1.
It was Lauren who stood there, all covered in dirt, indeed pointing at the smoking shotgun straight toward the ghost. Panting slightly while on her left hand she next grasped a lighter from her pocket. Waving at it. Her eyebrows rose as she stared into the specter's irises, her own tense.
"Forgot something?" she quipped, her gaze never leaving the paranormal being. Sam and Dean had no clue was she actually talking to the ghost, or was she directing some form of a between the lines chaff to them, but the matter got cleared soon enough.
Lauren dropped the weapon and as if waited something, eventually squinting when seconds passed and nothing happened. But then the suddenly baffled become ghost of the girl glanced at Lauren indeed puzzled, next gazing at her hands, until the expected happened and she looked up in horrified realization. Letting out a sharp cry when her frail form suddenly caught fire, it soon consuming her and turning her into ashes, not but a second later her vanishing. All three released a relieved sigh, but now the ghost and her mental power gone, both of the guys got dropped flat back on the floor. Dean cursed due the forceful impact with concrete, but immediately his eyes sought his brother from the other side of the room.
"Sam?" he called out like before, now less panicked but nervously, standing up stiffly as walked to on the floor laying, awfully coughing Sam.
Sam felt great relief when the strangling sensation had finally faded, air flowing in his lungs freely once more. But it was precisely those breaths which caused him to cough like hell. He needed a minute to just even his breathing, the coughing as well to fade, when Dean's worried voice interrogated him.
"Hey, you okay? Sam?" the ever worrying big brother inquired, grabbing Sam's shoulders and hauled him up. Dean hit his back a couple of times, so that oxygen would flow more easily back into his system, but the effect of his gesture was contrary to his intention.
"In fact… Dean, I'd… feel… much better if… you'd just stop… causing by lungs to… collapse", Sam stammered brokenly as a response, eventually rising to his own feet too. His fingers found their way on his neck to rub it, as Dean awkwardly drew back his hands, lifting them up a little.
"Oh, right. Sorry", he said meekly, unsure. But then his rather sullen gaze hit Lauren, who'd been observing them from the same place at the doorway.
"Where the hell you've been?" he demanded in anger, striding across the floor with only a couple of steps and yanked his shotgun from the girl. She lifted a quite sullen eyebrow at him herself, when Sam only directed a quelling look toward his back.
"Dean…" he started to restrain him, knowing what was to come after living through this scene million times over, but was interrupted when Lauren let out incredulous snort.
"If your slow comprehension failed to notice, I was a little busy roasting that ghost's remains for barbecue upstairs!" she replied in irritation, folding her arms across her chest defiantly. Dean made his trademark browlifting, smiling that annoyed smile he wore always while enraged.
"Sure. And in the process you probably broke a nail too, and your lips needed an extra layer of gloss", he continued sarcastically, smirking, but the least amused Lauren now glanced on her right, seeing a certain object and smiling inwardly grasped it. Throwing that small screwdriver at him, causing him to flinch for evident pain. That hit didn't harm him, but would leave a bruise as a memento, which was exactly what she had aimed at to teach that cheeky bastard of a cousin a lesson for gibing at her. No one did that to her. Ever. She sighed deep.
"You should be the expert Dean!" she retorted, her dark brows drawn into a line. "Who'd you think just pulled your asses out of the fire besides me? Or did you believe she just simply burst into flames for having the hots for you? That'd be very probable when it comes to a dolt like you… Anyway, while you boys were playing CSI down 'ere, I sought the body of that poor girl and burnt it. Taking care of the problem, without a single broken nail, or a tube of lip gloss needed."
On face Sam's spread understanding, where Dean seemed to have clear difficulties to swallow the same standard of jeering as his from this younger cousin of his.
"Actually princess, I was quite sure about that", he responded, flashing that same cheeky grin to her. "I've always had that effect on women."
Lauren gazed at him totally bored, next rolling her eyes, as then ignored his glitch of personality what she liked to call idiocy. "Whatever… But by the way Dean, I wouldn't recommend for you to use that shotgun anymore. I think it's starting to…"
Lauren was interrupted by a startling bang, all three now gawking at the hole which had formed above Dean's head when the said weapon had fired by itself. Lauren could swear she saw Dean's complexion turn paler, when he directed slightly cautious look at the shotgun in his hand. But soon the as well thin, pierced roof started to whine and creak, finally tearing off, and without a warning part of the upstairs living-room collapsed headlong upon Dean.
