Woman in White
word count: 980
rating: PG
characters/pairing: John, mentions of past John/Mary, mentions of past John/others
warnings: none
summary: Men are disappearing along a five mile stretch of Centennial Highway outside Jericho. John goes to check it out.
In other words, how we got to "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."
John had a pretty good idea what he was dealing with before he rolled into town. It took him five days, however, to put a name to the Tragic Backstory.
Constance Welch - sweet young woman, loving wife, doting mother, church every Sunday.
When her poor children drowned in the bathtub while she was hanging clothes on the line, no one was terribly surprised that she took her own life.
A Woman in White textbook case, if there was such a thing.
He went through the motions to make sure he wasn’t missing anything else - interview the husband and the neighbors, and find out where she was buried so he can try burning the body to rule out a simple vengeful spirit, check the local cemetery for any signs of ghouls. She wasn’t buried in a cemetery, but behind her old house. No recent internments meant no ghouls. He had burned the bones, and someone else still went missing, so Woman in White was the working diagnosis.
John drove out Centennial Highway every night looking for her. It took him almost a week to find her.
She was literally a woman in a white dress. He made a mental note to ask Bobby why there was a dress code for this particular type of spirit.
Anyone else would think that the way she flickered as his car slowed was a trick of the mist or darkness, but John knew better. He slipped his iron knife under his thigh as he pulled up beside her.
“Lady, are you okay?” he asked.
“Take me home.” She said, getting into the truck.
The temperature in the cab of the truck dropped twenty degrees, and the heat no longer helped.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Down the highway,” She said. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re beautiful.” He told her.
Well, a lot better looking than most dead people, that’s for sure, he thought to himself.
“Come home with me.” She offered.
“If I’m taking you home, I have to come with you.” He pointed out.
“Come home with me.” She repeated, pulling her skirt up high on her thigh.
“How do I get there?” he asked.
“It’s past the bridge.” She said.
The bridge was only two miles away. He drove while watching her as much as possible.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Constance.”
She reached over and touched his arm. The iciness of her touch penetrated through his jacket and three layers of shirts.
If she hadn’t been a spirit, she would have been frozen. She wore nothing but a thin white cotton dress, no coat or shoes.
“Are you cold, Constance?” he asked. “I can turn the heat up.”
“You can warm me up.” She practically purred.
“Why were you outside with no coat?” he continued.
“I was looking for you.” She said. “Take me home. It’s the next house on the left.”
The next house on the left was one John had already been to. It was the long since abandoned house where Constance had lived with her husband and children, before finding out that her husband was banging her sister.
He pulled up in front of the house and the radio immediately spit out static.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He turned off the engine and almost immediately Constance was in his lap.
“I’m so cold.” She whispered, her hands smoothing across his chest and into his jacket.
“Yeah, I’m not really into ghosts.” He said.
“You’ve been unfaithful.” She told him.
“No.” he shook his head. “I never cheated on my wife, and she’s been dead over 20 years.”
“Not your wife.” Constance smiled, and it was more frightening than any hateful look any creature had ever given him. “You cheat on your son’s mother. You go to see her. You sleep with her. But when you leave, you sleep with other women. You promise them you’ll call. But you don’t. Ellen welcomes you into her bed whenever you pass through town. You work cases with Annie because you know she’ll sleep with you after. Tara is still waiting for you to call. But Kate still thinks one day the two of you can work things out. That one day you’ll come to see Adam, but you’ll stay with her. She keeps a picture of you and her by her bed. She raises your son, she’s always there when you call, and you treat her like dirt.”
Constance’s hands slithered from John’s back, around his sides, and settled on his chest. They suddenly flexed, her nails growing long and sharp as she reached toward John’s heart.
In the blink of an eye, he had pulled the iron knife from under his leg, stabbed her in the chest, and jerked the knife upward, cutting through the rapidly dissipating smoke.
She vanished with an unearthly scream. He wasn’t dumb enough to think she would stay gone long.
He also wasn’t dumb enough to think he could work this case safely by himself. He had known the situation was coming to a boiling point with the whole Yellow Eyed Demon and blood thing, so this seemed like as good a time as any to put forth the plan he’d been working on for months.
He took his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing Dean’s number as he drove away from the house.
The voice mail picked up, so he left a message.
“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”
He hoped Dean would catch the part about “We” being in danger and go to Sam. John had been subtly dropping Sam’s name into conversations for months.
