Chapter 10

The Witch Dies at the End

A/N: But like...not really.

"Good, we're gonna need our suits."

Dean looked up from his ironing as Sam entered the kitchen. "Got something on Amara?"

"Might be a long-shot but it's better than nothing. Hey, Chelsea."

The witch appeared in the kitchen and put out a hand to steady herself as she stumbled a little. She narrowed her gaze at Sam through mostly wet curls and took her toothbrush out of her mouth, "One of these days I'll be naked when you do that."

He chuckled, "Sorry."

Dean grinned and shook his head, setting the iron aside as the witch spit into the kitchen sink, "Whatcha got?" he reached out for the tablet.

"Hope Springs, Idaho. A guy named Wes Cooper killed himself after killing a coworker. According to the reports, nobody knows why."

Chelsea stood right behind Dean and tried to get a good look at the tablet, "I'm lost. Are murder suicides her thing?"

"Sounds like maybe a possession?" Dean tried.

"I think he might have been soulless."

The witch was still confused, "She snatches souls?"

"Yeah."

"Well damn..."

Dean turned slightly as she moved from behind him and around into his view, "It ain't much, but given what we got, I'll take it." with a smile he thrust the white shirt he was ironing at his brother and left the kitchen.

Chelsea took a sniff, "Smell that?"

Sam sniffed too, then directly sniffed his shirt, "Dean!" he shouted, "Stop ironing my shirts with beer!"

"I appreciate the FBI taking an interest in this case. We don't usually see stuff like this around here."

"Hey, you mind if I leave Sheriff?"

The blonde officer smiled as attention was now on her. The Sheriff chuckled and turned back to Chelsea and the Winchesters, "Newlywed."

None of the three could really relate but they did their best to return some sort of nod or smile. "How about you show Agent Greer the M.E. files then you can go."

Her face broke into a smile as she stood, "Thank you, Sheriff." She walked back to what was obviously some sort of file room and Sam followed behind.

Once he was out of sight Dean asked, "What do you have on Mr. Cooper?"

"We talked to his friends and family. No one has any idea why he would do something like this." he sighed, "We have a witness who overheard him before he took his own life. He was saying things that sounded out of character."

Chelsea couldn't help her head-tilt, "How so?"

"Wes said his life was meaningless and nobody loved him. It was as if every negative thought he'd ever had came spilling out."

"Pretty average things to hear from someone with depression maybe." the witch tried, "Sometimes the culprit behind unfortunate events like these." she could feel Dean's gaze but held the Sheriff's attention instead.

The man shook his head, "Not to argue that he wasn't depressed, who's to say, but he and his wife were the definition of a loving couple. She loved him unconditionally until the day she died."

"And his behavior after her passing?"

"What one would expect. But he never spiraled out like this."

Dean and Chelsea looked at each other for a moment. Sam rejoined them and the officer, Deputy Harris, gave a wave and smile as she gathered her things and left. Dean rapped softly on the Sheriff's desk, "Thank you Sheriff, we'll help however we can."

Chelsea handed the man a card for their motel and the three left.

"Well?" Dean asked once they were outside the station.

"It's her."

"Evil fog?" Chelsea sat on one of the beds with her legs crossed, "Are you serious?"

"It's part of her, or is her, maybe just some kind of evil spillover. We saw it first hand when she was freed."

Chelsea perked an eyebrow and ate one of her fries, "You mean when you freed her."

Dean sighed heavily through his nose, "Yes."

"Look, I'm just making sure you know you did this."

"I do know."

She put both hands in the air and fell back onto the almost too firm mattress. She ate another fry and tried not to focus too hard on the weird stain on the ceiling."Technically it's Sam's fault."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Don't pout." she sat up and spoke around a mouthful of potato, "Fill me in. What does this menacing fog do?"

Sam threw the trash from his food away and cleared his throat, "If you breathe it in it takes over. Most people turn into these mindless killers, angry and unfazed by pain. For others they just die."

"Just like that?"

"It varies. It takes longer or shorter periods for it to take affect in some people. Some die right away, some take a few hours or days."

Chelsea looked into her now empty fry container, "Think it could kill me?"

The brothers looked at each other, "I don't know. Doesn't seem like much of anything can kill you." Dean answered.

She seemed to look a little sad at that but perked right away, "Well, how do we stop it?"

"We don't."

"Excuse me?"

"It's odd enough that it seems to come and go. I mean, it only affected one man."

The witch still wasn't satisfied, "So what? We sit around and wait for it to come back? Is she controlling it or is it just free roaming? Why did it only affect one man?"

"We don't know."

"I'm not feeling very confident here." she stood up and started pacing.

"Look. We can maybe just get the town evacuated or something, but we don't have enough. It'll just cause panic."

Sam was right but still. It seemed insane that they could do literally nothing. What were they even there for?

Dean decided to play big brother and dispel all the frustration, "Let's just get some sleep. We'll get on a plan first thing."

He looked to his brother who nodded and stood, heading to the pull-out couch. Chelsea sort of scoffed and plopped down, laying on her back, occupying the bed she had been sitting on before.

