**Hey! So this is the next update! I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! This is more of a long chapter than the last couple have been. Some of the episodes have more Dean and Sam in it than others. Also, writing this chapter made me realize how much dramatic irony is involved in rewatching this episode. Anyway, hope you all love it! Please review or PM with any ideas, criticisms, or questions you have! Thanks so so so much!**
Houses of the Holy
"Good morning. You're not the usual guy," The woman on the bed spoke in a calm, peaceful voice that I found slightly unnerving. I glanced down at the book she was reading to find it was the bible, which fit into the description I'd gotten from the doctors outside the room.
"No, I'm filling in for him," I lied easily, and she seemed to accept it as I walked towards her. "So, are you feeling okay, Gloria? Any more messages from angels?"
"I've never felt better," She ignored the obvious skepticism in my voice as I asked that last question. "And no. If the question you want to ask me is if I'm stark-raving cuckoo for coco puffs, the answer is also no,"
"I didn't say that," I tried to defend myself, but even to my ears it sounded weak. The thing was, I did think she was crazy. The only reason I was in here was because a couple years ago I'd forged a doctor's licensee to get some much needed information on a case Dean and I were working. Sam had begged me to do this; he was the one that thought this was a hunt.
"It's all right. I know what people must think," She shrugged, smiling slightly.
"What about you? What do you think happened?" I questioned, genuinely curious about the answer. She seemed extremely calm for someone who'd murdered another person, but she also didn't appear to be prone to violence, which was more than a little confusing.
"I think what I saw was real," She replied confidently, making me shut the clipboard and throw it on the table at the far side of the room before sitting on the chair across from her.
"And what did you see?" I asked, and she smiled slightly again while I tried my best to keep the your-crazy and I-don't-believe-you tones out of my voice.
"It was all over the news," She evaded answering the question. "I stabbed a man in the heart,"
"I asked you what you saw. Not what you did," I brushed aside her attempt at dodging the question. "What did you see? What made you stab the man?"
"It was God's will," She spoke tranquilly as if she were telling me what was for dinner. Again, I found myself unnerved by the serenity of her voice.
"So he talked to you?" I asked, stifling the annoyance at how she was giving me minute bits of information at a time. She laughed airily at my question.
"I get the sense God's a little busy for house calls," She informed me, still giggling lightly. "No, he - he sent someone," I simply raised my eyebrows waiting for her to say it. "An angel," There we go. "It came to me in this beautiful white light, and it filled me with this… feeling," She sighed, her heart heavy with happiness and her eyes obtaining a far off look. "It's - it's hard to describe," She focused on me, shaking her head slightly.
"So the angel…" I began, not quite sure how to finish that thought.
"Spoke God's word," She supplied me, and I gave her a forced smile.
"And the word was to murder the man by stabbing him in the heart?" I checked, attempting to keep the skepticism out of my voice.
"I know it sounds strange," The woman acknowledged my point of view. "But what I did was very important," She continued, her voice gaining an undertone of passion. "I helped him smite an evil man. I was chosen…for redemption,"
"So the angel told you the name of a man and you went out and killed him?" I summarized, doubt lining my words.
"No," I raised my eyebrows as she shook her head. "The angel told me to wait for the sign, and the very next day, I saw it right beside the man's doorway, and I knew,"
"You said he was evil. What did he do?" I asked, but she shook her head gently.
"I just know what the angel told me - that this man was guilty to his deepest foundations. And that was good enough for me," She gave a small shrug, and I just nodded.
"Okay. We're done with this session," I stood, picking up the clipboard and heading to the door.
"You've prayed before," I turned as she called to me, and I narrowed my eyes at her. "I'm sorry… that it didn't work. It's like I said… God's a little busy for house calls," She smiled as she finished. I could tell she meant well, but it was the last thing I wanted to hear at that moment. I didn't speak, and, instead, chose to walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me. I descended the stairs of the psych ward and walked out the double doors into the sunshine. Sammy was leaned against the Impala, having insisted on coming with me even though there wasn't much he could do.
"Hey, what happened? How'd it go? What'd she say?" I held up a hand to cut short Sammy's greetings as I opened the driver's door, getting in and slamming it shut behind me.
"She basically told me what the newspaper said," I informed him as he sat down in the passenger's seat and shut the door. "She was visited by an angel that told her to kill the man. She did say that he gave her a sign, though. That wasn't in the papers,"
"What was the sign?" Sam asked me quickly, and I glanced at him with a frown. Why was he so gun ho on this case anyways? There were plenty of other ones we could've looked into.
"Something on his porch," I answered, shrugging slightly. "She said she saw the angel and was filled with this… feeling, and then the next day she saw a man, who the angel said was evil, and she killed him,"
"So, what're you thinking, then?" I glanced at Sammy as I drove. Was he serious?
"I'm thinking she popped one too many happy pills, thought she saw an angel telling her to kill someone, and the next day she saw the 'sign'," I employed air quotes as we stopped at a red light. Sammy gave a heavy sigh, making me glance at him briefly. "Sam, I really don't think this is a case," I didn't have a feeling of any kind, and I usually did when there was a case.
"It is. Trust me, okay?" I glanced at him again, biting my lip in thought. "Mel, come on, you owe me that much," This time, it was me who gave out the heavy sigh.
"Fine," I agreed at last. "I'll give it two days, and if nothing new has happened, I'm going to vote we leave," I knew if both Dean and I wanted to go after two days with no new developments, Sammy wouldn't be able to keep us here anymore. The three of us would pack up and hit the next town.
"Deal," Sammy nodded, relaxing into the seat as I parked the car in front of our motel room. We both got out, and I locked the car as Sam opened the room. Inside the room, Dean was laying on the bed with his eyes closed and headphones in, while the bed vibrated, massaging his body.
"Hey," Sam tried to get his attention, but he didn't look up. I walked over to him, leaning down and pressing my lips against his. I had to suppress a laugh when his body jerked in surprise, his eyes shooting open, before he smiled and began kissing me back. Sam let out a fake cough behind us, and I pulled away, remembering where I was.
"Hey," Dean grinned broadly as I straightened. "You got to try this. I mean, there really is magic in the magic fingers,"
"Dean, you're enjoying that way too much," Sam told his brother as I kicked off my shoes. "It's kind of making me uncomfortable," He added, making me laugh.
"What am I supposed to do? You both got me on lockdown here. I'm bored out of my skull," He complained, frowning at us.
"We weren't the bank robber on the eleven o'clock news," I pointed out, knowing Dean was getting irritated with having to be shut up in the motel a lot. "Besides, I was the one with the doctor's license. There was nothing you could've done,"
"And we couldn't risk you just walking into a government facility," Sam added to my point, but Dean just let out an annoyed noise from the back of his throat. Sam rolled his eyes waving a hand at him before turning away and walking into the bathroom. I stood from the bed, now barefoot, and glanced at the shut bathroom door before turning to Dean.
