Hello all!! Okay, so I normally don't like to do convenient things for the boys but considering the crap they've gone through in the past two chapters, convenience seemed necessary. The hammer is convenient, lol just wanted to get that out. Hope you all like it!! :D
Sam blinked up to the ceiling, wincing as the feeling came back into his body. He could feel the carpet under his shoulders, shattered ceramic outlining his body and covering him in a fine layer of dust. Everything hurt and he felt like been run over by a tank; each breath felt heavy and awkward. Blood oozed down one side of his neck. He blinked again and tried to push himself up, knowing Dean would be worried sick if he wasn't in the middle of ghost battle with Julia. Something heavy was sprawled across his chest, pinning him to the floor, and for the first time Sam looked down. "Oh God, Dean!"
The older boy had taken the hit instead, a jagged, bloody gash slicing through the skin at his hair line. Blood streaked his face down to his jaw, dripping a little further and landing on Sam. He moaned softly in the back of his throat at the sound of his name but he was nowhere near conscious.
"Dean…!" Sam begged, shaking his brother by the shoulder gently. "Dean!" It wasn't having much of an affect on him; that vase had weighed at least five pounds all by itself and the fact that it had been hurtled across the room like a Frisbee meant that it had provided a pretty good blow to the head.
Sam looked across the room to where Julia had last been standing. He wasn't sure how long they'd both been on the floor but meant there was probably only a few minutes before she reappeared. And that was if they were lucky which, by Sam's outlook on the evening, they weren't. He needed to get Dean some help, fast, but he also knew that if they left now, they probably wouldn't be able to come back. Considering how much more violent Julia was getting by the minute, another visit may end in the death of both of them. With a grunt, Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, cradling his older brother carefully to prevent the obvious damage from getting any worse.
"S'm…" Dean mumbled, squeezing his already closed eyes shut a little tighter and wincing in pain.
"Shh…it's okay…" Sam whispered in return, pulling off his jacket and pressing one of the sleeves to the cut. It didn't appear very deep, head wounds are notorious bleeders, but the unconsciousness was a possible indication of a concussion which meant a hospital was probably their next stop. He carefully moved Dean away from the banister in case Julia decided to knock him through it and laid him next to the wall. He pressed a little harder on the wound, apologizing softly when Dean groaned again, and tucked the rest of the jacket behind his head. The first aid skills their father had forced into them were coming back and Sam was stuck in autopilot now.
There was a ripping noise a few feet away in front of the stairs like a zipper being pulled. The air got colder and the banister began to tremble ever so slightly. Sam grabbed one of the salt shells from the jacket and stood slowly, positioning himself in front of Dean protectively and keeping his back to the wall. He was alone in this now; he had to keep his brother safe and take on a really pissed of ghost at the same time. No problem.
Julia appeared closer than he expected and swiped at him with her hand. "Get out!!" She screamed, her fingers hooking into the collar of Sam's shirt and slinging him across the hall.
Sam collided with the wall sharply, wincing as the air was knocked out of him for second time that night. The window above him trembled, broken glass rattling in the open pane. Sam forced himself to stand, squaring his shoulders and shrugging off the dull ache in his back. The woman glared at him, obviously not concerned with Dean anymore considering the older boy was still struggling toward consciousness. Relieved that his brother appeared to be out of harm's way for the moment, Sam returned his gaze to the spectral woman and met her with a glare of his own.
Julia grit her teeth and lunged at him again, grabbing him by the shirt and slinging him toward the open window. Sam tried to grab her arms but his hand passed straight through; the air where her arm should have been was damp and icy like fog in the middle of winter. With that plan falling flat, Sam felt a moment of weightlessness as he was tossed out of the broken window and landed hard on the roof. His right arm hooked inside the window frame, preventing him from rolling off the roof and falling to the driveway two stories below. Broken glass ripped through fabric and skin, slicing deeply and causing blood to rush to the surface. Sam clenched his teeth, biting away the pain, and focused on hanging on. The roof was steep, dropping at a sharp angle straight to the ground, and letting go did not seem to be the best plan at the time.
Julia grabbed his hand, trying to pry his fingers off the window pane. Sam simply tightened his hold, wincing as the glass cut deeper. This wasn't good; she was getting stronger and it was taking longer for her to dissipate between each attack. He needed to finish this soon or there would be no one left to do it. He'd only grabbed one shell so there was only one shot at this. Forcing himself to keep a grip on the window, Sam turned suddenly and tossed to rock salt into Julia's face.
Julia screamed in surprise and outrage, covering her face with her hands and backing away from the window. She began to flicker, her shape fading in and out in the darkened hallway, then, all at once, she was gone.
