#like a battering ram ready to push against my adult teeth

[theropoda]

i think my wisdom teeth are erupting.... so help me GOD

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- The Usual Suspects (2.07)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: A case goes side-ways, Dean is left cornered, and it’s up to Sam and Olive to get him out of the mess. Olive falls fatally ill, and Sam must team up with a law enforcement officer.

Warnings: lots of coughing, blood, mentions of drug use, gun threats, uh ghosts and like... the usual??

Word Count: 8547

Baltimore, Maryland

Outside a motel room, a SWAT team gears up. It’s dark, and the few people outside have scattered. Someone stays closeby, but only their face is hidden. They’ve got their hood pulled up, one hand is in their pocket, and their other arm is in a makeshift sling. They’ve got a dog on a leash, and they do their best to stay in the shadows.

In a police station across the city, a sheriff enters an interrogation room and sits down.

“Well, first I thought you were just stepping up your game. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one…” he looks over the file with a sigh, “puzzled me. Grave desecration. But still, these are a long way from murder. Then we get a fax from St. Louis. Where you’re suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman. However, no one could prove anything, of course, because you died there. But I gotta tell you something. You look pretty healthy to me.”

The detective moves, sits on the table. “Now we know. Karen Giles isn’t the first person you’ve killed. But I guarantee you she’s the last.”

At the motel, the SWAT team stands outside a second floor room, ready. They knock the door down with a battering ram, and the person inside immediately puts their hands up. One of the detectives steps forward, keeping her gun on the person.

“Going somewhere, Sam?” She asks.

There’s a rifle ready to shoot the middle Winchester through the heart, and he swallows hard, eyes set in disgust as he looks at the woman.

In the police station, the detective shoots the prisoner a dirty look before getting up and walking out. The prisoner is Dean.

The person standing in the motel parking lot pulls their hood back, watching as Sam is dragged from the room. It’s Olive. She pulls the hood back up, turns on her heel, and walks off.

                                                               ***

The detective that cornered Sam enters his interrogation room. She places a coffee cup on the table, and Sam glances over, but continues to pace by the window.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Okay, so you’re the good cop.” Sam assesses. “Where’s the bad cop?”

“Oh, he’s with your brother.”

“Okay. And you’re holding us why?”

“Well he’s being held on suspicion of murder.” The woman adjusts her sleeves and a look of shock washes over Sam’s face. “And you? Well, we’ll see.”

“Murder?” Sam repeats, leaning onto the table.

“You sound genuinely surprised. Or are you that good of an actor?” The woman smiles.

“Who is he supposed to have murdered?” Sam squints.

“We’ll get around to that.”

“Well, you can’t just hold us here without formal charges!” Sam is growing more and more upset.

“Well, actually, we can. For forty eight hours, but you, being a pre-law student, would know that. You see, I know all about you, Sam.” She picks up a file folder and opens it. “You’re twenty three years old. No job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father’s whereabouts are unknown. And then there’s the case of your brother, Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like.”

Sam leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest.

“Shy?” She teases. “No problem. I’ll keep going. Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride.”

Sam says nothing. They haven’t mentioned Olive, and he’s not sure whether he should be relieved or worried. His mind spins. There’s got to be a record of her somewhere out there. Sure, she wasn’t born in a hospital, and she almost never went to the doctor, and she went to school under fake names, but there’s gotta be something.

The woman closes the file. “Then about a year ago, there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything.”

Sam says nothing, but he looks up through his eyelashes. “I needed some time off. To deal. So I’m taking a road trip with my brother.”

“And your little sister.”

Sam’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t think we forgot about little old Olive.” She smiles. “Such a strange name.”

His nose twitches in anger. He picked that name. She smiles again, wider this time.

“Where is she? We didn’t find her in the motel room. The bathroom window was open, but she couldn’t have jumped. Two stories is too high, don’t you agree?”

Sam says nothing.

“Where is she, Sam?”

He leans further into the wall.

“How’s that road trip going for you guys?”

“Great.” Sam shrugs softly, then takes the chance to derail her. “I mean…” A smile grows on his face. “We saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. It was awesome.” He pulls up a chair and straddles it.

“We ran Dean’s fingerprints through AFIS.” The detective comes to the end of the table.

“Okay.”

“Got over a dozen possible hits.”

“Possible hits.” Sam repeats. “Which makes them worthless.”

“But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?”

“Well.” Sam smiles and pounds his fist on the table, every movement dripping with sarcasm. “You be sure to let me know.” He points at the cup. “May I?”

She nods. “Please.”

“Great.” He takes the cup, smells it, and then takes a sip.

She leans over him, eyes intent.

“Sam. You seem like a good kid. It’s not your fault Dean’s your brother. We can’t pick our family. Right now, detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They’re trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death.”

There’s a scream from outside, and against all common sense, on instinct, Sam’s head snaps up. It’s Olive’s scream.

“Get off of me!” She screams, squirming.

She’s dropped Jinx off at a safe place. The Richmonds will pick her up and take care of her until this is over. Olive is being dragged through the police station, kicking and screaming. She’s managed to nail two men in the crotch, and has sent a mug full of pens to the floor.