"You should really-" My words transformed into a gasp of surprise as he jerked up, snaked an arm around the waist, and pulled me down onto the bed beside him. My gasp turned into a laugh as I rested my head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around my waist. We had only been there for half a minute or so when there was a dull clink and the machine that was vibrating the bed slowly stopped.
"Damn it. That was my last quarter," Dean muttered before raising his voice to yell, "Hey, Sammy. You got any quarters?" "No," Sam stated from where he was washing his hands in the bathroom, his voice still containing the irritation from earlier. He walked out of the bathroom to sit on one of the seats.
"So, did you get in to see that crazy hooker?" Dean asked me as I got up to make myself some coffee.
"Gloria Sitnik," I corrected Dean. "And yeah, I did,"
"And we're not so sure she's crazy," Sam added, making me glance at him sharply. He looked back with a meaningful glance, causing me to sigh.
"But she seriously believes that she was… touched by an angel?" I turned from the coffee machine to see Dean was now up from the bed and leaning on a wall.
"Yeah, she does," I confirmed without a doubt. "Blinding light, feelings, the usual," I listed the highlights of my discussion with her.
"She's living in a locked ward, and she seemed totally at peace," Sam added, glancing at me for confirmation, and I nodded.
"Oh, yeah, you're right - sounds completely sane," Dean stated, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "What about the dude she stabbed?"
"Carl Gulley," I informed them, remembering his name from the papers. "Apparently she killed him cause he was evil," Taking the coffee and drinking it only to make a face. It was disgusting. Truly disgusting.
"Was he?" Dean questioned as I poured the coffee down the sink.
"We don't know," Sam answered for me. "We looked. We couldn't find any dirt on him," We'd searched before we went to the psych ward, for we'd thought that maybe we could get more information out of her if we knew something. I don't think it would've helped even if we had found something.
"He didn't have a criminal record," I began, leaning back on the counter behind me. "He had a job at the campus as a librarian, had lots of friends, was a churchgoer," Dean hummed thoughtfully at my words.
"So Gloria's just your standard-issue wacko?" Dean summed up, and I agreed with him one hundred percent. "I mean, she wouldn't be the first nut job in history to kill in the name of religion, know what I mean?" I opened my mouth to agree with him when Sam gave me a pointed look.
"Yeah, but she is the second in this town to murder someone and say an angel told them to," I pointed out. "It's odd enough that it's worth checking into,"
"Odd - yeah. Supernatural - maybe. But angels - I don't think so," Dean told us, glancing at the floor as he spoke.
"Why not?" Sam questioned, and I glanced at the floor as well, not wanting to meet his gaze. I was barely warming to the idea it was supernatural.
"Because they don't exist," I informed him, looking up from the ground. Sam stared at me for a moment before his eyes flicked to Dean and then back.
"Guys," He scoffed, glancing out the window before returning his gaze to us. "There's ten times as much lore about angels as there is about anything else we've ever hunted,"
"Hey, you know what? There's a ton of lore on unicorns, too. In fact, I hear that they ride on silver moonbeams and they shoot rainbows out of their ass,"
"Dean," I cut him off, wanting to stop the impending fight before it escalated.
"Wait," We both turned to look at Sammy as he slowly sank into a chair. "There's no such thing as unicorns?" He sounded heartbroken, and I couldn't help laughing aloud.
"That's cute," Dean stated sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Look, we're just saying that some things are just made up," I tried to make him understand, but he still just shook his head.
"And you two've got angels on the made up list?" He asked incredulously.
"Yep," Dean didn't sound at all sorry or confused about it.
"Why?" He questioned, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dean and I.
"Because we've never actually seen one," I pointed out. At least, that was the reason I had for not believing in angels. One of the reasons I had.
"So what?" Sam asked, his voice growing more incredulous with each word.
"So we believe in what we can see," Dean agreed with my point.
"Guys, we have seen things most people couldn't even dream about," He frowned at us, not understanding why we didn't believe in angels.
"You're right," I nodded, agreeing with him. "We've seen them. That's proof that they're real. But we've never seen anything that even looked like an angel,"
"Don't you think that if they existed, we would've crossed paths with them or at least known someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a demon or a spirit. You know, they find people a few fries short of a happy meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms," Dean finished his rant, his eyes darting around the room as he sat on the bed.
"Maybe," Sam conceded, unsure about how to respond to his brother's outburst. I walked around the bed Dean was sitting on to put my shoes on again.
"Can we just - I'm going stir-crazy. Hey, let's go by Gloria's apartment, huh?" I finished putting my shoes on as Dean stood up, beginning to pace.
"We were just there and got nothing," I informed him. "No sulfur or EMF,"
"And you sure there wasn't any fluffy, white wing feathers?" Dean questioned sardonically as I pulled him back down to sit beside me, his pacing making me jumpy like it always did. I knew Dean began to get sarcastic, twitchy, and annoyed when he was cooped up for too long.
"Gloria said the angel gave her a sign on Carl's porch. I wanted to swing by his place and see if the sign is still there," I remembered, having intentionally forgotten on the drive home.
"Could be something at his house," Dean hurriedly nodded, wanting to get out of the room. "It's worth checking out,"
"Hey, find anything yet?" I glanced up as I heard Dean call to me from the doorway of the motel room as he slammed it shut with his foot.
"Finally. I'm starving," I ignored his question, my eyes zeroing in on the chinese food he held in his hand while he grinned and set it down on the table in front of me before taking the seat across from where I was. I moved some of the books to make room for the food as he set the lo mien down in front of me. "What took you so long? Did you get lost driving three blocks?" I teased while he opened the box of fried rice. I opened the chopsticks as Dean went straight for the fork. In answer to my questions, he set down a napkin with a number on it. My heart sank, but I refused to let any expression show on my face.
"The waitress there. Mindy or something. Cute," Dean told me offhandedly, grinning cockily. "She has these-" I just looked at him with raised eyebrows, efficiently cutting off both his words and the gesture he was making towards his chest. John was off working a case in a nearby town, but he'd heard of a case up here as well. Since this town seemed to have the bigger body count, he'd sent Dean and I up here to check it out. Anyway, we were twenty-five. It wasn't as if we needed a babysitter for hunts anymore.
"So, did Mindy the waitress give you my change?" I questioned, trying to shove aside the all too familiar jealousy as Dean handed me the twenty dollar bill along with a few dimes. I shoved them into my pocket, taking a few more bites of lo mien before moving it out of the way slightly and focusing on the hunt. "Okay, so I did some research, and before the disappearances, there were a couple grave desecrations, but that was two weeks ago." My eyes scanned the few notes I'd taken to reach the really important information at the bottom. "There were three disappearances in the past week,"
"But the last one was different," Dean recalled through bites of bourbon chicken.