It was better than everyone talking in circles and with a sigh he shut out the lights.

"I'm sorry for waking you guys up."

"No, it's alright. What happened?"

The Sheriff looked exhausted and confused. He put both hands in his jacket pockets, "Harris didn't show up for work this morning. We called, tried her CB, nothing. So I swung by here and I found her husband, Art. He was on the kitchen floor and her shotgun was beside him. She shot her husband point-blank in the face and left the scene."

The trio was without words. It took them a second or two to recover and Sam asked, "Has she been off? Showing any strange behavior in the last couple of days?"

"No, nothing at all."

"When was the last time anyone had heard from her?"

"She called in for the last time yesterday. Said something about seeing some fog rolling in. Don't know why she cared about the damn weather..."

The trio eyed each other. There was the answer. Amara's fog came through here. "Please let your dispatcher know that she is to let us know if she gets anymore reports like that." Dean said.

The sheriff was confused, "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Dean answered, "Just to be safe."

"Do you know where she might have gone?" Sam asked.

"No clue." Realization crossed the sheriffs face like relief, "But we can track her squad car from the station."

Everyone just moved. The trio piled into the car and peeled off toward the station. Chelsea lent into the front from her usual seat in the back, "We can't do anything about that fog if it's coming."

"What do you mean if?"

"You know what I mean. We can worry about the deputy hurting someone else, sure, but what about the rest of the town? Do you seriously believe Amara was after one cop?"

Sam looked at her, somewhat realizing what she was trying to say, "One case got us here..."

"And that was enough."

Dean sighed as he pulled up to the station and turned off the car, "Smells like a trap."

"Is a trap." The witch corrected as she got out of the car. The Sheriff pulled up right behind them and everyone headed inside.

"So you think she controls the fog." Dean realized what more Chelsea was trying to say in the car. She'd even asked about it the night before in an attempt to understand it better.

He'd dropped his voice and more or less halted her in the station hallway while the others continued on. The witch was stunned and confused, "I do. What's with all the secrecy?"

Dean stepped back but kept his voice low, "I wondered if she was watching me."

"A seemingly straight forward answer, but not the whole thing."

"What are you saying?"

"You want to know if she's looking for you…seeking you out." she crossed her arms, "What about her, exactly, can you not kick?"

He couldn't decide if he could answer. And apparently the sad yet quizzical deer in headlights look annoyed the witch enough to make her drop the subject and walk away with a "Whatever."

Sam was awkwardly waiting for them at the opening to the squad room. Chelsea shrugged and the three approached the Sheriff who pushed back from the computer, "I can't make heads or tails of this. Harris is… was our computer person."

"Let me give it a shot." Sam suggested.

"Hey Sherif!" another cop called out as he and Sam switched places. "I just got a call from the Hendersons. They saw some fog rolling in by Jasper Hills."

The stunned vibe in the room didn't last long as Dean spoke up, "Did they say where it was headed?"

"West, towards town."

"Okay. Call them back, tell them to get inside shut their windows or doors and seal it up, and stay the hell away from that fog. Then get the word out to everybody in town that they need to do the same thing."

Dean pulled command in the room just like that. The officer jumped into calling and Chelsea just sort of, marveled at him a little.

"Hold on." Sherif grappled for clarification, not quite so enthralled, "What are you talking about?"

"My partners and I have seen this before, ok? Wes and Deputy Harris were affected by whatever is in this fog. I know it sounds crazy-"

"No." the sherif cut him off, "It sounds like we should call the CDC."

"No time for that." Chelsea interjected, "They can't do shit about it anyway." she said under her breath.

"I got Harris!" Sam called out.

The witch took in the map and moving blip on the screen, "Doesn't main street cross this building?" she asked.

"Yeah-"

She looked right at the older Winchester, "Then she's outside."

Dean put his hand up to stop the Sherif, "We will deal with Harris. Help get the word out."

When they exited to the street, Harris was just sitting in the car. Staring at the steering wheel. Chelsea halted the brothers, "Trap, remember?"

"We have to talk to her." Sam offered.

"If I have to stop her-"

"Don't hurt her."

"We don't know what she's going to do." the witch hissed.

The door to the idling squad car clicked open and Dean took a deep breath, "We're about to find out."

Deputy Harris looked…exhausted. Her eyes were dark and hallow and black veins stood raised all over her skin. It looked painful. She closed the door rubbed her forehead, gun in hand, "I tried to kill myself, but she wouldn't let me."

Harris finally looked up from the ground and took a deep breath, raising her voice a little, "She has a message for you, Dean Winchester."

Dean's face contorted in shock and disbelief, despite having come to a conclusion about the fog earlier, "Amara?" he asked, "Is she here?"

"No. But her words have been echoing in my head ever since I took a breath of that fog."

Did she tell you to kill your husband?"

"And I watched myself do it." tears streaked the Deputy's face.

Sam spoke up, "This is an infection. Put the gun down, we can help you."

"It's not an infection." she corrected, "She says it's a mirror. She's showing us all the truth."

Chelsea just watched her gun hand. Waiting for a moment to get it from her. But when Dean spoke in realization, "Darkness." It pulled her attention just long enough for the Deputy to raise her arm.

