professor.” John said when Dean started rambling about the books in the man’s class.

“What do you mean you doubt it’s the professor?” Dean scoffed. “His dead daughter’s coffin is empty, but has an ancient Greek necromancy ritual carved into it– the guy’s a literal Ancient Greek expert and he misses his daughter! It’s perfect.”

John wasn’t sure whether he was liking Dean’s sudden rebellious streak. He’d been fighting with him every step of the way.

“I have to admit, Dad. The professor fits the profile perfectly.” Well great, his youngest son was doubting him as usual.

“Give us one good reason to not go after the crazy dad.” Dean crossed his arms. And now his eldest son was supporting the youngest.

“There’s another guy mentioned in her diary.” John finally said. “This guy was stalking her. Named Neil. That sound familiar?” Sam’s and Dean’s jaws clenched. John continued. “He’s a student in Dr. Mason’s class – one of his top students – second to Angela only.”

Dean blinked. “ That guy? That scrawny four eyes?”

“He did seem a little too casual for someone whose best friend just died.” Sam muttered.

“I’m going after him.” John said, and pushed himself up.

“Wait– what about us?” Dean asked.

“You two need to go look for her other best friend.” John nodded at the diary. “Supposedly Matt was cheating on her with a Lindsey.”

 

“Lindsey, is another classmate of hers. Childhood friends from elementary school.” Sam said as he looked up from the map. “It should be the house right there.”

“This is one hell of a love triangle.” Dean grumbled as he pulled up to the curb.

“You know what love triangles are?” Sam mused as he stared at his older brother.

Dean scoffed. “You’re not the only one that was ever forced to listen to romances.”

“Huh.” Sam tried to hold back a smile. “I didn’t know you actually listened.”

Dean shook his head. “Come on outta there college boy. We have a cheating college girl to check out.”

 

John held a gun up to a shaking Neil’s head. “Where is she?”

“Wh-what?” Neil stammered. “Who?”

“Angela. The dead girl that you brought back from the dead. Where is she?” He made a show of cocking the gun and pressed it harder against the shaking boy’s forehead.

“I-i-i- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do, kid.” John smirked. “I know all about the stalking, the necromancy ritual– I know everything. So tell me. Where is the girl?”

“I- In the basement–” Neil stammered as he started backing away.

John almost laughed. He still had a clear shot to the kid’s head. His survival skills were 0. But then again he did summon a zombie so he probably shouldn’t have expected much. “Take me there.”

 

“AHHHH!” came a scream. Dean and Sam stared at each other for a split second before darting for the front door. Dean tugged on the door handle, not actually expecting it to be unlocked. But surprise. It was.

He twisted the knob and barged in.

“Lindsey!” Sam yelled next to him.

“HELP ME!” shrieked a girl. “Oh my God, she’s gonna kill me! And she’s got a gun!”

Where did the zombie get a gun? Dean pulled out his own gun loaded with silver and headed for the room where the screams were coming from.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

A bloodied Sharon stood over a moaning and groaning Angela with a gun in her hand. Her eyes were wide when they met his. And Dean felt his world shatter.

“Holy shit.” Sam gasped beside him. And Dean could hear his brother stumbling from the shock. He would have helped him, but it was all he could do to not collapse himself.

Angela’s grin turned wicked, and with a snarl she ripped at the pastel pink nightgown he himself had buried his own wife in, and Sharon’s focus snapped back to the undead chick at her feet. She kicked at the much paler woman but she went crashing to the floor herself. And then she gave a gasp of pain.

That snapped Dean out of it. He lifted his gun and aimed square at Angela, shooting at her until her claws came out bloody from Sharon’s skin. She bared her teeth at him, but ran for the window when she realised she was outnumbered by much more.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” Lindsey repeated as she sobbed on the floor, clutching at her throat.

He should have helped her. Should have gone after the undead woman running amok on the streets, or at least shot the one on the floor. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Sweetheart…?” He said tentatively. Was it really her? Just a hallucination? But he wasn’t sure if three people and a positively undead woman could hallucinate another undead woman all at the same time. Every muscle in his body screamed from how tense they are. His heart screamed at him to go help her up and kiss her in spite of every single cell in his brain yelling at him to shoot her and immobilise her. Because the dead were supposed to stay dead.

She gasped as she lifted her head up. He swallowed. Was she gonna lunge at him? Try to kill him? He clenched his gun.

“Dean… is that…?” Sam’s voice was shaking.

“Don’t know.” His voice came out shaky too. Was she human? The same one he’d buried? A skinwalker? Some new kind of monster? A zombie that he needed to gank? He clenched his gun, he wasn’t sure if he could shoot her. But if she tried to hurt Sam– then he would.

“Sharon?” Sam whispered softly.

That seemed to break something in her and she started crying. They were silent hiccupping sobs. And her hands came up to wipe at them. A line of snot connected her nose and hands. He would have been disgusted by it. But it was her, and there was something beautiful in the way she broke down so easily right in front of him and Sam. He’d seen her bottom lip tremble when she’d been fighting Angela, but she only started crying at the sight of him.

Sam scrambled up beside him and gripped his arm. Dean stiffened. “Is she–”

“I don’t know.” Dean forced his voice to remain steady. “I don’t know, Sam.”

“Oh my God, oh my God.” the other woman in the room continued mumbling in a panic.

Dean steeled himself. “Sam,” he tapped his brother’s arm. “Get her out of here.”

“What?” Sam’s answer was airy.

Dean lowered his voice. “Sam, get Lindsey out of here.”

“Lindsey– oh.” Sam shivered as he got back to business mode. “Right.”

Dean watched Sam leave out of the corner of his eye, but he refused to move his focus from the crumpled woman still hiccupping on the floor. “Christo.” he whispered. She looked up and blinked in surprise. Not a demon. “Are you a shapeshifter?”

She just kept staring. Her sobbing and hiccups had stopped, but the tears were still silently streaming down her face. She didn’t move.

Okay, uh… He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and crouched down to her level. “Hey,”

She reached out a hand but quickly took it back. What the hell was going on? “Okay, listen to me. I’m not gonna shoot.” He reassured her. “You don’t hurt me. I don’t shoot.” He still didn’t know what she was. He slipped out a silver bullet from his gun and rolled it to her. “Pick that up for me would you?”

She looked down at it with reddened eyes and brushed her small hands over it. Her skin didn’t burn. Not a shapeshifter. So was she a zombie? Where’d she gotten the gun? Was it the one they’d buried her with?

“Dean.” Sam said as he staggered in once again. He got down to his knees next to him and stared. “So… what are we thinking?”

“I don’t think she’s a zombie.” Dean said truthfully. “She’s not pale as Angela is.”

“Then… how…”

“Don’t know.” Dean whispered. “I don’t know.”

 

The basement was empty. John rolled his eyes. “So, where is she, boy?”

“I-i-i don’t know–” the boy trembled. His glasses had trailed down to the tip of his nose, hanging on by the thin rope that was slung over his neck. “Holy shit. Angela– I told her not to leave again–”

John scoffed. So he did bring her back from the dead. And knew she was running around wild on the streets. “Do you know where she could be, right now?” The kid opened his mouth and closed it back again like a wish. “Hm?”

The boy shuddered and stammered. “She usually comes back by morning!”

Uh-huh… “Well I need you to bring her to her grave.”

“What?!” Neil looked horrified. “No! Absolutely not! I brought her back after so many attempts… she’s fine!”

“She killed Matt.” John said finally.

“No.” Neil shook his head but his hands were shaking. Clearly he was in denial. “She wouldn’t. My Angela is a sweet little thing. Always smiling, always happy, and so so kind.”

“Keep talking and I’ll shoot.” John threatened again. “Bring. Her. Back. To. Her. Grave.”

Neil whimpered at the sight of the gun again and weakly nodded his head. “O-okay, fine. Just please don’t kill me–”

 

John sat in his truck, with his arms crossed and tapping his fingers, waiting for any of the three younger men to show up, preferably with that undead girl. He squinted slightly when headlights shone through the dark and burned into his eyes. He knew the silhouette of the car. It was his own Impala, well, Dean’s Impala.

And out of it came, three, not two, figures. Had they gotten the undead woman?

The car rumbled to a stop, but Dean’s figure didn’t move further from the car, he was holding the third figure much closer, like he was… No, he must be imagining it. The night was dark after all. The moon wasn’t up, and the stars didn’t light them up enough for him to see clearly.

He slipped out of his truck and landed on his feet with a thud. He straightened up and looked up as Sam approached him.

“Dad…” he whispered. His eyes were raw and red. “Can people really come back from the dead?” he looked back at Dean who refused to move away.

“Well. that girl certainly did.” John exhaled. “It’s not natural.”

“No, I mean like… come back from the dead… as a human…?”

“If I knew how, you boys would have a mother. But…” John pressed his lips tightly. “What’s dead should stay dead.”

Sam’s face paled. “Dad, are there really no exceptions…?”

John looked again at the Impala. He was starting to get impatient. “What are you talking about?”

“Like someone coming back as a human– from the dead–”

“Sam, it’s not natural.” John glared. “Why are you—” It was then that he spotted the small woman being held in place by Dean. And it wasn’t the undead woman he was hoping for. Or maybe he was? “Son of a bitch. Fuck no.”

He marched towards his eldest son. “Dean. Is that—”

“I’m ’fraid so.” Dean's voice trembled at the end.

John took a deep breath. His heart was stammering. People didn’t just come back from the dead. And yet here she was, standing in front of him, shaking like a leaf, clinging onto Dean and shrinking like she was scared the world was going to tear her apart. “She can’t be human. This isn’t natural.”

“She is Dad.” Dean said, a little defiantly. “I know for a fact she’s human. I mean we’ve done all the tests. Holy water, salt, silver, iron. We checked her mouth, no fangs. And she bleeds blood just like any of us.”

John clenched his jaw. “This isn’t nat-”

“Nothing about our lives is natural, Dad.” It was Sam who spoke this time. “She’s human. And she’s back. We don’t know how. But she is.”

John had to fight every instinct to not drench the already shivering girl in cold holy water. “You can’t come back from hell as a human. All the souls we’ve seen so far have become demons from their time in Hell.”

“Hell?” Dean almost shrieked. “What do you mean hell?!”

John sighed. “When you make a deal with a demon and your soul gets collected you go to hell.”

“And you let her?!” Sam shoved his shoulder. “You knew what she was getting into, and you did nothing to stop her.”

John’s anger rose. “I’m the one who was willing to go to hell so that she lived. How is any of this my fault?!”

“Because you tried to summon a demon and make a deal!”

He stepped threateningly towards Sam who refused to back down. “I didn’t tell her to go and sacrifice herself.”

“Can you two stop fighting please?!” Dean finally snagged Sam off. “She’s already scared. You’re making it worse.”

John huffed as he turned his attention to his daughter. The pink pastel fabric on her was dyed red with blood. If she really was human, then he wished the blood wasn’t her own. Her feet were bare but there were nail claw marks all the way up her ankles and the threads of her gown were coming loose. Her hair was in tangles and her hands hadn’t stopped shaking. But mostly it was the silence that scared him. She’d never been so silent. “Did she say what happened?”

“She hasn’t spoken a word.” Dean answered. “She’s been quiet the whole time.”

“Her vocal cords’ damaged?”

“I don’t think so.” Sam answered. “I checked down her throat. Everything seemed normal. She can make sounds. I think it’s more psychological.”

“What’re those marks on her hands?” John pointed to the red handprints encircling both her wrists. It was like something had gripped her with their burning hands.

It was then that her eyes widened. She brought them up close to her face and her eyes brimmed with tears once again.

 

“Djibril.” She whispered.

“What?” Dean was immediately at her side, pulling her hands away to look at her face.

“The angel.” She gasped. “They got me out.”

Dean turned to look at his dad. “Angels?”

“I didn’t know they existed.” His dad was breathless.

“If demons exist then surely angels exist too.” Sam swallowed.

Dean refused to take his eyes off the small woman in front of him. She was crying again. But these were full blown wails that pierced through the silence of the Texan desert. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest when she made a grabbing motion towards him. Even with all her sweat and snot and tears he pulled her against him.

“It’s okay sweetheart.” Hell. She’d been to hell. And back.

“Dean.” She whimpered. “Oh Dean.”

“Yeah yeah. It’s me. It’s me, baby.” He choked on his own words.

He buried his face in her neck, and held her with all the strength he could muster without crushing her. Her arms felt thinner than ever when she hung off his shoulders. She felt weightless. And her heart was beating as fast as his. And her sobs wracked both their bodies.

“Let’s give them space.” He heard his Dad whisper.

“But Dad—”

“You’ll have time to hug her later. Come on.”

“I haven’t seen her in—”

“Son. Leave them alone.”

He heard them walk away with Sam still grumbling and his dad still nudging him alone. Dean had never been more grateful for his Dad’s stubbornness.

“Dean.” She whispered once again into his shoulder. But this time she pulled back. And fuck he’d never felt the urge to kiss her so bad. But should he? So as always, like he always did. He asked. “May I?”

Her bottom lip trembled but her head bobbed a yes. That was all he needed to seal her lips with his. Her whimpers vibrated against his mouth and she sniffled as she tried to catch her breath. And honestly? He needed the breaks too.

But then a different kind of scream ripped through her hiccups and sobs.

“HELP!” A man cried. “SHE’S GONNA KILL ME!”

It was Neil. And there was only one she that would even want to kill him.

“Angela.” Dean kept his hold on his wife’s waist as he grabbed the door to the impala. He wrenched it open. “Get inside. We have an undead.”

Her lips parted. Nothing came out. She scowled. Was this another episode in the show? He watched as she made her way to the trunk. She lifted it up with a small jump. She sniffled as she dug through the mess of the trunk. She shot him a glare.

“Hey I just haven’t had time to clean.”

Yells came up again followed by gunshots. Dean slid his gun out of his back pocket and stepped closer. He was gonna shoot that bitch if she got anywhere close to them. He could see his brother and his dad shoot at the zombie bitch— no wait zombitch yeah that sounded cool. He fought a smile at the cool new word he’d just come up with. The woman scrambling in his trunk would enjoy it.

She handed him a silver stake. And a hammer.

With their line of work it wasn’t too surprising what she wanted them to do with those. Their dad must have known already too, considering they were already in the graveyard.

“Nail that bitch in the coffin?” Dean asked anyway.

She blinked. Confirmation enough. “Let’s get this over with.

 

First Person P.O.V.

I was out. I was out of that hell hole. Literally. I ran my hands over the blistering marks over my wrists. So I wasn’t dreaming. I’d thought it was a hallucination at first. I’d had so many while I was down there… and every single time, if I spoke, then it was like some spell would be broken and the screams and cackles of hell would spill into my mind. I’d learned to keep quiet in them. Just watching silently as my parents and my siblings and cousins walked around me, living their lives. With the occasional paper thrown in my direction and the occasional kick I delivered to their knees. And then there had been Sam, Bobby and John mingling in with my family, albeit awkwardly. But it had always been Dean who I couldn’t ignore. I loved everyone, they were my rocks, the reason I hadn’t killed myself a long time ago. But Dean… it was always that distant look on his face, the haunted look in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the downturn of the corners of his lips when he thought no one was looking that made me want to say his name. Because even in my dreams he was struggling. And even if it was just the call of his name from my lips that made him turn his head, for his eyes to light up with joy, his jaw to unclench into a lazier posture, and his mouth to fall into a lazy smirk, I would do it. Even if it meant facing hell. Because Dean Winchester needed me as much as I needed everyone in my life. I loved the man to a fault and it was going to be my undoing.

I planted my foot onto the boot of the car and used my arms for extra leverage to climb onto it. I made my way to the roof of Baby and gripped the sniper rifle I’d grabbed. I laid down flat on the roof and positioned myself as well as I could. It wasn’t hard to distinguish the undead woman from all the other men. I had a clear shot of the undead chick. I already forgot her name.

The coldness of Baby’s metal seeped through my nightgown— who buried someone in their pajamas? Not like I was gonna complain, I was very comfortable, but they should have at least given me a bra and a pair of shorts on the side even if they weren’t gonna put it on. I was pretty sure I’d flashed a bunch of desert animals and insects the pink seashells of my underwear when I’d tried to make sense of my seemingly hallucinated world. And that poor girl in the house I’d stumbled into with a gun. I hadn’t exactly tried to be modest in a dream and just hiked up that gown to climb over the window sill. But it turned out that zombie woman got more of an eyeful. I got the woman in scope and rested my finger on the trigger. Yeah she needed to die.

“D-don’t shoot me please.” Stammered the thin man with glasses sliding off his nose. Nerd. I said that like I wasn’t one myself.

I was too tired to respond to him. My body felt like new thanks to the angel's healing touch but my mind felt like it was being weighed down. I could still hear the screams. And the pain. Oh god the pain. My eyes burned from the memory and my throat threatened to give out.

Breathe.

In, two, three. Out, two, three.

I blinked away the flashing images of hell and forced my finger to steady itself in front of the trigger.

The nerdy man had chosen to hide behind the car, away from the zombie’s line of sight. Wimp. Wasn’t he the one that brought her back?

When the zombie woman tried to rip off Sam’s neck I shot. It hit her square in the head and she stumbled. She was right next to her open grave. Alright. One more well aimed shot and success… she sprang back up and glanced in my direction. Her face was scary. But nothing in this world could be scarier than seeing Alastair’s face every single day and having him ask me if I wanted to torture souls instead. I shot three more times and she dropped. She fell. She fell past the open grave. Through the scope I could see John slamming the grave shut. And Dean slammed the silver stake straight through the wood. Sam brought up the hammer and the stake was hammered through the coffin wood and her corpse. She was dead. For good. And hopefully she stayed dead.

But what about me?

 

When the Winchesters came back, Sam immediately lifted me up against him. I grunted as his brown bangs rustled against my own black hair.

“Good to have you back.” He muttered. “I missed you so much.”

“Yeah me too.” I patted his back. The poor kid refused to let go. “Want a bedtime story?” I joked.

He sniffled. “As long as it’s not the one where the thief slips on cow dung and has a dagger up his foot.”

I huffed. “Excuse you. That’s my favorite one.”

He laughed to himself and finally pulled himself away from me. “Jess would be excited.”

“I bet.” Dean grumbled from the side. “I did all that paperwork for nothing.”

“This angel… where is he now?” John, of course, had his own agenda. He wanted Mary back.

Sadly I had no idea how to get her back. Amara did in the later seasons but as of right now… especially considering the very different route the story was progressing in, and with the presence of an angel I’d never heard about, it was the truth when I answered “I don’t know.”

His blue eyes turned down slightly at the corners. “Son of a bitch.” He ran a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “I genuinely don’t know.”

“It’s fine. I’m glad you’re back. Bobby would be happy.” And then he did what he did best. Walk away.

“He’s walking away.” Sam’s tone was angry.

“Leave him Sammy.” Dean said gently. “He has his own stuff to deal with.”

Dean always had been more sympathetic to their Dad’s issues. I wanted to cry for the man again.

“So.” Dean eyed me up and down. “We can’t have you in that.”

“My burial clothes?” I looked down at my bleeding feet. I was honestly surprised I hadn’t been filled with silver bullets by John. “No kidding.”

 

“I don’t remember anything from hell.” I lied. A blatant lie. The same one Dean would give to Sam a couple years later. “I think I’m just shaken up from climbing out of my grave. I thought I’d been buried alive.”

Dean gave me an askance glance but he didn’t ask any more. Sam had a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he didn’t press any further either. I appreciated the lack of questions but a part of me also wished I could talk about it.

The car ride to the motel was filled with noise. Sam’s excited talks from the backseat as he leaned over to the front were pleasant. Dean’s drumming to some rock song on the radio was nice too. What wasn’t nice was the noise in my head that refused to go away. Every time I blinked I could see the bloody pits of hell where souls were tortured day in and day out. It hurt. My soul hurt. I didn’t know how I knew it was my soul because the soul wasn’t anything physical nothing you’re supposed to feel. And yet here I was, in agony, from something that Dean had dealt with for 40 years and Sam for 120. And John for goodness how long.

I forced a smile and nodded along to Sam. Dean kept drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and John continued driving his truck in front in that steady but definitely over the speed limit rhythm. I was home, in a sense of the word. But it sure didn’t feel like it.

 

Sam waved goodbye to go and retire in his own motel room for the night– or whatever was left of it– albeit very reluctantly. Dean and I had to convince him to call Jess to even get him to relax. The poor kid was shuffling around the room trying to make dinner or something and clean up the bathroom. Quite frankly, with the state I was in, I didn’t even care that the motel room looked worse than what you would have expected from three grieving men. John was putting away the nerdy guy in his own house. And Dean… Dean took

Dean finished the last of the wrappings on my legs. He looked up at my through those beautiful long lashes from his kneeling position on the floor. God he was so beautiful. And how I’d missed that lovely shade of green. “These bandages should hold.” Dean said as he ran his hands up and down my bandaged calves. The warmth felt like it was seeping in from his hands even through the thick white layers. “Does it hurt, sweetheart?”

Oh shit. Even that made me wanna cry.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Dean immediately got up and his hands rested on the slight dip of my waist. “What’s wrong?”

I was acutely aware of just how bad I was shaking under the steadiness of his palms. Every breath shook me to the core and Dean just kept trying to hold everything together.

This beautiful man never let anyone fall apart on his watch. And that was probably why I loved him so much.

“Dean…” I gasped.

“Yeah,” he brushed a hand through my hair. “I’m here.”

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” I grabbed his face and pulled him closer. He wasn’t going anywhere. No matter how many times I said his name, he stayed. This wasn’t an illusion. This was him. This was really him. “Oh God, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah, hey, hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” He sat down next to me and pulled me in.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and dug my face into his shoulder. It smelled like blood, like Hell, but it also smelled like home. Gunpowder, oil, cheap gas station deodorant, leather. Everything that I’d learned to call home. “Dean.” I choked out one more time and he hummed shakily.

“Yeah, yeah.” The rough stubble on his face scratched my forehead as he tried to soothe whatever it was that had spooked me. But the thing was… nothing he did was going to make the pain go away.

 

Third Person P.O.V.

Dean held her tight as her breathing slowly grew even. Still shaky, still trembling, but he was pretty sure she wasn’t going anywhere again. He’d changed her into one of his flannels. And she’d very reluctantly, with a lot of glaring and a lot of complaining, stepped into one of his clean boxers for the night. He was gonna have to ask his Dad or Sam to bring her some clothes later in the morning. Though she’d acted like she was fine, he could tell her expressions were exaggerated. The smiles a little too wide, the angry voice a little too angry, and the whines a little too whiny than he’d ever heard from her.

But she’d insisted in front of Sam that she was fine. And he was going to let her have that. Whatever had happened to her, she didn’t want Sammy to know. He was fine with that. He only wished that she would tell him.

As her body finally fell slack against him, he lifted her legs onto the bed and maneuvered her into a comfortable sleeping position. On her right. That’s how she liked to sleep.

He pretended to ignore the fearful sweat that clung to her skin and soaked the last clean flannel he owned, along with her erratic heart rate. Not even a hand on her waist or a pleading request to her adorable ears was enough to calm her down. Yeah… he was glad Sammy wasn’t seeing her like this. He would have panicked.

But honestly? He was panicking himself.

His eyes started to droop, but he forced them back open. He should sleep, he really should. He saw the text from Bobby saying they were to come back as soon as they were ready. And the other text from James expressing his happiness and that he was going to handle all the legal paperwork. He heard his Dad trudge down the motel hallway as he returned. He heard his brother’s voice die down after an excited chatter with Jess on the other side. He saw the sun rise up. And he’d probably cleaned and recleaned all the guns they owned three times and more. But he didn’t fall asleep.

He reached for another bottle on the table, but then he heard that quiet whisper. “Dean…” his name. She called his name even in her sleep.

He put the beer down and placed a hand again on her tear stained cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, baby I’m here.” Because at least she was here, speaking his name. Because dead men didn’t speak. But she did. And she was alive.

Notes:

If yall spotted mistakes lmk. I wrote this for over a month. I died. I failed school. I'm gonna get disowned (if my parents check my grades) and I'm broke. And my workplace changed their required hours from 24 hours per month to 48 per month so now I have four 12 hour shifts a month and- anyway it's a lot. I also got summer classes /3. And no I never did speak with the hot guy. I forgot he existed until I started writing this A/N-

Chapter 32: Simon Says

Summary:

“I’m coming too.” Jess suddenly said.
“What?” Sam snapped back up to her. “But Jess, what about your job?”
“Sammy I can’t do this anymore.” Her bottom lip trembled.
“Let’s give the lovebirds some space.” Dean muttered in my ear and tugged me away from them. “Should we bring Jess along?” He searched my face for an expression.
“I don’t know.” I answered. I really had no idea. Hell I didn’t even know how this was gonna go. Was this even an episode?

Notes:

Wrote half of this while cleaning up a patients pee off the floor.
WARNINGS:
1. Idk terrible descriptions of depression? I tried I really did. I followed my own depressive episodes for this one.
2. Trauma? I asked a friend on how to write a traumatized character and she just told me one word “angst” so angst ig. I tried. Don’t kill me pls.

Simon Says

“Bobby…” I groaned for the millionth time. “I’m fine.”

“You’re looking a little too fine, which is what bothers me.” Bobby pointed out. “Your skin’s never been that smooth, or clear.”

Rumsfeld, the energetic little Rottweiler puppy, whined as if in agreement. I patted his head and scratched that one spot under his ears.

“Can a girl not enjoy acne free skin for a day?” I scoffed. “Besides… The scars are still there. It’s not like I have brand new skin.” Though the ones I’d gotten from injuries had completely healed. I brushed my hand just below my hairline. The raised scar from the time my brother smashed my skull open was still there. Oddly enough, that was the only scar I wanted remaining. The brat had been two when he’d done it. All because I’d smacked his leg for a turn with the toy train… I enjoyed his guilty face afterwards though, and the fact that he’d never tried to get physical with anyone after that.

“Just sayin’.” Bobby shrugged. “It ain’t normal.”

“Yeah, you could say that again. I dug out of my own grave.” I looked at my chipped fingernails from when I’d scratched at the wooden cover. New nail was starting to grow back, but the tips still stung like hell. “Did John say anything?”

“As far as I’m aware, no.” Bobby sat down across from me on the overcrowded kitchen table. “That son of a bitch disappeared again.”

I reached for my cup of coffee. “Sounds like him, alright.” But what was he doing? What was that man even thinking? I hated that I had no idea what that guy was doing because of the fact that I’d somehow kept him alive. “Dean and Sam?”

“Comin’ back tonight.” He nodded to his phone. “You could take that one. And just buy a new phone.”

“Have you seen the prices of those things?” I shook my head. “Besides I’m waiting for your current plan to expire so I can get on the family rate. It’ll be like 2 dollars cheaper than if I got it separately.”

“So until then, you’re gonna keep asking me like a tape record when the boys will be back?” He raised an eyebrow.

I gave him my best pout. “Maybe.” Truth be told. I just didn’t have any motivation to do anything. Everything still felt like a dream. Waking up in my bed, surrounded by my toy animals, handcrafted blankets, tiny little trinkets Sammy had done his best to try and match whatever I gave him.

Dean’s ring was gentle around my finger. I brought it up to the sweat pooling under my nose, relishing the slight cool against my skin. “Did y’all tear down the AC while I was gone?”

Bobby snorted. “You were the only one that struggled without an AC. Us real men don’t need that around.”

“But clearly, empty beer bottles and undone dishes in the sink and an overflowing pile of laundry in the washing machine are a requirement.”

He rolled his eyes again before standing up and going over to his desk instead. “Again. You’re the only one who does that stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” I rolled up my imaginary sleeves and got to work. I’d had enough of a break over the past week. Things in this house needed straightening.

 

It was midnight by the time I finished cleaning. I grabbed the millionth trash bag and hauled it out the front door. Bobby had passed out about an hour earlier, his mouth slightly open and I’d only managed to cover half his body with a blanket because he kept throwing it off of him. Rumsfeld kept him company on his legs, gnawing on a hand-knitted blanket even in his sleep. I shivered in the cold South Dakota night air, but it felt nice. It was different from the burning pits of hell.

An engine rumbled down the road and I knew exactly whose car it was.

The sleek Impala pulled into the salvage yard and came to a stop right in front of me. Rock music poured through the windows that were soon cranked down on the driver’s side.

“Hey,” Dean leaned out with a lopsided smile. “Glad to see you’re still here.” His eyes travelled down my figure and whistled. “Barefoot in pajamas holding a trash bag and yet the hottest thing I’ve seen all day.”

“You know what else was hot? The sun.” I looked up and squinted. “Right now it’s the stars I guess.” I was sleepy, I was rambling absolute nonsense. And yet, Dean grinned like it was the best joke he’d ever heard. “Case go well?”

He shrugged and turned off Baby’s engine. “Yeah.” He got out of the car and tugged on the thin cotton fabric barely covering my goosebumped skin. “Where’s my ‘welcome home honey’ kiss?”

I laughed at his cheeky expression. “Since when have we done that?”

He shrugged. “We could start now.”

Yeah, well I wasn’t gonna complain about that. I took a step towards him to close the gap. He was warm when his hands pulled me up against him.

“Welcome home Dean.” I breathed against his lips.

“Yeah,” His eyes sparkled under the moonlight. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

His kisses were like heaven. He sucked and pressed and gave everything he had into them.

“I missed this.” he muttered when I leaned back to take a breath.

“Me too.” I licked my lips and shivered at how sensitive they felt. “Where’s Sammy?”

“Off to Jess’. Again. He caught a bus from where we were.”

“You drove alone?” I scanned him up and down. He looked fine. Exhausted. But fine. And happy. Happy to see me. I felt giddy. I blamed the lack of sleep for the crazy grin I knew I was grinning.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh,” He rocked back and forth on his boots as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Up for a road trip?”

I blinked in surprise. “To where?” If it was a case, then I was itching for one. “I have to tell Bobby if we’re gonna be off on something.”

His eyes grew wide. “Son of a bitch. He’s gonna kill me.”

I laughed and pushed him along to the door. “Come on, big guy, we both know Bobby wouldn’t.”

“Oh yeah?” He said incredulously. “He’s threatened Dad with a shotgun. What’s stopping him from shooting me?”

“Me.” I pushed the door open and tapped Bobby’s shoulder. He was still snoring. “Bobby.” I said gently. “Hey, Bobby.” The man barely stirred. “Bobby!” I said a little louder.

And the punch was instant. His fists shot out of reflex and I ducked low to dodge. “Whoah, just me, Bobby.”

“Balls.” he pushed himself up.

Rumsfeld whined at the movement. But with a generous lick of his snout he fell right back asleep.

“Good boy…” Bobby mumbled before turning to me. “What?” His eyes trailed up and lit up. “Dean. How was the drive?”

Oh, right. I should have asked him that. I’d been too excited to see him to ask him questions.

“It was fine. Thanks.” he chewed his bottom lip. “So, Bobby…” He looked at me for help. “I was gonna take Sharon out to Jess’. She said she wants to see her again, but she can’t take time off work and–”

Bobby scoffed. He looked at me. “And what’d you say?”

“I’m fine with it.” I straightened up. “Lemme go get changed and pack a bag. I’ll be down in a bit.” I held back a yawn. “But do we have to leave now, Dean? You could catch a nap.”

“You sayin’ that cause you stayed up all night?” He whistled when he finally caught sight of the much cleaner ground floor. “I mean I guess you did some work.”

“Yeah, cause none of you guys did.”

“Should you even be up doing all that?”

“Not like she was gonna listen to reason.” Bobby stood up and covered Rumsfeld with the blanket. The puppy opened an eye, licked his paw once, and went right back to sleep. “Need help packing a bag?”

“Not really.” I headed for the stairs. “I’ll be quick.” Halfway up I turned around to look at Dean still on the landing. “You sure you wanna leave now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He gave a small smile before raising an eyebrow at Bobby. “Say, you got any beers?”

“You’re not drinking before you drive that girl. You can have coffee instead…”

“Come on Bobby…”

I let the two men have their little back and forth downstairs and walked into my room. I reached for the dusty suitcase below the bed and pulled it out with a grunt. Damn thing was heavy even when it was empty. I unzipped it and stared at the drawers with my clothes and the closet that was close to overflowing.

I opened every single one and stared at everything in them. All at once. It was overwhelming. So many clothes. Shirts of all kinds in all kinds of colours, shorts, skirts, long, short, jeans, denim, jorts, three quarters, cardigans, flannels, tank tops, turtlenecks, dresses, summer dresses, cocktail dresses, leopard print–

I felt dizzy. There was so much. I owned so much. But I hadn’t touched any of these for twenty years. I’d spent twenty years in hell. Stripped of everything I loved, everything I owned. I only saw them in dreams and hallucinations – forced and not – but sitting here feeling the different fabrics under my fingers felt strangling.

I gasped for breath and pushed all of the drawers closed. I kicked the closet doors closed, cringing when the doors closed a little louder than expected.

“Everything okay up there?” Bobby called.

“Need help?” Dean added.

“No, I’m fine!” I forced my voice to remain steady. “Just closed the doors too hard!”

“If you say so!” Bobby said. And I heard him go back to idle chatter with Dean.

That was a close one.

I stared at the suitcase and closed it back up. I reached for a smaller duffel bag instead. I threw in the bare minimum, an extra pair of shoes, and obviously my toothbrush and one new tube of toothpaste. I knew for a fact that Dean was going to run out and try to go a few days without brushing.

I tossed on a jacket and lifted the bag onto my shoulder. “I’m done.” I announced as I carefully walked down the stairs.

Dean grinned. “Awesome. I’ll get the rest.”

“The rest?” What did he mean by ‘the rest’?

He blinked, confused. “The rest of your bags. Obviously. Unless there’s something you don’t want me touchin’.”

“It’s just this.” I motioned to the one on my shoulder. “You don’t have to go back up again.”

Dean’s smile faltered.

“But you’re gonna go back up to change right?” Bobby asked. “There’s no way you’re walking out in a nightgown with that flimsy jacket on.

I looked down at my attire. “I think it’s fine. Nothing can be seen.” I spun around to let them look. I raised my arms. “Can it?”

Bobby shook his head. “At least wear leather. That cotton’s too thin. You’ll get a cold.”

Dean’s hand landed around my waist. “You wanna wear mine?”

“Take your flirting elsewhere.” Bobby scoffed. “And no. go back up and change, Sharon.”

I frowned. “You don’t get to–”

“I know. I don’t control your body or whatever. But men outside don’t care.”

“Dean’ll be with me.” I really didn’t wanna change. It felt like I had no energy.

“Dean’s different.”

I dropped the duffel bag and scowled at Bobby. “I can defend myself.”

“But it won’t stop them from looking at you in that awful creepy manner.” Bobby looked past my shoulder, no doubt asking silently for help from Dean.

“He’s right, Sharon.” Dean said gently. “With the number of pee breaks you need on a drive–”

“Shut up.” I snapped. He was irritating me.

“Sharon.” Bobby said sternly. Great, now Bobby was irritating me too. Sadly, I knew what he meant.

“Fine, I’ll wear something different.” I spat.

He sighed, finally. “I don’t want you hurt.”

I knew what he meant. The world wasn’t gonna be kind to a woman looking defenseless in a gas station or a motel. I could fight off punches, I could spit at people who stared too long. And Dean would back me up through everything. But it wouldn’t stop the eyes from staring, wouldn’t stop the people from thinking. And if someone touched me wrong… the last thing I wanted was people telling me it was because I didn’t dress right. Why the fuck was I even thinking about that right now? I dragged my feet up the stairs and locked myself in the bathroom.

“Something’s wrong, Bobby.” I heard Dean say downstairs. They probably thought they were being quiet, but the floors were thinner than they thought.

“I know.” Bobby responded. “I thought getting out of the house would do her good.”

“Do you have her knitting or crocheting or whatever?”

“She hasn’t touched them for more than five minutes a day.”

I closed my eyes as they kept talking. They were pointing out everything that was wrong. Something was wrong with me. And I didn’t know what. I should have been happy to be back on Earth. Happy that I was with people that cared and would do anything to keep me safe. But I wasn’t. The nightmares didn’t stop, the shadows didn’t stop sneering, the screams didn’t stop echoing and that goddamn stupid command. ‘Say yes,’.

“No.” I whispered to the sink. “No.” I was never gonna say yes. Not even to the illusion of Dean sliding a ring onto my finger, not even the sight of Sammy begging me to read a book to him. Not even to Bobby asking me if the coffee was right– Hell even John asking me if it would be the right thing to do to apologise to Dean and Sam. “No, no.”

I swiped at my nose and washed away whatever tears had started running down my cheeks. Dean was still waiting.

I somehow managed to slip into a long loose skirt and threw on a baggy crop top. Bras be damned. Shorts be damned. It was just gonna be me and Dean all the way from South Dakota to California. And I was going to be fine.

 

No matter how loud I screamed, there was nothing to be done. No one came. Just those images of people I cared about laughing in my face. But they weren’t human. They were demons. Except for one. Christopher. He had always been a demon.

‘Your husband would be disappointed. Your family would be disappointed.’ His hands snaked up my back. ‘What would they say, huh? If they knew you were sleeping with a man other than him? Hm?’

I knew no one would be disappointed if they knew the truth. At least not the people I chose to trust. But after the first year of having that whispered to me, a part of me could see their faces falling and grimacing at the news.

‘Whore.’ ‘Slut’. But it was always ‘used’ that hit hardest. Used. Because it wasn’t followed by ‘abused’.

‘Say yes,’

No!

Rock music. Zeppelin again, if I remembered right. I forced my eyes open. In front of me wasn’t the sight of Alastair or Christopher. But it was just the open road.

“How’d you sleep?” Dean’s voice was gentle.

I glanced to my left, and there he was, beautiful in his Henley and worn out jeans. His side profile was amazing.

“Fine.” I sat up straighter. My back felt stiff from leaning against the window for the whole night. “What time is it?”

“Almost 11.”

Oh, I’d been asleep for a while. “And you didn’t sleep?”

“Caught a few Zs once I filled up Baby at the last gas station.” Dean patted the dashboard. “You looked tired so I let you sleep.”

“Yeah,” I looked out the window at the town we were crossing. “How much further to Jess’ place?”

“Patience, girl.” Dean teased. “Another day minimum.”

“Why does she have to live so far away?” I grumbled. “Do we have food?”

“Check the back. There should be a taco for you somewhere.”

“Chicken?” I reached for the last decent looking takeout bag in the back and opened it to peek inside. “Smells…”

“Edible?” Dean snickered. “If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.”

“Like hell you are.” I huffed. I dug into the stale greasy taco.

“We could take a break tonight. Get your eight hours.” Dean’s wrists rested leisurely on Baby’s wheel as he comfortably pushed her up to 80 miles per hour.

“Yeah,” I curled into myself. “That sounds good.”

But I didn’t really wanna go back to sleep.

 

“You made it…!” Jessica squealed the second she saw us pull up in front of her apartment.

“Hey,” Sam held up a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” I smiled over Jessica’s shoulder at the youngest Winchester. “Wassup?” I said lamely. What else was I supposed to say?

Jessica smiled and pushed me towards the stairs. “Come on up. I baked cookies. Chocolate chip. You said you liked those, right?”

Like the day she and I’d almost gotten killed by Azazel.

“It’s like watching two hot lesbians.” I heard Dean say loudly enough for us to hear. Definitely intentional.

“Dean, what? No.” Sam hissed after him.

Yeah, I missed this drama.

 

“If I watch another one of this shitty rom com I’m gonna shoot the TV.” Dean whispered to me as we relaxed against the legs of the couch.

Sam and Jessica were on the actual couch, munching over popcorn and sneaking kisses.

“We’ve got a real rom com behind us.” I whispered back.

“I heard that, Sharon.” A popcorn landed on my shoulder.

“Dude, keep your trash to yourself.” I picked it up and threw it back at him. It hit him square in the nose. Hah!

Jessica giggled.

“A giant trashcan that’s what he is.” And Dean tossed him one of his own popcorns.

“Ahhh!” someone moaned.

“Uhh…” Sam chuckled nervously. “Do we have to watch this?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine by me. Nothing we haven’t seen or done before.”

“Okay, but like Dean– This isn’t something– something that brothers just watch together–”

“Yeah, and we’re not. Cause we’ve got two hot women on our arms.” Dean tipped his beer back.

“We’re not accessories.” I reminded him.

“I think a few more drinks will help, right, Sam?” Jessica patted his shoulder and got up to go to the kitchen again.

“Thanks, Jess!” Dean called.

“Mhm.” she hummed back in response.

 

I had no idea how many movies we watched. We just kept taking the previous one out, and putting a new one in. I was drowsy. Sam and Jessica were already snoring on the couch, and Dean was trying to hold out till the end of whatever number movie of Star Trek this was.

“Go to sleep.” I mumbled into his shoulder.

“No you.” He fought back.

“Bastard. You’re the one that looks like he’s gonna pass out.”

“Mm, you too.” He tugged my hair free from its haphazard braid.

“Sure man.”

The credits on the movie finally rolled.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Dean said softly.

I hummed in response.

“That a yes or no?” He teased.

“Yes,” I looked away from him to stare at the rows of names on the screen instead.

“Hey, look.” Oh God, we were gonna talk. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I could. “I’m not asking you to say anything right now, but I… um…” he looked down at the floor. “I know something’s wrong, sweetheart. And I know we're absolutely crap when it comes to talking about feelings… but I want you to know, I’m here.”

I gave him the best smile I could muster. “I know, Dean. I know.”

 

I woke up again in a sweat. Dean was snoring lightly above my head, but his arms were tight around my waist. Was I breathing right? In, two, three… out, two, three… In, two–

“Sharon! Dean!” Jessica suddenly screamed.

I jumped up, as did Dean. “Jess?!” He called out.

“It’s-it’s Sam.” Jessica replied from the bathroom. “Please, I don’t know what to do.”

Dean was up to his brother instantly. I scrambled after him, ignoring the rapid beating of my own heart.

Sam was clutching his head with a painful grimace against the doorway of the bathroom. Dean gently lowered him down to the floor and held his shoulder, whispering reassurances.

“What’s happening?” Jessica whispered to me.

“A vision.” I answered. “He sees certain events into the future.”

“Oh.” Jessica’s lovely blue eyes grew wide. “I didn’t realise it…”

“Yeah.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“Like the worst migraine in your life but make it ten times worse. But I’ve also never felt it so I can’t confirm.”

“Will he be okay?” She grabbed my arm.

“Yeah,” I looked at the brothers now gripping each other’s hands. “He’ll be okay.”

 

“So… you guys are leaving again?” Jessica asked quietly as we sat in front of a computer.

Dean and I nodded. “Once we figure out what to do and where to go.”

Sam was still a little out of it, looking dazed. “You good?” I brushed a hand through his long hair. “What’d you see?”

“A-a guy killing himself. Shot himself from under the jaw.” He shuddered.

Jessica squeezed his shoulder and leaned forward to kiss the top of his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam’s lips quirked up. “Thanks Jess. But it’s fine. Not the first time.”

“Not the first?” Dean looked alarmed. “How long have you been seeing this?”

“No I meant— not my first time watching someone die.” Sam pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m… I’m still getting used to it.”

“So…” I stared at the computer still open in front of us. “What’re we gonna do? Did you see any location?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Googling isn’t gonna help.” I stared at the many search results. “Too many different kinds of bus logos that match what you saw.”

He shook his head. He leaned back on his chair. “I don’t know. It seems like a lot to track. There’s also something else…” He frowned. “He killed a bunch of people before all of that. In a… in a gun shop.”

“Oh my God.” Jessica whispered.

“That should help narrow down the search. Start with that next time.” Dean said sarcastically.

I remained focused on the laptop, typing away with the new information Sam just gave me. Nothing.

But Jessica exploded on him anyway. “It can’t be easy for him, you know. Can you imagine watching people die randomly in the middle of the day?”

I clicked through a few more search pages and came up with nothing. Again. Dean was trying to back away from the angry 5’11” woman. Sam was enjoying the show.

“Guys.” I craned my neck to try and catch Dean’s and Jessica’s attention. They continued their little back and forth. “Guys!” I said loudly. That finally got their attention. Jessica kept an angry glare on Dean the whole time but came back to sit next to Sam.

“She’s scary.” Dean whispered.

“Yeah I bet.” I closed the laptop. “I have nothing on the internet.”

“What? But you said everything was on the internet.”

“Well it’s also not 2020.” I crossed my arms and slumped back. “Other than the computer and the internet I don’t know how else to look. Yall don’t have a Google reverse image search do you?”

“A Google what?” Sam repeated.

Yep. Didn’t exist yet. “You’ll find out later.” I waved him off. “So now what do we do?”

“We… call for help?” Sam shrugged. “I wanna get to the bottom of this but I don’t think we can do this alone.”

“You wanna… call Dad…?” Dean said half in shock.

Sam shook his head. “I was thinking Bobby. Dad hasn’t answered in a week.”

Dean rubbed his head. “I’ll give Bobby a call. But I’ll also ring Dad. See if he’s okay at least.”

“He does work weird hours.” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah. But… But he’s been getting better at communicating. You know?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “That man’s never gonna understand Dean. Just let him go.”

“No.” Dean quipped. “I’m gonna go call him. Sharon, call Bobby.” And he self medicated his feelings with alcohol again.

“Really, Sam?” I hissed.

He just shrugged and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jessica asked.

“Away from him.” Sam glared at Dean who refused to make eye contact. “I don’t get why he likes being Daddy’s good soldier. That man has done nothing for us. And just when things start getting better, he disappears! Again!” He stomped off to the bedroom.

Well shit.

Jessica gave me a worried look but chased after him. “Sam!”

“He doesn’t get it.” Dean looked at his phone. His thumb hovered over the call button. “He doesn’t get what Dad’s been through.”

I placed a hand on his thigh. “He’ll figure it out Dean.”

He kept drinking. “It’s been years.”

“Put the bottle down.”

He took one look at me and reluctantly put it back down. “I don’t know what to do Sharon. As soon as things start looking up it all goes to hell ag—” he cringed at the word ‘hell’. “Sorry.”

“I don’t remember it.”

“We both know you’re lying sweetheart.” He covered my hand that rested on his leg. “We’ll get through this.”

It was more for him than anyone else. “Yeah we will.”

 

“Okay so Bobby sent this address.” I said as we piled into the car. Jessica stood worriedly on the side, a blanket wrapped tightly around her. “He said to check out this place called the Roadhouse cause apparently there’s a good tracker there.”

“Tracker?” Dean leaned over my shoulder to check the spare phone he’d handed me.

“Yeah. Says he’s good at finding stuff.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ash. Ring a bell?” I knew exactly who this was. I was wondering if we were ever gonna meet them considering the plot had changed enough that Dean and Sam still didn’t know Jo and Ellen. But that also meant another thing. I had to keep Ash safe. And Jo. And Ellen.

“No clue.” Dean patted Baby’s roof and opened the passenger door for me. “You wanna ride shotgun?”

Did I want to? I didn’t mind the back. But I didn’t mind the view from the front either. “Might as well.”

“I’m coming too.” Jess suddenly said.

“What?” Sam snapped back up to her. “But Jess, what about your job?”

“Sammy I can’t do this anymore.” Her bottom lip trembled.

“Let’s give the lovebirds some space.” Dean muttered in my ear and tugged me away from them. “Should we bring Jess along?” He searched my face for an expression.

“I don’t know.” I answered. I really had no idea. Hell I didn’t even know how this was gonna go. Was this even an episode?

 

We ended up on the road with the four of us. Jessica said something about resigning and finding a place to rent in Sioux Falls instead. Just to be closer to Sam and Sam had sniffled into the back with her.

“We can have your bike towed at some point.” Jessica said sweetly.

“My bike?” I’d completely forgotten about that!

“Yeah. I was using for the two month you were…”

“Gone.” I offered. More like twenty years but it would have to do.

“Yeah. Gone.” She swallowed. “I kept it for you. Modified it a bit so I could use it. I hope you don’t mind.”

I waved off her concern. “Nah it’s fine.” Besides I doubted I wanted to drive by myself any time soon. Sitting here, next to Dean and complaining about his taste in music seemed a lot more calming.

 

The Roadhouse was exactly as I’d seen in the show. Maybe just a tad bit bigger. Baby pulled up into the parking lot next to a few beat up trucks and sedans.

The four of us got out and stared at the entrance. “It’s a bar.” Dean stated the obvious.

“A roadhouse to be specific.” Sam corrected.

“A bar on a country road.” Jessica added.

“Well great now I’ve got two nerds.” Dean grumbled.

“Texas Roadhouse is awesome.” I chimed.

“And a crazy Texan chick.”

“You married said crazy Texan chick.”

He smirked. “I think I forgot to mention hot.”

“Quit your flirting.” Sam marched past us. Jessica followed him with a laugh. “You see what I deal with…”

“Oh to be young and in love.” Dean said dramatically.

I jabbed his arm. “Come on you sap. We have an Ash to find.” Imagine if his last name was Ketchum. Haha!

 

“You two wanna grab drinks?” Dean looked incredulously at his brother.

Sam frowned. “I was gonna ask the bartender.”

“And get a drink or two.” Jessica was already eying the drinks at the back of the bar.

“Let’s go.” And off they were.

“I kinda want a drink too.” Dean headed for the bar but I grabbed his arm.

“Nope Dean. We’re here for a job. And Sam and Jessica are doing what’s needed to be done.” Sure enough they were sipping drinks and making idle chatter with a woman that was definitely Ellen.

“They took the good one.” Dean huffed.

“Wanna play pool instead?” I nodded towards the pool table where a bunch of old dunks were being beat by a much younger woman.

“Today’s your unlucky day.” That young woman was definitely Jo.

“Man you got hustled.” “I’m gonna go next.” “But first he coughs up his money.”

Jo grinned as she waved around a stack of bills. “Who else wants to play?”

“How about me darlin’?” Dean was already in full charm mode.

I stuck to his arm as we’d done several times before when hustling others. As we got closer I knew for sure. That was Jo. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. And honestly? Me too girl me too. “More importantly, I got a question for you. Do you know where we can find an Ash?”

“Who’s askin’?” She asked. Her eyes flitted to look at me and then down to the silver band. Her mouth formed an ‘O’ but she quickly regained her glare.

“Dean. This is Sharon.”

“Oh.” She looked a little disappointed when her eyes finally spotted the matching silver on his hand. She clicked her tongue. “I’m Jo. Beat me in a game of pool. And maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Oh come on!” Dean threw his hands. “You’re gonna play me for information?”

Jo cocked a hip. “Only if you win.”

“Goddammit.” Dean grabbed a cue, making a show of being exasperated. “Go easy on my will ya?”

“You newbie got no idea what’s comin’!” one of the drunks hiccuped.

“Shut up man.” Dean took his position and smirked. “Alright can I go first?”

Jo whistled. “Sure I’ll give you the advantage.”

Dean held back a smirk as he angled his cue against the white ball. With a quick jab, the white ball struck the rest of the balls and bam. Five of them went into the pockets. “Damn. Newbie luck.”

Jo bristled. “One more shot.”

 And he struck one more time. A couple of them went into the pockets. “Again?”

Jo tried to keep her face neutral. “Yeah.”

Dean was winning. That much was clear.

“Alright Jo. That’s enough.” An older woman suddenly said and pulled Jo away from the table. “Thank you gentlemen but the show’s over. Jo, go get Ash.”

“But it was such a good game!” Whined the men.

Jo didn’t take her eyes off of Dean even as she reset the pool table. “We can finish this some other time.”

Dean stared dumbfounded at Ellen. “Wait so you’re just gonna tell us where he is?”

Sam smirked and Jessica laughed behind him.

“Not like it’s a secret.” Ellen shrugged. “You’re John’s boys aren’t you? And you're Bobby’s girl.” Ellen stuck out a hand. “I’m Ellen, nice to meet you. We’ve corresponded a few times.”

“Yeah.” I shook her hand.

“Heard about your death. But I guess it was just a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah.” I went with the lie and the story we’d cooked up. I’d gone missing after a hunt gone wrong and then found again two months later with no memory of what had happened. Worked for me.

“Ash is in there.” Jo pointed at a door that said ‘Dr. Badass:’ followed by a green sign saying ‘IS IN’. Huh. Typical Ash style.

We walked right in only to find Ash in the nude. Oh damn. He was big. I turned around out of politeness but Ash clearly did not care enough. And neither did Sam.

“Hey Ash, um, we’re the Winchesters. And we need some help.”

“Winchesters?” Ash thought for a moment. “Well, hell, lemme put on some pants.” He laughed to himself and slammed the door shut.

 

The five of us crowded around a laptop in Ash’s small office. Dean and Sam were fighting again behind Ash. Jessica and I just rolled our eyes at their antics.

“Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma.” Ash chimed.

“Okay. Do me a favor - check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that.” Sam prompted.

“You think there’s demons there?” Ash raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah maybe.” Sam said curtly.

“Huh… why would you think that?”

“Just check it man, all right?” Dean demanded.

Ash shrugged and kept looking. A minute later he still had nothing.

“All right, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six month birthday.”

Ash looked startled by the detailed demand. Jessica just shuddered and wrapped her arms around her stomach. No doubt she could still feel the pain from Azazel shredding her stomach. “Okay, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that?”

Jessica dangled a beer bottle in front of Ash’s face. “Cause there’s a PBR in it for ya.” Damn girl.

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

 

Dean and I sat at the bar. He was already downing whiskey shots like water and I’d barely managed a dent in my glass of coke.

“Wish Sam would stop telling other people so much.” He said to his glass.

“We needed the help.” I said gently.

“Yeah but… these are family matters. You could have done that for us.”

“Not as fast as Ash.” I pointed out. “Woulda taken me a few hours at least to comb through so much data. And time isn’t really on our side here.”

“Comin to the roadhouse was a mistake. If it was gonna take you a few hours then we shoulda just stayed in Jess’ apartment and researched instead.”

“I didn’t even have a city to go off of Dean. I don’t know how Ash did it. I’m not a tech whiz but like… he is. He’s doing this faster than we ever could have. What I do is elementary compared to what he does.”

He nodded, but reluctantly.

“You wanna finish that game?” Jo said as she popped up next to Dean.

Dean looked at her and smiled. “I don’t think we got time for that.”

“It would have been fun.” She looked at me. “You wanna play too?”

I laughed nervously. “Oh no. I’m terrible at it.”

She opened her mouth to insist again but Ash’s door slammed open and Sam hurried out with Jessica keeping up with his long strides. “We’ve got a match. We gotta go.”

“All right Jo. We’ll see you later.” Dean and I said and we hopped off the bar stools and went for the car.

 

“What do we got?” Dean asked as he drove.

“Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty three, like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like me.” Jessica barely stirred at the news.

“You think the demon killed his mom?”

“Sure looks like it.”

“How did you even know to look for this guy?”

“Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?”

I felt Jessica lean close to my ear. “Who?”

“A kid with psychic abilities. Like me.” I whispered back.

“Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho.” Dean very kindly reminded.

“The point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him.” Sam brought his brother back on track. “And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.”

“So… where is he?” Jessica asked.

“Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities…” Sam noted

“Collection agency flags?” asked Dean.

“None in the system.”

“They just let him take a walk?”

“Maybe he’s homeless now.” Jessica mused.

“Very possible.” Sam nodded. “There’s a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago. “Let’s start there.” About a year ago. When all this hell started. I felt sick.

 

“This isn’t very legal is it?” Jessica mused as she looked down at her outfit.

“Nope.” I finished fixing her tie. “We’re FBI agents.” I grabbed the fake badge we’d made for her and tossed it to her. “That’s your badge.”

“So… my name is Glinda?” She squinted at her badge.

I finished straightening my suit and unlocked the motel door. “Yep.”

“And you’re… Elphaba.” She laughed. “That’s a bit of a strange name.”

I switched my ring from my left to my right. “Give it a few years and it won’t be so strange.”

As we exited the motel we spotted Dean and Sam leaning against the impala dressed in their suits and looking dashing as always.

“You two look great.” Sam grinned.

“As do you two.” Jessica’s eyes twinkled. “Agents.”

“Agents…” Dean repeated in a low whisper.

“You’re married, Agent.” I reminded him.

“Let a man observe a beauty.” Dean smirked. “Besides, it's only you that owns my actual heart.”

“Then stop leering at your sister in law.”

 

“Might be a bit too much if four agents just walked into a coffee shop.” I said as Dean and I exited the car. “Sam and Jessica. Why don’t you guys keep a lookout for Gallagher? Surely yall have a picture of the guy.”

“Yeah. We can do that.” Jessica hopped onto the idea. “You two gonna check out the place?”

“Mhm. We’ll be back as soon as we have something. Y’all keep looking.”

“Fine by me.” Sam was already on the lookout. “We’ll call if we see him.”

Dean nodded. “See you in a bit.”

We strutted into the cafe with all the stagger of conmen and took a seat at the long counter.

“Hello,” a woman walked up to us nervously. “What can I get you guys?”

“We were hoping for some information about an Andrew Gallagher.” Dean flashed his winning smile. “Heard he used to work here.”

“Oh. Um.” She started grabbing two cups and a fresh pot of coffee. “Sure. Gimme just one minute to grab the owner.” She frantically poured the coffee into the cups before scurrying off.

“Well that one’s skittish.” Dean stared after her disappearing figure.

“If two people in suits walked up to me and demanded info on some guy that hasn’t worked here for a year, I would run too. She’s got brains I’d say.”

“Uh huh.” He sipped his coffee as a much more stone faced woman walked up to us this time.

“I’m Tracy. And I’m sorry. You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do.” The woman noted. 

"They?” Dean leaned forward.

Suddenly she didn’t look too sure. “You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.” Yep I knew this episode.

“Actually we're, we're Lawyers. Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate.”

I made a cross with my hand over my chest. And Tracy seemed to buy it. “Did you happen to know Andy?”

Tracy nodded jerkily. “I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore.”

“Andy? Andy kicks ass, man.” one of the male customers said from a table.

“Is that right?” Dean turned around to look at him.

“Yeah. Andy can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once, it was beautiful, bro.”

“That’s awesome.” I smiled.

He nodded happily. “I know right. I hope he can get his life back on track with that estate. Rest in peace to his aunt though.” And he went back to devouring his burger.

“Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street.” Tracy finally replied. “Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side.”

“Barbarian queen?” Dean tilted his head in question.

What was a Barbarian queen?

“She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss.”

 

“So we’re just gonna sit here like ducks?” Sam itched to get out of the car.

“It’s a stakeout.” Dean reminded.

“But we should at least go check out the truck?” Jessica squirmed nervously.

“It’s a stakeout.” Dean repeated.

“But, Dean–”

“It’s a stakeout.” Dean said a little louder, and that shut up the younger brother. A few minutes later, we were still in our “I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet.”

“The confidence is wild.”

And I finally knew what a Barbarian Queen was. Sam however, remained quiet.

“Sam?” Jessica asked gently. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” was the simple reply.

“Sam, you look awful.”

“This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found.” Sam ran his hands down his face. “Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people.” He looked terrified. And rightfully so.

“We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, all right? He could be innocent.” Dean pointed out. Well, Dean wasn’t wrong either.

“My visions haven't been wrong yet.”

Maybe he’s not the one killing people. I wanted to say. But I couldn’t. Damn thing.

“What do you mean, Sam?” Jessica shifted so she was facing him directly.

“I mean–” His hazel eyes trembled just slightly. “I mean I’m one of them.”

“No, you’re not.” Dean said firmly.

“Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be—”

“What? Killers?” Dean slammed the steering wheel.

Sam muttered a small “yeah”.

“So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? Come on, give me a break. You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones.”

“Dean’s right, Sam.” Jessica added.

“No? Last time I checked. I kill all kinds of things.”

“But they’re not human. These people- these murderers you’re talking about- they’re not like you.”

“Jess… you don’t know half the things I do.”

“And yet you’re the one that tries to keep me safe from all these things. Sam, there’s a difference.”

Dean and I nodded along.

Right that minute Sam jumped up. “That’s him.” He said breathlessly. “That’s Andrew Gallagher.”

The four of us discretely (not) craned our necks out the left side of the car to watch. Andrew blew a woman a kiss as he exited her house in just his pajamas. He walked out and said hello to a man before shaking hands.

“And that’s him. That’s the guy. That’s the shooter.” Sam rambled.

“Alright, Sam. You keep on him. Take Jess with you. Sharon and I can watch this Andrew guy.”

“On it.” Jess said as she slammed the door after Sam. “Sam! Wait!”

“I hope they stay careful.” I settled back in my seat and felt for my gun hidden under my suit. “Dean. This Andrew guy. Don’t—” Dammit. My voice didn’t work again.

“Don’t what?” Dean asked. But Andrew was already approaching.

Headphones headphones. Noise cancelling headphones. I plugged my ears with an old pair rotting for goodness knows how long in the old suit. And I found Sam’s pair in the glovebox. I placed them over Dean’s ears much to his confusion.

“What?”

I lifted one from his ear and told him. “Don’t take them off.”

He nodded awkwardly but he did trust me. I shoved the aux into one of his mp3 player’s headphone jack and he immediately cringed. “DUDE! HAIR ROCK?!” Oh, it was Sam’s. Oops. I shrugged and looked out the window, away from Andrew.

Andrew knocked on Dean’s window and we both pretended to be too invested in the beautiful sound of Sam’s ‘hair rock’. He yelled for a few seconds before giving up and walking away.

 

The old shooter guy ended up surviving. Jessica had pulled him back from getting run over by the bus in the last second and he’d survived with only a broken leg. As paramedics started loading him in, the shooter guy kept trying to run into traffic.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Jessica said as she stared at the old man.

“I wanna say suicidal but obviously there’s more to this.” I answered.

“Put him on suicide watch.” A paramedic said to another and it was just brushed off just like that.

“I thought he died from a gunshot to his jaw.” Jessica continued saying. “Sam kept him out of the gun store. So why is this… is this all that Andrew guy’s doing?”

I couldn’t answer. I knew for a fact it wasn’t him. It was his evil twin. Of course it was the evil twin. It’s always the evil twin obviously.

 

“This place is sick!” Jessica whispered to Sam as we broke into Andrew’s van.

“Jess!” Sam hissed.

“No, no. She’s got a point.” I wagged a finger at Sam. “Look at this place! It’s awesome! Look at all these books.” I ran my fingers over all the thick dusty covers.

“Wait till you realise the music playing is porn music.”

“Wait what.”

“Oh you sweet innocent child.” Dean mocked.

“Look at this fur.” Jessica stared at the fur rugs covering every inch of wall and floor and ceiling.

“And that disco ball is awesome.” Dean poked it with a pen.

“Great, I'm surrounded by nerds.”

“Shut up Sam.” Dean continued exploring the place. “Not exactly a serial k*ller's lair, though. There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger.”

“Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading.” Sam finally said as he stood next to me by the bookshelf.

“There’s Moby Dick’s bong.” Dean added. And only Jessica laughed with her head thrown back.

 

“You guys eat these everyday?” Jessica stared at the foiled burger sitting on Dean’s lap.

“Unfortunately.” I bit into my own greasy quesadilla. “Some food is better than no food.” But honestly I hated it. I picked up an apple and started cutting it into bite sized pieces.

“You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a minimart.” And that day was gonna come sooner than later. “Sharon makes awesome lasagna.”

“You do?” Jessica said hopefully.

I shrugged. “Just what the recipe says.”

“And pie.” Dean grinned.

“What I don't get is the motive. I mean, the Doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?” Sam wasn’t even listening to us.

“If it is Andy.”

“Dude.” Sam scowled.

“What?” Dean leaned over the front seat to glare at his brother.

“The doctor was called right before he got hit by the bus. So the Doctor was probably mind-controlled in front of it. Andy most likely has the power of mind control. That’s why Sharon covered your ears. You do the math.”

“That’s a compelling argument.” Jessica hummed.

“Dean.” Sam insisted again.

Dean shook his head. “I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all.” 

“Well, how the hell would you know? I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?”

“'Cause you're not right about this.”

“About Andy?”

I was starting to get a headache. “Sam. Dean. Calm down both of you.”

I jumped when a fist slammed against the window of the van. Dean pulled me to the side as Andrew’s angry face came into view.

“You think I don’t know you two are following me?!” Andrew bit out angrily. “And there’s more of you! I knew something was wrong!”

“Well, we're Lawyers.” Sam continued with the lie. “See, a relative of yours has passed aw—”

Andrew’s and my eyes locked. “Tell. The. Truth.” His voice seemed to echo. And before I knew it I was spilling everything.

“We hunt demons.”

“What?”

“Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch.”

“Jess. Get her out of here.” Dean was pulling on my arm and away from Andrew.

“No. Dean. You too.” Sam pushed at his brother.

But I wasn’t done talking. “Sam’s psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible. And I—” I know he’s not a murderer or that he wants to do evil things but he will against his will. And that terrifies me.”

“Okay. Okay. You guys are nuts.” Andrew choked out and ran. “Stay away from me!” His voice did the echo thing again. And I started heading out of the van. As did Jessica and Dean.

“What?!” I heard Sam groan. “Alright. You three stay in the car. I’m going after Andy.” He said and pushed past us.

“Let’s go to the car.” Dean started leading us back to Baby.

“The car.” Jessica and I chimed.

 

We sat in the car and watched Sam talk to Andrew with animated hand motions. They seemed to be yelling.

“I’m gonna go take a look.” Dean started to get out but Jessica stopped him.

“No. Let me.” She stood outside the car when Sam held up a hand telling her to stay put. I watched carefully. Everything seemed to be fine. But then Sam crumpled to the floor.

Jessica shot off to check on him. And Dean and I ran after her.

“I-I didn’t do anything.” Andrew stammered. “He-he just kind of—”

“I believe you.” I told him as we checked Sam for signs of life. He was fine.

“A woman. A woman burning alive.” Sam choked.

“What else you got?” Dean kept tapping his shoulder to keep him awake.

“A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself.” Sam gasped.

Jessica ran her hands down his arms. “Stay with me, Sam.”

Andrew started yammering again. “What does he mean, going to? What is he, what is—”

“Shut up!” Dean ordered. Andrew zipped his lips.

“She gets triggered by a call on her cell.” Sam managed.

Jessica slowly helped him stand up. “When?”

“I don't know.”

An ambulance and sirens zoomed by.

“Holy shit.” Andrew stared wide eyed.

“Go.” Sam said through his headache. He was still leaning slightly on Jessica and clutching his head but his voice was firm.

“Come on.” Dean ushered me to go with him.

“Oh you’re staying right here, mister.” I heard Jessica tell Andrew.

Until that too was drowned out by the sirens we were following.

 

The woman was dead by the time we got there. Burned to ashes. The smell of burning flesh still lingered in the air. It smelled like hell. I blinked rapidly to try and get rid of the images starting to come back.

“I’m gonna be sick.” I told Dean.

He placed a hand on my back and started walking me to the gas station bathroom. “Nothing for us to do here now. Take your time.”

And through the nauseating feeling I somehow managed to stumble through the door and throw up in the sink. It smelled rancid. It was disgusting. I probably threw up more from the stench of the vomit and the taste of bile than actual hell. My stomach was still churning like my head by the time I left the bathroom and Dean looked worried when I poked his shoulder to get his attention.

“You look pale.” He gripped my upper arm to steady me.

“Thanks. I used skin whitening cream.” I forced a laugh.

“Oh yeah? Well the tanning salon forgot to tan your face. I think you should sue them.”

Before I knew it I was being helped into the impala and Dean was heading for the motel. “Why are we going back?”

“Cause you look like shit and you need the rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

I hadn’t.

“That’s what I thought.” He sighed as we stopped at a red light. “You know you can talk to me.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not.”

“This isn’t your burden to carry Dean.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the window. “You’ve got a brother to worry about. A Dad in goodness knows where. A panicked sister in law. And the last thing you need is to deal with your wife’s problems.” It was true. Hell had been my fault. I’d accepted my fate. And now the aftermath was my problem to deal with.

“But that’s what I’m here for.” Dean said quietly. “I vowed, Sharon. I vowed to share your burdens, to keep you safe. I’ve already failed at one and now you’re making me fail at another.”

“Dean. Please.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Dean. Please. This isn’t something I can just talk about. You don’t know what it was like. And I don’t want you to know. It was terrible Dean. That’s all I’m gonna say. So terrible I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Okay.” His voice was rough. And I didn’t need to look at him to know he was crying silent tears.

 

“Holly Beckett, 41 years old, single.” I said into the phone. “But get this. She gave birth in 1983 when she was 18. Same day Andrew was born. Her doctor was the old shooter guy, Dr. Jennings.”

I heard some excited conversation going on on the other side. A few minutes later, Dean came back on. “Andy was adopted.”

“Go figure.”

“Any idea of birth records?”

“County office. Want me to sneak in?”

“No sweetheart.” Ah my other favorite nickname. “You stay there. We’ve got a guy who can get us anywhere in the world. Right Andy?”

I heard a cheer from the other side. Of course. I was replaceable.

 

“It’s an evil twin.” Dean said incredulously.

“Mhm.” I hummed into the phone. I didn’t wanna talk.

“You okay?” He was being gentle again.

“Yeah.” I stared at the yarn I’d barely managed to prepare in the past three hours the others had been investigating. Lack of motivation was the bane of my existence. “I’m fine.”

“Okay well. Call if you need anything. We’re probably gonna be out all night. Tracy is gonna jump off a bridge apparently.”

I nodded before I remembered he couldn’t see me. “Sounds good. Bye.”

“Good night sweetheart. Make sure to sleep, okay?”

I hung up before I cried again.

 

“You guys got him?” I asked when they came back in with a bunch of beers and groceries. Real groceries.

“The evil twin? Yeah.” Dean responded. “You want the rundown with the whole lingerie thing?”

I already knew that. And I didn’t have enough energy to entertain him or anyone for that matter. “No thanks. I’m going to sleep.”

Jessica paused. “You don’t wanna bake cookies?”

“It’s midnight.”

“I thought—”

“Hey Jess…” Dean’s voice dropped as he whispered something to Jessica. Whatever it was, it sent Sam and her to their own motel room, leaving me and Dean alone.

I rolled onto my side. “When’re we leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’m dropping you off at Bobby’s.”

“What? Why?”

“Cause I can’t keep watching you pretend like everything’s normal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I glared at him. The fuck?

