**Hey! So sorry about not getting to this update sooner. I've been really backed up on stuff, and on top of that this was a really hard chapter to write. This is the new hardest chapter to write (beat out Route 666 and Unusual Suspects). I probably wont be able to for the next couple of weeks, so I apologize in advance for that. I'm really looking forward to writing the season finale though! It's going to be good! Thank you to all my fans! It means the world to me when you PM or review about this story!**
Folsom Prison Blues
I crossed my arms over my chest as I leaned my back on the passenger door of the Impala and regarded the museum with narrowed, worried eyes. Behind me, I heard Dean get out of the car as well while Sam slammed his back door shut, his eyes sharing my wariness as he, too, scrutinized the building. I shifted my feet as Dean jogged around the car to the back, opening the trunk to pull out a couple of key items. This stunt had to be at least somewhat believable.
"Thanks," I tore my eyes from the building to fix on Sam as I heard his sarcastic mutter. Dean had just handed him a flashlight that he'd need to use to see in the darkness of the museum.
"I don't like this," I spoke the words for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour. It was true. This was definitely one of the stupider plans we'd gone through with. Not that we didn't usually go through with stupid plans, but when we did, I was with the two boys, so there was a slight comfort in knowing that the three of us had each other's backs. This time was different.
"It's going to be fine," Dean reassured me with his signature arrogant smirk gracing his lips. I bit my lip and frowned, my eyes flicking back to the looming building that stood in front of us.
"Yeah," I agreed, obvious doubt lining my voice. "Here," I handed Dean the map of the museum I'd grabbed out of the car, knowing he'd need it later, before I hugged Sam tightly. "Don't let him do anything unusually stupid," I warned him, making Sammy laugh and Dean shoot me a mock glare.
"I can't promise anything," Sam replied, mirth briefly overtaking the worry in his brown eyes.
"Hey, this plan is going to work," Dean sounded confident as he smiled slightly despite everything. He opened his mouth to continue, but whatever he was going to say was lost as I pressed my lips to his urgently. I pulled away, both of us breathing unevenly as his thumb traced my jawline lightly.
"Stay safe," I practically begged him as his forehead rested against mine, my fingers sliding down to brush his cheek lightly. "Please," I whispered, my eyes fluttering open to fix on his. "Promise me you'll stay safe,"
"Always," He agreed, lowering his lips to mine again. We were interrupted by a too-loud cough coming from our right, and we broke away, glancing at Sammy, who just raised his eyebrows at us. "Too PG for you, Sammy?" Dean teased his brother, making the boy glare at him while we laughed.
"I'll pick the lock," Sam grumbled, sounding annoyed, but I assumed it was this case. Sammy liked this plan even less than I did, and that was really saying something. He rolled his eyes before starting towards the door, already drawing out his lock pick.
"Hey," The small word grabbed Dean's attention, causing his eyes to fix on me again. "I love you," Dean faced me fully again, cradling my face between his hands, so his green eyes could study mine intently.
"This plan is going to work out fine, okay? We'll be out of town in a week," His promised, but something in my stomach still twisted. This was a bad idea. He kissed me softly, and I responded by wrapping my arms around his neck tightly as his arms dropped to my waist.
"Guys," Sam snapped, making us break away and glance at him for a moment. "We really have to go," He pointed out, gesturing to Dean and himself.
"I love you, too. I'll see you soon," Dean's forest green eyes bore into mine for a moment that seemed to stretch out for an eternity before he turned and disappeared into the building beside Sammy, leaving me to start the car and drive away from the museum alone with that twisting feeling in my gut.
-3rd Person-
Dean was roughly guided into an interrogation room after he'd annoyed the man who took his picture. Briefly, he wondered if he could get a copy of the picture to keep with him. His eyes flicked to the camera in the top corner of the room before they landed on the mirror that he knew was a two-way. His attention was drawn to the door as it opened to reveal a tall, coffee colored man in a black suit, who wore a tight lipped look. Behind him, a Caucasian man, wearing a similar black suit, walked into the room.
"Well, it's about time. I'll have a cheeseburger," Dean greeted them with his usual level of smartass, and the second agent slammed the door shut in response. "Extra onions," He added when he took in the darker man's unfazed demeanor. The man glanced at his partner, raising his eyebrows, a look to which his partner responded by frowning at Dean.
"You think you're funny," The darker agent, who'd come to stand in front of the table opposite Dean, commented humorlessly.
"I think I'm adorable," Dean responded, pursing his lips in mock thought. He grinned cockily at the agent, knowing he'd get under the older man's skin. It was just a matter of time.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dean," He completely disregarded Dean's comment, making Dean work to keep the fake smile on. "I'm special agent Victor Henriksen. This is my partner, special agent Reidy," Dean glanced across the room at the Caucasian guy, who'd positioned himself in the corner.
"Henriksen," Dean repeated, something clicking in his mind. "Not the Milwaukee Agent Henriksen?" He prayed the man would say no, but he knew better.
"Live and in person," Henriksen confirmed, never dropping the hard look from his face. Dean chuckled to cover up how fast his mind was racing. Agent Henriksen knew about Mel. "Ah, nice shot," With an effort, Dean focused on the picture Henriksen was holding in his hands. It had obviously been taken from a low budget camera in the museum that he and Sam had attempted to rob. "You can hang that up in your cell at super max,"
"All right, maybe we can just forget the cheeseburger, huh?" Dean smartassed, plastering a cocky grin on his face, but Henriksen just gave a tight-lipped, humorless smile.
"Oh, yeah. Keep that game face on. Try and cover up how cornered you are," Henriksen saw with some satisfaction that Dean seemed tenser and his jaw tightened while his eyes hardened. "Read him the charges,"
"You got mail fraud, credit card fraud, grave desecration…" The second agent began listing off the crimes.
"Skip to the good ones," Henriksen ordered abruptly, growing bored with the petty crimes.
"Armed robbery, kidnapping, and, uh, oh… three counts of first degree murder," He spoke without looking at the file in his hands.
"And after Milwaukee, your brother and Melody are now suspects in murder cases themselves," Henriksen's face was a stoic mask as he regarded the perpetrator sitting across from him."I'd say for you three, 'screwed to hell' is a major understatement,"
"'Three'?"Dean reiterated, raising his eyebrows. "Last time I checked, you only had two,"
"What did happen to your girlfriend, huh?" Henriksen questioned him, his eyes narrowing at Dean as he reached into the file and took out another photo. It was grainy and black and white, but there was no mistaking Mel's face. It must've been pulled from one of the bank's cameras in Milwaukee. "She split? You two break up?" Henriksen rested his knuckles on the table as he talked, leaning closer to Dean, who clenched his teeth. "She finally realize what a nut job you are?" Dean let out a strained chuckle, desperately trying to get a handle on his growing anger. "See, we searched for her, there's no sign,"
"Well, where there's life, there's hope, huh?" Dean ignored the comments about Mel, trying to keep his unconcerned act up. This plan is going to work out fine. We'll be out of town in a week. He found himself repeating the words he'd said to Mel in his head.
