Liam
Liam stretched her neck as she walked across the parking lot to the car. She cringed when the tightness refused to give.
"Got it?" Blaire called from her place leaning against the passenger-side door. Liam held up the little envelope with the keys to their room, shaking it, "he wasn't like the last guy, was he?"
In the months since they'd been traveling, they hadn't had the best experiences with motel front desk clerks, and it had become something of a game to determine who would go and retrieve the keys upon arrival.
"No, but we still haven't met the night shift guy, so I wouldn't get your hopes too high." Liam replied, squeezing the envelope to force it open and shimmying out one of the keys for Blaire.
"I don't know, this place seems kind of sweet," Blaire said, taking the key and pushing herself off the car with one sneakered foot, "The Bluebird Hotel"
"As long as it's clean," Liam said, popping the trunk.
"And you think I'm the one with high hopes?"
Liam handed Blaire her bag and then shouldered her own duffle, slamming the trunk.
"At this rate, I'm not going to be able to turn my head for a week," She murmured, rubbing at the place where her shoulder met her neck.
"Liam?" Blaire said, nudging her.
"Hm?"
"Liam."
Her eyes followed Blaire's gesturing, and she froze when she saw the sleek, black car her friend had spotted on the other side of the parking lot.
"It's probably not," Liam said, glancing at her, "right?"
Blaire looked at her as if she had three heads, "At a run-down hotel in a town crawling with suspicious activity? It was bound to happen sooner or later."
"Do you think they'll even remember us?" Liam asked.
"Why wouldn't they?" Blaire replied, almost defensive.
"Because they drive through hundreds of towns and meet thousands of people, probably. I'm just saying, just because that experience was memorable for us doesn't mean it was for them. It was just another job."
"We made them fill in a grave," Blaire reminded her.
Liam sighed, popping the trunk again and putting her bag down inside, "I guess I can go see if my new friend will give me their room number."
"Wait," Blaire said, holding an arm out to stop her from walking away, "listen."
Liam strained to hear what Blaire heard and rolled her eyes when she identified the noise. Blaire put her bag down, and the two of them made their way across the parking lot to the impala. As they got closer, Liam peered into the car through the back window and saw nobody - still, the sounds of Survivor exhorting them don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past spilled out the open windows and into the air around them. Perhaps the boys had left the car running while they went to check in.
When they approached the driver's seat, Liam arched an eyebrow and Blaire pulled in her lips, trying to keep from laughing. Dean was lying across the front seat, completely oblivious to the world around him as he imitated a drummer and pantomimed the beat of the song. They watched for a few moments before Liam knocked on the roof of the car, causing Dean to jump to attention.
He sat up and started to say something, obviously mistaking them for Sam, but stopped mid-word, his mouth hanging open and eyebrows furrowing.
"Liam," he said, the surprise evident in his voice. He glanced at Blaire and nodded slightly, "Blaire. Small world."
Blaire shot a sideways glance at Liam with a raised eyebrow that clearly said See? They remember. Liam ignored it, turning her attention back to the man in the driver's seat. He looked exactly the same as the last time they'd seen him.
"You're a long way from New York," he said, opening the car door. Liam and Blaire stepped back to allow him room to climb out.
"Yeah," Blaire said, shifting her weight from one foot to another, "are you guys staying here?"
"Yeah," Dean replied, scratching nervously at his forearm. Liam noted the red scratch marks on his skin, "Sam's grabbing some donuts, I think,"
"So, why are you out here?" Liam asked, lifting up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun so that she could get a better look at him.
"Me?" He asked with a breathy laugh, "what about you? What are you doing in Colorado?"
"I was just wondering the same thing," A voice cut in. Liam and Blaire turned to see that Sam had joined them, approaching with a half-a-dozen box of donuts. His face broke into a smile, and he nodded at them, adding a congenial "hey."
Blaire returned Sam's greeting and smile before turning to give Liam a questioning look. Liam cleared her throat, "maybe we should go inside? Dean said you were renting a room here."
"Of course," Sam said with a ladies first gesture, ushering them toward the Bluebird's entrance. The three of them moved forward together, beginning to make small talk, before noticing that Dean had not followed.
"You coming?" Blaire asked as the group stopped. Dean nodded quickly, licking his lips.
"Yeah, it's just…" he said, glancing up at the building, "our room is on the fourth floor."
Liam and Blaire exchanged a look before glancing at Sam, who seemed frustrated.
