**So sorry this update took so long, but I'd love to hear from everyone in the reviews! Please tell me what you think about the story! I absolutely love reading them! Again, sorry for the delay! Quick disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except my own lovely OCs! So excited to write the next chapter and meet Andy (he was one of my favorite season 2 characters)! Please PM or review if you have any suggestions, criticisms, or remarks about my story! I love reading them! Thanks again and love you all!**
Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things
"Come on, Sam. I'm begging you. This is stupid," Dean began, and I bit my lip, debating whether to get involved in the argument or just let it run it's course. I knew both sides of this argument, and I also knew how it would end.
"Why?" Sam questioned, and I sighed lightly, going back to flipping through the magazine I had been looking at. I settled on remaining quiet unless the fight got majorly out of hand, which I very much doubted it would.
"Going to visit mom's grave?" Dean reiterated what we were doing, and my hand subconsciously flew to the pendant that rested on a thin, gold chain around my neck. Mary had given it to me when I was barely three for Christmas. With the danger in our work, I rarely wore it for fear of loosing it, but I figured now was a good occasion. It was beautiful and simple yet elegant with a bronze colored circle pendant that held a small, blue gemstone embedded in it.
"He's got a point, Sam. I mean, she doesn't even really have a grave," I chimed in, realizing that my 'don't get involved' rule was stupid and probably wouldn't have lasted very long anyway. I knew that it would be good for Dean to see his mother's grave, and I was worried about him but for some reason, I couldn't picture myself there.
"Exactly," Dean acknowledged my argument. "There was no body left after the fire," Dean's voice gained a defensive tone that made me glance up from the magazine apprehensively.
"She has a headstone," Sam argued, making an unfortunately good point.
"Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man that we've never even met, so you want to go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger-" Dean started heatedly, his hand tightening on the wheel.
"Dean, that's enough," I stopped him mid-rant. He'd been on edge lately, and I hadn't stopped worrying about him since John had joined us again back when we did that vampire hunt. "Sam just wants to resect her memory," Sam nodded at me, and I gave him a small, strained smile.
"So, what, you're on his side now?" Dean glanced at me accusingly in the rearview, and I sighed briefly, shaking my head.
"I'm not on anyone's side, Dean. I just think that if Sammy wants to pay his respects, then he has a right to. Mary was his mom, too," I reminded Dean gently, reaching up to put a gentle hand on his shoulder and feeling him relax slightly under my touch.
"Yeah, and after dad, it just - it just feels like the right thing to do," Both Dean and I stiffened at the mention of John, and I roughly shoved the harsh memories that surfaced away
"It's irrational is what it is," Dean grumbled, unwilling to give into Sam's reasoning.
"Look, man, no one asked you to come," Sam pointed out, surprisingly understanding.
"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? We haven't heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down," I suppressed a third sigh at Dean's words. All he wanted to do was hunt now, bury himself in the job.
"That's a good idea. You both should," Sam agreed with his brother, and I shot him a pointed glance as he included me. I never told him I didn't want to see Mary's grave. "Just drop me off, I'll hitch a ride, and I'll meet you there tomorrow," Dean glanced back at me, and I could see he was actually considering Sam's words.
"No," I shot down the idea, knowing that the three of us needed to stick together. "It's dangerous to split up, especially when there's a demon out there hunting for us," That much was true at least. A half hour later, Dean pulled into the cemetery parking lot, and we both got out and headed inside the iron gates. Dean and I paused as we neared the section of the cemetery where Mary's grave was supposed to be. Sam glanced back at us and seemed to understand instantly what was happening.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," He told us before turning again and walking through the gravestones.
"You can go, you know," My eyes flicked to Dean as he spoke up, and I shook my head at the suggestion.
"I'm okay with waiting here," My fingers toyed with the pendant around my neck again as I faced Dean. "Come on," I took his hand and started away from the spot we'd been standing. "Sam'll be a few minutes. Let's walk around some. This place is giving me the creeps," Dean let out a small chuckle that made me glance sideways at him quizzically.
"That's a bit ironic," My mouth twitched up in a small smile. "The hunter who is creeped out by cemeteries," Dean joked, and I nudged him lightly with my shoulder.
"Shut up," His hand slid from mine to rest around my waist as I rested my head against his shoulder. "I'm not creeped out by all cemeteries. Just this one feels… cold," I couldn't really describe it; it just felt different, dark somehow.
"Whatever you say," He surrendered, causing me to smile ever so slightly, but the smile faded when I caught sight of something a few yards away. I lifted my head from Dean's shoulder to get a better view of it.
"Hey, what's that?" In a couple steps I was in front of the dead tree, feeling the trunk of it, which was dry and stiff.
"Mel," Something in Dean's tone made me turn to look at him inquiringly only to see him studying the ground. My gaze dropped to my feet to take in the dead grass that surrounded us in a circle. Dean's eyes focused on a grave a few feet away from me and he headed towards it, kneeling down in front. From what I could tell, it was a recent death due to all the now dead flowers that were laid down next to it.
"Excuse me!" I called to an old man in a dark jacket 'security' jacket. He came over, and I gestured to the grave, trying to appear natural even though I was about to ask for the information of a dead girl that I didn't know. "Who's grave is this?"
"Angela Mason," The man replied, not seeming the least bit disturbed by the odd question. "She was a student over at the college. Her dad works in the town just over there. He's a professor at the school," He shook his head sorrowfully as he gestured to the right. "Poor thing. They buried her three days ago, you know. It was heartbreaking," My eyes caught Sam, who was watching us, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"And do you use any pesticides around this area?" Dean inquired, and I was honestly hoping the guy said no. As much as Dean wanted a hunt, I wanted one more.
"No, nothing. It's a shame everything here's dying," He shook his head again, and I could tell that he was still somewhat talking about the girl that was buried here.
"Thank you," I smiled as he handed me a card, and Dean and I headed back to Sam.
"Angela Mason," Dean informed him as the three of us began walking to the car. "She was a student at the local college, and her funeral was three days ago,"
"And?" Sam prompted, causing me to glance at him incredulously.
"Sammy, look at her grave," I gestured back to the circle of death that surrounded the kid's grave. "It's a perfect circle. You can't tell me you think that's normal,"
"Maybe the ground's keeper went a little argo with the pesticides," He shrugged, making me stare at him with a popped jaw disbelievingly. He couldn't be naive enough to really think that was what was going on here.