Back in the interrogation room, Sam’s face is pale. The detective turns back to him with a smile.

“Is that baby sister Olive?”

He glares.

“She’s sixteen, isn’t she? Has been for a little less than a month now. She can be tried as an adult. Look, Dean’s a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn’t have to be, and neither does Olive’s.”

Sam turns with a glare. “You want us to turn against our own brother?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “We’ve already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces.”

“Why would I do that?” Olive spits from her seat in a third interrogation room.

They’ve cuffed her down, and she knows she could break them, but that would lead to another issue they couldn’t solve without making an even bigger mess.

“Because we can talk to the DA for you, kid.” The detective who had talked to Dean sits across from her. “Dean’s gone. You don’t have to be.”

She grits her teeth, composes herself, and then spits in his face.

“Go to hell.”

The man wipes the spit from his face angrily and stands.

“Fine. Just remember, I tried to help you.”

Sam begins to talk, voice quiet. “My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We’ve known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death.”

Cafe, Before

“Here.” Sam placed three coffee cups down and slid into his chair.

Dean handed him the newspaper he had been reading. “Anthony Giles.”

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” Sam squinted.

“Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” Olive pointed at the article she and Dean found.

Sam scanned over it, mumbling out loud. “Throat slit, room was clean. Huh. No DNA, no prints.”

“Keep reading.” Olive grinned. “It gets better.”

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” He scoffed.

“So we’re thinking either somebody messed with the tapes-”

“Or we’ve got an invisible killer on our hands.”

“My favorite kind.” Dean smiles. “What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?”

Sam scoffed, and Olive snorted.

“I’m not Scully, you’re Scully.”

“No, I’m Mulder.” Dean fought back. “You’re a red-headed woman.”

“Hey!” Olive whined. “Can I be Scully? I’m a girl.”

Dean and Sam shared a look, and each broke out into a smile. Dean patted her head and Sam gave her hand a squeeze.

“You’re too little to be either, bug.”

She rolled her eyes with a huff. “Fine, fine. Let’s go check this out.”

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

“Would’ve been kind of hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren’t in town at the time.” Sam is still straddling the chair, hands in his lap.

“So tell me what happened next.”

“Okay, uh, that when we went to see Karen.” Sam sighs. “She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her. You know?”

Giles House, Before

Karen sat on the couch, on the verge of tears. She flipped through the forms the siblings had handed her and sighed shakily.

“Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.”

“We’ve very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam smiled sympathetically.

“Sure.” Karen nodded, pushing her glasses back up.

“Okay. Um, if you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.”

“Um… Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles, and that… that he had to work late.” She sniffled again. “That was it.”

“Do you have any idea who could’ve done this to him?” Olive’s voice was sympathetic.

“No.” Karen shook her head. “No, it’s like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

“Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked.

“Unusual…” Karen trailed off.

“Yeah, like strange.”

“Strange?” She repeated.

“You know, weird. Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?”

Sam cleared his throat and glared at Dean, and Olive sent him a similar look.

Could you be any less subtle?

Karen turned to glance at Sam and Olive, who immediately switched back to the looks of concern and pity. She looked down again, and the two younger siblings shot him a look again.

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” Karen shrugged.

“What kind of nightmare?”

“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.”

“Did he say what she looked like?”

“What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?” Karen spat.

Dean squirmed, and Olive leaned forward, voice gentle.

“Our company is just very thorough. I understand this is an upsetting process, but we just need to ask a few more questions, and we’ll be on our way.”

Karen nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry. He said she was pale, and that she… she had dark red eyes.”

The siblings nodded as they each made a note.

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

“So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything, and that was it… end of story.” Sam shrugs.

“Sam, I am trying to help you here.” The detective hisses. “But you have got to be honest with me. Now, we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men and a young woman fitting you and your siblings’s descriptions breaking into Gile’s office.”

“Okay.” Sam sighs. “Look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony’s office. But the police weren’t letting her in. Like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!” Sam puts his hands up in protest.

Giles’ Office, Before

Dean picked the lock, and he ducked in first. Olive followed, and Sam went last, shutting the door behind themselves. Each ducked under the police tape with ease. Sam shone his flashlight on a pool of blood on the floor.

“Hey. Giles’ body was found right about here.”

He rummaged through his jacket pockets and pulled out the newspaper from earlier. “Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “What do you guys think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” He emphasized.

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.”

Dean picked a paper off the desk. “Look at this.”

Olive took the paper and held it where Sam could see it too. danashulps was written all over it, in small print.

“Dana Shulps. Name?” Sam suggested.

Dean picked another paper off the desk. “I dunno, but it’s all over the place.” A grin broke out on his face. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Sam shone his flashlight over the glass table and paused. Olive looked up at him.

“What is it, Sams?”

“Do me a favor, breathe onto the table.”

She eyed him, but did as he asked, pulling away when she realized that danashulps was written all over it.

“What the fuck?”

“Well, I’d say we’ve officially crossed over into weird.

“Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested.

“Or!” Olive perked up. “Maybe it’s the name of our pale, red-eyed mystery girl.”

