I didn't think I needed you
But I need you now
Was so empty in me
To feel you crashing down
Into the empty world
The music stops
I want to rescue want to scream out loud
You will always be mine
ROADKILL
Bobby's House
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
I was fingering my rosary; it'd been a long time since I'd prayed for anything. I struggled to find the words, to see a greater good in anything. I found myself standing in front of the little garden Bobby had allowed me to set up a long time ago, tucked behind the gym. With my angel obsession I collected angel statues, big and small, all over the countryside. They all found their way here eventually, to my angel shrine.
A multitude of faces stared up at me and I hated each and every one of them. The babies I hated the most, all the little cherubs smiling at me. I shifted the club from my left to right hand, spinning it a couple of times like it was a baton. We'd used them as teenagers when John had decided we needed to learn to fight with a machete. Now we used the real thing and these gathered dust in the tired old garage which doubled as a gym and workout area.
I sized up one of the bigger cherubs, I'd found it on a hunt down in Texas for a revenant and Dean had given me a hard time all the way home for bringing it with us. I twisted my grip around the handle of the club, hesitating, then it all flashed back to me, the blood, the lights, the excruciating pain – it drove me to a dark place which blanketed me, making it hard to breathe. I fell into the black, and with it smashed the club down on the cherub, taking its head off.
The abyss consumed me, like being sucked into a spillway, the water rushing overhead and pulling me under. Their faces all stared, promises of protection just empty words. Swinging randomly, I broke them all, destroying them piece by piece. All that remained was a reminder of how broken I should feel inside.
I hit the ground, the solid dirt at my knees pulling me back into my body. I wanted to cry, but soundless screams stayed locked in my throat. I was prostrated before a broken shrine, my forehead pushed to the ground, the cold damp seeping into my brain.
"Beth!" Sam knelt beside me, and when I didn't move he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to my feet. I resisted with a groan, sucking in a mouthful of air as he led me away from the scene of the destruction.
"Let me go!" I whimpered. He hesitated, and I stomped down on his foot and pulled forward, breaking his grip, turning on him with a wide punch. He blocked it easily, and lashed out at him with a kick to the shin in its place. It connected and I heard the sharply expelled breath come from his mouth.
We tussled, Sam moving in closer to get at my arms, me throwing punches to his stomach, his chest, beating against him in sheer desperation to feel anything. He held me tight as I struggled against him, pinned to his chest; I pushed and pushed until I felt the fight go out of me, slumping against him and letting the tears fall.
"Oh Beth," Sam whispered, holding on to me. He lifted me in his arms and carried me away from the angel garden which lay in ruin. There was a couch inside the gym, I hadn't been anywhere near it in a month, but he took me there now, placing me down on the cushions and sitting next to me, peering at me with those big brown puppy dog eyes.
I drew my right knee up to my chest and gripped it tightly, resting my hand and chin on it while I brushed at the tears furiously.
"You can't keep going like this." Sam said to me, tears in his eyes.
I leaned my head against my knee, staring out the open side of the gym toward the woods beyond. The trees blurred, and further still there were mountains and I just wanted to run.
"I can't even look at you Sam," I whispered.
"I know," he said sadly with a sigh.
"I just want Dad," I said, tears coming fresh into my eyes. "You know, he always knew what to do...he'd know what to say..."
"He wouldn't say anything more than what any of us have already said to you Beth," Sam said to me. "You just need time."
"I don't want time!" I said quietly, squeezing my eyes tight, fighting back the tears.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, frowning.
"I mean, we've always just worked the job, pushed through the pain," I said. Sitting back against the armrest I forced myself to look at Sam, to see the care and love that sat there in his eyes, and the guilt, the quiet desperation behind it all that told me he was struggling just as much as I was.
"I don't know how to deal with this any other way... I thought maybe you guys were right, I just needed time. But now I don't know." I said numbly. I'd stopped feeling anything when we arrived here, slowly the cold had been clutching at my heart.
Sam frowned, not understanding. "Is Dean pushing you?" He asked.
"No!" I said, shaking my head quickly. "No, he's... not pushed me at all. Maybe that's half the problem, he's nothing like himself, he keeps telling me to take as long as I need, in everything and I just…it's just not him Sam. It's not Dean. It's not the way we were raised; it's not the way we were trained."
"Beth, Dean loves you," Sam stated and I smiled, looking down at my hands.
"I know that," I said quietly. I ran my hands through my hair, letting out a shaky breath.
"But I'm not the same person I was, I can't give him what he needs." I said, somehow putting into words what I'd been feeling all these weeks.
"He won't leave you Beth," Sam said with a frown.
"Everyone leaves me Sam, eventually." I said, putting my head back on my knee.
Sam stared at me for a while, speechless. I sighed and stood up from the couch, going over to one of the cupboards in the shed, pulling out some sparring pads. I tossed them to Sam. "Get up," I ordered him.
He smirked and got to his feet, slipping the pads over his wrists and holding them up. I bounced in place, getting my balance, loosening my joints and then started with a long range round house kick, hitting the pad with as much force as I could. I stepped back and repeated, switching legs after each round of kicks.
Eventually I moved into throwing some punches, circling Sam and beating at the pads, pushing him around the room. He was strong enough to take it, and I had a lot of anger, so I didn't hold back. I threw in a combination kick and double punch, dancing around him.
I felt that familiar calm come over me, and I sank into my kill zone, focused on those pads, on Sam. Kick after punch, a flurry of muscle and bone pounding into the target. I lost all sight of anything outside of myself until I heard a crunching sound, and looked up to see that Sam had hit a wall, the pads having long been discarded. I was pounding him in the ribs, and he wasn't even trying to defend himself. This made me even angrier, that he would stand there and take it, but there was a punishing look in his eyes; self-punishment, as if I had a right to beat the shit out of him. I was so angry at him, after all we'd sacrificed for him, that I went to punch him in the face.
My arm snapped to stillness, a hand clasping around my wrist and pulling me away from Sam.
"Why don't you pick on someone who'll fight back?" Dean said to me, eye to eye. There was a quiet calm underneath those hazel eyes, assessing me. Bobby moved to help Sam up from the wall, pulling his arm around his neck and half carrying him from the room.
I shoved Dean away from me and tilted my head at him, he put up his fists and then beckoned with one hand for me to attack. I raised an eyebrow and sank back into my hand-to-hand combat training. I threw a right punch at Dean and he blocked it left-handed, my left hand jab was intercepted by his right hand and he brought his left hand round to backhand me across the cheek – the sting was sharp and I hissed in response.
I slunk back, assessing him. He'd actually hit me, we hadn't sparred like that in years. Good. I smirked, and prowled around, looking for a way in to him. He tossed a right-hander at me and I blocked it, grasping his wrist with my left hand and twisting it, as I turned sideways, bringing my right elbow up to connect with his ribs. He growled and broke the hold I had on his wrist, taking mine up instead, and kneeing me in the stomach, winding me.
Dean pushed me to the training mat and I rolled over, coughing, but relatively unharmed, he hadn't meant to hurt me or I'd be on the ground out cold. I climbed to my feet, and attacked again with a steady round of hits and kicks, each one met by him – he knew me, and my style, hell he was the one who had trained me – I didn't really have a hope of beating him, but it felt good trying.
