March 12th - March 14th, 2008
I had been sick for a couple days, I figured it was just a cold, but it still sucked. I was always freezing unless I tried to warm up with a blanket or hoodie, and then I instantly got hot and sweaty. I just couldn't win. My throat was sore, my nose burned from blowing it so much, and I kept getting on and off headaches.
Sam and Dean kept telling me to get some rest at the motel, but since we were trying to find a way to save Dean, I obviously didn't want to stay behind.
Dean and I waited on a park bench for Sam. He was talking to a professor about demon deal lore. Dean didn't want to go in and decided that while we waited, he would get us hotdogs from a vendor down the street.
"Not hungry?" Dean asked, glancing down at the hotdog that just sat in my hands.
I shook my head.
"Still not feeling too hot, huh?" Dean asked as he took the hotdog out of my hands.
I coughed. "Nope."
Dean nodded. "Well, maybe you should—"
Ring! Ring! Ring!
He answered his phone, "Hey, Bobby. What's up?" (...) "Ohio?" (...) "Yeah, we can take care of it."
Sam exited the building and walked over to us.
"Yup. I got it." (...) "Okay, bye." Dean hung up as Sam approached. He stood up and tossed Sam a can of soda. "So?" he asked as he took a bite out of my hotdog.
Sam sighed. "So, the professor doesn't know crap."
"Shocking," Dean said sarcastically. "Pack your panties, Sammy, we're hitting the road."
"What? What's up?" Sam asked.
"That was Bobby. Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio, and he thinks there's a spirit involved," Dean said.
"So, you two were talking a case?" Sam asked.
"No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands." Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we were talking a case!"
"So, a spirit, what?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, this banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off."
Sam nodded. "Huh..."
"This is not ringing your bell?" Dean asked.
"Well, sure, yeah. But, Dean, we're already on a case," Sam said.
Dean furrowed his brow. "Whose?"
"Yours," Sam said.
Dean nodded. "Right. Yeah. Well, you could'a fooled me."
"What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?" Sam asked.
"Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer, and two-bit carny act in the lower forty-eight. Nobody knows, squat!" Dean yelled. "And we can't find Bela, we can't find the colt. So, until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job."
Sam put his hands out. "Well, there's one thing we haven't tried yet—"
Dean shook his head. "Sam, no."
"We should summon Ruby," Sam said.
Dean shook his head. "I'm not gonna have this fight with you."
"She said she knows how to save you," Sam said.
"Well, she can't," Dean said.
"Oh, really, you know that for sure?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "I do."
Sam shook his head. "How?"
"Because she told me, okay!" Dean shouted.
"What?" Sam asked.
"She told me. Flat out." Dean shook his head. "She can't save me, nobody can."
I furrowed my brow at him, now pissed off that he'd let Sam and I run on false hope for so long.
"And you just somehow neglected to mention this to us?" Sam asked.
I laughed and stood up. "Wait, so let me get this straight..." I sniffled. "This whole time, you knew there was nothing we could do, but you just let us think we could save you?" I coughed.
Dean sighed. "Maddison—"
I put my hand up. "Shut up. You don't get to do that." I sniffled. "You don't get to let us believe that somehow you will still be here in a couple months. When in reality, you know it's not true."
Dean shook his head. "Maddi—"
"No." I shoved past him, brushing my shoulder against him as I did. "Screw you."
"Excuse me?" Dean asked, his voice now sounding stern.
"You heard me!" I shouted as I continued walking.
"Where are you going?" Dean asked.
I turned and rolled my eyes. "We're going to Ohio, aren't we?! There's clearly no reason for us to stay here."
When we made it to the motel, we got some rest, and then Sam and Dean went to talk to the victim's widow.
I decided to stay behind since I was still not feeling great, and I would only be sitting in the Impala anyway.
While I waited, I switched to a cooking channel and drooled over the food. Plus, since our motel room had a small kitchenette in it, I wrote down a chocolate chip cookie recipe. I was also feeling a little bit guilty about what I had said to Dean, so I thought if I made him some food, it might make up for it a little bit.