“Alright, let’s just see what we can find.”

                                                              ***

Dean let out a loud groan, and Olive sighed from her spot on the couch. Sam was at the desktop computer, typing away.

“There’s not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There’s not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of fucking Shulps.” Dean complained.

“Great.” Olive huffed. “I can’t find anything either. Sams, what about you?”

“Nothing. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least.”

“So what now?”

“Well, I think I’m pretty close to cracking Giles’ password. Maybe there’s something in his personal files, you know?”

“By close, you mean?”

Sam shrugged. “Thirty minutes, maybe?”

Dean glanced down at his watch and sighed. “Awesome, so I guess I just get to uh… hang out.” He sighed, then grumbled something under his breath.

Olive got up from the couch and sat in the other red chair, watching as Sam worked. Dean began to click his tongue, and both younger siblings turned with similar looks of annoyance.

He paused, and once they both looked away, he started to make fart noises with his mouth. Olive stifled a giggle, and Sam sighed.

“Dude, seriously!”

“Alright, I’m gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, huh?”

“Great.” Sam huffed.

“Be careful.” Olive smiled at Dean as he stood.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her forehead, then shone his flashlight at Sam. “Keep going, Sparky.”

Third Interrogation Room, Present Day

“Then Dean went back to Karen’s place to check up on her. I mean, you know, she had obviously been upset earlier.” Olive huffs.

“So why didn’t you and Sam go with him?” The one from before, who Olive’s figured out is named Sheridan, asks.

Olive half shrugs. “I had to take care of some lady things. Sam came with me to the motel.” She pauses. “How did you know he was there, by the way?”

“We found the motel matchbook on Dean when he arrested him. Now-”

“How’d you know where to find me?” She questions.

“Let’s quit dicking around. Now you two were with Dean the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because your brother left you. To go kill Karen.”

“He didn’t kill anyone!” Olive shouts.

The anxiety is ramping, and it’s making her fractured arm hurt.

“I heard the 911 call!” Sheridan slams his fist on the table. “Karen was terrified! She said someone was in the house!”

Giles House, Before

Karen was on the couch in her pajamas, crying. The TV was on, but low. She wasn’t watching. She blew her nose, and heard something as she did. She took her glasses off to rub her eyes before quickly putting them back on. She noticed a figure in the mirror across the room.

She let out a frightened yelp and stood, turning the lights on. There was nobody there, but she turned into the bedroom and shut the door. She dialed 911 and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello, emergency services.”

“Hello? I think I saw someone in my house.”

“What’s your address?”

“It’s 421 Clinton Avenue. Please, can you-”

A click, and the call was disconnected.

“Hello?”

The printer on her desk flicked on and began to rapid-print sheets with the same thing from Tony’s office.

danashulpsdanashulpsdanashulpsdanashulps

Karen fumbled around for a flashlight, and finally turned. She turned to be face-to-face with the ghost. She screamed.

                                                              ***

Giles House, Before

Dean knocked on the door. “Karen, you in there?”

He got no answer. He looked around before bending to pick the lock. He opened the door and tried the light in the entryway. It didn’t work. He shut the door behind himself and ventured further into the house. He went up the stairs and turned into the bedroom. He pushed the door open to see Karen lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He turned and noticed the printer pages.

“Seriously, what the hell?” He grumbled.

He knelt by Karen’s body, noticing bruises on her wrists. He slowly picked up one of her hands.

“Freeze.”

Dean cursed to himself. Behind him, two cops had their guns trained on his head.

“Stay on your knees. Hands where I can see them. Now!”

He complied.

First Interrogation Room, Present Day

Sheridan sits in an observation room, where he can see Dean, who is handcuffed to a table. The detective that had been with Sam, Ballard, enters.

“You getting anywhere with him?”

“No. Just a lot of wise-ass remarks.” He grumbles.

“What about the girl?”

Sheridan rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Her story matches his down to the last detail. You?”

“Same with Sam’s.”

“Hmm. Yeah, well, these guys are good. I’ll give them that.” Sheridan crosses his arms over his chest.

Ballard sighs. “If we don’t get Sam or Olive to flip, we have nothing but a lot of circumstantial evidence.”

“Hey. We’ve got Dean at the crime scene with blood on his hands. And we caught Olive trying to steal a car. Juries have convicted for less.”

“Yeah, but…” Ballard sighs. “I mean, where’s the murder weapon? What’s the motive? You talk about reasonable doubt.”

“Diana.” Sheridan leans in and touches her face. “Do you have reasonable doubt? We keep leaning on these three, one of them will tumble. And don’t forget about St. Louis. I’m telling you. This Dean guy is our guy.”

Ballard sighs. “I know Tony Giles was a friend of yours.”

“Yeah.” Sheridan nods. “He was, he was a good friend.”

“Look, and I know you just want to clean this mess up quick, but some on. Tony knew a lot of criminal types, I mean… maybe we’re just-”

“Criminal types?” Sheridan cuts her off with a snarl. “He was a defense lawyer, for fuck’s sake. Of course he knew criminal types.”

“Alright.” Ballard sighs. “Let’s get back at them.”