"They didn't have anything on the first floor," Sam told Dean.
"Right," Dean said, "it's just...high."
An awkward silence fell over them like a blanket, and Sam pursed his lips, looking uncomfortable. Liam was the first to attempt breaking the silence, "like...off the ground?"
Dean nodded, looking sheepish.
"It's okay," Blaire said, "we don't have to go up there."
"Our room's on the first floor," Liam added, holding up the room key, "why don't we take this reunion inside?"
Dean looked relieved, and Sam's eyebrows furrowed as he muttered that he knew the guy at the front desk was lying. The four of them went to room 102, Liam and Blaire opting to leave their bags in the car for now, since it seemed they might wind up switching rooms with the boys. The two women shared a glance after Liam opened the door and walked in, gesturing for the boys to make themselves at home. Dean's fidgeting was the elephant in the room as he moved to sit on the pullout sofa near the window, peering through the open blinds. Sam settled in an armchair. Blaire sat on the other end of the sofa, and Liam opted to plop down on the corner of the nearest bed.
"Is someone...following you?" Liam asked, eyeing Dean with concern before glancing at Sam.
"No," Dean replied, his eyes widening slightly as he turned to regard her, "why? Did you see someone following us?"
"No, you just seem a bit…"
"Nervous," Blaire provided.
"Don't mind him - he's not really himself at the moment," Sam interjected, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "We're working on figuring it out. So, what are the two of you doing in Colorado? Are you on vacation?"
Blaire snorted, and Sam turned to look at her with furrowed eyebrows.
"No, not vacation," she said, "we're here because of the deaths."
"Oh," Sam said, his hairline shifting back in his surprise, "so you...you knew one of the victims?"
Liam and Blaire exchanged a confused and slightly amused glance at the miscommunication.
"No, we're here to look into them. Just like you," Liam said.
"Right, because you're a detective," Dean tried to help, gesturing toward Liam.
"No, because we're hunters. I'm not a detective anymore."
"Hunters?" Sam said, his eyebrows raised.
"Since when?" Dean added.
"Maybe...eight or nine months?" Blaire guessed, looking to Liam for confirmation.
"Why would you do that?" Dean asked, panic rising in his voice, "why would you quit your jobs and become hunters? That's insane."
"Okay, first of all, you can relax, because it doesn't affect you," Liam said, giving Sam a What's his problem? look, "and second, we had our reasons. That's all you need to know."
"And we're getting really good at it," Blaire said, her posture straightening, "we've figured out a lot in the past nine months. On our own."
"I'm sure you have," Sam said diplomatically, knitting his fingers together, "but, you see, this is kind of a special case. Even we don't fully know what's going on."
"Then it's good we're here to help," Blaire said, not ceding an inch.
"No, you-" Sam shook his head and took a deep breath to calm himself, "you can't help."
"Absolutely not," Dean added for good measure. Liam turned a venomous glare on him, and he sat back in his seat, fidgeting.
"Look, I don't know what's wrong with him," She said, gesturing to Dean, "but you obviously could use some help."
"If you don't include us, we're going to look into it anyway," Blaire said, "without the benefit of shared knowledge, which is silly."
Sam looked between them for a long moment and then sighed, "Alright, I'll tell you what I know," he relented, "but only because I don't want you to wind up with ghost sickness, too."
"Ghost sickness?" Dean said, his eyebrows arching. This was clearly the first time he was hearing this diagnosis as well.
"I talked to Bobby," Sam said, "and that's what we settled on. Ghost sickness."
"God, no," Dean murmured, wringing his hands.
There was a long silence as Liam and Blaire exchanged a glance, unwilling to admit that they were already lost after the impassioned argument they just made for their competence.
"I don't even know what that is," Dean added after a moment. Sam gave him a wry look before continuing.
"Okay, some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses, and started taking them to funeral homes."
"Okay, get to the good stuff," Dean urged him.
"The symptoms are: you get anxious, then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out," Sam said, more casually than the situation seemed to call for. Liam and Blaire's eyes widened. They certainly hadn't dealt with something like this before. Liam wondered briefly if the boys were messing with them, but brushed away that doubt when she noticed Dean scratching at his forearm again.
"So, that's what's happening to him?" She asked, her eyebrows knitting in concern, "He's scared? He's going to have a heart attack?"
She felt guilty for being so impatient with him before and made a mental note to try harder to help him stay calm.
"Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in weeks," Dean reminded him.
