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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

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Dream On

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC: Ellie)

Disclaimers: graphic injuries, tears, blood, death, angst, TEARS

Word Count: 3.7K

A/N: this takes places when Ellie is about 16, so roughly four years before the start of season 1 :)

M A S T E R L I S T

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Something’s gone wrong. Something has definitely gone wrong.

One second, I’m hunting the Djinn, creeping through the abandoned house and the next second, the lights cut out and I’m swimming in darkness. I can no longer feel the rotting floorboards under my boots but now it’s solid ground. My hunter instincts instantly kick in, trying to find anything to lead me to safety but I can’t even see my hand in front of my face much less a place to hide.

The scuff of a shoe against the floor made me stop. I glanced around, turning in circles, my heart sinking, “Hello?”

A snicker came from behind me. I whipped toward the sound, instinctively feeling around the back of my jeans for my gun but felt the sudden nakedness when I realized it wasn’t there. The sound came again but this time closer. “Hello?”

Then, a fist collided with the side of my face, sending me stumbling to the right. I held my jaw, blindly searching for the hands of the assaulter when another blow came to the other side of my face. I rotated my jaw before rearing my own hand back and slicing through the air in the direction from where the hits were coming. However, before I could even make contact, a hand grabbed my closed fist, twisting my arm behind my back, clutching my elbow. I felt the person close behind me, their breath on my neck. Their hand tightened harder around my elbow, squeezing until I was sure the bones would snap clean in half.

“You so insecure you’ve gotta tango with the lights off?” I laughed before it turned into a groan. I grimaced when their grip on my arm became tighter. “What? You don’t want to see a girl kick your ass?”

I felt nails begin to bury themselves under my skin, rivulets of blood falling down my arm. I grit my teeth, not wanting to give whoever the hell this was the satisfaction of hearing me in pain. I felt the breath come closer, this time, nearly inches from my ear. I could hear their breathing, could smell the metallic scent of blood that rolled off their tongue.

“You are the last person I’m worried about,” the voice said. It was a woman, I could tell. Suddenly, I was aware of the ends of her short hair tickling the side of my face and I realized how close she really was. Before she could get away, I slammed my head backwards, right into the middle of her face.

The jab was enough to get her to let go of my arm. I turned on the spot and now that my eyes had adjusted even a little, I could slightly make out the shape of her in the darkness. I threw two punches to the middle of her face and then landed one in her abdomen, making her double over. I jutted my knee upward into her stomach.

In the split second between my knee connecting with her stomach and bringing it back down to the floor, she gripped my leg, one hand under my knee and the other at my foot. I tried to pry it from her grasp, but she’d already tightened her hand around my ankle and forcefully snapped it to the side.

The sound of my bones breaking filled the room and this time I couldn’t suppress the scream that came from my lips. A booted foot collided with my sternum, knocking me clean to the ground, all the wind escaping my body. I sputtered, trying to roll away when I felt the weight of her on top of me, straddling my stomach, pinning me to the floor.

Her fists came quickly and painfully over my face, my head having nowhere to go except against the solid ground under me. With each hit, my brain rattled, my skull felt like it’d crack in a split second. I tried to bring my hands up to shield my face or to at least knock her hands away, but an invisible force yanked them from my sides and pinned them over my head.

Then, it was like the curtains had been drawn back. Moonlight filled the room. I could finally see her above me, her fists rearing back. I felt my nose break under her closed hands, blood gushing down my face and seeping into my mouth. I desperately tried to pull my arms from above my head but the weight holding them down was stronger than anything I’d ever felt.

“All that blood looks good on you,” she said, after a while when the blows had finally stopped coming. She gently ran her bloody hand over my hair before grabbing a fistful of it and pulling me up toward her. I gasped, gripping her wrist. “It really brings out your eyes.”

“What do you want?” I managed out. Now that I was only inches from her face, I was able to get a better look at her. Even in the dark I could see her pools of black eyes. My heart pounded unsteadily. “What’re you gonna do?”

The demon laughed again, “Would you like me to show you?”

The idea didn’t exactly sound pleasant, but she didn’t give me a choice when she brought her hand between our faces, her thumb and middle finger coming together. I furrowed my eyebrows, my vision doubling from the hits she’d landed but with her hand this close the double image merged into one.

She snapped, and that’s all it took for a blinding pain to radiate through my abdomen. I screamed as the first rib shattered, holding my side in agony. She snapped again, closer to my ear, taunting me as the second rib exploded. I screamed even louder, banging my fists on her chest to try to get her away from me but it was no use. With every hit she snapped her fingers again until four of my ribs were completely obliterated.

I couldn’t breathe. The instant fear filling me that my lung had been punctured. I tried to focus on my breathing; anything except the blinding pain inside me. That’s when I heard his voice. It was low, demanding. So terrifying that even my screams of pain stopped momentarily to turn my head to my left from where the words were coming from.

“Get away from her before I break every bone in your body,” a voice from the other side of the room snarled. Fear filled me when usually it would be relief at the sound of his voice. Sam and Dean had suddenly appeared, bound to chairs.

“Oh, now that’d be a neat trick,” she laughed. Had they been here the whole time? What the hell is going on? “Because last time I checked, I’m not the one tied up right now.”

The two of them strained against the rope that anchored them. Her lips pulled backwards in a grin as she released the grip on my hair, letting me drop to the floor. I gasped at the impact against my ribs, panting. Dean grit his teeth, his eyes roaming my bloodied body. For once, he actually looked scared.

She smiled as she stepped toward them, “It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“What’s this about?” Sam asked, his face contorting in pain when his eyes bounced down at me. “What the hell do you want?”

“It’s not what I want, Sammy boy,” she said as she leaned down close to him. She lightly grazed his cheek with her blood soaked finger, leaving a trail of it behind. Before swinging her fist and landing it across his cheek. He huffed, glaring up at her. “It’s what he wants.”

I narrowed my eyes at her words but couldn’t muster the strength to say what I was thinking, but Dean and I were on the same page. He watched her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead already. “Mind being a little more specific?”

She came to a stop in front of Dean’s chair, resting her hands on Dean’s forearms, leaning in close to his face. He instinctively pulled back slightly but kept his eyes trained on her nonetheless.

“The big man downstairs,” she whispered just loud enough for us to hear. My heart pounded unsteadily, trying to ignore the pain in my body that was now turning to an excruciatingly dull ache. I pulled myself from where I was laying, propping myself up against the wall behind me. “Something big is coming and you three…you three are playing for the wrong team.”

“What d-does th-that…mean?” I asked, struggling to breathe.

She let her gaze linger on Dean for a little longer before pushing away. “A war. Of good and evil. Of the just and the corrupt. Word around town is that he wants you to lead the charge.”

Sam, Dean and I shared a look at her words. Dean scoffed, “They want us to lead some Hellspawns into battle? Have they met us? We don’t exactly have a friendly past with things like you.”

“This isn’t about making friends,” she said. “This is about life and death.”

“No,” Sam said. “Why would we ever say yes to you?”

“You don’t have a choice!” She shot back. “All of this – everything you’ve ever killed for has been leading you to this! Every move you’ve made, every monster you’ve come across has been to prepare you for what’s to come!”

Sam, Dean and I shared a silent look at her words, unsure whether or not to believe her. Why would she go through all of this just to lie?

“All o-of it?” I breathed out. I gripped my sides. “Everything?”

She looked back over to me over her shoulder, “Everything.”

I let my head roll back to the wall, lightly banging it. This whole time, we thought we were doing good. Doing what we needed to do to keep people safe but all it was doing was preparing us for the worst possible outcome.

“However, there is one thing you do get to choose,” she said although it didn’t sound reassuring. “They only want two of you.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“It’s more fun that way,” she grinned. “It’s going to be so fun to see you tear each other apart.”

Dean clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Nah, I think we’ll pass. You know what is going to happen, though? He and I?” He motioned to Sam who was glaring up at her. “We’re going to tear you apart limb for limb for laying a hand on her. Then maybe we’ll kill you…maybe we won’t. Maybe we’ll just leave you here for the rest of your god-forsaken life.”

The demon clicked her tongue at his words. She turned halfway around like she was going to ignore his threats until she whipped around and struck him across the face, too. The demon pounded her fists over and over again until blood was coating his face.

“Stop!” Sam and I screamed at her until she finally let up.

I closed my eyes wishing, no, praying, for something I could use to defend us with. When I opened them again, I could’ve cried. The barrel of my gun caught the moonlight, winking at me. I dragged my eyes across the room, watching the demon’s back that was turned to me. I slowly and carefully reached my hand out, the tips of my fingers just barely grazing the hilt.

It was too late when I realized she was over my body, kicking the gun out of arms reach. I half expected her to break my hand, but instead she brought her own hand up, clenching it into a tight fist. Instantly, my insides felt like they were turning to soup as blood poured from my mouth, making me roll onto my side, heaving.

“Ellie!” Dean shouted. I could hardly hear his string of threats he cursed at the woman over the pounding of my head.

“Please! You’re killing her!” Sam screamed. The blood dripped in an endless stream from between my lips and onto the cold floor. I coughed, my broken ribs rattling as the blood sprayed. She ignored him, forcing me onto my back again, nudging the toe of her shoe into my side. I gritted my teeth in agony.

“Tell me to stop,” she said, straddling my waist and pulling me up by the hair again. “Beg for it.”

I grimaced as I watched her silently, collecting the blood in my mouth before spitting it right in her face, “I’d r-rather die…than b…beg to y-you.”

She smirked, gripping my hair tighter as she pulled her knife form the ground. She balanced the tip of it threateningly over my exposed throat, letting it dance over the artery. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact that failed to come. Failed to come because of the words that escaped Dean’s mouth, “I’ll beg, then.”

Silence filled the room. She tore her black eyes from mine, trailing them over to Dean. A smirk played at her snarled lips, “Oh?”

“I’ll beg,” Dean repeated. He wasn’t meeting her eyes but looking at me. “I’ll do whatever you want but — please, please just- just stop.”

“No,” I whispered, knowing the extent this could go to. Her grip on my hair loosened as she dropped me back to the floor. I tried pushing myself up. “Dean you can’t. You can’t.”

“I’m supposed to protect you right?” He said. “Protect my little sister? No matter what it takes.”

“Stop,” I begged him, unable to think about what he was about to agree to.

Her hand clenched into a fist again and more blood pooled out of my mouth. She snickered as she turned back to him, “Well, go on then. Start begging.”

“I’ll do it,” he pleaded. I coughed harder, trying to get the blood out from my airways. It was pooling on the ground, seeping under my hands that were pressed firmly on the floor. “Whatever you’re here for, I’ll do it.”

“Dean, let’s think about this,” Sam said to him this time.

“There’s nothing to think about, Sammy,” he said. I gagged on the blood, the stream turning to a steady trickle. “Take me. Not them.”

“Dean, no,” Sam pleaded.

The demon walked circles around us, obviously enjoying the show being put on, “Hmmm, that’s so...heroic of you. But it’s just not gonna cut it. You’re gonna need to sweeten the pot. I need one more. One more pitiful Winchester soul to drag downstairs with me. Now, who’s it gonna be?”

“Me,” Sam and I said in unison, our eyes catching each other’s.

“Sam, d-don’t even think about i-it,” I breathed out.

“Ellie I’m not gonna let you die,” he shot back. He looked over to Dean. “It has to be me.”

I knew Dean hated just the mention of either of us dying. I could see it in the way he closed his eyes, the way he tightened his fists against the arms of the chair he was bound to.

“‘Ol Sammy’s taking the bait?” She asked, sauntering towards him, a smile plastered on her face.

“No he’s not,” I countered, panting with even so few words. “Please. Please…take me. I’m already d-…dying.”

“Be good,” Sam said. His words struck something deep in my stomach. He made up his mind and I knew he wouldn’t let me continue to argue with him. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Sam, no,” I cried.

Dean clenched his jaw, and I could tell he was hurting. “Take care of the car, alright? Remember what I showed you? How to fix her up?” I cried even harder, my broken ribs screaming in pain. Dean tore his eyes away from me.

“You can’t leave me,” I cried, coughing up more blood, my tears mixing with it. “You’re all I have.”

“Time’s almost up, Ellie,” the demon reminded me. I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Sammy…” I breathed out, opening my eyes and looking up at him. Tears were pooled in his eyes, too. “Sammy you’ve always…b-been there for me- every time…No matter what, you were th-there.” Sam was crying now, willing his eyes to stay on mine as I went on. I took in a shaky breath. “And e-even after everything y-you’ve b-been through…you taught me how to…m-make the most with what I-I’ve been dealt.”

I tore my eyes away from Sam, the pain in my heart was so much stronger than any broken bone. This one hurt the worst. I dragged my eyes over to Dean who was trying so hard to be strong. “Dean…you were m-more of a…father to me a-and Sammy…than dad h-has ever been. You’ve given…up so m-much for us. Y-You spent your whole life l-looking out for us. I just…I just wish I c-could’ve done that for y-you.”

I was wheezing by the time I’d finished talking, trying to catch my breath. I watched as the demon scooped up my gun that she’d kicked across the room. My stomach dropped to my toes as she made her way back across the room, circling to the back of their chairs. Sam stiffens. She brings the gun up to the back of Dean’s head, resting the barrel on his skull but he doesn’t even react. He just closes his eyes. I nearly vomit at the sight.

“Don’t,” I plead again, trying to stand on my feet but it’s no use. The woman brings her black eyes up to mine and she’s smiling and I realize there’s nobody in this world I’d like to kill more. “Please.”

“It’s alright,” Dean tries to reassure. “It’s-”

I don’t slam my eyes shut fast enough when two gunshots ring throughout the room. I scream. My hands held tightly over my eyes in an attempt to get the picture out of my head but it’s too late and the damage is already done. My broken ribs jostle with every intake of breath but I can’t find it in me to care. The demon is laughing so loud it practically shakes the floor under me.

“Hey...hey!”

It was Dean. I shook my head, not daring to let the demon trick me into opening my eyes. To see them like that. That’s when I hear Sam’s voice, “El! Hey, come on, El.”

I felt soft pressure against my cheeks but nothing to cause it. I felt around my face when I heard their voices again, calling for me, closer this time.

Suddenly, I was submerged in darkness again, the pain that was once lingering through my body disappeared but was now replaced with a different kind of pain. I was dizzy, my arms, hands and fingers feeling cold and numb. I tried to open my eyes, but it took too much effort.

“Ellie?” It was Sam. I let out a quiet moan. I could feel my toes dragging over splintering wood.

“She’s awake.” It was Dean this time. His warm hands met my cheeks, patting them lightly. “Hey, there she is. Come on, you’ve slept enough, kiddo.”

I tore my eyelids back, my eyes flitting across Dean who was directly in front of me and then over to Sam who was reaching above me, cutting away at the rope I could now feel digging into my wrists.

“Dean,” I whispered, trying my voice, dragging my eyes over to him.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” he said, sounding relieved. He pulled out a long needle that had been in my neck. He smiled softly. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“S’mmy...” I whimpered as he slowly brought my arms back down, the blood rushing back to my fingertips. The sudden position change making me feel faint. “You were dead…You were dead.”

“We’re not dead, El, we’re right here,” Sam reassured. I tried to move my legs, but it was no use, I could hardly support any of my weight. I stumbled forward.

“I gotcha,” Sam said, grabbing me before I could fall. I tried to keep my eyes open, scared that if they closed again I’d be sent right back where I was.

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“You’ve gotta eat something,” Sam prodded, holding out the package of saltine crackers to me. I reluctantly took them, taking a small bite of the corner of the cracker.

I couldn’t get the sight of them out of my head, the split second between the gun going off and when I shut my eyes felt like an eternity. There was blood. So much blood.

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face when the front door to Bobby’s house opened and then closed again. Dean came around the corner into the living room, a brown bag in his arms.

He pulled out a water bottle, handing it to me. I grimaced at it, resting my head against the back of the couch. He glanced at the crackers in my hand, “Do I need to do the airplane thing I used to do?”

“Shut up,” I said, letting out a soft laugh. I could still feel the effects of the blood loss. My head was spinning and I could hardly had the strength to sit up for longer than a few minutes.

Dean sat the grocery bag down on the floor, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and interlocking his hands. I looked from him to Sam who watched me with concerned eyes.

I rolled my eyes, knowing all too well what was coming, “Oh we’re not doing this today.”

“What?” Sam asked defensively.

“The whole heart to heart bullshit,” I said. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“Right,” Dean said. “Because not eating, barely sleeping…that just screams stable.”

I kept my eyes on his until the image of a gun at the back of his head flashed across my vision and I tore my eyes away. I looked down at the water bottle in my hand.

“What happened?” Sam asked softly. “You thought we were dead, Ellie.”

I swallowed thickly, “It was a demon.”

Sam and Dean shared a look, “A demon?”

“She…” I paused, clenching my jaw, trying to push the picture from my memory. “She killed you. Both of you. And I…I watched her do it. I couldn’t do anything, I was so helpless.”

“It wasn’t real,” Sam reminded me.

“It felt real,” I said, holding back tears. “It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

I could tell they wanted to say something, anything, to make what I’d seen better but I knew there wasn’t. There are no words that can make something like that go away.

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FOREVER TAG LIST

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@resanoona | @bunnyandy12 | @breereadsthings | @slytherinrising | @stressedoutkitten

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waywardsuns · 6 years ago

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Masterlist

Series:

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this” series master list (completed)

Returned: part one, part two, part three (on hold)

One shots:

Kitty - Reader brings home a little furball and Dean is not happy

“I can’t do this anymore.” - Reader decides to go back to school and it becomes stressful.

Don’t Tell Anyone- platonic reader x Cas

Wings - og fem sister meets Castiel for the first time

The Perils of Dating Older Men - Jared and Jensen are particularly protective of their young cast member

The Rule - Jack x reader, all things that come with dating the son of Lucifer in secret

Requests:

Another One - Sam and Dean find out one of John’s secrets

Powers - Something happens on a hunt to the reader which worries her

“I’m fine it’s not my blood.” - Reader is followed home by a couple of creepy guys.

#SISTER WINCHESTER #winsister #sister!winchester #sister Winchester imagines #sister winchester oneshot #supernatural characters #supernatural #superwholock #crowley #castiel #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #sam and dean #john winchester #mary winchester #sister #masterlist #wayward requests #wayward masterlist

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thewinsister · 7 years ago

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MASTERLIST YAYY

Finally, an up to date master list! Some of these stories are not continued *cough* supernatural series episodes *cough* But please let me know if you want me to continue them!

click here to see the masterlist!

Series:

Supernatural:

Not Now, Not Ever pt.1

Not Now, Not Ever PT.2

Pilot PT.1

Pilot PT. 2

Silence PT.1

Silence PT. 2

Silence PT. 3

Silence PT.4

Silence PT. 5

Spider-man HOCO:

Pretty Boy PT.1

Pretty Boy PT.2

Supernatural sister!readers (non-series):

Protectors

Birthday Girl

Not Our Baby Sister Anymore

Littlest Winchester

Sleeping is Hard

Just A Tad Bit Different

I'm Not Okay

You Are Strong

RPF (Real Person Fiction):

Work

Just Acting

Spiderman HOCO/ Tom Holland (non-series):

coming soon

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oneshot-twoshot-redshot-blueshot · 7 years ago

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Pilot (Plus A Baby)

Requested

**Takes place during pilot

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Dean couldn’t help but worry. The nurses did their best to assure him that you would be fine, urged him to go get some rest. Finally, Dean relented, slipping his finger into your grip, saying goodbye and promising to return first thing in the morning.

Dean slid into the front seat of the Impala, wondering where he could go. He had half a mind to simply stay in the hospital’s parking garage.

But then he remembered where he was.

More importantly, he remembered what he was close to.

It took him a while, but he finally found the house Sam was living in, just a little bit away from campus. He tried the door; of course, it was locked. After a bit of work, he popped the lock and made his way into the kitchen. The place was nice enough from what Dean could see (in the dark). He made his way through the room, stepping into the hall.

When someone started attacking him.

Of course, Dean fought back. He recognized the fighting style and couldn’t help but grin, knowing he was once more kicking his brother’s ass. After about thirty seconds, he dropped the attacker with a loud thump. “Whoa, easy, Tiger,” he said with a grin, looking at his little brother on the floor.

“Dean?” Sam said, slightly out of breath. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice.”

Sam rolled and flipped his brother onto the floor.

“Or not,” Dean said with a slight laugh. “Get off me.”

Sam stood, helping his brother stand. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I was looking for a beer,” Dean said, thumping Sam’s shoulder with his fist.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sam asked again, this time with more emphasis. It was easy to see that he was irritated at having been woken up at this time of night only to have a knock-down, drag-out fight with his brother who he hadn’t seen in ages.

“All right, look. I need a place to crash for a bit. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as Y/N is released from the hospital.”

“Who’s Y/N?”

“Our kid sister.”

“What?” Sam stepped over and snapped the light on, staring at his brother in the yellow light. “We have a sister?”

Dean nodded once. “About a year ago, this woman found Dad and I and just… dumped a baby in Dad’s lap, saying ‘she’s your responsibility’. And about a month ago, Dad decided to go off on a hunt, leaving Y/N with me.”

“That sucks,” Sam said.

Dean shrugged. “It was fine until Y/N came down with a really high fever. I was on my way to find Dad and I just… I knew she couldn’t go any longer without proper medical care. So I took her to that hospital a few blocks away from here.”

Sam leaned against the counter. “We have a sister,” he said again, incredulously.

“She’s pretty damn cute when she’s not hooked up with wires and shit,” Dean said with a small smile. He took a breath. “So, please. Let me just crash here for a few days and then I’ll leave. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll spend all day at the hospital.”

Sam considered this. “Fine, you can crash on the couch. On one condition.”

“That I don’t kick your ass again?”

“You didn’t kick my ass,” Sam said, getting caught up in a sibling argument like no time had passed between him and his brother. He paused, collected himself. “I… want to meet Y/N. When she’s better.”

“You do?”

Sam nodded. “So you can’t just… disappear from town, okay? When she’s better, bring her here so I can see her.”

“Deal.”

Sam led his brother into the living room. “Y’know, that’s still kind of… weird.”

“What?”

“Dad had another kid this late in life. We have a sibling who’s like, twenty years younger than us.” Sam shuddered. “Gross.”

“Well, the way I see it, Dad’s a grown-ass man. He can put his dick in whatever consenting woman he wants. If he’s stupid enough to forgo protection… well, that’s his problem.”

“Except he left you with the baby.”

Dean shrugged. “I was pissed at first, but then… well, you’ll see. She has the cutest little smile.”

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A few days later, you were released from the hospital. Your fever was gone and the nurses gave Dean a bottle of medication to give you for the next few days. True to his word, Dean strapped you in your car seat and drove once more to Sam’s house.

Sam was waiting on the porch, having already gone to his morning class.

“Y/N,” Dean cooed at you. “This is your other brother, Sammy. He’s kind of a dork, but he’s still family.”

Sam wanted to yell at Dean but didn’t want to upset you. “Hi, Y/N. Don’t listen to Dean. He’s always been a liar.”

Dean scowled at him, but carefully handed you over to Sam. He felt awkward at first, holding such a tiny human, but you simply stared up at him.

“I think she’s enraptured with your hair,” Dean said. “She normally doesn’t see it that long on a guy.”

Sam glared at his brother but his attention was brought back to you when he felt you wrap your hand around one of his fingers. Peering down at you, he saw the biggest grin, a few teeth visible.

‘Damn,’ he thought. ‘Dean was right.’

Jess also fell in love with little, tiny you. She even agreed to babysit, since Dean had convinced Sam to go on a hunt with him.

When the boys returned, Sam held you and the two of you watched as Dean packed up your things. He certainly was going to miss you (and his brother, if he was being honest). He followed Dean back out to the Impala, watching as he loaded things in the car.

“All right, say ‘bye-bye’ to Sammy,” Dean said, closing the trunk.

You babbled slightly, smiling up at Sam. Part of him wanted to keep you here. After all, the hunter’s life was no life for a baby (he would know). But then again, what could two busy college students do with a baby? And he was working on law school…

Sam pressed a small kiss to your head before handing you off to Dean. “Bye, Y/N.”

Dean buckled you into the car seat before turning to his brother. “Well… good luck with law school and all that.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Sam shifted on his feet. “Um… listen, I’d… if you ever need any help with her…”

Dean smiled. “We’ll be in touch.” He gave his brother a hug, clapping him on the back. “Later, Sammy.”

‘Later’ turned out to be less than an hour. Dean pulled Sam from the burning skeleton of his house while you sat in the backseat, nearly dozing off.

“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Dean said as the brothers slid into the front seat.

“Wh-where are we going?” Sam asked as his brother started the car.

“Uncle Bobby’s.”

“Bobby’s?”

“Yeah, he may have an idea on where to look for Dad. Plus… his place will be better for Y/N. Hopefully, he can watch her for a bit.”

“I’m sure he will,” Sam said. “After all… she has the cutest little smile.”

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural oneshot #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #dean oneshot #sam oneshot #dean x reader #sam x reader #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn oneshot #request #3fangurls #winsister #baby!reader #pilot-era fic

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wayward-marvel-sommer1196 · 5 years ago

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I’m desperate Please help if you can

So like I never do this because I am way too prideful to ask for help but I am desperate. My truck broke down and cost me $1000 to fix and it has problems again. I have credit card debt up to my eyeballs and my rent is due in a week and a half. All that along with the holidays around the corner and my boyfriend just starting a new job I’m struggling. Which I was okay with until claimed scum of the earth decided to take it upon them selves to break into my car last night and steal what rent money I had set aside. I know it was stupid to leave it in the car but honestly I wasn’t thinking. I work 45+ hour weeks and have almost no down time. I am not lazy by any means and I hate asking for help but I am at an all time low and am desperate so yes, I am asking strangers for my because I have no other options. My mom is struggling herself so I can’t ask her and my dad has my two fully grown sisters in his house that he is helping take care of along with their kids so I can’t ask him. I’m at a point where I’m ready to call a quits so any help is welcomed and very much appreciated truly. Thank you so much ahead of time.

I know I missed a lot of people on here but reboot to spread the word please I am all out options and every little bit helps

https://www.paypal.me/sommer1196

@queen-of-deans-booty @queentoffee @winchester-writes @writingbarnes @wakandasoldier @winchesters-favorite-girl @emilyevanston @ellen-reincarnated1967 @ravengirl94 @reigningqueenofwords @teamfreewill-imagine @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @uncomfortable-writers @until-theend-oftheline @imaginesofeveryfandom @imaginemarveluniverse @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @impala-dreamer @oneshots-imagines-and-that @percywinchester27 @percussiongirl2017 @peachwizard @angelkurenai @avengersimaginings @avengersxyou @sincerelysaraahh @supernatural-jackles @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @dancingalone21 @daughters-and-winsisters @d-s-winchester @fvckingavengers @fanficmarvelchick @fangirlfanwritings @fictionalabyss @findyourhappyplaces @gone-to-fight-the-fairies @geography-the-jack-of-all-trades @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @blacktithe7 @jayankles @jalove-wecallhimdean @kittenofdoomage @kasimagines @katymacsupernatural @kas-not-cas @kdfrqqg @luci-in-trenchcoats @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

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elliewithcellie · 5 years ago

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hey i have a lil request for a oneshot if you're still taking them :) teen winsister is highkey claustrophobic but doesn't wanna look like a wimp infront of her big bros so she keeps it a secret until she has to crawl through a small space during a hunt since she's the only one that'd fit. obviously it doesn't go very well. maybe a tiny bit of angst & mostly fluff please! thanks

Hi! I’m sorry I took so long to respond! Yes I will totally do this! I love the idea! I have a couple requests ahead of you but I’ll tag you when it’s out ok? Thank you so much!!

-Ellie :)

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jensen-jarpad · 8 years ago

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HEY GUYS!!! Do you wanna come celebrate with me? Then read more about this challenge

Why is this a BIG CELEBRATION?

May 29 - A year ago I posted my first fanfiction, so it’s kinda of an anniversary!

I hit 2000 Followers, which is way more than I expected after just a year of doing this.

July 3rd - My birthday!!!

To celebrate all of this I decided to host a writing challenge. What about? Celebrations. I want you to write people celebrating. It can be a birthday, a wedding, a baby, a hunt. Whatever you want! You guys have till June 5th to send me an ask to tell me you're joining the challenge!

Here are the rules:

You don’t need to be following me, but I’ll appreciate it!

Send me an ASK to enter the challenge.

It must be reader insert and this challenge is for Supernatural fanfic only (yes, actors included).

It can be a drabble or a huge one shot, I just ask you to use a “continue reading” button in case it has over 500 words.

Please, don’t make it a part of an ongoing series.

Tag me and use #BecasBigCelebration within your first 3 tags.

If I haven’t liked it within 48 hours, send me a message!

Due date is July 3rd, my birthday!

Let’s Celebrate!!!

I’ll be posting the masterlist of this challenge on July 5th. All fics will be rebloged. This fics won’t be included in my Appreciation post.

If you don’t want to join the challenge that’s okay, but can you reblog it so other people can see it? Thanks

Tags: @not-moose-one-shots ; @impalaimagining ; @iwantthedean ; @riversong-sam ; @27bmm ; @super100012 ; @spontaneousam ; @notnaturalanahi ; @mogaruke ; @imagining-supernatural ; @mrswhozeewhatsis ; @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki ; @purgatoan ; @teamfreewill-imagine ; @growningupgeek ; @wonderange ; @youre-my-grxvity ; @1amluke ; @deathtonormalcy56 ; @atc74 ; @bea789 ; @mamapeterson ; @leenasleena-blog ; @percussiongirl2017 ; @fabulouslycassie ; @kickasscas67 ; @sam-w ; @malisreadytopartayy ; @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 ; @jayankles ; @brihughes4 ; @supernatural-jackles ; @quiddy-writes ; @waywardjoy ; @spn-fan-girl-173 ; @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ; @crowleys-niece ; @akshi8278 ; @salvachester ; @nothin-after-79 ; @beyond-constants ; @winchesters-favorite-girl ; @beckawinchester ; @bringmesomepie56 ; @jotink78 ; @iavengesuperwholock ; @supernaturallymarvellous ; @deansleather ; @sleepywinchester ; @straightasdeanwinchester ; @queen-of-deans-booty ; @ravenangel33 ; @highonpastries ; @wayward-oneshots ; @sis-tafics ; @emilywritesaboutdean ; @mrsbatesmotel53 ; @sassy-losechester ; @samwinlover ; @iwriteaboutdean ; @torn-and-frayed ; @nichelle-my-belle ; @fangirlingfanatic2442 ; @emptywithout ; @dreamingintheimpalawithdean ; @dancingalone21 ; @spnsisimagines ; @daughters-and-winsisters ; @spn67-sister ; @beyond-constants ; @musical-potterheads

#becasbigcelebration #celebration #follow #followers #tumblr milestone #follower milestone #2k milestone #supernatural #spn #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #spnfanficpond #birthday #birthday celebration #challenge #writing challenge

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

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Hunted

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: After Dean tells Sam what their father told him before he died, Sam sneaks off to Indiana alone.

Disclaimers: ANGST, fluff, graphic injury, blood, very minor mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 9.1K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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My heart sank as Dean continued to talk. It took nearly everything in me not to chuck the beer bottle at his head, to not let Sam in on what dad had told Dean he’d have to do. However, as I looked over at Sammy, so confused and needing to know the truth, I let Dean go on, my fists clenching.

“He said that he wanted me to watch out for you,” Dean began, nodding slowly as he averted his gaze. “To take care of you.”

Sam was becoming increasingly anxious; I could tell by the way his body was stiffened. Sam shook his head, not understanding, “He told you that a million times.”

“No, this time was different. He said that- that I had to save you.”

His anxiousness now became confusion and a little bit of fear, “Save me from what?”

Dean took his lip between his teeth, “He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd…”

“You'd what, Dean?” Sam asked before looking over to me. “What’s he talking about, El?”

I opened my mouth, not sure what even to say when Dean beat me to the punchline, “That I'd have to kill you…he said that I might have to kill you, Sammy.”

I felt sick at the words being said out loud. Sam recoiled as if he’d been slapped. He furrowed his eyebrows, shock and confusion covering his face, “Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“We don't know,” I said this time. I wish to god we knew what dad meant.

“I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go darkside or something?!” Sam shouted. “What else did he say, Dean?”

Dean looked more defeated than ever, “Nothing, that's it, I swear.”

“You knew too, huh?” Sam scoffed, now looking at me. I kept my mouth shut, kicking myself for thinking we could keep this a secret for so long. “How could you not have told me this!?”

“Because it was dad, and he begged me not to,” Dean said, almost in a whisper.

“Who cares!” Sam yelled at him. “Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You guys had no right to keep this from me!”

“You think I wanted this? Huh?” Dean shot back, matching Sam’s tone, standing up a little straighter. “I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!”

Sam scoffed again, the two of them turning away from each other. I felt like the tether in the middle, my head bouncing between the two of them, “We've just got to figure out what's going on…what the hell all this means.”

“We do?” Dean asked before turning back toward Sam and me. “I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for a while. It'd be safer. And that way I can make sure —”

“What?” Sam laughed humorlessly. “That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?”

Dean shook his head in protest, “I never said that.”

“Jeez, if you're not careful you will have to waste me one day, Dean.”

“Sam, stop!” I shouted at him.

“I never said that!” Dean shouted at the same time. “Dammit, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control, alright? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?”

Sam clenched his jaw, taking a long drink from his beer, “Forget it.”

Dean shook his head, his hands dropping to his sides before bringing them into his hair as he turned away again. I let out a short breath, closing my eyes before looking up to Sam who wouldn’t meet my gaze, “Sam, please…just give him some time. Give him some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please.” Sam looked at me now and I could see the hurt that was evident in his face. Guilt twisted in my gut like a knife, but we couldn’t let this tear us apart like so many bad things had a habit of doing. “Please.”

I couldn’t stand the way he could hardly look at me. Sam looked down at the empty bottle in his hands before silently retreating back to the car.

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Sam’s POV

It wasn’t hard to slip out of bed unnoticed. Ellie slept like a rock. The real issue would be getting past Dean, who, in all the years I slept in the same room as him, would always wake up to the smallest sounds. One creak in the floorboards and he’d have his gun on me in an instant. However, with that knowledge, I’d mastered the art of sneaking out. I grabbed my duffle from under the motel bed. I hadn’t even unpacked it from when we got here.

The last thing I grabbed was a wire hanger from the motel closet. I unwrapped the wire as I walked toward the door, sparing a final glance toward Dean and Ellie who hadn’t so much as moved.

I didn’t think twice about it as I pulled the motel door open, slowly closing it behind me. I adjusted the duffle on my shoulder, continuing to unwrap the coiled wire, leaving a small loop at the end. I stalked toward the parking lot, eyeing the car that was parked next to the Impala.

I glanced around the parking lot, up at the motel rooms encircling me. When I figured the coast was clear, I shoved the wire down into the slit between the glass and the doorframe, successfully popping the car’s lock. I slid inside, hotwired the car, and hauled ass away from the motel.

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Ellie’s POV

I knew something was wrong when I woke up and it wasn’t the crack of dawn. I rolled over on the bed, taking in the sunlight that poured in through the curtains. The digital clock on the bedside table blinked at me, just past eight in the morning. I slowly sat up, looking over to where Sam would usually be nudging Dean and I awake, but his side of the bed was empty.

I threw the covers to the side, glancing into the bathroom, my heart sinking when I saw it was empty. I crossed the room to the window, parting the blinds, my heart racing even faster when I saw that the car was still in the lot.

I nearly ran towards Dean’s bed, shaking his shoulders, not even flinching when he whipped his gun at me, his eyes wide, “Jesus, El, don’t do that.”

I crouched down on the floor, checking for his duffle that was gone, too, “Dean, Sam’s not here.”

“Whatta mean?” He asked, his face buried again in his pillow.

“I mean he’s not here, Dean!” I nearly shouted.

Dean picked his head up, glancing around the room before he sat up, swinging his legs off the bed, “Listen he probably just went out-”

“The car’s still here,” I said, inspecting the room for anything that could let us in on where Sam could’ve taken off to, or worse, if something had happened to him.

“Jesus, Sam,” Dean whispered, letting his head hang momentarily before bringing it up, running a hand down his face. “Alright, alright…you try calling him, okay? If that doesn’t work, call Ellen, Bobby, anyone that might’ve heard from him. I’m gonna try to track his phone.”

I nodded instantly, grabbing my phone from the bedside table, dialing every number I knew.

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Sam’s POV

The Roadhouse was never as busy as it was today. I came in through the side, nodding politely at the hunters who turned to watch me walk in. I averted my gaze, feeling their lingering stares as I made my way to the bar where Ellen was cleaning a glass.

She looked up at me, smiling softly, “Sam.”

“Hey, Ellen,” I said, sitting at one of the bar stools. “You don't seem that surprised to see me.”

“Well, your sister’s been calling, worried sick, looking for you.”

I felt a twinge of guilt as I nodded, “Yeah. Figured she might.”

She squinted setting the glass down and rested a hand on the bar top, “What's going on between you three?”

I quickly dodged the question, not wanting to open that load on someone else if I didn’t have to, “So, um, how's Jo?”

Ellen shook her head, an unamused smile playing at her lips, “Well, I don't really know.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven't seen her in weeks. She sends a postcard now and again.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Well, after she worked that job with you kids, she decided she wanted to keep on hunting. I said, ‘not under my roof’, and she said ‘fine’.”

I let out breath, even more guilt washing over me, “So I'm probably the last person you want to see right now.”

“Oh, don't get me wrong. I wish I could blame the hell out of you three. It'd be easier. Truth is, it's not your fault,” she said. I tore my eyes away from hers. I knew better, she had every right to blame us. “Sam.” I looked back up to her. “None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill. I just don't think he ever forgave himself.”

I clenched my jaw, nodding hesitantly, “What did happen?”

This time, it was Ellen who was dodging the questions, “So, why did you come here, sweetie?”

I looked around the bar, still feeling the stares of a few hunters. I leaned closer, lowering my voice, “I need help.”

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“What am I looking for, Sam?” Ash asked.

“Other people, other psychics, like me,” I said. Ash nodded slowly, his fingers dancing over his chin, deep in thought. “As many as possible, and I need a nationwide search.”

“But I thought there was no way to track them all down,” Ellen reminded me. “Not all of them had nursery fires like you did.”

I nodded. It was one of the biggest hurdles we’d have to get over in order to find the rest of them. I knew we weren’t going to find them all with this, but it was a start. “Well, no, but some had to. Start there.”

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“Done and done,” Ash said as he came from the back room, bursting through the swinging half doors.

I set my glass of beer down, turning to him, eyebrows raised, “That was fast.”

“Well, apparently, that's my job,” he said, falling into the bar stool next to me. “Make the monkey dance at the keyboard.”

Ellen rolled her eyes, “Just tell us what you got, Ash.”

Ash unfolded a piece of crumpled paper, “Four folks fit the profile nationwide. Born in '83, mother died in a nursery fire, the whole shebang.”

I cocked an eyebrow, “Four? That's it?”

He nodded, reading from the paper, “Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma…” Ash paused, staring as a woman passed by before snapping out of it, his eyes flicking back down to the paper. “And uh, another name. Scott Carey.”

Ash threw the paper onto the bar top. I grabbed it quickly, looking at the last name on the list, “You got an address?”

Ash shrugged, “Kind of. The Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot four-eighty-six.”

“So, he's dead?”

“Killed,” Ash clarified. “About a month ago.”

I sighed, “Killed how?”

“Stabbed. Parking lot. Fuzz don't have much, no suspects.”

I took one last drink from the beer before standing, “Alright. Thank you.”

Ash slapped me on the back before taking the rest of my beer and polished it off. Ellen leaned against the counter, stopping me before I could get to the door, “Where are you going?”

I looked down at the paper in my hand, “Indiana.”

“Sam, I've gotta call your brother and sister, I've gotta let him know where you are.”

“Ellen. I'm trying to find answers, about who I am. And Dean and Ellie mean well, but they can't protect me from that. Please,” I begged. Ellen looked like she was weighing her options before finally nodding. I smiled softly as I waved one last time, leaving the Roadhouse.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Finding Scott Carey’s family was more difficult than I thought it’d be, to say the least. It took having to go to the library to dig up some old records about a housefire before I could find the right one.

Michael Carey, Scott’s father, watched me with sad eyes as he spoke about his son. I glanced around his large house that he looked suddenly very small in.

“So, you said you went to high school with Scott?” Michael asked.

I nodded, clasping my hands together. I couldn’t exactly pose as an officer investigating Scott’s death, I’d left all my badges in the Impala. “Uh, yes sir, I did. I just heard about what happened, I'm so sorry.”

Michael didn’t seem to question me as he nodded, “Scotty was a good boy. He changed a lot since you knew him.”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his hands running over the material of his robe over his pajamas, “It started about a year ago with these headaches. And then he got depressed, paranoid, nightmares.”

“Nightmares?” I questioned, trying to seem as nonchalant about it as I could. “Um, did he ever talk to you about his nightmares? What he saw, or…”

“No, no,” Michael shook his head. “He closed up with me. I tried to get him help, but nothing took. He'd just lock himself in his room for days.”

I nodded slowly, “You think maybe I could see his room?”

Michael looked over to me before nodding, “Sure. Sure, you can.”

I followed Michael up the stairs to his son’s room, stepping inside. I gave Michael a soft smile as he shut the door behind me. I listened closely for his footsteps, waiting until he was downstairs until I started going through Scott’s room.

There was pretty much everything in there except for what I was looking for even though I didn’t even really know what I was looking for in the first place. Books and magazines cluttered his shelves, cassette tapes and old records were piled high on his desk, taking up every inch of surface. His clothes were strewn every which way. I leaned forward over his bedside table, glancing over my shoulder to ensure I really was alone.

Four pill bottles were lined up on his table. I picked one up, glancing at the name of the doctor: George Wexler. I slid the bottle into my pocket before rounding the bed and stood in front of the closet. I pulled the doors apart, clicking the overhead light on. Something yellow on the back wall caught my attention, making me part his clothing.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when I pushed the clothes away, but it definitely wasn’t this. I felt sick to my stomach, frozen in place as I stared at the back wall of Scott Carey’s closet. I tightened my grip I still had on Scott’s clothes, staring at the dozens of cut out images of yellow eyes staring back at me.

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It was dark by the time I made it back to the motel. I slid from the car, stretching my limbs after being crouched over under its short roof. I pulled the motel key from my pocket, getting ready to unlock the door when a soft rustling sound came from behind me.