“No, you know what? Let em stew in their juices for a bit.” Sheridan glances around to make sure nobody is nearby. “Come here.”

He pulls her into a kiss.

In the interrogation room, Dean huffs.

“Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps. Dana- Dana Shulps.” He mumbles to himself, eyes closed.

He’s stiff cuffed to the table, and he’s got his hands laced together as he thinks.

Sam, hands free, pulls a pad of paper and a pen to himself. He writes Dana Shulps in print, frowning as he thinks.

Olive is still cuffed to the table in her interrogation room. Her wrists are beginning to hurt, and her leg is bouncing up and down, shaking the entire table. She mutters curses as she looks around, in thought.

“It’s not a name, it’s not a name, it’s not a name.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Sam huffed as he got to work. “Anagram, maybe?”

Dean continues to mumble to himself, looking up when there’s a knock on the door.

“Mr. Winchester?” A middle aged man pokes his head in.

“Yeah.” Dean grumbles.

“Hi, I’m Jeffrey Kraus.” The man walks in. “I’m with the public defender’s office. I’m your lawyer.”

Dean deadpans. “Oh. Thank god. I’m saved.”

Kraus sits, and Dean leans forward. “Hey, could I uh, steal a pen from you? Maybe some paper?”

“Sure.” Kraus hands the items over to Dean, who goes to town. “Uh, well, the police haven’t found a weapon yet. So that’s good. But uh, they got your prints. And well,” the man chuckles, “literally blood on your hands. And with your police record, uh…” he trails off when he notices that Dean isn’t paying attention.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I think it’s an anagram.” Dean grunts.

“A what?”

“Same letters, different words.” Dean explains as he continues to scribble.

The paper now reads:

dna shulps

dan shulpas

land pushas

supash land

push landas

plush danas

He pushes it over to Kraus. “Uh, do me a favor? See if you recognize any of these words. You know, local names, places, anything like that?”

“Do you understand how serious these charges are?”

“I’m handcuffed to a table.” Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I get it. Humor me. Take a quick look.”

Kraus sighs and pulls the pad of paper over to him. “Well, I don’t know about s-u-p, but Ashland is a street name. Not far from here.”

“A street.” Dean repeats.

He takes the pad back, tears the paper off, and begins to scribble again.

“Let’s start with where you were the night Anthony Giles died.”

“Can you get in to see my brother and sister?” Dean looks up quickly.

“Mr. Winchester, you could be facing the death penalty here.”

“Hey, thanks for the law review, Matlock. But, if you wanna help me.” Dean holds up the two scraps of paper he’s written on. “I need you to see my brother and sister.”

Third Interrogation Room, Present Day

Olive unfurls the note and snorts.

Lil,

Ashland Street

Call richies if you’re alone

-Phil

“I hope that means something. He was adamant I get that to you.” Kraus sits across from her.

Olive rolls her neck. “Yeah, thanks. How far exactly is Ashland Street from here?” She crumbles up the note and looks up, expectantly.

“Uh, maybe a ten minute drive. Miss Winchester, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to-”

“No.” Olive shakes her head. “I don’t need a lawyer to talk me through this. They think Dean’s a killer, they found me stealing a car, and they’re gonna pin Sam and I as accessories. They’re gonna bring up everything we’ve ever done, gonna bring up the fact that our dad is gone, gonna say Dean had blood on his hands, and that’s gonna be the end of it.”

Kraus sighs. “You’re sixteen-”

“They’re gonna try me as an adult, I know.” She nods again. “Look, Matlock, why don’t you go talk to Sam? He’s prelaw, full ride to Stanford. I’m sure he can help you work out a strategy for us.” She smiles a sickly sweet smile, but it’s full of anger and poison.

Krau sighs a third time before getting up and exiting the room.

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

Sam reads over the note Dean sent.

Hilts-

It’s a street

Ashland

-McQueen

Kraus sighs. “I hope that’s meaningful. But I’d like to discuss your case now.”

Sam gestures to the chair in front of him. “Sure thing, Matlock.”

Kraus sighs again. “You three really are siblings, aren’t you?” He sits. “Now, as you know, the DA might be interested in-”

A knock on the door, and then Ballard barges in.

“We need you.” She looks at Kraus. “With the other one.”

Sam stares at the door after they close it. He huffs. Several people have crowded outside Dean’s interrogation room, watching as the digital camera is set up across from him.

“Counselor?” Sheridan grins. “Your boy decided to confess.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Kraus warns. “I’d strongly advise against that.”

“Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record.”

Dean clears his throat and sits up. He leans forward and looks into the camera. “My name is Dean Michael Winchester. I’m an Aquarius.” A smile begins to creep onto his face. He knows that if Sam and Olive were to see this, they would roll their eyes and break into a cackle, respectively. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone.” His smile drops. “But I know who did. Or rather, what, did. Of course, it can’t be for sure because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we’re looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

“Excuse me?” Ballard spits.

“You know,” Dean shrugs. “Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?”

People in the observation room begin to laugh.