“Your mood swings. Your lack of interest in things. That-that lack of energy. And then you threw up today— And all that stuff you said in the car. Sharon, something is wrong, and I’m not gonna make you fight this demon while you’re clearly suffering.”

“So I’m weak, is that what you’re telling me?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

“I just want you to be safe and happy.”

“Well guess what Dean Winchester. One does not just remain fucking happy after being through hell.”

He fell quiet before saying slowly. “And that’s why I’m saying that you should—”

“I can do this okay? I can do this Dean. I’m fine. I’m not some fragile flower that can’t-that can’t do whatever it is you guys are doing because I’m in some depressive slump.” I sighed and pushed my hair out of my face. “I’ll get better Dean. Okay? I just- I just need time.”

“Then go to Bobby’s. You’ll be able to relax there. 10 hours of sleep. Play with that dog. Read your million books. Knit—”

“Crochet.”

“Okay, crochet, ten more blankets for everyone you know. I don’t know. Just… I don’t know.”

I nodded. “I get what you mean. But Dean… being here with you makes me feel like I have still have a purpose. I saved people today. I saved Jessica and now she saved that doctor guy.” I shook my head. “Dean this makes me wanna live right now. And I don’t know. But I don’t wanna go back to Bobby’s right now. I love the man I really do. But knowing I can save people?” I grabbed his arm. “Please Dean, I don't wanna stop doing that.”

His green eyes were wide when he looked at where my skin was touching his. “Don’t beg for that sweetheart.” He knelt down and placed his hands on my thighs. His eyes were watering. “Baby you never have to beg. Okay? Do what you want.”

“But you—”

“I was suggesting.” He lifted a hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. “It wasn’t an order. I’m shit at this talking communication thing and I’m sorry if it came out like an order. Hell you can order me around if you want. But sweetheart… you never have to beg. Yeah? It’s your life. You do what you want. Don’t let anyone, not even me, force you into anything you don’t. Okay?”

I weakly nodded at his speech. I’d almost forgotten that I had free will in this family. I wasn’t in hell tied up in literal chains. I was here with Dean, wrapped up in his arms with his soft lips kissing me senseless with the softest kisses imaginable. I was safe. I was safe here. If only my instincts would try to remember that.

Notes:

FINALLY I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER. I got tired of typing and copying and pasting and editing at the end so I kind of did give up in the last paragraph. But hey it went with the chapter so. Yeah. Have fun. 🥳

Chapter 33: No Exit

Summary:

"“Ouch…” I grimaced as I opened my eyes. It was dark. Where was I? I reached out a hand and I felt metal around me. Okay, so no way up. No need to panic. Try the sides. Again. Metal. I was locked in something that felt like a coffin. A metal one. Fuck."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. terrible writing. have fun guys

“Philadelphia.” Dean said, leaning back on his arms and staring up at the sun. “Nothin’ like staring the sun dead in the eye.”

“Dean, I know you’re wearing sunglasses, but they’re not gonna protect you from the sun burning your retinas.” I smacked his shoulder.

He looked down with his sunglasses still perched on his nose. His freckles were standing out today, especially in the sun. Man, he looked good. As always.

"We're investigating this thing, right?” I tapped the tan folder full of preliminary research we’d done on the case. “Women disappearing from an apartment complex. One every decade or two… all blonde, petite… same apartment complex.”

“Uhuh.” Dean pointed to my half eaten taco. “You gonna finish that?” It was meant as a joke, obviously. He was waiting for me to tell him no.

I stared at the thing. It was the only thing I’d eaten all day, and I still didn’t feel like finishing it. “Go ahead.”

He looked taken aback. “Actually, I think I’ll just finish my fries.” He ended up picking one off the greasy foil and eating that instead. “You should finish that.”

“No appetite.” I fiddled with the folder instead. “So I’m thinking we go and explore this place. Pretend to be potential buyers.”

Dean didn’t make a comment on the change of topics, but he did wrap my half eaten taco and throw it onto my seat through the passenger window.

“Ready to roll?” He asked as he chucked the trash into the trash can across the parking lot.

“Yep. Let’s do this.”

 

“Five hundred dollars for a whole month.” I thumbed through the five hundred dollar bills I’d been paid at the local bar. “No reason we shouldn’t be allowed in the apartment.”

“Uhuh.” Dean squinted at the two storeyed apartment in front of us. “Let’s go.”

We were greeted by a skeptical landlord who crawled out of his makeshift reception from under the staircase. Harry Potter much? “Why hello there.” he said.

“Hi.” I put on my best smile. “Um, I heard from a friend who went to college here that said this was an awesome place to live in.”

“Yeah… yeah…” his eyes travelled down in a pathetically hidden attempt to check me out. “We have a lot of young women from the local college that like to stay here. We’ve got good prices. Better than the others around.”

Liar. This place sucked. “The paint job is phenomenal.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean finally made his presence known. “When can we move in?”

“Uh… The tenant just left a week ago. We haven’t really managed to clean out the apartment–”

“We have cash.” I smiled.

“Oh.” the landlord cleared his throat. “Um. I’ll bring up the paperwork–”

“Uh, actually.” I stepped in front of him before he could walk past us into his office. “My parents don’t know I’m gonna be staying with my fiance, so… could you please keep this off the books?” I showed him the roll of cash, making sure the hundred was clearly visible.

He bit his lip and stared at the wad for a second. He ended up pocketing it and nodding. “Sure. I’ll bring you two the keys.”

I smiled as the man walked away.

“We’re in.” I told Dean, but he was squinting at one of the vents. “What is it?”

He reached up and felt for something. When he brought his hand down to my eye level I shuddered. “Ew.” It was a black sticky goo. “Ectoplasm?”

“Ectoplasm,” he confirmed. He glanced around and wiped his hand on the railings of the staircase.

I swatted his hand. “Dean!”

“What?” He looked at me innocently. “The guy’s gonna clean this place anyway.”

“Ya think so?” I gestured to the cobwebs in every corner and what looked a lot like mold growing out from under the loose carpet.

He shrugged. “We’ve stayed in worse.”

I sighed. “Unfortunately.”

 

We dumped our bags on the chairs in the tiny living room and started pulling out blueprints of the apartment. “Built in 1924.” I said as I smoothed out the corners. “Used to be a warehouse. Explains the weird layout.”

“What was here before?” Dean asked.

“Nothin’. Empty field.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement of the information. But then his phone buzzed and he quickly pulled it out of his pocket. “Hey, Sammy.” He broke into a grin. “Yeah… You and Jess doin’ alright?… Nope, we’re on that case we told you about… Yeah you kids take your time, we got things handled here… Okay… Yeah, let us know if you guys need anything… uhuh… Bye.” He hung up and looked back down at the table.

“They good?” I asked.

He nodded. “They’re doing fine. They just got to her apartment.”

“Already helping his girlfriend move out.” I laughed. “He’s moving fast.”

“Wait till he moves in with her in Sioux Falls or something.” Dean muttered. “Ditching his brother and sister for some chick.” He said playfully.

I shrugged. “As long as he puts a ring on it, I don’t really care.” I unzipped a duffel bag and pulled out two EMF meters. “We ready to explore?”

“Yep. You take the bottom floor. I’ll take the top.”

 

The landlord was snoring when I left the apartment to check out the building. The EMF was relatively chill, only the tiny occasional beep because of some electronic device. Nothing irregular. I walked around the hallways. Nothing. Just more shoddy paint jobs and quick patchwork on holes in the walls. Huh… nothing.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Dean?” I said as I picked it up.

“Got something.” He grunted. It sounded like he was doing something.

“You okay?”

“Yep.” He let out a breath. “Come upstairs. To the right hall.”

“Okay.” I made my way to where he was.

He was kneeling by another vent that was dripping with more ectoplasm.

“What is it?” I knelt down too. And that was when I spotted the clump of blonde hair in his grasp. “Ew.”

“Yeah.” he grimaced. “Someone’s keeping souvenirs.”

 

Day 1 million of waking up in a cold sweat and tears soaking my pillow.

Dean was still snoring against the top of my head, and his arms were loose around my waist. I reached out to grab Dean’s watch on the nightstand. I squinted against the moonlight. 12:30 AM. I sighed. A little over an hour of sleep. Could be worse.

My nightgown was soaked and I had no doubt I stank. Dammit. I rolled onto my back to take a look at Dean’s sleeping face. He looked beautiful, at peace. Probably dreaming about burgers or giving Baby a shiny coat of paint. Or maybe he was dreaming about being a cowboy and serenading some barmaid in the 1800s. I smiled at the thought of his happy grin.

I tried to wiggle out of his arms without waking him up. But he was a light sleeper and he groaned. “What time is it?”

“12:33.” I sat up and brushed a hand through his hair. “Go back to sleep.”

“And where are you going?” His voice was heavy with sleep, but he still forced an eye open. “Jeez, sweetheart. Were you out in the rain?”

A rain of blood and fear, but that was all in my head. I forced a laugh. “I’ll be back in a minute. Bathroom.”

I slipped into my slippers and hurried into the bathroom before he could ask for details.

I locked the bathroom door and stared at my face in the mirror. Man, I looked awful. I splashed my face with water and lifted my dress up to look at my intact skin. I wasn’t bleeding, no part of me had been ripped out, and nothing was actually wrong. But there was a dull throbbing pain radiating throughout my body as if the pain from Hell lasted even after getting out of there. I felt awful. But I looked worse. My acne was back, the stretch marks looked angry, and my nails were long overdue for a trim.

My eyes burned. Shit.

I forced them away and wrenched the bathroom door open. When I made my way back to the bedroom, Dean was sitting up and nodding off intermittently.

I crawled in next to him and he blinked his eyes open forcefully. “What’s wrong?” He scanned me up and down. “It’s not that time of the month. Or is it early?”

“Nothing, Dean.” I lifted the blankets on my side and shuffled under. “Go back to sleep.”

“You have nightmares bad enough to wake you of all people in an hour and you expect me to just sleep?”

“Yeah.” I tugged on his shirt to get him to flop back down. “No reason two of us should be sleep deprived.”

“This thing is killing you.”

“Yeah, well. Hell isn’t exactly something I can just forget.” He’d probably figured out what had happened down there. A lot of things happened down in Hell and none of them included sunshine, rainbows, unicorns, or puppies. I reached up to brush the back of my hand under his chin. “Just give me time, Dean. I'll figure this out.” That was if he didn’t get tired of me before I did all that.

He shook his head. “ We’ll figure this out.” He kissed the top of my head. “I’ll be right here.”

I closed my eyes as his warm solid body rejoined me under the sheets. I could tell he was awake with the way his thumb brushed over my sweaty skin in comforting motions. Someday. I pressed myself tighter against him. Someday I would tell him. And maybe he would leave once he realised it was too much of a burden. But for tonight I just wanted to know he was there.

 

I still ended up waking up from nightmares. But it was fine. Dean was still there. And he didn’t wake up unless I moved. All I had to do was just close my eyes, calm my racing heart, and I would pretty much pass out from exhaustion. Nothing new since I got back, really.

The 8:00 AM wake up call was a little smoother though. A bunch of police sirens were blaring outside and Dean was peeking out the curtains at the police cars outside.

In pure Y/N fashion I twisted my hair into a functional messy bun and came to stand with Dean by the window. “Why are they here?”

“A girl disappeared.” He noted. “From… apartment 2F I think.”

“Need me to chat up the landlord?” I offered.

“You do that.” He pushed off the windowsill. “I’m gonna go check out her apartment while you keep them busy.”

 

“Oh my gosh, I don’t believe it!” I gasped dramatically to the old man. “What do you mean she just disappeared!”

He nodded with a frown. “Her boyfriend reported her missing. She hasn’t even paid her rent this month.”

“Oh that must be so stressful… Does she have a name? I’ve got a friend in the police department.” I lowered my voice. “I can put in a word for her to charge her with skipping rent when she’s found.”

The old man scoffed. “Teresa Ellis.” He spat. “That girl has been giving me headaches… complaining about noises from the walls and whatnot. And the heaters aren’t even broken, but she keeps insisting there’s cold spots in her apartment! In summer! There’s nothing there! Nothing’s wrong! And that boyfriend of hers is always over. They’re not even engaged…” I let the old man keep ranting. But noises in the walls and cold spots… It sounded like our spirit lived in the walls of this apartment. But whose spirit? And why? And why did this case feel so familiar?

 

“Teresa Ellis. Her boyfriend reported her missing early dawn. According to the landlord she complained of noises in the walls and cold spots in the middle of summer. Landlord swears the heaters aren’t broken and that there’s nothing in the walls.”

“That checks out.” Dean flopped onto the chair opposite mine. “There were cracks in the walls and plaster. Ectoplasm too.”

“So it’s definitely our kind of thing.” I concluded.

“Yeah. our kind of thing.”

I held back a yawn. “There’s something I wanna look at.” I opened up the laptop and started typing away.

Dean’s hand blocked my view of the screen. “Why don’t you take a nap?” He asked.

And I frowned. “Don’t wanna. Why?”

“You didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well for the past month.”

“Uhuh. And it’s catching up to you.”

I sighed. He wasn’t wrong. But… “I can’t sleep at all unless I’m next to someone.” I looked at him pleadingly. “Dean, I can't sleep alone.”

“Who said I was going anywhere?” He gave a small smile and picked me up. I smacked his shoulder but he just grinned wider. I rolled my eyes and let myself sink in his hold. He was strong. He was warm. And he cared. “Take a nap.” He placed me down on the couch and sat down on the floor, leaning against one of the legs. He pulled the laptop down to his lap and opened a fresh browser tab. “What were you looking for?”

“Whatever was next to the empty field.” I shifted to get comfortable and reached a hand out to grab his shoulder. He looked up at me in surprise. “Just… don’t leave.”

He pressed a kiss to my hand and my stomach fluttered. “I won’t, sweetheart.”

 

Power naps were great. There wasn’t enough time for the dream to become a nightmare and I was feeling much better already. Dean was sifting through the research he’d just done and gave me a basic rundown.

“Okay. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this. They used to hang people in the empty field next door.”

“So… we need a list of everyone that died, right?”

“Got Sammy to do it.” He smirked. “He was so pissed when I interrupted his date.” Well, at least those two were having fun. “There’s one name out of a hundred fifty seven names that stood out.” He showed me the text from Sam. “H.H. Holmes.” Oh. I did know this case. But I thought Jo was supposed to be on this too? Wasn’t this where Dean said his famous line of cleaning the pipes?

“Wait, who’s this guy again?” I knew the name was familiar. But I completely forgot who the guy actually was.

“The term ‘multi-murderer.’ They coined it to describe Holmes. He was America's first serial killer, before anybody knew what a serial killer was.”

“Typical of dumb Americans. Of course someone who murders once is gonna murder again. It’s common sense.”

“You didn’t even know his name!”

“Do not mistake my ignorance for stupidity!” I snatched the laptop from him and started searching him up. “Okay, so he confessed to twenty seven murders, but people think he killed over a hundred.” I scrolled through the article. “Used chloroform to kill his victims.”

Dean paused. “That’s what I smelled in the hallways last night.” He ran a hand through his hair. “His victim flavor of choice was pretty petite blondes.” He started pacing the room. “Thank goodness you’re not blonde. Otherwise you’d fit his victim profile.”

I felt heat creeping up my cheeks. Pretty. He was pretty much saying I was pretty. I snapped my attention back to the screen. “Police found human remains and a blonde lock at his place.”

“Like the vent.”

“Like the vent.” I scrolled a little further. “The classic salt and burn won’t work. He’s buried under a few tons of concrete in town.”

“So no one could mutilate his body like he did his victims.”

“You know a lot about this guy for someone who makes fun of me for listening to murder podcasts.”

Dean huffed. “Dude, it’s the world’s first identified serial killer, of course I know about this guy.”

“Well, since you know so much about the guy.” I put the laptop down and crossed my arms. “Why don’t you tell me about him instead.”

He rolled his eyes and sat down across from me on a chair. “He built an apartment building in Chicago. Called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. They had, uh, trap doors, acid vats, quick line pits, all kinds of shit… But he built these secret chambers inside the walls. He locked his victims in, kept them alive for days at times. Some of them he suffocated, and others he let them starve.”

I shuddered. This guy was horrific. Being trapped inside a wall. A wave of nausea rolled over me as I remembered the feeling of being buried. It wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanna sit this one out?” Dean asked.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Just…” My head spun. “Just gimme a minute.” I moved to lay down on the sofa. Hopefully the wave of nausea would just roll away.

A large hand cradled the back of my head and a pillow was pushed under. “Thanks.” I closed my eyes. And Dean just hummed.

When I reopened my eyes, it had only been five minutes but it had felt like hours. “Sorry.”

“No,” Dean held up his hand. “Don’t apologise for that, sweetheart.”

I smiled at him and his green eyes softened. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

“A wig ?” Dean stared in horror at my latest purchase from the gas station.

I shrugged. “Best way to get to this guy.” If Jo wasn’t gonna be bait then I was. I positioned the wig somewhat on my head. “How do I look?”

Even the man who said he considered me the prettiest in the world even in a potato sack was trying to hold back his laughter. “Ridiculous.” he choked out before doubling over and slapping his knees.

I rolled my eyes. I knew I looked ridiculous. But I wasn’t about to get my hair bleached for a case. Besides, the probability of an ancient serial killing ghost probably wouldn’t be able to differentiate between a blonde wig and real blonde hair, right? “Enough to be bait.” I marched towards the cashier.

Dean jogged to catch up. “Hey, you don’t gotta do this, you know? We just have to find the bastard and where he’s keeping these girls.”

“Mhm.” I hummed as I paid for the wig. I had no idea where they were. As of yet. “Let’s go over the blueprints one more time when we get back.”

He held the door open for me as we left. “Fine, sweetheart. But when we go wherever we go, you’re not going alone.”

 

“He held people in the walls of his building.” I said as I traced over the digital blueprint of his house. “And look.” I pointed to a trapdoor that led all the way down, down below the first floor. “Basement.”

“This building doesn’t have a basement.” Dean pointed out on the blueprint of the apartment building we were in.

I frowned. “There’s gotta be some kind of space below this place.” I sat back down and sifted through the layouts of the city. Underground sewage pipes? It was a classic move pulled by all kinds of TV series. Considering this was one, I wouldn’t be surprised if sewages were the answer all over again.

“There’s one on an older map of the city.” Dean suddenly stood up and brought over a giant sheet of paper.

He leaned over my shoulder as he pointed out to the sewage system. “The pipes go under this building, and there’s a maintenance shaft a few feet away from this building.”

I looked up and our eyes met. “Bingo?”

“Bingo.”

 

“I hate this wig.” I hissed to Dean as we crawled through the sewage pipes.

“I told you you didn’t have to wear it.” He hissed back. “Now move that pretty ass forward before I smack it.”

I stretched out my leg so I hit his hand with my boot. He let out a grunt of pain. “Shut up, and let me take my time, otherwise you’re getting it when we’re back up.”

Sewers stank a lot. I lifted my shirt up and took a breath, but even then the smell made it through the cotton fabric. Dammit. I almost gagged.

The pipes finally opened up into a larger room, and I nearly fell off into said room. I held up my flashlight and shone it across the room. It really was more of a tank than a room.

“Oh, son of a bitch.” I heard along with a thud. I turned around to see Dean on his knees rubbing his elbows.

“Did you fall?” I teased.

“Only for you.” He smirked.

Well. Damn. “So, which way next?” I looked around the giant room and the larger pipes going into each wall.

“Left.” He said and got onto his feet.

So left we went. “I guess I’ll go first.”

Dean held out a hand to boost me up into the pipe, and I managed to scramble into it. And the trek started again. Until a hand closed around my mouth and dragged me further inside.

 

“Ouch…” I grimaced as I opened my eyes. It was dark. Where was I? I reached out a hand and I felt metal around me. Okay, so no way up. No need to panic. Try the sides. Again. Metal. I was locked in something that felt like a coffin. A metal one. Fuck. my head spun and my heart started racing.

No, no. Calm down. I wasn’t buried alive. I hadn’t gone to hell. This wasn’t a coffin. The walls were metal, not wood. But what if I’d been buried in a lead lined one? Wait, was this a casket? 

…

I pressed my lips together as another song wormed its way into my head. And now my brain was playing Cinderella’s Dead. I took a deep breath. I had to stay on track. I had to stay calm. Nothing felt wrong right now. I was fine. Was I? My legs and arms were bruised for sure, but I didn’t think anything was broken.

I swallowed dryly. Okay. I had to get out. I knew there was a small slit near my head considering the soft draft of wind. But that was useless. I needed something more concrete to break out… oh the irony. And even that was ironic. I clawed at the tight metal walls surrounding me, but I felt nothing but wet stickiness. What… Right. Flashlight. It was still in my pocket. Clearly H.H. Holmes’ ghost didn’t care enough to take neither my flashlight nor the gun nor the knife jammed into my boot.

I shone the thin cylinder around and I wanted to throw up. Blood. Everywhere. Along with blonde clumps of hair. Some were still attached to whatever scraps were left of the owner’s scalp. Shit. Shit. I was gonna die down here.

“Hello?” a weak voice called out. A woman.

“Hey!” I angled my flashlight out a tiny thin slit near my head. Another tiny little metal casket, probably like mine, showed up in my narrow field of vision. A pair of blue eyes squinted when my flashlight swung over her vision. “Teresa Ellis?” I asked.

“Y-yeah.”

“Uh… this isn’t gonna help you, but… I came here to help…?” And now I needed help. Dammit. I kicked at the metal entrapment. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to fight it off. Not get trapped myself.

“Oh my God…” Teresa whimpered. “We’re gonna die…! He killed the others!”

Yeah, no doubt. “Okay, okay.” I tried to bring my breathing under control. “Listen to me, Teresa. There’s no point if we’re both panicking, okay? Breath. Slowly. Deeply.” If only I could follow my own advice.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. A few repetitions and my head had stopped spinning like a washing machine. “Okay, Teresa. My husband is down here. He’s looking for us. He came with me. He’s gonna find us. And we’re gonna be okay. Okay?” I heard shuffling and I assumed that she was nodding. “Okay.” I said more for myself.

“He’s coming. Oh my God, he’s coming.” Teresa whispered.

I turned off my flashlight. Nothing to see other than blood and hair. A coldness that had become familiar to me started creeping closer. A spirit. And then a hand reached into my metal box. It brushed over the blonde wig and the owner of it snickered. “Hahaha… such pretty hair…” 

I reached for my knife and jabbed it into his hand. He howled in pain and disappeared. “Pure iron motherfu–” I bit back the rest of the curse. No point cursing out a spirit in front of a terrified woman.

“H-how did you–” Teresa gasped.

“Pure iron. Hurts ghosts and spirits and the like.” I licked my lips.

“S-so… is h-he gone now?” Her voice trembled.

“Not sure–” The metal compartment was blown open and a hand wrapped around my wig, pulling me out.

I couldn’t help but scream as the force pulled on the bobby pins attached to my real hair. He slammed me against the wall and clamped a hand around my mouth. The other went for my throat. Shit shit shit.

I kicked at the spirit but he wouldn’t budge. And spirits were just stronger than humans. I needed iron. My knife had fallen in the compartment when I’d been dragged out. But my gun was still in my pocket.

“I’m gonna kill you.” The pale ghostly face of H.H. Holmes grinned. Sicko. I gripped my gun and shot. He disappeared.

I slid down the wall and gasped for breath.

A warm hand clasped around my arms. I wrenched my arm away and lifted my gun up again.

“Whoa, sweetheart.” It was Dean.

“Dean.” I breathed in relief. “Thank goodness.” I brushed my hand over my exposed black hair and it came back bloody. “The bastard ripped out a few pieces.”

“You okay?” He asked gently.

I nodded. “Yeah. I'm fine. Hope you don’t mind your woman with bruises from a ghost.” I reset the blonde wig on my head. “I still need to be bait right?”

Dean nodded. “Sadly, it’s the only shot we got. There a girl in there?” He looked at the compartment behind him.

I nodded. “Teresa. The one that went missing last night.”

He grabbed a crowbar and got to work. “Hey, we’re gonna get you out of here, alright?” Dean said, and he started prying open the metal box.

Teresa scrambled out when it was finally wide enough to escape and she wrapped her arms around herself. “H-how do we get out of here?” She looked around frantically.

I gripped her shoulders to steady her. “Dean’ll get you out of here, okay?”

She parted her lips with surprise and looked at me. “What about you?”

I caught Dean’s frowning green eyes. “I’ll be taking this bastard down. Dean, you got the salt?”

He reluctantly tossed me a bottle of salt he’d tucked under his flannel. “That gonna be enough?”

I nodded. “Enough to trap a ghost in a circle.” I nodded at the shaking woman in front of me. “You two should go.”

“I’m coming back down as soon as she’s out.”

I nodded. And he left.

I settled for making a circle of salt, using the flashlight to guide most of my shape. It was more of a- I actually didn’t even know what shape that was. But it was continuous, except for the small millimeter right in front of me.

“World’s first serial killer!” I called out. “Come on out! You like your women blonde don’t you!”

The spirit materialised outside the circle. “I’m gonna kill you.” he hissed.

“Then come get me, mister.” I challenged. And he stepped forward. Into the circle. I dumped the rest of the salt in front of me and the circle was closed.

He didn’t seem to notice though, and kept walking forward. I walked backward. At some point, my back hit the metal wall. And his fists slammed into an invisible wall. “Bitch!” he snarled. “Let me out!”

I collected myself and started walking around the circle. But he kept appearing next to me, scaring the literal shit out of me.

“Hey, Sharon!”

I whipped around at the call of my name. “Dean!” I made a run for it. He grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a groove in the floor. He pulled on something and an iron grate fell, shutting in the spirit inside forever. “He’s not getting out of there is he?”

“Nope.” Dean panted. He must have hurried back down. “The floors here are soldered with iron.” he tapped the iron grate. “With this, he’s essentially trapped in an iron circle.”

“So that was the missing piece?” I stared at the grate.

“Yeah.” Dean sighed. “Teresa told me about it. The dead bodies of those hanged here were buried in the same field. Then some kids apparently went spelunking a few years ago and opened this thing. That’s why the disappearances are so recent.”

“Oh.” that made sense. I watched as the spirit continued screaming into the empty room. “Cause the salt isn’t gonna hold. With enough moisture that is gonna get washed away.”

“Well, with the iron. He’s not.” Dean started tugging on my arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

 

I grinned as I watched Dean back up the giant cement mixer over the manhole leading into the underground sewer system. I waved my hands to signal him to stop. He hopped out of the machine and nodded at the manhole cover. “Ready to cement that son of a bitch in?”

“Hell yeah.” I sat down on the ground as the cement poured in.

Dean sat down next to me too and he brushed a hand through my hair. “How’s your head?”

“The wounds are healing. There’s scabs on the comb though. You might not wanna steal mine any time soon.” I laughed.

He cracked a smile. “You know.”

“Hm?”

“I really do prefer your natural hair.” He pinched a strand between his fingers and gently slid them down to the end.

“So you’ll hate me if I ever went and dyed my hair?”

He snorted. “I’d think you’re hot either way. But that cheap blonde wig was not doing you any favors.”

I kissed his hand that was still holding my hair. “I lowkey agree.”

“You do, huh?”

“I do.”

“That's it! That’s the missing mixer!” someone yelled.

“Oh shit.” Dean stood up and pulled me up with him. “Come on, sweetheart. I think we got caught.”

I laughed as I ran behind him. “Like we weren’t gonna be!” We finally stopped when we were a few streets away. I bent over with my hands on my knees and gasped for breath. “Who doesn’t miss a whole cement mixer?”

Dean snickered. “They didn’t notice when I was borrowing it.”

“Oh, what a thief you are, Dean Winchester.”

“And you married me.” He gave a smirk before walking off towards a Biggerson’s. “We should grab something to eat!” He winked and let the door swing shut behind him.

“I did. For some reason I really did.”

Notes:

Turns out people actually read these notes. Sadly there's nothing exciting in my life. Just the fact that summer classes begin in three days. And I have work teaching a class I know absolutely nothing about. I should probably look at that handbook ngl. I've never taught these lessons before. Also gonna pretend like I actually know how to bio experiments well enough to teach them to a bunch of high schoolers. HAHAHA. I really shouldn't have lied on my resume. ANYWAYS. I'm working on the next chapter we'll see how long it takes. Who doesn't love having three jobs and having college in the summer.

Chapter 34: The Usual Suspects

Summary:

"“Again, we’ll be fine.” I rattled the lever to open the window. It wouldn’t budge. “Damn it, I don’t have keys for this.”
“Uhh,” Jessica sheepishly revealed a wire.
“Do I wanna know where that came from?”
She shrugged. “Could have come from a worse place.”
I pressed my lips together. “Whatever. Let’s just open this thing.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Terrible writing
2. I forgot about a major plotpoint
3. Possible inconsistencies.
Y'all I struggle with Jessica's character so much cause she has literally 0 personality traits and episodes for me to actually go off of. Dean and Sam have like 15 seasons, and this chick got like 5 mins in the first episode and then 2 more in that Djinn one, but she left such an impression on me I want her to live. Does that make sense? Doesn't help she's a bombshell of a beauty.

I was rudely woken up by what seemed like a SWAT team in our motel room.

“Oh… fuck.” Dean was already up, his hands in the air. “Just don’t shoot.”

I rubbed my eyes of the sleep and pushed myself up. “Too early for this.” I was yanked down to the floor by a police officer and handcuffed. I grimaced when the cold motel room floor bruised me through the thin cotton of my nightgown.

“Get in the car!”

I glared at the people aiming their guns at me as I was walked over to the police car and unceremoniously pushed in.

“Sharon,” Jessica leaned over and whispered in my ear. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” I told her. At least she was in jeans and a proper T shirt, even if it was three sizes too big considering it belonged to Sam. “Just keep quiet. Alright?”

Jessica was shaking. “I didn’t think I would be arrested right after joining you guys again.”

“Yeah, well.” I got comfortable in the police car as much as I could. “Sadly you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyes were wide with excitement. “This is even better than I hoped for.”

Sammy had insane taste in women.

 

Getting arrested for credit card fraud and possession of too many licenses and ID cards and fake FBI badges was not on today’s list of things to do.

“I’m literally in my jammies, can I at least wear something that resembles clothes?” I complained to the first policeman that walked in.

“Sharon Maris…” the man grinned as he sat down opposite me. “Turned Sharon Winchester nearly five years ago. Married to Dean Winchester.” He interlaced his fingers together. “You live with a man named Bobby Singer and he’s the one listed as guardian on several of your emergency contacts…”

“So?” I crossed my arms.

“Yet you never existed before you turned 18. Witness protection program?”

“You’re allowed to think what you wanna think.”

He sighed. “Well, it’s clear you’re involved with something dangerous.”

Yeah no kidding. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“We ran your prints. Ten different hits. What do you think about that?”

“That y’all’s machine is broken?” I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure why I’m being detained. There has to be a valid reason, right?”

He slammed his fist on the table. “All those fake IDs?”

I shrugged. “You have no proof we used them. Also, is it a crime now to have FBI badges when cosplaying?”

“Cosplaying?”

“Yeah, you know when people dress up as someone else? Those obviously aren’t real FBI badges.”

He nodded slowly. “Your husband. What can you tell me about him?”

I leaned back against my chair. “What do you wanna know?”

“The kind of man he is.”

“Why? You’re questioning me, right now. Why does he matter?”

“Because.” he slammed a folder onto the table. “He’s being held on suspicion of murder.”

I sighed. “Of who?”

“Karen Giles. We caught him red handed.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged.

He changed topics. “You’re a good woman. Bartending license. But the cleanest driving record I’ve ever seen. You were a preschool and middle school teacher. Straight As throughout online college. But then you just drop off the face of the Earth. A fire breaks out in your brother-in-law's apartment. And no one’s heard from you or Sam Winchester again. Why?”

“My husband thought he had a lead on his Dad, so I took a road trip to help him out. Is it a crime to wanna help my husband now?”

“It is a crime if your husband is a criminal.” He dropped another thick folder onto the table. “Now start talking. There’s no need for you to be scared.” His hand reached out, but I retracted mine. “Your husband can’t touch you here.”

“And… why would that be a problem…?” His gaze flickered to the bruises along my bare arms. Oh no. “My husband has never abused me.”

The man raised his hands. “I’m not making any accusations on that. But domestic abuse is–”

“If you expect me to talk bad about Dean Winchester then you are sorely mistaken.”

“We just want the truth.” He held his palms up as a sign of peace. “Genuinely. He’s already been caught red handed at Karen Giles’ murder scene. There is no reason you should be dragged down with him. Just tell us the truth.”

Thank goodness, we had pre-made stories for these. I gave a defeated look and nodded. “Dean couldn’t have killed Tony. We weren’t even here to help her out yet.”

“Help who?”

“Karen Giles.”

“Her dad, Anthony Giles, was army buddies with my father in law. Real close. Dean and Sam knew Anthony Giles since forever. And… Well, Dean and Sam wanted to offer Karen their support.”

That was a blatant lie.

 

Jessica and I came back with two giant cups of coffee each.

“‘Man’s throat slit without a trace’.” Sam read off his computer.

“Next case?” Jessica slid in next to him.

I nudged Dean with my knee and he scooted over. “Yeah,” he answered. “Anthony Giles. He's a Baltimore Lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.”

“Throat was slit, room was clean. No DNA, no prints.” Sam added.

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Jessica read a little further.

I kept sipping on my coffee.

“Or it's an invisible killer.” Sam gave a small smile.

Jessica was already brushing past Sam. “Let’s check it out.”

 

“So you see. We couldn’t have exactly Tony. Dean was with us that day and we weren’t even in town.”

“What happened next?” the policeman tilted his head.

“Went to see Karen. Make sure she was alright.”

Lies.

 

“Insurance. I completely forgot about the insurance.” Karen, a young brunette with dark rimmed glasses gasped as she stared at the fake IDs we’d piled onto her coffee table.

Jessica placed a hand over hers. “We are very sorry for your loss, but the company needs to conduct their own investigation.”

“I hope you understand.” I nodded along.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” She wiped a few tears from her eyes.

Dean and Sam were rummaging and exploring the house for any clues.

“If there is anything at all that you can remember about the day your husband died…” Jessica said gently. She was taking on this questioning role pretty well.

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner.” Her voice wavered. “He called and said he was having computer troubles and that- that he had to work late. That was it.”

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?”

“No. No, it's like I told the police, I-I have no idea.”

“Anything unusual that he mentioned about that day?” I continued.

“Unusual?”

“Yeah, like… anything out of the ordinary. Honestly anything. Like hearing voices, or- or maybe he saw something strange?”

She swallowed dryly and thought for a moment. “He had a nightmare the day before he died.”

“Nightmare?” I prompted.

She nodded. “Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.” She looked at me weirdly.

“Do you know what she looked like?”

“What the hell does it matter what she looked like?” she snapped.

“Just in case that this woman was spying on him and he started seeing it in his dreams. As a way for his mind to remind him that something is wrong.” I lied easily.

Her mouth formed an ‘o’. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.”

 

“So you see, Karen was… pretty devastated. We just gave her a hug and asked her to call us if she needed anything.” I gave the police officer.

He hummed. “Now, I’m gonna need you to be completely honest with me.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was I caught? Nah, I was good at lying.

“We have an eyewitness. Someone saw four people, fitting your and your, uh, family’s description, breaking into Giles’ office.”

I barked out a laugh. “No way. Look, I’ll admit it was wrong to enter a crime scene maybe. But… y’all weren’t letting Karen in and she was just desperate for answers. And we didn’t even break in! She gave us the key!”

She had not.

 

The door clicked open. I pocketed the lockpick and pushed the door open. Sam, Dean, Jessica, and I ducked under the police tape and strode into the house, with our flashlights lighting up the interior.

“Anthony’s body was found here.” I noted, looking at the body drawn in white chalk on the floor.

“‘Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible.’” Jessica read off the small label on the side.

Dean whistled. “What do you guys think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?”

“Bolded and italicised.” I walked towards him.

“Sure sounds like it.” Jessica wandered around the office. “He also saw that woman at the foot of his bed.”

Dean’s hand brushed over a paper on the table. “Huh, look at that.”

“Dana Shulps.” I read.

“Lots of Dana Shulps.” He added. His flashlight wandered over the entire desk. “Like lots of them. She’s everywhere.”

“Huh.” That name sounded familiar to me.

“Someone he was cheating with?” Jessica proposed.

“Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” Dean nudged me with his elbow. I tapped his boot with mine. “So vengeful spirit going after cheating men?”

Sam made a tutting noise from one of the windows. He had breathed onto it, and the window fogged up to reveal a word. ‘Dana Shulps’.

“I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird.” Sam turned to look at us.

“Maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl.” Jessica pointed out.

Dean and I nodded. “Then let’s see what we can find out.”

The answer was nothing. “Not a single Dana Shulps anywhere.” I flopped down to the floor.

Dean did the same and threw down the last file on his side. “Nothing here too.”

“Same.” Jessica put back the final book she’d picked up from the bookshelf. “Sam?”

“Nothing. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least.”

“So what now?” Dean asked.

“Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?”

“And by close you mean…”

I pushed myself off the floor and went to sit down on the armrest of Sam’s chair that wasn’t occupied by Jessica.

“Would have said thirty minutes, but with three brains, maybe fifteen?” Sam wrapped an arm around Jessica’s waist. I tried to ignore the way Jessica squirmed.

“Awesome.” Dean eyed the way Jessica was leaning into Sam. “So I guess I just get to, uh, hang out.”

Before I could open up my laptop to help Sam hack into the computer, Dean had picked me up and placed me on the table. “Or I could have some fun.”

“Dude!” Sam shot us a disgusted look. “Not in front of us!”

“You can say that once you’re not feeling up your own girlfriend in front of your brother.”

Jessica snorted. Dean rolled his eyes.

I blushed when his hands gripped my hips. I practically dropped my laptop on my lap to keep him from getting closer. He frowned. “Uh, why don’t you go ask Karen about Dana Shulps?” I fanned my face with my hand to get some of the heat away from my cheeks. “Cause we’ll be a bit busy here.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “As long as it’s not a threesome, we’re cool.”

“Dean!” Sam, Jessica, and I hissed.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” He threw his hands in defeat and marched out of the room.

 

“So, Dean went back to check up on Karen. Cause she’d been pretty shaken up. And we didn’t want her to worry too much.”

“And why didn’t any of you go with him?” the policeman demanded.

“Cause… we were going back to the motel?” I tilted my head. “How’d you know about the motel anyway?”

“We found a motel matchbook in Karen’s house. Your motel was circled in red.”

Dammit Dean! “He didn’t kill anyone.”

I jumped when the policeman slammed the table. “I heard the 911 call. Karen was terrified! She said someone was in the house.”

Huh. I could guess what had happened based on this story and Dean’s.

 

“So she was dead by the time you got there?” I asked as Dean finally got back from Karen’s.

“Uhuh. Poor thing’s throat was slit open. Same as her husband.” He shrugged off his jacket and threw it on an armchair. “You guys find anything?”

I shook my head. “Nothing about Dana Shulps.” I walked over to the pot of coffee and started pouring out a cup. “Coffee?”

He shook his head. “Just a beer will do.”

“You can get that yourself.”

He pouted. “Come on, sweetheart.” he drawled.

I rolled my eyes but grabbed him a bottle from the mini fridge anyway.

The two of us got comfortable against the headboard of the king sized bed, our backs supported by the fluffy motel pillows. “The sugar isn’t sugaring.” I complained.

He used the ring on his right hand to pop off the cap of his beer. “The beer is beering though.”

“Good for you,” I mumbled and swallowed the bitter coffee. “What else did you find at her house?”

“More Dana Shulps.” he frowned. “But then the sirens blew up outside and I left. Didn’t wanna be caught.”

 

And we all knew how that turned out. With me in an interrogation room. “Dean was back by midnight. And we were sleeping after that. Until you guys unlawfully arrested us.”

“Arrest is a strong word. We’re just holding you here for forty eight hours until we can get the truth.”

“And I already told you the truth.” I narrowed my eyes at the man.

He gave me a disdainful look. “We’ll be back.”

And the cold metal door slammed shut.

I rubbed my forehead out of annoyance. Really? I hated this.

But Dana Shulps… why was that name so familiar? I wracked my brain for anything, literally anything. An episode? Was there an episode like this? I frowned. Yeah, there was. The one where two of the police officers were dating in secret and one of them had turned out to be behind the murders. I shuddered. Dean, Sam, and I had been arrested so many times it was hard to try and figure out which was that one. But… this one definitely felt like the one.

Alright. Dana Shulps. It wasn’t a name for sure. I knew that. If this really was that case then it meant something else. I dropped my head to the cold metal table. I winced at the hit, but my brain still refused to work right. What in the world was the actual word!

 

“I’ve, uh, got something for you.”

I looked up at the sight of the new man, lawyer, my instincts provided.

He cleared his throat. “Uhh, your husband sent you this.” He passed me a folded piece of notepad paper.

I quickly unfolded it and held back a grin. It was a street name. Ashland.

“Now,” he put down his briefcase. “If we could discuss your husband’s case–”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m-I’m Jeffrey Kraus from the public defender’s office.” His eyes trailed down my form and his cheeks dusted pink. “I hope that paper was useful.”

Right. I was still in my nightgown. Dammit. “Right. Yeah. Well, Dean didn’t do it.”

Ashland. Of course it was a street name. Now I had to get out of here. An excellent time to use my telekinesis. I spotted the keys the nervous lawyer was fumbling with. I almost felt sorry for the man because I was going to have to steal them.

“Good, that’s what we wanna hear. Of course.” Kraus got his hand out of his pocket and started taking out pieces of paper to start writing. “What time did Dean Winchester leave for and get back from Karen’s house?”

“He was gone for a grand total of forty minutes. Mind you there was a bit of a commute too.” I tried to edge the keys out of his pocket and it moved just a tiny bit.

“Ah, what can you tell me about the relationship between him and Karen Giles?”

“Hmm, pretty close. He respected her. Wouldn’t have murdered her in cold blood. Y’know?” The keys were now dangling out of his pocket.

“Uhuh.” he said and continued writing down things.

I managed to get the keys to float into my hands, and I quietly dropped them into the tiny loose pocket in my nightgown. I held back a triumphant grin. “Anything else you wanna know?”

“Uh, yes, actually what about–”

“We need you,” said an armed police officer. “With the other one.”

Dean. Was he gonna do that confession thing? That I found so hot several years ago?

The door to the room was slammed shut and locked from the outside by the armed guard. The lawyer just stormed off into Dean’s room. I eyed the lock that had clicked shut and then looked up at the security camera. A tiny wire was poking out from under it. If I snapped it then I would be able to disable it and escape using the keys.

So I set my teeth and got to work pulling at the wire with my mind.

It stretched and tugged and the light signalling it was on started flickering. Great. I kept working at it even through the throbbing that was starting to take over, and finally the wire snapped. The light completely went dark and I was left unsupervised.

From there, I had to work fast. I jammed the key into the lock and twisted. It opened with a soft click and I poked my head out. No one was in the hallway. Everyone was either in Dean’s interrogation room or focused deeply on it. Huh. Smart man with his distractions.

Someone tapped my hand and I spun around with the keys jutting out from between my fingers. ‘Jessica’ I mouthed at the sight of her. ‘Where’s Sam?’

She shook her head. ‘Dunno’.

I caught a camera in the corner. ‘Jessica, we’re in a blindspot right now. Which room were you in?’

She pointed to the door opposite mine. ‘That one.’

“Is there a window?”

She nodded quietly.

“Let’s go in there then.” I locked the door to my room and walked into hers. “We’re gonna go out the window.” I made sure to pull out the wire of the camera in her room too.

She looked at me with shock. “What?”

I glanced at her jean clad muscular legs and the tightness of her shirt around her arms. “You’ll be fine.”

“It’s a four storey drop!”

“Again, we’ll be fine.” I rattled the lever to open the window. It wouldn’t budge. “Damn it, I don’t have keys for this.”

“Uhh,” Jessica sheepishly revealed a wire.

“Do I wanna know where that came from?”

She shrugged. “Could have come from a worse place.”

I pressed my lips together. “Whatever. Let’s just open this thing.”

She started getting to work picking at the lock keeping the window closed. It slid open. “But how are we–”

I craned my neck out and pointed to the sky. “Our goal isn’t down. It’s up. Until we can get to a pipe to climb down with.”

“Oh.” she hummed in realisation. “That’s smart.”

“Right?” I gripped the top window sill and pulled myself to stand on the window. “Come on, we gotta hurry.”

 

“Do I even want to know how you guys escaped?” Sam stared at us.

“I stole the keys.” “I used the wire from my bra.”

Bruh. “That's smart. Sam, you should start wearing one.”

He reddened. “Absolutely not.” He shuddered as if to get rid of the thought. I held back a grin. He was so adorable sometimes.

“So Ashland.” Jessica and I sat on either side of Sam.

“Wanna start breaking into the police database?” I raised an eyebrow.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, you do that. I’m gonna go check out the local library.”

“What for?” Jessica said in surprise.

“Because sometimes they have newspapers that have better pictures than whatever the police took.” I hit enter and I was in the police network. “See?” I showed her a grainy photo. “Besides, I’m sure they have a restricted section with much older cases hidden in there.” I smirked.

She caught on. “You’re right. That police website is shit.”

“You wanna go with Sam and see what you guys can find? Physical paper research is arguably harder than scrolling and clicking through websites.”

Sam looked at me worriedly. “You’ll be fine?”

“I’m great.” I looked down at my thin cotton gown. “I’ll see y’all when you get back?”

“Yep.”

 

It took a long time to ctrl+P through the crime scene photos of every woman that had died on or near Ashland street. I took it a step further and even went for those arrested on it. In the end, I had a whole folder dedicated to just Ashland female murder victims sitting on my desktop. I sighed. How was I going to narrow down all of this?

A soft knock on the door caught my attention. I gripped my gun and slowly opened the door. It was a female police officer.

“J-jim Rockford?” she said hesitantly.

I put my gun down. Dean must have sent her. “Come on in.” But I kept my gun in hand. “Here to trick and arrest me?”

She shook her head and started pulling up her sleeves. “No, but, uh, your husband– he told me to come to this motel… and to show you this.”

There were cold bruises around her wrists. Like someone had branded her with a freezing hand.

“I saw this woman.”

Woman. “Tell me more.” I cleared up the mess on the table, and she took a seat on one of the chairs. I bit my tongue to keep myself from complaining that she was sitting in mine. “When did you get these?”

“After I saw her. This makes no sense, she was a spirit!”

Same energy as she was a fairy! “Okay, and how did you know she was a spirit?”

She opened and closed her mouth. “What else could she have been? But it makes no sense. Spirits ?”

“Describe what you saw. Exactly. What you felt. What happened. Where did this happen. Anything and everything.”

“I was in the bathroom. Then it got so so cold all of a sudden. I thought the AC was on blast, but then the temperature dropped so unnaturally low. And I saw her in the mirror. She-she was this pale thing. And her eyes, they were this deep dark red…” she shuddered. “Her throat was slit open. She tried to talk to me, but nothing came out, just blood.”

Understandably. The thing had had her throat slit open.

“Okay, does that match any of the pictures here?” I opened up the folder.

“What– these are from our official database.” She looked at me in horror.

I shrugged. “Well, we also did break out of jail. So.”

She shook her head in disbelief, but she went through the pictures. Until she paused on one particular one. “This one.” It was a booking photo of a young woman.

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago? Ring a bell?”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?”

I opened up her file. “Arrested twice for heroin and all that stuff. Did you ever work in narcotics?”

She nodded. “Pete and I did. But I don’t even remember her.”

“Hmm,” I thought for a moment. “It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything.” I closed my laptop. “Welp, I guess we’re checking it out ourselves. Let’s see if we can find her body.”

I picked up my phone and started dialing Sam’s number. “Yo, Sam.”

“Hey, what is it Sharon? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. You might wanna come back though. We’ve got a guest and a lot of information.”

Thirty minutes later, there was still no sight of Sam. I’d even managed to change clothes and wrangle my hair into a semi acceptable ponytail. “They were caught.” the police officer suddenly said. “They got arrested for breaking and entering. Was your sister in law with him too?”

I nodded. “Damn.” But it was suspicious. My phone soon dinged with something. I picked it up and read ‘poughkeepsie.’ “We gotta go.” I grabbed my hunting essentials. “You have a car right?”

Her lips parted in surprise but she grabbed her jacket and followed after me. “I brought my squad car.”

“Good enough.”

I spotted the black police car easily and jumped in with her. “Where are we going?” She asked as she strapped in.

“Ashland Street. 2911 was the number I think.” I just realised I still didn’t know her name. “What’s your name again?”

“Diana Ballard.”

I took note of it. And then forgot it the next second.

 

Another case, another dark and creepy warehouse. “What are we looking for?” The police officer asked.

I shrugged. “I got no clue, to be honest. But anything that stands out. Anything that seems unusual.” I ushered her to check out the bottom floor. “I’m gonna go check up the stairs. Yell if you need anything.”

I didn’t wait to hear her response. I headed up the creaky stairs only to be faced with a whole lot of nothing. Empty crates, empty everything. There was nothing that screamed supernatural up here.

But down below they did. “Sharon? Sharon!” the police officer screamed.

I jogged down the stairs, praying that she hadn’t died, already. And she hadn’t. She trembled with her flashlight aimed at the window. “She’s there.”

I saw her too. Claire Becker. Standing right there with a deep cut through her throat and gurgling blood. Her bony pale arms reached up and pointed at something. I turned around to follow. A brick wall. “Is your body there?”

She slowly turned her nearly detached neck towards me. And slowly, but surely she gave the slightest of nods, before vanishing.

“Alright. Help me break that thing.” I put down my duffel bag and grabbed a hammer. I passed her the extra one.

She and I grunted as we slammed our hammers into the wall. It finally gave way enough for a hole we could probably duck through. I shone my flashlight inside. “Interesting.” I noted. “There’s a body inside.” covered up in plastic wrap, stenching up the whole warehouse now. Poor thing. She’d been rotting here for months.

“Not something you see everyday.”

I gave her a look. And she inhaled sharply. “The grave desecrations. This is pretty much everyday for you.”

“Yeah,” I grabbed the bag by the bottom and pulled it out. “Help me cut this thing.”

She held her breath and tried not to wince as I cut the plastic wrap down completely. The poor thing had decomposed, and now just bones barely remained. Though some parts of her body were still relatively unharmed by time. “Look at her wrists.” I noted.

“Just like mine.” the police officer whispered.

“Anything else about her that stands out?”

The police officer’s hands trembled as she reached out to the collar of the corpse. “This necklace.”

I crouched down next to her. “What about it?”

“I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” Her hand then fell back to her own neck and revealed an exact replica of it. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

 

The body had finally been burned. Claire had appeared again. This time her mouth had curled into the gentlest of smiles even when blood pooled inside. But she hadn’t disappeared with the burning of her bones. She lingered longer, and her mouth formed the word ‘please’. And she only vanished with the daylight streaming in from outside. I raised my hand to act as a shade and the words ‘Ashland Sup’ appeared on the windows where the glue had remained several years after the sign had been taken down. The ‘plies’ of the word was much less noticeable.

“Dana Shulps.” I noted. One salt and burn done. But the case was far from over.

“I’ve got a question.”

I turned to look at the police woman who had her thumbs hooked through her belt loops. “Shoot.”

“If she’s a vengeful spirit as your husband had stated. Then why did she tell us where her bones were?”

“Cause she’s not a vengeful spirit.” I noted. “She’s a death omen.”

“A-a what?” she cocked her head in confusion.

“A death omen. She’s not here for vengeance or anything. She’s not even the one who killed those people. She’s trying to warn them. She’s trying to get justice. She wants us to know who her killer is.” Wait… if this was that episode, then… “You have a partner right?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God.” She ran for her car. “About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Ah. “Claire was a heroin dealer.” Well shit.

 

“All right. Thanks.” The police officer got off the phone. “There’s an issue.”

“What?”

“Pete just left the precinct with Dean, Sam, and Jessica.” She floored the accelerator.

“Oh yeah. You might wanna call an ambulance.”

She was already rapid dialing on her phone. “I really hope they’re okay.”

“I’m more worried for that partner of yours.” I looked at her with a smile. “We’re good at what we do. If you’re calling an ambulance for anyone, it’s not gonna be for my family.”

 

And I was right. We came across the other police car, where Dean, Sam, and Jessica were standing almost bored around a hogtied man on the grass.

“Sharon!” Dean broke into a grin when he spotted me exiting the car. “Hey, sweetheart. Took ya long enough.”

“I can’t believe I just fought a police officer.” Jessica was still buzzing with excitement.

Sam bumped her shoulder with his. “You’ll get used to it, Jess.”

“Yeah, but like… can you believe it?”

“D-diana!” the man on the ground gasped. “Help me!”

The female police officer just fixed him with a glare and the barrel of her gun. “I know what you did.”

“Wh-what?” the man shook his head with a gasp of disbelief. “Diana, you know me. What are you even accusing me of?! They’re the criminals here, they tried to beat me and escape–”

“And yet, here we are.” Dean said snarkily. “We didn’t run away, did we, officer?”

The lady next to me had her hands shaking. “Tell me Pete. That girl. Did you kill her?”

“What girl?” the man played dumb.

A violent shriek rang through the forest. Claire’s ghost appeared again, standing behind the male officer. He jumped and stared dead into her red eyes. “What the hell? You’re supposed to be dead! I-i- This can’t be possible.”

“Cause you killed her?” Sam challenged. “She can’t be here because you’re the one who killed her, aren’t you?”

“She was a death omen.” I whispered to Dean. His lips formed an ‘o’ in understanding.

“And you tried to force the crimes on us, didn’t you?” Jessica cocked her hip.

The man started sputtering. “I had no choice! Claire was trying to turn me in!” He turned to the female officer. “Diana, I love you. Let’s just put this all behind us. And start fresh–”

“So you did kill Claire.” the woman whispered. “What about Tony? And Karen?”

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.”

Dean, Sam, Jessica, and I looked at each other with equal ‘wtf’ faces. This kind of drama was also not on my to do list.

“It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” the man kept pleading. And then he, like the pathetic roach he was, started crawling towards Diana who had started crying. “Please, please Diana…”

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?”

“I told you. These four kids are a gift! We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just a few more dead scumbags.”

“Hey!” we, the four ‘scumbags,’ protested.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.”

Diana lowered her gun. No problem. I still had mine. I stepped closer to Dean and Sam pulled Jessica closer. “Thank you. Thank you.” Pete laughed pathetically.

But not for long, because Diana had her gun up the second he turned his back. The bullet went straight into his back and he slumped over.

Above him, Claire’s ghost started flickering in and out of existence. The corners of her lips curled into the prettiest smile I’d seen all day despite the pool of blood in her mouth. And then she disappeared.

 

“What now?” Dean asked, leaning against the squad car.

“We go back to doing what we do best, no?” I relaxed against his side.

“I meant for her.” He was watching Diana who was currently holding pressure over her partner’s wound.

“You’re worried for her?”

“She just shot the person she loved. And he’s dying.” His green gaze flickered to mine. “I know a thing or two about that.”

I sighed. “Dean. He's not dead.”

“But he’s dying.”

“In case you don’t remember, I dealt with the same thing with you.” I reminded him. It was a low blow.

He flinched. “Don’t gotta say it like that sweetheart.”

“It’s true though, Dean.” I straightened up a little. “And you know what?”

“What?”

“I think I’m feeling a little better.” I said truthfully. “I actually wanted to make jokes today. I think I referenced a few memes.”

“I still don’t know what that word means.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“I’m not from the future, and I don’t know what that means, but I know that’s an insult.”

I cracked a smile and dropped my forehead against his shoulder. “See? I told you I was feeling better.”

“You wanna go shopping sometime?”

“Is that a date?”

He looked up when sirens started blaring. “Up for a marathon date, first?”

I groaned. “No, but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Sam and Jessica were already sprinting and yelling ‘last one’s a rotten egg’ to us.

“You gonna be okay?” I yelled to Diana.

She merely gave a thumbs up.

I took off running and Dean stammered in protest. “Last one’s a rotten egg!”

Notes:

Uhh damn. 54 likes? People actually read this sh*tfest? HAHAHAHA. My friend almost saw me typing this in class and Istg I angled my laptop away so fast. I appreciate the support yall. Keeps me and my rotted brain motivated.
Oh I went to the Stray Kids Day 1 concert in Arlington last week. idk why I'm asking but did anyone go- How do I still have my hearing and voice after rawdogging a three hour concert with no water and no earplugs? Idk. I also started watching Tracker for Jensen Ackles. I stayed for Justin Hartley, and now my mom's in love with Justin cause he looks like my dad did apparently when he was younger (and then I wanted to crawl into a hole cause Justin is hot af) while my dad just looks at her sadly as she and I fangirl. She legit starts crying when Colter gets injured tho, and I'm here on the side like "hot men look hotter when they're injured in hot places like their hot abs" cause then they take their shirts off hahaha... I'll check myself into a mental asylum now.
Depressingly enough my favorite Voice Actor just left his voice acting agency after 30 years of being with them (dude is 42 yall do the math). WHO'S GONNA VOICE MY DAZAI NOW. I JUST BOUGHT NO LONGER HUMAN TOO. AND HE'S MY LOCKSCREEN. BUT HIS VOICE IS WHAT MADE ME FALL IN LOVEEEE.
Anyways have fun guys. I have an exam next week.

Chapter 35: Crossroad Blues

Summary:

"“I wouldn’t wish Hell even on my worst enemy.” I hated how the tears pricked my eyes. “Really, it was-it was the worst thing I’ve–” I took a deep breath that seemed to steady my breath somewhat. I put on my best blank expression. The memories and screams were rushing back in against my will. I thought I’d gotten better. But clearly not."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Prolly inaccurate descriptions of PTSD
2. Hell
3. Terrible Writing
umm. this thing sucks. again. have fun.

“Jess said she needed a minute to recollect after all that.” Sam said as he sat down on his bed.

“Wimp.” Dean commented.

Sam frowned. “Dude, she’s job hunting too. We’re not all deadbeats like you.”

“Hey, I’m not a deadbeat.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and spun me around in my office chair. “I’ve got a perfectly beautiful wife. And a whole lot of cash to keep her happy–” I stopped the spin and jammed my foot into his thigh painfully. He hissed.

“I’m the one who works hard for money in this relationship.”

“Hey, credit card fraud isn’t easy! And how do you think I’m so good at pool anyway?”

“Right now, she’s looking at another editor job.” Sam completely brushed past our quarrel. “So did you guys find anything to go after?”

I grabbed one tan folder off the mess of papers on the table. “This is the only one that sounds like something we can deal with.” I tossed it to him, and he caught it easily. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.” He read through the newspaper clippings I’d gathered. “Oh he called animal control a few days earlier.”

“Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” Dean asked.

“Two days earlier. But what’s so surprising about this?” He looked at me quizzically.

“Black Dog.” I pointed out. “He called specifically for a Black Dog.”

“Did he actually say Black Dog?”

“Mhm.” I nodded. “A vicious wild black dog. Funny thing is. There’s no way a black dog is making it up past the doorman or the many guards or that many flights of stairs without anyone reporting it. Last time I checked, dogs don’t know how to use the elevator either. It's even more weird cause no one else saw it, and it’s not on any security cameras. After that call, nothing from him. Doesn’t leave his penthouse, doesn’t call anyone else, doesn’t show up for work– I mean nothing. And then he jumps off his own building.”

“It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but…” Sam started brainstorming. “Some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty,”

Dean smirked. “Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg,”

Uhhh, what? Sam and I looked at Dean weirdly.

“Dude,” we said in unison.

“What?” Dean’s smirk slipped off. “They could!”

 

“My feminist side is fuming right now.” I mumbled when I found out my role in the investigation. “ Note taker?” I glared at my clipboard. “I don’t even get to ask questions?”

Dean lowered his voice. “You weren’t much of a feminist last night.”

“Guys, I’m right here.” Sam deadpanned.

I smacked his arm with the clipboard. “Oh shut up. You’re the one who came up with this Architectural Digest tribute nonsense.”

I stomped up to the buzzer to get ourselves into the high rise. “Well, your mute little note taking female can’t talk so go on.” I crossed my arms and watched as the two brothers snickered and talked to the man on the other side of the buzzer.

We were directed to a fancy expensive looking elevator and told to go to the top floor. Damn rich people.

Dean leaned down to whisper. “You know this is cause of the rich old man’s ego, right? If you were asking questions he wouldn’t answer them right.”

I sighed. “I know, Dean. But it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

The elevator dinged and my heels clicked behind the brothers’ quieter cheap dress shoes. They pressed the doorbell to the suite and we were led in by a handsomely dressed man that looked like a butler. Crazy rich people.

We sat down on the monotone minimalistic couch that was far too cold to feel comfortable. When the rich guy finally showed up, we stood and shook hands. I held back a shudder when his eyes raked me up and down before settling on the clipboard and putting on a smug smile. Sexist creep.

 

“So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?” Sam asked.

I scribbled down something random when he responded. “That's right. Now one more time, this is for…?”

“A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest.” Dean flashed a smile. The man barked out a laugh. “This funny?”

“No, it… it's just– a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind… well, he gets another tribute.” He gave a bitter glare at the floor. I scribbled some more.

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat. “Any idea why he'd do such a thing?”

“I-I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life.”

“How so?”

“He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable,” His eyes glanced at me and I expertly avoided them by scribbling more on the clipboard. “But next to him, I… and it wasn't always that way, either.”

“No?” Dean pressed.

“You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent.” His voice got angrier. “Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive.” Oh yeah, I’d been working there last night. Made a good few hundred bucks.

“Right. So what changed?”

“You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing…” He sighed. “He starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart…” He walked up and stared out the giant glass wall down onto the city below. “It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why… why just throw it away?”

Oh. Oh no. Oh fuck no. My clipboard clattered to the ground.

“Everything alright, ma’am?” the old man turned to me.

Dean picked up the clipboard and placed it back on my lap. “Are you okay?”

My hands were cold and it felt like all the blood had left my face. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Um, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

The rest of the interview I could barely focus on what the men were saying. My head spun, and I kept swallowing down bile that kept rising back up every time I connected the dots and came to the same realisation. Black dog. Ten years. Becoming a genius overnight and dying just as suddenly just ten years later right after seeing and hearing black dogs.

This wasn’t happening. We couldn’t already be on the crossroad demon episode.

 

Sam crawled into the back of the Impala with me. He lifted my feet up and placed them over his thighs as he sat down. “You doing okay?”

“Mhm.” I lifted the wet rag on my neck. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“So…” Sam started speaking slowly. “You’re nauseous. And I know last night was… intense for you and Dean–”

“I’m not pregnant, Sam. It takes a few days or even weeks for the sperm to actually fertilise the egg.”

“Uhh, I’m sure you guys are more active than that.”

I pushed myself up. “I got my period this morning, so you can rest easy for this month.” I’d been so happy when that painful moment came. “Why do you care so much about your siblings’ sex life anyway?”

“I’m-i’m not.” he stammered. “It’s just– if I’m gonna be an uncle, I wanna know, so Jess and I can be prepared and set the dates right.”

“Dates?” I glanced at his ring finger. And then back up. Before realising there was a circular object tucked under his dress shirt. “Holy shi–cow. When ?”

He looked excited. His hazel eyes filled with the same joy, if not more, when he’d announced to me and Dean that he’d gotten into Stanford. Sam pulled out the band of gold he’d been hiding this whole time. I had no fricking idea . “But yeah. Before she left. I thought that maybe… you know… we were ready for something more permanent now.” He had no idea. He had no idea of what was to come. “Sharon? Hey, hey…” His voice sounded distant. “You gotta breathe. Alright?”

Fuck. I hadn’t even realised I was hyperventilating.

“Come on, Sharon. With me.”

I could barely make out his counts, but I focused on his more exaggerated inhales and exhales. Slowly, but steadily, the ringing in my ears calmed down and my vision cleared.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. His thumbs were rubbing circles over my wrists.

I managed a shaky nod. “Sorry, I-I just–”

He felt for the golden metal still hanging around his neck. “Is this gonna be a mistake?”

I had no idea if it was. He’d looked so happy when he told me. I forced a smile. “You guys are gonna make a great couple.” And they really did. The way they looked out for each other, and the way they managed to laugh and joke and get serious at the same time… it was a match ma– a perfect match. They were a perfect match. Heaven and Hell be damned. “I’m happy for you, Sam.” And that was the honest truth. “I’m so happy for you and Jessica.” I made a ‘come hither’ motion with my hands and he practically dove into my arms.

“Thanks,” he was shaking by now. “That-that means a lot.”

“Aww, is Sammy baby crying?” I laughed even as he practically squeezed the air out of me.

“I’m-i’m not.” he argued, but I could feel a wet spot forming on my shoulder.

I rocked us back and forth for a moment and closed my eyes. I had to keep these two safe and happy. That was the least I could do as his self proclaimed older sister. “I really wish you two all the best.”

He nodded and pulled back. When he did, he had the biggest smile on his face. “So I have your blessing?”

“You always had mine.”

He let out a breath and straightened up. “Do you think Dean will approve?”

“Approve? He’ll approve even if you said you were gonna marry another man.”

“I’m not-”

“Whatever Sammy. Just know. Dean cares about you most in the world. If it makes you happy, he’ll be fine with it. Grumble a little, maybe, but he’ll come around.”

“And Dad?”

“Same. A little more tricky to handle, but… he does care, Sammy.” I sat up straighter and smoothed over my suit. “And if he has anything to say, then well… he’s got me and Dean to go through. Bobby even. That man loves you to bits.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. He fixed his already perfect collar and looked out the Impala window. “Dean’s here.”

“Oh yeah,” I looked at how confidently and smugly he was walking back to the car. “And he’s got information.”

 

“Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real.” was the first thing he said when he slid into the driver’s seat.

I raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Dean?”

“Right. Right.” He smirked at the sight of my face. “Can a man not appreciate a beauty when he sees one?”

I pointed out the window to another sandy haired man in a tailored suit on the opposite sidewalk. “So I can flirt with him? Cause he’s my type.”

Dean’s smirk fell off. “Come on, sweetheart. I was kidding.”

“Can you two not do this while I’m sitting right here ?” Sam groaned.

“Fine,” Dean kicked his legs up onto the front bench. “You feeling better?” He turned to face me.

I nodded. “Better.” I shifted in my seat. “Did you ask her about black dogs?”

“Uhuh.” He pulled out a stack of papers. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh,” He pulled off a Post it Note from the stack and held it up. “I don’t know what this is.”

Sam started laughing. “You mean Carly's MySpace address?”

“MySpace? What the fuck is that?” Dean frowned as he tried to make sense of it.

“Dude. You don’t know what MySpace is?” I draped myself over his shoulders over his seat.

He tilted his head back until our eyes met. “Seriously, is that some kind of porn site?”

“Oh, Dean. We have so much to teach you.”

 

A small part of me had been hoping that this was the case of some random black dog lore Sam had been yapping about earlier. But the doctor’s situation just made my anxiety worse. Dean and Sam were investigating a couple other people that had called into animal control for black dogs.

I kept my smile plastered on my face as I talked to the maid of the giant mansion with a driveway flanked by an impossibly manicured perfect lawn.

“The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago.”

I nodded at her words. “Are you aware of where the Doctor went?”

“I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where.” She shrugged. “That stray dog, did you find it finally?”

It was hard to keep myself focused on her and not the nausea building up again. “That’s what I’m here for, actually. Have you happened to have seen it yourself?”

She shook her head. “Never even heard it actually. I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…” she trailed off. “She was chief surgeon at the hospital. Youngest in the history of the place.”

“Oh,” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “When did she become chief surgeon? Youngest is kind of crazy.”

“Ten years ago when she was thirty two.” the maid responded.

“Uhh, by the way, just out of curiosity… Do you know if the Doctor frequented a bar or something? I think I saw her the other day at this place called Lloyd’s Bar, but I’m not quite sure. I hate to not have recognised someone so inspiring.”

“Yeah…” the maid nodded. “She frequented Lloyd’s Bar. Great dive by the way, am I right?” Her brows suddenly furrowed. “Ma’am are you alright? You look a little pale.”

“Oh-oh yeah, I’m fine.” I started backing away from the front door. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch if we find anything.”

 

We ended up at Lloyd’s Bar again. Not to make money, but to find out about the mysteriously dying ten years after becoming an overnight success people.

I was too focused on keeping my breathing steady to even notice that Dean and Sam had stopped.

“Hey, Sharon,” I turned around at Sam’s call of my name. “You know these flowers?” I made my way back to where Sam and Dean were standing over a random collection of yellow flowers growing at the edge of the crossroads.

“They’re, uh, what do you call ‘em.” Dean closed his eyes and tilted his head back like that would help him remember.

“Used for certain rituals…” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yarrow flowers.” I provided.

Sam snapped his fingers. “Yes, that.”

“Summoning rituals.” Dean snapped his eyes open and knelt down to them. His eyes followed a giant trail of them, growing on each corner of the crossroad. “Think someone planted these?”

“Probably. There’s nothing but weed here.” Sam stood up along with his brother.

Dean walked to the center of the crossroad. “This seem about dead center?” He picked up a stick and started stabbing it into the ground. He hit something with a thump and he grinned. “Yahtzee.”

He knelt down and started digging deeper and wider to retrieve whatever was buried under there.

Sam in the meantime placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,”

I looked up. “What?”

“You’re not… you’re not your usual self. And I just think that there is something wrong, and that you might benefit from talking to someone.”

I held back a shudder. “Bad things are going to happen, Sam.” I wrapped my flannel tighter around myself. “And I don’t know how to stop them.” I glanced at his chest however, where the gold band was hiding right at my eye level under his shirt. “You’re gonna have to be strong, Sam.”

He grew tense, but he nodded. “Okay. But whatever it is, we’ll get through this together. I hope you know that.”

“Got something.” Dean walked over to us with a box in his hand.

The three of us peered inside as he opened it, revealing a few bones and a glass jar of dirt. There were a few more odds and ends in there, but the bones and dirt were what concerned us the most.

Sam pointed to the jar. “I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone.”

