Bedeviling the Chipper
By: Maygin
Summary: "Loneliness is never more cruel than when it is felt in close propinquity with someone who has ceased to communicate." – Germaine Greer
Disclaimer: I am not making any money off of nor do I own anything supernatural… other than my roommate.
Sidenote: Hey guys, thank you sooo much for the reviews! That's awesome! I love ALL reviews, even if you feel like you've got nothing intelligent to add… intelligence is for dumb people… HA!... okay no. Moving on- some people are fearing that this is a death fic… Fear not friends! I am physically incapable of writing a death fic, I've been conditioned with the 'happily ever after' syndrome; which means one day I shall rule the galaxy because that will make me happy.
CHAPTER 4
The humming of the engine was a welcome comfort from the dead silence that had fallen over them. The sense of loss and uncertainty was overly-oppressive and hung heavy in their thoughts. Dean numbly pushed the accelerator slowly down as the light turned green.
Where was Sam? What if by killing the monster he'd somehow inadvertently killed his little brother? Had he lost him for good this time? These were the thoughts that were assaulting him. He ran a hand over his face and head in frustration and helplessness… he hated this not knowing crap. He slumped in his seat allowing the vibrations from the car to overwhelm his thoughts.
"Earlier…" Cal hesitated, his voice had been mildly quiet, especially for him, but it had sliced through the depressing silence like a whip cracking in an empty theater. "Earlier you mentioned spiking…" his lips moved, searching for the right words.
Dean spared him the effort, not in the mood to see the man squirm. "It's a theory." He answered quietly. "Dad found it a long time ago." Dean shifted in his seat. "When for whatever reason a spirit becomes attached to this world, they go through a process called spiking. The energy around them fluctuates. You know how people that almost die say they saw their life flash before their eyes?" he continued at Cal's nod, almost grateful for the distracting conversation. "Well apparently peoples soul's go through this process of release… life flashes… helps them detach their spirits from their body and the world… apparently." He paused, shaking his head; he hated this theoretical crap too. It was always Sam's arena, not his.
"So…" Cal's eyes focused on the passing cars, "ghosts are spirits that got jipped?"
"More or less. We always figured some kind of emotional trauma or negative energy in the person before their death interrupted the process somehow, causing their spirit to anchor."
"But Sam's not dead." Cal reasoned.
Dean took a deep breath, "Yeah." God, he wanted more than anything for that to be true.
"So the spiking is what?"
Dean tilted his head, allowing the sun to warm his cold, dead thoughts. "Spirits were never meant to exist on our plane."
"So the energy around them spikes?" Cal stated, beginning to catch on.
"Yeah," Dean took another deep breath, "The theory goes; every time they spike, the negative energy cancels out the positive until all that's left is a very pissed off spirit."
Cal was silent for a few moments, processing. "They lose everything good about them until there's nothing but- what, anger?"
"Typically it's focused on one event or something that happened in their life."
"And that's why you told him that memory with the paint? To focus Sam on the positive? Help him remember?"
Dean shrugged, "Sam actually came up with that part of the theory a long time ago." Cal nodded, at least now he understood some of the last twelve hours of his life. Dean it seemed wasn't finished though, "He was like, seven." He shook his head a sad smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, "Even then he was a brilliant little kid. Always comin up with smart shit and stuff. Dad and I would probably've been dead a long time ago if it wasn't for him and his... deduction skills." He swallowed and cleared his throat suddenly. What was wrong with him?
Cal's eyes hadn't left the older brother beside him. He did a quick sweep with his fingers, making sure it was non-chalant… that last thing he wanted was to freak Dean out because he was tearing up. His own chest swelled with emotions. "So where are we going?"
Dean swallowed down that familiar lump once more and shook his head, his eyes hypnotized by the passing yellow lines on the left. He just didn't want to think anymore. He was emotionally drained and he was right back where he started… without Sam.
"Why don't we go see your brother." Cal stated with finality.
Dean's head shot around, searching his passengers face.
"At the hospital," the blond man clarified.
Dean felt that lump plunge in his chest again, "I already told you I can't."
"I have a friend who works at Saint Lukes. I can get you in."
Dean stared at Cal again. He felt his eyes burn… why the hell was this guy helping him anyways? All he'd done since he'd first stepped into his line of site was degrade him. His jaw clamped down tightly and he took another deep breath.
Cal stared right on back, a look of simple understanding on his face. "Let's go see Sam."
Dean turned back to the windshield, his eyes picking up the street sign on their left. He wanted to see his brother, more than anything… but at the same time, there was a piece of him that dreaded it. Dreaded it because he knew he'd made a promise… a promise he didn't want to fulfill. He licked his lips, but finally gave an affirmative nod. "Let's go see Sam."
TBC…