"No, I asked him," Dean replied. "No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it,"
"Okay, so, what are you guys thinking?" Sam questioned, but I could hear the hesitation in his voice.
"Not sure. Spirit risen, maybe? Unholy ground," I listed, glancing at Sam to see his incredulous face. He stopped, and Dean and I turned to face him. "What?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.
"If something evil happened, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" Dean backed me up, and Sam's eyes flicked to the grave before he looked back to us.
"Yeah," He shook his head in confusion and something that if I hadn't known better I would've said was pity.
"It could be similar - a sign of demonic presence," I agreed with Dean, not sure why Sam was acting so skeptical. It's not like we hadn't chased down hunts that had less signs than some poisoned ground. "Or her spirit," Sam just shook his head again and began walking back to the car. "Well, you're excitement's overwhelming, Sam,"
"It's just stumbling onto a hunt… here of all places?" He ignored my sarcastic quip while speaking in a skeptical tone that I really didn't like one bit.
"So?" Dean shrugged.
"So, are you sure this is about a hunt, not something else?" I suppressed an eye roll as I leaned on the passenger's door, facing Sam, who stood with his hand on the right back door.
"What else would it be about?" Dean's voice held a warning not to continue the conversation, but, per usual, Sam didn't heed it.
"You know, just forget it," Sam sighed, glancing at me and then looking at Dean again and shaking his head.
"Look, you can believe whatever you want, but the fact is this might be a hunt and if it is, we can't just abandon the people here," I pointed out, and Sam sighed.
"Yeah, and we let you drag our asses out here, the least we could do is check this out," Dean brought up a good point, and Sam glanced at the gravestones for a moment before looking at me and then Dean.
"Yeah, fine," Sam sighed reluctantly as he agreed, and I let out a brief, small smile. We had a hunt.
"The girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school," Dean got into the driver's seat, and I shot Sammy a small smile before sliding into the driver's seat. The ride over to the local college was surprisingly short, and it only took us a couple minutes to find the professor's room, for the college was also surprisingly small. Dean knocked on the glass door with faded yellow letters running across it. A small, grey haired man in a brown suit and blue tie opened the door, studying us inquiringly.
"Are you Dr. Mason?" I questioned politely, but I already knew the answer.
"Yes," I could see the hard expression on the man's face, but it was tired and drawn at the same time. The face of a man who'd just lost his only daughter.
"I'm Sam. This is Dean and Mel," Sam nodded to each of us respectively as he answered. "We were friends of Angela's. We-we wanted to offer our condolences," The man's expression changed to one of sorrow, and he stepped aside to allow us to pass.
"Please, come in," We followed him in and sat down on a couch while he pulled something out from his desk and handed it to me since I was sitting in between the two boys. I opened it, and my heart gave a painful tug as I saw that the album was filled with pictures of him and Angela smiling together.
"She was beautiful," Sam spoke softly as Dean rose and went to the bookshelves.
"Yes, she was," Her father agreed.
"This is an unusual book," Dean snapped the book closed and turned it to face us so we could all see the strange, golden symbols that were covering the front of it.
"It's ancient greek. I teach a course," He explained, and Dean accepted it, putting the book back on the shelf.
"A car accident," I shook my head. "It's just so horrible," I bowed my head, and her father looked down.
"Angie was only a mile away from home when…" He trailed off, his face tightening as if he were trying not to cry. I reached out and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder softly, wanting to give the old man some comfort.
"It's got to be hard… loosing someone like that. Sometimes it's like they're still around, almost like you can still sense their presence. You ever feel anything like that?" Dean questioned pointedly, and my eyes returned to the man.
"I do, as a matter of fact," He nodded, his voice sounding broken.
"Don't worry, that's perfectly normal. Especially with everything you're going through right now," I reassured him, glancing up at Dean to give him a look. People who are grieving always feel like that; it's nothing special. If we were going to prove to Sam that this was a hunt, we needed something stronger.
"You know, I still phone her," I swallowed hard, my mind wanting to drift backwards through time, but I forced it to stay in the present. "And the phone's ringing before I remember that, uh…" He didn't need to finish the sentence. "Family's everything, you know?" My eyes flicked to Dean before they returned to Dr. Mason. "Angie was the most important thing in my life, and now I'm just lost without her,"
"We're very sorry," Sam spoke up when neither Dean or I did. This time I didn't look at anyone. Instead, my eyes dropped to the floor. I understood everything he was saying perfectly, and I could feel his pain as if it were my own.
The fire blazed brightly as the flames traveled up the wood to lick at the items that were wrapped in a white cloth and set atop the pyre. By now, the things were little more than charred metal, but I couldn't bring myself to walk away from them. There hadn't been a body to burn, so we'd gathered up some of his personal belongings and burned them as if they were his corpse. If anyone deserved a hunter's funeral, it was my dad. My hand reached up to my belt where a dagger was slid into the waistband of my jeans. He'd given it to me for my last birthday, which had been two months ago. Back then, everything had been perfect. I'd been with Dean, my dad had been alive and well, Jez wasn't leaving, and we'd all been together. It was the last really happy moment of my life. And it would never happen again.
"Mel?" I didn't turn as I heard Sam's soft voice behind me. I could feel the dry tear stains on my face, but I didn't care enough to brush them away. He was dead. My dad was dead. He'd died saving my life. My throat closed, but I couldn't cry anymore. The past three days had been hell for me, and I'd cried more than I had in the entire rest of my life combined. "Melody," Sam's hand was on my shoulder now. "You have to come," I finally managed to tear my eyes away from the fire to look at Sam.
"What are you talking about?" I had meant for the words to come out demanding, but my voice was hoarse from disuse so it ended up sounding more like a croak.
"It's Dean and Jez," The two had never been close, and they constantly argued. I loved them both, of course different ways, but I really hated it when they fought. "You really need to come," Finally, the worry in Sam's voice pierced the haze of grief that was clouding my thoughts and emotions, and I frowned at him.
"Why? What's happening?" Sam just shook his head, and, with a massive effort, I managed to force myself to focus on what Sam was saying.
"You just need to come," He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards Bobby's house, where we were staying for a short while until John picked us up again. I heard the shouting when I was still a good ways from the porch and hurried the last few steps with Sam jogging in front of me. He wrenched the door open, and I walked inside, my eyes widening at the sight. Jez was hurling a shoe at Dean, who ducked, allowing it to sail over his head and hit the wall. Dean's jaw was tightened, and he looked darkly furious, his eyes burning with hatred. Jez, on the other hand, looked borderline hysterical with anger as she picked up a picture frame and hurled it at him. He tried to get out of the way, but it sliced his cheek as it hurtled by.
