This story is set somewhere in Season 3. Expect it to contain lots of terror, the Sedlec Ossuary (decorated with human bones of plague victims, look it up), and loose references to F.E.A.R., because the possibilities of what would happen to Sam and Dean in a similar situation are just too good to pass up.
"I think the waitress poisoned me, Sam." Dean moaned, his voice crackling through the speaker.
Sam laughed and turned the wheel sharply to maneuver the Impala onto the main street, careful not to dislodge the phone that was propped between his ear and his shoulder. "Aw come on, man," he teased. "The waitresses always adore you."
"Laugh it up now, but in a few hours I'm likely to be decaying on the floor."
Sam grinned and grunted noncommittally into the phone.
"Stop that." Dean said sharply.
"Stop what?"
"Smiling. This isn't funny."
"I'm not smiling."
"You are. I can tell."
Sam spotted the house he was looking for and pulled into the paved driveway. The house loomed with gleaming windows and expertly pruned rose bushes. A tire swing drifted softly in the wind. "Look, I'm sorry you got food poisoning."
"No you're not."
"In my defense," Sam continued, turning the ignition off and stepping out of the car, "I did tell you that the pie smelled weird."
"Hey, it tasted fine!" Dean protested.
"Uh-uh," Sam said, slipping the keys into his pocket and walking briskly up the sidewalk to the porch. "I've gotta go, Dean. I'll call you after I figure out some details about the ghost. Until then…try to air out the room before I get back."
"I'm going to puke all over your bed."
Sam smiled and flipped his phone shut as he reached out to ring the doorbell.
The door was wrenched open before he could touch it, and he pulled his hand back. "Hello…Mrs. Wade?" he looked at her and felt his eyebrows pull together in concern. Her eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by black circles of smudged eyeliner, and her black hair frizzled back from her forehead in a static halo.
"You're Sam," She said urgently, her eyes locked on his face.
"Yes. Uh…we talked over the phone. Bobby said you're an old friend and that you have a ghost—"
"Come in," She hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him over the threshold. She slammed the door behind them and dragged him into the foyer. "Sit down." She said, all but shoving him onto an old wooden chair in the corner before dashing over to a bookcase.
Sam gripped the handles of the chair and half raised himself out of it.
"I said sit down!" Mrs. Wade shrieked at him.
Sam sunk down into the seat hurriedly. "Sorry, sorry. What are you…"
"You're early." She shot back, engrossed in pulling books off the shelves and tossing them dismissively onto the hardwood floor. "I haven't found it yet."
"Found what?" Sam said slowly. His hand tensed around the phone in his pocket.
"Found what? Found what?" she shouted, throwing a book at him. "Oh, nothing. Nothing important. Just the thing that's going to save your life!" She turned back to the shelves and continued throwing books aside. "It's not here. Not. Here. Where is it?"
Sam sat in the chair, eyes wide, the book she had hurled at him clutched tightly in his hands. He looked at the cover and saw that it was titled History of Telekinetic Occurrences. "Okay, just calm down," he said, putting the book gently on the floor, "If this is about the ghost you don't have to worry, Dean and I are very good at getting rid of angry spirits."
She laughed. "There's no damn ghost." She said, "We don't have a ghost. I would love to have a ghost. It would make things so much simpler to just have a ghost."
Sam moved to get up. "But you said—"
"Sit down!" she roared, hurling another book at him.
Sam dodged the book and planted himself firmly in the chair. "Right. Look, I am sitting, okay? Stop throwing things at me and let me help you."
"No no no no no." She said, and then she moved toward him and put her hands on each arm rest of his chair so that she was looming over him. "No. No, you have it backwards. Completely askew. Flip-floppy-flopped."
Sam leaned back in the chair. Her breath smelled like moldy cheese, she was probably insane, and he needed to bring this meeting to a close. "Is there a ghost, Mrs. Wade?"
"No," she said, and leaned closer to whisper in his ear, "Just my daughter." She released the arms of the chair and rushed over to a set of drawers and started pulling trinkets out. They shattered on the floor.
Sam stayed in the chair. "Can I leave now?"
"Hmmm…well, do you want to die?"
"Uh…no."
"Then no, you can't leave."
Sam looked around, trying to spot a weapon on her. He couldn't see anything, and she wasn't even looking at him. "Are you planning on killing me?"
She hurled a glass candle into the wall above his head. "Me?" she laughed, "Oh calm down, I didn't hit you with that. Sit. I said sit. Now you listen here, boy. I'm helping you. Cause she's targeted you, you see. She wants you. And once she sees something she wants, she damn well gets it every damn time."
Sam kept his head down, feeling the glass shards catch in the folds of his shirt. "Who's targeting me?"
"My daughter."
"Is she dead?"
"No one knows."
"You haven't found her body?"
"Oh no no, we know where she is, we just don't know if she's dead. She should be. We thought we killed her, but she can't be dead because she keeps killing people, but no one's suicidal enough to want to check on her. So no one really knows."
"You thought you killed her?" Sam repeated weakly, trying to get some grasp of the situation.
"They should have killed her sooner. But nooooooo, they thought they could contain her. They thought they could lock her up and control her. Stupid bastards."
"Can I call my brother?" Sam said in a rush.
"Go ahead. Just don't get up. I don't want to have to worry about where you are."
Sam got out his phone and dialed, watching her throw objects across the room in her search.
"That was quick." Dean mumbled into the phone.
"Um…" Sam said, ducking as a ceramic plate hit the wall above his head. "The situation has escalated a bit."
"What?" Dean asked, sounding more awake. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, there's no ghost."
There was a pause. "Bobby said there was a ghost. He said he knew this woman."
"Yeah…" Sam said, "I'm starting to doubt the truth of that."
"What's that sound?"
"Mrs. Wade is throwing…everything. She's trying to find something."
"What?"
"She won't say. But she said that the thing she's looking for is supposed to save my life and that I shouldn't leave unless I want to die because her daughter, who should be dead but might not be, has targeted me."
There was a longer pause as Dean tried to work that out. "…what?"
"I don't know."
"No, really, what does that mean?"
"I don't know."
"Well find out!"
The lights flickered. Mrs. Wade froze.
"Sam?" Dean said worriedly.
Sam stood up. The lights flickered again, pulsing. The air shimmered.
"Sam?" Dean said again.
"Just a little electrical problem." Sam said calmly, looking around for a ghost or a dead girl or a not dead girl and seeing nothing.
"I'm coming over." Dean said, and Sam heard the sounds of him getting his equipment together. "Just…go outside or something. Wait until I get there." Sam got up from the chair, and Mrs. Wade slowly swiveled her head to look at him.
The lights went out completely.
Sam froze in the blackness, blinking furiously to get his eyes used to the dark. He swept his hand back to find some type of weapon but came up empty. He realized that Dean was shouting at him. "What?" he muttered.
"What the hell happened?" Dean snapped.
"Power went out," he said, "Can't see a thing. I don't get it, there were windows..." he trailed off at the sound of heavy breathing.
The lights flickered, and Mrs. Wade was standing three feet away from him, blood pouring from her eyes.
The lights went out.
Sam leaped backward, slamming into something solid. He hurriedly made his way across the wall. Dean was yelling something in his ear, but the sound seemed strangely muted.
The lights flashed again, and Mrs. Wade was hanging upside down in front of him on the ceiling, her mouth inches from his, gaping open and pouring blood onto the floor.
The lights went out.
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