After a while, my face started to get hot, and I ended up with a pretty bad headache, so I just drifted off to sleep.
"Linda's a babe. Or was," Dean's voice woke me up.
When I opened my eyes, someone had set a box of tissues and cold medicine on the coffee table in front of me, they had also covered me with a blanket.
I sat up slowly to see Sam and Dean researching. Dean was on his laptop, and Sam was flipping through some paperwork.
"Did you find her?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, Linda Bateman. She and Ben Waters were high school sweethearts."
"So, what happened?" Sam asked.
"Drunk driver hit them head-on. Ben walked away," Dean said.
"So, what then?" Sam asked, "Dead flame calls to chat?"
"You would think, but Linda was cremated. So, why's she still floating around?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "You got me."
"What about that, uh, caller ID?" Dean asked.
"Turns out, it's a phone number," Sam said.
Dean shook his head. "No phone number I've ever seen."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, 'cause it's about a century old, back from when phones had cranks."
"So why use that number to reach out and touch someone?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Got me there too, but we should put a trace on it."
"Well, how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over one-hundred-years-old?" Dean asked and then spun around when he heard me yawn. "Hey, kiddo." He walked over and put the back of his hand on my forehead. "How ya feeling?" He gestured to the medicine and tissues. "We picked up some stuff for you, the tissues are supposed to have lotion in them or something."
I smiled. "Thank you..." I sighed. "Uh, look... I'm sorry about—"
Dean shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I get it."
I furrowed my brow. "Uh, okay. Well..." I leaned over and grabbed my list off of the coffee table. "Could you pick a few things up for me, next time you go out?"
Dean took the list and looked over it. "What's this for?"
"Chocolate chip cookies." I smiled.
Dean smiled. "Oh yeah. We can definitely do that."
The next morning Sam went out and got the things on my list. Then he and Dean took off, dressed like FBI agents, to talk to people at a phone company in town.
So, I put on some music and got to work on my cookies. I pulled out some baking sheets from one of the cupboards and turned on the oven. As I went through my recipe, I followed it as carefully as possible until I got to the eggs. I opened the fridge but couldn't find them. All that was in there were some leftovers and beer.
I groaned. "Aw, come on, Sam." I looked through the fridge again, just for good measure, but still no eggs. "Really?" I flipped my recipe over to look at the list I had given him, and then I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Maddison. How could you forget to write something down that's literally right in front of you?" I sighed. "All right, well..." I shrugged. "It's just eggs, it can't hurt too much. I'll just add water or something."
I continued mixing my cookies, and when it was time, I rolled the dough into little balls, placed them on the pans, and put them in the oven.
About ten minutes later, the alarm went off, but when I opened the oven, the cookies were darker and flatter than I expected them to be. I sighed and pulled them out. I plopped them down on the stove and looked at the terrible cookies I had just made.
I couldn't even follow a simple cookie recipe; how did I ever think I could help Sam save Dean before it was too late? I rolled my eyes, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV.
About twenty minutes later, Sam and Dean walked in.
"Whoa, looks like a tornado ripped through here." Dean chuckled. "There's flour and sugar everywhere."
I jumped up. "Oh, yeah. I'm sorry." I ran over to the kitchen. "I was gonna clean, I just got annoyed." I grabbed a tray of flat, burnt cookies, and brought them to the garbage. "I wanted to make you nice cookies, and I couldn't even do that right." I started scraping at them, which made me feel worse because they were just crumbling apart. "See!"
"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. Hey, hey." Dean grabbed the pan from me, put it on the counter, and knelt in front of me. "What's wrong? They're just cookies, Maddi."
I shook my head, tears coming to my eyes. "That's not the point."
He put his hands on my shoulders. "What's going on?"
"I just—" I sighed. "It's stupid, just forget it."
"No." Dean shook his head. "What is it?"
