Yeah, this really is the next chapter...the shock is probably killing you now. All I can say is that I'm SO, SO, SO SORRY! Really...this has been a way longer wait than I ever intended. There's been a lot of family drama lately – work drama, school drama, and just all around chaos. I've barely had time to keep up with the stories I'm reading and reviewing, that's really what I've been focusing on. I'm so sorry again! The circumstances were seriously beyond my control.
Since I last updated, tons has happened on Supernatural-but I won't make references now, as it would put the time frame all out of order. So there's no spoilers, besides the first couple of episodes. Is anyone still reading this anyway? Oh, and guess what: I'm writing on my new laptop! Yay!
NOW
As Allison waited by the stiffening body of Sam Winchester, she took time to appreciate the extreme luck fortune had brought upon her. The man had walked up to her, walked right into the trap in the middle of the night. It almost seemed intentional, as if he knew what lie ahead. But that was impossible, she reasoned. Nobody knew of her actions, and if they did it was unlikely that they would purposely put themselves in such danger. He had just been taking a walk after his spat with his brother – they were just two siblings unappreciative of the other, no different than any of the others whose lives she had taken with pleasure. She would have been forced to stalk them out at their place of residence had the young one not strode so easily into her midst. If truth be told, she most likely would have targeted the oldest brother, Dean. They were both guilty of the depreciative behavior, but she had a sour spot in her heart for older siblings that wasn't easily forgotten. But her time was limited. The youngest would do fine...not like she could go back on the action anyway. It was already done.
BEFORE
"So David's dead." Dean scowled in frustration, laying his head in his rough hands.
"Yep, looks that way," said Sam, pulling off his police cap. "Cremated and everything."
Dean raised his head to look at Sam, genuine confusion in his eyes. "So how are we going to find out what happened, dude? The address of the girl was blocked, the entire family's dead, the locals know nothing besides what's in the article about the Halls, and the internet just turns up a big pile of crap. No family history or anything. Oh yeah, and we found out that Allison was cremated too...kinda puts a damper on our whole "vindictive ghost" theory."
Sam was silent, contemplating what they should do next. It seemed like they had hit a dead end, but they couldn't give up. If the pattern was to stay the same, one more life was still to be taken this year – and they had to stop that from happening.
"I don't know, Dean, I really don't. We could try to find their house, the article said it was on the outskirts of town, close to the creek. We could start there."
"And what, just wander aimlessly around in police uniforms knocking on people's doors, and saying 'excuse me, did a convicted murderer used to live in your house?'"
"Uh...not exactly like that, Dean. We should probably ditch the uniforms, for one."
"Why, dude? I'm kinda liking the power." Dean proceeded to imitate a showdown, whipping out the gun on his belt from his holster and pointing it to an invisible criminal, beyond the windshield. He smiled as he tucked it back under his uniform. "See? Makes me unstoppable."
"Yeah, okay," said Sam, laughing, "but in case you haven't noticed, our disguise hasn't held up that well. First the names, then the fact that the librarian knows we're brothers working on the same case, researching at the local library instead of at the precinct, the prison guards in there were suspicious that we didn't already know if David was dead, not to mention why we were there – not too smart, by the way – and all the locals think we're insane, thanks to your not-so-inconspicuous questions. The uniforms have got to go."
"Jeez, man. Relax," said Dean. "Didn't know you thought I was that dumb." Dean raised his eyebrows for emphasis as he glared over at time, facing forward again as he started the ignition.
"I don't think you're dumb, Dean! I was just pointing out that-"
"-I get it, Sam, okay? Don't get your panties in a bunch."
"But-"
"-it's FINE, Sam, okay? You're right. We'll ditch the uniforms."
"So we're okay?" Sam looked at Dean, his eyes pleading.
The older hunter stared right back, his gaze clearly telling Sam to drop it. The subject was closed.
Sam raised his hands in the air. "Okay, man. Sorry."
Dean's response was to turn the radio up louder, drowning both of their thoughts. The Impala drove out of the prison parking lot, heading somewhere that only the young driver knew.
SPNSPNSPNSPN
An hour drive found both brothers on a dirt road, past the cluster of buildings in the center of town and heading through clumps of tall pine trees.
Sam looked with confusion out of the passenger-side window, glancing back at Dean and silently asking for an explanation.
When none was given, he vocalized his thoughts. "Where the hell are we going, Dean?"
"What, don't you know?" answered Dean harshly. "It was your idea, after all."
"We're looking for the house? But we don't know which one-"
"-then we'll ask," said Dean quickly. "This was your brilliant plan, college-boy, you can do the talking."
"Why are you being so pissy? I told you I was sorry, bro."
"Now I'm pissy, Sammy? You're the one who insulted my intelligence. Just because I didn't go to college doesn't mean I'm an idiot, man."
"Is that what this is about, dude? Stanford?"