"Well, I doubt you caught it from a ghost," Sam said, "Once a spirit infects that first person, ghost sickness can spread like any sickness. Through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu."
Liam nodded, subtly shifting further back on the bed to put some distance between herself and Dean. Blaire raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged defensively.
"Now, Frank O'Brien," Sam began, stopping to address Blaire, "that was the first victim. The first to die. Which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero. He was in Maumee over the weekend - softball tournament - which is where he must have infected the two other victims."
"Were they gamecocks?" Dean asked.
"Cornjerkers," Sam replied, causing Blaire to make a face.
"So," Dean continued, "a ghost infected Frank, he passed it onto the other guys, and I got it from his corpse?"
"Right," Sam confirmed, before adding context for the girls, "we examined Frank's body at the morgue."
"So now, what, I have 48 hours before I go insane and my heart stops?"
"More like 24."
A heavy silence fell on the room as they all considered the stakes.
"Well, why me?" Dean asked Sam, "Why not you? You got hit with the spleen juice."
"Spleen juice?" Liam repeated, while Blaire simultaneously sent Sam a sympathetic look and said "Been there."
"Yeah, um, you see, Bobby and I have a theory about that, too. Turns out, all three victims shared a certain...personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims - one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer."
Dean looked skeptical and highly offended, "so you're saying I'm a dick?"
He turned to Liam and Blaire, "I'm not a dick. Am I a dick?"
Liam and Blaire exchanged a glance and shifted uncomfortably.
"Well...we don't really know you," Blaire attempted helpfully. Judging by the look on Dean's face, it did not help.
"It's not just that," Sam said, "All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor."
"I don't scare people."
"Dean, all we do is scare people."
"Okay, well, then, you're a dick, too."
"Apparently, I'm not."
Liam wondered briefly if Sam and Bobby, whoever that was, had come up with this theory just to get under Dean's skin. Dean sighed and shook his head.
"Whatever. How do we stop it?"
"We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up," Sam answered.
"Gank?" Blaire asked.
"You know, like...kill," Sam said.
"Then why don't you just say kill?" Liam asked, leaning back on one hand to keep herself propped on the bed.
"Because, it's…" Sam trailed off, uncomfortable.
"Gank," Dean jumped in, "it's a thing that people say."
"Nobody says that," Liam said.
"Alright, so we need to get rid of the ghost that started all of this," Blaire interjected, trying to get them back on track, "do we have any idea who that is?"
Dean exchanged a glance with Sam, "you thinking Frank's wife?"
"She killed herself," Sam clarified solemnly. The girls nodded.
"Sounds like a place to start," Liam said, pushing herself to her feet, "so what's the plan?"
"The plan is you three stay here, and I'll go find out where she's buried," Sam said, swinging his jacket open behind him and shrugging into it.
"Seriously?" Blaire asked, standing.
"Seriously," Sam said, picking up some papers from the table and shuffling them together, "you have plenty of reading to do, anyway."
Liam sighed and sat at the table, accepting the stack from Sam. Blaire pulled out a chair and joined her.
"Bring back some chips," Dean called as Sam grabbed the keys and walked out the door. Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back to lean through the doorway.
"Do you guys want anything?" He asked. Liam and Blaire politely declined, already engrossed in the headlines in front of them. The room was silent for several minutes, except for the creaking sound of Dean shifting on the sofa as he looked warily at any and everything around him.
Liam's tongue pressed into her cheek as she tried to concentrate on the research. She glanced up at Blaire, who was already chewing on a pen she'd picked up from the table. She looked back at the research. Dean shifted on the sofa again.
"Hey Dean," she said with a forced politeness in her tone, "how about you come take a look at this?"
She picked up the book on ghost sickness that Sam had left and slid it toward the empty chair at the table. Dean stood with a grunt.
"You sure you want me breathing your air?" He said wryly.
"Just don't cough," she replied, earning a glare from Blaire. Dean settled in the chair across from Liam and opened the book, thumbing through the entries until he settled on the one he needed. The room was quiet as they continued reading. Liam had skimmed an article on Frank's death, one on his wife Jessie's death, and one related to the closure of the mill where Jessie had apparently worked, when she noticed Dean's fidgeting had returned. She glanced up from her paper, prepared to say something about it, when she noticed the intense discomfort on his face. Perhaps she shouldn't have assigned him to read about ghost sickness. Whatever he was reading was really freaking him out.