“That's serious spellwork.” Dean said solemnly. “I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff.”

“Used to summon a demon.”

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing.”

I didn’t have to look up from the box to know the brothers were looking at me.

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that Doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.”

Yeah, she really wasn’t. Nothing was going to stop those hellhounds. Not a single thing in this world.

 

I sat cross legged on Baby’s hood as Dean and Sam leaned against her on either side.

“So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music.”

At Dean’s answer, Sam and I just looked at each other confused.

“Oh come on.” Dean groaned. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? There's-there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me And The Devil Blues? Hellhound On My Trail?”

Sam and I both shook our heads.

Dean scoffed. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs.”

“Hellhounds.” I whispered. I could still remember it clearly. Even when my body was dead, they’d sunk their teeth into my flesh, biting, pulling, grinding into my bones as they dragged me through the hospital hallways and lower and lower and lower…

“Breathe, sweetheart.” I snapped back to reality where Dean was gripping my arms. I looked down at my form. Not a drop of blood. Nothing. No dogs. No hellhounds. I opened my mouth and gasped. I choked on my own air, and Dean started patting my back. “Easy, easy there.”

I clenched the hand he still had on my arm and tried to breathe. I was safe. I was safe here, with both Winchester brothers on either side. Nothing could touch me unless I brought it down on myself. And Hell was over. I was out.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. “S-sorry,” I managed finally.

“No problem.” Sam passed me an open bottle of water. I accepted it and took a few sips. It settled the nausea that had started to creep back up, but I still kept a hand on Dean’s, and he made no move to remove it.

“It’s happening all over again.” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah.”

“We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.”

“Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal.” He rubbed my arm comfortingly. “Those people willingly gave up their lives for something as dumb as ten years of fame. Let them suffer.” I knew what he meant. As did Sam. Dean was angry. I could tell in the way his hold had tightened over my biceps and the way his breathing had grown a little more ragged. “Sharon did nothing wrong, but she still paid the price. Why should we save them when we couldn’t even save her ? What makes them so special?”

“So what, we should just leave them to die? Go to Hell?” Sam snapped.

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” Dean challenged.

“Dean.” That got his attention. I shrugged off his hand and he looked at me in dismay. “Because I wouldn’t wish that fate on anybody. Not even my worst enemy.”

 

“There was supposed to be a picture of the last person who made the last deal in that box.” Sam said as he sifted through stacks of paperwork.

“There’s variants of the summoning ritual, but a picture has to be present in most of these.” I explained.

“Are you saying whoever put that there failed at the summoning then?” Dean asked.

“I doubt they’re gonna get it wrong.” Sam muttered. “They got everything from graveyard dirt to bones, so why are they missing the picture?”

I reached for my gun as a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Dean and Sam were already on guard. Sam shifted closer to me, and Dean held his gun behind the door as he slowly opened, ready to shoot at any threat.

“Dad.” Dean breathed, and John came into view.

“Hello boys.” the man grinned.

Dean tackled the man into a hug and Sam relaxed. “Where were you? We were worried.”

“Trying to find the demon.” John ran a hand through his black hair. “But whatever deal Sharon made… it’s working. Wherever I track that son of a bitch, it runs.” He looked down gently at my form sprawled on the bed. “This case hard on you?”

“You knew about this?” Sam questioned.

“I knew people were making deals, but… I never had any reason to come for them until now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to kill that thing.” John’s voice was venomous. “And to do that, I’m gonna have to find it. So I’ve been following demon signs.” He sighed. “And I was led here.”

“Wait, Dad, since you’re here– maybe you could help us with this.” Dean grabbed the box he’d dug up earlier. “We need to track down the person who–”

“Made the deal?” John smirked. “Already done.” He passed him what looked like an ID of a man. Oh, he’d taken the picture. “George Darrow.” He marched into the room like he owned it and flopped onto the armchair. “You boys got beer?”

“‘Course we do.” Dean nodded to the crate sitting on the edge of the table.

“Well? Did you find out anything? Any way to save these people?” Sam pressed.

John just gave him a look. “And why do you wanna save them, son?”

“Because– they’re just people. They probably didn’t even know what they were doing!”

John’s voice dropped a notch. “You don’t just summon a demon and not know what you’re doing. They knew what was coming for them. And they should hope that an eternity in Hell is worth whatever they wished for in life.”

“John.” My voice was a lot more throaty than I’d thought it would be. “I’ve been to Hell.”

He grew a little gentler. “I know. I wasn’t talking about you. You had a damn good reason. These people don’t. They wished for money, fame, power.”

“I wouldn’t wish Hell even on my worst enemy.” I hated how the tears pricked my eyes. “Really, it was-it was the worst thing I’ve–” I took a deep breath that seemed to steady my breath somewhat. I put on my best blank expression. The memories and screams were rushing back in against my will. I thought I’d gotten better. But clearly not.

All of us ended up staying in the same motel room to finish finding the next victim. Dean sat at my side, a hand steady on my back as I lay in bed. I could vaguely hear John sighing and Sam angrily snapping at him. But none of that registered. It was all just a haze. The only thing I heard clearly was Alastair in my ear demanding ‘say yes’.

 

“Evan Hudson?” I stood stronger than I felt as the door opened. A haggard man who looked like he hadn’t slept in days stood on the other side, frantically looking outside.

“Yes?” His eyes were blown wide.

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?” Dean stepped out from behind me accusingly. “Would have been about ten years ago.”

Terrified, the poor man slammed the door shut.

“Come on, we're not demons!” He groaned.

“Any other bright ideas?” Sam mocked.

“Let’s do it the easy way.” John grunted. Sam, Dean, and I stepped to the side as the older man wound back and kicked the door open in one go. Dean whistled. Sam rolled his eyes. I followed.

Only one door in the whole house was still closed. Dean reeled back to shoulder this one open, but Sam just grabbed his shoulder and twisted the doorknob. It opened with a soft click. “See?” he smirked.

“Pussy.” Dean snarked. “Can’t even shove a door open.” he sauntered into the office.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “If you had, then you would be face flat on the floor.”

“Sam. Dean.” John chided. And the two boys fell back in line.

“Evan?” I said gently to the man still hiding.

The thin wiry man jumped out from behind the giant office desk. “Please don’t hurt me!”

“We're not gonna hurt you, all right?” The fearful look in his eyes matched the fearful way my heart was beating. “We're here to help.”

“We know all about the genius deal you made.” Dean said pointedly.

“H-how do you know about that…!” Evan stammered.

“What? How?”

“Doesn’t matter.” John scowled.

Sam sighed. “Look, all that matters is, we're trying to stop it.”

“How do I know you're not lying?”

Before John or Dean could say something to frighten the man any more, I held my hands up. “If we wanted to hurt you, we would have, already.” I lifted my jacket to reveal the shiny metal gun tucked into my belt. He paled. “Look, I’m gonna put this away.” Nothing we had would stop the hellhounds anyway. I gently took it out and dropped it to the floor. “Look, you can even hold onto it.” I kicked it across the room, much to John’s and Dean’s chagrin. One glare though, and the father and son duo closed their mouths.

Evan swallowed and started pacing. “Can you guys stop it?”

“Don't know. We'll try.” Sam said gently. He did the same with his gun. Evan kicked them back even further.

“I don't want to die.” His voice trembled.

“No one does.” I said quietly. “Not like this.”

His eyes watered. “You know something about what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” I bit my tongue to keep it from frightening the man further. My experience would only make him more frightened and closed off. He might even think I’m the demon.

“What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh?” Dean started accusing. “Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“Dean!” Sam and I hissed.

“My wife.” Evan said with resolve.

John let out a sigh of understanding. “I’ll go secure the perimeter.” He headed out the door, like a man going to war. Well, it didn’t matter. The hellhounds would come through anyway.

“I did it for my wife.” Evan said a little more firmly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.” .

“Dean!” Sam hissed.

I could see Dean himself doubting his own assumptions.

“No. He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm.” Evan held his head between his hands. “That… woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but… I don't know how to— I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam asked.

“Julie was dying.”

Dean ran a hand down his face and he started pacing. “You did it to save her?”

“She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days.” I felt myself choking up at Evan’s story. “So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.” Yeah, I knew a thing or two about that.

I glanced at Dean who gripped the edge of a bookshelf for support. “Did you ever think about her in all this?”

“I did this for her.”

Dean stalked towards the man. And his next words sent chills and spindles of guilt down my spine. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?” Was that… was that how he felt…?

Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder and wrenched him back from Evan. “Dean,” Sam caught my eye. “Watch it.” He warned.

Dean pushed Sam’s arm away and stomped out. “I’m gonna go see Dad.”

 

“He doesn’t mean it.” Sam said gently as we stood outside in the hallway.

“Sure sounded like he did.” I pushed away the strands of hair that had come loose. They were soaked with sweat. “But he’s not wrong.”

Sam pressed his lips together. “Sharon– He loves you.”

“And vice versa.” I shrugged off my jacket and bundled it up in my arms. “I have an idea.”

“So you’re not gonna talk to him about this?”

I blinked at him. “Does it look like we have time for that?” I glanced at Evan’s door. “He’s gonna die soon. And I don’t want that for him. I don’t want that for Julie.”

Sam sighed. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“We summon the demon. Exorcise that bitch.”

“Dad and Dean aren’t gonna be happy about this.” Sam looked around for any sign of them.

“You could say that again.” I jumped when I heard Dean’s voice. He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped in front of us. “But what other choice do we have?” He placed his hands on his hips and nodded at the door. “Dad’s already prepping for the summoning ritual.” He held up a tiny bag. Goofer dust, my brain supplied. “Told us to use this while we held back the hellhounds.”

“Wait, so Dad’s gonna do this alone?” Sam started fussing. “Dean, we can’t leave him alone. You saw what happened last time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna go with him.”

“What? No!” Sam protested at that too.

“Then I’m going with him.” I volunteered.

“Hold on, hold on.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sharon, you’re not going because I’ve seen you all jittery and on edge this whole time. I don’t think you should be facing any demons any time soon. Especially a crossroads deal making one. And, Dean, you–” Sam looked sad at the sight. “You just can’t. Alright? Especially you and Dad both.”

“Why not?” Dean scoffed. “You think I can’t handle myself?”

Sam grabbed Dean’s collar and pushed him up against a wall. “Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.”

I jumped between them and started pulling them apart. “Guys, we can’t fight right now.”

“ Dean ,” Sam hissed pleadingly. “I know you think it’s your fault Sharon died and went to Hell. And I think you and Dad are gonna do something stupid. Because both of you blame yourselves for this.”

“Guys! I hear them! I think they’re here!” Evan’s panicked cry rang out.

I grabbed the goofer dust and sprinted into the office. Dean and Sam were still exchanging hushed whispers. I slammed the doors shut. “Sam! Dean!” I yelled to them. “Go with John!” I began lining the window sill with the dust.

“What about you?!” Dean and Sam asked in unison. They really were brothers.

“I’ll be fine.” I opened the door a crack to give them as much of a smile I could muster. “The goofer dust is supposed to work right? It should hold off the hellhounds long enough for y’all to exorcise her and get whatever info your Dad wants.” Evan whimpered in the office. “Go on guys. I’ll be fine. The hellhounds won’t go after me. It’s Evan they want. I’m just gonna help hold them back.”

Sam kept his eyes on me worriedly even as he grabbed Dean’s arm to pull him away. “Be careful.”

“I will!” I closed the door again and lined it with the dust again. “Evan.” I pulled the man into a corner and started surrounding him with the goofer dust in a circle.

“What-what is this?”

“Goofer dust.” I explained. “Stay inside of it. And it should keep the hellhounds away for long enough.”

His whole body shook as he exclaimed. “What the fuck?!”

“Dude. You save your wife by making a deal with a literal demon and finding out goofer dust keeps those mystical hellhounds away is where you draw the line?” I let my arms fall in defeat. “Look, we’re the only thing you got against this. It’s either you stay in the goofer dust circle with the slightest chance of survival, or stay outside of it and have a guaranteed zero chance of survival. Your call.”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish as he tried to decide. Finally he did and curled up in the circle. Okay. I faced the door and clenched my gun loaded with silver in one hand and the goofer dust bag in the other. We were gonna be fine. Surely.

 

Third Person P.O.V.

The three Winchesters stood at the center of the crossroads, looking at the spot where they’d just buried the box.

“A deal, huh.” Dean commented. “You were trying to make one to save me.”

Dean looked up at his Dad who just looked down with his jaw set. But Dean could see the way his eyes glistened. “I was.” was his quiet reply.

“But Sharon found out.” Sam said gently.

“No. She knew.” John raised his head and squared his shoulders. “I wanna know where that son of a bitch is. He screwed up our family. Trashed it beyond repair.”

“But Dad,” Sam reached for his father’s fingers. “Dad, we’re all here now. Can we just let go of it?”

“After all we’ve been through you wanna just let it go?” Dean’s voice rose.

John held a hand up. “Dean. Sam. This is my fight. I’m the one who wants revenge. No need to get you boys caught up in it. Azazel won’t touch either of you. The deal, as far as I’m aware, is still active.”

“You two are not the only ones who want him dead.” Sam finally confessed. “I do too. He’s gonna keep hurting people until we solve what’s going on. All those kids– Max and Andy– I don’t want anyone else going through this.”

John looked at both his boys and sighed. “You two are as stubborn as your mother.” He looked back at the crossroads, where a woman had manifested in the blink of an eye. “Well, let’s get this show over with.”

 

“They’re here.” Evan whimpered as he stood up.

Sharon clenched her teeth and looked at the doors. “The dust is holding up well.”

Evan’s eyes darted to her, then the dust, and then back at the doors. Their barks and growls and howls rang in his ears and rattled his bones. “I can feel them.”

Sharon whipped towards him. “Like pulling you?”

“No-no, like– like they’re-they’re telling me they’re here. That my time is up.”

Yeah, she knew a thing or two about that. “What’s important right now is that you stay calm. There’s no point in panicking.”

“I-i know.” Evan swallowed thickly. “I’ve come to terms with my death a long time ago. My life for hers. It’s only fair, but…” his voice wavered. “Still, you know, I don’t wanna die.”

Sharon looked at him with a haunted look in her eyes. “Me too.”

 

“Why hello!” the woman in front of them grinned. She was pretty. A petite brunette in a revealing skin tight black dress with her face carefully done to seem even more alluring. She looked every bit the devil, especially with the redness of her eyes. “Here to make a deal?” She sauntered over to them.

“We want Evan Hudson released from his contract.” Sam responded.

“I want to know where Azazel is.” John added.

“And you? Dean Winchester?” the demon smiled.

“How do you know my name?”

She looked at each of them. “John Winchester. Samuel Winchester. And Dean Winchester. I get the newsletter.”

She sighed dramatically. “Sadly, none of your demands are possible.” She flicked her wrist lazily. “But…” She tilted her head. “If that girl wants to make one, I’m open.”

“Not a chance.” the three men quipped.

The demon gave a fake gasp. “Oh my!” Before throwing her head back with a cackle. “You guys really think that’s what you want?”

She placed a perfectly pointed nail on John’s chest. He kept his expression blank as he glared down at her. “I know what you want. I can bring your wife back…” His breath hitched. Dean’s heart clenched. His mom could be back, and hold him through sleepless nights. Sam felt something rise in his chest. He could finally know what it felt to have a mother. “And look, I’ll even throw in a treat. You get ten years with her…” he stiffened when her nail dragged lower and lower to his hip. “And you all can be one happy family. Hm? Live till your sixties…” She licked her lips as she looked at Dean and Sam. “And your boys will finally have a mother.”

Dean finally snapped out of it. He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her away from his Dad. “Ouch!” the demon snarled. Sam blinked in shock, but quickly recovered. Right. His Dad and Dean would never.

“Can you really do that?” John said quietly.

Sam balked at the question. Really? His Dad was seriously thinking about it? He looked at Dean for help. Dean caught his eye and gave the slightest shake of his head. A plan. His Dad and brother must have a plan.

“Oh honey, I can!” The demon looked excited. “We can hash out the details, hm?”

John looked at his boys and jerked his head. “You two run along now.”

“What– Dad–”

“Sam. Go with Dean.” He looked at the demon’s lips appreciatively. “It’s time for the adults to talk.”

“I thought we were gonna save Evan!” Dean cried.

“Dean!” John barked, and Dean apprehensively turned around to leave.

“Come on Sammy.” his eldest tugged his youngest out of the crossroads, and out of sight.

“Well…” John stepped forward and placed a hand on the demon’s waist. “I think we can take this somewhere more private… hm?”

The demon’s eyes skated over his body appreciatively. “You offerin’?”

“Damn right I am. But I can’t talk about this in front of my boys, now can I?” John lowered his voice a few octaves. “And a man can hardly do what he wants when his wife is around…”

“I like the way you think, Winchester…” she smirked and grabbed his collar. “So where we going?”

“Well, the car, first…” John led the demon to his giant truck.

He placed a hand on her hip as he pushed her up into the backseat. Her eyes never left him. But they did widen when she finally realised. “You–!” she tried to jump out, but she couldn’t move past the door.

John grinned proudly to himself. “Gotcha.”

 

“Dad– He– he really–” Sam felt like he was about to pass out. His Dad was flirting with a demon . He’d seen him flirt before. To get information, and sometimes just to get into a woman’s pants. But- but his Dad had never– He almost gagged.

Dean looked sick himself. But he seemed to trust the man. “Look, Sam. The plan. It’s working.”

“Then why do you look like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Because! I just saw Dad, who’s in his fifties by the way, try to seduce some hot demon chick that looks less than half his age!”

“Hot demon chick?! Where’s your loyalty?!”

“You think I haven’t seen you eying those waitresses when Jess isn’t looking?!”

Sam clammed up.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay, look. Everything is going according to plan. Dad’s gonna exorcise that bitch–”

“He’s trying to make a deal to bring Mom back.”

“Well, guess what. He won’t. He knows what happened before.” Dean exhaled softly. “Sharon might pull that stunt again if she finds out. And it’s not like we can hide Mom from her. So there’s no way she isn’t gonna find out what Dad did.”

Sam still wasn’t convinced. “He wants to know where Yellow Eyes is.”

Dean parted his lips but he couldn’t deny this part. “But he’ll also try to save Evan.”

“And how do you know that?” Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID and pushed his brother back in the direction they’d come from. “Go on. Give Dad backup. You gotta make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, Sam.”

“He’s not gonna listen to me.”

“He listens to you the most.” Dean grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not my science fair projects he bought supplies for. It’s not my books he saved money for or carried to and from libraries with– Sam. He listens to you.”

And if Sam never believed that before, then now, looking at Dean’s pleading teary eyes, he did. And Dean wasn’t wrong. They always bought his favorite cereal. His favorite stations on the radio in the shoddy motels. He swallowed. He should really give his Dad a little more credit. “Okay. Fine.” He squared his shoulders. “Where are you gonna go?”

Dean spun his keys on his finger. “I’m gonna go back and make sure Evan and Sharon are okay.”

Sam nodded. “Good luck.”

“You too, man.”

 

“I’m gonna die!” Evan sobbed. “I’m gonna die!” He let out an ear piercing scream as the doors and windows rattled incessantly.

Sharon backed up into the circle and kept her gun aimed at the door. As soon as it opened, she was gonna shoot. And hold off those suckers.

Or she would have if the growling didn’t suddenly stop. Evan and Sharon both jumped when something started scratching at the walls.

“Oh fuck no.” Sharon kept her hand on Evan’s as the walls broke open. “Look, I’m not sure how long the goofer dust will hold. So we gotta be ready to run. Okay?”

Evan gave a weak nod and readied himself.

Just in time too, because the walls shattered and covered the two of them with dust and debris. His eyes widened. The hellhounds were large black dogs. There was no other way to describe them. They snarled and growled and clawed at him. But their claws never made it into the circle. He swallowed. He might actually live. If he just stayed in the circle. And if the circle held. He clenched Sharon’s flannel in his fist. She was the last hope he had, and she was holding up pretty damn well.

 

“Let. Me. Out.” the demon ground out.

John raised an eyebrow and made a show of a relaxed man. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Oh. I’ll make a deal. Once you let me OUT! ”

“The only deal you’ll be making is releasing Evan.” said Sam’s chilly voice.

“And telling me where the fuck Azazel is.” John added.

“Oh, honey.” the demon’s voice dripped with loathing. “No.”

“Fine then.” John opened up his journal and started reciting. “Regna terrae…” He recited, and the demon’s body convulsed.

“Stop! Stop!” she screamed. “I’ll tell you– I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

John closed his journal but kept his thumb between the pages where the chant was written. The demon doubled over in relief as she struggled to catch her breath. “Then let go of Evan. And give me Azazel’s location.”

“I’ll do the first one.” the demon panted. “But I don’t know where Azazel is.”

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo,” He ignored the demon’s screams. “psallite Domino', qui fertis super caelum…”

 

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Evan muttered in a panic when the goofer dust started to blow away.

“Why the fuck is our plot armor so shit.” Sharon spat as she twisted to grab Evan’s arm. “We’re gonna run. Okay?”

Evan had no choice but to nod along. He didn’t even get time to catch his breath before he was pulled along by the shorter woman and down the hallway. He could hear the howls of the hellhounds behind them as they scratched and tore at the walls and floor.

“I’m gonna die!” he gasped.

“No, you’re not!” Sharon cut in. She shoved Evan a little further before aiming where she best thought the hellhounds were.

Evan heard a high pitched yelp, and prayed that it was the hellhound and not her.

“Keep running!” Her voice yelled. Tired, but fine. Maybe they could actually make it.

 

“I’ll call them off!” the demon shrieked in his car. “I swear I’ve called them off!”

Sam immediately started calling Sharon’s number. John nodded when Sam looked to him for permission to actually call. His son kept an eye on the demon even as he stepped away to talk on the phone. John tapped his foot impatiently. “Tell me where Azazel is.”

“I don’t know.” The demon looked like she was going to pass out. “I swear I don’t know. Azazel is keeping low. No one but his minions know where he is.”

“Then call one of them.”

“I can’t !”

“Then I’m not letting you out.”

“Then I’ll just set the hellhounds back on that guy. And Sharon . Her screams were lovely you know? After a while she just stopped. But let me tell you, they were the most beautiful screams I’ve ever heard in the depths of hell– AAH!” The demon screamed as John started reciting the exorcism again. “Stop it!”

“Tell me where Azazel is.”

“I. Don’t. Know!” Her body convulsed.

No way. John continued the exorcism. But Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Dad,” he said gently. “She’s telling the truth.” he swallowed. “And she really can set the hellhounds on them again. So just- Dad just– let her go. We can find out some other time. Sharon’s life isn’t worth it.”

John stopped reciting. Sam had a point. He ran a hand down his face and looked at the devil’s trap he’d carved into the ground with a knife. He fixed the demon with a blank stare and dragged his boot over the gravel. The demon slumped in relief. “I knew you were a man of your word.”

“Those hellhounds better be off.” John warned.

The demon waved her hand. “They are. Don’t worry. Us demons, nasty as we are, actually hold up our bargains.” She bared her teeth. “Goodbye, Winchesters. I hope that random man was worth not reviving your wife.” And the demon escaped its human vessel in a stream of black smoke.

John held his head and closed his eyes. Mary. He could have brought back Mary. He could have found out where Azazel was. But his sons had made him save another man. He sighed. His boys really kept him human. He gave a sad smile to Sam. “Let's get this woman home, shall we?”

“Yeah.” Sam gave him the barest hints of a smile. “Thanks,”

“For?”

“Saving Evans.”

He grunted.

“You could have just left him for dead. Could have just… killed her when you found out she didn’t know where that demon was… But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

“Come on Dad.” There was a hint of humor in Sam’s tone. “You’re supposed to say ‘of course’.”

“Do I look like that type, son?” John rolled his eyes and hauled the unconscious human’s body into the back. He settled himself in the driver’s seat and the truck started with a deep rumble. “Come on.” he patted the passenger seat. “How many times have you gone shotgun with me?”

Sam laughed. “Once. When you drove me for my driving test.”

John snorted. “You were a better driver than that fat examiner.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” A silence fell between them, but for the first time in years it didn’t feel stifling, even when there was a terrified woman passed out in the backseat. And then John cleared his throat. “So when were you gonna tell me about that ring?”

Sam opened and closed his mouth. Uhh. “How’d you— Did Sharon tell you?”

“No. No.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I just… noticed the, uh, the string.”

“The stri-” Sam looked down and realised the threads were showing around his neck. He pulled out the gold band and hesitantly looked back up at his Dad. “Dad— So Jess and I… uh…” It had been easier to tell Sharon. “We think we’re ready for the next step. You know? She’s been nothing but supportive, and I thought it would be wrong to kind of just… string her along like that. So yeah. We’re, um, doing something more permanent.”

John rolled his eyes at the lengthy explanation. “In short you’re getting married.”

“Uh.” Sam stammered. “Y-yeah. I think I’m getting married.”

“You have a ring. You’re getting married.”

“Okay yeah. I’m getting married.” He crossed his arms and sank lower in his seat.

John lifted a hand off the wheel and placed it on his son’s shoulder. The boy stiffened for a moment but he didn’t pull away. That counted as progress, he supposed. “You have my blessings.”

Sam jumped up. “I do?”

John snorted. “Why would you not?”

“Cause— I dunno. I just thought you wouldn’t—”

“Look. Sam.” He finally faced his son fully. And the boy, even though he was taller and larger than him now, looked small sitting next to him. “I know I haven’t… been the best father. Certainly not winning father of the year. But… I want you to know.” His voice grew quieter as the words got more and more awkward. “I love you. I love both you and Dean. And I would die before I let anything happen to either of you. Sharon included.” He shook his head. “You kids are all I have left. And I’ll be damned if I kept you guys from finding happiness.”

“So you’re not gonna be a dick about this?”

“As long as I’m invited.”

Sam nearly rolled his eyes when the station John tuned into was the same as the one Dean listened to. Did he really have to listen to old people's classic rock every time no matter who drove? But as he sagged in his Dad’s passenger seat with the confirmation that Dean, Sharon, and Evan were okay… And that his Dad wasn’t gonna come in between him and Jess… He looked at him. Truly looked at him. He watched as his Dad drove the truck like it was an extension of himself. Every movement was easy, like his brother’s. The worn jeans, the muddy scuffed up fraying boots, the whiskey smelling leather jacket, the loose flannel underneath, and the plain undershirt that definitely hadn’t been washed in ten days… It was all so similar to Dean’s but so distinctly Dad. He smiled to himself. Maybe yeah. He didn’t mind so much after all.

 

First Person P.O.V.

“Dean!” I nearly cried with relief when he rounded the corner. I threw myself against him and he gathered me up at once.

“Hey, you okay?” His hands ran all over my figure before deciding that I was just exhausted from the running and the adrenaline.

“Yeah.” I answered. I jerked my head towards Evan. “The guy’s fine too.” I pulled away. “Did you get Sam’s call?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

I turned to look at Evan who had collapsed on the sidewalk. “Dude, you gonna be okay? Anyone you want us to call for you?”

He took a few deep breaths before shaking his head. “Julie.”

I nodded. “Yeah, o’course.” I passed him my phone and his fingers typed out her number from muscle memory. His voice shattered when he started talking to her, and I gave him his space.

“How’re you holdin’ up?” Dean asked softly.

I looked up at his tense face in the moonlight. “Honestly? I don’t know.” My blood was still pumping and my hands and legs were a little shaky from the whole thing. “I didn’t actually see them. Or hear them per se.” I shuddered. “But it all felt real. You know? Like they were coming for me .”

Dean looked like he was going to cry for me. And if he did, then I would too. “Don’t cry for me Dean. I'm fine.”

“I should have been there.” I knew what he was referring to. “Never should have let you out of my sight. I should have stayed with you on the phone– I should have been there with you–”

“No, Dean.” I felt my throat thickening. “You couldn’t have known.” I brushed my hand over his rough cheeks. “There’s no way any of us could have known.”

“I should have protected you.” He whispered. His head dropped down to mine. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have gone out alone.”

“What for, Dean?” I forced a smile, and attempted a joke. “You know if you locked me up then that would be a toxic relationship, right?”

His green eyes filled with something dangerous. “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe.”

“I will divorce you if you do that.”

“Don’t joke about this, baby. I’m serious. I should have been more careful.”

I kissed his lips to shut him up. “Same goes for me. I shouldn’t have been that relaxed. I should have known. I was a woman, alone, at some shady store. I shouldn’t have insisted on going alone.”

“You never did anything wrong–”

“And neither did you.”

“But I–”

“Dean,” I kissed his lips again, and he returned it fervently. “We could go on forever blaming ourselves for this.”

He brushed a thumb over my cheek. His hand was warm. He cracked a smile. “You’re not wrong.”

“Right?”

He kissed me again, slower this time. He lapped at my lips and I let him make the kiss deeper. My hands found their favorite spot on his shoulders and he groaned. When we finally ran out of breath he pulled back. Just a hair. And when I looked back at him, his cheeks were soaked. “I would have done the same for you.”

I let the tears finally fall. “And I would have done it again.”

Notes:

Guys I swear I'll write smut again. I have this hella sexy scene in my head which is just pure vanilla and pure love. but idk where to put it. might throw it in the one shots if i don't get to write it down for one of the main chaps soon. I already have the next chap in the works. I'm trying to pace my uploads so I don't go a month without posting and then uploading like three chaps in a week. We'll see how this ambitious goal of mine goes. P.S. It most likely won't last long and we'll be back to sporadic releases.

ughhh i haven't slept in a week. i have an exam next week, didn't study for it obviously. kpop world is going into a frenzy. but... SIXTONES FINALLY ON SPOTIFY AND APPLE MUSIC WOOHOO. Unfortunately they did remove all their pirated B sides from yt... Also I was gonna say that I don't listen to rock and therefore neither does Sharon cause it's convenient for me, but now that I'm listening to SixTones' discography I realised that they do pop rock (idk is that the term? ykwim). I forgot what else I was gonna say. oh and mermaid rafayel on LADS highly recommend someone write a fanfic on that. or do they already exist. i'll check. byeee.

Chapter 36: Croatoan

Summary:

"“They’re not human.” I said, once again, as I shot another one in the head.
“Yeah.” Dean’s grip was tight on Baby’s wheel. He dodged another corpse on the road, and I grimaced at the swerve.
This felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. I felt sick.
“We’re just doing our job.” Dean muttered.
“Yeah. They're not human.”
“Just a job.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Um. Suicidal Ideation?
2. Attempt at PTSD
3. Terrible writing

Sorry I went back on my one chapter a week thing. My whole family's off at a wedding and I have to live on my own for two whole weeks but I've never done that before. and my essentially 9 to 5 starts tomorrow and idk how to cook and i've never cleaned a whole house by myself so yeah I'm cooked.

Third Person P.O.V.

“No, no, no, no, no! I swear it isn’t in me!” a blond man tied to a chair screamed.

Dean reloaded his gun with a grim look on his face.

“Oh God. We're all gonna die.” a young woman whimpered.

“Maybe he’s telling the truth.” An older and tougher looking black man said as he gripped his own shotgun.

“He's not him,” Dean said slowly. “Not anymore.”

“No, stop it! Stop it! Ask her, ask the Doctor! It's not in me!” the blond man kept begging.

“I just… I can’t tell.” a middle aged woman in a white coat shook her head.

“No, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I–”

“Nothing against you.” Sharon said softly. “But it’s best for all of us. We’ll make it quick.”

“Sorry man.” Dean finally whispered. “I got no choice.” And shot twice.

Sharon looked at the others before stepping forward. Her gun remained cocked in her hand even as she knelt to check the man’s pulse. “Dead.”

 

First Person P.O.V.

“Oh my goodness, for the last time, Bobby, I’m fine.”

The old man yammered some more, his voice almost being drowned out by the little dog yipping in the background.

I rolled my eyes as he kept fussing. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be careful. And yes ! I’ll call if I ever need anything… No, I'm not giving you attitude… I’m not talking back!… Oh for real Bobby, we’re all fine!” The man sighed on the other end but finally I heard him give into Rumsfeld’s demands and give him some kibbles. “Tell Rumsfeld I said hi.”

“Oh that boy’s long gone. The brat eats more and more everyday… and shits twice as much.”

I felt myself smiling at the fondness in his voice for the dog. “Okay, well. I’ll leave you to him then.”

Bobby scoffed and muttered something to the dog. “Come back anytime.” He said a little louder.

“Thanks Bobby. I’ll drop by when I can.” I hung up and leaned back against the hood of the Impala. I groaned when the phone rang again. I checked the caller ID, John. “ugh… John… I just got off the phone with Bobby. Ask him how we’re doing. I’m not repeating myself.”

“Good to know you’re alive.” the man said. “How’s Dean?”

I turned my head to the side where Dean was standing at the gas station checkout with two six packs of beer and a bag full of junk food. “Trying to kill his liver.”

John snorted. “And Sammy?”

“Sleeping at the motel. He made salad. It sucked. He put peanuts in it!”

The man hummed. “Kay, I gotta go. You kids take care.”

“You don’t wanna talk to Dean?” I straightened up when Dean started walking back to the car.

“Dad?” He dropped the plastic bags on the ground and grabbed my phone from me. “Yeah, yeah… we’re all good… yeah, doors and windows all salted… no he’s got a gun with him, under his pillow. There’s a knife on the nightstand… Dad– we’re all in one room. No one’s completely alone. I’m not alone either.” He caught my eye under the dim streetlamps and he smiled. “Yeah, she’s fine.” He turned his head to the sky. He looked like he was at peace “Uh, you too, Dad…” And then awkwardly he added, “Take care.” He hung up and returned the phone to me. “I’m not used to him talking like that.”

“He’s trying to be better.” I said softly.

He grit his teeth. “I know, but… it’s-it’s weird. Him not giving me orders. Being actually concerned for me and not just Sammy.”

I hopped off of Baby and patted his arm. “He’s always been concerned, Dean. Man just sucks at showing it.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a jerky nod. “Still makes me wonder if he’s gonna do something stupid.”

I let out a breath. I would be lying if I said that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. “He loves you, Dean.” I said instead.

“Yeah,” he moved to get inside the car. “Come on. Let’s get back.”

 

When we walked in through the door of our motel, Sammy was sitting up gasping for breath.

“Sam?” I dropped the plastic bag and rushed to his side. Dean was on his other side in record speed and the two of us brushed his hair back and checked him for harm. He looked physically fine.

He swallowed air in stunted gulps until he finally calmed down.

“Bad dream?” I asked. His whole body shuddered and he clenched his head in a hand. “Another vision?” I questioned, a little quieter.

He nodded. “Felt like one.”

Dean reached for some water and pressed it against his brother’s lips. “Drink up.”

Sam swallowed the water like he’d swallowed the air before making a noise in his throat, signaling Dean to pull away. “Thanks.” He wiped the back of his mouth with the back of his hand.

I rubbed his back and his breathing slowly slowed down to a more controlled level. “Wanna talk about it?”

He nodded rapidly. “Yeah. But we gotta go.” He shoved the covers down and started fumbling for his shoes. I nudged them closer to his feet and he started tying his laces with shaking hands.

“Go where?” Dean grabbed his keys again.

“Rivergrove, Oregon.”

 

“Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West.” chimed the GPS.

“There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove.” Sam said from the backseat. He’d collapsed in the back, his legs awkwardly bunched up against the door and his arms thrown over the backseat in an attempt to ride out the waves of dizziness and headaches that came with his visions.

“How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?” Dean asked.

“There was a picture. Crater Lake.”

“Huh.” I hummed. “I’m gonna pretend like I knew Oregon had that. Or that Crater Lake even existed.”

“How did you ever pass college?” Dean mumbled. “Okay, so. What else?”

“I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair.” Sam said from the back.

“And I ventilated him?”

“Yeah. You thought there was something inside him.”

“Did I actually kill the guy though?”

“Sharon confirmed he was dead.”

“Huh.” Dean thought for a moment. “Was he possessed?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, so, Sam.” I shifted a little so I could catch his exhausted eyes. “All your dreams so far have had to do with Yellow Eyes. So I’m assuming this guy had something to do with him. And Dean wouldn’t just kill a man.”

“I sure hope so.” Sam muttered.

“What?” Dean twisted till he was facing the back.

Sam and I blanched. “Dean, eyes on the road.” we said.

“I wouldn’t kill an innocent man!”

Sam raised an eyebrow cheekily. “Didn’t say you would.”

“Fine!”

“Fine! Can you look at the road please?!”

I slammed the dashboard to get Dean’s attention. “Dean! Truck!” The incoming semi blared its horn as Dean swerved to dodge it just in time.

Immediately, he twisted to argue with his brother again.

“Look,” Sam sat up straight and leaned over the front seat. “we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Seriously, were my brother and I this bad during road trips?

 

We pulled into Rivergrove right outside of which Crater Lake was advertised in huge letters. Huh. So it really was some popular place.

“He’s one of them.” Sam nodded at an older black man sitting at his porch cleaning out a shotgun.

“We talk to him first then.” Dean parked the Impala and we got out in unison. “Morning.” Dean called out confidently.

“Good morning.” The man stood up. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, Billie Eilish. U.S. Marshals.”

“What’s this about?” The man looked at us skeptically.

“We’re looking for a man.”

“A young man. Early twenties.” Sam added. “He'd have a-a thin scar right below his hairline.”

“What’d he do?” The man grew concerned.

“Nothing really.” I jumped in. “but we think he knows someone who we actually are looking for.”

“He’s not in any trouble, sir. At least not yet.” Dean flashed his winning smile. “I think maybe you know who he is… Master Sergeant.” He grinned. “My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal.”

The man nodded in appreciation. “What company?”

“Echo 2-1.”

Dean could brag about his Dad all day. “Sorry, but do you happen to know someone like that?” I asked.

The man hesitated but gave in. “Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does.” Dean nodded. “You happen to know where he lives?”

“With his family, up Aspen Way.” the man jerked his head towards a certain road. Dean was probably cataloguing it right now.

“Thanks.”

As we turned around to leave, my blind self almost ran herself into a pole. I stopped just an inch short of it and Dean laughed.

“Flip you.” I muttered. But that was when I noticed the word carved onto the pole.

Croatoan.

Oh fuck no.

“Something wrong?” Dean grew concerned as he came to stand next to me. “Croatoan.”

“Huh.” Sam walked to us from where he was.

“That mean something to you guys?” Dean tilted his head, curious.

“Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell?” Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?”

“Hey, I got better survival skills than little Miss Sue here.” Dean placed a hand on my back. “She can get herself lost in her room if she really wanted.” Sam rolled his eyes. Dean continued. “Anyway,” he raised his voice a little. “shots heard 'round the world, How bills becomes a laws…”

“That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock.”

“Whatever.”

“Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?”

I swallowed dryly. I knew this conversation. It was one of the freakiest, most confusing episodes in all of Supernatural. I’d spent so much time on Reddit trying to understand what had happened. But Sam and Dean were too absorbed in their discussion to notice my plight.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan.”

“Yeah. And I mean, there were theories — Native American raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight.”

“You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean…”

“Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?”

“Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so…”

Fuck. I fished for my phone in my pockets. Dean’s hand pressed tighter against my back. I scrambled to dial Bobby’s number, but the call didn’t connect.

“I’ll try Dad.” Dean muttered.

“I’ve got no signal.” Sam commented.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sharon, sweetheart.” Dean tugged me closer when I shuddered. “Look, we’ll try something else.”

“There’s a payphone.” Sam jogged over to it, while Dean tried to soothe my shaking figure. Damn, I hadn’t even realised.

“Is this bad?” Dean’s hand was now rubbing soothing circles on my back. “Wait, that’s a terrible question. Of course this is bad.”

I tried to nod or say yes, but my body was frozen stiff. “Line's dead.” Sam said as he walked back.

Dean pressed me against his chest. “I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step.”

 

“You’re gonna stay in the car?” Dean asked once again, poking his head in through the window.

I nodded. “I’m gonna see if the satellite phone connects.”

He patted Baby’s roof as he stood back up. “Keep your gun on you. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

“I know.” I clenched the handgun tighter. “You guys too.”

Dean and Sam nodded before walking off to talk to the Tanners in the Tanners’ home.

The satellite phone wouldn’t connect. 911 wasn’t working either. And the phone lines were dead dead. No internet. Nothing. We were cut off completely from the outside world. Even the GPS wasn’t loading. Whoever had done this… was good at it. I was 90% sure it was that Duane Tanner kid who had done this. And he was gonna kill someone innocent. I was pretty sure it was the army guy, but… could my memory even be relied upon?

I jumped when I heard gunshots echoing through the block. I gripped the gun in my hands tight. Dean and Sam could hold their own in a gunfight. They were gonna be fine. Surely they were gonna be fine. A part of me wanted to go out and make sure they were alright, but I also didn’t want to slow them down by crowding them even more.

 

“Doctor! We need a doctor!” Sam yelled as he guided the lady indoors. She was Mrs. Tanner, attacked by a Mr. Tanner and brother Tanner gone rogue. Duane Tanner was on the loose. And now I knew for sure that Duane Tanner was infected. And Sam’s dream only seemed to confirm that.

According to my fading memories, the Croatoan was a virus that could be transferred through blood. If you had an open wound and the blood of an infected dripped into it then… I shuddered. Was Mrs. Tanner infected? She most probably was. But I couldn’t just whip out my gun and shoot her dead. Unless Sam and Dean and everyone else labeled me as insane and killed me for going rogue instead.

Never mind the fact that we had a dead Mr. Tanner in the boot of the Impala.

The situation was delicate.

A young nurse ran outside when she spotted us dragging in the older woman. “Mrs. Tanner!” she gasped. “What happened?”

“She's been attacked.” Sam explained.

“Doctor Lee!” the young woman called, and a middle aged lady came rushing.

“Bring her in.” The lady ordered.

“I’ll take her inside.” I said to Sam. “You help Dean get the body out.”

He nodded and left me with the doctor, the nurse, and a shaking Mrs. Tanner in a small clinic office.

“What happened?” The doctor, Doctor Lee, asked as she started checking on Mrs. Tanner.

“She was attacked.” I responded. And the brothers came in with the body wrapped up in a bag. “By that.” I motioned to the dead body.

“Mr. Tanner…?” the young nurse gasped.

“Yeah.”

“But he’s dead!”

“He got himself shot.”

Dean and Sam dropped the wrapped up corpse on the cold white tiled floor.

“What?! By who ?!”

Man, this nurse asked a lot of questions. I pulled out my badge. “U.S. Marshalls. We were here on a case, and went to question Duane Tanner. Inside, we found Mr. Tanner and brother Tanner tying up and threatening Mrs. Tanner. And… well, Mr. Tanner got shot, but the other son ran away. And Duane Tanner is nowhere to be found as of yet.”

“Pam,” the doctor said as she stood up. “Help them bring the body to the morgue.” It was then that I noticed the cut on Mrs. Tanner’s shoulder. It had been covered by her red cardigan, so I hadn’t realised… Dammit. She was most likely infected. Dr. Lee took on a more gentle tone as she addressed Mrs. Tanner. “Beverly… They said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?”

‘Beverly’ sniffled. “They beat me. Tied me up.”

“Do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?” Dr. Lee’s manicured fingers were quick as they started scratching down details of her story.

“No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them.”

I heard shuffling outside the door, and I knew for a fact that Dean and Sam had caught that snippet and were discussing it outside the office. I pushed off from my spot and headed for the hallway, letting the door fall close behind me with a soft click.

“What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?” I heard Sam speaking.

“If it is a possession there could be more.” Dean paced in a circle. “I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention.”

“Great.” Sam said sarcastically and leaned against a wall. Dean continued pacing.

“Situation's bad.” I stated the obvious. But really, I couldn’t provide them any other information. “But not demons.” The brothers looked at me with grim faces.

Sam’s lips formed a thin line. “We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs.”

“Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know,” Dean jabbed an accusing finger into his brother’s chest. “If you woulda taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about.”

Sam laughed in disbelief. “I'm sorry, all right? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!”

“No, it was an ‘it’. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam.”

“Dean.” I stepped between the brothers. “Now’s not the time to pick a fight.”

Dr. Lee stalked out of her office, her heels clicking rhythmically against the white tiles. “What the hell happened out there?”

“We don’t know.” I answered.

“Oh yeah? Cause you guys just killed my next door neighbor!”

Otherwise she would have been killed. And little did she know I was planning on killing her latest patient too. But I very well couldn’t tell her that. “Sorry, we didn’t have a choice.” I said instead.

“Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner…”

“Phones are down.” Sam said.

“I know, I tried.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me you have a police radio in the car?”

“That crapped out too.” Dean responded.

“I don't understand what is happening.” The doctor exhaled slowly.

“How far is it to the next town?” Dean asked.

The woman thought for a second. “It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder.”

“All right, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help. She’ll come with me.” Dean nodded to me. “And my partner here.” Dean grinned as he clapped Sam’s shoulder. “Will keep you guys safe.”

“Safe from what?”

I checked to make sure my gun was still tucked in safely, locked and loaded. “We’ll explain when we can.”

 

As we got in the car, I looked to my left at Dean. He caught my eye but quickly broke our gaze. “So what did you want us alone for?”

“That woman.” He said as he backed out of the parking spot. I tried to ignore how hot he looked with his arm slung over the back of my seat and his neck muscles stretching and revealing more skin around his collar bone. Damn. “You didn’t really look like you wanted to save her.”

I remained silent.

“Whatever got those guys… the Tanners… you think it got her too?” I sighed. And that was answer enough for him. “Great. I’ve officially left Sammy with a psycho.”

But Sammy couldn’t be infected. I’d scoured the internet for more information on this episode. And it kind of stuck in my head that the whole point of the episode was to establish that Sam couldn’t be infected. Again, nothing I could say out loud.

Dean sped up a little. “All the more reason to get help.”

 

We pulled over at a particularly roughed up intersection. Broken cars were everywhere, some bloodied, and others charred to death. There was a pileup of five a few feet away, and next to it a pile of dead bodies. I shuddered.

Dean reached out to squeeze my hand. “Stay in the car.” He said as he got out.

I kept my handgun tucked in my jeans, and reached for the shotgun under the seat. I cocked the weapon and leaned out the window to keep an eye on my husband. He checked out each car, whether for survivors or more attackers, I wasn’t sure. But he kept his gun handy. And good thing too, because a figure jumped out from behind one of the cars and tried to stab him with a knife. He twisted to shoot at it, and he did. But there was another one at an unshootable angle from him. I lifted my shotgun and aimed. Right for the head. The bullet took less than a second to bury itself in the other rogue’s brain, and they dropped dead too.

Dean panted as he came back to the car. “Nice shot.” he complimented, and twisted Baby’s ignition alive.

The situation was horrifying. It was like driving in an apocalyptic town. Not a single human anywhere. All the ones we came across were either infected by the virus and rendered inhumane or just dead bodies.

“They’re not human.” I said, once again, as I shot another one in the head.

“Yeah.” Dean’s grip was tight on Baby’s wheel. He dodged another corpse on the road, and I grimaced at the swerve.

This felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. I felt sick.

“We’re just doing our job.” Dean muttered.

“Yeah. They're not human.”

“Just a job.”

I knew we were both just repeating the same thing over and over again. As much as for ourselves as for the other.

There was a particularly sharp curve, and Dean cursed. I braced myself against the open windows, but we made the turn. “Visibility is shit.” He pressed harder on the accelerator again.

“Maybe we should go a little slower.”

“Sammy’s all alone over there.”

“That’s fair.”

“Just sit back, sweetheart.”

And I did. For a total of five seconds, because Baby screeched to a halt once more and someone landed on the roof. “What?” I gasped when the person on top rolled over the sides and landed on his feet.

“Hey!” the man grinned. He leaned in through my side of the window. I leaned away.

“Hi.” I said lamely.

Dean wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me a little close. “What’s up?” He gave a lazy smirk.

“Sorry road’s closed.” the man smiled. It felt hollow.

I looked through the windshield, and sure enough, there was a row of cars blocking the bridge. And it was armed to the… I dunno actually, it was just armed to everything. I didn’t miss any of the blood splatters or the few dead bodies on the side of the road either. I was glad for Dean’s warmth, because otherwise I knew for a fact I would have passed out from the chills running down my back. “We can see that.” His voice rumbled. “What for?”

“Quarantine.”

“Quarantine? What is it?” Covid 19. My brain uselessly provided as a joke.

The man outside the car shrugged. “Don't know. Something going around out there.”

“Uh-huh.” Dean’s voice was coated with sarcasm. “Who told you that?”

“County Sheriff.”

Dean’s fingers tightened on my waist. “Is he here?”

“No. He called. Say, why don't you get out of the car with the Missus, and we'll talk a little?”

Dean laughed nervously. “Well, you are a handsome devil, but sorry, we’re not open to strangers in our relationship.”

I took that as a cue to smile nervously.

“I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute.” the man offered again.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you would.”

Baby was jolted into reverse. I pulled out my handgun and shot at the man who refused to let go of the window. But the car was moving a tad bit too much for me to actually get a good hit. The bullet went into some random tree instead. The man clawed at the inside of the car, trying to get a grip on something to pull himself inside. The other armed men were shooting from the outside, but they didn’t pursue. Interesting. I turned my attention back to the man trying to get inside.

Different tactics. I slammed my foot into the man’s nose, and he gave a cry out of pain. One of his hands let go, and created enough of an open space for me to unlatch the door. He cried once more when he lost grip of the flying door. I watched with deep breaths as his body rolled away through the side mirror.

I sank back against Dean, away from the open side. His hand settled on my hip while he pulled Baby to a stop. “You are one insane woman.”

I closed the door, and tilted my head back on his shoulder. I reveled in the proud grin he gave me when our eyes met. “Knew I did right by choosing you.”

I cracked a smile despite the absurdity of the whole situation. “Me too.”

 

“Son of a–”

My head almost hit the dashboard as Baby skidded to a stop once more.

“Hands where I can see them!” someone yelled.

I reached for my gun in my waistband, but there was a rifle already aimed in my direction. I swallowed.

Dean held his hands up. “Do as he says.” he urged.

“Out of the car!”

I slowly got out of the car, squinting against the harsh sunlight. It was the black dude that had served in the Army.

“All right, easy there, big guy.” Dean said with exaggerated motions.

I took the chance and pulled out my handgun.

“Put that down!” the man yelled.

Using that as a distraction, Dean pulled out his own on the man. “No you put yours down!”

“Lower it now!” the man demanded again.

My hands remained steady as I sidestepped closer to Dean. “You put yours down!” I said, in an effort to look stronger than I actually felt.

“You guys one of ‘em?” the man questioned.

“No!” Dean answered. “Are you?”

“No!”

“You could be lying!” I pointed out.

The man growled. “So could you!”

“All right, all right.” Dean finally stepped between us. “We could do this all day, all right?” He slowly lowered his gun. “Let’s just, uh, take it easy before we kill each other.”

When the man lowered his weapon, I did the same.

“What's going on with everybody?” the man asked.

“I don’t know.” Dean answered.

“My neighbor… Mr. Rogers, he—”

“You’ve got a neighbor named Rogers?”

“Dean!” I hissed at him. “Not the time!”

The man took it in stride. “Not anymore.” But it was hard to not notice the slight waver in his voice. He could be infected. But he also could be fine. It was hard to tell. Mrs. Tanner had been a great actress. “He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one, I mean, it's happening to everyone.”

I clenched my fists. Yeah. I’d shot quite a few people today. “We’re heading back to the clinic.”

“Yeah, there’s still some people left.” Dean added.

“No, no way.” The man shook his head. “I'm getting the hell out.”

“There's no way out, they got the bridge covered, come on.” Dean opened the door to the Impala as an invitation.

I gaped at him. “Dean, we can’t just trust him!” Though I vaguely remembered someone looking like him being the sole voice of reason after a point. And he was also the one that got killed by Duane Tanner…

“I don't believe you.” the man said.

“Fine, stay here, be my guest.” Dean made a ‘get in’ motion for me. “Come on, sweetheart. We gotta get back to Sammy.”

I backed into the car, keeping an eye on the man. But he seemed to change his mind and got into the backseat.

The barrels of our guns met each others’. I didn’t trust my memories. And clearly this man didn’t trust me in general.

Dean sighed as he moved Baby to Drive. “Well, this ought to be a relaxing drive.”

 

Dean pulled into the parking spot, and the three of us got out with our guns up, ready to shoot in case someone attacked.

“Sammy! Open up!” Dean yelled.

The door was pulled open and a grim Sam stood in front of us. “Did you guys, uh, get to a phone?”

“Roadblock.” Dean said. He turned to the man we’d picked up. “We’re gonna have a word. Doc's inside.”

The man nodded, and headed further into the clinic with his rifle on his back.

“What's going on out there?” Sam asked us.

“Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean,” I understood none of that reference. “Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?”

“Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus.”

Yeah. I was right.

“Okay, great. What do you think?”

“Based on Sharon’s expression, I think we hit the nail on the head.”

Dean looked at me, shocked. “Really?”

I nodded. I looked at Sam. “It's a virus. Spreads from blood to blood. Leaves a sulfur residue in the blood.”

“So a demonic virus?”

“Yeah.” Sam continued. “More like demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why I've been having visions.”

“Like a Biblical Plague.”

“Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean.” Sam pulled out my iPad he had hidden under his jacket. “I've been poring through these notes, found something about the Roanoke colony.”

“And?”

“Dad has some notes on it.” He opened it up and started scrolling through the pages. “He had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Reesha.” He pointed to a series of highlights and familiar cursive scribbles at the edges of the digital pages. “A demon of plague and pestilence.”

“Well, that- that's terrific.” Dean threw his hands in perplexity. “Why here, why now?”

“I have no idea. But who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people.”

“Right. Hey y’all, just strolling through, and letting y’all know.” I put on a dramatic voice. “There’s a virus that leaves sulfur residue in your blood and turns you into mindless killing machines in less than a day! Watch out! And it spreads through blood! Oh, did I mention it was demonic?” I scoffed. “We can’t just warn people about things like that. No one’s gonna believe us. They’ll call us crazy and throw us into a psych hospital.” I nodded towards the people inside the clinic. “Only reason they’re accepting it is ‘cause they’ve lived it.”

“She has a point.” Dean said quietly.

“Unfortunately.” Sam sighed.

“You know, I always did find it weird.” Dean said suddenly. “That-that limiting spell thing on you. You couldn’t say a word until now, so,” He raised an eyebrow. “Why can you talk about this now?”

“Dean…” I narrowed my eyes at him. “We’ve known each other for nearly ten years. Dated for two years. And we’ve been married for four and counting. And you’re just asking me this now ?” He shrugged. I almost laughed at how ‘Dean’ it was of him to not have questioned it. “Oh Dean. You’re hilarious.”

Sam answered for me. “I think it’s because she can’t reveal information that hasn’t been found out yet. Since I know about it, and I was going to tell you about it, she can reveal it.”

I nodded in agreement. “The thing’s weird, honestly. It’s like a weird plot device so that I don’t change every single thing about this world. I guess.” I shrugged. “Who knows who’s controlling this.”

“Is it not the voice in your head?” Sam asked.

No, it wasn’t. I hadn’t heard from Djibril ever since I’d been pulled out of Hell. I shuddered at the very thought of it. If Djibril hadn’t taken me out then…

“They've got one! In here!” the man yelled from inside.

The three of us rushed into the room next to us. “What do you mean?”

“The wife. She's infected.” Sam said quietly.

 

We locked Mrs. Tanner in the janitor’s closet, where she struggled against her binds. I would have gagged her but every time one of us got close enough to her face, she would try to bite. It had been enough of a challenge tying her arms and legs

“We've gotta take care of this.” the man started pacing. “We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get.”

I had my gun in my hand and opened the janitor’s closet door wide.

“You're just gonna kill Beverly Tanner?” the young nurse from earlier gasped.

“Doctor, could there be any treatment?” Sam tried to figure out. “Some kind of cure for this?”

“For God's sake, I don't even know what ‘it’ is!”

“I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through.” the man kept insisting. And I agreed with him. There was no cure. We had to kill the woman at some point. And better sooner than later.

“Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!” the young nurse protested.

Alright. That was it. “She’s gone! That’s not human anymore!” I yelled. “And if we don’t kill her now, then she’ll kill us !” Sam winced when I raised my voice. But he didn’t argue with my stance.

The woman that was still tied up began to sob. “Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it's, it's them! They locked me in here, they-they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!” She hiccupped.

The man, Mark, and I raised our guns. Dean did the same, but I pushed his arm down. If anyone was going to do the dirty work when I was around then I wanted it to be me. I’d already killed a bunch of the infected today. What was another one? Besides, I’d seen the way Dean’s green eyes had trembled just a tad bit at having to kill someone in front of Sam. Even then… I just had to make sure. “Do we know, for a fact, that she’s infected?” I asked the doctor.

“I-i don’t know!” she gripped her hair. “What is happening?”

“Did you find sulfur in her blood?”

“Yes! Yes! Goddammit! Yes I did!”

“So she’s infected.”

And boy weren’t we glad that I’d taken the initiative to tie her up. She launched herself at me with her mouth wide open, ready to bite. I raised my gun and shot twice at her chest. Blood pooled in her mouth and dribbled onto the white tiles. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot when they met mine and her lips curled into a sneer. By the time the last signs of life finally left her, her face had twisted into one of utter madness.

 

I swung my legs nervously from the top of a table. Sam was fiddling with his knife. Dean was reloading and rechecking our guns. Mark was looking out the window and the doctor was testing all of our blood. Just in case. It had been mostly my insistence. Because I was pretty sure that the young nurse didn’t make it out alive. I just couldn’t remember if she was killed by the infected or one of us.

Well, right now, she was babbling incoherently and shaking in her chair. So if she was infected… then she was a damn good actress. I at least wanted to see if I could warn them.

“Guys,” I caught Sam’s and Dean’s attention. They looked up quizzically. “We need to talk. Or try to.” The brothers caught on and we headed outside. “Look–” I opened my mouth to try and say ‘we’re the only uninfected ones along with the doctor and the man.’ That was a no go. ‘Sam, you need to trust Dean’s guts.’ Also a no go. “Do you guys trust me?” I asked quietly.

Sam and Dean looked at each other and then back at me like I’d just asked them if they had vaginas instead of penises. “’Course, we do.”

I wrapped my arms around my middle and nodded. “I’m gonna ask you guys to just- just let me do everything.”

“If it involves you putting yourself in danger, then no.” Dean said firmly.

“Yeah. same.” Sam bit his lip. “I trust you with my life, Sharon. But I also want you to know. I care a lot about you too. I’m not gonna watch you die. Again.”

Dean ran a hand over his mouth and nodded. “Yeah, we’re not doing that again.”

I forced a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

 

While we were gone, Mark had taken it upon himself to create homemade explosives. He was impressed with a side of concern when Dean, Sam, and I started making our own without any guidance from him. Our defense was that ‘John/Dad taught us’.

The banging on one of the doors had us all scrambling to our feet.

The four of us crept towards the door, and outside was a blond kid with a scar above his brow. Duane Tanner. His leg was cut open and a bag was half falling off his shoulder. I should shoot him. I really should.

“Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!”

“That’s Duane Tanner!” Mark exclaimed and helped the boy in. Dean and Sam re-barricaded the door to keep the other infected out.

Duane was babbling nonsense. His eyes were blown wild and his whole form was shaking. Blood kept oozing onto the cold white tiles. Infected. I clenched my gun. If I shot him now, then Mark and the doctor and that nurse might try to kill me instead. Dammit!

“Sam.” Dean said in a hushed whisper. “Is that the guy I, uh…”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who else is in here?” Duane tried to stumble around but Dean gripped his arm.

“Whoah, where do you think you’re going? Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?”

The doctor came into view and she nodded. “Bring him into the lab.”

I walked close behind them as the doctor started drawing the blood.

“Who are you?” Duane asked.

“Never mind that.” Dean said curtly. He was on edge.

“Duane. Where you been?” Mark kept a hand on the kid’s shoulder while the doctor drew the blood.

“On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I… I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know!” Duane’s eyes were haunted. “They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom and dad?” An insanely good actor.

“Awkward…” Dean tried to joke to Sam. Sam just glared at him.

“You're bleeding.” the doctor stated.

“Where’d you get that?”

Duane shrugged. “I was running, I must have tripped.”

“Until the blood results come back, let’s tie him up.” Dean jerked his head towards the rope that we’d used to tie up the kid’s mother.

“Wait…” Duane started.

I aimed my gun at him. “Sit down.”

“What?!” He tried to stand up.

“They’re right, Duane.” Mark soothed. “We have to be careful.”

“Careful? About what?” The kid looked around frantically.

“Did they bleed on you?” Dean questioned.

“No, what the hell? No!”

“How long for the results, Doc?” Sam asked.

The doctor chewed her lip. “I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards.”

“My mom!” Duane gasped.

“It took three hours for the virus to incubate,” The doctor answered. “The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so… no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns. Our own bloodwork is gonna take another couple of hours. I’ll be able to tell then.”

 

The sun dipped over the horizon and launched us into darkness. The generators were still running, and the hum of them along with the exhaustion from all of today’s excitement had lulled me to sleep at some point. Dean had offered me his shoulder, and his body was a steady stream of warmth against the cold seeping in through my jacket. Sam sat nearby, fiddling with chemicals, and making explosives along with Mark.

A shrill shriek cut through the room. “It’s her! It’s her! She’s infected!” I snapped my eyes open. Who?

Where? Had someone made it inside? I raised my gun. “Where?!” I looked behind me. Where was this person?

A pair of strong hands clamped around my arms and pulled me away from my personal space heater. Huh? “Tie her up!”

My teeth rattled when they were forced into the floor and my wrists were bound with brutal ropes that cut deep.

“Me?!” I twisted around to see Dean and Sam staring at me horrified.

“I wanna see her results.” Sam demanded.

“There’s no way she’s infected.” Dean insisted. “She’s been sleeping like a baby this whole time! What part of her do you think is insane?!”

Things were happening too fast. I didn’t have an injury. There was no way I could have been infected. But what if I had? Mark forced me into a standing position and tossed me into the janitor’s closet.

Lifeless Mrs. Tanner gazed blankly at me. A pool of her blood had formed around her. Most of it had dried, leaving a tiny amount of clear space. But was the virus still active in there? Would I be infected if it touched me? What if I really did have an injury that I didn’t know about?

I could hear Dean desperately screaming at Sam, who was screaming back at him. Dean was tired. Tired of this job. Tired that someone always seemed to be on the brink of death. And so was Sam, because it was tearing our family apart, one by one. First their Dad, and then nearly Dean, and then me. He didn’t want that for Jessica. I didn’t want that for any of them. I sniffled into my knees.

I tried to ignore the cold dead body I’d been locked up with. I’d shot her. I’d shot so many people. They had been parents, siblings, children, grandchildren to someone in the world, and I’d killed them. Maybe I would have gone to hell even if I didn’t make that deal. I closed my eyes and curled into a ball. I was gonna die. Again. And this time. Maybe Dean would be the one to shoot me.

 

“Did you get blood on you?” Dean asked again from the other side of the door.

And again, I shook my head from side to side. I hadn’t. As per my knowledge. I hadn’t gotten blood on me.

“But Dean… we clearly saw the sulfur in her blood.” Sam whispered.

“Then why hasn’t she gone insane yet? Huh?”

“The results are clear.” Mark said coldly. “She’s infected. We need to put her down.”

“She’s not some kind of dog you can just shoot!” But I could shoot myself.

“You’d said it yourself. Those things aren’t human anymore!”

“No one’s shooting my wife.” No one in the room even questioned that we were married.

“He isn't gonna be your wife much longer.” Duane said slowly. “You said it yourself.”

“Nobody is shooting anyone!” Dean’s voice was desperate.

“You were going to shoot me!”

“You don’t stop saying shit, I still might!”

“Dean!” I said from my spot. He turned to me. “If they really found sulfur in my blood, then I really might be infected.” I finally brought up what had been running through my head. “Just give me the gun. I can just shoot myself.”

“Forget it.” he shook his head.

“Dean, just let me go.”

“Look, I’m sorry that it has come to this. But if the sulfur is already in her blood, then she’s already gone.”

The door was pulled open and Mark aimed his gun at me. My muscles involuntarily stiffened. Dying by gunshot seemed more desirable than having my soul literally ripped inside out from my body and dragged through the depths of the world and into Hell.

“I'm gonna say this one time—” Dean pulled out his own handgun. He placed himself in the doorway, his back to me, and his gun facing Mark. “You make a move on her, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me?” No response. “I mean, do I make myself clear ?!”

I had never heard him that angry. Or maybe I had, but it had never sounded like this . He sounded angry, desperate, loud.

His shoulders were broad as they practically filled the doorway. His stance was firm. Strong. Even when his voice wavered and rose in pitch from something akin to fear coated in anger he was strong . And I swore I was falling in love again. When no one said anything, I was ready for them to shove Dean aside and just put the bullet in my head anyway.

“Okay.” Sam said after a few tense moments of silence. “Check her blood again.”

“ What? ” the nurse hissed.

“I’ll draw the blood.” Sam offered. “Dean can keep an eye on her. If she attacks, then he’ll shoot.” Sam looked at Dean. “Right?”

Dean’s eyes flitted between me and his brother. It was like asking him to choose. So I chose for him. “Just kill me, alright? No hard feelings. If I really am infected then I’d rather die than end up being the reason one of you dies.”

Something seemed to break in Dean but he gathered himself back up. “Fine.”

 

“Negative for sulfur.” Sam breathed as he looked away from the microscope. “There’s no sulfur in her blood.”

“Impossible.” the nurse gasped. “I-i know for a fact I–” she quickly caught her tongue, but Sam and Dean were already suspicious. And so was I. Had she…?!

“You what?” Dean demanded. “What did you do?”

Mark’s jaw fell open. “You didn’t… Pam you didn’t…”

“What?” She looked around frantically. “What did I do?”

“What blood type is she?” the doctor suddenly asked.

“What?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Her blood type. Sharon’s blood type.” She pulled out a page of circles and placed it on the table.

“A positive.” Dean answered. “Why?”

The doctor pursed her lips as she dropped a drop of my blood in every circle on the sheet. I knew what it was. A blood test sheet. It wasn’t super duper accurate. But they were pretty accurate in determining it. “The blood samples don’t match.” She showed us the two charts. “The one with the sulfur. Someone had switched out the blood samples.” Her eyes fell on Pam. “You were the only one who had access to them other than me. And you’re a B negative.”

The nurse broke character. She lunged for Sam. Dean raised his gun and shot before she could even get close enough.

I couldn’t believe it. I really wasn’t infected. I sniffled as the tears finally escaped. I wasn’t gonna die. That-that girl had lied– Dean had almost had to shoot me. I’d almost brought that fate on him. I was aware that he blamed himself for me going to Hell. It had torn him apart from the inside and he had had to live with it. And I’d almost made him deal with that guilt again.

Mark was apologetic when he untied my legs and hands and helped me back on my feet. Dean visibly relaxed when I walked over to him and buried my nose in his jacket. He rubbed my back up and down and looked at Duane. “Do we have results on him yet?”

The doctor looked at the microscopes and nodded. “We should.” She sat at the desk and her eyes widened. “No– get away from him–”

Duane jumped Mark. The bigger man fought him off, expertly throwing the blond kid off his shoulders. “He didn’t get blood on me! Shoot!” Mark exclaimed.

This time, Sam picked up the gun and shot. Three times square in the chest. Duane slumped over, dead.

I gripped Dean’s sleeve to keep myself up right. What the fuck had just happened. It was all too much all at once.

“Sam?” Dean said loudly. “Sammy?!” He lunged forwards as Sam’s knees buckled under him. He lowered his brother slowly to the floor and patted him down. “Are you hurt? Hey, you okay, baby brother?”

I dropped to my knees too and pressed a hand to his head. He was cold. Shock, maybe? That he’d shot someone?

“Sam, that guy wasn’t human anymore.” I reminded him. “Remember? He had the virus. He was a demon.”

“He was a kid .” Sam rasped out.

“He wasn’t human.” Mark repeated.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean patted his brother’s cheek. “Listen to them, Sammy. Alright? You did nothing wrong.”

Sam gave the barest of nods and sat with my and Dean’s help.

Dean slid out from under Sam’s arm and let me hold the larger Winchester steady. “Let’s get outta here.” Dean grabbed his keys. “We’ve got enough explosives to blast through ‘em. Nothin’s stopping us from getting out.”

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” Mark said and the five of us started making our way to the barricaded entrance of the clinic.

“You okay?” I asked Sam when he gently shrugged off my supporting hand.

“Yeah,” he forced a smile. “Just a- just a little rattled. I guess.”

“Mhm.” I patted his shoulder. “Just know that we got your back.”

His smile grew a little more genuine. “Thanks. You too.”

With one final grunt, Dean and Mark managed to make enough space for us to exit the clinic.

I gripped my gun as we all slowly slipped out, only to be faced with nothing. The entire town had been deserted. Well, nothing I hadn’t expected. It stuck to its name pretty well.

 

“There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just… vanished.” the doctor said as she and I finished our patrol around the clinic.

Dean and Sam came back next, with the same news. Mark shook his head when he made it back. “Everyone’s gone. All signs of life. Not even a worm under a rock.”

Sam, Dean, and I looked at each other. “What about the blood?” Sam asked.

“I’ll go look.” the doctor turned back to the lab.

“I’ll go with her.” Mark offered.

“Us too.” I grabbed Dean’s and Sam’s hands and dragged them along. I followed after her, even though I already knew the answer.

“What the hell?” she gasped.

“Hm?”

“Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing.”

 

“Mark and I are gonna go to Sidewinder.” I assumed that by Sidewinder, the doctor meant the town across the bridge. “We’ll see if we can get help over here.”

“Assuming the authorities ever believe us.” Mark sighed. “You Marshalls think you can help us with that?”

“Actually,” Dean grinned sheepishly from his spot against the Impala. “We’re not Marshalls.”

“Oh.” the doctor’s eyes flickered to me and then Sam. “I did find it strange you were all family.”

“So who are you guys, really?” Mark tilted his head.

“This is what we do.” Dean answered for us. “Our job. Finding weird strange shit like this and then kicking the asses of those that start this.”

Sam and I nodded. “So she’s clean, Doc?” Sam asked one final time.

The doctor nodded. “Completely. Pam had switched out their blood samples.”