"This is what you want, huh?" Dean asked, starting to breathe a little faster, eyes glaring. "You want to hurt?"
He feinted left, before spinning around to land an open-handed hit to my side, I flinched and pulled back. Watching him, waiting.
"Better than feeling nothing at all," I said to him quietly.
"Cherry-pie, if I thought you were feeling nothing at all, we'd be having a whole different conversation right now." Dean said, shaking his head at me.
I moved quickly, bringing my left foot in to connect with his inner left ankle, throwing him off balance and simultaneously throwing a right jab to his kidney. He hissed and hopped around to face me.
Dean swung at me from the left, and I blocked the punch, leaning into it, turning my body side on and slapping him with my left hand before turning my right to smack him across the jaw. He took it and shoved me back from him, and I hit the wall – physically and mentally, slumping to the ground and breathing heavily.
"You know I've been spending these last few days trying to figure out what I can do to get through to you," Dean said to me, advancing on my position. He grabbed me effortlessly by the arms, hauling me to my feet and then pushing me against the wall again.
"I just don't know what you want Beth, I mean, do you want a drill sargeant? Do you want to be pulled out of bed and forced to fight until your body aches and you feel numb?" He looked conflicted, holding me tight. I dared not even move, even if I could have.
"Yeah, yeah I do," I said to him, challenging.
He growled in frustration, hitting the wall behind me. "No you don't!" He said hoarsely. "You don't remember what it was like, pulling you out of bed every damn morning, forcing you to go to a place you never wanted to go – to become a warrior you were never meant to be – it was wrong Beth, and Dad never should have done it. It broke something inside of you, and I thought you might never get over it." I swallowed, and he glared at me, angry.
His eyes softened the longer he looked at me. "But you did, somehow, I don't know how. You came back into the light, and be damned if I'm going to see you throw that away."
"You can't help me with this Dean, no one can," I said, chewing on my lip – I was lying, he'd been the only one who helped me last time, but he didn't know that and I didn't want the help this time, I wanted to hurt.
Dean took a deep breath, there was an anguish deep under those eyes, fuelled by a simmering rage.
"You want to feel something?" He asked, frowning at me. I nodded, tears in my eyes.
He let out a deep sigh and pushed me back against the wall, pinning me there, bringing his lips to mine and forcing his tongue in to do a fierce and fiery battle with my own.
I reached up to slide my hands over his shoulders, pulling him in to me. Quiet confident hands slid up my sides, under my sweat-soaked t-shirt, as he pulled me in against him, one hand holding me firmly at my lower back, one pinned behind my neck. He kissed me hotly along my jawline, nipping and drawing a gasp from me.
He grunted approval at the sound and rammed me hard against the wall, gaining another gasp. Within seconds he had me panting against him, he lifted me up and I obligingly wrapped my legs around his waist. He rocked into me a few times, I felt his hard pulsing arousal there. I gulped for a moment, uncertain of where he was going.
"Wait..." I said, but he ignored me, holding one hand firmly under my buttocks and against the wall. A hand slid between us and pushed inside my pants, exposing me to him, wide open with my legs wrapped around him.
I started to panic, just a little, startling out of the rage-filled space I'd been in. "You want to feel something, I can give you something to feel Beth," he said with a hint of anger and frustration. His fingers flicked across my clit, I shuddered, losing focus until I felt him start to press a finger inside of me.
"Dean, stop." I said, slightly panicked. "Don't." I wasn't ready, I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to.
I was scared to know how it would feel, scared anything would hurt after all the butchering that had happened down there to stop me from bleeding to death. The stitches in my cervix had healed, but the scars... they would take a lot longer.
I felt him slide in a second finger, just partly and my breath caught.
"Stop... stop, stop, stop..." I said, gasping, pulling back and throwing a frightened look at him.
He froze, watching me, waiting for something. I don't know what he saw, but it changed his attitude in a moment. He sighed and his hand moved out from between us, allowing that barrier of my pants to separate us again. He moved us to the couch, perching on the armrest as he kept me in his lap, my legs still wrapped firmly around his waist.
Both hands travelled up to grasp my face, his thumbs brushing across my cheeks, his fingers tangling in my hair as he looked at me.
"I'm not going to make you feel through pain Beth, I'm not Dad, I can't drill this into you through brute force." He kissed me again, this time it was firm, but without the anger. I felt myself yield to him, kissing him back with a hungry passion.
I smiled when he pulled me back to look at me. His hand tugged a little at my hair as he pulled away and I sighed, a small moan escaping my lips. He looked surprised when I closed my eyes and leaned into that seemingly insignificant thing. It felt good.
"Do that again..." I whispered, and felt his hand wrap around the base of my skull, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging at it with a sharp pull. It was almost like he was kneading my hair; running his fingers through the longer parts, pulling firmly on it as he got to the ends. I let me head go limp, swaying to the whatever direction he pulled, completely surrendering to his touch, just enough to cause a sensation, not enough to bring pain. I moaned softly, licking my lips and he yanked my head gently back to expose my neck to his mouth, sucking on it, and when I groaned, he nipped at the skin, a sharp, intense feeling spreading down my body.
"We're going away for a few days, just you and me." He said decisively his breath hot on my skin.
"Where?" I asked, still lost in the sensations of my body reacting to him.
"A job, Nevada." He said, nipping again at my jaw, pressing his teeth against the bone, the sharp sensation drew another contented sigh from me. He smoothed the nip over with a couple of kisses as he pulled back slightly to look at me.
"So no more pussy-footing around you." Dean said. "You get up and you fight, you give it all that you've got because I am not going to lose you to despair. I want you with me." I nodded and wrapped my arms around him pulling him close.
"I love you," I whispered into his neck, kissing him lightly as I started to feel a little sleepy, emotionally drained from the last hour.
Highway 41
Nevada
We'd been driving along the highway for a good couple of hours. I sighed, looking out at the trees rushing by, lit up only by the headlights of the Impala. It was the wee hours of morning, long before dawn and we'd been on the road since midnight, working the job. I turned to Dean, he was quiet and contemplative in the driver's seat, not having said much recently.
"Maybe we have the wrong day," I said, chewing on my lip.
"Nope, all the reports definitely say today." He disagreed, shaking his head.
I sighed, and leaned back in the seat. This was taking forever. Who ever heard of a tardy ghost?
"Well maybe he hasn't found the victim yet." I said, giving it all some thought. It wasn't exactly a complicated annual ghost story, girl's car breaks down, man tries to kill her, man ends up being a violent ghost. Yeah, nothing to it.
"Maybe we have the wrong road, you checked the map again?" Dean asked, looking over at me.
"We're not on the wrong road Dean, I know how to read a map!" I countered, giving him an angry look. Being cooped up in the car together was starting to take its toll, even without Sam here.
"Well I'm just saying, maybe we took a turn we shouldn't have," Dean muttered, looking back to the road.
"Are you questioning my ability to do the job?" I asked sharply, glaring at him. "Because it was your idea to come out here alone and..." I never finished.