"You bitch!" He yelled at her, stalking towards her, and in response she picked up a knife off the table.
"Stop it! What the hell is going on?" I forced my voice to a yell, making Jez and Dean freeze and turn to face me. There was a moment of absolute stillness before Jez stormed over to the couches and picked up a black duffel bag.
"Ask him," She glowered at Dean for a moment, and he glared daggers at her in return.
"You're leaving?" I asked, feeling more broken than before, and she turned her softening eyes on me as she slung the duffel over her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Was all the explanation she offered heading towards the door, but I blocked the exit.
"You said you'd stay for a couple of days," I was begging her now, but I didn't care. She was the only person who really knew how I felt, and now she was leaving me too. "Jez-"
"I can't stay here," Her eyes flicked to Dean before landing on me again. "I'm sorry. I'll call you when I'm safe," She brushed past me and out the door as I stood there, frozen. A few seconds later, I heard the crunch of tires over leaves and then silence.
"Mel…" I didn't want to hear Dean's apology, so I just numbly walked past him towards the stairs. "Mel, wait," He caught my arm, spinning me to face him, and I could see the regret in his face. "I just…"
"You just what Dean?" I asked tiredly, not having the energy to be angry or even sad anymore. "Because of you the last family I had left just walked out the door," Hurt flooded his eyes, and a bitter happiness pierced my stomach. I had meant to hurt him with that comment; I wanted to make him feel a fraction of the pain I was feeling. I jerked my arm out of his hand and whirled around, continuing to the stairs. I took measured steps until I reached my room and shut the door, pressing my back against it and sliding down until I was sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. I had been wrong before. I could still cry.
"I'm telling you, there's something going on yet, we just haven't found it," Dean insisted, glancing across the room at where I was sitting on one of the beds with a huge book in my hands.
"Guys, so far you got a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam's skepticism was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Well, that grave didn't turn into unholy ground by itself," I pointed out sarcastically.
"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground," Sam turned around from where he was drying his face with a towel. "Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly vengeful-spirit material. You heard her father,"
"Yeah, well, maybe daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean suggested, and I completely agreed. No college girl tells there dad everything that happens to her.
"You know what? We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore," Sam threw the towel aside as his voice grew heated.
"Okay, Sam, say we leave, and this is a hunt. People will die because we just left without figuring out what's going on here," I argued, feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was right to think this was a hunt.
"I think I know what's going on here. IT's the only reason I went along with both of you this far," Sam confessed, and I set my book down and rose an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue with the thought.
"What are you talking about?" Dean asked him.
"This is about mom's grave," Dean scoffed, and I rolled my eyes, picking the book up again and rifling through it.
"Sam, this has nothing to do with Mary's grave," I assured him.
"Neither of you would step within a hundred yards of it. Look maybe you're both imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about mom or dad," Dean stopped rifling through his duffel bag and straightened, glaring at Sam. Something in his eyes worried me, and I took a small step forward to stand between him and Sam. "You want to take another swing? Go ahead if it will make you feel better,"
"No one's swinging at anybody," I spoke firmly, not wanting a repeat of what happened last time. I glanced up at Dean to see him still glowering at Sam. "Dean," I prompted gently, and finally his eyes flicked to meet mine and some of the anger melted.
"I don't need this crap," He stalked to the dresser and picked up the keys to the Impala before glancing back at me. "Where are you going?" Sam called after him, and he turned back.
"I'm gonna go get a drink," He informed his brother before his eyes landed on me. "You coming?" I picked up my jacket from the bed and shrugged it on before following him out the door.
-SPN-
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking lazily at the sunlight that was streaming through the windows. It was the first time in a long time that Dean or I had gotten a full night's rest. I lifted my head from where it was resting on Dean's bare chest to take in his peacefully sleeping face, and I couldn't help smiling slightly before I kissed him on the cheek lightly and got up, going to the bathroom to shower. When I got out of the shower, I changed and brushed my hair and teeth before coming out of the bathroom to see Dean was gazing at me sleepily from the bed.
"Get up," I nudged him as I walked around the bed to my boots. "We should go to Angela's house - see if there's any clues as to why she'd come back," I reasoned, and Dean let out a groan of protest.
"What's the rush?" He grabbed my wrist, and I let out a cry of surprise as he pulled me back down onto the bed, kissing me.
"The rush is that we need prove that our case isn't imaginary," I told him in between kisses, and he sighed, pulling away to gaze down at me and smile slightly.
"Fine," I was almost sorry he'd surrendered, but we had work to do. I threw on my shoes as he got dressed, and we headed out the door quickly. Angela's house was only a few minutes away. I picked the lock with ease while Dean stood behind me, shielding me from view. We slipped inside, and he shut the door behind us as I began to look around. The house was quaint with picture frames everywhere along with cute wallpaper and curtains for the windows. A certain picture caught my eye, and I picked up the dark wooden frame to see it more clearly. That's when the reflection in the glass caught my eye; a woman was turning around to face us. I whirled just as she let out a scream, and I saw her staring open mouthed at Dean.
"Who the hell are you?" She hurried back into the bathroom as Dean started towards her.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on," She slammed the door without waiting for his excuse.
"I'm calling 911!" She cried. Well, she wasn't stupid.
"I'm Angela's cousin," He called, and there was silence for a moment.
"What?" I could tell be the tone of her voice that the young woman was already on her way to believing him.
"Yeah, her dad sent us here to pick up some of her things," I added onto the lie.
"Our name's are Alan and Marisa Stanwick," He glanced at me, shrugging, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing at the names. The door opened and the woman looked at us warily.
"Her dad didn't say that you were coming," She told us.
"Yeah, well, he didn't mention you either," I replied, glancing at Dean. "Her dad gave us the key. How else would we be able to get in?" She finally nodded in acceptance, and five minutes later we were sitting on the couches while she went through a box of tissues, sobbing all the while.
"So, I'm sure you got a view of Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell us, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?" Dean asked the mourning woman, who looked up at us and swallowed hard before speaking.
"She was great… Just… great. I mean, she was so…" She trailed off, not being able to find the words to describe how her friend was.
"Great?" I supplied, and she nodded, beginning to cry again.
"Yeah," She broke down, and Dean offered her another tissue. "Yeah,"
"You two must've been really close, huh?" Dean encouraged her to continue.
