Supernatural: Roadkill

A/N: Happy early Thanksgiving! So, with Thanksgiving being tomorrow, I've decided to post this a day early since the odds are that I probably won't be able to post this tomorrow like I normally do.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural or Criminal Minds; I just own the characters that I happen to create.

CHAPTER TWO: TAKEN!

"For man also knoweth not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare; so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon them."

Ecclesiastes 9:12

"Those things shoot rock salt?" Molly asked Sam as they continued along the brick path, referring to the guns that the Winchesters were carrying.

Sam nodded. "Yep."

"And plain salt keeps away spirits?" Molly asked, recalling what'd happen to Greeley when Dean and Liz had shot him.

Sam shrugged. "Simple remedies are always the best," he commented. "Most cultures, salt's a symbol of purity so it repels impure and unnatural things. Same reason you throw it over your shoulder."

Soon they reached the end of the path, and saw a dilapidated house just ahead of them.

Dean sighed. "You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house."

Sam and Molly went into the house while Dean and Liz checked the outside before joining them inside.

"Any headstones outside?" Sam asked.

"Yeah right," Dean scoffed as he and Liz tossed their bags on the couch. "Is it ever that easy?"

Sam sighed. "No, I guess not."

Dean moved past Sam and spotted a flight of stairs heading up. "You two check upstairs," he ordered. "See if you can find notes or records where he's buried. Liz and I will check down here."

Sam nodded. "All right." And both he and Molly headed up the stairs.

Once they were out of hearing range, Liz followed Dean into the kitchen. "This has to be the strangest case by far. I mean, what do we do when it's time to tell her the truth?"

Dean shrugged. "I've no idea, Liz. No idea at all."

Sam and Molly entered the attic and saw that there was documents scattered all over the floor.

"Great," Sam muttered as he knelt down and began going through them.

Molly explored the room and picked up a scrapbook by the window. "Look at this," she said as she sat down on the bed and Sam joined her; they opened the book and found photos, letters, and other stuff inside. "It's Greeley and his wife," she remarked and stopped on a page that had a piece of paper on it. "It's a love letter he wrote her." And she began reading it to herself.

Dearest Marion,

It has been a while since I have written one of these to you. Perhaps the last one was before you and I were wed. Last night as I was looking at the moon I thought I saw your face in it. I can't remember to a day I have not known you. That there was once a world where the sun rose and set and I did not know you were breathing under it. I sometimes take a walk through the hills and over that lookout the one high up around the five curves and I just look out the sky and feel so lucky have met you. I don't know what my life would be without marrying. I hope that life treats us well. Your heart and my heart make a whole. I feel my wants travel through life as me. I am lost without you to wake up to every morning and hold every night. I don't know who I am.

You are my queen.

All my love

Jonah, xxxooo

"My god it's beautiful," she gasped and looked at Sam, confused. "I don't understand how a guy like this can turn into that monster."

Sam wasn't sure either, but he did have a theory. "Uh…spirits like Greeley are, uh, like wounded animals. Lost. In so much pain that they lash out."

Molly didn't understand. "Why? Why are they here?"

"Well there's some part of them that's keeping them here," Sam explained. "Like their remains, or, um…unfinished business."

"Unfinished business?" Molly repeated.

"It could be revenge," Sam suggested. "It could be love or hate. Whatever it is, they just hold on too tight. Can't let go. So they are trapped. Caught in the same loops. Replaying the same tragedies over and over."

Molly raised her eyebrows. "You sound almost sorry for them."

Sam shrugged. "Well, they weren't evil people. You know, the…A lot of them were good. Just something happened to them. Something they couldn't control."

"Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this," Dean said from the doorway, surprising them, Liz standing right behind him. "Me, I don't like them and I sure as hell ain't making apologies for them. There's nothing down stairs. You find anything?"

Sam looked around at the scattered papers and sighed as his siblings entered. "Uh, just about every piece of mail or receipt they ever had. Looked through a couple, but nothing about a grave so far."

"Great," Liz grumbled.

Dean wandered around and spotted something behind a desk.

"What?" Sam asked.

"There's something behind here," Dean answered. "Here." He tossed his gun to Sam and, with Liz's help, moved the desk out of the way. Dean then stooped down and examined a small door that was in the wall; he then hit on it, but it didn't budge. "It's locked from the inside." He then stood up, turned around, kicked the door twice to open it, and crawled through after Sam handed him his gun.

"It smells like old lady in here," Dean muttered as Sam, Liz, and Molly came in; soon his flashlight landed on a dried out corpse. It appeared to be a woman who had hung herself. "And that would explain why," he added while Molly gasped and Liz grimaced. "Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again."

"She didn't want to live without him," Molly realized.

Sam went over to the corpse and grabbed a chair that he set in front of it. "Dean, Liz, give me a hand," he requested.

Dean stared at him, unnerved while Liz sighed and went over to help. "Really?"