"Ah, see? That's what I kept thinking as I was searching for your asses all over hell and gone. Your dad taught you well. The way you cover your tracks, and after Milwaukee the way you guys-" He let out a whistle, waving a hand in the air. "Vanished," Dean chuckled lightly, glancing down at his hands resting on the table. "Near went nuts trying to find you," Henriksen told him, glancing at his partner in the corner. "Ask him,"
"He near went nuts," Reidy parroted, and Dean's eyes slowly travelled to him, a little creeped out.
"And after all of that, you get tripped up on a motion detector. Pretty rookie move," Henriksen commented, his eyes scrutinizing Dean's face for a reaction. "And with one of you missing. Coincidence?" Henriksen questioned, and Dean's face froze. If Henriksen did a check of the prison they were going… "Got to say, I was… surprised," Suddenly, the door opened allowing a young, blonde woman to walk through brusquely.
"Dean Winchester?" She questioned, looking directly at him as she shut the door behind him.
"In the flesh," He answered, silently thanking god that this interview was over.
"And you are?" Henriksen asked in a threatening voice.
"Mara Daniels, public defender's office," She introduced herself and held out a hand to Dean. "I've been assigned you and your brother's case," She then turned to Henriksen abruptly. "Are you Henriksen?"
"Yeah, and we're not quite done here," Henriksen informed her in a military voice, which only served to make her lips twitch into an amused smile.
"Uh, yeah. You are, and if you don't mind, I would like to meet with my clients, privately," Henriksen glanced at Dean, who raised his eyebrows and smirked, knowing the motion would piss off the agent. Henriksen finally nodded, and he and his sidekick left to bring Sam into the room. Dean turned his face towards the wall, so no one would see his smile drop into a worried frown. Mel was in trouble. If Henriksen looked at the prison, Mel would be caught. Then they'd have an actual prison break to arrange. This plan is going to work out fine. We'll be out of town in a week.
-1st Person-
This plan is going to work out fine. We'll be out of town in a week. Dean's words replayed themselves in my head, reassuring me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror in front of me while I took a deep, calming breath. My hair was tucked up into a black wig that was swept back into a ponytail, leaving the rough bangs to hang just short of my eyes. I was lucky I still had the wig from the last time Dean and Sam were arrested. I pursed my lips, which I'd colored a darker shade of pink than I normally chose; I was trying to be as different as possible. I'd even managed to make myself look a shade paler than my normal tone.
I was wearing a plain, red, long sleeved shirt with black slacks. Over the shirt, I pulled on a white lab coat, rolling up the sleeves so that the red undershirt was visible on my arms. The outfit was the most recent thing they had unless I felt like dressing up in a slutty nurse's costume, which was the other uniform they had available. I did not feel like dressing up as a slutty nurse.
"Hey," I jumped at the sudden voice and spun to face the man who was leaning in the doorway. "They're waiting for you," I nodded, glancing back at the mirror one last time before following the man out the door. He handed me a pair of clear, latex gloves, which I accepted with slight suspicion. It had been two days since Dean and Sam had been arrested, and I'd been expecting them to arrive soon. Yesterday was my first day 'on the job', and I'd managed to learn a few things and google a few more.
"What am I doing?" I questioned as I slipped the gloves over my fingers before glancing at the man walking through the hallway next to me.
"Lice checks," He replied brusquely, his face hard. I'd learned that he hardly ever displayed emotion on his face unless it was disappointment at a guard or anger at an inmate.
"They're here?" I checked, wanting to make sure that everything was going smoothly.
"Yeah," The word sent relief coursing through my veins, and I felt myself relax slightly. "You'll have to go through all the inmates,"
"And what do I do if an inmate actually has lice?" I questioned, causing the man to give me a look which I understood all too well. "Right," I muttered the word as we approached the line of men wearing orange jumpsuits.
"Head down. Lice check," Deacon snapped at the first convict, who complied without protest. I checked his head quickly before moving onto the next one. I went through the line quickly, most of the inmates causing no problem.
"Oh, really?" I glanced up to see Sam and Dean were only two convicts down from me. I quickly finished checking the two, barely even checking them to see if they did have head lice. "So Henriksen showing up was part of the plan?"
"What?" I hissed, motioning for Dean to put his head down, so I could check him. "Henriksen is here?"
"Yeah, guy moves a little faster than I thought," Dean admitted, and I bit my lip in thought. If Henrikson was here that meant there would be even more focus on Dean and Sam. "Listen, you got to split," I raised my eyebrows at Dean incredulously at his statement.
"What're you talking about?" I frowned at his demand. "You need someone with access to the outside," I pointed out, deciding to go with a logical approach.
"Henriksen is here, okay? He knows your face," I could hear the worry laced in his voice. "Look, talk to Deacon or something, alright? Hole up in a motel nearby and wait this one out,"
"I'm not sitting on the side lines while you two are stuck in here," I informed him, pretending to inspect his hair, slightly annoyed that he didn't have more of it. "Listen," I interrupted whatever Dean was going to say and half turned my head so I could look at him. "All we need to do is find out who this ghost is and get rid of it," Dean let out a resigned sigh, and I knew I'd won the argument, even if he wasn't happy about it. "And, Dean," I glanced at him fully now as I moved on to Sam, who lowered his head obediently. "You are not allowed to trade Sam for smokes," Dean chuckled, his eyes flicking to his little brother, who let out an annoyed huff.
"That's not funny," He protested tensely, and I could feel his eye roll. "What about this escape plan?"
"It's a hundred percent sure thing. Wouldn't have gone in if it wasn't," Dean spoke with confidence in his voice.
"He's right," I agreed readily, having spent enough time with Deacon to know he wouldn't double cross us. "We can trust him," I glanced at Deacon from where I was still moving my fingers through Sam's hair. "And this place does have all the usual signs of a haunting," I added, having asked Deacon a couple of questions.
"She's right. Innocent people are dead - four so far," Dean reminded us, and Sam scoffed.
"Yeah, innocent," He muttered sarcastically.
"Sorry, when did you move to texas?" I questioned, frowning at his condemning of the people in here. "Just because they made a few mistakes doesn't mean they deserve to die,"
"And if we don't stop this thing, people are going to continue to die," Dean added as I moved away from Sam, seeing the guard giving me a suspicious look. "We do the job wherever it takes us," I barely had to strain my ears anymore to pick up what Dean was saying. Lately, I'd been getting better and better at controlling my hearing. Since the Los Angeles job, I hadn't had another flash, but, if I focused, I could hear entire neighborhoods worth of people without getting a headache.
"Look, Dean, just be straight with me, all right?" I could clearly hear the doubt and uncertainty in Sam's voice. "You're doing this for Deacon?" I knew where Sam's mind was. I had thought the same thing. Maybe this case wasn't just for Deacon. Maybe it was for John as well.
"Damn right," Dean replied confidently without missing a beat.
"We barely even know the guy," Sam pointed out reasonably as I moved down the line of inmates to a taller one with short hair.
"We know he was in the corps with dad and Jimmy. We know he saved their lives. We know we owe him," Dean responded, causing me to glance down the row at where he was looking at Sam.
"Yeah, all right, but don't you think he's asking a little much?" Sam questioned hesitantly; he'd been doubtful about this from the beginning.
