Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Supernatural or any of the associated characters, so please don't sue.
Chapter Two
"Well, that went well. Way to smooth things over, Dean," Sam snapped sarcastically as the two exited Ella's apartment building.
"Quit acting like she's the victim, here. She could've apologized, too," Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother. They climbed into the Impala silently, and as Sam slammed the passenger door, he glanced over at Dean.
"This can't go on forever. The end of the world is coming, and she has no idea. No matter how you might feel about her now, you know that we have to stop treating her like a kid."
"It was your idea not to tell her anything, and to let her live on her own," Dean started the car impatiently.
"I didn't want her to be a part of this. You of all people should understand that feeling," Sam reminded him. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but didn't say anything.
"Whatever. Let's just get to work."
Sam and Dean approached the tall, white-paneled home confidently, cheap suits on, and fake IDs in hand. Dean knocked on the pale blue door, tightening his tie as he waited for someone to answer. A willowy middle-aged woman opened the door slowly. Her skin was devoid of any color aside from the deep purple bags that hung under her bloodshot eyes.
"Yes?" Her broken voice questioned.
"Mrs. Thompson, I'm Agent Frederickson and this is Agent Harris," the brothers flipped their badges open briefly, "We have some questions about your son."
"Gavin?" She looked anxious, "I already talked to the police about him."
"I understand this is a difficult time for you, Mrs. Thompson, but this is really important," Sam prodded. The woman nodded reluctantly and moved aside, allowing the duo into her home. They sat in the living room awkwardly, and Dean cleared his throat after a few seconds.
"Mrs. Thompson, was Gavin acting strange in any way before his death?"
"Strange?" The woman paused, "Well, after what happened at that party, I don't blame him from being shaken up." Dean and Sam exchanged looks.
"What happened?" Sam asked.
"There was this party at one of Gavin's friend's houses a few weeks ago. It was a college party, and well, I know things can get dangerous sometimes, with all of the alcohol, but someone was killed." Her voice cracked.
"How were they killed?"
"Drug overdose. That poor girl. They found her locked in the bathroom the next morning."
"What was her name?" Dean inquired, confident that they had found a lead.
"Her name was Hannah. Hannah Kerins."
"Thank you," Sam scribbled the information on a notepad, "Do you mind if I use the restroom?"
"Up the stairs and to the right," the distraught woman whispered. Sam walked out of the room and up the wooden stairs briskly, making the most of his time to look around.
"Hey," a voice came out of nowhere. Sam turned to see a young girl of about fourteen standing in the hallway, "Are you here about my brother?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry for your loss." The girl scoffed, rolling her dark eyes.
"Don't be. You know how that freak killed himself?" Sam said nothing, shocked, "He threw my hairdryer into the bathtub while it was plugged in." Sam's eyes widened, and the apathetic teenager walked away.
Sam hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind him before pulling open the cabinets, searching for a hex bag or a cursed coin. He turned his attention to the bathtub, and right before he was about to turn around, he noticed a thick, black substance sitting in the drain. He reluctantly reached down and scraped the tip of his finger against the mysterious liquid.
"Ectoplasm," he mumbled. He left the bathroom in a hurry, and joined Dean by the front door. They said their goodbyes to Mrs. Thompson and hurried to the Impala.
"Ectoplasm?" Dean asked while driving back to their motel, "So this is a pissed off ghost we're dealing with."
"Do you think it could be this Hannah girl?" Dean shrugged.
"Only one way to find out. We have to see if there's any connection between Hannah and the other deaths."
"Throwing a hairdryer into the bathtub just seems to be an unlikely way to kill yourself, don't you think?" Sam seemed uncomfortable at the thought of such a violent death.
"Yeah. Sounds like this psycho ghost bitch's out for revenge."
Sam got on his computer, and pulled four obituaries up on his browser - Hannah Kerins, Gavin Thompson, Katherine Lopez, and Peter Andrews – the four deaths that had shaken the college town in the past three weeks. There seemed to be no apparent connection between them, aside from their young age and strange, sudden deaths. On a hunch, Sam went onto Facebook and searched each of the victim's names, looking to see if they were 'friends' with each other. Hannah Kerins didn't seem to have an account, but the other three did. On Katherine Lopez's page, there was a picture, posted three weeks prior.
It was a group of around fifty young adults, smiling and holding beers. The hairs on the back of Sam's neck stood up as he scanned the photo. One by one, he identified Gavin, Peter, and Katherine, all standing in different areas, and slightly blurry, but their faces clearly matching those in the obituaries. In the corner, alone and with a saddened expression, was Hannah.
"Dean," Sam called out, excited, "I found the link between the victims. They all went to this party." Dean leaned over Sam's shoulder.
"Good work, Sammy," Dean nodded, "We should find out where this house is tomorrow morning." Dean awaited a response, but after a few moments, he glanced down at his brother, who had gone completely white.
"Look," Sam pointed at the screen.
Ella was in the picture.
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