"We were," She agreed. "But it's not just her, it's Matt,"
"Matt?" I echoed in confusion.
"Matt. Angela's boyfriend," She spoke in an obvious voice, like I should've known who she was referring to.
"Right, of course. What happened?" I asked, knowing that it couldn't be anything good.
"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. I mean, who does that?" That's what we'd been waiting for. That was proof.
"That's awful. I'm so sorry," I offered my condolences, but she just shook her head.
"He was taking Angela's death pretty hard, and I guess… I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days," She confessed, taking another tissue.
"Messed up how?" Dean asked.
"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere," I frowned, thinking that maybe it was just another sign of grief, just like the professor when he'd said he felt Angela's presence.
"Well, I'm sure that's normal. I mean, with everything he was going through," Dean was clearly thinking along the same lines.
"He said that he saw her… as in an acid trip or something," So this was definitely a spirit of some sort. Definitely vengeful.
"And Angela and Matt were a happy couple? I mean, no problems or fights that she was angry about?" I checked, and the woman's face scrunched in confusion.
"What? No, of course not. Why do you ask?" The better question is why are you getting defensive? The conversation was clearly over, and I glanced at Dean to see he'd reached the same conclusion.
"Just wondering," I tried to shrug it off, and she seemed to accept that it had just been a weird question.
"Where did Matt live?" Dean questioned, and she wrote down the address on a piece of paper that Dean took as we headed towards the door.
"Aren't you going to take her stuff?" She inquired in confusion.
"We'll come back for it later," I promised her emptily before we left the house, shutting the door behind us. "So, vengeful spirit it is, then," I spoke to Dean as he gunned the engine, and we left the house to go to Matt's house.
"Right, the question is 'why?'. If Matt and Angela were a happy couple there'd be no reason for her spirit to kill him," I shook my head, just as confused as he was.
"Not so sure they were a happy couple," I admitted, causing Dean to glance at me.
"What do you mean?" He questioned.
"Well, did you see how defensive she got when I asked about them being happy?" Dean parked in the driveway in front of the address the woman had given us, and we began walking towards the door. I picked the lock easily, causing the door to swing open without so much as a squeak. There were still a few bloodstains, but for the most part they'd cleaned up the crime scene pretty thoroughly. After a quick scan of the house, we found nothing except some dead plants, particularly around where he'd died.
"You know, Angela's friend seemed pretty broken up about this guy's death," I nodded at Dean's assessment as we got into the Impala and drove back to the motel. We reached Sam's room, and Dean turned the key. Unfortunately, in the silence my hearing heightened and what I heard from inside the room was more than disturbing. The door swung open, and Sam switched off the porn he'd been watching. I could barely make myself walk inside and shut the door behind me.
"Hey," Dean and I stopped a few steps from his bed, and I raised my eyebrows at him. "What?"
"Awkward," Dean summed up the entire situation in one word.
"Where the hell were you two? You didn't come back last night,"
"We got another room down the hall," I glanced at Sam to see his face tighten at my words, and I frowned. It's not like we hadn't done that before on occasion. Why get angry now?
"We were out working our imaginary case. Oh, well, you were right. We didn't find much," I grinned at his words as Dean continued. "Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night - slit his own throat, but, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see. What else?" He glanced at me as he asked the question.
"He was also seeing her everywhere. You know, before he slit his own throat," I added, and Dean snapped his fingers pointing to me as if remembering the detail.
"That's right, but, you know, I'm sure that's just us transferring our own feelings," I folded my arms and leaned against the TV.
"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry. Maybe there is something going on here," Sam conceded, and I gave him an incredulous look.
"Maybe? Sam, we are passed maybe," I told him, a bit miffed that he'd had such little faith in us.
"Yeah, we know how to do our job, despite what you might think," Dean snapped at him, and I put a hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him down. His tense muscles relaxed a bit, making me let out a small sigh of relief.
"We should check out the guy's apartment," Sam started, and then stopped as he saw Dean shaking his head as he sank into a chair.
"We just came from there… a pile of dead plants just like the cemetery. Hell, a dead goldfish, too," Dean informed him, and Sam frowned, processing the new information.
"So, unholy ground?" He questioned as I sat on the bed across from him.
"Possible, but Angela wasn't exactly the 'come back to haunt you' type of person," I told him. The only piece of the puzzle that was missing was Angela's motives for killing.
"I've been reading this, though," Dean held up a pink, leather book that even I hadn't seen him swipe from the house.
"You stole her diary?" I asked incredulously and a bit impressed.
"Yeah, and if anything the girl's a little too nice," Dean informed us, opening the book.
"So, what do you want to do?" Sam inquired.
"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends," Dean decided.
"Does the diary have anyone in particular?" I questioned, knowing that it most likely did.
"You kidding me?" He glanced up at me and smiled cockily. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world," He tossed the book to Sam before heading out the door, leaving us to follow him. The drive was a half hour, and the house we arrived at was blue with white doors and windows. Dean knocked on the door, and a young man around Sammy's age, maybe slightly younger, answered, coming out to stand on the porch with us.
"I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors," The boy told us skeptically after we'd finished creating our cover.
"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded. "You talk, we listen, and maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage - whatever helps jump-start the healing," I resisted the urge to elbow Dean for his flippant tone. He may as well have been holding up a glowing, neon sign that said 'I'm Lying'.
"'Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks," He started back towards the house.
"But you heard what happened to Matt Harrison. Was he a friend of yours?" I questioned and saw his eyes harden with dislike.
"Yeah, I did, and no he wasn't," He answered stiffly.
"We just wanted to make sure you were okay," Sam added, and I knew without looking that he was giving the puppy dog eyes. "Grief can make people do crazy things,"
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am, but if Matt killed himself, it wasn't cause of grief," He stated, and my eyes snapped to his, my eyebrows furrowing.
"Then why would he do it?" I asked, and the boy took a deep breath before answering.
"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault, and he knew it," The boy spoke without blinking as he talked about his best friend's death.
"How was Matt responsible?" Sam questioned in confusion.
"She really loved that guy, but the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up. That's why she crashed the car," Silence followed his words as we took in what he'd just said. Motive… check. "Um, look, I got to get ready for work, so thanks for the concern, but, seriously, I'll be okay," He went inside, and I walked between Sam and Dean to the car.
"Well, that vengeful spirit theory is starting to make a little more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury," I let out a small laugh at that.
"So, if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it's over?" Sam asked, and Dean glanced at me, making it clear we were thinking the exact same thing.