"Can I see that for a second?" She asked him, gesturing to the book. He handed it over quickly, like he was relieved to be rid of it. Liam glanced over the page he'd been reading. Aside from some graphic drawings, the information on the page was mostly history and nothing too shocking. Blaire was now also eyeing Dean sympathetically, having abandoned her reading. A phrase on the page caught Liam's eye and she furrowed her eyebrows.
Individuals afflicted with ghost sickness experience hallucinations.
"Dean, are you seeing things?" She asked.
"What?" He asked, shaking his head in an attempt to pay attention. His face had broken out into a sweat.
"Are you seeing or hearing things that aren't there?" She reiterated.
"Liam, how would he know if it wasn't there?" Blaire said, rolling her eyes and turning to Dean. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched.
"Dean, what's happening right now?" She asked softly.
"The clock…" he murmured, glancing at it like it had hurt him in some way.
"Liam," Blaire said, nodding toward the clock with a look that said get rid of it. Liam stood and pulled it off the wall. She turned it over and pulled out the batteries to stop the ticking, before walking over and tossing it into the closet.
Dean was scratching at his rash again.
"Try not to scratch," Blaire said in the gentle but firm tone she always used when tending to a sick person. Dean nodded and covered his mouth as he began to cough. He sent Liam a panic-stricken look after coughing.
"Sorry," He said.
"No, it's fine," Liam said, walking back over to the table. He was still coughing. "are you okay? Do you need some water?"
He nodded, and Liam rushed to get some water from the tap as Dean's coughing escalated. Blaire continued to try and calm him, and Liam offered him water in the styrofoam cup the motel provided. Dean tried to take a sip, but immediately coughed it up, choking. Liam went to his other side, kneeling low next to his chair.
"I think he's choking," she said. Blaire instructed Dean to open his mouth and tried to look inside.
"I don't see anything," she said, "Dean, can you speak?"
He attempted, but only more coughing and sputtering came out. In the next moment, he'd stood, knocking the chair to the ground, and rushed past them to the kitchenette. Liam and Blaire followed, prepared to help him dislodge whatever was stuck. They stood behind him as he leaned over the sink, coughing and gagging.
Sure enough, a small object fell into the sink with a small clunk, and Dean gasped in equal parts relief and horror. Liam and Blaire each placed a hand on his back, trying to help him calm down from the close call. He grabbed the dislodged item from the sink, and all three leaned in to take a closer look.
"What is it?" Dean rasped.
"It looks like a...wood chip," Liam said, sharing a perplexed look with Blaire. Blaire took the bloody chip from Dean, and walked over to look at it in the light. Liam ushered Dean back over to the sofa and offered him the abandoned beer he'd left on the coffee table earlier. He took a few long swigs.
"I'm guessing you didn't eat that…" Liam said after a while, breaking the silence.
Blaire had moved to the table with furrowed brows and was quickly shuffling through the newspapers they'd just been reading.
"I'm gonna die," Dean said when he finally finished guzzling his beer. Liam sat next to him on the couch, her first responder instincts kicking in.
"Hey," she said, trying to catch his wandering eyes, "you're not gonna die. We have plenty of time. We're gonna figure it out."
"Yes, we are," Blaire said, holding up one of the newspapers and the woodchip to show them, "we need to go to the mill."
When Sam returned carrying a gas station bag with snacks, the three of them were already wearing their jackets and preparing to leave.
"Finally," Blaire said, shoving the newspaper at him as they passed him in the doorway. Sam's mouth opened and closed like a fish before he threw down his snacks and followed them.
"Wait, where are we going?"
"The mill," Blaire called over her shoulder, "driving together or separate?"
"Separate," Liam said at the same time Dean answered "Together."
They shared a look, and Liam rolled her eyes when Dean added "safety in numbers."
"Hold on," Sam said. They all stopped in the parking lot and turned to face him, "why the mill?"
"Because I coughed up a piece of wood," Dean said, causing Sam's eyebrows to raise.
"Which means that either Jessie or Luthor is there," Blaire said.
"Not Jessie," Sam said, "I checked her death records. She was cremated."
"Then I guess we know who our culprit is," Liam said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket and pulling out the car keys, "meet at the mill?"
Blaire moved to follow Liam to the car, and Dean made for the impala, but Sam still held his ground, "you two should really stay here. We don't know what we're gonna find there."
Blaire, having expected this resistance, turned to him, "Dean is in no shape to give you adequate backup, and you don't have other options. We're going."
