"Hi, ma'am, I'm from Texas Tech University, and for one of my classes I have to conduct a study on small town history. I was wondering if I could take a look through your records?" Sam smiled. The older woman didn't even think to inquire what class Sam was doing this for before motioning for Sam to follow her. She led him to a small, slightly mildewy back room and gestured to the piles of dusty boxes. "Thanks," the old woman nodded and shuffled away.
Sam seated himself at one of the few small, rickety tables and pulled the first box towards him. He began thumbing through the files absently before realizing they were in absolutely no order at all. Sam groaned in frustration.
He picked up his phone and hit the first number on speed dial. "Hey Dean? You're going to need to stall the spirit for a while, or something. These records are going to take hours to go through. Apparently investing in a computer and filing system is not a priority for this town. "
Tessa groaned and buried her face in her pillow. Minutes after Dean had abruptly walked out, he'd thrown sticks at her window until she'd opened it up and yelled at him. He'd ordered her to stay in her room and not break the god damn salt lines.
Tessa had spent several hours now pacing the floor, then listening to music, then lying on her bed. It was killing her to be sitting here, doing absolutely nothing, while there was apparently a ghost in her house that might possibly try to kill her. Any slight creak in the stairs made her jump; she couldn't rest. She was worried for her safety, worried for Dean and Sam, but most of all, she was worried for her father. He could arrive home at any second and be completely vulnerable to the ghost. It's not like she could explain this situation to him; he'd throw it off as grief-related delirium and make her go to her uncles.
Creak.
Tessa froze. She listened, praying that she had imagined the noise, but then again she heard it. The floorboards above her head, on the third floor, creaked, as if someone, or something, was walking. Tessa stood and crept over to the door, careful to not touch the salt. She peered into the hallway, and seeing nothing, stepped out cautiously. She heard the creaking again. It was definitely coming from upstairs.
Tessa considered her options. She could a.) hide in her room, b.) yell for Dean and let him investigate, or c.) check it out herself. Tessa decided on the latter. She crept up the staircase, careful to skip over the squeaky stair three quarters of the way up. At first, everything seemed to be in its place. Then she noticed the lights. The lights were flickering, more and more the closer she got to the bedroom where her mom and brother died. The air grew colder and colder, and Tessa couldn't breathe. She slipped into the bedroom and glanced around. Besides the light and air, everything seemed to be perfectly normal.
"Thank God," Tessa murmured. She sat down on the edge of the bed, too immersed in her own thoughts to notice the door easing closed behind her. When the lock clicked into place, Tessa jerked her head up. She rushed over to the door, but a gust of air threw her back, slamming her against the dresser. Her shoulder screamed with pain as she pulled herself to her feet. She tried to raise the room's single window, but it was locked.
"Damn it!" Tessa screamed. She could feel the spirit in the room, watching, waiting. Tessa turned around, trembling from head-to-toe. She noticed the poker by the fireplace, and remembered what Sam had told her about iron. Just as her fingertips closed around the handle, the ghost woman materialized. Tessa held the poker like a baseball bat, high on her shoulder. The woman disappeared, giving Tessa a split second opportunity. She swung the poker at the window, ducking as shards of glass flew through the air.
"Dean! Dean!" Tessa screamed. Dean had been sitting on the curb, but now he was running towards the house, pulling a pistol from his jacket.
"Damn it! That bitch has the doors bolted! There's something blocking them!" Dean yelled. Tessa felt a pang in her chest. She was locked in, and Dean was locked out.
Suddenly, Tessa had an idea. It was crazy, and dangerous, and might kill her, but it was the only option. "Dean! I'm going to jump, okay? Don't let me break my neck!" Before Dean could reply, Tessa eased herself out of the window. The roof was slanted, but not enough to make her slide down immediately. She scooted to the edge and looked down. Three stories was a long way to fall.
"Be careful, alright? Nice and easy. I'll catch you," Dean held out his arms and squatted. Tessa took a deep, steadying breath and jumped. For a second, she felt as if she was flying, and then she hit Dean's arms, hard.
"Shit!" Tessa screamed. When she landed in Dean's arms, her hurt shoulder rocked, sending a wave of pain up her arm. She then noticed the blood on her arm, running down onto her black dress.
"Hey, are you okay?" Dean was staring at Tessa with concern. She nodded, biting her lip. Dean raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He grabbed Tessa roughly by the arm and dragged her out back, into the treeline. "What the hell happened in there? I thought I told you to stay put!" Dean growled, his faces inches away from Tessa's.
Dean couldn't help but notice how fragile and frail Tessa looked as he shouted at her. She was small and little, probably only a few inches over five foot. Dean knew, though, that inside, Tessa was strong. She'd been through as much hell as he and Sammy had, and that made a person fierce. She hadn't shrank away from his world, but embraced it. She was determined to fight, and he admired that.
"I heard something, so I went upstairs. The lights were flickering, and it was so cold, and I knew that the spirit was there. Then the woman appeared, and she threw me back against the dresser. I grabbed the poker from the fireplace and that seemed to scare her off. I broke the window," Tessa finished. Dean had only half payed attention, but he understood well enough to not press her on it.
"Come on. We need to get you back inside. I'm going to salt the rest of the house. Just do me a favor and stay inside, okay?" Dean dragged Tessa to the front door, but he was careful to not touch her injured arm. The furniture seemed to have moved itself back, and there was no sign of the spirit.
"Are you fucking kidding me Dean? I'm not just going to sit around and wait for this thing to try and kill me," Tessa snapped. She strode up to the door and went inside. Dean sighed.
"Absolutely not," he said in a clipped tone. Tessa whirled around, absolutely livid. Dean wouldn't meet her eyes; he just sidestepped her and began walking up the stairs.
"You're being ridiculous. I thought you weren't scared of this stuff," Tessa raised one dark eyebrow, clearly challenging him.
"Oh, I'm not scared, sweetheart. I just want to do my job without you getting in the way," Dean said coldly, but then he smirked, softening the statement.
"Whatever, Dean. I'm helping you, end of story," Tessa brushed past him, stalking up the staircase, a bag of salt in her hand. Dean only grinned. She was stubborn, that much was clear to him. He realized, though, as he salted the front door, he didn't really mind.