"Yeah," I confirmed with a nod. "There was a kid, Richie Smith. He said he saw a monster kill the victim, who…was his dad," My eyes flicked through the newspaper article for a brief moment before continuing. "They were coming back from a camping trip when they heard a noise in the woods. Dad went to see what it was and next thing you know…" I drew a line across my throat with my finger.
"Yikes," Dean summed up, sounding apathetic. He finished the rice before dusting off his hands and standing.
"Let's go talk to the kid," I stood as well, grabbing the lo mien and chopsticks before following Dean out the door.
"Dad's going to kill you," Dean announced as I slipped into the passenger's seat with the chinese food.
"He'll never know," I gave Dean a pointed look as I said those words, clearly warning him not to tell John. He shrugged and gunned the engine, pulling away from the motel parking spot. Dean cared about the Impala every bit as much as John, maybe more, but when it came to eating in it, he was much more lenient. We rode in silence for a moment as I finished the lo mien and made a mental note to throw it away once we arrived at the kid's house. I glanced sideways at Dean's face. His eyes seemed far away and his muscles were tense as his hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I talked to him a couple weeks ago, you know," I started, causing Dean to glance at me with a confused expression. "Sam,"
"Mel, I've told you-" He began in an angry tone.
"Dean, I don't understand why you won't talk to him. He didn't do anything wrong," I tried to reason with Dean, who turned his head to glare at me harshly.
"Didn't do anything wrong?" He echoed incredulously. "Mel, how can you say that! He ditched us!"
"For college. For his future," I argued, my eyebrows furrowing. We hadn't had this fight in a while, but Sam'd called me a few weeks ago to tell me how he'd been. "He wants to talk to you,"
"Dad would kill me. Speaking of, Dad would kill you if he knew you were still talking to him," I rolled my eyes, clenching my teeth as my anger started to rise.
"Who cares? It's Sammy! Sammy, Dean. The same Sammy who ate lucky charms every day for a month because he wanted to win money. The same Sammy who's scared of clowns. The same Sammy who you swore you'd protect. You're really gonna turn your back on him-"
"I'm not turning my back on him!" Dean snapped, cutting me off. "He turned his back on us when he walked out that door!"
"He still needs us!" I yelled, hating how Dean couldn't see that.
"Yeah? Well, we needed him. Where the hell was he then?" Dean jerked the gear into park and practically ripped open the door trying to get out. I slammed my palm into the dashboard and cursed before grabbing my lo mien box and getting out of the car as well. I dumped it in a trash can they had outside before going up the stairs to stand next to Dean on the porch.
"Hi, what can I do for you?" A middle-aged, blonde woman answered the door.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Special Agent Rhodes, and this is my partner, Special Agent Lorvett," Dean and I held up our badges for the woman to inspect before returning them to our back pockets. "We're here to talk to your son?"
"The police already spoke with him," She told us with a guarded expression.
"We're the FBI. It's just fact checking. I know it's an inconvenience, but the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you and your son can try to go back to a normal life," She regarded me for a moment before nodding, a determined expression on her face.
"Hey, Sam," I called to him as I stood on the second step of the porch and looked at the small figurine that was sitting to the right of the door. Dean and Sam turned to look at me as I gestured to the sculpted white angel. "I found the sign. It's really something," I ascended the last couple steps to walk on the porch, gazing into the windows.
"Well, I think we learned a valuable lesson. Always take down your christmas decorations after New Year's, or you might get filleted by a hooker from God," I laughed, descending the steps to rejoin Dean and Sam.
"I'm laughing on the inside," Sam muttered sarcastically, his mouth twisting into a frown before he began walking along the side of the house with Dean and I following. We stopped beside the porch, and suddenly my eyes fixed on the cellar doors.
"You know, Gloria's exact words were 'the man was guilty to his deepest foundations'," Dean glanced at me questioningly.
"You think she literally meant the foundation?" I shrugged, kneeling beside the lock that secured the chains around the rusty door handles. I picked it in no time, and Dean and Sam helped me heave the doors open. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the small flashlight I always carried and clicking it on before descending into the darkness. Dean, Sam, and I looked around for only a moment, but it was enough. I felt something. My skin began crawling, and my stomach twisted.
"Hey," Sam hissed, causing Dean and I to look up.
"Found something?" I questioned, moving to where Sam was pulling at something in the wall. "What's that?" Sam jerked it out of the wall, shining his light on it.
"It's a fingernail," Dean grabbed two shovels, and Dean and Sam began digging into the ground. Half an hour later we were standing above a pit that held a skeleton in it. "So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian,"
"Yeah, whatever made Gloria kill him, knew what it was doing," I admitted begrudgingly.
The police scanner's volume had been lowered to a dull hum after we'd heard another guy had been stabbed in the name of the lord. I was sitting at the table, trying to find anything I could about what was happening without researching angels. It wasn't angels. I glanced sideways at Dean, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, to see he was looking back at the massager. I'd given him a quarter earlier, and I had to admit, it was fun, but I wasn't about to waste all my quarters on that machine.
"Find anything?" Dean asked, boredom in his voice. I didn't blame him. I was bored out of my mind as well.
"Just some useless lore on angels," I answered with an annoyed sigh before leaning back in my chair and shutting Sam's laptop. I glanced at him to see him rubbing his eyes tiredly. "You should get some sleep," I knew he hadn't been sleeping very well lately, and we'd been jumping from hunt to hunt without rest. It was better for Sam and I; we could sleep in the car, but Dean usually insisted on driving.
"I'm fine," He answered gruffly, turning his head to look at the yellow sticky note with the victim's address. Before I could object, Sam walked through the door. "Did you bring quarters?" Was his first question. Sam glanced at the machine, frowning before his eyes met mine, and I shook my head at him.
"Dude, I'm not enabling your sick habit," Sam spoke harshly, throwing Dean the bag of food he'd brought. "You're like one of those lab rats who pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies," I laughed lightly at Sam's description of Dean.
"What are you talking about? I eat," He protested while he threw the food bag behind him.
"We got news," I informed Sam, getting back to the hunt.
"Me too," Sam answered.
"Three students have disappeared off the college campus this year," Sam told us, and I frowned, not liking where this was going. "All of them were last seen at the library,"
"Where Carl Gulley worked?" Sam nodded in confirmation, and my face twisted into an expression of disgust. "Sick bastard," Dean muttered, summing it up nicely.
"So Gloria's angel-" Sam began, earning looks from both me and Dean.
"Angel?" Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows.
"Okay, whatever this thing is," Sam chose his words more carefully.
"Whatever it is, it hit again," I cut in.
"What?" He asked in surprise.