"Doesn't matter," Dean told him with an air of finality. "We may not be saints, but we're loyal and we pay our debts. Now, that means something to me, and it ought to to you," A small smile tugged at my lips as I heard his words and moved on to the next inmate. "I'm not thrilled about this either, man, but Deacon asked us to hunt this thing down. That's exactly what we're gonna do,"
"I'm supposed to take you back to the clinic," A thin, fit guard informed me when I'd finished checking the last person in line. I nodded and followed him down two hallways before we reached an open room with two cells with beds, if they could be called that. "I'm Donald, by the way. Donald Regent," He introduced himself, running a hand through his short black hair before holding out his hand, and I offered him a smile, shaking his hand. As he pulled away, I could clearly see the dragon tattoo that had been inked into his arm, and it made me raise an eyebrow, but I let it go.
"Charlotte Dames," I replied, remembering the name Sammy had made for me. I still don't know why he'd chosen that particular name, but I guess it didn't really matter now. Charlotte Dames had gone to Berkeley University in California and got a PhD in medicine before moving out here to apply for this job. Why Sam felt the need to make me grossly overqualified was beyond me.
"Well, if you ever need anything, just ask. Some of these inmates can get pretty rough," I pressed my lips into a tight line to keep from laughing at the man's seemingly genuine concern for my well being. If only he knew how overly capable I was of protecting myself from any of those 'rough' inmates.
"I will, thank you," I replied kindly, offering him a smile. He turned and strode out of the room while I shook my head, scoffing lightly. "Men," I muttered; they always assumed women were incapable of defending themselves. No sooner had he left the room than my phone went off loudly. I frowned, briefly glancing at my caller ID before flicking it open and pressing it to my ear.
Mel? A British, slightly tired voice greeted me, making my eyebrows raise.
"Max," My voice betrayed my surprise at him calling me.
I need your help. His blunt statement made me frown deeply as I remembered who he was traveling with.
"Are you okay? Is it Jo? Is she alright?" My voice picked up speed as I grew worried for the younger hunter; she hadn't been in the game that long.
I'm fine. The voice that answered me was tough but undoubtedly feminine. Jo. We're in Saint Charles, Missouri.
"What do you need my help with?" It wasn't that I was opposed to helping them, but it was an unspoken norm that whenever a hunter in our circle needed help, they'd call Bobby. "Did you try Bobby?"
We called Bobby. He said to call you, Sam, or Dean. Well, at least I knew Bobby was alright. I'd been meaning to check in with him lately but kept forgetting.
There's been four deaths so far. Three women and a man, all apparently pulled over to the side of the road and then taken. They turned up dead about two to three days after they disappear. Jo informed me brusquely, eager to get started on the case.
"Alright. How'd they die?" I questioned, still not understanding why Bobby thought that I would know better than him. He was the authority on all things that go bump in the night.
Mel, they were drained. My fingers tightened around the phone, painful memories floating to the surface.
"Drained?" I repeated cautiously, not wanting to jump to conclusions.
Blood. Jo clarified bluntly. They didn't have any blood. That's not all, they had bite marks on their necks. All of them. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. No question.
"You're hunting vampires," I stated, knowing that they'd probably already figured that part out. "You have to behead them to kill them, but be careful. They usually belong to a nest,"
A nest? Max repeated incredulously. You mean we're probably hunting more than one of these things?
"There's probably at least four," I nodded even though I knew he couldn't see me. "If you inject them with the blood of a dead man, they'll be paralyzed for a short time,"
How short a time? Max asked at the same time Jo questioned, How do we find them?
"A couple hours at the most," I answered Max first, glancing at the door as I heard footsteps walking past it. No one came in. "Go to the local bar and ask the bartender about a group that's been rowdy. Usually, people will just think they're hippies,"
Got it. Thanks for the help. He told me just as the door opened, and I turned to see two guards dragging in Dean and another inmate.
"Got two for you, Nurse Dames," The guard that I'd met earlier, Donald, informed me as both inmates were shoved onto separate beds.
Uh, Mel? Where are you? Max questioned, his voice holding curiosity as well as amusement.
"I got to go," I told him quickly instead of answering his question. "Call me if you need anything else," I snapped the phone shut before I could hear his response. "What happened?" I asked, careful not to betray too much emotion in my voice as I raked my eyes over Dean's form. He seemed unhurt. The inmate next to him, on the other hand was holding his bleeding nose, looking furious.
"Fight in the cafeteria," Donald informed me as I walked over to the inmate's cell to check his bleeding nose while both guards watched. It didn't take any effort at all to stem the blood with a small scrap of paper towel. "There shouldn't be too much damage," The guard informed me. That one kneed him in the groin and the face," The guard jerked his head at Dean as he spoke, and I suppressed a laugh with difficulty.
"You want to check there too, Doc?" The inmate raised his eyebrows at me with a wide grin, making me lean back in revulsion. Instead of leaving the cell like I wanted to, I forced myself to grab a small flashlight off the tray that was in the room. I pointed the light at a spot on the wall, having seen enough episodes of Dr. Sexy MD to know a little of what a check up was supposed to look like.
"Look here," He did and I shined the light into his eye, watching the pupil grow smaller. That's a good sign. I think. "Look here," I repeated my words, this time shining the light through the bars of the cell. He did, and I checked his other eye with the light. Still good. "Okay, you should be good,"
"Thanks, Doc," I started to leave the room only to freeze when I felt rough fingers grasp my lower arm tightly, preventing me from moving. "Where you going?"
"Hey!" Dean's snapped protest was drowned out by a loud hiss of pain from the inmate as Donald slammed his black baton into the man's wrist, forcing him to let go quickly. I was out of the cage in a heartbeat, and Donald nodded for the guard to take him away.
"I just wanted to have some fun," He grinned again at me, and I shrunk back, knowing that was the reaction the guards were expecting.
"That was Lucas," Donald explained as I stared after the inmate. "He's a bit of a troublemaker, but nothing we can't handle," I suppressed an eye roll at his the macho tone in his voice.
"Thanks for the help," I smiled at him widely before turning to Dean and letting the smile drop off my face. I stood by the back wall, so Dean had to turn his back to Donald to look at me.
"Find anything else about Mark Moody?" Dean questioned, his voice barely a whisper.
"Heart attack," I whispered as lowly as I could.
"What?" I glanced at Donald, who had thought I'd been talking to him.
"I said there's no swelling," I spoke louder, running my fingers lightly over the small bruise that was forming on Dean's cheekbone, and a small smile wound itself onto my face as Dean tightened his jaw, his eyes focused intently on the wall.
"He didn't get hit in the face that hard," Donald informed me. "Are you almost done? I'm supposed to take him to solitary,"
"Solitary?" I echoed, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I glanced up before holding up the small flashlight again. "Look there," I pointed at the wall before my eyes flicked back to Donald, waiting for an explanation.
"Solitary confinement," He elaborated, and, seeing my confused look, continued, "No one goes in or out, and the inmates are by themselves," I nodded in understanding.
"It's a punishment," I summed up, pointing the light at the bars on the door again. "There," Dean's eyes followed my light, and I shined it at his eye again.
"Yeah," Donald agreed with my statement. "He's new. Name's Winchester,"
"Dean to you," Dean corrected him, winking at me, which almost caused me to laugh.