“Tony Giles saw it. I’ll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason, it’s trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain’t easy.” Dean shakes his head. “You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember redrum. Same concept. You know, it’s uh, word fragments, sometimes it’s anagrams. See, at first we thought it was a name. Dana Shulps. But now we think it’s a street. Ashland. Whatever’s going on, I’ll bet you it started there.”

Dean spreads his hands and smiles. His part is done.

“You arrogant bastard!” Sheridan shouts. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you’re making jokes!”

“I’m not joking, Ponch.” Dean’s lip curls up.

“You murdered them in cold blood! Just like that girl in St. Louis!”

“Oh, yeah…” Dean sucks in air through his teeth. “That wasn’t me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.”

He smiles at the camera again, and Sheridan snaps. He picks Dean up by the collar, which is no easy task, as he’s 6’ 2” and about 170 pounds. He slams him against the wall, and although Dean is uncomfortable, he doesn’t flinch. He keeps his cold front.

“Pete, that is enough!” Ballard pulls him off.

“You asked for the truth.” Dean speaks calmly.

“Lock his ass up.” Sheridan spits, dropping Dean to his feet.

Another cop takes over and shoves Dean face-first against the wall, cuffing him. Dean grunts, but a sense of calm washes over him. He did what needed to be done. Sam and Olive would fix it from here.

Sheridan storms into Olive’s interrogation room, only to find her gone. He lets out a frustrated scream and throws a chair across the room. A breeze blows through the window, and he sticks his head out. It’s a five story drop, and the fire escape is at least six feet away. There’s no way she could’ve reached it.

“Where is she!” He shouts.

Ballard comes running. “Sam’s gone!”

She blinks, noticing that Sheridan is the only one in the room. “What?”

“What did they do? The fire escapes way over there! For both of them!”

“These fuckers.” Ballard hisses, showing Sheridan the note left on Sam’s table.

“Hilts and McQueen? Lil and Phil?” Sheridan spits.

“Hilts is Steve McQueen’s character in the Great Escape.” Ballard sighs. “And Lil and Phil are from the Rugrats.”

Sheridan lets out another scream.

                                                              ***

Dean is cuffed once more, in a smaller room. Ballard enters, looking around, nervous. Dean huffs.

“Can we make this quick? I’m a little tired, it’s been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.”

“I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier.”

Dean hums. “Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

She circles around to stand in front of him. “Let’s pretend, for the moment, you’re not entirely insane.”

Dean hums again. “What would one of these things be doing here?”

“A vengeful spirit?”

Ballard nods, and Dean pouts as he thinks.

“Well, they’re created by violet deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt em.”

“And, uh, these things… they’re capable of killing people?” She asks, rubbing her neck.

Dean smiles, lining up his next smart-ass response, when he notices deep, dark bruises on her wrists, the same he had seen on Karen’s.

“Where’d you get those?”

Ballard sighs and pulls up her sleeves, seeing the bruises for the first time.

“I don’t know. It… it wasn’t there before.”

“You’ve seen it before, haven’t you? The spirit?”

“How’d you know?”

“Cause Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I’m willing to bet that if you look at Giles’ autopsy photos, he’s got em too. It’s got something to do with this spirit, I… I just don’t know what.”

Ballard turns away, looking into the mirror.

“I know. You think you’re going crazy. But let’s skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?”

She turns back to him, face drained of color. “You think I’m going to die.”

Dean sighs. “You need to go to Sam and Olive. They’ll help.”

Ballard’s shoulders fall. “You’re giving them up.”

Dean sighs again, looking away. “Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for Jim Rockford and Angel Martin. It’s how we find each other when we’re all separated. Now, you can arrest them if you want.” He looks up at her. “Or you can let them save your life.”

Motel Room, Present Day

Sam sits at a desk, rifling through files. Somebody knows on the door, and his head perks up. The person knocks again, and this time Sam gets up. He tucks a handgun into the back of his jeans and looks through the peephole.

He throws the door open with a sigh of relief. Olive tumbles into his arms, shaking. He holds her, then realizes that her legs have given out, and she’s relying entirely on him. He picks her up by the waist and puts her down on the bed, kicking the door shut.

“Bug, what happened?”

She coughs, and a few specks of blood fly out. “I had to jump. I wasn’t gonna make it to the fire escape, so I just went straight down.” She groans. “I landed in a dumpster, my leg broke, and my lungs hurt. I’m mostly healed now, but… it still hurts.” She leans back onto the wall with a heavy sigh.

“Fuck.” Sam mumbles under his breath.

He sees the fear in Olive’s eyes and sits next to her, pulling her to rest in his lap. “Okay. Once we get all of this fixed, I promise we’ll go straight to Bobby. Okay?” He runs a hand through her hair.

She coughs again. “We’ve gotta get Dean.”

The door opens, and Sam whips the gun out, his other hand holding Olive protectively. It’s Ballard. She eyes the gun, and Sam hesitates. She gives a soft smile, and Sam puts the gun down. Olive doesn’t move. She’s scared she’ll cough up a lung, and she’s barely breathing as is. Sam notices Ballard’s eyes on her.

“You’ll have to sit here.” He gestures to the bed.

She does so. “I saw it.”

