A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this chapter...it gave me a lot of trouble. My laptop spazzed and I ended up losing half of it after I had already wrote it but it's finally up and edited. Woo hoo! Enjoy my lovelies =)
Dean took a deep breath, holding in the air in anticipation as he twisted the knob and kicked the door open in one swift motion. Without an ounce of hesitation he fired a round of rock salt at the spirit stalking by the sink with a hairdryer in her hand. Dean was knocked backwards, the butt of the gun knocking all the wind out of him as he fell flat on his ass. The dryer hit the tiled floor with a loud thud, pulling the cord out of the electrical socket and skidding to a halt at Dean's feet. The emerald of his eyes had turned to thin rings, barely visible when he peered at Sam from beneath thick lashes, pupils blown from the adrenaline. Silence blanketed the room and all was still for a moment.
"Are you taking a bubble bath?" Dean finally asked, breaking the silence, every ounce of seriousness washing off of his expression. His face lit up in a teasing grin when he stood. Pink tinted Sam's cheeks from his embarrassment and he quickly pulled the plug as he got up to wrap a towel around his waist.
"So…this place is actually clean. I'm not worried about catching a venereal disease in here," Sam barked defensively, knocking his brother off balance when he traipsed past him.
"Was she seriously trying to fry you in the tub?" asked Dean, sitting the gun back on the edge of the coffee table.
"That's where it was headed I think," sighed Sam while he rummaged through in search of some boxers. "We need to solve this shit…fast."
"No shit! The kickback on that gun friggin' hurts," whined Dean, rubbing at the sore spot. Sam stopped what he was doing for a second, his hazel eyes busy with thought before they locked onto his brother's green gaze.
"Thanks man. Even at your size you're still looking out for me," he said quietly, lips hinting at a smile. "You always have." Dean held his child-sized hand up in a hushing gesture.
"No chick-flick moments…remember?" he giggled before walking by and jabbing Sam in the ribs playfully.
"But I want pie!" screamed Dean, his face turning a deep scarlet as he clenched his fists.
"No, we don't have time to stop…we've gotta wrap up this case," explained Sam as calmly as he could, niceties sounding forced due to his rapidly decreasing patience. "He believed us when we told him…now we just have to meet him at the apartment so he can see for himself. Once he sees her, figures out what she wants and then agrees to let her go then I promise I'll get you all the pie you want on our way to Bobby's." Dean's face went from scarlet to purple as the rage boiled up inside of him.
"I want pie now!" he shrieked, the tears flowing freely.
"I said no. Now get that through your thick skull Dean," Sam barked. Dean freaked. He was kicking the dashboard, throwing whatever he could get his hands on, screaming and thrashing. "Don't make me pull this car over!" shouted Sam, nostrils flaring.
"Shut the fuck up! You're not Dad and I'm tired of you telling me what I can and can't do all the time!" he screamed. "I'm not a child!" Sam reached over and cuffed him in the back of the head with an audible slap.
"Just stop already! You don't think straight anymore, that's why I tell you what to do. Just freakin' get used to it already…I'm sick of this!" he growled. Dean saw red and lunged, getting caught by the seatbelt before his fist could make contact with his brother's face. Sam grabbed him by the wrist, "This is bullshit Dean! If you're still grown in that grapefruit of yours then start acting like it or I won't bring you on any hunts until you're fixed."
"But…" Dean began to argue. Sam put a hand up and cut him off.
"That's final," he said sternly, no room for argument. Dean knew that Sam meant what he'd said but he just couldn't fight the urge to flip him the bird and stick his tongue out.
"I just wanted pie," he sulked to himself, little pink lips turned up in a pout and his arms crossing. "I never get pie." Sam just shook his head and sighed. He was trying his damndest to be patient with Dean but sometimes his brother was just impossible. He was genuinely sorry for every fit he ever threw as a child while in Dean's care and he wished he could take them all back. This was definitely some form of payback, ten-fold for being a bratty little brother both as a kid and even now sometimes.
"It's gonna be fine, I promise," Sam reassured Mr. Moyer, puppy eyes in full force for reassurance. "It was definitely her that we saw. We think that maybe she's just trying to tell someone that she's ready to move on…that she doesn't want to live like this anymore. Moving out must have triggered the attacks…maybe because she was no longer with you. That's my best guess." He quickly patted the man on the shoulder. "You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be…I guess," he sighed. "I just don't understand… she's such a sweet, loving woman and always has been. It's why I fell in love with her. Why would her spirit hurt those people?" He was pale, his eyes dull and he looked utterly broken.
"Sometimes when a person's spirit is stuck here for a while it drives them crazy and they'll do whatever it takes to get their message across," answered Dean, bright emerald eyes sparkling up at the man…empathetic. Sam opened the door and they all filed in, walking around the apartment slowly, cautiously. They were all a bit on edge, not knowing what to expect from the spirit and Dean had his sawed-off in hand.
"You could try talking to her," suggested Sam. "Maybe say your goodbyes." The man nodded.
"Anne…it's me, Frank," he began, unsure of himself. "Honey?" his voice was barely a whisper.
"Dean, put the gun down," ordered Sam, still looking around carefully. He did as he was told, propping the gun up against a wall in the hallway hesitantly.
"Anne?" asked the man in disbelief. The brother's both turned towards him sharply, almost gasping when they spotted the spirit about a foot in front of him. She didn't move or make a sound, just stood in front of her husband and smiled, tears streaking her face. He reached a hand out for comfort, forgetting his fear completely when he caught sight of her and she laced her fingers between his delicately. Sam and Dean just watched as the man's eyes welled up with tears. He brought her hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "Are they right? Do you want me to let you go?" he finally asked between choked breaths. She ran cool fingers along his face, wiping at his tears, the smile never leaving her lips. "I love you," he whispered, shutting his eyes and leaning into her touch. When he opened them she was gone.
"Well, that went pretty well," smiled Sam as he threw their duffels in the back. "He got to see his wife one last time and say goodbye…plus we wrapped up the murders."
"I guess," sighed Dean, climbing into the passenger seat. Sam's smile fell when he heard the tone of his brother's voice.
"We'll stop and get you some pie when we fill up," chimed Sam, attempting to sound as upbeat as possible. "That way you have some for the road."
"Okay," Dean stated flatly, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Sam was climbing in, about to start the car when his brother's cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Where are you? We need to talk," a gravelly voice buzzed from the other line.