I stopped, the key hovering over the lock when I whipped around, forcing the person behind me up against the motel wall, “Who are you?”

It was a woman, her eyes wide as she held her hands up nonthreateningly, “Please! You're in danger.”

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I leaned up against the dresser in the motel room as the woman talked frantically, “Okay, look, I know how all this sounds, but I am not insane, and I am not on drugs. Okay? I am normal, and this is way, way off the map for me.”

“All right, all right, just, just calm down. Okay?” I said, stopping her rambling even though it was slightly amusing. “What's your name?”

She let out a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down, ��Ava Wilson.”

“Ava, I'm Sam Winchester, alright?” I said calmly. Ava nodded slowly, taking another deep breath. “Now, you were telling me about these dreams of yours?”

She nodded again, seeming calmer than she was before, “Uh, yeah, okay, about a year ago I started having these, like, headaches, and just, nightmares, I guess. And I really didn't think much of it until I had this one dream where I saw this guy get stabbed in a parking lot.”

I pushed away from where I was leaning against the dresser, “When was this?”

“Uh, about a month ago. But, anyway, a couple of days later, I found this.” She dug around in her purse before pulling out a folded newspaper headline, handing it to me: Local Man Stabbed to Death in Parking Lot. The headline was complete with a black and white picture of Scott Carey. “I saw this guy die, days before it happened. I don't know why, I don't know, it's just for some reason, my dreams are coming true. And last night I had another one…about you. I saw you die.”

I handed the newspaper back to her, “How did you find me?”

She motioned to the pad of paper sitting on the bedside table, “Oh, uh, you had motel stationery, and I Googled the motel, and it was real, and so I just thought that I should warn you.”

I scoffed in disbelief, “I don't believe this.”

Ava scoffed too, shaking her head in disbelief, “Oh, oh, of course you don't. You think I'm a total nutjob!”

“Wait, no, no, no, I mean, you must be one of us.”

“Sorry, one of, one of who?” She raised her eyebrows.

“One of the Psychics. Like me,” I said. Ava’s eyes widened even more. “Look, Ava, I have visions too, all right? So…so, we're connected.”

She laughed, sounding slightly terrified, “Okay, so, you're nuts. That's great.”

“Okay, okay, look,” I began, starting from the beginning. “Did your mother happen to die in a house fire?”

“No, my mother lives in Palm Beach!”

I squinted at her, “So you don't fit the pattern either.”

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Ellie’s POV

Dean and I drove, what seemed like aimlessly, for miles. We had no leads on Sam, for all we knew we could be driving in the complete opposite direction of where he was. However, I knew Dean might go crazy if he wasn’t doing something that at least seemed productive.

My heart leapt when my phone rang. I quickly picked it up, putting it on speaker, “Hello?”

“It's Ellen,” she said from the other line.

I glanced at Dean, “Hey, have you heard from Sam?”

“I have,” she said. I dropped my head back onto the seat in relief. “But he made me promise not to tell you where he is.”

Dean shook his head, taking the phone from my hand, “Come on, Ellen, please. Something bad could be going on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid.”

“Now Dean, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever,” she said, making Dean clench his jaw. “Well, I say screw that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana.”

“Thanks, Ellen,” I said before ending the call, feeling the car speed forward faster.

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Sam’s POV

“So if you're so psychic, then why didn't you see your own death?” Ava asked as she paced the room.

I shook my head, it was a good question, one I really didn’t have an answer for, “I don't know. I've never really had premonitions about myself before.”

She shook her head, finally sitting down on the end of the bed, “This is crazy.”

“Hey, you tracked me down because you saw me die in a dream. I'd say we're miles past crazy,” I said, making her nod. A beat passed before I spoke again. “So, I die in an abandoned house?”

“Yeah. Some kind of a bomb or something,” she said, wringing her hands in her lap.

“What'd my killer look like?”

She shook her head, “I don't know.”

“Well, was it human?”

“What the hell else would it be?” She asked before putting a hand out, momentarily closing her eyes. “No. Actually, you know what? Don't answer that. I don't wanna know…Look, can you just leave town? Please? Before you blow up?”

“No, I can't.”

Ava rolled her head back, exasperated, “Oh, god. Why not?”

“Because there's something going on here, Ava. With you, with me. I mean, there are others like us out there. And we're all a part of something, and I've got to figure out what.”

“Okay. you know what? Screw you, buddy. Okay? Because I'm a secretary from Peoria and I'm not part of anything! Okay?” She stood from the bed as she began to fervently talk with her hands, her words going a million miles an hour. She held up her left hand, showing her engagement ring, “Do you see this? I am getting married in eight weeks. I am supposed to be at home addressing invitations, which I am way behind on, by the way. But instead, I drove out here to save your weirdo ass. But if you just want to stay here and die, fine. Me? I'm due back on Planet Earth.” Ava snatched her bag as she turned toward the door, but I knew I couldn’t let her out of this that easily.

“Don't you want to know why this is happening? I mean, don't these visions scare the hell out of you?” I asked, making her pause. “Because if you walk out that door right now you might never know the truth.” I watched as she hesitated before turning around, clutching her bag close to her chest. “I need your help.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ava’s POV

Jesus Christ how did I get myself into this.

I shifted on the leather couch, the material squeaking under me. I tried to focus on anything but the therapist sitting across from me, his large eyes watching me carefully. He was the therapist that Sam said we needed to get information from about Scott Carey.

“So, Ms. Wilson, you're new in town,” Dr. Wexler began.

I nodded nervously, clutching my bag that sat over my lap. I swallowed past my throat that seemed to be tightening. I wiped away at the sweat that was beginning to form at my hairline when I realized Dr. Wexler had asked me a question, “That's right.”

He nodded patiently, “And what made you decide to seek out therapy?”

“I have no idea,” I blurted out.

“No?”

“No,” I said, before shaking my head. “I mean, I'm feeling really super anxious right now.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“Um…” I glanced around the room when I spotted Sam, shuffling across the windowsill from seven stories up. My eyes widened, “Holy crap!”

“What?” Dr. Wexler asked, turning in his seat, but by the time he looked back, Sam was already behind the solid wall.

I stumbled, desperate for the doctor to turn his attention back to me, “I- I just remembered, when I was a kid, I swallowed like, eight things of pop rocks and then drank a whole can of coke, you don't think that that counts as a suicide attempt, do you?”

Dr. Wexler wrinkled his eyebrows, opening and closing his mouth before deciding to quickly jot something down.

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Sam’s POV

I threw Scott Carey’s files down onto the motel table once we got back. I leaned over them, noticing the way Ava was beginning to pace the short length of the motel room once again. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” She asked, sounding breathless. “I just helped you steal some dead guy's confidential psych files…I'm awesome!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Dean rolled the car to a stop in the parking lot of a motel just off the interstate. We peered through the room window directly next to us. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Sam coming into view, “Oh, thank god he’s okay.”

Sam walked from the view of the window to reveal a woman inside, too. Dean smirked, “Oh, he’s better than okay. Sam, you sly dog.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

Ava and I listened closely to the tape recorder that sat between us. Dr. Wexler’s voice filtered through, followed by Scott Carey’s.

What else does the yellow-eyed man say?

He has plans for me. He says there's a war coming. That people like me, we're going to be the soldiers. Everything's about to change.

“He's not talking about us, right?” Ava asked as she anxiously circled her engagement ring around her finger.

I paused the tape as I stood, rounding the table, “Yeah, I think he is.”

“But how can we turn into…” she paused, waving her hand toward the tape, “that?”

“I don't-” My thought was cut off as the motel window shattered, followed by the glass that was just over my head. I quickly ducted to the floor, pulling Ava down with me. “Get down!”

“Oh my god! What's happening!?” She shouted as more and more gunshots rang throughout the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Dean and I raced across the roof, spotting the gunman laying on his stomach, his finger dancing over the trigger. Dean got to him first, running ahead of me as his anger burst at the sight of who it was, “Gordon!”

Gordon only had a split second to turn to see us before Dean’s boot collided with his face, sending him flying to his side. Dean quickly straddled his chest, landing blow after blow across his face. “You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!”

“Dean, wait-” Gordon tried, but his fists were already raining down over him again. I panted, eyeing the motel room, sighing in relief when Sam stood from the ground. For the split second I was distracted, Gordon had brought the rifle up from where he dropped it, using the butt of it to jam into Dean’s head, making him drop to the ground, unconscious.

I reached for my own gun as Gordon was watching Dean, but he sensed me before I could even gun him down. He whipped around, trained the gun on me and pulled the trigger.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

Once it seemed as if whoever had been shooting at us was long gone, Ava and I climbed to the roof of the building just across the street, a perfect aim straight to our motel window.

“Wait, I don't understand. Shouldn't we be talking to the cops?” Ava asked as we made it to the roof.

“Trust me, that wouldn't do us much good,” I said, searching the ground around us when a shell caught my eye. I crouched down, picking one up. I raised my eyebrows, looking up at Ava. “These are .223 caliber. Subsonic rounds. The guy must have put a suppressor on the rifle.”

Ava watched me, “Dude, who are you?”

I stood, dropping the shell encasing, “Oh. I just, uh, I just watch a lot of TJ Hooker.”

I continued glancing around the area when I spotted an unmistakable pool of blood. I wrinkled my eyebrows, noticing the trail that led from the puddle and then left droplets all the way to the stairs, down from the roof. I pulled my phone from my pocket, dialing Dean’s number, “He wasn’t alone up here.”

“Who are you calling?” She asked.

“My brother,” I said, putting everything else between us aside. “I think we definitely need help.”

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Ellie’s POV

My head was pounding when I woke up, my ears were plugged, everything was muffled like I was underwater. I slowly dragged my head up, desperately trying to adjust my eyes in the dimly lit room.

“El? Hey, El, it’s alright,” Dean said next to me. I looked over to him, a clear image finally coming into view. He was bound to a chair, his face worried as he watched me.

“Dean…where are we?” I asked, feeling a white hot pain blossoming from the lower left side of my abdomen. I glanced down, noticing my bloodied shirt and the blood that was slowly dripping from the wound. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“Focus on me, El, alright, you’re just fine,” Dean tried to reassure when a voice cut him off.

“I don’t know, Dean,” the voice said. I dragged my eyes to the other side of the room where Gordon was standing in the doorway, rifle in hand. “Looks pretty serious to me.”

“Don’t listen to him, alright?” Dean said, making me look back over to him. I could feel every rivulet of blood that dripped from the wound, suddenly being able to feel the bullet that was still lodged inside me. “We’re gonna get you out of here and we’ll stitch you up, right? I’ll take care of you.”

“It hurts, Dean,” I whispered. This wasn’t the first time I’d been shot, definitely not, but for some reason, this one felt more serious than some of the others.

“I know, I know.”

The sound of Dean’s phone ringing filled the room, coming from Gordon’s pocket. We watched as he looked down at the caller I.D., smirking before coming toward Dean, “It’s Sammy. Why don’t you mention to him where you’re at, have him come meet you here. Or I’ll make sure neither of you come out this alive. Clear?”

Dean grimaced, his jaw clenching as Gordon flipped the phone open, holding it out in front of Dean, “Hello?”

“Dean!” Sam said, sound slightly relieved.

“Sam, I've been looking for you.”

“Yeah. Look, I'm in Indiana, uh Lafayette.”

“I know.”

Sam paused for a second, “You do?”

“Yeah, I talked to Ellen. Ellie and I just got here ourselves. It's a real funky town,” he said, letting a beat pass between them. “You ditched us, Sammy.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, right now there's someone after me.”

Dean’s eyes flitted up to Gordon, feigning confusion, “What? Who?”

“I don't know, that's what we need to find out. Where are you?”

“We’re staying at, uh, 5637 Monroe St. Why don't you meet us here?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Gordon shut the phone, “Now, was that so hard?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, “Bite me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

I ended the call, shutting my phone as I looked down at it before pulling a pad of paper and a pen from my pocket, quickly jotting down the address Dean had given me. An uneasy feeling sunk into my stomach as I did.

“What is it?” Ava asked, glancing at the address.

“My brother and sister, they’re in trouble.”

“What?”

“He gave me a codeword,” I said, pocketing the notepad. “Someone's got a gun on him.”

Ava’s eyes widened slightly, “Codeword?”

“Yeah. Funkytown,” I said, shifting on my feet. Ava watched me in confusion. “Well, he- he thought of it. It's kind of a…long story. I…come on.”

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Ellie’s POV

“So Gordy. I know me, Ellie and Sam ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?” Dean asked.

Gordon had his back to us, rifling through numerous weapons he had laid out in front of him, “What, you think this is revenge?”

“Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days. Which was awesome,” Dean laughed before stopping himself, a smile still playing at his lips. “Sorry, I shouldn't laugh.”

“Yeah. I was definitely planning on whuppin' your ass for that,” he said as he turned around. He had a handgun balancing in his palm now. “But that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter. And your brother's fair game.” My eyes widened slightly as he pushed a magazine into the gun.

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Sam’s POV

“I don't think I should leave,” Ava said as I lead her back to her car.

“I want you out of harm's way, Ava.” I knew whatever was going to happen wasn’t going to turn out pretty, especially if Ava’s dream is supposed to come true. Too many of these psychics - or whatever we are - have been dying. I’d be damned if I let Ava die, too.

“What about you?”

“Harm's way doesn't really bother me.”

Ava turned on her heels once we made it to the car. She shook her head, “No, but you are walking right into my vision. I mean, this is how you die.”

I shook my head, already having made up my mind, “Doesn't matter. It's my brother and sister.”

“Maybe I could help!” She offered.

“You've done all you can. Just, just go back to your fiancé.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure,” I said, pulling open the driver’s side door. “Go home, Ava. You'll be safe there.”

She slid into the car, looking up at me through the open window, “Well, just, promise me you'll call, then. I mean, when you get your brother and sister, just to let me know that everything's all right.”

I nodded, “I promise.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something. About a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. Piqued my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, if you got the right tools,” Gordon rambled on about why he was out for Sam. I closed my eyes, wanting to rather endure the pain of my gunshot wound than hear him speak for another minute.

“And what happened to the girl it was possessing?” I breathed out, playing right in to Gordon’s ego.

“She didn't make it.” He was so matter-of-fact about it, no emotion behind his words.

Dean squinted at him, “Well, you're a son of a bitch.”

Gordon stood from where he was sitting on a chair. He crossed the room, punching the side of Dean’s face, “That's my momma you're talking about.” He stepped away from Dean who rotated his jaw. Gordon still wielded the rifle as he continued to drone on.

“Anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race? But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, “Oh, this is...this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you.”

“Yeah?” Gordon smiled, looking down at his gun. “Come on, Dean. I know about Sam's visions. I know everything.”

“Really?” I said, the words coming out softer than I meant for them to. I tried to ignore the pull of the wound with every word I spoke. “Because a demon told you? Yeah, and it wasn't lying.” Sarcasm dripped from my words.

“Hey, Ellie. I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine,” he said. Something in Dean’s face shifted. “It's how I found Sammy in the first place. About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them.”

“Yeah, did he kill anyone?”

Gordon sat back down in his chair, “Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him, “You think Sam's stupid enough to walk through that front door?”

“No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him,” he said before letting out a dry laugh. “You really think I'm that stupid? No. Sammy's going to scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he's going to take the back.” He stood, picking up something about the size of his hand from among his weapons. “And when he does, he'll hit the tripwire. Then -- boom.”

I could tell now that Gordon was holding a grenade. My heart sunk, but I shook my head at Gordon, knowing better, “Sam's not gonna fall for a friggin' tripwire.”

“Maybe you're right,” Gordon nodded as he picked up another grenade. “That's why I'll have a second one.” Dean stared Gordon down, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. “Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But for what it's worth, it'll be quick.”

“Come on, man. I know Sam, okay, better than anyone!” Dean said. “He's got more of a conscience than I do, I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the internet for porn.”

“Maybe you're right,” Gordon nodded, straddling a chair between Dean and me. “But one day he's going to be a monster.”

I shook my head, “How? Huh? How's someone like Sam become a monster?”

Gordon shrugged, “Beats me. But he will.”

“No, you don't know that!” Dean shouted at him.

“I'm surprised at you two. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more professional than this,” he said, making Dean tear his eyes away from him, shaking his head. “Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?”

Dean grimaced at him, “That's not Sam.”

“Yes, it is,” Gordon countered, grabbing Dean’s shoulder. “You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you. But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is?”

If looks could kill, Gordon would be on his death bed. Dean watched him as he stood from the chair but Gordon only shook his head in disapproval.

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It was getting dark now. I could tell by the way the sun’s rays were replaced with moonlight filtering from between the slats of the decomposing house we were in. I could tell by the way my limbs started to feel heavier and heavier just how much time had passed.

Gordon was behind us, setting up the trip wire. Dean didn’t take his eyes off of me, “Hey, you still with me?”

I was starting to get dizzy, having a hard time keeping my head up on my shoulders, “I’m losin’ a lot…a lot of blood, Dean.”

“Just a little bit longer, okay?” He said, but I knew I didn’t have a little bit longer and he knew it, too.

“I don’t have time, he- he needs to take it out,” I shifted uncomfortably, taking a chapped lip between my teeth to keep from groaning in pain. “The bullet, he needs to take it out.”

He looked confused at me before looking to Gordon. Dean shook his head instantly, “I’m not letting him anywhere near you-”

“Dean,” I said, panting now. “He’s not gonna let you do it. It has to be him.”

Dean gritted his teeth, twisting toward where Gordon was crouched on the ground behind us, “Hey, Gordon, could you…” he paused, shaking his head in disgust. “Could you patch her up? Please, she- she’s bleeding out, man.”

“And why should I do that?” He asked.

Dean clenched his jaw again. I could see in his face that he hated asking Gordon for anything, let alone practically beg for help, “She’s not the one you want dead, right? You don’t want her blood on your hands.”

Gordon righted an upturned chair, not looking at us, “This is war. War has casualties.”

“You had a sister, didn’t you?” Dean finally asked. Gordon paused and Dean nodded, knowing he struck a deep chord. “You said you would’ve done anything for her. Please, man, I’m begging you.”

Gordon stayed still for a minute longer before he dusted his hands off on his shirt, returning to his bag before pulling out a first aid kit. I didn’t dare take my eyes off of him, even as he stood in front of me before crouching at my knees.

Gordon reached a hand out toward the wound and I instinctively flinched as he reached out toward my shirt, his eyes darting to mine before pulling the material up and away. He chuckled darkly as he grabbed a pair of tweezers from the kit, running his lighter over the ends.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

Gordon paused, dropping the lighter back into the box, “I know trauma when I see it, Ellie. You’re all lit up with it.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows as he leaned forward, using the tweezers to pull the bullet from the wound. My body tensed as I held in a scream, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing my pain. I let my head loll backwards as I panted. He dug some more, my fingers curling around the arms of the chair. I faintly heard Dean yelling something at Gordon, but I could hardly hear him over my heart pounding in my ears. It felt like years before he dug it out, holding up the long bullet, coated in blood.

I let my chin rest forward on my chest, panting in relief that the worst of it was over. He picked up a few pieces of gauze, securing them against the wound.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

I held out the paper with the address Dean had given me, staring at the run-down house. I glanced around the property, noticing a familiar car parked out front.

I stalked toward the building, keeping low as I glanced through one of the front windows, cursing myself when I saw Dean and Ellie tied up with Gordon keeping watch.

I knew I couldn’t go through the front door. I ran around the house, toward the back until I’d finally found a side door. I tried the doorknob, locked. I glanced over my shoulders before pulling my lockpick from my pocket.

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Ellie’s POV

The sound of the doorknob rattling quietly made the three of us turn toward the back of the house. The rattling was followed by the tiniest click of a deadbolt.

Gordon stood, grabbing two bandanas as he tightly secured them over Dean and I’s mouths, “Ya hear him? Here he comes.”

We waited, my heart pounding, feeling the gauze on my stomach become heavier with blood as it drooped away from the wound. Suddenly, an explosion filled the back of the house. I gripped the armchair, Dean and I screaming at Gordon from behind the bandana.

“Hold on. Not yet,” Gordon stopped us, holding a finger out. “Just wait and see.”

The second explosion was even bigger, wood from the walls of the house flew inward, flying over Dean and me. I could feel the heat on the side of my body. I looked up at Gordon, tears springing to my eyes when I didn’t hear any movement from Sam after that.

“Sorry, you guys,” Gordon said, trying to sound sympathetic. He brought the rifle up as he made his way toward the back of the house.

I dropped my head low on my chest as Dean and I pulled against the restraints on my arms and feet. Dean was rocking his chair back and forth, trying to slam it hard enough against the floor to break it. I tried it too, but it only sent excruciating waves of pain up my torso.

“Put it down now!” A voice shouted from the back of the house. My heart pounded as Dean and I looked over our shoulders. That wasn’t just any voice, I’d know it from anywhere.

“You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy?” We heard Gordon ask. “Because your sister and your brother, they think you're some kind of saint.”

“Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure.”

“See, that's what I said.”

I heard the unmistakable sounds of grunting combined with flesh connecting with bone. The thwack of fists that rained over each other. I pulled against the rope tighter, nearly screaming in the effort to get myself free. Then, the wall behind us collapsed as Sam was nearly thrown through it.

Sam groaned, rolling onto his back, blood dripping from his lip and eyebrow. Gordon grabbed a knife from his belt, kneeling down on the middle of Sam’s chest, “You're no better than the filthy things you hunt.”

I watched in horror as Gordon raised the knife over Sam, but before he could sink it into his chest, Sam grabbed him by the collar, throwing him off of him. Sam quickly stood, landing blow after blow across Gordon’s face.

Sam reached down, picking up the rifle Gordon had dropped. He tucked it under his arm as he aimed the barrel between Gordon’s eyes. Gordon laughed darkly, taunting Sam, “Do it. Do it! Show your brother and sister the killer you really are, Sammy.”

Sam ground his teeth, and for an instant, I thought he would. However, Sam brought the gun upward before slamming the butt of it against his face, knocking him out cold. Sam panted, his chest heaving, “It's Sam.”

Sam threw the rifle aside as he came toward Dean and I, coming to my chair first. He slowly untied me, his eyebrows furrowing at the blood coating my shirt, “He do that to you?”

I pulled the gag from my mouth, “Lets just go.” I untied my other hand and then standing once he freed my feet. Sam untied Dean, too and Dean held Sam by his chest, looking over his bloody face before looking to me.

Red hot anger coated Dean’s face. He ground his teeth, turning back to where Gordon was unconscious on the floor, “That son of a bitch-”

“Dean. No,” Sam said, pulling him back.

“I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice.”

“Trust me. Gordon's taken care of,” Sam said, leading us toward the door. “Come on, we’ll stitch you up.”

I nodded, holding the gauze over the bullet hole. Dean threw one of my arms around his shoulders, taking some of the weight off my feet. We dragged forward, coming up near one of the abandoned cars when gunshots rang out behind us. I quickly turned where Gordon was holding a gun in each hand.

“Come on!” Dean shouted, quickly snatching me off my feet. “You call this taken care of!?” They continued running until we were nestled behind low bushes. We peaked out from behind the ground. “What the hell are we doing?”

“Just trust me on this, all right?” Sam said.

As if on cue, three police cars halted to a stop in front of Gordon, making him whip around. “Drop your weapons! Get down on your knees!”

Gordon looked around wide-eyed, still trying to find us in the commotion.

“Do it, now!”

Gordon dropped the guns, sinking to the gravel road. An officer approached, his gun trained on him, “Put your hands on your head. Easy now.”

A smile lingered on my lips as we watched Gordon be put into handcuffs. Sam smirked, “Anonymous tip.”

I laughed, wincing, “You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Alright, one more,” Sam said as he stitched me up in the backseat of the Impala. I skewed my face up slightly as he pierced the skin. I sighed in relief as he cut the thread, tying it off with a knot. “All better.”

I smiled half-heartedly, “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Gordon Walker was hunting Sam?” Ellen repeated Dean’s words through the phone. He watched me from the front seat.

“Yeah, he almost killed us all, Ellie got shot, just because somebody over there can't keep their friggin' mouth shut!”

“And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way.”

Dean’s grip tightened on the phone, “Well, who else knows about Sam, huh? I mean, you must have been talking to somebody.”

Sam’s eyes cast downwards as he clicked the first aid box shut. I slowly sat up, cradling the clean gauze over the fresh stitches.

“Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid,” she shot at Dean. “We haven't breathed a word of this.”

“Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections, Ellen.”

“And this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together,” Ellen paused. Dean’s jaw unclenched slightly. “I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey, Ava, it's Sam. Again,” Sam said into his phone. I rolled my head toward him as he left the third voicemail on this girl’s phone. “Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. All right. Bye.”

I sat up, noticing the way Sam’s eyes lingered on Ava’s name in his phone, “Everything alright?”

He clenched his jaw, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Yeah, I hope so.”

“Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least,” Dean smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him,” Sam said. “And if he doesn't bust out.”

We sat in comfortable silence again until Dean glanced over to Sam, “Dude, you ever take off like that again…”

“What?” Sam asked, a smile ghosting over his lips. “You'll kill me?”

Dean shook his head as Sam laughed, “That is so not funny.”

“All right. All right. So where to next, then?”

“One word,” Dean beamed. “Amsterdam.”

I rolled my eyes, “Dean.”

“Come on, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee.”

“We’re not just gonna ditch the job.”

Dean shook his head, “Screw the job. Screw it, I mean, I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get's bad luck.”

I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. However, he knew we couldn’t up and leave, not while we were in the middle of this shit storm, “Well, come on, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do.”

“Ah, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap.”

“You mean you don't believe in my destiny,” Sam corrected.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened,” Sam said. Dean didn’t spare a glance over to him. “You can't run from this. And you can't protect me.”

Dean let a beat of silence pass as he glanced to Sam and me, “I can try.”

Sam nodded, “Thanks for that.”

I smiled softly, “Look, I'm gonna keep hunting. I mean, whatever’s coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around.”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded in agreement. “Me too.”

Dean tightened his grip on the wheel, “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Losers,” I grinned.

Comfortable silence filled the car, the only sound coming from the radio that quietly played Dean’s music. It wasn’t until Sam pulled his phone out again that any of us spoke. Dean looked over to him, “You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?”

“She's engaged, Dean.”

“So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?” Dean smirked, but Sam’s face stayed serious. He shook his head, concern written over his face. “What?”

“Just a feeling,” he said. “How far is it to Peoria?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I stared up at Ava’s house through the back window. It was a small, white house bathed under the moonlight. I followed Sam and Dean as they slid from the car, but Dean stopped me, “Woah, woah, woah, slow down, there, Flash. You’re not going in there.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Like hell I’m not.”

I tried maneuvering around him, but Dean side-stepped me, blocking the way, “You’re hurt. We have no idea what’s in there.”

I sighed, running my tongue over the edges of my teeth, “Dean, it’s a gunshot, I didn’t lose a limb. I’m coming with.”

Dean glanced to Sam over the roof of the car, “You wanna get in on this?”

Sam only shrugged and Dean groaned, shaking his head, “You’re a stubborn pain in the ass, you know that? If there’s something in there, I ain’t covering for you.”

“Sure you won’t,” I smiled, grabbing a flashlight and my gun from the trunk. I trailed a few steps behind them as we ascended the stairs of the house where the front door was unlocked. Sam pushed it open, shining his flashlight over the house.

“Hello? Is anybody home?”

I glanced into the living room to our right, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. The kitchen and bathroom seemed fine, too. It wasn’t until I heard Sam’s voice coming from the bedroom in a hushed whisper, “Oh my god.”

I rounded the corner from the bathroom and into the bedroom where Sam and Dean were standing at the foot of the bed where a man laid, his body ripped to shreds. Dark blood coated the white sheets, the headboard, the wall and carpet. It was a bloodbath.

I continued looking around the room, stopping at an open window. I leaned forward, getting a better look at the windowsill that was coated in something grainy. I ran my finger through it before turning to Sam and Dean, “Hey.” I held up my finger, coated with the stuff. “Sulfur. Demon's been here.”

Sam clenched his jaw as he shook his head. I rubbed my finger on my jacket as Sam noticed something on the floor. I inched closer, my flashlight shining over the bloody engagement ring between Sam’s fingers.

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*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Tall Tales

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie call on Bobby for help after they are stumped by violent and inexplicable happenings on a local college campus.

Disclaimers: mentions of suicide, death

Word Count: 8.6K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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I wanted to strangle them both.

I eyed Sam who sat on the motel couch across from me, flipping through a lore book before letting my eyes flit to Dean who was licking his fingers clean after stuffing the chili fries into his mouth. I gripped my biceps tighter, my folded arms tight against my chest in anger.

Sam rubbed his eyes with his fingers before dropping his hand, turning to Dean, “Dude. You mind not eating those on our bed?”

“No, I don't mind,” Dean said, flipping the pages of the magazine, not looking up at him. “How's research going?”

“You know how it's going? Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster?” Sam asked, his voice rising in frustration. “If I had my computer!”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed, smiling sarcastically at Sam.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, my ears ringing with the constant rock music that was blaring through the old speaker on the bedside table. I looked to Sam, gritting my teeth, “You know what would really make me feel a lot better? If I had my iPod with my music on it so I didn’t have to listen to his crap all the time!” I nearly shouted at Sam before turning back to Dean. “Will you please turn that down!?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Dean said, reaching over and dialing the music up.

“For the last time, I didn’t break your iPod!” Sam shot back at me.

“Yeah, then who did?!”

Sam clenched his jaw with unsaid words, letting out an unsteady breath, “You know what? Maybe, uh, maybe you two should just go somewhere for a while.”

“Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea,” Dean said before glaring at me. “Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, “Dean, I told you, I had nothing to do wi—”

Two knocks at the motel door silenced me. We glanced at each other before Sam stood, looking through the peephole in the door and then pulling it open, Bobby standing on the other side, “Hey, Bobby.”

“Kids,” he greeted as he stepped inside. “It's good to see you again so soon.”

“Thank god you're here,” I said, grateful to have someone to work this out with us. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand bickering with either of them for much longer.

Bobby picked up an empty plate of chili fries, grimacing as he moved it away from the spot at the end of the bed before sitting down, “So, what didn't you want to talk to me on the phone about?”

“It's this job we're working. We— we weren't sure you'd believe us,” Dean said, sitting at the end of the other bed. Sam and I pulled chairs up next to them.

“Well, I can believe a lot.”

Sam nodded, “Yeah, no, no, it's just, we've never seen anything like it—”

“Not even close,” I finished. “And we thought we could use some fresh eyes.”

“Well, why don't you begin at the beginning?” Bobby said.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam nodded, clasping his hands in front of him, beginning his version of the story. “So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So, we pretexted as reporters from the local paper.”

Sam’s POV

I set the tape recorder on the bar table between Jen and Curtis, two students from the University who were more than willing to talk about what they thought was happening. Curtis was leaned back in his chair, a mug of beer in his hand, “Yeah, we both had the professor for Ethics and Morality.”

“Yeah? So why do you think he did it?”

“Who knows?” Jen said this time, making me look over to her. “I mean, he was tenured, wife and kids. His book is like a really big deal. Then again...who's to say it was suicide?”

Curtis shook his head, laughing, “Jen, come on.”

“Well, what else could it be?” I prodded, wanting the full theory just in case there was some kind of truth to any of it.

Jen leaned forward over the table slightly, “Well, you know about Crawford Hall?”

I frowned, “No, I don't, actually.”

“It's a bunch of crap, it's a total urban legend,” Curtis dismissed, taking a long drink.

“Yeah well, Heather's mom went to school here, and she knew the girl!”

I sat forward, “Wait, what girl?”

Jen’s eyes darted from Curtis’ to mine, “Thirty years ago, this girl was having an affair with some professor. He broke it off, she jumped out the window and killed herself.”

This was new information. “You know her name?”

“No. But they say she jumped from room six-six-nine,” Jen whispered, leaning even further over the table as if to emphasize her point. “Get it? You turn the nine upside down?” Curtis snorted but Jen ignored him, leaning back in her chair. “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?” Curtis smirked, toying with her.

“Curtis! Shut up!”

I spotted Dean from across the bar where he was talking to a girl when he was supposed to be finding more leads on the case. I sighed, gathering my things, and ending the tape recording. “You know what, thanks a lot guys. Excuse me.”

I crossed the bar, rolling my eyes as I approached Dean who was taking three shots in a row, each one making him a little clumsier. By the time he downed the third one, I cleared my throat, “Dean. Dean, what are you drinking?”

Dean turned, smiling lazily, “I don't know, man, I think they're called purple nurples?”

I glanced at the questionable purple liquid, “Okay, well listen. I think maybe we should go check out the professor's office.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no I can't right now, I've got some feisty little wildcat on the hook, I'm about to – zzzzp – reel her in. I'll introduce you,” he slurred, his words falling together as he motioned over his shoulder toward a girl wearing fishnets under a pair of short shorts.

“Dean— where’s Ellie?”

He ignored me, grabbing the attention of the short-haired blonde, “Starla! Starla, hey. This is my shuttle co-pilot Major Tom. Major Tom, Starla.”

Starla threw her arm around Dean’s neck, smiling drunkenly as she held a shot glass up, “Enchanté.”

I gave her a fake smile, “Hi.”

Starla suddenly stumbled away from Dean, a hand covering her mouth as she gagged a few times before pulling it away, laughing, “Sorry. Just trying to keep my liquor down!”

“Yeah! Good job,” Dean beamed before turning back to me. “Hey. Good news. She's got a sister.”

I grimaced, “Hey, that’s great, here’s an idea: why don’t we find our sister before you go picking up someone else’s!”

Dean slapped my chest, “Calm down, she’s having fun, look at her!”

I looked toward where Dean was pointing where Ellie stumbled drunkenly toward the stage at the front of the bar, her drink sloshing over her cup. She laughed wildly, grabbing the microphone, “This one’s for all my-“ she hiccupped, “girls out there.”

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun blared through the bar, the karaoke screen lighting up to show the first verse of the song –

“Alright, that’s where I draw the line,” Ellie said, interrupting my version of events. “I would never karaoke to Cyndi Lauper!”

“That’s where you draw the line in this?” Dean asked incredulously. “Come on, dude, that's not how it happened.”

I raised my eyebrows, “No? So you never drank a purple nurple?”

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, maybe that, but I don't say things like ‘feisty little wildcat’. And her name wasn't Starla.”

Ellie cocked an eyebrow, “Then what was it?”

Dean hesitated for a minute, “I don't know. But she was a classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories.”

Dean’s POV

I picked up the shot glass, clinking it with hers. I could hardly remember her name now, but her big eyes and the low cut of her dress made it so I didn’t really mind.

“Here's to...”

“Here's to us,” she finished, our glasses clinking before we downed the shots. “My god, you are attractive.”

“Thanks. But no time for that now,” I dismissed humbly. We had a job to do, after all. “You need to tell me about this urban legend. Please. Lives are at stake.”

Her eyes darted over mine, “Sorry, I just…can't even concentrate. It's like staring…into the sun.”

Her hand snaked its way to the back of my head, slowly pulling me down to her lips, soft and slow. I brought my hand up to her cheek, caressing it carefully, delicately.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice called from behind me. “What do you think you're doing?”

I reluctantly pulled my lips away, just barely glancing over my shoulder towards him, “Sam, please. If you wouldn't mind, give me five minutes here.”

Then, Ellie came from almost out of nowhere, a hand on her hip, “Dean, this is a very serious investigation. We don't have any time for any of your blah blah blah blah.”

“Blah blah blah blah,” Sam chimed in. However, I tuned the two of them out, turning back to the girl who smiled up at me.

“Blah blah blah Blah!”

“Right! And that's how it really happened,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“And I don't sound like that, Dean!” Ellie said defensively.

“That's what you sound like to me.”

She shook her head, turning to Bobby, “Listen, you want the God’s honest true story?”

“I’ve gotta feelin’ you’re gonna tell me anyway,” Bobby said.

“First of all, I wasn’t even singing karaoke,” she said, shooting a look at Sam. “I was playing pool.”

Ellie’s POV

Butcher Little was anything but: a burly, scraggly man whose tattoos coated his arms, legs and neck. The man who everyone warned me about when I stepped up to the pool table, taking one of the pool cues.

“He’s one of the best, kid,” one of the patrons at the bar had said to me.

I smirked, sizing the man up, “We’ll see about that.”

I watched as Butcher, without having to spare so much as a glance at the white ball, sunk the eight ball into the corner pocket. The crowd erupted into cheers as the man he’d been playing groaned, throwing his money onto the green felt tabletop. Butcher picked up the money, shoving it into the pocket of his leather biker vest.

“Who else wants to try!?” He yelled out to the crowd. “I’ve got alllll night.”

“Me,” I said, stepping up to the table. Butcher turned to me, the group behind him laughing.

“Nice one, little lady,” he scoffed. “Ain’t got time for no amateurs, or girls for that matter. This is a man’s game.”

I smiled as the crowd’s laughter grew louder, “Then why don’t you go find me a man to play against then.”

The crowd behind him instantly quieted, glancing at Butcher who ground his teeth, “Listen, I ain’t got time for-”

“Amateurs,” I finished. “Right. Well I ain’t no amateur so either you keep talkin’ or we start playin’.”

I fished a wad of cash from my back pocket, placing it on the edge of the table. Butcher cocked an eyebrow before pulling his money from his pocket, showing it to me. However, before he set it on the table, a smile came to his lips before he turned over his shoulder, “Hey, Lenny! Why don’t you bring out the bucket?”

The crowd instantly began to mutter quietly at his words. I watched him carefully as his smile widened. The crowd around the pool table parted as the bartender made his way through, a large bucket balancing on his shoulder. When he set it down in the middle of the pool table, I could see the wadded up ones, fives and tens that were thrown inside.

I cocked an eyebrow at Butcher, “This is all the money I’ve won playin’ this game, little lady. And you know what? I like you, so I’m gonna make you a deal. If you’re interested, that is.”

I was, in fact, interested. I rested my palms on the table, leaning toward him under the low-hanging ceiling light, “Lay it on me.”

“If I win, you give me all you got. Including that there jacket.”

I squinted down at my jacket, looking back up at him, “My jacket?”

He nodded, “Got a lady who’ll look real nice in it.”

I folded my arms, “And if I win?”

Butcher tilted the bucket my way, showing me the money inside, “It’s all yours.”

I glanced at the money before glancing back up to Butcher, “You’re on.”

Claps and cheers came from the crowd as we threw our money into the bucket. I shrugged my jacket off, throwing it on top. The bucket was quickly escorted off the table as another man took the balls from the pockets and aligning them in the rack before pulling it away.

Hands massaged Butcher’s shoulders, hyping him up as he dusted the end of his sleek black pool cue.

I held tightly onto the bar’s wooden one, watching his pre-show arrogance. When he was finally ready, he stepped up to the table, motioning to the balls, “Ladies first.”

I was hoping he’d say that. I stepped up to the table, lining up my first shot. The balls dispersed, rolling across each corner of the table. I sunk my first ball. I rotated around the table, lining up my next shot, sinking my second and then my third striped ball before missing my fourth.

I stepped away, looking up at Butcher whose body language told me he was slightly uncomfortable, but saved face nonetheless. He stepped up to the table, lining up his shot. I tried to keep calm as he sunk nearly five balls in a row, each one bouncing into the pockets one after the other.

The crowd erupted again. I had four balls still on the table and he had two. This was my last chance. If I didn’t win this time around, he would definitely steal it from me. I maneuvered around the table, taking a deep breath as I shot one after the other, efficiently sinking my last four balls until all that was left was the eight ball.

Butcher’s face began to grow red with anger every time I sunk another ball, but I kept on going. The bar patrons grew quiet, watching us. I glanced up at my opponent, “You wanna call the pocket? Make things interesting?”

He let out an unamused umph sound before taping his finger on the pocket next to me that was blocked by one of his balls. I let out a low whistle, “Wow that’s dirty, even for you, Butch.”

I leaned against the table, holding the cue at an angle, just like Dean had showed me so many times before. I hit the edge of the white ball, watching it effectively hop over his ball and knock the eight ball into the pocket.

The crowd was quiet as I stepped back, smiling. Butcher was angry, gripping the cue in his large hand. However, I simply slid my jacket back on, picking up the bucket of cash and shoved the pool cue in Butcher’s chest-

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dean interrupted.

“What do you mean!?”

Sam looked at me pointedly, “If that story were true, where’d all the money go?”

“Well now it’s going toward buying me a new iPod!”

“Okay,” Bobby interjected. Sam and I instantly silenced. “What's going on with you three?”

Sam shook his head, “Nothing. It's nothing.”

“Look, it, we've just been on the road for too long,” I dismissed, rubbing my temples. “Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it.”

Bobby reluctantly nodded and Sam went on with what happened that night, “So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime.”

Sam’s POV

“So, how long've you been working here?” I asked the janitor as we followed him up the numerous flights of stairs up to the professor’s office.

“I've been mopping this floor for six years. There you go, guys,” he said as he unlocked the office door, pushing it open and flicking on the lights. Ellie pulled the EMF meter from her jacket, turning it on, the low hum making the janitor turn. “What the heck's that for?”

“Just to find a wire in the walls,” she lied, holding it up.

“Huh,” he said, lingering next to her. “So, how’s a girl like you land a job like this?”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, you know, the pretty ones are always waitresses, nurses—”

“Hey,” I interjected, shooting a death glare at the short man. He brought his hands up in surrender. Ellie took a few steps away from him, continuing to scan the room.

“Not sure why you're wiring up this office,” the janitor said, crossing his arms as he leaned up against the doorway. “Not gonna do the professor much good.”

“Why's that?” Dean asked as he crossed the room, picking up a few pieces of chocolate from a bowl and shoved them in his mouth.

“He's dead,” the janitor said bluntly before pushing himself away from the doorframe, pointing at the open window across the room behind a large desk. “He went out that window. Right there.”

“Yeah?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Were you working that night?”

“I'm the one who found him.”

“You see it happen?”

The janitor shook his head, “Nope. I just saw him come up here, and uh...well…”

I watched as he hesitated and Ellie raised her eyebrows, “What?”

“He wasn't alone.”

Dean came to stand next to Ellie and me again, his cheeks stuffed with chocolate, mumbling around the food in his mouth, “Who was he with?”

“Come on! I ate one, maybe two!” Dean interrupted.

I rolled my eyes, “Just let me tell it, okay?”

“He was with a young lady,” the janitor said as Dean continued to chew. “I told the cops about her, but uh, I guess they never found her.”

“You saw this girl go in, huh?” Ellie began. “But did you ever see her come out?”