"We've been listening to the police radio before you came back. There was a local drunk, Zach Smith. He rang the doorbell of a stranger's house last night and stabbed him in the heart," I related the information we'd overheard.
"I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?" Sam took a stab in the dark.
"Yep. Roma Downey made him do it," Dean answered sarcastically, rising and going over to the board where we'd posted the note. "We got the victim's address," He took it off and held it up for Sam to see. Three minutes later, we were in the car heading for the man's house, which was now a crime scene. Dean parked a few blocks away, and we came up behind the house, jumping onto the dumpster before climbing over the gate. Sam jammed the switchblade up through the window, slowly flipping the lock before opening it. He slipped in first, quickly followed by me and then Dean came in last.
Sammy went straight for the computer while I went to the home office and searched through his drawers, trying to find anything that might point to an unholy life. Dean went to the bookshelves to try to discern anything from what was lying around his living room.
"Find anything?" Sam questioned as Dean came into view, flipping through a magazine.
"Frank liked his catalogue shopping. That's about all I got," He summarized his fifteen minutes of searching while I flipped through some files I found while I leaned on the table where Sam was working. "Either of you find anything?"
"Not really," I threw the file onto the counter with an annoyed sigh.
"Not much here either," Sam agreed with both of us. "Except he's got this one locked file on his computer that…" He trailed off in thought. "Hold on," I pushed off the table to look at what he was doing on the computer. He typed in the password and access was granted. A list of emails came up from a girl named Jennifer.
"My god," I breathed as the e-mails continued to load. There was at least fifty, if not more.
"What?" Dean questioned, coming around to Sam's other side to see what we were seeing.
"He's got all these e-mails, dozens, to this lady named Jennifer," He opened some of them, and my face scrunched in disgust.
"This lady who's only thirteen," I pointed out, leaning away from the laptop.
"Oh, I don't want to hear this," Dean sounded as repulsed as I felt.
"Looks like they met in a chat room," Sam deduced, flipping through the emails. "These are pretty personal, guys. Look at that," He clicked on another one. "Setting up a time and place to meet,"
"Great," Dean muttered sarcastically.
"Wait," I clicked on the email that set up when and where they were going to meet. "That's today," I took a deep breath and let it out shakily as I realized that this 'angel' or whatever the hell it was probably saved that girl's life.
"Well, I guess if your gonna stab someone, good timing," Dean shrugged, walking around to the opposite end of the table. "I don't know, guys. This is weird. I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, like a-" Dean searched to find the words.
"Avenging angel?" Sam supplied, making me frown and Dean turn away. "Well, how else do you explain it? Three guys not, connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart?" Sam glanced back at me as he spoke, but I didn't meet his eyes. Mine were too busy scanning the room, searching for anything that could explain what was happening. Anything except angels. "At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy-"
"Wait," I cut off Sam's rant, making both him and Dean turn to look at me as I walked around the table and to a bulletin board. "Carl Gulley was a churchgoer," I took a flyer off the bulletin board. "It was Our Lady of the Angels, right?"
"Uh… yeah, I think so," Sam replied as Dean looked over my shoulder at the flyer I was holding.
"Of course that would be the name," I had to agree with him. It was kind of a coincidence.
"They went to the same church," I held up the flyer to show Sammy. "Looks like they are connected after all,"
"Come on," Dean was all too eager to follow the lead to the church, and we headed back the way we'd come, walking to the car before driving away quickly.
"Hey, I think I got something," Dean and I had been sitting in silence for the better part of twenty minutes. After the we'd finished talking to the boy, we'd talked to the mom a bit before leaving. We then visited the victims' families before going to the library to check out some books on various monsters and mythology. Nothing had really popped until now.
"A ghoul?" Dean questioned, leaning over my shoulder to see the book I was reading.
"Yeah. They feed off of the dead but can occasionally come after the living. They take the form of the people they eat, memories and everything," I relayed the information I had read, trying to ignore how close Dean was to me.
"Hang on. Didn't the families say the victims were acting strange before they disappeared? Not quite themselves?" He remembered, and I nodded quickly, growing more excited as the hunt began to come together.
"That fits. The ghoul must eat the person, then become that person for a short time before finding another human to snack on," Dean leaned back, thinking for a moment.
"So it could be anyone?" Dean began to pace as he asked the question. Something was nagging on the back of my mind, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "We won't know who it was until they go missing," Suddenly, I got it.
"My god," I breathed, making Dean's eyes snap to me. "The kid,"
"What?" His eyebrows drew together in confusion.
"The kid," I repeated, and Dean's face cleared as understanding dawned on him. He began rummaging through the files for the police report we'd printed. "Richie Smith. His mom said he'd been acting weird ever since his father died. Why would the ghoul leave him alive? It makes no sense. According to the lore, ghouls actually prefer kids,"
"You think it's him?" Dean questioned, his eyes scanning the police report.
"I don't know," I told him truthfully. "I think it's the best lead we've had in the past three days,"
"Is there anyway to test it?" I shook my head, suddenly annoyed.
"Not without killing the kid… if it is a kid," Silence engulfed us for a moment before I spoke again. "Apparently, decapitation is the most surefire way to destroy one,"
"Okay," Dean grabbed the keys from the nightstand and started for the door. "Let's go," I stood, throwing on my jacket and heading after him. Silently, I prayed he had a plan that didn't involve almost killing a possibly innocent kid. The ride out was only ten or fifteen minutes, and before long we were banging on the Mrs. Smith's door again. There was no answer. Dean knocked again only to come up with nothing. I descended the porch steps and walked around the house to a window. I peered in, and my heart nearly stopped at what I saw. Mrs. Smith was tied to her kitchen table while her child walked around her, blood on his lips. Dean swore behind me and sprinted to the front of the house again while I followed closely behind.
Dean kicked the door in, brandishing the machete that he'd taken from the trunk. I bolted past him and into the kitchen, ready for the creature to charge me. When I came into view of the kitchen table, the creature was nowhere to be found, and Mrs. Smith was choking and screaming on the table. I rushed to her side, cutting her right arm loose and checking her pulse to make sure it was strong. There was a lot of blood and cuts blemishing her skin, and I was worried it might be too much.
"Mel!" At Dean's shout, I spun to see the creature to my left. It slammed it's fist into my stomach before I could make a move with the machete. It then grabbed my arm and threw me across the room. For a moment, I was airborne then something slammed into my head hard. I was vaguely aware that there was something hard under my hands and feet. I tried to push myself up, but the world swayed sickeningly, making me collapse again. I blinked, forcing my eyes open to watch the scene unfolding before me. The creature was approaching me slowly, and someone was standing in front of me. Dean. Dean was standing in front of me. I tried to yell at him to leave, to get out of the way, but my mouth wouldn't work. The creature attacked, and Dean grappled with it for a moment before they both fell to the floor, rolling over.