“So where you guys headed now?” Mark asked us.

“Dunno.” Sam shrugged. “Wherever we think we’ll have a new case.”

“Guys, uh, do us a favor.” I spoke up. “Don’t mention us when you guys get to the authorities.” I looked at the doctor and Mark. “Please.” I added, in good faith.

The two of them nodded. “Well, thanks anyway.”

Their truck rumbled down the road, weaving in and out from the destroyed abandoned town. It felt like the ending of an apocalypse movie.

“So.” Sam cleared his throat. “Are we gonna talk about this?”

“About what?” Dean said blankly as he got into the driver’s side.

“That thing when we thought Sharon was gone.” Sam looked at me. “You too Sharon.” I tried to dodge his question by getting into the backseat. “Can we talk about how you were just ready to die?” Sam got into the passenger’s side and twisted around to make eye contact, which I promptly broke.

“I’ve died once, Sam. I went to Hell.” The word had everybody in the car shifting uneasily. All of us had avoided ever since I’d gotten back. “Being shot didn’t seem like a big deal.” Lies. I had been terrified. Not for my life. My life was pretty miserable. But for their lives. “I was more worried about you two. Didn’t wanna kill anyone I cared about.”

“There you have it.” Dean said as he started up Baby.

“We haven’t talked about you yet, Dean.” Sam’s voice rose a little. “You said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of Sharon.” He took a shaky breath. “You were ready to give up on your life.”

“Come on man, I thought we were all going to die, you can't hold that over me.” Dean tried to brush it off.

“No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking.”

Sam had finally caught onto the depths of Dean’s depression. The self deprecation. The feeling that it was all his fault shit happened the way it did. He blamed everything on himself. I clamped my hand over my eyes and leaned back on the bench seat.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. I breathed slowly in and out even as it wavered.

“And what if I don't?” Dean challenged. He’d built up that damn stupid wall.

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do.” Sam said pointedly.

“I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to… go to the Grand Canyon.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan.”

“Dean.” I said from my spot. I couldn’t see him. But I knew for a fact his knuckles had gone white on the steering wheel. “Talk. We're trying to help.”

“You too, Sharon.” Sam quipped. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you yet.”

I moved my hand from my eyes and caught the turmoil in his hazel eyes. “Sam. Some things are better left unknown.”

Dean smacked his hand on the wheel. “Exactly, Sammy.”

“No.” Sam and I both said.

“Okay. Look, guys.” Dean sighed. “I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit? Why are we the ones sacrificing ourselves left and right, you know what I mean?”

“Why are you saying all this?”

Dean said nothing.

“No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit.” I heard Sam turn around in his seat. “Help me out a little here, Sharon.” I avoid his gaze by draping an arm over my eyes.

I would have. I really would have. But then I would just be a huge hypocrite. Because Dean didn’t have anything to him besides saving everyone. And neither did I. Why else had I been brought to this world? Just to warm Dean’s bed? Leave balls of yarn and stacks of books and plush animals everywhere I went? I swallowed the lump in my throat. I needed help. But I had nowhere to get it.

Notes:

Already have the next chap in the works. I'll be trying to upload that soon. But it's gonna be very OG so expect terrible pacing and absolutely random shi-stuff.
But I have to talk to a bunch of high schoolers tomorrow and I'm like their mentor or smth so yeah, my social anxiety can't do this. If any one of them says "skibidi" or "ohio" or "rizz" or "gyatt" or "sped" I absolutely will murder a minor for mental distress. Oh and I have to do lab stuff I lied on my resume about and as it turns out so did the others. so no one knows what we're doing. we're cooked. wish me luck. :)

Chapter 37: Hunted

Summary:

"In my defense, I’d been more distracted by Jessica in that gorgeous backless skintight dress.
As Dean burped again, I found myself regretting my life choices. I should have found and married Jessica instead."

ATP idk why I'm putting things in the summary. this is all so mid.

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Implied r*pe
2. My attempt at writing depression and anxiety and all that stuff
3. Terrible writing

“How nice of you kids to drop by.” Bobby said sarcastically as the three of us exited the Impala. Rumsfeld gave us more of a happy yip as he pranced around us.

“Hey boy!” Sam and I knelt down to pat the very excited doggie. “Sorry, Bobby.” Sam, ever the people pleaser, started apologising. “Just a lot of things going on, and– hey!” He stopped halfway through his speech when Jessica threw herself against him. A very loud kiss ensued and Dean and I fake gagged while Bobby rolled his eyes. Rumsfeld barked.

“Come on inside, you idjits.”

 

Rumsfeld drooled on my jeans, his eyes starting to droop. He was heavy, and growing fast. I scratched under his chin and his pink tongue shot out to lick my hand. “That dog is getting more action than I’ve gotten from you in days.” Something very suspiciously sounded like a stifled moan. Huh . Dean leaned to whisper in my ear. “If those two kiss again I’m gonna fuck you into the couch in front of them.”

I continued sipping my coffee. “You do that and I’ll pour this coffee on your precious jewels.”

“Sounds hot.”

I met his mischievously flirty eyes. I couldn’t help but smirk myself. “What kind?”

His voice dipped low. “I can think of a few things.”

“I feel like I’ve been cursed.” Bobby said as he exited the kitchen with snacks. He glanced between me and Dean, and Sam and Jessica. “You kids always get this frisky?”

“Bobby!” I groaned. The others laughed.

“So why are you guys here?” Bobby sat down in his armchair. “You kids don’t just stop by for this old man. Last time I got a call from one of you was when you were trying to hunt down an evil Jedi. What’s going on?”

“Sam and Jessica have an announcement.” I said casually. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

Dean’s head snapped to Sam. “Did you knock her up?”

“What?” Sam frowned. “No! We’re responsible adults, Dean ! We use condoms! And-and Jess takes a plan B pill– we don’t do it when she’s ovulating–”

“Sam.” Dean deadpanned. “ Too much information .”

Sam pouted. Bobby snorted. I tried to hold back a laugh. Jessica laughed with her head back.

“Well?” Bobby took a swig of his beer. “Off with it.”

“We’re…” Sam reached for Jessica’s hand. “We’re getting married.”

Dean barely registered the noise and pain when his knee painfully hit the edge of the coffee table when he shot up and crossed over to Sam in two large strides. “Come on up.” he urged.

“Dean?” Sam looked a little terrified.

“Come on up and let me give you a hug before I change my mind.”

Sam broke in the biggest smile he’d given all day and let his brother wrap his arms around him. He himself was tearing up and leaned into Dean’s embrace.

“Congrats.” I said to Jessica.

“Thanks.” she smiled.

Okay, uh. Was I supposed to hug her now? Ask to look at her ring? Ask when the wedding was? When they’d gotten engaged? Pop a bottle of champagne? Was she even expecting something more from me?

“‘Scuse her.” Bobby said for me. “She’s not good with congratulating people.”

He could say that again. Jessica laughed. “It’s not a problem.” Her blue eyes were lovely and they twinkled when Sam let go of Dean and wrapped an arm around her instead. “Sam told me you were happy for us.” She looked up at him. “That’s what matters to us most.”

“C’mere Sam.” Bobby ushered the boy close and Sam left his fiancee to hug the older man. Dean went straight for Jess and pulled her close.

She squealed and patted his back. “Alright! Alright! I can’t breathe!”

Dean pulled away and clapped her shoulder. “You be good to him.”

“I will.”

“And if he’s doing something stupid,” He huffed playfully at Sam. “Then you call me. Or her.” He jabbed a finger in my direction and I awkwardly gave a wave.

“Well.” Bobby stood with his hands on his hips. “We’re gonna need something fancier than beer for this.” He looked at me. “Mind pulling some strings from ‘Brewicide’ and seeing if we can get a private party?” I hadn’t been there in a while. But the boss from the place where I’d fallen in love with bartending still kept in touch with me.

I pulled out my phone. “On it.”

 

“Designated driver, Dean.” I reminded him as the five of us stumbled out of the bar. The owner waved from the doorway and I waved back. Maybe I could pick up a shift tomorrow as a thank you. He did say one of his barbacks needed a day off for an exam.

“‘M fine.” he drawled. But he reeked of alcohol and he looked like he was gonna throw up any minute.

I sighed. I should have been stricter with his cutoff. But how was I supposed to know he was gonna sneak shots of vodka when I wasn’t looking? The bill had been utterly horrifying when I’d seen how many drinks he’d managed to sneak under my radar. In my defense, I’d been more distracted by Jessica in that gorgeous backless skintight dress.

As Dean burped again, I found myself regretting my life choices. I should have found and married Jessica instead.

“You guys gonna be okay?” Sam asked from where he’d parked their ‘69 Camaro. Bobby watched from his own sedan carefully.

“We’re fine!” I called out. I managed to shove Dean into Baby and let out an exhausted breath. He was heavy. Damn. 175 pounds of pure solid muscle.

I fished for the keys in his pocket and got into the driver’s side. The bench lurched forward and Dean hissed in pain when his knee with the bruise from earlier rammed into the dashboard. “No space, sweetheart.” he slurred.

“Designated driver.” I repeated. The food had been good, I’d probably eaten too much for the night and that alfredo was already wrecking my stomach– yeah I should have laid off the milk. “Suck it up, buttercup.” I twisted Baby to life and pulled out of the lot. Sam and Bobby followed in their own cars.

 

Getting a drunk Dean up the stairs while he tried to snap at an excitedly barking Rumsfeld was a monumental task. Bobby ended up helping and the man collapsed on the floral sheets of my bed. He mumbled something about granny print but settled in once I wrapped him up in yet another floral printed blanket.

I brushed my hand through his hair, whispering a quick “goodnight”.

“Stomach cramping yet?” Bobby asked when I headed down the stairs.

“Yeah.” I tried to ignore the dull pressure. “Worth it though.” I gave a thumbs up. “Would ten out of ten do it again.”

“Coffee?” He offered.

“Nah I’m good. I do wanna see if I can get some sleep tonight.” Bobby didn’t press why it sounded like I hadn’t gotten enough sleep for a while. He shrugged instead. “Where’s Sam and Jessica?”

“They’re going to their apartment.” He nodded towards the window where Sam and Jessica were kissing by the Camaro.

“They’re taking that car?”

Bobby shrugged. “Not like I have another use for it. They insisted on paying for it and I’m not gonna say no to a little extra cash.”

I hummed. “You need anything Bobby?” Rumsfeld barked and I looked down at him. “You want more kibble?”

He barked again and I ended up giving him another bowl.

“He’s gonna get fat.” Bobby said.

“It’s alright. He’s a growing boy.” I scratched under his ears and he gave a throaty rumble. “Goo’boy, Rumsfeld.” I cooed and he licked my hand once before burying his nose in his bowl.

I walked over to sit across from him on the sofa. He was poring over some lore book he’d picked up from a trip to Utah. “Sam and Jessica are leaving tomorrow for her parents’ right?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotta break the news to everyone.” I sank into the worn out sofa. Rumsfeld showed up a minute later, curling into my side. “He’s such a good boy.” I mumbled.

“Better than you idjits ever will be.” He yawned and took another sip of his coffee. “Oh. Almost forgot.” He stood up and motioned for me to go with him. Rumsfeld gave a sleepy whine but his nails clicked behind me regardless. He led us to the giant garage and pulled the covers off of a small shape. “Good as new.” He patted the black front. “Replaced the windshields. Fixed the axle lengths. And the-”

“Bobby.” I deadpanned. “I don’t understand cars.”

“This ain’t a car.” He said, offended. “It’s a bike!”

“So? It’s all mechanics stuff I don’t understand.”

“You married a car nerd.”

“If Dean hears you calling him a nerd he’s gonna flip out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good thing he’s passed out drunk upstairs.” When neither of us moved, his face fell a little bit. “Were ya expecting something better?”

“No! No. I mean this is amazing. She looks as good as new.” I put on a smile.

“Ya don’t look happy.”

“I am. Bobby. I am.”

“No you’re not.” He stepped forward knowingly. “Something’s wrong with you kid. Now- I don’t know if it was Hell—” I flinched at the word. “Or if that last case rattled you and the others a little too much. It’s probably both. But I need you to know.” He placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m here for you kid.”

I let my head rest against his chest. It felt like my Dad’s hugs when my mom convinced us to hug for a picture on the rare occasion. I should have hugged my dad more. Told him how much I loved him. Now they didn’t even have a body to bury as their daughter.

“Let it all out, kid.” Bobby whispered. I hadn’t even realised I was crying.

“Oh Bobby.” I sniffled. “It was so scary.” A very unlady-like hiccup escaped. “It was painful. So so painful. I can’t—” Two gentle pats on my back. I kept going. “I can’t even describe to you how much it hurt. They-they did- they did all those horrible- horrible things to me— I wanted to die Bobby. But they wouldn’t let me—” I choked and doubled over. Bobby’s hands were steady as he crouched down to my level and just rubbed my back. It felt comforting. It felt soothing. And now that I was talking I couldn’t stop. “It was like Christopher all over again.” I whispered. All those nightmares I’d been trying to avoid came rushing back. “They did so, so many things to me— I mean- so bad that I haven’t even let Dean touch me like that—” Just the thought of it made my stomach churn. “It was so painful Bobby I can’t even tell you how much it hurt—” I lowered my head and threw up in the garage. Bobby didn’t miss a beat and pulled back my hair, rubbing my back in soothing motions. My eyes burned from the smell and the smell itself made me wanna throw up more. I dry heaved onto the painted concrete of the garage. I hadn’t meant to. Bobby loved this place. And so did Dean. They could spend hours in here, and on the rare occasion John would join them and Sammy would read a book under some shade- and now I’d ruined it. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Bobby said gently. He helped me back on my shaky feet and started leading me away to the living room. Rumsfeld whined as he followed us nudging at my calves to keep me upright and walking. That sweet little dog.

I ended up on the window seat they’d never dared to change and curled into a ball. Rumsfeld fell asleep at Bobby’s feet and Bobby himself started snoring with his head in his lore book. Sam was off with Jessica at her apartment. John was god knows where. Dean was snoring upstairs, happily out of his mind and completely unaware his wife was sick downstairs. Wasn’t that what I had wanted? For him to live out his life in bliss? For everyone here to carry out their lives in peace? I shuddered and buried my snotty nose in the edge of the blanket. For the millionth time since Hell I felt alone. I was well and truly alone.

 

“She was cryin’ quite a bit last night.”

“I can stay back if needed.”

“No Sam, you go with her.”

“Yeah. Her parents will want to see who she’s settling with.”

“But if she’s—”

“This isn’t something we can fix overnight. It’s gonna take time and effort.”

“Yeah. I’ll be with her, Sammy. Don’t worry—”

“Don’t worry?! You were blackout drunk last night–”

“Can’t a man celebrate for once in his life? You’re getting married , Sam! Of course I was going to drink on that occasion! Besides, like you can say anything. You were out with Jess the whole night! You weren’t even here!”

“At least I’m not fucking hungover right now–”

“Boys. Stop. You two could argue about this for days, but it’s not gonna help. Sam, go with Jess. Dean, take care of her for a day. She’ll like it. Just relax and watch TV all day or somethin’. Keep her happy. I’ve got to help this newbie on a hunt.”

“But-”

“No buts! Off you go now.”

The door was slammed shut. I winced when I tried to open my eyes against the sunlight.

“You leavin’ too Bobby?”

“Yeah. It's about a five hour drive from here, and that’s assumin’ I break all traffic laws from the East Coast to the West Coast. Come on, boy.”

The door clicked shut, the stomping of boots and an excited bark faded into the background, and I finally opened my eyes.

Rumsfeld barked and placed his head on my lap, expecting scratches and pets. I ran my hands through his dark fur and he whined at the touch.

“Hey,” I tilted my head back to see Dean leaning against the sofa with his arms crossed and looking guilty. And hot. “You, uh, feelin’ okay?”

I hummed and pulled the covers over my head to hide the pink that was threatening to spread through my cheeks. They were yanked down and Dean stood over me with a lopsided grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

I pouted but let him pick me up with my legs around his waist. “Bobby told us to relax?”

“You heard all o’ that?” His fingers flexed beneath my thighs as he adjusted his grip.

“Yeah.” I leaned on his shoulder and breathed in the scent of my cocoa butter soap. I blinked and sniffed him again. “You used my soap?”

He shrugged. “It feels nice.” Acceptable answer. I did always use hypoallergenic products meant for sensitive skin. I melted against him again, letting him kiss the sides of my head. “What do you wanna do?” He asked after a moment.

I squirmed in his hold and he released me on my feet. “Dunno.” I looked around the house like that would tell me what I wanted to do. Truthfully, I didn’t wanna do anything.

“You wanna talk?”

I raised my head as he walked us over to the sofa. He sat down with my knees caging his hips. His large and rugged but pretty hands remained steady on my hips, absently stroking circles through the thin fabric of the shirt I’d fallen asleep in last night. Did I want to talk? I played with the threads of his worn out shirt. The buttons sat firmly till the sternum of his chest. I let my hand drift off slightly to the right, and his heart beat steady under my palms.

“Why were you crying last night?” He asked gently.

I looked up at him and bit the inside of my cheeks. Did I want to tell him? “Nothing really.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if your eyes are still red.” His thumb brushed over my cheek. Rough and calloused. But the gentlest ones I’d ever felt. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He whispered. And the nickname broke something in me.

I sniffled against my will and reached for my nose, as if that would stop me from crying. “It’s nothing, Dean.”

“It’s not–”

“I said! It’s nothing!” I yelled. He looked like I’d slapped him. No, no. I hadn't meant to yell. What if he got up and left? What if he decided that I was just another thing he had to look after and left me alone? I hadn’t done anything useful as of late. All the major events were still happening. Everything was still happening. He was going to leave me. And I would be even lonelier than I already was. Or maybe I always was alone. Maybe he just put up with me because it was easier to kiss and shut me up than tell me to leave. I felt like a burden. But that didn’t mean I wanted to be left alone. “I’m- I’m sorry– I didn’t– Don’t leave–” I hated how my voice broke at the end. “Don’t leave me, please…!”

His fingers tangled in my hair as he tilted my head back for a dizzying kiss. I felt the warmth of his body flush against mine and the way he cradled the back of my head with all the gentleness in the world. “I’m not leaving.” He said against my lips. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” I gasped for breath, but it was hard to when it kept escaping in the form of weak pathetic whimpers. “I got you,” He kissed me again, as if he could swallow the pain in my heart. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“You-you don’t h-hate me?” I hiccuped.

“No.” He sat straighter. “No, no. Hey-hey, here, look at me.” His finger hooked under my chin and tilted my head up to meet his pleading gaze. “I love you, sweetheart. Ain’t nothing gonna change that.” He kissed my cheek. “You could do nothing all day and I’d still love you.”

My teeth clamped down on the inside of my cheeks again when his lips made contact with the soft spot by my ear. “Then-then make love to me.” I couldn’t even believe what I was saying. His whole body stilled when I said it and his head shot up at the demand. “Love me, Dean.” I begged. And then I rolled my hips against his. Fuck. I wasn't used to this desire to feel his skin against mine. “P-please–”

It was the best feeling when his fingers finally ghosted up my sides. “You sure?” He murmured.

Always asking for permission. That was my Dean. Sweet, kind, and always willing to give out kindness. All he did was give, and it felt like all I did was take advantage of his niceness. I trailed my thumb down his cheeks, the freckles looking infinitely more adorable than I’d remembered them before Hell. His lips were full, and beautiful, and pink. More importantly, they were soothing with gentle ‘shh’s.

I was definitely crying again because his thumbs were trailing down my face too, swiping at the salty wetness. And his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes . So gentle. They were brimming with tears too, and they trembled more every time I involuntarily whimpered. If anything, the gentleness he looked at me with just made my chest and throat ache more and more. Because I didn’t deserve any of the kindness he gave. Had I even done anything good since I got here? Jessica could have been saved if Sam and Dean just drove faster. John wouldn’t have died if someone had known how to administer first aid and CPR. Pointless. Anyone could have done those. It didn’t have to be me.

I knew that. And yet– I wanted his love. I wanted to feel something other than the emptiness in my chest.

I nodded my head, because if I even tried to open my mouth I knew that I would end up sounding like a needy useless woman.

“Okay.” He dropped his forehead to meet mine. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

 

I woke up alone.

Of course I did. That blissful sex must have been a dream. Or maybe imagining Dean’s touch had been a coping mechanism for my brain. I held back a shudder and peeled back the covers of my bed. My bed… I was in my room. I sat up straight. I looked over the posters on the wall, the crochet projects sitting on packed bookshelves, and the stuffed animals peeking over the top bunk. The purple rug I’d picked out was under my feet and my devices were charging on the small table by the window. And of course, I was in an old oversized T shirt I’d stolen from Sam several years ago, with Dean’s old boxers hanging low on my hips.

Was this another hallucination? It felt too good to be true. The past three months had felt like a dream. A beautiful dream the demons were making me live through only to take it away from me the second I relaxed. Except it wasn’t. I wasn’t in Hell. I told myself that everyday and yet a part of me told me I could never escape my time down there. Still… that smexy dream was a nice dream.

I swung my legs off the bed – the pain in my back felt too real so the blissful passionate sex was not a dream – and took a trek to the bathroom. Rock music was playing faintly downstairs and I could smell pancakes and overcooked burgers on the stove. Was Dean cooking?

I looked at the mirror and cringed at the sight. My eyes were red and my cheeks felt flushed and raw from where the salt water had dried it out and I’d wiped it roughly with the back of my hands. A tiny dot on the corner of my nose was celebrating the new pimple it was gonna become and I just knew from the sight and site alone it was gonna be painful. I lifted my neck to see if any others had formed on my chin, but the only things that greeted me were fresh red marks down my neck. Oh, damn. Now my cheeks were flushed from the blush. Dean really hadn’t held back, had he? Surely I had enough concealer for the more prominent ones…?

“I know you’re up!” Dean yelled from below the stairs. “Come on down when you’re ready!”

Right. I wasn’t all alone.

 

“Dude.” Dean’s eyes raked me up and down. “You look like you got hit by a truck.”

“Thanks, you too.” I blinked in surprise when I realised what he was wearing. “Is that my apron?” The one he had cheekily gifted me on Christmas? “Looks nice.”

He looked down at himself. “It’ll look nicer if I were naked under it.”

I playfully frowned. “No.”

He smirked. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.” He slid over a plate of pancakes in my direction. “That’s the Dean Special.” He said smugly. The pancakes were misshapen. “Don’t worry about the shape.” He very manly threw down a towel on the table and sat across from me with his chin on his interlaced fingers. “I guarantee its taste. Only the best for my woman.” His muscles and shoulders looked absolutely breathtaking from where I was sitting. The sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window was only making his eyes somehow brighter and greener. He looked like a Greek marble statue at a museum. Except he was moving, breathing, and living. And looking. At me .

I ripped at the pancake with my hands, before realising Dean had placed a fork on the side. Oops. I glanced up discreetly but he seemed too preoccupied with the piece in my hand traveling up to my mouth. He looked like a puppy waiting to be complimented on his fetch skills. Adorable. I swallowed the dry pancake. “It’s good.” It wasn’t bad at all. A little too sugary for my taste but I could tell he’d tried to tone it down for my sake.

“You forgot the honey.”

Right. I was too distracted by him to realise. “Yeah. Um.” Where was the damn honey?

He reached over the table. “Here.” He squirted a giant blob onto the middle and the golden bee vomit spilled over the edges of the poorly shaped pancake.

I took another bite and nodded again. “Still good.”

He lit up like a Christmas Tree. “Awesome.” And he only settled down with his own food then. He’d been waiting for me, I realised.

Before he got back and noticed, I managed to get rid of the tear pricking at the corner of my eye.

“Wanna go somewhere after this?” He asked as he sat down. “With your bike. I mean. You can drive, even. I could be passenger king on his royal throne.”

“Sure buddy.” I rolled my eyes with the first smile that felt real.

 

“Dude.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I took off my helmet. My Kawasaki tilted to one side as I got one foot on the ground. “We drive till the sun is almost out, all so we could see a lake?”

Dean shrugged and started making his way down the leafy muddy bank, pausing slightly every time his shoes skidded. “Don’t lie. You like this place.”

“Uhuh. That's cause we came here after dropping Sammy off at his twelfth grade homecoming. You got drunk and I murdered a fish colony with a fifteen pound rock.” I kicked down the kickstand and let the helmet hang off the handles. Slowly, and slipperily, I managed to make it down next to Dean, who was staring out at the sun dipping below the horizon.

“You remember that?” Dean asked, amused.

I scoffed. “I don’t forget everything.”

“You forgot where the fridge was.

I threw my hands dramatically. “It was a new motel room! Of course I forgot where it was! And wasn’t it in the bathroom?”

“Under the TV.”

“Yeah. Who puts a fridge there?”

“Psychopaths.”

“So you agree.”

“Never said it wasn’t a bad spot for a fridge.” He walked closer to the water’s edge and sat down on a giant rock.

The granite was wet when I sat down but Dean’s body radiated warmth. He leaned down to pick up a flat rock and reeled his arm back. When he released the rock, it skipped five times over the water before plopping to the depths of the lake. “Hah!” he cheered. “Try beating that.”

“Oh you bet.” I picked one of my own and threw it the best I could. The damn thing only skipped twice before sinking. “Stupid thing.”

“Blaming the rock, sweetheart? That’s the most loser move I’ve seen–” He gasped involuntarily when I kicked up the water against his jeans. I grinned at his stunned face, before remembering he was as competitive as an older sibling could get. I would know. “This is war.” He smirked, and it was my turn to be drenched. Oops. I’d started a water fight.

I would have complained about muddy water soaking into my jeans and my shirt. But it felt nice. It felt normal . These were things couples normally did, right? Not hunting, not thinking about the next case, not worrying about which day would be their last? As I squealed with laughter when cold hands dipped under my shirt, I could confidently look up at the incoming stars and say I was happy. And not entirely alone.

 

That happiness lasted all of four days.

 

It had been a small hunt. Simple salt and burn. Dean and I had flopped into bed, exhausted out of our minds, but still enough energy to go at it again. And damn. It had been good. As it always had been with Dean. The motel room had been cold, but Dean had been warm. We'd somehow managed to get into our pajamas before whispering our ‘good night’s and falling back asleep.

I woke up covered in cold sweat again. Not very new. My heart was racing and my head was spinning. Again. Nothing very new. I was fine.

I felt warm puffs of air against my forehead and squinted in the dark. The moonlight was barely filtering through the curtains enough, but I could recognise the silhouette thrown over my body any day.

Dean. Always there. I glanced over to my digital clock which glowed a neon ‘3:03’ AM. huh. Not surprising at all. I had to pee. My bladder protested when Dean’s hand tightened around my middle.

“Dean.” I pushed at his arm with a whisper.

He groaned but let go, rolling onto his back. I sat up straight and crawled over his long legs and padded into the bathroom.

As I finished up my business, I could hear the phone ringing and Dean sleepily picking it up. I smacked my wet hands against my night dress and headed back for the bed.

Dean was sitting up, his face pale even in the dark and his hand was clenching his phone. “What do you mean, Ellen?” Ellen spoke more on the other side. “Come on, Ellen, please.” “Something bad could be going on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid.” Dammit. 

‘Sam?’ I mouthed.

I sat next to Dean who spared me a glance and a nod before going back to the phone. “Lafayette, Indiana.” He grabbed a piece of paper and scrawled the words onto it. “Thanks, Ellen.”

“That damn kid!” Dean yelled as we pulled out of the motel. “He never asks me for help.”

He really didn’t. “I’m sure he’s okay Dean. He's a smart kid.”

“A smart kid, yeah.” He laughed to himself. “When it comes to pre law and shit.” He hit harder on the accelerator. “He just never knows to ask for help.”

“Doesn’t that make three of us?” I said quietly, and his jaw hardened. “So what’s he gotten himself into?” He still hadn’t told me the details.

“Apparently he’d called Ash an hour ago asking about more psychics like him.” He sighed. “Ellen thought it was fishy, so she called.”

“Anything else?”

My stomach dropped with what he said next. “Jess got kidnapped.”

 

Last time one of us had gotten kidnapped, I’d died. I didn’t wanna think of Jessica dying. Had I saved her from a demon just for her to die a more miserable death at the hands of a human? Because it couldn’t be Azazel pulling the strings. The deal was still valid as far as I was aware. I shot Bobby a text letting him know Dean and I were gonna be working Jessica’s case.

The Impala continued speeding down the highway and I closed my eyes. Even a semi-normal life was out of the question.

 

“Dean– Sharon–!” Sam cried when we knocked on his motel door. He pulled the two of us into a hug and clung on for a good minute.

“Alright, little brother.” Dean said, patting his arm. “Why didn’t you call us?”

The youngest Winchester paced in the room. “I thought I could find her by myself.”

It was then that I noticed another young woman in the room. Dean did too. “Is she why?” Dean’s voice was menacingly quiet.

“No, no.” Sam shook his head. “It’s not what you think–”

“Right… There's… a strange woman in your room. And even though your fiancee got kidnapped, you made no move to call your own family ?”

Sam shook his head again. “Look, I’m telling you–”

“It’s really not like that.” the young woman spoke up. Her hands were trembling and her eyes darted from me to Dean. “My name’s Ava Wilson– I’m getting married in literally eight weeks– I have so many wedding invitations to finish writing and posting– but I drove here to save your brother!”

Okay, uh. “Why? From what?” I asked.

She looked nervously at Sam who nodded. “It’s okay, you can tell them.”

She took a deep breath. “I saw him die. Okay?”

“Like visions?” Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, like-like visions. Like the ones Sam sees– or claims to see. I don’t know!” She wrung her hands nervously. “Oh– and I just helped him steal some dead guy's confidential psych files. I'm totally sleeping with this dude while his fiancee is missing!”

“How did you even end up here, Sam?” I asked the man who was now holding his head in his hands.

He let out a long breath. “We were driving back to Bobby’s. Jess was tired, and so was I. We stopped at this motel– and then Jess said she wanted to grab a drink. She-she asked me if I wanted something and I said yeah, so she said she was going to the vending machine– and then she never came back– So I got worried and I went out to check. And she was just– gone .”

“And you tell me about what you saw in your vision.”

“He was shot.” Ava responded.

Dean strutted into the room. He pointed to the sheets and in an effort to lighten the mood he asked, “These sheets clean from your, uh, activities?”

Despite the situation, Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“Ok so Jess has been kidnapped by Gordon ? Like Gordy Gordon? Like the nutcase back from that vampire case?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. He called to say he had Jess.”

“Why?”

“Dude– I don’t know! Okay? He shot at me with a .223 with a suppressor on his rifle!” He turned to Ava. “You should go.”

“I don't think I should leave.”

“I want you out of harm's way, Ava.” He snapped. “How do you think it feels to lose someone close to you? You should go back to your fiance and continue with the wedding.”

“Then what about you?”

“Harm's way doesn't really bother me.”

“It should.” Dean cut in. “Ava, you should leave. The three of us got this.”

“No, no way! But you are walking right into my vision. I mean, this is how Sam dies!”

“And he’s my brother, I’ll save him!”

“I don’t need to be saved! Jess does!”

“We’ll save them both.” I finally said. “We’ll save both of them.”

If Ava was the other psychic that could see the future like Sam, then she was going to be one of the ‘soldiers’ that went dark side. I didn’t really have a fix for that. It really just came down to whether her husband died or something. But then again, I didn’t know how to fix that. Maybe she was always meant to be dark side.

The Star Wars flashbacks were real.

Ava opened her mouth back to protest. I pulled her to the side and gently spoke to her. “You’ve already done enough. Just go back home to your fiance. I’m sure he’s worried.”

“But–”

“Trust me. You don’t wanna do that to him.” I nodded at Dean and Sam who were now digging through any clues they could think of. “It tends to break those guys. I’m sure he’s been calling you too.” She hesitantly looked at her phone that was filled with missed calls. “Go ahead. We got this.”

She gave the tiniest nod and crept out the door clutching her purse to her chest. Dean sighed. “Now that that’s done with…” He turned back to his brother. “Let’s start looking.”

 

The leaves barely rustled as I walked as quietly as I could. The trees and other overhead foliage provided quite a bit of cover. It felt… easy. Even the clues had been easy to follow.

“Here?” I looked at the abandoned cabin. “Seems too easy.”

“Yeah.” Dean gripped his gun tighter.

Sam’s jaw was set. “This-this is the third time this has happened to her in the past two years.”

“Gettin’ cold feet?” Dean tried to tease.

Sam shook his head. “Dean– I can’t be the reason something happens to her.”

“Well.” I heard him say as I crept on ahead. “You just gotta get her back and try harder.”

Sam sighed. “I know, Dean. I know.”

I peeked through the cracks in the boarded up window. Jessica was staring down Gordon even from her seated position on the chair. Her hands were tied behind her back and her feet tied to the legs of the chair, and a piece of cloth dug through her pale smooth cheeks. Blood trickled down her forehead, but she had her chin up. And Gordon sat straddling a chair in a corner. I motioned for the boys behind me to remain quiet. “He’s here.” I mouthed.

“It’s definitely a trap.” Sam mouthed back.

“Back door.” Dean tilted his head towards the back of the cabin. I closed my eyes and willed away the first notes of a song threatening to ruin my concentration. Thanks, Dean.

 

Dean gave Sam a nod and pulled me back. Sam turned the doorknob. He picked up a giant branch and poked the tripwire. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered the top of my head in preparation.The back door exploded. Jessica screamed beyond her gag, and Gordon’s laugh echoed. Once the smoke cleared, Dean tossed in a molotov which exploded immediately upon contact. Something else exploded after that one too, and the three of us looked at each other. Jessica’s sobs were much louder now and we could hear Gordon starting to walk to the back.

“I’m going in.” Sam said to us. He covered his mouth with his sleeve and rushed in before Dean or I could insist on heading inside first.

“The damn kid.” Dean grunted and went after his brother.

Jessica. I had a different priority. Gordon probably wouldn’t hurt her. But she was definitely terrified. I made my way to the boarded up window and peered through the crack. Gordon was no longer in the room with Jessica. I could hear angry yells and smacks and thumps coming from the other room. Probably fighting Dean and Sam then. Great. I smashed at the window and the rotting wood went collapsing with a little bit of force.

Jessica’s blue eyes grew wide at the sound, but they soon filled with tears of relief when she spotted me trying to climb in. “Jessica.” I whispered. She whimpered and let her head fall back in relief. Her curls were flat against her wet cheeks and she looked so worn out. Poor thing. “You okay?” I said lamely.

She nodded weakly. The second I released her from the gag she asked me with a broken voice. “Is what he said true?”

“What’d he say?” I already knew what he’d said though.

And even if I didn’t, Gordon was yelling it out pretty clearly to Dean in the next room. “You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your family, they think you're some kind of saint. And neither would you, Dean. Because both your girls are in the next room.” Son of a– He knew I was here. I scanned the room for explosives, tripwires, anything– But nothing. Gordon wasn’t going to kill a human unless absolutely necessary.

“We gotta get out of here.” I whispered to Jessica. She nodded as I continued working on her bonds.

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure.” Dean said for his brother.

“He’s no better than the filthy things you hunt.” Gordon snarled.

“Do it. Do it! Show your brother the killer you really are, Sammy!”

A loud thud, and then an indignant, “It’s Sam.”

 

“Jess!” Sam gasped when he spotted her walking while leaning on my shoulder.

Her bottom lip quivered just a smidge before she leaned on him instead.

I headed for Dean who was staring down at the man on the ground.

“I should kill him.” He growled.

“Dean.” I placed a hand on his arm. “We can’t just kill him.”

“He tried to kill Sammy.”

“Yeah. and he’ll pay for it. But Dean, us killing him will make us no better than him.”

“The things he said–”

“Sam’s not a killer.” Jessica said finally. “Whatever he said, has to be a lie.”

Sam nodded jerkily. “Yeah, Dean, we should go.”

“But he–”

“Trust me. Gordon’s been dealt with.”

I tapped my foot against the man’s cheek and he didn’t even budge. He was out cold. “Sam, you take Jessica back to the motel. Dean and I can clean up here.” Sam looked at us skeptically. I smiled. “Come on Sam. You don’t trust your sister?” He opened his mouth but closed it as he had nothing to say. “That’s what I thought. Now, Sam. Look, I promise you. This guy is gonna get what he deserves for attempted murder.”

“Uhuh…” he muttered but started walking away with Jessica still holding onto him for balance. “Be back soon.” He glanced at Gordon. “And I don’t want you two behind bars.”

 

“Didn’t realise you were gonna call the police on him.” Dean said, sitting next to me on Baby’s hood.

“Anonymous tip for illegal bomb making.” I laughed. I tipped back the bottle of soda, and Dean snorted. “What?”

“You look like you’re getting drunk.”

“Is that so wrong?” I rolled my eyes. “Let a girl enjoy her drink in peace.”

“Sure, sweetheart.” He winked.

I glanced at my phone and then back at the motel whose parking lot we were chilling in. “Ava hasn’t called back.” Was I not going to be able to stop this plot point?

“She’s probably still driving or fucking her boyfriend right now.” Dean took a sip of his beer. “We should go to Amsterdam.”

I squinted at him. “Why Amsterdam?”

“I hear the coffee shops don't even serve coffee.”

“That’s just depresso.”

“Sam wants to keep hunting.”

“I can tell.”

“So does Jess.”

“Yeah. Girl's stubborn.”

“They’re gonna end up like us.”

I looked down to where our arms were just close to brushing each other. “We’re fine.”

“I mean–” He sighed. “Look at us, Sharon. We don’t have a house, we don’t have jobs. We don’t come home after a 9 to 5 waiting to share a bed for the night.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “We didn’t even have proper guests at our wedding. And–” a flash of longing crossed his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “And I just– I don’t know.”

A family. A home. Dean wanted all of those. And so did I. But we were in no position for something like that. I ran a hand through the tangles in my ponytail. “Lemme call Ava again.”

“What? You gonna ditch me and become a lesbian?”

I hit his ankle with my boot and he grinned. “I’m just worried.” The phone rang for a minute, but no one picked up. Dammit. “Can we go to her house?”

“Oh a foursome?”

“Dean!” I slapped his shoulder this time.

He laughed and got off of Baby’s hood. “Go get Sam and Jess. We can drive with them part of the way.”

 

“Dude. literally all the other psychic kids got back to either me or Sam or even both.” I said as I put the phone down.

“Except for Ava?”

“Except for Ava.”

“Did she get back to Sam?”

“Nope.” I leaned back against the seat. My phone dinged with a message. “Sam said he’s gonna drop off Jess and meet us as soon as he can. He also sent the exact address of her place.”

“Should I drive slower?”

“No.” I started typing out a reply, telling Sam to not bother. “I wanna get there as soon as we can.” The Impala pulled a little faster. “I really hope I’m wrong about this.”

 

I was not, in fact, wrong about it to my dismay. Ava’s house had been broken into. Glass lay shattered everywhere, and there were bootstains and bloodstains smeared across every inch of available floor. Her fiancee lay dead on the floor.

Shit.

Shit. Shit.

Shit .

“Son of a bitch…” Dean said as he knelt on the bedroom floor. He picked up a small band that looked like the ring settled on Ava’s ring finger. “This is her engagement ring.”

I brushed my hand over the dust on the window sill. I raised up my finger and smelled it. Dean had to grab my elbow to steady me as he looked at me worriedly. “Sulfur.” I whispered. And that was all he needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

 

Third Person P.O.V.

The young woman and young man were still walking around the house. The woman that was never meant to have left this world. The woman and the man that were never supposed to be together. But they had made it happen anyway.

They kept watching. They could smell the sulfur from where they were perched in the cover of a tree across the street. Demons. They were too late. They unfurled their wings. And by the time they blinked, they were in a new place again. Across the street of an apartment where a cursed child was staring anxiously at one of their funny little devices. Next to him lay an exhausted woman that was never supposed to live. This man and this woman were never meant to last this long together either.

The world had gone to disarray, just because of a split second decision they had made in an attempt to fix the world. But everything was wrong. Nothing was going as their Father had planned. So why were they trying so hard to keep it all wrong?

Notes:

WHO ELSE WATCHED KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. These bunch of kids are shipping me with my coworkers and it's terrifying me. I'm literally being forced to gossip with them over lunch and every time I find peace and quiet, the damn kids drag me to wherever they are so we can yap. It's kinda cute. but pls I want peace. they're all so chill tho, i like them. and unlike the other groups of kids they're not setting everything on fire so yay? it's alr, i set things on fire instead of them- IT DOESN'T HELP THAT MY NEW BOSS IS A FRIEND OF MY MOM'S. It's so awkward because I taught her kid and a bunch of other kids so she thinks I'm good with kids, so every time there's something involving the kids we're working with she sends them my way, like pls I DON'T WANT TO PLAY MASH WHERE MY ONLY OPTIONS OF DATING ARE MY COWORKERS. I WANT DEAN IN THERE.
Anyway yeah, living on my own sucks.

Chapter 38: Playthings

Summary:

"“Shut up!” he snarled. “Shut up, okay?!” He was breathing heavily now. “What have you done? You knew he was going to die! You knew Ava was going to die! You’ve seen it all happen! So why aren’t you fixing anything?!” My heart hammered in my chest when Sam’s large frame took a step forward. But I couldn’t show fear. Couldn’t show him that I was intimidated by his drunken tantrum.
“Sam.” Dean’s voice was cold. “Get off of her.”
“I’m not–”
“You’re scaring her.”
“She’s not scared of me. She’s scared of what she can’t do.”
Yeah man. It was almost like I was human or something with the memory capacity of a human. If I really could have saved all those people then wouldn’t I have done so, already? Sarcasm in the face of fear was a bitch."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Threats. (potentially domestic abuse)
2. Idk what else other than bad writing.
I'm trying guys. I keep forgetting what I wrote about.

I dropped my head on the table as I hung up on the telephone. It had been a whole month with no news from the young woman.

“Find anything?” Dean asked, looking up from stolen police reports on the bed.

“Nope.” My voice came muffled from the wood. “Ellen and Ash got nothing.”

“Nothing in the police reports either.” Dean threw down the stacks on the floor and stretched. “This sucks.”

“Yeah.” At least the other kids were doing fine. Max and Andy were faring pretty well on the road once I’d taught them how to commit credit card fraud and forge fake IDs. “Sam got anything?”

“Nope.” Dean walked over to half sit on the armrest of my chair. “He’s checked every possible database, but it’s like this girl just vanished into thin air.”

I had a vague idea of where she was, but I didn’t wanna think about it.

“Oh, Ellen’s calling.” Dean said as he picked up.

I forced myself off the chair and patted his shoulder. “I’ll get us coffee.”

As I finished pouring us both two full cups, Dean called from the table he was now spreading a map over. “A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut, two freak accidents in the past three weeks.”

“Ava?”

“It's a job. A lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago a guy fell down the stairs, head turned a complete one-eighty. Which isn't exactly normal.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sam wants to look into this too. Thinks it might be something.”

“We haven’t found Ava.”

Dean shrugged. “Nothing we got on this chick.” He accepted the cup I passed to him. “Might as well keep working cases.” He gave a lopsided smile. “Make the world a better place.”

I nodded and looked down at the floor where the cold from the carpet was seeping in through my socks. “I guess.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” Dean said gently. He bent down just enough to brush our foreheads together. “It’ll be fine.” His hands wrapped around mine on the coffee cup. “Nothing bad is gonna happen.” He promised. “None of us will let anything happen.”

I closed my eyes and let him hold me together for just another moment.

A couple of deep breaths later, I pulled back and looked up at him. “Alright. Let’s go.”

 

“You brought her along!” I laughed as I exited Baby.

Sam was leaning against my darling bike with the helmet dangling from his fingertips. Her body was warm from the sun and she smelled like a half eaten packet of chips. I lifted the seat up and spotted the culprit. A half filled bag of doritos sat in the compartment and Sam winced when I raised an eyebrow in his direction. “I didn’t get any in the crevices.”

“Did you have to bring that along?” Dean groaned playfully. “Now I have to sit next to you .”

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam snorted. He straightened up and looked at the giant fancy Victorian palace styled inn in front of us. This place smelled like a certain episode.

Dean smirked and pocketed Baby’s keys. “I’ll go check us in.”

Once Dean disappeared up the steps, I looked at the taller Winchester. “Hey, Sam.”

“Hm?” He looked down, half paying attention to me and the other half scanning the place for any clues.

“Are we really not gonna look for Ava?”

“Look. I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now her fiancé's dead and some demon has taken her off to God knows where. You know? But we've been looking for a month now, and we've got nothing.” He smiled gently at me. “So I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not going to let other people die either. We've got to save as many people as we can.”

That’s what Dean had said too. Maybe the brothers were right. But as someone who knew things were going to play out, but not the nitty gritty details, I felt guilty. I pressed the heels of my palm into my eyes. “You’re right.” I blinked as my vision readjusted. “No need for innocent people to die.” Ava was probably long gone from her sanity anyway.

 

Dean was waiting for us in front of the check in desk where ‘Be right back!’ was written in polite loopy cursive. He was leaning against it with one arm and his shirt strained just right for me to see the tightness of his biceps. Hot diggity damn. He gave a low whistle when I came to stand next to him. “You know your fly is open?”

Wait what– I looked down and wanted the grounds to swallow me whole.  “And neither of you told me until now?!”

“I-i- um–” Sam stammered.

“I was enjoying the view.” Dean said cockily.

“I-i wasn’t looking… down there…”

I fixed the damn ugly zipper on my denim skirt. “I swear I’ll kill you both–”

“What did I do?!” Sam protested.

Dean simply snickered when I forced my boot into his shin. “Feels like a feather– oh fuck .” He hissed when I firmly stomped on his toes.

“Language!” I slapped his arm and looked around at the Victorian style decor. “This place is kinda nice.” And haunted.

“Yeah.” Sam walked over to some of the plants sitting just outside the designer iron gate that had led us into the inn. I followed after him to the porch

“This is sweet.” Dean’s voice echoed as he spoke from the desk still. “I never get to work jobs like this.”

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Old school haunted houses, you know? Fog, and secret passageways, sissy British accents. Might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside.”

“Like Scooby Doo?” I asked.

“Like Scooby Doo.” he sighed. “Mm. Daphne. Love her.” Oh he had no idea what was lying for him a decade from now.

It was then that Sam and I chanced upon an urn in the corner of the porch. “I'm not so sure haunted's the problem.” Sam said.

“What do you mean?” Dean walked over to kneel beside us.

“You see this pattern here?” His finger hovered over the diagram on the urn. “That's a quincunx, that's a five-spot.”

“Five spot.” Dean repeated.

“Yeah.”

“That's used for hoodoo spellwork, isn't it?”

“Yep.” I tried to remember the rest of the details. “With enough bloodweed you could have a spell to ward off enemies.”

“Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too, uh,” His eyes flickered to mine. “whitemeat for hoodoo?” Like I was gonna label him racist for that. I was plenty racist myself.

“Maybe.” Sam muttered.

“I WIN!” came the squeal of a child as a small figure knocked me off the balls of my feet.

“Whoah!” I went tumbling into Sam and Dean hopped out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by the human domino sequence.

“Ow!” Sam pouted as he nursed his elbow where it had hit the ground.

“Sorry!” said the little child now using my knees to balance herself up.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” a woman came running behind us, hauling off the young girl that had tumbled into me.

“Oh, no worries. No harm done.” I waved off her worries.

“You guys okay?” Dean offered us both a hand and we pulled ourselves up, dusting our hands on our jeans.

“Are you guys here for a room?” the woman asked as she ushered the young girl inside. The little girl gave us a small sorry before running off.

“Yeah. For a couple of nights.” Dean responded.

The woman smiled and led us inside. “Well, congratulations, you could be some of our final guests.”

“Well. Sounds vaguely ominous.” Dean tapped a finger on the receptionist’s desk.

The woman gave a small laugh. “No, I'm sorry, I mean we're closing at the end of the month.” She put down her stuff and started doing things behind the counter. I peeked over the counter that was unusually high and saw her writing in a diary of sorts. Huh. This place still ran on pen and paper. “Well, let me guess. You guys are here antiquing?”

Dean, Sam, and I exchanged a ‘why not?’ look. Dean gave his winning smile. “How'd you know?”

“Oh, you just look the type.”

Dean frowned. Ooh. Ooh. She was now gonna imply that Sam and Dean were gay, right? But I was there. So what assumption was she gonna make now? The last time someone had thought Dean and Sam were gay, Jessica and I had been with them so they’d assumed we were in a polyamorous relationship.

“So, uh, a California king bed?”

It was getting harder and harder to hold myself back from laughing.

“What? No, no.” Sam vehemently shook his head. “He and I are just brothers. Those two are married.”

“We’d like two queens.” I finally managed to say.

“Oh. oh. Um, I’m sorry.” the woman blushed as she continued doing her thing behind the desk.

Dean shifted uncomfortably next to me. “What'd you mean that we look the type?”

Had this hurt his masculine ego? Hah! He just hadn’t had his real bi awakening yet.

Sam cleared his throat. “You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really, really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?”

“Oh, I have no idea, it's been there forever.” She handed us the keys. “Here you go, Mr. Mahagov.”

“Thanks.” Dean passed me the keys when I tugged on his sleeve.

“You'll be staying in room 237. Sherwin, could you show them to their room?”

A balding butler looking guy showed up and started dragging our duffels and my suitcase behind him. I tried to not flinch against the violent scraping sound, but oh well.

“Antiquers?” the man, Sherwin – like Sherwin Oaks and Sherwin Williams? – raised an eyebrow. He started dragging the duffels and my lovely little suitcase up the stairs and the contents and the wheels violently thumped on each step.

“Uh, I could give you a hand with that.” My poor suitcase.

“I got it.” the man grunted.

“Okay.” I said lamely as I watched him bruise my baby.

“So the hotel's closing up, huh?” Sam started gathering information in the form of small talk.

“Yep. Miss Susan” So that was her name! “tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace.” I finally heaved a sigh of relief when Sherwin reached the next floor and stopped trying to break my suitcase into pieces. “Two different vice presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here, I practically grew up here. Gonna miss it. Here's your room.”

I grabbed my suitcase and motioned for Dean and Sam to grab their duffels. Before Sherwin could offer to open the door, I pushed the key into the lock and gave him a polite tight lipped smile. I knew what this guy was doing. I’d seen enough hustlers in my lifetime to know their game. “Thanks. We got it from here.” I nudged the brothers in, and before Sherwin could say another word, I shut the door in his face. “Hustlers.” I huffed.

 

The mattress was good. It wasn’t too soft, but it wasn’t too hard either. It felt infinitely better than those cheap motel mattresses. And for once, I didn’t have to force myself to ignore the mysterious stains on the whites of the linens provided. Dean snuck up on me and flopped onto his stomach next to me. I spared him a glance before going back to my laptop.

“Think it’s too late to kick him to another room?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“I can hear you. And before you two start anything. Yes.” Sam said from the other bed.

“I found you a wedding dress.” Dean ignored Sam. “That one on display over there.”

I blinked at the ghostly white wedding dress pinned to the wall opposite the beds. “That’s a very… creative idea for wall decor.”

“Right?” Dean scoffed. “Why the hell would anyone stay here? I'm amazed they kept in business this long.” He placed a large hand on the small of my back. I tried to keep myself from shuddering from the gentle warmth. “Though you’d look hot in that thing. Even hotter witho–”

“All right. Victim number one.” Sam said loudly. “Joan Edison, forty three years old, a realtor handling the sale of the hotel.”

“And victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill.” I added.

“Well, there's a connection, they're both tied up in shutting the place down.” Dean’s hand left my back and I almost complained at the loss of warmth. Almost.

Sam answered. “Yeah. Maybe somebody here doesn't want to leave, and they're using hoodoo to fight back.”

“Who do you think our witch Doctor is, that Susan lady?”

“She’s the one selling.” I pointed out

“So, then Sherwin?”

“I dunno.” Sam shrugged.

“The more important question is. Why do all these people think we share a bed? Like we’re some kind of polyamorous throuple? It happened with Jess too!” Dean grumbled.

“Well, you are kinda butch. And Sharon’s a little on the tomboy side.”

I gasped. “I am not ! I’m wearing a skirt!”

“You manspread like crazy.”

“Can a girl not be comfortable anymore?” I huffed. And then I realised I did in fact have one leg hanging off the edge of the bed in a very unlady like manner. “Ugh.” I crossed my ankles in the most demure way I could on a bed.

“Anyway, my point is.” Sam smirked. “People probably think you two are overcompensating.”

“Right.” Dean and I scoffed.

 

“Exploring this place at night feels like a death sentence.” I said quietly as we traipsed through the cold empty halls of this inn. “If this were a horror movie we’d be haunted and killed.”

“It’s a good thing we know how to fight ghosts then, huh?” Dean said and nearly ran into another urn.

The EMF remained unchanged in my hands. Sam knelt down to the urn and hummed. “More hoodoo.” another five point sigil.

“Huh.” Dean looked at a door on the other side. “What’s in here?” As the three of us filed in, I took note of the ‘PRIVATE’ sign on the door. Of course Dean would want to check out a restricted area.

“Oh my God!” came a gasp.

“Oh, uh, hi.” Dean said.

“Hi.” Susan said lamely as our eyes met. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Um. We were looking around the hallways. It’s all so…” I blanked on an adjective. “Cool.” my brain provided.

“Um. You’re not supposed to be here.” Susan said with an awkward smile.

“Oh!” Sam, Dean, and I pretended to be shocked.

“We’re so sorry, we must have wandered in by mistake.”

“There’s a sign.”

“Oh, um. Sorry. We were kind of talking to each other as we were exploring. We didn’t mean to barge in.”

That seemed to be a satisfactory enough answer for Susan and she nodded.

“Well, since we’re here. Do you mind if we take a look around?” Dean started talking. “Are those antique dolls? Because my wife, right here, she's got a major doll collection back home. Dontcha? Huh?”

Well, not the creepy porcelain kind! Though I wouldn’t mind owning a couple to keep Dean and Sam and Bobby and John from poking around my stuff. “Yeah, dressing them up is fun.”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Susan said hesitantly.

“Please, we’ll only look around.” Sam gave her the gentlest smile he had. “Please,” he repeated. “It would make my sister so happy.”

Was it just me or were these two constantly reminding Susan that Dean and I were just siblings to Sam?

“Okay.” Susan stepped aside so we could see the dolls better. “I’m just gonna finish packing up this room.”

“Thank you, thank you!” I expressed my best fake excitement to her and bounded to the dolls on the wall. It felt like their black beady eyes were staring into my soul. I held back a shudder.

“Wow. This is a lot of dolls. I mean, they're nice, you know. Not super creepy at all.”

Susan chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose they are a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever. A lot of sentimental value.”

“And what’s this?” Sam asked, rounding a miniature model. “The hotel?”

Susan nodded. “Yeah, that's right. Exact replica, custom built.”

A broken doll on the floor caught my eye. Its head had been twisted around a hundred and eighty degrees. I smiled as the memories of my cousin sisters ripping arms and legs and heads off my Barbie dolls came back up.

“What happened to that?” Dean asked, a little put off by the broken doll.

Susan sighed. “Tyler, probably.”

“Mommy! Maggie's being mean.” Tyler yelled as she came barrelling into the room.

“Tyler, tell her I said to be nice, okay?”

“Hey Tyler. I see you broke your doll.” Sam knelt down to her level. “You want me to fix it?”

Tyler shook her head. “I didn't break it. I found it like that.”

“Oh. Well, uh, maybe Maggie did it.”

“No, neither of us did it. Grandma would get mad if we broke 'em.”

“Tyler,” Susan’s voice was stern. “She wouldn’t get mad.”

“Grandma?” Dean asked curiously.

“Grandma Rose, these were all her toys.” Susan explained.

“Oh. Really. Where's Grandma Rose now?”

“Up in her room.” Tyler answered.

“Oh,” I took the opportunity. “Would it be possible to talk to Grandma Rose about her amazing doll collection–”

“No.” was the instant response from Susan. I stiffened at the harshness of her voice. “No. I mean, I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking any visitors.”

“Oh.” I remained frozen in place until Dean gently tugged me out of the room.

“Thanks for your time!” Dean said cheerfully, and we went back to our room.

 

“So.” Dean said from the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips. “Dolls, hoodoo, mysterious shut-in grandma.”

Sam started offering ideas. “Well, dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo, like curses, and binding spells.”

“Yeah, maybe we've found our witch Doctor. All right, I'll see what I can go dig up on Granny, you two get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing, see if she's whacked anybody before.”

But I thought it wasn’t the Grandma.

 

“Sam?” I said hesitantly as I saw the sight from the window.

“What’s up? You okay?” Sam walked up next to me and looked through the glass.

“Yeah.” I pushed the curtain to the side a little further. “That’s a corpse right?” I pressed my finger to the cold glass in the direction of a long bag being wheeled away by paramedics.

“Yeah.” I heard Sam swallow next to me. “Looks like Dean is down there.” Dean was talking to Susan. “I’m gonna go check out records in this place.” He said suddenly.

I looked up at him but he was already moving to grab his jacket. “What? Wait, Sam. I'm coming too!”

“No, you just keep looking online.” He waved his hand and left me in the giant cold room.

“What the…”

 

“Dean!” I sat up as soon as Dean twisted the knob and walked into the room. “Did you see Sam?”

“I was talking to Sherwin and found him wandering the hallways.” Dean sighed and Sam groaned dramatically as he sullenly followed after his brother.

“Is he okay?” I walked over to offer Sam a shoulder, but he pushed away my helping hand and collapsed onto the first chair he saw.

“You’re a worrier.”

“Huh?”

“Worrier.” Sam giggled. Giggled . “Get it? Warrior? But worrying?” He giggled some more. “Worrier.” and he snorted to himself.

“Is he drunk?” I asked Dean.

Dean sighed. “‘Fraid so.”

“Dean’s bossy.” Sam slurred. “Bossy and short. Sharon’s a fly.”

“Bitch.” Dean muttered under his breath. A quiet ‘jerk’ came from Sam.

“Um.” I looked at the drunk Sam. “He doesn’t mean that, right?”

“What he means is that you’re a sexy fly.”

“If Sam’s drunk, then you have brain damage.” I turned to Sam. “Sam, what were you thinking? We’re working a case! You can’t just run off and get drunk! What if something happened?” I felt guilt when I realised that his hazel eyes were brimming with tears. I hadn’t meant to make him cry. I looked alarmed at Dean, who just stood in front of his brother, watching him carefully.

“That guy who hung himself. I couldn't save him.” Sam finally said, weakly.

“What are you talking about? You didn't know, you couldn't have done anything.” Dean reminded him. And I’d completely forgotten.

“That's an excuse, Dean. I should have found a way to save him.” His eyes slowly met Dean’s and then mine. “I should have saved Ava too. We should have saved Ava.”

“Yeah, well, you can't save everyone, even you said that.”

“No, Dean, you don't understand, all right? The more people I save, the more I can change!” I jumped when Sam banged his fist on the table next to him. I’d never seen him this angry when he was drunk. An angry Sam would have been easy to control because he would have been lucid. This was an angry and drunk Sam with no control over his emotions and zero decision making skills. If he wanted to, he could snap my wrist in half with just two fingers.

“Change what?” Dean continued asking calmly.

Sam clutched his hands to his chest, like he could stop his heart from thrashing about. “My destiny, Dean!”

Dean clapped his hands. “All right. Time for bed. Come on, Sasquatch.” He pulled Sam’s arm around his shoulder and hauled his brother up. I moved to take Sam’s other arm, almost buckling under his weight, but I stood tall.

Together, Dean and I managed to take Sam halfway to the bed before Sam stopped shuffling his feet like a stubborn mule.

“Come on, Sam.” I gently nudged.

But he shook his head. “I need you guys to watch out for me.”

“We always do.” Dean and I answered.

“No! No, no, no.” Sam stumbled back fixing us with a glare. “You have to watch out for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not, you have to kill me.”

Dean’s voice was dismissive. “Sam.”

Sam’s head snapped up and he shoved Dean so hard, the older one stumbled back.

“Sam!” I scolded. “You can’t go around shoving people like that.”

“Shut up!” he snarled. “Shut up, okay?!” He was breathing heavily now. “What have you done? You knew he was going to die! You knew Ava was going to die! You’ve seen it all happen! So why aren’t you fixing anything?!” My heart hammered in my chest when Sam’s large frame took a step forward. But I couldn’t show fear. Couldn’t show him that I was intimidated by his drunken tantrum.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was cold. “Get off of her.”

“I’m not–”

“You’re scaring her.”

“She’s not scared of me . She’s scared of what she can’t do.”

Yeah man. It was almost like I was human or something with the memory capacity of a human. If I really could have saved all those people then wouldn’t I have done so, already? Sarcasm in the face of fear was a bitch.

“Well, you’re scaring her right now, so back off.”

“She should be.” Sam’s bottom lip trembled.

I pressed a hand against his chest and he folded against me. His sobs wracked his whole body as he cried into my shoulder.

“Come on, big guy.” Dean said gently as he peeled his brother off of me like a sticker. Sticker… An annoying flute started buzzing in my head and I closed my eyes to will away the earworm creeping in.

“Dean…” Sam whimpered as he was placed on the bed. “You have to kill me.”

“Don't ask that of me.” Dean responded quietly.

“No!” Sam’s fingers curled into Dean’s shirt. “Please…” his voice broke. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“And you won’t.”

“I almost hurt her. Now she’ll leave. And be safe from me.”

“Yeah?” Dean sat down next to his brother and pressed a hand into his shoulder. “You’re drunk, right now. It doesn’t count.” His green eyes caught mine over Sam’s shaking figure. “She’s still there. She’s not going anywhere.”

“I’ll hurt her, Dean. I can feel it.”

“That’s never gonna happen, Sammy.” I brushed a hand through his long hair and he sniffled a little more.

He shifted till he was laying on his back. “I don’t wanna hurt Jess too.”

“And you won’t.”

His other hand reached for me, clutching a fistful of my night dress. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“But if I try to, then please kill me .” He whispered.

“No, Sam.” I said sternly.

He broke a little more. “Please, please. You guys have to.” My throat ached with the way he was begging. “Please, promise me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Promise me.”

Dean and I looked at each other before finally relenting. “Promise.”

Finally, a tired watery smile bloomed across his face. “Thanks.”

“Uhuh. Now will you go back to sleep?” Dean pretended to be annoyed.

“Mm.” Sam rolled onto his side till he was facing me and wrapped his long arms around my waist. “’m sorry.”

“Uhuh.” I scratched my nails against his scalp and he sighed happily.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Well, Sam. I wanna bash your head in if you don’t get your drunk hands off my wife.” Dean playfully swatted at the hands clinging onto me.

I smiled as Sam snickered and released me from his hold. “You’re a jealous jerk, Dean…” he slurred before drifting off to sleep.

“And you’re an opportunistic bitch.”

 

Dean’s leather jacket was warm around my shoulders when we made our way to the little overgrown garden outback.

The two of us settled next to each other on a swing for two, and his arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me against him. “Y’know he didn’t mean any of that, right?”

“Yeah, he was just trynna scare us.” I sighed as I ended up relaxing in his arms.

“You held pretty well against his tantrum.” Dean said with a little smile.

I laughed and kicked my legs up and over the armrest. His arm slid down to wrap around my front as he pushed my head down onto his lap.

“Hi.” he said cheekily.

“Hi.” I said back and turned my head to stare at the flowers barely lit up by the weak lights lighting up the pathways in the garden. The stars were bright above them, especially with the moon missing around this time of the lunar calendar.

“Sharon.”

“Yeah?”

“What he said…” he swallowed dryly. “About destiny. Me killing him. Is it-is it true?”

I wanted to say no. By this time I’d gotten used to the loss of bodily functions every time I wanted to reveal something from the show. Instead I ended up saying. “I like binging shows. And I don’t like sad stories.” I reached up and smoothed out the wrinkles forming between his brows. He leaned into my touch, his hands tightening around me just a smidge more. “We’re gonna be okay, Dean.” I lifted one of his hands to my lips. “I promise. We’re gonna be okay.”

“You too?”

“Yeah.” I smiled at the hopefulness in his voice. “I’m not leaving you guys.”

Dean closed his eyes and tossed his head back. “I sure hope so, sweetheart. I really hope so.”

 

Another loud retch echoed from the bathroom. “Sam’s pregnant.” I said into the phone.

Jessica laughed on the other side. “Oh my, how many months?”

“He just started throwing up so I’d say it’s his first month.”

“Sam! Did you miss your period?!” Dean cackled from the kitchen in the suite.

“Fuck all of you!” Sam groaned.

“Tell him we can name our baby Samantha.”

“Jessica says you can name your baby Samantha.”

“Tell Jess… ugh… she can go eat shit… oh fuck…”

“Sam wants you to eat poop.”

Jessica squealed with some more laughter before sighing. “Well, I gotta go to work. Tell Sam to call me when he feels better tonight.”

“Yeah, o’course.” I hung up after a quick ‘bye’. I stared at the laundry thrown over the two beds and sighed. Someone had to fold the clothes, so I got back to folding.

“I'll bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?” Dean sounded hopeful.

Sam groaned. “I can still taste the tequila.”

Dean sighed in relief. And I managed to relax a tiny bit. “You know, there's a really good hangover remedy, it's a, it's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray.”

All that did was make Sam heave again. “I hate you.”

“I know you do.” Dean passed me a cup of coffee. “Hey, turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace.”

“So you think she taught Rose hoodoo?” Sam grimaced in the bathroom.

“Yeah, I do.” Dean sipped his coffee.

“All right.” forced himself off the bathroom tiles with a grunt. “I think it's time we talked to Rose, then.”

I threw a clean hand towel at him before he could leave the bathroom. “Brush your teeth kiddo.”

 

“Do you need help with that, Susan?” I said, poking my head into the room she was clearing out.

“Oh, um, not really.” She laughed nervously.

“Come on, please? The guys are out on a walk and I’ve got nothing better to do.” I insisted.

She hesitantly put down one of the boxes from the stack she’d been trying to carry. “Okay. Fine. Thanks.” She seemed rattled. Her answers were short and quipped. Clearly, something was on her mind.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. The box was heavy in my hands.

“Oh. Um. Nothing.” she forced a smile. “It’s not too heavy is it?”

“Nope.” I made my way behind her slower than I actually could have walked. I had to buy time for the brothers to get their info from Rose the grandma. “You’re loading these into the car?”

“Yeah.” She sighed as she turned to the stairwell. “They’re going to tear this building down.”

Just then, Tyler ran past our legs, squealing in delight. “Oh my.” I said once the kid was out of earshot.

“Yeah.” She remained quiet until we made it to her car.

“Need help with those?” Sherwin asked. He narrowed his eyes when he spotted me. “Ma’am?”

“We’re good.” Susan replied with a tight smile and placed the boxes on the ground.

Sherwin shrugged. “Suit yourself.” and he got into his own car and drove off.

Susan sighed yet again and looked at me. “Thanks. I got it from here.”

“Please.” I pressed again. “I insist.” She looked at the beautiful inn with a distant look in her eyes. “I know what it’s like to lose a home.” I’d moved so many times with my family, never to return again to the place I’d just started comfortably calling home.

She brought a finger to her eye to wipe away the tear forming in the corner and nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

 

We managed to get the last of the boxes in just before sundown. “Thanks so much.” Susan said with a watery smile. She pocketed her keys and started walking around to the back garden where Dean and I had been relaxing just last night.

“This is a lovely garden.” I said.

“Why, thank you.” Susan stopped by the swing and sighed. “My mother used to love this place. I took care of it for her, but now… I can’t believe we’re going to lose all of this…” She choked on a tear but quickly gathered herself. “Did you guys enjoy it?”

“We did. Spent all of last night just watching the stars.”

“Glad to hear it. You guys might just be the last ones to have enjoyed it.” She laughed dryly and looked at the swing that had started to swing despite the lack of wind.

Uhh… was I missing a draft? I focused on the one loose strand of hair that had been tickling my neck all day. No wind. I grabbed Susan’s hand. “We gotta get out of here.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Why?” It was then that she noticed the heavy potted plants swinging violently. “Oh my God.” Headlights cut through what little sunlight was left and the engine of a car revved. Susan’s hands slapped her hips. “My keys are still here– then who’s–”

I yanked her over to the side, breaking her fall. The car sped through the spot where we had just been standing.

“Oh my God. What’s going on?” Susan gasped for air. She was too petrified to even move, and her hand was digging painfully into my shoulder. “What the hell?”

My phone rang, snapping Susan out of her fear. I brought up the phone to my ear and Dean’s voice rang loud and clear. “It’s not Grandma Rose. It's a spirit.”

“You could say that again.” A child’s laughter echoed in the distant background and shivers ran down my spine.  Yeah. This was definitely a spirit.

 

“Whiskey.” Susan said as I guided her to the small bar in the inn.

I silently picked one off the shelves and poured it out. She downed it in one gulp. “What the hell happened out there?”

“You want the truth?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

Susan looked at us skeptically. “Of course.”

“Well, at first we thought it was some sort of hoodoo curse, but that out there? That was definitely a spirit.”

Yeah, she was gonna need another one. I passed her another glass which she promptly tipped back. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah it’s been said.” Dean shrugged.

“Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this,” Sam said gently. “But we need to know when your mother had the stroke.”

“What does that have to do with any–”

“Just answer the question.”

“About a month ago.”

“Right before the killings began.” Sam turned to face me and Dean. “See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone. To protect them.”

“The five point urns." I realised.

“To ward off the spirit.” Dean finished.

“Right.” Sam noted. “Until she had a stroke and she couldn't anymore.”

“You guys are crazy.” Susan attempted to stand up, but Dean pushed her back down into her seat.

“Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? I mean, I guess it did, technically, but, but the spirit can–” Dean groaned when Susan looked at him like he had two heads. “Forget it.”

“Look, believe what you want. But the fact is you and your family are in danger, all right?” Sam cut in. “So you need to clear everybody out of here. Your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone.”

“Daughters?” Susan looked at the three of us. “I only have one daughter, Tyler.”

Sam’s face fell. “Then who’s Maggie?”

“Maggie’s imaginary.”

Dean stood up with a slam on the table. “Where’s Tyler?”