I sighed. "I was a jerk to you, and you might not be here for much longer. I couldn't even make you friggin' cookies." My bottom lip quivered as I looked into his sympathetic eyes.
Dean kissed my cheek and pulled me into a hug. "Don't worry about that, you were upset." He stood up. "How do you even know they're bad." He grabbed a chunk of crumbly cookie. "Have you even tried them?"
I shook my head, ashamed.
He shoved the whole chunk in his mouth. "Mmm, yummy," he lied, caringly. "Not dry at all, just right," he said as dry bits of the cookie shot out of his mouth.
"Thanks," I said.
Dean put his hand on my shoulder and gently pushed past me. "If you'd just excuse me." He walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "I'm just thirsty. Been thirsty all day." He nodded at Sam. "Right, Sam? I've been telling you that all day."
Sam nodded and rolled his eyes at me with a smirk. "Oh, yeah. He hasn't shut up about it."
Dean picked up another cookie chunk and held it out to Sam. "Sammy, try a cookie."
Sam put up his hand and shook his head. "Uh..."
Dean cleared his throat, still holding out the cookie. "Try. It. Sam." He smiled.
Sam took the cookie reluctantly. "Looks good."
I put my hands up. "All right. All right. This is sweet and all, but you really don't have to."
Sam put the cookie in his mouth and chewed for a bit longer than it should take to eat a normal cookie and then swallowed. "Wow, really good." He cleared his throat. "You want to toss me a—" He cleared his throat again. "Beer, Dean?"
I sighed and shook my head. "Are you guys done faking now?"
Dean put his beer down and walked up to me. "Oh, you think that was fake?"
I nodded. "I know so." I crossed my arms.
Dean smirked. "Little Miss Serious today." He put his hand on my shoulder. "Can I at least get a smile out of you?"
I looked up for a moment and shook my head. "Nope."
"You sure?" Dean smiled. "'Cause you know what I'm gonna have to do if I don't."
I smirked and backed away slowly. "No, you know how much I hate that." I ducked behind Sam and held onto his jacket.
Dean crept around him, causing me to walk around to his front, where he grabbed hold of me.
"Sam! What the hell?! You traitor!" I yelled as Dean picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.
Sam laughed. "Hey!"
Dean threw me onto one of the beds and started relentlessly tickling me.
"Get off me!" I laughed as I tried to push him off, but then I started coughing uncontrollably.
Dean stopped immediately and pulled me up, smacking my back until I stopped coughing. "Jeez, if you wanted me to stop, you could've just asked."
I glared at him. "Ha. Ha. Very funny."
"Have you been taking the medicine we got you?" Sam asked.
I shook my head.
"Why not?" he asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know. I just haven't."
Sam sighed and walked over to the medicine. He poured some in the little cup and handed it to me. "Drink up."
I frowned and then slammed it down. "Gross."
Later that day, Sam and Dean left to talk to a few more people around town, so I cleaned up my mess and sat down to watch some more TV until the phone rang.
I stood up and walked over to the phone. I stared at it, completely confused as to who would be calling. If it were Sam or Dean, they would've called the phone they left me.
It stopped ringing, so I shrugged and turned back to the couch. I stopped in my tracks when it started ringing again. I furrowed my brow at it and figured maybe it was the motel manager for some reason, so I decided to answer it.
"Hello?" I asked but was only greeted by static. "Hello?"
"Maddison? Are you there?" an eerily familiar voice asked.
My body completely froze, and I hung up the phone. Tears came to my eyes, and I started pacing... this isn't real... this isn't happening... it couldn't be her. I must be going insane.
Ring! Ring!
I grabbed my head, shaking. "No. No. No."
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I stomped over to the phone, took a deep breath, and then answered the phone, "What do you want?!"
"Hey, hey. Baby, I understand why you're mad, but please listen to me," Renee pleaded.
"You're supposed to be dead. How are you calling me?" I asked.
There was crackling on the other end and a sigh. "That's not important right now, what's important is that I make it right with you."
"That's not going to happen." I slammed the phone down and turned to walk away.
