Disclaimer: the boys aren't mine; just for fun.
Warnings: takes place sometime after the current season
Pairings: implied Dean/Sam
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 1145
Point of view: third
Dedication: layne67
Prompt: Sam/Dean, third person POV, maybe Sam's old college friend perhaps? And the friend sensing that there's something between them but he/she couldn't quite pin it for what it is?
Notes: this doesn't exactly follow the prompt. hope you like it nonetheless!
Bethany didn't make it a habit to sneak out of the house after curfew, but Mom and Dave were yelling loud enough to wake the dead, so she made an exception.
They didn't even notice when she crept by the den, just kept screaming about bills and college—which was still over two years away, so made no sense—and some woman named Monica.
Oh. Bethany paused. Dave cheated on Mom? Bastard.
Anyway. She made it out of the house without getting caught and headed east, to the graveyard. Only Janna knew about her habit of wandering around cemeteries, and Janna was in Austin with her dad for the week.
It was after midnight and the streets were quiet. Bethany cut through a few yards; only Buddy, the Newman's' Rottweiler was out and he woofed softly at her, thumping his tail on the ground. She smiled at him and kept going.
Only a single, rusty chain held the gate shut. She climbed over the fence. This particular graveyard, Shady Grove, hadn't been used in decades. It was quiet, peaceful.
Janna didn't really understand this habit of hers, wandering around in-between tombstones with the words long since faded away into shadows. Bethany found it soothing, seeing that everything would end.
Dad's grave is in Alabama. Bethany'd never been there, but she really wanted to go. The instant she turned eighteen, she was running and never looking back.
She walked around the cemetery for a few minutes, just soaking up peace. She buried all her problems with ease, since there really weren't that many, and sank against one of the tombstones, leaning back into the cool marble.
Bethany didn't mean to fall asleep and she startled awake when someone cursed just on the other side of the headstone.
"Damnit, dude, watch what you're doin'!"
Bethany jerked, gasping. Someone was rustling just out of sight. Multiple someones. Multiple male someones.
Oh, shit.
She held her breath, sinking down even further.
"Dean, you walked into me!" a second voice said. "And quiet down."
"You quiet down," the first voice shot back.
So, just two someones.
A heavy sigh reverberated through the night; despite her predicament, Bethany had to bite her lip so she wouldn't giggle.
"Your wit astounds me, Dean."
"Shut up, Sam."
Bethany listened as the two dropped stuff and then—were they digging up the grave? What the hell for?
All of sudden, everything got quiet. Bethany had to take a breath, so she did it as silently as possible.
When the large hand grabbed her arm and pulled, she screamed. Almost instantly, another hand covered her mouth.
"Whoa, whoa," the first voice, Dean, said, turning her around without removing either hand. "Just calm down, alright? We won't hurt you."
She looked at them, trying to follow his instructions. They both were big, so big. She couldn't see much beyond that in the moonlight.
"I'll let go if you don't scream," Dean said. She nodded.
Slowly, he lifted his hands off her. She stood still, heart racing, promising God and Mom that she'd never leave the house after dark again if she made it home unhurt tonight.
"What the hell are you doing in a graveyard at night?" Dean asked.
That startled her enough to respond, "What are you?"
Sam, even larger than Dean, holy hell, snorted. Then he said soothingly, "We're not doing any harm."
She nodded, fear and shock turning to the stupid bravery that had her jumping out of a two-story window on a dare in third grade. "Right, digging up graves for kicks is harmless."
"You should just go home, forget you ever saw us," Dean suggested, and it sounded anything but.
Big as they were, they hadn't made any threatening moves yet. She got the feeling they wouldn't. Not quite harmless, but not dangerous, either.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Dean groaned. "Look, kid, just go home, alright?"
Mom told her once that she inherited her stubbornness from her father. "No. Not until you explain."
In the dark, Bethany watched their silhouettes turn to each other. After a few moments, they turned back to her.
"There's a vengeful spirit with bones in this grave," Sam said confidently. "We burn the bones and pour salt over the fire, the spirit will be destroyed."
She scoffed. "The truth."
"That is the truth, sweetheart," Dean replied. "Been a lot of strange deaths in this town, all centered at the Town Hall. You've noticed, right?"
Which, yeah, she had. That's why she and Janna hadn't ever snuck in there during meetings, even when Carlos Mancia came for a show.
"Fine," she said. "I'll just stay here and watch then."
"No," they responded at the same time.
She crossed her arms. "Unless you physically force me, I'm not leaving. And if you do that, I'll scream. Bet that'd put a crimp in your ghost-busting plans."
"Please go home," Dean groaned. "Kid, this isn't a joke. It's dangerous."
Bethany raised an eyebrow. "I can wait."
Sam sighed. "Dean, let's just get back to it."
They made her hold the flashlight. If it drifted over to them instead of the ground a few times so she could see what they looked like, neither of them mentioned it.
Old, but not too old. Late twenties, early thirties, maybe. Damn fine, too. Even with her as an audience, they bickered like one of those old couples on ancient TV shows. They seemed to forget she was there, moving around each other with long-practiced ease.
She wondered if Mom and Dad had been like that, before the accident. If maybe one day she could have that.
It was over quickly, Dean dropping a lit match onto the gasoline-soaked corpse. "Ya'll do this a lot?" she asked, watching it burn.
Sam chuckled. Dean said, "Yeah."
Sunlight was softly beginning to glow in the east. She studied them; they really were damn fine. "If I asked nicely, would ya'll kiss?"
They shared a look, then Dean shook his head. "Sorry, sweetheart. We don't do shows."
"Want us to walk you home?" Sam asked as Dean packed up their kit.
"Thanks, but no thanks," she answered. "I can handle that."
"Just…" Dean paused. "Don't go out at night anymore. It's not safe."
She stared up at him, then moved her gaze to Sam. Not harmless, but not dangerous, either. The next people she met might not be like that. It really would be best to stay in from now on… plus, there was her promise to Mom and God.
"I'll think about it," she said.
Dean scoffed. "'course you will."
She didn't say goodbye, and she bet they followed her home. Instead of freaking her, that made her feel safe.
Mom and Dave greeted her at the door, angry and relieved. She listened to their rant and finally shook them off to go call Janna.