Dean hit the breaks hard, and I looked up just in time to see a bedraggled woman standing in the middle of the road. "Holy!" He exclaimed, gripping the wheel until he was white-knuckled.
"You've got to help me!" The girl cried out desperately, coming around to my side of the car and pounding on the window. I rolled it down and she pleaded with us. "Please! Please!"
"All right, all right," I said as evenly as I could. "Calm down, tell us what happened."
She pulled away from the car, pacing back and forth along the road. Dean pulled off to the side in case any other traffic came, and then we got out to speak with the girl. I sat cross-legged on the hood, watching her.
"I – I swerved, and we crashed. And when I came to, the car was wrecked and my husband was missing." Molly said distressed – she looked like she'd just gone a couple of rounds with a wild grizzly bear, her medium length brown hair was messed up and tangled, her clothing torn from running into tree branches.
"I went looking for him, but that's when the man from the road, he – started chasing me." Molly continued with her story.
"Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?" Dean asked calmly and I shook my head imperceptively at him – we weren't supposed to know what he looked like!
"How did you know that?" Molly asked breathlessly, looking at him.
Dean shrugged, realising his mistake. "Lucky guess." He answered with a grin.
"What's your name?" I asked the girl, and she stopped pacing to look at us.
"Molly. Molly McNamara." She answered. I looked at Dean and he nodded slightly. We needed to get her out of here.
"Well, Molly, I'm Beth, this is Dean. I think maybe you should come with us. We'll take you back into town." I unfolded my legs and slid down the hood to land on the ground.
"I can't. I have to find David. He might have gone back to the car," she said, shaking her head and looking around the dark woods.
"We should get you somewhere safe first," Dean said, looking at her. "Then I'll come back and look for your husband."
"No. I'm not leaving here without him." She said stubbornly, tears welling in her eyes. "Would you just take me back to my car, please?" Molly asked quietly. Dean and I exchanged another look and I sighed. They never make it easy.
"Of course." I said to her quietly. "Come on." I opened the back seat door and held it open for her. After a moments hesitation she climbed in behind me, and sat forward to direct Dean on where to go. It didn't take us long to reach the place. We exited the car and made our way into the woods, Molly leading us. Snow blanketed the ground around us, it was the end of winter so it was starting to melt, leaving us a muddy terrain to contend with.
"It's right over there," Molly said, pointing down an embankment. Dean shone a flashlight down where she pointed. There was nothing there. Molly froze when she didn't see the car she'd been talking about. "I don't understand. I'm sure this is where it was. W-we hit that tree right there. This...this doesn't make any sense." She moved down the embankment to look at the tree, lost in her own world.
I shone my own flashlight around anxiously and looked Dean in the eyes. "Dean, we have to get her out of here. Greeley could show up at any second." I said to him, biting my lower lip at the thought.
"What you gonna tell her?" Dean asked with the same look he always gave me or Sam when we had stupid ideas.
"The truth?" I suggested to which he smirked.
"She's gonna take off running in the other direction," Dean answered, falling quiet as Molly turned to us from the bottom of the embankment, looking up.
"I know it sounds crazy, but I crashed into that tree. I don't know who could've taken it. It was totaled. Please. You have to believe me," she looked desperately at us with the look of a frightened rabbit.
"Molly, listen, we do believe you all right? But that's why we want to get you out of here," I said to her, glancing around in to the shadows. Nothing worse than waiting around for a homicidal ghost to show up.
"What about David?" Molly asked, looking worried. "Something must have happened. I have to get to the cops." She started toward the car and Dean latched on to that idea like it was gold.
"Cops... that's a great idea." Dean said, latching on to it like a life raft. "We'll take you down to the station ourselves. So just come with us. It's the best way we can help you and your husband." He said, nodding to me.
"Ok..."Molly agreed with a nod.
Within minutes we were back on the road, Molly resuming her position in the back seat.
"We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe," she said quietly, sounding sad.
"You and David?" I asked, turning around to look at her.
Molly nodded with a small smile. "It's our five-year anniversary," she said to us.
Dean looked over at me, a knowing look in his eyes. "Hell of an anniversary," he muttered, turning back to the road. I had to agree.
Molly shook her head, and gave a little eye roll. "Right before, we were having the dumbest fight. It was the only time we ever really argued... when we were stuck in the car."
"Yeah, I know how that goes," I said quietly, glancing over at Dean. Suddenly, given the situation at hand, it seemed silly for us to be fighting over something as trivial as our location on a map, or one's ability to find said location. Dean gave me a similar look before turning back to the road.
"You know the last thing I said to him? I called him a jerk. Oh, god! What if that's the last thing I said to him?" She asked, she stifled a sob with a hand to her mouth, eyes starting to pool with tears.
"Molly..." I said, turning to face her. "We're going to figure out what happened to your husband. I promise."
There was a sizzling pop noise from the radio as it came quietly to life playing House of the Rising Sun. Dean frowned at it and looked over at me.
"Did you?" He asked.
I shook my head, "No." We both swallowed hard, looking around nervously.
"I was afraid you'd say that," Dean muttered, his eyes now peeled to the road ahead of us.
"This song," Molly said sitting forward. "It was playing when we crashed."
The radio crackled again, turning to static. A creepy voice could suddenly be heard. She's mine. She's mine. She's mine.
"What is that?" Molly asked of the words repeating over the radio. I looked at Dean and we both shared a moment of displeasure at the words. Our resident ghost, Greeley suddenly appeared before us in the middle of the road looking beat to hell, I grimaced when I saw the mutilated condition he appeared to us in, his intestines hanging from a fatal wound in his stomach.
"Hold on," Dean said and hit the gas pedal, the Impala lurched forward toward the figure.
"What are you doing?!" Molly cried out in panic. Dean didn't answer, simply drove straight through the figure who vanished into a cloud of smoke as soon as we made impact. Molly's breathing was coming ragged and short, and she looked around to see that there was no one in the road.
"What the... what the hell just happened?" She asked, turning back to with a shocked expression.
"Don't worry Molly. Everything's going to be all right," I said to her, looking at the road. Dean was checking the rearview mirror every five seconds, chewing on his lower lip. As if on cue, because nothing ever is that simple when it comes to our lives, the Impala started to shudder and the engine cut.
"Spoke a little too soon, Bethie," Dean said to me with a grimace. He steered the car to the side of the road as it coasted to a stop. The engine spluttered and refused to turn over as Dean tried again and again to get the Impala started again. "I don't think he's going to let her leave," he said finally, turning to look at the frightened girl in the back seat.
We got out of the car, Dean heading straight for the trunk and unlocking it.
"This can't be happening," Molly said, getting out and shutting the car door behind her.
"Well," Dean said, opening the trunk. "Trust me, it's happening." He opened the hidden arsenal in the back and started pulling out weapons, ammo, shotgun, salt. Molly rounded the corner and saw what we took for granted every day, and started to back away slowly.
"Well... ok. Thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here," she said carefully, her eyes taking on a new glint as it became clear she thought we were a psychopathic duo or something.
I walked after her quickly. "Wait. Molly. Molly, wait a minute," I jogged the last few yards to her and she turned to walk away.