Sam sighed, wordlessly pulling the impala keys from his pocket and retreating to the car.
Blaire
When Liam and Blaire arrived at the Impala, Dean was staring up at the mill with terror in his eyes, "I'm not going in there."
Sam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at his brother sternly, "There's four of us. We have plenty of backup." Sam walked to the trunk of the car, "you're going in, Dean."
Dean reached down and pulled a flask from his jacket pocket. He took a moment to down half of the bottle before slamming the door forcefully.
"Dean-" Liam spoke up, but he turned on his heel and exhaled.
"Let's do this!" He shouted triumphantly as he rounded the back of the vehicle
with the keys in his hands. As he unlocked the trunk, he surveyed the mill again, "It is a little spooky, isn't it?" He turned to Sam and Liam with an awkward, concerned smile. Sam rolled his eyes and Liam bit back a sympathetic smile. Dean threw open the trunk and the two dove in.
Sam reached over and handed Dean a pistol. He opened his palms in a gesture of surrender and Sam stood up straight, looking at him in disbelief. Blaire and Liam exchanged concerned glances with one another.
"Oh, I'm not carrying that." Dean said and Sam clenched his jaw, "it could go off!"
"Dean, it's completely safe. You've done it hundreds of times, I'm sure." Blaire tried to reassure him as he ducked back into the trunk.
"I'll man the flashlight." He enthusiastically gripped the flashlight in both of his hands and gestured it towards Sam with an expectant grin.
"You do that," Sam's teeth were gritted into a patronizing smile, clearly conveying the tension in his words."What did you bring?" Sam asked, turning to Blaire and Liam expectantly.
"Pistol," Blaire pulled her jean jacket to the side to show the gun in the waistband of her jeans, "knife," she held up her boot in his direction, "salt." She shifted her jacket again and dug into the pocket, brandishing a large tin of salt.
Sam nodded in approval and turned to Liam, who was starting back toward her own car. Blaire watched as she popped the trunk and began to pilfer through their supplies. Sam and Dean stepped over toward her, Blaire followed, hoping to gain the same nod at the arsenal they had accumulated over the past several months.
"A blowtorch?!" A very weary looking Dean gasped as Liam moved the torch to the side. Sam furrowed his brows as he met Liam's eyes.
"How else were we going to destroy a ghost's wedding ring?" Blaire asked honestly, confused as to how they might suggest they had better handled that first hunt.
Sam and Dean's eyes met, both sported a stumped look on their face. Dean nodded with an impressed pout and Sam looked as though he was shuffling through decades of memories to draw a response from.
"That's that Cartello resourcefulness for you," Liam slipped her own knife into her boot as she gave Blaire a nudge. Blaire felt a sense of pride well up in her chest. She adjusted her jacket so it covered the gun at the waistband of her jeans and looked up to exchange a smirk with Sam.
"Alright," Liam stood up straight and pulled her shotgun from the trunk, "let's do this."
Dean held the flashlight forward as Sam walked in first, his shotgun held up under his chin and trailing around the dark rooms. Any slight noise merited a shift in his gaze and the barrel of the gun. Liam held a similar stance, the pair looking like a television SWAT team. Blaire followed behind them, scouting the rear and making sure nothing caught them by surprise.
Suddenly, a muffled sound began calling out from Sam's pocket. He pulled out a small device and held it out in front of him. The lights at the top were illuminating with each whirr and screech it made.
"EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?" Dean chuckled slightly.
"You don't say." Sam responded, sighing as he forced it back into his pocket.
They stepped further and Sam stopped suddenly. He reached over to gesture to Dean, who let out a startled gasp as Sam's hand made contact with his chest. Sam shushed him and reached down to the dirt floor in front of him. Blaire and Liam came up on either side of them to watch as he crouched down and picked up a gold band from the floor.
"To Frank, Love Jessie." He read out loud as Dean held the flashlight on his hand.
"Frank O'Brien's ring." Liam spoke up, narrowing her eyes at the ring in Sam's hand.
"What the hell was Frank doing here?" Dean wondered aloud.
"No idea," Sam responded, looking off into the distance ahead of them curiously.
As they continued down the dark corridor, Dean helpfully lighting the way, the group heard a noise ahead. The soft creaking of hinges and the sound of something hitting metal. Blaire perked up and pulled her gun level with her shoulder, gripping it in both of her hands. Liam and Sam held their weapons up as well as they moved forward toward the noise. Blaire could see the source of the light beginning to tremble as they made their way into a locker room.