"Dean!" The word sounded strange and slurred even to my own ears. I pushed myself off the floor again, ignoring the sudden wave of fatigue that crashed over me, making my limbs heavy. The creature was on top of Dean, punching him repeatedly, but my eyes focused on the machete that was only a few feet away from me. Slowly, I attempted to crawl towards it, but the world tilted, almost sending me back to the floor. With a massive effort, I managed to reach the knife. I slid it across the floor towards Dean, hilt first. Dean's fingers closed around the blade and with a sickening thunk, the ghoul's head lay on the floor. Then, I did collapse onto the cold floor. I just wanted to sleep.
"Mel?" I could barely hear Dean's voice over the ringing in my ears. He picked me up and propped me against the wall, cradling my face in his hands. I tried to get my eyes to focus on him, but they wouldn't listen.
"The woman," I mumbled, feeling as though I were drunk. And not the good kind. "Is she okay?" Dimly, I realized that I had hit my head really hard. Dean left my side for a moment, and I looked to my left to see a broken bookshelf. Maybe that was what I hit? I was too tired to think about that, I leaned my head back on the wall. I was so tired.
"Hey, no sleeping, okay?" Dean's face was in front of me again. "Just focus on me," I looked up at the table with the bleeding woman on it. "She' s fine. I called an ambulance. They're coming for both of you, alright? You're going to be fine. Just stay with me,"
"You need to go," I got out, trying to push him away, only to find my muscles were completely drained of energy. I ended up just putting my hands on his arms. "The police…"
"It's fine. I'll think of something," He brushed off my concern, and I frowned.
"Dean-" I began, intent on making him see reason.
"Mel," He cut me off with determination in his voice. "I'm not leaving you. Everything's going to be fine, okay?" Even thought my mind felt like it was coated in a thick layer of fog. Even though Dean's face was beaten and bruised. Even though the woman next to us just lost her husband and child in the same day. I believed him.
"Okay," I whispered softly as the darkness finally won.
"So, you're interested in joining the parish?" The priest reiterated what we'd said earlier as we walked into spacious the church.
"Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday," Dean explained.
"Where'd you say you lived before?" The priest asked.
"Premont," I informed him easily as Sam grappled with the name. "Texas," I clarified as the priest gave me a confused look.
"Really? That's a nice town. St. Teresa's parish," The priest turned to face us as he spoke, and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "You must know the priest there,"
"Sure, yeah. No, it's Father O'Malley," Dean made up a name on the spot.
"I know a father Shaughnessy," He raised his eyebrows at the three of us.
"Shaughnessy, exactly. What did I say?" Dean frowned in mock confusion glancing and me and Sam.
"You know, we're just happy to be here now, father," Sam spoke genuinely, trying to cover for Dean's slip up.
"And we're happy to have you," The priest seemed more responsive to Sam than Dean or myself. "We could use some young blood around here,"
"Listen, I have to ask. I mean no offense, but the neighborhood…" I let the sentence hang, knowing the priest would know what I meant.
"It's gone to seed a little. There's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here is so important, like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime, you work your butt off,"
"Yeah, we heard about the murders," Dean told him, and the priest's face dropped.
"The victims were parishioners of mine. I've known them for years," The man's face was stone as he spoke about them, and I couldn't help but wonder if he'd known about how they spent their free time.
"And the killers said an angel made them do that?" Sam checked.
"Yes. Misguided souls. To think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder - it's tragic," He shook his head as he spoke in an almost grieving tone.
"So, you don't believe in angels?" I asked curiously.
"Oh, no, I absolutely believe," He replied promptly. "It kind of goes with the job description,"
"Father, that's Michael, right?" Sam questioned, and my eyes followed his to the painting of a man descending from the heavens with a glowing sword in his hands.
"That's right," He confirmed, turning to face the painting. "The archangel Michael with the flaming sword - the fighter of demons, holy force against evil,"
"So, they're not all really the hallmark-card version that everybody thinks?" Sam asked, and I understood where he was going with this. "They're fierce, right? Vigilant,"
"Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful, but, yes, a lot of scripture paints angels as God's warriors," He confirmed Sam's thoughts. "'An angel of the lord appeared to them, the glory of the lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified.' Luke 2:9," I glanced at Dean just in time to see him flinch slightly.
"I think it's time we go," I suggested tightly, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.
"Well, thank you for speaking with us, Father," Sam thanked him as we descended the steps of the church.
"It's my pleasure. Hope to see you again," He answered, and something caught my eye on the side of the steps.
"Father, what's that for?" I inquired, pointing to the flowers and cross that lay on the side. It was a small little shrine with candles, pictures and everything.
"Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here," The man explained, his voice growing sorrowful.
"Was?" Dean picked up on the use of past tense immediately.
"Passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt," The priest told us sadly.
"When was this?" I questioned.
"Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys," He elaborated on Father Gregory's death, making me feel almost guilty for asking about it.
"I'm sorry," Sam gave his condolences.
"Yeah, me too. He was a good friend," The priest's eyes focused on the memorial for a long moment before he looked back at us. "I didn't even have time to administer his last rites, but like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. And ever since he died, I've been praying my heart out,"
"For what?" Sam inquired.
"For deliverance… from the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose," He glanced around at the surrounding houses and streets before fixing his eyes on us again.
"Well, padre, thanks," Dean shook his hand. "We'll see you again," Sam and I shook his hand as well before he headed back into the church. I walked over to the shrine and picked up his photograph. "Well, it's all starting to make sense. Devoted priest dies a violent death - that's vengeful-spirit material right there,"
"Yeah, and he knew all the victims cause they went to church here," I added, warming up to the logical explanation. "Hell, they probably confessed their wrongdoings to him. That's how he knew who was guilty,"
"then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right?" I rolled my eyes at Sam's explanation. "Right about the time all this started happening?"
"Oh, come on, man. What's your deal?" Dean finally asked him the question that had been running through both our mines for awhile now.
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, frowning at us, even though I suspected he knew exactly what we were talking about.
"Look, we're skeptics, all right? But when did you become so religious?" I asked, not sure what to make of this knew side of Sam. I'd known the kid all my life, but I'd never known that he was into Christianity and God and all that stuff.
"She's right, man. Since the get-go you've been willing to buy this angel crap. I mean, what's next? Are you gonna start praying every day?" Dean asked sarcastically as I put the picture back.
"I do," My eyes snapped to Sam's face as he said those words.
"What?" Dean and I spoke simultaneously.
"I do pray every day," He repeated, and my mouth opened but no sound came out. "I have for a long time," Silence enveloped us for a couple long moments that seemed like an infinity.