"Hey," Donald glared at Dean while I set the flashlight down on the tray again. "Sorry for the unwanted attention," Donald apologized, sending Dean a pointed look. "A lot of these guys haven't seen a woman in years," I couldn't help letting out a small laugh at his reasoning.
"You know, he's right," Dean agreed, giving Donald a once over. "A lot of these guys haven't," His implication made Donald practically tear him out of the seat, pinning his arm behind his back, which made Dean grunt in pain. I waited politely until they were both out of the door to let out the laugh I'd been holding in.
There were a few more patients that day, but nothing serious that I couldn't handle. It wasn't that I'd attended medical classes or anything aside from the anatomy class I'd taken in high school. I had just picked stuff up along the way. I mean, I had stitched up gashes to save both Sam and Dean's life more than once, and the stakes were significantly lower in the prison. Besides, it wasn't as if there standards were sky high. They'd barely done a background check on me.
"You can go if you're done with him," I glanced up at Deacon, who jerked his chin at the man on the bed I'd finished attending. He'd sprained his wrist, and I'd wrapped it up for him. It was pretty straightforward.
"Thanks," I collected my stuff into the bag I'd brought, shrugging off my lab coat and hanging it on the coat hanger that stood in the corner of the room. "Just finished,"
"Did you drive here?" He questioned, making me shake my head in answer. I'd hidden the Impala, so I'd taken the bus here from the motel I was staying at. I couldn't afford to steal a car.
"I'll give you a ride," I understood that he wanted to discuss what we had found so far, so I nodded without hesitation. He had a right to be kept in the loop. I followed him to his car before sliding into the passenger's side. Normally, I wasn't so quick to trust people, but Deacon was different. I remembered my dad's stories about him from the old days. How he'd come in, guns blazing, to rescue John and him from the enemies who had surrounded them.
"We think it's Mark Moody," I informed him as he drove out of the lot and onto the road. "He died of a heart attack in the old cell block,"
"Yeah, I remember him," Deacon's stoic appearance didn't change as he cut off any further description I would've gave. Something in his voice made me narrow my eyes at him. He sounded almost… regretful.
"What happened to him?" I questioned, making Deacon glance at me and frown.
"What do you mean? You just said. He died of a heart attack," I would've known he was lying by his voice even if I hadn't been watching his face for tells.
"No, I mean what really happened," Deacon didn't respond as I pressed the matter. "Turn left up here," I pointed left, still unwilling to let it drop. "If you want us to waste this thing, you have to be straight with us,"
"He didn't die of a heart attack," Deacon confessed reluctantly. "Some of the guys, without my knowledge, went into the cell block where Moody was being kept and..."
"Beat him," I supplied, anger tightening my stomach.
"You have to understand, one of the guards's wife was killed," I tried hold on to the anger, but it slipped away, turning to sympathy against my will.
"It's here," I pointed to the motel where I was staying, and Deacon pulled into the parking lot. "Moody wasn't buried by any chance?" I prayed the guard would say yes.
"Cremated," He responded instead, dashing my hopes. I let out an irritated sigh, running a hand through my hair only to realize I was still wearing the wig that was in a ponytail.
"Of course," I muttered, glancing at Deacon to see his worried expression. "Look, Sam and Dean know about Moody. They'll find what's keeping him here and destroy it. Then-" I snapped my fingers for emphasis, "-problem solved," I tried to sound confident, but I was still disappointed by the cremated news. That meant Dean and Sam had to stay in the prison another night at least.
"Thanks again for doing this," He spoke as I opened the door, grabbing my bag with my free hand. "I know it's a lot to ask," My eyes flicked back to him for a moment before I shook my head.
"We owed you one. For our dads," I answered simply, getting out of the small, silver car that Deacon drove.
"They'd be real proud," A warm feeling flooded my stomach, making me smile though it was slightly strained.
"Thanks for the ride here," I slammed the door, shouldering the bag and starting towards my room as Deacon drove off. I could see why my dad had spoke about him. He was an okay person at heart. I turned the key in the lock and walked into the room, throwing my bag to the side of the door before kicking the door shut with my foot and flicking on the lights. I scanned the empty room, almost expecting Dean or Sam to come out of the bathroom. Everything was quiet, and I shook my head to clear it.
"Right," I muttered, my eyes scanning the room once more before I pulled off the wig, letting my chestnut hair tumble down my shoulders. I took a quick shower before throwing on a a tank top and sweatpants to sleep in and brushing my teeth. When I walked out of the bathroom, I got that same strange feeling again, as if I expected Dean to be lounging on the bed eating or Sam to be sitting in a chair staring intently at his computer. They weren't, and I shook my head again to bring myself into the present. I just needed to get some sleep.
The first thing I felt was the mist surrounding me cooling my skin, making me shiver slightly and wrap my arms around myself. I glanced down to see I was wearing jeans and a plain black shirt with an oversized jacket slung over my shoulders. It barely took me a moment to recognize it as Dean's jacket. I pulled it around myself tighter to try to keep the cold at bay and turned, expecting to find Sam and Dean standing beside me, but there was no one.
The wind picked up, causing me to shiver again as my own hair was blown into my face. I raised a hand to brush it away when warm, sticky wetness touched my face. I jerked my hand away from my face, for the first time really looking at it. It was covered in blood. I raised my other shaking hand to see it was covered in blood as well.
I must be bleeding. Frantically, I pawed at my abdomen and legs to find the source of the blood and stem it, but I found nothing but smooth skin. Where had it come from? I took one small step forward, checking to make sure everything was functioning right. Nothing hurt.
"Mel," I jerked my head to the right, my eyes searching desperately for the source of the sound. "Mel," The word was a croak, and my eyes dropped to the ground. That's when I saw him.
"Sammy," I breathed, sprinting towards him and dropping to my knees so fast I was sure grass stains appeared on my jeans. "Sammy, Jesus," I whispered as I took in the gaping hole in his chest. He stared at me with a dull terror in his eyes.
"You c-can f-fight it-t. P-P-Please," He begged me, determination in his dark brown eyes. A small tear rolled down his cheek as he gasped for breath.
"Sammy, look at me, okay?" I cradled his face in my hands, gently slapping his cheek to keep him awake. "It's going to be okay. I'll get you to a hospital," I searched my pockets for a phone but found none.
"M-Mel?" Sammy seemed to be searching my face with his half lidded eyes. "I-it's n-n-n-not y-your f-fault-t,"
"What?" The word came out rushed and distorted as I felt hot tears pricking the backs of my eyes. "Sammy, stay with me okay. Look at me. I got you; just like always. I'm going to stitch you up. You'll be good as new," The ghost of a smile tugged his lips upward.
"D-dean," A spike of ice cold fear shot through me as Sam got out that word, his lips turning a bright scarlet. Tears poured down my cheeks as Sam's eyes grew unfocused.
"What?" I choked the word out, desperately covering the wound with my hands to stop the blood. "Sammy?" His brown eyes focused on me for one last time before he went limp. "SAMMY!" My eyes darted around the small clearing of trees. "HELP!" I screamed the word, my throat going raw as a sob tore it's way through my lips.