"Just leave me alone," she said, walking quickly.
"No, please. You have to listen to me," I said to her, cursing our stupidity.
"Just stay away," she kept walking. I decided then and there that the only way was the truth, Sammy would be proud.
"Listen, Molly, it wasn't a coincidence that we found you, all right?" I said, and she paused, looking back at me.
"What are you talking about?" She asked, looking confused.
Dean was on board with the whole truth telling thing, jumping in with his contribution. "We weren't out cruising for a late night quickie when we ran into you sister. We were already out here. Hunting." I grinned at the late night quickie reference, trying not to show it.
"Hunting for what?" Molly asked quietly, taking a few steps back toward us. I took a breath, trying to word this delicately.
"Ghosts," Dean answered quickly and I gaped at him. He turned and walked back to the trunk with a shake of his head.
"Uhhh, don't sugar coat it for her or anything," I said with a semi-laugh.
"You guys are nuts," Molly said, predictably.
Dean was losing patience and he spun around to look back at her. "Really? About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out?" He gestured around his stomach, the imagery coming back to my mind and causing a shudder to run down my spine. Molly just stared at Dean, defiant, not wanting to admit it. Dean raised an eyebrow at her and looked smug. "You know what you saw," he said finally.
I took a moment to try and explain to her. "We think his name is Jonah Greeley. He was a farmer that died fifteen years ago on this highway." I said.
"Just stop," Molly ordered me, shaking her head, but I ignored her.
"One night a year, on the anniversary of his death, he haunts this road. That's why we're here Molly. To try and stop him." I tried my best puppy-dog look on her, the one I'd learned from Sammy.
Molly softened, as if what we were saying might be getting through to her. "Now, I suppose this ghost made my car disappear, too?"
"Crazier things have happened," Dean said, walking past me and punching me gently in the arm with a semi-smile "Huh?" He asked me. I chuckled and shook my head.
"You know what?" Molly said, watching this little exchange. "I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself." She turned to walk away again.
"I don't mean to be harsh, but I don't think you're gonna get too far," Dean said, straight to the point.
Molly turned, looking a little frightened. "What is that supposed to mean?" She asked suspiciously.
"It means that plan A was to get you out of here. Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill," Dean said, gesturing back toward where we'd seen the ghost.
"Molly, we're telling the truth. Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway," I said, looking around the bare trees. They seemed stark and harsh against the moonlight shining above.
"You're s... you're serious about this, aren't you?" Molly asked, starting to look like she was getting it. She walked toward us, tears in her eyes.
"Deadly," Dean said with a nod.
"Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him. Tonight that person is you." I said to her.
"Why me? I didn't do anything!" She said, looking resigned.
"Doesn't matter," I said sadly, wishing it could be different. "Some spirits only see what they want." I said pointedly, and she looked back at me, panic coming into her eyes.
"So you're saying this Greeley, he took my husband?" She startled, taking a few short breaths. "Oh god."
"Molly, look, we're gonna help, all right? But first, you have to help us." I said to her, approaching her like I might a frightened dog that was cornered.
"Help you? How?" Molly asked. I looked at Dean, he frowned. We really hadn't wanted to get to this point with her around.
Hunting Cabin
Molly led us to the cabin she had been talking about, the one where she'd last seen Greeley. It was tucked away in the woods and looked as if no one had accessed the place in a very long time. The door was off it's hinges and hanging wide open, Dean stepped in front of us and shone his flash-light around.
"This is it. This is where I saw him," Molly said, looking around the entry to the room before us.
"Must have been his hunting cabin," Dean said to me. He walked over to look at the viscious tools hanging from the ceiling. The table underneath them was bloodstained and unwashed. It looked like a butcher shop in here. "Seemed like a real sweet guy," Dean said to me with a raised eyebrow.
I wandered outside, casting my eyes around, not finding what I was looking for. The ground was bare, the winter had killed all the foliage, there were no leaves on the trees, life anywhere. It was stark and cold, and creeping me the hell out as usual.
"No markers or headstones outside," I reported to Dean when I got back to the cabin.
"You're looking for Greeley's grave?" Molly asked as I stepped into the room, pulling my jacket tighter around me, I was starting to feel a chill seep into my very bones.
"Yeah," I confirmed, nodding at her.
"Why?" It was a fair question. I wondered how much more crazy it was going to make us look if I answered it.
"So we can gid up the corpse and salt and burn it." Dean said simply, like she should already know that.
"Oh. Sure. Naturally," Molly said with a bit of a sarcastic chuckle.
"It's a way to get rid of a spirit," I explained to her and she nodded.
"And that'll save David?" She asked, hope in her eyes.
I chose my words carefully, not wanting to upset her anymore than she already was. Thankfully, for once, Dean shut his big mouth.
"This is what will help both of you," I said to her. "Provided there's a corpse to be found."
Molly nodded enthusiastically at me. "So how do we find it?"
"Uh, not sure. After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body. And that was the last anyone saw of her. So good guess she brought him back here. But they have a thousand acres. He could be buried anywhere on 'em." I said, it was a long shot, but there were a few places we could look, most people didn't just pick a random spot to bury someone, they chose a place that was dear to them, or close by, or perhaps a family burial plot on the land.
"Is is really what you guys do? You're like Ghostbusters?" Molly asked, looking a little sceptical.
"Yeah," I said with a smile. It sounded ridiculous any way you put it.
"Minus the jumpsuits," Dean said, his tone turned brisk as he looked at me, frustration burning in his eyes. "This is a fascinating conversation and all ladies, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun up to wrap this thing up. What do you say we move it along, okay? Great." He brushed past me with little more than a glance, and I frowned, watching him go. What the hell was going on with him all of a sudden?
Molly tagged along with me, seeming to take comfort in having someone around to talk to. "What are we looking for?" She asked as I led us into the woods. I hefted the shotgun full of rocksalt ammo in my right hand, while lighting the way with my flash-light from the other. Dean had disappeared into the woods, not stopping for us to follow when he'd left the cabin.
"Greeley's house," I said in response to her question. "Maybe he's buried there. Look for roads or paths, or something. Stay close."
"Yeah, ok," Molly said with a short nod. I wandered further into the treeline, there looked to be a path up ahead, but I couldn't be sure unless I got closer. It wasn't until she was completely gone that I realised Molly had turned and walked in another direction.
"David? David?!" I heard Molly call out in the distance. I cursed and headed back in the direction I had come. There was a scream suddenly and it got me running.
I rushed through the trees in the direction of the scream, ducking under tree branches and listening for something else to give away her position. There was a gun shot and I realised Dean must have reached her, I followed the sound of the shot and reached a clearing where Molly was standing, looking over at Dean.
"Hey! Are you all right?" I asked, breaking to a stop in front of her.
"What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?" She asked breathlessly.
"Just take it easy, all right?" I said, stopping to catch my breath. "You're gonna see David again, all right? You will." I promised her, and she nodded – looking into my eyes, taking that promise to heart.
I spun around to look at Dean, he was shining his light out into the underbrush ahead of us. He turned back to look at me, and gestured in the direction of the light with his head. "Hey," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Follow the creepy brick road." I saw it then, a crudely cut path from bricks that led into the woods.