"The things you learn about a guy," Dean mused, and more silence followed his words. "Come on. Let's go check out Father Gregory's grave," He took my hand, pulling me away from Sam and up the stairs. I followed without argument, still mulling over what Sam had just told me. None of us spoke as we walked through the hallway to Father Gregory's grave. "Who would've thought," Dean muttered so low I almost didn't catch it.
"It's not that crazy, Dean," He stopped moving, pulling my hand to make me spin to face him.
"Have you prayed before?" He questioned, and I was silent for a moment.
"Eight times," I answered finally, knowing exactly how many times it had been. "You?" I knew despite how he felt about religion, he had prayed before. I'd caught him once.
"Nine," He replied, flinching at the memories.
"You should tell him," I stated softly, taking his other hand in mine.
"He was too young," Dean's face held an expression I was all too familiar with. He was remembering that night.
"But you weren't," I reflected. "And I wasn't," I added, glancing at our hands before looking back up into his eyes. "It would help him understand," I knew Sam knowing about what Mary used to tell us before she tucked us in at night would change his opinion about this hunt. Suddenly, I heard a shaking sound, like stones rumbling. I tensed and glanced back the way we'd come.
"What?" Dean picked up on my worry instantly.
"Something's wrong," Dean let go of my hands and walked towards the door quickly, keeping me behind him. "Sam? What's taking so long?" I called as Dean opened the door only to freeze as we saw Sammy's crumpled form lying on the ground.
"Sammy?" Dean's yelled gruffly, worry and fear in his voice as we sprinted to where Sam was lying motionlessly on the ground. "Sammy! Hey!" I grabbed his jacket collar, shaking him until he coughed and began to sit up.
"Are you alright?" I questioned, not bothering to try to contain the concern in my voice.
"Yeah," He responded breathlessly, nodding. "Yeah. I'm okay," My eyes met Dean's over Sam's head, and I stood, grabbing one of Sam's hands as Dean helped pull him to his feet.
"Come on," I led Sam into a back room as Dean followed us, making sure no one came in and saw where we were going. "It happened, didn't it?" I questioned as Dean shut the door behind us.
"Yeah," Sam smiled elatedly. "Yeah. Guys, I saw an angel," My smile fell to form a frown.
"You…" Dean didn't bother finishing that thought, and, instead, unscrewed his flask, offering it to Sam. "All right, come on,"
"I don't want a drink," Sam told us in an incredulous tone. Dean shrugged, offering some to me, which I accepted before handing it back to him. He took a long drink before putting it away. "So, what makes you think you saw a, uh, angel?" He asked, unsure of how to interrogate his brother.
"I just… it appeared before me, and I just- this feeling washed over me, you know? Like - like peace, like grace," I frowned at his shoddy explanation of what happened.
"Yeah, okay ecstasy boy. Maybe we'll get you some glow sticks and a nice Dr. Seuss hat, huh?" Dean joked, making me laugh while Sam frowned at us.
"Guys, I'm serious," Sam's words efficiently cut off my laughter. "It spoke to me. It knew who I was,"
"Sam, it's a spirit. It's not the first one who can read it's victim's minds," I pointed out logically.
"Let me guess. You were personally chosen to smite some sinner?" Dean took a wild stab in the dark. "You just got to wait for some divine bat signal. Is that it?"
"Yeah, actually," Sam agreed.
"You didn't happen to ask what this 'bad guy' did, did you?" I asked, not wanting to get into this fight again with either of them.
"Actually, I did, Mel, and the angel told me. He hasn't done anything… yet. But he will," Dean got up from the chair he'd sat down in, shaking his head at Sam's explanation.
"Oh, this is… this is… I don't believe this," I didn't blame Dean for being skeptical about this. Sam had just admitted to being fully ready to murder a man who hadn't even done anything wrong yet.
"Guys, the angel hasn't been wrong yet," Sam argued with us. "Someone's gonna do something awful, and I can stop it,"
"By killing him?" I asked incredulously.
"You know, you're supposed to be bad too, Sam. Maybe I should stop you right now," My eyes snapped to Dean's face in wide surprise.
"You know what, Dean? I don't understand. why can't either of you even consider the possibility?" His voice rose to a yell as his eyes flicked between Dean and I.
"That this is some sort of angel?" I asked, frowning. Even saying it sounded ridiculous.
"Yes! Maybe we're hunting an angel here, and we should stop. Maybe this is God's will," Sam shouted at us, his voice softening at the last sentence. I sat down, not having the energy to stand anymore. This argument was going nowhere.
"Okay, all right. You know what? I get it. You've got faith," Dean told him, sitting down next to me. "That's - hey, good for you. I'm sure it makes things easier. I'll tell you who had faith like that - mom," My eyes found Dean's face, wide with surprise. I hadn't thought he'd take my advice so soon. "She used to tell me and Mel when she tucked us in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to us,"
"You never told me that," Sammy spoke softly.
"What's to tell?" Dean shrugged, slipping his fingers through mine. "She was wrong. There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power. There's no God. There's just chaos and violence, and random, unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere and rips you to shreds. You want me to believe in this stuff? I'm gonna need some hard proof. You got any? Well, I do. Proof that we're dealing with a spirit," Dean got up and we walked over to Father Gregory's grave to see thick, ropey vines growing on it.
"That looks like-" Sam began.
"Wormwood," I supplied, not bothering to wait for Sam to figure it out. "It's associated with the dead, more specifically the ones that are not fully at peace,"
"I don't see it growing anywhere else," Dean added, looking around for emphasis. "Except over the murdered priest's marker," Sam looked around as well, and I didn't miss the spark of hope in his eyes as he did.
"It's him, Sammy," I told him without a shadow of doubt in my voice.
"Maybe," Sam conceded, making me frown at him.
"Maybe?" Dean echoed incredulously.
"Guys, I don't know what to think," He spoke truthfully.
"Do you need more proof?" I questioned, an idea forming in my mind. "Cause we can give you more proof,"
"How?" He asked, clearly thinking that wasn't possible.
"By summoning Gregory's spirit," I replied, and both boys frowned at me as if I were crazy.
"What?" I glanced at Sam calmly. "Here? In the church?"
"Yeah," My eyes flicked to Dean, who stood up and helped me up as well. "We just need a few odds and ends and that séance ritual in Dad's journal," He backed my plan.
"A séance, great," Sam laughed sarcastically as he followed us out of the room. "I hope Whoopi's available,"
"That's funny, actually," Dean stopped, causing Sam and me to turn. "If Father Gregory's spirit is around, the séance will bring him right to us. If it's him, then we'll put him to rest,"
"But if it is an angel, like you think, it won't show," I concluded, glancing at Sam to see if he'd go along with the plan.
"Exactly," Dean agreed. "It's one of the perks of the job. We don't have to operate on faith. We can know for sure. Don't you want to know for sure?" Sam glanced around for a moment, and I could see the unease in his eyes before he finally nodded.