"There's only one way to know for certain," I voiced the thought, and Dean nodded in agreement.
"Burn the bones," Dean elaborated as I slid into the backseat, and he and Sam sat up front.
"Burn the bones?" Sam echoed incredulously. "Are you high?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, and I couldn't suppress the grin that spread across my lips. "Angela died last week,"
"And?" I questioned, still not understanding what the big deal is.
"And there's not going to be any bones. There's going to be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin," He stammered, looking at us in disbelief as if we'd grown a third head.
"Since when are you afraid to get dirty, huh?" Dean revved the engine, and we drove off.
5 Hours Later
I stood there watching Sam and Dean dig a rectangular pit in the middle of the cemetery with a shotgun propped up on shoulder, just in case Angela decided to make a guest appearance. Sam and Dean threw their shovels up, and I crouched down, shining my flashlight down the hole to illuminate both their faces as Dean pried open the coffin a bit before standing and turning to Sam.
"Ladies first," Sam glanced from Dean to me.
"Should that mean you open it?" I grinned at him.
"I'm holding the gun, Sammy," He rolled his eyes and squatted next to the coffin, heaving it open. My eyes widened when I took in the white, interior. It was empty. Shit.
"They buried the body four days ago," Dean spoke disbelievingly.
"How could it just disappear?" I questioned, not understanding what had happened. "Wait, what's that?" I shined my flashlight on a piece of ripped cloth to reveal symbols carved into the wood.
"I'm not sure," Sam muttered as both boys crouched down to get a better view while obscuring mine.
"I've seen these kinds of symbols before," He straightened, and I gave him a hand out of the grave as Sam took a picture of the symbols before closing the coffin and climbing out as well. They filled it in, and we left quickly.
-SPN-
Dean knocked angrily on the door to Angela's father's house. When there was no immediate response, he knocked again, louder this time.
"Dean, calm down, okay? We're still not sure it was him," I reasoned, trying to get him to relax. I was almost afraid of what would happen if the man answered the door with Dean looking as angry as he did now. Before Dean could reply, the door opened and a man came out in a grey t-shirt and a checkered robe.
"You're Angie's friends, right?" He questioned, looking half annoyed and half confused that we were at his doorstep.
"I'm sorry for the disturbance-" I began.
"We need to talk," Dean cut me off abruptly, causing me to throw a meaningful glance at him.
"Well, then, come in," He moved aside and let us through. We walked into the dining room area before turning to face him again.
"You teach ancient greek? Tell me… what are these?" Dean unfolded the paper and turned it around so the man could read them clearly. He glanced at the paper and then frowned at us.
"I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angela," We hadn't explicitly stated that, but from his look it had been what he'd thought.
"It does," Dean answered shortly. "Please, just humor me," The man looked down at the paper again.
"They're part of an ancient greek divination ritual," He spoke, and something tugged at my brain. If he was really behind this all, why wouldn't he lie? He wasn't even attempting to hide the true meaning of the symbols.
"Used for necromancy, right?" I glanced at Dean worriedly. By his tone, it was clear that Dr. Mason was already a condemned man in his eyes, although I wasn't so sure.
"That's right," The man shifted uncomfortably under Dean's stare.
"See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently, they use rituals like this one for communication with the dead, even bringing corpses back to life - full-on zombie action,"
"Yeah," Her dad agreed, his eyes flicking to me uncertainly. "I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's all this about?"
"I think you know," Dean snapped, snatching the paper back from the older man.
"Dean," Sam began, but I knew it was no use.
"Look, I get it. There are people that I would give anything to see again, but what gives you the right?" Dean's glare grew harsher as his words grew sharper.
"Dean, stop," Dean's eyes snapped to mine, and I could see the pain clearly in his green eyes.
"What are you talking about?" Anger consumed the pain in his eyes as he turned back to the man.
"What's dead should stay dead!" He shouted, and the man glared back at him defensively.
"What?" The man asked, not understanding.
"Stop it!" Sam yelled at him, desperately trying to get Dean to calm down.
"What you brought back isn't even your daughter anymore! These things are vicious, they're violent! They're so nasty, they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on! Haven't you seen 'pet sematary',"
"You're insane," The professor told him, trying to keep whatever calm he'd maintained.
"Where is she?" Dean demanded as the man stalked past us and picked up the phone.
"Get out of my house," He tried to command us without looking up from the phone.
"I know you're hiding her somewhere," My eyes met Sam's concerned ones, and that snapped me out of my shock and into motion. "Where is she?" Dean yelled, and I slipped around him to stand between him and Mr. Mason.
"Dean, stop it!" I placed both of my hands on his chest, forcing him back a step. "Look," I gestured to the windowsill where a variety of orchids were growing. "See? The plants aren't dead or wilting. She's not here. He's innocent," Dean whirled around and stormed out of the house. "Go after him, make sure he doesn't do anything," I ordered Sam, trying to regain some control over the situation. Sam was out the door in a heartbeat, following his brother as I turned to the man with the phone. "I'm so, so sorry about all of this,"
"I'm calling the police," He told me, clutching the phone with a white knuckled hand.
"Look, I know that it seems like that is probably the best move, but I can explain, okay? Just give me half a minute, and if you still want to call the police that's fine," The man lowered the phone slightly, but I kept my arms raised in surrender, palms facing the man.
"A couple weeks ago, his father past away suddenly. It was a car crash, too. I know that doesn't make up for what happened, but just, please. He's going through a really rough time,"
"He needs help," I glanced back at the door Dean had stormed out of a moment before looking back at Dr. Mason.
"I know," I conceded, dropping my eyes to the ground. "But I can't get him help if he's arrested," The man's eyes flicked to the phone for a moment before back at me, and he sighed, placing it on the receiver again.
"Listen, you seem like a nice enough girl. You should get as far away from him as you can," My teeth clenched for a moment, but I forced myself to breathe deeply and nod before walking out of the house.
"We better get out of here before the cops come," I heard Dean say just as I walked down the sidewalk to where the two brothers were standing.
"They aren't coming," Both boys turned to me in surprise. "I convinced him not to call them," My eyes fixed on Dean, and I saw the guilt, anger, and pain battling in his eyes. "I better not have to do it again," I grabbed the keys out of Dean's hand, fixing him with a glare when he tried to protest. "I'm driving," I glanced back to Sam. "I'm going to wait in the car," I stalked off to the car before sliding into the driver's seat. A moment later, Sam and Dean got into the car as well, and I began driving.
