"Dean, just let her go." While Dean had quickly given up on trying to dump her in a motel room back in town, he and Skye had still spent the entire drive back to the bridge arguing about whether or not she'd stay in the car. Sam's money was on no.
"I'm sorry? Let me? How exactly is he gonna stop me?"
"I have handcuffs and a very large trunk."
Sitting sideways in his seat, Sam watched the color drain from her face at the threat. Looked like that had struck a nerve. When she spoke, the venom in her voice promised grievous bodily injury to anyone who dared try it. "You think I'm unpleasant now, just see how much worse I get when I'm really pissed off."
"Because it's possible for you to get worse."
"I swear to God, Winchester-"
"Look, Skye's not convinced all this is real, right? I say let her come along and see for herself." Interrupting before they could start up again, Sam got their attention, or at least enough of it to make an argument in Skye's favor and short-circuit the whole 'it's dangerous' stance of Dean's. Life was dangerous, and Sam had a fairly good idea Skye had already figured that out all on her own, "This ghost only goes after men, it should be safe enough for a first gig."
"...fine, but if she gets hurt, I ain't cleanin' it up."
"So this is where Constance took the swan dive." Dean didn't think it was much to look at, that was for sure. The old metal bridge hung stolidly over the river, the sound of the water rushing below adding a soothing background. Or it would have been soothing if the whole place wasn't creepy as fuck. Between the cracked asphalt, the last few flutters of yellow crime scene tape, and the dim lights hung high on the struts overhead that were losing the battle to the darkness around them, it was a great location for something to pop out and yell 'boo'. Reaching out, Dean snagged the back of Skye's jacket as she leaned a little too far over the rail for his peace of mind. "Watch it, Tinkerbell, we don't need two ghosts around here makin' trouble."
"Look on the bright side, if I fall and die, you won't be stuck with me anymore."
That mental image wasn't nearly as appealing as she'd like to think, or he'd like to pretend, making him vaguely nauseous. Maybe he should lay off the burgers for a few days? Nah, that couldn't be it. "Then by all means. Maybe you can do a flip on the way down."
Raising a brow, Sam shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning against the rail next to Skye. "So you think Dad would have been here?"
Leaning a hip against the cold metal rail, Dean crossed his arms, peering briefly over the edge to the long drop below before turning to answer the question. Chewing his lip for a second, he shrugged, "Well, he's chasin' the same story and we're chasin' him, so...yeah, probably."
Dean firmly believed they'd find their father and hopefully sooner rather than later. They had to. Dean had exhausted all of his contacts within the first two days of meeting Skyler, hoping someone knew how to break this shit between them, and John Winchester was their last hope. Dean was not looking forward to the dressing down he was likely to get, though. Dad was guaranteed to rip him a new one for getting into this mess in the first place.
Running a hand through his hair, Sam pushed away from the rail, looking almost as tired as Dean felt. Falling into step beside his older brother, Skye trailing beside them, they headed slowly back toward the car, "So what now?"
What did he mean, what now? Wasn't that obvious? What, did Sam think that Dean was just going to give up and throw in the towel, just hope he eventually stumbled over something? "Now we keep digging until we find Dad. It might take awhile."
"Dean, I told you, I've got to get back by-"
"Monday. Right. The interview." Shit. With everything else, Dean had forgotten about that. Probably because he didn't want to think about it and other things just seemed more pressing. But come on, was Sam really going to go back and just leave him hanging when Dad was still missing? Maybe dead? And he was stuck with this little slip of a girl making his life miserable? "You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just gonna become some lawyer, marry your girl?"
"Yeah, maybe." Sam sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, looking at Dean like he just couldn't understand what the problem was, "Why not?"
That was just about the stupidest question Dean had ever heard. Why not? Seriously? There were twenty-two years of reasons why not, some of which Sam had already listed back in the stairwell of his apartment building. "Does Jessica know the truth about you? Does she know about the things you've done?"
"No, and she's not ever going to know."
"Well that's healthy." Raising a brow as Sam took a step toward him in what could be construed as a threatening manner, Dean just shook his head, not the least bit intimidated by Sam's posturing. Like he hadn't been whooping his little brother's ass for the last two decades and would probably do it a time or two more before all was said and done. "You can pretend all you want Sammy, but sooner or later you're gonna have to face up to who you really are."
"Who I really am? And you really want to talk about pretending right now?" Taking a step closer to Dean, Sam lowered his voice, his eyes cutting to where Skye was leaning back against the rail, leaving no doubt as to exactly what he was talking about. "You can deny shit all you want but you're not exactly the picture of emotional health and stability here."
"That's not- Don't go there, Sam, you don't know what you're talkin' about." For fucks sake, Dean barely knew what was going on in his own damn head regarding the girl so there was no way in hell Sam did and if Sam didn't leave it the fuck alone... "You're one of us, Sammy, whether you like it or not."
"No Dean, I'm not like you, this is not going to be my life."
Did Sam really think he was all that different just because he had ambitions, things he wanted to do with his life? Like Dean didn't? But other things were more important. Like saving lives. ...like family. "You can't walk away from this, Sammy. You have a responsibility."
"To Dad and his crusade? If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. Mom's gone, Dean, and she isn't coming back."