"Go ahead," I said to Molly, indicating she should follow Dean. I brought up the rear, casting a wary look around behind us.
"How do you shoot a ghost?" Molly asked, and I chuckled at the question, it was fair.
"They're not real bullets, it's rock salt. Plain salt keeps away spirits. Simple remedies are always the best. In most cultures, salt is a symbol of purity, so it repels impure and unnatural things. Same reason you throw it over your shoulder." I was rambling, but it was cold, and dark, and Dean was being all silent. It felt good to talk to someone since Dean was in a strange mood. We rounded a corner and Dean stopped short in front of us with a sigh.
"You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house," he complained. I looked ahead and grimaced my agreement. The house was a two storey farm house, a door and two windows at the front, weatherboard and beaten looking. It was covered in vines and old growth from years of neglect.
Dean looked around the outside of the house, and I decided to tackle the inside, entering through the unlocked door. We found ourselves in the living room, it was still furnished after all these years. I always found it fascinating how people just abandoned houses full of things. Like there was nowhere for them to go. It would make sense, maybe, if Greeley hadn't had a wife, but what had she done after he was buried? Why had she left all this stuff? For someone used to not having things, it seemed natural to travel light, but the reality was that most people didn't live like us, and so it must have been some powerful grief to just abandon everything as it stood.
After a few minutes Dean rejoined us, casting a look around the furnished room, he seemed as curious about it as I was.
"Any headstones outside?" I asked him, he looked at me and snorted.
"Yeah, right. Is it ever that easy?" He asked, shaking his head and putting the duffel bag full of weapons on the couch. I sighed and looked at him.
"I guess not," I answered quietly. Dean pushed past me and into the kitchen, looking around. His light illuminated a stair case leading up, and he turned to look at me.
"You two check upstairs," Dean instructed. "See if you can find any notes or records telling us where he's buried. I'll just check down here." I nodded, crossing the room with a frown on my face. I was curious as to Dean's sudden distance.
Molly followed me up the stairs, they creaked ominously under us and I prayed that they weren't about to give way under us.
The first room we came to had been used as an office, by the looks of it. It had the papers we wanted, but they were strewn all over the floor in no particular order. "Great," I muttered, squatting to rummage through the papers. Molly had wandered over to the window and was flipping through an old photo album.
"Look at this," she said, sitting down on the bed across the other side of the room. I stood up and joined her. "It's Greeley and his wife," she commented. I turned a couple of pages, looking over her shoulder. The couple looked happy together, arms wrapped around each other in a loving embrace. I stopped and thought about how it would feel to lose someone you cared about so much, the despair you'd be in. I thought about how I'd feel if anything happened to Dean like had happened to Greeley, and I closed mye yes, willing the image away. There was an old handwritten letter on one of the pages and Molly stopped to read it, tears coming into her eyes.
"It's a love letter he wrote her. My god, it's beautiful." She sat back, looking up from the album and taking a shaky breath. "I don't understand how a guy like this can turn into that monster," Molly said, staring back at the album.
I sighed, and thought about it. "Spirits like Greeley are, uh... like wounded animals. Lost. In so much pain that they lash out."
"Why? Why are they here?" She asked, looking up at me.
"Well..." I said, again choosing my words carefully. "There's some part of them that... that's keeping them here. Like their remains, or … sometimes unfinished business."
"Unfinished business?" Molly asked, with a confused look.
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Uh, it could be revenge. Could be love. Or hate. Whatever it is, they just hold on too tight. Can't let go. So they're trapped, caught in the same loops, replaying the same tragedies over and over."
"You sound almost sorry for them," she said to me. I smiled sadly.
"Well, they weren't evil people you know? A lot of them were good. Just... something happened to them. Something they couldn't control." I thought about that, and my life. How on a similar level, mine was the same, there was always some kind of bad thing outside of my control, taking whatever I held near and dear to me.
Dean cleared his throat and I looked up to see him standing in the doorway. "Beth's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this. Me, I don't like 'em," he said to Molly. "And I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em." He paused and I sighed, sometimes he could be too stubborn for his own good. "There's nothing downstairs, you find anything?" Dean asked, looking at me again.
"Uh, well we have just about every piece of mail or receipt they ever had. Looked through a couple but nothing about a grave so far," I said, gesturing to the papers. Dean frowned and started looking around the room, something caught his eye and he walked with a purpose toward it.
"What?" I asked, getting up from the bed.
"There's something behind here," Dean commented, pointing to a cabinet that was half pushed out from the wall. "Here," he said tossing his flash-light to me. He moved moved the cabinet aside, revealing a small hidden door. Dean gave it a push, it didn't move. "It's locked from the inside," he said.
Standing, Dean turned to face us and then kicked back at the door, trying to open it, the door didn't budge. Dean looked surprised, then braced himself, this time kicking harder. The door fell inward with a loud bang.
"Smells like old lady in here," Dean muttered, ducking and going first through the door. I crawled after him and braced my hands against his hips, pulling myself up into the small contained space. I fought off the usual panic attack, having totally forgotten in the moment how much I hated enclosed spaces. Dean looked at me when I involuntarily squeezed his hips against the panic attack, then glanced back around the room. It was a crawl space in the ceiling, almost like an attic. Thankfully, it opened up into a larger room beyond, and Dean headed in that direction.
"And that would explain why," Dean said. I followed him, looking up and hanging from the ceiling was a corpse, old and deteriorated. I swallowed and felt a little tug at my heart. Molly gasped at the sight from behind us. "Well, now we know why nobody saw her again," Dean finished.
I nodded. "And why the house looks like it was just abandoned."
"She couldn't live without him," Molly said sadly. I was moving toward the corpse. I knew exactly what I had to do. There was a chair in the little hidden room, the one she'd used to stand on before kicking it away. I stood it up and looked up at the body.
"Dean, give me a hand." I said to him.
"Really?" Dean asked, though he shouldn't have been surprised. I gaped at him.
"What are you gonna do?" Molly asked, confused.
"We can't leave her like this," I said with a frown, she deserved to be put in the ground, buried properly. No one deserved this.
"Why not?" Dean asked, looking at me with tired eyes. I sighed and turned to him.
"Really Dean? Really?" I asked. "God you never fail to surprise me sometimes. She deserves to be put to rest!" I crossed over to him, hunting through his pockets and coming out with his pocketknife.
"Now help me," I said to him, stern eyes meeting his. He nodded slightly and gave me a bit of a chagrined smile before kissing me on the forehead.
Dean took the pocketknife from me and walked over to the body, stepping up on the chair he balanced effortlessly, reaching up to start sawing at the rope around her neck. I braced myself under the body, steadying it as it swayed from the cutting Dean was doing. The body fell down to me, Dean steadied it a little and then took it out of my arms, taking it with him outside.
Molly and I followed. I found a couple of shovels by the house and brought it with us, starting to dig a grave. We quickly dug until there was a deep enough hole to bury the body. Time was running out, I knew it, sunrise was on its way, but this was important – it needed to be done.