-3rd Person-
Dean Winchester sat on his bed staring numbly at the photograph he held between his fingers. His eyes were drawn to the two men who were farthest on the left. Both looked slightly annoyed but were smiling at the camera regardless. Jimmy Scott and John Winchester. Next was Jez. Her dark eyes were locked with the camera, and she had a bright smile on that seemed timeless somehow. His eyes dropped to where Sammy was standing near to the table, grinning widely and excitedly. Dean smiled as he looked at his kid brother's face in the picture. He'd just gotten the best final exam grade in the class, and he'd been ecstatic about it.
Inevitably, his eyes fell on the last two people in the photograph. He had his arms around Mel's waist, and she was leaning back against him so his was brushing hers. It was her smile that drew his attention. It was light and carefree, as if she would never and had never felt pain in her entire existence. Dean wondered if she'd ever smile like that again. She was wearing this cheesy party hat that he, Sam, and Jez had made her wear, even though she said she hated them for it.
He couldn't stand to look at the picture anymore, so he set it down beside him and got up, deciding he needed some air. Jez had been the first one to walk away from the funeral pyre. He and Sam had left together. He hadn't wanted to leave her, but she'd said she was fine and that she needed a moment alone. She'd been out there for nearly an hour now, and he was starting to get worried about her. He descended the stairs quickly but stopped short when he reached the living room. A duffel was sitting on the couch, and Jez was packing a picture frame that held her and Mel smiling as they ate sat around a table.
"What are you doing?" He questioned, his tone darkening.
"Leaving," She responded tightly, barely glancing at him.
"What? Why?" No one had told him that Jez was leaving. "Does Mel know you're leaving?"
"Yes, she does, and I can't do this anymore," She glanced down at the picture in her hands before shaking her head. "I'm getting out,"
"What?" Was all he could think to say.
"I'm getting out," She repeated. "I'm leaving the life. I can't be a hunter anymore,"
"You're just going to leave her here all by herself?" His words grew more and more heated as he grew angrier. "She needs you!"
"Well, she'll have to live without me," Jez responded, seeming indifferent.
"How could you just run away?" Jez dropped the picture frame onto the table with a clatter and whirled to face Dean, her eyes glaring with a dark fury that would've made him step back if he hadn't been so furious.
"You think I'm running away?" She snapped at him. "I'm not running away! I'm escaping! Look what this life did to my family! Look what it did to yours! You of all people should know. Your mom-"
"Don't talk about my mom!" Dean cut her off, beyond anger now.
"That world destroyed our lives! Hunting got my dad killed! I'm not going to let it do the same to me!" Jez yelled at him, only serving to make Dean's blood boil more.
"So you're leaving Mel-" He began but was cut off when she gave a mocking laugh.
"You're yelling at me for leaving her? That's rich coming from her ex-boyfriend!" She hurled the word at him like poison, and Dean felt as though she'd slapped him across the face. "What're you doing to help her? Hooking up with every pretty teenager dumb enough to sleep with you? Did you ever even love her?"
"Shut up!" Dean snarled at her. "You know what? Go ahead! Leave! She's probably better off without you!" He turned but stumbled as he felt a sudden hard weight hit the back of his head. He whipped around to see Jez holding another shoe in her hand, and she hurled it at him but he ducked just in time. She grabbed the picture of her and Mel from the table and threw it like a throwing knife. He tried to get out of the way, but it caught his cheek. His hand flew to the newly made cut as he felt the sting of it travel down his cheek. Did you ever even love her?
"You bitch!" He stalked towards her with every intention of throwing a punch before he heard a familiar voice from the doorway.
"Stop it! What the hell is going on?"
"We can't just waste her with a head shot?" Dean demanded, pacing the small motel room while Sam and I sat on the bed finally done with the research we'd been doing all afternoon.
"Dud, you've been watching way too many Romero flicks," My mouth twitched up into a smile at Sam's words, but I wasn't about to argue with him.
"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke them?" I shook my head as Dean misunderstood what we were telling him.
"No, there's too much," I corrected, sighing heavily. "There's at least three hundred different legends about zombies, and each one has a different method for killing them. Some say a stake through the heart, some say fire. My personal favorite is, what was it Sam, feeding their hearts to wild dogs?"
"Yeah," He agreed, getting up and sitting on the chair across from Dean. "But who knows what's real and what's myth?"
"Is there anything they all have in common?" Dean checked.
"No, but a few said silver might work," Sam admitted, and Dean nodded.
"Silver's a start," I stood, regarding Dean as he spoke.
"Yeah, but there's one very important thing we're missing," Both boys looked to me in confusion at my words. "Angela," I pointed out. Without her it didn't matter if we decided to put her in a spaceship and fly her to the moon, we couldn't kill her. "We have to figure out who resurrected her,"
"Any ideas?" Sam questioned, glancing at Dean and then back to me.
"I think if it's not her dad, it might be that guy, Neal," Dean confessed his theory as he got up and headed to the diary.
"Neal?" Sam asked in disbelief. "How'd you come up with that?"
"Well, you got your journal, I got mine," He flipped through the pages before finding the right one and taking a breath. "'Neal's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt'," He slammed shut the book. "There's more here where that came from. It's got unrequited duckie love written all over it,"
"But how do you know he brought her back to life?" I inquired, glancing at Sam only to see him studying the black TV intently.
"Hmm, did I mention he's professor Mason's T.A.? Has access to all the same books," Dean pointed out, and I had to admit, there was a pretty strong case for it.
"Fine, let's go," I tossed Dean the keys back, and he headed out the door. I got up to follow, glancing back at Sam and frowning to see him still staring at the TV. "Sammy," His head snapped up to look at me. "Are you coming?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah," I shrugged on my jacket, studying him in concern.
"Are you okay?" I took a step towards him, but he just stepped around me and headed towards the door at a fast walk.
"Yeah, fine, come on," I followed him out the door, not sure what had got him so freaked out.
We waited till dark until going to Neal's house, for I figured that he would be out at work or something late at night. It was eleven when we ascended the steps of his porch, and I knelt by the lock, picking it expertly before we slipped in.
"Hello?" Dean called, and I stiffened, waiting for Neal to come at us with a bat. Nothing happened. "Neal! It's your grief counselors. We've come to hug," I pressed my hand against my face to suppress the snicker, but I failed miserably, making Dean chuckle. Dean took out his gun and cocked it.
"Silver bullets?" Sam checked.