"I don't know, Sammy. Okay? I don't know. All I know is that I get tired of you acting like you're on some pedestal, just because you went out to get educated while I stayed home fighting evil with dad. It's not like I couldn't have done the whole college thing, Sammy. I just chose to stay, okay?"
"I know, Dean, I never said-"
"Yeah, Sam, but it was enough."
Behind a tree, in a transparent nightgown, stood the ghost of a young woman taken before it was her time to leave. She listened to the argument of the two brothers, trying not to smile as she recognized the perfection of the situation that had just fallen upon her. She now had a new target – either would do, although the oldest seemed to be a bit more on the unappreciative end. She would take one man, making it her last kill of the year. Ever since she had discovered her capability to reappear and seek vengeance – years after her death – she had extinguished the lives of four siblings before the turn of each year. It seemed to be her limit until she lost power until the next cycle. Her time was running out now, but it seemed she would make her quota. In an instant, her form vanished.
The conversation of the two brothers continued, both oblivious to their previous ghostly witness.
"Dean, I'm sorry again, okay? For everything. For leaving you and dad, for giving up the hunt. I just wanted to be normal, you know? At least make the attempt to do something, for once, just for me. I guess I was selfish, I don't know. I just thought...I just thought that if I left, I could run away from it all, you know? From all the crap in our lives, from all the pain and death and moving around from crappy motel to crappy motel. I never even thought I could get in to Stanford, I applied just to see, just to see if I even had a chance. But when I was accepted, and I got that full ride, I just saw this vision of the life I could have. And I wanted it, Dean. I really wanted it. The white picket fence, the 2.5 children, the whole nine yards. I didn't leave just to abandon you, just to spite you. I just never had that blind faith in dad like you did, never felt as driven to avenge mom's death. And I know why, now. It's because I don't even have one memory of her, Dean. Not one. It almost didn't seem real, the story we heard about her on the ceiling. I mean, I believed it – I did – but I never saw it, man. Dad seemed to relate to you more since you were there, dude. I used to be jealous of you, you know? You remembered mom, you remembered dad when he was still happy, and you were always his favorite. The perfect son. I just wanted him to support me like he supported you."
Sam took a deep breath, tears welling in his eyes from the uprooting of such buried emotion. "You know, I actually thought he might be happy for me? How dumb was that?"
Dean bent in close to Sam, his face inches from his brother. "Listen here, Sammy, okay? Dad was proud as hell for you. We both were. He didn't want you to be alone, though, man. Didn't want you off by yourself in college. He knew that demon was still out there."
"I know, Dean. I know NOW. He told me when we found him again. But that's just the point! He didn't tell me THEN! I spent those two years trying to be normal, but always thinking he hated me for it – that you both hated me. Then I finally found Jessica, and I thought that was it. She made me forget about all the crap in my life, actually made me happy." He gave a cynical laugh.
"And look how that turned out. It was my fault. She died because of me, mom died because of me, hell DAD died because of me, because I was why the demon came to us in the first place. He tried to kill me when I was a baby. ME. Pastor Jim. Caleb. It's all my fault."
Dean sighed. How many times did he have to tell Sam this? "NOTHING is your fault, Sammy. You didn't ask for any of that to happen, okay? Do you hear me?"
Sam nodded. "But-"
"-but nothing, little brother. I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you take the responsibility for everything on your shoulders, it's insane."
"You're still angry though, Dean."
Dean pulled at his hair. The kid was damned persistent. "It...I'm an idiot, Sam, okay? I was just a little stressed. Okay? And you were a little-"
"-I know. Sorry." Sam gave a small smile. "So, we're really okay now?"
"Yeah, we're okay. Let's stop the major chick-flick moment and go kick some ghost ass, if the cremated bitch still exists."
"Sounds good to me."
SPNSPNSPNSPN
The houses in this part of town were dilapidated. Wooden planks leaning clumsily against one another, seemingly held up by sheer will. Shingles hung loosely from the roofs. Small, dirty children poked their heads out of windows with interest at the passing vehicle, and mutts tied to pickets in the front yard barked without cessation at the rumbling of the car.
"Nice neighborhood," remarked Dean. It was meant to be a joke to lighten the situation, but came off as more of a sad comment.
Sam shook his head slowly in agreement, still entranced by his surroundings. "Jeez, Dean. This is awful. And so close to the town? Why hasn't anyone done anything about it?"
"Because people suck, that's why," answered Dean quickly. "They know what it's like here, but they just tuck it away in their head. If they can't see it, they don't think about it."
Sam said nothing, as no comment would justify Dean's observation. He peered at each house as it passed him by, mentally deciding whether or not it was a possibility. Most of the houses could be checked off – all the first houses were too close to the dried up river, and the last ones were too far away to be viable options. That left three shacks in the middle.
One held an older couple apparently in their eighties; they had walked out of their house holding hands just as the Impala had passed. It was a sight that warmed the hearts of both boys – that two people in such poverty after so many years could stay in love was a nice thought.