Sam waited for a few seconds until he was sure she was gone for the moment before pulling himself back inside and dropping to the ground. He clenched his teeth and looked at his wounded wrist, cursing softly as he did. The skin was ripped and torn in several places, long, vertical cuts from his swing out onto the roof, and at least three were deep enough to gush freely without pressure. The sight of so much blood made him a little dizzy but he pushed it back and climbed to his feet. There was a pillow case at the entrance of the bedroom and since no one was here to protest, Sam grabbed it and ripped it at the seam, pulling long strips away one at a time. He wrapped the strips around his wrist tightly, ignoring the way the blood reappeared after wrap of the fabric. He tied it over the deeper cuts, hoping to cut off the circulation long enough finish the job.
Dean had managed to regain consciousness and was working at standing up when Sam came back into the hallway. "Damn…ghost bitch can throw a punch…" He muttered, wiping the excess blood from his forehead with one hand.
"Dean, maybe you should sit back down." Sam said, noticing the unsteady sway his brother had developed while upright.
"Nah, I'm alright…just dizzy for a minute." He looked at Sam and squinted for a second. "You alright? Did she get you at all?"
Sam unconsciously pressed his injured arm a little closer and nodded. Yeah, I'm alright. Just a little banged up is all." He couldn't tell Dean about the injury, not yet at least. There was still way too much to do without him worrying over Sam. Besides, this hunt was important to Dean; it was their first solo mission after all. If he found out about it, he would probably tell their father and that would be the end of the solo hunts for a while. Not only that but he didn't want their dad to take it out on Dean because Sam had been careless; that wasn't fair. The cuts didn't look too bad after all; the bleeding should stop on its own in a few minutes.
"Sammy?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow slightly at his brother's silence.
"Oh, sorry. I'm fine, just trying to think of where Julia would be buried…" Sam muttered, scanning the hallway carefully. This was the place where she was most powerful so it should be somewhere nearby- "Dean…" Sam said, pointing to an area a few feet away.
The older boy turned, looking to the spot Sam had been pointing to. In the middle of the floor, a few feet away from the top of the stairs, was a darkened patch of carpet. They were both certain it hadn't been there before, at least not that they had noticed. The air around the area felt noticeably colder as if an air vent were right above them. Sam grabbed his jacket from the floor and slipped it back on, goose bumps raising across his skin.
"Look's promising." Dean said, dropping to one knee slowly and taking a deep breath against the dizziness that assaulted him. He pulled a pocket knife from his jacket and sliced through the carpet, peeling it back with a sharp rip. The floorboards were stained black, the wood rotted and damp in just that one spot. It stretched about three feet across, diagonally, and the air got a little colder as he tried to wedge his knife in between the boards. Realizing that wasn't going to work, Dean sighed and sat back on his knees. "We need to rip up these boards…" He mumbled though he knew Sam understood.
Sam nodded and looked around the hall for something that could assist them with the task. Something metal caught his eye from the bedroom and he turned, noticing a hammer propped against the dresser. He grabbed it, wincing a little as the added pressure caused his wounded wrist to burn, and walked back over to where Dean was kneeling. Without waiting for an invitation, he dropped to his knees and began ripping away the boards, tossing the splintered wood to one side. After a few minutes, a big enough hole had been made where he and Dean could reach beneath the board and pull upwards. The boards broke away easily after that, the wood rotten and soft.
Sam kept his mind on the task at hand and not the fact that he could feel blood was slowly seeping through his makeshift bandages, soaking the cloth to his skin. He hoped the jacket was enough to cover the growing stain on his sleeve.
Finally, after a few more minutes of ripping away boards, a black suitcase appeared resting on its side a few feet below the floor. The zippers were rusted, an obvious sign it had been here for a long time, and the smell emanating from the hole was vaguely decayed. The bag opened easily enough with the knife and the skeletal remains of Julia Murdoch were revealed.
With a soft sigh, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a Ziploc bag of rock salt. He sprinkled it inside the suitcase, covering Julia completely, and then around the suitcase for good measure. Sam tossed him a matchbook (he still wasn't sure why his thirteen year old brother carried matches around in his pocket; probably a habit developed by their profession) and he caught it, striking one so the flame glowed bright in the darkened house. "Sorry sweetheart." Dean muttered as he dropped the match into the suitcase. The blaze ignited almost instantly, engulfing the material and spreading through to the floorboards. "Come on Sammy, go time." Dean said, standing quickly and making a run for the stairs, Sam right behind him. The two ducked out of the house, disappearing into a back alley and walking away. Behind them, the house had completely caught fire, the flames rising higher and higher into the night sky. True, couple who had been living in the house would be pissed about their belongings being burned but it was the only way to ensure that Julia's spirit hadn't latched onto some other object in the house. Besides, that house was hers first and now maybe she could finally rest in peace.
Yay!! Okay, so arson may not have been the orginal plan but it works right?? Hope you enjoyed it!! :D