"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse," We made our way slowly through the house, every so often pausing to check around corners and make sure he wasn't hiding somewhere. I tapped Dean's shoulder and gestured to the dead plants that were set by the stopped beside a locked door that looked like it led to a basement or something. "Unless this is where he keeps his porn," I placed my hands on the lock slowly, and Dean nodded, causing me to yank the lock open and allow the door to swing inward. Nothing. We descended the steps to come to a small roomy place complete with a bed and TV.
"This must be where he keeps her," I noted, trying to take in everything.
"Yeah, and it's empty," Sam pointed out unnecessarily but nonetheless truly. Where was she? "You think's Angela's gone after somebody?" In answer to Sammy's question, I grabbed a metal grate on the far side of the room and slid it open to reveal her escape route.
"No, I think she just went for a nightly stroll through the garden," I quipped sarcastically, causing Dean to chuckle.
"Look, smartasses, she might kill someone," Sam told me seriously, making my smile drop. "We got to find her, guys,"
"Yeah," Dean agreed, and I slid the grate shut. "All right, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right? Well, takes two to, you know, have hard-core sex," I was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Oh, my god," I hit Dean's shoulder as I figured it out, and then I was running up the stairs as fast as I could, hearing the boys following close behind me. I slid into the passenger's side as Dean got into the driver's seat and gunned the engine.
"Where are we going?" He questioned as he pulled out.
"Angela's roommate's house," I told him, and from his sharp intake, I could tell he had figured it out as well. It took us two minutes to get there with Dean's crazy speeding, but I wasn't complaining. I snatched Dean's gun and sprinted up the steps to find the door unlocked. Once inside, I raised the gun and fired. She spun, glaring at me and making an odd snarling sound, so I shot her again right in the chest, making her dash for the open window. I raced after her, hearing someone following me. I gave up trying to catch her and instead, raised the gun and cocked it.
"No!" Dean grabbed the gun from me before I could fire.
"What're you doing?" I snapped at him.
"You can't fire a gun in a residential area right out in the open!" Dean looked at me as though I was crazy. "The bullets don't work on her anyways,"
"They would've slowed her down enough for us to catch her," I argued, and he frowned at me in concern.
"Come on," I had no choice but to follow him back into the house. "Damn that dead chick can run," He announced to Sammy, who was holding Angela's terrified roommate.
"What now?" Sam asked, glancing at both of us.
"We should go talk to Neal," I reasoned, my adrenaline diminishing. Dean, Sam, and I went back to the car, and Dean slowly gunned the engine, driving away from the house.
"So, the silver bullets, they did something, right?" Sam questioned.
"Something isn't enough, Sam. What else did we find?" I glanced at the rearview to see Sam studying the journal.
"Okay, besides silver, we have 'nailing the undead back into their grave beds,'. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire-staking lore came from,"
"Their grave beds?" Dean echoed disbelievingly. "You serious?"
"Yeah," Sam agreed.
"Well, how are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery? I doubt she'll just lay in the coffin for us while we nail her in," Silence followed my words, making my eyes flick to the two boys in the car with me. "What?"
"Nothing," Dean muttered, his eyes returning to the road as Sam's fixed on the journal. We reached Neal's work, also known as Dr. Mason's office, and I closed my eyes to see if I could hear him.
"He's there," I told them, getting out of the car and walking up the steps to the door. I didn't bother knocking, and, instead, just opened the door and let myself in.
"What are you guys doing here?" Sam shut the door behind us as we ignored Neal's question.
"You know, I've heard of some people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you - you take the cake," Dean loomed over Neal, who was sitting at his desk.
"Okay, who are you guys?" He questioned, waiting expectantly for an answer.
"You might want to ask Angela that question," Dean told him.
"What?" There was a slight waver in his voice.
"We know what you did," Sam spoke firmly, and I saw his face go from confused to scared in a heartbeat.
"And before you ask or try to lie, yes we know everything, including the ritual," Neal just scoffed at my words.
"You're crazy," He denied.
"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date, and we're crazy? When someone's gone, they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff," Dean leaned on the desk, glaring at the kid.
"Angela killed her boyfriend. She would've killed Lindsey if we hadn't stopped her," I tried to make him see how bad this was.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean stalked around the desk and grabbed Neal by his collar, hauling him up.
"No more crap, Neal. This blood is on your hands. Now, me, him, and her can make this right, but you got to tell us where she is. Tell us!" Dean snapped, shaking the scared boy.
"My house," The kid broke. "She's at my house," Dean glanced at us, and then, suddenly his expression darkened. I followed his gaze to find some dead plants on the bookshelf. "You sure about that?"
"Come on, Dean. It doesn't really matter where she is," Dean's eyes flicked to mine in surprise. "We just have to perform the ritual over her grave that reverses the one that you did," My gaze moved to Neal as I spoke.
"Right, yeah. We're going to need some black root, some scar weed, candles. It's very complicated, but it will get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple of hours. I think you should come with us," Neal didn't move as he glared at us in suspicion. "I'm serious, Neal. Leave with us right now,"
"No," He shook his head stubbornly. "No,"
"Listen, kid," I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a whisper as I talked. "You're in way over your head. Leave here as soon as you can. Most importantly don't act abnormal. Everything's fine. If you give any sign, even a hint, that something's wrong, she will kill you," I turned, nodding to Sam and Dean, and we got the hell out of there.
An hour later
"You both really think this is going to work?" Sam asked us.
"No, not really, but it was the only thing I could think of given the time," I confessed. My head shot up as I heard a twig snap in the forest. "She's here," I announced quietly, and Dean cocked his gun in anticipation. I pulled out the gun I brought and cocked that one before standing.
"Sam, go," Dean ordered, and Sammy nodded, going out into the woods as I followed him with my ears.
"Wait!" I heard a distinctly female voice call. "It's not what you think. I didn't ask to be brought back, but I'm still me. I'm still a person,"
"She's trying to get him to take pity," I informed Dean. There was a resounding bang as a gun went off. "That would be his answer," Then, I heard the crackling of leaves and the crack of twigs as Sam ran from the zombie. "She has him," I sprinted towards where I heard the thud to see Angela had Sam's face in her hands, ready to snap his neck. I fired, making her fly backwards off of him. I fired again and again and again until she finally fell backwards into the grave, and Dean jumped down, jamming the silver pike into the sternum.
"What's dead should stay dead," We spent the rest of the night filling in the grave, and it was dawn by the time we finished.
"Rest in peace," Sam muttered, glancing down at the grave.
"Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean grinned, grabbing the shovel and his jacket before heading towards the car.
"Hey," My eyes flicked to Sam as he began to talk. "You know the whole fake-ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery - that was pretty smart,"
"Careful, Sam. That was almost a complement," I nudged him, earning a chuckle, before I sighed. "One man's cowardice,"
"What do you mean?" I glanced at him and shrugged.
"Well, if Neal had just told her how he felt about her from the beginning, none of this would've happened," I reasoned logically and saw Sam's face tighten slightly.
"Yeah, but she would've chose Matt over him," I frowned at Sam's tone.
"You don't know that. We don't always choose the popular jocks over the nerds, Sam," I pointed out, smiling slightly at his stereotyping.
"You think she would've been with Neal?" He sounded genuinely surprised at my assessment.
"I think he should have at least tried," I spoke truthfully before turning back towards the car.
"Mel," I looked back at Sam, who seemed to be debating something.
"What's taking you guys so long?" Dean slipped an easy arm around my waist, looking at Sam for an answer before glancing at me.
"Nothing. Let's go," Sam spoke shortly, walking passed us and heading for the car. Dean's eyes found mine questioningly, but all I could do was shrug in response. That had been weirder than usual. We were almost to the car when Dean froze beside me, and I followed his gaze to see Mary's grave.
"Come on," I stepped back to take his hand in both of mine and slowly lead him towards his mother's grave.
"Mel," He began hesitantly. "It's just a grave,"
"No, it's your mom, Dean," We reached the grave and gazed at the pinkish orange headstone. "I remember when we were younger, she used to make us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while we played in the yard or at your dad's garage,"
"She made the best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches," Dean agreed softly, and I let out a small laugh.
"You were obsessed with them," I remembered, causing him to chuckle lightly.
"Just like you with those cakes my dad used to bring home from the store," I laughed, recalling the delicious sponge cake that John used to bring home as an apology to his wife for being late.
"I miss them," Dean confessed, and I tightened my hands around his.
"Me too," I agreed softly, resting my head on his shoulder.
"Come on," Dean spoke up after a few moments of silence. "Let's go," We took our time getting back to the Impala, and when we did, I slid into the back with out protest, my hand slipping out of Dean's. We'd only been driving for twenty or thirty minutes, and I had my eyes shut and my legs across the two backseats when Dean pulled the car over. On instinct, I didn't move from my position, and Dean and Sam got out of the car.
"Dean, what is it?" Sam's voice spoke up.
"I'm sorry," Dean answered after a moment of silence, but I could tell there was more coming.
"For what?" Sam questioned disbelievingly.
"The way I've been acting," He replied, and another small silence stretched on until he finally broke it, his words nearly making my heart stop. "And for dad. Well, he was your dad, too. It's my fault that he's gone,"
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked uneasily, but he knew what Dean was talking about. We all did.
"I know you've been thinking it. So have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. It was a miracle, and five minutes later, dad's dead, and the colt is gone," Sam tried to stop him, but Dean just continued on. "You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly, but dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know,"
"We don't know that, not for sure," Sam tried to deny it, and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, wishing I was asleep.
"Sam…" Dean cut him off. "You, Mel, and dad… you're the most important people in my life, and now… I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural, and now look what's come of it. I was dead, and I should've stayed dead," I swallowed hard, the memory all too vivid. "You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well that's it. So tell me, what could you possibly say to make that all right?"
-SPN-
"Hey, are you okay?" I turned to face Dean, who had snapped me out of my thoughts. All I seemed to be able to think about was that conversation he'd had with Sam.
"Yeah, fine," I told him shortly. I wasn't sure why I was angry, but I just was. It was a deep, burning anger that infuriated me till I could barely see straight. I turned to go when Dean grabbed my arm and forced me to face him again.
"You're not okay. What is it?" I studied him for a moment.
"I heard what you said to Sammy," I informed him flatly, and he sighed. "It's not your fault,"
"Mel, it is my fault," He began, his eyes moving to the floor. "I don't know what happened, but it's pretty obvious he died to save me,"
"Dean-" I started only to be cut off.
"There's nothing say. It's my fault-"
"It's not your fault because it's mine," I interrupted him, and he took a step back, frowning at me.
"What're you talking about?" I closed my eyes briefly, taking a big breath before opening them.
"I saw John in the hospital right before you woke up. He was in the basement with this weird - weird chalk symbols drawn into the ground. He had the colt. He told me he was trading the colt for your life," My eyes had drifted to the ground, and I forced myself to look up at Dean. Betrayal was clearly written in his eyes as he stared at me in shock and anger.
"And you just left him?" Dean asked quietly, but I didn't respond. "How could you just leave him?!" He yelled at me, glowering.
"I didn't know he was going to give his life, Dean! I thought he was just giving up the colt to save his son!" I snapped back.
"You should've stopped him!" Those words turned my veins to fire, and I fixed him with a dark glare.
"Dean, you were dying! I couldn't just let you die! He was going to save your life!" I tried desperately to make him understand why I'd done it. A small part of me thought maybe if Dean forgave me, I could start forgiving myself.
"I should have died!" A deadly silence followed his words, and then whatever shred of composure I was holding on to snapped.
"Really, Dean? Then I should've died in that lake when I was eighteen!" He just stared at me in a stunned silence, but I wasn't done. "I watched you die, Dean! You said you wouldn't leave me, and I had to watch you flatline!" I attacked him, shoving him backwards.
"Mel-" He began, but I couldn't care less about what he wanted to say.
"My dad died to save my life! Jez might die! You flatlined! I thought I'd lost you!" Dimly, I realized I was crying, but I couldn't stop now. I shoved him again, and he grabbed my wrists, making me struggle against him. "Let go of me! It's all my fault! Your dad should've killed that thing when he had the chance! Then he'd still be alive and Jez wouldn't be in danger and you and Sam would be fine! It's all my fault! It's all my-" I broke off into a gut-wrenching sob. "It's all my fault. It's all my fault," Dean pulled me into his chest and held me against him as I sobbed, my hands clinging to his jacket like I was drowning and it was my lifeline. "It's all my fault," I repeated the mantra over and over again until the words grew meaningless.
"It's not. It's not your fault, okay?" We sunk to the floor, but I barely noticed. "It's going to be all right. I promise. I'm not going anywhere. It's not your fault," Eventually I stopped whispering. I even stopped sobbing. But Dean's arms remained wrapped around me tightly, and he never stopped telling me it was going to be okay.