"Is he dead?" My eyes shot up and zeroed in on the figure that was hidden in shade, slumped against a tree trunk. I stumbled to my feet, slowly walking around the tree to fall to my knees beside Dean. He was wearing his grey t-shirt that I would sometimes steal to sleep in. It was my favorite of his. He turned to look at me, and the tears rolled down my cheeks faster. He was beat to hell. His face was swollen, bloody and bruised, and his shirt was covered in dark red blotches. "Is he dead?" He repeated the question softly, his breathing shallow and unstable.
"Ye-es," My voice cracked as another sob ripped through me. Dean leaned his head back on the trunk of the tree, letting out a small sob of his own. "W-what hap-pened?"
"It wasn't your fault, Mels," More tears ran down my cheeks, but I didn't care. "You have to fight it. You have to fight him," Dean's body shuddered, and that's when I caught sight of the tear in his shirt. His side was practically ripped open, and, jutting out of his skin, was sticking my knife. The one Dean had gotten me for my birthday a few years ago. I tore his jacket off my shoulders and pressed it against the wound, pulling my knife out.
"Don't move, okay?" I demanded of him, managing to focus on his wound. "I-" My voice cracked badly, and my body shook with a sob. Dean covered my bloody hand with his; slowly, my eyes traveled up to meet his. I raised my other hand to his face, but he flinched away, making my hand freeze. He thought I was going to hurt him. "I didn't do this," I shook my head despairingly. "This wasn't me. I couldn't have done this," Dean closed his eyes and rested his full weight on the tree, his breathing becoming shallower.
"You have to fight him," A small tear slipped through Dean's closed eyelids. "It's not you, Mels. I know you," I ignored his flinch, cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at me with tired eyes.
"Dean, don't leave me. Stay awake. Please," I sobbed and shuddered, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I love you. Please stay awake,"
"I'm sorry," He whispered, his hand slipping off of mine as his head lolled back.
"No, no, no, no, no," I muttered the word over and over as I shook him roughly by the shoulder. "Dean, you are not allowed to leave, okay? Hey!" I snapped at him, anger making my vision hot as well as blurry. "Dean, look at me! I love you," I repeated the phrase, cradling his limp head between my hands. "I love you-" My voice cracked too badly to continue, so I simply buried my head into the crook of his neck and sobbed.
"Well, isn't this sweet," I whipped around to face the man standing two feet behind me. My narrowed eyes focused on his yellow ones, and, suddenly, white-hot rage coursed through me. I lunged at him only to be flung into the tree by an invisible force. "I know what you're thinking, but, as much as I would've loved to, I didn't do this," He swept his arm around to encompass a dead Sam and Dean. "This was all you,"
"No. I didn't do this," I shook my head, my eyes finding Dean's limp form again. "I did not do this…" I repeated, glaring ferociously through my tears while trying to fight my sobs.
"No," The demon agreed in a contemplative manner, cocking his head to the side. "But you will," He grinned evilly, holding up his hand for a moment before snapping his fingers.
I jerked upright in the bed, shaking violently and drenched in cold sweat. I stumbled out of the bed, but my legs gave out on me, causing me to sink to the floor. Tears poured unchecked down my face, and the only thing I could muster up the energy to do was prop my back against the bed and pull my knees to my chest. It had all felt so real. But it wasn't. Sam and Dean were at the prison. They were okay. They were going to kill a ghost. Then they would get out with Deacon's help, and we'd be on the road again. I glanced at the clock.
5:38 glowed in back at me, bright red. I picked myself off the ground and slowly made my way to the bathroom. The cold water felt good on my hot, tearstained cheeks. It snapped me out of my stupor. This was real. Dean was alive. Sam was alive. I was not going to turn into that. I would never hurt them.
"He's not getting into my head," I muttered the words aloud, trying desperately to convince myself. This wasn't the first nightmare I'd had, but it had been among the worst. "He's not getting into my head," I repeated, taking a deep, shaking breath before staring hard at myself in the mirror, my eyes cold with determination. "He's not,"
I followed Donald, Don, as he'd insisted I'd call him, into the cafeteria. Originally, I hadn't been that keen on getting a tour of the prison; I wasn't going to be here for that long of a time, but he'd insisted on showing me around. I'd figured it was probably the best way to see how Dean and Sam were doing, especially after what happened to Lucas. We needed to kill this thing and fast. As soon as Don and I stepped inside the large room, I zeroed in on them using my hearing. They were in line for food, each holding pale green trays in their hands.
"We buy packaged goods, which are shipped in every month. All the inmates need to do is stick them in some boiling water or put them in the oven," Don gestured to the big oven as we walked around the metal counter to where the inmates were serving food. I caught Dean's eyes, and I gave him a small, secret smile, which made him grin though I could see the worry in his eyes.
"I'd like mine al dente," He to the unamused lunch man before throwing me a wink. The man slopped some overcooked noodles on his plate and then poured the red sauce unceremoniously on top of it. "Perfect," Dean muttered, looking disgustedly at the food he would have to stomach. For the first time, I was glad I wasn't the one stuck in an orange uniform.
"That one seems to like you," Don commented, making me glance sideways at him.
"He probably flirts with everyone," I answered, shrugging to try to appear indifferent to the convict.
"Yeah," Don agreed, seemingly satisfied with my charade. "Hey, I was wondering if maybe, when you got off, you'd want to grab drinks or something?" My eyes widened fractionally in surprise at the question, and I opened my mouth to reply to him when the loud sound of skin on skin contact distracted me. I turned to see Dean was now picking himself off the floor with a groan of pain, and my eyes flicked around the room to find Sammy already looking at me. Dean punched the other inmate in the face, but the giant barely seemed to feel it.
"Aren't you going to do something?" I snapped at Don as Dean head butted the man only to reel back, clutching his head in pain. Don nodded quickly, rushing forward to put the baton around Tiny's neck to attempt to pull him backwards. Tiny turned and lifted the smaller man clean in the air before throwing him over the table; it would've been comical if it hadn't been real. I started forward only to freeze when a hand grasped my arm. Moving on instinct, I spun around, twisting the man's hand around and pinning him to the wall with a forearm across his throat threateningly.
"Mel," Sam choked out, raising the arm that I wasn't pinning to the wall up in surrender. I released him quickly, muttering apologies as he caught his breath, coughing and doubling over. He straightened with difficulty and pulled me through the sliding double doors with him while everyone's attention was on Dean.
"Sam, no one can see us together," I warned him, casting frequent glances over my shoulder at the doors we'd went through.
"I know. I'm just keeping you posted," He answered, looking worried. "It's Mark Moody. We're sure now. You have to salt and burn his remains,"
"I know, and he was cremated. I asked Deacon," I informed him of what I'd learned so far about the suspect.
"Wait, Randal said that there was blood in his cell. A lot of it. Apparently, there was so much, they had trouble mopping it out," Sam spoke quickly and excitedly.
"You really want to get out of here, don't you?" I couldn't help smiling as I came to that realization; he was desperate to get out of this prison.
"Yeah, laugh it up," Sam spoke in mock annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "You're not the one stuck in a prison with killers,"
"Hey, compared to the stuff we hunt, these people are little girls with pigtails," I told him, nudging him lightly while grabbing some salt tubes off the counter and shoving it in my coat pocket.