 

Cooked. We were cooked. The playroom had been empty when we’d finally burst through the doors. The dolls lay broken on the floor, their hauntingly empty eyes continuing their hollowed stares. The room was way colder than the night air outside. Definitely not normal.

“Oh my god. Tyler. Tyler!” She grasped my shoulders like it would help her find Tyler faster. “She's not here!” Her face was wild as she looked around frantically, uselessly. I understood her desperation. Finding out your daughter was missing right after something tried to take your life and the three strangers living under the same roof telling you that ghosts existed was a pretty stressful situation. Unfortunately, panicking was not gonna be our way out of this.

“Susan.” Sam grabbed her forearms to steady her. “Tell us what you know about Maggie.”

The pool. I had to go to the pool. Tyler had been drowning in a pool. But where was the damn pool? And it wasn’t like I was just able to ask her where the damn pool was. Could I even rely on my memory?

“Uh, not much. Um,” Susan started stammering and her eyes grew wider and wilder.

“Susan.” I tried to snap her out of it. “We need to know anything you do. Tyler’s life depends on it.”

Her nodded shakily and swept her sweaty hair from her forehead. “Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick.”

“Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?” Sam asked.

“No, no… I don’t think so.”

“Think harder.” Dean ironically insisted. “I mean, somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away?”

Realisation dawned on the young mother. “Oh my god. My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her.”

“Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?” Sam asked.

“The pool.”

Finally. I made a beeline for the door. “Where is it?”

 

I hadn’t seen the pool the night before. It had been tucked away in a corner of the beautiful garden, and was now doubling as a greenhouse with the glass panels having been repurposed. Through the transparent glass walls I could see a terrified Tyler standing on a high ledge that had been made to reach the plants suspended from the ceiling. Below her, was a thick blue tarp covering the still pool water. And the tarp looked like the permanent kind. Who didn’t get rid of the pool water before putting a permanent tarp over it?

Dean and Sam slammed against the door with their shoulders, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Is there another door?” I asked Susan. She nodded before taking off in a sprint. I followed.

The two of us panted as we stared at the back door to the pool. “Keys?” I asked.

She fished them out of her pocket and rattled them in the lock. Nothing. Must be ghost stuff. Dammit. Brute strength was the way through I supposed.

But there was no way I could physically break the door…

“Susan.” I said quietly. “Don’t freak out.”

Her lips parted but there was a subtle dipping of her chin. Okay. Well, here went nothing.

I focused on the door. Imagining it flying back. My head throbbed and the tips of my fingers tingled. The world spun but the door trembled on its hinges.

Breathe, Sharon, breathe.

In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three. Out, two, three.

The hinges broke. The door didn’t go flying as I’d expected, but it did fall flat. I supposed that was good enough.

A pair of strong hands slipped under my arms as I lost my balance. “Sharon, you okay?”

I looked up to see a spinning Sam. I closed my eyes as the hot flashes of white threatened to take over my vision. “Yeah,” my voice came out louder than I’d expected. I could hear Dean and Susan yell ‘Tyler’ but their voices sounded like a distant suffocating echo. “I’m fine.”

“Alright. Let’s just take a minute–”

“No.” I forced myself to my feet. It took every bit of concentration I had to not topple over. The floor felt like a bad earthquake simulator and the world looked and sounded like I’d been tossed into a washing machine. I was forgetting something. An important something. I caught a red flower in my periphery. Rose. The grandma. Something had happened to her. “Sam.” I pushed him with what little strength I had. But the damn words wouldn’t leave my throat.

He looked down at me in alarm. “What’s wrong? Sharon? Hey, hey. Tyler is alright. You hear that? Susan is thanking Dean. They're fine.”

Yeah, but Rose wasn’t. I ended up ripping myself away from his supportive hold and yanked out the red flower.

“Rose.” Sam whispered. And he shot off towards the main building.

I collapsed on the dewy grass, clasping my head. Could I really not save a single person?

 

The paramedics were loading up a barely breathing Grandma Rose. But she was breathing.

“It’s probably another stroke.” one of the men told Susan. “But we’re hoping we got here in time. She is in safe hands.” The men looked at Susan and then Tyler. “Would you like to follow us in your car? You could also ride with us.”

Tyler clutched Susan and she shook her head. “We’ll follow. Please– my mother–”

“She’s in safe hands.” the paramedic reassured. “Finish loadin’ ‘er up! We’re leaving!” he said to the others and the ambulance blared away.

“Thank you.” Susan wiped yet another tear from her eye. “You’re sure you don’t see her anymore Tyler?”

The little girl shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m sure I’d see her.”

Susan sniffed and held her girl a little tighter. “I wonder what happened. That Maggie is no longer here.”

Sam turned to look up at the top floor of the inn. “Might have had something to do with the doll Rose had in her room. Maggie let go of Rose and screamed when I accidentally knocked over and broke the doll.” He shrugged. “She tried to kill me, but it doesn’t take long to drop a lighter on some hair.”

Susan paled. “The doll?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, dolls had the hair of the dead woven into them. Remains, you know. Once that is burned, the spirit is put to rest.”

“But if Rose was trying to hold off Maggie with hoodoo, then why did she have her doll?” Dean questioned.

Sam shrugged. “Sentimental value? Maybe she didn’t even know it had remains.”

I nodded along. “She could have been conflicted on letting go of Maggie versus keeping her away. Sibling stuff you know? Sometimes the danger is worth it.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other with an indescribable expression. But it vanished as soon as they broke eye contact. “Well, you guys should go with Rose.” Sam said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Yeah, yeah.” Susan gathered Tyler and her bags and flagged down a taxi. “Thank you guys again.”

“No problem.” Dean smiled.

Sam smiled back as the mother and daughter duo slid into the taxi. Suddenly, Susan came back out and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I was pressed against her tired shoulder and she whispered another ‘thank you’ into my neck. Huh.

 

“Lesbian.” Dean said seriously as we approached our rides.

“No.” I rolled my eyes.

“That hug. You could have gotten some MILF action. Taken a video for me to… you know…” Dean smirked as he moved his hand in an up and down motion. All he got was a sharp jab to the knee from my boot and Sam’s swear to kill him in his sleep some day.

Dean just laughed and then looked at me and Sam. “Well? That’s a job well done. Saved a hot mom and her adorable little girl. Overall not a bad day.”

“Doesn’t change what we talked about last night.” Sam suddenly quipped. “Or excuse what I did.”

“We talked about a lot of things last night.” Dean caught my eye. “And we did a lot of things.”

For once I didn’t try to stop his teasing. Anything to distract Sam from his spiral. But obviously the kid was more tolerant than either of us gave him credit for. “You two know what I mean.” He deadpanned.

“You were drunk, Sam.” I said gently.

“You guys weren’t.” He snapped. “And you promised.”

“Sam–”

“Sharon, I’m not kidding when I say I’m dangerous.”

“Sammy, listen to me–”

He forced the squeaky door to Baby open and got in. The door slammed shut and the younger brother sulked in the passenger seat.

“He doesn’t mean it.” Dean said quietly.

I knew it. Sam was the most empathetic and sympathetic person on Earth. He and Dean were kinder than anyone else and I knew for a fact that Sam would never actually try to hurt me. “I know, Dean.” I whispered. “I know.”

Notes:

Um. So. work sucks. kids love me too much. and i failed an exam. and uhh idk. i'm cooked. but at least now I can write more fanfic.
Btw we're skipping the next episode, cause I never really liked it. I might upload it later in the one shots verse as a joke or smth.

Chapter 39: House of the Holy

Summary:

"The sight alone should have made my iron stomach churn. The harsh fall onto the asphalt should have at least made a dent in my skin. The stranger’s hand on my shoulder should have made me panic. And yet… All I felt was peace.
“We should leave.” said a feminine, yet somehow masculine voice.
I looked behind me, and there was a person in a skirt and leggings. The tank top clung to their thin frame, but it gave no hints as to whether I was looking at a man or woman. And while the voice had had a higher lilt to it, it had a more masculine cadence. I should have been terrified, but it felt like I was finally seeing an old friend for the first time in years.
“Djibril.” the words left my mouth before I could register them."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Smut (I blame my hormones raging when I was writing this)
2. Slight inconsistencies (I'll fix them some day trust)
3. Horrible writing
Guess who's back XD
do lmk if i missed anything for this chapter.

“Dean…” I gasped his name as he kept going. “Sam’s gonna… ahh… be back.”

“Nothing he hasn’t seen before.” He took my mouth in his and my world may as well have exploded. “Fuck, sweetheart…” He rocked his hips against mine, and went deeper and deeper still. “You feel too good.”

I shuddered with another moan. “You too… oh, oh, oh –”

“Come for me sweetheart.” He whispered. “Come with me.”

He didn’t have to say that twice. My world went crashing, and nothing other than Dean’s presence registered. Did Heaven feel half as good as this? I’d bet not.

“ Fuck !” Dean grunted before pulling out. I let my hands drift from their death grip on his shoulders to his hair and he groaned when my nails scratched against his scalp. “Keep doin’ that, and I’ll…” He shuddered as he let his face drop into my neck. “I’ll take you for another round.”

I kissed the side of his head and nudged him with my still quivering leg. “Condom. Trash.”

“I don’t like that you’re sane.” Dean pouted.

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me. “You make sex feel good and I never thought that would be possible.”

“Oh yeah?” He pushed himself up and freed himself of the rubber. He glared at it like it was the bane of his existence. “This thing keeps me from actually feeling you.”

“Mhm.” My lower back cried in protest when I shifted onto my side so I could look at Dean better when he went to toss the now filled condom and into the bathroom.

My tongue involuntarily darted out to lick my lips. He was a sight. My nails had left some crescent shapes on his shoulder blades, and some angry red marks that were starting to swell up and bloom even brighter against his gorgeous and taut muscles. His muscles . They had been so firm under my fingers yet so pliant and gentle when he flexed them as he had moved above me.

The drying wetness between my legs began to liquify once more, even while I fought to reach down and touch myself. Just because I trusted Dean, didn’t mean that I trusted myself to give myself the same kind of pleasure.

‘Say yes’ .

The blanket fell off my hips as my legs jerked without warning. My thighs slapped together and as if from memory my body curled into itself. I could feel their hands prodding and pressing, exploring depths I’d never dared to explore by myself, places where Dean always asked permission to touch.

‘You don’t want her back. She’s a ruined bitch.’

No, no. They weren’t real. They weren’t real. Christopher was no longer around. And the demons were back in Hell. I wasn’t in Hell. I was home. Well, not home exactly. But Dean had become my home, and wherever he was, I was safe.

I could hear him humming in the bathroom, oblivious to the phantom pains crawling all over my body as my mind remembered every lash and every gash that had been laid down in Hell. I could still remember what it had felt like as my very soul had been carved and sliced and then glued back together, only to be shredded the next day, and then burned till even the ashes had ashes, the next.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget. To replace the memories with those of me and Dean under the stars in the cool night sitting on Baby’s warm engine. Me and Sam lighting sparklers whenever we could find a store selling fireworks. Me and Bobby sitting at the dining table where he would sip his beer and I would crochet the night away. Me finally getting John to eat with him digging into the haphazard taco I’d managed to scrounge up on a cheap malfunctioning portable stove from some random third hand garage sale.

“Hey,”

I snapped my eyes open when the bed dipped next to my hip. A gentle hand brushed aside my hair and the world’s most beautiful shade of green greeted me.

“You okay?” He asked softly. He pulled the blanket back up my nude form. “I wasn’t too rough?”

No. He was never rough.

“Nightmare?”

Did people get nightmares when they were awake? Then yeah.

I closed my eyes when his head leaned down. His breath was warm on my forehead, his damp hair soft, and his lips even warmer and softer when they brushed over my hairline. His hands pressed down gently on my waist, the white sheets bunching in places where his protective touch ran over. “Wanna take a bath?”

Sam was going to be here soon.

“Come on. I could take a second one.” His eyebrows waggled suggestively. This damn handsome man.

His hand slid onto my back and helped me sit up. I held back a hiss as my back complained about the movement.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was alarmed. “Did I hurt you?” He finally looked at my face, and he must have noticed the blush creeping up my neck because he smirked. “Oh, you just had that good of a time, huh?”

I rolled my eyes and let him help me stand up. He tried to steal the sheets but I clutched them around me and he eventually gave up, grumbling ‘prude’ under his breath.

I sank into the warm bath. The porcelain was cracked and part of me wondered if I would have mold growing out of my butt if I sat in there long enough.

“Jeez woman. This water is hot.” Dean muttered. Like he wasn’t the one who’d drawn it. With his calloused touch lathering soap all over me, I closed my eyes. His lips were warm once again when he placed a kiss on my cheek, careful to not get more water than necessary on my long hair. “I got you baby.” Baby. The dean rarely called me baby. Just during times when he wanted me to know that even if I let myself go, he would be right there taking care of me. “I got you,” was the last thing I heard before sleep pulled me under.

 

Screams. Pain. burns. 

“Angels–”

Angels? Speaking of Angels, it had been a while since Djibril had spoken in my head. Where were they?

“Oh, sleeping beauty is awake.” Dean grinned. Well, if those two were gonna be yelling that early in the morning of course I was going to be awake. “G’morning sweetheart.”

“Yeah. Good morning.” Sam echoed with a smile.

Uhuh. “M’rn’n’.” I barely managed before sitting up straight.

“I, um,” Sam started. “I’ve got some information on this case.”

I hummed and let my head fall forward sleepily. My sleep hadn’t been restful or peaceful, so might as well just get up. “‘Sup?”

“Great, I have to start over.” Sam sighed dramatically. “Gloria Sitnick. I’m not so sure she's crazy even if she says she’s been touched by an Angel. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.”

Didn’t she stab someone?

“She said she killed Carl Gully because he was evil.” Sam continued. “Now, get this, I couldn't find any dirt on him. I mean, he didn't have a criminal record, he worked over at the campus library, had lots of friends, he was a churchgoer.”

“Huh.” Dean mused. “So then Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko. I mean, she wouldn't be the first nutjob in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?”

“No, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to. Little odd, don't you think?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Could it be your Angel?” He asked me.

I shrugged. “Dude hasn’t talked in forever.” Actually I was surprised I could even say that line. Maybe it was because it didn’t have any major plot implications. I doubted it was the Angel though. They hadn’t really done anything to harm me or anyone. My fingers found my wrists and I traced over them, until I brushed against the silver ring nestled on my left hand. “Doubt it’s him.” I yawned.

“Okay. So different Angel?” Dean asked. “Did you check Gloria’s apartment?”

“I was just there. Nothing. No sulfur, no EMF,” Sam answered.

“You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?”

“No. But Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gully's doorway.”

“Could be something at his house, worth checking out.” Dean’s hand landed on my head, pushing back the curtain of hair blocking out the awful sunlight. “You comin’ sweetheart?”

I groaned before slumping forward again. “Gimme thirty minutes.”

 

I pulled up next to the Impala, parking my little bike neatly between the car and the sidewalk.

“Oh look.” Dean said sarcastically. “A sign from above.”

I followed his line of vision to a cheap plastic Angel sitting by the doorway. “This is why I like to be atheist in my decorations.”

“I know right?” Dean laughed. “Or: Always take down your Christmas decorations after New Year's, or you might get filleted by a hooker from God. Ha.”

“I’m laughing on the inside.” Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the door to the backyard. Dean and I followed him, looking around carefully for anything suspicious. The three of us paused when we finally reached the storm cellar. “You know, Gloria said the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations.”

“You think she literally meant the foundation?”

I shrugged. “She thought the plastic angel was a sign from God.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “Guess we’ll come back tonight.”

 

“Oh, I am not going down there first.” I said, holding onto my flashlight.

The storm cellar was dark. It was creepy. And it was underground. I didn’t wanna go down there first.

“You can stay back, you know?” Dean said gently.

I shook my head. “I’m going too.”

Dean hummed. “Suit yourself. Come on Sasquatch, you’re going first.”

Sam pouted, but slowly made his way down the rickety worn out stairs. I shone the flashlight from behind, lighting up the boys’ view. Sam suddenly paused, and motioned for me to light up a certain spot on the wooden walls. “Scratches,” he noted. He reached out and picked at the thin lines raked down the walls.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

Sam pulled back, looking at us with his jaw set tight. “It’s a fingernail.”

The three of us exchanged knowing glances. Someone had been held and murdered down here.

“I’ll grab the shovels.” Dean said.

I turned around to watch his figure jog back up the stairs into the cool night air.

“The nightmares still bothering you?” Sam suddenly asked.

I wasn’t expecting him to ask me directly. Should I even answer that question? “Not really.” I answered instead.

“You’re not sleeping right.”

I scoffed. “Neither does Dean.”

“Yeah, but he’s always been that way. You-you slept like the-the dead –” he flinched when the word ‘dead’ left his mouth.

“Yeah, for two months.” more like twenty years. And my sarcastic nature was not helping. Sam visibly cringed and tried to make himself smaller. “Look– Sam. I won't lie. It’s been terrible. Yeah, I can’t sleep as well as I did before. But it’s getting better. I promise.”

“It’s not normal.”

I threw my hands in defeat. “Well, neither is going to Hell and surviving it and coming back to life! Sam, I’m probably never gonna be normal again. And you’re gonna have to deal with it. Is it because I don’t tell you random fairy tales anymore? Or is it because I don’t make you those healthy meals you want that aren’t microwaved for thirty seconds?”

“Sharon–”

“No. Sam. You want things to go back to the way they were, and news flash, it’s not gonna happen. All you need to know, is that it’s getting better.” I pushed past him and walked further down the cellar. His eyes were swimming with guilt and his hands were gripping the edges of his flannel. I ignored all of it. My head hurt. “Let’s find where they could have buried the bodies.”

 

After a solid hour of digging, the three of us were faced with a pile of skeletons.

“So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian.” Dean said.

“So whatever spoke to Gloria, clearly knew what it was talking about.”

I didn’t miss the glance both brothers gave me.

 

“Man, what is up with you, sweetheart?” Dean mused when I jerked my hips up against his palm again. The radio crackled in the background, but none of that registered in my head.

I bit the back of my hand as a jolt of pleasure made my body shudder. “Dunno–” I closed my eyes and gripped the edge of the table even tighter when his fingers curled inside. “ Oh– ” I bit back a curse when he hit that one spot– dammit– I felt like a rabbit in heat.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Dean leaned down to take my lips between his. His fingers left my body before plunging back in, sending me mewling against his tongue. Oh, fuck , I might actually see stars. And I did when his thumb found my sensitive clit and brushed over it so deliciously slowly . “Mhm.” Dean hummed against my mouth. “You’re not listening to a damn thing on that radio, are you?” His fingers left my walls. No-no wait– I could still go– His palms settled on my butt, and the floor left my feet. I was placed on the table properly, and Dean leaned forward, guiding me to lay flat on my back. “You’re so wet…” Dean groaned.

I tried to ignore the emptiness between my legs by looking up at the damp ceiling. Not like I had to worry about it for too long, because Dean’s belt was coming off with a familiar click. And ideally, he would have just put it in by now, but then came Sam’s knocking, and then the twisting of the doorknob.

Dean groaned ‘Sammy’, but my foggy brain was reacting too slow.

“ Holy fucking– you two– Really ?” Sam hissed. In a panic, I pulled my skirt back down enough to cover up. All Dean did was wipe his hands on a towel that was clearly labelled Sam and fixed his belt. “I’m-i’m-um–” Sam stammered at the doorway.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. She’s just gotta put those mermaid panties on–”

I managed to regain myself enough to slam my foot into his thigh and my husband hissed.

“What are you two? Rabbits ?” Sam continued. “And you, Dean, you give me shit for eating rabbit food. So what is this huh? If not rabbits, then are you two? Dogs?”

I definitely wanted the grounds to swallow me whole.

“Do you need like a minute to finish up?”

Dean frowned. “I feel like that’s an insult.”

“Well this is emotionally scarring and traumatising so I wish you’d shut up and stop fucking your wife in the same motel room I sleep in– Did you wipe your hands on my towel? Oh no , DEAN !”

 

I sat awkwardly across from Dean while Sam glared at me from the bed.

“You know you can sit at the table, Sammy.” Dean teased. “There’s space for one more.”

“You two just fucked on that table, I’m going nowhere near that thing.” Sam retorted. He cleared his throat. “Anyways, Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year. All of them were last seen at the library.”

“Where Carl Gully worked.”

“Yep.”

“Sick bastard.”

“So Gloria's angel–”

“Angel?” Dean frowned. “Wait, what if the thing in your head was never an Angel at all?”

“What?”

“No, Dean, I’m sure.” I shook my head. “I know things.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make sense.” Dean stood up and started pacing. “But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel.” He caught my eye. “Not sayin’ you’re lying sweetheart, but maybe this is something else. You’re not- you’re not exactly normal and of this world.” Well he wasn’t wrong. “Maybe, maybe, this is a-a demon or a spirit, you know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms.”

“Maybe.” I swept my hair from my face.

“Okay, well, whatever it is, it's struck again.”

“What?” Sam sat up straighter.

“While Mrs. Winchester here was rutting on my fingers–”

“Dean!” I buried my red face in my hands. This damn man–

“I was listening to the police radio.” Well he had and I was too busy chasing a high I didn’t know I ever wanted to chase. “There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night, stabbed him in the heart.” Next thing I knew, Dean was gonna be providing us with the address. Had that man been distracted by me or not? My ego was slightly wounded.

“And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?” Sam asked.

“Yep. Roma Downey made him do it.” Dean walked back to the table and pulled out a map of the area. “So I have an address.” Of course, he had an address.

 

Climbing over fences was getting easier and easier, and I wasn’t sure how much I liked it. I leapt off the wooden pickets and landed next to Sam who had been waiting for me. Dean had already gone ahead and started forcing a window open.

Sam and I squeezed our ways through and landed in a pile of tangled limbs on the wooden floor. Dean smirked. “Gotta work on your landing there.”

I kicked Sam’s arm off of me, and the younger man grunted in pain. But then he swiftly pushed on my calf to get it off of him, sending me stumbling into the table in front. I hissed as I could already feel the telltale pain of something that would definitely turn into a bruise given enough time.

“Well, gee, thanks, Sam.” Dean snorted. “Now people will think I had her on her knees all night.”

“Oh shut up.” Sam grimaced and stood up, nursing his bruised arm. “Tit for tat.” He jabbed my shoulder before scampering off to the computer in the room.

“Flip you!” I said after him and took to exploring the house with Dean instead.

Nothing unusual in the house. Some porn mags here and there, definitely more tasteless than Dean’s ‘secret’ stash, some cigarettes locked away in a cupboard, and a bunch of flyers with advertisements promising discounts.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Dean said, walking up to me. His head was buried in a particular magazine with a bombshell of a blonde on the cover in a bikini that left basically nothing to the imagination. “In fact this is hella ordinary.” He shrugged and tossed the magazine back into a pile. “You got somethin’?”

“Nope.” I picked up a flyer however. “Can we keep this? It says buy one get one free if we show this at the thrift store.”

Dean grinned. “That’s my girl.” He slung an arm around my shoulders and tugged me closer. His head dipped till his forehead touched mine. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm.” I could get lost in the forest that was his eyes.

“You’re being a little too chipper lately, and that’s, um, not characteristic of you. Not that it’s bad.” He quickly added. “Man, I’m glad you’re loosening up, but… it feels like you’re a little too loose.” He brushed my lips with his. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled against the softness of his mouth. “Just… I don’t know. I feel like I have to make sure you’re there. And uhh, I’ve been, um, kind of… distant lately… so I just… don’t want you to think that I’m not into this.” I gestured between the two of us. “I’m still in this thing, with you and Sam. And I don’t want to be left behind because my emotions are out of whack and that my communication skills basically don’t exist.” Those communications courses in college had done nothing to improve my speaking skills in reality. Honestly, this was the most honest I’d been in a while. I blamed the darkness of the room and that Dean had been rubbing comforting circles into my hip the whole time. And of course that I was sleepy and my brain was shutting down and making me say sappy things I never would have said as a sober awake me.

“Well,” Dean said softly. “Just don’t, uh, force yourself. I guess.” His hands tangled in my hair and he leaned down to lock our lips together in another brief kiss. “But if you’re feeling horny then absolutely hop on my dick. I know your hormones are crazy at around this time of the month.” He smirked, and honestly? My hormones were chill enough at the moment to just roll my eyes and let it slide.

“Hey guys!” Sam suddenly said from across the hall. “Come take a look at this!”

Dean grinned. “Well, looks like Sammy’s calling.”

 

“What?” I planted a foot on the armrest of Sam’s chair and perched on the table.

“So I got into this locked folder on his computer…” Sam’s triumphant smirk fell from his face. “What the fuck…”

“What is it, Sam?” Dean demanded. He leaned over his brother’s shoulder and squinted against the bright screen of the computer.

“Well, he's got all these emails. Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer.” Sam’s eyes widened further as he kept scrolling. “This lady who's thirteen years old.”

Dean ran his hands down his face and looked away. “Oh, I don't want to hear this.”

“Perverted psycho freak.” I shuddered as I spotted the string of emails between this old man and a tiny young girl.

“Looks like they met in a chat room. These emails are pretty personal, Dean. Look at that. Setting up a time and place to meet.”

“Great.” Dean started pacing.

“They were supposed to meet today.”

“Wait, so this creature thing is doing good deeds?” I frowned. Was it really an Angel?

“Yeah.” Dean’s brows furrowed slightly. “I guess if you're gonna s*ab someone, good timing. I don't know, man, this is weird, you know? I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like a–”

“An avenging Angel?” Sam raised an eyebrow. Dean looked away. “Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy–”

I spotted another pamphlet hiding below the mousepad. “Wait, what’s that.”

Dean plucked it out and his laps parted in amusement. “You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Sam asked.

“What was the name of his Church?” Dean opened up the pamphlet and started reading it.

“Our Lady of the Angels.” I answered.

“Of course that'd be the name.” Dean brought down the flyer so it was lit up by the computer screen. “Looks like Frank went to the same church.”

 

I was decked out in something so modest I would never have left the AC of the motel room in it. The long sundress fluttered around my ankles and I clutched the cardigan around my chest like I was clutching my pearls, which of course rested as fake as they were around my collar. I kept my hand light on Dean’s elbow, occasionally pulling and pushing on him so I could keep the various mysterious brown squishy lumps on the ground from even brushing against my fancy sandals.

“So you're interested in joining the parish?” Father Reynolds, the priest of the church, asked. He looked friendly enough, but I didn’t miss the judgemental look that flashed across his eyes when he first spotted me hanging off of Dean.

Dean quickly responded, veering the attention off of me. “Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday.”

“Oh, so you’re Christian?” Father Reynolds smiled politely at me.

“Yes, Father.” I smiled. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, being sure to nudge the cross necklace around my neck back into the sun.

The man nodded approvingly. “Where'd you say you lived before?”

“Fremont, Texas.” Dean confidently responded.

“Really? That's a nice town. St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there.”

Ooh, ooh, I’d researched this beforehand. “Father Shaughnessy, yes?”

“Why yes.” The man’s smile got much more welcoming. “It’s glad to see some faithful folks who are involved in their communities.” Like Churches were the only communities on Earth. “We're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here.” He looked at the two of us expectantly and we shifted awkwardly. “Any plans for a bap–”

Before the man could even finish suggesting children, Dean had taken the reigns again. “Hey, listen, I gotta ask– no offense, but uh, the neighborhood?” Dean chuckled as he patted my hand. “My wife is a little concerned.”

“Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important.” The man went on. “Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off.”

I faked a timid voice. “But Father, the murders…?”

“Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years.”

“We saw on the news.” Dean continued. “The killers said that an angel made them do that?”

The priest sighed. “Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic.”

I gasped. “Are you saying that Angels don’t exist, Father?”

“Oh, no, I absolutely believe.” The man chuckled. “Kind of goes with the job description.”

Dean slowed down as he spotted a painting on the wall. By all irony, it was the painting of the Angel Michael. I held onto him a little tighter, tugging him along behind Father Reynolds. I was dreading the day I would lose this respectful beautiful man to the petty squabble between two Archangels just because their daddy was a trashbag with absolutely no sympathy for the creatures he created by himself. Dean must have noticed my slight distress, because he leaned down to gently whisper, “everything okay?”

I hummed dismissively, and he seemed to accept it.

He was quick to get distracted by something else, and I was suddenly grateful his attention span was basically as cooked as mine. “Hey, Father, what's, what is all that for?” He said as we approached the massive gates of the massive Church. There was a bunch of items left on the massive staircase, and the Father responded slowly, as though his heart ached. “Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“Was?”

“He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt.” What did ‘interred’ mean?

“When did this happen?” I said with concern.

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.” Father Reynolds shook his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. He was a good friend.” He sighed. “I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out.”

“For what?” Dean questioned.

“For deliverance, from the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose.”

Dean and I shared a look. “Well, Padre, thanks. We’ll see you again.” Dean reached out a hand and one firm handshake each later we exited to meet up with Sam who had been exploring the shrine while Dean and I kept the Father distracted.

 

“Wow.” Sam said once we finished relaying our story.

Dean started theorising. “Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there.” Dean didn’t notice the uneasy glance flicker in Sam’s hazel eyes. “And he knew all the other stiffs, because they went to church here, in fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest, he knew things about them that nobody else knew.”

“Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?” Sam tried to hint.

Dean refused to admit it. “Aw, come on, man, what's your deal?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic, but since when are you all Mr. 700 Club?” Another reference of Dean I never understood. “No, seriously. From the get-go you've been willing to buy this angel crap, man. I mean, what's next, are you going to start praying every day?”

“I do.” Sam said quietly.

“What?”

“I do pray every day. I have for a long time.”

Oh. right. Sam prayed every morning. When he thought no one was looking. I would sometimes catch him by the window with his eyes closed and his lips moving silently. They stopped every time Dean or I shifted in bed, and he would do nothing remotely religious once we woke up. He’d asked me one time, if I believed in God. And when I responded that I didn’t believe in God, or any God for that matter, he’d gone silent. But then he’d asked me if there even was a God, and I’d fallen mute. And he must have taken it as a sign that God’s existence must have been significant enough for me to not be able to utter a word, and he’d gotten more serious and longer in his prayers ever since. The betrayal would undoubtedly hit him harder when he would learn that God was the reason their lives were this messed up.

And right now, Dean’s silence spoke volumes. “Let’s check out Gregory’s grave.”

 

The crypt was a winding maze of stone hallways. The stone was cold, having never truly seen the sunlight since it was built, yet somehow it felt suffocating. And the stone Angels placed along every foot or so were eerily realistic looking. It felt like their eyes were following our every move, judging, deciding, patronising. And truth be told, the real Angels from up above were probably doing the same. Looking down on us, laughing as us puny lesser humans struggled to find our place in life.

I shuddered and pressed closer to Dean. He was warmer, until he wouldn’t be. In a couple of years, Sam and John would have to bury him. But not if I could help it. Dean entered a room, and I fixated my eyes upon one particularly smiling Angel. The curve of their lips may have been meant to soothe or soften the hard stone cold features of the statue, but all it did was send shivers down my spine, because the smile looked more like a snide smirk letting us know they were superior beings.

“Sam, Sharon.” Dean called back to us. “You guys comin’?”

I snapped my head back to Dean and nodded. “Yeah, coming.” I jogged up to Dean, but turned around with a frown when Sam’s usual heavy footsteps didn’t follow. “Sam?”

“Sammy?” Dean drawled. “Come on Sammy. We don’t got all day.”

All of a sudden, he dropped to the floor. Dean and I paled. “Sammy?” We said with concern. When he didn’t stir, but continued staring at an Angel statue with wide eyes, the two of us panicked. “Sammy! Hey!”

And once again he snapped back to reality, pushing himself off the floor and gasping for air.

“What was it? Another vision?” I asked.

He swallowed and his gaze flickered back to the smiling Angel. “Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay.” Dean helped the man up, and I offered my shoulder even though Dean was doing most of the lifting.

“Come on, Sammy.” With some effort, we got Sam out of the crypt, and lowered him onto the ground of the Sanctuary.

After a beat, Dean asked. “You saw it, didn't you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Dean, I saw an angel.”

Dean’s lips parted, but closed again. He ended up reaching into his flannel for a thin flask which he unscrewed. “All right. Here.” He offered it to Sam who shook his head. Dean just shrugged and took a swig himself. “I’m too sober for this.” He sighed, but turned to his brother anyway. “So. What makes you think you saw a, uh, angel?”

“It just, it appeared before me and I just, this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace.”

Yeah, I knew the feeling. Djibril. Sometimes I wondered if I would have gone insane without that Angel yapping in my head. Or that maybe the Angel was keeping me strong through the years, healing every broken piece in my head before it could crack wide open into the nightmares that haunted me every night after Hell.

“Okay, Ecstasy Boy, maybe we'll get you some glowsticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?” Dean jabbed at Sam.

“Dean, I'm serious. It spoke to me, it knew who I was.”

“It's just a spirit, Sam. Okay? And it's not the first one to be able to read people's minds.” Dean sighed and sat down next to him. “Okay, let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner, you've just got to wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?”

Sam scowled. “Yeah, actually.”

“Great.” Dean scoffed. “I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?”

“Actually I did, Dean. And the angel told me.” Sam said stubbornly. “He hasn't done anything. Yet. But he will.”

“So what’re you gonna do, Sam?” I asked quietly. “Surely you’re not thinking of–”

“Sharon, the angel hasn't been wrong yet! Someone's going to do something awful, and I can stop it!”

“You know, you're supposed to be bad too. You’ve threatened Sharon before, drunk or not. That was unacceptable.” Dean said lowly. “Maybe, maybe I should just stop you right now.”

“Hey, look, I was wrong for that, alright?! I apologized to her, and she accepted it! And you can’t expect me to actually hurt her! She’s my sister!” Sam was yelling by this point. “You know what, Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility–”

Dean raised his hand to shut his brother up. “Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's– hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who else had faith like that – mom. She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me.”

Oh. Yeah. I’d forgotten about that. Several years of whispering stories and lullabies to the brothers had made me forget Mary’s night routine with Dean. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my bottom lip from quivering.

“You never told me that.” Sam whispered.

Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I was even supposed to listen in on this. My legs itched to go somewhere else. But my arms itched to wrap themselves around both the brothers and tell them it would all be okay.

“Well, what's to tell? She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm going to need to see some hard proof. You got any?”

“Sharon said there was an Angel–”

“Well then, maybe it was some piece of shit spirit in her too!” Dean yelled. His chest heaved. Did he really think I was dumb enough for that? I knew this world. I knew there were Angels. Just because I couldn’t confirm it didn’t mean that Angels didn’t exist. His green eyes darted all around before landing on me, and then they filled with guilt. “Shit– sorry– I-I didn’t mean–”

“No, it’s fine.” My answer was more clipped than I’d hoped it would be. “You don’t believe in it. It’s fine. I can’t force you to.” I looked at Sam. “But Sam, Dean is right. Everything here points to a spirit.”

Sam’s jaw and fists clenched, but he didn’t protest further.

 

The three of us crouched next to Father Gregory’s tombstone.

“Wormwood.” I noted, feeling over the leaves of the vines wrapped around the tombstone to make sure it wasn’t faux decorations.

“Yeah.” Dean looked around. “Plant associated with the dead; specifically the ones that are not at rest. I don't see it growing anywhere else, except over the murdered priest's marker. It's him, Sam.”

“Maybe.” Sam mumbled.

“Maybe?”

“Dean, I don't know what to think.”

“Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof.”

Sam frowned. “How?”

“We'll summon Gregory's spirit.”

“In the Church?” I gaped at Dean. “Dude, this is Church. We can’t just do a seance in the middle of it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we just need a few odds and ends, and that séance ritual in Dad's journal.” Dean fumbled through the pages.

“Oh, a séance, great. Hope Whoopi's available.” Sam said sarcastically. Great, more references I didn’t understand.

“That's funny, actually.” Dean deadpanned. “Seriously. If Father Gregory's spirit is around, a séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest.”

“But if it's an angel, it won't show. Nothing will happen.”

“It’s worth a shot.” I glanced at the brothers. “We got nothing to lose from performing the seance.”

They both stared at each other, but ultimately relented.

 

“We’re performing a seance using a Spongebob table runner.” I huffed, looking at our latest purchase.

“Yeah, we’ve gone pretty ghetto, but this one takes the cake.” Sam grinned.

Dean playfully rolled his eyes. “Fine you two. We’ll put the Spongebob side face down.”

The footsteps beside me stopped. I stopped too, and looked up to an open mouthed Sam. “Sam?”

“That’s the sign.” He breathed.

“What?” Dean squinted into the night, trying to follow Sam’s dazed gaze. A man was lit up from the back by a car’s headlights. “Where?”

“Right there, right behind that guy! That's him.” He shifted our purchases from one hand to another. “We have to stop him.”

“Wait a minute.” Dean stepped in front of Sam.

“What are you doing?” Sam tried to sidestep Dean, but I stepped in front of him too. “Let me go.”

“You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?” Dean admonished.

Sam groaned. “Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him.”

“And how far will you go to stop that guy?” I demanded. “Sam, you’re not going after that guy.”

“Dean, Sharon, please, he's going to hurt someone, you both know it.”

Dean and I glanced at each other. Absolutely not. But Sam wasn’t gonna take it. I gave Dean the subtlest of nods.

His shoulders slumped exaggeratedly in defeat. “All right, come on.”

Sam got in the car with Dean, who immediately locked it. “Wha– Dean!” Sam cried when he realised what was going on. “Dean, let me out!” His muffled voice came through the windows of the Impala.

Dean rolled down his side of the window with one hand, and used the other to keep Sam from forcing his way closer to the driver’s side. “You go on ahead. Stop that guy.” Dean dug a sharp elbow into his brother’s gut, sending him grunting. “Sam and I are gonna do that seance, and take care of that spirit son of a bitch.”

“Works for me.” I clipped on my helmet and swung my leg over the well worn leather. It felt like home. The bike rumbled to life under me and I leaned forwards to grip its handlebars. The stretch of my back felt like it was relieving all the tension in my body and I kicked away the kickstand preventing me from flying off. “See you boys later.”

 

The night wind was cold against my skin. Goosebumps littered my bare legs as I followed the guy that had been backlit by headlights in his car. There had been flowers in his hands, and I had a vague idea of what evil things he was going to do. Unfortunately, I had experience with that. Oh shoot, the light above me turned yellow. I twisted the throttle a little more, and I managed to make it out just before it turned red. Huh… the car came to a stop by a small house. The man got out with the flowers and smiled as the door opened.

A young woman came bouncing out, dressed in low rise yoga pants and a cropped tight hoodie over her frame. Both were a matching neon pink set. I cringed at the fashion, but then looked down at my sundress with the cardigan over it. Well, not like I could complain about someone else’s fashion sense, but… high rise…? Please…? Or at least something that wasn’t neon hot pink? I held back a shudder when she got into the car with the man and the flowers. Their car vibrated to a start. I watched the two drive off. I wasn’t gonna make that same mistake again.

Still… I’d gotten in a car alone with Dean. It had been fine. But as the car pulled over to a suspiciously shaded quieter area, I was once again reminded of how rare men like Dean truly were in the world.

I let my bike slow down to a stop. Just in case, their car had just broken down or something. A part of me wanted to believe that the world still had good people in it. Hopefully, Sam had been wrong. Hopefully. That hope didn’t last long.

Panicked cries shrieked through the thin glass windows. Dammit. I knew men couldn’t be trusted. I threw down the kickstand and walked up to the glass, taking off the black helmet that reflected the moon up above. I wrapped the straps around my fist and reeled back. With an insane amount of force, black met glass and the glass shattered. The girl screamed as the glass spilled all over her. The man next to her stared at me horrified, still with the knife in his hands. I grabbed my gun and raised it so it was level with his head.

“Get out of the car or I shoot.” The man opened and closed his mouth uselessly. “I’m not gonna repeat myself. Get out .”

The man turned back to the wheel and tried to restart the car. Oh no , not on my watch. I pressed the trigger. The woman only shrieked further, but her cries were drowned out by the pained howl from the man.

“You okay?” I leaned down to the shaking woman who looked torn between deciding who was safer.

“That bitch is crazy!” the man cried and scrambled for the door.

Damn that thing. “Hey, just stay put alright?” I squeezed the woman’s shoulder. All she could do was stare wide eyed and shaking, her hand rapidly making a cross over her heart. Damned Christians. “Call 911 or something.” I told her before running off after the guy.

My boots slammed against the asphalt. My legs were starting to throb, and my chest felt tight from exertion, but a little more and I could stop the guy–

I gasped as I was yanked back. A truck appeared out of nowhere, swerving off its lane and into the space I’d been just a split second ago, and crushing the man I’d been chasing.

What. The. Actual. Fu– That could have been me. That could have been my body squished to death between the crumpled front of the truck and the cracked tree. Blood had splattered everywhere, and the man’s body was nothing more than just a human burger patty.

The sight alone should have made my iron stomach churn. The harsh fall onto the asphalt should have at least made a dent in my skin. The stranger’s hand on my shoulder should have made me panic. And yet… All I felt was peace.

“We should leave.” said a feminine, yet somehow masculine voice.

I looked behind me, and there was a person in a skirt and leggings. The tank top clung to their thin frame, but it gave no hints as to whether I was looking at a man or woman. And while the voice had had a higher lilt to it, it had a more masculine cadence. I should have been terrified, but it felt like I was finally seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

“Djibril.” the words left my mouth before I could register them.

Their face showed no emotion. “We should go.”

Their long fingers curled around my wrist and I was pulled away from the scene. Red and blue lights flashed and sirens wailed in the distance. But one blink, and all of that disappeared.

“Sharon?” Sam’s voice floated from across the motel room. When did I– “Sharon, hey.” His hands wrapped around my shoulders as he scanned me up and down.

“Who are you?” I heard Dean demand.

Teleportation, my brain provided. Obviously. Angels could teleport. “Are you okay?” Sam pulled me behind him, and Dean was already staring down Djibril.

“I’m-i’m fine.” I stammered.

“I saved her. She’s fine.” Djibril said stubbornly. “I only came to return her.”

“ Saved her?” Dean’s head whipped to me. “From what?”

“She was about to be killed by a truck.”

“ What? ”

Djibril shrugged. “It was divine will that that man die tonight. She was just an afterthought. Truth be told, she doesn’t have a fate decided for her. She wasn’t even supposed to be here.” Djibril frowned. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

Yeah, right. I wasn’t of this world. It made sense that no one had anything planned out for me in this life. I was an anomaly. Not meant to be here. And yet, I had a ring with Dean’s name carved into it, telling me I belonged. And the two brothers had placed themselves between me and this supposed unknown threat without missing a beat. My eyes grew hot. “So why did you save me?”

Djibril blinked, confused. “Why not?” Good question. Why shouldn’t I live my life here? I had people who cared, people who would die before they let anything happen to me. So why not? I stood a little taller. Yeah, why not?

“So who are you?” Sam asked this time.

Djibril rolled their eyes. “My name is Djibril.” Their eyes landed on me. They were an icy blue, sparkling just below their jet black bangs. “That should explain it.”

Sam grew hopeful. “An Angel?”

“I don’t believe it.” Dean stiffened. 

“You should have more faith, Dean.” Djibril said finally. “I really should go.”

And with the fluttering sound of wings Djibril was gone.

 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Dean asked for the millionth time.

Dawn was starting to crack, lighting up the parking lot through the cracked window. My bike stood proudly next to Baby. Djibril must have Angel magicked it back.

“I’m fine.” I sat on the bed, propped up by pillows against the headboard with the two brothers hovering over me like birds. Except one was bouncing up and down with excitement, while the other was stressing out from skepticism.

“It wasn’t Djibril who did that, was it?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“But the one doing the killings was Gregory.” Dean reminded us.

“Yeah. But, that was an Angel.” Sam retorted.

“That could still be a spirit.”

“Dean.” I looked at him. “Have a little faith.”

He shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

“So I’m crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No you meant it. I’m telling you the truth, but you won’t believe me.”

“I thought Angels were supposed to, you know, save people. All that one has done is keep you from talking and saving people.”

I brought my hand to my throat. “I don’t think it’s them that’s doing it anymore.” I said truthfully. “They even showed themselves to you, I don’t think they’re controlling this.”

“I need a drink.” Dean walked over to the table and grabbed a case. The dented steel of his other ring met the metal cap and the top fell to the carpeted floor. He held it out to Sam, who took it. And then opened another one for himself. “Okay, so you’re saying there’s a higher power?” He took a swig before I answered. Not like I could. I wanted to tell him that there was a God. The God was Chuck. Chuck just saw us as toys. The tears on my cheeks were enough of an answer, however, and Dean fell silent.

I accepted the tissue Sam passed me, but by then I’d already blinked away the waterworks and rubbed my cheeks raw.

“You know…” Sam said quietly. “I wanted to believe, so badly. It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. All alone, you know? There's so much evil out there in the world, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny, when I think about how I could end up…” He swallowed. “But now the thought doesn’t feel so comforting.” His large hand found mine and squeezed. “You belong here as much as we do.” I squeezed back. “Fate’s got nothing on us.”

Right. That was the route the brothers had always taken. Fate and destiny be damned. It was just the Winchesters against the world. And that was what had made me fall in love with them in the first place.

“Yeah.” The bed dipped next to me, and Dean’s familiar warmth washed over me in comfort. “Don't worry about that. All right? I'm watching out for you.”

“You’re just one person, Dean.” I whispered.

“Hey,” Sam cut in. “You got me too. You got Dad. You got Bobby.”

“Hell, you got Rumsfeld now too.” Dean snorted.

Sam opened his mouth. “Dean– you can’t use that word–”

“No.” I cracked a smile. “He’s right. Hell…” the word tasted weird on my tongue. I hadn’t said it in forever. It had felt like the nightmares would become a reality if I’d said it out loud. I’d acted like if I ignored it long enough, all that pain could just be buried and forgotten. But the question was why the hell not just accept it as it was? “Hell I’ve got you guys, so what’s there to worry about?” I threw my legs onto Sam’s lap and sank into Dean’s chest. I tilted my head back till I met the stunned green of his eyes and grinned. “Lowkey, I wanna go shopping.”

Sam snorted and Dean smirked. “We’re gonna need a bigger bag for you then, sweetheart.”

Notes:

Djibril coming back was not something I'd planned when writing this ep. Hell I forgot this episode even existed. Therefore you won't see Sharon even feeling like this was something she'd seen before. Cause if I can forget it less than 6 months after watching the show, then she sure as hell isn't remembering it after what ten years?
Saja Boys world domination. My students now know I read hardcore smut in the middle of the classroom. meh. what're they gonna do. Anyway, my coworker and I have decided to dress up scandalous af on the last day of classes for funsies. Not like it matters if we get fired on that day. HAHAHA.

Chapter 40: Born Under a Bad Sign

Summary:

"“I’m sorry-I’m sorry– I’m so sorry–” Sam choked.
“We don’t have time for that.” I snapped at him. “Get moving. Get rid of your prints, get the cameras, we’re burning every single thing.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Uhhh abuse.
2. I stress wrote this. so prolly missing a few details here and there.
3. Terrible writing obviously.

Born Under a Bad Sign

“Sam’s still not back?” I asked as Dean slid under the covers with me.

“Mhm.” He hummed. He rolled onto his stomach, half on top of me and half not. “Kid’s probably buried in some book in the library’s restricted section.” I ran my hands through his hair, smiling when he let out a moan as my nails raked across his scalp. “Feels nice.” His breath was warm on my collarbone, and his weight comforting on my chest. He nudged my ankles with his feet, and soon our legs were just as tangled as our upper halves were. My arm was already starting to tingle from being tucked under his pillow, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Not when he looked so peaceful against my chest. “No sex tonight?” I teased.

He immediately became alert. “You offering?” His fingers drifted down to my hip, already ready for a long night.

I flicked his forehead. “No. I'm tired.”

Dean pouted against my neck. “I hate you.” He mumbled, but a few seconds later, he was off to snoring in dreamland.

I sighed and closed my eyes. It had been a long poltergeist case in the middle of West Texas. And all three of us were exhausted. Though Sam had found enough energy to go to the library. Dean and I… well we’d just crashed right after, managed to get through a bucket of popcorn, two bottles of beer, one of soda, and a couple of hours of Star Wars. The two of us ended up drooling over Anakin and Padme both, letting the comments get more and more unhinged as we loosened up since Sam was gone anyway. No pressure to keep it PG. I glanced at the door one last time. Salt line there undisturbed. Salt lines at the window and the bathroom door, also undisturbed. I reached my free arm up and felt for the spell we’d carved into the headboard, just out of sight, tucked neatly behind the mattress. It was rough against my palm, but reassuring. And the gun was still cold under my pillow. We were prepared.

“G’night, Dean.” I muttered. And let myself finally sleep.

 

I turned on the sink in the bathroom. Lukewarm water ran over my hands even though I’d turned the heat to the max. Water spilled through the cracks in the porcelain and splashed all over my thin gown. I shuddered as a cold draft filtered in through the AC, and I pretended to ignore the mice scratching against the walls from inside them. I raised my head and I was met with something that looked much older, much more weathered than I’d ever seen myself. Smile lines were beginning to form around my mouth, and every time I squinted I could see the wrinkles in the corner of my eyes. My lips were perpetually cracked, and a red dot threatened the paleness of my face forming just on the bow of my upper lips. I had one word for the person in the mirror. ‘Not attractive’. But not ugly.

Because man, she had the prettiest eyes and the most loveliest of lip shapes. And her hair tumbled over her shoulders, promising volume and silkiness once combed. But the nose felt a little too flat and wide, the lips a little too dry and fat, the skin a little too pitted and wrinkled.

The yellow light above my head flickered, and I raised my hand to my face before the light could give out for good. I traced them over my features. Not ugly, but not attractive. Undeserving of the Adonis that slept next to me in the same bed. Undeserving of the tall young man who rolled his eyes at me for the dumbest of things yet called me his sister with the utmost adoration.

And yet… The silver of my wedding ring glinted in the struggling bathroom light. I flipped the overgrown uneven bangs back on my head and stood a little straighter. I belonged here. They’d picked me and welcomed me into their family. No one had forced them to love me. But they did anyway. Surely that accounted for something. I was worth something. To someone. And even an Angel had saved me. Yeah, why not? Why wouldn’t I matter?

I twisted the faucet to a stop, and the light above my head finally flickered out. Still, I flicked off the switch and made my way back to the bed where Dean was still sprawled. As I lifted the blanket to be wrapped in Dean’s warmth again, my eyes flitted to the empty bed next to us. I swallowed down the worry bubbling in my throat. It was probably a very interesting lore book. Or maybe Sam had been caught and was being detained at the police effort and had used his one phone call to call Jess. That kid was smart. He had to be fine.

 

A full week later, and I was starting to get antsy.

Sam hadn’t called Jessica either. And she was starting to worry. She’d even offered to take time off her brand new job to help us look. But that girl had already sacrificed too much for this family, so I’d quietly told her to stay put in case Sam ended up going to her apartment.

“Find anything?” I asked when Dean forced Baby’s door open.

The slam that followed was enough of a response. “What about license plates?” He looked at the computer on my lap. I shook my head. “Nothing that matches the plate.” He’d taken my ride with me and just straight up disappeared.

“What about descriptions?”

I barked a laugh. “Do you have any idea how many black Kawasakis there are?” I sagged into the vinyl seats. “There’s nothing on the county records.”

Dean’s boot connected with whatever part of Baby was unfortunate to be close to it. I held back the flinch that almost jerked through my body. “Ash doesn’t have anything either.” He threw his phone behind him. It clamored to the floor, but Dean wasn’t done. His fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel. “This is like looking for Dad all over again.”

I just watched in silence. I had nothing to offer. No matter what I asked, Dean just got more and more upset. I had a feeling that if I weren’t there, he would have smashed something from the stress of losing Sam already. The keys jingled as Dean shoved them into the ignition and started backing out of the store we’d stopped to ask questions at. “At least Dad’s answering.” His laugh held no humor. “He only ever did respond when Sam was in some kind of trouble.”

The urge to defend John and to remind Dean of all the times John had dropped everything to save his eldest son bubbled up in my chest. But I pushed it back down. Saying that would just make Dean mad at me instead.

As if he could feel the tension in my shoulders, Dean’s eyes softened apologetically in my direction. “Sorry.” He mumbled. His grip loosened slightly on Baby’s wheel, but the rest of his body remained tense. “I’m-” He ran his hand down his face, as if hoping it would soften his facial expression even if slightly. “I’m not trynna take it out on you.”

“It’s alright.” I said quietly. I kicked off my shoes and rested my socked feet against his jean clad thigh. He seemed relieved with the distraction, and his hand took to resting, no more like gripping, my legs instead. It was as though he could anchor himself just by clinging onto my ankles. “I’m not going anywhere.” I reminded him again.

He jerked his head down in a nod.

That’s when the phone rang.

I fished it out of my back pocket and flipped it open. Unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey.” John’s rough voice said.

I sat up straighter. Dean pulled over to the side. “It’s John.” I said and passed over the phone.

The phone was gone from my hand in a whirlwind and he started talking. “Dad. Did you find anything?”

Dean motioned for me to open the glovebox as John kept talking. He reached in and felt his way through it till he found a map. “Write down this address for me, sweetheart.” He urged. Right. Pen and paper. It took a second of rummaging through a flap in my new suitcase for me to find them. Dean rattled off the address and I scribbled it down the best I could. “Yeah, we’ll be there, Dad.” He’d unwrapped the map and squinted at it. “Like three hours away.” And after exchanging a few more words, Dean hung up.

“He has Sam?” I asked hopefully.

“Yeah.” Dean said. He shifted Baby back into Drive. “Hold onto your hat.”

 

“109, 109, 109…” I muttered as I walked through the hall of the motel. It took a minute, but 109 was soon staring at me in the face. I twisted the door knob, but of course it was locked.

Dean was a lot less apologetic with his approach. His fist banged twice on the wood. “Dad! It’s us!”

The door clicked open softly, and Dean pushed in. "Where's–"

By the time I’d managed to step inside, Dean was already at his brother’s knees, coaxing the younger man to look up and talk. I spotted a bloodied shirt in the corner. I glanced up at John who just muttered ‘the blood isn’t his’.

“Are you hurt, Sammy?” Dean ran his hands over his brother’s form anyway, trying to assess for wounds.

Sam shook his head. “What happened?” I asked John.

“He called. And I found him like this.” John sighed.

“So?” Dean stood up, slightly reassured that his brother wasn’t hurt, but still tense. “What’s going on?”

Sam beat John to a response. “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Dean, I don’t remember anything.”

 

This was feeling more and more like something I’d seen before. With the only exception that John was here.

“He checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora.”

John and Dean both snorted. But only Dean made the next comment. “The scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan.”

“Dean,” Sam and I both chided.

Before this could turn into a fight, John continued speaking. “Your room's been quiet, nobody's noticed anything unusual.”

“You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?”

“Yeah.” John said simply.

“Then how the hell did I get here?” Sam’s wide hazel eyes were horrified as they flicked between the three of us. “What happened to me?”

“I don't know. But you're, you're okay, and that's what matters.” Dean, ever the obsessed brother, said gently. “Everything else we can deal with.”

“Oh really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone? Or worse?”

“You don’t have it in you to hurt anyone.” I said. “Sam, we’re gonna figure this out.”

“What do you remember?” John asked.

Sam was still too shaken to respond clearly. Dean gripped his shoulders. “Come on man. You’re stronger than that. We've just got to treat this like-like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?”

“Just you, me, Sharon, just, in that motel room in West Texas. You two wanted to watch a movie,” I ignored John’s frown. “So I went to the library, and…”

“West Texas?” Dean cut in. “That was, that was over a week ago.”

I nodded. “The poltergeist case, right?”

“Yeah, I remember wrapping up that case and then just… Next thing I knew I was sitting here. Bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month. Dean-dean, what if I- what if I actually–”

John’s voice was cold when it pierced through Sam’s panic. “Retrace your steps. The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and he never saw you come back.” That seemed to work, and Sam’s panicked haze was reduced to a concentrating look.

I walked over to the windows of the motel room. I peeled back the curtains and frowned. “What’s this?” It was a bloodied fingerprint.

 

I stayed back to clean the place of any other evidence that might have been left. The bloodied shirt I washed in the sink for a good while. The muddy boots I cleaned in the tub. The bloody fingerprints I scrubbed with bleach. And the motel floors I gingerly combed for any other traces.

According to John’s irritated grumbles, Sam had refused to leave the room even with John insisting and demanding that he do so. But the second Dean had shown up, Sam had turned into an obedient puppy, following his older brother no matter what he said. ‘Asshole’, John had muttered, but I didn’t miss the way his eyes had softened at how the two brothers basically stuck together like puzzle pieces. My eyes stung. My brother and I had been the same way. According to my own mom and dad, they’d had two kids so that we could take care of each other. And now watching Dean take care of Sam, just made me realise that I’d left my own brother alone. No one to take care of him if something happened to our parents. I swallowed the lump and got back to work. I’d left one brother alone, I wasn’t gonna leave this one behind if I could help it.

Speaking of this one, Sam suddenly came in stumbling through the door. “Sam?” I asked. He looked guilty. Had he actually killed someone? “Sam, what happened?”

“I-i- uhh–” He stammered. His long fingers fidgeted with the threads on his shirt like he’d been caught stealing candy before midnight. “There’s cigarettes in your bike.”

I blinked. “Uhuh…?” Was Sam smoking?

“There’s also a bloody knife.”

Oh. Had I left one behind from a previous hunt? I frowned. I was usually particular about cleaning it out before retiring for the night. But then why did he look so… “Oh my God, Sam–”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill anyone–”

“Hey, hey,” I reached up and pulled his face down. “We don’t know that for sure, right?” He hunched over, pressing his cheeks against my palm. “Look, Sammy.” I kept my voice as gentle as I could. “It could have been anybody. Okay? Not your fault.” I brushed my hands through his long hair and he shuddered. “Where’s Dean and John?”

“Getting rid of them.” He whispered.

“Water?”

“Y-yeah.”

I pushed him down to sit on the bed and unscrewed the cap with more force than I’d hoped it would take. He downed the entire thing and wiped his mouth. “I’m gonna call Jessica.” I said gently. “Just let her know you’re here and okay.”

“But I might have–”

“Sam.” I lowered my voice to sound more stern. “We don’t know anything for sure. Jessica is worried. She deserves to know that you aren’t dead.” He nodded weakly, but relented. I sighed. “You wanna talk to her instead?”

“No,”

His voice was quiet, weak. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Sam.” I took to making the beds instead. Something to keep the feeling in my gut that said all of this was wrong . I didn’t want to make false promises either. Just in case… just in case Sam really had already gone dark side.

“Hey,” I heard Dean say from the open doorway. Sam and I glanced up. “We think we have a lead.” He held up a crumpled receipt. “Few towns over.” He looked between us. “Up for a ride?”

 

We decided it was best if I didn’t ride my own bike nearby. ‘In case someone recognises it,’ Dean had said. And ‘in case Sammy killed someone on it’ remained unsaid.

It had been a while since I’d seen John’s giant truck behind us. It felt nice. A little suffocating maybe because John’s jaw twitched every time Dean and I got a little too close. I felt like a high school girl bringing her date home for the first time. At least he wasn’t complaining I supposed.

“All right. Receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two.” Dean said as we piled out of the Impala. “You getting any, uh, any goosebumps yet? God, this looks familiar, deja vu vibes?” Sam shook his head.

John joined us just a moment later. “Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on.” He led us into the convenience store.

“You!” The clerk barked the second Sam walked in. “Outta here now, I'm calling the cops.”

Dean, John, and I glanced around at each other, before all our eyes landed on Sam. “You talking to him?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging it.”

“This guy? You're drinking malt liquor?”

That was not a Sammy thing to do. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s like him at all.” I defended him.

“What are you talking about? He whipped the friggin' bottle at my head.” The man scowled and waved his hands in the air. “Tell your story walkin', pal. Po-po will be here in five.”

Well. I cleared my throat and leaned on the counter. “So, uh, buddy.” I slid a fifty across the grimy counter. “Put the phone down yeah?” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Sam, go wait in the car.”

“But–”

“Come on Sammy.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dean grab Sam by the shoulder and steer him out of the store.

I swept my hair over one shoulder, stretching out my neck just a little. A little skin always got the men a little less defensive. “Now, when he took off yesterday, where did he go?”

The man put the phone down. “Why don't you ask him?”

“'Cause we’re asking you.” John intimidatingly placed a hand next to mine on the counter.

I stuck out my bottom lip. “Pretty please? You'd be doing us a huge favor.”

The guy nodded appreciatively for a second. “You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze. Okay? Or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up.” He pointed to the back of ‘no smoking’ sign stuck to the glass walls.

John was taken aback. “You saw him smoking?”

“Yeah.” The man snorted. “Guy's a chimney.”

“Oh yeah?” I caught the end of a lock of hair and twirled it around my finger. It was silky smooth as it wrapped and released around my finger, even though I hadn’t combed it all day. Oh, right. I should probably brush it at some point today. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“He took two packs.” The man’s eyes were glued to my hair. Meh. I'd done worse for information.

“Oh yeah?” I gave John a quick ‘get out’ look, but the man refused to budge. He just kept his eyes glued like a hawk on the clerk. I gave his knee a quick nudge, and he retreated to the back. Welp. looks like I was gonna have to do it in front of my father-in-law. I stuck out my tongue to lick my finger, and reached over the counter. I grabbed a napkin from the corner and a pen from the guy’s breastpocket. His breath hitched. “What else?” I scribbled down the first three random numbers I could come up with that looked like an area code.

“He went north.” Three more digits. “Route 71, straight out of town.”

I finished the rest of the string of numbers and topped it with a heart. “Call me.” It took every ounce of strength in me to not cringe as I left the guy red faced with a wink. And of course, not before I grabbed a few bags of chocolates on the way out.

 

I lounged in the backseat, licking up melted chocolate from my fingers, and wiping it off on my jeans. Dean’s hand reached back occasionally, silently demanding chocolate. Sam finally couldn’t handle it and turned around in the passenger’s seat.

“Okay, me too.” He held out a hand.

“What?” I bit into another one.

“I want one too. You can’t hog all the Kit Kats.”

“Dean has some. Ask him.”

“But he’s not giving me any. And you’re the one with the bag.”

“So? I deserve half the bag. I had to work for it.” I shooed him away. “Ask your brother to split the other half.”

“Hell no. That's my wife. What’s hers is mine.” Dean said stubbornly. But before he could take another bite, Sam had snatched it from his hand and the Impala swerved violently as Dean tried to steal it back. John’s truck honked from the back and the three of us winced. “Another one, sweetheart.”

“No. Mine.” I turned away and quickly shoveled the last one into my mouth. “Ask Sam. He's hiding three.”

Sam whipped around, his eyes wide with betrayal. Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on Sammy. Just hand ‘em over.”

“No, work for it yourself.”

Dean pressed his lips into a line. Before attacking Sam directly. Man, what a petty brother. “What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you.” But beneath all that sarcasm was a tinge of worry.

Sam never responded because he tugged on Dean’s arm. “Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road.”

Dean slowed down to the speed limit. “What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

As we pulled onto a private stretch of road, I put away the chocolates and sat up straighter. More alert. My gun was right behind me, and Dean and Sam right in front. Not to mention, John was flanking us now too.

The house at the end of the road was big and fancy, bordering on mansion. But it was overgrown with vines and all kinds of plants. The grass was tall enough to brush my knees and the road we’d taken here had clearly seen better days.

“What’re you kids waiting for?” John grunted. He didn’t falter in his steps as he approached the rundown mansion. Dean and I tugged Sam along. I ignored the eyes of the million security cameras and the emergency lights. I had to loosen my grip on Sam’s sleeve when he looked down at the spot where we were connected. Whatever they held, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

 

The floor was covered in broken glass as we hopped over the sharp glass edges of whatever was left of the window. John was already calling for us further down the hall.

“Hit the lights.” He said as we shuffled to the door.

Dean flipped them on, and we were met with a body on the floor. Blood pooled all around it. I winced at the sight. Yeah, no amount of first aid and CPR was gonna save this guy. With a nudge of his boot, John had the body rolled onto his back, and the true horrors were revealed. Sam had probably done that. I nearly gagged, which prompted Dean to block the sight of the corpse from me. Sam turned away, his head in one hand as he tried to steady himself with shaky breaths.

The body had already stiffened. The man’s throat had been sliced open. And it wasn’t just a shallow slice either. No, this slice was meant to hurt, and the corpse’s face was now frozen in anguish, its eyes blown wide from pain and the mouth stretched wide as the man had probably tried to scream for help.

“I did this.” Sam finally said.

“We don’t know that.” John’s voice was sure.

“What else do you need?” Sam snapped. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood–”

“We don’t have evidence.”

Sam bristled. “Dad! It’s obvious I did this! So why don’t you just get rid of me, huh? I’m no better than the monsters we hunt!”

“Sam!” John yelled. He turned around with a glare. “There is no evidence!” He sighed. “You kids keep looking around. See what you can find.” He marched off into the hallway. “I thought I raised you better than that.” He mumbled.

“Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a good reason;” Dean started rambling. “You know, self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something.”

But Sam wasn’t even listening. “Lockpick.”

“Huh?”

“I need your lockpick.” Sam held out his hand.

Dean produced one from somewhere in his flannel. “What for?”

Sam took it from him, and without another word, he started picking at a locked closet door.

“You wanna see his underwear collection?” I tried to joke. “It won’t be funnier than Dean’s scooby doo ones.”

“Or your barbie ones.”

I huffed. “I’m not gonna apologise for loving a fashionable career woman.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m not gonna apologise for loving that dog.”

“Guys.” Sam finally said. The wooden closet doors creaked open, and we were left with a giant secret room of firearms and clippings.

“Wow.” I said.

Dean, too, marveled at the sight. “Either this guy's a Unabomber–”

“Or a hunter.” Sam said quietly. “Guys, I think I killed a hunter.”

Dean glanced up at a security camera right by the closet door. “Let’s find out.”

 

John had managed to find a computer, but he’d also struggled to figure out how to open it for the past ten minutes.

“Give it to me.” I finally said. I kicked at his chair. “Come on John. I can do this faster.”

Dean sat on the table next to the laptop, watching his brother pace the length of the room over and over again. John just glared intently at the computer.

“Which camera?” I asked Dean.

“The one in the fifth bedroom.” He pointed to a small footage on the corner of the screen. “That one.”

I clicked on it to maximise the footage. Sure enough, the corpse was right where we’d left it. With a few more buttons and a befuddled staring John, I had the footage back to when Sam was fighting with the man.

“Holy shit.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. The three Winchesters behind me audibly flinched. John closed his eyes and clenched his fist, Dean started pacing and Sam gripped the back of my chair like it was the only thing keeping him from taking his gun and shooting himself.

“I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him.” He gasped in a panic. He stumbled for his brother, seeking comfort like a broken child. And Dean, ever the parent, just held onto him.

“How do we get rid of this?” John asked quietly.

Deleting the file would leave traces behind. “Let’s just burn the whole place.” I grabbed the desktop and looked at the fireplace.

“Good fucking idea.” John muttered and started walking. “I’ll get the gasoline.”

Sam was still rambling. “His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter.” I knew that man. One of Bobby’s old acquaintances. I paled. This man was a hunter for sure.

Dean’s jaw clenched tighter. “Listen to me.” He said to Sam. “Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” He glanced at me. “We’re burning this shithole?”

I nodded. “Housefire. Secret arsonist? Not something we haven’t done before.” I grabbed the brothers and headed for the door. “John can light this place by himself.” I stared at the security cameras and everything else that had been staring us down when we’d driven in. “We gotta get rid of these.”

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry– I’m so sorry–” Sam choked.

“We don’t have time for that.” I snapped at him. “Get moving. Get rid of your prints, get the cameras, we’re burning every single thing.”

 

Once again, I was staring into the mirror at myself. The woman staring back at me looked worse. Overgrown facial hair that had no business on a lady’s face. Moisturiser left over from more than twenty four hours ago that I hadn’t had the time or energy to wash off. Hair so frequently brushed using my fingers in moments of stress that the tangles had reached up to my scalp even with the loose ponytail. My lips had cracked and peeled by themselves far enough that they stang without me even touching them. Their redness matched my eyes. I took in a shaky breath and splashed my face with the cold water. Yeah, never had I ever been more grateful for nonworking motel water heaters.

The cold soothed the tired flush of my cheeks and it trickled down my neck, giving me some relief against the salty stressed out sweat. It even helped with the horrendous morning breath I’d acquired overnight. And yet, I didn’t feel any better. What the hell was wrong with Sam? Something was wrong with Sammy and it wasn’t getting better. This vaguely smelled like an episode, but I couldn’t remember any important piece of information. My heart rate was going haywire. I recognised this feeling as oh so familiar panic. Except I wasn’t panicking if I’d closed the garage door when I’d left Bobby’s for work or if I’d left the stove on overnight. No, this was ‘we’re gonna fucking die from Sammy’ panic. And I felt guilty as hell. That kid had been nothing short of soft and sweet. He’d had his terrorising moments like the time he’d threatened me in that Victorian hotel, but even then I’d been able to tell he was all bark and no bite. But this Sammy had bitten. Not us, but he’d still bitten. Still, not us. Not us. He wouldn’t harm us. I’d had to give him that much credit. Right?

 I swept my uneven layers from my face. The water let them stay slicked back and I took in another breath. Alright. Before John could get back, I wanted to catch a shower and a power nap. Because the second he got back from his act of arson, we’d be back to running.

I heard a thump from behind the bathroom door. Had someone fainted? I slipped my tank top back on and opened the door. “Is everything okay?”

The last thing I saw was the side of a gun and the hazel of Sammy’s empty eyes.

 

“Hey, hey!”

I woke up with a startle. I gasped as I tried to readjust my sight to the blurry world and the noises and light of the day started pouring in. “Dean?” I blinked in confusion.

He helped me sit up before asking me grimly. “You alright?”

I reached behind my head. Just a lump on the back, and on the side where the gun had hit me. And my vision was already clearing, and my hearing was coming back without the ringing. “I’m fine.”

“Awesome.” He said, but it lacked the mirth he usually said it with. “We’re gonna get moving.”

“Sammy.” I breathed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean’s hand was steady as he helped me stand up.

