Sounds Like Shadows

Thanks for the lovely reviews and thanks for sticking with me. Almost done...

Chapter Five

"He killed her?" Sam whispered. "Maybe we've been worrying about the wrong person?"

Dean shushed him, not wanting to draw the woman's attention back to them.

"Wake up, Otis," she said in a sing-song voice. "It's your Tiger-Lily."

Dean didn't know if Otis was really dead at this point or just pretending. If he were Otis, he was pretty sure he'd do his best to stay dead.

"Wake up, you bastard!" she screeched and the brothers saw claws starting to spring from her fingers.

Otis' eyes sprang open and he looked down at her in horror. "Lily!"

"How are you feeling, my love?" she smiled up at him.

"Lily, I… I…"

"Yes? What would you like to say to me?" she smiled sweetly. Only the claws belied her sweetness.

"Lily, I… I'm…"

"You're sorry you killed me? It was an accident? You would never hurt me?" Her voice was losing its charm and becoming harsh, almost a growl.

"Lily, please help me down. I… I'm sorry. You know I love you," he sobbed.

"Do you always say how much you love your wife by shooting her?"

"Cut me down?"

"No, love…" she said as if thinking it out, though Dean had the feeling this scene had been played out over and over. "I think I will leave you just where you are."

"Cut me down?"

"Here we go again," Dean sighed. "Whining never gets you anywhere with women, dude." Especially not with a woman whose nickname was 'Tiger-Lily.' And Dean had no doubt that she'd earned the name in life. She might as well have had 'battleaxe' tattooed on her forehead.

"Men," she hissed, still looking up at her husband. "You think you can murder a woman and she won't do a thing about it."

Her eyes left the rafters and settled on Sam. "You know what I mean, don't you, Sam?"

Sam blinked like he was just waking up.

"You think Jess doesn't know that you killed her?"

Sam flinched like he'd been sucker punched. "Don't talk about her," he said angrily.

"She knew you were having bad dreams." The ghost was back to using her sing-song voice. "Remember? She asked you what they were about?"

Dean could tell from the look on his brother's face that he did.

"Remember what you told her?" Sam hunched over, a hand over his heart, almost like he was protecting it. "You said you were worried about your interview coming up…" she looked at him pityingly, "Worried about getting into law school."

"I couldn't tell her," he whispered. "How could I tell her?"

"So worried about being a lawyer, protecting the innocent. Yet you leave the innocent woman who loves you and depends on you in ignorance to die. So worried about doing well in school, keeping her in deadly ignorance so you could be normal. Worried about your grades, your tests when you knew something was wrong." The woman moved closer, her step graceful and lithe, almost cat-like. "You were right though. It was test anxiety. You had one last test, love." Her claws began to extend. "You failed. Miserably."

"Stop," Sam held out a hand in front of him as if to physically stop her words.

"You think Jess doesn't know you failed her?" she cooed. "Oh she knows, love. Jess knows. She asked me to make you pay. Make you pay for killing her."

"Lady," Dean said, stepping in front of his brother, blocking him from seeing her. "You are really starting to piss me off. I'm beginning to agree with your husband. I think he shot you just to get you to shut up."

"Ahhh, Dean," she eyed him angrily, though still smiling, "who thinks he can protect a murderer from me, when he is no better himself. You think I won't just kill you first?"

"I was sort of hoping to avoid the death part all together," Dean grinned, matching her smile for smile.

"But you see, you are a killer. Just like your brother. How many times have you killed just to protect yourself… to protect that male ego that shines so brightly," she said, taking another step toward him. "How many women's hearts have you left strewn behind you while you go on your merry way?"

"Lady… I am not about to discuss my personal philosophy on the state of modern womanhood. What I am gonna do, is say that if you come anywhere near my brother, I'm gonna kill you. Again. Got it?"

"Oh, Otis tried," she said, sparing a look at her husband still dangling from the rafters. "I believe he said I was too… What was it Otis?"

"I called you a bossy old bag who wouldn't let me be!" Otis screamed. "Now cut me down!"

"Oooook, Otis," Dean rolled his eyes. "Good call. That'll talk her into it."

"Otis," she laughed, "is that any way to talk to your Tiger-Lily? Don't worry. I'll get back to you." She again began stalking toward Dean, who braced himself for an attack.

"You think you can win? No man is my better. You all deserve to be exterminated. Murderers… every last one of you. A woman steps up because her husband is a weak-willed simpleton and what happens?" She raised fiery eyes to her husband. "One day he shoots her and dumps her down the well. He doesn't even have the nerve to stand up to her properly. He has to SHOOT HER WHILE SHE'S SLEEPING," she roared.

Dean hoped like everything that while he was distracting their homicidal tigress of a ghost, Sam was getting hold of some salt. Because even if he couldn't do anything more than throw it at her, that was better than having his face ripped off.