"Thanks for the pep talk," The sarcasm in Sam's voice made me laugh lightly. "Try to do it as fast as you can," I walked out the double doors just in time to see Dean being hauled up by Don with his arms pinned behind his back. Deacon grabbed Dean's chin roughly between his thumb and fingers, forcing the man to look at his face.
"If we waited any longer, you'd be dead," He informed Dean, whose exhausted, pained eyes travelled across the room slowly to meet mine. I gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and his eyes returned to Deacon's hard ones, now filled with defiance.
"You waited long enough," He replied through his pants, and my jaw tightened as Deacon slammed the butt of his baton into Dean's stomach hard enough to make my boyfriend double over in pain.
"Do yourself a favor," Deacon snapped at Dean, grabbing the back of his head as Dean let out a grunt of pain. "Don't talk," He finished the advice, pushing Dean's head down. "Take them both up to the infirmary," I took a small step forward, my instincts screaming at me to free Dean and run, but I stifled the desire and, instead, calmly watched them walk past me before following them up to the clinic.
Tiny, as I found out the giant man was called, had almost no injuries, which was a bit impressive considering how hard Dean could hit and how long he'd been trained in fighting. I checked him the same way I'd checked Lucas and Dean earlier only to find that everything was working properly. The guard locked the door behind me as I left his cell and walked into Dean's, taking a seat in front of him on the chair. Dean, unlike Tiny, had a giant bruise forming on his left cheek as well as a small cut there.
"So, Charlie," I'd forgotten I had told Don that he could call me Charlie. Becoming someone else is always more believable when you have a nickname instead of a full name, especially when it's a name like 'Charlotte'. "Where did you go?"
"What do you mean?" I questioned carefully, checking Dean's ears and eyes for delayed reaction to light and sound. "Lay on your back. I need to check for any cracked ribs," I ordered Dean brusquely, glancing back at Don as I waited for him to elaborate on his question.
"In the cafeteria, you disappeared," I hesitated for a moment as I felt for the start of Dean's ribcage. At Don's question, Dean's muscles tensed as if he were preparing for a fight.
"I don't like violence," I explained, which wasn't entirely false. I don't like violence. "I try to avoid it whenever possible," I do try to avoid it whenever possible.
"You know you took a job as a prison nurse, right?" Don pointed out as I felt Dean's ribs slowly, making sure that none of them were broken.
"I am a prison doctor," I corrected, laying heavy emphasis on the word 'doctor', which made Don look apologetic and embarrassed. "And the last time I checked, doctors help people. They are not violent," Dean let out a loud laugh at that, making Don glare daggers at him while I turned away to hide my smile. I finished checking his ribs, and Dean sat back upright, fixing me with his gaze intently.
"So," Don began again, coughing uncomfortably and shifting his weight. "I didn't get your answer,"
"My answer?" I repeated, furrowing my brow in slight confusion as I picked up some anti-swelling cream from the tray of stuff I'd pulled out of the cabinets.
"Drinks later?" He prompted, and I froze briefly. Oh, that answer. When I faced Dean again, I saw him staring at me sightlessly while his jaw was clenched tightly and his hands were balled into fists.
"I can't," I replied evenly, forcing myself to sound somewhat sorry about that fact. "I have a boyfriend," Dean relaxed slightly, almost as if he'd actually ever think I'd say yes.
"Oh, tough break, Romeo," Dean quipped, making me give him a look as I moved his head to the side to apply the cream to his cheek. Don glared harshly at Dean with hatred in his gaze while Dean just smiled cockily back at him. I finished and stepped away from Dean, who shot a brief glare at Don before returning his eyes to me.
"What about just as friends, then?" I hesitated, biting the inside of my cheek in desperate thought. I didn't want to go, but at the same time, I didn't have a viable excuse not to. "Come on, I could show you the best places to go in this town,"
"Okay," I finally agreed, trying to ignore Dean's eyes burning holes in the side of my head. I didn't want to go back to the empty motel room again. I couldn't go through what happened last night again. Anything was better than that.
"Great. I'll see you later," Don grinned at me before throwing Dean a glare and walking out the door. I waited three minutes before grabbing the salt out of my coat pocket and following out the door in search of Mark Moody's previous room.
I found it with little trouble, and flipped open the mattress to reveal a large, dark bloodstain in the middle of it. I poured the contents of one salt container out before I poured lighter fluid over it and lit a match I found while I was rummaging through the cabinets that morning. The mattress went up in flames faster than I'd thought it would, which made me sprint back to the infirmary before anyone could catch me.
"Oh, crap," I whirled around at Dean's worried voice.
"What is it?" Tiny questioned innocently as I caught sight of the ghostly pale figure hovering a few yards away.
"It wasn't Moody," I muttered, my eyes widening at the woman, who seemed to be regarding us with huge narrowed eyes. The rattling of Dean's door snapped me out of my trance, and I suddenly realized I had no way to get into his cell.
"What's going on?" Tiny asked with the same air of confusion in his voice as before. The ghost began walking towards Dean's cell. I reached my hand into my pocket and drew out another of the salt containers I'd taken before handing it through the holes of the cell. Before Dean could take it, he was flung back into the wall and thrown onto the ground, moaning in pain as the ghost appeared in front of him.
"Dean," I hissed his name urgently as I knelt down on the ground, shoving the salt into his hand through the metal gate. The spirit put a hand over his heart, making me wrap my fingers tightly around the holes of the gate, wishing I could tear it down. Dean flicked the salt open with his thumb and swiped it at the creature, causing it to disappear. I leaned my forehead against the bars in relief, my hands relaxing as I realized Dean was fine. I felt warm fingers over mine, and I turned my head to the side to see he had slipped his fingers through the holes to intertwine with mine. Suddenly, a scream broke out from the cell next to Dean's. Tiny. I bolted up and to my right to see the nurse had her hand over Tiny's heart, pressing him up against the wall.
I uncapped the second to last bottle of salt I had taken and threw it at the spirit. Only about half of the bottle actually hit her, but it was enough to make her screech her dissatisfaction and vanish. I waited tensely for her to reappear, but nothing happened except the door bursting open and two guards rushing in.
"What's going on?" I stowed the salt container in my pocket before either guard could see it. "I thought I heard yelling,"
"It was me," My eyes jumped from the guards to Tiny in surprise. "Stubbed my toe on the damn bed," He was covering for what just happened. Both guards rolled their eyes simultaneously before leaving again. Before Tiny could ask me any of the questions that I'm sure were darting through his mind, my phone began to ring. I glanced down at the caller ID before flipping it open quickly, moving away from the cells.
"Jo?" I answered into the phone and was taken aback by the messy string of words that greeted me.
Mel? We screwed up. Shit! I don't know what to do. You have to help me. Please. I thought… Shit! Her words were coming out a mile a minute, making me concentrate hard to understand all of what she was saying.
"Jo," I interrupted her abruptly, a bad feeling twisting my stomach. "Where's Max?"
They have him. I sucked in a quick breath before letting it out slowly, calming myself. We thought we'd killed all of them, but the woman - we thought she was a victim. They'd turned her. She grabbed him and knocked me out.