“What?” Olive speaks, then coughs again, ending with a groan.

Ballard eyes Olive again, then shows Sam her wrists. He takes her hands in his and winces as he looks over the pink skin.

“These showed up after you saw it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ballard sighs.

“Alright. You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you saw.”

Ballard hesitates. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You’re both fugitives. I should be arresting you.”

“You can arrest us later.” Olive rasps. “After we get through this.”

“She’s right.” Sam sighs. “Right now you’ve gotta talk to me.”

Ballard nods.

“Okay. The spirit, what did it look like?”

“She was… um, really pale. Her throat was cut, and her eyes… they were like, this deep dark red. It appeared like she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn’t. It was just… a lot of blood.”

“Okay. There.” Sam points to the desk, and she rises, going to it. “I’ve been researching every girl that’s ever died or gone missing from Ashland street.”

“How’d you get these?” Ballard flips through the photos. “These are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

“You have your job, we have ours. Look through them, tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She sits down and begins to look through papers. Sam turns back to Olive and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Okay, bug?”

Olive mumbles an agreement and lets Sam move her out of his lap. He goes to the bathroom, wets a towel, and brings it back, placing it on her forehead. He’s seen her sick like this before, but it’s never been this bad. Panic begins to grow in his chest as he fills a glass with water. He doesn’t know what to do. He needs Dean.

“This is her. I’m sure of it.”

Sam places the cup of water down on the nightstand and goes to stand at the desk with Ballard.

“Claire Becker. Twenty eight years old, disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don’t even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Ballard’s growing exasperated.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam suggests.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide.”

“You ever bust her?”

Ballard shakes her head. “Not that I remember.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.”

“What?” Ballard squints.

“Salt and burn em. It’s the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Olive speaks, eyes closed and voice thin and scratchy.

The panic flares in Sam’s chest once more. He needs Dean. She needs Dean.

Ballard sighs. “Of course it is.”

“Sammy, I wanna come with you. I wanna help.” She starts to sit up.

“No, no, no, Ollie. I can’t let you.” Sam rushes to her side, pushing her back down. “No, baby girl. You’re too weak, you’ve gotta stay here.”

“But I wanna help save Dean.” She whines.

“I know, babes, I know. But I need you safe, and that means you have to stay here.”

“She should be in a hospital right now.” Ballard states.

“No!” Olive jumps, then proceeds to cough, spitting blood into the crook of her elbow.

Sam rubs her back and shakes his head. “No hospitals. She can’t do hospitals.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Family issue.”

Olive groans, then rolls onto her side, looking up at Sam with puppy eyes. He sighs again, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” She whispers.

Healing large injuries drains her more than turning itself does. A broken leg is no small feat, and she’s definitely injured her lungs. But she had to get out of there, so she forced herself to begin to heal. Once she’s started, she can’t turn the healing process back off. It’s killing her.

She doesn’t want to be alone when she dies.

They both know it.

He helps her sit up, and they both ignore the grunt of pain that escapes her lips. He holds her tightly, but gently.

“Okay.”

2911 Ashland Street, Present Day

Sam leads them down into a creepy warehouse. Olive has her finger hooked in his belt loop, and her feet are dragging. She’s getting worse by the minute, but she refuses to let her mind slip away, not until she sees Dean.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

“I’ll let you know when we find it.” Sam whispers.

They split up. Sam and Olive start up a flight of stairs as Ballard continues on the lower level. She turns around a corner, and sees Claire, standing by a window. She gasps, and Claire moves towards her, trying to speak.

“Sam? Sam!”

Sam and Olive share a look. Olive lets go of his belt loop and nods, and he runs back down the stairs, toward Ballard. Claire disappears.

“Hey! Hey, I’m here. What is it, what happened?” Sam looks her up and down, noticing that she’s unscatched.

“Claire…”

“Where?” Olive croaks, making her way down the stairs.

“Here. She was here.”

“Did she attack you?” Sam asks.

Ballard shakes her head. “No,” she hesitates, “No, she was just like… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.” She points.

Sam and Olive share a look before Sam moves the shelves away from the window. Olive squints as the words printed on the glass become clear.

Ashland Supplies

She snorts. “That’s the word.”

“Well, yeah, now the extra letters make sense.” Sam fishes an EMF reader from his pocket and slowly makes his way to the wall, where the words are perfectly shadowed.

“What is that?”

Olive stumbles to follow her brother as she clears her throat. “Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies.”

“So, if Clarie’s body were here, it would tell you?”

“Yeah, that’s the theory.” Sam mumbles.

The EMF meter begins to purr, and Sam turns back around to a brick wall. He sighs and looks around. Olive spots a rusted crowbar and drags it behind her as she follows Sam. He plucks it from her hand and begins to break through the wall. Olive coughs as dust and debris fly through the air. She slumps down against the staircase, coughing every so often. Her head falls back when she’s not struggling to breathe, and her eyes are beginning to roll into the back of her head.

“There’s definitely something in there.” Sam grunts as he continues to break through the wall. “You know? This is bothering me.”

“Well, you are digging up a corpse.” Ballard shrugs.

