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

I always keep my promises! Chapter fourteen is up!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

The name of this chapter is borrowed from The Flaming Lips.

On with it, shall we?

(Odette PoV)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN- SHE IS DEATH

Dean roughly pushed me ahead of him. "RUN!" Sam bellowed, following close behind us. We sprinted, the Impala close on our heels.

My breath came in short, unsteady pants, my pulse raced, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The constant drumming of our feet against the asphalt pounded in my ears, consistent and monotonous.

Sam pulled me along when I slowed slightly, Dean flanking my left.

We fled, chased by the possessed car that the brothers loved so much.

Something had to give, though. The Impala was slowly gaining ground on us. I was spent, and even Dean and Sam's speed was decreasing, bit-by-bit.

Dean dragged me forward as I nearly slipped. The Winchesters seemed to arrive at the same conclusion I had.

"We're gonna have to jump the fence," Dean yelled above the growl of the car.

I nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw its height.

"We'll help you, Odette, just GO!" Sam jerked me forward.

I wedged my feet into the fence, conscious of Dean and Sam's bolstering hands as they hoisted me up.

With their help, I managed to land on the other side. I still had enough presence of mind to snatch Sam's hand in mine to pull him over. I grabbed a handful of leather jacket that might have been Dean's, I wasn't sure in the confusion.

I lost my balance in the thick underbrush, and would've fallen to my death into the lake below if Sam hadn't caught hold of my arm.

"Thanks," I whispered shakily.

"Don't mention it," he muttered. That's when we noticed Dean was gone.

Absolute panic flooded Sam's features. "DEAN!" He shouted, eyes sweeping over the deserted area. "DEAN!"

I searched too, finding nothing. "Dean!" I called.

Sam was frantic, and I was getting worried, when a faint voice wafted in our direction from the edge of the lake.

"I'm fine, all right? Quit yelling!"

Relief washed over his face.

Dean himself emerged a few minutes later, disgruntled and sopping wet, hair plastered to his face.

Apparently, he hadn't been as lucky as us. I tried not to wrinkle my nose when he arrived, and failed miserably.

"We better get back on the highway," was all he said. They lifted me up and over the fence with no apparent effort, scaling it themselves without a fault.

I eyed the Impala warily. It remained deceptively motionless.

Dean slid in with a disgusted grunt, fuming visibly.

Sam's: "You smell like a sewer," didn't help things much.

For a second, I thought Dean was going to punch him.

"It's best if we go back. We don't know what else the ghost might pull over here," Sam said, probably for my benefit.

I nodded, leaning against the seat of the car. The adrenaline hadn't really left me yet.

We reached the hotel in silence. The doorman glared suspiciously at Dean's disheveled state, but let us in, nonetheless.

I collapsed on my bed, exhausted. I hoped this wouldn't happen as often as I suspected it did with the Winchesters.

Before falling asleep, I vaguely wondered where Castiel was.

I woke slightly later than usual in the morning. I rushed through my daily routine, and poked my head into the adjoining room.

Dean was a prostrate lump on his bed, seeming almost peaceful in his sleep.

Sam was working on his own laptop, the quiet clicking of keys the only sound in the room.

He grinned at me, patting the space beside him. I sat beside him tentatively, glancing at the screen.

"'Morning," I greeted him in a hushed tone, mindful of Dean.

"Morning." He looked at me speculatively. "I've been following up on your research. Constance was cremated, so we can't burn the bones. Good work on that, by the way."

I blushed at his praise. "Thank you."

It wasn't just for the compliment.

"I'll be going again tonight. You're welcome to come, if you want."

I blinked in surprise. "What about Dean?"

"He'll be here, trying to find any physical remnant of her we can torch. Actually, it's better if you stay with Dean. It'll be safer for you."

Stay alone with Dean? I'd rather take my chances with Constance.

"I'd rather come with you," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Please let me come, I pleaded silently.

"Alright," he agreed easily.

