Another chapter. YEAH.
As you can probably tell, the story's almost over. And I probably wont start another one.
A warning: I've realised I'm not to great at writing serious stuff that's interesting. So this chapter is kind of serious, but I've tried to keep it light. Hope it turned out okay and not awkward.
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural. Don't own any characters or anything really. It's FLAGRANT PLAGIARISM. Though not really, I've admitted it...
"I think you should leave."
Dean's jaw was hard. "Well I'm not leaving. I can't leave him here with you, Laura."
Laura's expression was startled for a moment. "You know my name?" she said in barely a whisper. Dean nodded and Laura grimaced.
"I'm Dean," Dean said simply. Laura glared at him, stood, and paced towards the bathroom door.
"Why are you here? This is private property. And I've given you warning."
Laura had a nervous look about her, and something in her eyes told Dean that her bravado was all for show. Her mouth was twisted into an un-natural smile that didn't belong there. Her eyes weren't smiling; instead they were blurry and dull.
"I know that you were going to kill Scott," Dean said, walking up behind her. "And I'm here to stop you."
"Who said I was going to kill him?"
"Just a feeling." Dean glanced through the doorway at the box of hoodoo, trying to think of a way to grab the pack of rock salt inconspicuously. Until then he'd have to stall Laura, or try to reason with her. Not for the first time, Dean wished Sam was with him. Sam was always better at communicating with the dead and deranged.
Laura narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. "Why, do I look like a murderer?"
There was a pause. "Should you?" Dean asked.
"I killed my husband," she said blandly. "But that wasn't murder, it was… I wasn't thinking right. And he deserved it, it did him some good."
"I'm sure it did. But killing Scott won't do anything."
Laura looked down at Scott's face. "I don't want to kill him," she said quietly, more to herself than Dean. "But I don't want him to leave either."
"Laura," Dean said, his practiced voice softening. "I think you'll just have to learn-"
"No," she said. Her head swung towards him, and in a second Dean was being dragged along the floor, into the bathroom, into the… shower, of all places. The glass shower door slammed shut.
"You'll stay here until I figure out what to do." There was a shrill noise and Laura looked down at her feet. "Hmm, looks like you dropped your cell."
Dean slammed his hands against the glass door.
"Let me out!" he yelled pointlessly. The cell stopped ringing.
"I killed my husband in a shower, you know," Laura said airily. "Made a hell of a mess, but I suppose I did go a little nuts. Good choice to do it on tiles – and I've never even been much of a forward planner." She turned towards the bedroom and looked at Scott.
"He doesn't deserve this, you know. He did nothing. He's not your scumbag husband."
Laura froze on the spot. Suddenly Dean felt something sharp at the back of his neck, and the pain travelled down his spine. He hunched into a ball, eyes closed and let out a yell. Once he opened his eyes and looked at Laura.
"Oh, haha," he said, dripping with ice-cold water. Laura smirked.
"Sorry," she said. "But you have to admit that was a little funny." Dean's cell chirped from the floor. "Well, you're popular."
Sam sucked in a breath and pulled out his cell phone. He dialled Dean on speed-dial (he might have noticed this was the first time he'd ever used speed-dial if he hadn't been in such a state of panic) and listened to the rings. They seemed slower than usual, and almost mockingly chirpy. Eventually the repetitive sound ended, and Sam heard the familiar gravely voice on Deans answering service.
Sam rang again, but he was just taken to the same recorded message.
"Dammit!" Sam snapped shut his cell and rushed towards the door. If he couldn't call Dean he'd go to him, warn him, save him, anything.
Dean shivered. The water from the shower had soaked into his clothes and had left him freezing in the darkened bathroom. Laura was sitting on the bed, watching Scott and had been doing so silently for almost fifteen minutes. Dean tried again to push the door open, but Laura had it forced closed.
"He's peaceful like this," Laura said from the bedroom. "Sleeping."
"He's not sleeping, he's unconscious," Dean reminded her.
"I had to knock him out," she said, walking towards the bathroom. "He was going to leave. And I don't think I could bare that… not again."
"How long have you been living here?" Dean asked. Laura glared. "I mean, how long have you been here? Ever since you…?"
"Yeah. Since eighty three… that's more than twenty years. I've seen this house through a lot."