The janitor thought about it, “Now that you mention it, no.”

“You ever see her around before?”

“Well, not her.”

Dean shoved another chocolate in his mouth, his cheeks bulging with them, “What do you mean?”

“I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh…Mister Morality here? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat.”

Ellie let out a snort, her and the janitor laughing. I squinted at the man, “One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So there wouldn't be a room six-six-nine?”

He frowned, “'Course not. Why do you ask?”

“Aw, just curious. Thanks.”

“After taking a look in the professor’s office and talking a little longer to the janitor, we realized there wasn’t much more to go on there,” I said to Bobby who was now standing, thinking as he slowly walked the length of the room. “So, we came back to the motel.”

“Well, no traces of EMF, that's for sure,” Ellie said as she tossed the EMF detector onto the motel table next to an empty pizza box and three empty beers.

“And the room six-six-nine's a load of crap,” Dean grumbled, grabbing another beer from the fridge.

I sat down at the table, “So what do you think? The professor's just a jumper? A legend's just a legend?”

Ellie shrugged, “I don't know. I mean, the girl the janitor described, that's pretty weird.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, twisting the cap off of the bottle. “We oughta check out the history of the building. See if any co-ed ganked herself there.”

“Yeah, you're right,” I said. I grabbed my laptop from the table, kicking my feet up on one of the empty chairs as I powered the computer on. Instantly, the screen opened to a frozen image of a porn site staring back at me.

Ellie immediately slapped a hand over her eyes, “Oh god, Sam, really!?”

“No, this wasn’t –” I stopped, gritting my teeth as I turned toward the bathroom Dean had disappeared into. “Dude! Were you on my computer?”

Dean popped his head back out into the kitchen, hesitating, “No.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now. On uh, bustyasianbeauties.com!” I watched Dean who struggled to come up with an excuse. When he couldn’t, he just disappeared back into the bathroom. “Dean! Would you – just – don't touch my stuff anymore, okay?”

“Why don't you control your O.C.D.–”

“But did you dig up anything about the building?” Bobby asked, stepping away from the window, turning to us. “Or on the suicidal co-ed?”

I rubbed at the back of my neck, “No. History's clean.”

“Then it's not a haunting.”

“Maybe not,” Dean said. “Tell you the truth, we're not really sure.”

Bobby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean, you're not sure?”

Ellie hesitated, glancing at Dean and I as she shifted in her seat, “Well...it's weird.”

“What's weird?”

“This next part, we uh, we didn't see it happen ourselves exactly,” Dean began, “but it's pretty friggin’ weird. Even for us.”

“Well, I ain’t got all day, boy. Spit it out.”

Dean opened his mouth, sighing, “Aliens.”

Bobby’s eyes bounced between the three of us, “Aliens?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Aliens?”

“Yeah,” I repeated.

Bobby shook his head, “Look, even if they are real, they're sure as hell not coming to earth and swiping people. I mean, my whole life I've never found evidence of an honest-to-God abduction.”

Ellie nodded, “Yeah, that's what we thought. But...we figured we'd at least talk to the guy.”

Ellie’s POV

“Hey, have either of you seen my iPod?” I asked, looking up from where I was going through my duffle bag. Sam was scrolling on his laptop and Dean was flipping through the channels on the TV.

The two of them remained quiet. I ground my teeth, “Hello? Am I invisible?”

“I wish,” Dean mumbled under his breath.

I rolled my eyes, looking to Sam who was now looking up at me, “Have you seen my iPod?”

Sam shrugged, “No. Where’d you put it last?”

I went back to my duffle bag, taking everything out of it in an effort to find the iPod with no luck. I sighed, glancing around the room before my eyes went back to Sam again, “Hey, you used it this morning on your run, didn’t you?”

Sam cocked an eyebrow, “Yeah…but I put it back on the table.”

I glanced behind me at the pizza boxes and bottles that littered the table, but no iPod, “Obviously you didn’t.”

“Well, you must’ve misplaced it.”

“No, you misplaced it,” I corrected him, shoving my clothes back inside the duffle bag. I glanced around the room again when something caught my eye, peeking out from under the bed. I switched the bedside table on, trying to get a better look at it.

I pulled the thing from under the bed, my heart dropping to my toes. My iPod looked like it’d been through a meat grinder. The screen was shattered, scratches covered every inch of the front and back. The only thing intact was the headphones, still plugged in.

Under the lighting, it looked even worse. My hand tightened around it as I stood, propelling myself toward Sam, “Were you gonna tell me you broke it, or did you want me to find out on my own?”

Sam looked up from his computer, “What?” I tossed the iPod into his lap. Sam picked it up, eyes wide. “I didn’t do this—”

“Sam, enough, alright?” I pleaded. “Why didn’t you just tell me—”

“It wasn’t me, El.”

“Well you were the last one to touch it!” I nearly shouted. “It was under your side of the bed!”

“Was not!”

“Was to!”

“I told you, Ellie, I didn’t break it!” Sam defended himself.

“Will you let me finish?” I retorted. Sam let out a huff of air, sitting back in his chair.

Dean’s ringtone silenced our shouting match. Dean groaned, flipping it open but he hardly got a word in before he glanced up at us, grabbing his jacket from the end of the couch. Dean filled us in on the way back to the bar. It was Curtis who called, the guy Sam had interviewed a few nights ago.

Curtis’ fingers danced over the rim of one of the four shot glasses lined up in front of him. He was hunched over the table, his eyes dropping, looking like he’d had enough to drink for the four of us.

“Hey, you ought to give those purple nurples a shot,” Dean joked when Curtis downed one of them. Dean’s smile quickly disappeared when Curtis shot him a glare.

“So, what happened, Curtis?” Sam asked from where he stood next to the table.

“You won't believe me,” Curtis mumbled, shaking his head. “Nobody does.”

I leaned over the table a little more, folding my hands in front of me, “Give us a chance.”

Curtis took another shot, bringing the glass down hard on the table before pointing to Dean, swaying softly in the chair, “I do not want this in the papers.”

Dean shrugged, “Off the record, then.”

Curtis’ gaze lingered on Dean before tearing his eyes away, staring back down into the shot glasses as he recalled that night, just less than 24 hours ago, “I, uh...I blacked out, and...I lost time, and when I woke up, I don't know where I was.”

“Then what?” Sam asked, sitting down in the chair next to Dean.

“They did tests on me. And, uh…” he paused, grabbing the third shot and throwing it back quickly. He crossed his arms on the table. “They, uh...they probed me.”

I cinched my eyebrows together, dragging my eyes over to Sam who was trying to hide his laughter and Dean, who cleared his throat. “They probed you?”

“Yeah, they probed me. Again and a— again and – and again. And again and again and again...” he grabbed the last shot, taking it in one gulp, “…and then one more time.”

“Yikes,” I said.

“And that's not even the worst of it.”

“How could it get any worse?” Dean asked. “Some alien made you his bitch.”

Curtis tightened his grip on his arms, “They...they made me slow dance!”

“You guys are exaggerating again, huh?” Bobby asked.

“No,” we said in unison.

Bobby raised his eyebrows, “Then this frat boy's just nuts.”

I shook my head, “We're not so sure.”

A crowd was beginning to form outside of Crawford Hall where Curtis had said he’d been abducted. Under the sunlight the next morning, we could clearly make out the perfect circle of dead grass on the lawn in front of the building.

“I'm telling you, this was made by some kind of jet engine,” Sam said as we examined it.

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “You mean some saucer-shaped jet engine?”

“What else could it be?”

Dean shook his head, mumbling to himself. “What the hell…I mean, seriously, – what the hell? I mean, first the haunting. Now this? The timing alone – there's got to be some kind of connection.”

“You mean between the angry spirit and the sexed-up E.T.?” I asked. “What could the connection possibly be?”

“But what could we do?” Dean said to Bobby. “So we just kept on digging.”

Dean’s POV

“So, you and this guy, Curtis – you were in the same house?” Sam asked Ricky, one of Curtis’ frat brothers.

“Yeah.”

“You heard what happened to him, right?” I asked.

Ricky nodded hesitantly, “Yeah, he says it was aliens, but, you know, whatever.”

“Look, Ricky, I – I know this all has to be so hard,” Sam sympathized, nodding slowly.

Ricky wrinkled his eyebrows at his words, “Um, not so much.”

Sam began to tear up, “But I want you to know...I'm here for you. You brave little soldier. I acknowledge your pain.” Ricky looked confused, Ellie and I sharing a glance, knowing what was coming next. Sam was on the brink of tears now as he stepped towards him. “Come here.” He wrapped Ricky in a tight hug. “You're too precious for this world.”

“I never said that!” Sam said defensively.

I shrugged, “You're always saying pansy stuff like that.”

“Well, um…yeah, uh, thanks,” Ricky fumbled, maneuvering out of his grip. “Thanks for the hug, but, uh, I'm okay. Really.” Sam nodded, stepping away as he lightly patted Ricky’s shoulders. “To tell you the truth, whatever happened to Curtis, he had it coming.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows, “Why’s that?”

“He's our pledge master. Put us through hell this semester and got off on it,” Ricky said. “So now he knows how we feel.”

I hummed at his words. Sam began to tear up again and I patted his shoulder, “It's okay.”

Once we talked to as many of the people closest to Curtis we could, we were still at a loss. There’s was virtually nothing solid for us to go on.

“Still doesn't make a lick of sense,” I said when we came back into the motel room. I shrugged my jacket off. “But, hey, at least there's one connection.”

“Between what?” Ellie asked, frowning at the still-broken iPod that laid on the table.

“The victims. The professor and the frat guy – they're both dicks.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow as he began to rifle through his backpack, “That's a connection?”

“You got anything better to go on, I'd love to hear it.”

“Where's my laptop?” Sam asked.

“I don't know,” I said, going back to the case, looking to Ellie now. “Think about it. A philandering professor gets a dead girl. A pledge master gets hazed.”

“Weird ass connection,” Ellie said.

“I left it in here,” Sam went on about his laptop.

“You obviously didn't,” I said. Sam threw back the covers on each of the beds. “I mean, these punishments—they're almost poetic…Actually, it'd be more like a limerick, but still –”

“Okay, hilarious. Ha ha. Where'd you hide it?” Sam said angrily at me.

“What, your computer?”

“Yeah, where'd you hide it?”

I glanced to Ellie and then back to Sam in confusion, “Why would I take your computer?”

Sam turned, looking to Ellie angrily but she only shook her head, “Hey, unlike some other people I know I don’t take people’s things and ruin them.”

“Well, it had to have been one of you,” he clenched his jaw. “We keep the door locked. We never let any maids in!"

I smirked, “Looks like you lost it, Poindexter.”

Sam let out a huff of annoyance, “Dude, you know something? I put up with a lot from you.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows, “What are you talking about? I'm a joy to be around.”

“Yeah?” Sam laughed humorlessly. “Your dirty socks in the sink, your food in the fridge.”

“Hey, you can’t talk, with all the hair you leave in the shower, it’s gross!”

“It’s hair and it’s probably Ellie’s!”

Ellie shook her head, examining her iPod, “Oh, whatever!”

“And what's wrong with my food?” I asked.

“It's not food anymore, Dean! It's Darwinism!” He shouted.

I shrugged, “I like it.”

“All I ask from you, the one thing, is that you don't mess with my stuff!”

Sam’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. I waited, letting a beat of silence pass before speaking, “You done?”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head, “You know, how would you feel if I screwed with the Impala?”

Just the idea sent murderous thoughts spinning through my head, “It'd be the last thing you ever did.”

“Did you take his computer?” Bobby asked me.

I took a drink from the beer in my hands, “Serves him right, but no.”

“Well, I didn't lose it,” Sam retorted. “'Cause I don't lose things!”

“Oh, that's right, yeah, 'cause he's Mr. Perfect.”

“Sam, did you break Ellie’s iPod?” Bobby questioned Sam this time.

Sam chuckled humorlessly, “No, I did not.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head, “Well, can’t wait to find the magical little fairy that must’ve snuck in because that’s the only other reasonable explanation.”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby said quickly. “Why don't you just tell me what happened next?”

“There was one more victim,” Sam said.

“Right. Now, we, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. We kind of put it together from the evidence. But this guy—” Ellie paused, shaking her head. “He was, uh, he was a research scientist. Animal testing.”

I nodded, “Yeah, you know – a dick. Which fits the pattern.”

“Cops didn't release the cause of death 'cause they had no clue what the cause was.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, “So, we checked it out ourselves.”

Ellie’s POV

Dean and I crouched behind Sam as he used his pocketknife to unlatch the window. Once opened, we slid inside one at a time into the morgue.

We pulled open each refrigerator door, glancing at the toe tags until finally, Dean opened one, his face twisting, “Well, this oughta be quick.”

He pulled the tray from the wall, Sam and I crowding around it next to Dean. The sheet on top of the body, or what remained of the body, was soaked in blood. Hesitantly, Dean grabbed the clean edges of the sheet and lifted it away.

Just the sight alone made us gag. I tore my eyes away from the single arm left, flesh clinging to the end of it lying next to the bottom half of a leg. A pile of recovered muscle and skin was piled onto the edge of the tray.

I held my mouth, “Okay, that is just nasty.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam groaned. “Mutilated?”

“Looks to me like something was hungry,” Dean said.

“They identify him yet?” I asked as I reluctantly leaned in closer to the remains.

Sam nodded, “Yeah, uh, a research scientist at the college. Guess where his office was, by the way. Crawford Hall, same as the professor.”

“That's right where the frat boy had his close encounter,” Dean recalled.

Something in the skin of the scientist’s remains made me squint. I reached over to the standing magnifying glass next to me. I switched on the light, looking at the enlarged remains.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

I squinted at the small, triangular piece lodged into the skin. I hesitated, “Looks like a...a belly scale?”

“A belly scale?” Dean questioned. “From what?”

“Uh...” I hesitated again, not believing what I was about to say, “an alligator?”

Dean scoffed, “An alligator in the sewer. Come on.”

“Dean, it's a classic urban legend,” Sam said as I stepped away from the magnifying glass. “A kid flushes a baby gator down the toilet, and it grows huge in the tunnels.”

“But no one's ever really found one,” he pointed out. “I mean, they're not real.”

“Well, neither's alien abduction, but something chomped on this guy.”

“This couldn't get any weirder,” I sighed, shaking my head. “Maybe we should get some help. I'll call Bobby. Maybe he's run into something like this before.”

Dean chuckled humorlessly, “Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig. Yeah, it's simple.”

“We decided to search the sewer anyway, so we split up, each taking one end of campus,” I said.

Bobby cocked an eyebrow, “D'you find anything?”

“Yeah, I found something,” Dean said, glaring at me. “Just not in the sewer.”

Dean’s POV

I pushed the manhole cover up, sliding it across the concrete, pulling myself out of the sewer after finding exactly no evidence there was ever an alligator snacking on people down there.

I rounded the block, trying not to think about how long I was down roaming the sewers when the sight of Baby stopped me. I clenched my jaw as I approached her, the way she was sitting much lower to the ground than she was before.

The wheels were slashed, the tires looking like they were melting into the ground. “Oh, no, no, no…son of a bitch.”

I rounded the car, wincing at it when something shiny caught my eye. I stepped toward it, picking up the money clip that was left abandoned by the front passenger wheel, the initials E.W. carved into the metal.

My hand tightened around the clip, clenching my jaw as fury propelled me forward, “Ellie!”

Sam and Ellie were on opposite sides of the motel room when I came back in. I slammed the door behind me, going straight to Ellie who was laying across the couch, reading.

“You think this is funny?” I asked her.

She squinted up at me, “It depends. What?”

“The car!” I said angrily.

She looked confused, but I knew it was just an act. “What about the car?”

“You can't let the air out of the tires, you idiot. You're gonna bend the rims!”

From the other side of the room where he was laying on the bed, Sam snickered, “You did what, El?”

She slowly sat up, closing the book, and setting in on the table, “Whoa, wait a minute. I didn't go near your car.”

I nearly burst out laughing. Instead, I fished the money clip from my pocket, showing it to her, “Oh, yeah? Huh. Then how'd I find this?”

Her eyes went wide as she stood, holding her hand out, “Hey. Give me back my money!”

“Oh, no. Consider it reparations. For, uh, emotional trauma.”

I went to the bed, throwing my jacket onto my bed. She rolled her eyes, following me, “Yeah, very funny. Now give it back.”

She reached for the money, but I pulled it from her grip at the last second, “No.”

“Dean, I have had it up to here with you,” Ellie said through clenched teeth, looking to Sam who was smirking at the interaction. “And you, too!”

“Yeah? Right back at you!” I said. She reached for the money again, but I pulled my arm away. She chuckled, shaking her head before reaching for it again. This time, she grabbed me from the side, pulling the two of us down sideways onto the bed.

Sam let out a huff of pain as we fell onto his legs. Ellie reached for the money, forcing my arms down so she could reach it, but I was stronger. I forced my hand away from her grip, holding it out in front of us.

“Get off me!” I shouted at her.

“Get off me!” Sam shouted this time.

Ellie threw a leg over my side, pinning my arm against me as she climbed towards my outstretched hand, “Give it back!”

“Okay, I've heard enough,” Bobby intercepted.

“Anyway, you showed up about an hour after that.”

Bobby’s eyes bounced between the three of us where we sat at the table, “I'm surprised at you three. I really am. Sam, first off, Dean did not steal your computer.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “But I –”

“Shh, shh, shh, shh!” He hushed. I shot Sam a large grin. “Dean, Ellie did not touch your car.”

“Yeah!” She said before looking back up to Bobby, her triumphant smile faltering. “I have a feeling I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Sam did not break your iPod,” he said anyway. The three of us sat in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes. “And if you three bothered to pull your heads outta your asses, it all would have been pretty clear.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows, “What?”

“What you're dealing with.”

Sam, Ellie and I shared a look of confusion, “Uh...”

“I got nothing.”

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“You got a trickster on your hands,” Bobby said finally.

I snapped, “That's what I thought.”

“What?!” Ellie said incredulously. “No, you didn't.”

“I gotta tell you...” Bobby began, “you guys were the biggest clue.”

“What do you mean?”

“These things create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing, and it's got you so turned around and at each other's throats, you can't even think straight.”

“The laptop,” Sam said.

“The tires.”

Ellie shook her head, “The iPod.”

Bobby nodded, “It knows you're onto him, and it's been playing you like fiddles.”

“So, what is it?” I asked. “Spirit, demon, what?”

“Well, more like demigods, really. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in West Africa. Dozens of them. 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.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “You mean like an angry spirit or an alien or an alligator.”

Bobby nodded, “The victims fit the M.O., too. Tricksters target the high and the mighty, knock them down a peg, usually with a sense of humor – deadly pranks, things like that.”

“Bobby, what do these things look like?” Ellie asked.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugging, “Lots of things, but human, mostly.”

I was worried he’d say that. I glanced over to Sam and Ellie when realization hit me. I laughed shortly, “And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?”

Sam and Ellie shook their heads when finally, the realization hit them, too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Sorry I'm dragging a little ass today, kids,” the janitor said, unlocking the door for us to Crawford Hall. “Had quite the night last night.” He smirked over at Ellie. “Lots of sex, if you catch my drift.”

Ellie stared back at him unamused, “Is that supposed to make me jealous or something?”

“Did it work?”

“No.”

“Alright,” he said, defeated, leading us up the stairs.

“Listen, we won't be long. We just need to check a couple offices up on three,” Dean said.

“No problem.”

Dean gestured to me, nodding. I cleared my throat as we stopped on the first floor landing, “Damn, I, uh, forgot something in the truck. You know what? I'll catch up with you guys.”

The janitor nodded, tapping the railing, “Okay.”

I watched the three of them disappear up the next flight of stairs. I backtracked, jogging back down to the first floor and then into the basement. Using the lockpick, I pushed open the door to the janitor’s closet. I glanced around at the lockers, rifling through each one but coming up empty. Then, I rounded the corner where there was one more I hadn’t checked.

I pulled it open, a magazine falling to my feet. I picked it up, reading the headline: Aliens Abduct Cheerleaders.

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Ellie’s POV

“Just 'cause he reads the ‘Weekly World News’ doesn't mean he's our guy,” I said as we left Crawford Hall, jogging down the front steps. “I mean, Dean reads it, too.”

“I'm telling you, it's him,” Dean countered.

“Look, I just think we need some hard proof. That's all.”

Dean stopped, “Okay, another thing Bobby mentioned was that these suckers have a metabolism like an insect, a real sweet tooth.”

“Well, I didn't find any candy bars or sugar,” Sam said. “Not even Equal.”

I gave Dean the I told you so look but he only shrugged, “Eh, that's probably 'cause you missed something.”

“I don't miss things,” Sam spat out.

“Oh, right, 'cause you're Mr. Perfect.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, shifting on his feet, “What? Are you really still pissed at me 'cause of what the trickster did?”

“You been a tight ass long before that trickster showed up.”

I ran a hand down my face as Sam scoffed, “Look, just...stay here, keep an eye on the janitor. I'll go to his place to see if I can find any actual evidence before you go barging in and staking the man! Just wait till I get back, okay?” He watched Dean and I. “Okay?”

“Okay!” We said in unison.

We watched Sam walk in the other direction when Dean turned, “C’mon, let’s go back to the car.”

I stayed planted on the sidewalk, “I need to take a walk.”

“Oh, c’mon, El.”

I shook my head, taking off in the other direction.

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Dean’s POV

It was starting to get dark. I paced the sidewalk along Crawford Hall, glancing at my watch every few minutes. Eventually, I’d had enough waiting around for Sam and Ellie. I looked up at the building, sighing, “Ah, screw this.”

I pulled open the doors to the building, slipping inside. I ran up to the first floor, grabbing the wooden stake from inside my jacket. I jogged up the second flight of stairs, starting up the third when something stopped me.

I slowly turned, putting the stake back into my jacket. It was a song, coming from an auditorium down the hall. I pulled the auditorium doors open, peeking inside where, on the stage, a large bed was sitting in the middle. Two women leaned back against the pillows, smiling as I made my way down the stairs. I eyed the disco ball that rotated rhythmically on the ceiling. The women crawled forward on the bed in sync, their lingerie just barely holding them together.

“We've been waiting for you, Dean,” the dark haired woman purred.

I gulped, “Y-Y-You guys aren't real.”

The dark haired woman smiled as they stood before crossing their legs at the end of the bed, “Trust me, sugar, it's gonna feel real.”

I let out something between a choke and a laugh. The blonde woman leaned forward, “Come on. Let us give you a massage.”

“Wha...” I began, at a loss for words. My eyes travelled up their legs. “You know, I'm a – I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Really, I am, but...I- I'm gonna have to pass.”

“They're a peace offering,” a voice said from behind me. I turned to where the Trickster was leaning back in one of the theater seats. “I know what you and your siblings do. I've been around a while. Run into your kind before.”

“Well, then you know that I can't let you keep hurting people.”

He threw his head back, exasperated, “Come on! Those people got what was coming to them. Hoisted on their own petards. But you, Ellie and Sam – 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 glanced back at the women who were now pulling the straps from their shoulders. I let out a sigh, looking back to the Trickster who had pulled a candy bar from his janitor’s outfit. “Yeah, I don't think I can let you do that.”

“I don't wanna hurt you,” he said, taking a bite. “And you know that I can.”

“Look, man, I– I gotta tell you, I dig your style, alright? I mean, I do. I mean...” I looked back at the women again, chuckling. “And the slow-dancing alien–”

The Trickster laughed, throwing his head back, “One of my personal favorites!”

I laughed lightly, playing into the Trickster’s ego. “But, uh, I can't let you go.”

“Too bad. Like I said, I like you,” he said, suddenly becoming serious. “Sam was right. You shouldn't've come alone.”

I tsked, “Well, I'll agree with you there.”

The auditorium doors opened. Ellie, Sam and Bobby stepped into the room, each with a wooden stake in hand. The Trickster furrowed his eyebrows, turning toward them and then back to me, “That fight you guys had outside – that was a trick?” I smirked, shrugging. He squinted at me, slowly nodding in approval. “Hm. Not bad. But you want to see a real trick?”

With a snap of his fingers, two large men wielding chainsaws appeared behind Sam and Ellie, slicing the blade toward them. Sam dropped to the floor, just barely missing the blade and Ellie dodged the guy’s aim.

I propelled myself toward the Trickster, bringing the stake up over my head but my arm was grabbed by the dark haired woman, forcing it back down. She twisted it behind me, throwing me clean across the room and against the bed frame. I rolled onto my back, groaning at the impact.

From my line of sight, I watched as the man with the chainsaw behind Ellie stuck it into the wall where she’d been not seconds before. Sam was struggling, trying to maneuver between seats. Bobby came up behind the man, raising his stake, but the chain saw cut clean through it, slicing it into two pieces.

The blonde woman lifted me up by my shirt, pulling me to my feet before sending a fist sailing across my face. I stumbled backwards into the arms of the dark haired woman who punched me across the other cheek.

After being tossed between them, they both grabbed me by the collar, lifting me like I weighed nothing and chucked me from the stage. I collided with the auditorium seats, groaning as I pulled myself halfway up.

The Trickster laughed, “Nice toss, ladies! Nice show.”

Ellie had just sunk her stake into the chest of the man with the chainsaw and Sam was rushing toward the second who was quickly gaining on Bobby. He tackled him to the floor, pushing the stake into his back. However, the men slowly rose again, the chainsaws coming back to life, too.

“Dean...Dean, Dean, Dean,” the Trickster tutted as he stood. I held my side where it connected painfully with the plastic chairs. Sam quickly turned toward me, eyes widening as the Trickster stood up. “I did not want to have to do this.”

Sam quickly slid his stake across the floor. I scooped it up into my hands, standing. The Trickster was right above me and hardly had any time to move before I shoved the stake into the middle of his chest.

“Me neither,” I said. The Trickster grunted, his eyebrows cinching together almost like he was confused. I pushed the stake in deeper. The two men with chainsaws instantly vanished, followed by the two women on stage.

I yanked the stake out of the Trickster’s chest, watching as he collapsed back onto his chair. Sam, Ellie and Bobby stood next to me. I wiped the blood from my lip, “You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded.

“Well, I gotta say...he had style,” I laughed, wincing at the pain that radiated throughout my body.

Ellie patted my back, “We should get outta here.”

I nodded, trailing slightly behind as they jogged up the auditorium stairs. We burst through the building’s doors, racing toward the Impala parked outside.

“Bobby, thanks a lot. We really couldn't've—”

“Hey, save it!” Bobby said, cutting Ellie off. “Let's just get the hell out of dodge before somebody finds that body.”

Bobby slid into the backseat, but Sam stopped, looking to Ellie and I, “Look, you guys, um...I just want to say that I'm, uh...”

“Hey,” I said. He didn’t have to say it. “Me too.”

Ellie nodded, “Me too.”

We shared one last look to each other before Bobby popped out of the backseat, “You guys are breaking my heart. Could we please just leave?”

I glanced back at the building as we slid into the car. I quickly turned the key over, speeding away from Crawford Hall.

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PREVIOUS: BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN

NEXT: ROADKILL

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur | @artemisandromedaathena-blog

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12 | @breereadsthings | @slytherinrising

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Hollywood Babylon

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie travel to Hollywood to investigate the death of an actor on a horror film set after rumors spread that he was killed by a ghost.

Disclaimers: death, blood

Word Count: 8K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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I was sure the rickety golfcart was bound to collapse under us with all the people packed onto it. I shifted uncomfortably on the pleather as I listened to the tour guide go on about the Hollywood stages we were passing, “First opened in 1927, the lot has been in continuous operation for eight decades.”

“Hey, you know this is where they filmed ‘Creepshow’?” Dean said excitedly from behind Sam and me. I glanced over my shoulder to where he was sitting next to a kid. The kid glared over at him before going back to his ice cream.

“Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow. It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls,” the tour guide went on. I looked across Sam at the small town setting. “And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars.”

I rolled my eyes, having just about had enough of the woman’s high pitched voice. I nudged Sam, nodding out of the golfcart, “Come on.”

Sam and I easily stepped from the slow moving cart, but Dean furrowed his eyebrows from where he still sat, “Let's finish the tour!”

“Dean!”

He groaned, leaving his seat, and following us as we began to walk in between the numerous stages. Dean looked thrilled, his smile stretching from ear to ear. “Hey, check it out, it's Matt Damon!”

I looked over to where he was pointing to a man leaning up against a wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Sam let out a short laugh, “Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not Matt Damon.”

“No, it is,” Dean insisted.

“Well, Matt Damon just picked up a broom and started sweeping,” He chuckled.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, shrugging, “Yeah, well, he's probably researching a role or something.”

“Ahhh, I don't think so,” I said. The stages were numbered, and as we walked, we were quickly approaching where our next case all started. “Hey, this way. I think Stage 9 is over here.”

“Come on, El, let's keep going this way,” Dean urged, pointing in the other direction.

“No, come on, we've gotta work,” I said. Dean let out an exasperated groan. “Dean, you wanted to come to L.A.”

“Yeah, for a vacation,” he clarified. “I mean, swimming pools and movie stars! Not to work.”

I scoffed as I looked up at the cloudy sky, “This seem like swimming pool weather to you, Dean? I mean, it's practically Canadian.”

“Yeah. I just figured that, you know, after everything that happened with...Madison, y-you could use a little R-and-R, that's all.”

I pushed down the feelings that came with her name, wanting to avoid opening that can of worms for as long as I could. “Well, I’m telling you both now that I want to work. It keeps my mind off things.”

“Okay, okay, alright,” Sam said finally.

“So, this crew guy,” I began, looking over to Sam, quick to change the subject, “did he die on set?”

Sam nodded as we dodged a passing golfcart filled with sound equipment, “Yeah, uh, rumors spreading like wildfire online. They're saying the set's haunted.”

“Like ‘Poltergeist’?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, “Could be a poltergeist.”

“No, no, no. Like, the movie ‘Poltergeist’,” he clarified. Sam shrugged again and I snickered at Dean’s stoic face. “You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you? 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.”

“Well, yeah, it might be something like that.”

Dean nodded excitedly, “Alright, so this crew guy – what's his name?

“Frank Jaffey,” I said, recalling his obituary.

“Frank Jaffey – he got a death certificate or a coroner's report or anything?”

“Well, no. But it's L.A., you know? It might not even be his real name,” I pointed out. “But the girl who found him, she said she saw something: a vanishing figure.”

“What's the girl's name?”

I wracked my brain, “Uh, Tara Benchley?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley?” Dean said, suddenly stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. His eyes were wide. Sam and I shared a confused glance as Dean continued to geek out. “From ‘Fear dot Com’ and ‘Ghost Ship’, Tara Benchley? Why didn't you say so?”

I laughed shortly, “So now you're suddenly on board?”

Dean hesitated, scoffing, shaking his head, “Oh, I just – I mean, I'm a fan of her work. It's- it’s very good.”

He quickly turned away but swore I could see the smile plastered on his face from the back of his head as we made our way to Stage 9.

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We ducked into Stage 9 just as the large garage-like door was beginning to close. We looked up at the tall walls, marveling at the sets that were built inside. I glanced at the hats of the crew rushing past, catching the name of the movie they were making: ‘Hell Hazers 2’.

“This is kind of ruining movies for me,” I said when a voice rang out amongst the chaos of the studio.

“Uh, excuse me, Green Shirt Guy?” It called. We turned to where a man in a suit was gesturing toward us. Dean wrinkled his eyebrows, glancing around us before pointing to himself questioningly. The man in the suit nodded, waving him over. “Yeah, you. Come here.”

Dean approached the guy, confused. “Can you get me a smoothie from Craft?”

I began to laugh at Dean’s confusion, but Sam came to Dean’s rescue. Dean’s eyebrows were furrowed, “You want a what from who?”

“You are a P.A.? This is what you do?” The man in the suit insinuated.

“Yeah, yeah...he uh...” Sam said once he made his way to Dean. He patted his shoulder, turning him away. “One smoothie coming right up.”

“You couldn’t have let him suffer just a little bit more?” I asked Sam, laughing.

“What's a P.A.?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged as we continued to explore the rest of Stage 9, “I think they're kinda like slaves.”

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Dean’s POV

I carried a tray of smoothies around the set, trying to “blend in” like Ellie had told me to before her and Sam went to try to dig up some more on the history of the place. I nodded at the rush of people moving from every direction, their hands darting out randomly to grab at the smoothies on the tray.

I glanced up at the scaffolding that reached upward toward the high ceilings. It was where the crew member’s body had been found, hanging from the rafters. I set the smoothies on a table next to me, taking the EMF detector from my pocket. I glanced over my shoulders before ascending the metal stairs.

Then, the lights went out. I looked up, confused, a loud bell ringing throughout the stage.

“Why don't we take it from, uh...’Come on, it'll be fun’,” the director called to the group of actors in front of him and from where I stood, I had a clear view of Tara Benchley. “And, action!”

I had to tear my eyes away from her as I continued climbing the stairs, whirring the small device to life. I clicked on my flashlight, keeping low against the stairs. Once I made it to the top, I held the EMF meter out, but the lights stayed lifeless.

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Once the lights clicked on and filming had finished, at least for now, I made my way back down the scaffolding and back toward the tables filled with food. I was hovering over a plate of sandwiches when Sam and Ellie approached.

“So?” Sam asked.

I shrugged, talking around the food stuffed in my mouth, “No EMF anywhere.”

“Great,” Ellie said sarcastically. “So, what do you think?”

“Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But...the food these people get, are you kidding me? I mean look at these things,” I picked up one of the sandwiches, showing it to them. “They're like miniature Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. They're delicious.”

I held one out toward Sam who grimaced at it, “Maybe later.” Ellie shrugged, taking it from my hand, nodding in approval as she took a bite from it.

I took another bite of mine, “What'd you find out about the dead crew guy?”

“Uh...Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day,” Sam said, wrinkling his eyebrows at us. “Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything.”

“Oh, great. So you found out about as much as I did.”

Ellie shook her head, “No, not quite. I—”

“Hey, guys,” one of the P.A.’s said, cutting her off as he stepped between us, grabbing one of the sandwiches. “Sorry.”

“That's alright,” I said, calling after him as he began to walk away. “They're wonderful!”

“Listen, we did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history,” Ellie finished, pulling my attention back to her.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Two suicides and two fatal accidents.”

“Anyone of those could be a vengeful spirit.”

Sam nodded in agreement, “Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more.”

From across the room, I spotted a woman in a tiny pink shirt rounding the corner. My heart picked up a little at the sight of Tara. “I'll get right on that.”

I swallowed the rest of the sandwich, pushing past Sam and Ellie and approached Tara, grabbing a script from a crew member passing by.

My nerves started to kick in as I stepped closer to her where she was now sitting in a chair, scrolling through her phone. I hesitated, “Are- are you supposed to get one of these?” She looked up from her phone, confused. I gulped. Thee Tara Benchley was sitting right in front of me. When I realized she hadn’t said anything and I was staring awkwardly at her, I fumbled. “I– I don't really know what I'm doing.”

She smiled, “First day?”

“Yeah. My big break,” I laughed nervously, twisting the script in my hands. I felt like a freaking thirteen year old. “You know, I know it's...really uncool to say this, but I– I'm a big fan. I loved you in ‘Boogeyman’.”

Tara laughed, easing some of my nerves, “Oh, God, what a terrible script. But thank you.”

Awkward silence settled over us again and I knew I had to get some information on the dead guy. If I didn’t, who knows when I’d be this close to her again. I struggled with how to bring it up, settling for just blurting it out, “You found him, right? The...the dead guy?”

Her face shifted into pain as she tore her eyes away from mine. I stumbled over my words again, sensing her discomfort, “I'm sorry, you probably don't even wanna talk about this.”

“No, no, actually. It's – it's okay,” she said. “Nobody around here really brings it up very much. I think they're all scared I'm gonna have some kind of breakdown.”

“That must have been awful,” I said. “What happened?”

“It was horrible. There – there was all this blood coming from…” she paused, motioning to her face. “His eyes and from his mouth. And, uh...I saw this, um...”

I watched as she hesitated again, laughing softly to herself as if she thought what she was about to say was completely crazy. I leaned forward slightly, “What?”

“I saw this shape,” she said finally. “To tell you the truth, I– I don't know actually, what I saw. I just know I saw it.”

“Here you go, Tara,” a voice interjected. The man handed her a drink. It was the same guy who stepped between me, Sam and Ellie at the food table.

“Thanks, Walter,” she smiled.

I watched the guy as he scurried away, “Uh – so, this, this crew guy, Frank - did you know him?”

She shrugged, shaking her head, “No, not that well.”

“It's funny, it's like no one around here actually knew the guy.”

“I've got his picture.”

I raised my eyebrows at this, “You do?”

“Yeah. I take Polaroids of all the crew,” she said as she grabbed the album from her bag that was slung across the back of the chair. “It's just one of those things you do to kill time on set.” She flipped through the pages. “Um...right there.”

I leaned forward over the album, examining the picture Tara was pointing to. I zeroed in on the guy next to her in the picture, a twinge of recognition in my gut until it hit me. “Son of a bitch.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“You really think it’s him?” I questioned Dean as we approached this guy’s front door. “I mean, it’s pretty farfetched, even for us.”

“Did you see the guy, El?” Dean said, referring to the picture he’d taken on his phone of Tara’s Polaroid and then compared it to a picture of this actor Dean looked up on Google.

I shifted, still unconvinced as Sam knocked on the door, “Plenty of people have doppelgangers—”

The door was pulled open and I widened my eyes slightly. There was no mistaking now that this guy was the one in Tara’s picture. Dean shot me a look and I could practically hear him say I told you so.

“Gerard St. James?” Sam asked.

The man, whose gray hair was pulled back into a short ponytail looked between the three of us in confusion, “Yes?”

“You're still alive,” I said. “And you're not Frank Jaffey.”

Gerard furrowed his eyebrows, “Uh, no?”

“You were Desert Soldier Number Four in ‘Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn’?” Dean went on, smirking.

“I was,” Gerard confirmed.

Dean snapped, laughing, “I knew I recognized you! I am a huge fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in ‘Critters 3’—”

“’Critters 3’!” Gerard said at the same time, beaming with at the flattery. He opened the door the rest of the way for us. “Well, please, come in.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, leaning toward Sam, “Did that really just work on this guy?”

“Yep,” Sam said, shaking his head as we followed Dean into the house.

From how he was living in southern California, it seemed like the guy made a decent living for being a D-list celebrity. I glanced around at the tall ceilings and the intricate, abstract artwork that decorated the walls.

“Take a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the leather couch and matching chairs before he retreated into the kitchen where he placed a tea kettle on the stove.

Sam glanced at the wall of black and white pictures on the wall, all of them of Gerard in various costumes and makeup. I pulled the stack of magazines toward me that were in the middle of the coffee table. I flipped through each one, quickly realizing they all had something in common: Gerard was in every single one, whether it was a small blurb from an interview or a picture of him filming some kind of movie.

“Real humble, this guy,” I whispered to Dean as Gerard came back into the room, handing us each a cup of tea.

“So, I’m sure I know why you’re here,” he said as he settled into a chair. Sam down across from Dean and me. “It was the producers. They brought me up for the day to play Frank.”

“Just to fake your death?” Dean questioned.

“Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie,” he said, laughing lightly. “I mean, it's already all over the Internet.”

“Yeah. We know,” Sam said.

“These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new ‘lonelygirl’.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows, squinting at him, “Who?”

“And the ghost Tara saw?” Sam interjected.

He didn’t seem to see any issue with what he was being used for. Gerard sipped from his cup, shrugging, “Projected on a screen of diffusion.”

“Isn't that kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?” Dean asked.

“Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theater production of ‘Salesman’ at Costa Mesa, all next month.” He sifted through a stack of papers on the coffee table before pulling one out, handing it to Dean. “You get a free pepper steak with the coupon.”

I chuckled lightly, “Now, wait a second. If you're seen in public, won't that ruin the hoax?”

“Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters.”

Sam sighed, probably already having heard enough, “You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. It was just nagging at us, you know? But we're – we're very glad that you're alive and well.”

Gerard nodded as he stood, shaking each of our hands when Dean paused, “Hey, I wanted to ask you...what was it like working with Richard Moll?” Sam and I shot him a confused look. Dean noticed our looks, his sheepish smile faltering slightly. “He’s from ‘Metalstorm’. He was Hurok, King of the Cyclops people.

“Gentlemen's gentleman,” Gerard said vaguely.

“Yeah?” Dean chuckled, nodding as he held up the coupon. “I’ll take you up on that pepper steak!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I stuffed another taquito in my mouth, adjusting the headset over my head as the lights in the studio dimmed. I leaned up against the wall, watching intently as the scene unfolded.

Mitch, one of the lead characters, entered the house setup once the director called action, “Wendy?”

“Oh, Mitch!” Tara exclaimed in character. “God, you're alive!”

“You can't get rid of me that easy.”

“Rumble, rumble, rumble!” The director called from behind a few monitors and the set instantly began to shake slightly. I widened my eyes, taking another bite of the taquito.

“Salt. Okay, we need salt,” Tara said. “I read in that book that it keeps ghosts away.”

The guy playing Mitch nodded, turning to the other two actors, “Kendra, Logan, you guys check the back.”

“Jay, the poor bastard killed himself. Like, for real,” one of the crew members next to me whispered to the producer. “Shouldn't we shut it down or something?”

Jay shrugged, “We had a moment of silence for him at breakfast. He was just a studio guy.”

“Shh!” The director hushed, glancing at them over his shoulder before turning back to the monitors.

“I love you,” Tara’s character, Wendy, said to Mitch.

“I know,” Mitch said.

Tara squinted around the light the actor was accidentally shining in her eyes. He quickly pulled it away, “Sorry.”

Tara sighed, resting a hand on her forehead, “Can we – can we cut or something?”

“Um… yeah, cut!” The director called out to the group.

“That's a cut!” I yelled out, shrugging as I took another bite, eavesdropping on their conversation.

The director approached Tara, “Hey, what's up?”

“I'm sorry. I'm just a little upset,” Tara said, wrapping her arms around herself.

The director nodded, "Well, with everything that's been going on around here, who can blame ya, huh?”

“I, I– I just can't wrap my head around the dialog, you know? Salt?” She asked. “Doesn't that sound silly? I mean, why would a ghost be afraid of salt?” I laughed to myself, downing another taquito before turning and grabbing a few more from the Craft table.

“Marty?” The director called to the guy who’d been whispering to Jay. “What do you think?”

“Not married to salt, what do you want?” Marty asked. “We still sticking with condiments?”