Ring! Ring!
I picked it up again. "Stop calling!"
Luckily, she didn't call again after that, but I was freaking out internally. Did that really happen, or was I losing my mind?
Sam came back about a half-hour later and told me about a teenage girl named Lanie he had met.
"So, why do you think she knows about whatever is happening here?" I asked.
"Because when I left, she followed me out to the car." Sam shrugged. "I could tell she was hiding something, and it took a little bit to get it out of her. Eventually, she told me her mom had been contacting her."
I raised my eyebrows. "Her mom? Really?"
Sam nodded and then looked at me, concerned as I fidgeted with my fingers. "You all right?"
I nodded and stopped fidgeting. "Yeah, I'm fine. This whole thing is crazy, though. I mean, dead people calling?"
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
"Yeah, why do you keep asking that?" I snapped.
"I don't know, you seem kind of freaked out about something, and I never said her mother was dead," Sam said.
I nodded. "Okay, I'm allowed to be freaked out that dead people are calling... it's kind of freaky. Plus, I just assumed she was dead... 'cause dead people are calling! That's why we're here!"
Sam nodded. "All right... sorry."
Dean walked in a moment later, looking totally freaked out.
"Dean?" Sam asked.
He paced for a minute. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but hear me out."
"What?" I asked.
Dean sighed. "Um, I got a call... from Dad."
"Dad? You really think it was Dad?" Sam asked as he sat down at the table.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know, maybe."
"Well, what did he sound like?" Sam asked.
"Like Oprah!" Dean rolled his eyes. "Like Dad, he sounded like Dad, what do you think?"
Sam sighed and shook his head. "What did he say?"
"My name," Dean said.
"That's it?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "Call dropped out."
"Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?" Sam asked.
"I don't know, man." Dean shrugged. "Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?"
Sam sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"Okay, so what if..." Dean sighed. "What if it really is, Dad? What happens if he calls back?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"What do I say?" Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. "Hello."
I started laughing, and Sam looked at me, confused.
Dean furrowed his brow. "Hello?"
Sam shrugged.
"That's what you come back with. Hello?" Dean rolled his eyes.
"Uh..." Sam looked confused.
Dean grabbed his jacket and turned toward the door. "Hello!" He slammed the door behind him.
Sam looked after him, concerned but then shook his head.
"He's not wrong." I laughed. "You couldn't have done better than hello?"
Dean came back a little later. Sam was sitting next to me on the couch. He was researching while I was curled up in a ball under a blanket. I kept dozing in and out watching TV.
"Find anything?" Dean asked as he walked over to us.
"After three hours, I haven't found a reason why anything supernatural would be going on here." Sam sighed. "Maddi, what about you?" He grabbed my foot and tickled it.
I groaned, pulled my foot back, and kicked him in the leg. "Stop."
Sam laughed. "Ow."
"Don't mess with me," I mumbled.
Dean laughed and smacked Sam on the shoulder. "Well, you know Sammy, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce better results than that."
Sam pursed his lips and then smirked. "Hilarious."
"You're just looking in the wrong places, pal," Dean said.
"And what are the right places, Dean?" Sam asked.
Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out some papers. "Motel pamphlet rack." He tossed them down on the coffee table. "Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison."
Sam picked up the papers and flicked through them. "Yeah, right. So what?"
"Keep reading," Dean encouraged.
Sam scoffed but continued reading, then he raised his eyebrows.
"What?" I asked curiously.
Sam looked up at Dean. "You're kidding."
"What?" I asked again.
Sam laughed, and Dean smirked back.
I nudged Sam with my foot. "What?"
Sam tossed me a pamphlet. When I picked it up, I realized it was an advertisement for Thomas Edison's Spirit Phone at some museum in town.
I looked up at them. "Seriously? This can't be real."
Dean shrugged.
"Can it?" I asked, now unsure.
The boys took off, and I continued watching TV until I finally fell asleep. Only to be woken up by the phone ringing a little while later.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Seriously?!" I just laid there waiting for it to stop.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Shut up!" I yelled, and it miraculously stopped, so I closed my eyes.