"Okay, I want you to listen to me very carefully," I spoke slowly, trying to calm her down. "She's going to take him somewhere abandoned and close cause she won't want to drive for long. Search for any abandoned places in a twenty mile radius of you," There was a brief pause before Jo spoke again.
There are three. One is the one they were using to camp out at. I thought for a moment before speaking again.
"You said she was a new vampire. DId she have family? She'll want to see them again. Especially if she's young," I prompted her, seeing if she'd figure it out on her own.
Yeah. Catherine Elmond. Elmond family. There's an abandoned building close to there. Three miles away. Jo's statements were rushed and logical; I could almost see her mind working to figure out the pattern to Catherine. I could tell she was making a damn good hunter.
"That's where she'll be then. If not, check the empty nest, sometimes they'll return to what they know," I informed her hurriedly, knowing she probably wanted to hang up. "Call when your finished so I know you two made it out okay,"
Will do. Jo replied quickly. I almost took the phone away from my ear, but her words stopped me, Mel… thanks. I owe you one.
"Just find him," I tried not to let on how touched I was by the warmth in her voice. "And be careful. Vampires are wily sons of bitches," She let out a small, strained laugh that was filled with worry for her kidnapped boyfriend. I heard the click of her phone snapping shut and closed mine as well, pushing it into my pocket.
"Hey," I turned to see Don standing by the door with his hands in his pockets. I glanced at the clock to see I had just gotten off. "Ready?" Right, I'd promised him a drink.
"Yeah, just give me a couple minutes. I'll meet you outside," I promised him, flashing a smile that made him nod and exit the room.
"Rent-a-cop seems pretty excited for your 'just friends' drinks," Dean commented bitterly, and I glanced at him in surprise before laughing slightly.
"You can't honestly tell me your jealous," Dean scoffed as I paused by his cell on my way to the door.
"I'm not jealous," He denied instantly, making me roll my eyes before I glanced at Tiny's cage tensely. "He knows," Dean explained, shrugging.
"Hell of a job you two have," Tiny commented from the other cage, sounding slightly out of it. Probably in shock. "Thanks for earlier, by the way,"
"I'll research past nurses in this prison tonight, and I'll know by tomorrow," I told Dean easily before my gaze travelled to the other cell. "And you're welcome, Tiny," I spoke louder to the other man before walking out the door and through the prison to the parking lot.
-3rd Person-
Dean and Sam were dragged into a room by a random guard from the yard, who was quickly followed by Deacon looking stern as ever with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Take off," Deacon ordered the guard as Sam and Dean turned back to look at him. "I want to handle this alone," Was all the explanation he gave, but the man accepted it and walked off. Deacon came toward them slowly, ominously, until finally he smiled widely at the boys.
"Deacon," Dean chuckled, shaking his head in pain and fatigue. "You are beating the holy hell out of me, man," They showed Deacon there cuffs expectantly, and he reached for his keys.
"Sorry, Dean. I thought I was going easy on you," Dean scoffed as Deacon snapped off his cuffs. "Just, uh, trying to make it look real," He added as he finished snapping off Sammy's as well.
"Yeah, well, mission accomplished," He spoke with a laugh still in his voice, eager to get out of this prison and back to his regular life. "Where's Mel?"
"She's waiting for you outside," Deacon answered easily, gesturing to the open window. "So? Is it over?"
"No. Turns out it wasn't Moody," Sammy confessed, sticking to the truth.
"What?" Deacon frowned, having half a mind to snap the cuffs right back on them. "Then who?" He questioned, frowning at Sam and then Dean.
"We think it's some nurse who used to work here. Mel was going to research it, but we're not sure if she's got all the intel we need," Sam told him, and Dean finished for him.
"Which is why we should stick around until we know for sure," Dean hated the idea of leaving a case half unsolved, especially when it involved a friend of John's.
"You want to have this fight for real, Dean? We got to go. We got to go now," Sam's voice rose with every word he spoke as he turned to face his brother.
"Guys-" Deacon tried to cut in, grabbing the envelope Mel had given him from his back pocket, having almost forgot about it.
"We're leaving Dean," Sam continued, neither man paying any attention to what Deacon was trying to say. "Otherwise we'll be leaving in shackles for Milwaukee with Henriksen as company!"
"Oh, come on!" Dean protested, rolling his eyes at his brothers dramatics.
"Guys!" Deacon snapped, finally succeeding in gaining their attention.
"What?" They both turned their heads to glare at him simultaneously.
"Mel left this for you," He handed Dean the letter. "She said to give it to you if you argued about leaving," Dean frowned at the envelope briefly before tearing it open and seeing the simple words scrawled neatly on the page. His eyes scanned them before flicking up while his lips couldn't quite fight off the smile that grew on them.
"Well, you want to share with the class, Dean?" At his words, Dean handed the paper over to Sam, causing his face to break out into a wide smile.
"All right, you ready to go?" Both boys nodded, and Deacon opened a panel in the wall for them to climb through, wondering what could be written on the paper to make them respond like that.
"Don't worry, Deacon," Dean spoke while still looking at the paper and chuckling. "We'll get this thing,"
"Good, cause I want it out of my prison," Deacon nodded as if his response was acceptable. "Boys, I can't thank you enough for this. I know it was asking a lot, but you still came through. Your daddy raised you right,"
"Well, we owed you," Dean glanced at Sammy proudly as the kid hugged Deacon before Dean hugged the man himself.
"Hope to see you again. Just not in here, okay?" Both boys chuckled as they passed him on the way to the hole in the wall.
"Yeah, we'll do our best," Sam promised him, knowing they'd inevitably get into more trouble in the future.
"Oh," Dean remembered, spinning around to face Deacon again with his fist half raised. "Where do you want it?" He walked back to the older man slowly.
"What?" He frowned in momentary confusion before his expression cleared as he took in Dean's smirk, and his lips formed a dry smile. He pointed to his cheek gently, turning it to face the boy. "Make it look real, son," Dean just chuckled with a smirk before socking him in the jaw, knocking the man out cold.
Mel shut the phone, standing with her back resting on the trunk of the Impala and her arms crossed over her chest waiting for the two boys to come up the ladder. She'd just gotten off the phone with Jo and Max, both of whom were unharmed to her immense relief. The past day had gone by in a blur. The drinks had gone surprisingly well; she was almost sorry to be leaving Don behind so abruptly. They could have been friends. Oh, well; she shrugged. In a different world maybe.
"Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes," Her eyes shot up to meet the two figures making their way towards her.
"Are you talking to me or the car?" She questioned, a smile twitching at her lips as Dean jogged the rest of the way to her.
"I can't be talking about both?" Before she could formulate any sort of response, his lips crashed down on hers, his arms pulling her towards him until her body was pressed tightly to his. Her arms wound around his neck as she responded eagerly, her hand tangling in his short hair.
-1st person-
"Guys, if you're done-" Sam's interruption was cut off by alarm blaring throughout the prison. "We have to go. Now," He finished, and Dean and I hurried into the Impala, speeding away from the prison.
"You know, I almost wish I could see Henriksen's face right now," Dean commented, making me grin at the thought of how furious the agent would be that we slipped through his fingers yet again.
