Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. Supernatural and the characters therein belong to the actors, writers, directors, producers, and technicians that bring it to life. Rated T (just in case).
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A/N Today's chapter is a little short - sorry! Look at it this way, it gives you more time to enjoy what is (hopefully) your day off! Only one or two more chapters to go after this.
Chapter Four
Tramping through the woods in a snowstorm following a ghost was neither the easiest nor the smartest thing they had ever done. But it also wasn't the hardest. Their breath plumed out in front of them, and they both kept talking to a minimum. Mathias led them through the trees by appearing ahead of them, disappearing when they neared. The storm continued around them, muffled somewhat by the pine and evergreen woods they tromped through. Snow on the ground was deep, and Dean worried that if they were attacked it would be a hindrance. Sam was lighter, so he didn't sink as often, but when he did, the snow reached his thighs. Dean sank more often than not, usually up to his knees.
"This is a pain in the ass," he said after sinking into the snow what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Too bad we don't have snowshoes. They would have been useful." Sam grunted as he hoisted himself over a fallen trunk and fell into a waist deep drift on the other side.
Dean clambered over the trunk himself and held out a hand to his brother. He tugged Sam free and they both continued on. Mathias waited just ahead of them. Off to the side, Dean noticed ice sheets forming over a running stream.
"Hey, be careful. There's running water under there, so it's not completely frozen."
"I see it. Maybe we're getting close." Sam walked closer to the ghost. "Is it close, Mathias? Are we almost there?"
The apparition of the boy wavered slightly as he smiled and waved them on, encouraging.
"I cannot believe we are doing this. Dad is going to kill us when he finds out. If Bobby doesn't beat him to it. Tell me again why we're following a ghost through the woods in the snow."
Sam answered, "Because it was better than sitting in the cabin waiting for something to try and kill us. We're acting, not reacting. Which is actually one of Dad's lessons, so he can't get too mad at us, right?"
"Do me a favor, for both our sakes. Don't mention that to Dad when – make that if – we tell him about this part of the hunt. Because pointing out that we were following his advice when we did this will only piss him off on about a thousand different levels."
"Yeah, I know." They reached the spot where Mathias waited. This time, the ghost didn't disappear. When they neared, he pointed down to the ground.
"Here? This is where your father is buried?" Sam asked.
The boy mouthed the words, "He's here."
Sam was pulling out the shovels when Dean asked, "Is he sure this is the right spot? I don't want to dig down into frozen ground only to find the body is somewhere else." Without waiting for Sam, Dean looked Mathias in the eye and asked, "Are you sure this is the place?"
The ghost pointed to a large evergreen on the opposite bank, drew a line in the air from the tree to a boulder in the stream, then to a mound of snow beneath a pine tree on their side of the stream.
"Sammy, let's see what's here."
Together, they used the shovels to clear snow off a large rock. Mathias stood behind it, gesturing to the ground.
"They used the rock here as a headstone?" Sam asked.
The ghost pointed again, and Dean said, "Whoever buried him must have lined it up with the other tree and that boulder as some sort of marker, just to make sure they knew where his body was without putting up a headstone." This comment drew a nod from Mathias.
"Okay, so now we dig?" Sam asked.
Dean grunted as he thrust his shovel into the snow and tossed the contents over his shoulder.
"I'm guessing that means yes," Sam said.
Two hours later both boys were cold but sweaty and quickly growing tired. Dean stood in the trench they were digging and stretched out sore muscles.
"This is worse than a training session with Dad. And that's saying something. Who knew shoveling dirt in winter could be this bad?"
"It's frozen, Dean. I think it makes a difference." Sam pulled his hat down tighter on his head and looked up at Mathias, standing watch by the marker. "I don't suppose you can tell us if we're getting close?" The ghost frowned and shrugged.
Dean muttered, "Great. Just awesome," as he bent to hack away at the frozen ground.
"It is getting easier, the deeper we dig," Sam said.
"Whatever gets you through, little brother."
They shoveled for another half hour accompanied only by the sounds of metal scraping against earth. Then Dean saw what looked like a bone surrounded by burlap.
"I think we got something." He crouched and brushed dirt away from the sack cloth.
Sam looked up at Mathias. "Is this your father?"
The ghost boy's eyes grew wide and he mouthed again the words, "He's here."
"Okay, good. So this is him," Dean said.
Head shaking no frantically, Mathias pointed to a spot behind them. "He's here," he mouthed and disappeared.
"Crap! Sam, get down," Dean yelled as he reached for the rock salt loaded shot gun. He whirled and looked for a target to blast. Cohenbash's ghost was across the river. While Dean watched, it walked over the water toward them. As soon as it got near enough, Dean fired.
He lunged for Sam and began pushing him up out of the grave. "Get home. Now. Move." His brother struggled and pushed back.
"No. We need to uncover the body, fast. There's no time to argue. Come on!" Sam ducked down and began frantically pushing dirt away from the cloth cover skeleton.
"Dammit, Sam. You promised." In spite of his words, Dean went back to work uncovering the body.
"I promised to watch your back. That's what I'm doing. How long do you think we have before he gets back?"
"I'm not sure. He left us alone for a while. But that could be because he couldn't find us. Or it could be that he was just waiting."
A minute or two later, enough of the skeleton was exposed to make Dean happy. He boosted Sam out of the grave, then hoisted himself out. While Dean stood guard with the shotgun, Sam salted the grave down and dumped lighter fluid on it. He was holding his hand out for Dean's lighter when Cohenbash appeared right behind him. The ghost grabbed Sam by the shoulders and chucked him across the clearing where he hit a tree with a crunch that made Dean sick to his stomach. His body dropped bonelessly to the ground.
Dean fired at the ghost even as he shouted his brother's name. Once Cohenbash disappeared, he ran to Sam.
"Hey, Sammy. Wake up. Come on, buddy, you have to get up." He checked Sam for broken bones. Relieved not to find any, he tried to figure out why his brother was still unconscious. When he found a lump the size of an egg on Sam's head under the cap, he prayed it was only a concussion.
"Okay, first order of business, get rid of the ghost, then we get you home." Dean waded through the snow back toward the grave, fumbling in his pocket for a lighter with one hand while keeping a tight grip on the shotgun with the other. "Gotta make this fast before that Poltergeist movie extra wannabe comes back."
He never made it to the grave. Cohenbash was suddenly directly in front of him. Dean moved forward just as Cohenbash shoved him back. There was a sensation of flying, the thud of impact, a desperate need to protect Sam, then blackness.