"So... so if you manage to put Greeley to rest too... what happens to them?" Molly asked, watching all this with a curious look.
"Lady, that answer is way beyond our pay grade," Dean said with a smirk.
"You hunt these things, but you don't know what happens to them?" She asked, surprised.
"Well, they never come back. That's all that matters," Dean said in his usual matter-of-fact voice, starting to cover over the corpse with the freshly dug up dirt. The simplicity he saw things with sometimes just boggled the mind.
I looked at Molly, I'd asked myself these questions a thousand times. "After they let go of whatever's keeping them here, they... they just go. I hope someplace better, but we don't know. No one does."
"What happens when you burn their bones?" Molly asked, still full of questions.
"Well, Dad used to say that was like death for ghosts, you know? But... the truth is, we still don't know. Not for sure." I looked at Dean, he was silent again, working away at filling the grave. "Guess that's why we all hold on to life so hard. Even the dead. We're all just scared of the unknown."
Molly looked thoughtful. "The only thing I'm scared of is losing David. I have to see him again. I have to." I nodded, I could relate. I looked at Dean again and fought back those familiar fears that sat with us every day – most people didn't have to deal with real fears of death or worse on a regular basis, the chances of them losing someone they loved didn't occur every week. It did with us, it was always there. I shoved the fear deep, not wanting to look at it, instead I resumed digging alongside Dean.
Molly looked sadly on, struggling to keep her emotions in check. I watched her, admiring her restraint, not sure I'd be quite so with it if the situation we reversed. "I have to..." she said softly to herself, and I understood, I knew why she was holding on so tightly.
Greeley's House
After the grave was finished, we went back into the house. Molly was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at the photo album we'd found earlier. I was with Dean in the living room. We were watching her, and looking out for Greeley.
I turned to Dean, conflicted. "I think we should tell her about her husband." I said to him finally.
"We can't," Dean said shortly, staring out the window – he sounded so dark and serious.
"Dean, it's cruel, letting her pine for him like this. I don't like keeping her in the dark." I said, watching her. I put myself in her place and I felt nothing but sadness.
"It's for her own good," Dean said, looking over his shoulder at me. Seeing the conflicted look in my eyes he sighed and stood up to face me, cupping my cheek in one hand. "I know you feel guilty," he said in a gentler tone. "But let's just stick to the plan. Let's get her out of here. Then we'll tell her." I stared into his eyes and I saw a softness there which he'd been trying to hide, it filled me with a sense of relief. Dean was scary sometimes when he got caught up in a job. Sometimes it made me think he had no emotions at all, which was so stark in contrast to what he showed me behind closed doors.
Molly heard the last part of the conversation and stalked into the room. "Tell me what? What aren't you telling me?" She looked between the two of us as we pulled apart to face her. "It's about David. You know what happened to him."
"Molly..." I started, wanting to tell her.
"Beth, don't." Dean ordered me and I sighed, falling silent.
"Don't what?" Molly asked, turning on Dean. "Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband!"
"That's not true," I said to her, shaking my head.
"Really? Then whatever it is, tell me, please." She said, her eyes begging. I opened my mouth but any words I might have said were drained out by the song House of the Rising Sun beginning to play from an undetermined place. "He's coming," Molly whispered, frightened.
"Stay with her..." Dean said to me, and he cautiously moved toward the kitchen where the music was coming from.
I was looking around for any sign of Greeley, conscious that he could appear at any moment. Dean had been gone a couple of minutes and there was no sound from anywhere other than the song which seemed to be quite creepy now I associated it with a ghost encounter.
"Dean?" I called out, but there was no response. I swallowed and took a few steps toward the kitchen, hesitating as to whether or not I should go and check on him, or stay with Molly.
Suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass and I looked back to see the window Molly was standing in front of cave in, a couple of arms grabbed Molly and pulling her out through the now empty frame.
"Dean! He's got Molly!" I yelled as I jumped up on to the window sill, and dropped to the ground below. Dean was hot on my heels and we gave chase into the woods. I pushed myself as fast as I could go in the dark woods, hitting branches and jumping over fallen logs. It was useless, we had lost them. Dean stood panting next to me and I looked at him resigned.
"This guy is persistent," He said to me, turning us back the way we'd come.
"We have to find her Dean," I said, catching my breath.
"We have to find Greeley's bones," Dean said to me with a stern look. "And, uh, no pressure or anything, but we have less than two hours before sunrise," he said, looking at his watch and they glancing out the window.
We'd reached the house and I was drawn to the photo album on the table. It was open to the photo of Greeley and his wife in front of the hunting cabin, taken many years ago.
"Hey," I said, catching Dean's attention.
"What have you got?" Dean asked, coming to my side. I resisted the urge to step into him, to feel his body pressed against my side, he was still here, and he was ok. I don't know why I was feeling so afraid to lose him all of a sudden. Then it hit me, I was feeling, something, anything... for the first time in a long time. I suddenly wasn't sure what was worse.
"Beth?" Dean asked, looking at me worriedly. I pulled myself back to the moment and looked down at the photo again.
"Uh... February 6, 1992" I said, reading the caption.
"That was like two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?" Dean asked, looking over my shoulder.
"Yeah. It looks like the hunting cabin, but … I swear there's a tree there right where they're standing now." I stopped, and the realisation hit me like a tonne of bricks. I started, looking up. "I should have thought of it before now." I said looking at Dean.
"What?" Dean asked.
"It's an old country custom. Planting a tree as a grave marker." I said, pointing to the spot where they were standing in the photo. The tree that I'd seen earlier, that was Greeley's grave.
Dean looked at me in wonder. "You're like a walking encyclopaedia of weirdness, you know that?" He said with a grin.
"Yeah, I know," I responded with a smile, kissing him on the cheek. "Come on, let's go."
It didn't take us long at a jog to get back to the hunting cabin. The piercing screams of Molly broke through the night as we approached from the outside, carrying the shovels we'd found earlier. We looked through the window and saw Molly tied to the ceiling of the cabin, Greeley was in there with her, circling her like a shark hunting its prey.
"Go get Molly," I said to Dean, he nodded at me and headed for the door. I began to dig around the tree which marked Greeley's grave. There was the sound of the shotgun going off and then silence as I kept digging at the tree base.
I could hear almost everything going on inside of the cabin, and it was starting to freak me out a little, but I had a job to do and I needed to get at these bones. The soil was compacted, and tree roots slowed down the pace, but I threw my weight into the digging. I looked up as I heard Dean cry out and the sound of him being propelled against the wall. I realised we were running out of time.
I dug frantically, praying for a miracle, and then felt my shovel hit something hard. I pulled back, scrambling down and feeling around with my hands. It was a skull. I grabbed the shovel and gave thanks for small mercies, Greeley's wife had only buried him shallowly, I was surprised there were any bones left to find – apparently no animals had gotten to him.
The grave didn't take long to uncover and I heard Dean yell from inside. "Hurry up Beth!"
I could see all the bones now, the first thing to go in on top of them was the salt, I dumped it all on top of the bones. Then the gasoline as I focused on the task at hand and not the sound of Dean grunting as he fought off his attacker. As soon as I'd dumped the gasoline on the bones I picked up a box of matches, lighting one and dropping it in.
