Chapter 1: A Spell of Fainting
"Damn! We gotta stop doing this shit!" Sam said, gasping as his hand came away from chest covered in blood.
"Eh, it's a living," Dean muttered. He had his cuts and bruises too. He was more worried about his car though. "Damn shapeshifters, always gotta throw things around."
There was a small scratch on the hood of his baby, evidence of the fun they had being thrown around.
"So," Sam said, collapsing in the passenger seat. He watched Dean climb in the driver's seat. "Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Oregon?"
"Nope," Dean smirked. "Texas."
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"Sally!" Morgan called out in panic. "Sally! Help!!!"
Sally came running out of her bedroom, fingernails still wet, tacky, and bright violet. "What is it? What's wrong?!"
"Help!" Morgan yelped. Sally spun around the corner into the bathroom and bent over laughing.
"This isn't funny!" Her roommate was nearly in tears. She had just gotten out of the shower and was reaching for the towel when the bane of their existences, the poltergeist from hell, had jerked it out of her reach. Now, she was suspended in midair, naked except for her long red hair. The towels were twirling around her in a demented midair dance. "Sally!"
Finally over her laughter, Sally ran into the room and grabbed Morgan's ankle. She tugged hard and down she came. They tumbled to the floor, a tangle of limbs, hair, and now released towels.
Morgan glanced over at Sally. "We have got to get some help."
"Yeah," she murmured. "But let's not mention the naked dog-pile, okay?"
With a philosophical shrug, Morgan stood up and wrapped a towel around herself. "Well, ya know, it happens!"
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"So, what's in Texas that's so important?" Sam asked as he folded the map to show their route and handed it to Dean.
After studying it for a moment, Dean handed it back and gave his younger brother a cocky smile. "A poltergeist."
Sam groaned. "Not again!"
"Yup, only this time, it's in some college girls' apartment," Dean started practically drooling. "Two beautiful, young, scared college girls."
Sam elbowed his brother, trying to keep him on topic. "So? Poltergeist? Any violent history in the place?"
"Nope," Dean admitted. "Apparently the two girls are both witches and tried to fix the problem themselves but nothing worked. They did their research: place was built 10 years ago, before then it was just empty pasture. No murders, suicides, Indian burial sites, unmarked graves, or curses attached to that patch of nothing."
"Hmm . . ."
Dean could practically see the wheels turning in Sam's head as he mused over the information.
"So we have a poltergeist haunting two girls past adolescence so they aren't the ones causing it. The ground their apartment is on has no violent past. Plus, apparently none of the other apartments are having trouble, another point against it being the earth." Sam ticked points off on his fingers. "Two witches, so they should have the strength to expel this themselves but can't." He glanced over at his older brother. "You know, this is gonna suck majorly, right?"
Dean smirked. "That's what makes it fun!" He pressed the gas pedal to the floor and shot off in the night.
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Morgan lit the final candle and settled on the floor, legs folded. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the angelica and thyme she had burning. Rubbing the silver medallion hanging from her neck, she tried to find her inner calm. It was difficult however, with the poltergeist banging on the surface of her protective circle.
"Leave me alone," she half-sang through clenched teeth. The attacks were getting more violent and more frequent as the days past. It was hard to believe this had begun a mere month ago. At first it had been little things: doors closing on their own, taps opening and closing, shorts in the electricity. Things had quickly escalated. Early this morning, barely past midnight, both she and Sally had been awoken to find their covers and bedclothes being ripped off. Soon, invisible hands had picked them up and threw them against the walls. By the time the attack was over, their bodies were covered in scratches and bruises. They had cast a circle, curled up together on the living room floor, and cried themselves to sleep.
"No more," she muttered and reached for her chalk. She closed her eyes and started chanting. Latin flowed from her mouth, into the air, and began taking shape. The chant guided her hand, chalk to the hardwood floor, tracing symbols whose meaning was no longer known. The power built up more and more. The symbols and chanting flowed quicker now, reaching a crescendo.
The front door flew open and two men stepped in. Sally came flying out of the kitchen. "Morgan! No!"
The magic peaked, in invisible wind raising her hair, lightening flickering in the depths of blue eyes. "So mote it be!" she shouted, finishing the spell. Light flared, pulsed out, then, with a sound like a popping balloon, burned out.
"Well damn!" Morgan stated, then keeled over in a dead faint.