The words had barely left Sam's mouth before Dean found his fist tangled in Sam's jacket, Sam's back up against one of the rusted metal struts. It likely would have gone further than that, very possibly devolving into an actual fight, if Dean hadn't caught sight of Skye out of her corner of his eye. Judging from the pallor of her skin and the way she'd jumped about six inches, he'd just scared the absolute crap out of her. Wonderful. Releasing his hold on Sam, Dean consciously lowered his voice and softened his tone as he took a step back, regretting the display of temper "Don't talk about Mom like that."
Great. Today was just going so well. What next?
The cold metal rail was slick under Skye's hands from the constant spray of the river below. She closed her eyes and took a second to just breathe. Dean had scared the crap out of her, though she was pretty sure he really hadn't meant to. Dude had a temper and should maybe consider taking an anger management class. Oddly enough, she'd never once had the feeling that he'd do the same to her as he had to Sam, no matter how angry she happened to make him. Because he's not the asshole you'd like to pretend he is. If her brain could just give her five minutes of full denial, that'd be great, even downright restful.
"You okay there, Little Bit?"
"Hm?" Looking up as Sam joined her, she smiled at the concern. "Yeah, Andre, I'm good."
"Guys." Before either of them could say anything else, Dean spoke up from where he was standing a few feet away, facing the far end of the bridge.
Turning to see what was causing the sense of urgency in his voice, Skye was more than a little shocked at the sight in front of her. Standing on the rail, dressed all in white, was the same ethereally beautiful young woman that Skye had so recently seen on a computer screen.
The air around them stilled, growing colder; their breath billowing out in thick clouds as the temperature plummeted. A palpable feeling of hopelessness and despair swirled around them, sending shivers up the spine as the scent of death and decay grew suffocating. Slowly, the apparition turned her head to look at them, her dark eyes cold and lifeless as she tipped forward, falling soundlessly into the darkness below.
Within seconds, all three of them were at the rail where she went over, peering down into the river, all expecting to see a body. Because that's what happened when someone jumped off a bridge. There was no sign of her, though. No splash. No glimpse of a white dress or an outstretched hand. Nothing. She was just gone.
...holy shit, what if Dean really had been telling the truth about everything. She'd entertained the thought before but not seriously. This was insane. This was legitimately insane.
Sounding as dumbstruck as Skye felt, Sam managed to squeeze out a few words, "Where'd she go?"
"I don't know."
Okay, not terribly comforting that Dean was also at a loss. On second thought, maybe she should have stayed in the car after all.
The headlights of the Impala flashed on, the high beams cutting through the darkness to spotlight the three of them. Falling back a few steps, Skye ended between the two reassuringly large men that flanked either side of her. On second-second thought, she was really glad she hadn't stayed in the car. Clearing her throat, she made extra-sure there was no betraying note of fear when she spoke, though it did take a couple of tries to get the words out from around the lump in her throat. "...I think I do."
"What the…"
"Dude, how's she driving your car?"
In answer, Dean dug his hand into his pocket and produced his car keys, still very much on his person. Looked like a ghost didn't need keys. Wonder what her insurance premiums were…
The sharp squeal of tires split the air around them as the driver hit the accelerator. Skye's recent experience with Dean's driving could attest that this particular car could go from zero to sixty real damn quick and it was aimed squarely at them.
Dean was already moving. She'd known he was fast, but damn, what she'd seen so far was nothing to now, when it really mattered. Before she could even fully register what was happening, he'd grabbed her, spinning on a heel and shoving her hard to the far side of the road. Well, it was more like a throw, really. It should not surprise her at all that he was capable of picking her up and tossing her around like a ragdoll. Because that wasn't disconcerting.
If she hadn't already known how to take a fall from years of practice, she'd probably have ended up a lot worse than she did. As it was, scraped palms and bruised knees was a small price to pay for not being made into a pancake by a vengeful spirit.
She rolled to her feet just in time to see Sam and Dean take a leap over the rail, each dodging the front-end of the Impala by inches. Fear got her moving and she ran, booted feet scraping against the road before she came skidding to a stop at the spot where they'd jumped.
Ignoring her bruised and protesting knees, she reached out and grabbed the shoulder of Sam's jacket as he snaked an arm over the edge, helping him haul himself up. Granted, she wasn't a lot of help, but anything was better than nothing, right?
Within seconds Sam was kneeling beside her, both of them leaning out as far as they could to see into the river rushing far below them. Heart in her throat, she searched for some sign of Dean, eyes straining as she tried to spot him against the mud covered shore. What would be worse, seeing his unconscious body bobbing along the surface or not seeing him at all? A rush of fear tied her voice in knots as she joined Sam in calling for him, forcing the single word out through a throat gone dry, "Dean!"
"Is that concern I hear, Tink?" Exchanging a glance with Sam, she sagged back, relief leaving her temporarily speechless as Dean's voice floated up to them, "I must have hit my head. I'm hallucinating."
Zeroing in on him, she finally spotted him lying on the shore, the thick mud that coated him from head-to-toe making excellent camouflage. Jesus, he actually sounded like he was laughing. He'd scared the shit out of her and he was laughing. Though to be fair, so was Sam at this point.
"Yeah, he's fine."
"I gathered." Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back, ignoring the frigid metal that was slowly soaking through her clothing to chill her skin. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm the too-fast pounding in her chest, not wanting to look as shaky on the outside as she felt on the inside. And not just because she'd almost been run down, no, that part was actually remarkably fine. No, the adrenaline hadn't hit until she'd seen Dean sailing over the rail.
...best not to think about that one too hard.