The bones ignited with a whoosh and burst into flame. There was the sound of a man screaming in pain, and I ran inside after Dean. Greeley's spirit was flailing around in the middle of the room on fire, and he screamed one more time before disintegrating before us, a sharp and deadly knife falling from his hand to clatter against the floor. Dean was against the wall, breathing hard with a bloody gash along his cheek. I ran to him and checked him over, fussing. Molly was crying with relief as she hung from the ceiling.
Highway 41
Dean looked relieved to see the car when we reached it. He put out his hand to pat it lovingly, smiling at me. "Oh baby, it's been a long night," he said. I raised an eyebrow.
"You talking to me or the car?" I asked with a smirk, and he chuckled, but didn't actually answer me, choosing to instead dump the duffel bag in the back seat before climbing into the driver's seat with a long groan. I opened the door to the back seat for Molly and she looked at me hesitantly.
"Let's get you out of here," I said to her. She shook her head at me.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened to my husband," she said stubbornly.
"Molly..." I said, finding it hard to get the words out.
"All this time I've been looking for him, and you knew that... you knew that Greeley killed him, didn't you?" She asked, looking at me with tears in her eyes. "He's dead."
My heart ached at the look in her eyes, and I shook my head sadly at her. "No, Molly. David's alive." I said to her gently. Her eyes lit up at the sound of those words.
"What? You're sure?" She asked excitedly with a smile.
"I'm sure. We'll take you to him. Come on." I climbed into my own spot, riding shotgun to Dean. Molly was grinning as she got in the back, I wondered how long that was going to last.
Not an hour later we pulled up in front of a nice surburban home. It was just before dawn, but the occupants were up, the lights on and showing us a scene inside. It had been raining as we drove into town, the beads of rain still glittered on the surface of the Impala, and everything seemed just a little more clearer.
"He's in that house right there," I said to Molly as we came to a stop.
"I don't understand," she said to us, looking over at the house confused.
"You will." I said softly, exchanging a knowing look with Dean who looked tired. I got out of the car, the other two following my lead. Molly excitedly cross the road and walked quickly up to the window. She stopped short when she saw David in a bathrobe at the kitchen counter, making a cup of coffee. He would be older than she remembered.
"That's not... it can't be." She said, stuttering. Another woman came out wearing a bathrobe and kissed David on the lips. "What's happening?" Molly asked, looking at us confused. "Who is that?"
"That's David's wife." I said softly, looking at Molly with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Molly. Fifteen years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived."
"What are you saying?" Molly asked, a startled look in her eyes.
"We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting Highway 41," Dean said, this time his voice had taken on a softer tone. "There are two. Jonah Greeley, and you."
"For the past fifteen years, one night a year you've been appearing on that highway," I said to her.
"No, that's not possible. It was our anniversary... February 22nd..."
"1992," I supplied her with the year she was thinking and she nodded.
"Molly, it's 2007." Dean said to her.
"Oh, god." Molly replied, looking at us in shock. "And Greeley?"
"Each year he punishes somebody for his death...chasing them. Torturing them. And each year, that somebody is you." I said to her.
"But I don't remember any of it." Molly said confused.
"Because you couldn't see the truth, Molly." I pushed just a little further, it was time now.
"So that's why he won't let me off the highway. Because I... I killed him. I killed us both." And there it was. For the first time fifteen years Molly was seeing something beyond the horror that had blanketed her that night. For the first time she was going to get a chance to crawl out of the dark.
Molly sat down on the curb, looking up at us. "Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me? Why wait until now?"
"You wouldn't have believed us," Dean said to her. She looked at him suspiciously.
"And you needed me for bait," she said, her eyes narrowing at Dean.
"Well, we needed you," I said to her, pulling her attention back to why we were here.
"David." Molly said.
"Molly, we brought you here so you could move on." I said gently, hoping she could do so now she could see the truth.
"I have to tell him," Molly said.
"Tell him what? That you love him? That you're sorry? Molly, he already knows that." I said, looking at her. "Look, if you want to go in there, we're not going to stop you."
"Yeah, but you are going to freak him right out. For life," Dean said, raising an eyebrow.
"David's already said his goodbyes, Molly. Now it's your turn. This is your unfinished business." I said, reminding her of the conversation we'd had earlier.
"What am I supposed to do?" Molly whispered, tears running down her face.
"Just... let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that...we think you'll move on." I said.
"But you don't know where?" Molly asked.
"No. But Molly, you don't belong here. Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go." I said once more.
Molly nodded sadly, casting one last glance at the house before standing up and walking slowly walking away. She turned her face upward as the first light of dawn shone over the rooftops of the houses. She was suddenly bathed in light, and just like that, she vanished.
Dean stared for a long moment, quiet, then turned to me. "I guess she wasn't so bad... for a ghost. You think she's really going to a better place?"
I slipped my arm around his waist, pulling him tightly against me, relishing the heat that passed from his body into my cold and weary muscles. "I hope so," I said honestly, tentatively touching the cut along his face and grimacing.
He reached up and brushed a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my face. "I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?"
"Doesn't really matter, Dean. I think hope is kind of the whole point." I said quietly, looking up at the sun now creeping over the horizon. I felt sad, all the anguish of the last month or more starting to creep up on me. Dean wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in close.
"I hope we don't have to take that plunge for a long, long time. I don't know what I'd do Dean," I sighed into his chest, holding him tightly against me.
"Yeah, me too." Dean said quietly, kissing the top of my head. We stood like this for a while, silent. A light rain started to fall, drizzling down on top of us. Dean pulled back with a groan and gave me a playful smack on the ass. "All right, Haley Joel. Let's hit the road," he said and opened the passenger door of the car for me. I climbed in with a smile, and watched out the window while he joined me, taking up his spot in the driver's seat.
"You know I bet by lunch time we could be at that little Bed and Breakfast in Green River that you like so much., you could get yourself one of Eleanor's Monte Carlo sandwiches... best in the country?" Dean said randomly, looking over at me. I mustered up a smile and nodded.
"Yeah, that sounds really good." I said, looking over at him. He looked tired, as if he'd been carrying a heavy burden for some time and it was finally starting to get the better of him. It occurred to me that it was probably me, and the way I'd been in the month since we lost the baby that was causing the strain, and I felt my heart ache. In all my grief, there hadn't really been time for Dean to work through his own – not that he tended to do that. Maybe a couple of days in Green River would do us the world of good.
Sliding across the bench seat, I snuggled in against him as he started up the Impala, and pulled away from the curb. He wrapped one arm around me, keeping the other on the wheel, and I leaned against him, head on his shoulder.
Bobby's House
Sioux Falls, South Dakota
5 days later
Apparently Sam had been waiting anxiously for us to return in the week we had been gone. He looked a lot better than he had the day we'd left, but then I'd tried to beat him to a pulp that day; now he looked refreshed and rested, a renewed spring in his step.