“No, no, uh…” Sam chuckles. “That’s pretty par for the course, actually.”

“Then what?”

“I mean, it’s just… no vengeful spirit we’ve ever dealt with wanted to be wasted… so why the hell would Claire lead us to her own remains?”

Olive lets out another cough, this one sounding loud and wet. Sam pauses and stares at her. Her head is back against the wall, her mouth is open and bloody, and her eyes are closed. She’s pale, sweaty, and barely breathing.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Ballard shakes her head, snapping Sam back into reality.

He shakes his head, again glancing over his shoulder at the teenager sprawled on the ground.

“Here, gimme a hand.”

Together, they pull out a body that is wrapped in shrouds of cloth, and place it on the ground. Sam fishes out a pocket knife and cuts the ropes off, revealing the body. He sighs, looking back at Olive. Her eyes are shut, and her head is falling off to the side. Her chest heaves with each breath, and Sam can hear her wheezing. Ballard puts her wrists out, above Claire’s.

“Her wrists, yeah.” Sam turns back. “They’d be bruised just like yours.”

Ballard reaches out with a shaky hand, cautiously touching a necklace on the body. Sam perks up.

“That necklace mean anything to you?”

“I’ve seen it before. It’s rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” Ballard’s hand goes back to her own neck. “I have one just like it.” She looks up at Sam. “Pete gave it to me.”

He huffs. “Now this makes sense.”

“I’m sorry?”

“She’s a death omen, not a vengeful spirit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Claire’s not killing people.” Sam sighs. “She’s trying to warn them. You see, sometimes, spirits, they don't want revenge. They want justice.” He nods to himself. “Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” He pauses, and it clicks in his head. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

“Oh my god.” Ballards face falls.

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously, it was a cop. We never found out who did it, but whoever it was would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam snorts. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

Olive stumbles to her feet. Her lips are dry and her skin is devoid of color. Her fangs are peeking out of her mouth, and her eyes are watery.

“Dean’s in danger.”

Armored Van on a Highway, Present Day

“So I’m being extradited to St. Louis, huh?”

Dean gets no answer, so he tries again.

“And you just decided to transfer me yourself, eight hundred miles at two in the morning?”

Again, nothing. The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck begin to rise.

“This can’t be good.”

Baltimore, Present Day

“Okay. Thanks.” Ballard snaps her phone shut.

“What is it?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

He’s in the backseat with Olive. She’s in and out of it, and she looks worse every time they pass under a street light.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean.”

“What?” Olive forces her eyes open as she sits up, grunting.

“He said the prisoner had to be transfered, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won’t answer the radio.”

“Radio?” Sam repeats. “He took a county vehicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then they should have a lo-jack. We’ve just gotta get it turned on.”

Empty stretch of road, Present Day

The van pulls off onto the side of the road. Dean pushes the rising anxiety and leans forward.

“Pee break? So soon?” He taunts. “Might wanna get your prostate checked.”

Sheridan says nothing before he gets out. Dean listens as the footsteps circle around to the back of the van.

“Son of a bitch.” He groans to himself.

Sheridan yanks the backdoors open, and Dean inches away.

“Hey, man. I’m cool in the van. You go do what you gotta do.”

Sheridan grabs him by the jacket and hauls him out of the van, throwing him onto the wet ground. Dean lands with a grunt, squirming to sit up.

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.” Sheridan spits. “You think those people in St. Louis are gonna buy that shit you’re peddling?”

Dean makes it to his knees and pants, staring at Sheridan.

“Here’s the thing. You’re not gonna make it to St. Louis. You’re gonna die trying to escape.”

Dean blinks, and Sheridan’s gun is out, pointed between his eyes.

“Wait!” Dean pleads. “Wait, let’s talk about this. I mean, you don’t wanna do something that you’re gonna regret later.”

Sheridan only cocks the gun.

“Or maybe you do.”

Olive growls from low in her throat, holding back a cough and the load of blood in her mouth. Sheridan turns at the noise, and Ballard puts her gun up. Sam tucks Olive into his side, shielding her from the gun. She’s shaking, and Dean’s eyes are glued to her.

His stomach drops. She’s dying. He knows it.

“Pete! Put the gun down.”

“Diana? How’d you find me?” The gun goes back to Dean’s head, and Olive feels bile rise in her throat.

Sam hugs her tighter.

“I know about Claire.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sheridan shakes his head, gun still up.

“Put the gun down!” She shouts.

Sheridan drops the act, and a smirk grows on his face. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re fast. I’m pretty sure I’m faster.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan shakes his head.

“It’s a little late for that.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Sheridan scoots closer to Dean, and another growl rips through Olive’s throat.

She swallows what she can and spits blood onto the grass.

“Claire was trying to turn me in! I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?”

Sheridan shakes his head again. “Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I’m sure he told Karen everything.”

Dean’s eyes go back to his younger siblings. Sam’s holding the entirety of Olive’s weight, and he’s looking at Dean with big eyes. Dean shakes his head, and Sam looks about ready to cry. Olive lets out a weak cough.

“It was a mess. I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan shook his head.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?”