Dean awoke with a groan at that moment. He blearily eyed the two of us, and then ambled into the bathroom.

I could hear the sound of water running.

I wondered again where Castiel was. We sat in amicable silence, waiting for Dean to come out.

He appeared looking a lot more energized than before, promptly ordering breakfast.

We ate quickly, Sam typing away on his laptop.

I offered to help, and we started work. The day passed pleasantly, consisting of my talking to Sam while Dean sat and listened.

Night fell, and Dean left, presumably to a bar, according to Sam, who knew his brother well.

Sam got into the Impala, and I followed him.

My uneasiness grew the closer we got to Centennial Highway.

"Shouldn't you tell Dean where we are?"

Sam shrugged, unconcerned. "He'll understand."

I let the matter drop.

And then I turned cold. Someone, or something, was sitting next to me.

Sam hadn't noticed yet. "S-Sam," I stammered.

He turned around, then, eyes widening in shock. Constance Welch was an inch away from me.

He futilely tried to open the door. It was jammed. There was no way out.

My heart hammered in my chest as she surveyed me with cold, empty eyes.

"I'll deal with you later," she promised, and lunged for Sam.

I screamed as the car swerved out of control. A small part of my mind that was somehow unconnected to our plight was thinking: Dean will kill us.

At least, if Constance didn't do the job first. I lurched forward, trying vainly to pull her off of Sam. She sent me careening into the backseat, head snapping into the interior.

I pulled forward, nonetheless, trying to push Constance away from Sam.

She snarled at me, punching me in the stomach. All the breath whooshed out of me.

"Y-you can't kill me," Sam was rasping. "I'm not unfaithful."

"You will be," she said, and jabbed him in the chest.

I tried to reach for my gun, but she caught the movement, and her other hand fastened around my throat.

I wheezed, what little breath I had left quickly disappearing.

We were both going to die. Sam was choking now, and my eyes were rolling back in my head.

That was when we heard the sound of a gunshot.

Constance shrieked and vanished as she came in contact with the rock salt.

"You idiots," Dean hissed, wrenching the door open and pulling us out onto the grass on the side.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me where you'd gone?"

I couldn't answer him even if I had my breath. My stomach heaved and my head spun.

Sam seemed to have recovered quite fast. Somebody helped me up.

I realized it was Dean when he pulled me to my feet.

"You OK, kid?" He asked me, propping me against the car so I could lean against it for support.

"Gimme a minute," I gasped. "I will be."

"What'd she do?" He demanded of Sam.

"Uh, punched her, I think, in the stomach. And tried to strangle her." I fingered the skin around my throat, grimacing.

He looked at me concernedly.

Dean eyed me critically. "Huh. You'll be fine, kid. First time's the worst."

If I didn't know any better, I would've thought his tone was sympathetic.

He glared at Sam. "You and I will talk after this."

Sam sniffed, apparently not bothered. "I have an idea."

"I hate your ideas," Dean groused. Sam ignored him.

"This is Constance's home. We drive the car in, she comes inside, and we try and find something that belonged to her."

Dean snorted. "Suicidal."

"It's all we've got." He countered.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate your ideas?"

"Yes. Several times."

Dean got into the driver's seat. Sam and I followed. He drove the car into the house, the splintering sound of wood breaking loud in my ears.

We got out slowly. It worked like a charm.

Constance appeared in a trice, and had us flattened against the wall, wedged in by a meter-long table.

She was advancing towards us now. And this time, I didn't think we would be saved.

Dean grunted angrily beside me. "You suck, Sam."

"Yeah, I know."

And then two small children appeared on top of the rotting staircase.

"You've finally come home to us, Mommy," they said in perfect sync.

Constance froze.

They slowly descended the stairs, inching towards the tormented ghost while we watched in amazement.

And in a motion so quick I almost missed it, they wrapped their arms around the woman in white.

Their forms shimmered, and suddenly they were gone, leaving nothing behind except the steady drip-drip of water collecting in the aging wood.

Somehow, I knew they wouldn't be back.