Lauren and Sam had just in time hurried for safety to the background, crouching a little for each other's protection, until then the danger was over and they started to eye at Dean's upper torso. Sticking out of a pile of snapped, broken boards and pieces of rooftop, his expression blank and his eyes wide. He too then scanned the late roof on top of himself expressionless, when Lauren then finished her earlier sentence, stepping forth.
"I was going to say the shotgun might need some maintenance", she told him, after all then holding back a gale. Dean's face was worth of seeing, and even it was very close he didn't die, his perplexed demeanor created great amusement in her. But obviously the source of the said entertainment did not agree, and next glaring kicked all the wood and other matter off himself, standing. He was all covered in dust, and annoyed frown causing his brows to drawn into a line he now whisked it away from his shirt, the least cheery.
"And you couldn't tell me that before I nearly got pancaked?" he queried, riled, his face after all still holding that stupefied expression regardless of his ire, as he pulled down his shirt. Sam was gazing at him as well dumbfounded, but still having a trace of smile on his lips.
"How many times are you trying to get me killed today?" Dean mumbled to himself, then starting to dig out the hazardous shotgun from the shambles.
"You should be only thankful that I was unsuccessful, as only a rafter to the right, and an armchair would've fallen on your head", Lauren answered nonchalantly. Sam couldn't hold it any longer but started to laugh, either Lauren not being able to deter herself from snickering after all. Dean looked only sour.
"Very funny you two", Dean said, sneering at his two companions. "I'd laugh too, if I wouldn't be aware of the fact how close I was to become best buds with Wile. E Coyote."
Lauren's brows rose, until she then put her lighter back into her pocket and turned, about to leave. "I'll wait at the car", she told them, having enough of teasing Dean. This time. And even the brothers turned to give her a look, they didn't see her go to the door when she was already gone. Them next hearing the creak of the cellar door at the first floor, it then closing with same kind of creak a second after. But Sam then let out a laugh.
"What?" Dean asked while was fiddling the jammed insides of the gun's mechanism. Sam only made a slight pout, which still reminded of a smirk, shaking his head once.
"Nothing", he replied, amused. And next also he sought his weapon with his gaze, finding it quickly under a certain metal closet and retrieved it, before checked its condition.
"That bitch broke my shotgun", Dean remarked in irritation, by which he actually meant the ghost, not their cousin.
"Mine is fine", Sam announced. He loaded the weapon, and it let out a happy clicking sound when the gun's glider slid in place. The now obvious grin inhabiting his lips annoyed Dean.
"I still have one shot left", he mentioned, swinging the shotgun a little while smiled to his little brother sweetly. Not. "Don't make me go all Johnny Depp on you."
"Alright, alright!" Sam hurried to say, as well his eyebrows rising. "Just cool man, don't blow your skirt."
Dean's hand stopped in middle of a movement, him directing a subtle glower toward Sam, nodding. "Shall I shoot you, or finish the job with that rope?" he asked, turning around to face Sam, looking questionable. But anyone could see how pissed he was. And that only made his brother release another laugh, noting his teasing to have had an effect.
"Okay, fine. Sorry Dean… But it just amuses me that a girl a couple of years of your junior defeats you in your beloved sport of sophistry."
Dean froze, like always when it ticked him off to be left speechless, unable to come up with a striking comeback. And now only his eyebrows rose in turn, his lips pursing. Sam enjoyed his expression and laughed at his brother inwardly, taking in this rare sight with all its uniqueness.
Eventually ignoring Sam's obnoxious stare, Dean then put on his jacket. But due the fast movement a huge cloud of dust spew in the air from it, the tiny motes staying dancing around his head as if taunting him, gauging his patience. He glowered at the ceiling a second or two.
"Right, shall we blow this joint?" he inquired, feigning a smile. But it was more of a statement, to prevent Sam from spouting out any more of his own pedant remarks.
Dean threw the shotgun on top of his workout bag quite carelessly, which still rested on its own place on the floor. He deemed the weapon to be completely broken, so didn't pay much attention to his manner of handling the damaged gun. Not before the moment it once again fired by itself, immediately after hitting the floor, the shot passing not but an inch away from his toes. Eventually sinking into an old washing machine in the corner.
"Dude, you couldn't be any more embarrassing", indeed Sam's rather cheeky voice stated, accompanied by a new laugh before he then followed Lauren's example by going through the door to the stairs, before Dean. Where the older brother now took a very careful hold of the weapon, lifting it and the bag from the floor, scowling.