Ring! Ring!
I groaned and stomped over to the phone. "What do you want?!" I yelled into it.
There was crackling on the other end, and then Renee's voice broke through. "Baby, please just hear me out."
I slammed the phone down and walked away.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I ran to the phone and picked it up. "You tried to kill me!"
Someone cleared their throat. "Miss? This is the manager. I have received a complaint of yelling coming from your room."
"Oh, uh... sorry," I said quickly. "It won't happen again."
He sighed. "Miss, are you in any danger?"
"No danger, everything's fine. Sorry." I put the phone back on the receiver.
Ring!
My hand was barely off of the phone, so I answered it, "Renee?"
"It's me," she said through crackling.
"If I hear you out, will you stop calling me?" I asked.
She sighed. "Once I feel like... I've made it right."
I shook my head. "I watched you die. How is this possible?"
"I—" It crackled. "I don't know."
"So, I don't get it. You go through all this trouble of getting rid of me as a baby. Meeting up with me again just to give me away to some demons, not caring whether I die or not. Why do you care now?" I asked.
She sighed. "I know, I know, baby, I'm—"
"Stop calling me that," I interrupted.
"Okay, no, you're right." She sighed. "I just want you to know how sorry I am. It took dying to make me realize, but I know what's important now. And this—" It crackled. "Is the only opportunity I have to make sure you know how much I love you."
"You don't love me. You're just messing with my head again," I said.
She sighed. "Look. I've gone to Hell and realized the mistakes I've made. You are my biggest one."
I scoffed. "Yeah, trust me. You made that perfectly clear."
"No, oh god, no. That's not what I meant, not you. What I did to you was the mistake." Renee sighed. "I know how to fix this, but you aren't going to like it."
"What?" I asked.
"I want you to join me," she said.
"What?!" I asked, now shocked.
"You can be with me. Your brothers have several easy passes in that trunk of theirs. It can be quick and painless, and then we will be together... forever," Renee said in an eerily calm voice.
"Are you actually asking me to kill myself?" I asked.
She sighed. "It's the only—"
"Go to Hell! Or actually, just stay there!" I yelled and slammed the phone down on the receiver.
What was happening? My deranged mother, or whatever she was, was calling from the dead just to convince me to kill myself? I must have been going crazy. It must have been the cold or something. Maybe I wasn't over what had happened with that man. I know Dean was hearing from Dad, but it was Dad. I hated my mother.
The thing that scared me was that the reason we were in this town was that a man committed suicide after getting strange calls from a dead person. What if that happened to me? I didn't want to die, but I didn't think that man did either.
Sam and Dean came back a little later, only for Sam to take off, saying that Lanie needed him.
As soon as he left, Dean grabbed his laptop and started working on it furiously. I sat next to him on the couch, trying to watch TV, but I kept glancing over at the phone, worrying she would start calling again.
Sam came back about an hour later.
"What's up?" Dean asked.
"That girl Lanie, her mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night," Sam said.
Dean nodded. "That sucks."
"Yeah, it does. What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"I think Dad's right. I think the demon is here. Check it out." Dean stood up, handed Sam some papers, and walked over to his bag.
"What is this?" Sam asked, flipping through the papers. "Weather reports?"
"Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks," Dean said.
"Uh..." Sam shook his head. "I don't remember any lightning storms."
"Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology as a kid either." Dean shrugged. "But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me... wearing some poor dude's meat."
"And it's following you because...?" Sam asked.
Dean shrugged. "I guess I'm big game, you know. My ass is too sweet to let outta sight."
Sam nodded. "Okay. Sure."
Dean snatched the papers away from Sam. "Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something."
Sam sighed. "Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do—"
"Then believe it!" Dean shouted. "If we get this sucker, it's Miller Time."
"Yeah, that's another thing. Dad rattles off an exorcism that can kill a demon? I mean, not just send it back to Hell, but kill it?" Sam asked.