“It just sounds different, not better,” the director said, shaking his head as he folded his arms. “What else would a ghost be scared of?”

“Oh, you've gotta be kidding me,” the guy in front of me mumbled. I frowned as I looked up at him. It was Walter, watching their conversation intently, the script rolled in his hands.

“Maybe, uh, maybe shotguns.”

The director turned toward Tara before stopping and turning back to Marty, “Okay, that makes even less sense than salt.”

Walter sighed, bringing his hands down from his hair and dropping them at his sides. He shook his head, brushing past me as he left the set, “These people are idiots.”

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I came from behind the set, glancing at a P.A. as he rushed by. Dean smirked at us, “Walter's a little testy for a P.A., huh?”

“How's it going in here?” Sam asked.

“It’s going really good, man. Tara's really stepped up her performance,” Dean nodded, pointing to her with a half-eaten taquito. “I think it's probably from all the sense-memory stuff she's drawing on.”

“Sense-memory?” I asked, wrinkling my eyebrows in confusion and even more so when I noticed he’d changed shirts. Now he was wearing a Hell Hazers crew member shirt. “Where’d you even get that?”

Dean beamed, looking down at it, “It’s cool, right?”

Sam scoffed, “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.”

He glanced down at the black belt secured around his waist that held a battery pack that his headset was connected to, a roll of tape and a walkie talkie. “I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?” He smiled before offering his plate to us. “Oh, taquito? They're wonderful.”

Sam grimaced at the food, “No. Umm…listen, I conned my way into the morgue.”

“And?”

“News reports were right,” I said. “Brad's a doornail, no question.”

Dean seemed to be drowning out what I was saying as he spoke into the headset, “Copy that.” He turned back to. “I'm sorry, what?”

“’Copy that’?” Sam questioned.

He held the headset away from his ear, “What’d you say?”

“The news reports were right,” I repeated in confusion. “Brad's a—”

“They are aware,” Dean said harshly to the person he was talking to through the headset, moving the microphone away from his mouth.

Sam’s squinted at him, “Who's aware?”

“I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

I sighed, clenching my jaw and quickly spoke this time in an attempt to get it all out before I was interrupted again, “The newspaper's right: Brad's a doornail, no question about it.”

“I guess it's a good thing we didn't skip town,” Dean said. Suddenly, he turned away from us, motioning toward the other side of the set. “Oh, come here. I want you to hear something.”

Sam and I followed Dean where he stopped next to a guy at a sound table. “Hey, Dave. Can you play them that thing you were playing me earlier?”

“Sure,” Dave said, handing Sam and I each a pair of headphones. I pulled them on, listening carefully as the recording began to play.

“It doesn't matter. We're not leaving ‘til we find Wendy and her sister,” the voice said. It was one of the actors during the last scene they shot. I was glancing at Dean, confused as to why we needed to hear this when the audio suddenly turned to static.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“EVP,” I said as we walked toward the exit of Stage 9.

Dean nodded, “From the night of Brad's stage dive. All of a sudden, I'm getting electromagnetic readings up the wazoo. For some reason, it's a legit haunting now.”

“Well, who's the ghost, Dean?” Sam asked. “What's it want?”

“I don't know,” he admitted. “I think we should take a look at Brad's death scene.”

We stepped outside, following Dean who seemed to know his way around the place like he’d been working here for years. I eyed him, trying to keep up with their long strides. “Where are we going?”

Sam and I dodged a woman on a small, electric bike but Dean kept walking, jogging up the few steps to a trailer, pulling the door open.

Dean instantly went to the DVD player, sliding a disc inside. I glanced around the roomy trailer, nodding in approval as I sunk into the leather couch, “Nice digs.”

“You should see some of the lead actors’,” he said to me over his shoulder. “Biggest bathtub you’ve ever seen—”

“Alright, can we get on with this, please?” Sam asked. Dean nodded, sitting on the edge of the coffee table as he fast forwarded through the footage. “Where'd you get this DVD anyway?”

“They're called dailies. I got it from Cindy. She's kind of got this on-and-off thing going with Drew. He dubbed me an extra copy,” he said as if it were the most obvious answer. He pulled the headset from his head, letting it rest around his neck. “Alright, here's where the guy fell through the roof…okay, here we go.”

Dean paused the video before playing it again. It was a close up shot of one of the actresses before the roof of the set behind her caved in. She turned, screaming at Brad’s writhing body that was hanging from the ceiling. The camera panned to him and the angle changed to show the entire set before the footage cut off completely.

“Hey, wait, go back, go back,” I said quickly, nudging Dean’s arm. He rewound the footage. “Yeah…wait.” He paused it again on a still image. I squinted at the screen where a woman dressed in a long white gown was standing just to the right of the shot. I pointed at the TV. “There.”

“It's like ‘Three Men and a Baby’ all over again,” Dean said. “Selleck, Danson, and Guttenberg. And...I don't know who played the baby.”

“What's your point?” Sam asked.

“There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography.”

Sam frowned as he looked back to the screen, leaning in closer to the blurry picture of the woman, “I've seen her before.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam, Dean and I sat at a high table where a few crew members were painting sets. I watched Dean replacing the batteries in his walkie talkie while Sam rifled through some papers he’d printed.

“Here. Check this out,” Sam said, sliding an article between me and Dean.

I leaned over the table, recognizing the girl in the black and white picture as the same girl from the footage, “What happened to—”

“Yeah, go for Ozzy,” Dean cut me off as he spoke into his headset. He smirked excitedly at us. “No, I don't have a 20 on Tara, I think she's 10-100…Okay, copy that.” He placed the walkie talkie back on the table. “I'm sorry, what were you saying?”

Sam rolled his eyes, tapping the article, “Elise Drummond – starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting.”

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?”

“Possibly. I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly.”

I sighed as I sat back in my chair, knowing where this was headed next, “We're digging tonight, aren't we?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Which way?” I asked Dean as we entered the cemetery. I adjusted the duffle on my shoulder, shining my flashlight over the headstones.

Dean glanced down at the map, “Uh...over here.” He took a left before stopping. “Hey.”

I looked up at the large statue of humpty dumpty sitting on the edge of a headstone. Dean grinned, “This map is totally worth the five bucks! Hey, we've gotta go check out Johnny Ramone's grave when we're done here.”

“You wanna dig him up, too?” Sam asked.

“Bite your tongue, heathen!” Dean countered, shining his light over a statue of a man playing a guitar as we passed. “Oh, that's cool.”

There was something bugging me about this case and everything having to do with Elise. I furrowed my eyebrows as I thought about it, “You know what I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?”

Dean shrugged, “Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick.”

“Come on, is it really that scary?” Sam asked.

Dean stopped in front of a headstone, his light shining over Elise’s name, “Yahtzee.” I dropped the duffle bag to the ground, taking one of the shovels from Sam as we began to dig into her grave.

After what felt like forever of just digging and switching out between taking breaks, Dean hit something solid with his shovel. I pulled myself up and out of the ground, wiping away the sweat on my forehead. Dean cracked the coffin open with a crowbar, revealing the skeletal remains of a woman buried inside.

Sam passed me the salt. I sprinkled it over her body as Sam sprayed it with lighter fluid. Dean climbed out of the grave, standing next to us as he pulled his lighter from his pocket, flicked it open and threw it down onto Elise’s body.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the past week, getting any kind of sleep seemed nearly impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was her. The way she looked under the moonlight. Her hands on my skin. The way she glanced over her shoulder at me. The look in her eyes when I had to kill her.

I tossed and turned, unable to let my mind stay in that good place because it always wandered to the dark one. I sat up in bed, running my hands over my arms, looking over to Sam who was asleep on his stomach. When I looked over to the other side of the room in the second bed, however, Dean was gone, the covers thrown back.

I slowly stood, glancing into the bathroom, but he wasn’t there, either. I suddenly started to get flashbacks to when Sam left to go to Indiana by himself. My eyes instantly went to the chain lock on the door which was always secured in place but now was dangling against the doorframe. My fears were eased when I pulled back the curtain against the window. Dean was finishing off a beer out on the sidewalk.

I pulled my jacket on and slid my shoes on my feet. Dean glanced over his shoulder at me as I stepped outside, my breath coming out in smoke.

“What’re you doing up?” He asked.

I pulled the jacket tighter around myself. “Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Yeah, me either.”

I nodded as we watched the traffic rushing past. It was a comfortable silence even though I knew what was coming next.

“You doin’ alright?” Dean asked, not looking over at me. I knew it was his way of trying to be as casual as he could while also checking up on me.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, half-jokingly.

Dean glanced over at me, “I’m serious.”

I sighed, taking my lip between my teeth, “I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask—” Dean began when he was cut off by the motel door swinging open.

Dean and I turned to Sam who poked his head out the door, holding up the police scanner, “It happened again.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Crime scene tape was surrounding the set where the producer, Jay, was killed; however it didn’t do much to keep people from staring as law enforcement worked. A white screen that was propped up in the middle of the set was now coated in blood spatter, bits of flesh clinging to it.

“Run-in with a giant fan,” Sam scoffed. “Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard.”

“What the hell,” Dean said, shaking his head.

“Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O,” I said as we turned away from the crime scene, pushing our way through the crowd that was beginning to form.

“No, we already torched her,” Dean pointed out. “So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?”

Sam looked uncertain, “Maybe, but these things don't usually tag-team.”

As we left Stage 9, we heard the unmistakable voice of the director from the other side of the lot. We followed the group of crew members as they formed a circle around him.

“Everybody! Gather around, okay! I've got an announcement to make. Everyone! Huddle in!” He called to the group.

I leaned in toward Dean, “Oh, this oughta be good.”

“In light of Jay's accident last night, and in cooperation with the authorities, we're shutting down production for a few days,” he announced, eliciting a collective groan from the crew members. “I know, I know. Look, I'm not gonna lie to you. We've had a few setbacks this week.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at the sentiment, the collective nods from people around us as the director went on. “But we all know what Jay and Brad wanted more than anything. And that was to see ‘Hell Hazers 2: The Reckoning’ on screens all across America!” The crew erupted in a collective applause. “Now, we owe it to them to go on, and to pull together and make this damn movie, huh?”

The crew began clapping louder, some of them cheering. Sam, Dean and I shared a look of confusion as the director held his hand out to the excited group, trying to calm them down, “But – but but but not today. Go home. Someone will call you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was nearly falling asleep in the leather armchair of the trailer Sam and I were in, my eyes drooping slowly as the dailies played on the TV.

“Wendy, don't,” one of the characters pleaded. I lifted my eyelid, reminding myself we were supposed to be watching for any more spirits caught on camera.

“What are you, afraid of ghosts?” Tara’s character chuckled. “Come on, it'll be fun.”

The door to the trailer opened followed by Dean, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Sam said. I sat up in the chair, stretching my limbs. “So, you find out where the electrician's buried?”

“He wasn't,” Dean said, grabbing a water from the fridge. “Billy Beard was cremated.”

I huffed, falling back against the chair, “Great. Now what?”

“No idea. Any more ghost cameos in the dailies?”

“Not in the first six hours,” Sam sighed. “You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie 'cause they think it sucks. 'Cause, I mean, it kind of does.”

I nodded in agreement as Dean sat down next to Sam on the couch. We watched the footage as Tara’s character picked up a book and began to recite something from it. Something that sounded like Latin.

Sam slowly sat upright, squinting as Tara’s voice came through the speakers. “Listen to the invocation. That's the real deal – a necromantic summoning ritual.”

I raised my eyebrows, the new information piquing my interest. “What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We walked the long hallway down a business building, rounding into a room where a woman was already scraping Jay’s name off his office door on the other side of the hallway. Marty, the writer of the movie was talking on his Bluetooth in his ear, pacing the short length of the office space.

“Yeah. Alright, well look, get back to me on this, alright?” He said. When he noticed us, he flashed a tight-lipped smile, holding up his pointer finger. “Seriously…no, I'm serious…dude, are you serious? 'Cause I'm serious. Alright. Cool.” He pressed his finger to the Bluetooth and then turned to us. “Guys, we're all shut down. What are you still doing here?”

“Yeah, um...sorry, man. We– we couldn't help ourselves,” Sam said. “We just had to tell you that we read the script.”

Marty’s mouth turned into a bright smile. He leaned against the edge of his desk, “And?”

“It's – uh – it's awesome,” Sam said with fake enthusiasm.

“Awesome,” I agreed. “Really awesome.”

Marty beamed, “I know, it's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I really liked, uh, all the attention to detail,” Dean chimed in.

“Dude, right on, that's my thing! I mean, you know, color me guilty, but that is me. I'm a total detail buff!”

“No, I can tell,” I smiled, getting to the kicker. “I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language.”

Marty furrowed his eyebrows, his smile faltering, “What, you mean that Latin crap? No, dude, that's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?”

“Wait, ‘Walter the P.A.’ Walter?” Dean asked in confusion.

“No, he's not a P.A. He's got a clause in his contract that allows him to come on set,” Marty said, rounding the desk and sitting in the chair.

“But he wrote the invocations?”

“He wrote a whack-job screenplay,” Marty clarified. “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.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Should've kept Walter's original script,” I said, flipping through the pages. “It's actually pretty good.”

“Yeah. 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,” Sam said, throwing his copy onto the table between us.

Dean nodded in agreement, “Yeah, like kill people.”

“Yep. So, let's say somewhere down the line, Walter learned some pretty black magic.”

“Yeah. And let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie.”

I closed the script, looking at the two of them, “Motive and means. It's worth checking out.”

Once the words left my lips, a guttural scream echoed from Stage 9 and flowing all the way outside where we were sitting. We quickly stood from the table, rushing toward the building. I tried the side door, but it was locked.

“Oh, God, no! Please, no!” The voice inside continued to scream.

“You ruined it, Marty! Everything I worked for!”

“You guys keep trying, I’ll go get the shotgun!” Dean yelled to us.

Sam and I ran around the building, trying a few more doors, the screaming inside becoming even louder. Then, finally, Sam found a back entrance that was left half open. We ran inside, following the pleas for help when finally, we made it to the set where Marty was on the ground, being dragged toward a huge fan with swinging metal blades by a man with half his face blown away.

“Oh, God! Walter!” Marty screamed, clawing at the floor, trying to pull his foot out of the spirit’s grasp.

There was a man standing behind him, just watching as the scene unfolded. A talisman dangled between his fingertips. It was Walter. “Now you're gonna find out what being a ghost is really like.”

“Walter, please! Walter, help me!—”

“Duck!” Dean shouted from behind us. Sam and I quickly dropped as the shotgun round flew through the air and nailed the spirit who disappeared in a cloud of smoke. I stood, running toward the fan, pulling the plug from the wall.

“You are one hell of a P.A,” Marty panted as he looked up at Dean from the floor.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, helping him off the ground.

Sam was approaching Walter who suddenly didn’t seem so confident. He trembled, taking a step backward for every one Sam took advancing on him, “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Walter,” Sam said. Walter quickly turned, running up the stairs of the scaffolding. “Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you? That's playing with fire, Walter!”

“You don't understand,” he said once he reached the second level and beginning to climb to the third.

“You know what? You're right, I don't understand.”

Walter finally stopped when he made it to the third level, “Just...wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then – and then they want you to smile and say, ‘thank you’.”

“Walter, listen,” I said, eyeing the talisman in his hand that he’d been using to summon the damn things. “It's just a movie. That's it.”

“Look...I've got nothing against you guys. You're not part of this. Please, please, just leave,” Walter begged. His eyes travelled from us and over to Marty. “But Marty's gotta stay.”

“Sorry, can't do that,” Dean called up to him. “It's not that we like him or anything, it's...just a matter of principle.”

Walter slowly nodded, “Then I'm sorry, too.”

We watched as he held the talisman over the edge of the scaffolding threateningly. I tensed, watching as Sam took a tentative step backward, “Walter. Walter, don’t.”

Walter only gritted his teeth as he began to recite a Latin incantation. I glanced behind me where a large wooden wheel as part of the set began to move on its own. Then, the entire building started to shake. Whispers of spirits filled the room. We slowly rotated, trying to see from every angle.

“Sam! Come on!” Dean called over to him. Sam shot one last glare up at Walter before coming to stand next to me, Dean and Marty. Then, a spirit flickered ahead of us, the man that tried to kill Marty. Then, on his right, a woman appeared, her skin burned off her flesh. A third spirit came, a man in a suit with a bullet wound right between his eyes and half his arm missing.

Dean held up his shotgun and suddenly I felt more useless than ever as the spirits slowly approached. Dean ground his teeth, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get a shot at them unless they were closer, “Come on, come on!” Then, right before they were close enough for Dean to shoot, they disappeared.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Where’d they go?”

My question was answered when Sam was flung across the room. He skidded over the floor. Dean, Marty and I raced toward him. Dean grabbed him by his arm, lifting him to his feet, “Let’s go! Move!”

We sprinted from the set, dodging the exploding camera lights that shattered over us. Dean blindly shot behind him as we approached a cabin. Sam threw the door open and we rushed through. Sam slammed it shut again, throwing his back up against it.

Dean grumbled in annoyance as he opened the shotgun, “’Come out to the coast! We'll get together, have a few laughs!’”

“You’re quoting ‘Die Hard’ right now!?” I asked incredulously. I rested my hands on my hips, looking around the cabin for anything of use when I stopped, noticing the wall on the other side of the room that was nonexistent. It was a fucking set. Of course, it was a fucking set. “You’re kidding me.”

“I can't believe this,” Marty panted. He was gripping onto the wall like his life depended on it, his eyes wide. “Ghosts are real!”

“What makes you say that?” Dean said sarcastically, pulling rock salt rounds from his pocket and sliding them into the shotgun.

“But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?” Marty asked. It was a good question.

Sam was panting too, “Probably that talisman.”

I shook my head, stopping when Sam felt around his pockets before pulling his phone out. I wrinkled my eyebrows in confusion, “What are you doing?”

“I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then...maybe…” He lifted the phone, pointing the camera around the room when suddenly, his eyes widened, pointing to the corner of the set. “Dean! Right there!”

Dean shot blindly in that direction. I glanced over Sam’s shoulder as he continued to scan the room, another one appearing on the screen. “Hey! Right there!”

Dean shot again, blowing the sucker away. The sound of heavy footfalls made the four of us look up to where Walter was running across the scaffolding. He handed the phone over to me, “Here. Alright, you hold them off. I'm going after Walter.”

“I cannot believe there's an afterlife,” Marty mumbled from behind Dean and me as Sam chased after Walter.

“Oh, there's an afterlife, alright,” Dean said. “But mostly, it's a pain in the ass.”

I continued to scan the room when the girl with the singed face appeared, “There!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

It wasn’t hard to figure out where Walter was headed. The scaffolding ultimately ended up in one place: the exit of Stage 9. I took numerous shortcuts, hearing Walter’s footsteps get closer and closer to the stage door. I’d just made it to the exit when Walter burst through it, checking over his shoulder, paranoid before freezing when he saw me.

“It's over, Walter,” I said, holding my hand out. “Now give it to me.”

Walter looked down at the talisman in his hand before throwing it to the ground, shattering it. “There! Now no one can have it!”

I widened my eyes, taking a few steps away from the shattered talisman, “I wouldn't have done that if I were you.”

“Oh, yeah? And why not?”

“Because you just freed them,” I said, my words making Walter tense. Dean, Ellie and Marty came bounding through the stage’s exit. “We can't stop them now. Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you.”

Walter took a few tentative steps backward, “Yeah? So—”

Those were his last words before Walter was forced face-down onto the concrete. He screamed, the back of his white shirt instantly pluming with dark blood. Ellie slowly held the phone up. I rounded the scene as Walter continued to struggle and through the screen, we could see the three spirits angrily clawing into his back. Dean glanced at us, looking down at the shotgun in his hands before letting it hang at his side.

I nodded, looking back to Walter whose screams grew quieter. He writhed for a few more seconds before finally stopping, his wide, lifeless eyes staring up at us.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I watched from a distance the monstrosity that was unfolding on set. New pages had been sent out the next morning and Marty insisted we see it.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. There!” One of the characters shouted to the other. She held the camera phone up, maneuvering it across the room. The second character fired off the shotgun.

Sam and I tried to hide our laughter as they ran through the last of the scene, the director nearly on the edge of his seat. "Cut! Oh, print that one. That's in the movie! Oh! Loved it, kids. Loved it.”

We watched the cast and crew disperse. Sam leaned over to Marty who beamed with pride, “You find out there's an afterlife, and this is what you do with it?”

Marty shrugged, “I needed a little jazz on the page.”

I laughed lightly, “See ya ‘round, Marty.”

He nodded, waving us off as Sam and I left Stage 9 for good this time. I glanced around us as we walked, furrowing my eyebrows, “Hey, did you see where Dean went?”

Sam frowned, looking around the busy set with no sight of him, “He’s probably seeing what they’ve got for lunch.”

I laughed as we kept walking, now in between the trailers when the door to one of them flew open, nearly hitting Sam in the face. Dean stepped down from it, pulling his jacket back on. I wrinkled my eyebrows, beginning to say something when a girl leaned against the trailer door, grinning from ear to ear. It was Tara, “You're one hell of a P.A.”

“Thank you,” Dean smirked.

Sam and I looked from Dean to Tara and then back to Dean who was already making his way down the sidewalk. I was still too confused to say anything when Dean grabbed a wrap from a passing crew member with a tray of them.

Dean laughed to himself as he unwrapped his food, “God, I love this town.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PREVIOUS: HEART

NEXT: FOLSOM PRISON BLUES

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur | @artemisandromedaathena-blog | @elite4cekalyma

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12 | @breereadsthings | @slytherinrising

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

22 notes · View notes

thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Crossroad Blues

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: When two highly successful professionals die after claiming to be haunted by hellhounds, Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate a local bar. Meanwhile, Ellie uncovers more about her past and Dean faces a harsh truth.

Disclaimers: fluff, drinking, hangovers, mentions of suicide, ANGST, mentions of death, near-death, unwanted advances?, starts happy but it doesn’t last very long i’m so sorry

Word Count: 9.3K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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The sound of low singing was what made me stir fitfully in my sleep, but it was Dean’s loud, off-pitch tone that made me grab the motel pillow and shove it over my face, instantly muffling their singing.

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t be a bad sport on your birthday,” Dean pried as he snatched the pillow. I peeked an eye open where Sam and Dean were next to the bed, a small cupcake balancing in Sam’s hand with a single lit candle. I suppressed a smile as they continued finishing the song.

“Make a wish, El,” Sam smiled, sitting on the edge of the mattress. I slowly pulled myself up, pushing my unruly hair out of my eyes before closing them and then blowing the candle out.

I smiled as Sam handed me the cupcake, “Thanks, you guys.”

“Alright, lets get the party started early, shall we?” Dean said excitedly as he plopped a brown grocery bag onto the bedside table, the unmistakable sound of glasses rattling together inside.

“Dean, it’s-” Sam paused, reaching for the digital clock, “eight in the morning-”

“Hey,” Dean reprimanded, “kid only turns 21 once, right?”

I laughed as I watched him pull out the numerous bottles of alcohol, placing them onto the nightstand, his smile growing wider and wider.

“Dean, this is great and all, but how did you pay for all this?” I questioned, glancing at the full bottles of liquor.

“Doesn’t matter,” he dismissed quickly. “Look, since we’re on the FBI’s watchlist, we can’t really celebrate out at a bar, so, I figured I’d bring the bar to you.”

I smiled beside myself, “Thank you. I mean, my liver’s gonna hate you, but…thanks.”

Sam and Dean smiled softly. Sam and I watched as Dean reached for one of the bottles of tequila when Sam stopped him, “Just…wait until after she’s eaten something, alright?”

Dean rolled his eyes, tightening the cap back on, “Alright, then we party.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The diner we were sitting in was bustling with people, and, for the first time since leaving Maryland, I finally felt like we weren’t being watched from every angle.

“So much for our low profile,” Sam huffed from behind his laptop screen. Dean and I glanced up at him from our plates in front of us. “You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database.”

I groaned, the fleeting moment of feeling safe even for a few hours was now out the window. I cut around my food, shaking my head at the screen Sam turned toward us.

Dean, however, didn’t seem as concerned as we did. He smirked, taking a drink from his coffee, “Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it's not funny,” I mumbled around the piece of waffle I shoved into my mouth, Sam grimacing as I pointed my fork in the direction of his laptop. “You just made our job a million time harder. Now we’ve gotta be more careful.”

“Well, what do they got on you two?” He asked.

Sam settled back behind his laptop, shifting his gaze away from Dean, “I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet.”

I glanced up at Sam, “Nothing?”

Dean chuckled, “No accessory? Anything?”

“Shut up,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Dean laughed, looking to Sam and I, “You're jealous.”

“No, I'm not!” Sam shot back.

“Uh-huh. All right,” Dean smirked, dangling his coffee cup between his fingers. “What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?”

Sam rolled his eyes as he read from a local newspaper, “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.”

“Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy- hey, slow down, kid, you’ll make yourself sick,” Dean reprimanded, and my jaw instantly stilled. Dean looked back to Sam, nodding him on. “When did he call animal control?”

“Two days earlier.”

“Did he actually say Black Dog?” I questioned, sitting back in against the booth.

Sam nodded, “Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.”

I frowned, thinking about it, “Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?”

“Well, maybe.”

“What's the lore on it?”

Sam handed Dean and I each a small stack of papers as he spoke, “It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but...some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty.”

“Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?” Dean smirked, turning around one of the pictures. I wrinkled my nose at him. “What? They could.”

I handed Sam back the papers, “Alright, so, where do we start?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean said, glancing at me. “C’mon, it’s your birthday! We don’t have to get started on the case just yet, do we?”

I looked from Dean and then over to Sam who shrugged, smiling, “The case can wait a day.”

“A day off?” I questioned, eyeing them to see if they were playing a joke on me. “You’re serious?”

“Why not,” Dean said. “Besides, you’re gonna need the rest of the day to prepare yourself if you’re gonna keep up with my drinking.”

I cocked an eyebrow at what sounded like a competition, “Oh, you are so on.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Cheers, k’ddo,” Dean slurred, clumsily clinking his shot glass with mine. I smirked as we tapped the glasses against the motel tabletop before downing the shots of tequila. I winced slightly, shaking my limbs as the alcohol travelled down my throat.

“I’m proud of ya. Lasted longer than Sss-ammy,” Dean drawled. I glanced across the room that seemed like it was tilting back and forth. Like a nice boat ride. A giggle rose up in my throat when I looked toward Sam who was already passed on the end of his bed, half of his body hanging over the edge. I couldn’t help the laughter that poured from my mouth, Dean and I laughing together, tears springing into our eyes.

I let out a deep breath, my hand resting on my stomach. The image of Dean pouring me another shot swam in front of me in waves. I held my heavy hand up, waving the alcohol away before it plunked back down on the table, knocking over a few empty bottles. “No…no way…” I hiccupped. “No more.”

“C’mon, one more for good luck,” he pressed, sloshing the alcohol over the rim of the glass as he pushed it toward me.

I looked down into the shot glass that somehow made its way into my hands. I threw the drink back, letting the glass fall out of my grasp. I rest my forehead against the palm of my hand. I felt like I was twisting over and over through space.

Then, an image crossed my mind. I giggled, pulling my eyes open as I looked over at Dean who looked like he was upside down on the ceiling, “’member when dad snuck us into that theme park?”

Dean only grunted, his head on his arm.

I giggled again, “And we rode e’ery ride and you…you threw up all over that girl?”

Laughter bubbled through me again, falling back against my chair. I gripped the edge of the table when I almost fell to the floor.

As my laughter began to subside, my fingertips danced over the rim of my toppled glass, “I miss dad.” Dean didn’t look at me. He was probably sleeping so I lowered my voice. “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Dean mumbled as he sat up slowly. There were two of him now. My eyes flitted between the two Deans. “E’eryday.”

I suppressed another hiccup, breathing slowly through my nose, “I fought with him…right before he died.” I winced at the words, never having said them out loud before.

“I know.”

“I hope…I hope he forgives me,” I slurred, reaching for the bottle and taking another drink.

“After wha’ dad told me ‘bout S’mmy…I don’t think I’ll ever forgi- forgive him.”

I narrowed my drunken eyes at his words, “Wha’ he tell you?”

Dean looked at me as if he wished he could take back what he said. I watched the two Deans take the bottle from my hands and took another drink, “Nothin’ never mind.”

“No,” I said harshly, swaying slightly. “No, Dean…no more- no more s’crets, m’kay?”

“You can’t tell S’mmy,” he whispered, looking over to our brother. I nodded, the room tipping sideways. I steadied myself against the table, gripping it tightly. “He said…he said there’s people like him. Special people, El.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “S’mmy is very special.”

“But, he said- he said,” Dean leaned in closer, whispering the words so quietly I strained to hear him. “I have to save S’mmy, and if I can’t save S’mmy, I…” He stopped, his face falling. He was close enough now that there was only one Dean.

My eyes strained to focus on his despite the swirling room around us, “Wha’ Dean?”

Dean’s next words made me recoil, suddenly feeling more sober than I had in hours. Dean seemed to sober up slightly too as he sat back, looking at me through glossy eyes.

“That’s not funny, Dean,” I breathed out. “You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

When he didn’t say another word, I continued to stare at him. I blinked twice heavily, my eyes going from Dean and then to Sammy on the bed.

“Why?” I whispered. This time, it wasn’t laughter that filled me, it was fear. “Why would dad tell you-”

“I dunno,” he said finally, shaking his head. “But you can’t tell S’mmy.”

I nodded slowly, fear now gripping my insides, “’m scared, Dean.”

His movements were in slow motion as he drank some more, his eyes glued to Sam who turned softly over the covers. “Me too.”

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The sound of a door slamming rattled me awake, the empty bottles littering the table clinked together like tiny explosions. I groaned, grasping at the back of my head, gripping my hair in my fists.

“Rise and shine!” Dean called as he rolled into the room, a plastic bag in each hand.

“Shhh,” I hushed, not daring to open my eyes to the sunlight I could already see behind my eyelids. “Don’t scream.”

Dean chuckled, placing the two bags on the table in front of me. I peeled my eyelids back, slowly pushing myself into a sitting position where I was still in my chair at the table. My stomach flip-flopped at the sight of what Dean pulled from the bags.

He opened each Styrofoam container, setting the greasy breakfast food on the table. I slammed mine shut, groaning at the smell and image, “I’m gonna puke.”

Dean laughed, handing me a fork and a bottle of water, “Dig in.”

I snatched the fork, throwing it onto the table before downing some of the water. I glanced around the room before looking puzzled over to Dean, “Where’s Sam?”

Dean settled behind his breakfast, pointing his fork toward the bathroom door, “You might wanna find another one because that one-” Dean whistled, “that one’s nasty.”

I glanced over my shoulder toward the door and then back to Dean who seemed to be acting as if last night never happened. I wracked my memory, trying to piece together if what Dean said really was true or if I’d imagined it.

“Dean,” I said, making him look up from his food. I suppressed the waves of nausea that rolled through me as the smell hit my nose. “What you said last night…was it true?”

He ignored me, reopening the food container in front of me, “Eat.”

“Dean, we can’t act like what you told me was nothing,” I whispered to him, leaning over the table.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he said, finally becoming serious. “I should never have put that on you.”

“And keep something like that from me? From Sam?”

“We’re not telling Sam,” he said quickly. I furrowed my eyebrows. “Not until we figure out why. I can’t-”

Dean clenched his jaw, tearing his eyes away from mine. I watched Dean, who for so long was someone who was never torn apart by anything. However, these past few years made him look like he was spit out of a meat grinder. I nodded slowly, giving in, “Okay. We won’t tell him.”

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened, Sam stumbling out. I quickly sat up, the sudden movements making me tighten a hand over my head and stomach.

“How you feelin’?” Dean smirked, lingering pain was still etched over his face as he looked at Sam, who I’m sure was too hungover to notice.

“How are you still vertical?” Sam shot at Dean as he slowly sat at the end of the bed.

“Because someone’s gotta take care of you two,” he said, tossing Sam a bottle of water he missed by a mile, the bottle crashing against the bedside table.

I groaned from the noise, letting my head rest against the table again as Sam muttered an apology before going on about the case we were here for, “I say we go check out the guy’s friends, see what they have to say.”

The thought of standing from my chair and then having to ride in the Impala in an itchy suit made my stomach flip. I held a finger up to him, instantly silencing his words.

“You okay, El?” Sam asked. I didn’t dare open my mouth to speak. I hummed, shaking my head.

Dean laughed, reopening my food container and pushing it slowly toward me, “Better eat up, El. Let all that nasty grease-”

“Screw you,” I groaned again, bile rising in my esophagus. I nearly sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alexei Ivanov is a large man who, even in the middle of his kitchen that’s the size of most motel rooms we stayed in, took up a lot of space. He leaned against the counter; his arms crossed over his chest. I pushed the sunglasses from over my eyes and onto my head, wincing at the bright sunlight that filled the kitchen. I couldn’t help but examine his home – the tall windows that reflected off of the furniture inside. Everything was white: the couches, the walls, the coffee table, the rugs, even the little knick knacks on the shelves built into the wall were white. It was a little disturbing.

“So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?” Sam asked Alexei, pulling my attention back to the case we were there to discuss.

“That's right,” Alexei nodded. “Now one more time, this is for...?”

“A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest,” Dean reminded. The proclamation made Alexei scoff, shaking his head as the corners of his mouth turned upward in a bitter smile. Dean shot a look to Sam and I, confused at his odd behavior before looking back to Alexei. “This funny to you?”

“No, it...it's just…a tribute,” he said, the words coming out like they tasted bad on his tongue. “Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind...” Alexei waved a hand in front of him as if dismissing the thought. “Well, he gets another tribute.”

“Right,” I said, confused. “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, but next to him...” Alexei trailed off as he thought about his friend. “And it wasn't always that way, either.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at this, “No?”

He shook his head, shifting against the countertop, “You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive.”

Dean squinted, “Right. So what changed?”

“You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing...he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart...” Alexei paused at his words, averting his eyes from ours.

Sam, Dean and I had a silent conversation, “What?”

“It's funny,” he said, but he wasn’t laughing. “True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why...why just throw it away?”

I watched Alexei carefully, tapping my fingertips against the marble countertops. Through his obvious jealousy he felt toward Sean, he made an interesting point. If Sean really was living the dream life Alexei described, what would motivate someone like that to take a swan dive off the side of a building?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam and I watched from the Impala as Dean came from the Animal Protection Agency, pulling the driver’s door open as he slid inside, “Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?”

Dean held up a file full of reports, “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all.” He tore the sticky note off the file folder, furrowing his eyebrows. “And, uh, I don't know what this thing is.”

I plucked it from his fingers, reading it before laughing, “You mean Carly's MySpace address?”

“Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?” He asked as Sam and I continued laughing. “Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - This house was huge, too. I glanced up at it, the way it stretched from one side of the property to the other, “Jesus, these people are loaded.”

Dean shook his head at the sheer size of the place before knocking on the front door, “I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard.”

A short woman opened the door, giving us a friendly smile. Sam straightened his suit, showing his badge, Dean and I following suit, “Afternoon, ma'am. Uh, Animal Control.”

“Oh, someone already came yesterday.”

“We're just following up,” I said quickly. “We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?”

The woman opened the door for us the rest of the way, inviting us into the house, “The doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago.”

Sam nodded as she led us to the kitchen, “Okay. And you are...?”

“I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid.”

“So where did the doctor go?” Dean asked, glancing around the kitchen.

“I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where,” she said, shaking her head before changing the subject. “That stray dog, did you find it finally?”

“Oh, not yet,” I said this time. “You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?”

She shook her head, “Well, no. I never even heard it. I was almost starting to think Sylvia was imagining things, but she's not like that, so...”

“Hey, you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital,” Dean mentioned from where he was standing at the fridge, investigating the pictures of the doctor with her friends. “She's gotta be what, forty two, forty three? That's pretty young for that job.”

The maid nodded, “Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position...ten years ago?”

“Huh. An overnight success,” Sam said, glancing to Dean and I. “Ten years ago.”

“Yeah, we know a guy like that. Oh, look at this,” Dean said, pulling off one of the pictures from the fridge and flipped it around, showing Sam and I the scrawled writing on the back, “Lloyd's Bar.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Something about this case was bothering me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, or maybe I could, but I just couldn’t bring myself to realize just what it was. My emotions were a whirlpool, everything from this case to what Dean told me about Sam. How he’d have to...no, no I can’t even think it. I stared out my window at the passing open road, my mind wandering, but I never let it get to that place – the place that told me I knew exactly where this case was headed.

“You’re quiet,” Dean said as we drove down a long stretch of highway toward Lloyd’s. I shifted in my seat against the warm leather.

I took my bottom lip between my top teeth, anxiously chewing at the skin, “Just tired.”

Dean looked like he wanted to prod and if it hadn’t been for the small bar rising just ahead over the horizon, he would’ve. The car rolled to a stop in front of Lloyd’s, the gravel crunching under the tires. I hesitantly stepped out, noticing now how four separate roads diverged in a common middle, just feet from Lloyd’s. A crossroads.

We continued toward the bar until Dean called after Sam and me. We turned to Dean who was glancing around the same area, “Think someone planted these?” He gestured to the yellow flowers that were meticulously lined against the edges of the crossroads.

“Middle of all these weeds?” Sam nudged the flowers with his booted foot. “These are, uh, what do you call them-”

“Yarrow flowers,” I nodded, feeling a sickening lump beginning to form in my throat but I pushed the bad thoughts away again. I was just working myself up, that had to be it.

Sam nodded, “Yeah. Used for certain rituals, aren't they?”

“Yeah, actually,” I confirmed, looking back toward the middle of the crossroads. “Summoning rituals.”

Dean squinted against the sun that was slowly starting to set now, “So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's.”

“Where there just happens to be a crossroads,” Sam finished. “You think?”

“Let's find out,” Dean said as he wandered the circle before stopping. “This seem about the dead center to you?”

Dean didn’t have to dig long to find the small, metal box buried under the gravel. The tip of the shovel colliding with something hard, “Yahtzee.”

He picked up the box, clicking it open. Inside were three bones along with a small vile of black dirt. I grabbed it, “I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone.”

“That's serious spellwork,” Dean said. “I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff.”

“Used to summon a demon,” Sam said.

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made,” Dean said, his words making my heart sink to my stomach. “These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good.”

Sam nodded in agreement, “They're seeing dogs, all right. But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls.”

“Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running?” Dean paused, dropping the box back into the ground. “She ain't running fast enough.” “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,” Dean said as he leaned up against the hood of the car. Sam and I frowned and Dean raised his eyebrows. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? You guys, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail? The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

I clenched my jaw as I nodded, “And now it's happening all over again…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?” Dean said bitterly. “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.”

I furrowed my brow at what he was saying, “So what, we should just leave them to die?”

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?”

“Dean.”

“All right. Fine. Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right?” Dean held up a small picture he must’ve taken from the box. “So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - “What's this guy's name again?” I asked as we ascended the stairs of an old apartment building.

“George Darrow. Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's,” Dean said, eyeing the rotting floorboards under our feet. “Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?”

Sam nodded along, “Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made-”

“Wasn't for cash,” Dean finished as we rounded the staircase and through the first floor. “Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis.” Dean smirked, holding his hands out in front of his chest before dropping his arms. “No, I'm just saying, this guys got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun.”

Room 4C was towards the back of the second floor. I raised my hand to knock on the wood when Sam stopped me, slapping my arm with the back of his hand. I looked to him in confusion where he was pointing to the floor, just under the door, “Look at that.”

We squatted down, examining a line of dark dust. Dean reached out, picking a small bit between his fingers, “What is that? Pepper?”

The door to the apartment swung open, the three of us quickly standing as the tenet stared us down angrily, “Who the hell are you?”

“George Darrow?”

“I'm not buying anything,” he said, going to close the door on us but Dean caught it before it shut completely.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there,” Dean chuckled, motioning to the floor. “Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt.”

Something in George shifted. I watched his subtle movements: the way his eyes averted from Dean’s and down to his tattered socks, the way his fingers tightened around the door ever so slightly, “I don't know what you’re talkin' about.”

“Talkin' about this,” Dean clarified, holding up George’s picture from the box at the crossroads, George’s face fell. He looked much different now than he did in that picture. I guess that happens when you spend ten years on the run from the inevitable. “Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?”

George looked as if he was going to slam the door in our faces, gripping the doorknob tighter. I stepped forward, holding out my hands nonthreateningly, “Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes.”

His eyes darted over us, sizing us up before hesitantly stepping back into his apartment, opening the door wider. We stepped inside, glancing around the packed living quarters. I eyed our surroundings, taking note of the shelves upon shelves of hunter inventory: jars of powders, skulls, rosaries, books on the supernatural. Among the chaos in the poorly lit room, I could make out the stacks of canvases that filled the rest of the room, each carefully painted in intricate detail. For the first time, I noticed George’s paint covered t-shirt and jeans.

“So, what is that stuff out front?” Dean asked about the powder under the door.

“Goofer dust,” he said as he poured himself a drink. Sam, Dean and I glanced at each other in confusion. George looked to us over his shoulder, taking a sip from his glass. “What, you kids think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?”

“Well, we know a little about a lot of things,” I said, catching a small, brown cloth bag of the dust George had tossed me before it could hit my chest. “Just enough to make us dangerous.” George shifted the glass to his other hand, giving me a small nod.

“What is it?” Sam questioned.

“Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons.”

Dean laughed unamused, “Demons we know.”

“Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good.” He walked around us, dropping his glass from between his fingers and lightly onto a side table next to a recliner before plopping himself down into it. He looked up at me, intertwining his fingers on his chest. “Four minutes left.”

I looked back to Sam and Dean before stepping toward George, “Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble.”

“Yeah, that you got yourself into,” Dean muttered, Sam and I shooting him a look.

Sam interjected quickly, “But it's not hopeless, alright? There's gotta be something we can do.”

“Listen. I get that you kids want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place.”

Dean squinted at him, “What'd you do it for?”

George glanced around the room at the canvases, his fingertips dancing over the edge of the glass next to him, “I was weak. I mean, who don't wanna be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just...I just never thought about the price.”

I watched the man in front of me, so young but already looking half dead, “Was it worth it?”

He cast his eyes downward into the glass that was now in his hands. He shook his head immediately, “Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want…but that wasn't the worst.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Go on.”

George shook his head, “Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but…I mean, who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others are there?”

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous.”

Sam stepped forward, egging him on. This guy was our last shot at finding anyone else who could be biting it soon, “Who else, George? Come on, think.”

He squinted as he searched his memory, “One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.”

I shook my head, “No. No, there's gotta be a way.”