I let out a small cough that seemed to shake my body… or maybe it was already shaking. Slowly, my eyes opened, and I squinted at the harsh light that met my eyes. I turned my head to the right to see a heartbeat monitor and an IV going into my arm. I let out a small groan and sat up, my vision clearing. I was alone in the room in nothing but a hospital gown. My eyes fixed on the jeans and shirt that were thrown over the chair in the corner. That must've been what I was wearing when I'd hit my head. The details of it were fuzzy, but I thought I could remember most of what happened. Dean was injured too. Dean.
"Miss, you can't do that!" The nurse came rushing into my room, and I stopped her from helping me with a hand.
"Look, I feel better, alright?" I told her just as a doctor walked into my room.
"You're awake!" She exclaimed in surprise. "We thought you'd be asleep for at least another day," I sat up in the bed, having taken all the needles out of my arms. "You have a concussion. Not severe, so that's good. I'd say it's moderate to mild. The hospital is ready to release you as soon as we run some tests. Just standard. I can do them right now if you like. It'll only take a moment,"
"Yes, thank you," I nodded for her to go ahead. "There was a man with me. Do you know where he is?"
"I think he went to the chapel," My eyebrows rose almost to my hairline. Dean was in the chapel? True to her word, the doctor only took a few minutes to check and make sure everything was fine before she gave me the okay.
"Hey, um… there was also a woman with us. Do you know what happened to her?" The doctor's face closed and morphed into an expression I knew all too well.
"I'm very sorry. She died on the table. There was nothing we could do. Her bleeding was too extensive," I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. We'd failed. The entire family had died because we'd failed.
"It's alright. I didn't know her that well," I offered a strained smile before going into the bathroom to change. I felt much, much better being in my normal clothes. "Excuse me," I stopped the first nurse I saw. "Could you direct me to the chapel please?" She pointed me in the right direction, and it only took me a couple of minutes to find it. Inside it was empty except for one man sitting in a middle row with his hands clasped in front of him, elbows leaning on the seat in front. He'd risked his life to save mine. Even though that kid was half his size, it was twice as strong. We'd been broken up for seven years now, and he was still doing the same thing. Sacrificing his life to save mine. "Hey," I called to him, and he spun around, standing quickly.
-3rd Person-
"Mel," Dean's face broke out into a relieved grin, and he felt as though a weight had just been taken off his heart. She was okay. He took two quick steps towards her before pulling her into his arms tightly, ignoring how his bruises protested. She hugged him back equally as hard as he buried his head into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. The doctor had said it was touch and go. There might be internal bleeding. If she didn't wake up in the next three days, they said she probably wouldn't. She pulled back, and he reluctantly let her.
"Dean…" She began, only to trail off as she took in his face. In the day she'd been out, he'd healed but only slightly. He had a cut on his cheek where the ghoul had slashed him with his own machete. His other cheek was black and blue down to his jaw. He had another cut on his hairline, but that one had been stitched up and was already almost healed. She trailed the bruise with her finger so lightly that he barely even felt any pain. "You shouldn't have stayed. That thing could've killed you. Or the police could've figured it out," She spoke softly, her eyes fixed on the bruise that she knew was causing him pain.
"I wasn't going to leave you," He smiled at how, after all this time, she still thought that him leaving her to save himself was even an option. "You were in trouble," He suddenly became aware of how his arms had never really left her waist. Her face was only a foot or so from his own. This was the time to make a bad joke. She would laugh, pull away. Never know what he wanted to do. What he really wanted to do. This time was different, though. She wasn't pulling away from him like she usually did. He barely had time to think about it when, suddenly, her lips were on his. He froze in shock. She began to pull away, but his arms wrapped around her waist tightly, and he kissed her back passionately. They stumbled back until her back hit the chapel wall, her lips feeling like heaven against his.
I can't do this anymore. The memory slammed into him like a tidal wave. I don't love you anymore, I'm sorry. The image of her tears that day. Of his pain. He couldn't go through that again. She was just happy to be alive. It was just adrenaline to her. He'd saved her, and she was grateful. He pulled away, looking anywhere but her.
"I can't," He muttered, taking a step away from her and trying to force his mind from her lips. Then he was gone, out the door, running his hands through his hair. Damn it. What did he do? Things had been normal for the past couple of years. What had he done?
Mel sunk to the floor of the chapel as she heard Dean's footsteps recede. She'd waited too long. Way too long. Seven years too long. A single tear made it's way down her face as she thought about what could have been.
-1st Person-
"Guys…" Sam began, carrying the bag of supplies we needed out of the store. "All right. I'll admit. We've gone pretty ghetto with the spell work before, but this takes the cake," I had to agree with Sam on this one. "I mean, a spongebob place mat instead of an altar cloth?"
"We'll just put it spongebob-side-down," Dean suggested, making me laugh lightly as we began to walk down the sidewalk.
"Hey, that's it," I turned back to see Sam staring at a guy with a garbage bag full of food waiting to cross the street. "That's the sign," He now pointed to the guy.
"Where?" Dean turned to look at the guy as well. It was pretty much just a regular, ordinary guy waiting to cross.
"Right there. Right behind that guy," I turned to fix Sam with a concerned look. "That's him, guys, and we have to stop him," Sam started towards him only to have me catch his arm and haul him back.
"Hang on a second," I ordered him, leaving no room for his arguments.
"What are you doing?" Dean was in front of him as well now, helping me push him back from the guy.
"If you think we're letting you go off and kill somebody because the ghost of Christmas Future told you too, you're more insane than we are," I told him, and he frowned at me. "And we're going to perform a summoning spell with a spongebob placemat,"
"Listen, Mel, I'm not going to kill him," I relaxed slightly at his words. "I'm going to stop him,"
"Define 'stop'," Dean didn't look convinced that his brother wasn't going to kill the man. "I mean, what are you gonna do?" Sam glanced back at the man getting into his car.
"Come on, please. He's gonna hurt someone. You know it," Sam begged us.
"Dean, he's right," I glanced up at him from where I still had my hands out to stop Sam from following the man. "The spirit hasn't been wrong yet,"
"All right. Come on," Dean finally relented, and I followed him to his side of the car. He opened the door and I slid into the driver's seat and then over into the passenger's while Dean seemed to accept that I was coming and shut the door behind him. Sam frowned at me through the window.
"Hey! Open the door," He jiggled the door, and I glanced at Dean before looking back at Sam.
"We're not letting you kill anyone, Sam," Dean called to him, and I could see the anger in his eyes.
"We've got this, okay? We won't let him hurt anyone. You do the séance and get rid of Gregory," I tried to reason with him, but I could tell from his face he was still pissed.
"Dean," He tried, but Dean only gunned the engine. "Mel," He pleaded, but I avoided his gaze and buckled my seatbelt.