Dean nodded. "I've checked it out. This is heavy-duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth-century."
Sam nodded cautiously. "Yeah, I've checked on it too, Dean. And so did Bobby."
"Okay, and?" Dean asked.
"Look. It definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon," Sam said.
Dean shrugged. "No evidence, it can't."
Sam sighed. "Come on man—"
"Hey, as far as I'm aware, the only one of us who has actually been to Hell is Dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work," Dean said.
Sam shrugged. "Maybe it does. I hope it does too, but we gotta be sure."
"Why aren't we sure?" Dean asked.
"'Cause I don't know what's going on around here, Dean!" Sam shouted. "I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits."
"Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash Sam, people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!" Dean shouted.
They stared at each other, angrily for a long moment. Sam sighed, and Dean dropped his head in frustration. I sat there awkwardly, twiddling my thumbs.
"Dad, tell you where to find the demon?" Sam asked.
"I'm waiting on the call!" Dean yelled.
Sam sighed. "I told Lanie I'd stop by."
"Oh, good, yeah. No, you go hang out with jailbait." Dean rolled his eyes. "Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile, I'll be here getting ready to, you know, save my life."
Sam turned and walked toward the door.
"You're unbelievable, you know that?! Dean shouted. "I mean for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now, Dad's about to give us the friggin' address, and you can't accept it? The man is dead, and you're still butting heads with the guy!"
Sam stopped and shook his head. "That is not what this is about."
"So, what is it?!" Dean shouted.
"The fact is we've got no hard proof here, Dean. After everything, you're still just going on blind faith!" Sam yelled.
"Yeah, well, maybe!" Dean yelled. "You know, maybe that's all I got, okay?"
They stared at each other again until Dean sighed and looked down.
"Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please," Sam said.
Dean stayed silent. Sam shook his head and walked out. Dean sighed and sat down at the table, shaking his head.
I got up and sat down in the chair across from him. "Uh, Dean..."
He sighed. "Yeah, kiddo?"
"I, uh..." I cleared my throat, nervous to start another argument, but he needed to know that it wasn't just Sam who was weary. "I don't think—"
Ring! Ring!
He snatched his phone and immediately answered, "Dad?" (...) He stood up. "Where's the demon?"
I jumped up and grabbed his arm. "Dean, I don't think you should go."
Dean pulled his phone down and looked at me with anger in his eyes. "What?"
"I'm sorry. It just seems too good to be true. Don't you think? I mean, after all this time? Trying to find something... anything to save you... and suddenly it's just that simple?" I sighed. "We both want to—"
He pulled his arm away. "I can't believe you two." He shook his head, put the phone up to his ear, and walked to the door. "Yeah. I'm here."
I chased after him. "Dean! Please wait for Sam to come back."
He glared down at me. "Maddison..."
"Please... please... don't leave me here by myself. There's something I haven't told you," I begged.
He tightened his jaw and shook his head. "Yeah, Dad. I'm on my way." He opened the door.
I grabbed his arm again, feeling tears sting my eyes. "Dean... Dean... please at least let me go with you."
Dean shrugged my hand off and slammed the door shut behind him.
I was terrified to stay at the motel by myself, and I didn't realize how much until reality smacked me in the face. I took a deep breath and slid down the door to sit on the ground. I sat there, practically shaking, tears escaping my eyes as I stared at the phone. Sure enough, a moment later, it started ringing.
I stood up and walked over to it. "Leave me alone!"
I slammed it down and picked up the cell phone the boys had left me and dialed Sam's number.
It rang for a second, and then he answered, "Maddison?"
"Sam! Dean, he, uh, he left. Please come back," I pleaded.
"Maddi, hey, it's all right. Just answer the phone," Sam said.
"What?" I asked, feeling my heart pound.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
"Answer the phone," he said eerily and then hung up.
"Sam?! Sam?! Damn it!" I yelled.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
The ringing was almost getting louder every time. I screamed and chucked the cellphone across the room. It shattered into pieces as it hit the wall.