They came to the source of the noise, a closed locker in the middle of a row. Sam moved ahead, Liam next. Dean kept his flashlight on the locker, then shone it in Sam's face as he watched him in disbelief.
"Careful," Blaire reminded as Sam made his way to the other side of the locker, so he would be able to open it up and let whatever was inside out toward the guns Blaire and Liam had trained on it.
He nodded at his armed backup and began to mouth the count silently. When he got to three, he flung open the locker door. A meow was heard and a skittish cat hit the ground and took off. The locker slammed from the force of Sam wrenching it open and it was all met with a loud, elongated scream from Dean. Blaire jumped back from Dean, Liam's shoulders tensed, and Sam stood there wordlessly, looking beyond disappointed.
"That was scary!" Dean exhaled loudly, reaching down and pressing his hands on his knees to catch his breath from the fright. Liam and Blaire looked at him in concern and Blaire looked back at Sam, who was already moving past them to continue the search.
"You okay?" Blaire asked Dean, reaching out and touching his shoulder.
He swallowed hard and nodded, "yeah."
"Why don't you hang back with us? We'll cover you," Liam suggested helpfully, eyeing up Dean and looking meaningfully at Blaire. Blaire pressed her lips together, trying not to let out a chuckle at their current situation. Liam widened her eyes at her and subtly shook her head, encouraging her to keep her composure.
When they entered the next room, Dean was standing between the two friends, allowing Sam to move in ahead of them. The room was covered in at least three inches of sawdust and debris. The floor was strewn with papers and the work spaces looked like they had been ransacked before years of neglect. Sam took to one desk, Dean walked toward another. Liam and Blaire kept to the center of the room, their backs to one another, scanning the area.
"Luther Garland," Sam said, looking down at something he held in his hand. Blaire looked over at him, trying to see past his large frame to what he was staring at.
"Hey, this is uh...this is Frank's wife," Dean stated in concern, looking at the papers strewn across the desk in front of them. Blaire and Liam began to make their way over to him. Sam did the same.
"Plot thickens," Sam remarked.
Blaire and Liam peered over Dean's shoulder at the paper in his hands. He was holding a print out of the article about Frank's wife's suicide. He was holding it out to compare it to a realistic drawing facing up on the desk in front of him.
"Yeah, but...into what?" Dean responded to Sam and reached up to lift the drawing. The paper tore and simultaneously, the sound of machinery starting up echoed throughout the entire mill.
The four of them jumped to attention, Dean moved the flashlight around the room as they scanned it. Blaire looked up at the ceiling, watching as dust started to sprinkle down from above. Dean suddenly froze, his flashlight trained on a figure standing in the corner. Blaire and Liam lifted their guns toward it. Sam took a moment to realize that his brother was rigid with fear beside him. As he turned and realized, he moved forward with his gun held up. Liam began to start after him, backing him up.
"Hey!" Sam called at him. The man started to turn. Blaire heard Dean gasp beside her and turned to see him run out the door.
Sam realized that the light had diminished in the room. His eyes followed Dean as he took off to the exit of the mill.
"I'll go get him," Liam huffed, taking off after him, her gun held up to cover him as she followed.
"SAM!" Blaire called as she watched the large man in the corner start to come after them. Sam turned just in time for him to growl and stand to his full height. Sam pulled his gun up and poised himself to fire as Blaire fired three rounds at the man's chest. The ghost disappeared, leaving them silently standing in the reverb of the gunshots.
Sam turned to Blaire with a quizzically raised eyebrow. Blaire smirked and let her hands fall down at her sides.
She shifted her weight from the heels of her feet to her tiptoes and back, "it's been a long year, Sam Winchester."
When Sam and Blaire exited the mill, they found Liam and Dean at the tail end of the Impala. Liam was squatted down, speaking reassuringly to Dean who was finishing the half of the bottle of liquor he had left behind.
"Guess we got the right place," Sam huffed as he handed over Luther's ID to Liam, who turned to him expectantly.
"Luther Garland," Liam read from the laminated card in her hand, "is that who we saw back there?"
"Yep." Blaire said with a triumphant, tight lipped smile.
"Did you take care of it for now?" Liam asked them both before checking in on Dean like a child after a nightmare.
"Well, I didn't," Sam scratched the back of his neck and looked over to Blaire with an embarrassed smirk.