Tyler didn't remember much of her walk up and down the runway; she'd been too focused on walking in a straight line on the high heels they'd forced her into. Once it was over she immediately wanted to go back to the dressing room and get out of her get-up, but the designer grabbed her to walk onto the runway again and receive flowers. Confetti signalled the end of the show and after getting backstage, Tyler kicked off the high heels, slung them over her shoulder and made her way back to the dressing room. She needed to talk to Dean.
It took about 10 minutes for her to get out of her gown and to clean the make-up from her face. She'd just put on a dressing gown and slung her braided hair over her shoulder, when there was a knock on the door. Tyler got up quickly, and opened the door. As she suspected, it was Dean.
"Hey," she said as she ushered him in, and put a finger to his lips to keep him from speaking. The models were not supposed to have their significant others in the dressing rooms as far as she was aware and if Dean were found here there might be trouble. No trouble they couldn't get out of, but she'd rather not make waves. She listened at the door for any signs that people were coming towards the dressing room, but she heard nothing. Only then did she take her finger from his lips. Dean had been watching her with an unreadable look on his face.
"What?" he asked.
"Just wanted to make sure no one was going to barge in," Tyler said. "So….I was right. Look," she grabbed him by the arm and led him to where he could clearly see the puddle of ectoplasm she'd noticed earlier.
"Ectoplasm. Shit," Dean said. "Okay, so we need to do some research before we confront whatever ghost it is. Need to know where the body is buried."
Tyler nodded. "Wait here till I get dressed, and we can go back to our hotel room."
She didn't wait for his reply, but immediately went to the folding screen behind which she had dumped her clothes.
Dean waited for Tyler to change into her regular clothes, his back to her even though she was behind a folding screen. He'd actually quite liked the show, and when Tyler came out in a beautiful white dress with a long train and a translucent silver veil he'd felt oddly…proud. As proud as an actual husband would be of his wife if she were to close out a high end fashion show and left everyone enchanted.
Tommy, who'd been sitting behind Dean, let out an almost inaudible 'wow', which served as the figurative slap in the face and brought Dean back to the reality of it all. They were only pretending to be husband and wife. He had no right to feel that way. Before he could start reflecting on why that made him sad, Dean began to look around, searching for evidence of ghost activity. He wasn't expecting to find anything, but it kept him distracted enough.
After the show was over, he'd quickly made his way towards the dressing room he guessed was hers. He could've just gone to their hotel room and wait for her there, but he wanted to congratulate her. Of course, before he could even say anything, she'd pulled him into the room and shushed him. He had to admit: her warm finger on his lips had felt good. Any thoughts in his mind at that moment had dissipated. But before long the moment was over and they were talking about ghosts instead. Anything to not have to deal with his burgeoning feelings.
"Okay, ready," Tyler said as she appeared next to him. Dean opened the dressing room door, checked if there was no one coming, and then gestured for Tyler to precede him.
A couple of hours of hard research and three mugs of hot chocolate later, Tyler closed her laptop and looked over at a stretched-out Dean, lying on the couch of their hotel room. "We're in agreement then? It's Lily Jordan?"
Dean nodded as he sat up. "Has to be. Only married for three hours before her husband cheated on her, and she got killed in a car accident."
Tyler sighed. "I was hoping it wasn't her. She's cremated."
"Yeah, and I don't think there's anything we can do to banish her from Earth. She was from out of town, and her old home has been demolished."
Tyler stretched and audibly popped her knuckles. "Well, maybe I can use the knife I used on the demon. For some reason that seemed to work."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we're dead. I'm not a medium. Can't just talk people into going to the afterlife."
Dean swung his legs over the couch's armrests and then stood. "Well, let's go kill a ghost I guess."