“There’s a way out.” Sheridan looks back at Dean. “This Dean kid’s a freaking gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just… just one more dead scumbag.”

“Hey.” Dean fronts.

Sheridan puts the gun closer, and Dean backs off, shoulders falling.

“No one will question it. Diana, please.” Sheridan begs. “I still love you.”

Ballard puts the gun down with a sigh. Dean’s eyes fill with tears as Sheridan’s gun connects with his head. A loud growl tears through the trees, and Sheridan is tackled to the ground. Dean rolls out of the way, and Sam pulls him up. Ballard tries to get a shot, but she can’t.

There’s another loud growl, and the tangle of limbs stops moving. Sheridan is down, and Olive falls to her knees, coughing loudly and violently. Blood sprays everywhere, and the second she stops coughing she begins to throw up. Sam rushes over, holding her hair back. Diana unlocks Dean’s handcuffs, and he joins his brother, watching as Olive fights to breathe.

Blood continues to drip from her mouth as she wheezes, chest heaving. Dean pulls her into his chest, and she begins to shake.

“So now what, officer?” Dean asks, cradling Olive like a baby.

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up all your cases. Royally. I’d say there’s a good chance that we could get them dismissed.”

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam looks up.

“Yeah. But the St. Louis murder charges? That’s another story. I can’t help you. Unless…” Ballard sighs. “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, she’s sure, Sam.” Dean hissed.

“No, it’s just… I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

She shakes her head. “Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I’ll sleep better at night.”

Olive lets out another strangled cough, and Dean pushes her hair from her face.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Ballard asks.

“I don’t know.” Sam whispers, in shock.

“Where’s my car?” Dean calls.

“It’s at the impound yard down on Robertson.”

Dean groans, shooting Sam a look. “We need Dad’s journal, it could have answers.”

Ballard shakes her head. “Don’t even think about taking the car. You guys have to get out of here. I have to radio this in.”

The boys nod and Dean hoists Olive up. Coughs continue to rack her body, and she’s spitting blood everywhere. Sam takes her from him and they start down the muddy road.

“Dean, what do we do?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this before.” Dean hisses back.

“We’re miles away from Dad’s journal. We’ll never make it in time.”

Olive wheezes, then coughs again, choking on her blood and spit. Dean stops, panting. He shakes his head at Sam, who is staring back with wide eyes.

“Sam, we can’t do anything.”

Olive’s stomach heaves again, and blood is the only thing to come out. Sam sighs as he stops. The brothers kneel down, and Sam places Olive between them.

She stares between the two with tears in her eyes.

I’m sorry.

Dean pushes her hair out of her face with a soft smile. “We love you.”

Sam is trembling, enraged. He picks her back up and shakes his head. Dean follows, shouting Sam’s name.

“We have to be able to do something, Dean. I’m not gonna watch her die.”

“We don’t have Dad’s journal!”

“Then we call Bobby!”

“Sam, we don’t even know if Bobby knows.”

“We have to try!”

Dean swallows the bad taste in his mouth as he yanks out his phone and dial’s Bobby’s number. Olive coughs.

He puts it on speaker. “Hello.”

“Bobby!” Sam shouts.

“What’s wrong, kids?”

“Olive’s dying, we don’t know what to do!”

“What?”

“Bobby, we’ve gotta tell you something important.”

“You sister’s part Okami. I know. What happened?”

The boys blink at each other, but a groan from Olive snaps them back into reality.

“The healing process is killing her. What do we do?”

There’s a long sigh, and Dean watches the little color left in Olive’s face drain. Her chest heaves once more, and then she stops breathing. He drops the phone, snatching Olive from Sam’s hold.

“Olive!”

“Bobby!” Sam grabs the phone, in tears.

“Blood.”

“What?”

“She needs blood. Once a day, every day. It’ll make her stronger, she won’t get sick again.”

“Bobby, we’re not-”

“Gimme your knife.” Dean interrupts.

“What?” Sam’s eyes go wide.

“Give me your fucking knife!”

Sam doesn’t move, and Dean forces Olive’s mouth open. He slices his palm against her fang and groans as blood trickles out.

It falls in droplets, staining her teeth and her tongue. The phone call is long forgotten, and Sam is on his knees by their side. Olive’s eyes begin to twitch behind her eyelids, and Dean gasps. He squeezes his hand, bleeding harder.

A second passes, and Sam stares at Dean. Dean doesn’t look up from Olive.

Her fangs begin to recede, and Dean watches, shaking. A small cough moves her body, and then she begins to wheeze. Sam drops his head to her chest. He hears her heart and he lets out a loud sigh, resting his head against her.

“Boys?”

Her voice is soft and unharmed. She sounds like she just woke up from a nap. Dean pulls her up and hugs her. She sniffs, reaching up to rub her eyes.

“How?”

Sam lets out a weak laugh and brushes her hair back. “Dean saved you.”

She leans into her oldest brother and looks up with a soft smile.

“Thanks, De.”

He laughs and kisses the top of her head before pulling her back into a second hug. “Anything for you, baby girl. Anything for you.”

Previous Ep: No Exit (2.06)

Next Ep: Crossroad Blues (2.08)

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