Molly looked between them, confused. "What are you going to do?"

Sam gave Dean a pointed look. "We can't leave her like this." And climbed onto the chair.

Dean frowned. "Why not?"

"She deserves to be put to rest, Dean," Liz stated.

Dean groaned and walked over. "Son of a…" and while he and Liz carefully grabbed the corpse, Sam pulled out his switchblade and began cutting the rope.

Back outside, the Winchesters finished digging a grave and placed the wrapped corpse in it while Molly watched.

"So if you manage to put Greeley to rest too, what happens to him?" she asked.

"Lady, that answer is way beyond our pay grade," Dean joked as he, Sam, and Liz grabbed the shovels and began shoveling dirt into the grave.

Molly could tell that Dean was avoiding the question. "You hunt these things but you don't know what happens to them?"

Dean shrugged. "They never come back. That's all that matters."

"After they let go of whatever is keeping them here, they just go," Liz told her. "I hope someplace better, but we don't know. No one does."

Molly still didn't really understand. "What happens when you burn their bones?"

"Uhm." Sam wasn't sure either, but he gave it a try. "Well, my dad used to say that it was like death for ghosts, you know? But the truth is, we still don't know, not for sure. I guess that's why we all hold onto life so hard. Even the dead. We're all just scared of the unknown."

Molly crouched and peered into the slowly filling grave. "The only thing I'm scared of is losing David," she said honestly. "I have to see him again. I have to." And she missed the look that the Winchester exchanged.

Back in the house, the Winchesters were keeping watch in the living room, and Molly was in the kitchen, still looking at the scrapbook.

Sam watched her for several seconds and then went over to Dean, who was sitting in a chair, looking out the window. "I think we should tell her about her husband."

Dean shook his head. "We can't."

"Dean, it's cruel, letting her pine for him like this," Sam protested. "I don't like keeping her in the dark."

"I'm with Sam," Liz agreed, leaning against one of the walls. "We need to tell her."

"It's for her own good," Dean said seriously, standing up. "I know you both feel guilty, but lets just stick to the plan. Lets get her out of here, then we'll tell."

"Tell me what?" Molly asked, making their start and turn. "What aren't you telling me?"

The Winchesters couldn't answer.

"It's about David," she realized. "You know what happened to him."

"Molly-" Sam began.

"Sam, don't," Dean ordered.

"Don't what?" Molly asked angrily. "Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband."

"That's not true," Liz protested.

Molly raised her eyebrows, fully skeptical. "Really? Then whatever it is, tell me, please." Sam couldn't find the words; just then, there was radio static and then the station tuned to the song. "He's coming," she whispered fearfully.

"Stay with her," Dean ordered and he and Liz went into the kitchen; looking around they followed the music and uncovered an old cobwebby jukebox playing.

Liz glanced at the base of the jukebox and noticed something. "Look at this." And they both knelt down to examine the cord, which was frayed and in two, and they both sighed. "I'm almost expecting a kid in a gas mask to show up and ask the question, "Are you my mummy?"." And Dean grimly chuckled at the Doctor Who reference.

They both stood, however, when the wind began blowing outside, and they saw frost covering up a glass window leaving the words "She's Mine" visible.

Back in the living room Sam moved to check on his siblings, leaving Molly near the window; seconds later Greeley broke through the window and grabbed her from behind, causing her to scream as she was pulled outside.

"Dean! Liz!" Sam shouted, turning back. "He's got Molly!"

The Winchesters jumped out the broken window and raced through the forest looking for Molly; by the time they reached a clearing, they were unable to find either Greeley or Molly. This wasn't a good sign.

"This guy is persistent," Dean complained as they returned to the house to retrieve their gear and, hopefully, find a clue as to where Greeley would take Molly, and where they could find Greeley's remains.

"And annoying," Liz added.

Sam nodded, although he was only half-listening. "We gotta find Molly."

"We gotta find Greeley's bones," Dean corrected, grabbing his bag and glanced out the broken window while Liz got her bag. "And, uh, no pressure or anything but we got less than two hours before sunrise."

Sam sighed since he knew that was true and glanced over at the open scrapbook, noticing something. "Hey!" and he picked it up.

"What do you got?" Liz asked as she and Dean joined him.

Sam was examining the photo of Greeley and his wife next to the hunting cabin. "Uh, February 6, 1992."

"That was like two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it looks like the hunting cabin but I swear there's a tree there right where they're standing." He then remembered something and felt like kicking himself. "Oh. I should have thought of it."

"What?" Dean asked.

"It's an old country custom, Dean, Liz," Sam responded. "Planting a tree as a grave marker."

Dean stared at him for a moment, amazed. "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." And walked away, barely avoiding Liz's attempt to kick his leg.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

A/N: Virtual cookies to anyone who can guess which Doctor Who episode I quoted in this chapter. R&R everyone!