“I have a location.” John said as he walked in. “Duluth, Minnesota.”

“Duluth?”

“Isn’t that where the Roadhouse is?” I suddenly piped up.

John sighed. “You’re right.”

Dean’s lips parted slightly. “You know where the Roadhouse is?”

I smacked his arm. “Gimme five minutes to get ready, and we can be off.”

As I walked back into the bathroom now with a purpose, I couldn’t help but wonder. What the actual hell was going on?

 

The second John stepped through the entrance of the Roadhouse, Ellen was on him. Her fists slammed against the man, and despite the size difference, John was pushed up and gasping for breath on a wall. Truth be told, if John fought back, Ellen would probably last maybe five minutes before she got taken down.

“Where’s my daughter?” She hissed angrily.

Jo? Had something happened to Jo? The question must have been written all over my face as well as Dean’s because Ellen turned her furious eyes on us, releasing John just slightly. “Do you two have any idea? Are you guys behind this?!” But I could hear the doubt in her voice.

“What happened to her?” John asked softly.

Ellen slammed his shoulder back against the wall. “I don’t know. I’m asking you, you son of a bitch. First you take my husband from me, and now your son is trying to take my daughter. What the fuck is wrong with your family?”

“What do you mean Sam took Jo?” Dean whispered. “He wouldn’t hurt her. She’s a friend.”

“Well,” Ellen spat. “Ask that to the cameras that caught him dragging her out screaming.”

John stiffened. “Sam would never do that.”

Yeah, the Sam we knew would never do that. My hand drifted to the lumps on my head. The Sam we knew would also never hit me on the head like that. Something was terrifyingly wrong here.

Ash poked his head out of his room. “She’s not lying.” He walked out with a laptop balanced on one arm.

Dean cleared his throat. “You have a location on him?”

Ash narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Ash.” I said. He looked at me. “Sam’s not himself right now. We need to know where he is. Before this gets worse.” Like he hadn’t already murdered some hunter chap. But we couldn’t let anyone else know. My heart hammered against my chest. If Ellen, Jo, and Ash turned on us, I wouldn’t be surprised. The Winchester family head had screwed up the Harvelle family in more ways than one. I wouldn’t blame Ellen if she shot us right now with the gun tucked in her back pocket.

“If I tell you where he is, promise to bring Jo back?” That was probably the most heartfelt thing I’d ever heard from Ash.

I nodded. “I promise.”

“Ellen.” John said gently.

She gave him a final shove against the wall, but ultimately released him. “If I don’t get my daughter back then you can consider yourself dead, John fucking Winchester.”

John’s palms flexed. “You got it. We’ll bring her back.”

“Who said you’re going?” Ellen walked behind a bar. “Sit your ass down. I don’t trust you to bring back Jo.”

“But–”

“Jo grew up without a father.” Ellen hissed. She slammed a glass down on the bar. “I’ll be damned if I have to live without a daughter.” She placed her hands on the counter and glared at John who sat still as a stone statue. “What do you want?”

 

Dean hadn’t even finished pushing up the window completely open when I climbed in headfirst. I didn’t need a lot of space compared to the Winchesters. I dusted off my jeans and gripped my gun. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was just enough light seeping through the cracks in the wood of the cabin that I wouldn’t need to turn on a flashlight. Didn’t wanna alarm Sam just yet.

I crept along the old wood, stepping as gently as I could so as not to warn its inhabitants. But its inhabitants had no qualms about announcing their existence, considering there was yellow light spilling out of a cracked doorway.

“Hey.” Dean whispered next to me. Years of living with a brother had trained me to not jump out of my skin even if my heart bounced up to my throat.

I glanced back in acknowledgement. I didn’t trust myself to be quiet enough.

“You see Jo?” He mouthed.

“And Sam.” I mouthed back.

“Like Daddy like daughter.” That sounded like Sam’s voice, but it felt wrong . “You're bait. Open up.”

Yeah, no. That wasn’t Sam.

My gun entered the room first, and Sam turned around, cool as a cucumber. “Sharon.” He smiled too wide. He reached for a knife embedded in the pillar above Jo. His wide smile quickly morphed into a look of begging. “Shoot me.”

“Put the knife down, dammit.” Dean brushed against my shoulder, his gun aimed at Sam’s shoulder. Just like mine were aimed at the younger brother’s feet.

“I begged you guys to stop me.” Sam raised his arms, leaving his chest wide open. “I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Just kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me.”

No. My finger was on the trigger, but it just wouldn’t fricking move. My aim wasn’t even meant to kill. It would just make Sam stumble, and from there on it would just be stop the bleed along with stop the man. Nothing Dean and I hadn’t done before. It was routine. Pulling my gun out and shooting had become second nature to me over the past ten years. And yet, when it came to immobilising Sam, I couldn’t even hold my gun straight without my hands shaking.

Next to me, Dean was having the same problem. “No, Sammy, come on.” Just then, a flash of black flickered across Sam’s eyes. He was possessed. That was all the confirmation I needed.

I shot. Sam collapsed onto his knees, gripping the place where the bullet had cut a clean hole through his jeans and embedded itself in his ankle.

Dean grabbed a flask from his flannel and threw it at Sam. He hissed and ducked his head as the holy water sizzled on the skin on his neck and shoulders. “That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch!”

I darted past the now growling Sam and grabbed Jo by the shoulders. “Hey.” I forced her to look down at me. “Look at me, Jo. Just look at me. Alright?” I managed to get her out of her bonds and smacked her shoulder. “Go, go. Run.”

“What about–”

“RUN!” I pushed her again, and she bolted on shaky legs.

“Sharon!” Dean suddenly yelled.

I turned around, only to be staring down the open end of a gun. Great. My life was great. Or had been great. I was gonna die. “Sam.” I breathed.

“Put the fucking gun down.” Dean demanded. “Put it down or I shoot!”

“See, but you won’t, Dean.” Sam smiled.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, Dean.”

My head spun from the panic. I was gonna die. Again. Not shredded to ribbons by hellhounds, but shot by some crazy demon possessing my second brother. “Dean.” I whispered. I caught his eye from beside Sam’s shoulder. They were wide with panic.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” He promised.

“Is she?” Sam cocked his head. Well it wasn’t really Sam was it?

“Who are you?” I asked. Anything to keep my mind off of the fact that I was gonna die a second time. And to buy enough time for Dean or me to figure out our next move.

“I got lots of names.”

Dean seemed to be using a similar tactic. “You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?”

“You should have seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic.”

“Why didn't you kill us? You had over a dozen chances.”

“No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that?” He faked a shudder. “Besides, John Winchester was breathing down my neck, I couldn’t just be direct. He would have put up a decent fight compared to you two.” He grinned. Again. Too wide. “See, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Should have known you wouldn't have the sac. Anyway. Fun's over now.”

“Well, I hope you got your kicks. Because you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that.”

“How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. And your tiny wife.” the demon chuckled. “See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and Sharon and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door.”

I was so done with this guy talking like I wasn’t in the room. I ducked and struck out with my leg. It hit Sam’s injured ankle and he went stumbling. Dean rushed forward to tackle Sam. In theory it should have worked, but demons didn’t exactly feel pain the way we did. Sam’s arm shot out to grab his gun and a shot rang out. Warm liquid poured over my hands and I looked down at my hip. The left one had been torn open. Solid white poked out from what was left of my flesh. But no pain. Just the ringing in my ear, Sam’s cold laugh, and Dean calling my name. And of course, red hot white flashes across my vision. Though they were fading fast into limitless black.

 

“Breathe, Sharon, breathe.” I heard above my head. Small hands were on the pulse of my neck, pressing lightly. To kill me? I tried to raise my arms to defend myself but they refused to move.

“Hey, hey, hey. We’re not trynna hurt you.” a gentle feminine voice whispered through the fog. “Just relax, okay?” The gentle hand traced comforting circles on my arm instead. “I’m just trynna check your pulse.”

“Sweetheart. Just let her, alright?” Dean I recognised even through the ringing. “You’re gonna be okay.” Well, if he said it was okay then it must be okay.

Those long fingers fluttered back down to my neck. Not enough to cut off circulation. Just there, feeling.

“Breathe.” the voice said again. “In, two, three. Out, two, three… like that Dean?”

“Yeah like that. Keep it up. We’re almost there.”

It took a lot of effort to open my eyes to see who was guiding me through my breaths. I was met with a petrified young face with glistening blue eyes. Jo. Jo Harvelle. I was gonna be fine. I trusted her enough.

 

“Sleeping Beauty is awake.” Dean’s voice was teasing with a tinge of concern. And maybe tiredness.

“Mm.” I groaned. My head was swimming. And I was too tired to even form words. It felt like I’d been dosed up on some kind of strong painkiller. Probably illegally acquired.

There was a dull throb in my left hip. I lifted my blankets to check. I looked down and saw the thick bandages running across my middle. A loose skirt had been draped over my hip, and it seemed to be the only thing along with the bandages that was keeping my hip together. And a bunch of stitches. I knew the burn of so many dulled by morphine or something well enough to know I’d been stitched.

“Will it scar?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

“It’ll scar.” Dean said softly. “But it won’t make you any less hot.”

I snorted. Bad idea. My face scrunched at the intensified throbbing. “Son of a–” I bit my tongue.

Dean snickered. “You should get some more sleep princess.”

“Gotta get Sam.” I gasped out.

“Uhh. About that.” Sam looked up sheepishly from the couch.

The couch. Where was I? I glanced around and realised I was laying on Bobby’s couch. Again. “Bobby?” I blinked.

“Glad to see you’re up.” He huffed. He stuck out a leg to keep Rumsfeld from crossing over the dog gate he’d installed.

“He’s in the kitchen.” I pointed out. Bobby hated dogs in the kitchen. Got all dirty.

“He kept tryna jump you.” Bobby ruffled Rumsfeld’s hair one last time and came over with a glass of water. “Water?”

Yeah, I was parched. “So Sam.” I craned my head to see the younger man.

“Hi.” he said lamely.

“Hi.” I looked him up and down. There was a bandage wrapped around his forearm. But otherwise he looked whole. His eyes a little haunted, his usual chipperness gone, but he looked alright. “You good?”

“I’m good.” He gave a weak smile. “Thanks for asking.”

It was then that I noticed a charm hanging around his neck. Dean had one too. “What’s that.”

“Anti possession.” Dean answered. “You got one too, sweetheart.”

I glanced back down and true enough, I had one around my neck that had flopped onto the worn pillows.

“Oh my God, you’re awake.” I heard a woman say. I looked up and it was sweet sweet Jessica.

“Hi.”

Her lower lip wobbled, but it steadied real fast. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Yeah.” Sam whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done if I killed you.”

“It’s alright.” I shifted.

“Sharon– seriously, I didn’t mean to– I was awake in there. And I couldn’t do anything when I–” He choked up.

I reached out and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay.” I trusted him. Even if every time I looked into his eyes I wondered if they would flash black. I forced back a shudder. Those empty pits of black had reminded me of Hell. I'd been too caught up in the situation to really feel the fear, but now that I thought about it… yeah I was terrified. Still, he had the anti possession charm. And that would have to be enough to convince me he wasn’t possessed.

 

Sam and Jessica were locked at the lips in the scrap yard. Dean and I just watched. “Were we as cheesy as that?” He asked.

I shrugged. “Man, I sure hope not.”

“What a sap.” Dean snorted when Sam placed his jacket on a rusted hood and lifted Jessica onto it.

Yeah. Sappy. But romantic. The scene looked like it was straight out of a teen romance novel. “We probably looked like that, though.” I looked up and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I don’t look half as lame as he does.” He said, but there was fondness in his tone.

Rumsfeld was still sitting on my lap, licking and panting at every inch of bare skin he could find. Dean had balled up a blanket and placed it on my injured hip, so that the dog could slobber and pad all over me with his claws without ripping me a new wound.

“Yeah.” Bobby said, wandering in. “You two looked worse.” He passed Dean a beer and me a soda. “You couldn’t keep your hands off her, boy.”

“Not my fault she kept me abstinent for two years!” Dean protested.

I huffed. “I wanted commitment.” Back when I’d thought I could fix this world.

I let the cold of the bottle seep in through my hands. Rumsfeld whined and pawed at the drink, but I raised it up higher. “No boy. Down, boy.” I chided. The pup kept whining before turning to Dean.

“Oh no.” He shot up and started running. “Bobby! Your beast is chasing me!” Dean leapt over the dog gate in the kitchen and stood on the other side. Meanwhile, Rumsfeld sat down and wagged his tail.

I grinned. “Dean Winchester. Trapped by a dog.”

“I just don't want dog slobber all over me.” Dean straightened up and fixed his crooked jacket. “You hear me?” He said accusingly to the dog. “I’m gonna step over this fence. And you better not try to lick me. And this beer is mine.”

“Dean.” Bobby deadpanned. “It’s a dog .”

“Uhuh. A furry smelly one.”

“Sounds like any other dog.” I laughed.

Bobby sighed before clicking his tongue, prompting Rumsfeld to perk up and follow him instead, away from Dean.

“Hey.” Sam poked his head in through the front door. “When’re we leaving?”

“Soon as you let go of your girlfriend.” Dean smirked.

And sure enough, Sam still had a hand on Jessica’s waist. Oh, young love. “Real funny Dean. You should have seen you and Sharon when you guys got married.”

Bobby snorted and Dean bristled and I blushed.

The phone rang again and Bobby groaned.

“Wait, stay there, Bobby.” I slowly pushed myself off the couch. Dean’s eyes were immediately on me, and I could feel the rest of the house watching. “I’ll get it.” The regular phone was ringing. Using the edge of the dining table for balance, I picked it up. “Hello, this is Sharon speaking.”

“Bobby’s girl?”

“Yep. Rocky?”

The man laughed. “You remembered me!” He sighed wistfully. “Still remember when you were green… Now I hear you married John’s kid and hunting full time? Oh how you kids grow up so quick…” His voice trailed off when I responded with nothing but a light chuckle. “As shy as ever. Good to know, good to know… By the way… You heard anything from Steve Wandell?”

The guy Sam had killed. I caught Sam looking confused at me. “No. Sorry, can’t say he’s reached out.” It was true. He hadn’t reached out in a while.

“His house was burned down.” Rocky continued. “Definitely arson. All his cameras burned. Not a single one left. Whoever did this was thorough.” The Winchesters were always thorough. I just hoped he didn’t catch onto this.

“I’m so sorry man.” I said instead. “You two were buddies?”

“Yeah…” He cleared his throat. “Let me know if you find anything, yeah? I’ve got a few more people searching for him. But I’d appreciate it if you and Bobby could keep an eye out. Ask John too!”

“Thanks. I will.” I hung up as soon as the man was done saying ‘bye’.

“Who was it?” Bobby asked.

“Rocky.” I answered. “He was asking about Steve Wandell.”

Sam paled. “Dean–”

“Never heard of him.” Dean responded. He crossed his arms and stood his ground.

“Good. Keep it that way.” Bobby looked at Sam. “Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?”

Sam’s hand slipped off Jessica. Jessica herself looked pale, terrified. Looking like she was starting to doubt everything. Her relationship with Sam. how safe Sam really was. Or maybe that was just me projecting. She was loyal. Always had been. She kissed Sam like he was an ordinary man and brought out the more unruly side of him that even an unruly Dean couldn’t bring out. But… just how much more of this pain was she gonna be able to take?

Notes:

Um. Exam tomorrow. I'm cooked. yay. mice have cute brains tho.

Chapter 41: Tall Tales

Summary:

"“Aliens?” Jessica’s mouth fell open.
“Aliens.” I confirmed.
“Aliens?” Bobby whispered again.
“Aliens.”
“Aliens.” John repeated.
“Aliens.”"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Smut at the end (it's terrible).
2. kinda toxic? idk i've never been in a relationship.
3. uhh, this is a fever dream.
4. WE STAY DELULU

Tall Tales

“Dean. No. We're not buying more Takis.” I told the man for the millionth time as he stared down a row of them at a small Walmart.

“But I need sustenance.” He didn’t even look at me.

“Dean.” I sighed. “ Look at the cart.” I gestured uselessly towards the billions of snacks he’d dumped into his. “There’s-there’s like- thirteen kinds of candies and more than enough beer to kill five humans.”

Dean shrugged. “You like Takis.” And he picked one up anyway.

Bruh. “No.” I glanced at the kettle cooked Jalapeno chips instead. “I want those.”

He threw in the Takis and a packet of the Jalapeno chips. “Done.”

“Dean. You still can’t have all those Takis.”

He scoffed. “It’s not like it’ll kill me.”

“No, but it’ll give you cancer and then I’ll be a widow by forty.”

He cracked a smile. “Didn’t you always want your husband to die early so you could get his life insurance?” He brushed my hand off the cart and started pushing it himself.

I rolled my eyes. “That was then. This is now. And. It was a joke. So that Sammy would stop asking me if I had a boyfriend.”

Dean was already turning for the checkout lines.

I grabbed the front of the cart and steered him away. “Enough of snacks. We need actual essentials for living.” The hygiene aisle was, unfortunately, across the women’s underwear section. I tried to ignore Dean’s eyes digging into the cups and the thongs, and then flitting back to me, as if picturing how I would look like with them on. But no. The wires dug into my skin, and the lace made me itch. And thongs just looked like they would give me a wedgie. Besides, I was a hunter now. Hunters didn’t really wear inconvenient fancy stuff like that. If I ever had to strip to get a wound treated I would rather not be showing off more skin than absolutely necessary. To Dean’s credit, he didn’t linger longer in the section, and he didn’t ask me to buy a set of lingerie.

But he did complain about the products I was buying. “You still haven’t run out of that facewash.”

“It expired a month ago, Dean. I'll break out if I keep using it.”

“Another bottle of shampoo? Didn’t you buy one two months ago?”

“I have a lot of hair, Dean. And Sam stole half of it. That damn brat.”

“My toothbrush is still working.”

“The rule of thumb is to replace it every three months. And I’m ninety percent sure Sam has thrown up on it.”

Until I got to the more unnecessary things.

“I thought you had five lipsticks.”

“The shades just don’t feel right anymore.”

“What do you mean which nail polish is better? They’re the same colour.”

“It’s cobalt blue versus starlight blue. They’re very different things.”

“That eyeshadow palette has more shades. Just get that one.”

“I’m too sensitive to the materials that brand uses.”

In the end, we walked out with ten bags each.

“What do you mean, another store?” Dean threw his hands in defeat.

“They didn’t have the brand of pads I like!” I groaned. “And I still need–”

“Dammit woman.” Dean sighed and threw our packages inside. “What else do you need, huh? A curling iron? Another new dress that looks the same as every other one? Yeah, go buy another stinking plushie because that’s gonna keep the nightmares away.”

“Oh, shut up, Dean.” I hissed. “I’m the only one in this family who even does the important stuff. Laundry pods? I got them. Folding clothes? All me. Making sure you and Sam don’t starve to death or die of alcoholism? News flash! All me! You don’t even stitch the holes in your shirts!”

“I never asked you to!”

“Well, you sure as hell do when you ask me ‘where’s my sock?’ like you’re not a grown man yourself that can search for a stupid sock–”

“Well, guess what sweetheart. Sam and I lived alone all our who lives. So if you want us to keep saving your ass–”

“Saving my ass?! I went to Hell for this damn family!”

“Don’t you bring that up–”

“Then fine!” My foot struck out, and hit Baby square in the wheel.

Dean bristled. “ Don’t take it out on her.”

“You always did love this ugly car more than me.” I spat and stomped off. The audacity of that bastard.

“You wanna walk home on those two tiny feet princess?” Dean called.

I turned around and did something I hadn’t done in a long long time. I flipped off Dean Winchester and walked on my own ‘two tiny princess feet’ myself.

 

We slept in different beds that night. Dean had put in his reds with my whites and now every white piece of fabric I owned had a terrible pink dye job. Even that soft snow white one he liked when I wore it. Not my problem. The bra was still soft.

Sam had raised one amused brow before scooching over so I could curl up on his bed instead. Dean had fixed us both with a frown but rolled away on his side, preferring to stare at the window instead. Again. Not my problem.

“Please make up tomorrow morning.” Sam whispered to me once Dean had begun snoring.

I dismissed his plea with a wave of my hand. Not happening.

“I’ll leave the room.” Sam tried again. “You two can do it wherever you want. Both of you have a thing for the kitchen counter. I’ll clean it before–” He hissed when my foot connected with his shin. “Ow!”

“No.” I huffed and stole his blanket.

 

“Sharon!” Dean yelled. “Where the hell did you go?!”

“I’m trynna take a shower here!” I stuck my head out the bathroom. “What do you want?!”

He angrily raised a bag of chips. “The Jalapeno flavour is gone!”

That was mine! I snarled. “I said we could share ! Why did you finish it all?!”

“I didn’t!” He threw the empty packet at the small trash can in the room. “When did you even finish all of it?!”

“I’m telling you, I haven’t! I haven’t even had time to look at that damn thing because you kept leaving your candy bars unwrapped at the bottom of our bags!”

“I didn’t eat them.” He crossed his arms.

What a child. “Dean, you can admit it. I already had to clean up that-that horrible smelling thing anyway.”

“I didn’t leave them there!” He angrily marched towards the door. “I’m buying more candy.”

“We don’t have enough–” I clutched my towel to my chest. “Dean! We’ll go over the card limit!”

He stomped off with a bird flipped up. That damn man! I slammed the bathroom door shut and the doorknob from the other side fell off with a jingle. I looked up at the ceiling and groaned. Great, now we had to call the receptionist if Dean or Sam couldn’t fix it.

 

“Okay, seriously what is going on with you two now?” John stood glaring at the foot of my bed.

I crossed my arms and looked away, refusing to even glance in Dean’s general direction. “I dunno. Ask your son.”

John sighed. “Dean.”

“She’s being a sensitive little prick.” He mumbled.

The audacity of this–

“Whoah.” Sam grabbed my arm before it could go hurtling in Dean’s direction. “Let’s not kill each other.”

“You stay out of this!” I snapped and tried to get away. Sadly, Sam was a tad bit stronger and managed to keep my hands from swinging. That didn’t stop my legs though, and I landed one square in Dean’s ribs. “Hah!”

“Sharon.” Bobby’s voice was cold when it said my name. Oh hell. “Apologise.”

“Yeah, apologise.” Dean taunted, and my blood heated up again.

“Sharon.” Bobby warned.

“Ugh! Sorry!” I wrenched myself away from Sam and turned away again. Why was I being picked on!

“Okay, so how did it get to this?” Jessica finally asked us. She pointed to me and Dean. “you two are, like, never upset at each other. What happened?”

“Ask him!”

“Oh I’ll tell them what happened, sweetheart.” Dean spat. He turned to everyone in the room and started telling his version. “So we came across this obit of some guy that nose dived from the fourth storey. Turns out there’s a campus legend that the building is haunted. So we thought we oughtta check it out.” I rolled my eyes.

 

They’d been fighting for a while now. Sharon hadn’t looked at him at all the whole ride to the bar where they were supposed to be meeting up with a group of college kids for information. Fine by him. She was being a little princess anyway. It wasn’t his fault she hadn’t separated the reds from the whites.

“Yeah, we both had the professor for Ethics and Morality.” The pudgy guy asked. His eyes were on Sharon who was staring at the pretty girl sitting next to the guy. And said pretty girl was eyeing Sam. His skin bristled.

It wasn’t even like he could blame the guy for staring at his wife. She looked lovely with her hair balled up on top of her head and her neck covered by the turtleneck tank top she had on. She’d even put a little colour on her lips to cover up the dry cracks. She hadn’t worn anything other than a skirt in a few days because of her wound and it was all Dean could do to not lift it up and check out what coloured underwear she’d chosen for the day. Maybe it would be the baby pink one with a bow missing from the other side. Or maybe the worn out seashell one that had gotten bleached over the past few years. Hell, maybe she was wearing the scooby doo ones he’d once bought her as a joke.

Sam’s voice snapped him out of his daze. “Yeah? So why do you think he did it?”

“Who knows? I mean, he was tenured, wife and kids. His book is like a really big deal. Then again…” She leaned in closer to the table. Everyone leaned in, but Dean leaned back on his chair. He wasn’t childish like them. “Who's to say it was suicide?”

Sam gasped dramatically like a princess. “Well, what else could it be?”

“Well, you know about Crawford Hall?”

“No, I don't, actually.”

“It's a bunch of crap, it's a total urban legend.” The guy told Sharon. She nodded, way too invested in this piece of crap.

“Yeah well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl.” the girl pointed out.

“Oh my!” Sharon’s hands flew to her mouth. “What girl?”

“Thirty years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself.” The girl’s hands flew as she told the story. Dean held back a roll of his eyes. It sounded like any other horror story. Maybe the old man just wanted to die. Sharon and Sam continued their exaggerated gasping. Yeah, he was so done.

“You know her name?”

“No. But they say she jumped from room six-six-nine. Get it?” The girl looked at all of them. “You turn the nine upside down?”

Sharon nodded solemnly. “Like a sign of bad things.”

“Exactly.” The girl leaned back and sipped her drink. “So now she haunts the building. And anyone who sees her? They don't live to tell the tale.”

“Well if no one lives to tell the tale then how does the tale get told?”

Uhuh. Sure. Only Sharon would be swayed by that tale.

“Well if no one lives to tell the tale then how does the tale get told?” The guy scoffed.

Huh. Maybe he’d misjudged him. This pudgy guy actually had a brain.

“Shut up!” the girl swatted his arm.

Sharon shot up now that the tale was over.

Sam stood up. “You know what? Uh, thanks a lot guys. Excuse us.”

Sharon strode past him and he felt the guy’s eyes still following her. He swallowed. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing just a little bit of her rainbow shorts, but she looked as clueless as ever.

“Hey, why don’t we, uh, grab a drink.” Dean said casually.

Sharon didn’t look at him, but Sam turned around with a smirk. “Sorry man, gotta, uh, help out Bobby with somethin’.” His brother grinned when Dean gave a fist pump of triumph. “Sharon, why don’t you stay?” He patted her on the shoulder. “One of you needs to stay sober so you two get back home.” And he scurried off.

The guy sometimes got the hint.

 

“Okay, hold on.” I raised my hand. “That is not how the night went.”

Bobby groaned. Sam face palmed. John shook his head. “Then tell us your version.” Jessica, ever the sweet woman, asked.

I cleared my throat.

 

Dean hadn’t even a single thought on his brain when he’d slapped a hand down on my butt. I looked up at him with a glare, but the guy was already on his fourth beer and was slightly red in the face. “Alright, that’s enough.” I tried to take the bottle from him, but he held it up way above my head.

Bruh. “Dean.” I sighed. “We need to get home. You’re driving, right? Don’t get drunk out of your mind yet.”

“I’m not drunk.” Dean reminded me. “My head’s barely buzzin’.”

No Winchester ever got drunk off of four bottles did they? I swiped at the bottle again. “Dean. No.”

He placed his bottle on the table and leaned down. He reeked of alcohol, but he looked as attractive as ever. “What you gonna do, sweetheart?” His voice was playful and his teeth were nipping at my ear. I’d almost –

 

“Too much information.” John deadpanned. Oh, right. I fought the blush on my neck.

“Just-just get on with it.” Bobby shuddered.

 

But then some skank in a glittery golden dress placed her nine inch nails on my husband’s arm.

“Hey there, handsome.” She slid into the chair next to him, and Dean dared to crane his neck towards her. “Need someone more fun to play with?”

Her thong was visible from under her skirt and I was just about ready to throw hands. I wasn’t gonna judge a woman for dressing liberally, but if she was gonna place her hands on a married man then I had every right to judge the way she breathed. And she breathed too loudly.

“They’ve got these purple nurples here.” She beckoned a bartender over with the curl of a finger. “Wanna take a few shots with me?”

Dean gave me a glance. His tipsy behind must have assumed my silence meant ‘yeah sure’ and not ‘oh hell no’ because he smiled at the brunette homewrecker. “‘Course. Was getting bored anyway.”

Bored??? I was there! He made me stay! I wanted to go back to our room and crash and sleep!

Before I knew it, the two of them were going through two rows of purple nurples– why did that sound so familiar? And I was just left sitting there like a side piece. I may as well have been the bottom of someone’s shoe. Yeah that was it. I slammed my hand down on the table and stalked off.

“Sharon! Sharon!” I could hear Dean’s desperate cries behind me, but a woman had her dignity.

 

“Objection.” Dean cut in. “That's not how that went.”

“You better be telling the truth boy. Because my gun is right here.” Bobby patted his belt.

John nodded along. “I thought I raised you better than this.”

Sam and Jessica shook their heads in disappointment.

As they all should! I was a tolerant woman but even I had my limits!

“For the last time. This is how it went.”

 

Dean was absolutely done with the day. He’d wanted to make up with Sharon somehow or the other. But she hadn’t even budged from her chair. Her soda had gone flat and Dean was already on his fourth. He sighed and nudged her with his foot. And she finally looked up. Her pretty lips parted in horror and she tried to grab his drink. “Alright, that’s enough.” He simply raised it up high. Her small hand landed on his knee and her body stretched to try and grab it. Man, she looked lovely with her face contorted in concentration. “Dean. We need to get home. You’re driving, right? Don’t get drunk out of your mind yet.”

How adorable. She was worried. He leaned down–

 

“Dean, you can skip that detail.” Sam covered his eyes like that would help him erase the mental image.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Pussies.”

 

A woman in a respectful dress approached him. She was bedazzled in golden, and even her brown hair had been threaded with tinsel. Wow. He respected the commitment to the colour. He glanced at his small wife sitting next to him with her eyes narrowed at this new woman. But like anyone could distract him from her. That woman’s golden outfit had nothing on Sharon’s obsession with the colour purple.

“They’ve got these purple nurples here.” She beckoned a bartender over with the curl of a finger. “Wanna take a few shots with me?”

Purple nurples… he figured Sharon would like the look of it. He glanced at her, and her eyes were on something beside his elbow. It looked like a purple nurple to him. So he went for it.

The girl next to him was a good drinker. She could toss back those shots like there was no tomorrow. And honestly? Dean was enjoying it. He hadn’t had a drinking buddy in so long. He was gonna reach for the third round, but suddenly the familiar soft presence next to him had disappeared.

He hopped off his stool and found her black bun instantly. “Hey!” He grabbed her arm and spun her around. Her face was drenched with tears and her bottom lip was wobbling–

 

“I wasn’t crying!” I shrieked. I had not been crying!

“Sure, sweetheart. Those stains on my shirt came from a dog’s drool.”

“I never cried!” I said pointedly. I didn’t cry that easy.

“I’m so glad I wasn’t there for this.” Sam winced.

“You two are bickering like you’re sixty.” Bobby scoffed.

Jessica hid a snort behind a cough.

I raised my hand again. “He put the reds with my whites and now everything I own is pink.”

“And she ate my chips.”

“They were my chips.”

“She said we were gonna share.”

“I didn’t even get to open the packet because I was stuck cleaning candy out of our bags!”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Yeah, well. At least sixty year olds have an excuse for arguing.” Sam jerked his head in our direction. “They’re old and bored. These two are young and frustrated and just two whiny bitches.”

“Then, Sam.” John turned to face Sam. “You tell us what happened.”

Sam squared his shoulders and started telling the rest of it. “While those two were duking it out I was asking around the haunted building. The janitor was more than happy to spill.”

 

“So, how long have you been working here?”

“I've been mopping this floor for six years. There you go,”

Sam looked up from his EMF as the janitor clicked the door open.

“What the fuck’s that for?” The guy asked.

Sam shrugged. “Just find a wire in the walls.”

“Huh. Wow. Not sure why you're wiring up this office.” The guy looked around and sighed. “Not gonna do the professor much good.”

Sam frowned. “So why’s that?”

“He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Sam faked surprise. “What happened?”

“He went out that window. Right there.”

Sam walked around the room like he was totally the maintenance guy. “Yeah? Were you working that night?”

“I'm the one who found him.”

“You see it happen?” Sam leaned out the window to look at the drop. Yeah, no guy was surviving that.

“No. I just saw him come up here, and uh, well.” The janitor looked around awkwardly.

Sam walked back to him seriously. “Well what?”

“He wasn’t alone.”

 

“So, as you guys see, I was the only one that got work done that night.” Sam gloated.

“Showoff.” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Shut up.” Jessica chided. She looked back at Sam, who smirked. “Continue.”

 

“He was with a young lady. I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her.”

Sam could sense that this was serious. The janitor was a good source of information. “You saw this girl go in, huh? Did you ever see her come out?”

“Now that you mention it, no.”

“You ever see her before? Around?”

“Well, not her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh…” The janitor leaned in close to whisper, “Mister Morality? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat.”

Sam chuckled. Yeah, he’d hit the jackpot. While his brother and sister were throwing a fit at some bar, he was working. A part of him resented them for it. “One more thing. This building… it only has four stories, right?” He might as well ask the final question. “So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?”

“‘Course not.” The janitor frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Nah, just curious.” Sam knew when to not push his luck.

 

“By the time I was at the motel, Sharon and Dean were already like this.” He gestured to me and Dean who hadn’t looked at each other all day.

“And this has been going on for how long?” Bobby tilted his head.

Sam shrugged. “I dunno. Like three days? The chocolate stuff happened yesterday.”

“The chips was this morning.” Dean complained.

“The laundry was two days ago.” I huffed. “My pretty white frock!”

“It’s a sundress!”

“It’s a frock!”

“We’re not about to fight over semantics.” John groaned. “Just continue, Sam.”

Dean shot up. “Why does he get to–”

One glare from his dad, and Dean slumped back. Hmph!

 

“Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure.” Sam said.

“And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap.” Dean passed him a beer.

Sam didn’t miss the way Sharon had to get up to grab her own soda from the mini fridge. “So what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?”

“That girl seemed weird.” Sharon hummed. She struggled with the cap of it. But she stubbornly refused to ask Dean for help even as he opened Sam’s for him. Sam sighed and passed her a bottle opener. Lo and behold, she somehow managed to slice the tip of her finger open. A bead of blood dripped onto the yellowed mattress, but Dean pretended to not notice the way she hissed and stuck her finger in her mouth. As annoying as it was when those two didn’t talk, it was peak entertainment. Until Dean tried opening his own beer and the whole thing exploded all over him, soaking into his hair.

“Sharon.” Dean said in a low voice.

“What?” She snapped.

“Did you shake my bottle?”

“When would I have time for that?” She tilted her own drink back. “I haven’t touched that thing since you put it in the freezer.”

“You could have shaken it.”

“I could have, but I didn’t.” She looked him up and down. “Maybe this is karma. You know?”

“Alright. Now gimme that.” He tried to snatch her drink from her. She held it away.

Dean clicked his tongue and chased after her through the motel room. She was smaller and lighter and rolled over the beds and crawled under the tables and chairs like she was back to being a teenager. Sam sipped his beer in amusement. Peak entertainment indeed. And he couldn’t help but smile at the way Dean never actually held her hand, especially the injured one, too tightly when he did catch up to her.

 

“I wasn’t worried!” Dean protested.

“Dean.” Everyone scolded and the man slumped back again in defeat. Hah!

 

“We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there.” Dean took a sip of his other unexploded beer.

“Yeah you’re right.” Sam opened up his laptop when Sharon poked his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Can you tell Dean to not have his boots on the bed?”

Sam glanced at Dean who was literally sitting a literal foot away from her. “Tell him yourself.”

Her jaw dropped open in horror. She vehemently shook her head.

Sam sighed. Why did he have to be the adult when those two were nearly four and five years older than him?

 

“Um. Excuse me.” I raised my hand again. “I am not that dramatic.”

“Yeah, she only spilled soda passive aggressively all over my shoes.” Dean snorted.

John stuck to the important bit. “But did you dig up anything about the building? Or on the suicidal co-ed?”

“No. History is clean.” Sam answered. Thank you!

“Then it's not a haunting.”

“Maybe not. Tell you the truth, we're not really sure.” Dean shrugged.

“What do you mean, you're not sure?” Bobby asked.

“Well it’s weird.” Sam continued.

“What’s weird?”

“This next part, we didn't see it happen ourselves,” I responded this time. Before Dean and Sam could convolute the story further. “But it's pretty freaking weird. Even for us.”

 

“You danced with an alien?” I said into the receiver. This sounded familiar.

“Yeah.” the chubby guy from the bar seemed to nod on the other side. “I got kidnapped and it-and it– Oh my God…!” He sniffled.

I reached for my gun to put it back on my thigh holster. “What happened?”

“The alien made me slow dance with it!”

 

“Aliens?” Jessica’s mouth fell open.

“Aliens.” I confirmed.

“Aliens?” Bobby whispered again.

“Aliens.”

“Aliens.” John repeated.

“Aliens.”

Bobby sighed for the millionth time. “Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people.”

“I know what I heard, Bobby.”

“My whole life I've never found evidence of an alien abduction.” John scoffed. “It's all just cranks and pranks.”

“Yeah, that's what I said.” I said. “But the guy sounded traumatised so I thought. Huh, how much of it could have been a lie? And then we found this.” I pulled out my phone and swiped to a picture of the circular scorch mark on the campus grass. “Then I hopped on the public school forums and voila, pudgy guy was a bully! He hazed the younger freshmen cause he was like the head of his frat or something.”

“Still doesn't make a lick of sense.” Dean’s knee bounced up and down. “But, hey, at least there's one connection.”

“Between what?” Sam asked.

“The victims. The professor and the frat guy– They're both dicks.”

“ That ’s a connection?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You got anything better? I’d love to hear it.” He continued bouncing his leg in that irritating rhythm. “Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed.”

“Dean stop that.” I stared at the bounce.

“What?”

“That. Whatever you’re doing with your knee. It’s annoying.”

“It’s not doing anything.” Now he was making the other knee bounce!

I clicked my tongue.

“I mean, these punishments-they're almost poetic.” Dean continued bouncing his damn knees. “Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still–”

“Stop with the knee.”

“My knee is fine.”

“Dean, stop bouncing your knee.” John finally said.

“Thank you.” I smirked.

“Sharon, stop getting annoyed at everything.” Bobby warned.

“Ughhh…”

“So, uh, there’s more.” Sam chimed. “There was one more victim. Now, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy– He was a research scientist. Animal testing.”

“Yeah, you know– A dick, which fits the pattern.”

I frowned. “Animal testing is sometimes necessary. You wanna be stabbed with 5 grams of fentanyl without knowing what dosage would kill a living being?”

“She’s being a dick too.” Dean glared at me. “I wonder if she’s gonna be next.”

I threw a pillow at him.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Sam, just tell us what happened with that researcher.”

 

Sam undid the window latch from the outside. Flashlights in hand, he crawled inside. Sharon followed, and Dean jumped in last.

They made their way to the wall of drawers and Sam winced. It smelled like formaldehyde times infinity. He hated the morgue sometimes.

Sharon grabbed one of the handles and pulled it out. Whatever the drawer contained was covered in a bloody white blanket. Her hands worked fast as she whipped it off with a simple wrinkle of her nose and opened up the boxes. “It’s like a fish market.” she commented.

Sam pretended like it was a normal thing to say when one saw a box of mangled human remains.

“This is just nasty.” Dean hissed. That, Sam could agree with. “Mutilated…”

“Someone was hungry.” Sam winced when Sharon snapped on three gloves on each hand.

“They identify this guy?”

“Yeah. A research scientist at the college. Guess where his office was, by the way.” Sam looked at the two of his siblings. “Crawford Hall, Same as the professor.”

“Chubby guy was also from Crawford Hall.” Sharon commented.

“Of course she would know that.” Dean huffed.

“The hell?” Sharon suddenly said.

“What?” Sam walked over to peer over her shoulder.

“Alligator scales.” She picked up a scale with a pair of tweezers.

“In where?” Sam tried to wrack his brain. “The sewers?”

“An alligator in the sewer.” Dean laughed dryly. “Come on.”

Sam suddenly remembered a strange tale. “It's a classic urban legend. A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels.”

“But no one's ever really found one. They're not real.”

“Neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy.”

“This couldn't get any weirder.”

“We should call in backup.” Sharon took off her gloves and rolled the corpse back into its drawer. “Maybe a few more brains will help.”

 

“And then I find a hooker’s number in Dean’s wallet.” I could feel my bottom lip start to wobble. Dammit. I wasn’t gonna cry because my husband got someone’s number.

Dean tried to reach out to me, but I shifted away. He could reach out for some tall legged 20FF redhead hooker with the fakest ass for all I cared.

“Okay, I’ve heard enough.” Bobby held up a hand to ensure silence all across the room. “Sharon. Dean didn't get that hooker’s number.”

I scoffed. “Man supporting man of course.” I kicked at the blankets. “How else would it get there?”

“And Dean, Sharon didn’t eat all those chips.” John added.

“Hmph!”

“Then what about my beer?” Dean demanded.

“If you two bothered to pull your heads out of your asses and didn’t leave Sam to do all the investigating by himself, it all would have been pretty clear.” Bobby said pointedly.

I frowned. “What?” Dean echoed the same question.

“What you're dealing with.” John said.

“We got nothing.” Dean and I chimed.

“We’ve got a trickster on our hands.” Sam suddenly said.

“Huh?” I blinked in shock. The trickster episode? Now it suddenly made sense. The slow dancing alien. The pedophile of a professor. The crazy alligator in the sewer. And the janitor… Gabriel .

“That’s what I thought.” Dean said.

“No you didn’t.” I huffed. “How do we know it’s a trickster and not some tulpa?”

“It’s you two.” Bobby finally said. “You two were the biggest clue.”

“Oh hell no.” I groaned. My head hit the musty headboard of the motel bed. Of course that’s what it was. Instead of playing tricks on Dean and Sam, it had played tricks on me and Dean instead.

“If you two had kept a calm head then it wouldn’t have managed to trick you two into clawing at each other’s throats.” John pointed out. “It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fools.”

“So, what is it exactly? Spirit? Demon? What?” Jessica asked.

“Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them.” Bobby explained. “They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. Things as real as you and me. Make them vanish just as quick.” Yeah, or Archangels.

“You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator.” Dean said as he started to catch up.

“The victims fit the M.O., too.” John hummed. “Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor– deadly pranks, things like that.”

“So what do they look like?” Jessica asked.

“Lots of things, but human, mostly.”

Or an Archangel! I screamed internally.

Sam’s eyes lit up in recognition.

 

Apparently, our dysfunctional family had arrived at the conclusion that letting me and Dean distract the Trickster was gonna be the best way for us to get over our little squabble. In my defense, the last trick about some hooker’s number being in Dean’s wallet was a little too much. I’d nearly cried.

I inhaled sharply and placed a hand on the auditorium door. This was gonna go exactly according to plan. Hopefully.

 

I let out the most dramatic shrill shriek I could manage when I saw Dean slouching on one of the seats in the auditorium. A brunette and a blonde clad in babydoll and sexy lingerie were trailing their fingers up Dean’s jean clad legs. He had one hand buried in one of the women’s hair, and the other was gripping the armrest like it was a second lifeline.

Dean turned around with wide green eyes and started stammering. “It’s-it’s not what it looks like–”

“I knew it!” I gasped. “You were cheating on me!” I forced tears down my cheeks.

“Oh is that your wife, sugar?” the blonde cooed. Her very busty breasts were swaying with each word.

“We can give you both a good time.” the brunette licked her lips as her blue eyes settled on me. And wow, I was not better than a man. Her back looked pretty good in that thong.

I had to practically rip my eyes away from the woman to glare back at Dean. “Dean Winchester!”

“Oh come on sweetheart.” Dean pretended to switch tactics. “Don’t pretend like you don’t want a good time with these ladies.”

“They’re not real.” I crossed my arms. “They’re fake .”

Dean shrugged. “Feels real to me.”

And I was pretty sure I hadn’t consented to one of the women walking up to me and kissing me on the cheek. “This feel real?” Her touch ghosted up my arm and it took every bit of strength in me to not reach out and grab that luscious thigh to see how it felt under my hands. Yeah, I was going to hell. I was gonna cheat on my husband and go to hell.

“They're a peace offering!” came a man’s voice. I turned around, and there he was, Gabriel. He chuckled. “I know what you and your little ragtag family do.” A bowl of popcorn popped into his waiting hand out of nowhere. “I've been around a while. Run into your kind before.”

“Well, then you know that we… can't let you just keep hurting people.” Dean’s voice was hesitant as a hand got dangerously high up his thigh. And the one next to me was now trailing a hand down my neck and collarbone. I held back a shudder. This was starting to get uncomfortable.

“Come on! Those people got what was coming to them.” Gabriel pouted. “Hoisted on their own petards. But you two crazies– I like you. I do. So treat yourself… Long as you want. Just long enough for me to move on to the next town.”

I swatted off the woman that had now started to slip her fingers under my shirt. “Sorry that’s not happening.” Dean had slipped out from under the other woman’s touch too.

“I don't want to hurt you. And you know that I can.” Gabriel winked.

“Look, man, I- I got to tell you, I dig your style, all right? I mean-” Dean shook his head with a small laugh. “I do. I mean… and the slow-Dancing alien–”

Right. Distractions.

“Really liked that one.” I said. “Got that guy terrified out of his pants.”

Gabriel grinned. “One of my personal favorites. Yeah.”

“Sorry. But we still can’t let you go.” Dean stood firmly in front of Gabriel. I blocked the other exit of the row he was in. not like it mattered for an Archangel. But it wasn’t like I could out him in front of everybody. And the knowing look he gave me confirmed that he knew everything about me already.

“Too bad. Like I said, I like you, especially you.” He stood up on his chair and pointed at me. “You shouldn't have come alone.”

I shrugged. “Can’t say I disagree.”

The doors to the auditorium burst open. John and Jessica on one side. Sam and Bobby on the other. All four of them had wooden stakes, but Jessica looked a little too excited to be holding one.

“Aww, when did you two make up?” Gabriel whined. “I didn’t get to see the sex!”

I heard the whir of a chainsaw behind my head and oh shit. Was that Chainsaw Man? I ducked to avoid the chainsaw and stuck out a leg. Knockoff Chainsaw Man was knocked off his feet and his head went crashing into the other seats that went slice under the blades. Uhh. This was a little too real.

Everyone else was fighting their own battles. The blonde had gone for Sam and Bobby. Dean was grappling with something that looked like Saitama. And John and Jessica were dodging a flurry of volleyballs from… I didn’t even want to know why Hinata and Kageyama were here.

The brunette that had been taunting and borderline harassing me lunged next. It took a little too much effort to not stare at her wide hips when she swung a bat at my leg, but I managed to roll over the other seats and avoid her very voluminous attack. I focused on one of the stakes that had been dropped by Bobby and the familiar tingle in my fingers and the throb in my head told me it was working. Before she could raise the bat for another swing, I had the stake stab her through a very generous breast and her heart, which was a very literal heart, dropped onto the carpeted auditorium floor.

“What you gonna pull next?” I yelled. Chainsaw Man had gone for my head again but he was then shot seven times. By me. Obviously. “Doraemon?! Pull out a whole swim team?! A panda that turns into a man?!”

Everyone else looked confused at what I was spouting but Gabriel merely barked a laugh. “I can give you all of that!” He looked way too happy for someone who had a stake hovering right behind him. But then again, he wasn’t supposed to know. Though I knew he did. He was an Archangel pretending to be a Trickster. He was gonna take the L. The stake went right through him, and he vanished into a puff of dust. The creatures and characters we were fighting turned into particles of nothing too, and all that was left were a bunch of humans and a little too much blood dribbling down my nose. Man, this felt like a fever dream. Something I would write at 10:00PM high on caffeine and Kpop and fifteen different exams from fifteen different classes all due by the next morning.

Bobby got to me first. His fingers pinched my nose and tried to tilt my head up, but I stubbornly refused.

“That’s been debunked.” My voice was nasally. “People can drown and choke on their own blood if you do that.” I then tilted my head forward. “Apparently this is better.” I breathed in through my mouth. “But it’s been a while since I read that article so I dunno.”

“What the fuck was that?” John had other questions of course.

“You don’t wanna know.” I waved my hand in dismissal.

“That was so fun.” Jessica said, a little out of breath. She held up her reddened wrists. “I haven’t played such an intense game of volleyball since high school!”

“You’re crazy.” Dean muttered.

“How’s the bleed?” Sam asked gently.

I gave a thumbs up. “I’ll live.” Bobby let go and only a couple more drops fell on my upper lip. Yeah, I was fine.

“It looks worse than it is.” John’s hand came to grab the top of my head and tilted my face up till he could see. “All better.”

“Yeah.”

I looked up and met Dean’s eyes. “All better.”

 

“Miss me?” Dean grinned against my lips as I was pinned up against a wall.

I looked up at him and shuddered at how happy he looked. “Maybe.” I teased.

“Fucking tease.” He captured my lips again.

I pulled away for a second to whisper ‘language’, but that was short lived as he refused to let us part.

And then hands. Everywhere. And shamelessly I was palming the muscles of his torso too. My hormones were probably riled up, but who cared. The clothes went flying soon enough, and a few minutes later I was holding onto the headboard, biting a pillow as I tried to keep my noise down. Not like it mattered. Dean was groaning and moaning enough to let everyone within a five mile radius know what we were doing. I only hoped that Jessica wouldn’t sidle up next to me tomorrow morning, asking me if she should start preparing for a baby shower.

“You distracted, sweetheart?” Dean kissed my shoulder as he slowed down his pace.

“Thinking.” I muttered.

“That’s dangerous.” And he giggled. “Last time you thought, you accused me of cheating.”

I groaned. “It was the trickster.”

“Still.” He stilled his hips. “I hope you know I would never.”

And right there, with him buried inside and my face stuck to a pillow, I fell in love all over again. “Promise?” I asked cheekily.

His left hand found mine and covered it gently. Our rings clicked together as we let our fingers mingle. He nudged my face around enough for us to kiss again. “Promise.”

And yeah, with him looking like I’d hung the moon? There was nothing I could do except believe him. “Come on Winchester,” I tapped his knee with my foot. “We’ve got a few more condoms left before the expiry date.”

Notes:

This was legit a fever dream. This is such a funny ep, i didn't really care after a certain point lol. just wrote whatever came to mind. writing dialogue for this was a pain though. there's so many characters in one conversation and my english wasn't englishing so their personalities kind of fell flat.
I definitely struggle on the more uh spicier parts too. Like you can't expect someone like me to write decent smut, so if anyone has suggestions... lmk...
if anyone wants to know where tf i got the idea for anime characters from then it's cause in the transcripts I'm using it literally says "The TRICKSTER watches, entertained, as Bobby and Sam grapple with CHAINSAW Man and Dean fights the two women."

rant ahead:
uhh. 506 on my first practice MCAT, I refuse to believe it. Then i got a 60 on my exam so... yay... ... ... I was right... I'm cooked.
Um. expect more stress writing. my friend's dad lost his job. my dad might lose his job. i'm unemployed now. this MCAT prep course is 4000 bucks, my car is broken for the foreseeable future, my mom threatened to kill herself, the shower broke, my brother kicked a hole in the wall, i started watching reacher on amazon prime (i pirated it cause i can't stand the ads), oh and i can't afford college anymore so yeah. i'll be pumping out more fanfics.
STAY DELULU MY FRIENDS

Chapter 42: Roadkill

Summary:

"The wooden door creaked open. Molly’s eyes widened at the sight. Blood splatters everywhere. And if she thought the trunk of the couples’ car was an armory, then this guy was the supplier. Vicious tools meant to cause pain and slowly kill hung from the wall. And she saw chunks of rotting flesh. The smell had hit her like a truck, and she stumbled outside gasping for air. The couple, however, seemed to just consider it a slight annoyance. Who the hell were these people?"

Notes:

WARNINGS:
None.
I tried a new format cause why not. And then I was reminded why I don't like writing in third person limited.

“Sharon, do I have friends?” I blinked at the sudden question I was asked.

“I don’t know, Sam. Do you?” I said into the phone.

His side crackled and a loud groan escaped him. “I don’t know who to invite to the wedding.” Poor kid. Wedding invitations were killing him.

“That girl, uhh, what’s her name? The shapeshifter case girl. Rebecca?”

“Oh yeah.” I heard him scribble it down. “Who else?”

“Check your PalmPilot.” I sighed. “Alright, Sam, I’m gonna go. My tank is almost full.”

“Right. Uhh, call when you can. Thanks.”

“Was that Sam?” Dean asked as I hung up. He’d already put my pump away and was now leaning on his own ride to talk to me.

“Yeah.” I grinned. “Wedding invitations. I didn’t miss his text asking if he should use Times New Roman or some fancy gothic cursive font.”

“He should make it hot pink.” Dean snickered.

“This is funny.” I sighed and looked down at my own left hand. Four years now. And we hadn’t even had people to invite. That hadn’t stopped anyone from letting me run rampant with wedding plans. “We should go to our motel. See if there’s any case we can find.”

 

Third Person P.O.V.

Molly looked around nervously. “We’re lost.” She fiddled with the radio station and ended up on House of the Rising Sun. Well, she could deal with that.

“We’re not lost.” Next to her, David was buried in a map. “This is a shortcut.”

Molly sighed. Five years of being married to this man and he still got on her nerves sometimes. “Babe, it's just, we've been on this road over an hour, and we haven't seen a single car.” Her heart was starting to hammer and sweat was making her grip on the steering slip.

“Molly, I know how to read a fucking map, okay?” David snapped.

“We passed a gas station a while back. Let's just go ask someone.” Molly shuddered as the car jolted on a stray rock.

“That was 40 minutes ago.” David slumped in his seat. “We're not turning around.”

“Come on. Isn't this argument a little archaic?” Molly tried to joke. “Men can ask directions these days.”

“No, we can't. It's against our genetic code.” David scoffed playfully. “Look, I know exactly where we are.”

“Oh yeah?” Molly dodged a pothole. “Where are we then?”

“Highway 99, okay? It cuts right through…” He drifted off as they crossed a sign saying ‘41’.

“Yeah. 99.” She huffed.

“Okay…” David said awkwardly. “Maybe we’re taking the scenic route.”

“David. It's our anniversary, and we're spending it stuck in the car.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you, okay?” He shifted in his seat and pulled her over the center console. “Come here.”

“Stop. I'm mad at you.” She laughed when he started kissing at her neck.

“Oh, come on, Molly. Hey, you love me.” He smiled against her skin and pulled her closer.

“No, I don't. You're a jerk, David.” She smiled. “I mean it.” She raised one hand from the wheel and nudged him away from her.

That was all it took for her other hand to slip from the steering. “MOLLY!”

She screamed as she caught sight of a man on the road. She swerved away to avoid hitting him, and the car lurched over the edge of the road. Last thing she saw was a tree.

 

“David?” She gasped as she fumbled with her belt. “David!” She looked to her right, but he wasn’t there. Where was he? She stumbled out of the car, half crying, half breathing. “David! David!” She yelled. Where was her husband? The ring on her finger felt cold. “David!” She tried again. No response. “Where are you? DAVID!”

Again. Nothing.

Her hands began to shake. He had to be okay. There was no way he was going to just disappear and leave her alone.

A light in the distance.

She dragged herself towards it, and stumbled upon a cabin. It was a weird little cabin. But the light meant people. Maybe they would help her find her husband. “Is anybody here?” She called. “Hello?” And a man rounded the corner. It was the man she’d seen before. “It's you. You're okay. I'm so sorry.”

The man raised his head, and that’s when she saw the blood and the rot. His jaw fell off his face. His upper lips curled into a smile. Blood poured out of everything. And one glance at his stomach. And Molly screamed for the umpteenth time that night.

 

She ran. She ran as fast as she could. Over the trees. Over the leaves. Over everything on the ground. She had to get away from there. That man– what was he? A ghost? A spirit? Was she being hunted? Was she hallucinating? Didn’t matter. She still didn’t dare to glance behind her. Finally, she spotted asphalt from the small gap in the trees. And maybe headlights cutting through them. She sped up. Maybe the driver would be willing to help. All she needed was a phone call. To call 911 and tell them what happened. She needed to find David. Maybe the driver would be nice enough to help look for him too.

She stumbled into the middle of the road and let her arms spread out wide. “Stop!” She cried.

The car, vintage, screeched to a stop. Thank God! She hurried to the driver’s side and started banging on the window. There was a man in the driver’s seat. And a woman in the passenger's seat.

“You've got to help me.” She pleaded. “Please. Please!”

The man glanced at the woman and rolled down the window. “What happened?” He asked.

And Molly broke down.

 

The two people were nice, Molly concluded. They listened attentively. They gave her water. She used half of it to get the mud and blood off her face and the rest to tame what she could of her wild hair. She didn’t feel particularly thirsty, but it was cold and she didn’t reject the oddly coloured blanket the woman passed her. Probably handmade.

“This is nice.” Molly said.

The woman stood a little taller. “Thanks.” So she’d made it.

“So about this guy chasing you.” The man tilted his head. “Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?”

Molly looked up in shock. “How did you know that?”

The man shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Hey, uh.” the woman asked tentatively. “What’s your name again?”

“Molly. Molly Mcnamara.” She waited expectantly for their names.

“Sharon.” the woman said quietly. The man gave her an exasperated look.

He sighed. “Dean. I think you should come with us. We'll take you back into town.”

She wasn’t going to leave behind David. “I can't. I have to find David. He might have gone back to the car.”

“We should get you somewhere safe first.” The woman insisted. “Then Dean and I will come back. We'll look for your husband.”

Molly clenched the blanket tighter. “No. I'm not leaving here without him.” She forced her voice to remain steady. “Would you just take me back to my car, please?”

Dean and Sharon looked at each other. “Alright. Come on.”

 

Molly led them into the woods. Their car, a ‘67 Chevy Impala as the man had proudly proclaimed, was parked right next to the tree where Molly had sworn she’d crashed into. “It's right over there.” But there was nothing. What? “I don't understand. I'm sure this is where it was.” The grass was untouched. The mud didn’t have any tracks. The tree was unhurt. “W-We hit that tree right there. This… this doesn't make any sense.” She started looking around. Maybe it was a different tree? But she knew it was that one for sure. She knew that bend in the road, how could she forget? A car couldn’t just disappear! But maybe they’d crashed further in.

She glanced back to make sure that the man and the woman were still there. They were walking a little slower behind her, but they were a safe distance away. Molly gathered herself. She had to find David. That was the least she could do for her husband and their families.

 

“Dean.” He looked up when his wife said his name. “Greeley could show up any time.” She fiddled with the gun with iron bullets in her back pocket. Dean glanced at Molly, who was still frantically searching for her husband. A husband she would never find. “We should get out of here.” Her teeth were pulling at her lips again.

“So what do we tell her?”

“The truth?” Sharon flinched when Molly called out for David. “We’re gonna get killed.”

“And she’s gonna take it oh so well.” He sighed. “She's gonna take off running in the other direction.”

Sharon remained quiet. She knew he was right.

Molly trudged back up towards them, stammering. “I know it sounds crazy, but I-I crashed into that tree. I don't know who could've taken it. It was totaled. Please-please. You have to believe me.” The poor woman was in tears.

“We do believe you.” Sharon said softly. “And that’s why we need to get you out of here.”

“What about David? Something must have happened.” Her fingers clenched and unclenched around the handmade blanket. “I have to get to the cops.”

“The cops…” Dean jumped onto the idea. “That's a great idea. We'll take you down to the station ourselves. So just come with us.” He cheered internally when Molly came to stand beside Sharon. “It's the best way we can help you and your husband.”

 

“We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe.” She said quietly. Her forehead leaned against the windows as the Impala rumbled down the highway.

“You and David?” Sharon asked.

“It's our five-year anniversary.” She glanced at the ring on her left hand. It still felt oddly cold. She tightened the blanket around her shoulders.

Sharon and Dean glanced at each other. “Ours is coming up soon.” Dean said. And that’s when she noticed the silver on his left hand. Right, the couple in the front were married.

“Congratulations.” she said genuinely. She knew what it was like. To be married happily to one person for five years.

The two in front of her were absolute shit at holding small talk. Sharon shifted around to talk, but every time she opened her mouth, she frowned, and tried again. Well, at least they were trying.

“Right before, we were having the dumbest fight.” Molly said instead. “It was the only time we ever really argued… when we were stuck in the car.” She sniffled.

A box of tissues was passed to her and she gratefully accepted. “You can say that again.” Sharon gave a small smile. “He’s got terrible taste in music.” Dean turned up the rock station.

Molly laughed. “You know the last thing I said to him? I called him a jerk.” The tears started falling again. “Oh, god. What if that's the last thing I said to him?” She buried her face in a tissue.

And when Sharon spoke again, her voice held a broken tremor. “He would have forgiven you. Surely.” The woman shifted till she was completely facing her. “Molly… We're gonna figure out what happened to your husband. I promise.” When Molly looked up, it felt like this woman held all the answers to the universe.

She suddenly sat up straight and looked at the radio controls. “Static.” She stated.

Dean glanced down at it, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. ‘House of the Rising Sun’ started playing.

“Umm, that’s not the station we were on.” Sharon looked up.

Dean sighed. “Was afraid you’d say that.”

The radio crackled again, and a horrifying voice came through the car’s speakers. “She's mine. She's mine. She's mine.”

“Toxic relationship much?” Sharon muttered. The radio switched back to the song again.

“This song was playing when we crashed.” Molly whispered.

“Oh come on!” Sharon and Dean both groaned when the same man appeared right in front of the car.

“Dean!” Molly cried. They were gonna end up in the same accident!

“Hold on.” Dean said. And the car sped up.

Molly gasped. “What are you doing?”

The car went through the man without an impact. The man dissipated into the black of the night.

“What the… What the hell just happened?” Molly looked up with a shudder.

The car stammered. Dean gave a long sigh like he’d expected this to happen. “I don’t think he’s gonna let her leave.”

 

“This can't be happening.” Molly said as she slowly pushed the door open. The other two exited the car too and huddled together. At least they had each other. Tears pricked the corner of her eye. David would probably stand next to her like Dean stood next to Sharon. She wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. It really was so cold.

Sharon retied her hair and looked up at Dean. “She’s gonna run.”

… why would she say that? Dean shrugged. “Too bad. It’s happening and we have a job to do.” He marched over to the back of the car and propped open the boot. An arsenal of weapons stared back at her and that’s when Molly was suddenly terrified of the gun in Sharon’s back pocket.

“Well… Okay. Thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here.” Even with the blanket, she was still freezing. Maybe it had some kind of drug in it. To make her go to sleep–

Sharon looked up in alarm. “What? Molly– no–”

“Just leave me alone!” She kept backing away. What kind of crazy had she gotten herself into? David was missing and now she’d hitchhiked with a murderous couple.

“Molly! Please! We’re just trynna help!”

“Stay away!” she shrieked. She took off the blanket and threw it down on the ground.

Sharon’s face fell, but she quickly steeled herself. “Molly, fine we’ll tell you the truth. It wasn’t a coincidence that we ran into you today-tonight- okay?”

Despite every instinct, Molly froze. “What are you talking about?”

“We weren't cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister.” Dean closed the trunk and passed his wife a shotgun. “We were already out here. Hunting.”

What kind of hunting demanded weapons like that ? “Hunting for what?”

“Ghosts.” Dean said simply, slinging a shotgun around his shoulder.

“It’s the truth, Molly.” Sharon said softly. “Besides, if we wanted to hurt you, we could have done that already.”

“Real smooth, sweetheart.” Dean shook his head. “That’s not gonna send her running.”

Sharon shrugged. “I said I would tell her the truth. So here I am.”

She wasn’t wrong. Molly knew she wasn’t wrong. They’d only tried to help so far. But… “You guys are nuts.”

“Been there, done that.” Sharon muttered.

Dean had something more snarky to say. “Really? About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out. You know what you saw.”

“His name is Jonah Greeley.” Sharon continued. “He died on this highway fifteen years ago.”

No. No. No. She wasn’t about to believe some half assed ghost story from two strangers with a whole armory in their trunk. “Just stop.”

“Once a year he haunts this stretch of the road. On the anniversary of his death. And we’re here to stop him.”

Molly barked out a laugh. “Now, I suppose this ghost made my car disappear, too.”

“Well, some crazier things have happened.” Sharon leaned against their car. “If you wanna leave by yourself, you’re welcome to. But you’re not gonna get very far.”

Okay great, she was gonna die. “What do you mean?” She took a step back.

“Means that plan 'A' was trying to get you out of here.” Dean sighed. “Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill.”

“Greeley’s not gonna let you off this highway.” Sharon repeated.

Molly looked between them. They weren’t lying were they? “You're s- you're serious about this, aren't you?”

“Deadly.” Dean flashed her a cheeky smile.

“Every year, Greeley claims a victim because of what happened to him.” Sharon continued.

“Tonight, that person is you.”

“Why me?” Her breathing grew ragged. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Doesn't matter.” Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some spirits only see what they want.”

“So you're saying this Greeley, he took my husband?” David– Oh my God her David– “Oh, God.”

“Please, Molly. We’re trynna help.” Sharon pleaded again. “But you’re gonna have to help us out a little too.”

 

It got so much colder around the cabin when Molly finally managed to find her way back. She regretted tossing away that blanket now. Sharon had seemed so proud of that work too. She shuddered. Too late now.

“This is it. This is where I saw him.” Molly jerked her head towards the cabin. She could still see the man. His jaw on the mud. The blood pouring out of his face. His guts spilling out. Her body involuntarily lurched forward.

“Shh, shh.” Sharon whispered next to her. Her hand landed on her back and rubbed soothing circles. “You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna take care of everything.”

And despite the absurdity of the situation, Molly nodded.

“Must have been his hunting cabin.” Dean said as he came to collect them. “Come on, I found the front door.”

The wooden door creaked open. Molly’s eyes widened at the sight. Blood splatters everywhere. And if she thought the trunk of the couples’ car was an armory, then this guy was the supplier. Vicious tools meant to cause pain and slowly kill hung from the wall. And she saw chunks of rotting flesh. The smell had hit her like a truck, and she stumbled outside gasping for air. The couple, however, seemed to just consider it a slight annoyance. Who the hell were these people?

“Seemed like a real sweet guy.” Dean said as he exited.

“See any headstones?” Sharon asked.

Dean shook his head. “No markers either.”

Molly couldn’t help but ask. “You're looking for Greeley's grave?”

“Yeah.” the two answered.

“Why?”

“Because.” Sharon looked hesitant. “It’s gonna sound crazy. But we gotta find his corpse and salt and burn it.”

“Best way to kill a ghost.” Dean added. Like this was some kind of commercial.

“Of course.” Molly smacked her lips. “Naturally.”

“We’re just trynna get rid of the spirit.” Sharon repeated.

“And that'll save David?”

“It’ll help both of y’all.” Sharon said. “If we manage to find the corpse.”

Not answering her question. But she had nothing else to rely on. Molly nodded. “So how do we find it?”

“Uh, not sure. After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body.” Dean explained. “And that was the last anyone saw of her.”

“Our guess is that she brought him back here.” Sharon continued. “But these guys got, like, a thousand acres. He could be anywhere.”

The three of them started walking and looking around the cabin a bit more. The silence was killing Molly. “Is this really what you guys do? You're like Ghostbusters?”

“Mhm.” Sharon hummed.

“Minus the jumpsuits.” Dean stopped. “This is a fascinating conversation and all, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun up to wrap this thing up. What do you say we move it along, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response before bringing his hands together. “Great.”

“We’re splitting up I guess…” Sharon muttered as her husband parted from her. Molly stuck close to her. “We’re looking for Greeley’s house by the way. Probably buried there or something.” She frowned and tapped her head. “I’m forgetting something. Like a-like a–” She paused awkwardly. Her mouth opened and her throat worked but no sound came out. She kicked a rock out of frustration before closing her mouth. “Let’s keep looking.”

“Were you gonna say something?” Molly asked.

“No.” Her response was clipped. “Nothing. Come on.”

Molly dropped it. If she wasn’t gonna talk about it then fine.

“Molly? Molly!” Molly looked up. She knew that voice. “Molly, help me. Molly?”

“David?” Her feet moved before her brain could catch up. “David! Dav–!!!” his name died on her lips as Greeley caught her around the arms. She screamed and a gunshot rang out. Greeley vanished with a poof, and she went falling to the ground without the body gripping her. “What the hell?! Oh my god!”

Sharon came running up to her. Her shotgun was now in her hands, not on her shoulder. “You okay?” She asked.

Molly stood up, gathering herself. “What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?” She glared at where Greeley had been standing. “What did he do to David!” She swallowed back her tears.

Sharon herself had put on a blank face. “We don’t know.” Her voice wavered. “But take it easy. We’re gonna find David.” She looked past Molly’s shoulder. “Dean!” she called. “Over here!”

Dean came leaping over broken branches. “Did he show up?”

“Yeah, like there.” Sharon nodded at a perfectly rectangle rock amongst the mud.

“Follow the creepy brick road.” Dean muttered.

And that was their next course of action.

 

Molly and Sharon stuck close to Dean. He led the way like a seasoned soldier. Sharon following quietly after, her fingers always ready on the trigger or the knife at her hip like his shadow. It felt like a dynamic that worked. Molly’s only hope was that whatever those two did, David was alright.

“That thing shoot rock salt?” Molly asked, pointing to the shotgun around both their shoulders.

Sharon glanced at it and nodded. “Yeah. Repels spirits. Cause it’s pure or something.” She shrugged. “They’ve got it in a bunch of cultures.”

Molly just took it all in.

“Well. That's a normal house.” Sharon said sarcastically as they approached the end of the creepy brick road.

“You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house.” Dean joked.

Molly didn’t want to get any closer. The air was getting colder and colder. Dean was sporting a jacket under his leather one. Sharon was braving the cold with a thin cardigan and turtleneck, but she was covered in goosebumps. Molly looked down at her bare arms. She was freezing, but she didn’t have goosebumps. Interesting. She brushed it off and wandered inside behind the couple.

“No headstones or grave markers outside.” Sharon noted.

“Never that easy.” Dean rolled his eyes. He turned to the women. “You two check upstairs. See if you can find any notes or records telling us where he's buried. I'll just check down here.”

 

“Awesome collection.” Sharon said as they entered the only bedroom that looked like it had something. The place was strewn with papers. “Welp.” She put her hands on her hips. “Let’s get a-digging.”

