Harvelle Supernatural

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural


Chapter 12: Lazarus Rising

September 18, 2008. I am a sophomore now in Peru, living in the house/dorm with Cheryl. Luckily we got a better deal costing an extra hundred dollars, but we get our own rooms, shared bathroom, and a den. Although we got an additional flatmate. Either way, I liked the whole single room for myself. Don't have dorm mates questioning the salts or demon traps painted on the floor underneath a carpet.

Although, the past four months had me apprehensive. Sam has barely contacted me for three months. Sure I get a couple of emails and texts now and then, but no oral communication. I tried calling him, except he would reject my call. Ever since Ruby came back, things have changed, and my new found abilities keep making my anxiety worse.

A knock on the door brought me out of my attention. "Come in."

Cheryl came in, "Hey Skylar, you want to go get some grub?"

I checked the clock seeing it was almost noon. And then my stomach growled. I couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of lunch. I've been so focused on my reading to lose track of time. Especially coming back from a two morning classes, on a Thursday. "Sure, why not."

Cheryl smiled, nodded as we grabbed our purses, then headed off to the city. We walk chatting about our new classes and what we did on summer vacation. Cheryl said she and her folks went to California meeting relatives. She babysat most of her younger relatives, earning cash and saying hi to Mickey Mouse. I told her my family and I went down to Florida at a condo relaxing on a beach, a few amusement parks like Disney World and SeaWorld, and other activities.

Although I didn't tell her those other activities involved hunting a ghost, a vampire, and don't laugh . . . Kuchisake-onna. Translated, it means Slit-Mouthed Woman.

I shuddered. The case started in July in Miami as young men in their twenties were being killed. All of them have in common were their mouths slit opened or cut in half, and they died from blood loss or damaged to the organs. I mean, being cut in half is easy to die. At first, Ellen thought it was a serial killer. But then a video leaked on a man being killed by a woman with her mouth slit opened, cutting the guy's mouth with a pair of scissors. Jo couldn't resist and went hunting for this merciless spirit called an Onryō. An urban legend from Asia of a woman being mutilated by her husband and haunts the area seeking revenge. She returned from the dead wearing a medical mask, wandering the streets till finding her prey seeking a compliment.

Even though, I don't think her returning the compliment or rejection is suitable.

The Onryō will stop the person and ask, "Am I pretty?" If the person answers no, the individual is killed with a pair of scissors that her husband used against her. If the person answers yes, the woman pulls away from the mask, revealing that her mouth slit from like a Cheshire cat, and asks, "How about now?" If the person answers no, they will be cut in half. If the person answers yes, then she will slit their mouth like hers. It is impossible to run away from her since she will find you and kill you.

Anyway, we investigated the case. Ellen went to the police station with Jo as FBI agents while I stayed in the condo doing research. After seeing the security footage and zooming in, I remembered the urban legend of the Slit-Mouthed Woman and contacted Bobby to be sure, which he confirmed the spirit we're hunting is an Onryō.

Sadly there was no knowledge in how to kill a vengeful spirit unless locking it in a willing vessel or secured in a jar blessed by a temple priestess. Ways to survive a Split-Mouthed Woman is answering her question by saying, "You're average" or "So-so." She would get confused and walk away. Another option is asking her if you're pretty and that she would leave. Also, offerings of fruits and candies would make her vanish.

We spent three days finding the damn jar bless by a priestess at a Japanese community. Then comes finding the spirit, which resulted in me dressed as a boy. I was pissed, though Jo used Skylar's clairvoyances shall detect trouble. Ellen didn't want me to do it, but I did it, hating every moment of it. I walked nonstop around Miami, trying to attract Slit-Mouthed Woman, till waltzing into an abandoned alleyway. That is when she came asking me the question.

"Am I pretty?" She asked.

