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Chapter name borrowed from The Man From LaMancha.
It's fun saying it, isn't it?
LaMancha!
On with it, shall we?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN- YOU'LL NEVER WALK ALONE
"No way that was a heart attack," Dean says firmly.
"Definitely no way," Sam seconds.
"Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within forty-eight hours."
"Something scared them to death?" I ask skeptically.
"All right," Sam chews his lip. "So what can do that?"
"What can't?" Dean replies.
"Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things."
"Yeah," I nod. "So we make a list and start crossing things off."
"Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?" Sam looks at us expectantly.
"Uh, his neighbor, Mark Hutchins."
I am about to cross the road-and the barest trace of a smile ghosts over my face.
I have my hunting partners back.
I have my brothers back.
I try not to think about who I've lost.
For good.
My fingers shake, and I hurriedly slip out a cigarette, holding it between my lips.
Dean's eyes narrow, and he's about to say something when he catches sight of a few teenagers talking near the Impala.
I realize with a stab of bitterness that they are older than I am.
And yet they manage to look so carefree.
"Hang on," Dean fortunately distracts me.
"I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there."
Sam and I stare at the laughing, joking bunch of teenagers.
Resentment surges through me, but I press it down until I can almost ignore it.
This isn't the right place-or time.
"Let's walk this way."
Dean takes the opposite side of the road.
We stare after him, perplexed.
~Supernatural~
Dean eyes Mark's big lizard uneasily.
"So, uh," Dean hesitates.
"Do you know, uh, do you know what scared Frank?"
"Well, yeah," Mark nods vigorously. "Witches."
The three of us exchange a look.
"Witches?" Sam echoes. "Like...?"
"Well, Wizard Of Oz was on TV the other night, right?" Mark checks.
"And he said that green bitch was totally out to get him."
I try, and fail to keep a straight face.
"Anything else scare him?" I ask.
Mark rolls his eyes.
"Everything else scared him. Al-Qaeda, ferrets, artificial sweetener. Those pez dispensers with their dead little eyes. Lots of stuff."
Dean glances uneasily at Mark's animals again.
"So, tell me," Sam pushes. "What was Frank like?"
Mark looks around shiftily.
"I mean, he's dead, you know? I-I don't want to hammer him, but he got better."
"He got better?" Sam repeats.
"Well, in high school, he was, he was a dick," Mark offers.
"Like a bully," He adds.
"I mean, he probably taped half the town's butt cheeks together."
Dean snickers.
"Mine included," Mark admits.
"So he pissed a lot of people off," Dean notes.
"You think anyone would have wanted to get revenge?"
"Well, I don't..." Mark stammers. "Frank had a heart attack, right?"
"Just answer the question, sir," I say expressionlessly.
"No, I don't think so," Mark shakes his head.
"Like I said, he got better. After what happened to his wife-"
"His wife?" Dean interrupts. "So he was married.
"She died about twenty years ago. Frank was really broken up about it."
Dean starts staring at the snake around Mark's neck.
He notices.
"Don't be scared of Donny," He cooes.
"He's a sweetheart. It's Marie you got to look out for."
Mark gestures to the couch.
"She smells fear."
Dean freezes as an albino snake crawls down his lap.
I do not flinch as Marie slides over onto my lap, not even when I feel her slimy skin.
There are far worse things than snakes.
~Supernatural~
"Frank's place is clean," Sam reports. "No EMF, no hex bags, no sulphur."
"So probably no ghosts, no witches, no demons," Dean finishes.
I take a cursory look at my papers.
"Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. Went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her strung up in a motel room."
"Frank, however," I flip over a few more pages.
"Had an airtight alibi. Working a swing shift, I think."
Dean drives through the intersection, past our hotel.
"Dude, where are you going?" Sam demands. "That was our hotel."
"Sam," Dean says forcefully.
"I'm not gonna make a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic. I'm not suicidal."
We give him a confused look.
"Did I just say that?" Dean frowns. "That was kind of weird."
Something goes off in the background.
"Do you hear something?"
I take out the EMF meter, bringing it close to Dean.
It beeps frantically.
~Supernatural~
"Dude, look at this," Dean stretches out his arm for me to see.
It's covered with angry red scratches.
Sam comes up, throwing a box of donuts to Dean.
Dean sniffs them and throws them back in the car.
My mouth drops open.
"I just talked to Bobby," Sam says.
"And?"
"Um," Sam rocks back on his heels. "Well, you're not gonna like it."
"Why?" I ask anxiously.
"It's ghost sickness."
"Ghost sickness?" Dean echoes.
"God, no."
"Yeah," Sam nods.
"I don't even know what that is," Dean admits.
"Okay," Sam explains fast.
"Symptoms are you get anxious, then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?"
"But I haven't seen a ghost in weeks-"
I cut off Dean's objection.
"Frank. It must have been Frank," I realize. "He was the first to die."
"So, now what?" Dean says acerbically.
"I have forty-eight hours before I go insane and my heart stops?"
"More like twenty-four," Sam corrects.
"Why me?" Dean asks. "I mean, you got hit with the spleen juice."
"Yeah, um, Bobby and I have a theory about that," Sam says.
"Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."
"Okay." Dean waits.
"Basically, they were all dicks," Sam adds.
Dean huffs.
"So you're saying I'm a dick?"
"No, no, no," Sam says quickly. "It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor."
"I don't scare people," Dean refutes.
I sigh.
"Dean, all we do is scare people," I point out.
"Whatever," Dean shrugs. "How do we stop it?"
"We gank the ghost that started all this," Sam answers.
"We do that, the disease should clear up."
I raise an eyebrow.
"You thinking Frank's wife?"
"Who knows why she killed herself?" Sam retorts.
I look back at Dean.
I know what this means.
It means Dean is living on a deadline.
Again.