"The light was just a lie!"

The two following gunshots made the witch flinch as the Deputy slumped to the ground. She glanced behind her at the Sherif, gun still raised, and then bak to Dean rushing to her side. "It's all going away, forever." she overheard, "But not you, Dean."

A large hand grabbed her upper arm and when Chelsea gave Sam her attention he was looking off down the road. He called out to his brother next who without missing a beat started barking out orders. "Get all these people in the station."

She and Sam took off down the street. Stopping cars and gesturing people out of them, pointing them to the police station.

"I think I can hold it back." the woman spoke up as screams could be heard further down the street where the fast moving fog swallowed up cars and buildings.

Sam didn't stop helping a family with a toddler out of a truck. "Do it!"

It was coming like an avalanche, and despite the couple running towards her, Chelsea put her hands up. The fog enveloped the couple then seemed to be pressed in place by a wall. Her heart was pounding as she heard footsteps hustling away from her. She heard Dean ask his brother, "What is she doing?!"

"It's only slowing it down!" she shouted back at them. The brothers expressions changed and she looked forward. The fog had piled up and spilled over her "wall". She took a step back but it was already around her ankles, running up her legs.

"Oh my god."

Dean grabbed his brother, "We gotta go."

She held her breath but it didn't do any good. The couple from before came stumbling forward, practically collapsing at her feet. Tears burned her eyes and her heart pounded. This was real; it was affecting her.

"Dean, we can't leave her out there."

"We can't bring her around these people either." The clear doors to the station closed and shortly after Chelsea pressed her hands to it.

She only nodded at the brothers before putting her back to the door. A signal that she was fine with being left outside.

Sam looked down at the ring on his hand and clenched his fist, a moment later his back was to the wall. "What did you do?!"

Chelsea grabbed the front of his jacket and all he could really see where the black veins in her hands and arms, crawling up her neck and across her jaw.

"I didn't-"

"You did!" she cut him off before coughing violently. There was banging at the door. Several men covered in dark veins made threatening gestures and beat the glass.

"They're coming in." The witch stood her ground as the brothers joined the few people they could save deeper into the building. The glass shattered and with a shoving motion from the witch the men flew backwards.

The brothers didn't catch anything else as with a look she closed the solid doors they hadn't even realized they'd crossed. Dean grabbed his brother, "Do not call her again." He hissed as the sounds of a fight ensued outside.

"Phones are dead." The Sherif said, hanging up the handset he was holding.

The brothers didn't miss a beat, "Duct tape." Dean said, "We gotta seal this place up."

On the other side of the door, Chelsea was getting tired. More of the people from outside had poured in and she just couldn't keep up. She didn't have the energy to use her powers, and her attacks were getting weaker. They surged on the door she'd closed and she could see the blue spark of magic barring them fizzle out.

"Think it could kill me?"

"I don't know. It doesn't seem like much of anything can kill you."

She was on all fours at this point and the shouting around her dulled to a hum. Her hands, pressed flat to the ugly linoleum floor, came in and out of focus. Then...dark.

"Sam!"

The younger Winchester fell to the floor, coughing. He held up his hands as the veins spread and fog filled the room. Apparently duct tape wasn't enough. Dean ushered the people into a closed off office. and hurriedly tried to tape over the bottom of the door. The double doors continued to rattle and Sam, despite his own distractions, couldn't feel Chelsea anymore, the gold ring seemed to go cold on his finger. He slumped over further and Dean abandoned his task to be at his side.

"C'mon Sam." He didn't take too long to realize something…

"It doesn't affect you." Sam said aloud, noticing his brother's lack of symptoms.

"We can get out of here."

"No. You're the only one. Just go!"

The people in the office started screaming. The fog had seeped under the partially taped door.

"I'm not leaving you! Ever!" Dean was truly at a loss of what to do until he noticed something in Sam's pocket, a pure white light.

The younger brother stopped coughing and the fog started to dissipate. The glowing item was the amulet Sam had given Dean years ago; the one that glowed in God's presence...presumably.

The Winchesters then noticed the silence, just before Chelsea popped into the room. Her expression was a mix of confusion and a bit of fear. "What happened?"

Her voice shook just a bit. Dean stood, helping his brother up as he did and touched her arm, "What do you remember?"

"It was dark. I think I might have died for real..." she got distracted by the light in his hand, "What the hell is that?"

He didn't get to answer her as everyone came out of the office. They all seemed perfectly fine and as Dean moved for the door to outside Sam and Chelsea followed, still in a bit of a daze. They flanked him as they approached the street. Deputy Harris was standing, bullet holes gone, just as what appeared to be her husband came around the squad car and embraced her.

All over the street, people who were easily dead, stood and hugged each other. Not quite celebratory as everything was still so unclear.

As they moved down the street the light in Dean's hand got brighter. Until it was so much so Chelsea averted her eyes. The boys stopped, recognizing someone with their back turned.

The man faced them. Showing a really unassuming smile, curled hair, small stature. "Chuck?" the brother's asked.

He continued to smile softly, "We should probably talk."