I stood there looking at her. An Onryō standing before me as a young woman dressed in a white summer dress, black long hair in a tangled mess, pale skin, and vibrant blue eyes, and blood on the ends of her cheeks behind a medical mask. My heart beating fast as such for poor unfortunate soul. How could a man do this to his wife? All because of some stupid misunderstanding and accused of an affair.

"You're average," I answered.

The Slit-Mouthed Woman stood there, arching her head confused. "Average?"

On cue, Ellen and Jo came in. Jo carried the jar while Ellen held her cellphone where Bobby's voice enchanted the Japanese spell to trap the Onryō in the sacred jar. After a days' worth, we dropped the jar at a temple in Florida where the monks assure us they would keep the jar safe.

My Spidey senses were tingling as I grabbed my cellphone. A moment later the phone rang with an unknown number. Cheryl chuckled, shaking her head. She found this new trick amusing, thinking I put the phone on vibrate, and when it rings, anyway back to the call.

"Skylar Harvelle," I greeted.

"Sky, it's me, Dean." The person on the other line said.

Immediately I hanged up. That was impossible. Dean was dead, and his soul's rotting in hell. There was no way this could be Dean Winchester. So it must be a demon possessing Dean's body since Sam buried him instead of cremating or a shapeshifter? It's the only logical explanation.

My phone rang again, the same caller. I told Cheryl I'll meet her at the café. Cheryl hesitated but went on anyway to the café. I sighed, stopping at an alleyway, answering the phone.

"Sky, listen to me," Dean pleaded. "I know this is strange, but it's really me."

"Prove it," I sneered.

"Mid February 2007, you went to Springfield University for some college program. There a professor died, and you called Sam and me to investigate it. We drove you insane and mad that you left and got kidnapped by the trickster. Who was into Weekly World News, and he attempted to scare you off with the Kidney Heist. You somehow got away running in your bra and jeans, and then Sam took you back to the motel tending to your wounds while Bobby and I went to find the damn baster. The next day I found you and Sam spooning, took a picture, and teased you both to the very end. I think Sam had a boner as well." This supposes Dean said.

No demon could possibly know that. Then I remember he had the anti-possession tattoo. Therefore, no shifter or ghoul could possibly know specific detail of that case. But I had to be sure this was no con-monster.

"What drink did you get drunk at the college?" I asked.

"Skylar, seriously?" Dean asked.

"What drink?" I demanded.

"Purple Nurples," Dean muttered. "And you pulled my ear because of it."

Yep, that's Dean, alright. I thought then said, "Dean…how…I mean…"

"How am I out of hell, sweetheart?" Dean finished.

"Yes," I said. "Bobby and Sam…they said you were dead."

"That's something I like to know," Dean muttered. "But that's not why I am calling. I can't reach Sam, and Bobby won't answer my calls."

"Dean, you've been dead for four months." I clarified.

". . . You think you can give me Sam's number?" Dean asked.

"Sam doesn't call me anymore," I said.

"What the hell do ya me?" Dean asked. "You're like his psychiatrist."

"Well, he only texts me through prepaid phones and emails me. Anytime I try contacting him, I'm greeted by an answering machine." I explained.

"Damn it, Sam," Dean cursed. "Can you try contacting Bobby, tell him I'm coming?"

"Okay, Rick Grimes, I'll let him know you're coming," I said.

"Thanks, Sky," Dean said.

"Oh, and Dean," I murmured.

"Yeah?" he spoke.

"When you see Sam, can you punch him for me?" I asked.

"Uh, sure," Dean promised.

"Thanks," I said.

We hang up, and I called Bobby, letting him know that a hunter name Rick Grimes would be coming over for help on a case. Bobby said, sure. I thanked him before hanging up and went to the café to meet up with Cheryl. I hated that I would be lying to Bobby. But if I said Dean was coming over, he would be offended.

So hopefully, Dean has his strength.

Five days later, I get a picture on my phone of Sam rubbing his swollen cheek. A comment underneath said:

Punched him for ya -Dean

Well, Dean sure knows how to keep his promises.


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