Dean nodded slowly. The conversation had taken an awkward turn and it felt stiff, like the forced chitchat between co-workers in an elevator.
"When you talk to him he thinks he's dreaming. Does he even know your name? Why you're here?"
"Well, no. But that's not important," Laura said, leaning against the doorframe. "He loves me. I know he does."
"He loves Jaime. Or at least he did, before you killed her."
Laura's expression darkened. "He did not love her."
"They were going to get married," Dean said, almost enjoying the way Laura's expression changed. "They were going to move away and start a life together."
"And that's why she had to die. She was stopping us from being together."
"And Kirk?"
"Well I suppose that wasn't really necessary. But he was helping him move. Helping him leave."
Dean heard a noise coming from the bedroom. Scott had come round.
Sam found a cab almost the instant he left the hotel. After a few seconds of panic after he'd forgotten the address, Sam retrieved a printout from his jacket pocket and was on his way to Scott Kruger's house.
When the cab pulled up Sam threw a wad of cash at the driver and ran up to the house. The curtains were closed, the lights were off.
"Dean!" he called, pounding on the front door. There was no answer. He ran around to the back and tried to find an open window or an unlocked door, then cursed himself when he realised he hadn't brought anything to pick the lock with.
Sam stood frozen when he heard faint noises inside the house. Definitely voices, and something that sounded suspiciously like Dean's voice. Sam whipped out his cell and tried calling Dean again.
"Scott!" Laura breathed, her face softening as she knelt next to Scott. From the shower, Dean could only see Scott's foot. Scott groaned. "It's okay."
Scott let out a yelp of surprise and stood up, and Dean couldn't help sniggering to himself a little.
"Wha…" Scott said, opening and closing his mouth a few times.
"It's okay…" Laura repeated, smiling. Scott's tear-stained eyes narrowed and he took a step back from Laura.
"What are you doing here?" Scott shrieked. "Get out of my house!"
Laura looked genuinely hurt. "But you know me… I-"
"I don't know you. What… I… am I imagining this?" Scott said, more to himself. He walked past the bathroom and saw Dean trapped in the shower.
"Hey," Dean said simply, still shivering a little. Scott stared wide-eyed at Dean and turned away.
"Oh God," he muttered to himself. "I'm going insane."
"Probably."
"Scott, I'm really here," Laura said.
Dean leant against the glass door and was surprised when it swung open. Laura was distracted enough to forget to keep Dean trapped.
He crept out of the bathroom, picked up his cell phone, and slipped out the bedroom door as Laura and Scott bickered over Laura's presence in the room. He picked up the box of hoodoo charms and walked the house, leaving tiny puddles of water on the floorboards. He pulled out a bundle made of angelica root and some other ingredients and set himself on the task of finding the right walls. With any luck, placing the bundles would purify the house and free Laura's spirit.
So would burning down the place, part of Dean's mind interjected, and that would be much easier. And fun.
Dean's compass showed him to the northernmost wall, and he punched a tiny little hole – oops, not so tiny, Dean thought with a frown – into the plaster and tucked a bundle inside. He did the same with the eastern and southern walls.
Dear God, something in Dean's brain said without his consent, if you forget the murderous spirit angle then this is just like decorating with potpourri.
Dean's cell rang and broke the silence. He answered it, effectively ending the noise, and looked around to make sure Laura or Scott hadn't heard. It was Sam.
"Dean?"
"What, Sam? I'm kinda busy!" Dean hissed into the phone.
"I'm outside the Kruger house now. Dean you have to get out. The hoodoo isn't going to work."
"What are you talking about? 'Course it's gonna work."
"There was a fire," Sam said, sounding more and more panicked by the second. "Years ago-"
"I know, but that was a different house."
"But this house suffered smoke damage. They had to tear all but the front wall down and rebuild it. She can't be bound to this house, because it was destroyed. Trying to purify it's just going to piss her off. She's gotta be bound to something else."
"Shit. Then what do I do?"
There we go. Excitement! (And in case you're thinking the hoodoo thing was MAJORLY retarded then realise it's from the episode Home.)
Thanks for reading! Please take the time to reveiw and feed my addiction.
Stay tuned for next chapter. Hopefully soonish but I never keep my promises ;-)