Don't own Supernatural

Chapter 12: Cathy the Not-So-Friendly Ghost

"Well, you guys were out late," Sam greeted as Dean and George walked through the motel room.

"Well, we were driving all around trying to talk to the victim's families who felt the need to live far away from each other," George sighed, "So what did you get on little Miss Cathy Williams?"

"Okay, from what I got, it said she had an abusive father, who died when she was about six years old, throat slit, with a kitchen knife. No one blamed her, considering the fact-"

"She was only six and no one could possibly think it would be the six-year-old little girl in pigtails?"

"Pretty much. She died when she was eight of a heart attack. Her last words before she died were apparently, 'Help me, he's coming.'"

"So what your saying is..." George trailed off.

"That we got a psycho dead kid?"

"Basically. Also, I looked the photos of the victims, then a painting of her father, Martin Williams. Apparently, all of the victims resembled Williams in more than one way." Sam showed them the painting of Martin Williams, then took out a photo of Jason Davis, who had the same features as Timothy. "See?"

"So, we got a ghost girl who kills anyone that looks like her abusive dad?"

"Yeah, I think that her father became a ghost-"

"Causing the fire," Dean realized.

"So she stayed behind in order to get back at her dad. Problem is that she doesn't know who is her dad and who just looks like her dad."

"So she just kills anyone just in case," Dean said. "So, where's she buried."

"Wilson Cemetery," Sam replied.

"Wait a minute, Timothy looks like his dad, therefore her dad" George realized.

"We gotta get that cursed rabbit out of there," Sam said.

"Okay, you guys burn Cathy's bones, I'll go find Timothy, he should still be staying at his mom's house," George commanded. Dean wiggled his eyebrows. "Shut up!" she growled.

"I wasn't saying anything!" Dean defended.

"You insinuated," she pouted.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well, Georgie here had a little lips-on-lips action with our little Timmy here."

"I thought you were interviewing him!" Sam said.

"I don't know! It just sort of, well, happened." she lied. George really didn't want Sam to know she was trying to get Timothy to kiss her the entire time. She had no idea why. "So are we going to save this poor kid's life or not?" she snapped.

"But, what are you going to tell him? I'm not an FBI agent and I actually hunt ghosts and ones gonna kill you tonight?" Dean questioned.

"No, I'm just going to tell him that I'm leaving soon and I wanted to say goodbye."

"Good plan," Sam said, "but we're gonna have to do it at night. Don't want anyone noticing us burning a body."

"Sure, Cathy-the-not-friendly-ghost only attacks at night anyway."

At 8 PM, George set off for the Davis' house. Before she knocked on the door, she discreetly hid a rock salt gun behind a bush and check her pocket to make sure there was a bottle of salt in it. She knocked on the door and Timothy opened it, looking shaken,

"George?"

"Yeah, I just came to say goodbye, considering we think we've got the guy."

"Oh, that's great! Want to come in?"

"Sure!" She paused, "Where's your mom?"

"Having a pity party with her friends."

"Don't sugarcoat it," George joked.

"Do you want to come in?" Timothy invited, "Considering you're leaving and we're probably never going to see each other again. Besides, isn't it freezing out there?

George laughed, "You get used to it. Of course, I would mind being in a nice warm house with a hot guy." George paused, noticing the worry on Timothy's face "Are you okay?"

Timothy nodded, "Sure, you'll probably think this is stupid, considering you're an FBI agent-"

George laughed, "I made out with you, even though we just met, I think it'll be safe if you tell me what happened."

He looked down, "I saw this," he paused, "figure. It looked like... like a little girl. But I'm sure it was nothing. I'm just tired."

"Did she say anything?" George nervously asked.

He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, 'What the Hell does this have to do with anything?', but then answered, "It was something, like, 'Help me, he's coming,' or something like that."

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. "Timothy, I need you to do me a favor. This is going to sound absolutely 100% insane, but you will have to trust me."

Timothy nervously laughed, "Can we at least go inside first?"

"Okay, go inside, and make a circle around yourself with this," she held up a bottle of salt, "Because that girl you saw? She was real and she is going to kill you if we don't act fast enough."

Timothy gave her the usual 'you're insane' look, "Okay, I'm gonna go," he turned around, but George grabbed his shoulder.

"Please. Even if you don't believe me, just humor me."

Timothy sighed, "Fine, but after this I'm getting you some help." He took the salt from her and walked into the house. George was sighing when she heard a scream. She rushed into the house and saw the girl from the portrait, Cathy Williams, standing at the end of the hallway, holding a bloody knife. She slowly walked towards Timothy.

"Timothy," George panted as she quickly took the salt from his hand and sprinkle it around him in a circle, "stay here." She rushed outside to where she hid the rock salt gun. She picked it up and called Sam.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, is everything alright?" Sam asked.

"Um, no," George bit her lip, "Cathy is here. Timothy is in a salt circle. How fast till you can salt and burn her bones?"

"We just dug her up. We're about to do it right now."

"Okay, thanks," George hung up and rushed inside, rock salt gun in her hand. She noticed Cathy had disappeared. Not good.

"So, are you sure that thing can't get to me in here?" Timothy nervously asked.

"Yeah, but we need this," she gestured to the gun, "for safety."

"Since when do guns work on ghosts?"

"Normal ones don't do anything. This however, is not a normal gun. Rock salt. It fends the ghost off for a bit, but the only way to actually get rid of a ghost is to burn its bones, which I have two of my colleagues working on."

"Help me."

"Sh-She's back." Timothy nervously said. At the end of the hallway, was Cathy Davis.

"If you don't like loud noises, cover your ears." She pointed the gun at Cathy and fired. Cathy disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Timothy sighed in relief, but a few seconds later Cathy reformed. "Like I said, won't fend 'em off forever." George held up her gun and was just about to fire when Cathy screamed, engulfed by flames. After a few seconds, the flames had consumed her, leaving nothing to show she was ever there.

Timothy gulped, "I-Is she gone?"

George sighed in relief, "I think so." She pulled Timothy into a soft kiss. Once she pulled away, she smiled, "Come on, my "colleagues"", she air-quoted, "are probably waiting for us.

Sam, Dean, and George were standing by the Impala, getting ready to leave. George noticed Timothy's car was pulling up to the motel. Timothy got out of his car and walked up to George and sighed, "Thank you, for everything. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

Dean pretended to look offended, "We helped too." Timothy ignored him.

"Any chance you'll pop by again?" he hopefully asked.

George laughed, "Well, with my job, you never know." She decided to not include the part where she said she never went to the same town twice.

"Oh yeah, about that, do me a favor, and be safe, okay?"

George rolled her eyes. As much as she thought Timothy was hot, it was still annoying that he made her look like a damsel in distress. If anything, he was the damsel in distress, not her. "If I wasn't safe, I'd be dead."

"Let's hope that never happens." He kissed her on the cheek. "Goodbye." He walked back to his car, Sam giving her a "What the fuck was that?" look.

"So, George, why would a man you've only knew for a day kiss you on the cheek?" Sam asked.

"He was grateful. I saved his life, after all."

"So did we, and he didn't peck us on the cheek," Dean added in.

"Shut it Dean. He probably didn't do that because I was the one who was with him, he's probably straight, and I'm just the most amazing person he's ever met." George kicked Sam's seat, kicking with every syllable. "Now. Drop. It."

Okay, I'm really sorry about the delay, I had writers block. Also, I know my original hunt sucked, extremely cliched yada yada yada. We'll be back on track to the original season 1 soon, don't you worry