I picked up the phone. "Stop calling!" Then I slammed it down on the receiver.
I walked over to the TV and turned it on.
Ring! Ring!
I turned the volume up as loud as I could, trying to drown out the phone. I just wanted to ignore it. Then the subtitles clicked on, and ANSWER THE PHONE kept flashing across the bottom of the screen.
Ring! Ring!
"What the hell?" I asked, starting to breathe heavily.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Then a phone started ringing on the TV too, and then an actress said, "Maybe I should answer the phone," and then slowly turned to face the camera as if she was staring at me.
I jumped up and clicked the TV off, and started pacing. The phone continued ringing, and I picked it up and slammed it back down on the receiver. Then the TV turned back on and started ringing at me, the actress still staring at me, almost following me with her gaze.
I unplugged the TV and the phone, only for both of them to turn back on and ring again, louder, and louder every time. I took a lamp off of the side table and smashed the base of it through the TV screen, and it stopped.
Ring!
I walked over to the phone and answered it, "Please... please, stop!"
"You're a disgusting waste of life. You killed that man, and you just get to walk around like nothing happened? I should've killed you when I had the chance! You deserve to be down here with me, not Dean! Just do it!" Renee screamed.
I slammed the phone and the receiver down on the ground, little pieces broke off of it. I started pacing, breathing heavily, with tears streaming down my face.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I picked up the phone and brought it into the bathroom, threw it into the tub, and turned on the water. Slowly the water enveloped it.
Ring! Ring!
It continued ringing, but it was at least muffled. I walked back out into the living room, slamming the bathroom door behind me. The TV turned back on and started ringing again, the phone in the bathroom grew louder as if it was screaming at me, and then the cellphone somehow joined in too.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I leaned against the wall, slid down, and sat on the ground. I clutched my ears and rocked back and forth as I cried.
It must've gone on for almost an hour when suddenly everything stopped. Dean walked in only a minute later.
He looked around the room, stunned, and then he ran over to me, pulling me into his arms. "I'm here. Everything's okay."
I pulled away and looked up at him. He had bruises and cuts all over his face. "It was Renee. She wouldn't stop calling."
He wiped the tears from my cheeks and pulled me back into him.
Dean was cleaning his cuts in the bathroom when Sam walked in, he was also covered in cuts and scrapes. He looked around the room but didn't ask any questions. He ruffled my hair when he walked by and then leaned against the bathroom door frame.
"I see they improved your face," Dean joked.
Sam chuckled. "Right back at ya."
Dean walked past Sam and joined me on the bed. Sam sat across from us on the other one.
"So, crocotta, huh?" Dean asked.
Sam nodded. "Yup."
Dean shrugged. "That would explain the flies."
"Yeah, it would." Sam nodded and then looked away for a second. "Hey, um... look. I'm sorry it wasn't Dad."
Dean shook his head. "Nah, I gave you a hell of a time on this one."
Sam waved his comment away. "Ah."
Dean shrugged. "You were right."
Sam shook his head. "Forget about it."
"I can't." Dean sighed. "I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean, I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. Ya know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just—" He shook his head.
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.
Sam nodded. "Yeah."
Dean started tearing up. "I'm scared. I'm really scared."
Sam and I started tearing up with him.
"We know." Sam nodded.
Dean shrugged. "I guess I was willing to believe anything. Ya know, the last act of a desperate man."
"There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean," Sam said.
Dean shook his head. "Hope doesn't get you jack squat. I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know." He shrugged. "I mean, the only person that can get me out of this thing is me."
"And me," Sam said.
I nodded. "And me."
Dean looked at both of us. "And me?"
Sam and I looked at each other and then back at Dean. "What?"
"Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you two come back with? And me?" Dean asked.
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Uh... do you want a poem?"
Dean shook his head. "Moment's gone."
Sam smiled slightly.
Dean pulled his hand out of mine and smacked my leg, standing up as he did. "Let's get moving, I want to get at least a state away before the manager sees this place."