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” George nearly shouted, standing from his chair.

“Look, you don't-”

“I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them.” The glass clambered to a wooden table in front of an easel with an unfinished piece, his shoulders sinking. His voice was reduced to a whisper now. “I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'til then. Buy a little time.” He picked his head up, not looking at us as he picked up his tray of paints and a paintbrush. “Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

I could tell he was quickly losing patience, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk out of his apartment without putting up a fight for the life this guy didn’t seem to have much regard for, “We can't just-”

“Get out!” George bellowed before quickly lowering his voice again. “I got work to do.”

I watched George, his still-young frame hovering over his art. I’ve seen death, seen lot of people who were well past their expiration dates. George didn’t look like one of those people. “You don't really want to die.”

“I don't?” He asked, turning to me, as if daring me to tell him otherwise. “I'm...I'm tired.”

I searched George’s dark eyes and, in this lighting, where the sunlight poured through the tall windows and over George’s face, I could see all the fine lines. Gray hairs snaked their way from his temples. Heavy bags were settled under his eyes, laugh lines like half-moons around his mouth that looked as if they hadn’t been flexed in a while. I wished there could be something I could say to make him change his mind, but as I watched him, I knew he’d made up his mind. I clenched my jaw, averting my gaze from George’s as we left him behind.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Evan Hudson’s house wasn’t easy to miss. It towered over the houses between it and I instantly had an inkling he’d traded his soul for some cold hard cash.

Dean knocked twice on the tall front door when a thin man opened it, slightly disheveled, “Yes?”

“Evan Hudson?” Sam said, making the man nod hesitantly. “You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago-”

Before Sam could get another word in, Evan slammed the door, the deadbolt clicking into place. Dean rolled his eyes, shouting to him, “Come on, we're not demons!”

I clenched my jaw, looking to Dean in annoyance at the plan I told him wouldn’t work, “Any other bright ideas?”

Dean shrugged before he stepped back and reared his foot into the door jam. The door flew inward, shards of splintered wood flying in each direction. We filed inside, quickly following Evan’s footfalls upstairs. Once at the top of the second floor we heard the door to our left click shut.

Dean stood on one side of the hallway, getting ready to kick this door in too when Sam quickly grabbed his leg, Dean shooting him a glare, “What-”

I shook my head at Dean as I easily pushed the unlocked door open, glancing around the large office, “Evan?”

Evan rounded the corner cautiously, his hands held out in front of him, “Please! Don't hurt me.”

“We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to help you,” Sam reassured.

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean said.

Evan crinkled his brow, “What? How?”

I shook my head, “Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it.”

He looked suspiciously at us, “How do I know you're not lying?”

“Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy.”

“Can you stop it?” He asked, his hand coming to run over his mouth. Evan had to know what was coming for him. His hair stood at odd angles, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Don't know. We'll try,” Sam said.

We watched as Evan began to pace slowly, bringing the flat of his hand to rest against his forehead, “I don't want to die.”

“Of course you don't, not now,” Dean said bitterly.

Sam looked over to him, shooting him a warning look, “Dean. Stop.”

Dean ignored him as he went on, taking a step closer to Evan, “What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

Evan turned, resting his hands on his desk, his head falling between his shoulders as he breathed out the words, “My wife.”

Dean scoffed as he shook his head, “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean, stop,” I warned this time.

“No. He’s right,” Evan said, still not looking at us. “I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, 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.”

Sam cinched his eyebrows together, “Desperate?”

“Julie was dying.”

“You did it to save her,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

“She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying...a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal,” Evan turned now, looking at us. “And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.”

I replayed his words in my head, how he’d do it again in a heartbeat. It didn’t make sense to me. I clenched my fists, stepping toward him, “Did you ever think about her in all this?”

“I did this for her.”

“You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what?” I felt a tight grip on my lungs and throat. “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?”

Evan tore his eyes away from mine as Sam gently grabbed my arm, pulling me back toward the door, “Okay, that's enough. You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out.”

Evan nodded as we let ourselves into the hallway. I ran my hands through my hair as I turned to them. Sam eyed me carefully, “You alright?”

I dodged the question as I pulled the Goofer dust from my jacket pocket, “I have an idea. You throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“Summon— are you crazy?” Dean grabbed my jacket sleeve before I could get any farther, his eyebrows cinched.

“Maybe a little,” I chuckled, feigning confidence. “But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

“Yeah, but how much time?”

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine.”

“No,” Dean shook his head. "No way.”

“You're not allowed to say no, Dean, not unless you've got a better idea,” I shot back. We were running out of time.

“Ellie, you can forget it, alright? I'm not letting you summon that demon.”

“Well it sure as hell shouldn’t be you,” I said.

Dean scoffed, narrowing his eyes at me, “Why not?”

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not!”

He squinted at me and then to Sam, “What are you talking about?”

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why.”

Dean shook his head, trying to get past me but I side-stepped him, blocking his way, “We don't have time for this.”

“Dad. You think maybe he made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you and Sam have been thinking it too,” I said, knowing I hit the nail on the head when Dean shook his head, turning his gaze away from me. “And my mom?” I paused, running my tongue over my teeth as the vice around my throat seemed to become tighter. “I think we’re all thinking the same thing. That she sold her soul for me. That that’s why she’s gone.”

Dean was silent for a minute before he finally dragged his eyes up to Sam and I, “It fits, doesn't it? We’re alive, they’re dead. What if they did? What if they struck a deal? Our lives for their souls?"

Evan’s voice suddenly came from inside the office, cutting through the silence that was beginning to settle between us, “I think I hear it! It's outside!”

“Just keep him alive, okay?” I said to Sam and Dean, quickly turning back toward the stairs.

“Ellie-”

“Go!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I kneeled next to the hole in the ground at the crossroads, throwing my picture into the wooden box I dug up. I scooped the gravel back into my hands, patting it back over the box before standing. I glanced around the crossroads, waiting for something, anything to happen. I knew Evan was on borrowed time.

“So,” A voice behind me said, making me whip toward her. The demon was about my height, her dark hair falling in long waves over her shoulders and chest. “What brings a girl like you to a place like this?” I hesitated, watching her carefully as she cocked an eyebrow. “You called me?”

I sighed in slight relief, “I'm just glad it worked.”

“First time?” She asked, walking a slow circle around me.

“You could say that.”

She clicked her tongue, “Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short. I know all about you, Ellie Winchester.”

I squinted as she came to a stop in front of me, “So, you know who I am.”

She shrugged, “I get the newsletter.”

“Well, don't keep me in suspense. What have you heard?”

“Well, I heard you were beautiful, but...you're just edible,” the demon whispered, twirling her fingers through my hair as she stepped closer, her eyes turning a dark red color. “What can I do for you, Ellie?”

“Maybe we should do this in the car,” I suggested. “Nice and private.”

She smirked, letting my hair fall from her hands as she turned toward Baby, “Sounds good to me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

I don’t like this. Not at all. I gripped the windowsill tighter as I stared out the open office window, thinking about how easily I let El go out there on her own. It should be me out there summoning that thing, not her.

“She’ll be alright, Dean,” Sam tried to reassure as he poured the dust on the windowsill in front of me.

“What is that stuff?” Evan interjected. I glanced over my shoulder as Sam began creating a circle of dust around Evan on the floor.

“Goofer dust.”

Evan cocked an eyebrow at him, “You serious?”

“Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do,” Sam paused, standing straight after the circle was finished, throwing the bag aside, “stay inside the circle.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

“So I was hoping we could strike a deal,” I said as we made our way to the Impala.

“That's what I do.”

“I want Evan Hudson released from his contract.”

The demon shook her head as she hummed, “Hmm. So sorry, darling. That's not negotiable.”

“I'll make it worth your while.”

She raised her eyebrows, looking over at me, “Oh really? What are you offering?”

“Me,” I said, turning to stand in her way so she couldn’t go any further.

A sneer crossed over her lips, her eyes twinkling in what looked like amusement, “Well, well, well. You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like mother, like daughter. Like your father.” My heart and fists clenched at her words, confirming what we all feared. Both of them, they both sold themselves to bring Dean and I back.

“You did know about your dad's deal, right? His life for Dean’s?” She asked, obviously enjoying this. My grip tightened on the car’s door handle next to me. “And your mom’s? How she came practically crawling to the first crossroads she could find. Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but...boy, I wish I had.”

I grimaced, wishing I could kill her right here and now, but I knew I couldn’t. Not until Evan was freed from his deal. I pulled the passenger door open, motioning her inside, “After you.”

The demon smiled, getting ready to slide into the car when she stopped, her gaze hardening at the chalk outline she spotted just beneath the frame of the car.

“A Devil's Trap?” She growled, my heart sinking. “You've got to be kidding me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

It didn’t take long for Evan to hear it again. Sam and I watched as he whipped his head toward a sound only he could hear. I glanced out the window he was looking through, “What?”

“You hear that?” Evan whispered in horror.

Sam glanced at me and then back to Evan, “No, where?”

Evan’s head whipped toward the large double doors now, his face paling and his eyes going wide. He pointed a shaky finger across the room, “Right outside the door.”

Suddenly, the doors began to shake as if someone were trying to break them down from the other side. I nudged Sam backward, the two of us stepping inside the circle beside Evan. “Just don't move, all right? Stay where you are.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

“You stupid, stupid child!” She roared at me, slamming the car door. I backed up as she came closer, cornering me against a wooden watchtower. “I should rip you limb from limb.”

“Take your best shot,” I spat at her, my heart picking up speed.

Her eyes danced over me in amusement, “No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery.”

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your mommy died for you, how she sold her soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt.” She came closer. I pushed myself up against the wooden beam. “It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, ‘I can't do this anymore.’ You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved her so much. And it's all your fault. You blew it, Ellie! I could have given you what you need.”

“What do I need?”

“Your mother…your father. I could have brought them back,” she said. I watched her, trying to figure out if she was bluffing. “Your loss. See ya, Ellie. I wish you a nice, long, life.”

I hesitated, watching as she walked in the other direction back toward the crossroads. My heart pounded at her words, not really thinking when I called after her, “Hold on.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

The doors continued to rattle viciously. I eyed the door hinges that looked as if at any minute they’d bust from the doorframes. I held my breath, praying that Ellie would get to the demon in time before Evan became dog food.

Then, the shaking doors suddenly stilled. I glanced around the room, looking to Evan, “Do you still hear it?”

“No. Is it over?” Evan panted when he looked over his shoulder, our eyes all falling to the same spot: a grated vent against the wall. Before we could even think about securing it, the vent flew outward, a cloud of smoke rolling into the room. Evan nearly fell backward in terror. “It's here!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

“You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. I just can't leave you like this,” the demon said as she turned back toward me. She leaned against the watchtower. “Besides. You didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really.”

“Can you bring them back?” I asked, just the thought of it making me feel weightless. “My mom and dad?”

“Of course I can. Just as they were. They’ll live long and natural lives, like they were meant to. That's a promise.”

I swallowed past the forming lump in my throat, “What about me?”

“I could give you ten years. Ten long, good, years with them. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Rachel, Dean, Sammy. The Winchesters all reunited.” She came closer to me under the watch tower. She rested a hand on my hip, looking up at my eyes but I kept my gaze trained just over her shoulder, her eyes on me making my skin crawl. “Look. Your parents are supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So, we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus.”

“You think you could...” I paused, stepping away from her, her hand falling to her side. “Throw in a set of steak knives?”

“You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours...” she began before pausing when she realized she couldn’t walk any farther than under the watch tower. She slowly glanced upward where I’d drawn a second devil’s trap just above our heads. Her eyes clicked to red as she glared back at me, her voice booming. “Ellie!”

“Now you're really trapped,” I sneered, suppressing a smirk at her anger that bubbled over. “That's gotta hurt.”

The demon gritted her teeth, “Let me out. Now.”

“Sure. We just gotta make a little deal here first,” I nodded. “You call off your Hellhounds and let Evan go. Then I'll let you go.”

“I can't break a binding contract.”

This time, it was me walking a circle around her, “Hmm. And by ‘can't’ you mean ‘don't want to’? Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going...”

“Let's talk about this-”

“Okay, gone,” I said finally, pulling out dad’s journal and opening it up to the incantation for an exorcism.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

“Back inside the circle!” I shouted at Evan who was sandwiched between us, his feet coming dangerously close to the edge.

We watched as long claw marks were etched into the wooden floors, just outside of the circle. Sam shot me a desperate look over his shoulder, “Dean…what do we do?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

“What are you doing?” The demon muttered out as I flattened the pages.

“Oh, you're just gonna go on a little trip. Way down South.”

“Forget Evan. Think of your parents,” she pleaded. I knew she was pulling out every stop so that I wouldn’t send her back to whatever hole she crawled out of. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t working. Her words made me stop for only a split second before going back down to the exorcism.

“Regna terrae, cantate Deo...”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

A gust of harsh wind blew through the room from the air vents. We watched as papers from Evan’s desk began flying around the room as the wind picked up speed. My eyes widened as the dust at our feet began to blow away, too.

When the circle was being connected by just a few grains of the dust, I grabbed Sam’s arm, “Circle's broken. Come on!”

We ran toward the doors, pulling them open before rushing down the long hallway and into a different room, slamming the door behind us. Sam and I pressed ourselves up against the doors as they shook violently. Sam and I dug our heels into the floor, groaning with the effort of not flying forward.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

I kept my eyes cast downward as I continued reading but could see the way the demon began to shake violently, “...in potentis Magnife!”

She began breathing harder, panting now when she suddenly stopped me just before finishing the exorcism, “Wait!” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

The pounding suddenly stopped, Sam and I panting. We cautiously stepped away from the door. I looked to Evan, “Are they still there?”

“N-no,” he breathed, relieved.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

The demon’s hands held each side of my face as we kissed, her tongue dancing over mine before pulling away. I widened my eyes in confusion, “What the hell was that for?”

“Sealing the deal.”

I blinked twice, “I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue.”

“Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives.”

I squinted at her suspiciously, “How do I know you're not lying?”

“My word is my bond.”

“Oh, really?” I scoffed.

“It is when I make a deal. It's the rules. You got what you wanted. Now let me go,” she said, her hands gripping the wooden planks next to her as she stared at me through them. I averted my gaze, running the beaded rosary over my fingers, contemplating. “You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I'm the trustworthy one.” I tore my eyes back to hers. I finally had her just where I wanted her. “You know, you renege? Send me to hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson will be the first thing that I do.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth, knowing she probably wasn’t lying. I sighed, tucking the rosary back into the journal. I climbed the beams of the tower, pulling down one of the wooden planks in the middle of the devil’s trap, breaking the seal.

The demon sighed in content, finally stepping out from under the tower, “I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “Knew what?”

“Where your mom and dad are. You should have made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word,” she shook her head. “It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing.”

I clenched my jaw, “Shut your mouth, bitch.”

“If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds mommy makes 'cause she can't even scream?”

“How about I send you back there?” I advanced toward her when her head was thrown backward, making me stop suddenly. Black smoke poured out of her mouth, inky against the night sky. I watched as it escaped from her before disappearing.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - I debated all the way back to Evan Hudson’s house whether or not I should tell Dean about what the demon said. However, once we were all alone, I knew he wouldn’t let me off the hook until I told him the truth, the whole truth.

It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, telling him what she told me. I couldn’t look at him as I said it, confirming all of Dean’s fears he’d had about what dad did for him.

“Demons lie all the time, right?” Sam said. “Maybe she was lying.”

“Come on. That really what you think?” Dean asked, now in the driver’s seat. He tightened his grip on the wheel as he shook his head. “How could he do it?”

“He did it for you.”

“Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him...wherever he is right now. I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting,” Dean said, taking his lip between his teeth as he shook his head again. “That was supposed to be his legacy. You know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this.”

I stayed silent as I listened, knowing nothing I said would make a difference. I knew what it felt like to have someone make a deal like this for you. It’s something that never gets easier.

Sam looked over to him, and I knew he was just trying to make Dean feel better, “How many people do you think dad saved? Total?”

“That's not the point, Sam.”

“Evan Hudson is safe because of what dad taught us. That's his legacy, Dean. But we're still here, man. So we gotta keep going, for him,” he said. When Dean didn’t respond, Sam raised his eyebrows. “Dean?”

“Yeah.”

Silence filled the car once again. I fought myself to keep the demon’s words out of my head, fought to keep the image of mom and dad suffering, wherever they were now. I was pulled from my thoughts when Sam turned to me, “When you were trapping that demon, you weren't...I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to be able to say that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind once, twice, a million times. But I couldn’t, I knew I’d be lying. I felt Sam’s eyes on me, and then Dean’s too. I dragged my gaze away from them as I slunk against my seat and put my headphones in, not saying a word.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Houses of the Holy

Pairing: Wincheser!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie investigate the murders of several people by individuals who claim they were visited by an angel and were carrying out God’s will.

Disclaimers: death, attempted assault, blood, angst

Word Count: 8.4K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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Providence, Rhode Island

The soles of my white shoes squeaked as I walked down the long hallway. The all-white scrubs that I was able to snag from the Goodwill down the street made the patients avert their gazes away from mine, slinking against the wall as they made their way past me.

I glanced over my shoulder at one of them who whimpered, tucking his arms around his midsection as he picked up his speed to get away from me as quickly as he could. This place was starting to feel like more of a punishment than a place for someone to get better. ‘Someone’ being people like Gloria Sitnick who I could now see through the tiny window of the psychiatric wards bedroom door.

She was sitting with her back to me, the Bible in her hand. I pushed the door open, smiling when Gloria turned halfway around. She smiled, too, “Good morning. You're not the usual guy.”

“No, uh, just filling in,” I said, closing the door behind me. The all-white room would typically be blinding, but Gloria sat in somewhat darkness, only one fluorescent light clicked on. “I’m Ellie.”

She set the Bible down, “Nice to meet you. I’m Gloria.”

I nodded. I knew that, and I’m sure she did too unless she was unaware of how her face was plastered over every news channel, paper and magazine in Providence. I balanced the metal chart in my hand, “So how you feeling today, Gloria?”

“I've never felt better.”

I raised my eyebrows, unsure of how someone could be so comfortable in a place like this. “So, no disturbances lately?”

“You mean am I stark raving cuckoo for cocoa puffs?”

I shook my head, dismissing her words even though I knew she was joking with me. Her eyes glinted with laughter. “I didn't say that.”

“It's alright,” she said, closing the Bible in her lap. “I know what people must think.”

I squinted at her, “What do you think?”

Gloria looked back up at me, “I think what I saw was real.”

I watched her momentarily, a woman who had murdered another person in cold blood who chalked it up to saying it was divine intervention that made her do it. She’d been patronized in the media, her name thrown every which way. They called her crazy, had been donned a lunatic before her trial even began. She was never bound to stand a fair trial after that.

I turned to set the chart on the table next to me before realizing all these rooms had were a bed. Tables were a risk to the patients. Instead, I laid the chart on the floor as I sat in a chair across from where she sat at the edge of her bed, “I'd like to know what you saw.”

“It was all over the news,” she said. So she did know. “I stabbed a man in the heart.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it was God's will,” Gloria said without missing a beat.

I searched her eyes, “Did God talk to you?”

She chuckled lightly, “No. I get the sense God's a little busy for house calls. No, he, he sent someone.”

I raised my eyebrows at this, “Someone?”

“An angel,” she said, almost whimsically. I sat up a little straighter. “It came to me in this…beautiful white light, and it filled me with this…feeling. It's, it's hard to describe.”

“And this angel...”

“Spoke God's Word.”

“And the Word was to kill someone?” I questioned.

Gloria looked down at her hands, “I know, it sounds strange.” She brought her eyes back up to mine. “But what I did was very important. I helped him smite an evil man. I was chosen. For redemption.”

“This man you stabbed, did the angel give you his name?”

She shook her head, “No, he just told me to wait for the sign. And the very next day I saw it, right beside the man's doorway. And I knew.”

I thought about the crime scene photos, the blood that was pooled down the porch stairs. She killed him in the light of day. “Why him?”

“I just know what the angel told me: that this man was guilty to his deepest foundations.” Gloria leaned forward, lowering her voice into a whisper. “And that was good enough for me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I pushed the motel door open, glancing over my shoulder before locking it behind me. Sam was sitting at the table, headphones in and Dean was laying on the bed, his entire body shaking. I furrowed my eyebrows until I stepped closer, realizing it was the massage machine connected to the bed that Dean had paid extra for.

I turned to Sam, jutting my thumb towards Dean, “He’s still doing that?”

Sam pulled out his headphones begrudgingly, “All. Day.”

I rolled my eyes, rounding the bed as I slapped Dean’s booted foot. He lazily peeked an eye out, pulling an earbud from his ear where I could hear a song blaring, “El, you gotta try this. I mean there really is magic in the Magic Fingers.”

“Dean, you're enjoying that way too much. It's kind of making me uncomfortable,” I said, wrinkling my nose as I threw my jacket onto the bed.

“I’ve tried telling him,” Sam said.

Dean brought his arms down dramatically, “What am I supposed to do? I mean, you've got me on lockdown here, I'm bored out of my skull.”

“Hey, you were the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news, not us,” Sam shot at him. “We can't risk you just walking into a government facility.”

Dean rolled his eyes, settling back into the bed. I sat down in a chair, pulling off my shoes. I rubbed the blisters forming on my ankles and toes.

The low vibrations shaking Dean’s bed suddenly ceased, a high pitched dinging coming from the machine, signaling the end of the time. Dean sat up, glancing at the machine, “Aw, dammit! That was my last quarter. Hey! You got any quarters?”

“No!” Sam and I said in unison.

Dean groaned, rolling himself off of the bed, “So did you get in to see that crazy hooker?”

“Yeah. Gloria Sitnick,” I confirmed as I retreated into the bathroom, clean clothes in hand. I shut the door behind me, yelling to them through the door. “It was weird, though, I mean…she seemed, I don’t know, normal?” I pulled the scrubs off, pulling on my own clothes before going back out to the room.

“But she seriously believes that she was...touched by an angel?” Dean asked as I folded the scrubs. They’d probably come in handy later.

“Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works,” I said. “I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.”

Sam shrugged from behind his laptop, “Maybe she’s not crazy, then.”

“Oh yeah, you're right, sounds completely sane,” Dean countered. “What about the dude she stabbed?”

“Uh, Carl Gully,” I recalled. “She said she killed him because he was evil.”

Dean looked over to Sam who had been looking into the guy, “Was he?”

Sam shrugged, scratching the back of his neck, “I don't know. I mean, I couldn't find any dirt on him. He didn't have a criminal record, he worked at the campus library, had lots of friends. He was a churchgoer.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms, “Hm. 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?”

“Well, no, but she's the second in town to murder because an angel told them to,” I said. “Little bit odd, don't ya think?”

“Well, little odd yes, supernatural maybe. But angels?” Dean scoffed, shaking his head at the idea. “I don't think so.”

“Why not?” Sam asked instantly.

“'Cause there's no such thing, Sam.”

I glanced to Sam whose eyebrows were furrowed at his words, “Dean, there's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted.”

“Yeah, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams, and they shoot rainbows out of their ass.”

I lowered myself slowly to the end of the bed, “Wait, there's no such thing as unicorns?”

“That's cute,” Dean said sarcastically. “I'm just saying, there's just some legends that you just, you file under ‘bullshit’.”

I frowned, “And you've got angels on the bullshit list?”

“Oh, not you too,” Dean groaned, looking to me. “You really believe in that stuff?”

I shrugged, “I mean, why not? If monsters and demons are real, why not angels? There’s gotta be some good out there to balance out the bad. Why don’t you believe in them?”

Dean grabbed a magazine from the dresser, flipping through it, “Because I've never seen one.”

“So what?”

“So I believe in what I can see.”

Sam laughed humorlessly, “Dean! We’ve seen things that most people couldn't even dream about.”

“Exactly. With our own eyes. That's hard proof, okay?” Dean said, tossing the magazine back onto the dresser. “But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. 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.”

I thought about Dean’s words, thought about the way we’d never come across anything like what Gloria had described to me. I also thought about what my mom always told me about them when I was little. I’d always clung to that small shred of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was some good out there. I could understand where Dean was coming from, but I hadn’t exactly made my mind up yet, “Maybe.”

“Can we just — I'm going stir-crazy,” Dean said, quickly changing the subject as he rubbed his eyes with the pads of his fingers before quickly pulling them away. “Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?”

“I was just there,” I said. “Nothing. No sulfur, no EMF…”

“You didn't see any fluffy white wing feathers?”

Sam shot Dean a glare, but I began to think back to what Gloria and I had talked about, an idea popping into my head, “But Gloria did say the angel gave her a sign, right beside Carl Gully's doorway. Could be something at his house; it's worth checking out.”

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Carl Gully’s house was in the suburbs of Providence. His home stood tall on the corner of the street. From where we parked against the sidewalk, we could already see the pile of mail collecting on his doorstep.

We stepped up to the house, Dean taking the few steps up to the porch before turning to Sam and me, pointing at an angel statue next to the door, “Oh hey, Sam. I think I found it. It's a sign from up above.” He came back down the stairs, hands in his pockets as he snickered. “Well, I think I learned a valuable lesson: Always take down your Christmas decorations after New Year's, or you might get filleted by a hooker from God.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “I'm laughing on the inside.”

I looked up at the house before glancing around to the side where there was a small, fenced in area. I stepped toward it, pulling open the unlocked gate. I looked back at Sam and Dean, shrugging as we let ourselves onto the property.

My eyes instantly went to the cellar doors that were just above ground, peeking over the grass. I squinted at them, “You know, Gloria said the guy was guilty to his deepest foundations.”

“You think she literally meant the foundation?” Dean asked.

I shrugged, trying the doors that opened easily. Sam went back to the car, grabbing three flashlights before we went inside. Dean led the way, followed by me and then Sam. We scanned the cellar where there was nothing but a few metal shelves and a bookcase.

I examined the shelves, picking up a jar of something pink and slimy. I carefully put it back onto the shelf when Sam called to Dean and me, “Hey.”

“You got something?” Dean asked, him and I crouching next to Sam. He pointed to a faded spot on the cellar’s stone walls, digging at something that was stuck inside before pulling it out.

“What is it?” I asked, shining my flashlight over it.

Sam wiped the dust away before sighing, “It's a fingernail.”

“Oh…great,” I said sarcastically as Dean stood, grabbing the three shovels that were leaning against the wall, handing each of us one. This guy didn’t seem like the model citizen his nonexistent criminal record had made him out to be.

We didn’t have to dig far before we found the body, now reduced to bones. Sam shined his flashlight over the corpse, “So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian.”

I grimaced at the bones, “Poor girl.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Dean asked.

I shifted my feet, shining the light over the pile of bones, picking up a stick and pointed to what was still intact, “The pelvis. Its wider than a man’s, shorter, too. This is the sacrum, both men and women have it, but women have more shallow pelvic cavities for when they have babies, you know? And, and here –” I pointed toward the bottom of the pelvis, “the pubic bone is about…ninety…four degrees? Men’s pubic bones are only about fifty to eighty degrees.”

I sat back on my knees, throwing the stick to the side, glancing at Sam and Dean who were silent. They furrowed their eyebrows at me. My eyes bounced between them, confused, “What?”

“Impressive,” Sam said.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about. I'll give you that.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“D'you bring quarters?” Dean asked instantly once Sam and I had come back into the motel room after having gone to check into Carl Gully’s life a little more closely.

“Dude! I'm not enabling your sick habit,” Sam reprimanded as he sat at the end of the bed. “You're like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, “What are you talking about? I eat. And I got news.”

“Us too,” I said. “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,” Sam finished, making me nod.

Dean shook his head, “Sick bastard.”

“So Gloria's angel —”

“Angel?” Dean interrupted Sam, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Sam sighed, “Okay. Whatever this thing is…”

“Okay, well, whatever it is, it's struck again.”

I raised my eyebrows, “What?”

Dean stood from the bed, holding up the police scanner, “I was listening to the police radio before you got here. 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.”

“And then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?”

“Yep. Roma Downey made him do it.” Sam and I watched as he snatched a post-it note that’d been stuck to the mirror. “Now, I, uh…got the victim's address.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Getting into the crime scene wasn’t much of an issue. With a town like Providence with the police force small as the town was large, all it took was a call from a phone booth about a disturbance on the other side of the city and the cops scattered.

I chuckled lightly to myself as we watched the last of the cop cars pull away from the scene, “Suckers.”

Dean, Sam and I rounded the back of the house, finding a large dumpster pushed up against the fence that led directly to the vic’s property. We hopped onto the dumpster, jumping over the fence. I flipped open my pocketknife, slipping the blade into the window between the frame and the lock, maneuvering it until the lock popped open.

Sam instantly went for the desktop sitting in an office. I glanced around the house, not seeing anything out of the ordinary but that didn’t mean this guy was off the hook yet, “You know what I’ve learned from this hunt? You can never trust anyone. Everybody’s got some kind of skeleton in the closet.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Dean said. He scanned the shelves in the living room before pausing, glancing over at me. He lowered his voice as he spoke. “Hey, you…you don’t really believe what’s going on here, do you? I mean, angels?”

I shrugged, “I don’t really know. I wanna believe, I do. My mom did. It’s one of the few things I remember about her. It’s just…” I paused, setting down the book I’d taken from the shelf, returning my hand back into my pocket. “Maybe you’re right. I mean, why haven’t we seen one before? We’ve seen every other godforsaken thing.”

Dean nodded slowly, tapping his fingers against the shelf before turning, going back toward the office where Sam was trying to break the password.

“Find anything?” Sam asked, not looking over at us.

“Well, Frank liked his catalog shopping, but that's about all I got,” Dean said. “You?”

“Not much here. Except he's got this one locked file on his computer, I can't…” Sam paused, squinting at the computer. “Hold on.” I watched as he clicked a series of keys on the keyboard before beaming. “Not anymore.”

Impressed, I glanced at the screen over his shoulder, resting my palm on the desk. Multiple threads of emails popped up in a small window and they just kept coming. I raised my eyebrows, “God.”

“What?” Dean asked, coming around the desk and looking over Sam’s other shoulder.

“Well, he's got all these emails. Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer,” he said before reading the emails more closely. He slightly tensed, a look of disgust crossing over his face. “This lady who's thirteen years old.”

I groaned, “Fucking creep.”

“Looks like they met in a chat room. These emails are pretty personal,” Sam said as he clicked through them before stopping. “Look at that. Setting up a time and place to meet.”

“Great,” Dean said sarcastically.

I widened my eyes as I read the disturbing email, “They were supposed to meet today.”

“Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing,” Dean said as he stood, slowly rounding the desk. “I don't know you guys, 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, like a –”

“Avenging angel?” Sam interjected, receiving a glare from Dean who turned away from us, rummaging through a table on the other side of the room. “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 —”

“Hey,” Dean interjected, grabbing a piece of loose paper from the table. “You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer, right?”

Sam wrinkled his eyebrows, “Yeah?”

“What was the name of his church?”

“Uh...Our Lady of the Angels?”

“Of course that'd be the name,” he said before flipping the paper over. It was a newsletter. “Looks like Frank went to the same church.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So you're interested in joining the parish?” Father Reynolds asked as we walked the long hall through the church between rows of pews.

“Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday,” Dean said.

“Where'd you say you lived before?”

“Fremont, Texas,” Sam said.

Father Reynolds smiled, “Really? That's a nice town. St. Teresa's parish, you must know the priest there.”

I widened my eyes slightly, “Sure, yeah, no it's uh Father…O'Malley.”

“Hmm,” Father Reynolds hummed as we stopped next to a row of pews. “I know a Father Shaughnessy.”

“Shaughnessy, exactly,” I laughed nervously. “What'd I say?”

“You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father,” Sam interjected, quickly changing the subject.

Father Reynolds nodded, “And we're happy to have you, we could use some young blood around here.”

“Hey, listen, I gotta ask — no offense, but uh, the neighborhood?” Dean pressed. We were hoping to get some dirt on the churchgoers.

“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,” Father Reynolds sighed. He clasped his hands in front of him. “Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime, you work your butt off.”

“Huh. Yeah, we heard about the murders,” Dean said.

Dean’s words made Father Reynolds nod sadly, “Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years.”

“And the killers said that an angel made them do that?” I asked.

“Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “So you don't believe in those angel yarns, huh?”

“Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description,” he said, pointing to his clerical collar.

Sam gestured over his shoulder toward a painting on the other side of the room. It covered nearly half the wall: an angel, its wings spread wide and a sword in his hands. “Father, that's Michael, right?”

Father Reynolds nodded, “That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil.”

I squinted at the picture before nudging Dean who leaned over as I whispered, “He kinda looks like you.”

Dean stood straight again, cocking his head, examining the picture when Sam turned to Father Reynolds, “So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant?”

“Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. ‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified’. Luke two nine.”

I nodded slowly, “Well, we should get going.” Father Reynolds nodded once, leading us back to the large doors. “Thank you for speaking with us, Father.”

“Oh, it's my pleasure,” he said once we made it to the stone steps leading up to the church. “Hope to see you again.”

Before Father Reynolds could turn away, Dean motioned toward one of the steps where a small assortment of flowers and a cross had been placed, “Hey, Father, what's all that for?”

Father Reynolds’ face fell, “Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“’Was’?”

He nodded, “He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt.”

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites.” He seemed to daze off sadly when he looked at the memorial but quickly looked back to Dean, Sam and me. “But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died, I've been praying my heart out.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows, “For what?”

“For deliverance. From the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose.”

Dean glanced to us at his words before nodding, “Well, Padre, thanks. We'll see you again.”

We shook hands with Father Reynolds, watching as he retreated back into the church. We waited until the door was fully shut behind him before any of us spoke.

Dean stepped forward, picking up the small picture of Father Gregory, “Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death? That's vengeful spirit material right there. 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 countered.

Dean paused, squinting at him in disbelief, “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’?” He asked, making Sam shake his head. “No, seriously. From the git-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 opened my mouth to tell Dean to lay off Sam, but Sam spoke before I could even get a word in, “I do.”

Dean and I both looked to him in confusion, “What?”

“I do pray every day,” he said simply. “I have for a long time.”

I looked over to Dean, worried about what he was going to say to Sam, “The things you learn about a guy. Huh.”

I could already feel the tension building so I stopped it before it could get any more out of control, “Alright, come on, let's go check out Father Gregory's grave.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

I followed slightly behind Dean and Ellie who stepped into the crypt first, glancing over at the angel statues that lined the walls. I tried to push Dean’s words from my head while simultaneously trying to figure out why he was so against the idea that maybe what we were dealing with could be the real thing. Ellie at least seemed open-minded about the possibility.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a low vibration coming from against the wall. I slowly turned, eyebrows furrowing when I realized what it was: one of the angel statues, quickly starting to shake faster and faster.

A high pitched ringing filled my ears, and a bright light filled the room. I instantly turned on my heels, squinting through the brightness. Tears sprung into my eyes from the overwhelming peace I felt, followed by a soft whisper rolling through my ears.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Dean and I walked deeper into the crypt and when I didn’t hear Sam’s footsteps behind me, I turned toward the closed door we’d just walked through. I pushed it open, “Sam, let’s go-”

Sam’s curled body on the floor of the crypt made me run toward him, shaking him, “Sammy? Sammy! Dean!”

Dean ran in just as Sam jerked awake. Dean kneeled next to me as I helped him sit up. We watched him carefully, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, but he looked like the color had been drained right from his body. I watched as his eyes travelled up to the angel statue in front of him. “Yeah. 'm okay.”

Dean grabbed him by his arms, pulling him from the ground, “Come on.”

We slowly led Sam back into the church, guiding him towards a row of pews. I eyed him, squinting at how calm he’d been, how he seemed to not be able to take his eyes off of the statues in the crypt. “You saw it, didn't you? Didn't you?”

Sam sat down, “Yeah. I – I saw an angel.”

“You...” Dean began before opening his jacket, pulling out his flask. He unscrewed the top, handing it to Sam. “Alright. Here.”

Sam glanced at it before looking back up to Dean, “I don't want a drink.”

“I do,” I said, grabbing the flask and swallowing its contents. I winced slightly before Dean took it, taking a long drink.

I wiped at my mouth, “So. What makes you think you saw a…an angel?”

“It just, it appeared before me and I just…this feeling washed over me, you know? Like, like peace. Like grace.”

Dean scoffed, “Okay, Ecstasy Boy, maybe we'll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?”

“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 said, going to sit down in the pew across from Sam. “Okay, let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner. You've just gotta wait for some divine bat signal, is that it?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Dean chuckled, “Great. I don't suppose you asked what this alleged bad guy did?”

“Actually, I did, Dean. And the angel told me,” he started. I leaned forward slightly. “He hasn't done anything. Yet. But he will.”

Dean stood from the pew, shaking his head, “Oh, this is, this is…I don't believe this.”

“Dean, I mean, the things these people are saying the angel told them haven’t been wrong yet,” I tried, glancing at Sam. “If someone's going to do something awful, then maybe we can stop it.”

“You know, you're supposed to be bad too, Sam, maybe I should just stop you right now,” Dean shot at him, ignoring my words. I widened my eyes, opening my mouth but Sam was already nearly shouting at him.

“You know what, Dean? I don't understand! Why can't you even consider the possibility?”

“What, that this is an angel!?”

“Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop! Maybe this is God's will!”

I sat down in the pew next to Sam, resting my elbows on my knees as I ran my hands over my face, resting my forehead in my palms.

Dean stayed silent for a minute, letting a beat of silence pass between them, “Okay, alright. You know what? I get it. You've got faith. That's — hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier.” He sat down again. “I'll tell you who else had faith like that — mom.” I picked my head from my hands, looking over to where Sam was now looking sadly at Dean. “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.”

“You never told me that,” Sam whispered.

“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?” Sam stayed silent, tearing his eyes from Dean’s. “Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Father Gregory’s tomb was one of two in the crypt. His headstone now covered in what looked like vines. However, as I inspected it more closely, I could tell what it really was, “That looks like—”

“It's wormwood,” Dean finished. “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.” He glanced over to Sam. “It's him, Sam.”

Sam was silent for a minute before standing, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Dean squinted at him before looking to me. “Maybe?”

I shook my head, “Dean, I don't know what to think.”

He sighed, letting his hands drop to his sides in frustration, “Okay. You want some more proof? I'll give you more proof.”

“How?”

He motioned toward the headstone, “We'll summon Gregory's spirit.”

I raised my eyebrows, “What? Here? In the church?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, we just need a few odds and ends, and that, uh, séance ritual in dad's journal.”

“Oh, a séance, great,” Sam scoffed. “Hope Whoopi's available.”

“That's funny, actually. Seriously,” Dean said stoically. “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,” I said. “Nothing will happen.”

“Exactly. That's one of the perks of the job: we don't have to operate on faith. We can know for sure. Don't you wanna know for sure?”

Dean brushed past Sam and I, out of the crypt. I looked up to Sam, “Sam-”

He turned away from me, going back to the car. I sighed, closing my eyes before opening them to the angel statue in front of me. I ground my teeth, pointing to the statue, “You started this.”

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Sam’s POV

We left the convenience store, Ellie chuckling as we stepped onto the sidewalk, “I can’t believe we’re using a Spongebob placemat instead of an altar cloth.” She snatched it from the bag in my arms. “That’s awesome. And a real slap in the face to this spirit. Can you imagine being summoned on Spongebob and Patrick jellyfishing?”

“We'll just put it Spongebob side down,” Dean offered as they walked ahead to the car, but I froze when I could see a blinding light at the end of the sidewalk.

I pointed to the man in front of the light who was waiting to cross the street, “You guys, that's it.”

Dean and Ellie turned toward me in confusion, looking to where I was pointing and then back, “What?”

“That's the sign!”

Ellie wrinkled her eyebrows, “Where?”

“Right there, right behind that guy!” I whisper shouted. It was so bright it was nearly blinding. “That's him. We have to stop him.”

I shoved the bag into Ellie’s arms, going toward the man but Dean grabbed my chest, pulling me back, “Wait a minute.”

“What are you doing? Let me go.”

“You're not going to go kill somebody because a ghost told you to, are you insane?” He whispered.

“Dean, I'm not insane, I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to stop him.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “Define ‘stop’, huh? I mean, what are you gonna do?”

I looked toward the man who was getting in his car now. I looked desperately back to Dean, knowing we were running out of time, “Dean, please, he's going to hurt someone, you know it.”

He looked past me toward the car that came to life, its headlights pouring onto the dark street, “Alright, come on.”

We jogged back to the car, Ellie and I watching as Dean slid into the front seat, our hands on the handles. Ellie yanked on it, “Dean. Unlock my door.”

Dean ignored her, leaning over the front seat, looking up at me, “You're not killing anyone, Sam. I got this guy, you two go do the séance.”

“Dean!” Ellie yelled after him, her eyes wide as he pulled away from the curb, following the car.

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Dean’s POV

I followed Sam’s supposed lead down Main Street until he hung a left onto a residential road. I trailed far behind him, keeping my eyes on the guy this “angel” seemed so keen on Sam stopping. I watched as the guy pulled up to the curb, getting out of the car with a handful of flowers.

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, this guy’s pure evil.”

The guy jogged toward one of the house, knocking twice before a woman opened the door. She smiled, smelling the flowers as he led her to his car. I resisted the urge to call Sam, to never let him live down the fact he wanted to off a guy going on a date. However, I knew I had to see this through. On the very, very slim chance that this is what Sam claimed it to be, I didn’t think I could live with myself if something happened to that girl tonight.

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Ellie’s POV

I struck a match against the stone floor, lighting the candles surrounding the bowl on the placemat in front of Father Gregory’s headstone. Sam glanced at it, sighing when he saw Spongebob staring back at him, “El, I told you to flip that thing over.”

“No,” I refused, putting the matches away. I grinned. “I like it. We’re keeping it.”

Sam chuckled shortly as he watched me gather everything together, placing it into the bowl. I could tell he wanted to talk to me about something, but I wasn’t going to push him. We sat silently for a while before he finally spoke, “El…what if Dean’s right?”

I glanced over to him, my heart breaking. Although it kinda freaked me out, the idea that this could be an angel was somewhat comforting and more than anything, I didn’t want Sam to lose the faith he seemed to have clung to for so long.

“If Dean’s right, and this actually is Father Gregory’s spirit…Sam, it doesn’t mean that- that angels or God or whoever isn’t out there,” I said. “It just means you have to keep the faith that maybe they are.”

Sam cleared his throat before nodding and opened up dad’s journal as he began to read the incantation. I stood from where I was crouched on the ground and at his last words, he sprinkled a bit of dust over the flame in the middle of the circle, the fire sparking before settling again.