"Really? Cause I would be happy if we never saw him again," Sammy responded as we drove within the speed limit for the first time in a long time.
"Glockner," I spoke up from the back, sliding to the middle so I could rest my elbows on the front seat. "Nurse Glockner - worked at the prison in the '70s. During her time at the prison, there was a string of heart attacks, young and old. She's the ghost beyond a doubt, and I know where she's buried,"
"You come up with all of this when you were out with Ron," Sam sent me a questioning look while I rolled my eyes at Dean's childish attitude.
"It's Don, and you are not still upset about that. I went out with drinks with Don, who worked security there," I explained as I turned to Sam, suddenly getting an idea. "It would be like if I went out with Sam for drinks,"
"Well, Sam is not desperately into you," Dean replied, glaring at the road in front of him. I glanced at Sam, expecting him to chime into this argument, but he was just staring silently out the window.
"Don wasn't desperately into me," I defended myself, not understanding how Dean could have made a complete 180 in the five minutes we'd been driving.
"Guys, we're here," Sam's voice sounded oddly quiet, making me glance at him in surprise for a moment as Dean parked the car. The three of us got out and grabbed some shovels before starting towards the grave. I held the flashlight as Sam and Dean started digging the pit.
"Why would you even go in the first place?" Dean remarked, making me glare at him in the darkness.
"Do you really trust me that little?" I turned the question on him, shining the flashlight on only Sammy while shrouding Dean in darkness.
"Can we not talk about this, please?" Sam was practically begging us to shut up, so Sam and Dean dug the rest of the grave in silence until Sammy's shovel finally made a thunking sound.
"Got her," He announced as him and Dean threw their shovels on the side of the grave. I helped Sam up first before Dean reached up his hand to be helped out of the pit.
"Are you sure you trust me?" I muttered, causing Dean to give me a look before Sam and I helped him out of the pit. We salted and burned the body easily. The three of us stood there watching the flames devour the skeleton, and, with a stab of pain, I was reminded of all the people I'd watched burn. My dad. John. I couldn't do it anymore. I wouldn't loose anyone else.
"I do," I tore my eyes away from the fire to look sideways at Dean, who was studying my face intently. "I do trust you,"
"I know," I replied, a small smile pulling at my lips as Dean slipped an arm around my waist while we walked back to the car.
"This was cute, by the way," Dean gave me the note I'd left for Deacon to give them, and I grinned widely. "How'd you know I would argue?" I spun around to face him as we made it to the car.
"Because I know you," I replied, raising myself onto my toes to press a kiss to his lips before sliding into the passenger's seat of the Impala and unfolding my note:
Of course I got the information
Stop being dumbasses and hurry up
"Thought we were screwed before?" I glanced at the rearview at Sam, who made himself comfortable in the backseat.
"Yeah, we should lay low," I agreed whole-heartedly with his logic.
"Lay low, Mel? We should go to Yemen," Sam stated, making me laugh lightly as Dean shut the door behind him.
"Oh, I'm - I'm not sure I'm ready to go that deep," Sam scoffed slightly at Dean's statement, and Dean frowned at his younger brother. "You okay, there, Sammy? Having PTSD from prison?"
"I'm fine," He responded, and something about the abrupt word told me that he wasn't fine at all.
-3rd Person-
"You were right. She was there," The man spoke into the chalice, swirling the dark red liquid he'd poured in. Murmuring filled the air, making the man's eyes turn black as ebony.
"No, she is still with the older Winchester," His turned his head to face the man next to him in the car. His throat was slit almost to his spinal cord, causing hot redness to gush down his ratty clothes. It was a marvel how much humans could bleed with the right… coaxing.
"She gives no signs of leaving them. I don't understand why we don't just kill them-" He was abruptly cut off as the voice from the chalice hissed loudly and furiously.
"Yes, of course," He replied quickly, swallowing hard as he thought about what would happen to him if he should fail. "She already knows this body. I'll have to find a new one," He glanced down at the dragon the man he'd possessed had inked onto his arm and rolled his eyes. Humans. "I won't loose her," He promised solemnly as he ran a hand through his hair, giving his pitch black hair scarlet highlights. There was more whispering, and the demon paled considerably.
"I have always been loyal," He reminded the voice, shifting his weight in the seat. "I have been following her for three months now," Silence for a moment and then more hisses. "Yes, this is the first time I made contact. She knew me as Don," He looked down at the dragon tattoo again. "I want to add something else to my agreement," The hisses grew louder and more furious, causing the demon to shrink back but not back down.
"If I can't kill Melody Scott, I want to kill Dean Winchester," Originally, he'd been promised he'd get to kill the Winchester's bitch, but Azazel had had other plans. There was a brief reply before the blood went still in the cup, and the presence was gone. The demon's lips twisted into a cruel smile, eager for what was to come.
Ladysunshine6: Yeah, I know. I put a lot of built up emotions into that flashback. Also, I really like writing flashbacks that take place right after Dean and Mel broke up in high school to show how they were with each other.
Grapejuice101: I'm glad you loved the episode! I will try to write some Sam/Mel scenes, but, just a warning, they will be a little one sided because of Mel's view of Sam (as a little brother).
Sarahmichellegellarfan1: I love writing Mel/Dean moments, and I think you'll really like the next four episodes, especially the next three. There's a lot in store for Mel, Sam, and Dean in the coming chapters.
Guest: Thanks! I have been trying to get this chapter out for a while now, but it's been extremely hard to work around the male prison factor. I'll try to update faster in the future!
Guest: I'm flattered that you think I'm a great writer and you love my stories. I usually don't do this, but I did take a look at your story, and I have to say, I really liked it. Your character, Rose, is super spunky (I love all spunky women characters immediately), and I loved how she and Dean met. You should definitely continue with your story!
Guest: I can't wait to write the season 2 finale! It's going to be great!
MsNico: I'm really excited for you to read what I have in store for the characters in the coming finale. I've been looking forward to writing it since I started season 2!
anime0angel: First, it's really cool that you viewed my story from Japan, and I'm not surprised about the wifi. I've had that problem traveling abroad as well. When I was watching 'Hollywood Babylon' again to write the last chapter, I appreciated a lot more of the jokes and sarcasm. It's actually a really funny episode, and I wanted to convey as much of that as I could in that chapter. I'm not going lie, I had to look up a lot of Dean's references cause he picks the most obscure movies that no one would normally watch. You can expect more of post breakup Mel and Dean cause I do love writing those flashbacks. I agree with you about the criticism reviews; I love reading criticism because I always feel as though I'm a better writer afterwards. In regards to Mel's psychic ability, she is older than Sam by four years, so it stands to reason that her powers would be farther along than his. Also, in the second chapter of the first season (Wendigo), she uses her powers without having the yellow-eyed demon involved. I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter! Hope you like the rest of the season as well!
J. Cassia-Rendthal: I'm happy to help! And thanks for reviewing to my story to tell me how you feel! 'Route 666' seems to be a lot of people's favorite, and I'm glad (cause it did take me a painfully long time to write). I know I haven't been keeping up my usual update schedule, and I'm really sorry about it! I'll try to get my act together and come out with more chapters soon!