"-and that's about it."

"So a Woman in White is a woman that kills her kids and then herself because she was cheated on and then becomes a serial-killer after death?" Sitting cross-legged on the other end of the bench seat with an elbow on a knee and her chin in her hand, Skye paid no attention whatsoever to the darkened landscape that blew by the window in an unending streak of evergreen shadows, instead focused on him and his explanations so intently he could feel her eyes burning a hole in his head. He'd been half-wishing he really had her attention for the last few days and now that he had it, he wasn't sure he wanted it. "You'd think the dead would have better things to do with their time."

"Yeah, pretty much. You know, you're taking all of this really well." Shifting in his seat, Dean glanced at her before quickly turning his attention back to the road, unwilling to look away while driving at night on a narrow highway going well over the speed limit. At least, not for more than a second or two. "I mean, we did just steal a car...and you're cool with that?"

Leaning her head back against the window, Skye closed her eyes, a slight smile tracing itself along her lips. "Truck."

"What?"

"We stole a truck, not a car. Well, you stole a truck, I'm just accomplicing." They were going a hundred and ten on a dark highway in a stolen truck to save his brother from a homicidal ghost. Anyone in their right mind would be freaking the fuck out right about now and she was being pedantic?

"...you know 'accomplicing' isn't a word, right?"

Now who was being pedantic?


The tick of the rapidly cooling engine was the only sound that penetrated the thick silence around Sam, his eyes glued to the rearview as Constance flickered in and out of view in the backseat. "Don't do this Constance."

Her voice as hollow and frigid as the rest of her, she met his gaze, repeating the same phrase as if it were the only words she knew, "I can never go home."

Realization dawned on Sam and he twisted around in his seat to look at her, the lightbulb flashing above his head bright enough to dispel the fear chilling his soul...for a few seconds anyway. "You're scared to go home."

...and she was gone.

Twisting back around, Sam grabbed at the door lock, fingers slipping off the slick metal, unable to gain enough purchase to pull it up. Turning to try the passenger side door, Sam was brought up short when Constance made her grand reappearance.

Inches away from him, her arm draped across the back of the seat, she radiated an intense cold so deep it caught the air in his throat and threatened to choke him. Between one blink and the next, she was on him, shoving him back hard enough to slam the seat down.

"Hold me." Moving in a grotesque parody of seduction, she straddled his waist, grinding painfully against him. "I'm so cold."

The term 'cold as the grave' ran through his mind and he really wished it hadn't. Gasping, Sam tried to shove her away, tried to move, held down by her hand on his chest with an appalling strength no human woman could ever match.

Her arctic touch stole the oxygen from his lungs, making it a struggle to speak. Fighting to take a ragged breath, he forced the words out through clenched teeth, "Y-you can't k-kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've n-never been."

Giving Sam a sultry look, Constance threw herself down, her lips met his with bruising force. Her words echoed around them, chilling him in a way that was far deeper than the physical.

"...you will be."


"You ever cheated, Winchester?"

"What?" The unexpected question pulled Dean's attention away from the road for long enough that he was forced to either let up on the accelerator or plow into a pine tree. "The hell kind of question is that?"

Slouching down in her seat with her knees jammed against the dash, Skye looked up from the window, meeting his eyes until he was forced to look back at the road. Lips twitching, she shook her head, laughter warming her voice as she resumed her inspection of the passing treeline, "Seemed like a reasonable question, considering the circumstances."

Wait, which circumstances? She had to be talking about the whole Constance thing. Maybe she was worried about him, which was kind of a nice thought. If he'd ever cheated, then Constance could kill him, not that she probably wouldn't try anyway. There was no way she could mean anything else, right? "No, I've never cheated."

Her amusement fading, she cleared her throat, not looking away from the window as a hand strayed to the braid curled over her shoulder. "...ever had a girl around long enough to cheat on?"

Hands tightening on the steering wheel until the leather creaked beneath his fingers, Dean tried to figure out if there was any possible way that could be related to Constance and came up blank. It didn't help that the part of his brain that wouldn't let him sink completely into denial was laughing its ass off. "Are you asking me if I've ever had a girlfriend?"

Silence. A very long silence. Okay, maybe like thirty seconds, but it sure as hell felt longer. "...yeah, and?"

He was supposed to be focusing on whatever in the hell they were going to find in like five minutes, including a possibly dead or injured Sam, and she wanted to ask this shit now? Great. Good timing.

"One. A couple years ago. Her name was Cassie." Somehow managing to ignore the looming feeling that this conversation was way more important than it had any right to be, Dean found himself answering honestly, that inner prompting telling him that lying right now would be a really bad idea. "I was twenty-three and she was in her first year of college. It did not end well."

And she was watching him again. He couldn't figure out which was worse, when she was looking at him like that or when she wasn't, that little smile twitching at the corners of her mouth again. "That explains so much."

"...the fuck is that supposed to mean?"


Gulping a ragged breath into screaming lungs, Sam shoved himself upright, eyes darting around the darkened interior as he tried to spot where Constance had gone. A faint spark of hope flared in his chest. And was quickly stomped to death when he was slammed back down, unseen hands sliding up his chest, the skin beneath burning with the cold.

Flickering into view like a bad movie reel, Constance's once lovely features had melted away, revealing a skeletal appearance straight out of a Stephen King novel. Unfortunately this was reality and he couldn't just put the book down.

Scrabbling at his chest, Sam screamed as felt her icy fingers slide beneath flesh and bone to wrap around his heart...


Rounding a bend in the highway, 2403 Breckenridge came into view a few hundred yards away, an old farmhouse long abandoned and left to rot. Motor off and the lights out, the Impala sat skewed in front of the crumbling wooden fence that wrapped around the property.

"Put your seatbelt on, please. " Without a word of protest or hesitation, Skye did as ordered. Good to know she didn't have to argue with or question every single little thing. Or maybe it was because he asked nicely. Either way… "Thank you."

Pressing the accelerator to the floor, the truck hit the edge of the dirt lot that had once been a yard, fishtailing as Dean hit the brakes and spun the wheel hard to the left, the back bumper coming to rest just a few feet from the tail-end of the Impala.

"Stay here." Yelling back over his shoulder, Dean bailed out of the truck as Sam's scream ripped through the air, sending Skyler scrambling out of the truck right behind him in spite of his explicit instructions. Which he would make sure she heard all about after he saved Sam's ass.

Sprinting to the driver's side door, Dean reached for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans, spotting Constance's ghastly visage leering over Sam. With no other viable options, Dean pointed the gun and pulled the trigger with just enough presence of mind to yell at Skye to cover her ears.

Well, bullets might not hurt ghosts, but a gun and an explosion of window glass was at least enough to startle one for a few seconds, giving Sam a reprieve from imminent death. And Sam promptly used that chance to try and kill himself.

As Constance flickered back into view in the passenger seat, Sam sat up and grabbed at the keys sitting in the ignition. With a deep rumble, the V8 roared to life before Sam threw it into drive and hit the gas.


His ears ringing, Sam sucked in a lungful of air, thick pieces of safety glass raining down around him as he sat up. Acting on impulse as felt the chill start to radiate from the passenger seat, announcing Constance's presence before she shimmered into view. Groping for the keys, he wrenched the over, shifting into drive as soon as the engine caught.

Flooring the accelerator, he scrambled for the seatbelt, throwing it on just seconds before plowing through the fence and into the wall of the house a few yards beyond it.