"You're one to talk. Ghost or not, you almost let a girl kick your ass", he mumbled, to himself of course as then did also leave, tailing Sam back to upstairs where they had descended about half an hour before.
It had already darkened outside when Sam and Dean stepped out of the abandoned house, being able to detect the shimmer of the pyre Lauren had set ablaze behind it. Lauren herself was as said waiting for them, sitting at the back seat of Dean's Impala smoking, her legs crossed. And when her gaze now saw their familiar forms walk out of the front door, she took one more inhale from her cigarette until threw it on the ground. Using her hand to clear the smoke as put out the butt with her shoe. Dean's eyes widened for horror when he witnessed Lauren release some bitter smoke into the car, not as her intention, as she after all could not control the wind. But he wasn't given a chance to make a scene as she then spoke, nodding toward the cellar.
"Did something happen? I heard your gun go off", she called out questionably. Her eyebrows rising in question too, as her eyes scanned both of her cousins in turns. And because of that could not but note that amusement next take over Sam's features, where Dean only looked away rather bummed. They reached the car in silence, Lauren's gaze following them as she leant on her knee.
"Nothing, nothing", finally Dean did respond. But the way he avoided eye-contact with her and said the answer indeed rather bored made her believe otherwise. And it was Sam who confirmed her suspicions, smirking while leant on the ceiling of the car, exchanging a quick glance with her.
"Dean is just having his manliness afflicted", he told her, inclining his head while gazed at his brother over the car. Dean dismissed his such what else than tantalizing look and went to the trunk, opened it and dropped his bag among all other weapons. Noting that the demon's trap at the hood had some abrasions and needed to be painted again soon.
"Shut your cakehole Sammy, or it's Lauren who's taking the front seat", he replied simply. But then his expression turned quite cheery regardless of the irritation still present in him. "And now…" he slammed the trunk shut. "…I think I want some Chinese. And pie."
The reason for the change in Dean's mood now resolved, the other two just lifted their eyebrows when the said brother flounced over to the driver's seat, whistling. Lauren shut the back door and let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at Sam, who smiled at her when she took a cozy position on her seat. Finally also Dean was in the car and he took out the keys, pushing them into the lock until then he froze, turning his head a little as thought about something, examining his surroundings. But soon Sam saw him wrinkle his nose for distaste.
"The cigarette smell will never leave from these seats", he remarked, his voice's devastated tone exaggerated, this way earning another eye-roll from his cousin as met her gaze through the front mirror. Dean directed brief judgmental stare into her irises, until started the engine and drove the car out of the house's yard to the driveway. And not long after the black Chevy Impala sped along the highway, old Metallica tape roaring in the radio in full volume.
They had gotten a room from a nearby Red Sky motel, and it hadn't been hard. Because only one look at the parking-lot of the said establishment told them there weren't many guests staying there that night besides them. So Dean either had no difficulties obtaining a parking space when he drove the car before the said motel, half broken red neon sign saluting them from the wall, blinking "vacancies" all the time less brightly.
"Finally!" Lauren exclaimed after stepping inside their motel room, sighing. "I cannot even recall when was the last time I got enough sleep…"
Lauren threw her cellphone on the table, followed by the lighter, while Sam removed his jacket and received a beer bottle Dean tossed to him from the fridge. Dean opened his own as pushed the door shut, Lauren sending him an inquiring gaze.
"I can't get one?" she asked, smiling at him radiantly while leant on the table's edge. Dean tilted his head while made a pout, lifting the bottle.
"No alcohol for rookies", was his nonchalant response, taking a swig. "Technically, you're still a minor."
Lauren released a laugh due the sound of this. "Technically I already am pretty much a grown up, but whatevs. You boys order something in, as I, for one am going to take a long shower."
As well Lauren took off her leather jacket, and then it was proven she really was in need of a shower. Sam followed as many grains of soil rained down on the floor from her clothes, creating a pattering sound, as in her galore hair she had twice the amount of dirt. And a moment later she had quite a remarkable mound of earth at her feet when she finally stopped raking and shaking her locks. Neither of the guys asked where she had gotten drenched with all that smutch, but now Dean gave a bored browlifting to the girl.
"It's just soil, princess", he did then remark, in the end smiling again in that cheeky manner as sat down on the bed he'd reserved to himself, Lauren's eyes narrowing as their short exchange of looks lasted.
"Well, you guys might not pay that much heed to matters like hygiene, but I'm not that blind nor oblivious", Lauren said back, then nodding toward the miscellaneous pile of laundry at the corner of the room. Sam and Dean glanced at each other remarkably, their bottles stuck to their lips in middle of their intention to drink, when Lauren continued.