"Men. Cowards… Murderers…" Her eyes came back to rest on Dean.

"I'm sensing a theme here," Dean said, keeping his expression all innocence.

"Killers…" She took another step, bringing her within only a few feet of him.

"With such a lovely specimen as yourself, how could we be anything else?" he held her gaze.

"Your brother won't get to the salt before I kill you," she smiled and Dean mentally swore. "But it was a nice thought. You men… always sticking together. Maybe I'll kill you together," she laughed, almost merrily.

Once again, Dean wished like anything he had Marigold. Now that was a trustworthy female. She might be a shotgun, but she was loyal. And she might be homicidal, but she was far more careful than Crazy Ghost Chick about who she killed. So she wasn't so big on chit chat. A man could appreciate that too at times. If he wanted over-emotional chit chat, he always had Sam.

Without warning, Lily lunged at him, claws spread wide. Dean twisted, instinctively trying to avoid them, but felt the sickening sensation of flesh tearing as the claws tore through his side, creating jagged furrows. Dean fell heavily, already turning to ensure that Sam was out of reach and to see where the ghost had moved to.

Sam was sitting several feet away, salt in hand looking every which way. The ghost, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"Crap! Where'd she go?"

"She just vanished," Sam said, still scanning the barn for any sign of her.

Dean put his hand to his side and it came away sticky with blood. He fought to stand, but his injured leg refused to comply. Dean dragged himself back, until his back bumped the edge of one of the stalls, so at least he wasn't completely out in the open.

Sam started moving toward him. They both heard a snarl and then Sam flew backwards, slamming into the wall of the barn. The wood gave way and he tumbled outside.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. Again he tried to get to his feet and failed. "Sam talk to me!"

Dean felt a sudden pressure on his knees. He was starting to see stars and blinked trying to force them away. Then he swore, realizing it wasn't blood loss. The pressure increased on his knees and the shadows that had been crowding his vision coalesced into the form of Lily straddling his legs.

"He's resting peacefully," she said, her eyes running up and down Dean's body. "He can wait." She brought her hands up to rest against his chest. "We can have a little time to ourselves."

"You're going to have to move a little closer if you want to use me shamelessly," Dean said.

Lily smiled and began to move her hands lower, gliding over his chest. Dean quit breathing as her hand brushed over the claw marks in his side, but she didn't linger, continuing lower.

Dean screamed when she dug her fingers into his injured leg, claws extending into the muscle. Now he really was seeing stars. He couldn't think. His leg felt like she was trying to twist it from his body.

"Not so brave now, are we?" she hissed into his face.

"Otis," Dean yelled. "A little help here! Get yourself down here now!"

"He can't get down," Lily chuckled and Dean could feel her cold breath against his cheek. "He's waiting for me to do it. He has always waited on me to do everything. That's the beauty of his punishment."

She dug her clawed fingers into the wounds again, making Dean bang his head back against the stall to fight the screaming pain. The agony of it saved him, however, from showing his surprise. She didn't know that Otis could free himself. Dean still couldn't see past her, but he listened closely and wanted to weep with relief when he heard the heavy sound of Otis falling to the floor.

The woman must have heard it too, because she released Dean's leg. He had to bite his lip not to whimper at the reprieve. The chick had a wicked grip. He'd give her that.

She turned, but before she could rise, Otis barreled into her, knocking her away from Dean. He could hear them grappling, then as his vision cleared he could see them rolling, fighting for position. Talk about a match made in hell.

Dean heard a different noise and turned to look, though the movement made him dizzy. He saw Sam hauling himself drunkenly through the hole he'd made in the wall on the way out. He still had the canister of salt in his hand. He ripped it open and without any attempt at finesse, unceremoniously dumped the remainder on the couple who evaporated, their shadows fading into nothing.

"Dean?"

He looked up at Sam, who seemed very far away, and not just because Dean was sitting on the floor and Sam was as tall as the Empire State Building. Dean gave him a lopsided grin. "Hey, Sammy. Better late than never."

"You ok?"

Dean, still breathing hard, pointed behind Sam to the hole in the wall. The sun was coming up, the dawn lighting the horizon. It was over. At least for today. "Remind me… not to… marry… a crazy person."

Sam knelt down beside him. "Sure, Dean."

"Course… if not crazy…" His brain felt fuzzy. "Won't have… anything… to do… with me."

"Come on," Sam said and his urgent tone surprised Dean. "We've got to get you up. You need a doctor."

"They gone?"

"Yeah." Sam put a hand under Dean's arm and spent several seconds trying to haul him to his feet, finally getting him upright and then leaned him against the stall so they could both get their breath.

Dean looked around the barn, blinking in the early morning light as his head cleared slightly. He glanced up into the rafters and saw the noose evaporate like a puff of smoke.

He raised a dismayed eyebrow. "Til death do us part, my ass."

Hope this worked for you... Just a little chapter tomorrow to tie up the loose ends...