A booming voice at the opposite end of the crypt made Sam and I whip around, “What are you doing? What is this?”

Sam’s eyes went wide at the sight of Father Reynolds, “Uh, Father, please. I can explain.” I glanced over to him as he struggled to find the right words before giving up. “Um…actually, maybe I can't.”

“This is a,” I paused, “a séance…?”

“A séance?” Father Reynolds repeated. “Young woman, you are in the House of God.”

I glanced back at the altar, “It's based on early Christian rites, if that helps any.”

He was fuming now as he stepped towards us, “Enough. You're coming with me.”

Father Reynolds grabbed us each by the arms, pulling us toward the doors to the crypt. Sam twisted from his grip, “Father, please, just wait a second!”

Before Sam could get another word in, a bright white light filled the room. We slowly turned, shielding our eyes. Father Gregory watched in awe, muttering, “Oh my god. Is that...is that an angel?”

Sam’s shoulders slumped forward slightly in defeat at the sight of the spirit, “No, it's not. It's just Father Gregory.”

The light slowly faded until all that remained was the spirit of Father Gregory, just as he looked in the picture at his memorial on the Church’s front steps. Father Reynolds let out a breath, “Thomas?”

“I've come in answer to your prayers,” Father Gregory said to Father Reynolds before looking past him and towards Sam. “Sam. I thought I sent you on your path. You should hurry.”

“Father, I'm sorry. But you're not an angel,” Sam said as we stepped closer to him.

“Of course I am.”

“No,” I said this time. Father Gregory tore his eyes from Sam’s to look at me, my heart aching at the confirmation of Sam’s fears. “You're a man. You're a spirit. And you need to rest.”

“I was a man. But now I'm an angel. I was on the steps of the church. And I felt that bullet pierce right through me. But there was no pain. And suddenly I could see…everything,” he paused. “Father Reynolds, I saw you, praying and crying here. I came to help you.”

Father Reynolds squinted at him, “Help me how?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I continued to follow the car for another few miles, mindlessly driving behind it. I hung back from the car, trying not to be too obvious that I was following them. That’s why, when the car took a sharp right, I didn’t rush to keep up with him. I let a few seconds pass before I turned onto the same road. However, once I was there, his car was gone.

I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up straighter in my seat. I pressed down a little harder on the gas, looking down every side street, but he’d gotten away. I gritted my teeth, slamming an open hand down on the wheel. “Dammit!”

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Ellie’s POV

Father Reynolds took a tentative step toward Father Gregory, “Those murders — that was because of you?”

Father Gregory nodded once, “I received the Word of God. He spoke to me, told me to smite the wicked. I'm carrying out his will.”

“You're driving innocent people to kill.”

“Those innocent people are being offered redemption,” Father Gregory retorted before looking over to Sam. “Some people need redemption. Don't they, Sam?”

I glanced over to Sam who clenched his jaw, a tear pricking his eye. Father Reynolds shook his head, “How can you call this redemption?”

“You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things.”

“Those people. They're locked up,” I said this time, remembering the ward Gloria Sitnick was sitting in right now. “They’re…they’re not free.”

“No, but they're happy,” he said. “They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to Heaven.”

“No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong.” Father Reynolds watched his friend as if he didn’t even recognize the man standing in front of him. “Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided.”

“Father. No, I'm not misguided,” Father Gregory urged. He truly believed that what he was doing was God’s will.

“You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels.”

Something inside of Father Gregory switched. He glanced to the three of us before his eyes settled again on Father Reynolds, “But…but I, I don't understand. You prayed for me to come.”

“I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. ‘Thou shalt not kill’,” Father Reynolds reminded him. “That's the word of God.”

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Dean’s POV

My search for the car didn’t stop, even long after if felt hopeless. The thing couldn’t’ve just vanished into thin air. I drove down every road, every side street, every alleyway until finally, finally, I saw it parked behind an abandoned building.

I felt the sinking feeling in my gut that Sam had been right, this guy was bad news. I pulled up behind the car, hearing the girl inside screaming for help. I could see him force himself on her through the back window.

“No. N-- Stop it!” The woman pleaded. It only propelled me forward, slamming the butt of my gun against the driver’s side window. The glass shattered and I instantly pulled the man off of her, slamming his head twice against the wheel.

The woman cried, pushing herself out of the car. I slid over the hood, gently grabbing her upper arms as she sobbed, “Are you okay? Are you okay?!”

“Thank god!” She cried, holding her arms over her chest.

Then, his car came to life, the engine whirring as the man sped away. I gritted my teeth, “Dammit!” I looked back to the girl, debating whether to stay with her or find and kill the son of the bitch that did this to her. “Are you sure you're okay? Do you have a cell phone?” She nodded quickly and I ran back toward the Impala. “Call 9-1-1!”

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Ellie’s POV

“Let us help you,” Sam begged Father Gregory.

He shook his head, “No.”

“It's time to rest, Thomas, to be at peace,” Father Reynolds said although he looked torn. He finally had his friend back, but he knew what he had to do, even if it was the hardest thing in the world. Seeing someone again after they’ve been gone…who wouldn’t want that. “Please, let me give you Last Rites.”

Father Gregory looked from Father Reynolds, over to me and then to Sam, his eyes lingering before they were downcast. He nodded slowly and Father Reynolds opened his palms, “O Holy Hosts above, I call upon thee as a servant of Christ to sanctify our actions this day, in fulfillment of the will of God.”

Father Gregory’s spirit flickered, making Father Reynolds gasp. Thomas looked down at himself, frightened, “Father Reynolds?”

“Rest,” Father Reynolds said. Father Gregory slowly dropped to his knees.

Father Reynolds rested a hand on Father Gregory’s forehead, “I call upon the Archangel Raphael, Master of the Air, to make open the way. Let the fire of the Holy Spirit now descend, that this being might be awakened to the world beyond.”

A bright light emitted from Father Gregory, every inch of his body shining like a million little suns, but it didn’t hurt. It was beautiful. As suddenly as he appeared, Father Gregory was gone.

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Dean’s POV

I pressed harder on the gas as I tailed him, keeping close to his bumper. He soared through alleys, the car catching air when it lifted off of the short hills in the road. I gripped the wheel, determined not to let this guy get away.

Sparks flew from under his wheels as we turned onto a main road. A large truck on the other side of the road abruptly turned left into the right lane, making the man swerve around it and maneuver his way down onto a hidden road. I jerked the wheel, following close after him.

The gravel on this new road sprung up from the wheels and hit the frame of the car, the body jostling up and down on the uneven streets. I ground my teeth, wincing at the sounds Baby was making. If I wasn’t going to kill this guy before I definitely was now.

He took a sharp left onto another road. I slammed on the breaks, swinging the car to follow him, the tires shrieking on the asphalt. I steadied the car, bearing down harder. This guy couldn’t run forever and when he stopped-

My murderous thoughts were cut short when a car on the other side of the intersection we were approaching blew the stop sign. A truck carrying a pile of lead pipes on its truck bed ahead of us dodged the oncoming car, skidding sideways. The man ahead of me slammed on the breaks. I swerved out of the way as to not rear end him. However, that was the least of his worries as I watched one of the lead pipes drop from the trunk, bouncing once on its end before sailing through the air and pierced the windshield.

I widened my eyes, rolling the car to a stop next to the man’s car. The lead pipe was half out of the windshield, half pinning the man to his seat.

I slowly stood from the car, my eyes wide, “Holy…”

I stalked toward his car from the back, eyeing the bloodied pipe that jutted from the back of the driver’s seat. Blood dripped onto the back floor. My eyes followed the pipe to the front where the man was slouched forward, the pipe having gone straight through his chest.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I sat still in the motel parking lot for a few minutes, staring inside the slightly parted curtain of our room. Sam and Ellie were standing at the table, folding their clothes and putting them in their duffle bags. I pulled the keys from the engine, unable to get the image of the guy out of my head. Or, more specifically, how it happened.

After a while, I dragged myself from the car, pushing the motel door open. Ellie looked over to me, but Sam kept his eyes down at his bag. I shut the door behind me, sighing, “How was your day?”

“You were right,” Ellie said, sounding slightly defeated. “It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory.”

I nodded slowly, grabbing the flask from my jacket and taking a drink, handing it to her. She hesitated before taking it, taking a long drink before handing it to Sam who took one, too.

I threw my jacket onto the bed, running my hand down my face. Sam looked down at the flask, shaking his head, “I don't know, Dean, I just, uh…I wanted to believe…so badly.” He slowly sat down in one of the chairs. “It's so damn hard to do this, what we do. You're all alone, you know? And…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…”

“Yeah, well, don't worry about that,” I said, leaning against the table. “I'm watching out for you.” I glanced to Ellie who watched him painfully. “El’s watchin’ out for you, too.”

She nodded and Sam sniffed, there were tears in his eyes, “Yeah, I know you are. But you're just two people. And I needed to think that there was something else, watching too, you know? Some higher power. Some greater good. And that maybe…” He paused, shaking his head.

“Maybe what?” Ellie asked.

“Maybe I could be saved,” he said, blinking back tears. Realization settled on me, why’d he’d been so eager to believe in what was happening. I felt like the biggest dick in the world. “But, uh, you know, that just clouded my judgment, and you're right,” he said, laughing lightly. “I mean, we've gotta go with what we know, with what we can see, with what's right there in front of our own two eyes.”

I averted my gaze from Sam’s whose hope in something bigger seemed to blink out of his eyes. Ellie was slumped forward, too. Eyes drawn down to the table where her arms were folded on it. I knew she wanted to believe. Wanted there to be something looking out for us.

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, well, it's funny you say that.”

“Why?”

“Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information,” I said, making their eyes flick to mine. “That guy in the car was bad news. I barely got there in time.”

Ellie looked up at me now, bewilderment on her face, “What happened?”

“He's dead.”

“Did you…?”

“No. But I'll tell you one thing. If…” I paused, trying to find a logical explanation for what happened but coming up empty handed each time. “The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I never would have believed it. I mean...I don't know what to call it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, “What? Dean, what did you see?”

“Maybe…” I paused again, not believing what I was about to say. “God's will.”

I tore my eyes away from their shocked faces so they couldn’t see the fear in mine. What brought the two of them some peace was the same thing that instilled a sense of unease. If this really was what Sam had been saying all along, angels, they were one more thing that I knew would come after us one day for one reason or another. It was one more reason we’d have to keep running.

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PREVIOUS: NIGHT SHIFTER

NEXT: BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN

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*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

In My Time Of Dying

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: In the aftermath of the car accident, the surviving Winchesters go to the hospital, where one is stalked by a reaper while another must consider sacrificing themselves to save the others.

Disclaimers: blood, death, car accident aftermath, tears

Word Count: 9.1K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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Sam’s POV

I thought I was dead when I opened my eyes.

I slowly pried my eyelids apart, only succeeding in opening one of them, the other was swollen shut, only a sliver of light coming through.

The sound of a door open and close again was what made me scrambled for the Colt that’d made its way to my feet on the floor of the car. I was able to grab it just before the Impala’s door was ripped off its hinges.

I panted, the sudden movements making my head spin. I held the gun toward the old man that the demon was possessing. He stared back at me with black eyes. “Back. Or I'll kill you, I swear to God.”

“You won't,” the demon sneered, unfazed by the threat. “You're saving that bullet for someone else.”

I cocked the gun, “You wanna bet?”

A smile crept across his face before his head was thrown back, the black smoke escaping into the night sky. I watched as the old man fell loosely to the ground. I released a breath, uncocking the gun and letting my head fall back against the seat.

“Oh my God,” the man muttered in disbelief at the sight.

“Dad,” I groaned, moving my head towards him, my heart sinking when I didn’t get a response.

“Did I do this?” The man asked.

“Dad!” I called to him again. I slowly moved my head toward the back seat where Ellie and Dean were just as motionless. “Ellie! Dean!”

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Helicopters flew overhead, blocking the sun as I watched the paramedics pull dad from the car first. They laid him on a stretcher, whisking him away into one of the two helicopters. I pulled myself from the driver’s seat, stumbling toward the back, clawing at Dean’s door in an attempt to pull them out, too.

“Dean,” I said, trying to ignore the blood that was pooled in his lap. My eyes darting to Ellie whose door was jutting into the backseat. “Ellie.”

I felt hands on my shoulders as a paramedic tried to lay me on a stretcher but I pulled away, begging for them to get them out first, my words coming out jumbled, “No, please, please you need to take them, my brother- he’s bleeding out, please! My sister…the door, please. Please!”

“Sir, we need you to lie down,” a third paramedic said, stepping in between me and the car as two firemen cut the door from the car. I stumbled backwards, the paramedics laying me down onto the stretcher, quickly taking me away from the scene.

“Significant passenger side intrusion. Unresponsive. BP is 180 over 60, heartrate 95,” someone said from Ellie’s side of the car.

I tried sitting up, tried to see what was happening as we got farther from the car and closer to the helicopter they put dad into, “Tell me if they're okay!”

“You have to stay still!”

“Are they even alive?!” I screamed desperately before I was rushed into the helicopter, the doors closing at my feet.

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Dean’s POV

I sat up in the hospital bed, wincing at the metallic taste that filled my mouth. I looked around the room, the events of last night slowly coming back to me. The car, the demon. I ran a hand over my chest, looking down at the stitches that inched over my skin. I slowly threw my legs over the side of the bed, hopping down onto the cold floor, surprised I was even able to walk. I peeked my head out of the cracked hospital door, stepping into the hallway.

“Sam? Ellie?” I called for them, my throat burning. I began to walk down the hallway. “Dad?”

The place was a ghost town. It didn’t take me long to find the stairs to the first floor where a nurse sat behind the nurse’s station. Finally.

“Excuse me,” I said, wincing as I made my way down the last flight of stairs. “Hi. I, uh, I think I was in a car accident with my dad, my brother and my sister. I just need to find them.”

I watched as the woman who seemed to not have heard a word I said. She continued her business, flipping through papers and typing something into the computer next to her. I furrowed my brow, snapping as I waved at her, “Hello?”

I watched as the nurse walked away. I stood in confusion before a pit opened up in my stomach. I raced back up the stairs as fast as my body would let me, praying this was all just a dream. I took note of each patient, doctor, and nurse I passed who didn’t seem to see me at all.

I glanced into each room, nearly at a sprint at this point when suddenly, I stopped at the room just around the corner of the third floor. I took a slow step into the room where I laid, tubes snaking up my nose and in through my mouth. I looked around at the wires, cords and machines around me.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been standing there when I heard them in the hallway, their feet quickly hitting the ground as they came to a stop outside of the hospital room. I turned, Sam and Ellie slowly walking in.

“Oh, thank God,” I said, relieved that they were okay. Vertical, at least. Sam looked like he had stitches in his forehead, one of his eyes nearly swollen shut and Ellie was hunched over slightly, holding her side and a long cut down the side of her face. “You two look good. Considering.”

“Oh, no,” Sam said at the sight of me in the bed.

Ellie looked over me, shaking her head, “Dean.”

“Tell me you can hear me,” I pleaded. This was getting old quick. “How's dad? Is he okay?” I stood inches from Sam, nearly yelling. “Come on, you're the psychic. Give me some ghost whispering or something!”

“Your father's awake,” a voice from the doorway said. Sam, Ellie and I turned toward where a doctor stood just outside of the hospital room. “You can go see him if you like.”

I let out a breath of relief knowing they were all okay.

“What about my brother?” Ellie asked, not taking her eyes off of me as she leaned against the wall for support.

“Miss Winchester, I told you it’s not a good idea to be walking around in your condition-”

“I’m fine.” Ellie shot back, still holding her side. “It’s a few stitches, I’ll live.”

The doctor nodded hesitantly before looking back to me, “Well, he sustained some serious injuries: blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema.”

“Well, what can we do?” Sam asked.

“Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up,” the doctor paused, dancing around his words. “If he wakes up.”

Ellie and Sam furrowed their eyebrows in confusion, “If?”

“I have to be honest-”

“Oh, screw you, doc, I'm waking up,” I said.

“…most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations.”

I looked to Sam and Ellie whose shoulders slumped forward slightly at the doctor’s words, “Come on, you guys. Go find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on me. I’ll be fine.”

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Ellie’s POV

I was able to let out a breath of relief when Sam and I had made it to dad’s room. The doctors had said he was going to be just fine, but we weren’t exactly sure the condition he’d be in when we saw him. His knee, wrapped in gauze, was propped up on a pillow, his arm in a sling.

I managed a half-hearted smile at dad, desperately trying to keep the demon’s words from back at the cabin out of my head. However, every time I looked at him, it was all I could hear, “Hey, dad.”

“How’re you feeling?” Sam asked as I sat in a chair next to dad’s bed. I held my hand against the fresh stitches at my side. They’d said the impact of the truck hit the car so hard, my door was nearly folded in half. They said if I’d been sitting an inch closer to the door, the metal would’ve punctured my lung.

“I’ll be alright,” he said, taking the wallet from the table next to him. “Here. Give them my insurance.”

Sam took the card as he sat down next to me, a small smile playing at his lips as he read it, “Elroy McGillicutty?”

“And his three loving children,” dad smiled softly before turning serious again. “So, what else did the doctor say about Dean?”

Sam shook his head at the little improvement Dean was making, “Nothing. Look, if the doctors won't do anything, then we'll have to, that's all. I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him.”

“We'll look for someone,” dad reassured, Sam and I nodding. “But I don't know if we're gonna find anyone.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows in confusion, “Why not? Sam found that faith healer before.”

Dad shook his head, “That was, that was one in a million-”

“So what?” Sam asked angrily. “Do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?”

“No, I said we'd look. Alright? I'll check under every stone,” he said. A beat of silence passed between us before he asked the one thing that caught me off guard. “Where's the Colt?”

I looked to dad, squinting at him, “Your son is dying, and you're worried about the Colt?”

“We're hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us too. That gun may be our only card.”

I shook my head in disbelief, “It's in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83.”

“All right. You've gotta clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside.”

“I already called Bobby,” Sam said. “He's like an hour out, he's gonna tow the Impala back to his place.”

“All right. You two, you go meet up with Bobby, you get that Colt, and you bring it back to me. And you watch out for hospital security.”

“I think we've got it covered,” I said as Sam and I stood to leave.

“Hey. Here, I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick them up for me.”

Sam looked at the list, flipping it over as he read it, “Acacia? Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?”

“Protection.”

Sam and I nodded, getting ready to leave the room when Sam stopped, turning back to dad, “Hey, dad? You know, the demon, he said he had plans for me, and children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?”

“No, I don't,” he said instantly. Sam only nodded once, him and I leaving the hospital and back to Bobby’s.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Oh man,” Sam said as he and I came to stand next to Bobby at his salvage yard, staring at what remained of Baby. “Dean’s gonna be pissed.”

I cringed at the sight of it. The doors on the left side were folded in, nearly falling off of the car. The tires were hanging on by a thread, the windows completely gone. If the accident didn’t kill him, a coronary when he sees this thing might. “I don’t even know where he’s gonna start.”

“Look, you two,” Bobby said, shaking his head as we stepped toward it. “This...this just ain't worth a tow.” Bobby lifted the hood before shutting it, the entire thing popping off. “I say we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scrap.”

“No,” I said instantly, peering through the missing drivers side window. “Dean would kill us if we did that.”

Sam picked up his laptop that’d been in the backseat, cautiously trying to lift the cover but it broke apart, anyway. Sam dropped the cover to the ground, “Ellie’s right. When he gets better he’s gonna want to fix this.”

“There's nothing to fix. The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined,” Bobby said as he walked around the car. “There's barely any parts worth salvaging.”

“Listen to me, Bobby. If there's only one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on...” I stopped myself, feeling tears well up behind my eyes and my throat getting tighter.

Bobby watched the two of us before nodding, “Okay. You got it.”

Sam cleared his throat before grabbing the list from his pocket and handed it to Bobby over the roof of the car, “Here, uh, dad asked for you to get this stuff for him.”

Bobby eyed the list, “What's John want with this?”

“Protection from the demon,” I said. Bobby’s eyes flicked to me in confusion. I looked to Sam before looking back to Bobby. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, it's just, uh-”

“Bobby?” Sam said, making Bobby look to him. “What's going on?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

“Come on, dad. You've gotta help me,” I said, watching dad as he sat next to my hospital bed. He was staring, just watching me. “I've gotta get better, I've gotta get back in there. I mean, you haven't called a soul for help. You haven't even tried.” I felt anger and frustration rise in my chest as he continued to sit motionless. “Aren't you going to do anything? Aren't you even going to say anything? I've done everything you have ever asked me. Everything! I have given everything I've ever had. And you're just going to sit there and you're going to watch me die?” I took a step back, my chest rising and falling rapidly in anger. “I mean, what the hell kind of father are you?”

A high pitched ringing sound followed by a white figure rushing past the hospital room was what made me turn from dad and toward the open doorway. I quickly whipped around, wondering if I was already starting to go crazy here. I glanced back to dad, searching for any indication that he’d seen it, too. However, he hadn’t moved a muscle. “I take it you didn't see that.”

Seconds later, a scream echoed down the hospital hallway, “Help! Help!”

I darted from the hospital room, following the screams until I made it to where it was coming from. There, on the hospital floor was the nurse from the nurse’s station I’d seen this morning. I ran toward her as she writhed on the ground, grasping her throat as she called for help.

“Hey! I need some help in here!” I yelled to the doctors who just walked by, not hearing a word of her cries as they became weaker and weaker.

“I can't...breathe!” She struggled, her movements becoming slower before they stopped completely.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Sammy! Tell me you can friggin' hear me, man, there's something in the hospital. Now, you've got to bring me back and we've got to hunt this thing,” I said to Sam as him and Ellie came walking into dad’s hospital room, not meeting dad’s eyes. I looked to the two of them, hoping for some kind of breakthrough that didn’t seem to come any time soon. “Ellie!”

“You two are quiet,” dad said. I looked to Sam and Ellie now, noticing the anger that seemed to cloud their faces when Ellie turned to dad, throwing down the duffle she’d had over her shoulder.

“Did you think we wouldn't find out?” She asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“That stuff from Bobby, you don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one!” She said, her voice getting louder.

Sam shook his head, “You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown!”

“I have a plan-”

“That's exactly my point!” Ellie shouted. She’s never yelled at him like this before. “Dean is dying, and you have a plan!” Her words were exaggerated with a finger pointing in dad’s face, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!”

I walked toward them, desperately wishing I could deescalate the situation, but I was just as invisible as ever. “No, no, no, guys, don't do this!”

“Do not tell me how I feel!” Dad shouted back, pointing a finger at her now. “I am doing this for Dean!”

“How?” Sam asked, matching his tone. “How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself, it's the same selfish obsession!”

I rubbed my eyes, “Come on guys, don't do this!”

“You know, it's funny, I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!”

“It was possessing you, dad, I would have killed you too!”

“Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now.”

“Shut up, both of you!” I yelled, but they continued to stare at each other before Ellie scoffed, shaking her head as she turned away from dad.

“Go to hell,” Sam said, his voice lower now.

“I should have never taken you two along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake, I knew I was wrong-”

“I said shut up!” I yelled, swiping my hand across the table next to dad’s bed, the glass of water that’d been sitting on it flying to the floor, the glass shattering. Sam, dad and Ellie quickly looked toward the water in silence. I looked back up to them in shock. “Dude, I full-on Swayze'd that mother.”

The pain in the middle of my chest came suddenly. I winced, grabbing it as I slowly kneeled to the ground, gasping, my airways feeling like they were getting smaller and smaller. Just then, numerous nurses ran by the hospital room.

“Something's going on out there,” dad said to Sam and Ellie who were out of the room in an instant, running alongside the nurses as they ran straight for my room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“All clear,” the doctor said before setting the defibrillator on my chest, my body arching upward before settling back onto the bed.

“No,” Sam whispered, him and Ellie standing just outside of the door. The two of them watched on with tears in their eyes. Ellie gripped Sam’s arm tighter with each second I was flat lining.

“Still no pulse.”

“Okay, let's go again, 360.”

“Charging.”

They used the defibrillator again, my body going up off the bed before falling lifelessly back down when I saw what I was sure I’d been seeing the entire time I was here. The white figure suddenly appeared above my still body, coming closer and closer to my face.

“You get the hell away from me,” I said to it, but it only came closer to my body. I ran deeper into the room toward it. I was not going to let what’d happened be the thing that takes me out. “I said get back!”

I grabbed the apparition by its arm, thinking I’d be able to pull it away from me when it threw me halfway across the room and against the wall. It snapped its head toward me, its long, white hair flowing around its face before it glided past me, leaving the room. Then, the heart monitor began to beep loudly again.

“We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm.”

I ran after it, following it out into the hallway, but it was already gone. I turned back toward the room, Sam and Ellie watching on in relief as they slowly stepped back from the doorway.

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it gets me,” I said, praying they’d hear me. “It's some kind of spirit, but I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it.”

I watched as Sam and Ellie simultaneously turned their heads toward where I was standing. I knew they couldn’t hear me, but the gesture was enough for me to keep fighting to get through to them.

The sound of a woman yelling was what made me turn around, a pit growing in my stomach, knowing that this never lead anywhere good, “Now what?”

I ran down the hallway, glancing into each room as the voice became louder, “Can't you see me? Why won't you look at me?”

I continued to follow the voice when finally, I found her. She was walking up a flight of stairs, turning to anybody around, “Somebody talk to me! Say something, please!”

“Can you see me?” I asked hesitantly. I nearly jumped when she turned at the sound of my voice, her dark hair flipping around her face.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“All right, just, uh, calm down,” I said, meeting her at the top of the stairs. “What's your name?”

She let out a breath of relief, “Tessa.”

“Okay, good, Tessa, I'm Dean,” I said, not really sure where to start the explanation of why nobody could see or hear her.

“What's happening to me? Am - am I dead?”

I hesitated, “That sort of depends.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tessa and I stood in the doorway of her hospital room, watching in silence as she laid comatose in her bed, her mother at her side.

“I don't understand,” Tessa said, not taking her eyes off of the scene in front of her. “I just came in for an appendectomy.”

“Well, I hate to bear bad news, but I think there were some complications.”

Tessa shook her head, turning from the room as she looked up at me, “It's just a dream, that's all. It's just a very weird…unbelievably vivid dream.”

“Tessa. It's not a dream,” I said.

“Then what else could it be?”

I hesitated on how much I should tell her. Rule number one in this line of work was to never disclose what was really out there. However, seeming as she was already living out an episode of The Twilight Zone, I figured being honest would be the least of her issues. “You ever heard of an out of body experience?”

She squinted at me, “What are you, some new agey guy?”

“You see me messing with crystals or listening to Yanni? It's actually a very old idea. Got a lot of different names: bilocation, crisis apparition, fetches,” I listed. “And I think it's happening to us. And if it is, it means that we're spirits of people close to death.”

Tessa looked over her shoulder and into the hospital room, “So we're going to die?”

“No,” I said instantly. “Not if we hold on. Our bodies can get better, we can snap right back in there and wake up.”

God, I hope that’s true.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“What do you mean, you felt something?” Dad asked when Sam and I came back into his room.

“I mean it felt like, like Dean,” Sam said. “Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something.”

Dad looked to me, asking to confirm whether or not I’d felt it, too. I nodded, “It was him. When we were there, watching him…I swore I could…” I paused, thinking of how ironic it was that I was worried I’d sound crazy when crazy ran in the family. “I swore I heard him.”

“Do you think it's even possible?” Sam asked. “I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?”

“Anything's possible,” dad said.

Sam nodded slowly, “Well, there's one way to find out.”

“Where are you going?” I asked as he began to leave the room.

“I gotta pick something up. I'll be back.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said, only being able to be stuck inside the confines of the hospital for small increments at a time. I slowly began to stand from the chair I’d sat myself in, the stitches at my side screaming in pain.

“Stay here, in case anything happens with Dean,” he said, which I knew was his language for, ‘stay here because I know you’re hurt but you don’t want me to say it out loud so I’m giving you a reason to stay.’ “I won’t be gone long.”

“Wait, Sam,” dad said, stopping Sam before he could get any farther. “I promise I won't hunt this demon. Not until we know Dean's okay.”

Sam nodded silently, glancing to me before leaving the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The silence between dad and I only seemed to become thicker the longer I sat in his hospital room with him. We tried to make small talk about the weather or the game that was playing on the small TV in his room. Eventually, however, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

Dean’s room wasn’t any more inviting, to say the least. I lingered in the doorway as if if I got too close, we’d really lose him this time.

At first, I just took in the sight in front of me: Dean’s chest unsteadily rising and falling, the tubes that snaked from machines and into his arms and into his mouth. I tried not to think about how I’d never seen him so vulnerable, and definitely never so lifeless.

I inched into the room, feeling the pain of the stitches at my side as I settled into a chair, making sure to keep my distance. I stayed quiet, my eyes constantly bouncing between Dean and the heart monitor next to his head.

“You need to get better, Dean,” I said softly. “You know how much I hate hospitals.”

His heart monitor was the only response I got but I imagined him rolling his eyes, “Of all the things we do, why’s it the hospitals that freak you out?”

I found myself dragging the chair closer to his bed, wringing my hands in my lap. “Things between Sam, dad and I are starting to get ugly,” I said, watching him again, thinking back to the glass that shattered in dad’s room. “Something tells me you already know that.”

I looked down to the bed where Dean’s hand laid on the bed, an IV sticking from it. I hesitated before grabbing hold of it. It was heavy, part of me waiting for him to squeeze back but it just continued to lay still.

“It’s gonna be alright,” I nodded, squeezing his hand. It has to be.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

“I gotta say, I'm impressed,” I said to Tessa as we wandered down the hospital hallways.

“With what?”

“With you. Most people in your spot would be jello right now, but uh, you're taking this pretty well. Maybe a little better than me.”

Tess stopped, turning to me, “Don't get me wrong. I was pretty freaked at first. But now, I don't know. Maybe I'm dealing.”

I squinted at her in confusion, “So you're okay with dying?”

“No, of course not,” she said, shaking her head. “I just think, whatever's gonna happen is gonna happen. It's out of my control…its fate.”

“Huh,” I said. We obviously had differing opinions on the situation. “Well, that's crap. You always have a choice. You can either roll over and die or you can keep fighting, no matter what —"

The hospital intercom interrupted me, a monotone voice clicking over the speaker, “Room 237, code blue. Dr. Kripke to room 237, code blue.”

I listened, quickly scanning the room number plaques on the wall next to me as I raced toward room 237. The spirit was back.

“Where are you going?” Tessa called after me.

“Just wait here,” I said before darting down the hall, following a flurry of commotion toward a room at the end of a long hallway in the pediatric ward. I watched from the doorway as the spirit hovered over an unconscious girl who couldn’t have been any older than nine or ten.

“Get away from her!” I yelled to the spirit whose hand came closer and closer to the girl’s face. I reached for the spirit, but it disappeared before I could get my hands around it.

The heart monitor suddenly stopped, the doctor stopping his compressions as he looked to the nurses around him, “Alright, let's call it.”

“Time of death, 5:11p.m,” one of the nurses read from her watch. “At least she's not suffering anymore.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When I made it back around to my hospital room, Ellie was sitting beside the bed, her head in her hands before it snapped upward when Sam came in, holding a brown bag close to his chest. She stood from the chair, rounding the hospital bed, “What’d you find?”

Sam’s eyes darted from her and then to me in the bed, “Don't make fun of me for this, but um, well, there's one way we can talk.” Ellie and I watched as Sam pulled the Ouija board from the bag, both of our eyebrows shooting upward.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” I said.

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Ellie asked as she and Sam opened the box, sitting across from each other on the floor, the board between them. “I thought this was just a game.”

“We’ve gotta try everything,” he said. She nodded, the two of them lightly setting their fingertips onto the planchette. Sam took in a deep breath, his eyes bouncing up to Ellie’s before going back to the board. “Dean? Dean, are you here?”

“God, I feel like I'm at a slumber party,” I groaned but sat next to them, nevertheless. “This isn't gonna work.”

I laid the tips of my fingers against the planchette, too, knowing I would never let El and Sammy live this one down when suddenly, it began to move. I watched with wide eyes as I hovered it over the word ‘yes’. “I'll be damned.”

Sam and Ellie laughed in relief, “It's good to hear from you, man.”

“It hasn't been the same without you, Dean,” Ellie said.

“Damn straight.”

I looked back down to the board, slowly moving the planchette. I knew I had to tell them what was going on in the hospital. Maybe they’d be able to help from the other side.

“Dean, what?” Sam asked as they watched. “H? U?”

“He’s hunting,” Ellie said. “What are you hunting? Is it in the hospital?”

I glanced up at her, “One question at a time, El.”

She sighed, slowing herself down, “What is it?”

I began to move the piece over the board again. After what felt like an eternity I’ve been spending here, I was starting to feel like maybe I knew what it could be. “I don't think it's killing people. I think it's taking them. You know, when their time's just up.”

R – E – A – P was what I spelled before Sam whispered it, “A reaper. Dean…is it after you?”

Slowly, I moved it over ‘yes’ again. I watched as their shoulders dropped.

“If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it,” Ellie said.

I nodded as I watched them, “Yeah, you can't kill death.”

Sam shook his head, “Man, you're, um,”

“I'm screwed, Sam.”

“No. No, no, no,” Ellie said as she shook her head. “There's gotta be a way. There's gotta be a way. Dad'll know what to do.”

I watched as her and Sam nodded, packing up the board, leaving my room and turning the corner towards dad’s.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I rounded the corner out of Dean’s room, quickly making our way up the stairs towards dad’s room.

“I can’t believe that worked,” I said, eyeing the board Sam had put back into the brown bag. “Do you think dad’s gonna know how to help him?”

“If anyone would know, it would be him,” he said as he pushed the door to dad’s room open, our eyes widening at the sight of the empty bed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John’s POV

The boiler room was much easier to get to than I imagined. I adjusted the duffle bag on my shoulder as I pushed the glass door open. It was dark, the only light coming from half windows that sat just below the ceiling. Water dripped down from the old pipes onto the concrete floors, making a soft splashing noise.

When I found an open area, I set the bag onto the floor, digging around in it until I found the box of chalk. Flipping it open, I used one to draw the symbol I knew from studying it over and over again, knowing that one day it’d come to this. I just didn’t know that day would come so soon.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I was leaning against the wall when Sam and Ellie came back into the room, the two of them sitting on the end of the bed at my feet.

“Hey. So, dad wasn't in his room,” Sam said.

“Where is he?”

“But we got his journal, so who knows?” Ellie said as she cracked it open, flipping through its pages. “Maybe there's something here.”

I watched Sam and Ellie as they searched the book for anything they could find, the two of them closely hunched together over the pages when they finally found a journal entry on reapers. Their eyes occasionally bouncing to me before going back to the words. I thought back to dad who hadn’t so much as lifted a finger when he was in their spot.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” I said, wishing more than ever that they could hear me. I began to read over Sam’s shoulder, scanning the pages for how to dodge this thing for as long as possible when something caught my eye.

I stepped back from the bed, nearly running out of the room, “Son of a bitch.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I looked into each room, the anger in my chest growing stronger with every minute I couldn’t find her until finally, I did, in a dark hospital room. Tessa sat at the edge of the bed, no longer in her hospital scrubs but a black dress. She was waiting for me, “Hi, Dean.”

I clenched my jaw as I slowly walked into the room, “You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn't. Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want.” I turned to her as she watched me calmly. “Like, say, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last reaper I met.”

“I was wondering when you would figure it out.”

I scoffed, shaking my head at how I hadn’t seen it before, “I should have known. That whole ‘accepting fate’ rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I'm still trying to figure that one out.”

“It's my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want,” she said.

“What, is this like a turn-on for you? Toying with me?” I asked, trying to understand but for the life of me couldn’t figure out why she was doing it. She had so many chances to rip me away, why drag it out for so long?

“You didn't give me much choice. You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kinda hurts a girl's feelings,” she said, standing from the bed. “This was the only way I could get you to talk to me.”

“Okay, fine,” I said, clenching my jaw in frustration. “We're talking. What the hell do you want to talk about?”

“How death is nothing to fear,” she said as she came closer, her hand resting against my cheek. I flinched at her ice cold touch. “It's your time to go, Dean. You're living on borrowed time already.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John’s POV

I sat on my knees in front of the sigil on the floor after having lit the candles placed in each corner. I ground up the bones Bobby had put into the duffle, carefully making sure to only add as much as the book told me to.

Pulling the blade from the bag, I sliced down the middle of my palm while reciting the Latin incantation. I squeezed my hand, letting the blood drip from my palm and down into the bowl of dust. The matches were the last of it. Striking one, I threw it down into the mixture as it quickly caught. I stood, watching the bones dissolve.

I looked around, waiting for something, anything, to happen. I looked down at the book at my feet, wondering if maybe I’d done something wrong when suddenly I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I whipped around where a man stood.

“What the hell are you doing down here, buddy?” He asked.

“I can explain.”

“Yeah? You're going to explain to security. Come on. You follow me,” he said as he began to walk toward the exit. However, I stayed, watching him get farther away.

“Hey,” I said, making him stop and glance over his shoulder at me. I pulled the Colt from behind me, holding it up, training it on him as I cocked it. “How stupid do you think I am?”

The man’s mouth crept into a smile, his eyes glowing yellow, “You really want an honest answer to that?” Then, from what seemed like out of nowhere, two men entered the boiler room wearing scrubs, their eyes black. They walked past the demon, standing on either side behind me. I gripped the gun tighter. “You conjuring me, John. I'm surprised. I took you for a lot of things, but suicidally reckless wasn't one of them.”

“I could always shoot you.”

“You could always miss,” he laughed. “And you've only got one try, don't'cha? Did you really think you could trap me?”

“Oh, I don't want to trap you,” I said, bringing the Colt back down to my side. “I want to make a deal.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“Dean, are you here?” I asked, Sam and I looking around the hospital room as we stood on either side of Dean’s bed. It was getting dark. We’d spent the rest of the evening looking into every nook and cranny of dad’s journal, searching for anything that could help guide us toward how to help him. But, so far, we were coming up zeroes. “We couldn't find anything in the book.” It felt like somebody was squeezing my insides knowing we hit a wall. “I don't know how to help you.”

“But we'll keep trying, alright?” Sam said. I wanted to believe we’d find something. Wanted to believe that maybe, by some miracle, we’d walk out of here with Dean. But as I looked down at him in the hospital bed, realizing I hadn’t felt Dean’s presence again, it was hard to believe we would. “As long as you keep fighting…I mean, come on you can't-” I looked up to Sam who was fighting back tears. “You can't leave us here alone with dad. We'll kill each other, you know that.” Sam rested his fists against the bed as he looked to him. “Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be a family again.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

“Look, I'm sure you've heard this before, but...you've gotta make an exception,” I said, turning away from the window I’d been looking out of and towards Tessa. “You've gotta cut me a break.”

“Stage three: bargaining.”

“I'm serious. My family's in danger,” I said. “See, we're kind of in the middle of this, um, war, and they need me.”

“The fight's over.”

“No, it isn't.”

“It is for you, Dean,” she said. No, it can’t be. Not now, not like this. Not when there’s so much left to do. “You're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same. They can't leave…victory hangs in the balance, but they're wrong. The battle goes on without them.”

I shook my head. This is different, “My brother…my sister, they could die without me.”

“Maybe they will, maybe they won't,” she shrugged as if it were nothing. “Nothing you can do about it. It's an honorable death. A warrior's death.”

“I think I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks. I'm not that into prude chicks anyway,” I said, trying to make a joke I thought would make me feel better, but it only hurt worse. “There's no such thing as an honorable death. My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die!” I couldn’t even think about it. “No. I'm not going with you. I don't care what you do.”

Tessa only nodded, “Well, like you said. There's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body. And that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it'll probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent.”

I cinched my eyebrows in confusion, “What are you saying?”

“Dean. How do you think angry spirits are born?” She asked. “They can't let go and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt.”

Her words made me recoil. My throat felt like it was being squeezed tighter and tighter with the knowledge that I had a choice to make.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John’s POV

“It’s very unseemly, making deals with devils,” the demon said as he walked circles in front of me. “How do I know this isn’t just another trick?”

“It's no trick. I will give you the Colt and the bullet, but you've got to help Dean. You've got to bring him back.”

“Why, John, you're a sentimentalist,” the demon smirked. “If only your kids knew how much their daddy loved them.”

“It's a good trade,” I said. “You care a hell of a lot more about this gun than you do Dean.”

“Don't be so sure. He killed some people very special to me,” he said. His eyes flicked down to the gun in my hands before looking back up to me. “But still, you're right, him and your girl aren't much of a threat. And neither is your other son.”

At his mention of Sam, his smile became wider, more sinister, “You know the truth, right? About Sammy? And the other children?”

I ground my teeth, “Yeah. I've known for a while.”

“But Sam doesn't, does he? You've been playing dumb.”

“Can you bring Dean back? Yes or no?” I asked, changing the subject.

“No. But I know someone who can. It's not a problem.”

“Good,” I nodded, feeling a weight being lifted from my chest. Dean would be okay. “Before I give you the gun, I'm going to want to make sure that Dean's okay. With my own eyes.”

The demon looked to me in mock surprise, “Oh, John, I'm offended. Don't you trust me?”

“So, we have a deal?”

The demon clicked his tongue, “No, John, not yet. You still need to sweeten the pot.”

I watched as his eyes seemed to become brighter and I swore I could see flames licking up the edges of his pupils. “With what?”

The demon came closer, his voice lowering, “There's something else I want, as much as that gun. Maybe more.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I felt like I’d been bargaining with her for hours. I tried everything, but every loophole, every back door I tried to take led me to the same place. I sat at the end of the hospital bed as reality began to settle in.

“It's time to put the pain behind you,” Tessa said from behind me, running a soothing hand down the back of my head.

“And go where?” I asked, but deep down, I felt like I knew where I was going next. There wasn’t enough room upstairs for guys like me. However, part of me hoped that I’d tipped the scales of justice enough to make it to those big pearly gates.

“Sorry. I can't give away the big punchline,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. What's it going to be?”

I tossed my options around in my mind one last time when the lights in the hospital room began to flicker. I slowly stood from the bed, not taking my eyes from Tessa, “What are you doing that for?”

“I'm not doing it.”

We watched as the room was bathed in darkness, a rattling noise coming from inside the walls. A plume of black smoke rolled from the air vent, quickly travelling upward. “What the hell?”

“You can't do this!” Tessa yelled. “Get away!”

“What's happening?!”