Molly walked towards the window where one lone book sat on the sill. She brushed her fingers over the dusty covers and called the other woman over. “Look at this.” Sharon sat down next to her on the bed and they opened it together. “Greeley and his wife.” Her hand ghosted over the wedding picture. Molly started tearing up. She and David had an album just like that. But if he was gone then she would have to spend the rest of her life alone.

The two women continued flipping through the pages, until they landed at a small note tucked in between the pages. “It's a love letter he wrote her.” Molly read over the lines. “My god, it's beautiful. I don't understand how a guy like this can turn into that monster.”

“Spirits like Greeley become consumed with rage, regret, et cetera.” Sharon explained. “Sometimes they’re in so much pain, they don’t know what to do with it and just start lashing out. It also happens when a spirit is trapped on Earth long enough that it drives them mad. They lose all sense of who they used to be. And nothing but confusion and rage remain.”

“Then… what’s keeping them here?”

“Unfinished business.” Sharon said gently. Her voice grew softer. “It could be revenge. Could be love. Or hate. Whatever it is, they’re holdin’ on too tight. So they end up trapped. Caught in the Same loops. Replaying the same tragedies over and over.”

Molly couldn’t read what was in this woman’s gentle black eyes. Something told her she wasn’t talking about just ghosts in general.

“You sound almost sorry for them.”

Her lips quirked up, but there was no humour in her eyes. “I can kind of understand their pain.”

Molly didn’t want to know what she meant by that.

Sharon and Molly jolted up at a soft knock on the door. “She’s always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this.” He leaned against the doorway, his eyes on the both of them. “Me, I don't like 'em. And I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em. There's nothing downstairs.”

“Dean.” Sharon chided.

“Not talking about you, sweetheart.” He looked sad. Molly felt like she was infringing on a private moment between the two, but as soon as they had made eye contact, they broke it and started bustling about with too much movement.

“Nothing to note here.” Sharon said. She uselessly dusted off the album cover and put it back on the sill. “Just a hoarder’s bedroom. The wife’s bedroom.”

Dean turned to face a wall. “There’s something behind here.”

“What?” Sharon and Molly walked up to stand next to him.

He tossed his flashlight to Sharon and started running his hands over a cabinet. “Help me with this.”

Molly took the flashlight and held it up as Sharon and Dean stood shoulder to shoulder. Together they pushed, and the cabinet scraped the wooden floor to reveal a small hidden door.

Dean jiggled the knob. “Locked from the inside.”

“You gonna break it?” Sharon held out her hand for the flashlight. Molly passed it over.

“Yeah.” Dean stepped back and kicked at it.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Men tend to have stronger upper bodies. Try those huge shoulders of yours.”

“They’re still raw.” Dean smirked.

Sharon reddened. “Shut up, and just break that thing.

Molly giggled to herself. David would have said something similar.

“Ladies first.” Dean held his arm up.

Sharon huffed. “Fine.” She got down on her knees and crawled through the small opening. Molly looked skeptically at Dean, who wasn’t even looking at her. He was more busy in making sure Sharon got through safely. Her heart clenched. David. She was doing this for David, until he was safe with her again.

“Whatcha waiting for?” Dean asked her.

Molly pressed her lips together, and crawled inside. A minute later, the three of them were staring at a woman’s corpse dangling from the ceiling. She screamed.

“This is great.” Sharon deadpanned. “Life is great.”

“Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again.” Dean muttered and started walking around the room.

Molly’s heart broke for the dead woman. “She didn’t want to live without him.” Her too. She didn’t wanna live without David.

“Nothing here.” Dean’s voice made her snap back to reality.

“Same.” Sharon said, and the two of them started making their way back to the small door.

Molly gaped at them.

Sharon paused. “What?”

“You’re just gonna leave her like that?” She looked up at the corpse.

“Uhh.” Sharon looked confused. “Yes?”

“Shouldn’t we- I don’t know- put her to rest?”

Sharon looked at the corpse. “Dead people don’t actually care what happens to their corpses. Just the families.” Her eyes flickered to Dean’s, who avoided them. “It’s the circle of life. She’ll rot with the wood of this house. Go back to nature, and all that naturalist stuff.”

“But-but shouldn’t we–”

“We don’t have the time.” Sharon finally said. Her voice was detached, cold. “Dead people don’t care what happens to their bodies.” She crawled through the narrow space behind Dean, muttering something that sounded like ‘I would know’.

 

Molly peered over the shorter woman’s shoulder. Sharon was very invested in the albums. She’d flipped through nearly five of them already, always pausing a beat too long at any picture with a hint of greenery.

Dean had taken to walking the entire house all over again. Ruffling through things, looking under the pillows, pulling and shoving cabinets around. Everything yielded nothing.

“You just gonna sit there and admire pictures, sweetheart?” Dean finally sighed.

“Shut up, Dean.” and she flipped through a few more photos. “This would have been so much easier with a search option. I wanna just enter–” Her voice caught, and Dean stiffened. “What I want into the search bar and voila, I’ll have what I want.”

“There’s something in the albums, isn’t there?” Dean sat down next to them and picked up another one. “Can you tell me what I’m looking for?”

Sharon bit her lip. “No.”

But why? Molly was going to ask, when the temperature dropped nearly fifty degrees.

Dean sat up. Sharon flipped through the album more vigorously. His hand moved to the shotgun, cocking it, ready to shoot.

Molly’s heart started racing. “I-is he coming?” The radio crackled on. House of the Rising Sun. Molly wrapped her arms around her stomach. “He’s coming! Isn’t he?!”

“Unfortunately.” Sharon muttered.

Molly looked around frantically. Where the hell was this guy gonna come from? The music played louder.

“‘She’s mine.’” Dean read. The windows had frosted over, and ‘she’s mine’ was etched onto it in terrifying letters.

Molly’s heart plummeted straight to her stomach. “No, no, no– AAHHH!”

She screamed when a hand clamped around her, pulling her through a window– wait– through? And dragged her into the night.

 

Her whole body was stretched as she dangled from the ceiling. She forced her eyes open and looked up. Her wrists were tied, and her toes barely brushed the floor. In front of her, stood the murderous man, who wanted her for some reason. And he’d taken her David.

“Where's David?” She forced her throat to move. “What did you do to him?”

“You shouldn't worry about him anymore.”

No– No, no, no– No way– no fucking way. “Oh my God.” She gasped.

“You should worry about yourself.” Greeley’s broken jaw somehow managed to make a smile. His guts were still hanging out, brushing over the floor every time he moved.

Molly gagged. “I didn't do anything to you.”

“Oh?” Greeley tilted his head as he brushed a grimy muddy hand over her face.

Molly held her breath to avoid the stench of death. “I know… I know about your wife.” She dared to look the crazy ghost in the eye. “Hurting me won't bring her back.” Greeley’s finger slid lower, his nail somehow slicing through her skin. She bit back a scream and tried to swing away from him, but he held her firm in place by the throat.

“My wife is gone. All I got left's hurting you.” His fingers squeezed lightly, and her head spun.

“P-Please. Just let me go.”

“Go? You're not gonna leave.” His hand drifted lower still and punctured her flesh. “You're never gonna leave.” Her breath caught in fear when his hand came back out, covered in blood. She’d never been more terrified in her life. David was dead, and now she was gonna die too, at the hands of this ghost.

“Sorry, but that ain’t happenin’.”

Greeley released Molly from his hold and turned slowly. Molly followed his gaze. At the door, stood Sharon, shotgun loaded with salt. She’d never been happier to see a woman with a shotgun more.

The black haired woman took aim, and salt blew out, sending Greeley disappearing with a puff of smoke. “He’ll come back soon.” She muttered. Her hands reached up to the ropes digging into Molly’s wrists. She produced a knife from inside her leather jacket– Dean’s Molly realised – and cut into the ropes.

Suddenly Greeley appeared, this time with a butcher’s knife. “Behind you!” Molly cried.

Sharon turned around and her knife sliced at Greeley. The man disappeared again. “Hah!” Sharon cheered. “Pure iron, you ghastly ghost!” Molly slumped forwards when her ropes gave. Sharon wrapped an arm around her and guided her to a chair. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t go after Dean.” She whispered.

“You guys found it?” Molly whispered.

Sharon gave a small nod. She yelped when a hand wrapped around the back of her neck and yanked her back. She was thrown into the wooden walls of the cabin and the wind left her lungs.

Molly stood up. She could help– she could get the shotgun–

“Don’t touch it!” Sharon snarled. “Don’t you dare touch my gun– or my–” she never finished the sentence as Greeley raised his own butcher’s knife to her neck.

Molly’s hands trembled. What was she to do? The gun was her only option. Something inside told her that touching the knife was going to be a mistake. But if she didn’t do something soon, then Sharon would die. Blood was already dripping steadily from the cut Greeley had made down the right of her pale face. Her legs kicked and her hands clawed at the ghost, but he wouldn’t budge. Greeley’s knife reeled back. Molly grabbed the chair and lunged with a scream.

Except she needn't have. Greeley burned with a fierce scream and Sharon’s frame slumped with relief. Greeley had disappeared, but Molly’s momentum hadn’t. The chair went crashing into Sharon’s shoulder and she grunted in pain.

“Holy shi–” Sharon bit back the curse.

Holy shit indeed. “Oh my God–” Molly knelt in front of her, her hands fumbling about trying to figure out what to do. “I’m so sorry–”

“Hey–” Dean came storming in. His eyes fixated on Molly. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“Dean.” Sharon grimaced. “She was trynna help.” She pushed herself up. Molly reached out to help her stand up, and Sharon gave her a grateful smile. “See? All good.”

Dean’s accusing glare relaxed. “If you say so.” He tossed her a handkerchief. “Did that bastard hurt you?”

“I’ll live.” She pressed it to her face. “Been through worse.”

Dean didn’t return the little laugh she gave.

 

“Oh Baby,” Dean said as he practically hugged his car. “It’s been a long night.”

“Not the car getting more action than me.” Sharon joked as she slid into the passenger’s side. Molly got in the back, and Dean got into the front.

“You know that’s not true, sweetheart.” He smirked. “Both of you get the same amount of action.”

Sharon’s eyeroll was enough to send the Earth spinning.

Dean started the car. “Let’s get you off this highway.” He said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Molly finally spoke up. “You guys said David was okay.” Her voice cracked. “Greeley said he was dead. All this time I've been looking for him, and you knew that… You knew that Greeley killed him, didn't you? He's dead.”

Sharon frowned. “That what he said?”

“Well–” Molly bristled. “What else could he have meant?”

“David’s alive.” Dean said finally.

David was alive. He was alive? “He is?”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “Wanna see him?”

Molly nodded frantically. Of course she did. Sharon and Dean shared a glance. “Alright then.”

 

She jumped out of the car as soon as the Impala stopped.

“You, um,” Sharon shifted awkwardly. “You might wanna… just take a peek inside.” She nodded at the window.

Why? Why couldn’t she just go up to the front door? Molly soon realised why.

It was David, an older David, making a cup of coffee in a bathrobe. “That's not… It can't be.” David looked up, and a woman, also in a bathrobe, walked up to him. She tilted her head up, and David kissed her on the lips. What ? “What’s happening?” She looked at Sharon and Dean. Sharon's face had gone blank, Dean was stiff. “Who is that woman?”

Sharon looked like she wanted to answer. “She’s–” Her voice cracked, and she turned to Dean for help. He gave her a small nod. “Sorry, but she’s his wife.” Her eyes glistened. “Fifteen years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. Only David survived.”

No way. “What are you saying?”

A tear slid down her cheek, and she looked up at Dean, who gently continued. “We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting Highway 41.” His voice grew softer. “There are two. Jonah Greeley and…” Molly closed her eyes. She knew what he was going to say. “You. For the past fifteen years, one night a year you've been appearing on that highway.”

No. “No. That's not possible. It was our anniversary… February 22nd…” She looked at the car. “I read the paper in the car! The date said February 22nd!”

“1992.” Dean said. “Molly, it’s 2007.”

She heard a sniffle. Sharon swiped at her nose, and stood back up, like nothing had ever happened. Molly felt the same, except it was a deep clawing at her throat. Everything suddenly made sense. Why she felt so cold. Why Greeley could drag her through the window. Why Sharon had yelled at her to not touch their weapons.

“No.” She shook her head. Impossible. She couldn’t be a ghost.

“It’s true, Molly.” Sharon’s voice wavered. “You have to remember. It’s time for you to go.”

She closed her eyes. She could see it in flashes now. Greeley jaywalking on the road. David yelling at her when he saw him. Her swerving off, but not without taking the man along with the car, into the tree. How David had screamed her name from the passenger’s seat. His tears over her body as he begged her to stay awake. And then the paramedics’ declaration. ‘Time of death, 11:47 PM’. Right before midnight.

She’d wanted so hard to believe that she hadn’t hit the man. That she hadn’t killed someone because of a second’s distraction.

“I’m a good driver!” She screamed to no one. “I always wore my seatbelt! I never went over the speed limit! I never did anything while driving–” She choked on her own tears. “How could I– I’m sorry!”

A pair of arms wrapped around her. Soft and warm, wrapped in a leather jacket three sizes too big. Molly buried her face in her shoulder. “I’m sorry–” She whispered. “I’m so-so sorry.”

 

“Sorry about your blanket.” She whispered.

“No problem.” Sharon shrugged.

Molly looked up from where she was sitting. Sharon’s shoulders weren’t even damp from her tears. She really was dead, huh. “Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me?” She asked. “Why wait until now?”

Dean shrugged. “You wouldn't have believed us.”

“And bait.”

Sharon flinched. “Maybe.” But they’d cared as well.

“David?”

“We brought you here, so you could move on.” Sharon said quietly.

“I have to tell him.” She stood up.

“Tell him what? That you love him? That you’re sorry? He already knows that. You already told him.” Another memory flickered in her mind. A broken ‘I love you.’ A broken ‘I’m sorry.’ Her voice. And David’s. “I get it if you wanna just see him one last time. But honestly? He’ll be a little more than freaked out.”

“For life.” Dean added.

“This is your unfinished business Molly. Saying goodbye.”

“What am I supposed to do?” She looked at the couple.

They glanced at each other. “Just… let go.” Sharon said. “Think about what’s in the future. Stop thinking about what already happened. Think about what you can do now. Watch over him.”

Molly looked up slowly. “You know what happens when people die, don’t you?”

Sharon gave a bittersweet smile. “Just let go Molly. You’re gonna be fine. I can promise you that. You’ve suffered long enough. It’s time to go.”

Right. She could look towards the future instead. What future did a ghost have? She gave one last look at the house. David had moved on, she should move on too. Onto the next life. Onto Heaven. Or whatever was waiting for her. She stepped away from the house and looked up at the sky.

The first rays of dawn poked out from beneath the horizon. She caught Sharon’s eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

 

First Person P.O.V.

She disappeared in a beam of light. I’d laughed at the horrible CGI when I’d first seen this on TV. But today, standing in front of the blinding light, I felt nothing more than the urge to cry. I took a breath, but it turned into a hiccup. This was sad. The poor thing. She’d suffered for fifteen years. Reliving a death where she was tortured over and over again.

Dean jingled his keys louder than necessary. “Case closed.” He said, and headed for the Impala. “Back to the motel we go.” He tossed me my keys. I ducked instinctively. They flew right past my head and Dean rolled his eyes. “Pick them up, and let’s go, sweetheart.” I got them off the ground and got into the passenger’s seat. My crocheted blanket was gone, left on a highway by a ghost. A ghost that had apologised. And then thanked us for our services. “Could have paid us a little fee.” I joked.

“You could say that again.” Baby rumbled to a start and Dean’s hand found mine. “By the way, it’s ‘More than a little freaked out.’” Dean corrected.

I frowned. “What?”

“It’s ‘more than a little freaked out’.” He grinned cheekily. “You’d said ‘a little more than freaked out’.”

I had? “Still grammatically correct.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know. You’re the born and bred American.”

He clicked his tongue. “School was hell. Grammar be fucked.”

I laughed. “You would have hated my school then.” I kicked my shoes off, leaned against the side and put my feet up against Dean’s thighs. “Participles and British spellings would have sent y’all into a coma.” I sagged against the seat, letting myself relax.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Still does, sweetheart. I’ll never get used to you writing ‘color’ with a u.”

“Centre with ‘re’ and not ‘er’.”

“That’s just criminal.”

“Story with an ‘e’ when describing floors.”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Ground floor being first floor.”

“Alright, you know what?” Dean leaned over to turn up the rock station he was on. “You can get some sleep. And don’t wake up for the next few hours.”

I yawned as the radio blasted Metallica. “G’night, Dean.” I closed my eyes and soaked in the warmth of him and the car. His jacket over my form. Baby warming up from the sun. Dean's hands steady on my legs. I was safe. I could sleep.

Notes:

uhh. well that was smth. stress writing so there may be continuity errors. pls lmk if i made any major mistakes. Sam's gonna take a backseat for a while. Gotta keep those wedding plans coming :)
Btw, I read this awesome fanfic on tumblr the other day where Dean has to meet and gain the approval of an Indian Y/N's parents, but they're conservative Indians. And it was simultaneously the saddest but funniest thing I've ever read from the SPN fandom. I can't wait to get to the later seasons, where I've got so much sh*t planned similar to that HAHAHAHAHA.

Chapter 43: Heart

Summary:

"The policeman had been mauled, completely. I knelt beside him. I would have started CPR, checked for vitals and all that jazz, but in the darkness, I’d almost missed the fact that his heart had been ripped out."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Toxic relationship? Pretty sure this is toxic on some level... but we stay delulu.
2. Yall will hate me for writing out Sam, but I'm sorry some things take priority such as his happiness.
3. Period mentions. Deal with it.

“You two are sure you don’t want me there?” Sam asked for the millionth time.

“Yes, Sam. We're sure.” I could hear Jessica talking on the other side. Something about bridesmaids.

“You and Dean are coming right?”

“But of course.” I laughed. I glanced out the window where Dean was filling up our shiny black rides. The morning had been rough, I’d fumbled with the pump three times and Dean had shooed me into the gas station’s diner to do something useful, like saving us a seat. “Whatever you need from us Sammy.”

“So, um, it’s kind of given that Dean is gonna be my best man.”

I smiled at the thought of him in a tux. “If you can get him into anything that resembles formal wear.”

Sam snorted. “That can be your job.”

“Hell no.”

“Ugh…”

I could practically see him dropping his head to the table despite being miles apart.

He cleared his throat. “So, um. The next part– about you–”

“I get to be flower girl?” I teased.“Wait you wanna be flower girl?”

Oh– was he expecting me to be a guest? I wasn’t expecting a major role in the wedding. Dean being Sam’s best man only seemed ideal. Jessica definitely had people closer to her to be her maid of honor and bridesmaids. “You know I was just kidding, right? I’m fine with just being Dean’s plus one.” Unless he didn’t want me there at all. That kinda stung.

“What? No.” I heard him readjust his grip on the phone. “Sharon– why would you–” He sighed. “No, I was gonna ask if you wanted to be the second best man– best maid– wait that just sounds wrong–”

“Oh.” Wow. I hadn’t expected that.

“Best woman? Dude I don’t know. But, I want both of you. Dean and you. I mean– if you wanna skip the whole thing then I’m more than happy if you’d be, like, just a groomsmaid. Dad might complain about the whole tradition thing, but we can talk him out of that. Unless you’re just not interested, which is also fine– I mean I’d still love to have you there as a guest– Honestly it’s up to you. If you don’t want all that responsibility. I just want you there.” Dammit. Sam always knew what to say to send me crying.

I blew my nose into the rough cheap diner brown tissue paper. “O’course Sammy.” I sniffled. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Uhh, don’t say it like that.” Sam joked.

I barked out a laugh. He was too sweet. “Yeah, I’m down. Best woman or groomsmaid, whatever you and Jessica want. As long as I get to wear a dress.” I quickly added. “I’ll wear a short suit on top if necessary, but I’m not sitting in pants on your wedding day.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want, Sharon.” He pulled away from the speaker to yell to Jessica. “Jess! She said yes!” A small cheer erupted from somewhere in the apartment.

“It sounds like I just got proposed to.” I looked up and Dean was looking at me curiously. Oh, he was already done filling up the tanks. “You wanna talk to him, Sammy? He just got here.”

“Yeah. Pass it on.”

I passed over the phone and Dean held it up to his ear. “Heya, Sammy…”

I patted his hand once before standing back up. “I’ll order us something.”

 

My gun was automatically aimed at the motel door as soon as the doorknob twisted. “Oh,” I let out a sigh of relief when I realised it was Dean. “What did you find?”

“Werewolf!” Dean said excitedly.

A little too excitedly. “Dean, it’s a werewolf. It’s not a good thing.”

“Okay, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but what about ‘a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight’ don't you understand?” He grinned. “I mean, werewolves are badass.”

Well, when he put it like that… “I like it when they’re hot.” I shrugged. “The fanfictions tend to get a little out of hand, but yeah, I like it when they’re hot.”

“Okay, that’s just weird.”

I smirked. “If you were a werewolf, I’d consider you hotter.”

Dean suddenly didn’t look too excited about werewolves. “You’d ditch me for a werewolf?”

“If he was hot.” I reminded him.

“Whatever, woman.” He sat down next to me and stared at my laptop screen. “So what’s our next move?”

“Tracked the woman who found the bodies.” I selected a long address to highlight it. “Get to it, chauffeur.”

 

My heels were noiseless on the soft carpet of the apartment hallway. The young woman, Madison, opened the door, and led us inside. “I don't understand. I already gave my statement.”

“I’m sorry, but we just need to clarify a few things.” I gave her my best smile.

“This is my neighbor, Glen.” Madison stepped aside to reveal a man with a beard and a ‘Mission Church’ T shirt. Huh. “Glen, this is Detective…”

“Landis.” Dean said. “And this is Detective Carpenter.”

“Well, I guess I'll leave you to it.” Glen gave a small nod and left.

“Thanks for the casserole.” Madison called after the man.

When she finally closed the door, I realised how beautiful she was. Thick brown hair, lovely dark eyes… and she looked absolutely amazing in the sleep attire she was in.

“Oh, how thoughtful.”

I stood with my back straight as a board as I tried to not get jealous at Dean glancing her over. I’d done the same. I wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. I refused to be a hypocrite. So the two of us ended up checking her out as she swayed into the kitchen. “He's sweet. He came over to check on me. Have a seat.”

We sat down at the kitchen table. I straightened out my suit. “You were Nate Mulligan’s assistant, right?” The murdered lawyer’s assistant. “This must all be very jarring.”

“For two years, yeah.” She nodded.

“So, you knew all about him?” Dean asked.

“Probably knew more about him than he did. Nate was… he was nice.”

I hummed in acknowledgement. “But that’s not your true opinion. Please, we’d like to hear your true opinion on the man. None of this will be used against you.”

“Um… Nothing, really. He had a few scotches in him, and he started hitting on anyone in a five-mile radius.” She gave a humorless laugh. “You know the type.”

Yeah, the type was sitting right next to me. Was he still staring at her like that? I felt almost offended. “Unfortunately, I do know the type.” I said pointedly.

Dean leaned back with a nearly invisible pout. “Did he have any enemies?”

“What do you mean?” Madison looked confused. “It sure looked like an animal attack.”

“We’re just covering all our bases. Maybe… someone could have gotten their hands on a wild animal and set it off on him? Maybe someone disguised it as an animal attack? We don’t know for sure.” I lied. We knew exactly what it was. A werewolf. Nothing else killed on the week of the full moon with the hearts completely cut out.

Dean kept pressing. “Anyone that might have had a beef with him– a former client, an ex?” Something flashed in her eyes. “You got something?”

“Well, this is embarrassing, but my ex-boyfriend, Kurt–”

“Kurt have a last name?”

“Mueller. After we broke up, he went kind of nuts.” She shuddered. “He's… well, he's kind of been stalking me. He got it in his head that something was going on between Nate and I. He showed up at my office.” The poor thing.

“What happened?”

“Kurt got into it with Nate, threw a punch before security grabbed him. I was lucky to keep my job.” Her hands clenched the fabric of her tank top.

Dean nodded. “When was the last time you saw Kurt?”

“A few nights ago. Actually, the night Nate died.” Oh? “We were all grabbing drinks at this bar, and Kurt showed up.”

“And?”

“Nothing. It was like he was watching me. Then he was gone. To tell you the truth… he scares me.”

 

“Well…” I tucked my bike into the brush. “You gonna tell me why you were eyeing her like that?”

“Eyeing who?” Dean swung his leg off the bike and tossed his helmet next to mine.

I hit the kickstand down. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t checking her out.”

“Hardly my fault. Her ass was out.” He placed a hand on my waist and turned me around to face him. He smirked. “If yours was out, I’d be staring at you too.”

I pushed his chin up with the heel of my palm. “Say that again, and I’ll kill you.”

He laughed to himself, but his hand settled lower on my hip. He leaned down to softly kiss my lips. “Ain’t leaving you, sweetheart.”

I hummed and pushed at his shoulder. “Alright, Winchester. Let’s go.”

We made our way up the stairs, and into the ex boyfriend’s apartment.

“Lock picking 101.” I said as the door clicked shut behind me.

Dean was already making his way to the kitchen, and opening up the fridge. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to check out the cabinets. Nothing.

“Find anything?”

“Other than a six pack?”

“Abs?”

“Beer, sweetheart.”

“Get rid of it.”

Just then, an animal howled. Dean and I glanced at each other.

Werewolf.

We raced to the balcony. Dean pushed the sliding door open and I leaned over the balcony. Whatever was there, was gone.

I traced my fingers over the railing and then glanced at the wall of the building. Claw marks had been gouged into it. Dean slammed his fist onto the metal. “Son of a bitch!”

“Missed him by a hair.” I mumbled to myself.

Dean yanked me back when a flash of light suddenly shone through the dark street. “Somebody there?” came the call of a man. I dared to peek outside, and saw a policeman making his way through the road.

I looked up and Dean loosened his hold around me. “No animal I know could have done that and disappeared that fast.” Dean said pointedly.

I nodded. “I agree.”

Just then, came the sound of two rapid gunshots. Panicked gunshots. The two of us shared a glance before sprinting outside.

 

The policeman had been mauled, completely. I knelt beside him. I would have started CPR, checked for vitals and all that jazz, but in the darkness, I’d almost missed the fact that his heart had been ripped out.

“Call 911.” I said to Dean.

He pressed his lips together and made the call angrily. I kicked a rock. We’d missed the werewolf. Completely.

Dammit!

 

I knocked politely on Madison’s door. Glen, from across the hall poked his head out the door. “What’s going on?” He asked with a concerned frown.

“Police business.” Dean quipped.

Madison opened the door. “What is it?”

I looked around the hallway. Glen was still lurking by his door. “I think we should discuss this in private.”

 

We ended up in Madison’s kitchen, trying to not stare at her in her oversized shirt too long.

“Has Kurt been here?” Dean asked.

“Not exactly.” She said. Her long fingers poured us coffee. Damn, even her fingers were pretty.

“What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

“Well, he was outside last night. Just… looking.” She sat down across from us. “Just looking at me.” Dean and I glanced at each other. “Has he done something?”

“We’re not sure.” I answered. The cup was warm in my hands. “But one of us should probably stay here with you. Make sure he’s not up to any funny business.”

“Where does he work?” Dean asked.

“He owns a body shop.” Madison responded.

“You mind grabbing that address for us?”

Madison nodded.

As she exited into the kitchen, I raised an eyebrow at Dean. “You wanna stay with the hot chick?”

“With you? Everyday.” He grinned cheekily.

I lowered my voice. “I’m serious, Dean.”

His smirk slipped off. “You stay here with her.” He glanced out the window. “If Kurt really is our mutt then I don’t want you facing him off alone.”

Well, that was kind of romantic. “What about you?”

He lifted the back of his jacket to reveal the glint of his gun. “One silver bullet to the heart. And that motherfucker is dead. Not our first rodeo with a werewolf, hm, sweethea–?” He stood up straighter and put on a polite smile. I turned around to see Madison walking up to us with something scribbled on her sticky note. “Thanks.” He said and pocketed the address. He smacked the back of my shoulder. I fought back a stumble. “She’ll stay with you.”

And I was left awkwardly with Madison.

 

“So.” I said awkwardly.

“Yeah?” She was folding laundry at the foot of the couch. And it felt just wrong for me to be sitting on the couch staring down at her. I slid onto the floor and she merely blinked.

“Um… what do you usually do with your time?”

She tilted her head in thought. “I usually finish my chores. And then,” She looked at her TV. “I just watch some TV.” She looked back at me. “You wanna watch something?”

“Um. sure.”

She fished for the remote and turned it on. It was some soap opera. “Clandestine Chandeliers?” I read the title. “Dude, I love this show.”

Madison perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I leaned against the couch, letting my gun dig comfortingly into my back. Even if Kurt showed up, I would be prepared. “My husband swears he doesn’t like it, but he ends up watching it with me.”

Madison laughed and sat down next to me, her legs stretched out in front, still folding laundry as she turned up the volume.

…

“Can’t believe Ethan was cheating on Mavis.”

“And Sarah was pregnant all along?!”

“Make it make sense!”

…

“Awww, look at that little boy!”

“He’s so cute!”

“Oh damn, he’s already breaking little hearts.”

“Awwww!”

…

Yeah, that was what happened when you let two women watch a soap opera together. When the show finally ended, Madison stood up with a stretch. “I completely forgot about dinner.”

And lunch. My stomach added. “I can go grab us something.” I slipped my jacket back on. “It’s probably not safe for you to leave yet.” Even though Dean had shot me a text telling me he had eyes on Kurt.

“Oh, that would be lovely.” Madison smiled. “I’ll set the table.”

“Yeah.” I slipped my shoes on and headed out the door. I still hadn’t heard from Dean. I went down to his contact and hit call. He picked up within three rings. “Hey, sweetheart.” He drawled.

“Dean… Are you at a strip club?” I could literally hear the R rated songs and the heels on the stage and the poles and men gasping and moaning as they did unholy things with their hands.

“Maybe.” He smacked his lips.

I closed my eyes as a sick feeling rose in my stomach. He was working the case. It wasn’t like he was there to have fun. My silence must have bothered him.

“You wanna switch places?” He asked gently.

“It’s fine.” I said a little too quickly. I winced. I got onto my bike and revved him up. “I’m gonna grab dinner.”

“Wait. You sure you wanna leave her alone?”

“You have eyes on Kurt right?”

“Yeah.” He shifted. “I don’t think he’s leaving this place any time soon. He just paid a girl for a private show.”

Not helping. “Okay, well. Um. I don’t know.” I didn’t know how to feel. We hadn’t needed someone to go to a strip club to investigate ever since we’d gotten engaged. “Just- just don’t–”

“I know, baby.” He said softly. “Nothing’s happening here, I swear.”

Cold wind bit into my neck as I rounded a corner at a fast food restaurant. I didn’t even bother checking the sign as I walked in. “Call me if something happens.”

“Yeah. ‘Course. And you stay safe.”

Last time I’d gone out on a food slash supply run, I’d gotten mugged by a demon and then sent to my death and then straight to Hell. This time, I felt like Hell had risen on Earth in my head. It shouldn’t have bothered me so much. Dean being at a strip club for a case wasn’t new. He’d done it as a teenager, as a twenty something year old. Hell, I’d been to strip clubs with Dean and Sam both to investigate cases, on rare unfortunate situations with John, and on very cruel nights with Bobby. Those had made for very uncomfortable experiences, but lives had been saved, so we’d chalked it up to just another insane thing that happened in hunting families. Besides, I trusted Dean. Everyone who knew him trusted him.

So no. Dean being at a strip club logically shouldn’t have made my stomach churn, but here I was, holding onto a table trying to not pass out or hurl on the floor at the very thought of someone else’s hands on him, or even his hands on someone else.

“Two burger meals?” I looked up as the young boy at the register repeated.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Do you know what kind of drink you want?”

“Coke.” Always a safe option.

“Your order will be ready in ten minutes.”

I slumped in a chair and glanced at my ring. I slid it off and lifted it to read the engravings once more. Dean Winchester . I would just have to trust him.

 

“I’m back!” I announced into the apartment. The lights had been turned off. My heart leapt in my throat. Was Madison alright? I dropped the takeout bags silently on the floor and reached for my gun instead. I held it up, the metal cool against my sweaty palms. Everything looked the same as when I’d left. I kept my gun steady. I pushed open the bedroom door, and found Madison sleeping peacefully under the covers. She looked unharmed.

I lowered my gun with relief. She’d probably just turned in early.

I sat down at the kitchen table and opened up my dinner. The greasiness of the cheap burger made me feel sicker. But my stomach begged for sustenance. Washing it down with a giant glass of coke made it easier, but my stomach still felt like Satan was throwing a dance party. Dammit.

I went for the couch and slumped onto it. I slipped off my jacket, kicked off my shoes and dialed Dean again. He didn’t pick up. I tried again. No answer. One last time. And I chucked my phone across the room. He was cheating on me. Nothing else made sense. I buried my face into a corner of the couch and forced the tears to stay at bay. I wasn’t going to cry. Maybe Dean was following Kurt. Maybe his phone had died. I couldn’t just make assumptions. I had to trust him.

 

I couldn’t even trust my own uterus, as it turned out. I fished out a fresh set of clothes from my bike’s compartment and made my way back into the apartment. I wasn’t about to bleed through my jeans. I opened the door and stepped inside.

“Oh there you are.” Madison said with a smile. She was making coffee in the kitchen. “I’ve got milk and cereal. Is that alright?”

“Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably. “Um, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick.”

“Of course. Um…” Madison’s eyes grew wide when she spotted me. “Is that blood?”

Okay great. This was embarrassing. But play it cool. This was normal human being stuff. “Yeah, sorry. My calendar–”

I never got to finish the sentence as I was forced to duck away. Madison flew at me with impossibly wide blue eyes and nails that were a hundred times longer than they were the night before. “Madison?” I said in shock.

She bared her teeth– no– fangs. A growl left her and she lunged again. I ran to the bedroom, locking the door. She snarled again.

I gripped my gun and kept it aimed at the door. My heart was racing, my head was pounding, and Satan was still partying. Madison had been the werewolf all along? It was hard to believe.

It wasn’t my first time fighting a werewolf, but most werewolves we’d dealt with were just bloodthirsty cold killers who planned their kills months in advance.

Madison hadn’t seemed like it at all.

And yet, here we were, with her clawing at the door and me aiming a gun at it in case she bust through. Which she obviously would. She was a werewolf. Werewolves had superior strength compared to humans.

Wait, so if Madison was the werewolf, then who was Dean following? Was he even still following him? Was Dean actually–

My spiraling thoughts were broken because of a particularly loud snarl. It didn’t take long for the wood to start splintering. Madison’s claws clawed out and I took my shot. The silver burned through her hands as she shrieked and fell back.

“You shot me!” She suddenly cried, very humanly.

Humanly? “Madison?” I kept my gun raised even as she cowered on the floor.

“My God. I'm bleeding–” She gasped. “It burns!” She looked up in a terrified daze. “Why would you– What did you do to me?!”

“Well, more like what were you going to do to me?” I demanded. “You were the werewolf all along!”

“Werewolf?” She clenched her hand to her chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend.” I raised my gun. She scrambled backwards. “This is just a sick game to you, isn’t it? Pretending to be the sweet sweet woman with a stalker of an ex boyfriend. And then brutally eating the hearts of your victims?”

She laughed in disbelief. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re a werewolf.”

“Werewolves don’t exist.” she insisted again. Her lip trembled. “I don’t know what you’re thinking– but whatever it is, it’s wrong ! Werewolves are fantasies!” She started crying. The tears looked genuine. Her face was scrunched up and it was pretty hard to fake crying like that. Still, my eyes didn’t deceive me that bad. The broken bedroom door was enough of a proof that whatever I’d seen wasn’t an illusion. She was a werewolf. And I had to do my job. Like any other case.

“Whatever, werewolf.” I felt a twinge of guilt when my bullet pierced through her chest and lodged itself into her heart. But again. “Just a job.” I told myself.

“Sharon!” Dean yelled as he skidded to a stop in the hallway. He was holding his gun in his hand. “Oh.” He looked down at the floor where Madison lay in a pool of her own blood in her own apartment. “Hey–” He paled when he saw me. “You’re bleeding.”

I was? I looked down and noticed the red stain on my jeans. I slammed my palm onto my forehead. Hell forbid a woman tried to kill a werewolf.

 

“Okay, so now I have not so bloody clothes.” I said, presenting my freshly washed jeans from the sink. “But we also have a very bloody corpse.”

“And a bloody head.” Dean winced as he finished patching up the cut just below his hairline.

“So…” I shifted my feet awkwardly. “You really were knocked out last night?”

“Huh?” He looked up with a slight daze as my words registered. “Yeah. Concussion. I think.”

“How did you know it was Madison?"

“Kind of hard not to when you find her with a heart in her mouth.” He shuddered at the mental image. “She killed Kurt.”

“Oh.” I continued staring at him sitting on the couch. “And the strip club?”

He raised his head again, before a cheeky grin graced his stupidly pretty lips. “Kurt was at the strip club.” He pushed himself off the couch and took slow steps in my direction. “I was watching him.” When his hand reached for my elbow, I didn’t even flinch away. “And nothing else.” His green eyes looked earnest. I supposed I did trust him more than I thought I did. But of course, he still threw in a joke for good measure. “You wanna pull up the CCTV footage? I got some strange looks when I didn’t even glance at the woman trying to give me a lap dance.”

I snorted. “That better be the truth.”

“Told you. You can check.”

His breath fanned my face. If I tilted my chin up enough, I could kiss him. And kiss him I did.

He looked genuinely surprised. “You’re actually not gonna check?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to be the toxic partner?”

He kissed me again. “Ain’t nothing toxic if you’ve got a good reason to be jealous.” His hands slid down to hold my hips and pull me against him. “It’s kind of hot.” I could feel the left corner of his lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk, and I felt myself smiling against his mouth too.

Somewhere in the apartment complex, a door was slammed shut. Oh. right. There was a dead body at our feet. Umm… “We should get out of here.” I whispered.

He glanced over my shoulder at the dead body in the apartment. “Shit, you’re right.”

 

“Really, Dean?” I glared at the ridiculous amount of cheese he was adding to his already cheesy burger.

“What?” He sidled up next to me with my caesar salad in hand. He placed it on my lap and grabbed the remote for the TV, licking grease from his fingers. “Tastes good.”

“No.” I said simply.

He rolled his eyes. “Pay per view?”

“I will kill you if you put explicit activities on the TV.” I threatened. The gun was right under my pillow.

He smacked his lips as he debated. “Never mind. We can watch Disney.” He flicked through the channels.

“The Suite Life of Zack and Cody?” I recognised that name.

“Wait, you’re seriously gonna watch this?”

“I watched the offbrand Indian version of this.” I felt tears stinging my eyes for the dumbest reason. “It was called the Suite Life of Karan and Kabir. Never liked it.”

“You want me to change it?

I grabbed his hand before he could. “No. Just…” I swallowed the growing lump. “Just let it play.”

He didn’t say much after that. Just pulled me closer by the waist, still licking cheese and grease and whatever burger gunk off his fingers. I sank against his arm, my mind flitting to forgotten memories. Of sitting in my grandparents’ house watching TV, yelling at my grandfather because he stood in front of it every damn time, my grandmother cutting vegetables on the smaller couch because we wanted to spend time together, my brother threatening to steal my Nerf gun if I didn’t give him attention, my cousins running up the stairs and flopping down next to me demanding some other random show… Yeah. I missed those days. It had been a good decade and a half since I last saw any of my extended family. And a full decade since I saw my own.

I swiped at my tears and laughed at the terrible sitcom jokes, Dean’s hands sliding up and down my back every time I laughed a little too loudly or breathed too shakily. Oh how I loved the man next to me. As the credits rolled, I gave a content sigh into his shoulders. “You can have the rest.” I pushed my half eaten salad in his direction.

“Sweetheart, I’m not about to eat leaves like a cow.”

“Cows eat grass.”

“They’re both green. Shut up.”

“Never.” But I did when he kissed the top of my head. I automatically relaxed further, letting him push me into a sleeping position under the covers. “Gotta brush my teeth.”

“They won’t fall off if you take a day off.”

“I gotta change.” I tried to fight the sleep that was starting to take over. “I’ll bleed onto the stupid bed.”

He refused to let me move, trapping me under his arm as he too got under the covers. “We’ll change the stupid sheets.”

“Dammit…” He always convinced me to go against my routine. “This is all on you.”

“G’night sweetheart.”

“G’night.”

 

“Fuck!”

I heard Dean gasp. I reached under my pillow, grasping the cold metal. “Dean?” I asked into the seemingly empty room. But there was the sound of heavy breathing, that did not match my husband’s snores, or the groan of the perpetually struggling AC unit.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. At the foot of our bed, stood a man, with blood in his mouth, trying to dig his fangs into something. He screamed every now and then.

Dean. Fucking hell, he was on Dean .

I raised my gun and shot. It went right through this strange man’s– no– werewolf’s arm– werewolf?! My gun was loaded with iron. As was Dean’s. The knife.

I lunged for the silver knife, the same time the werewolf lunged at me. I went stumbling to the floor, but now the blade was in hand. I flipped around just in time to feel the werewolf pinning my hands above my head. I kicked at him, but he wouldn’t budge. He was too strong. The werewolf’s eyes were too wide for his face, his fangs literally tearing through his lips, and his breath smelled like dead humans.

“Sharon…” I heard Dean weakly gasp. Dammit!

“Too chicken to bite a hunter?” I provoked the werewolf. He took the bait.

The werewolf snarled and tightened his hold on my wrists. He lowered his mouth to my neck. He was distracted now. Big mistake. I forced my left ring finger to twitch. Bingo. He howled in pain as his skin made contact with my silver ring.

I tensed my right leg while the werewolf was distracted and rammed it straight between his legs. He gave another high pitched howl and rolled off of my exhausted body. But it would take more than that to kill a werewolf.

“Dean!” I cried. I tossed the silver blade to him.

He caught it and dove for the werewolf, stabbing it right through the heart. The blade sank into the rotting floorboards without a sound, and just like that, the werewolf was dead.

“That motherfucking werewolf was Glen.” Dean spat as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His sleeve had been shredded to ribbons and blood soaked into them. He hissed and felt his wound. “This one’s gonna need stitches.” He walked over to me and helped me sit up. “Where’re the damn lights…” He muttered, reaching up to the nightstand to fumble for the lightswitch with his good arm. Once he did turn it on, his face dimmed. “Hey–”

“Just shallow cuts.” I told him. “He missed major arteries and veins.” Blood wasn’t spurting out like a fountain. “Most of this is his blood.” I looked at the deep gouge in his shoulder. I hissed. “And yours.” I glanced down. “And mine. But that’s a different problem.”

“I’ll buy you chocolate tomorrow.” Dean promised.

“Sit down.” I pushed on his legs. “I’ll patch you up. And then we can report this body. And we can be out of here.”

“Sounds good to me.”

 

“Again.” John said begrudgingly into the phone. “He wants me to be the officiant.”

I smiled and crossed my ankles over Dean’s thighs. “Come on John. Poor kid is running out of roles for us. I’m a groomsmaid apparently.”

“Too bad he can’t be walked down the aisle.” Dean snickered.

“You hear that?” I laughed. “He could be in a dress.”

I could almost picture John flinching. “No son of mine is going to be in a dress.” But I could also hear the contemplation in his voice. If Sam did show up wearing a dress, John would be shocked, try to deny it, but end up accepting it with a million complaints. “Can’t you be a bridesmaid?”

I sighed wistfully. “I’ll wear a dress, John. I'll just be on the guy’s side. And I’m not about to be a guest when such an important role has been offered to me.”

John groaned. “Fine. whatever. You guys can decide the details. Just let me know a week in advance.”

“Sure thing.” I leaned back against Baby’s door. “I’m gonna hang up now.”

John grunted on the other side. And the line went dead.

I sighed. “One adult down. One more to go.” I ignored my buzzing phone. I hated phone calls. I hated having to send everyone a ‘I’m still alive!’ message.

“And then there’s our not so little little guy.” Dean said affectionately.

I looked up at where Dean was single handedly driving Baby. “You sure you don’t want me to drive for a bit?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If I let you drive then I’ll have my knees to worry about too.”

I kicked him with a huff. “I hate you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart. Sure you do.” He went silent, but the radio continued blasting rock music. I didn’t know who the artist was, or even what song was playing, but Dean looked content, and I wasn’t gonna complain about that. “So,” He leaned back. “Madison.”

“What about her?”

“She didn’t even know she was a werewolf, did she?”

“Probably not.” I tried not to think about it.

“I heard her and you.” He said softly. “You said it was ‘just a job’.”

“It is just a job.” I reminded him.

“I know when you say that. And you say that when you’re guilty about killing something.”

“Are you saying I should get all sappy and convince myself killing her was the wrong thing to do?”

“No, I’m just saying…” He sighed. “If you wanna talk…” He looked awkward.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I turned my head away to the front of the highway. It seemed to go on and on forever. “Madison was a werewolf. And she needed to be put down. That’s all there is to it.”

Dean hummed, unconvinced. “I could have shot her.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna show up.”

“Sweetheart, I’m never not gonna show up for you.”

“Well. You did get knocked out.” I pointed out. “And when you’re down, I have to be able to defend myself, right?” I pulled my gun out of my back pocket. “Never thought I would actually be holding a gun, let alone using it.” I made sure the safety was on before testing the weight of it in my palms. Dean didn’t even flinch when I raised it. That was how much he trusted me. “Don’t get me wrong, Dean. I appreciate you looking out for me and everything, but…” I let the gun drop into my lap. “I’m strong too. I can do what needs to be done. And I don’t wanna be told ‘you didn’t have to’ when it comes to killing something that needs to be killed.”

His adam's apple bobbed as he thought of what to say. “I’m just saying. You could be back with Sam and Jess. Wedding planning and all that crap.”

As my phone buzzed again, I snorted. “Planning. I’m still getting asked questions left and right. Like Jessica is always on the phone with her mom, and Sam is always asking me questions like ‘do I pay for the cake in installments’ or ‘which venue do I pick’ and I’m over here trying to manage two panicking hunters that practically raised us all.” I crossed my arms and sagged further into the vinyl seats. “Look, I just wanna be there when something happens, alright? I want all of you Winchesters alive.”

“Yeah.” he clicked his tongue. “You tend to forget you’re a Winchester too now.”

…

Huh.

I wasn’t sure why it hit me like that. I knew I was a Winchester. I’d come to terms with it on our wedding night when Dean had whispered Mrs. Winchester to me, and John had fought back tears when Dean had proudly showed me off to him, matching rings and all. Sam had had a meltdown when he’d presented us with the rings, and Bobby had been glaring at the papers that I now signed with Sharon Winchester instead of Sharon Maris.

So yeah, I was a Winchester, by name, by legal documents, but I’d never realised that the men here truly thought of me as their own.

“I guess the demons are gonna have to avoid me too then.” I mused.

Dean smirked. “Damn right, Mrs. Winchester.”

Ah hell, I kept falling more and more in love.

Notes:

Sam and Jess will return next chap :)

Chapter 44: Hollywood Babylon

Notes:

Warnings:
1. Racism. (literally any Indian that doesn't fit Hollywood's mold of Indian will have faced this at some point in their lives)
There's probably gonna be some inconsistencies cause I wrote this over two weeks.

 

I scanned over the list of demands from Jessica once again.

“Dude. These are like,” I flipped to the next page. “Hundred thousand dollar wedding dress stores. She’s seriously gonna hit all of them.”

Dean’s brows shot up to his hairline. “What?”

“Sam is not funding this.” I closed the little notebook I had to fill out with the youngest Winchester’s and his fiancee’s demands. “Jessica did say that her parents were paying for this. But Sammy wanted to pay half… Yeah no.”

Dean whistled. “Sam got himself a rich girl.”

“Yeah. But humble.” I hummed. “And a little too adventurous.” I shuddered at the memory of her with the stake in her hand.

“She’s a good girl.” Dean hummed his approval.

I skipped happily next to him. Sam and Jessica had decided to fly into Los Angeles for the annual family trip to Hollywood over Saint Patrick’s weekend. Even John had grunted to Dean that he would be joining us at some point during a phone call. I gasped at the sight of the craft stores. “Dean!” I tugged on his arm. “Can we go inside?”

“Huh?” He blanched at the sight of the skeins of yarn. “Oh, sweetheart. There’s a bunch in the trunk already. Are you sure you need more?”

“I’ll let you take me to Victoria’s Secret.”

“Deal.”

 

And that was how I ended up with three new babydolls and four bags of crafts supplies.

“When’re you gonna use all of that?” Dean eyed my bags warily.

“Oh, I’ll find time.” I waved him off.

“Uhuh.” He deadpanned. “Sure.” He led the way to Baby who was parked under the burning California sun. He opened the passenger side door, hissing when his hands touched the hot metal. I laughed, but then hissed myself when I realised that my bare legs were making full contact with the heated seats.

Dean got into the driver’s side and smirked as I tried to shift to somewhere cooler. “Those thighs look real hot right now.”

“Shut up, Dean before I burn all of this.” I gestured to his picks. “And lace? You want me to be itching the whole time?”

“Not if I take them off.” He waggled his eyebrows.

I slapped his arm. Jerk. But my face was red. He was right. Men didn’t buy their women lingerie to see them in it. And as one wise fanfiction had once said ‘A man dresses their woman to undress them’.

I curled up in the passenger’s side and started fishing out my new yarn.

“Already?” Dean scoffed. “You’re gonna turn my Baby into some cat’s litter box.”

“Shh.” I shushed him. “Just let me be.”

 

“Oh my God. I haven’t been here in so long.” I heard Jessica gush to Sam.

I just blinked at her statement. She really did grow up in California didn’t she? This was my and Dean’s and Sam’s maybe second time doing the Warner Brother’s trolley tour and we came here once every year without fail. It sounded like Jessica came to visit the Studio every Sunday like Church.

“First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades.” the tour guide said.

Dean leaned into my side to whisper. “Hey, you know this is where they filmed Creepshow?”

“What?” I whispered back.

“Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow. It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls.” Jessica smirked and nudged Sam. “And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars.” Sam stiffened at the tour guide’s announcement Oh . It was that episode. The funny one with the overly chill producer or whatever. Well. This was gonna be fun.

Jessica whispered something else to Sam that sent him blushing furiously and jumping off the trolley.

“I sense humiliation.” Dean muttered in my ear. And I nodded.

We needed to get that tea later. “I’ll hunt down Jessica.”

“I got Sam.”

And the two of us hopped off the trolley too.

“Guys, check it out, it's Matt Damon!” Dean said excitedly.

“Who?” I asked.

“Where?” Jessica whipped around.

“Dean, that's not Matt Damon.” Sam sighed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not Matt Damon.”

“But what if it is?” Jessica whispered.

“Well, ‘Matt Damon’” Sam made exaggerated air quotes. “just picked up a broom and started sweeping.”

“Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something.”

“Uhuh.” I said half amused. “That’s just the janitor.”

Jessica giggled into Sam’s arm. “Oh look. It’s Stage 9.” She pointed to a set.

“What about Stage 9?” Sam asked.

Jessica shook her head. “It was on the news. Some poor crew member died on set.” An excited glint appeared in her eyes. “Rumor’s spreading online saying that the set is haunted.” She pretended to be uninterested, but the way she kept batting her lashes at Sam told me she wanted to investigate. “This could be something, you know?”

“Like Poltergeist?” Dean asked.

“Like the movie?”

Dean lit up. “Yeah, like the movie.”

“What about the movie?” I asked Dean.

His jaw dropped open in shock. “You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you?” He shook his head dramatically. “It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it.”

“Okay. So that's good and all.” Sam paused in his walk, making the rest of us stop too. “But Jess and I came here to relax. Not get caught up in another case.”

Jessica turned to Dean who echoed his brother’s thoughts. “Yeah. Sharon deserves a break. It’s just been cases back to back for the two of us.” His hand rested gently on the small of my back. “Thought we could use some R and R.”

Jessica’s face fell.

“You know Jessica’s the one who brought it up, right? And I’m a little sore from the previous case, but it’s not like I’m gonna ignore something happening just to chill.” I pointed out. The blonde perked up. “Wouldn’t hurt to tour the set a little bit. Ask around a bit… check some stuff out? I mean it’s still Hollywood.”

Sam looked down at his excited fiancee and gave in. “Fine. What’s this guy’s name?”

“Frank Jaffey.” Jessica answered immediately. She fished into her jacket pocket. “And the girl who found him said she saw a vanishing figure.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose as he realised this was gonna be an actual job. “And-and–” She leaned down excitedly to whisper. “The girl who found him was Tara Benchley.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From FeardotCom and Ghost Ship, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?”

Jessica grinned and I rolled my eyes. “Of course that’s what gets you into this.”

Jessica looped her arm through mine, squealing. “I knew I found something!”

Behind us, I could hear Sam hissing to Dean. “What happened to supporting me, Dean?” And Dean hissing back. “It’s Tara Benchley dude!”

 

Jessica got mistaken for an applicant to be an extra. Obviously. With her long legs, and her perfect curls it was only a matter of time before someone assumed that she was one of the pretty girls who’d lined up for the ten dollars an hour paycheck.

And I was uneventfully and quite hurtfully asked to go and clean the bathrooms.

‘Racist’, I mouthed after the man that had just demanded it. But obviously, I wasn’t going to unclog a men’s restroom. They were filthy. I’d lived nearly every day of my life with a male in the same house and yeah, hell no.

Instead, I walked over to Jessica and managed to mingle into the sea of extras. Thank goodness for being a wallflower.

“This looks freaky.” Jessica whispered, leaning down.

“I know right?” I whispered back. “It’s like moths to a flame–”

“You and you!” The man selecting the extras suddenly shouted. “You two will do.”

“Us?” Jessica and I looked up in shock.

I squinted up at her surprise. She was gorgeous, of course she got selected, she shouldn’t even be surprised. But me?

The question was written all over my face clearly because the man shrugged. “We need diversity. And you look plain enough. Can you do a Spanish accent?”

“I’m Indian.”

“You’re not brown enough.” The man frowned. I wanted to kill him. “Damn, the rest are blonde or black.” He turned back to me. “Then do an Indian accent.” He was dying on the spot– That little piece of shi–

“Yeah she can.” Jessica’s blue eyes darted down to me. They screamed ‘just go along with it’. But I hadn’t even talked in my native tongue for nearly ten years. The accent wasn’t just something I could turn on and off. And my skin wasn’t brown enough? The hell did that even mean?! “Give her a minute to practice.”

The man shrugged. “Sure.”

I kicked a wad of tape on the floor at the man’s disappearing figure. “Racist little–”

“What are you two ladies up to?”

My heart jumped along with Jessica at the sudden voice. “Dean!” I jabbed a finger to his chest. “Don’t sneak up on us like that!”

Jessica gave a surprised laugh. “Where’s Sam?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Askin’ around.” He caught Jessica’s searching eyes. “He’s fine. Just a little sugar rush.” He passed me a weird looking hot dog. “Want one? It’s turkey.”

I blinked at it and shook my head. “No thanks. Looks saltier than the Dead Sea.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” And he put the whole thing in his mouth in one go. Wow. He was gonna die with a sick stomach one day.

“We’re gonna be in the film apparently.” I finally answered his initial question.

His eyes widened. “Like with Tara Benchley?”

“No. With Barack Obama.” I scoffed. “Of course with Tara Benchley.”

“Why do you look so pissed?”

“Because everyone here is racist as hell and now I have to do an Indian accent cause I’m not brown enough.”

“You do have an accent.”

“Well– Not a South Indian one as they’re expecting!” I threw my hands in defeat. “And hey, I’ve mastered the American accent. I’ve been stuck in this country for the past decade and a half.”

“Epi-tomb.” Dean smirked. “Sem-ee-circular.” His smirk didn’t falter when I jammed my boot into his shin.

“I hate you.” I huffed. But I was already feeling better. “So what’re you doing?”

“P.A.” He shoveled another mini hot dog. “They’re like slaves. But.” He held one out to Jessica who surprisingly accepted it. “The food is good. They feed them like Kings here. One sec.” He pressed his hand against his headset. “Yeah, copy that.” He grinned. “Gotta get back to work. You ladies have fun.”

 

“Why don't we take it from, ‘Come on, it'll be fun.’ Annnd… action!”

“So we’re just the ghosts?” I flipped through the script.

“Yeah.” Jessica squinted at her own. “We need to get our hair and makeup done. We’re gonna be ghosts!”

“They’re not filming our parts until tomorrow though.”

“They’re only filming it tomorrow.” Jessica reminded me. “I’m leaving Sunday night.”

“As you should.” I clicked my tongue. “Let’s check out the set.”

She bounced a little on the balls of her feet. “Do we get to walk around with EMF?”

“Um. Sure.”

And, so, under the pretense of checking out the set as research for our acting roles, we ended up climbing up the stairs to the top of the set where the lights hung and the staff worked on prepping the wires for stunts.

“Are you two supposed to be here?” someone asked.

Jessica and I put on our smiles like mindless dolls. “Oh, sorry we were just checking out the set!” “Yeah, we kinda just ended up here…” “We’re gonna be the ghosts that they see.” “Uhuh. Um, could you tell us where the bathroom is? My lipstick is starting to come off.”

We chattered so much that the staff member gave up and just pointed us down the stairs.

“No EMF.” I said as soon as we were back down. “We’re the only ghosts here.”

“Oh my God!” Jessica suddenly squealed.

“What?” I craned my neck to try and find her source of excitement.

“Dean is talking to Tara!” She lightly jogged her way over to the pair.

Well, as long as he wasn’t trying to get in her trailer for adult activities, I didn’t really care if he talked to some random woman.

“I’ve got his picture.” I heard Tara say.

“Whose picture?” Jessica leaned in too.

“Of this Frank guy.” Tara responded. Up close, she really was pretty. Cute brown hair, thin waist but curvy as needed. “I take Polaroids of all the crew. It's just one of those things you do to kill time on set.” She explained. She grabbed a binder and started flipping through the laminated pages. “Umm, here. Right here.”

“Son of a bitch…” Dean muttered as soon as he saw the picture. He speed walked away from us three women.

“What?” Tara looked up, almost upset at the loss of the man’s attention. “Did I say something wrong?” She asked me and Jessica.

“No. I don’t think so.” I tugged on Jessica’s arm as the woman too was stunned. “I think he just forgot something.”

“Tara!” the director called. Tara’s lips parted as she was torn between running after Dean or going back to film. She really was a sweet girl. Maybe I’d misjudged her.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.” I reassured her. “We’ll go after him. You should see what he wants.”

“Coming, McGee!” Tara finally said and swayed off to filming.

“What is up with you two?” I asked Jessica.

“That man!” She lowered her voice. “He’s supposed to be dead!”

What?

 

The four of us stood at the front door of the St. James residence as we had been informed by the local post office.

“Gerard St. James?” Dean asked when the door opened.

An old man stood in front of us, sighing. “Yes.”

“You’re still alive. And you’re not Frank Jaffey.” Sam said accusingly.

“Uh, no.” the man denied.

“You were Desert Soldier Number Four in Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn?” Dean remembered all of that?

Gerard eyed us with a hint of caution but also pride. “I was.”

“Oh yeah!” Jessica gasped. “I knew I recognized you. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in Critters 3?”

Sam and I stared at our respective partners quizzically. What kind of people had we gotten attached to?

“Critters 3!” Well, Frank– no Gerard– was enjoying the attention at least. “Well, please come in.” He stepped aside and happily ushered us in.

Sam looked at Dean and Jessica. “Are you two for real?”

“Hey, at least she has taste.” Dean teased.

“You implying something Dean?” I raised an eyebrow and his smirk fell.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.”

I walked past him to the sofa, smiling to myself when I heard him rushing behind me.

 

“Yeah, it was the producers. They brought me up for the day to play Frank.” Gerard said, putting down the coffee.

“Just to fake your death?” Dean was already helping himself to the bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie.” He sat back, proud. “It's already all over the Internet.”

“Yeah, we know.” Sam said over the rim of his mug.

“These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl.”

“Wait, then what about the ghost Tara saw?” Jessica asked.

“Projected on a screen of diffusion.”

“Isn’t it kinda mean to mess with people’s heads like that?” Imagine working on the bars near the ceiling and getting spooked because the set was haunted and falling to your death. I shuddered.

Gerard raised his hands in defense. “Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month.” He passed Dean a flyer. “You get a free pepper steak with the coupon.” I leaned over Dean’s shoulder and he passed the flyer to me to examine. Oh, it was steak. Beef. I folded it neatly and tucked it away. Maybe Dean and Sam and Jessica could go sometime.

“Now, wait a second. If you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?” Dean asked.

Gerard scoffed. “Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters.”

“You know what?” Sam put down his coffee mug. “Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. It was just nagging at us.” He ushered the rest of us off the couch. “But we're very glad… you know, you're alive and well.”

I looked down sadly at my mug. I’d finally finished mixing in the sugar…

“Hey, I wanted to ask you…” Dean either caught onto my dilemma or he was very invested in this guy. “What was it like working with Richard Moll?”

Sam looked confused. Jessica explained for Dean. “Metalstorm. He was Hurok, King of the Cyclops people.”

That did not help Sam or me. But we nodded along anyway.

“Well, thanks for coming over to talk.” Gerard stood up to shake our hands.

 

“Lowkey insane.” I said as I swung off my bike. Jessica hopped off the raised back and looked up at the dive bar.

“You actually like working these places?” She asked with amusement.

I shrugged. “Usually behind the bar. I prefer it over sitting and being a customer and a sitting duck when someone spikes my drink.” I chained my ride to the bike racks and walked right in through the front door.

The owner looked at me and then at Jessica. He whistled. “She workin’ tonight too?”

I glanced at Jessica. “No–”

“Why not?” She flashed a bright smile. “I bet I could wait some tables.” This girl was wilder than I thought.

 

“Okay, what do you mean, Jess is working with you?” Sam hissed into the phone.

I scoffed. “What was I supposed to do? Tie her up? Ground her for wanting to work?” I sighed. “It’s just extra cash Sam.”

“It’s shady .”

“It’s money .”

“What if a fight breaks out?”

“I’ve dealt with you and Dean, I think I can handle a couple of college drunkards.” I frowned when the smell of cigarettes infiltrated my nose. “I’m gonna go. Someone’s trying to kill me by second hand smoking.”

“Just make sure she’s fine.”

I smiled at the worry in his voice. “Alright. Shut up.”

 

The night was uneventful. Till it was. John Winchester came sauntering in, and the crowd parted like the ocean for Moses or whatever person in the Bible.

“Whiskey.” He said as soon as he sat down.

The young girl who had had the misfortune of being in front of him at the moment froze in fear. I pushed her aside and grabbed the man’s drink. “Comin’ right up.”

As I made his drink, he made conversation. “You kids working a case?”

I raised an eyebrow. In the middle of a crowded bar? Well, best place to have a secret conversation. Everyone was too busy with their friends and their drinks. “Yeah. On the haunted set or whatever. Dean has details.” Someone passed me something to shake. “You wanna do it with us?”

“Tara Benchley is in it, I heard.” He took a sip.

“You know her too?” Someone yelled at me to wipe the counters.

He shrugged. “Dean likes her.”

“Oh.”

“Watched her since she was a child actor. Silly little crush.”

“For his sake I hope it’s no longer any kind of crush.” I told him.

He smirked. “You have him wrapped around your finger, I don’t think that son of mine is going anywhere.”

Literally. I twisted the silver ring. “Anything else?”

“No. I’m gonna go see the boys.” He put down a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Oh hell yeah I was going to keep the change.

“Friend of yours?” One of the guys asked. “He’s a little too old, no?”

“Nope.” I spun on my heel. “Just my father in law.”

The man’s double take was enough to keep me grinning the rest of the night.

 

Jessica came out yawning and stumbling. John stood by his truck, waiting for the two of us. “4:00 AM? Really?” He scolded. “In this part of town? I’ve told you not to stay past 11:00 at bars.”

Time to put on my best pout and whine. “But you walked in at 10:30!”

“Sharon.” He crossed his arms.

I gave up the act. It was too late for this. I shrugged. “Five hundred bucks.” My wallet was feeling happy at least.

Jessica yawned again and John opened the back door of his truck, helping the girl up. “Don’t wanna hear a word from you when you leave for filming.” He slammed the door shut.

I froze. “Oh shi–” I bit my tongue. I looked at my watch. “I have an hour to sleep.” I walked towards his truck, but John raised an eyebrow.

“You’re driving home on your own, missy.” John opened his own door “And then you’re going straight to the set.”

“Ugh!”

 

“I don’t think you need any makeup.” Dean said, brushing my bangs back from my forehead. “You look miserable.” He messed up my hair a little more. “Like a real ghost.” He teased. And I was entirely too tired to protest.

Jessica slumped in her seat and rhythmic puffs of air left her now painted blood red lips. That girl was sleeping. “She’s happy.” I rolled my eyes.

“Your hair is fine.” one of the makeup artists said as she walked up to me. Great. Thanks. So I naturally looked like a ghost. “We’re just gonna put some colour on your face. You’re looking a little too pale.”

“Thought ghosts were supposed to be pale.” I squinted at the clock. “It’s only 6:00 in the morning, just lemme get some sleep and I’ll be colorful.”

“We need you looking perfect.” the woman continued mixing paint in her palette anyway.

Dean raised an eyebrow when the wet paint touched my cheek. “She’s not that dark.”

“The director wants her browner.” Alright. People were dying. Before I could kick the woman, Dean was pressing down on my thigh. “What?” the lady frowned.

“Sorry her leg bounces when she’s nervous.” Dean lied. “Didn’t want that messing up the makeup.”

“You know what else wouldn’t mess up my makeup?” I said angrily. “Giving me the right shade.”

“It’s just a role.” the woman said quietly.

She wasn’t wrong. It was just acting. I sighed. We also needed to stay on set somehow. So I just sucked it up. “Fine. But it doesn’t mean I have to love it.”

Dean got called away a short while later, and Jessica kept snoring. I would have taken a power nap too if the heat hadn’t been so blistering hot and the makeup so stifling and the stupid director yelling at me to reread the stupid script over and over again.

 

“When we read from that book, we must have brought them back. Back from hell.” one of the actors said.

“Isn’t this scarily accurate?” Jessica whispered to me as we watched from the benches.

“Yeah that’s accurate Latin.” I said back.

“But I don't understand. If they were in hell, how could they hear our chanting?” one of the other actors said.

“They must have super-hearing!” the original actor sassed.

And then the ceiling broke. “Wow, that’s even more realistic.” I mused. A dead body jerked downwards, held a few inches above the ground only by a noose. “Damn.”

Jessica suddenly stiffened and gripped my arm. “That wasn’t in the script.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t in the script!”

 

“They’re gonna keep filming?” Sam stared slack jawed. “They’re just gonna brush it off as a suicide?”

“Might be for more publicity.” Dean shrugged.

Well it wasn’t.

The sun continued beating down on us. Jessica looked at home in her pale ghost makeup and tattered flowy white gown. Her hair had been tousled stylishly and yeah, she was carrying it well. Me? Not so much. I’d already had my hand held back three times by the gorgeous blonde next to me because my eyes were itching from the mascara. And not to mention, I’d sweated through the red rag they’d thrown on me because Indians wear nothing but red apparently. There were pit stains on the costume and my hair had gone through five different iterations of a bedhead in the past few hours.

“You need more water?” Sam offered.

“Sure Sam. My misery can be cured with another drop of water.” My voice had come out more clipped than I’d wanted, but Sam just shrugged. Thank goodness he’d gotten used to me being moody.

“Hey,” Jessica pushed me her plate full of fries. “You want some of this?”

I looked down at my cole slaw and looked at her empty one. “Wanna trade?”

She grinned. “Exactly what I’d hoped for.”

 

“Oh Mitch! You’re alive!” ‘Wendy’ exclaimed.

‘Mitch’ smirked. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“Rumble rumble rumble.” McG said loudly. Stage directions were weird. No wonder post took as long as the actual filming.

‘Wendy’ looked around and nodded solemnly. “Salt. Okay, we need salt. I read in that book that it keeps ghosts away.”

“Kendra, Logan, you guys check the back.” ‘Mitch’ directed. And everyone split up.

I zoned out as the scene droned on. By the time I snapped back, the scene was ending. “I love you Mitch.” whispered ‘Wendy’.

“I know.” ‘Mitch’ whispered back. But his flashlight accidentally shone bright in ‘Wendy’s’ face. “Sorry.”

‘Wendy’ broke character. “Can we cut or something?” Tara sighed.

McG flitted through his script. “Uh… yeah! Cut! Cut! That’s a cut!”

“That’s a cut!” Dean’s voice echoed. And the other PAs echoed it back one by one. I found myself smiling as Dean bit into his taquito again.

On my way over to him, I overheard Tara talking to McG. “I just can't wrap my head around the dialogue, you know? Salt? Doesn't that sound silly? I mean, why would a ghost be afraid of salt?” She said in frustration.

Dean caught my eye and grinned. ‘Can you believe this?’ his eyes said.

“Okay, um… Marty?” McG turned to the other man.

“Not married to salt, what do you want? We still sticking with condiments?”

“It just sounds different, not better. What else would a ghost be scared of?”

“Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.” This was a different guy. This one had sidled up next to Jessica and was mumbling under his breath.

“What would a ghost be scared of? Maybe shotguns.” Marty mused.

McG scoffed. “Okay, that makes even less sense than salt.”

“These people are idiots.” The other guy muttered and walked away.

Dean whistled. “Walter's a little testy for a P.A., huh?”

An arm slung around Jessica and she looked up with a smile. “How's it going in here?”

“It is going really good, man. Tara's really stepped up her performance.” Dean continued munching on his taquitos. “I think it's probably from all the sense memory stuff she's drawing on.” He held out his plate to us. “Taquito?”

Sam frowned. “Sense memory?” He shook his head. “Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A.”

Dean shrugged. “I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?” He winked at me. “Lovely ladies too.”

“Ok.” Sam sighed. “Look. um…” He brought his voice lower. “Dad and I conned our way into the morgue.”

“And?”

“News reports were right. Brad’s a doornail, no question.”

“Copy that.” Dean said into his headset. “I’m sorry what?”

“Copy that?”

“Should we go?” Jessica whispered to me. “They seem a little busy with each other.”

