Chapter 7

All three hunters looked around. Skye started getting anxious. She knew that she had left the shovel by the closet door, but now, it wasn't there. A tall, thin figure floated toward Dean and hit him hard on the back of the head. It was the shovel, which the poltergeist was moving. No one could get a hold of it. Mocking the worthless humans, the spirit animated the shovel to move quickly away from whoever tried to grab it. Dean was knocked unconscious. Both Sam and Skye wanted to go see if he was alive, but the spirit wouldn't let them near him. Sam was building up with anger. He wanted to be by his brother's side. He didn't know who this girl was exactly, and if she knew what she was talking about. Burning the bones made sense, but the building? Sam didn't want to do it, but he didn't know much about poltergeists, so they might actually need to. Only Dean or their dad would know. Since John Winchester was dead, and Dean lay motionless on the ground, Skye was their only hope.

The shovel moved toward Skye, preparing to hit her. Sam snatched it by the handle. He used all of his strength to free it from the spirit's grip. At first he struggled, but then a sign of relief was shown. He struck the ground with the tip of the shovel. The tile split and the dirt ground revealed itself. The shovel struck the ground again, this time scooping it up. Sam started digging up as much dirt as he could and threw it on the flat ground next to him until it made a hole. Deeper and deeper he went… Clank! Sam's shovel hit something.

"What is it?"

Skye moved closer to the hole to examine what was in it. Sam put a hand in his thick brown jacket and pulled out a flashlight. It was now dark outside and inside, since the poltergeist started playing with the lights.

"Bones."

Sam dusted of the area, as well as himself. It was a body. Half muscle, half bone, all dead. The smell that the remains gave off made Sam and Skye gag. They both hid their noses under a hand while Skye ran to a cupboard. She searched through it until she found some table salt. Then she looked through another until she found lighter fluid. Sam waited for her to retrieve the supplies. Then he heard a moan from behind. He whirled around, thinking it was the poltergeist. Instead, it was his older brother beginning to stir.

"Dean!"

He had almost forgotten about his wounded brother. Sam knelt down by his side and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Dean", he said again.

"You okay?"

"What hit me?" he said almost instantly.

"It was a shovel Dean."

Dean struggled in Sam's arms, trying to stand up. Sam helped his brother to his feet.

"Son of a bitch!"

Dean put a hand to his forehead. It was bleeding and his head was pounding. He took his hand away and looked down at the dark red, sticky liquid smeared all over his palm. Skye walked over to them.

"You alright?"

She looked concerned, yet relieved. Dean gave her a smirk then he cocked his eyebrows.

"Now I am."

She smiled and gave a little giggle. Then she turned back to the skeleton.

"I've salted them and put the lighter fluid on them."

She turned back to Dean and held out a pack of matches.

"Would you like to do the honours?"

Dean paused, looking at the matches.

"You know it!"

He took the matches and took one out of the pack. They all gathered around the filth-covered corpse as Dean lit the match. The flames burned bright and lit up the entire room.

"You've been a real bitch, Miley. Good riddance."

The ignited splinter of wood flew from his hand, but before it could reach the body, a sudden gust of wind blew out the fire.

"What the hell?"

Dean said it, but they were all thinking it. Out of nowhere a butcher's knife flew through the air and ran right through Skye's heart. Her eyes widened and she gasped for air. She clutched her chest and fell harshly to the floor.

"No! Skye!"

Dean yelled as loud as he could, but she couldn't hear him. Red liquid came sputtering out of her lips. Dean ran to her side as Sam had done to him. Still holding her chest, she could feel the tip of the blade piercing through her.

"Skye…"

She coughed up more blood and closed her eyes, trying not to cry from the pain.

"Oh god, Skye."

Dean did his best also to keep back the tears. His voice was shaky, but he couldn't help it.

"Dean…"

She tried to say something, but all that came out was a whisper and more blood.

"Yeah… I'm here."

He didn't know why he felt so bad. He had only known her for a few minutes, most of which he was unconscious. He felt as though he had known her his entire life.

"Can you… do… me a … favour?"

"Anything."

She tried to get up and turn over.

"C- could you… get the… the knife out… of m-my b-b-back?"

Dean gently turned her onto her back. The knife was pushed right the way through her back. It was stained with blood and made Dean cringe. It made him sick to think that she was now dying in his arms because of a spirit's actions. Sam stood there motionless as Dean put a hand on the handle. The knife took a while to pull back out. He could hear and feel it scrapping against bones in her rib cage. Dean couldn't stand it any longer. Tears trickled down his face and he didn't care anymore. She closed her eyes tightly and bit her lip, trying to take away the excruciating pain. Instead, it just create more blood and wounds. It felt as if the knife was never ending. Finally the tip of the blade came out and Skye was free from the sharp object. They both breathed a sigh of relief. Skye laid flat o her back, still panting for a breath of air. Dean hovered over her, but he didn't know what to do next. He didn't want to leave her there and go back to burning the bones because he had so much sympathy for her and felt bad enough not being able to help her as she was dying. He couldn't talk to her because he hadn't known her that long and didn't know what to say. Skye closed her eyes to rest. Just at that very moment, the spirit got angry and threw a preparation table at Sam, pinning him against the wall.

"Sam!"

Dean got up and ran to his brother. The poltergeist used this opportunity to throw one at Dean. The force was strong. Neither of them could break free from its hold. Dean looked over at Skye. She wasn't breathing. Dead? Couldn't be, not her. She was strong. She was tough. She could handle the pain… or maybe not. No. This though was too much for Dean. He hid his face from her body. How could he get the spirit to let go of him? Of course, a match! Dean reached for the matches on the floor next to him. The table was too big. There was no way he could get one.

"Damn it!"

He swallowed hard. He filled up with frustration. He looked over at Sam who was also frustrated.

"Sammy, you alright?"

Sam clenched his teeth and tried to push the table away from him. Then he stopped to answer.

"Yeah. Wish I could say the same about Skye, though."

They both looked over at where Skye lay, expecting to see her lifeless body. Surprising, they saw nothing.