The smoke moved fast, disappearing inside of Tessa’s mouth before she turned, her eyes glowing yellow, “Today's your lucky day, kid.”

In an instant, her hand was against my forehead, a bright white light burning my eyes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Dean suddenly gasped awake, mine and Sam’s eyes flying open, “Dean?”

He began to gag around the tube protruding his throat. Sam ran to the doorway, yelling, “Help! I need help!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam and I stayed close to Dean’s bed as his doctor looked over his charts, dumbfounded, “I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good.” He closed the chart, looking to Dean. “You have some kind of angel watching over you.”

“Thanks, doc,” Dean said, holding his side as the doctor left, making sure the doctor was completely out of the room before he began speaking. “So you said a reaper was after me?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“How'd I ditch it?”

“You got me,” Sam said, shrugging. At this point, neither of us really cared how it happened. Dean was here, he was awake, and he was going to be okay. That was enough. “Dean, you really don't remember anything?”

I watched as Dean wracked his memory before shaking his head, “No. Except this pit in my stomach. You guys, something's wrong.”

“How you feeling?” A voice asked from the doorway where dad stood, a small smile on his face.

Dean shifted in the bed, “Fine, I guess. I'm alive.”

Dad nodded, “That's what matters.”

“Where were you last night?” I asked automatically.

Dad dragged his eyes to me, “I had some things to take care of.”

“Well, that's specific,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my words.

“Come on, Ellie,” Dean said.

“Did you go after the demon?” Sam asked this time.

“No.”

“You know, why don't I believe you right now?

I waited for dad to shoot back but what he did surprised me even more. He stepped deeper into the room calmly, “Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Look, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?”

Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on was different about him. It was until I squinted, noticing how sad he looked, “Dad, are you alright?”

He hesitated, giving me a sad smile that almost looked like he was holding back tears, “Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hey, would you two, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Sam nodded, him and I leaving the room, his eyes never leaving us until we were out of sight.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I followed dad’s gaze toward Ellie and Sam, my eyes flicking up to dad when they were gone, “What is it?”

He hesitated, sitting at the end of the bed, not meeting my eyes as he spoke, “You know, when you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after what I'd seen, I'd be…I'd be wrecked.” He paused, looking to me now, clearing his throat. “And you, you'd come up to me and you- you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye and you'd...you'd say, ‘It's okay, dad’.”

I searched my brain for the memory that didn’t seem to come to me. I didn’t know what to say let alone know where this was coming from. I continued to watch him as he scanned my face as if he were trying to remember it. “Dean, I'm sorry.”

“What?” I asked, confused, unable to keep up with the curveballs he was throwing at me.

“You shouldn't have had to say that to me, I should have been saying that to you. You know, I put...I put too much on your shoulders, made you grow up too fast,” he said. “You took care of El and Sammy…you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain, not once.”

Up until this moment I’d only seen my dad cry once in the entire 26 years I knew him. It was after mom died, and he’d been rocking Sam to sleep on a dirty motel chair. This was the second time which shook me so deep to the core I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I just…want you to know that I am so proud of you,” he said, a tear falling to the collar of his shirt.

“This really you talking?” I asked, making him smile softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, it's really me.”

“Why are you saying this stuff?” I asked nervously.

“I want you to watch out for Sammy and Ellie, okay?” He said, avoiding my question which only made me more scared.

I nodded instantly, “Yeah, dad, you know I will. You're scaring me.”

He smiled sadly again, “Don't be scared, Dean.”

Then, he leaned closer to my ear, whispering something I wished I could’ve gone my entire life without hearing. At first, I thought I’d heard wrong. That had to be it. But as he pulled away, giving me one small nod, I knew I hadn’t imagined it.

I watched him in shock and confusion, a million questions running through my mind but his words clouded my judgement. I watched as dad stood from the bed, my head yelling at me to tell him to turn his ass back around and explain what he meant but I couldn’t find the words. I watched as he turned to look at me one more time before he left.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

John’s POV

I left Dean’s room, quickly wiping away the tears under my eyes as I slowly made my way back to the old hospital room I’d been staying in. I dragged my feet, trying to drag out the walk back to the room for as long as I could.

My mind raced, desperately trying to take in all that’d happened in this life before it was over. I thought of my kids. Trying to raise Sam and Dean on my own, I remember thinking that growing up in this life couldn’t be that bad. Now I wished I could go back and show myself what they’d have to go through. I tried to push away the fact that I had dragged them into this mess. I didn’t have to. If it weren’t for me, they would never be in the spot they’re in now.

I thought about Ellie and how she came barreling into our lives and I thought about the day her mom showed up at my doorstep in tears. The way Rachel trembled when she tried to explain what she’d done. The way she held Ellie before passing her to me through the doorway, Ellie reaching her small hands towards her. I thought about how I failed Ellie in the way I never even came close to finding the thing that took her mom, and prayed she’d find it in herself to be able to do that on her own. I thought about how Rachel was the first woman I ever found myself falling in love with after Mary died.

Mary. I thought about her, too. I thought about the way I promised when we got married that I would protect her, and how I failed her more times than I could count. I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t keep my promise to kill the thing that took her from Sam and Dean because it was the same thing that would take me, too.

When I made it to the hospital room, I felt breathless. I never thought my time would come so soon.

He was there, waiting for me. I pulled the Colt from behind me, looking down at it as it laid in my hands before setting it down on the table between us. I looked up at the demon, nodding, as I finally accepted my fate. This is what had to be done.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I walked in silence back to Dean’s room. I tossed around dad’s words in my head, knowing we’d have to talk through what was said. If we wanted to find the demon again, we were no good to each other when we were fighting all the time.

It was the way Sam suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway mixed with Sam’s voice that pulled me from my thoughts, “Dad?”

I followed Sam’s gaze toward the hospital room next to us, my heart nearly stopping at the sight in front of us. Dad laid unconscious on the ground, blood pluming under his shirt.

The world seemed to move in slow motion as Sam dropped the coffee that was in his hand, the two of us racing toward dad, falling to our knees next to him. I quickly felt for a pulse, bile rising in my throat when I couldn’t find one.

Sam and I screamed into the hallway, feeling dad slip from our fingers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam supported Dean’s weight against him as we came to a stop outside of dad’s hospital room, a nurse trying to push us away from the scene, but Dean refused, “No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad!

“Come on,” Sam whispered as we watched the doctor above dad give him CPR. Nurses surrounded the bed, but we could see him, laying lifeless.

“Okay, stop compressions,” the doctor said after what felt like hours, but the heart monitor still wasn’t beeping, the sound of the flatline making my heart drop.

“Come on, come on,” Dean said this time.

“Still no pulse.”

“Okay, that's it everybody,” the doctor said.

My heart dropped, shaking my head as I gripped the doorframe, “No.”

“I'll call it,” a nurse said, lifting her hand to read her watch. “Time of death - 10:41a.m.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PREVIOUS: DEVIL’S TRAP

NEXT: EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

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thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Croatoan

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: When Sam has a vision of Dean killing a young man who seems to be possessed by a demon, the three siblings head to Oregon to search for answers.

Disclaimers: death, blood, brief mentions of suicide, crying, disease

Word Count: 8.8K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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I glanced through the doorway of the motel bathroom, into where Sam was sleeping fitfully on the mattress. He’d been tossing and turning for the past four hours since he mentioned he was going to bed. I eyed him carefully, scrubbing my teeth with my fraying toothbrush.

I retreated back into the bathroom, spitting the toothpaste into the sink. As I came back up, I caught a glimpse of myself in the stained mirror. I ran a hand through my hair, eyeing the bruise that was beginning to blossom over my eyebrow from our last hunt: a rougarou in Iowa. I could recount the exact second in which I slipped up. I’d been waiting for it to come but wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings when it got a hold of me.

For days, I haven’t been thinking about hunts, or rougarous in rural Iowa or even the injuries that came with being distracted in our line of work. No. All I could think about was Sam. What Dean drunkenly told me about Sam, to be exact.

I was gripping the edge of the bathroom sink, my mind racing, when I heard a loud thud from the bedroom. My hand flew to my gun, holding it low as I cautiously entered the bedroom. I glanced around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary except for mine and Sam’s empty bed. I slowly rounded it, finding Sam writhing on the ground, sweat soaking through his shirt.

I quickly tucked the gun away, grabbing Sam by his shoulders in an attempt to stir him from his dream, “Sam…Sammy! C’mon, Sam.”

He groaned, thrashing every which way before his eyes snapped open and he flew upward. I sat back, watching him carefully just as the front door opened and Dean came through, a piece of beef jerky in his mouth and a six pack of beer in his hand.

Sam looked between Dean and I, slowly standing, “We’ve gotta go.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

We hardly had time to find out what exactly Sam had had a dream about but once our trip was in full swing, he seemed to settle down enough to fill us in. He said he saw Dean kill a guy, but that was about all we could get from him.

Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West, the GPS said to us in a monotonous voice. I glanced from the small screen in Sam’s hand up to him, “How are you so sure you know where this happened?”

“There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove,” he said.

Dean glanced over to him, “How come you're so sure it's the one in Oregon?”

“There was a picture,” Sam said, staring straight ahead. He was obviously shaken up about what he’d seen. “Crater Lake.”

“Okay, what else?” I prodded.

“I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair.”

Dean’s head turned from the road ahead of us over to Sam, “And I ventilated him?”

Sam shifted uneasily, “Yeah. You thought there was something inside him.”

“What, a demon?” I asked. “Was he possessed?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow…so was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?”

Sam shook his head, “No. Nothing, you just plugged him, that's it.”

I sat back against the seat, crossing my arms over my chest, “Well, I'm sure he had a good reason.” I defended Dean.

Sam sighed, “I sure hope so.”

“What does that mean? I mean, he’s not gonna waste an innocent man,” I said, but Sam stayed quiet as if he wouldn’t put it past Dean. I raised my eyebrows as I sat forward, looking to Dean. “Tell him you wouldn't!”

“I never said he would!” Sam shot back before Dean could get a word in.

“Fine!” We shouted at each other before going silent again.

Dean’s eyes darted between us, “Look, 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,” we said again in unison.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rivergrove, Oregon

Rivergrove is a small, rural town complete with a strip of one grocery store, a clinic, and a gun store. I glanced out the window at the passerby, each one saying hello to each other as they passed. This was definitely a town where everybody knew everybody.

Dean rolled the car to a stop in front of the clinic, throwing it into park. Sam leaned over the bench seat, squinting as he looked through Dean’s open window. I watched his face shift from confusion to realization before he pointed, “He was there.”

I followed his line of sight toward a man rocking in a chair on the porch of the gun store. He was wearing an army green vest with camo pants, the color bright against his dark complexion. I eyed the long gun he was assembling in his lap.

Dean tossed me my fake badge as we made our way toward the man who only acknowledged us when we were only feet from him. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” he said, straightening his posture. He was already sizing us up. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m Billy Gibbons,” I said before motioning to Sam and Dean. “And this is Dusty Hill and Frank Beard. U.S. Marshals.”

“Mark Hosea,” he introduced, shifting uneasily in the wooden chair. It’s something we see a lot in small towns like these. People like us who come rolling through are unfamiliar, aliens in a town where nothing ever changes. “What's this about?”

“We're looking for someone,” Sam said. “A young man, early twenties. He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline.”

He continued to watch us carefully. This guy was hard to read, but I could sense a small hint of recognition at the description of who we were looking for, “What'd he do?”

“Well, nothing,” I clarified, making Mark drag his eyes over to me. “We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us.”

“Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet,” Dean paused for a moment, searching Mark’s face. “I think maybe you know who he is…Master Sergeant.” The man’s eyes flicked up to him from the gun in his hands. “My dad was in the Corps; he was a Corporal.”

“What company?”

“Echo-2-1,” Dean said. “So can you help us?”

“Duane Tanner's got a scar like that,” Mark nodded, opening up after a few seconds of silence. “But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” Sam said. “You know where he lives?”

He nodded, “With his family, up Aspen Way.”

I smiled softly, “Thank you.”

We walked back toward the other side of the street, turning back up the strip of sidewalk when Sam’s voice made Dean and I turn around. He was motioning to a wooden pole in the ground where a word was engraved. Dean cocked an eyebrow as he read it, “Croatoan?”

I let out an unamused laugh, glancing to Sam, “You’ve gotta be kidding me…you really think?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“What is it?” Dean questioned.

“Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell?” I prodded, but Dean’s confused look stayed plastered over his face. “Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?”

“Yeah!” He said defensively. “Shots heard 'round the world, how bills become laws…”

I widened my eyes slightly as Sam laughed humorlessly behind us, “Dean, that's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock.”

“Whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?” Sam said and I nodded.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that,” Dean said, stepping closer to the pole. “The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan.”

I nodded, “Yeah. And I mean, there were theories — Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight.”

Dean looked between us, “You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean…”

“Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good,” Sam glanced back at the engraving before look back to us, puzzled. “But what do you think could do that?”

Dean shrugged, “Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so…”

“We should get help,” I suggested. I knew that going into something like this, something we’ve never seen before wouldn’t be easy. “Bobby��Ellen, maybe?”

“Yeah, that's a good idea.”

I pulled my phone from my pocket, furrowing my eyebrows when the small screen flashed an error at me, “I don't have a signal.”

“I don't either,” Sam said after checking his phone and Dean just shook his head.

Sam and I followed Dean to a phone booth, watching as he picked it up before pushing down on the receiver twice before hanging the phone up, “Line's dead.”

I sighed, “I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The Tanner residence was a quaint cabin nestled quite a ways away from downtown. I eyed the surrounding trees, realizing just how secluded the place was.

Sam knocked twice on the front door. A young guy, probably sixteen opened it. He smiled politely at us, “Yeah?”

“Hi. We’re looking for Duane Tanner,” Dean said, the three of us flashing our badges. “He lives here, right?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah, he's my brother.”

“Can we talk to him?”

“Oh, he's not here right now.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you know where he is?”

“Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake.”

Sam glanced around the boy, looking into the house, “Your parents home?”

The boy nodding, motioning over his shoulder, “Yeah, they're inside.”

“Jake? Who is it?” A voice called from behind him. An older man stepped up behind Jake, gently holding his shoulder.

“Hi, U.S. Marshals,” Dean repeated. “Sir, we're looking for your son Duane.”

Mr. Tanner looked confused, “Wh-why? He's not in trouble, is he?”

Sam shook his head, “No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all. When's he due back from his trip?”

“I'm not sure.”

I nodded, getting a weird feeling from these two, “Well, maybe your wife knows.”

Mr. Tanner stumbled, “No, I don't know, she's not here right now.”

“Your son said she was,” I said.

Mr. Tanner looked to his son. I took note of the way his fingers curled tighter over his son’s shoulders. However, Jake only laughed, “Did I?”

Mr. Tanner laughed too, patting his son on the back, “She's getting groceries. So, when Duane gets back, is there a number where he can get a hold of you?”

“Oh no, we'll just check in with you later,” Dean nodded. Jake and Mr. Tanner smiled eerily before shutting the front door. We turned, retreating back down the porch steps. “That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?”

Sam nodded in agreement, “Big time.”

We crouched low as we rounded the house, making sure to stay out of the eye line of the house’s windows. I pulled my gun from behind me, keeping it low as we ascended the back porch stairs. We pushed ourselves up against the side of the house on either side of the back door. I slowly turned, peaking inside the window where there was a clear view of Jake and his father, surrounding a woman bound and gagged in a chair.

I watched as Mr. Tanner brought a long knife down and over his wife’s shoulder, blood dripping down her arm as she screamed. Then, Mr. Tanner cut his son’s arm, his blood dripping into his mother’s wound.

I looked up at Sam and Dean, nodding once as I pushed myself away from the house. Sam and Dean grabbed their guns too as Dean took a step back before forcing his foot through the door. We ran inside, our sudden appearance confusing Jake and Mr. Tanner enough to pause before charging toward us.

I shot my gun three times in the middle of Mr. Tanner’s chest, watching him crumple to the floor. Jake made a beeline for the window, smashing through the glass. Sam ran toward the window, training his gun on him. Dean and I watched the wide-open shot Sam had as Jake ran towards the tree line before disappearing behind it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I held a firm grip over Mrs. Tanner’s wound on her shoulder as Dean drove back into town to the clinic. Once out in front of it, Sam lead Mrs. Tanner inside. Dean pulled me back, motioning to the trunk, “Give me a hand.”

Dean unlatched the trunk where Mr. Tanner was curled up inside, a blanket covering him. I glanced around us as Dean hoisted him over his shoulders. I shut the trunk, jogging slightly ahead of Dean as we entered the clinic.

Sam was just leading Mrs. Tanner into an exam room when we entered. The doctor stopped, confused, “Is that —”

“Mr. Tanner?” Dean asked, slightly out of breath.

“Was he attacked too?”

I hesitated, “Uh…no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot.”

The doctor raised her eyebrows, “Shot?”

“Yeah.”

“And who are you?”

“U.S. Marshals,” Dean said, shifting the man on his shoulders as I flashed her my badge. “I'd show you my badge, but uh…”

“Oh. Sorry,” the doctor said, noticing the way Dean was hunched over under the weight of the man over him. “Bring him back here.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mrs. Tanner shook on the exam table as Dr. Lee stitched her arm, “Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?”

She nodded, her voice just barely above a whisper, “They beat me. Tied me up.”

“I don't believe it,” the nurse watching from across the room breathed out.

“Pam,” Dr. Lee warned, the nurse’s mouth instantly shutting. “Beverly…do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?”

“No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next…” Beverly paused, shaking her head as tears sprung into her eyes, “they had the devil in them.”

Dean turned to Sam and me at her words, “We gotta talk.” I followed Sam and Dean out of the exam room, glancing over my shoulder when we stopped in the waiting room. “Those guys were whacked out of their gourds.”

“What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, “If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. I rest my hands on my hips. “Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside.”

“I don't know, I mean, we didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs,” Sam countered.

I nodded, “Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And, you know, if you would’ve taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about.”

Sam squinted at me, “I'm sorry, alright? I hesitated, Ellie, it was a kid!��

“No, it was an ‘it’,” I corrected. “Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam.

Our conversation ceased when Dr. Lee came from the exam room. Dean turned, looking grateful for the end of our argument, “How's she doing?”

“Terrible! What the hell happened out there?”

“We don't know.”

Dr. Lee scoffed, “Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor.”

“We didn't have a choice,” I tried.

“Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner…” I watched as she reached around the front desk for the phone.

“Phones are down,” Sam said.

She dropped the phone back onto the receiver, “Tell me you have a police radio in the car?”

“Yeah we do,” Dean said. “But it crapped out just like everything else.”

Dr. Lee shook her head as she looked between the three of us, “I don't understand what’s happening.”

“How far is it to the next town?”

“It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder.”

“Alright, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help. My partners'll stick around, keep you guys safe,” Dean said, slapping our backs as he made his way to the front door.

“Safe from what?” She called after him.

Sam, Dean and I had a silent conversation, wishing we knew what the hell was going on her just as much as she did. “We'll get back to you on that.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I had only been driving for about fifteen miles through winding roads when I spotted an abandoned car, blocking the way. I pulled up behind it, cautiously grabbing the sawed off shotgun next to me. I inched toward the car, noticing first the blood splattered back window.

As I came closer, I ducked to look inside the backseat where a bloody baby carrier sat empty. Glass crunched under my boots as I moved toward the front of the car, eyeing the pools of dark blood that stained the front and passenger seats. It was everywhere: the dashboard, the steering wheel, the gearshift. Even what remained of the windshield and windows were spotted with blood.

I was getting ready to retreat back to the car when the toe of my boot hit something heavy. I glanced down, picking up the bloodied knife laying among a pile of shattered glass.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I sat on opposite sides of the exam room, Mr. Tanner’s body laying on a metal table between us. Dr. Lee was oblivious to the tension between Sam and I as she hovered over a microscope, her eye pressed against the lens as she examined Mr. Tanner’s blood sample.

I folded my arms over my chest as I leaned back against the wall, gripping my arm tightly. What was Sam thinking letting Jake get away? All I could think about was the other people that’d get hurt now that he was on the run.

Dr. Lee’s intrigued voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Huh.”

“What?” Sam asked, pushing himself from against the wall he was leaning against.

She sat away from the microscope, “His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection.”

“Really?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as I sat up straighter at the new information. “What kind of virus?”

She shook her head, obviously confused, “Can't say for sure.”

“Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?”

“None that I've ever heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides,” she gestured to the sample, “I've never heard of one that did this to the blood.”

I squinted at her, “Did what?”

“There's this…weird residue. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was sulfur.”

Sam and I shared a brief glance, “Sulfur.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Dean’s POV

I kept driving for a few more miles, trying not to let the fact that I hadn’t seen anyone for close to an hour freak me out. I was just coming to the end of the road, rounding a large curve when I was stopped by a roadblock of about ten people lined up across it. I slowed the car to a stop, eyeing each one wielding a shotgun in their hands. My eyes landed on Jake – the kid that got away.

A loud bang made me whip toward my open window where a man had slammed his hand on top of the car, “Hey.”

“Sorry,” the man said, nodding toward the line of people. “Road's closed.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What's up?”

“Quarantine.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Quarantine? What is it?”

The man sighed, shaking his head, “Don't know. Something going around out there.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, running my tongue over the edges my teeth. They sure knew something. “Who told you that?”

“County Sheriff.”

“Is he here?”

“No. He called.” The man’s eyes lingered, an uneasy feeling lingering in my stomach. Call it hunter’s instinct or just plain common sense. “Say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?”

I chuckled, grasping the wheel, “Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, sorry.”

The man didn’t laugh, “I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute.”

“Yeah, I'll bet you would,” I said before throwing the car into reverse. The man quickly grabbed a handful of my jacket, his feet dragging against the asphalt as I reversed further down the road. Gunshots from the line of people made me go faster, pressing down harder on the gas pedal. I whipped the car in a 180, the man rolling to the forest floor across the road. I threw the car into drive, speeding back toward the clinic.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ellie’s POV

Sam, Dr. Lee and I watched Beverly as we tried to explain what none of us could fully comprehend. She shook her head, “I don't understand. Are you saying my husband and Jake had a disease?”

“That's what we're trying to find out. Now, during the attack, do you remember…did you have any direct contact with their blood?” Dr. Lee asked. I eyed Beverly, recalling the way Mr. Tanner had cut Jake’s arm, the way his blood dripped onto her shoulder. It was a matter of time before she turned into one of them.

“Oh my God. You don't think I've got this virus, do you?”

Dr. Lee took a sympathetic step toward Beverly, resting her hand comfortingly on her knee, “Beverly, I don't know what to think. But with your permission, we'll take a blood sample.”

Beverly nodded slowly, patting Dr. Lee’s hand. I watched her movements carefully, but what happened next came so quickly I hardly had time to stop it. Beverly gripped Dr. Lee’s wrist, screaming as she punched her, her body flying backward. I ran forward, grabbing Beverly but she knew what I was going to do before I even did it. She rammed me with her shoulder, knocking me to the ground. She wielded a scalpel she must’ve grabbed before we went down, getting ready to slice it through my chest when Sam appeared above us, swinging a can of oxygen across her face.

Beverly crumpled on top of me, the scalpel clambering to the floor. I panted, my head falling back against the linoleum floors.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I was beginning to think everyone was gone. I drove aimlessly through a small neighborhood, searching for any survivors when, seemingly out of nowhere, a man appeared in the middle of the road, his shotgun raised at me. I slammed on the breaks, my eyes wide.

“Hands where I can see 'em!”

My heart pounded as I held my hands up, “Son of a-”

“Get out of the car! Out of the car!” He shouted. Now I recognized him from earlier, Mark, the first guy we talked to once we got into town.

“Alright, easy there, big guy,” I said calmly as I exited the car before quickly pulling out my own gun, pointing it at Mark. “Alright, put it down!”

“Lower it now!”

“Put it down!”

“Are you one of 'em?!”

“No! Are you?”

“No!”

“You could be lying!”

“So could you!”

“All right! All right,” I said finally, holding a hand up. “We could do this all day. Let's just uh, let's take it easy before we kill each other. You’re Mark, right?”

“What's going on with everybody?”

I shook my head, keeping an eye on the gun Mark kept trained on me, “I don't know.”

“My neighbor…Mr. Rogers, he —”

“You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?” I squinted at him.

“Not anymore,” he said. “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 motioned over my shoulder, “I'm heading over to the doc's place, there's still some people left.”

Mark shook his head fervently, “No, no way. I'm getting the hell out.”

“There's no way out, they got the bridge covered, now come on.”

“I don't believe you.”

I threw my hands up, sliding back into the car, “Fine, stay here, be my guest.”

I watched through the windshield as Mark weighed his options before taking out a second gun, this time a handgun. He slid into the passenger seat, the two of us keeping the weapons aimed at each other. I sighed, “Well, this oughta be a relaxing drive.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I pulled Beverly into a storage room, praying she didn’t wake up before we could lock her in. I glanced at her through the small window in the door, nodding to Sam as we set the deadbolt.

“What if we all have it?” Pam whispered from across the room. Sam and I turned to her, her arms were wrapped tightly around her midsection. “What if we all go crazy?”

“You've got to stay calm. All we can do is wait. The Marshal's bringing help,” Dr. Lee tried, but Pam only seemed more agitated.

Pam shook her head, running her hands over her scrubs, “I can't, I…I've got to go.”

“Pam!” Dr. Lee called after her.

Pam turned, “No, you don't understand. My boyfriend's out there, I gotta make sure he's okay.”

We watched as she made her way out into the waiting room, Sam and I going after her. “Alright, wait, wait. Please. Look, I know you're upset, alright? But it's safer if you stay here for now. Help is coming.”

Pam hesitated at Sam’s words, but the sound of the Impala’s doors closing made her slump forward in relief. I motioned toward the door, “There they are.”

“Open up!” Dean called from outside.

Sam and I unlocked the front door, eyeing Mark who let himself in. Sam pulled the door shut behind them, “Did you guys get to a phone?”

“Roadblock,” Dean said before turning to Mark. “I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside.”

Mark nodded, retreating inside the waiting room. I looked up to him, praying he was able to figure out at least something, “What's going on out there, Dean?”

“I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find,” he shook his head. “What are we dealing with, do you know?”

“Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus,” Sam said.

“Okay, great. What do you think?”

Sam shrugged, “I think she's right.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking to me to see if I agreed with what Sam was saying, “Really?”

I nodded, “We think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood.”

“A demonic virus?”

“Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare,” Sam scoffed. “At least it explains why I've been having visions.”

Dean shook his head as we made our way to the waiting room, “It's like a Biblical plague.”

“Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean,” Sam said. “I've been poring through dad's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony.”

“And?”

“Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Resheph. A demon of plague and pestilence.”

I ran a hand down my face, “Well, that, that's terrific. I mean, why here, why now?”

“I have no idea. But you guys, who knows how far this thing can spread?” Sam asked, lowering his voice. “We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people.”

Mark’s voice sliced through our conversation, “They've got one! In here!”

“What do you mean?” Dean said, looking to us as Mark came out to the waiting room.

“The wife,” I said. “She's infected.”

“We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get,” Mark said, bringing his gun out in front of him.

We followed behind Mark who led us toward the storage room Beverly was being kept in. Dr. Lee’s eyes went wide at the sight of Dean and Mark’s guns, “You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?”

“Doctor, could there be any treatment?” Sam asked. “Some kind of cure for this?”

“For God's sake, I don't even know what ‘it’ is!” She exclaimed.

“I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through,” Mark said.

Dr. Lee shook her head at the idea of killing Beverly, “Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!”

“Sam,” Dean said, ignoring the doctor as he motioned to the door. Sam hesitantly stepped forward, pressing his back up against the wall before quickly unlocking the door. He pushed it with his hand, letting it swing open.

Beverly was crouched in a corner, holding her knees close to her chest. She was sobbing, her shoulders shaking. Mark stepped in first, his steady hands now beginning to shake slightly as she spoke, “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!” She cried, pleading. “Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!”

Mark clenched his jaw, tears filling his eyes. Dean looked to me, “You sure she's one of 'em?”

I watched the woman sob on the floor as I slowly nodded. Dean didn’t hesitate as he stepped forward, shooting Beverly Tanner three times, square in the chest.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The direness of the situation came after the sun fell. Then, all those infected started coming out. We kept the clinic’s blinds drawn except for the occasional lookout. Sam, Dean and I stayed near the weapons, loading everything we had. We had to be ready for anything and everything.

I was loading my own gun when the sound of shattering glass followed by a loud shriek came from the exam room next to us, “Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?”

We raced toward the room where Pam was standing over a shattered blood sample that was strewn across the floor. Dr. Lee checked her over, “You're clean, you're okay.”

“Why are we staying here?” Pam asked again, begging this time. “Please, let's just go!”

“No, we can't, because those things are everywhere,” Dean said as if he had to remind her of the seriousness of what was happening outside.

“Oh god…” she groaned, resting her hands on her knees.

“Hey, shh, shh,” Dr. Lee tried to comfort.

“She's right about one thing,” I said, turning to Sam, Dean and Mark. I hated being here any longer than we had to. “We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming.”

“Yeah, good point,” Dean said. “Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty.”

I rolled my eyes as Mark interjected, “Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice. Lots of folks up here are good with rifles — even with all your hardware we're, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives…”

Those sounded damn good right about now. I glanced back toward the waiting room, thinking about all the infected lurking outside the clinic walls when Sam spoke, his words making our ears perk up, “We could make some.”

I watched in confusion as he stalked toward a cabinet filled with medical supplies. He picked up a few bottles, there had to be something we could use.

“Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!” A voice called from the front of the clinic. Our heads whipped toward the front door and Mark was at it before we could do anything about it.

“It's Duane Tanner!” He called over his shoulder. We followed him to the door as he let him in.

Duane was panting, constantly checking over his shoulder, “Thank god.”

We watched as he came into the clinic, not even acknowledging Sam, Dean or I. Dean glanced to Sam, “That's the guy that I, uh…” Dean made a slicing motion across his throat with his hand, clicking his tongue.

“Yeah,” Sam confirmed.

“Who else is in here?” Duane asked.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief,” Dean said, grabbing Duane’s arm before he could get any further into the clinic. “Hey doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?”

Dr. Lee nodded, leading him into an exam room. Duane looked confused at Dean over his shoulder, “Who are you?”

“Never mind who I am,” Dean said.

Mark held his shotgun close as he stood in the corner of the exam room. He watched Duane carefully, watching him much like he watched the three of us the first time we met, “Duane. Where you been?”

“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!” He said to Mark, his eyes wide. “They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since. Has anybody seen my mom and dad?”

I whistled, whispering to Sam and Dean, “Awkward…”

Dr. Lee checked over Duane, stopping at his bloodied pant leg. With gloved hands, she moved the material away, revealing a deep cut into his leg, “You're bleeding.”

The rest of us instinctively took a step back, retreating as far away as we could from the wound. I eyed Duane, motioning to the cut, “Where'd you get that?”

“I was running, I must have tripped,” Duane said, shaking his head.

“Tie him up, there's rope in there,” Dean said to Mark who nodded immediately.

“Wait-” Duane said, standing from the table but Dean already had his gun trained on him.

“Sit down!”

Duane froze, eyes wide as he stared down the barrel. Mark pulled the rope from Dean’s duffle bag, “I'm sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful.”

“Careful? About what?” He asked, slinking back down onto the table.

“Did they bleed on you?” I asked.

“No, what the hell?! No!”

“Doc, any way to know for sure, any test?” Sam asked.

Dr. Lee leaned against the counter, “I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards.”

“My mom?” Duane looked to her.

Dr. Lee hesitated before looking back to us, “It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so…no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns.”

Sam turned to Dean and me, leading us out into the hallway, “I gotta talk to you two. Now.”

We searched for an empty room, settling on Dr. Lee’s office. Sam shut the door behind us, “This is my vision. It's happening.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Dean said, tucking his gun back into his pants.

“You can't kill him, alright? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, “Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?”

“Alright, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see,” Sam tried to reason. I looked between the two of them before closing the blinds on the large window in Dr. Lee’s office.

“For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else?” Dean said. “No thanks, can't take that chance.”

“Dean, listen, Sam’s right,” I said, the two of them turning to me. “I was wrong before – but now there’s a way for us to know for sure if Duane is sick. You can’t kill him. At least, not yet, anyway.”

Dean shook his head, “Hey look, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you two know that!”

“It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point!” Sam shot back

“What does that buy us?”

“A clear conscience, for one!”

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, “Well, it's too late for that.”

Dean tried to make his way through the door but Sam stopped him, “What the hell's happened to you?”

“What?”

“You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean. Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there.”

“Sam, stop!” I shouted at him, but Dean already spun them around and shoved Sam backwards, making him stumble.

“Let’s go,” Dean said to me, the two of us leaving the room but before Sam could make it through the door, Dean slammed it shut, locking it into place.

“Hey! Open the damn door, Dean!” Sam shouted at him, glaring at him from behind the small window.

I watched as Dean took the gun from his pants, dropping the magazine into his palm before tapping it against the base of the gun. I looked to Sam over my shoulder before looking back to Dean, “Dean, we should wait-”

“You want me to lock your ass in there, too?” he asked, instantly silencing me. “I’m not letting anyone else get hurt tonight and that’s it.”

I stayed quiet as Dean pushed the door open to where Duane was tied up, Sam’s voice yelling from behind us, “Don't do it, Dean! Don't!”

Sam’s calls to Dean were instantly silenced when Dean shut the heavy door behind us. Duane’s eyes instantly went to the gun in Dean’s hand, “No, you're not gonna…no, no, I swear it's not in me!”

“Oh God,” Pam breathed out. “We're all gonna die.”

“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” I whispered to Dean, trying again to get him to rethink what he was about to do.

Dean shook his head as he cocked the gun, “No, he's not him, not anymore.”

“Stop it!” Duane pleaded, looking over his shoulder to Dr. Lee. “Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!”

Dean and I glanced to Dr. Lee who blinked twice, “I…I can't tell.”

Duane began crying as he pleaded, “Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me. No, don't.”

“I got no choice,” Dean said before bringing the gun up in front of him. Duane cried harder, gasping for air as he shook his head over and over again. I watched Dean, his finger hovering over the trigger. I knew he was having doubts. The air seemed to grow thicker and thicker as we waited for Dean to make the next move. Duane’s head hung low on his chest, as if accepting his fate.

Dean kept his eyes trained on Duane before his hand fell, bringing his gun back down to his side, “Damn it!” Dean threw the door open, turning down the hallway. Duane panted with relief, letting his head fall backwards.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sam’s POV

We hovered over numerous bottles of makeshift Molotov cocktails, an assembly line going, piling them up next to us. My eyes occasionally wandered up to Dean who hadn’t said so much as a word since he wasn’t able to kill Duane.

“It's been over four hours,” Dr. Lee said, coming into the room, slicing through our silence. “Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him if that's all right.”

“Sure. Yeah,” I nodded. Dr. Lee retreated back into the exam room. Ellie and I glanced at each other and she made a subtle nudging motion toward Dean. I cleared my throat, but Dean kept his eyes down. “You know I'm gonna ask you why.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said as he filled one of the bottles.

I glanced from Ellie to Dean, “So why? Why didn't you do it?”

I knew Dean wasn’t going to open up that easily and that’s why when he dodged the question, I wasn’t exactly surprised, “We need more alcohol.”

I hesitated, wanting to pry a little more but decided against it. I pushed myself away from the table and retreated into the storage room behind us where Pam was pulling more supplies from the cabinets. I ran my eyes over the numerous bottles, pulling a few from the shelves, “How you holding up, Pam?”

“Good. It'll all be over soon,” she said before I heard the soft click of the door close behind me. I turned, looking confused at her as she came closer. “In fact, I've been waiting for this the whole time.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “For what?”

“To get you alone,” she said. I didn’t have time to react before she pushed me to the ground, straddling my hips. I writhed beneath her, but she was strong, so strong that her knees at my sides were nearly crushing my ribs, keeping me pinned under her. I watched as she slid a scalpel from her sleeve, letting it fall into her hand. She sliced a shallow cut into my chest before slicing into her palm, resting it over mine, letting our blood mix.

The door flew inward, Dean, Ellie and Mark rushing through. Ellie held her gun up, firing two rounds into Pam’s back. I panted as she fell to my side, her heavy legs still laying over my midsection. I reached a hand toward them and Ellie started to come toward me, but Mark grabbed her arm, holding her back. She quickly looked back to him but he shook his head, looking at me, terrified, “She bled on him. He's got the virus.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

I leaned up againt the wall of the exam room, anxiously running a hand over my face, my leg bouncing uncontrollably. The sight of him, on the ground, Pam’s blood smeared over him made me want to vomit. Sam sat on the table, holding the wound on his chest, keeping his eyes cast downward.

“Doc, check his wound again, would you?” Dean said to Dr. Lee who didn’t make any move toward Sam. “Doctor!”

“What's she need to examine him for? You saw what happened,” Mark said.

“Did her blood actually enter your wound?” Dr. Lee asked.

“Come on, of course it did!” Mark shot at her.

“We don't know that for sure!” I shot back, tired of him butting in on decisions he had no part of.

It was Duane who spoke this time, “We can't take a chance. You know what we have to do.”

“Nobody is shooting my brother,” I said, coming to stand toe to toe with Mark who towered over me, but I wasn’t scared of him.

Duane stepped forward, “He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself.”

“Nobody is shooting anyone!” Dean yelled.

“You were gonna shoot me!”

“You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!”

“They're right,” Sam said weakly, making Dean and I turn to him. “I'm infected…just give me the gun and I'll do it myself.”

“Stop it, Sam,” I shook my head, not even able to think about it.

“Ellie, I'm not gonna become one of those things.”

“Sam, we've still got some time-” Dean began before Mark cut him off.

“Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this.” Mark pulled his gun from behind him, cocking it.

Dean pointed at him, pushing me away from Mark, “I’m gonna say this one time — you make a move on him, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground, you understand me? Do I make myself clear?!”

“Then what are we supposed to do?!”

The room fell back into silence. I looked to Dean, knowing he always had an answer for everything. That no matter what, he would always be there to figure it out. But this time felt different. Dean’s eyes lingered on mine for a minute before he dropped them, digging in his pockets. We watched as he pulled out the keys to the car, throwing them to me. I looked at them in confusion as he spoke, “Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take the car, take them.”

I recoiled at the thought, looking from him to Sam, “Dean, you’re- I’m not leaving here without you two.”

“You've got the explosives,” he said as if that made any of this plan better. “You three go with her. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now.”

I shook my head, “No, I’m not leaving-”

“What about you?” Mark asked Dean, ignoring me.

Dean hesitated, tearing his eyes away from mine. Sam shook his head, “Dean, no. No. Go with them. This is your only chance!”

“You're not gonna get rid of me that easy.”

“I’m not going,” I protested, passing the keys off to Mark. “I won’t. I can’t.”

Dean clenched his jaw, “Ellie, you’ve gotta get out of here-”

“No!” I shouted, my throat tightening. “I’m staying. I ain’t goin’ alone.”

“No, they’re right. Come with us,” Mark said to me, but I think the look I gave him was enough to let him know that nothing could get me to leave them behind. We’ve been through too much, done too much together for us to end us separated like this. “Okay, it's your funeral.”

Dr. Lee made her way toward the door, following behind Duane and Mark before turning on her heels, “I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals.”

“Oh, actually we're not really Marshals,” Dean said.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “Um. Oh.”

After she left, Dean locked the door behind her before turning back to Sam and me, “Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something.”

“Don't do this,” Sam begged, his eyes brimming with tears. “Just get the hell out of here. Why didn’t you go with them, Ellie?!”

I shook my head, sitting in the chair across the room, “There’s no point…there’s nothing for me out there. Everything I have is in here.”

Sam clenched his jaw as he held his hand out, “Give me my gun, and leave.”

“For the last time, Sam. No.”

Sam shook his head, bringing his fist down onto the exam table. Tears rocketed down his face as he looked at us, “This is the dumbest thing you've ever done.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?” Dean shivered, trying to make light of the situation that only seemed to get darker by the minute.

“You guys, I'm sick. It's over for me,” he said. “It doesn't have to be for you. You can keep going.”

“Who says I want to?” Dean blurted. My eyes dragged over to him.

I squinted at him, “What?”

Dean crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the counter, “I'm tired. I'm tired of this job, this life…this weight on my shoulders…I'm tired of it.”

“So what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die?” Sam asked incredulously. “Look, Dean, I know this stuff with dad has —”

Dean shook his head, “You're wrong. It's not about dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but…”

“What is it about?”

Silence lingered between us when the sound of the front door opening and closing followed by a knocking at the door made us look up. Dean slowly stalked toward the door, opening it to where Dr. Lee was on the other side, “You'd better come see this.”

We followed her outside where Duane and Mark were standing on the sidewalk, guns in hand, but nobody to aim them at. I looked puzzled, up and down the road where people had been littering the streets, but now, there was nobody.

“There's no one. Not anywhere,” Dr. Lee said. “They've all just…vanished.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - “Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean,” Dr. Lee said from behind her microscope. I let out a sigh of relief. “I don't understand it, but I think you dodged a bullet.”

“But I was exposed,” Sam said. “How could I not be infected?”

Dr. Lee shrugged, “I don't know. But you're just not. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples…what the hell?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, “What?”

“Their blood,” she said, sitting back. “There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south. You should come,” Duane said to Dr. Lee from inside Mark’s truck.

“I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here. If they'll believe me,” she said. “Take care.”

We waved to Mark, watching as they drove off. It felt good that at least a few people came out of this unscathed. I looked to Dr. Lee from where we were leaning against the Impala, “What about Sam?”

“He's going to be fine,” she reassured, smiling softly. “No signs of infection.”

I nodded as Dr. Lee retreated back into the clinic. Dean and I let our gaze on Sam linger for a minute, but Sam shot us down quickly as if he knew what we were thinking, “Hey, don't look at me. I got no clue.”

Dean shook his head as we rounded the car, “I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted.”

“Why was I immune?” Sam asked quietly, almost like he was asking himself.

“Yeah. You know what? That's a good question,” Dean said once we were all seated in the car. “You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I rested back against the Impala as Sam and Dean leaned up against a fence next to a river just outside of Rivergrove. We were embracing the feeling of being outside without the fear of a deadly virus lurking over our heads. We sat silently, sipping on the beers Dean had handed us.

“So. Last night,” Sam began from where he sat on the fence. “You want to tell us what the hell you were talking about?”

It was the same thing I’d been thinking about too. Dean wrinkled his eyebrows as he looked between Sam and I, “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” Sam laughed humorlessly. “I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of dad.”

