Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

As promised, chapter thirteen is up!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

About the name of the chapter- it's from this musical on Broadway called The Woman In White. It was based on a book by the same name by Wilkie Collins.

I haven't seen the musical, but I have read the book!

Oh, almost forgot, part of Odette's nightmare (*evil grin*) is in Spanish!

On with it, shall we?

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN- LOST SOULS

I was up and flattened against the wall in an instant. I waited for several minutes, inching forward bit by bit, knife in hand.

By the time, I reached the window; the woman was gone- if she really had been there.

I paused, flopping back onto my bed. It could have very well been my overactive imagination, acting up after I'd been forced to admit that things really did go bump in the night, and my brain had reached overload.

That was the logical theory. The one I wanted to believe. The alternative?

There was a possibly angry spirit right outside my window.

I shook my head violently. What was I supposed to do?

Call Sam or Dean? Just the mental image of Dean's expression had me recoiling against the bedpost.

No. It was a figment of my imagination, nothing more. I curled up on my bed determinedly. All the same, I held the knife loosely in my hand, vainly trying to fall asleep.

When I finally did, I was plagued by the same nightmare.

"Do it, Odette." He pleaded. "I can't hold on much longer. Stop me. Please."

I was shaking,it was shaking in my hand, hideously precise.

" You know what I've done. You know what's going to happen if you don't. What's going to happen to you."

The salt water was dripping down my cheeks, hot and sticky, tinged with horror, foreboding.

"Don't. Don't make me do this." I was the one who was pleading now.

"You have to. Be strong, Odette. I'm begging you."

My throat convulsed. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you, couldn't protect you, couldn't stop you. I love you. Perdoname, querido."

"No hay nada que perdonar, Odette. It wasn't your fault. I love you, too. Always have, always will. Mantente fuerte."

I squeezed. One simple motion. Over.

I screamed.

My eyes flipped wide open as I vaulted up in bed, chest heaving.

After all those months. I wasn't strong enough to suppress it.

The horrified tears were pooling under my eyelids, but I swiped them away. I deserved this, and I would not wallow in my misery. Not anymore.

I glanced at the digital clock. It was 9:00 AM. An hour before Dean and Sam started "work".

I rolled out of bed and showered quickly, following up by brushing my teeth. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, relieved to see no outward sign of my inner turmoil.

Slipping into casual denim shorts and a red silk tee, I stepped out into my room, to find Sam waiting for me.

"Good. You're up. C'mon out and have breakfast." He smiled easily at me.

I returned it, following him out into their room. Dean was waiting, tufts of hair sticking up on his head.

I fought the odd urge to smile. He seemed a little less intimidating in his sleep-tousled state, not nearly so hostile.

I decided to go with orange juice and toast, while Dean and Sam opted for their regular options.

Dean turned to look at me. "We'll be out hunting. We'll come back around 11. Stay here, all right?"

I nodded. I didn't want to go out anyway.

"Castiel will be here to take care of you." Sam added.

"Anything you need, you can tell him." He smiled encouragingly.

I hesitantly smiled back. Part of me didn't want to be babysat by an angel, but I knew I was weak, and if something happened, I wouldn't be able to protect myself, and I'd put the others at risk.

Castiel popped into the room at that moment. I jumped in surprise, still not used to the fact of his zapping from place to place.

It was almost 10. Sam and Dean left shortly after, leaving me alone with Castiel.

There was an awkward pause. I was unsure of what to say. Castiel wasn't easy to talk to and friendly like Sam, nor was he gruff and antisocial, like Dean.

He was a mystery. At least with Dean, I could try and make myself as unassuming as possible, but Castiel?

I had no idea.

I pondered him, and then realized something.

"Your name's Castiel. You're the angel of Thursday, aren't you?"

I seemed to have mildly surprised him.

"Yes. How did you know that?"

"I just remembered. From a book. You're supposed to assist anyone who calls out for help on a Thursday, but that's probably a myth, right?"

"Right."

He lapsed into silence after that. I peeked at him, and then retrieved my laptop.

I might as well do something useful in the time I had.

I opened up my assignments from my correspondence course, wincing at the amount of Algebra.

I meticulously finished all of them, settling into the familiar activity.

I grew comfortable in Castiel's presence, since he was trying to be unobtrusive, but it was hard not to notice his being there.

I finished faster than I wanted to. I tapped my fingers on the screen, an impatient, staccato beat, desperate for a distraction.

