A.N.: Sorry for the cliffie last chapter folks. But here is the real deal. The last stand for Lily Scott. I hope you guys enjoy and I still have a couple more chapters left before I wrap this up. Thank you so much for the support.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
'This is not good.' Dean thinks as he engages in some sort of sick game of chicken with the spirit of Lily Scott.
Sam pants as he stares at his brother. Dean searches his brother's eyes for a signal that he needs to light this bitch up, but all he sees is fear.
Lily catches on to the silent conversation being carried on between the Winchesters and suddenly Sam is on his knees, crying out in pain.
DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT.
Her small and fragile arm twists and Sam howls out.
"Sam!" Dean bellows as he tosses the lighter away from him. "Okay Lily, you win. Just stop."
She giggles and though Dean can't see it, he imagines her fingers unclenching from around his brother's heart as his younger brother's face loses the tense lines of hurt.
"Dean," Sam breathes.
"You okay Sammy?" he calls, never taking his gaze from Lily's tiny hidden fist.
He nods.
HE WON'T BE IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO. She whispers.
"Lily, just let go of Sam. It's me you want, just," he starts.
NO! YOU DON'T GET TO SPEAK, AFTER WHAT YOU DID, her voice wavers as her hand begins its ascent out of Sam's chest.
"It wasn't Dean," Sam replies. "The man you're looking for," his voice pauses and breaks into a guttural moan of agony as her hand slams back through him.
"Lily, don't! Listen to us!" Dean yells.
YOU DIDN'T LISTEN TO ME! WHEN I BEGGED AND PLEADED AND CRIED TO GO HOME, TO LET ME OUT! Her rage splinters into sorrow as tears start to track down her face.
"Travis Little was the bastard that did this to you." Sam grits out. "Not Dean."
"Shut up Sam." Dean mutters to him.
"Look at him Lily," Sam gasps. "Really look."
Her eyes travel Dean's face, hand still buried somewhere in Sam's sternum.
BUT…
"It wasn't him. He's dead."
Both of her hands fly to her mouth in shock. BUT HE…
Sam collapses onto the ground; his arms curled protectively around his stomach.
Dean takes her momentary sign of weakness to race over to his brother.
"Sam, are you okay?"
"I think so."
HE'S DEAD? She whimpers. THEN I,
"You didn't know." Sam states, trying to reassure the despairing spirit.
I KILLED THOSE MEN. I KILLED, her figure sputters out of sight for several seconds and when it blinks back into being the malice is gone from her face, leaving behind overwhelming regret.
Her fingernails are bent and jagged from frantic attempts to escape, the hem of her once yellow dress is torn and dirtied by earth, her face is so young and remorseful that Dean feels an unbidden breath hiss out through clenched teeth.
I didn't mean to, she begins, ghostly chest heaving with a sob.
Dean grabs onto the top of Sam's jacket and thrusts them both to their feet.
"Lily," San starts, startled into silence when Dean touches a hand to his shoulder.
"I got this Sammy." He says quietly, shuffling his feet back to towards her grave.
How could I? I thought, I thought.
"You thought you were punishing the evil son of a bitch who did this to you." Dean says. "I get it. He deserved it and worse, but he's dead. And if there is any justice in this world he is paying for his crimes." Dean pauses to pick up his discarded lighter. "It's time for it to be over."
Over?
"Yeah, over."
Her arms wrap around her figure. What does that mean?
"It means you have to move on."
Move on to what? She inquires, eyes landing on her headstone.
"Wish I knew what to tell you."
I'm scared. What if it's worse than?
"What? What you've already been through?" Dean gives a hollow laugh as he thinks about the desolation, the fear, the madness, the vice around every inch of him as time, air and hope bled out of the wooden box. "It can't be." He whispers.
Her chin trembles as iridescent tears run down her face.
"It's time to rest." Dean says, flicking open his lighter and igniting it.
She nods and draws in quivering and needless breath. I'm so sorry.
Dean's face splits into a shaky half smile. "I know."
She returns the smile; only a trace of fear left as he bends down and sets fire to her bones.
A warm glow envelops the middle of her form and she favors them both with a relieved smile as she vanishes with the soft whisper of thank you hanging in the air.
He feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the area as Sam places his palm on his back.
"Dean?"
Dean swallows hard. "Yeah?"
"Are you?"
"No." Dean cuts him off. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Sam nods and reaches over to take the lighter from his brother's clenched fist. "It's over Dean. Let it go."
Dean's fingers uncurl from the object compressed into his palm as an errant tear runs down his face. "Yeah, okay Sammy."