He pushed the gas pedal down further, hoping he could make the five miles from her house before Constance materialized again.
rating: PG
characters/pairing: John, mentions of past John/Mary, mentions of past John/others
warnings: none
summary: Men are disappearing along a five mile stretch of Centennial Highway outside Jericho. John goes to check it out.
In other words, how we got to "Dad's on a hunting trip, and he hasn't been home in a few days."
John had a pretty good idea what he was dealing with before he rolled into town. It took him five days, however, to put a name to the Tragic Backstory.
Constance Welch - sweet young woman, loving wife, doting mother, church every Sunday.
When her poor children drowned in the bathtub while she was hanging clothes on the line, no one was terribly surprised that she took her own life.
A Woman in White textbook case, if there was such a thing.
He went through the motions to make sure he wasn’t missing anything else - interview the husband and the neighbors, and find out where she was buried so he can try burning the body to rule out a simple vengeful spirit, check the local cemetery for any signs of ghouls. She wasn’t buried in a cemetery, but behind her old house. No recent internments meant no ghouls. He had burned the bones, and someone else still went missing, so Woman in White was the working diagnosis.
John drove out Centennial Highway every night looking for her. It took him almost a week to find her.
She was literally a woman in a white dress. He made a mental note to ask Bobby why there was a dress code for this particular type of spirit.
Anyone else would think that the way she flickered as his car slowed was a trick of the mist or darkness, but John knew better. He slipped his iron knife under his thigh as he pulled up beside her.
“Lady, are you okay?” he asked.
“Take me home.” She said, getting into the truck.
The temperature in the cab of the truck dropped twenty degrees, and the heat no longer helped.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“Down the highway,” She said. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
“You’re beautiful.” He told her.
Well, a lot better looking than most dead people, that’s for sure, he thought to himself.
“Come home with me.” She offered.
“If I’m taking you home, I have to come with you.” He pointed out.
“Come home with me.” She repeated, pulling her skirt up high on her thigh.
“How do I get there?” he asked.
“It’s past the bridge.” She said.
The bridge was only two miles away. He drove while watching her as much as possible.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Constance.”
She reached over and touched his arm. The iciness of her touch penetrated through his jacket and three layers of shirts.
If she hadn’t been a spirit, she would have been frozen. She wore nothing but a thin white cotton dress, no coat or shoes.
“Are you cold, Constance?” he asked. “I can turn the heat up.”
“You can warm me up.” She practically purred.
“Why were you outside with no coat?” he continued.
“I was looking for you.” She said. “Take me home. It’s the next house on the left.”
The next house on the left was one John had already been to. It was the long since abandoned house where Constance had lived with her husband and children, before finding out that her husband was banging her sister.
He pulled up in front of the house and the radio immediately spit out static.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He turned off the engine and almost immediately Constance was in his lap.
“I’m so cold.” She whispered, her hands smoothing across his chest and into his jacket.
“Yeah, I’m not really into ghosts.” He said.
“You’ve been unfaithful.” She told him.
“No.” he shook his head. “I never cheated on my wife, and she’s been dead over 20 years.”
“Not your wife.” Constance smiled, and it was more frightening than any hateful look any creature had ever given him. “You cheat on your son’s mother. You go to see her. You sleep with her. But when you leave, you sleep with other women. You promise them you’ll call. But you don’t. Ellen welcomes you into her bed whenever you pass through town. You work cases with Annie because you know she’ll sleep with you after. Tara is still waiting for you to call. But Kate still thinks one day the two of you can work things out. That one day you’ll come to see Adam, but you’ll stay with her. She keeps a picture of you and her by her bed. She raises your son, she’s always there when you call, and you treat her like dirt.”
Constance’s hands slithered from John’s back, around his sides, and settled on his chest. They suddenly flexed, her nails growing long and sharp as she reached toward John’s heart.
In the blink of an eye, he had pulled the iron knife from under his leg, stabbed her in the chest, and jerked the knife upward, cutting through the rapidly dissipating smoke.
She vanished with an unearthly scream. He wasn’t dumb enough to think she would stay gone long.
He also wasn’t dumb enough to think he could work this case safely by himself. He had known the situation was coming to a boiling point with the whole Yellow Eyed Demon and blood thing, so this seemed like as good a time as any to put forth the plan he’d been working on for months.
He took his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing Dean’s number as he drove away from the house.
The voice mail picked up, so he left a message.
“Dean...something big is starting to happen...I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger.”
He hoped Dean would catch the part about “We” being in danger and go to Sam. John had been subtly dropping Sam’s name into conversations for months.
He pushed the gas pedal down further, hoping he could make the five miles from her house before Constance materialized again.