"And we've been on the road three days in a row! Also, as when we finally arrived here and I didn't have the chance to perform any of my normal daily mannerisms, because you kept on dragging me all over town to secure your rears and in the end saving your asses, now, only things I need are shower, food and bed to slump into when this fricking day is finally over", she finished, removing her boots.
"You are right about that sleeping part", Dean admitted. "You might've lost a little of your beauty these last days…"
Lauren stared at Dean's smirking face, one eyebrow tiredly quirked, until after a moment made a laugh, returning the grin as wide. "Actually, beauty sleep wouldn't be wasted on your either Dean. Like I said before, your face had quite a explosive impact to that ghost. And above all, you look death tired yourself."
Sam started to laugh as the bickering pair stared at each other. Lauren was a good verbal adversary when she was in the mood, and once again Dean's expression was very enjoyable to both her and Sam. Lauren flashed one more smile to his stupefied demeanor, until turned on her heels and dropped her clothes to the couch, the shoes ending up discarded on the floor next to it. And she next caused her cousins to experience another short moment of discomfort and embarrassment, when in her usual nonchalant manner she yanked her shirt right off before even reached the bathroom door, walking to it only half dressed. Revealing her bare back which was more or less covered with different tattoos, one to prevent demonic possession like the guys had, and many more the brothers had no clue what they meant. But a second later the guys heard the click of the bathroom door which told them they were free to let their eyes wander again. Truly, Lauren had been with them quite long now, but they still found it hard sometimes to accept her such rash, impulsive behavior. She sure had changed from before…
Despite of the moment of awkwardness, Sam spent another short moment laughing by himself, examining the expression of Dean's he used to have in these situations. When he was left second place, which was like said, priceless to the little brother to see. He noticed clear tension around Dean's forehead area… And now he made the distinctive pout like smile, directing a questionable look at Dean.
"That's it? No cheeky comeback, no any pointed comment?" Sam inquired. Dean glanced back at him.
"I won't fight with teenagers", he replied. "Not my thing to parent those bastards."
Dean plopped on the bed stretched out, placing his other arm under his head until closed his eyes. Lauren had been right about one thing. He was death tired…
"Okay…" Sam said as a response, in consent, but after all shook his head slightly while took a nip from his drink. But then Dean's head rose.
"Hey", he called out, looking at Sam remarkably. "Get us some chow, will ya?"
Sam stared at Dean, frowning a little. "The ghost smashed my phone. With what you expect me to…" he started, but then got surprised as Dean's phone all of a sudden flew through the air, interrupting him, and he barely caught it before also it got trashed while hitting the floor.
"Use that", was Dean's lazy reply from his spot, and then his eyes closed once more. But then he remembered something. "And get some pie!" he added, once more that too cheery expression returning briefly on his face before slumped back down. Sam looked at him incredulous.
"I don't think they sell pie in a Chinese restaurant Dean", he surmised the obvious, frowning, but Dean didn't seem to care nor see the illogicality in his request. Just stayed still his eyes closed, not moving a single muscle for several minutes. So Sam couldn't help arguing but just fetch a catalog from the table with a sigh, calling to the "Three Chickens" named Chinese restaurant he managed to find amidst the pages. He had no clue what Lauren desired for dinner, but deemed her not to be that delighted if he'd go over peeking into the bathroom to ask her order. So he chose the same portion for her as for himself.
Their food took 20 minutes to arrive, and it was Sam who had to pay to the deliveryman, as regardless of the fact that his bed was the one closest to the door, Dean pretended to be asleep. But immediately after Sam had received their portions and shut the door, Dean bounced up and on his feet. Rubbing his hands together as his stomach made the familiar growl of hunger.
"Mealtime", he stated, clearly satisfied. Dean took a hold of what he assumed as his portion and lifted it out of the bag, starting to open it and peeked inside, noting it to be after all wrong one. He grasped another box, but then realized one item was missing. Again.
"Where's my pie?" he asked, giving Sam a questionable look, which he returned only bored. Sam inclined his head.
"Dude, I told you. They don't sell pie in a Chinese restaurant, as you know very well. All they had was some… wontons, and I reckoned you not to be that into them."
Dean was silent for a moment until nodded curtly, putting away the plastic bag he had lifted. "Good thinking."
He once more resumed to open his dinner box, now directing a look toward the bathroom door in the process. "Lucky for that girl, water bill is included into the rent of this room. Otherwise she would've already spent every dime in our new account", he remarked, taking the chopsticks into his hand as smelled his food, wide smile spreading on his lips. Sam lifted his eyebrows.