The tempo of my fingers stuttered as a new idea entered my head.

Sam had told me about the hunt. Several men had been disappearing off the same stretch of road, Centennial Highway, for up to ten years now.

I decided to research. I wanted to be useful, and in the unlikely event that they didn't find anything, I would have liked to be able to help.

The next half an hour, I found all the information I could, and the sinking feeling in my stomach only increased with everything I found.

I was so engrossed, I didn't notice when Dean and Sam returned.

Sam had to tap me on my shoulder to get my attention.

I twitched nervously. "Did you find anything?"

"Nope," Dean answered, throwing himself on the other vacant bed.

"We met the victim's girlfriend- she didn't really know anything."

I had no choice now. Castiel had gone as soon as the Winchesters had come back.

I could not stall for time. Sam looked at me, then. Properly.

"Odette? Is something wrong?"

Dean's gaze was sharply focused on me now.

I coughed to cover up my nervousness. "I did some research while you guys were gone."

"You said spirits usually exist because they died violent deaths, right?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. I tried not to gulp.

"So, um, there was this woman, Constance Welch. It's said that she found her two children in the bathtub, dead and jumped off Centennial Highway into the lake after calling 911. Constance died on a Monday. Ever since then, a man's been disappearing on a Monday, the exact hour she died."

Sam and Dean blinked at me for a long minute. I fidgeted on Sam's bed.

I was almost to jump up and leave the room, when Sam cracked a grin.

"That's some pretty good research, Odette. I'm impressed."

I sagged in relief, smiling at him.

Dean fixed me with a penetrating gaze. "You're probably right, but we still need to know if this Constance chick is the one offing these men."

"She is," I said, my mood darkening.

He looked at me suspiciously. "And you would know that because..."

I showed him the newspaper clip of Constance Welch's face.

"Still doesn't explain why-" I waved a hand.

"I saw her. She was outside my window last night. Same woman."

I tried not to let my voice shake.

At that, Dean slammed his hand on the table. "Why didn't you tell us?" he demanded.

I balked. "I thought I was imagining it. You know, after the whole ghosts-are-real business."

He huffed in annoyance.

Sam resumed speaking. "We don't care, Odette. Even if you think you're dreaming, or it's a false alarm, tell us. The consequences could be fatal, you understand?"

"I understand." And I understood. I did. I understood that I'd screwed up. Again, if Dean's expression was anything to go by.

I was ready to slink back into my room when Sam stopped me.

"We'll leave in the evening to find Constance."

"And you're coming with us," Dean added firmly.

I thought I saw Sam throw a quick look at Dean.

"You'll need to tell us what the ghost looks like, and which stretch of highway is the one she took a nosedive from," he clarified.

I bobbed my head in agreement, edging away into my room.

I caught Sam glaring at Dean.

I turned away, just wanting to hide beneath the covers.

Instead, I opened up my email, dreading the mails I knew would be there.

The hell have you been, Odette? Mrs. P. said you were leaving!

You better haul your butt back to Maine and give us a proper goodbye, Odette or I'll come down to wherever you are and drag it back myself!

School isn't the same without you, Odette. I miss you. Won't you come back?

I miss you too; I wanted to write back to them.

To all of them. To the people who'd made my life a bit more bearable in Maine.

But I couldn't. Not anymore.

Not when I'd be putting them in danger. Not again.

Then the ridiculous tears came, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. So I let it all out, my guilt, my misery, and my agony. Everything, until I felt as empty as a dried out husk.

This would be the last time I cried. I was tired of being weak. I'd had enough. I had a new life, and while I could never forget what I'd done, I could bury it, deep, deep down, and never revisit it again.

I glanced at my watch. It was past 7:00 now, almost time for us to leave.

I wiped my face fiercely, making sure no signs of my breakdown were visible.

I walked out into Dean's room, nearly bumping into him.

"We're leaving now. Got your gun?"

I winced mentally. "Yeah."

"Get in the car."

I hurried out, where Sam was waiting.

I slid in the backseat, slightly nervous.

Dean gunned the car, and we made it to Centennial Highway in record time.

I jerked against the upholstery as I looked ahead.

I'd seen Constance. And this time so had Sam and Dean.

She threw herself over the bridge, and promptly disappeared.

We were out in a trice. "That her?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." We moved forward warily, towards the edge of the road.

The familiar, rasping growl made us stop in our tracks and look back.

The Impala was moving towards us. Fast.