Dean and I were feeling a lot better too, having stopped for a few days in Green River to reconnect with each other and just rest. We'd needed it, we'd probably needed it weeks ago, but I hadn't been ready. Not for the first time in my short life as a hunter did I look at the supernatural world and consider just how much it made me think about my life, and start to value it a bit more.
I'd been delaying the inevitable, but the next morning after we'd arrived back at Bobby's I dressed early, pulling on my favourite pair of jeans, one of Sam's old hoodies he'd since discarded, and some tennis shoes. Dean and I were staying in Cole's old room – which was located in the converted attic, so I was careful to take the stairs quietly as I didn't want to wake up Bobby or Sam as I crept down to the main part of the house.
I crossed quietly to the front door, letting myself out into the early morning light. The sun was just starting to peep over the horizon and I stretched, stifling a yawn as I bounced down the stairs, heading toward the back of the car yard. My steps faltered a little as I saw the garage-turned-gym and I almost gave in to the need to run and never look at the damage I had done.
Stopping, I deep a few deep breathing exercises and then steeled myself, making up my mind to face the consequences of my actions. I renewed my pace, walking toward the gym, and rounded the corner to the angel garden... only to find that all the angels, broken and lost to me in my fit of rage, were gone.
I stopped, confused, looking around. There was a new garden now, clean and pristine. A beautiful Magnolia tree was planted in the middle of where my angels had once stood. A wooden bench with wrought iron sides in fancy filigree work sat under the tree. There were beautiful terracotta planters spaced around the area, housing a range of flowers that shone brightly in the morning light. I was floored by the sight.
There was one final touch, a single statue which seemed strange to my eyes given the sheer volume of angels that had been there not even a week ago. Nestled among the flowers in one of the planter boxes under the tree was a garden ornament of a little baby, wrapped in angel wings. I felt my breath catch at the sight of this little wonder, reaching out to run my fingers along the belly of the baby. A small plaque was attached to the side of the planter, it read simply Patrick Dean Winchester – born sleeping January 15, 2007. In the arms of the angels.
I chewed on my lip, fighting back the tears that so wanted to fall. I turned around, marvelling at the transformation of the area, it was a real little garden now, not a shrine to angels.
"Do you like it?" Sam's voice sounded tentatively from the side of the gym. I looked up to see him watching me, a vulnerability in his eyes that belied the casualness of his stance.
I nodded with a small smile, waving my hand in the air gesturing to all of it. "It's beautiful..." I said, a couple of tears escaping from my eyes. "But you didn't have to do this Sammy," I said.
"Yes I did," Sam said, an anguished look on his face. He crossed over to me, and sat on the bench, pulling me down beside him.
"I'm sorry Beth," he said, holding my hands. "For everything."
"I know you are Sammy," I said quietly, mustering up a smile for him. Sam would always be that little thirteen year old kid to me, just as he was that little baby to Dean, the one he'd carried out of the fire twenty-four years ago.
I thought about Molly, and everything she'd put herself through, holding on to the past and the life that had left her in it's wake. I reached up and brushed a piece of hair behind Sam's ear, looking him in those big brown eyes.
"We can't change the past Sam. Nor does it benefit us by living in it either." I said, I'd been giving this a lot of thought in the last few days at Green River. "I don't blame you, not for a minute, even though I know it must have seemed like it this last month."
Sam sighed and nodded at me. "If I'd been strong enough..." he started but I silenced it with a couple of fingers to his mouth, shaking my head.
"Don't go there Sam, you think I haven't said the same thing to myself the last ten years about my dad?" He nodded slowly. "It doesn't change anything. You'll always carry it with you. But you can't blame yourself all the time, seeking to rectify something that was out of your control."
"Tell me about the tree," I said to him, changing the subject and looking up.
"Uh... well, it's a Pink Magnolia," Sam said, his brow furrowing at the sudden move to a different topic. Pink magnolias represent youth and innocence together with joy." I smiled and nodded at the symbolism, it was perfect.
"Thank you," I said softly, squeezing his hands in my own.
"Holy..." Dean's surprised voice startled us and we looked up to see him standing at the corner of the shed, staring at the scene before him. "Well I thought you might be here..." he said to me, running a hand through his bed tousled hair. "But I sure wasn't expecting this."
I smiled and stood up, crossing to him for a cuddle. After a moment I pulled him over to the tree, to see the baby statue, and the plaque. He took it all in silently, tears just under the surface of those beautiful green eyes. Sam watched us closely, still sitting on the bench and letting us have our moment together.
Dean turned and grabbed Sam by the shoulder of his jacket, pulling him to his feet and into a group hug, squeezing us both tightly to him. Nothing had to be said, the hug said it all.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
The song for this chapter is Ballerina by Leona Naess. I recently saw it on the episode on Weeds where Jeffrey Dean Morgan guest starred. It's probably one of the most beautiful and saddening scenes I've seen in a long time. The song isn't about a miscarriage/stillbirth, but it's still haunting in it's beauty. It's perfect for this episode.
So I just want to say thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review or PM me – always awesome to hear from readers :D I hope you enjoy this episode too! Please keep doing so as it puts a big smile on my silly face and makes me want to keep trekking along in all my fangirl squealdom as I rewrite SPN history LOL
A big thank you goes out to my partner in crime, Ms EarthhAngel who I've been working collaboratively with to write some fun loving fan fic around the Winchester and Singer clans. Beth features, in fact, if you like Beth I recommend going on over to EA's fanfic How To Save A Life and checking the story out, you'll get a fun look into Dean and Beth 1-2 months before their relationship went serious, so there's a bit of angst, a bit of clandestine sneaking about, and definitely some drama! The latest chapter just has me chuckling away as we read about Beth's 21st birthday bash that just goes terribly wrong. Do take the time to check it out, I daresay you'll enjoy it if you like my – EA keeps me honest by proofreading my writing and helping me bounce ideas around – she's on hiatus for the next 10 or so days, so any mistakes during that time are fully my own!
I'm going to be posting a few little one-shot shorter pieces in between the big episodes as I see fit. This has been on my mind for a while, as I like to keep the updates coming fairly quickly (ideally I'd like to have one up at least every second day) but I have been pretty busy IRL too, so it can take me a while to get to completion with the big episodes. So my thoughts are that I'm going to try put in a few mini-updates which could be any and everything, whatever's on my mind! Some will be journal entries from Beth's past (and maybe Dean's as a contrast) , some flashbacks to things they've done, some little side stories to flesh out what else is out there. I'm looking forward to it and I hope you enjoy it – let me know if you have any ideas or suggestions!
There'll be a flashback coming up soon – probably pre-relationship, though it might be early relationship Dean & Beth too... I haven't decided yet. Either way, it'll be fun :)
Annnnd... I've got to stop watching SPN Comic Con videos on YouTube LOL
Speaking of videos – are there any talented video people out there who would be interested in doing some Dean & Beth or John & Cole videos at some point? I would LOVE to do some, but I have no skills in this. If you're interested and know what you're doing in that area, let's talk! :D
OK I'm sure there were other things I wanted to say, can't think of them right now. Going to post this and get some sleep! Enjoy :D Please review!
By the way - is anyone interested in seeing some more of Jefferson? I'm thinking of doing a flashback with him in it! :D Let me know!