"You must mean Mr. Stevenson's account", he revised. It was Dean's turn to lift his brows in indifferent manner, turning his attention back to the food.
"Beijing's hot Chicken stew", he said simply and took another whiff of the spicy portion. "Sweet."
Dean strode back to his bed and sat down. Starting to consume the Chinese cuisine so fast that it seemed to Sam as if his brother hadn't had anything to eat for weeks, him gobbling down the food as quickly as it was possible with chopsticks. Actually Sam gave him some form of a credit for such an act. Well, typical Dean. He was always like that when he ate… Sam sighed, opening his own portion's box.
After all he didn't start to eat, but stood before the sink for a while. Dean took a notice of him as saw him touch his neck, where bruises resembling the rope had started to appear.
"You sure you're ok?" Dean asked, his mouth half full of food. Sam gasped awake from his reverie, lifting his gaze from the carpet's old sauce stain to Dean.
"Yeah, I think so. My neck's just a little sore, that's all", he told him, dropping his hand. Dean nodded, but then continued.
"What was going on with you back there? You let that ghost come at you fully."
Sam turned pondering as sat down with his steaming box of food. Staring to the ceiling, until finally responded. "I don't know, Dean. I guess I… felt too sorry for that girl", was his pensive answer. Dean let out a snort.
"Well, I pity her not a bit. She got what was coming to her, if you ask me."
"Maybe so, but it wasn't her fault Dean", Sam protested. "She was just a young girl…"
"Precisely. She was. She was dead, so she didn't exactly have the right to poke around people's lives", Dean countered, then snorting again, until stuffed some more food into his mouth. "Or wives."
Sam realized Dean's tacky reference. The first person who'd become Emma's victim had been Trevor's current wife, Annabelle. But still he did not totally agree with Dean in this one.
"Dean, Emma was innocent", he insisted, turning to his brother. He looked back at him eyebrows raised.
"Emma? So what, now we're speaking on terms with monsters? …You've turned soft."
"Maybe so, but listen… I know that what Emma did wasn't all that good, but she herself was. People's actions don't always speak for themselves."
"Well, she cannot actually be included into the group "people" now can she?" Dean remarked rather sourly, Sam blinking for surprise even he then fathomed it to be true. "Whatever man. She is dead Sam. And what is dead stays dead."
Sam heard him, but as then continued himself he had quite confident look on his face. He'd had time to ponder about this more than he maybe should've. "Think about it Dean", he dared after all, causing Dean to look to the ceiling due frustration. He drank some ale as almost let Sam's words enter through one ear and then exit out of the other.
"She did those murders just because she was sad herself. Betrayed. The way she died was unforgivable… That jerk who did her in deserved to die…"
"But that still didn't give her the right to do Sweeney Todds to those people", Dean replied indifferent. "Pity her all you want, but it's been proven that eye for an eye tactic never works. At least when it came to her, as she got her insides torched. Karma's a bitch."
Sam listened Dean's argument in disbelief himself. It was sometimes challenging for him to believe that this "strictly business", cold-blooded hunter was his brother.
"I admit, she shouldn't have killed all those innocent people… But Trevor had it coming. Like you said, and have you forgotten how we ended up to this situation? Trevor murdered her, Dean. And then continued his life, married, letting her memory to fade into oblivion as if she never existed. I now she isn't fully innocent… But I won't blame her completely either."
Dean stayed silent. He played around with the food, the chopsticks moving it around as his eyes turned to observe Sam from time to time. He truly had thought about this case more than was necessary, in Dean's opinion. Well, it had always been one of his faults… Being too emphatic. Though Dean couldn't deny that there had been some kind of a point in his argument. Anyway, Dean saw from Sam's expression that this "Emma" ghost had gotten him suddenly upset. Big time. And he now followed as Sam's eyes fell back on the floor.
"It must've been horrible", he mused after a moment of silence. He stared at the worn out places of his jeans in some kind of a daze. " I cannot even imagine how it must've felt like. To notice a person you love, to whom you trust more than anyone, to whom you believe in more than anyone, not to be someone you thought before. When Trevor after all those lies broke Emma's trust by taking advantage of her, and in the end by torturing her both mentally and physically before finally murdering her… I just cannot understand how it can be possible that while all that evil we hunt is out there, still such sick bastards like Trevor can already be found simply among humans…"
"I can."
Thanks for reading!