"What could this guy do?" Dean mused as the car stopped, and we stopped along with it. The man got out with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and met a woman halfway down the stairs. He gave her the flowers, and she got into the car.
"Is he going on a date?" As soon as I asked the question, a sinking feeling occurred in the pit of my stomach. There was only one thing the spirit could've meant by it was something he was going to do.
"Mel…" Dean started, but I just shook my head.
"I'm fine," I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the thoughts that haunted me. "Let's just keep following him," We continued to follow him until he turned down a street and seemingly disappeared.
"Damn it!" Dean snapped, hitting the steering wheel with his hand.
"It's fine. I'm going to find them," Dean's eyes snapped to me as I shut mine.
"What're you talking about?" His voice faded into the background as I expanded my hearing. It was almost like a radar, picking up noises from different places and people.
"Honey, up for a late dinner?" Nope. I expanded it further, looking for disturbances. High pitches. Anything out of the ordinary.
"Who's she?!" Definitely not. I tried to avoid houses while still looking for any screams or cries.
"I said I was sorry!" A male's voice and a thunk that sounded like a car being locked.
"Please…" A woman's voice was whimpering. There was a clink of a knife being drawn, and my heart sped up.
"It's to our right," I couldn't even hear myself talking, I was so focused on the sounds that were coming from the car. "They're at the end of the alley. Take the next right," I instructed Dean as I listened to the two.
"No," The man sounded annoyed and there were a few smacking sounds. They were struggling for control. "Stop it!" The loud shattering of glass broke my concentration, and my eyes flew open. I looked out the windshield to see Dean beating up the guy that was about to rape the girl. I hurried out of the Impala and to Dean's side, clicking the unlock button before running around the hood to help the young woman out of the car.
"Are you okay?" I questioned, grabbing her arm and mentally checking her for injuries. She seemed to be unhurt.
"Are you okay?" Dean was beside us now, grabbing her arm as well and echoing my question.
"Thank god," She wept just as the car the rapist was in drove away.
"Damn it," Dean swore as I sprinted to the driver's side of the Impala and got in, slamming the door behind me. I gunned the engine with the keys that Dean had neglected to take out of the car. Dean shouted something back at the girl before pulling open the passenger's door and jumping in. I slammed down on the accelerator. "Jesus Christ! Don't kill us!" Dean shouted as I gained on the black car in front of us. I shot across the intersection without bothering to glance at the light. The rapist turned right, so I drifted around the corner, making the turn perfectly. Suddenly, a truck veered across the road, into our lane, causing the rapist to jerk the wheel left and go down a small, grassy hill.
"Hang on," I instructed, ignoring Dean's protests and following the car down the hill. Thankfully, the rapist jerked the wheel and turned back on the road with us following close behind. Suddenly, right as we were approaching the intersection, the car in front of us swerved, causing a pole it was carrying to come loose and fall off. It flew like a spear straight through the rapist's windshield and the car came to a jerky stop. I slammed on the breaks, nearly hitting it. I pulled up next to it, and Dean got out of the car quickly while I just stared at the man, who was now a corpse with a steel pipe jutting out from his chest. Slowly, I got out of the car and walked around it to stand beside Dean, who wrapped a tight arm around my waist, pulling me to him.
"Come on," I spoke quietly to him, glancing at the disappearing truck. "We should go before someone calls the police and sees us here," I whispered, pulling him away from the scene.
"Yeah," He stopped me from going to the driver's seat. "I'm driving," I couldn't even manage a smile before getting into the passenger's seat and riding away. I sat next to Dean with his arm around my shoulders and my head resting on his bicep. "You know I love you, right?" He glanced down at me as he spoke.
"I know," I murmured, turning my head to kiss his cheek lightly before pressing my lips to his shoulder.
"You said you've prayed eight times," My heart sunk at where this conversation was going. "Do you remember them?"
"Three were for you," I told him, squeezing my eyes shut as I attempted to block out the memories. "Two for Jez, one for my dad, one for John and one for Sam," Dean pulled up in front of the motel, and we just sat there for a moment in silence.
"Maybe they are real," He suggested what had been running through both of our minds the entire trip back here.
"Maybe," I agreed. "But until we know for certain, it's safer to assume they don't," I moved away from him to get out of the car and stand, slamming the door behind me. He stood as well, locking the car before shutting the door. I opened the motel room, walking in the see Sammy already packing up his things.
"How was your day?" Dean asked as I grabbed my duffel, setting it next to Sammy's, and began packing as well, eager to get out of this town.
"You were both right," He sounded so broken that I wished it had been an angel. "It wasn't an angel. It was Gregory," Dean pulled out his flask, taking a drink from it before handing it to Sam, who accepted. He offered it to me, but I shook my head, holding up a hand. "I don't know, I just…" He slowly sunk into the chair behind him. "I wanted to believe…so badly," I met Dean's hurt eyes, and I knew we were both wishing the same thing. We were both wishing Sammy could have had a normal life. "It's so damn hard to do this - what we do - I mean… you two have each other. I'm all alone, you know? There's so much evil out in the world, I feel like I could drown in it. And when I think about my destiny - our destiny-" He looked at me as he spoke. "When I think about how we could end up…"
"Yeah, well, neither of you should worry about that, all right? I'm watching out for both of you," He glanced at me and then back to Sammy.
"Yeah, I know you are," Sam told him as he sat on the table. "But you're just one person, Dean, and I needed to think that there was something else watching, too, you know?"
"There still might be, Sam," I comforted him, hating the way his eyes were shining with unshed tears. "Just because we didn't find it here, doesn't mean there isn't some… higher power or greater good,"
"You don't even believe that, Mel," He shook his head sadly. "I just wanted to think that maybe…"
"Maybe what?" Dean prompted him gently.
"Maybe we could be saved," His eyes raised to find mine as he spoke, and I was aware of Dean's eyes flicking between us. "But, you know, that just clouded my judgement, and you're right. I mean, we got to go with what we know with what we can see right there in front of our own two eyes,"
"Well, it's funny you say that," Dean started, but paused for a moment.
"Why?" Sam asked, looking at his brother and then me in confusion. I met Dean's eyes, remembering the freak accident we'd just witnessed right there in front our own two eyes.
"Gregory's spirit was well informed, I guess," I told him. "The guy in the car was a bad guy. We barely got there in time,"
"What happened?" Sam questioned softly.
"He's dead," Dean answered.
"Did you…" Sam's eyes flicked between Dean and I.
"No. We didn't," I replied evenly. "But how he died…"
"If we hadn't seen it with our own two eyes we never would have believed it," Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise at Dean's statement. "I don't know what to call it,"
"What?" I knew what he was going to say next, and I wasn't sure I was completely ready to hear it.
"Maybe…" He took a deep breath, glancing at me. "Maybe God's will,"