I nodded. “Let’s go check out the rest of the set. Ask around… see if anyone saw anything.”

 

“Okay, so Dave has stuff to show us.” Jessica said proudly. She showed off the tape we’d gotten off of some random PA named Dave.

“Dave?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “That guy talked to you?”

I pointed at Jessica. “Have you seen her? Men bend over backwards to talk to this beauty.”

“Oh please.” Jessica gushed. “Anyway, I got this.”

The four of us crowded into our trailer – surprise even extras got their own trailers – and we slipped the video tape into the drive. We skipped to the part where the guy from yesterday had hanged. And just before he fell through the roof of the wooden hut on set, Sam told us to pause.

“Hey, wait, go back, go back.”

I pressed the back button and the screen flickered as I rewound.

“Right after. Right aft- yeah right. Wait. There.”

On screen was a set that was completely different than the one we were filming in. and a woman in white stood there, staring deep into the camera.

“That’s not me.” Jessica gasped.

“It's like Three Men and a Baby all over again.” Dean mused.

“What?” Sam and I looked at him in confusion.

“Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg, right?” Jessica wondered aloud. “And… I don't know who played the baby.”

“Okay, so, like… what does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

“There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film.” Dean explained. “Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography.”

Oh yeah. It was something we’d used on our own cases. To Jessica though it probably sounded like an urban legend.

“Wait.” Sam grabbed my hand before I could take out the tape.

“What?”

“I think I’ve seen that woman before.”

 

Jessica and I were finally called in for filming. The boys were still figuring out who the woman was. Dean was playing PA, and at some point, I’d seen John wander on set and chatting with some older woman who was sighing more than anything else.

“Okay, so just reach out your arms, and say… ‘send me back to my village’.” At this point, I’d decided to just laugh at their narrow minded view. Of course I came from a village and I was illiterate and a child bride. What Indian woman wasn’t?

With my best and worst thick accent of literally no region of the subcontinent, I repeated my lines, held up my arms, pulled back my red veil staring into the camera, and called it a day. Jessica went through something similar, albeit she was droning on and on like a zombie about her farmer husband and her sister stealing her childhood lover or something. Because all female ghosts had something to do with marriage, obviously.

“That's a wrap, people! 6:00 AM call for crew tomorrow!” someone announced.

“The director wants a few more scenes with you two.” one of the PAs said. “Stick around.”

Jessica and I looked at each other and shrugged.

 

“Still can’t get over the fact that your dad taught you to snoop around.” Jessica said. Then she turned to John. “You actually encourage this?”

John stiffened up. “I don’t need you questioning how to raise my boys.”

Annnd the wall was up.

“Dad. Don't talk to her like that.” Sam jumped in.

“Not again.” Dean shifted nervously. “We’re not going to fight, are we?”

Sam continued glaring at his Dad. “Well he seems to want to pick one.”

“Sam.” John said lowly.

Dean stood between the two men and stared down Sam even with his shorter height. “Back up Sam.”

“Not until he apologises.”

Jessica placed her hand on Sam’s back. “Sam, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Sam’s eyes flickered to her, but they landed back on his dad. “Doesn’t excuse how he said it.”

Great. Now everyone was tense. I shook the map to make it rustle. “Boys. We have a map to follow.” John snatched it out of my hand. This time, Dean bristled. I gave him a warning look, and he reluctantly dropped his shoulders. “So? Where is it?”

“This is the wrong cemetery.” He looked at me with a frown. “Who let her hold the map?”

The ‘you did’ was written all over the others’ faces, but none dared to speak up. Wimps. I raised my hands in defense. “You gave it to me.” The other three looked terrified at what John might say, but I stood my nonchalant ground. John closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

 

“How do you do it?” Jessica asked me. The two of us sat at the entrance to the cemetery, looking out for guards or anyone that might come traipsing in the middle of the night.

“Do what?”

“You know. Say those things to his face and not-” she shuddered. “Get yelled at.”

“Oh.” She was talking about John. “I dunno.”

“Surely there’s something.” She threw her head back in frustration. “Sam always said he was abusive.”

“Not so much abusive as emotionally constipated.” I kicked at nothing. “Sam’s always been expressive. He feels a lot, and he expresses it a lot. John too, it just doesn’t come out right. And those two are more similar than not so it just makes them clash even more.”

“Still.” She chewed her lip. “Kicked him out when he said he wanted to go to college. Cut off all contact two years in.”

“That… might have been my fault.” I whispered.

Jessica’s lips parted and closed. “So you do hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” We’d been over this. “You were meant to die that night.”

“In the fire.”

“Yeah.” I could still feel the burn and throb in my stomach. “Azazel was supposed to. You were meant to burn on the ceiling. Like Mary.” I let out a breath. “I just wanted to protect Sam from the heartbreak.” I smiled bitterly at the memory of Sam screaming into the phone. “He wanted to be with you. So he cut off all contact with me.” I twisted the ring on my finger. “Dean and John tried to talk to him. They only wanted the best for him, and they’d figured out that I had a reason.” A lump began forming in my throat. Stupid feelings. But the memory hurt. And it was probably good that it hurt. “For telling him to not go to Stanford. For telling him to not date you. We just wanted the best for him. But the kid’s too stubborn. He cut off contact with all of us after a particularly bad fight with John.” I looked up at her blue eyes. “I have nothing against you. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. I do like you. I just didn’t want anything bad to happen.”

Her long fingers curled over mine and she squeezed. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

“You know you suck at feelings too.”

I scoffed. “Oh yeah thanks for the newsflash.”

“Sam said you and Dean are similar.”

Were we now? I fiddled with my ring. I used to think that back in the day. Dean was dedicated to his brother, would give his life for that kid. He would deal with his Dad’s tantrums just to keep the fragile peace within his family. And I would do the same. Anything to keep the family together. I swallowed back the tears. “You think so?” Because I was much more selfish than Dean.

“Yeah. You both are selfless.” She cracked a smile. “When it comes to family anyway.”

No. Not really. I just wanted Dean and Sam to be happy. For my own happiness. That was definitely selfish.

 

“Okay great. Another dead body.” I groaned.

“Run-in with a giant fan. Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.” Sam rattled.

“What the hell, dude?” Dean shook his head.

“I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O.”

“We already torched Elise. It can’t be her.” John muttered.

“So it’s another ghost?” Jessica asked.

“It’s not like them to tag team.” John pointed out.

“So…” Jessica dragged. “What the fuck?”

 

“Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make.” McG yelled. Everyone filed in and soon a crowd was gathered in front of the man. The Winchesters, and I and Jessica hung back in the back of the crowd, taking in the announcement. “Hold that for me.” McG said to a P.A. who suddenly had a hot cup of coffee placed in his open palm. He hissed, but no one cared. They really were slaves, huh? “Everyone! Huddle in! In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days. I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week. But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And that was to see Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning on screens all across America! Now, we owe it to them to go on and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?” The crowd cheered like idiots. Man, some people really got manipulated so easy. “But not today. Go home. Someone will call you.”

Some groaned, some punched the air in triumph, others shrugged. But the crowd dissipated nonetheless.

“Let’s go to our trailer.” I jingled the keys I’d swiped off the desk earlier. “We still have it.”

 

I locked the trailer door behind me as the five of us settled inside. Sam turned on a recording on the T.V., and John frowned when Wendy started speaking. “Isn’t that accurate Latin?” Finally someone realised!

“Oh yeah.” Jessica glanced at me. “You did say this was real Latin.”

I nodded furiously.

“Sharon, give me that flat screen of yours.” John held out a hand. I placed my iPad in his palm and he spent five minutes trying to remember how to open it.

“Thumbprint, John.” I reminded. “Just put your thumb on the circle.”

He scoffed as if he knew all along. He scrolled through several incantations neatly stored on the device before landing on the one he wanted. “Replay the scene.” He commanded. Dean wound back the tape.

A moment later, John stood up with purpose. Dean copied his motion.

“What?” Sam demanded.

Without another word John handed him the tablet and walked out of the trailer. “Who wrote the script?” He questioned.

“Um– Marty.” Jessica faltered when John grunted a ‘where’. “The-the third office on the right of the studio hallway.” As the oldest Winchester stormed off she turned to me with wide blue eyes. “Seriously, how do you deal with that?”

“Men are suckers for daughters.” I smirked. “A little bit of pouting and attitude and strategic tantrums and whines and they’re putty.” It was how I’d gotten through in life. “Works on women too.”

“I never mastered it.” Sam frowned.

I patted his arm. “It’s alright Sammy. Just get rid of your little one downstairs and a little work up here, and you’ll be golden.”

Dean howled with laughter and Sam shoved my shoulder. “Not funny.” he muttered, but he couldn’t hide his blush when Jessica told him she would become lesbian if he did transition. “Not funny, guys!”

Dean nudged me out the trailer. “Okay, we should, uh, follow Dad.”

“Sure!” Sam playfully shook his fist in my direction and followed Dean out, Jessica hanging off his arm.

 

“What, you mean that Latin crap? No, man, that's Walter.” We heard Marty, the script writer, say from behind the door. “Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?”

Dean opened the door with his jaw slightly open. “You mean Walter the P.A.?”

Marty looked a little surprised when he saw Dean, but then he spotted the rest of us. “What are all of you doing here?”

“Sorry, we were just looking for you. We, um,” I flipped through the script. “We just realised that we, uh–” Too many people. I was stammering at this point. “We liked the script too.” I pointed to John. “that man was impressed with the script and said he wanted to talk to the script writer, so we kind of tagged along, because the research is insanely detailed.”

Marty sank back in his chair, proud and smug. “Well, I must let you guys know that I had to rewrite the entire script! I mean Walter’s script was,” He laughed and shook his head. “It was horrible. He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There's no pace, there's no love interest, it's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, ninety percent of it to make it readable, the other ten percent to make it good.”

Welp. Guess we had a script to read.

 

“Should've kept Walter's original script. It's actually pretty good.” Dean said, munching on a hot dog he stole. Again. “And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want.” Dean shifted when I nestled in next to him. His arm wrapped lazily around my back on the couch, pulling me snug. John, Sam, and Jessica had left the two of us in the trailer to cover more ground trying to find Walter.

“Like killing people.” I said, once I was comfortable. “It’s almost like he learned black magic.”

“Yeah. And let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie.” He tossed the scripts aside. “It’s worth checking out.”

I hummed. “Yeah.”

“But that can wait, hm?”

He was so close. Dean nudged my nose with his. I tilted my head up and I was taken in a soft kiss. His lips were as soft as ever, and his hand was warm when it slid into my hair to tilt my head further back. He kept the other one supportively behind my back, and let me cling onto his shoulders.

When he did pull back, I was breathless. He grinned cheekily. “Did I steal your breath, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I fisted his shirt and pulled him back down. He was more than happy to reciprocate.

Someone knocked on the trailer door. But before Dean or I could actually react to it, that someone just pulled the door open. Ah hell. I turned around to fix my shirt.

“Dude. I didn't say you could come in.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“We’re in the middle of a case. Dad, Jess, and I are sweating our asses off looking for Walter, and you two were getting cozy?”

“Look, Sam–”

Ignoring my own red face, I grabbed Dean’s shirt and started tugging it over his head. Whatever he was going to say after that got muffled and drowned in the worn cotton. “Coming, Sammy.” I grabbed Dean’s abandoned flannel and jacket. “Where are we going?”

“The place with the forest scenery.” Sam shook his head one last time glancing at me and Dean. “At least you two finish fast.” He ducked out from the empty water bottle Dean and I chucked at his head.

 

Pieces of plastic crackled against each other, and the smell of centuries old sweat seeped in through the plywood. With the sweat I’d sweated on set I had no right to judge people for sweating on set.

“Smells like shit.” Dean waved a hand in front of his nose.

“Tell me about it.” I held my shotgun tighter. “Think we’re gonna see ghosts?” I stepped behind a piece of cardboard that had been painted to look like wood, and the air grew several degrees colder.

Dean pressed against my back, his muscles evidently tense through the several layers of clothing between us. “Speak of the devil.”

Something that sounded like a large machine turned on. “What the–”

Someone screamed.

“It’s the fan.” Dean muttered. He pushed past me. I followed after him, and I could hear footsteps from elsewhere thundering too. Sam’s and John’s, and someone else’s lighter ones– Jessica. I would know those anywhere any time on any terrain.

I held the gun loaded with rocksalt high. A pale figure ghosted through the leaves and I shot. The figure yelped. “It’s me!” Oh– I’d shot Jessica.

“Sorry!” I cringed. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She gasped for breath and walked out of the fake foliage. “I look that much like a ghost, huh?”

Something flew past my head. “It’s me and Jessica!” I yelled to the person on the other side. I shrugged. “I guess I look like one too.” I looked around. The men were gone. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“Oh my God, there’s more?!” Marty shrieked when Jessica and I appeared.

The two of us raised an eyebrow each. “We’re the actresses for the ghosts.”

Marty’s mouth formed an ‘o’ and he nodded proudly. “Pretty good work, right?” He held his hands up in a square as if taking a picture of us. “Perfect, right, boys?”

Dean grinned. “You can say that again.”

I nearly turned into a puddle.

Sam’s arm slipped around Jessica’s back. “Walter’s behind all of this.”

“Dad’s already gone after him.” Dean’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart.” He looked around. “Let’s go find Dad.” I ran after him.

I heard Sam speak as we left the trio behind. “Marty, you can come with us.”

 

“Shit!” John yelled, and a bang resounded through the set. He was shooting at something. Dean and I skidded to a stop, and John backed up, until he was standing between us. “There's three of them.” He muttered. But only one ghost was in his line of sight.

Dean and I raised our shotguns to cover John’s back. “Three?” I repeated.

John’s blue eyes flickered my way and rolled. Yeah, three.

Something moved in the corner of my eye. I shot. Dean shot at something else too. And then all three of them appeared right in front of me. Ah hell. But with two Winchesters flanking me, nothing could really get to me. The three of us fired at the same time and the disfigured ghosts vanished in a poof of smoke.

“Walter!” I heard Sam yell. “Walter. Pl– don’t–”

Walter began chanting in Latin. Latin that made sense unfortunately. And the three ghosts that had reappeared disappeared once again. This time, as though they had been forced from where they had been standing.

“Sam!” Jessica shrieked. Dean and John moved at once. Like father, like son, both suckers for the youngest of the family. And maybe like daughter-in-law too, because I moved automatically too.

“Sam!” Jessica slapped his cheek once and Sam woke up with a start.

“W-walter–”

“Run.” John grunted, and took the lead. “Dean, make sure he’s following.”

“Yes sir.” I pushed Marty behind John, and Jessica clung onto my red ghost costume. Dean brought the rear, his eyes never leaving his baby brother. I forced myself to unclench my teeth. John was treating him like a soldier again.

Behind us, objects rattled, leaves rustled, and the sound systems rumbled.

“Oh my God.” Jessica kept repeating, but the smile on her face said otherwise. Yeah, she was a whackjob. But then again, so were we.

“Dude, I’m fine.” Sam mumbled.

“Shut up, man. You’re hobbling like a grandpa on his deathbed.”

“Dean–”

“Shut up.”

We ran into a building on set, and John slammed the door shut.

Panting, I looked up and whined. “It’s not covered!”

“Fuck.” John grimaced.

“I can't believe this.” Marty gasped. “Ghosts are real!”

“Oh man, what makes you say that?” Dean said sarcastically.

“But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?”

“Probably that talisman.” Sam answered.

“What talisman?” Dean asked Jessica.

She gripped her own rocksalt loaded pistol tightly. “Walter has a talisman. He’s using it to summon and control the spirits.”

Yeah, I sort of remembered that. Walter had ended up stepping on it, breaking it, and then being shredded to death by the angry spirits. Well, for now, the ghosts were after us, and if we couldn’t see them, but the temperature was still low, then… I pulled out the 12 mini and flicked to the camera app. The pale lavender was the only splash of colour in this dilapidated shack with no roof.

“What’s that?” Marty questioned.

“Uhh, a camera.” I said.

“It doesn’t look like one.” He frowned.

“It’s like… a limited edition or something.”

“What’s that gonna do for us?”

Sam’s eyes lit up in realisation. He pulled out his own cell phone. “Well, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then… maybe…”

“Over here!” I pointed. John shot his shotgun, and the ghost on the screen disappeared.

“There’s one here.” Sam said. Dean’s gun fired. “Jess!” Sam suddenly cried when a female ghost got too close to her.

But the spirit didn’t even spare her a glance. Instead she aimed for Marty. The man jumped away and hid behind me. Jessica raised her gun and shot. She looked down at her weapon. “Why didn’t it attack me?” Her gaze traveled down her costume. “Oh.”

“Ain’t no way, the ghosts thinks you’re a ghost.” I nearly laughed at the idea. Salt flew past my head and I turned around to see John blinking in amusement. “What?”

“They think you’re a ghost too.” A teasing grin took over his grim face.

“Walter!” Marty suddenly cried. “Get your filthy ass down here!” He shook his fist at the stairs leading to the hanging lights.

“We’re gonna go up.” I finally surmised. “These things obviously think we’re like them, so we’ll be safe up there.” I pointed to the rest of the men. “Y’all take care of things down here.” I grabbed Jessica and made my way to the stairs. “We’ll take care of Walter.” I had to stop him from breaking that stupid amulet.

 

Walter ran down the other flight of stairs at the end of the hanging platform. Dammit! I should have stayed at the foot of the stairs.

Jessica and I barely managed to make our way down. But thankfully, he had backed himself up against a wall.

“It's over, Walter.” Jessica said.

“Give us that talisman, and everything will be okay.” I continued. I should start getting that talisman away from him. I focused on the small object, but it was hard to do so with Walter flailing around like a dying fish.

“I don’t think so.” He smirked and threw it to the ground. The fragile glass shattered, and Walter stood there with his chest puffed out.

“What have you done?!” Jessica shrieked.

The temperature dropped by several degrees yet again, and I felt cold fingers push past my shoulders. Jessica felt them too, and she shrank against my side. Her long fingers remained on her pistol, ready to pull the trigger.

“There, now no one can have it.” Walter proclaimed.

The other men came rushing to our side. Dean pulled me back, away from Walter. “Son of a bitch.” He cursed.

“I wouldn't have done that if I were you.” John said coolly. He let his shotgun fall back to his back.

“Oh yeah?” Walter scoffed. “And why not?”

“Because you just freed them. We can't stop them now.” Sam was pulling Jessica further back. “Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you.”

Walter opened his mouth to retort back, but only a scream came out. He was on the floor, writhing and screaming as chunks of his flesh got torn out and tossed aside. Ten years ago and I would have screamed from fright, or at least ducked away into someone’s arms like Jessica was right now. Hell, even a few months ago I would have sought comfort in Dean’s arms. But after everything, the sight didn’t truly bother me. I’d seen worse things, felt worse things. And the only thing I felt right now was pity for Walter. Because having spirits tear into your flesh was one of the worst feelings in the world.

“Holy shit.” Marty whispered, raising his phone to the scene. Everyone, except Jessica, watched through the screen as Walter took his last agonising breath, and the spirits smiled and vanished one last time. “We’re restarting filming right now.”

 

Jessica and I got to be ghosts after all. Walter’s corpse got shuttled out in less than an hour, and the entire cast and staff had been wrangled together with the promise of free pizza. Dean kept playing his P.A. role, watching me more than Tara every time she and I were on set. It took a lot of foundation for the costume department to keep my blush hidden at his attention from ruining the ghost vibes I was to give off.

She and I tiptoed around the broken shack, going in and out of the panels to make it look like we were walking through the walls.

And then finally, it was my solo turn.

“You!” I said dramatically. “You… you killed my baby!”

“Cut! More high pitched!” McG demanded. “Like you just lost your first kid!” He frowned. “And a little slower!”

“Scene ten, Take five!” the cardboard clicked.

“You…!” I raised my voice up an octave. Hopefully it didn’t break. “You killed… you killed my baby !”

“Over here!” ‘Mitch’ yelled. A phone camera was shoved in my face, but I didn’t flinch.

‘Wendy’ raised her gun in my direction and ‘shot’. I closed my eyes, reeled back and flopped onto the soft mattress that had been provided for me to fall into.

“Cut!” McG waved wildly. “Come on people, next scene!”

“An-tea-biotic.” Dean said with a smirk when I yawned my way over to him.

“Shut up.” I threw a makeup wipe in his direction.

“I’m married to a world famous actress.” He did not, in fact, shut up. But he did stand up and let me flop onto his chair.

I looked at him as nonchalantly as I could. “I’m an unnamed extra on some B rated movie. I don’t think I’m going anywhere.” Not with this job anyway.

Sam was staring slack jawed at Jessica as she got ready for her hanging scene. They’d strung her up to wires and a noose was tied around her neck. She tugged on it and gave a thumbs up, and she was jerked up violently. From this angle, I couldn’t see her face, but the crowd cheered when fake blood dripped down her bare dangling legs.

Marty came to stand by me and Dean, and looked on proudly. “What do you guys think?”

Dean didn’t even bother putting down the jerky he’d stolen from someone’s lunch box. “You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?”

Marty grinned. “I needed a little jazz on the page.”

I rolled my eyes. “Now I get to tell my kids I was on some random B list movie.” But I felt a little proud anyway. I was gonna be in the movies. How many people got to say that?

 

“That. Was. Awesome.” Sam gushed. “Dude, you got the fake blood and everything.” He had eyes only for Jessica at the moment, and failed to notice what was going on with the trailer.

It was rocking back and forth. Dean and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. John had said he was going back to the trailer first. So who was he screwing?

Without paying much attention to anything other than the happy blonde in front of him, Sam opened the door. “Oh!” He stumbled back from the trailer.

Jessica’s jaw dropped open and her hands flew to her eyes. “Oh my God.”

Sam slammed the trailer door shut. “I hate trailers!” He seethed.

A loud smooch echoed through the tin cabin, and the door finally opened a moment later. John sauntered out to the trailer steps, his jeans hanging low on his hips and his boots still off. “You kids need something?”

“A knife so I can gouge my eyes out.”

“Bleach for mine.” Jessica shuddered. I seconded that.

John shrugged. “You’re all adults.”

But Dean and I did share a brain cell. “So who was it?”

A woman staggered out, her hair all disheveled and clutching a shawl around her otherwise nude form.

“Mom!” Tara Benchley said, running up. “That’s where you were!”

Huh?

“Dad, you landed Tara Benchley’s mom ?” Dean whistled.

“I don’t wanna be a part of this conversation.” Sam raised his hands and walked away. “Jess is gonna miss her flight if we stay here longer.” Lies. Her flight wasn’t until six hours later at 3:00 in the morning. The blonde said nothing much, but she snuck a peek before turning heel and following her fiance. Me too girl, me too. John was handsome. There was no denying that.

“Hey, Dean?” John said, leaning against the trailer door.

“What?”

His Dad smirked. “We should do this more often.”

My husband’s eyes landed on me. He raised a makeup wipe– when had he bought that– and wiped it across my cheek. It came back dark brown. He grinned. “We should.”

Notes:

hi, I'm back. bye.

Chapter 45: Just a Dream

Summary:

"Dean couldn’t see the child from where he was sitting, what with the hood of the carrier pulled over and everything. He swallowed thickly. Maybe they were helping another couple bring their kid inside. Sharon was nice like that. James would be too. But then Sharon bent down to lift the baby up into her arms. The child wailed when it left the comfort of the carrier, but settled against its mother’s chest. Based on the colour of the baby’s swaddle, Dean decided it was a girl. Sharon’s girl."

Notes:

WARNINGS:
1. Suicide?
I'm so fricking proud of this one. Like srsly.
I converted my delusional patient into a SPN stan. Now he thinks the hospital actually has leviathans. Stay delulu.

“And Jane is doing fine?” I said into the phone.

“Yeah,” His voice was as soothing as my baby’s babbles. “She misses you.”

My throat felt dry. “I miss her too.”

“You know she won’t let go of that doll you bought.”

I laughed. “I bought it from a gas station five minutes away.”

“Well, it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.” As Jane’s babbles grew into whines, I heard him shush the little one. “I miss you too, you know.”

“Yeah.” I poured myself another glass. “I miss you too.” The alcohol settled deep in my stomach, but the coldness in my fingers remained.

My husband grew quieter. “Are you drinking?”

“First glass of the day.” I lied.

He sighed. “Sharon.”

“Hm?”

“You can’t breastfeed if you keep drinking like that.”

“That’s why I started her on formula.” She doesn’t need a mother like you . “Hey, this case won’t take more than two weeks. Alright? Hell, I’m thinking I can finish it in one. And then you and Jane can come up to Bobby’s.” Jane’s shriek had me sitting up right. My little girl. “Shh, baby,” I whispered. She probably couldn’t hear me through the phone. “Momma will be back soon. Okay? And then we can–” What did you even do with a baby? Shit mother . “We can– I dunno. Go to the park?”

The man on the other side chuckled. “She might be a bit too young to enjoy that. A walk in the park… she won’t know if she’s looking at Tom and Jerry or a rusty old swing.” I heard him kiss our daughter. “But she likes you. Been staring at your picture all day.” Because you’re never there .

“She’s been staring or you?”

“Both of us, right Jane?” Her soft coos were enough to make my heart melt. They turned into a yawn and her father started walking. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” Another kiss. “We’ll see you in Lawrence?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Bye. I love you sweetheart.”

How sweet. “Me too.” I tossed the phone onto the opposite sofa when the line went dead. I finished the rest of my glass and left it abandoned on the coffee table. Why I even bothered with it, I wasn’t sure.

The front door knob clicked. My hand retreated from the safety of my gun when I saw Bobby through the frosty window.

I looked up from where I was sprawled on the sofa. “Heya, Bobby.” I raised my beer as the older man staggered in with hands full of bags. “Need help?”

“Oh, I wonder.” He rolled his eyes. But he dropped half the grocery packets.

I got up from where I was and picked up the slack. “Did you get everything?”

“Ran out of those chocolates you like.”

“Ughh!” I dragged my feet across the kitchen floor.

“So, what’s the occasion?” The man looked from my face to the bottle in my hand.

I shrugged. “Case successfully solved. Thought I would celebrate.”

You’re always celebrating .

I ignored the voice. It wasn’t the Angel anymore. Djibril had left me a long time ago. ‘ Until you get yourself together, I’m not helping ’, they’d said two years ago, and then never come back. And the weight of the world fell on no one else, but me. The whole fucking world. I grabbed the neck and tilted my head back. The liquid burned down my throat, but it was just a momentary distraction from my fucked up life.

“I’m gonna leave again.” I told Bobby. “Caught wind of somethin’ a little further north.”

“Another demon?” He asked.

I grinned. “Not much of ‘em left to kill in this country.”

“Yeah, cause you’ve been driving around and killing them all.” He sat down heavily in his chair. “You should slow down.”

Slow down. If I did, I might just down a bottle of alcohol and then one of pills. The whole world was depending on me . I laughed dryly. “I will. Once all this shi-stuff is sorted out.” Bobby narrowed his eyes at the expletive.

“What happened to you two years ago?” He asked quietly.

I’d learned that the world wasn’t just a TV show, that’s what.

Dean and Sam weren’t here. John Winchester wasn’t here. I was cooked. Royally screwed and fucked sideways. All the people they’d saved had become my responsibility. And yeah, sure, no one had handed me a torch and said ‘we depend on you now’, but as someone who knew the happenings of the show, I wasn’t gonna kick back, sit, and relax.

“Nothing much.” I answered, instead. I couldn’t even talk about this to anyone. I loved Bobby. I loved the man like he was my own Dad. And I also knew how he died. All that meant was keeping the shitstorm from hitting him.

I raised the amber bottle to my eye level. Finished. Dammit. I dropped it on the table and grabbed my jacket. “Be like a week. Tops.”

“You sure you don’t want help?” His eyes scanned my form. “You haven’t slept decent.”

“Ran out of concealer.” I shrugged. “I’ll buy more when I have the time.”

I moved to fix my belt. I cinched it around my waist and frowned. Hell. I had to make a new hole again.

Bobby noticed. “At least eat something before you leave.”

“No thanks.” I glanced behind him. “I’ll take that scotch though. Got any whiskey? If not, a six pack’ll do.”

Instead, I got handed an apple. “You can’t survive on alcohol alone, kid.”

I frowned. “Fine.” I peeled off the sticker and bit into it. The tangy but sweet taste felt like heaven on my tongue. “Best food I’ve had in a while.”

“Microwaved burgers ain’t cutting it?”

“Nope.” I wiped the apple juice off on my flannel. “Got no time.” I grabbed my duffel and patted it. I felt a pair of clothes and my guns in the main compartment. I unzipped the side pockets and sniffed. The socks didn’t smell yet. I stood back up, and the foldable shovels clanked against each other. I shoved the bag into the attachable compartment of my bike and closed it.

I chucked the half eaten apple at the old man. “See ya, Bobby.”

I didn’t miss the concerned frown on his face as he yelled behind me. “Call me!”

 

‘Lawrence, Kansas.’

This is where Dean lives .

I slowed down in front of the two storeyed house.

He still has the Impala .

I stared at the lights shining through the windows.

He’s not who you think he is.

He wasn’t a hunter. I reminded myself. Right, Dean was married now. He’d been married for a while. He worked in a garage. His wife was a pediatrician. And insane. Every time I’d knocked on their door, she’d opened it and glared at me. Because apparently even female salesmen trying to sell water bottles were a temptation to her husband. I laughed at the notion. Sharon Maris. Ex pre med student. And what did I do now with a degree under my belt?

Stalking a character from a TV show.

Not stalking. I’d gone to his house twice. And that was it. I turned up the volume in my headphones and continued driving down the residential street.

 

A djinn. I concluded.

I reached for my drink. The words on the bright screen started to blur together. Dammit. I tipped it back anyway. My vision would return at some point.

But a djinn. I stared at the moldy motel ceiling. Sounded familiar. And I had a feeling I knew what was going on. Why John was on a baseball team. Why Dean wasn’t a hunter. Why Sam was out partying with an alive Jessica in fucking Stanford. They were all living the apple pie lives, while I picked up the slack in their wake. My head throbbed.

Goddammit.

The world came back into focus. I looked back down at my iPad screen. Alright. So I knew I was hunting a djinn. Based on the disappearances and the states of the dead bodies… this was definitely a djinn. If only I could remember how to kill those slimy bastards…

The screen glitched. Huh. That had been happening a lot recently. Maybe the device had seen one too many dropped bottles and kissed too many pavements.

The cracked screen flickered again. Before blacking out.

“Dammit.” I grumbled. I fished out the threadbare charger and shoved it into the scratched up port.

Nothing.

I switched the outlet the adapter was in.

Still nothing.

I plugged in my ancient cell phone instead. Well if the socket worked for that then– I tried the iPad again.

Not even a charging image showed up on the screen.

Ugh! “Fuck my life.”

 

My jaw dropped open when I spotted him standing in the professor’s office. Before I could stop myself, the word slipped out of my mouth. “Dean?”

“Sharon!” His eyes lit up as he turned around. How did he know me? Every time I’d gone to him, I’d given him a fake name, and a fake look. As suggested by Bobby. And thank God for that. Because his crazy wife had called the cops on me the second time.

“Are you in my class too?” The professor behind the desk asked, standing up.

“Oh, um. Yeah.” I gave him a smile. The man had said ‘too’. “We sit in the back. You probably wouldn’t have seen us. But we do love your lectures.”

Dean nodded along. “Yeah we do.”

“Well, then I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m done with this young man, yeah?” The professor smiled. “This young man was just asking me about Djinns.”

Djinns? This Dean was asking about djinns? Dean quickly butted in. “Oh, no. It's fine. If she stays.” He looked me up and down. He looked shocked. He tapped the only other chair in the room. “Why don’t you, uh, have a seat?”

“No thanks.” I tugged my jacket lower, making sure the guns were covered. “I’m good here.” Something akin to disappointment flooded Dean’s face.

“Well, okay then.” The professor cleared his throat. “So, um, A lot of Muslims believed the Djinn are very real. They're mentioned in the Quran.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Get to the wish part.”

“What about the wish part?” the professor raised an eyebrow.

Dean wished for a normal life. “Do you think they could really do it?”

Even your own life is fake .

“Um… Uh, no. No, I don't think they can really do it.” The professor laughed awkwardly. “You understand these are mythic creatures?”

You’re just a figment of your own imagination .

“Yes, but we were reading a book on them.” I cut in. “And we got curious. Because it was, like, a firsthand account of someone getting their wish granted.”

“Yeah. You know.” Dean gave me a look that said ‘thank you’. “Say you had a wish uh. But you never even said it out loud. You know, like that ah… that a loved one never died. Or that ah, something awful never happened.”

You’re not real .

Then how was this happening right now?

“Supposedly, yes. I mean they have Godlike power. They can alter reality however they want. Past. Present. Future.”

Dean’s questions got more frantic. “Why would the Djinn do it? It was self-defense? Or maybe it's not really evil.”

I grabbed his shoulder. “Sorry, sir. We have another appointment to get to.” I pushed him out of the office, and out into the open campus.

He looked down at me with those beautiful green eyes.

But those weren’t gonna work on me. “Dude!” I threw my hands with disbelief.

“What?” He frowned.

“You messed up my investigation!” I ran a hand through my hair. “Messed up everything! This guy was the only one in this entire shitty town that gave a fuck or two about Djinns! And you blew it up with your weird ass questions!”

Dean looked like the world had just swallowed him whole.

“And why are you suddenly interested in Djinns, huh? Your wife finally drive you crazy enough to the point where you think Djinns are real? You finally wanna get rid of her?” I laughed to no one. “That too after threatening to call the cops on me! I’ve been to your house twice– twice ! Pretending to be a saleswoman. And that crazy bitch acted like I was stalking you or some shit.”

It was true. I’d stopped digging up things about him and Sam the second I realised they weren’t hunters. They weren’t going to be. Not even when the events of the show started. Jessica hadn’t been killed by Azazel because in this world Mary never made the deal. She’d kept her hunting life in the past. And John never became a Hunter. That much I’d learned. This was what Dean had always dreamed of. So how the hell did I still end up in this world? In his dreams? In a dream that was made by the djinn holding Dean captive?

My head hurt.

Whatever. I still bore that weight alone. Hunting things, saving people. Because if they weren’t going to do it, then someone had to. And that someone might as well be me.

Because no one would miss you if you were dead .

Exactly.

“Okay, okay.” Dean ran a hand down his face, and started pacing. “So you’re a hunter.”

“Yeah.”

“And you and I are not married?”

Huh? “What?” Had he actually lost his mind. “Dude we haven’t even had a face to face conversation. You’ve been married to Carmen for nearly five years. And you’re asking if you’re married to me ?”

He looked as though I’d just shattered his reality. “I need a drink.”

“And I need an explanation.”

 

Okay. Okay. So it was what I’d thought, but also not what I’d thought. “So I figured that I was in some alternate reality.” I stared at the wooden counter. “But never in my life would I have figured that I would be married to Dean fucking Winchester.” I motioned for the man behind the bar to get me another glass. “I’m too sober for this.”

“You drink?” Dean stared at the empty glasses in front of me.

I shrugged. “It’s a hard job.” I nudged his boot with mine. “You of all people would know.”

“And your-your hair–” He reached out to brush a strand. “It’s so short .”

“Yeah, well. You know. Hair. Monsters. Doesn’t really go too well.” I picked at the end of a few strands. They’d tangled together even at their length. I picked it apart. “I need to cut it again.” I paused. “Wait, so I’m a hunter in your world too, right?” I asked. “You’re telling me. Even with all that’s happened, I still don’t drink? And my hair is long?”

“Yeah.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “And you– I mean Sharon– but that is you– so alternate, no wait original?”

I laughed. “Just call her Sharon.”

“Okay, but you’re Sharon.”

“Not the one you know.” I sighed. “Tell me about her.”

“Okay, um,” He poked at his glass. “She looks like you. Except she doesn’t. Her hair is long.” He reached out to touch my back. No. I didn't know this man. He and I may be married in some other world, but… He looked sad when I leaned away, but he touched his own lower back instead. Always a gentleman. I smiled. “About this long. And she’s not as…” He looked me up and down. “As muscular. Or thin.”

“You calling other me fat?” I teased.

“ What ? No. No, she’s not fat . She’s healthy. A little chubby, got a little extra fat down here, but she’s good. Amazing thighs. She’s healthy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And I’m not?”

“Oh come on! You’re not being fair to me.”

I grinned. “I know. Kidding. I know my own worth.” It’s zero . “It’ll take a lot more than that to get to me.” I finished my glass. “Do I have hobbies?”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean scoffed. “You could put her on a bench with unlimited yarn and a hook and she’ll be busier than a bee for unlimited hours.”

“What kinda music do I listen to?”

“Uhh,” He scratched his chin. “That Asian stuff. The stuff that she has memorised. Transferred it all from that fancy device of hers to an mp3. Plays them on repeat.”

She has a better life than you . “Like you and your cassette tapes.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, like me and my cassette tapes.” He looked at my hands resting on the counter. “So why’d you start drinking?”

I scoffed. “You’re asking me why I started drinking?”

He looked guilty.

I sighed. “It’s a fair question. 21st birthday.” I remembered it like it was yesterday. “It was just me and Bobby.”

“No friends?”

I shrugged. “Not close ones. I was depressed. Still am, probably. Docs tried to drug me up to make me happy, but nothing worked. So we got Rumsfeld.” I swallowed. “He died when a demon got into the house. Died protecting me. So.” I sat up straighter. “I lost one man’s best friend. And found another best friend.” I raised my whiskey in a cheers motion. “A little more expensive, but a lot less maintenance. And.” I nudged the full glass off the counter and let it shatter into a million pieces. “I don’t feel guilty if it dies.”

 

“I could have walked.” I told Dean from the passenger’s seat.

“Not letting a young drunk lady walk back to her shady motel alone.” He looked at the dingy place. “You sure you’re gonna be fine?”

I lifted my jacket to reveal the butt of my gun. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, proudly. “That’s my sweetheart.”

I paused. “Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m flattered. I truly am. But–”

“You and I are married .”

“Yeah. But not to each other.” I pulled out the wedding ring. “Not in this world.”

He finally looked down to my chest. A silver band with tiny diamonds surrounding a small amethyst now took residence outside the safety of my shirt. 

 

Third Person P.O.V.

She was married. Not to him. Dean’s fingers grew cold on Baby’s wheel. “You’re married?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Going strong for three years.” She opened up the door before he could ask her anything further. “Well, I’m gonna go.”

She shut the door behind her, and all he could do was stare after her pretty little ass.

 

“Dean.” Carmen, his not-wife wife sang when he walked through the front door.

“Carmen.” He put on a stiff smile as she wrapped around him. “What’s up?” The brunette in his arms was all dressed up. “You going somewhere?”

“Oh Dean.” she cooed. Her cold fingers brushed over his cheek as she pulled him down for a kiss. It felt wrong. “It’s your mom’s birthday, remember?”

Mom. Yeah, Mom. He’d mowed her lawn yesterday. And she’d made him a quick sandwich when he’d said he was hungry. It was everything he’d ever wanted. And Dad . His Dad had been on the softball team. He’d looked happy in all the framed pictures. His family was together. And he had a beautiful wife. What more did he need?

So he put on a smile. “Oh yeah.” He kissed her back on the cheek. “Be right down, honey.”

His Mom’s birthday. He felt so damn happy.

 

The restaurant was fancy. He was dressed in a suit. ‘My dashing husband.’ Carmen had whispered before kissing him like there was no tomorrow. And damn if she wasn’t a good kisser. What more did a man need?

He had a beautiful wife hanging off his arm. He had a nine to five at the garage. He had a house with a white picket fence and he mowed the lawn on Sundays. His Dad had been on the softball team, looking all happy. His Mom was alive, living off her retirement fund and making homemade sandwiches for him whenever he went over. His brother was alive and doing great at Stanford’s law school based on the framed diploma at his parents’ house. ‘His parents’ house’. They had a house. His childhood home. In one piece. Not burnt to the ground. Yeah, he was happy.

“Dean?” Carmen said from next to him.

“Yeah, baby?”

She smiled, fussing and fixing the collar of his shirt. “You coming?”

Hell yeah he was. His Mom was already sitting at a table. Four more chairs arranged neatly at the table. “Table for five?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Jessica and Sam are coming too!” Carmen laughed. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”

Oh . His brother. Finally. Sam. He could bring him on the hunt together with Sharon. “I didn’t.” He recovered. “I just– didn’t think he would actually come.”

Carmen looked confused.

“You know. Because he’s so busy with law school and whatever.” Shit. This was just digging a bigger hole for him. “Let’s go sit down.”

His mother was beautiful. She looked glowing even after five decades of walking on this Earth. “Mom.” He grinned.

Her eyes lit up and she wrapped him in a hug. “Dean!” She laughed. “You made it.”

She pulled back and Dean was reminded of the many years he’d missed her. He stood taller than her now, nothing like the four year old who used to climb onto her leg until his Dad pulled him up into his arms. Her face had more wrinkles than he remembered, and what he wouldn’t give to see every one of them form over the years. But he was here now, and he could watch her grow old. Maybe even give her a grandkid or two. Maybe three. He could watch her happy for the rest of her life. That was all he ever wanted, and more.

He stepped aside and let her pull Carmen into her arms. The two women squeezed each other for a moment before sitting back down.

“How’ve you been?” Carmen started the conversation. His Mom jumped in two. He just leaned back, his arm over Carmen’s shoulder, watching his wife and his mother talk about regular stuff. Normal stuff. Nothing about ghosts. Nothing about vampires or werewolves. Just normal people talk. Like work, like the latest movie, and whether Sammy proposed to Jessica yet.

His Mom suddenly looked past his shoulder. “Sam!” She looked even happier than before, if that was even possible.

“Hey, Mom.” Sam’s tall figure loomed over Dean’s shoulder. He turned around to see his baby brother in a tailored suit. And next to him was Jessica, standing shyly with her arm on Sam’s. She herself was in a cocktail dress that dragged across the floor. But what stole his attention wasn’t her dress, it was Sharon’s.

The much smaller woman floated in, dressed in a jumpsuit. Her feet were in well worn dress shoes and she was devoid of any makeup or jewellery. And yet, she was smiling. Her black eyes looking honey brown under the light of the restaurant and her short hair pulled back with a simple white clip. She turned around and laughed at something someone said. And that’s when he showed up. James Roberts, lawyer and now husband. To his wife. That in itself wouldn’t have shocked him that much. James was a good man. And he’d been interested in Sharon. And Sharon did tell him that he was technically her type. So no, that didn’t shock him. What did was the baby carrier in his hands.

Dean couldn’t see the child from where he was sitting, what with the hood of the carrier pulled over and everything. He swallowed thickly. Maybe they were helping another couple bring their kid inside. Sharon was nice like that. James would be too. But then Sharon bent down to lift the baby up into her arms. The child wailed when it left the comfort of the carrier, but settled against its mother’s chest. Based on the colour of the baby’s swaddle, Dean decided it was a girl. Sharon’s girl.

He watched as James finished checking in, and guided his wife and his daughter through the restaurant and into a small booth tucked in a corner.

Dean was jealous.

Carmen’s hand brushed his arm. “Something wrong?”

He snapped his gaze back to the beauty next to him. “No, why?”

“You don’t want a drink?”

He looked down at the cocktail menu in Carmen’s hands. “Uhh, the red wine, I guess.”

Carmen hummed and nodded. She went back to talking with Mom and Jessica. Dean turned his attention to Sam who seemed content just watching the three women. “So Sammy.”

Sam turned his gaze to Dean. He was a little stunned at the coldness in his eyes. “Law school, huh?”

“Yeah.” He replied curtly.

“So, uh, you settling in California?”

“Yeah.” Sam fiddled with the wine glass.

“So… you made it to the interview that day, huh?”

“The law school interview?” Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean couldn’t see the usual playfulness and teasing that hid behind them. “Of course, Dean. I'm not like you.” He scoffed and looked away, refusing to even look at him.

Dean looked down at the small empty plate in front of him. What the hell was going on?

The food came in a few minutes. Carmen’s foot was sliding up his calf, but it took all of Dean’s focus to stare at her instead of the back of Sharon’s neck in the booth.

Sam cleared his throat. “To Mom.” He smiled and raised his glass. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday.” Jessica and Carmen followed suit.

And Dean did the same. “Happy birthday Mom.” He said, but something across the room caught his eye. James was gone from his seat, and Sharon was staring back at them, baby still cradled in her arms. She gave a polite but awkward clap, and focused back on her daughter.

His chest felt empty. His wife was married to someone else, holding someone else’s baby, smiling up at and kissing someone else. But she hadn’t looked too happy when they’d been at that bar. It looked like she was living the illusion of a happy life. And honestly? Dean felt the same way.

“We should get you a cheeseburger later.” Carmen whispered in his ear.

Cheeseburger? Sharon would never. She would point to the salad and tell him to order another one of that instead. He grinned. “How did I end up with such a cool chick?” He moved to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head and he kissed her lips instead. Sharon would never. Not in public.

Carmen giggled. “I just have low standards.” He didn’t miss the little insult at him. Sharon would never. If anything she would blush and tell him to shut up.

Sam clapped his hands. “Alright. Jess and I actually have another surprise for mom's birthday. Ah…” He turned sheepishly to Jessica. “You wanna tell 'em?”

She smiled. “They’re your family.”

Sam grinned that silly grin and lifted her left hand. An engagement ring sat perfectly on her long fingers, and the wideness of Jessica’s smile matched Sam’s.

“Oh my God!” Mom gasped happily and stood up. “That’s wonderful!”

Carmen, perfectly sociable, stood up and smiled. “Congratulations.” She said to Jessica. And then to Sam. She had the perfect smile on her face, steering the conversation with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly didn’t struggle in social situations. Sharon could never. Dean remembered when Sharon had congratulated them. She’d fumbled for a while and even after that, she had fumbled some more.

“I just wish your dad was here.” Dean heard his Mom whisper.

Sam squeezed her shoulder. “Yeah, me too.”

He supposed it was his turn to congratulate his little brother. “Congratulations, Sammy.”

Sam nodded once. “Thanks.”

“I’m really glad you’re happy.” And it was the honest to God truth.

Past Sam’s shoulder, he hoped to catch another glimpse of Sharon, but he saw another girl instead. Just a few feet away from the woman in the jumpsuit, standing barefoot with her dirty tattered clothes. Her body nothing but skin and bones.

He pushed past Sam who stumbled to the side. He had to get to that girl. Something in him told him that she was the answer to everything that was going on. He’d caught a glimpse of her when he’d been driving Sharon to her motel last night, but he’d assumed it was a beggar of some sorts. But fancy establishments like this didn’t allow beggars inside.

She vanished. She vanished into thin air. What the fuck?

When the wails of a baby girl filled his ears, he realised everyone was staring at him in shock, including his own family. The only person who looked like she knew what was going on was the mother of the baby girl. His Sharon that was no longer his.

 

First Person P.O.V.

Back at the motel, James was running his hands up and down my sides, his mouth hot on mine.

“Giving up on this case?” He muttered.

“Just don’t think there is one.” I mumbled back.

His fingers dug into my back. “You gonna come home?”

“Yeah.” I tilted my head back to give him better access. “Now shut up. And let me touch you.”

His chest shook with a soft chuckle, and he fell silent.

His body was smooth under my fingers. Muscles strategically defined for the optimum Adonis look by years of practical and targeted gym training. And they’d served him beautifully. He was handsome. His hair as dark as mine, but his eyes so many shades lighter in the prettiest shade of blue.

‘Ocean blue eyes’, as Taylor Swift said in nearly all her songs. And he was all mine. I moaned into his mouth, and he pulled apart for one quick breath. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered.

“Thanks.” I tugged on his tie to pull him back to my mouth. “You’re hella handsome too.”

He walked me backwards to the bed, letting me fall on my back once the back of my knees hit the mattress. He was on me in a split second. His hands fumbling with the zipper, and his knee rubbing the jumpsuit’s seam up into me. I’d wanted to wear a dress, but I’d abandoned the skirt for the practicality of pants instead. Easier to run from monsters. Easier to kick someone without flashing them. It didn’t matter anyway. James had told me time and again, plain old me could wear a potato sack and still look like Marilyn Monroe in a potato sack. And he wasn’t going back on his word, especially with how he’d started sucking at the hollow of my collar bone. He came back up when I tugged on his collar, and locked me in another kiss.

A baby’s sleepy coo broke us out of our dizzying act. The two of us glanced behind us at the crib where Jane still slept.

“Cockblock.” I huffed.

James snickered. “Only one I’ll ever forgive.” He grinned cheekily. “For now. Maybe her siblings in the future.” He splayed a hand over my belly, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Go take a shower.”

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. As I stumbled into the bathroom, I felt my cheeks heating up with what he’d just hinted at. He wanted another kid. Jane was only three months old. And I’d just managed to recover completely from the hell that had been pregnancy. But still. Another baby? Just the thought of it made my heart flutter.

Not with the way you drink.

Reality came crashing down. This whole life was a dream. Jane, my little girl, was just a dream. This was Dean’s dream. Nothing more. But what I wouldn’t give to make it a reality.

 

I’d thought Dean would be here. At his Dad’s grave. I watched from the tree, camouflage clothes and legs tucked up. Unless you were watching close enough to hunt for game you wouldn’t find me up here.

Probably .

Dean stared at the man’s grave for a solid few minutes. And then he started speaking. “All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy, Sharon, and I saved. They're all dead.” That confirmed my confirmation of my previous suspicions of this being the Djinn episode. “And there's this woman that's haunting me. I don't know why. I don't know what the connection is, not yet anyway. It's like my old life is coming after me or something.” He took in a shaky breath. “Like it, like it doesn't want me to be happy. Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but…” Softball? I thought John played baseball? I groaned internally. Give it up to me to get my sports mixed up. Dumb little bitch. “‘So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest.’” Dean had brought his voice lower for this part, as if he was imitating his Dad. “Right? But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero?”

I closed my eyes. That silly teenage crush on the fictional character of Dean Winchester hadn’t faded. At least not completely. Looking at him from up here, crying silently at his Dad’s grave, all alone, reminded me of all the horrors he’d lived. He was happy here though. Why couldn’t he just let everything be, and be happy up here? Yeah sure his body was dying, but he was happy . I was happy. Yeah, I lived a miserable life. I’d turned into an alcoholic. I wasn’t home for more than a few weeks at a time. And I sported more scars than ever, but I had Jane. Sweet little Jane who looked at me with her bright blue eyes and held onto my fingers. She might just be an illusion. I might have ended up in an illusion. But it was a happy illusion. Couldn’t Dean see that?

Happy? You’re miserable .

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

The voice for once was sounding right.

You don’t have friends. Your husband loves you, but do you love him? You’re pining over another man. You say you love Jane, but you leave her alone for weeks. Is that what makes you happy? This is all an illusion anyway. And you know it. You could have found out how to kill the Djinn, easily. But you didn’t. You know this is an illusion. It’s a dream, Sharon. Wake the fuck up .

Wake the fuck up.

As Dean turned around, I called out to him. “Wait!”

The man paused, looking around, until he finally lifted his gaze upwards. His lips parted in surprise when he spotted me. “Sharon?”

I made my way down, free falling the last few feet. I ignored the hammering my knees took and straightened up. “That Djinn.” I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. “I’ll help you hunt it.”

 

“Stay here.” Dean said as he rounded the car. “I’ll get the silver.”

“From your Mom’s house?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Why, you carry silver with–” He groaned.

I pointed to my duffle in the backseat. “Duh. just because you don’t have it in your trunk, doesn’t mean I don’t got it in my bike.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. “Bike? A Kawasaki?”

“Yeah.” I grinned. “I got it over there too?”

“Damn right you do.” A sharp knock on the window caught our attention. A disgusted Sam was staring in. Dean gave me a ‘check out this mook’ look and rolled down his side of the window. “Hey Sam, what’s up.”

“I don’t believe you.” Sam hissed. “I knew you were- that you weren’t perfect . But you’re cheating on Carmen?”

Dean sighed. “Sam, I can explain.”

“I can’t believe we’re even related.”

I decided to butt in. “Sam, nothing’s going on.” The younger man looked at me like I’d sprouted two heads. “I’m here to help Dean out on something.”

Sam’s face dropped. “Dean.” He started jiggling the car door. “Dean, she has a knife.”

“I know.”

“It’s a silver knife.” I waved the blade. “Not here to kill him. I’m here to kill something else.”

“Kill–” Sam was now breathing fast as though he might pass out. “Oh my God. Dean, this woman is crazy. What have you gotten yourself into.”

Dean and I rolled our eyes. “Sam, we’re fine.”

“But-but–”

“Come inside, and sit down, before your nerdy ass brain passes out.” Dean reached behind him to unlock the rear door.

Sam hesitantly sat down and rested his head between his knees.

“So the two of us owe some money.” Dean started lying. “Big sharks, you know. Neither of us wanted to go along, so we’re going together. And the knife is for protection.”

Kinda true. Not really. “So yeah. Don’t worry about anything Sam. Just go back inside and we’ll all be fine.”

“No.” Sam swallowed. He poked his head over the back of the front bench. “I’m coming with you guys.” He glanced at the two of us, and then the knife in my hands. “Precisely because this could get dangerous.”

Sammy, always the concerned baby brother. I couldn’t help but smile. Mine would have done the same. “As long as you stay safe.”

The car rumbled to a start. Dean swerved onto the highway, and rock music blasted through the radio. I couldn’t believe it. I was in the Impala with Dean and Sam Winchesters. The Winchesters. From the world of a TV show I’d just been tossed in a little over a decade ago.

Even with Sam’s nervous tapping of his knee, I could notice Dean stealing glances in my direction. He was handsome. So damn handsome. High cheekbones, bright green eyes, strong calloused hands, muscular profile. The freckles were adorable, and his lips were as plump as the day I’d hit play on my tiny laptop screen. And now he was in front of me, driving the Impala, and I was sitting in it. I felt ashamed. It was one thing to look at an attractive man and say ‘huh, he’s handsome’ and walk away, but it was another to continue staring and wishing his hands were on me.

And yet… the wind blew through my hair and I suddenly wished it were longer. I looked down at my jeans and wished they were a skirt instead. Something to remind me I was a woman, something I wanted Dean to see me as. My boobs weren't as big as they used to be. Years of fighting and hunting monsters had tightened my pectorals and now I knew why women who exercised and danced regularly had smaller chests. I’d felt graceful back in the day, when I’d realised I weighed more muscle not fat. But now I wished I’d still had the fat– plus the muscles, I liked the abs. My silly little teenage crush was coming back and my heart sank.

I was married for God’s sake. A married woman with a baby. I couldn’t be staring at and wanting another man. Not like this. I ran my hands down my face. I wasn’t a prude. Just a woman with morals. I wasn’t a whore.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Oh that nickname. I fought the blush crawling up my neck.

I sat up straighter. “What? Oh yeah.” I was more than okay.

 

Ten minutes into the drive, Sam’s curiosity won over. “What’s in the bag?”

“Private stuff.” I quipped. “Lady stuff.”

When I glanced back, Sam had the most untrusting look in his eyes. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” He quipped back and unzipped the bag. He damn near dropped the bottle of blood. “What’s this?”

“Blood.” Dean answered.

“I can see that. But why does she have this–”

“It’s lamb’s blood. We need a silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood.” I explained.

“You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?” He asked incredulously.

“Because there's this creature. A Djinn. And we,” Dean gestured between me and him. “have to hunt it.”

“Okay, um…” I could see the gears turning in Sam’s head. “Stop the car.”

“I know how this sounds.”

“Great. Just… stop the car.”

“It's the truth, Sam. Alright, there are things out there in the dark. There-there-there are bad things. There are nightmare things. And people have to be saved and if we don't save them, then nobody will.”

Yeah, Dean wasn’t helping. “You sound like an alcoholic.”

Dean muttered under his breath. “From one alcoholic to another.”

“Look, I wanna help you, alright. I-I really really do, but you're having some kind of psychotic breakdown, and this woman isn’t helping– so… just–”

“I wish.”

Sam pulled out his phone.

I leaned over the back of the bench and smacked it out of his hands. Sam stared at me with shock when I squeezed between the seat and the roof of the car and got to his phone before he did. Dean whistled. I grabbed the phone and chucked it out the open window.

Sam gaped at the lost device. “What the fuck? That was my phone!”

“Well, I’m not going to a hospital or a mental facility or a jail.” I managed to untwist my way back. My little contortionist act was pretty impressive if you asked me.

“What?”

“Well, Sam. Listen to her, alright? She knows what she’s doing.”

“Who even is she?”

“Name’s Sharon Roberts.” I stuck out my hand. “Little late for introductions. But nice to meet you.”

“Um- Sam– I guess. How do you two know each other?”

“Since forever.” I responded. I glanced at Dean’s handsome profile and then Sam’s knees crammed in the backseat. I grinned. “Since literally forever.”

Sam stared for a solid minute and shook his head. “Okay, you’re nuts.” He turned to Dean. “I’m just trying to help you out, Dean. I don't-I don't want you to get yourself hurt.”

“Hah! You protect me?” Dean barked a laugh.

“Yeah!”

“That's hilarious. Why don't you just sit tight and try not to get us both killed.” He glanced over his shoulder with a small smirk. “Bitch.”

Sam’s face twisted with confusion. The second he opened his mouth, I copied his motion. “What’re you calling me a bitch for?” With the same intonations, the same pitch, I copied him exactly.

Sam stared at me with wide eyes, and I laughed. This was probably the most fun I’d ever had on my way to a hunt.

 

“This the place, s–?” I could see Dean biting off the pet name that nearly escaped him. Sam didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at the empty warehouse.

Empty warehouse. How fitting. “Yeah.” I checked my notes. “This is where I’d tracked him to.”

“Tracked.” Sam stared at me. “You sound like a professional.”

“That’s cause she is.” Dean grinned. “One of the best Hunters you’ll ever see.”

Sam’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re that woman from the restaurant.”

I tilted my head. “Yeah?”

“You-you have a kid–” He looked at the warehouse and then back at me. “And this is what you do? Does your husband know?”

I frowned. “Of course he does. I saved him from a ghost in a painting.”

“Holy shit.” Sam rubbed his neck. “This is insane.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean held out his hand for a gun. I pressed the cold metal into his palms and he raised an eyebrow at the pull weight. “You handle these calibers?”

I shrugged. “Unlike your Sharon, I don’t have a big strong man to shoot for me.”

Dean paused. “Sharon’s a great shot.” He pocketed the gun. “Best damn sniper we got.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Sam asked. “And why are you bringing a gun?”

“To hunt.” I passed him a different gun. Same weight as Dean’s. Sam paled at the sight, but without further resistance he tucked it into his back pocket. I lifted the silver knife up to my palm and tested the edge. Yeahhh. It was sharper than Sam’s narrow glare. “Let’s go in.”

 

The flashlights cut through the dark. Sam stayed behind me and Dean, glancing up at his brother every time something in the dark shifted. Wimp.

And then he started his whining again. “Look, Carmen's gotta be worried sick about you, Dean. Come on, let-let's just go.”

“Shoulda locked him in the car.” I rolled my eyes.

“Shh!” Dean grabbed my arm.

I lowered my voice further. “What?”

He jerked his head towards a figure moving through the darkness. I crouched lower when its footsteps grew louder.

“What the hell is that?” Sam suddenly whispered.

Dean and I looked up at a couple of corpses suspended from the ceiling. Dean paled. “Dean.” I nudged him with my elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“Saw them in my closet.” He said dryly.

The creature moved away, and the three of us stepped out from behind the tall stack of boxes. “What the hell.” Sam muttered.

Dean drifted to one specific girl dangling from ropes. They dug into her rawed wrists and she moaned in pain. A blood bag was next to her, filled with blood.

“It’s her.” Dean whispered. The girl was tied up with Dean in the real world.

Sam’s shaky voice started to climb in volume. “Dean, what’s going on?”

Footsteps.

I rose to my toes and clamped my hand over his mouth. “Shh!” I mouthed. Dean grabbed him and started dragging him away to where we were previously hiding.

The creature had come out again, and was running his giant hands over the poor girl’s sunken face.

“Where's my dad? I wonder how…” The girl breathed. The Djinn got closer. “Don’t…!” Her bony feet kicked at nothing as they didn’t even touch the floor. She started crying. “Where's my dad?” She demanded through sobs.

“Sleep.” The Djinn smiled coldly. His fingers glowed blue, as did his eyes. The blue color traveled from his fingertips to the girl’s cheeks and her eyes started drifting close. “Sleep…” he whispered once more, and the girl’s eyes fluttered shut. After making sure his victim was sleeping soundly, the creature reached for the blood bag. He grabbed one of the attached straws and started drinking. “Ahh…” he moaned, not in pain, but in pleasure.

Sam gagged.

Loudly.

I hustled for a different hiding spot, this time under the stairs. Dean followed close behind, his hand clenching Sam’s arm tightly. The three of us huddled together in the small space. Shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, hip to hip, leg to leg. Dean was rubbing Sam’s arm in soothing motions. His eyes never left him. Oh to have a brother.

I wondered if Jane would want one.

The Djinn traipsed around the stack of boxes for a few more seconds before deciding his search was sufficient. And then he trudged up the stairs. Sam shook even more violently from fear, a far cry from the nearly fearless man he had been on the show. I placed a hand on his knee and Dean kept his hold on his arm. Slowly, but surely, Sam got his breathing under control, and the Djinn climbed up the stairs without further incident.

“This is real? You're not crazy?” He gasped.

“No.” I replied.

Dean was mumbling to himself. “She didn't know where she was. She thought she was with her father.” His feet brought him back up to the dangling girl. “What if that's what the Djinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.” Dean’s eyes flitted to mine. It was true. I smiled wryly.

Sam shook free of my hold. “Look man. That thing could come back, alright?”

Dean himself was now breathing harder. He walked up to me and grabbed my shoulders. “Am I like her? Am I tied up here someplace? Is all this in my head?”

Even though he asked me, I couldn’t answer nor shake my head. But I could cry. I was an illusion. This was what Dean dreamed of. A perfect life. And I was just an extra.

He kept rambling. “I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Dean, that doesn't make sense. Okay?”

“What if that's why she keeps appearing to me? She's not a spirit.” At this point, he was more talking at me rather than to me. “It's-it's like more and more like I'm catching flashes of reality. You know, like I'm in here somewhere. I'm-I'm catatonic, and I'm taking all this stuff in but I-but I can't snap out of it.”

Completely wrong time for this, but Dean knew the word ‘catatonic’?

“Yeah, okay, look.” Sam tried to get between me and Dean. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right. I was wrong. You're not crazy but we-we-we need to get out of here. Fast.”

Dean turned heartbroken eyes to Sam. “I don't think you're real.” Those same eyes turned down to me. “You are. But you’re not.”

Yeah. I didn’t know either. I had a consciousness. I could think for myself. But was that because I wasn’t of this world in the first place?

“Forget about her!”

I stumbled to the side when Sam shoved me aside. “Dude, you feel that?” He held Dean tight. “You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real.” He turned on his puppy dog eyes. “No please.”

“There's one way to be sure.” Dean shrugged off Sam. He stalked towards me. “It's an old wives' tale. If you're about to die in a dream, you wake up.” He held his hand out.

The blade. I pulled it out of my jacket and passed it to him. He needed to kill himself to wake up.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Sam repeated. “That's crazy. Alright?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re gonna kill yourself.” Sam started stepping closer.

I stepped back and tugged on Dean’s jacket. He stood with his shoulders squared. “Or I'm gonna wake up. One or the other.”

“This isn't a dream, alright? I'm here, with you, now. And you're about to kill yourself, Dean.”

I tugged on Dean’s jacket again. “Dean.”

“Sam, I'm pretty sure.” He frowned. “Like, 90% sure. But I'm sure enough.”

That was the Dean I knew. He grabbed the knife, ready to drive it into himself.

“WAIT!” Sam suddenly cried.

“No! Do it!” I yelled.

Dean, unable to ignore his brother’s cry, managed to ignore mine.

Mary in the nightgown she died in and nearly three decades younger appeared out of nowhere. Next to her stood Carmen. And next to her, stood Jessica. But those three I expected along with Sam.

What I hadn’t expected was James. And Jane. My baby Jane looked at me with those wide blue eyes and downy black hair.

“Jane.” I whispered.

“Why'd you have to keep digging?” Sam said, his voice monotone, nearly robotic. “Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?”

Dean and I looked around. The six people surrounded us, closing in with every word.

“You were happy.”

Mary was suddenly in front of Dean. Her pale fingers reached up to her son’s cheek. “Put the knife down, honey.”

Dean’s eyes brimmed with tears. I slipped my hand into his, and squeezed. He squeezed back. “You’re not real.” His voice shook. “None of it is.”

“It doesn't matter.” Mary whispered. “It's still better than anything you had.”

“What?” Dean whispered.

“It's everything you want. We're a family again.” Mary slid her hand down to his other hand. “Let's go home.” She tugged.

I tightened my hold on Dean. “Dean.”

It was like he couldn’t hear me. “I'll die.” He swallowed. “The Djinn'll... drain the life out of me in a couple of days.” His voice broke at the end. Dean.

“But in here, with us. It'll feel like years. Like a lifetime.”

Dean’s eyes scanned the room again. His fingers around mine loosened. James smiled at me, stepping closer with Jane, and I nearly gave in myself. “Dean.” I whispered his name. “Dean.” I clenched his palm tighter. “This isn’t real.”

“Dean.” His head swiveled to Sam’s voice. “No more pain.”

Mary came back to stroke Dean’s cheek. “Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. Dean, stay with us.” To my horror, Dean’s hand slipped out of mine and he covered his Mom’s hand. He leaned into her touch and his pretty green eyes fluttered close.

“Dea–”

“Sharon.” A baby was thrust into my arms. Jane, sweet little Jane, was just an illusion…? Even if this was a dream, I didn’t want it to fade. I could watch her grow up, live a normal life, the life I had taken away. I didn’t even need to save the world did I? This was Dean’s dream. Surely in his dreams the world didn’t end. And if the Djinn wanted to keep Dean alive and trapped for as long as possible, then this dream was likely to not end soon.

But that’s all this was. A dream. A wish.

I looked down at Jane’s blue eyes and her sleepy pout. I kissed her forehead, feeling the weight of her in my arms. She had been the best thing to happen to me next to James. And while I would let the world burn for her, I also couldn’t let a billion innocent people die. That had been my cross to bear when I’d decided to go hunting.

“Momma loves you baby.” I whispered to her, and rocked her one last time. Rockabye baby, don’t you cry. “Goodbye.” I shoved her into an astonished James’ chest and grabbed Dean’s shoulder.

The man was locking lips with Carmen, his eyes closed and his body frighteningly pliant. It was like he was under a spell. And he probably was. “Dean!” I yelled.

Jessica and Mary grabbed me while Sam smiled without his eyes. I shook them both off and pushed at Carmen. The taller brunette went stumbling back. Great.

I turned around and grabbed Dean’s face with my own hands. “Dean!” I yelled and shook him. “Dean! Wake up!” His glossed over eyes slowly slid back to life. “Dean!” I said one more time.

“Sharon…?” Like he was coming back from a drunken haze, he blinked himself sober. “What the–” He stared at the knife at my feet. Then back at me. I smiled at him. He was back. “You gotta go back, Dean.”

“What?” He staggered.

The only thing keeping him upright at this point was me. “You gotta get back. Wake up. Sam needs you.” He looked at Sam who still stood innocently. His lips parted but no words came out. “Dean!” I demanded again, and his gaze snapped back down. Good. “Sharon needs you.” That seemed to do something.

“But-but you’re–”

“Not your Sharon.” I dragged his hands to my hair. “See?” He looked genuinely surprised. “Dean, you gotta get back.” Jane shrieked and cried. I could hear James singing her a lullaby. Were they meant to convince me to stay? It was working. It took every ounce of my strength to not walk over and just pretend like the past few days never happened. “Dean.” The world blurred. “Please.”

He finally snapped out of it and picked up the knife. “Thanks.” He said softly. And then plunged the knife deep into his chest, right where his heart was.

The world exploded. Or it started to. My vision went dark, but I could still feel and hear. It made sense? Light was the fastest thing man knew. Maybe that’s why it was gone, but nothing else. At least yet. And I didn’t intend on sticking around and finding out. I felt for the knife Dean had dropped and found it somewhere on the grimy floor.

I picked it up and pointed it to my left breast. With one deep breath, I managed to push it past the layers of flesh and ribs and straight into my heart. The pain was endless, and that alone felt like a lifetime.

Jane continued crying, James continued singing.

Life as I knew it, came to an end.

 

I blinked.

White.

Not black.

I breathed.

Numbness.

Not pain.

I tried to clench my hand.

Someone screamed.

“She’s awake!”

What?

“Mom! She’s awake! Dad!”

Mom?

“Sharon?” two panicked voices gasped. “Nurse!” They cried next. “Doctor!”

Could people just shut up?

I tried to take another breath, but something blocked my airway. I gasped and clawed at my throat.

“Hold her down.” “Hey, sweetie, we need you to calm down, okay?” “You’re safe, you’re in the hospital.” “Oh God, Oh God!”

The lights were blinding, the sounds were deafening, and the air was stifling. I tried to fight the people holding me down, but I had no strength.

I was finally freed from the plastic shoved down my throat. I didn’t have enough strength to sit up, but I didn’t have to. Thank God for modern hospital beds. They angled me to a sitting position and I finally got my first dose of reality.

Three faces came into view. Three faces I would always recognise, no matter what. Even after ten years.

“Mom?” My voice was raspy from disuse. “Dad?” I held up a hand and a larger one clasped it. “Hey monkey.”

“Hey shortie.” came the broken reply and a playful jab to the side with the least wires. I winced, and our parents started squawking from concern.

“Where’s Jane?”

Everyone stared at me.

“Honey?” My mom asked from my side. “Who’s Jane?”

Just a dream .

Notes:

REALLY proud of this chapter. I outdid myself if I said so myself. I could have ended this differently. I probably should have. But I didn't. We've all seen the show, we can kind of guess what Sharon's role would have been in the actual SPN world. But I just wanted to write it this way. Keep a little bit of that mystery aspect. idk. i wrote smth and i like the vagueness and the lack of answers.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Existential Crisis