My eyes darted up to Dean’s who caught my gaze before quickly looking away. I knew what he was thinking when he said that stuff to Sam. Hell, I’d thought about it once or twice to myself, too. The weight of knowing what dad put on Dean…nobody would be able to live with that looming over them. “Forget it.”

Sam shook his head, “No, I can't. No way.”

“Come on man, I thought we were all gonna die, you can't hold that over me.”

“No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with me, man. You're talking.”

“And what if I don't?” Dean smirked playfully.

“Then I guess I'll just have to keep asking until you do.”

“I don't know, man. I just think maybe we ought to…” Dean paused, turning to lean his back against the fence. “Go to the Grand Canyon.”

I squinted my eyes at him, not expecting him to say that, “What?”

“Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know we’ve never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan.”

Sam shook his head, “You're not making any sense.”

Dean hesitated and I wondered just how much he was going to let on. “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 you saying all this?” Sam asked. Dean took another drink from his beer as he began walking away but Sam jumped from the fence. “No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, alright? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit.”

“I can't,” he said. “I promised.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“Dean,” I warned, looking to him. Sam looked over to me in confusion, but I kept my eyes trained on Dean. “Not now.”

“Dad,” he said finally. I let out a harsh breath, closing my eyes momentarily.

“What are you talking about?” Sam looked between the two of us. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Dean opened and closed his mouth as if he desperately wanted to tell Sam, but something inside him was keeping him from doing it. It was several seconds before he could spit anything out, “Right before dad died, he told me something. He told me something about you.”

“What?” Sam prodded, watching him closely. “Dean, what did he tell you?” I gripped the bottle tighter in my hands as Dean opened his mouth, letting the truth run free.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PREVIOUS: CROSSROAD BLUES

NEXT: HUNTED

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

FOREVER TAG LIST

EPISODE REWRITE TAG LIST

@strangedeerconnoisseur | @artemisandromedaathena-blog

WINCHESTER SISTER TAG LIST

@bunnyandy12 | @breereadsthings | @slytherinrising

*DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.

31 notes · View notes

thewnchstrs · 4 years ago

Text

Simon Said

Pairing: Winchester!Sister(OC)

Summary: Sam, Dean and Ellie meet Andy, a slacker who has psychic powers of persuasion that he uses to gain favors from people.

Disclaimers: death of minor characters, mentions of suicide

Word Count: 9.5K

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

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Sam’s POV

It started out like a headache, like it always does. A flash of light behind my eyes as an image shot across my vision: A man on his phone, the man walking into a gun store.

I gripped my head in one hand as I kicked off the blankets, stumbling toward the bathroom from the motel bed. I faintly heard Ellie’s voice behind me as I made my way toward the next room, running the cold water from the faucet as the vision continued: The man asked for a gun behind the counter, loading it with the rounds the store owner had set on the counter to show him. The man pumped the shotgun before aiming at the owner, ensuring him everything would be okay before blasting him with the round, sending him flying into the glass door behind him. Screams filled the room.

I ran my hand under the water, splashing it on my face but the vision felt like it was becoming stronger. The man then turned the gun to himself, settling the barrel of the gun under his chin. A gunshot rang throughout my head as I watched blood splatter across the ceiling of the shop. Just as suddenly as it had started, it ended.

I panted, gripping the sink with my one good hand as I stared at myself in the mirror, the vision slowly fading. Ellie appeared behind me, a worried look I could see even in the dead of night was etched across her face, “What did you see?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

“I don't know, Sam, why don't we just chill out, think about this,” I said from the backseat as Dean drove, the headlights creating pools of light in the middle of the dark highway. I leaned forward between them, eyeing Sam who seemed really shaken up about his vision.

Sam switched off the radio, killing the voice of the broadcaster as he glanced at me, “What's there to think about?”

Before I could get a word in, Dean spoke, “El’s right, Sam. I don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea.”

“Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where.”

Dean nodded in understanding, but something still seemed to be holding him back, “Yeah, Sam, but-”

“Plus, it could have some connection with the demon,” Sam interjected quickly. “My visions always do.”

“That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a, a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?” Dean snapped. My eyes bounced to Sam who looked slightly hurt at his words.

“So I'm a freak now?”

Dean looked from the road to Sam and then as he smirked, clapping a hand down on Sam’s thigh, “You've always been a freak.” - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean pushed the door to the Roadhouse open and on a Thursday night, it was much more crowded than when we were usually around. A table of hunters watched us as we entered before averting their gaze. Jo beamed as we entered, her eyes focusing on Dean, “Just can't stay away, huh?”

“Yeah, looks like,” Dean smirked. “How you doin', Jo?”

“Where's Ash?” Sam interjected on their conversation.

Jo cocked an eyebrow, jutting her thumb over her shoulder, “In his back room-”

“Great,” Sam said quickly, rushing past her.

“And I'm fine...” Jo’s eyebrows cinched together in confusion as she watched him leave before turning to Dean and I.

“Sorry, he's, we're...kind of on a bit of a timetable,” I said, watching him disappear into the back room and for the first time, I noticed the balled up wad of money in Jo’s fist. I cocked an eyebrow, smirking at the thought of her hustling. “Must be pretty easy around here. You know, if you really wanna hustle someone, Dean does this weird eye twitch when he’s bluffing that makes him look like-”

“Alright,” Dean said quickly, grabbing my jacket as he dragged me away from Jo.

I smirked, pulling myself from his grasp, “What? Didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of your girlfriend?”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded, sparing a glance over my shoulder toward Jo, smiling politely at her as she watched us retreat to the back toward Ash’s room. “Because friends give each other bedroom eyes-”

“Okay, enough!” Dean groaned. I laughed, shaking my head as we came to a stop next to Sam who was leaning up against the doorframe of a closed door with a sign that read The Badass Is: IN. Sam rolled his eyes, knocking, “Ash? Hey, Ash?”

“Hey, Dr. Badass?” Dean called louder over the music inside, pounding a fist on the door.

After a few seconds, a lock clicked on the other side before Ash pulled the door open slightly ajar where he stood naked, strobe lights flashing from the dark room. Sam, Dean and I quickly averted our gaze, but Ash didn’t seem to mind, “Sam? Dean? Ellie? Sam, Dean and Ellie.”

“Hey Ash,” I winced, keeping my eyes above his torso, trying to burn away the mental image of him from my memory. “We need your help.”

“Well, hell then,” he beamed, “guess I need my pants.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam and I sat at a table with Ash as he typed away at his computer, his eyes bouncing from his screen and down to the logo Sam had drawn on a napkin, the one he’d seen in his vision. “Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma.”

Sam nodded, sitting forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. We were getting somewhere, “Okay. Do me a favor - check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that.”

“You think the demon's there?” Dean asked from where he stood leaning up against the wall behind our table, watching over Ash’s shoulder.

Sam nodded, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Why would you think that?” Ash asked.

“Just check it, alright?” I said. The more time we wasted sitting on our asses the closer we got to someone dying because of it.

Ash typed into his computer again before shaking his head, “No, ma’am, nothing. No demon.”

Sam ran his thumb over his palm as he thought to himself in silence before speaking, “Alright, 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.”

Me, Dean, Ash and even Jo who was clearing a table a few down from us, trained our eyes on Sam in curiosity. Ash raised his eyebrows, “Okay, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that.”

Sam picked up his unopened beer and set it in front of Ash, “'Cause there's a PBR in it for ya.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Ash said without hesitation as he turned back to his laptop. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean’s POV

I stared down into my third glass of beer at the empty bar, swirling the liquid around and around. It was starting to get late and it seemed like our chances of tracking down a solid lead were getting slimmer and slimmer. I had just polished off the drink when a familiar song filled the Roadhouse. I looked up where Jo was walking away from the juke box as she set her tray on the bar, looking at me in confusion as I watched her. “What?”

“REO Speedwagon?” I questioned.

“Damn right REO,” she said, resting a hand on her hip. “Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart.”

“He sings it from the hair,” I corrected but couldn’t help the alcohol that made the corner of my lips turn upward in a smirk. “There's a difference.”

Jo shot a look over her shoulder toward Ellen who was across the room before stepping closer to me, her voice lowering, “That profile you've got Ash looking for…your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?”

My smirk faltered. I twisted the glass in my hand, “Look, Jo, it's kind of a family thing.”

“I could help.”

“I'm sure you could. But we've got to handle this one ourselves,” I said, glancing in Ellen’s direction where she shot me a deadly glare. I quickly smiled as if to prove I wasn’t a threat just so she wouldn’t shoot me in the kneecaps for looking at her funny. “Besides, if I ran off with you, I think your mother might kill me.”

Jo smirked, “You're afraid of my mother?”

“I think so,” I said, the smile not leaving my face.

“We have a match,” Sam said, coming up from behind me, Ellie trailing close behind. “We've gotta go.”

“Unless you two were in the middle of something,” Ellie said, suppressing a smile.

“Alright, Jo,” I said, throwing my jacket on before Ellie could get another word in. “See you later.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

The sound of low singing over the Joan Jett in my headphones made me pull the earbud from my ear. I furrowed my eyebrows as it started to become louder and as I glanced at Sam, he confirmed it wasn’t just in my head.

“And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight. You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter night,” Dean sang from the driver’s seat. I glanced away from the window as I looked over at him, Sam and I meeting eyes in confusion. “And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might-”

“You're kidding, right?” I asked, the song immediately falling from his lips.

“I heard the song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head, I don't know. What do ya got?” He stumbled, desperately trying to change the subject as he looked over to the pile of papers in Sam’s lap.

Sam laughed shortly as he looked through the file, “Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty three, like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like me.”

“You think the demon killed his mom?” I asked.

“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?”

Dean nodded, “Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho.”

“The point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.”

“How do we find him?”

“Don't know,” Sam sighed, shaking his head. “No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities...”

“Collection agency flags?” I suggested.

“None in the system.”

I raised my eyebrows at this, “They just let him take a walk?”

“Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago,” he said, showing it to Dean. “Let's start there.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Guthrie, Oklahoma.

The diner was small, the air mixed with the smell of coffee and cigarette smoke. I glanced around the room at the locals who quietly chatted, their knives and forks loud against their plates. The place had looked like it hadn’t been renovated since it was built in what felt like the early 70s. Faded bright painted walls and geometric flooring making me feel like we’d been through backward through time.

“You won't get anything out of Andy, guys. I'm sorry, but they never do,” our waitress at the diner said as she filled our coffee mugs.

“’They’?” Sam asked.

“You're debt collectors, right? Once in a while they come by,” she said, her name tag flashing at us: Tracy. “I don't know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.”

“Actually, we're lawyers,” Dean said. I subconsciously shifted in the itchy pantsuit. “Representing his Great Aunt Leta. She passed, God rest her soul, and left Andy a sizable estate.”

“Yeah. So are you a friend of his?” I asked.

“I used to be, yeah,” Tracy hesitated, making it seemed as though she knew more than she was leading on. “I don't see much of Andy anymore.”

“Andy? Andy kicks ass, man,” the busboy said as he slid into the fourth chair at the table, startling me. He had a dirty towel over his shoulder and a pen tucked behind his ear.

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Is that right?”

“Yeah. Andy can get you into anything,” he beamed before grabbing Dean’s forearm for emphasis, making Dean watch him in confusion. “He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once, it was beautiful, bro.”

“How about bussing a table or two, Weber?”

Weber hesitated as if he’d forgotten he had a job to do, “Yeah. You bet, boss.” I watched as Weber left the table and continued on with his work.

“Look, if you want to find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side,” Tracy said.

I furrowed my eyebrows, “Barbarian queen?”

“She's riding a polar bear,” she nodded, confirming we hadn’t misheard her. “It's kind of hard to miss.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tracy turned out to be right, it wasn’t hard to find Andy’s van. We kept an eye on it from across the street, waiting for him to show up at any minute.

“I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet,” Dean said as he eyed Andy’s van through the rearview mirrors.

“It makes me queasy,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the back window and sitting forward, noticing how Sam hadn’t said a word since we started our stakeout for Andy. I slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam, you look like you're sucking on a lemon,” Dean said. “What's going on?”

“This Andy Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found,” Sam said, shaking his head as if trying to make sense of it all. “Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people.”

“We don't know what Andy Gallagher is, alright? He could be innocent,” Dean said.

“My visions haven't been wrong yet.”

“What's your point?”

“My point is, I'm one of them.”

“Stop it Sam,” I said, shaking my head at the thought of Sam being anything like these people.

“Ellie, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me,” he said, but I wasn’t sure I was following. “Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be…” Sam paused, not even able to finish his sentence.

“What?” Dean asked. “Killers? 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.”

“No? Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things.”

“Those things were asking for it,” I said. “There's a difference.”

A moment of silence passed between us and as the quiet in the car grew, my mind began to wander, wondering why exactly this was happening to Sam and what Dean and I could do about it. I felt helpless, desperately wishing for anything to make what Sam was insinuating not true.

“Got him,” Sam said suddenly, pulling me from my thought. Dean and I turned toward where Sam was looking over Dean’s shoulder. We watched as a scruffy man in a long, silky dragon robe sauntered down the street away from an apartment building. A woman still in her pajamas blew a kiss down to him through her window. He smiled widely, waving to her as he continued cheerily down the sidewalk, shaking hands with a man before pointing to the coffee in the his hands who then proceeded to give the coffee to Andy. I wrinkled my eyebrows at the sight as he stopped again, shaking hands with an older man.

“That's him,” Sam said as we watched the two of them speak briefly before parting ways. “That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter.”

“Alright, you keep on him, Ellie and I’ll stick with Andy. Go,” Dean said. Sam quickly exited the car and I climbed over into the front seat as Dean groaned in protest. “El, how many times I gotta tell you not to do that? You’ll ruin the upholstery!”

“Yeah, yeah, just drive,” I said, watching as Andy, who was already in his van, drive down the street in the opposite direction.

We followed him for nearly fifteen minutes before the road we were on suddenly came to a dead end. We watched as Andy’s van came to a stop, the driver’s door opening.

“Nice, Dean, real inconspicuous,” I said..

“’Real inconspicuous’,” Dean mocked, making me roll my eyes.

We watched Andy come closer and we both instinctively reached for our guns as he rested his arms on the open window, peaking his head into the car, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Andy beamed, running his hands over the open window, “This is a cherry ride.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean smiled lightly.

“Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic.”

I watched Dean’s grip loosen from his gun in his jacket which instantly eased my fears, too. This guy was harmless. “Yeah. You know, I just rebuilt her, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, can't let a car like this one go.”

“Damn straight,” Andy nodded, his smile never leaving his face. “Hey. Can I have it?”

“Sure, man,” Dean said, and I was happy to oblige, him and I sliding out of the car.

“Sweet!” Andy said as Dean opened the door for him.

“Hop on in there,” Dean said, nodding once Andy was settled in. “There ya go!”

“Great! Oh, and one more thing,” Andy said before motioning me toward him and instantly I leaned in through the window, mine and Andy’s lips meeting. I ran my hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to me before he finally pulled away, my heart pounding. Andy smirked up at me as he put the car into drive. “Take it easy.”

“Bye,” I said as I stepped away from the car as Dean and I watched Andy pull away from the curb. It only took about five seconds before realizing what we’d just done.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sam’s POV

I watched the man from a distance where he stood in the middle of the sidewalk, taking his phone from his pocket, and flipping it open. He greeted the caller, the smile on his face faltering slightly as he nodded and shut the phone. I knew what was coming next. I had to make it to the gun store before he did.

I quickly crossed the road, jogging up the front stairs to the gun shop. The place was crowded, each face a familiar one as I scanned the room, the shop owner catching my eye. I tried to act subtle as I scanned the wall next to me when I noticed the bright red fire alarm. I glanced over each shoulder before quickly pulling down on the lever and exited the building just as quickly as I had entered.

The man was already standing outside by the time I’d made it down the steps. He frowned, looking slightly disappointed but continued down the sidewalk anyway. I breathed a sigh of relief, but the relief disintegrated when I noticed the Impala driving down the road, Andy behind the wheel.

I widened my eyes as I took my phone from my pocket, dialing Dean’s number, “Dean! Andy's got the Impala!”

“I know! He just sorta asked me for it and I- I let him take it,” Dean said from the other line, sounding slightly confused.

“You what?”

“He full-on Obi-Wanned us! He kissed Ellie!” Dean yelled, anger beginning to set in now. “It's mind control, man!”

“Alright, well, I stopped the guy from killing anyone in the gun store, I’ll head toward you-” Then, like some cosmic joke, I watched as the man stepped off of the curb and into the middle of the street just as a Blue Ridge bus barreled down the road and plowed straight through him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

By the time Dean and I had made it to Sam, they were covering up the man’s body with a black sheet. Sam was sitting on the sidewalk, watching. Dean and I slowly knelt down next to him, but Sam didn’t even look at us, just shook his head, sounding like he was trying desperately to keep himself together, “I kept him out of the gun store. I thought he was okay. I thought he was past it, at least...I should have stayed with him.”

I shook my head, trying to think of something I could say so Sam wouldn’t put the blame of this guy’s death on him. However, as I looked from the scene and over to Sam who already had his head in his hands, I knew nothing I said would make him feel better now.

“Lets get out of here,” I said, Dean and I pulling Sam up from the ground, leaving the scene behind us.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Thank God!” Dean shouted in relief as we rounded yet another street corner in search of the car. “Oh. I'm sorry, Baby. I'll never leave you again.” He ran his hands over the car, checking it over for any signs of damage. “Well, at least he left the keys in it.”

“Yeah. Real Samaritan, this guy,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's gotta use verbal commands.”

“The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus,” Sam said. "Andy must have called him or something.”

Dean looked skeptical, “I don't know, maybe.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I just don't know if he's our guy, Sam.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about this?”

“He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all, you know. And O.J. was guilty!”

“Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?” Sam asked.

Dean pulled open the driver’s door, already seeming to have a plan in mind, “Not a problem.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean pulled the car up behind Andy’s van again. It was in the same spot it’d been last time we found it. “Not exactly an inconspicuous ride. Let's have a look.” Using a crowbar, Dean shoved it into the two back doors, popping the lock, making the doors swing open.

I raised my eyebrows at the inside which, somehow, was more atrocious than the outside. Beads hung from the ceiling separating the front seats from the back, a makeshift bed consisting of numerous pillows and blankets decorated the backseat. A tapestry of a tiger was pinned to one side of the van walls and to top it all off, a disco ball was secured to the ceiling.

“Oh. Oh, come on. This is...this is magnificent, that's what this is,” Dean smiled, nearly at a loss for words as he marveled at it. “Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. There's no…clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger.”

“It stinks,” I said, wrinkling my nose as Sam reached for the books laid on top of the blankets. “I wouldn’t touch those if I were you.”

Sam grimaced as he threw them back onto the blankets, reading the titles, “Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading.”

“Yeah, and uh,” Dean smirked, picked up something tall and glass, it had to have been at least two or three feet long. He held it out in front of us, “and Moby Dick's bong.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Ugh. You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a minimart,” Dean groaned as he threw his wrapper into the bag sitting between us.

“What I don't get is the motive,” Ellie said as her and I flipped through file after file. “I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?”

“If it is Andy,” Dean chimed in.

“Dude, enough,” I said, quickly becoming aggravated.

“What?” Dean asked defensively.

“The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math.”

“I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all.”

“Well, how the hell would you know?” I said, my voice getting louder. “I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?”

“'Cause you're not right about this.”

“About Andy?”

As if on cue, a loud bang came from the roof of the car. We whipped our heads toward my open window where Andy stood, looking in, “Hey! You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?”

“Well, we're lawyers,” I quickly lied. “See, a relative of yours has passed aw-”

“Tell the truth!” Andy said angrily.

“That's what I'm-”

“We hunt demons,” Ellie said suddenly. I turned to her wide eyed.

Andy cocked an eyebrow, “What?”

“Ellie!”

“Demons and spirits. Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch,” she said quickly. “Sam and Dean here, they’re my brothers.”

“Ellie, shut up!” I whispered to her.

“I'm trying!” Ellie groaned before covering her mouth with her hand.

“He's psychic. Kind of like you,” Dean said this time and I looked to him, the words spewing out like vomit. “Well, not really like you, but see, 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 hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right.”

I picked up my jaw as I turned back to Andy who watched us through squinted eyes, “Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone.”

“Okay,” Dean said as Andy walked from the car. Dean slammed the palm of his hand against his forehead.

I quickly pushed the car door open, following Andy who watched over his shoulder in confusion, “What are you doing? Look, I, I said leave me alone. Alright? Get out of here, just start driving and never stop.”

I continued to walk toward him and with every step I took, Andy took two steps back. He held his hands out in front of me, confusion and panic coating his face. “Doesn't seem to work on me, Andy.”

“What?”

“You can make people do things, can't you?” I said. I looked over my shoulder to where Dean and Ellie started towards us, but I stopped them, holding my hand out. “You can tell them what to think.”

“Look, tha-- that's crazy.”

“It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it,” I could tell I was right just by the look on Andy’s face that now began to twist.

“How do you know all this?”

“Because the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities too. You see, we're connected, you and me.”

Andy’s eyes widened as he tried to move out of the way, “You know what? Just, just, just, just get out of here alright?!”

“Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?”

“What?” Andy said, shocked.

Suddenly, an image passed over my vision, a piercing headache following it. This time, it was a woman, taking a gas pump and covering herself in gasoline. I winced, looking back to Andy, trying to focus on him, “Why did you kill him?”

“I didn't!”

The vision came again, stronger this time. The woman was pumping gas before she got a call, agreeing to whatever voice was on the other line. I watched as she picked the gas pump from her car and began to douse herself in the gasoline. The sight caught the eye of a mechanic who called to her, screamed for her to stop as she picked up a lighter from inside her car. She reassured the mechanic calmly: “It’s going to be okay.” I watched as she held the lighter up to her sleeve, her entire body instantly going up in bright orange flames, black smoke pluming into the air as the woman slowly fell to the ground, lifeless.

I gripped my head as I stumbled backward, four arms leading me gently to the road, Dean’s voice breaking through the vision, “Sam? What is it?”

“Look, I didn't do anything to him-”

“You shut up!” Ellie yelled to Andy, cutting him off.

“A woman,” I panted, my fingertips pressed to my temple. I slowly pried my eyes open where Dean and Ellie were squatted in front of me. “A woman burning alive.”

“What else'd you get?” Dean asked.

“A gas station,” I said, squinting up at them. “A woman is gonna kill herself.”

Dean and Ellie’s face morphed into what looked like fear. “What does he mean, going to?” Andy asked, panicked, making Ellie set her jaw. “What is he, what is-”

“Shut up!” Ellie said again harshly.

“She gets triggered by a call on her cell.”

“When?”

“I don't know,” I said, Dean and Ellie helping me stand. I glared at Andy. “But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her.”

Andy shot us a confused look, “I didn't hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, not yet.”

The sound of a firetruck flying down the road made the four of us turn. I nodded to Dean, “Go.” Andy made a move to follow him to the car, but I stuck out my hand, stopping him. “No, not you. You're staying here with us.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

Sam and I watched Andy to make sure he didn’t try anything funny when Sam’s phone rang, the two of us stepping away from Andy as Sam answered it, putting Dean on speaker, “Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you said.”

“When?” I asked, glancing at Sam who seemed to pale slightly. This was the second death today he wasn’t able to stop.

“Like minutes before I got here! I mean the smell hasn't even cleared,” Dean said. “What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start.”

Sam shook his head, “I don't know, alright? I can't control them. I don't know what the hell is going on.”

“Listen, you two were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it- it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“What else is new?” Dean sighed. “Well, I'll dig around here, see what else I can find.”

After coming to the realization that Andy wasn’t our guy, Sam and I were able to relax a little bit more around him. We found a shaded spot under a tree, Sam and I sitting on the edge of a short wall while Andy sat across from us on an abandoned truck bed.

“So…you get these premonitions of people about to die?” Andy asked, eyeing Sam as a skeptic smile danced on his lips. “That's impossible.”

Sam shrugged, “A lot of people would say the same thing about what you do.”

“But...death visions…” he said, his eyes dozing off as he thought about it. “Dude, that sucks. I mean, like, when I got my mind thing? It was like a gift, you know, it was, it was like I won the Lotto.”

“But you still live in a van,” I said, his eyes bouncing to mine. “I don't get it, I mean, you could have anything you ever wanted.”

Andy shrugged, “I mean, I got everything I need.”

Sam nodded slowly, and I knew what he was thinking. If we had any doubts about him before, we were pretty sure now that Andy didn’t have anything to do with what was happening here. “So, you're really not a killer, huh?”

“That's what I've been trying to tell you!”

“That's good,” Sam nodded. “Means there's hope for both of us.”

I glanced at Sam at his words just as the Impala rolled up the street, the three of us meeting Dean as he got out of the car, “Victim's name was Holly Beckett, forty-one, single.”

Sam looked to Andy, “Who is she?”

“Never heard of her.”

“Called Ash on the way over here; he came up with a little something,” Dean said, his hands in his pockets. “Apparently, Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983. Same day you were born, Andy.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows, “Andy, were you adopted?”

“Well, yeah.”

“You were?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “And you neglected to mention that?”

“Never really came up,” he said defensively, making Dean roll his eyes. “I mean, I, I never knew my birth parents, and, and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby -- do you…do you think this Holly woman could actually be my m-”

“I don't know. I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office.”

Andy cocked an eyebrow, “Well, screw that.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam, Dean and I surrounded a table in the county records room, watching as Andy talked to the security guard who let us in. I pulled another box of records from a shelf and set them on the table, watching as Andy lead the old man back toward the door.

“Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here,” the security guard said monotonously under Andy’s control.

“No, it'll all be fine. Alright? Just go get a cup of coffee,” Andy reassured, and the security guard nodded numbly. “These aren't the 'droids you're looking for.”

Dean smirked, “Awesome.”

“I got it,” Sam said, looking down at an open file in front of him. Andy locked the door behind the security guard before looking over Sam’s shoulder next to Dean and me. “Andy, it's true. Holly Beckett was your birth mother.”

“Huh,” Andy said, shocked. “Does anyone have a Vicodin?”

“Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them.”

“Yeah, but I, I didn't kill them,” Andy stuttered.

“We believe you,” I said, Sam and Dean nodding in agreement. “But uh, who did?”

“I think I got a pretty good guess,” Sam said, looking up from the file where his finger was stopped on a line of print, the three of us watching him. “Holly Beckett gave birth to twins.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I watched Andy from a distance where he sat in a chair by himself at the end of the table, his arms resting on his head in shock. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll be alright,” Sam said.

“I have an evil twin,” Andy repeated for the third time, making me raise an eyebrow at Sam in doubt.

“Holly put you and your brother up for adoption,” Sam said as he opened the file he was reading from, “and you went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate.”

Andy continued to stay silent, Dean catching his attention, “Andy, how you doin'? Still with us?”

He sat up a little straighter, his arms falling into his lap but he still looked shocked, “Um. What was my brother's name?”

“Here. Ansen Weems,” Sam said, pointing to the name. “And he's got a local address.”

Andy’s eyes widened, “He -- he lives here?”

“Let's get a look at him,” Dean said from the printer. “Got his picture coming off from the DMV right now.”

The whirring sound of the printer was the only sound in the room and when it died away, Dean picked up the photo. Sam and I glanced at it, stopping in surprise. Dean gave us a silent look as if asking whether we should show Andy. “Hate to kick you while you're freaked. Take a look at that.”

Andy shakily took the photo, his hands crinkling the edges of the paper, his eyes widening even more as Weber’s photo stared back up at him. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam’s POV

“Alright, Andy. Tell us everything you know about this guy,” I said as we drove away from the county office.

Andy leaned close to the front seat from where he sat in the back next to Ellie. He shook his head, “Well, I mean, not much. Weber shows up one day, eight months ago acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kinda weird, like, trying too hard, you know?”

A sharp pain radiated through my head. I winced, rubbing at it with my fingertips, dreading the inevitable that I knew was coming next.

“Must have known you guys were twins,” Dean said, not seeming to have noticed. “Why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?”

“No idea.”

The pain came again, stronger this time as an image flashed over my vision. There was a woman, a bridge. I gripped my head in pain, groaning. “Aah!”

“Sam?” Ellie said.

I gripped my head again, clawing at the door handle in an attempt to get fresh air as Dean yelled my name. His words were drowned out by the vision, sounding like I was submerged in water. “Sam? Sam! Sam!”

The vision came again, clearer, and more painful. The woman- who I could now tell was Tracy from the diner- stepped from a car on the bridge, tears falling down her cheeks as she slowly made her way to the edge. I watched as she climbed, not even hesitating before stepping off the edge-

“Hey!” A voice called to me, a pair of hands shaking my shoulders. It slowly started to feel like I was coming to the surface.

“Hey…Sam!” Another voice called to me. I slowly pried my eyes open, looking to where Dean and Ellie were crouched in front of me. My door was open, my head in my hands. They watched me with fear in their eyes. “What did you see?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

From where Dean parked the Impala a few feet from the bridge, we could see the car Tracy was in, she was still inside. We weren’t too late. If anything, I still had a chance to save her. I followed Dean and Ellie to the trunk, looking over the arsenal, “You two should stay back.”

“No argument here,” Dean said, and Ellie nodded in agreement as she handed me my gun. “Had my head screwed with enough for one day.”

“I'm coming with you,” Andy said.

I looked up from the trunk, shaking my head, “Andy, no-”

“If it's Tracy out there...then I'm coming,” he said, standing his ground. I glanced from him to the car, realizing that if I wanted to save Tracy before she stepped off that edge I’d have to get to her fast and I couldn’t do that if Andy was standing in my way. I slowly nodded, leading him toward the bridge.

I held my gun low, Andy and I ducking behind the car. I could faintly hear talking from inside: a man, and Tracy who was crying. I nodded to Andy, letting him know to get ready, his short nod was all I needed. I bounced on the balls of my feet before standing, using the butt of my gun to shatter the glass of the driver’s window. “Get out of the car! Now!”

Weber’s initial shock instantly turned to anger as blood trickled from his eyebrow, “You really don't want to do this.” I reared my fist back, colliding it with his face, making him slump against the steering wheel as he groaned.

“Tracy!” Andy said as he pulled her door open, taking her from the car. “Come here, come here, come here. It's okay.”

“Andy! I can't! I couldn't control myself,” she sobbed as she rebuttoned her shirt.

I pulled Weber from the car who was still disoriented, holding his nose, “Don't move! Don't move!”

Andy quickly ran toward Weber, placing a piece of duct tape over his mouth to keep him from trying anything on Tracy. I held Weber’s head in my arms when suddenly Andy swiftly kicked Weber in the stomach, knocking him from my grip. “No! No, Andy, let me handle this, alright!?”

“I'm gonna kill you!” Andy screamed to Weber who stared up at him from the ground. I pushed him back, my hands on his chest.

“No! I'll handle this,” I yelled back. “I'll handle this!”

“I will kill you!”

“Andy! Listen to me! Listen to me!” As I was trying to calm Andy down, I hardly had any time to process the long branch Tracy picked up from the road and brought it slicing through the air straight into the back of my head, knocking me to the ground.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Andy’s POV

I quickly looked from where Sam now laid on the ground up to Tracy who still wielded the branch, my eyes wide, “Tracy, stop!” Her hands only seemed to tighten around the it, but tears continued to pour down her face. She wasn’t in control. “Stop it!”

At my words, Tracy dropped the branch. I turned to Weber who was now on his feet. I watched as he tore off the duct tape and spat blood onto the concrete. I looked at him, confused as to how he was able to control Tracy without saying a word. “How did you do that?”

“Practice, bro. If you'd just practice, you would know,” he said. I didn’t know what to think as I looked at him. This guy was my brother, my twin. Jesus Christ, I have a twin. An evil twin. Aren’t you supposed to have some kind of connection with your twin? I mean, Christ, I shared a room with the guy for nine months. However, as I looked at him, I had never felt so distant from anyone. “Sometimes you don't need to use your words. If you have to, all you need is this.” Weber pointed to his head. “Sometimes the headache's worth it.”

“You're a twisted son of a bitch!” I lunged toward him, my anger bubbling over as I grabbed at his jacket but Weber grabbed me too, our faces inches from each other.

“Back off, Andy. Or Tracy's gonna do a little flying, aren’t you, Trace?” he said. I turned to where Tracy had been behind me not two minutes ago but now, she stood at the edge of the bridge, her dress flowing like water at her legs as she looked down over the dam. I looked back to Weber who was staring me down as if he could see straight into my soul. “I'm stronger than you. I can do it.”

“Okay, okay. Okay,” I said, pushing away from him and holding my hands up in surrender. Anything so Tracy wouldn’t get hurt. “Alright, just...just please don't hurt her.”

“Don't be mad at me, okay? I know, it's, it's all wrong. I didn't mean for this to happen, it's just...Tracy? She's trying to come between us.”

“You're insane.”

“She's garbage! Man, they all are! We can, we can push them, we can make them do whatever we want!”

I watched him wide-eyed, wondering what could’ve gone wrong for him to turn out this way, “Are you really...are you really this stupid? I mean, you, you learn you've got a twin...you call him up, you go out for a drink, you don't start killing people!”

“I've wanted to tell you for so long, bro. But…” Weber paused and for the first time, he looked scared, “he didn't let me. He said I had to wait until the time was...”

“Who?”

“The man with the yellow eyes,” he said as if it were the most obvious answer. I watched as Sam stirred on the ground behind Weber.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. None of this made any sense.

“He came to me. In my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me. Wait 'till you see what's in store, Andy, for both of us!” Weber grabbed my jacket as if to emphasize what he was saying. He brought his hands up, holding my face in his hands. “See, he's the one who told me that...I had a brother. A twin.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

The vantage point Dean and I took was up on a hill just behind the bridge. From here, we could see the scene unraveling in front of us: Weber and Andy talking intently about something, Sam on the ground, and Tracy balancing on the edge of the bridge.

We laid our bellies to the ground, keeping the snipers close to our eyes. If Weber was going to try anything, we’d get him before he could. At least, we’d try to.

We stayed quiet for a while before I glanced over to Dean who laid shoulder to shoulder with me. I looked back to our target through the scope of my gun. “Sam told me what you said.”

Dean didn’t look at me, but I could tell that his grip became tighter on the gun as he whispered, “I say a lot of things. You might want to be a little more specific.”

“About dad,” I clarified. That made him look toward me. I looked over to him, too. “About how you think it’s your fault that he’s gone.”

Dean shook his head, “Sammy’s got a mouth on him, huh?”

“I know how you feel,” I said but Dean only laughed shortly. “I feel the exact same way about my mom dying, Dean. I- I don’t know what she did, or- or how. But something in my gut keeps telling me it’s my fault. That she’s gone because of me and it’s my fault. I was dead, Dean.” I swallowed roughly. “I was dead, and I should never have come back.”

The sound of yelling from the bridge made Dean and I whip our heads toward the scene, momentarily making me forget about what we were talking about. But as I side eyed Dean from the scope of the gun, I made a commitment not to let our conversation go undiscussed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Andy’s POV

“Why did you kill our mother?” I asked, the words making my chest ache. Weber dropped his hands angrily. “Why? And why Dr. Jennings?”

“Because they split us up! They ruined our lives, Andy!” He screamed at me so loud it echoed. “We could have been together this whole time. Instead of alone. I couldn't, I couldn't let 'em do that, I couldn't let them get away with that. No.”

The silence between us was filled with the slightest disturbance in the air, a resounding click that didn’t fade in with the natural sounds around us. No, this wasn’t the running water from the dam or a bird flapping its wings or the wind flowing through the iron beams of the bridge. It was the click of a sniper, high up in the tree line behind the bridge. If it’d happened at any other time than now, we wouldn’t have heard it. Except, now, I watched as Weber slowly turned toward the trees.

“I see you,” he said, smirking. “Bye-bye.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie’s POV

It was as if we were turned on to autopilot. Through the scope on the sniper, I could see Weber turn toward us, his lips moving in a sneer. Instantly, Dean and I sat up, pulling the guns from where they rested on the ground. We stared straight ahead, bringing the barrel to rest under our chins. My finger danced on the trigger, waiting for Weber’s command just as a gunshot rang throughout the night air.

In an instant, Dean and I quickly pulled the guns away from us, staring at each other wide-eyed. My heart pounded as I looked down through the trees where Andy stood over Weber who now laid dead on the bridge. Smoke from the gun in Andy’s shaky hand still trailed from the barrel.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ambulance had come just as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Sam, Dean and I stayed far from the scene, watching as Andy talked to police. “He shot himself. And you all saw it happen.”

“Yeah,” one of the officers said. “We did.”

“Look at him,” Sam said as Andy started towards us. “He's getting better at it.”

Andy looked over his shoulder toward Tracy who sat on the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “She won't even look at me.”

“Yeah, she's pretty shaken up,” I said.

“No, it's, this is different. It's, uh, I never…I never used my mind thing on her before. Before last night. She's scared of me now.”

Sam nodded sadly as he pulled a scrap paper from his pocket, “Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here. Here, I wrote down my cell.” Andy took the paper from Sam, looking down at it. “You don't have to be alone in this, alright? If anything comes up, just call me up.”

“Wha- what am I supposed to do now?” He asked and for the first time, the guy who seemed to have the world at his fingertips, looked truly lost.

“You be good, Andy,” Dean said. “Or we'll be back.”

Andy nodded once as we turned to walk back to the car. Sam shook his head, not looking at either Dean or I as he spoke, “Looks like I was right.”

“About what?” Dean asked.

“Andy. He's a killer after all.”

“No, he's a hero,” I corrected. “He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved mine and Dean’s lives.”

“Bottom line, last night, he wasted somebody.”

“Yeah, but he's not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho,” Dean said. “He was just, he was pushed into that.”

Sam stopped, holding a hand out in front of us, “Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death.”

“What's your point, Sam?” I asked.

“Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. You know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us. Finding ways to break us.”

Dean shook his head as he started toward the car again, “Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worrying about it.”

“You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you tell the truth,” Sam said, making Dean stop, watching him over the roof of the car. “You're just as scared of this as I am.”

“That was mind control!” Dean shot back. “I mean, it's like, like, that's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count.”

Sam wrinkled his eyebrows, “What?”

“No. I'm, I'm calling do-over.”

“What are you, seven?”

“Doesn't matter, okay?” I said. “Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find the demon and kill it. That’s all that matters now.”

Sam sighed as he nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”

Dean’s phone rang then. He pulled it from his pocket before flipping it open, “Hello?...Hey, Ellen. What's going on?” Sam and I watched him as his face contorted. “Yeah, we'll be right there.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was Sam who asked Dean to stop the car halfway to the Roadhouse, much to Dean’s protest. Dean rolled the car into the gas station, the harsh lighting of the gas pumps beaming down on us.

“Might as well fill Baby up,” Dean said as he slid form the front seat. I watched as Sam jogged from the car and disappeared inside the gas station. I followed Dean out of the car, watching him as he squatted down next to the gas cap at the back of the car. I leaned against the trunk, stuffing my hands in my pockets, the bitter cold night nipping at my cheeks.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” I asked. Dean glanced up at me before standing to his full height and leaned against the trunk, too.

“Ellie, when I said that stuff, about what’s dead should stay dead, I…I didn’t mean you,” he said.

I shifted on my feet, looking down at the blacktop, “It’s hard not think about it, you know? I mean, I- I think about her all the time. About how, if she had never brought me back, she’d still be here, getting to live her life. But Dean, what she did…she did it for me and sometimes I really can’t understand why she would, or how she did it, but…Dean, we were given a second chance.” Dean and I looked at each other now. “And I wish there was another way, I do, but…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Dean, don’t waste your second chance hating yourself for what dad did.”

The automatic clip on the gas pump clicked as the gas finished pumping. Dean stayed still for a moment before pushing himself off the car as he removed the gas pump but didn’t say a word. I watched silently as he rounded the car. “Dean?”

“Ellie,” he said finally. I turned to look at him as he shuffled the car keys in his palm. The sound of a bell from inside the gas station where Sam was coming out of made Dean clench his jaw. “I don’t want to talk about it.” My heart sank as he pulled open the door before slamming it shut behind him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Back at the roadhouse, Ellen sat us at the bar but had refrained from telling us what she called us all the way here for. Once she’d slid Sam and Dean each a tall glass of beer, she turned to Jo who was wiping down a table, “Jo, go pull up another case of beer.”

“Mom-” Jo began in protest before Ellen cut her off.

“Now.”

We watched as Jo reluctantly retreated into the back of the bar before Ellen turned to us, her hands resting on the bar, “So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?”

“No. Not really,” Dean said, his glass stopping just before it reached his lips, Ellen’s hard gaze watching him. “No offense, it's just kind of a family thing.”

“Not anymore.” Ellen threw a stack of papers in front of us from behind the bar. Me, Sam and Dean looked at it in confusion. “I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?”

Sam hesitated, glancing to Dean and I before speaking, “Yeah, we think so.”

Dean shook his head, “Sam...”

“Why?” Ellen asked.

“None of your business,” Dean said harshly.

“Dean, stop,” I said, earning a hard look from Dean.

“You mind your tongue with me, boy,” Ellen said sternly. “This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad is coming and it's coming fast and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here.”

That silenced Dean, but it didn’t mean he liked the idea of telling Ellen everything we knew. Sam looked from Dean and then to me. I slowly nodded and Sam sighed as he looked back to Ellen, “There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me. And um...we all have some kind of ability.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow, “Ability?”

“Yeah. Psychic ability. Me, I have, um, I have visions…premonitions,” he said. Ellen shot a glance to Dean and me as if asking if what Sam was saying was true or not. “I don't know, it's, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us.”

“What kind of plans?”

“We don't really know for sure,” I said this time.

“These people out there, these psychics -- they dangerous?”

Dean shook his head, “No. Not all of them.”

“But some are,” Sam butted in. “Some are very dangerous.”

“Okay, how many of them are we looking at?”

“We've been able to track a clear pattern so far,” I said. “They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday.”

“That's not true,” Sam said. Dean and I looked at him in confusion. “Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is -- I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. There's nothing out of the ordinary.” Jo came back then, carrying a case of beer that clinked together in its cardboard casing. I could tell she was listening.

“Which breaks pattern,” Ellen said. “So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down.”

The reality of the situation settled deep in my bones. This whole time, we thought we were on the right track, but it turns out we were five steps behind where we needed to be. “And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?”

We sat in silence at the realization. Ellen turned halfway around to Jo, “Jo honey?”

“Yeah?”

Ellen’s eyes danced over us, “You'd better break out the whiskey instead.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

PREVIOUS: CHILDREN SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS

NEXT: NO EXIT

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