The second house seemed to new to be a possibility – it wasn't in good condition, by any means, but it seemed by the design to have been built within the last ten years.
That left one more house: a condemned, flimsy shack. The shutters had been removed, the windows had been taped shut, and rot had taken hold of the wood that was the base of the building's construction. Sam and Dean quickly exited the car, walking up to a small, red sign that was picketed in the front lawn.
It warned:
DO NOT ENTER
THIS HOUSE HAS BEEN CONDEMNED. THERE IS SEVERE DANGER IN THE INTERIOR, TOXIC FUMES HAVE BEEN RELEASED WITH AGE AND THERE IS AN UNSTABLE FOUNDATION LIKELY TO COLLAPSE UPON ENTERING.
FORMANCONSTRUCTION WILL NOT BE HELD LIABLE FOR ANY INJURIES PERTAINING TO THE TRESPASSING OF THIS PROPERTY.
"Going inside is out, then," said Sam.
"What? Dude, we'll be fine."
Sam sent Dean a glare. "What part of that makes you think we'll be fine: the toxic fumes or the unstable foundation? We'd fall through the floor and into the basement, man. Come on."
Dean shuffled his feet. "Fine, college boy. Guess your intelligence wins out again." This time, though, the comment was said with a laugh.
"Damn right, Dean."
As both boys headed back to the car, their spirits dropped. That was their last hope.
Until Sam had a moment of revelation.
"What about the creek, Dean?" he asked with excitement.
"What?"
"The creek. It is where Allison was drowned, maybe her spirit is still there."
"But she was cremated, dude. And the creek is dried up."
"I know...but...maybe something from her body is there that keeps her spirit alive. Remember how that one girl from the painting lived through the hair in her doll?"
"No Sam, I forgot," said Dean sarcastically. "It's not like that was the most traumatic experience of my life or anything."
"The point IS," continued Sam, "that creek bed could be the root of everything."
"Okay, man. Let's go."
SPNSPNSPNSPN
It turned out that a dried up creek bed wasn't that interesting of a place. The sides of what used to be the barriers of the small body of water still rose up to produce a long, narrow ditch, but all signs of life – or moisture – were gone from the area.
"I don't see anything," said Dean.
"We have to keep looking, Dean," said Sam, inspecting the ground closely.
"I know, Sammy, but maybe we're off-track with this one. The place is a wasteland."
Sam stood up slowly, looking off into the distance as if he had just realized something important.
"What?"
But Sam continued to gaze.
"What, dude?"
Sam finally turned back around to face his brother. "If she shed blood when she was murdered into the soil, it would have been absorbed. Which means it's still here somewhere, keeping her spirit alive."
"Jesus effing Christ!" yelled Dean. "You mean we can't do anything about it?"
"I don't...I don't think so."
Dean spun on his heels, pacing in circles. "That's just great. What do we do now?"
"I guess we just go back to the motel. See what we can dig up."
"On what?"
"I don't know, Dean. Anything."
"Fine, man, but you're college brain better pull through."
Sam gave a small smile. He hoped it would, too.
As both brothers strode back to the Impala, Sam thought he caught something in the distance. Something white and transparent. And it was setting its sights on Dean.
"Dean! Look!" Sam pointed in the direction of the ghost, frantic for Dean to see her. But she disappeared.
"What am I looking at, Sam?"
"Allison! It was her, Dean, she was looking right at you. She was right there, I swear!"
"Okay, let's think about this. You sure you saw her?"
"Yes!"
Dean looked up at the sky, taking a second to reflect. "Let's just drive back to the motel, okay? We'll think about it then."
"But-"
"-Sam, what are we going to do here, anyway?" She's gone."
Sam sighed. "You're right."
"Of course I am," answered Dean, winking.
As the car drove away, Sam saw her again. And again. Through the trees, behind a building. Next to a lamppost. She was following them, and Dean kept missing it.
Kept missing her swirling nightgown, kept missing her sad smile.
And the wink she gave Sam before disappearing a last time.
She was after them.
They were to be her next victims.
Sam sprinted from the car upon arriving at the motel, slamming his door and approaching Dean.
"We have to get out of here."
"What? No way, dude. We need to stay, we can't just leave a case."
"But she's after us, man! She is!"
"Okay, Sammy. Fine. Having ghosts after us is part of the job. I want to see this bitch for myself, anyway. Get rid of her some way or the other."
Sam sighed. He just had a bad feeling about this one, but he knew Dean would stay.
And he knew Allison had taken interest in Dean, in particular.
Which left only one option.
He waited for Dean to fall asleep, and wrote a note. And then he left.
NOW
Allison felt a surge of excitement as she saw Dean appear through the trees. The flashlight shook in his hands...the man was nervous. She briefly wondered why – the two men didn't seem to care about each other. He probably was just scared of the dark, she reasoned. She laughed slightly to herself...this had been an easy job.
TBC
Okay, I think the next chapter will be the last. Please review!